#anyways thank you social media for letting me see this on the days i wake up feeling petty!!!!!!!!!

[fxa]

tumblr is my only social but occasionally i do indulge in visiting other sites and looking up people i didn't like in high school to rejoice in how awful their lives are now

[bbyjackie]

𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈'𝐒 𝐆𝐅 — ♡

one piece social media + dating feat: sanji

》 almost everyone wanted sanji's ver

♡ liked by sogekingg.usopp, FRAAANKY and 3.9k others

_ynln: hard launch

tagged: blackleg.sanji

theroronoa.zoro: what is he pondering so hard about 💀💀 (liked by nicorobin)

↳ blackleg.sanji: i was staring at a polaroid of the most beautiful, fantastic, gorgeous, jaw-dropping, mind consuming, pretty, lovely, enchanting, heart-throbbing, charming, attractive, cute, captivating, bewitching, stunning, irresistible, elegant, heavenly.. see more

↳ theroronoa.zoro: oh my god forget i asked

sogekingg.usopp: wdym your relo has BEEN hard launched since like four months ago 🤨🤨

↳ _ynln: sad 💔💔 i wanted to soft launch it but that was never possible

↳ theroronoa.zoro: i was trying to sleep and all i heard was screaming

↳ lovenami: real, if i was sanji i would be shocked too if i pulled yn ☝️

↳ blackleg.sanji: @theroronoa.zoro I HAD TO ANNOUNCE TO THE WORLD THAT MY DEAR YN SAID YES 💞💘💝💗

↳ sogekingg.usopp: y’all got NO faith in sanji 😭😭

p1rateking_luffy: what's hard launch?

♡ liked by theroronoa.zoro, ilovecottoncandychopper and 5.3k others

_ynln: he made me dinner, i might just cuff him rn 😪🤞

tagged: blackleg.sanji

p1rateking_luffy: OOOO IM COMING TO THE KITCHEN RIGHT NOW 😄😄

↳ blackleg.sanji: don't even try, i locked the door

↳ p1rateking_luffy: LET ME IN!!1!1!!1

↳ theroronoa.zoro: LUFFY STOP BANGING ON THE DOOR I CAN HEAR YOU FROM THE GYM

↳ p1rateking_luffy: LET ME INNNN PLEASEEEEE

↳ _ynln: luffy omg wait im making you a plate 😭

↳ p1rateking_luffy: OOO THANKS YN

↳ p1rateking_luffy: btw whats a hard launch

_ynln: @blackleg.sanji you actually look so fine in this photo i might just have to delete it 😮‍💨😮‍💨🫵

↳ blackleg.sanji: ANYTHING YOU WANT MY LOVE 😍😍😍

blackleg.sanji: DO IT. I WOULD GLADLY MARRY YOU MY LOVE. IF THAT MEANS THAT I GET TO BE WITH YOU EVERY SECOND OF THE DAY I WILL GET ON MY KNEES RIGHT NOW. I WILL COOK FOR YOU FOR EVERY MEAL AND BUY YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT BEAUTIFUL GIRL 🧎🏼‍♂️🧎🏼‍♂️❣️❤️‍🔥💓💘💗💞💝💕

↳ _ynln: ok 😭

♡ liked by nicorobin, p1rateking_luffy and 13 others

priv.ynn: usopp is a real one for taking these photos ☝️☝️

tagged: blackleg.sanji

sogekingg.usopp: I AM THE CERTIFIED BEST WINGMAN 💪💪

blackleg.sanji: I WILL KEEP THESE PHOTOS IN MY WALLET AND PUT THEM NEXT TO MY PILLOW SO THAT WHEN I WAKE UP I AM REMINDED THAT I HAVE BEEN BLESSED I LOVE YOU MY YN 🥰🥰😘😚🤩

↳ theroronoa.zoro: yn blink twice if you need help

↳ lovenami: ngl yeah that was a bit concerning 😭😭 (liked by nicorobin, sogekingg.usopp)

↳ priv.ynn: EVIL AHHAHA

p1rateking_luffy: yn what's hard launch?

CAPTAIN.KIIIID: i hate happy people

ilovecottoncandychopper: i love that you guys love eachother ❣️

↳ nicorobin: agreed

↳ priv.ynn: AWW YOU GUYS <333

♡ liked by _ynln, S0U1K1NGBR00K and 7.4k others

lovenami: robin w us in spirit </3

tagged: _ynln

S0U1K1NGBR00K: May I see both your panties? 🤲

↳ lovenami: words cannot explain how much i DONT want that (liked by _ynln)

↳ blackleg.sanji: NO ONE DESERVES TO SEE SOMETHING SO INTIMATE OF YN'S OR NAMI'S I WILL FIGHT YOU 🤺🤺‼️

sogekingg.usopp: YOU GUYS SAID WE'D GO SEE BARBIE TOGETHER WTF ?!?

↳ _ynln: WE LITERALLY INVITED YOU BUT YOU WERE TOO BUSY MAKING FUNNY FACES WITH LUFFY 🤨🤨

↳ sogekingg.usopp: YOU SHOULDVE SLAPPED ME

↳ p1rateking_luffy: WAIT I WANTED TO SEE BARBIE TOO

↳ p1rateking_luffy: anyway what's hard launch?

↳ lovenami: luffy you can barely concentrate on a five minute video, we aren't taking you to the theatre for two hours 💀💀

↳ _ynln: yeah luf, love u but you're gonna be bouncing off walls by the 20 minute mark 😔😔

nicorobin: so pretty! (liked by _ynln, lovenami, blackleg.sanji)

↳ _ynln: MISSED U SM ROBIN 💔

↳ blackleg.sanji: I AGREE MY YN LOOKS SO GORGEOUS SHE RIVALS EVEN GODDESSES, I LOVE HER SM I WOULD FLOP OVER A PUDDLE BECAUSE DIRT DOES NOT EVEN DESERVE TO BE WITHIN HER VICINITY ❤️‍🔥❤️‍���💗💘‼️💝💕💞❣️💘🥰😍😘😚😮‍💨😍☝️🫵

↳ FRAAANKY: sanji im worried you're one more comment away from a restraining order

blackleg.sanji 2h

[blackleg.sanji] _ynln replied to your story: omg sanji stop im so in love with you 😔💞

[izvmimi]

cw: fluff. pop star!bakugou. prior breakup mention. based on the story behind the eyes, nose, lips mv, iykyk.

Even if you guys are closer than can be, your friends are typically more likely to text before they call, especially at this time of night, and less likely are they to accost you in a sudden video call the way they are now. You were asleep, just by stroke of luck waking up to the sound of your phone vibrating on your end table, too exhausted to put your phone on Do Not Disturb. It’s just a few minutes after midnight, 12:06 am to be exact, and when you pick up the phone, both of them appear frantic.

“Oh, thank God.”

“___, please tell me you’re away from a phone right now.”

“Dumbass, we’re literally calling her on the phone right now.”

“Don’t call me a dumbass.”

Still rubbing your eyes, you let out a sigh.

“Why did you two call me?” You’re still horizontal, trying to orient yourself while lowering your phone brightness. It’s entirely dark in your room, and you’ve been exhausted all day between errands and other activities, including a single 25 minute cry over your failed relationship.

It’s been 3 months since you and Katsuki split, and while you’ve overall been handling it quite well, intermittently the sadness overtakes you. After all, it was abrupt.

Dating a pop star was not all it’s cracked up to be, especially when it ends abruptly over a dinner you could never afford yourself with the words “take care of yourself, okay?” from a man you’d planned the rest of your life with. The last thing you’d asked him to do before that was to go public, and he’d been hesitant to, and you don’t know what happened between then and that night, because it all ended all too quickly, with you crying on the limo ride home. 

3 months later and you were almost over it until you chanced on a photo you’d forgotten to hide away in your digital memoirs and proceeded to sob.

“So uh… have you spoken to Katshole recently?”

You roll your eyes at the nickname your friend has given him, not bothering to tell her now to be nice. “No.”

It still annoys you. “Please stop calling him that.”

“Fine.”

Your other friend sighs.

“So uh, anyway, he dropped a video.” You raise your eyebrow.

“I mean, sure. Is the girl in it hot?” you ask. You pretend you haven’t been looking at his social media intermittently, trying to see if there was someone new in his life, but either way Katsuki prided himself on keeping his private life hidden away, so you wouldn’t be able to tell unless it was someone equally famous or advantageous to his career.

Your two friends both grimace at the same time. One says, “I mean yes, but not in the way you think.”

You blink.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You’re up and seated now, bedsheets pulled to your lap. You’ve minimized the video and are now typing his name into Google, and can see, indisputably, that he’s posted a new music video.

“Why did you guys wake me up for this?”

“Babe, listen to me carefully. If you’re not ready to get back together, do not click this video.”

Your heart thumps, while both of your friends watch you with bated breath, as your face contorts, trying to figure out what that means.

“I-”

“You’re in the video.”

You blink rapidly, your eyebrows still furrowed together, as your heart rate starts to pick up. Your mouth opens then closes.

You’re in the video.

“She’s done for,” one of your friends says, reading the look on your face, and sighs. “I’m gonna hang up, I’ll see you in the morning.”

All of you say your goodnights, and of course, you remain up, your face basking in the blue light of your cell phone, as you watch Katsuki’s urgent music video supposedly with you in it.

The video culminates in Katsuki, standing by a painted mural, and you recognize the photo, an image of your face from the first time he flew you out to paint in Italy, something that would have won any girl over just from the expense and planning, but won you over because he chose you as his model, because you can still remember how his lips parted as he mixed the right colors for your hair.

I’m sorry, please pick up my call, the video closes with the words written in his handwriting, and said with his voice, and you can feel the tears streaming down your face as you wordlessly cry.

And then your phone rings.

[writingstoraes]

hard liquor, hard launch 🥃

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: instagram imagine/social media au

notes: not proofread and not revised so please expect errors hehehe please lmk what u think by replying or messaging and if u wanna be part of my taglist! <3

about: charles goes out drinking with friends and he "accidentally" reveals you, when you were supposed to be lowkey

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, arthurleclerc, isahernaez, and 1,056,333 others

charles_leclerc I miss my baby so muxh plsaee come pick me up i should not have drsnk tonight yourusername pick me uppp now plsease!

arthurleclerc I guess we're done with the soft-launches now?

pascale_leclerc Why are you joking at a time like this go help your brother!

charlitoferrari IS CHARLES DRUNK AND DOING A GIRLFRIEND REVEAL????

cl16f1 girllll i knowwww all this time mans has been hiding his girl from us 😭

pierregasly I know I should be a good friend and take away his phone but he's giggling while typing it is a sight to see

landonorris Help him??? Give him another shot!!!

charles_leclerc

liked by danielricciardo, lilymhe, carlossainz55, and 1,773,450 others

charles_leclerc YES OKAY! I hav a girlffiend. Weve been togehrer for about a year now so the whiskey whispered to me tonigjt to introduce her to you guys ❤️❤️❤️ Je taime babyyyy yourusername

yourusername charles i am on my way give someone else your phone amour :)

lilymhe Props to you for acting so cool when we all know you're sprinting towards the door while on a call with us

yourusername idk maybe tell your boyfriend to confiscate my boyfriend's phone!!!!!

sainzmyhero AWWW SHE SAID MY BOYFRIEND

danielricciardo Dont know what's about to go down the paddock in the next few days but I'm sure the PR team of Ferrari is going to have a field day 🤣

charles_leclerc

liked by alex_albon, lewishamilton, sebastian_vettel, and 997,005 others

charles_leclerc My red girl ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ PS. Shes mine and if anyone tries anyjthing funny, I will race you 🏎

ferrarilover this is so amusing bye

charleschampion Who knew drunk Charles was very affectionate

carlossainz55 Oh he is

isahernaez And how do you know that???

pierregasly You do not wanna know, Isa

yourusername

liked by arthurleclerc, yukitsunoda0511, mickshumacher, and 305,456 others

yourusername package secured, charles is at home and asleep after all the ruckus he caused tonight 🤦‍♀️ anyway now that the jig is up, i guess no more being lowkey for us then hahaha let's all wait for him to wake up tomorrow with a headache and vow to never drink again 🫶 for what it's worth, i love you too, charles_leclerc! forever & always 🤍

also thanks to pierre for taking this picture, charles has lost his balance halfway home! he was so heavyyyy lol

carlossainz55 I am really going to miss the "Take a picture of me but don't show my face!" era 😔

landonorris I have so many videos of Charles you can use to blackmail him, Y/N

yourusername such a tempting offer

landonorris Im serious I have it from all angles

ilpredestinato How does it feel to have Charles as a boyfriend

yourusername very eventful :')

---------------

tagging: @slytherheign pls watch f1 this is ur sign

notes: how do you guys like it so far? lmk what u think! tysm for reading ♡

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman - Part 8

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe : Military School

Words :

TW: Alcohol

Masterlist

——————————————————————

Saturday, October 24; 9:05 AM - Ona's Room

I try to get out of bed without waking anyone around me. Damn camp habits. Bronze had warned me that I'd get into a new rhythm. Now I'm like clockwork at ridiculous hours. I used to wake up around noon, not nine! Once I'm out of bed without a hitch, I grab some clothes from my closet and lock myself in the bathroom. With everything that happened last night, I didn't have the courage to take a shower before bed. So, I start my day by letting myself relax under the warm water jets. I take my time since the Mapi and Joan certainly won't be awake for a good hour. It's the calm before the storm. Joan promised me a surprise if I came back. That's probably still on since the others knew I was coming back. Hopefully, he hasn't invited the whole family. He loves everyone, unlike me. I get out of the shower after fifteen minutes. I don't risk turning on the hairdryer with the two sleepyheads, so I dry off with just a towel. I get dressed and brush my teeth. I finish with a touch of makeup before going downstairs. It's time to see the others. I'm glad not to run into my mom or Marcus on the way. However, I smile when I see Samuel and Sofia in the kitchen. My smile widens at the sight of their faces.

"Oh my God,Ona!" says Sam, hugging me. "Happy birthday!"

"Already awake!?" Sofia is surprised. "Happy birthday, sweetie."

"Thanks, that's kind of you," I reply, hugging her in turn. "I missed you guys."

"And we missed you! Everything's been so quiet since you left."

"No one to bother us," Sofia adds.

"I'm only here for two days, but I plan to make up for it," I tease them.

"No doubt," laughs Sam. "Do you want your breakfast now, or are you waiting for the girls?"

"Given when they'll wake up, I'll have it now."

He nods with a smile and gets to work. I find my spot at the bar. I no longer insist that I can cook for myself. He always brushes me off when I do. He keeps telling me it's his job. It's true, but it makes me feel like I'm being pampered. I hate that idea because it reminds me that I won't be able to do anything when I leave home. I won't complain either. His dishes are delicious. They have nothing to do with camp food. Besides, it's nice to do nothing, so might as well enjoy it.

"Since when do you get up so early? That's not like you," Sofia comments.

"I've been like clockwork for a week. Curfew at ten PM and wake-up at six. I guess I haven't lost the habit."

"Isn't it too hard?"Samuel replies

"No, it's fine. I prefer it this way. »

"Seen like that... Knowing you, you probably slept the whole way."

"Yeah," I chuckle. "Thanks," I say when he places my breakfast in front of me.

"You're welcome, miss," he teases with a wink.

He made me a cup of hot chocolate and a homemade croissant. Everyone would say there's not much difference from my camp breakfast, but for me, it's a big change. Sam knows how to perfectly dose my hot chocolate, and his homemade croissant is life. I savor it all, letting out a sigh of satisfaction.

"Did you miss it?" he chuckles.

"Totally, yeah!"

"I'm flattered," he says, making me smile.

"Have you received any birthday messages?" Sofia asks.

"I was about to check now."

"What? You haven't checked yet?" she exclaims. "My God, what have they done to our Ona?"

I chuckle lightly. I was asking myself the same thing, actually. I'm much less on my phone. I no longer have the reflex to check it upon waking up due to our fifteen-minute preparation time. I suspect the school did it on purpose to give us such a short deadline. I should have asked Bronze; she would have answered me. It's like the shower. We had to change our habit with Alexia and take it in the evening to be at ease. Anyway, I decide to take out my phone, which is swamped with social media notifications and messages. I start with the messages. Alexia, Leah , Alba... All my camp friends thought of me. They're so sweet! I also have other messages from old friends here, which really pleases me. I take the time to reply to everyone while chatting about trivial things with Sam and Sofia . I talk to them about my new life while they tell me about Joan's antics since I left. It seems he doesn't stop. He's decided to avenge my departure by being a perfect little rascal. He throws fits over nothing and barely listens to my mom or Marcus. Sofia or Sam often have to step in. I think he's decided to follow my example, which I don't really like. I'll need to have a little chat with him. Speaking of him, he just walked in and immediately comes over to me.

"Hi Oni ."

"Hello little rascal. Slept well?"

"Yes! Mapi is still sleeping."

"Let her sleep, she'll be down soon."

"Can I have my breakfast please ?" he asks Samuel.

"I'll bring it to the dining room in five minutes."

"Can't I have it here?" he pouts. "I want to stay with you!"

"Of course you can. Come, I'll put you in the chair next to me."

"I want to sit on your lap!"

"Alright, alright, as you wish," I laugh. "Come here."

I lift him under the arms and easily place him on my lap. I hold him with one hand and grab my cup with the other so Sam can put Joan's plate instead of mine, which is now empty. I smile as he starts telling me about the weeks I missed while eating. Of course, I don't hear any of his mischief from his mouth. I prefer not to spoil the moment and deal with that problem later. Mapi finally shows up around 10:30. I expected to see her later.

"When did you get up?"

"Nine o'clock."

"Good God, they must have brainwashed you," she grumbles, sitting next to me.

"Don't you start too," I laugh.

"Are you staying for breakfast, Mapi ?" Sam asks.

"What kind of question is that!"

I giggle, finding the question as silly as Mapi does. She's like the third daughter of the family, after all. I wait for her to finish her breakfast while chatting. Joan abandoned us halfway to go upstairs. I don't comment on it, but I feel like something's up.

"Maps?"

"Hmm?" she replies with her mouth full.

"What does Jo have planned?"

"Nothing, why?"

"We both know you can't lie."

"Stop being impatient, you'll see."

"Mapi..." I say, making puppy dog eyes.

"No, no need for that face! I'm not telling you anything!"

I sigh, pouting, making her smile. She used to be easier to convince, in my memories.

"By the way," she says.

"Yeah?"

"We're going out tonight."

"You're not serious?"

"I am, and it's non-negotiable. You haven't been to a party since-"

"A year and a half," I finish her sentence.

"I was going to say a century, but it's almost the same. Come on, please! It can only do you good!" she says, giving me puppy dog eyes.

"Stop imitating me," I say, her expression worsening. "Oh, you're annoying! Fine, you win," I grumble.

She lets out a cry of joy and does a dance in the middle of the kitchen. It stops quickly when my mom enters the room. It's the first time we've seen each other since my troubled departure, which didn't end particularly well.

"Oh, hi Abby," she blushes.

"Hi Mapi, it's been a while," she says before turning to me. "Happy birthday, Ona," she says hesitantly.

"Thanks."

I won't ruin my birthday by venting my hateful thoughts. My voice betrays me slightly. It's not like we have a good relationship to begin with. Everything just got worse when she decided to send me across the country.

"How's school?" she asks.

"Oh, great, Mom," I say sarcastically. "If you wanted me to be monitored all the time, you nailed it!"

She sighs at my anger that I couldn't hold back any longer. What a question to ask! She finally gives up on the conversation and turns to Mapi.

"And you, Mapi ? How's your leg?"

"Good, I'd say. I still don't have any pain for now."

"That's at least some good news... See you later, girls," she finishes, leaving the room.

My mom has been Mapi's doctor since we met. She had an accident with her parents when she was little. She came out with a slightly disabled leg. They developed a special bond. My mom is certainly closer to Mapi than to me. It's ironic, given that Mapi doesn't have this bond with her parents. She left their house at the first opportunity. I'm glad she found this bond with my mom, but I'm also jealous. She got the maternal instinct from my mom that I didn't get. As long as it doesn't stop Mapi from listening to me when I complain about my mom, I don't care about their relationship.

"Shall we get ready?"

"I'm already ready, Mapi."

"Are you kidding? Your hair is a mess. And don't tell me you're going to spend the day in jeans and a shirt?" she criticizes, looking me over.

"Hey! My outfit is perfect!"

"There's no way you're staying like that on your birthday! Come on, get up!"

"Oh, please Maps, shut up. You sound like my camp supervisor."

She forces me off my chair, laughing. I let her drag me to my room. I don't know why, but I feel like I'm not going to enjoy what's next.

Saturday, October 24; 11:35 AM - Ona's Room

Mapi has been hogging my bathroom for a while now, even though the shower hasn't been running for some time. Knowing her, I probably have a bit more time before she comes out. She made me put on a dress. Me, in a dress! It's been ages since I last wore one. But that's the least of my worries right now. I was lying on the bed, enjoying the quiet, when I had the brilliant idea to charge my headphones for the return flight. So, I took them out, but I also came across another gift that I had completely forgotten about. Bronze's gift... I wondered why I listened to her and didn’t open it right away. I could have easily done it in the taxi without her knowing.

"What's that?" Mapi snaps me out of my bubble.

"A gift."

"Thanks, I figured that out," she replies sarcastically. "From whom?"

"My supervisor," I sigh.

"Sexy commander?"

"Stop calling her that," I scold, giving her a dark look.

"Oh my! What are you waiting for to open it?"

"I don't know."

"Want me to do it for you?"

"No!" I reply much too quickly.

"Well, do it then."

I feel ridiculous for not doing it, but I'm disturbed. I don't know what to expect; she doesn't know me. I sigh and start to carefully unwrap the paper under Mapi's watchful eye. Besides, she already contributed to the headphones. It's silly for her to give me a second gift. Mapi mocks my slowness, but I don't let it bother me. I frown as I finally see the contents. For now, I'm only paying attention to the small card placed on top of the box. I turn it over to find a note. I smile, recognizing her handwriting that I've seen several times during my tidying in her office.

"After so much effort... A well-deserved reward! Hoping you'll continue down this path. Happy birthday, Ona. - L. B."

My smile doesn't leave my face. L. B.? So her first name starts with an "L"? The "B" surely stands for her last name. I place the card next to me on the bed and remove the lid of the box to discover the rest. I'm left speechless.

"Wow. Sexy Commander really went all out! This stuff isn't cheap, is it?"

"No... She’s insane!"

I can’t believe my eyes. It’s my favorite brand for drawing supplies. One of the most expensive for its quality. Even Mapi recognizes it, having come with me to buy it before. It's a set with different pencils, pens, and brushes of all sizes. She also included a sketchbook underneath. There’s everything needed to create artworks. It's a real treat for an amateur artist like me.

"She must really like you to give you all this."

"That's not really the case," I laugh. "We were at war for three weeks. I even went so far as to trash her room. Didn't I tell you?"

"Yes, you did," she laughs. "But she wouldn’t have given you such a gift if she didn’t like you at least a little! Seriously, this stuff costs a fortune!"

I can't argue with her. She must have spent quite a bit. Not to mention her contribution to the headphones. They’re worth at least two hundred euros, and I doubt the others managed to pitch in that much between the six of them. We’re interrupted by my brother entering my room without knocking.

"Ona? When are you coming down?"

"We’re coming right away," Mapi answers for me. "Just let your sister put away her new toys."

"Ha ha ha!"

I remove the wrapping to throw it away before packing my new supplies into my backpack. I plan to take this one to camp. I have everything I need here, unlike there. I unplug my now charged headphones and put them in the bag.

"We can go."

Nothing could make my brother happier. He pulls me as hard as he can out of my room. Mapi follows behind us after closing my door.

"Hurry up!"

"Calm down, Joan. There's no rush!"

"She’s using my old expressions!"

I look up as my foot touches the ground floor. The shock stops me in my tracks. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. My eyes well up when I see him in person before me. I never expected to see him here again.

"You're ruining your makeup," Mapi whispers to me.

I ignore the comment meant to make me laugh. I don't want to spoil this important moment. I go to my grandfather, who takes me in his arms. It’s been two years since I last saw him. All my emotions pour out once again.

"Grandpa!"

"You haven't changed a bit," he says, making me smile.

I can't believe he made the trip from Portugal just to see me. It’s insane! I’ve always been very close to him because he bears a striking resemblance to my father, both physically and mentally. We share a very special bond, just like I did with my father.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"Did you think we’d miss our granddaughter’s birthday?"

I turn towards the other voice to see my maternal grandmother. I smile warmly at her. It’s not that I love her any less, far from it. She’s just as adorable as my grandfather. But she lives in Barcelona, so I see her much more often than him. I still greet her with a hug, happy to see her here.

"How about we celebrate Ona’s birthday and chat over a drink in the living room?"

We all agree to Marcus' suggestion. I hadn't even noticed him enter the hall. Joan impatiently drags me to the next room. In the end, I might really enjoy this birthday. I'm still on bad terms with my mom and Marcus, but I put my resentment aside for this moment. The atmosphere was tense at first, but Mapi is here to lighten things up. She’s great at diffusing awkward situations. Joan also helps by talking non-stop. That’s how the conversation topics emerged. We talked about daily life and then reminisced about past years. The festivities were kicked off by my grandfather sharing stories from when I lived in Portugal or visited on vacations. Mapi had a good laugh at some of the stories. I'm the first to laugh as I remember them. We’re interrupted by Sam announcing that the meal is ready. We move to the dining room where a perfectly set table awaits. The only times I’ve eaten here are for celebrations like today. I can count them on my fingers. I smile when I see the dish. Sam prepared paella, one of my favorite dishes. He knows my tastes well from cooking for me. The good mood continues through dinner. It’s the first time there’s been so much cheer in this room. Usually, it witnesses crises or arguments. That’s one reason I rarely set foot in here. It’s where I learned about my departure to Manchester , for example. I'm delighted that today’s event changes things for this place. I’m happy to be surrounded by my loved ones today.

Saturday, October 24th; 9:30 PM - Barcelona Street.

I sigh for the umpteenth time since we left the house. I try my best to keep up with Mapi, who is ahead of me.

“Slow down!” I shout. “It’s bad enough that you made me come out, but you’re also making me wear heels. The least you could do is wait for me! These things are a death trap!”

“Didn’t they teach you to complain less in that damn school of yours?” Mapi teases.

“Ha ha ha! Very funny. You know it’s my specialty, and it will never be taken away from me!”

Focusing too much on my feet, I bump into Mapi’s back as she suddenly stops without warning. I look up and realize we’ve arrived. It’s not hard to figure out with the loud music blasting from the house across the street.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. This is our Party?”

“Yep!”

“A college party, really? At our old high school friends’ house, no less?” I grumble.

“I figured going to a familiar place would be best… Oh, come on, don’t make that face! I told them about your big return, and they were all thrilled to know you’d be coming tonight.”

“Damn it, Maps…”

“Relax a bit. You need this night out, and we both know it.”

She stops me from protesting by pulling my arm. I attempt to walk as normally as possible in my heels. I hate wearing these things. Mapi knows I never walk very straight in them. I’m usually all about flat shoes. As soon as we step inside, the music pounds in my ears. I wonder how I ended up here. I doubt it’s a good idea. It’s been so long since I’ve been to a party. I already regret giving in to my best friend’s puppy-dog eyes. I regret it even more as we approach the host and my old high school friends, whom I abandoned years ago.

“Hey, look who it is!”

I timidly step forward from behind Mapi, who is still holding me firmly. She must know that if she let go, I’d already be running away. Especially since Nathan Miller, the host, makes me uncomfortable with his comment.

“Hi everyone! As promised, I brought our favorite girl.”

“Hey…” I say timidly. “Good to see you all…”

“You too, sweetheart. I hope you haven’t forgotten us after all this time!”

Why was I so worried? They have every reason to hate me, but they don’t. Maybe because they’re all guys. Let’s face it, they’re less complicated in friendships. I smile at Kyle’s comment and feel the pressure lift from my shoulders. I didn’t expect to see him here. I eagerly await Mapi’s explanation for this. They all surprise me by wishing me a happy birthday. Mapi must have reminded them before we came. It still makes me happy.

“Ana didn’t come with you tonight?” Bryan asks.

“No. She was supposed to, but she ended up at another party. She wanted me to go with her, but I chose to spend the weekend with Ona. By the way,” she says. “She wants to meet you when you come back,” she tells me.

“No problem, I’m looking forward to it.”

“She’s a real nutcase, don’t be too eager to meet her,” Connor whispers to me.

“Hey, I heard that!” Mapi retorts. “Don’t call my girlfriend crazy, or you’ll see!”

“Well, you have to be a bit crazy to date you, don’t you think?”

“Are you implying you’re crazy, by any chance?”

“Oh, but I’ve always claimed that, haven’t I?” I join in.

“All right, 1-0, Batlle,” she says, making me smile. “We’re going for a walk, we’ll catch up with you later.”

“No worries, see you later, girls,” Nathan replies.

I just lifted a weight off my shoulders seeing them. We hadn’t seen each other since the end of high school, yet nothing has changed. They were my last group of friends before my downfall and ghosting them. I thought no one would want to talk to me anymore, but they don’t seem to hold it against me.

“What’s Kyle Wick doing here? Have I missed that much?”

“Oh yes,” she laughs. “Let’s get a drink before we go outside to talk. Does that sound good?”

I nod, and we head to the table serving as a drink buffet. Numerous red and blue cups are arranged there. We grab two clean red cups, and I let Mapi serve us. That was always her role when we went to parties. She probably knows my tastes in alcohol better than I do. She hands me my cup and surprises me by also handing me a bottle of coke. I smile, seeing that she’s holding a bottle of orange juice and vodka under her arm. Well, she’s right. Might as well enjoy it if I’m already here. We head outside, where there are fewer people. Luckily, two lounge chairs by the pool are free. We sit next to each other. I finally take a big gulp of my drink, closing my eyes as it burns my throat. Mapi laughs at me. There’s a reason to laugh. I haven’t had a drop in a long time, and it feels great!

“So, what do I need to know?”

“Hmm, well… let’s see…” she pretends to think. “First, Miller and Bryan are dating.”

I spit out the liquid I was supposed to swallow. My head quickly turns to Mapi. She answers before I can open my mouth.

“Yeah, I was as shocked as you are,” she giggles. “They confessed their love for each other a year ago now. We were all stunned. I chose not to tell you at the time… You were in the middle of… well, you know.”

“Yes, I understand… Oh my god,” I laugh in shock. “I didn’t see that coming and, I didn’t expect to see him here.”

“He’s become friends with my friends,” she shrugs. “I can’t blame him. »

“And Connor?”

“Not much on that front. He brought a girl recently, but it didn’t lead to anything.”

“I didn’t think you’d still be hanging out with them,” I admitted.

“Except for you, we all stayed around for college,” she shrugs. “We just kept in touch, I thought it was good.”

“It’s true,” I say, lowering my head.

“You don’t have to feel guilty, Ona. We don’t blame you. We know it was hard for you.”

I hide my sadness behind a smile. She shifts to a few juicy stories from parties or other events during my absence. I regret not being able to join in. The stories were pretty funny. An hour and a half later, after finishing three-quarters of the bottle between us, we decide to join the others around the patio table. I’m tipsy enough to agree to play silly games I would have hated if I were sober. My state doesn’t improve after several shots during “Never Have I Ever.” Mapi took the opportunity to drag me to the dance floor right after. She knows it’s the only time she can get me there, thanks to the confidence alcohol gives me. We have fun dancing closely. After a while, I notice the boys have joined us. They must not be in a better state than me to have come. Fortunately, Miller offered for us to stay the night if we wanted. I wouldn’t have had the courage to walk home in this state. I tell myself it’s my birthday, so I have the right to enjoy it! Midnight must have already passed, but it doesn’t matter. I lost track of time since my phone died. It’s been ages since I had this much fun. Laughter keeps ringing in my ears. A body presses against my back during a dance, but I don’t pay much attention. I even have fun dancing closer to her. From her build, I’d say it’s a girl. Everything was going great until I feel her hands on my hips and her voice chills me to the bone.

“I missed you…”

I snap back to reality in less than a second. I stop dancing and quickly pull away from him. I need to see to believe it. Unfortunately, it’s real.

“Feli…” I whisper.

“Ona-”

“Don’t come near me!” I scream.

“No, wait-”

She tries to grab my arm, but I flee outside. I thought she’d understand I don’t want to talk to her, but her voice calling me from behind as I head to the back of the garden tells me otherwise.

“Leave me alone!”

“Please, listen to me!” she yells back.

I sigh, realizing I’ve trapped myself against the hedges. I turn around, pointing a finger at her.

“Stop! Don’t come any closer!”

To my surprise, she stops a meter away. Just seeing her in front of me makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I never thought I’d see her here.

“Please,Ona-”

“Shut up! I’m the one talking here,” I shout. “What are you doing here?”

“A friend of your friend.”

“I don’t want to see you anymore, Feli. If I wasn’t clear when I left, I am now!”

“Ona, please, let me speak.”

I look at her for a long time, trying to judge her. I try to discern the truth in her. One thing is for sure, her sad face doesn’t help at all.

“Two minutes,” I relent.

“I’m really sorry for everything I did,” she begins, knowing I’m serious. “I wasn’t myself. You know drugs make us do things we wouldn’t want to... I know I crossed the line more than once with you, and I regret it. I never wanted to hurt you, quite the opposite... I love you, Ona. I always have, and I know I messed up. I really lost it, and that’s why I asked for help... I’m seeing a therapist,” she admits, lowering her head. “He’s helping me get better, and so far, it seems to be working. I’m not asking for your forgiveness... I know it would be too hard for you, but I’d like you to give me another chance when you feel ready... I-... I’d like to be part of your life again...”

“Let me stop you right there. Get the idea out of your head that we can be together again because that will never happen! Is that clear?!”

“OK, OK,” she replies quickly. “M-maybe not a relationship as I’d like... B-but maybe a friendship, or-or...”

I laugh bitterly. Damn, why did I have to run into her. I run my hand over my forehead and push my hair back.

“No.”

She looks at me with wide eyes. She doesn’t need to act surprised. She ruined my life.

“In your pathetic speech, you’re right about one thing, Feli. I can never forgive you for all your damn actions,” I say, enunciating each word. “I trusted you! You told me you’d give me a better life, but in reality, you’re just an asshole! You have no idea how many scars you left on me! I wonder why I’m even talking to you, damn it.”

I step closer to her, pointing my finger at her chest.

“I forbid you from approaching me again, or it will go very badly for you.”

I keep my composure as best I can. The alcohol helps me hide my anxiety in front of her. I give her one last look before leaving her without regret. I’m not going to ruin my evening because of her. Mapi doesn’t even notice my absence since she asks me to join her at the drink stand as if nothing happened. She keeps dancing and singing while pulling me along. Instead of pouring myself a drink, I grab a bottle of tequila and head to the kitchen. Mapi looks more than happy with my initiative and shouts for the guys to join us. I plan to finish my night as it started. I’ll have plenty of time to regret it tomorrow when I return to harsh reality.

[kelogsloops]

putting this in the tumblr ask box bc idk where else to put it 🕺 does anyone even read these still

anyways i just woke up but i had a dream and you were a big part of it- i don’t want to say it was a nightmare or like a bad dream but like basically in the dream you announced that you would be quitting art and like retiring ig? it was for a few reasons but in that moment idk i just realized just how much you have had an influence on my life- you know that saying “you don’t know what you have until you lose it”? yeah…

honestly at first when i woke up i was so ready to call it a nightmare, like “oh my god?? you?? leaving?? forever?? noooo!” but as i’m sitting here awake now i realize eventually it’s probably gonna happen- maybe not in the way it was in my dream with you making a whole like announcement video and wiping your accs, but maybe quieter. i wonder if it’ll be that you stop making art, but i find that hard to imagine. i think it would happen slowly, less and less posts as the years go on. in my head even if you stop posting it, i’d think you’re still creating, making art for simply the sake of such. but then i think about how silly that thought is though, i don’t know you outside of your social media bubble. i don’t know your life and what happens there so to even assume something so quiet is pretentious of me. 

like i said, at first i thought it was a nightmare, i can’t bear the thought of you leaving one day- especially for the reasons you gave in my dream it was like “i gave up, arts getting too much for me, and things are so competitive now no one wants my art anymore…” blah blah blah. it was all my own stress as an artist manifesting onto you i think- but anyways i hope that should the day ever come where you do end up leaving your socials and whatnot, i can only hope that it’s out of your own accord and you do so because you want to, not out of pressure or anything like that. like i’m not saying i want you to quit or anything, but what i’m saying is if it happens i just hope it’s something that you chose on your own. i just don’t think i could ever stand that happening though without letting you know how much of an impact you’ve had on my life. 

i found your art when at a very developmental part of my life, so your work wether consciously or not i think has just become like a part of my brain wether conscious or not haha. whenever i go to draw even if i don’t explicitly go to look to your work for inspiration, it’s still there i can see it. it’s like just unconsciously ingrained at this point. but more than that though the whole idea of like “brb chasing dreams” and whatever and the whole idea that i feel you impart every time you share pieces of your journey as an artist to just keep going, i kind of stole that mantra for myself and started to tell myself that as well. even at my lowests, i’m still trying to follow that dream, even lost and i don’t know what direction i’m going in there’ll always be that dream as an anchor almost.

thank you for all that you’ve shared and thank you for being the biggest inspiration in my life. i know that’s quite dramatic to say, but i mean it in full honesty. whatever the future holds for you, i hope it’s kind. i hope you live a long life chasing all your dreams where at the end of the day, you’re happy. thank you. 

waking up to find a message like this in my inbox has me feeling t e a r y. it's reading stories like these and hearing how my work has impacted people that makes this all feel so surreal sometimes. the fact that people would even care if i stopped making art one day or just disappeared is crazy... i'm very fortunate!

i've resigned myself to the fact that sure, one day (but hopefully never) i won't be able to pursue a professional career as an artist anymore, but if there's one thing that i can promise, it's that there is no reality in where i stop making art!

i don't know if i show it enough, but to each and every one of you who have been part of my journey so far, thank you from the bottom of my heart. it's messages like these that pinch me and remind me how it's all so worth it

forever #brbchasingdreams

[hxney-lemcn]

Worth It — Alex [Adult World] x gn! reader

summary: reader is sick, so they have to call out. Only for Alex to surprise them and becomes their personal nurse for the day.

tw: mentions of insecurity, a bit of self neglect

a/n: I love his character so much. He's such a sweetheart and I needed to write some tooth rotting fluff. Also, I normally don't care for sick fics, I don't typically get sick so it's hard for me to relate to them, but this just hit me out of nowhere.

wc: 2k

Master List

The moment I woke up I realized there was no way in hell that I was going to work. My head held a dull throb and my body was aching even though I hadn’t moved a muscle. My throat was sore and I couldn’t stop sniffling. I blindly reached over to my night stand. Shuffling some random things I swore I was gonna put away but never got to, I finally found my phone. I let out a small groan as the light blinded me, making my head pound a little harder. 

I sleepily messed with my phone, barely registering what appeared on the screen. Before I could debate whether to text or call, my body already seemed to press the call button for my manager. I sleepily closed my eyes as the dial tone sounded through my ears. I willed myself not to fall asleep, blinking my eyes open. 

“Hello?” The soft tone of Alex’s voice greeted me. 

“Hey,” I rasped. Damn I sounded bad. I coughed, trying to clear my throat a bit.

“Are you okay?” He asked. I can practically see the concerned expression he held on his side of the phone.

“Mhm,” I murmured, fluttering my eyes like that would suddenly wake me up. “Well…I guess not. I’m not feeling too good, don’t think I’ll make it to my shift. Sorry.”

“No worries,” Alex replied. “Shit happens.”

“There aren’t many workers though,” I mumbled, fatigue taking over. “I don’t want you having a double shift.”

His soft laugh sounded through the phone, “Don’t worry, you were paired up with Amy. I’m sure she’ll understand. Not like a lot happens there anyways.”

Halfway between sleep and being awake, I managed a hum. It was silent for a minute, and I felt myself slipping deeper into the dark abyss of sleep, only to be violently pulled out of it by Alex’s voice once more.

“You…you got anyone to help you?” He asked. Even with my sick, fuzzy addled mind, I couldn’t help but melt at how much he seemed to care for me. Yet my fuzzy mind seemed to forget how Alex and Amy totally had the hots for each other.

“I’ll be fine,” I hummed. “Jus’ sleep it off like I normally do.”

“...okay,” He replied quietly, I almost missed it if it weren’t for the fact my head throbbed the longer the call went. “Get well soon.”

“You too,” I replied, confused at why Alex chuckled. A few beats too late, I realized my mistake, “I meant thanks.”

“See ya,” He chuckled lightly before the call hung up. I tried to put my phone back on the nightstand…only to hear it go crashing down to the ground. Without an ounce of care, I shuffled into a more comfortable position closing my eyes, finally falling into an okay sleep.

Having woken up a few hours later, I mindlessly scrolled through my social media. It was hard for me to concentrate on anything. My head felt only slightly better, the throbbing has dulled into an ache. I had only gotten up to go to the bathroom, the thought of making something to eat was too big to conquer in my current state. 

The sound of knocking at my door startled me, causing my body to tense, which in turn caused my body to ache. I let out a sigh, unsure who could possibly be visiting me right now. Then my phone buzzed, Alex’s cute smiling face popping up as his contact photo. 

I blinked a few times before answering, “Hello?”

“Hey!” Alex replied, sounding far too chipper for the day you’re having. “I thought I’d stop by to check up on you. Mind letting me in?”

Even though I wasn’t as tired as I was earlier, it still took me a second to comprehend what he said, “Oh, yeah, sorry.”

Hanging up quickly, I stumbled out of my bed, only to pause because the world started to spin around me. Whether it was the lack of food, low iron, or sickness, I wouldn’t know. Perhaps a combination of the three. After I knew I wouldn’t fall or pass out, I rushed to the front door. Alex smiled at me from the other side, his curly hair slightly ruffled, lifting a plastic bag up.

“Come on in,” I mumbled, holding the door open for him. After he entered, he placed the bag on my living room coffee table as I closed the door behind him. “What’cha got there?” I asked as I took a seat on the couch next to Alex. He made himself at home, but we’d hung out quite a bit outside of work.

“I got some cold medicine, cough drops, y’know, the works,” Alex shrugged. “Wasn’t sure what you had. I also got some candy.”

“Oh, Alex,” I crooned, softening at the information. “You really didn’t have to.” 

At that exact moment, like the world wanted to laugh at me, my stomach grumbled. I pressed a hand on it, glaring as it wouldn’t stop. 

“Did you eat anything?” Alex asked, his smile stayed, but the look in his eyes turned to one of concern.

I paused, hesitating to admit it, “Nooooo?” He gave me a disapproving stare and I rambled my excuses, “I was too tired, and okay…yeah and lazy. But I’m so sore, it hurts to exist.”

“You should’ve told me,” Alex replied with a small pout. Damn he was too cute for his own good. “I would’ve picked something up for you to eat.”

I rolled my eyes, leaning my head to rest on the couch, “I’m not gonna make you waste your money on me.”

“It’s not a waste,” Alex fought back, nudging me lightly. Even so it caused my body to flare up with an ache, a small ‘ow’ escaping me. “Sorry,” He winced. “But you gotta eat to get better. And knowing that you're better would never be a waste.” 

I felt warm, warmer than this current sickness was making me. Alex patted my knee on his way up off the couch. I watched as he made his way to my kitchen. I knew that he wouldn’t find much. I’ve been procrastinating on my much needed grocery run, and now it seems to be biting me in my ass. 

Fatigue creeped up on me once more, and I decided to lay down on the couch. I turned the tv on, switching it to something to try and keep me entertained. My eyelids felt so heavy, but my hunger started to overpower it. I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of pans in my kitchen, Alex must’ve found something to make. 

I wasn’t sure how many minutes passed until Alex made his way back into the living room. He placed a steaming hot bowl on the coffee table in front of me, and then started rustling through the bag. 

“Once you get that food in your system I’ll give you a dose of this dayquil,” Alex motioned to the bottle he held. 

I let out a long whine, “Do I have to?” 

He raised his eyebrow and I sighed. Grabbing the bowl, I looked down in surprise, “Chicken noodle soup? I didn’t realize I had any.”

“Lucky find,” Alex smiled, plopping down into the loveseat next to the couch.

“When’s your shift?” I asked before starting to eat the soup. Must I say, it was doing a number on my throat. I took a second to just drink the broth, reveling in the comfort my throat felt. 

“I’m supposed to close,” Alex sighed, kicking his feet up. I let out a sound of disapproval. “I might just tell Amy to close early though.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, “Why?”

Alex blinked at me, giving me a look like I should already know, “To make sure you don’t rot here.”

“I’m not a kid,” I grumbled, plopping the bowl back on the coffee table.

Alex just shrugged, that boyish grin tugging on his lips, “You just ate for the first time today and it's noon.”

“That's called bad self care,” I pointed at him. 

“Exactly,” He nodded, soft curls bouncing with the motion. “Which means I’ll be here to take care of you.”

I opened my mouth, trying to think of a rebuttal, but the thought of Alex taking care of me somewhat short circuited my brain. No ones ever really taken care of me like that. Especially not since I moved out of my parents place. But even when I was an older teen, my mom just kinda expected me to care for myself. Told me where to find the medicine and left it at that. So for him to be so willing to take care of me, and admit to it so casually, it really threw me for a loop. 

“But close is when it gets busy,” I muttered back feebly as Alex poured me some dayquil. 

He looked at me with amused eyes handing the cup over, “I think you’re a bit more important.” 

I felt butterflies flow through my stomach, and I started to drink the vile liquid. Alex seemed to falter, losing a bit of confidence, “I mean…if you don’t want me to I can head out.”

I scrunched my face as I finally finished the dayquil and shook my head. I sat up fully on the couch, looking off to the side, “I just don’t want to waste your time.”

I missed the way Alex frowned, eyebrows furrowing. I didn’t realize he sat next to me until the couch dipped, and we sat thigh to thigh. I looked over to him, unsure if I may have gone too far with my self depreciation. I know it can be a drain on people, but most of the time I don’t even realize I do it.

“Hey, look at me,” Alex murmured. My throat tightened and I turned away, coughing into my elbow. 

“I’m gonna get you sick,” I commented, scooching away slightly. Only for Alex to close the gap again.

“I don’t care,” He dismissed. “You’re important to me. Nothing I do for you would be a waste because it’s for you.”

My heart felt like it was going into overdrive. My eyes danced over his face, meeting his dark brown eyes which held such a sincere burning passion it was like I could feel gentle flames lick at my skin. Looking down, my eyes landed on the small freckle on the end of his nose which I always found incredibly cute. Finally ending at his pink lips. I felt myself flush as I realized I was staring at his lips for a little too long before rushing to meet his eyes once more.

“You keep saying stuff like that and I might just fall for you,” I muttered, my brain feeling fuzzy once more. A mix of love sickness and regular sickness. 

Alex hummed, a bashful smile forming on his face, “I’m just sayin’ the truth. But if that's the outcome I won’t complain.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore just how close we were to each other, “You’re gonna get my hopes up that I have a chance.” I said it before I could stop myself. I’ve never been so forward before. Stupid sickness, it was making it hard for me to think, to keep a filter. Stuff I typically keep to myself spilling out through insecure words. 

“With you on my mind 24/7, I think you’ve got the biggest chance,” Alex replied boldly, causing my neck to snap to him. I stared at him in shock, mouth slightly open, unsure how to reply. “N-not in a creepy way though.”

“I-is this a confession?” I asked, letting out a small cough. 

“...only if it doesn’t ruin things between us,” He replied hesitantly, his vulnerability clearly shown. 

I smiled bashfully, not believing that this was actually happening. I looked down at my hands as I fidgeted with them, “Well, it just so happens that I think about you 24/7 too. Not in a weird way.”

Alex let out a soft laugh, our eyes meeting in joy. Reaching over, he grabbed one of my hands with his, and I couldn’t help but notice how his hand seemed to engulf mine. Suddenly, he kissed my cheek.

“You’re seriously gonna get yourself sick,” I grumbled, trying to mask how much he really affected me. 

“You’re worth it.”

[evansbby]

GIRLIE GIRLIE GIRLIE LISTEN LISTEN LISTEN. I HAVE AN IDEA FOR A REQUEST.

[Its also 03:57AM and I’m crying my eyes out, so I might regret this when I woke up lolllll]

Hear me out, hear me out, hear me out. See the visionnnnn. So, this is my request:

Sugar daddy!Ari AU. This is a little after the reader becomes his girlfriend. The reader hasn’t really gotten it into her head that she’s not just his sugar baby, but she’s his love, so she tends to hide her feelings and pain and raw emotions from him because she wants to sort of keep up the image of her being his sexy personal nymphomaniac because she thinks he’ll leave if she’s real with him.

So let’s say, something happened. Maybe an argument with her terrible family or her shitty friends gossip about her or she’s burnt out from taking care of others or someone shames her for something, idk, you’re the author, you decide what happens, but anyways.

Something happens that made her extremely sad and miserable, but she’s trying to hide her feelings from Ari, she pretends everything is fine (it’s not lol), she’s acting a little weird cos she’s trying to keep up appearances so that he won’t dismiss and discard her, etc. But Ari, being her daddy and the smart motherfucker he is, knows that something is wrong with his precious girl.

So basically, shit goes down with her and Ari and he soft doms her (maybe a little hard dom too) and comforts her and reassures her that she’s his girl and not just a plaything and all that lovey dovey shit. Oh, and aftercare lol! Only if you want to.

This probably could’ve been said in fewer words, but I’m crying my eyes out and it’s a little cathartic to type this out lol, sorryyyy. Thank youuuu! Love your writing!

Oh I would love to read this 😭😭😭

But you see I’m insane so I need to make it more sad so if I were to write this…

I’d make it so that reader is very insecure and she thinks she’s not good enough to be Ari’s girlfriend (kind of along the lines of what you said) and she thinks she’s only good enough for sex bc she has zero feelings of self worth 🤧🤧🤧 and no matter what Ari says or does to reassure her and uplift her, she just doesn’t believe him😔😔

And she keeps pushing herself away from him, bc she thinks he deserves better bc he’s such a nice guy and it’s not a normal sugar daddy relationship bc Ari doesn’t even expect sex from her (although they do have great amazing perfect sex) but Ari just loves talking to her all night, getting to know her interests, buying her special gifts that match her interests… And reader is overwhelmed bc she’s sooo insecure and she thinks she doesn’t deserve this happiness. She’s scared of letting herself be happy in case Ari “wakes up” one day and realises he can do better and leaves her🥲 (he wouldn’t but she thinks he will).

So then one day she gets so overwhelmed that she breaks up with him impulsively. But we all know what a strong mature wise perfect daddy Ari is, so he’d be like “let’s talk this out” and she bursts into tears and tells him that he deserves better and that she’s broken and she needs to go away so he can start living his life instead of always worrying about her 🥲🥲🥲 and Ari tells her that he’s in love with her and he couldn’t live without her and then they have sex 🥺🥺🥺 where Ari is being a soft dom and sooo perfect and sexy and reader needed this bc she needs him to tell her what to do so she can relax and stop worrying. Her mind never turns off during the day and she’s wracked with insecurities and fear, but with Ari… he lets her mind go blank so she doesn’t need to think, and she feels okay.

But then she’s up all night and Ari is asleep and she watches him and all her insecurities come back and she thinks that he deserves better and he can’t spend his whole life with her as a burden just bc she’s so insecure all the time 🥲🥲

So she leaves… without a note or a phone call or anything. In fact, she moves far away to live with a distant relative and deletes her social media. Ari calls her and texts her every single day, begging her to pick up or come back etc and she changes her phone number 🥲🥲🥲 some of her friends tell her that Ari is miserable and he’s still looking for her and waiting for her but she hopes he will move on soon.

Anyways then reader starts working on herself, she gets a job in an industry she likes and she makes some new friends. She starts seeing a therapist and slowly, bit by bit, her confidence starts to grow. She realises she deserves love as much as anyone else does. And she misses Ari so much bc he really was the love of her life 🥹🥹 it’s been a whole year now and one day she decides she wants to see him again. She wants to try again and hopefully he’d be open to getting back together with her.

She shows up at his door with Chinese takeaway (their favourite meal they’d have together) and Ari answers the door and he’s shocked to see her. And she says she thinks she’s all whole again, she thinks she’s fixed and she’d like to give it a try with him once more. And she got food 🍲

But then she looks beyond his shoulder and sees another girl. And Chinese takeaway already on the table. He’s moved on. She’s heartbroken. But she smiles and tells him she’s happy for him. He tries to stop her but she leaves.

THE END 😭😭😭😭

[pawnshopbleus]

Put Me in a Movie - Chapter Two

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary - You’re a famous actress and he’s one of the greatest directors of all time. What happens when you get cast in his new movie?

Chapter One

There was nothing essential to do right now. You had the opportunity to lounge around in your house so you took it. Later, you would have to get ready for an event you were invited to. You loved dressing up and attending events. They made you feel like an important person, but you loved being comfortable even more.

You stayed in bed thirty minutes after waking up just scrolling through Instagram and TikTok. The edits fans made of you on red carpets or in movies always warmed your heart. You remember being one of those fangirls and how much getting recognized by one of your idols would mean to you.

Stella called you about five minutes after you got up to use the bathroom. She was calling to tell you that she has more information. You were going to play a Russian spy that falls in love with an American soldier during world war two. “And you’re getting paid a million dollars upfront as well as one percent of the total box office revenue. You are one lucky son of a bitch,” Stella laughed.

“Stella, you know I don’t like it when you say stuff like that,” you playfully scold your agent over the phone.

“Sorry, but it’s true. Anyways, you have a table ready to do tomorrow so please don’t get shit-faced at the event tonight. I know you like to party, but we can’t have another New York Fashion Week incident,” Stella remarked.

You were invited to New York Fashion Week two years ago and were never invited back. At the after-parties, you had one too many drinks, and the next thing you know, photos of you sleeping on the sidewalk were all over social media. Luckily, it only took two weeks for the media to forget about the whole incident. Let’s just say New York City is a place you don’t go unless you absolutely have to.

“I’m a good girl, Stella, I’ll have a few shots at the after-party and I’ll be on my merry way. No more sleeping on the sidewalk for me.”

“Fine, I’ll see you soon.”

You hung up the phone and sighed. Other than Stella, no one really ever talked to you. There were a few people here and there, but they were only interested in furthering their careers. There are shallow and fake people in Hollywood and you’ve definitely met a few. When you move to a city like this it’s almost inevitable. It’s like high school but worse.

You pushed the loneliness aside and turned on the television. There was never anything good during the mornings so you just settled for the regular old news channel. The two news reporters provided you with sufficient background noise to get you through the day.

Around two in the afternoon, your hair stylist, make-up artist, and stylist came over. The type of event you were attending tonight was a fashion show and then the after-party. You were the brand ambassador for the fashion house so you had to look your absolute best as you sat in the front row.

Your hair stylist and make-up artist did quick work on your already beautiful features. Your make-up artist went with a very natural and glowy look that would make you look ethereal. Your hairstylist lets your natural hair out and loose. Tonight you were just going for a simple yet classy look and you felt like doing an intricate hairstyle would take away from your face. Your stylist put you in the brand's latest design and complemented the way you looked in it.

You checked yourself out in the mirror and you were completely blown away by your beauty. This usually happens when you get all dolled up for a premier or an event. The last time you checked your phone it was two thirty, now it was five twenty-three and you needed to leave soon. You thanked everyone that enhanced your beauty today and waited for your driver.

The event was in the heart of downtown. Thirty minutes of sitting in the back seat of a limo with only the sound of you and your driver breathing was going to drive you insane. Thankfully, you made it to the event alive.

The designs on the runway were beautiful and camp. The fashion house had already showcased its ready-to-wear line last winter and was working on bringing in younger designers for some fresh ideas. You were paid to be here so you had to look interested and intrigued by the designs. You saw some pieces that you wanted and some that you absolutely loathed but by the end, you were ready to party.

The after-party was being held at some mansion in Beverly Hills. You don’t know how you got there, but does that really matter? Right now, you were doing shots in Beverly Hills of all places. Shot after shot after shot. The burn disappeared after the third one anyway.

You know you promised Stella not to get shit-faced again, but sometimes promises were meant to be broken. You were twenty-six after all and you were never going to be twenty-six ever again. Luckily, you weren't the type of drunk to get on the table and strip, but you were still sort of embarrassed by your state. It’s not your fault alcohol tastes so good.

Outside by the pool, you lay on one of the tanning chairs. You’re facing the night sky while also trying not to throw up. Your eyes are blinking slowly. You mentally fight with yourself not to fall asleep. You can’t fall asleep now! “You okay there?” A voice asks. The voice came from the left of you. You turn your head to see who was talking to you and you’re faced with one of the most majestic beings ever. His face is chiseled to the gods and his voice is smooth like butter, but also harsh like rocks. It’s hard to explain but it definitely does something to you. He looks like Adonis reincarnated.

“I’m fine. I think I just had too much to drink,” you slur your words a bit but they’re still understandable.

“Ya, I can see that,” he chuckles. He takes in your tired frame. Your make-up is a bit smudged from a night of partying but you still look beautiful nonetheless.  “How about I take you home,” he offers.

“Woah there mister, you are obviously very attractive but I don’t just go home with people. I don’t even know your name,” you sat up. You must have sat up too fast because soon your head was pounding.

“Miguel,” he said, “Miguel O’Hara.”

You must have sobered up enough to get your act straight. This was Miguel O’Hara, the director you would be working for for the next few months. You couldn’t let him see you like this. You didn’t want him to think that you were just some drunk party girl that doesn’t take acting seriously.

“Oh, Mr. O’Hara. I’m-” You tried to introduce yourself but he just waved his hand causing you to shut your mouth.

“I know who you are,” he said, “Now, I don’t want my actors to show up to table reads with hangovers so I think it’s best if I take you home.”

You didn’t want to argue with him so you followed him to his car. It was a modest black Range Rover with a black leather interior.

“My address is-” You started but once again he interrupted you.

“I know where you live. Stella gave me your address after I told her that you were drunk.” You groaned, “Stella’s going to kill me. I promised her I wouldn’t get drunk.”

Miguel just smirked at you and pulled away from the house in Beverly Hills. As the two of you drove, you couldn’t get over the fact that you just decided to trust Miguel so fast. He was technically your boss for the next few months so you had to listen to him.

Miguel’s letting the radio play. He’s playing a station that plays old cumbia music but it does the opposite of its purpose. Instead of making you want to get up in dance, it lulls you into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Chapter Three

[jocelynscrazyideas]

Can u write something about Jackson Edwards’s??

He has no insta pics but search him up on TikTok if you don’t already know him!!!🩵🩵

Free | Jackson Edwards x Fem!Reader

Summary: after a night of fun, you wake up completely convinced you did something wrong. It’s NHL draft day, your boyfriend has been drafted, but abandoned you for a night.

Warnings: angst, fluff, SMUT ⚠️ (unprotected pls be careful and use proper protection)

•◌•◌•★•◌•◌•

It’s draft night. Jackson hasn’t called me yet.

In our relationship, we cant see eachother for at least three hours before something very important like games, meetings, school events, or the draft.

It’s been more than three hours. It’s been 13. I came to the draft in Montreal, 2022. Jackson had invited me to come. I’m staying in a room by myself, the family decided to get one, and Jackson was supposed to share with me. For good luck. Last minute he decided to stay with a past teammate.

“Im just saying, he either is sticking to the unspoken rule we have, or I did something really bad when I was drunk.” I’m on call with my bestfriend, Piper.

“No. He’s just probably really busy. And he slept in a room full of guys he’s known since- like what? 16. Don’t sweat it. He’ll come around.” She calms me down.

I’m pacing back and forth in my hotel room. I packed up everything, it’s the last day to stay. We check out today at 6:30 and the draft is at 4:18. I’ll check out early but I would be leaving Jackson alone in Montreal for a night.

~

“With the number 200 pick, the Boston bruins draft… Defenceman Jackson Edwards!”

I scream in excitement, I remember looking at Jack to see what he was going to do. If he either was going to hug his mom, or me. He slides a smirk at me, hugs me and lets go. He pushed his lips onto my cheek, leaving a deep kiss. He warps his body around to flip over to his mom.

“I love you. Thank you for always supporting me.” He whispers to her. I’m forever grateful for this boy being in my life. He’s such a mammas boy.

I watch him walk down the stairs and up to the stage. Montreal, what a special place.

~

I didn’t see Jackson for hours because he was already filming social media content for the bruins, and to mention the endless press always talking to him for q&a’s.

“Hey babe, I’m on my way to the hotel, I was wondering if you wanted to spend the night here. You know instead of going back home.” Jack left me a voicemail.

Honestly, I was too angry at him to even think about him. I love him so much that my head hurts. I could be sent to a ward if I didn’t know I was crazy for our love.

I immediately texted him back,

Uhh, yeah sure. I would be mega jet lagged anyway, I would rather do it with you. Heading over to the room 🩷

Okay see ya soon, door is unlocked 🐱💦

ew. No.

read

~

I make it to the room, the door was held open by someone’s shoe. “Babe?” I crept through the door.

“Wait!” Jackson yells through the room.

he came running to the door, pushing me out of the room. “I have a suprise.” He laughs and backs away. Leaving me alone in the hallway, with a visible open door.

“Hurry! I look stupid! Is anyone else in there?” I groan in annoyance.

“Settle down, it’s just me. Me and you!” Jackson takes my bags and throws them. I hear a thump from my big suitcase, I’m sure I’ll have to buy a new one. “It’s okay. I can buy you a new bag.” It’s like he can read my mind.

“Come!” He runs his hands up my arm. I reach for the door, he jolts to open the door before I can. I walk in to an empty room.

“I have to leave tomorrow around 4, someone booked me a media conference and it’s all happening so fast, so we should talk about what happened.” Jackson quiets down, as if I were a side gig he had to hide out of embarrassment.

I backed up into the room. Deepening the stay. I sit on a bed, Jackson follows behind me. He sits opposite from me on the other bed in the room.

White sheets tucked into the hotel bed finally wrinkle, I can see his eyes. He’s really hurt. He sucks his teeth. Kissing himself.

“I’m not mad. I’m just confused.” He confessed. He brushes his hair back. His eyes, laser like, burn into my eyes. I have no idea what happened when I got drunk but I’m scared. “So.. I’m sorry?” I pushed out.

Impulsively, I hug him. I feel Jackson tighten his arms around me. His hands wander. “It’s fine. Honestly, I’m just confused why you were dancing in other guys.”

“What?” I’m embarrassed. I was probably so drunk that I thought random guys were Jackson.

“It’s okay.” He pulls his shirt off. He twirled me around. We dance. He rips off my clothes. Laundry every where. New kiss marks appear on my abdomen.

“I don’t care. Ttruthfully, it turned me on.” He laughed out. “But… if you were to apologize, you can show me by..” he trails off. Pulling off his pants. I see his already hard dick.

He’s bare, nude, and already laying down- ready for me. I jump ontop of him. Laying a big kiss on his lips. I stick my tounge into his mouth. He moves his tongue into my mouth. We massage eachothers mouths. His hands wander down to my bare ass.

I slide my hand down his abs. Feeling his love trail under his belly button. I reach for his sensitive balls. Playing with them I stick my finger into his mouth. Reaching for his dick I start to suck down.

~

Feelibg my mouth fill with cum. I hit my gagging point. I pull up, he shoves my head down. I feel like I’m going to throw up. I squeeze his balls harder. He jolts up. And I lift up from his shaft.

Tears fall from my eyes. I gag one last time. He feels my hole, I straddle ontop of him. “Already wet? For me?” He moans out. He grabs me closer, kissing me. Tounges feeling up eachother. He lifts me up, I sit down on him, landing on his dick.

His hardened cock sticks inside. I let out a breathe. Letting myself set up for him. I push him down into his back, I stack a movement, my ass hits his legs, skin smacking skin.

I smell our cum mixing together.

~

My favorite thing about Jackson is his love for physical touch. His aftercare feels so special.

“Go pee. Come back and I’ll have stuff out.” I hurry out of bed to go pee. Jackson pulls snacks out of his bag. He turns on a movie for us. He lays out a sleep shirt of his for me.

I walk out of the bathroom. The hotel smells like fresh laundry. I hear Jackson laugh as I look confused. My body, cold, breast hang, ass out, bare body, I come running to the bed. I slide into the white oversized shirt. Jackson kisses me on my forehead, he whispers affectionate affirmations to me.

He cuddles into me, I let him snuggle his head into my breast. I watch the movie and he eats the snacks.

we have a pro player in our lives, and I’m proud to say that I’ve known him since before his days.

[intheorangebedroom]

Pleased to meet you, chapter 10

Summary: it's Will's birthday, and everyone gathers at his place for a nice Sunday barbecue. You choose a particular -sensible- outfit, and some decisions are made in the heat of the moment.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x French fem!Reader.

Rating: Explicit 🔞

A/N: it occurred to me recently (thank you Fanna) that some of you had subscribed to the taglist without my knowledge... I'm an unworthy idiot and thought I'd get a notif of some sort, so I never thought to check the form out. I'm very sorry. I'm insanely grateful to anyone who interacts with this story. I will never tire of thanking you.

Word Count: 7.1k (I'm very sorry, I don't know what happened, I'm blaming the Millers on this one)

[prev] * [series masterlist] * [next]

Chapter 10: The Deal

(👆🏻 as per usual, from @nicolethered 's treasure trove)

-

Catfish, noun [C] (FISH) : a fish with a flat head and long hairs around its mouth that lives in rivers or lakes.

Catfish, noun [C] (FAKE), informal: someone who pretends on social media to be someone different, in order to trick or attract other people.

Padding out of the steamy bathroom into the adjacent bedroom, you press the home screen button to close the Cambridge Dictionary app and tap open your Larousse translator.

Catfish [‘kætfiʃ] (pl catfish or catfishes), noun : poisson-chat.

None of it makes any sense to you, not in any language you know. Perhaps you should try Spanish? Putain de merde.

Benny’s resounding voice echoes from the living-room, the velvety tones brushing against your naked skin. He’s strumming his guitar to a song you recognise as Creedence Clearwater Revival’s Fortunate Son. The hand holding your phone lowers slowly, your tense shoulders dropping in slow motion as you listen.

Ben’s voice is what you like best about him. It’s the very first thing you noticed, in the hardware store aisle, and also the first that charmed you after your first couple of dates. It trickles down your spine like honey, keeps your inside warm and your mind snug, and when he sings… well, when he sings, on a normal day, it’s plenty enough to turn you on like an electrical wire, and he never gets to play very long when you’re staying at his place.

Only nothing’s normal anymore.

You stood up Rosie at the last minute on Tuesday, unable to face her in the wake of this new reality, instead showing up at work on your day off without an explanation and unilaterally deciding to undertake a thorough inventory of the bookstore. Your boss, Suzanne, was pleasantly surprised, and if something seemed off to her, she didn’t say.

When Benny told you he would see the guys again on Friday night, you attempted to talk him out of it, as subtly as you could despite your nervousness, feeling as though he could see right through you. Which he didn’t.

After closing up that evening, you walked straight to your usual deli, just around the block corner from the bookstore, where the cashier is a Moroccan grandpa with whom you chat in French, much to your delight, and who calls you “cousine”, and bought your first pack of smokes since college.

Back at your apartment, you smoked all 20 cigarettes sitting by the windowsill of your living-room, waiting for a text or a phone call from Benny that never came. He’s not in the habit of texting nor calling you, on Friday nights. He has taught himself to respect your chosen moments of aloneness, with a childlike willingness, eager to please you.

What were you so nervous about, anyway? How likely is it that Frankie would walk up to his friend to tell him, “Hey, I fucked your girlfriend fifteen years ago, and she let me do things to her that she has denied you repeatedly. Want another beer?”

Your manic brain won’t let go about it, however, no matter how sternly you reason with yourself, no matter what logic you employ. Would that eventuality be so far-fetched? You don’t know what these men share. You know nothing of the strength and nature of their bond. Only that they’re like brothers. You’re foreign to that. You’re an outsider. How can you be sure that Benny wouldn’t cut you loose without a second look if his friend told him about what happened between you? Besides, if Catfish looked at you with such unabated anger, he might very well consider it his brotherly duty to warn his friend. “She’s a liar. She’ll never call you.”

The worst being that you can’t make up your mind about what would hurt most. Benny’s abandon. Or Frankie’s betrayal.

If only you knew what the fuck “Catfish” means. If you had this one clue, you might get an understanding of the man he has become. Or so you think.

You put down your phone and retrieve a cotton t-shirt from your travel bag, laying it flat on the bed next to your jeans, smoothing over the fabric with a frown. You brought another choice of outfit, more suitable to attend a birthday party, a cute little white cotton short-sleeves button-up with a red lining around the collar, a yellow one along the button placket and a dark green one on the breast pocket.

Picking up your phone again, you briefly consider running a Google image search, for the hundredth time or so, but instead angrily toss it on the bed, where it bounces off and ends up on the wooden floor with an ominous noise.

“Et merde!”

“Ooooh she’s naked!” Benny appears on the bedroom threshold, dirty blue jeans and shabby Kiss T-shirt, his massive silhouette dwarfing the doorway.

“Sorry, I’m dressing up, I’ll be ready in a minute,” you quickly shuffle back to the bag and crouch down, rummaging through it in search of your underwear. Benny offered weeks, no, months ago, to clear a drawer for you. And a shelf in his wardrobe. You’ve really mastered the art of deflecting, if anything else.

“That’s not what I meant,” he croons, joining you in two long strides, tugging at your arm until you stand up and face him.

“Stop it, we’re bringing the drinks, we can’t be late,” you tilt your head up with a raised eyebrow, your frustration visible.

“I do not care… Come on, I’ll be quick,” he promises with a cocky smile, wrapping both arms around your waist and pulling you flush against him.

“Oh, you’ll be quick? What about me?” you exclaim in mock offence.

It systematically takes you by surprise, every single time, the ease with which this man manages to lift up your mood. No matter how reluctant you are, he just drags the joy out of you.

“I can get you off fast. Three minutes—”

“Three minutes?!” you cry indignantly.

“I like a challenge, come on,” he chuckles, splaying his large hands across your cheeks, drifting toward the cleft of your ass as you try to wiggle out of his embrace.

“Benjamin, it’s late, stop it,” you giggle, but the drag of his lips along the line of your neck is making you weak in the knees already, a small heat flaring up in your belly.

His voice drops another octave and your entire body shudders against his rumbling chest, “Three minutes. Bend over the bed, baby.”

—

Three minutes turned out to be twenty, after what you had to take another shower, and now you’re definitely running late. You’re not cross, however, if anything you feel more relaxed than you have since the beginning of the week. More than quick, he’s been rough, pounding you ruthlessly into the mattress from behind while you frantically rubbed your clit, and perhaps it was just what you needed to straighten your head. To remind yourself that you’re precisely where -and with whom- you’re supposed to be. Because you are. Right?

As you apply mascara in the bathroom, Benny calls in from the living-room, announcing he’s going to start the car. You acknowledge the information for what it means: that gives you five extra minutes, it being the amount of time he likes to run the engine for, before pulling the Mustang out of the garage.

You briskly walk into the bedroom and slip into your sensible underwear and your jeans. The t-shirt you pulled out of your bag earlier slipped on the floor while Benny was fucking you, and you pick it up without looking at it, shoving it back unceremoniously inside the bag. You make a face at the rumpled cotton as you pull out your blouse and lay it on the mattress. As you vainly repeat your earlier motion, trying to smooth the shirt under your palm, you decide that you’re going to ask Benny again about the shelf and drawer, after all, nodding to yourself.

You put on the blouse and start buttoning it up, circling the bed to retrieve your phone from the corner of the room where it fell earlier, and as you pick up the device, the screen unlocks and lights up.

Catfish [‘kætfiʃ] (pl catfish or catfishes), noun : poisson-chat.

You pause for the briefest moment, clenching your jaw and about to rub your eyelids before remembering you’ve got makeup on. Sliding the phone in the back pocket of your jeans, you hurry back to your bag and choose the yellow t-shirt for the second time today.

—

Will is getting a grill for his birthday. An insanely expensive beast of a machine with more knobs than a sci-fi villain’s aircraft. Something he has no use for, since he’s had the same simple, basic charcoal grill since he moved in alone after splitting from Jean. Something Frankie’s dead sure he won’t even like. Pope and Redfly’s idea.

He tried objecting, but he’s no match for the two of them together, and Benny, typically, sided with the two men. So everyone chipped in, Yovanna and you included, he was informed, and Frankie was handed the money in cash and asked to take care of everything, from buying the damn thing, to storing it in his garage and bringing it over to Will’s house on Sunday morning. Everyone else too busy with their respective jobs, kids, girlfriends. He’s the one with the suspension and the big truck parked outside all year round. He’s the one with the empty garage and the empty bed.

When Will opens his front door, bare-chest and his hair still wet, Frankie gives him an eloquent glance from under the brim of his cap, as he moves to the side of the doorway to let his friend see what is hauled up at the back of the red truck.

“Fuck, man, you kidding me?” Will exclaims in his slow drawl. “Why did you let them do that?”

“I tried, brother, I tried. Happy birthday, anyway,” Frankie pats him on the shoulder before walking back to his truck to unload the monster with the help of a trolley.

It takes the two of them to carry it across the soft soil of the backyard, on which the trolley refuses to budge, and position it against the fence at the rear of the garden.

Yovanna and Pope come in soon after with the meats and side dishes, Pope’s winning argument to convince Will to throw a party being that he wouldn’t have to do a thing. While they help set everything on the large picnic table, Frankie starts the grill.

He had flipped through the thick manual the night before, shaking his head and occasionally chuckling at the convoluted instructions. He’d be damned if Will was going to use this thing once, and when he asked his friend whether he wanted him to take away the old grill, Will shot him a “don’t you dare” glance that got him wheezing.

Redfly arrives next with his two daughters, Tess, the eldest, looking like she’d rather stick a fork in her leg than be here with a bunch of old men, her headphones riveted to her head. Frankie notices for the first time, with a pang of sadness, how much she resembles her father, her defeated look reflected on his friend’s face.

The doorbell keeps ringing for a while, more guests pouring into the small backyard, arms full of drinks and food, and gathering around the table. First, the couple from across the street and their two toddlers, and Frankie inquires if they want the kids to eat first, the exhausted father gratefully agreeing to the suggestion. Then the next door neighbour, a cute redhead of indiscernible age named Clare who, Frankie observes, melts on her chair every time Will addresses her, and finally two of Will’s coworkers from the VA.

The table is quickly buried under heaps of food, egg salad, bowls of chips, biscuits and corn on the cob, three different salads, bags of buns and a large plate of homemade arepas brought by Yovanna… So Will neighbour’s suggests to lend him two plastic folding tables to accommodate everyone, that they install after retrieving them from his garage.

Pope plays some music through his Bluetooth speaker and everyone starts loosening up, happily chatting against the sizzling noises of grilling meat.

At which point, Frankie gets fidgety, his carefully crafted composure eroding slowly.

It’s not out of character for Benny to be late, quite the contrary. Even though he’s been tasked with providing the refreshments.

Only, he knows you too will be here. And he came prepared, deciding early on that this day would be a run test for future interactions. Specifically, is he capable of entertaining a polite and distant relationship with you, without feeling like his blood had been turned into lava. Without the need to take the anger out on himself afterward. Without wanting more than just that.

Judging from his increasingly shaky hand clasped around the fancy grill’s spatula, he might have to skip the next couple of happy family gatherings.

—

Will’s house is smaller than his brother’s, although it counts one more room. But being considerably tidier, you’ve always thought it to be much larger.

The front door opens directly into a wide but shallow room, arbitrarily divided into a living-room on the right and a dining area on the left. Beyond this first room, a corridor serves a bathroom and a kitchen to the left, and two small bedrooms to the right, and leads to the well-kept backyard, closed off by a neatly lined white fence.

You’ve been here once or twice before, but when you hang out with the Miller brothers, it’s usually at Ben’s place, or in a downtown bar. It’s not that Will’s house is uncomfortable, the couch is brand new, the fridge well stocked, the TV set modern. But everything about it is spartan, bordering impersonal.

Today, as Will greets you with one of his heartfelt, marked embrace, you can’t help but ponder one more time the contrast between the austere interior and what you know to be the man’s rich, limitless inner world.

“You’re late,” he shoots gruffly at his baby brother.

Ben shrugs carelessly and retorts, “It’s her fault,” tilting his head toward you, before making a beeline to the backyard, carrying a giant beer keg and a cooler filled with beverages with the same ease as if they were fluffy pillows.

Will throws you a skeptical glance and you answer silently with a shake of your head.

“Happy birthday, Will,” you say with a soft smile, and as he moves to follow Ben into the garden, you hold him back, tugging at his plaid shirt. “I’ve got something for you.”

“You mean you weren’t in on the present?” he asks as if it makes more sense, returning your smile.

“Oh no, I am, I wasn’t given a choice, but I got you something else.”

For some reason, you don’t feel comfortable handing him the rectangular, carefully wrapped package you extract from your tote bag in front of everyone, and he senses your hesitancy. He gives you a short nod and you follow him in silence towards the corridor. Somehow, his massive frame looks even more impressive as you walk sheepishly behind him, tall figure, wide shoulders, strong arms. You know him to be slightly smaller in height than his younger brother, but he’s all quiet strength and raw power. You wonder for a brief moment what it must feel like to be facing a man like him in battle, to find yourself on the wrong side of William Ironhead Miller.

He opens the door to the spare bedroom, where you’ve never been before, and before you have the time to withhold it, a faint gasp escapes you.

It’s an office, of sorts, and a cluttered one, with a desk positioned under the single window, covered in notebooks and scattered notes written on loose sheets, an old sofa bed, foam coming out of the thread-bare armrests, and so many bookshelves it looks as though they’re holding the ceilings, the walls barely visible. Rows of non-fiction, philosophical essays, geography textbooks and some exhibition catalogs, several framed military decorations, and framed photos. Dozens of photos.

You’re standing inside William’s brain.

You gape at him in bewilderment, your eyes asking a silent question, to which he replies, “It’s ok, you can take a look,” a knowing smile on his face, and you dart toward the nearest shelf without hesitation.

The picture of the two of them next to the golden retriever is the first one that holds your attention, but there are many more family portraits, some of them with a couple you easily identify as their parents, the boys bearing a striking resemblance to them, and one with a toddler, a girl, holding a very young William’s hand. Everything’s there, a colourful and assorted retrospective of their entire childhood: picnics, mountain hikes, birthdays, first bikes, fishing trips to the lake, graduations… Ben and Will at a variety of stages of their military carriers, lined up in chronological order, as far as you can tell, and because your mind so often works in the same ways as your friend’s.

A growing lump invades your throat, and you begin to blink wildly. You stand here, motionless, numb, unable to pull away from the images, fully aware of the privilege he’s granting you, admitting you into this sanctuary, tucked away from everyone else’s prying gaze.

And then you see it. A group picture of the five of them, siting around a camp fire in front of a large camouflage tent, in what looks like a Middle Eastern scenery. Pope, Redfly, Ironhead, Benny, and Catfish. All of them looking considerably younger. All of them grinning widely. Your heart sinks at the sight of his dimple. How old can he be? Thirty, thirty-five, you assume, his hair short, a soft caramel brown, his face clean-shaven, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes shallow, still, but the crease between his brows deep, already.

You missed out on so much of him. You missed everything.

It takes all of your willpower to turn away and hand Will the package, without a word, not trusting your voice to be steady enough to speak.

He doesn’t tear the wrapping, instead tugging the adhesive open, until the busy book cover is revealed. It’s an exhibition catalog, Bauhaus 1919-1933: Workshops in Modernity, held at the MoMa in 2010, long before you met each other. The first time the two of you visited the museum together, you swung by the bookstore, and you observed him discreetly as he flipped through the catalog’s pages with covetous eyes, eventually replacing it on its pile, with evident regret. It took you a while, several weeks of getting to know him better, before you could understand why. Priced at $75, the book was an unaffordable luxury to him.

You see the surprise play across his handsome features, and you can tell the exact moment when he registers, the memory resurfacing, that milestone in your friendship, the fact that you remembered. You see this solid, pragmatic man, rarely surprised, always prepared, clearly shaken; and as you finally stir to leave the room, wanting to allow him the space you know he needs, he pulls you into his arms, hugging you so tightly it hurts, and he whispers, “Thanks, sister.”

—

“Alright, who wants some alcohol?” Ben shouts into the backyard, his question greeted by a collective and cheerful holler.

Frankie’s knuckles crack in his grip of the cooking utensil, and he has to make a conscious effort to stop gritting his teeth. Ok, he got this, he reminds himself. If he made it through Monday night, he can make it through Sunday afternoon. He turns around to face the house, and his front collides with Ben’s chest, who pats his back with a resounding grunt. You’re nowhere in sight.

“Hey man, wanna beer?” Ben asks brightly.

One of them had a good morning, at least.

“Yea, is it fresh?” Frankie’s voice comes out a bit tense, but he can work on it, he knows he can.

“It sure is,” Ben answers, cracking a can open and handing it to his friend.

Frankie takes a swig of the cool beverage and feels it flowing down his burning throat, scanning the door to the house. You’re still nowhere to be seen.

“You’re alone?” he asks, and immediately winces.

Off to a great start.

“Nah, she’s in there with Will, scheming.”

Ben tries to pick up a wiener from the grill and burns his fingers, swearing under his breath and mumbling something about the size of the machine. Something that Frankie doesn’t hear. His ears are filled with the frenetic thumping of his blood, even though his heart has stopped beating.

Will’s bulky silhouette appeared in the doorway, and as he stepped into the garden, you materialised behind him, pausing there for a moment to let your eyes adjust to the midday light. You’re wearing these jeans again, the ones that are way too tight on your hips, they’re Benny’s favourite, but Frankie doesn’t know that, and it’s not what he sees. What he sees is your t-shirt. A pale shade of yellow, and the print of a book cover. A black cat in a white bow tie, holding a gun in its clawed paw, winking straight at him, and the title in red, bold letters, etched over your breasts, that spell:

The Master and Margarita.

—

You find yourself behind Will again, walking down the narrow hallway to the backyard, but you have to stop on the threshold, blinded by the sudden daylight. It’s early in April, and you recall a Gainsbourg song about April inspiring love. There’s a stereo playing Jefferson Airplane and the smell of grilled meat fills the air. When your eyes adjust to the luminosity, you’re slightly taken aback. You didn’t expect that big of a crowd, and anxiety immediately kicks in at the thought of having to meet new people and make small talk. Something catches your eyes on your right, Yovanna is waving at you, standing next to Pope.

You smile back, relieved, about to step in and join her, when you see him.

A blue and brown plaid shirt pulled taut over his broad frame, the top two, no, three buttons undone, the dip of his collarbones exposed, rolled up sleeves revealing his forearms, locks of hair curling around his ears and on his nape.

When your eyes lock, a faint, wistful smile tugs at the corner of his lips and oh god, you want to crawl under his skin and forever live there.

—

The guests are all seated, now, divided into groups around the three tables in the cramped backyard, except for the neighbours’ kids, who are running around under the playful supervision of Tom’s youngest, Sue.

You’re sitting between Will and Benny, across from Yovanna and Pope, but more often than not, Will’s up and around, refilling people’s glasses, making sure everyone has everything they need. You know him to be more comfortable in quiet settings, but he makes for a very charming host, nonetheless.

Grilling food and preparing the burgers take up most of Frankie’s time, who has yet to sit down and enjoy his own plate. You’ve never seen so much meat, and you don’t think you’ll be able to swallow any for the next two weeks at least.

When Frankie comes over to your table to ask what your party would like to eat, you notice for the first time that he addresses Yovanna almost exclusively in Spanish, whereas Pope and him mostly use English. He’d told you he was born in Argentina, but you’d never heard him use his mother tongue, and it’s invading all your senses. His voice sounds different, softer, rounder, less gruff around the edges.

You won’t let it carry you back to the orange bedroom, not here, not like that, not with your boyfriend’s hand resting on your lap, his thumb rubbing your inner thigh. If you could just effectively control your goddamn breathing every time he lifts that cap and combs through his hair…

“What about you?” his husky voice jolts you out of your reverie. He’s looking straight at you, hands propped on his hips, “What do you want?”

You stare at him blankly, dumbstruck, an instantaneous acceleration in the rhythm of your heartbeat as you feel crimson creeping up your neck and cheeks. Will’s steely gaze is on you as you shift nervously on your hard plastic seat.

Meat. He’s asking about the meat.

“Burger. Rare. Please,” you answer without thinking, before adding hastily, “Wait! Can I have some extra cheese? Please?”

Pope bursts out laughing and Yovanna shoves her elbow in his ribs. A slow, devastating smile appears on Frankie’s face, so broad, so spontaneous, so sincere, all dimple and teeth, and for the first time in this life you’re facing your Frankie, despite the deep creases at the corner of his eyes, despite the cap hiding away his curls, despite the whiskered cheeks stranded with grey, and it’s more, much more than you can stand, you have to lower your eyes onto your egg salad.

The rest of the meal is a game of avoidance, played knowingly and with unexpected skill by the two of you. Every once in a while, you throw each other sideways glances, facing away mere milliseconds before your eyes can actually meet, holding your stare until the last possible moment. But for the most part, you concentrate on Yovanna, exchanging ideas on topics as diverse as politics or cinema, making plans for a girl’s night out with Rosie and some of her friends.

Frankie cooked the food you’re eating right now. You try not to linger on the thought. And he gave you extra cheese, alright, your burger disintegrating in your hands, nearly impossible to handle with the amount he managed to melt on top of the patty.

He loves the way you eat, grabbing the burger with both hands and unceremoniously pushing it into your mouth until you realise there are people around who might be watching.

Memories are resurfacing now, flowing into the gaping abyss vacated by his receding anger, flooding his brain, and his senses.

And if he can’t recall what the two of you ate during the single meal you shared over the course of the weekend, he remembers your voracity. To this day, you remain his best kiss. Like that first one on the balcony, no, not a balcony, a fire escape, when he hung on for dear life to your hips with a bruising grip as you pulled him in, a minute ago shy and self-conscious, all he had to do was show you the attraction was reciprocal.

And that other kiss you gave him after that meal, only it hadn’t been on his lips.

It was already Sunday, in the early afternoon, when you too had first thought of eating. You were together on that bed where you spent most of the weekend. Lying on his back, eyes closed and a smile dancing on his lips, he was focused on the sensation of the tip of your fingers tracing patterns along his torso.

Your stomach let out a very loud, very angry growl. Your eyebrows shot up and you rolled onto your side to cover your face in embarrassment, both of you bursting into a laughing fit. He wrestled you for a bit, trying to pull your arms away from your face, and he finally carried you out of bed. He couldn’t understand why he found the idea of feeding you so satisfactory, even then, as he still does today.

You slipped on his plaid shirt, the act so natural and familiar, you looked so fucking lovely. He felt a pang of possessiveness, a foreign feeling to him, one he’d never experienced until then. You followed him into the kitchen where you ate together in content silence, exchanging cheerful looks, like two happy puppies.

After eating, however, the atmosphere shifted. He felt your gaze on his bare skin and when he looked up, your hooded eyes told him everything he needed to know. You got up slowly, purposefully, and slowly, purposefully took off his shirt, draping it neatly over the back of the Formica chair. Fuck, he loved your tits, so damn much.

He found himself unable to move, mesmerised by your demeanour, confident and full of intent. It was new, and it was something else. You were not quite the same girl anymore, and he wasn’t sure if “girl” was still the fitting term.

Closing the distance between you in one stride, you kneeled in front of him, gently parting his legs with your hands, and you moved closer, holding his gaze. He felt dumbstruck, at your mercy, like he had when you first backed him against that same kitchen chair two nights ago, and he licked his bottom lips in a futile attempt to snap out of it.

You lowered your eyes to the growing bulge in his black briefs and his cock twitched. With parted lips, you leaned in to kiss him through the warm fabric, eyes closed in rapture under your raised brow. Softly, you nuzzled your cheek against the cottony material, and inhaled. He froze, eyes locked on you, his chest heaving, his mouth gone slack. You rested your cheek on the inside of his thigh for a short while.

Then, flicking your eyes open, you started quietly, “I really want to–” and paused, and it occurred to him you might not even know how to say it in English.

“You don’t have to, if you’re–”, he trailed off, hardly recognising his own breathy, shaky voice. What the fuck was he talking about? He might die if you stopped now.

“Please? Please let me. It’s just that… I know I’m not too good at it.”

He was already fully erect when you took him out of his briefs, hard and heavy, and when you hesitantly bit your bottom lip, his eyes squeezed shut. He felt the curled up tip of your tongue collecting the bead of precome from the head of his cock, heard your satisfied exhale, felt your cold mouth enveloping him -cereal, he remembers it now, you had cold milk with cereal-, felt the contrast of your warm hand wrapping around his base.

If you were fairly inexperienced, your eagerness more than made up for it, and he let out a muffled curse when you began licking up broad stripes, before dipping as far down on him as you could.

He wanted to bury his hands in your hair and thrust deeply into your mouth, fill you entirely, the thought of fucking your throat threatening to tip him over too soon, but a part of his brain somehow still functioning remained in control; instead he gripped the sides of his seat until his knuckles turned white.

Your mouth closed around him, you settled in a steady rhythm, tongue swirling around his fat tip, hand stroking up and down with a maddening twist of your wrist, but you were far too gentle. With his cock still in your mouth, your eyes flicked up to his with a question, to which he gave a short, rapid nod, yes, yes, do whatever the fuck you want with me and you withdrew your lips with a popping sound, your timid smile in complete contradiction with the filth of your actions, before spitting tenderly on the head of his cock.

You were going to be the death of him.

Spreading your spit down his length, you stroked harder, wrapping your lips around him again, this time sucking firmly up and down with hollowed cheeks. He saw you squirming, pressing your thighs together, he heard your moans, you were enjoying this. That realisation, combined with your ministrations, was overwhelming.

His hips locked into place, the muscles in his belly strained, his balls drew tighter, he was too fucking close; he reached for the soft hair on your nape and tried pulling you back before it was too late, but you resisted, sucking harder, looking at him from under your eyelashes with an expression that mirrored his when you had straddled him on that same chair. “Do it, use me.”

He came at once. His head rolled back, an obscene grunt echoing in the room, heavy ropes of spend hitting the back of your throat that you bravely tried to swallow, flooding past your closed lips and dribbling down your chin. You kept suckling him delicately through it and when he came around after a minute, or five, or ten, he noticed he was still holding your hair.

You looked dazed, dazed and pleased with yourself, holding him in your right hand, sitting back on your heels like a proud student waiting to be graded, and he laughed breathlessly.

He’s hoping now, looking at you as you wipe your chin clean of the dripping sauce from the burger he cooked especially for you, that he told you then how well you did for him. More women than he’d care to count have sucked his dick ever since, some of them professionals, none made him feel the way you did. All he can remember is that he had been eager to get you cleaned up.

And what happened then in the bathroom had been the beginning of the end for him.

—

When the neighbours bring their kids back home for nap time, the place becomes considerably quieter. Tom takes his leave shortly after, having to drive his daughters back to his ex-wife, and you’re slightly alarmed that his friends are letting him take the wheel, considering how much alcohol he’s had. Then it’s Will’s colleagues’ turn to go. There’s a pleasant, sated lull in the conversations, as the remaining guests stretch their limbs in the afternoon sun.

When Frankie joins your table, Benny sits up as if remembering something.

“Hey baby, I’ve been thinking,’ he starts, looking at you both, “Fish could help you with the car. He used to be a mechanic, right Fish?”

All the food you’ve ingested makes your body slow and heavy, but you think you could start shaking with the way Frankie’s eyes flick up to you, alight with an alarming gleam.

The car. Benny’s big project, getting you out of public transportation. You didn’t need one in Paris and you haven’t bought one here yet, you like the bus rides, you can read and listen to music and daydream. A real luxury. And you’re more than fine with Benny driving you around in the Mustang.

“We’ve talked about this, Ben, I’m not comfortable driving, here,” you remind him tentatively.

Frankie leans back in his chair, arms crossed on his broad chest, and you avoid the sight of his lean muscles rippling underneath the tanned skin of his forearms.

“Look, I don’t like you riding them buses alone at night. She won’t even take a cab,” he adds for his friend’s benefit. “Fish knows a lot about cars and engines and shit, he could help you choose a good one. I think that’s a good idea, that’s all I’m saying.”

Nothing about this is a good idea.

“Cheers, but I’m a big girl from a big city,” you answer with a hint of aggressiveness. “I mean I’m fine,” you try again, softer, “and I’m used to driving a stick, I would want a manual gear, anyway.”

A manual gear. Nice touch, very European, that was convincing.

“Yea I can help you with that, too,” Frankie lifts his head and you get a better view of his face under the brim of the cap, but you’ll be damned if you can decipher his expression.

This whole situation is throwing you off-balance, you can’t process what’s happening, but you know that you don’t like it, not in the least, what do you want, what does he want, what is he playing at?

He wants you safe. He wants you off the buses at night, is what he wants. Nothing else. Nothing more. Aside perhaps from the opportunity to ask you one question.

Clare provides you with a much welcome way out when she joins the discussion.

“I’ve been to Paris, like fifteen years ago? I loved it! What neighbourhood are you from, exactly?”

The topic seems forgotten and you carry out the conversation for as long as you can before excusing yourself and stepping inside for a glass of water. Talking about your hometown has cooled down your nerves, but you still need a moment to yourself.

Will’s kitchen is cleaner than an operating room. It’s disconcerting, and you wonder if he ever eats in. The hob is pristine, so is the oven, and you hardly resist the urge to open the fridge just to have a peek, refraining out of respect for your friend.

The first cabinet you open contains different sorts of coffee, teas and herbal infusions, canned soups and chocolate, something you didn’t expect. You find the glasses behind the second door you open, but your hand freezes on the handle as you hear someone coming into the kitchen behind you.

It’s him. The understanding instinctual. You recognize his gait, measured, calm, assertive, and before you can decide how to react, you’re surrounded by the scent of him. You were right, of course you were right, you do remember it vividly, only now it’s more potent, and it’s so close, too close, it’s there, you feel dizzy, he’s drawing nearer and you brace yourself for an impact that doesn’t come.

He stops half an inch short of your back, and it’s as if your very skin is reaching out for him.

He leans over you, his mouth to your ear, the thin hair on your nape standing, and his breath fans over your throat when he whispers, “Let me get that car with you.” It’s not a request. It’s not a question.

You feel the heat rolling off of him once it’s no longer there. You stand alone in the empty kitchen, eyes clenched, cold and perfectly still, your hand gripped onto the cabinet handle.

It’s a moment before you can walk out of the kitchen on shaky legs. You’re going to do this. You are really going to do this. You can’t pause to think.

You get to the garden and the sun blinds you, they’re all staring in your direction, if only in your head. You go back to your seat next to Benny and you put on a broad smile, willing your voice to sound perfectly casual.

“Ok you win. I’ll get that car. But a small one.”

Oh god he looks so fucking happy, like a child, and he kisses you deep, you hate yourself already when you notice Frankie’s watching, he hasn’t missed a thing. You recognise the sadness in his eyes, it’s the same that’s pinching your heart.

Everything happens too fast afterwards. Benny signals him to come over, and you exchange phone numbers, an ordinary social interaction that is anything but. The irony of the situation drops like an anvil in your stomach and you fear for a moment that you’re going to be sick. Neither Frankie nor you can look at each other as you tap the digits on the screens.

Your entire body shudders at the sound of Benny’s voice.

“Alright, then, Fish, I guess she’ll give you a call!”

—

Why you didn’t call is all he needs to know. He’ll back off once he knows. And he can’t stand the thought of you travelling by bus, alone at night. Two birds, one stone.

He didn’t recognise your scent. Standing so close to you in that clinically clean kitchen, he breathed in your hair, your neck, and it was intoxicating, but it wasn’t like it used to be. Not that he can remember your old scent. He’s forgotten about that, along with your taste, a long time ago, he just knows it’s not it. New shampoo, new perfume, maybe. New boyfriend.

The only thing he remembers after all these years, apart from your eyes and your face, is your skin. The feel of it under the pads of his fingers, under the palm of his hand, under his tongue, between his lips. How it shivered under his touch. The way it caught at his calloused digits. And your cool back against his burning chest. And your breasts, and your own hands as you ceaselessly caressed him.

Is it better to remember?

Around three years ago, he met a girl from Mexico, much younger than him, dark and beautiful, and she made him feel good for a while, he liked the sensation of her soft body underneath his, and he thought he might be in love until he realised it was nothing but a reminiscence of you. Of your skin. Over and over and over again. Always you. Only you. A life spent seeking you through all these stranger, distant bodies.

He got so close to your skin, earlier. He knows that’s how close he’s ever going to get, now. Benny’s never been this happy. Benny’s in love, it’s all over his face, on display for everyone else to see.

But it’s real. He’s got that. Everything that happened between you and him, has been real. That’s what you gave him, today, you clever, clever girl. He can be content with that, he thinks. If only…

If only he didn’t feel your skin reaching out for him.

—

In the orange bedroom, he’d fallen asleep first and you had fought through your own tiredness to stay awake just a little while longer. Looking at him, committing to memory all his singular details. The size of his hands, the shape of his nails, the colour of his eyelashes, the tattoo behind his ear and the one on his thumb, the curve of his nose, the line of his neck, the pattern of his freckles, the dip between his collarbones, the ones over his hips, the flawless shape of his length, the build of his thighs, the sharpness of his jawline, the breadth of his shoulders, the curls of his hair…

You couldn’t ever be satisfied but you didn’t want to disturb his slumber, so you got up for a glass of water and got reminded of the books piled up by the chair.

Kneeling down on the floor, you looked through a first column of physics and algebra textbooks. A few others, smaller, with eye-catching covers, were fiction. Mostly second-hand, judging by the yellowed paper. Some were in Spanish, from authors unknown to you yet, but some you knew and loved, Hemingway, O'Connor, Remarque, Capote… You picked up a beaten copy of Franny and Zooey, inhaling the old paper scent, and flipped through the pages. Here, some sentences were underlined, there, entire paragraphs. His bold handwriting sprawled in all caps in the margin, his thoughts laid down in ink, something you would never dare do.

You put down the book, resuming your browsing, you couldn’t figure out what you were looking for, only that you would know when you’d find it, and oh! there.

You held the book with both hands and murmured the title like one does a binding spell.

“Le Maître et Marguerite”

****

Taglist (Thank you 💕): @nicolethered @elegantduckturtle @mashomasho @lola766 @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine @littleone65 @bands-tv-movies-is-me @the-rambling-nerd @saintbedelia @pedrostories @trickstersp8

[isabellehemlock]

I’m celebrating my three year fandom anniversary on August 6th (I was a lurker before then, but posted my first fic that day, so I love to celebrate it every year).  I’ll be sharing a reflections post of the last year on that day, but before then, I wanted to look at a fun one I did two years ago.  It was a prompt based celebration, and looking back, I ended up picking and piecing together an expanded version to cover several fandoms, as well as include art possibilities 🤩

This is my way of saying thank you to the readers, commenters, and friends I’ve made along the way and I’m excited to do another round of it 🥹👉🏻👈🏻❤️

So, how does it work?  

For the next week, I’m opening my anon ask box (so yay for any shy mutuals/lurkers), and you can request either a lineart art prompt, and/or 1k or less one shot - if you’d like something longer, fair warning, it would likely not happen till November! - either way, scroll below the cut for fandoms, pairings, ratings, scenarios, and prompts to send my way.  Let me know if you’re looking for art or fic, and then my hope is to upload everything on the 6th 🎉

Fandoms

IWTV • OFMD • Stranger Things • Good Omens • The Witcher TOG

Pairings

Honestly, pretty much any and all are welcome, so even if not listed, send it anyway - I might just not have thought of it before and would still be open to it - but off the top of my head:

IWTV: Loustat, Loumand, Devil’s Minion

OFMD: Gentlebeard, Steddyhands

Stranger Things: Steddie

Good Omens: Ineffable Husbands

The Witcher: GeraltxJaskier, GeraltxJaskierxYennefer

TOG: Immortal Husbands, Immortal Wives, Book of Nile

You're also welcome to request just one character focused piece, too 🥳

Ratings

Really any, but please do specify in your ask 😘

Tropes/Themes

Religious Themes • Affirming theology • Rom/Com • Friends to Lovers • Found Family • Hurt/Comfort • Mental Illness/Trauma/Healing • First Time • Baby/Kidfic • AU • Crack

Scenarios

A/B/O • Actor • Ghost • Lawyer • Marriage • Mermaid • Neighbor • Parent • Penpal • Social Media

Dialogue Prompts

“Can I kiss you?”

“Are you cold?”

“Do you trust me?”

“I don’t think we can keep this up forever.”

“Why are you naked?”

“You’re choosing now to flirt with me?”

“Why are you bleeding?”

“I’m in love with you.”

“I missed you so much.”

“I can’t stay away from you.”

“Please don’t cry.”

“Please wake up.”

“Please just kiss me already.”

“I’m here for you.”

“Are we on a date right now?”

“If I die, I’m haunting you first.”

“But I’ve never told you that before.”

“I’ve learned to love you.”

“What do you remember?”

“I don’t know if I want to yell at you, or kiss you.”

“Another nightmare?”

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Come home.”

“I did it again, didn’t I?”

“I’m not going to fight you.”

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

“I can’t do this without you.”

“Go big or go home.”

“Please stay.”

There’s a lot of combo possibilities, so feel free to pile several things together, and I look forward to seeing what y’all might send my way ❤️

[simplyclary]

A Letter Filled With Love and Appreciation

As some of you might know, I express my thoughts, feelings and emotions through writing and words. In fact, my number one love language is words of affirmation. I just think that little notes, messages and letters filled with love and positivity goes a long way. This is my fan-art (in a way) and nothing but love flows every time I write something about the people and things that I appreciate and love.

This whole post is a letter that is dedicated to one of the best fandoms that I have ever joined this year. That is none other than the TZP Squad. This might be lengthy, might not be, but one thing's for sure, I'm gonna be a little bit sentimental considering what they've got me feeling these past few days.

I don't celebrate Thanksgiving, but I think that giving thanks and being grateful knows no time and date. Since it's Thanksgiving season anyway, this will be my Thanksgiving gift to the lovely angels of the fandom who has been nothing but pleasant, accepting, warm and just some of the kindest folks that I have ever encountered online. Other than Taylor himself and some of my other favorite people, these folks are what keep me sticking around in the crazy and ever-evolving realm of social media.

So, without further ado, here's my letter of love and thanks to my dearest fandom, the TZP Squad.

To my dearest TZP Squad,

I would like to start the letter by telling you guys that the found family trope is one of my favorite tropes in books. Just the feeling of finding people outside your own bloodline that loves and appreciates you is a special feeling.

To me, a fandom is like a virtual family, where the members bond and share a mutual love for a specific person or a group of people. Nothing compares to the happiness and pride I feel being a part of one. I have been a part of several fandoms throughout the years, some are still active and some no longer. With every fandom I enter, I always make a promise to stay there for as long as I can unless my heart calls to another or I'm no longer interested in the content or there's too much controversy and negativity that I had to leave and just be a casual supporter instead of a die-hard fan.

The TZP Squad is a special one. What started with me casually replying and liking some posts on Twitter/X and IG turned into something special and meaningful. You guys are just some of the most pleasant, sweetest, kindest and most respectful bunch of people that I have ever encountered on social media. To be able to interact with you and share the mutual love for Taylor Zakhar Perez with you guys have been amazing so far.

The amount of creativity and artistry in this fandom is just overflowing. The edits and the artworks are just amazing and is deserving of so much appreciation. I have a few of my favorite accounts that I interact with on a daily basis but all of you honestly deserves lots of love and appreciation.

Since I live in the Philippines which is in Southeast Asia where it's night when it's day for some, if not most, of you guys, being able to wake up to your TZP-related updates, photos, videos, interview insights and edits is just some of my favorite things to wake up to. Like to be honest, I can't start my day without seeing and interacting a least a couple of posts from you guys.

That's quite the story time, I'll actually now get to the "Thanks-giving part" before I get carried away.

My dearest members of the TZP Squad, first and foremost, thank you for accepting a newbie like me into the fandom. This fandom is new on its own but I know some of you have known Taylor since his "The Kissing Booth" days. Thank you for the warmest and most pleasant welcome into the fandom. Do continue to be your pleasant and accepting souls so our little squad can continue to grow and diversify.

Secondly, thank you for letting me share my thoughts and feelings about Taylor without judgment. I do keep it wholesome and pretty tame most of the time by simply letting the all capital letters and emojis speak for me, but if you can see me behind the screen, I usually go pretty feral. Along with one of my best friends, you guys are the only ones who can fully understand my love for Taylor. Like I can go on and on about him for hours, I'm not kidding.

Thirdly, I thank you guys for simply being my little corner of paradise on the internet. I don't know what it is, but the TZP squad community is my favorite little corner in the messy space of social media. You guys just make my social media experience pleasant. There's no toxicity and negativity, everyone's like helping each other out. Like it's a little space of positivity and inclusivity and I love that so much.

Lastly, I really just want to thank you guys for the happiness and joy you bring to me. I consider Taylor as my sunshine, but you guys are the solar energy. The happiness that I feel increases when I see updates and content of him from you guys. I'm not on my phone 24/7 so I really appreciate it whenever you guys provide like little updates here and there about Taylor. Also, thank you for making me scream and go wild with the insane amount of photos (I don't really care if they're the same ones!) I see on my feed every day! I love you guys so much for that.

Before I end the letter, I would like to give a couple of shoutouts to some folks...

Firstly, shoutout to the folks who run @/InfoTZP and @/tzpsquads. You angels. You have been my go-to pages for TZP updates since the beginning of my TZP fan era. I appreciate the work and effort that you put into providing accurate updates and y'all are just some of the sweetest souls ever! The fandom and Taylor is lucky to have you guys! Extra shoutout to @/InfoTZP for that poster that you made me for my birthday a few days ago. I still cannot get over the cuteness and the sweetness of that gift. That was also the first time that I have ever received a gift from a fandom so I was really touched by it. Thank you for making my birthday extra special.

Secondly, to the folks over here on Tumblr, thank you for letting me express my Taylor-related thoughts on here. Thank you for liking them, reposting them and simply reading them. They can be lengthy (especially those fashion-related ones) but I really appreciate you guys taking the time to read them.

(He's not gonna read this, but who knows, he might!). Lastly, of course, to the person who is the reason this fandom even exists, Taylor Zakhar Perez. Taylor, my comforting sunshine, thank you for being you and for being the reason why I have a lovely fandom to belong in. Thank you for being an inspiration to many people and thank you for being a positive force that we can look up to. I am forever thankful to have discovered you and I promise to forever love and support you.

This is one of my many Taylor-related posts, but this is more about the fandom than Taylor himself. The fandom is just as special as Taylor and I'm excited to spend the future loving and supporting him with you guys. The TZP squad is one of the best fandoms with the sweetest people and I'm just having a pleasant ride with you guys. I'm here for the long run and I promise to stand by you Taylor and you guys until time tells me that it is already time to stop.

Happy Thanksgiving , everyone! Eat some turkey, eat some stuffing and cornbread. Celebrate and always be grateful for everything that you have!

All my love! 🧡

Clarissa

[alder-saan]

Till death do us meet

life 2 : gunshots

Death of the endless x reader

Warnings : mass murder, death

Wordcount : ~1200

THIS IS THE SECOND PART. life 1 : Shooting stars

You were looking at your lesson. Why the fuck did you chose a math degree ? It was far too difficult for you. Actually, you had not been paying attention for months. Since your best friend just disappeared and blocked you on every social media, you began to wonder what was wrong with you. Sometimes you didn't want to wake up, an you just stayed in your bed all day. Sometimes you tried to motivate but in class, you understood that these "few days off" were in fact a "few weeks off". And from now on, you had to catch up on your work. The few "friends" you had (could you really call them friends? You mean, yeah, you liked them, and they seemed to like you but... You weren't that close), tried to cheer you up, unsuccessfully. You sighed. To your left, 'lyn shook you a bit.

"Hey, wake up"

"I don't understand, 'lyn"

"I know, but you will once you catch up. So don't give up. If you don't want to take notes, listen."

"Yes mom"

You sank into your chair and watch the half-empty lecture hall from the back seats. In the front row, you noticed a young woman. She was... well, beautiful. Really beautiful. You wondered if it was OK to approach someone at the end of a maths lesson that gave headaches. Anyway, what would you say to her, uh? "Hello, er... I was watching you from the back of the lecture hall and I found you beautiful. Do you want to go to the coffee shop with me?"

You knew that wasn't ridiculous. But persuading yourself was the only way you found to protect yourself from being rejected. She wasn't interested in you. No one was. No one would ever be. Your eyes rolled to the left. Marilyn was focused. You let your mind daydreaming. You thought about your best friend. Your ex best friend who just left you without a word.

About your mother who was never happy with what you did, what you became.

About your big brother, your stupid brother who left you and went in an other country. You missed him... He and his stupid hair, which he plastered back with gel. You laughed, hoping he'd change his hair style.

About your father who prefered his job over his children.

About 'lyn, who never let you down. You really liked her. But you felt guilty not to be able to be there for her like she was for you. You never told her she probably was your new best friend. You never thanked her.

About that girl, in the front row. You were sûre you had met her before. But you couldn't remember when. It seemed you always knew her. She may was your soulmate... Ugh, since when were you that mushy? Soulmates? Bullshit. You must have seen it in class but not noticed it, that's all...

" 'lyn?"

"Mmh?"

"See that girl in the front row?"

"Luna?"

"No, to her left"

"Er... the wall?"

"No, the girl with a black shirt"

"Luna is the only girl in the front row"

"The person with the black shirt then"

"I really don't see who you're tal-"

A gunshot.

Everyone froze.

An other gunshot.

The girl you saw stood up. You frowned. Why did she do that? No one else noticed her. The other students were hiding under their table, as the safety regulations provided for this type of incident. You didn't move. Why? Why did she stood up in the middle of the room. She gave the class a sad and sorry smile. Then she crossed your look.

"Can you see me?"

You nodded.

"Hide now."

You hid with Marilyn. She held your arm, silent tears rolled on her cheeks.

The door crashed open. A man entered, you recognized him. That was one of your ex best friend's friend. He had two guns. He pointed the barrel of one at a table and fired it. You startled. Then he shot the professor, under his table. He screamed in pain. Three other gunshot. He remained silent. But the girl? Where was she? You looked down the stairs, through the rectangular holes in the wood of the table.

Your eyes widened. She had now big black feathered wings. There was two teachers. One of them covered in blood, motionless, the other looked normal and the woman took his hands. She flapped her wings. For a brief moment, the second teacher was out of your sight, covered by the black wings. When you could see again, he had disappeared. All that was left was the bloody corpse.

The man turned towards the empty chairs. But all the stuff on several tables couldn't fool him. You shivered. The silence was deafening. Marilyn and you held your breaths. For how long? You didn't know.

Other gunshots.

You heard 'lyn sobbing and gasping, and students crying in pain. You couldn't stop your eyes from watching the woman, walking from table to table, fetching students from under their desks into the other world. She was so sweet with them. Wiping their tears away, hugging them, comforting them.

Luna, the third student who passed away, disappeared.

The police and ambulance sirens drilled the silence. The woman turned towards the man. He shot himself. She stood in front of him.

"It's over"

Her wings flapped. He was gone.

You came out of your hidding, not paying attention to Marilyn, next to you. You wanted to talk to the woman before she goes. She looked at you and went up the stairs.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting"

"Don't worry, you had work to do"

"I've missed you."

"What do you mean?" You said, confused.

"You don't remember? Not surprinsing though, but kinda disappointing... Anyway that's not your fault so don't worry."

You searched in your memory, giving you an excuse to close your eyes and avoid the view of the corpses, but didn't find anything.

"I... I am sorry what was I supposed to remember?"

"The shooting stars"

You frowned. The shooting stars? What did that mean? The shoo-

A shooting star, a big shooting star, with two tails. One fire-colored, one bluish. The woman. Beside you. Your kiss. Was this...

"Your previous life."

You opened your mouth. But no sound went out. You didn't know what to say.

"I must admit I quite liked your kiss... That was... brave."

"I- I need to process these things out. Can we discuss about that later? I can offer you a drink sometime... But with what happened I'm not sure it'll be today, or even tomorrow. I have to talk about this with-"

You turned towards 'lyn, still under her table. She was holding... you? Your body?

Then you saw blood on your stomach, and a whole in the wood of the table. 'lyn was crying, her hands were red, living marks on her cheeks when she wiped her tears.

"Please... tell me something..." she moaned.

Death took your hand.

"I think we need to talk about that now."

"No, no it can't be possible!"

"I'm sorry. You'll be okay"

"But I didn't thank her!"

"I'm sorry, I can't bring you back. Come here."

She ran her thumb over your cheek to remove a tear.

"But what I can do, is being sure you'll see her in your next life. You'll be able to thank her"

"Can you do that?"

"Well I'm not supposed to, but yes, I can."

"Thank you"

She cupped your head in your hands.

"Can you kiss me again, before you go ? I want to feel it one more time."

A smile appeared on your face and you kissed her.

And you were gone.

_________________________________________

[staceymcgillicuddy]

First of all, point me in the direction of who started some shit and I’ll fight them. Then I’ll give them this bug I have. Because FUCK THEM. Ngl, to get to know my soul again is one of my favorite fics. You’ve created our two beans so beautifully and so delightfully odd with compelling quirks and layers…it’s a joy to read. I get all excited every time I see an update and have to tell myself not to rush to read it. Depression is a bitch, but she’s a liar, never forget that. You do what you need to and take care of yourself. Sending you non contaminated positive and fuzzy thoughts. 💞💞💞

Ah, thank you, friend! This made me smile, though I am sorry to hear you're not well and I'm sending you careful hugs and whatever you need to feel better.

I appreciate your kindness about soul! I love them so much, which is why it's been frustrating to be blocked, but that's not on them, that's on like... my brain right now, where it justifies not writing for any reason at all. Like "oh, I woke up and checked social media and it made me sad so I can't write."

Then... maybe don't check social media first? I used to do that, and I probably need to get back to it. Like, wake up, NO PHONE, do a little meditation, journal, then write, THEN I can let the shit of the day cascade down from crap mountain.

Anyway, thank you again for this--I will have an update next week by hook or by crook, and I am so excited to share what happens with Chrissy and her new friend. ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

(FWIW, the shit in my inbox wasn't so much shit-stirring, just a fucker being a fucker.)

[taiblogcomics]

Help! I Need Somepony!

Hey there, desperation for puffed corn cereals. Almost out of this backlog, but we still got a couple to go! And now, let's get into this one, eh~?

Here's the cover:

Of the new Mane 5, I think Hitch is probably the most unappreciated. It's probably because he's the token dude, and it's a series for little girls. He also doesn't have that "little brother" energy that Spike had, he's an older dude in a position of authority. But maybe us millenials in the periphery demographic relate to him (forget that he's also a cop for a moment). Like, look at this cover. He's an indie music producer, he's moving, he's building a deck. And he looks exhausted/astonished to just contemplate doing all these things. That's peak relatability~

We waste a whole first page on establishing shots of Maretime Bay, showing Hitch waking up. Hitch exposits to himself how it's the first day of autumn now, and thus the Harvest Festival is that day. Like, who is he talking to? The birds? I know he can talk to birds, but I don't think he needs to exposit to the birds that he's the sheriff and that he's frozen in there and we're out here. (Yes, you can expect me to make that reference any time his being the sheriff comes up.) Anyways, today he's hanging up that sheriff badge to instead pick up some headphones and spin some records.

Just as he's ready to head out, Sunny comes rushing in and spills his records. She's excited for the harvest celebration, and Hitch is also eager to bring in the noise, bring in the funk. Sunny's here for a reason, though. She's got a favour to ask, you see. Izzy needs some supplies from the sporting goods store, so if it's not too much trouble, can he swing by on his way to set up his booth? Hitch agrees, because he's all about helping. That's basically what his job is. This isn't too much trouble. Sunny thanks him, and she heads off to set up her own booth.

A casual aside mention of Discord to just remind you that this is part of an ongoing plot later, Hitch arrives at the sports-shop. It's genuinely kind of huge, so it takes a while to find the rings Izzy needs. Eventually he does, and there's no quest to cast them back into the fires whence they came, so he's able to leave. Now at the fairgrounds, he's approaching the stage where he intend to set up. But then... a wild Izzy blocks the way! She leads him to her ringtoss booth, but also imparts on him another favour. He agrees, because he's that kind of guy.

Hitch heads over to the arts-and-crafts store, passing by Sunny's tug-of-war setup on the way. And here's where you get a very rare sight indeed: Sprout from the G5 movie. Remember? He was, like, the main antagonist of the movie and set up to be a prominent secondary character, and then he just wasn't. You can tell, because this is issue 7 of the comics, and this is the first time I've mentioned him. Anyways, he continues to suck up to his mother, and then mud from the tug-of-war splashes all over him. Maybe he's better off not appearing in things~

Anyways, Hitch gets Izzy her crafting supplies, which was a mercifully smaller store, thankfully for him. By now Hitch is getting a little annoyed. He loves to help and is glad to do so, but now it's getting in the way of doing his own thing. Just like this sudden parade that's appeared behind him while he was in the store. And wouldn't you know it, Pipp is dancing on a big float right at that moment, and she spots him in the crowd and drags him onstage. Guess what, she needs a favour. Just a quick one, of course. Her AV guy didn't turn up, so she needs him to record her song for social media.

Now Hitch is running pretty late, but he still can't turn his friends down. It just wouldn't be him if he didn't help out. And speak of the devil, here comes Zipp. She needs another partner for the obstacle course, as her usual one has passed out from eating too much pie. Ah, relatable. Hitch almost wants to put his hoof down here, but Zipp does something unexpected: she says "please". And oh boy, is it ever an obstacle course. What was that show called? Wipeout? It's basically that. And now Hitch is very late, and hasn't even begun to set up yet.

But when he finally gets to his booth... It's almost all set up already. And his four friends step out and reveal that they felt a little selfish about monopolising his time, because he has difficulty saying "no" to folks. So since he spent all day helping them, it's their turn to help him for a change. Even Sprout turns up to help (which is more of just bossing the others around, but that's fine). And thus the evening closes out with Hitch putting on a big Deadmau5-type pony head and DJing the night way for the whole festival~

This is, honestly, a pretty good issue. It’s nice to focus on Hitch, who doesn’t get a lot of love, as stated earlier. And it’s a pretty good lesson: help others, but don’t forget to help yourself. Or maybe: if someone does you a kindness, return it. Either one, really. They both fit. No, the only problem here is that once again, we’re doing the slice-of-life filler stuff after we already amped up the stakes with the Discord plot. It seriously gets all of just a single line’s mention here. This issue would be fine as a standalone. But putting it in the middle of a storyline makes it filler instead. Discord’s about to destroy all magic! But it’s not so urgent that we can’t have a day for a harvest festival, hmm? Again, good issue all on its own! Just doesn’t work within the larger narrative surrounding it.