#instead of replying to them I am going to spend my time more effectively

[codychristiantreasures]

Someone who works on the team for one of my clients just sent me a very unnecessary passive aggressive email calling me out for something that isn’t even an issue. Its one thing to send me an email asking me why something is the way it is if you don’t understand but to CC someone who isn’t even my superior and has NOTHING to do with my clients and saying things should be done how they do it because they dumb it down for you is the icing on the cake. They picked the wrong day to piss me off. I am 🤏🏻 close to sending them this picture and nothing else.

[gguk-n]

Chapter 1- Anonymous Conversations

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen x Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N formed an unexpected bond with a boy behind the screen. He doesn't have many interest it seems, except for reading her stupid poems.

{Reader's POV}

12/07/2012

Dear Diary, Stella is leaving for Canada tomorrow forever. Today was the last day of school before the summer break so I went to Stella's house after school. It's so shitty, how can she leave me like this and before the start of high school. I don't have any friends other than her, what am I supposed to do??? This isn't fair, first Faye moved back to her home country a couple years back and now Stella. It's like they don't even care about me. I made a google plus account so we can stay in touch. Actually everyone's on google plus, I'm just late to the party. I'm sure we'll still be close.

02/01/2013

OMG!! I think I'm in love. There's this new boy band, One Direction. Ava told me about them last year but I brushed her off saying they weren't my cup of tea, but OMG!!! They are fucking perfect and I love Niall so much. He's so cute and has the dreamiest eyes and his accent, I'm gonna faint. I bought the Take Me Home album yesterday!! I even put up their poster above my bed, hehe!! Sooooo, I may or may not be writing now. I think I'm gonna be an author. The stuff isn't great like Shakespeare but I'm sure I'll improve. I've written a couple poems and Aria read them and she thinks they are great. I'm gonna start uploading them on google plus. I made a separate page for it, under a pseudonym. If I really improve, maybe I can publish my work.

I was sat at my laptop, typing the latest story I came up with during lunch so I could upload it. There were a lot of people who were reading my work and even encouraged me. There is improvement, but then again, we can do better, I'm sure. My parents aren't very happy with how I'm wasting my time writing instead of focusing on my education since I'm in high school now. I finished typing the story and clicked the upload button, I got a comment on the post. It was from this guy, named Max, just Max. He always read all of my work and writes the nicest comments under them. I haven't spoken to him personally ever since my mother kept warning me about stranger danger and that it could be some 50 year old dude. But his comments are encouraging and make me want to write more. I hope he knows the kind of effect he's having on me.

My birthday is in a couple of days, I don't know what I'll do since I don't really have a lot of friends. Even Aria is away during that time, so I don't really have anyone to go out with. My parents are busy as always.

So, out of desperation or sadness, I don't know which one, I posted on google plus saying that it was my birthday. The first person who replied was Max as always. I really wanna know when this guy sleeps or how he gets any work done if he is online so much. He messaged me personally too, to wish me again and even asked what I did. I couldn't lie because my heart was heavy, so I told him. I literally just unloaded about not having any friends and spending the day alone because work was more important for my parents. He was so nice about it. He spent the next hour talking to me and cheering me up. He's apparently 15, from Netherlands. He loves cats and lives with his dad and sister. He sounds like a fun guy.

After that, both of us ended up chatting on google plus regularly. I would message him immediately after school and spend the next couple of hours talking to him. Some times, he'd be gone a couple weekends but it was no biggy. I'm sure he had other commitments instead of entertaining a dumb teenager.

Max's birthday is on 30 September. I wanted to be the first one, so I stayed up late to match the dutch timings and wished him. He replied a little while later. He wasn't very excited about it. I get it, maybe his friends aren't there or couldn't make it to his birthday. I was gonna cheer him like he cheered me up. I wish I could send him a present. He really was a light in dark time. When I had no friends in school I could rely on, he came like the knight in shining armour. I just want to be a good and reliable friend to him like he is to me. He is such a sweetheart. We've never spoken on call yet. I guess I'm still a little scared and we've only known each other for a few months. I'm gonna hold on that but Max is a genuinely nice person in my eyes. But his dad doesn't sound like the nicest person from what he says, but I can't tell him that his dad is shitty so I just read his texts.

18/12/2013

Dear Diary, Maxie is the cutest. I haven't seen or heard him yet but I feel like he is. Otherwise, why would he encourage me to follow my dreams? He was so understanding and gave great advice. You might wonder why I needed the advice, diary. I told my parents I wanna pursue a degree in literature and we had a huge fight since apparently I'm throwing my life away and I should try to get a proper degree that might get me a job. Apparently, I'm not thinking straight. I've been thinking about becoming an author for some time now, it's my one passion, I've realised. And if it means struggling, I would rather struggle and be happy than be in a dead end job. Just because they are some big shot business people doesn't mean I wanna do that do. ugh!!! I hate them. Maxie calmed me down honestly, he heard me out and told me it was okay to follow my dreams. I think he is such a good friend. I won't tell him that, he has a big ego as is. LOL!!

I've been gaining a lot of traction on my posts on google plus. I have a couple thousand followers but Max is the most active of them all. Max is so effortlessly funny. He did ask one time if we could talk on call, I told him that my microphone was broken. I'm still a little skeptical. I know, even though I'm literally sharing everything with him, I've never spoken on call or video with him. Maybe some day.

04/03/2014

Dear Diary, I got a new phone and a new number. The previous one was one of my parents multiple numbers but this one is my own. I feel like an adult, hehe!! I made a whatsapp, maybe I'll share my number with Maxie and we might start chatting on there. Google plus had become a bit of hassle and I'm not uploading on it like I used to. I usually only open it to talk to Max. I think it would be better to shift it to another service. He's been a little busy this year compared to the last, didn't tell me much but I think it has to do with him being in his final year of high school. Can't relate, but I hope I'm done with high school soon. It fucking sucks. But on the bright side, I've gotten close to Nia and Aria and I could call Aria my best friend but she considers Nia her best friend. I don't mind being her friend. I have Max anyways.

Max has been quite busy lately, but I don't blame him. I would be busy in my final year of high school too. Even with all that, he has taken time out to talk to me. I did share my number with him, so now instead of google plus, which is a barren wasteland, we text on whatsapp. I've suggested talking on call some time when he's free, which hasn't happened yet.

We had set up a time to talk, it was really early here but I didn't mind, I was up anyways. I couldn't wait to hear his voice. I was anxious as well, what if he's some pedophile; all these thoughts raced through my head when my phone rang. Max- Hi, Y/N! Y/N- Hey, Max!! How are you? Max- I'm good, what about you? Y/N- Yeah, I'm good too. haha!! This is so weird talking to you. Max- yeah, you sound pretty. Fuck was he flirting, is this flirting? A million thoughts ran through my head, no one's ever flirted with me before. I felt my cheeks heat up. Y/N- You sound nice too. I mean....you have a nice voice. Max- haha, thanks, this is the first time some one has said that. Y/N- soooo, what have you been up too?? You've been so busy lately. There was a pause on the other end. I heard shuffling. Max- yeah, I've been busy with stuff. I'll be done soon for a while now. Y/N- That's great I need my best friend back! The conversation flowed smoothly. It didn't feel like we were talking on call for the first time. I had a lot of fun talking to Max. He sounds like a teenager, much to my relief. He's just as funny on call as he is on text.

After that, we ended up calling each other regularly. Max would answer my calls whenever but sometimes I felt bad about calling him at the crack ass of dawn in Netherland so I would avoid calling him whenever. He is so kind and listens well but damn does he talk. Every one who knows me calls me talkative, if they heard Max their ears would bleed. But I like hearing him talk, he has the most random and vast knowledge, he's helped me write too many of my papers because I didn't have to research, I could just ask him; he's like a walking encyclopedia.

17/05/2015

Dear Diary, I think I'm in love. It's not some celebrity this time but I think it's Max. I don't even know that dude's last name but I'm in love. He not like the guys in school, he's so mature and funny and sweet and understanding and he supports me so much. I didn't know when or how but I think I love him. Obviously I won't tell him. It's prolly a crush since I have't dated anyone ever. I'll get over it, can't ruin my friendship over this. As is, he has gotten so busy. I think he is going to college. He didn't say it explicitly but why else would he be so busy right now if not applying for colleges. I don't know the dutch education system but I'm sure he busy pursuing higher education. He said he liked cars, I think he'll do something with cars. I didn't really ask in more details. I'm sure he'll tell me when he wants to. We have a chill friendship, we share when and what we want to. Alas, I hope this crush doesn't ruin my friendship.

09/08/2015

This is bad, my crush on Max has only gone on to increase. He's so kind to me, what am I supposed to do? Also he's the only one who can calm me down after a fight with my parents regarding my future. Sadly, he gotten so busy. He's gone for a while every few weeks. But lately he's been free. We've been talking a lot. He sounds a lot more rested lately too. I'm sure college is tough. But he's strong and I know he'll do it.

[Little did Y/N know, Max was busy racing across the world in Redbull's junior team. He was in his first year as a formula one driver, hence he was so busy. Max had no intentions of telling her, he liked being just Max, a guy from Netherlands who could talk to her. He enjoyed the disconnect he got with her]

[captainsophiestark]

A Notable Introduction

Tristan Flynn x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for day five of the @sjmxreaderweek event!

Fandom: Crescent City

Day Five Prompt: Heirs/Lords & Ladies

Summary: Most fae lords and their sons are snooty, superior, and absolutely terrible to spend time with, which makes being a fae lady whose parents are trying to get her married off pretty tough. But things might turn out a little differently when Tristan Flynn is the fae lord's son in question.

Word Count: 3,296

Category: Fluff, maybe a tiny bit of angst

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Don't take too long! You don't want to keep Lord Hawthorne or his son waiting!"

I gave a noncommittal hum, hoping it would be enough to keep my mother at bay for a few more minutes, at least. I almost had this window latch undone, if I could just get it to shift a little more...

Click. It gave way, and the hinges squealed as I lifted the window up. I grimaced, hoping against hope no one inside the house had heard the noise, but it's not like I could really turn back now. I propped the window open, threw one leg over the sill, and jumped down before anyone could come knocking at the door again.

My parents, both from renowned and prestigious fae lineages, had shifted and redoubled their efforts to get me married off to some fae lord for prestige and alliances. I'd been able to duck them so far, mostly by horrifying whatever eligible bachelor they were trying to push on me by doing things like leaping out second-story bathroom windows. Lord Hawthorne and his son were going to be no exception to that if I had anything to say about it.

I rolled as soon as I hit the ground, not giving two shits about the dirt and thorns probably tearing into my dress as I rolled. It was the best way to dissipate the force from the drop, and the state of my dress could only work in my favor to further scare off any fae nobility in the house behind me.

I popped up from where I'd landed in the bushes, intending to just take off for a little while and do whatever I wanted before I eventually had to return and deal with the mess I'd made. Instead, I froze in my tracks. A fae male was staring me down, looking just as much like a deer in headlights as I felt, a stray twig caught in his hair.

This couldn't have been my parents' doing, could it? They'd gotten much, much better at defeating my escape attempts after the first few, but this guy did not look like an effective guard or whatever they could've hired him to do. Besides, if that was some new strategy my parents were trying, shouldn't the guy have kept me from jumping out of the window in the first place?

"...Who are you?" the guy and I asked at the same time, looking equally wary and stunned. I glanced back at the house, and he copied my move. The last thing I needed was someone catching me out here while I was talking to this guy.

Before I could lie about my name and take off in the opposite direction, he narrowed his eyes and looked me up and down. I saw his expression change as the puzzle pieces of my dress and where I'd come from must have fallen into place, and I mentally grimaced.

"Are you the female that's here to meet Lord Hawthorne's son?"

"And what if I am?" I replied, my chin held high and my muscles tensed to run. To my surprised, the guy visibly relaxed and let out a breathy laugh. He held his hand out to me for a shake.

"Tristan Flynn. Also running away from meeting you."

My brain short-circuited. I blinked a few times, then looked the guy up and down. Lo and behold, although the stray twigs and dirt had initially distracted me, he was wearing fine clothes like my own with apparent disregard for their wellbeing. If I really squinted, I could even see the resemblance to Lord Hawthorne, who'd greeted my parents and looked at me like a prize cow. The son standing before me, however, looked significantly more chill as he dropped his unshaken hand back to his side.

"...You aren't interested in a political alliance betrothal or whatever?" I asked, still not completely relaxing. Looks could be deceiving, especially among fae lords and their sons.

"Fuck no. No offense."

I straightened up a little, then gestured to my dirty dress and the fact that I was standing in the bushes, too.

"Do I look like I'm offended?"

Flynn grinned, and I was surprised to find a little spike of something in my heart at the sight.

"You look relieved. Which is a nice change of pace from what my parents have been putting me through recently."

I snorted. "No shit. I've been stalling and ducking my parents for months now, they just won't give up."

Flynn let out a low whistle. "Months, huh? It's only been a few weeks for me. Months sounds miserable."

"Yes. It is."

"Hm. Well, this is my first time trying the 'sneak out and escape the meeting all together' method. You mind if I tag along to wherever you're headed?"

I narrowed my eyes and sized Flynn up again. He seemed earnest, and I knew my family was far too traditional and uppity to try to manipulate me into a meeting like this. If they'd thought for two seconds that the Flynn family heir would be up for something like this, they would've crossed him off the list of potential suitors immediately.

"...You know what? Sure. Why not. But I feel like I should warn you, my number one goal whenever I sneak away from these things is to end up looking like an absolute mess when I eventually return to the house. If the fae family I'm meeting doesn't recoil in disgust at my unladylike ways, it's a failure."

Flynn grinned again, and my heart repeated its backflip.

"Sounds like my kind of escape plan."

"Alright. Then let's get the fuck out of here before anybody notices we're gone."

I followed Flynn's lead out of the massive stretch of gardens surrounding the house, since he knew the place best. Once we'd cleared the property, though, Flynn's steps stuttered until he eventually came to a stop, looking around with uncertainty. I raised an eyebrow as he turned to me with a slightly sheepish expression, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"I... don't actually spend a lot of time in this area," he admitted. I laughed.

"Seriously? The area around your house?"

Flynn shrugged. "I don't actually live here. I moved out almost as soon as I could. I live with some Aux buddies in the Old Square."

"Hm. That sounds nice."

"Better than being at home. I'm a little surprised you're still there, since you don't seem like you're into all this shit."

I cut my eyes in his direction, radiating judgement and not bothering to try and hide it.

"Fae males are afforded a whole Hel of a lot more freedom than fae females, Flynn. If I tried to move out, my parents would just drag me back, and it'd be perfectly legal."

Flynn's expression dropped as he frowned.

"Shit. I'm sorry, I do know that, I just... forgot."

I shrugged. "It's stupid, and it needs to change, but it hasn't yet. I'd forget about it too, if I could."

Flynn let out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair. Finally, he met my eyes again, a little bit of the mischief replaced with understanding.

"Well, I'm happy to do my best to help you forget it until we have to go back."

I grinned. "Sounds good to me."

"Alright, well... shit, we might have to do some brainstorming of things to do, I really don't know this area that well."

"Well, Flynn, I have some good news for you." He turned to me, and I gave him another grin. "I never go to these things without researching activities in the area that will make the Fae Lord I'm meeting run for the hills by the time I finally go back to the house. I've got tons of ideas prepared, assuming you're not the kind of Fae Lord to get scared off by any of them."

Now it was Flynn's turn to give me a grin.

"Well then, lead the way sweetheart. I'm much harder to scare than those other stuffy blowhards."

I huffed a laugh, then turned to lead Flynn through the winding streets of FiRo in the heart of fae territory. He followed without complaint, although he looked a little skeptical when I turned to head deeper into the territory instead of back towards literally any other part of the city.

His skepticism was understandable. FiRo was tightly controlled by the fae lords who lived there, and those same fae lords hated most things I would consider fun. But FiRo was a large part of the city, and not everyone who lived there was quite as uptight as Flynn and I's parents. It had taken a lot of online investigating and a fair amount of trial and error whenever I snuck away from my family, but I'd developed a strong list of places to go for fun here.

I ducked down a smaller street with far less foot traffic, Flynn right behind me. We were in the heart of the city, but thanks to a little magic, we slipped through the door into one of my favorite places in FiRo.

"I'm trying not to let it get to me that you just brought me to a fancy tea shop that my sister would probably love," Flynn said, skepticism dripping from his words behind me. I turned to find his shoulders up by his ears, looking tensed and ready to run. I just smirked.

"In FiRo, the kind of places I'd like to hang out have to at least also do 'respectable' business lest people start trying to chase them out. But don't worry, we're not here for tea."

Flynn looked significantly more interested at my words, and significantly less ready to run. I nodded to the barista, who for better or worse recognized me, and led Flynn into a room towards the back.

"You said you were Aux?" I asked as we reached a door disguised as a bookshelf, and I moved a book to open it. Flynn's grin was practically feral when I glanced back at him, and he nodded.

"Yup."

"Good. Then maybe I've finally found a worthy opponent."

He raised an eyebrow, but excitedly followed me through the door and down the stairs. He stopped right on my heels as we found ourselves before another counter, facing down FiRo's only paintball arena. Complete with tactical hiding spots and a muddy, dirty floor.

I could practically see the horrified looks my parents would give me if they ever saw this place, and it instantly brought a smile to my face.

"Hey!" called the desk attendant as soon as they saw me. "The usual?"

I shot them a wink. "You know it."

They moved to get Flynn and I the gear we'd need to participate in a few rounds of paintball, joining in once the current one in progress got wrapped up. When I turned back to Flynn, I found him absolutely gawking at me.

"This is what you do when you sneak out of fae arranged marriage meetings?" he asked. I grinned.

"One of a few different options, yeah. The goal is always something that I'll have fun doing, but that will also make me look like a wild, unmarriageable disaster when I finally go back."

Flynn huffed a laugh and shook his head, but he was smiling, too.

"That's... incredible."

The fae at the counter returned with our gear as I shot Flynn a wink.

"Maybe wait to make the final judgement until we're out of the ring, Aux boy."

Flynn and I played a few rounds of no-holds-barred paintball, where we were as competitive with each other as the handful of other players in the arena. Flynn was a high-ranking member of the Fae Aux, so he was pretty damn good at the game. But I'd spent a lot of my free time getting good at paintball, specifically, and especially in the first few rounds, I think Flynn underestimated just what a formidable opponent I could be.

As a result, I kicked his ass in our first two rounds, and we ended the third in a draw through shooting each other at the same time. We wandered off the underground field, sweating and dirty, but with matching grins on our faces.

"You are... insane," laughed Flynn, the bright smile on his face telling me it was definitely a compliment. "I don't think I've ever met another fae lady like you."

I shrugged. "I'm lucky enough to have parents that'll just get fed up with me and try to keep me from leaving the house if I do stuff like this. A lot of fae girls would end up in a Lunathion urgent care, instead. Makes it easier to be a rebel for me."

Flynn sobered again in an instant, but his gaze shifted away from me to stare off into space. I gave him a minute, not saying anything, leaving room for him to share whatever thoughts were flashing across his mind if he wanted to.

"...I never thought it'd be possible to say this, but you're making me feel bad for my sister."

I huffed a laugh. "Eh, you can be annoyed as hell by a sibling while still trying to make sure they're not treated like shit for their gender. Thinking what she has to go through is bullshit and thinking she's irritating and you don't want to spend time with her can coexist."

Flynn snorted, and the little smile he gave me this time was the most subdued yet genuine one I'd seen yet.

"You might be the first person I've met who's actually managed to put that into words."

"Don't your Aux friends have siblings?"

"One of 'em, but their relationship's a little more... complicated."

I raised an eyebrow, but when Flynn didn't elaborate, I just shrugged.

"Alright, well, glad I could help illuminate it for you. Ready to get your ass kicked in another round of paintball?"

Flynn grinned. "Actually... I was thinking it might be time for a team-up. What do you say we show these other fae how it's really done?"

"...Kinda feel like I've been doing that already, without your help," I said, giving Flynn a look. He just grinned wider, and my heart skipped another few beats.

"I know you have, sweetheart, it's been incredible to watch. But I think it'd be more fun to work together for a round or two and really show these wannabes what good paintball looks like."

I huffed a little laugh and shook my head. If I'd told myself a few hours ago that I'd even be considering teaming up with a future fae lord instead of against him with everyone else at the arena, I never would've believed it. But despite his family and the status he'd grown up with, I actually found myself really liking Flynn.

"Alright," I finally said, turning to him with a grin. "Let's do it."

He grinned right back, and once the next round started, we absolutely dominated. We'd been each other's biggest competition, so once we'd officially formed a team, we were unstoppable. No one even came close to touching us, not even the other regulars I saw here all the time.

We played a few rounds like that, and when we finally stepped off the field for the last time, the smile we shared was almost feral.

"That... was fun," I declared. Flynn nodded immediately.

"If my parents had told me you were somebody who could do that, I might not have snuck out the window to avoid meeting you."

I snorted. "If my parents knew I could do that, they'd probably never let me out of the house again."

Flynn hummed, slightly more serious as the two of us turned in our gear. Unfortunately, it was getting late enough in the day that we needed to think about returning to our families. Although, unlike the other times I'd done this, the prospect of spending the rest of the evening with Flynn wasn't quite so daunting as the other fae lords.

The two of us chatted as we put our gear away and checked out of the paintball place, falling into the easy rhythm that we'd first found almost immediately. I noticed Flynn fighting to hold back a laugh every time he caught sight of the state of my dress, and it always made me smile. I knew he was imaging the looks on our families' faces when they saw me, and I liked that he seemed as excited as me for their shock and outrage.

Conversation stayed easy between the two of us as we took our time walking back to his house. For the first time I could remember, I was completely relaxed in the company of a fae peer, which was no small feat. As we finally reached the Flynn villa, for the first time in my entire life, the thought of spending the rest of the evening with whoever my parents were trying to set me up with didn't make me want to turn back around and run.

Flynn opened the door for me, and I shot him a grin before heading through myself. My parents came rushing into the foyer as soon as they heard the door open, and Flynn's parents came strolling in behind them, noses still in the air.

A little high and mighty for people whose son had run out the backdoor, but they were fae nobility, so I really don't know what I was expecting.

"You..." I fought to hide a smile at my mother's breathy voice, prepared for the usual outrage at the state of my dress. "Were you with the Lord Hawthorne's son?"

I frowned, then glanced sideways at Flynn. He just shrugged, a carefully neutral expression on his own face.

"We ran into each other, both on our way back here," I said. I didn't want to admit that we'd spent the day together, especially unchaperoned, lest my parents freak out and make a bigger deal of things than necessary. My mother narrowed her eyes, and I swear I could see her wrestling with herself over whether to be happy I wasn't immediately trying to chase Flynn off or disappointed that he might be a troublemaker too.

"Well, now that you've finally deigned to grace us with your presence," Flynn's father said to him, voice dripping with sarcasm, "perhaps we can finally sit down for that dinner to discuss the future of our two families."

The parents all shared variations of huffing and as they turned towards the dining room. As soon as the last one had their back to us, I glanced at Flynn.

"...I was expecting more of a lecture," I said. Flynn nodded, looking pleasantly surprised.

"So was I. My father's been known to break records for pontificating when he gets the opportunity."

We looked at each other for another moment, both of us processing. The only difference between every other dinner I'd attended like this and now was Flynn, and the fact that I wasn't being openly hostile towards him.

Before either of us could speak again, our parents called from the other room, snapping at us to hurry up. Flynn shot me a devilish grin, then held his hand out to me.

"Shall we?"

I paused. If I walked in there holding Flynn's hand, I knew I'd almost never hear the end of it or him from my mother. But faced with the choice between that and being thrown at another new potential fae suitor, one who wasn't Flynn...

"Let's do this," I said, grinning back as I took his hand. We strutted towards the dining room together, our heads held high. It was far too early to say anything for certain, and I still had no intention of getting married to a fae lord any time soon. But I couldn't help thinking of how much more fun this whole process was going to be, now that I'd gained Flynn as a partner in crime.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21 @diego42

Maasverse Taglist: @lilah-asteria

[thetarttfuldickhead]

With minutes to spare, I posted my contribution to the Roy/Jamie Valentine's Day Ficlet Exchange 2025!

Hop on to AO3 or scroll down for misunderstanding, secret relationships, Jamie Tartt's canonical daddy issues, Ola Obisanya's canonical father of all fathers-ness, and Roy and Jamie being their usual messy selves. Happy Valentin's, y'all!

Write Songs About It

Jamie’s favourite spot, Ola learns, is "not really about the food, right, it’s more of a club really, but a friend—Keeley? Sam’s told you? Yeah—she said there’s this Italian place near Mears Walk that does a good lunch".

Over white bowls of fragrant pasta Jamie elaborates on fashion (I’m telling you, jonquil’s going to be on everybody this year); on aquatic geopolitics (and it’s so sad about the whales, innit); and of course on football (might not win this year, but we’re contenders, yeah? Next year’s ours for sure, Roy’s gonna get us there).

When Ola speaks Jamie is silent and attentive, hanging on to every word. The eager regard is flattering, and makes something in Ola twinge in sympathy.

---

It was supposed to be Samuel, of course. But: as father and son pulled apart from their long hug and Samuel said you should have told me you would be a day early, I would have picked you up from the airport and Ola replied I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you the restaurant door was pushed open and Jamie Tartt, dressed to the nines in the colours of the rainbow, sauntered inside.

“Hey, Dayo, did I leave—“ He caught sight of father and son and paused, brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you still doing here?” he asked Samuel. “Thought you were supposed to pick Simi up around now.”

“Oh.” Samuel cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um. Yes. I will give her a call.”

Raising his eyebrows, Ola tutted disapprovingly. “Samuel, are you supposed to be on a date right now?”

“Yes, well, soon, but… You are here now. Simi will understand.”

Jamie looked doubtful. “Not sure she will, mate.”

“No, no, I’m sure she—“

“Samuel, go. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself for the 350 days a year when I don’t see you, I am sure I will be fine for an afternoon.”

His son still looked hesitant, the dear, dutiful boy. Before Ola could encourage him further, Jamie jumped in, “Your dad’s right, lad. Better go make sure your girl don’t run off with some other gorgeous restaurant-owning football. Bound to be loads of ‘em.”

Ola very much doubted that, but the comment had the desired effect, and after profuse promises of lots and lots of time spent tomorrow, Samuel rushed off, leaving Jamie and Ola alone in the dining room.

“Sorry about that,” Jamie said, absentmindedly running his hand through the carefully styled hair. “Took ages for them to get together, right, and Simi’s not really the romantic type, so Sam was dead excited when she agreed to a Valentine’s date. Be a shame if he missed it. But, I’m sorry you don’t get to spend the day with him. I know that he… ” He trailed off, bit his lip. “He was really looking forward to seeing you, yeah? Been talking our ears off all week.

There's something wistful in the young man’s voice, and something sad.

Ola knew enough of him to know why.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said lightly. “Perhaps you would care to join me for some lunch instead? If you are not too busy, of course.”

Jamie pointed to himself, eyebrows raised in question, as if there was anyone else around that Ola could have possibly meant. “Me? Uh, yeah. Sure.” If the vocal response was somewhat muted, the smile on his face was anything but. “Did you wanna eat here, or… ?”

Ola put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder, gently steering him towards the door. “As much as I love Nigerian cuisine, and especially Nigerian cuisine as good as my son’s, I find it refreshing to try new things when I’m abroad. Please, take me to your favourite spot.”

---

So yes, it was supposed to be Samuel, but Ola can’t find it in him to regret ending up on an uncomfortable brown bench opposite Jamie Tartt. The boy is easy to talk to, funny and opinionated and thoughtlessly charming. Strangely shy but pleased when asked about himself, and seemingly as keen to hear what Ola has to say as he is to hear his own voice.

It is, just as it had been the first time they met, very hard to recognize in this Jamie the selfish and cruel young man Ola had once sensed the shape of in Samuel’s evasive comments during his first few months in England. Hard to reconcile this Jamie’s easy grin with the arrogant sneer of so many post-match interviews in that first, difficult year.

Now Jamie’s smile is wide when he details Samuel’s exploits on and off the pitch. Samuel finally getting together with Simi had been the big news of that week, he assures Ola, everyone’d been waiting for it, you know?

“It was about time!” Ola agrees, signalling for the waiter to indicate that a desert menu might not be unwelcome. “But what about you, Jamie? Is there no one special in your life?”

Jamie doesn’t answer immediately. His fingers find the serviette, pick at it. ”Uh, yeah. I mean, no.” A shrug. “Maybe. I guess it’s complicated."

“Oh? And how did you meet this complicated person? Is she one of Jamie Tartt’s many adoring fans?”

The smile is quick, bashful. “Nah. Met through work, didn’t we. But h-, uh, she isn’t complicated. I mean, I guess they are. But mostly it’s just… Yeah. Bit complicated because of the club and that.”

“Ah, I see,” Ola says, not entirely truthfully. “So you have no big plans for Valentine’s Day?”

Jamie shakes his head. “I don’t know that they’re into romantic stuff anyway.”  He pauses, considering. “Or, maybe they are, but… not with me, I figure.”

“Not with you? But you are dating?”

“Eh. Dunno. It’s like… We,”—he glances at Ola—“do things, yeah? Like, you know. Adult things. And we hang out. A lot. But it’s not really… “ He makes a face. “Not like we can go on dates anyway.”

Ola puts the dessert menu down, frowning, as alarm bells go off in his head. Someone Jamie has met through work; someone Jamie cannot be seen with because it would be complicated for the club… Add the facts together, check the sum, and it sounds suspiciously like what Samuel had told him about his romance with Rebecca Welton.

Samuel’s boss.

Jamie’s boss.

Ola has – reluctantly – accepted that Richmond’s owner had not meant to take advantage of Samuel (Dad, I promise, she’s even more concerned about it than you are!). Her ending the affair has mollified him somewhat. But if she is once more taking one of the club’s players to bed...

“Would you want to?” he asks carefully, not sure how to broach the subject without pushing too hard. For all his filial piety, Samuel had not responded well to Ola’s suggestion that the match was a bad one; you had to let these young men discover such things for themselves. Still, a gentle nudge in the right direction could not hurt.

Jamie takes a sip of water. “Would I want what?”

“Go on dates with this person.”

“Oh.” Jamie shrugs again. “Not up to me, is it.”

 “No? Surely you should get a say in whether you go on dates or not?”

“Eh. Not really? I mean, they pretty much decide on everything we do.”

“They decide everything?” The alarm bells blare louder still. “That does not sound very fair to you.”

Jamie gives him a blank look. “No, I love it.”

Ah. Well, Ola won’t be touching that. “I see. But even if that is the case, if there is something you are missing in the relationship, you should be able to say so.”

Jamie looks doubtful, but gives a nod all the same. “I guess. Hadn’t really thought about anything missing, to be honest. I like what we have, yeah? But maybe it’d be nice if we were… you know… more.” He looks at Ola a little uncertainly, as if he is wondering if he has gotten that right—and Ola nods encouragingly.

“Absolutely.”

Hiding one’s love away never works in the long run. And Jamie certainly deserves someone who is not afraid to show him off.

Besides, if Jamie makes it clear that he isn’t content being just a pretty boy toy, Rebecca might realise her mistake and break the affair off, just as she had done with Sam.

That really would be best for everyone.

“Yeah,” Jamie says slowly, nodding again, more decisively now. “Yeah, all right. I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” Ola says, favouring him with a warm smile. “And now, for pudding… “

They share a chocolate & hazelnut budino, and speak of other things. The restaurant empties as midday becomes mid-afternoon, and then Jamie has to leave for a barber’s appointment. (Jamie offers to cancel, and Ola tells him that is very kind, but also silly. Jamie offers to pay for the meal, and Ola tells him that is very kind, but sillier still.)

“Thank for this, Mr. Obisanya,” Jamie says as they stand on the pavement, hovering on the edge of goodbye. “I mean, Ola. It were nice.”

“It was my pleasure,” Ola assures him. He deliberates for a moment, hesitates—then he takes a step forward and pulls the young man into a firm embrace, just as he would have done Samuel. His gut tells him that this gesture will be welcome (needed), and is, as so often, proved correct when Jamie returns the hug.

“Take care of yourself, Jamie. And remember, I am here if you ever need to talk. Samuel tells me you are family.”

Jamie smiles at that. Ola smiles back.

---

The text comes through the next day, as Ola is preparing dinner while waiting for Samuel to return from training. It doesn’t say much, just Thanks for yesterday. Thought about what you said, and I have a plan underneath a bouquet of black roses.

Ola chuckles approvingly. Black flowers is a curious choice for a romantic gesture, but of course people can find romance in all sorts of things. Ayomide, for instance, is fond of Ola bringing her folded paper flowers—though he suspects that that has more to do with her knowing how difficult he finds the folding. She always did like him making an effort.  

Good for you! he sends Jamie. Begins to sing, as he sets to soaking the rice.

---

Ola waits until after dinner, when Samuel is leaning against him as they watch Ijogbon, before he asks, “Samuel, do you believe that it is possible that Jamie and your Rebecca are having an intimate relationship?”

“What?” Samuel pulls back to give him an incredulous stare. “No! No. I mean Jamie is lovely of course, but I really don’t think… Why? Dad, what did Jamie say to you?”

“He did not say very much, just that he had met someone through work and that it was complicated. Somehow, I got the feeling that this person was his superior.”

Samuel’s face goes very still for a moment, then he sighs, a soft oh, before lapsing into a long silence.

Ola waits patiently; eventually Samuel looks up, and offers, “Rebecca has been seeing a Dutch pilot since last summer and I think they are very happy together. But I think I might know who Jamie is involved with, and if it is who I think it is… then, yes, it would be complicated.” He pauses. “But good, too, I think. For both of them.”

This is a relief. Though it rather begs the question… “And you cannot tell me who this person is?”

“I’m sorry, no. I don’t think it is my place to tell.”

Ola gives a laugh, reaching out to tousle his son’s hair. “Ah! It is a shame I’ve raised you so well!”

Samuel laughs too. “Did Jamie say anything about else about this relationship?” he asks.

“Not really, but he sent me a picture of a huge bouquet of flowers, so I suspect he is planning a romantic gesture.”

“I… see,” Samuel says after a brief pause. “I hope he films it. I think it would be very interesting to watch.”

---

At the knock on his door Roy curses loudly. Whatever it is, he is not in the fucking mood. All he wants is to have his tea, read his book and then escape into the sweet oblivion of sleep.

It’s been a weird fucking day.

More specifically, Jamie has been weird. Now, Roy had expected some awkwardness at work back when they first started sleeping together, but to his surprise Jamie had seemed to have no issue separating their private sessions from their professional ones.

But then today, three months after their first hook-up, Jamie had suddenly started acting strange. Pretending he didn’t even notice Roy most of the time; throwing himself into intense conversations with whomever was nearest when Roy showed up. And yet, whenever he thought Roy wasn’t looking, he stared, eyes narrowed in a stupid-looking approximation of careful consideration.

It would have been funny, if it hadn’t been so annoying—and hadn’t made Roy so nervous.

To boot, the weather had been godamn awful, icy sleet coming down on them as the team ran their drills on the wet, slippery pitch. Once he blew the whistle on the whole miserable thing, Roy was too cold and too tired to confront Jamie over his behaviour. He went straight home instead, vowing to be in bed by nine.

And now it is just gone past six and he hasn’t even started dinner yet and whoever is at the door must have the code to the gate, and so must be someone Roy knows and trusts not to come bother him unless it is important.

Putting on his very best scowl, Roy yanks the door open. His frown deepens as his gaze fall on—of fucking course—Jamie and the frankly alarmingly large bouquet of flowers in his arms.

“The fuck is that?” Roy demands.

“They’re flowers,” Jamie says, sounding for all the world like he genuinely thinks Roy doesn’t realise that. “Jesus, Roy, didn’t think your eyesight—“ He cuts himself off, apparently deciding to save the insults for now. “They’re for you,” he adds, a little churlishly. 

Roy has gathered as much, and eyes them warily. Black roses. Bit obvious, but nice—though Roy isn’t going to tell Jamie that just yet. He wants answers first.

“Why?”

Jamie presses his lips together. Shrugs in that casual way that isn’t fooling anyone anymore. “It’s what people do, innit. When they’re, you know, together.”

“Together,” Roy echoes flatly.

“Yeah,” Jamie says, lifting his chin defiantly. “Together. Fucking hell, Roy, we work together and we hang out all the time and do fucking everything together and we sleep together. How much more together do you wanna be?”

“I didn’t say we weren’t together, you muppet!” Roy snaps, because he isn’t sure what’s going on here and he’s never been very good with either uncertainty or surprises. “It’s just… ,” he fumbles, “Fucking flowers? That’s something you want? Me to bring you… fucking roses and shit?”

It’s not thar Roy minds buying flowers, in general. He bought Keeley flowers all the time and he fucking loved how much she loved that. He just hadn’t realised that his and Jamie’s thing was a thing that ought to include flowers.

He sure as hell hadn’t grasped that his failure to bring them meant that they weren’t together.

Jamie sets his jaw mulishly. “And what if I do?”

And what if indeed. Roy grits his teeth, resigning himself to the truth even as he speaks it. “Then I fucking would. I will. If you want me to, I’ll… bring you flowers. Okay?”

“Yeah?” Jamie brightens. It pisses Roy off how much the sight of it makes him want to smile.

It pisses him off, in a whole different way, that Jamie would trust Roy to do absolutely anything with—and to—him, but not trust him enough to trust that Roy would bring flowers just because Jamie asked.

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Fuck. If it’s important to you, I’ll… I don’t know. Order a fuckton of bloody dahlias and have them delivered to your house first thing in the morning.” He looks up at Jamie. “Okay?”

Jamie waves a hand dismissively. “Nah, don’t bother, mate, I’m good. Don’t really care for flowers, to be honest. Kind of sad, innit, taking them in just to have them die in a vase.”

Before Roy can ask him what the fuck this is all about then, Jamie adds seriously, “But listen, I want us to do other together stuff, all right? I dunno, go on proper dates maybe. I mean, they’re gonna have be secret ones, but everyone knows we’re mates so it won’t be weird if we go for dinner, yeah?”

“We have dinner all the fucking time,” Roy points out, slightly outraged. He doesn’t spend every other night cooking for this twat only to be told they don’t have dinner.

“Yeah, here, after you’ve made me do a million burpees. Not the same, innit. You don’t even light candles.”

Candles. Is there supposed to be candles now? Or are those like the flowers, only metaphorical? “But I didn’t know you wanted that,” Roy protests. “You never said.”

“Yeah, well.” Jamie shrugs, looking a little defensive. “You never said either. We kinda just happened. And it’s been fine,” he quickly adds. “Fucking love it, yeah? And like, we can keep on doing what we’re doing, I don’t mind… but maybe it’d be nice to do other things too.”

Closing his eyes, Roy gives a short nod, his fuck nothing more than a sigh.

Because yeah. Maybe it would be fucking nice. Roy might have allowed himself to think that, maybe, if it hadn’t been so fucking easy to just… not. So easy not to talk about it, just let their coach-player dynamic seamlessly morph into something else off the pitch; into this gorgeous thing of Jamie looking up at him with his plump lips parted, pliant and eager, ready for Roy’s next command—or ready to await Roy’s pleasure indefinitely.

He’s a beautiful thing to have, Jamie Tartt on his knees, and he’s Roy’s best friend. Roy could lose the sex, maybe, but he couldn’t fucking lose that.

But if Jamie wants more…

Roy can talk about that. Jesus fucking Christ, he won’t shut up about that. (He’ll hate every moment of it. He’ll do it all the same. For Jamie, and the way he’s looking at Roy now. There’s understanding in those grey eyes, and doubt, and hope.)

“Yeah, all right,” Roy says. That’ll have to do for now. He still hasn’t had dinner. Adds, just to be clear, “But you don’t want flowers.”

“No.”

“But you want to go on dates.”

“Be mint, yeah.”

“Did you mean… right now?”

Jamie cocks his head to the side and grins. “Hadn’t thought, but yeah, all right. Since you’re asking.”

“I wasn’t,” Roy mutters, but he is already reaching for his jacket. There is this restaurant he used to take the dates he particularly wanted to impress to, and he is willing to bet he could still wrangle a table without a reservation. “Come on, then.”

---

CODA

Perhaps he shouldn’t, but as Ola prepares to board the plane that will take him back home, he finds that he can’t not. He picks up his phone and sends Jamie a message:

It has been good to get to know you over the past few weeks. I hope things are going very well with your complicated someone.

It’s not fishing, as such. Just a reminder that Ola is there for Jamie, in his corner and rooting for him.

There is no immediate answer. The gate opens and Ola puts his phone away. When he pulls it out a few minutes later to turn it off for the flight, there’s a text from Jamie.

It only reads Going well, yeah but attached to it is a picture.

Jamie’s grin is as cheeky as ever, but his eyes are blazing and awed. Roy’s frown is as deep as ever, but is betrayed by the soft smile he can’t quite suppress.

Ah. Ah, yes. He understands now why Jamie and Samuel had called it complicated.

Understands, too, why Samuel had called it good.

He wonder what to write back; how to convey the approval and care and pride that is not strictly speaking his to give.

In the end Ola settles for the simple truth: I am happy for you.

Author's note

You know, I rather suspect that big, warm father figure Ola would get a very different Jamie Tartt experience than most others…

Huge thanks to destinatontoast for cheereading and very helpful suggestions, and to jedasaur for putting this whole thing together!

I didn’t mean to crash over the word limit like that, but unfortunately I’m incapable of keeping it short and sweet so here we are.

I'd tag the recipient but either they've changed their Tumblr or they have me blocked, which would be awkward and very, very funny.

[koyaildoesstuff]

So this one’s going to be a bit of a heavier post, but I just need to kinda ramble about my physical and mental health. My mood swings fueled this. If this post disappears after you read it, I’ve probably privated it.

I’m just going to let my adhd take us wherever it does, so I’ll add trigger warnings as I go, but I know it’s probably going to mention self harm, depression, dysmorphia, loss of weight, nausea, eating disorders, and sexual assault (while we were both minors). Huge Tw for that one

Please do not feel like you have to reply to this post if it gets really dark. I really don’t know where it is going to go, but if it is heavy on the depression or other hard stuff, just know that I am in no danger currently. Please prioritize your own mental health 💜

So if you saw my other posts, you can tell I’m in over my head. I can already feel myself slipping into an episode. I was doing so good too. I just want to be happy.

I’m starting an ssri tomorrow. I hope it does something. I’m so used to taking medication and it just not working so I’m just taking a side effect pill. I wanted to get off of my current “mood stabilizer” which isn’t doing anything. She isn’t taking me off of it either, but she at least heard my concerns and gave me a valid reason why she didn’t want to take me off of it. Some of my other doctors haven’t been so nice. I hate hospitals. The brain fog makes it so hard to get anything done there, because I simply can’t remember. I feel so stupid all the time.

I’m also starting birth control for periods. Hopefully it doesn’t fuck me up too much.

Lastly, I was prescribed an anti-nausea medication. I was prescribed this in the past, when I was very sick and couldn’t eat, despite wanting to. I kinda just put two and two together that I haven’t eaten all 3 meals consistently for a few months now, and it’s gotten worse recently. I haven’t been able to eat full meals without gagging or having to stop before I can finish what I know I can eat, or need to eat. I hope it helps. I don’t know how gradually this happened, but I lost weight. I know it’s because of this, but it’s still kinda of worrisome. I want to be able to eat. I have a past of binge eating, and I’m worried that I might get in such a bad place mentally that I go the other way and start starving myself. I struggle heavily with dysmorphia, so I often stay away from a scale, but this also means I often think I’m heavier than I am. But I want weight loss to be on my terms, and honestly, I just want to be happy in my own body currently. But I’m not. Plus, I’ve had doctors not take my concerns with eating seriously before, telling me that I don’t need to eat all three meals (basically implying I should lose weight).

I really hope the ssri helps. I don’t know the last time I was happy. I started showing symptoms of depression in 2019. I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder two years ago. I spend more time in episodes than out of them too. I’ve struggled with self harm in that time too, especially this last year when the impulses to actually cut, instead of hurt myself other ways, got to the point where I had to avoid the bathroom, because I knew where the razor was.

I finally told my therapist that the self harm is still there. I lied to it with my doctor tho, because I kinda forgot I had a few moments this week. And I’m more worried with telling her those things. My therapist is no longer a mandatory reporter however, so I could finally tell her that I know damn well why I struggle with it, and that it never really went away. I think I’ve been clean since April. Well, mostly. I have had some moments where I’ve scratched my arm red. I have dermographia, so it doesn’t take long for that to happen or cause irritation. That happened like last week again I think. I can’t remember.

It was my first solo doctors appointment too, which was nice because I didn’t have to deal with my mom trying to speak for me, or if I bring something up, not have her be like “you didn’t tell me that.” I was able to tell my gp I have been sexually active in the past.

I haven’t told either her or my therapist that I was sexually assaulted, and that’s the other reason I wanted to go on birth control. My therapist kinda knows, because I did mention a Medusa drawing I was asked to make for my ex who did it. I mentioned I might get a tattoo at some point, then backpedaled hard because she would have to legally report that to my parents as a mandatory reporter. I have had quite a hard time validating my experiences, convincing myself that I wanted it too. She coerced me, and I didn’t realize it wasn’t consent until we had the local domestic abuse shelter come and talk to us about consent. It still doesn’t feel like I can even call it assault, when I know it is. And I don’t want to take any action, because she is still a minor, and could easily turn the narrative. I have no clue if this has affected me mentally. Tho I was in a very bad place when she did it, and the end of that relationship was the breaking point for me, and I developed anxiety tics. And now that I think about it, it kinda has. I haven’t been able to do anything with anyone else without regretting it afterwards. I would enthusiastically consent (as well as a teen could, which still shouldn’t be considered consent, but we were both still minors with my other two relationships as well), but then would feel icky down the line, even if there was aftercare. There’s just a lot of icky feelings surrounding all that. Which is about the time I wished I was ace and not aro. Because the romantic attraction just isn’t there, and I sometimes wish the sexual would have that same disconnect and I could have my romantic back.

I don’t know why I talked about that honestly. Kind of just one of those things, get it out to a bunch of strangers online (love you guys tho) and see if it helps.

I’m worried about my physical health. With the amount of stress I’m under, I’m going to go into training in a crash, I can tell it. I am also worried I’m going to fail my lifeguard certification. I’m going to be so tired, and now all the excitement I had for camp has turned into anxiety. Which is why I’m also worried I’m going to go to camp in the middle of a depressive episode. While trying new meds. And still being on meds that don’t do shit. And my headaches and migraines have been really bad the last few weeks. My migraine abortive med doesn’t work either. And the injection hasn’t started helping. And even once it does, I still need a working abortive, because it won’t stop them all. God, it’s just so much. I don’t even know why I wrote this. It will probably be turned onto private or deleted once I wake up.

If you read this, thank you. Especially if you’re a blog I interact with frequently. You guys make everyday a little easier. I’m off to bed, so I won’t see any notifications for a bit. Hopefully tomorrow goes well. This rant helped honestly. I have a hard time crying because of my meds, so I just end up emotionally numb, and this helped release some of that. Anyhoo, back to the regularly scheduled chaos and humor.

For those of you who don’t know, Borahae- the saying I use at the end of my fics or longer posts like this, means I purple you. It means I love you. So, Borahae and I love you peeps 💜

[houseswombat]

I risk stirring some shit but alright. I understand the controversy around the kiss, and I'm not gonna go there you're so not ready for the conversation.

I welcome a polite, argumentative discussion in the replies.

Disclaimer: I'm not a Thumbelina myself, and I've had my share of one-sided attractions (and ultimately rejections, or even mockery) from handsome-looking guys like Chase. I know I am what I am. I'm fat. And I'm not offended (took me a long time to get there, so I'm talking only about my experience here) or bothered by Chase's attitude or anyone else's. For those of you who have different views (and that's cool), trigger warning has been added. Please mind that I'm very blunt in my statements. It's not personal. just business.

So, let's talk about Chase hating on fat people...

An obvious explanation justification would be some kind of eating disorder, him being obese, and all that. Maybe, he watched his mother turn from a beautiful woman he's known into an obese mess? Drugs and alcohol have different effects on people, so what if she gained weight? Maybe, his mother would have another 'episode', and somebody (a nanny, perhaps?) would take him to spend some time outdoors. And that person would take him out to eat at cheap fast food chains and pocket the money they were given to spend on the boy. Chase'd start secretly (he knows he has to behave himself because if he doesn't, it means the Talk™with his father) hate those trips, but he doesn't have a say.

Now, this is an Eastern European speaking in me, but here’s another thought: instead of hanging out with a nanny, he'd be brought in (when things got real bad) to his grandma. Or some distant aunt who didn't show any affection to him, just did the basics — feed, bath, put to sleep. Either of them would stuff food into him, and he'd eventually loath these trips so much (again, as a result, he had gained weight and got bullied, for instance) that he'd associate those with, well, obesity, fat people and so on.

As much as I understand the desire to give his fatphobia a justification, a reasonable explanation of his a-hole behaviour, the more I keep thinking about it, the more I'm concerned one shouldn't try to justify it.

What if he hates them because he just...has no reason to? And also, isn’t the obesity is the first thing any doc would blame all your health issues at?

So yeah, throw stones your thoughts at me, I’m curious to hear them.

[thesparklingwriter]

taking fate into one's own hands

05—compromise

Word count: 1.5k

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Morax does not press you for a response as to what you plan to do regarding your shopping. A day passes and if he's honest, he finds it strange that you choose to silently cope with the little you have rather than reach out to him and ask for help. In fact, the help you brought with you seems to be more comfortable in the new surroundings than you are, fitting perfectly in with the staff.

“She will not engage with me.” Morax says to a frustrated Xiao, running a hand through his untied hair. A few unread letters litter his otherwise pristine desk, and the sleeves of his casual gear displace them further as he moves them out of his eyeline. His statement, despite not having the intended effect, is meant to calm Xiao somehow—to show him that the current lack of progress is not from a lack of trying. “I cannot help a person who does not desire it.”

“Then you should consider engaging with her.” Xiao’s hands remain firmly clasped behind his back. Morax might not be as much of a stickler for tradition as many think, but in situations like these, it’s best to err on the side of caution. Especially when Xiao is telling him something that he very likely does not want to hear.

“It is not my intention to smother her. She does not have to like me.” Morax says through gritted teeth. “We do not have to be friends.”

Xiao pointedly ignores the tension in the king’s frame. Perhaps he isn't lying, and he truly does not care whether you like him or not, but the origin of the king’s frustration is a topic of his curiosity.

“Some might say you are as stubborn as she is. Perhaps you might use that similarity to understand what she is experiencing.” 

Morax looks at Xiao properly then, and Xiao expects to hear a light-hearted reprimand, but it does not come. Instead, he hears a quiet, defeated, exhale.

Alanna too, finds herself curious at your actions. You have been taking your meals in your room after the dinner you had with his majesty, and if she had not known that you were out of fresh clothes to wear, she might have assumed that he had offended you somehow.

“Your Highness,” she starts, but the look you give her from across the room cuts her off.

“Please speak freely. I no longer possess the title you address me with.” you say quietly, sitting up from your sprawled position on your bed.

Alanna clears her throat. “Is spending time with the king so agonising that you’d rather don the same sleep gown for consecutive days than be with him?”

You sigh and close the cover of the book Alanna had kindly found for you whilst exploring the grounds. “I do not enjoy relying on others. If I were to go out to town, I would be forced to wear what I wore when we arrived. I will not be caught in such a predicament.”

In Alanna's opinion, your thought process will not serve you in the long term. In fact, the longer you spend refusing to leave, the harder it will be to express your needs when push ultimately comes to shove.

“Perhaps you ought to take the steps necessary to make your time here more agreeable.” Alanna notes the glare you send her way and sighs. “I am not suggesting you seduce him.”

“And I thank the Archons for that.”

“But I am suggesting that you use this opportunity to make a friend.”

“I do not lack friends.” You reply petulantly. However, having grown up with Alanna, you know you cannot conceal the truth from her. You had never truly ventured out of the palace’s territory unless it was on royal excursions, be it recreational or for charitable deeds. Perhaps you thought you were friends with the palace staff, but they likely thought of you as the child of their employer and nothing more than that, regardless of how friendly you were.

“Count them.” Alanna smiles. “And you are not to include me.”

Alanna chuckles at your silence, and the petulant look on your face as you try and fail to count a single friend you have. “Perhaps you might consider making your first friend today.” Alanna starts. You know where she’s going wit this and you glance at her incredulously. “He is not poisonous.”

“But he is unpredictable. He claims he does not want me as his wife, yet he invites me to dinner. He claims he will protect my family anyhow, yet will not allow me to remain with them. He is contrary, and that scares me.”

Alanna can’t help but stare at you. You are a completely different woman from the one who left her home less than a week ago. You never would have dared to utter the words you are now. You would have chosen instead to hold it in until your dying breath and never mention your feelings to anyone. And although she wishes she could have been the person to bring out this side of you and not him, she is glad that it has happened. Before Alanna can comment on this, there’s a knock at the door, and she excuses herself to the bathroom.

“Who is it?” you call out, adjusting your robe. It is unseemly to answer a door in such a state of disarray, but when you’re insisting on being this stubborn, there’s nothing else that can be done.

“Do you have visitors here often enough that you feel the need to differentiate between each one?” Morax replies, and you scowl at him from behind the door. If you had opened the door, you might have noticed the mirth and teasing in his eyes. Why must he have an answer for everything? Your silence seems to say enough to him, and he continues to speak. “Forgive me if I am speaking out of turn, but I am concerned for you. It is not healthy to be confined in your room for such a long period of time.”

“You are concerned for my wellbeing?”

“Yes.”

“You were not worried when you removed me from my home.” You hiss. Perhaps you are lucky that you cannot open the door in your current state of undress, for uttering these words to his face might have proved difficult. “You were not worried when you bought me like bread in a marketplace.”

“You seem to misunderstand my actions.”

“What is there to misunderstand? You claim you will take care of my kingdom regardless of whether I marry you or not, but yet, I am still here. What good does it serve you to house a woman you have no intention of marrying? Do you not see how that might cause someone discomfort?”

“The situation is tense. It is not my place to speak on a subject that does not concern me.”

“You cannot tell me the reason why I have been uprooted from my home, but you can pester me incessantly. You claim it does not concern you, but here I am, in your territory.” you scoff. 

“I am not in a position where I can tell you the information you are asking of me. I apologise. However, I cannot allow you to rot in your room out of hatred for me. I do not ask that you conceal or manipulate your feelings towards me, but I ask that you don't allow them to cause you harm.”

“My feelings cannot harm me anymore than you would.”

Morax’s sigh is exasperated, tired. He cannot reason with someone who does not want to be reasoned with. But he cannot allow you to return home any time soon, and when you can return, your people will need you more than ever. It is in your best interests that he provides you a place to thrive. And that he will do. He will succeed. He has never once failed before.

“I understand that your assistant has requested some clothes for you. My reason for being here is to deliver them to you.” Aside from the fact that you’re surprised Alanna was comfortable enough with others in the palace already to ask for such things from you, you’re surprised that the request was passed to the king himself. Surely a task like this is below his pay grade.

“Am I to believe that you don’t pay people to cover such menial tasks?”

“You are to believe that I do not have any ill will towards you.” He says lowly. “And if I had, you would have fallen victim to it already.”

His words render you silent as you consider them. It makes sense. Despite all the inconsistencies and things you don't understand, this line of reasoning makes sense to you. Is he truly just doing this out of the kindness of his own heart? Is he that kind of person?

You sigh heavily and open the door. Morax extends the package of clothes out to you, and you thank him. Perhaps if you weren't so occupied with your thoughts, you might have noticed the way his eyes scan you, taking stock of everything to make sure you truly aren't harmed.

“While I understand your desire to remain cautious—” He starts, but you cut him off.

“You are right. I was being unreasonable.” You hold the clothes to your chest.

“Those are not the words I would have used,” Morax chuckles, and the sound is so new to you that you forget what you were about to say. His expression softens slightly, and you find yourself looking at a version of him that you haven't seen before. “I have finished my duties for today, so if you wish to have a look around the palace or the harbour, I would be happy to accompany you. Or if you’d rather not—”

notes: the problem with me is that everything i write goes slightly to the left so although reader TECHNICALLY expressed a desire to go shopping on her own she didn't cause no clothes

Taglist: @tartigglez @ainescribe @blue-sapphire-ink

[ryuichirou]

Hey ryuichi, as an artist, how do you feel about Ai art? Do you think that Ai is going to replace artists? Do you think that Ai artists are real artists?

I'm curious to know your opinion on this matter.

Sorry for the late reply, Anon! I wanted to give you a more or less nuanced reply, so it took me some time to think about this topic.

I’ll start with the easy one: no, AI art isn’t going to replace all artists and it’s not going to completely eradicate art as we know it, because art doesn’t exist solely for the practical purposes. As long as people enjoy and feel passionate about making art, art is going to exist in one form or another. But that’s just stating the obvious.

And while there are people who are better or worse at coming up with prompts for the AI, as long as they don’t do any additional work based on the AI-generated image, I don’t consider it being art. I think art is about skill, taste and personality, and this simply isn’t it.

Are people going to lose jobs because of AI art? Unfortunately, it already happens, but it also doesn’t mean that artists are doomed and this is some kind of apocalypse. It’s very important to consider the scale of things, the possible developments, etc. Here are some points to consider…

First of all, if we’re talking about personal commissions and clients that opt to use AI instead of commissioning an artist for their project (or personal use), I wouldn’t say that it’s too much of a loss. I feel like this is exactly the type of clients who don’t tend to appreciate artists’ work and pay them fairly anyway, otherwise they wouldn’t even consider AI as an option. Many of these “clients” would never commission an artist anyway, so they’re not even a part of this client pool. I know that money is money, and some artists would gladly take even a low-paying job from a customer that often doesn’t treat them well (I’ve been there and speak from my personal experience back when I started to offer my commission services), but I am an idealist and think that we shouldn’t spend our time and energy on someone who doesn’t see any value in our work anyway. Not everyone has the luxury of throwing away people who pay you at least something, of course, these artists still need to eat, so that last statement remains an idealistic take from me, keep that in mind.

And if we’re talking about corporations that use AI instead of hiring artists, while it is a problem, I also feel like it’s going to backfire somehow – it kinda does already. Not necessarily in terms of the company getting backlash, but in terms of the lack of quality control over the AI art (if you don’t have any actual artists on board, how are you going to know if the art works or not?) and some other unexpected reasons that are definitely going to pop up.

AI is definitely going to transform the way we think about art and art-related jobs in general. Some jobs might get lost forever, but it happens all the time – there are other brand-new types of art-jobs that are going to start emerging out of thin air. Just like photography and Photoshop influenced the market and art in general, AI is going to do just that.

I’ll note that I don’t think companies are going to stop using AI altogether at any point of the near future though; it’s a very powerful and cost-effective tool, there is no way they are letting it go. AI is absolutely here to stay, and it’s going to evolve and become better and better, scarily better. But this is how I think we should approach it:

People whose work is used for the AI’s learning pool should abso-fucking-lutely give their consent to their work being used, or even better, be compensated for their participation. If there is a new AI that makes a point out of the participation in the learning process being voluntary and well-paid, I think it’d change the dynamic between artists and AI – so far it’s just stealing from them.

Ideally, AI should be used as a base and not the final product. Actual artists could get inspired by it during the brainstorming stage or work over it.

Whoever posts, produces or distributes content that was created with the help of an AI, should absolutely mark it accordingly. In my perfect world, there’re going to be laws about this lol In general, the whole thing needs to be reflected in law, so far it’s way too easy to abuse.

Not only marked, AI generated images should be banned from being sold lol You can press that button and type all the key words all you want, but the result is just a free image that anyone can use and cannot be monetized. I believe this final point would make the majority of AI users just abandon their desire to use it in general – if there’s no profit for them, they’ll drop out, and AI art can be used as a tool like it’s supposed to be.

As you can see, I have avoided saying that people who use AI art are “artists” because I don’t consider them artists. If they don’t transform anything and don’t bring anything new to the table, I, the most important person on this planet, will refuse to give them that title lol

As far as I know, actors and writers have achieved some guarantees against the use of AI during their strike..? I haven’t looked into it, so I don’t know. Also please, keep in mind that I’m mostly talking about illustrations, because this is what I do. AI affects other types of art too, and there might be nuance there that I’m not mentioning here.

In general, I don’t want to demonize AI, because I feel like it’s not a problem on itself, it’s the way people use it that’s brings problems for all of us. This is a very new technology, and we don’t know how to handle it just yet mostly because for the lack of the law system regulating it, this is why there are so many opportunities to abuse it.

Also also, when the novelty of the AI art wears off, we might end up with the resurgence of appreciation for “real human art” or something. We are waaaaay too prone to nostalgia not to go “god I miss it when actual people designed logos” one day, and believe me, whenever it happens, the companies are going to market their stuff as the REAL HUMAN ART by the REAL HUMAN PEOPLE so much that we’re going to get sick of it in 5 minutes lol. But hey, maybe it’ll end up being a reason to pay artists more.

Thank you for reading such a long reply! I don’t want for my blog to turn into a discussion board, so sorry in advance if you address this topic in future asks to give me links or examples and I won’t reply to you, but it depends on the number of asks. I’ll look through everything on my own.

[666writingcafe]

The Meeting

Author's Note: I'm combining all of the mini student council meetings from the original game into one in order to make it more realistic.

MC

"Why do we have to be here?" Luke complains fairly loudly. "We're not even officers!"

"I'm sure we will find out shortly," Simeon answers quietly. Earlier this morning, Diavolo texted the angels, Solomon, and me that he would like us to attend the student council meeting after school, but in typical fashion, he has yet to explain why.

If demons run their meetings like humans do, we're in for a long evening.

"I call this meeting to order," Diavolo announces. He sits at the front of the room. Barbatos is on his left, and Lucifer on his right. From the looks of it, Diavolo's the president, Lucifer the vice president, and Barbatos the secretary.

"Barbatos, roll call." Great. This is like a human world meeting. Thankfully, everyone is present, so Barbatos is able to take attendance fairly quickly.

"Excellent. Now, please take a moment to go through the minutes and suggest any changes that need to be made." Even though Barbatos gave the four of us copies of the minutes when we entered the room, I don't think any of us have the authority to do much more than read them. So, once I glance through the minutes, I spend my time doodling on the paper.

Satan makes the motion to approve the minutes from the last meeting, and Beel seconds it. Once the motion is passed, Diavolo states,

"Now, instead of rehashing old business, I want to jump straight into the point of today's meeting. As you all know, the school festival is coming up, and we need to make sure everything runs smoothly. We cannot under any circumstances allow a repeat of last year's disaster."

"The first step is to select a leader for the school festival committee," Lucifer adds. In that moment, I realize why Diavolo asked us to attend the meeting. Flipping the minutes paper over, I write,

One of us is going to get asked to lead the committee.

Since Solomon is the closest to me, he's the first one to see my note. He leans over and whispers in Simeon's ear, who looks over at me with a quizzical look on his face.

Diavolo, Lucifer, and Barbatos are too busy to lead effectively. Mammon is unorganized, Levi and Satan are quick to anger, Asmo would get too distracted with flirting with everyone, Beel wouldn't be able to focus long enough, and Belphie would sleep through the whole thing.

"That's true," Simeon murmurs. It's Solomon's turn to write.

My money's on MC. This place would freeze over if an angel led the committee, and I know that people don't trust me enough to do it.

"What about my classes?" I ask.

"I'm sure everyone in this room would be more than happy to help you make sure you get everything done," Solomon answers softly.

"Then it's settled." I push my chair back and stand up, ensuring that all eyes are on me.

"I'll do it," I say loud enough for everyone to hear. Diavolo smiles widely.

"I am so glad you volunteered, MC! You were the person I had in mind anyway, but I didn't want to force you to do it if you didn't want to. By having an outsider plan the festival, I hope to make the festival exciting again." Barbatos is the only other demon in the room that doesn't appear shocked. Instead, he simply states,

"Someone needs to make the motion." The silence that ensues makes me second-guess myself. After all, has a human ever led anything in the Devildom? What if I mess up and ruin all of the work that has been done over the course of the exchange program? Would I even be allowed back? Would anyone?

"I make the motion that MC becomes the leader of the school festival committee." I thought Belphie would be asleep, but he's wide awake with a serious look on his face, as if he's daring anyone to challenge him.

"I second it," Beel quickly replies. The motion passes unanimously, allowing Diavolo to continue the meeting.

"Your first task is simple, MC. The student council is going to be participating in the festival, just like all the other clubs and student organizations. The question is just what exactly we're going to do."

"Well, I've helped set up a cosplay cafe, a haunted house, and a band, but I don't think any of those options would suit this particular organization as a whole," I reply.

"That, unfortunately, is true," Satan responds. "The student council officers are supposed to set a good example for the rest of the school. We can't do something that would damage that reputation, and everything you just mentioned has gone horribly wrong in the past."

"Good to know." I pause. "Have you guys ever put together a play?"

"No, but that doesn't mean we couldn't do it," Beel answers.

"I think it's a terrific idea!" Asmo exclaims. "I mean, we have everyone we could possibly need in this room."

"What sort of play did you have in mind?" Diavolo asks.

"I haven't thought that far ahead just yet, but between myself, Satan, and Simeon, I'm sure we can come up with something entertaining."

"Really?" Mammon complains. "I get Satan, since he's a giant bookworm, but Simeon? What does he have to offer?"

"If you would like to know my credentials, Mammon, I'd suggest taking a peek inside Levi's room." There's something sinister in the way Simeon smiles at the Avatar of Greed, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

"I don't want him in my room!" Levi shouts. "Besides, what does that have to do with you, Simeon?"

"Because you have one of the largest collections of my most famous work." It takes a second for Levi to understand what Simeon is saying, but once he does, his eyes widen.

"You're the author of The Tale of the Seven Lords?!"

[c0lony-c0llapse]

I made an account just for this lol. I'm coming out of a place of genuine curiosity and wanting a convo with these questions btw.

What exactly are some of these changes you want "leaders" to make regarding the hive? It seems to be a big focus of this account but I'm still unsure what the goal is. (Besides getting the hive taken down, I'm sure it'll be back up again soon)

What do you mean by boycotting the hive? What would this look like? How does this play out?

What are a couple examples of this identity discourse? I'm not on the gaehive often so I'm not sure what this is referring to and wanna know more. Hell, what are some examples of corruption as a whole in the hive?

Sry for the yappingggggggg

Some platforms:

One rule for TW's instead of TW lists (do unto others rule)

Focus more on taking breaks and not relying on GAEHIVE for mental health services.

More training requirements for managers.

Make manager positions temporary (1-2 years) with re-election options.

Managers chosen by curators.

Managers cannot have identity discourse preferences in their bios.

Events / time periods / promote going outside, doing hobbies, giving euphoria to others, etc.

Boycotting means picking a day and having many people don't comment on the GAEHIVE, and asking curators how they feel at the end of the day. Boycotting shows managers that GAEHIVIANS can and will leave, and shows curators that there is more to life than spending time on the GAEHIVE.

Common identity discourse topics:

"endogenic" DID

Lesboys/turigirls, also known as he/him lesbians or she/her gays

M-spec lesbians, bi lesbians, pan lesbians, et cetera

Political parties + beliefs

Religions

Paraphilia/age regression/objectum

"Neurodivergent" disorders, what counts and what does not

The word "Latinx", for some reason.

Pro/antishipping

If nonbinary people are transgender

"Transfem AFABS" or "Transmasc AMABS"

AXAB / what counts as intersexuality

What counts as a disability/what counts as ableism

Tonetags. Can you use them? "If you use them with me I will scream at you because my profile says no tonetags! In Russian! 80 lines down my bio"

What TWs are necessary for what people

DNI's and their effectiveness, can managers have them?

Radqueer, transrace, transage, transabled, transgroomed

And more. (I am sure commenters will have more options)

Those are simply the ones off the top of my head.

I have heard experiences from people that say they saw people be harassed (or were harassed) for having conservative political beliefs, not understanding neopronouns, replying to comments, and even identifying as Jewish.

Ask anyone about corruption in the hive. Ask if it is a popularity contest and they will agree. Only popular people get euphoria, or sympathy, or replies, or advice. Ask people who were in crisis if they got advice or if they were silenced. Ask if managers elected their friends and not the best candidates. It is obvious.

Thanks for creating a Tumblr account for me, anon! Hope this answers your questions. >>

[raamitsu]

Imagine telling me that everyone's life is not revolving around Palestine because you got shits to deal with - while you yourself haven't reshare a single beneficial resource regarding Palestine but in the end, I was the one doing too much for calling out the proclaimed "human activists" artists/celebrities when they are being ignorant and silent in this situation... I'm sorry but it's hard for me to even considered you humane.

I have been wanting to say this for days, weeks. So far, I received two responses that gave me a huge heartache to the point where I could have lost my hope in humanity after witnessing more of them on the other sides. Ironically, even though it was said by the same person TWICE (I noticed after checking them) I realised what I am about to say may sound dramatic to yall but it's just that- I would never thought that [me] being advocated and vocal regarding the massive disastrous ethnic cleansing that is happening in Palestine right now would have brought me to this [type of] "human"; who said to me explicitly that our life is not revolving around Palestine and its people because we have shits to deal with + saying I was doing too much for calling out artists/celebrities to educate or at least share awareness to their fans and that these bare minimums aren't their obligation.

Not gonna lie, I was totally in complete shambles and heartbroken to read them. Funny, because NOBODY asked you to ignore your life and stay on the phone/computer 24 hours a day straight just to be actively advocative - NOBODY. We all understand how complicated everyone's life is, especially for us who have bigger shits to deal with - financial, family, job seeking etc. — HOWEVER, if you could spend your little time responding as such into sharing crucial and beneficial information (PREPARED BY OTHERS, mind you, and that is why we said you don't have any excuses to be ignorant) + donations and so on instead, that would have been greater and meaningful. That little time you used on other stuffs can be used for a little awareness too. I promise you it won't even take hours to reblog as well.

And as for the artists/celebrities, do you have any idea that their power alone could make a change? Some of them have came out (unfortunately most of them are underrated ones), shared, spread contents for awareness and even opened a donation links to aid the effected victims of this ongoing war crimes, and you're telling me that they have "have no obligation"? As a human being, when it comes to responsibility, that comes along with obligation as well. We gotta show up for the others too. How is you as a human, dare to just sit by and watch this atrocities every day and CHOOSE to go on with your life without guilt feeling? Dare enough to talk about "obligation" in regards of sharing and spreading awareness is like saying these artists/celebrities needed to experience wars/war crimes in order for them to "feel obliged" to advocate for human rights. It sounds so outrageous to me.

Even so, I cannot say I am not disappointed because unfortunately I utterly AM disappointed. I have been heavily upset with humans around me for so long, now why do I need to face these type of people again? Where your humanity and empathy lie? Where are they when both are crucially needed in the times like this? Where is your existence lies? Where is your presence?

I'm truly sorry as this post is beginning to get longer than I planned but I guess it is what it is, then. I have blocked that person, by the way. As usual, I won't reply to this type of response and will immediately get blocked. I took my time just to make myself clear that I have no time to argue with these type of reponses, but I won't just sit by and let this slide again. I hope that everyone, mutuals or not, will never condone this behaviour and continue to advocate, spread awareness when you have time in your hands. We need to keep our voice afloat whether or not the ceasefire is implemented. Keep protesting and boycotting. Keep doing what we need to do online, if we can't do bigger things offline.

[addcests]

you. and i :: chapter four: are - ao3 mirror ??? :: series - ao3 link

pairing DBr x Dom

words 581

rating [G]

summary Doom Bringer opens his eyes. - five times doom bringer spends together with dominator. and then one more time.

note sleepy dbr is sleepy! <3 he deserves the rest

Doom Bringer opens his eyes … but something gives off the impression it’s been awhile since he—

“Go back to sleep.”

He doesn’t need to see to know that voice belongs to Dominator.

“You’re very warm… “ the scientist whispers, just for him.

With that little context, Doom Bringer assumes they are in bed together, he must have fallen asleep then. And just as thinks it, Doom Bringer takes in the feeling of their bed and how it contrasts. His side was always firm and sturdy, better for his back he would tell Dominator. He knows if he rolls a little closer or turns over to face Dominator, he will find the softer side, fluffy just how Dominator likes it.

Like sleeping on clouds. 

Doom Bringer remembers the cue to reply, and thus hears how he responds, “What am I? Your heater?” It’s mirthful, and now he’s unable to resist the pull he has to Dominator, switching from the position on his back, he turns so he can prop an elbow up to stare at Dominator.

Who has also been awake and staring back at him.

“Yes,” Dominator affirms, muting a giggle that slips out. “It’s cold on my side.”

“If you scooch any closer, I’ll fall off of the bed.”

“And wouldn’t that be fun?” Dominator delights in this. There’s no surprise here, just their usual banter, and Dominator being clingy. A little unusual, but not uncommon. Perhaps the scientist missed him. (Though, he shouldn’t need to, he’s been here with him after all.)

The brawler wants to sigh, but instead he finds himself shaking his head and drawing Dominator closer, just as he wants. “I thought I was supposed to be the menace.” As he takes Dominator into his arms, he realizes that Dominator is also quite warm. It has a calming effect.

It makes him feel cradled and cozy, he feels his eyelids falling and getting heavy.

“You should really try to rest though,” Dominator insists, close as he can be.

His eyelids are getting heavier.

“I'd rather stay awake,” but as soon as the brawler is allowed those words, he feels himself growing heavier with sleep, as if body is agreeing with Dominator that he should rest instead. 

There’s some pause, hesitance coloring his words as Dominator replies, “You do so much… it’s best if you rest. Aren’t you the one always telling me the body needs time to recuperate and repair and it cannot do so unless it rests?” 

Well that’s not fair. Just like that will he go to sleep then? Doom Bringer suddenly understands how Dominator must feel about all his nagging.

And his eyelids are so heavy, he’s doing everything he can to keep them open.

He jolts awake, but just as fast black dots the edge of his vision, his heart thrumming slowly to the beat of his breaths like Doom Bringer knows he’s about to fall into the land of dreams regardless of what he wants currently. 

There’s a muffled sound in the distance, which is odd because he’s right beside Dominator, the sound should not seem so far away and yet it is. He wonders what the sound is. It sounds like his name again.

He supposes Dominator got up and is some distance away, perhaps and he’s calling for him. But, he’s so sleepy now…

(But was he really? He had felt so awake mere moments ago, and now Dominator is gone too.)

Soon enough, Doom Bringer fades once more.

[sunsetwanders]

Left my heart in Hong Kong

31 December 2016:

It was only on the plane back to Sg and having a conversation with my cg member during thanksgiving that I realised that being in Hong Kong has probably changed me. Maybe it is just a “holiday effect” and me having withdrawal symptoms (I really, really miss HK), but I seem to have become more “I” hahaha. I realised that being abroad alone had forced me to step out of my comfort zone to socialise more, perhaps for fear of missing out. Even though I was really tired on some days, had a lot of work to do, and just felt like crashing on my bed, I forced myself to hang out with my friends/colleagues when they called me to. I am a Cantonese but I could barely utter a word before I came to HK. But being around my HK colleagues and hearing them speak in the office also forced me to try speaking a bit of Canto e.g. when I am ordering my food which really helps!  And when my friends back home asked me what was my favourite part of the trip, I replied, “The fellowship - to just hang out and spend time with people.” 

I didn’t expect myself to say this, but I think my priorities have changed greatly compared to when I went for exchange in Europe two years ago. Back then, I was an Asian in Europe, and wanted to travel to as many places on my bucket list as possible. I had many regrets, because I stayed in my comfort zone of Singaporeans and did not hang out much with the locals or other foreign students. This time for HK, I had wanted to whack some travel destinations such as Korea, Taiwan, China, etc. But somehow, I estimated that I did not have a lot of weekends in HK (about 7 or 8) and that was my only free time since there’s work 5 days a week. In the end, I chose quality over quantity and decided to spend my days here exploring HK thoroughly. I am happy to say that at the end of my trip, I forged many friendships and built rapport among my colleagues. Indeed, there was a lot of favour and opportunities from God in my work, and I am so blessed beyond measure by His grace. I hung out a lot with my colleagues, and managed to find out what they are like, how is their way of living, how different our cultures are, etc. I explored so much of HK, but there are still many, many more places that I want to go but have not had the chance to; as well as a lot of favourite places that I will like to visit again.

I remember when I first arrived in November, I was a little skeptical of HK, as it was so crowded, the stalls were so squeezy and crowded, hygiene standards were not that high, the streets were kinda dirty, etc. It was only in December when I really started to appreciate HK for what it was and what it boasted. I remember on my 3rd last day, I went for a hike to the Twin Peaks all by myself. I was smiling to myself when the taxi took me up to Parkview via Wong Nai Chung Gap Road. I used to be skeptical of going up the mountains in order to get to places like Repulse Bay because it did not seem safe and was a little inconvenient without the MTR. But that day, I was so happy because I could get away from office life and the bustling city into somewhere further away and enjoying the heightened view of the urban landscapes as I continue up the winding road. It was such a wonderful feeling, and I really began to appreciate the allure of HK. I enjoyed the hike to Stanley so much because it was so quiet and therapeutic, where I felt I could detox and straighten out my thoughts. Also, the adrenaline probably made me happier and I felt sooo good after the hike. I was glad that I did not go to Dragon’s Back the next day which will probably be flooded by tourists, where I did Jardine’s Lookout instead which was definitely much less crowded. 

I never knew HK had so much to its name. It has always branded itself as a place for eating and shopping (mai dong xi, chi dong xi) and I was quite sick of going to HK after visiting my brother there thrice when he was still working there. This time, I discovered a different side of HK which I loved, such as the hikes, the beaches, the nightlife, etc. Like what my colleagues say, maybe I have turned a little more blue blood when I came to HK i.e. start to like the sun more and go for hikes and to the beaches, start to drink more when I have colleagues constantly feeding me wine and cheese (the amount of wine and cheese I had on this trip is probably more than the amount I have had in my entire life), enjoying LKF, etc. But it is also because of my colleagues that I had so much fun on this trip: People in Rabo HK office are more vibrant and they have more social activities e.g. Friday night drinks below office, hiking trips, organized dinners and outings, and their dragonboat team in the first half of the year which I wished I can be part of!!! 

Hopefully, I have also discovered a different side of me when I was in HK, and I hope this will stay in me now that I am home. I think I like this person more.

Lastly, I thank God for His grace and favour upon my life. I am so blessed in many aspects (housing, friends, colleagues, work, opportunities) and have found so much favour in the workplace that it is indeed the work of God :’) I thank God for His presence with me as I am in HK, that He is always with me :)

[astra-nomy]

ASTRA'S BEST ADVICE: another long post (summary at the bottom)

To start off: doubts only hold whatever power you give them. I know I've said this a million times, but it's true. You hold all the cards here. All the power comes from you, and you can pick and choose which thought to give power to and which ones you don't. Yes, that requires some self control. Don't allow yourself to indulge in "What Ifs" and doubts. If they arise, simply acknowledge them, maybe even thank them for trying to protect you (I do this a lot when I notice I'm being too harsh with myself), and part ways with them. They do not serve you. They are powerless. Like I always say, treat them as itty bitty flies and swat them away. They are irritating, but insignificant.

You believe in yourself more than you think. When I was a year deep into my shifting journey, I used to say "oh I have a test tomorrow, so I'm not going to try to shift" and then I was like babe, clearly part of you believes you can shift because you're saying stuff like that? It took many instances of things like this to realize that it's not that I don't believe in shifting, it's that I'm unsure of my ability to do it. Even so, a little part of me believes I can, and that is enough to keep me going. Realize that you believe in yourself, probably more than you think. You wouldn't be bothering to read this post unless you thought you had a chance of success.

But even so, you don't have to believe 100% to be successful.

Go out on a limb. This is something I do when the doubts are just buzzing around my head and I feel like they're holding me back. I take a deep breathe and say to myself, "From this point on, I am acting as though I have no doubts because they cannot hold me back." or some variation of that. Basically I say that and then proceed to operate as though I know I will shift or I know I will wake up with my desires because I just set my doubts aside for a bit. They're still there, but I'm basically just ignoring them and acknowledging that they don't have any power unless I give them power. There is absolutely no harm in putting aside doubts for a bit, and it can be extremely helpful.

Don't scour Tumblr. If you're overcomplicating the law, chances are you're scouring Tumblr, looking for every little tip and trick you can find hoping to find that magical bit of knowledge that makes everything click into place. Spoiler: you're not going to find that outside of yourself. Looking for bit after bit after bit of information without actually applying the law is going to complicate the process so so much, so think about taking a step back. Write down how you plan to manifest, what's your "routine", no more than 2 to 3 steps. Write it down. That's your lifeline. Get off Tumblr, TikTok, Instagram, whatever social media you use to learn about manifesting and shifting, and turn back to those steps whenever you have the urge to get back on. Focus on what you already know instead of trying to learn more.

Try not to worry about shifting or going into the void when you're not actively trying to do one or the other. If you're like me before I successfully shifted, you're probably worrying about whether you're going to shift or not at time when you aren't actively trying to shift. You hype yourself up and psych yourself up before the moment even arrives. Stop doing that! Whenever it comes up naturally in your mind, just reply to the thought, "I am going to shift/go into the void tonight" and leave it at that. Go back to whatever you were doing before and don't spend a single second agonizing over something you haven't even attempted yet. If you build up those worries/fears/doubts/negative assumptions whilst you're not actively trying to shift or go into the void, you are just giving a platform to useless negativity that, if you let it, can effect your ability to clear your mind and give shifting/going into the void a proper go.

Decide, don't hope. Part of manifesting is deciding. If you're meek and "try" to manifest as though what you seek isn't certain to come to you, it won't. You have to be assertive. You have to be demanding. You have to claim what is yours and have confidence in your ability to manifest. Stop "hoping" to do something right. Tell yourself you're doing everything right, because you are, babes. Decide to shift, don't hope to shift. Decide you have your desired face, don't hope you affirm enough that you wake up with it. Claim what is yours with open arms and know you have the power to get it the instant you desire it. Have confidence. It's the key to acknowledging your own power.

Don't worry about undesired outcomes. I once heard that if you're skiing and you're worried about hitting trees so much so that all you think of is "don't hit the trees," you're most likely going to hit those trees. Instead, focus on the path. Don't think about what you don't want, think about what you do want. Give your attention to the right things and eventually they will become your reality.

TOO LONG, DIDN'T READ: A SUMMARY

✮ Your doubts only have the power you give them. All power comes from you, so don't waste your infinite potential on negative thoughts. They are itty bitty, pesky flies and nothing more. Swat them away and move on.

✮ You believe in yourself more than you think. Chances are you're not doubting the law, you're doubting yourself. But if you didn't believe in yourself at all, you probably wouldn't be here, looking for my posts. Realize that you believe in yourself more than you think. It's motivating when you're frustrated.

✮ Act as if the road is clear. Allow yourself to put all doubts and road block on hold for a minute. Assume there's nothing in between you and getting your desires. Operate under that feeling for a little bit and see what happens

✮ Stop scouring Tumblr! There's a high chance that you already know exactly what to do, you're just struggling to apply it. Take what you know now, which I can assure you is more than enough, and get off of Tumblr. Do what you can with what you know, and once you feel comfortable with that, come back for the extra tidbits.

✮ Don't worry about shifting/going into the void while you're not actively trying to do it. When you worry about it during the day, you build up expectations for something you haven't even done yet. That's unfair to yourself. Don't worry about it until you're actually doing it.

✮ Stop hoping and start deciding. Hoping for success does nothing. Deciding you already are successful paves the way to getting everything you want. Don't "hope" to shift. Decide to do it. Don't "hope" you wake up with your desired face. Decide you have it right now. Assert your power and confidence.

✮ Focus on what you want, not what you don't want. Give attention to the good and that is what you will bring about. Worrying about getting what you don't want does absofreakinglutely nothing. Focus on the good, don't even think about the bad. It's not what you're getting. You get what you assume you have, so assume the best.

CONCLUSION

I promised you guys another ABA and here it is!! I know this was a bit more "Don't do this" heavy and I am sorry for that, but a lot of my journey came from recognizing what I did wrong and adjusting. I'm sorry if I came off a bit strict as a result of that lol, it was definitely not my intention. I hope this helps you guys, and THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR 1,000 FOLLOWERS!! It's so crazy to think that this account I started just a few months ago (!!!) has gotten so so popular in such a kind community. Keep being kind to one another and I thank you endlessly for your love and support.

<3 Astra

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Game Night

"Can we please play a different game? Something we're all good at?" Sam whines for the dozenth time.

Peter gets momentarily distracted by Sam's poorly timed complaint, putting his foot on the space where you hand occupied.

"Ow." You instinctively flinch back, your elbow pushing in Nat's knee.

No one is able to catch themselves and like the domino effect, the intricate tangle of limbs all come crashing down. 

"Thanks a lot, Sam," Wanda sarcastically quips, picking herself up off of Peter. 

"You four are the only ones playing. The rest of us are just sitting here," Sam says, gesturing to the men sitting around him. 

"Aww..." Nat mockingly coos, holding her hand out to help you stand up off the mat. "Are the middle aged men not good at Twister?"

"I am not middle aged!" Sam seethes, crossing his arms as he sits further back into the couch. 

Nat condescendingly pats his shoulder. "If your joints click when you try to reach for a different color, you're middle aged."

Sam huffs, but doesn't offer another rebuttal, instead turning to the room, asking, "Doesn't anyone want to play anything else?"

"I'm good right here," Bucky says, sitting on the couch content to be a spectator to you playing Twister. "Don't mind one bit."

"Because you've been staring at your girlfriend's ass for the last hour!" Sam accuses. "What about the rest of us? The ones without pretty people to stare at?"

You playfully roll your eyes, sitting on the arm rest next to Bucky only to have him pull you down in his lap. Bucky shrugs, barely even paying attention to Sam anymore, "Sucks to be you."

"Maybe instead of your morning runs, you try some yoga once in a while?" Wanda teases, folding up the Twister mat. "Maybe your joints would stop clicking."

"Leave me and my joints alone," Sam grumbles, absentmindedly rubbing his shoulder.

"You should try it, it's really fun," Peter interjects.

"Peter does yoga with you and Wanda?" Bucky asks you, a conflicted expression on his face. 

"Sometimes," you shrug, turning back to the room before Bucky can say anything else, "We could play Uno?"

"No!' Tony firmly objects. "The last time we played Uno, I had to buy a new table."

"Well, maybe Sam'll think before plus-fouring me four times in a row," Bucky fumes. 

"Or maybe you should stop being a sore loser?"

"Or stop being a cheater!" Bucky accuses. 

"How about Monopoly?" Steve quickly suggests before Sam and Bucky get into another heated argument about the last game night.

The epic fights and meltdowns during the last game night really shouldn't have been all that surprising considering the room was filled with a bunch of superheroes all with egos as incredible as their abilities. You weren't really sure who talked Tony into having another game night or how exactly they talked him into it, but here you all were. 

"Sure, the financial crime game!" Tony sarcastically remarks, standing up off the couch. "They should make more of them, the Ponzi Scheme board game sounds like it'd be a hit!" 

"Great, it's decided then!" you exclaim, standing up to retrieve the game.

"Sarcasm, pinkie pie," Tony sighs. "That was sarcasm."

"We could always go back to Twister?" Bucky smugly suggests.

"No," Sam barks.

"Truth or dare?"

"What are we in high school?" Tony remarks, rolling his eyes. "No offense, Peter."

"None taken," Peter replies.

"Poker?" Sam suggests.

"How many people in this room know how to play poker?" Tony scoffs.

You, Nat, Tony, and Sam are the only ones that raise your hands.

Bucky raises an eyebrow at you. "You know how to play poker?"

"You don't?" you teasingly counter.

"She's pretty good too," Sam comments. "We played once and I thought I was going to win the hand, then she swooped in and robbed me blind."

"Yeah, I don't feel like spending the night teaching a bunch of amateurs to play poker. Pick something else," Tony sighs. 

"Well, since you keep shooting down our ideas why don't you pick something?" Sam retorts. 

After another 10 minutes of intense deliberation, you ended on a game that everyone had equal chances of success at. And for a room like this, that was an incredibly difficult task. Trivia wasn't a fair option to those of you separated from society for long periods of time. Any games with physical demands favored the super soldiers. Nat and Tony were eerily good at card games and anything with probability.

With all that into consideration, you ended up on a game that seemed to be the most fair: Pictionary. 

It then took another ten minutes of arguing to decide on how to pick teams. Tony argued the most fair way was to have FRIDAY do it. Sam argued that team captains should be picked and have them choose. Both your's and Peter's eyes volleyed back and forth as you watched the entire room descend into chaotic bickering. Bucky offered only non-committal grunts and one syllable responses. In the end, everyone ended up drawing numbers from a basket. 

There were three teams. Team 1 consisted of Tony, Bruce, and Peter. Team 2 consisted of Steve, Wanda, and Nat. And Team 3 was you, Bucky, and Sam - as luck would have it.

"Oh, because they've never worked together before," Tony sarcastically mutters about your team. "I thought the point of this was team building." 

"Are we not all on the same team?" Bucky counters, an arm wrapped around your waist to keep you seated on his lap. 

"The golden trio - reunited again," Sam cheekily comments as he moves from his stool to take a seat next to you and Bucky. 

"I thought we were the golden trio," Steve scoffs in indignation, gesturing to himself, Sam, and Bucky.

"Well... this is awkward," you mumble to Bucky. "Maybe we can be the silver trio?"

"Doesn't have the same ring to it," Sam objects.

"Why can't we have more than one golden trio?" you ask. 

"As thrilling as this dispute is," Tony interjects. "Can we please get back to the game?"

"Right," you nod. "James, you're up."

"Alright," Bucky nods, pulling a card from the little stack. He looks up at you and Sam, nodding with confidence, "We've got this one- piece of cake."

You give him a thumbs up for assurance as he walks up to the white board. 

"Your time starts....now," Steve declares, flipping the little plastic hourglass over. 

Immediately, Bucky begins scribbling on the white board, you and Sam follow his animation. Your lips pull in as he puts the marker down and steps aside to show you the full illustration. He holds up one finger. 

"One word?" you ask.

He eagerly nods, then starts making a film reel motion. 

"A movie?" Sam adds.

Bucky nods again, this time with even more enthusiasm. You and Sam stare at the strange drawing. You both simultaneously angle your heads to try to figure out what exactly Bucky drew. "Is that a sideways moon?"

"A banana?" Sam wonders, his head completely twisted to one side. "What kind of movie is about a banana?"

Bucky frantically shakes his head, tapping the board with the marker, only to haphazardly add a sail to his drawing.

"A boat?" you ask, to which he impatiently nods.

"And time is up!" Steve calls, a little too happy that your team failed epically. 

"Titanic!" Bucky shouts, almost snapping the dry erase marker. "How did you not get that?"

"Maybe if you were better at drawing we would've gotten that," Sam accuses, almost bursting out of his seat. 

"Why would I draw a banana? What movie is about a banana?" Bucky rants, pacing in front of the white board. 

"That was my question!"

"Hold on, this is what they want," you abruptly interject, pointing to Steve's smug expression. "They want us to start fighting. We can't let them get to us, guys."

Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes to feign innocence.  "Okay, Sun Tzu, whatever you say. Who's next?"

Despite picking a game that seemed to be the most fair, ironically, no one on the team is all that good at Pictionary. In fact, in your own ways, you're all equally terrible. 

Steve, ever the artistic perfectionist, carefully illustrates an image that probably would've perfectly captured the movie. But he takes too long to draw a single image and leaves his team no time guess what movie he's trying to illustrate. He tries to convince the room to restart the timer, and slinks back to his seat to sulk when no one allows him to. 

When it's Peter's turn, he's giddy with his chosen movie. He excitedly walks up to the white board and finishes his drawing with an incredible time. His fault was the illustration was too obscure for Tony or Bruce to even remotely understand. Tony tries to talk everyone into giving Peter another chance on the premise of being the only kid here. Sam simply guffaws in response. No one ever figured out the reference. 

With each team having been equally terrible, you all agree to another round - if only so at least one team can be a clear winner, or so one team can at least have one point to their name.

Sam refuses to stand up and face Bucky's wrath if they lose the round again, so you eagerly stand up off of Bucky's lap and pick a card from the stack. At the front of the room, you look at the card and you do your best to contain your cheeky grin at your lucky pick.

"Time starts...now," Steve grumbles, still upset about his painful loss from the previous round. 

You haphazardly draw a single circle. You place the marker back down and turn to Bucky and Sam holding up four fingers. 

"Lord of the Rings!" Sam blurts instantly.

"Yes!" you cheer.

"That you get?" Bucky bellows.

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Grumpy Sunshine Series Masterlist

[separatist-apologist]

End Game

I wanna be your first string

Summary: Lucien Vanserra has been in love with Elain Archeron for as long as he's known her. With time ticking down before her inevitable engagement to Graysen, Lucien only has one goal: convince her to be his

Note: You asked for We Never Go Out Of Style Elucien, so here you go. Thanks to @lucienvxnserra for the idea about the movie theater.

Read on AO3

It was slow motion, waiting to see if the ball was going to sneak past the goalie. Lucien couldn’t hear the roar of the crowd or even the beat of his own heart. Sweat dripped down his face, lungs aching. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease—

The goalie went left, tricked by the way he’d positioned his body. The ball went right. The world returned with the sound of a buzzer and the screaming of his teammates. Five bodies slammed into his own, nearly dragging him to the ground. Lucien was grinning, trapped among sweaty red jersey that reeked of exertion. He’d won on the penalty shoot-out, all but assuring their position in the playoffs, and more importantly, made him look really fucking good in front of those Premire and MLS scouts. 

He turned, scanning the crowd for the only face he wanted to see. There, halfway up and wrapped in a red and gold scarf, was Elain Archeron. She was grinning, waving a little flag beside blonde Arina. He exhaled a breath, relieved she’d seen it, too. Elain was hardly a soccer fan but she was his friend, and on occasion, she’d come and watch him play.

Lucien jogged over to them, still wearing his cleats, when the game was officially over and his team was done slapping his ass. Elain had a jacket wrapped around her body, a smile on her face…and Graysen’s promise ring on her middle finger. Any day now, Graysen Nolan was going to replace it with an actual diamond and it was going to be all over for Lucien. 

“Nice game,” Arina praised, wearing a whole ass blanket to ward off the autumn chill. 

“You did so well,” Elain added, eyes sparkling. Lucien wanted to be like Jurian just off to the side, making out with his girlfriend enthusiastically. Instead he was standing in front of Elain Archeron, well aware he had no claim to her. 

“Thanks girls,” he replied smoothly, hand on his taut stomach in an attempt to control his breathing. Elain was looking at it, likely with distaste given how disgusting he was. He needed to shower if he was going to stand before her, hopeful and foolish as he was.

“Want to get dinner?” Elain asked, eyes finding his face again. She’d glanced down at his shins, cut up and bruised from being kicked all night. Lucien really wanted an ice bath and to swallow an entire bottle of ibuprofen. If Elain was offering to spend more time with him, though…

“You two go,” Arina, the goddess, said breezily as she looked down at her phone. “I’ve got an exam at seven am so it’s way past my bedtime.”

“You sure?” Lucien asked her, just so he didn’t seem too obvious and desperate. “Dinners on me.”

She hesitated. “Tempting, but I shouldn’t. Seriously, go without me this time.”

Elain didn’t back out, looking up at him with expectant eyes. “Want to go now?” she asked.

“I ah…I should probably shower—”

“Oh—”

“But we can go now,” he amended hastily. “Just let me change my shoes.”

Lucien almost tripped over his own feet, embarrassing for an athlete hoping to play professionally and yet Elain still had the same effect on him she did when she’d walked into algebra back in high school. He’d never gotten a chance—Graysen Nolan scooped her up on day two while Lucien was trying to figure out what to say to her and hadn’t relinquished his hold.

Lucien couldn’t blame him for that. He wouldn’t have, either. They’d broken up briefly twice, and both times Lucien thought it made him a bastard to try and slide in and immediately take advantage of her. What kind of friend was he?

And that was half the problem. Lucien would take whatever she was offering, and if all Elain ever wanted was friendship, Lucien wanted to be her friend. Friends cared about each other and he loved her. Loved her so stupidly that when Graysen was making her happy, it made him happy. And miserable. And then happy again. 

Elain was still waiting in her thin jacket. Lucien draped his own much warmer, much thicker one over her shoulders before falling into step with her. She slid her arms through the sleeves immediately, turning her face to breathe into his collar. 

“Does it smell like sweat?” he asked, catching how she flushed.

“Nope. You do, though.”

“I tried to shower,” he reminded her, walking beneath the harsh stadium lights for the exit. There was diner just off campus, an easy walk despite Lucien’s aching legs. 

“I like you better this way,” Elain told him, unaware of how tight he suddenly felt.

“Oh? You prefer when I’m disgusting?” he replied, careful to keep his voice light. Still, he couldn’t help the fantasy that popped into his mind—sweaty for an entirely different reason. 

“It reminds me you’re still a real person,” she teased, poking him in the side. Lucien was tempted to shake out his long hair, well aware Elain liked when he wore it down. Not that she’d ever said so, of course, but Lucien paid attention.

He knew everything about her.

Everything but why she stayed with Graysen. He didn’t touch that topic and she very rarely brought Graysen up when he was around. It was both a blessing and a curse. Every morning Lucien woke up and checked his socials, terrified he was going to see Elain engaged. 

He pulled open the glass door of the greasy diner, swallowing his guilt a little. Elain picked a booth at the very end of the joint and he slid across from her though he desperately wanted to sit beside her.

“Is dinner really on you?” she asked, picking up a sticky menu with interest. As if he’d ever made her pay for anything since they’d met. What good was being a Vanserra if he couldn’t pick up her tab? 

“Always,” he agreed nonchalantly, wincing at the way his ass was aching. He’d fallen hard on the turf, likely bruising his tailbone.

“Are you allowed to eat any of this?” she questioned, looking over the menu. She was so pretty—her long, golden brown hair was half pulled off her face with a pretty red ribbon. She had a soft, baby blue sweater dress and even softer looking leggings with black booties that made her seem just a little taller. He wanted to touch her.

Lucien kept his hands to himself. 

“What coach doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Lucien replied with a wink. “And if I don’t eat something besides chicken and rice I might go insane.”

“I’ll bet your abs look great, though.”

“Want to see?” he couldn’t help but ask. They did look great, though fuck, at what cost? Elain’s eyes lit up, head nodding. Lucien glanced around—the waitress was too busy flirting with a table of firefighters to notice them. He lifted up his jersey and flexed as hard as he could, making him seem like pure, carved muscle. In a way, that was what he was—Lucien lived and died in the gym. If he wasn’t practicing or in class there was an expectation that he would be working out in the gym. Tack that on to this brutal diet and Lucien had never looked better, even if he felt like shit. He was counting the days until the season was done so he could dive face first into a whole loaf of bread and butter without anyone breathing over his shoulders.

Elain bit her bottom lip. “Yeah, you look uh…you look…great, I mean. You look great.”

She shook her head as though to clear it and Lucien’s heart pounded in his throat. He broke his only rule when it came to her as he lowered his shirt.

“How is Graysen?”

Her expression tightened. He shouldn’t have asked.

“Fine.”

Fuck. He went back to his menu, feeling like an asshole. He was going to get a mountain of hashbrowns, he decided. Slather it up in syrup and pancakes and maybe bacon—

“He’s sleeping with someone else,” she told Lucien, interrupting his thoughts about food. Lucien looked up, mouth open to respond.

The waitress, dress in a faux sixties poodle skirt, took that moment to come up and take a drink order. Elain went ahead and ordered an omelet, and Lucien was forced to order half the menu without breaking eye contact. He wanted a plate of bacon and didn’t think she’d understood him when he said it. He was imagining it to be a tower, but suspected he’d get four pathetic slices which would have to hold him over for another two months. 

Elain tucked a loose curl behind her ear when the waitress retreated. Lucien tried again, only to be interrupted yet again by milkshakes and orange juice. Truly a heinous combination but he didn’t care. He wanted it all tonight. 

Finally, they were given a moment of space. Elain wrapped her pink lips around her milkshake straw, one brow arched as he chugged deliciously cold, utterly sugary juice. He’d been dreaming about it. 

“Why do you think that?” he panted, setting his glass back to the table a little too firmly. 

Elain twisted the ring around her finger, face hardening. “Because I saw the video they made.”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Lucien voiced his thoughts, unsure what else he could say to that. “What did he say when you told him?”

“I haven’t said anything yet,” Elain replied primly, dragging another thick suck through her straw. “I haven’t figured out how to do it.”

Ah.

“I’m sorry, Elain,” he said. And he was. He didn’t want to see her hurt like this. Elain shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, I’m not. This is the third time. I have to be stupid at this point, thinking he’d changed.”

Third…?

“The other break ups…?

“I never had so much proof,” she told him, placing her hands flat down on the table. “And I guess I was afraid of throwing away so many years. It felt like wasted time. I’m tired though, Lucien.

You have all this time for me and I know you’re so busy but he never does. And I think about that all the time.”

His heart was pounding in his chest. “Of course I have time for you. You’re my best friend.”

Her smile didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I just want someone who can make time for me. I don’t think its asking for a lot.”

A heavy pause settled between them as Lucien struggled to figure out what he could say that wasn’t too heavy handed.

“You’ll find it,” he finally told her lamely, just in time for twelve plates of food to be set in front of him. “You’re great, Elain.”

She watched him, eyes wide. 

And it wasn’t until he went to bed that night, all by himself after dropping her off at her sorority, that Lucien wondered if she hadn’t been waiting on him to say something else.

ELAIN:

“Well?” Arina asked the next morning, bursting into their shared bedroom in the sorority house with expectant eyes.

“He’s so stupid!” Elain cried, tossing her curling iron to the vanity. She turned in her chair to look at Arina, her stomach still twisted up in knots. “It was practically a date! I asked to see his abs and he told me I was great. He said I was his best friend.”

“Oh, wow,” Arina breathed. “I was so sure he liked you.”

“Me too,” Elain bemoaned. “I was practically throwing myself at him. I couldn’t have been more obvious. I told him I wanted someone to treat me like he did.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to break up with Gray,” Arina said reasonably, flopping onto the twin at the far end of the room. Elain sighed. Fucking Graysen. What a waste of time he was. It didn’t help that Elain had woken up last summer after a particularly sexy dream about Lucien and realized she had a stupid crush on him. 

Now she was dragging things out unbearably. “I’ll end it today,” Elain decided. As if that would fix her problem.

“Maybe you need to get Lucien some incentive,” Arina suggested, eyebrows raised. “Invite him to the party tonight.”

Elain sighed. “How many slutty outfits can I possibly wear? I need a different tactic.”

“So true. Climb into his lap and start kissing him. He’ll figure it out then.”

“Maybe if he comes to see me at work,” Elain mumbled. She worked down at the old movie theater, affectionately called the Omni. It showed classic black and white films and was kept alive only because it was a heritage landmark and not because anyone came with any regularity. Halloween was one of their more popular nights. They’d swap out the pretentious art nouveau for Rocky Horror and pack the place to the gills. 

Elain looked down at her phone. Ignoring the messages from Graysen, she opened her chat with Lucien and sent Coming to visit today?

His response was immediate.

Can’t. Have to atone for last night's pancakes. Worth it. 

Elain sighed. In the gym again? I’ll bet you look great.

And Lucien, stupid as always, replied. I look disgusting. 

Elain glanced at herself in the mirror, dressed in tight shorts and just a bra. She couldn’t figure out if Lucien only considered her a friend or if he was exceedingly polite. There was, of course, only one way to really figure it out. She went to her closet while Arina fired up her laptop, no longer interested in Elain’s personal drama. Elain flung her hangers to the side until she found the green sweater dress she planned to wear for the day.

Elain peeled out of her clothes, staring at the white lacy bra on her body for a minute. Lucien was always working out and Elain was constantly telling him she ought to join him. An idea was forming in her mind. She stripped out of her bra and panties, replacing them with an obscene black pair she’d once bought thinking Graysen might like and then turned her camera on. She took a full body shot, admiring the way her ass popped from the angle she was posed. Even her breasts—fairly small, by all standards—looked really good pressed against the lace. 

Elain didn’t let herself think about her actions. 

What about me? Should I come join you?

She hit send before she could talk herself out of it and then tossed her phone to the bed so she wouldn’t have to see his response. She got her dress and her leggings on before she heard his buzzing response. 

Not dressed like that. You look amazing. I’ll see you at work today.

She bit back the urge to scream, a smile spreading over her face. That had to be a good sign, right? If he was willing to end things early and visit when he’d said he wouldn’t, all over one really good picture? Elain practically floated across Greek Row to Graysen’s fraternity and when Graysen met her on the lawn, she said nothing at all.

She merely held up the video on her phone and hit play.

“Elain,” he began as she shook her head.

“Dumb as fuck, Gray,” she replied. “This is over.” She pulled the promise ring off her finger and tossed it to the grass.

Good riddance.

“Elain!” he called, practically tripping after her. He was barefooted on the sidewalk, wearing only a pair of loose black basketball pants. She was sure he’d thought she’d come over to crawl in his bed. Why dress up for that? Why put any effort into this relationship at all? 

She hated him.

Elain waved Graysen off without another word, turning her back and stalking down the drive. Let him argue with a fucking wall. She wasn’t interested in how he tripped and fell into another woman’s pussy and somehow accidentally positioned his phone exactly right to get that video, too. 

Even if she had cared to hear him out, Elain knew it didn’t matter. She’d wanted Lucien for the last five months and trying to work things out with Graysen merely got in her way. Elain all but skipped to work, to the kitschy downtown area of her college town that was so obviously a tourist trap. She passed t-shirt shops and placing claiming to make old fashioned fudge, along with haunted museums and one really good western themed restaurant before she reached the Omni.

Peeling white paint and a faded green sign told of better days. Elain pulled out her massive golden key, an absurd relic, and unlocked the Omni. A few tourists might filter into the musty lobby, but no one bought a ticket. Not when they cost $15 each to see a movie no one was interested in.

Elain flipped on the lights and turned on the popcorn machine, though she didn’t start any. She’d have to clean it if she did. Instead, she vacuumed the maroon and blue carpet and sprayed febreeze over everything, trying so hard to get the smell of smoke out of the walls. People had been allowed to smoke in the theater up until the eighties and she swore it lingered like a ghost.

After that, Elain picked a black and white film—a french feature with subtitles—and made her way into the singular theater. The only, fold down chairs had been replaced with squashy chairs and leather loveseats. Someone had donated them, hoping it would bring more people in. All it did was convince teenagers to waste $30 to finger each other, a fact that endlessly annoyed Elain.

She dragged a ivory knit blanket into the dark theater, draped it over her body, and stared at her phone until she was half asleep. She might have fallen all the way asleep had a body not jumped the back of the two person love-seat she was reclined on, sitting their heavy body on her legs.

She yelped and Lucien apologized, scrambling up as she pulled her legs back. Lucien grabbed them, draping them over his lap before pulling her blanket over him, too.

“Sorry it took me so long,” he said, eyes watching the screen with confusion. He looked incredible—his auburn hair was loose around his chiseled face, his body clad in a baby blue sweater and a pair of jeans. He’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, the corded muscle flexing when he moved and the sweater clung to his muscular torso. Lucien looked over, russet eyes reflecting in the screen light. She wanted to trace the trio of long scars screaming down his eye with her tongue, though she’d never admit that. Full lips quirked upwards into a smile.

“Lucien, it’s eleven thirty,” she replied. “I’m here until eight.”

He shrugged, unaware his casual indifference only made her think he wanted her, too. He ran his hand over her shin, clad in leggings and hidden under the blanket.

“Do you really want to work out with me?” he asked her, dashing all her hopes in a moment. Elain’s lips parted. Surely Lucien couldn’t be that stupid? He spent hours in the gym and Elain was breathless after a thirty minute jog. He looked so hopeful that Elain was forced to respond.

“Yeah,” she lied. “You look great—”

“You do too,” he said, shifting in his seat just a little. Elain swallowed hard. What had Arina said? To just climb in his lap and kiss him? Elain wanted Lucien to make the first move so badly, was terrified he would reject her if she did that. 

And then what? They wouldn’t even be friends. Lucien had been her best friend for almost six years. What would she do if she couldn’t text him every little thing that crossed her mind? It was what kept her in her seat even though every other part of her ached to get closer. 

They watched the movie in relative silence and when it finished, Lucien let Elain get up to change it. They had a favorite, if only because of how long it was. Four hours. It was a western movie about a train—at least, she thought, anyway. Her and Lucien usually ended up in an animated conversation thirty minutes in. It passed the time, all the same, and she wasn’t ready to give him up just yet. She knew he had an afternoon class at one which would send him away and leave her alone and annoyed she couldn’t just make a move.

Lucien winced when she plopped on the couch.

“Sore?” she asked. He always was after a game.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I soaked in ice this morning and I had ibuprofen for breakfast. It’s helping a little.”

“Want me to rub?” she offered. That was hardly unusual and yet the way his eyes widened made her feel like she’d crossed some sort of line. 

“You don’t ah…” he trailed off as she scooted closer. “What are you doing, Elain?”

She was running her hands up his chest. “Rubbing?” she asked, too afraid to look at his face. “Your shoulders, unless you’d rather me do your legs?”

She knew if she knelt before him, she’d unbutton his pants whether he asked her to or not. Swallowing hard, she wondered if maybe that wasn’t just what they needed to do? What could be more obvious than blowing him in the middle of an empty theater. Surely he’d understand then that she wanted more than friendship? 

She ran her hands down his body again, moving to slip towards the floor but Lucien caught her quickly. Fingers curled around her biceps, Lucien looked wild and nervous. “Don’t do that,” he whispered, nostrils flared. “I’m alright, I’m fine. Actually, I should probably uh…I need to get to class. I have a project…it’s…half finished, I think? I’ll see you later?”

Was he leaving her again? Elain’s mouth hung open. “A project?” she asked, well aware she sounded indignant. She’d been about to suck him and he was leaving? Her stomach churned. Maybe it wasn’t Luycien who was stupid, but her. He was trying to be her friend and she was trying to touch him inappropriately 

“Yeah,” he breathed, chest rising and falling rapidly, “I just remembered. I uh…later? We’ll see each other later?”

Did it even matter? She scooted away from him, swallowing her disappointment. 

“Yeah. There’s the party at the house tonight, if you want to still come?” she hoped he didn’t. It would be endless girls throwing themselves at his feet, all with a better shot at him than her.

Lucien nodded, dragging a hand through his hair.

“I’ll be there.”

And then he was gone, jumping over the back of the couch and practically running out of the theater. Elain checked her phone. 

Twelve.

He hadn’t even been there an hour. 

Maybe she ought to give up.

LUCIEN: 

Lucien was losing his mind. The sight of Elain about to drop to her knees between his parted thighs was too much. His cock filled with blood, pushing against his pants thinking she was going to unzip him and take him in her mouth. He didn’t want her to realize he had an erection, so Lucien fled even after he saw the bewildered hurt on her face. Elain was trying to be nice, to be his friend. He felt like a bastard. 

He jerked himself off in the bathroom of his apartment before miserably plodding to class. He sent her a meme, hoping it was a sufficient apology without making things awkward or weird between them and Elain sent one back. All was forgiven. He doubted she understood why he had to go. It was the second time that day he'd had to take himself in his hand. The first was after she'd sent the half naked photo, asking if he thought she should work out. He'd nearly dropped a weight on his foot, had practically run out of the gym to pump himself in his hand before he did something reckless. 

As long as he wasn’t fucking up their friendship. Fuck, she was technically still dating Graysen. She’d need time and space to grieve before he could even think about letting her get her hands and face that close to his cock. Lucien was jumpy and overly worked up and by the time he got to her sorority house for the party, it was like he hadn’t masterbated at all. He was eight seconds from turning around and leaving when the door swung open and Arina ushered him in.

“There you are,” she said with a smile, all but shoving him into the foyer. “I need your help.”

“Oh?”

“Elain is single—”

Ohgodohgodohgodohgod—Lucien tried to turn around and walk right back out the door but Arina was gripping his arm and walking him through the beautifully decorated living room which was packed with people. She was still talking but Lucien wasn’t listening. Not when he’d caught sight of Elain, dressed in a tight pink dress, her back up against the wall while some fratboy hovered over her with hungry eyes. 

“If you could just keep her occupied—” Oh God was Arina still talking? He looked down at hte blonde.

“What?”

Arina rolled her eyes. “Babysit Elain, please? She’s like blood in the water for these fucking sharks. Why don’t you take her upstairs?” Arina added, wrinkling her nose when the guy said something indistinguishable over the loud music and Elain threw her head back and laughed. Surely he wasn’t that funny. Lucien all but stomped across the room, weaving in and out of people until he reached her. The guy looked over, clearly irked but Lucien wasn’t some fratboy loser. He was a fucking athlete, and a good one at that.

Elain turned her head, eyes assessing him cooly. “Oh. Hey.”

Fuck. That wasn’t the reaction he’d been going for.

“Come have a drink with me,” he said, ignoring the other guy entirely. She looked back to the guy, offering an apology and a promise to be right back. Both Lucien and the loser knew he’d never see her again. Elain pushed off the wall with her back letting him grab her hand.

“Broke up with Graysen, huh?” he asked, walking her towards the massive, polished steps that would take her up to the bedroom she shared with Arina. It was true, though. The ugly little ring that had once been on her finger was now gone. 

“And?” 

He looked down at her, surprised by how angry she sounded. Squeezing her hand, Lucien took the first step upwards. She was suffering and all he could think about were her tits spilling over the top of her dress and how it just barely covered her cute little ass. 

“I’m sorry, Elain,” he murmured as she followed up behind him, heels clicking loudly.

“I’m not,” she insisted, her tone still bratty and sullen. Lucien scowled, pushing open the door that had her name written on it in glittery purple script.

“Then why are you taking it out on me?” he demanded, snapping the door shut behind her. “If you’re so fine? I’m trying to be your friend–”

She crossed her arms over her chest, dragging the hem of the strapless dress down far enough that he could see she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath. His already sore legs shook, nearly giving out. “Maybe I don’t want you to be my friend.”

The air punched out of his lungs. “What?” Anxiety rose in his stomach at her words. She didn’t want to be friends? What did he have, if not her friendship? Lucien blinked, swallowing the urge to beg her to know why. 

She didn’t budge. “I don’t want to be your friend, Lucien.”

Her eyes blazed as she said it. Lucien couldn’t handle it, couldn’t stand to see her anger, to hear her declare she no longer wanted to be his friend. He turned, flinging open the door before she uttered another word, and all but ran out of that house.

“Lucien—” she called from behind him, but he didn’t need to hear it. Not when his heart was cracking, when he thought he might throw up on the floor if she uttered another word. Thundering down the stairs, he nearly bowled into Arina.

“Lucien?” she asked, looking up to where Elain was following, much slower in her heels.

“Lucien!” Elain called but he’d reached the front door, yanked it open, and slammed it behind him. Only then did he let himself suck down a cool breath of autumn air. He didn’t want to be caught on her lawn, didn’t want to have this confrontation out in the open for the whole school to see. Lucien ached, and not from soccer. In his wildest dreams, he’d never once considered that Elain might break up with him, too. 

Was it because he’d left her in the theater? He’d hurt her feelings and she was tired of it? He almost wanted to ask, almost turned around and demanded she explain herself. Swallowing against the lump in his throat, Lucien did the only thing that would silence his thoughts.

He took off running.

His body responded instantly, switching from the pain that was flooding his brain to something duller and single-minded. It didn’t wholly remove the hurt in his chest but for the two miles he raced, it kept him thinking about anything but his pumping legs and keeping his lungs filled with air. 

I don’t want to be your friend, Lucien.

Tears stung against his eyes, banished by sheer will alone. He shoved himself into his apartment, pacing like a caged animal. She didn’t want to be his friend. Didn’t want to be his friend. Lucien pulled off his shirt, throwing it across the room before walking to his bedroom.

“Fuck this,” he shouted, dragging off his jeans, too. He was going to the gym. He’d spend the night there, burn off his feelings, and figure out what to do in the morning.

Lucien had just gotten his shorts over his body, shoes back in hand when a loud pounding on the door dragged him out. He knew who would be waiting on the other end without having to ask. Keyed up and hurt, he flung that door open, not caring he still wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“I don’t take house calls so late from people who aren’t my friend,” he snapped at Elain. Her eyes were glassy, her face streaked with mascara. 

“Oh fuck you, Lucien,” she snapped, shoving him in the chest as she walked into his apartment. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“I’m stupid?” he demanded as she slammed his door shut. “Me?”

“Yeah!” she said, squaring off with him. It was almost laughable given Elain was five feet tall without her heels, over a foot shorter than him and still, with her hateful gaze, he felt like dirt beneath her feet. “You’re fucking stupid!”

“Great. Glad you came all this way to tell me that. Anything else you need to get off your chest?” he asked, swallowing his hurt back into his gut. She was here and for whatever reason, her mere presence was half soothing. He was vibrating with anxiety, wanting to get on his knees and beg her not to leave him. To tell him what he’d done wrong.

He didn’t want to open himself up to any more pain. Lucien turned his back to her, striding into the living room so he could put on his socks and shoes. 

“Do you really not know?” she asked from behind him, stopping him in his tracks. Her anger had slid into fear, her voice wavering. When he turned, he found Elain standing in the hall, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Know what, Elain?” he asked her desperately. Dropping his shoes, Lucien closed the distance between them and pulled her against his body, wishing so badly he’d put on a shirt. She immediately hugged him, hands rubbing up and down his spine. “Tell me what I’m missing. Let me fix this.”

“You can’t,” she said, her breath hot against his skin. “This is my fault.”

“I’m sure it’s not,” he was quick to reply, letting himself tangle his hand in her long, carefully curled hair. “Please, Elain, you know I love you. I’d do anything for you. Tell me why you’re upset.”

She was quiet for a long minute, eyes closed while he stroked her hair. His anxiety was ebbing, his heart steadying. He could fix this. She’d tell him, and Lucien would apologize and they’d sit on the couch and watch a move. 

“Is it Graysen?” Lucien dared to ask. 

She laughed, breath fanning against him. His heart picked up again, anxious for an entirely different reason when she pressed a soft kiss just beneath his pec.

“It’s you,” she said, so quiet he barely heard her. 

“Elain,” Lucien said slowly, piecing together what she’d said earlier.

I don’t want to be your friend.

“You do know I love you, right?” he asked her softly, waiting for her to look up at him. She shook her head back and forth and fuck him he was so stupid. Reaching for her face and cupping it in his hand, Lucien added, “I am in love with you.”

Her breath caught. “But today—”

“I will take whatever you give me,” he admitted. “And if that’s just friendship, I want it. You just ended thing—”

“Because I love you,” she whispered, so softly he thought he was hallucinating. “It took me too long to realize and I just figured…”

He might have laughed, had he not suddenly been so ravenous. Lucien didn’t care what she’d figured or when she’d discovered. As long as they were on the same page right then, it didn’t matter. 

Lucien tilted her head towards him, kissing her like he’d always wanted to. His whole body, still achey and confused, lit up like a firework at the soft touch. Her hands slid back up his chest like she’d done at the movie theater, tangling around his neck and Lucien was gone. He wanted way more than one polite kiss.

Lucien reached beneath her, hands gripping her ass to haul her upwards so there was no height difference between them. Elain half jumped, legs wrapped around his waist, and deepened the kiss before he ever got the chance. Her tongue swept into his mouth, licking against his own. Lucien groaned, nearly stumbling and taking them both to the ground.

Bedroom, get to the bedroom you dumb fuck—

How he ever managed it with his hard cock and his stupid legs, Lucien would never know. One minute he had her in the hall, hands kneading her ass and the next he was dropping her to the bed just long enough to climb up her body and kiss her senseless.

“Lucien,” Elain breathed, arching into his body just like he’d always imagined. This was happening—she was kissing him, was dragging her nails up and down his back. Lucien could not keep his thoughts straight, was practically floating. The only thing grounding him was Elain beneath him, needy and pretty and pliant. 

“I hate this dress,” he told her, pulling at the top.

“I put it on for you,” she admitted. “I wanted you to take it off.”

“All you have to do is ask,” he groaned, fumbling for the zipper at her back. Elain arched, the sight so erotic that his whole body stopped working for a moment.

“Focus, Lucien,” she whispered when she realized why he’d stopped trying to get her out of her clothes. He shook his head, trying to rattle his brain around long enough to please his girl. 

He shimmied her out of the dress, tossing it to the floor without a second glance. All at once, Elain was naked, save for the same black, lacy underwear she’d been in when she’d sent that picture.

“You ruined my whole fucking life this morning,” he told her, nipping her collarbone with his teeth. “I was trying to lift weights when you sent that little picture.”

“Yeah?” she breathed, moaning when one of his hands cupped her entire breast. “I was trying to turn you on.”

“It worked,” he growled, pinching her nipple softly between his fingers. Just enough to elicit a gasp of pleasure. “I’ve been jerking myself off all fucking day, Elain.”

She whined. “I tried to suck your dick in the theater but you took off—”

“You what?!” he demanded, raising his head from between her tits to look back up at her. “You were doing what?”

“Yeah,” she panted, eyes fluttering back open. “What did you think I was trying to do on my knees?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Lucien breathed, pressing his forehead against her chest. “I didn’t want you to see how erect I was.”

“I wanted to see it,” she informed him.

“Next time,” he promised, licking the hardened peak of her pretty nipple. That silenced her and gave Lucien a moment to let himself indulge in a fantasy in which he found out the girl of his dreams was into him by unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock.

He’d had a million daydreams just like that. 

This was way better, he decided. She was in his bed and we was between her legs. All Lucien had to do was make this the best night of her life and he’d be calling her Elain Vanserra before they ever graduated. 

“Have you been thinking about me?” he asked, licking down her stomach towards her pussy. Lucien desperately wanted to taste her.

“Yes,” she admitted. 

“Fantasizing?” he pressed, needing to boost his own fragile ego.

“Yes.”

“Do I get to eat you out in those little daydreams?” he asked, pushing her legs wider, until the lips of her cunt were visible through the thin fabric of her underwear. “Because I think about that all the time.”

Lucien hooked his finger over the thin strip hugging her hips and pulled them off her body. They joined her dress on the floor, useless to him in the moment. He was losing his mind at the sight of her bare pussy, spread open and glistening. Awed, Lucien dragged a finger through the wet, letting him use the slickness of her body to lubricate his touch as he swirled over her clit.

Elain’s hips jerked. 

“No one is taking good care of my girl, are they?” he murmured. “Let me fix that, baby.”

“Please,” she whispered, threading her finger through his hair. 

In his own daydreams, he’d always imagined taking his time with her. That he’d be soft and sweet and loving. Certainly, as he licked the length of her, Lucien was passionate. The problem was his passion was edged with wild need he just barely had control of. Lucien was practically fucking the sheets as he began devouring her, licking at her like his life depended on it.

In a way it did. He wanted her to be his wife, and women didn’t marry the guy who was bad or lazy when it came to eating pussy. Elain rolled her hips against his face, thighs shaking against his cheeks. He didn’t have to ask if Graysen had done this or done it well–the very fact that she was so close to coming after he’d barely been down longer than five minutes was answer enough. He could build her out, could tease and torture her another night.

Elain came loud enough his neighbors almost certainly heard. Good. He wanted them to hear, wanted the whole goddamn world to know that Elain was his. He’d fuck her on the balcony, too, so everyone could watch jealously. 

He was back on her the moment he body went limp, yanking off his shorts and trying to kiss her all at once. For someone who boasted being both athletic and coordinated, Lucien was a fumbling disaster trying to free himself. The problem was gorgeous Elain raking her nails down his back and wrapping her legs back around his waist, trying to push him into her before he’d freed himself of his shorts prison. 

“Lucien,” she whined. “Lucien—”

“Greedy,” he panted, kicking them onto the floor. “And needy. How bad do you need to be fucked, Elain?”

She looked up at him with lust fogged eyes. “So bad.”

God he was going to die. Lucien dragged the head of his cock through her sopping wet pussy. “Look at my cock,” he ordered, wanting her to see what he was about to put in her. Elain was already staring at the appendage pressed between her legs.

“Do you want an award, Lucien?” she whispered.

“Are you the prize?” he couldn’t help but ask. Elain dug her heels into his ass and pushed, slamming half his cock into her body before he could catch his breath. He groaned loudly, fisting the sheets and pressing his face into the crook of her neck. She was so wet, so tight and hot. He was certain he’d died in that moment and this was some form of heaven because nothing had ever felt so good in his life.

He dragged himself out and pushed all of his cock back in, slower this time to keep himself from hurting her. Elain rolled into him, meeting him thrust for thrust. He could still feel her heart pounding through the walls of her cunt, her orgasm still pulsating against him. She was a slick second skin and Lucien was gone, utterly wrecked. 

“Fuck, Elain,” he whispered, sucking at her neck. “Your fucking pussy…” he didn’t know where he was going with that.

She merely nodded, dragging his face for a kiss. “I’m so close,” she said into his mouth. 

He could help her with that. Angling his hips so he could reach between them, Lucien stroked her clit like he’d done with his tongue until she came apart again, teeth biting his shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise. 

Lucien was just behind, pumping his release into her with an absurdly loud groan of pleasure. His hips were jerky, moving of their own accord until he’d come down, too. Even still, Lucien didn’t withdraw, his skin buzzing with arousal.

“Elain,” he breathed. 

“Tell me you love me,” she asked, stroking his face with her fingers.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing each cheek gently. 

Elain sighed, holding him closely. “I love you, Lucien. So damn much.”

ELAIN:

Two years later

Elain was learning to love soccer. She had to, given her brand new husband played professionally for the MLS, dragging the two of them all over the country and if she wanted to see him, some nights she had to drag herself down to the stadium and watch him play. Elain had made friends with the other players wives, sitting in a group and admiring their husbands while pretending what they cared about was the ethics of the game. It was with no small amount of pride that Elain thought her husband was the most handsome of the group.

He was easily the most talented. Elain knew that for a fact, given Lucien was about to move out of MLS entirely over to an english Premier League. He hadn’t told her which one yet, well aware she’d immediately tell Arina, who would tell someone, who would tell someone and ruin the whole thing.

Still, Elain was excited for them both. It was a new beginning and something fun. Lucien wanted to get out of American soccer pretty bad and had played the hell out of his season. He’d earned this. He’d leave at the top of his game and she’d just leave. 

They were in their home city tonight, which meant when Lucien finished, they’d get to go home together instead of to a nice hotel. Time was ticking towards the end and Elain was antsy, trailing Lucien over the field. He had the ball, was dragging it towards the net for an egregious and undeniable win. Elain jumped out of her chair when he succeeded, so absurdly proud of him she might have exploded.

“That’s my husband!” she told the couple beside her for the fourth time that night. She was certain they were tired of her. Elain didn’t care, not when time was up and Lucien was free. He grinned, ear to ear, as she made her way towards him. It was just like every game since they’d started dating—he surged towards the rails, lifting himself up so he could kiss her.

“You were amazing,” she told him. 

High off his win, Lucien looked dumbstruck. “You taste like nachos. Give me thirty and we’ll get out of here?”

She laughed. “Go on, then.”

They met up exactly thirty minutes later. He was half limping, his skin bruised and black and grinning as she met up with him. “I am going to do everything to you tonight,” he warned, grabbing her around the waist and yanking her close. He had his wedding ring on—Lucien only took it off to play, sliding it back on the moment he finished so the whole world knew he was undeniably married. Elain never complained, was always delighted to see the gold band wrapped around his finger.

Lucien had waited a total of nine months before he’d all but begged her to marry him, and had made good on his promise the week after they accepted their diplomas. Elain was his stay at home wife, a pretty good set up in her estimation. She got to travel with him, got to manage their life, and just personally, Elain didn’t want a job. She wanted to be his pretty, cherished wife. 

Elain drove them home while Lucien stretched out his legs, wincing as the adrenaline began to wear off. Every game, Lucien swore he was going to make love to her until the sun came up and every game, Lucien sat in frigid water while eating ibuprofen like it was his job. Tonight would be no different. He stepped inside their little two story with a groan, kicking off his shoes. Elain made her way to the bedroom for his knee brace. She helped him get into the tub in the bathroom attached to the bedroom, taking the moment to ogle his truly lovely body. Lucien was bruised and battered and yet his golden brown skin was still so lovely, his form so chiseled, that she couldn’t stop herself from running her fingers down his broad shoulders.

“If you want, you can sit on my face tonight,” he offered, stretching out his sore legs.

“Is that what you want, Lucien?” she teased. Eyes closed, a sultry smile spread over his face. “Yes. And maybe afterwards you’ll touch my cock?”

“I could probably do more than touch, if you ask really nicely,” she teased.

“Cruel wife,” Lucien replied, reaching for her hand to kiss the back of her skin. “You swore in your vows that you’d take care of me in sickness and health.”

“I didn’t swear to suck your dick, Lucien.”

“Are you sure? Because I seem to recall you swore that very thing in the bathroom thirty minutes before you walked down that aisle.”

“Oh, shut up,” Elain replied, thinking very fondly of how she’d snuck out of her dressing room, met him in the one stall bathroom at their wedding venue, gotten on her knees, and sucked his cock until it was stained red with her lipstick. They’d had a giggly time at the altar afterwards, pretending it was the first time they were seeing each other in their wedding garb. 

“I will never shut up about it,” Lucien replied, turning his head to look at her. “Best day of my goddamn life.”

“The blow job?”

“And fucking you in the back of that limo…and when I put my hand under your dress at—”

“Are all your best memories of us having sex on our wedding day?” she demanded. Lucien shifted in the water, his body on full display. She was so fucking hot it made her whole body tight. 

“No. The best day of my life was when you said I do. No take backs, Elain.”

As if she wanted to. The best day of Elain’s life had been when Lucien had told her he loved her and put her out of her misery. Not that he needed to know that. He was so incandescently happy that it was easy to forget how things began between them. All the waiting and pining and misunderstandings merely felt funny. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, now that I know you’re going to let me eat your pussy. I haven't had a good meal in weeks.”

“You ate it this morning, Lucien.”

He was such a rogue. Grinning, he agreed, “So I did. Silly me.”

He was always going down on her. Sometimes she wondered if he was worried that she might change her mind or think she’d made some terrible mistake. She’d catch him watching her from across the room, eyes intent, his expression awed. Like he couldn’t believe his good luck. Elain felt the exact same way.

“Come on,” she murmured when his lips took on a bluish tinge. She pulled him out and all but dragged him to the bed where Lucien did, indeed, yank her onto his face while she gripped the headboard for dear life. And afterwards, Elain did exactly as she promised, sucking his cock while he writhed and panted and begged. It was always so thrilling to have him in her thrall, to watch him come apart with nothing more than her mouth and tongue and hand. 

He was exhausted by the time they finished, hand on his flat stomach as he gulped down air. “You’re too good at that. It’s why I can never leave you,” he said, letting her nestle against him.

“Yes, I’m sure that’s why you’re sticking around.”

Lucien’s sleepy smile warmed her. “I stick around because I love you. The way you suck dick is merely a very welcome bonus.”

She peppered his shoulder with kisses. “Go to sleep.”

“I’m trying. You’re so pretty and I can’t stop staring.”

“Do your best,” Elain murmured, snuggling deeper beneath the blankets. 

“You’re my best,” he whispered.

“Best what?” she asked.

“Everything,” he replied. “If I’m doing my best, it’s only because I have you. You’re my best.”

Elain smiled.

“You’re my best, too, Lucien.”