#onto a different problem now. one with IT

[tyrantisterror]

Fuck it, I didn't want to make a post on this but it's bugging the hell out of me so let's exorcize the thought.

Lilo and Stitch is an extremely good children's movie. I've been working at a daycare for over five years now, and out of all the children's movies I've shown to an auidence of twenty or so school-age kids (i.e. between the ages of 5 and 12), the only movie that's held their attention as well as Lilo and Stitch is The Emperor's New Groove, and the only one that's held it better is An American Tail. Of those three, Lilo and Stitch has won the vote of "what movie we will watch" the most. It not only entertains kids, but emotionally captivates them from start to finish, because it very thoroughly understands how to engage children on their level. It's a smart, tightly written children's movie.

The feat of story-telling genius it pulls of lies in its ability to reach both where children's imaginations want to go and where their lived real-world experiences lie - most children's movies focus on one or the other, but Lilo and Stitch dives deep into both. On the imagination side, there's Stitch's whole plotline of being a little alien monster being chased by other weirdo aliens onto earth because they want to stop him from running amok and causing havoc (which, of course, happens anyway in fun cartoony comedy/action spectacle). On the real-world side, you have Lilo's plotline of being a troubled little girl who has an abundance of very real problems that, like an actual child, she struggles to comprehend and deal with, as well as the many adults in her life that care about her to some degree but all struggle to fully understand her. Kids want to be Stitch and run amok and cause cartoony havoc. Kids, even the least-troubled kids, relate to Lilo, because all of them have been in a similar situation as her at least once in their lives.

Balancing these two very different stories, with very different tones and scopes to their respective conflicts, is a hard writing task, but Lilo and Stitch manages to do it in a way that seems effortless with one very powerful trick. The two plots are direct mirrors to each other, complete with the characters involved in each having foils in the respective plot. To break it down:

Stitch, the wild and destructive alien gremlin who everyone has labeled as a crime against existence, is Lilo, the troubled young girl who's viewed as a "problem child" by all the adults in her life. In both plotlines, Stitch and Lilo are facing the threat of being "taken away" from the life they know because they act out, and in both plotlines, we see that this is an unfathomably cruel thing to do to them and will not actually solve the problems they have.

Dr. Jumbaa, the mad scientist who made Stitch because making monsters is what mad scientists do, and who had no intentions of ever being nurturing or parental to anything or anyone in his life, is Nani, Lilo's older sister whose parents died when she was young and now is forced to act as a parental substitute despite not being mentally or emotionally prepared for that responsibility yet. Both Dr. Jumbaa and Nani are trying to get their respective wild children in line with what society wants them to be, and both are struggling hard with it because they in turn have a lot of growing to do before they can actually accomplish that.

Pleakley, the nebbish alien bureaucrat who ends up being assigned to help Dr. Jumbaa despite being mostly uninvolved in creating the whole Stitch situation, is David, the nice but mostly ineffectual guy who's crushing on Nani and wants to help her but doesn't really have much he can provide except emotional support. Ultimately Pleakley and David prove that said emotional support is a lot more helpful than it seems on the surface, as they give Jumbaa and Nani respectively a lot of the pushes they need to become better in their parental roles.

The Grand Councilwoman, who runs the society of aliens that is trying to banish Stitch forever for his crime of existing, is Cobra Bubbles, the Child Protective Services agent who is in charge of deciding whether or not Lilo needs to be taken away from her home forever for, ostensibly, her own good. Both are well-intentioned and stern, with a desire to follow the rules of society and do what procedure says is the most humane thing to do in this situation, but both lack the understanding of Stitch/Lilo's situation to actually help until the end of the movie.

Finally, we have Captain Gantu, the enforcer of the Galactic Council who is a mean, aggressive, sadistic brute but is viewed as a "good guy" by society because he plays by its rules (well, when he knows can't get away with breaking them, anyway), who is the counterpart of Myrtle, the mean, aggressive, sadistic schoolyard bully who is viewed as a "good kid" by other adults because she plays by the rules they established (well, when she knows she can't get away with breaking them, anyway). Both Gantu and Myrtle are, in truth, much nastier in temperament than Stitch and Lilo, but are better at hiding it in front of others and so get away with it, and often make Stitch and Lilo look worse in the eyes of others by provoking them to violence and then playing the victim about it - in fact, both even have the same line, "Does this look infected to you?", which they say after goading their respective wild-child victims into biting them.

The symmetry of these two plotlines allows them to actually feed into each other and build each other up instead of fighting each other for screentime. The fantastical nature of Stitch's plot adds whimsy to the far more realistic problems that Lilo faces so they don't get too heavy for the children in the audience, while the very real struggles of Lilo in her plotline bleed over into Stitch's plot and make both very emotionally poignant. When both plotlines hit their shared climax, they reach children on a emotional level few other movies can match - the terror of Lilo being taken away from her family, and the emotional complexity of that problem (Cobra Bubbles pointing to Lilo's ruined house and shouting at Nani, "IS THIS WHAT LILO NEEDS?" is so starkly real and heart-breaking), is matched and echoed in the visual splendor and mania of the spectacular no-way-this-is-going-to-work chase scene where Stitch, Nani, Jumbaa, and Pleakley all team up to rescue Lilo from Gantu.

The arcs of the characters all more or less line up. Nani confronts her own failures to be a guardian and parent to Lilo and resolves to do better and learn from her mistakes. Jumbaa, who through most of the movie protests to be evil and uncaring, nonetheless comes to not only care for Pleakley, but more importantly for Stitch too, and ends up assuming the role he never wanted but nonetheless forced himself into from the start: he is Stitch's family. Hell, the moment that reveals this is really clever - Stitch goes out into the wilderness to try and re-enact a scene from a storybook of The Ugly Duckling, hoping, in a very childish way, that his family will show up and love him. Jumbaa arrives and, coldly but not particularly cruelly, tells Stitch that he has no family - that Stitch wasn't born, but created in a lab by Jumbaa himself. But in that moment Jumbaa is proving himself wrong - because Stitch's creator, his parent, DID show up, and did exactly what happens in the story by telling Stitch the truth of what he is. It can't be a surprise, then, that later in the movie Jumbaa ends up deciding to side with Stitch, to help him save Lilo, and to stay on Earth with his child.

David and Pleakley go from being pushed away by Nani and Jumbaa respectively to essentially becoming their partners in the family. The Grand Councilwoman and Cobra Bubbles finally see how cruel their initial solution of isolating Stitch and Lilo from their family would be, and bend the rules they are supposed to enforce to protect and support this weird found family instead of breaking it apart. Gantu and Myrtle are recognized for the assholes they are and face comeuppance in the form of comedic slapstick pratfalls. And most importantly, Stitch and Lilo both get the emotional support and understanding they need to thrive and live happy lives as children should be allowed to do. It's like poetry, it rhymes.

It's a very precise, smartly written movie. It's a delicate balancing act of tone and emotions, with a very strong theme about the need for family and understanding that hits children in their hearts and imaginations. It's extremely well structured.

...

So it'd be kind of colossally fucking stupid to remake it and start fucking around with the core structure of it, chopping out pieces and completely altering others, with no real purpose beyond "Well, the executives thought it might be better if we did this."

[sunniques]

— ¡ 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 !

in which your sister’s boring party takes an exciting turn.

❥ PAIRING: lee heeseung x female reader x park sunghoon

❥ GENRE: threesome au, smut

❥ WORD COUNT: 3.8k

❥ CW/TW: threesome, infidelity, voyeurism, small age gap, oral sex (f & m), unprotected sex, spit roasting, multiple creampies

NOTE: don’t like, don’t read.

“Y/N, will you do me a favor?”

You roll your eyes at the question as irritation crawls up your skin. It’s one of the questions you hate the most, especially coming from your sister. “Another one?”

“Don’t be a bitch. You staying for my party is not even a real favor,” she scowls at you. 

“It actually is because mom and dad won’t let you have it unless I’m here,” you scowl back as your irritation grows. “And I literally had plans today.” 

“I told you you could invite your little friends,” she snaps angrily. “It’s not my fault they didn’t want to come!”

You don’t blame your friends for not wanting to hang around your sister and her friends. They were vapid and annoying. Tolerating them was always a challenge, but at least you would be able to hide in your room this time.

“Whatever. What’s the favor?”

“Will you hang out with Sunghoon when he gets here? He’s gonna feel awkward without Gayoung around, and he actually seems to like you.”

“Heeseung isn’t coming?” You ask, surprised that the two friends who are always attached at the hip aren’t coming together.

“No, he is, but…” your sister’s expression turns a bit bashful. “We’re probably gonna be hanging out alone, and I don’t want Sunghoon to feel awkward. You know how he is.”

You frown at how thoughtless her actions are. Some friend she is. 

It’s likely that Sunghoon declined her invitation since his girlfriend won’t be coming, but obviously your sister’s obsession with Heeseung pushed her to berate him into coming and bringing her crush along. She didn’t handle rejection well which is why she’s still latching onto the hope that Heeseung will finally see her as more than a friend.

A losing battle if you ever saw one.

“Fine,” you say slyly. “I’ll make sure Sunghoon has a great time.”

Sunghoon is the first to admit that he’s a little bit of a pushover. He’s always been one to go along with other people’s whims even if he didn’t necessarily want to. That’s how he ended up at a pool party he didn’t even really want to be at. Initially, he came because he was unable to reject his friend’s invitation. Literally. She didn’t take no for an answer, and she insisted that he bring Heeseung, who she’s liked for a long, long time.

Now, Sunghoon had no problem being a wingman, but unfortunately for everyone involved, Heeseung doesn’t feel the same way about his friend. It’s painfully obvious to their entire friend group, and if Sunghoon hadn’t mentioned that you were also going to be at the party, he knew Heeseung wouldn’t have agreed to come. Somehow his friend doesn’t realize that her longtime crush likes her younger, prettier sister. A cruel irony, really.

“Don’t leave,” Heeseung manages to say through gritted teeth before he’s pulled away by his admirer to do shots.

Sunghoon feels awkward at first. He hardly knows anyone aside from Heeseung and the girl clinging onto him. He’s always been bad at small talk which is all he would be able to have with some of the familiar faces surrounding him. Luckily for him, a very pretty night in shining armor saves him just as he’s about to check his weather app.

“Hoonie!” You exclaim happily as you throw your arms around his neck affectionately. “I’m glad you came! How have you been?”

Usually, it’s awkward for him when people he hasn’t spent a lot of time around try to act friendly, but with you it’s different. You’re always genuine with him, and right now he can tell you’re trying to make him feel less uncomfortable. It’s something Sunghoon has always appreciated about you. You’re so sweet and considerate that he’s never had any issues getting along with you. That’s what makes it so easy for him to talk to you.

“I’ve been good,” he gives you a pretty smile that makes you swoon internally. “I just finished up my internship last week which means I can finally enjoy my summer.”

“That’s great!” You say in a congratulatory way. “I’m surprised, though. I didn’t think my sister’s parties were your idea of enjoying summer.”

“They’re not, but Gayoung said I should come since she’s out of town.”

You don’t ask about his girlfriend because you don’t really care and because anything else you might say will lead back to your sister basically forcing him to come because she wants to hook up with his best friend. Sunghoon is nice enough not to mention that at least.

Taking a glance around your backyard, you realize that now would be the perfect opportunity to get away without being noticed. 

“Let’s go inside,” you tell him after your sister’s friends start to get more rowdy in the pool.

Sunghoon can’t ignore how pretty you are or how good you look in your skimpy bikini. So he nods like he’s bewitched. Your grin is lovely, and he refuses to deny how right it feels when you grab his hand to lead him into the house. Maybe it’s not right for him to allow you to do so, but Sunghoon would do anything to please you. That includes following you into your room.

“Don’t worry,” you say as you go to sit on your bed. “No one will notice we’re gone.”

Sunghoon watches, entranced as you sit on the edge of your bed with your alluring smile. Before he can think of something to say, you’re slipping off your bikini bottoms like it’s not fucking scandalous. His cock twitches when you toss the tiny swimsuit at him and it lands on his shoulder. You spread your legs and part your pretty folds to show Sunghoon how wet you are. He might’ve thought he was dreaming, but the throbbing ache in his cock reminds him that this is all too real.

You’ve been horny all day, and having your sister’s pushover friend fall into your lap like this is an opportunity you can’t just ignore.

Plus, you’re only doing her a favor like she asked.

“Look how wet you made me, Hoonie,” you say through a needy whine. 

“Y/N,” Sunghoon groans, feeling his cock come alive at the sight of your pretty pussy all spread just for him.

“I want you to fuck me. Right here, right now.”

Sunghoon’s cock twitches, and just as he contemplates on how to navigate this delicious development, you say something that makes his control snap.

“You know you want to.”

You smirk when Sunghoon quickly discards his swim trunks before yanking you to the edge of the bed. His long, thick cock is practically throbbing, and you lick your lips in anticipation. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. I didn’t know you were such a slut.”

Your grin is tantalizing, and Sunghoon can’t resist anymore. Gayoung is never this forward when they’re intimate. Maybe it’s because she was a virgin before she started dating him or maybe it’s because she doesn’t like sex as much as he does. Either way, Sunghoon can’t care about his prude little girlfriend at the moment. Especially with how you’re dripping all over yourself and eyeing his cock like it’s the one thing you want more than anything.

And it is. Right now, there’s nothing you want more than Sunghoon’s big dick drilling into you. Your cunt pulses just knowing he’s about to fill you up and stretch you out on his cock.

“Are you sure you can handle it? You think I’m gonna fit in this tight little hole, baby?” Sunghoon wonders as he slaps his cock down on your wet pussy. “Fuck. I’m gonna stretch this pretty pussy out nice and good.”

Again, Sunghoon slaps his leaking cock on your pussy and gently slides it between your slick folds. His fat tip brushes against your clit and makes you whine in need. He gives you a teasing smirk before he slowly sinks into you. The moan you let out is almost as loud as his own groan. Your cute little pussy is hot and tight and so fucking wet. Sunghoon knows that he won’t last long if he just starts pounding into you like he wants.

“God, you’re so big,” you mewl, eyes rolling back when he finally bottoms out inside you.

Sunghoon fucks you slowly, using his thumb to rub your puffy bud. The sounds you’re letting out are driving him insane, and the way your molten pussy grips him is like absolute heaven. This is already better than any of the sex he’s had with his girlfriend, and he knows this definitely won’t be the last time he has you like this. 

You squeal when your bikini top is abruptly yanked off. The way Sunghoon’s dark eyes are locked on your bouncing tits makes you clamp down on his dick and soak it with more of your arousal. Just seeing your juices painting the length of his cock makes him throb inside you.

“Shit. Are you already close?”

“Mhm, yeah,” you whine, moving your hips to grind your pussy on his cock. “Your cock feels too good, Hoon.”

Even though he’s fucking you slow, you’re creaming on his cock in seconds and with a loud cry of his name. You beg him to keep fucking you, and that’s how Sunghoon finds out that cumming once is never enough for you. He grins, loving how cockdrunk you already are. He’s more than happy to indulge you, not caring that he’s betraying two of the closest people in his life by indulging himself in your tight pussy.

That’s why he starts drilling his meaty cock into you at a punishing rhythm, letting you feel every single inch of his hard dick. The only thing Sunghoon can feel is your cunt wrapping perfectly around him, his leaking tip slamming into your spongy cervix every single time he snaps his hips. He plants needy, open-mouthed kisses all over your neck before he goes further down, desperately latching onto one of your pretty nipples. You cry out loudly when he flicks and sucks on the sensitive bud before gently biting it.

Sunghoon’s thrusts are deliciously brutal. It’s like you’re his personal fucktoy and he’s only using your little hole to make himself cum. His tongue circles your nipple before he starts suckling it again, desperately trying to fuck his cock deeper inside you. His hips crash against yours, slamming into you without care until he’s shooting ropes of thick, hot cum right into your awaiting pussy. 

Meanwhile, his best friend is downstairs having the worst time of his life.

Heeseung knows what’s going on. From the moment he got separated from Sunghoon, he saw how you went and cozied up to him. How you pressed your pretty tits together and gave him all of your attention. He can admit he’s jealous. It’s impossible for him not to be when he’s wanted you from the moment your sister introduced you to him.

Your sister had been talking his ear off when he saw you leading Sunghoon inside. Heeseung didn’t hear a single word she said from that point on because his eyes were locked on you and Sunghoon’s intertwined hands.

At the first opportunity he gets, Heeseung goes inside to see just what you and Sunghoon are up to. He stops at the bottom of the stairs, feeling his cock twitch. Despite all the noise from outside, he can still hear you clearly. The way you’re begging, moaning, cumming. Heeseung is jealous and harder than he’s ever been in his life. 

Looking back to make sure no one decided to come inside, Heeseung slowly climbs up the stairs. He stops in front of the wide open door to your room. It’s sick, but he stays to watch Sunghoon fuck your brains out. You sound and look so sweet, just like he imagined you would. Heeseung palms his dick over his swim shorts as he admires your beautiful body and how it bounces every time Sunghoon fucks his cock into you. The remnants of spit on your hard nipples make him envious that his best friend got to taste them first.

“If you’re going to keep staring, you might as well come in.”

It takes you a moment to realize Sunghoon isn’t talking to you. Your dazed mind slowly catches up and finally notices Heeseung standing in the doorway. Seeing him there with a huge bulge in his swim shorts while looking at you so heatedly makes you clench down Sunghoon’s cock, staining it with more of your cream.

You whine when Heeseung walks over to the bed. Especially since Sunghoon keeps fucking you like his friend isn’t watching. It’s nasty, but you feel so good because you love being on display. Heeseung gets on the bed and starts to rub and pinch your puffy clit.

“You’ll let me watch, right, baby?”

It’s easy to nod with a moan. Heeseung smirks and continues to pinch and rub your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your puffy clit is so soft and wet that he thinks he can cum just from touching it.

You can see how hard he is through his trunks, and you remember overhearing your sister and her friends talk about how all of Heeseung’s exes would say how big his dick is. How they all wished they could find out for themselves. You lick your lips and reach over to tug at his shorts. Too bad for your sister and her friends, but you were going to find out first since you obviously can’t pass up this opportunity.

Heeseung doesn’t hide his smirk and helps you take off his swim shorts. He frees his cock easily, and you can’t help but stare. He’s thick and big, easily as big as Sunghoon. You lick your lips and look up at him expectantly.

Like you, Heeseung doesn’t hesitate to take an opportunity that’s in front of him. He taps the tip of his dick against your lips, grinning when you open your mouth eagerly. Sunghoon watches you swallow his friend’s cock with an eagerness that makes his cock throb. He’s never seen anything so hot in his life, and he has to slow down his thrusts because he’s so close to blowing his load. 

“Shit, Y/N. You’re such a good fucking girl,” Heeseung groans, watching your throat bulge as he fucks it. “That’s it, baby. Swallow my cock.”

Your eyes cross when Sunghoon and Heeseung’s thrusts start to sync up. They’re both moaning in tandem as they fuck you, and all you can do is lay there completely fucked out as it happens. It’s easy to cum again as they use you for their pleasure.

“Fuck. I bet her pussy’s nice and tight,” Heeseung hisses in delight. “Cum inside her, Hoon.”

Just hearing those words coming from Heeseung is enough to push Sunghoon over the edge. His head falls back as he empties his load into you. “Fuck, Y/N!” He groans as he fucks his cum deeper into you without stopping.

“That’s it, baby. Take every drop of our cum,” Heeseung moans as cum fills your mouth. 

You’re all panting by the time you’ve ridden out your highs, and you surprise the two friends by asking for more.

Sunghoon smirks as he looks over at Heeseung. “Just wait until you feel this pussy. Our pretty girl’s so fucking tight.”

That’s how you end up on all fours, sandwiched between them. Sunghoon grabs the back of your neck as he smacks his cock against your lips just like his best friend did. You part them with a needy moan, tongue lolling out to entice him. He slaps his leaking tip against the slick muscle with a low groan. God are you hot. Way hotter than his girlfriend could ever be.

“So eager to suck this dick,” he murmurs. “Dirty fucking girl.”

Whining, you lap at the tip of his cock, eagerly tasting the remnants of your orgasm and his cum leaking from the slit. You moan at the taste as you start to lick up and down his cock. 

Your pretty pussy is dripping with Sunghoon’s cum and your own arousal. He sees you get wetter when you fully take his best friend’s cock into your mouth. Seeing you drip with arousal makes Heeseung’s cock throb. Finding out what a needy slut you are just made you hotter in his eyes. You’re absolutely perfect.

“Didn’t expect you to be so greedy, baby,” Heeseung laughs. He rubs his cock across your slit before tapping the head against your swollen clit. With a pleased sigh, he slips his dick inside your fluttering hole. 

Your eyes roll back as you get filled on both ends. It’s a dream to have your mouth full of Sunghoon’s cock and your pussy stuffed full of Heeseung’s dick. The sound of your messy, wet cunt makes Heeseung fuck you harder. Your juices are running down your thighs and his. The wet slapping sounds mix in lewdly with all the moans and groans.

“Fuck, she’s so tight,” Heeseung moans as his hands squeeze your ass. It makes you clench down on the cock spearing you open.

Your eyes take in Sunghoon as he strokes his cock with your throat. His dark eyes filter periodically between you and his friend. He throbs every time he watches Heeseung pound your sopping wet cunt. The two share a filthy smirk while you whimper in pleasure. Your mouth and pussy are stuffed full, and you’ve never felt better.

Heeseung fucks his dick deeper into your cunt with a deep groan. Your slick walls flutter and squeeze his thick cock as he roughly kneads and slaps your ass. Just feeling how tightly you’re gripping him makes Heeseung pump his cock into your clenching pussy with a rough tempo that slams against your g-spot and makes you squeal around Sunghoon’s dick.

Your eyes roll back as Sunghoon shoves his cock deeper down your throat. He hisses at the feeling, cock flexing against your tongue as he keeps rolling his hips. Drool falls in thick strings from your open mouth and slowly drip down the cock you’re sucking. Sunghoon moans and caresses your face, loving how you look so pretty with tears in your eyes and his dick in your mouth.

You’ve never looked so hot, bouncing back eagerly on his friend who’s splitting you open on his cock. Heeseung groans, praises spilling from his lips every time he thrusts his cock back into your sloppy cunt.

“Fuck, baby. You have such a pretty little pussy. All tight and wet just for us,” his words make the coil in your stomach tighten. “Could stuff this sweet pussy all day.”

Your orgasm hits hard and fast. Heeseung grunts loudly, hips stuttering against your ass as your soft pussy walls milk his cock. With a loud whine, your body arches and your eyes roll back in ecstasy as you choke on Sunghoon’s cock. 

“Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart. Now I’m gonna fill your hot little cunt,” his heated voice sends a sick thrill up your spine.

“God. I’m gonna cream in your sloppy mouth, pretty girl. Swallow it all for me,” Sunghoon says as one of his hands grips the back of your head.

Moaning around his dick, your head and hips move to help them reach their own highs. The two friends grunt and groan as they chase their own releases. Sunghoon spills first, cum thick and hot as it coats your mouth and throat. Heeseung follows not too long after, shooting his load deep inside your spasming cunt. 

As Heeseung slowly starts to pull out of your pussy, he curses under his breath when you pulse and flutter and squeeze him even tighter. “Fuck. This sweet little pussy doesn’t want to let go.”

Regrettably, he pulls out of your clenching heat with a wet schlick, making both of them groan at the noise. It rivals the way you start to choke on Sunghoon’s cum. He too pulls out reluctantly, but not before wiping the tears from under your eyes.

So much cum is leaking out of your pretty holes, and the two friends decide that they’re going to spend the rest of the party stuffing you full.

Heeseung lightly smacks your messy pussy. “Don’t think we’re done yet, baby. The day’s still young.”

Your sister pouts petulantly as she walks upstairs to the restroom. It’s been almost an hour since she last saw Heeseung, and now he’s ignoring all her calls and texts. She hasn’t seen you or Sunghoon either. Briefly, she wonders if you hadn’t kept her friend entertained enough to keep him at the party. If Sunghoon left, then his best friend had definitely followed suit. She scows as she thinks about how she’s going to get you back later. It wasn’t the first time you inadvertently ruined her chances with Heeseung, and she’s sick of it.

Just before your sister can get to her destination, she hears moans. Loud, filthy moans.

They’re obviously coming from your room, and she wonders if some of her guests were using your room to have sex. Fuck. You were going to murder her.

She approaches your room with a purpose, wanting to get whoever it was out of your room before you found out. However, she stops at the doorway when she sees something ten times worse than strangers having sex in your bed.

Her longtime crush is sitting at the edge of your bed, bouncing you on his big cock while her friend kneels in front of you two as he eats your pussy. Heeseung is giving you a filthy kiss as he gropes your tits and helps you fuck his cock. She can see cum dripping down his heavy balls as he splits you open. Sunghoon is holding one of your hands as he laps at your clit. Your sister doesn’t miss the way he’s tugging on his cock while you tug on his hair. He’s moaning into your pussy like he’s never tasted anything better.

Your room reeks of sex, and her heart breaks when she realizes it’s because the three of you have been fucking for a while now. When you finally break the kiss, Heeseung starts to trail wet kisses down your neck, still oblivious to her presence. You, however, lift your head and make eye contact with your horrified sister.

Unlike she expects, you don’t snap out of your sex-crazed lust. You only smirk at her. It’s mean and vicious—a smirk that she’s seen countless times before. Usually, it’s her directing that cruel, victorious smirk at you. But now that the roles have switched, she can feel her heart break.

You toss your head back with a loud moan, not caring that your sister is crying because you’re bouncing on Heeseung’s cock while Sunghoon licks your pussy. If anything, this is her fault for thinking her plans took priority over yours. It’s not like she ever had a chance with either of them, anyway. You were just making her see that once and for all.

And so, instead of confronting the three of you like she should have, your sister turns on her heel and walks away to go back to her party.

[spearofheaven]

WHERE THIS FLOWER BLOOMS— featuring NANAMI, KENTO

CONTAINS: papamin fluff, gn! florist reader

“papa, look.”

young yuji shook his father’s pant leg in an attempt to garner his attention, proudly holding up a bean seedling when he’d managed to receive it.

nanami took the plastic pot from his chubby hands, examining it before glancing back over at yuji, “school project?”

“uh huh, uh huh! mines gonna be the biggest one there, like jack and the beanstalk big,” the little boy stretched his arms out to emphasize his point, a tired smile appearing on nanami’s face at his son’s proclamation.

but as the days passed by, yuji started losing hope.

nearly three weeks had gone by and the plant didn’t seem to be growing an inch, the leaves starting to turn brown and wilt. “papa,” he extended the pot over to his father when he came into check his homework, “it’s not growing.”

nanami took the potted plant from him, “have you been watering it?” in his mind, he assumed yuji must’ve forgotten after a couple days. he dipped his hand into the soil, immediately feeling it moist to the touch.

“..i’ve been giving it a cup everyday,” yuji muttered sheepishly. now, nanami wasn’t much of a botanist, but even he could tell that the plant clearly wasn’t happy with that.

“it’s okay, i’m sure we can fix it. we’ll take it to a florist tomorrow,” he assured, quickly easing his son’s worries, “just don’t water it anymore until then.”

from the moment that they stepped foot into your little shop, they were welcomed by the sight of various different flowers blooming in nearly every corner of the room. they were well taken care of, a couple of seedlings even having a small radio next to them to stimulate growth.

“hi, welcome in,” you wiped your hands on your apron as you approached the duo, “is there anything in particular you’re looking for or someone in particular?”

“no, nothing like that. we’re here because my son’s having problems growing out his bean plant, i was hoping you’d be able to help,” nanami explained, holding out the seedling for you to take.

you took the plastic pot from him, placing it on the counter. noticing the same things that nanami had last night—from the discoloration of the leaves to the mushy stem. “he’s been watering it everyday,” the older man muttered upon noticing the furrow in your brow.

a low wince left your lips when you took the plant out of the moist soil, a frown making itself prominent on the young boy’s face. “so, if you look closely, the dark color of the roots means they started to rot,” you explained, setting the plant down.

yuji’s bottom lip started to quiver, gripping onto his father’s khakis for dear life. “there’s nothing you can do?” nanami questioned, pushing his glasses up before folding his arms across his chest.

“since the rot’s pretty visible on the roots, i’d have to say that the plant’s beyond saving,” you responded, “but i can help you out with growing a new one if that’s something you’re interested in.”

“please, papa,” yuji looked up at his father with a pitiful expression on his face, looking like he was about five seconds away from breaking out into tears.

nanami let out a quiet sigh before he glanced over at you, “please give us a new plant.”

you came back with a small pot and a bean seed, packing a bit of soil into the bottom. “so, how do we know when it’s time to change its pot?” nanami asked, watching each step with careful precision.

“so, they’re usually okay for about 4-6 weeks. if you notice the roots crowding on top of the soil or coming out of the drainage holes, then it’s definitely time to transport,” you explained, packing the seed onto the soil before giving it about an inch of water, “when that’s time, the roots should be strong enough to sustain the plant.”

nanami nodded, taking notes on a notepad before setting it back into his pocket. “you’re free to come back if you have any questions or if you just wanna make sure that the plant’s okay,” you gave him a small smile, handing the pot over to the small boy.

it was almost like he was never upset, taking the plant with the utmost care in the world. “and uh, try not to water it too much. keep the soil moist for the first week and then just do it every three days,” you called out before they left, giving them a small wave.

nanami took you up on your offer the next week, stepping foot into your shop after his shift at the office. he didn’t really have any questions per se, but he found your shop to be the escape that he was looking for. it didn’t hurt that you were also the only other person apart from yuji that didn’t want to make him rip his hair out.

“you said to come in,” nanami cleared his throat when he stepped foot in front of the counter.

“i did. any questions that you may have?” you gave him that same polite smile, barely leaning against the counter.

he nodded, “i was hoping you could explain to me how the growth process is.”

nanami knew. he knew he could’ve just searched it up on google and he would’ve gotten the same results. but he found himself hooked on every word you were saying, your voice soothing the stress he had at work today. he found himself wishing it was you he was listening to instead of his annoying clients.

as the weeks progressed, the seedling began blooming into a plant. and with that, a slight romance between you and kento (he insisted). a romance that neither acknowledged but were both painfully aware of—the slight brush of fingers, the awkward hesitation before reluctantly pulling them away, the shoulder grabbing.

conversations that weren’t simply about yuji’s bean plant anymore but rather about each other’s personal lives, conversations that you found yourself lost in for hours on end.

“what made you decide to want to open your own shop?” the two of you were settled outside a cafe once your shift ended, yuji snacking on a muffin while the two of you talked.

you tapped your chin, letting out a quiet hum, “i was interested in flowers and growing them, but i never considered it a career path. i tried doing nursing, then communications, and nothing really stuck out to me. i saw that the local was open for renting and decided to try it out.”

“it’s a beautiful shop you have there. as selfish as it may sound, i’m glad that those career paths didn’t work out. otherwise we might’ve never met.”

“i’m glad they didn’t work out either,” you let out a quiet laugh of your own, a sound that nanami found himself wanting to hear more of. “how’d you get into stocks?”

nanami let out an exasperated huff, going into detail and talking about his long list of regretful career choices before diverting the topic onto something else. the two of you talked up until the cafe closed, and even then, nanami offered to walk you back home.

simply to be a gentleman, of course. not because he found himself wanting to spend time with you, no. and definitely not because yuji wanted to be around you nearly as much as he found himself wanting to be. nope. definitely not.

as much as he tried to deny his growing feelings, seeing you at least once a week had become a part of his routine. finding himself more irritable if he didn’t get his fix. until, that was, yuji had to submit his project in. giving nanami no more excuses to go into your shop.

that was, unless…

yuji skipped into the shop with nanami trailing behind him, a smile from cheek to cheek on his face. “hi,” he propped himself on the counter, looking over at the book you had opened in faux interest while he held a bouquet of yellow lilies.

“hey,” you returned the greeting with a smile of your own, “i’m guessing your project went well?”

“uh huh, mine was the biggest one there! thank you!” yuji ran up behind the counter, wrapping his arms around your leg. nanami was about to protest before he saw you wrap your own arms around the boy, welcoming the embrace.

instead, he settled for, “yuji, you had a question you wanted to ask them.”

“oh, yeah, me and papa wanted to know if you wanted to have ice cream with us! since i did so well on the project,” yuji beamed up, looking up at you with puppy eyes. he held out the lilies towards you, “papa picked these out just for you. i think he likesss you. saw him cheesing when you texted.” (or at least yuji assumed it was you; his papa didn’t have many friends).

you didn’t need to know that he’d tried to grow his own—only to have the same green thumb that his son did despite buying five different gardening books. not now, anyways.

somehow you doubted he was cheesing but you nodded along anyways. you glanced over at nanami, raising a brow before asking yuji, “you think your papa likes me?”

and you could’ve sworn you caught a hint of a blush on nanami’s cheeks before he cleared his throat, facing over to the gardenias. avoiding looking at you at every cost.

you leaned down, cupping a hand over yuji’s ear as if it were a heavily guarded secret, “i think i like your papa too,” your whisper was loud enough for nanami to pick up, you made sure of it, “i’d love to get ice cream with you.”

A/N: whaaatttt? you’ve seen this b4? no you haven’t 🙅‍♀️

[starshipsofstarlord]

like rabbits | young!daryl dixon

summary. merle is humanised by his strict and overwhelming tentativeness of protecting his younger brother daryl and his girlfriend in the outbreak. but they are less helpful around the camp as they have other priorities with what to spend their time on… and others accidentally notice that too (5.3k)

warnings. smut 18+ mdni, daryl and reader are 18/18+ in this fic, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, pull out method, fingering, handjob, a pattern of people walking in on them, oral (male receiving), mentions of death and abuse and drugs, alcohol consumption, arguing, swearing, young!daryl au

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

Merle barked a laugh as he socialised around the singeing yet controlled campfire that Shane had set up, one of his last beers in his hand as he was met with gruntled expressions. “We migh’ as well shack up, ay blondie, it’s the end of the fuckin’ world.” Andrea was not impressed as she wrapped her arm around her younger sister Amy, wanting the drunkard to stop his crudity. The light of the hungry flames licked his face; it was the only positive attention that was being deposited to him. The likeness Shane and Dale had of the old dealer was thinning, the only reason they had allowed him into their survivalist ranks was not for him; it was for the kids that were currently holed up in their aligned tent.

“You’re a pig Merle.” Andrea bit back, only humouring the intoxicated redneck further. Everyone was tired of this same old bullshit that spewed from Merle’s lips, he was rude and foul mouthed, he even slurred curses that most of them had never heard spoken aloud. But as foolish as his addicted actions were, he could be useful in some ways, even as defiantly slim as that list was. He was useful as additional muscle to a team out for a run, he had no problems or qualms when it came to killing the walkers, he would pierce their mindless brains until they fell down and became motionlessly dead, being nothing more than carcasses of the already deceased.

They had the pariah to judge him, they all thought they were better than him due to the fact that none of them chose to voice the indignant truth; the world was prepared to crash and burn, and they would all die in the bitter aftermath. None of them were even slightly special, the playing field was now balanced and there was no social ladder in which they were above him. But he didn’t act tough and protective for himself, no, it was for his little brother Daryl and the girl that had his brother wrapped around her finger. Prior to the turmoil outbreak, they had each been in a terrible situation, and it was all down to the people that had brought them into the world that had already been difficult even in those days.

Mr Dixon and Mr Y/L/N had been old friends, their past throwing back to their high school days, before either of them dropped out of course. Neither one had any adoration for the offspring that they enforced to struggle through their livelihoods, they were selfish and addicted to inflicting harm to the younger generations of their tainted bloodlines. Merle had escaped the physical wrath, leaving Daryl abandoned with the villainous figure of their father, occasionally he would drop by the Y/L/N household to earn himself some quick influx of cash, knowing that the man residing within could never justify rejecting something that made him trigger happy.

But as soon as the unexpected broadcast flooded the television and radio channels of a dwelt illness that reanimated the dead and passed onto those living, Merle returned to the dreaded place where he had grown up. He had been dealt his fair share of misery long before Daryl was birthed into the world, he had scars too, the difference was however was that he was not ashamed of them. He did not care for the quality that his body was in, hence why he had induced himself with the precipitation of illegal drugs, skyrocketing through a high that helped him in forgetting the terrible things that he had bared witness to in his youth.

“Whatever prude," Merle's bite back, fighting off his own shallow insecurities that he swallowed down to hoard in the pit of his drug digesting stomach, knowledgeable that he would be going to rest alone without the sweet touch of a woman to daunt his mind with calmness. He hurled out a glob of saliva from his mouth, the pool of spit and alcohol landing with spite on the ground as he stalked away from the other survivors, relieved to finally be departing from them. They were a bunch of asses anyways, Merle thought, shaking his head at them on their high horses, looking down their noses at him. There were only two souls in the camp that he actually liked, and none of them were bestowed with that rare gift.

Giggles fell from your lips as you relished in the feeling of Daryl’s lips pressing with frantic need against your neck, making your head lull backwards with the rush of pleasure as his hand roamed around beneath the confines of your jeans and underwear. It was nighttime, the others that habited the makeshift camp would either be asleep in their own tents or huddled around the fire that they often set up close to the RV. It had given the two of you a chance to spend some time together alone, and with intimacy. The both of you often hunted together, leaving the rows of salvaged tents to journey into the thick of the woods, mostly catching small prey like squirrels and rabbits if you were lucky.

As much as you would have liked to, there was no chance of you fucking out in the open wild; Daryl would not allow it, knowing that there was a large risk of the undead stumbling upon you fornicating. The last thing he wanted was to allow your life to be at risk, and whilst he didn’t shelter you, he did all he could to protect you, even in spite of your ability to aim his crossbow and shoot a shotgun. It was logical of course, dwindling the chance of getting caught off guard by the leering undead, but the thought still turned you on.

“Ya like tha’?” Daryl preened you for reassurance as he slipped a finger into your slick and welcoming walls, your answer being a gasp that uncontrollably left your mouth. He was so fucking good with his fingers, and he didn’t even know it. After all the times he had made you cum, you would have expected him to be aware, but not only did he require confirmation, he wanted you to admit that he was pleasuring you. It did something to his brain, circuiting it into an arousal pledged satisfaction, simply from hearing his name or a defining ‘yes’ fall benevolently from your lips. And so your mouth murmured his name, stifling the volume that it wished to be spoken at, for the sake of not drawing in the curiosity of walkers or your fellow survivors.

He began to suckle deeper on your flesh, bringing the blood beneath to the surface, ensuring that there would be bruises left after his lips had dislodged. Your head rolled back, eyes closing from the addictive satisfaction that he gifted your body, hips lifting without shame towards the press of his fingers, forcing them bury deeper within your tight walls. If there was no threat to your lives by doing so, you would constantly remain in this tent, with your bodies colliding in a desperate passion that brought an amorously filled ecstasy to both of you. He shushed you, withdrawing his lips and moving them onto your mouth, teasingly biting your lip as he watched you unfold into bliss because of him.

“Fuck me. Ya two practicin’ fer a kid or somethin’? ‘Cause if you are, that ain’t how ya do it.” Daryl and you shot apart, faces warm from embarrassment as Merle stood in the opening of the tent that neither one of you had heard be unzipped, and your boyfriend retracted his hand from beneath your jeans and panties, subtly bringing it to lay down beside him and away from his brother’s gaze. Your breath was laboured, and you knew that it was obvious to anyone that could see you that you had endured the highs of an orgasm. After the shock wore from Daryl he scowled and rolled his blue eyes at Merle, visibly pissed off for the uncalled for interruption.

“Don’ ya know how ta knock?” Daryl barked with evident irritation in his tone, glaring at his only sibling. Whilst he was grateful for all Merle had done to ensure that he and you survived thus far into the outbreak, it was all forgotten in the present, for he had ultimately not been thinking with his mind and instead a far different part of his body. He’d just been getting started in his eyes, Daryl had anticipated to make you cum and cum again until you finally drifted off into a noiseless sleep that did not consist of the nightmares that the walkers had sprung into your mind. It was not only a distraction, but a show of his strong affection, and that opportunity had now been diminished thanks to the unwelcome intrusion.

“One problem there little brother is there ain’t any doors.” Smart ass Merle, you thought, although you could not meet his eyes as he chuckled at the antics of the pair of you. Merle would not admit it, but his decision to find you both had been out of concern, he wanted to check on you and make sure you were within the safest vicinity that you could be for now; the camp. He was relieved that you both were, but he could never miss an opportunity at teasing Daryl, it was far too enjoyable for him to rile up his brother. “Though ya been knockin’ the wind outta that girl, yer fuckin’ like yer gonna die tomorrow. Ya okay there Y/N/N?”

The attention that Merle had drawn towards you made you shuffle nervously atop of the sleeping bag, and from your embarrassment Daryl’s anger only increased. His nostrils flared in rage, his eyebrows lowering in a firm frown that was aimed at none other than Merle. He too felt embarrassed, having evaded his brother walking in for so long, and finally it had happened all on its own. The two of you had presumed that Merle would spend a longer amount of time by the fire where it was warm, whilst you and Daryl shared each other’s body heat, and that afterwards Merle would return to his own tent beside yours. How wrong you had been. “Get the fuck out Merle.”

Daryl was practically seething, causing his brother to laugh harder, clutching his stomach as though his amusement brought him pain. His face was red as he chortled, and he waved his hand towards you both, as though his the blame for his laughter was on you, and it was without intention. “Okay, okay.” Merle steadied himself, reaching for the zipper of the tent as he stepped back onto the grass. “You crazy kids have fun, don’t do nothin’ I wouldn’t.” He sent his brother a wink that made you shiver, and he finally closed the partition to the outdoors, leaving Daryl and you in one another’s presence once more.

“He definitely killed the mood, didn’ he?” You didn’t even need to answer him, it was transparent that the mood was beyond dead, and you shuffled around on the sleeping bag that was somehow large enough for the pair of you to share, slipping into it and reaching for the travel lamp as Daryl slipped in behind you, his hands holding your body as he sighed from the frustration that boiled within him. He closed his eyes, wishing to erase the event from the timeline, but it was impossible. If only his damning brother had not interrupted, then neither of you would be going to bed with a hunger that had been off out by the careless intrusion.

Glenn was not that much older than you and Daryl, a couple of years you supposed, and you liked the young man that had previously attained the job of a pizza boy and got along with him well. He was kind unlike many others seemed in the camp, and he was startled as Shane grabbed his arm, pulling him to the side, looking at him expectedly. He hadn’t long returned from a run, so he supposed the reason for being leered at had something to do with that, though his expectations were befallen when Shane spoke. “You seen Y/N? She’s not with the other women?”

Ah yes, the misogynistic duty that was reserved for the ladies of the camp, washing the dirtied clothes in the nearby lake. If things were not in order the older man did not like it, he had to ensure that things within the band of survivors ran swiftly since he had taken on the role of leader that had entailed no vote to sanction him in such a position. Glenn shook his head, pursing his lips, though he had witnessed you scatter silently across the camp without a word exchanged. You had simply nodded at him in a passing greeting, for some reason excitement affecting your speed. The last thing your friendly acquaintance wanted was to piss him off, and the glare he received for his denial was invoking.

It made him think that if something happened to you amidst escorting yourself into the woods, then the fault would be on him. He didn’t want anything to happen to you and keeping the truth to himself could potentially bring you the consequences of harm or death. You seemed as though you could take care of yourself, but no one truly knew what extent to. The knowledge that you had endured the hardship of living amongst the difficult town alongside Daryl and Merle was common, and you would go out hunting with the two of them, but Glenn had never seen you handle yourself against walkers. No one except the brothers had, and that was what concerned him most, especially considering both of the Dixons refused your company on runs, claiming that it was for your safety.

From Shane’s endless glowering, Glenn gulped, inadvertently gulping and readying his breath to speak. “She went out there.” Glenn’s hand pointed beyond the trees, the lush green leaves motionless for there was no breeze that whisked through the air, and Shane’s eyes followed direction of his index finger, an instantaneous frown contorting his features as he looked back at his fellow survivor with almost disbelief.

“By herself?!” The volume of Shane’s voice was loud, contorted into a mixture of absolute worry and prominent anger. Glenn should have told someone, him, he thought to himself. If you were to die his leadership would no doubt be questioned, and he quite enjoyed holding some kind of power over people, he always had. The world in its current state was dangerous, and he checked his hip to ensure that his weapon was still plastered at his side, and he began walking with a pace towards the bordering woods that you had disappeared into. “Come on Rhee, you’re coming with me to find her.” Fucking Dixons and their plus one, they were more trouble than they were worth. He thought you were lucky to be a young woman, otherwise he wouldn’t have put his life on the line to go out and rescue you.

With no resilience to the orders, Glenn followed after him, guilt ebbing at his chest, dreading the outcome in which a walker had stumbled upon you and pursued you as prey. He should have held more concern when you had meandered off, but he had been tired and distracted from the run into the city. You never went into the woodland in solitary, Daryl was usually with you, and if he had been, he hadn’t seen the youngest Dixon. If something had the unfortunate occurrence of happening to you, then the fault would be on no one else other than him. And he knew that to be the truth.

Finally, you were alone. With Daryl. You had chased after him some minutes later when he had stated that he was going to search for ‘some squirrels or somethin’’, the evening prior was when Merle had stumbled upon a scene that he would forever tease you about, and you knew that Daryl was dwelling in his own frustrations. He dared not speak of it, feeling ridiculed and like a child that his brother had witnessed something he would never live done, opting instead to shoot something than regard you with his overflowing lust. If anyone were to walk in you again, he was certain that he would grab his crossbow and aim in their direction, truly pissed off for yet another interruption to expelling both his attraction and love towards you.

Daryl had never wanted to fuck in the woods, it was too dangerous, but you had mentally plucked at a compromise that satisfied both of you. The twigs and dried leaves were hard and irritating beneath your knees as you pulled at both his pants and boxers, leaving his cock exposed to your desperate gaze. You could never get enough of Daryl, even as he tried to maintain his stature, his back flush against the ascending bark of a tree, crossbow loaded and in one hand in case a walker were to attempt to kill and then feast on you both. It was the compromise, and Daryl released a staggered breath as you wrapped your palm around his length, leading his cock into your awaiting mouth.

He stifled a strewn gasp, forcing his eyes to remain open so he could spy the undead heading towards you if they did, his other hand softly coiling in your hair, playing with the strands around your face and gently pushing them out of your peripheral. “Fuck darlin’, you know how ta drive me crazy.” And that you did, such was proven as you took him deeper into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat, and his whole body shuddered, becoming frail from pleasure. The sounds of nature danced around you, the birds rustling in the branches above being the only noise other than Daryl’s cock wetly slipping in and out of your mouth as you bobbed your head.

It was utter ecstasy to be some place that Daryl ironically felt safe, and to have you with him, intimately suckling on his most sensitive nerves. Your hands grasped his hips, allowing you to buck your head forwards slightly faster, drool sputtering around your chin as you began to gag on his endowed length. With one last look up at the crumbling man above you, whose eyes scoured the landscape skittishly, you closed your own, lashes fluttering upon your cheeks as you poured all your focus into making him feel good. He deserved a break, and you were more than happy to comply and give that to him,

There was no rush, it was the two of you in a space that it felt like no other soul could interrupt. You gorged yourself on the taste of his flesh, wanting to feel his seed warmly spill down your throat, and make his brain feel elated throughout the turmoil of instinctual survival that it processed on repeat. He stroked over your hair again, playing with the strands as the muscles in his legs tensed from the sensations that were rocketing into his mind. His fist clenched firmer on the grip of his crossbow, knuckles turning white as he bit his lip and slowly moved his hips in accordance to the motion of your head.

A rustle upon the ground caught him off guard, and his defences raised as he pushed you with care away, quickly tucking himself back into his jeans although the fly and button were still open. You stood beside him, sheathing the machete from the ground with urgent administrations, not composing your fucked out appearance that had come from using your mouth on him, expecting a walker to appear in view. Though there were no walkers, only two men that made Daryl outwardly groan and roll his oceanic irises around in the whites of his eyes. Another interruption. Why could no one just leave the two of you alone? Shane and Glenn looked between the both of you, minds piecing together the implications that they had disturbed. “Seriously?! The fuck!”

Daryl exclaimed, wedging his boots into the earth below as he tried to numb the heat that was battling to the surface of his face, glaring indignantly towards the two. You hastily wiped your chin, thinning your lips as you silently tilted your head in question in Glenn’s direction, uncertain as to why their presence had broke through the moment that you and Daryl had been craving. Thinking that the woods would be a private place was a good idea initially, however it proved that you couldn’t get peace anywhere. “I’m thinking the same thing.” Shane’s authority brewed the air with tension, as he narrowed his eyes at you, scoffing lightly. Yes, he had been young once, but the world was not as safe as it used to be, and logically that should have rendered in your thoughts. “The two of you shouldn’t be out here - doing that.”

Glenn didn’t back him up verbally, unsure of what to say, and knowing that if he did open his mouth it could possibly make things worse. Daryl however was not going to take Shane’s shit, he always saw himself as above others, as though he still wore a badge and it meant something on the tarnished lands. “It don’t stop you and Lori from sneakin’ off ta fuck ou’ here.” Shane’s face became swamped with realisation that him and his late friend’s wife hadn’t been as cautious as they had initially perceived. “Ya don’ think I hear ya two scamperin’ off when I get back from huntin’. B’cause I do, and I ain’t the only one.” The pizza boy stepped backwards as to not get involved with the puncturing of Shane’s ego, watching as Shane huffed beneath his breath.

“Keep your mouth shut Dixon, you don’t know anything. And head back to camp - the both of you.” You wanted to punch him; no one spoke to Daryl like that, especially not in front of you, and as you went to step forward Daryl grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers so that you could walk past the prick together without the risk of causing a fight. Your boyfriend spat on the forest floor as he by Shane, glaring daggers at the man that had to ruin everything. Shane just didn’t want to hear the truth, his pride was far too large to be brought into reality by ‘a no good redneck’, but that was what had happened. You knew that Glenn would apologise later, and as you stalked through the woods, you heard no verbal interaction between the two men that walked some ways behind the pair of you.

Daryl was a mess. Merle was missing, having removed his own hand to escape the latches of the handcuffs that Lori’s apparently alive husband has clamped him in on that rooftop. He had wanted to start a fight, more so when they came up empty handed when going to retrieve his brother, but you had stopped him. It would only cause more trouble than what was already prevailing, and you did not want Daryl to get in the thick of it. He had already cursed him out, threatened to propel ammunition from his crossbow into Rick, and none of it had brought Merle’s return. In the comfort of your shared tent he had cried, his tears streaming down his face as you coddled him with comfort, trying with all your might to usher the tears away.

And finally they had come to an end, his tear ducts unable to produce any more moisture, though Daryl’s anger had not dispersed. You ran a hand along his shoulder blade, placing a peck on the sleeveless area as you laid atop of the sleeping bag together. There were no words that would decrease his sadness; you wanted Merle back too, he had always looked out for you when it came to your father, and now both of them were gone. One was dead and you dreaded where Merle was, he had to be somewhere, he’d never given in easily in the old life he had, so you knew that he wouldn’t now, no matter the hurdles he had to cross to survive. “I dunno whatta do.” Daryl mumbled as he pulled you closer, and you stroked his hair with affection, smiling tightly as he looked at your face.

“I dunno either.” You admitted, brushing your nose against his, wanting to be lost in the quiet of the night. The lantern was back on and it illuminated his face, and you could see that he was tired, drained of most of the little hope that he had initially held. “But he’ll come back for us. He always has.” You reminded him, knowing that the first place that Merle had gone when the radio began to divulge the distractions of the outbreak was to the two of you. If it hadn’t been for him, neither of you may have remained alive. It was unexpected in the moment but Daryl kissed you, cupping your face with his rough hands, starting off slow yet with no motives to keep the physical connection short. His mouth glided softly against your lips, and you opened them, allowing him easy entrance.

He breathed through his nose as he pressed his mouth harder against your own, slinking his tongue behind your teeth, rolling atop of you, placing each of his hands above your shoulders. “I love you Y/N Y/L/N.” He states earnestly, pulling away from your face to trail tentative kisses along your fragile throat. He needed this. You needed this. It was exactly what you required to feel something other than the tormenting anguish that chortled within every breath. His hands groped at your sides, slipping beneath your shirt and onto the flesh of your waist, seeking the warmth that pulsed in your veins.

“I love you Daryl Dixon.” It was something he often required to hear, and you never faulted him for the reassurance of your emotions; he had been through so much at such a youthful age, and you understood the stability that the heartfelt confessions of love that it brought within his mind. He engulfed your lips once more, the desperation tightening its grip between you as it became a frenzy of removing one another’s clothes that were kicked to the other side of the tent, leaving your bare bodies rubbing against each other. Daryl wasted minimal time to enter you, brandishing himself and you with the pleasure that you had sought, motioning slow thrusts into your walls as though he was trying to memorise just how you felt.

Hot air left his lips and fanned in a tantalising manner against your jugular, as you inhaled deeply, lulling in the erotic sensations that bespoke through your body. Your hands gripped his shoulders with tight vigour, descending and running gently down his back and upon the scarring that contorted his flesh with prominently visible lashes that you could feel beneath your caring fingertips. It broke you that a man could exert such hatred onto their own child, and whilst your father had been no saint himself, he had never struck you in such a way. But no matter the state in which Daryl’s body was in, you found him to be a beautiful diamond within a hoard of boring rocks, capturing your attention with anything that he proceeded to do.

It was more than love that you felt for him, it was a transcendent connection that you had never witnessed anyone else hold their partner with. His hips rotated, grinding against your own, clashing the bones in their derelict midst of chasing an orgasm of which you had both failed to achieve in recent times. There were always interruptions, and you loathed each and every one of them. To be together again, with the same goal rolled waves of endorsed gratefulness into your bloodstream, as you clung wantonly onto your boyfriend, needing him more than oxygen in the moment. “Daryl.” His name made his head raise, the whisper that had fallen from your lips making his pupils swivel around his irises, the black pebbles enlarging with his own portion of lust.

“Yeah?” He huffed through his staggered breaths, continuing to move, cradling the back of your head with his triceps so that they would cushion the behind of your skull. His tone was tentative whilst simultaneously being strained from the proving pleasure of having his cock stuffed into your cunt, and he looked into your eyes with such focus that it made your heart skip multiple beats. As you held onto him, you opened your mouth after licking your lips, prepared to douse him in verbal love, but before the words could spew from your form, the crunching of footsteps outside of the tent and the clearing of the throat interrupted.

“Daryl, you in there?” Fucking Rick Grimes. Daryl paused his movements, although he did not remove himself from your slick encasement of his length, and you could see his patience begin to boil over. Your lover grunted out as an uninterested stern reply, and you felt relieved that the man held some jurisdiction and did not simply enter the tent, forgetting that privacy still remained in existence. You knew that Rick intended to extend an olive branch, wanting to apologise to Daryl, believing that his outrage had not only be compelled by Merle’s figure being absent, but also because of his age that was far younger than the law enforcer’s. “I just wanted to-“

“Piss off Grimes.” Daryl huffed, not wanting to hear the excuses that the man could disperse with pity upon him. He’d heard enough whispers regarding the situation around the camp, and he was tired of it. “‘M tryna fuck mah girlfrien’ here, so if y’all so fuckin’ kindly excuse us…” His honest confession startled you that he would outright admit what the two of you were doing, but it seemed to do the trick, with Rick muttering an ‘okay’ and shuffling off, presumably back to his family and Shane. Daryl heaved a sigh of relief, pressing his forehead onto your chest, and the flush of his heat warmed your body. His cock twitched inside of you, reminding you more than his admission to the cop had on where you were and what you had been doing. “Sick of these fuckin’ cockblockers.” He muttered, causing you to laugh in wordless agreement.

As you began to chortle out words that supported his opinion, a gasp was pulled from your throat as he began to move again, his thrusts deeper than previously, hitting the benevolent spot inside of you that made you see stars and distorted all thoughts from your brain. He leaned into you, pushing his weight onto your own as he made you feel every inch of him, knowing not to adjust his position as he could feel you tightening around his shaft, the feeling making his eyes roll back in his head. He removed one of his arms from beneath your head, trailing it down your chest and stomach to your clit, toying with the bundle of nerves that brought you over the edge, cumming around him.

He fucked you faster, now focusing on his own high, and before he could get carried away he pulled out of your warmth as your hand reaches to coil around his length, sliding your hand up and down it, bringing him to his orgasm that spilt over your stomach in a pool of white. “Fuck.” He heartily laughed, breathlessly leaning down to trail kisses in various places of your skin before pecking your lips. Daryl knew that soon he would have to stalk out of the tent to listen to Rick and see what he wanted, but for now he drowned in your presence, kissing you over and over, relieved that his frustrations had gotten the better of him and sent those that dared interrupt elsewhere. You pulled him down into your side, watching as he reached for the shirt he had previously been wearing, wiping the mess that he had made from you with tentative strokes.

[judesmoonbeauty]

𝕁𝕦𝕕𝕖 𝕁𝕒𝕫𝕫𝕒'𝕤 𝕄𝕒𝕕 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝔼𝕟𝕕: ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟛 + 𝕃𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣

Fan translation only. Accuracy not 100%. Please expect grammatical errors. Creative liberties are taken. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere, claim them as your own, or use them without my permission. Thank you for your support! ☾.

Kate: Ellis, I’ve got a favor to ask.

Kate: Would you lie with me?

Ellis: ………

Ellis’ eyes briefly widen in shock, but gradually they begin to brim with curiosity.

Ellis: Sure, what kind of lie?

Kate: The kind of lie that’ll shock Jude.

[Transitions to Kate’s lodging room]

Leaving Ellis behind to wait, I returned to my room at the inn and began packing my luggage.

I plan to explain to the innkeeper and her husband who helped me, that Ellis is my ”butler who has come to collect me.”

(I thought it would take longer to clean up since I've been here for so long.)

But the only luggage I had was the suitcase and the pocket watch Jude left behind.

(That’s all.)

I sort of laughed as I stared at my luggage sitting there alone in the room.

I thought that I had lived a not-so-short life, and had acquired many important things.

But…..maybe the things that are truly important to me don’t even fit into this one suitcase.

My gaze swiftly shifts out the window.

The surface of the sea glistened and reflected the moonlight diffusely.

If there’s a turning point in my fate—

This is clearly it.

(Let’s move forward guided by the moon.)

I’m positive that tonight’s moon will lead me to my destiny.

Kate: ……Let’s do it.

With only my suitcase and my pocket watch, I turned my back on the beautiful, glistening scenery.

[Transitions to Raven Ltd. - Neutral POV]

Some days later, Ellis parted from Kate and returned to Raven Ltd.

Ellis: I’m back, Jude.

Jude: Yer late as hell. Leave ya be ‘n yer loafin’ around.

Jude: ……So?

Ellis: ………So?

Jude: …..Tch.

When Jude raised an eyebrow, Ellis clapped his hands.

Ellis: Ohh, you mean Kate.

Ellis: I kept an eye on her, and she’s still staying in that town.

Ellis: But it looks like she’s bored because there’s nothing to do there, so she’s going on a trip with the innkeeper for a while.

Jude: …..Just her ‘n the innkeeper?

Ellis: It only seems like it’s just those two, but there’s really three of them.

Ellis: The guard you told me to hire is also with Kate, to protect her without her knowing about it.

Ellis: He’ll send routine letters to update you about her well-being.

Ellis: Of course, the letters will be sent to Raven Ltd.

Ellis: —So, here you go.

After reiterating the terms Jude had stipulated, Ellis handed over a letter.

Ellis: The first one’s arrived.

Jude: That was very fast.

Ellis: He’s a very good guard.

When Jude opens the letter, he finds a cheerful message inside which is completely different from what the unpolished handwriting suggests.….

Kate is currently traveling by train to a town thirty minutes north from that seaside town. Today she ate three ice creams, and then did some sightseeing around the town. There’s no sign of suspicious people around. That concludes the report.

Jude: What, three ice creams. I don’t need that kinda intel.

Ellis: I’m glad she’s having fun.

Jude: Don’t give a lick if she’s havin’ fun or not.

Jude: I only hired him to t’keep her safe.

Ellis: Hmm, I see.

Jude gruffly puts the letter back into the envelope and tosses it onto the desk.

Ellis: Hey, Jude.

Jude: What is it?

Ellis: Are you going to keep on protecting Kate?

Ellis: For a lifetime separated from her, not even meeting her?

Jude: Gotta problem with that?

Ellis: Not really. If that’s what you’ve decided to do, then go for it.

Ellis walked towards the exit wearing his usual smile, but then abruptly stopped in front of the door and turned around—

Ellis: Jude. How happy are you right now?

Jude's amethyst eyes broadened for a moment.

Jude: I dunno, idiot.

From that point on, every few days, Jude would receive a letter from the bodyguard Ellis had hired—

Jude: ……So, how’s the princess doing this time?

Alone in the president’s office, Jude cuts open the letter.

Kate, is currently traveling to a town 30 minutes further north by train. Today, she was stuffing her cheeks with a steak bigger than her face, and looked extremely happy. There’s so sign of suspicious people around. That concludes the report.

Jude: ……….Pff-aha, such a foodie. Ya really are a carefree princess.

Jude: “Looked extremely happy”, huh. That’s good.

The words he muttered triggered the memory of the question that Ellis asked him.

“Jude. How happy are you right now?”

[Flashback - Switches from Neutral to Jude POV]

There was no word more distant from me than "happiness."

They say that we all have happy memories that we can recall.

But when I combed through my memories - I couldn’t find anything like that.

I may have certainly felt a glimpse of happiness during that time I spent with my sister.

However….

Jude’s sister: Hey, bwudda. Pwomise, when ya get wich, take me to da moon.

Emotions stronger than happiness had been dominating my heart for a long time.

Frustration, sorrow, resentment, hatred and — and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness.

[Flashback Ends]

It was the same after my sister died.

Hating and being hated. Killing and nearly being killed.

Happiness…..was as far away as the moon is suspended in the sky.

I thought I would die like this, never knowing the taste of happiness.

And yet—

[Flashback]

Kate: Don't take it for granted that people will laugh at what’s precious to you.

Jude: …..Don’t start lecturin’ me all o’ sudden like some ol’ man.

Kate: I’m still just barely a lady, right?

Jude: Pff- Yer hopeless.

[Flashback Ends]

Jude: ……Hah.

Kate’s words and annoying smile shine in the pitch black depths of hell.

Jude: Ah….Shite, what now?

I try to shake it off, but the memories keep flooding me….

[Flashback]

Kate: Jude.

Jude: What?

Kate: We don’t know what will happen to us in the future. I don’t know where we’re headed, or how we’ll end up.

Kate: I don’t know anything, but I can say this for certain….

Kate: ….I’ll always be by your side.

[Flashback Ends]

Kate’s so dazzling that you can’t help but squint your eyes.

A woman named Kate.

Who is like the moon floating in the sky.

The little time I had spent with Kate, if I could put it into words—

“Jude. How happy are you right now?”

Jude: Happy this, happy that, it’s so annoyin’.

Jude: …..From now on, my happiest moment won’t come till I die.

[Swtiches to Neutral POV]

He threw his gaze out the window.

It was a fiery twilight, and you couldn’t even see the outline of the moon.

Jude: Tch.

Jude lit a cigarette and took a drag of it to shake everything off.

Jude: But….

Jude: …..I can’t let nothin’ get in the way of her happiness……

Through the white smoke that clouds his eyes, only Kate’s figure can be clearly seen.…..

Jude exhales a few of times and stamps the cigarette into the ashtray.

The time to confront the former Privy Council tomorrow was fast approaching—

[Transitions to the Port - Kate POV]

When I arrived at the port, the scent of the sea seemed even more intense.

During the day, the constant voices of workers and the distant sounds of ferries can be heard, but it’s completely silent in the middle of the night.

Within the silence, only the voices of men reverberated.

Ex-Privy Counsellor: Good evening, Jude Jazza.

Ex-Privy Counsellor: We never thought you’d respond to our demands.

Jude: Well, I gotta ardent love letter sayin’ I’ll get blasted to bits if I don’t respond, so I’m respondin’.

Jude: Such an honor to see yer filthy faces.

There are several men standing in front of Jude—

Meanwhile, I hid in the shadows of the cargo and watched as they glared at each other in a tense atmosphere.

(So, these men are all ex-privy counsellors….)

Their eyes were lifeless.

It’s said they used to serve Her Majesty, but given their current slovenly appearance, it makes it hard to believe.

[Flashback]

Kate: Ellis, I’ve got a favor to ask.

Kate: Would you lie with me?

[Flashback Ends]

Back then, I suggested a single lie to Ellis.

It was to send fake letters to Jude and give him the impression that I am living somewhere far away.

Back then, I needed time to get everything squared away, and to make my way here without Jude’s notice.

Ex-Privy Counsellor: We’ve heard about the incident.

Ex-Privy Counsellor: Jazza, you bastard. If you would have just went along with our plan, then there would’ve been no need for the privy council to threaten you.

The “you” being used can be either a polite version of ‘you,’ or derogatory. Given the context, I’ve opted to translate it as “you bastard”.

Ex-Privy Counsellor: With us receiving more power, we might have been able to serve the Queen again!

Jude: Maybe?

Jude: Yer busy gettin’ yer hopes up based on empty theories ‘n feelin’ double-crossed.

Jude: You guys were always outsiders, werent’cha. And yet yer squawkin’ yer gonna kill me just to vent yer frustrations?

Jude: Yer so small-minded— Well, it can’t be helped, yeah?

Ex-Privy Counsellor: What?!

(He doesn’t show mercy to anyone….)

It's been a while since I last heard Jude's insults, and they're still as brutal as ever.

Jude: That Queenie’s judgements ain’t entirely off, is it. I’ve learned somethin’.

Ex-Privy Counsellor: B-Be quiet!

Enraged by Jude's insults, the former privy counsellor pulls out a knife.

Ex-Privy Counsellor: I’ll start with you, and then I’ll kill everyone at Crown, one by one!

Ex-Privy Counsellor: Aha-Ahaha! If the future is bleak anyway, then might as well drag as many of you as possible to hell with us!

Jude: Whatever, lemme just ask ya one thing.

Jude: You lot know ‘boutta girl named Kate, dont’cha?

(…….Me?)

Surprised at the sudden mention of my name, I watched events unfold intently…..

Ex-Privy Counsellor: Kate? Oh, the woman who escaped with you.

Ex-Privy Counsellor: We searched high and low, hoping to use her as blackmail, but we couldn’t find her anywhere in the country.

Ex-Privy Counsellor: I thought it would be fun slaughtering her in front of you, don’t you think so?

Jude: Really?

Jude: The only reason I’m confrontin’ ya gits so civil-like, is ‘cause of that girl.

Jude: If I leave ya sods be, ya might do somethin’ bad to Kate one day.

Jude: I won’t be able t’sleep at night, ‘less I expose ‘n torture each one of ya face to face.

A Letter left on the Desk of the President’s Office Ellis, First, this ain’t some disturbin’ last will ‘n testament, it’s justa buncha poppycock. I’m goin’ to destroy all them privy counsellors now. Ain’t got the slightest intention o’ bein’ done in by some incompetent monkeys screechin’ ’bout their power bein’ lost. My life’s a shitty one, but I don't wanna throw it away...not anymore. But just in case, I’m leavin’ this to ya.If somethin’ happens to me, watch over Kate in my place. Ya don’t hafta to do anythin’ grand, so long as she lives a normal life, that’s all that matters t’me. 𝒥𝓊𝒹ℯ 𝒥𝒶𝓏𝓏𝒶

[Main Story Master List] [Mad Love Chapter 24 + Premium]

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[munsonsmixtapes]

Hey! Idea for Joel Miller- pre-outbreak neighbor!joel who’s always helping fix stuff around the reader’s house and maybe he’s got the biggest crush on her and maybe he feels a little bit like a perv because he thinks he’s too old to feel this way about someone

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v)

A sizzling sound fills the kitchen as a grilled cheese cooks in the pan on the stove. Once it’s cooked to perfection, you flip it onto a plate, right on time as there’s a knock at your front door. 

You set the plate onto the counter then run to the door, stopping at the mirror by the stairs, making sure that you look okay. You put on a bright smile when you finally open the door and Joel is on the other side. He holds up his tool box with that adorable shy smile and you wordlessly let him inside. 

“Thanks so much for doing this,” you tell him, having no idea that he’d actually do anything for you. Ever since you moved in all of those months ago, he’s developed a crush even though he’d never admit it. 

He sets the toolbox on the counter where he spots the sandwich that’s accompanied by a bag of his favorite chips as well as a can of the beer he likes. He mentioned those chips once and you always seem to have them in your pantry. 

You mentioned that your shower was leaking one time and after fixing it, he made himself your personal handyman. It doesn’t matter what the problem is or the time of day, he’s on your porch in minutes with that damn toolbox. You’ve tried to offer him money for his services, but he always declines, perfectly happy to share a meal with you instead. 

He can’t help but feel weird, though, crushing on you like this. It almost feels predatory even though you’re only ten years apart. Your lives are just so different. He’s got a kid and you’re just wanting to live your life. Things would just get complicated if he admitted how he felt. 

He feels the tension between the two of you, that you seem to feel the same way, but he’s just making excuses because he’s afraid of putting himself out there. It’s been well over a decade since he really got to know someone in that way and he guesses that he just feels out of practice considering his age.

“So what’s the problem?” He asks. “Sink leaking again?” 

“Yep,” you nod. “I don’t know what’s happening. You just fixed it.” 

“Well, let me take a look.” He squats down as you chop up some lettuce for a salad so he at least has some sort of vegetable today. He turns and lies on his back, moving underneath the pipes so he can see what’s really going on. You’re so distracted by his shirt riding up that you end up cutting one of your fingers. 

“Shit,” is all Joel hears and he’s up, rushing over to you to see that your finger is bleeding. He takes hold of your hand and rushes you into your guest bathroom where he knows the sink is fine. 

It’s a tiny bathroom, so small that you’re practically chest to chest and Joel has to try really hard to focus on the task at hand. He turns on the faucet and pushes your hand under the water, the two of you watching the blood trickle into the sink. You lift your head to look at him but he won’t make eye contact. You think it’s cute that you make him nervous. 

He then takes some soap and rubs it along your finger gently, causing you to wince at the light sting. He’s still avoiding your gaze and all you want is for him to just look at you for a second. You need to see that pretty brown. 

“Sorry,” he says softly. “Where are your bandaids?” 

“Cabinet,” you nod your head towards the mirror and he uses one hand to open the cabinet while the other still holds onto you. Something about holding his hand feels right. It’s soft but rough from how often he works with them and you can’t help but imagine what they would feel like roaming along your naked body. 

“You don’t have to do this,” you tell him and he just scoffs. 

“It’s my job to take care of you.” He’s looking at you now, his eyes boring into yours. “And you need to be more careful.” He’s so serious and sometimes you wish there was something you could do to get him to relax. 

“God, you’re so protective,” you roll your eyes with a laugh. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a crush on me.” That’s when it occurs to you and everything clicks into place. You both widen your eyes and he pulls away as soon as the bandaid is on your finger. 

“Oh my god, you do have a crush on me.” His cheeks are a bright shade of pink and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him behave this way. You step closer so that your body is flush to his, your hands resting on his cheek as you do so. 

“Then I guess I should tell you that I have a crush on you too.” You lean in, your lips slowly slotting between his in a gentle kiss. He’s quick to respond, his hands grabbing onto your waist roughly as he kisses you hungrily. He’s waited months for this and now he’s going to take advantage of it. 

Joel presses you up against the sink as his tongue slides into your mouth. It’s messy because he’s out of practice but that doesn’t stop you from moaning as your tongues make eye contact. His hand slides up your shirt and you pull away to take it off. You then unbutton his shirt which quickly falls to the floor leaving him in the white t-shirt he was wearing underneath. 

You grab hold of his hand and lead him out of the bathroom, clothing coming off between shared kisses before he’s picking you up and carrying you up the stairs. It’s all happening so fast but that’s how you like it. You don’t care that you’re rushing into it because you’ve been thinking about this exact thing for months. 

Joel lays you down on the bed, kissing his way down to your chest. He’s so good at this but you’re sure that’s because of all the women he’s surely taken to bed in his life. He’s older, he’s got more experience. 

“Condoms are in the drawer,” you point to the bedside table behind you and he hurries to grab one. He throws it onto the bed as his t-shirt and underwear come off so he’s completely naked hovering over you. 

“You’re so hot,” you tell him and he can’t help but smile. He thought he was letting himself go so he loves that you think of him as attractive when he looks like this. 

“Am I?” He asks as he lies on top of you and you push him so he’s lying on the mattress.

“Let me show you how much.” You straddle his waist as your bra comes off and he can’t help stare. He never thought this would happen and now that it is, he just feels like he’s dreaming. It’s already so perfect that he doesn’t need anything else. Just this and that’s it. He also wouldn’t mind living your lives together but maybe that’s asking too much. 

“Okay,” he breathes, watching you roll the condom on him before sinking down onto him. Your pace is slow at first, but then you quickly pick it up, bouncing on his cock as the most pornographic moans pour from your mouths. 

You quickly get into a good rhythm and decide that you fit perfectly together. His hands fit perfectly over your breasts as he plays with your nipples as your hands slide into his hair, making a mess of it. It’s everything either of you could have ever asked for and more. 

“Faster,” he commands and you obey, moving the fastest you possibly can as you lean forward, pressing your lips to his. His hands move down to your ass, giving it a squeeze, causing you to gasp into his mouth. He lets out a chuckle in response as he bucks his hips against yours, matching your pace. “That’s it,” he says. “Just like that, baby. Just like that.” 

You’re moving even faster and he’s able to match your pace perfectly, unable to keep his eyes off of you. You look so hot on top of him and now he wants to know how many rounds you can go for. He’s got nothing but time and wants to see just how long you can go, how many surfaces you’d let him fuck you on.

Joel doesn’t know why he’s been so nervous to get to this point. It’s been shockingly easy, as if the two of you were meant to be. And at this point, he doesn’t think he can do this with someone else-doesn’t want to do this with someone else. You’re it for him.

“Fuck, baby, I think I’m gonna-” He can’t even finish his sentence before he reaches his orgasm, the most filthy moans fall from his lips. You look down at him, taking in the scene below you. His hair is a mess and his mouth is in a wide “O” shape as he gets his relief. 

As he comes down, both of you breathless, you dispose of the condom then pull the blanket over your bodies. You then press a kiss to his chest before leaning your head on it. Joel’s arm wraps around your waist, his fingers dancing across your skin. 

“Shit, what time is it?” He asks, standing up from the bed as he looks around for his underwear. He puts them on as you throw on one of your oversized t-shirts before following him into the hallway where he finds his jeans. “Sarah’s gonna be home any minute and I forgot I promised we’d watch a movie tonight. I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you wave him off as you follow him down the stairs where he puts on his socks and shows. “You can just come back when she goes to bed. I mean, if you want to.” 

“Oh, I want to,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips before he heads out the door, hurrying across the lawn as he sees his daughter going through the front door of his own house. 

“Hey,” she greets, giving him a knowing look as she sees where he’s come from. She’s so amused by the fact that his shirt isn’t buttoned correctly that she doesn’t even bother to mention it. “Were you over at y/n’s again?” 

“Yeah,” he replies, trying really hard to not be so obvious but he can’t help but smile. “Her pipes were leaking again. Now c’mon, wash up. Tommy’s bringing pizza.” 

They enter the kitchen as Tommy comes through the back door with the pizza that he sets in the center of the table where the three of them sit. As they eat, Joel’s still fighting the smile on his face which causes Tommy and Sarah to share a knowing look. They’re just surprised it didn’t happen sooner. 

“You can go back over there after dinner, dad. I think I’m plenty old enough to get myself to bed,” Sarah tells Joel who seems confused. 

“C’mon, Joel,” Tommy speaks up. “We all know you have a thing for each other so you don’t have to hide it anymore. It looks like you’re done anyway, so go on ahead.”

“Yeah, we can watch the movie some other night. Tommy and I are fine.” Without another word, Joel is out of his chair, hurrying out the back door that he doesn’t even bother closing on his way back over to you. Tommy and Sarah just roll their eyes and continue eating their pizza, but they’re actually really happy for him, thinking that it was about time.

[the-exiled-comic]

have u ever done a post about crowstar and her thought process behind everything? srry if i missed it and u already did one (u dont have to answer this if so!) but i love her as someone who only feels remorse once it starts effecting her child and the moment to make it right is long past, but then starclan didnt give her the grace that they gave autumnstar and shes got that curse yo rlly interesting stubborn til death character i need in her brain

crowbar post... for me? :pleading: i might have talked about her in the past but i have no idea where i say things

despite me reminding ppl shes been deserving this lately she is one of my fave characters to write. "its too late to make it right" is pretty key to her character ya, i'll add more under the cut

crowstar has a lot of sympathetic qualities to me but like she does a lot of wrong things and knows that they are wrong. so i dont consider her a tragic villain in the same sense that firespots is, bc he's just extremely off the deep end. he's in a bunch of shit he truly did not start aggravating until like poking at treeclan and murdering cloverfall. in like a technical sense you can say it started with the rebellion bc i think he jumped the gun and went in under prepared but its different to me. but anyway this isnt about boy... we are going to talk about girl...

if we start from the very beginning, she's like a jealous mean girl kid. she has some unresolved issues with her family, her sister nightstride is older than her and actually knows her dad but crow doesn't know her own. so she projects onto autumnstar as a father figure and doesn't really like that firespots doesn't like his dad. she would be a good daughter, it would be so easy for her to be a good daughter! why is firepaw such a bad son!?

she's then groomed into being a kind of protege for autumnstar, she loves the attention but this sort of isolates her from her peers at a young age. she's the bratty teacher's pet that no one really gets along with crow goes on to date fallensnow and this is weird for her, affection for someone who isn't her family? for the first time? and then she gets burned by the fact he's avoidant and probably doesn't even like women (i could go on a tangent about fallensnows sexuality but this is not the post for it LMAO) so he leaves and shes like geeze!! that the only thing i ever loved! autumnstar explodes and shes leader now, her ex tries to kill her and then she has a little baby boy... theres also no more autumnstar around to be like "yeeeup start training that boy for war" so she just tries to raise him with a lot of love

and you see now how thats been backfiring as fallenscar is a super sheltered adult who has little grasp on reality. she lied to him about what exactly went down with the rebellion. killed a child for "attacking" him. told him about her curse which in turn made him have questionable faith in starclan (this hasnt really come into play just yet but it will soon, trust). made him deputy and then died before he could ever truly prepare himself for the world. good intentions, a lot of love... but that's just not really enough

and the curse. crowstar just fixated on the fact its not fair, why didnt this happen to autumnstar? is starclan misogynistic? more at 11 if this solved any problems... debatable. starclan stuff will get answered later in the story

crowstar to me is like. pitiable. she made too many enemies, didn't grow up in a place that fostered change, and then took over and didn't try to amend that until it was way too late. and the enemies.

now.. crowstar likes male attention. she is a straight woman i am sorry ;^; to me she is one of those people who cant make friends with anyone she sees as competition for this. she started off negatively with firespots and whisperleaf out of her love for autumnstar and fallensnow respectively. and she probably did not like that the men in her age group liked other girls. she did not like that her sister had all the amiable relationships. she's very jealous by nature and it hurt so much of her friendships

i like her and enjoy writing her but goddamn she is a plethora of unlikeable traits- some of which are things only I know as her creator- but it still surprised me that a lot of people like her. im glad you all do!

i know i said i dont view her as tragic but like the last few days of her life are a little tragic in the sense she IS realising just how badly she fucked up and theres not a lot of things she can do to fix it. she knows her baby boy is going to suffer greatly for this and all she can do is say sorry and tell him to be strong, shes out of options because she took too long. learning that yeah actually being a tyrant ruined her life

my fave way to write villains... their final moments are of anguish about their life choices :) except autumnstar hes just having a good time i dont think hes self reflected literally ever in his life. he thinks hes playing a video game

[womenhoops]

Sweet sixteen

Paige wasn’t just stressed—no, she was freaking out. Her mind was spinning, racing a mile a minute.

She’d known Azzi’s Sweet Sixteen invite was coming, but that didn’t stop her brain from short-circuiting. A whole week together? After months of only FaceTime and texts? Sure, they’d spent last summer glued at the hip—Azzi crashing Paige’s family cruise, helping at her basketball clinic, stealing her hoodies like they were hers—but what if things were different now? What if Azzi had new friends, new interests, and Paige just… didn’t fit anymore?

“Paige? Are you even listening to me right now?” Azzi’s voice was soft, tinged with disappointment.

But Paige was too busy buzzing with the mix of anxiety and excitement, already imagining the trip. A whole week at Azzi’s house? Her early winter break meant she could stay even longer—maybe surprise her. But what if Azzi hated the surprise? What if—

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” Azzi’s words snapped her back to reality. “I get it. You’re busy. I’m sure you’ve got other plans, even though I’m asking, like, two months early. It’s fine. Just… forget it.”

Paige finally processed the hurt in her friend’s voice. “Azzi, what? Of course I’m coming! Why wouldn’t I?”

Azzi huffed. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you literally did not reply when I ask?”

“I would not miss it for the world. I mean it, Az” Paige said looking straight at the camera, her lips curling into her soft smile, the one Azzi had called her goofy smile when in reality, Paige had save it for her. Her azzi. 

Azzi exhaled, tension melting. “Okay. Good. Because… it’s gonna be a thing. Like, my parents are planning something big—all my HS friends, some USA teammates… Sam’s coming.”

“Wait, wait.” Paige’s eyes widened. “Your parents are throwing an actual party? Your dad? Mr. ‘No-Phone-After-9’ is cool with a house full of teenagers?”

Azzi laughed. “Sweet sixteen, baby. But no drinking, and all the bedroom doors stay locked—my dad literally said he didn’t want ‘any babies popping out nine months later. Last night he made me swear—on Stewie’s life—that no one would ‘get handsy’ near the chocolate fountain.”

“Ew.” Paige grimaced. “Just… ew.”

Her mind kicked into overdrive. So there’d be boys, too. Fine. Whatever. Paige had no issue with boys—she found them mostly mid—but she had to ask.

“Az…” She locked onto Azzi’s eyes through the screen, voice dropping. “Is he gonna be there?”

A beat. Azzi’s breath hitched, even through the distance.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “My parents invited the whole grade, I had not have the courage to tell them about u know the situation.”

“Oh. Cool.” Paige’s voice cracked.

And that was the problem—because she hated him.

Hated him so much she could barely say his name, and for a yapper like Paige, that said everything. She hated how he’d had the nerve to ask Azzi out in the first place. Hated how he’d tried to kiss her after she’d said no. Hated how, weeks later, he’d somehow gotten his stupid lips on her Azzi—only to drop her for some cheerleader.

Her Azzi. A five-star recruit. Steph curry protégée. The best damn high school player in the country. And he’d tossed her aside like she was nothing.

So yeah. Paige didn’t just hate him—she wanted to punt him into the sun.

“Earth to P?” Azzi’s voice cut through the storm in her head. “You’re acting so weird today. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Paige blinked, the mental tirade screeching to a halt.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine.” She forced a shrug. “Just… thinking.”

Azzi tilted her head, unconvinced. “Wanna tell me what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”

Paige chewed her lip raw. Tell her? Admit that the thought of him at the party made her want to hijack Azzi’s dad’s pickup and drive straight to D.C. to commit a felony? Or that she saw red when she imagined Azzi kissing him—his stupid hands on her waist, his mouth on hers after she’d said no the first time— Obviously, it was just because he was a jackass, right? Azzi was too bright, too everything, to be reduced to some mediocre football player’s ego boost.

“Just… nervous about the trip,” she lied, picking at a loose thread on her hoodie. “You know how I get with airports. Legit no one to yap with. It’s so boring.”

Azzi’s eyes narrowed—though Paige’s pouting was objectively cute, all scrunched nose and exaggerated frown. “Uh-huh.” A beat. “This isn’t about Jace, is it?”

Jace. The name hit like a sucker punch. Paige’s fingers twitched. She should’ve known Azzi would see right through her.

“No,” she said, too fast. “Why would it be?”

Azzi sighed, twisting the friendship bracelet Paige had made her last summer around her wrist. “P. You literally growl when someone mentions him. It’s kinda iconic, honestly.”

Paige’s face burned. Iconic? More like pathetic. She couldn’t even fake indifference.

“I just don’t get why he’s invited,” she muttered. “After what he did—”

“It’s one night.” Azzi’s voice softened, but her knuckles whitened around her phone. “And it’s not like I’m into him anymore. He’s just… there. Like bad Wi-Fi.”

Paige snorted, but her chest stayed tight. Because she remembered—the way Azzi had sobbed into their daily phone call last semester, hiccuping “I thought he liked me” between gasps on the phone. How she’d taken a week to confess they’d kissed, how she’d whispered “It wasn’t even good, he bit my bottom lip” like it was a shameful secret. Azzi does not know that Paige could not sleep that night, hunted by the unsettling feeling that burned in her chest. 

“Fine,” Paige forced a grin. “But if he ‘accidentally’ falls into the pool, that’s not my fault.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but her smile was fond. “P, I don’t even have a pool. Just promise you won’t start a fight. My dad’ll actually murder you.”

Too late. Paige had already started a fight—in her head, at least. A whole UFC highlight reel where Jace got drop-kicked into oblivion.

“No promises,” she winked.

Azzi groaned. “God, you’re impossible.” But the way she said it—low, almost fond—sent Paige’s pulse skittering.

Then Azzi’s mom shouted something about “napkin origami”, and the moment shattered. “Gotta go,” Azzi said, pulling a face. “Dad’s making me ‘practice table settings’ like some psychotic rich-people ritual. Text me when you buy your flight, okay?. I am so excited to see you, P”

“Bye, Az’’. The screen went black.

Paige flopped onto her bed, arms splayed. The party would be fine. She’d be cool. She’d not stab Jace with a fondue fork.

…Probably.

—————————//

NEXT DAY 

Paige dragged through her morning, exhaustion clinging to her like static. She’d spent the night tangled in thoughts—Azzi’s laugh, Azzi’s dress, the stupidly perfect gift she still hadn’t found. And she needed the perfect gift. Because this was Azzi.

So, like any rational person facing a crisis, she decided to borrow a move from her best friend’s playbook: make a list. And what better time to brainstorm than during Lit class? Mr. Dunne’s droning lecture on The Great Gatsby was basically white noise anyway.

She flipped to a fresh page in her notebook and scribbled:

AZZI’S FAVORITE THINGS (aka How To Not Screw This Up)

Unicorns (the sparklier, the better—"They’re majestic, P, stop laughing!")

Frozen (specifically Olaf, specifically his "Some people are worth melting for" line, which Azzi quoted with alarming sincerity)

Ice cream (quantities that violated the laws of physics)

Terrible puns ("What do you call a fake noodle? An impasta!"—Azzi’s told her barelly cointanning her own laughter)

That nose scrunch (the one that made Paige’s stomach do backflips)

Her dimples (which should’ve been illegal, honestly)

Basketball (duh)

Paige tapped her pen hard enough to dent the paper. None of this screamed Sweet Sixteen material. Maybe if she Frankensteined them together? …Yeah, no. That was a one-way ticket to "I’m Revoking Your Best Friend Card" Land.

Across the room, someone coughed. Paige glanced up just in time to catch:

Mr. Dunne’s "I will murder you with iambic pentameter" glare.

Amaya, her basketball teammate, mouthing "Paige, WHAT are you doing right now?!" from two rows over, eyes darting between Paige’s notebook and the teacher.

Paige mimed zipping her lips. Amaya responded with a hand signal that definitely meant "You’re doomed." And for now, she was. 

—— /// ———— 

That evening, Paige stabbed at her mashed potatoes like they’d personally offended her. Her brain was still a chaotic Pinterest board of half-baked gift ideas—Could she freeze-dry Olaf and call it art?—when her dad cleared his throat.

"P, Azzi’s parents texted me today about her birthday," he said, scrolling through his phone with the intensity of a man decoding nuclear launch codes. "We need to book your flight before prices skyrocket."

"Sure, Dad." She twirled her fork, conjuring the mental image of Azzi’s party: twinkle lights, a chocolate fountain (dangerous) "Azzi said her parents are going all out. There’s even gonna be, like, a professional chocolate fountain. The kind that requires liability waivers."

Her dad didn’t look up. "That’s… concerning."

"It’s Azzi, she deserves it ,” Paige said, as if that explained everything. (It did)

"So what’s your gift plan?"

Paige’s eye twitched. "Working on it."

"Translation: She’s panicking," her younger brother, Drew, called from the living room.

"I’m strategizing," she lied, flicking a pea at him. It missed spectacularly, bouncing off to the sofa instead. 

“How lost we talking, P?” Drew pressed, finally pausing his game. “Like, ‘forgot to buy wrapping paper’ lost, or ‘bought her a cactus because it looked lonely’ lost?”

“Not lost at all,” she snapped. “Me and Amaya are going shopping tomorrow, actually.”

Her dad glanced up from his phone. “We still have more than a month ‘til the party, Paige. No need to actually worry.”

“I just want to be prepared, Dad.”

But the truth squirmed in her chest like an over-caffeinated worm. She needed this gift to be perfect. This was Azzi. Her best friend since USA Basketball. To be fair, they had met not that long ago, but there is no one single part of paige's life that is not consumed by Azzi. The human who’d once stayed up until 2 a.m. on the phone with her helping her memorize the entire Hamilton soundtrack before a history test. Azzi deserved more than some last-minute junk from the mall.

And then it hit her—the unsettling memory of Jace’s cat plushy disaster. Azzi, a devout dog person, had stared at that sad, bewhiskered lump like it had personally betrayed her. (“It’s the principle, P,” she’d hissed later. “He’s known me since kindergarten. How do you mix up cats and dogs? He knows Stewie”)

Paige grabbed her notebook and scrawled:

Stewie (DOG PERSON. NOT CATS. EVER.)

Drew craned his neck. “Wow. You made a list? This is worse than I thought, P.”

“Shut up.” She slammed the notebook shut. “It’s called being thoughtful.”

“It’s called panic-spiraling.” Paige turned around and locked her bedroom door behind her. Collapsing onto her bed, she grabbed her phone and tapped Azzi’s contact before she could second-guess herself.

The FaceTime call connected after two rings, Azzi’s face filling the screen—cheeks flushed, hair piled in a messy bun, the unmistakable sound of her parents arguing in the background.

“Ugh, save me,” Azzi muttered, rolling her eyes toward the chaos off-camera. “My dad’s micromanaging the napkin colors for the party, and my mom just threatened to uninvite, like, half the family.”

Paige snorted. “So, same as always?”

“Worse.” Azzi leaned in, lowering her voice. “They’re fully driving me crazy. If I hear ‘But what will people think?’ one more time…” She mimed strangling herself, then abruptly turned the camera downward, showing off a sliver of bare skin between her cropped tank top and high-waisted jeans. “Oh, and this? My dad lost it when he saw my outfit. Said I ‘look like I’m going to a club.’”

Paige’s throat went dry. And to be fair, her mind was racing with so many thoughts, she could not think and just blurted “I mean… you do.”

Azzi’s grin was all mischief. “Good.” She adjusted the camera, tilting her head. “You like it?”

“I—uh.” Paige’s fingers fumbled with her phone. “It’s just… a lot of midriff.” Paige sad fiddling with her hoodie strings…

“You’re staring.”

“Am not!” Paige dragged her gaze back up—mistake. Azzi’s knowing smirk was worse.

A muffled shout came through Azzi’s phone. “AZZI FUDD! Change that top right now!”

Azzi groaned dramatically, flopping back onto her bed with enough force to make the camera shake. "See what I deal with?" When she righted herself, she bit her lip in that way that always made Paige's stomach flip. "Wish you were here," she added softly, so quiet Paige almost missed it.

Paige's pulse spiked, her fingers tightening around her phone. "It's, um. It's cute. The outfit, I mean." She swallowed hard, pushing through the sudden thickness in her throat. "And the fact that you miss me too." Smooth. Real smooth.

A beat of silence. Then Azzi's lips quirked up at one corner, but she was the first to look away, clearing her throat as she played with the hem of her top. "Anyway. My dad's being insane. He also vetoed the ripped jeans."

Paige latched onto the distraction like a lifeline. "What's left? A turtleneck and a floor-length skirt?"

"Don't give him ideas," Azzi groaned, but her smile was back—easier now, more comfortable. Then, quieter, her eyes flicking up to meet Paige's through the screen: "Hey. You'd tell me if I looked stupid, right?"

The question hung between them, suddenly more serious than it should have been. Paige's chest did that weird squeezing thing again, the one that had become frustratingly familiar lately. "You never look stupid," she said, the words tumbling out before she could stop them, too raw and too honest.

Azzi's breath caught—just slightly, just enough for Paige to notice—and for a suspended moment, neither of them moved. Then Azzi's bedroom door banged open off-camera, and the spell shattered.

"AZZI! We're leaving in twenty—oh." Azzi's mom appeared in frame, her expression shifting from exasperation to something more calculating as she took in the FaceTime call. "Hey, Paige. How you doing, sweetie?”

"Hi, Katie,” Paige squeaked, suddenly hyper-aware of how flushed her face must look. 

Azzi groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Mom, privacy?"

“5 minutes, we got to get Jose from his friends house so it does not get to late,” her mom repeated, but not before shooting Paige a look that said they'd be talking about this later. The door clicked shut behind her.

Azzi exhaled, shoulders slumping as she turned back to the screen. "Sorry about that," she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck.

Paige swallowed, her heart still doing somersaults. "It's okay," she said, voice softer than she meant it to be.

Azzi hesitated, then leaned closer, and sighed. "Ugh, I gotta change."

Paige nodded, even though her stomach dropped a little. "Yeah, of course. Text me before you go to bed”

Azzi’s smile was small but warm. "Obviously." She paused, then added, quieter, "And Paige? Thanks. For… you know."

Paige didn’t know, not really—but the way Azzi was looking at her made her feel like she wanted to know, like the answer was something just out of reach. "Anytime," she whispered.

The call ended, leaving Paige staring at her darkened screen, her chest tight and her thoughts spinning. She flopped back onto her pillows, pressing her hands to her face. What is wrong with me? But as she closed her eyes, all she could see was Azzi—her laugh, her stupidly perfect smile, the way her voice softened when she said Paige’s name.

And with that, Paige finally drifted off to sleep, the weird feeling in her chest lingering like a promise.

—————— // 

The weeks before her trip to visit Azzi, Paige had scoured every store in Hopkins, Minnesota, searching for the perfect gift. She’d found an adorable Olaf plushie—but that was more of a silly little just-because thing, not the real present she wanted to give. By Thursday, exactly three days before her flight, she was ready to give up.

Then, after practice, Drew cornered her in the parking lot with his young rizz, as he liked to call it. 

"Drive me to that new ice cream place across town? Please, Paigey ” he asked, already aiming for her car keys.

Paige groaned, tossing her gym bag into the backseat. "Drew, I have so much to do. Laundry, packing—"

"And yet," he said, sliding into the passenger seat with a grin, "here you are. Because you secretly love me."

"Debatable," she muttered, but she started the car anyway.

The drive was short, filled with Drew’s usual rambling—practice drama, his latest kitchen disaster, some ridiculous bet he’d made with a teammate. Paige only half-listened, her mind stuck on Azzi. On finally seeing her in person after months of late-night FaceTime calls and texts that left her chest weirdly tight. The ice cream shop was cozy, all vintage decor and handwritten chalkboard flavors. Drew beelined for the counter, but Paige lingered near the back, where a small shelf of antiques sat tucked between the freezers.

And then she saw it.

A vintage Polaroid camera, its white frame slightly yellowed with age, and beside it—a small, leather-bound photo album, its pages empty, waiting to be filled.

Her breath hitched. Azzi loved photos. She was always the one stopping mid-conversation to snap a picture, always the one insisting on group selfies, her phone full of half-blurry, laughing candids. And this—this was perfect.

"Paigey? U getting anything or just staring at the wall?" Drew called, already holding two cones.

She didn’t answer, already reaching for the camera, heart pounding. This was it.

Drew raised an eyebrow, already reaching for the vintage camera and the leather-bound photo album she’d been eyeing. "For Azzi?"

Paige’s cheeks flushed with warmth. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

Drew nodded eagerly, handing her an ice cream cone—mint chocolate chip, her favorite. “I think she’ll love it, Paigey. I just wish I could go to her party too. I miss her.”

“I know you do, Drewski... But this time, it’s just for teenagers.” She gave him a gentle smile. “I can ask when she’s planning to visit us next. How does that sound?”

His face lit up. “That sounds perfect, Paigey! And can you also tell her I miss her this much?” He stretched his arms as wide as they could go.

Paige laughed softly. “Of course I will.”

As she paid for the camera and the album, carefully tucking them into her bag, Paige couldn’t stop smiling. Three more days. And then she’d see Azzi—really see her, after months of blurry FaceTime calls and texts that never quite captured the way her laugh sounded in person. The thought sent a familiar flutter through her chest, warm and dizzying.

But first, she had to make this gift perfect. She carefully selected all her favorite picture moments with Azzi (PB & Jelly), and some of her favorite Azzi photos with drew, then some of her with Stewie (and some solo stewie pics as well), then some of her magic shooting form, because why not? She then, drove as fast as humanly possible to a CVS and printed over 100 phots. I mean, could you even blame her? She got some cute frozen stickers, some cute dogs stickers, some nice pink ribbons, some glue and some pink glitter and some colorful markers because Paige had legit just two pencil and a blue pen in her pencil case. 

She had this night to make this the perfect gift. 

Paige spread the photos across her bedroom floor like a detective piecing together a case. Every snapshot was a clue to something she already knew— Azzi was her person. There were the silly ones: Azzi mid-laugh, ice cream smeared on her nose. The soft ones: Azzi asleep with Drew on the couch, sunlight catching the gold in her curls. The stolen moments: Azzi biting her lip while studying, Azzi flipping off Paige after a dumb joke, Azzi dressing up Stewie in a unicorn suit while on FaceTime, Azzi looking at her like she was the only person in the room.

"Okay. No pressure," she muttered, grabbing a glue stick. "Just the most important gift of your life." In the back of her mind, she wondered if that would be considered  “normal best friend behavior."

She worked through the night, fingers sticky with glue, glitter clinging to her sleeves. A disaster zone of glitter, markers, and half-peeled stickers. Every time she glued down a photo, she second-guessed it. Would Azzi think this was too much? Was it weird that she had this many pictures of her? Should she have just gotten her a hoodie like a normal person? Or a pair of cool sneakers? 

Her handwriting wavered between neatly sentimental and frantic chicken scratch, but she didn’t stop. She labeled each photo, tucked in concert tickets, doodled stars in the margins. By 3 AM, her back ached, her eyes burned, and the scrapbook was—

"A mess," she groaned, flopping onto her bed. The pages were lumpy from too much glue, a few stickers were crooked, and she’d accidentally smeared pink glitter over Azzi’s face in one picture.

But it was them. Messy, over-the-top, full. Just like how Azzi made her feel. Paige hugged the album to her chest, grinning.

————// 

12 hours.

Twelve hours until she’d finally see Azzi again, and Paige was freaking out. Sure, the past few days had been spent:

Reorganizing the entire scrapbook twice (was the "Remember This?" caption too cheesy? Should she have written more?).

Practicing her casual gift-handing-over voice ("Oh, this? Just a dumb thing I threw together—" No. "So I made you something—" Too intense. "Here." Perfect. Short. Chill.).

Waking up at 5 AM in a cold sweat, convinced the scrapbook needed more dog stickers (news flash: it didn’t).

But now? Now she had to pack. And not just throw things in a bag pack—strategic pack. Because this wasn’t just any trip. This was Azzi.

She stared at her open suitcase like it had personally betrayed her. Basketball gear? Check. (Obviously. They always played one-on-one, and Paige may have bought new shorts just for this.) Bathing suit? Check. (And no, she wasn’t overthinking the fact that Azzi had mentioned the lake. She wasn’t thinking about Azzi in her bikini, or how the sun would catch the water droplets on her shoulders, or—NOPE. Not thinking about it.) 

But party clothes?

Disaster.

She held up the only option she could think of - the "Cool Casual" Look – Ripped jeans, fitted tee, leather jacket. ("I definitely don’t care what you think of me.")

"Why is this so hard?" she groaned, flopping onto her bed. Her phone buzzed.

Mom: You alive? Or did you forget you’re leaving tomorrow?

Paige exhaled in relief. Saved.

She hit call.

"Okay, so," Paige said, pacing, “how do I go for the ‘effortlessly cool’ thing? or  should I try the ‘I put in actual effort but don’t want you to notice’ thing?"

Her mom laughed. "Honey, just wear what makes you feel good."

"But what if she doesn’t like it?" The words slipped out before she could stop them.

A pause. Then, knowingly: "Ah. Azzi.”

Paige froze. "I—what? No. I mean them. The group. The vibes."

"Mhm." "So, who’s going to be at this party again? Any boys I should know about?"

Paige nearly choked on her own spit. "What? No. I mean—I don’t know. Maybe? But I don’t care."  

"Paige," her mom said, voice dripping with I’m a Cool Mom energy, "I know you’re at that age where you’re starting to, you know… explore things with boys. And that’s fine! Just remember—"

"Mom. Oh my God." Paige’s face burned. 

"—you’re staying at the Fudds’ house, and you’re still seventeen, so—"

"I’m not ‘exploring things’ with anyone!" Paige groaned, flopping onto her bed. "Especially not boys."

A pause. "Well, just be safe. Remember it is perfectly okay to say no and also, if u do something, wear a condom.”

Paige made a noise somewhere between a dying whale and a deflating whoopee cushion. "MOM. I SWEAR TO GOD—"

"Paige Maddison, I'm just saying—"

"That you're giving me the straight sex talk when I—" Paige's mouth snapped shut so fast her teeth clicked. The unspoken words hung in the air like a glitter bomb waiting to explode: when I might like girls.

Her mom, completely missing the nuclear subtext, plowed ahead: "When you what? Honey, I was your age once too. Those summer parties get wild, and—"

"NOBODY IS HAVING SEX, LEAST OF ALL ME!" Paige shrieked, launching a pillow at her bedroom door. "Can we please talk about literally anything else? The weather? Your weird toenail fungus? The inevitable heat death of the universe?"

Another pause. Then, with devastating mom intuition: "Paige... is there someone special you're not telling me about?"

The question hit like a bucket of ice water. Paige's throat closed up. Images flashed through her mind—Azzi's laugh lines, the way she tucked her hair behind her ears, that time she'd fallen asleep on Paige's shoulder during movie night—

"No," she squeaked. Then, too loud: "NO. Just. Party. Friends. Normal friend things."

"Mhmm." The skepticism could power a small city. "Well, your father was definitely NOT my first so—"

"OKAY BYE LOVE YOU!" Paige stabbed the end call button so hard her phone case cracked. She chucked it across the room where it landed safely in her laundry hamper (because of course even in her panic, her basketball reflexes saved her from an expensive mistake).

Silence. Blessed, beautiful silence.

Paige collapsed face-first into her mattress, screaming into her comforter until her lungs burned. This was worse than that time she'd accidentally texted Azzi "you're my favorite person" instead of "you're my favorite pain in the ass”. Or even that time her mom found her Pinterest board full of... aesthetic female couple photos (still claimed it was "for art reference")

She rolled over, staring blankly at the half-packed suitcase.  I guess the ripped jeans, fitted tee, leather jacket would have to do it. 

Her phone buzzed from the hamper. Against her better judgment, Paige crawled across the floor to retrieve it.

Azzi: [photo of her holding up two nearly identical shades of nail polish] which one says "I survived summer program hell" better???

Paige's traitorous heart skipped. The left one. Definitely the left one. She'd seen that shade on Azzi before—it brought out the gold flecks in her eyes when she—

"FUCK," she said louder, thunking her forehead against the hardwood floor.

She was so monumentally screwed.

———————— //

The plane ride passed in a blink—mostly because Paige had spent the entire night freaking out and consequently slept through it like a dead person. She woke with a start as the wheels touched down, her neck stiff from where she'd been slumped against the window, a thin line of drool on her cheek that she frantically wiped away. Airport lights blurred past as the plane taxied. Paige's fingers tapped an erratic rhythm against her carry-on where the scrapbook was safely tucked away. Three months. Three weeks. Three days. Not that she was counting. (She'd marked it on her calendar in increasingly elaborate doodles.)

Then—there she was.

Azzi stood near baggage claim, bouncing on her toes with Stewie squirming in her arms. Her hair was longer, swept over one shoulder in loose waves that caught the fluorescent lights just right. She wore that stupid cropped hoodie Paige had stolen approximately fourteen times last year.

Paige's feet moved before her brain caught up.

She barely registered dropping her bags before she was crashing into Azzi, arms wrapping around both her and an indignant Stewie with enough force to knock them back a step. The dog yipped, but Paige didn't care—couldn't care—because Azzi smelled like her vanilla shampoo and the airport's stale air and home, and—

"Ow, P, you're crushing my ribs," Azzi laughed, but her arms tightened around Paige's shoulders anyway.

Paige buried her face in Azzi's hoodie to hide the way her eyes burned. "Shut up. You're crushing the dog."

Stewie licked her ear in revenge.

“P, she is MY Dog" the younger girl replied. 

Behind them, Azzi's dad cleared his throat. "Should we leave you two alone, or...?"

Paige jerked back like she'd been shocked, suddenly hyper-aware of how long they'd been clinging to each other in the middle of the airport. Her hands fluttered uselessly before shoving into her pockets. She gave them both a quick hug. 

Azzi just rolled her eyes, shifting Stewie to one arm so she could punch Paige's shoulder. "Took you long enough to get here."

"Blame the airline," Paige muttered, but her traitorous voice came out weirdly thick. (Three months. Three weeks. Three days. And now Azzi was right there, real and solid and grinning at her like—)

"Come on," Azzi said, grabbing Paige's wrist and tugging her toward the exit. "Mom made your favorite Mac and cheese and Jose and Jon are already saying your the favorite"

Paige let herself be pulled along, the warmth of Azzi's fingers against her pulse point threatening to short-circuit her brain entirely. The scrapbook in her bag suddenly weighed a thousand pounds.

—— // 

The car ride should have been easy.

It was easy—right up until it wasn’t.

Paige had spent the first ten minutes crammed in the backseat with Azzi, their knees knocking together every time Mr. Fudd took a turn too fast. Stewie had claimed Paige’s lap as her throne, which was fine, because it gave her an excuse to focus on something other than the way Azzi’s shoulder kept brushing hers.

Katie Fudd twisted around from the passenger seat, grinning. "Paige, honey, I made those oatmeal cookies you love. There’s a whole plate waiting at home."

Paige’s stomach growled on cue. "You’re my favorite, Mrs. F."

"I better be," Katie laughed, before launching into a story about how Azzi had nearly burned the kitchen down trying to make pancakes last week. Azzi squawked in protest, shoving at Paige’s arm like can you believe this betrayal?

And it was fine. It was normal.

Until Mr. Fudd—bless his chaotic soul—decided to drop the bomb.

"So, Paige," he said, eyes flicking to her in the rearview mirror. "Heard there’s gonna be a decent crowd at this thing tomorrow. Anyone you’re especially excited to see?"

A beat of silence.

Then, with a smirk: "Any boys specifically?"

The moment he mentioned boys, the atmosphere in the car shifted from comfortable to absolutely lethal.

Paige’s fingers dug into Stewie’s fur as she stared straight ahead, willing herself to dissolve into the upholstery.

"Actually," Mr. Fudd continued, clearly enjoying himself, "speaking of the party—ground rules."

Azzi groaned, slumping down in her seat. "Oh my God, here we go."

"First of all," he said, holding up a finger like he was delivering a presidential address, "no funny business. None. Zero."

Katie rolled her eyes. "Honey, it’s just a bunch of kids hanging out—"

"Second," he barreled on, "if I see Jace Henderson trying to slow dance with my daughter, I’m throwing him in the chocolate fountain. Clothes on."

Paige’s head whipped toward Azzi before she could stop herself.

Azzi’s cheeks were pink. "Dad. Jace is not going to—"

"Oh, he’s gonna try," Mr. Fudd said darkly. "I’ve seen the way that kid looks at you. Like a puppy who’s been kicked too many times to quit."

Paige’s stomach twisted. Jace Henderson? She hated that guy so much.  And now Mr. Fudd was talking about him slow dancing with Azzi like it was some cute, inevitable thing? Paige’s vision went red at the edges.

Azzi stiffened beside her. "Dad. We’ve talked about this. Jace is literally the last person I’d—"

"I know, I know," Mr. Fudd said, waving a hand. "But that kid’s been sniffing around again, and I swear to God—"

"He what?" The words tore out of Paige’s throat before she could stop them.

Silence.

Three pairs of Fudd eyes locked onto her.

Paige realized, belatedly, that she’d just growled.

Azzi blinked at her. "...You good, P?"

No. Absolutely not.

Paige forced her jaw to unclench. "Just. Y’know. Remembering how he vomited at your own shoes at homecoming. After you know…” She said it like an unspoken thing only her and azzi knew entirely.

Mr. Fudd snorted. "Oh, I remember. I also remember someone"—he shot Azzi a look—"telling me not to ‘commit felonies’ over it."

Katie sighed. "We do have a pool now, honey. Just saying."

Azzi groaned, but Paige caught the way her lips twitched. "Can we please stop plotting murders in front of Paige? She’s visibly vibrating."

Because Paige was. Jace had dared to come crawling back? After what he’d done? 

Azzi huffed, crossing her arms. "Well, it doesn’t matter because I’m not dancing with him—"

"Good," Mr. Fudd said, satisfied. Then, with a glance at Paige: "And I know you two are gonna be sneaking off somewhere at some point, so just—"

"SNEAKING OFF?!" Paige squeaked, voice cracking like she was going through puberty all over again.

Azzi choked on air.

"—so just remember," Mr. Fudd continued, unfazed, "that the backyard has motion-sensor lights. And I will check them."

Paige was going to die. Right here. In this car.

Katie sighed, rubbing her temples. "Sweetheart, you’re traumatizing them."

"I’m preparing them," Mr. Fudd corrected.

Azzi had her face buried in her hands. "I hate this. I hate everything."

And Paige was thinking if she should add a last-minute section called "Dudes Who Suck"  in her gift. 

—— //

The party was scheduled for the day after Azzi’s actual birthday—which meant that when Paige woke up that morning, she found herself tangled in Azzi’s limbs in a completely platonic, best-friend way, of course.

Azzi’s face was smushed into the pillow, her curls wild from sleep, one arm thrown possessively over Paige’s waist like she was a human teddy bear. Paige’s brain short-circuited for a solid ten seconds before she carefully—so carefully—extricated herself, trying not to wake her. (She failed.)

Azzi blinked up at her, groggy and unfairly adorable. "Mmm. S’my birthday?"

Paige’s chest did something complicated. "Yeah, loser. Happy birthday." She reached out, tucking a stray curl behind Azzi’s ear—totally normal best friend behavior—before pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.

Azzi’s sleepy smile hit her like a freight train. Soft, private, the kind that made Paige’s stomach flip. Internal freak-out: activated.

And now, here they were at the lake. She had planned to give Azzi the scrapbook later, in private, when she could maybe handle the emotional fallout. But now, standing on the dock with the sun beating down, she was too busy trying not to combust as Azzi peeled off her t-shirt.

Because holy shit.

Azzi in a bright pink bikini should have come with a warning label.

Paige busied herself with aggressively adjusting her own swimsuit straps, staring at the water like it held the secrets of the universe. Do not look. Do NOT—

"You good?" Azzi grinned, already stepping toward the edge of the dock.

No. Absolutely not.

"Yeah," Paige lied, voice suspiciously high. "Just. Uh. Thinking about lake bacteria."

Azzi laughed, bright and loud, and then—

She jumped.

Water splashed up, droplets catching the sunlight, and Paige had approximately half a second to appreciate the way Azzi surfaced, hair slicked back, before—

"PAIGE. GET IN HERE."

Paige swallowed hard. This was fine. Totally fine.

The lake water was cool against Azzi’s skin as she surfaced, shaking the droplets from her hair. She blinked up at the dock where Paige stood, frozen like a deer in headlights, her cheeks suspiciously pink even in the summer heat.

And then it hit her—Paige was staring. Not just a glance. Not just an accidental look. Staring. A slow, wicked grin spread across Azzi’s face.

Oh, this was fun.

Azzi treaded water lazily, tilting her head. "You gonna stand there all day, or are you coming in?"

Paige jerked like she’d been electrocuted. "I—yeah. Obviously." She cleared her throat, arms crossing tightly over her stomach. "Just. Taking in the view."

"Uh-huh." Azzi smirked. "Great view, right?"

Paige’s eyes flicked down—just for a second—before snapping back up to Azzi’s face. "Yep. Trees. Water. Real... scenic." Azzi bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Then, because she was feeling dangerous, she stretched her arms above her head, arching her back just enough to see if—

Yep. Paige’s breath hitched. Interesting.

Later, sprawled on their towels, Azzi rolled onto her stomach and hooked a finger in the back strap of her bikini top. "Hey, P? Can you get my back? I don’t wanna burn."

Paige choked on nothing. "I—what?"

"Sunscreen," Azzi said innocently, tossing her the bottle. "Unless you want me to peel like a lobster."

"No! I mean—yeah. Sure." Paige’s voice cracked. She took the bottle like it was a live grenade.

Azzi hid her face in her arms, grinning.

The second Paige’s fingers touched her skin, they were trembling.

Azzi closed her eyes. Oh. This was definitely fun. And dangerous, and why did Azzi liked it so much? 

By the time they packed up to leave, Azzi had catalogued three things:

Paige got flustered when Azzi stretched.

She turned bright red when Azzi adjusted her bikini.

And now, as they walked back to the car, Paige was very carefully not looking at her while Azzi let her sundress slip off one shoulder just to see—

"You’re doing this on purpose," Paige hissed under her breath.

Azzi blinked, all wide-eyed innocence. "Doing what?"

Paige groaned, dragging a hand down her face.

And that’s when Azzi realized—she liked this. Not just the teasing. Not just the way Paige’s gaze kept flicking to her like she couldn’t help it. But the wanting. The way Paige looked at her like she was something precious. And maybe… maybe she wanted to see how far she could push it.

———— // 

Now, with the house asleep and the night stretching soft and endless around them, there were no more excuses. Azzi pushed open the screen door, barefoot and rumpled from the day’s chaos. She held two stolen slices of cake in her hands, balancing them precariously as she dropped onto the swing beside Paige.

"You’ve been weird all night," she said, nudging Paige’s knee with hers. "And not your usual brand of weird. Your I’m-hiding-something weird."

Paige swallowed hard. "I—"

Azzi licked frosting off her thumb, waiting.

"I made you something," Paige blurted.

Azzi’s eyebrows shot up. "Is it illegal?"

"What? No!"

"Then why do you look like you’re about to pass out?"

Paige groaned, shoving the scrapbook into Azzi’s lap before she could overthink it again. "Just. Open it."

Azzi’s fingers traced the cover—glitter-strewn and slightly lumpy from Paige’s overzealous glue usage. She flipped it open to the first page, and her breath caught. There they were. Dozens of moments, painstakingly preserved: Azzi mid-laugh, ice cream smeared on her nose. The two of them crammed into a photo booth, making ridiculous faces. Azzi asleep on Paige’s shoulder during a movie night, bathed in blue TV light.

But it wasn’t just the photos. It was the notes scribbled in Paige’s messy handwriting:

"Remember this? You swore you could eat that entire pizza. (You couldn’t.)"

"Best day ever. Even though you insisted on singing the same song for three hours straight."

"I think this is when I realized you’re my favorite person."

Azzi’s fingers trembled.

Paige stared resolutely at her shoes. "It’s dumb, I know. I just—I wanted you to have something to take back with you. So you wouldn’t forget…"

"Forget what?" Azzi’s voice was barely a whisper.

Paige finally looked up—and froze.

Azzi was crying.

Not the pretty, single-tear kind. The messy, whole-face-involved kind, lips pressed together like she was trying to hold back a sob.

"Shit," Paige panicked. "Was it the glitter? I knew I overdid the glitter—"

Azzi launched herself forward, wrapping Paige in a hug so tight it knocked the air from her lungs.

"I love it," she mumbled into Paige’s shoulder. "I love it so much. Thank you Paige.”

Paige’s arms came up instinctively, holding her close. Azzi’s curls smelled like vanilla and summer, and her heartbeat was wild against Paige’s chest.

Then—

Azzi pulled back just enough to meet Paige’s eyes. Her cheeks were wet, her lips parted like she was about to say something—

And Paige knew. This was the moment she fell in love with her best friend. The one where she either leaned in or ran for the hills.

The one where she either leaned in—

Knock knock knock.

The bedroom door swung open before either of them could react.

"Girls!" Mrs. Fudd’s voice cut through the charged silence like a foghorn. "I need help with the—" She stopped mid-sentence, taking in the scene: Azzi still clutching the scrapbook to her chest, Paige frozen, both of them flushed and wide-eyed.

“AZZI, are you crying?" Her mom stepped forward, brow furrowed. "What’s going on?"

Azzi swiped at her cheeks quickly, shaking her head. "No, I’m—it’s nothing. Just allergies."

"In July?" Mrs. Fudd raised an eyebrow, then zeroed in on the book in Azzi’s hands. "What’s that?"

Paige’s breath hitched.

Azzi hesitated, then turned the scrapbook toward her mom. "Paige made it for me. For my birthday."

Mrs. Fudd’s expression softened as she flipped through a few pages—lingering on a photo of Azzi and Paige mid-laugh, their faces smushed together in a selfie. "Oh, honey, this is sweet." She glanced at Paige, who was now studying the ceiling like it held the secrets of the universe. "You put a lot of work into this."

Paige nodded stiffly. "Yeah. Just, uh. A little project." A beat of silence.

Then Mrs. Fudd clapped her hands together, oblivious to the charged air between them. "Well! I do need help with the party setup, but..." She glanced at Azzi’s still-damp lashes, then at Paige’s rigid posture. "...Maybe give it ten minutes?" 

Azzi exhaled sharply. "Thanks, Mom."

Mrs. Fudd smiled, patting Paige’s shoulder as she passed—making the poor girl jump like she’d been zapped. "And Paige? Breathe, honey. You’re turning purple."

The door clicked shut. Another silence. Thicker this time.

Azzi turned slowly toward Paige, who was still staring at the ceiling like it might save her. "So."

Paige swallowed audibly. "So."

Azzi held up the scrapbook, lips quirking. "Just a little project, huh?"

Paige groaned, dragging her hands down her face. "I hate this."

Azzi grinned, stepping closer. "Liar."

———— // 

The day of the party stretched endlessly for Paige.

After dropping Azzi off at the hair salon—where Azzi had kissed her cheek (just a quick peck, totally platonic, definitely not something Paige replayed in her mind approximately fifty times)—Paige had been roped into errands with Azzi’s brothers.

First stop: Party City for last-minute balloons. (Paige may or may not have picked the ones in Azzi’s favorite colors.)

Second stop: The grocery store for ice. (Paige may or may not have stress-bought three bags of Azzi’s favorite chips.)

Third stop: Home, where Paige helped string up lights while stealing glances at the driveway every five seconds.

But Azzi was busy.

Hair appointment. Nails. Whatever mysterious pre-party rituals she had that kept her away all day.

By the time the party started, Paige was vibrating out of her skin.  The backyard was packed and the music was flowing. Paige had been people-watching all evening—her basketball teammate Sam animatedly recounting their last game, a group of Azzi’s friends laughing over something by the drinks table, even Mr. Fudd hovering near the grill with his infamous "I’m watching you" stare directed at Jace.

But then, mid-conversation, her brain short-circuited. Because there, weaving through the crowd with a plate of snacks, was Azzi—not in the flowy blue dress Paige had pictured in her dreams.

No.

She was in that green top—the one that dipped just low enough to make Paige’s throat go tight—and those jeans. The ones Mr. Fudd had specifically told her not to wear because they were, quote, "a felony waiting to happen."

Paige’s drink slipped from her fingers.

Sam blinked at her. "Uh. You good?"

Paige didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Azzi caught her staring and smirked, popping a strawberry into her mouth with deliberate slowness.

Oh. This was a targeted attack.

The party buzzed around Azzi—hugs from friends she hadn’t seen in months, excited chatter about her summer away, even Jace lurking at the edges of conversations like a lost puppy. But through it all, her gaze kept drifting back to her. Paige. Leaning against the fence with her arms crossed, trying (and failing) to look casual. 

Nursing the same soda for the past hour because she kept forgetting to drink it. Watching. Every time Azzi glanced over, Paige’s eyes snapped away like she hadn’t been staring.

It was adorable.

Azzi bit back a grin as she deliberately turned her back, letting Paige think she was safe. She could feel the weight of Paige’s stare burning between her shoulder blades.

Two could play at this.

As the night wore on, Azzi’s parents—after one too many exasperated sighs and half-hearted attempts to police the chaos—finally surrendered. Mr. Fudd tossed the motion sensor remote onto the kitchen counter with a dramatic eye roll, muttering something about "teenagers and their damn hormones," while Mrs. Fudd poured herself a generous glass of wine and declared the backyard a "no-judgment zone."

And just like that—the party became a party.

The music cranked louder. The crowd thickened. Couples disappeared into shadowy corners or pressed together under the dim glow of string lights, lost in each other. A hazy cloud of smoke curled from a group clustered around the old oak tree—whether from cigarettes or something stronger, Paige couldn’t tell.

She should’ve been overwhelmed. Should’ve been scanning the crowd for Azzi’s brothers to make sure they weren’t getting into trouble, or at least pretending to chaperone like she’d promised Mrs. Fudd.

But all she could focus on was her.

Azzi, weaving through the chaos like she was born to own the night. Azzi, laughing as a friend whispered something in her ear, her head thrown back, the column of her throat bathed in firelight. Azzi, catching Paige’s stare from across the yard and holding it—daring her.

Paige’s pulse roared in her ears.

Then, as if the universe had finally decided to cut her a break, Azzi broke away from her friends and started toward her.

[sombrashe]

hiii i binged your entire account and i love the way you write jesse 🙂‍↕️

i was wondering whether you could write something really fluffy where reader is joel’s daughter and she’s dating jesse, and maybe include a part of grumpy but approving joel… and then one day after coming clean to joel about their relationship., jesse goes to readers room and they just go at it all sweet kissing all up on each other.. just really really fluffy hehe

change anything you’d like! thanks sm again really looking forward to reading more of your fics

still my daughter tlou tv show jesse

content ִ ࣪𖤐⋆ fluff, arguing, miller!reader, kisses, lots of dialogue, not edited, lowercase intended

note ִ ࣪𖤐⋆ im so happy you enjoy my jesse works!! he is such a comfort character for me like i meed to lay in his arms after a long day 💔

"Joel, I have to tell you something and you have to promise to be open minded."

"Joel, I'm dating Jesse. Yes, finally."

"Joel,"

your eyes rips up from your desk. turning your head you're just about to rip the paper into little pieces when his head pops in. smiling you giggle as he asks if it's okay to come in.

"Obviously."

jesse enters the room and closes the door with a soft click.

"I told Joel we were practicing the routine for the babies recital."

you nod and join him on the bed. giving him a giggly peck you lean back much more serious.

"We have to tell Joel."

"Right now?"

"That's what I was working on when you walked in."

"What do you have so far?"

"Joel. That's all I know."

"We'll figure it out."

you smile and place another small kiss on his lips. you feel his matching smile on your lips as you break between kisses. pulling you down you giggle and climb onto him. straddling his waist you place a million and one kisses across his darkening face. smooches cover his closed eyes when a knock sounds. your giggles are cut short as the door creeks open. you've just barely hit the ground trying to scramble off jesse when joel walks in. assessing the situation he immediately starts frowning.

"What the hell are you two doing in here?"

"What? Nothing!"

"So you're on the floor for fun?"

"Maybe."

you try out a casual position, trying to play it cool despite jesse's wide eyes at being caught red-handed.

"Get up and explain yourself."

"Joel, I'm a grown ass adult."

"Yet, you're acting right like a teenager."

rising, you stand your ground. folding your arms you spin different confessions in your mind.

"Well?"

"Me and Jesse are dating, have been for three months now."

"You. Out."

he points directly at jesse and the look he gives you on the way out is full of pity. once the front door slams shut he really starts laying into you.

"You wanna end up like Ellie? A teenage parent? Because fooling around secretly is how you become one."

"Jesse and Dina weren't sneaking around when she got pregnant."

"Not my point. You don't need that on your plate. You're busy making a place for yourself here."

"That's not fair. I should be able to have a relationship and grow. Jesse isn't stunting me, Joel."

"How do you know? It's only been three months."

"Wanna know what have I've done in those three months? Maria finally offered me a spot on the council. I've become the primary teacher for the babies to the teens."

"I get it."

"No you don't. I've also been happier, I haven't done anything stupid have I? I haven't even begged to go on patrol."

"Kiddo."

"No Joel, I get it. I live under your roof and if that's the problem I'll move out."

"You don't have to do that."

"Then what is it? You don't like Jesse? He's not good enough? I'm not good enough?"

"No, no. I don't. I don't know. I guess you're just growing up too fast."

"Joel."

"No i get it. You've been an adult for a while now. It's time I let you live your life. I can't protect you forever. God knows Ellie showed me that."

"So you're not mad at me?"

"God, no, kiddo. You'd have to do a lot more than get a boyfriend for me to be mad at you."

he closes the space between you to gently gather you into his arms. placing a kiss atop your head he squeezes you tight. pulling away he holds you at an arms length. smiling sadly he mumbles something about sarah before leaving. blinking, you go back to your desk wordlessly. about a half and hour passes of you simply doing work for you classes tomorrow when you hear clicking coming for your window. curious you walk over to see something small pelt the glass. opening your window you look down to see jesse's lopsided grin. smiling you rush downstairs to let him in. dragging him up the stairs you fill him in on joel's whereabouts. he had left shortly after your conversation after tommy radioed him for some reason. you stop jesse from closing the door with a short giggle. you felt giddy like a teenager in love. maybe joel was onto something there. your thoughts are cut off when chapped lips press against yours. you can't help but smile and giggle in between kisses. soft ones that make your heart beat in your ears.

"So."

"It was a lot, but he approves."

"He really is a girl dad, huh?"

"Shut up."

you pout and he kisses it with a small smile. falling onto the bed you curl into his side. you babble on about work and life while he rubs shapes against your arm.

[maxdibert]

You always say that JKR's female characters have sexist characteristics, and I agree. Now I'm thinking, do the male characters have the same problem? I feel like we talk so much more about the female characters, because we analyse them from a feminist perspective. But are the male characters that much different?

When I think about a male character who gets portrayed in a sexist manner, of course Snape comes to mind. Because he doesn't have traditionally masculine traits, and often gets treated as too emotional or "hysterical", even in the moments he has every right to be angry. Do we have any other examples?

Ohhh my friend, you just pick my favorite topic: gender roles in fiction. This is gonna be so long that's because i didn't answered before. But what can I say? I love gender analysis. Well, the sexism in Harry Potter doesn't just harm or flatten its female characters, it also shapes the men in rigid, gendered ways. The narrative tells us what kinds of men deserve praise and which ones deserve ridicule or punishment, and those judgments often mirror traditional, patriarchal ideals of masculinity.

Severus is a prime example. He’s written with traits that are culturally coded as unmasculine: emotional intensity, awkwardness, deep attachment, and vulnerability. But instead of being treated with compassion or complexity, he’s portrayed as bitter, obsessive, even “pathetic.” His grief, rage, and isolation are often mocked or pathologized, rather than explored. The narrative treats his emotions as excesses, as if he should be more stoic, more composed—more “manly.” This isn’t just a character flaw—it’s a rejection of any masculinity that doesn’t align with dominance, physical bravery, or emotional control.

Neville, for example, also demonstrates how the story treats alternative masculinities. Early on, he’s timid, forgetful, and sensitive. These traits are framed as embarrassing until he becomes braver, more assertive, and physically courageous. In short, until he conforms to the warrior-hero mold. Only then does the narrative grant him respect. The same applies to Harry himself: when he expresses emotions —particularly grief or anger— he’s dismissed as “moody” or irrational. The story often limits him to being a brave, self-sacrificing leader, but gives him very little emotional support or space for vulnerability. There's no real model for healthy emotional masculinity in the series, only the expectation that boys must “man up” to be heroes.

Hagrid is another example: deeply nurturing, emotionally expressive, and connected to nature and animals, traits often associated with care work and maternal energy. But instead of being respected for those qualities, he’s infantilized and often used as comic relief. His gentle masculinity is never truly valued: is ridiculed.

Contrast this with how the narrative treats women: the only ones who are consistently admired or respected are those who adopt traditionally masculine (but specifically patriarchal) traits: McGonagall, Ginny (in the later books), Tonks (to a degree), and of course Hermione. These women are praised for being rational, assertive, clever, emotionally restrained, and good at traditionally male-coded skills like dueling or strategy. But when they express vulnerability or compassion —or engage in emotional labor— they’re often sidelined or seen as less effective. The narrative doesn't reward care or softness in women any more than it does in men. Feminine-coded traits —empathy, nurturing, emotional openness— are simply not respected in Rowling’s world, she doesn’t uplift a deconstructed, emotionally mature masculinity in either men or women, she simply maps the traditional masculine ideal onto certain female characters and punishes the rest. The politics of care, softness, emotional labor are consistently devalued in the narrative, regardless of who displays them.

And this binary logic extends even to the depiction of villains. Take Lucius Malfoy and Tom Riddle, for instance. Both are presented as elegant, refined, beautiful even, traits often associated with femininity. Tom is repeatedly described as “handsome,” charismatic, and physically graceful. Lucius is cold, vain, poised, and his long blond hair and pristine appearance mark him as almost effeminate. These aesthetic choices are not incidental: the text uses their "feminine" physicality and polished manners to underscore their moral corruption. Their deviation from rugged, physical masculinity becomes part of their danger. It reinforces the idea that ambiguity—especially gender ambiguity— is inherently threatening.

This is a very old trope: the villain whose femininity is a sign of deceit, vanity, and perversion. In contrast to the "good" masculinity of characters like Lupin, Sirius (though flawed), or even Dumbledore in certain contexts, Tom and Lucius are coded as deceptive, performative, and manipulative, traits historically attributed to women in patriarchal literature.

Rowling’s portrayal of masculinity in the serues isn’t just about punishing deviation from patriarchal norms. It’s also about celebrating and excusing those who most embody traditional, dominant masculinity, even when they behave in deeply harmful or morally hypocritical ways. Two of the clearest examples are Sirius Black and James Potter.

Sirius is a textbook case of this. The narrative goes out of its way to frame him as attractive, charismatic, rebellious, and brave, the quintessential "cool bad boy." He’s constantly described in a romanticized, even fetishized light: leather jackets, long hair, brooding stares, a tortured past. Rowling makes sure we know he was handsome as a teenager and still has that allure, despite everything. But beneath that carefully maintained image lies a deeply flawed, morally inconsistent man. He is impulsive, often cruel, emotionally stunted, and astonishingly reckless with Harry, treating him less like a child in his care and more like a replacement for his lost best friend.

Sirius clearly struggles with trauma and imprisonment, but the narrative infantilizes him to excuse his worst traits. His emotional immaturity, his inability to grow beyond the age he was when he was imprisoned, is framed as tragic rather than irresponsible. His deep resentment of his family background, while understandable, leads to abusive behavior, yet it's never really questioned or addressed. He taunts Kreacher, encourages Harry to take unnecessary risks, and repeatedly projects his unresolved issues onto others. And yet, instead of holding him accountable, the narrative bends over backward to present him as misunderstood, loyal, and ultimately noble. His hypermasculine traits—defiance, aggression, emotional repression—are romanticized, even when they make him a terrible role model and Rowling excuses him constantly because well, he's a man isn't him? Men are men after all.

James is similarly protected by the narrative. He's introduced, retrospectively, as a school bully: arrogant, cruel, and dismissive of others (especially Snape). In SWM makes this abundantly clear: he bullies Snape for no reason other than boredom and ego. But Rowling frames his redemption not through any internal change or reckoning, but through Lily. We’re told James "grew out of it" because Lily wouldn't date him otherwise. The implication is that the love or approval of a good woman is what transforms a toxic man into a worthy one, a deeply sexist trope that places the burden of male moral development on women, rather than demanding accountability.

James doesn’t evolve because he recognizes his behavior was wrong, he changes because it wins him the girl. There’s no moment of reflection or apology, no exploration of the damage he caused. Instead, the narrative assures us that because he was brave, rich, talented, and confident —because he died fighting Voldemort— his earlier behavior is irrelevant. He’s mythologized as a hero, a perfect father, a natural leader. Once again, the narrative rewards hypermasculinity —dominance, swagger, courage in battle— while erasing the harm it can cause when it goes unchecked.

These character arcs are deeply gendered. Sirius and James are not punished for their aggression, recklessness, or cruelty,they're forgiven, romanticized, even sanctified, because they embody traits traditionally associated with masculine greatness.

So when we step back, we see that Rowling's narrative doesn't just operate in a patriarchal world: it actively endorses patriarchal values. The story rewards characters who conform to traditional masculinity, regardless of gender, and punishes or ridicules those who don't. Emotionality, care, and vulnerability —whether in men or women— are dismissed or treated as weaknesses. And even when characters are powerful, if they possess feminine-coded traits, that power is portrayed as dangerous, unstable, or even evil.

The result is a world where gender roles are rigid, and where only patriarchal traits —strength, control, intellect, emotional repression— are validated. That’s not just a flaw in the world-building; it’s a political stance embedded in the structure of the narrative itself.

[scribblecon]

Hooogh I’ve had this in my wips for a while and finally finished it. Untitled Skids x reader because it’s almost 2am and I just want to post it I can’t faff about deciding on a title right now lol

SFW, GN reader

—

“Skids! You made it!” You exclaim, arms open as Skids enters your habsuite.

“How could I pass up spending time with you?” He throws you a lazy smile before taking a look around the room. He notices what appears to be a workstation set up on the desk with some materials you’d been gradually collecting from various planets the Lost Light had stopped at on its travels. “Er, what, exactly, is this by the way? Some kind of experiment?”

You break out into a grin as you tell him to sit down and switch to his holo avatar, then start explaining. How you remembered him saying he doesn’t have any hobbies because he gets bored of things once he masters them, and that got you thinking, what if there’s a skill no one can truly master? You’re not sure about Cybertronians but humans have been arguing about and striving to perfect different art forms for centuries, so, why not start with painting?

Now in his avatar, Skids joins you on the desk to inspects your materials. It’s nice of you to think of him like this, but it’s only a matter of time before his brain starts piecing things together and he gets restless for something else to do. At least it’s an excuse to spend time with you.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking,” You interrupt Skids’s train of thought, patting his avatar’s shoulder. “You’ll just master painting like you have with all your other skills. But I want you to go into this with no examples or references. Paint something from the heart. Or, uh, spark, in your case. You know what I mean.”

“From the spark.” He turns to face you, raising an eyebrow. Still not fully convinced, but interested.

“… I’m going to explain the basic properties of oil painting so you don’t destroy any of my stuff by accident and then turn you loose on a canvas. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like you’re throwing me in at the deep end.”

“And when has that ever been a problem for you?”

—

You’re hard at work directly opposite him, having arranged the easels so that he ‘couldn’t cheat’ by watching your own creative process, but Skids has no idea where to start. Self expression does not come easily to mechs that have been fighting for millions of years. Staring at the colours you had set out for him, he picks one at random and squeezes it onto the palette. He’ll just make something up as he goes and say it’s abstract expressionism.

What started out as picking colours at random has turned into something far more methodical and an exercise in frustration. There’s something in the back of his mind that he can’t quite remember but as he smears another streak of orange across the canvas the memory feels more tangible, only for it to evade him just as he feels like it’s within reach. Swapping out brushes for palette knives, he builds up layers of texture, carving out shapes in some areas and spreading paint around in others.

Ready to take a break, you drop your brush in a jar of turpentine and walk over to see how Skids is doing. “Woah. It’s like staring into a pool of magma.” You can’t quite put your finger on it, but something about the painting makes you uneasy. “A little unsettling when you look at it for too long though, don’t you think?”

“Unsettling?” Taking a step back, he frowns as he wipes off the palette knife in his hand. That hadn’t been his intention. He kind of sees what you mean though. In a sea of oranges and yellows so bright they almost glow against the dark background, right in the centre there’s some marks that look like part of a face in the midst of an inferno. He hadn’t put a face there on purpose, but now he’s spotted it, he can’t unsee it.

“It’s not a bad thing.” You murmur. “Are you alright though? You looked pretty intense earlier.”

“Nah, I’m fine.” He can feel his head starting to hurt. “Using a holo-matter for too long can really wear a guy out, though. Time to call it a day?”

“Oh, god,” checking the time, you realise several hours have passed. “We’ve been working for a while, huh?”

“It’s no bother,” He says, avatar dissipating. It takes a moment before his optics switch back on and he continues speaking. “Really, It was interesting. We should do this again. Now how about you clean yourself up and we head to Swerve’s?”

You look at your hands and down at your clothes, marred with paint stains. “Sounds like a plan. Give me 10 minutes.”

[mongoosingisme]

Would the smut break mean that the current in progress works (13 ways, and I think you said something about pepper problems?) would be put on hold?

Hello, anon! You probably didn’t intend this, but you opened a door to an opportunity for me to Talk About Myself a bit, so I’m going to… do that?

Short answer: not officially, but a slowdown was coming anyway

Long answer: I started writing fanfic after ending a 15 year long career as a freelance copy and content writer (ask me my opinions about generative AI sometime! 🫠). I figured I was burned out on writing altogether, but after a few months of nothing I’m like “I wonder if I could write something different?” Operation: Doctor Support happened, and I was like “oh, okay, this was really fun, and I’m not mad at what I’ve written, so what now?”

The answer was, like, a rubber band effect of a decade and a half of writing product copy and stupid brand blogs that no one would ever read. My brain was like “smut smut smut smut that’s the exact opposite you never got to write that stuff dooooooooooooo it”

It’s starting to work its way out of my system, and now I’m looking at things more like “okay, I’ve coasted on my base level of writing skill forever, but now I want to, like, improve.” Which is scary and overwhelming and I’ve been getting into my head about it a lot.

So. 13 Ways. I have big ideas for that one, but I’m not sure my skills are up to pulling it off. I’m at a bit of a crossroads with it, and I’d rather take the time it needs for me to figure out my next steps. I expect that I’ll keep updating it at the pace I had before, about once a month. I have a chapter for it written, but I want to give it some time to simmer and come back to it with a clearer head to make sure it’s doing what I want it to do

Pepper Problems…. I kind of just black out for a while and then read over what I wrote and ask myself “is it angst? Is it hot? Yes and yes? Okay! Post!” So it’s hard to predict on that one, but I don’t see that one slowing down too too much.

I’ve talked with some other creators in the fandom recently about the effect of dopamine/feedback/likes and kudos. I’m incredibly susceptible to that sort of thing, and it does impact my writing choices sometimes. I want to make sure what I write is what I want it to be, but I struggle not to project what I expect readers want onto what I’m trying to create. My livelihood depended on my ability to intuit what others wanted from my writing for a very long time, and I need to accept that it’s not something I can shake off in a few months. But it’s vital that I do so, I think.

All that is to say…

Not sure? Nothing is officially on hold, but slowing down is something I’ve known I needed to do for a bit anyway.

If you read all that… why? Also I love you. At the risk of sounding, like, overwrought, the past few months have been healing for me in a way I didn’t know I needed. It’s been incredible to just write, and I’m so grateful that it’s being read. Truly. Thank you.

[starheirxero]

PLEASE become evil on main your thoughts are always very interesting !! :3

Anon I need you to know I was debating just only making that one post and then biting my tongue about the rest but this ask was genuinely so relieving to see that I teared up a little bit thank you HDKSHDJD

I did, however, uhm. talk a Lot. and I'm very much being more honest about my feelings on this than I usually am, so it's going under the cut bdjshdjdnf

Ahem ahem. So. From a meta standpoint? I just have a very, very weird feeling about what's going on with tsams now that they've Also changed Lunar's name. The only information we have on what's happening is from Discord, where Kat mentioned it wasn't her choice to change Earth's name and the mods reassuring everyone that the changes are for a good reason. I've been seeing theories that the changes are to make them more sellable for merch? But I,, don't fully know why they'd have to change their own OCs for that? So idk

From a story perspective though? It doesn't make sense and it's just another vein of Lunar having no choice in what happens to them.

Just because Libra asked "do you accept this permanent name change?" doesn't mean that "no" was a valid answer, because then what would have happened? They say "actually, I like my name, Lunar feels fine" and then what? The astrals, of which are famously judgy and pushy, say "okay, we'll continue to call you Lunar then! (Even though we just said that Lunar is an unfitting astral name)" like?!?!!??? And Lunar just immediately goes home to be like "uh. I guess I have a different name now? and I don't wanna deal with two names, so just call me Cosmos too."

They didn't make this choice. And honestly! They couldn't have because Lunar wouldn't have ever changed their name of their own volition!!! You can't tell me that Lunar—the character who is known for trying to cling onto a sense of identity so hard that it causes more problems for them in the long run—would be willing to let go of their own name? That is the one thing about them that actually hasn't changed since the beginning, the one thing that's consistent in the face of everything.

Plus, on a more personal note? I had an experience with my old username where everyone was calling me a nickname derived from my url instead of my actual chosen name, and the realization that only one person was calling me my actual preferred name made me have a messy identity crisis. If Lunar wasn't just, a character who is unfortunately the subject of bad writing lately, this choice would probably hit them at some point. They'd probably have that same awful, dreadful feeling of "oh god. no one even knows me."

It's just. Earth made sense because she at least gave her own reasons. She said "yeah I'm tryna be my own person now, so I'm Terra!" but Lunar's reason was just "uh. Libra gave it to me sooo.... 👍 yup." Like. augghhh. They could have gone by both Lunar and Cosmos too if the writing wasn't being so weird but !!! ugh. deflates. it's whateverrrrr

[bookwyrminspiration]

fillinf out all the stupid forms and ordering a stupid transcript to explain to the stupid financial aid people that the reason I have so many stupid credits but am not in my stupid degree program yet is because they're stupid transfers from stupid OTHER college and stupid OTHER degrees and most of the stupid credits are not! actually! relevant! to my stupid CURRENT degree paths!

[sunlight-shunlight]

putting it into an ask because I don't want to derail your post sorry

As someone who's culture lost their last L1 Speaker around the time they were born. This!! So much this!!

It is EXTREMELY difficult to learn endangered languages, and from experience the people who do know how to speak some of it are extremely protective of it even to others from that same culture! (something that makes me even more attached to the dalish as a peoples sigh)

I would die for the chance to speak my tribes original language but even if I could jump through the hoops to do it, a decade is decisively not. enough. time. to do so. Yet alone to adopt the native cadence of the language. Again even if I wanted too! Which I desperately desperately do!

Lavellan would have to jump through so many hoops that by the time she might be ready to start speaking it regularly (in the context of ancient elvhen) that Veilguard would probably be on the horizon already. That's also given the idea that there are even universities willing to put aside discriminatory behavior twords the elves to provide classes on such specific subjects. AND putting aside the whole 'wow that's straight up the herald of andraste in my Sociolinguistics class' with the problems that would cause.

I mean, I know its a fantasy universe and I'm really projecting on it here but like hear me out- I have a dictionary and a book of stories translated by scholars I will never meet, and a series of audio-files that I myself had to copy convert to a format I could have on my phone and listen to. I'm untrained and uneducated on how to go about it sure but even with my available tools it feels like an uphill battle with every new word I pick out to practice. I sing songs from that book fully knowing Im butchering it the whole time, and try my best to feel connected to something i know I cannot fully understand. And that's beautiful! That;s fantastic! There's something to truly love there! And veilguard doesn't even let us try to explore that idea!

The fact that we don't get to choose whether or not we drank from the well makes this so extremely frustrating. The game gives both the Inquisitor and Moriggan the benefits of the well without ever allowing our input. Because to me the only way that Lavellan could become even partially fluent in ancient elvhen would be if she drank from the well. But then Moriggan is also allowed all types of unlocked knowledge from her deus-ex-inner-mythal shes suddenly alright with having been provided from her mother despite her horror in DAI.

It takes away a huge part of what I think Solas really liked about a romanced Inky, as she was always so curious and open to learning new things about the past- Even when they would clash on certain subjects. It takes away this really lovely concept that even if they are going into the torment nexus together that he could at least be teaching her the language in there on top of it all. He would love her broken annunciations and he awkward cadence, and respond in kind ;w;

I'm super biased about the torment nexus ending because I love the mythological tragedy of it but there should have been so many more choices ugghh. While I would still choose this ending regardless I think the idea that the inquisitor should have been able to have at least an on screen spat between her and Solas, There is absolutely good reason for it all considering.

She should have had moments where she slips in and out of what she had learned from the ancient dialect, Where she goes from in canter to out because of how passionate she might be in that moment. Going from trade to elvhen and back. It would be glaringly obvious that she practiced what she did want to say to him in the final battle and he would be able to tell. It would mean so much more to him than her just magically understanding it all at once.

we could have one of his stupid chuckles with tears welling in his eyes and everything like damn you bioware *shaking fist at cloud*

At least give me some kind of 'a romanced inquisitor convened with spirits to learn' kind of explanation if you're going to magic it into her knowledge I mean please!

Anyway sorry for the ramble, I wouldn't have the confidence to share this if it wasn't for your posts so thanks for all of your lore-dives and analysis posts I do genuinely enjoy all of them.

♥🤝

yeah!! i very much agree. i'm very mildly bilingual (not good at it ahaha) and like... that language is not endangered in the least, half my family still speaks it, and it's still just hard to re-learn on a basic level! and to me there's always that degree of self consciousness and feeling a bit bad about not knowing, when it's a language i feel like i "should" know, as opposed to a fully second language that i'm just learning from scratch. and personally i get stressed and actively worse at it when people expect me to be fluent and get disappointed when i'm not. the social pressure alone removes some linguistic ability, haha.

so i found it sad that lavellan - regardless of the well - gets pushed into suddenly being 100% fluent. she can still be dalish and not good at it! or just not the type of person who'd think to speak in it in front of random people (everyone else standing there fdhjdgd). i thought of my inquisitor as a city elf who was adopted into the clan as a child, and tried REALLY hard to learn elvhen afterwards bc she wanted to fit in. but it's not "natural" to her to slip into it for longer or more complex ideas. and arguably if a lavellan got "woe, fluency be upon ye" from the well, they might actually be LESS likely to use it in speaking, bc it is also a bit of a mind control symptom at that point...

and imo it's actually really sweet that solas falls in love with someone who - at least in dai - is really different from him! on top of being a cringe fail mortal from the world he initially hated, and from a culture that doesn't like him, lavellan does not have to be very in tune with the language or culture as he knows it. he goes for their ~rare and marvelous spirit~ rather than anything else, and is happy to share with them, but it's never like a mandatory thing.

I mean, I know its a fantasy universe and I'm really projecting on it here but like hear me out- I have a dictionary and a book of stories translated by scholars I will never meet, and a series of audio-files that I myself had to copy convert to a format I could have on my phone and listen to. I'm untrained and uneducated on how to go about it sure but even with my available tools it feels like an uphill battle with every new word I pick out to practice. I sing songs from that book fully knowing Im butchering it the whole time, and try my best to feel connected to something i know I cannot fully understand. And that's beautiful! That;s fantastic! There's something to truly love there! And veilguard doesn't even let us try to explore that idea!

and this is exactly it!! i think that experience of slowly picking up things and figuring out how much you can learn is really important, and they just skipped over that entirely to "lavellan is now suddenly fluent in elvhen. yay!" which kind of elides how much work that is, how or why they would've done that, whether they would've wanted to...

like that's a whole character arc that seemingly just gets skipped offscreen and made mandatory! and it's not bc the writers are saying anything really deep and meaningful about cultural reconnection, but bc i think they were likely not ever in the position of having to think about those types of decisions themselves, and uncharitably, were like "ok. solas is super elfy, right. so to make it more romantic, make lavellan super elfy as well! yay! Problem Solved :)" when that was never a problem. ;-;

[no1ryomafan]

Been thinking about this too hard lately regarding my special interests but I find it funny how mega man was something I can’t remember if I ever convinced anyone to play due to how difficult it was despite the fact series order didn’t matter-even if people pushed it, it’s not the end of the world if you play ZX before Zero or shit like that-yet I’ve been able to easily get people into getter and I know it’s cause it’s only 13 eps (not looking at toei) and watching a show a easier commitment then playing a game, but I realized more and more over time that “oh yeah getter is one of those fucking things where you actually need to read the manga before watching most of the anime’s to really understand wtf going on despite them being all different canons” and I’ve low key feel bad that my friends do not get to know the full context of things.

It’s a general thing to my understanding that old anime adaptations after the 70s but before current day while do their own thing and not properly follow the manga, still have wanted you to have read it prior to understand what’s going on despite the adaptation not being a sequel. I felt this was especially apparent with dynapro mecha, I read the jeeg manga before I watched shin jeeg and while it also heavily referenced toei jeeg it makes part of the story easier to understand even if shin does bother to explain who past characters are to the audience, mazinger plots are fairly simple and I know people say shin is a great start but Mazinkaiser throws you into things, none of the characters get proper introductions despite how episodic the plot gets later, but Getter? All of the OVAs took different parts of the manga and stitched them together in a weird way, and also most of the characters again do not get proper introductions so you’ll be like “who?” the entire time.

New is the only one where this isn’t a huge issue as it feels designed almost to be a entry series for newbies but there’s still problems with it being your first getter entry even if it’s more minor compared to arma or svn, but stuff like Musashibo being Benkei and Musashi merged into one so if you watch the other ovas without reading the manga you’ll be like “who?” to those two in say arma and the fact while it reveals the cosmic horror aspect better then the other ovas, the ending can still be seen as super vague. (If anything what new does best without needing manga knowledge is the fact it’s middle arc is just also using a different Ishikawa manga cause that thing did not get finished translating so most English fans will never know wtf is going on there LOL but new explained it fairly well)

Genuinely it sucks to say since I don’t like dictating what order people consume media in cause at the end of the day if they’re confused yet still get into the series it does not matter, but getter to be properly experienced cannot be done if your a anime only. You really do need to read the manga to understand most of the anime’s unless you stick to Toei stuff, but that’s so different that your still not getting the proper getter experience.