#there are a lot of young people on tiktok who don't know that the world can be a much kinder place outside it

[ask-artsy-oncie]

Why is it that people intrinsically tie fan-culture to mass-consumerism? "You're not a real fan unless you buy all the official merch/multiples of certain merch items" and this pressure to be validated by how much money you pay.

To a degree, I do get it. I'm a collector. Much less so now than I was back in college (I have bills to pay now that I didn't back then), but I do still consider myself so. I like to find obscure merchandise (for me, most of the fun is in the hunt) for the things I love, and I like to display that stuff proudly in my home. But if someone did not, in fact, do that, I wouldn't claim them to like that same thing less. I'd probably actually commend them for being more practical with their money. (Like, yes, it's healthy to get yourself treats, but I need to be clear that it is not financially wise to be spending full paychecks on every piece of media from an obscure 90's video game series you can get your hands on.)

This concept of tying validity to money spent specifically on official merch really only serves to benefit the copyright holders of the media you enjoy - it doesn't benefit you, it certainly doesn't benefit other fans, and it barely even benefits the individual artists who work so hard to create the thing you love (within a case-by-case basis). It's a form of corporate ass-kissing and creates these environments within fandom that actively discourages people from liking media with no active official merch, such as more obscure media or old media - at the very least if actively discourages them from sharing their love for it.

There are games are no longer available to buy outside of overpriced secondhand markets made for consoles that can barely be played on modern TVs, there are shows that never got home media releases, there are songs by musicians who didn't get industry deals. There is some media that can be exceptionally loved by people who cannot give money to their copyright holders in order to enjoy them, period. These pieces of media are worth caring about because someone out there damn well cares about them, and finds value in them. The passion they have for preserving them and talking about them means more than any amount of money ever will.

And speaking of passion, when the hell did hand-made fan merch become "lesser than"??? How does dropping money on something somehow mean more than the time, dedication, AND money someone pours into making their own fan art from scratch? For someone who was born in the US in the 90's, but who's first media special interests were from the early 80's and European comics, I had NO avenue of expressing my love for these pieces of media outside of fanart. I started making my own T-shirts, my own dolls, my own keychains - and to be clear these things looked like SHIT!! I was a child, I had never done something like that before, of course it looked bad. But it was an authentic display of passion. Do you think it'd be fair to gatekeep that declaration of passion from someone just because other people were born in the right time and place to be "real" fans? I certainly hope not.

Kill the damn cops in your head and stop bending to the will of copyright holders. Whatever is or isn't a "real" display of love has nothing to do with the sheer amount of money spent. Shopping addiction is also a real and harmful thing that shouldn't be made the standard for expressing love. Gatekeeping fan culture does nothing but make said fan communities not want you in their community. Kindling hierarchical spaces so you can be sat atop can - and I say this from experience - only end in self-cannibalization. You have nothing to gain long-term from this mentality.

[docholligay]

Do you think authors sometimes don't realize how their, uh, interests creep into their writing? I'm talking about stuff like Robert Jordan's obvious femdom kink, or Anne Rice's preoccupation with inc*st and p*dophilia. Did their editors ever gently ask them if they've ever actually read what they've written?

Firstly, a reminder: This is not tiktok and we just say the words incest and pedophilia here.

Secondly, I don't know if I would call them 'interests' so much as fixations or even concerns. There are monstrous things that people think about, and I think writing is a place to engage with those monstrous things. It doesn't bother me that people engage with those things. I exist somewhere within the whump scale, and I would hope no one would think less of me just because sooner or later I like to rough a good character up a bit, you know? It's fun to torture characters, as a treat!

But, anyway, assuming this question isn't, "Do writers know they're gross when I think they are gross" which I'm going to take the kind road and assume it isn't, but is instead, "Do you think authors are aware of the things they constantly come back to?"

Sometimes. It can be jarring to read your own writing and realize that there are things you CLEARLY are preoccupied with. (mm, I like that word more than concerns). There are things you think about over and over, your run your mind over them and they keep working their way back in. I think this is true of most authors, when you read enough of them. Where you almost want to ask, "So...what's up with that?" or sometimes I read enough of someone's work that I have a PRETTY good idea what's up with that.

I've never read Robert Jordan and I don't intend to start (I think it would bore me this is not a moral stance) and I've really never read Rice's erotica. In erotica especially I think you have all the right in the world to get fucking weird about it! But so, when I was young I read the whole Vampire Chronicles series. I don't remember it perfectly, but there's plenty in it to reveal VERY plainly that Anne Rice has issues with God but deeply believes in God, and Anne Rice has a preoccupation with the idea of what should stay dead, and what it means to become. So, when i found out her daughter died at the age of six, before Rice wrote all of this, and she grew up very very Catholic' I said, 'yeah, that fucking checks out'.

Was Rice herself aware of how those things formed her writing? I think at a certain point probably yes. The character of Claudia is in every way too on the nose for her not to have SOME idea unless she was REAL REAL dense about her own inner workings. But, sometimes I know where something I write about comes from, that doesn't mean I'm interested in sharing it with the class. I would never ever fucking say, 'The reasons I seem to write so much of x as y is that z happened to me years ago' ahaha FUCK THAT NOISE. NYET. RIDE ON, COWBOY.

But I've known some people in fandom works who clearly have something going on and don't seem to realize it. Or they're very good at hiding it. Based on the people I'm talking about I would say it's more a lack of self-knowledge, and I don't even mean that unkindly. I have, in many ways, taken myself down to the studs and rebuilt it all, so I unfortunately am very aware of why I do and write the things I do most of the time. It's extremely annoying not to be able to blame something. I imagine it must be very freeing. But it ain't me, babe.

Anyway, a lot of words to say: Maybe! But that might not stop them from writing it, it might be a useful thing for them to engage with, and you can always just not read it.

Also, we don't censor words here.

[bapeach]

Accidental love

Another long fic and I'm honestly very proud of it! I don't know anything about torn ACL's or anything so if stuff is wrong, just ignore it. I hope you enjoy! Constructive criticism is always welcome :D Find my masterlist here :) Pairing(s): Paige Bueckers x female!reader  Word count: 9.1k+  Warnings: depression, life-changing accident, cursing, happy ending Summary: After a life-changing accident, Y/N finds peace in her new life, but when Paige Bueckers faces her own injury, their worlds collide. ------------

Paige Bueckers

Of course, it was a name you knew. You’re a student at UConn, so if you didn’t know of her, well, you’d be living under a rock. Paige Bueckers is UConn’s star player. The golden student. The future of women’s basketball. A legend in the making… 

You could go on and on about the things you’ve heard about her. She always seemed to be present in your life in one way or another. A mumble in the hallway as you go to class, an edit on your TikTok fyp, a celebration post on UConn’s Instagram page…

You don’t know the girl personally, having only been in the same room as her a few times when you went and watched some of her games. You’ve heard a lot of good things about her. You respected her grind, the way she gave her all to basketball and was a great team leader. You’ve also heard she’s a sweetheart off the court and always tries to make people comfortable. She’s also really pretty, which you’re sure is a contributing factor to why she’s so loved. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. 

You’d had your own fair share of admirers because of your looks. You’d caught plenty of girls fawning over you as they ogled your muscles, giggling when you sent them a flirty wink. If you were honest, you were quite the player when you first came to university. You’d messed around with a few girls, never really getting into anything too serious. 

You just didn’t have time for relationships. You were too busy studying biomedical engineering while also having a job and hobbies. And boy, did you have hobbies. Ever since you were young, you were a very active kid. Your parents always had to beg you to come inside, only being able to persuade you with promises of weekends at the indoor playground/kid gym.

Growing up, you stayed active. You went for a run every morning and swimming at least once a week. You didn’t join your school’s sports teams because how could you only choose one? You spend every weekend doing a different sport until you run out, only to start over. Basketball, boxing, soccer, baseball, hockey... you did it all. Your all-time favorite, though? Rock climbing.

You think there’s nothing better in this world than rock climbing after a long week. Wind ruffling your hair as the bright sun shines on your back. Climbing as high as you can, your muscles burning as you strain them to their limit, your chest tight as you gasp for breath. But it’s all worth it, because in the end, when you reach the top and have a full view of the horizon? It feels like you’re on top of the world. Like you’re untouchable and all your hopes and dreams are within reach.

The thought of climbing always filled you with warmth and excitement. Even after climbing the same rocks over and over, you still felt in awe every time you made it to the top. Knowing that no matter what, at the end of the day, you could always count on the dusty stones beneath your fingertips always made a smile grow on your face. 

Well. That was before the accident, at least. Now the thought of it makes you feel a dull throb in your chest. 

The last time you went climbing, you’d gone with some fellow enthusiasts. It was a group of strangers you’d met at the indoor climbing hall. Their little club ranged from new climbers to experts, and you’d clicked with them immediately. The guide you went with was a middle-aged man who had over 20 years of experience, so you were excited to maybe learn some new things. He was a really nice guy, happy to see someone your age be so excited about his favorite activity. When you partnered up with him, you didn’t expect anything to go wrong. Daredevils like yourself never really think too much about the consequences of your actions or things that could go wrong, otherwise you’d be too afraid to do half of the things you do. So that day was like no other. At first at least.

When you had reached 3/4ths of the climb, it happened. Even now, 2 years later, you’re not sure what exactly happened. You only know that one moment you were gripping onto the rocky wall and the next you were falling. When you think about it, it all feels like a dream. It didn’t take you long before you hit the ground, but it somehow felt like ages.

You remember how distraught your guide was when you finally woke up in the hospital. You didn’t understand anything he was saying at first. He was crying too hard, stumbling over his words as he kept apologizing. Something about malfunctioning equipment? 

When the doctor walked in, you immediately knew something was very wrong. Your chest filled with an unbearable ache when you saw the sad frown on his face. After that, everything is pretty much a blur. You didn't hear anything after the words “paralyzed” and “never walk again” were spoken. Everything became muffled as your ears started buzzing. You felt your chest tighten, and this time not in a good way. You were drowning on dry land.

The next months were some of the darkest moments of your life. You felt like your world was ending. And it kind of was. Everything you thought you were, gone in a matter of seconds. Bound to a wheelchair for the rest of your life. You shut everyone out at first, but soon realized you couldn’t bear all of this alone. Your family was your greatest support. They were your greatest fans, always celebrating your wins, and now they were here to mourn your greatest losses with you as well. 

You lost quite a lot of friends after the accident. It was hard being friends with your sporty friends when you could only think about how you wished you could join them. Your friendships didn’t all end on a bad note, though. You knew that if anything was wrong, you could still call them, and they’d show up in a heartbeat. 

You also gained a few friendships. Some people you met at therapy, support groups, online forums,... You also found a friend in the guide you were with that day. While you hated him at first, too filled with pain to think clearly, you’d talked to him at a later point. He apologized profusely once more, but you forgave him quickly. It’s not like it was his fault. Besides, it was hard to hate him, the way he looked at you with so much guilt. He had kind but wise eyes, prominent smile lines, and his hair was graying a little, but he was still full of life and filled with passion. You knew this accident would haunt him for the rest of his life, and he didn’t deserve that, so you made sure to stay in touch with him. If only to let him know you were doing well and make sure he was too.

You still often think about the days when you could be wild and free. In the two years since the incident, you’ve changed a lot. You’ve calmed down greatly, becoming a lot more mature and wise. While you used to be the go-to friend for a crazy time, you were now the friend people came to for advice. You missed your younger self, but still felt like she was a part of you. You’d gone through so much, the change was only natural. And honestly? You were proud of the person you’d become. Sure, you weren’t perfect and still had your days when you felt like you couldn’t breathe and like the world was against you. But overall, you were at peace with your life. It’s also not like you’d fully lost your playful self. You still loved teasing your friends, pulling pranks, and causing mischief.

So yeah, while you didn’t know Paige personally, you definitely felt like you knew a lot about her from the media, the people around you, and even some of her friends. You’d met Azzi a year ago when she got injured during a game. She’d been destroyed when she realized she wouldn’t be playing again any time soon. Having to find something new to do, she’d made her way to the library, where she bumped into you. You started talking, and before long you two became pretty good friends. You listened to her situation and told her what you’d been through. 

At first, she’d apologized profusely, feeling bad about how she complained about not being able to play for a few months while you’d never get to do your favorite things ever again. You’d made sure the younger girl knew it was okay, and that you didn’t want her to feel like she couldn’t be upset just because you’d also gone through something. You’d spent hours with the girl talking about the adventures you used to go on and how much your life had changed. You made sure to tell her how happy you were despite everything, letting her know that no matter what, she’d be okay. 

While you don’t talk as much as you used to anymore, now that she’s back on the court, you still text each other every so often, smiling as you pass each other on campus. You didn’t blame her for becoming busy, you were excited to see her play with that bright smile on her face. You made sure to cheer her on and text her congratulations on her wins and “You did well” messages when the team lost. The girl appreciates you more than you know. Without you, she wouldn’t be where she is now. She’d learned so much from you.

Somehow, during your whole friendship, you’d never really met the team. Not that you really felt the need to. She had her friends, and you had yours. There was no need to mix up the groups. That being said, you didn’t really think you’d ever meet Paige or become close with her.

You were curious, though. As you wheel out of the library, you hear Paige’s name all around you. Two girls leaning in close as one gasps her name. A group of guys with their mouths dropped open as a video on their phone says the star athlete’s name. A professor walking past with a frown, mumbling, “... yeah, Paige Bueckers…”. 

When you reach your dorm, you open your laptop and search “Paige Bueckers” on Twitter. You immediately feel a pit in your stomach. The first tweet you see is a video with the caption “I’m gonna cry, I feel so bad for her”. You click the video and see why the basketball player was being talked about everywhere. At first, it looks like a normal clip from their most recent game. You see Nika passing the ball to Aaliyah, who passes it to a sprinting Azzi, who finally passes it off to Paige. You blink, and suddenly the blonde is on the floor, clutching her knee as tears stream down her face. You can see the worry and fear on her teammates’ faces, and the distraught but knowing look on Paige’s. A torn ACL. No doubt about it.

For a moment, your own accident flashes in your mind. The weightlessness as you were falling. Waking up and realizing you can’t move. You shake away the thoughts, blinking the haze from your eyes. You grab your phone to text the girl something, anything to make her feel better, but you pause. Right now, the last thing she’ll care about is a stranger texting her she’ll be okay when they probably don’t have any idea what she’s going through. Your thumb hovers over Azzi’s contact, but you end up closing the app. The brunette is probably too busy to talk, being too worried about her best friend. “I’ll talk to her soon,” you think to yourself before going on about your day.

You were right about talking to her soon. Only a week after the latest UConn tragedy, you see her. You were tucked away in your favorite corner of the library, a worn copy of your favorite book lying in your lap. You were surrounded by colorful pens, post-its, stickers, and tabs as you added new scribbles in the margins of the book (don’t worry, you’d gotten your own copy after the first time you read it).

Finishing a tiny doodle on the inside of the cover, you look up and see the younger girl. Beaming that wide smile of hers that could light up a dark room. The type of smile that makes you return the gesture before you even realize what’s happening. When she reaches your table, she greets you happily before looking back. It’s only then that you realize she’s brought company.

There she is. UConn’s basketball miracle in all her glory. Paige Bueckers. 

You look her up and down. She’s wearing her blue UConn tracksuit, her hair is in a bun, and she’s holding two crutches under her arms. Her usually bright blue eyes have become a darker color as a frown is set on her face. She didn’t want to be there, she wanted to be in her room, wallowing in her bed with a pint of ice cream. She doesn’t understand why Azzi felt the need to drag her out of the comfort of her own dorm to go meet some stranger that would give her the same stupid pitying looks she’d been getting from everyone around her. 

“Hey Ace,” you send her a grin before looking back towards the injured girl. “Hey, I’m Y/N,” you nod at her. She only frowns at you until Azzi turns and sends her a pointed look. “Paige,” the blonde sighs. You hide your amused smile, knowing she’d get even more annoyed if she thought you were making fun of her. 

“I figured it was finally time some of my favorite people met!” the brunette beams. When you catch her eye, you have a silent conversation with her. You knew why she was here with Paige. She was hoping you’d be able to help her best friend the way you’d helped her. You can tell by Azzi’s body language that she’s slightly on edge, not sure how you’d react. You send her a reassuring wink as you start talking, “About time! I’ve heard a lot about you, Paige,” you say gently. The girl only hums in response. 

You see Azzi frown for a second before her signature easy smile makes its way back to her face. “I was thinking we could all go for coffee,” she says, looking at you with hope in her eyes. “Sounds good to me!” you grin as you start packing up your stuff. Once you’re done, you glance over at Paige, who is looking around with a bored expression. You’re not offended at her not wanting to spend time with you. You knew what it was like to feel your world crash, and you’d also tried pushing people away. The blonde maybe didn’t want to be around you right now, but you’d make sure she realized that she’d be okay.

You put your bag on your lap before wheeling your way around the table so you could be right beside the basketball players. You see Paige’s eyes widen as she takes you in, only now having realized you were in a wheelchair. You let her observe you for a moment, seeing her emotions swim in her eyes. You could tell she was shocked and a bit embarrassed, but you also saw her frustrations as she clenched her jaw and started frowning again. “So that’s why Azzi wanted me to meet her. Just so she could tell me that whatever I’m going through is nothing compared to what she has to live with,” Paige thinks as she tries not to roll her eyes. 

You simply send her a smile. You don’t mind the anger that seems to radiate off of the girl. You know she’ll probably say and do stuff she doesn’t mean in rage, and you don’t mind being the person all that fury is aimed at. You know that at the end of the day, she won’t mean any of it, and you’d rather she tries to hurt your feelings than her sunshine best friend.

“Let’s go then, shall we?” you say with a raised brow and a tiny smirk before you start wheeling away. You lead the way through campus to your favorite coffee shop, making small talk with Azzi. You try to include Paige as well, but you don’t talk to her all that much, not wanting to overwhelm her. When you arrive at the shop, the brunette holds the door for you and Paige with a smile, her eyes twinkling. You thank her before following the blonde in. 

“Your usual?” Azzi asks as she walks in behind you. “Yes please, thanks Princess,” you say with a playful wink, a wide grin on your face. The brunette shakes her head in amusement, her eyes crinkling as she smiles. You make your way towards a free table in the back, waving hi to the barista that always calls you his favorite regular. Paige follows not long after, while Azzi waits in line to order the drinks. Once Paige sits down with a huff, slightly out of breath as she rubs the spots where she leaned against the crutches, you don’t say anything at first. The silence isn’t exactly fun, but it’s not a bad silence either.

When your friend makes her way to your table, you smile softly at her as you accept your drink. “Thanks, Ace.” “Of course,” she replies, her voice soft. She looks over at Paige for a moment before clearing her throat. “Listen, P, I know you’re hurting. Not just physically but mentally too. And I know how you feel like it’s the end of the world, but I promise you, it’s not. When I went through my injury and couldn’t play, I spiraled too. But then I met Y/N, and she made me realize that everything would be okay. I know you’re not happy about being here, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re not allowed to be sad, but please just… talk to her. Y/N is an amazing friend to have, not just because she knows what it’s like to lose stuff, but just because she listens. She really listens, and she has a way of making you feel a little lighter on days when things seem impossible.” 

You look at her as she’s speaking, your smile soft as your chest feels warm. It was nice to hear her say such sweet things about you and trust that you’ll be able to help someone else she cares so much about. 

Azzi turns to you before continuing. “And Y/N, please don’t think we’re only here because I want you to help P. I’ve always wanted to introduce you two. I feel like you two could be great friends!” You lean over to grab her hand and give it a little squeeze. Of course, to anyone else it might’ve looked weird, the way you and Azzi hadn’t spoken in a while, and she only seemed to come back to you for help. You knew that wasn’t the case, though. The brunette was the definition of kindness. I mean, she has the nickname “The People’s Princess” for a reason. You didn’t feel offended at all, knowing this only proved how much she trusted you and how much you’d helped her in the past.

Paige’s jaw stays clenched a little longer, her brows furrowed. “I don’t need her help. I don’t need anyone’s help,” she thinks angrily to herself. When she looks up at her best friend, however, she falters. She knows Azzi doesn’t have a bad bone in her body. “I guess… if Azzi speaks this highly of her, then… she can’t be that bad.” You see her soften as she gives the brunette a soft nod. She turns to you, sighing softly before giving you a tentative smile. You grin at her as mischief swirls in your eyes. “Yeah, we’re gonna work out just fine,” you think.

As you drink your coffee, you talk about everything that’s been happening in your life lately, asking Azzi for details on what she’s been up to since you last talked. You make sure to ask Paige questions too, getting to know her more as well. You keep the conversation away from basketball or your own accident. There was a time and place for that conversation, and it wasn’t here and now. 

You stay in the coffee shop for hours, just chatting about everything and nothing. You manage to make both girls laugh a lot, one time even making Paige laugh so hard, her coffee comes out of her nose. She’d looked pretty embarrassed, her face turning a bright red, but she couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face. 

You’re in the middle of telling Paige a story about something you and Azzi had done a few months ago when the brunette’s phone went off. You pause your conversation as you look at her with a raised eyebrow. “Oh shoot! I gotta go, uh, do you guys mind if I head out?” she rambles, already getting up. You look at Paige, who’s already looking at you. You grin at each other before turning to Azzi. “Don’t worry, we’ll play nice,” you smirk. 

Once the brunette leaves, you think for a moment Paige will go back to her quiet self, but you’re wrong. “So? What happened next?” she asks, her eyes wide in a childlike wonder. Warmth blossoms in your chest. The people weren’t wrong when they praised the type of person the star athlete is. She was sweet, paid full attention to what you were saying at all times, and she was funny as hell. 

You continue the story, making the blonde chuckle and shake her head in disbelief. “There’s just no way Azzi did that.” You shrug with a smirk, “It’s all true.” She looks at you a little longer, eyes squinted, as she tries to find out if you're lying. When she realizes you’re not, she chuckles again as she leans back. 

You continue to look at her and notice her demeanor change. Her smile slowly leaves her face as her body becomes tense again. Somehow you’d managed to not make her think about basketball or her injury the whole time you were at the coffee shop, but now it seemed to all come back in one big wave. 

She frowns, leaning forward as she hesitantly meets your eye. “So… Are you finally gonna tell me to just suck it up and stop moping about my knee? Because at least there’s a chance I’ll still be able to play?”

You look at her for a moment. “Nope.” You push away from the table as you start rolling your wheelchair to the door. “W-Wait, what?” You hear Paige stutter, her chair screeching from how hard she scoots it away from the table. You grin, hearing the clattering behind you as the blonde struggles to grab her crutches to follow you. You thank the girl holding the door open for you as you roll into the warm afternoon sun. Paige huffs as she finally reaches you, a frown on her face. You can tell she’s not really upset, though, the way her lips are curling into a small smile.

“Come on, I’ll walk you to your dorm… well… wheel you to your dorm…? Wheel to your dorm as you hobble along…?” Your eyebrows are furrowed as you rub your chin, trying to find the right wording. You hear Paige snort beside you as she starts moving. “Oh my god, bro, just shut up.” 

You stick your tongue out in response before speeding up a bit to match her pace. You two don’t talk for a moment, enjoying the nice breeze as birds whistle around you. “I had fun with you today, Paige,” you smile up at the girl. She smiles back at you. “I had fun with you too… I’m sorry for how I acted earlier, it’s just… it’s been really hard,” the frown from earlier makes its way back onto her face.

“Don’t worry about it, P,” you say with a smile. The girl returns the gesture, hearing you call her her nickname. “So uhh, you don’t want to tell, y'know, all that stuff about how it’ll all be okay?” She asks hesitantly. “Would you believe me if I did?” You ask without any judgment in your voice. “I’m not sure… probably not,” she says as she looks over sheepishly. “Then there wouldn’t be any point to it, would there?” You tease. 

She looks back ahead of her, but you stare a little longer. “I’ll tell you about my accident some day, but not right now. I don’t wanna tell you and have you just end up feeling bad, y’know? We had a good day, let’s not ruin it with my sob story,” you grin as you send her a wink.

Once you reach the blonde’s dorm, she looks at you with reluctant eyes. She doesn’t want to say goodbye just yet. “Give me your number, we’ll text,” you demand, not really giving her a chance to say no, but you both know she wouldn’t. You see her relax a little as she hands you her phone. Once you’ve put your number in and added a cheeky contact name, you give her back her phone. 

“Text me, alright? I know where you live now, so if you don’t, I’ll come find you,” you say with a teasing wink. “Yes, ma’am,” she grins. You two say your goodbyes before you make your way to your own dorm. You haven’t even made it out of the basketball player’s hallway before you hear your phone ding. Your stomach flutters and your chest feels warm. You were excited about your new friendship and were looking forward to getting to know the legendary player on a deeper level. 

Over the following weeks, you two continue to text every day, hanging out in the coffee shop a few more times too. Sometimes Azzi joins you, but more often than not, it’s just the two of you. You learn more about Paige’s family and friends and how life was living in Minnesota while she also gets to know you more. 

You can’t say every day you spend with the blonde is an amazing day. The girl’s injury was still fresh, so she was often grumpy and sad and found it hard to enjoy having to sit still in some coffee shop or library when she’d rather be out there playing ball. You never got upset with her though, you’d been there before, and you knew she just needed some silent support. 

One afternoon, your phone rings, bringing a smile to your face. You know who’s calling before you even look. “Hey, P,” you say, your grin clear in your voice. “Hey Y/N/N, whatcha up to?” she mumbles. “Just hanging out in my dorm, watching a show. What ‘bout you?” you reply, leaning back on your bed as you stare at the ceiling. “M’bored, you should come over… Some of the girls are coming over later… You should meet them,” she says. When you close your eyes, you can see her sitting in her room, one hand holding her phone as the other rubs her neck shyly.

“Sounds nice,” you murmur. You hear a soft sigh of relief on the other end. “Yeah?” Paige’s voice crackles through the phone, her tone hopeful. “Mhm,” you hum, “I’ll be there in like… 20 minutes?” “Ugh, 20 whole minutes?” she whines as you chuckle at how childish she could be. “Oh, I’m sorry? Do you want me to put my wheelchair in turbo mode?” You joke. “Oh my goddd, stoppp,” she groans, muffling her chuckles behind her hand. 

When you first made jokes about your injury and wheelchair, Paige had completely frozen, not knowing how to react. It had taken her a while, but now she was used to your stupid little jokes and knew you made them because you liked making people laugh.

You laugh softly at her reaction before saying goodbye and hanging up the phone. You get out of bed, hopping into your wheelchair with ease, having been through this whole thing what feels like a million times before. You quickly get ready, grabbing a book Azzi had been wanting to borrow for a while and putting it in your bag before heading out. 

You were excited to see Paige and Azzi again and were curious to see what their other friends were like. You were pretty nervous, though. You’d be the odd one out in their usual little bubble. You didn’t let that stop you from going over, though. You’d never really been afraid to take leaps, and weren’t going to start now either.

When you make it to Paige and Azzi’s dorm in record time (the wind must’ve helped you make it there so fast…), you let your presence be known with your signature knock. Paige opens the door almost immediately with her trademark grin. “Hey P,” you smile as you wheel your way inside. “Hey Y/N/N,” she replies. “So, when’re the others gonna be here?” you say as you follow her towards her room. “Don’t know. Half an hour maybe?” she shrugs as she plops down on her bed. You nod your head as you look around. 

You’d been in the blonde’s room a few times already, but you still liked seeing if anything had changed. Her room was filled with the usual clutter, clothes thrown on the chair in the corner, a few water bottles next to her bed,...

She pats the space next to her, inviting you in. You wheel closer before heaving yourself onto the bed. Blue eyes follow your every move, ready to jump into action if you need help. Once you’re comfortable, you lean back and smile at her. “Grey's Anatomy?” you ask, your head tilted in question. Paige’s face immediately lights up as she leans over to grab her laptop. You continue the show where you’d left off last time before you hear commotion in the living room. 

You look over at Paige, who looks back at you with a pout on her face. You chuckle, sitting up a little straighter to hop back into your wheelchair. Once you’re seated, you wait for the blonde to grab her crutches and lead the way. You laugh softly at her huffing and puffing, knowing she’d rather watch her show right now than hang out with her team.

When you make it to the living room, you see KK, Nika, Ice, and Azzi chatting as they shrug off their jackets. When they notice Paige and you, they quiet down. “Y/N! Hey, I didn’t know you were here,” Azzi beams at you. “Guys, this is Y/N, the girl I’ve told you about, the one that helped me during my recovery,” she says cheerfully. KK, Nika, and Ice smile kindly at you before introducing themselves. 

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you guys,” you smile. “Only good things, I hope?” Nika teases. “Meh,” you reply with a smirk. The girls laugh before finding a spot to sit as you guys hang out. They leave 2 spots open on the couch for Paige and you, making you send them a thankful smile. 

You sit down and get to know the girls a little better. You could see why the UConn team was such a close-knit group. The girls were funny, sweet, and protective and treated each other like family. 

After a while, KK and Ice get bored and decide to turn on Paige’s PlayStation to play Fortnite. You continue to talk to everyone, laughing at the funny stories the girls tell you about Paige, trying to embarrass her. The blonde’s face turns a bright red as she complains about them being jerks, but her bright smile doesn’t leave her face. Your heart feels like it’s grown two sizes with how happy you’re feeling.

“Oh wait, Ace, I’ve got that book you asked for,” you say. You look towards your bag, seeing it near KK. “Hey KK, d’you mind grabbing my bag for me?” you ask the gaming girl. “Hm?” she hums distractedly. “Grab it yourself, bro,” she says, completely focused on the game. You see Azzi open her mouth to say something, but you hold up your hand to stop her. You send her an evil grin as mischief swirls around in your eyes. You make your face neutral, maybe even a little pouty, as you let out a sad sigh, “Alright.” 

You grab onto your wheelchair a little louder than necessary as you lean forward to move into it. KK’s head whips around so fast, you think she might’ve given herself whiplash. “WAIT, NO!” she yells, her eyes wide as she scrambles to get up to grab it for you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone move as fast as her at that moment. 

The girls around you slap their hands in front of their mouths to stifle their giggles. The younger girl looks at them with a pouty frown, feeling bad for forgetting you couldn’t easily get up to grab something. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles as she hands you the book. You send her a wink and a grin, letting her know you were just joking. You weren't offended about the fact she seemed to have forgotten. It showed you that the girls didn’t just see you as someone with a disability.

She sits back down next to Ice, sticking her tongue out at the still laughing girl. “s’not funny,” she mutters, staring at the TV as she continues the game. You could get used to hanging out with these girls. You loved the way they constantly teased each other, but never went too far. Many people were too scared to make any type of jokes around you, too focused on your impairment to realize you were also just a person. 

20 minutes go by before a phone rings. You recognize the ringtone as Paige’s and look towards the sound. Her phone is lying on the table near Ice and KK, who both look over for a split second before their attention goes back towards the TV. “KK, gimme my phone,” Paige demands, leaning forward to grab it from her. “Get it yourself,” the younger girl quips back, not even glancing at the blonde. Paige looks over at the other girls for a second, a “Seriously?” clear on her face. 

She grins before copying you. Sigh. “Fine,” she mutters, grabbing onto her crutches, making them bang against each other. KK looks back and deadpans at her. “Go ahead,” she says dryly, turning back to her match. 

“Bruh, what the hell,” Paige huffs as she gets up to grab her phone. You let out a deep belly laugh at the annoyed look on her face. The blonde turns to you with an unamused frown, as you send her an innocent smile and a shrug. 

You guys hang out for a few hours before it’s time to head back to your dorm. Your chest feels light when you say your goodbyes. Each girl gives you a hug with the promise of hanging out again soon. When you make it back to your room, you see you already have 2 texts from Paige. “had fun 2day, thanks for coming over” and “think KK likes you more than me”. 

That night, you go to bed with a wide smile on your face.

Days go by, and you stay in touch with all of the girls, but you mainly hang out with Paige. Today was another one of your planned hangouts, this time at your dorm, but the second the blonde arrived, you knew it wouldn’t be all fun and games. She’d just gone to physical therapy for her knee, and her face looks thunderous. She hadn’t slept well, constantly waking up because of her knee, she’s sick and tired of not being able to play, and physical therapy had gone horribly. 

When she walks in, she wordlessly flops down on your couch as she stares at the ceiling, a frown etched into her face. You go over to your fridge, grabbing a bottle of water for the both of you before returning to her side. You give her the bottle and wait patiently for her to talk. “I fucking hate this,” she fumes. “It’s been weeks since the game, why is everything still so… so… ughhhh,” she groans, unable to find the words. You give her arm a squeeze in support, but she shrugs you off, shooting upright as she continues her heated rant. 

You stay calm as you listen to her, knowing she needs this moment to blow off some steam. When she quiets down, heaving from all the talking, you quietly try to comfort her. “I know it sucks, P, but you need to just keep going, don’t give up. You’ll be on the court again soon enough, and it’ll be like you never left-” you can’t finish your sentence before Paige interrupts. 

“NO, YOU DON’T FUCKING GET IT!” she yells, her frustrations high. You wince slightly at the volume but don’t say anything. You give the blonde a moment to calm down and let everything sink in. You’re not offended, you know people say things they don’t mean in moments like this. 

Once she realizes what she just said to you, the one person who understands more than anything, she looks at you with guilt in her eyes. Her blue eyes having become a shade darker as they look at you sadly. You see tears starting to well up before she leans forward, putting her face in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whimpers in shame. You lean forward again, softly grabbing her wrist to take her hands away from her face. You hold one hand between yours as you catch her eye. You give her a gentle smile, letting her know you’re not upset.

“I shouldn’t have yelled… I shouldn’t’ve said that,” she mumbles regretfully. “It’s okay, P,” you murmur, giving her hand a squeeze. “You’re not mad?” She looks at you like a kicked puppy. You shake your head with a smile, “I’ve been through worse. I’ll survive a pretty girl raising her voice at me.” She gives you a tiny, sad smile, leaning her forehead against your entwined hands.

You start telling her your story. The story of how you grew up, playing every sport under the sun, up until that one dreadful day. You tell her about the dark, depressive hole you fell into after you woke up paralyzed, the way you pushed everyone away, and how you thought nothing would ever be okay again. The whole time you’re talking, she looks you in the eyes, barely blinking as she listens intently. Her jaw clenches as her eyes become glassy when you talk about your depression. When you finish talking about what it was like the first few months after the accident, you pause for a moment, letting everything sink in.

“How’d you do it…?” She asks, her voice cracking with emotion. “It was hard… really fucking hard,” you start. “I pushed everyone away at first, but my family never gave up on me. They helped me realize that while it really fucking sucked… I was still alive. And I would find new things to care about. And I did!” You smile. “With all my free time, I started looking for new hobbies. I found out pretty quickly that I don’t have the patience for puzzles, and I poked myself one too many times to enjoy cross-stitching,” you say with a playful grin, making the athlete breathe out a little laugh.

“I learned that I have pretty good rhythm, so I was able to pick up playing the guitar and the piano pretty easily. I realized that doodling really helps me unwind after a long day, which is funny because it’s the complete opposite of how I used to relax. I got better and better at drawing and tried out a bunch of different mediums, but my favorite is still pencil drawings. I’d always loved reading but never made enough time for it, but now I try to finish at least one book a week… Uhh, I bought a PlayStation which I play on maybe a little too much, but you know what that’s like, Ms Fortnite addict.” You tease. She rolls her eyes, but you can tell that she’s no longer feeling so bad, a tiny smile decorating her face. 

You let silence fill the room for a moment. “I’m not saying this in a way of being like, ‘Stop complaining and get over it’, but I promise P, things will be okay. You’re the Paige Bueckers… It’s gonna take a lot more than a torn ACL for you to stop being you. Have some faith.” You send her a comforting smile as you squeeze her hand. She nods at you, her muscles relaxed as she finally lets out a relieved sigh. “Thanks… for everything,” she breathes. You shake your head with a smile, thinking it’s silly she’s thanking you for being her friend. “You don’t need to thank me for that… but you’re welcome. And thank you for including me in your group of friends… I don’t remember the last time I’ve had this much fun.”

You two talk for the rest of the afternoon, ordering a pizza when dinner time arrives. After you’re done eating, you migrate to your bedroom, letting a movie play in the background as you keep talking about everything and nothing. You’re sitting on your bed, telling Paige a story, waving your arms animatedly as her blue eyes stare into yours. “... And then she looked at me and I almost passed out from laughing! You should’ve seen the look on Ace’s face!” you say, hiccuping a little from laughing. The blonde laughs along, her chest feeling warm at the sound of your laugh.

“So what’s up with that nickname anyway?” she questions as she leans her head on her hand. “Ace?” You ask. “Well, her name’s Azzi, but people call her Azz, so then I started calling her Ace, as in A C E, like in a deck of cards. The ace cards are the highest cards in the deck, and I think of her quite highly,” you explain.

“Okay, but doesn’t it depend on the game?” she asks, tilting her head like a confused puppy. “Hm?” “Well, isn’t the ace card the lowest in certain games?” she says with a raised eyebrow. You can’t help laughing as she says that. “God, are you always this negative?” You tease, giving her a little push. She rolls her eyes as she scrunches her nose, sticking her tongue out. 

You continue talking until the sky becomes dark. Paige looks out the window, a slight frown growing on her face at the thought of having to leave. “Do you wanna stay the night?” you ask nonchalantly, but you feel your heart beat a little faster. Her bright blue eyes find yours immediately as she looks to see if you’re joking. “Yeah, sure, if that’s cool with you,” she says as she fiddles with her necklace. You smirk at how nervous she seems. “I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t, now would I?” She slaps your arm lightly to shut you up. “Go ahead and grab some clothes from my closet,” you tell her, hopping into your wheelchair to go get ready for bed in your bathroom.

When you return, you freeze for a moment, your heart swelling at the blonde dressed in your clothes. When she looks over at you, you start moving again, letting her use the bathroom as well. A few minutes later, she returns, looking around a little sheepishly. You pat the bed next to you, sending her a calming smile. You continue talking a little longer, but slowly feel your eyes grow heavy. You fall asleep to Paige’s tired mumbling. The last thing you remember is a soft hand grabbing yours, entwining your fingers before you doze off.

After that night, your relationship with Paige changes. You feel like you’ve somehow become even closer to her and are happy to call her your best friend. You’re rarely seen without the other, always attached to the hip. You make sure to come with her to physical therapy for silent support, while she often joins you in the library as you finish another book on your list. Your favorite hangout spot is the coffee shop where you two properly talked for the first time. You make sure to go there every week, sometimes even being joined by the girls on the team (who you’d all gotten to know pretty well by now).

When the end of Paige’s recovery nears, you’re a little nervous. While you never blamed Azzi for getting too busy to hang out a lot after she recovered, you would still be upset if the same happened with the blonde. All your worries were for naught, however, when Paige continues to call you every chance she gets, sending you quick texts when she can’t. She often adds silly selfies as well, just to make you laugh.

You’ve known you’ve had a crush on the girl for a while now, but you never said anything. Paige needed to focus on getting better without any distractions. You also didn’t want her to think your whole friendship was based on you having a crush on her, so it was best you just kept quiet.

Paige, in return, was also too scared to tell you about her crush. She loved the friendship you two had and didn’t want to ruin it just because she’d caught feelings. She was afraid that every glance, every touch, and every soft smile was just you being a good friend. She couldn’t bear to lose you after everything you’d done for her, so she kept her mouth shut.

Azzi, being the observant friend she is, immediately knew about both of your feelings when she’d “caught” you two asleep on the couch, holding each other close. She made it her mission to get you two together. She started off by trying to convince Paige to confess, but that didn’t work out well, seeing as the blonde was too scared and always shrugged her off. Her next plan was to try to make you confess, knowing you were the bravest person she knew. That sadly also didn’t work, seeing as you were too considerate of others to think about your own feelings when you knew Paige could end up getting hurt. 

So here she was, back on plan A. “Come onnn, P, she’s head over heels for you, I’m telling you!” The blonde rolls her eyes so hard it gives her a bit of a headache. “Azzi, please, we’ve been over this before, let it goooo,” Paige groans, feeling butterflies flutter in her stomach at the thought of you liking her back. “No! I’m not gonna let this go. You two mean so much to me, I just want you guys to be happy,” she says with a sad pout on her face. Paige lifts her head from where she’s lying on her bed to look at the brunette, and groans again at the kicked puppy look on her face. She could never say no to her when she made that face.

Paige sighs and stares at the ceiling for a moment. “...How sure are you?” She mutters, looking over at Azzi with desperation in her eyes. The brunette gives her a soft but excited smile. “110%, P. You know I wouldn’t say this if there was even a slight chance I was wrong.” The blonde’s cheeks turn a soft pink as a happy yet slightly embarrassed smile shows on her face. “Okay then, how do we do this?”

You’re hanging out with a friend when you hear the familiar ringtone go off. You excuse yourself for a moment, picking up the phone. “What’s up, P?” You grin. “Hey Y/N/N!” You can hear the smile in her voice. “You’re coming to our next game, right?” she asks. “Uhm, hello? It’s your first game back on the court, of course I’m coming,” you tease, sounding slightly offended she felt like she had to ask. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she chuckles, “jus’ wanted to be sure.” “I’ll be your biggest cheerleader, don’t even worry about it,” you promise. “Ight, I’ll hold you to that,” she replies before you two say your goodbyes.

When the day of Paige’s first game back arrives, you know the blonde is bursting with nerves. You meet up with her before the game to wish her good luck and to encourage her. Her leg shakes up and down as she bites her nails. Her eyes flit around the room as she nods along to what you’re saying, but you know she’s not listening. You roll closer to her, grabbing her hand and pulling it away from her mouth. You give it a gentle squeeze as she finally looks at you. “Don’t worry so much, P. You’ve been working your ass off for this moment, and you’re gonna do great, okay?” you say, trying to reassure her as much as you can. Her shoulders loosen as she finally takes in what you’re saying.

“Thanks, Y/N/N,” she mutters with a small smile. You give her a wink before you leave to wish the other girls good luck and to find your spot before the crowd starts filtering in. While Paige is extremely nervous about her first game back, she’s more nervous about what’s going to happen at halftime. She really hopes she won’t embarrass herself. She walks back over to her team, quickly going over everything again to make sure everything would go exactly the way she’d planned. 

The first quarter of the game flies by before she even knows it. She already scored 12 points, giving UConn the advantage. As she sits on the bench, listening to coach Geno, she looks around. Her eyes immediately find yours as you send her two thumbs up. She grins before locking back into the game. 

The second quarter goes by even faster, making Paige’s stomach clench with nerves. They were now 9 points ahead, so it was still anyone’s game. First, however, it was time for halftime. 

The blonde wipes her sweat on a towel, looking over at Azzi. The brunette gives her a reassuring smile before walking over to you. You don’t expect her to walk over but smile at her nonetheless. “Hey Y/N/N, how much do you trust me?” she grins. You raise an eyebrow at her, but the smile on your face doesn’t disappear. “With my life,” you reply. She sends you a beaming smile, giving your shoulder a squeeze as she wheels you onto the court. You chuckle as you ask her what’s going on. She simply says, “You’ll see.” 

Paige walks up to you, fiddling with her hands nervously. She bends down on one knee and starts talking, her voice quivering a little. “Y/N… I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” You open your mouth to tell her off, but she holds up her hand before you can say a word. “I know, I know, I don’t need to thank you… but I want to. When you entered my life, I was going through a very difficult time. I felt like I was drowning on dry land… But you? You were like my life buoy, not letting me sink. You’re this amazing, strong person, and you’ve made me want to be like you. To never give up and to look at life in a positive way, even when things go wrong.” She swallows harshly. You grab her hand and give it a squeeze, speechless at the girl's words. Your chest feels warm as your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of its cage.

“The past few months have meant more to me than you could imagine, and… I fell for you harder than I thought I ever could… So… I want to ask you this,” she says, still nervous but a bit more confident as she sees the adoration in your eyes. She stands up and accepts the flowers Nika gives her. She hands them to you as she steps aside. 

Your eyes tear up as you see the scene in front of you. The whole UConn team, as well as the opponent's team, are standing there. All holding various items. A few girls are holding cardboard signs with the words “Will you go out with me?” on them. Your free hand flies to your mouth as you look up at Paige. The blonde is already staring at you lovingly with a soft smile. You chuckle at the amount of love you’re feeling right now as you nod your head at her. You can barely hear the crowd cheer around you as you feel your blood rushing in your ears.

The star player’s smile becomes even wider as her eyes crinkle. She grabs your hand, placing a kiss on it as all players start making their way towards you. You get handed all kinds of gifts from the blonde. Your favorite book annotated by her, a Lego set you two had talked about getting, a new pack of expensive pencils, a guitar pick maker, and a bunch of other things. You feel so incredibly seen by her that you find it hard to keep your tears at bay.

Once you’ve received all the gifts and thanked Paige a bunch, you make your way back to your seat. You hear a few “congrats” aimed your way as fans smile widely at you. When you turn back to the court, you see the blonde already looking at you. She sends you a flirty wink, making you chuckle as you shake your head in amusement. While the circumstances of you two meeting weren’t the best, you thank your lucky stars that the universe guided you to the Paige Bueckers. UConn’s star player. The golden student. The future of women’s basketball. A legend in the making. The girl that stole your heart but gave you hers in return.

[maladaptivewriting]

since the tiktok ban, i've been seeing a lot of stuff where people blame americans for jegulus and i can't stop thinking about it. i don't know why people feel this way, but i am prepared to make an argument. so please allow me to make my case.

[also this is completely based on generalizations. i know americans that hate jegulus and love jily, and i know british people who hate jily and love jegulus]

so i've never been a jily girl. even years before i found jegulus, i never cared about that ship. i straight up didn't even know that people wrote fics about them specifically. (i actually still don't know if people do write fics about only them because i would never seek out something like that).

originally, i'd thought it was just because i only cared about the golden trio characters and occasionally sirius and remus, but the more i got into the marauders era, the more i realized that james and lily together were the standouts, i just really didn't care for them.

it got to the point where i only read fics that referenced jily if they were extremely background to the story (which they almost always were bc there is just not that much to say about them) or preferably if both of them were already dead and it was just remus, sirius, and harry who remained.

shortly after i really started getting into the fandom and writing for jegulus, i spoke to someone who hated jegulus and loved jily, and i told them that i'd always felt like james and lily were on the road to divorce before they died. this person was SCANDALIZED. they could not understand why'd said that.

now granted, this person was in their early twenties and in my experience, if you haven't lived long enough to see a lot of your friends go through divorces, then the idea that james and lily might divorce may seem crazy.

however, and this is where the american thing really comes in, i realized after this conversation why i felt that there was no way that james and lily were going to make it and that was specifically because of growing up a conservative christian bible belt ass place.

do you know how many couples i knew in high school who started dating their senior year even though they seemingly had nothing in common, had sex one time and didn't use protection because sex education is extremely limited down there, got pregnant, and had to have shotgun wedding?

so. fucking. many.

do you know how many of them are still married?

only one.

so when i see jily, two characters who have nothing in common beyond being gryffindors, get together, have a kid, and get married (not necessarily in that order) all within like two years, i know that the odds are not in their favor. those two aren't staying together. don't play with me.

now i don't know how people feel about young marriages in other parts of the world, especially in the uk, but i've spoken to a lot of americans, especially ones from the south, and so many of them have had the exact same experiences with their peers. i just can't help but wonder if that lends itself to less people being interested in jily.

i have other arguments to this, like that jily is not as entertaining as almost every other ship that james or lily could be involved in and americans being partial to entertainment above all else, or the american (and christian) obsession with the concept of redemption and self sacrifice making regulus a more compelling character than one that lived and died good (lily and james), but this was the one i wanted to focus on today.

[two-white-butterflies]

when he goes down on me

Description: A struggling accounting student meets a successful lawyer. A relationship blossoms. With a few social media excerpts.

Pairing: thranduil/reader

Warnings: age-gap

There was a saying around the school - only the accountings get the accountings. While all the students from the other majors were out partying and dancing until their heels hurt from jumping, the accountings were stuck memorizing business terms and calculating debits and credits until their fingers hurt from routinely tapping their calculators. It was a figurative hell on earth.

And you have always been fond of burning.

It was seldom to see you attend a party, but miraculously your schedule cleared up and there weren't any quizzes or lectures in the vicinity. "Are you already missing the comforts of Harvard?" your father teases and you crack a smile. "God, don't remind me of studying." You groaned while slumping on the leather couch.

You've almost forgotten about the comforts of your childhood home after being surrounded by flashing white lights and empty cans of redbull, comfort wasn't exactly in your vocabulary. "I'm just saying; you ditched school to attend the neighborhood gathering and you are cooped up in this humid living room, avoiding everyone who wants to talk to you." He emphasizes, encouraging you to come out.

"Please, those people saw me grow up. I hardly think that I'm missing out." You reasoned, returning your attention back to your cellphone. "- all they ever talk about is me getting married, or at least having a boyfriend." You added while scrolling past a TikTok video about some random guy bashing Crumbl cookies.

The people in your parent's close circle were typical upper-echelon folks whose only means of communicating with some 20+ year old is asking them about marriage. Of course, your usual reply would be that you are not seeing anyone and they'd blink at you like fucking reptiles. They can't fathom the idea that a young, intelligent and relatively good-looking (not ugly) woman still didn't have a husband.

It did make you happy that they found you interesting enough to have a husband but it was infuriating that being married was the only thing they cared about you. They belonged to a different time, you tell yourself before your mind drifts back into TikTok.

"We have a new neighbor, he's a good fellow but he's a little too young for our crowd. I don't think that he's old enough to relate to Geert's Hoover Deluxe jokes. You should talk to him, you've always had magic with your words." He encourages, and a sigh escapes your mouth. "Dad, I'm not talking to one of your golf buddies." You groaned. Maybe it was a mistake coming here.

You still needed to study for the licensure test, that test was something that you could not fail. It was the first step to your CPA to Lawyer plot-line, if you are unable to handle the pressure of the licensure exam then maybe you aren't equipped with Law School. Then, maybe you should just drop out and become a stay-at-home daughter like your other friend, Magnolia.

"He's a lawyer. He handled that case that you were fixated on, the one with the ballerina and her father. Of course, he defended the ballerina." He did his best to remember your teenage ramblings about Oonagh, the ballerina, and her treacherous ex-husband, Gilbert. "What?" You pry your attention away from your mobile phone. Johnson v Johnson was the court case that began your fascination with law, and the guy who defended Oonagh Johnson was in the same house as you! Goddamn.

Thranduil wanted to let the ground consume him whole. He's spent a lot of time with businessmen and world-leaders alike but BBQ with his neighbors was a different type of embarrassment. He couldn't relate to them in matters of American life or farming, and he honestly doesn't know enough about the outsourcing industry to make a decent connection with these folks.

Of course, he could relate to their wives about perfume, but he doesn't want to be that cunt who talks to random people's wives. He seriously wanted to go home, but then he sees a figure in his periphery. A woman with amazing hair, walking towards him and suddenly everything was happening in slow motion.

She takes a step, her hair moves along with her, the wind is her willing assistant and her lips turned upwards. A smile. Is she looking at me? He tries to hide the fact that he was looking over his shoulder. Maybe she's looking at someone behind me? He thinks, but then again, there was no one standing beside him, save the rose bush.

"Hey," you greet him and suddenly he finds himself leaning back into his true self. The confident defense attorney who charms everyone that he speaks to. "Hey?" He raises an eyebrow, as if he's teasing you. "My dad told me that you were the one who defended Oonagh Johnson back in 2012." You opened your mouth to speak.

Always straightforward. Time is gold.

"Yes, it was a terrible thing what happened to her." He breaths. The case seemingly close to his heart just like this case was to you. "I know that it sounds a little creepy but that is my favorite case in the history of the world. I was thirteen years old-" you rambled and he releases a breath that he was unaware that he was holding.

Thirteen years old in 2012. I feel so old. He muses.

"- I didn't know what I wanted to be, and then I saw you and Oonagh on the news. I knew then that I wanted to be in the same spot as you, defending women, minorities, children. I knew then that I wanted to give what was due. Justice." You finished rambling, he notices that smile on your face.

It reminded him of himself back in his rookie days, that hopeless glimmer in your eyes mirroring back to all the years before him. Some dreams remain dreams, and others turn into goals. "Well, that case is close to my heart. I don't think I've ever told anyone about this before but my mother was a victim of domestic abuse, her father was not a good man, and when I defended Oonagh, I felt some sort of retribution..." He pauses. I shouldn't tell this to a stranger.

"It is a different kind of power that you feel when you do something right. Yes, it is every citizen's right to defend themselves in the court of law whether or not they are guilty or innocent, but I think that you'll realize this when you do become a lawyer. It feels like a breath of relief when you bring true justice to the innocents." He continues. A feeling that feels so far from me now.

"Yeah, I don't know how I'll deal with choosing cases when I'm an actual lawyer but my dad says that I don't have to think about that until after I actually pass the bar." You chuckled nervously. He pries his attention away from his current woes, "Oh, are you studying law right now?" He inquired, his body leaning closer to yours.

"Oh no, I'm studying Accounting right now. It's my pre-law course." You informed, and he slowly finds himself respecting you. "I wish that I did something cool like that, my pre-law was Polsci and I wouldn't recommend it even to my worst enemy." He chuckles, his conscience floating away and instead is focused on you.

The shining starlight that has come to guide him away from this existential crisis. "I've heard a lot of things about that major. Some people say that it doesn't really equip you in law school, but the Polsci majors that I know are such cool people." You smiled, only beginning to realize that the man standing in front of you was h o t.

Hot with a capital 'H'.

He had a cleanly shaven face, and beautiful golden blonde hair that seriously rivaled those of the Targaryens that you watch on HBO. (You are still stuck in Season 5 of GOT due to being on studying jail.)

"That major did not help me in law school. It gave me an overview but law school is ultimately a different demon." He warns, staring deep into your eyes. She looks good, he thinks. "Well, hopefully if I pass next year I'll be able to apply for law school. Are there any universities that you recommend?" You ask and he ponders.

"I finished my degree in Harvard-"

"Fuck," you interrupted him. "No, I'm sorry." You gasp.

"I study in Harvard right now. It's just I found it - I don't know." You mentally cringe, accepting the fact that you've let go of your chance with dating this hot lawyer man. "It's alright, I was gonna say to not study in Harvard. Stanford is much better. I've found really formidable opponents who finished their degree in Stanford." He smiles, finding your quirks to be adorable.

It is not everyday that a woman walks into his life and talks about his best case to date, and then laugh about stupid stupid things. "The food isn't really that great to be honest," you mumbled. "Some things never change." He mused. "Oh wait, I'm sorry. I haven't introduced myself. I'm Y/N Saint." You offer your hand to shake and he takes it.

"Thranduil Greenwood." He smiles while shaking your hand. He lets go of it, and then remembers. "Daniel's your father?" He asks. "Yeah, but he's not really my biological father, he adopted me when he married my mom." You provided a bit of a background information.

He tries to make the conversation longer, in the hopes that you wouldn't walk away from him or that you'd leave at least an email or a number or a facebook profile so that he'll have some way of communicating with you. "He's a nice guy." He compliments.

"He's more than nice," you smile.

Suddenly, your phone rings. "Oh damn, sorry. I really have to catch a plane, but it was so nice talking to you attorney. Um, do you have a phone or anything. I'd love to keep in touch." You turn the alarm off, and focus your attention back to him. He unlocks his iphone and hands it to you. You glance at his wallpaper. "It's my son." he answers, not bothering to hide that fact about him.

"You have a wife?" You tired to keep your tone nonchalant, but it comes out jealous and icky. "No, his mother left when he was born. Funny enough, I couldn't blame her anyways. I was twenty, she was nineteen and she had an art degree." He jests and you try your best to find an instagram app on his phone.

How old is this man anyways? All he had on his phone was whatsapp, imessage, a few apps that were there when you buy the phone, and then two different email apps (email for apple and gmail.) Which made you want to laugh at him, as it was adorable, but you decide to open his notes app. "I don't have any social media except for instagram so I'll just write my username down and hopefully you do have an Instagram at home." Your voice turns nervous at the end.

There was a 50/50 chance that Thranduil had an instagram. "Goodbye, it was nice talking to you." You greet, handing him his phone, but before he could reply - you sprint away.

yournamesaint: mornings like these...

liked by 891 others

>comments

ingridhorstefe: the type of thing u see before going to bed - yournamesaint: chug redbull and the bed becomes a theory - ingridhorstefe: id reply something smart abt management theory but my brain is fcking fried

"Thank you for helping me set up an Instagram account, Tauriel." Thranduil thanks his intern before taking a sip of his coffee. "I don't think that you should post anything for legal reasons, but I already fixed your profile and privated your account. I also told everyone in the firm to follow you, Legolas says he'll only follow you after you get 10 followers so everyone won't think that he's following a bot." Tauriel continues, and Thranduil has no idea what those words mean.

"It is about time that I enter the realm social media. I mean, it is one thing to not have social media but Atty. Elros has an instagram and he's literally fifty something." Thranduil jokes. "I did tell you to sign up, which reminds me, you should follow Atty. Alfred." Tauriel presses the 'follow' button on his screen.

"As much as I hate Atty. Elros he has an amazing feed." He jokes again, and Tauriel nods agreeing with him. "He's actually an excellent photographer, I've heard a story about him actually. I heard that he wanted to be a photographer at first but then had a change of heart because his twin brother became a neurosurgeon..." Tauriel informs.

greenwoodlaw_ has requested to follow you

yournamesaint wants to call you.

"Hello," he greets seeing your face on the other end of the line. "Hey, I'm surprised to see you with an instagram. I mean I'm not stalking you or anything, it just says 'new' on your profile." You found yourself explaining to him, and he responds with a laugh. "Tauriel, my staff, helped me make this account. I figured that it was about time that I make one, I mean even the old lawyers in the neighboring firm have their own social medias." His big eyebrows merged together.

"I was about to give you my phone number yesterday but I remembered that I didn't have a line. I wouldn't be able to call you or reply to the text messages." You reply uneasily. Your father has pestered you about getting a line since the moment you bought your phone, but you shook him off saying that no one texts or calls people in their mobile number anymore. You were wrong.

"I didn't really bother paying for that since it's a distraction." You settle your phone on the desk in front of you, not bothering to adjust it to an angle that'll make you look better. There is no use fighting against what you really look like. "I understand. Shouldn't you be studying?" He asks and you shake your head.

"I'm free, miraculously, but I'll start on some reviewers in an hour. Better safe than sorry." You inform.

"You must always be on your feet." He says.

"You sound a lot like my professor." You teased. "- but thank you for the advise, I shall use it well." You add.

Tauriel walks inside of his office, carrying a stack of files. "Oh, it looks like you've got a lot of work to do." You smile. Tauriel raises an eyebrow but he gives her a glance telling her not to ask any questions. "I guess this is goodbye. I'll call you again tomorrow."

"Goodbye,"

"Bye."

[shallyouobeyme]

For the “spicy” prompt im imagining Platonic Yandere Batfam discovering your internet history, and having a confrontation about how you’re far too young for such things (reader is a full adult, not that the Batfam sees it that way).

I sadly already have something written out for today, but I really love this idea so I decided that I'd just go into the concept a bit as well - I mean I make the rules to this so I might as well use that power.

Okay, so I don't really write smut as of now because I don't read it and I do have not a lot of real-life experience so I figure it might just be a lot of cringy blabbering. But let's go with the 'spicey' meaning that horny adolescents will probably think of when reading the word in the context of fanfiction.

Now you're probably somewhere in the span of 16-20 in this scenario, old enough to live independently on your own, but young enough that the batfam can somehow justify it in their mind to treat you like a precious, fragile, little toddler. Sure, some of them logically know that you're basically a grown-up, but with how much effed-up shit they see every day they don't really wanna admit that to themselves and rather chose to act all 'I do not see'. And while that's all fine and dandy for them to do, it doesn't change the logical facts. Fact number one: You grew out of binkies and blankies like a decade ago, for god's sake Dick stop trying to make me take ten naps a day with them. Fact number two: Like I said, you're kind of (definitely) an adult and assuming that you have not always been the coddled little Wayne-baby that the Batfam wants to see you as you've probably been exposed to adult things before and aren't sensitive with seeing them. Like, guys, I was reading the news daily before you crazy people kidnapped me - stop talking about international crises as if the countries are people who have minor disagreements, okay? Fact number three: there comes a time in an adult's life when they might be craving a somewhat more intimate partner in their life - and no, Damian, I don't mean the bestest friend in the whole world forever, I mean a guy or a gal or a nonbinary pal who can rock your shit, if you get my drift (never dare say that to Damian out loud tho, you will be having your mouth washed out with soap). So while it might be a giant oversight on your part to not realize that all your precious internet time is completely monitored, you still probably haven't expected to be sat down by Bruce, Dick, Jason and Alfred and get a lecture on how you're way too little to look up these kinds of things (you looked up TikTok videos and happened to watch a few with TikTokers dancing in slightly less covered clothing) and how your mind is too undeveloped to grasp these big things you searched for (you looked up a statistic on the rate of kidnapping victims to get killed) and how you should keep playing your safe games instead of these violent ones (you looked at a game trailer for Cyberpunk 2077).

All your arguing falls on deaf ears. They just don't wanna hear that you're not their little, innocent baby. The only good thing is that they don't think you have enough logical thinking skills yet to properly grasp the situation so you'll be punished very lightly (a month without internet privileges). Once you're allowed to go online again though, you'll have to make do with the special kiddy-pad they got you with all the safety features and parental controls installed. So yeah, might wanna get used to being without the internet from now on...

[squiddyfics]

fluorescent adolescent

thanos x f!reader

♡ you used to get it in your fishnets, now you only get it in your nightdress... ♡

description: you and thanos dated as teenagers. you're older now, and you should be wiser, but seeing him during a night out might just bring back your wild side.

18+ minors dni

warnings: nsfw, alcohol, sex, cheating, mentions of a controlling relationship (not with thanos dw yall)

a/n: this is one of my fav arctic monkeys songs and i tried to do the vibes justice so i hope you enjoy

bold+italicized signifies past tense

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You quietly sip a cup of tea, the reprieve of a quiet morning broken as you scroll through Tiktok. Your thumb hovers above the screen, and you can't quite bring yourself to pass by the video of a young woman joyfully dancing, her outfit reminiscent of ones you used to wear. After lingering for a moment, you move on.

It's your nineteenth birthday, and your friends have taken you out to celebrate. Your tennis skirt hugs your waist as you move through the crowded club, holding your friend's hand so as not to get separated from the group.

"Good morning," your boyfriend says as he walks into the kitchen, sitting down across from you at the small breakfast table. "What are you watching?"

A few drinks in your system now, you dance loosely, freely. You feel on top of the world in your platform boots, and you hardly notice the sweat adhering your baby hairs to the nape of your neck.

"Nothing, really," you say absentmindedly, taking another sip from your mug. "I'm just bored."

You stumble out the back door of the club, seeking fresh air. Instead, you find yourself in the smoking pit. A few people are scattered about, cigarettes hanging from their lips.

"You're always bored." Your partner's words are lighthearted, but they sink like a weight in your chest. It's true.

"Hey, angel." Your gaze is drawn to the man who spoke up from beside you, and you see him there, leaning against the wall. He takes a drag from his cigarette. Backlit by hazy outdoor lighting, he looks like something of an angel himself. "Want a smoke?"

Without so much as another glance in your direction, your boyfriend gets up, scarfing down a quick breakfast before leaving to get ready for work. There are no lingering looks, no sweet words exchanged between the two of you.

You shake your head, though you take a step closer to him. "I'm not out here to smoke; it's just way too hot in there."

Your boyfriend is several years older than you, and his wild days, if he ever had any, are far behind him. He'd much rather recline in his armchair at the end of the night, watching the evening news.

The tall man smirks down at you. "It just got a lot hotter out here, too."

The front door shuts as your boyfriend leaves for work.

"So you don't smoke, hm?" he asks. You shrug and delicately pluck the cigarette from his fingers, taking your first ever puff. His eyes widen at the cloud of smoke you blow in his direction.

Your commute to work doesn't take as long, so you have a bit more time at the house. You don't use that extra time to do much; you simply relish being on your own.

"You don't know how fucking sexy that was." Then his hand is on your waist, his lips are on your lips, his tongue is in your mouth.

On the train, your mind returns to the Tiktok you saw, how it reminded you of your own youth. Reminded you of him. You grimace with the effort of shoving those thoughts out of your mind. You laboriously replace them with thoughts of your partner.

Soon, you're in his apartment with your hands in his hair and your legs wrapped around him. Your fishnets rip when he throws you on his bed.

You sit in your cubicle, typing approximately one word a minute. Thoughts of your old flame always do this to you, and you hate yourself for it. Your life is comfortable now, stable. So why can't you stop reminiscing?

The man fiddles hurriedly with your clothes, attempting to rid you of them. He stops momentarily when he gets to your fishnets. "They're already ruined," you say. "Just rip them."

It's not like your old life was better than the one you have now. This is what you tell yourself. More interesting doesn't mean better.

He groans lowly as he rips a hole in the center of your fishnets and shoves your panties to the side. He enters you roughly, then kisses you, catching your moan in his lips.

"Hey." You jump slightly as your gaze shoots to your coworker; you didn't notice her approach your desk. "Namra and I are going out for drinks after work. Do you want to come?"

It doesn't take long for him to make you cum. The man knows what he's doing, there's no doubt about it. "That's it, angel. You look so pretty when you cum."

You drum your fingers on your desk, mulling it over. "That sounds fun, but I'll have to ask my boyfriend first. I'm not sure if he wants me to stay in with him tonight."

You writhe underneath him as he drives you beyond your high, the overstimulation causing your back to arch. You grasp wildly at his hair, earning a deep moan from him.

You don't want to ask; you know what the answer will be. Your partner considers himself above anything like that, and he expects the same from you. You know it's not right, you know you shouldn't have to ask a man for permission. Maybe you won't this time.

"You like that?" you ask through heavy breaths, tugging on the hair at the back of his head. The sound that escapes him this time is more desperate; a whimper. "Is that gonna make you cum? I want it. I want it all over my tits."

By the time your lunch break rolls around, you find the two coworkers who've invited you out. They smile as you join them, and their smiles widen when you tell them you've decided to come tonight.

When he pulls out and finishes on your chest, you gaze up at him, worried you may have just fallen in love.

A pang of guilt creeps up on you. You didn't ask your boyfriend like you said you would. What will he think when you come home late? How small will he make you feel?

The two of you are panting, laughing, sweating, falling back on the bed. He cleans you up with tissues before nestling you under his arm. "I never got your name, by the way, angel."

Perhaps you should shoot him a text to let him know. Perhaps you owe him that courtesy.

He grins when you tell him your name. "A pretty name for a pretty girl."

Your boyfriend may not be perfect, and he may not be the most exciting man around, but at least he's not Subong.

"I'm Subong."

However, you make no move to grab your phone and send a text. You deserve this. You deserve a night of fun to break up the monotony of your mundane life.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

This is not what you had in mind when you imagined after-work drinks. This isn't a casual bar; it's a full-on club. You already feel a headache coming on at the obnoxious techno music vibrating the floor.

"Let's go get shots!" Namra says excitedly, dragging you to the bar.

You're well aware that your coworkers are a couple years younger than you, but you didn't realize the utter difference in your lifestyles until now. As grateful as you are for the night out, you're equally grateful that this isn't a typical scene for you anymore.

After all, you're no longer nineteen, no longer able to subject yourself to ear-splitting music nightly while throwing back overpriced drinks. You're no longer willing to put up with a childish partner like Subong, a wannabe rapper whose insatiable need for attention drove him to fish for compliments from other women if you looked away from him for even a minute.

And the fights, god, the screaming matches you'd get into with him. You were both stubborn, an unstoppable force versus an immovable object. You try not to remember the post-fight sex, though, as it might just trick you into missing him.

The three of you clink your shot glasses together. The other women gag and shake their heads as they down theirs, and their eyes widen upon seeing you take yours with ease. You just laugh.

"You have no idea the kind of girl I used to be."

A couple drinks later, you're leaning against the bar as you watch your coworkers dance, not quite drunk enough to join them like you once would've. Still, you're shocked at how much the alcohol is hitting you; your tolerance isn't what it used to be.

It's hard to focus on anything in the sea of clubgoers, but like a moth to a flame, your gaze is captured by a flash of purple in the corner of your eye. You turn, and your heart sinks into your stomach at the sight of a once-familiar smirk.

Subong.

He's on the dance floor, friends at his side as he chats up a group of women. Typical. You hope this is enough of a distraction for him, that he won't see you. You've never been more thankful for your drab office attire.

You spin around, gluing your eyes to the wooden bar top. You just have to wait for him to move out of sight. Then you'll tell your coworkers you have to go, and slip out before he notices you.

"Hey, angel."

You thought your hands couldn't get any shakier, but you were wrong. Slowly, dreadfully slowly, you look up, locking eyes with Subong, who's now leaning over you.

"Wow," he says, taking a step back. "You look so... dull."

You scoff. "Thanks. You're as sweet as ever."

You're not surprised at his blunt words; he's always lacked a filter. It only stings because you know it's true.

"Sorry," he says with a laugh. "But come on, you know what I mean. You're still gorgeous, but... where did you go? The real you; where is she?"

"Go back to your friends, Subong," you spit. "You don't get to come up to me and start telling me who the 'real me' is. Maybe this is the most authentic I've ever been."

He shakes his head, still smiling, unfazed by your harsh tone. "Nah. This isn't you. I know you."

"You know a version of me who thought you were boyfriend material. That girl was clearly an idiot."

On your other side, you feel a dainty hand wrap around your forearm. Looking over, you see Namra standing there. She leans in and whispers in your ear, "Is this guy bothering you?"

"It's fine," you tell her. "He's my ex."

She turns to get a better look at him, and her jaw drops. "Wait... Thanos?"

"The legend himself," Subong says, flashing his colorful nails.

Namra stares at you in disbelief. "You dated Thanos?"

You cringe. You know how much Subong loves a good stroke to the ego, and you hate that he's getting that satisfaction. That's why you'd never tell him that you already know about how his career has blown up. You'd never tell him that even though you have him blocked on everything, you still see posts from people who are obsessed with him.

"I guess you were right; we really don't know who you used to be." She still looks starstruck. "I'm going to head back to the dance floor now that I know you're in good hands."

"I'm really not," you say, but she's already leaving. You catch her discreetly taking a photo of Subong as she walks away.

"It's always nice to meet a fan," he says, and you grimace at his cocky expression.

"She never said she was a fan," you say. "Just because she knows your rapper name doesn't mean she likes your music."

Suddenly he's smirking down at you, looking very pleased with himself. "You know my rap name? So you've been keeping up with me?"

"No," you lie, but you feel your face heat up. "I just assumed, since that's what she was calling you."

"Sure, angel." He chuckles. "So, now you know what I've been up to. What about you? Any projects in the works?"

He always used to compliment you on how creative you were. Despite his many, many flaws, he was your biggest supporter, believing you could make a name for yourself.

You shake your head. "I'm in the corporate world now."

"Ah, you joined the rat race."

"I wanted to make money."

"And I wanted to make art."

"I'd hardly call your music art," you say, and you know it's mean, but you can't bring yourself to regret it. You want to hurt him. You want him to feel an ounce of what you felt when he called off your relationship so suddenly all those years ago.

His mind seems to gloss right over the intended insult, though. "You listen to my music?"

"Fuck off." You know your face is beet red now, and you can't think of a better retort.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he says with another laugh. "Seriously, though, tell me what you've been up to."

You shrug. "Working, mostly. You know, I don't really want to be having this conversation."

"You must not be in a relationship," he says. "You're never this uptight after a good fuck."

Your eyes widen at his audacity, and you do your best to ignore the fluttering feeling his words stir in you. "For your information, I am in a relationship. Not that it's any of your business."

"Well, he's obviously not treating you right."

"Leave," you urge him; it's all you can manage to say.

"Or what?"

You hate how close his face is getting to yours, and more than that, you hate that you're not moving away. Even after all this time, his presence is entrancing.

He's so close that you can feel his breath, and you hope he can't hear how shaky your own breaths are as you mutter, "Why don't you go find those girls you were hitting on?"

You want to slap the stupid smirk off his face. "Aw, are you jealous?"

"You wish."

"Yeah, baby, I do."

You ball your hands into fists, trying to distract yourself from the wave of lust coursing through your body. He shouldn't be allowed to have this effect on you. It's ridiculous.

Your brain is in a haze as he leans in farther, nearly closing the gap between your faces. His lips brush against yours, and your stomach does fucking cartwheels.

Then he's crashing his mouth against yours, and you kiss him back without thinking. It's muscle memory; your lips move in sync like they were never apart.

It takes a moment for you to come back to reality, but when you do, you push him away. "What's wrong with you? I have a boyfriend."

"You weren't kissing me like someone who has a boyfriend."

You turn and point at your two coworkers, who thankfully aren't looking in your direction. "Listen, see those two girls over there? I work with them, and they know I'm in a relationship. I can't be doing this shit in front of them."

He places a hand on your waist. "Let's go somewhere more private, then."

"You can't be serious." You take a step back from him. "I'm not doing this."

He steps forward, again shrinking the distance between you to where you can feel the magnetic pull between your bodies. He leans down, his lips ghosting over your ear as he whispers, "It doesn't have to be a big deal. I just want to make you cum, angel. You deserve it."

You despise this man. You despise the way your knees nearly buckle at his words. You despise whatever spell he's put you under to have you nodding weakly and allowing him to lead you to the back of the club.

He grips your hip firmly as he guides you into the bathroom. He's already kissing you again before you even get into a stall, but once you're inside, he locks the door and presses you against it.

His sloppy kisses trail down to your neck as his hands desperately roam your body, squeezing your tits, grabbing your ass, feeling every part of you he's been without for so long.

Subong's touch brings you back to life, and you swear you feel nineteen again. You bite your lip to stifle a moan as he kisses back up your neck and jaw.

"Don't hold back, pretty girl," he mumbles against your skin. "Let them hear you. Let everyone in this club know who makes you feel this good."

Your head tips back when he grinds into you, and you grab his shoulders for support. What has he done to you?

"Let's... let's just get this over with," you say, a poor attempt at disinterest. You know he can see right through you, see how much you want this.

You gasp as Subong lifts your skirt and slips his hand inside your underwear. He raises his eyebrows. "Holy shit, baby, you're soaked. You really needed this, hm? When's the last time you came?"

"Shut up."

"A long time then, huh?"

This time you can't hold back the moan that escapes your lips when his fingers find your clit. He rubs in slow circles, a taunting look in his eyes.

"Faster," you say, grabbing his jaw to pull him in close to you. "If you're going to do this, do it right."

"Damn, you don't know how to have fun anymore."

Despite how annoying he is, you kiss him. You run your fingers through his hair as you trail kisses along his jaw. When your lips find his neck, he's moaning too.

You reach down to grab his bulge, and laugh softly at the way he bucks into your hand. It never did take much for you to get him going.

"Fuck," he mumbles into your hair.

He's still working his fingers on your clit, and it's beginning to drive you insane. You unzip his jeans, pulling out his cock and stroking him.

"Please fuck me," you whine, unable to handle the teasing any longer. "Please."

"God, I love hearing you beg for it," he says. "Do you get this worked up for that boyfriend of yours? Do you beg for his cock the way you beg for mine?"

Subong lifts you with your back against the door, pulling your gray pencil skirt up over your hips. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders, desperately bringing him as close to you as possible.

He pulls your underwear to the side and rubs his tip against your entrance. Impatient, you rock your hips forward in an attempt to bridge the gap between your bodies.

"You look so pretty when you're needy," he says, his eyes flicking back and forth between yours.

His lips meet yours right as he pushes himself inside you. You moan in sync with him, and you can tell by the way his grip on your thighs tightens that it feels just as blissful for him as it does for you.

You hate to admit it to yourself, but you missed this. You really missed it. None of the partners you've had since Subong have had made you feel quite like he does. It's different with him.

He breaks your kiss and leans back to watch himself pound into you.

"Look at you, taking my cock like you were made for it. Does your boyfriend fit this perfectly inside you? Does he make you feel this good?"

You simply moan in response. He grabs your chin and leans in again, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

"Tell me, baby. Who makes you feel this fucking good?"

"You, Subong. Only you."

When he kisses you again, his lips are softer, gentler. There's a tenderness in the action that reminds you of why you once loved him. He drops his head on your shoulder as he continues thrusting into you, and you claw at his back through his shirt.

His steady pace continues, and like waves crashing against a rocky shore, you can feel him wearing down your resolve. A warm feeling begins to bubble up inside of you, and you know it won't be long before he brings you to your climax.

"Keep going," you breathe. "Just like that."

Even the kisses he leaves on your neck are sweeter now. "You feel too fucking good. I'm not gonna last long."

"Neither am I," you manage to gasp out between moans.

Subong lifts his head again and presses his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes as he fucks you.

"You're perfect," he whispers. "So goddamn perfect."

His words send you over the edge, and you become a whimpering, writhing mess as shocks of pleasure wrack your body. Your legs wrap even tighter around him, forcing his entire length inside you.

Subong's face flushes, and he groans loudly. "Oh my god. I—fuck."

His hips still as he cums inside you. He keeps you in that position, hoisted against the stall door with his cock inside of you, as you both recover, breathing heavily.

When he finally pulls out of you and puts you down, you miss the feeling already. You look down to adjust your clothes as he does the same, and while you do, the reality of the situation begins to set in.

What have you done?

"Hey." Subong places a hand on your jaw and tilts your head up to look at him. "What are you frowning for? I thought I fucked that out of you already."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, your magic dick can cure anything."

"I know, that's what I'm saying." He laughs at his own words before pulling himself together. "Okay, no, seriously. What's bothering you?"

"What do you think?" you ask. "I just cheated. I can't believe myself."

He shrugs. "He doesn't deserve you anyway."

"How do you know? You have no idea who he is."

"No one deserves you," he says. "I sure as hell didn't, but at least I could actually make you cum."

Before you can think of an argument against him, he leans down, planting one last kiss on your lips. Then he moves aside, unlocking the door.

He steps out, but turns around to look at you. "If you ever want to do this again, I'm just an unblock-button away."

With that, he walks off, leaving you with your chest heaving and your mind reeling. It takes you a good few minutes to collect yourself as you lean against the stall wall. When you do finally stand upright again, your legs feel like rubber.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you leave the bathroom. Your makeup is smudged, and your hair looks insane. You do your best to smooth out your skirt while you walk, but it’s difficult to do anything when your legs are shaking so much.

Your appearance has clearly changed since you entered the club tonight, but something inside you feels different too. You feel lighter.

You feel free.

[adventuringblind]

is oscar the only driver you do autistic!reader for? if not can I request lando x daniel x autistic!reader.

any situation is fine I don't mind 😊

My love, my life, and nerodivergent partners in crime

Daniel Riccairdo x reader x Lando Norris

Genre: angsty fluff (I think)

Summarry: How Daniel managed to keep two nerdiverdent young adults in line... nobody will ever know

Warnings: Lando is ADHD coded, and you can't change my mind (and he's dyslexic anyway), AGE GAP, Max loves to tease

Notes: I am officially only taking requests for poly reader inserts at this time. Also, do Lando and Daniel have a ship name?!?! I need this information for my masterlist, please, and thanks.

Masterlist

Everyone always wondered why Daniel Ricciardo trailed behind Lando Norris and his girlfriend by three steps. People have theorized its because he's thirdwheeling. Some say the pair doesn't pay attention to him.

The real reason, though? It's his way of showing he cares in the paddock.

Max teases him about it all the time and is the only one who gets away with it. The two younger are, however, a chaotic mess. They can not make it from one place to another without something happening. So Daniel trails behind them a few steps to make sure they make it to their destination.

It's certainly wasn't an ideal way to get together. Especially because Daniel is older than both by more than is socially acceptable by most.

Ironically, none of them were together when Daniel started at McLaren. An Australian who smiles a lot, a Brit who is loose lipped, and a shy little psychologist who hates talking until you get her on driver brains and how they work. What could possibly go wrong?

She started work at McLaren the year before Daniel. Something in the strategy department. She watches and listens and somehow can predict what the drivers are going to do, what they need to perform, and how their opponents might respond. Lando says it's a superpower. Daniel says she's autistic and watches how people behave for a living (she agrees with him).

The three of them got along better than anyone wants to admit. The world saw then as awkward and dysfunctional. Which wasn't a lie, but it's also just their combinations of personalities.

Daniel picked up on it first. The stolen glances and blushed cheeks. Then, drunk confessions happen. Neither of the younger two like drinking. Which is ridiculous, in Daniel's opinion. Or maybe it was ridiculous because he's the one who drunkenly confesses to the pair while they attempt to get him back to his room.

Supposedly, Max was there and heard everything. Daniel denies this relentlessly.

Lando picked up on the confession, confronted him about it, and then awkwardly kissed him on his tip toes (he was shorter then).

The biggest hurdle was the female. The one who studies people. The one who can predict what Daniel is going to have for lunch on Friday at two because he likes to eat later.

She's clueless.

Lando tries to tell her. Daniel attempts sober. She doesn't get it.

The two have to put it in the form of a business meeting and tell her until she gets it. That seems to work as they end up going on a date post confession.

If he's being honest, half the time love them is really just making sure they are getting along with the world. Not people, the environments they end up in (which often includes the people).

So Daniel walks three steps behind them. The people tease on socials. They edit him in tiktoks. But he could care less.

He loves his two nerodivergent partners. He loves their little quirks and they way they see the world. So Daniel determines he's okay being behind them. Because he loves them and wants nothing more than to watch out for his partners in crime.

[pers1st]

people help the people

pairing: lucy bronze (platonic) x reader

notes: mentions of suicide, not really ahappy ending, whole lotta angst, don't read if you're not in a good place.

i lost my best friend to suicide about a year ago and it's genuinely been the hardest thing of my life to go through, and even though i feel incredibly selfish for comparing my pain to hers, i just hope that everyone who's in a bad place will feel better soon. your death will hurt people, even if you don't believe it. my messages are always open !!

“Heartbreaking news have hit the football community earlier this morning as Arsenal have confirmed the death of young defender, Y/N Y/L/N. The club has stated that Y/L/N, who also played for the Lionesses, was found dead in her apartment late last night. Her death has been ruled as suicide. Other than that, both the club and the FA have asked for privacy as they deal with this tragic loss. The matches of this week will take place as usual, though the teams have agreed collectively to wear black armbands, along with having a minute of silence ahead of the match’s begin.”

The internet was a cruel place, Lucy realized a week after your death. There were countless articles, invasive messages, offensive comments about how and why your presence had been tragically ripped away from this world. She didn’t understand - how could she? Lucy liked to believe that the two of you had a real bond, with you only being nineteen years old and looking up to Lucy as if she was a Goddess, following her every step, studying her every move, clinging onto her every word as if she spoke a prayer. The admiration wasn’t one-sided, either. Lucy looked up to you. How could she not? You were so young, and faced with so much adversity - the fact that you were as professional as you were at such a young age, you impressed Lucy. You had. Until Keira had filled her in on the news ahead of a training session at Barcelona, shattering Lucy’s heart in the process. You had reached out to Lucy a lot, but never about anything this serious. You had told Lucy a lot of things, but nothing grave enough a reason to take your own life. 

Admittedly, she knew the odd joke you had made - when you had slipped on the ball in front of the whole team, crashing down onto your stomach and banging your head enough to leave a glaringly obvious bump on your forehead, only to realize that the media staff had caught the moment and posted it to TikTok mere moments later. You had said, then, that you might as well have offed yourself. Lucy had laughed. Leah, who had been standing closeby, had laughed. You had laughed as you said it, but the words didn’t leave Lucy’s head anymore. You had said it. Right in front of her. How could she not have noticed?

It took minutes for Lucy’s face to be drenched in tears, hours until she would leave the medical room, which Keira had cleared and led her into, knowing very well that Lucy would not want anyone to see her raw emotions, days until Lucy returned to training, and months for anyone in the football community to address the situation. Mental health. Mental illness. Lights and shadows that came with being exposed to such brutal schedules, invasive comments, being shown off for everyone to see while no one ever required to know anything substantial. People wanted funny comments, smiles, laughter. No one ever cared about the weight dragging any players down, until it was too late - Lucy realized, as everyone and their mother seemed opposed to even speaking your name, only that energy into  searching, very openly, both in comment sections or live on broadcasted TV, for the reason you had left life behind. Lucy searched for it too, though more secludedly.

She re-read your messages for hours, in the little light the moon provided as it fell through the cracks of her bedroom window, deciphering each and every letter, pronouncing the words out loud in different tones, scrolling through your social media to search for any clue. You had had your fair share of problems- you had told Lucy about them. You hadn’t been a big fan of the fans seemingly taking property of you. You hadn’t been ready for the pressure that you would be put under after another one of your defenders was injured and you were re-called from your loan to step into the position immediately. You hadn’t dealt well with the lack of your parents’ presence. Though you had still lived with them, they had rarely attended your matches, always able to come up with an excuse, one that you believed. You had defended them, shielding your family from Lucy's criticism when you had let her know, in another disappointed text message, that they hadn’t been able to make it. You hadn’t wanted to accept the fact that they simply weren’t interested in your career, and Lucy had accepted that. 

Now, though, she wondered whether you had silently accepted it, and been too ashamed to admit it. Lucy knew that it wasn’t your fault - you had been the biggest ray of sunshine, even through your difficulties. You had managed to put a smile on everyone’s face, even though you had always been a little shy. You had been sweet, and kind, and gentle. Had Lucy been your parent- she would’ve let everyone know, would’ve shown you off to the world with pride, would’ve been there for everyone of your big moments. She had managed to fly out for the Conti Cup final, together with Keira, to watch you win the second domestic trophy in your senior career, only this time it was as a key-player rather than a super-sub. 

Lucy was never really able to figure out your exact reasoning - perhaps that was the deal with mental illness. It was an illness. Perhaps there was no reasoning, perhaps the whole point of being ill was the fact that a healthy person would never be able to grasp the darkness that clenched your soul and inevitably drove you to death. If Lucy had learned one thing, though, it was the fact that she was never going to let anyone feel like you must’ve, ever again.

She had seen your parents during the funeral, had witnessed what your death had done to the people, who, though she never really liked them, had raised an absolutely incredible girl. She had seen your room, per her parents request, had seen the blood stained tiles on your bathroom floor, had heard your mother’s mumbled apology for not being able to clean it all. She had seen where you had spent your very last minutes, and she had thought about what must’ve been going on through your head, and it had almost suffocated her. And that was how she found herself here - in a studio in London on her rare off day, with Sky Sports, in an interview room that felt uncomfortable, a seat that pressed into her back, and a microphone in her sweaty hands. 

“I just think that mental health is so, so important. I don’t know what it’s like to feel like… to feel like there’s no way out anymore, but I do know what it feels like to lose a person to their illness. It’s brutal. It makes you think you’ve failed them, and it makes you want to wish you had done more. I don’t want anyone to experience that.”

Lucy swallowed thickly, glancing at the reporter next to her. The man was kind, he handled the interview with delicacy. Your death had shocked the world, and by now, people knew to be respectful. Enough time had passed. Everyone had gotten over the initial shock. Everyone was left behind with that same distaste in their mouth and a hole in their stomach. People were delicate, when they mentioned you. They were still wearing black armbands in the WSL, and Lucy still wore the bracelet she had been given by your parents, taping it up for every match, letting any of her lioness teammates kiss her wrist whenever they scored. 

“Is that why it’s so important to talk about this, to you?”

“Yeah, it’s definitely part of it. But I think most of all, I think we need to speak about it for Y/N. I think if we’d had this kind of open conversation a few months ago, she would’ve maybe reached out, you know. If I had educated myself on the topic better, maybe I could’ve seen the signs. I think it’s more for the people who feel the way she felt. If we can make even a single person reach out for help when they initially wouldn’t, I think it’s paid off.”

The man nodded. 

“It’s just… you know. There’s always another way. Even when you don’t feel like it. I don’t know what it’s like to go through suicidal tendencies, but I do know what it’s like to feel sort of, hopeless. And I know that whatever happens, the world is a better place with you in it. Suicide is such a cruel way to go. I’ve wondered a lot, you know, whether she’s happier now, but I don’t think she is. Y/N had so many ambitions, so many dreams. She had such a bright future and yeah, for a mental illness to rip that away from her, I don’t think I’ll ever be okay with that.”

Lucy sniffed, the tears dwelling in her eyes by now. She had never spoken about your death publically. No one had, not exactly. Sure, there had been underlying comments, minutes of silence and the odd mention of your name, but people had been cautious to actually speak about the situation. She couldn’t blame them, because fuck- this hurt. She saw your face whenever she closed her eyes. She heard your voice whenever she couldn’t sleep, your laughter was engraved into her brain. There would not be a day in her life that she didn’t miss you. It hurt. A lot. The realization that you weren’t just a few countries away, that you wouldn’t call her back later, that you wouldn’t call her after an important match or visit her in Barcelona like you had said you would.

“You’ve been kind of hesitant to agree to this interview. Why do you think that is? I mean, no one has really spoken about Y/N’s death as openly as you have.”

“Yeah, I think it’s difficult. To admit this kind of pain. I mean- it shouldn’t be, you know? I think it’s important to speak about this kind of loss and all the hurt that comes with it. Not out of a place to put blame, I’d never blame her. But just to, yeah, make people realize how bad this kind of loss hurts. How much people miss her, because we all miss her, even though some people are hesitant to say it out loud.”

“How do you feel about people being so hesitant?”

“I don’t think you can blame them, you know. Grief looks different for anyone. And I guess I’m a fixer kind of person. I want to fix things, and even though I’ll never be able to, you know, fix this, I do hope that by speaking up about this, I can potentially save someone from doing the same thing. Let people know that mental health should never be a taboo, encourage people to speak up before it’s too late. Because the world will miss you, even if you don’t think it will. The world is a different place without you in it”, she concluded, though she was mostly speaking to you.

It was true. The world was different, now that you were gone. Your friends- mostly the younger girls in the Arsenal squad, seemed to be less talkative. Arsenal was a different place- Leah had told Lucy during your funeral. Everyone was a little less talkative, the loss hanging heavy over the team. Kim worried a lot, about the younger ones, whereas the older, more experienced players, dealt with the same kind of guilt Lucy felt. 

Barcelona was different too, though you had never played there. Alexia and Patri seemed to be checking on everyone a little more frequently, holding the team together, making sure everyone was okay. Lucy wasn’t, of course, though her team tried their best to help her move forward.

She did, eventually. England camps became less heavy, and when England won the Euros in 2025 again, during Lucy’s last match, she held up your shirt proudly, keeping the medal that had your name engraved in it, without shedding a single tear. When Arsenal won the Super League that year, they did the same thing. Lucy still felt a pinch in her chest everytime one of your teams reached another milestone, because she had wanted you to experience those kind of things. You deserved to experience your first league title, your second Euros, but more than anything-

She envisioned the life you could’ve lived, away from football. You deserved to fall in love, to visit Barcelona and every other place in the world you would’ve wanted to. You deserved to move out of your parents home into your first ever flat, you deserved to get a kitten and name it something ridiculous, the way you had always planned. You deserved to feel the rays of sun on your skin on the odd day it didn’t rain in London, you deserved to go on another trip to Ibiza and terrorize the rest of the girls in the club for another night. You deserved to be a bridesmaid at a wedding, the way you had always wanted to. You deserved a lot more than dying at nineteen. Everyone did. And Lucy would spend the rest of her career, potentially the rest of her life, making sure that people who felt the same way you had would feel a little less alone, a little more hopeful, would live a little longer. Anything in her power. She would do it all.

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Olympics AU - Village Shenanigans Collection

Masterpost

Author's Note: Don't worry, I'm working on Event Finals Part 2 and plan to have it out early next week at the latest. But in the process of taking drabble requests, I accidentally combined them all into this little series of drabbles about the boys doing random shit around the Village and Bucky recording it all for TikTok (cause of course he does). I watched a lot of Athlete Village tiktoks for the sole purpose of writing this.

This all takes place before Bucky's event finals.

---

Gale Cleven doesn’t do social media. Not by choice, at least.

He posts on instagram semi-regularly because US Equestrian begs him to and Benny and Marge force him to. Even then, mostly it’s pictures of Whiskey. Many of them include him riding her, decked out in tack and clothing from some sponsor or another. Very very few posts exist, though, of just Gale. It’s not often that people get to see what he looks like or who he is outside of horseback riding.

Tiktok is a whole other beast that he refuses to approach. He has an account, sure. But there’s only a handful of videos on it, almost all of them from at least two years ago, and most of them posted at Marge’s prodding.

This is a problem for the newfound Gale Cleven – ahem, equestrian – fans of the world. After opening ceremonies, seeing Gale in all his beautiful, adorable, humble glory alongside America’s gymnastics darling, John Egan, people wanted to know who this man was. They flocked to his social media accounts, sharing what little they could across platforms and obsessing over every detail. Every hint of his lovely personality and every glimpse of his perfect body. But there’s just not enough Gale Cleven content out there. 

John has made it his personal mission to give that to the world.

For all that Gale doesn’t care for posting about his life on social media, Bucky documents his own Olympic experience like a second job. Everywhere he goes around the Olympic Village, he’s posting to his story or recording a short video, showing them his life as an Olympic athlete or giving tours of the amenities. “It’s my duty, as an athlete,” he tries to explain to Gale.

“To show them everything?” Gale asks skeptically, when he catches Bucky making a video of the food in the dining hall.

“Yes,” Bucky says.

All the gymnasts, really, are like that. Marge and Benny, too. And they’ve ganged up on Gale to the point that he has a social media presence even when he barely posts a thing.

—

One of the things Gale does bother to post on Instagram is the pictures they all take together in front of the giant Olympic rings. There’s a nice shot of Gale alone, looking like a goddamn model with his hair styled all messy, one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing absently at his chin as he poses in black jeans and a thin, navy blue USA sweatshirt. “When did the equestrians get so hot?” people will comment.

Adding fuel to the fire, there’s a sweet one of Gale, Benny, and Marge standing with their arms over each others’ shoulders in front of the rings. They all smile brightly at the camera, three young, attractive equestrians that America is falling in love with.

There’s several of Gale and Bucky together that find their way to the internet via one equestrian or gymnast or another. One of them standing side by side, Bucky’s arm around Gale’s shoulders like they’re just good bros. Then there’s the ones that aren’t very bro-like at all. Like the one where Bucky is kissing Gale on the cheek; the one where Gale is hiding his laughter by burying his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck; and the one where Bucky is holding Gale by the waist and they’re looking dreamily into each other’s eyes because they forgot there was a camera. 

Finally, there’s one of all of them together – three equestrians and all five male gymnasts. The cross-over that America never knew they needed but now can’t get enough of.

Gale simply posts the photos with a vague caption about making friends at the Games. Bucky, on the other hand, posts a whole tiktok documenting the series of events that transpired for each photo.  There’s a clip of Marge directing Gale, once again, like a model, having him put his hands in and out of his pockets, turn this way and that, run a hand through his hair. Gale pouts and tells Marge that this is ridiculous. Marge tells him that people will love it (she’s right). 

Bucky can be heard calling out to him from off screen. “Lookin’ good, Buck!” 

Cue the fangirls freaking out about Bucky calling Gale ‘Buck.’

There’s a clip of Bucky turning to Gale after their little photo session and kissing him right on the mouth, making Gale blush. 

Then there’s several clips of the gymnasts climbing all over the rings in every way possible, standing on them, hanging from them, trying to do different gymnastics holds on them. In one iconic photo that will be shown during their Today Show interviews and circulated across various Team USA accounts, Bucky manages a near perfect Maltese inside the green ring on the right while Curt holds himself up in a straddle on top of the black one in the middle. Croz and Alex hang from the red and blue ones on the ends while Brady does an awkward L sit, having to duck his head, inside the yellow one on the left. In the background of the video, Gale can be heard saying “Please don’t fall!” And Bucky, still in a maltese, yells back, “It’s fine, doll.”

Cue the fangirls freaking out about Bucky calling Gale ‘doll.’

—

Gale watches Bucky with an eyebrow raised as he pans the camera over to him. They’re sitting at one of the tables in the Village dining hall, and Bucky has recorded most of their experience here this morning.

“You got a muffin, Buck?” he exclaims. For a second he’s so excited about it that the camera tilts and Gale goes half out of frame. 

“I did,” Gale says slowly. Bucky pouts behind the camera and Gale stifles a laugh. “I can get you one if you want?”

Bucky shakes his head. “I’m tryin’ to be good.” 

“Have you had one yet?”

“No,” Bucky whines. “I’m waiting until after all my events.” He stares longingly at the muffin over his phone, practically drooling as he zooms in with the camera. The only gymnast on his team who’s had one already is Croz, and he hasn’t shut up about it.

Gale smirks as he slowly, teasingly, unwraps the chocolate muffin. “A shame. They’re really good.”

He bites into it and closes his eyes, making a whole little show of how good it is. When he swallows, there’s a bit of chocolate stuck to his lip, and Bucky leans over to wipe it away with his thumb.

“You gonna post that?” Gale asks.

“You bet, babe. The people deserve to see it.”

Cue fangirls freaking out over Bucky calling Gale ‘babe,’ and Gale moaning over a chocolate muffin.

Gale rolls his eyes, but takes another bite, making eye contact with Bucky as he does so. “Really fuckin’ good,” he insists. Like teasing Bucky is some sort of payback for putting him on TikTok.

Bucky groans. “That’s it.” He leans across the table and grabs the muffin from Gale’s hand. He flips the camera as he bites into it, and practically moans as he gets his first taste of this cake from the fuckin’ gods. “Oh my god.”

Gale can be heard laughing in the background. “You’ve got chocolate on your mouth.”

The video stops right after Bucky says, “Well you better come help me get it off, then.”

—

“Oh look, it’s Mr. Silver Medalist, Buck Cleven.”

Bucky stands over Gale, who is laying on his back on the floor of the bedroom he shares with Benny. Gale looks up, unamused, when he sees Bucky recording. “Everyone’s calling me that ‘cause of you.”

Bucky shrugs innocently. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

Gale shifts a little to get more heat on his upper back and grimaces. “You gave me your name,” he grunts.

Bucky waves a hand dismissively. “What are you doing, Mr. Silver Medalist Buck Cleven?”

Gale sighs and looks away from Bucky, back up at the ceiling above him. “Laying on a heating pad.”

“Why?”

Gale works his jaw and looks back at Bucky like a petulant child. “Cause my back is messed up and I can’t move.”

Bucky nods thoughtfully behind the camera. “And why is that?”

“Cause I screwed it up during cross country and then did two rounds of show jumping.”

“And?”

“And then I did a weight workout the next morning anyways.”

Bucky makes a go on motion with his free hand. “And?”

“Went for a run around the village.”

“And?”

Gale’s look turns into a glare, but it doesn’t have any malice behind it. “And you told me not to do any of that.”

“You’re damn right I did,” Bucky says. He flips the camera around so he and Gale are both in the frame. “See, people? Even someone as perfect as Gale Cleven can be an idiot.”

He sets the phone down and props it against the wall so it will continue recording without him holding it. Then he sinks to his knees and crawls over top of Gale, laying on him with his head on his chest. A moment that will be screenshotted and shared a million times over

Gale turns his head and gives a long suffering look to the camera. That moment, on the other hand, of Gale staring, unamused, straight at the camera like he’s on the Office while Bucky clings to him, will become one of the most popular memes from the Games. “This isn’t helping,” he says.

“Shh. It’s fine.”

—

Gale is standing outside the dining hall where Bucky told him to meet them, but they’re a good ten minutes late. Gale would be debating whether or not he should text, but he’s been kept busy. In that time, just standing outside, he has traded pins with four different athletes. He now has Serbia, Great Britain, Ireland, and Austria, which he’s been looking for all week since it’s Whiskey’s birth place. 

He also has the phone number of an Irish diver with a sweet smile who Gale kind of thinks he might’ve flirted back with if he wasn’t already standing around waiting for the most beautiful guy in the world.

He’s waving goodbye to the cute redhead when he sees them approaching: three idiots on bicycles. Bucky is steering with one hand and awkwardly dragging along a spare bike with the other. He’s singing Blue Skies by Frank Sinatra, very off key, and he breaks into a wild grin when he sees Gale looking at him.

“Was starting to think you wouldn’t show up,” Gale says as they approach. “I almost went off with that Irish guy.”

Bucky’s jaw drops and he gasps as he slows to a stop. “You wouldn’t!”

“I’m still here aren’t I?”

Bucky frowns, wondering how serious Gale is being. But he shakes it off when he sees the way Gale is smirking at him. “I got you a bike!” he exclaims. He smoothly hops off his own bike, but the spare one falls over in the process with a loud clatter that gets some looks from the athletes wandering in and out of the dining hall. He rushes around to right it again as Curt, Croz, and Benny come to a stop beside him. “Did you know the Village has bikes?”

Gale nods, eyebrow raised. “I did.”

“Well come on then, we’re exploring.” Bucky shoves the extra bike forward and waits for Gale to take it. Gale shakes his head and chuckles, but he grabs the handlebars and swings his leg over with ease.

They spend a good couple hours biking through what feels like the entire village, past the athlete house of probably every single country. Bucky and Curt call out random things to people they pass just to see who will respond. They yell “USA! USA! USA!” as they pass the USA house, starting up a chant on the sidewalk as athletes walk in and out. They stop here and there to say hi to someone, trade pins, grab snacks, or whatever else one of them deems important enough to pull over for. Even if, on one occasion, Bucky insists that they need to stop to watch two birds fight over a lonely, forgotten potato chip.

Bucky and Curt record periodically, showing their surroundings. Bucky at one point zooms in very close on Gale’s ass, but he’ll never even know because he won’t ever watch the video. From the back, Curt records as Bucky swerves in close to Gale and reaches out to tap him on the hand. Gale glances over at him and Bucky pouts until he lets go of the handlebar to twine their fingers together. They continue on like that down the road, biking hand in hand. 

“You two are gross!” Benny calls out.

“You told me I needed to be social!” Gale yells back, looking over his shoulder with his hair blowing in the breeze and a legitimate smile on his face that will make viewers swoon.

Benny throws a hand up in the air and motions to John. “I didn’t mean for you to get yourself fucked by the hottest guy in the village!”

Curt laughs so hard he falls off his bike, the video showing a rapid and discombobulating tumble to the ground as the phone falls out of his hand and skids across the pavement.

It’ll be one of his most watched TikToks of the week.

—

Giving my boyfriend baguettes until he asks wtf I’m doing

That’s it. That’s the video. 

Gale is sitting on one of the chairs in the living area of Bucky and Curt’s suite, reading some book about the history of space travel because he’s a nerd and Bucky loves him for it. Curt is sitting across the room, trying (probably failing) to be inconspicuous about recording as Bucky hands Gale a whole baguette. 

Gale looks at Bucky with an eyebrow raised, but he hesitantly takes the baguette. Bucky smiles and nods like a puppy bringing their person a stick, and Gale gently sets the baguette on the small coffee table in front of him, eyes still on Bucky with an expression that says are you good? He goes back to his book. 

A few seconds later, Bucky hands him another baguette. 

“John?” Gale gives him a look somewhere between amused and annoyed. 

“Shh,” Bucky says, nudging Gale’s hand with the end of the loaf.

Gale sighs, takes the baguette, rips a small piece off to pop in his mouth, and sets it on the table with the other one. 

By the third baguette, Gale looks up at Bucky, sets down his book, and crosses his arms. “What are you doing?”

“Baguette,” Bucky insists, shoving the bread forward at Gale. 

“You’re not a penguin, hon,” Gale tells him. 

Cue fangirls obsessing over Gale calling John “hon.”

A pause. Bucky stands there, baguette in hand, and squints in confusion. “What?”

Gale motions to the baguettes accumulating on the coffee table. “Quit giving me baguettes like a penguin giving their mate pebbles.”

Bucky blinks, trying to recall when in his life he should have learned about such a thing, but comes up empty. He shakes his head. “Penguins do that?”

Gale nods, and Curt breaks out laughing behind the camera because that’s kind of exactly what Bucky is doing. 

“Why do you have so many baguettes?” Gale asks. 

Bucky points to Curt, and Gale narrows his eyes when he sees Curt recording. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs in acceptance. “Ok… Why do you have so many baguettes?”

Curt shrugs. “Keep buyin’ ‘em from the cafe.”

“You’re supposed to eat them, you know,” Gale deadpans. He’s bought a couple things from the little shop Curt is talking about, which serves fresh-baked bread every day. Because… Paris.

“Why would I eat that many baguettes?” Behind the camera, Curt gives a what the fuck kind of look.

Gale stares at Curt for a long few seconds. Then he asks “Why would you buy that many baguettes?”

“Why not?”

Bucky rips a big bite off the end of the baguette he’s still holding as he watches this interaction.

Gale rubs a hand over his face in exasperation. “So you just buy a baguette from the cafe every day and never eat it?”

Curt nods and motions to the three baguettes that have been offered to Gale. “You can have one if you want. I have more.”

Gale looks up at Bucky and rolls his eyes at the way he’s trying not to laugh, his mouth full of bread. Bucky swallows, leans down, and kisses him on the cheek.

—

So far Bucky has given his followers, and all who care to watch, tours of the dining hall and cafes, his suite, Gale’s suite, the Team USA House, the gym, and much of the Village grounds. Up on the list today, among other amenities, is the mindfulness zone.

“Are you feeling mindful, boys?” He turns the camera to look at Gale and Curt, who are walking beside him. 

“Oh I’m always mindful,” Curt says, nodding thoughtfully.

Gale glances at Curt and scoffs. “You’re the least mindful person I know.” Even when they were in college, Curt was… Curt.

Curt points a finger at Gale. “I’m gonna practice some mindfulness right now and not say somethin’ snarky back.”

The wall outside the mindfulness zone reads “Strength comes from within. Enter here to train your mind.” Bucky pans over it dramatically before shifting the camera to Gale. “Are you feeling the strength from within?”

“No.”

Inside, the mindfulness zone is lit entirely in blue light with large chairs scattered about that look like they’re meant to be comfortable but probably aren’t. Fluffy, tufted things that more than likely are stuffed so full that they’re stiff as a board. Quiet, soothing music is playing, and there’s a few people scattered about. One guy in the corner is just laying on the floor with the hood of his sweatshirt pulled down over his face, dead to the world.

“Look at those wild-ass plants!” Curt exclaims, pointing towards one corner of the room. Big, spiky-looking potted plants sit in between some of the chairs. A village staff member tells Curt to please keep his voice down, but he’s already walking away towards the plants to touch them and all she can do is watch, at a loss. “I wanna know if they’re actually pointy,” he says, quieter this time.

Gale sits down in one of the chairs, which has a seat that’s entirely too deep and a back that’s entirely too short. But he curls up on it like a cat, bringing his feet up and pulling his knees close to his chest. “That can’t be good for your back,” Bucky points out.

Gale flips him off – and the phone he’s recording with. Bucky tells him that that is definitely going in the final video. Gale shoos Bucky away, closing his eyes.

Bucky wanders around for another minute, checking out some of the decor around the room – weird drapes and beads hanging from the ceiling, abstract statues of nothing, more plants. But, inevitably, he stops back in front of Gale again. 

Gale opens his eyes. “Can I help you?”

“I’m bored,” Bucky complains, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

The corner of Gale’s lip quirks up. “We just got here.”

“It’s too quiet,” Bucky insists.

Gale squints at him. “It’s a mindfulness zone, darling.”

Cue fangirls freaking out over Gale calling Bucky ‘darling.’

“Let’s go to the game room or something instead.” Bucky perks up like a literal lightbulb went off in his head “Oh! Or the USA House.”

“We’re going to the USA House later,” Gale reminds him. Just like they went the day before and will likely go the day after. It’s Bucky’s favorite place to meet people, drink, and be generally obnoxiously American.

“Game room then.”

Gale sighs. “I’ve changed my mind. You’re the least mindful person I know.” He motions to Curt, who is still standing next to a plant, mindlessly stroking one of the weird leaves. “At least he’s having a moment with that thing.”

Bucky is bouncing from foot to foot now, buzzing with too much energy for this place. “It’s boring here,” he complains again. 

Gale tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at him. “You take your ADHD meds today?”

Bucky shakes his head and shrugs. “Ran out.”

“John, what the hell?”

Bucky ignores him and instead reaches down to grab Gale’s hand, tugging on it. “Come on, Buck.”

The same staff member from earlier gives them a look and opens her mouth to say something – presumably that they need to be quiet – but Gale puts a hand up. “Don’t worry,” he tells her. “We’ll go.”

Bucky smiles and kisses Gale’s knuckles before pulling him up out of the chair.

—

“What are you doing?” Gale slumps his shoulders with a heavy sigh, watching Bucky with an eyebrow raised as the gymnast shoves his phone into Curt’s waiting hands. Croz and Benny are off to the side, pretending to be Olympic boxers while they wait for whatever is about to happen. 

It’s been a week and a half of Bucky forcing Gale to have an online presence, and he’s resigned himself to being a prop in the social media series of Bucky’s life. He won’t admit that he’s kind of flattered by the attention people seem to be giving him, but he’d be just as fine being a nobody around here. 

“You just stay there and look pretty, angel,” Bucky says dismissively.

Cue fangirls freaking out over Bucky calling Gale ‘angel.’

“Right here?”

Bucky looks over his shoulder. Gale is standing awkwardly in the middle of the broad sidewalk, which is lined with the flags of all the countries represented in the Games, at the front of the village. “Yeah. Put your hand in your pocket or something. Act like you don’t hate life.”

Gale rolls his eyes but straightens up, replacing the scowl on his face with something more relaxed. He shoves one hand into the pocket of his blue jeans. As is protocol, all of them are decked out in red, white, and blue USA wear. Gale is wearing a form-fitting white t-shirt with “USA” printed in red and blue across the chest, showing off shoulders that are broader than anyone would think at first look when they see his slender frame on horseback. Bucky’s barely been able to keep his hands off him all day.

“Better,” Bucky calls out. “Stay like that!”

Gale looks around as other athletes pass, a few sending questioning or flirty looks his way. One comes up to him, congratulates him on his team and individual medals, and asks to trade a pin. Gale smiles and nods, handing over a USA pin in exchange for New Zealand. Bucky gets a little lost in the way Gale blushes a bit and excitedly adds the pin to his lanyard after the other athlete walks away. Gale won’t know until later that that was caught on video, too.

“Go,” Curt says, snapping Bucky out of it.

He jogs away from Curt and the camera, right towards Gale, who looks up in confusion and alarm. He reaches out towards Bucky, but Bucky grabs Gale around the waist and sweeps him off his feet, spinning him around in a circle. Gale can’t help but laugh as he’s swung through the air, eyes locked right on Bucky. When his feet hit the ground again, the gymnast is tugging at his hand, and he follows, stumbling a bit to catch up. They run together, laughing, back towards Curt, and Bucky blows a kiss at the camera before the video cuts off. 

The title is Meeting the love of your life at the Paris Olympics

—

“Buck!” 

Gale looks up from his phone to see Bucky walking up to him, phone in hand and already recording. Last Gale checked, Bucky was going to get a second coffee, but that plan seems to have gone by the wayside somewhere between leaving two minutes ago to stare at the menu and coming back now. 

“The world wants to know what pins you have and what you still need so they can get them to you.”

Gale laughs with a sweet little smile and sips his coffee. They’re sitting at one of the cafes in the village early in the morning, and Gale’s hair is still a bit messy from sleep (Bucky totally started recording now for that very reason – everyone loves it, including him). Gale pulls his lanyard up over his head and lays it down on the table.

“Holy shit, Buck,” Bucky laughs. Bucky, the charismatic and hot-as-hell men’s gymnastics all-around gold medalist, is a popular figure in the village. He talks to just about every single person he comes across and makes friends everywhere he goes, but not even he has as many pins as Gale. “You need another lanyard! How’d you even get this many?”

“Dunno,” Gale shrugs. “People just come up to me.” Bucky is going to point out the fact that it’s because everyone thinks he’s hot and wants to talk to him. But before he can, Gale is proudly showing his favorite pins, including the Dominican Republic, Fiji, Mexico, Costa Rica, Australia, China, and of course, the Beacon the Good Boy pin.

“Oh that one’s nice,” Bucky says, pointing to the pin from Puerto Rico. As he scans over the others, he stops with a finger on one of the most infamous pins of the games. “How the fuck did you get Snoop Dogg’s?”

Gale glances up at him, like it’s obvious. “Bumped into him at dressage finals.”

“Of course you did.”

“He came by the stables after and I introduced him to Whiskey.” Bucky’s speechless. But Gale glosses over that fact like it’s completely not a big deal at all and continues talking about the pins.

“I’m still lookin’ for Sri Lanka, les Seychelles, Hong Kong, Tanzania…”

Bucky shifts the camera to himself. “He really wants the Tanzania one, guys,” he says. “He won’t stop talkin’ about it.”

“It has a giraffe,” Gale mutters, still looking through his pins to identify which he’s missing that he still wants. “Oh, Tonga.”

Bucky laughs. “Hear that, guys? Buck and Tonga Man, the crossover this world needs. Let’s make it happen!”

Somehow, Gale finds himself running into an athlete from each of those countries within the next 24 hours alone, and he proudly adds the pins to his collection. The world even gets a picture of him and Tonga Man together, looking very seriously at the camera as they hold up their pin-filled lanyards.

Afterwards, Bucky grabs the lanyard around Gale’s neck and pulls him close. “Now stop flirting with other hot men and kiss me instead.”

“I’m not flirting,” Gale protests. But Bucky’s lips are on his before he can say anything else.

[closetkitsune]

...sooo yeah, I've seen a lot of posts about "tiktok therians" and also younger therians in general and I might as well get my two cents about it out here.

Short version: leave them alone; if they bother you that much then block them and move on instead of wasting your energy

Long version: Loud sigh... I feel like I might get some hate for this, but I might as well get it off my chest sooner or later.

Look, I get it, people are frustrated with how things are being watered down, but please think before you cause needless damage. What if, instead of your teacher correcting your answers on a quiz or test, they just insulted you, ignored you, and kicked you out of class? Not only would you not learn anything, but you'd probably end up disliking the teacher, if not developing a dislike for the subject they taught as a whole (as younger crowds tend to do). I've seen this happen in LGBT+ spaces and it saddens me to see it here, too.

Doesn't anyone else remember what it's like to be a teenager, exploring your identity, exploring concepts of the world in general, learning things, growing and maturing as a person? People get stuff wrong and misuse terms ALL. THE. TIME. Especially when young! That doesn't mean that some of them policing terms and identities is okay, of course; I don't blame anyone for taking a stand when it comes to that.

It's important to ensure that misinformation doesn't spread, of course. And that isn't done with gatekeeping and rage; it's done with compassion and patience. Not everyone is built for that sort of thing, of course; I'm not saying everyone out there needs to have the patience of a saint to correct people when they get certain alterhuman-related concepts or terms incorrect. Just know that being a bully on any level, no matter the excuse, will cause more harm than good.

"But it's the only way they'll learn!" No. Those are the words of someone who is letting their frustration and anger guide their actions. Maybe some people will need that kind of kick in the rear, but that should never, ever, ever be the action of choice. To be fair, I might be biased in this regard; my abusive guardian used that excuse all the time to make me do things because she didn't fully understand how my neurodivergence affected me. As a result, every time I see/hear anything similar to that, I'm strongly against it because it only reminds me of the bullying I endured.

Those who have been in this space for a while need to be welcoming to newcomers, willing to point to resources on some level, but still be firm in their boundaries in case someone decides to start trouble. Gatekeeping is not the answer and will never be the answer; the only thing it does is make the whole community look bad while ultimately causing damage. Of course, if you don't have the spoons to deal with any of this, then just block and move on. don't waste your energy on something you know isn't going to do you any good.

Those who are new to the space NEED to do their research from older, more established sources instead of only defining things in a way that they prefer. Things are going to exist in ways that don't make you the most comfortable, but you have the tools to keep that out of your space and you should absolutely make use of them.

I think everyone needs a reminder here that You are in charge of you. If something upsets you, it's your responsibility to block the appropriate people, set up the appropriate filters, whatever you need to do to make your space safe. If you claim an identity, you should at the very least know what it means and refrain from trying to needlessly police it.

And, I say this as a sex-repulsed asexual: sexual things are going to exist in every single space, be it an identity, fandom, hobby, whatever. It's not inherently bad, but it's certainly okay to not like it and it certainly shouldn't be aimed at minors. Set up your filters, block as needed, and move on. (And if you're the one posting NSFW stuff, tag it or otherwise mark it appropriately.)

If you're coming to tumblr from Tiktok, welcome! I hope you can find a safe space here. If you're a minor, please remember to practice basic internet safety. Don't share your age or location, don't show your face (masks are great for this!), be careful who you talk to, etc.

Please, don't fight each other. Educate each other and stand together. The world is a scary place; we don't need to add more bickering where it could be avoided. And we certainly don't want to alienate people who don't need to be.

(Obligatory disclaimer because this is the internet: please remember to use common sense and critical thinking; I'm not going to tolerate any logical fallacies. I don't have the patience for that.)

[didishawn]

hii I have a request

Pedri and the reader are besties and people think they’re dating but they’re not but they secretly like eachother and one day they're like playing fight and they end up having sex and later they confess that they like eachother and they end up dating fr😙

Just best "friends" (Pedri x Reader) smut

Warnings: smut, lots of Spanish, best friends to lovers, play fighting

Masterlist

There has always been some speculation on between your relationship with Pedri, fans don't seem to grasp to the idea that only because most of the time you are together, you go to his matches wearing his shirts, his family see you as one of their own, doesn't mean you are together.

Yeah, you and Pedri are basically attached to the hip, but that doesn't mean anything really.

Yeah, there are lots of photos going around internet of you two cuddling together, his face buried on your neck, the two of you smiling, giggling.

Videos of the two of you are fan favorites, out partying dancing against one another, never anyone else, going out on what other say to be "date material", they are not really, only having dinner in awesome restaurants, a trip for your birthday or movie nights.

There was also that one moment back on the World Cup that had the internet on fire, when some journalist asked Pedri about his relationship status, there were no mentions of your name, yet when Pedri confirmed to be one hundred percent single, one comment had everyone going wild.

"No, no, yo no estoy saliendo con nadie, pero eso no significa que yo no quiera, porque querer quiero, otra cosa es ella. Pero claro, ambos somos muy jóvenes y obvio pasa lo que pasa" (no, no, I am not dating anyone, but that doesn't mean that I don't want to, because I do want to, something different is what she wants. But of course, we are still very young and whatever happens, will happen)

Pedri didn't te you who te girl was when you asked him, and part of you didn't want to know, so you never asked him again.

It's another lazy day for Pedri and you, laying around by the pool, taking chance of the little sun there is, you tan while he is next to you doing god knows what.

He is pouting, after you told him you can be cuddling or your tan would come out weird, he stares at you as you calmly watch TikToks on your phone.

He doesn't like it when you ignore him, you could at least be chatting with him, about anything really, he just likes your attention on him.

He looks you up and down on your bikini, and he thanks whatever is up there for the warm weather, because you truly look amazing -he doesn't know that the only reason you are on your phone so much is to stop checking him out so much, your eyes can't stop drifting to him when the whore rolls up his swimsuit like that to make it shorter.

He is bored -more like of he keeps on staring he will get a boner- the idea strucks his mind and in the very next moment he has rolled on top of you, his chest to your back as you curse him out while he tries to watch whatever you are.

"A ver que estás viendo tan importante para ignorar a tu mejor amigo" he calls out, hand grabbing into the phone as your head spins to watch him, frowning and unbelieving of his schemingans. (let's see what you are watching that it's so important to ignore your best friend)

"Pará tarado, de verdad, que pareces un niño siempre queriendo llamar la atención" you roll your eyes, hand snapping back the phone and hiding it into your chest "Y quítate de encima que pesas" (stop you idiot, seriously, you are like a child always wanting attention. And get off me that you weight a lot)

Pedri pouts, mockingly of course as he sits up -still on top of you-trying to ignore the sight of your ass right on his cock, his big hands are on your waist, making you squirm instantly as he knows they are your soft spot, -if any paparazzi was watching they would have struck gold with the position the two of you are in- he tickles a bit, teasing you, he lifts his own hips a bit so you ass stops grinding against his cock, before without notice spinning you around, so you are face to face with him and that grin of his.

"¿Lo hacemos por las buenas o por las malas?" he asked, eyebrow quirked as he observes you, your hands are tight against your breasts and you eyes, big and round, stare up to him. (do we do it the good way or the bad way?)

You shake your head, lips tightening to stop the smile from showing up, but he knows, he always does, he knows you better than anyone else.

He grins, hands on your waist again as he goes back to tickling you, he has you squirming around, cheeks red and eyes shiny as you look at him, begging him to stop, yet you don't let go off the phone.

"Vale, vale, ten el teléfono" you shout, letting go off the device, giving it to him, but he doesn't keep it only looking at it for a second before putting it on the floor "¿Pero que haces?" (ok, ok, have the phone. But what are you doing?)

His eyes are soft and his smile is gentle as he cuddles into you, his head on your neck just above your breasts, body hugging into yours.

"Vas a hacer que de me quede el bronceado raro" (you are going to make me have a weird tan)

"Pues tendremos un bronceado raro juntos" (then we will have a weird tan together)

He hums, happy with himself and comfortable, you? Not so much, the boy isn't the heaviest but sure feels like it, the sun hits you straight on the face and you are not wearing your glasses anymore. It has you squirming, Pedri's eyes shooting open instantly, a panicked look on them.

"Para" he says. (stop)

You hum, yet move again, trying to get on your side.

"Párate por favor" (please stop)

You nod, yet think you can get away with finishing your mission, but when you are about to move again, his hands on your waist still you, keeping you in place as you hear the boy breathing deeply.

"¿Pedri? ¿Estás-?" you don't finish your sentence when you feel it. (are you-?)

Pedri's bulge is against your thigh, it feels heavy, thick and long, your eyes finally are on his face, he is too embarrassed to meet your gaze, as his cheeks are red, cursing under his breath.

"Lo siento" he finally says, getting off you and pacing around -you finally see his boner and it's just as big as you had felt "No se que ha pasado, bueno, si que se que ha pasado, pero no quería que pasara, al menos no así" (I am sorry. I don't know what happened, well, I do know what happened but I didn't want it to happen, at least not like this)

"Pedri, todo está bien-" (Pedri, it's all ok-)

"¿Como va a estar todo bien si hace un minuto estaba mi polla dura contra ti?" (how it's all gonna be good when a minute ago my hard cock was against you?)

"Pero que ya está, Pepi de verdad, que no pasa nada, que es normal si yo sin querer te estaba causando fricción con mi pierna" (but that's it, Pepi seriously, it's all ok, it's normal when I was causing you friction with my leg)

"Es que ese es el problema, no era la fricción" (that's the problem, it wasn't the friction)

"¿Entonces que?" (then what?)

"¿De verdad me vas a hacer que lo diga?" you nod "y/n, mi polla ha estado dura desde el primer momento que has salido con ese bikini, dios, no sabes lo bien que te queda" (you really are gonna make me say it? Y/n, my cock has been hard since the moment you came out wearing that bikini, God, you hace no idea how good it looks on you)

He continues on rambling "Y ahora por mis putas hormonas voy a perder a mi mejor amiga porque no me vas a querer volver a ver la cara porque soy un gilipollas y..." (and now because of my fucking hormones I will lose my best friend because you won't want to look at my face ever again, because I am an asshole and...)

You stand up, and he looks at you confused, panicked even, he didn't really think you would just up and leave "¿A donde vas?" (where are you going?)

You are shy when you answer, don't dare to look at him "Bueno, no vamos a solucionar tu problemita acá, ¿no?" (well, we are not going to fix your little problem here, are we?)

You are both on Pedri's bed before you can realise it, your top off, the boy hadn't wasted a moment before picking you up and walking you through the long corridors of his home, lips on yours as he made sure not to kill you both as he walked up the stairs.

He is grinding into you, desperate, both of you are, none of you have said it yet, but you have dreamed about this for years.

He separates his lips from yours, brown eyes on yours, the midfielder looks at you as if you were the most precious thing he has ever seen -you are.

"No quiero esperar más, te necesito dentro mio" you tell him, and while he would have given anything to taste you, he needs to feel you. (I don't want to wait anymore, I need you inside me)

He nods. Hand reaches down to pull his swimsuit down, cock bouncing out, tip ouncing precum as he strokes himself, he doesn't wait a second either to pull your bottom down and slamming inside you.

The pace is fast, yet not rough, passionate, he reaches deeper than anyone ever has. His tip kisses your cervix, body moving in perfect sincrony with yours, he hasn't ever touched you this way, yet everything feels as if he knows your body to perfection.

He knows you the best, it's no surprise he knows how to fuck you so well, fingers teasing your clit, you'd nails digging to his back, sound of moans and skin slapping fill the room.

One hand moves you however he likes it, his lips are on yours, they don't move away even when your moans into his mouth get louder, you are close, he can feel it in how you tighten around him.

He is close too, his balls tighten, he is too sensitive, it's been way too long since he has done this, he couldn't imagine being with anyone who wasn't you.

The pace is rougher, more irregular too, his tummy tightens, so does yours.

You separate, he wants to see your face as you cum, he adores the angelic expression yoou have, eyebrows raising as your mouth opens on a long moan, high, whining as you tremble against him.

It pushes him I've the edge too, last few thrusts as he fills you up, he groans, also sensitive, he falls into you, face buried in between your breasts, kisses placed on them.

The two of you are breathing deeply, your hands on his hair as you caress him, both of you coming down from your highs.

He finally looks up at you, your eyes on each other, he takes a deep breath.

"No quiero que esto sea cosa de una vez. Después de esperar tanto por tenerte, no puedo estar otra vez sin ti" (I don't want this to be a one time thing. After waiting do much to have you, I can't be without you again)

"¿Qué pasó con la chica? La de la entrevista" (what about the girl? the one you talked about in the interview)

He laughs, unbelieving "Pensaba estaba claro tú eras la chica" (I thought it was clear you are the girl)

"Entonces, tú.." (so, you...)

"Me gustas, siempre me has gustado, estoy seguro de que te amo incluso, tú eres con la que quiero estar, siempre ha sido así" (I like you, I have always liked you, I am sure I love you even, you are the one I want to be with, it's always been this way)

"Yo también quiero estar contigo, Pepi, desde hace demasiado tiempo" (I too want to be with you, Pepi, for so long)

He musters the brightest smile you have ever seen, grinning, he cuddles into you, his new girlfriend.

The internet is sure gonna go wild over this one.

[gaslight-village]

{{Also, since the TikTok alterhuman/therian community has seemingly migrated to Tumblr, there's something I'd like everyone to keep in mind.

Identity discourse does not fly here, people don't have time for it, and it's the quickest way to get blocked from the community.

I understand a lot of the community is young, and that navigating the internet and misinformation is hard. But please take it from us, spreading vitriol to try and seem like 'one of the good ones' will only make things worse for everybody.

There is no right way to be non human, because at the end of the day, weather you're genetically, biologically, something not human. Or just deeply connect your identity to something not human-

The bigoted side of humanity will still find a way to make life miserable for people who don't fit their preconceived notions of what's real and what's not.

If the recent TikTok ban has taught people anything in this regard, it's that the government can, has, and will continue to lie out of their asses to keep everyone in their own little groups.

And they're doing that because they're scared of what could happen, scared that if we weren't constantly infighting, we'd all turn to direct our greivences to them as we should be doing.}}

-Signed, Alexander L. Wood, son of the bogeyman, whose been dealing with this shit for almost thirty years now. 🎡✨

{{A quick add on, I know this is likely a lot for people, and that the general consensus was that we'd just continue to scramble about while the rest of the world stage went on.

I believed that for the longest time as well, but now we're out in the open, and I don't know about you all, but I'm not going back into the box any time soon.}}

[celli-ohs]

If you are a HYBE supporter, MHJ anti, or NJS anti unfollow me right now. Block me even. My blog is not for you.

I've been collecting my thoughts about the MHJ/NJS v HYBE issue for quite some time now, but with the recent speech the girls made at KGMA, Belift filing a new complaint and demanding 2 billion won, and MHJ claiming Belift is using Illit as a shield, I cannot take the idiocracy any more.

The amount of misinformation being spread on basically all platforms, but exclusively on TikTok and X, is astounding. More than half of the time I'll see a tweet it's just straight up harassment towards the NJS girls. How can anyone with a sane mind read that and think "Yeah, this is appropriate to post onto the internet for the entire world to see, something that will be linked to me and my digital footprint forever". I'm not saying this only for NJS though, I've seen some nasty toxic Bunnies post heinous things about the Illit members, just because of something their company or CEO said/did. This issue has nothing to do with Illit, Le Sserafim, or any other group that was mentioned/involved, OTHER than NEWJEANS. All of this has to do with HYBE and specific staff, including the new ADOR staff.

I was a Bunny way before I was a Moa or an Engene. NewJeans was the first kpop group I'd bought an album for. I was listening to them not even really knowing they were a kpop group. They're so popular that at my old job they played their songs on the radio, which is how I discovered them. I owe it to them for introducing me to so many amazing groups, people, and cultures. Without knowing them, I wouldn't even know what HYBE and their other groups (besides BTS obvi) were. Currently, NJS is one of the few groups (both girls and boys) I fully stan. I'm proud to stan them too, they are an amazing group of girls who are talented, and full of hope and positivity. They're impact on not only South Korea, but the entire globe is and that is an incredible feat. And I don't want to dismiss any other groups achievements, as a fan of kpop it's exciting to me whenever there's positive news about any group, we should all be able to uplift and support one another, not tear each other down.

That is why I find it so heartbreaking to see toxic fans hating and harassing NJS and Bunnies. I always thought kpop fans held such a great community, no matter what groups you liked. We all share the same interest, same musical genre. To watch people who are so blinded by anger and rage, brainwashed by a greedy dictatorial company, and paint five young women/girls as the devil incarnate, it's sickening. I've seen people say that NJS are idiots, pretending to be victims, that they are actively looking to be groomed. How do you feel as a human being, to claim these things (and more bad things!) about five people you've never even met before? Have you heard them say this? From their own mouths? From their own will? I just don't understand why we as fans have to constantly fight each other over the menial things, when the larger and more concerning problem(s) are dismissed.

I've seen a lot of HYBE supporters recently site the hardships of their faves, attempting to use it against NJS in hopes of defaming them and discrediting/invalidating their mistreatment. This makes zero sense to me. Do these people not realize that they are essentially saying that idols/trainees must suffer in order to debut/be "good enough"?? You'd rather your faves struggle and just accept that their company is shitty and will treat them horribly than to see them have good treatment that they deserve?? "Enhypen had a broken A/C unit in their practice room, but they didn't complain" Be so fucking for real right now. "TXT used to practice in a moldy room, it was growing mushrooms but they never cried about it." And you sound like you want to keep them there with that statement. Idk about you, but if I had the power to help in any way for my faves to have an easier time pre/post-debut, I would do it in a heartbeat.

There's a lot of misogyny/sexism and racism linked to the hate train towards NewJeans. Antis are constantly claiming that only "old predatorial men" are their fans (when in reality most Bunnies are young women themselves!). I've seen many tweets where people are lying, saying that MHJ is prostituting the girls, and that whenever they are photographed within the vicinity of a man they are selling their bodies to gain popularity. There is no actual proof of any of this. The only "old men" who are seemingly sexualizing NJS are Belift. Separately, the racism towards Hanni for being Vietnamese is also disgusting. Not just antis on X, but that SNL Korea skit where they make fun of her accent, that was not okay. Racism has nothing to do with the issue of mistreatment within HYBE, and that is bullying. Anyone who believes they are allowed to hate on NewJeans because they are women or because a member isn't Korean needs to reevaluate their morals because that is an infringement of human rights.

TXT is my ult group, and Enhypen is my second favorite group. Both of them are under HYBE as well, which puts me in an odd spot as a fan of the three groups. But in all honesty, I do not like HYBE, I do not condone anything they've done that hurts any of their artists. And looking at their track record... they've hurt their artists a lot, and not just NJS. If we look at Belift specifically, the way they treat Enhypen is unfair. The release of their internal documents says it all: Belift as a company knows and understands that the Enhypen members are exhausted and overworked, yet they dismiss it and force them to continue pushing. Never-ending tours and comebacks, forced promotions of brands that support the genocide of Palestine, rejecting brand ambassadorships for Sunoo, I'm sure there's more that I missed. If Enhypen has been and still is being treated this way, I cannot imagine what they might do to Illit, as if they hadn't already set these girls up. Those girls don't deserve the hate either. All I can ask for is for both groups to be treated like human beings, and not pay pigs. It hurts me to see the members in so much pain and exhaustion.

With TXT I do admit I see more leniency towards them, and my guess is because they are under Bighit, and are directly BTS's juniors. But when I see stuff like them also being constantly overworked, using Yeonjun to belittle other idols who are his friends, favoring certain members over others, etc. I'm reminded that my ult group also suffers under the hand of HYBE. Even though TXT is successful and popular, that doesn't mean everyone (including their company) will treat them with respect. I've seen some people on X send hate/concern towards Soobin specifically, as he did speak on Weverse (I think) about how TXT focused on their comeback rather than the lawsuit/complaints against HYBE and MHJ. And to be honest, I can understand why some people felt a bit disappointed or hurt by him saying this because honestly, I was a little as well. But mainly I felt this way because I knew he would say something like this, he was probably told to say this to not start more drama. It's a safe option because it's a true fact, they all have been too busy to really be able to interject into this situation that does not technically involve them. As fans, we only know what we're shown, and as a Moa I just hope all the members are safe, healthy, and are treated with kindness.

Seventeen's Seungkwan's statement on his IG is such a beautifully written letter, and it shows and proves that even senior artists can and will be used by their companies for profit as if they aren't human beings. It's so dehumanizing, what these companies do to their groups. Because at the end of the day, not only is it HYBE (who is admittedly a very big perpetrator) it's the entire industry. You could name any company, and at some point, they'd mistreated their artist. This is why I support NewJeans and their endeavor to better the lives of idols and trainees. These five women/girls know and understand that what is happening to them is not humane. The amount of sabotage towards a successful group like them is so backward, it makes no sense. Whether or not you classify it as bullying, no one should hear others being told to ignore them, especially in a culture like Korea's where greetings are so significant. Stopping a comeback and surprise fansign from happening for an unknown reason is unfair. Documenting the plan and intention to get rid of the entire group as a whole and replace them with a junior group that needs more time to train is downright despicable.

To NewJeans: I'm so sorry for what you all have been through. Thank you for being the smart, strong, and brave young ladies you are. I will always support you and love you. Thank you for creating beautiful music, videos, and content. I'm so happy to be a fan of kpop, and so proud to be a Bunny! Wherever you go I will follow with much love!

To my followers: I still plan to write for TXT and Enhypen. I still love them very much, despite their shitty company. Personally, I've learned to separate my writing from the companies, because, at the end of the day, I'm writing about my own storylines and plots that I created. Besides, it's fiction and 99% of my works are fluff and crack which does not harm anyone. But if you have a problem with my opinions/views on this situation regarding HYBE and NJS, then my blog isn't for you.

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

Is there anything in taeils chart that could point to him being an awful person?

Oooh- I was so hesitant in wondering whether or not I should respond to this question BUT I'm going too for education purposes because this is a great way of understanding how unhealed/undeveloped/immature zodiac placements manifest in people.

Disclaimer: Before I begin and receive hate comments, pls be mature and understand that this isn't reflective on EVERY person who has these placements AND also this is for funsies and not to be taken srsly. Taeil's decisions are a product of his own free will and free will always surpasses astrological influence. 18+

Placements: Gemini Sun, Leo Moon, Cancer Venus, Taurus Mars ( Rising Sign Unknown)

Sorry to the ppl with Gemini placements watching this but we have another Gemini man bringing shame to the zodiac world.

The benefits of this Sun/Moon duo together is having the ability to use their natural charisma, ability to adapt to different situations, friendly appearance and whimsical sense of humor to bring joy to others around them and to help the underdog/misfits feel included.

I don't know much about Taeil but from what I've seen on Tiktok and X, many people who did bias Taeil biased him because of his talented vocal cords, overall 'sweet' persona and having a 'gentle' demeanour.

But of course, Gemini and Leo are known for being able to 'mask' easily and adapt their personality to the environment around them- it's why they are great placements to have if you're in the entertainment industry.

These zodiac signs typically enjoy giving and receiving a lot of attention from multiple people to satisfy their ego and if unchecked, can develop a god complex honestly.

Taeil's ego might have been so unhinged and inflated he might have thought he could commit these acts and not get caught, purely because he's too smart or too famous to receive the consequences from doing it.

When I see a man with a Leo Moon and a Cancer Venus, this is giving me such mommy's boy energy not going to lie. It's common for men with Leo and/or Cancer placements to grow up with a mother who blew wind up their arse and they could never do anything wrong and their mother coddled and did everything for them.

I don't know if he's a Mommy's boy but it wouldn't surprise me if he is.

And I've just noticed in general, that a large amount of men who grew up being a Mommy's boy or in an emotionally incestuous relationship with their mother (NOT ALL BUT MANY) tend to have a quite derogatory view towards women.

This is mainly because they already have a woman who satiates their psychological, emotional and egotistical needs and so may view other women merely for sexual gratification and that's it.

It's common that men with these placements typically have a conservative/traditional view and opinion towards hetereosexual romantic relationships.

South Korea is a country where the societal norms and standards towards women are very misogynistic, restrictive and sexist (don't argue with me on this, there's a reason why the 4b movement exists) and that Cancer Venus influence means he probably developed these views towards women at a young age.

Which is really sad because majority of ppl who stanned Taeil were women or fem-identifying so unfortunately, I wouldn't be surprised if...

Taeil stans viewed him as being this 'soft spoken' idol that was respectful and loving towards his fans when in reality...

It's more likely that he saw his fans as nothing more than to satisfy his ego, give him the fame he thinks he deserves and would warm his bed with a single click of a pen.

Again, this is just intrusive thoughts and a random brain rot about how his natal chart could show insight into his wiring and why he made these horrific decisions.

None of this is confirmed, might not even be accurate but hey, you wanted my opinion and so here it is.

And don't be afraid if you know a person or stan another idol who has similar placements because again, a human's greatest gift is free will.

[widebrimmedhatsblog]

I'm going to combine my reply to yours on AO3 with this, but yes, I 100% get it. People can be so rude and unappreciative and I know it's usually not on purpose but it can still be grating. Not very demure, not very mindful 😓

This is a really young fandom (not just in age specifically, but in fandom experience) and I try to remind myself of that all the time. I'm in a place now where I just scroll past in my inbox and barely take in comments like that, but I get how disappointing it can be. We work really hard on these pieces and they genuinely take a lot of our time and energy we could spend doing other things (I haven't read a book in months), so getting responses like that on a labour of love is so grating.

I feel so awkward as a writer who gets it even phrasing "I'd love to see more" in comments. It's very: I want this person to know I loved it so much I want to see more of it, but also: I don't want this person to feel pressured to do it just because I love it, I just want them to know. Even when I commented, I had in the back of my mind how many WIPs you were working on and how stressful that can be holding all of that in your head, but I don't think normal people realise.

It's like you have a million things to do but you've spent all day baking a triple layer cake with filling and frosting and all the toppings and you're exhausted and your feet hurt but you're eagerly watching someone eat the first slice...and they say "nice! have you got any biscuits?" and you're just like???

@justallihere and I always talk about starting a fandom podcast to talk about things like this and educate people and honestly, I think the world needs it. People treat writers like TikTok content creators and that's just not how it works over here.

(Also, I promise we're not girlbossing it, we're bullshitting our way through every minute of every day)

I'm annoyed that this has ruined the excitement of posting a new work for you, you should be able to bask in our shared joy after gifting us something like this. I really loved the work, truly and I can understand the lack of inclination to continue it given the little worldbuilding we've been shown. It certainly doesn't make canon-adjacent fic easy. Love that you don't like Brennan though, or have any desire to write him. He's dodgy as fuck.

As a writer, you can only write what you want to write. If you're not enthusiastic about it or inspired by it, it either won't be written at all, or the magic won't be there. If you can see where it goes but you don't want to write it then you shouldn't.

I'm so grateful for you taking on the prompt in the first place, it was a wonderful gift and the pair of them were everything I could have hoped for—Violet being her prickly self and Xaden still being a self-assured casanova? Delicious. Plus, we love a fic where Violet gets eaten out in the wilderness 😉 Welcome to the club! Should we create a 'cunnilingus in the wilderness' tag for this fandom?

You put so much thought into this whole world and it's absolutely, truly appreciated by those who matter and understand how hard the process is and what a gift it is—thank you, thank you, thank you! 🙏

Amy!!! You are so lovely, thank YOU. I get you 100000% and I didn’t feel pressured by you whatsoever. I definitely agree that people who aren’t writers just don’t get it. I got a comment this morning that was like I’d read 200k more of this, and it’s like, someone has to WRITE 200k more of it then. Two hundred thousand words are not going to fall out of the sky just because you’d like to read them. But I digress!!! There’s been a lot of joy in it too, especially in discussing the backstory with everyone. If you and Alli had a podcast I think I would go a little insane!

I personally am just not huge on writing Brennan when he’s alive because he makes NO SENSE. I feel slightly similar about the Fen & Xaden dynamic. I just prefer to write him being dead for that reason.

Again, I’m so so SO glad you specifically enjoyed the fic!! I thought about you a lot while writing it, so I’m glad that paid off.

Cunnilingus In The Wildnerness Tag!!! Absolutely. I am honored to join the club .

This made me very happy, and definitely helped me feel better about things + my reaction to them. Thank you.