#australian open 2019

[st4rg1rl-16]

━━ ✶✶˖° 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗪𝗢 | 𝗡𝟰𝗦.

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴(𝘀) ━ 2019 to 2023!f1 grid x driver!female oc

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ━ carlos and lando give arabella love advice while after talking to toto, lewis start to feel threatened by the female rookie also charles confess his feelings

𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 ━ 2019, 29 march

𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ━ manama, bahrein

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ━ i think only cursing…for now 😜

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 ━ here it is the second chapter! hope it helps to get your minds away from everything is happening because I definitely have a headache

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ━ @namgification @burberryfilms @d3kstar @omgsuperstarg @whoselly

• — need for speed’s masterlist

DESPITE being a couple of meters outside the garage, the red of her t-shirt two sizes too big stood out among the papaya-colored polo shirts of the McLaren staff. She pursed her lips and stood on her tiptoes trying to find the mop of black hair that belonged to her compatriot who, according to Ricciardo, was there.

She was beginning to suspect that the Australian had lied to her.

The truth was that she didn't know if it was a very good idea to go talk about her problem with Charles, with Carlos, but he was the only one she could talk to about everything. For some reason the girl had unconsciously taken the other spaniard as her confidant, closest friend and a bit like an older brother, perhaps because they had a country and culture in common or simply because they connected but Arabella liked being with Carlos and, well , Carlos liked being with Arabella. He saw her as another little sister to take care of and annoy, and he liked that because it made him feel closer to his home, to his family.

“What are we looking at?” A voice next to her made her jump in her place. She turned her body around and narrowed her eyes in annoyance at the owner of said voice.

"Carlos!" She growled his name and he opened those eyes of his wide indicating that he was listening to her "Where were you? I was looking for you".

He shrugged. “In the bathroom, I needed to take a shit”.

"Ah" Her nose wrinkled in displeasure before making a dismissive gesture "Do you want to go eat with me?".

"Okay, but why don't you go with Charles?" They both began walking towards the public cafeteria, he slid his arm around her shoulders and pressed her against his body "Shouldn't you eat together? You know, since you guys are teammates.

"He's busy" The lie came easily from her lips and Carlos seemed to believe it or at least that's what she thought when she saw him nod "Shouldn't you be eating with Lando?"

"Touché".

They walked a couple more minutes since the cafeteria was not far away, when they arrived they ordered and then took a seat.

"Carlos, you have a girlfriend, right?" She was going to wait until she found the best way to introduce the topic but she preferred to get straight to the point.

Which almost led to the older man choking on his orange juice "I mean, you're very pretty but you're a little too young for me and I don't see you like that, Bells".

"Ew, no!" She exclaimed with disgust, leaning back in her seat "That's not what i mean, gilipollas!". Asshole.

"Well, then why are you asking?!" Both raised their voices and since they also spoke in Spanish, they caught the attention of several people. The brown-eyed man cleared his throat "What's the point of that question then?".

She made a noise of displeasure biting her lower lip, she leaned forward indicating to her friend to do the same, he followed her curiously.

"I like a boy or at least I think I like him" She muttered reluctantly. She didn't really like talking about feelings, especially her own.

Sainz smiled broadly, punching her arm "Look at you! I knew that with that face you couldn't be very innocent".

Immediately her cheeks turned as red as her shirt. She stretched out her arm and pinched him, earning a complaint from him while she scolded him "Shut up, damn it, and help me."

"Let's see, tell Tito Carlos who the lucky one is".

"In your dreams".

"Oh, come on, tía". Dude.

"What are you guys talking about?" A third voice spoke in english making both of them turn their heads to see the 55`s teammate looking at them with a big smile on his face and his eyes full of curiosity "Can I join?".

The girl pointed at him with her finger "But you're already sitting down and everything."

"It was to be polite, nothing more" He grabbed the armrests of the chair and began to jump on it to bring it closer to the table.

The spanish drivers looked at each other.

When he was finally happy with the distance between his body and the table he rested his elbows on the armrests and joined his hands, looking at both of them "So, what were we talking about?".

"Well, Bel…

"Don't even think about it," She growled in spanish towards the oldest at the table.

Norris pouted “Please, I want to know too or I'll feel left out.”

"You don't know how to keep secrets, Lando. Not even if your life depends on it" The girl drank her coffee and looked at the british boy who made a noise of dissatisfaction.

"That is not true! I haven't told anyone that we were each other's first kiss, did I?" He spoke proudly of himself, without realizing his mistake.

"For fuck's sake, Lando," She murmured, looking away from both of them.

"Wait, what?!" Carlos looked at both of them in disbelief, turned to the boy and extended his hand with a smile "That's my boy!

The blue-eyed man smiled and bumped his palm against the black-haired man's before he brought him closer to his chest, giving a "men's" greeting. The girl rolled her eyes but laughed when he turned to her and said "You could do better."

"Hey!" Lando's smile faded instantly.

"Back to the topic, I need help. The situation is…complicated, I can't give many details, but I don't know what to say or what to do"

She began to play with the napkins unconsciously to which Carlos smiled slightly, he thought it was cute that she was nervous.

Ah, first love.

"Do you think he likes you?".

She frowned. “Who doesn't like me?”.

Lando snorted earning a glare from the girl.

"Do you want me to remind you that you stuck your tongue down my throat".

"It was many years ago" He made a gesture dismissing her words.

She surreptitiously gave him the finger but he had to ignore it because the waitress arrived with a glass of milk. As soon as they thanked the woman and she was gone, they resumed the conversation.

"I guess he liked me because he kissed me".

Norris grabbed his teammate's arm and started making strange noises while he jumped in his chair.

"It's like a soap opera, how exciting" He approached her and resting her cheek on the palm of her hand, he looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

"Okay...?" She looked at him strangely and then turned her gaze to the man in front of her "We kissed several times".

"So, what's the problem?" Carlos looked at her with a frown.

She opened her hands in front of her in frustration “I don't know what to do! I don't have any experience with boys, except for this idiot" She pointed to the boy next to her.

"I think you should talk to him, discuss your feelings and if things are complicated as you say you both should talk if you want to move on or ignore your feelings".

She looked at him silently, weighing his advice. Carlos was right, she had to talk to Charles and clear this up or it could be detrimental to her career, after everything she had fought to get to where she was now.

"What good advice" Lando nodded, pointing to his teammate.

Arabella could only glare at him.

“I THINK I have never seen someone like her” Toto Wolff crossed his arms, observing the track where Arabella and some members of the Ferrari team were. The female driver was going to make a video for YouTube in which she had to drive a few meters and be timed to test the team's latest car model.

Hamilton approached him and tilted his head "What do you mean?".

“I don't know, it's different. She has a lot of passion inside her” The car began to roar and above it the girl's excited scream was heard. He took his phone out of his pants pocket and motioned to his driver to come closer “I've investigated her, she almost died at age thirteen."

Lewis took the phone in his hands and watched the video. It was a Formula 3 race, he soon found the red car with the number nine and smiled: she was leading the race, although he soon frowned when he saw that the car began to lose its balance. He let out a groan as he saw little Arabella's car flying through the air and soon hitting the ground.

“She almost had to learn to walk again and you know what? As soon as she was discharged from the hospital, she got back into a car” He took back his phone and put it away again, looking towards the girl who was pressing the accelerator impatiently for the starting signal to be given.

“She's not afraid” The seven-time champion followed the direction in which his boss was looking.

A smile was planted on the tall man's lips. "Exactly and that's why we need her. I want her in Mercedes”.

That caught the younger man's attention, who quickly turned his head towards the older one. He frowned.

“Even if you offered her twenty million euros more, she wouldn't accept, she just signed with Ferrari. She can’t.”

“But the contracts can be ended, my dear Lewis” He patted him on the back”I need someone so when you retire they can continue your legacy, don't you want that? Someone to pass on your greatness to.”

The Briton remained silent, turning his gaze towards the Ferrari girl who was now doing donuts. Her laughter could be heard from where both men were.

Then Lewis felt jealous. He was jealous because she was young and she had a whole career ahead of her, she enjoyed cars like no one else, surely her skin crawled when she sat in a car and heard it roar. He didn't feel that anymore or at least not like he used to when he started. His heart clenched and he felt like throwing up. What if what she said in Drive to Survive came true? What if she really beat him? Then Toto would put her in Mercedes and he would become an old legend, overthrown by a little girl.

His jaw clenched. “She's only run one race, you still don't know if she is any good.”

"She had won all her life, Lewis." The tall man shrugged, making his white shirt wrinkle. He let out a small laugh. “I'm sure you'll have a tough time this season.”

The braids on his head danced as she turned his head toward him. He scanned him with his gaze before huffing, turning around and heading to his room. Toto followed him with his gaze, pursing his lips, knowing that the champion hadn’t liked that. He let out a sigh.

“Arabella, para!” A man, blond and tall, approached the car that was spinning in a perfect circle. Smoke surrounded the car and the screeching of the tires wearing out against the ground sounded throughout the track. He approached the car making the girl stop, she did it abruptly but still the car was perfectly aligned with the man's body, the front was a few meters from him so both could see each other's eyes through of the front window. The car began to roar louder and louder as the man pointed to the ground. “Get out of the car, miss.” Stop.

A few seconds later the car turned off and the girl's long, wavy brown hair emerged from the left side, and she was grumbling in a low voice.

From the way the blonde was scolding her, the CEO assumed that he was someone who had authority over her, the iPad and the phone in his hand told him that probably he was her manager, maybe her father or her uncle.

He grimaced, stretching his lips before beginning to walk towards them.

"What have we said about reckless things?" He heard the blonde scold her and wanted to laugh at her when he saw her head down.

“I race for Formula One, what's more reckless than that?” She murmured to which the man opened his mouth but was interrupted by the arrival of the Mercedes head. Arabella frowned when she saw that the scolding did not come, she raised her head to see that her manager wasn’t even looking at her, she turned her head and even she was surprised “Toto Wolff.”

The former driver smiled charmingly, extending his hand toward her “Arabella Torres, the new sensation of Formula One. It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm a fan.”

“Oh, I- thank you very much, I'm a fan of yours too” She accepted her hand firmly. Toto noticed how her face changed to a more serious, more professional one.

“I wanted to say congratulations to you for your position in the classification, eighth place is pretty good for being your first race in Formula One” The charming smile once again made its way between his lips and she wanted to frown. Call her distrustful but she didn't believe he was there, talking to her, just to congratulate her.

Instead she smiled politely and nodded, "Thank you, it means a lot. It would have been better to get the first position, but that will be tomorrow”.

He laughed while she felt her manager poking his index finger into her back. “I like your enthusiasm, it's what we need at Mercedes.”

And there it fucking was.

The girl raised an eyebrow. "What are you implying?".

“I would like to offer you a seat in Mercedes for when your contract with Ferrari ends” The proposal hit her like a bucket of cold water. She didn't believe it, it had to be a joke.

“Uh, yeah, Hello? Nicholas Jansen, her manager” With a slight push the blonde pushed her out of the way, he looked at the Mercedes team principal with a somewhat sarcastic smile “My client still can't talk about other proposals until her contract ends, I'm sorry.”

"Nicholas..." She tugged at his shirt, murmuring his name as a reprimand, the blonde ignored her.

Wolff nodded “I understand” He looked down from her to the girl “But she should think about it, two years go by very quick and Mercedes is not the only one who is interested in her.”

And with that he walked away from both of them, leaving them both speechless.

“What...?” The green-eyed girl watched as the former pilot's figure diminished as she walked away from her. She looked at her manager, furrowing her eyebrows. “Did he just say that there are more teams interested?”

“Yes, but what does it matter? Ferrari is what you've wanted since you were a kid” The suit wearing man looked at her curiously. He took two steps back when she didn't answer. "You're not thinking about changing colors, are you?".

She swallowed, looking away from Wolff and denied, "No, but it's good to know there are more options."

​WHEN Charles met Arabella he believed that, although it sounded like a stupid and typical cliché, he had died and gone to heaven and that she was the angel who took his hand and guided him to his new home. He felt strange because he had never stopped to look at many girls, yes he had had some silly relationships but his main interest had always been cars, but her? Arabella Torres was like the finest work of art you could ever see in your life and it was hard not to focus on her.

He had seen her race and could confirm that he was impressed: she was fast, very fast and her driving style was risky and dangerous but still light and elegant. He had always been curious about the driver girl but had never managed to see her face or at least close to her to be able to appreciate her well.

And he regretted it.

It was in Maranello, 2016 when he met her, she was going to sign for the Ferrari academy and, by chance or destiny, he was there to train. He remembers that she got inside the place with her father and her manager to her side, a sly smile hung on her lips making her look like the she owned the place unlike the other rookies who looked nervous and intimidated by being there. She, on the other hand, oozed confidence from her pores.

He liked that, although what he liked most was that when they were introduced she smiled at him and whispered about how she was actually very nervous. He liked that she trusted him.

And now, three years later, Charles had not slept for five days because every time he closed his eyes and the silence and darkness of the night enveloped him, he saw her. He saw her deep gaze that hypnotized him, her full lips that screamed for him to bite them, her skin that needed his touch. Every time he closed his eyes he remembered the kiss –the kisses– that they shared that night in Australia, he remembered that things had become tense and since then she hadn’t spoken to him and if she did it was for what was necessary.

He let out a sigh opening his eyes, a few seconds later he put both fists on the mattress to get up and sit on the edge of the bed. Resting his elbows on his knees, he hid his face in his hands and let out a big sigh again. He separated his right index finger from his ring finger, leaving a gap large enough to see his phone resting on the nightstand next to the bed.

Pursing his lips and after thinking for a couple of seconds, he rushed for the device. His long, thin fingers typing rapidly on the screen that illuminated his face in the dark.

He waited a couple of minutes for her to answer but there was no response so he got up and went to the large window that was located next to the bed, he rested his left arm on the window frame and watched the streets of Manama until a couple of knocks against the wood of the door sounded, waking him up from his thoughts. He turned away from the window and looked in the direction of the door, fiddling with his bracelets before starting to walk.

When he opened the door his breath caught in his throat, he was nervous. He had seen her in the morning because they had flown together on the team's jet but they hadn't talked much and, now, whatever he had planned to say to her she had packed her bags and run.

The girl in front of him looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow when her gaze landed on his torso. And his shirt? Where was his shirt?.

She swallowed and finally looked up at his face. Rolling her eyes as soon as she saw the mischievous smile on the Monegasque's lips, she stretched out her hand and planted it on his chest right above where his heart was and pushed him and then entered the room. She laughed silently when she saw that his smile had faded.

“Well, what did you want to talk about?” She sat on the discarded bed when he pointed at it. She bent her legs and sat on top of them, making herself comfortable while watching Charles move to a safe distance from her. The question was stupid because she knew very well what he wanted to talk about, it was very clear that they would talk about the kiss –the kisses–.

“I want to talk about what happened in Melbourne” What a surprise, Arabella thought, directing her gaze to the other side of the room. Charles looked at her, trying to read her because making her uncomfortable was what he least wanted. He pressed his lips together, making them disappear in a thin line. "Look, if you feel uncomfortable, we can...”

"No, no, no," She interrupted him, waving both hands. She nodded repeatedly. “Okay, I think we should talk too. I wanted to have told you something before but I didn't know what to say.”

She felt heat rising up her neck and quickly realized that her face had turned red. She was grateful that he hadn't turned on the lights, and it was no wonder since she was sitting next to the boy she had kissed. four in the morning in his bed while he was half naked.

If her father saw her, he would kill her.

Or worse, her grandfather.

“Do you want... to start?”

“How....?”

They both began to laugh as they spoke at the same time, a few seconds later the laughter faded with the silence and turned into smiles as they looked into each other's eyes. Leclerc let out a sigh and rubbed his forehead, still with a smile on his face and without breaking eye contact.

“I liked the kiss—the kisses” At the mention of the word kisses she hid her face in her hands in a shy manner. Charles's smile widened. "Hey, don't hide." He brought her hand to his to uncover her face. Without realizing it, he brought his body closer to hers.

She uncovered the upper half of her face, hiding her mouth on which a smile was painted, and looked at him, asking herself if what she was experiencing was real. She looked at him shyly. "I don't know what to say." She let out a nervous laugh and Charles thought she looked adorable. "This is the first time this has happened to me."

“Happened what: someone kissed you or that they tell you that they liked your kisses?” The eldest was surprised to see her shy and so nervous, it was not something typical for her. His chest swelled with pride knowing that he was the cause of it. He looked at her, raising both eyebrows. “Was I your first kiss?”

She gave a small laugh, shaking her head. “No, I don't mean that.” Oh, his chest deflated quickly. She bit her lower lip, feeling small in front of him "It's just... I haven't had much time for relationships. Boys didn't get close to me and I was too focused on the cars”

“Well, they were idiots” He took her hand and planted a light kiss on her knuckles “And don't worry, we can go slowly. No hurry.”

How ironic.

She smiled, somewhat uncomfortable because she really didn't know what to say "Eh, so what now?"

"Now I guess I tell you that I like you, that I like you since I saw you almost three years ago, but it's only been two months since I realized it and it's something I really regret." He gave her a sad smile and kissed her knuckles again.

“I like you too, Charles. I don’t know for how long, but I know I like you a lot," she responded to the smile.

Before either of them could say anything else Charles closed the distance between them and kissed her.

[girlsdressingrooms]

Iris Barrel Apfel, Decorator and Fashion Stylist

(August 29, 1921 – March 1, 2024) 

Ms. Apfel was one of the most vivacious personalities in the worlds of fashion, textiles, and interior design, she has cultivated a personal style that is both witty and exuberantly idiosyncratic.

Her originality was typically revealed in her mixing of high and low fashions—Dior haute couture with flea market finds, nineteenth-century ecclesiastical vestments with Dolce & Gabbana lizard trousers.

With remarkable panache and discernment, she combines colors, textures, and patterns without regard to period, provenance, and, ultimately, aesthetic conventions. Paradoxically, her richly layered combinations—even at their most extreme and baroque—project a boldly graphic modernity.

Iris Barrel was born on Aug. 29, 1921, in Astoria, Queens, the only child of Samuel Barrel, who owned a glass and mirror business, and his Russian-born wife, Sadye, who owned a fashion boutique.

She studied art history at New York University, then qualified to teach and did so briefly in Wisconsin before fleeing back to New York to work on Women's Wear Daily, and for interior designer Elinor Johnson, decorating apartments for resale and honing her talent for sourcing rare items before opening her own design firm. She was also an assistant to illustrator Robert Goodman.

As a distinguished collector and authority on antique fabrics, Iris Apfel has consulted on numerous restoration projects that include work at the White House that spanned nine presidencies from Harry Truman to Bill Clinton.

Along with her husband, Carl, she founded Old World Weavers, an international textile manufacturing company and ran it until they retired in 1992. The Apfels specialized in the reproduction of fabrics from the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries, and traveled to Europe twice a year in search of textiles they could not source in the United States.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute assembled 82 ensembles and 300 accessories from her personal collection in 2005 in a show about her called “Rara Avis”.

Almost overnight, Ms. Apfel became an international celebrity of pop fashion.

Ms. Apfel was seen in a television commercial for the French car DS 3, became the face of the Australian fashion brand Blue Illusion, and began a collaboration with the start-up WiseWear. A year later, Mattel created a one-of-a-kind Barbie doll in her image. Last year, she appeared in a beauty campaign for makeup with Ciaté London.

Six years after the Met show she started her fashion line "Rara Avis" with the Home Shopping Network.

She was cover girl of Dazed and Confused, among many other publications, window display artist at Bergdorf Goodman, designer and design consultant, then signed to IMG in 2019 as a model at age 97.

Ms. Iris Apfel became a visiting professor at the University of Texas at Austin in its Division of Textiles and Apparel, teaching about imagination, craft and tangible pleasures in a world of images.

 In 2018, she published “Iris Apfel: Accidental Icon,” an autobiographical collection of musings, anecdotes and observations on life and style. 

Ms. Apfel’s apartments in New York and Palm Beach were full of furnishings and tchotchkes that might have come from a Luis Buñuel film: porcelain cats, plush toys, statuary, ornate vases, gilt mirrors, fake fruit, stuffed parrots, paintings by Velázquez and Jean-Baptiste Greuze, a mannequin on an ostrich.

The Museum of Lifestyle & Fashion History in Boynton Beach, Florida, is designing a building that will house a dedicated gallery of Ms. Apfel's clothes, accessories, and furnishings.

Ms. Apfel’s work had a universal quality, It’s was a trend.

Rest in Power !

[fatehbaz]

Hmm. Alarming trend in mass incarceration in Central America.

Also: Very disingenuous wordplay here.

Where do we begin?

-- Very disingenuous for multiple outlets to run with "the West”. Though this initial AP article does specify that this refers to the Western Hemisphere, the choice to run headlines with “West” kinda implies that there are no other island prisons in “The West” (as in the European Union, the United States, Australia, etc.).

-- One of the most infamous incarceration schemes on the planet is Australia’s “Pacific Solution,” a “solution” to refugee migration centered on the imprisonment of asylum seekers on island prisons, including the infamous prisons at Nauru and Manus, both opened initially in 2001, and re-fortified after 2012. (Nauru is extremely isolated, in the South Pacific, 3000 kilometers away from the Australian coast; the Manus detention centre is far away off the northeast coast of Papua.) Since 2012, over 3,125 people have been sent to Nauru while over 4,180 people have been sent to Manus. (The “last refugee held on the Pacific island of Nauru under Australia’s offshore detention policy” was “evacuated” to mainland Australia only on 24 June 2023, not even a month prior to this headline.)

-- Obviously the EU incarcerates refugees on Mediterranean islands, notoriously at Moria on Lesbos, whose international reputation as the home of Sappho has been supplanted by its reputation as a de facto prison for asylum seekers. In October 2015, over 10,000 people landed on Lesbos in just one day. In 2017, the island averaged 2,500 arrivals per month. By 2019, humanitarian investigations showed that over 10,000 people were being held in a facility with a maximum capacity of 3,000. In 2020, fires left over 12,000 refugees on the island without shelter. By December 2021, Doctors Without Borders raised alarm that over 2,200 refugees were living in “dire” conditions on the island. As of early 2023, Lesbos (along with Kos, Leros, Chios, and Samos) is hosting over 4,500 people who are stuck in “reception and identification centers.”

-- And in the Western Hemisphere? The US prison at Guantanomo, also on the coast of an island in this same sea.

-- One of the most notorious island prisons was the early twentieth century French penal colony on the periphery of the Caribbean region at Guiana (run by a France, a “Western” power, in the Western Hemisphere), known internationally as “Devil’s Island.”

-- The federal government says the prison will be built “in harmony with nature.”

-- A prison ... in harmony with nature.

-- An island prison in the Caribbean, a region fundamentally and intimately connected to centuries of imprisonment, plantations, Indigenous genocide, antiBlackness, racial castes, and chattel slavery, all achieved and enforced through the bounded, isolated geographic containment structure allowed by islands.

-- And this is extra-worrying, because it seems it’s a regional trend, evidently for Honduras, El Salvador, and Colombia.

-- Merely a few days before this headline about Honduras, international outlets were profiling Honduras’s direct neighbor, El Salvador, with headlines like “Inside El Salvador’s new ‘mega prison’” (Al Jazeera) and, within the past couple months, headlines like “Prisoners are being tortured to death in El Salvador’s prisons” (VICE News).

-- From less than a week before this AP headline, we have BBC: “El Salvador’s secretive mega-jail.”

-- Don’t forget nearby Tapachula’s detention of asylum seekers.

Still discussing implementation of literal island prisons despite our collective familiarity with carceral archipelagoes.

[blckbarbiedoll]

Million Dollar Baby

Chapter 3-Off My Game

CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT (p in v sex, oral fem receiving, kissing, etc.)

July 29, 2019-New Rochelle, New York

"Fix your face." You told your fiancé. "You did good today."

"I almost lost."

"But you didn't. That's all that matters." You kissed his cheek and finished your drink. "You need a shower."

"Wanna join me?"

"You have fun. I'm gonna stay down here and answer some emails."

"Okay. Don't work too hard."

He walked to the elevator and gave you a smirk as the doors closed in front of him. You opened your laptop and scrolled through the countless emails you had gotten in the past few hours.

"A cosmopolitan for you, ma'am." The waiter placed the drink down on the table next to you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't order this."

"It was a gift from that woman over there."

You looked over at her as she smirked and raised her glass. You shook your head and scoffed. You raised your glass back and took a sip. She got up and walked across the empty lobby until she got to you.

"Hi."

"Hi, Tashi."

"Patrick was good today."

"I know he was."

"He buy you that ring?"

"My mom's."

"I'm happy for you."

"No you're not."

"Wow." She chuckled and threw back the rest of her drink.

You followed suit and finished yours. You grabbed your stuff and stood up.

"Thanks for the drink."

"Hey."

"What?"

"Make sure Patrick stays away from Art. I don't need him getting distracted."

"I agree." You sternly said as you pressed the elevator button.

"Good." She stood next to you as the elevator opened. You both stepped in and looked straight ahead. "You look good."

"I know." You smirked slightly. "So do you."

"I know."

You both turned your heads to each other at the same time. She looked at you with a longing that you hadn't seen from her in years.

"Tashi..."

"Don't." She shook her head and looked at the floor.

You placed your hand under her chin and lifted her head up. Her caramel eyes flickered between yours and your lips. You began to pull away but she leaned forward and kissed you. Her soft lips felt like home against yours. But that comfort only lasted for a moment. The doors opened on her floor and you pulled back and caught your breath. She quickly walked out, leaving you alone with an empty feeling in your heart.

🎾SIX DAYS LATER🎾

The first game was almost over and Patrick was leading. You saw Tashi's hand ball up into a tight fist. It took everything you had not to reach over and hold it.

Art missed another hit and shook his head as it passed him.

"Game and first set, Zweig. Zweig leads. One set to love." The umpire announced.

Tashi got up and walked out of the stands. You looked at Patrick who was smirking. Then to Art who looked like a kicked puppy. You wanted to hug him and tell him it would be okay. But you knew it didn't work like that. Not anymore. Just when the set break was over, Tashi came back and sat next to you again. You slipped your shades on so that she wouldn't notice you glancing over at her.

"Time. Second set. Donaldson to serve."

🎾TWELVE YEARS EARLIER🎾

"I wish you were here." You said to Art over the phone as you walked to the plane. "I miss you guys."

"We miss you too."

"I'm gonna come out there as soon as I can."

"Hurry. I need a distraction from my math exam."

"I saw Patrick."

"How is he?"

"Living his dream."

"Yeah, I bet."

"I'm about to get on the plane, but I'll call you when I land."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

You hung up and slipped the phone into your pocket. You handed your luggage to one of the attendants and went up the steps.

"When are you gonna stop messing with that white boy?" Your mother asked as she sat next to you.

"I'm not messing with him. He's my boyfriend and I love him."

"He's a distraction, Ayesha. You've been a little off your game lately."

"I won the fucking open, didn't I? I won the Australian open."

"Yes, you did."

"I'm doing exactly what you wanted from me. I'm carrying on your legacy. So don't tell me I'm off my damn game. I'm on top of the fucking world."

Normally she would've snapped at you for talking to her like that. But right now, she couldn't have been more proud.

🎾

The California sun hit you as soon as you stepped out of the car. You slipped your sunglasses on and grabbed your bag out of the trunk. As you walked through the campus, heads turned in your direction. Even after all these year of people watching you, it was never something you fully got used to. 

"Who is it?" Art asked from the other side of the door after you knocked.

"Come find out."

You could hear him jump up out of his bed and rush to open the door. He had on a red t-shirt and some jeans. His curls were loose and messy, just how you liked them.

"You're here."

"I'm here."

He wrapped his arms around you and dragged you into his dorm. It wasn't messy by any means, but it wasn't as neat as you would've liked it to be. His red Stanford cap was sitting on the desk next to an open text book. His racket and tennis shoes were next to the door right by your feet. He had really made it his home.

"I missed you so much." He smiled as he set your bags down on the floor.

"I missed you too." You wrapped your arms around his neck. "I thought about you everyday."

"You did?" 

"Mhm." You kissed him softly as his hands traveled to your hips.

He led you to his bed and laid you down while he hovered over you.

"You are so beautiful." He whispered into your neck before he kissed it.

You whimpered as he softly sucked on your neck. His fingers trailed down your body and under your skirt. He softly rubbed your clit over your panties as he continued to mark your neck. 

"I need you." You whispered.

"I know, baby. Can I taste you first?"

"Yeah."

You grabbed the bottom of his shirt and lifted it up. He tossed it onto the floor as you followed suit with your top. 

"So fucking gorgeous."

You unclipped your bra and threw it down with the other clothes. His hands immediately went to your breasts. He leaned down to kiss them and he began to lightly suck on your nipple.

"Fuck." You sighed as you raked your fingers through his curls. 

You lifted your hips up when he went to pull down your skirt and panties. He lifted your legs up onto his shoulders and kissed the inside of your thighs. He pulled you closer and slowly licked your clit.

"Oh my god." You sighed and grabbed the bedsheets.

He switched between licking and sucking for a few minutes until you pulled him up.

"I need you inside me."

He smiled and pulled his jeans off. He tugged at the waistband of his boxers and threw them on the ground. His smile faltered and he cursed to himself.

"What?"

"I don't have any condoms."

You leaned over the edge of the bed and reached into your bag before pulling out a golden square.

"I picked some up on my way here."

"You're amazing."

He opened it and slowly slid it down his hardened shaft. He leaned down and kissed you lovingly as his hips found yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he slowly slid himself inside you.

"Fuck." He groaned into your neck. He began to move in and out of you at a slow pace.

"Art." You moaned while gripping his shoulders. 

"You feel so good, baby."

"Don't stop."

He began to pant as he picked up his pace. One of his hands slid down your body and found your clit. He began to circle it at the same pace of his thrusts.

"You're gonna make me cum, baby." You whispered in his ear.

"Me too." He grunted. "You're so fucking good."

His fingers sped up, causing you to hold his shoulders tighter as you got closer to your orgasm. You could feel him twitching inside you, about to let go.

"Cum with me." You pleaded.

He thrusted into you a few more times before he was releasing into the condom. You joined him soon after, throwing your head back against the pillow and moaning his name. 

"Holy shit." He gasped as he pulled out of you and lied down next to you.

You laid on his chest as you both caught your breaths, a light layer of sweat now covering you both.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

🎾

Later that day, you and Art had headed to the court to watch Tashi's match. You wanted to surprise her before the game started, so you snuck into the locker room and hid behind the open locker door. She closed it and jumped when she saw you.

"Hey, stranger."

"Ayesha!" She lunged forward and embraced you. "I can't believe you're here!"

"Believe it!"

"I missed you so much." She held your face in her hands and rubbed your cheeks with her thumbs.

"I missed you too." You placed your hands over hers. "So fucking much. We should do something after the match. Get dinner."

"Yeah, of course."

"Art and Patrick too. I heard he's in town."

"I don't know."

"What happened."

"I'll tell you later. I don't wanna think about him right now."

"Okay. I'll let you go. Good luck out there. Not that you need it."

You gave her a wave before heading back to your seat. Art was texting Patrick when both teams made their way onto the court.

"Is he not coming?" You asked.

"They had a bad fight or something. He seems pissed."

You tried not to worry about it as the match started.

"On court one, Maria Foster from Pepperdine, and from Stanford, Tashi Duncan."

You two clapped with the rest of the crowd as Tashi served. She had always been a ruthless player. But now, it seemed like there was something more fueling her. This anger that drove her to play harder. You were on the edge of your seat when she lunged forward to hit the ball. It seemed like everyone in the audience had the same reaction when it happened. Hundreds of gasps were followed by her painful cry as she fell to the ground.

"Tashi!" You and Art yelled as you ran down the stairs and down onto the court. You kneeled on the ground and lifted her head up to rest it on your knees. 

"It hurts! It hurts!"

"I know, I know." You whispered as you wiped her tears. "Just breathe. It's gonna be okay." 

You had taken her to the infirmary where they wrapped her knee until they could figure out another form of treatment. You and Art sat on each side of her, holding her hands. Footsteps approached the room and Patrick rushed in.

"Oh my god, Tashi."

"Out!" She yelled at him.

"I'm sorry, Tashi! Listen!"

"Out, Patrick!"

"Listen to me!"

"Patrick, get the fuck out!"

He gave up on trying to defend himself and walked out of the room.

"Let me talk to him." You said as you walked out after him. "Patrick."

"What?"

"What happened with you two?"

"What, she didn't tell you?"

"No."

"I come back after months of not seeing her, all she wants to do is talk about fucking tennis and how I suck at it."

"She's probably just tryna motivate you."

"No, she was being a narcissistic, judgmental, bitch."

"Don't talk about her like that."

"It's true. That's what she is. You're just too busy on her dick to notice." He walked down the hall and out the door.

[stars-and-the-min]

☆ the wrong way to hard launch | band profile

the band :

empty bottles AKA EB are an australian pop-rock band based in california, usa. they released their debut album 'overtime' in july of 2019 signed under UMG. their first international tour, the overtime world tour began from november of 2019 but was later cancelled due to the covid-19 pandemic; the tour was supposed to end in august of 2020. they released their second full-length album 'twelve more days' in september of 2022. their second world tour, the twelve more days world tour opened in melbourne on march 21, 2024 and has a current closing show set in los angeles on january 17, 2025.

official accounts: ↳ instagram: emptybottles_official ↳ twitter: EmptyBottles

management accounts: ↳ instagram: emptybottlesbar ↳ twitter: theemptybottlesbar

the members :

SELINA 'LINA' BUI 🩷

frontwoman of the band

plays lead guitar, also knows how to play drums and piano

main songwriter/composer

born 24 september, 2001

oscar's gf and zhou guanyu's cousin

main face claim: cheng xiao

usernames: ↳ instagram: selinabui ↳ twitter: EB_selina

LUKAS 'KAS' ZHANG ❤️

lead guitar of the band

also can play bass

secondary songwriter

grew up next door to lina

gets shipped a lot with lina but they mostly have a sibling relationship

born 28 march, 2001

main face claim: wang yibo

usernames: ↳ instagram: lukaszhang ↳ twitter: EB_KAZ

CAMELIA 'CAMI' YANG 💜

drummer of the band

also subvocal/backing vocals

graduated a year after her cohort bc of family stuff when she was still a kid

born 9 october, 2001

main face claim: n/a

usernames: ↳ instagram: cameliazzz ↳ twitter: EB_Cami

JONATHAN 'JONNY' SU 💚

keyboard of the band

can also rap but literally none of their songs need him to rap

secondary songwriter

met kas through school and soccer

born 13 may, 2001

main face claim: xu kai

usernames: ↳ instagram: eb_jonno ↳ twitter: EB_Jonny

AIDAN 'AID' PARK 🩵

bassist of the band

also knows guitar but prefers staying near the back of the stage

the second 'pull' of the band; he's the pretty boy bassist people come to watch

graduated a grade above the rest of the band (excluding cami)

born 7 june, 2000

main face claim: n/a

usernames: ↳ instagram: aidan_ebass ↳ twitter: EB_Aidan

[aliicante]

one (1) person said they wanted to hear more about the alex de minaur jannik sinner narrative so here we go

it is 2019. your name is alex de minaur. you are 20. you are seeded first in the atp next-gen finals, you have three actual atp titles, you're ranked 18th in the world, and you're an aquarius man; consequently, you are somewhat full of yourself. you wear tennis gear with your ridiculous nickname on it. you speak spanish every two seconds in the documentary, because you must show off. you believe you are, by all rights, The Main Character.

then this skinny italian wild card pops up and destroys you.

okay. that's fine. embarrassing!!! but fine. whatever. we move on. he's cool! you're friends! let's keep going. at the end of 2020, you run into him again in the sofia quarterfinals, where you take the first set and then he destroys you again. with a breadstick to really rub it in. he goes on and wins the whole thing, which means he wrecked you on his way to his first-ever atp title. fine! okay. whatever.

it is 2021. you don't see him again, which is just as well, because you have a soaring high and then a terrible low (string of r1/r2 losses). you drop to 34th in the world; meanwhile, jannik sinner has spent the year going from 37th to cracking the top 10. things are not looking great.

in 2022, you make it to the third round of the auso for the first time, where you meet—guess who—jannik sinner. again. you're starting to get really tired of this guy. he knocks you out of your home slam. thankfully you have a relatively successful year afterwards, climbing back up the ranks.

it's 2023! this will be your year, surely. you kick it off by winning your first 500. the sunshine double doesn't go great but you do brilliantly at queen's club and los cabos, only losing in the finals to top 10 players. then.... Canada.

you beat fritz. you beat medvedev. you make it to the final of a 1000 for the first time! and then jannik sinner is there in all his ginger glory, and, well. you know how this is going to go. bye-bye first 1000 title, hello increasingly miserable h2h. you start wondering if you're going to be there for all of this guy's career-defining wins. you start wondering why the hell it had to be you specifically. this is getting ridiculous. because now it's 2024 and he won the whole entire australian open and then to really seal in the whole thing he had to go and beat you, specifically in rotterdam to make some more history.

and like, you guys are friends. pretty good friends, actually. you played doubles once and it was hilarious!! but also, consistent and absolute annihilation??? seriously???

in summary i find their friendship absolutely mindbending. alex de minaur you must be the nicest person ever because personally if someone did me like this i would spend my entire life trying to blow them up with my mind

[blueywrites]

Where you and Steve swing with Eddie and Chrissy, and it gets complicated.

TO KNOW YOU'RE MINE (modern!swingers!au) (18+ only)

eddie munson x chrissy cunningham x steve harrington x you

fem!reader, chubby!reader, minimal use of y/n, body insecurity, swingers, smut, group play, mmf, oral (f & m receiving), fingering (v), p in v, dirty talk, praise kink

chapter five: bejeweled (15k) | playlist | AO3 | next

🎵 in this au, deftones=corroded coffin. the playlist is a combination of R's sad girl music vibes and some foreshadowing. the song for this chapter is #16.

And when I meet the band

They ask "Do you have a man?"

I can still say "I don't remember"

Bejeweled — Taylor Swift

Differences Between Butterflies and Moths

July 11th, 2019 — Australian Butterfly Sanctuary

Although both of these fluttering insects come under the classification Lepidoptera, they possess many differences that classify them as a butterfly or a moth.

Wing Position: One of the most obvious differences between butterflies and moths is their resting wing position. Moths rest with their wings open, whereas butterflies tend to rest with their wings closed. However, many butterflies "sun bake" with their wings open. This allows them to attract more sunlight.

Nocturnal vs. Diurnal: Butterflies are active during the day (diurnal), whereas moths are active at night (nocturnal).

Pupae: In the metamorphism from caterpillar to butterfly, caterpillars spin a pupa consisting of hardened protein. On the other hand, moth caterpillars form a soft silk pupa, which is known as a cocoon.

General Appearance: Widely speaking, moths tend to be stockier and have furry bodies, whereas butterflies are smooth and lean.

Colour: In general, moths tend to be duller and less vibrant in colour, with less intricate and striking patterns. Although this is a generalised rule, some moths, such as the Madagascan Sunset Moth are incredibly striking.

–

Frizzy curls, blonde waves, floppy bangs. Citrus, smoke, and a puff of expensive perfume. Blue and hazel and brown. Sighs or moans, breathy or hoarse, stifled in throats or muffled against skin. Smooth— from one to the other and back again. Easy, leisurely exchanges. As near to effortless as it could be.

In the weeks following your first time with penetrative sex, group play has become open and fluid. Chrissy with Steve, you with Eddie, you with Steve, Chrissy with Eddie— you rotate positions and shift combinations of people with ease. It seems almost natural to feel Chrissy's lips on your neck while you kiss Steve, to wrap your fingers around Eddie's length as he licks Chrissy. You eagerly anticipate Friday nights, letting the promise of mutual pleasure carry you through your long work days at the pediatrician's office. 

And you hadn't felt the sour bite of jealousy since that first time, either. You suppose you must be getting used to seeing Steve having sex with Chrissy, which is quite a relief. You didn't want to have to deal with those feelings escalating, dreading how it would impact your friendship with her and your group sex arrangement.

You and Chrissy have fallen into an easy rhythm when playing with your men. Sometimes you'll begin by cuddling with each other, giggling over something stupid one of them has said or a Tiktok video she'd sent you earlier that day. Sometimes you'll kiss Steve until you feel the brush of her waves against your cheek, and then you'll happily relinquish his mouth to find a different pair of plush lips instead. Sometimes you'll blow them, sucking Eddie's thick length for as long as you feel like until you pop off him to taste your boyfriend instead, letting Chrissy's lips take your place. Or you and Chrissy will work one of them together, tongues brushing as you lick-lick-lick at their heads until their cum paints two pairs of flushed lips, or perhaps your breasts when Chrissy pushes them together with dainty fingers. 

Sometimes you'll kiss her, tasting her sweet mouth as you lay side-by-side with Eddie and Steve's faces buried between your legs. You'll swallow her moans, and she'll swallow yours, eyes hazy and skin damp as your boyfriends press their cocks inside you, happy to have someone's mouth on yours while you're being fucked. You don't directly pleasure one another, and neither do Steve and Eddie pleasure each other— it's a mutually agreed upon though unspoken boundary that none of you feel the need to cross. But you delight in Chrissy's pleasure and she in yours. And once, when she'd been splayed across your bed, waves hanging off the edge as Steve fed his cock into her mouth upside down and Eddie pumped his fingers inside her, you'd gone so far as to suck on her pert nipples, aroused by the sight of her being filled. She'd squirmed until she came, so quickly that time, keening around Steve's length. You hadn't minded because you knew she'd do the same; in fact, she'd seemed eager when Steve asked if you wanted to take her place afterward. But you'd never given an upside-down blowjob before, and it seemed incredibly intimidating after watching her. Plus, with everyone's attention on you, you knew you'd both be pressured to cum and probably unable to do so. You hadn't faked an orgasm since that one time with Eddie, and you didn't want to do it ever again. If it happened, it happened, and that would be great, but you just… didn't want to falsify your pleasure anymore. It was a small miracle that Steve hadn't noticed and confronted you about it, but you weren't going to question your luck.

This Friday night is a temperate evening in late April. The lingering bite of winter has passed, and your windows are thrown open, letting a mild breeze tickle your damp skin as Steve's tongue dips softly into your mouth. The ambient sounds of the city below— the low rush of vehicles, a distant horn, the echo of laughter and shouts from people mosying by— mix with the sound of Chrissy's airy moans as she straddles Eddie's cock, rocking on him, sharp hips cradled by his hands. Indirectly, you can feel her moving through the rhythmic push of Eddie's body as he lays flat on the bed. You can feel it because his nose is repeatedly nudging against your clit. You pull from Steve's mouth to lick your palm, returning to smoothly stroking his length, humming as Eddie's hot tongue dips inside you while you sit on his face.

Before group play, you'd been very self-conscious about this position despite Steve's enthusiastic propositions over the years. You'd been overly concerned with the size of your thighs, worried you would smother him with your weight. And despite his assurances that he'd be fine, that he wanted you to be on top of him, you couldn't get over your insecurity enough to enjoy it the few times you'd relented. But, slowly, you were becoming more comfortable with your body and with yourself. You'd become less hesitant to try something new, despite still being nowhere near as uninhibited as Chrissy is. Though you don't especially love the way she talks dirty, you do admire that she has the confidence to do it, and you find yourself sometimes trying to emulate her, if not in words, then at least in spirit. The first step to that, you'd decided, is to not automatically say no to positions you'd previously shied from.

And, oh, are you glad you hadn't said no to this. It's quite delicious to experience all of these sensations at once: Steve's long hard cock in your hand, slick with your spit; his full lips on yours, all minty and crisp; and Eddie's eager mouth on your pussy, broad tongue working you from clit to entrance. Couple that with the knowledge of the others' pleasure— the twitching of Steve's hips into your grip, the filthy murmuring of Chrissy behind you, the rumble of Eddie's groan against your slick flesh— and all the unrelenting stimuli combine until your belly begins to tighten, cinders sparking to flame. You moan against Steve's lips as Eddie tilts his chin, relishing the rasp of his stubble as it contrasts with the slick fire of his tongue now lapping at your clit. Your hand moves faster on the cock in your grasp, and Steve's breath deepens as your other hand joins the first, twisting as he thrusts forward into your strokes. Instinctually, without much thought, you begin to circle your hips, lightly grinding your pussy against Eddie's mouth. You whimper as Steve grasps your breasts, kneading them while you chase that building feeling inside you; your breath quickens with excitement and anticipation when Eddie moans, the sound hoarse and muffled into your wet heat, vibrations increasing your desire. "Mmm," you hum, a little crease forming in your brow as your hands drag along Steve's cock, pleasure running thick and sticky through your veins. It buzzes like alcohol, but headier, sweeter; not yet enough to get you to your pinnacle, but enough to make you feel really fucking good.

The sudden rasp of a calloused hand on your hip has your breath catching; you feel it snake up your side, dragging a slow trail of fire up your damp skin. The tenderness of the touch, the way it supports you as you rock your hips— instantly, the tension in your belly increases, and you start to move faster. Eddie moans again, fingers tightening against your waist, and you know that it's because he can feel you growing more excited. His eagerness fuels yours, and soon you're panting, lips pulling from Steve's as you focus on the sensation of Eddie's mouth on you. When you feel Steve's lips at your jaw, you realize that your grip has slackened, that your strokes have grown slower; you reengage your efforts, working Steve faster until you feel Eddie wiggle his face underneath you, lips searching for and then finding your clit.

You whimper as pleasure flares when Eddie sucks gently on your clit, breath shuddering as his fingers rasp tenderly over your waist, beginning to drag back down your side. Struck with worry that his touch might leave you, one hand leaves Steve to reach for him. You find his hand quickly, lightly caressing those limber fingers and ruddy knuckles in a silent plea for them to stay. You sigh as Eddie weaves his fingers with yours, his grip snug and steady as your hands press against your waist. You're burning with pleasure, muscles tightening, but as you join hands, you feel something else wash over you. The feeling is lush and verdant, blooming from that point of contact, but you aren't quite sure what it is.

"Hey," Steve murmurs, and your eyes open, darting over his face almost with surprise. He kisses you, warm and gentle, and your lashes flutter as he draws away. "Can we switch positions?"

"Really?" you ask, voice soft, neutral despite the brief flash of disappointment you feel. Unconsciously, your fingers tighten around Eddie's.

"Yeah," Steve replies, and you register the heat in his stare, the slight roughness to his voice from being worked up. "Yeah, baby, I can't wait anymore. I need to be inside you." 

Despite your brief disappointment, you pulse as Steve voices his desire for you. "Okay, babe," you reply, kissing him before you lift one leg over to kneel to the side of Eddie's head. When you glance down at his face, you're struck hard by the sight of him: dark curls splayed across your duvet; brown eyes heavy-lidded and hazy, dark with desire; inked chest rising and falling as he pants, still rocked slightly by Chrissy's body; and, most of all, Eddie's lips, swollen and pink and glistening, chin wet from the slick of your pussy. 

The sight is so erotic that you can't help but duck to him immediately, cupping his jaw as you capture those lips in a hungry kiss.

Eddie moans quietly into your mouth as you descend on him, and he tastes like smoke and spice and salty musk from the flavor of you on his lips. Your tongues brush lightly at first, but the wet heat of Eddie's mouth has you needing more almost instantly. You deepen the kiss, lips smacking, tongue seeking; one of Eddie's hands finds your jaw and the other cradles the nape of your neck as he kisses you harder, pressing up into you, also wanting more. You feel a light touch on the crown of your head, and it's not Eddie; you realize it must be Steve, stroking your hair as you and Eddie devour each other.

That slight rhythmic rocking of Eddie's body ceases; you hear a light huff and draw back from Eddie, eyes gazing into his for a moment until you glance down his body to see Chrissy sitting motionless on his lap, bow lips pursed, blue eyes clouded with a hint of petulance. 

Steve's hand leaves your head. "Don't worry, honey," he soothes her, full lips crooked with a grin. "I'll take care of you, too."

Through your weeks of playing together, you'd noticed that Chrissy has a quirk: despite her typically bubbly nature, she seems to need at least one person paying attention to her at all times. It doesn't seem to matter whether that be you, Steve, or Eddie. As long as at least one of you is watching, touching, talking to, or pleasuring her— in the case of the guys— she is full of powdery-soft sweetness, bright eyes, and eager smiles. But if Chrissy feels that she's being overlooked, she'll make her displeasure known, usually by pouting or sulking until someone coaxes her back into contentment. Or, occasionally, she'll insert herself into the action to ensure she gets the attention she wants. Still, she never gets huffy or snappy, and she's otherwise so kind that it's easy to accept this quirk of hers. 

Plus, the way you're rearranging right now… it's pretty ideal.

You find yourself arranged upon two pillows, one under your head and one under your butt. You glance past the valley of your breasts and soft stomach to see Steve kneeling between your spread legs; you widen them as he nudges closer, your calf hooking behind Chrissy as she kisses him. Her fingers play in the hair on Steve's chest as he guides his cock to your entrance. You hear Chrissy suck in a quick breath as Steve's hand disappears from your view, presumably to finger her while he fucks you. 

It requires flexibility, deftness, and concentration, but Steve has already proven himself worthy of the task. He clearly takes pride in pleasing you both simultaneously, showing off his skills to you and Chrissy— and Eddie, to an extent, you suppose. You know Steve loves the way Chrissy praises him over his sexual prowess as much as he loves her talking dirty to him, and his resulting effort certainly benefits both of you.

Your eyes are drawn to pale thighs dusted with sparse hair as Eddie kneels beside your head, and they drag over the length of his thick cock as it bobs sideways over your face, skin slick and deeply, appealingly pink at the tip. As you feel one of Steve's hands grip your thigh and the warm press of his length against your entrance, your eyes flick to warm brown darkened to amber as Eddie stares down at you. This specific position is one you haven't tried yet, but you are nearly squirming with your desire to; your pussy is wet and throbbing, sensitive from Eddie's eager licking and the anticipation of Steve fucking you while you lavish Eddie's cock with your mouth.

You stick out your tongue, hips shifting as Eddie nudges closer to you. You reach up, fingers wrapping lightly around his base to keep him steady. And then, you lick a thick stripe up the underside of Eddie's cock as Steve presses inside you.

You moan into that first delicious stretch, chin tipping up, tongue wet and pink and supple as it drags across Eddie's length while Steve's long cock sinks deep into your pussy. You hear Steve groan as you envelop him, and Chrissy hums, moaning breathily as he starts to work you both. Steve begins to set an even rhythm— not slow, but not too fast or hard, just enough to jostle you slightly as you take Eddie into your mouth. He's hot as you lave him with your tongue, and you register a musky taste as Chrissy says cheekily, "Can you taste me on his cock?" 

"Mmm," you hum absently, eyes locked on Eddie's face framed by dark wild curls as those plush lips part in a slight groan; you relish his reaction as your sound vibrates against his sensitive head. You bob to take him deeper, sucking slightly harder as you watch him bite his lip. The angle is a little awkward, though it doesn't make you less enthusiastic as Eddie starts to move his hips with the rhythm of your head— gently, lightly, just enough for you to reward him by slipping the hand around his base downwards to cup his balls. You know he likes that, and you're pleased when his teeth release his lip so he can grin down at you.

Distantly, you hear Chrissy speak again, though this time, it's not directed at you. "You're quite the multitasker, Steve. I'm impressed. Stretching me open so well while you fuck her little cunt." As Steve hums in approval, you change the angle of your head, lightly kneading Eddie's balls as he thrusts lazily into your cheek. Fire smolders low at the feeling of Steve's cock in your pussy and Eddie's in your mouth. You moan, a slight, breathy sound, tongue playing against Eddie's length as you watch him reach for your face, dark eyes intent as his calloused thumb gently swipes at the corner of your mouth and chin to wipe away your spit for you. And you feel it again— that verdant, lush feeling that spread when he held your hand. As it blooms down to your belly, the moth wings flutter, beating a frenzy while Steve starts to fuck you faster, cock reaching deeper, hips pounding harder against your spread thighs.

You pull off Eddie then, fingers stroking over his length slick with your spit; you work him with your hand as you lick along his underside. And you really fucking love this— you love the way your body is shaking with the force of Steve's thrusts as you play with Eddie's cock, as you hear that smoky voice groan when you lick down to Eddie's balls, sucking one and then the other into your mouth. It's your fantasy come to life, and you whimper, pleasure flaring as you realize it, face flushing down your neck to your chest as your body rocks. You can hear Steve and Chrissy exchanging filthy words, but you register it only distantly as your breasts bounce with the force of Steve's pounding. You whimper again, muffled around Eddie's balls, the sound stuttering as Steve fucks you. 

"Shit." The sighed word is louder by proximity but said more quietly than Steve and Chrissy. You realize then that your eyes are closed, and they flutter open as you release Eddie's balls to lick up his cock again, moaning breathily until you realize he's staring intently at your bouncing breasts. 

You hadn't really been thinking about what your body looked like until you now register the intensity of Eddie's stare, and you feel a flash of insecurity. Your breasts aren't small and perky like Chrissy's; when you get pounded like this, they shake and jiggle, and so, to an extent, do your soft stomach, your thighs, and your ass. You haven't retracted your tongue, but your expression starts to crumple into hesitance until Eddie husks, "Fuck, sweetheart, you have no idea how gorgeous you look right now." He's muttering quietly, smoke voice rough with desire. 

Your belly flutters at the praise, at the fact that Eddie has chosen to speak so quietly. Because it means that he's only really interested in you hearing him. Not that it's a secret, or that he doesn't want the others to hear him, but that he only really cares that you receive his words. Pleasure twists, burning hotter as you lick up and down his length again before wrapping your lips firmly around his head. He exhales sharply, like a sigh of appreciation. "Christ." 

And as you feel the way Eddie's words affect you, always desirous for more of Eddie's reactions, too… caught in the pleasure of this moment taken straight from your deepest fantasies… noticing how Steve and Chrissy are still talking to one another, and thus distracted…

And with that tendril of green peeking through the earth at the bottom of you…

You decide to try something. You decide to tell Eddie the truth.

You pull off his head, replacing your mouth with your hand to keep stimulating him. And you murmur against his heated skin, voice soft and stuttering with the impact of Steve's hips. "I really like sucking your cock, Eddie."

As you see how his brown eyes widen and deepen, eyebrows jumping in surprised pleasure to hear you talking to him, you get the reaction you desire. "Yeah?" That smoke voice is nearly a purr, deep and sensual, sinking into the pit of your belly to smolder there. "You like it?"

"Mmm-hmm," you confirm, staring up at him as you lick his slit. You keep stroking him intently as you think about what you want to say next. And you feel a little shy, but Eddie's looking at you with such heat that you add, voice barely more than a whisper, "I want you to finish in my mouth."

Your eyes stay locked on Eddie's face, hips squirming as he murmurs back, "Of course, sweet girl. I'll give you all my cum."

"Mmm," you moan, pleasure flaring as you burn hotter, brighter at his promise and his praise. A little louder, you say, "I wanna swallow it." 

"Oh, fuck," Eddie groans, head tilting back as his hips jerk forward against your lips. And it's like as soon as you've voiced it, you need it— you need to taste the salty tang of his warm seed in your mouth, to see the flush of his cheeks, to hear the sound of his voice as you bring him to completion. 

You move your hand faster, lifting your head so you can bob on Eddie's length, taking him as deep as you can from this angle as Steve keeps fucking you evenly—

And then Steve's hips impact you hard, jolting your body as he groans deep in his throat. His rhythm stutters as he twitches inside you, pressing deep as he fills your pussy with his cum. But Eddie is fully in your mouth, and you didn't realize Steve was about to cum, so your teeth scrape against Eddie's sensitive head. 

You hear him hiss as he winces, and you pull off him immediately, brow crumpling in remorse. "I'm sorry!" 

The guilt fades as Eddie cups your head, calloused fingers gentle as his thumb rubs soothingly against your cheek. "No, it's okay," he says quietly. "I'm fine." You make a small sound as you lean into his touch. 

Steve is pulling out of you, but you're cupping your smaller hand over Eddie's, turning your face and kissing his palm softly. Steve is pressing Chrissy down to the bed, but Eddie is watching you, sighing as you take him back into your mouth. Steve is telling Chrissy how unbelievably sexy she is, but you're looking up at Eddie's plush lips as they part in pleasure, the pleasure you're giving him. Chrissy is moaning, high, feminine, and loud as she gushes around Steve's fingers, but Eddie's dark eyes don't leave yours, not once, not even for a second.

And as Eddie starts to twitch in your mouth— as his brow creases, dark eyes now desperate, hips rocking forward, pale quartz chest heaving under inked armor— you release him from your lips, gripping him tightly as you drag your fist over his thick length, over that spongy head flushed a deep pink, and you ask, "Will you cum for me, Eddie?"

Eddie moans, tight and high. "Fuck, yes—"

You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out to catch the first hot rope of Eddie's cum as his mouth falls open, and the sound he makes shoots straight down to zing into your pussy. Your thighs tighten, Steve's release squishing between your legs as you watch Eddie reach completion. You devour every second of his orgasm— the way his eyes scrunch shut, the pink flush of his cheeks and how it spreads down his neck; the way he grips the headboard, ruddy knuckles turning white as you continue to stroke him; the way he moans out his release, long and tight, hoarse and high, uncontrolled as he paints your tongue, your lips, your chin. You feel a thrill at the indulgence of it: cum in your pussy that leaks sticky between your thighs, cum on your face that drips warm and thick onto your breasts. 

Heat coils and pools low as Eddie's brown eyes blink open, hazy and sated. You lick him off your lips as he looks down at you. His eyes widen, and he seems almost awed as he sees the state you're in: hair mussed, lips flushed and swollen, a mess of his cum on your skin. But you don't feel the need to hide under the weight of his stare; instead, you take his head into your mouth, cleaning the salty tang from his slit. And when you do that, Eddie makes the most delicious sound. It's tiny, slight, but you hear it nonetheless: his lips press tight, his brow creases, and Eddie whimpers. 

He sounds pitiful, nearly pathetic, and as you register it, two things happen.

One, fluttering moth's wings burst instantly in your belly, beating up to your ribcage, trapped behind it as you release his tip with a gasp. 

And two, you see it again: that pink on Eddie's black and white, spreading as he holds your gaze, looking almost like he wants to glance away, but he can't. That blush isn't heat from his arousal; it's not sex flush. It doesn't look exactly like embarrassment, either. It's something else. Something that reminds you of the gentleness you sometimes see in his eyes.

Thin arms wrap around Eddie's shoulders, hugging him from the side as Chrissy happily nuzzles his cheek. Her strawberry-blonde waves are touseled, but they still look silky when she turns her head to glance down at you. "Oh, you already came? I wanted to watch." Chrissy sounds disappointed until her gaze dips lower. Her eyes brighten then, arms tightening around Eddie's shoulders as he glances at her. "Ooh, you really made a mess of her pretty tits, didn't you? You're so sexy, baby!" She smiles, and you watch Eddie crook a grin back as the mattress bounces on your other side.

Steve flops down next to you, sighing contentedly as he runs a hand through his damp bangs. "Damn, that was really fucking good—" He glances at you then, brows shooting up. "Oh, shit, babe, you're a mess."

There isn't any judgment in his voice, just surprise as his eyes dart over your chin and breasts; before you can respond, Eddie jumps in. "I can get her a towel," he offers quickly, and you glance up to see his hands on Chrissy's arms, pulling them from around his shoulders as she pouts. 

"Nah, man, it's fine. I got it." Steve's reply is easy and casual, and he flashes you a grin before he gets up. Though you'd all learned quickly that towels in bed were a must, the one you had prepared has been thoroughly saturated by the intensity of Chrissy's squirting orgasm.

The soft smacking of lips draws your eyes automatically, though they dart away from the sight of Eddie and Chrissy kissing as you watch the bathroom doorway instead, waiting for Steve to return as the cum begins to cool on your skin. 

He reemerges soon enough, hazel eyes fond as he brings you the towel. Your gaze drags over powerful shoulders, a solid torso, the thick brown hair on his chest almost furlike before it trails down his belly to end in a neat trim around his now-soft length. The mattress dips again with Steve's weight, and you're appreciative as he wipes you gently with the towel— first your lips and chin, then your breasts, and then between your legs. 

"Thank you," you say, smiling softly as Steve drops a kiss to your bent knee before propping himself up on an elbow beside you. You feel a shift behind you as Eddie and Chrissy leave the bed, presumably to go clean themselves up. 

You draw your fingers through Steve's bangs, smile growing as they flop back into his eyes again. "No problem, babe," he says warmly. 

But when Steve pecks you briefly on the lips, settling his head against his pillow with a contented sigh, you find your hand automatically reaching behind you, searching along the duvet. You're looking for the man who'd knelt before you, for those pale thighs dusted with sparse hair, forgetting for a moment that he's already gone.

-

It's been quite a while since you've stepped foot into the old cinema on Fourth and Main, but it seems nothing has changed in your absence. The carpet is still that dingy pattern from the mid-nineties, the air smells of age and synthetic butter, and they still have those oversized cardboard cut-outs displayed near the entrance. You beam as you see the ones depicting two giant blue people, pulling Steve eagerly along as he chuckles at you. Standing in front of the pair of giant blue people is a pair of regular-sized people in their casual best: a metalhead swathed all in black— sweatshirt, ripped jeans and all— and a former cheerleader adorned in soft pastels, complete with fuzzy slippers and a chic oversized sweater. You're all dressed a little warmer than the weather requires in anticipation of the frigid air conditioning the theater always seems to be pumping, regardless of the time of year. 

Your thick cardigan flops loosely against your thighs as you bound over to them, eyes darting from one face to the other: from Eddie's eager brown eyes and bright grin to Chrissy's baby blues and fond smile, bow lips only slightly pinched as you stop in front of them. Her displeasure has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the movie you're going to see; she doesn't share the same love of fantasy you and Eddie do. But Avatar: The Way of Water is the first big fantasy movie that's graced the big screen in what feels like forever. You'd been awash with childish wonder in the age of Harry Potter, Pirates of the Caribbean, and Lord of the Rings , and this release conjures an echo of that feeling. You're buzzing with that same youthful exuberance you'd felt seeing those films as a kid, and you see that same energy echoed in the frenetic bouncing of Eddie's knee, the edge to his manic grin.

"Hi!" You chirp, throwing your arms around Chrissy first, scrunching your shoulders as she squeezes you back.

"Hey!" She smiles wider at you, eyes extra blue with fondness as you release her to hug Eddie next. You can feel his excitement in the way he squeezes you tighter than usual, and your back bends with the force of his lean. You chuckle against his hood, and he only lets you go once you pat his back to ask for mercy. Steve joins you in greeting your friends as you ask if they've been waiting long.

"No, we basically just got here," Chrissy says with a light sigh. Her voice is wheedling as she throws out one last-ditch attempt: "Are we sure we don't wanna see Megan instead? It's playing at the same time; it would be so easy to switch since we haven't gotten the tickets yet…."

Eddie looks pained as he shifts on his feet, eyes locked on Chrissy's face, which is now puppy-dog soft in an effort to coax him. "Babe,” he says imploringly, “we’ve already talked about this, and we agreed…."

Chrissy pouts up at him, adding another chink in his resolve with her sweet voice. "It did better on Rotten Tomatoes, too." 

Eddie looks helplessly around at the rest of you, relinquishing the decision to you and Steve in his silence. Your shoulders fall; you knew Chrissy didn't want to see this movie, but you hadn't realized she was so vehemently opposed. And you know Steve isn't really interested in it either. He's basically in the same boat as Chrissy— just going along with it because he knows it's something you want to see.

Though your eagerness begins to edge into disappointment, you feel yourself already swaying with the invisible pressure of their preferences. You open your mouth to relent, but Steve answers first. "Yeah, but it still did well, and I've heard good things from people at the office," he says, relaxed and casual. "The first one was a huge hit. I think it's worth checking out."

At Steve's resistance, you see Chrissy resign herself. "Okay, fine," she says through a final, heavier sigh before looking up at her boyfriend. "Can we take a selfie with the blue people, at least?"

"Of course," Eddie says quickly. As they take their photo, you wrap your arm around Steve's, smiling against his sleeve as you feel him lean into the press of your cheek. You're grateful that he'd stuck up for your choice even though you know he'd probably rather see Megan too. You communicate it silently in the softness of your eyes as you look up into Steve's boyishly handsome face, and you feel a gentle flutter as he smiles back at you, full lips stretching in a crooked grin.

"Okay," Chrissy says, and her expensive perfume wafts over you as she draws closer. You release Steve as she asks, "Can you guys go get the tickets?"

"And the snacks?" you add, shooting a hopeful glance at Steve as Eddie flanks him. 

"'Course," your boyfriend replies, and together, you and Chrissy watch them lope away. You let her pull you toward a bench near the wall to wait. 

"Help me pick a filter!" You lean in as she holds her phone between you, opening up the Instagram editor. The picture is a low-angle selfie with Jake and Neytiri in the background; Chrissy is winking, and Eddie has his tongue stuck out in that characteristic way of his. A tiny fond smile tugs at your lips as you watch the shadows of his face transform, changing in depth and hue while Chrissy tests the different filters. "What about this one?" she asks, angling the phone to you at the same time that a text-message notification appears at the top of her screen. It's a message from her mom.

And you aren't trying to look, but your eyes are drawn to it automatically, scanning the text before Chrissy can dismiss it with a hasty swipe. "I've had it with you, Christine. You just do whatever the hell you want. You have some nerve using us and our money and still—

It's over in a second, but you're left reeling with the unintended intrusion. Your eyes dart to find Chrissy blinking rapidly, expression blank. Sympathy pangs high in your chest, aching in your throat. "Are you okay?" you ask quietly. You watch her chin twitch, and then Chrissy's smiling at you with those bow lips, revealing charming, slightly crooked teeth beyond.

"Of course! It's— I'm fine," she replies quickly, eyebrows tugged into an exaggeration of brightness, a mask she's wearing to convince you. But Chrissy's blue eyes are too expressive, and you know her too well now. She can't conceal the dimness there.

You consider asking her again or making an attempt at comforting her. But you abandon the thought quickly— you don't know the situation, and she's never spoken about her parents with you, so any attempts would come off clumsy at best. You nod, conjuring a small smile, but you don't feel right doing nothing, pretending it hadn't happened. So you reach out for her hand where it's fisted on her leggings. It's a silent show of support, a gentle overture that you hope helps.

After a moment, Chrissy loosens her fist, turning her hand and weaving her fingers through yours to squeeze you tightly. And you feel fondness bloom to mix with the sympathy when you look at her face again and see the relief, the gratefulness there. "I think that's a good choice," you tell her, nodding your chin toward the filter she's chosen.

"Me, too," Chrissy says warmly, pulling her fingers gently from yours so she can add a caption and post it to her story. She occupies the rest of the time showing you her Instagram photos, and you coo and fawn over them, knowing she's using it as a distraction from her earlier sadness. There are some of her and Eddie, some depicting herself in yoga poses, some with her and a group of girls you don't recognize in various locations— a winery, a farm in the fall, and a countless variety of bars. "This one is my favorite," she tells you happily, tapping on a photo of an aggressively-sleek electric guitar, shining red and slung around her body. Her hip is cocked with attitude, dainty fingers thrown high in a 'rock on' gesture, face scrunched with her tongue poking out. 

"It's super cute," you say, noting that others seem to agree; the post has more interaction than many of the others, though they all have dozens of likes, some approaching hundreds. 

The guys rejoin you then, and you eagerly accept the cup Steve passes to you. He has a large bucket of popcorn wedged under his other arm. "Cherry coke?" you confirm, grinning as he huffs familiarly. 

"Duh," Steve says playfully, and Eddie nudges him with his elbow.

"C'mon," Eddie says through his teeth, which are already clamped around a cherry-red Twizzler. "Chris's leaving us in the dust." You lean around Steve to see her leading the way into theater number three; she spins around when she notices you haven't followed, painted fingers working open her miniature bag of Skittles.

You trot after Steve as he follows Eddie, and Eddie follows Chrissy. You're soon plunged into dimness, surrounded by the rustling of other moviegoers hushed under the pre-movie reel depicting some actor interview. You realize then, as you gaze at Steve's back, that you want to voice your thankfulness for what he'd done for you. You draw close, fingers brushing against his wrist as his hand swings back; when he notices, he glances over his shoulder at you, hazel eyes warm as he wraps his hand around yours. 

"Thank you," you murmur, pausing at the end of the aisle to lift on your toes and kiss Steve's cheek. 

Steve seems pleased but confused. "For the snacks?" 

"No. Well, yes," you chuckle. "But no. For sticking up for the movie. I know you didn't really want to see it."

His face softens then, eyes alight with the glow of the movie screen. "Of course," he replies fondly, kissing your forehead. You smile big, shuffling eagerly after him as he sits next to Eddie. You flop into your own rickety seat, depositing your cherry coke into the arm holder as you wiggle, trying to find a comfortable position. The cushions are worn near threadbare, but you're too excited for what's coming to care.

Your excitement bursts out as you lean forward, looking across at your companions to tell them eagerly, "So I read this crazy thing about the first Avatar movie the other day. Apparently, James Cameron spent, like, millions and millions of dollars creating a soundtrack because he wanted it to sound like nothing anyone had ever heard before, with new time signatures and stuff. But then, because they were so successful at making it sound alien, Cameron decided it was too strange to include in the movie. So they scrapped the original soundtrack and made a more traditional one that they thought audiences would like better."

Steve nods slowly, like he doesn't entirely know what you're talking about but is impressed with your knowledge. "Shit," Eddie says, "that's—"

Chrissy leans forward. "That sounds super weird. I bet no one would've seen it if they kept it."

You shrug, replying lightly, "Yeah, I think that was the whole idea around changing it."

"That would've been cool, though." Eddie bites off the end of his Twizzler, chewing as he waves it in the air. "Like, here's this film that Cameron'd been waiting to make for years since the technology wasn't good enough to actually do it before 2009. So it's ground-breaking with its visual effects and also with it's fuckin' weird-ass soundtrack?" He grins. "Would've been a pretty ballsy move if they'd gone through with it."

"I guess." Chrissy tilts her head before pushing back, though her voice is without bite. "But when people go to the movies, they expect a certain thing. They want to actually enjoy their experience. So to do something totally unexpected…." Her eyes brighten as she thinks of an example. "Oh! It'd be like if you went to a Yung Gravy concert and this guy—" she motions to Eddie with her nose scrunched up, "came out. Huge letdown."

As Chrissy motioned to him, your eyes had darted to Eddie's face. So you see the split-second right before he smirks that it changes. It's minuscule, a minute twitching of his muscles, the briefest flash of something behind his eyes. And the theater may be dim, but you know what you saw.

Eddie chuckles dryly. "Yes, Chris, we're all fully aware you hate metal."

"Well, I'm just saying…" she defends, eyes darting around the group before landing on you. "You know what I mean, right, y/n? Not what I paid for!"

You know she's waiting for an answer, eyes locked expectantly on you. You swallow, only one split-second to decide how to respond: say what you really think or say what she wants to hear.

What you want to say is, No. I don't know what you mean, Chrissy. Can't you see you've hurt him? You thrum with your desire to push back, pressure building in your chest as your words beat against your breast, wanting to escape. But under the weight of Chrissy's bright blue gaze, those words stick in your throat, and you can't quite bring yourself to look into her face and argue so directly with her. Still, as your eyes dart to wild curls, the pale quartz of Eddie's blank face, and the dark ink of his eyes, neither can you bring yourself to agree with her.

So you don't say anything.

There's a long beat of uncomfortable silence before Steve interjects, joking to try to break the tension. "She can't relate— put her Spotify on random lately, and you'll hear T-Swift and Sleep Token one after the other." 

Chrissy wrinkles her nose. "Who?" 

Steve chuckles once, a little awkward. "Nevermind." 

Chrissy shrugs, unbothered as she pops a handful of Skittles into her mouth. 

The lights dim fully then, fading slowly into darkness as the first trailer begins. You feel the vague thrum of pressure behind your ribcage fade, the wrinkle eventually smoothing from between your brows as you watch it. You find yourself distracted, however, as you hear in the murmured, nearly one-sided conversation Eddie is having with Steve, how he's bemoaning that Lord of the Rings was the last good fantasy movie franchise.

"What about Harry Potter?" Steve and Eddie glance at you as you lean over Steve's lap, conscientious about keeping your voice down, so you don't disturb everyone around you. 

Eddie scoffs. "What about it? In no way does it compare to Lord of the Rings. They're not even in the same league." His voice is louder than yours, and you narrow your eyes, dropping your volume pointedly.

"Well, are you counting The Hobbit as part of the franchise? 'Cause those movies are total trash in comparison. I mean, I'll be the first to admit that the original trilogy is a masterpiece—"

"See?" Eddie interjects, triumph in the crook of his lips.

"But," you add, punctuating the word with a pointed finger, " The Hobbit trilogy totally falls short. Drags the whole ship down with it. It bombed so bad that I'd argue it's almost an equalizer."

Eddie sighs sharply, tugging on his dark curls as he leans further over Steve's lap toward you. You ignore how Steve is beginning to look disgruntled as you both crowd into his space; you're too invested in the argument to care. "I mean, look, the problem with The Hobbit is—"

"Dude." Steve's whisper is harsh with exasperation as he eyes Eddie. "I don't wanna be stuck in the middle of this the whole movie. Just switch seats with me." 

Steve and Eddie stare at each other for a second before Eddie shrugs, unfolding himself awkwardly so he and Steve can maneuver around each other. Your bucket seat shudders as Eddie falls into the chair beside yours, leaning intently over the armrest as if he'd never been interrupted. "The problem with those movies is, The Hobbit is a children's book. So not only is there less plot, there's also a lot more, like…" he waves his hands around as he speaks, "whimsy in it. And they kind of leaned into that whimsy, but they didn't go far enough. They were still trying to make it epic, so tonally, it was just a confused mess."

You nod eagerly as he speaks, eyes locked on bright brown. "No, I totally agree with you on that. They also never should've stretched it to three movies. Should've kept it to two at the most."

Eddie grins crookedly, rubbing his fingers together in front of his face as he leans back in his seat. "It's all about the money, darlin'. That's all it's ever about."

You huff a chuckle. "Yeah, really." 

You lapse into silence for a moment, but when you look at Eddie again, you're reminded of that brief flash of hurt you'd seen on his face earlier. He seems fine now, but it's needling at you: the insistent desire to check on him.

"Hey," you say quietly, and he glances at you curiously. "Um… are you okay?" His face goes blank, and you rush to explain, "I just mean, I thought that maybe… when Chrissy said—"

His brow crinkles immediately. "Uh, yeah," he replies, cutting you off, words whip-sharp— not harsh, not angry, but decisive. Dismissive. He chuckles once, looking perplexed as he glances away at the screen. "Why wouldn't I be fine?"

You blink at him, a little taken aback by his change in demeanor. "Okay," you say, voice small, nearly regretful to have said anything. 

Silence settles between you, and you realize that you haven't been paying attention to the last two trailers. You take a sip of cherry coke, sweet fizz bursting on your tongue as you turn your eyes to the screen, watching until you hear that smoky voice murmuring close by. 

"You know, I've got a tattoo of Sting." He's leaning casually back in the seat, twirling the end of his uneaten Twizzler-half as he watches the screen. "That's Frodo's elven blade," he adds when you remain silent, brown eyes flashing briefly toward you. They're gentle now, almost rueful, and you recognize the comment for what it is. Not quite an apology, but certainly an olive branch.

"I know what Sting is," you say, smiling as you draw his attention with your reply. "And I'm not surprised. You have, like, a bajillion tattoos."

Mischief suddenly fills Eddie's face. "Where do you think it is?"

You eye him, taking a cue from the sudden glint in his expression. "Probably on your ass," you say baldly.

Eddie barks a sudden laugh, harsh and loud, and the sound draws the irritated gazes of nearly everyone in your immediate vicinity. You shush him frantically, hand fisting in the soft material of his hoodie as you lean in. "Shut up!" You hiss, but there's no malice in it; laughter curls at your lips, begging to be released, and you see the mirth on Eddie's face as he ducks closer to you, dark curls tickling your cheek. 

His reply is a whisper tinged with suppressed chuckles, quieter than you've ever heard him to compensate for his outburst. "Don't you think you would've noticed by now if I had a tattoo on my ass?"

You snort, whispering wryly back, "I don't spend all my time staring at your ass, Eddie."

His eyes are wide and innocent. "Oh, you don't? That's too bad."

You know it's bait, but curiosity wins out. "Why's that?"

"'Cause that would've made us even since I spend a good deal of my time staring at your ass." 

Eddie smirks charmingly as he flusters you; you feel your cheeks heat, flush prickling insistently under his wolfish stare. You release his hoodie, leaning back as you resist the urge to squirm with the sudden flare of moth wings. He seems content to let you go, tipping up his chin, looking rather pleased with himself when you sneak a quick glance at him.

A slow, dawning comprehension comes upon you as your eyes run over his profile. You realize that Eddie's black— his sharpness, his wit, his wolfish smiles, the leather and chains and ink he cloaks himself in— are almost like a guard, an armor he wears to keep his gentle white from showing. Still, that gentleness can't help but peek through sometimes. Because you think, at his core, Eddie is a genuinely kind and caring man. You think there's a softness to him that he seems to want to keep hidden.

It makes you wonder why he feels he needs to do that.

Your ruminations are interrupted by the jaunty little 'silence your phones' clip that signals the movie is about to start. You snuggle down into your seat, eyes rapt on the screen as the opening scene begins.

The experience is precisely what you'd hoped for: visually stunning, delightfully nostalgic, an opportunity to re-experience that sense of childhood wonder that so often becomes lost in adulthood. And Eddie proves himself a delightful seat partner. You can see why Steve had eagerly switched places with him since you know most people would likely find Eddie's running commentary irritating, but his boyish excitement is so adorable that you don't mind. You glare at him playfully when he steals sips of your cherry coke, pretending to pout until you feel your cheek poked by the end of a Twizzler he offers in recompense.

"Damn," Eddie murmurs close, conscientiously quiet now that the movie has begun, and you resist a shiver as his warm breath puffs against your ear. "Those are some impressive dreads. Maybe I should get dreads."

You huff amusedly, eyebrow crooked skeptically as you glance at him. Your breath catches with how close his face is— close enough to count every long eyelash that frames those eyes, the most beautiful shade of brown you've ever seen. You gather yourself to reply, "No, Eddie. No dreadlocks."

His eyes dance, darting between yours as his plush pink lips pull into a crooked grin. "What," he whispers, "don't think I could pull it off?"

You swallow thickly, moth wings fluttering as he stares at you so intently from such a close distance. This certainly isn't the first time you've been this close to Eddie— you've kissed him countless times in your apartment. But this is different. You're in public, sitting in a crowded movie theater, so the setting is, objectively, less intimate than laying side-by-side on your king-sized bed. But maybe that's what makes it feel so intimate— that you aren't here to swing with him and Chrissy and Steve, to engage in daring acts of sexual debauchery. You're here to do something totally commonplace: watch a movie you'd been looking forward to seeing. One that you're now experiencing together with him.

"Nope," you whisper back, grinning so he knows you're teasing. Your eyes scan Eddie's disheveled curls, and impulsively, you tug on one as you add playfully, "Plus, I think the eighties mullet suits you."

When he doesn't reply, your eyes dart from the lock of hair in your grasp to his face, and you find him with his lips twisted against a broad grin, one cheek dimpled charmingly, brown eyes bright. Wings flutter again and the feeling is intense enough that you have to look away. 

Avatar: The Way of Water has a run time of one hundred and ninety-two minutes. That's just over three hours. And during the course of those three hours, as you see the wonder overtake Eddie's face as the light from the screen plays across his pale quartz skin, feeling that same sense of wonder inside yourself; as you sip your drink, passing the cup to him and accepting Twizzlers without a second thought; as Eddie smiles at you when your darting eyes catch, and you smile automatically back, something continues to grow at the very bottom of you. That tendril of green sprouts taller, straightening as it reaches for the light that shines in beautiful brown eyes. With each tiny brush of those callused fingers, leaves begin to bud, unfurling soft and fragile. Collecting that brightness, using it to feed your roots, to nourish you, so that you can grow strong. 

So that you can finally thrive.

Suddenly, you want to lift the armrest that divides you and press yourself against Eddie's side, to burrow into the plush softness of his thick hoodie. You want Eddie to wrap his arm around you, to hold you close, to envelop you in his warmth, in his scent, in the smoke of his voice. You want to stroke your fingers along the back of his hand, to feel the roughness there and the smooth metal of his rings. You want to bury your face in the crook of his neck, to shove your nose against the musk of his skin, to feel the tickle of his curls against your cheek. 

A poignant yearning fills you as you want, you want, you want—

"Want some popcorn?" 

There's a bucket half-filled with popcorn hovering over Eddie's lap, and your eyes dart to hazel and a swoop of artfully-disheveled bangs. Mutely, you shake your head as Eddie takes a handful, shoving it in his mouth as your boyfriend settles back into his seat. You watch dainty fingers dip into the bucket, the sway of Chrissy's strawberry-blonde hair as she leans forward, blue eyes locked on the screen as she absently presses popcorn past those bow lips.

A pang of annoyance curdles in your stomach; a thought blooms, sudden and violent.

You wish Steve and Chrissy weren't here. You wish it was just you and Eddie.

Almost as soon as it comes, that pang of annoyance leaves you; you balk at the thought immediately. You lift your head from Eddie's shoulder to glance again at Steve— Steve, your boyfriend of three years, who'd fought for you to see this movie even as he yawns widely now, eyes dull with boredom. What's wrong with you? How could you think that? The sticky tar of sinking guilt weighs on you, and you settle back into your seat, retreating from Eddie's warmth. 

He glances at you briefly, but you avoid his gaze, eyes locked instead on the screen. But you aren't really absorbing anything, caught up in the sudden realization that, in the course of these two months of group play, double dates, and late-night texting, something has finally caught up with you. 

You have a crush on Eddie. 

The realization twists you up in its grip, unable to be ignored now that you've acknowledged it. And when the theater lights finally rise, conflict rages within you, tumbling with the thick guilt and the flutters you can't help but feel when Eddie's hand brushes incidentally against the small of your back as you leave the theater.

You school your face into neutrality as you wrap your arm around Steve's, clinging to him tightly as soon as he's discarded the empty bucket of popcorn. You paste on a smile as you say goodbye to Chrissy, guilt panging at the soft kindness in her eyes as she acknowledges, "That was actually better than I thought it would be! I'm glad we went."

"Yeah, I liked it," Eddie says, plush lips crooked with a grin. 

"Good," Chrissy says, warm and fond as she smiles up into his face.

You hug her tight, and though you hold on for a beat too long, she just sighs against you contentedly, none the wiser that the strength of your embrace is due to that oozing sense of guilt inside. You're both dreading and longing for Eddie's goodbye hug as you lightly wrap your arms around his shoulders. Despite yourself, you relish the contact as his arms close around you, warm hands rubbing briskly along your back, and your neutral expression crumples as you feel his lips press briefly against the side of your hair. You barely manage to school your face again before pulling away, flashing a quick smile as you decisively take your boyfriend's hand.

And as you leave the theater with Steve, you glance back only once at the man dressed all in black, watching him lope away until the urge to retreat from the sight overtakes you.

The sticky tar of guilt spreads within. It shades your growth, oozing down into the earth at the bottom of you, trying its best to wither your roots.

-

The thing about the human psyche is that it'll do whatever it can to protect and preserve its sense of self. Humans cannot live forever with guilt; it must be resolved somehow. And, in your case, your guilt will do one of two things.

It may smother that fledgling growth inside you. In that case, your feelings for Eddie will weaken until they finally wilt away. Or you will tell Steve that you no longer want to swing with Eddie and Chrissy, thus nipping the problem directly in the bud.

Yet there’s still the other possibility: that your growth may survive, too sturdy to be smothered by that oozing tar. In that case, you will reason that Steve is happy— happier than you've seen him since he'd gotten that promotion at work over a year ago. You will reason that you've both gained two close friends, good friends who are good people, whose company enriches your lives. You will reason that you are mature enough to separate feelings and lust, to compartmentalize so that all of you can continue enjoying your sexual encounters together— the same way you'd controlled those feelings of jealousy. And you will not reason this, but somewhere, deep down, you will know it: that being close to Eddie feels too good for you to stop. 

Your leaves are delicate, and that green stem has just uncurled. But your roots are deep, long-nourished by light and ink-black charcoal. 

It takes startlingly little time for the tar of your guilt to dry and crumble to dust.

-

It's another Friday night, not long after your trip to the movies. You're crowded around the tiny bar table, head swimming from the celebratory shots you'd taken with the other girls— two of Chrissy's friends, who'd come with you all for drinks after the charity fundraiser Chrissy had helped organize for the yoga studio she teaches at. One of them is telling a story, something about the results of the rose ceremony from this week's Bachelor episode. You're trying to listen, but your eyes can't stop flicking to black and white. You burn for the moment you will finally leave this place, for when four pairs of feet will shuffle through your front door, kicking off shoes and tugging off clothes on the way to the bedroom.

You've never seen Eddie dressed like this before, and you must admit, it's doing something to you.

He's still wearing those tight black jeans, the wallet chain, and the dark boots he's so partial to, but his shirt is uncharacteristically formal. It's a white button down, worn untucked, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, two buttons now popped at the collar to reveal a peek of that dark body armor across his chest. The ink snakes down his forearms, tendons stark as they run below the leather bracelet strapped around his wrist. Your gaze trails across ruddy knuckles, chunky silver rings, and those limber fingers that run along the edge of his whiskey glass, silently reminding you just what he can do with them.

And then there's his hair.

You've seen Eddie's curls frizzy with rain, damp with sweat, loose around his shoulders, gathered into a low bun at the nape of his neck. But you've never seen him with a ponytail— hair scraped back along his skull, curls a thick cascade, short pieces dusting his sharp jaw, the silver of his earrings winking at you in the light. He looks utterly delectable.

Fuck, you want to devour him.

It's such sweet relief when you finally agree to call it a night and burst from the bar's front doors. This early May evening may be mild, but it's still enough to cool your burning cheeks as you stumble to your Uber, crammed into the back seat with Chrissy and Eddie as Steve takes shotgun. Giggles abound— from you and Chrissy, not so much Eddie— during the short trip back home, warm and resonant like the alcohol crawling through your veins. 

You suppose you've had more shots than you'd realized.

Car turns to elevator turns to hallway, and then you're home, staggering through the threshold as you shed your heels, practically vibrating with anticipation as the others join you. 

And then there's the bed, with its soft duvet and fluffy pillows begging you to sink into them. You're dragging your dress over your head as the mattress dips and more bodies join yours, and you emerge from the fabric to see Chrissy in her black bra and thong, Steve dressed down to his furry chest and tight blue jeans, and Eddie in his loose green boxers, limber fingers working the buttons of that white shirt open. 

You shuffle closer, burning anticipation settling to a comfortable simmer now that you're all finally alone together. You smile fondly as you wrap one arm around Chrissy's back, leaning in as her dainty fingers find your waist. Her mouth is sharp with alcohol as you open your lips, pink tongues darting teasingly, equally interested in tasting one another as you are in putting on an enticing show for your men. You smile into the kiss as you hear their groans, and Chrissy's hands trail tantalizingly over your waist, cupping your breasts over your bra. She pushes them together, pulling her mouth from yours so you can press your cheeks close, gazing heavy-lidded over at your men. 

They're both down to underwear, lean pale quartz beside tanned solidity, lounging comfortably back against your pillows as they watch you. Eddie's arm is slung casually around Steve's shoulders, hair freed from the ponytail now as Steve's temple leans against his, one leg bent, the other hanging off the bed. You and Chrissy continue to gaze at them, cheeks nuzzling, her hands kneading your breasts until your boyfriends glance at each other, knowing what you want.

You suck on your bottom lip as you watch Eddie and Steve kiss, muffling a moan in your throat as their mouths open wide, tongues dipping inside, strong jaws working as their faces press close. They know you and Chrissy love watching them kiss, and they oblige you easily now, reaping the benefits of how worked up you both get from the sight. Chrissy's hand leaves one of your breasts to turn your chin, kissing you again for a little while as you listen to the soft smacking of Eddie and Steve's lips. You're still hazy with alcohol, drunk on wine, tequila, and the low rumble of masculine moans that shoots straight down to throb in your pussy. Your desire quickly grows insistent, burning low in your belly; as you squirm with it, thighs tightening to try to bring relief, Chrissy nips your lower lip cheekily before letting you go. 

You turn intent eyes to the men before you, to the columns of their necks that seem to beg for your mouth to nip and suck and mark them up with pretty bruises. You have two choices. You could choose the tanned one, nape dusted by the touseled brown waves of Steve's hair, solid and powerful. He's right in front of you; all you'd need to do is shift forward on your knees, and you'd reach him. Or, you could choose the pale neck, framed by Eddie's long dark curls, angular and corded. He's farther away; you'd need to cross in front of Chrissy to reach him.

The choice is simple.

Eyes locked on pale quartz, you clamber sloppily past Chrissy's folded legs and drape yourself across Eddie's chest to reach his neck. The first contact of your lips against that warm column has you sighing in relief, trailing open-mouthed kisses up to that spot just beneath his ear. You can feel Eddie's jaw working as he keeps kissing Steve while you suck on his throat, and when you nip him playfully, you relish the moan that rumbles low in his throat, vibrating against your lips. Insistently, you work him until he finally breaks away from your boyfriend; as soon as his mouth is free, you're swooping in, capturing kiss-swollen lips, swallowing his moan as he opens for you to dip inside. 

Eddie always tastes a little spicy, no matter what else has been in his mouth— alcohol, Twizzlers, Steve's tongue. It's this tantalizing flavor that you now associate with Eddie, and you search for it with your own tongue, kissing him deeply until he's wrapping his arms around you. More uninhibited than usual, thanks to those tequila shots, you feel a flash of mischievousness, acting on the impulse before you can think better of it; you tip to the left, dragging Eddie down flat onto the bed with you. You feel him chuckle into your mouth, and your lips curl in a smile, legs tangling with his as soon as you're both sideways, pressing close to the heat of his skin.

Eddie leans eagerly into your kiss, one arm trapped underneath you, the other trailing lightly over your back. You reach behind you to snatch him by the wrist, nearly straining a muscle in your haste to unwrap his arm from around you; boldly, you drag his hand down, pressing his fingers against your pussy over your panties. 

He breaks the kiss then, plush pink lips crooked with a sensual grin as he murmurs low, "Eager tonight, are we?"

"Mm—" you whimper at the heat in his smoky voice, the light flush that already stains his cheeks. You lean toward his ear, and his lips brush your sensitive neck as you whisper your drunken admission. "You looked sexy in that shirt. With your hair tied up."

Eddie's breath puffs against your throat, and you tip your chin, leaning into the warmth of his lips as he murmurs, "Don't think I didn't see you watchin' me all night, sweet girl."

You can hear the smirk in his voice, and you giggle, biting your lip as his mouth presses to your neck, kissing softly, teasing you with the tip of his tongue. "Mm," you whimper again, wedging your hand beneath the waistband of his loose boxers. Your fingers brush the dense hair there, caressing it lightly as Eddie's hand dips into your panties. As one of his fingers presses between your folds to seek your clit, you grasp him, pulling until he pops from the fabric, head brushing red-hot against your abdomen. You stroke him once, then again as his finger teasingly circles your clit, catching the cinders in your belly aflame.

You press your hips into his touch, seeking more, but Eddie's finger retreats, brown eyes dancing with his tease as he goes back to touching you lightly. Well, two can play at that game. You nudge your nose against Eddie's, fingertips trailing to his tip, smiling slowly as you draw one fingernail feather-light across his slit.

His reaction is immediate— Eddie groans, his chest rumbling against yours as he bucks into your touch. You gasp as his finger dips abruptly lower, firm and decisive, hooking into your entrance without warning. It's a teaser for later, a little appetizer compared to the delicious stretch of Eddie's thick cock, but you hum nonetheless, pleased to be touched by him. 

Eddie moves his finger, pressing as deeply as possible from this angle. "You know you make me crazy when you do that," he murmurs quietly against your lips. 

"That's kinda the point," you tease, voice breathy as he continues to finger you. 

Eddie's manic smile lights his brown eyes from the inside. "Mmm," he hums approvingly before kissing you hard, tongue stroking yours as you moan into his mouth. You work each other for a while until you feel the bed shift beside you, considerable movements that draw your attention. You peer over Eddie to see that Chrissy and Steve are rearranging themselves: Steve's now lying flat, hazel eyes wide and eager as Chrissy crawls down his body. His hands find her hips as she ducks her head, taking him into her mouth as her pussy descends on his lips. 

Eddie glances over his shoulder briefly, pale neck stretching and inviting your lips. You nose beyond the curtain of his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his throat. When his chin nudges gently against your brow, and his hand finds your cheek, you sigh, leaning into his touch as he draws back to look at you.

"Hey," he murmurs, tucking your hair behind your ear, "would you wanna try being on top? Would you like that?"

You blink, fighting your instinctual answer: no, you would not like that. It's a lot of work to squat and move that way for very long; your legs always start burning almost immediately, it seems. Plus, you feel very exposed on top, like your partner can see every jiggle. Your gaze darts between Eddie's calm brown eyes; you're torn between the desire to reject the idea outright and your slowly-burgeoning openness. 

Eddie seems to sense your hesitation as his face, which was already soft, softens even further before he presses a sweet kiss to your lips. His thumb rubs against your jaw, soothing you. "You don't have to say yes," he says, low and reassuring. "But when you're on top, you can go as fast or slow as you want. You can grind down on me. You'll be in control; it'll make it feel good for you."

You'd never thought about it that way before. Still, you hesitate, admitting, "I don't know if I can squat for that long."

Eddie's eyebrows crinkle, and you aren't sure if it's in confusion or sympathy. "You don't have to squat, sweetheart," he whispers. "You can just sit on me." 

You blink again, cheeks pinking. "Oh." It's a little embarrassing that you'd never thought of that, but Eddie's face is free of judgment as he waits patiently for your answer. And you suppose, with that clarified, that there's no real drawback if Eddie's to be believed. As fast or slow as you want, riding Eddie's thick cock… you feel a tingle as you think about it, pussy pulsing around his finger that's still inside you. You watch him lick his bottom lip as he feels it, and your excitement increases.

You're already near to accepting when Eddie adds, finger stroking you gently inside, "And I'll let you know when I'm about to cum so you can pull off me."

You imagine Eddie flushed beneath you, husky voice tight as he stares into your eyes and tells you, 'I'm gonna cum, sweetheart—'

A thrill races through you, and you can't suppress your whimper as those moth wings flutter wildly at the thought. Eddie's arm underneath you tightens, lips finding yours before you can answer. You moan into his eager mouth, and Eddie kisses you breathless until you pull away to gasp, "Yeah— yes. I wanna be on top."

His eyes brighten, and he kisses you one last time before dragging your panties from your hips. You work his boxers down, wiggling to assist him as you both chuckle, your mutual hastiness more of a hindrance than anything. Your bra follows, and soon enough, you're both bare; Eddie lays down flat on your bed, guiding you to sling a leg over his narrow hips.

You register the wet sounds beside you, glancing briefly to see Chrissy's head bobbing between Steve's legs and Steve's hands squeezing her ass as he eats her out. But your gaze quickly returns to the man beneath you: dark curls splayed against your duvet, eyes warmed to deep amber, pupils blown wide as you reach behind you, fingers searching blindly for his cock. You hold it up straight, squirming to find the right angle, and you watch Eddie swallow thickly once his head notches between your supple folds. His hands settle on your hips, raspy and warm as you take a deep breath.

And then you begin to lower down onto him.

Over the many weeks, you've grown used to the tight press of Eddie's cock, shorter but thicker than Steve's. Still, this angle renders that delicious slide even more intense, and you clamp your lips against a desperate whimper as you feel him stretch you open. His thumbs brush light circles against your lower belly to encourage you as you sink onto him. "Just go slow, sweetheart." Eddie's voice is hoarse but soft with concern as you engulf him, and you sigh, wings fluttering as you obey; you pause until the pinch fades. And then you sink down, and down, and down until you're flush with the dark snatch of curls at the base of his cock, which press deliciously against your swollen clit.

Eddie's inked chest rises and falls, head tipping back as you take him to the hilt. "Just move when you're ready," he says.

But Eddie doesn't know you're already ready.

You move your hips experimentally, breath catching as his thick length shifts inside you. His hands encourage your movements, kneading your hips as you test out what you like— rocking back and forth, making small circles, lifting up slightly to fall back onto him. Eddie provides gentle guidance until you discover what works best: a quick shifting of your hips, angled to press against your front wall, with just a bit of lift to feel the slide of his hot thickness within you. Your movements grow bolder, more confident— longer, faster motions that pique your pleasure. And you hear that low rumbling moan again as Eddie's plush lips part, dark eyes like liquid heat as he watches you. "That's it, pretty girl," he murmurs, and his smoky praise coils tight in your belly, stoking both your desire and those fluttering wings. 

Normally, being pinned with such an intent stare while you're on top— unable to keep your breasts from bouncing, nowhere to hide how your stomach is soft and your thighs are bigger than your partner's— would overwhelm you with self-consciousness. But Eddie's looking up at you with such desire that, in this moment, you feel as pretty as he says you are. 

Eddie's next comment is considerably less smooth. "Christ, your tits are just—" Eddie exhales sharply as if in disbelief, and his lips tilt in a goofy grin.

You quirk a brow, prompting him dryly. "Just what?" 

"Just, like… shit, I dunno. I just wanna bury my face in 'em." Eddie drags his hands up your body to cup your breasts, squeezing lightly before squishing them together. 

He watches how they move in his grip with such awestruck delight that you can't help but laugh, hips slowing as you're overcome with your amusement when he wobbles them playfully. "You laughin' at me, y/n?" Eddie huffs, though his eyes glint with mirth.

"No." You blink at him innocently, but you can't help yourself. A tiny smirk spreads as you say, more sensually, "I'm fucking you."

Eddie's eyes go wide, darkening immediately. "Hmm," he hums, hoarse and low with approval. He grins wolfishly, murmuring, "Yeah, you fuckin' are."

Your pussy pulses as you inhale his words, letting them fill you, rich and heady. Your hips move faster on Eddie's thick length, and you bite your lip when his thumbs brush over your nipples, flicking lightly, sparking pleasure that flares into flame inside you. You'd already realized that Eddie is vocal in bed— well, he's vocal all the time, really. But not only is he often humming, and moaning, and groaning out his pleasure; he also enjoys talking to you, watching the way his words affect you, how they build your pleasure. And you're learning that your words can do the same for him— that it's not just your body that can elicit the reactions you desire in Eddie.

And you want that now— to talk to Eddie the way he talks to you, to bring him pleasure through the silky caress of your voice. You glance to your right as you rock on Eddie's lap, feeling a little hesitant with Steve and Chrissy right next to you, especially Chrissy, who always seems to know exactly what she wants to say. But they're moaning into one another's skin, mouths occupied, bodies rocking in pleasure, eyes closed as they lavish one another. They seem adequately distracted— like they're too caught up in their own activity to notice what you're saying. And as you look down at Eddie again, your desire to increase his pleasure allows you to push past your hesitance.

You swallow, chewing on your lip as you consider what to say. When you finally decide, your voice is a little timid, but you're proud it doesn't shake. "Am I making you feel good?"

Eddie's husky groan is instant. "Yeah, sweet girl. You feel so good." 

You whimper as his response coils your pleasure tighter, making you burn hotter. You watch his head tip back to reveal the pale cords of his neck, plush lips parted, the rise of his chest deepening as he hears your sound; he drags his hands back down your body, clutching at your hips, hot fingers pressing into your flesh. Yes. You sigh, brow creased pleadingly as you stare down at Eddie, needing more of his reactions.

You're a little less timid now. "Mmm. You like being inside me?"

Eddie's fingers tighten even further; his voice is suddenly tight too. "Shit, yeah, I fuckin' like it." 

As he clutches you, you feel his legs shift beneath you, and your eyes widen in alarm, perch suddenly unsteady. But then his hips are thrusting, matching your rhythm, the quick drag—slide—lift—fall that now presses his cock deliciously harder into your pussy. You whimper again; pleasure flares as you glance behind you to see that Eddie has planted his feet so he can fuck up into you. He holds you securely, and you relax into his support, letting the flames build as you move together.

Your breath comes quick, pleasure twisting with the anticipation of what you will tell him next. Your voice is silky as your words flow from your lips. "I'm so wet. You make me so wet." 

Eddie groans, deep and low in his chest at your admission. And it's true— you can feel your slickness increasing, his cock gliding more easily as you fall heavily down onto him, clit dragging against his coarse dark curls. You're growing hot, muscles beginning to tighten with fatigue, but you barely notice— you just want to keep chasing Eddie's reactions and the feeling that's just starting to tingle low in your belly.

Your voice almost doesn't sound like you— it's breathy, airy as you caress him with more of your silk. "I wanna be a good girl for you." 

"Fuck—" Eddie grunts, words tumbling from his lips like they're racing to reach you as quickly as they can. "You're so good for me, sweetheart. Shit, that's it, you're taking me so well."

You're both moving faster now; Eddie's hips are slapping against your ass, and your breasts are bouncing, but you aren't thinking about that at all. All you're thinking about is how the press of his thick cock increases that tingle and brightens the flame within you. Genuinely, without trying, you say, "Feels so good, don't stop—"

Eddie's hands shift on your hips, grabbing tighter as he fucks up into you a little harder; you moan, chest heaving with deep breaths. And as that tingling grows more insistent, you want something to hold onto, to anchor you. So you clutch at Eddie's hands, wedging your thumbs underneath his palms, holding on tight to him. Eddie moans as he looks up at you, face flushed, bangs sweat-damp and beautifully soft against his forehead. You whimper, skin heating, tingling pleasure swelling in your belly, building gradually toward that familiar precipice you've only ever reached alone. And if Eddie would just keep moving like this, looking like this, doing exactly this, for just a little longer…

There's no affectation in your voice now— you're just raw, just genuinely needy for him. 

"Please," you beg, "please, don't stop, Eddie—"

"Oh shit, fuck—!"

And that's the only warning you get before Eddie starts to cum.

You gasp as you watch his brow pinch; his mouth falls open as the cords of his neck stretch, and his hips press up into you tightly, no longer moving. And as you feel Eddie's dick twitch violently inside you, you burst with wings that beat up through your belly to your chest, fluttering so wildly you're left reeling. 

You don't make any attempt to move off of him. You can't. You're frozen, rapt, attention honed to the feeling of Eddie's hips collapsing to the bed underneath you, to the way his muscles quiver with his release, to the noises he makes as you instinctively grind down on him, to the warm flood of the seed he fills you with. Eddie whimpers and moans, tight and high, and you don't realize it, but you're whimpering, too— crying out your yearning in a sound that approaches harmony.

The moment is just as breathtaking, just as captivating as you'd imagined it would be.

 When the twitching of Eddie's cock finally stills inside you, you're both left silent, breathing heavily, hands still nearly intertwined against your hips as you stare at one another wide-eyed. Your sexual pleasure has begun to fade, but it doesn't matter right now. All that matters is how Eddie is looking at you, how you're looking back at him. Hesitant. Tentative. 

Pink on black and white. Green from the bottom of you.

"Dude—!" The harshness, especially after the almost spell-like silence that had settled between you and Eddie, makes you jerk with surprise, adrenaline spiking in your chest. Your stomach swoops as you register Steve's face— nostrils flared, brow snarled low over thunderous hazel eyes locked on his friend. "What the actual fuck?"

Your eyes dart between them, wincing as Eddie's face blanches and his eyes go so wide as they meet your boyfriend’s gaze. "I—I'm sorry," he stammers, wrenching his hands from under yours as if he's been burned. "Fuck, I'm—" The pale of his face slowly fills with bright, furious red. "Shit—"  

Eddie drags his palms harshly over his face, shoulders scrunching toward his ears. "I'm so embarrassed," he muffles into his hands, leaving them there as if in a futile desire to hide. Your heart is hammering, panging with compassion for Eddie's distress just as much as it's thundering with the oppressive tension of this moment. Steve is so angry— angrier than you've seen him in a long time. Maybe ever. Because there were only two rules— two rules that you'd all sworn never to break. 

And Eddie has, very flagrantly, broken one. 

You look at Steve, wide eyes pleading, voice soft. "It's okay, Steve," you say, trying to diffuse the tension. "He didn't mean to. It was just an accident." 

Steve glances at you but doesn't reply, lip twitching as his gaze quickly flicks back to his friend. 

Eddie finally pulls his hands from his face. His bangs are mussed, brown eyes heavy with remorse as they dart almost reluctantly to Steve. Voice hoarse, cracked. Sincere. "I'm so sorry—"

"Yeah, you said that," Steve snaps, and your insides twist into knots at the uncharacteristic edge in his typically-smooth voice, the tension in his brow, the hardness of his handsome face. 

After a moment, Steve exhales harshly, both hands carding roughly through his hair; you can tell he's struggling with himself, fighting to keep under control. And as you're washed with the radiating force of his ire, feeling helpless to ease the situation, your chin begins to tremble; you avert your eyes as they sting with the sudden prick of tears. 

You know it's not your fault, not really. But you can't help but think that if you'd just gotten off when you felt Eddie start to cum, just moved, just done something— all of this could've been avoided.

The mattress dips beside you, and a soft arm wraps around your back. "Don't be mad, Steve," a powdery-soft voice says, calm and mild. A tender hand runs over your hair, soothing the sting of your tears before they can fall.

Steve sighs, scrubbing his hands over his face as Eddie had. He looks at you then, expression no longer hard, staring silently for a moment before he speaks. "It's fine," he says, voice utterly devoid of feeling. "Just go get cleaned up."

Not wanting to linger for even one more second, you hastily pull off Eddie's still-hard length, and Chrissy releases you as you clamber off the bed. You bite your lip as you retreat into the bathroom, feeling Eddie's cum trickle down your leg, still warm.

The closed door buffers you from the coldness of your bedroom, allowing you space to process what just happened— Steve's fury, Eddie's embarrassment, and most of all, the feeling that had bloomed within you when Eddie filled you with his release. You retrieve a towel, carefully wiping yourself, eyes avoiding the sticky mess that smears the cloth. When you examine your feelings, you're left feeling torn. Because you're acutely aware that Steve's upset, and his distress upsets you. But you're also acutely aware that the way you'd felt when Eddie came inside you was unmistakable.

You'd loved it. You'd loved every single second of it.

You clean yourself thoroughly, wavering for a while, hesitant to emerge and find that the situation has devolved in your absence. It's been quiet— no yelling, which is a good sign, but you can't be sure. Still, eventually, you can't delay it anymore, so you crack the door, chewing on your bottom lip as you emerge.

Steve is alone, sitting on the end of your bed, still naked. His head is bowed, but he glances up when he hears the bathroom door creak open. Tension releases when you see Steve's hazel eyes are now clear as he stands to meet you halfway. When he enfolds you in a soft embrace, you lean into him, brow pinching.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"No," Steve says firmly, arms tightening, holding you securely. "I'm sorry, y/n. You didn't do anything wrong. I know it was an accident. It happens." You release a shaky breath as his broad palm finds the back of your head, stroking slowly as he murmurs against your forehead. "I'm not mad at you," he says quietly, and the reassurance brings sweet relief.

Still, you have to ask; your voice is small when you do. "Are you mad at Eddie?"

Steve's answer comes slower this time. "No," he says eventually, almost begrudging, yet still honest.

You release the rest of your breath, hugging him tighter. "I love you," you say, muffled to the fur of his chest. 

You feel Steve's cheek against the top of your head. His voice isn't muffled, but it's quieter than yours. "Love you, too."

–

Your phone always buzzes past midnight, usually closer to one most days. But tonight, when it does, it's only half past eleven.

You've just come out of the shower, skin scrubbed free of sweat and cum, steam hanging heavy as you comb the tangles from your hair. The bzz-bzz against the bathroom counter immediately draws your eye, and your heart thumps at the name on your screen. There's no message text— just a tiny colored box that loops through a two-second animation.

You pull the towel tighter around your damp body and swipe the message open.

It's a gif, which is already entirely out of the norm for Eddie. But what makes you stare, face contorting slowly in a combination of deep incredulity and begrudging amusement, is that the gif depicts one of your favorite artists in her early years: Taylor Swift, donning black glasses as she holds her hand-drawn sign up to the windowpane with a little lopsided pout. The sign says 'Sorry' with a frowny face.

As Taylor pouts at you again and again, you bite back a hysterical giggle. It's the most utterly absurd 'apologies for cumming inside you when I wasn't allowed to' message that you could imagine— not that you have any experience on the matter. 

And, honestly? It's kind of perfect.

Your lips pull into a broad, eye-crinkling grin as you tap-tap-tap your message back. 'Here is your penance. You must listen to this in its entirety and render your verdict,' you write, sending the link for Bejeweled— the most anti-Eddie song you can think of from Taylor's newest album.

You go back to untangling your hair after you send it, already formulating your reply as you anticipate hearing back from him almost instantly, figuring he won't actually listen to it. But you have time to moisturize your face and arms before you hear your phone buzz again.

You swipe hastily with a knuckle, too impatient to wipe off your hands. Your eyes scan the message, and you huff, shaking your head as you read it. 'Catchy as fuck. I like the part where she says 'diamonds in my eyes' real slow on the offbeat.' And he's given it five diamond emojis out of five.

You're torn between amusement and sympathy at the over-generosity of his rating. You wipe off your fingers so you can reply. 'I know in truth that song burned your poor bard ears. But I appreciate your earnest appeal for my sympathy.'

You keep your phone in your hands, watching the dots linger on the screen for a long time before it finally comes through. 'You got me. I really am sorry, y/n. Hope Steve isn't mad at you.'

'He's not,' you assure Eddie. 'I asked him and he said he's not mad at you either. He knows it was an accident.'

'Thanks.' There's a pause, and then, 'Hope you're not mad at me, either.' Moth wings flutter, and you bite your thumbnail as you stare at the message for a moment before replying. 

'It's really okay.' You pause before you hit send, twisting your lips against a smile as you add, 'Kind of flattering, actually.'

Eddie's response makes you giggle. 'Quit teasing me. You're gonna make me blush.' He's made it too easy; you can't resist.

'You mean again?' you ask, adding a winky face.

An 'ugh' follows— all caps, punctuated with a period. You beam with delight, typing out your laughter before conceding. 'Sorry, couldn't resist. Okay, going to bed now. Night!'

You set down the phone to brush your teeth, glancing as it buzzes one final time. But you look back, eyes lingering once you register Eddie's final message. 'Sleep well, sweet girl.' You can nearly hear him say it; can nearly feel the rasp of his hand on your cheek as his smoke whispers against your skin. 

And as you snuggle down into your bed that night, your mind conjures the ghost of curls that brush your cheek, kissing you softly as you peacefully succumb to sleep.

[lovelytsunoda]

baby, it's cold outside // daniel ricciardo

summary: daniel and his wife celebrate his first christmas without f1 with their daughter while they reminisce on how they got there.

pairing: daniel ricciardo x wife! reader

warnings: just family holiday fluff : )

author's note: why do so many of my christmas collection stories involve kids?? ( george, daniel, charles )

it was bright outside when daniel ricciardo woke up, the bright australian sunrise streaming through the blinds as he stirred in the king sized bed, pulling his wife closer. she hummed in contentment, turning over to nuzzle her face into daniel's warm, bare chest.

"morning, darlin'" the former mclaren driver chuckled, pressing a kiss to y/n's forehead. "how did you sleep?"

"fine." she hummed, eyes still closed as y/n ricciardo absorbed her husband's warmth.

the couple were spending christmas in perth with daniel's parents. y/n had always loved the ricciardo family farm, and she knew that it had always been daniel's happy place. it was a place filled with love and laughter and it had meant even more to them since they had someone else to share it with.

their little girl, cadence elizabeth.

it was march of 2018 when y/n found out she was pregnant. the couple had been married for just under two years and had been casually trying to get pregnant, and daniel would have been lying if he said that news of his daughter's impending arrival hadn't been a big factor in his inevitable move to renault. they'd tried to shield their little bundle of joy from the media for as long as they could, protecting her from the horrors of the world while she was still too young to understand.

as if on cue, the door to the guest bedroom creaked open, floorboards bending under the weight of tiny feet. daniel and his wife giggled, trying to hide further underneath the blankets as they felt the mattress dip under the weight of their new guest as she jumped up and down.

"mommy! daddy! wake up, it's christmas!" cadence elizabeth ricciardo shouted with glee, a stuffed giraffe tucked underneath her arm as she jumped up and down, her parents giggling as daniel sat up and pulled the girl into his arms.

"good mornin' kiddo." daniel laughed, pressing a kiss to his daughter's forehead as cadence giggled. "let's let mommy sleep just a little longer, okay? we'll go find grandma and grandpa and make some breakfast, what do you say"?

"and then can we do presents?" cadence begged, eyes wide and pleading.

y/n laughed, the top of her head sticking out from underneath her blanket cocoon. "eat your breakfast first, cadence. and then we'll open the presents with your grandparents, okay?"

daniel got out of the bed, lifting cadence up so that the four-year-old could sit on his shoulders as he left the bedroom. y/n watched them go with a smile, her heart filled with love for the man she married, and the bundle of joy that they created.

life hadn't always been easy. cadence had been born in january of 2019, and while daniel had been able to take the rest of the month off, he eventually had to go back to work, flying to england to help renault prepare for the season. some of the hardest moments of those first few months had been hell for y/n, having to weather it on her own as daniel travelled the world.

and it hadn't always been easy for daniel either. he had missed cadence's first steps, her first words spoken over a video call.

y/n and cadence had been in the paddock a few times before the 2019 season ended, but never for very long before she had to leave cadence with daniel's pr rep, not wanting the noise and the energy levels to upset the poor darling.

twenty-twenty had been considerably harder, but at least daniel got to spend some of it at home, making up for all the lost moments as cadence reached her first birthday. because of covid logistics, y/n and the baby hadn't been able to come to any of the races, out of concern for cadence's fragile infant immune system.

and daniel thinks that might have been when he first started to consider settling down, slowing his life down a bit. he'd always wanted a family, and now he felt like he had been neglecting the ones that he loved the most.

so when it came down to it, looking more and more likely that he was going to be ousted from mclaren, the driver wondered if it might be for the better that he took some time off to reevaluate his career and spend more time with y/n and cadence.

y/n carefully tip toed her way down the large staircase that opened up into the main floor kitchen, sleeves of her sweater pulled over her fingertips and arms crossed over her chest as she stood in the doorway with a content smile on her face.

christmas carols played on the radio while daniel stood in front of the stove, dancing subtly as he fried up some eggs. cadence was sitting on the bar stool in front of the island, grace ricciardo braiding her granddaughters hair as cadence laughed at her father, a plate of scrambled eggs in front of her.

“merry christmas, candy.” y/n giggled, pressing a kiss to her daughters head. “did you sleep well?”

cadence grinned, looking up at her mother. “look, mummy, santa was here!”

“oh, wow!” y/n played along, looking over at the sparkling christmas tree. part of her surprise was genuine, as she didn’t expect grace and joe to have bought cadence so many things. “I think santa is spoiling you.” she grinned, with a knowing and pointed look at grace, who just shrugged.

“my granddaughter has been very good this year.” grace smiled, pinching cadence's cheek.

"you spoil her." y/n mouthed with a laugh before walking the perimeter of the island so that she could stand behind daniel, wrapping her arms around his midsection and resting her head on his cheek. "merry christmas, baby."

"merry christmas, hon." danny smiled, kissing his wife on the nose before extricating himself from her hold and sipping around to face her.

the radio next to the stove was playing softly, and when the song changed, the australian couldn't help but grin as he started to sing along, taking her hand in his.

"i really can't stay, baby it's cold outside."

its the same thing every year, a family tradition if you will. that family tradition being daniel's terrible singing and a dance with his wife, who will usually humor him and join in with the singing. every time the song came on the radio, they had to stop and sing.

despite all of it's controversy, it had always been y/n's favourite christmas song, partly because for twenty-seven years of her life, she had never seen snow before. the year after they started dating, daniel had helped her make that a reality by spending christmas in austria.

"my mother will start to worry." she couldn't stop the smile spreading on her face as daniel spun her around the kitchen

"beautiful what's your hurry?" daniel sang into the whisk that he was holding while grace and cadence clapped int he background, the younger girl still attempting to teach herself the words

"my maiden aunt's mind is vicious." she sang sweetly, looping her arms around daniel's neck as he pressed a kiss to the side of her head, his baritone voice churning out the next lyric.

"gosh your lips look delicious."

"well, baby it's cold outside!"

grace and cadence clapped, and joe looked very confused as he came back inside from tending to the farm.

"what did i miss?"

"how about we start opening presents now that grandpa is back?" daniel suggested with a laugh. "cadence, why don't you go with your grandparents and pick one out. your mother and i will be in there in a minute."

"okay! come on, grandpa!" cadence laughed, running across the room to launch herself into grandpa joe's arms.

y/n laughed thoughtfully, looking at her daughter and her in-laws. "wanted some time to ourselves, did you?"

"wanted to give you something." daniel hummed, taking a small box out of the pocket of his sweatpants.

"daniel joseph ricciardo!" y/n rolled her eyes. "we talked about this! i told you not to get me anything. i have you and cadence, i don't need anything else."

"you say that every year."

"danny."

the driver laughed, passing her the box. "babe, just open it."

rolling her eyes again, y/n slipped her fingernail inside the seam of the box, opening the lid before taking in a breath. inside, on a fine satin pillow, was a pair of earrings. a pair of pearls stacked on top of each other to make little snowmen, with tiny diamonds for eyes and strips of silver for arms.

"daniel, they're gorgeous. thank you." she said softly, one hand on his cheek as she pressed up on her tiptoes to kiss her husband. "i love you."

"i love you more. taking time off from the track will be good for me. i can't wait to spend all of next season by your side, watching our little girl grow up."

"mommy! daddy! hurry up!"

the couple laughed, y/n's head still resting aginst daniel's chest as he kissed the top of her head.

"come on, let's go see what your parents bought her this year."

Tags:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @sidcrosbyspuck @daydreamingleclerc @flannel-cures @mignonricciardo

[fritzes]

can we talk about alex de minaur's record against the current top 10 because it's fascinating

djokovic: 1-1. their first match at the australian open was literally a murder by djokovic, and then a year later de minaur straight setted him at the united cup

alcaraz: 0-2. not really much to be said here, alcaraz was just the better player in both of those matches

medvedev: 2-6. it's split 4-4 on straight set vs non straight set matches. their matches in the back half of 2023 were especially interesting because de minaur was clearly the better player in their match in toronto and then daniil kinda smoked him in the us open and beijing

sinner: the famous 0-6. the only time he technically won was the walkover in paris when the scheduling was all fucked up. sinner has served five bakery products against de minaur

rublev: 3-3. this matchup is so interesting because they have pretty much exact opposite play styles and their h2h is even. weirdly enough, their last match went to five sets at the australian open, and in the fifth set de minaur somehow managed to get bageled

rune: 2-2. like rublev, a very even h2h and pretty different styles of play. predictably, rune has won every indoor match and de minaur has won every outdoor match

hurkacz: 1-1. they haven't played since 2019, so not much to say here

fritz: 5-3. this is so funny to me. de minaur was up 3-0 in the h2h until 2021-2022, where fritz evened it out to 3-3. then in toronto, fritz was up like 5-1 in the first set and de minaur somehow managed to win the set and then the match (I distinctly remember watching this). then he beat him again this year at the united cup. fritz's un-clutchness when matched up with de minaur's clutchness is genuinely hilarious

tsitsipas: 0-10. this (and jannik) is the entire reason why I made this post. of all the players in the top 10, de minaur's worst record is somehow against stefanos tsitsipas of all people. it has been five years of tsitsipas dominance in this h2h, through all his slumps. de minaur hasn't beaten him once. how is that even possible

his overall h2h: 14-34 (29% win rate)

his overall h2h excluding tsitsipas and sinner: 14-18 (44% win rate)

he does pretty well against big hitters like rublev, rune, and fritz, but not against alcaraz, sinner, and even tsitsipas who are big hitters that incorporate more strategies than the former three guys. he also doesn't have that many wins over his fellow defensive players (medvedev and, to some extent, djokovic)

not really sure why I suddenly went on a whole tangent about alex de minaur but here ya go

[collegetennisoriginstory]

watching tennis for the first time ever on YouTube because of your story. for reference i’m watching the 2008 Wimbledon Federer v Nedal match (i hope i spelled their names right)

BROOO that's one of the most epic tennis matches ever to have been played. And probably my fave of all time!!

Other faves:

Novak Djokovic v Roger Federer - 2019 Wimbledon Final

Novak Djokovic V Rafael Nadal - 2012 Australian Open Final

Also, I've not watched this but after reading The Rivals: Chris Evert Vs. Martina Navratilova: Their Epic Duels and Extraordinary Friendship, I was obsessed with them and this match has been on my to-watch list for a long time: Chris Evert vs. Martina Navratilova, French Open Finals, 1985

Other honorary mentions:

Bjorn Borg vs. John McEnroe, Wimbledon Finals, 1980

Monica Seles vs. Steffi Graf, French Open Finals, 1992

[glcive]

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☾ welcome ☽₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

about me

you can call me juno or astraea

im a cancer sun, libra moon and sagittarius rising

my pronouns are they/she (and my pronoun page is here)

i'm a proud bisexual (i am very sapphic lol)

im taken (you can hear about my love via the “them tag <33")

i am a minor (i won't immediately block people 18+ but if you're creepy i will <3)

australian!! also a bunch of different places, none really interesting

this blog is for me to dump thoughts, interact with people and just have a good time :)

i play the drums and im currently in two bands! i also love playing guitar and one of my 2024 goals is to get better at playing!!

currently listening -> 🍁☕️🎸 nyc

currently reading -> the odyssey translated by emily wilson

currently watching -> doctor who and rewatching gilmore girls

things i like

i love: literature, the arts, queer culture, astronomy, feminism (no terfs allowed!!!!), fruit flavoured drinks, flared pants, converse, dark red, nail polish, eyeliner, burgundy lipgloss, tank tops, tote bags, brie (always dreaming of cheese), pinterest, spotify, my headphones, the ocean, my grandparents house (im there rn i love it), spring+winter, very specific shades of pink and green, black <3, folklore and 1989 girl, fiddling around on the guitar, fantasising about being a famous musician, finding new music, snow, picking silly little outfits,

books: osemanverse, the hunger games, books by rhiannon wilde, tim te maro's subterranean heartsick blues, all the best liars, books by octavia butler (specifically parable of the sower and parable of the talents), the last true poets of the sea, acotar, the weight of the stars, the seven husbands of evelyn hugo, the picture of dorian grey, house of hollow, howls moving castle, harry potter (mainly marauders, FUCK JKR), i kissed shara wheeler, red white and royal blue, song of achilles

movies + tv shows: dont look up, little women (2019), scream (i like most of them but 1996 is my fav by far), ladybird, barbie (2023), some of the mcu (thor and guardians of the galaxy <33), spiderverse (itsv is my love), gilmore girls, stranger things, loki, heartstopper, arcane, scott pilgrim takes off, she ra

musicians/bands: boygenius, taylor swift, lovejoy, glaive, brakence, paramore, ricky jamaraz, melanie martinez, lana del rey, ashnikko, girl in red, billie eilish, doja cat, big thief, adrienne lenker, ethel cain, mitski, remi wolf, cigarettes after sex, ericdoa, tv girl, clairo, the neighbourhood, bon iver, deftones (getting into them just a little), maneskin, courtney barnett, poppy

my favourite colours are black, dark red, burgundy, denim blue, sage green, soft pink, glaucous blue, golden yellow (i love colour theory so all colours are beautiful in their own context but here are my favs to wear/see)

i really want to get into more poetry so if you have any recs lmk!!

i have recently begun practising some very simple witchcraft, so feel free to talk to me about that and i would love to learn more!!

i love learning about astrology and use my birth chart frequently

i write very, very infrequently and think of more stories than i even start to plot lmao.

i draw way more than i write and will occasionally post some!! its not good by any means but its fun ig

talk to me + dni

my asks and dms are open!! feel free to talk to me about anything and everything!! i love talking!!

i love my mutuals so much so if ur my mutual *looks you dead in your eyes* i love you

my discord is the same @ as here, i literally just got it today so idrk how it works but feel free to add me there <33 but please lmk if you do if your username is different

if we’re very close you can ask for my insta!!

i rarely follow people without an intro post/descriptive enough bio (with name, age group, pronouns) so if you want to be mutuals please have one!! if not just shoot me an ask about who you are and what you like so we can be friends <33

dni: rude, racist, homophobic, transphobic, zionist, terfs, sexist, ableist, antisemitic people

tags

#juno.txt -> ramblings, original posts

#asks -> asks ive answered

#ask bait -> hehehe send me asks <3

#tag games -> tag games ive participated in

#beautiful mutuals -> interactions with my beautiful mutuals!

#spotify -> my music obsession dw im fine fhdklfhdal

#them tag <33 -> posts that remind me of my wonderful bf <3

links + sideblogs

spotify

pinterest

@likeasugarcubeinateacup -> my notes app poetry

@slowrotburiedinthepark -> a random sideblog i post art and occasional web weaving on

@stabbingstarsthroughmyback -> my writing sideblog (ask me about my wip!!)

stunning dividers by @chachachannah :))

here is a totally beautiful and amazing moodboard by @svnflowermoon that always makes me so fhadkfhakd

last updated: jan 19th 2024

[rodlaveraryna]

RAFOLE + ALL TOO WELL (10 MINUTE VERSION) by TAYLOR SWIFT matches in order: australian open 2019 winners' speech, us open 2011 final, us open 2010 final, australian open 2012 final, roland garros 2022 quarterfinal, roland garros 2006 quarterfinal.

[coochiequeens]

If they allowed one TIM in because he had the surgery and legal documents changed then it would open the floodgates to other TIMs in various stages of transition.

Females-only app that banned trans woman says it was creating a 'safe space'

This is the first time a case alleging gender identity discrimination has been heard by the Federal Court.

Roxanne Tickle was issued a birth certificate stating she was female a year after undergoing gender-affirming surgery in October 2019. Source: AAP / Bianca de Marchi

KEY POINTS

Trans woman Roxanne Tickle was banned from female-only social media platform Giggle for Girls.

Her lawyers argue this is discrimination on the grounds of gender identity.

Giggle's barrister Bridie Nolan said the app was created to give women a safe space.

Lawyers for trans woman Roxanne Tickle have argued she is a woman and was discriminated against when she was banned from using a female-only app.

The question of whether someone is a woman is not just biological but also social and psychological, a court has heard on the first day of a landmark trans-rights lawsuit.

Trans woman Roxanne Tickle is suing female-only social media platform Giggle for Girls after having her access to the app revoked in September 2021.

The app and its founder, Sall Grover, illegally discriminated on the grounds of gender identity, Tickle's lawyer Georgina Costello told a Federal Court hearing in Sydney on Tuesday

"The evidence will show that Ms Tickle is a woman," Costello said.

"She perceives herself as a woman. She presents herself as a woman."

'An online refuge'

Giggle's barrister Bridie Nolan said the app was created to give women a safe space, free from "male online digital violence".

Grover experienced sexual abuse during her time working as a screenwriter in Hollywood and had undergone trauma therapy, the court was told.

The app offered a range of ways for users to connect, including finding roommates and engaging socially or romantically.

"The vision was to create an online refuge," Ms Nolan said.

"It would be a place without harassment, mansplaining, d*** pics, stalking, aggression."

Nolan argued the app was not in breach of sex discrimination laws, which allow for "special measures intended to achieve equality".

The app created greater "equality between men and women in public life" by creating a safe space for women online, she said.

Therefore, excluding Tickle, who Nolan argued was a man, would constitute a "special measure" under the laws, she said.

Lawyers for trans woman Roxanne Tickle argue she was discriminated against when she was banned from using a female-only app. Source: AAP / Bianca De Marchi

Costello labelled Giggle's arguments "artificial, after-the-fact justifications" for discrimination against transgender women.

Tickle was issued a birth certificate stating she was female a year after undergoing gender-affirming surgery in October 2019.

Costello told the court in her opening statement that "gender is not merely a biological question, it is partly social and partly psychological".

"Ms Tickle was assigned male gender at birth but she has changed to being a woman and that fact is clear in this case," she said.

Representatives from the Australian Human Rights Commission, including Sex Discrimination Commissioner Anna Cody are assisting the court by providing submissions about the "meaning, scope and validity of relevant provisions of the Sex Discrimination Act".

"The commissioner is not a party to the proceeding and has not made submissions about whether Ms Tickle was in fact discriminated against," the human rights commission said in a statement.

It is the first time a case alleging gender identity discrimination has been heard by the Federal Court.

'Unwilling to tolerate any view contrary to their own'

Supporters for both sides gathered outside the Federal Court for the start of the proceedings, protesting within metres of each other.

Justice Robert Bromwich said the court would not tolerate any "intimidation or harassment" either within the courtroom or outside it.

Protesters against transgender rights gathered outside the Federal Court of Australia in Sydney. Source: AAP / Bianca de Marchi

"I appreciate that the issues from this case give rise to strongly held views and emotions," he said.

Some members of the public had shown they were "unable or unwilling to tolerate the existence of any view contrary to their own", Bromwich added.

Justice Robert Bromwich said the court would not tolerate any "intimidation or harassment" either within the courtroom or outside it. Source: AAP / Bianca De Marchi

In a statement filed with the Australian Human Rights Commission in December 2021, before the Federal Court case was launched, Tickle outlined the alleged discrimination.

"I believe that I am being discriminated against by being provided with extremely limited functionality of a smartphone app by the app provider compared to that of other users because I am a transgender woman," Tickle wrote.

"I am legally permitted to identify as female."

The hearing continues.

Published 9 April 2024 3:56pm

Source: AAP

[pupphe-additions]

✬Evie's Idol Profile✬

✬Basics✬

Group: Stray Kids Stage Name: Evie English Name: Evelyn Kim Korean Name: Kim Nari (김나리) Nicknames: Eve, Lyn, Evie, Evs, Nani, Bear, Bug, Nini, Lovey, Vi and Ari Position: Dancer, Rapper, and Vocalist Birthday: July 6th, 1998 Zodiacs: Cancer/Tiger Birth Place: Sydney, Australia Ethnicity: Korean Nationality: Australian Languages:

English (native/fluent) Korean (fluent) Auslan (fluent) Auslan is Australian Sign Language Spanish (fluent) Japanese (learning/conversational)

Family: Grandma (Deceased), Grandfather (Deceased), Mother, Father, Older Brother, Younger Sister, a niece, and a nephew Instagram: skz.eve98

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

✬Physical✬

Height: 152.4cm (5’0) Weight: 44.9kg (99 lbs) Blood Type: A Body Modifications: belly button piercing, triple helix (left ear), lobe and upper lobe (both ears) | two tattoos Face Claim: Soyeon (G)I-DLE Dance Model:  1M Dance Studio Yoojung Lee [x] [x] [x] Rap and Vocal Model: Dreamcatcher Dami [x] [x]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

✬Personality✬

MBTI: INTP Positive Traits: Caring, open minded, loving, logical, empathic, intuitive, protective, and ambitious Negative Traits: Extreme stubbornness, perfectionist, jealous, can be rather moody and impatient Strengths: Open mindedness, curious, creative, talented, and passionate Weaknesses: Impatient, perfectionist, disconnected often, standoffish, low self esteem and self worth, and overthinks everything 3 Words She Would Use to Describe Herself: Hard working, loving, and open minded 3 Words STAY Would Use to Describe Her: Brave, caring, and understanding 3 Words Stray Kids Would Use to Describe Her: Rebellious, kind, and crazy

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

✬Statics✬

Visual: ★★★★★★★★☆☆ (8.5/10) Vocals: ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ (5.5/10) Rap: ★★★★★★★★★☆ (9/10) Dance:  ★★★★★★★★★★ (10/10) Choreographing: ★★★★★★★★★★ (10/10) Stage Presence: ★★★★★★★★★★ (10/10) Acting: ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ (4/10) Producing/Song Writing: ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ (6/10) Public Speaking: ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ (5.5/10) Other Variety: ★★★★★★★★☆☆ (8/10) Total: 76.5/100 Special Stat (Flexibility): ★★★★★★★★★★ (10/10) Special Stat (Video Gaming): ★★★★★★★★★★ (10/10)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

✬Career Information✬

Stage Name: Evie Agency(s): SM Entertainment (former trainee) JYP Entertainment (current) Training Period: 2010-2019  (almost 9 years) Group: Stray Kids Debut Date: 01-24-2019 Position(s): Dancer, Rapper, and Vocalist Individual Fandom: Lily Pads Representative Emoji/Animal: Koala 🐨 Unit: Dance Racha

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

✬Romance, Simplified✬

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Ideal Type: “Someone understanding and someone I can connect with. Someone who will love and care for me, but also someone who will call me out on my bullshit. I think that would be my ideal type.” Commenter: What about gender? Do you have a preference? Evie: As long as they love me that’s all that matters no? Gender doesn’t stop love! 

Relationship Status: Single

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

✬Trivia✬

Evie has two dogs named Aurora and Luna and a macaw named Comet.

Evie's sister is named Chloe (2001) and a brother named Hudson (1996)

Evie was originally on the show with the other members of Stray Kids but she got eliminated very early on and didn’t get a second chance as JYP didn’t think she was ready enough at the time. Evie mentioned on vLive how that made her feel like she would never be good enough to debut.

She has a serious case of RBF.

She enjoys being alone after a long day.

She is a masters overwatch 2 support player, she is also in diamond as DPS, and plat as tank.

She really enjoys playing games competitively.

She is very close with her older brother and his kids and calls him everyday for at least an hour.

She can come off as cold and intimidating when you first meet but she's actually just a massive softy.

She is allergic to shellfish and also has seasonal allergies.

She likes to assign people in her life with colors.

She has a group of idol friends that she talks to regularly and she doesn’t like making new friends unless she is with the other members of SKZ.

[zingaplanet]

hi new tennis fan here, do you mind explaining the 2011 fedal fallout? I tried looking around but couldn't find much. Thanks in advance!

Oh ho ho mutual, thanks for the question altho I fear this might get too complicated too political too quickly hahaha I'll try to keep my answer neutral. Tennis politics is an underworld of nasty nasty business and as much as it is fascinating, it is unfortunately very different from the clean, elegant, prestigious look the sport is presented as at front, as is expected when big prize money is on the line. This is going to be quite long, as usual, so be prepared hahaha

There's a good NYT article about this whole Nadal-Federer-Djokovic council debacle which I highly reccommend (around their 2019 return to the council), but let me provide a bit of a back story to that as well.

Now this all started back in the early 2010s, Federer and Nadal were still world number 1 and 2 (oh the good old days), and they were also the leaders at the players' council (Nadal was Federer's VP). So the gist of it by end of 2011, there was a bit of a dispute, esentially about prize money, but quickly turned into a bit of everything.

Basically, after the ATP finals of that year, there was talk of changing ATP into a 2 year ranking system. This is a bit unconventional but it's actually related to how points are accumulated throughout the whole tour and the accessibility of the sports to newcomers.

Everyone kinda knows that tennis is one of the most difficult sports to break into, not only because tournament seedings are based on rankings (unlike in football for instance where it's random), meaning top players will always have preference to go all the way to the final, but also because prize money has also been reported as highly unequal. Players at the top level like Serena, Federer, Sharapova, Nadal etc earned a gazillion times more than even the top 20 players, this is because of sponsorship, but also because of the gap in prize money. More reports have been coming out on this recently, where the top 5 players in India and other countries can't even sustain themselves with prize money alone and has to take up side jobs.

The idea is that with a 2 year ranking, points will be distributed more evenly, rankings will be much more accessible and players in the top 50 will have access to better prize money. It's a bit complicated to explain technically but that's the gist of it as far as I understand.

Now the problem starts when in November that year, the players meeting saw all players (including Nadal) except Federer, the president, support the 2 year system. They were also planning to boycott the Australian Open, that they deemed were far too unfair in terms of prize money distribution as all other Grand Slams.

The dispute between the two of them also has another layer into it however. Unsurprisignly, the ranking debate is related to discussions about scheduling, in which Nadal has been strongly advocating for change since the beginning of his career.

I managed to dig up some quotes on this, it's pretty nasty (hmu if you want sources):

“"For him, it's good to say nothing, (His attitude is) "Everything is positive. It's all well and good for me, I look like a gentleman,' and the rest can burn themselves. He likes the circuit. I like the circuit. It's better than many other sports, but that doesn't mean that it couldn't be better.”

Rafa and some other players are protesting about the number of mandatory events a pro player is required to compete in during the year, arguing this is not actually sustainable for an athlete's physical condition which he himself has felt the brunt too many times.

"I love the game and there are a lot of things I'm grateful for,” Nadal said. “The game has allowed me to lead a fantastic lifestyle. But to finish your career with pain all over your body, is that a positive? No. Maybe (Federer) has got a super body and he'll finish his career like a rose. Neither myself, nor (Andy) Murray, nor (Novak) Djokovic are going to finish our careers like a rose. Tennis is an important part of my life, but it's a tough sport. We're not like him, where it's effortless to play. For all of us, it's a battle."

I believe this is the period Federer was referring to when he said "He used to follow me around with everything but then he grew to be his own person," etc.

Federer and Nadal before this period were strangely civil towards each other, even after those French Open and Wimbledon finals back to back - but this seemed to be the beginning of their souring relations. Federer handled it very discretely and only said he had “no hard feelings” toward Nadal for the comments, and Nadal also later admitted that his comments “must stay in the locker room.”

I'm not saying one player is right and the other is wrong, there is always 2 sides of the coin. A 2 year ranking system will mess a lot of things up in terms of the sport's competitiveness and spectatorship, but there is also a real pay gap problem in tennis, especially in Grand Slams, it's a very top heavy sport. It's very evident that Nadal and Federer's frustrations with each other relate a lot to their different career trajectories and playing style. Nadal said many times from the beginning that his style of play is too physicaly disruptive and I remember him saying he'd be very surprised if he's still playing in his 30s and it's obvious that Federer's injury-free career bothered him a bit, while Federer, I think is always the perfect middle-man between the players and the tournament organisers (he has very good relationship with all of them), and he understood nuances of the sports' politics and that it's never that simple to change everything, something a lot of young players don't really get I think (Nadal is a bit more politically diplomatic nowadays).

The story of the 2019 council dispute is a bit more complicated, and it actually shows how much they've built bridges over their differences as this time it was more the case of Novak vs the two of them, quite literally haha. Nadal and Federer were no longer part of the council then. I think it started with the firing of the ATP chief executive, Chris Kermode (Djokovic was the president at that time I think). Nadal and Federer were very unhappy about this and that they weren't consulted on the decision.

Federer said: “I tried to meet Novak on the deadline; unfortunately, he had no time, That’s hard to understand for me.” Nadal, who met with Federer at that tournament to discuss tour business, also echoed his displeasure.

Very spicy, huh? This actually ended up bringing both Nadal and Federer back together into the council. Federer agreed to rejoin, and he talked about it with Nadal: "I would only do it if you were going too. And he said: I also only participate if you are there too."

See his cute full interview here:

The sweetest cherry on top is actually Andy Murray, bless his little heart (he is unsurprisingly quite uninvolved with the drama hahaha). He also left the council recently and actually was really happy Federer and Nadal the duo managed to get back together into the fray. “Despite the sport’s current success we live in chaotic times,” Murray wrote on Twitter. “My biggest achievement on the council may well prove to be being part of the group of resignations that presented the opportunity for this to happen. Good luck!!!”

Anyhow, there you go, a few thousand? words on tennis politics that you clearly did not ask for but hey! nothing better to start saturday morning than some spicy drama between the world's top athletes, eh?

[petutunias]

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