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goldfades · 21 days ago

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took 28 years of blood i was lost in / to feel loved on my own birthday / and i always felt like i's in between somethin' / like home and somewhere far away / how lucky are we? | JOE BURROW⁹

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.8k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | joe's 28th birthday!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | nothing but fluff! reader spoiling joe, very sweet cutesy joe, sweet birthday stuff, mention of batmobile (hehe), nothing else! just a sweet fic after A BENGALS WIN AND JOE'S BDAY?!?!?!?

The morning light spills through the curtains, painting the room in streaks of pale gold. It's a soft kind of brightness, the kind that coaxes you awake instead of demanding it. You stretch, limbs tangled in the warmth of the duvet, and blink up at the ceiling. There’s something about this morning—something weightier than usual, though not in a bad way.

From the corner of the room, the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafts in, warm and inviting. You glance over your shoulder, catching sight of him by the kitchen counter. Joe’s back is to you, broad shoulders relaxed as he leans down to inspect the French press. The faint scrape of a spoon echoes as he stirs the dark liquid, his movements unhurried, methodical. He doesn’t notice you watching, too caught up in whatever quiet thoughts he’s nursing.

The house feels alive in a way it doesn’t every day. Maybe it’s the sunbeam cutting across the worn hardwood floors or the faint hum of the city waking up beyond the windows. Or maybe it’s the occasion, that little detail you’ve tucked into the corner of your mind all week, waiting for the right moment to spring it on him.

Your gaze lingers on him longer than it should, tracing the familiar lines of his frame. There’s a comfort in watching him like this, grounded and steady, completely unaware of how easily he commands a room—even if the room is just your living room at 8 a.m.

"Morning," he says, without turning around. His voice is low, gravelly from sleep, and it carries over the space like a private secret meant just for you.

You don’t answer right away, still caught in the soft spell of watching him. There’s something calming about this moment—the quiet intimacy of it, the way the outside world feels distant and inconsequential. The sun keeps creeping through the curtains, stretching its fingers across the floor and brushing against the edge of the couch. The air is tinged with the faint aroma of coffee, earthy and familiar, and a trace of cinnamon—your favorite, which he always remembers.

Joe finally glances over his shoulder, eyebrows raising in faint amusement when he catches you staring. His hair is still messy, sticking up at odd angles, and a small smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "What?" he asks, the single word filled with a kind of knowing.

"Nothing," you say, though the slight curve of your lips betrays you. You shift under the covers but make no move to get up. The bed feels too good, too warm. And honestly, watching him feels even better.

He doesn’t push you for more. Instead, he pours the coffee, filling a pair of mismatched mugs you’d picked out together at some antique store last summer. He turns, and the sunlight catches the sharp line of his jaw, the faint shadow of stubble along his cheeks. He crosses the room with the easy, unhurried strides that always make him seem so at ease, like he knows exactly where he’s going and he’s in no rush to get there.

“Here,” he says, handing you a mug. The ceramic feels solid and warm in your hands, a tangible connection to the morning and to him. The smell hits you first, rich and slightly spiced, and it’s impossible not to smile.

“You didn’t have to,” you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

He raises an eyebrow as he sinks into the bed beside you, one arm propped casually on his knee. “You say that every morning. I always do.”

You sip the coffee, savoring the taste as much as the moment. “I’m just saying you’re spoiling me.”

“Someone has to,” he quips, his tone light, but the way his gaze softens when it meets yours says something else entirely. Something quieter, deeper.

Outside, the world begins to stir—the faint sound of car engines starting up, distant chatter from the street below—but here, in this little pocket of time, it’s just the two of you. The morning stretches ahead, open and full of possibilities, and though neither of you has said it aloud yet, you both know today isn’t just any day.

But he doesn’t mention it, not yet. And you don’t either. For now, the moment is enough. The quiet warmth, the way his knee brushes yours when he shifts closer, the way his smile lingers long after his lips have stopped moving. It’s unspoken, but it’s there, humming in the air between you.

“Big plans today?” you ask, your tone teasing, though you’re careful not to give too much away.

He leans back against the headboard, mug in hand, and shrugs with that easy charm that drives you a little crazy. “Depends. What do you have in mind?”

You take another sip of coffee, letting the question hang there for a moment. There’s something in his eyes, a flicker of curiosity, of anticipation, like he’s trying to piece together what you’re hiding. But you don’t give him the satisfaction. Not yet.

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” you say, your voice lilting with mischief.

Joe chuckles, low and rumbling, and the sound warms you more than the coffee ever could. “You’re not gonna make this easy, are you?”

You grin, setting your mug down on the nightstand and tucking your legs beneath you. “Where’s the fun in that?”

The day is only just beginning, but the promise of it, the weight of what it means, hangs between you like a thread waiting to be pulled. For now, though, you’ll let him wonder.

You set your mug down with exaggerated care, the ceramic clinking softly against the nightstand. Then, before he can react, you grab his free hand and tug, your fingers wrapping around his as you pull him toward the bed.

“C’mon, old man,” you tease, grinning as you lean back into the pillows, dragging him closer. “Shouldn’t you be resting those ancient bones on your big day?”

Joe raises an eyebrow, a look of mock offense flashing across his face as he lets you pull him down beside you. “Old man? Really? I’m in my prime.”

You laugh, a bright sound that fills the space between you, and it’s contagious. He shakes his head, his shoulders shaking with laughter as he stretches out next to you, one arm slipping beneath your head to cradle it while his other hand rests against your side.

“Prime, huh?” you shoot back, narrowing your eyes playfully. “What’s next? Are you gonna start talking about your glory days?”

Joe smirks, his grin boyish and disarming as he props himself up on one elbow to look at you. “My glory days? You mean like yesterday, when I carried four bags of groceries up your stairs without breaking a sweat? Or last week, when I beat you at cards? Again?”

You roll your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you. “If those are your highlights, we really do have a problem, Grandpa.”

His laugh rumbles low in his chest, and he pulls you closer, his body relaxing fully into the mattress. There’s something about the way he looks at you in moments like this—completely at ease, the weight of the world slipping from his shoulders—that makes you feel like you’ve won some small, unspoken victory.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His touch is light, affectionate. “I hope you’re planning to make up for all this slander later.”

“Oh, I am,” you say, your tone light and teasing, though the weight of your plans makes the words feel like a secret between you and the universe. You poke his chest with your finger, your voice dropping into a mock-conspiratorial whisper. “But for now, I’m just here to remind you of your mortality.”

Joe groans dramatically, flopping onto his back with a hand over his heart. “Twenty-eight and apparently on my deathbed. Thanks for the support.”

You laugh again, turning on your side to face him. “Hey, I’m just trying to keep you humble.”

He tilts his head toward you, his grin softening into something quieter, warmer. “You keep me humble every day,” he says, and though it’s said with a laugh, the sincerity lingers between the lines.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The quiet hum of the city outside fills the space, mingling with the steady rhythm of your breathing. Then, Joe shifts, his eyes narrowing with faux suspicion. “You do have plans, don’t you?”

You smirk, shrugging noncommittally. “Maybe.”

“Big plans?”

“Could be.”

“Are you gonna tell me?”

You lean forward, your voice dropping into a playful murmur as your lips brush close to his ear. “Not a chance.”

He groans, falling back against the pillows, but the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth gives him away. “Fine,” he says, crossing his arms like he’s giving up. “But I’m warning you—if it’s a surprise party, I’m not wearing a stupid hat.”

You burst out laughing, and he grins, watching you like he’s already won. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” you say, echoing his words from earlier.

Joe sighs dramatically, but the look in his eyes tells you he doesn’t mind waiting. Not when it’s you, and not when the morning feels this perfect.

The day unfolded with an easy rhythm, the kind that made you wonder why time always felt faster when you were with him. After a lazy morning filled with playful banter and too many cups of coffee, the two of you ventured out into the crisp autumn air, hand in hand. Joe, dressed in a hoodie and a backward cap, still managed to draw a few stares—though whether it was because of his status or the magnetic way he carried himself, you couldn’t tell.

“Alright,” he said as the two of you pulled up to the auto shop. “Explain to me again why we’re here.”

You smirked, slipping out of the car before he could protest further. “Because,” you called over your shoulder, “every Batmobile needs an upgrade. Isn’t that what you said last week?”

Joe groaned, trailing after you. “I was joking.”

“No, you weren’t.”

Inside, the shop smelled of motor oil and rubber, the kind of place Joe could spend hours in without realizing it. His eyes lit up as he scanned the shelves of parts and accessories, the familiar excitement bubbling under his cool exterior. And while he tried to act casual, you caught the way his fingers lingered on a particularly sleek steering wheel or the latest sound system display.

When the cashier rang up the parts, Joe turned to you, eyebrows raised in alarm as you handed over your card.

“Absolutely not,” he said, reaching for his wallet.

“Too late,” you replied, grinning as you tapped the card against the reader.

“Seriously, let me—”

“Joe,” you interrupted, stepping closer, your voice teasing but firm. “Consider it part of your birthday present. Relax.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly torn between gratitude and indignation. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re welcome,” you shot back, linking your arm through his as you headed for the door.

The afternoon slipped by in a blur of laughter and little moments. He drove you through quiet streets, the windows cracked just enough to let the crisp breeze in.

By the time dinner rolled around, the two of you were comfortably buzzed on the high of a perfect day. Joe had picked the restaurant—a cozy spot with low lighting and a menu he couldn’t stop raving about. The moment the check landed on the table, he lunged for it with an intensity that made you laugh out loud.

“Absolutely not,” he said, holding the little black folder like it was a football in the fourth quarter. “You’re done spending money on me today.”

“Fine, fine,” you relented, throwing up your hands in mock surrender. “But only because I’m full and too lazy to argue.”

He grinned triumphantly, tossing his card inside. “Smart choice.”

But the best part of the day came later, under the glow of a thousand tiny lights strung across a rooftop you’d rented out just for the occasion.

The surprise had been months in the making. A customized outdoor simulator setup—something Joe had mentioned in passing once, half-joking, as he raved about his favorite quarterbacks' training techniques. The space was equipped with everything he could need: targets, virtual reality tech, and even a mini field marked out for drills.

When you led him up the stairs, he paused at the door, eyeing you with suspicion. “What’s going on?”

“Just open it,” you said, biting your lip to keep from grinning.

When he stepped inside, his jaw dropped. For the first time all day, Joe looked genuinely stunned, his usual calm composure giving way to a wide-eyed, boyish excitement.

“No way,” he said, stepping forward as his eyes darted between the setup and you. “This is—how did you even—”

You shrugged, trying to downplay it even though your heart was racing. “You’ve been talking about something like this forever. Figured it was about time you had it.”

He turned to you then, and the look on his face was enough to make all the planning worth it.

“This is incredible,” he said, his voice softening. Then, without warning, he pulled you into a tight hug, lifting you off the ground slightly. “You’re incredible.”

As Joe stood there, still processing the grand surprise, he turned to you with a look so full of gratitude and awe that it stole your breath. Then, without a word, he closed the distance between you, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you—fiercely, passionately, like the world had slipped away and it was just the two of you.

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, his grin was dazzling. “You’re unbelievable,” he murmured, his voice low and full of affection. Before you could respond, he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you effortlessly.

“Joe!” you squealed, laughing as he spun you around, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist for balance. The room blurred around you, the lights twinkling like something out of a movie.

He laughed too, the sound rich and unrestrained, as if the weight of his world had completely lifted. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that?” he said, his tone light but his words sincere.

The night transformed into something magical as the two of you got lost in the moment, leaving everything else behind. Time felt like an afterthought, the hours slipping by unnoticed as you stayed wrapped up in each other. The setup went untouched, forgotten in favor of kisses and kind of closeness that made the world feel smaller, more intimate.

It wasn’t until nearly midnight that the two of you finally left the room, your cheeks flushed and his hair a little messier than before. The night ended the way it began—just the two of you, completely in sync.

As the night finally settled and Joe lay beside you, his arm draped possessively over your waist, you could feel the weight of the day melting off both of you. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated his features—relaxed, content, and so deeply at peace it made your heart ache.

“Today was perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion but warm with sincerity.

You smiled, running your fingers lazily through his hair. “You deserved it, Joey. Every second of it.”

His eyes fluttered shut, but he wasn’t done talking. Sleep was tugging at him, pulling him under, but he fought it just enough to keep the words coming.

“I don’t… don’t know how I got so lucky,” he muttered, his words slurring slightly. “You—you're amazing, you know that? Like, actually amazing. The best girlfriend ever.”

You chuckled softly, leaning closer. “Go to sleep, birthday boy.”

But he shook his head weakly, his lips twitching into a half-smile. “No, I mean it. You do all this stuff for me, and I don’t… I don’t say it enough. I’m grateful for you. For this. For us.”

His hand tightened slightly on your waist, as if grounding himself in your presence. “Don’t know what I’d do without you. Probably... drive the Batmobile into a tree or something.”

You laughed quietly, but he didn’t notice—his words were becoming more disjointed, softer.

“You’re the best thing... ever happened to me,” he murmured, barely audible now. “Love you so much, baby. So much.”

And then, just like that, he was asleep, his breathing evening out, his body completely relaxed against yours. And as Joe fell asleep beside you, his arm draped protectively over your waist and a contented smile still playing on his lips, you could tell he wasn’t thinking about football or fame. He was thinking about you.

You stayed awake a little longer, your hand resting lightly on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His sleepy ramblings replayed in your mind, each word wrapping around your heart like a warm blanket.

For him, 28 wasn’t just another year. It was the beginning of something even better—and it had everything to do with the way you made his world brighter.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#joe burrow #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fan fic #joeyb #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow smut #joe shiesty #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x you #joe burrow x oc #bengals lb #joey b #cincinnati football #Spotify

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thesecretsofthedivine · 1 year ago

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Pick a Pile Reading | Messages From Your Future Spouse 💍🪐

Business Carrd 🍶🧺

Paid Services 🍇⭐

Tip Jar 🍾🎱

*Disclaimer: This is a collective reading - take what resonates and leave the rest. If this resonates with you, please show support by reposting (with credit), tipping, or booking with me! :)

*Exchanges with other intuitives/readers are available via dm's

──────

PILE 1 COLLECTIVE

• I love the sound of your laughter.

• You’ve turned me into a more carefree person.

• Let’s spend the day baking/cooking then heading right back to bed to cuddle!

• I feel like we could never have enough quality time together.

• You’re my favorite person in the world.

• I’m addicted to your scent.

• We should start a family (🐾/👶).

• You’re my lock screen.

• I tell all my friends about you. If you checked my notifications, all you’d see is a group chat roasting me for how obsessed I am with you.

• There is no place I’d rather be than here with you in my arms.

• I like to watch you sleep. You just seem so peaceful and still that it’s intensely captivating. I hope you don’t mind 😵‍💫.

~ miscellaneous: earth sign placements. homebodies. 2 introverts or an introvert & an extrovert. hard-working, masculine qualities in your spouse. wholesome domestic moments.

PILE 2 COLLECTIVE

• I want to drown in the sea of your existence.

• Dedicating poetry and art to you — my favorite muse.

• There is nothing in the world that I wouldn’t give to have more time with you.

• I’m afraid of loss/dying, but entering old age with you would make my existence complete.

• Please don’t leave me.

• Can I wake you up early if I’m craving your attention? It’s hard for me to contain my excitement when you look this beautiful/attractive.

• Let’s watch the sunset together and stay up late talking for hours.

• Every detail of your existence does not go unnoticed by me.

• We were meant to love each other in this life/I know that we are past life lovers who have found one another again.

• Come on, baby. Don’t be shy with me.

~ miscellaneous: water sign placements (especially scorpio or for their moon sign). 2 night owls or a night owl & a morning person. hozier songs. romantic moments caught on camera/posted online. artist x muse trope.

PILE 3 COLLECTIVE

• You light me on fire with desire.

• I love teasing you more than anything else in the world.

• You’re my best friend and lover, all wrapped into one.

• My heart feels warm and glows from the inside whenever you’re around.

• I can’t lose you. If I do, I’ll go crazy.

• Let’s go for a drive, listen to music, eat food, and forget about our worries.

• I want to be the first person you call when you’re in trouble.

• I will never judge you.

• We will travel everywhere and make the world our own.

• I want to surprise you with grand gestures (especially via gifts or shared experiences).

~ miscellaneous: fire sign placements. ready or not — bridgit mendler. sneaky smirks that make you smile uncontrollably. spontaneous memories or communication. fluffy hair & tan skin features for some.

PILE 4 COLLECTIVE

• Pulling out all my best jokes just for you.

• Give me a nickname and I’ll give you one back.

• How can I possibly deny your charm?!

• Your style is impeccable. Every time we’re in a shop together, I just want to watch you pose in front of the mirror.

• I’ll make you homemade snacks and share my family’s recipes with you!

• Spoiling you with acts of service.

• We don’t even have to speak to understand one another. Mere eye contact is enough.

• You bring out my (good) crazy side 🤪.

• I love how we can always bounce off each other’s energies so well.

• I wanna give you expensive jewelry or items with my initials on it.

~ miscellaneous: air sign placements. a quirky sense of humor. distinct eyebrows. friends to lovers trope (Monica & Chandler came to mind). latin/hispanic backgrounds for some.

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itpemod · 3 months ago

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It's late September and that means #ITPE sign-ups are OPEN 🎉🎉🎉 Links will be at the end, so please read through the post as we have a lot of new information/procedures this year!

This is the FOURTEENTH year of the exchange, but the FIRST year we will be hosting it on Tumblr, which was far and away the winner in our platform move survey. Happily, this means we get to keep our acronym and branding!

What is #ITPE?

#ITPE is a low-pressure, no-minimums podfic exchange that originated on Twitter. We are now on Tumblr because of Twitter’s…everything, since it was bought by the Muskrat. Everything–sign-ups, communication, assignment/gift distribution–used to be run entirely on Twitter, but as the exchange has grown, we’ve incorporated other platforms to help make our lives as mods easier. Consequently, sign-ups will be on AO3 and submissions of your finished gifts (when it comes time for them) will be via Google form. Otherwise all communication, including announcements, questions, assignment and gift delivery, will be conducted over Tumblr and instant messaging.

Who are the mods?

Our mod line-up is @blackestglass (blackglass) & @knight-tracer, with flowersforgraves assisting on the backend with data management.

What is the schedule?

The dates for #ITPE 2024 are:

Sign-ups: SEPTEMBER 21 - SEPTEMBER 29

Assignments go out: No later than OCTOBER 8

Projects due: DECEMBER 17

Distribution: DECEMBER 24

So long as it's still September 29 somewhere in the world, you can still sign-up.

How do I sign up?

We are continuing to run sign-ups through AO3 (without a nominations process, so just write in your fandoms). We are asking for a minimum of 3 unique fandoms and if you want to sign-up to give or receive more than 20 fandoms, pick your TOP 20 for the AO3 and put the rest in your Dear Podficcer Letter. If you have less than 20 fandoms, we encourage you to list all of your primary and secondary fandoms in the sign up form so we have options for matching!

Note: We consider certain RPF fandoms as “umbrella” fandoms. We know we have K-Pop podficcers and sports RPF podficcers who often sign up for our exchange. Individual K-Pop bands and individual sports/sports teams do not count as “unique” fandoms (so for instance, only listing SHINee, BTS, and A-Teez would not count as having 3 unique fandoms for sign-up purposes; for our purposes, they would all fall under the K-Pop umbrella). In addition to listing your favorite bands/sports/teams in the fandom field, we do ask you to help us out for matching by thinking of at least 2 other fandoms which you might be happy to give and receive in. The RPF podficcing pool is small and we try not to repeat matches within a 5-year period, so giving us more fandom options will help us find you a match.

What is a Dear Podficcer letter?

Your Dear Podficcer letter should include stuff like squicks, triggers, ship and trope preferences, and anything else you think we & your gift giver should know regarding your fandom tastes. Letters are mandatory. They don't have to be long! But if you have extremely specific tastes, it’s better that you let us know upfront in your letter so that we can ensure that you receive a gift you’re happy with. Please don’t worry about seeming “difficult”! We want you to love the gift you receive! Also, do feel free to request your small, obscure fandoms! Just help us out by also including some more popular or “mainstream” fandoms among your options.

If you’re still uncertain what a letter should look like, here are some examples from 2020: blackglass’s 2020 letter & knight_tracer’s 2020 letter. You can also check out linked letters in the “Requests Summary” on AO3 to see what other people’s letters look like!

Letters should be hosted on a publicly viewable platform, such as on Dreamwidth, tumblr, carrd, GDrive, Dropbox, etc.

Please put your Tumblr and AO3 handles (if they don’t already match) in your Dear Podficcer letter. For our sake, ideally somewhere in the title field. Toss a coin to your mod team.

Also please be kind to your mods & avoid using smushnames or cute fandom ship names in your letter. We're not always in your fandom & sometimes people will use different names to refer to the same pairing & we mistakenly believe you're requesting different pairings (see: the Zimbits/JackBitty/etc. debacle of 2020). Using Char A/Char B(/Char C) would help us out a lot! You don't have to use AO3 levels of disambiguation – just provide us with enough information to figure out who the characters involved in the ship are.

If you have specific tastes in what you want to RECEIVE in a fandom, but you’re willing to CREATE outside of those preferences (for instance, wanting to receive podfic about a specific pairing, but willing to podfic for other pairings in a fandom), please indicate that in your letter! If you want to offer or receive fandoms that aren’t currently on the AO3, or you’re one of those gutsy people that is willing to offer and create in “any fandom”, message this account and we’ll make sure it’s all recorded.

In addition, if you’re an adventurous listener who is open to RECEIVING podfic for “any fandom” please ALSO message us so that we’re aware! We still need a minimum of 3 fandoms for your sign up so that it can go through.

If you have any DNWs (“do not wants”) that you don’t want to post publicly in a letter, concerns about matching, or anything else you’d like to privately let the mods know, there’s a section in the sign up this year that you can fill out. Or you can send us a message!

How should we be communicating with you over Tumblr? We will primarily be using the instant messaging function. Therefore you will need a Tumblr account to sign up, because that’s where all communication and assignment/gift delivery will take place. It’s totally fine to use a placeholder account you only use for this exchange. (We do recommend adding a userpic, filling out your bio, and maybe reblogging a few posts so that you don’t seem like a bot.) All participants should be following the mod account, especially if you have restricted settings so that only people you follow can message you. The instant messaging system, unlike the ask system, allows us to maintain a record of our communications, and is the best way to share information you want to keep private between us or have extended conversations. You may use asks if you have a one-off question or questions you don’t mind getting public answers to.

(Notifications for new Tumblr messages can be finicky so try to check out the messaging tab semi-regularly throughout the duration of the exchange instead of relying on the blue dot to let you know there’s a new message.)

In an attempt to avoid tripping spam filters and hitting the Tumblr limit on sending messages to new people, we are asking you to help us out by sending us an instant message to let us know you’ve signed up, rather than us trying to reach out to dozens upon dozens of people (prime spambot behavior)!

What happens if you get marked as spam?

If we get shadowbanned/tossed in potential spambot purgatory, the mods will reach out to you from our personal accounts/mod sideblogs or via email. During the sign up period, we will reach out to you via messaging to ask you for a reliable email address to reach you at in case all of our attempts to not get flagged as spam fail.

If we are marked as spam, we’ll still be able to post on our own blog and we should still appear on your dash, but we won’t be appearing in the tags most likely, which is another reason why it’s important for you to be following us!

How does matching work? How will I get my assignment?

The mods do hand-matching, meaning rather than just letting the AO3 algorithm run and make arbitrary matches based on fandom, we read all your letters and try to match you with someone with similar tastes and interests. We’ll only be relying on the AO3 algorithm to help us spot tricky matches.

Another of the ways Tumblr combats spam is to shadowban anyone sending multiple similarly worded messages. We’re going to make an attempt to deliver extremely pared down assignment messages so that we’re mostly sending unique information. If we do get marked as spam, as mentioned earlier, we may reach out to you on sideblogs or via email.

What kind and how many gifts should I make? Do you really mean “no minimums”?

Yes, ITPE gifts have NO LENGTH MINIMUMS. Make something as big or as small as you want to commit to! We truly do mean it. This is meant to be a low pressure exchange! Accordingly, please set your expectations that you may receive a short gift. In the past, we have had participants who’ve been extremely generous and made a prolific amount of gifts for their giftee, but they are outliers and there is certainly no expectation that anyone else should strive to those heights.

I have more questions about making gifts!

We’re sure you do, but we’re not there yet! We will update this FAQ with more information about submitting gifts and treats once assignments go out, so check back!

I’m ready to sign up! What are the next steps? 1. Fill out the sign up form on AO3 here.

2. Follow us @itpemod if you haven’t yet!

3. Send us a message over the chat letting us know you’ve signed up!

4. Optional (but encouraged if you want to talk to people!): join the Tumblr Podfic Community to participate in the friending/following meme!

5. Optional: Track/follow the #itpe or #informal tumblr podfic exchange tags!

#itpe #informal tumblr podfic exchange #faq

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poohsources · 1 year ago

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🐝 * ― 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝟎𝟐𝟒: 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐄. ( not gonna lie, this originally wasn't supposed to turn into a whole new template. i was kinda just playing around with another of my templates to make something for myself and then i was making another new thing for myself and i kinda combined these two and came up with this whole thing. anyway, i guess you're not here to listen to my ramblings but to know more about the template. you can find the preview here. it's a single muse template that turned out a little more extensive than usually, including a landing and a navigation page, rules, a dossier with a separate section for skills and abilities, a biography page, verses and another page for mains. as i said, it's got a lot of things to work with, so due to the number of elements used, this template requires at least a pro lite account. if you want to upgrade feel free to use my referral code KB4W13V3. )

― HOW TO USE

please don’t claim this as your own, and don’t delete the credit. you can change it’s size or color but it should stay where it is.

of course, you can edit all the colors, sizes, fonts, etc. however you like.

to get this template please click here. it’s on a pay what you want basis so it is possible to get it for free if you set the amount to 0. ( if you’d like to leave a little tip i’d very much appreciate it, though. )

when you first open this template, it might look a little weird because carrd deletes the images i’ve used so there will only be empty spacers of sorts that may look a little out of place. just upload images and this will fix itself.

actual image sizes don’t matter since carrd scales them to fit but you can see examples of the image sizes i’ve used in the demo to get an idea for the dimensions. or just try your own and play around with the settings to get the desired outcome.

if you have any questions on how to edit it, just send me a message and i’ll try to explain it to you.

#carrd template #carrd templates #carrd rp templates #rp template #carrd #free rp resources #free rp template #rp resources #rph #type: template #type: carrd #template: single muse

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justsome-di · 2 years ago

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Now a Pulitzer Prize winning book (don’t fact check this, just trust me) and featured on Obama’s 2023 Summer Reading List!

You should be reading Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs! Why? See above.

It’s a good story if I do say so myself. And if you read it, you’re a cool kid. Don’t you want to be a cool kid? This is something called peer pressure, and it usually works.

But for real, if you read Nobody Ends Up Dead then you’re going to go on a good adventure with good characters I guarantee you will love. Not to brag, but it is a pretty good story. There’s funny one-liners, a cute plot, and relatable characters that have been developed for years. Just heed warnings at the beginning of chapters. NEUD deals with some heavy topics such as eating disorders.

NEUD is officially all online for free. But you can still access bonus chapters and short stories on Patreon for only $4.

Links:

AO3

Wattpad

Patreon (Patrons had early access to the whole novel and also get exclusive short stories with the characters and sneak peaks for new projects!)

Netflix Previews

Characters’ Playlists

You can also check out my carrd if there are any updates to how/where I post, it’ll probably be the most accurate place to find new or updated links.

Transcript under cut:

The Story is Dope

A New York office worker and a sex worker get set up on a date--one thinking it's a real blind date, the other under the impression it's an ordinary appointment. After realizing it was all a shitty prank, they set out for revenge. Their plan: show up to an upcoming Halloween office party as a genuine couple, convincing the pranksters they genuinely fell in love and refusing to let themselves become the butt of the joke.

Our main characters are Alex, an awkward admin assistant for a medical company who hasn't been on a date since he was a teenager, and Damián, a sex worker who seems way out of Alex's league but keeps insisting on spending time with him so they can perfect their revenge scheme.

The novel features a diverse cast and explores sex positivity. I also like to believe that it portrays sex work well. Damián is a hardworking man, doing what he loves, and meeting mostly great people along the way--but he also would benefit greatly if sex work was decriminalized and therefore had better resources at his disposal.

If you're looking for a story with LGBT characters that's mostly light-hearted but still packs a punch every few chapters, this is it! Overall, it's a happy story.

The Characters!

oh boy the characters!

we got Damián who's hardworking and doting on his lil bro but oh wow does he have some angst

we got Alex who is nothing more than a burning ball of anxiety trying his best--all too relatable

Leo, Damián's bro, is an ally, and he will make sure everyone knows. Also has angst.

Eve, Alex's lil sister, is an edgy teen who's failing calc and runs a queer book club

together, they're a weird lil dysfunctional family

I'll be honest. There's a lot of love in this story. From me and among the characters. The characters love each other, and I think the readers love them, too.

It touches on a lot of loneliness--inspired by how I've felt since Covid started--and a lot of the conflicting emotions that come with being gay. What happy endings do we deserve? What about happy middles?

It's a touching book about learning to be a better person and finding people who love you--platonically and romantically.

Here are some of my fave parts:

And then there was a streak of gray hair that shocked Alex. A streak of gray hair off to the side, nestled close to a salt and pepper beard. Textured hands held cocktails. Little, subtle lines creased when mouths laughed. Alex held his breath. On the packed floor, they were the only people Alex could see. They were laughing and holding each other and enjoying themselves, firmly in the place they knew they belonged. Flashes of teeth pressed against each other, disappearing for long seconds at a time.

“Sorry,” Alex said. “Your arm got heavy on top of me.” “You’re a little mouse of a man. I didn’t mean to crush you.” “I’m what?”

“A dog!” Damián cooed as he sat across from the lesbians. “His name is Yam,” Martin said.

“His name is Yam,” Damián cried. Kris and Clara released Yam and gently nudged him to Damián. Ecstatic, Damián picked him up and set him on his lap. “His name is Yam,” he repeated to Alex. “I heard.”

But he couldn’t deny that he was having a good time. It was like intense yoga with the perk of having a cock shoved up his ass. He was going to feel limber as fuck after.

“Can I do anything?” Alex asked. “To help cheer you up?”

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’d like to. If you let me.��

“Wow this sounds great where can I read it?”

Tumblr @justsome-di

Watpadd @justsome-di

Patreon @just some di (link on Tumblr)

AO3 @justsome_di

Updates every friday!

#writeblr #writblr #nobody ends up dead

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five-thousand-loaves-of-bread · 2 years ago

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what is (chronic) autistic catatonia?

// why specify “autistic” catatonia? //

catatonia most common associate with schizophrenia, but increase realize also happen in things like bipolar & depression.

if look at some of typical catatonia diagnostic criteria in DSM 5 (but in easier words): catalepsy & waxy flexibility, grimacing (hold same stiff facial movement), mutism, echolalia, echopraxia (copy movement), exaggerated mannerisms, stereotypies/repetitive movements, etc… wait! some of these things happen in autism!!! (like 7 out of total 12 can be seen in autism)

this is why important to know how recognize catatonia in autism. because overlap.

catatonia in schizophrenia most common start fast and get worse fast. but chronic autistic catatonia typically slow onset and slow but visible deterioration. (always have exceptions though)

not know a lot about schizophrenia catatonia, so this post largely focus on autism. everything below, when say “catatonia” or “autistic catatonia,” mean chronic autistic catatonia with deterioration.

// before move on— //

sometimes professionals do connect autistic shutdown with/as catatonia or catatonia episode or catatonia-like episode to draw connection. this not talk about that. this about chronic ones with deterioration. personally for community identity purpose i don’t enjoy (already have term for shutdown). but personal opinion aside, again this about the temporary vs long term all the time. if experience temporary shutdown, remember to leave space for and not same as those of us deal with chronic autistic catatonia.

important to distinguish from autism because autism and catatonia share many symptoms. (for example, physical stimming or “stereotypies” is autism diagnostic criteria AND catatonia criteria). autistic catatonia should only be suspected IF have new symptoms OR change in type & pattern of old symptoms. cannot. stress. this. enough. again. it not about IF you have these symptoms it’s about WHEN and HOW and CHANGE. it's about NEW.

and. please do not diagnose self based on one tumblr post. yes even if i do extensive research and cite sources and have lived experience. many many many disorders look similar. am all here for educated self diagnosis because medical system inequitable BUT am also sick of every time write this a bunch people comment “oh never heard this this is so me.” one tumblr post not educated self dx. it not a cool new thing to add to carrd to hoard as much medical label as can, it miserable it makes my life hell it not a joke it not cool. not every autistic have chronic catatonia, not every shutdown means chronic catatonia, even if you autistic and see these signs, may be separate unrelated disorder altogether, like Infectious, metabolic, endocrinological, neurological, autoimmune diseases, all can see catatonia (Dhossche et al, 2006). some of you all will read this and truly think this is answer been looking for so long—great! still, please do more research.

// chronic autistic catatonia with deterioration and breakdown //

the key defining symptoms of chronic autistic catatonia is gradual lose functioning and difficulty with voluntary movements (shah, 2019, p21). “gradual lose functioning” will come with regression in independence & ADLs & quality of life. it usually gradual, chronic, and complex. but can vary in severity. some need prompts on some day & some situations, while others need prompt and even physical assistance for almost everything.

how common? have seen statistic estimate from 10% - 20% of autistic people adolescents & above experience chronic autistic catatonia.

typical onset for autistic catatonia is adolescence. some study samples is 15-19, some as early as 13. some professionals think this autistic catatonia may be a reason for many autism late regression (Ghaziuddin, 2021).

can happen regardless of gender, IQ (yes shitty), “autism severity/functioning labels” (is what most studies use, so i keep, but yes have issues, probably also mean happens regardless of autism level 1/2/3 and support needs before catatonia, but need more research to confirm since these thing don’t equal eachother).

// primary symptoms //

from book "Catatonia, Shutdown and Breakdown in Autism: A Psycho-Ecological Approach" by dr amitta shah, recommend read at least first two chapter and appendix.

1. Increased slowness

often first sign but not always

periods of inactivity or immobility between actions which appears as slowness, e.g walking, responses (verbal & body), self care, mealtime, etc

2. Movement difficulties (freezing and getting stuck)

difficult initiate/start movement

freeze or become "stuck" in middle of activity for few seconds to minutes

hesitate & "to and fro" movements

difficulty cross threshold/transitions like door way

difficulty stop action/movement once started

affect speech content, fluency, & volume

eat & drink difficult (like movement for fork & knife, chewing and swallowing, etc)

spend long time in one place

(new) ritualistic behaviors

3. Movement abnormalities

repetitive movements like in tourette's & parkinsons

e.g. sudden jerky movement, tremors, involuntary movements, blinking, grimacing, unusual & uncomfortable postures, locked in postures, increase in repetitive movements, etc.

4. Prompt dependence

may not be able to do some or any movement/activity, unable to move from one place to another, unable to change posture, etc without external/outside prompt

5. Passivity and apparent lack of motivation

look unmotivated & unwilling to do stuff, include activities used to like, probably because can't do voluntary action or have trouble with request and make decison.

6. Posturing

classic catatonia symptom of being stuck in one posture, sometimes for hours

7. Periods of shutdown

8. Catatonic excitement

episodic & short lasting

e.g. uncontrollable & frenzied movement and vocalizations, sensory/perceptual distortions, aggressive & destructive outbursts that not like self

9. Fluctuations of difficulty

e.g. some days better can do more need less prompt! other days worse. sometimes emergency can act as almost like a prompt! but fluctuate doesn't mean difficulty voluntary

// secondary difficulties //

Social withdrawal and communication problems

Decline in self-help skills

Incontinence

‘Challenging’ behavior

Mobility and muscle wastage

Physical problems

Breakdown

// autism breakdown //

can be in addition to autistic catatonia. can look like autism is getting worse, even though autism by itself not progressive disorder!

i also call this autism late regression. separate between autistic catatonia & this not very clear, not enough research.

1. exacerbation of autism

1a. increased social withdrawl, isolation, avoidance of social situations

1b. increased communication difficulties

1c. increased repetitive and ritualistic behavior

2. decrease in tolerance & resilience

easily disturbed, irratable, angry

3. increase in "challenging" behaviors

e.g. self injurious behaviors

4. decrease in concentration & focus

5. decrease in engagement & enjoyment

// treatment //

for catatonia (autistic or not), typical treatment is lorazepam and/or ECT.

specific to catatonia in autism, Dhossche et al. (2006) separate it to mild/moderate/severe and give recommend treatment according to that (do not come here and argue about severity labels, because fuck! mild depression and severe depression of course have different suggested treatments and severity important to know. Remember we talk about autistic catatonia).

note: this is one paper! not the only way! yes have problems like most psych/autism papers, just here to give example (of range of symptoms and treatment route!). NOT MEDICAL ADVICE. (not even endorsement)

mild: slight impairment in social & job things without limit efficiency as a whole (essentially still able to function for most part but difficult).

moderate: more obvious struggles in all areas, but ambulatory and don't need acute medical services for feeding or vitals

severe: typically medical emergency, acute stupor, immobility for most of day, bedridden, need other people help feed. also malignant catatonia which can be life-threatening (fever, altered consciousness, stupor, and autonomic instability as evidenced by lability of blood pressure, tachycardia, vasoconstriction, and diaphoresis, whatever any of that means)

the "shaw-wing approach": very brief summary, keep person active and do thing they enjoy, use verbal & gentle physical prompts, have structure & routine.

lorazopem challenge: take 2-4 mg of lorazopem to see changes in next 2-5 minutes. if no change, another 1 mg and reassess

lorazopem trial up to 24 mg. (note difference between challenge & trial)

bilateral ECT, last resort.

mild: "shaw-wing approach" -> 2 week lorazopem trial if no imporvement in 1 month -> if effective, do both, if not, just shaw-wing approach

moderate: depends on prefernece, either shaw-wing alone or shaw-wing and 2 week lorazopem trial -> if not effective, do 2 week lorazopem trial if havent already -> if not, bilateral ECT

severe: lorazepam challenge test -> if not effective, bilateral ECT; -> if lorazopem challange positive, 1 week lorazopem trial -> continue if successful, bilateral ECT if not.

can sound extreme, but rememeber for many severe catatonia (autistic or not), it is medical emergency. can be life-threatening. there's no/not a lot of time.

it possible to make partial recovery, as in get better but not to before catatonia. but overall, many permanently lose previous level of functioning.

references

Dhossche, D. M., Shah, A., & Wing, L. (2006). Blueprints for the assessment, treatment, and future study of Catatonia in autism spectrum disorders. International Review of Neurobiology, 267–284. https://doi.org/10.1016/s0074-7742(05)72016-x

Ghaziuddin, M. (2021). Catatonia: A common cause of late regression in autism. Frontiers in Psychiatry, 12. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyt.2021.674009

Ghaziuddin, M., Quinlan, P., & Ghaziuddin, N. (2005). Catatonia in autism: A distinct subtype? Journal of Intellectual Disability Research, 49(1), 102–105. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1365-2788.2005.00666.x

Shah, A. (2019). Catatonia, shutdown and breakdown in autism: A psycho-ecological approach. Jessica Kingsley Publishers.

#autistic catatonia #actuallyautistic #actually autistic #autism #autistic #long post #catatonia #loaf screm

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olderthannetfic · 7 months ago

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Obvious Disclaimer that this is not about any specific anon in particular, not about OTNF themself, but that my following rant might *slightly* punch down on people who ARE, well, older than net fics are.

But my honest opinion is that I really don’t like it when us old heads tend to sorta…talk down to? “Adultsplain”, if that’s even a thing? To The Gen Zs, by being like “damn kids! back in my day we never used our real name or posted selfies or posted about our personal life at all!” Don’t get me wrong, I’m one of those people who never posted the real me — but not because I was anonymous and cared about online safety, because I was a liar 😂 That being said, there ARE older people who definitely over-shared or “doxxed” themselves and still do, and there’s younger people who don’t!

I also feel like being “ha, these stupid KIDS who post about their FANDOM LIFE on TIK TOCK under their REAL NAME AND FACE where IRLS CAN SEE THEM, how STUPID” is not doing anyone any favors. Is that, technically, a smart thing for kids to do? No. Has it become normalized? Yes. And does that suck for people who might be bullied or outed or whatever cuz they genuinely are dumb and don’t know better and then someone they don’t like sees their stuff? Yes.

We all talk about how there’s no more kids spaces on the internet and how that’s a shame, but then five seconds later we’ll reblog that one “At any time I’m at risk of seeing a 14 year olds opinion and that’s why I hate it here” post. There’s really so few kid spaces on the net now, that’s true. We should extend empathy and let the teens be obnoxious and pretentious in peace, rather than making it a point to “ratio” or “roast them.” Idk personally I’d be completely unbothered if some 14 year old insulted my fic or my ship or whatever. I’d just block and move on, no need to try to argue with them.

And also, not all kids are even pretentious or obnoxious! I’m not saying we all need to take the kids under our wings, but we should be careful about not hating them just for being in their teens years, you know?

Also… telling a teenager to not post PII or not get into discourse or not have social media or whatever will NOT work the way you want it to 😭 kids are by default a little bit oppositionally defiant so telling some rando teen to Get Off Your Lawn (blog) rather than just blocking them, will encourage said teen to Stay On Your Lawn.

I just hate how it’s become normal for adults to talk down to teens online. I was harassed by adults online as a kid, then years and years and years later i went through my own “Older Than You™️”phase where I myself was a shit to teenagers, and I truly regret that so much. To this day I still need to make an effort to be careful. I saw on Twitter where an adult posted a DM from a 13 year old, mocking them. The DM said “I’m 14 next year, can I follow you? Please don’t groom me.” And the adult OP was laughing at how stupid the dm was. A few years ago, I would’ve been one of the people retweeting that and rolling my eyes at the child. Now im disgusted by the people who WERE laughing at them.

And again I’m obviously not saying we should be “nice” to the teenagers who mock us for our ships or who virtue signal too hard. But we also don’t need to make fun of their CARRDS or call them Puri-teens or rag on them just for being 17 or younger, yk?

Teens aren't 'puriteens' just for being young, dude. They have to also be puritanical bullies.

I find the stuff about real names hilarious because, actually, if you're really Internet Old™, then you probably did use your real name... it was right there in your university e-mail address! Or your random early ISP address if your stepdad got it for you and thought the university format was the default. Thanks, stepdad.

I've done every single dumb thing from going to meet my internet pen pal at an Alice Cooper concert to flying to Ireland from Japan to stay with a fandom friend I'd never met without telling anyone where I was going and without a credit card or enough cash to flee if I had to. I remember sitting on the plane thinking "Man, this is such a CSI episode topic".

The really funny part was that despite what she'd said before I visited, we ran into each of her parents at different times and ended up going to a play courtesy of her uncle, and all of them were like "So how do you know each other?" and "But you'd met before, right? RIGHT?!"

The level of panopticon is horrifying now. Teens have my sympathy. That part really is worse, and I think it's driving an entire generation nuts and we're going to see even more shit about people wanting to run away and live in a cabin in the woods with no internet. But in general, I don't think we're so different.

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prettymrswright · 1 year ago

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Lockdown. Pt 2

pairing: koffee!singer x black fem!choreographer/artist

content warnings: smuttt baby, off the bat! 😂 it was highly requested for Koffee, so as an artist I must deliver. a lot of patois (Koffee is from Spanish Town, she has a strong JA accent).,fluff, strong language, spirituality, art.

a/n: dusting off the pen and paper, (or should i say keyboard), and this was requested the most, so we start here. also, she has a new masterlist design 🤭!!! shout out to my baby, @dejaonline the creator and visionary of my carrd. my taglist is on there if you want to sign up for a specific person or take yourself out of one!!! i missed writing, so this should be fun. love you wh^res <3

translations:

did - past tense

don't? - right? / isn't it?

A suh - so/how

eno - you know

mek - let

ramp - play/ play around

Jah/ Jah Jah - God

yah - here

Gyalis - player/ ladies (wo)man

guh - go

taglist: @dejaonline @prophetalmighty @saintwrld @sapphicvqmpires @inmyheadimobsessed @kisskourt @shurislover @ventingfanfics @vampzxi @abenomeiiii @koffeewife @bbbbbbrilliantly @shuriislut @sopaintercrown @billyjeanonthed

LOCKDOWN PART 1. < if you haven’t read :)

Her mid-back length locs hung down, framing your face as she rocked into your clit, her firm hands gripping you in place. She had her warm, dark brown eyes locked with yours, her bottom lip trapped by her top row of teeth.

"Fuck, Mikayla," You cried out, eyes welling up with tears from the multiple sensations she was giving you. She kissed your slightly parted lips and down the side of your neck.

Your moans and cries flew through her ears like music she loved, encouraging her every action. Her fingers interlocked with yours as she pinned them by your sides, continuing to fluidly move across your center.

"Mhm," You moaned through sealed lips, trying to contain its volume, but it was no use.

"Open up, pretty girl," The singer demanded, and you shortly obliged. She sat up tall and slipped two of her slender fingers inside your creamy center, pumping with precision. If you weren't going to get loud, she would surely make you.

She didn't care for your shy act. She wanted the sex to embody exactly what it was made for; passion. Be loud, be raunchy. If she decided to make love to you, it was with full intention.

She stroked her fingers long and deep inside you, her other hand massaging your right nipple.

"Oh my god," you breathed out as you felt your mouth began to water. You reached your hand out to place it on her chiseled stomach, in attempts to slow her pace, but she smacked it away.

"Doh touch me." She spat. "A dis yuh did want, don't?"

She teased and you whined. You did want her, God did you ever.

You feel yourself creaming around her fingers, and as much as it was, you never wanted it to stop.

"That is it, mumma, yes," She encouraged the beginning of your release. "Let it go fi mi."

Your voice traveled the room as you came harder from the rich, raspiness of her voice. She was trying to draw you out, and it was working.

You grabbed her hand and licked yourself clean off her fingers, still making noise and staring her directly in her eyes.

"Mm," She gave a hum of arousal at the sight. "A suh you wicked?"

You heartily chuckled at her astonishment. Before she could react further, you pushed her off of you and onto the bed. You locked your legs between hers, ass facing her, giving her a rear view of your ride.

You bounced up and down on all fours, riding her clit, back deeply arched. You felt the secretion of the two of you building and sloshing against each other.

“Shit,” She exclaimed, mesmerized by the movement of your ass. She sent a sharp pop upside it, making it shake even more. “You feel so good, y/n.”

You looked back at her and smiled devilishly. Provoked by your gesture, she pulls you back by your hips and drives hers up against yours at a faster pace.

“Ohhh, shit!” You yelled. “Fuckkk, yes, don’t stop, please!” You begged, riding the high of your warm clits colliding and her soft, strong hands gripping your sides, thumbs settled in your back dimples.

“Aghhh,” She groaned, her clit beginning to twitch underneath you. “Mm, mm, no,” She shook her head and pinned you down. She wasn’t quite ready for her release. A bit into edging, but more-so for maximum release.

She kept one hand pinning your stomach down to the bed, grabbing her strap from off the dresser and slipping it on with the other. She rubbed your entrance slightly before heading in, no lubricant needed, the way she had your water running.

“Baby,” you whined out, slightly in panic. It had been a minute, but the last time she put this on you, you were in an over 24 hour recovery. She was dangerous, but you liked danger.

“Shhh,” She whispered in your ear, grabbing a handful of your hair, slightly craning your neck. “Yuh fi tek dis. Wul’ on to me.”

She folded one arm behind your back and held your forearm while she held yours. Swiftly, she slid her length up into you.

“Sssshit!” You hissed, feeling woozy at its depth. “I can’t, baby I can’t.”

“Believe inna yuh self, miss,” She chuckled, before stroking your middle, mid-tempo.

You reached your hand back, pressing your hand back onto her chiseled stomach, and quickly you’d realize that was a mistake. She now had both of your arms pinned and was now picking up her pace.

Your body began to sweat profusely and your legs began to quiver underneath her.

“Mmmm, fuck!” Your moans being drowned out in the pillow your face was stuffed in, the cloth held captive between your teeth. “‘Kayla, please,”

“Memba yuh did wan run weh from me? Hmm?” She antagonized, pumping deeper and faster.

“No, please,” You plead and plead. “Please, baby I’m sorry,”

It was clear she was holding more of a grudge than you thought, and you were certainly paying for it right now.

She hiked you up, forcing your back to her chest, and your ear to her lips.

“Don’t do that to me, again.” She sternly warned, sending shivers down your spine. Overtaken and out of breath, all you could do was nod.

In a quick motion she slid out and turned you over. Your doe eyes, full of lust and adornment, were staring directly up at her. She stared back intently and smiled.

“Mi did miss yuh pretty face, eno,” She confessed. Without giving you time to respond, she was inside you again.

“I—“ You gasped out, clawing at her arms that were pinned at your sides. She held your knees to your chest and gave you long, deep strokes, kissing up and around your legs.

“Oh my goddd,” Your head drops back and your eyes follow, rolling into your lids. You haven’t felt this good since you seen her last. It was like the first time all over again. Every stroke, every kiss, every whisper; you constantly had to fight not to blurt out those three words.

The way she looked, the way she felt, the way she prioritized your body’s every demand made you feel the sluttiest you could ever.

You held your middle and index finger up over her lips and smoothed them across them, and she lubricated them with her saliva, lightly sucking on your digits. You slide those fingers down to your clit and massage small, quick circles into it.

You feel your mouth begin to water at the combination.

“Yesss, just like that, baby, keep fucking me,” You encourage her sinisterly, directly staring into her face. “You make me feel so good,”

You didn’t give a fuck anymore. You missed her, it’s been months, and you were over the games. This was the side she so desperately wanted to see.

“Shit,” she grunted under her breath, strokes getting sloppier the wetter you became. “I love seeing you play with that pretty pussy, baby.” She affirmed you, making your moans spill out quicker.

She replaced your hand with hers, caressing your clit with her thumb, bringing her body down to level with yours. She kissed you slowly and passionately, still keeping the pace of both her stroking and massaging.

You moaned loudly into her mouth, wrapping your arms around her, digging your nails into her back. The pleasure was so overwhelming yet so blissful.

“I’m so close, ‘kay, don’t stop,” You whined, squirming under her touch.

“This is all yuh did want, ee? Fi di artist come fuck you?” She teased. “All you had to was ask.”

The more cockier she became the more it turned you on. It was impossible to keep quiet or still. You began to see stars, the way she was pounding your g.

“You want to come? Ask me.” She taunted you.

“Please make me come, baby, I’ve been so good,” Your mouth was moving faster than your brain. All of your words were rushed and desperate. Each of your fingers seeking deeper in her back.

She wrapped her hand around your neck and pulled your forehead to hers, speeding up her final strokes.

“Unhhh, yesss!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as your love came down, creaming all over her length before she slid out.

Your chest heaved up and down, as you attempted to catch your breath.

“Mek mi clean this up for you,” She lowered her lips. to your center and licked you clean, devouring you with her whole mouth, ending her sweep with a slow french kiss.

“Oh, baby,” you whined out, rubbing your fingers through her locs and grabbing a handful. You guide her head left and right in a figure 8 motion, leading her to shake her head in it.

She rocked your hips into her face, sucking your bud, draining the rest of your secretion out.

Tears involuntarily streamed down your face, as you semi-hyperventilated. You pulled her up to you, kissed her deeply, and wrapped your arms around her in a warm embrace.

“Yuh alright?” She asked half sincerely, half in amusement.

“I love you,” You blurt out, not expecting a response.

She erupted in a high-pitched cackle. “You funny eno, yuh ramp too much,”

You smile brightly, eyes still almost shut. “I’m serious!”

“Gyal get the steel pipe, and wan chat bout ‘love’” She continued, still laughing.

“Shut up, Mikayla,” You couldn’t help but laugh too. The jokester she was.

“Mi ago give yuh a second, eno, but mi wan yuh fi get dressed,” She says to you, hinting at another one of her shenanigans.

“Dressed? Fi wha?” You say back in patois, semi-mimicking her.

“I wanna show you something. Something i’ve been working on,” She says, sincerely.

You tense up anxiously. “Okay…”

“It’s not anything bad, nuh worry yuhself,” She reassures you, in attempts to calm your nerves.

$ Walking out the hotel in your black, Chanel mini dress, and your black and gold Yves Saint Laurent heels (gifted by Koffee), you head to the car, hand in hand with the artist. She walks with you over to the passenger door side and opens it for you, helping you inside.

After she closes your door, you watch her 5'6 frame walk to the driver side, dressed in a powder blue, mid-sleeved, collared button down, the first three buttons open, slightly exposing her chest. Her legs decorated in some baggy leather pants, that slightly covered her baby blue, designer sneakers. Her locs were neatly compacted up into a bun, gold jewelry hanging from her neck, and wrists. If it wasn't for whatever she was attempting to show you, you'd pull her right back in that hotel. "Yuh ready?" She asks, quickly smiling and your direction while starting up the engine. You smile and nod sweetly and the two of you drive off. The sun didn't begin to set quite yet, but it was at it's golden hour, shining bright and beautiful hues of yellow, orange, and gold down from the sky blue skies and through the windshield of Koffee's 2022 Midnight Gray Lexus ES. You were riding through the city of Ocho Rios, taking scenic view of all of nature around you; trees and bushes blowing through the wind. You'd be flying back home soon, so you wanted to be completely present. You slid and placed your hand onto the back of her neck, massaging it with your fingers, and you felt the tiny baby hairs stand up. Koffee loved how touchy-feely you were and always returned the favor. She slid her right hand, currently decorated with a 18k gold signet ring, gifted by her grandfather, up your thigh and held you in her grip. As you pass more and more tall buildings and music shops, you began to get curious. The two of you would often parlay on the beaches and spend all evening/night and sometimes, even early mornings. But this was a new side of town. It seemed more industrial. "Mikayla," You spoke in a questioning tone. "Hm?" She replied plainly. "Where we going?" You ask. "You'll see." She replies, that smile she had been showing so often this trip appearing once again.

Pulling up to a complex, you park right in front of a building with ‘Columbia’ written in gold letters across the top. You feel an anxiousness in your stomach once you start to realize where you were.

“Come on,” She gestured as she went to open the door. “Hold on," you say quickly, stopping her from opening the door. You pull down the sun visor mirror and prep up your appearance. You adjust your gold heart pendant necklace and smooth out your braids. You reapply your Fenty gloss bomb lipgloss and blot. You lift your foot up and rest the end of your heel on the dashboard, adjusting your shoe strap and your single-plated gold anklet that was resting so pretty on your ankle. “Girl, come on,” She rushed you semi-jokingly, despite her being in a daze previously to. “Okay, okay, how do I look?” You turn to her and fake a pose, framing your face. She took a long, studious look at you, examining you swiftly but diligently. She hummed in approval. “Sexy.”

“Perfect. Let’s go!” You laugh, grabbing your purse. Koffee comes out of the car, rushing over to you to open your door and take your hand to lift you up and out and lead you into the building. It was huge. Tall lobby ceiling, marble floors, futuristic colors. It was like a hotel lobby of a nightclub, if such a thing existed. She signs the two of you in, and you walk into the elevator and ride up to the 22nd floor. She leads you into a room that she opens with her own key that hung off her hip. You audibly gasp at the sight of what you saw before you. It was her studio. And it was beautiful. There was a long white mixing console, two large white speakers next to it and a computer in the middle. A large booth, next to a small one, both with mics, headphones, and other equipment set up. The room was dimly lit with midnight purple and fuschia colored lights. Across each wall were plaques of achievements from various artists. There were long, white couches on each side of the room, and tall stool chairs spread out across it. In between the two booths, up against the wall were a lineup of different guitars.

You slowly strolled through the room, taking everything in. You looked to your left and noticed a pretty, black bouquet of pink glitter roses, Ghiradelli chocolates, a card, and a fat stack of cash sitting on a low table.

“Wha–” Before you could even ask what the purpose of those were, she interrupted you. “Once Shelley told me you were coming, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. I missed you, y/n/n. And I’m serious about you.” She confesses, holding her glance, as well as your hand. “Kay,” You called out her nickname, feeling your eyes well with tears. She was so sweet and thoughtful. And all this time you were blocking your blessing, and for what? “Doh start,” She chuckled. “Jah. This crybaby, yah.” And you were. But you felt everything so deeply, and as in awe as you were, you were also sad; Somewhat regretful even, for driving a wedge between you two because of your own insecurities. “Thank you, baby.” You thank her with a heart full of love and gratitude. You wrapped your arms around her neck and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “How romantic. Miss Gyalis.” “Please,” She started. “Me anuh Gyalis, and you aren’t just ‘gyal’ to me.”

You studied her face, admiring both her beauty and her words. “Come,” She led you to the seats in front of the computer and pulled up a song. “Tell me what you think about this.” The song began and the summery, mid-tempo beat flowed out of the speakers and filled up the room.

Where will we go?

When di quarantine ting done and everybody touch road?

Mommy, me go NASCAR

Pull up in a fast car, yeah

A nuh false start

Mek you and di boss par, yeah

I know you’re feeling me

You know I’m feeling you

So what now we fi do?

You swayed back and forth and slightly nodded your head. She was so good at what she did. Every song made you feel good, like a fun summer night. You didn’t even notice what it really was about at first.

Yeah, yeah

Aye fancy

How yuh heart stay, it nah no vacancy?

Last time see yuh pon FaceTime

Chatting up di place

Bout you nuh want relationship

Me a go put you pon lock down

A put yuh body pon lockdown, mmm

You got me pon lock now

You got my passion on lock, woah

She turned to you, lip syncing her own lyrics at you.

If you love me

You should let me

You should let me know

And if you don’t know

Better fi let me

A better yuh let me go

You took in every word, flattered at its insinuating dedication, but shocked at her confession. Sure you knew she liked you, but not like this. You also didn’t want to assume. It was hard to take in.

All yuh want talk bout a matrimony, yeah

Any ting yuh want Koffee got di money, yeah

Me give yuh me heart beg yuh take it from me

She dramatically mimicked the lyrics, clutching her chest and kneeling at your feet, making you laugh. She was cute. And the song was really damn good.

Baby are you feeling me?

Cause I'm really feeling you

Baby are you feeling me?

Cause I'm really feeling you

I'm a pull up in my fast car You were silent for a while as the song outro faded out. You were speechless. You stared for a while, going through about every emotion and thought you had the past few months. You’d open your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. “That bad, huh?” She asked comically.

“No!” You rushed out. “It was.. beautiful.” You look around you, still finding the words. “When did you-?”

“Early April. Last time mi did hear from you was March, and mi stop call from den. Mi feelings hurt bad bad. So I took up the pain and drive guh a studio wid it.” “Oh,” You say lowly. “Kay, I’m sorry. I mean, not totally because, you just made a HIT song– yes I said hit— AND it’s about me, so that’s double whammy right there.”

She laughed heartily, leaning back in her chair. “You ramp too much.” “All jokes aside, though. I was in my head so much that I didn’t give you a chance to show me how much you cared. Truthfully cuz I felt like I cared too much. I was anticipating getting hurt, and that wasn’t fair to you or myself.” She looked down and nodded in agreement. “Mi just glad seh you found your way back to me, baby.” She placed a warm, caring kiss on your cheek. “And I love you too.”

You left your chair and opted for a seat on her lap, resting your arm around her back and on her shoulder. “Play it for me, again?” You asked with a beaming smile. She returned a beaming one back to you before pressing the play button on the mixing console in front of her, holding you tighter the second time around.

#koffee #koffee x reader #prettymrswright #black sapphic

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neopronouns · 10 months ago

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[if alt text is not accessible for you, every image in this post is a line divider resembling train or roller coaster tracks, with dark dull pink rails and warm grey crossties. end id.]

welcome to my blog!

i'm dexter, and you can find more information about me here. i'm 23 and i mainly use he/him, ey/em, and it/its pronouns, but any other pronouns that are not she or they are good too!

i also run @mogai-headcanons, where i made edits of folks' mogai/liom/etc. headcanons, and @neopornouns, a request blog like this one for 18+ terms, and my main blog is @rarnbley.

please read my dni before following me and read my general rules and blog rules/open requests before requesting!

requests are currently open! [pt: open! /end pt] if you're interested, you can also read my request whitelist to see what requests i'll be most excited about!

here is every request currently in my inbox. my queue currently posts 3 times a day between 10am and 2pm cst.

here's a quick list of frequently asked questions — i recommend you look through this before asking me a question, since i get a lot of asks and may ignore yours if it's answered here!

q: what program do you use to make your flags/edits and how? a: i use gimp on desktop! here's a simple flag tutorial i made and a basic flag splicing tutorial for multi-flag icons.

q: what's your header/icon? a: my icon is rambley the raccoon from 'indigo park' over the kenomel flag and my header is a gif of rambley's cute emotion animation with lyrics from the song 'rambley review' from 'indigo park'!

q: are you alright with requests involving [insert media]? a: if it's not in my general rules linked above, probably yes! if you're concerned for a specific reason (source content, shitty creator, etc.) please let me know in your ask; i don't know what's problematic about every piece of media!

q: i don't see my request in the inbox! can i resend it? a: yes! just resend it and let me know that you sent it previously while requests were open.

q: can i put your terms on [insert wiki] or [insert other social media site]? a: yes, as long as you credit me and do not reword my definitions, add additional definitions, etc.

q: can you tag [insert thing]? a: yes, i'll try my hardest to remember! feel free to remind me if i forget.

q: how long will it take for my request to be posted? how long will it take for you to get to my request? a: i can't definitively say, sorry! i try to make it so the queue has a month's worth or less of posts in it, but as for getting to your request, i don't really know for a number of reasons.

q: [insert post] should be tagged as eyestrain! a: thanks for letting me know! i struggle to determine what is eyestrainy a lot of the time, so i tag things as 'eyestrain' when i'm certain and 'potential eyestrain' when i'm not. if you're photosensitive, i recommend blocking both tags to be safe.

q: can i use one of your edits somewhere? a: yes, and i would strongly prefer if you credit me somewhere if you do.

q: are you alright with spam likes/reblogs? a: yes, and i appreciate your support and enthusiasm!

q: [insert nice thing] a: i cherish you so much and your ask probably will sit in my inbox forever along with all the other incredibly sweet asks i've received over the course of this blog!

q: [discourse] a: please Do Not.

lastly, here's a few resources you may find useful!

my taglist application, for if you want me to tag you in my coining posts/edits

my deviantart for flag templates and symbols

the pride-flags deviantart, which has a ton of high-res flags for mogai terms and more flag templates/symbols

my guide to finding mogai terms by name (and ensuring that you don’t name a new term after a preexisting one)

a guide to how i create names for my terms

an archive of pupyzu’s term suffixes carrd

a list of other mogai blogs i enjoy (hasn't been updated in a while, sorry!)

a beginner’s guide to request etiquette

my redbubble shop, where i’m happy to upload any other flags i’ve personally designed or edits i’ve made

#dexter.txt #faq

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soiarsys · 1 year ago

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i sometimes see people say things like, “nobody has a role in my system. we dont fit into any because we’re more like, “guy who is sad” and “girl who is productive”.” or even, “i can’t be [role] because sometimes im weak/sad/self destructive/etc etc”

firstly i want to say, this is okay!! don’t use roles if you don’t want to! make up your own, even!

but i also want to remind everyone that fully formed alters (as in, not fragments) are full, multidimensional people, and people aren’t always consistent. we’re also all traumatized, and that shows sometimes no matter who is fronting. protectors can be scared. trauma holders can be happy. persecutors can be kind to their system. the definition of the role doesn’t have to be the definition of you as an alter. protectors are just alters who feel protective over, and sometimes physically protect their system. that doesn’t mean they can’t be scared sometimes, that doesn’t mean they automatically can handle a traumatic situation well, that doesn’t mean they never feel depressed. same goes for any other role.

also, there absolutely are roles for things that are more complicated too, if you want to use them. some people like being “guy who is sad” while others like being “trauma holder” or “depression holder”, even if it might mean the same thing to them. roles don’t have rules, they’re created by us, and what is making you [role] can be anything, depending on how you interpret it. and you can still have one even if you don’t feel like you are any of the “common” roles. even if what you do in the system is hyperspecific and uncommon, you can still find/make a role for it. but you don’t have to. it’s also just a descriptor.

this is getting long and im not entirely sure this gets my point across, but i have been seeing more and more stuff like this, and i think people shouldn’t be scared away by roles just because they’re so broad and there can be so many. just like nobody should have to identify with roles, nobody should be intimidated or scared away if it might be beneficial or fun for their system.

also if you are looking for roles, there’s pluralpedia (keep in mind this is an endo friendly website, whether that keeps you away or pulls you in to the website isn’t what this is about i just know it’s commonly mentioned). there are also lots of instagram accounts and tumblr blogs who coin (create) roles! you’re bound to find some if you look under the tags or even scroll through a system blog long enough. if anyone coins roles on their blog or knows any other role lists/carrds/docs/etc plss reblog with them!

#♟️.txt #osddid #actually plural #did #osdd #system #did system #plural #plurality #pfdid #polyfrag system #system roles

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tommydarlings · 4 months ago

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fucktoy part 4 | f1 grid

pairing: dark!dom!mick schumacher ; dark!dom!toto wolff ; x sub!bimbo!reader

warnings: smut, dacryphilia, possessive behaviour, obsessive behaviour, mentions of tracking somebody’s location, covering mouth???, pussy eating, hair pulling, breeding kink, spitting, gagging

w/c: 0.7k

summary: the f1 grid loves to simply use you as their fucktoy or as a stress relief and nothing else.

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +65 works) // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

Thinking about how mick would keep an eye on you everywhere and every time and get unbelievably mad the seconds he notices you’re somewhere he didn’t allow you to be.

You were partying with your girl friends but forgot to tell mick — but that wasn’t really a problem for him since he tracks your phone and car anyway — which you didn’t know since you’re only his situationship.

He immediately got into his car and drove to the club you were at.

And as you saw him storming into the club with a not so happy facial expression, taking long and angry looking steps right towards you.

And here you were now, being mercilessly thrusted into against the one of the women’s bathroom stalls, mick behind you gripping your hair in a tight grip, his lips grazing your ear.

“You think you can just go out partying or shit like that without letting me know? You could have given me a call… or at least message me but no, you’re dumb little brain didn’t think about that, huh?“ you arched your back further as his thrust got harsher.

You shook your head, trying your best to find some excuse but you came up with nothing.

Mick chuckled, “can’t find any stupid excuse, huh?“ And you only gulped, rolling your eyes into the back of your head.

“Thought so,“ he mumbled before he almost lovingly kissed your wet temple, still mercilessly thrusting into you.

Suddenly, you heard two women entering the restroom, loudly chatting and laughing with each other and just when you were about to release a not so quiet scream of pleasure, mick swiftly covered your mouth with his hand, immediately shutting you up,

“Shh,“ he whispered into your ear from behind, his thrusts not stopping, “just scream into my hand but just so you know I won’t stop.“

Or how toto would literally think and talk about breeding you all the time just so you don’t even spare a glance at the other men in the paddock.

You were in his office, dress bunched up by his big, veiny hand as one of your legs was laying carelessly by its knee on his glass table.

Gasps and whines were constantly leaving your mouth as the older man ate your wet pussy out from behind, collecting all of your juice and spitting into your hole, his hands roughly spreading and squeezing your cheeks.

“O-Oh fuck! Oh god!“ you screamed through gritted teeth, the tip of his tongue rapidly running along your slit, occasionally entering you before sliding out again and spitting on it, being very messy and careless.

He removed one hand from your ass, running his long pointer and middle finger along your drenched cunt before entering you, his lips not biting and sucking on your cheeks, clearly to create prominent marks.

“Mhmm… who were you talking to earlier, meine kleine?“ my little one, toto asked in a raspy tone with a smirk, his two fingers making quick work of deeply entering you and slowly sliding out of you again, repeating that devious process over and over again.

You gulped, “I w-was only talking t-to Charles about-”

“You were talking to Charles, that’s right… and that’s exactly where the problem begins,” toto told you from behind, his fingers speeding up, forcing you to around them as you heard him spitting onto them, making you even wetter.

You whined in a high pitched tone, letting your head fall onto the expensive table half of your shaking figure was laying on.

Toto spoke up, “maybe I should breed you, make your pretty little body all round, hmm? What do you say, liebling?“ love.

You quickly shook your head, you were too young and the two of you weren’t even together, you were just casually hooking up to have some fun and release some pent up stress or anger.

His fingers left your clenching pussy, quickly putting them into his mouth and licking them clean, his eyes still focused on the back of your head, a frown on his face as he noticed how you swiftly shook your head.

Toto slowly stood up, “no? Why not? Then everybody would know that you’re mine and you’d be pregnant with my child! Wouldn’t that be just beautiful? That way I could easily show those immature, young boys that you’re completely off the market,“ he mumbled into your ear from behind before he entered you with his big cock, forcing you to take deep breaths as he slowly filled you up.

“Oh yeah, I’m gonna put a pretty mini version of the two of us into you now, you just relax and let me do it, alright?“

BONUS;

Or how Lewis would have the audacity to make you feel so embarrassingly small and dumb.

CONTINUE READING THE EXTENDED VERSION WITH THE L.H BONUS ON MY PATREON! <3 [1k]

#fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x you #mick Schumacher smut #mick Schumacher x fem!reader #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff #Toto wolff x you #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 2024 #mercedes amg f1

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goldfades · 21 days ago

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𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐌𝐄 ───── LAMELO BALL

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.7k (i got a bit carried away per usual)

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | lamelo spots you courtside, turning in the game of his life just to impress you. what starts as playful banter at an afterparty quickly turns into a connection that neither of you can ignore.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | lamelo being COCKY AF, ummmmm... mentions of drinking, banter, allusions to lamelo being a hohohoho, just very banter-teasing heavy

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | i'm feeding the secret lamelo ball fangirls out there cause i see you and i fw you a lot cause ur just liek me, i hope yall enjoy !!!

The buzz of the Spectrum Center feels electric tonight. Maybe it’s the high stakes of the game, or maybe it’s just the way Lilah’s energy rubs off on you—effortless and magnetic, like she was born to thrive under these arena lights. You sit beside her, court-side, her gold bracelets jingling softly as she waves to someone across the court. Her husband, Miles is warming up, all easy confidence and sharp focus. He catches Lilah’s eye, grins, and points toward the two of you, a silent “this one’s for you.”

Lilah leans in, her voice just audible above the noise. “Miles is going to kill it tonight. He always does when I’m here.” She nudges you playfully. “You’re my lucky charm, though, so don’t go thinking you’re off the hook.”

You laugh, shifting in your seat as the players take their positions. Basketball’s never been your scene, but when Lilah called and begged you to come as her plus-one, you couldn’t say no. Something about her insistence—“You need to get out more!”—made it impossible to refuse. And now, as the lights dim and the announcer’s voice booms through the arena, you’re glad you came. The energy is infectious, the atmosphere electric.

Then, your attention shifts.

Number one, LaMelo Ball, steps onto the court. He’s hard to miss—tall, sharp-cut features, and an aura that makes it seem like he knows everyone’s watching him. Which, let’s be honest, they probably are. He moves with a kind of casual arrogance, his presence larger than life even among his teammates. You’ve heard his name a dozen times, always tied to words like prodigy or superstar, but seeing him in person is something else entirely.

And then it happens.

As if sensing your gaze, he glances your way. It’s quick, just a flicker, but enough for his eyes to find yours. Time slows—or maybe it’s just your imagination—because for a moment, it feels like he’s staring straight through the noise and chaos of the arena, right at you. There’s something in his expression—curiosity, intrigue—that makes your breath hitch.

He smirks, the corner of his mouth lifting in a way that’s almost imperceptible, then turns his attention back to the court. But you notice the difference immediately. His movements become sharper, his energy more focused. Every pass, every shot, every step is precise, like he’s putting on a show and you’re the intended audience.

Lilah nudges you again. “I think LaMelo just checked you out.”

You laugh it off, but your pulse betrays you, thudding a little too hard against your ribs. You’re overthinking it, you tell yourself. It’s just a coincidence, an accident.

On the court, LaMelo thrives in the rhythm of the game. He’s always been good at this—reading plays, threading passes, finding space where none should exist. But tonight, something feels different. There’s a spark under his skin, a hum that makes every move sharper, every decision quicker. He knows exactly why.

Between plays, he glances toward the courtside seats again, where you’re sitting with Lilah Bridges. He doesn’t even know your name, but he can’t stop looking. There’s something about the way you’re perched there, so effortlessly composed, your laugh soft but luminous whenever Lilah says something funny. The arena lights hit your face just right, making you impossible to miss, even with the chaos of the game surrounding him.

“Yo, Melo,” Miles mutters during a timeout, smirking as he catches LaMelo glancing toward the sideline. “You good? You’ve been zoned in all night.”

LaMelo grabs a water bottle and takes a quick sip, playing it cool. “I’m always locked in.”

Miles doesn’t let up, chuckling as he leans closer. “Nah, not like this. You’ve been balling like you got something to prove. Who’s got you locked in like that?” He follows LaMelo’s line of sight, and when his gaze lands on you, his grin widens. “Ahhh, I see. You’re been peepin’ Lilah’s friend.”

LaMelo doesn’t confirm or deny it, but the way he smirks back says enough. “Who is she?” he asks, keeping his voice low, casual.

Miles shrugs, wiping his face with a towel. “That’s Lilah’s girl. She’s cool, real chill. Don’t know if she’s your type, though.”

LaMelo raises an eyebrow, his confidence peeking through. “What makes you think she’s not my type?”

Miles laughs, shaking his head. “Man, I’m just saying. She doesn’t seem like the type to get caught up in all... this.” He gestures vaguely to the court, the arena, the larger-than-life spectacle that comes with being LaMelo Ball.

LaMelo doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he lets his eyes drift back to you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward when he catches you clapping at something Lilah says. There’s something about you that feels... different. It’s not just the way you look, though that’s definitely a big part of it. It’s the way you carry yourself, like you’re perfectly content to stay in the background, even though the spotlight would suit you just fine.

“She doesn’t have to get caught up in all this,” he finally says, dribbling the ball idly as the timeout winds down. “I just wanna know her name.”

Miles shakes his head, chuckling. “Good luck with that, man. Lilah’s probably gonna run interference if she thinks you’re trying to pull something.”

LaMelo grins, his confidence unwavering. “Guess I’ll just have to ask her myself.”

When the whistle blows and the game resumes, he’s locked in again—but this time, it’s with a purpose. He’s not just playing for the win. He’s playing to make sure he earns your attention, the same way you’ve unknowingly captured his.

The ball is in his hands again, and LaMelo moves like the court is his stage. Each dribble echoes, every pass and shot calculated to perfection. He’s already good at this—great, even—but tonight, he’s playing like he’s got something to prove. To himself? Maybe. To you? Definitely.

He steals a glance toward the sideline during a lull in the game. You’re still there, leaning slightly toward Lilah as the two of you talk. Whatever she just said has you laughing, your head tilted back, a hand coming up to cover your mouth as if to stifle the sound. It’s unguarded, genuine. LaMelo feels his focus falter for half a second, his gaze lingering just a little too long.

“Yo, stay with me!” His teammate barks as he claps his hands, trying to pull LaMelo’s attention back to the game.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” LaMelo says, waving him off. And he is good—better than good, actually. He’s in a rhythm now, and the team is feeding off his energy. Every basket he scores gets the crowd louder, and every assist he dishes out has the bench on their feet.

But you’re still there, just at the edge of his vision, a quiet distraction that’s becoming harder to ignore.

By halftime, the Hornets are up by ten, and the arena is buzzing with excitement. LaMelo plops down on the bench, catching his breath. Sweat drips from his hairline, and he swipes at it with a towel. As the coaches huddle the team together, his thoughts drift back to you.

Miles is the first to notice. Again.

“You ain’t slick, bro,” Miles says, shaking his head with a grin as he grabs a Gatorade. “I saw you peeking at her all through the second quarter.”

LaMelo scoffs, though he doesn’t bother denying it. “I wasn’t peeking. I was glancing. Big difference.”

Miles laughs, the sound low and knowing. “Whatever you gotta tell yourself. I’m just saying—don’t let Coach catch you getting distracted out here.”

“I’m not distracted,” LaMelo shoots back, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together. His smirk is quick, confident. “I’m locked in. You see the score?”

“Yeah, yeah, we see it,” Miles says, rolling his eyes. “But don’t think I didn’t catch you asking about her earlier. You really gonna make a move on Lilah’s friend?”

“Why not?” LaMelo’s answer is immediate, like he’s already decided.

Miles shakes his head, taking another sip of his drink. “She doesn’t look like the type to fall for all that charm you’re so proud of.”

LaMelo just grins, leaning back against the bench as the coaches wrap up their halftime pep talk. “Good. That’s the fun part.”

The game resumes, and LaMelo’s energy is sharper than ever. The crowd roars with every shot he makes, every assist he dishes. He’s putting on a clinic, and it’s impossible not to notice. The announcers are hyped, the fans are on their feet, and even his teammates are feeding off his fire.

And yet, every time he scores, his eyes flicker back to you.

It’s subtle—so quick that most people wouldn’t catch it—but Miles does. And so does Lilah, apparently. By the fourth quarter, she’s leaning over to whisper something to you, a sly smile on her face. You glance toward the court briefly, and for a split second, your eyes meet LaMelo’s again.

That’s when he knows.

The final buzzer sounds, and the Hornets walk off the court victorious. The energy in the arena is electric, fans cheering as the players exchange high-fives and congratulations. But LaMelo’s already thinking about the afterparty.

As he heads to the locker room, he catches up with Miles. “So, what’s the move tonight?”

Miles raises an eyebrow. “Why you asking me? You don’t usually roll through these things like that.”

LaMelo shrugs, keeping his tone casual. “Just curious. Lilah’s coming, right?”

“Yeah,” Miles says slowly, catching on. “And I’m guessing her friend will be there too?”

LaMelo doesn’t answer, but the look on his face says it all.

Miles chuckles, shaking his head as they head down the tunnel. “Man, you’re bold. Good luck with that one. She’s way out of your league.”

LaMelo smirks, the challenge lighting a spark in his chest. “No such thing as out of my league.”

As he steps into the locker room, his mind is already racing. He doesn’t know much about you yet—just the way you look when you laugh and the fact that you’ve already got him playing like he’s got something to prove.

But he’s determined to find out more.

The afterparty is in full swing by the time you and Lilah walk in, the pulsing bass of the music vibrating through the floor as laughter and conversation fill the space. It’s one of those places that feels effortlessly cool—dim lights, plush leather seating, and enough space for the players to spread out without it feeling cramped. You weren’t planning to have too much fun tonight, but the energy in the room is infectious.

Lilah tugs you along toward the bar, her arm looped through yours. “Okay, first rule of these parties,” she says, grinning as she leans in close, “always let me order your first drink. Miles swears I have good luck when it comes to the bartenders.”

You laugh, watching as she flags someone down with a wave and effortlessly orders for both of you. A minute later, a glass of something bright and fizzy is pressed into your hand. You take a sip, pleasantly surprised by how smooth it is, the citrusy kick warming you from the inside.

“Good, right?” Lilah asks, already sipping hers.

You nod, letting the drink loosen you up as you glance around the room. The players are scattered across the space, some tucked into booths with their significant others, others leaning against the bar, laughing and clinking glasses. It’s easy to spot LaMelo. He’s tall, for one thing, but it’s more than that. He has this magnetism about him, like the energy of the room shifts wherever he goes.

And right now, his attention is on you.

You notice it immediately—the way his eyes seem to find you no matter where you stand. He’s subtle about it, leaning casually against the bar as he talks to one of his teammates, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. But every so often, his gaze flickers in your direction, lingering just a beat too long before returning to his conversation.

At first, you try to brush it off. He’s probably like this with everyone, you tell yourself. Smooth, confident, the kind of guy who knows the effect he has on people. But the longer it goes on, the harder it is to ignore. Each glance feels deliberate, like he’s testing the waters, waiting to see how you’ll react.

And you can’t help it—you start to react.

You catch yourself standing a little straighter, your laugh a little more unguarded, the occasional glance in his direction just to see if he’s still looking. He always is. It’s a game, one that you didn’t realize you’d started playing, but now that you’re in it, you can’t seem to stop.

“Okay, spill,” Lilah says suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts. She’s leaning against the bar beside you, her lips curled into a knowing smile.

“Spill what?” you ask, trying to sound casual as you take another sip of your drink.

She tilts her head toward LaMelo, who’s still standing across the room, his attention now fully on you. “Don’t play dumb. I saw the way you two were eyeing each other. What’s the deal?”

“There’s no deal,” you say quickly, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrays you.

“Uh-huh.” Lilah doesn’t look convinced. “He’s been staring at you all night, and don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you keep looking back.”

“I’m not—” you start to protest, but she cuts you off with a laugh.

“Relax,” she says, her tone playful. “I’m not judging. I mean, it’s LaMelo. He’s... well, you’ve seen him. But I’m just saying, if you’re into it, I’d say the interest is mutual.”

You glance back toward him, and sure enough, his eyes meet yours. This time, he doesn’t look away. Instead, he raises his glass slightly in a silent toast, his smirk deepening when you feel yourself falter under his gaze. There’s something disarming about the way he looks at you—confident but not cocky, curious but not overbearing.

“See?” Lilah teases, nudging you with her elbow. “I told you.”

You shake your head, laughing softly as you turn your attention back to her. “I’m just here to have a good time, Lilah. That’s all.”

“And you should,” she says, her smile widening. “But just so you know, if you’re not careful, he’s going to be the highlight of your night.”

You don’t respond, but the way your pulse quickens at her words tells you she might be right.

The party is in full swing now, the music loud enough to vibrate through the soles of your heels, and the energy in the room has shifted into something more electric. A few drinks in, you’re feeling looser, lighter. Lilah’s infectious laughter and Miles’s constant teasing have you at ease, your initial hesitations about the night fading into the background.

You’re seated now, perched on one of the low leather couches with Lilah on one side and Miles on the other, their banter flying back and forth like a friendly game of verbal ping-pong. You chime in every now and then, mostly to laugh or roll your eyes at one of Miles’s exaggerated stories about life on the road with the team.

“Tell me I’m lying,” Miles says, leaning back with a triumphant grin after his latest tale.

“You’re lying,” Lilah shoots back immediately, taking a sip of her drink.

You laugh, shaking your head as you reach for your own glass. The world around you feels pleasantly fuzzy, the edges softened by the buzz in your veins.

“Y’all don’t believe anything I say,” Miles grumbles, though his tone is more amused than annoyed.

“We believe the parts that make sense,” you counter, flashing him a teasing smile.

“Oh, she’s got jokes now,” Miles says, nudging you with his elbow. “Lilah, where’d you find her? She’s got a little spice.”

Lilah grins, leaning toward you conspiratorially. “You should see her when she’s really on a roll. She’ll have you questioning your whole life.”

You laugh again, the sound light and unguarded. It’s been a while since you’ve felt this carefree, and you let yourself sink into it, the atmosphere wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

But then, out of the corner of your eye, you see him.

LaMelo.

He’s making his way across the room, his long strides purposeful but not rushed. He’s dressed casually—ripped jeans, a designer jacket, and a chain that catches the light just right—but there’s something about the way he carries himself that makes him impossible to ignore.

“Yo, Miles,” LaMelo calls out as he approaches, his voice cutting through the hum of the party.

Miles looks up, grinning as he leans back against the couch. “What’s good, Melo?”

LaMelo stops in front of the group, his hands tucked into his pockets as he nods toward Miles. “Just making my rounds. What’re you over here talking about?”

“Oh, you know, just telling these ladies about how I carried you last season,” Miles says, his grin widening.

LaMelo rolls his eyes, his smile lazy and amused. “Yeah, sure. That’s why your stats were looking real pedestrian, huh?”

Lilah laughs, nudging Miles. “Don’t let him come over here and do you like that.”

“I’m gonna let him have it,” Miles says with a wave of his hand. “Only because I’m in a good mood.”

LaMelo chuckles, his gaze sliding over to you for the first time. His smile softens, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

“And who’s this?” he asks, his voice dropping just slightly, the playful lilt in his tone unmistakable.

Lilah jumps in before you can answer, her grin smug. “This is my girl. Be nice, Melo.”

LaMelo raises his hands in mock surrender, his eyes still on you. “I’m always nice.”

You can’t help but smile, the warmth of his attention settling over you like a spotlight. “I’m [Your Name],” you say, your voice steady despite the way your pulse has quickened.

“LaMelo,” he says, extending a hand toward you. His fingers are warm when they close around yours, his grip firm but not overpowering.

“I know,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

His smile deepens, a flash of teeth that somehow feels both charming and dangerous. “You know, huh? Should I be flattered or nervous?”

“Depends,” you reply, your lips curving into a sly smile. “Do you usually get nervous when someone knows who you are?”

Miles lets out a low whistle, shaking his head as he looks between the two of you. “Oh, this is about to be good.”

LaMelo chuckles, leaning slightly closer, though he’s careful not to invade your space. “I don’t get nervous,” he says, his tone easy but confident. “But I gotta admit, you got me curious now.”

“Curious about what?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

“About you,” he says simply. “Lilah’s been holding out on me.”

“Oh, don’t drag me into this,” Lilah says, laughing as she raises her hands. “You can ask her whatever you want. I’m staying out of it.”

The conversation flows easily after that, his questions playful but sincere, your answers just teasing enough to keep him on his toes. The world around you fades, the music and the chatter of the party becoming a distant hum as you go back and forth.

Every now and then, you catch Lilah watching you, a small, knowing smile on her face. You can feel the heat of LaMelo’s gaze every time he looks at you, and you’re not sure if it’s the drinks or the chemistry between you, but you find yourself leaning into it, letting the moment stretch and unfold in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

And when he laughs—low and genuine—you realize you don’t mind it at all.

As the conversation flows, Lilah gives you a sly smile and stands, tugging on Miles’s arm. “Come on, babe, let’s grab another round,” she says, her tone overly casual.

Miles glances at her, then at you and LaMelo, and smirks knowingly. “Oh, I see how it is. Melo’s about to show off his ‘game,’ huh?”

“Go,” Lilah says, rolling her eyes and shoving his shoulder lightly. She looks at you one last time, her expression smug. “Have fun, girl.”

You watch them disappear into the crowd, your laugh trailing after them, but the moment they’re gone, you feel the shift in the air. It’s subtle, like the space between you and LaMelo suddenly carries a different weight.

“Guess it’s just us now,” LaMelo says, leaning back against the couch with an easy confidence.

“Looks like it,” you reply, glancing at him over the rim of your glass.

“So,” he starts, stretching the word out as his eyes flicker over you with a mix of curiosity and amusement, “how long you been friends with Lilah?”

You set your glass down on the low table in front of you and cross your legs, meeting his gaze head-on. “Long enough to know she’s trouble.”

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Yeah, Miles says the same thing, but I think they balance each other out.”

“Definitely,” you agree, your lips curving into a small smile. “She keeps him in check, though. You should’ve seen her last week when he left his sneakers in the living room. I thought she was going to throw them out the window.”

LaMelo laughs, shaking his head. “Miles? Yeah, that sounds about right. Dude’s messy as hell. He leaves his stuff everywhere in the locker room too.”

You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head slightly. “And you’re not messy?”

He smirks, leaning forward a bit. “I didn’t say that. But I’m smarter about it. I know when to clean up.”

“Oh, so you’re strategic about your messiness,” you tease, the corner of your mouth twitching upward.

“Exactly,” he says, his grin widening. “You get it.”

There’s a pause, not awkward but charged, the kind of silence that feels more like a question waiting to be answered. His eyes stay locked on yours, the intensity of his gaze softened by the hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“You’re not what I expected,” he says finally, his tone thoughtful.

You blink, surprised. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, leaning back again, his arms draped casually along the top of the couch. “I don’t know. Most people at these parties, they’re either trying too hard to impress or acting like they don’t care at all. But you… you’re different.”

��Different how?” you ask, narrowing your eyes slightly.

He tilts his head, studying you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “You’re real. Like, you’re here, but you’re not trying to be seen, you know? And you’re funny. Most people wouldn’t call me out for being messy two minutes into a conversation.”

You laugh, feeling a flush of warmth creep up your neck. “Well, maybe you’re just easy to tease.”

“Oh, I am?” he asks, his eyebrows lifting in mock surprise.

“Definitely,” you say, your tone playful. “You’ve got that vibe.”

“What vibe?”

“The kind that says you’re used to getting your way, so you don’t know what to do when someone gives you a hard time.”

He lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Damn, you don’t hold back, huh?”

“Not really,” you admit, shrugging. “But you don’t seem to mind.”

“I don’t,” he says, his voice softening just enough to make your stomach flip. “I like it.”

For a moment, the world around you seems to fade, the noise of the party dulling to a distant hum. He’s leaning slightly closer now, his elbows resting on his knees as he looks at you like you’re the most interesting thing in the room. And maybe it’s the drinks or the way his smile feels like a secret he’s letting you in on, but you find yourself leaning in too, just enough to match his energy.

“What about you?” he asks suddenly, breaking the silence.

“What about me?”

“Why are you here tonight?”

You laugh softly, gesturing toward the general chaos of the party. “Lilah dragged me, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he echoes, his smile turning teasing. “But you’re staying. That means something.”

“Maybe I just like good company,” you counter, raising an eyebrow.

“And am I good company?” he asks, his tone dipping just enough to make your pulse quicken.

You meet his gaze, holding it for a beat longer than you probably should. “You’re okay,” you say finally, your lips curving into a teasing smile.

“Just okay?” he asks, feigning offense as he presses a hand to his chest. “Damn, I thought I was doing better than that.”

“You could be,” you reply, leaning back and crossing your arms. “Guess you’ll have to step up your game.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Alright, I see how it is. You’re a challenge.”

“Is that a... bad thing?”

“Not at all,” he says, his grin softening into something more genuine. “I like a challenge.”

And just like that, the banter shifts into something deeper, the playful teasing giving way to a quieter connection. You can feel it in the way he looks at you, like he’s trying to memorize every detail, and in the way your own walls start to lower, letting him in just a little more than you expected.

And for the first time that night, you wonder if Lilah was right. Maybe this party was worth it after all.

The night deepens, the party’s energy settling into a comfortable rhythm as conversations grow louder and laughter fills the spaces between songs. The buzz of a few drinks has made everything feel lighter, easier, and you find yourself more at ease than you’ve been in a while.

LaMelo is right there with you, his laughter rich and unrestrained, his eyes lighting up every time you say something witty. You’ve lost track of time somewhere between his playful teasing and the stories you’ve been swapping, your banter feeling less like a first meeting and more like reconnecting with someone you’ve known forever.

“You fell off a jet ski because... you weren’t paying attention?” you say, your laughter bubbling over as he shakes his head, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips.

“I wasn’t paying attention because my brother was trying to race me!” he defends, leaning forward as if his explanation will make it sound less ridiculous.

“And how’d that work out for you?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He laughs, shrugging. “It didn’t. Clearly.”

You shake your head, the grin on your face refusing to fade. “You’re a mess, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” he says, his gaze steady on yours. There’s something in his tone, in the way he looks at you right then, that sends a small thrill through you.

As the conversation flows, the space between you feels smaller, even though neither of you has moved. The music thumps steadily in the background, but it’s like you’ve created your own bubble, the party fading into a distant hum.

At some point, Lilah and Miles return to your little corner, Lilah plopping down next to you with an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, I’m officially tired,” she announces, though the glint in her eye suggests she’s anything but.

“You’re always tired,” Miles teases, slinging an arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t start,” she warns, though her smile softens the words. Her gaze flickers between you and LaMelo, and you can see the gears turning in her head.

“What?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at her suspicious expression.

“Nothing,” she says, dragging the word out as she leans closer. “Just noticing how much fun you’re having over here.”

“Lilah,” you warn, though you can’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips.

“Don’t mind her,” LaMelo says, his voice easy and warm. “She’s just jealous I’m better company than she is.”

“Oh, please,” Lilah scoffs, though she looks thoroughly entertained. “Anyway, we’re heading out soon. You two wrapping this up or what?”

You glance at LaMelo, unsure how to answer, but he beats you to it. “Not yet,” he says simply, his eyes still on you.

Miles chuckles, standing and pulling Lilah to her feet. “Alright, we’ll leave you to it. Don’t have too much fun now.”

“We won’t,” you say, rolling your eyes as they walk away, though you can feel your cheeks heating.

LaMelo leans back, his expression unreadable for a moment before he smiles. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you say, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “They’re just... nosy.”

“They mean well,” he says, his tone easy. “But they’re definitely nosy.”

You laugh, and just like that, the playful atmosphere returns. Another round of drinks later, you’re both laughing over some absurd story he’s telling about a teammate, the kind of laughter that makes your stomach ache and your eyes water. You can’t remember the last time you felt this comfortable with someone so quickly, and it’s equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.

As the night winds down, you find yourself sitting closer to him than you were before, the warmth of his presence almost tangible. When the conversation finally slows, he looks at you, his expression softening.

“This was fun,” he says, his voice quieter than it’s been all night.

“It was,” you agree, smiling.

“I should probably let you go before Lilah comes back and drags you out of here,” he says, though there’s a reluctant note in his tone.

“Probably,” you say, but neither of you moves right away.

After a beat, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, holding it out to you. “Here. Put your number in.”

You hesitate for only a second before taking it, your fingers tapping at the screen as you save your contact. When you hand it back, he glances at it, his smile widening just slightly. “Got it.”

You stand together, and he walks you toward where Lilah and Miles are waiting near the entrance. LaMelo lingers as you say your goodbyes, his hands tucked into his pockets and that easy smile still on his face.

“You heading out too?” Miles asks, clapping LaMelo on the back.

“Yeah, in a bit,” he says, his eyes flickering to you briefly.

As you step outside into the cool night air, Lilah hooks her arm through yours, a knowing smile on her face. “Well, that went better than I expected,” she says as you walk toward the car.

“What do you mean?” you ask, though you can feel your heart beating a little faster.

“I mean,” she says, drawing the word out, “that Melo doesn’t usually exchange phone numbers. He usually... invites girls over.”

“Oh,” you say, your voice softer than you intended.

“Oh,” Lilah mimics, her grin widening. “Girl, he’s interested. And don’t act like you’re not, too.”

You don’t reply, but the small smile that creeps across your face says more than words ever could.

The morning sunlight filtered through your curtains, warm but unwelcome as it coaxed you awake. You squinted at the brightness, groaning softly as you turned over in bed. The faint hum of last night’s energy still lingered in your veins, memories of laughter and teasing banter replaying in fragments. Your mind, unbidden, drifted back to LaMelo. The way his smile had crinkled the corners of his eyes, the low timbre of his laugh, the quiet confidence that seemed to fill the space around him.

You reached for your phone on the nightstand, swiping it open almost instinctively. No messages. Your stomach sank a little, disappointment curling low in your chest. Not that you were expecting anything—not really. Still, you’d exchanged numbers. It wasn’t unreasonable to think he’d reach out. A simple “good morning” or a follow-up joke from last night. Something.

But the screen stayed blank.

With a huff, you tossed the phone aside, telling yourself it didn’t matter. You barely knew him. He owed you nothing. And yet, you couldn’t ignore the slight pang of rejection. Shaking off the feeling, you got out of bed and set about your day, throwing yourself into work to keep your mind from wandering too much.

The next few days passed in a blur of tasks and deadlines. You kept busy—busier than usual, if only to distract yourself from the lingering thoughts of LaMelo. You told yourself you weren’t thinking about him, that you didn’t care whether he texted or not. But every time your phone buzzed, your heart betrayed you, skipping a beat before you realized it was just an email or a message from Lilah.

By midweek, you’d all but convinced yourself to forget about him entirely. Clearly, whatever connection you thought you’d felt hadn’t been mutual. And that was fine. Disappointing, sure, but fine. You’d move on. You always did.

It was late afternoon when it happened. You were sitting at your desk, half-focused on your laptop while sipping from a cup of tea. Your phone vibrated on the table beside you, a faint buzz you almost ignored. But something made you glance over.

One new message.

You picked up the phone, the screen lighting up in your hand. And there it was.

hey, it’s lamelo

Two words. That was all it took to send your heart into an unreasonably giddy tailspin. You stared at the message, your mind scrambling for a response even as your pulse quickened. You tried to play it cool, telling yourself it wasn’t a big deal. But the stupid smile tugging at your lips betrayed you completely.

For a moment, you just held the phone, rereading the message as if it might disappear. Finally, you started typing back, deleting and retyping several times before settling on a response.

hi, took you long enough

You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the send button. Was that too flirty? Too casual? But before you could overthink it any further, you hit send, the message disappearing into the ether.

The wait for his reply felt endless, though it couldn’t have been more than a minute. When your phone buzzed again, your heart leapt.

had to make sure you’d still be interested

You laughed out loud, shaking your head at his audacity. It was classic LaMelo—cocky but somehow charming enough to pull it off.

and what if i wasn’t? you shot back, your fingers flying over the keyboard.

His response came almost immediately.

guess i’d have to work harder to change your mind

You smiled, biting your lip to keep from grinning too widely. If there was one thing LaMelo knew how to do, it was keep you on your toes. And, despite yourself, you realized you were more than okay with that.

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