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doromoni · 2 days

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Off Track Pace | MV1 , ?

Ships Max Verstappen x presenter! Reader , ? x presenter! Reader , Platonic! Charles Leclerc x presenter! Reader

Genre : Fluff , Angst

Sub tags : mutual pinning , She fell too early , He fell too late,

Summary : A new f1 presenter and journalist has entered the paddock and she brings chaos along the way. And as competition looms , will the current Champion be as fast outside the track?

Face claim: Sofia Wylie

A/N : I’m so sorry luvs! I’m working on updating Clash of Champions , i promise ~ it’s my uni’s finals exams so I gotta focus on that first… so here’s a peace offering.

Media day, usually on a Thursday — a day that most Formula 1 drivers dread. A day where cameras followed their every move, interviews with journalists that twisted their every word and silly PR stunts forced on them by their teams. It used to be just all racing and winning podiums, but modern Formula 1 is all about media politics and sponsorships.

If you were to ask any driver on the grid if they were given the chance not to do PR, they would say yes to skipping it. But not everything about media day is horrendous.

Not when a new motorsports journalist joins the paddock that was an absolute sweetheart and delight to have around. A natural on the job — she always made sure that every driver that she interviewed was comfortable and enjoying their time with her and the segment.

the.Y/N

liked by skysportsf1 , lissiemackintosh, f1 , and 689,270 others

the.Y/N first day on the job? . i’m not nervous, you are! (She said literally shaking)

skysportsf1 Welcome to the team Y/N! ❤️

the.Y/N thank you kind employers. 🤍

lissiemackintosh Babe!! It’s finally official. Congratulations!

the.Y/N Thanks to you Babe!! I swear I would’ve been lost without you 😭

User1 who is she?

the.Y/N literally no one

User2 Ohhhh a new commentator? 🤔

User3 maybe she’s a journalist?

scuderriaferrari the kids had fun. They want their clay statues on display!

User2 Clay statues?? Hello?? Wut?

User3 Same question, Clay statues??

the.Y/N wait and see 🤷‍♀️ , the interview would drop tomorrow? Maybe~

User4 Its her first day and she literally had an interview with Charles and Carlos in Ferrari???

the.Y/N well no , the first interview was with Lewis Hamilton … so. 🤭

User5 WHAT?? Ok , queen slay!

User4 damnn , imagine being new to your field and already interviewing the big guys.

mclaren Do us next please 🙋‍♂️

redbullracing get in line!

the.Y/N gotta stop by Aston first , sorry besties.

User6 OK WHAT IS HAPPENING, ms. Y/N who are your connections 😭 i want in.

User7 why are all the teams here??

Y/N L/N was the F1 presenter and journalist who put drivers willingly out of their comfort zones and made them try something new. You genuinely loved what you do and you were passionate about it. You never showed partiality among the drivers, you treated everyone with the same attitude — this earned the respect of all drivers on the grid.

You were quickly becoming a paddock favorite. The fans enjoyed the content you put out and the drivers looked forward to your interview when they saw your name on their schedule.

Interviewing with you usually meant cheat meals and unusual activities that you thought they would like.

the.Y/N

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, and 740,155 others

the.Y/N maybe bowling isn’t the best idea. @charles_leclerc you suck, ngl. New vid out on Monday at the sky sports channel🤍

charles_leclerc i hate you ❤️

the.Y/N no you don’t 😌

charles_leclerc no, i don’t

User1 I love their dynamic so much!! I need more of the Paddock siblings pleaseee

User2 I can’t wait for more of Y/N bullying Charles into weird things and Ferrari doing nothing about it🤣

landonorris but why is charles in a cowboy costume?

the.Y/N i dunno? He just showed up in that 🤷‍♀️

charles_leclerc You told me we were riding horses and you wanted me to wear smth cowboy!!

the.Y/N oh yeah! Lmao

landonorris should i feel bad?

the.Y/N Nope. He’s happy either way. Aren’t you @charles_leclerc?

User2 NOT THE LMAO . Y/N thank you being you

User3 Y/N giving us Cowboy Charles , yes ma’am

User3 JUST DATE ALREADY!

the.Y/N EW. No

charles_leclerc Ok , the ew was unnecessary. But same. No thanks :)) i’m not dating my sister .

User4 Charles call y/n his sister 🥺

However, No matter how much you tried to keep things professional by being just a driver: journalist, something your boss commented during a quick meeting because fans kept shipping you with every driver. What you found weird is that most drivers you see as older brothers and some even uncles (don’t tell Nando). Plus most of them had girlfriends!

Nevertheless, your relationship with them seems to always end up with them hanging around your office at Sky, whenever they are free. Even the older drivers like Nando, Lewis and even Nico and Kevin use your office as an escape from the chaos of their motorhomes.

You didn’t mind hosting the older drivers in your room, as they were usually tame and kept to themselves as they read the books on your shelves in peace. They usually plop themselves down your couch and place the oversized plush you always bring on their lap. They always brought you snacks, so you looked forward to the times when their heads popped in your door and asked if they could come in.

But when the younger drivers visit your office? And if they came in groups — which they usually do. Oh boy, it was either a clusterfuck of them stealing snacks from your secret stash or your office becoming a den for hot gossip in the paddock usually led by the one and only Charles Leclerc.

Case in point. You now have Charles, Carlos, Max and to your surprise Checo in your office. The older Spanish-speaking driver was a rare visitor, but a welcome one nonetheless.

But considering the topic in discussion, you understood the presence of the two Red Bull drivers.

You were in the middle of typing away on your laptop when suddenly they barged in with ice cream tubs and spoons at hand then found a spot to sit and made themselves comfortable.

“Is Newey leaving Red Bull?” Charles asked Max and Checo, as he scooped a bite from his ice cream.

“We have no clue! Christian is saying nothing to us. Nothing” Max exclaimed exasperated as Checo nodded in agreement.

“So Adrian Newey is moving to Ferrari?” You questioned as you pointed your spoon at Charles

“Y/N, I love you like a sister and I know that you’re incredibly smart, but sometimes you are stupid. We’re clueless in Ferrari, hence my question ”

You threw your wooden spoon at the Monaco-born Ferrari driver. Which he easily avoided thanks to his fast reflexes. Freaking f1 reflexes!

“ I wasn't the person who got named for being stupid— HEY! Max give that back!! You don't even like salted caramel” You were trying to rebut Charles’ insult but were distracted when Max took your ice cream for himself.

Max just shrugged and placed his half-consumed chocolate brownie fudge ice cream in your hands — his spoon still in it. You didn’t complain further as you took his spoon and took a bite yourself. Yum! Brownie fudge is your favorite.

“Dude, what is even going on inside Red Bull? What was Horner under investigation for?” Carlos pressed on, trying to find answers. You were curious yourself

“Everyone is being weird. They’re keeping things from us. “ Checo added. You knew that they were truly left in the dark because if they knew they would’ve spilled instantly. NDAs be damned.

“Every interview, people keep asking if we know something! one more journalist and I swear I’ll run them over with my car! I hate each one of them” Max grumbled to himself.

You coughed. You knew that you were an exception but you couldn’t help but mess around with your friends.

“Don’t even, Y/N. You know you don’t count. “ Max waved you off.

“Wow! Thank you for that babe. Way to make a girl feel special” you said jokingly to the Dutch driver, as you winked dramatically. To which he only rolled his eyes — making you and the rest of the drivers laugh.

Max was immune to your flirting, unfortunately. It sucked especially when you had a tiny …. Ok big … HUGE crush on the 3 time world champion.

Max to you was like an Older brother’s best friend — Where you were the little sister crushing on him and you didn’t have a chance. You knew that like the other drivers, he just saw you as a little sister. But still you couldn’t help but fall the star driver of Red Bull.

Everything started when you brought your niece to the paddock because your sister had an emergency. You were scheduled to interview Checo in the RB motorhome and your niece was starting to feel fussy and you were slightly panicking on what to do— when Max suddenly came to your rescue and took your niece out to ice cream.

You admit you found Max attractive even before— like so damn attractive, but that was it— nothing more. But when you found Max carrying your niece in his arms as they played inside his garage, you knew that you were a goner to the charms of Max Verstappen.

You have been pinning for Max for a year now. You wished that you had the confidence and courage to just confess. But the fear of rejection freighted you, so you settled to just keep your friendship with the devastatingly handsome Red Bull champion.

As time went on, and nothing but friendship between you and Max developed — You’ve come to terms with the process of letting go of your feelings. Even when you’ve already met his mom and sister, hung out in his yacht and spent nights over his place when movie nights with Charles and his girlfriend went too late. You knew not to think anything of it.

And you were right to think nothing of it. Because not a week later, rumors had spread all over the paddock that Kelly Piquet had set her eyes on Max. You didn’t believe it at first, but when you saw with your own two eyes them engaged talking happily in his garage. The sparkle in Max’s eyes had solidified your will to move on.

A few weeks had passed and Kelly’s presence was constant in the paddock. Everyone had speculated that she had become Max’s girlfriend. But no one was sure, not even you — Max had been silent about it.

You tried to be happy for them you did. But you can’t blame yourself for wishing that it was you instead. Even to this day, you are still trying to forget and bury your feelings for Max.

“Y/N? Y/N? Oi Y/N” You suddenly were startled out of your thoughts. You forgot that you were still with the drivers in your office.

“What? Sorry, I just remembered something. What did you say?” You asked Charles as he was the one who called you.

“I asked if you had an interview today” Upon hearing the words of the Monegasque, your eyes grew wide as you remembered that you did have a job to do and you were indeed almost late.

“SHIT! I DO I’m late! “ You suddenly sprang up from your seat and quickly gathered the things you needed — while the 4 drivers looked at you with amusement.

“Who’s scheduled for you today, Y/N?” Max had also sat up from his seat and gave you an opened bottle of water.

You received the bottle from Max. You didn’t have to thank the driver — just one look from you and he knew.

The other drivers looked amongst themselves as they saw your exchange with Max. Everyone had a knowing look on their faces.

“I'm going to Mclaren today! I have the whole day with Lando. “ You said as you closed your once abandoned laptop and placed it in your bag — the one Max gave you on your birthday.

“What have you planned for Lando, Y/N?” Checo asked curiously. He still remembered his interview where you both made bracelets and stuffed toys for his daughters — his daughters loved it and went to sleep with it every single day.

“Oh! I’m taking Lando to a rage room, then drive-thru for food.” You explained happily to the older Mexican driver.

“Which part of that is the interview?” Charles had interjected

“While we eat the food in the parking lot, duh,” You said as if they should’ve already known. Well, they should by now.

“You know Y/N, Lando likes you right? ” Carlos had suddenly dropped a bomb on you. You didn’t expect it at all.

“What?” Max had suddenly said — catching all of you off guard. You didn’t understand, why Max had reacted so suddenly. But you pushed that aside for now as you continued to stuff everything you need in the bag

“What do you mean, Lando likes me?” You asked Carlos, with your eyebrows scrunched together.

“He likes you. Like you know? Take you out on dates and all that” Carlos replied as he gauged your reaction.

“Ohhhh, that’s cute! how did you even know about it, Carlos” you asked not taking any of it seriously.

“Cute?” You heard Max muttered under his breath.

“He told me. I won’t spoil anything else. I’m not even supposed to say that he likes you, but oh well.” Carlos shrugged as he finished off his ice cream.

“What do you think about Lando?” Charles suddenly asked you. The Ferrari driver leaned forward

“Will you date him if he asks you ?” Checo then joined the conversation.

“ You should say yes, I mean you two are the same-“ Charles had suddenly grown excited.

“Ok whoa, calm down dads. He hasn’t asked anything yet! “ you exclaimed

“But will you say yes if he asked?” Max then asked you, his eyes piercing your soul. After all of the other questions, Max was the one to Catch you off guard.

“Uh yes, I guess? I mean, why not? Lando is fun And he is single right … ” You were panicking so you said yes, even when you knew that you weren’t ready for anything like that since you still held feelings for Max.

“ YES! I thought that you-“ Charles wasn't able to finish his sentence when you cut him off.

“OK, bye guys! See you later. I need to go!” And just like that you were gone, leaving the four drivers in your office — not letting them question you further.

“I swear, that kid is weird.” Charles shakes his head from side to side at your actions.

“Lando likes Y/N?” Max had asked again just to make sure that he had heard the Spaniard correctly.

“ Lando is a good kid. They’ll make a good couple, no?” Checo asked no one in particular, as Max was not moving from where you left him.

“Wait, wait… since when did Lando like Y/N?” Max asked confused, looking green with jealousy. Fingers tingling as they clenched on itself

“Well he was interested in Y/N since the beginning but he backed off since everyone thought that you two had a thing” Carlos explained as he stood up and went to raid your snack stash.

“Yeah, but now you’re with the daughter of Piquet. what’s her name again? KELLY! yes, kelly. So Lando is taking his shot” Charles added

“You knew? Charles, you knew about Lando?” Max was aghast at the knowledge that was just receiving now.

“Well yeah? I was the one to encourage him to ask Y/N out. ” Charles shrugged nonchalantly. He knew about your feelings for the Red Bull driver, but he also saw how hurt you were when Max started seeing Kelly out of nowhere. Charles wanted to help his friends — specially the ones that he grew to love like his own sibling in any way that he could. Plus it was time for Y/N to have fun, and Lando Norris is exactly that.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Max was conflicted. His emotions growing uncontrollably by the second.

“ Mate, we haven’t seen you for how many weeks! You were always out with your new girlfriend. Even Y/N had no contact with you “ Carlos explained to Max.

silence filled the room, when suddenly pings of notifications sounded all over the rooms.

And Charles couldn’t help but whistle.

“Well he sure does move past” he had added.

Your story

As Max looked at his phone. Your Ig story flashed. His heart had started to hurt and the feeling of a pit in his stomach grew. it was as if someone punched him right in the gut.

And another notification ping had popped . And it only made Max’s stomach churn even further.

landonorris

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runningfrom2am · 2 days

Text

cold nights // part thirty-two

summary: the end.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n:

the end!! omg!!guys thank you so much for being here through this whole story and this was LONG!! over 110k words of a lot of nonsense but to anyone who's made it this far,, ilysm. i'm gonna miss them!! stop they were everything to me :(

ANYWAY same with LTPF if you've read that, there will be an epilogue coming soon and also definitely more oneshots and maybe bonus content that i wish i included in the original series but just didn't make the cut. so stay tuned for that!!

if you liked this series, i'm obligated as well to plug my NEXT series that's coming soon, 'requiem'!! i am so excited about it so please follow me for updates on when that will be posted!! def soon!!

just one more time i wanted to say ily, and thank you :')

see you soon!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

You keep your books tucked firmly to your chest as you walk into your first class, wearing the spare clothes you brought to Sejanus's house on Friday just in case you had to change. In case you spilled something on your white dress, or just felt the need to change- ironically enough.

Your normal seat in the front centre of the room is obviously free, considering also that you were quite early this morning. You had some readings you needed to catch up on anyway, in order to be prepared for midterms which were apparently coming up quickly.

It isn't long after you open your book before others begin to shuffle in, and much to your surprise, you feel the chair next to you pull back and see someone sit down. "Hi, Victor." The boy's voice says, forcing you to look up from your book.

Dark hair and dark eyes, you think you remember his name was Cancor. "Oh, my name is Y/N." You correct him kindly, adjusting nervously in your seat.

"I know that." He says, eyes merely slits as he seems to look past your own eyes and into your soul.

"You're... You're Cancor, correct? I don't believe we've properly met." You add, sitting up straighter.

"Crane." He states. "My last name is Crane."

"That's... yes that's a lovely name." You smile nervously, unsure what to say but still wanting to fill the silence he seemed so comfortable with. "Alliteration is such a fun thing to consider when naming a child..."

"It means spider." He states. "Did you ever meet my sister?" He asks, ignoring your nervous ramblings.

"No, no I don't believe I have. What is her name?" You ask.

"Arachne." The boy says, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly while you take a moment to wrack your mind to place it. He's acting as if you should know her, and suddenly you feel like you do.

You tilt your head slightly, allowing the memory to hit you like a freight train.

The funeral.

All you really remembered until now was being chained to a truck and paraded down the street you now recognize as the Corso, the body of his sister's tribute swinging above you while people screamed and cursed at you. Then, Coryo sang the national anthem.

"Oh, yes. Of course." You nod slightly, a frown settling over your features. "I am so sorry for your loss. Truly."

"No, you're not." He spits. "You don't care, and the fact that you're pretending to is just vile. She meant less than nothing to you and those animals- otherwise, she would still be here!"

You stammer, pushing yourself back in your seat as you grip the bottom of the chair. "No, no- I am sorry, I am. That should not have happened. It- It was horrible."

"Cancor." You silently thank the universe for your professor's quick intervention. "If you wouldn't mind returning to your usual seat and leaving Miss Y/L/N alone."

"We were just talking." Cancor replies, suddenly sweet as honey- cool and collected as if he wasn't just berating you over your faults in his sister's death.

"Go." Dr. Nero tells him again, nodding up toward the back of the lecture hall. "Before I am forced to ask you to leave."

The boy sighs in quiet frustration, slightly aggressive about his movements as he grabs his bag and stomps up the stairs.

You look up to your professor who greets the look with a curt nod and the smallest of sympathetic smiles.

It does nothing to quell the lightness you feel that usually signifies the trembling of your hands, which would soon spread. You close your eyes trying to take deep breaths that wouldn't come, but all you can see is the bodies of Arachne Crane and her tribute by the bars that had separated them. You have to open your eyes to remind yourself you aren't standing in the street, wrists still shackled to a truck. You can feel the chains weighing your wrists down to the desk as you think about it. You had almost entirely forgotten about the whole event- and the guilt of that was suddenly clawing its way up your throat. Cancor had never had the privilege of forgetting the way you had.

Quickly, you shove your books into your bag and stand, heading for the door. "Y/N." Dr. Nero's voice forces you to stop and you just turn to look at him, knowing full well you're unable to speak. "It's 8:58."

You nod slightly, looking down at the marble flooring that lay between you. "Start without me." You mumble, not giving him the chance to respond before you're leaving, accidentally bumping shoulders with some of the final students to enter.

You hadn't missed a single class yet, attendance was important, but right now you couldn't care less. Why should you even have the privilege of attending classes at the university in place of some of the academy's brightest minds who never got the chance? Like Arachne, and the three other mentors who were killed because of the games. You knew it wasn't necessarily your fault, but you understood Cancor's anger being directed at you. In a twisted way, you felt like you deserved it. They were meant to survive, you never were. Yet, here you were- a walking reminder to those students' friends and families that for some reason, they had to lose someone they shouldn't have.

You quickly pace down the nearly empty hall, trying to hold back your tears as long as you could. Feeling like you can't breathe is making it exponentially harder, and you wonder how you even walked out of the arena as it was. Adrenaline is a crazy beast- and you wished you had some leftover now. Sometimes, in moments like this, you wonder if you had used up your life's supply of the chemical the last time you were here in the Capitol.

Coryo was already running late after spending probably far too long conversing with your brother in the car, but he couldn't resist taking a detour into the arts building. He would just pass through, past your room just to glance inside and see if you were really there. Just to get a look at you.

He doesn't need to, though, turning a corner and just catching a glimpse of your hair as you disappear with a left turn at the end of the corridor. He was sure it was you.

Walking past your classroom he looks anyway, just to double-check, and as he suspected, you were gone.

He quickens his pace, taking advantage of his height difference over you to try and catch up with more rushed steps. "Y/N?" He calls out as he turns the same corner, but you're already hidden from view and the door at the far end of the hall is slamming shut.

As he continues down the corridor, a furrow knits its way into his brow. You must be headed to where you normally eat lunch, that is all that would make sense.

Without thinking, he follows. The courtyard is almost empty, aside from your frame curled up on the grass, knees tucked to your chest and bag discarded halfheartedly beside you on the damp grass. The sun casts a shadowed glow where it isn't blocked by trees or buildings in its path of rising, the grass is wet under his shoes as he quickly approaches you.

"Hey- hey, Y/N/N, it's me." He calls out as he walks up behind you. You turn your head, and then stand quickly.

"It- It's okay. I'm fine." You stammer, wiping your cheeks frantically. "You should g-go, you're already late."

"I'm not leaving you like this." He shakes his head, holding a hand out toward you as you avoid his eyes. "Tell me what happened, love. Talk to me."

You shake your head, shoulders backed to an invisible wall as you hold your palms over your face. You can't look at him right now- especially right now, when all you want is for him to hold you.

"You're okay. I'm not gonna hurt you." He whispers, taking a hesitant step closer. By now, you know full well he wouldn't hurt you. Not in the way he's saying, at least.

"You should go." You choke over the words that feel heavy in your mouth.

"Y/N, love, I told you, I'm not going anywhere." He repeats calmly.

"I want to go home." You sob. "I shouldn't have won, I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't even be alive!" You say, voice picking up in frustration. "It's not fair. Nothing is fair, nothing."

He frowns as you lower your hands, clenching your fists at your sides. "Of course, you should be here."

"You don't get it!" You snap, and you hardly even sound like yourself.

This was it. This was your breaking point.

Coryo is taken back by your outburst, almost flinching at the abruptness of your shift. He had never seen you angry- he didn't even know it was possible. Of course it was. He'd spent all this time, all this energy trying to convince people that you were human. Anger comes with that, hand in hand like your cat and the fur that's clinging to his clothes at this very moment. You couldn't have one without the other. "Then explain it to me." He urges you, trying to sound anything other than defensive.

Your eyes soften, as if you're suddenly realizing that your anger was not entirely placed on him. You shake your head. "It's not... I cannot explain it and that is the worst part." You sigh, but the rage flashes in your eyes again as you look down. "Why was it me and not any of them? Why did so many of your classmates have to die? Why did Marcus escape only to face a worse fate than the rest of us, when he tried to help me too? Why am I enrolled at this stuffy university when my spot belongs to Arachne Crane in rights?"

"Arachne Crane?" Coryo mutters, eyes widening with confusion while he wonders where on earth that came from. He shakes his head quickly to dismiss the thought. "Marcus tried to save you, yes, that could have been you who escaped, that's true- but you were too busy trying to save me. And you did." He knows better than to accuse you of regretting that. He knows you don't.

When you don't reply, just staring at him head on now, frustrated and confused, he continues. "If we're going by this unexplainable logic of the universe, I think that it was you because instead of saving yourself, you saved me. And you did it again in the arena, when you went back for Jessup when I was looking at the screen and begging you silently to just ditch him. Same exact thing when you tried to get little Wovey up into the rafters with you, and hell! When you stared down the barrel of my gun, shaking head to toe from fear just to save the life of the Mayor's daughter, who was nothing but awful to everyone!" He says, gesticulating wildly to get his point across. "I've been trying to tell you for months, Y/N. It was you because you are the only person in this whole damn country who cares about someone other than themselves."

You just shake your head, and it's frustrating to him that you're unwilling to accept what he knows to be true. "It didn't work." You sniff. "You're the only one who survived me."

"Listen to me," Coryo says, reaching out and holding your face in his hands- throwing caution to the wind regarding how he knows to handle your panic attacks. "I survived because I had to learn how to love you."

You look into his eyes, flitting your own back and forth between them in an attempt to place any signs of deception. Blue, baby blue. You find none.

"And I did. And I'll love you every day for the rest of our lives. I don't want you to think for a minute that I'm embarrassed by that fact." Your eyes are squeezed shut by the time he finishes speaking, his thumbs swiping over the tear stains left down your cheeks by anger.

"It's not your fault." You mumble, shaking your head under his hold. "I do not fault you for being embarrassed."

"I'm not." He says again. "Look at me, please, love."

You pry your eyes open to face him.

"I've... I've had all this pressure my whole life to be perfect, and now it's worse than ever and I should have never let that get pushed onto you. I want you to be happy, that's all. I want you to be free to do whatever you want, and right now, the cost of that comes with who we are in public. Do you understand?"

"Yes." You say softly, but he can see that's not fully true.

"Here, in the Capitol, everything is a social ladder. We cannot marry who we wish, we marry who we should. Rarely ever do kids here date for fun."

"Like Lucy Gray and the silly mistakes she made over and over again with Billy Taupe." You comment, trying to lighten the tension you feel radiating off his body.

"Yes." He chuckles, smiling hopefully at you, relieved that you understood. "But I want nothing more on this earth than for you to be the one I spend my life with. I want to make you happy, but first, in order to do that, you have to be someone that they will accept. And I am so, so sorry I didn't explain this to you sooner, but I want you to know I've never wanted you to change."

"We don't need them to like me to be happy. That will be an endless uphill battle, Coryo." You shake your head slightly, placing your hands over his as they slide down onto your neck.

"It will be uphill but we can do it." He assures you quickly. "You're already well-liked, we're-"

"Were you not happy in Twelve?" You ask, a sad look in your eyes.

He stops, tilting his head slightly at you. He was happy in Twelve, now that he considers it. He hadn't thought about it, he was so focused on hating everything but you that he just assumed it was awful, but really, it wasn't. Not in hindsight."Is that what you want?"

You smile in response. No one had asked in months what you wanted. What you really wanted.

"What do you want, love? I'll pack up and move us back to Twelve tomorrow if that's what you really want." He says again, nothing short of desperation in his tone.

Faced with the option, you're really not sure. Yes, of course, you'd like to go home. It was very tempting. But Coryo was right, this education was important. You imagine for a moment the life you could have back home if you stuck it out a few more years. And maybe by then, you'll be better accepted here. Maybe by then, the Capitol will be a different place, and you'll be truly happy here. With him, and he will have the power to make the games go away.

"No, no." You shake your head. "I want to do something splendid...something heroic or wonderful that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it and mean to astonish you all someday." You say, and he can tell from your change in notation that the words are not your own. It was something new, unlike what he had heard from you before. He smiles. "I want to be with you, first and foremost."

"You'll always be with me. Where you go, I follow." He assures you. "I was happy in Twelve, if only because I had you."

"That should not be enough, though." You insist.

"It has been for you, hasn't it?" He asks, and you nod, biting your tongue.

He grins. "Then I promise, love, that would be more than enough for me."

"O-okay." You agree, suddenly flushed by his stare. Coryo smiles, looking briefly at your lips as you speak. To him, they seemed more tempting now than ever.

He starts to lean in and you move your head back quickly, a worried look crossing your face and you look around. "Coryo, we-"

"I don't care." He says quickly, gently pulling you back to him and pressing his lips to yours. Consequences are the last thing on his mind right now.

You take hold of the front of his delicately pressed shirt, pulling him closer with his hands on your neck. Here, in the middle of the university courtyard with the sun shining down on your back, everything is okay and at least for now, the cold night has given way to a warm, sunny morning.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl , @dreamyysouls , @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie , @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @cascadingbliss

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

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sysmedsaresexist · 2 days

Text

Changing mindsets, from a Real Anti Endo™️

The Release of the (Pro/Endo) Golden Goose

I hope everyone from all sides will give this important, heartfelt post a read.

It's likely something you'll want to be aware of if you have a vested interest in syscourse and the validity of endogenic systems. Please give this a chance.

It's been almost three years since I started my blogs. Wow. I've been on tumblr a hell of a lot longer, but I really wasn't involved in the system community. I started out firm and loud. I probably inadvertently fakeclaimed (I went into this with the rule that I would NOT directly tell anyone they were faking, it was a boundary that I knew would ruin me socially if I crossed it, but I'm sure I probably did without meaning to), I name called and made fun of people and things. I was disrespectful to people. I invaded tags to get my message out there, though I was quick to stop once I realized I was making the tags unusable for the community I claimed to want to protect.

I learned very quickly what was appropriate and what wasn't, what I could get away with and what I couldn't. It started to become a numbers game, influenced by the risk of the post.

I made a lot of friends and a lot of enemies, and I amassed a following of over 2k. More people have come and gone from my little community than I ever thought possible. People made fanart of me, and I cherish those so deeply. I have over 300 asks because I struggle to delete the ones thanking me.

And the more I was thanked, the nicer I got, the more thanks, the nicer I got, rinse and repeat until I had trouble NOT empathizing with pro/endos. The more I was willing to listen, the more legitimate sources I came across that disproved my original ideas about consciousness. The people sharing the sources were more respectful than I thought they'd be. Things were starting to look a bit cloudy.

I talked to my colleagues about how they, as therapists, would handle some of these endos in their practice, and while their belief in the concept varied, kindness and attempts to understand was the consistent answer. When had I lost that kindness and understanding that had driven me to that field to begin with?

Colleagues, yes. For those who don't know, I have a degree in social services and counselling (plus three other degrees). It's why the current situation with the antis turning on me is so funny. I still can't get into the mindset of some of these new anti endos, I just can't imagine justifying that level of cruelty. I had lines that I wouldn't cross, and I didn't think people could be worse than me.

... That might have been a trauma thing, looking back on it.

So I got desperate.

I spoke to the actual doctors who wrote some of these papers all of us are quoting. Everyone was arguing the meaning of the words, so I went directly to the source.

Dr Colin Ross, who wrote about endogenous multiplicity in the 80s. I told him everything-- about plurals, non-traumagenic systems, syscourse, what was being debated, how I and others interpreted his words, and what I wanted to learn.

Was plurality only trauma based?

And back and forth and back and forth we went, with me asking over and over again in different ways, NEEDING to hear that it was.

But I never got that answer. He meant what he meant. He said what he said and he meant it.

That plurality was not only found in the aftermath of trauma.

And I said nothing to anyone because I couldn't reconcile it.

Don't try to read between the lines, I assure you, there isn't some hidden meaning to be found there. I can't share all of the messages because some contained personal information, but my final response will tell you all you need to know.

(It did NOT, in fact, make sense, and it took me three years to "rethink my paper" that endogenic plurality wasn't possible, I did not win that conversation, it was a dying stance that was not supported)

I've been accused of paying too much attention to my follower count, but I can't really help it. It's really scary when you make a post and see a sizeable drop. It means a lot of different things. My posts have less reach and support. I've upset people. I've done something wrong. My community is leaving me.

I'm in a weird spot, where I'm blocked by so much of the pro/endo community that I have nothing to join, and the anti endo community, who I still wholeheartedly support, continues to leave me for -checks smudged writing on hand- being too nice??

Misinformation about DID is a massive problem, and it's why I still consider myself anti endo and support that community. I relate to them in such a way that I'll always gravitate to and empathize with them.

Or at least, that's what I thought.

At this point, though, how can I not be pro/endo when Colin fucking Ross says it's possible?

I've already written about how I'm really struggling with these labels, and I love the people that have stuck around while I struggle to figure this out.

I hurt when I see the people that once supported me leave.

My (online) world is shrinking. Literally.

That's scary.

When you've watched so many turn away, you start to wonder, with every post, where is the line where the rest are going to leave? Is it this post?

I just want to be me, us, we want to laugh at the stupid crap people say, system or not, I want to talk about my disorder, I want to combat misinformation, I want to have productive, fun conversations about ideas and concepts with people who disagree and have different interpretations. I want to play devil's advocate and get people thinking. I want to be able to comment positivity and kindness on any post I see, I want to feel comfortable talking to more people about their ideas. I sympathize with anti endos, I relate to CDD systems, I still firmly believe that CDDs and plurality are different, unrelated concepts.

My priority will always and forever be the CDD community first and foremost.

However, I am a hypocrite. I have gone straight to the horse's mouth and failed. I've seen so much research that I finally get it. I'm grappling with holding on to this conversation with Dr Ross, wondering what harm I could have prevented if I'd gone public with these emails earlier.

Since when has being open to change been a bad thing?

Since when has showing respect to lived experiences been a bad thing?

What am I? What label describes this?

How do I go forward from here?

What are you going to do with this information?

I promise you, hate isn't the way forward.

#syscourse #not syscourse #pro syscourse conversation #anti endo #pro endo #anti plural #pro plural #debunk #endogenic safe #system safe #pro system

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 day

Text

As the World Turns 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, imbalanced power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your new job takes you to new places with lots of new people.

Characters: Nick Fowler, Jonathan Pine, Lloyd Hansen

Note: I know I shouldn’t have done this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

“I might hear you out,” Mr. Hansen, or Lloyd, sits back as he slurps from a rounded class of cognac, “as long as you bring this pretty little thing along tomorrow.”

You chew quietly on a piece of lettuce and look around. You search the table for whatever he means, confused by the statement. Your eyes flick up to meet his and you gulp, realising he’s referring to you. Oh.

He called you pretty but it just feels off. You give a tight-lipped smile and reach for your sparkling water. He brings his hand over the top to stop you as Fowler sighs.

“She’ll keep the minutes,” your boss grumbles.

“How about some wine, baby face?” Lloyd leans forward.

“Uh, I don’t drink, thanks,” you answer sheepishly. You’d already told him as much but it hasn’t kept him from offering more than once.

“Boring,” he mutters and retracts his hand. “Gonna be a long vacation if you don’t loosen up.”

“She’s not on vacation, she’s working,” Fowler girds as he tosses his napkin on his plate. “You’re really gonna drag this out, aren’t you?”

“Drag what out?” Lloyd winks as he sits back, gripping one leg as his other sways.

“The deal.”

“You gotta wine and dine before you get between my thighs,” the other man taunts. “What’s for dessert?”

Fowler exhales slowly, jaw tense as he eyes the other man. You glance between them then over your shoulder. Maybe the server could bring the dessert menu.

“You know I don’t sleep well in a strange land without someone to keep me warm--”

“Cut it out,” Fowler warns his acquaintance harshly, “we got an early morning.”

His chair scrapes as he stands, drawing your attention back to the table. You feel like you might wilt as you meet the heat of Lloyd’s fervent gaze. He has an elbow beside his plate, his glass in his hand as he hovers it before his mouth and stares. He sips then pokes out his tongue in a way that makes you nervous.

Your wide eyes skirt over to your boss and you push yourself from your chair.

“Just like you to cut the fun short--”

“I was on a plane half the day, I don’t have the energy for you,” Fowler takes out his wallet and drops a wad of bills on the plate, “dinner’s on me.”

“And I’d like dessert on me,” Lloyd harrumphs and drains his glass, slamming it down on the stem as he lets out a heavy sigh. He stands and tugs at his belt without shame. You sidle away and push the chair in, staying close to your boss.

“We’ll talk more. I’m not leaving without a deal, Hansen.”

“We’ll see about that,” Lloyd slaps his chest and stifles a belch behind his fist, “guess I'll hit the massage parlour again.” He rolls his neck and winks at you, “stiff from the flight.”

“Come on,” Fowler ignores whatever inference his colleague makes and spins on his heel, then gestures to you, “let’s get going.”

“Oh, uh, yes, sir,” you turn to follow.

“Mmm, yes, sir,” Lloyd mimics in a purr as you prance off.

You tap out next to your boss as he checks his watch. He raises his hands to swipe over his face and hair. He must be just as tired as you. Your excitement has dwindled to a low thrum and you’re ready to keel over.

“I want my coffee at six. Got it?” He demands.

“Yes, sir.”

“Call the front desk, have them send breakfast too. We’ll be heading off early.”

“Yes, sir,” you echo again, barely keeping up with his fast march.

“And wear a dress,” he says.

Again, you affirm his command.

He stops before a pair of double doors; wood carve in intricate patterns. He faces you and exhales, “do not fuck Hansen.”

You’re stunned by the suggestion. You raise your brows and let your mouth fall open. You sputter and shake your head, “s-sir--”

“Just don’t,” he warns. “Flirt with him but nothing more. Trust me.”

“I wouldn’t--”

“I’m not asking about your preferences, I’m giving you an order,” he turns to the door and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his card, “good night.”

“Oh, er, good night, sir,” you back off awkwardly, still scalding from his assumption.

You click down the hall in your shoes and frown. Does he really think you would do that? He said himself, you’re on a business trip. Sure, Lloyd was forward and unfocused but you didn’t encourage him at all. To be fair, you didn’t catch half of what he meant.

You get to your room and stop, feeling around your clothing as your heart drops. Oh no! You can see the cards in your mind, sitting on the table inside the hotel room. Oh, gosh, you’re so stupid.

You turn and face the hallway behind you. Of course you would lock yourself out. For everything that went so smoothly on your first trip abroad, something was bound to go wrong. Well, you’d rather this than be stranded in the middle of no where.

You push away from the door and stroll back down the hall. You find your way back to the lobby. It's eerily empty as you peer around. The high ceilings are centered by a grand chandelier and the panels between the skylight panes are painted with elaborate patterns. The night peers down at your lone entrance, making the echo of your steps even more desolate.

You go to the counter and raise your hand over the bell, wary of disturbing the peace. You tap it lightly but the ding is deafening. You wince and cry out as a body pops up from behind the counter like a jack-in-a-box.

“Eek,” you touch your chest as the manager appears like an apparition.

“Pardon me,” he puts his hands on the counter, “I was only just sorting through some things. Didn't mean to startle you.”

“No, it's…it's fine,” you giggle as your fear dissipates, “I didn't expect such a quick response.”

“Always at your service, miss,” he address you by your last name. You're flattered he remembers you. “And so I must ask how I can be of assistance.”

“Right, er, this is kinda embarrassing,” you scrunch up your lips and look at the wall, “I locked my keys in my room.”

“Ah, well, that's not the end of the world,” he waves away your worry.

You notice his jacket is disposed, folded over the unusued chair on it's tall legs, and his shirt sleeves are rolled to his elbows. He must be used to solitary nights.

“I'll come let you in.” He reaches to his belt to pull out a white card, “now this is your first wish, you've only two more after.”

You furrow your brow curiously and he gives an awkward grin, “a joke, of course. This genie does not count favours.”

“Uh, thanks,” you murmur.

He comes out from behind the desk and gestures you to come with him. You catch up as he strides breezily across the lobby. Your eyes wander the extravagant interior and you drift off in your imagination. What it must be like to work here every day.

“And are you enjoying your time abroad thus far?” Jonathan asks.

You snap back to the present and chuckle nervously, “sure, I... it’s nice so far but I haven’t been here very long.”

“Mm, yes, well I do hope you find time among your business to explore. If you have an questions, I’d be happy to answer. I even have a few recommendations if you’re interested,” he offers.

“Oh, thanks so much,” you swallow a yawn and flutter your lashes. He glances over at you as he strides on.

“And did you enjoy the restaurant?” He prompts.

“Uh yes, the food was delicious,” you chime.

“I will let the chef know you said so,” he remarks, “if you are interested in the local cuisine, there is a shop not far from here which is a touch more genuine. Though I must warn you it is spicy fare.”

“I love spice,” you smile blink long as another yawn nestles at the base of your throat.

“Well, you will let me know when you try it if you like it,” he nears your door and brings the car up to slide through the slot, “you must be terrible exhausted.”

He pushes the door open and holds it with his long arm, “just a little,” you agree, “thanks so much.”

“Never to worry, these things happen,” he assures, “the nights are lonely and I don’t mind the task.”

You smile as you step under his arm and turn in the doorway, “have a good night.”

“You too, darling,” he returns, “be sure to put your key somewhere you won’t forget.”

“Oh, yes, thank you,” you bounce on your feet and grab the door handle.

He lets go and you shut the door gently. You give a big yawn and face the room. Thankfully, you left the lamp on. You leave your shoes by the door and rub your eyes as you stagger forward. You take out your phone to check your alarms and set it a bit earlier. You won’t be getting much sleep.

🌍

You have Mr. Fowler’s coffee in hand as you stroll up to his door. You double-checked at the counter to make sure you didn’t misremember. You check your watch as you approach. Ten to six. You’re early. He’ll be impressed. He’s not very fond of lateness though you’re yet to test that yourself.

You’ve done pretty well. You got yourself up, with help from a freezing cold shower to keep your eyes open, and you look pretty good. A peachy orange blouse and a grey skort. You’re ready for the day in your mary jane flats, sparing your arches the strain of heels.

You knock and call through the door, “sir, I have your coffee.”

You look at the cup. You had it made exactly as he always get. An americano with an extra shot. You think the caffeine is a bit much but you would never say so to him. He’s your boss, not the other way around.

“Mr. Fowler?” You knock again as you stand in the hall, “it’s going to go cold--”

The door opens suddenly and your fist nearly hits Mr. Fowler instead of the door. You retract and give a sheepish grin, “uh, good morning, sir,” you gulp. He has a towel crookedly clutched around his waist and he’s dripping wet. His stomach is hard and lined with muscle, tightly knotted and glistening with moisture.

“It’s not six,” he snarls.

“Sorry, sir, I'm early. Your coffee,” you extend your arm to offer him the cup, “they are bringing your breakfast shortly--”

He grumbles and takes the cup. You let it go, hovering at the threshold as he keeps one hand on the towel. He inhales the scent of the espresso and tastes it with a moan of relief. He kicks the door shut and it snaps in your face. You step back and flinch.

He’s right. You’re early. You caught him off-guard. That much is obvious. You can’t blame him for his mood. No one likes being interrupted during a shower. You back up and stand against the wall. You’ll wait. You have no choice. You know if you disappear, he’ll be even less pleased.

Room service arrives shortly after and knock. Mr. Fowler lets them in, ignoring you as you linger, and the hotel porter leaves shortly after. You sway on your feet and check the time.

Someone else might be annoyed but you’re too excited. The shine of the new place has yet to wear off. Even if you are working, the backdrop is enough to assuage any pitfalls.

You check the time several times as you pace in the hall. You flatten yourself to the wall as another hotel denizen passes. You’re a bit awkward lurking there. You start to worry someone might see you and get suspicious. It is a bit strange to just be staring at a door.

Before your doubts can get the best of you, the doors open and Mr. Fowler emerges in a white button-up and navy slacks. He forgoes his jacket and tie for the natural climate. His short hair is tidy and a light stubble trims his jaw. He checks the time on his wrist and signals with his index.

“The car?” He demands.

“The car,” you echo and your eyes flit back and forth.

“The valet has the rental,” he snarls, “did you call for it?”

“Sorry, sir, I...” you take out your phone and scroll, “I don’t see anything in the itinerary--”

“Get the car,” he demands.

“Yes, sir,” you wince and hurry ahead, “will do.”

You scurry out of his sight and clamour into the lobby. You search around and see a new face behind the counter. Jonathan must be done his shift. You ask about the valet and they point you outside.

You ask for Mr. Fowler’s car and wait near the ramp of the garage. You should’ve known. You booked the rental car and all that. You’re going to blame it on jet lag.

Mr. Fowler appears at an easy pace, a hand in one pocket and the other around his phone. He doesn’t look up as he approaches. He stops a few feet away and sighs, once more peeking at his silver watch.

“On it’s way, sir,” you assure him.

He slips his phone into his pocket and squints at you. You give a shaky smile. You hate when he looks at you like that. It feels like he’s judging you. Well, he definitely is.

“I told you to wear a dress,” he says as he reaches to touch the collar of your blouse.

“Oh, sorry, sir,” you blanch. You must have forgot amid your late night chaos. You feel a surge of panic and quickly check your purse. You have your keys. “Do you want me to go change?”

“It’s fine,” he turns you by your shoulders and pinches your top button. He undoes it and you try to look down at his hands, only to go cross-eyed. He clucks and undoes the next one, leaving the satin to hang low on your chest. “That will do.”

You resist the urge to redo the button and you shrug, trying to hike fabric higher on your shoulders. You are overtly aware of your cleavage. It’s not very professional.

“Sir,” you bring your phone up again, “I think my data isn’t working. I can’t see the itinerary.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he turns as a sleek black car pulls up before you, “just get in.”

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chaithetics · 3 days

Note

GIRLLLL OMGGGG YOUR MONEKY MAN FIC HELLO?? HELLOOOO???? so good. i just came back from watching it and wtf. now that is how u direct and that is how u make a profound film. (i’m glazing him and this film so hard but idc i just want 1 chance dev PLS JUST GIMME 1 ONE IS ALL I NEED) also r u indian? cuz when i saw the “jaan” i read it it in his voice and my knees literally almost hit the ground like i was like 😧🌚😜😍🤭🤭😋😋🤤🥰 the whole time!!! if i may, can i request another monkey man fic/drabble/whatever u wanna make it but it’s about how they met? basically like a backstory on how they met and got together. thank youuu! 🫶🏽

Blood-Stained Meetings, Nauseous Introductions

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x reader Word count: 2.6K Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mentions of anxiety, injuries/blood, longing, reader has no physical description, a kiss, no smut. Not proof or beta read. A/N: Hey lovely Nonnie, so glad you enjoyed the film! It's so good! Dev Patel is so talented. I hope you and everyone else reading this and in the fandom enjoys this fic! 🫶(Please do and validate me, I'm scared it's TERRIBLE and I'm not happy with this, genuinely terrified lol) Comments, reblogs etc. are always more than appreciated and encouraged! Enjoy 🥰 Gif by @junkfoodcinemas Somewhat inspired by an old chat with the talented @mittos about how reader would probably hate seeing him fight, and tagging @lialilalo because I feel bad about ending up taking a week to get this out since your ask!

Sure, there were probably worse ways to spend a Friday night, but you also knew that there were definitely much better ways to spend a Friday night as well. But you simply weren’t the kind of person who did better things on a Friday night, that wasn’t in your DNA. Obviously. This was your brother's idea of fun after all.

It didn’t surprise you that this was how your adult brother wanted to spend the start to his weekend and drag you along, or that this was a frequent pastime of his. It didn’t mean that it horrified you any less though.

You’d sighed and dreaded this for hours, days probably, subconsciously.

Yet, you still were here. You’d changed out of your work clothes for this, you’d tried to make yourself as presentable as possible when you knew it was an effort you’d see reflected in your brother. You were dreading leaving your home and having to blend into the sea of bloodthirsty betters you were about to find yourself in.

You walk with your brother and one of his friends into the building, it’s large and crowded. Everyone is packed in like sardines as they yell about what odds they’re betting on, who’s the biggest and strongest, who’s the most nimble-footed and quickest, and who is the immediate runt of the competitors. You can already feel yourself becoming stressed, at this environment. You don’t understand the appeal of this but you understand how it can become a reality with the world that you’re all in.

The heat stings your face like a slap, as you stand there, close to your brother so you don’t get split up in this sea and he rambles in your ear about who he placed a bet on, how they usually do. All of the information that seems so important in a moment like this to everyone else. But you’ve seen enough blood, you don’t need to be fascinated by people getting bloodied up like this. It’s a privilege that you’ve been able to avoid this your whole life.

If you were seeing this at home, or if it wasn’t so packed in here tonight, you’d feel a little less self-conscious. And if you felt a little less self-conscious, you’d be chewing on your nails, all the way down to the nail bed. Until you felt the all too familiar sting of going too far. You give your hand a little shake to try and get rid of that urge, now’s not the place or time to wear your nerves on your sleeve. So instead, you try to offer up a small smile to your brother as he leads you to a spot on some benches nearby.

The bench is relatively close to the ring, but it’s good, you’re already overstimulated and trying to make it up further to higher seats isn’t an idea that agrees with you right now, and it surely promises you a quick exit if needed. You look around, the dim lighting further adds to everything, your eyes scan the faces of those in the crowd and you look out at the ring. It’s big, you think, but you’re not sure if it’s a standard size or not for this sport.

An announcer enters the ring, he looks sleazy and has a large, sly smirk pasted onto his face, one that makes you uncomfortable. You look at your brother to try and share a knowing glance but he’s focused on what’s in front of you both. You let out a quiet sigh as you tilt your head back to focus on what’s in front of you.

The announcer opens his mouth and he speaks in a South African accent, that surprises you and you can’t help but look at your brother again. He announces himself as Tiger. This night is already so random, and you have a feeling that it’s only going to get more wild.

“He’s the owner.” Your brother says as he tilts his head to whisper loudly in your ear. You can hear him over the whooping, clapping, and chants that have started. You nod as you look back at the ring, trying to pay attention to what you’re going to soon witness. Despite how overwhelming it all is.

Tiger then introduces a fighter who’s dressed to almost look like a reptile, he’s introduced as King Kobra and gets a warm, adoring welcome from the audience with thunderous applause and cheers. You don’t clap as you can’t help but look around instead, taking it all in. It’s a lot and there’s so many people here, here just for this.

Tiger then starts to introduce King Kobra’s opponent, his voice changes and it’s tinged with an antagonising disgust, he’s clearly trying to rile the audience up into booing, and not rooting for whoever it is. You can’t help but feel your curiosity grow at that. It feels childlike how it’s said, but you see the audience respond just as Tiger wishes. The opponent is Monkey Man, he quickly comes out and makes his way into the ring. He moves quickly and he bounces on his feet for a moment as he gets further into the zone. He stands there, waiting for the noise to confirm it’s the start, the start of a fight where he can maybe get one or two punches in before he has to keel over for his pay. Pay that he’ll probably have to bargain for.

He stands in the ring and he can’t help but spend a second focusing on the face he sees in the front row. Kid is sure he hasn’t seen that face here before, it’s a pretty face, but he can’t help but notice the anxiety pooled in those eyes or your body language. He tilts his head slightly, it doesn’t seem to be the kind of anxiety some of the gamblers here have before the match, the ones who are risking it all for an expensive thrill and painful rush, to live vicariously through him and the other men adorned in animal masks and names.

Kid turns his head away from you and tries to focus back on his work. You don’t even notice that the man in the ring has been staring at you, taking you and your nerves in for a few, long but oh so short seconds.. How could you? With that mask? You can’t see his face, but you can see there’s a lanky figure standing there, hiding under the mask and donning the monkey man mantle. He’s tall and slender but you can see there’s some muscle on his arms, from what you can see of the sweat and blood-stained undershirt he wears, his chest is toned as well.

You don’t know it yet, but you can feel something realign, change in this moment. You’re just not sure what it is, or if this feeling is even real, or if it’s just another symptom of somatic anxiety. Right now, you think it’s probably just that.

After almost another minute of the crowd booing Monkey Man and chanting out for the King Kobra, the match begins. Each of the men takes a moment to size the other one up, watching the other’s moves before the first hit lands. It’s King Kobra, he strikes Monkey Man.

King Kobra goes to throw another punch, he moves quickly and he’s very agile, yet Monkey Man somehow dodges this one. His landing with the dodge isn’t perfect, but it gets him out of the way. He throws a punch to King Kobra and the crowd erupts into boos at that. It’s even more louder and clearer than before who they’re all rooting for and aren’t. The crowd’s response seems to motivate King Kobra as he quickly moves and starts to deliver blow after blow.

You barely feel the noise of the crowd’s screams of joy and cheers as this happens and King Kobra gets his footing back. Your eyes widen as you watch, you see blood starting to fall as Monkey Man loses his way in this match.

You let out a gasp as he falls to the ground. King Kobra slithers around the ring, posing and feeding off of the crowd’s response before he goes in for the kill shot. He delivers it and you feel yourself slightly jump. It’s terrifying to you, you don’t see the appeal in this, you can only start to mentally list off all of the physical trauma this causes. You sigh as you watch King Kobra be declared the winner of this match, it sounds like a recurring event, you gaze over at your brother who looks ahead with a large smile of awe, obviously happy with whatever return he’s getting on the bets he’d made beforehand

Monkey Man slowly tries to limp his way out of the ring and backstage, you look at your brother and quickly whisper that you need to check on this man. You have to, it’s basically a moral and ethical obligation. Your brother sighs and nods, you quickly move off of the bench and it doesn’t take much for you to catch up to this masked man. “How are you feeling? I’m a nurse.” You say to him and he nods slowly, you can hear his ragged pants from under the mask, the mask is drenched in sweat along with the rest of his body.

As you slowly walk backstage with him to the locker room that’s pungent with the sweat of costumed men masquerading as animals and characters you’d find in The Ramayana. There’s blood stains visible throughout the floors and walls, and you can taste the copper of the crimson in the air, impossibly so. You don’t know how but you can. You ignore these other bodies floating in your periphery as you walk to a sink with the Monkey Man, he leads the way, naturally.

As you approach the sink together he immediately puts his hands on the edge and spits out a thick string of blood, you’re used to seeing blood but in this context, you can’t help but feel your nose screw up a little. It’s awful.

He tilts his head to look up at you, your eyes meet him and you offer him a small smile and give him your name. He looks at you, taking in the way that your lips curl up and how they do so genuinely. He gives a small nod, one you’d have missed if you’d blinked just a few seconds earlier. He just tells you that his nickname is Kid. Maybe he’s been fighting since he was very young. You don’t ask. Not yet.

You turn the faucet on at the sink, to try and wash his blood away so that you can start trying to clean the damage of tonight’s fight, off of him.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, he knows you’re not the type of person to come to these events. You’re not a regular and it’s clear from your face, you’re not a fan of these displays of violence.

“My brother. It’s his birthday this weekend.” You say quietly as you wipe the blood off. “Have you broken your nose?” He looks up at you with a small smile, it makes sense. Your brother was probably the man beside you, he thinks. Kid can’t quite remember his face. He then shrugs at your question. His nose doesn’t feel too bad right now, but he knows he’s probably broken it at some stage.

“You’re not sure?” You ask him, he shakes his head. You immediately notice how quiet he is, but despite his silence, his eyes are so reactive and expressive that you feel like you know more than what his words could give you.

“Do you have issues breathing? It doesn’t look bad, there’s just a small scar there. They often heal pretty well on their own.” You say as if to reassure him, even though you know that it probably isn’t something that would bother him. There wouldn’t be much he could do now anyway about that. You don’t like that thought.

Kid stays there perfectly still as your stomach is now over its nausea and your hand touches his skin so gently as you try to offer him some kindness, some respect, some dignity, some simple compassion and care. His eyes soften as he realises that and looks up at you. There’s a glow from within you, even in the artificial lighting of the locker room and it’s easy for him to block out the chaos in here and focus on your gentleness.

He’s barely ever touched, except for when a blow hits in a match, it’s never this gently. He doesn’t even know how to show himself that level of care when he bandages himself up at the end of each night that he fights.

There’s not much of a conversation as you bandage him up but somehow, you don’t really notice it and it’s completely okay with you. There’s a comfort in his quietness, his stillness. It’s one he finds in you as well, perfectly requited. You put a hand on his arm gently as you just finished putting a bandage on him. He takes your hand slowly, and he examines it. You’ve never had someone look at your hair, analysing every hair on your knuckles and by your wrist. It’s a unique way to be seen. He then takes your hand and gently turns it over, taking his time as he does. Kid looks at your palm, at all the lines on it and his eyes follow and travel amongst every single last one. A million lifetimes. A million dreams. He runs his finger along them, just to confirm as he thinks about the roots of your skin, how they run along to the softness and travel over calluses. “That’s your future.” He says softly as he looks at your hand, running his fingers along the lines. He then looks up at you, and his big, beautiful brown eyes meet your orbs. “It’s your past, everything.” You’re not sure what it is that he sees. You’d like to know but you also think you’d be content living without that and just his opinion on everything else in the world. But still, you want to see with his eyes.His fingers stop running over your palm and you feel your cheeks heat up at the intensity of this, his eyes have softened and there’s something else there. Something you don’t quite know. Is it longing? You’re not sure. You feel a deep, soul-aching longing, he does as well and always has. You just haven’t arrived at the stop yet for that to be communicated with words. Now all there is just looks, longing looks from a man with the most beautiful big, brown eyes in the world. You could melt in them, swim in them, drown in them. All of the above and you’d never complain.

You don’t know who makes the first move first, it just feels natural, like gravity. Some kind of natural force that slowly pulls your lips together that you both know is right. His hand gently cups your cheek as you feel his lips. They’re slightly chapped but you don’t mind. The kiss is soft and delicate and you like it. You need it and so does he. Everything feels so natural right now. Perhaps this is something he saw in the palm of your hand. You don’t know what it is yet, but you’re certain that this mask-wearing monkey man is part of that future he just talked about.

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writerpetals · 2 days

Text

just like the movies | 🔞

; optional male lead smut | ☁️

// it's here it's here! the first thing i've written in SO long so I hope it brings you some entertainment hehe i decided to go with a sweet, silly fluffy single parent au smut for this one to get me back in the swing of things! i'm also going to try to queue some stuff for the week until i get to write more this weekend (i have a 4 day weekend this week so yay! writing time! this is why i love my job, i only work 3 12 hr days, then 4, then 3, switching every week haha) thank you for all the support! <333

Settling down into the scratchy polyester seat of the concert venue, you look over at the excitement on your daughter’s face. Ava can’t contain the wide smile and bubbling anticipation of seeing her very first concert, with her favorite band in the world. She twists one of her braids around her little finger before pushing her glasses up a little farther on her nose.

“I swear if Asher looks at me I’ll die!” she exclaims, bouncing in her seat just a few minutes before the show is scheduled to begin.

Your ten-year-old daughter might be getting way ahead of herself for her age considering her favorite boy band, including her favorite member, is years older than her, but who are you to dim her excitement? You were a fangirl once, too. Even if boy bands aren’t your thing anymore since you’ve grown up, one thing you do love is seeing Ava happy, as well as spending a fun night in town doing whatever you can to spend time with her.

“I hope so,” you say to her, smiling. She giggles and pulls out your cell phone she borrowed for the night to take a few pictures of the two of you.

As you’re smiling and posing in your selfies, the seat next to you shifts a little with the weight of someone sitting down. Within the view of the phone screen as Ava snaps away, you notice the man now sitting on the other side of you, whispering something to his just as excited daughter.

Or, you assume it’s his daughter at first, and the assumption is confirmed when she squeaks her thank you to him for bringing her to see her favorite band, and calling him the best dad ever!

Your smile widens a little at that. You’re not the only parent tagging along just so your daughter can have a fun, memorable night. Your heart melts a little, guessing the last place he wants to be is seeing a group of teen boys singing and dancing, but he’s here for her.

You only wish Ava’s father could be so attentive to her. You don’t want to cloud the night with bad thoughts and memories, but you can’t help to have flashbacks of all the ways her mostly absent father failed her when you see another showing up for their daughter. Envy, guilt, and the what-if’s hit you hard, wondering what you could have done differently to make a difference with your own family before it fell apart.

The bad thoughts quickly fade once the speakers start blasting the band’s latest hit while showing pictures of the boys on a huge screen ahead. Ava jumps up and screams. So does the girl sitting two seats to your left, as well as most of the attendees around you. You decide to stay seated, knowing you’re taller than most of the little girls around you, not wanting to block anyone’s view.

The grinning dad next to you does the same, remaining seated as he watches his daughter’s excitement.

“First Dreamwave Boys concert?” you ask him with a grin, leaning over a little so he can hear you over the singing. He turns to you, looking a little surprised that another parent is sitting next to him for the night. He smiles wide, and you can’t help but to finally notice how handsome the man is. His smile is charming and his eyes are warm and inviting.

“First timer, here,” he jokes with a chuckle, and his voice is smooth like honey, earning a little heated flush to your cheeks. “How about you?”

“First time here, too.” He smiles wider at your answer. “Ava just loves Asher, so I had to splurge on tickets.”

“My little Jayda here loves Noah so much that I love Noah by association. Never knew I’d know everything about some teenage boy band member down to their birthday and zodiac sign, but here we are.” A genuine laugh loudly escapes your lips, so he continues with a big smile. “Noah is a pisces, by the way. Highly creative and compassionate.”

You can’t stop your giggles as the arena full of singing girls drowns out around you. At least you would enjoy the company tonight while your daughter got lost in her own little world. As your laughter settles, you tell your concert buddy for the night your name, as he does the same. Butterflies flood your stomach when he takes your hand in a gentle, friendly shake of introductions.

Then you tell yourself to snap out of it. This is someone’s father, probably married, and you know you shouldn’t be getting butterflies over a handsome stranger. Maybe it’s because you haven’t talked much to other men since your ex left the two of you. Maybe it’s the way he’s so invested in his daughter’s interests, you wonder, but it shouldn’t matter either way. You’re here for Ava. Not to flirt with probably-married-dads.

“Your husband didn’t want to come?” he suddenly asks as the countdown for the concert begins. Your heart nearly stops. That was forward… way more forward than you were expecting.

“No husband,” you reply with a shrug after giving your heart a few seconds to calm down. “Just me and my girl.” You look over at Ava anxiously counting down the seconds, a big grin on her face and an even bigger one on yours. When you look back to him, he’s sporting a small smile and an understanding in his eyes.

He says nothing, however, as the beat to Dreamwave Boys’ debut single blasts through the venue and the screaming intensifies. The boys pop out from a lift in the stage floor and the crowd immediately starts singing along. Even you can’t help but to nod your head and mumble some of the lyrics to the parts you know.

Neither of you can hear much to say anything else to one another for a while, only silently bobbing heads and tapping feet along while both of your daughters’ scream all the lyrics beside the two of you. It’s not until he’s suddenly moving out of his seat does he lean closer to whisper and ask watching Jayda and that he’ll be right back.

You nod and give him a smile, and he’s off down the aisle. His daughter Jayda looks over at you with a big grin, then notices Ava at the same time. The two girls wave at each other, with Ava being the more forward one out of the two as she steps closer to introduce herself.

“Asher looks so good tonight!” she squeaks to Jayda, and you can’t help but to giggle.

“Okay, but Noah’s outfit during “Summer Crush”?! Hello?!”

At this point, an interlude video plays on the big screens so the girls can chat for a moment about the show. Your heart thrums away in your chest at the sight. You love nothing more than seeing your little girl happy and in her element, enjoying herself and making new friends. How did she become such a social butterfly?

You wish you could say the same as Jayda’s dad finally makes his way back to his seat, but realizes it’s now being occupied by your own daughter. With a chuckle, he happily sits in Ava’s seat on the opposite side of you, a few waters and snacks in his arms.

“I see our girls are bonding over boys that are too old for them,” he comments, making you laugh and shake your head.

“Ava’s going to make friends wherever she goes,” you tell him, glancing over to see the two girls huddled together and giggling over a silly video of the boys playing on the screen that shows some backstage access footage.

“Wish my Jayda was the same, but she’s a little shy. I’m always grateful for girls like Ava that bring her out of her shell.” With that, he’s handing over the waters to you to pass along. “Got you girls something to drink. Need to stay hydrated.”

Your heart practically bursts as he hands over three waters, two to pass along, and one for you to keep. “Oh gosh, thank you!” You say, getting Ava’s attention so the two girls can receive their bottles. She happily accepts them with a thank you to him, then turns to Jayda and starts giggling. Jayda looks at you, then at her dad, then at Ava before she returns the same laughter, and suddenly they’re whispering something you can’t hear.

“The snacks are for us,” he then says, earning your attention to see a pack of chocolate candies in his lap. “Figured it would help pass the time.”

A warmth settles over you as you watch him open the pack, then offer you some before himself. With a thankful smile, you take a few pieces and pop them in your mouth.

“Thank you,” you say, cheeks heated as his smile widens. “That’s really kind of you. I’m surprised your wife isn’t here at the concert, too.” Now you’re the one to be forward, but it’s been bothering you since the two of you started talking. Not that there’s anything wrong with a father taking his daughter to a concert, it’s only unusual.

“Jayda’s mom and I aren’t together,” he tells you honestly. “It’s my weekend to have her, and it was her birthday, so we’re celebrating together by being here.”

The two of you look at your girls at the same time, completely in their own little world as the intermission video begins to end and the show resumes.

“Well, she’s celebrating by spending time with her little boy band boyfriends and I’m just tagging along,” he corrects. You laugh louder than you have the whole night, and the satisfied smile on his face says he’s proud of it.

The show carries on without either of you being able to say much from all the noises and screaming, but you drink your water you’re now grateful to have, and snack on some of his candy with him. Jayda and Ava have instantly become best friends in the span of an hour as they dance and sing while holding on to one another.

The power of boy bands, you think.

The show lasts another forty-five minutes, with a fifteen minute encore and about five more minutes of saying bye to their fans, then everyone is hustling out of their seats.

“Mommy!” Ava begins bouncing toward you, still completely full of energy and excitement. “Thank you, thank you, thank you for such a fun night! I got to see Asher and I met my new best friend, Jayda! Oh, give your number to her dad so we can hang out again! Please, please, please, pretty please?!”

She’s almost too much for you to handle. Sitting through the screaming and the loud music has you on the precipice of a migraine, but for her, you’d do anything. As you make your way out of the venue crowd, you look behind to see the father and daughter walking close.

“Sounds like a plan,” he says, looking down at Jayda to see her bounce with her own excitement. How could you say no to that? Plus, he seems like a genuine, sweet guy. Ava’s own father wouldn’t be caught dead at a place like this. Most of the time he doesn’t even care about her birthday, only getting a card in the mail you can tell was filled out and sent by Ava’s grandmother from the both of them.

Before the thought has you burning with rage, you smile and accept the offer to give him your number. You hand him your phone so he can put his own contact information in, then the girls say their goodbyes, you tell him thanks once again, and you’re off your separate ways.

***

Turns out, the two don’t live that far away from Ava and you. If it weren’t for the girl’s school and after school activities, as well as both of your work schedules, you would have a hang out date set for your daughters. The two of you text back and forth, trying to make time for the girls to meet up and do something fun, but even a week after the concert there are still no concrete plans made, yet.

Still, you don’t mind texting him that much. He surprised you the day after the concert when he sent a simple text to you.

Did you know Noah’s favorite movie growing up was Spy Kids?

You read the text at work and nearly busted out laughing during a meeting. You don’t think someone has made you laugh so much in such a short period of time in so long. You can’t even remember the last time you texted a man so casually. Since Ava’s father left, your life has been her and only her, so when he keeps texting just to say something silly, you can’t help but to give in.

I like knowing you’re laughing and smiling. Makes me happy.

A few weeks after the concert, with a few failed attempts to plan a fun activity for your daughters and a few more fun and pointless texts in between, his message takes you by surprise. You aren’t sure how to take it. He is a saint, so it appears. Maybe he’s only being nice. Maybe he understands the struggles of being a single parent and trying to do your best.

It might be coming from a place of sympathy, not flirting, you think. You shake the thoughts away as you sit at your desk. It’s a quarter to three, your work is done for the day, and you need to leave to pick Ava up from school soon. You have nothing to do but overthink about his messages.

What if he is flirting? Your mind wonders and then wanders. He’s incredibly attractive. Your heart begins to race thinking of him the night of the concert, a tight t-shirt on and jeans. So casual, yet it’s making your skin hot when you picture it now.

I like when you make me laugh.

Your text is quick and short. You press send before you can back out. There’s nothing wrong with getting to know the person your daughter will be hanging around, right? You reason with yourself that you’re not doing anything wrong. You’re both single. You have a common interest: Ava and Jayda. He seems sweet and he is incredibly charming as well as funny. It’s completely fine.

Then maybe we need to speed up these plans of getting together… for our daughters, of course. How about a movie night next week?

Your heart nearly stops. He has been up front and direct since you met him. Maybe that’s another thing you like about him, as well. It’s clear he isn’t shy about putting himself out there, which only makes your message back to him easy.

How about next Friday?

***

Ava is thrilled to get the news she will be seeing her new bestie soon. Having a friend she doesn’t get to see at school made you finally crack and get her the cell phone she’s been wanting so she can message Jayda whenever she likes (within reason, of course).

The two of them aren’t the only ones that have been talking back and forth for a little over a month. He texts you nearly every day at this point. Sometimes it’s not even about Jayda or Ava. Sometimes, he’s just asking about your day. One afternoon, you even spilled to him the troubles you were having at work, and he let you vent. There was another time he sent you pictures of the car he was fixing up after informing you he was a mechanic, and has been so for about thirteen years.

The sight of his veiny arms in the shot with grease streaks did nothing to settle the attraction you’ve been feeling for this man. With every text, your feelings only grow stronger. You wonder how that can be when you’ve only been around him once, but each day with your messages back and forth, you get to know him a little better.

You walk into the movie theater on a Friday evening with Ava at your side and butterflies filling your stomach. It’s silly, really, to be so nervous when it’s only a movie night for your daughters, but you would be lying if you weren’t a little excited as well.

Okay, a lot excited, and it doesn’t help that when you see him in the arcade with Jayda playing against each other in a racing game, your heart swells. The pair are laughing while clutching their fake steering wheels, until he swerves into a fence post near the racing track and Jayda comes in first. For a moment, you watch the two, until Ava pulls you into the arcade.

“How are you so bad at driving, daddy? Someone needs to take your license!” Jayda throws her head back and laughs. Meanwhile, he can only shake his head until he spots the two of you.

“Hey, you made it!” There’s smiles on everyone’s faces as you say your hello’s. He reaches out his hand a moment later to drop a stack of coins in Ava’s palm. “You girls go have some fun. Movie starts in thirty.”

Then the girls are off, leaving you alone with him for just a bit. The two of you step away from the arcade to get away from all the music and flashing lights, finding a quiet corner near the concession counter to talk while still keeping an eye on the girls.

For a moment, he only looks at you, one side of his mouth raised in a smirk. The worries of maybe having something on your face arise, until you notice his eyes rake down your body adorning a faded band tee and skirt, then back up to take in your lips, and finally he meets your gaze.

“What?” Your body burns beneath his stare. Weeks of texting with him couldn’t prepare you for seeing him face to face again. The tension builds so thick between the two of you so suddenly, it nearly becomes hard to breathe. You take in his tight t-shirt once again, casual jeans, and hair so messily styles it looks perfect. His gorgeous grin widens before he finally replies to you.

“No way you could have gotten more gorgeous since the last time I saw you.” Heat washes over your body at the words. You weren’t expected such a forward compliment right from the beginning, but you assume he’s not one to beat around the bush. You realize you like that about him even more so, though your heart is racing. It’s been so long since you’ve paid any man’s advances attention. Insecurities arise at the thought of dating again since it’s something you haven’t considered in so long.

“Oh, um,” you begin, brushing loose hair behind your ear, “thank you.”

“Sorry,” he immediately replies, catching you off guard. “Sorry, that might have been too much. It’s just I haven’t really connected with someone like this in so long and—”

He’s cut off by a familiar voice calling your name, snapping you out of the moment. Dread instantly replaces any and all butterflies. Your racing heart falls to the pit of your stomach. You know there’s only one man that could ever do that to you.

“Bryce?” The frown is evident on your face as you stare at your ex, Ava’s father, the man that walked out on the two of you and would rather come to the movies with whatever new chick he found than his own daughter. If you’re honest, he makes you sick, but he also has a way to make you feel so small, you could never stand up to him. Maybe that’s why he left. You couldn’t fight for him to stay in the way he wanted or needed. At least, that’s what his mother had said about you.

“What are you doing here?” Bryce looks at the two of you, sizing him up and down before turning back to you. There’s a woman next to him that you’ve never seen, but she appears uninterested as she taps away on her phone.

“Well, I don’t know what you typically do at places like this, but we’re here to watch a movie.” He clearly has no problem sizing Bryce up as well, and from his tone you realize he doesn’t like much of what he sees.

“What? A date?” Bryce’s tone is more than mocking. As if he wants to make it clear he’s surprised by the fact that someone else would be into you. Another way to make you feel small. You aren’t even together anymore, but he still wants you to be that insecure girl he met when you were a teenager.

“Yeah,” he replies to Bryce, wrapping an arm around your shoulders after stepping closer to you, “a date. Is there a problem with a guy taking his girl and her daughter to the movies?”

Now Bryce’s eyes go wide. Your heart hammers away in your chest. You don’t like this situation. Not at all. You only wanted a relaxing, fun night for the girls and to hang out with a possible new friend.

“Ava is here? Where is she?” Bryce looks around, but you assume he hasn’t noticed the girls playing DDR in the arcade since their backs are to you all. You’re thankful for that. It’s never good when Ava sees her father. It only drills in the fact that she hardly ever does, and it gets her down for a while. If you can protect her from that sadness, you would do anything.

“The movie should be starting soon,” you turn to him to ignore Bryce and his question, forcing a smile. “Should we get some drinks and popcorn?”

“Alright, then,” Bryce says before anyone can get another word in, because of course he has to be the last one to get his word in. “See you around. Tell Ava I said Hi.”

You won’t be doing that, you decide, as Bryce and the woman thankfully go to the opposite side of the theater. You watch as he wraps an arm around her to pull her close before leaning in and placing a kiss against the side of her head. She remains glued to her phone, but you can finally sigh in relief.

“Thanks.” You turn back to him, too embarrassed and insecure to meet his gaze. “You didn’t have to do that for me.” His arm falls from your shoulders, but he suddenly takes your hand in his, caressing your skin with his thumb in such a gentle motion you nearly melt. It’s been so long since you’ve had even the tiniest bit of intimacy, it's evident in the way your cheeks flood with warmth.

“First, you don’t need to thank me. No one is going to disrespect you in front of me.” He says it so matter-of-factly you nearly want to cry. You can’t remember the last time someone has stuck up for you so boldly with so much certainty. “And second, I kind of like the idea of you being my girl. One day, I mean. Like I was trying to tell you before, I haven’t connected with anyone like this in so long. I honestly thought I forgot how to even flirt, so that’s why I might have come on too strong. Believe me when I say this isn’t usual for me, or something I always do. I just feel like everything is right when I talk to you and the past few weeks getting to know you have been the best parts of my day recently.”

His confession leaves you speechless. It’s all the things you have been feeling but have been too afraid to even admit to yourself, let alone say out loud. This man really does wear his heart on his sleeve, you realize, but you know as you get older, there’s no point in playing games or leaving people guessing. Another green flag in endless green flags you’ve noticed since you first laid eyes on him. You wonder when the ball will drop when it’s too good to be true, but in the moment you decide you don’t care. If he’s willing to be so open with you, you’re willing to take a chance on something new.

“I feel the same way,” you tell him with a shy grin, earning a wide, satisfied smile in return. His shoulders relax a little in relief, you assume. Maybe he wasn’t as confident as you thought, but it’s only another thing you have in common. “This is so unlike me to even do something like this, but to be honest, when I saw you with Jayda that first night, I just felt something right inside of me.”

Before either of you can explore the feeling that’s bubbling in the moment, the girls come running over with a big, purple stuffed teddy bear.

“Look what we won at the ring toss game!” Jayda excitedly shows the two of you as she holds the teddy bear up.

Ava stands next to her grinning. “We named him Starlight!”

“That’s Dreamwave Boys’ first song they ever came out with!”

“Jayda’s going to keep him first! Then I will next!”

“We’ll switch back and forth every time we get to see each other!”

They’re speaking so fast you can barely keep up. He can only laugh next to you with a nod of approval.

“Sounds good, girls.”

In between all the excitement, you didn’t realize he was still holding on to your hand. It doesn’t take the girls long to notice. They each look at your hands, to your faces, then to each other. The sly grins that come across their features next don't go unnoticed, so you try to slowly pull your hand away with a nervous chuckle.

“Let’s go get some popcorn, okay?”

They both nod in agreement, but as you’re walking up to the concession counter, Ava leans over to Jayda, thinking you can’t hear her. “Oh my gosh, if our parents get married that would make us sisters!”

He nearly chokes on his laugh while walking next to you, but you can only focus on the way your face swells with warm embarrassment.

***

Lately, you've felt so unlike yourself. When you think about it, you know before you met him you would have never been so open to a new friendship so quickly with a stranger, let alone text back and forth for over a month and go on a movie date.

So it shocks you weeks after your movie date as you get ready for him to come to your house, not being able to hold back your nervous, yet excited grin as you powder your cheeks with blush and do final touch ups to your hair. Since Ava is at her grandmother’s house for the weekend, you decided to put yourself out there and invite him for dinner. You told yourself it wouldn’t hurt since the girls would be seeing more of each other eventually and most likely hanging out, but you can’t lie to yourself. You want to see him again.

It’s only a little after seven when he shows up on your doorstep, bottle of wine in one hand, flowers in the other.

“Evening, gorgeous.” Your heart soars with the compliment, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide. The way this man can make your heart flutter from a few simple words…

“You shouldn’t have,” you say, grabbing the flowers from him, roses in different hues of deep red and soft blush arranged in the center, and smelling their scent softly. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.” He beams with pride at your own delight before following you into your house and toward the kitchen.

“Smells delicious in here.” You quickly grab a vase for the flowers to set them in water while he takes a seat in a bar stool at the island counter. “What’s on the menu, sweetheart?”

His compliments and nicknames come so naturally to him, it seems. Butterflies flood your insides once again, not being so used to such attention from someone you’re attracted to, but with each one you fall into something new and exciting with him. No longer wanting to ignore what this is between the two of you, you decide to accept it all from him, whatever he wants to give.

You describe to him the creamy chicken alfredo dish you prepared, hoping it’s something he will enjoy since it’s so simple, yet tasty. He assures you it sounds amazing, and together you prepare to eat. He makes himself at home in your kitchen by grabbing plates and silverware, and you finish up cooking before you both sit at the dining room table in the next room.

Immediately when the pasta hits his tongue he’s groaning in delight. You love to cook, but sometimes Ava can be a picky eater, so it’s nice to have someone else eat your food for once.

“Delicious, sweetheart,” he says in a deeper, lower tone you aren’t sure if he’s actually talking about the food. Or maybe your mind is playing tricks on you. It’s been years since you’ve been interested in anyone else. Clearly you’re a little rusty when it comes to all of this stuff. “A beautiful woman that can cook like this? That cooks like this for me? Have I died and gone to heaven?”

“Oh gosh,” you say giggling before covering your face with your hands. “You’re making me blush.” When you finally look at him, there’s a devious glint in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.

“Good.” Heat swells in your lower belly from the simple word. What is this man doing to you?

Once the moment of risky, heated flirtation dies down, you carry on eating your meal and getting to know each other. He tells you a silly story of his childhood and you tell him an embarrassing one from your high school years. He explains how he got started working on cars from his father and you talk a bit about the books you like to read. From one topic to the next, conversation with him flows so easily you almost think you’re dreaming. Before you know it, your plates are empty, the wine is gone, and hours have passed.

“It’s almost like a movie,” you tell him, feeling light from the bit of alcohol you shared. Not enough to affect your judgment in any way, but enough to make the words come out easier. Or maybe it’s just because he makes you feel so comfortable.

“What is?” he asks, crossing his arms before resting them against the table to lean closer.

“This. Us.” You chuckle, shaking your head. “It feels too good to be true. How do we meet like we did and get along so well and our girls get along so well and… it’s like a movie. But it’s not…”

“No, it’s not,” he says, reaching to take your hand in his. “It could be, though. It could be better.”

“How? Things never end up like the movies. Normally, there’s no happy ending. At least not for me.”

“You’ll never know unless you try, sweetheart.” His thumb grazes your skin, melting your bones and muscles away until you turn to putty in his hands. His touch calms you and feels so right. “And I don’t know about you, but I’d rather try than lose something that is becoming so precious to me.”

His words hit you hard. You know he’s right. Even if it doesn’t play out perfectly like a movie, you know he’s worth trying for.

So are you.

You’ve been stuck so long in the role of being the wife to a neglectful, hurtful man, even after your divorce. It’s time you finish that chapter of your life and begin a new one.

With your heart racing, you lean closer across the table, giving his hand a squeeze as the worries escape and a new kind of boldness takes hold. For a second, you meet his eyes, then your gaze lowers to his lips. Neither of you say anything as the seconds pass. Tension fills the air, the tone of the night shifting to something filled with desire and anticipation.

“I’d really like to kiss you, sweetheart.” The deepness of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Would you let me?”

All you can do is nod and watch as he inches closer. Seconds feel like minutes in the moment of eager breaths and tension. Your insides shake with anticipation, suddenly dying to feel his lips on yours, skin on skin, heat swimming in the pit of your stomach before it races between your thighs.

Then his lips are on yours. Breaths slow as you feel the softness of his skin, the heat, the desire, all wrapped up in a simple yet already explosive gesture. He leans a little farther in, pressing himself against your mouth while you suck in a deep breath, chest heaving and a moan spilling out before you can stop yourself. He deepens the kiss, opening his mouth while his tongue slips against your bottom lip just as his hand rises to the back of your neck.

Melting him into, you allow him to take control. You drop all defenses to let him guide you close as you kiss. Closer and closer until the kiss that was once just exploring now unleashes in passion. Your body follows his lead until you’re suddenly in his lap, wrapping hands around his neck as his palms fall to your waist.

His kisses stray from your mouth down your jaw to end up against your neck. Without your mouth full of the taste of his skin, your mind begins to spin as you start mumbling the first thing that comes up.

“I don’t… I don’t want to rush this…” He groans against your neck as he sucks right beneath your ear. Chills race down your spine and heat floods your body to every limb. Heart racing, breath quickening, body nearly trembling and you know this is so unlike you, but you know it feels so good to be this free and trust someone again. Even if for a moment.

“Want me to stop, sweetheart, say the word.” His voice is a mumble of words against your heated flesh, speaking between kisses and sucking the tender spots that have you shaking.

“No,” you whisper and he freezes in place, all kisses halted, all touches stalled, “don’t stop.”

The groan of satisfaction from his chest travels directly between your thighs. He pulls your body closer by the hips, guiding you to press yourself against him, panties rubbing against his jeans thanks to the dress you’re wearing. As he continues kissing your neck and you begin rolling your hips against him in desperation, his hands travel from your waist to your breasts, running careful palms over the highly sensitive peaks until he’s driving you wild.

Fire ignites in your body and you can hardly handle waiting any longer. Boldly, you take the straps of your dress to slip them down your shoulders, exposing a black lace bra before him. He halts his kisses for a moment to take you in. You’re nearly breathless from anticipation and yearning, watching his eyes glide down your body and back up again.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he groans, each syllable dripping with a desire you can feel between your thighs as you straddle his lap. The words give you the courage to reach behind you and unhook the bra, letting it fall from your body to leave you exposed and vulnerable. He takes in a deep breath, his hands resuming their caressing of your body, thumbs rolling over pert nipples to send your back arching, pushing yourself more into his grasp.

“Please,” you cry out, grinding yourself harder against his thickness between your thighs. Pleasure jolts through your body at the steady contact, lace panties rubbing about your swollen, aching clit as you ride his cock stiff against his jeans. Feeling good, too good, you’re sure you could come from this alone, but quickly enough his hands stall your motions at your hips.

“Not yet,” he growls against your neck, “I need to taste you first”

Taking you by surprise, he guides your body toward the dining table, settling you on top before falling to his knees. Your dress remains bunched around your waist as his hands slip beneath the skirt, up your thighs, gripping the sides of your panties and tugging them off in one swift motion. A gasp fills the air as he parts your thighs, getting a complete view of your pussy dripping with need before him.

He begins by kissing a trembling knee, working his way up your inner thigh all while keeping his eyes on your own. You don’t break contact, even though your eyelids begin to flutter as he inches closer to where you need him most. A sharp breath, a heavy exhale, and he’s pressing a kiss to the top of your slit, then he moves lower. His tongue flicks out to slip down toward your clit, brushing skin against skin as a wave of heated need surges through you.

“Oh God…” Your head falls back, finally breaking the gaze he held you in, hand reaching to run fingers through his hair.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he groans between your thighs. You have no choice but to obey him. He has you right on the edge of losing your sanity. Your head dips and you meet his eyes just in time to watch him press a kiss against your clit before licking from your entrance and back to the swollen bud. “Watch me as I eat this pretty pussy and make it mine.”

Shivering at the words, you can only grip the strands of his hair tighter. The move causes a deep groan to build in his chest just before he buries his face between your thighs. His tongue reaches your clit in desperation, massaging the sensitive skin and swallowing all of your juices that he’s caused to drip out of you. Strong hands grip you at your thighs, holding you in place as you begin to tremble around his head. He devours you between your legs, sucking on your clit before diving down to your entrance to fuck you with his tongue. Then he travels back up, swirling his tongue around and around until you’re rolling your hips against his face.

“God… please…” you begin to mutter a stream of nothing because you can’t even think of what you need to tell him. You just want more. You want release. “Please…”

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your flesh, dropping a hand from your thigh to bring fingers up to your dripping entrance. He pushes two digits inside, causing you to squeeze your walls around them as your legs tighten on each side of his head. “Tastes so sweet. So perfect. I want to feel you coming against me.”

He continues sucking on your clit as your moans and whimpers fill the room. He drives his fingers deeper to earn a sudden gasp falling from your lips, calling his name as you do as he says. Pressing harder against his face, rolling your hips to ride his fingers, you feel the bliss coiling at the pit of your stomach. The red hot pleasure swirls inside of you, building and building as he eats you out, until you can take no more.

The pleasure bursts through your body, taking hold as you tremble and cry his name. Walls squeezing around him, fingers gripping his hair tight, riding out the bliss against his face. He never slows his motions, continuing to massage your clit with his tongue, continuing to fuck you with his fingers, until you grow too sensitive between your legs all too quickly.

With a final lick of your juices, he finally pulls away as your body slumps, completely boneless from the orgasm he’s given you. There’s a sheen of your arousal against his lips and his fingers are coated just the same. The sight of him kneeling down, looking up, the remnants of your pleasure on his body as well as his wild hair thanks to your fingers do nothing but bolster your confidence in the moment. It’s like this man was made for you, not only for your pleasure but for your taking. You can’t deny what either of you want any longer.

He rises quickly to pull his t-shirt over his head and toss aside. Your eyes rake down his body, taking in his bare, broad chest, every line of every muscle, before settling on the defined bulge in his jeans.

“Do you have a condom?” He nearly pants, beginning to unbutton his jeans with one hand as he takes a step closer.

The question barely registers, then it sinks in. No. No you don’t have any protection. You haven’t needed it in so long, it’s not something you even thought of having in your house.

“I-I don’t…” Disappointment settles inside of you, but the urgency remains as well.

“I hope you don’t think any less of me, sweetheart…” He reaches in his back pocket, pulling out a foil wrapper from within. Relief washes over you, not even caring about why he would bring it in the first place. “I didn’t have any expectations for tonight, but I did have a few hopes.”

You can’t help but to giggle at this perfect, perfect man. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him close to press your lips against his own, tasting your pleasure on your tongue. He grips your waist, tight, pulling you closer to the edge of the table before pushing his jeans and boxer-briefs down his hips. He pulls away only to rip the condom wrapper open, and you watch as he rolls it down his thick, hard and aching length. Your pussy pulses in need once again, dying to feel him inside of you, filling you up.

“Hurry,” you gasp, pulling him closer to line the tip of his cock to your soaked and waiting entrance. “Please, I need you.”

“Fuck,” he growls, beginning to push himself inside of you, “a woman like you can absolutely ruin a man like me.” He glides inside of you with ease. Your pussy squeezes around him, feeling so full in seconds, so overwhelmed and so perfect. He fills you up completely, giving you a few seconds to accommodate his size with a few gasps and pants and heavy breaths until you can take it no longer.

With a roll of your hips against him, he begins to thrust his hips, shaking as if he’s trying to hold back. With his fingers tightening against the dress still around your hips, a deep groan builds in his chest the moment he slides back into your tightening pussy.

“God, you feel so good.” His mouth comes crashing down onto yours moments later. Hips work himself in and out of you between your thighs, tongues tangling together and hands desperately gripping to hold on to something. “So perfect, sweetheart.”

Heat begins to build once again, pleasure swirling throughout your body as you let go of all your worries, insecurities, and cares. Right now it’s just the two of you. A man between your legs giving you something you haven’t felt in so long. The trust and assurance that follows wraps itself around your heart, leaving you breathless as you succumb to all the things he’s offering.

“More,” you gasp, legs trembling around him, so close to the edge once again from the overwhelming lust and pleasure and freedom. Before you know it, a hand reaches between the two of you, finding your clit and rubbing circles mercilessly to reach your end. “Yes, please,” you cry out in a strained whisper, moans of his name filling the space as his cock hits the spot to fill your body with red hot tension that feels so good you would swear you’re dreaming.

“Come for me,” he orders with a deep, raspy groan in your ear. “That’s my good girl, come on my cock, baby.”

You’re shaking around him, body tightening with the need for release until the threat finally snaps, breaking all control as the heated bliss surges through your body for the second time. Your head falls back in cries of passion, so lost in him you don’t even know who you are anymore. He drops his hands to grip your hips tight, thrusting harder into you as you ride out the pleasure against him.

His motions become quick, breaths even more so, until his release inside of you. His own head falls back, eyes screwing shut while groaning, panting, coming undone within your walls and you feel his cock pulsing. Together you’ve made a mess of absolute pleasure, limbs tangling in limbs as your mouths crash. Heavy breaths and sticky skin colliding are all that can be heard for a few moments, until he finally becomes too sensitive to remain inside of you.

He pulls away with another satisfied groan. Your body grows limp once again. Tired eyes find one another, until giggling and breathy chuckles are shared between the two of you.

“One hundred percent,” he suddenly says, causing your brows to furrow.

“What?”

“Oh, I thought you asked what are the chances I’ve died and gone to heaven. One hundred percent.” You’re giggling again at him before he’s pressing his lips to yours in a quick kiss. Then two of you make your way to get cleaned up, dressed again, and to clean up the table you’ve just made a mess of. He stops to press a kiss to your cheeks, forehead, anywhere and anytime he can in the process, and you realize you haven’t felt so genuinely cared for in so long. You could get used to this.

When it’s all done, you end up on his chest as he lays across your couch in the living room. His hand on your back, yours beneath his shirt on his stomach. Your eyes flutter closed as the night, including the pleasure, takes its toll on you.

“Just like the movies,” you mutter, halfway to sleep.

“Ready for your happy ending, sweetheart?” You can’t even laugh at the question. No giggles or smirks or chuckles.

Because you are, and you know it’s with him and your two girls now. “So ready.”

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kaledya · 2 days

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Hey friend, I want to ask you some things about Constantine, I'm planning on making a FanFic about his way from Kid to Prince (Before he re encounters with Charlie).

1. How was his training? Was he trained by Lucifer? Or by Satan?, or by every single Deadly Sin?

2. Why did he lose his Humanity so much? Are there any specific or lots of events that relate to that?

3. When and which enemies he destroyed? If you don’t have it specified don’t worry, this is because after all nobody who fought him lived to tell it.

4. (This one is optional), Would you like to have something important on it? Something you would enjoy? Be honest, after all Constantine is your character.

First of all, I am very glad to hear that you want to write a fafic about him! And of course I will be happy to answer your questions!

In terms of knowledge, he was usually educated by the leading sages of Hell (he had a different teacher for each subject, so he had a well-rounded education) and Lucifer taught him what he knew as much as he could (how to use his powers, how to be a king), while Lilith taught him how to behave in politics, ) Satan was the one who taught Constantine's perception of power in general, Constantine was a person who thought that power came only from knowledge, Satan taught him that power was only power, showed him that he could not survive with only knowledge and taught him that fear was stronger than love and respect. He also learnt from Leviathan about education and science. He was not very close to the other sins in terms of education. When Constantine went to visit his aunt, it was one of the rare times when he was a child and not a prince, Bee tried to make Constantine happy, not to educate him.

In general, the way he was raised and the training he received did this to him. Lilith and Lucifer had no evil intentions, they wanted their sons to be safe and strong, but they realised a little late that they were destroying the humanity in Constantine with their actions, and when they realised, they were at a point where they could no longer go back, but on the bright side, they did not follow the same thing with Charlie. Plus Constantine was already born with a superior intelligence, which made him less empathetic as he grew up, which came with the responsibilities of being a prince, so he had to grow up early because he had too much on him as a child. And even a normal prince would have to harden himself and control his emotions and act rationalistically in order to rule. Constantine was the prince of hell, surrounded by monsters and nobles waiting to see a weakness in him, and if he wanted to defeat the monsters, he had to become one of them. And Constantine did this, he hardened herself until his weakness or emotions were minimised. The only person that constantine behaves with his sincere personality is his sister Charlie, I can even say that the face that constantine shows to Charlie is so different that Charlie almost does not recognise her brother at the royal meetings. (In the very later parts of the series, they start to develop a relationship with Serenity like Sherlock and Watson. but this is a very slow developing friendship)

and btw I was inspired to write Constantine by these two books maybe it helps to understand him!

3.Sometimes some demons decide to cross the line and Constantine can execute them. There is no one specific one at the moment, only Lucifer or Charlie can defeat Constantine, no one else in Hell is crazy enough to try to fight him. At least not yet.

4.Thank you for asking but no I've got nothing to add at the moment., and Constantine is my character, yes. but this is your fanfic, you can do whatever you want as long as you keep his personality, have fun! And when you're done writing and publish it on ao3 please tag me on tw and I look forward to reading it!

#hazbin hotel oc

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finniestoncrane · 3 days

Note

Hello! I would like to purchase my tickets (with OBD Ozzie, please)! I'm here to see a romantic comedy, and I would like to sit in the front row if there is still space! As for the snacks, I will take a frozen yogurt and a strawberry & vanilla ice-cream! Thank you and congrats on 2k! It's always so much fun to request like this, hehe 🩷

thank you!! gosh obd penguin is one of my favourites. a soft little guy who is also the bravest smartest strategist of the rogues? he kills me dead 💚🩷 cw: fluff fluff fluff 🔞minors dni🔞 send a request • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie2k (to follow or to block)

As you sorted the various papers around his office, you couldn't help but beam with joy. It had taken him a long time to get back here, but Oswald had pulled himself up and regained his spot on the throne of Gotham's criminal underworld.

"Not many men get knocked down so far and manage to come back stronger tha before. An empire, for an emperor penguin. You know, I am so proud of you."

Turning to him, you noticed that he was blushing, and making a poor attempt to try and hide it. And even though you tried to stifle the soft giggle, it came out anyway, which only made him blush more.

"Sorry, Oswald, you just look so cute with your pink cheeks."

He groaned, embarrassed that you had seen him like that.

"It's ok! I apologise... maybe that was a bit too informal for an employee."

Though his cheeks were threatening to turn a shade of deep red, he felt the need to clarify.

"Oh, you're more than that."

Raising an eyebrow, you waited for him to explain, confused about the prospects of that statement.

"I meant a friend. You're a friend..."

"Just a friend?"

The flush on his cheeks spread to his nose and the tips of his ears as he fumbled with his pen.

"Well, I suppose... we could be more than that. I don't know how that might feel though."

You cupped his cheeks, feeling the warmth of his blush on your palms.

"How does this feel, then?"

"That feels nice... it feels right. Your hands are so soft."

Stroking over his skin with your fingers you smiled at him.

"My lips are soft too."

Leaning in, you placed a kiss on his cheek, smiling as you pulled away and noticed his lopsided smile. For all that he was a strong, unflappable leader, he was quick to melt in your hands.

#finnie writes #finnie2k #x reader #the penguin #oswald cobblepot

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calisaalutforchriss · 9 hours

Text

⋆.˚✮you make me lose my self control✮˚.⋆

summary: y/n went over to a friend, Gage's house. she was there for awhile. chris texted and asked where she was, she admitted and chris got jealous. very jealous.

a/n: first person pov? second? thrid? shit..i dont know. im so bad at writing smut. smuttttttttt. name calling, pretty girl, sweet girl, babe, etc. SOFTDOM!CHRIS SUB!READER. a bit of aftercare. fluff, p in v, no condom (bad chris, bad), dry humping...slight praise kink if you squint. little itty witty tiny bit of angst. all lowercase oopsies are on purpose

THIS IS TOO SHORT AND I HATE IT SO. FUCKING. MUCH.

i walked into gages house, smiling. i had on a baggy tee and a pair of chris's, (my bofriend) fresh love sweatpants. i put my bag on the ground, along with my nike dunks.

g: hey y/n!

i looked up to see gage making pasta

y: oh hey! whats up?

i walk over to gage and smile, greeting him

g: how ya doin?

y: great! you makin pasta?

i look down at the creamy Alfredo

g: yup! you ready? its done!

i nod my head and sit at the table. gage comes by and sets my plate down in front of me. and shit, it smells amazingggg. i take a bite and smile up at gage.

y: shit this is good.

g: thanks, its my mom recipe.

y: damn, slide me that shit.

me and gage laugh.

y: hey, thanks for inviting me and letting me eat with you. wanna take a photo?

gage nods his head, putting his fork down on his plate. i take out my phone and put it in 0.5x and smile, we both are touching heads. not in a weird way, in a friendly way.

g: good?

y: yup! can i post it to the gram?

g: sure, just tag me if you can, okay?

i noded my head. i posted it, a few hours later, we're playing a card game. we were laughing and having fun until i got a text from chris.

c: where tf are you?

i was a bit surprised, chris never acted like this.

y: at gages...

c: why? come home now.

what?...i was just having fun. dammit.

y: 10 more minutes?

c: home. now.

shit. i fucked the fuckity fuck up.

y: sorry, ill be there soon...

i looked up at gage

g: what happened?

y: i-i...my mom...i need to u-uh...goo...home! yeah! home!...

i immediately packed up my shit. no goodbyes were necessary, i was in deep shit with my man. i timidly opened the front door.

y: babe?...

i walked upstairs, into our bedroom, seeing chris on our bed, watching tiktok on his phone.

y: babe? what are you doing?

i put my bag down in the loveseat and take off my shoes.

c: where were you?

y: gage's

c: cool...

cool? what did he mean, "cool"?

y: yeah! it was a lot of fun! he made us alfredo and we played board games!

chris nodded his head, not even looking at me.

y: oh! did you see my insta post? doesnt he look so diffrent? i rember when we were in like 6th grade, we were so young and cute an-

c: cool.

i hate it when people interrupt me. chris knows that...whats his deal? is he...jealous?

y: whats your deal?

i asked, laying down next to him and pushing hair behind his ear.

c: it makes me so fucking pissed when youre always with gage.

what is he yaping about?...

y: im not always at gages house.

chris rolled his eyes at me

c: whatever. i dont wanna fight with you, baby. did you shower?

i smiled. even though chris was pissed, he was still a gentleman and a nice boyfriend.

y: not yet.

c: go shower.

i nodded my head and gave him a quick peck before getting out of bed and walking into our walk-in closet. i grabbed my silk pj dress. i never slept in it before, but...chris bought it for me a while back. might as well wear it. i shrugged and walked into the bathroom

10 OR SOMETHING MINUTES LATER

i hopped out the shower and wrapped a towel around my body. then my hair. i did my skincare routine, put on my deodorant, my pjs, and chapstick. i smiled then walked out. i saw chris, asleep. no matter how pissed he was, he was still my baby. i slowly got into bed, trying not to wake him. he turned around, looking at me. his hair a mess and his eyes droopy.

y: sorry, my love.

i smiled and kissed his temple before spooning him.

c: no, i wanna be big spoon.

he whined

y: mhp...fine...

i turned over, i felt chris spoon me...wait...that felt...weird...im praying that was the remote on my back.

y: baby? do me a favor, and move that remote?

chris smirked

c: the remote is on the nightstand, sweet girl.

y: i-is that your phone?...

c: on the charger.

shit.

y: why are you so...bricked?

chris grabbed my hips and my curves, caressing them and peppering my neck in kisses.

c: you. that dress. mhh..fuck...

i felt him thrust his hard clothed cock on my ass

y: fuck...babe! whatre you doing?...

c: let me fuck you.

oh shit, that made my pussy throb

y: fuck, babe. i just showered, though.

c: then you can shower again.

he wouldnt stop pounding his hips into me. i started to lift up my dress, revealing my lace panties...soaked

c: fuck, ma. so wet for me already, havent even touched you.

y: mhh...baby...please fuck me.

c: okay, baby. stay still.

chris slowly pulled down his boxers. he didnt have anything else on, besides boxers. now...they were at his ankles. he grabbed my ass and pulled my panties down to my knees and pulled me close to him.

c: fuck, baby. youre gorgeous.

i whined, needy for his dick.

c: fine, fine, baby.

chris pushed himself into me

y: mh fuck!

i whined. no matter how much we fucked, i had to get used to how long and thick he was.

c: mmh..fuck..youre so tight, ma. keep singing for me.

he slowly thrusted into me. i kept moaning, he kissed my shoulder as he thrusted.

c: fuck...so tight. this is what happens when you leave me for gage. fuck. so tight.

chris makes me moan, moan moan moan moan.

c: so

thrust.

c: fucking

thrust.

c: tight...so good for me, ma.

i moaned too loud. it was too much, i couldnt do it.

y: youre so fucki-

i moaned, i couldnt finish my sentence.

c: hm? im what? i need words, sweet girl.

chris asked, not stopping the hard thrusts.

y: BIG!

i felt the knot in my stomach tense

y: im gonna cum!

this made chris groan, and his thrusts harder and harder.

c: me too...fuck! mmmmhhhh

the knot snapped

y: FUCK!

i came all over chris, he didnt stop, his thrusts getting sloppy and he pulls out for a few seconds before groaning, he came all over my ass.

c: mmm...fuck...so hot.

i was panting, on my side, tired and out of breath. i went down and pulled my panties up.

c: good job, sweet girl. you did so well for me. i love you.

i was fast asleep. he chuckled and cleaned me up. he laid next to me, spooning me and falling fast asleep. our snoring making symphony.

i guess chris just lost his self control.

@livialifesblog thanks for the request. sorry its so bad.

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #fluff #smut #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew #matthew sturniolo #mature beauty

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buttertrait · 18 hours

Text

📩 simblr question of the day: any other simblrs that you love

i did something similar to this a while ago but i just wanna spread some love because there are so many amazing and talented people and i just hope you all know i appreciate all of you! (also this post is super long so i apologise i advance)

@squea honestly you are such a sweet person and you’re so so talented! you inspire me so much and you already know i appreciate you but i really do and i’m so thankful to call you my friend💛

@circusjuney june, you are so cool. not only are your edits amazing, you can make poses as well??? you’re so talented and also i love talking to you you’re honestly so lovely and so sweet <3

@youredreamingofroo you have such cool and chill vibes, and your renders are amazing!! i also love reading about your ocs and stuff or seeing the stuff you reblog that reminds you of them, i told you this already but i legit stalked roo and leo’s tag the other day because i wanted to find out more about them!

@druidberries you already know ily, but honestly i am so invested in the tjol gang i love seeing them pop up on my dash and hello the latest update??? i am so excited for baby 3!! also ofc butterberries is the best duo and no i will not accept criticism thank you💛

@sunyos jaci, every interaction i have with you is so chaotic but you never fail to make me laugh so hard! you are honestly so chill and i love seeing your sims so much and i just love talking to you!!

@fizzytoo i love your sims and your gameplay screenshots so so much! honestly your postcard legacy was one of the reasons i wanted to get the horse ranch pack bc you just made it seem so fun! you also just have such good vibes! (also i saw your posts about playing sdv, i’m expecting updates from your farmer butter!!)

@stellarfalls literally where do i even begin. i mean if you haven’t seen bree’s edits already i’m going to assume you’ve been living under a rock? just so talented and honestly you inspire me so much (although i don’t think my edits will ever be on your level)

@stinkrascal honestly again just such a sweet and lovely person!! also i just love your vlad so much and i love reading your story like i love learning more about your characters and their backstories!

@alelelesimz honestly where would we be without your cc free townies, thank you for your service🫡. but not only that the way you style your sims in general is amazing like their outfits are always so so good

@solargrove you are so so sweet! despite the fact we don’t interact much you sent me such a lovely ask after i was upset by that anon and it just really cheered me up! not only that but your builds and your gameplay screenshots always have such a nice warm and cozy vibe to them like they literally can i live in your game pls?

@folkbreeze your edits your gameplay are so so good every time! your screenshots are always so full of life and literally look like they belong in a photo album i love it so much and i just love the way that you edit them as well

@eljeebee such an amazing story teller! if you guys aren’t following lana you should be!!! you put so much love into your stories and it really shows they’re so good! also you are so lovely and have always been so nice and supportive and i appreciate it so much💛

@citrlet honestly i’ve said this so many times at this point but you are so lovely! also your screenshots are so pretty and soft and i love them so much! i also love seeing your stardew valley screenshots like i really love the fairycore/cottagecore vibe <3

@crazy-lazy-elder-sims i’m so sorry i sound like a broken record but you are so lovely!!! every time i’ve interacted with you you’ve just been super sweet or supportive and i really appreciate it! also in general just the fact you reblog so many posts and support so many people is really nice to see honestly i always love seeing stuff that you reblog whether that be sims or not!

@windslar honestly your gameplay screenshots and your edits are so good!! and literally where would simblr be without your psds we would literally be so lost like they’re so good and so useful

@orbitsuns your gameplay posts are so pretty. they have such a sweet and wholesome vibe to them if that makes sense? esp your secret garden screenshots they just feel very cozy and wholesome. also you have the sweetest vibes <3

@wildmelon you have always been one of my biggest inspo esp when it comes to fantasy! also even though you don’t just post sims i love your blog so much. it has such a whimsical vibe and i just always associate you with fantasy <33 (also your sims are STUNNING)

this is already super long so quick fire of some of the other people on here that i love and that you should go show some love to as well @glittermutt @simelune @cottageivy @thefunniestjester @flovoid @finnsim @kopimoss @futurelabs @velvet-disc @aliengirl @zleepyhollow and so so many others that i’m probably missing honestly anyone that i follow has inspired me in some way or another and i appreciate each and everyone of you 💛💛 also just anyone who has liked commented on or reblogged any of my posts i appreciate it so so much thank you all for being here 🫶

#simblr question of the day #probably the only one i’m gonna do of these #just wanted to share some love #butter’s thoughts

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akai-anna · 2 days

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Rambling post about The Art TM

Firstly, a special thank you to @livmadart who fuelled my motivation with her lovely tags on my art to finish making this post as soon as I could (life just likes to get in my way). You are such an amazing person and artist (by the way, everyone should totally check out Liv's BDay piece for our favourite little menace BECAUSE IT'S GORGEOUS), and your words always mean a lot to me (even if I'm not the best at communication, for which I apologize, still love and adore you, despite the awkwardness and sporadic talks).

The Idea

My art was inspired by the amazing @detshin's piece. Ever since I've seen it, I felt the urge to make a companion piece for it; I adore the composition and the symbolism in it to bits.

The Concept

I also wanted to take my own spin on the piece. From the start I wanted:

Conan's eyes not being covered (because he can see)

Conan looking at the viewer like he is looking straight into your soul. No thoughts, head empty why, it just felt right.

His mouth to be the one that is covered in some way. The sheer symbolism of his mouth being obstructed (but cannot speak) just made my heart ache so badly.

Changing the outfit based on this musing of mine.

As for the rest, it came about when sketching around, and waiting for that CLICK in my brain. And the forget-me-nots covering his mouth was that CLICK: SYMBOLISM IS MY LIFEBLOOD.

The Materials

I had 2 techniques in mind: watercolours and soft pastels. Ultimately I decided on soft pastels because

I haven't worked with pastels in YEARS, yet I adore the technique

I haven't used these pastels since I got them from an attic cleaning that we did for an old lady last year-ish (they would have been thrown away, after YEARS OF DISUSE and my heart couldn't take it, SUCH BEAUTIFUL MATERIALS TO WASTE AWAY)

I felt that what the material has to offer suited this particular piece: the vibrant colours offering a certain contrast to the original piece, and a certain feel (especially on the right paper) to the texture.

After some testing, I decided that going with a dark background works better: it made the colours more vibrant, and the slight texture of the paper did its magic. + Dark VS Light background colour was another nice contrast between the two pieces.

The Making

At first I didn't know what to use to sketch with, so I tested a couple things, and ultimately went with a white pencil: easy enough to erase if needed but also visible enough to see on this particular paper I had.

Looking up and studying tons of reference pictures for various things (sometimes with more, sometimes with less luck): the pose, facial features, the flowers... I have a whole folder of 'em LMAO

Actually drawing that sketch LOL

Then came the colours, which I tested on a separate piece of paper, to see which ones I want to use... After that I added the main blocks of colours.

And when I liked it, proceeding with the actual colouring: mixing all the different colours and layering them. In some places I used 4-6 colours (or more, depending how you look at it), while I used only 2, but mostly 3 in others.

Lastly: I used hairspray as a fixative, which slightly changed the quality and texture of the pastels and colours. (See below.)

The Feelings

As mentioned above, it has been years (I think around a decade actually, what the fck) since I used soft pastels, so it was a bit of a challenge to get back into using the material (and I'm not as experimental and confident I want to be yet, and likely fried my brain a little in the process). Also tons of fun, though! I forgot how much fun is there in the process of creation, and this piece brought that back into my life.

#la junk talks #my stuff #just lots of rambling #also i've been meaning to finish this a lot sooner but life interrupted me #and ended up a lot busier than planned so apologies to my past self that thought i would be finished with this post much sooner #instead of only posting this on the next sunday #which makes it a week. to be fair i haven't had much free time all week. only today lmao #with this i'm shutting up #if anyone wants to ask anything or just want to chat about this piece (or in general): you are more than welcome to approach me #time to faint to bed #and if you want more detail pics i have tons so... i'M just proud of this piece ALL RIGHT? had to make sure i have PICS

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kaylinalexanderbooks · 2 days

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Character voice

Thanks to @elsie-writes here and @willtheweaver here!

Rules: rewrite the given line in your characters' voice

“The recipe says to add milk next!” (Note: Thinking kind of in the context of some characters would say this anxiously bc milk HAS to be next, and some characters would be like, "but I'm gonna put [whatever]!")

Lexi: "I'm no expert, but I think we should follow the recipe. It says add milk next! Therefore, we should add milk next."

Maddie: "The recipe says to add milk next, but hear me out-- what if we didn't include milk at all? I'm curious how this would taste."

Ash: "Why do we have to add milk? Why does the recipe know better? I think we should add whatever liquid we want." *Pours in Sprite*

Gwen: "The recipe says to add milk, so I'm gonna do that. But I feel like I'm not adding enough milk. This is pretty dry."

Robbie: "Okay, the recipe says we need to add milk, but, like, what milk? 2%? Whole? Skim? Lactose free? Coconut? Almond? Oat? Cashew??? Chocolate???? How am I supposed to cook if I don't know what milk to use??"

Akash: "Robbie, it doesn't matter what milk we use. It's just milk. I'm just really thankful you didn't say breast milk." (Robbie: oh my God I forgot breast milk!! That makes this more confusing!)

Jedi: "I am afraid I am not used to following a specific recipe myself. Usually, I simply create it in the replicators. However, I believe I will follow the recipe, though if it is not satisfactory, I will change it for next time."

Carmen: "If the recipe says we have to add milk, we are adding milk! What is the point of the recipe if we're just going to change it? See, this is why cooking is stupid! We have replicators for a reason!"

Bonus:

Noelle: "Why are we debating this??? The recipe says to add milk????"

“Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”

Slightly different interpretation of this line because not everyone is adventurous

Lexi: "My sense of adventure would be a lot better if adventure came with a schedule."

Maddie: "Cmon, it'll be an adventure! Who knows, you might have a lot of fun."

Ash: "Yeah, things are kinda crazy, but it's also kinda fun. Like an adventure."

Gwen: "Not sure about this adventure, but I'm curious to see where this leads!"

Robbie: "Holy shit, this adventure sounds like so much fun! But I'm only in if Akash is."

Akash: "I don't have a huge sense of adventure, but Robbie does, so I'll indulge him."

Jedi: "I would like to think I have a sense of adventure. One could say I...traveled a lot as a child. One specific trip... But I also consider my scientific studies an adventure in of itself."

Carmen: "I don't have a sense of adventure, and frankly, yours is rather annoying."

Tagging @writeouswriter @leahnardo-da-veggie @pluppsauthor @pluto-murphy-writes @aalinaaaaaa

@dyrewrites @eccaiia @aalinaaaaaa @willowiswriting @words-after-midnight

@evilgabe29 @mk-writes-stuff @cherrybombfangirlwrites @rickie-the-storyteller

+ ANYONE ELSE

Your line is: "I think I'm gonna try that Ghost Pepper." [Include their reaction.]

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy

#the secret portal #teaspoon #tsp #oc tag game #my ocs #writing tag game #writers of tumblr #character voice #writers on tumblr #writing community #writing on tumblr #writeblr #writeblr community

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momochizoey · 25 days

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Thank you for tagging me @celinou !!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

I've got 12 on my AO3! 9 ATLA/TLOK fics, and 3 Wednesday fics.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

46,759 words in total! Most of it is one shots so that tracks tbh, though I'm actually pretty impressed with how much that actually is, especially cause it doesn't count how much I've written for WIPs.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

#1) Scrapped Scenes, a Wenclair fic, at 1,632 kudos (which is frankly insane, I hadn't realized it got that much)

#2) Crying Wolf, another Wenclair fic, at 759 kudos

#3) And Iphigenia Felt Rage, a Yuezula fic, at 225 kudos

#4) The Future Looks Brighter Together, a Sokkla fic, at 163 kudos

And at #5) Yours In Body And Soul, another Sokkla fic, at 154 kudos

I'm not surprised the two Wenclair fics are on top by such a wide margin, I wrote those when the show had only just come out so the fandom was at its peak. Very glad that many people liked what I wrote though! Since most of the other fandoms I've written for (on ao3 or here) are a lot less active, it was a new experience!

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I usually do, but I do have to admit I've been struggling a bit with it recently 😅. I read them all, and I'm so grateful for them, but especially on fics that I had huge plans for still, and which are in no way close to progressing, I have this feeling like I should have a new chapter to offer when I do answer them. I'm blaming it on my social anxiety 😬

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ooh, that's a hard one cause I definitely tend to go in a more fluffy, feel-good direction. But I'd have to say it's Keep Your Fire On A Leash (Let The Ashes Bring You Peace). It's a June/Azula oneshot, mainly focused on Azula dealing with the pyromania she developed in captivity (as a need to reclaim complete control over at least this aspect of her life). She tries to manage it a little by working in pottery, where continuous, constant temperature control is crucial to porcelain quality, but it's not perfect. It's not angsty per-se, but it's definitely more ambiguously neutral.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Oooh, I'd say it's a toss up between two of my fics:

The first is Not Alone, a TyZula band AU fic about Azula recovering from bottom surgery. I wrote it while I myself was still recovering from bottom surgery, and I wanted to explore a facet of trans characters journeys that isn't often discussed? It's a bit more niche, and I only recently made it open to anyone, not just ao3 users, so it's one of my less popular fics for sure, but it's very hopeful portrayal of a trans experience.

And the second is Yours In Body And Soul, a Sokkla soulmates AU, where soulmates bodyswap at night when either of them has had a bad day, in order to try to cheer them up. I got the idea from a korrasami fic called Paralyzed I read a while back, and changed the mechanics a little bit to make it work. It's definitely a more traditional happy ending, romantic getting together included (up to a point, they are still kids in the timeline so just an excited hug).

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I don't! Sometimes people disagree on one interpretation of something, but never disrespectful or anything, so I'm pretty happy!

9. Do you write smut?

I've tried it before in private, got some good feedback. But no, never anything that I'd share.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've ever written?

I'm not sure if ATLA/TLOK counts😂. I've had some ideas for crossovers though, and written a few draft snippets, I think it was a TLT/ATLA one, an ATLA/Shang-Chi, and a Naruto/ATLA one that I've actually posted a few snippets from on here if I remember correctly.

That last one was a Sakura reincarnated into Azula idea, to explore some interesting anti-imperialist ideals, because that's actually a blind spot Sakura has as well with Konoha. It's easy for her to fall into the same ideological fallacies as before, especially with the significantly lower usage of child soldiers in the Fire Nation making it seem like the epitome of peace and human rights to her. Like looking at the same problem in a different font, at a slightly different angle, it gives Sakura an opportunity for growth by maybe showing her some of the issues she had been ignoring or missing in Konoha, shaking some of her loyalty.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope, not as far as I'm aware!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also nope, theoretically I could translate it in Dutch, but I'm a lot better at expressing myself in English I think, and almost every Dutch person can read English (especially on ao3), so I don't think it would add much. Maybe one day though!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't, though it seems like it'd be very cool, I'd definitely be open to it!

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

God, don't make me choose 😭😭 I guess it's probably Chasefield? I'm such a sucker for those two it's unreal. Otherwise maybe Yuezula, Maizula or Sokkla? They each have such interesting possible dynamics, in such varying ways.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Again, that's a tough one cause I'm afraid I have a lot. I still have several half-written chapters of Getting Family Approval In Six Fool-Proof Steps (Cue The Fools, Sokka And Azula), as well as the start of a longer fic that continues on from And Iphigenia Felt Rage that I've fully outlined and would love to write someday but can't be sure I ever will. There's also Indelible Mark which I've been blocked on forever. As for WIPs that haven't even been partially published yet, I've got 11k for a Chasefield fic I've posted a scene or two for on here called Muse on My Mind, that I wish I could finish but I'm not confident I can manage any time soon. I've also got the start and the outline of a TLT griddlehark fic, where I'm absolutely in love with the premise and the twist I'm building it on, but which, again, I've not progressed much with in a good 6 months. There's a few others, but these are the ones I'd really like to finish at some point.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I love reading it, writing it I could do Dutch or Google translate a different language, but much preferably I'd be able to check it with someone who actually speaks the language for accuracy. Best to use some of the more advanced ao3 html uses to make a translation appear when you hover over it though, unless not understanding it is an important part of the reading experience, in which case people can look it up later if they want to.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

My very first fic was actually a The 100 song fic based on an opera song, which is too embarrassing so I won't share where it is🤐 I was like 17 so it's too embarrassing.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Tbh, it's either Muse on My Mind (the chasefield fic I mentioned that isn't posted anywhere except for 1 or 2 scenes on Tumblr), which is super fun because it's playing with the perspective of a character that just straight up doesn't understand half the plot happening in the background that is hinted at for the reader who does know. Oblivious characters too caught up in their own shit to pay attention are so so so much fun to write, especially when you have fun with it, implying things but never outright confirming it!

Otherwise it's Haunted By Runaway Ghosts. That one is a Sokkla fic that explores their past through flashbacks while Zuko and Katara are both grappling with the discovery of their niece and nephew they had no idea existed (or could exist). Which, not to brag, but from a technical standpoint I really think that one is probably one of the most skilled fics I've written and published, and it was so much fun to write and puzzle it all together; the slow build up and explanations slowly coming together to form the bigger picture, the hidden ties between locations in the show and events in the story and how they fit into each other perfectly - genuinely a joy to write (and if people are interested in reading it please do, imo it's on par with And Iphigenia Felt Rage, if in a pretty different style, definitely something I'd love for more people to enjoy the way I did writing it).

Thanks again for tagging me @celinou, this was very fun to do! I see you've already tagged @sourrind, who I'd have tagged as well, so next I'll tag @dawnsiren @ly0nstea and @likeadragonfruit , and of course whoever else wants to do it!

#tag game #thank you so much for tagging me this was so much fun!#my writing #Zoey Wrestles With Words #also yes I did perhaps use this to plug my fics by linking them every time they're mentioned- shush I'm allowed

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