#i really really like the way it was filmed

[helenanell]

A Breath of Life || Challengers

Part Two

Pairing(s) : Reader x Patrick – Reader x Art – Reader x Tashi (sort of.) 

CW: MDNI - 18+ : smut, rough / manhandling. Infidelity. Angst. A lot of yearning. (They all want each other, badly.) Manipulative behaviour. Minor spoilers for the film.

Notes: Female Reader (AFAB Reader) - Absolutely no use of y/n, (because I despise it, sorry)

Wordcount: 9.7K

Summary: You met Tashi in your final year of high school and were more than happy to have lost a tennis match against her. Afterwards, the two of you become inseparable and you find yourself feeling for her in a way that you don’t quite understand.And then things get even more complicated when Patrick and Art burst into your lives. As the years pass, desire, love and hatred all get tangled together...and so do the four of you.

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The idea of meeting Tashi Duncan had been much more intimidating than the actual event itself. It was an odd thing, to idolise someone who was the exact same age as you—a girl not yet out of high school and still so chronically unsure of herself and the world—but it was impossible not to. 

You had watched every single match of hers that you could, staring for so long at the way she moved, that you were left with the afterimage of her burned into your eyes: She was in your thoughts constantly and always waiting behind your eyes when you closed them hoping for sleep. 

You were brilliant at tennis, you knew that you were. But Tashi played like it was the only way she could take oxygen into her lungs; each serve and shot an inhalation and exhalation. You understood, because you felt something similar.

For a long time, you had been ignored or dismissed in every aspect of your life, by everyone. But then you had found tennis, and you were really fucking great at it. 

 Tennis saved your life by making you undeniably tangible. Your existence could not be disputed when someone had to react to your movements, to receive something you had offered. 

It was no wonder then, that for as long a match lasted you were unhealthily obsessed with whoever it was that you were playing against. They made you real. 

But then you played Tashi. You had lost, of course, but it had been a close match, neither of you dominating for long before the other gained the upper hand once more. The gasps from the crowd had been the swelling of some great tide, breaking against your flesh and reinvigorating you like freezing water. 

Once it was over, you felt bereft of something vital. You felt as though you had slipped back into non-existence, only this time it was worse than ever, because your connection to Tashi Duncan was gone. 

But your body remembered. It ached and throbbed, rebelling at all you had put it through- no. All Tashi had put it through. You were desperate to feel it again. 

And your prayer was answered. 

She appeared before you like an angel.

Tashi jogged over to you as you gathered your things after the match, flushed and with beads of sweat glistening on her skin like crystals. And her eyes…they had been wide and dark and enrapturing. And then she had said the words that would change the trajectory of your life: 

“So, when can I play you again?”

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Ruah is the Hebrew word that means God’s spirit, but it is also breath or air and is widely understood to be God’s presence in the world. 

You couldn’t remember when you had learnt the word, but you knew that in the Bible, God had created Adam by breathing life into him. Which was why, when anyone joked about Tashi Duncan being some kind of deity, you could not dispute it, because that is what she had done to you. 

Tashi had breathed life into you.

 Her presence in your life has allowed you to come alive even off the court: you finally felt like a real person. Thanks to her, you knew that when you put your racket down, you did not simply disappear. 

Tashi saw you, on and off the court, and you loved her for it.

But, by the time you were both accepted into Stanford, over a year after you’d first met, you still wouldn’t let yourself delve into that love, and work out the ways in which you felt it. Not only because, you’d only ever been drawn to guys in any romantic or sexual way, but also because you felt undeserving of her.

 How pathetic would it be for you, who crawled at your best friend’s feet, to look up and whimper out words of desire to her?

 You were blessed to have her in your life, let alone to be as close with her as you were. Love was so many disparate things; you could love her as a friend, and hold that carnal aspect deep down. Just having her in your life was more than enough. She was enough.

Or so you thought. 

At the party celebrating Tashi, the two of you had not yet left each other’s side. You were dancing together, close enough that you could feel the ecstasy of victory buzzing beneath her skin as she held your hands and pulled you close. Her hair was silken and flowing down her back and as you were tangled up with her, it tickled against your own exposed skin. 

“They’re still staring.” You whisper into her ear, laughing as she answers by twirling you around and then pulling you back in. 

You practically fall into one another, having to steady yourself by placing your hands on her hips, the beaded fabric of her dark blue dress digging into the palms of your hands. 

“Good.” Tashi answers, wrapping her arms around your shoulders.

She turns you enough that with your chin resting on her shoulder, you are looking right at the two boys who had been gawking all night. One dark haired with confidence coming off him in waves, the other more reserved, a different kind of potency bubbling beneath the surface.

The blonde’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head, offering a delicate but untethering smile. 

“You’re going to have to talk to them.” You offer, still held in Tashi’s arms. “Otherwise they’re going to follow you around like lost puppies all night.”

You gasp and squirm away as your friend playfully pinches your side.

 “Do you really think they’re just looking at me?” Tashi questions incredulously.

You laugh at her shock. “Of course they are.” You say, gesturing up and down her form as she continues to sway to the music. 

“Oh my God!” Tashi exclaims, grabbing your hand and pulling you close again. “You’re such a fucking idiot! They’re looking at you, too!” 

You roll your eyes, but can’t help feeling a little buoyed at the prospect of being desired. “Yeah, right.”

Tashi shakes her head. “It’s a good thing you’re so oblivious, I like having you all to myself!”

Heat floods every part of you, acutely aware of the sweat trickling down the back of your neck, your skin uncomfortably warm. 

Only when the two of you have stopped dancing do they come over. 

Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig saunter needfully into your life and had you known then all that would ensue, you still would have welcomed their approach. 

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

The four of you had wandered down to the beach. 

Art and Patrick were sitting on deck chairs that sat side by side, their legs stretched out and their gazes lustful, both of them looking at Tashi who was perched on a rock opposite them. In that moment, the moon seemed made only for her, the silver light lining her form. 

You sit on the sand near her, your legs pulled up to your chest. The waves softly hit the beach behind you, lulling you into an even more incorporeal mindset. All that exists to you, is Tashi and the two boys who so clearly want her. 

Despite how desperately you want to engage in their conversation, you’re exhausted and distracted by the knowledge that your parents will already be looking for you. 

You’ve rested your chin on your knees, your eyes drooping shut, when a voice calls out to you. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

 Art is crouching beside you, his hand on your back, his knees sinking into the sand, shifting the surface beneath you. You jolt at the contact, scrambling to your feet as Tashi chuckles.

 Patrick’s gaze flits between you and Art and then over to your best friend, his cheeks dimpled with a smirk. 

“I’m fine.” You reassure with a shaky smile, brushing sand off the back of your dress. “I should go though, my parents will be waiting.” 

“You can’t leave!” Patrick protests playfully, placing a hand to his chest. “You’ll break my heart.”

You grin, spurred on by his own smile and shrug. “And why should I care about that?”

Patrick’s mouth drops open in feigned hurt as Art chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets and stepping away from you. 

You turn to Tashi, meaning to say goodbye, but she’s already up and hugging you. She often kisses your cheek as a form of goodbye, but this time she gets so close that her lips tease the corner of your mouth as hers make contact. You are electrified by it.

You know that she isn’t doing it for you, which is confirmed when she pulls away with her eyes flitting giddily between Art and Patrick who have both gone utterly still as they watched the display. 

 Despite the jealous ache that blooms, you play into it, because another part of you is excited at the thought of working the two boys up. You pull Tashi back into a hug, your hands resting dangerously low on her back as you squeeze her. She giggles into your ear. 

“You already have them wrapped around your little finger.” You say it quietly, but loud enough that you know the boys will hear. 

Over Tashi’s shoulder, you see Patrick smirk again and Art runs his thumb over his his bottom lip with a small smile on his face.

When you do finally pull away, Tashi smacks you on the ass. 

“It was great to meet to you!” Art shouts after you. 

“I miss you already!” Is Patrick’s shouted offering.

You just shake your head and continue on your path away from the beach.

Unbeknownst to you, three sets of eyes follow you until you’ve disappeared from view.

When you get home, you still feel the touch of Tashi all over you. But when your hand dips under the covers, something has changed. Because when you close your eyes, it’s not just Tashi you see. Instead, multiple people are fighting for dominance in your midnight fantasy:

You see Patrick’s licentious smirk.

You see Art’s coy smile. 

They’ve both invaded your mind, corrupted your thoughts that for a year had been so gloriously void of anything but Tashi.

And from that moment, you know part of you will always hate them. For so long, even knowing you can’t have her, all you’ve needed to sate yourself are thoughts of Tashi. But they’ve changed that.

You hate Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson because they’ve made you want more. You want….one of them. You don't know why and you also don’t know which one of them it is. 

But what is clear to you, is that a new itch has arisen within you, and it comes with panic, because unlike with Tashi, you’re certain there’s a possibility that one of them might actually want to scratch the itch for you.

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Had he known how furious you were going to be with him when you arrived, you doubted Art would have been so eager to invite you to have lunch with him in the cafeteria. 

Even when you slam your tray down and drop into the seat opposite him, he still looks happy to see you. He always did. It was infuriating.

“What are you playing at, Art?” You struggle to keep your volume down. You hadn’t wanted to yell at someone in a long time, but he had managed it.

Concern flashes in his eyes, but his lips press together in a way that tells you he knows exactly what you’re referring to. And yet he still asks:

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re fucking with Tashi’s head.”

“I would never do that.”

You scoff, stabbing the flimsy plastic fork into your salad. “Except you are, and I know that you’re doing it on purpose.”

Art pushes his own tray to the side and settles his elbow onto the table, resting his chin on his hand. “Yeah, how’d you figure?”

“Why else would you tell her that Patrick doesn’t love her?”

“Because I don’t think he does. Do you?”

You ignore his question, instead opting to pick up your apple and throw it at his head, hard. He catches it, that damnable little smile still on his face. 

“For fuck sake, Art!” You erupt. “She needs to keep her head on straight. Don’t upset her just because you want her for yourself!”

He tilts his head, blue eyes sparkling as he takes a large bite out of the apple. He chews for a bit before holding it back out to you, speaking through a mouthful:

 “You should have the rest of this, you haven’t been eating enough.”

“Fuck you!” You snatch it from his hand and shift in your seat, easily throwing it and landing it right in a nearby trashcan.

“Well that was a waste of perfectly good fruit.” Art licks some residue off his thumb and then leans across the table. 

You fail to snatch your wrist away before he grabs it. He’s gentle but firm, and as his thumb rubs along your pulse point, you feel the residual moisture from his own mouth he’d left behind, transferring to your skin.

“You don’t have to fight this hard to protect her,” Art presses. “She’s a grown woman.”

“She’s my best friend and I don’t want you to hurt her.” 

Art’s thumb stills, but he tugs your wrist a little closer. “Do you really think I could?” 

You scowl, pulling free of his hold. “You know, the way you and Patrick worship her isn’t the compliment that you both seem to think it is. You’re putting her up on a pedestal, practically deifying her, but she’s not invulnerable. She feels more strongly than anyone I’ve ever known and tennis is her life. If you get in her head and fuck up her game, It will break her and then I will break your fucking hands.”

This time when he’s smiles, it’s rife with fondness for you and it makes you want to punch him for the fluttering it causes in your stomach.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He says simply.

“What?”

“Do you think Patrick loves her?” Art repeats patiently. 

“Do you love her, Art?” 

“Can you please just answer my question?”

“I don’t know!” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not even sure I would know love if I saw it. All I do know, is that you both lust after her and definitely for each other too, even if you’ll never admit it. You’re all totally fucked.”

Art’s jaw clenches, the muscles ticking, but instead of irritation or anger at your outburst, his gaze softens. When he speaks, it is soft and achingly tender:

“You do know love. Because you love Tashi.” 

You let out an embittered laugh. “Of course I do. I tell her all the time.”

“But she doesn’t love you, not in the same way.”

You really didn’t know if he intended for that to sting, especially not with how gently he’d said it, but if he had, he’d failed. You came to accept that fact a long while ago, and while you would always want Tashi in some respect, it was not the all consuming desire it had been. The lust was gone. She was important to you. She was your best friend and you wanted to protect her. 

Unfortunately, the two men you wanted to protect her from, were the ones who had usurped her as objects of desire in your mind.

“Are you trying to find yourself a catchphrase before you go pro?” You sneer at Art. “I’m not sure how great that would look on a billboard for Adidas.”

“You deserve to be loved.” 

You had picked up your cup to take a drink of water, but upon hearing his words, you slam it down again and rise to your feet. He tracks your every move, as calm as ever.

 “I can’t talk to you right now, Art. You’re being cruel.”

You storm away from the table, only making it a few steps before you hear the scrape of his chair against the floor as he rushes to follow you.

 You’ve only just pushed open the door when he crowds up behind you. 

Art’s hand lands on your back as he guides you outside, his other hand rests on your arm and even after he turns you to face him, his touch remains.

 His hand is wrapped lightly around your arm, the other keeping you close- his palm pressed against your lower back. Anyone watching would think he was drawing you into an embrace. You almost shudder at the contact.

 Patrick has always been handsy, touching and caressing you under the guise of teasing, but Art has always moved around you as though you’ll disintegrate at the lightest touch. The way he’d held your wrist back in the dining hall and how he cradles you now, is the most he’s ever touched you.

 Your chest heaves as your flesh tingles.

Art’s head drops, his eyes on his own hand on your arm, as if he can’t understand why he’s holding you. His voice is strained:

“Patrick isn’t good for her.”

And just like that, you’re slammed mercilessly back down to earth. 

Art wasn’t touching you with tenderness or affection, you were just someone he was holding in place so that you had to hear him out. So you had to hear how much he wanted Tashi. 

“Oh, but I deserve to be thrown at him as a distraction so that you can have her?” You snap at him, more hurt than you’ll ever admit.

“You deserve whatever it is that you actually want.” 

Art sounds frustrated now, not at you…but perhaps at what he knows you won’t say. You do want Patrick. But you also want him. You had just never considered that he knew that.

But that’s not what you say. Instead you say–

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Do you want to know why he isn’t good for her?” Art presses, entirely unaffected by your fury.

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

The hand on your back pulls you a little closer, one errant blonde curl falls down from his forehead and brushes your temple. His breath is hot against your cheek. 

“Patrick’s not good for her-“ Art begins, his tone becoming embittered. “Because he wants you. He always has.” 

You rip free from Art’s grip with such force that the friction of it burns, his fingerprints leaving red marks on your arm. “You are unbelievable!” 

“I’m not lying. You know I wouldn’t, not to you.”

“You will say anything to have her won’t you?” You laugh nastily. “What’s the plan, Art? Do you think that I’ll try and seduce Patrick away from her now, leaving a space open for you to swoop in?” 

“Ask me how I know.”

“No.” You spit back at him. 

But you don’t move. 

Your body waits for words that your mind doesn’t think it can handle hearing. Something feels so close to breaking and you can’t help but feel like it’s to do with whatever force binds the four of you together. 

Art steps forward, closing the distance again, he raises his hands and rests them on either side of your neck, his thumbs pressing onto where your pulse is ratcheting beneath your fragile skin. 

“I know he wants you, because the night after he won our match- when he won Tashi’s number- he told me that I should fuck you.”

“Art.” You warn, frustrated tears bringing horrible pressure behind your eyes.

A small group comes out of the dining hall and have to split down the middle, because neither of you move a muscle. Art’s hold tightens, like he’s trying to leave a permanent imprint behind without it hurting you. 

He whispers now. “Patrick told me to fuck you. And I know him. He said that because when he couldn't have you, it excited him to think that I would. That I'd tell him about sleeping with you.”

“That was such a long time ago.” You say shakily, coming completely unmoored.

But Art won’t let it go.

“He still looks at you the same way, and that’s not fair to Tashi. You want to protect her, right? Well what will it do her when she finally notices the way her boyfriend is constantly eye-fucking her best friend?”

You hit out against his chest with a closed fist. The shock more than the force makes him stagger back. 

“You are so fucked in the head! You and Patrick are both pathetic little leeches who want the same girl, but can’t cope with the way it’s made them realise that they also want each other. You know what? I actually think so much would be solved, if you and Patrick just fucked each other!”

You start to back away and Art darts forward, trying to grab you again, but you smack his hand away and turn your back.

“Leave me alone, Art! And leave me out of your shit!”

He calls out your name with ragged desperation, but he does not follow. And even though he’s truly made your skin crawl, something about that makes you even more furious. 

Why won’t he follow you? 

Why do you still want him to?

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You hadn’t spoken to any of them since your argument with Art. 

You couldn’t cope with the realisation that if any of them ever did feel any desire for you, it was only because they saw you as some sort of vessel through which they could access parts of the person that they truly wanted.  

You couldn’t even be said to exist in Tashi’s shadow anymore, you had simply been subsumed by it. Those two men, who you both despised and wanted desperately, would never see you, not really. To them, you were just part of her. But you would not let them ruin your friendship with Tashi. You just wouldn’t.

You knew when you arrived to watch her match that something wasn’t right. She was upset. You could see it in all the minutiae of her: in the way she took off her hoodie, in the way she picked up her racket. Something was really wrong. 

You walk through the stands until you come across Art. 

There are two free spaces to the right of him, so you sit down on the one furthest away, leaving a gap in the middle for Patrick to take up when he arrives. But then time passes and the match approaches and he still hasn’t materialised. 

You feel Art staring long before he makes his move. The air shifts as he shuffles over into the seat directly beside you.

“That seat is taken.” You intone harshly. Your eyes are fixed on Tashi as she prepares. 

“If it was, I wouldn’t have been able to sit in it.” 

“Sorry, I should have been clearer. I don’t want you anywhere near me, so I want Patrick to sit there instead of you.”

Your name is a tentative as he speaks it. “Will you please look at me? I can’t handle you not looking at me.”

Your gaze remains set on Tashi, she looks up and finds you in the crowd. The furious divot between her brow eases for a moment before her eyes snag on the way that Art is leaning into you. She turns her back on the entire crowd, but you know the gesture is meant for you alone. 

Fuck. What the hell had happened overnight? If it was Art’s meddling, you’d kill him. 

“The match is about to start.” You say coldly. 

 Art’s hand lands on your knee, but when you flinch, he immediately pulls it away. 

“I know I hurt you and I’m sorry. I- I need you to forgive me.”

You grit your teeth at his audacity. “Why do you need me to, Art?”

“Because I can’t stand the thought of you not being in my li-“

The match begins and Art never gets to finish his sentence. 

In fact, you don’t speak to him properly for almost a decade after that. Because Tashi gets hurt. Her sporting career ends in the blink of an eye and takes your friendship with it.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Both you and Art had sprinted down onto the court, your heart breaking in your chest as you fell to your knees beside your best friend, tears gathering in her eyes as she whimpered in pain. 

What had hurt the most though, was the way Tashi had shoved your hand away when you had tried to comfort her.

“Don’t touch me!” She had barked on a ragged breath. “Get away from me. Get away!” 

The hatred had dripped from her words and landed on you like a corrosive liquid. And as it had burned down to the bone, you had looked at Art and the apologetic agony with which he’d regarded you—even as he’d cradled Tashi’s head in his hands—told you what he’d done.  

He’d not only told you about Patrick’s supposed lust for you, but he’d also told Tashi. He had told her that even after her now boyfriend had won her number, he’d apparently been thinking about fucking you. Art had also definitely shared his little insight that Patrick didn’t love her either, which you quickly worked out had contributed to his absence.

So Art got what he wanted: he finally had his hands on Tashi and he’d done it by carving you and Patrick away. 

Art Donaldson was an attentive, gentle, even needy man, but you had been so stupid to think that meant he couldn’t also be calculated and cruel. Because of course he was. What else could win the heart of Tashi Duncan but brutal passion? It was part of what she loved about tennis: the unforgiving force of hits that once you met them, somehow felt like affection.

When Patrick had tracked an injured Tashi down, still waiting to be taken to hospital, he had been ordered away by both her and Art.

You knew that because he’d just told you. It was the first thing he’d said to you when you’d let him into your room fifteen minutes earlier.

Now, you were both sitting on the scratchy carpet of your dorm, passing a bottle of vodka between the two of you. 

You felt bereft. Your body wracked with sympathetic pain for the grief in your mind. You’d lost Tashi today, you knew that. And the man that had caused it, was a man you’d spent years yearning for. 

Art hadn’t only taken Tashi from you, but he’d violently ripped himself away too.

“Art wasn’t lying.” Patrick grumbles after taking another hearty gulp of vodka. 

“Please, don’t.” You beg wearily, taking the vodka from his outstretched hand and pressing it to your lips. Not even the burn of the spirit going down your throat registers.

“I wanted- want, both of you. You and Tashi.” 

He isn’t drunk, only tipsy, but he’s getting there, and his words are sluggish, laced with fury. 

“Shut up, Patrick.”

You fall down onto your back, resting the vodka bottle on your stomach, holding it by the neck as you stare up at the ceiling. 

Patrick has been sitting opposite you, but he moves languidly forward, crawling up over your body. He braces one knee beside your hip as the other slots between your legs. 

You blink up at him as one of his hands rests beside your head and the other falls over your own where it still holds the vodka bottle. You let him take it from you, placing it beside your body before the hand then moves to rest on the other side of your head. 

You’re now trapped beneath him, his lithe body hovering just above yours.

When he leans in, his alcoholic breath almost sears your skin as his lips brushed the shell of your ear. 

“Sometimes, when we were fucking I would imagine that you were with us.” Patrick’s teeth nip at your ear. “I asked her once, you know, and she slapped me. Called me a pig. I think she was just mad because she liked having you to herself. You were such a devoted acolyte, kissing the ground she walked on—“

Fury bursts within you like a solar flare, red-hot and ruinous. He was talking about her in the past tense, as if she was dead to both of you already.

Art groans in pain when you knee him in the balls. You use the chance to shove him off you and he falls to the side, knocking the bottle of vodka over. 

As you stand up, you feel the alcohol seeping into the carpet at your feet. 

“You are a pig.” You hiss down at him.

 It’s your room, but you find yourself storming towards the door. 

You don’t get far before Patrick recovers, clambering to his feet and easily closing the distance with his long legs. 

You groan in frustration as he presses you into the door, one hand above your head and the other wrapping around your torso, his fingers dangerously close to brushing your breasts over your tank top. 

“If I’m a pig, why did you let me in?” He pressed his face into your neck and breathes you in.

 Some of the vodka has evidently soaked into his shirt, because the scent seizes you with the same violence with which he had. It’s a secondary intoxication. 

You words come out weakly, and you hate that it’s because you’re using so much energy fighting the urge to press back into him:

“I felt sorry for you.”

Patrick laughs. 

The smug bastard actually laughs right into your skin, the vibrations travelling all the way down to where your body has begun to ache the most. 

“Oh, sure.” He coos patronisingly. “It definitely wasn’t because you’ve wanted to fuck me for years.”

You should fight him, but you don’t want to. 

You should protest when the hand that he has pressed to the door moves to pull down one of the straps of your tank top. But you simply don’t want to.  You want him. 

Art had been right about both of you.

No sooner has the thin strip of fabric been removed from your shoulder, than Patrick is clamping his teeth down on the exposed flesh. You yelp in surprise, the pain a burst of sordid pleasure. 

Patrick laughs again, the hand he has pressed to your stomach pulling you flush against him. You can feel his need for you pressing into your backside, but in case you had somehow missed it, he bucks his hips up into you. 

You gasp and he laughs again, his tongue now running over the aggravated skin where his teeth have left a dent.

“We both know what this is.” He goads.

“And what is it?” You ask teasingly, your head now thrown back and resting against his chest. He groans into your neck as you grind yourself back onto him. 

“Inevitable.”

“Are you just doing this to get back at them?” You ask, not daring to speak their names. 

An angry grumble you can’t quite make sense of tears out of Patrick’s throat just before he is forcefully spinning you around. 

You get barely a glimpse of his feral smirk before he is easily picking you up again and throwing you over his shoulder. The slap he delivers to your ass is punishing and stings furiously as he practically throws you down onto the carpet.

The bed is right next to you, but the asshole apparently wants you on the scratchy carpet and with a wet patch where the vodka has soaked in.

“I’m doing this, because I have wanted to fuck you, from the moment I saw you dancing at that party.”

 You’ve barely got your breath back after being thrown about, when he is grabbing your calf and yanking you down so that you’re laying completely flat beneath him. 

“But you only ever pursued Tash-“ 

He cuts you off from saying her name by leaning down and pressing his mouth to your still clothed breast. His tongue swirls over the fabric, your nipple growing pert. 

When his knee presses up between your legs, parting them forcefully, your head falls back, strands of your hair wetted by the spilt alcohol. 

When Patrick bites down on your chest far too hard, your hand instinctively comes up to slap the side of his head.

 You’re so shocked by your own burst of violence that you go still at exactly the same time as Patrick, both of you breathing furiously. When he does peer up at you, his dark curls slick against his increasingly sweaty forehead, menace dances in his eyes. 

“Do that again.” 

You wish you could have feigned confusion or indignation for even a moment, but your blood is pumping to all the right places to urge you to make terrible, delightful decisions.

 Your second slap connects cleanly with his cheek, your palm tingling with the force as his head spins to the side. 

Your handprint is already a pink mark on his skin when he wraps his arms around your torso, lifting you up just enough so that he can pull your tank top off and throw it to the side. Your chest is left bare to him and he wastes no time before peppering kisses to your sternum, to your breasts and your neck, his arms still wrapped around you, his nails digging into your back. 

The throbbing ache between your legs becomes far too much to bear, so you curl your fingers into his hair and forcefully tug him away from your chest- a bead of saliva stretching between your flushed skin to his swollen lips. 

You lean your head forward, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting, pulling at it until he groans pathetically. You let him go, beyond pleased when you don’t have to tell him what you want next. 

You don’t want to wait any longer. You haven’t slept with anyone since you met him and Art. 

Art.

 Is it wrong that as Patrick pushes your back into the carpet and pulls down your sweatpants and underwear in one clean tug, that you close your eyes and briefly imagine that it’s Art instead?

You might have found an answer if you had more time, but when you open your eyes, Patrick is over you, his shorts and boxers already discarded alongside your clothes. His shirt is still on, but neither of you have the patience for the second or so it would take to get it off him. 

Patrick smirks down at you before pressing two of his fingers into your mouth, you open gladly, your eyes locked onto each other as he swirls them around. When he’s satisfied, he pulls his fingers out, and then licks his own hand, mixing himself with you. 

He swipes his wet hand over your already slick core a few times before he’s pressing himself inside of you. Your arms curl around his neck as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Fuck.” He groans, his tongue licking up the side of your neck as his hips begin to move. 

“Patrick.” You plead, your fingers digging into the nape of his neck. 

He knows what you want, nipping at your neck before he is driving into you with bruising force. 

In that moment, as you’re joined in the way you’ve wanted since the moment you’ve set eyes on him, you realise thar Tashi isn’t the only person that can make you feel real. 

As Patrick drives into you–his lips and teeth leaving marks on your flesh that will be wine-dark by morning, and the horrible fabric beneath you leaving carpet burn on your back– you finally know more than tennis can make you feel alive. 

The sex is forceful and punishing, but fuelled by a genuine passion. Nothing but your intermingled breaths and the sound of your joined bodies fills the room. 

If the two of you hadn’t been so lost to your pleasure, you might have heard Art knocking on your door. But you didn’t. 

He did however hear the two of you, so he walked away. 

You wouldn’t speak to him or Tashi again for over ten years.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You weren’t in New Rochelle to compete. You didn’t need to. You were on the top of your game, ranked the third best female player in the world. 

No, you were in New York because despite your better judgement-- and the many years that had passed since you’d last seen him--when Patrick Zweig had called you, you’d answered. 

You hadn’t heard his voice since you had told him that for your own sanity, you couldn’t see him anymore.

For the two years you had been together after Tashi had banished you both from her life, you had let Patrick consume you. And you had never played tennis so poorly in your life. 

You hated what that said about you, that you had willingly discarded someone you had genuinely cared for to improve your ability to hit a ball. But hitting that ball was what kept you alive, not him. 

Not only that, it hadn’t taken you long to realise that you didn’t love Patrick enough to let him affect your career.

And yet when he had called, you’d answered. And when he’d told you that Art Donaldson had entered the Challenger as a wildcard, you both knew that you would come. 

From the moment you had booked the flight, to the first step you’d taken into the hotel, you had lied to yourself that you were only coming for the closure that you hadn’t received as a twenty year old. 

But when you stepped into the hotel lobby and saw Tashi disappearing into the nearby elevator, your self-deception shattered. 

You were here because still, after all the time that had passed, you ached for the way that you had felt when she had been in your life. You missed her. And you had missed Art. 

It was a sickening truth of your life, that while no one had fucked with your head or upset you as much as Art had ended up doing, no one else had ever been so attentive to you either. 

Art had watched you—watched out for you—even when you weren’t playing tennis. In fact, in moments of utter stillness, when you had been doing nothing even remotely remarkable, was when you had always caught him staring. He never shied away, or broke his gaze when he was caught, he’d just smiled as if he wanted you to know he would never feel shame for being found looking at you. 

And that had not changed.

You have been sitting at the hotel bar for ten minutes, feeling sorry for yourself and nursing the same glass of gin and tonic, when you feel someone looking at you. 

You turn your head cautiously, your shoulders sagging as your eyes meet Art’s. He’s sitting on one of the small leather couches tucked into the far corner of the darkened room. 

It had been an inevitability, but things would have been so much easier if you never came across him. 

You know you shouldn’t move- part of you had come for closure and you could get that just by watching him compete tomorrow, so you don’t need to talk to him. 

But then Art tilts his head and smiles at you like no time has passed and pats his hand on the unoccupied space beside him on the couch. 

You get down off the barstool.

 As you approach, he watches unflinchingly.

The last time you had heard Art’s voice, was when Tashi had suffered her injury and he’d been permitted to stay by her side when she had ordered you away.

And yet even after so much time, when he greets you with a quiet ‘hello’, the pathetic girl who had pined after him returns.

You don’t respond as you come to a stop right in front of him, the tips of your heels right against the toes of his shoes, but you make no move to sit down. 

It’s of course not the first time you’ve seen him since college, or been at the same event, or even in the same room- you’re both highly successful tennis players, you couldn’t help but overlap sometimes. But neither of you have ever allowed yourselves to get close, or to even speak. 

It has been over ten years of your eyes connecting through crowds and across rooms that felt much larger than they were, simply because there was distance between the two of you within them. 

Art sits forward, his forearms resting on his knees. He’s fiddling with his wedding ring and you can’t bear to look at the familiar way his fingers carry out the gesture. 

When he looks up at you, it's so open and wanting that you almost turn right back around. But then you hear his voice again.

“Can I ask you to sit with me?” 

“I don’t know Art, can you?” 

He smiles, sighing softly as he runs his hand through his hair. It’s short- much shorter than the curls he’d had at college. You like it. It suits him. 

You shift on your feet, crossing your arms across your chest to cover up your nerves. Perhaps you can protect yourself if you look like you’re closed off from him and from…whatever this interaction is about to be. 

Art doesn’t say anything else, but he surprises you by rising to his feet. You stagger back, but his hand reaches out and lands on your side to steady.

His touch lingers for a moment too long, but he does eventually pull it away.

 But he’s still close, too close.

Your hands have fallen to your sides, so it is too easy for Art to reach out and brush his fingers against yours. He doesn’t intertwine them, but he’s doing enough to let you know that it’s what he wants to do. 

He whispers your name. “Will you please sit with me?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Art.” 

“When have you ever known me to have one of those?” 

You smile ruefully, but take a step back. His hand chases you, his fingers brushing against yours again as he tries to take your hand. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve known anything about you.” You say, hating how sad it sounds. 

You should be angry at least. His meddling and his desire for Tashi is what ripped you all apart. And he has her now. They have a daughter together.

He doesn't get to ask you for anything, not even if it’s just to sit with him. 

You can’t trust yourself to sit next to him. 

“You do know me. Time can’t change that.” He insists, quietly but firmly. 

You scoff nastily. “I knew Art Donaldson when he was in college. The world famous tennis player who does AD campaigns for sports cars with his wife, is a stranger to me.” 

“Yeah.” Art laughs darkly. “He’s a stranger to me too.” 

You frown at him, growing angry. He seems exhausted and down-trodden. He’s clearly hurting and you hate that you know that—you hate that you‘d been able to tell that even from across the bar—because it means that he’s right: you do still know him. 

“It’s late, Art. You should get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

You turn away from him and while he doesn’t reach for you this time, he does call out. You keep you back to him as he asks his question. 

“Who do you want to win, me or Patrick?” 

“Tennis can’t decide a victor between the two of you, Art. It’s never been able to.”

When you walk to the elevator, you feel a physical strain as you stop yourself from looking back at him.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You were right, tennis couldn’t decide on a winner: it was as fickle and incomprehensible as the human heart. Which was fitting, seeing as Tashi had always described tennis as a relationship. 

You had sat only two places away from her during Patrick and Art’s match, and you know she had seen you. But there had been no reaction, her face had been impassive and set on the court, her eyes hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses. 

Now, the match was long over and a result had been given. And yet there hadn’t been a victory for anyone. Just like you knew there wouldn’t be.

Something had happened on that court between the two men, some silent, inexplicable exchange that had altered the very fabric of them.

This time, when Art knocks on your door, not only do you hear it, but you answer. 

You feel almost shocked when you pull open the door to reveal him, dressed in a grey t-shirt and flannel pyjama trousers. You’re surprised at the sight as if you hadn’t known he was coming- as if you hadn’t readily offered up your room number when he had messaged and asked for it.

You’re also somehow certain that Patrick had given him your number, but you didn’t want to dwell on what sort of exchange had led to him handing it over.

Without a word, you step away from the door, self-consciously tightening the cord that holds the silk robe around your body. You stop and face the windows.

The curtains are drawn, by you stare forward as though the whole skyline is on display to you. 

The door to your room clicks shut.

You hear Art take off his shoes before his feet are padding towards you. 

When his arms wrap around your waist, you close your eyes and savour the sensation. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, so you lift a hand and rest it on the side of his head. 

“I want to retire at the end of this year.” He says and you can feel his exhaustion in the slow breaths that coast over your neck. 

“So retire.” You answer softly, your eyes still on the curtains. “You’re tired.”

You know you don’t need to clarify. Thanks to the grateful press of his lips against your neck, you know he understands what you mean. 

Art is weary of all that he has to be when he’s playing tennis; he’s tired of the effort it takes to play the sport for not just him, but for Tashi too. His wife has been living vicariously through him. He’s been living for two people, taking the strain of two professional athletes combined. 

You know there had never been any point in competing with Art or Patrick, because Tashi would always love tennis the most. 

A shiver wracks your body as Art’s hand reaches for the bow that’s keeping your otherwise bare body concealed from him.

 “Can I?” His request is whined into your hair as he presses his face into the back of your head. 

Instead of answering verbally, you nudge his hand away and untie the robe yourself. Then, you take hold of both of his wrists and guide his hands onto your skin. You let out a sigh of relief when Art finally touches you the way you want him to. 

Your hands are still on him as his fingers move to cup your breasts, but he is the one guiding his movements now. He squeezes, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. 

“Art.” You rasp, pressing back into him wantonly. 

“Can I have you?” He asks, pressing open mouthed, hot kisses to your neck as he palms your breasts. “Please, let me have you.” 

“Stop fucking asking me and just do it.” 

You feel him grin against your neck just before he backs away, pulling back your robe and tugging it from your body.

The fabric has barely had time to pool at your feet when he’s grabbing you by the hips, his fingers digging in as he turns you. 

When Art’s lips finally claim yours, you moan unashamedly. His kiss is gentle but assured, you struggle for breath as he refuses to release you. Then, his hands are cupping your ass and he’s lifting you up. 

With his lips still moving hungrily against yours, Art settles you onto the edge of the bed. When he draws back, your lips chase after him and he smiles, grasping your face in his hands and giving you one more brief but searing kiss before he’s dropping to the ground.

 His hands press into your knees, forcing them apart as he begins to kiss and lick up your inner thighs. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching where his mouth ravenously meets your flesh, tracing his path as he works his way closer to where you want him most.

When he reaches the top of your thigh, Art peers up at you through his long eyelashes, already looking drunk on you as he presses another kiss to your burning skin. 

“Lay back.” He instructs gently. 

But you’re too transfixed to listen- too desperate to see the moment his lips land on your core to look away.

He smiles at the realisation, delighting in your shudder as his tongue darts out and licks a line up your centre. 

“Oh my- fuck!” Your head falls back, already lost in the feeling of his mouth's devoted ministrations. 

As Art pleasures you, one of his hands skates up your stomach and gently presses down, asking rather than forcing you to lay back. This time you oblige, your eyes closed as your hands fist in the sheets. 

“You deserve so much more than I can give you.” 

You smile to yourself. Only Art could grovel as he gives so much pleasure.

Tightness begins to coil in your lower belly, but the moment he adds a teasing finger to his tongue’s movements, you realise you can’t wait. 

“Art- stop.” You gasp out, sitting up and resting your hands on his head. 

He halts immediately but doesn’t remove himself from between your legs. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, his hands rubbing soothingly along your thighs. 

“It’s not enough.” You say, tugging on his hair, trying to get him to come to you. “I need you.” 

Art doesn’t have to be asked twice, but he also doesn’t rush. He presses one last kiss to your now very sensitive folds before he’s climbing over you. 

You shuffle back, settling yourself onto the middle of the bed and even as Art takes off his clothes, he watches you. It’s as if he’s afraid that you’ll disappear if he so much as blinks. 

Now completely naked, he lays himself over you, his arms braced beside your head. He positions himself so carefully thar it’s almost as though he’s trying to fit himself to the shape of you- every divot and curve perfectly aligned sp that you’ll be fused together forever. 

As Art sweeps hair out from your face, his blue eyes bore down into you with an adoring intensity. 

You smile up at him and he rewards you by cradling your face in his hands, he lowers his head, his nose brushing yours as he gently takes your lower lip between his teeth.

Only when you understand what he wants and you open your mouth, does he kiss you again, his tongue delving in deeply.

As he seeks to consume you, your hands run down his back, squeezing his sides with your thighs. 

Art’s still kissing you as one of your hands reaches the curve of his arse, you dig your nails in and he jolts, his mouth moving away from yours and travelling down your neck. 

Tentatively, you move one hand around and down between his legs and when your hand wraps around him, he falters, his kisses stopping. 

“Is this alright?” 

Art moves again, licking the sweat slick expanse of skin between your breasts.

“Anything you do will be alright.” He assures, his lips brushing a nipple and making your back arch. 

“Do you want to have sex, Art?” You ask, barely restraining yourself.

His breaths are hot against your sensitive breasts when he answers. “Please.”

It is a joint effort as he slides inside of you. You gasp, arms wrapping around his neck as he presses kisses into yours.

Art groans as he begins to move achingly slowly, his hips rolling over yours with precision. 

You're happy like that for a few minutes, both of you revelling in your closeness after years subjected to absent desire for one another. But eventually, you want more.

You yearn for more force and luckily as you buck up into him, Art gets the message.

 As one of his hands moves behind your head, cradling it so that he can keep kissing you, the other wraps around your thigh, and pulls your leg higher over his hip, allowing himself to get even deeper. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He says in-between sloppy kisses, moving rapidly as you moan and whine. “You’ve always been so beautiful.”

Even with him inside you, making you feel more desired than anyone ever has, your mind drifts to that first night you had met him. The first night you had met Patrick. 

“You stared at Tashi.” You say.

You aren’t accusatory or upset, if anything the acknowledgement if it turns you on more. All four of you have always had a desire for the other, and it feels powerful to finally acknowledge it.

“-That night on the beach, you couldn't take your eyes off her. Neither of you could.” 

“I wanted you.” Art asserts with a particularly powerful thrust. “I- I wanted you so badly, but you went home.”

You nod, pulling him in for another kiss as you meet his thrusts. 

You understand his thinking. You’d often wondered how things might have changed had you not gone home early that night. If you’d stayed on the beach and then gone to their hotel room along with Tashi. 

Entirely content with just moving as one, you both fall silent and somehow Art curls over you even more tightly, like he wants his whole body to hide yours from the world. 

After you’ve both found your release he takes you into the shower and cleans himself off of your sensitive skin, each swipe of the washcloth accompanied by a kiss.

It ends up being time wasted though, because when you return to the bed, he takes you twice more.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You wake up with Art’s head resting on your bare chest. He’s laying on his side, one arm stretched out on the pillow above your head and his other hand resting on your hip. 

You’re sore in the most pleasant of ways as you sit up. You try to move slowly but Art stirs anyway, his head turning to press open mouthed kisses to your sternum. 

You rest your hand on his cheek, meaning to guide him away, but he moves so that he can kiss the palm of your hand instead. 

It’s only when you sigh into his touch, his eyes still closed as his other hand delves between your legs, that you realise why you had woken up int he first place. 

Someone was knocking on your door. 

And then you hear her voice. 

Tashi is calling out your name, sounding almost panicked.

 “Please, open the door, I know you’re in there.”

This time when you push Patrick away, he obliges, but far less quickly than you would have liked.

 In the time it takes for you to throw on your silk robe and gather up all of his clothes from the floor, he has barely got himself to stand up. He’s naked and blinking sleepily at you. 

When you shove the bundle of his clothes into his arms, he rushes to press a passionate kiss to your lips, holding the back of your head with his free hand.

You aren’t sure you want to know whether he’s truly still half asleep and genuinely hasn’t realised what is happening, or if he just doesn’t care that his wife is outside the door.

Flushed but furious at his casual demeanour, you push Art into the bathroom and close the door, just as Tashi knocks again.

 The repeated request for you to come to the door tumbles from her lips like a prayer.

You brace your hand against the door as you draw in a fortifying breath and smooth out your hair. You swear you can feel her through the door. 

The moment you open the door, Tashi is bursting in and closing it behind her. You step back, waiting for her to make the first move, for her to shout of attack or go charging into the bathroom. But she does none of those things. 

Instead, Tashi pulls you into a crushing hug. You go still, shocked but healed by it at the same time.

She pulls back, taking your face in her hands.

 “You’re a phenomenal tennis player.” Tashi says it rapturously. 

If you weren’t burning up at the feel of her hands on you, you might have laughed at how ridiculously perfect it was that those were her first words to you after over a decade. 

Tashi communicated and connected through tennis. She loved through tennis.

All you can muster is a very sincere: “Thank you.”

Tashi brushes your hair out of your face, tucking a stray piece behind your ear. You find your hands lifting, resting atop hers where they hold your cheeks.

“You need to let me coach you.” Tashi demands almost possessively.

“I have a coach.”

“They’re not me.”

“No, they’re not.”

And just like that, you were snared again. 

You had gone years without any of them, and with one word, you had allowed all three of them back into your life.

 Only this time, you know it might actually kill you if any of them leave. And perhaps it would kill them too. 

Only time would tell.

[dante-mightdie]

perv!simon who gets hard when you do the most everyday mundane things. running your nails down his arm when you laugh? licking your fingers after eating? exposing your neck and letting your perfume waft around him? stretching your tired muscles? he's leaking cum, he's heavily breathing, his joggers dampen and tent. he's desperately in need of you, pathetically humping you or placing your hand all over his body, he just needs you and your attention on only him right now

god I love this fucking loser so much I just wanna be so so mean to him :(

c/w: meandom!reader, sub!simon, handjobs, humiliation, degradation

he’s just a needy mutt and that’s all there really is to it. he’s always gotten by on scraps, quick meaningless hookups with people he never planned on seeing again. but now he has you! pretty you that he loves so much and you actually let this pathetic loser hang around you

your friends fucking hate him, telling you that there’s something in his eyes not quite right but you aren’t worried. you know he’s strange but he’s just pent up. jerk his cock for him and he’ll be right as rain :)

you told him he has to work his way up to fucking you, has to show you that he deserves it and that he really really wants it. cue him panting in your ear, his hand stroking his cock hard and fast whilst he begs for something more. telling you that he’ll do anything for you, that he’ll kill for you and no one else loves you as much as he does :(

“you don’t even last 5 minutes in my hand, si si. what makes you think i’m gonna let you have my pussy too, huh? you’re so dumb sometimes, baby. you have nothing else to think with other than your big cock, isn’t that right?” you’d coo in his ear, slapping his hand away and replacing it with your own

the whine he lets out is embarrassing, part of you wants to film him and send it around to his recruits who think he’s so tough and scary. but the bigger part is aware that this sight is something to be treasured. that he must really love you to let you see him like this

he’s panting against your neck, licking at your perfumed skin like a dog in heat. his hips are bucking up to meet your hand and it only takes a few strokes for him to blow his load everywhere, landing on his black shirt and staining it

“look at you…” you coo, “such a sad little perv, si.”

[sunkissed-zegras]

headcannons of you being a media girl for the team and KK constantly annoying you and pulling you with her to make tiktoks

you cannot tell me that kk wouldn’t be all up in that camera

“welcome to the kk arnold show-“

“ KK GIMME MY DAMN CAMERA!”

𝐔𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍 𝐖𝐁𝐁 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑!𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

─ warnings | nothing but light banter, pretty much nothing else?

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

─ ev's notes | so instead of like media girl hc's, i'm gonna do manager, it's basically the same thing except manager kinda does everything, it's not limited to photos and social media. it's BASICALLY the same just more of an umbrella term LOL, i hope y'all enjoyed!

you've been the manager for the women's bb team since freshman year and let's just say it's SO chaotic but very rewarding

and yes, you're so right

kk would force you to be in the videos and you're all like force smiling, looking like you're being held hostage

everyone in the comments are SCREECHING cus your answers are always so hilarious and they all love you

"who has the best music taste on the team OTHER THAN YOU?" "other than me?????" "yeah.." "no one, i have the best one"

but people love you sm

i feel like they'd make compilations of you interacting with the team (in specifically the tiktoks bc they're funny af)

eventually people coin the term... "y/n and her toddlers"

you're like the mom of the team (obviously cus ur the manager) but like in more ways than just one

like the freshman first start to open up to you, every comes to you for advice, etc etc

they all just ADORE you

cus who wouldn't?

since you're in charge of the social medias, you FEED the paige bueckers girlies

you take so many pictures of our girl and everyone on tiktok loves u for it

on the buses to games, oh god bless u

especially the really long car rides, everyone will do anything but sleep when the only thing you're tryna do is sleep

LIKE EVERYTHING, they will bring cases of redbull bc they swearrrrr it's team bonding

(they just wanna shit talk everyone they know)

they drag you into everything, especially like if two (or multiple) of the girls are having problems bc you usually know how to deal with them

they adore you yes, but they also fear the fuck outta you

so you make them sit down and talk it out (with you + any seniors at the time to make sure they actually do) then BOOM it's fixed

again, you're like their mom

here's a little snippet of what it's like being their manager 😗

──

"Hey y'all, welcome back to the KK Arnold show! Today we're gonna go interview the mysterious Y/N," KK shouted as she looked at the camera with a smile, beginning to walk to the sidelines of the empty court. She gestured to keep walking until they eventually reach you.

You looked up to meet the camera with a confused smile as you setup your camera. KK couldn't help but let out a laugh, causing you to shake your head in amusement.

"Everyone wanted to have an interview with you, how do you feel about that?" KK finally got out after she stopped laughing, unable to maintain a straight face at your confused expression.

You laughed softly, adjusting the camera before responding, "Uh... well you know, it's part of the job."

KK shook her head dramatically as the camera zooms in on her face, "She hates you guys, Y/N is a D1 hater-"

"No, oh my god shut up!" You laughed as KK gave you a mock glare. "I love you guys."

"How do you feel about the edits?" KK held in her laugh as she glanced back at you then the camera, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Of... Paige?"

KK shook her head, "No, of you."

"There are edits of me?" You couldn't but laugh as you shook your head, taking a seat on the bench as you finished up setting up your film camera.

"Yeah, the people are going feral." KK smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Oh don't act like you haven't seen them, we send them to you on the groupchat."

You glared at KK before she bursted out laughing, putting up her hands in surrender. "Bro, leave me alone."

"No, you signed up for this when you became manager." KK joked as you held in your laugh with a thin-lipped scowl, pretending to be annoyed.

Before you could respond, Paige and Nika walked out to the court and KK waved them over. "Guys, Y/N's being a hater again."

"Aw, be nice to the freshman, Y/N." Paige joked as she joined you on the bench. KK sent her a glare as you and Paige laughed, Nika joining you two on the bench with a grin.

You shot KK a playful glare, though the corners of your lips couldn't help but twitch upwards. " Yeah, freshman privileges only go so far, KK. Don't push your luck."

"Bro," KK sighed exasperatedly as all three of you laughing. "Anyways back to the interview, how do you feel about the Paige edits?"

You and Paige glanced at each other before Paige began laughing. "Actually, as an veteran-edit watcher, they're really good. I don't know about the audios though, they're not very cordial."

"Oh my god, Y/N watched the KK Arnold show confirmed?" KK gasped as laughed loudly, joined by Nika and Paige.

"Bro, I recorded that video."

KK's smile dropped as she dramatically side eyed the camera and gestured toward her neck. "Cut the cameras, cut the damn cameras."

The camera didn't cut, it zoomed on all three of you laughing loudly. KK tried to maintain a serious expression before she sighed dramatically, "the haters are gonna keep hating."

"Facebook ass quote," Paige mumbled as you began laughing even harder, feeling your stomach beginning to hurt as tears began to build in your eyes.

"Oh you really wanna play with me right now," KK joked as she stormed toward you and Paige as the camera cut dramatically.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Greta Garbo (Camille, Anna Karenina, Queen Christina)—Enigmatic and alluring and made me bisexual. The perfect example of the eroticism in silent films that literally transcends text. Could literally not change anything about her expression but you knew by looking at her eyes what she was thinking. She’s so gorgeous.

Audrey Hepburn (My Fair Lady, Sabrina, Roman Holiday)—Growing up, Audrey Hepburn desperately wanting to be a professional ballerina, but she was starved during WWII and couldn't pursue her dream due to the effects of malnourishment. After she was cast in Roman Holiday, she skyrocketed to fame, and appeared in classics like My Fair Lady and Breakfast at Tiffany's. She's gorgeous, and mixes humor and class in all of her performances. After the majority of her acting career came to close, she became a UNICEF ambassador.

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Garbo:

A cold-ass Swedish WLW Sphinx. Had plans to murder Hitler that she never got around to. "She will remain always a child of vikings, moved about by a snowy dream."

First of all, she's on the money; that's how much of a treasure she is. She's beautiful in such a distinct way you need very few lines to draw her. (Drawing by Einar Nerman) She managed to be mesmerizing in both silent and sound films. She kissed a woman in Queen Christina (and probably several more in real life). She was super dry and really funny in Ninotchka. She got the hell out of Hollywood and stayed out, living for almost 50 years after her retirement.

Garbo is one of the many reasons why I'm gay. If you haven't seen Queen Christina please do, She is so gender in that film. Also her accent makes it sound like she's always talking in cursive and it's so hypnotic (or at least I think so).

She's a gay introvert, like all of us here on Tumblr.

Probably a lesbian, absolutely a mood when she retired

Mysterious and aloof, charismatic and enigmatic, with beautiful androgynous characteristics, Garbo is undoubtedly the most eccentric and unique Hollywood vintage star. Her aversion to fame and stardom makes her even more desirable to the audience, and her insane chemistry with the camera, an actress one of a kind! Her particularity and her oddity is what discerns her strongly from her hollywood co workers at the time, noone was like her and would never be like her. I think, to the utmost extent, that she deserves the title of the hottest vintage star, even though that would be an understatement of what she is!

SO gorgeous, her thick Swedish accent makes will turn your brain into pudding

Audrey Hepburn:

"She may be a wispy, thin little thing, but when you see that girl, you know you're really in the presence of something. In that league there's only ever been Garbo, and the other Hepburn, and maybe Bergman. It's a rare quality, but boy, do you know when you've found it." - Billy Wilder

Raised money for the resistance in nazi occupied Hungary. Became a humanitarian after retiring. Two very sexy things to do!

where to begin......... i wont her so bad. i literally dont know what to say.

My dude. The big doe eyes, the cheekbones, the voice. The flawless way she carried herself. She was never in a movie where she wasn't drop dead gorgeous. Oh, also the fact she raised funds against the Nazis doing BALLET and she won the Presidential Medal of Freedom for her humanitarian work.

"It’s as if she dropped out of the sky into the ’50s, half wood-nymph, half princess, and then disappeared in her golden coach, wearing her glass slippers and leaving no footprints." - Molly Haskell

"All I want for Christmas is to make another movie with Audrey Hepburn." - Cary Grant

I know people nowadays are probably sick of seeing her with all the beauty and fashion merch around that depicts her and/or Marilyn Monroe but she is considered a classic Hollywood beauty for a reason. Ironically in her day she was more of the alternative beauty when compared to many of her contemporaries. She always came off with such elegance and grace, and she was so charming. Apparently she was a delight to work with considering how many of her co-stars had wonderful things to say about her. Outside of her beauty and acting ability she was immensely kind. She helped raise funds for the Dutch resistance during WWII by putting on underground dance performances as well as volunteering at hospitals and other small things to help the resistance. During her Hollywood career and later years she worked with UNICEF a lot. Just an all around beautiful person both inside and out.

No one could wear clothes in this era like she could. She was every major designer's favorite star and as such her films are time capsules of high fashion at the time. But beyond that, she had such an elegance in her screen presence that belied a broad range of ability. From a naive princess, to a confused widow, to a loving and mischievous daughter, she could play it all.

Look at that woman's neck. Don't you want to bite it?

[yappersblog]

adore you — emily engstler [requested]

request. “the cameras at emily's game are always panning towards you be ur in complete awe of her and everyone loves it : and theres a moment where its halftime and its a cute segment of you and emily being cute n kissing 🥹”

tag-list. @euphternal

synopsis. every moments of emily’s matches are important—but the most loved ones are definitely the ones with you in it.

author’s note. loooove this! i’m still working on the other requests, don’t worry, i’m just posting the ones that i’ve already done. i don’t know if it’s good, i’m quite skeptical about ut but i tried my best. hope you’ll like this 💖

help. schatz means treasure in german.

more fics. my head-cannons about emily having a girly gf. go take a look 💋

“oh god, wait for me please!” you practically shout, trying to make your voice perceptible among the screaming crowds.

“take my hand” emily’s sister screams to you, grabbing your hand in hers and leading you through the basket-ball court—whose filled with people, coaches and cameras ready to record.

while searching for your seats, you can’t help but smile a little when you see more than half of the stands being full of fans—all of them wearing their favorite team’s jersey, some even waving their hand-made board in the air; trying to get one of the players’ attention.

you didn’t expect today’s match to be this full, but you’re not the one complaining—being genuinely happy to witness the fans’ interest increasing for your girl’s team.

the louisville team’s girls work really hard every single day. so, watching them getting the recognition they deserve can’t do anything but warm your heart.

looking around you, you feel the hand of em’s sister tightening around yours; the big-ass crowds scaring you two a little bit—even though you got used to it, it still feels a little bit scary to be surrounded by hundreds of people who don’t really care about pushing you down the floor, or even squashing you and not apologising for it.

“right here!” it’s your turn to lead danielle to your seats, once you finally find them.

climbing up the little stairs, you smile to the few fans that recognise you—even ask some of them how they are doing—and finally take place on your assigned chair, danielle sitting next to you.

“it’s so full today, what even happened?” she says, taking her phone out of her pocket to send her little sister a message—letting the latter know that the two of you are still alive.

“don’t know. it’s cool though, maybe they’ll stop sleeping on emily” you shrug, the blonde laughing at your pouting face.

everyone knows that you’re emily’s number one fan.

firstly because it is your girlfriend duties to be supportive, but also because the cameramen always find a way to sneak footage of you cheering loudly on your girl—ass off your chair, mouth wide open and all.

at first, it was only little sequences of you encouraging em and the team.

but at some point, those little sequences became longer ones—ones where we can see you getting from a cheering state, to a love-sick one; heart-eyeing your girl each time she was in your radar (which means every time since you’re obsessed with her).

the fans found your behaviour endearing.

but what they found even more endearing, were all the half-times when you couldn’t help yourself but run down those stairs and join emily’s awaiting arms—snatching some coo’s out the crowds.

slowly, your whole persona started to attract attention.

everyone loved how much care and support you gave to your girlfriend. you always let her know that she’s doing so well, ramble about how she’s a brilliant player full of talent and that her hard-work will always pay off.

and they adored the way you didn’t care about the cameras—still ready to get up from your seat to shout loudly if it was needed.

the cameramen kind of understood the people’s attraction; and finding your reactions interesting enough to be filmed, they couldn’t help but start feeding it—cameras following your every little moves when you were seen at a game.

it doesn’t really bother you; you might not even notice it, too caught up in the game to do so—only realising that you’re being filmed when danielle’s elbow hit your side, or when the little laughs around you get a little bit louder.

since then, the photographs’ pastime always turns out to be recording your slightest reactions.

“oh gosh, they’re already on your ass” you hear danielle chuckles on your right, the palm of her hand hiding her smiling lips. “how does it feel to be a superstar?” she asks right away, amused by this whole situation.

“dumb ass…” she laughs again when you press your elbow against her side, and you smile a little—eyes focused on the court in front of you.

a few minutes pass by; your girlfriend’s sister and you chatting during each one of them, before abruptly stopping to loudly cheer when the players finally make their entrance.

you were already cheering, but now that you finally see your baby walking out the dressing-room, you’re cheering twice as loudly—and you can’t help it. it’s like an automatic reflex type of shit.

from up there, you see emily looking around the stands—snatching more screams from the fans—and then getting attacked by hailey, who jumps on her back while pointing at you and danielle.

locking eyes with your girl, you practically feel your cheeks hurting from smiling too much. “she’s so, UGH” danielle bursts out laughing, and you smile a little—still mesmerised by your girl’s beauty.

from her neatly braided hair, to her sexy-ass tattooed legs, everything about her makes you a giggling mess. and the cameraman, whose been recording you since the beginning, seems to be living for it.

your eyes still locked, you take advantage of her not doing anything and tell her that you love her—ready to shout it out without a doubt, with your face on the national television or not.

hearing your scream, the whole louisville team’s burst with laughter—some of them teasing emily, who don’t seem to care; too busy saying it back to you.

“you two are so cute, it’s sickening” you hear danielle mumbling, the girl shaking her head like a disappointed mom. it’s your turn to laugh, pinching her cheek.

“awww, we love you too dan’” she rolls her eyes but smiles nonetheless when you press a little kiss on her cheekbone. “jealous bitch…” you mutter once you’re comfortably seated, danielle gasping loudly before slapping your arms a few times.

the opposite teams dap each other’s up, and soon enough—the match begins.

your ass, during the whole first part of it, is definitely not on your chair, too busy cheering like there’s no tomorrow to do so. you even argued with the referee from your seat, danielle laughing her ass off next to you and the cameras setting their lens on your screaming figure.

it’s already half-time when danielle leaves to go get drinks and snacks, leaving you alone.

some fans sitting behind you call your name, and next second, you’re turned in their direction—speaking about the match and the louisville team’s score.

too caught up in your discussion, you don’t even remember yourself to turn in your seat and watch your girlfriend—but one of the girls in front of you does it for you, her eyes trailing on the basket-ball court before widening in shock. “oh my god! emily ensgtler’s looking in our direction!” she screams, attracting some of the crowd’s attention.

spinning on your chair, you can’t help but smile with all your teeth when you lock eyes with your girl—the german waving her hand in your direction, silently asking you to run down those stairs; which you are already doing.

“baby—oh!” she lets out a small scream when your whole body violently collides with hers, her tattooed arms automatically moving to wrap themselves around your waist.

smiling against the skin of her neck, you embraced her as hard as you can, not even minding her sweaty state.

the two of you swing a little from left to right, entangled with each other, before you finally decide to get your face out of her collarbone—puckering your lips for her to press hers against them.

humming into the kiss, you don’t even hear the crowd cooing, enamoured by the blonde girl in front of you. “you played so well baby” she smiles softly, pride and appreciation filling her up. “‘m so proud of you, you don’t even know how much” you add, locking your eyes with hers—letting her know that everything’s coming out your mouth is sincere.

“thank you baby, means a lot” you know that she’s not heavy on expressing her feelings and all—especially not in front of hundreds of people—so you appreciate her trying. “you know, i couldn’t play so well if my little cheerleader wasn’t there” she pinches your hip, watching intently as your cheeks become red.

“it’s my job, i take it very personally!” the blonde laughs, her smile making your heart melts.

her inked fingers get tighter on the fabric of your pants. “oh i know schatz, i know…” a little silence takes place—and you rest your forehead against hers.

being with emily is like muting the world’s noises, everything’s become clear and much more bearable.

she’s like every illnesses’ remedy—or at-least to yours, because, ironically enough, you swear you’ve never been this healthy before.

she brings to you so much happiness, love and care, and you do it too—drowning her under tons of affection and appreciation.

to you, it feels like you were put on earth to complete each other.

to the cameras, you were just another cute couple who happens to be very supportive of each other—one showing it more than the other, by screaming and shouting cheers every time she gets the chance to.

but who cares about what they can possibly think about you two?

as long as you’re still here to loudly cheer on her, and that she has your body in between her arms at the end of the day—emily doesn’t give two fucks.

written by © yappersblog, i do not accept plagiarism—this is my work and only mine.

[beatrixstonehill2]

"I've officially been a Hooters girl for one year! Just look at how fucking big my boss has made my tits. I was a C-Cup when I got hired. Before I even got my uniform they were shoving these supplements in my face. I kind of love it but I know if I ever want a real job someday I'll have to chop these embarrassing things off. It's all my coworkers and I talk about, finally getting out of the job and getting a reduction or having these monster tits we were forced to grow chopped off completely. It sucks, cuz I liked my boobs and thought they were so pretty. But now look at these grotesque melons I'm forced to walk around with all day. Every guy assumes I'm some free-use breeding cow. I've given up trying to fight them off. My commutes are now just one giant hardcore porno shoot. Which is to say nothing about how many customers I have to tit fuck and suck off every shift. Men are so greedy.....

The second guys see these huge lactating tits of mine they go nuts. They could be walking arm-in-arm with their pregnant girlfriend and still run over grope my tits and fuck me. The girlfriends just watch and film it anyway, sometimes they even masturbate, watching their bfs fuck me and smack me around. It's pathetic how used to being a cum dumpster I've become. I don't even care or notice when cum is pouring down my legs anymore. I actually leave a pool of cum wherever I sit. I can't believe what this job has turned me into, all because my dad talked me into working here, calling it a great opportunity.

Well, I hope they like taking care of all the grandkids I'll be forced to push out now. Since we're all in various stages of pregnancy, as well (Two months along with batch two!). I always dreamt of my first pregnancy being with my husband, us cherishing our kids. Not me getting fucked against the door of a subway car as a literal crowd of men surround me, all taking turns fucking me. Giving birth not in a nice hospital with my husband at my side, but instead at work as my boss gives me tequila shots for the pain, as customers face fuck me while I'm pushing out triplets. I thought men were supposed to be more gentle with pregnant girls? I swear once my belly gets really big and round they go ballistic. Way more guys start hitting me, roughing me up just for fun as they fuck me in bigger groups. My boss actually likes it when I come into work with bruises on my boobs and belly or a black eye, says it gets the customers more aroused.

Now after all this sex and breeding and my breasts getting so big I feel like my spine is gonna snap any day, I can't focus on school at all. My one way out of this job and it's like if I go ten minutes without getting fucked or playing with my tits and pussy I get agitated and restless. Like I'm addicted to getting fucked, even if 90% of it is not consensual. I'm literally fantasizing about getting my clothes ripped off and fucked in public, humiliated and treated like garbage as I write this. What the hell am I becoming? I'm doomed to drop out and keep working here. How big are my tits gonna be in a year? My brain can't take this, it's like my mind is breaking and soon I'll be nothing but a cock-addicted pregnant bimbo with a 40 IQ and breasts that weight over 100lbs a piece. The worst part is, I keep thinking to myself..... is that such a bad thing?"

[pinkyqil]

salma p. x reader who's not a footballer

prompt: blind date

location: barcelona

Blind date // salma paralluelo

Salma had been getting restless teasing from her friends and fellow teammates. Especially about her lover life or when she came back from one of her horrid dates that went awful.

"So Salma how did your last date go". vicky asked her with a teasing voice.

"Ugh I don't even want to talk about it spare me please".

"Nope you don't get to butt out of telling us". Pina and patri told her along with esme and ona agreeing with there statements.

She told them how it went especially how the other girl had accidentally spill a drink on her after refusing to give her free tickets to there next game and how she basically got ditched mid date.

"So your telling me she threw her drink on you after you declined her request and left you for someone else". vicky said before bursting into laughter along with the other girl's.

"Very well figured out genius". salma throwing her head back before laughing with them.

"You basically got toyed with amiga I feel bad for you.patri told her

"Thanks for the reminder guys let's go before we have to do extra laps". She told the group of friends before jogging away.

"I feel bad now guys poor salma".vicky told the group of girls as they made there way down

"Yeah". they said in tune before making there way back.

"Salma salma". Ona called up the tall girl trying to reach her before she left.

Upon hearing her name begin called she turned around to a already tried ona.

"Yes".she said

"Are you free tonight?".ona asked her

"Yep got nothing to do but watch a film".

"How about a blind date-".before ona could finish she got a no

"No after what I told you expect me to go on another one especially a blind date?".

"Please think about it I'll send you the details I promise you she's a good one". Ona explained to a very bother salma.

Salma found herself staring at ona's messages for a ungodly amounts of time.her heart and mind kept telling her two different things. Go and just enjoy yourself or stay and avoid going on the blind date knowing whatever could happen.

She decided to go knowing she's dealt with worse slama was never the type to face her challenges but when she did, she definitely takes over.so here she was looking through her closet and looking for the perfect fit to wear knowing that she was definitely going to be late.

She dusted her outfit one last time before heading inside the mini cafe restaurant. the nervousness was gone the moment she felt the cafe peaceful atmosphere. spoting a darked haired woman at the table she mentally cursed herself out for being late.

"Hi sorry for coming in late something came up". she said before taking a sit the moment she looked at you she felt and insanely amount of butterflies in her stomach.

Forget gorgeous you we're breathtaking when her eyes meet yours.

"No worries I didn't have to wait that long".you told her.

The date went smoothly in fact amazing.you both got to know each other a lot more and surprisingly you both had a lot more in common than you thought.

finding out that night she loved going for runs midnight jogs just like you made your heart flutter especially with how flirty she got mid date making you blush hard that you we're probably different shade.

After a while you both took a walk in the beautiful city of Barcelona holding hands breeze in your face and a fresh moment for you both.

"Same time next week". she asked you

"Definitely I really enjoyed the date salma thanks for making it meaningful for me".you told her

"No thank you I was actually contemplating on coming after awful date encounters but I'm glad I did".

The next day salma woke up with butterflies her mind was just filled with thoughts about seeing you and your next date together.

but sadly those thought had been interrupted when she head for training.

First person she saw would be ona who looked over the moon to see her telling from the huge grin she had on her face.

"Soo by the smile on your face I can assume the date went well".

"It did come one let's head down and I'll tell you everything".has she grabbed ona's hand so that they could partner up for drills and she's spils the date tea.

A/n: hope you like it added a lil twit of my own I'm still taking in the 3 player prompt thing all you gotta do is send in a player prompt and location hope y'all like enjoy this fic and has always feedbacks are appreciated 💗

[canthelpit0]

Jealous girl

Pairing: Chris x jealous!Reader

Wordcount: 5.1k +

Summary: where a girl from school, that you don’t like, somehow knows Chris. Your school life and private life collide, as you decide to make rash moves to get back at her, and teach her a lesson.

Warnings: smut, jealousy, rich kid!Reader, use of y/n, they’re seniors in HS, marking, possessive!Reader )if u squint), pet names, p in v, filming, creampie, unprotected

(A/N: ik I’ve been doing a lot of rich kid reader, but it’s just sm easier 😭 I'm sorry for any grammar errors, English is not my fist language. also, the song has like barely anything to do with the plot.)

I’ve been friends with the triplets for most of my life. We just click.

I’ve always had a slight crush on Chris, he’s the first one I met.

I was scribbling a drawing in kindergarden, sitting at a table all by myself, when Chris came up to me. He started to talk to me and rant about something, until he declared us friends.

We grew up together, went to the same elementary and middle school. But being a rich kid, my parents wanted me to go to a private high school for better education.

So now I go to a private high school in Boston, while the triplets go to Somerville high school.

At first I really didn’t want to go, since it was a private school with uniforms and all. But my parents weren’t letting up, and even threatened to send me to a boarding school in Switzerland.

So I reluctantly agreed.

There was this girl, Eva. Your basic blonde girl with green eyes.

Now, I never liked Eva’s friend, but that was years ago, and I don’t think they’re even friends anymore.

Anyway, me and Eva share the same AP European history class.

We don’t talk a lot though.

★ ★ ★

I walk down the hallway making my way towards the door. Today was a draining day and all I wanted to do was go home and sleep.

But I have homework and-

My thoughts are cut off as I stop in my track raising an eyebrow. There was chris, standing in front of the main entrance of the school.

“Y/n?” He asks excitedly. It’s like my brain pauses for a moment.

“Chris?” I ask back.

At this point I hadn’t seen Chris or his brothers in a month or so. I was too busy studying and they were busy with lacrosse.

I live in Boston at the border to Somerville. And Chris lives in Somerville. But my school is 40 minutes away from his by car.

He opens his arms and I gladly hug him. I sigh as we embrace, my eyes closing briefly.

“Why are you here?” I ask. After all, Chris, to my knowledge didn’t have a drivers license and no reason to be here.

“Well, you know Eva? Well I gave her my jacket a week ago and I came to pick it up since she goes to your school-“ He rants, his words come out fast and jumbled by how excited he is to see me.

“How do you know Eva?” The words come out sassy. And honestly if i wasn’t hyper aware of the fact that we’re on school grounds I’d slip in a swear word.

“Well a week ago I was out in Boston shopping with Matt and Nick and this girl came up to me asking for my jacket since she was cold. Just out of nowhere” he starts to rant again, but I don’t even have half the mind to interrupt him.

After all, this felt like two of my separate worlds were colliding. And I didn’t like it one bit. He didn’t seem to dislike her like I did, wich only made me despise her more.

“And you gave it to her? A stranger?” I raise an eyebrow a huff leaving my lips.

I sound more sassy than I intend to, but I can’t help it.

Students walk past us slowly. Being in a private school most people loved it here. They weren’t pushing to leave.

We stand at the side of the main entry, still inside.

“Yeah. She asked for it” he sasses back, matching my attitude. Yet his smile stays big on his face and I could tell he wasn’t serious.

“What if she stole it?” I roll my eyes looking back up at Chris who had a few inches on me.

“That’s what I said too.” He agrees dramatically. “So she offered to give me her snap and told me she’d give it back to me next opportunity she got.”

That seems a bit dumb to me. She’s rich, she could just buy a new jacket if she’s outside and cold.

“You’ve been talking?” I question. I cringe slightly at the jealous tone lacing my words but Chris doesn’t seem to pick up on it.

“Yeah” he chirps back happily.

Oh so now they were snapping too?

He sticks out like a sore thumb. The way he carries himself, the way he smiles and acts, is just a dead giveaway that he does not go to a private school. Let alone, the fact that he’d not wearing a uniform like everyone else walking out right now.

Some people give us weird looks, but most don’t even care.

I purse my lips, if my day hadn’t been bad already, it was definitely ruined now.

The problem wasn’t that he had friends, other than me. But the fact that I knew her and knew how much of a Bitch she is, and how he can’t realize that.

The fact that he knew that she goes to my school, and that i probably know her, But didn’t even bother to mention it to me.

“You know what class she has right now?” He asks me. He actually has the nerve to.

“No.” I roll my eyes. Honestly I couldn’t care less. I only share that one class with her.

I turn on my heel to walk away, but before I can he grabs my elbow pulling me back slightly.

“Please don’t leave?” He asks sweetly.

I huff yanking my arm out of his grasp. Sure it could be awkward standing in front of the main door, obviously not going to this school looking like a lost puppy. But it’s Chris, he’ll survive.

“Chris, I have shit to do”

that’s a lie. I don’t have anything planned today. I just wanted to go home and sleep.

“Pretty please??” I huff turning back around. I stand next to him, my arms crossed as I scan the people leaving the building.

“Cute uniform you got there.” He says licking his lips slightly as he looks over my body.

I was wearing the green plaid skirt. And a basic white, collared button down. Along with the schools signature green cardigan and the tie.

I had so many layers on it was crazy. Since it was a more chilly day in Boston I had my tights on, but under the tights I had Thermo leggings on to keep me warm.

Honestly if people at public schools think the dress code is strict they should go to a private school for a day.

Once three buttons from the top of my collared shirt were unbuttoned and I was dress coded for it.

Atleast the skirt wasn’t horrendously long.

It could still be considered a mini skirt if you squint.

“You say that every time you see me in it” I scoff. I can’t help the fact I’m being sassy, I’m just in a horrible mood.

“I mean it.” He answers.

But before i can respond I hear an annoying voice from in front of me. “Hey Chris.” I turn my head to look at Eva.

The bitch is smiling wide. She was wearing the khaki skirt and the navy blazer with the black tights.

I purse my lips. God I wish I could dress however I want to for school.

“Hi Eva.” Chris greets her with a hug.

I physically try to hold back a scowl. They talk about something and I drown Out Eva’s pitched, bitchy tone.

Of corse Chris wouldn’t pick up on the flirting. But I see the way she smiles at him. The way her eyes trail over his face and linger at his lips for too long.

And I don’t know why I’m getting all territorial, but I guess I’m scared that Chris won’t have time to hang out anymore if he starts dating.

Either that or I just know how much of a bitch she is and I could treat him better than she ever could.

“Y/n this is Eva, Eva this is y/n” Chris makes us shake hands. He introduces us like we don’t know each other.

She chuckles at the silly gesture. She doesn’t hate me and I don’t hate her either. I just don’t like her, and the way she acts.

I’m rich, sure. And I’m more wealthy then her, but atleast I don’t act like a brat.

We start to walk, with them chatting, and me just trailing behind them.

We get to Eva’s car, she’d said something about driving him home or something. Does this girl know he lives like more than 40 minutes away?

My skin crawls at the thought of them being together in her car for that long. All alone.

“Chris come here” I wave him over for a second. Eva doesn’t question it instead going on her phone.

He walks over to me. I grab him by the shoulder to pull him down as I whisper in his ear. “You always pick the worst people to befriend.”

I let go of him. He groans rolling his eyes. His past two friendships with girls he befriended had ended horribly. But it was so predictable.

“Y/n/n. Come on” he scoffs. I turn to walk away to my own car to drive home.

Until he grabs my arm again pulling me back. “Can we talk.” He mumbles his arms wrapping a round my torso his chest pressed against my back.

“Not now.” I huff pushing myself off of him slightly. He wasn’t holding me tightly so I get out of his grip fairly easily.

“Y/n” he huffs.

“Don’t start.” I sass at him. I clench my jaw. I feel disappointed but not surprised. Eva wasn’t the type to show guys she’s interested in just how bitchy she really is.

“I gotta go, have fun.” I smile at him sarcastically. I let my smile drop as fast as it had appeared finally walking away from them.

But when I glance over my shoulder he’s already standing next to her smiling down at her.

★ ★ ★

The whole week after she found out I knew him, she’d constantly call him, and be around me and tell me stuff about him as if I didn’t know.

She’d sho me pictures of them together, she’d tell me jokes that I’ve heard before.

It was just the same old recycled bullshit.

He’d told her that we’ve known each other for basically forever. Why the hell was she talking to me like I didn’t know him?

That weekend I went over to the triplets house like I usually do, ready to sleepover.

I was in nicks bedroom talking to him.

“God, Chris always has terrible friends. And he needs to stop talking to everyone he sees.” Nick says with an eye roll.

This was our weekly complaining session.

“I know right, he befriended some girl from my school-“ I’m cut off by Nick.

“Eva?” I nod.

“I met her a few days ago and she’s so annoying.” He agrees slapping my arm a few times as he gets worked up.

“Right.” I scoff agreeing with him.

“And she totally has a thing for Chris.” He rolls his eyes hard.

I purse my lips. Good to know that I’m not delusional and that someone else sees it too.

After that the conversation topic shifts until Nick is ranting about some random TikTok song, and about how it’s obviously written to go TikTok viral and whatnot.

★ ★ ★

“Where are you gonna sleep tonight?” Nick asks, lying flat on his back, on his bed.

I slept over almost every weekend. And usually I’d rotate between whose bed space I’ll take up.

It is Friday, I always come over Friday after school. And then I stay until Sunday. And Sunday afternoon I go back home.

I always stay over on the weekends unless I have like an upcoming exam or something.

“Uhm.” I pause. I should sleep in Matt’s room tonight. But I want to talk with Chris more.

“Chris” I state. Nick doesn’t even question it.

The last time I’d slept over was over a month ago. and while sure, we did hang out in the past month, I spent all my weekends studying.

Nick had no mind to question me. He couldn’t care less. I could tell he’d missed me, and knowing I was sleeping over was comforting no matter where I slept.

We talk for a bit more until I stand up and pick up my overnight bag. I hug Nick and tell him I’m gonna head to Chris’ room.

We really need to talk about making good friends, and who to not befriend.

Because it keeps happening that Chris will pick out the shittiest people to befriend. And god it’s so irritating having to listen to him complain after they ‘betray’ him.

I walk upstairs to Chris’ room and unceremoniously swing the door open.

Once the door opens I’m immediately greeted with the sight of the pale pink LED’s on. There he was laying on his bed laying ON his side his phone up to his face.

“Oh hi y/n” he smiles at me briefly before going back to staring at his phone.

Chris usually called me any nickname under the sun before calling me my actual name.

Eva’s piercing voice echos out of the phone speakers making my expression sour immediately.

“Hi y/n” she says loudly. I can’t help the eye roll.

“Chris.” I hiss under my breath my eyes narrowed in a glare. He glances back at me his lips pursing in mild annoyance.

He tells her he’s got to go and that he’ll call her back. Chris then hangs up, slightly sitting up, his back pressed against his head bored.

I walk in fully, now closing the door behind me.

I put my overnight bag on his desk.

“I think she likes you.” I say simply my lips tugged into a straight line.

He huffs a laugh as if he thinks I’m joking.

I look over my shoulder, observing the grey sweatpants and white wife beater combo.

He crossed his arms staring back at me.

“I’m dead serious.” I say flatly. “Ever since she found out that I know you, she’s been coming to me in breaks and talking about you like I give a fuck.”

He poked his tongue into his cheek his expression falling flat “you’re serious?” He asks his voice painfully monotone.

“Of corse you didn’t realize” I roll my eyes turning back to look at my backpack.

“Whatever” I roll my eyes. I grab my make up bag that I always had in his room and I walk out the room to the bathroom to take off my make up.

After a few minutes I come back to see him on his phone again.

“Shit you’re right.”

Chris breathes out not even looking at me just saying that. He was going through previous messages only now seeing the underlying flirtation in her choice of words.

I raise my eyebrow at him before it registers what he is saying.

“I know” I say simply.

“How do I let her down slowly?” He asks his eyes finally going up to meet mine. His blue eyes only seem more exaggerated under the pink LED lights.

Before walking away from the door I lock it, he sends me a questioning glance but ultimately doesn’t say anything.

“You know, like how do I tell her I’m not interested, without saying that?” He adds still looking at me.

I walk up to the side of his bed.

I then roll my eyes getting on the bed. I sit next to him my back against the headboard as well.

We’re both quiet, the air in the room thickening. I can practically feel my skin burning up.

“How about you make a bold statement?” I break the silence after a moment.

Before he can respond I turn and get on his lap. My eyes are dark as I Simply sit on his thighs.

His hands go to my waist out of instinct. My arms wrapping around his neck.

He huffs out a breath his cheeks tinted a slight red. “What? you wanna make a sex tape or something?” He rolls his eyes.

I roll my eyes back at him. “That would be bold, but I don’t want her to see your dick.”

“Ooh possessive?” He teases. Chris unconsciously squeezes my side making me whine under my breath.

He chuckles at the sound, but before he can comment on it I’m speaking again. “I was thinking hickey , but if you want to fuck so bad then-“ I cut myself off.

“We can do both” he assures.

I lick my lips. And before I know it I move his face with my hand tilting his head to the side. My lips touch his jawline. I kiss down his jawline to his neck before I start to suck harshly.

He lets out a harsh breath his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“Easy ma, you got all the time In The world.”

Ma. I genuinely don’t know where he heard that, but at some point he just started calling me ma or mama.

Like I said, he used every pet name under the sun, before saying my actual name.

I pull away for a second my eyes scanning the small purple bruise on his neck.

“No.” I breathe out harshly before starting to peck his neck again. Until I bite down, relatively low on his neck close to the other hickey.

I bite hard, making sure my teeth print would be there while also sucking another hickey into his skin.

He hisses at the harsh feeling, his hands clenching and unclenching on my waist. He doesn’t stop me tho. Quite contrary, I hear a few whines leave his mouth. His sounds sounding borderline like moans.

I pull away admiring his neck.

I move the strap of his wife beater to the side, kissing down his collarbone. I suck more marks into his skin, until I deem it enough.

“You wanna tap this, handsome?” I tease , my eyes meeting his pale blue ones.

His eyes are half lidded and his pupils blown out in pleasure.

It’s really late by now. It’s dark outside. And the light pink LED lights make his blue eyes look even bluer.

“Please?” He asks sweetly his tone feigning innocence.

I can feel the hardness press up against my clothed core. I grin back at him, my eyes dark in lust and half lidded like his.

I cross my arms and tug off my t shirt. I throw it to the ground, letting Chris Bask in the sight of my bra covered chest.

The lust radiating off of him only seems to double.

“So pretty.” He coos. And before I know it he’s leaning forward and kissing my chest.

He glances up at me through his lashes and mumbles against my skin. “Can I leave hickeys too?”

I chuckle at the question. It really didn’t matter for me. My schools dress code is strict and I would have to cover them up anyway.

“Under the neckline” I nod simply. And before I realize it he’s sucking on the tender skin of one of my boobs.

He licks and sucks at the skin, half my boob covered in his saliva now.

I tug in his top. He groans against me, obviously not wanting to pull away. But he eventually does, I pull the wife beater over his head and throw it to the floor.

His hand goes up to cup my other boob while he kisses down from my collarbone to my chest and then sucks another hickey at the top of it.

I card my hand through his hair while I don’t bother pulling him off. He lets me stroke his hair moaning into my skin.

He pulls away, his eyes even darker than before. his hair now messy as well.

I get off of him. He groans at the loss of contact. I can see he’s about to complain. But before he can, I start to undo my pajama pants and slide them down.

My black lacy thong and my black lacy bra match.

Chris had made fun of me for wearing such ‘slutty’ underwear before. After all whenever I showered here I left some of my clothes, namely my underwear, here.

I had my own little section in Chris’ closet filled with my panties and bras.

“Fuck.” He breaths out closing his eyes briefly and then opening them again as if checking if he was seeing things.

He starts to shift and tug down his own sweatpants. He eagerly tugs them off along with his boxers letting his cock spring free.

My mouth quite literally waters at the sight of his hard dick lying flat against his stomach.

He lays down flat on his back looking to his side to look me in the eyes.

“Please ride me ma.”

He says in such a pleading and whiny tone, how could I say no to that.

I walk past his bed to his desk and pick up my phone from where I’d put it.

I walk back tugging the thong off swiftly. I get on top of him straddling his torso. I grind myself against his dick, feeling it glide between my wet folds.

I tug on my bra trying to get it off. And when I finally do, it’s also discarded quickly.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous mama.” He sighs looking at my boobs, both of them having small hickeys on them.

He puts his two hands on my waist lifting me slightly. He trails one hand down to my folds examining my pussy.

I feel him push his middle finger into my cunt abruptly to wich I moan.

He hums as if he was thinking. “So tight baby.” He coos his second hand on my waist caressing my skin gently.

“Gotta stretch this pussy out. We don’t want it to tear do we?” Chris asks sarcastically, obviously joking.

I lick my lips and let out a dry chuckle. His girth really did look painfully big. Atleast for what I was used to.

It wasn’t like he was that big, but it was definitely well above average.

I hand him my phone so he can start recording and that’s just what he does. He uses his hand from my waist to film this.

The camera pointing right at my pussy. He pushes a second finger in, briefly finger fucking me and scissoring his fingers to stretch me more.

“So fucking soaked.” He groans under this breath.

Chris takes his fingers out of me grabbing his hard dick and jerking it for a second. I lift myself and he positions it at my cunt, while also making sure to keep the camera at the right angle.

I push myself down letting out a breathy moan.

His hand, that’s not holding my phone, goes to my waist to steady me.

I suddenly push myself down on him completely. I whine loudly, my body jerking forward at the impact. He groans at the feeling of being balls deep in me.

“You okay?” He asks rubbing my waist gently in comfort.

“Yea” I breathe out my eyes closing as I try to get used to the feeling.

My legs are already numb and I’m already questioning why I’m on top.

I start to slowly bounce myself on him. He watches through my phone, his eyes glued to where we connect, seemingly fascinated by the sight.

“So tight for me.” He breaths out harshly trying to hold back loud groans. He was painfully aware of the fact that his siblings and parents were home.

I start to bounce on him more listening to him shower me in praises and compliments.

“Fuck.” His eyes stay trained on the phone screen, but he occasionally glances up to look at me.

I start to ride him harder the compliments and praise only making me wetter.

“God, come on, get yourself off on my dick like the slut you are.” He huffs. His free hand lightly on my waist to help me steady my movements.

He tries not to be too loud, both for the camera and because everyone is home.

I lean forward slightly and take my phone from his grasp.

I film his face and his reactions now.

His hands go to my waist slightly squeezing my skin as I start to rock my hips harder.

“Good boy, be quiet yeah.”

I feel the knot in my stomach tighten threatening to snap. The constant hit to my sweet spot is so overwhelming, and before I know it I’m releasing on his dick.

my hands are shaky but my phone is still angled at him, catching his mouth dropping in pleasure.

I clench around him letting out soft whines and moans, while Chris uses his hands to make me grind on him.

After a second when I calm down he grins. Chris holds his hand out for the phone that I give to him. He lifts me slightly to show the Camera the white circle my cum created around his length.

He makes no move to switch our positions so I just grind into him.

Chris turns the recording off and puts my phone on the nightstand. His hands find their way to my hips holding me tightly.

But before he can switch our positions like he was lplanning to, his phone starts ringing.

I glance ova seeing Eva as the caller ID. I roll my eyes. I feel pretty over stimulated already, but I want her to know.

“Pick up.” I demand under my breath. Our eyes meet for a moment but he eventually complies.

He leans over and takes his phone, picking up the call with a frown.

As soon as I hear her annoying voice i start to ride him again, making sure that the slapping sounds are loud enough.

He tries not to groan at the movements, trying to keep himself together.

“Eva, uh” he pauses his eyes locking with mine once more. He can’t help it when his free hand on my waist urges me to go harder.

“I’m kind of busy right now”

But she doesn’t get the hint and questions him. “Too busy to talk to me?”

Fucking pick me.

“Yeah well” he lets out a soft groan, pulling the phone away so she doesn’t hear it too well.

She starts to yap about some unimportant shit. Chris puts the phone on the side of the bed sitting up.

I stop moving due to Chris harsh grip. He pulls me off and flips us around.

I grab the pillow re- adjusting it so the side of my face is buried in it, my ass up for him.

He grins a soft slap echoing through the room. He kneeds my ass trying to smooth the pain of the slap.

He spreads my cheeks and pushes himself back in. He immediately starts up a harsh and fast pace fucking me into the pillow.

“Are you having sex right now?” Eva questions sounding like a brat who was just denied a toy

He leans over for a second picking up his phone. “No I’m not, why would you think that” he scoffs continuing his relentless attack to my sweet spot.

My core throbs around him, clenching to try and suck him back in.

“Oh my god you are-“ before she can rant about god knows what, Chris hangs up the phone.

He scoffs his grip in my waist tightens as he continues to forcefully pull me back on him.

He goes to the camera app on his phone starting to film once again.

He admires the way his entire length disappears into my tight cunt, and the way he has a white ring around the base of his cock from my previous release.

He picks up pace even more, if that was even humanly possible, until I feel like im going to cum again.

I turn my face and burry it in the pillow trying to muffle my noises. Because honestly I’d be surprised if the whole house didn’t already know what we’re doing.

“Close” I whine out between incoherent moans.

“Me too ma. Hold it for a bit, yeah?” He says sweetly his harsh actions not so sweet.

“Where do you want it?” He keeps glancing between the camera and me, sometimes angling the camera to show my back and the back of my head too.

“Inside” I whine. And that mildly catches Chris off guard.

He only picks up pace tho, his palm meets my butt again, in a harsh slap. I moan at the feeling. “Come on come for me” he demands.

And before I know it the knot in my stomach snaps once more my thighs shaking and my cunt clenching a round him.

The Camera is focused on my cunt. His thrusts get more sloppy and messy until he gives me one last harsh thrust.

Chris releases into me, filling me up to the brim and stuffing me.

We both stay like that for a moment to catch our breathes.

He stops the recording and throws the phone next to me, onto the bed.

He trails his hand over my ass and lower back, before gently grabbing my hips and pulling out.

He lets out a breath seeing his length covered in our combined juices, and me leaking.

He pushes me on my side slightly, so I’m laying down fully. I sigh turning my face into the pillow my arm under it.

“You okay?” He asks softly. Chris kisses my shoulder softly.

I just realized that we hadn’t kissed once. This entire time, his lips hadn’t been on mine not once. And I don’t know if he did that on purpose or not.

“ m’ good” I sigh closing my eyes briefly.

I nuzzle my face into the pillow, breathing out. I blink my eyes open again sighing.

I feel his eyes burn into the side of my face.

“Were you jealous?”

My eyes shoot open and I turn my head slightly to look at him. “About what?” I say simply playing dumb.

“Why do you not like her.” He asks again.

“I never liked her.”

“Right, and you don’t like that she likes me.” He states simply.

I scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself” I huff and nuzzle my face into the pillow.

“You literally have my cum inside of you right now, ma.” He huffs in response.

I purse my lips burring my face harder into the pillow.

“I like that.” He says again making me look back at him. Chris is looking down at me with a sweet smile

“What?” I ask and look at him from the corner of my eyes.

“That you’re jealous.” Chris replies, his smirk ever so cocky.

“Why would I be jealous?” You huff, replying sarcastically.

“Don’t deny it ma. I think it’s cute.” Chris chuckles. He grins down at you victoriously. He lays down next to you staring into your eyes.

Masterlist

A/N: this was so fun to write lmao. sorry for not posting in the past few days, I was just busy with school and didn't have the motivation to write. Feel free to to send me stuff my req and asks are open <3

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf

[matthewsturniolosgirlfriend101]

Swimming (Matt Sturniolo)

description: y/n and the triplets go swimming for content. But matt and y/n's sweet intractions definitely do not go unseen.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sexual things.

I have had a crush on Matt for the longest time. Everybody always tells me that he likes me back, but I never belive it.

Today, Matt, Chris, Nick and I have rented out a swimming centre, so we can film content in there. I was so exited, I had done swimming in the past and it was always a huge part of my life, something that I could do where I don't overthink or get stressed or anxious. "Y/n?" Matt says, breaking me out of my thoughts. "You alright?" I nodded, continuing to gaze out of the window humming quietly to 'TV by Billie Eilish.'

I suddenly felt a warm feeling on my inner thigh, I peered down at my lap and saw that it was Matt's hand. Slowly rubbing circles with his thumb. I felt a hot flush of heat run to my face as I turned away, biting my lip.

Around 5 minutes later, Matt removed his hand from my thigh to park in a space outside the swimming pool. I was sad at the loss of contact, but I knew matt had to use both hands so he didn't rear end the car beside him. As soon as he had parked we got out, Chris came up behind me and ruffled my hair "hey!" I said looking back at him annoyed. " I was having a good ponytail day!" All he replies with is "whoopsies" as he runs away like a child. Matt came up behind me and wrapped his arm over my shoulders pulling my back into his chest as he walked behind me. He carefully moved my misplaced strands of hair back to their original places. Little did we know Nick was recording us behind long enough to catch the whole thing. "Definitely keeping this in, it will be good for the edits." Whispers Nick to Chris. Chris just chuckles and agrees.

I start to get giddy as we walk inside because I smell the familiar scent of chlorine. I ran into the changing rooms, Chris running behind me as Matt and Nick slowly walked behind us. As me and Chris were fighting over who should get the family sized stall, Nick started to talk to Matt.

"So when are you two gonna get together?" Asked Nick. "What are you talking about?" Says Matt his gazed still fixed on me as I tried to push myself into the stall that Chris wouldn't let me have. "C'mon you know exactly what I'm taking about. Don't think we don't see the way you too look at each other. AND don't think we didn't see you putting your hand on her thigh or when you did all that weird shit in the car park coming in."

"Okay okay geez, I would love to talk to her about a relationship but I'm not sure she likes me back." Nick looks at him with an expression mixed of disgust, shame and shock. "Are you fucking stupid?" Matt laughs and walks away to get changed. All he could think about was y/n. Her beautiful voice, her soft hair, her flawless skin, her eyes, her curves, her lips. Oh god he loves her lips, they are so plump and naturally pink that he just wondered what they taste like.

Matt was quickly shook out of his dirty thoughts when y/n called his name "Matt! Hurry up we're all waiting for you!" Matt quickly shoves his clothes in his bag as he stepped out. He was wearing blue trunks. He scanned the floor and looked up when his eyes met y/n's but not for long as he traveled his gaze down to her bikini. A white fabric with little cherries on it. It looked so good on her. "You okay?" Y/n said giggling. He snapped up out of his trance. "Yeah I'm good." He said as he walked past her, grabbing her hand as he did.

30mins into filming we ended up doing races.

I always remember being really good at breaststroke. It was an easy swim for me as I didn't have to suffocate myself for that long. "Hey Matt!" I yelled " I bet you can't beat me in a breaststroke race!" ( A/N: help why does that sound so weird.)

"I bet I could." Matt says as he runs up to me grabbing my waist and jumping into the water. Nick laughs as he points the camera to us and zooms in. When I pop up from under the water, we both get ready to start the race. "GO!" screams Chris. I take off, my hands and legs moving rapidly, I got a pretty good headstart so I was ahead of Matt but still in arms reach. We were close to the end of the pool when I felt Matt's hand wrap around my ankle as he pulled me back into his chest. Kissing my head subconsciously and whispering in my ear "slow down sweetheart." Oh. My. Word. My somache filled with butterflies as I smiled shamlessly. "Or what?" I whisper back. In that moment I could feel him getting hard against my ass. He pulled away and continued swimming the rest of the pool as I stood there in shock.

Later when we were home, I was lying in my bed, hair washed and feeling squeaky clean, I was scrolling through my Instagram feed when I heard a knock at my door. "Come in." Slowly, my door opens to reveal Matt. I put my phone down and stand up, slightly flusterd as I remember our last interaction. I patted the spot next to me inviting him over. He slowly walked and sat down on my bed, I felt the space sink down and I struggled to stay balanced. "Hey." He said

"Hey." I repeated. He looks me dead in the eye his gaze burning imaginary holes into my soul. I opened my mouth to talk but he got there before me. "You know, I never did answer the question earlier." He said. I nodded, waiting for him to continue...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hey guys! This was my first imagine and I just wanted to leave it on a cliffhanger for you guys. English is not my first language so if i spelt anything wrong or something just doesn't make sense, please let me know thanks xx ALSO DOES ANYONE KNOW HOW TO SAVE DRAFTS ON HERE?

^

ALSO HOW DO YOU TAG PEOPLE?

[abstractnaturaldisaster]

is it over now? (was it over then?)

part three

part four: say the one thing i've been wanting

Steve had been dreading actually talking about this with Robin. He hadn't wanted to put her in a position to feel like she had to come out or stop using him as a plus one to industry parties to fuel rumors. Even as he and Eddie pretty publicly dated Robin's agent and most tabloids still thought Robin and Steve were a couple some even going as far as insinuating Eddie was Steve's side piece or their third.

"Steve, you're kind of scaring me, what's going on?"

"Birdie, I'm only telling you this because I can't not anymore but I want you to know nothing is your fault and I literally don't need you to do anything. I just need to be able to talk to my best friend and in order to do that I kind of have to get through this uncomfortable part," Steve answered.

"Anything, Steve. Whatever you need," Robin said.

"Okay, so Eddie and I kind of broke up because Eddie assumed I was cheating on him with Nance when she came to visit earlier this year. He got really upset and kind of blocked me from any way of contacting him so there was no way to clear anything up after he left but he definitely assumed I was cheating on him and he wrote that fucking song and I just need to talk to you without leaving out this really huge massive reason why Eddie left and why I still feel like total shit," Steve rushed to cover the main points.

"Steve, hun," Nance comforted. She probably guessed something else was going on but had been understanding enough not to press Steve for more.

"Steve, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault," Robin started catastrophizing.

"Can you please stop saying my name. It's kind of freaking me out," Steve joked, "Robs, it's totally not your fault at all. It was a shitty situation I could have handled better and so could Eddie but there's really nothing to do about it know because I can't explain it to him and he clearly doesn't want me to so we are moving on, all right?" Steve attempted to keep the energy light.

"If that's what you want, sure babe," Robin said.

"I just want to stop going down Tik Tok rabbit holes of Eddie's stupid song without being able to complain to you about how fucking tired I am of not being able to do anything," Steve said, "and also I want so much ice cream and a really stupid TV marathon with my best girls and maybe roast Eddie's new song a little bit."

Nancy had already pulled up doordash and they were soon on their way to eating a smorgasbord of snacks and ice cream while watching reality TV and eventually dissolving into a karaoke session initially overdramatically singing along to Eddie's new single and ending with some old school Taylor (her version of course). Steve was feeling better than he had in a long time and started getting out of the fog he'd been in since Eddie had left.

Eventually, Steve started answering his agent's emails again and submitting tape for different roles. He'd gotten a part in a small indie film in Italy and Steve was pretty ready to take it. It was an interesting part, it was literally away from everyone he knew, the director was kind of weird and didn't let his cast use socials while filming and encouraged only phone calls and old school letters to really get into the period mindset. It was honestly kind of a perfect next project and it helped that the script was actually kind of great.

"As long as you aren't going because you're running away, Steve. You know I don't want you to leave and you shouldn't feel like you have to," Robin said as he was starting to pack his bags.

"I really like the project. It's a good script and I get to get out of my own head for a while. Kind of perfect honestly. The shoot is pretty short its only like four weeks so I won't be gone that long and you and Nancy can keep holing up in my apartment without me getting in the way!" Steve answered.

"You're never in the way, dingus," Robin nudged him and then brought him into a hug, "we'll just miss you kiddo."

"I'll miss you too, Bobbie. Now let me go so I can pack." Steve pulled away with a bigger smile than he'd had in weeks.

part five

@lololol-1234 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zombiethingy (if you wanna be tagged in future parts feel free to comment! happy to add people)

[olderthannetfic]

Hey. Maybe not the place. But people treat your ask box like a forum so 🙏 I thought I was ace because porn does nothing for me and I only like erotica/doujinshi if I like the characters. But I recently discovered watching wrestling does something for me. Is this really weird? How do I know where I fit?

--

I will gleefully embrace the identity of basement-dwelling gremlin who prefers horny fiction to actually dating or having sex with other people.

But porn tastes aren't what defines sexual orientation.

Neither is willingness to get off the couch.

Are you attracted to people, anon? That's usually how people define the various identities on that spectrum: no attraction, very occasional attraction way below what's seen as commonplace, attraction only when you know someone well, etc. (Which, of course, brings up the question of what level is "normal" and whether someone's judging based on Hollywood nonsense or on what's actually typical.)

For me personally, mainstream porno movies have actors I find un-hot wearing clothing I find libido-killing in ugly environments with bad lighting and camerawork. The scenarios lack the psychological depth needed to interest me, and there's little sense of intimacy.

This has nothing to do with orientation and everything to do with film craft.

Doujinshi of characters I'm already familiar with have a lot more context for what's going on, and this can add a lot of zing to kinks or increase the apparent intimacy.

Wrestling has plotlines. It has deeply charismatic stars. It has different body types than a lot of porn. There's nothing odd about finding it hot but not liking the porno movies you've been exposed to.

Plenty of people prefer all of the horny film festival favorites of the 90s to actual porno movies. It seems like funding dried up for those kinds of movies for a decade or two, but they used to be common.

I preferred the kinkier ones. Crash, for example, was a staple of my teenage viewing. Not the cringey one that won too many awards: the pervert one with the eight billion scenes of people licking each other's scars like they were performing oral.

It really digs into the psychology of kink... in addition to being far more visually beautiful and starring far hotter people than most of the commercial porn I've seen. Same deal with The Pillow Book or ¡Átame! or Maurice or Bound.

I've been seeing articles lately talking about a return to 90s levels of sex in arty movies. People point to the likes of Call Me By Your Name and Saltburn.

Live action commercial porno movies do vary, obviously, but it's just so, so, so common to find them tacky or boring while liking other forms of porn, even other live action sex scenes.

Hell, even for poorly shot stuff, I've never seen even amateur porn capture the vibes of this one long-deleted youtube video of a guy giving a lecture on anal massage and treating his subject like a prop while lecturing to a big group of onlookers.

--

Sometimes, people just aren't very into casual sex, and horny art where they can fantasize about people who actually know each other is better than horny art about the pizza delivery guy. Sure, there are pornos that try to have more plot, but porn stars are generally good at being porn stars, not at subtle and naturalistic acting.

Wrestlers are hardly subtle, but they do do different acting from your average porno, and there's more continuing plotline. Unless you mean... like... college wrestling? (In which case, Kink.com has or had some series where people wrestle to decide who gets to top. Wrestling is hardly a niche interest.)

For kinksters, the context and psychology often matter a lot. Showing an object with a lot of cultural baggage, like shiny black leather, can be hot, but the viewer might need more, and your average porno isn't geared up to provide that.

--

Anyway, if you want to determine your own orientation, your interest in art isn't necessarily going to help that much.

If you're only rarely attracted to people, and you have to know them well first, you could be demisexual, but you could equally well be shy or nervous or depressed or repressed or too busy and stressed to spend much time noticing your own feelings—or just surrounded by people who aren't your type. Only your personal interpretation of your internal experience can determine which it is.

But no, being horny for wrestling is not weird.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝟱 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗦𝗘𝗦, 𝗠𝗩𝟭 max verstappen x fem! reader (fluff) “. . . using his five sesnses, these are his favoritetings about you.”

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests | taglist )

Sight

his blue eyes appreciate anything and everything you give him.

He already thinks of you as eye candy or an angel right from a rococo painting.

But what it does for him is seeing you do something you enjoy.

If you’re playing video games or playing with his cats.

He sometimes takes videos or photos secretly so he can watch later or just to open and randomly appreciate you when he’s travelling and misses you.

“They’re so pretty,” You giggled as you watched the dolphin swim around in its tank. Max was glad he was already filming your excitement because one of the mammals noticed you and was playing with you. Sliding right and left, Max knew he was going to set the video as his lock screen later if he doesn't record for over three minutes like he always does.

Touch

One of Max's favorite things ever is hugging you or holding you in any way.

It helps keep him grounded other than the fact that you’re warm and he loves having contact with you.

You’re one of the first people he hugs after a race, an anchor helping him return to the world.

You’re the first thing he reaches for when he wakes up in the morning or before going to sleep at night.

It’s also the reason it’s difficult for him to travel without you because you’re his safe person and his source of comfort.

“All we are missing now is-” You paused, lifting your eyes from the shopping list to the hand, trying to uncross your legs. You didn’t question it, sitting properly so the blond can gently hold your thigh as he wished. Max was driving with you in the passenger seat so he couldn’t really turn and see why you paused. “Schat, I can’t read your handwriting- but we need cat food.” Max nodded in agreement, his thumb gently caressing your thigh as he made a left turn.

Smell

One of Max’’s favourite things is when you put on lotion

It has a certain sweet stubble scent that’s quite calming

he considers it your signature scent. only yours.

he also likes it when he randomly smells you on his things, like his shirts or jackts, msybe his controller or his car. it makes him all giddy

He always tells you ‘that smells nice’ and other times he just holds your hand to take a whiff

“Did you put sunscreen on?” You ask as you make sure you packed everything you need. “I don’t need it.” He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence because you already squeezed a bit and started gently rubbing it on his face. Max rolls his eyes for a second before scrunching his nose. “The sun screen covers your lotion.” He complains disappointed, making you playfully shake your head.

Hearing

max adores hearing you calling him pet names,

whether it's something like love, sweetheart, maxie, baby, darling, sweets,

or something sweet in french; amore, mon core, mon cher,

It gets worse if you speak dutch. Liefje, honing, schat, schatje.

It makes his heart go ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum and his thoughts get all tangled up and mushy

"Maxie, Shatje," You call from somewhere far in the apartment, making the blond turn around instantly, his big blue eyes searching for you and your voice. He hopped out of his chair and abandoned his sim in favour of finding you. “Amour?” “Yea?” “Liefje, can you zip up this dress for me.” Oh you got him right in his excited heart.

Taste

Max is not a huge coffee or juice drinker. All he ever drinks or needs are in his protein shakes or his red bull fridge.

But if you’re making a smoothie or experimenting with coffee and offer him a sip for his opinion or to show him how good it turned out,

he takes it as an honor,

especially if he’s drinking it out of your hand.

“Woo!” is the first thing he hears from the kitchen a few seconds after the loud noise of the blender stops. He peeks his head out of the bathroom still wet from his shower when he hears your excited hops/sprinting to his direction. “Maxie!” You hold up the glass with the pinkish smoothie he can assume is strawberries and something else. “Try?” You offer, and Max doesn't hesitate to lean forward, taking a sip, his eyes lighting up at the taste of bananas and a hint of mandarin. “That’s too good, I’m keeping this,” He teases, gently taking the glass from your hands, continuing to drink the smoothie while you follow the half-naked dutch in protest.

[canmom]

the Spirited Away theatrical adaptation

today I went with @birdfriender to see the stage production of Spirited Away, produced by Toho, currently on tour in London.

and like. holy shit??

you might say how the hell could you adapt a film like spirited away to stage. the answer is: incredibly inventive stagecraft, puppetry, costumes and especially choreography.

I was completely blown away by how this play flowed across the stage. set transitions were masked with lighting to direct attention, with the descending screen, with the rotating central platform that managed to function as nearly every part of the bathhouse. stairs, rotating bridges, creative use of size to indicate perspective (like the tiny train that circles the stage), and just the way the crew would move the props with a flourish -

but also the puppetry, like man! the way characters like Kamaji, Yubaba's giant head (used only at moments of intense emotion), and No Face would be operated by entire teams of puppeteers - it was extraordinary. the puppetry director was Toby Olié who's worked on a million different things including War Horse and you can really see them applying all these tricks accumulated over the years...

the show is remarkably faithful to the film; a few scenes are slightly abridged but every sequence I remembered was there and deliver with style. where it does need to pause and breathe, like in the famous train scene, it does. and like... it is fascinating to see an adaptation from animation to theatre. seeing how Mone Kamishiraishi (Chihiro) would stumble and bumb into walls just as she would under the pen of Shinya Ohira. or how a memorable sequence in the film could be represented symbolically: a collapsing pipe as a string of segments pulled on a string, a flower garden by dancers in flower outfits.

some of my fave sequences involved wooden panels carried by dancers, choreographed so the characters would weave between them, or they'd rotate to represent elevators on different floors. it was also fascinating to see how they'd symbolically represent things it would be impossible to stage, often representing fluids with fabric sheets. a transformation could be shown with actors swapping places with a flourish. at other times, it feels like stage magic tricks are in use, like a flash of light drawing your attention to a rope that was there all along. sometimes the puppeteers will be on stage, wearing simple beige outfits that mark them as not being 'present' as they manipulate the soot sprites and frogs and so on.

they also made effective, sparing use of a large projector screen, which descended at certain points, primarily for the driving scene at the beginning and the train scene. this actually didn't use scenes from the movie, but more of a soft, painterly style applied over... probably animated video? hard to say with the blurring, could be live footage. it reminded me of the use of similar screens in the later YoRHa plays, although it was a minor element here.

we weren't allowed to take photos (i took this one during the final bow anyway) and I would have been too busy watching to take them anyway, but this teaser shows briefly a number of the coolest setups. still, it's so much more when you see the whole thing flowing along without interruption.

and it was very interesting to me looking at this kind of show - big stage, directly homaging an animated film - from the eyes of someone who knows a lot more about film and animation than I do about theatre.

compared to film, you simply do not have closeups; the closest thing is when the puppeteers bring out the segments of Yubaba's giant floating head, but this is used sparingly. so everything is basically a long shot. however, because the acuity of a human eye is much greater than that of a camera, even from near the back of the theatre you can make out a lot of details that you wouldn't be able to make out with an equivalent camera shot. this allows compositions where there is loads going on at stage at once, with the eye being drawn to different areas by lighting and movement.

I do feel like there are definitely things to learn for animators from this kind of stage choreography. so many times I thought like, wow, that's so clever. like how chihiro riding haku was shown by splitting the dragon puppet into segments and putting her on the shoulders of one of the puppeteers.

and everything was done with such style too. if something shuffles off stage, you know it will be done with a wiggle and a flourish. small things but they add so much.

presumably because this seems like an incredibly involved show, there are multiple performers for each major character: four Chihiros, and three Hakus, Yubabas, Kamajis and so on. I'm not sure the exact lineup tonight beyond Chihiro. the exception is Kaonashi (No Face), who is played only by Hikaru Yamano, who gives an incredible performance, sidling and flexing around the stage in all sorts of strange ways that really get across the character's whole deal despite literally performing under a white mask and concealing robe. it's kinda amazing.

another fantastic casting is fundoshi dancer Yuya Igarashi as Kashira (the stack of three big heads that serve Yubaba, and speak only in wordless grunts). he basically has his real head as one of the three, and he has two more heads on his hands, and moves them around in incredibly energetic and funny ways. it's a brilliant way to interpret this, somehow feeling perfectly appropriate to have a buff guy in a red loincloth moving them around.

Yubaba's actress tonight would have been either Mari Natsuki or Hitomi Harukaze; either way she did an incredible job, it was really cool seeing a more human-proportioned version of the character and she brought a lot of energy and authority to the role.

the whole cast did a fucking amazing job honestly. I wish I knew more about theatre acting so I could comment more specifically on the tricks they were doing, but you definitely felt Chihiro's emotions

the production is in Japanese; English subtitles were shown on two screens on either side of the stage. the translation was on the 'honorifics included' end of that scale, but absolutely clear and idiomatic. the format worked - it was generally not hard to follow the action and glance at the subtitles, even though they were further away than they would be in film - and it definitely filled the theatre. I really hope this leads to more Japanese theatrical productions going on tour like this. wish i'd been able to see the Totoro one a few months ago.

definitely this kind of theatre must depend on a fairly obscene budget of the kind that only comes to biiiiig properties like, say, an adaptation of a beloved Studio Ghibli movie (one family turned up in cosplay) - there's a lot to be said for less extravagant staging. at the same time... this really was something.

i gotta go to the theatre more

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Ava Gardner (The Killers, The Barefoot Contessa)— She's so goddamn hot. Her and Frank Sinatra could've sandwiched me and I would've thanked them for the privilege

Anna May Wong (The Thief of Bagdad, Shanghai Express)—Wong was the first Chinese American movie star, arguably the first Asian woman to make it big in American films. Though the racism of the time often forced her into stereotypical roles, awarded Asian leading roles to white actors in yellowface, and prohibited on-screen romance between actors of different races, she delivered powerful and memorable performances. When Hollywood bigotry got to be too much, she made movies in Europe. Wong was intellectually curious, a fashion icon, and a strong advocate for authentic Asian representation in cinema. And, notably for the purposes of this tournament, absolutely gorgeous.

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Ava Gardner:

Ava Gardner is one of my favorite actresses of all time. Although a lot of her roles in movies are about her being beautiful and nothing else, there are some films where her acting truly shines.

Gifset: https://www.tumblr.com/pelopides/721438308726603776/ava-gardner-as-pandora-reynolds-pandora-and-the

Gifset 2: https://www.tumblr.com/portraitoflestatonfire/731899355804598272/if-the-loustat-reunion-doesnt-look-like-this-then

HER FACE. LOOK AT IT. Also was a life long supporter of civil rights and a member of the NAACP, had lots of fun love affairs with other stars, bullfighters, married several times but was also happy in between to just have lovers and was unapologetically herself.

I literally gasp every time I see her.

Between 1942 and 1964, Ava Gardner was credited in no less 50 films, and is still considered by some to be the most beautiful actresses that ever graced the silver screen. Despite life-long insecurities regarding her talent as an actress, she weathered public scandal, industry hostility, and outright condemnation by the Catholic Church with fearless grace. She would later in life talk candidly about the reality and pain of living through two (studio approved!!) abortions during her short marriage to Frank Sinatra, and while the two of them could not make their relationship work, they remained in each other’s lives for nearly 30 years. She would forever describe herself as a small-town girl who just got lucky, but always felt like a beautiful outsider.

Really genuinely one of the most beautiful human beings I have ever seen. An autodidact. Had amazing chemistry with Gregory Peck to the point where I do think about watching On The Beach again sometimes because they're so good together even though that movie did destroy me. Was a great femme fatale in many movies.

Anna May Wong propaganda:

"She so so gorgeous!! Due to Hollywood racism she was pretty limited in the roles she got to play but even despite that she’s so captivating and deserves to be known as a leading lady in her own right!! When she’s on screen in Shanghai Express I can’t look away, which is saying something because Marlene Dietrich is also in that film."

"SHE IS ON THE BACK OF QUARTERS also she was very smart and able to speak multiple languages and is a fashion icon on top of the acting/singing"

"Paved the way for Asian American actresses AND TOTAL HOTTIE!!! She broke boundaries and made it her mission to smash stereotypes of Asian women in western film (at the time, they were either protrayed them as delicate and demure or scheming and evil). In 1951, she made history with her television show The Gallery of Madame Liu-Tsong, the first-ever U.S. television show starring an Asian-American series lead (paraphrased from Wikipedia). Also, never married and rumor has it that she had an affair with Marlene Dietrich. We love a Controversial Queen!"

"She's got that Silent Era smoulder™ that I think transcends the very stereotypical roles in which she was typically cast. Also looks very hot smouldering opposite Marlene Dietrich in "Shanghai Express"; there's kiss energy there."

"Hot as hell and chronically overlooked in her time, she's truly phenomenal and absolutely stunning"

"A story of stardom unavoidably marred by Hollywood racism; Wong's early-career hype was significantly derailed by the higher-up's reluctance to have an Asian lead, and things only got worse when the Hayes code came down and she suddenly *couldn't* be shown kissing a white man--even if that white man was in yellowface. After being shoved into the Dragon Lady role one too many times, she took her career to other continents for many years. Still, she came back to America eventually, being more selective in her roles, speaking out against Asian stereotypes, and in the midst of all of this finding the time to be awarded both the title of "World's Best Dressed Woman" by Mayfair Mannequin Society of New York and an honorary doctorate by Peking University."

"Incredible beauty, incredible actress, incredible story."

"-flapper fashion ICON. look up her fits please <3 -rumors of lesbianism due to her Close Friendships with marlene dietrich & cecil cunningham, among others -leveraged her star power to criticize the racist depictions of Chinese and Asian characters in Hollywood, as well as raise money and popular support for China & Chinese refugees in the 1930s and 40s. -face card REFUSED to decline"

[theyreonlynoodlesmikee]

hello!!

figured i’d do my introduction now. i forgot to do one when i first joined 😭

🎸

my names sev or severen! i go by marco too but i prefer sev. im 22 and im a junior in college majoring in visual arts and minoring in screenwriting! my dream is to be a screenwriter or an animator in the film industry and hopefully make my dreams come true [my dreams sound boring, i just wanna make an animated lost boys prequel and sequel].

i really love art and writing but i also do other little hobbies on the side like denim jacket making, jewelry making, sewing, etc. i also like roleplaying on the side! it helps my writing get better, i like to think.

i’m very big into the lost boys right now and likely it will stay that way because drawing them makes my brain go brr. i love other 80’s movies too [currently stand by me, the goonies, and bill and ted]. im so excited to be apart of this fandom, i was originally on tiktok and still am, my handle is theyreonlynoodlesmike, but a lot of people told me to come here in case tiktok decides to go down :(.

anyways, my inbox and messages are open [i wouldn’t mind taking small sketch requests or asks for the boys] and i’m super hyped to get to know everyone! thank you for welcoming me into the lost boys fandom!

🎸

[sirfrogsworth]

Peter McKinnon did a video with a photographer named Garrett King. And he just went on a very long rant about lazy photographers who use Photoshop and "fixing it in post."

He continues... "You can't do that in film. You can't just make a bad decision and say "Oh, I'll fix it in post." (Not true. There was plenty of editing in dark rooms in the past. And now you can scan a film photo and literally manipulate it like a digital photo.) Fix it in post drives me nuts. That statement is so played out. It drives me nuts that people say that. Cuz dude, I don't work that way."

He also says that choosing film is the "hard path" and keeps talking about how lazy photographers who photoshop are.

I love film photography. I have an old Minolta that my mom gave me that I hope to restore and use someday.

But film photographers drive *me* nuts sometimes.

IT'S NOT A COMPETITION!

BOTH THINGS ARE COOL!

This idea that their way of making art is more valid or authentic than my way of making art is just a continuation of an old school mentality that really needs to die. There are still some photographers who will bully people because they use autofocus or aperture priority mode.

I actually think learning to be really good at Photoshop is much more challenging than learning to be good at photography. Sure, there are fields like photographic microscopy and product photography that require years to master, but I've been learning Photoshop for 20 years and I feel like I have barely scratched the surface of what is possible.

I have seen people with near 0 experience take an amazing picture.

I have seen people who barely know how their camera works take consistently good photos. It's the "using only power chords" version of photography.

But I have never seen someone with 0 experience photoshop something artistically impressive.

When people say "that looks Photoshopped" as if that is an insult, it really breaks my heart. Photoshop was a huge reason for my success. My ability to lay in bed and make funny things was essential to building my blog.

My post on Karl Taylor's Clinque photoshoot had so many comments saying his work "looked photoshopped" and it was a little frustrating.

Firstly because he actually sculpts with light and isn't actually very good at Photoshop. When he takes a picture, it pretty much looks like that from the start. The rest is just minor compositing work and blemish removal.

And secondly, because that kind of product photography predates Photoshop. Karl was doing this when Photoshop was just a baby.

In fact, still life photography was inspired by Dutch paintings of fruit and shit.

They were all, "I cannot stand sitting with another yappy model for days on end. I'm sick of people. I'm just going to paint *stuff* but with really amazing lighting."

But it is also frustrating because there is this mentality that digital tools are lesser. As if digital artists just press a few buttons and cheat-code their way into good images.

It's the same mentality people have about CGI. CG artists are the modern day sculpturists. They do the same thing as Michaelangelo or Rodin, just with different tools and in a different medium. Oh, but they also animate their sculptures in thousands of frames in multiple dynamic lighting environments all while maintaining photorealism.

To me, Thanos is just as artistically impressive as the statue of David or The Thinker.

Blair Bunting is a very talented photographer who mixes incredible photographic technique and lighting with his amazing photo manipulation skills.

And while these photos may not be as "authentic" as that film photographer's picture of a dude sitting on a truck...

I can assure you no laziness was involved in Blair's process.

Also, I really didn't want to bring up disability. But it is really difficult for me to do the physical process of photography. Sometimes I do not have the energy to get the perfect "in camera" exposure. Sometimes I won't even check my settings and I will snap a picture knowing that I can make it cool with editing. I just look at the histogram, make sure the data I need is there, and do the rest on my computer.

During my adventure to photograph a bridge in Alton, I was only able to take 6 photos. Usually I will take hundreds in a session. My fatigue got the better of me and I nearly had to go to the hospital after walking up a hill. (I was having a bad day. I'm better now.) I didn't get the photos I wanted to get. And on the way down that hill, as I was out of breath, I pulled out my phone and tried to snap a pic of something cool I saw in front of me. The phone had been set 2 stops underexposed from a previous shot and so the picture was pretty much all in shadow. And because I was walking super slow, I had just missed the sun over the horizon.

But it's a RAW file. And I knew I could probably do something with it. I could "fix it in post." Not because I was being lazy. Mostly because I was trying not to hyperventilate. Apparently, my body can't handle slight inclines any longer.

And this is what I came up with.

I'm not saying this is an amazing photo. And it would have been really cool if I hadn't missed the sun. But this is what my eyes saw as I came down the hill and I was able to recreate that with digital tools.

I think that is pretty cool.