#but there were a few times i found myself without a working fan. so i turned to his music to act as white noise instead.

[orcelito]

Ok so I was wondering like

Top 0.005% of listeners. That's Pretty Damn Small. But I was wondering Just how small...

357.1k monthly listeners

0.005% of 357.1k is... just under 18...

Guys. I'm within the top 20 listeners for IAMX. Period. 🫣

[landosjpg]

fall back together | ln

the one where your ex-boyfriend invites you to spend a few days with him, but you two still have feelings for each other.

lando norris x fem!reader

word count: ~2.5k

warnings: pining, the tiniest bit of fluff i believe, language, smut, oral (f recieving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cockwarming

note: ehhh i don't really know how to feel about this but i wanted to post something, once again not proofread! also i have a looooong flight later this week so pls send in some requests so i can entertain myself during it! <3

you and lando had dated for a little over two years when you decided to call it quits. it wasn't messy; you two had mutually decided to stay as friends. and for the few months that you had been just that, it had worked well so far.

that's why lando had decided to invite you over for the monaco grand prix, insisting that you should spend a few days prior with him so you two could catch up and spend some time together.

as friends, of course.

it took him a few days to convince you, but you finally agreed. and that's why you found yourself walking down the corridor that led to his apartment, suitcase in hand. you could hear his giggles already from the other side of the hall, the sound bringing a smile to your face.

as you opened the door with the keys that he had insisted you should keep after breaking up, for emergencies (even when you lived in a total different country), you heard him talking.

"hey, chat!" you heard him say. you should've guessed he would use his days at home to stream like he used to. "guess who's here!"

you smiled as you walked to the room he was in. the fans had always loved you; you saw the edits they made of your relationship, how everyone used to lose their minds over the way you two looked at each other when you decided to make an appearance on one of his streams.

utterly in love.

and of course, you saw how everyone couldn't believe it when he had announced the end of your relationship.

it's not like any of you had expected it either, but you knew it was for the best or the relationship would consume one of you. but you were happy you had managed to make a friendship work, not really wanting to lose lando. and of course, his fans were excited to see you again.

he turned his chair around as you entered the room, his smile widening as soon as he saw you. you walked his way, happily waving at the camera. normally, he would grab your waist and pull you into his lap.

but this time he didn't.

so you stood there, right next to his chair. and as much as you knew that was how things were, it didn't fell completely right to you.

"i think i'm gonna head to bed," you interrupted after a few minutes in which you talked with him and with the viewers, answering a few questions just like you used to do before everything went down.

but after a long flight and a taxi ride to his house, you felt exhausted and all you wanted was to lie down and call it a day.

lando reached to mute his mic before he could answer you, turning to look at your face as he spoke.

"take my bed, i'll sleep in the spare room," he said. you were certain that the fans would try to decipher what you were saying later, but you didn't really care.

you thought about what he was proposing. it would feel weird, sleeping in his bed without him, so you weren't really convinced about it. and he must had seen it in your face, because before you could say anything, he added:

"come on, y/n". you're tired and the spare bed isn't even made," he looked at you with soft, pleading eyes.

you knew he still wanted the best for you, so you sighed in defeat and accepted his offer with a nod of your head.

after saying goodbye to the chat, you left the room to get ready for bed. as you went through your daily night routine in the bathroom, you noticed how everything you had left there behore the break-up was still in its place.

it looked like you had never left.

you tried not to think too much about it, there could be multiple reasons why he had decided to keep all your stuff. he definitely had moved on, right? it had been months since you two ended things.

you brushed it off, not really wanting it to get to your head and then walked to his room. everything was just like you remembered. damn, he even kept some pictures of you on his wall.

with your pajamas on, you climbed into his bed and covered your body with the soft sheets, the smell of him quickly washing all over you.

you rolled around with a sigh, the bed feeling way too big now that he wasn't next to you to wrap hismself around you. you were unable to sleep as your mind filled with all the nights spent in that exact same mattress between laughs, kisses and endless conversations.

you missed the feeling of his arms around your waist, the sound of his snores and the warmth of his body enveloping you every night.

with your mind racing with all the memories that wouldn't leave your brain, you realized it had been hours since you got in bed when you checked the time on your phone. the house was completely silent by that moment, so you figured lando was already asleep.

you sighed and got up, wandering to the kitchen silentely to not wake him up, with the intention of making yourself a tea that would hopefully help you sleep.

୨୧

sat on the counter, you contemplated the city lights with a warm mug of tea in your hands. the only light that illuminated the kitchen was te one that came out of your room. lando's room.

you were lost in your own thoughts, so you didn't notice his figure walking towards you.

"is that seat taken?" his voice made you jump a little in surprise, swearing under your breath as you turned to look at him, simply shaking your head in response. "sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he added with a chuckle, sitting on the stool right next to you.

you didn't really know what to say, so silence fell between you two while you just stared at each other. despite of it being dark, you could appreciate his messy curls, the spark on his eyes and the sly smile that beautifully decorated his lips.

"can't slep?" his voice was low and tender as he brokw the silence.

"bed feels too big."

at your answer, he just nodded. he kept quiet for a few seconds, pensive, and you could see that he was wondering wheter what he was about to say was appropriate or not.

"you know, as much as it hurts... i'm happy that you're moving on," he finally broke the silence, his words hitting you like a truck.

"i'm not... what do you mean?" you asked in confussion, but your mind was more focused on the fact that the possibility of you moving on hurt him.

"i've seen the pictures."

despite of the sadness that his whisper hid, you knew he wasn't mad at you. he had always said that he wanted you to be happy, whether it was with or without him.

silly of him to think that anyone else could ever make you as happy as he once did.

"just a friend," you mumbled, knowing that he was talking about the guy in your latest posts. but he was nothing more than a friend to you, not even close. "not really my type," you joked, earning a little smile from his lips.

once again, the silence felt deafening as he didn't give you an answer. your nerves were starting to kick in and so, in an attempt to try and make it feel less awkward between you two, you gazed back to the window.

"do you ever miss me?" he whispered again seconds later, the simple question making you freeze.

the answer was easy: yes, like crazy. but you couldn't just say that.

as he waited for you to reply, you felt his eyes on you, curious about what you would answer. and you swore he could hear your heart racing in your chest.

"sometimes, yeah," you finally decided to give him the truth.

or part of it, because confessing that it hadn't been a day in which he didn't cross your mind at least twice a day made you feel too exposed and vulnerable.

you halted when you felt his hand creeping up your legs slowly, stopping when he reached your thigh.

"i miss you, too," his murmur sent you a shiver down your spine, and he was looking up at you from where he was sitting, with puppy eyes.

you knew damn well what those words meant, and you felt your heart breaking at your own answer.

" i don't think it's a good idea, lan," you murmured, not able to hold his gaze for long.

"i know", he uttered, and you felt him sigh, but his hand stayed in your leg. "i'm sorry."

when you heard his simple apology, you closed yout eyes and tried to keep your tears from falling down your cheeks, but you failed miserably.

you knew he was apologizing for not being his best self during the last weeks of your relationship. at first, you had tried to convince yourself it only was a rough patch, but it was burning you down.

and, when you asked him for some time, he agreed. he knew he hadn't been the best boyfriend to you during that time, and he hated seeing you suffer because of him. so he ultimately decided to set you free.

"i'll never take you for granted again," he whispered, his hands cupping your cheeks and wiping the tears that fell down your face.

you hadn't noticed that he had stoop up from the stool and positioned himself between your legs, but having him so close again made your heart feel warm. and you looked down, knowing that if your eyes met his green orbits you'd throw yourself back right into his arms.

"lan..."

"i swear, y/n," he interrupted you; you could see his eyes were also watery, tears threatening to come out as well, but he held them back as he kept talking. "i know i fucked up, but it won't happen again."

closing your eyes, you sighed. your fingers softly wrapped around his wrist as you kept silently crying.

"please," his whisper made you sob, wanting nothing more than to go back in time and never let go of him. "i promise."

as you took in his words, your hand slid to his neck and he rested his forehead against yours. your breaths were mixing together and you nodded your head slightly, giving him your final answer with that small gesture.

before you could think about it, his lips were on yours. soft, just as you remembered, and you could taste both your tears on his lips. he kissed you slowly, tenderly, as if he didn't want you to slip out of his fingers again.

and you knew he didn't.

"i've missed this," he sighed in between kisses, pulling you a little closer, his arms now wrapped around your waist. "i've missed you, baby."

at the sweet pet name that you never thought you'd be hearing from his lips again, you exhaled with a smile.

"want to join me in bed?" you asked in a whisper, your fingers softly brushing against the skin of his neck. you wanted nothing more than to sleep next to him again, so close that one would think you two were literally attached at the hip.

"you're inviting me to my bed?" he chuckled as his arms went lower on your body, pulling you closer and picking you up from the counter.

"our bed," you corrected him with a giggle of your own.

he planted a soft kiss on your lips and walked you back to his room, wrapped in his arms. he lied you down on the mattress gently, keeping his body over yours. your gazes locked for a few seconds before his lips attacked yours hungrily, the tenderness of the previous interactions now long gone.

your hands roamed all over each other's bodies, clothes soon flying everywhere as both your breaths got heavier.

he started trailing small, wet kisses down your breasts and torso, his hands carefully pulling your underwear down your legs. he spread your open for him and positioned himself between your thighs, looking up at you from the edge of the bed.

you slightly nodded, giving him permission to go on. a long sigh left your lips as soon as you felt his lips pressing a soft kiss on your sensitive bud, and your fingers instinctively got lost in his curls, urging him closer.

"you're so gorgeous, baby," he mumbled, his hot breath against your slick making you moan softly.

you felt his tongue flatten against you and he started licking your cunt as if he was starving. a smug expression plastered on his face when your back arched as his lips found your clit again and he sucked, fingers tugging on his hair.

"fuck, lando..." you stuttered, your legs closing around his head as you felt the knot on your lower stomach about to snap. a small groan escaped his lips, his hands gripping around your thighs, surely leaving small bruises on your smooth skin.

soon, the warmth of his tongue on your pussy felt too overwhelming and your orgasm didn't take long to wash over you, leaving you a moaning mess under his touch.

as you came down from your climax, he got rid of his boxers and hovered over you again, his lips finding yours once more. as you tasted yourself on his tongue, you hummed contently into the kiss, your fingers finding their wait to his curls again.

"you alright, love?" he gently asked, taking a minute to look into your eyes.

"need you inside of me," you panted, your legs hooking at each side of his body as you pulled him closer.

he locked his lips with yours as he teased your folds with his cock, both of you moaning into the other's mouth at the friction. he positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed inside of you, letting you adjust to his size.

"so fucking tight for me, baby," his voice sounded breathless as he started thrusting into you without a hurry.

he took it slow, his movements almost lazy but deep.

and god, did it feel good.

you held each other tightly as he kept that slow pace that you two seemed to be enjoying. he reveled in the way your sweet moans filled the room and your nails drew crescent moons on his shoulders, your face contorting in pleasure as he stretched you out deliciously.

feeling your second orgasm starting to build up, your pussy clamped down on him, drawing him even deeper inside of you; which resulted in a low grunt from his lips.

"baby, i'm gonna... fuck..." you whimpered, unable to even form a proper sentence as the pressure in your lower stomach increased again.

"look at me, love," he groaned, and you did as he had asked.

with your gazes locked in each other's, it only took the two of you a few strokes to come undone, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt him cumming inside of you and leaving you weak under his body.

he collapsed on top of you, a little winded as he left a sweet kiss on your lips before moving to lay down on the mattres, pulling you with him.

"i love you," he uttered, his arms wrapped tightly around your body as he kept his cock buried deep inside of you.

"i love you, lan," you mumbled, your face finding the spot between his jaw and his shoulder as you caught your breath, feeling yourself slowly drifting off to sleep with your nose nuzzled on his neck.

[sunshine-theseus]

Fools | Kyra Cooney-Cross x ND!Reader

Words: 4.3k

Summary: no one understood your mind, until you met Kyra.

Notes: Guys I have no knowledge of how Emirates is laid out, how meeting players off the pitch works etc, so I’m completely making this shit up I’m sorry. also sorry for the super long introduction, and the shit writing, I haven’t written in months.

Warnings: mentions of abuse - not proofread. i'm so sorry if this is so shit i genuinely haven't written in months. i wanted this one to be good so bad but i just don't think it is

the person who requested this has since deactivated so i actually feel so bad that i didn't get this out while they were on here. i'm genuinely so sorry for the past like 6 months.

I always struggled with social interactions. I didn’t understand it for a long time, why I always had to smile and hug people, why I had to lie about certain things like how I thought my aunt’s bright green hat looked, why I couldn’t ramble about Star Wars or the new penguin facts I just learned.

Then there were the sounds, and lights and the way things felt. Everything had to be specific, or I couldn’t focus. Sometimes if it was bad enough that I would have a breakdown, unable to do anything. My parents tried to scold it out of me when as a kid I couldn’t eat certain foods or wear the clothes they wanted. Sometimes if they deemed it worthy, I’d be met with the flesh of a palm against my cheek or bottom.

-

When I was 12, I presented the idea that maybe I was autistic to my parents. I’d researched it at school for a social emotional learning class we had to take, and I couldn’t help but notice the similarities I found within myself. If I think about it hard enough, I can feel every burning outline of the dark red hand marks that bloomed on my skin hours after the interaction, and the burning of my eyes as my stomach rumbled, drowned out by the music rumbling through my headphones.

-

At 17 I emancipated from my parents and moved to North Watford, renting out a small studio apartment above a record shop. I completed my final year of high school, working part time in the store, building a much-desired routine. The man that owned the shop and my apartment, and his young daughter, were migrants from Cuba, and more than happy to accommodate to my needs. They even chipped in to help me pay for my autism screening after I graduated high school.

I think they were the first people I willingly hugged ever.

I stopped masking when I moved, so the daughter, Elena; 5, took a few months to understand why I didn’t like touch or loud noises and why I didn’t understand some of the jokes she said that others usually laughed at. Not that I’d had the diagnosis at that time, but she was happy to just spend time with me. Every afternoon when I came back from school and started my shift, she’d beg me for more penguin facts, asking which was my favourite penguin. In return she’d spend the 2-hour shift drawing me something, usually a penguin, to pin on my corkboard at home.

I’d then help with her homework while Camilo closed shop and posted any online orders. It was a routine I cherished deeply.

-

Now, 3 and a bit years later at 21 years old, they managed to drag me to a football game. Equipped with headphones and a couple small sensory toys, as well as a hoodie under the “Miedema” jersey, the material of which originally had me tugging and prying the shirt away from my skin.

Elena and Camilo had been big fans of Arsenal for as long as I’d known them, going to every home game, begging me to join them every week without fail. I finally caved during a break in my uni courses, with nothing to do and Elena’s birthday falling on the day of a game, there was no other choice.

The newly 9-year-old basically imploded when she saw my printed ticket stub, tucked tightly into her birthday card. I gently ruffled her hair, which had become my version of hugging her, and showed her the 3 matching red and white #11 jerseys I purchased not long ago. She’d talked a lot about this Vivianne Miedema and how she wanted to be just like her when she grew up, but she’d never gotten a jersey, or seats on the bottom tier. Today was the day.

~

“Come ooonnn I want to get to our seats!” the pinky of her left hand links with my right one as her other hand is holding her dad’s, and she’s dragging us down the lane toward the entrance.

“Slow down Pollito! We have 20 more minutes until we need to be seated.” My special schedule for the day runs through my head as I check my watch. Plenty of time as long as the crowd keeps flowing.

“I wish you didn’t learn Spanish. It’s such a silly nickname.”

“But you’re my little chicken.” I send a joking frown her way and she replies with a toothless grin.

With the abrupt end to the conversation, we arrive at the gate. Showing the stewardess our tickets to be scanned, we then head toward our seats. As Camilo and I take our seats at the very front, instead of make way to their usual seats a tier up, Elena stops and looks back and forth between us.

“There’s no way you got us these seats.” Without a word I pull the girl in between us and she begins to ramble about how excited she is to be able to see the game so close, still able to be clearly heard through my headphones I manage to slip over my ears.

~

The game is drawn 1-1 just after half time, but Arsenal is close to having the upper hand. From across the pitch, Elena spots the tall and lanky number 11, Vivianne Miedema, pulling off her fluoro yellow bib and warm up shirt and lining up next to number 32 behind the fourth official who is prepping her sign. With a couple of whacks to my arm and an aggressive point of her finger, Elena makes me and Camilo very aware of the impending entrance of her favourite player, and another really attractive girl who is very obviously wearing her socks on the wrong feet. The thought makes me squirm but a shot on goal quickly manages to take my focus.

“Who’s the one coming on with Viv? You’ve never told me about number 32.” It’s hard to take my eyes off the girl as she jumps from one foot to the other, anticipating her entrance.

“Oh that’s Kyra Cooney-Cross! She’s Australian, she transferred at the start of the season. Jonas should play her more.” I acknowledge her words with a hum and a nod before we join in cheering Viv and Kyra on.

My eyes are glued to Kyra the rest of the game. Without any knowledge of how football works, I’m left to assume she’s good with the way she dances around players and passes the ball. It was weird, but her movement was so free flowing it would not be atrocious to confuse her with a ballerina. Elegant and calculated, no hesitation.

~

“Where are we going?” my pinky is once again linked with Elena’s as I drag her and Camilo through Emirates.

“Papa where is she going? The exit is that way.”

“I have no clue chica, but I suppose we should trust her aye?” with that, the father-daughter duo track behind me.

Eventually I stop just where the opening of the tunnel leads out on to the pitch and show a lady the pass I’d been carrying around all day. She smiles and begins walking down the tunnel, waving behind her as a sign for us to follow.

“What’s going on?” Elena asks once again, but I just follow the lady onto the pitch, where multiple members of the Arsenal squad are now loitering around, obviously waiting for something, or someone. At the front of the group is Viv, and when she spots the small girl behind me her eyes light up.

“Hi! You must be Elena. We’ve heard a lot about you!” she sends the girl a smile, but Elena doesn’t make any move to continue the conversation. My head whips to her and I nearly have to laugh from how adorable she is. Her jaw has dropped open and her eyes are welling up with tears, so I ruffle her hair and bend down to her height, removing my headphones.

“What’s up buttercup?” I lightly tap her head.

“That’s really her.” she whispers to me, her eyes not leaving the Dutch woman, who lets out a chuckle.

“Yes it is.”

“How?” I tap the side of my nose at her question indicating it’s to be left a secret.

“Can I have a hug?” Viv kneels on one knee and opens her arms and Elena suddenly breaks lose from her trance and runs up to her hero.

“It’s nice to meet you liefje, I hear you’ve been a fan for a long time. And today’s your birthday. How old are you turning?”

“Nine!”

“Oh wow, you’re growing up!”

“I know, but Y/N still calls me Pollito. I’m not a little chicken.” Everyone looking on bursts out laughing as Elena frowns, and while I join them, the loud sound simply reminds me of the lack of protection on my ears.

~

Elena gets whisked off to talk and play around with Viv and some of the other girls, who seem to all have taken a genuine liking to the young girl, Camilo following to watch over them. I stand firmly on the sidelines, fidgeting with an infinity cube and trying to forget the sudden scratching of my hoodie’s tag on the back of my neck and the tightness of my socks, when a now familiar face pops in front of me.

I don’t notice her at first, my eyes are closed and I’m trying breathing patterns in hopes that the overstimulating sensations with dissipate. It’s only when I open my eyes to check on Elena that I get the shock of my life. Number 32 is just standing in front of me, staring, waiting for me to notice her. no less than a minute ago she’d been spinning Elena around and laughing with her, which I’d found alarmingly adorable, how’d she get here so fast?

She doesn’t say anything, she just smiles and waves, and I realise she must think I can’t hear her with my headphones on, which many people tend to ignore. Wow she’s much prettier up close.

“Hi, I’m Y/N” I return her smile, but don’t make any move to remove the headphones.

“I’m Kyra.” Her voice is muffled but her accent is incredible and like music to my ears.

“You played really well today.” Is she blushing? Red creeps up her neck and finds home on her round cheeks as she smiles brightly.

“Ah thanks, I try to give it my all. Hoping to prove I deserve more game time.”

“You don’t get played often?” another chuckle passes her lips and I feel my stomach tighten.

“Uh no. I take it you’re not a big football fan?”

“What gives you that idea.”

“Well rocking up to an Arsenal game with blue nails for a start.” I cock my head to the side and give her a confused look. I did a lot of research for today, there was no room for me to mess up.

“Chelsea, our biggest rivals, their colour is blue. It’s basically forbidden for an arsenal fan to wear blue to a game. Trust me, I learnt the hard way.”

I’m quick to hide my hands in the pocket at the front of my hoodie, fidgeting with my nails. How did I manage to fuck that up?

“You don’t really have to worry, just maybe keep it in mind if you ever come to another game. I hope you do by the way.” She flashes me a smile that makes me feel warm and I can’t help myself.

“You’re very pretty.” She’s about to reply when I glance down and notice her socks are still wrong.

“And I’m not sure if you know but your socks are on the wrong feet.” It’s quiet for a moment and I’m not sure if my common candour has once again overstepped. I can’t even open my mouth to apologise before she giggles.

“I knew there was something wrong. I keep doing it but no one tells me until after the game… and you’re quite beautiful yourself. If you don’t mind me saying.” My eyes continue to avoid her face as I bounce on the balls of my feet and try to refrain from shaking my hands, my most common stim.

“Thank you.”

We’re silent for a minute or so, which I don’t mind now that I’m more familiar with her. I continue to watch Elena and Camilo, who are now playing in a 5v5, Viv carrying the girl halfway down their makeshift pitch before helping her kick the ball. When her laughs echo through the stadium, joy breaking through her screams and from the yells of her dad who is playing a rather poor referee, I’m reminded of how much I love this family. I can’t help the smile on my face.

“Your sister is very adorable.” I glance to my side where Kyra now resides and contemplate telling her she isn’t my sister, but the words get stuck in my throat. If I were to say they weren’t my family after all they’ve done for me, then I’d be lying.

“Yeah. She’s basically my whole life.”

“Hey can I ask about the headphones? I mean you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want but-“

“I’m autistic. Struggle really bad with sound and other stimulants. I wear headphones to dampen sounds, especially in public. And stadiums are full of sounds.” My palms sweat a little and my breath is laboured for a moment. This is usually the part where people decide I’m a freak and never talk to me again.

“Oh cool. I totally get that, the sound thing.” That warm feeling returns. She doesn’t question anything, she just agrees.

~

Eventually the meet and greet had to end, but I manage to get a few of the girl’s numbers, including number 32’s. Something I hadn’t expected was that the team would love Elena so much that they wanted to organise season tickets and some more passes to meet up after home games. I couldn’t help but be a little proud of myself as the young girl rambled about how amazing it was to get to hang out with her idols, and the prospect of seeing them again.

~

Uni starts back up the following week, so I don’t join the two for a game for quite a while. Despite that, I find myself texting Kyra most days, a good morning and goodnight routine quickly being established. We ask each other questions about each other. ‘What did you want to be if football didn’t work out?’ ‘What made you want to study your course?’ ‘what’s your favourite thing about Australia?’.

She liked to ask me about parts of my autism every now and then. She wanted to know what things to avoid, what topics made me ramble for ages, safe foods. The only other people who had ever cared this much were Elena and Camilo. The two of which had definitely taken note of how happy I’d grown since the game.

“Who are you talking to Angelito? You haven’t smiled this big in a long time.” Camilo takes a seat beside me behind the desk of the store

There is no need to hide the blossoming relationship from him, so I turn my screen to show the messages between Kyra and I, a bold ‘No. 32’ under a very weird but unmistakable picture of the girl. He hums and smiles, lightly nudging our shoulders together.

“She likes you.”

“Pft no she doesn’t.”

“‘you’re so cute.’ ‘I really like you.’ ‘I’ll save that for when I take you on a date.’ With a winky face emoji. She literally admits she likes you. Twice.”

“I thought that was that flirty thing people do with their friends.”

“I know when people like each other.”

“How Milo?”

“I have a gift.”

“A gift hmm?” he just smiles widely down at me before taking my phone again. He begins to type something.

“What are you writing Milo? Milo!” I glance over his shoulder.

‘I really like you and would like to go on a date if you’re free.’ I’m about to scold him but three dots appear as Kyra begins typing.

“If this works you owe me an extra hour this week.”

“You are an evil schemer Camilo.” I say before squeezing his shoulder, a common sign of affection we’d developed.

‘I’d really like that. Tomorrow’s our day off if that works.’

I can’t help the squeal I let out as Camilo writes a response in confirmation.

“I’m going on a date.”

“You deserve this kiddo.”

~

Kyra and I agree on a dinner date at a restaurant I’d mentioned really enjoying a few months ago, that I hadn’t had a chance to visit since. I’d made the reservation, asking for the specific table I’d sat at the last time I came, and I’d already decided on what I was getting before I even hoped in the car to drive there.

I’d planned everything perfectly. The place, my outfit, what time I had to leave to arrive there 10 minutes before our agreed upon time. I hadn’t taken into account the car speeding through a red light and crashing into the car in the right lane beside me. Or the fact that due to the momentum I’d get caught between the 2 cars and the building on the corner of the street I was just about to turn down. No more than 15 metres from the restaurant but I’m trapped and the seatbelt is too tight and my head hurts. I’m crushed between my door and the centre console and all the sirens and ambulance lights approaching are too much and all I can do it cry.

If I could just reach my bag in the footwell of the passenger seat I could get my headphones to relieve some of the stimulation, but I can’t bend that way without my ribs screaming and whatever is poking my hip in my back making itself known.

I pray to every god I can name that I pass out, but no one hears as the jaws of life pry open my door. When were the other cars moved?

“Ma’am we have to cut you out. my colleague here is going to hold you up. Is that okay?” I don’t have any energy to say no, so I nod, waiting for some scissors to snip away at the seatbelt. Instead, I hear an electric saw whir to life.

“W- what’s the saw for?” my words are barely recognisable as they slur together.

“Ma’am everything is okay, just stay still for us okay?”

The sawing is over quicker than it begun, and the paramedics make an effort to move me as carefully as they can onto the stretcher, then into the ambulance. I make no move to complain about how the neck brace is itchy and feels suffocating.

A minute passes and through the newly developed ringing in my ears, I hear someone calling my name. they sound so far away but when I open my eyes again, Kyra is standing above me, next to the paramedic who’s hooking me up to monitors,

“Do you know this lady ma’am?” she asks me as I stare up at the girl I was meant to be on a date with.

“Yeah she’s my girlfriend.” A voice in the back of my head is worried that maybe that will freak Kyra out, but I know they won’t let her ride with me if we don’t have some close connection and for some reason friend does not cross my mind.

They allow her to take the extra seat beside me and she loops her pinky with mine. She keeps glancing down toward my stomach and taking deep breaths as we make our way down the streets of London. I try to see what she’s looking at but the brace doesn’t allow me to look that far down.

“You’re going to be okay.” She whispers as they roll me out of the ambulance, and she manages to quickly kiss me before I’m gone from view.

~

I don’t know how long I’m out for, but when I wake up there is a sterile white light beaming down on me and I have to instantly close my eyes. I’m quick to take note of the horrible feeling of the hospital gown I definitely wasn’t in when I’d gone under.

“Papa! She’s awake!” I let out a groan at the yell but and quick to smile once the voice registers in my head.

“Pollito.” My voice is no more than a whisper, hoarse and dry.

“Hey Angelito. How are you feeling.”

“Horrible. The light’s too bright and the gown is so itchy.” Neither Elena nor Camilo leave my side, but the light is off within seconds.

“I more meant physically. You were hit pretty hard.” The screeching of tyres, the smell of burnt rubber, the flashing lights, all rush back to me. So does the pain.

“Now that you mention it. What’s the damage?” it’s meant as a joke but I’m trying not to cry.

“3 broken ribs, 2 fractured, a torn vastus lateralis in your thigh, a lot of muscle damage in your back. It’s going to be a lot of physical therapy kiddo.” The thought has bile rising in my throat.

“Fuck me.”

“It’s okay, we’re going to be here the whole way. All of us.” By now I could know the voice in a crowd of people.

I turn my head and there she is. Kyra is sat in one of the uncomfortable hospital seats with her hand on top of mine.

“If it’s okay with you, Camilo, me and some of the arsenal girls are going to sort out a schedule to take turns helping you with PT. Viv was really hoping she could give some tips considering how long she spent doing PT.”

“That sounds perfect. But please tell me one of you has my pyjamas. I need to get out of this gown.”

~

There was no lie in how difficult rehab was. I had an hour appointment at the hospital every day and additional work at home that Milo, Kyra and some of the arsenal girls happily helped with. The hardest hurdle was amount of physical touch that was required. My physical therapist, Jordan, always made sure I knew when she needed to touch my leg or something, but that did very little to sooth the feeling that crawled beneath my skin. She was able to dim the fluorescent white lights and allowed me to wear my headphone which did help a small amount.

Kyra basically moved into my room above the shop. Milo insisted he could do all the work of getting me around the house and the shop, but we knew he couldn’t while maintaining the shop and looking after Elena. Elena tried her best to help by making me breakfast. She gathered pre-made versions of my safe breakfast food and carefully place them separately on a plate, with a glass of orange juice every morning. After the first week she realised I’d be in a wheelchair and struggling to move around much for much longer than she thought, so she quickly gave up on that idea and began making me penguin drawings at school.

I’d adapted to having Kyra around much quicker than I expected to. When I moved in at 17, it took me months to get used to the layout and the fact that I was alone, despite Camilo and Elena living in the house across the road. I adapted to Kyra’s presence within weeks.

After the second week we’d decided it was easier to share the bed rather than her sleeping on the couch, which had been the biggest change. I struggled with it the first few nights. I had a sleep routine that was already disrupted by the injuries, now I had to take another person into account. But she was so warm, and I felt so safe in her arms. Whenever I woke up from a nightmare about the crash, she grabbed me an iced tea and my headphones and would ramble about whatever interests she had recently developed or whatever was happening at training.

It was in the second month things took a more serious turn. Well serious for our relationship. I was sitting at the table chopping the vegetables for dinner while she begins cooking, when I took a minute to just look at her. The warm lighting softened her features, her quiet humming to whatever song was playing carried throughout the room, the smile that seemed to never leave her face sat perfectly on her lips as she listened to me ramble about the newly discovered yellow king penguin. She was so radiant and attentive, and she was never annoyed at me when I was overstimulated or wanted to infodump. She was seemingly unaffected by my rehab and most importantly unaffected by my autism. After a life full of negative interactions and losing people because of one thing I couldn’t control, I’d found a family and a partner who embraced me.

I didn’t realise I was crying until she turned and asked me what was wrong.

“I’m just grateful.”

“For what?”

“You, Milo, Elena. I love you all so much.” I didn’t realise I’d said it really. I was just being candid, as I always was.

“You love me?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation even as it dawned on me.

“Well, I love you too.” There is a split second between the end of her sentence and the meeting of our lips in a kiss.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” I ask as we pull away.

“Wait- I thought- when you called me your girlfriend on the ambulance I kind of took that as you asking me to be your girlfriend.” She begins laughing.

“What? This whole time I’ve been nervous about actually asking you and you already thought I had?” I can’t help but join her laugh.

“We’re such fools.” She whispers, and we kiss again.

I'll always be a fool for her.

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LADS Zayne: Shades of Jade | NSFW

Okay so I legit wrote this weeks ago but I never got around to fully editing it, and at this rate I never would. Had @zayne-li check for typos so here we go. No crazy fic edits but I mean...I think it's still good without it. Anyway, this is the pegging Shifu fic.

❧ Pairings: Zayne x Reader ❧ Warnings: Pegging, Bottom Zayne, Top Reader, Gender Neutral Terms, AFAB Reader, Oral Sex (M Receiving), Anal Fingering ❧ Synopsis: You adored Zayne so much, and while intimacy was still new to you, there was something you were dying to try on him. Something you had found out when you had gone out to town and talked with some of the ladies there. So you worked hard on a piece of jade you found, too embarrassed to ask a craftsman to make it for you. Your only hope was that Shifu would be willing to let you try it on him. ❧ Word Count: 7.5k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Zayne

Shade of Jade

Living alongside Shifu…Zayne had been a different experience. It was a simple routine you guys had fallen into after almost two years in the mountains. You knew him, knew his reactions, and you thrived off of it. You loved the man so much that sometimes it physically hurt. 

Routines, though, could sometimes get dull. It’s why you found yourself finding new hobbies whenever you could. Zayne had mentioned two months back that he had seen some jade in the nearby lake, which meant you had spent an entire week there. Ankle deep and searching for some jade. While you had procured a fair bit of jade, the piece you had found near the end of your hunt had been something else.

Even Zayne had been impressed when he saw the large chunk of jade in your arms. The length of it was almost the size of your entire forearm. At first, you debated going into town and seeing if the local jade carver could make something out of it, but then an idea popped into your head. It wasn’t anything terrible, but you had plans and couldn’t find it in you to ask someone else to carve it.

It led to you at least seeking out the artisan in town and asking for a rundown. It had been a little old lady who had taken up the mantle after her husband had passed away. The woman had been more than happy to help you out, especially after admitting it was a present for your lover. So, you practiced on a few of the smaller pieces you found until you had enough confidence to make what you needed.

You had spent literal weeks on end with the project, smoothing things out and focusing on its details. Anytime Zayne was out working on charms, you were in the back with your project. He had only asked you about it once, and after telling him it was a surprise, he had let it go.

Sadly, you couldn’t make absolutely everything you needed from scratch. You had gone ahead and asked a leather maker to create some items as well, but you planned on assembling it yourself. The last thing you wanted was to be the talk of the town, for everyone to know exactly what you were working on.

You swore today would be the final day. You were so close to being done with the jade piece. The harness was finished as well, tucked away in a safe location for the time being. A homemade jar of boiled red seaweed was under the sink at the house, hidden away from Zayne’s eyes.

You could hear his footsteps as he approached you, and you hid the item underneath a blanket you kept on your lap, “Are you still working on that?” Zayne’s voice broke through as he leaned down over you. He knew whatever you were making was with jade, so you didn’t have to bother hiding the tools, at least.

“It’s a very…big project, mister,” You said while reaching up to pinch his cheeks, “However, it’s almost done. I should have it finished by late this evening.”

You felt his lips against your cheek as he gave you a small peck, “Then should I prepare myself to receive it later today?” he asked, pressing another kiss to your cheek. You giggled as you looked up at him, taking his face between your hands and dragging him down for a kiss.

“Yes, sir,” You finally said, and you could see his shoulders sagging in relief. He had been curious, of course, but knew better than to pry when it was something this important to you. Still, he had to stop himself many times from looking into it, finding out exactly what you had been spending weeks doing.

Zayne took your hand, now marred in shallow cuts, and brought them to his lips to kiss them, “I think I’ll be most excited that you’ll no longer be hurting yourself on my behalf,” he said, not letting go of your hand.

“It’s just part of carving jade; it’s fine. It’s not like they’re serious, and I haven’t nicked myself in almost two weeks. Look, they’re basically healed over now.” You said, and he let out a sigh.

“I suppose you’re right. I’ll be out-. “

“By the sacred tree, making charms, I know,” you had finished his sentence for him. He gave you a small smile before walking away, his robes flowing gently as he left you. You let out a small sigh as soon as he was gone and took out the object once more.

You just wanted to define one of the grooves near the bottom of the shaft. You had managed to turn a large chunk of jade into a toy, careful with how you carved it so you’d be able to fit it into your leather harness. It was only about five inches in length, which was plenty for what you wanted to use it for. Your hand went over its blunt tip.

You had done your best to make it look like a dick but did deviate to make some grooves and to accommodate the original shape of the jade. The very tip of it was curved, and depending on how you put it in the harness, it would be either up or down. 

The idea itself had come to you almost the moment you had looked at the raw chunk of jade. You read up on male anatomy, and after finding out about the prostate and males having sex with one another, you wanted to be the one to fuck Zayne. You had no idea how he would receive the request, though. It was taboo, and you hadn’t really heard a lot of others talk about it before. You guys were still getting used to casual sexual intimacy, after all.

When you first slept with Zayne, it was the first time either of you had done anything like it. Ever since then, you were in a constant state of wanting to jump the man, to feel him inside of you. Oftentimes, he’d be doing most of the work, so you wanted to return the favor.

It took another hour before the final touches were done. The smooth jade didn’t have any harsh edges that might hurt Zayne, and it looked perfect. You searched around, pulled out the leather harness you had assembled, and slotted it inside. It fit perfectly, which you had hoped. It was literally made for it, after all.

You took the jade out of the harness and placed it in a small satchel. You then undid your robes after looking around to make sure Zayne wasn’t nearby, then began fastening the harness around your hips. You made sure it was snug around your hips and thighs, not able to move much.

The final step was going into the kitchen and finding the lubricant you had made. The sweet old jade lady had taught you how to make it after you had casually asked her. She had an almost knowing look in her eyes when she explained how to make it from the red seaweed that could be purchased in town. You had the oddest feeling that she knew what you were up to, but you had done your best to remain calm and neutral about the situation.

You looked over the small jar, then placed it into the satchel as well. You secured it together and checked to make sure your robes covered the harness. You opted to just wear the first layer of clothing, knowing that the current weather outside wouldn’t be too cold at this time of year. The less you had to take off, the better. After all, you’d have to disrobe Zayne, which in itself was going to be difficult. The god wore far too many layers.

You left the sanctuary of your home and made your way outside. The sacred tree was right there, and you could see Zayne sitting at the table outside, working on the charms just like he said he would. Your strides were fast as you quickly closed the distance between you two.

Zayne didn’t even look up; instead, he focused on his brush strokes as he spoke. “Have you finished your project?” he asked as you looked down at his hands. They were always so elegant, and you wondered how he never got the ink over the white of his gloves. You assumed centuries of doing calligraphy would make it easier not to make mistakes.

“I did,” you said while placing the satchel on the table. He finished what he was doing and put the charm to the side with the growing pile of them. He looked at the satchel curiously, then back up at you.

“It looks larger than I expected,” He admitted to you, causing you to smirk. You wondered if he even knew what he was talking about as your head went to the gutter for a second.

“How about we clean some of this up before you open it, hm?” you asked as you went to take the dried charms. He had a large box next to him on the ground, where he’d put the slips of paper after they were finished.

Zayne helped you as he delicately picked up the still-wet pieces, careful not to allow any smudges, “Will you be helping me make these later? It’s been a while since we were last able to make charms side by side; I can’t lie and say I haven’t missed it.” His words were sweet, and you blushed a bit.

“We can tomorrow. I think we’re going to be a bit preoccupied tonight.” You said as the table was finally cleared. Zayne was now looking at you with confusion. The sun wouldn’t be setting for another two hours, and he doubted opening a present would take that much time.

“If you say so,” He went to gingerly take the bag, but you stopped him quickly and cleared your throat.

“Um, a little bit of context for this present…I wanted to try something new with you if that’s alright.” You finally got out, and you could see the cogs in his head turning. He blinked owlishly, trying to understand exactly what you were implying, “I want to try something new with…sex,” you clarified.

His mouth opened in a small ‘o’, “So you made something for that?” while Zayne wasn’t terribly well versed in a lot of things humans did in the bedroom, he did know about toys. You had, after all, explained it to him a few times. You even used a rope at one point, but you guys hadn’t tried anything too out there yet.

He finally went and opened the gift, his hands carefully pulling out the well-made jade dildo. He turned it in his hands, fingers running over the edges for a moment as he admired your handiwork. “You made this yourself.” There was no judgment there; if anything, you could hear a little bit of pride in his tone.

“Ya, I didn’t exactly know how to ask a little old lady to…make a phallic object like this.” You admitted to him, and his eyes sparkled with a sense of amusement.

“You did a wonderful job,” he complimented, as though he weren’t holding an artificial dick and instead held something fancy like an accessory. Well, in a sense, it was going to be an accessory for you to wear.

You watched as he then placed the item onto the table, and pulled out the jar of lube next. He turned that in his hand as well before uncapping in. He could see the liquid inside and smelled it. It was familiar to him, and he could hazard a guess as to what it was.

“So, did you want me to use these objects on you?” He wasn’t sure why you’d want to use a toy. It was very well made, but you didn’t need one. He had told you in the past that he would always be available if you had urges. He wouldn’t lie and say his thoughts on you were always pure, either. He was almost a little…resentful that you’d prefer using a toy rather than himself.

“Well, actually, I wanted to use it…on you.” You finally said, waiting to see his reaction. His eyes snapped open, then looked over towards the toy, then back at you. It was like something finally clicked in his head, and you could see how the tips of his ears were now a bright red tone.

“Why would you…I mean,” he didn’t even know how to respond to that. The thought of an object going inside of him was certainly something he hadn’t even entertained the possibility of.

“So I mean, I’ve read up on some scrolls. And while it’s frowned upon for men to be with one another, there’s still a lot of…if you know how to find it…writings on it.” You admitted. You had at one point been speaking to a few ladies at the local bathhouse, and one of them had mentioned it before. After getting to know the group they had…let you read a few scrolls of men making love to one another. They always seemed to really enjoy it, and while you didn’t have a dick yourself, you figured making one would be fine.

“You won’t be able to feel anything though. Is the way we do it currently not to your liking?” he almost seemed upset when he posed this question.

You walked up to him and cupped his cheeks, “Don’t ever think I don’t enjoy being with you. I love the feeling of you, the connection, the intimacy. I love everything about it. I just wanted to be the one giving this time around. It should feel good.” You said, “And I have a good idea as to what needs to be done, so it does feel nice.”

Zayne seemed to think about it before nodding, “Could you explain then? I think I’d like to have a good idea as to what exactly you’d like to do.” He said, and you felt your shoulders sag. He seemed a little more open to the idea now, and you nodded.

“Well I made some lubricant to help coat the toy and…your entrance,” Zayne seemed to flush and avoid eye contact at that bit, “As long as I properly stretch you open with my fingers first, it should just…slide in without much issue. You’ll have to relax first…then there’s the uh…cleaning that would need to be done to avoid…” you didn’t exactly know how to word the next part. Zayne seemed to have gotten the hint, however, with how he nodded.

“That…shouldn’t be an issue. I’m not a human, so…” he said, and now it was your turn to flush. Not what you had been expecting, but it was better. You had read up on cleaning methods, and while you would be there to support your partner, you’d doubt he’d want you there for it.

“Well then…that makes things easier. So…would you be okay with me making love to you?” you finally said. His breath caught in his throat at the way you phrased it.

He finally nodded and gave you a small smile, albeit a little embarrassed, “If you’d truly like to, I’d be willing to try at least once. Besides, it would be a shame if the jade implement you created wasn’t ever used. I know how hard you worked on it.” He said, and you let out a happy noise from the back of your throat.

“Alright, then, let’s prepare you,” you said as you stepped closer. Your hands were placed carefully on either side of him as he found himself caged between you and the table behind him.

“You’d like to do this here?” he said, and you nodded. You cupped the back of his neck as you dragged him down to your level. Your lips ghosted over one another as you breathed in one another’s air.

“It’s not like we haven’t done things in nature before. Nobody can find this place, after all. It’s just the two of us right now.” You said before leaning up to kiss him. Zayne always melted into your lips the moment they were on his. Closing his eyes and just enjoying the feel of you. His hands went to your waist, dragging you closer to his body as your lips melded together.

He let out a small moan as you bit his bottom lip, getting access to his mouth as your tongue pressed against his own. He let you guide the kiss this time, shivering when he felt one of your hands on his hip. It rested there for a moment before it began traveling to the front. You moved your body slightly away from his own so you’d have a better angle to work with.

Your hand went to cup him through the layers of clothing he had. Despite all the fabric, you could feel him. The faint warmth and the subtle twitch of his cock underneath his trousers. He groaned into the kiss, his hips moving on their own as your tongue went to the roof of his mouth. It was always so easy to rile him up; just from kissing and talking about sex, he was already rock hard.

Your mouth finally left his own as your lips attached to where his earlobe was, taking it between your lips and sucking it. He let out a gasp, feeling your hand moving from his crotch to his arms. Your fingers danced on his forearm until you found one of the clasps that held his gloves to his robe. With deft hands, you unclasped one of them and used your hand to trail down to his palm, playing there for a moment before taking his glove off.

You did the same with his other, taking it off with almost a practiced ease. This time, you took his hand in your own, squeezing it as you savored being able to feel his without anything in the way. The warmth seeping from his palm into your own had you let out a small moan. Your kisses had trailed to his jawline, sucking a small mark there as well.

Your hand slipped from his and went up to his front, working the clasps of his cloak off. “I know I’ve told you this before, but…” you trailed as you pushed off the bands around his shoulders, “Your outfit is really pretty, but it’s a nightmare to take off, especially when I want to see you naked beneath me.”

He let out a moan from your words, allowing you to work the cape off of him. It fell gracefully onto the ground, and he was left in his robes and pants, “Now do me a favor and remove your boots for me.”

Zayne lifted his leg up enough for him to work the clasps off his boots, all while watching as you undid the bottom of your robes and pushed them to the side. His eyes widened when he noticed the leather straps around you. He was now understanding what you meant when you said you wanted to make love to him. He had thought you’d be using the toy with your hands, not like this.

He swallowed the lump in his throat as he felt you come close to him again. Your lips were now able to attach to his neck as you peppered it in kisses. His hands went down to his pants, intent on taking those off as well, but you were already working on something else, your hands starting to undo the ties of his robe and letting the garment fall off his shoulders.

Your hands went down, playing with the hem of his pants before tugging them down his waist. With all the layers he wore, it was always shocking to you to find out he didn’t wear underwear. Not that you’d ever complain about such a thing. You watched as Zayne kicked away the pants around his ankles, leaving him bare from the waist down.

You didn’t hesitate in dropping down to your knees, your mouth pressing kisses to his inner thighs. He twitched the moment he felt the heat of your lips kissing him. He was always so bashful when you went down on him, assuring you it wasn’t necessary, but you loved it. Loved watching him crumble in front of you from how good it all felt. It was your favorite activity.

His cock was already leaking as you wrapped a hand around the shaft, giving it a few small pumps and watching as his eyes almost rolled back. You pushed down the foreskin and licked at the slit; a groan erupted from the back of Zayne’s throat as he looked down, watching your every move.

Zayne’s hands were fisting the edge of the table, his nails scraping it every so slightly as he focused on his breathing. He felt how you wrapped your mouth around the head, slowly sliding down on his length as you hummed at the taste. Oddly enough, you had found Zayne to be on the sweeter end of flavors. You had heard women discuss it before, talking about their partner being bitter and salty. While that held true, it wasn’t bad at all. You would often have him cum in your mouth and swallow it happily, never gagging from the taste.

You took your mouth off of him with a pop and began stroking him again, “Can you open that jar and hand it to me?” you asked, smirking once you saw him snap back to what was going on. He had been so zoned out while you worked on his dick that he almost didn’t hear you.

With slightly shaky hands, you watched him go and grab the tub of lube. He opened the jar and held it out for you to dip your fingers inside of it. The substance was slippery and a bit more on the watery end of the spectrum. It would certainly work with what you had planned, though, as you adjusted your position between his legs.

Your finger came up, prodding at his entrance, and you could feel how he tensed up. He let out another groan as he looked down at you with hesitant eyes. Even as you prodded, your finger wouldn’t slip in easily. He was so damn tight that, for a moment, you wondered if this would even work.

“You need to calm down, love,” you said, pressing a kiss to his thigh. You heard the little gasp leaving him as his legs opened up more for you.

“I’m trying, but it’s…different,” He didn’t know how to put it into words. He never thought about putting anything inside of him like this, so his entire body was being held taut. The tension in him not wanting to snap as all his muscles clenched up.

Your finger continued to circle his entrance before realizing it wouldn’t do you any good until you managed to calm him down some. A distraction of some kind was certainly needed at the moment, and you trailed your eyes over to the table and spotted something that could be used.

“My heart, can you hand me the calligraphy brush with a bit of ink?” you finally asked, pressing another kiss on the opposite side of his thigh. Zayne’s eyes followed your gaze and noticed what you were referring to, realizing that it hadn’t been taken off the table in your little moment of cleaning earlier.

“Might I ask…what for?” he said, not knowing what you had planned. You laughed in response as you bit down on his thigh. He grunted and bit down on his lower lip before going to grab you the item.

“It’s not for anything bad, I promise,” you assured him. As he handed you the brush, you leaned back. Your hand, still slick with lube, made it a little hard to hold, but it would be fine. It wasn’t like you were about to paint a piece of artwork on the man, after all.

Instead, you slowly took the brush over his thigh and drew a heart shape on it. Zayne shivered in response to the cool ink touching his skin, and he looked down at your little project. Next to the heart, you began drawing a small jasmine flower, and he sighed.

“What are you doing? Painting on my thighs?” he asked, not knowing why you were stopping like this. You chuckled as you began writing your name on his thigh next, deliberate with every brush stroke.

“I’m giving you a break,” you said as you finished writing your name, “You looked like you needed some time to calm down.”

You handed the brush back to him, and he couldn’t help himself. He ran the brush gently over your cheek, drawing some unknown design onto your face. You gave him a little smile as you kissed the drawings you had done, pressing right underneath them to not taint your mouth with the fresh ink.

“I thank you for your consideration,” he said as he placed the brush back where it belonged. In that moment, he felt your finger back against him, now pressing into his entrance. He let out a loud, surprised groan as your finger was finally able to slip inside of him.

Your mouth was back on his cock, sucking him down and licking at the veins that went up his shaft. Your finger slowly fucking into him the entire time as Zayne closed his eyes.

He wasn’t sure how he should feel or react. It didn’t feel particularly nice, and it was a strange, foreign sensation. It didn’t feel bad either, though, which confused him. Perhaps it was due to you sucking his dick at the same time that made him so confused with how this all felt. He just knew that he was finding himself enjoying the process.

He let out a long, drawn-out moan as he felt another finger slipping inside his entrance. You began scissoring your fingers, intent on stretching him out as much as you could. He was grunting, letting out small moans, and even a whine managed to escape him as you worked him.

Your free hand went to grab onto his thigh, smearing a bit of your handiwork and leaving a hand-print. Zayne’s hand went to thread into your hair, pushing it out of your way as you began hollowing your cheeks out. You hummed around his shaft, feeling how his fingernails were gently scraping against your head. Your eyes were closed as you focused on the task at hand.

More of his pre cum began sliding down your throat, and you could feel his dick twitching. He was already so close, but you wanted him to cum from the strap. You didn’t want to tire him out so quickly, so you slowly withdrew your mouth and fingers from him. He had loosened up a decent amount from all the stimulation you had been giving him, and you were pretty sure he’d be able to take your cock now.

Zayne held back a whine after you left him; instead, your mouth now pressed sloppy, wet kisses to his thighs as you allowed him to calm down. You slowly rose back up until you were able to drag him down for another quick kiss. He moaned when he could taste himself on your lips, his tongue darting out to lick at you.

You couldn’t deny him anything, allowing him to explore your mouth for a moment as he rolled his hips into your stomach, seeking something to help him feel good. When you parted, you leaned forward to suck at his Adam’s apple, watching as he whined before you spoke against his skin.

“Alright, baby boy, did you want me to lay you on your back against the table, or would you prefer to be standing and bent over, facing away from me?” you decided to give him the option. Both sounded good; you’d be able to watch his facial expressions if he was on his back. If he were bent over, it would be easier to watch the artificial dick sliding into his entrance.

“I’m…unsure,” he finally got out, his voice coming out a bit huskier right now, “Which position is easier for the first time?” he said the last part, quieter, hesitant in his wording.

“I’ve heard being bent over is a bit easier, but whatever you’re comfortable with,” you said, letting him get the final say in the situation.

He took another moment to debate before he nodded, “Alright, then that’s how we’ll do it,” he said, and you smiled. You kissed him again, this time chaste and kick. You then worked on moving the bottom of your robes out of the way as they had fallen in front of you again.

You grabbed the jade dildo from next to him and began working into the harness—the tiny o-ring allowed it to be secure against your pelvis so it wouldn’t be moving around. Zayne couldn’t help himself, now opting to stare at you with the phallic object strapped to you.

He couldn’t help the way his cock twitched at the sight, realizing he might like this more than he anticipated. You looked stunning like this, and he wanted more. He wanted to see more, to feel more; he wanted everything. Even if it was embarrassing to be so vulnerable, he knew you’d never judge him. You two always took things one step at a time, something he adored about you.

As soon as everything was secure, you looked at him, “Alright, turn around,” you instructed. Zayne took one final moment to admire you before doing what he was told. He turned around so he was facing the table, and before he could do anything, he felt your hand on his back, pushing him down so he was resting on his forearms. It wasn’t a position he ever thought he’d be in with you, and he was realizing how you must feel at times with how exposing this was.

He felt your foot nudging at his own, signaling for him to part his feet a little more. He adjusted accordingly, and then he felt your hands on his ass. You squeezed down on the plumpness of his butt for a moment, admiring how firm yet squishy it still was. You knew he had a nice ass, but it was always hidden by about ten layers of clothing, so you could never admire it. Now, you had every intention of watching it jiggle with every thrust of your hips.

He watched your hand reach next to him, dipping back into the already open jar of lube. You grabbed a decent amount this time, enough for some to slip between your fingers and onto the desk. While Zayne couldn’t see what you were doing, he could hear it. The wet squelching noises as you coated the fake cock in the slippery fluid to help it go into his ass without resistance. 

“Are you ready?” your voice broke the quiet of the moment. Zayne looked behind him to see you towering over him, one hand on the dildo and the other parting one of his cheeks so you’d have an easier time seeing it. His ears and cheeks were painted in a pretty, vibrant red hue.

“Yes,” it was all he could really think to say at that moment. He watched as your face turned into a gentle smile at his words.

“Alright, let me know if you need me to stop at any time. Just say the word jasmines, alright?” you said, and he nodded.

He took in a shaky breath, “Okay, just please…put it in already,” the longer he waited, the more time he had to second guess if this was what he really wanted.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words; you pressed the tip of the artificial dick against his entrance and watched as the tip managed to breach the tight ring of muscle. He let out a gasp, his body instinctively leaning away from the intrusion. 

You cooed, rubbing at his ass as you slid a little more into him. You could feel the resistance as he clamped down on it, not allowing you to push in any further, “Calm down, baby boy,” you said gently. You didn’t want it to sound like scolding, but you knew if he kept tensing up, then this wouldn’t be a fun experience for either of you.

He pressed his face into the sleeves of his robes, his shoulders bare from how it had slid down. He let out a slight nod in confirmation, too flustered to even look back at you. You watched as he took in a few shaky breaths, willing his body to relax for you. As soon as you felt the resistance faltering, you pushed more of the toy into him.

You heard him whine as you took a moment to pull out a bit and thrust in, getting a little bit deeper this time. His body jolted forward, and his legs parted a little more as he arched his back. He dared to look over at you, his lidded eyes staring you down as you repeated the motion.

It still felt odd to him, and without something touching his cock it wasn’t as good as before. He wondered if it would even be possible for him to get off like this. If he wasn’t going to cum, he would let you know. Perhaps ask if you could at least play with his body a bit so he could get released, then finish off by spreading your thighs around his face so he could repay the favor.

His inner musings were cut short; however, when he felt the rest slip inside of him. He suddenly felt so complete as he balled his fists up and closed his eyes. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before, and everything was almost too much for him to handle.

His hand reached behind him, grabbing onto your thigh in an almost bruising grasp. It was desperate and needy as he cleared his throat, “G-give me a moment,” he said through clenched teeth, “Need to ah-adjust,” he said. His heart felt like it was pounding right out of his chest in the moment.

“Alright, let me know when I can move,” you said, running your hands down his back. He shivered at the contact, but the touch was grounding for him. He was trying to focus on everything but the intense pressure building in his stomach and the fullness he currently felt.

It was…pleasant. To be stuffed like this was something he had never entertained, but now that he was experiencing it firsthand, he realized it wasn’t a bad sensation. It still wasn’t incredibly arousing, but it was something else. He felt a little sentimental, realizing that this was yet another first experience you two were sharing. Your first kiss, first time having sex, first time cuddling with someone to bed, everything with you was so new.

“So pretty…” you couldn’t help but admire as you waited. You weren’t in a rush, wanting him just to feel good. You were aiming for him to cum from the cock alone, and you were confident you could achieve it if you got the angle right, “So beautiful, all for my eyes and my eyes only,” you muttered, and Zayne let out a content sigh.

“I’m ready,” he finally got out, ready to allow you to properly begin fucking into him. With his consent, you slowly took the dick out until it was about halfway in there, then you rolled your hips back in. The little mewl he let out was like music to your ears as you repeated the motion.

Now that you were moving, it was starting to feel better for Zayne. It wasn’t uncomfortable with the stretch anymore, and he could feel the grooves of the implement scraping gently on his insides. It had him wanting to whimper, but instead, he opted to sink his teeth into the fabric of his robe’s sleeve. He could feel your pace begin to pick up, a steady rhythm coming from you.

Every thrust punched the air out of his lungs as he tried to focus on not making too many noises. If it were the usual moaning or grunting, it would be fine. Instead, he felt the tiny little wails threatening to escape his throat as he clenched his fists until his nails were digging into his palms.

“Zayne, I want to hear you,” you managed to get out, sliding one hand up to his hair. You knew he liked hair pulling; you had done it several times to him in the past. It was never too harsh, but you were tempted right in that moment. With the angle you had him in and how he was focusing on hiding all his pretty noises, damn, were you tempted.

Zayne made no move in extracting the sleeve from his mouth, still working on being silent as you fucked into his ass. You let out a small sigh, deciding just to try it out. He had the safe word if he felt uncomfortable with something you did, after all.

While your thrusting began picking up, the hand that was on his back was wrapped around the base of where his hair was tied. You let a few locks slip out until you were right under it, and then you tugged hard. He cried out as his head snapped back from the movement, a pitiful whimper escaping him.

His mouth now hung open as he let his moans out freely. He began adjusting his position, trying to get more comfortable now that you were holding onto his ponytail like this. His hands were flat against the table as his arms straightened up to help him up a touch.

“Good boy, just like that,” you managed to say between breaths, the constant movement of your hips as you angled the fake cock getting to you. You never realized how much of a workout this could be, but the sight of the jade dildo disappearing in his ass had you transfixed, as well as the loud moans and whines he was letting out.

Zayne’s breathing was coming out as pants now; he could feel that familiar coil building up. He had doubts he’d be able to cum like this, but now he was sure it was not only possible but inevitable. He was getting closer with every thrust of your hips as his cock began sliding against the table underneath him.

With the new position Zayne was in, you could angle your hips just right. You knew you finally found what you were looking for when he keened, the high-pitched noise mixing with the sounds of slapping.

“W-wait,” Zayne managed to get out. He hadn’t expected the feeling inside of him. Whatever you had managed to graze with the dick had done something to him. It felt so fucking good that he couldn’t even form a coherent thought as the tip of the dildo slammed right back into it.

His cock was drooling onto the table, leaving a small puddle underneath him. He wanted to hide his face, hide from you, but he couldn’t. The feeling of your hand still tugging at his ponytail kept his face upright, so he was looking up at the sky. The multi-colored light blurred in his vision as the sun started to set.

Zayne’s body now shook, and you had to release his ponytail to grab onto his hips and make sure he didn’t collapse in on himself. He was unsteady as his eyes went unfocused, “N-need a, feel mhm p-plea ah differ-ah haaaa,” he couldn’t even get the words out through the cloud of lust engulfing him. The thrusting left him breathless as you continued abusing that sweet spot inside of him.

You could see how his hands were clawing at the table underneath him, leaving physical marks of his pleasure on the wood. You were certain any time the man was working; he’d see those and get hard off the memory of what you did. You watched as drool began forming in the corner of his mouth, his face being just barely visible enough for you to see what was happening.

You then watch as his cheek is pressed against his arm, laying his upper body back down onto the table as he couldn’t hold himself up. It looked like he was going to try and say something, but the words were lost on his lips. Not that you needed him to speak; after all, his body’s reaction was enough to tell you what he wanted to say.

You watched his cock jump, painting the table in his cum. The pearly white substance smeared where his cock was, getting onto some of his robes as it joined the puddle of pre underneath him. He was utterly debauched at this moment, unable to form a coherent thought as you milked his prostate, getting an orgasm to roll off of him in waves.

It had been like nothing he experienced thus far. He knew that an orgasm felt amazing, but this time, it was like it had gone through his entire body and left his head feeling a bit fuzzy. You smiled as you continued holding him up, rolling your hips into his sweet spot gently until his dick stopped leaking.

There were tears in the corners of his eyes as he shook from exertion, the climax draining him and leaving him feeling completely boneless in the moment. The only thing he could think about was being held by you, to hear your voice gently coax him back to reality.

It was something you wanted as well, as you slowly pulled the fake cock out of him. He let out a pitiful whimper, almost missing the full feeling of your strap inside of him. He looked back at you with a hazy expression, not knowing if he needed to speak at the moment.

“You did so good, my love,” you said as you began working the straps off of your hips. You placed the now dirty toy off to the side, knowing you could clean it at a later date. You then looked around and grabbed the nearby chair. You dragged it over to you two and sat down on it, then spun your lover around and made him sit on your lap.

Despite his size, he was curling up into you. His face tucked into the crook of your neck as he nuzzled into you. He breathed in your scent and savored the moment of closeness. He could hear your voice whispering gentle praises to him as your hands were placed with his hair for a moment, before running down his hips and soothing them with your caress.

You pressed a kiss to his exposed shoulder, and it was enough to get him to come back to you finally. The haze in his eyes cleared up as he continued nuzzling into your neck, not wanting to leave just yet.

“I think…I’m better now,” his voice came out hoarse as he spoke to you. You stopped your kisses for a moment as you nudged him off your shoulder so you could look at him properly. Your hands cupped his face as you took in his appearance.

His cheeks and ears still held a flush, and his bangs messily stuck to his forehead. Unshed tears were still in his eyes, and you swiped your thumb over the corner of his mouth to clean up the wet mess from his drool.

“You’re so pretty,” you murmured, leaning forward to kiss him. He closed his eyes and basked in the moment with you, kissing you back lazily as your lips melded with his own. When you parted, you spoke up, “Are you feeling better now?”

He nodded his head, “Yes, a bit,” he said as he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against your own. You looked up at him, admiring every part you could see.

“We should head to the river soon, get you properly cleaned up…” Despite your words, neither of you made a move to get up and break the moment.

“Perhaps later; I’m unsure I can walk at the moment,” he sighed, “My legs are shaking still,” when you placed your hands over his thighs, you could feel the slight tremble.

“Take your time then; we’ll go when you’re ready,” you assured him, “I love you; I hope you know that,” 

He smiled as he opened his eyes, “I’m aware; I love you as well,” it was sappy, it was sweet, but honestly, it fits with how he was. Soft, gentle, and completely yours in whatever way you could have him.

[lecsainz]

monegasque charm

pairings: arthur leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: arthur making stupid pick-up lines, jokes between the leclerc brothers.

authors note: i strongly believe that arthur should make this kind of joke with his girlfriend and the leclerc brothers teasing each other, omg i love this family!

word count: 1K

Y/N and her friends had been looking forward to the Monaco Grand Prix for months. They had saved up their money, booked their tickets, and packed their bags with excitement and anticipation. But as they approached the circuit, their excitement turned to frustration as they found themselves stuck in a long queue of cars, barely moving at all.

"Can you believe this?" Y/N groaned, leaning her head against the car window. "We're going to miss the whole race at this rate."

Her friends nodded in agreement, muttering under their breath about the terrible traffic and the incompetence of the organizers. But Y/N couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. This was supposed to be the highlight of their trip, and now it seemed like they might not even make it to the circuit in time.

As they sat there, bored and frustrated, Y/N noticed a group of guys in the car behind them. They were laughing and joking, seemingly undisturbed by the traffic. And then she noticed one of them in particular - a boy with light hair and bright blue eyes, who winked and smiled at her when he realized she was watching him.

"Who are they?" Y/N asked her friends, nodding towards the car behind them.

"I don't know," one of her friends shrugged. "But they're cute."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn't deny that the boy with the blue eyes was kind of adorable. And as the traffic continued to crawl along, she found herself stealing glances at him, wondering who he was and why he seemed so familiar.

It wasn't until they finally reached the circuit that Y/N realized who the boy was - Arthur, the younger brother of Charles Leclerc, her favorite F1 driver. Suddenly everything made sense - the blue eyes, the mischievous smile, the effortless charm.

As they were making their way through the crowds, Y/N felt someone bump into her from behind. She turned around to see Arthur standing there, a look of surprise on his face.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" he said, flashing her a smile. "I didn't mean to bump into you like that."

Y/N smiled back, feeling her heart rate pick up at the sight of him. "It's okay," she replied. "We're all a little crowded here."

As they moved forward, Y/N couldn't help but notice that Arthur was wearing a shirt with the logo of his brother's F1 team. And when he caught sight of the number on her own shirt - Charles' racing number - his eyes widened in recognition.

"Hey, I like your shirt," he said, gesturing to the number. “16 is a great number, isn't it?”

Y/N felt a flush rise to her cheeks as she realized that she had been wearing Charles' number all day without even knowing that his brothers were nearby. "Oh, wow," she said. "I'm a huge fan of his."

Arthur grinned. "Yeah, me too. He's pretty amazing, isn't he?"

Y/N nodded, feeling a sudden wave of shyness wash over her. But as they chatted more, she found herself warming up to Arthur's easy charm and infectious enthusiasm.

"So, are you into racing too?" she asked, curious about the young Leclerc's own ambitions.

Arthur's face lit up. "Yeah, actually. I'm a driver myself - I compete in F2."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? That's amazing. You must be really talented."

Arthur shrugged modestly. "I like to think so. But it's tough out there, you know? It takes a lot of hard work and dedication to make it in this sport."

Y/N nodded sympathetically, feeling a sudden kinship with the young driver.

As they walked towards the grandstands, Arthur couldn't resist making a few cheesy jokes and silly pick-up lines, trying to make Y/N laugh.

"Are you a parking ticket?" he asked with a grin. "Because you've got 'fine' written all over you."

Y/N couldn't help but roll her eyes at the corny line, but she found herself giggling anyway.

Before they knew it, was time for Arthur to go and find his brothers before the race started. As they said their goodbyes, Arthur pulled out his phone and asked for Y/N's number.

"I'll text you later, Y/N. Maybe we can grab a drink or something?" he said with a smile.

Y/N nodded eagerly, feeling a spark of excitement at the thought of seeing him again.

Arthur hurried to find his brothers, Lorenzo and Charles. As soon as he saw them, he excitedly recounted his encounter with Y/N and how they had hit it off in the queue.

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. "You're telling us about a girl you just met in line? I hope you're not neglecting your training for F2."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Of course not, but a little distraction never hurt anyone. And besides, Y/N is really cool.”

Charles chimed in, a smile on his face."Well, well, well, look who's got a crush,”nudging Arthur in the ribs.

"You should ask her out," Lorenzo suggested.

Arthur's eyes widened. "What? No way. I barely know her."

Charles snorted. "That's never stopped you before."

Arthur blushed, but nodded in agreement. "I already got her number. And I'm planning on taking her out to dinner next week."

Lorenzo smirked. "Look at you, little brother, all grown up and making moves. Just don't let it affect your racing, okay?"

Arthur laughed, feeling grateful for his brothers' support.

Later that night, as Y/N and her friends were out at a bar celebrating the end of the race, her phone buzzed with a message from Arthur.

"Hey, it's Arthur 😉 I had a great time hanging out with you today. Want to meet up tomorrow?"

Y/N's heart raced as she replied, "Sure! How about we grab lunch at that cute café we saw earlier?"

As the week in Monaco came to an end, Y/N felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of leaving Arthur behind. But as they hugged goodbye, Arthur promised to stay in touch and even invited her to come watch him race in the F2 later that year.

And as Y/N made her way back home, she couldn't help but smile at the memory of the handsome Monegasque boy who had swept her off her feet.

[twig-tea]

I'm still processing the end of Love in the Big City the series, but I wanted to jot down a few details and unfinished thoughts that are sticking with me after episodes 7 and 8 [series-only thoughts].

Putting together the timeline made me realize how many important moments in Yeong's life share or are near to the same anniversary; We know he contracts HIV in February (2014), and that Gyu-Ho leaves in February (2022), and that Yeong quits his job in February (2023).

In ep5, we see Yeong's phone where he has three missed calls from Gyu-Ho, and we can see that he's saved Gyu-Ho's name as Q~❤ [hearto], and that probably contributed to why he had hope that the mysterious Q was Gyu-Ho.

We see Yeong finish the soy sauce, and he said it was expired back when they were living together, so that means it's another year out of date. There's something in this metaphor about hanging on past when things are good and finally being able to let go.

When Gyu-Ho first looks at the elephants in the cheap Bangkok motel they were a pair on that nightstand, and he only took one of them.

The metaphor of the ceiling fan hanging over them like a threat the one time they have sex without a condom, how the trust that the fan will not fall feels similar to the trust that the PrEP pills will do their job. Thinking about the way Yeong says Kylie is his and how he wants to be sure she'll remain only his.

And how that ceiling fan ties connects with Habibi and his photos of ceiling fans, how the ceiling is the last thing he saw before he went blind for two weeks and so he takes photos of them in every hotel, how he uses it as his profile picture on hookup apps, how he is hiding from his family and the life he doesn't want by spending time with people on the verge of breaking, but holding on.

The way Gyu-Ho haunts the narrative in episodes 7 and 8 the way Kylie haunted the narrative in 5 and 6.

The perspective we got on the scenes from Yeong and Gyu-Ho's trip to Bangkok in 7&8 contrasted with the version we got in 5&6 was so well done; both versions fit together really well but cannot be fully reconciled because our memories are never perfect, and a person is not a character in a novel.

I also found myself pondering how they shot the scenes that reprise across Parts; did they have both directors on site for these moments and shoot them in the same day? The technical aspect of these is so interesting to me because of the different directors and how different these shots looked (not just in the nuances of how they were acted, but how they were coloured, framed, everything).

There's something in my head about how writing was what drove a wedge between them when they were together, what Yeong tried to use to keep them together forever on the lantern (and instead what tore up the lantern), and what he used to remember Gyu-Ho when they were apart.

Something also about how Eun Su was so much better off not being married, I was so relieved when we found out the wedding had been called off, and how the pressure to hide how he was feeling about what was happening in his life was what made him feel closer to Yeong.

I was just so relieved when the T-aras fell through that door after Yeong tried celebrating quitting his job by himself and instead fell into a depression for six days. I have had friends do a similar wellness check for me and I will never forget how loved it made me feel when I thought I was unlovable. I'm just so glad Yeong had the T-aras in his life; and their presence in this section was complicated but deeply moving. I'm still working through everything I think about how they functioned in the series, but I am so, so grateful for them, and to this series as a whole.

I absolutely loved it.

[les-gnossiennes-fantomatiques]

An Unorthodox Fic Recommendation

Hey, everyone.

So I’d been wanting to write this post for a while, but I’d had a hard time finding the words to articulate my exact feelings for a good long while now. But in the spirit of the holidays, goodwill towards all, and so on and so forth, I’ve somehow managed to catch my breath.

I dipped pretty suddenly from fandom earlier this year for multiple reasons, most of which fell under the umbrella of a very real and very unfortunate truth: I was sick. Stupid sick. And fandom, while obviously not the only thing contributing to this by a long mile, was not conducive to me getting better.

My drinking, you see, had gotten bad in a way that is honestly humbling to think about now; it was at levels that were both physically and mentally dangerous and unsustainable. Moreover, it was beginning to affect the people I love most in this world. And, unfortunately, pounding back a glass, a bottle, two bottles of wine, hey maybe I can run to the gas station for a few mini bottles of whiskey to end the night went hand-in-hand with writing and my fandom experience in general.

I won’t go into the details of my actual rock bottom, besides that it hit in March of this year and that I’m grateful it was relatively minor compared to many of the stories I’ve heard in my recovery journey. But suffice to say, I checked into rehab and everything had to go on the back burner from that point on. I’m lucky that I had the unwavering love and support of my husband, my family, my work, and my friends (including a bunch of people I’ve met through this fandom specifically--put a pin in that) to start down that path, because all the same, it has often been a very lonely, very dark, and very isolating place to be. But so is addiction.

So here I am, hours and hours of group counseling, enough EMDR therapy to relive every childhood trauma in the book, countless tweakings of my meds, endless bottles of Coke Zero later, and I’m almost ten months sober.

And I find myself asking now what?

One of the biggest challenges in early sobriety, you learn quickly, is redefining fun for yourself in a world without your substance of choice, without the very thing that feeds your ego and silences your self-criticisms, without what feels like the only thing propelling you from one bleak day to the next. And for a long time, I worried that fandom had stopped being fun. That the joy of writing had been permanently ruined by the associations I’d made with drinking and negative related experiences.

But, back to my fandom friends. I worried so much they would lose interest in me as a person--that I’d become too boring or depressing or unfun in this next leg of life to want to stick around. I’ve found the opposite to be true--from the countless yapping sessions up and down 8th Avenue and booze-free hangouts, to the endless DMs of advice and memes, to the long heart-to-hearts over pots of tea, to… watching whatever the fuck is going on in the David Staller version and having a good long laugh. I didn’t expect this coming into 2024--I don’t know what I expected, honestly, besides maybe the hospital and divorce papers and more loneliness--and leaving this year behind me knowing I’ve got that means the world to me.

So all this is to say, one of the other things that helped me pull through this challenging period of life has been, surprisingly enough, fan fiction.

Particularly Battered Dove by BattyDings.

Modern AUs are always really hard to pull off, at least to me, in a way that feels satisfying. (This is why I am a coward and don’t write them lol.) More often than not, there’s a tendency for the story to get caught up in retrofitting the more melodramatic, antiquated elements (I say this with love) into a world where they can’t really exist with a straight face, and often at the cost of the characterizations and plot. The best modern AUs, for me, lean into the framework of what is there thematically: the ideas of loneliness, manipulation, dependency (themselves all negative aspects of addiction) balanced against the possibility of redemption, love, and making amends.

And in Battered Dove, BattyDings has rather brilliantly transposed these things into the context of substance abuse and addiction. If Phantom is a story about two lonely broken people getting caught up in a shared passion that brings out the best and worst in each other (particularly Erik lol), then Battered Dove sees our dynamic duo thrown together by a mutual past in drugs and hopefully redeemed by the music they make together.

It’s often a hard and unflinching read, and one that in other hands could easily come off as crass or edgelord-y. But in Batty’s hands, Battered Dove is a thoughtful, sensitive, tender unraveling of the Erik and Christine dynamic that keeps me coming back: that is, the only way they can “get well” is by going through something that is arguably more painful and terrifying than the present reality they live in: giving up what they think they love most.

I’ve read this story multiple times over the years and was always tremendously moved by the simple but powerful interpretation laid out in this fic; in pre-contemplation, when I’d be crawling into bed drunk every night and wondering if this was how I was going to die, bits and pieces of it would come to me. Me in bed, on the verge of blacking out, thinking about Phantom of the Opera fan fiction, wondering if I could do better (nah, no, I couldn’t. Not me.) Rereading Battered Dove for the first time after starting rehab and getting well into this journey was all the more astounding.

Phantom of the Opera, for me, is not the story of a monster who brutalizes women and we’re somehow supposed to feel bad or glean some larger, cynical message about the world from it; for me, it is a story of bittersweet hope--a slow, sad hope that the ones we love and that the ones we’ve hurt will feel peace and sunshine, without the guaranteed promise or reward we will feel it for ourselves. But that, in our selfless kindnesses born out of real love and care for others, we can at least begin to see a better version of ourselves staring back at us--no matter how broken, how lonely, how downright used and ugly we feel.

To me, that is recovery. That is what the last ten months have been. There is no guarantee who I will be in a year--what wrongs I will right, what truths I will uncover, or even if I'll have managed to maintained my sobriety (though I feel hopeful). I am promised nothing but the day in front of me and the little, powerful joy I get in doing right by the universe with each passing hour.

And Battered Dove captures that perfectly. Can’t recommend that enough.

Thank you for being a friend and source of light through this hard time, @battydings. Pls accept this humble doodle and biggest thank you for writing such a wonderful, heartfelt story.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for making a YouTuber feel uncomfortable? 

Here me out please, before you all make assumptions. 

A couple months ago, I(19F) began following a YouTuber that I quickly began to love. I won’t be saying the YouTuber’s name for the sake of protecting their privacy, obviously. I started to watch their videos(which were mainly about a story that she came up with, featuring her ocs) and enjoyed them all, enjoyed the ocs, too. This YouTuber is a relatively unpopular one, but not so unpopular that they’re obscure or completely unheard of, they’re just not one of the big names in the YouTuber community. I made a few amazing friends due to us being in the same fandom and both enjoying this YouTuber’s content. One day, I decided to write a fanfic for this person’s story featuring her ocs. I uploaded the fic to AO3 and made sure to credit the YouTuber with creating these amazing ocs. I then showed it to my few friends, who all loved the fanfic. However, one day I made the mistake of showing the fic to a mutual friend(now an ex-friend but that’s a topic for another discussion) that me and the YT both share, and she sent the fanfic to the YT without my permission. Now before y’all get up in arms, I didn’t mind at all that she had sent it to the YT, in fact, I actually wanted the YT to see. However I really wish that she had asked me first, because I would have been more than happy to show it to them! Unfortunately, a few days after I sent it to her, my other friend(let’s call her M) showed me an announcement the YT made on her Discord, in which she complained about people writing fanfictions of her ocs and “using” them in her stories without her permission. She also stated that she felt like she was losing control of her story when other people wrote fanfics of it, and that whoever wrote the fanfiction “didn’t understand boundaries”(even though she didn’t have this boundary before and also wrote in the announcement that she used to be okay with fanfics of her work, but now no longer is). I deleted the fanfic the moment I saw the post from my friend, but I was a bit disappointed since I never meant to make her feel uncomfortable and only wanted to show my love and appreciation for her story, and possibly get more people to check out her story as well. Still, I deleted the fanfic from AO3. 

Now, here’s where things get interesting. A while later, I joined the YouTuber’s Discord server, where I met many people that I got along quite well with and quickly befriended. I often engaged in conversations with them about the story, and often drew fanart of my favorite character and posted it to the art channel in the server(she’s okay with fanart of her ocs, just not fanfics). Now is probably a good time to mention that while I was in the Discord server(and even before that) I often talked about the story with my friend on Tumblr(not M, these are two separate friends) who did not have Discord but loved the story just as much as I did. We often talked about the story and how much we enjoyed it, and often came up with jokes and headcanons, basic stuff like that, that any fan would do. Anyway, back to the Discord, one of the rules of the server was not to be disrespectful or rude or malicious towards other people, and another was that if you received two warnings about your behavior in the server then you would be quickly banned from the server and no longer allowed to come back. I understood this and tried to conduct myself to the best of my ability. However, one day, I found myself mysteriously unable to access the server, and when I tried to rejoin, I was again unable to. I found out that the reason I couldn’t access the server was because I had been banned due to “disrespectful behavior”, “engaging in arguments”, and making the YouTuber(who ran the server) uncomfortable. I was confused, because I genuinely don’t remember ever engaging in rude behavior with anyone. The few instances(according to them) in which I had been allegedly rude or disrespectful to people were both genuine misunderstandings, and both times I had apologized for them and did not repeat the behavior. I also did not receive any form of warning before being banned, despite one of the rules being that you will receive two warnings before being banned from the server. Still, I apologized for my alleged hostility and asked if I could come back, however the YouTuber said no, and went on to add that not only was I rude to people in the server(which, again, were both genuine misunderstandings), but that she had seen my Tumblr conversations with my friends in which I talked about her story, and said that she was “wildly uncomfortable” with how “obsessive” I was with it as well as my favorite character in the story. This bewildered me to no end because the YouTuber did not have Tumblr and had never once ever mentioned being on or having access to Tumblr, so I did not expect her to see my posts(and even if she did, I did not expect to get banned for them as they do not violate the rules of the server). It made me wonder why she didn’t just talk to me and explain to me that she was uncomfortable with me posting about her work instead of just banning me altogether and not giving me a chance to defend myself. I ended up sadly and reluctantly deleting all of my posts relating to her story, and requesting my friend to do the same. I told M about this scenario, and she was enraged on my behalf, saying that the YouTuber probably was actually upset about my having written a fanfic for her ocs, and said that she didn’t understand me being called obsessive because I acted like a normal fan would(which I agree with). Some of my other friends have sided with me as well and told me that the YouTuber was acting petty, however some of my friends have taken a middle ground. None of them entirely condemned me, but that may just be because they are biased and don’t want to hurt my feelings. The mutual friend/now ex-friend(of course) merely told me to “self-reflect” and move on from the story. Regardless, the YouTuber now has me blocked, not just on Discord, but on Instagram as well, where I also reside. 

Reasons why I think I might be the asshole: I will admit that I have a tendency to really hyperfixate on things and get especially attached to fictional characters that I adore and resonate with, so I can see why that would make them uncomfortable. That being said… 

Reasons why I think I might not be the asshole: I genuinely wasn’t trying to make this wonderful YouTuber feel uncomfortable or be “obsessive” with the story. I merely wanted to show my appreciation for it in a way that I thought was normal for online fans, which included writing a fanfic, drawing fanart, and geeking out about the story with my friends(admittedly publicly). I had no idea that these actions would turn the YouTuber off, and merely wanted to show how much I enjoyed the story. I also was never rude to anyone in the server and apologized whenever a misunderstanding rose up. I never tried to be aggressive with anyone or cursed anybody out or tried to have arguments with people, so I have no idea where that came from. 

So, what say ye, oh wise people of Tumblr? Am I the asshole or not?

What are these acronyms?

[askinkiskarma]

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ ɪɪ - ᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ

pairing: Neteyam x human!reader (part of Cruel Summer)

➽ a/n: omg the first new work for kinktober! so a bit of background, in my cruel summer sequel, the 1, i wrote this one memory in which i mention neteyam once woke vol up by giving her head, and it's been stuck in my head ever since so when i saw the eating out prompt, i knew it had to be about these two bc i love them so much and i love making myself sad by writing their love story. anyway i hope you enjoy ilysm smooches oxxoxoxoo

➽ words: 1,3k

➽ warnings: it goes without saying, but all of these works (kinktober-related) are smut and therefore minors should NOT interact with them. other warnings include: somnophilia, touch of praise kink, dirty talk, oral - female receiving.

➽ taglist (x) ➽ kinktober masterlist (x)

In the few months since your birthday, since that first time, Neteyam has looked for every excuse to be close to you, to feel you, your body, your touch, your breath as it fans over his face, your little cunt as it wrapped around his cock in the way that drove him crazy, that made him feel like he was forever ruined for any other girl, for the rest of time. It didn’t help that he loved you, that he felt like every star in the sky was dull and boring in comparison to the freckles on your face, like the moons rose and set from your eyes, like your smile was the lighthouse that forever guided his heart to where he belonged, to where the rest of his life would revolve around. Today, he was so excited to see you, to talk to you, to be your teacher in the art and skill it took to be a Na’vi. His mum might not be happy about it, but she didn’t know you, she didn’t understand. So excited, he was, in fact, you were not awake, not even close, by the time he opened the door to your room that was so cold, it was sending shivers down his spine - not as many or as powerful, though, as the sight of you, bare thighs and glistening folds visible as you were laying on your front, one leg spread over your duvet. Fuck. 

With a loud gulp and a newfound uncomfortable tightness in his loincloth, Neteyam found himself slowly approaching you, careful not to wake you. If he had to disturb your peaceful slumber for a day full of training and putting up with him, he figured he might as well make it worth your while. There were very few things in the world Neteyam loved more than eating you out - seeing you come undone around him, getting to taste you over and over like a parched man in the desert, feeling your hand tighten in his hair, desperately pushing him closer to your needy cunt until he was buried in you, in your warmth, covered in your slick, lapping at your cum until you were squirming under him, crying from overstimulation. 

Climbing quietly on top of you, he thanked his lucky star and his Na’vi training for the ability to be as stealthy as he was, and, lowering himself until his mouth was next to your ear, and two fingers gathering your abundant slick running down your body and onto your bedsheets, he spoke:

“Look how wet you are for me. Fuck. I love you, Vol. I love you so much, and I know I’m never going to be able to say it to you, not without ruining us, but I can show you. I can show you. Every time your eyes roll in the back of your head, every scratch of your fingers on my back, every time you scream my name in the dead of night as you let me explore your body and your limits, know that this is me, loving you, confessing to you, in the best way I know how.” 

He was happy when you didn’t wake up, but stirred minutely in your sleep, whispering half-attempts at his name that made his heart flutter in his chest and fill the room with momentary saccadic music that was previously heavy with the otherwise comfortable silence. His large hands were trailing down your body in whispered touches until they came to rest comfortably on your plush, plump ass. He couldn’t help the way his tongue traced every inch of your thighs, taking his sweet time, enjoying every moment he heard you whimper in your sleep, until he reached what he’s been craving, what he’s been dreaming about since the moment he’s called you his that fateful birthday. The way he licked your pussy from your clit to your ass was hungry, perverted even. He needed this, and so, as he always did, he dedicated everything he had to eating you out, groaning into your core as his tongue was circling your needy bud, swollen and pulsating with the sensation overload. 

A beautiful, glorious, nefarious dream was nothing new recently, your mind desperately trying to cling onto every bit of Neteyam as you could, unable to let him go even in your sleep. It was still new, this friends-with-benefits endeavour you had going on, and as such, you didn’t want to overwhelm him with the desire you felt taking over you every second you were in his presence. Your dreams, though... your dreams compensated for it, and doing a good job at it as such, his beautiful golden eyes peaking up from underneath his lashes, locked onto your own as his face was buried in you, tongue lapping viciously at your folds. You knew you should be quiet, but you couldn’t help the whines and moans of pleasure that only he would ever be able to coax out of you. It wasn’t long before moans turned to cries as the dream slowly slipped from your grasp, and the thought of letting go of it hurt you more than you were able to comprehend. It was strange when the confines of the fantasy collapsed but the pleasure bubbling in your core didn’t, and you let out a quiet, huffed gasp as soon as your eyes opened and you were met with the same image as the one you had just left behind. 

“T-teyam?” He didn’t stop his ministrations, not for anything in the world, but the low chuckle he let out was felt deep within you, and you moaned, the feeling too overwhelming to be repressed. He was so skilled, so good at the way he used his tongue, at the way his two large fingers were scissoring you open, pushing buttons you didn’t even know existed before him. 

“You make me crazy, Vol. You’re driving me fucking crazy.” 

“Shit, a-agh, please.”

“What do you need, Vol? Tell me what you need.” 

You didn’t need to tell him, not when he was doing it, not when he was licking and sucking your clit in a way that made you see stars, not when the sensations were reaching a dangerous high, that you knew you would reach an unbearable zenith, not when his fingers were rhythmically caressing your G-spot and your orgasm was drawing oh, so near and you knew it would tear you apart when it washed over you. 

“What happened, Vol? Palulukan got your tongue?” 

“Don’t stop, please! Fuck.” 

“Look at me. Keep your eyes on me, Vol. I need to see your eyes when I make you cum.” 

If someone told you there was the elixir of life in between your thighs and Neteyam wanted to live forever, you’d believe them. And so you watched as he finished you off, desire and hunger swirling in his beautiful golden orbs, struggling to keep your eyes on him when all you wanted was to bury your head in between the pillows as you rode out your orgasm, that crashed and burned, but healed you instead of tearing you apart. There was beauty in being with Neteyam, the man you’ve known all your life, the man who knew you best, the man you secretly loved. There were rules to this, your fateful friendship with benefits, rules you both ought to respect and rely on if this wasn’t going to end in heartbreak, and yet, as he looked at you from beneath his eyelashes, chin and mouth covered in your cum and slick, a soft smile on his face, he almost looked like… he felt the same way. 

“Teyam…”

“I’m never not waking you up like this, ever again.” 

You laughed, finally able to prop your head on your pillows and allow your breath to settle in your lungs. 

“If you want me to come training with you in the woods, you’d better.” 

taglist: taglist: @pandoraslxna @sulieykte @blue-slxt @eywaeveng @neteyamsikran @elenamoncada-ibarra @spicymayyo @itsjazzsworld @daddysmurfslefttoenail @eyrina-avatar @iameatingmyhair @neteyamyawne @eywevengl

[obsidianbaby]

Don't Love Me Like A Brother - Prologue

Brothers Best Friend Series - PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1 -

series synopsis - ronnie's younger brother, tyler, is a famous youtuber & influencer and is best friends with the sturniolos. This series will be following ronnie's life as she befriends the triplets and catches herself developing feelings for a certain someone...

**series will contain smut as it develops but warnings will be added to those specific chapters

**found myself writing a few flashback chapters before present day just to build up the established friendships bc I'm impatient and don't want the slow burn to drain anyone 😭

warnings/notes - no smut in this as it's just the prologue to introduce y'all to the story.

a/n - starting this series and im very exciteddddddd i hope y'all fuck with a slow burn, friends to lovers best friends brother type beat. Buckle up mfs it's gonna be an angsty ride

a/n pt 2 - im not gonna share who ronnie develops feelings for just yet I want y'all to be on edge okok enjoy MWAH xx

__________________________________

PROLOGUE

ronnies pov

having a brother who's famous on social media is humbling to say the least.

The amount of fan girls who have followed my accounts just because they're obsessed with him makes me question many people's sanity (including my own).

But tyler is one of my best friends. And thank god for my dad, who from the jump, did not tolerate any misogynistic bullshit from my brother.

Raising two kids as a single dad after my mom passed away (before ty and I were older than the age of 5) was tough for him and he embraced the times when he needed support (like when i first got my period, bless his heart he bought almost every type of menstrual product off the shelf).

His values were the perfect structure for us to grow up following; respect, open communication, giving our best efforts to everything (even if the only effort we could offer up was a 60% instead of a 100%)

My childhood friends would always whine about how "chill" my dad was. And it's not cause he didn't care, (he probably cares too much) but he didn't want to shield us either, knowing we need to learn how to exist in the world without him constantly up our asses.

"As long as we can talk about shit at the end of the day then we're good" one of his favorite mantras he would spew to me and ty when we would get caught doing something you might call a "right of passage" as a teenager.

And since it was just the three of us, we've always leaned on each other a lot. Sunday family dinners at nans' every week, taking turns helping my dad at his shop after school (he's a car mechanic), movie nights every thursday night where my dad would close up shop early, setting up the projector in the shop garage and ordering us pizza. My brother has been a best friend to me since I held him in my arms at the age of 3 when he was born.

And of course, we have the usual chaotic fights to the death like most siblings do, him pranking me in the most annoying ways, me making fun of his dumbass, him eating all of my food, me stealing his cool clothes, him begging me to uber him around everywhere, etc.

But we also just really enjoy each other's company too; going on late night walks around town, sitting in bed staying up talking all night, playing mario cart for hours (id always kick his ass), going adventuring together to forests or beaches, hanging out at the skate park together (me laughing at him eating shit and him chasing me around trying to whack me with his board), us both ditching our friends to stay at home and yap to each other instead, us having campfires in the backyard with both of our friend groups together, working on restoring mom's 1967 ford mustang together that she left us when she passed.

So when he came to me a few years back, during the pandemic, asking my thoughts on him posting on youtube, I was in full support (after teasing him that no one would find him, an 18 year old lanky white boy about to graduate high school funny or interesting. I have to keep him humble ya know?)

But his first few videos on youtube went viral and his following kept growing daily, especially when he started posting on tiktok too.

He's had me (and even my dad) featured in his videos which i don't mind at all (since im the one that's editing them)

I can see why the internet loves him (i did help raise him of course).

But since he's hit over 3 million on youtube last year, he's been doing a shit ton of collabs with other influencers and youtubers; the sturniolo triplets, larray, emma chamberlain, jake webster, tarayummy, vinnie hacker, carrington, etc.

And these days I try to stay behind the scenes as much as possible, trying to enjoy my solitude away from the opinions of crazy fans. (why do they care so much about what im doing anyways?)

Yet he understands (thank god) and he's always inviting me to come hangout with the friends he's made through social media, and i can't lie and say i don't enjoy being in the company of such dope (and attractive) people.

END OF PROLOGUE

______________________________________________

a/n - hellooooo i have a few more parts already written for this but im gonna wait to see how this post goes first (because i have a dire need for validation and praise) anywaysssss thank you for reading mwah xx

[byechristopher]

WE'RE ALONE.

– Chris Sturniolo angst/fluff.

depressed-stoner!chris x f!reader

Author's note: there's a playlist I have on spotify (literally my childhood) that 100% inspired me to write this – hits too close to home, pft. So here, Chris smoking w33d. Do not copy/steal my work. :) didn't proof read.

Warnings: w33d obviously, mentions of alcohol and depression. Sad, messy love. Also, super long – don't know what else, tbh. This is JUST a fan-fiction.

Playlist:

Time was passing by and the voices from inside the living room wouldn't stop – I can hear them getting louder and louder. I bring my knees close to my chest, hugging myself and I turn the volume of my speakers up.

It's always like this; they get loud and then they pretend this never happened, like I never heard what they said to each other. Or how they talked about this family, this house. It was exhausting for me, to say the least.

A few hours later, with the loud music still filling the dark room, I decided it was maybe time to sleep. This would all end faster that way. But when I was about to do that, I saw.. something out the window? I know I did. There it is again... hold on – a shoe? I get up, a little scared, and look outside. I knew it. I open the window.

"Chris, what the fuck.." I yelled and I saw Chris picking up his shoe, jumping around for a few seconds before wearing it again.

Oh, Chris. We've been close friends for so long. As long as I can remember – my childhood is filled with memories of him. I've always been so thankful. He has always been the safe place that I desperately needed but never really knew I wanted. He would always be there whenever I needed him and if course, I did the same thing for him. He was worth it anyways.

"Come on!" he yells, not caring if my parents heard him.

"Really, Chris? Your shoe?" I place my elbows on the windowsill, laughing a little bit.

"I couldn't find any rocks. Now shut up, and jump!" he grins and I roll my eyes.

I turn the volume down, not all the way down, enough to not let my parents hear what is going on in here, but also without disturbing their sleep. I quickly wear a big, black hoodie, I put on my lace up boots and after grabbing my phone, wallet and cigarettes, I walk towards the windowsill – I've been sneaking out my room ever since I was little, I cannot believe I'm still doing it in my twenties. But who cares.

I place my foot on the windowsill, grabbing a branch of the tree that is right outside my room (thank God), and I climb up that tree till it's safe enough for me to jump – Chris catches me and we fall down, like every other time. We laugh.

"Hi." he says, it's simple, but it makes me smile.

"Hi. I didn't know you were here – I thought you were coming back next Tuesday." I say and I keep walking next to him; we know exactly where we're going.

"I was supposed to, yeah. But I didn't like it there, so I left. Plus, you are here." he has a little smile on his face and only now do I notice the paper bag in his hand, "beers." he says before I get to say anything. I nod, smiling.

We keep on walking and about ten minutes later, we finally reach our destination. There is an old, abandoned school that we found out about a few years ago. I still remember that day – I was so scared, especially when I saw these old stairs that were leading up to a big, rusty door. When Chris opened the door, though, we found out that there was a flat roof behind that door, old school chairs then and there. I smoked my first cigarette here. Also, my first blunt. Hah.

The chairs are still placed right in front of the parapet wall that's built along the edge of the flat roof. So we sit down – Chris is already rolling a blunt and I open two cans of beer, handing him his.

"Now. Tell me, what's wrong?" I break the silence abruptly. He doesn't look at me.

He doesn't need to tell me anything, I always know when he's not feeling well. And I know he wants to see me too, but that's not the exact reason he is here.

"Fought with my brothers." he murmurs and licks the wrap to seal the blunt while looking at me.

"Yeah, no shit. Why?" I watch him as I take a sip of my beer.

"Just bullshit. It doesn't matter. They know I'm here with you anyway." he mutters. His hair is a little messy and his hoodie is also too big for him, as usual, "what's wrong with you anyway?"

"The usual." I sigh and place my feet on the parapet wall, the can of beer in between my thighs, making my bare legs cold and making goosebumps rise on it – not the wisest choice to keep these shorts on.

We talk and talk and talk, for hours. We're both high, drinking beer and a mini bottle of vodka that was hidden in his big hoodie, we both had our legs hanging from that low wall and laughing like idiots.

He grabs the back of my head and brings me closer to him, his breath fanning over my lips, "missed this." he whispers and places his lips on mine. I groan in his mouth and start moving my lips against his, my tongue licking his bottom lip. He lets my tongue enter his mouth and I get up quickly to straddle his thighs, sitting on his lap so that I can be more comfortable, without breaking the kiss, of course.

His hands sneak under my hoodie and his cold fingers travel up my back, my hands are buried in his hair, tugging at it gently. The kiss is slow but hungry and I find myself getting lost in it. Then, it hits me. I part our lips and I place my forehead against his, my hands are placed against his chest, "I can't." I murmur.

I can still remember the last time this happened. And the previous time. And the time before that. Blah blah blah. But last time I said it was the last time, because I cried myself to sleep that night. Whenever we get high and we drink, we sometimes make out. Just sometimes. He's always the first one to make the move because I'm too scared. I told myself it wasn't that deep the first time it happened, but I was secretly craving the next time it would. When we didn't make out, I would go home disappointed. Crying, sometimes. I didn't know if I was subconsciously falling in love (or already in love) with Chris or just really deprived of affection, but I was more and more hurt each time it happened.

"What is it?" he whispers and grabs the nape of my neck with both hands, pulling me close to place a soft kiss on my forehead.

"Why.. do we do this, Chris?" I whisper, I'm sacred to even ask the question, but I have to. For my sanity.

"I thought you wanted it." he stiffens a bit, pulling away a little bit.

"I do. And so do you. But why do we want it?" I search for his eyes but he averts his gaze from me every time I try to.

"What kind of question is that.. we're high and we make out. It's not a big deal." he says and I know I will cry myself to sleep again tonight.

"It might not be. For you." I sigh and he tries to sit up, indirectly telling me to get off of him but I don't. He's uncomfortable. So am I. But we have to do this.

"You're fucking high and you're drunk. You don't know what you're saying." he shakes his head and looks away. He knows I know exactly what I'm saying and that's what pains me the most.

"I might be in love with you." I say and the silence gets louder than my goddamn parents earlier.

"I love you too, what does that have to do with anything.." he says, completely dodging what I just said to him.

"Chris. I'm fucking serious. I think I'm in love with you." I whisper and I cup his cheeks.

"Don't do this to me. I can't deal with this." he whispers back, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Do you love me like this, too?" I ask the question I dread the most.

"We can't do this. This just won't work. We're a fucking mess. How will we ever be good for each other? Can't you see it?" he says and my eyes fill with tears; I don't know what to say, because deep down I agree with him, "don't do this to me." he continues and I know he's talking about the tears in my eyes.

He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me as close as possible, kissing my cheeks to catch the tears that escape my eyes, "I just.. you know I can't. Can't do this again."

"Chris.. seriously? We were kids!" I open my eyes just to look at him.

I know I hurt him when we were younger. But that was years ago, he can't keep blaming me for it.

"Yes, fucking seriously. I carried that around for a long time. You knew I was in love with you. You were the only one I wanted to be with." he glares at me and I sigh.

"I've apologised a million times, Chris."

He wasn't wrong. I remember how hurt he was back then – I knew he was in love with me when we were young and took advantage of the affection he was giving me, even though I didn't want him. I didn't feel the same way he did. Or at least, I didn't know I did. So I cut him off out of the blue and told him I would never want him this way. To make sure he knew I never would, I kissed his best friend. I don't know why – I think I wanted to prove that I really didn't like him. Now that I think about it, I wanted to prove myself more than him.

"You apologised and I forgave you. But you can't come here and tell me you think you are in love with me. What does "think" mean?"

"I don't know, Chris! It's.. overwhelming." I groan and I get off his lap, walking towards the door. I don't want to leave. But I don't know what to do, "you hurt me too, Chris. Ever since we kissed for the first time, I haven't been able to do it with anyone else. Hell, every time I tried to even talk to another guy, I could only think of you." I yell.

"Well. We can't be together. That's all I know." he clears his throat and grabs a cigarette.

"That's all you have to say?" I turn around to look at him as he smokes.

Silence.

"That's all I have to say." he mumbles. He gets up. He leaves. I stand there. I grab my stuff and I leave, too. That's what I get for wanting to be with an emotionally unavailable guy, who I know will probably hurt, as much as I will probably hurt him. We're both messed up. Broken childhood with broken hearts.

I walk towards my house crying but I don't want to go home. It's almost 5 in the morning, it's cold and it's dark. I should be in his fucking arms now, not walking around with nowhere to go.

At 05:20, my phone rings. Chris. He is crying and my heart shatters.

"I am afraid I will hurt you more than you already are." he says and I cry, "I'm afraid that one day, my problems will make me unavailable for you and I can't imagine not being able to be there for you. Ever." he sniffles.

"I'm scared too, Chris.. but.. I want to be selfish this time. I want to be with you. I don't wanna think about my parents, I don't wanna think about your friends, I don't wanna think about anyone other than you. I know I am in love with you." I sit down on the pavement and I try to make him hear me as much as I can through the tears.

"Fucking hell. I am in love with you. Where are you? I'm coming."

I tell him and in less than two minutes I see him running towards me. I can see his red eyes and his wet cheeks. He sees me and immediately gets on his knees to be on my level, cups my tear-stained cheeks and kisses me with so much love that I can feel my heart beating normally again.

"You came quickly."

"I always come for you. I go wherever you go." he whispers in between kisses and we fall backwards – I'm on my back and he's kissing me again and again.

"Then never leave me."

"Never."

[argylemnwrites]

Anyone Still Here?

So... it's been a while. I had a baby. I traveled with her internationally for a wedding. She turned one. I built a house and moved into it. I had a dental emergency a few days before my closing. Everything in the new house is now toddler proofed... until she thinks of a new way to get into a dangerous situation. I think that many life events safely defines my hiatus as "extended."

The Choices fandom is, I'm guessing, dying. I've not been on Tumblr or even the Choices subreddit with any regularity in over a year at this point, so I don't know this as a fact, but I have my suspicions. The mass culling of PB staff, the acquisition of PB by an AI company, former talent from PB starting a competing app would tend to indicate trouble on its own.

But a dying fandom is one that is more worth coming back to, though. I firmly believe that. When the original content is floundering, when fan engagement is dropping, that is the time that fan works matter the most. So, knowing that my readership is likely going to be non-existent and that my series have probably been written off as dead for quite some time, I'm looking to come back.

I've been "writing" in my mind on my commute again lately. Found myself missing engaging with these characters. Most of all, I want to finish my current WIPs. I don't know if literally anyone who was reading them before is still around. But if anyone is, I want to know if you have preferences about how I go about tackling finishing up my two unfinished TRR canon divergent series - Why Are We Still Waiting? and Fight or Flight. (And yes, I still remember how they both end, hahaha)

Not sure there are enough people to warrant true polls, so just going to post this here:

Do you prefer that I alternate between my two ongoing series, or is tackling one first, then moving on to the other preferable? If the latter, any preference on which series I start with?

Do you prefer I post as I have a chapter done without any regular schedule, or would waiting longer for me to finish the series so I am able to guarantee posting dates be better?

Would links to AO3 be acceptable if I find myself getting annoyed with Tumblr formatting, or will you only read on Tumblr itself?

If you have opinions, I want to hear them. If you've left the fandom, I hope life is treating you kindly and don't worry, I'll be posting a tag list clean up post before I start posting any writing again so you won't get spammed. If you've straight up forgotten who I am, no worries. It's been ages. Trying to find my most recent tag list is a joke at this point. I think this is my "up to date" version for my TTR stuff at least, but sorry in advance if you either should or shouldn't be included and weren't/were respectively.

Perma: @forallthatitsworth @mom2000aggie @kingliam2019 @lovingchoices14

TRR/TRH: @motorcitymademadame @iplaydrake @princessleac1 @twinkleallnight @marshmallowsandfire

@axwalker @sirbeepsalot @iaminlovewithtrr @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @hedgehogs-dilemmas

Drake x MC: @rubiwalker @walkerdrakewalker @petiteboheme @mskaneko

ICWAM: @sunnyxdazed

FoF: @burnsoslow @monstercyclops

[choicesficwriterscreations]

June Creator of the Month: Thosehallowedhalls

Please welcome this month’s Creator of the Month is @thosehallowedhalls.

Each month, CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers or artists. The writer or artist is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page. Past COTM's can be found here.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog Masterlist

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

I can't remember exactly. 2021, I think? Laws of Attraction was on its tenth chapter.

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined in January of this year. I was upset with Crimes of Passion 2, so I wrote a couple of stories about it. I had deactivated my old Tumblr long ago, so I had to open a new one.

3- How did you pick your blog name?

I love old buildings - the history, the ambiance. I tried hallowedhalls, but it was taken, so I added the article.

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!

I… have zero recollection of this post. But I'm big on nostalgia and mourning past times, so the fact that this was my first post tracks.

5- Do you write fanfiction, create fan art, or are you one of those really gifted people who do both?

I write fanfiction. I've been teaching myself to draw, but I'm not anywhere near close to sharing what I do.

6- How long have you been creating for Choices and for any other fandoms?

I started writing fanfiction way back in… 2010? For about four or five years. Then I stopped until December 2023.

7- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to create for?

Crimes of Passion on both counts.

8- Share your first Choices fanfic or fan art that you posted with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were creating it today?

That would be The 2 AM Christmas Tree Farm, inspired by The Midnight Library by Matt Haig. I do still like it, but I would tighten up the writing a bit. I had barely written any fiction for several years at that point, and the lack of practice shows.

9- What is your favorite piece of fiction or art that you created?

I keep going back and forth between The 2 AM Christmas Tree Farm and Home Without. Both are angsty short series.

10- Do you have a fic/art that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to do well but found it could use a little more love?

I was taken aback by the comments on The 2 AM Christmas Tree Farm. I'd posted it on AO3 a few weeks before, and had gotten a handful of kudos and one comment, but within 24 hours of posting it here, I had several lovely reblogs. It was a welcome surprise. Stories with fewer comments… I guess Home Without. The first chapter got quite a bit of love, but by the time the final chapter rolled around, fewer people were interacting.

11- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

I love a balance, but I'd say angst with a happy ending. I enjoy the breadth of emotions angst lets you explore.

12 - Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

There are bits and pieces of me in all of them. Emma has my sarcasm, and Raine has my need to look for the best in people. There may be more, but if so, it wasn't done intentionally.

13 - What element of writing/art do you struggle with most?

Perfectionism. Like I said before, the lack of writing practice shows. I know that the only way to get better is to keep writing, but I hate seeing the gap between what I do and what I want to do. Catch-22.

14 - Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

My Sebastyan x Emma fic, Of Cloudless Climes and Starry Skies. There are only a couple of chapters left, but I've been struggling with it for a couple of months now.

15 - If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to see your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you show them first?

Oh, hell no.

16 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing or art? Are there any artists that influence you?

So many writers have influenced my writing throughout the years, including authors I do not currently read. The Brontë sisters, Charles Dickens, Nora Roberts, Jane Austen, Courtney Milan, Alyssa Cole… I could go on and on. Fanfic writers… There are a lot, but off the top of my head, @inlocusmads, @coffeewithcutcaffeine, @gaiuskamilah, @aria-ashryver, @jerzwriter, @dutifullynuttywitch, @aces-and-angels, @petalouda85, and @storyofmychoices. I know there are more.

17- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series?

Home Without. I'm a sucker for good pining, and I'd love to see all that mutual longing play out onscreen - not to mention that reunion.

18- Do you write original fiction or create non-fandom art?

I do. I'm currently working on a horror short story, a MG novel, and a dual timeline mystery that's still in the research stages.

19- What other hobbies do you have?

Reading, non-fandom writing, drawing, learning new things (especially languages!), going on walks, and drinking enough coffee to alarm medical professionals anywhere.

[diamondcitydarlin]

I don't think I'm going to say anything here that hasn't been said better a million times by other fans, but I feel as someone who has been a fan and supporter of his for an upwards of 20+ years now (so like, most of my fucking life) I need to. As a victim of SA myself, I need to. As someone who frequently sang his praises, reblogged his snarky commentary, spoke with him a few times, never thought a bad thing about him before now, and otherwise lauded him a 'safe person' (without good reason, I now realize) I need to. Staying silent indefinitely just doesn't feel acceptable.

(Under the read more is stuff that might be triggering, but is largely personal)

I took my time because for a long while after this broke I had to deal with my own feelings of grief. I know for some that sounds weird, but learning that someone you thought was a good person is in fact not a good person and was very likely just always putting that 'good person' mask on for show, finally seeing the truth of them does feel like a death- the death of the person you thought they were, the death of a person you came to like and respect that never existed in the first place. There was a divorce of identities I had to make there in my mind. I think that's the denial phase, right? Except I never wanted to deny the victims' stories, as much as I didn't want to believe any of it was true.

Of course, what else is true is that I never really knew him. Most of us didn't (even some who were actual close friends with him apparently). We accepted the personality he presented to us as a genuine person who laid all his cards on the table, assuming that this meant there couldn't be darker sides to him that he was carefully hiding so as to ensnare more victims. It seemed unthinkable. Until it wasn't. Until it was exposed to those of us who didn't already know about the underground whisper campaign of his predatory behavior and so much of what he did and said in the past years now seem unavoidably creepy. But they didn't back then. How could they? (Here's one- He has a 'bathtime' tag on his blog that he apparently used to get fans to take pictures of themselves reading his books while taking baths. Most of the 'bathtime' fan pictures he reblogged were of young women in close to NSFW/spicy bath positions with his books. This was around 2012 and it's blowing my mind that I didn't see the creepiness of that then)

This is about the time in my thoughts that I've started pivoting towards my own personal responsibility in the situation, as I have before when I've found myself in an unfair or victim position. Not to overly blame or be critical of myself for not knowing things I genuinely had no idea about until they became public, not to blame myself for being lied to as millions of fans were by a bad person, and definitely not to blame others for what happened, but rather to regain some kind of control in the future over a situation that feels very much out of my control (and ofc it is, on the whole).

While famous people being 'cancelled'/revealed as monsters using their platform to reel in victims is nothing new, I still allowed myself to be charmed and carried away by the persona Gaiman put forth publicly, allowed myself to think that THIS time it'd be different, not all famous men, etc, to the point that despite this being a clear pattern of behavior for a number of people in positions of power/wealth, I still allowed myself to believe and wholeheartedly accept that it could never be him.

Well, as far as I'm concerned, that's done with. While I will still have famous creators/actors/artists etc that I will go on 'liking', I have to remember from here on out that I don't REALLY know them, no matter how genuine or down to earth or open they seem, I do not know them or what they might be capable of (or have already done) and I cannot let myself fall into a feeling of personal trust with someone I don't fucking know just because I like their work and because they might SEEM like a decent person. It was never my conscious intention to put Neil or anyone else on a pedestal or think of them as gods or something, but even in assuming that everything he did and said publicly was genuine, I ended up putting him there anyway and it blinded me to who he really was, the signs of which were there from the fucking start, now looking back. I can't again let my unwillingness to face red flags keep me from fucking seeing them.

And, unfortunately, from now on I am going to be hyper-suspicious of famous people that ingratiate themselves into fandom spaces as though they're part of the group. As fun as it was to believe a creator could coexist alongside us without nefarious intentions, that was clearly just a fantasy. I'm not saying it would always be that way, or that anyone who interacts with their fans is a positive way is trying to prey on them, but the level to which Neil interacted with his fans and the fandoms therein should be regarded with a bit more suspicion in the future, I feel. We have to ask ourselves why a creator would be SO immersed, what are they hoping to gain, particularly if most of their fans are young and impressionable? Sure, their intentions could be pure, but there are a lot of predatory reasons for a much-loved creator with huge swaths of fans to try to ingratiate himself in their spaces and that's worth considering in future when someone is trying to be Mr. Popularity- I'm not naive enough, especially not now, to think that it won't happen again with someone else.

Anyway, this is all, the last thing I'm going to (try) to say about him and my feelings on this issue, because as a fan that wasn't directly preyed on by him but is feeling a sense of grief for personal reasons, my voice isn't nearly as important as those of people who were direct victims of his predation. Those are the ones we should be listening to and amplifying, especially as it seems likely even more women will come forward in their future.

I'm furious and disgusted and so so sad for all the women that were made to suffer from his manipulation. I'm sorry no one was willing to listen to them until now.

[honeys-hotties]

Just Business (Mapi Leon x fem!Reader)

Got a fabulous request about a businesswoman reader who is accused of being a golddigger by the team, and I juts kind of ran with it! Fyi the team are pretty mean in the beginning, especially Ingrid, but don't come at me please! I love Ingrid, she's amazingly talented! Anyways, I was so stressed and had a little bit of a writer's block but these requests have been so incredibly helpful, so keep 'em coming! Love you all endlessly<3

Word count; 3.5k

“Five more minutes” I groan into Mapi’s shoulder. She chuckles into my hair, her grip on my waist loosening as she reaches to turn off her alarm. “Sorry mi amor, I have to get ready extra early for the match today, Alexia is stressed and I promised I would do some extra warmups with her today, plus she wants me to come over and watch some film of the other team before we go to the stadium.”

I sigh, sitting up in bed, letting the covers fall down my body. “And there’s nothing I could do to convince you to stay?” I ask shifting slightly towards her. 

She smirks, moving to stand over me at the end of the bed. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later. Besides, you have to get ready for work.”

I sigh dramatically, reaching for one of Mapi’s hoodies to pull on. “I run the whole company, they could survive without me for one day.”

“While I’m sure that’s true, my team needs me. Te amo, princesa. I’ll see you at the game.” She kisses me firmly, and I sigh. 

“Love you too. I can’t wait for the game! Tell Alexia I say hi!” Mapi nods, smiling, and grabbing her game bag and heading for the front door. I sigh and walk to the kitchen to brew some coffee, before pulling out my laptop to check some work emails before I get ready. 

I founded my company, Herstory, when I was nineteen. It soon became one of the largest worldwide media companies, focused on giving voice to powerful women who were often minoritized in favor of their male counterparts. The company had done extremely well and I, as a result, had carved out a fabulous life for myself. However, I refused to let the money take over my life and had tried to live as normally as possible. I didn’t even fully reveal everything to Mapi for the first few months of us knowing each other, and she only put the pieces together after seeing an interview I had done online. 

Mapi and I had been dating for the past two years, and they had arguably been the best two years of my life. We had managed to keep our relationship on the down low, only letting our closest friends and family know, which ended up working out absolutely perfectly. Well, almost perfectly. For some reason that I couldn’t seem to fathom, Mapi’s friends and teammates seemed to despise me. I had first met them six months after Mapi and I had begun dating after she invited me to a party the team was having. She was so excited, telling me how much I would love every single one of the girls she considered family and how they couldn’t wait to meet me, her “stunning and brilliant” girlfriend. I had been thrilled that, even though we were choosing to keep the relationship private, Mapi was so happy to introduce me to her friends, and being a little bit of a football fan myself, I couldn’t wait to meet the amazing Barcelona team. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The night had started out okay, and everyone seemed really friendly. I was sitting next to Mapi, with Ingrid on my right and Alexia, Claudia and Patri across from me. 

“I’m going to get a drink,” Mapi had announced to the table, before turning to me. “Mi amor, what do you want?”

I pointed to my half empty glass on the table. “A refill would be amazing, thank you baby.” She smiled, grabbing my glass and walking towards the bar. Watching my girlfriend walk away, I had missed the glance Ingrid had shot Patri, but when I turned back everything seemed normal. 

“That’s a really cool tattoo!” Alexia said, gesturing to the tattoo on my shoulder blade that had been revealed when I turned to watch Mapi, the open back of my dress showing off the ink that Mapi had done a couple of weeks prior.

“Thank you!” I said. “Mapi did it a couple of weeks ago, she’s so talented I swear! Her work is absolutely stunning.”

This time, I definitely didn’t miss the looks of a few of the girls at the table, but I brushed them off.

“So, what is it exactly you do for work?” Ingrid asked, turning to look at me.

“I actually have my own business!” I said proudly. I can’t help it, I’m constantly in shock of how lucky I’ve been to be able to do what I love. However, the team seemed less than impressed. 

“That’s…really interesting,” Claudia said, before whispering something to Alexia next to her. Alexia laughed quietly before, nudging Claudia with her elbow.

“Yeah, that sounds fun.” Patri said, glancing at Ingrid who had a little smirk on her face. 

“You must work really hard, you poor thing,” Ingrid said in a sickly sweet voice. “I can’t imagine having to run my own business, especially when it’s so hard to accomplish much when you put in so much effort.”

The girls at the table around me snickered, and I could feel my face grow hot. “Um, actually-” I started, but before I could finish Mapi sat back down beside me. “Here’s your drink, gorgeous.” She said, setting the glass down in front of me. I kissed her cheek in thanks before turning back to the table. I started to say something, but before I could get the words out, Alexia interrupted me, asking Mapi something about their upcoming match. Throughout the night, I kept quiet, leaning into Mapi’s side and trying not to make eye contact with the girls around me. I couldn’t understand what I’d done wrong, but I felt like I was back in high school, hiding from the popular crowd that would always make fun of me. By the time we got back to Mapi’s apartment that night I was on the verge of tears. She took me in her arms, sensing that something was wrong but that I wasn;t ready to talk about it. We stood in her apartment for who knows how long, me crying quietly into her button-up while she just held me. That’s one of my favorite things about Mapi (I could never just pick one). She seems to know what I need without me ever having to say anything. It’s like she can read my mind, and I hers.

Finally releasing me, she gently gripped my waist with one hand and lifted my chin to look her in the eyes. “Want to tell me what’s wrong, bebe?” she asked.

I nodded, wiping the last few tears from my eyes. “I just have this horrible feeling that your friends hate me, and I don’t know why.” I whispered, before lowering my eyes again. 

She gently raised my chin again, staring into my eyes with her piercing ones. “I’m sure that’s not true, maybe they were just tired? It’s been a long week, and I don’t think anyone could ever dislike you. You’re the most brilliant, funny, wonderful, kind, smoking hot woman I’ve ever known, and they would be foolish to not see this.”

I smile up at her, my beautiful beautiful girlfriend. Her tough exterior can be misleading, but Mapi is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life, Maps. I love you.” I tell her, kissing her softly. 

“I’m the lucky one,” she assures me. “Now go change, I’ll run us a bath, and then we can watch some TV with Bagheera.” She reaches down to grab the cat that had been threading itself through our legs, kissing his head before placing him on the couch.

I smile, walking towards her bedroom. How did I get so lucky?

I finish getting ready for work, before grabbing my keys and my bag with the clothes I’ll wear to the game. I don’t have time to come home after work, so I had packed everything I needed in my bag the night before. On the way to work, I listen to a playlist Mapi and I had made one Saturday with all our favorites, thinking about the day ahead. Work would be easy enough, I had a couple of meetings with some division leaders within the company, and a longer conference with a few of the women we were working with to get their stories into the world. I love my job, so every day brings me joy, but days like this are my favorite. Days when I get to listen to the stories of some of the most incredible women in the world and help them share their voices. Plus, I get to go see my amazing girlfriend play professional football later, which is a bonus. The only thing I wasn’t looking forward to was interacting with the team, who had continued to be increasingly passive-aggressive towards me. Mapi assured me they were just protective, but it seemed like something much more. However, I had yet to confront anyone about it, instead choosing to focus solely on my girlfriend. 

The day passes quickly, and soon enough it’s time to get ready for the match. I change into my Mapi kit, the special one she had made for me that has the date we first met printed on the hem, as well as a number of small hearts hidden among the fabric. Discreet enough that most people wouldn’t notice, but we both knew where they were. I put on the necklace and earrings Mapi had gotten me for my birthday a few weeks before (she had gone all out for the celebration, despite my repeated insistence I didn’t need anything, and I honestly loved her for it), before applying some light makeup and heading to the stadium. I showed my pass at the front desk, and was led to the family and friends section in time to see my girlfriend and her team take the pitch. The game passed in a blur, Barcelona scoring three times in the first half. Coming into the second half, Barcelona hits the ground running, scoring within the first two minutes. This seems to anger the opposing team, and they start to play dirtier. Tackles are flying, and in the chaos Alexia goes for a wide shot, which is ultimately deflected by the opposing goalie. Mapi lines up near the goal for the corner, and once the ball is in motion she times a stunning header perfectly, sending the ball into the back of the net. I jump to my feet, screaming along with the crowd. Mapi blows a kiss in my direction, before being swarmed by her teammates. 

The rest of the game passes quickly, Alexia and Patri both scoring before full time is called. When the final whistle blows, I cheer along with the crowd as the team takes a victory lap, stopping to chat with fans along the way. As the people in the stands start to leave, I make my way down towards the pitch. Mapi meets me at the barricade, and helps me onto the pitch. Once next to her, I launch myself into her arms, my legs wrapping around her waist as she hugs me tightly. “Amazing goal, amor” I tell her, as she discreetly kisses my neck before setting me back down.

“It was for you” she assures me, before wrapping her arm around my waist and dragging me towards the rest of the team. I greet her teammates, the women giving me lackluster nods before returning to their own conversations.

“Amazing goal, Alexia!” I tell the brunette next to me. She turns to look at me, giving me a tight smile. “Gracias” she responds, before pointedly turning back to Jenni who was standing on her other side.

“That’s a pretty necklace,” Ingrid said sweetly, gesturing to the one dangling from my neck. “Where did you get it?”

“I got it for her,” Mapi said proudly. “A gem for my gem.” I blushed, curling into her to hide my warm face, laughing slightly at her joke. I however, didn’t miss Ingrid rolling her eyes and looking sharply at Patri.

“Did Mapi get those earrings for you, too?” Patri asked sharply.

“Uh yeah, she did!” I answered, turning to face the woman. “How’d you know?”

She looked at me coldly. “Just a hunch” she said, before muttering something to Jenni who let out a loud laugh. Mapi, oblivious to everything, turned to look at the stands and saw a young girl holding out a sign with mapi’s name on it.

“Aww, babe, look!” she exclaimed, tugging me towards the sign. “Let’s go say hi!” 

I pushed everything from my mind and focused on Mapi’s interaction with the young fan. She was so attentive and kind, and watching her with the young girl couldn’t help but make me think of a future with her, and maybe a little kid of our own. 

“Hey, hermosa,” Mapi said to me, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Would you mind grabbing my warmup from the girls over there so I can change into something after I give this chica my kit?”

“Of course not!” I tell her, smiling at the little girl who looked like she was about to pass out at the idea of getting Mapi Leon’s kit. “I’ll be right back!”

I jog over to the team, who is standing huddled in even closer than before. As I approach, I hear Ingrid’s angry voice. 

“-and we have to say something! This has gone on for long enough, I can’t watch her stay with that gold digging bitch any longer!”

I freeze. Inching closer to the group, they thankfully don’t seem to see me.

“Come on Ingrid, is she really that bad?” I hear another voice, belonging to Marta. “She seems to make Mapi really happy, and she honestly seems like such a sweet girl. I think you are too harsh on her.”

My blood runs cold. Me? A golddigger? I would laugh if I didn’t feel like bursting into tears.

“I think we know exactly how she’s making Mapi happy” Jenni bites out, and the girls laugh.

“Honestly, I think we need to tell Mapi sooner rather than later, it’ll help her in the long run” Alexia says, and as most of the girls agree, I clear my throat.

It’s almost comical, they way they all turn to face me. Alexia’s face drops, as do the faces of most of the other girls.

I paste on a fake smile. “Have any of you seen Mapi’s warm up jacket?” I ask. “She wants to give her kit to that little girl over there and asked me to come find the jacket for her.”

Wordlessly, Sandra hands me Mapi’s jacket. I mutter a thank you before turning to walk towards my girlfriend. I pause for a moment, then turn back around.

“Just for the record, not that it matters, but just so you all know, I’m most certainly not a golddigger. None of you even know me, not really, but the fact that this is the conclusion that you have jumped to breaks my heart. Especially because it seems to be the reason you've treated me so horribly. If you really cared about Mapi like you say you do, you would have made an effort to get to know her girlfriend instead of jumping to ridiculous accusations and high school mean girl actions.”

Ingrid scoffs. “You are a golddigger!” she shouts. “Mapi is constantly buying things for you, paying for you, and we all know you’re just using her for her money! You’ll drop her the second you get a chance and we are not about to let that happen!”

Looking at Ingrid and the team standing around her, I break. The tears start to fall, slowly at first, then all at once, and I run off of the pitch. I run off so quickly that I don’t see Mapi, who had finished with the fan and found another hoodie to wear, walking up beside the team. Ingrid had been yelling so loudly she had heard the entire speech, and she was now standing beside the team, anger taking over every feature on her face.

“What the hell did you just say to my girlfriend?” she shouts at Ingrid, the taller girl spinning to face her.

“All of you! What is wrong with you? She is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and you have all been treating her horribly!”

“We are only trying to look out for you,” Alexia says, approaching Mapi. “We don’t want you to get used or for your heart to get broken.”

Mapi backs away from Alexia. “She makes more money than I do!” she shouts. “Her business is huge! And if any of you had taken the time to get to know her, you would know that.”

One by one, the faces of everyone on the team fall. “What?” Patri asks, hoarsely.

“I can’t believe all of you. You may have just ruined the best thing in my life. I hope you’re all proud of yourselves.” Mapi says, a tear falling.

Alexia looks at her friend, then back at her team. Instantly, she knows they have to go into damage control mode. If Mapi was crying, they had really fucked up. Mapi never cried, especially not around them.

Alexia gently approached Mapi, putting her arms around the shorter girl’s shoulders. “How can we make this right?” she asked.

Back at my apartment, I changed into an old shirt of Mapi’s and a pair of shorts before grabbing a tub of ice cream and sitting down on the couch, where I planned to spend the rest of the night watching television and crying. However, my wallowing was cut short. After only two episodes of Friends, there was a knock at my door. Assuming it was Mapi, I stayed where I was. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, but most of all I didn’t want to get up. I figured Mapi would unlock the door in a minute with her key, so I stayed where I was. There was another knock, before the door opened. I sighed, pausing the television, but not turning around. 

“Mapi, I’m really not in the mood to talk right now.”

“It’s, um, not Mapi.” a voice said. I turned around in shock, and saw Alexia standing by the door, the rest of the team visible behind her. I stood up, walking towards the team.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked. “And how did you even get in?”

“Mapi gave us her key,” Ingrid spoke up. “She’s on her way, but she wanted to give us a chance to apologize before she got here.”

“We can leave though, if you want?” Alexia said. “We just really wanted to tell you how sorry we are. We never meant for things to end up like this, we just got carried away in trying to protect our friend. But instead, you got hurt, and we don’t know what we can do to make it up to you.”

My eyes move over the rest of the team, and I’m shocked to find tears on Claudia’s face. Patri looks just as miserable, and Marta looks furious with her team, as does Sandra.

“I, I don’t really know what to say.” I stammer out. 

“You don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to,” Ingrid assures me. “But we brought food and games, we thought maybe we could have a game night, or maybe a movie night?” 

I sigh slightly, before smiling a little. “That sounds really nice,” I say. “Come on in!”

I can hear the sigh of relief breathed from practically everyone, and they make their way into my apartment. Alexia, Marta, Jenni and Sandra carry a number of bags and follow me to the kitchen where they start pulling out containers and boxes of food to set up. The others start setting up games in the living room, and someone obviously brought a speaker because music starts playing. I smile, looking around my house, and almost miss the knocking coming from the front door. I open it to see Mapi, holding a bouquet and looking adorable in a pajama onesie I had gotten her as a joke (I have a matching one in my closet). She peers into the apartment, and, seeing the girls behind me, breathes a huge sigh of relief. I pull her into a tight hug, and she kisses me softly. 

“I’m so, sorry sorry bebe,” she says into my hair, pulling me even tighter into her embrace. “I had no idea what was going on, but I’m so happy we sorted everything out and I can spend the night with my favorite girls.”

I grin, and, grabbing her larger hand in mine, drag her into the house. 

The night is amazing, and, as Alexia assures me, the first of many. She pulls me aside later to apologize, as do Ingrid, Patri, Claudia and Jenni. It may have been a rocky start, but I can tell that these amazing women will turn out to be some of my closest friends in the world, and they prove themselves time and time again in the years to come, how much they have changed and how much they love Mapi and I. 

[writtenjewels]

Voice part 1

[My only explanation for this one is that I'm a big fan of The Twilight Zone]

It was going to be another restless and lonely night. Salim considered going out, but always stopped himself. A part of him knew he should try—Zain was certainly saying so often enough—but Salim was in a strange limbo of fearing to get close to anyone again, and wanting the closeness. It was like an itch that he could ignore most of the time, but was in need of scratching.

He went into a healthy living store hoping for something to ease the rising tension inside him. Salim grabbed a few teas, then found himself wandering into the meditation section. Anything would be welcome, at this point. There were several books on the subject, and a few guided recordings. Salim spotted something shoved in with the recordings. He grabbed it and pulled it out. It didn't have a label. The mystery of it intrigued him and he bought it.

Later that day, he put the recording in his player and started the tape.

“Hey, darlin'. You look like you've had a long day.” Salim stared at his player, taken by surprise by the voice. Not that this voice couldn't have been soothing, but he was too distracted by the accent. It was distinctly American—specifically from the South, like in those cowboy movies Salim liked to watch. He supposed there was something charming about that twang. He pressed play.

“You work too fuckin' hard, ya know that? Sit your ass down.” Salim had to stop the tape again to laugh. The cursing should have been vulgar, but it sounded so genuine and natural. Without realizing it, Salim found himself relaxing. He started the tape again. “You got so much tension in your shoulders. Let me work out those kinks for ya.”

Salim rolled his shoulders. A massage sounded nice. Almost as if it heard him, the voice began to describe a shoulder rub in great detail. He could imagine strong fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders, working in gentle circles to loosen him. Salim closed his eyes, leaning forward and letting his body go slack. The voice kept talking and the imaginary hands went lower to the middle of Salim's back. They pressed into his flesh, working out every kink. Salim was nearly slumped over in his chair.

“You doze off on me, darlin'?”

“I did,” Salim admitted, blinking his eyes lazily open. If a real massage felt half as good, he might just go find a parlor. He stretched out his back and found he really did feel more loose.

“You work too goddamn hard, ya know that?” The voice on the recording sounded almost playful, even as it scolded him. Salin found himself smiling. Between these little comments and the way the voice described the massage, he was feeling much better. He stopped the tape again and took it out of his player.

It was a shame the label had worn off. He would have liked looking into the company that made this tape. At least he was lucky enough to find it in the store. He put the tape back in its casing and went about the rest of his day.

Salim went through his usual evening routine and climbed into bed. He spent five minutes tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable. His thoughts drifted to the tape. Listening to that description of the massage nearly put him to sleep earlier. Maybe it could help him again. Salim got up, taking his player and the tape into his room. He plugged in the player, inserted the tape, and hit play before getting back into bed.

“It's awfully late for you to still be awake, darlin'.” Salim was confused by the words. Why didn't the recording start from the beginning? “It's okay, I couldn't sleep either,” the voice continued. “I'm a night owl myself.”

“This is strange,” Salim frowned, sitting up.

“I think I know somethin' that might help you relax,” the voice told him. “How 'bout a massage?”

“Oh.” This was familiar territory again. “Yes, please,” Salim agreed, stretching out on his bed again. He closed his eyes and listened as the recording described the massage to him. Except it went a little differently this time.

Every so often the voice would pause to ask, “How's this?” Or “Do you want me to keep going?” Or “Does this muscle hurt?” And so on. Salim found himself answering, and he would swear that the description was actually responding to him, giving him attention where he said he needed it most. Of course that was ridiculous, but it gave the recording an interactive feel he enjoyed.

“You feelin' better now?” the voice asked him.

“Mhm,” Salim answered drowsily.

“Goodnight then, darlin'.”

“Goodnight,” he responded, dropping off to sleep.