#Enjoy it with a background and without a background!!!

[synvil]

light as a feather // bf! rafe cameron

synopsis : you hesitant to ask your boyfriend to try a trend your friends show you, afraid of being too heavy, but he proves you wrong. mentions of insecurity.

“have you seen this trend around, [name]?”

tilting her phone towards you so you can view the screen better, a tiktok compilation began to play.

it’s a compilation of various couples with pretty much the same thing, all the boyfriends lifting their partners onto their shoulders, while an audio edit of rihanna’s breakin’ dishes plays in the background.

“uh, i think I’ve seen one or two of it. why?” you ask, pulling your cup to your lips and taking a sip through the straw. “have you considered asking rafe to try it with you?” kie asks and you furrow your brows. “why would i do that?”

“because it’s fun! you can see if rafe is strong.” kie laughs as sarah pulls out her own phone and the two girls scroll through their device. “we did it too!”

in sync, the two turn their phones your way and the audio plays, with john b lifting sarah while she crosses her leg and flashes a confident smile, while jj does the same for kie, with the two grinning proudly and laughing in the video.

the sight makes you smile as you chuckle and pull away. “how cute.”

“c’mon, you should try it with rafe! make a video and send it to us and we can post it on our socials~!” sarah beams and you sigh, swirling your beverage. “i don’t know, rafe isn’t really into the stuff.. and besides i might be too heavy for him.”

“don’t be silly, rafe is probably stronger than both john b and jj, honestly.” kie grunts out, not particularly thrilled about her compliment to rafe but you laugh at that.

“maybe, but still.. we’ll see.”

“hey, rafe?”

“yeah, baby?” glancing up from his phone, his eyes travel to you standing from the doorway of the living room entrance and you smile faintly, taking a stride towards your boyfriend seated on the couch.

instinctively, he opens his arms and you climb into his lap and pull out your phone. “have you seen this?” you show him the same compilation video from earlier.

rafe watches it and scrunches his nose briefly before returning to his normal neutral expression. “yeah, what about it? topper told me about it. he struggled lifting ruthie a bit.” he scoffs.

“can we try it?..” the hesitance in your voice makes him confused. “why are you being so shy about it, baby?”

your lips unconsciously curl into a small frown as you rest on his chest. “I don’t know.. I might be too heavy for you.. but kie and sarah want me to do this tiktok thing and-“

rafe suddenly brings his hands to your hips, firmly gripping the flesh before standing up and lifting you with ease into the air, high up making you squeal and clutch onto him. “rafe!”

your boyfriend grins at your reaction as he carefully places you onto his shoulder, hand resting atop of your thighs while the other holds yours to steady you.

“don’t underestimate me again, sweetheart. you’re light as a feather.”

bonus : you managed to convince rafe to do it for a tiktok video, even though he wasn’t particularly excited about recording himself doing it, he did it anyways to make you happy.

as the audio plays, rafe tosses you up and lands you in his shoulder without so much of a flinch, and he’s smirking while you hide your flushed face in embarrassment.

sending the video to kie and sarah, the three of you posted your individual videos to your socials and garnered quite the view count.

rafe who saw, hums curiously. “i suppose doing more to expand your followers couldn’t hurt.”

a/n : hope you enjoy! i’m tryna think of tiktok trends lol these short things w rafe seem so cute :)) let me know your thoughts! <3

[velarisdusk]

Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off

word count: 1.9k author's note: i had the idea for this one literally AS i was writing the last one im annoyed i didnt write it right after bc i know i had GREAT ideas that i literally cannot remember anymore sigh ✦ . AU Masterlist . ✦ ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

The venue hums with the kind of energy you’d expect for a band as big as Wings of Illyria, the low chatter and country rock playing in the background almost drowned out by the buzz around the meet-and-greet booth.

Cassian, the life of the party you always imagined him to be, is already surrounded by fans, effortlessly drawing people in with that easy grin of his. But security is quick to move in, ushering people away with practiced calm, the crowd reluctantly shifting to make room for the band’s massive presence.  Rhysand sits beside him, polished and smooth as ever, his gaze flicking between the crowd and the band’s merch, playing the role of the charming frontman like he was born for it. But Azriel—Azriel looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

You spot him leaning back in his chair, a half-smirk barely visible beneath the dark fringe of his hair, eyes scanning the room with a look that says he’s mentally checked out. The cigarette tucked behind his ear, defying the “No Smoking” sign above the booth, is the least surprising thing about him.

You can’t help but notice how effortlessly Azriel leans into the atmosphere, the way his posture seems to say he’s both above it all and fully in control of the space around him. The black leather jacket slung over his chair, the way his fingers casually thrum against the table, it’s all effortlessly cool. But before you can linger on him too long, a voice cuts through the room, sharp and high-pitched enough to make your teeth ache. 

The girl in front of you is practically vibrating, her hands shaking as she clutches her phone to her chest like it’s a lifeline. “Oh my God, oh my God,” she whispers to her friend, barely able to hold it together. “What if I say something dumb? What if they laugh at me? What if Az doesn’t even look at me? I have to tell him how much I—”

It’s the way she says Az—not like she’s just a fan, but like she’s personally on a nickname basis with him—that makes your eye twitch. You don’t want to judge, but fuck, could people just enjoy things without this level of intensity? She’s decked out in enough Wings of Illyria merch to make you wonder if she owns anything that isn’t branded. Her denim jacket is practically a billboard for the band, from the patches to the pins to the shirts she’s stacked under it, all so bright and loud it’s almost cartoonish. She looks exactly like the kind of people you’ve seen mocked in those “fan stereotype” posts, and it grates on you more than it should.

You bite back a sigh, trying to ignore the discomfort gnawing at your nerves. It’s not her fault, right? People can like things however they want. But as you stand there, you can’t shake the tightness in your chest, the buzz of unease you’ve been carrying all day. You hadn’t gotten much sleep last night—too busy running through every possible scenario, obsessing over the idea that maybe, just maybe, you’d misinterpreted the song. What if it wasn’t about you at all? What if you’d been foolish to even think it was? You’d spent so much time convincing yourself this was the right thing to do, that you could handle whatever confrontation came with it. But now, with the weight of it all on your shoulders, doubts have started to creep in. 

To each their own, you remind yourself, trying to shake the jittery feeling in your stomach. 

The line inches forward, and you shuffle along with it, caught between your own nerves and the chaos around you. Every second stretches and the girl ahead of you is still whispering furiously to her friend about all the reasons this moment is life-changing for her. You try to tune it out, focusing instead on the distant hum of the music overhead, and the faint shuffle of feet, the air heavy with anticipation.

And then, it’s your turn. 

Cassian is the first to notice you, his smile broad and infectious, like he’s genuinely thrilled to meet every single person who steps up to the booth. “Hey!” he greets warmly, his voice loud enough to carry over the din. “You excited for the show?”

“Yeah, definitely,” you reply, shifting your weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks.”

Cassian beams like you’ve just made his night. “That’s what I like to hear! First time seeing us live?”

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Second. Saw you guys in Orlando last year.”

“No shit?” he says, leaning forward slightly. “That was a great crowd. One of the best on that leg of the tour. You catch the whole set?

“Most of it,” you admit. “I got stuck in traffic and missed the first couple of songs.”

Rhysand, who’s been quietly observing, chuckles at that. “Typical,” he says, his voice smooth and amused. “Traffic in that city is practically a right of passage.”

“Right?” you say, laughing despite yourself. “I swear I left two hours early and still barely made it in time for ‘Bloodlines.’”

Cassian gives you a mock sympathetic look. “Tragic. That’s one of my favorites to play live.”

“It’s a good one,” you say, your nerves easing just a little. You glance between the two of them, noting how Rhys’s sharp gaze is fixed on you like he can tell there’s another reason you’re here. 

“So,” Rhys says, tilting his head slightly. “What’s your favorite track?”

How the hell—

“I mean, the whole album is great,” you say, “but ‘Sear My Skin’ has been on repeat lately.”

It’s a calculated choice, and you don’t miss the quirk of Azriel’s brow in your peripheral. 

“Interesting pick,” Rhys says, his smirk widening. “That one’s been causing a bit of a stir lately.”

Cassian chuckles. “Yeah, Az really knocked it out of the park with that one.”

And there it is—the perfect segue. You glance past them, finally letting your gaze settle on Azriel, who’s been silent this whole time. 

He’s leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable as his dark eyes meet yours. For a second, the noise of the room seems to fade, and you realize your heart is pounding in your chest, 

“Azriel,” you say, his name coming out steadier than you expected. “Can I ask you something?”

He quirks that brow again, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “You just did.”

Cassian groans dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. “Come on, man. Don’t make it harder than it needs to be,” he mutters.

Azriel ignores him, his gaze still fixed on you. “What’s the question?”

You take a breath, forcing yourself to hold his stare. “The song—’Sear My Skin.’ Is it about me?”

Rhysand doesn’t bother hiding his laughter, leaning back in his chair like he’s settling in for a show. Cassian’s drink nearly slips out of his hand, and he mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, Oh, shit.

Azriel doesn’t react immediately. He just stares at you, his expression unreadable, until the silence stretches so thin you think it might snap. 

“Who are you?” he asks finally, his tone maddeningly calm. 

You blink, thrown off by the audacity of the question. “You seriously don’t remember me?”

He leans back, shrugging one shoulder. “I don’t remember half the women I sleep with.” Cassian chokes on his drink, Rhysand’s grin stretching wide enough to show teeth, but you’re not about to let Azriel off that easily. 

“Pressed against the door, your lips trace the ache?” You quote the line pointedly, crossing your arms as you glare at him. The memory rushes back—how he’d tasted on your tongue, how his hands had threaded through your hair before all hell broke loose. “Sound familiar?”

“It’s not that deep,” Azriel replies, his tone dismissive, though his gaze sharpens ever so slightly. 

“Really?” you counter, your tone dripping with incredulity. “Right before I finish, your body’s all I feel, breathed in your ear ‘you feel too good to be real.’” Your voice rises, your chest tightening as the words leave your mouth. “You literally said that to me while you were balls deep in me against a wall.”

Azriel freezes, his lips parting slightly as a faint flicker of surprise breaks through his carefully guarded expression. For a split second, it’s almost satisfying. 

Cassian’s reaction is anything but subtle. His chair scrapes loudly against the floor as he doubles over in laughter, nearly spilling his drink again. He gasps, pounding the table. “Yo, what the fuck?!”

Rhysand isn’t fairing much better, his laughter barely contained as he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his amusement still sharp but with a more controlled edge than Cassian’s, to his credit.

Azriel’s jaw tightens, and he finally breaks eye contact, glancing down at the table. “Okay,” he mutters, the word barely audible over the laughter. “Maybe it’s a little about you.”

Cassian claps a hand over his mouth, trying and failing to muffle another loud “Yo!” Rhysand smirks, watching the two of you closely. 

But you shake your head, not about to let him off with just that. “A little? Really? You practically narrated the whole thing—I deserve royalties.”

Azriel raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that response. “Royalties?” he repeats, half-laughing, but still avoiding eye contact.

Before he can properly respond, a security guard steps forward, tilting their head toward the door, a silent gesture that your time is up. 

You roll your eyes but shoot Azriel a teasing smile. “Guess I’m out of time for royalties. But I’ll be expecting them in the mail.”

As the security guard ushers you forward, Rhysand speaks up. “Well, nice to meet you, Sear My Skin,” he says, voice dripping with humor. 

You grin back at him, a little cheeky. “My name—”

“It’s (y/n),” Azriel interrupts, dragging a hand over his face as he speaks, his tone casual but something darker in his gaze that would’ve stopped you in your tracks if not for the man guiding you away.

You blink at him, and can’t help the smile blooming on your face. He remembered you. Really remembered you. 

Just as you’re about to take another step toward the exit, Cassian shouts from behind you, “Wait, wait, wait!” His voice is a mix of urgency and excitement. 

You turn around, confused, as Cassian's already talking to someone behind the merch table. The team member nods, already moving to grab something and hand it over to you. Cassian looks at you with that mischievous grin you’re so used to seeing on video. “We’ll set you up for the show. Don’t leave without saying hi to us again, yeah?”

You look at the woman heading your way and take the slip she hands you, your heart stopping when you read the words Backstage Pass. You’re not sure what’s happening, but the thrill of it courses through you. “Uh—Yeah, thank you?”

“Anytime, princess,” Cassian says with a wink, leaning back in his chair as he makes a show of lounging. 

You glance at Azriel one last time before being nudged along by the guard. He looks back at you for a moment, unreadable as ever, but there’s something in his eyes. But he says nothing, and it’s enough to make your chest tighten, a mix of anticipation and confusion bubbling in your stomach. 

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

That fucking bike. It’s haunting him, isn’t it.

The bike is a symbol of his disappearance, he was riding it when he went missing.

What other times do we see him riding the bike? In s2 none, yet it’s still on the poster. In s3 after the rain fight, once, also in the poster, and in s4 none, yet it’s still in the poster. That means it’s important, that means it means something. Oh and also we see a bike in Lonnie’s house, child-sized, not suspicious at all.

The bike is, to him, a representation of the trauma the upside down left on him, and to others, the symbol of his absence, his disappearance.

When hopper finds his bike he realizes something wrong is going on, his disappearance is not longer Joyce worrying to much but something serious, “a bike like this is like a Cadillac to these kids. Doesn't make sense he'd leave it out here. He'd walk it home. He was in hurry.” At Lonnie’s house, there’s a bike, a bike in between Jonathan and Lonnie. Why is Jonathan there in the first place? Why is Jonathan talking to Lonnie, who is the (unknowing) creator of that situation? Will’s disappearance. That’s the whole reason Jonathan is there, and Jonathan feels Will’s absence so that’s why he goes looking.

In s2 he never rides it, not even when the rest of the party does, the show makes it clear. Unless the bike in the background is his, but even then, he’s not shown riding it.

In s3, the only moment I remember with Will riding his bike, is after the rain fight. So a scene where he’s sad. But also he lost so much of his childhood, he wants to continue it, make up for it, and his friends refuse, they insist on growing up and Will can’t keep up, he grabs his bike and destroys castle byers, destroys his childhood. Part of the reason he’s sad is definitely mike’s “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls” (although Mike didn’t mean it in a homophobic way), but I think it’s more the fact that Mike made it very clear, they’re not kids anymore, they have to grow up and get girlfriends and let dnd aside. Their friendship is no longer their priority, they’re not children. And yet will still feels like one, their friendship do is his priority and he does wanna spend time with them having fun. He lost his childhood, he wants to enjoy the rest of it while he can, but it’s over, apparently. Another thing the upside down took from him.

However here’s the interesting part, we’ve seen him riding it in s5. In a (as it seems to us rn, without context) happy moment. Will healing from his trauma?

[emsdevs]

saw you wanted luke hughes reqs, so ‼️

him coming back to your apartment after a game and just yapping to you because he needs to be close to feel better about how it went, but will never explicitly tell you that it helps him. you're just doing miscellaneous tasks, and he eventually starts whining about it, wanting to ay down and get head scratches/cuddles from you

(if this makes no sense, pretend i was never here 😭)

a/n: so so so sorry for the wait nonnie! i hope you still like it! i did in fact get carried away and wrote 1.6k words of mostly dialogue. is this a crack fic? possibly idk. anyway this was very much a lot of fun and my beautiful wonderful wife kirby helped inspire me

masterlist

Not-So-Silent Treatment

The Devils had an early game today, and although it was a Saturday, you had to this morning and couldn’t make it. That leads you to where you are now, finally home and in comfy clothes, cleaning as a way to pass the time until Luke gets home. Before you know it, you hear someone turn down the music you previously had blasting, whipping around to see who the intruder was after not hearing the door. When you turn, you’re met with your boyfriend, Luke, leaning against the doorway with a smirk on his face. He watched as you jumped, slapping your hand over your heart, hoping to somehow calm it down.

“You gotta turn the music down when you’re home alone, babe. What if I was a serial killer?” the smirk he’s still wearing tells you he’s not serious.

“Doesn’t mean you have to give me a heart attack,” you roll your eyes, walking over to give him a quick kiss. “How was the game, Lukey?”

“Oh my god. I have so much to tell you.”

“Yay! I’m gonna finish up the cleaning while you talk, okay?” you give him one last kiss before returning to your task of doing the dishes. In the background, you could hear Luke beginning his story of a crazy penalty that happened halfway through the first period. His favorite thing to do was talk. You weren’t sure why he likes to talk so much or how he always has so much to say, but it’s become sort of comforting to you. Instead of having some random song or podcast playing while you did something, you could have your boyfriend telling you everything about nothing. You suppose it’s so comforting because you enjoy hearing his voice, and it’s a nice reminder of the fact that he’s with you, even if you’re just talking on the phone while he’s on a roadie. Either way, no one will ever hear you complaining about your boyfriend’s talking habits.

Luke, on the other hand, knows exactly why he loves to talk so much. He enjoys talking in general, but when he talks to you, it’s just as comforting for him as it is for you. It’s a way for him to decompress after a long day, lay everything out, and get it off his chest. Then, he never has to think about it again. His favorite part of his day is talking to you, so he’s going to soak it up every chance he gets. Also, Luke is aware that he’s a clingy boyfriend. He’s not scared to admit that. Talking your ear off is just another way for him to feel close to you. It especially helps when he’s gone on roadies and can’t see you face-to-face. 

By the time you finish cleaning your apartment, Luke is on story number five. This one happened an hour or two before the game while the boys were messing around in the hallways, something about Luke almost getting taken out by a soccer ball while he was doing his pre-game run. You’re almost finished folding your last load of laundry when Luke starts whining behind you. 

“Baby, when are you gonna be done? You’ve been cleaning for hours,” he drags out half the words in the sentence.

“Luke, you’ve only been here one hour? Just let me finish this then I’ll come sit with you, okay?”

“Whatever,” there’s no real bite to his tone, and you know he’s just being dramatic. You finish up the last bit of your cleaning about twenty minutes later, not without some more whining on Luke’s end. Soon, you’re lying down on the couch, watching as Luke makes himself comfortable on top of you. He grunts a little bit when you don’t move, and you know that’s his way of asking you to run your fingers through his hair.

He lets out a big sigh before starting again, “So anyway…” You aren’t sure exactly how long you lay there with him, listening to him talk while you played with his hair. Soon, though, the sun has set, and you’re attempting to hold back yawns. “So Curtis decided to- oh? Are you sleepy, baby? We can go to bed.”

“Yeah, let's go to bed, hun,” the two of you make your way to your bedroom, immediately lying down and getting comfortable. Luke talked the whole way there. As you’re getting comfortable, you catch a glimpse of the time on your alarm clock. “Luke, baby, it’s after midnight… can you maybe finish your story in the morning?”

“Yeah… yeah, babe, don’t worry about it. Just don’t be mad when I forget important details,” he mumbles the last sentence before letting go of you and rolling over so that his back is facing you.

“Luke. Don’t pout. I’m just sleepy, okay?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not pouting,” you can feel him rolling his eyes even though you can’t see his face. “I’m just saying. You know I don’t remember stuff well after I’ve slept on it. All those important details will probably be gone from my mind. Oh well.” You sigh, deciding to let him pout in favor of getting some sleep. A few minutes later, he speaks up again, “Ya know, I thought you liked hearing me talk.” After getting no response, he tries again, “Dad always told me I’d never find a wife if I didn’t learn how to shut up sometimes. I guess he was right,” he let out a big sigh in between the two sentences. It goes on for you don’t even know how long after that.

“Jack and Quinn used to never let me talk. I’m starting to think you’re just like them.”

“I thought I was dating my best friend. Turns out you actually hate me.”

“There was a really funny part too. I guess you don’t want me to do my favorite thing. Make you laugh. I love your laugh, but you obviously don’t care.”

“I guess I just love you more than you love me. I would do anything for you, baby, even ruin my sleep schedule. Unlike some people.”

“I would never name names but some people like to tell me they love to hear me talk but they really only mean they like it when it’s convenient for them.”

That’s when the fake waterworks set in. Luke is a horrible fake cryer, but that doesn’t stop him. He’s slapping his hand over his mouth, shaking his shoulders, letting out the most unbelievable “boo hoo” you’ve ever heard. When he sees it’s not working, he changes his tactic again.

“Aren’t you gonna apologize? You made me cry!”

“It’s 2:00 AM, and you made me cry. Are you happy with yourself? This is the kind of relationship you want? The kind of relationship where I have to cry myself to sleep?”

“I bet if we got into an argument right now, you wouldn’t even let me plead my case. Because then I would be talking, and apparently, you don’t like that anymore.”

At this point, you know you’re not sleeping any time soon, so you let yourself answer, “Luke, you’ve been talking for the past six hours.”

He’s quick with his reply, “See! I just can’t do anything right.”

“Ya know, you always call me your baby, but is this what you would do to a baby? Let them cry themselves to sleep?”

“Yeah, Luke, it’s called self-soothing. It’s actually a really common soothing method these days.”

“Torture method, more like. Poor kids. Is this what you’re gonna do to our kids? Tell them to shut up because you aren’t in the mood for them to express their thoughts and feelings?”

“Luke, we’re both freshly twenty-one, and we aren’t having kids any time soon?”

“Oh so now you don’t see a future with me? I guess I should return the ring in my sock drawer then, huh?”

“You have a ring?” you nearly shout, shocked at his revelation.

“Nah, I just wanted you to feel bad.” You quiet down after that, relieved that you won’t have to turn him down because you’re not ready, not that he isn’t the one you want to marry. He very much is, just not right this second. The exhaustion is setting in, so you don’t say much for a while. Apparently, that makes Luke really nervous. “I’m so sorry, baby. You know I was just playing, right? I’ll buy you a ring one day. I’ll do all the research. I’ll even stalk your Pinterest if I have to. I’ll buy you the perfect ring. Then I’ll give you the perfect wedding. Then we can have the perfect kids… Do you hate me now?” You can hear how sad he is, knowing he’s probably tired, and it’s probably heightening his emotions and dramatics.

“I don’t hate you, Lukey. I could never. I’m just sleepy, baby. I need to sleep, and I think you do too. Besides, I don’t wanna get married right now anyway.”

“Oh, so you don’t wanna marry me?” it was his turn to almost shout, his dramatic side getting the better of him in his sleepy state.

Eventually, you manage to wrangle him into laying his head on your chest so you can softly drag your fingers through his curls just the way he likes. Soon, it gets him asleep, just like you knew it would. Finally, you’re able to get some much-needed sleep as well. The next morning you hear it from Luke. He won’t shut up about how he has to finish his story but can’t remember half of it because you made him sleep. He loves to get on your nerves, but you wouldn’t trade a single moment with your favorite drama queen.

taglist: @heartsforjh @alex-wotton @devilinpradaheels @juxmi @macklin-celebrini-71 @puckmedude @one-sweet-gubler

join the taglist

[rose24207]

Heyyy, i’ve got an idea for a Lando x reader fic!

Basically Lando and the reader have been friends their whole life since their parents are good friends and they go on vacations together all that shit. And the reader has had a crush on Lando for some time now and what she doesn’t know is that Lando likes her too and one night they’re celebrating midsummers (or whatever) and he tells her he likes her and they kiss and talk all night and cuddle and stuff like that, but the next day Lando is ignoring the reader and pretends like nothing happened and goes on to ignore her for like a good year or two until one night they talk and he says he’s sorry for all that and they have their happy ending. Super angsty and sad but fluff at the end!

Don’t feel obligated to write this if you don’t want to, it’s just something i came up with and could never write myself (i can’t write to save my life) but i really like your fics and thought you could!

I‘ve missed this

Summary: Lando confesses his love on midsummer night but pushes you away for years before finally apologizing and winning you back.

Genre: angst, fluff

Lando x f!reader

TW: None!

A/N: DW girl I got your back!! again sorry that you had to wait! School is kicking my ass and I’m about to crash out because of my driver license (that shit is expensive af) English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist pt. 2

The golden glow of the midsummer sun bathed the lawn in a warm, ethereal light. Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed overhead, and laughter filled the air as family and friends celebrated another year of togetherness.

You sat at the edge of the garden, the sound of the waves from the nearby lake mingling with the music. Your eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on him—Lando Norris.

He stood by the fire pit, laughing with a group of friends, the amber glow highlighting his cheekbones and the soft curls that framed his face. You’d known him your entire life, thanks to your parents’ friendship. Vacations, holidays, birthdays—he’d always been there, your constant companion.

And somewhere along the way, you’d fallen for him.

It wasn’t just his boyish charm or his crooked smile that made your heart race. It was the way he made you laugh when you wanted to cry, the way he always seemed to know what you needed without you having to say it.

But he didn’t know how you felt. And you weren’t sure he ever would.

“Why are you sitting here alone?”

His voice startled you, and you turned to see him standing there, hands shoved in his pockets. He tilted his head, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

“Just… thinking,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Thinking, huh?” He dropped down onto the grass beside you, his knee brushing yours. “Care to share?”

You hesitated, glancing down at your hands. “It’s nothing important.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on, you can tell me anything.”

You looked up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his eyes sparkled in the fading light.

“Alright,” you said, forcing a smile. “I was just thinking about how much has changed since we were kids.”

His expression softened, and he nodded. “Yeah. Feels like yesterday we were building sandcastles and arguing over who got the last popsicle.”

You laughed, the memory warming your chest. “You always took it, by the way.”

“Only because you let me,” he teased, nudging you gently.

Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The sounds of the celebration faded into the background as you both stared at the lake, its surface shimmering like molten gold.

“I’ve missed this,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet.

“Missed what?”

“Us.” He turned to you, his eyes searching yours. “It feels like we’ve both been so busy with life lately. I hate that we don’t get to spend as much time together anymore.”

Your chest tightened, his words hitting a tender spot in your heart. “Me too.”

He reached out, his hand brushing yours. The simple touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you had to fight to keep your composure.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “What is it?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to your intertwined hands. “I’ve been trying to find the right moment to say this, but… I like you, Y/N. More than a friend should.”

The world seemed to stand still, his words hanging in the air.

“You… what?” you managed to say, your voice shaking.

He smiled nervously, his fingers tightening around yours. “I like you. I have for a while now. I just—”

You didn’t let him finish. Before you could overthink it, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his.

For a moment, he froze, and you thought you’d made a terrible mistake. But then his hands cupped your face, pulling you closer as he kissed you back with a fervor that made your head spin.

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Wow,” he murmured, a soft laugh escaping him.

You smiled, your cheeks burning. “Wow.”

That night, the two of you talked for hours, sharing secrets and dreams you’d never spoken aloud. When the celebration wound down, you ended up curled in his arms under the stars, your heart feeling fuller than it had in years.

The next morning, you woke up with a smile, memories of the night replaying in your mind. You couldn’t wait to see Lando, to talk about what this meant for you both.

But when you went to find him, he was distant.

At breakfast, he barely met your gaze. Throughout the day, he kept conversations short, avoiding any moment that might leave you alone together.

By the end of the week, he was gone, leaving you with a hollow ache in your chest.

The weeks turned into months, and the months stretched into years. Lando’s career in Formula 1 took off, and you watched from afar as he became a household name.

He texted occasionally, but it was never personal. Just polite pleasantries, as if you were mere acquaintances. The memory of that midsummer night haunted you, the unanswered questions gnawing at your heart.

Why had he pulled away?

It wasn’t until two years later, during another midsummer celebration, that you saw him again.

He was standing by the same fire pit, his posture tense as he stared into the flames. Your heart ached at the sight of him, the familiar longing resurfacing like a wave crashing over you.

Before you could stop yourself, you approached him.

“Lando.”

He turned, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of you. “Y/N.”

The sound of your name on his lips sent a shiver down your spine.

“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice steadier than you felt.

He hesitated but then nodded, leading you away from the crowd to a quieter spot by the lake.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension between you was palpable, years of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your throat tightened, and you looked away. “Why, Lando? Why did you pull away? After everything that happened… I thought—”

“I was scared,” he admitted, cutting you off. “That night… it meant everything to me. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I had to lose if I screwed things up between us. You’re my best friend, Y/N. I couldn’t risk losing you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, his words both a balm and a dagger to your heart. “So you thought ignoring me for two years was the better option?”

“I thought it would be easier for both of us if I put distance between us,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “But I was wrong. God, I was so wrong.”

You wiped at your eyes, the weight of his apology sinking in. “Lando… do you have any idea how much that hurt me? How much I missed you?”

He stepped closer, his hands trembling as he reached for yours. “I missed you too. Every single day. And I hated myself for what I did. But I was stupid and scared, and I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. Despite everything, you still loved him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You closed your eyes, your tears mingling with his. “You really hurt me, Lando.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “But I swear, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

For a moment, you hesitated. But then you thought of the boy who’d been your rock for so many years, the boy who’d held your hand when you were scared and made you laugh when you wanted to cry.

“I missed you,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid you might disappear. “I missed you too.”

That night, as you sat by the lake with his arms around you, the pain of the past began to fade.

For the first time in years, you felt whole again.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris

[coffeegnomee]

genuinely i think alot of kaboodle's actions on lifesteal can be explained by her scripted lore background. the world of scripted lore is fraught with the idea that "lore" is just... being miserable. it was something that made it difficult for me to get into ksmp (though i did eventually enjoy it), because it felt just so awful all the time. pointless arguments didn't tug at my heartstrings, it made me frustrated. but that's besides the point

i think maybe one of the reasons she takes everything way harder than she should and exaggerates relationships and disagreements is perhaps because she is drawing in past experience to be a good entertainer, in the way she is familiar with. which is so fair! we are formed by our backgrounds. it does unfortunately make it difficult to watch her if you're accustomed to the more ""live action"" sort of format lifesteal is usually in, where people seperate their characters from themselves a little less. but she has a good size audience that seems to fw it, so i dunno

that's just my take on the overuse of the word "betrayal" and such

agree but disagree. yes scripted is usually just being miserable but zam is just miserable all the time and his lore actually makes sense and is very entertaining to watch and he also separates himself from his character (to a degree). but when he is miserable he is consistently miserable while also doing some fun things to distract from the misery or making some impact on the server like cleaning up spawn while being miserable to chat. kab just sits around and talks and does fuck all. sorry. hating. a lot of hating below.

and it's annoying because she is miserable but then will go be fighting her inner demons of destruction, but then won't destroy because she doesn't want to be mean and she cares so much, but then she plans to destroy anyway but then she doesn't do it and doesn't have any consistency in any motivation or characterization and she's all over the place. every hour her emotional state is different and there's absolutely no effort at a throughline and everything before is just thrown out the window.

And it pisses me off that she does come from scripting because surely her characters on ksmp had some throughline and consistency.

and yet her inconsistency on ls does make sense bc in scripted you can plan and succeed with every plan you make when you are literally scripting the outcome.

but on lifesteal you can plan for something cool and fun and it can be taken away in an instant by the very same people you were trying to impress and that is hard and will send anyone into being tilted.

and trying to decide how to react to that is wildly difficult and i dont really envy them having to figure out what to do, but i do wish she would DO something. but that's also unfair because she is doing something, she's rebuilding. but while rebuilding she's going between wanting 4c to help her while also trying to convince him to betray his team while also trying to convince him to give her a heart without a fight while also planning to kill him while also reminding herself she has to be nice to him. so she's just using him. just say it with your full chest. you never cared about him and you just want someone else to do the work to get your own selfish self-pity plan back on the server.

you want to complain and then have someone swoop in and save you. and you dont want to make any effort to actually care about that person.

it's miserably sad and annoying to watch because lifesteal is about caring about people, and she goes on and on an on about caring *so much* but she doesn't give a shit about anyone but herself. and she lies to herself and and chat and insists that she cares.

and yes that's a rather consistent characterization to through at ls!kab but damn if it doesn't read like that at all and she went from genuinely apologizing to 4c to just using him flat out and reminding herself that she needs to use him and cant just kill him.

maybe its just that she's vilely unlikable. maybe that's the point in her scripted mind. make a hatable character. and yet her actions also speak to desperately trying to make a likable character whom youre sympathetic to, she tries desperately to guilt trip and pull at the heartstings about how shes just been betrayed so many times and life is so hard for her and shes so weak and how could you be mean to someone so pathetic and wounded.

but she's not likable at all. she doesnt care about a single other soul or what they care about. the second they put a boundary up she wants to run and leave, which, fair enough, actually a cool characterization of trauma but like also so abusive-coded. but in the end she chose to not abandon bacon as far as we can tell, but i can tell you give it two seconds and that thought will come back and she'll decide to betray him anyway. because nothing is consistent and nothing she says has any long term value. she just goes on the past five minutes to decide what she will do.

she's just so fake and that fakeness can be attributed to the character, but it only feels even more fake because she insists it's a character and not her as she turns around and does something that makes more sense for her to do as herself than the character. she is being two people existing on the same account, swapping out whenever necessary. but that's stupid. take responsibility for your actions and your emotions. stop blaming others.

and yes. it all goes back to how painfully different scripted mcrp is from unscripted.

and i know for damn sure that this will not be like this next season because she will learn from this season. or she doesn't. and that's what's so frustrating. the possibility that she never learns why lifesteal is lifesteal.

the possibility that she keeps writing asshole abusive characters that just get more abusive because of her own internal mental problems that lay unresolved and shoved under the rug like they aren't part of the character even though they are part of herself. she refuses to look at herself and acts like if just just acts hard enough they won't affect anything. they effect everything. you can't run from yourself when you are making unscripted content.

and yes. i am being really mean about someone who clearly has a lot of baggage. yes i am being mean about someone who is abusive as a defense mechanism and hates boundaries because of fear of being alone and all these things that are basically the bully being bullied at home type beat.

but she embraces none of it. doesn't even see any of it. thinks she has written a cute story with kazam, a cute ship that may be a little messed up but is at it's core cute.

it's fucking abusive and shit. it makes my skin crawl. zam is screaming to be let out of it and she thinks it's sunshine and roses. she is, to use the word literally, delusional about her actions. she thinks they are one thing when they are anything besides that.

but we do have one success story. and the trend goes that every lifestealer learns what lifesteal is by their second or third season. they all eventually get it. vi chose to do a very distinct character vs streamer in s4 and he crashed and burned to a degree unfathomable. and he learned from it. and he now says that was his favorite story he ever told. he see's how he's grown as a person because of it.

there is only hope in the future when it comes to kaboodle. lifesteal genuinely changes you and makes you grow. not because you choose to grow, but because it forces it out of you.

but in this moment im just constantly a ball of rage and constantly sent into sadness every time i watch. and she keeps interacting with my mains so im not going to just miss the story, and the progression is already happening, the kablantis shock is a genuinely lifesteal trauma moment for kab and is already changing her in good ways. this is the story, this is part of watching lifesteal. the meta conflict is what makes this server painfully unique. this difficult encounter with players that piss you off. because people in life are like this. people can suck and hurt each other and don't look at their internal mental state, they shove things under the rug and think they're fine and cause sorrow and pain when life gets difficult. that's life. encountering it as story really helps understand the people around you. to be more compassionate, be able to see when theyre hurting and chose to be kind anyway. to learn how to feel the negative emotions and process them and not run from them yourself. or learn how to stick up for yourself and put up your own boundaries and learn that you can. to figure out who you are. it's the best. and the worst. and leaves me hating until i realize it is interesting even though i hate it.

[lilgarbitch]

The Voice of an Angel- Matt Dierkes

Part One

Pairing: Matt Dierkes x PornBlog!Reader

Cw: Smut, Masterbation (f and m), sappy freak!Matt

Word Count: 3.5k

Author’s Note: Doing something a little different. The story seemed to work best if I wrote time in phases, so I hope it doesn’t ruin it😬 And I couldn’t tell you where this idea came from. I honestly don’t know if I’ve ever seen someone write something like this, but I did the best I could❤️ I hope you enjoy

Tags: @xmads-omensx @dontwantthemoney @theanarchymuse95 @badomensgoodomens

Y/N | Wednesday 2:36 PM

Kicking off the floor and rolling my chair over to my computer, I plug my phone into the cord and begin transferring the audio file. I should really get a microphone for this, but I’m still somewhat new to this… Yeah, I definitely need to start doing research on vamping up my equipment.

I plug my headphones into the laptop once the file was finished so I could listen back over the audio, making sure it’s suitable to be posted. I live alone, and literally just made all of these noises out loud, but I still get a little weirded out playing it without headphones and need to be able to listen to every detail, making sure there were no weird noises in the background.

Clicking on the file, my voice starts playing through. It took some time for me to get used to hearing me say certain things and make these noises, hell, it took me a good while to even hit ‘record’ when doing this, but once I got enough praise from people online, it just became routine. 

My slightly over exaggerated moans and whimpers fill my ears, and I can’t lie, I was pleased with the quality. IPhones have good microphones. It sometimes even picked up the sound of my vibrator or how wet I was based on how close I had the mic to me, and my followers always enjoy that.

After spending about twenty minutes editing out small distracting background noises, I opened Twitter and connected the file to a post, captioning it, "You know exactly how to pull these pretty sounds from me,” before hitting post and then proceeding to do the same for my tumblr blog. 

Almost instantly, my phone starts going crazy from those who have my post notifications on, and I read every comment with a smile on my face.

It may seem weird to many people, but I truly enjoy doing this. I get to turn a common activity into a side hustle, and it pleases both guys and girls when they find my pages. And most of them are the sweetest when they reply. They’re usually all horny replies, but unless I post something that instigates them to degrade me, they always choose to be super sweet.

I scroll through some replies and the likes from my followers, and even some who always come back but choose not to follow me because they don’t want others to know. It was nice seeing repeated faces. Like I created a space for them to feel safe to be open about something so lewd. 

That’s when I got a notification from my Cash App that’s linked to my accounts, causing a small smile to form on my face when reading the name. ThotxPleaser had been a loyal follower for a while now. He’s following my Twitter, Tumblr, subscribed to my Patreon, and here he is again, sending me a gift. 

ThotxPleaser- $250

Sounded beautiful as always, Angel❤️ 

I really wished that his gift had caused a bigger smile, but I knew this anonymous person’s actions too well by now. He usually gave me a sweet nickname, but today he just used my pseudonym, Angel, and it wouldn’t be worrying, if he also didn’t send the donation right after I posted, again. He always tried to send appreciation ‘when he had the chance,’ even commenting that he was too busy sometimes and felt bad for seeing my posts so late, so it was abnormal that he was so on top of it for the third post in a row, almost as if he was waiting for my posts as a pick-me-up. I know that was cocky thinking, but he’s said before that my posts have made his day, giving me a grateful gift to prove it, so it wasn’t that far off of an assumption. I just hope he’s doing okay.

Matt | Wednesday 2:59 PM

I crash into my bed with a groan. We’re getting everything situated for tour next week and I’ve been working my ass off doing almost all the work. The boys and our team do the best that they can, but I’m the one they run to when problems surface, and with the dates coming faster and faster, everyone is running rampant with anxiety and constantly on my ass needing help with the most obvious things. I know we’re all stressed but every part of my job other than actually getting them on that tour bus is done. 

I told them all to give me at least the rest of the day off to unwind. Any problems that come to head today can easily be fixed tomorrow. I warned them that I was switching my phone to Do Not Disturb so even if they tried to contact me, I won’t answer.

It was a lie, though. I would never actually do that to them and hopefully they know that. I just need them to understand and leave me be for at least a few hours before I burn out. And, of course, almost right as I thought that, my phone went off. 

With a loud groan, I turned my phone over and glared at it, trying to read what the hell the problem was now, but then my heart skipped as I read the notification. 

Angel💋 

You know exactly how to pull these pretty sounds from me

My breath hitched as I read it and I instantly felt blood rush to my other head. This had to mean that she finally posted a new audio clip. I instantly clicked on it, desperately needing to hear her to put me in a better mood. My fingers eagerly tap at the back of my phone as it takes a minute to load up Twitter, but when it finally does, I see the audio file and click ‘play’. 

I shove my face into my pillow and place my phone next to my head as I let her voice and moans fill my ears. As the audio plays, I can feel myself getting harder. But I am too fucking tired to do anything about that right now. I truly just needed to hear her sweet voice in a time like this. I could listen to her for hours. It doesn’t matter if it’s her talking dirty or making these sweet noises. Hell, she could start a damn podcast and talk about the weather and it would still make my day. Something about her voice always brought me out of any rut that I’m in. 

The audio ends and I finally look back at my phone. I debated on playing it again, just to hear her, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to show her some gratitude and appreciation. 

I open up Cash App, using the account that wasn’t under my real name, and send her a simple note. I didn’t have enough energy to put too much thought into it, but she deserved something after boosting my mood. After I sent it, I closed my phone and shoved my face back into my pillow, this time with a small smile. Within minutes, I was out like a light, dreaming of what she could possibly look like, and having a chance to actually have her speak to me, just to be able to hear more of her voice. 

Y/N | Saturday 6:23 PM

It’s been a few days since the last donation from ThotxPleaser. I try to post a few suggestive posts a day if I’m in the mood, and every single one was instantly liked by him, but that was it. No flirty comments, just what seemed like he was already on his phone when I posted and a simple like. I know I shouldn’t worry about a random follower, but he has always been so sweet and supportive. Plus, as creepy as it may seem, I end up paying close attention to my supporters, and it was obvious that he was acting different than usual. 

I tried pushing the worry out of my mind the best I could, not needing to stress over a damn audio blog supporter, but I couldn’t help the fact that my mind wandered, thinking of what could possibly be happening in his life that he was too busy to show his usual appreciation, but still forcing him to be one of the first likes on every single post, audio or not. What could he possibly be dealing with that made him seem like he was so busy that he barely had time to do much, yet he still went out of his way to give me a hint of support? Fuck, I’m sounding insane. Am I overthinking this so much that I truly believe this man was using my moaning audios and lewd posts as his main form of serotonin? God, I need to fix my ego. He’s probably just losing interest and slowly weaning me off his attention…Okay, Y/N, he’s a fucking follower. He doesn’t care about ghosting you. You’ve never even spoken. Why are you so obsessed anyway?

I let out a groan, getting annoyed with my own thoughts. I realized that I was staring at the ceiling, worrying about someone I don't even know, so I quickly sat up and grabbed my phone, hoping that doom scrolling could help distract me…and make me feel less embarrassed.

I open Instagram and my eyes instantly land on the story bar. I scroll through the orange and green circles, hoping to find someone interesting, when I finally do. Matt Dierkes had a new story. I click on it and instantly giggle, seeing that, of course, it was another raccoon meme. Since this was my personal account, I liked his story and went on with doom scrolling.

After seeing only reposted memes and people living their best life, I realized this wasn’t going to give me the entertainment I needed. I close the app and look at my others, before opening Tumblr. Matt was still on my mind. I always found him so cute. I’ve enjoyed Bad Omens’ music for a while now, and definitely found the boys attractive, but something about their tour manager had always caught my eye. He said whatever he wanted and enjoyed things without judgment. I really liked how unique and undeniably him he let himself be.

I try to scroll through my feed, but with him still in my mind, my fingers trailed over to the search bar and I found myself looking up another fanfiction about him. 

After a few…okay maybe a little too many one shots and short stories since I was free tonight, I landed a quite…spicy story, leading me to decide this was the perfect time to create more content. 

With the story playing in my mind like a movie, I set my phone up and hit record. I was too lazy to grab a toy, and was definitely worked up enough that I could easily get this done manual style. Lying back, I slipped my hand down my pants with his face flashing behind my eyes. In the story, he had a little more dominant energy, so I began imagining him taking what he wanted.

My breath picked up as I felt his hands sliding up my thighs, using enough pressure to keep them held to the sides. He had this almost hungry look on his face as I stared down at him. His fingers finally reached the hem of my panties before powerfully yet gracefully sliding them down, like he was teasing me, making me wait. 

I could feel his warm calloused fingers grazing over the softness of my thighs as they trailed towards my core. I began to squirm in anticipation, desperately wanting to grab them and bring them where I needed him most, but I knew if I did, he’d find a way to punish me. 

Finally his hand reached the apex of my thighs and I gasped as he grazed his fingers through my folds. 

I’m getting too desperate, I have to get this little fantasy sped up. I start circling my clit and letting out a soft whine. 

His tongue passes through my slit before finally focusing on the bundle of nerves. My breath picks up as he perfectly laps at it, occasionally circling it with his tongue. As he adds more pressure, I can feel myself getting closer. I look down and see his face between my thighs, causing a small gasp to escape my lips. Once our eyes meet, I let out a breathy moan as my head falls back against the pillow. I can’t control the noises leaving me, the sound of his tongue lapping at my wet core and the image burned into my mind of him staring up at me causing the pleasure to intensify.

As I reached my peak, my mind overwhelmed with ecstasy, I forgot where I was. 

“Ma-“ I let out, before quickly gasping and covering my mouth, hoping I could play that off as a gasp of pleasure and not shock at me almost ruining my audio by saying his name. After catching my breath, I stop the recording and sit there. 

Fuck.

Matt | Saturday 9:47 PM

The guys and I were hanging out at Noah and Jesse’s house, telling ourselves that we needed a night off to relax and leave the stress behind for a few hours. Everyone’s mostly packed and we have at least tonight to just forget about everything, so they were all a few beers and shots in and it was getting kind of rowdy. I made sure to keep my eye on everyone to make sure they didn’t do something stupid. 

I was sitting on the couch as the rest of them either destroyed the kitchen, trying to drunkenly make snacks, or hung out in the backyard, just chatting or getting excited over revisiting places on the tour they enjoyed. I was silently watching them all, using this time to try and force some relaxation into my mind, knowing we agreed that we could take a break from work. I know I could have done this at home, but doing anything with these boys was better than doing it alone, since I could always end up hunched over in laughter at any moment.

I stare off, listening to them loudly argue over which cheese to put in a grilled cheese, and just let my mind wander over how life has been going lately. Thinking about what still needs to be done and what fun things I could try to do before I was slaving away for 3 months on tour, since even when I tried my hardest, I couldn’t push the thought of work away. But then I was pulled out of my thoughts by my phone vibrating in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw that Angel had posted a new audio. God, this is exactly what I needed right now. A small smile formed on my lips, but I quickly went back to a straight face, not wanting anyone to see and question who made me smile or find out that it was a goddamn porn blog. 

I glanced around the room, making sure that everyone’s attention was occupied, before sneaking my way off to the bathroom. I close and lock the door behind me and pull out my Airpods. I know the house was loud, but the thought of them hearing her voice coming from the bathroom was not something I wanted to deal with. 

I put an Airpod in and click on the notification. Once it loaded, I pressed play on the audio. It was a short one, but it was definitely enough to put me in a better mood. Instantly, her sweet sounds filled my ear. Soft airy moans played through my Airpod and I could feel myself growing in my pants. I debated whether it was weirder to jerk off in their bathroom or to leave the bathroom with a hard on, and decided on the latter. 

As her voice played through my headphones like a beautiful melody, I reached my hands down and pulled the waistbands of my shorts and boxers down, letting my growing cock spring free. I turned my hat around, pushing my hair back to keep it out of my face as I leaned my hips against the sink and gripping the edge with one hand. I wrapped my other hand around the base and firmly gripped it. 

She let out soft whimpers with an occasional ‘Fuck’ and I leaned down and let a trail of spit reach my tip, biting back a groan as I collected it and used it to slicken my movements. It was just the perfect amount of lubrication to move at the pace I needed without making any noise. 

I brought my shirt to my teeth and closed my eyes, biting down as I fought back the noises collecting in my throat. I was close to biting through my lip and I didn’t need to get a noticeable mess on my nice tee. Explaining the teeth marks in the fabric would be easy, if their drunken asses even noticed. Her breath picked up, a telltale sign she was close, and that itself caused a tightening in my stomach. I listened to her moans getting higher and higher, subconsciously pumping myself to the beats of her breath. But then, she let out a moan I had never heard before. They were usually whiney and breathless, but this time she used her full chest voice, moaning out a ‘Maa-‘ before gasping and finally letting out her usual whiney sinful moan as she came. 

Something in my brain took that personal. It sounded too close to her moaning my name for me to prepare for the instant rush of pleasure taking over my body. I quickly cupped a hand over my tip as my eyes rolled back, my mind replaying that single sinful syllable over and over as I spilled into my fist. 

I probably bit a hole in my shirt with how hard my teeth clenched as I forced the deep loud moan from coming out. But I didn’t care. I had to hold my weight up with the sink behind me and force myself to catch my breath through my nose as the pleasure in my stomach lasted longer than it ever has before. 

After a few moments, the feeling of my cum threatening to drip from my hand caused me to finally open my eyes and drop my shirt from my teeth as I spun around and turned on the sink. I quickly washed all the evidence down the sink and tucked myself back into my pants before looking up.

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, grimacing in post-nut clarity as it hit me how gross what I just did was. Not me jerking off to her, that was normal, but the fact that I had gotten so obsessed that I couldn’t wait until I got home to listen and react. 

I hung my head as I thought about how the fuck I was supposed to get through tour if I couldn’t stop myself from listening to her audios, but also definitely wouldn’t have a way to hide my reaction from them. I just wish I could hear her in any way other than something so erotic. That could hold me over. As long as I didn’t pavlov myself into getting hard just at the sound of her. 

I reach up and fix my cap before grabbing my phone and sending her a like and a comment. 

ThotxPleaser- Could never find a better way to make my day, beautiful. 

I softly laughed at myself as I sent it. I knew I was a freak. She probably thought I was a creep the way it looks like I stalk her with how fast I respond to her posts. But I couldn’t care less. She brought me a happiness I couldn’t explain. It wasn’t the context of her posts. It was her. And I had to show my appreciation, even if I just looked like one of many horndogs in her comments and donations. 

Wait…That was it. 

I fumble with my phone to open up Cashapp, before realizing how long I’ve been in the bathroom. I make my way back to the living room as I think of the perfect way to ask. Sitting down, I debate on the most convincing price to get her to even think of helping me out here. Tour starts Tuesday and with us all together, missing a chunk of change won’t be a problem. I go back and forth in my thoughts for a few minutes, writing and rewriting my message until I think it’s perfect. Finally, I send it and cross my fingers. 

ThotxPleaser- $1,000

All I want is to hear your voice more. Talk about your day, how the weather is treating you, or rant about a TV show you’re watching. I’d listen to you forever. All I ask is if you’d be willing to send me voice memos here and there to get me through my days. Name your price, sunshine. 

TO BE CONTINUED

[respectthepetty]

Background Noise - Futtara Doshaburi

I liked that right after returning the umbrellas to the restaurant, the guys had to take refuge in a nearby building to escape from the unexpected rain.

And it gave a peak into their reactions when the unexpected happens. Hagiwara Kazuakia laughs. He finds joy in the break of monotony, but Nakarai Sei pauses and assesses.

Then he explores.

And while he reflects on the pieces and his placement with them,

Hagiwara Kazuakia gets far more personal with the art and inserts his physical presence in the art.

This was also seen in their responses to the "two types of women" question since Hagiwara Kazuakia, who is sexually frustrated with his girlfriend, saw women as objects to be fucked or not fucked, and Nakarai Sei, who is sexually attracted to men, viewed women as an aesthetic who either put on makeup in front of others or didn't.

The building they enter is an actual gallery, and a majority of the artwork is Akio Omori's, but without knowing the artist's intentions, his artwork seems to rest in a space of spirituality and the feminine, which is an interesting theme for these two to journey through together.

The flowers, which are viewed as feminine object, have some spiritual correlation. The translation of the first dark flower, which could be incorrect, is "Devil's Thoughts" and it seems to have dragon-like wings and thorns. The second red flower with its gold butterfly-like wings that Nakarai Sei closely looked at was titled "Angel's Face," so we have the abstract (thought) and the physical (face), but also good and evil.

And this dichotomy runs throughout the pieces, yet it's more of a question of the complexity of two supposedly different ideas since both flowers are still beautiful and tempting, which we also see with the celestial bodies.

Red is normally the color associated with the devil and aggression. But also love, and the red figure with its gold wings has the halo. It's the angel.

While the blue and white figure, which are normally colors associated with purity and heaven, has the dragon wings and the spiked tail. It is the devil.

Then we come to the grand piece that resides in another space separated from the rest.

As a Catholic, I immediately saw La Virgen.

But I also noted the shaped of the statue because it looks like a vulva.

And it wouldn't be the first time I saw a vulva in art when that was never the artist's intention (hello, Georgia O'Keeffe, we meet again!), but I do think it adds to the way each man reacts to the piece since they have already walked through a room that has planted the foundation for complex thought since the piece is about a devout woman who ascends to heaven while her chest is partially exposed. The piece is about heaven/God/good, and although the bare chest isn't sexual, there is something about the shape of the statue and the exposure that makes it feel a little tempting, like the flowers.

Hagiwara Kazuakia, the one who enjoys the unexpected, the one who gets closer to the art, the one who inserts himself into the art, sees it as a female statue that reminds him of his sexual frustrations. But Nakarai Sei, the one who pauses and reflects, the one who keeps his distance, the one who thinks about himself in relation to the art, sees it as a wooden statue which, although exposed, can't decide if the statue is obscene or sad. It's the "two type of women" question all over again.

Because just like Fujisawa Kazuaki stated, "no matter what I pick, it will apply to men too. Traits that befit women or men don't really exist," so the men aren't simply looking at art that is nestled in the complex relationship between the feminine and spiritual, but they are examining themselves.

Then the rain stops.

In their relationships, the men dream about the past and the future, but only question the present with each other. Hagiwara Kazuakia hates that he can hear the rain in his apartment because it reminds him of what he once had with his girlfriend. He is stuck in the same cycle of replaying the past.

Nakarai Sei hates that he cannot hear the ran in his apartment because it reminds him of how alone he is and what he will never have. He is stuck in a prison he refuses to leave.

And yet Nakarai Sei stood in the rain outside of the restaurant and Hagiwara Kazuakia tried to provide him shelter from the rain. The past and future collided in the present.

So when they arrived on the gallery's steps after returning the umbrellas, Nakarai Sei went inside to hide from the rain, and Hagiwara Kazuakia laughed as he enjoyed the surprise of it.

The art is them. Neither is simply one thing. They are complex. But they also a pair. We have the angel with its spiked tail and the devil with the halo. We have the winged flowers. We have a man who hates the rain yet laughs when it does rain and one who misses the rain yet hides when it does rain. And I think that is why they have this yin and yang quality to them. They see things differently, yet neither is fully right or wrong. They are the celestial figures. They are the statue. They are frustration and sadness. But they need the other one so they can understand that.

They are getting to know themselves by understanding the other. They want BOTH intimacy and sex, but they are figuring that out as they ask more questions of the other since for the first time they are focusing on the present, so their responses to finding out that their pen pal is right next to them after Hagiwara Kazuakia sends the email about the rain noise app is the same response they had when it rained. Nakarai Sei sits in it and thinks it over, and Hagiwara Kazuakia laughs. Because it's the unexpected.

And for two men who keep going through the motions of what is expected of them, they need the other one to shake up their expectations of what is right, what is good, what it is be a man

And what it means to love.

[linka-from-captain-planet]

hello manmancers, I come bearing a wholehearted plea from the small but noble sapphic womanmancer part of fandom

please stop tagging minor F/F ships in the Relationships field of your M/M and M/F works on AO3

if you could not delete everything else in the story and still have a comprehensible standalone narrative about the F/F ship, then the F/F ship does not need to be tagged because the fic is not about that ship

and we who visit the tags of F/F ships tags are looking for content that is about that ship... which is hard enough to find without having to dig through the results

as of making this post, this is the content disparity on AO3, in the Veilguard category, if you filter to the relationship category and exclude the other two main ones (e.g. below is the count of M/F ships with M/M and F/F excluded from results):

3,158 works tagged as M/F

1,347 works tagged as M/M

339 works tagged as F/F

That's 1/4 to 1/10 as much F/F-centric content as M/M and M/F!

no, over-tagging doesn't increase the amount of F/F content because it's not F/F content. it's the equivalent of Disney having 2 women holding hands in the background of a shot and calling it lesbian rep

no, you are not improving "reach" by tagging every ship (or character) that's so much as mentioned - you certainly won't gain any meaningful interaction, as fans of the mistagged ship will at best run up your hit count without leaving kudos, writing comments, or sharing

yes, over-tagging is a problem that affects all ships. everyone should follow the above guidelines. this post is specifically about the plight of F/F ship tagging on AO3, because there is so little F/F content that the dilution of over-tagging makes it especially pronounced

if you would like to let readers know what the tertiary ships are in case they care, you can put them in the other freetext tags, for example from one of my fics:

I did not use the Ashur/Tarquin relationship tag because the fic is not about Ashur/Tarquin - if I removed the part of the work that isn't about them, it would not leave them with a comprehensible standalone narrative of their own - and people who visit that tag are looking for content that is about them.

please, continue to write your fics and enjoy your ships - but just be cognizant about the fact that what's side content to you is everything to someone else

[w1w2]

From Shadows to Sunlight

Hwang Yeji x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 9k

Synopsis: As Y/N’s world begins to fall apart, she forced herself to make hard decisions while struggling to navigate life’s challenges.

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The kitchen was alive with chaos. Pots clanged, utensils cluttered, and the aroma of something distinctly burnt wafted through the air. Yeji stood at the stove, furiously waving a towel at the smoke detector that blared overhead. Her apron was speckled with flour, and a determined pout pressed her lips together. Y/N leaned against the counter, her arms crossed and a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Yeji, I think the pasta is supposed to boil, not incinerate," Y/N teased, her voice lilting with laughter.

"Hey! I’ve got this," Yeji shot back, glancing over her shoulder with mock indignation. Her eyes flashed with determination, but the blackened edges of the pan told a different story.

Y/N picked up her phone and snapped a quick photo of Yeji’s disaster zone. "This is going straight to the group chat. ‘Yeji’s Kitchen Nightmares.’"

Yeji turned, waving a sauce-covered wooden spoon at Y/N. "Delete that! Or else no burnt pasta for you."

Laughing, Y/N dodged out of reach, her bright smile lighting up the room. "Oh no, how will I survive without your gourmet creations?"

Despite the teasing, Y/N moved to help. She grabbed the nearly scorched pan and dumped its contents into the sink, turning on the faucet to quell the smoke. Yeji groaned, leaning against the counter and smearing flour across her forehead as she wiped away sweat.

"Why am I like this?" Yeji muttered, her tone half-joking but tinged with genuine frustration.

Y/N placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Because you’re passionate and refuse to give up. Even when the universe tells you to just order takeout."

Yeji’s pout softened into a sheepish smile. "Takeout it is, then."

They ended up sprawled on the living room floor, surrounded by takeout containers and soda cans. The TV flickered with the glow of a rom-com they half-watched, both too engrossed in their playful banter to follow the plot. Y/N reached over and stole a bite from Yeji’s noodles, earning a dramatic gasp of betrayal.

"Y/N! That was my favorite piece!"

"It all tastes the same," Y/N replied, smirking. "Besides, you owe me for that near-death experience in the kitchen."

Yeji leaned in, her eyes narrowing mischievously. "Oh, it’s war now."

She lunged, chopsticks aimed to snatch a dumpling from Y/N’s plate, but Y/N was quicker. The two dissolved into laughter, their playful tussle spilling soy sauce onto the rug. It didn’t matter. In that moment, nothing could overshadow the joy they felt in each other’s company.

The evening ebbed into quiet comfort. Y/N’s head rested on Yeji’s shoulder as they sat together on the couch. Yeji’s fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on Y/N’s arm, their unspoken bond evident in the way they fit together. Neither had said “I love you” yet, but their actions spoke louder than words. The television droned on in the background, but neither paid attention, too caught up in the quiet peace of being together.

Y/N let her eyes close for a moment, soaking in the warmth of Yeji’s presence. She felt safe, as if nothing in the world could touch her as long as Yeji was by her side. Yeji turned her head slightly, her lips brushing Y/N’s hair as she murmured softly, “You know, I could stay like this forever.”

Before Y/N could respond, her phone buzzed on the coffee table, jolting her from the moment. She glanced at the screen and saw her mother’s name.

“I’ll be right back,” she murmured, gently untangling herself from Yeji and placing a light kiss on her forehead. Yeji nodded, watching her leave with a curious tilt of her head.

In the bedroom, Y/N shut the door and answered the call. Her mother’s voice came through immediately, strained and trembling. "Y/N, we… we need help. The bank… they’re threatening to take the house if we don’t pay soon."

Y/N’s heart sank. "What? Mom, what happened?"

Her mother explained in rushed, panicked tones. A failed business venture had drained their savings, and mounting debts had spiraled out of control. Collectors were calling daily, and the family’s financial future hung by a thread. Each word cut deeper, the enormity of the situation hitting Y/N like a wave.

"I’ll figure something out," Y/N said firmly, though her voice wavered. She gripped the phone tightly, as if the physical act could keep her mother from hearing the fear creeping into her tone. "Don’t worry, Mom. I’ve got this."

When the call ended, Y/N remained still, leaning against the wall. Her cheerful facade crumbled as she clutched her phone to her chest. The weight of her family’s crisis pressed down on her, suffocating and inescapable. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, willing herself to stay strong. She couldn’t fall apart. Not now.

After a few moments, she squared her shoulders and forced a smile back onto her face. Rejoining Yeji in the living room, she sank onto the couch beside her.

“Everything okay?” Yeji asked, her almond eyes filled with concern. She tucked a strand of Y/N’s hair behind her ear, her touch gentle.

Y/N plastered on a smile. "Yeah, just my mom checking in. Nothing serious."

Yeji studied her for a moment longer, her gaze searching, but she didn’t press. She simply rested her hand on Y/N’s, squeezing lightly. The gesture should have brought Y/N comfort, but it only deepened the ache in her chest.

That night, as Yeji drifted off to sleep beside her, Y/N stared at the ceiling. For Yeji’s sake, she had to pretend everything was fine, even if it tore her apart inside.

The days that followed were different. Y/N’s usual bubbly energy gave way to quiet distraction, like a light dimming slowly over time. The spark in her eyes that once shone so brightly seemed muted, her laughter more subdued. It wasn’t obvious to anyone who didn’t know her well, but Yeji noticed. She always noticed.

Y/N started spacing out during conversations, her gaze fixed somewhere far away, as if the weight of unseen worries had pulled her into another world. When Yeji tried to engage her, the replies came slower, her words peppered with half-hearted chuckles and vague reassurances.

One evening, they sat on the couch, sharing what was meant to be a peaceful moment. The TV murmured in the background, but neither was watching. Yeji glanced at Y/N, her almond eyes scanning the face she adored. There was a tightness in Y/N’s jaw, a faint crease between her brows as though she was carrying something too heavy to let go of.

“Are you sure everything’s okay?” Yeji asked softly, her voice laced with gentle concern. She turned toward Y/N, folding one leg beneath her and giving her full attention.

“I’m fine,” Y/N replied quickly, too quickly. Her tone was light, but the edges of her smile trembled. “Just work stuff. You know how it is.” She waved a hand dismissively, avoiding Yeji’s gaze.

Yeji studied her, her expression thoughtful and searching. She wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t want to push too hard, not yet. Instead, she reached over and squeezed Y/N’s hand, offering quiet support. “You can talk to me, you know. About anything.”

Y/N’s heart squeezed painfully in her chest. She wanted nothing more than to pour everything out, every fear, every sleepless night, but the words stayed locked inside. She forced another smile, the gratitude genuine even if her expression didn’t fully reach her eyes. “I know. Thank you.”

But Yeji’s worry lingered, settling in her chest like a stone.

Over the next few days, Yeji began noticing the little things. Y/N’s playful teasing, the way she used to nudge Yeji’s shoulder or steal a bite of her food, had grown rarer. Her bright, affectionate energy felt muted, like the sun hidden behind clouds. Even her hugs, once warm and full of life, seemed restrained, as though she was holding something back.

At first, Yeji chalked it up to stress, but it became harder to ignore the growing distance between them. One evening, as they sat eating dinner together, Y/N barely touched her food, pushing it around her plate with a fork.

“Y/N,” Yeji started, her voice hesitant, “you’re not yourself lately. You’re… quieter. Distant. Did I do something wrong?”

Y/N’s eyes widened, panic flashing across her face. She reached for Yeji’s hand, shaking her head emphatically. “No! Yeji, of course not. You’re perfect. It’s just… life, you know? Things are a little overwhelming right now. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

The sincerity in her voice was real, but Yeji couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the story. She held Y/N’s gaze for a moment longer before nodding, though her unease lingered.

That night, as they lay in bed, Yeji noticed Y/N’s breathing was uneven. She turned over to see Y/N staring at the ceiling, her expression tense.

“Can’t sleep?” Yeji whispered, brushing her hand gently along Y/N’s arm.

Y/N startled slightly but quickly composed herself. “Just thinking,” she murmured.

“About what?” Yeji asked, her tone soft and inviting.

“Nothing important,” Y/N replied after a moment, her voice barely above a whisper. She turned toward Yeji and kissed her forehead. “Go to sleep, Yeji. I’m okay.”

Yeji wanted to believe her, but as she drifted off, she couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that something was slipping away between them.

Meanwhile, Y/N sat up, pulling the blanket around herself as the weight of her family’s financial troubles pressed down like an iron cage. Tears pricked her eyes, but she wiped them away quickly. For Yeji’s sake, she couldn’t break. Not yet.

Few days later Y/N paced the length of her small apartment, her footsteps echoing faintly against the hardwood floor. Her mind raced, thoughts colliding like crashing waves. She couldn’t unhear her parents’ voices from the earlier phone call, the tremble in her mother’s tone as she begged for time they didn’t have.

“The bank isn’t waiting anymore, Y/N. If we don’t pay by next month, they’ll take everything. I don’t know what to do,” her mother had said, her words heavy with despair.

Her father’s voice had been quieter but no less desperate. “We hate asking you for help, but we don’t have anyone else.”

The weight of their words pressed down on her now, suffocating and inescapable. Her chest tightened as she replayed the conversation, the enormity of their situation looming over her like a storm cloud.

There was no relief in sight. No miracle solution. She’d gone over the numbers a hundred times, scoured job boards, researched financial assistance programs, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

Her heart clenched painfully as her thoughts drifted to Yeji. Sweet, wonderful Yeji, who had been nothing but supportive and loving. Yeji, who deserved someone who could give her everything, not someone drowning in personal burdens.

Y/N’s stomach churned as she thought about what she was about to do. She pressed a hand to her chest, as if trying to hold herself together, as if willing her heart to stop breaking. But it was no use.

She glanced toward the couch, where Yeji had sat just the night before, her eyes filled with concern as she asked, “Are you happy?” The memory twisted the knife in Y/N’s chest.

How could she ever make Yeji understand? That this wasn’t about love, it was about protecting her.

Y/N crossed the room and sat down at her small desk, pulling out an old notebook. The pages were filled with doodles and random notes, remnants of brighter days. She flipped to a blank page and stared at it for a long moment, the pen in her hand trembling.

She started writing, the words jagged and uneven as they poured out of her.

She needs to hate me. It’s the only way.

Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but she forced herself to keep going, jotting down half-formed ideas. She couldn’t simply ghost Yeji, that would only hurt her more. It had to be clean. Final. No room for reconciliation, no lingering doubts.

But how? How could she push away the one person who had always been her light, her safe haven? The thought of Yeji’s smile fading, of her warmth turning cold, made Y/N’s chest ache. She paused, the pen hovering over the page, and buried her face in her hands.

“You can do this,” she whispered to herself, her voice breaking. “You have to.”

Hours passed as she agonized over her plan. She scribbled ideas and crossed them out, each one feeling crueler than the last. Insults? Too transparent. A fake betrayal? Too complicated. No, this had to be simple and believable.

Finally, she decided. A clean break. She would tell Yeji she couldn’t love her. That she’d tried, but her heart simply wouldn’t allow it.

Y/N’s stomach churned as she wrote down the words she would say, each one slicing through her like a blade. When she was done, she stared at the page, her vision blurry with tears.

“I can’t love you. I’ve tried, Yeji, but I can’t.”

The lie sat heavy on the paper, stark and final. She hated it. Hated herself for even thinking about it. But she knew it was the only way.

She sat back in her chair, her head falling into her hands. Her shoulders shook as silent sobs wracked her body. She cried for the love she was about to lose, for the future she had dreamed of but could no longer have.

When the tears finally stopped, she wiped her face and squared her shoulders. She had no choice. Yeji deserved to be free, to find someone who could love her fully without reservation.

Standing up, Y/N glanced at her reflection in the window. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed, but there was a steely resolve in her gaze.

“This is the right thing to do,” she whispered, as if saying it out loud would make it hurt less.

But as she turned off the lights and climbed into bed, her chest felt hollow. She lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing with what-ifs and maybes.

Morning came too soon, and with it, the unbearable reality of what she had to do.

Y/N invited Yeji over the following evening, texting her with a simple, “Can we talk?” The message was short, neutral on the surface, but her hands trembled as she typed it. Her heart felt heavy, every beat a painful reminder of what she was about to do.

She stared at the screen for a moment after sending it, wondering if she could still take it all back. But the knot in her chest tightened, and she reminded herself why this was necessary. This was for Yeji.

When Yeji arrived, she was dressed in a loose sweater and jeans, her casual outfit doing little to hide her natural beauty. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw Y/N, a warm smile spreading across her face.

“Hey,” Yeji greeted, her voice full of affection as she leaned in for a hug.

Y/N stepped back, avoiding Yeji’s embrace. The small gesture was enough to make Yeji pause, her smile faltering slightly.

“Hey,” Y/N replied, her voice tight, the word catching in her throat. “Come in.”

Yeji frowned slightly but didn’t comment. She stepped inside, taking a moment to glance around the apartment. It was unusually tidy, too tidy. The cushions on the couch were perfectly arranged, the countertops wiped clean, and the faint scent of lavender lingered in the air.

“Everything okay?” Yeji asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and concern. She turned back to Y/N, her eyes searching for answers. “You sounded a bit off earlier.”

Y/N couldn’t meet her gaze. Instead, she busied herself with small, pointless tasks, adjusting a picture frame on the counter, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles on her shirt. She felt Yeji’s gaze on her, steady and patient, as if waiting for her to gather the courage to speak.

Finally, Y/N turned to face her, forcing herself to keep her expression blank. “Yeji, we need to talk.”

Yeji tilted her head slightly, her smile dimming. “What’s going on?”

Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage, each beat a desperate plea to stop, to rethink. But it was too late now.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” she began, her voice steady but cold. “And I realized… this isn’t working for me anymore.”

The words felt foreign, like they didn’t belong to her. They tasted bitter on her tongue, and she had to clench her fists to keep from trembling.

Yeji’s smile vanished completely, replaced by a look of confusion. “What?” she asked softly, her voice barely audible.

“I’ve tried, Yeji,” Y/N continued, forcing herself to hold Yeji’s gaze. Her chest ached with every word, but she didn’t let it show. “I’ve tried to love you. But I can’t.”

Yeji stepped closer, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for Y/N. “What are you talking about? Everything’s been fine… hasn’t it? Did I do something wrong?”

Y/N flinched at the raw vulnerability in Yeji’s voice. She wanted so badly to close the distance between them, to take Yeji’s hands in hers and tell her the truth. But she couldn’t. Not if she wanted Yeji to move on.

“No,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “It’s not about you, Yeji. It’s me. I just… I don’t think I can give you what you deserve.”

“You’re lying,” Yeji said, her voice trembling. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and she stepped closer again, refusing to back down. “I know you, Y/N. I know something’s been bothering you. Just tell me what it is. We can work through it together.”

Y/N’s resolve wavered, cracks forming in the icy wall she’d built around herself. She wanted to crumble, to let Yeji’s warmth melt away the pain. But she reminded herself why she was doing this.

“There’s nothing to work through,” Y/N said, her voice colder than she thought possible. “We’re just not right for each other. You’ll see that eventually.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Yeji stared at her, the confusion on her face slowly giving way to pain.

“Y/N,” Yeji said again, her voice breaking. She reached for Y/N’s hand, but Y/N pulled away, the motion sharp and final.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said, her gaze dropping to the floor. She couldn’t look at Yeji, not when she knew she’d see her heart breaking.

Yeji took a shaky breath, her shoulders trembling as she fought to keep her composure. “I love you, Y/N,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what’s going on, but if you want me to leave… I will. I just hope you know that this hurts more than anything.”

The words were a dagger to Y/N’s heart. She bit her lip, willing herself not to cry. Not yet.

Yeji waited for a moment, as if hoping Y/N would stop her, would say something to take it all back. But when Y/N remained silent, her expression unreadable, Yeji nodded. Her face crumpled as she turned and walked toward the door.

Each step Yeji took felt like another crack in Y/N’s resolve, another piece of her heart breaking. When the door clicked shut behind her, Y/N collapsed onto the floor, the sobs she’d been holding back finally breaking free.

Tears streamed down her face as she clutched her knees to her chest, her entire body shaking with the force of her grief.

“I love you,” she whispered into the empty apartment, the words finally escaping her lips. “I love you too much to drag you down with me.”

The days after the breakup blurred into a relentless haze for Y/N. Her once-vivid world had dulled, the colors of her life now muted by an oppressive gray. Her apartment, once filled with warmth and laughter, now felt suffocatingly quiet. It was the kind of silence that didn’t comfort but weighed down on her, pressing into her chest like an unbearable weight.

Every corner of the space was a reminder of Yeji. The faint scent of her perfume still lingered on the couch cushions, a cruel ghost of her presence. The half empty bottle of soda Yeji had left in the fridge mocked Y/N every time she opened the door, its bright logo a jarring contrast to the void inside her. Even the mismatched mugs on the counter brought back memories, Yeji had always insisted on using the chipped one because she thought it had "character."

Y/N buried herself in work, throwing every ounce of energy she had into taking on as many shifts and freelance gigs as she could find. She told herself it was for her family, that every sleepless night, every skipped meal, was a step closer to fixing the financial mess they were in.

But deep down, she knew she was running. Running from the memories that clung to her like shadows. Running from the ache in her chest that never seemed to lessen, no matter how much she distracted herself. And running from the sound of Yeji’s voice that echoed in her mind, the words she could never forget.

“I love you, Y/N. I don’t know what’s going on, but if you want me to leave… I will.”

Those words haunted her. They played on an endless loop in her head, a cruel reminder of what she had lost. She had wanted to scream at Yeji that night, to beg her to stay, but instead, she’d let her walk away.

The mirror in the bathroom startled her one morning. She’d been so lost in thought, so accustomed to moving through life like a ghost, that she hardly recognized the person staring back at her.

Her eyes, once bright and expressive, were hollow, rimmed with dark circles that spoke of too many sleepless nights. Her skin, once glowing with life, was pale and dull, her cheeks sunken from skipping meals. Her hair hung limply around her face, unstyled and unkempt.

She leaned forward, gripping the edges of the sink as if it were the only thing keeping her upright.

“This is fine,” she whispered to herself, her voice cracking. “I’m fine.”

But the hollow echo of her words in the empty bathroom only made her feel worse.

She forced herself to leave the mirror and shuffle into the kitchen, where the countertops were cluttered with empty takeout containers, coffee-stained mugs, and unopened letters. Somewhere under the mess was her phone, buzzing incessantly.

She found it wedged under a stack of overdue notices, the screen lighting up with a message from Ryujin “Haven’t heard from you in weeks. You okay?”

Y/N stared at the text for a long moment, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. She could almost hear Ryujin’s voice, firm, no-nonsense, but tinged with the quiet worry of someone who cared.

She wanted to tell the truth, to pour out everything she’d been holding in. But the thought of admitting how far she’d fallen felt unbearable.

Finally, she typed back, “Just busy. Everything’s fine.”

She hit send and set the phone down, ignoring the knot of guilt twisting in her stomach. It wasn’t fine. She wasn’t fine. But admitting that felt like a defeat she couldn’t afford.

As the hours blurred into days, Y/N continued her descent. Her world became a monotonous cycle of work and exhaustion, her once vibrant personality fading into something barely recognizable.

Her apartment grew more cluttered, the piles of laundry and empty wrappers a physical manifestation of the chaos she felt inside. The scent of Yeji’s perfume had faded now, but Y/N swore she could still feel her presence sometimes, a phantom warmth on the couch, a ghostly echo of her laughter in the quiet nights.

Every so often, Y/N caught herself reaching for her phone, her thumb hovering over Yeji’s contact. She wanted to check in, to make sure Yeji was okay. But she always stopped herself. What could she say?

“I miss you.” “I lied, and I’m sorry.”

None of those were options. So instead, she buried herself deeper into work, into the cycle of distraction that kept her from falling apart completely. But no matter how hard she tried to run, she couldn’t escape the truth.

She was a shadow of herself, and the weight of everything, her family’s struggles, the breakup, the loneliness, was dragging her down, piece by piece.

It was only a matter of time before Ryujin and Yuna showed up at her door. Y/N hadn’t expected it to be that Saturday afternoon, when she was hunched over her laptop at the kitchen table, trying to stay awake. The screen displayed a spreadsheet of her finances, neatly organized columns of expenses and income. Despite her meticulous budgeting, the numbers never seemed to stretch far enough.

She had just finished transferring most of her paycheck to her parents. Rent, utilities, and her phone bill were covered, but the little that remained was hardly enough for groceries. She had grown used to eating less, instant noodles and black coffee had become her staples. It wasn’t ideal, but it was a small price to pay to keep her parents afloat.

The knock at the door startled her, pulling her from her thoughts. She froze, her heart racing as she debated pretending she wasn’t home.

“Y/N, we know you’re in there,” Ryujin’s voice called through the door, firm but tinged with concern.

“Open up,” Yuna added, softer but no less insistent. “We just want to check on you.”

Y/N sighed, closing her laptop and letting it sit among the clutter on the table. There was no point in pretending.

Dragging herself to the door, she unlocked it without bothering to tidy up. She barely had the energy to stand, let alone put up a front.

Ryujin and Yuna stepped inside, their worried expressions immediately shifting to shock as they took in the state of the apartment. The cozy space was unrecognizable, empty coffee cups and crumpled wrappers littered the table and counters. A few unopened letters sat neatly on the counter, but the rest of the apartment felt lifeless, almost as if no one lived there.

But it was Y/N herself that alarmed them the most. Her clothes hung loosely on her frame, her posture slouched with exhaustion. Her cheeks were hollow, her complexion pale, and her eyes were dull and rimmed with dark circles.

“Y/N…” Yuna began, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words. Her hand covered her mouth, as though she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Ryujin, less inclined to mince words, didn’t hesitate. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded, crossing her arms. Her tone was sharp, but her eyes betrayed her worry. “You look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

“I’m fine,” Y/N replied flatly, her voice devoid of emotion. She sank onto the couch, the motion slow and heavy, like her body was weighed down by invisible chains. She waved a hand dismissively, her gaze fixed on the floor. “Just busy. Nothing to worry about.”

“Don’t give us that,” Ryujin snapped, stepping closer. She gestured around the room, her frustration growing. “You’ve been avoiding everyone. Your apartment looks like this, and you look like… like you haven’t slept in weeks. This isn’t fine, Y/N. Not even close.”

Y/N looked away, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. She wanted to tell them to leave, to insist again that she was fine, but the words caught in her throat.

Instead, she muttered, “How’s Yeji?”

The question hung in the air, the room falling silent. Her voice had broken slightly as she said the name, betraying the emotions she had tried so hard to bury.

Ryujin and Yuna exchanged a glance, their concern deepening.

Yuna moved closer, kneeling beside Y/N. She placed a gentle hand on Y/N’s arm, her voice soft and understanding. “Y/N, what’s really going on? Is this about Yeji?”

Y/N’s carefully constructed walls crumbled in an instant. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she shook her head, her words tumbling out in broken sobs. “I didn’t have a choice. I had to let her go. She deserves better, someone who isn’t constantly… constantly stretched thin, someone who can give her everything.”

Her voice cracked as she continued. “I send almost everything I make to my parents. They’re drowning, and this is the only way I can help them. I barely even buy groceries anymore, I can’t justify spending the money when they need it more.”

Ryujin’s expression softened as she exchanged a glance with Yuna. “Y/N, why didn’t you tell us? We could’ve helped.”

“I couldn’t,” Y/N whispered. “I didn’t want anyone to know. And I couldn’t let her know. She was so happy, and I didn’t want to ruin that. I thought… I thought if I made her hate me, it would be easier for her to move on.”

Yuna wrapped her arms around Y/N, pulling her into a tight hug as she cried. Y/N clung to her like a lifeline, her body shaking with the force of her sobs.

Ryujin sat down on the couch beside them, her jaw tight with frustration but her eyes filled with sympathy. She reached over and placed a hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

“Y/N,” Ryujin said, her tone softer now. “Why didn’t you ask for help? You didn’t have to do this alone. You didn’t have to push her away.”

Y/N pulled back slightly, her voice a whisper. “I couldn’t. She deserves someone who can take care of her. Someone who isn’t like this.”

Ryujin frowned, her gaze hardening. “You don’t get to decide that for her. Or for us. You’re tearing yourself apart, and for what? To protect her? To protect us? You think we don’t care about you, too?”

Y/N shook her head, unable to respond. The weight of her choices pressed down on her, suffocating and relentless.

Yuna brushed a strand of hair from Y/N’s face, her voice gentle. “You love her, don’t you?”

Y/N’s breath hitched, and she nodded, fresh tears streaming down her face. “More than anything,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “But it doesn’t matter. She deserves more than I can give her.”

Yuna tightened her embrace, her heart breaking for her friend. Ryujin leaned back against the couch, exhaling deeply as she tried to rein in her emotions.

“We need to do something,” Ryujin muttered, her tone resolute. “This can’t go on.”

Yuna nodded, her hand still resting on Y/N’s arm. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

For the first time in weeks, Y/N didn’t feel completely alone.

When they left Y/N’s apartment later that evening, the weight of what they had seen lingered heavily in the air. Yuna turned to Ryujin as they walked down the dimly lit street, her steps purposeful.

“We need to tell Yeji,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Ryujin hesitated, her brow furrowing in thought. “Are you sure?” she asked, her tone cautious. “She’s still hurt. What if she doesn’t want to hear it? What if it just makes things worse?”

“She deserves to know the truth,” Yuna replied, determination in her voice. “Y/N’s falling apart, and it’s clear she still loves her. If we don’t do something, they’ll both keep hurting. And I’m not just going to stand by and watch that happen.”

Ryujin sighed, running a hand through her hair as she considered Yuna’s words. She hated the idea of reopening the wounds, but she couldn’t ignore the reality of Y/N’s condition. After a few moments of deliberation, she nodded.

“All right,” she said.

That night, they texted Yeji, asking to meet up. The reply came quickly, a simple “Okay. Where and when?” but the tension behind it was palpable.

The next day, the three of them sat at a small table in a quiet café. The atmosphere was subdued, the faint hum of conversation and the clinking of coffee cups filling the space.

Yeji arrived last, her entrance marked by the soft jingle of the doorbell. She looked striking as always, but there was a guardedness to her expression that hadn’t been there before. Her eyes were sharp, her shoulders set in a posture that said she was ready to protect herself.

She slid into the seat across from Ryujin and Yuna without a word, her gaze flicking between them. “What’s this about?” she asked, her tone clipped, though it lacked the bite it might have carried weeks ago.

Ryujin and Yuna exchanged a glance before Ryujin took the lead. “It’s about Y/N,” she said, her voice steady but serious. “She’s not okay.”

Yeji’s eyes flickered with something, concern, maybe, but she quickly masked it, her jaw tightening. “She pushed me away,” she said, her voice sharp with lingering hurt. “What do you expect me to do? She didn’t care about me anymore.”

“She didn’t push you away because she stopped caring,” Yuna interjected gently, leaning forward. “She did it because she thought she had to. Her family’s in serious financial trouble, Yeji. She’s been working herself into the ground trying to help them.”

Yeji’s eyes narrowed slightly, her posture stiffening. “Why didn’t she just tell me?” she asked, her voice tinged with frustration.

“She thought she couldn’t give you what you deserved,” Ryujin said. “She thought you’d be better off without her, so she lied. She said she couldn’t love you because she thought it would make things easier for you.”

Yeji froze, the weight of their words sinking in. Her hands clenched into fists on the table as she looked down, her jaw tight. She had suspected there was more to Y/N’s behavior, but hearing the truth laid bare felt like a punch to the gut.

Yuna’s voice softened as she continued. “She’s killing herself trying to fix everything on her own. She barely eats because she’s sending most of her money to her parents. Her apartment’s a mess, and she looks like she hasn’t slept in weeks.” Yuna paused, her eyes searching Yeji’s. “But she still cares about you. The moment we walked into her apartment, she asked about you.”

For a long moment, Yeji said nothing. Her emotions warred within her, anger at Y/N for lying, guilt for not seeing through it sooner, and a deep, aching love that she had tried to bury but couldn’t.

Finally, she spoke, her voice trembling. “Why didn’t she just tell me?” she repeated, her tone quieter now. “We could’ve… we could’ve figured it out together.”

Ryujin sighed, her gaze steady. “She thought she was protecting you.”

Yeji let out a shaky breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She blinked them away quickly, as though refusing to let herself fall apart. “I don’t know if I can forgive her for lying to me like that,” she admitted. “But… I need to see her.”

Yuna reached across the table, her hand covering Yeji’s. “Just talk to her,” she said gently. “If nothing else, you both need closure. And maybe… maybe she needs to hear that you still care, even if it doesn’t fix everything right away.”

Yeji hesitated, her eyes flicking to the table. Her fingers tapped nervously against her mug.

“I don’t even know what I’d say,” she murmured. “I’m still so… angry. But I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Ryujin leaned forward, her voice firm. “Say whatever’s on your mind. Be angry if you need to. Just go. She needs you, Yeji, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Yeji nodded, her resolve hardening.

“I’ll go,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions brewing within her.

Ryujin and Yuna exchanged a look of relief, but neither said anything.

The knock on Y/N’s door came late in the afternoon, shattering the eerie stillness that had wrapped itself around the apartment like a suffocating blanket. Inside, Y/N was barely conscious, slumped on the couch with her head resting on a pile of disorganized papers. Her laptop, still glowing faintly, hummed on the cluttered coffee table, its screen frozen on an unfinished document.

Yeji knocked again, this time with more force. Her voice, sharp with worry, cut through the silence. “Y/N! Are you in there?”

The sound registered faintly in Y/N’s fever clouded mind. She stirred weakly at the sound of her name, her eyelids fluttering but too heavy to fully open. Her head pounded relentlessly, and her limbs felt like they were made of lead. The fever that had been simmering for days had finally overtaken her, sapping what little strength she had left.

Yeji’s heart pounded in her chest when no answer came. Her worry deepened, her mind racing through worst case scenarios. She dug through her bag, her fingers trembling as she found the spare key Y/N had given her months ago, back when they were inseparable and such gestures were effortless.

Sliding the key into the lock, Yeji opened the door and stepped inside, bracing herself for whatever she might find.

The sight that greeted her knocked the air from her lungs.

The apartment was in complete disarray. Empty coffee cups and crumpled containers were scattered across the table and counters. A jacket was draped carelessly over the back of a chair, and a mountain of unopened mail had spilled onto the floor near the door. The faint smell of stale food hung in the air, mixing with the faintly metallic tang of fever sweat.

And there, on the couch, was Y/N.

She looked impossibly small and fragile, a pale shadow of the person Yeji remembered. Her skin, usually glowing with vitality, was ashen and glistening with sweat. Her hair clung to her damp forehead in messy strands. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, and her face, slack with exhaustion, was framed by dark shadows under her closed eyes.

“Y/N!” Yeji’s voice cracked as she rushed to her side, her heart racing in panic. Kneeling beside her, she pressed the back of her hand to Y/N’s forehead and immediately winced at the searing heat.

“God, you’re burning up,” Yeji muttered, her voice breaking.

She didn’t waste a second. Dropping her bag to the floor, she hurried to the kitchen. Her movements were frantic as she filled a bowl with cool water, her shaking hands splashing it onto the counter. Grabbing a clean cloth from a drawer, she returned to Y/N’s side, her stomach twisting at the sight of her still form.

Kneeling again, Yeji folded the damp cloth and placed it gently on Y/N’s forehead. She smoothed Y/N’s damp hair away from her face, her fingers trembling.

“Y/N…” Yeji whispered, her voice heavy with emotions she didn’t have the strength to untangle.

Y/N stirred at the cool touch, her lips parting as she croaked weakly, “Yeji…?”

The sound of her name on Y/N’s lips was both a relief and a dagger. Yeji leaned closer, her voice steady but firm. “Shh, don’t talk. You’re sick, Y/N. Just rest.”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed again, her head lolling to the side. Yeji stayed beside her for a long moment, her chest aching as she took in every detail of Y/N’s fragile state.

“How long have you been like this?” Yeji murmured, her throat tightening. The thought of Y/N struggling like this, alone, pushing herself to the brink, made her chest swell with a mix of anger and heartbreak.

She forced herself to her feet, looking around the apartment. The disarray was overwhelming, but it was nothing she couldn’t fix. Rolling up her sleeves, Yeji got to work.

She cleared the clutter from the table, tossing out the trash and empty containers. She stacked the unopened mail neatly on the counter, her eyes scanning the envelopes for anything urgent. She folded the jacket draped over the chair and straightened the cushions on the couch.

Her movements were quick and purposeful, but every action was fueled by a swirl of emotions, frustration at Y/N for letting things get this bad, anger at herself for not seeing the signs sooner, and a deep, aching love that made her want to take all of Y/N’s burdens onto her own shoulders.

As night fell, Yeji stayed by Y/N’s side, checking her fever and swapping out the cloth on her forehead. Forcing Y/N to take medicine, her voice gentle but insistent.

“You need to drink this, Y/N,” she murmured, holding the glass to Y/N’s lips. When Y/N managed a few sips, Yeji set the glass down and tucked the blanket more securely around her shivering frame.

Sitting back, Yeji brushed a hand over her face, exhaustion creeping in. But she refused to let herself rest. Not when Y/N needed her.

Her eyes softened as she watched Y/N’s sleeping form. “You’re not doing this alone anymore,” Yeji whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. “I won’t let you.”

The words hung in the still air, a promise she intended to keep.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the blinds, painting warm streaks of light across the living room. The golden rays fell on Y/N’s face, coaxing her from a restless sleep. She stirred groggily, blinking against the brightness, her head pounding less than it had the night before but her body still heavy with weakness.

Her surroundings were unfamiliar, not in the way of being somewhere new, but in how they felt transformed. The cluttered mess she had grown used to was gone. Papers that once spilled over the coffee table were neatly stacked, and the floor was now spotless.

Y/N sat up slowly, her movements sluggish. Her blanket slipped to the floor as she swung her legs off the couch, her bare feet brushing against the cool floor. Confusion settled in her chest, her groggy mind struggling to process the change.

Then she heard it, the faint sound of clanging pots and soft muttering coming from the kitchen.

Her heart skipped a beat as recognition hit her like a jolt. She would have known that voice anywhere.

“Why is this pan sticking? I swear it’s supposed to be nonstick…”

Y/N pushed herself to her feet, her body protesting the movement, but she didn’t care. She padded slowly toward the kitchen, her breaths shallow, her pulse racing.

When she reached the doorway, she stopped, her breath catching in her throat.

Yeji stood at the stove, her back to Y/N. Her hair was tied back in a loose, messy bun, and she wore one of Y/N’s oversized sweatshirts, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. The sight was achingly familiar, yet it made Y/N’s chest ache with a mix of disbelief and longing.

“Yeji…?” Y/N’s voice was hoarse, weak from days of fever and exhaustion, but it carried a note of wonder, as if she couldn’t believe her own eyes.

Yeji froze for a moment before turning slowly, the spatula in her hand forgotten as her eyes met Y/N’s.

“You’re awake,” Yeji said softly, her expression shifting from surprise to relief. She set the spatula down on the counter and crossed the room in a few quick strides, her hands reaching out to steady Y/N. “You should be resting.”

Y/N let herself be guided to a chair at the small kitchen table, her mind spinning as Yeji helped her sit. “Why are you here?” she asked, her voice trembling with confusion and vulnerability.

Yeji’s jaw tightened slightly, her expression flickering with something unreadable. “Because someone had to be,” she said simply, her voice steady but tinged with frustration. “You scared me, Y/N. Do you even realize how bad things have gotten for you?”

Y/N looked away, shame pooling in her chest. She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, avoiding Yeji’s gaze. “I was fine,” she murmured weakly.

“Fine?” Yeji repeated, her voice rising slightly, incredulous. “You call this fine? You’re sick, your apartment was a disaster, and you’ve been running yourself into the ground! This isn’t fine, Y/N! It’s self destruction!”

The sharpness in Yeji’s voice was like a slap, and Y/N flinched. She opened her mouth to respond, but Yeji didn’t give her the chance.

“You didn’t fall out of love with me, did you?” Yeji asked, her voice breaking as she stepped closer, her eyes locked on Y/N’s. “That’s what you said when you broke up with me. That you couldn’t love me. But it wasn’t true, was it?”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her chest tightening as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. “Yeji, please…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“No,” Yeji said firmly, her voice trembling with emotion. “I need to know, Y/N. I need to hear the truth. Did you ever stop loving me?”

Y/N’s carefully constructed walls crumbled under the weight of Yeji’s words. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as sobs tore through her. “Do you think I wanted to?” she cried, her voice raw with anguish. “I love you, Yeji. I love you with my whole heart.”

Yeji froze, her own eyes filling with tears as she watched Y/N fall apart in front of her.

“I didn’t want to let you go,” Y/N continued, her words tumbling out between sobs. “But my family… they’re drowning, Yeji. I’m the only one who can help them. I didn’t want you to be dragged into my mess. I thought if I pushed you away, it would be easier for you. Easier to move on.”

Yeji stepped closer, kneeling in front of Y/N as she gently pulled her hands away from her tear-streaked face. “You didn’t have to do this alone,” she said softly, her voice shaking with emotion. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Y/N. I love you. We could’ve faced this together.”

Y/N shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “You deserve better. Someone who isn’t struggling like me, who can treat you right, who can spoil you. Not someone who sends almost every penny away.”

Yeji’s expression softened, but there was a fierceness in her eyes, shining with unshed tears as she reached for Y/N’s hands. She held them tightly, her voice steady but filled with emotion. “Stop. You think I care about being spoiled? I don’t need perfect dates or expensive gifts. I need you. You’re not broken, and you’re not less because you’re helping your family. You’re human. And I love you for all of it, for who you are, for the way you care so much, even when it hurts you. So stop pushing me away. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

The words hung in the air, a fragile but unyielding promise. Y/N stared at Yeji, her breath catching as the weight of her guilt and loneliness began to lift.

“You… you shouldn’t have come,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling.

“But I did,” Yeji said, her voice steady now. “And I’m staying. You don’t have to do this alone anymore, Y/N. Let me help you.”

For the first time in weeks, Y/N allowed herself to believe in the possibility of something brighter. She leaned forward, her forehead resting against Yeji’s as fresh tears fell silently down her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” she choked out. “For lying, for pushing you away. I thought it was the only way—”

“Shh,” Yeji soothed, pulling back just enough to cup Y/N’s face in her hands. “It’s okay. I understand. But you don’t have to protect me from your struggles. I want to be there for you, just like you’ve always been there for me.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, but this time, it wasn’t from guilt or sadness, it was from the overwhelming warmth of being truly seen and loved.

They stayed like that for a while, holding each other as the morning sunlight filtered through the room. It was a quiet, unspoken promise between them, to be each other’s strength, to share the burdens and joys of life together.

Over the following weeks, things began to change. Slowly at first, small, hesitant steps but with Yeji by her side, Y/N started finding her footing again. It was like the heavy fog that had clouded her life was gradually lifting, letting in rays of light and warmth she hadn’t felt in months.

Yeji approached Y/N’s struggles with quiet determination. She wasn’t overbearing, she was patient and steady, offering her support in a way that felt natural and unforced. Together, they tackled the chaos one piece at a time.

The unopened mail was their first challenge. Yeji sat cross-legged on the floor, sorting through stacks of envelopes while Y/N, still hesitant, hovered nearby.

“Bill,” Yeji said, holding up one envelope. “Bill. Junk mail. Ooh, a coupon for a free coffee, score!” She grinned, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile faintly in return.

Bit by bit, they made progress. They created a detailed budget that balanced Y/N’s own expenses with the money she sent to her parents. Yeji even joined Y/N on a call to her family, offering gentle but firm suggestions for ways to ease the financial strain. Y/N’s parents were initially hesitant, but Yeji’s calm reassurance helped them see the bigger picture.

“It won’t solve everything overnight,” Yeji had said after the call, her hand resting on Y/N’s shoulder, “but it’s a start. And that’s enough for now.”

The weight that had once seemed unbearable felt lighter now that Y/N wasn’t carrying it alone.

One evening, as they finished tidying up the apartment, Yeji surveyed their work with satisfaction. The chaos was gone, replaced by an airy, comfortable space that felt like a fresh start.

“I’m proud of you,” Yeji said, turning to Y/N with a warm smile. “You’re doing amazing.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the compliment. She hadn’t felt proud of herself in a long time. But looking around the apartment and feeling the steadiness in Yeji’s gaze, she allowed herself to believe it.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Y/N said, her smile growing into the first genuine, carefree expression Yeji had seen in weeks.

They worked as a team, their combined strength shining in every step they took. Y/N started eating regularly again, encouraged by Yeji’s gentle persistence.

“Two meals a day,” Yeji insisted one afternoon as they browsed the grocery store aisles. “Three if I can sneak in breakfast.”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully but relented. “Fine, but only if you don’t burn everything we buy.”

“I make no promises,” Yeji replied, grinning.

Cooking together became a new routine. Y/N stuck to simple meals, while Yeji attempted to assist, often with mixed results. Once, while trying to stir a pot of soup, Yeji accidentally splashed tomato broth onto the counter.

“Is it supposed to look like this?” Yeji asked, staring dubiously at the lumpy consistency of her attempt at mashed potatoes.

Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “No, but it’s fine. You’re charming enough to distract me from the disaster.”

Their laughter filled the kitchen, a sound that had been missing for far too long.

Y/N slept better, too. The nights, once filled with restless thoughts and self-doubt, became moments of peace. Some evenings, Yeji would sit beside her, running her fingers through Y/N’s hair until her breathing evened out.

Together, they also found small moments of joy amid the challenges. They spent lazy afternoons cuddling on the couch, watching movies neither of them paid much attention to because they were too busy whispering to each other.

Evening walks became another ritual. They wandered the quiet streets, hands brushing together until Yeji finally linked their fingers. They talked about everything and nothing, about their dreams, their fears, and the silly, inconsequential things that made them laugh.

“You know,” Yeji said during one such walk, her voice teasing, “if this whole cooking thing doesn’t work out, I could always become a professional pancake flipper. I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

Y/N burst out laughing, leaning into Yeji’s shoulder. “If by ‘getting the hang of it,’ you mean traumatizing every pan in my kitchen, then sure. You’re practically a chef.”

Their mornings were filled with similar laughter. Yeji insisted on trying her hand at breakfast, and Y/N often sat at the table, nursing a cup of tea and watching the chaos unfold.

“Why does this toaster hate me?” Yeji grumbled one morning, glaring at the device as it stubbornly refused to toast evenly.

“It’s probably afraid you’ll set it on fire,” Y/N teased, grinning over the rim of her mug.

Yeji shot her a mock glare, but her smile betrayed her.

Every small moment, every shared laugh and quiet embrace, brought them closer. They weren’t perfect, there were still challenges to face, and Y/N’s family’s financial situation remained an ongoing concern but they were stronger together.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N felt like she wasn’t just surviving. She was living.

[soleilpinto]

Cruising in Papaya: Private but not Secret ˚‧｡⋆🍁

“Life’s Better on Saturn ” ˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚ (Saturn, SZA)

Synopsis: Y/N Laurant, a glamorous socialite, meets Lando Norris during a race weekend, sparks fly between the two, but as their feelings deepen, they struggle to balance their secret relationship with their public lives, all while navigating the pressure of the fast-paced F1 scene.

Genre: (Some) Angst, Fluff, Romance

AU: Social Media and Written!au

Pairing: Lando x Afab!Socialite!Reader

Warnings: None

Note: Did not expect to become so busy lately, this is the final part before the actual finale so everyone buckle up 😭 Thank you all for the support once again and as always don’t forget to like + reblog as a form of support!

Cruising in Papaya Masterlist. (Prev./Next.)

@pitlanespy the way y/n and lando are handling their relationship is so refreshing. they’re not flaunting, but they’re not hiding anymore either. we love a balanced couple

@chicanechatter y/n and lando have mastered the art of keeping it private but not secret. leave them alone and let them enjoy their love!

@turn1drama ok but y/n keeping things private yet giving us hints every now and then is such a power move. the girl knows her pr

@papayaruIes well duh, she’s a socialite. she’s practically an expert

@f1gossipupdates I can’t believe Y/N and Lando are finally being open-ish. Like, she really said ‘we’re together, but y’all don’t need all the details.’ I respect it!

The short off-season break had been a rare pocket for you and Lando to relax without the rush of race weekends or the scrutiny of flashing cameras. It was a crisp afternoon in Monaco, the sun reflecting off the gentle waves as the two of you sat on the terrace of Lando’s apartment overlooking the harbor.

With steaming cups of coffee in hand and a blanket draped over your shoulders, the moment felt calm, natural—far removed from the chaotic world outside.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” Lando broke the silence, his voice soft. “Being able to just exist without worrying about anyone watching.”

You glanced at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It does. I was almost starting to forget what that felt like.”

The two of you had tiptoed the fine line between privacy and secrecy, but the responses to your soft launch had been surprisingly supportive.

Fans who had once speculated endlessly about your relationship now seemed to respect the boundaries you were trying to set. It was refreshing, almost liberating.

Lando set his mug down and turned to face you fully, his expression growing more serious. “I’ve been thinking about something,” he began, hesitating just enough to make you raise an eyebrow.

“That sounds ominous,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckled but didn’t look away, his blue eyes searching yours.

“I don’t want us to hide anymore,” he admitted.

“I mean, I know we’ve already agreed to keep the details of our relationship private—and I want to stick to that. But I hate the thought of going to the next Grand Prix without you. It feels wrong now like I’m leaving a part of me behind.”

Your heart softened at his words, but you couldn’t help the cautious tone in your response. “Lando, you know how intense it can get. Even with the positive reactions, there will always be backlash. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

He reached out, taking your hand in his.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything. I’ve been through enough to know that people will always have something to say, but it doesn’t matter to me. What matters is us—and I want you there with me, not just in the background but by my side. I think we can handle it together.”

You studied his face, finding nothing but sincerity in his expression. It was hard not to be moved by his resolve. You had spent so much time questioning if the two of you could make it work, but Lando’s unwavering confidence in your relationship made you want to believe it too.

“And you think it’ll make things easier if I’m there with you?” you asked, your voice teasing but soft.

He grinned, leaning closer. “I know it will. Plus, you being there might actually make all those post-race media sessions bearable.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, Norris. You win. I’ll come with you to the next Grand Prix—but you’d better promise to share some of the attention.”

His face lit up with a mixture of relief and happiness, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Deal.”

As the two of you sat back, the afternoon sun casting a golden glow around you, it was clear that this decision marked the start of a new chapter. No more hiding in shadows or ducking behind corners. You would face the world together, one race at a time.

The soft hum of Monte Carlo filled the space between your words as you sipped your coffee, the warmth of the mug grounding you.

Pietra leaned back into the plush armchair across you, her curiosity palpable as the sunlight bathed your living room in a golden hue.

“So,” Pietra began again, her voice playful yet genuinely inquisitive. “Are we finally getting the tea on you and Lando?”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head as you set your mug down on the table. “You’re so nosy.”

“Nosy?” she retorted, raising an eyebrow. “Please, I’ve been invested ever since that media meltdown since your birthday. There’s a difference. Now spill.”

Her lighthearted tone brought a smile to your face, but the memories of the past month made your chest tighten slightly.

Pietra had been one of your closest confidantes ever since you met Lando's close circle, one of the few who truly understood the chaos of public scrutiny and the complexities of trying to maintain a personal life within it.

If anyone could handle the details of what you’d been through, it was her.

Taking a deep breath, you began. “We’re good now,” you said, the words feeling like a balm as they left your lips. “Really good, actually. But it wasn’t always like that.”

Pietra’s expression shifted, her teasing giving way to concern. She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. “What happened?”

You hesitated, your fingers lightly tracing the rim of your coffee mug as you gathered your thoughts.

“When everything blew up, it felt like the world was against us. The media was relentless, fans were speculating every little thing, and it felt like we couldn’t catch a break. It all came to a head, and we ended up having this huge fight.”

Her brows knitted together. “Over the media?”

“It was more than that,” you admitted. “It was the pressure, the constant hiding, the fear that we’d never be able to have something real outside of all the noise. Lando was frustrated, and I don’t blame him. But he said some things…” You trailed off, the memory still stinging.

Pietra reached over, placing a comforting hand on yours. “Things that hurt?”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah. And I was so overwhelmed, I left. Went back to Saint Tropez. For a while, I thought that was it for us. I couldn’t see how we’d come back from it.”

She squeezed your hand gently, her voice soft. “But you did.”

A small smile tugged at your lips.

“We did. During the break, Lando found out I was in Monaco. He called me—said he wanted to talk, that he couldn’t leave things the way they were. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see him, but when I did…” You paused, exhaling deeply. “It felt like the right thing to do.”

Pietra’s eyes softened, her smile encouraging you to continue.

“We had a long talk. About everything—what we want, what we’re afraid of, what we’re willing to do to make this work. It wasn’t easy, but we both realized that letting go wasn’t an option. We care about each other too much to let all the outside noise ruin what we have.”

Pietra leaned back, her smile widening. “That’s huge, Y/N. It sounds like you both really fought for this.”

You nodded, the relief of the memory settling over you. “We did. And now, we’re taking it one step at a time. He asked me to come to the next Grand Prix with him. He doesn’t want us to hide anymore, and honestly, I don’t either. But we’ve agreed to keep things private—no oversharing, no giving the media more than they need. Just us, on our terms.”

Pietra’s grin turned mischievous. “Oh, I can’t wait to see the paddock’s reaction when you show up with him again. The fans are going to lose it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m sure they will. But for the first time, it doesn’t feel overwhelming. It feels… manageable.”

“That’s because you’re doing it the right way,” Pietra said confidently. “You’re setting boundaries, and you’re doing this together. It’s going to be okay.”

“Thanks, Pietra,” you said, your smile grateful. “It feels good to finally have some clarity, to know that we’re in this together.”

“Absolutely,” she said, a sparkle in her eye. “But don’t think you’re off the hook. You owe me every detail about how it goes when you’re back at the Grand Prix.”

You laughed, feeling a lightness you hadn’t in weeks. “Oh, trust me, I’ll have plenty to share.”

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, you couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of hope. For the first time in a while, the future with Lando felt bright, and you were ready to take on whatever came next—together.

liked by mclaren, lando and others

laurant.yn off-season kick off

francisca.cgomes 😍

mclaren starting the break right 🧡

lando ❤️

@f1landolove SHE POSTED HIM. SHE REALLY POSTED HIM. Y/N AND LANDO ARE OFFICIALLY OFFICIAL. I’M SCREAMING. 😭❤️ 

@paddockqueen_ Not me refreshing my feed 100 times today just to confirm it wasn’t a fever dream. Y/N posted Lando on her MAIN. THE MAIN!!! 🔥👀

@pitstopsocialite_ Y/N really said, “Soft launch era is OVER.” That pic of Lando is giving boyfriend energy. We love to see it. 🥰

@f1overdrive Okay, but I’m lowkey jealous… Y/N Laurant is the definition of having it all. Fashion icon + F1 driver boyfriend? Goals

@neutralnora Honestly, happy for them. Y/N seems like she keeps Lando grounded, and he deserves that. 🥹

@shadypaddock I give it six months. Relationships in the spotlight rarely last. 🙄

The energy in Singapore was electric, the vibrant city buzzing with excitement as race weekend loomed closer. You stood beside Lando, your suitcase rolling quietly behind you as you both exited the airport.

The humid air wrapped around you, mingling with the chatter of fans and photographers who had already spotted you.

Flashes of cameras ignited like small bursts of lightning, and the occasional murmur of your name reached your ears. You instinctively glanced at Lando, who gave you a reassuring smile, his hand brushing against yours.

“We’re really doing this,” you said softly, your voice a mix of nerves and determination.

“Yeah, we are,” Lando replied, his eyes meeting yours with steady resolve. “No more hiding. No more letting them control the narrative. It’s just us, and we’re not apologizing for it.”

The ride to the hotel was quiet, the occasional buzz of your phone from notifications breaking the silence. You knew the media frenzy was already kicking off—pictures and videos of the two of you had likely hit social media within minutes of your arrival. But for the first time, you didn’t feel the weight of it.

As you stepped into the hotel lobby together, the atmosphere shifted. Fans waiting in the lounge glanced your way, some pulling out their phones, their whispers barely audible over the soft music playing in the background.

“People are watching,” you said under your breath, your fingers brushing against his arm.

Lando chuckled lightly. “Let them watch. We’re not doing anything wrong.”

His nonchalant attitude eased the tension in your shoulders, and you found yourself smiling despite the circumstances. The two of you checked in without a hitch, the staff professional and discreet, even as you caught sight of a few camera flashes from outside the glass doors.

Once you reached the privacy of your suite, the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding finally began to dissipate. You sank onto the plush couch, letting out a long exhale.

“That wasn’t so bad,” you said, glancing at Lando as he placed your bags by the wall.

He sat beside you, leaning back with a grin. “See? I told you. We can handle this.”

You turned to face him, your expression softening. “It’s just… surreal. To finally be here with you, not worrying about every little thing. I mean, I know the rumors and gossip won’t stop, but it feels different now.”

“It does,” Lando agreed, taking your hand in his. “Because we’re not letting it control us anymore. We’re doing this our way, on our terms.”

You nodded, the warmth of his hand grounding you. “It’s going to take some getting used to, though. I’m sure the paddock will have a lot to say.”

“Let them,” Lando said with a shrug, his tone calm but firm. “I don’t care what they think, as long as you’re with me.”

His words sent a wave of reassurance through you, and you squeezed his hand gently. “You’re really good at this whole boyfriend thing, you know that?”

He grinned, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your temple. “I try.”

The two of you spent the evening talking, discussing how you’d navigate the paddock together, and agreeing to address any questions with a united front. By the time you went to bed, you felt a sense of peace you hadn’t in months.

The Singapore paddock buzzed with excitement, the air thick with humidity and anticipation for the race weekend ahead. As you and Lando walked through the gates together, it was impossible not to notice the ripple of energy your presence caused.

Fans lining the barriers gasped, some clutching their phones tightly as they captured the moment.

“There they are!” someone whispered loudly, their voice barely audible over the collective murmurs. “It’s Y/N and Lando!”

Flashes from cameras and phones lit up around you as you kept a steady pace beside Lando. He was calm, his expression relaxed but confident, while you mirrored his composure, your hand grazing his arm lightly as if to reassure yourself.

Fans erupted into chatter, their voices mixing with the distant hum of engines.

“Oh my God, they’re actually together.” “Do you think this means they’re official-official?” “They’re not hiding anymore, but they’re still so lowkey. I love it.”

As you passed a group of fans holding up McLaren flags, Lando glanced their way with a small wave and a quick smile. You couldn’t help but grin when you heard someone squeal, “He looks so happy!”

Inside the paddock, the atmosphere was no less intense. Team members and media professionals stole glances at the two of you, some openly curious, others trying to act nonchalant.

You caught sight of a camera crew lingering near the McLaren hospitality, their lenses subtly but unmistakably trained on you and Lando.

“Ready for the circus?” Lando muttered under his breath, leaning slightly toward you.

You smirked, keeping your gaze forward. “I think I can handle it. You’re the one who’s got to focus on racing.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers brushing yours in a fleeting touch. “I’ve got that part covered. It’s the rest of this that’s new for me.”

Before either of you could say more, you spotted Lily Zneimer and Hattie Piastri approaching from the McLaren hospitality, their faces lighting up when they saw you.

“You’re here!” Lily exclaimed, her voice full of excitement as she pulled you into a quick hug. “I was wondering when you’d show up!”

Hattie grinned, giving Lando a knowing look before turning to you. “And here I thought you’d keep us guessing forever.”

You laughed, your nerves easing slightly. “I figured it was time. Can’t keep hiding forever, right?”

“Exactly,” Lily agreed, linking her arm with yours. “And you’ve got us. The paddock isn’t so bad once you’ve got the right people.”

Lando excused himself briefly to check in with his team, leaving you with Lily and Hattie. You felt the stares around you but found yourself surprisingly unbothered, their presence grounding you.

When Lando returned, he didn’t hesitate to rejoin you, his arm brushing against yours in a way that felt both casual and intimate. He didn’t seem fazed by the whispers or the cameras subtly tracking your every move.

Instead, he leaned down slightly and murmured, “Told you we’ve got this.”

You glanced up at him, the corner of your mouth lifting into a small smile. “We do.”

As the two of you walked deeper into the paddock, side by side, it was clear to everyone watching: while you weren’t laying out the details of your relationship, you weren’t hiding it anymore, either. And from the way fans’ excited chatter filled the air, it seemed they couldn’t be happier to finally see you together.

© soleilpinto 25’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

Taglist: @bakingpiastries @linnygirl09

[winchesterwild78]

The Art of Not Saying "I Love You" pt 4

Master List

Characters: Soldier Boy, Ben x Reader, other characters from The Boys

Warnings: some angst, lots of fluff, Ben the ol softy 

A/N: I’ve loved writing this story. Ben always gets a bad rap because of his personality, but I see right through it. He was hurt and betrayed by his father and then the woman he loved. He was tortured for over 40 years, I don’t know about you but I’d be a little pissed too. I love writing soft Ben, because I have a feeling if the right woman came along she could break down those walls, brick by brick. I can see him falling in love and it scaring the hell out of him. 

I hope you’ve enjoyed this story. Thanks for reading it. 

I do not own the rights to the characters in this story. This does not follow The Boys timeline, and is a work of fiction.

All work is my own, please don’t take it or use it without permission. Reblogs and Likes are always welcome.

Written and edited fast, please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

Annie looked at me stunned. “You’re what?!” Tears pricked my eyes, “I’m pregnant. Oh Annie, what am I going to do?” 

She pulled me close and wrapped her arms around me. “We will figure it out.” 

I swallowed hard as a lump formed. I knew the baby was Ben’s. Tom always wore a condom and never finished inside me. He always pulled out and finished in the condom. Ben however, was proud of the fact he came inside me. 

I placed a hand on my stomach. I couldn’t believe this was my life. So utterly alone, heartbroken and pregnant. 

I felt the bile rise up in my throat and I ran to the bathroom, emptying the contents of my stomach. 

When I finished I cleaned myself up, brushed my teeth and went back into the living room. 

Annie was texting and my heart sank. “Annie, please don’t say anything to anyone. Even Huey. I don’t want Ben to know.” 

“Oh sweetie, it’s not my place to tell anyone. I was just letting Huey know I was staying the night with you. Y/N, I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I think you should tell Ben. If this is his baby don’t you think he should know. Even if you two aren’t together, don’t you want your baby to have both their parents in their life?” 

“I don’t know what to do, Annie. Can I really raise a baby on my own, do I want to? I was in love with Ben. Hell, I still am. If things were different I’d be over the moon to have a baby with the man I love, but he has made it clear he can’t or won’t have a relationship with me. I can’t risk him hurting this child. If I keep the baby, they will only know they are loved and wanted. I don’t want them growing up thinking they weren’t good enough to be loved by their father.” 

She touched my arm, “Well, whatever you decide I’ll be there with you. This baby will always be loved and taken care of. Right now let’s focus on getting you something to eat and relaxing.” 

I nodded and she pulled me in tightly for a hug. 

“I don’t have much here for food.” “It’s okay. I’ll run to the store since you’re not feeling well and grab some stuff. You stay here and rest.”

I nodded, she hugged me and left. I thought about what she said about Butcher. 

I took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat and hovered over his contact information in my phone. 

I pushed it and bit my lip. One ring and he picked up. 

“Oi, love! Are you okay? Where are you?” 

My voice was soft, “Hey B. I’m okay. I’m so sorry I cut you out. I’ve been dealing with everything. I just needed to get away and clear my head.” 

“I understand, love. Are you coming home?” 

“No, I have a place now. I’m so sorry B.” Then I heard Ben in the background. “Butcher get the fuck off the phone. We have work to do.” 

I gasped at the sound of his voice. It sent a shiver down my spine. My breath hitched. 

“Shut it you fucking cunt. I’m talking to Y/N.” 

“What?! How is she, where is she? Let me talk to her.” 

“No, Butcher. I don’t want to talk to him. Please.” 

“No. She doesn’t want to talk to you.” 

I felt sick. My heart pounded in my chest. Part of me screamed out for him and another part wanted to keep him away. I was so torn. 

“Hey, Butcher. You sound busy. I promise to keep in touch. I love you, B.” 

“Okay, I love you too, Y/N.” 

We hung up and the tears fell. I sat my phone down and it rang almost immediately. 

I looked at the screen and it was Ben. I sat staring at his name. The call ended and he called right back. He was relentless. 

Finally I answered, “Hello, Ben.” 

“Oh my god, Y/N! Thank god you answered. Are you okay? Where are you?” 

“I’m okay Ben. I’m not going to tell you where I am. I need to protect myself from you.” 

He gasped softly, “Please don’t say that, baby. I would never hurt you.” 

I scoffed, “But you did, Ben. You made me fall in love with you and then you pushed me away. How could you do that?” A sob left my lips.

Ben ran his fingers through his hair, “Baby, I didn’t mean to hurt you. You’re everything to me.” “No, Ben. I’m not. If I was you wouldn’t have slept with another woman the day after we made love all weekend.”

He sighed heavily. “Ben, I need to tell you something. Before I do I need you to understand I don’t need anything or want anything from you.” 

“Okay, sweetheart. I understand.” Ben’s heart quickened and his mind began to race. 

“Ben, I went to the doctor for a physical and they ran some routine tests. The doctor called me today with the results.” I swallowed hard and took a deep shaky breath.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Is everything okay?” My voice quivered, “No Ben, but I will be. Ben, I’m pregnant.” 

Ben almost dropped his phone, “What? Is it mine or Tom’s?” “It’s yours. I’m positive. But I don’t want or need anything from you. I just wanted you to know. You have a right to know.” 

“Y/N, please tell me where you are. I want to be there with you.” “Ben, it’s too late. You made your choice and I’ve made mine. I’ll keep you updated on the baby, but I’m not expecting anything. I don’t want them to feel like they are unloved or unworthy.” 

“Don’t do that.” His voice dripped with venom. “Don’t do what? Tell the truth? Ben I know you used me. I was stupid enough to fall in love with you, stupid enough to believe I mattered and that you loved me too. But you’re not capable of loving anyone, are you?!”

“Stop! You do matter to me, dammit. I’m a fucking coward! Is that what you want to hear? I’m a fucking coward who finally let his walls down, made love to a beautiful woman, apparently made a baby with her and then I pushed her away. All because I’m too much of a fucking coward to admit…” His voice trailed off. 

I heard the pain in his voice and it sent a pang of guilt and sadness through my heart. “To admit what Ben?”

“Just forget it. You’ve made up your mind already, Y/N. I want to be in our baby’s life. They will know I’m their father and I’ll do whatever I can to protect them.”

“Ben.” My voice is soft and unsure. “Y/N.” “Please tell me what you were going to say. I need to hear it. Please.” My voice quivered and I felt the tears start to fall. 

Ben was quiet on the other end. He took a deep breath. “I um.. Shit, this is harder than being tortured for 40 years.” I chuckled softly, “Ben, please. You can trust me. I love you, Ben.” 

Just like that a switch flipped, “Y/N, I’m sorry. I’ve been a fucking pussy. I let everything Crimson and those Reds do to me cloud my judgement and build up walls. You broke through those walls without even trying. Now you’re having my baby. Y/N, I’m so sorry it took me this long to grow a pair. I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you.” 

My breath hitched and I smiled. There it was. Ben finally said it. Finally admitting what he had been pushing down deep. 

“I love you too, Ben. Now get your ass over here.” I gave him the address and he laughed, “Yes ma’am. I’m on my way.”

When Annie came back from the store I told her what happened and how Ben was coming over. She hugged me and told me she was glad he finally admitted he loved me. “I knew it this whole time. It was the only thing that made sense. He’s been terrified of giving his heart away again and having it crushed. I’m happy for your sweetie. I’m going to leave so you two can have some privacy. Let me know how it goes.” I nodded and gave her a hug. 

I sat on the couch and waited for Ben. My heart pounded in my chest. Every minute felt like an eternity. An hour had passed since the phone call. My heart began to ache. It doesn’t take an hour to get here from the apartment. Oh god, he did it again. I let myself believe him.

As the familiar ache started to fill my heart the sound of the doorbell pulled me from my thoughts. 

I took a deep breath and opened the door. Standing there was Ben. Looking as amazing as ever. In his hands was a bouquet of my favorite flowers, a bag filled with my favorite snacks and another bag. 

I chuckled when I saw it. His green eyes met mine, “Sorry I’m late sweetheart. I had to make a stop.” 

He walked in, sat the stuff down and I leaped in his arms. He pulled me flush to his chest and kissed me. The kiss was gentle at first but then it deepened. The pain and sorrow from the past two months melted away with every swipe of our tongues, every brush of his fingertips. 

When we pulled away from each other our chests were heaving for air. Ben’s hands cupped my face, “God you’re so beautiful, and you’re having my baby.” I smiled and leaned into his touch, “Yeah, we’re having a baby, Ben.” 

He placed his hands gently on my stomach, “Hey baby. It’s your dad. You’re going to come out and kick ass.” I playfully slapped his arm, “Ben, language.” He smirked, “Sorry, but he will.” “Oh so it’s a he?” 

Ben just looked at me, “I like to think so. He’s going to grow up loved, strong and I’ll always be so fucking proud of him.” 

I saw tears prick Ben’s eyes. I placed my hands on his chest, “Ben, you’re going to be an amazing father. You just have to let us in. Don’t push us away and always remember there is nothing you could ever do that will make us not love you. Hell, even after you slept with that woman I was still in love with you.” 

I stepped closer to Ben, “I still love you, Ben. So much. This baby, our baby is going to be loved and grow up strong like you are. You’re worthy of love and so much more.”

Ben pulled me close to his chest and held me tight. “How did I get so lucky to have your love? I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry I made you ever feel unloved and unwanted.” The tears that had pricked his eyes were starting to fall. 

I’d never seen him cry and my heart ached. I reached up and wiped his tears away with my thumbs. “Ben, you’re here now and that’s what matters. Don’t ever do that again or we (I placed my hand on my stomach) will kick your ass.” 

He chuckled, “I wouldn’t think of it. This, us, our baby, is all I’ll ever need. I made not saying I love you an art, but with you I never want to miss the chance to say it again. “I love you, Y/N. Now and forever.” “I love you too, Ben. Now and forever.”

Tags are open, if you want to be added or removed, let me know.  

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[doumadono]

sorry if this sounds rude 😢 but you haven’t been posting a lot of stories lately and that’s like the only thing you have to do? just post something it’s not that big of a deal? dygwim? i think fanfic writers especially on the anime side like to exaggerate things too much and if you don’t post then just deactivate? there’s no point in staying if you’re not gonna do anything but reblog silly content all the time? i don't understand how so many ppl can follow you when you are not even trying to be grateful and you only write not what people request but what you find interesting (which is not, like vampier Shigaraki???? viking Dabi???? so silly stupid ideas imo 😒)? whoever finds your writing or you as a person nice is either blind or stupid. and even if you write something chaptered it takes you literally months to update which isn't fair to people?? but I guess you don't care at all. you must be a freaking entitled white woman to treat otherz the way you do.

(again sorry, didn't mean to sound rude) 😔

When I first read your message, I was completely speechless for a minute or two, anon.

Firstly, it seems there’s a misconception about what fanfiction writers, or any creative individuals for that matter, have to do. Let me clarify something important: creativity isn’t a tap that one can simply turn on and off at will. It’s a complex, often unpredictable process that cannot be rushed without compromising the integrity and quality of the work. Quality stories often require research, plotting, editing, and revising before they’re ready to share. My creative process isn’t a fast food joint, nonnie, and I'm not here to serve up reheated ideas just to fill the silence.

My blog belongs to no one but me. I post what I want, when I want. As for the content of my stories, I believe every writer has the right to explore subjects that excite them the most - even if that means delving into topics or settings others may find odd, like vampires or vikings. My goal is to write stories I’m passionate about and then offer them freely to anyone who might find them entertaining. Some people will, others won’t, and that’s absolutely okay.

Contrary to your belief, I don't exist solely to churn out stories at the speed you dictate. I write on my own time and for my own pleasure. The notion that I should be a content machine is, frankly, laughable. Writing takes time, creative energy, and often real-life circumstances can slow the process. I post when I’m ready, and if that doesn’t align with your desired schedule, you’re free to unfollow or seek out other writers who update more frequently. Suggesting I deactivate because I’m not constantly posting or because I reblog content I enjoy is dismissive at best. I'm not a streaming service like Netflix, darling🙄

Calling me an entitled white woman or implying I’m ungrateful crosses a line. You know nothing of my background or personal circumstances, and bringing race or entitlement into the conversation is neither accurate nor constructive. My ethnicity or personal identity, whatever it may be, does not diminish the value of my creative output, nor does it affect my commitment to my followers. I appreciate every person who visits my page - whether they come to enjoy what I reblog, to read stories I post or to offer critique.

It's also laughable that you think my followers are stupid. Just because their tastes don't align with yours doesn't make them any less intelligent. Diversity in fandoms exists because creativity resonates differently with everyone, something you seem incapable of recognizing.

In the end, I won’t apologize for taking the time I need to create or for following my own interests - that’s part of being a writer. I do, however, expect basic respect in return. If you can’t extend that courtesy, I hope you'll block me, step away from my blog, and never interact with any of my content again.

With all this in mind, it's precisely why I've stopped taking regular requests. Last year, I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of requests and the rudeness in many messages, pushing me to my limits. That's why I've decided to concentrate on my own projects and only accept commissioned work.

I'm taking a few days off to gather my thoughts and concentrate on my writing projects.

[in1-nutshell]

Can I request tfp Megatron having a bot buddy for a son who unlike Ophelia is ruthless and is loyal to the deception cause? And leads the deceptions when Megatron is absent, he is also friends with dreading and breakdown, also at times says says puns when the opportunity arrives, and he would do anything to see cybertron be born a new.

Adding another child on Megatron's list of kids I see.

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy who is Megatron's son

SFW, Platonic, Angst, Mention of injuries, Cybertronian reader

TFP

Megatronus met Buddy under less than likely circumstances.

The gladiator was waiting for his usual medics to come and fix him up.

Noticing the medic being much later than usual, he asked a drone where the medic was.

The drone said nothing and continued doing his work.

The door soon swung open with a youngling struggling to carry his med kit.

Megatronus blinked a bit, not sure if the loss of energon was making him see things. The youngling happily walked up the monstrous size of a mech. Buddy: “Hi! I’m Buddy! Big fan of your work Megatronus!” The gladiator winced a bit at the loudness in the younglings voice. The youngling noticed and gave him a sheepish smile. Buddy: “Sorry! Its just an honor to be even here, much more helping you get back on your pedes.” He quickly started work on the battered frame, and quite efficiently too. Megatronus: “Aren’t you a bit too young to be here in the Pits?” Buddy: “With the prices of energon going up, this was the only job I could get without much background check. Yeah, they pay a bit cheaper and there’s plenty of mechs that love to push a small bot like me around, but at least its better than working in the waste pits!” Megatronus: “Waste pits?” Buddy: “Yeah, hot, steamy, and smells horrific. Its much better up here! Oh! What do you call a computer that showed up late to work? A hard drive!” Megatronus: “…What—” Buddy: “Don’t worry I got a whole bunch more!”

Megatronus didn’t think he would see the youngling again.

But low and behold the next time he was sent to the med bay, the youngling was sitting there with a big grin.

Buddy always seemed to go on and on about the most random things during his repairs.

Megatronus didn’t mind it too much.

It was annoying at first, but he soon saw an extremely passionate youngling.

The gladiator asked where he knew how to repair a bot.

Buddy bashfully mentioned having watched and spied on a medic in one of the run down clinic for a while.

Soon enough his servos were moving just as fast as the medics and he was able to study some old medical data pads.

The rest came from patching up many of his friends in the alleys.

At the mention of alley’s Megatronus offered to share his living quarters with Buddy.

A proposal that surprised him and Buddy.

The youngling accepted after a couple of days, claiming it would be better to stay so he could get to work early.

Both mechs know it was a lie but said nothing about it.

Soon enough the small medic, the youngling who barely came up to Megatronus’s knee, began following him around the gladiators’ quarters.

There was a bit of a ruckus amongst some of the other fighters, mainly with the ones who thought it was a good idea to mess with the youngling.

Megatronus made sure to take care of that problem.

The other fighters soon found themselves caring for the young medic as well.

Of course, it was just because he could patch them up after hours and nothing more.

Yeah, nothing more…

Megatronus: “Soundwave, have you seen Buddy?” He pauses seeing Buddy sitting on the gladiator’s shoulder. Buddy: “Hey Megatronus! I got a new joke! What did the sparkling call his father? Data!” Megatronus: “…” Soundwave: “…” Soundwave starts running with Buddy. Megatronus: “Soundwave you already have the minicons, bring back Buddy!” Soundwave: “Never!” Buddy: “WWWEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!”

Yes, Uncle Soundwave was one of Buddy’s favorite uncles amongst the new gladiator family forming.

He was the one who finally persuaded Megatronus to finally give Buddy some tips on self-defense.

Both gladiators were surprised with how quickly the youngling took to fighting and steely determination to finish a fight.

But Buddy’s favorite Uncles had to be Orion Pax.

He just loved being in the archives with him whenever he was able to go out.

Orion loved seeing the light shine in Buddy’s optics when he would read out loud.

Orion: “Buddy, this is a dear friend of mine.” Ratchet walks through the door making Buddy’s optics go wide. Buddy: “You’re that medic in deadend!” Ratchet: “Um, how do you know—” Buddy: “I used to watch you all the time!” Optimus and Ratchet: “…” Buddy: “… I should have phrased that better…”

Ratchet was a bit touched and creeped out that this youngling saw him at practice and decided to heal bots as well.

Gave Buddy a new med kit on one visit, neither he or Orion were aware that a youngling could practically pour out joy.

Megatronus wasn’t jealous.

Not at all…

It was an unspoken thing between Buddy and Megatronus.

The gladiator did his best to protect the youngling and provide, while Buddy looked up to him as a role model.

… then came that fateful day at the Senate.

Buddy tried sneaking into the building, but there was just too much security to rick it.

He remembered Megatronus storming out of the building with a fire in his optics that he had never seen before.

The youngling followed closely behind.

Soon enough the war had started.

Conisidentially, it was around this time Buddy had a growth spurt.

Almost overnight, Buddy went from about Megatron’s knee, to skyrocketing to being a helm shorter than him.

A bit of an insult if you asked Buddy.

He was the same height as his Uncl—as Optimus Prime.

Something that Megatron noticed as well.

His training only increased since the start of the war.

No more were the days of the purpose being for self-defense, now being taught to mercilessly offline a bot.

The youngling medic was no more.

Now replaced with a Decepticon who haunted the nightmares of many Autobot who ever came across his path.

He hated the look of fear in their optics.

He hated it, just as much as he hated training days.

Megatron did not hold back during ‘training’, if he could call it that anymore.

At this point Buddy was just another punching bag for his father to use.

Something he gladly took on.

If Buddy, the next heir for the Decepticon’s, couldn’t handle a few punches, what message would that send out to everyone else?

Besides, someone had to take the hits, and he refused to have a teammate take the brunt.

They have their burdens to carry, this was simply his too bare.

Buddy barely manages to stand up right. Today’s training was rougher than usual. Dreadwing and Skyquake turn around the corner. Buddy tries standing up straighter. Buddy: “Greetings Dreadwing. You just got back?” Dreadwing: “Buddy you’re hurt.” The blue and green mech go to the younger cons side and help him stand. Buddy: “Just got back from fighting, nothing to worry about.” Skyquake: “This doesn’t look like nothing.” The twins begin to walk Buddy to the med bay. Buddy: “I can walk there by myself.” Dreadwing: “Tell me that the next time you have a hole near your tanks.” Buddy: “… Hey Dreadwing… why did the computer go to the doctor?” Dreadwing: “Buddy not now—” Buddy: “It had a bad case of ‘data’ entry.” Dreadwing and Skyquake try smothering a chuckle and opt to bringing their friend to the med bay.

Of course, at that time, not many cons knew about the extensive training.

Not until Buddy was permanently stationed to be a part of the Nemesis crew.

While Buddy rarely screamed or yelled anymore, the harsh sounds of metal on metal still rung through the ship.

Training that often-left Buddy barely crawling on the floor.

Soundwave and Breakdown soon became accustomed to helping the younger con back to the med bay.

Soundwave hated this.

Starscream was just waiting for Megatron to offline Buddy to eliminate the competition.

Once Buddy became temporary Leader of the Decepticon’s, the first thing he did was call back all offensive troops.

Something controversial, but there was not much those mechs could do but complain.

Buddy had the final word.

Soon enough, he tried to contact Optimus Prime to do peace negotiations.

Buddy had enough of this year’s long war and was sure that the bots were tired as well.

He never received anything back before Megatron came back.

Buddy: “Welcome back father.” Megatron: “Buddy.” Megatron turns to Starscream. Megatron: “Starscream, show me what has become of my army.” Buddy: “father I am more than qualified to—” Megatron: “Did I ask for your thoughts?” Buddy quiets a bit. Buddy: “… No sir.” Megatron: “You may speak when I tell you to.” Megatron walks away with Starscream. The Second in Command sneaking in a satisfactory grin before paying full attention to his Lord. Breakdown and Knockout come to Buddy’s side. Breakdown: “You okay kid?” The Ex-Wrecker gently pries Buddy’s clenched servo open. Buddy vents deeply. Buddy: “I’m fine Breakdown… everything will be fine…” He forces a smile. Buddy: “Breakdown, why did the computer start squeaking?” Knockout: “Buddy no—” Breakdown: “Why?” Buddy: “Because someone was stepping on its mouse.” Breakdown: “What’s a mouse?”

[earlycuntsets]

tech reviews from ray toro on mychemicalromance.com 2009

"Jailbreak your shit.

Bob, I feel your iPhone pain. Ever since my iPhone threw itself into the toilet, it hasn't been the same. Missed calls, no service, crap battery life, the list of muck-ups goes on.

I've been wanting to go to the Apple store to try and exchange my suicidal phone, but knew i'd be greeted by the same smugness and uppity attitude you dealt with. Every time I step foot in that store, I feel like they're doing me a favor selling me their plain aluminum products and their white earbuds. I think I bought a pair of earbuds, and inside the package was an extra pair of them crap buds.

Angry at the lack of basic functions on the iPhone, and wanted to stick it back to the man, so I did the only thing a sane man would do...I jailbroke the thing.

For those who don't know what this is, basically you're "freeing" your phone from Jobs' shackles. Now I can copy and paste, personalize the theme on my phone, record movies, answer texts without constantly having to switch programs, search my emails, run programs in the background, send pictures in texts, quickly change settings without going through a million menus, play NES games, save Youtube videos, the list goes on. The crowning jewel is when I used my cell connection on the phone to download an e-book before a flight.

This shit is fun, and now I feel the iPhone lives up to it's pricetag. Do a search for quickpwn to get started, install winterboard, backgrounder, pdanet, sbssettings, and whatever else catches your eye. Most of all, enjoy your new found freedom."

"Ray's favorite iPhone apps

Whether you're a Blackberry man or iPhone (wo)man, you gotta admit the App store is pretty rad. I've been using the iPhone for a good while now, and have come to rely on a few apps that make my daily life easier, keep me busy while driving (yeah I know its illegal, sue me), and suck up any remaining free time I might have left in a day. Here's a short list of stuff you should check out if you're so inclined...

1. Pocketmoney ($9.99) Not only does the app's icon make me think of delicious pork bacon, it also helps to keep your money straight. You can set up checking and savings account, and keep a running ledger of your spending so you don't have any more of those all-too familiar, embarrassing moments where you're trying to buy a bag of cheetos and a Quik but don't have any loot left on your card. Yeah, I know what you're probably thinking right now. "I have a perfectly good paper register the bank gave me when I signed up for my checking account, and that shit cost me $0.00." To that I say, "But your register doesn't have a sick ass pig icon!"

2. NetNewsWire (The world is going to end soon FREE as fuck!) This program is great! You know when you're having an important conversation with your wife about what you're making for dinner that week, and she's trying to write out a shopping list, and all you can think about is the latest post on Gizmodo detailing what GHZ the new intel iCore7 processor tops out at after overclocking with Nitroglycerin? Yeah, that happens to me too...Well now instead of just thinking about it, you can take out your iPhone in mid-conversation, pissing off your wife in the process, and read all the latest RSS feeds that you can stand. It even works for our site too! Huzzah!

3. Super Monkey Ball (I paid $9.99 for this??? I'm a sucker) Ok, I bought this because it was the #1 app for weeks straight. It had to be good right??? RIGHT? Well its not. I mean it has good graphics, but the controls suck. They really, really suck. Driving your dad's Nova after ingesting 10 beers at the college kegger, trying to balance a tall glass of Sunny D on your head while headbanging to Stone Cold Crazy is exponentially easier than controlling this mess. After maybe 5 tries playing the game proper, I decided it'd be much more fun to send Baby and Gongon repeatedly and utterly to their death. I hate this game. But it sure is a great time waster...

And there you have it. Three essential iPhone apps! Have fun, be safe, and Happy Thanksgiving!"

02/25/2009 12:39pm mychemicalromance.com 2009

[blkkizzat]

I've been holding this in for a while but the latest "lets flood the x reader tags with posts complaining about what writers write" has pmo to my limit. allow me this please and i will put the rest under the cut...

for the love of god please stop calling people on tumblr, especially smut writers/enjoyers, 'porn addicts' because you sound like an uneducated, highly sheltered, dumbfuck.

i'm sorry but you sound slow and like you have zero life experience. and it seriously makes me question if you are a minor hiding behind an 18/19 age tag. (because it is always y'all especially saying this).

do y'all know what addicts are? have you ever had an addict of anything in your life? do you know what that entails?

What IS a porn addiction.

being an addict means your entire life is centered around your addiction.

it means your work, school, home and general relationships with everyone in your life is being negatively affected by this addiction

It means if you are driving/taking public transport, you watching porn.

out with friends or dinner with family? you're sneaking away to consume porn or reading smut.

At work/school, you watch or read in the background (think of all the stories of kanye west in adidas boardroom meetings literally having porn playing in the background while they discuss shoes... insanity and i can only imagine the amount of paperwork HR had to do to ensure no one would gets sued).

Overall, you are constantly consumed by the urges to consume smut/porn and its the main priority in your life. THAT is addiction.

What is NOT a porn addiction:

It's not after a long stressful day of work, school, and just surviving in this fucked up world (especially if you support yourself 100% and pay bills) wanting to decompress and escape by writing, consuming or enjoying smut/hentai/porn about fictional characters.

hell it ain't even a porn addiction if to fall asleep or decompress you need to self-soothe rub one out to it at night to relax to smut or hentai or porn links.

It's more of a reflection of a fucked up world who majority of people are so stressed because they can barely afford a living or have no access to mental health services, let alone medicines, or maybe they have all that but they also are just trying to exist in a country that either wants to take all their rights away or see them d3@d. it could be literally anything that causes them stress and they just want some relief and endorphins. that is not an addiction. sure its not the solution to their issues, but its helping them get by and they are perfectly functional without consuming porn.

now COULD there be some people on this app who do have porn addictions? Sure, but those aren't the people you know about who are taking the time to write fics, or engage with others or be apart of the community. they are likely just blank accounts liking/reblogging so they can just binge all day.

and low key the once or twice i did see someone say "they had a porn addiction" they literally just sounded like the actual root of the issue was depression and using smut/porn as an avoidance to dealing with issues. BUT it didn't quite qualify as an addiction because they were easily able to disengage cold turkey and not have it negatively effect them when they did decide it was getting to be unhealthy. thats also not an addiction, maybe heading towards it but not there yet. addiction means dependency you dont have a dependency if you are able to give it up easily.

wanna hear about someone who actually had a porn addiction i've personally seen? so storytime...

i've worked in media most of my career. at one point i worked for the mouse's sports company (think about it lol should be obvious). for orientation i was flown out to big HQ. everyone is given a tour of the facilities where they film everything at. also we saw behind the scenes. you know in tv/movies you see those dark rooms where producers/editors sit during a live broadcast? those rooms. so at this company they allow people to see into those rooms without disturbing them (as they could be live on air) as there is a dark one way type of mirror so you can see in, but they cannot see out/see hallway light that would be distracting.

one of the jobs in the production rooms at this sports company is a sports analyst. now this aint no easy job to get, it is probably one of the hardest jobs in the entire company to get, harder than executive interviews, as they open applications once a year and there is probably 6K+ applicants for that ONE position. your job is to feed the sportscasters sports facts live as they are on air. 95% of what you give them has to be off the top of your head, so you literally just have to know hundreds of random sports facts and just be able to give that to them at a moments notice. its a very respected job in the company cause these guys know their shit and study sports facts for years to get this position.

so wouldn't you know one of them had a porn addiction.

on my tour, literal first day at the job, and we were walking by one of production rooms. there sitting at the back row, so the row we can see the easiest that is in front of the windowed mirror. he is literally sitting there with three monitors: whats happening live on air, random files/notes, and then hardcore porn of this woman getting fucked from all angles by like different men. He wasn't even jerking. He wasn't even looking at it. He was just doing his job like having that porn up was the most normal thing in the world, like it was a fuckin podcast lmfao. LOL our tour guide was so scandalized, she immediately rushed us away from there and phone in on her walkie talkie. (it was a kiiii though me and this other guy were trying not to laugh but i was literally in tears trying to hold it in. i think other people thought i was crying cause i was upset but it was just too funny but i had to play it off cause people got yelled at for laughing).

but the sad part is i heard later that the guy didnt even realize he had it up. that watching porn was just so normalized to him and something hed do all the time he didnt even think that he had pulled it up at work. Now he fucked up his dream job and is unemployeed with a super niche skill having to provide for his family and i think he had like 3 kids too. He'd studied 5 years straight to get that job and he blew it. THATS what addiction looks like. That's how it can utterly destroy your life. Even an addiction that is not drugs can physically destroy you can still tear apart your life.

I don't think anyone who calls people reading smut on tumblr 'porn' addicts understands that. nor do you have the proof to know what people do outside of this app to know how it is or isnt consuming their life.

this was long and alot but i needed to get his off my chest cause some of y'all really be pmo by how ridiculous you sound throwing around the term 'porn addiction' please grow tf up, quickly.

imma start blocking y'all saying it too cause regardless of your age im going to assume you are a minor cause theres no way an actual adult with any kind of education or life experience is saying this shit.

cut it tf out.

xoxo, Kali.

p.s. this also includes haters of twt porn links saying people who like/enjoy them have addiction. im callin' your dumbasses out too.