#too many messages. to many responsibilities. too many deadlines.

[crashandlivewrites]

I Need Your Discipline

My participation in @glitterypirateduck's SoapItUp event! I was initially gunning for Captain MacTavish but it wasn't coming together. Maybe I can get a second one out before the deadline.

Pairing: Soap x fem!reader

Summary: Soap 'accidentally' sends you a dick pic. You decide to teach him how to take nicer photos. Using prompt 29: "Was this your plan the entire time?"

CW: MDNI 18+ content, NSFW, cunnilingus, fingering (f receiving), unsolicited dick pic, consensual sending of nudes, coming in underwear

Word Count: 3.6k (it really got away from me whoops)

Captain Price had your attention all the way up until your phone buzzed in your pocket. Frowning, you took it out. You hadn’t been expecting a message from anyone and usually during meetings, you flicked it to only allow messages from fellow army personnel. Maybe you’d forgotten this time. 

One glance at the screen told you that Soap had messaged, which wasn’t surprising. He often got bored and liked to pick jokes during Price’s long debriefs. However, when you snuck a glance at him, he wasn’t paying any attention to you like he usually would be while waiting for a reaction. Frowning, you opened his message. 

It was his dick. Holy shit, Soap had sent you a picture of his penis. Suppressing a snort and shutting off your phone, you jerked your head up in confusion, trying to catch his attention, but he was acting completely engrossed with your Captain’s words. Sure, he’d always been light-hearted and playful, rubbing shoulders flirtatiously and throwing an arm around you any chance he got, but you’d also seen him out at the pub when he was actually trying to get in someone’s pants. And it had never seemed that way when he was taking to you, as much as you wanted it. Until now. 

Glancing back down at the message, you realised there was another message after it. 

> Just got back. Ready to hit pound town?

This time, you only just managed to cover your snort with a cough, earning the briefest of glances from Kyle sitting to your right. Quickly, you type a reply. 

< Not the welcome home present I was expecting from you, MacTavish

Soap reached into his pocket a few moments later, pulling out his phone with a smirk on his face to read the message. His face then morphed into confusion before his eyes visibly widened and snapped up to meet yours. Raising your eyebrows, you tilted your head questioningly at him. His fingers flew over the keys. 

> Fuck. That wasn’t for ye. I’m really fucking sorry

< Ouch. Nice to know I’m not good enough for your dick pics 

> Shoulda told me ye were feelin left out. Coulda sent one to ye earlier. Would that make ye feel better? 

< Nah. Received too many dick pics in my time. There are nicer ways to take nudes 

Soap lifted his head, brow creasing and lips pouting as though insulted at your statement. You grinned back at him, shrugging as you waited for him to reply. 

> My dick is pretty, thanks. Plenty of girls have liked it 

< Didn’t say that. Just saying there’s nicer ways to take hot pics than just a straight up dick shot 

> Oh yeah? Like what?

Biting your lip, you wondered if you really wanted to do this. You watch Price momentarily as you thought through the pros and cons of sending your teammate a nude of your own. 

Pro: you’re sending a hot picture of yourself to the guy you’ve been crushing on

Con: he may not be interested in you

Pro: if things go south, you also have his dick pic to hold ransom

Con: he’s less likely to be embarrassed by his dick getting passed around base. Especially when it looked like THAT.

You could feel his eyes boring into the side of your head, waiting for your response. sucking in a deep breath, you scroll through your private photos, selecting one of your favourites. The picture accentuated your body as you were leaning against a wall wearing a pretty thong with one hand draped across your chest to squeeze your tits together and cover them over the middle. Grinning to yourself, you sent it to him. 

You knew he’d received the image when a choked off cough sounded from his side of the room. Glancing over, you could see Ghost thump him over the back as Soap sheepishly held up a bottle of water. 

“Sorry. Down the wrong pipe.” He wheezed; cheeks tinged pink as he met your eyes before returning to his phone. 

> What the fuck

> Warn a man before ye send shite like that

> Is that really you?

> Fuck me I ken ye were bonnie but darlin

> Ye got me bricked rn

A warm rush of arousal surged through you, knowing that one little photo had sent him into a spiral. Smirking, and refusing to meet his heavy gaze, you focused on Price for the remainder of the meeting, ignoring the fact your phone was buzzing incessantly. 

When Price finally dismissed the team, you didn’t even have time to push yourself up before the loud scrape of Soap’s chair filled the room and he marched over to you, nudging you out the door. His grip was like a vice on your arm as he steers you until he found an empty hallway. He pushed your back against the wall. 

“We gonna talk about what that was?” He holds up his phone and waves it in your face. Shrugging, you leaned back against the wall, arms folding across your chest. 

“You sent it first. Was just showing you what a good picture looks like.” 

“My pictures look nice.” His tone was indignant as he frowned, glancing down the hall to check no one was coming towards you.  

“Sure, because you’re decently attractive. That’s the only reason they’re passable.” 

“Decently attractive…” He huffs, looking haughty as he crossed his arms. 

“Why did you find my photo hot?” 

“I never said that.” Clearing your throat dramatically, you pulled out your phone and began to read in a mockery of his accent. 

“What the fuck? Warn a man before you send shite like that. Is that really you—”

“Haud yer wheesht! Fine, it was fucking hot.” 

“Why was it hot, MacTavish?” He chewed the inside of his cheek and glanced at the floor as he rocked back on his heels. 

“It was… sexy, without showing too much. Teasing and… fucking shite- fine! It made me want tae come over there and rip yer bloody kit off.” The corners of your lip twitched upwards, and you couldn’t fight the smirk that spread across your face. 

“You wanna see another?” 

The way his face lit up was almost comedic, before he frowned again. 

“Yer fucking having me on, aren��t ye?” He scowled. 

Pushing yourself off the wall, you slid your hands into your pockets, tilting your head as you stared at him coaxingly. He met your gaze, eyes squinting as he seemingly tried to read your expression before he sighed, head dipping for a moment before lifting back up again. 

“I’d like fer ye tae send me another.” He asked begrudgingly, fingers toying with his phone. “Please.”

Biting your lip to prevent him from seeing your sly grin, you picked out another. This one was taken from over your shoulder, the curve of your ass framed by a pretty black thong. His phone buzzed and his attention immediately snapped to it before he groaned. 

“Steamin’ hell, yer… shite, I cannae do this here.” He growls, eyes flashing dark with lust as they looked up at you. Blinking at him innocently only made his lip curl. “What’re ye playing at, darlin’?” 

“Just showing you how to really rile someone up.” 

“I’ll show ye riled up in a mo—”

“Would you like me to teach you, John?” You queried, seeing the interest immediately perk in his eyes. He paused in mid stride towards you, lips pursing. 

“Ye wanna teach me how tae take photos like that? I appreciate the effort, hen, but I’m not as bonnie as ye are. Ain’t got the tits fer that.”

“You got tits aplenty, MacTavish. Look at them.” Reaching out, you squeeze his pecs with a teasing grin, and he bats your hand away playfully. “You’re hot, Johnny. Lemme just help you… accentuate it.”

“Yer boostin mah ego there, lass.” He titters, eyes sharp as they trail down your body. “Ye sure yer willing?” 

“You sure you’re happy to miss out on your booty call for an impromptu photo shoot with your teammate?” You snark back, stepped forward to meet him halfway, boots tapping against his. Soap chuckled, finger tracing along your jaw as he leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. 

“After ye sent me these?” He scoffs, waving his phone in front of your face. “I’ve got all the time in the world fer ye.” The look on his face was smug as he leaned back. Your face matched his as you gripped the front of his shirt. 

“Come with me then.”

As you shut your door behind you, you turned around to see Soap already tugging off his uniform. 

“Why are you taking your clothes off already?” You growled at him; eyes sharp as you shook your head. Soap’s brows furrowed, halfway between shrugging his shirt off. 

“Are we not takin’ nudes?” He asked bluntly, head tilting to the side. Letting out a breathy laugh, you locked your door and walked over to him, ruffling his mohawk causing him to squawk in protest. 

“Nudes aren’t just about being naked, idiot.” 

“Aye, they are. Is that not the whole point?” Rolling your eyes, you push him into a chair and wheel him in front of a mirror and standing behind him. 

“When you take photos of yourself at the gym— don’t lie, I know you do.” You frowned down at him as he opened his mouth, about to process. “When you take photos of yourself at the gym, what do you look for?” 

His face pinched in thought. “Making myself look good, I guess.” He shrugged. “Gettin’ my good angles.” 

“Taking nudes is much the same. You’re a fit guy. Work your body into the shots too.” 

“Aye, but I’m still fully clothed.” He points out, raising his brow as he looks at you in the mirror. Clicking your tongue, you leaned down, hands sliding down his firm chest as you plucked open his buttons, one by one. 

“It’s the uniform, MacTavish. Use it.” You purred into his ear, pressing a kiss to the shell of it. He groaned softly; eyes fluttering closed as his breathing deepened. “See?” You pushed open his shirt revealing his toned chest. His eyes were fixed on you in the mirror, watching your every move with focused intent. 

“Now lean back slightly, spread your legs, roll your sleeves up, and tuck your thumb into your belt.” He did as you said, and you helped adjust the final touches, ruffling his hair once more before stepping out of sight. “Now take a few. You can change positions a little. Feel yourself, you know? Take what looks good.” 

You let him sit there for a few minutes, watching him closely as you leaned against the wall out of shot, feeling your body react to him. He was a natural taking pictures, adjusting his positioning slightly as he got into the feel of it. Finally, when he was satisfied, he turned his head to look at you, seeking your approval. Smiling, you stepped towards him, cupping his head as he blinked up at you expectantly. Resting your chin on his shoulder, he flicked through the photos for you. 

“Look at you. Don’t you look hot?” 

“Ye really think so?” His voice was soft as he turned his head slightly towards you. His long lashes cast slightly shadows over his cheeks, and you found yourself drawn into him. Blinking and breaking the trance, you didn’t answer, instead choosing to chuckle and raise your brow, standing back up. 

“Shirt off, next. Belt too but leave your pants on.” Soap nodded under your instruction, face flushing pink as he quickly rid himself of the items you’d specified, leaving him in his combat boots and pants. “Same kinda thing. Move around, pose. Flex a little. Especially your forearms and hands.” 

Again, you stepped back, this time admiring him more closely as he got more comfortable, turning around and playing with different angles. Your eyes drifted along the lines of back, tracing down his body as you felt the tension building in the room. 

Stepping forward, you came in behind him, hands sliding down his sides until you got to the buttons of his pants, undoing them with practiced ease. His cock pulsed with interest, and you could feel him thickening as you slid your hand down his front, rewarded with a soft groan. 

“Fuckin’ hell, hen. Ye’ve nae idea what ye do tae me.” 

“I have somewhat of a feeling.” You grinned over his shoulder, tucking his boxer briefs down so the base of his cock was evident in the mirror. “Take a picture of that.” You whispered, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades before stepping back once more. 

Soap cursed, head turning to look at you with longing as you stepped back, but you pointed to the mirror, and he diligently turned. His hand slid down the toned planes of his body, thumb hooking in the waistband of his underwear and tugging them down to expose the thick base of his cock, hair trimmed, but on the longer side. 

Instead of looking at the camera, or at himself in the mirror, his eyes were on you, heady and lustful. The corners of your lips twitched upwards, and you began to slowly remove your own clothing until you were in nothing but your bra and underwear. Swearing under his breath, Soap roamed every inch of your exposed body, palm pressing into his groin as his hips jutted forwards. 

“Ye gonna fuckin’ ruin me, doll.” 

“Take off your pants and get on the bed, MacTavish.” 

“Aye, ma’am.” He said, eagerly moving to kick off his boots and pants before rolling onto the bed. Eagerly following behind him, you shuffled up the bed on your knees, straddling his thighs as your hands slid up to cup his semi-hard erection. 

“See how we’re not even naked and you’re already swelling in your boxers?” He groaned, head tipping back against the headboard as your hand pressed against him, working him up to full hardness. 

“It’s all you, hen. Fuck yer makin’ me ache.” He whined, eyebrows tilting upwards as he pleaded for more. Shaking your head, you took your hands off him to unclasp your bra and throw it aside. 

“One more. Want you to hold your cock and press it up against the fabric, so we can see the outline of the head.” 

He swore again but did as you asked. Gripping his cock tightly, he slapped it a few times against his leg as he stared at your breasts, swallowing thickly before turning his attention to the camera and taking a few shots. But it didn’t last long. 

Releasing his cock and throwing his phone aside, Soap wrapped his arms around you, flipping you over on the bed. As you lay sprawled, slightly surprised by the sudden change in position, Soap loomed above you, smirk evident on his face. 

“Yer in fer it now, dollie. Been teasin’ me this whole time. Getting tae touch me like that, tell me how to hold my own damn cock. Nah… I’m gonna touch you now.” He purred, eyes predatory as his hands squeezed your tits, thumbs flicking over your nipples, making you moan softly, arching your back. 

Soap titters, sliding further down your body to push your legs apart and settle himself between them. Humming to himself, he ran a finger down your covered centre, circling your clit lightly before prodding at your soaked entrance. 

“All this just from seein’ me take a few pics?” His eyes were gleaming in excitement as he hooked a finger underneath the material of your thong and pulled it aside. “Jesus, hen… ye look like a god damn dream.” 

Perching yourself up onto your elbows, you looked down at him between your legs, watching his expression as he tugged your underwear to the side and lowered his mouth to blow air over the wet, sensitive skin. 

“What’s this? Cannae stand a wee bit of teasing, bonnie lass?” You whined at his cocky tone, lifting your hips up slightly and he cooed, sliding your underwear down your legs and tossing it onto his pants. “I’m keeping that, just so you know.” 

Before you even had the chance to protest, his hands ran up the backs of your legs, spreading them out and holding them down as he sucked kissed along your inner thighs, nipping slightly as he went. 

“John…” Rolling your hips, you gripped the sheets in frustration. “Stop being an ass and put your mouth on me.” 

“God, yer pure gaggin’ fer it, ain’t ye?” His grin was feral as he dragged the lip of his tongue ever so lightly against the hood of your clit. “Admit this was what ye wanted as soon as ye got that snap of my cock.” 

In the dizzy haze of arousal, his words sparked something, and you stared down at him, eyes narrowed. 

“Was this your plan all along? Was there ever another girl you were meant to send that photo to?” He shrugged, lapping at your cunt and making your toes curl with pleasure as he chuckled against you, the vibrations sending shivers through your body. 

“That’s my secret tae ken, dollie. ‘Sides, ye really gonna complain when it’s yer bed I’m in and yer legs I’m between?” His smug expression made you want to bite back some sarcastic reply, but you just couldn’t find the words. “Didnae think so.” 

His mouth lowered onto your throbbing cunt, one hand moving to spread you open so his tongue could press in, tasting you. He groaned deeply, fingers digging into your leg as the thumb on his other hand flicked over your clit. His hips ground into the bed as he did so, making him moan again. 

Pulling back, you could see the sticky wetness of your arousal already covering his bottom lip and chin. As if he could tell where you were looking, he stuck out his tongue and dragged it along his lower lip, grinning as he watched you. 

“Cannae believe ye been holdin’ out on me. Could sit here between these legs and eat this cunt out for hours. Tastes so fucking good.” He dove back in, wrapping his lips and sucking on your clit as his fingers pressed into you. 

You gasped at the stretch, back arching off the bed as his fingers began to move, scissoring and spreading your cunt wider for him. He continued to suck your clit, tongue dragging over it as you cried out, gripping the sheets tightly as your pussy clenched around his fingers. 

“Fuck— Johnny please. God, you’re so fucking good.” You moaned breathlessly, panting as sweat beaded on your forehead. Soap let out a rumbling laugh as he kept his face pressed into your cunt, desperately trying to bring you over the edge. 

Lifting your head to look at him, you saw his hips driving desperately into the bed where the sheets had bundled up underneath his crotch. You managed to find your voice. 

“I taste that good huh? You gonna come just from eating me out?” He nodded eagerly, fingers curling and pumping into you with renewed intensity, heat curling viciously in your gut. 

“So fucking good. So fucking good fer me.” He mumbled; eyes boring into yours. “Please… I’m so fucking close. Need you tae come fer me, aye?” 

You nodded, panting, watching him as he focused his attention solely on you, humming softly as you felt your cunt throb with intense need, the feeling in your belly growing. 

“Johnny— oh fuck, please. Please!” Your legs twitched as your hips hitched upward and, with a cry of his name, you let yourself go, pussy spasming around his fingers as he groaned into your cunt, happily lapping at your juices as you climaxed. 

As you calmed down, body sagging into the bed, you looked down at Soap who was resting his head against your thigh, eyes glazed as he grinned up at you smugly. 

“Enjoy yerself there?” 

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it too.” You bit back, wiping your brow as you grinned lazily down at him. “I can see the mess in your underwear.” 

Soap simply shrugged, rolling onto his back to remove his underwear, wiping the remnants of his cum from his dick before sliding himself up the bed to settle next to you. 

“I said ye tasted fucking divine.” 

“Shut up, Johnny.” You pushed him slightly and he laughed, wrapping his arm around you. 

“We should keep this going.” He murmurs softly, glancing up at you. Blinking in surprise, you look over at him. 

“Thought you didn’t do relationships, MacTavish.” You warned, mostly for your own sake. He simply shrugged. 

“Wouldnae mind having ye ‘round to take some more photos with.” He said simply, nestling into the crook of your neck. “And I wouldnae mind eating that cunt every mornin’.” 

You rolled your eyes, but threaded your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly as he cuddled in close. 

“So those pictures we took are going to waste then, since you’re keeping me around?” You tease, poking his nose. He sniffs. 

“Gonna send them tae you instead. Make ye think about naught but my steamin’ hot body every meeting.” 

You smacked him over the head as you laughed, shaking your head at him. 

“Price’ll kill you if he finds out.” 

“Worth it.” He mumbles once more, squeezing you closer as he pressed a kiss to the base of your neck. 

[imaginesig]

“I was enchanted to meet you”

Kimi Antonelli x Norris!Reader

SMAU + Written parts

You’re Lando Norris’s little sister (18) and a spark flares up with a notable F2 driver (18) , how does everything go down?

Bonus: “I had the best day with you today”

I wanted to state that as I’m writing this I am 17 years old, on top of that I am an American. I do not know how to be 17/18 as a Brit so I did a bit of research but I’m not 100% confident. I gave Y/n an internship bc I assumed she’d be at the end of her secondary schooling. Sorry if that’s wildly off base.

~~~

A laugh erupted from my chest as a balled up sucky note made contact with Kimi’s forehead. I quickly grab my takeout lid to block his response attack. Only when I heard the ball make contact with the plastic did I relax my shield. On the other side, Kimi laid out on my hotel bed in sleep pants and a racing sweatshirt. His messy curls barely moved as he laughed. The soft light of the hotel lamp illuminated the scene like some kind of dream.

In here, it was a dream. No pressure, loud engines, cruel media, or annoying deadlines tainting the scene. It was authentic; our looks to each other were obvious, no sneaky glances.

In one smooth motion I moved from the desk chair to the opposite side of the bed from him. Propped up on my side, I mustered my best reporter voice, “So Mr. Antonelli, you've touched down in beautiful Barcelona a few hours ago and are gearing up for the weekend. The Spanish Grand Prix is known for its special conditions: corners of varying speeds, high chance of tyre wear, and many openings for overtakes. How confident are you in the car for this weekend? Any good strategies in the works to take advantage of rough tyre conditions the other teams will face?

Kimi and I laughed so hard we both turned red, “Well Ms. Norris it looks like someone’s done their homework.”

“It is my job” I shrug, “I also just love turn 9. I quite literally look forward to it every year.”

“Of course you love the hard one,” Kimi pulled his arm out from under his weight and fell into the bed.

“No sir, you have to go. Dont get comfortable,” I said.

“Y/n” kimi whines.

“No,” I laugh, “you need to go back to your own room.” With a huff and a few more comments Kimi is reminded of the reality outside of the hotel room, one where he has to return to his own room and wake up alone. With a hug and kiss, Kimi is on his way and I turn back to start cleaning up. Next to the takeout trash, my work bag also lays unpacked. I fall into a steady rhythm of tidying before bed while my mind wanders off to my secret relationship.

Kimi and I got together right before this season started. We met last season at a couple of different Motorsport events and spent the season getting closer. Then we spent the offseason working through the new depth added to our friendship. And now, we’re navigating unforgiving media who might not take our relationship too well and potentially ruin it.

With a yawn I finish up my task and head to bed. I go to turn off my bedside lamp and notice a goodnight message from Kimi.

~~~

yn_norris

liked by kimi.antonelli, landonorris, user1, and 918,289 others

yn_norris: Barcelona, you have kept me busy 🥴

tagged: no one

Lilyzneimer my busy bee!! Best gp watch buddy ever, you always keep me updated with the top info 💖💖

yn_norris love you sm 💖💖 thank you for letting the teammates sister join you

user1 my fav intern 😍😍

user2 she always delivers 👏👏

user8 and grinds until the end everyday

landonorris wow I don’t even get shown, I’m hurt

yn_norris I completely flooded my stories with celebrations and you when you won. This is my moment

landonorris proud of your work always!!

yn_norris🫶🫶🫶

martagarcialopez19 pleasure to be interviewed by you!!

maya_weug lovely panel❤️🏎️

hamdaalqubaisi_official women in motorsports forever!!

user3 I love how Y/n and Lando always have 2 comment threads with varying emotions under every post

user4 KIMI IN THE LIKES???

user5 he stays in her likes

user6 tbh most of the F2/F1 academy drivers are, between her being Landos little sister and covering them the most with her job/internship they’ve gotten familiar

user7 exactly, even her and Ollie Bearman have reported they talk and could consider themselves in a friendship

user8 Abbi Pulling and Hamda Al Qubaisi have been known to hang out with Y/n apart from the track

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~~~

It was a beautiful sunny day in Barcelona, Spain. I was so thankful I was able to take a few remote work days so I’d be able to stay another day and explore. It all worked out perfectly because both my brother and his teammate invited me to join their exploration and Kimi was able to get a late flight.

With the sun shining and birds singing I made my way down a less crowded street and was met by my boyfriend snapping photos of the scenery around him. I decide to quicken my pace and give him a hug.

“Hello there,” he says surprised. A chuckle escapes his mouth once he’s turned around to reciprocate the affection.

“Hi,�� I smile. I look around as he pulled back and saw the iconic kissing mural surrounded by greenery, “wow.”

“Pretty right,” he says.

“Beautiful,” I gush,”let’s get a photo.” Kimi nods and I set my phone up to record a video to screen record to screen shot from since there was no one around at the early hour.

“How do you wanna pose?”

“Let’s kiss and really be that couple, you know,” I joke.

“Come here then,” the warm air and slight breeze made the moment feel like a fairytale. The world melted away as I enjoyed the sweet kiss. For a moment it felt like we were out to the world. But when the kiss ended, I felt disappointment that no one has seen us. Part of me grew restless with the secret keeping, “I found a really cute place for breakfast I think you’ll like it.”

We walked hand in hand down the quiet streets, passing by locals going through their morning chores. Soon enough we arrived at a small restaurant and were sat outside. Concealed by aged buildings, the place itself was low traffic and gave up peace of mind.

“Smile,” I look back towards Kimi from the surrounding scenery to see him holding up his camera. We took a couple of different shots before returning to conversation.

“I had the weirdest feeling earlier,” I start. Kimi looks a little concerned, “when we took that kissing photo I wanted someone to see. I wanted our relationship to get out.”

“I’ve been feeling the same way. It’s been and is so nice to have our little bubble, but part of me just wants to be and not worry about the when and where.”

“Exaclty my feelings. I’m glad we’re talking about this, let’s let the idea sit for a little while longer and then we can come up with a plan. I’m scared to rush into an announcement and not be ready for the outcome.” Kimi agrees and we fall into other topics of conversation over breakfast. After we go to an outdoor market and look around. I purchase some trinkets for other interns at the office who cover other sports. As the air slowly got hotter, Kimi’s time with me got shorter. Eventually it was time to take him back to the hotel to take a ride to the airport. We said our goodbyes and he promised to call me when he landed.

I quickly traveled to the lunch spot my brother informed me to meet the group at. We spent the rest of the day enjoying the scenery, taking cool photos, and just enjoying each others company since extra days like this were scarce.

Too soon the sun went down and our activities ended. Back in my hotel room I worked in the soft lamplight and prepared for my flight back to reality tomorrow.

~~~

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, lilyzniemer, user91, and 928,827 others

oscarpiastri: pro tip: never explore with the Norris siblings, they’ll make a scene everywhere

tagged: lilyzneimer, landonorris, yn_norris

yn_norris ummm this is embarrassing you seemed to have misspelled “Y/n thank you so much for the adorable pic of me and Lily! Thankfully your skill is far superior to your brothers so I was able to post one”

landonorris you twat

yn_norris I mean he didn’t post yours so…

oscarpiastri that’s it I’m getting a restraining order on you guys

landonorris we only made a couple…

oscarpiastri yea bc Y/n was only with us a few hours

user1 LMAO THE BIKE PHOTO

user2 they were ready to square up

yn_norris I kicked his ass

user2 OMG SHE REPLIED

user3 everytime I see a Y/n and Lily interaction it always gives little and big sis🥹

user4 omg ikr!! It makes me so happy that even though her bio sisters aren’t able to be with her 24/7 she has someone at gps and such

user5 what I wouldn’t give to explore the world with this group

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kimi.antonelli

Liked by user4, yn_norris, olliebearman, and 819,728 others

Kimi.antonelli: Barcelona, beautiful as always 👏

tagged:no one

olliebearman 💪💪

Prema_team glad to see the weekend allowed for relaxation 😎

user1 happy with the results this weekend!!

user2 ok scenic shot

user3 Kimi is coming for Y/n with the digital camera effect

user4 I wonder why it’s only on the last photo tho?

user5 maybe this is where she was when she wasn’t with the McLaren boys…

user6 ok grandma get back to bed

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Yn_norris

liked by kimi.antonelli, carlossainz55, abbiepulling, and 718,828 others

Yn_norris: España, mi amor

Tagged: lilyzniemer

oscarpiatri so glad my gf make the post and I didn’t

yn_norris cry me a river

landonorris who took the first pic you don’t have any friends other than me 🤨🤨

yn_norris choke

carlossainz55 always love your love of Spain 🇪🇸♥️

yn_norris with every bit of my heart!!

Riabish gorgeous!!

abbiepulling travel looks gorgeous on you

yn_norris 💋💋

user1 she ate this up

user2 first pic >>>>>

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yn_norris posted a story!

Caption: I get door dashed coffee even when he’s thousands of miles away 🫶🫶

Replies:

landonorris

who what when where why

idk, it’s coffee for those of us who don’t have the energy of a seven year old, this morning, my office, bc I’m loved

wdym “idk”

Y/n are you soft launching?? Your own brother doesn’t get to know before Instagram

I have a plan no fear

🙄

Kimi.antonelli

I’ve discovered you can special order a message or simple drawings through the app too

I can see that

so be prepared, there’s so much more where than came from

as much as I love this and would love to see what you come up with, I can get my own coffee

not happening

lmao ok

Not my hill to die on

I love you

I love you too, have a great day

Oscarpiastri

your bother is pacing

Lmao good

Let him squirm

Yes ma’am 🫡

~~~

The smell of exhaust fills my senses and V6s roar across the track. Lando and I were currently camped out in the Prema garage with our eyes glued to the screen. We let out a few comments and had mini conversations throughout.

When Kimi’s car cross the finish line the enter building jumped up. As the crew and engineers all ran out to the baraxade. I decided do lead Lando over where the podium is interviewed before the cool down room so we don’t interrupt team celebrations. We stand meters away so we don’t bother anyone but I still might be able to sent Kimi a thumbs up and a wink.

“I didn’t know you two got so close,” Lando mused as we still admits the buzzing padock.

“Well you know through other friends I’ve made from tagging alone to events and races with you we were bound to meet, especially with him being Ollies teammate this season,” Lando nods at that. “So how are you feeling about your race, the home ones always a big deal.”

“I’m super excited, but the nerves of potentially messing things up are there,” he confesses, “I want to win really bad.”

“Call it reporter’s gut but I feel-“ suddenly I was cut off my someone yelling my name.

“Y/n!” Kimi is sprinting over to us. So much for not making a scene, I think.

“Kimi! You did it!” I yelled back. Soon, he was a meter away and not stopping. I was grabbed along with him and brought a couple steps away as he slowed down. Before I could even comprehend the previous action, Kimi let out another victory cheer, grabbed my face, and kissed me in the middle of the paddock. The adrenaline and joy from his win charged the kiss from both ends. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. All those kisses in hotel room or hidden corners of the world were put to shame, this was the kiss. I was so focused on the moment that I didn’t remember that there were eyes on us everywhere, including the eyes of my brother.

“Y/n- I- What!” Lando stuttered with wide eyes. He still stood in our previous spot and seemed to be stuck there. After a moment of staring back, I realized my hands had come up to rest on Kimi’s biceps.

I quickly jumped back before turning to look at Kimi again, “Hey, I’m so proud! We can catch up and all that later. Go do your media stuff, I love you.” I wave him off and walk back to Lando, “before you say anything we need to talk privately.”

Once we find a quiet place I begin explains everything, “And that’s brings us up to now. We had a plan to slow launch and then during that time we hoped to tell family and close friends before anyone else. I swear this weekend was the one-“ he cut me off.

“Y/n don’t worry, I can tell the adrenaline got to him,” he smirks, “I know the feeling well.”

“Ew, ew Lando please stop there,” I cringe. “Are you sure you’re not mad? It wasn’t supposed to come out this way, especially not to you.”

“I’m fine. Granted I only saw a few seconds of that this relationship is but any man who’s gonna come running to you after a race before even heading to a mandatory interview or cool down then he’s a good one. Also you can’t fool me, your eyes lit up and you forgot I was even next to you when he showed up. I’m happy for you,” Lando pulled me into a bear hug.

“I love you Lan.”

“I love you too,” he pulled back and added,” but mum might be so give her a ring before she finds out.”

We both laugh before I FaceTime the family group chats for round 2 of explaining.

~~~

f1updates

Liked by user82, user282, user1, and 173,827 others

f1updates: After his first F2 win, Kimi Antonelli kisses Lando Norris’s little sister in the middle of the paddock! Videos from multiple sources have been reposted on our Twitter account.

tagged: Kimi.antonelli, yn_norris

used1 WHAT

user2 this was not on my 2024 bingo card

used3 after watching the videos it was right out of a romance movie

user4 the way he sprinted to her while ignoring everything else

user5 lando’s face killed me

user6 he was just as shocked as we are

Load more

kimi.antonelli

liked by yn_norris, user43, prema_racing, and 918,828 others

Kimi.antonelli: maiden win anyone??

tagged: prema_racing, mercadesamgf1, yn_norris

yn_norris “where’s the trophy? He just comes running over to me” 🤭🤭

Kimi.antonelli ❤️❤️

landonorris 😑

yn_norris fuck off

prema_racing that’s our boy 👏🏆

User1 KIMI IS A RACE WINNER

user2 anyone else absolutely die when he kissed her

user3 yea I think Lando almost did

user4 Y/n’s comment 😭😭

carlossainz55 the last pic 🤨

danielriccardo so it is true

landonorris OF COURSE ITS TRUE A VIDEO HAS BEEN TRENDING ON TWITTER

Carlossainz55 honestly I couldn’t understand half of what you were saying but he could be worse

landonorris mate.

danielriccardo I say shovel talk before his next race see how he celebrates then

yn_norris no no no yall are done scheming in my boyfriends comment section

load more

~~~

The British Grand Prix had been a rollercoaster for the younger Norris who sat in the coverage of the McLaren garage watching the race. Kimi and I had sent a few messages about the race but since Lando lost his lead during his pit in lap 40 I have been zoned in. I’ve been praying since Lewis passed that something would happen, that by a miracle Lando would regain his lead. Unfortunately as the laps dwindled, Lando lost time between the winner and in lap 49 Max had successfully overtaken him. Sighs and cuss words could be heard all throughout the building. My head fell into my hands as I watched the race though hooded eyelids, weight down with sadness.

When the race was over I slowly took the same path Lando and I had taken yesterday towards the media area. I flashed by badge once again and found a stop on the r of the action. Eventually, Lando made his way to Jensen and completed his interview.

“Hey,” I said empathetically as I pulled him into a hug. “I know you hate this and I know you’re upset. Lando, you hold yourself to the highest standard imaginable, but please know you did great. Third place is still a handful of points and now you’ve gotten more experience so you and the team can make better calls in the future. This wasn’t a race that you could predict, you had to roll with the punches and you did. I’m so proud of you and now I have a new trophy I can steal for my future apartments decor!”

Lando let out a loud chuckle before he hit me on the head, “you’re not getting my trophies you muppet.”

“That’s what you think,” I fired back before he pulls me into another hug, this one more playful than the last. I waved him off to the cool down room and said a quick congratulations to Lewis before heading to get a spot with McLaren for the podium ceremony.

~~~

landonorris

Liked by yn_norris, user3, mclaren, and 819,928 others

landonorris: Silverstone I love you, my sister not so much ❤️ congrats on the win @/lewishamilton, we’ll review, do better, and come get you next time 😜

Tagged: lewishamilton

yn_norris I cried real tears @/lewishamilton

yn_norris you fought hard, it was entertaining race. Love you to the moon and back🫶🫶

landonorris love you to the moons and back twice 🫶

user1 HELLO?? THIS IS TO SWEEET

used2 with no warning either 😭😭

yn_norris also for the record I did nothing

Kimi.antonelli ok now I said I was sorry

user3 why war McLarens strategy all messed up this week

Kimi.antonelli great driving today 💪

landonorris 😑

yn_norris lando try that again.

landonorris 👍

user4 you still did great!!

user5 lmao the jab at Y/n 😭😭

Load more

yn_norris

liked by danielriccardo, olliebearman, user88, and 198,828 others

yn_norris big weekend :)

tagged: landonorris, kimi.antonelli

landonorris big weekend? BIG WEEKEND? THATS ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY??

yn_norris I mean a lot happened

danielriccardo I think that trophy was kissed better than you

yn_norris 🙄✋

Kimi.antonelli love you ♥️

yn_norris love you too ♥️

user1 her and Lando 🥹🥹

olliebearman thanks for the support on your off weekend 👏👏

yn_norris anytime care bear

user2 “care bear” IM CRYING YN YOU CANT DO MY MAN LIKE THAT

user3 the McLaren flag slays so hard

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kimi.antonelli

Liked by yn_norris, landonorris, used928, and 727,828 others

Kimi.antonelli: I owe an apology to Y/n for ruining our soft launch on a whim, Lando for doing it front of you, and my family for not telling you guys sooner. But that’s all besides the point because I can finally say LOOK AT MY GIRLFRIEND

tagged: yn_norris

yn_norris omg I love you ♥️

Kimi.antonelli I love you more ♥️

user1 the uppercase at the end he’s so cute 😭😭

user2 you can tell he’s so excited

oscarpiastri so does the Barcelona photo prove that’s who Y/n was with that morning?

landonorris no shot they snuck around right under my nose

Kimi.antonelli no comment

yn_norris not my fault you’re an idiot who doesn’t ask enough questions

landonorris oh just you wait for my questions now

Oscarpiastri oh look now you’ve opened Pandora’s box y/n

carlossainz55 I guess I like you

Kimi.antonelli that’s comforting?

Carlossainz55 be happy it’s not hate

yn_norris he’s a tad bit overprotective

danielriccardo you’ve got balls kid, I respect it

Kimi.antonelli thank you 😁

user3 pls not this summoning all of Landos old teammates

user4 guess he’s not the only one they’ve grown attatched to

landonorris this is cute ig

Kimi.antonelli I’m taking this as a win

yn_norris don’t act all grumpy on main

load more

yn_norris

liked by Danielriccardo, user817, Kimi.antonelli, and 817,828 others

yn_norris: “this night is sparkling, don’t you let it go”

tagged: Kimi.antonelli

Kimi.antonelli fav taylor song 🫶🫶

yn_norris see aren’t you glad I made you listen to it

user1 Kimi is an Enchanted stan???

landonorris wtf is that last picture

yn_norris 🤷🏼‍♀️

user2 I love them so much 😭😭

User3 she dedicated Enchanted to him?? Girlie is in deep

Carlossainz55 does he make you happy?

danielriccardo this is is a very important question

yn_norris very 🥰

landonorris cancel the plans guys

Kimi.antonelli I’m scared

load more

yn_norris

Liked by lilyzniemer, user4, carlossainze55, and 981,828 others

yn_norris: he’s family approved ☀️😌

tagged: Kimi.antontelli

Kimi.antonelli Aunt Y/n 😍

landonorris absolutely not

danielriccardo I’m watching you

carlossainz55 stop right there

yn_norris do you guys always materialize in time to ruin the fun 😒

oscarpiastri 👶🚫

yn_norris OSCAR YOU TOO???

Landonorris take that helmet off her now, Uncle Lala’s is the only one allowed

yn_norris possessive much

user1 I can never tell how Lando feels about Kimi

user2 right mixed signals much? He bullies him in insta comments but openly supports him irl

user3 speaking from personal experience, that’s just him being an annoying older brother

lilyzniemer the matching outfits 🥰🥰

abbiepulling they are too cute!!!

yn_norris I love you both 🫶🫶

Load more

[exhaslo]

Puzzle Pieces Ch14

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13

Warning: Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, heavy abuse (pls call someone if you are dealing with domestic abuse), blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex, praise

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Miguel sat in his living room with a small glass of vodka in his hands. The room was dark and cold. Miguel was waiting for you to come back with Lyla and Jessica. After what happened earlier, Miguel could not stay at Alchemax. He would have lost his cool to whoever came in with bad news next.

Upon hearing giggling, Miguel exhaled softly. He leaned back in his seat and ran his hand through his hair. He closed his eyes for only a moment as he brought the glass to his lips. He could hear your soft laugh as you opened the door,

"A-Are you sure...I can pull off that kind of dress?" You giggled, hiding your smile. Lyla followed behind you,

"Girl, yes!" She chirped and noticed how dark the place was, "Oh geez, Miguel, you are not a vampire!" She huffed, seeing his glowing red eyes. You flinched and turned towards Miguel,

"W-Were you waiting long?" You hurried over to him, wrapping your arms around his back. Miguel hugged you back,

"No, Mi pequeño conejito (my little bunny)." He whispered, placing his glass down, "Did you have fun?" He asked. You smiled and nodded,

"Yep~" You chirped and turned towards Lyla and Jessica, "It was one of the best days I've had with girls. T-Thank you so much for t-today."

"Of course. If you ever want another day like this, just ask." Miguel kissed your head and glanced at his two workers, "Good job, enjoy the rest of your night."

"Bye Boss!" Lyla chirped as Jessica just nodded in response.

You waved towards the two, happy to have hung out with them. You covered Miguel's eyes as the driver brought up the bags, not wanting him to see what you got. After you found a good hiding spot, you hurried back to Miguel and hugged him once more.

"Thank you," You whispered into his chest. Miguel picked you up,

"Amor (love), I don't want anything to feel rushed. What's mine is yours and this will be your home now too. Just be as comfortable as you want. I can have the rest of your stuff picked up tomorrow." Miguel said as he brought you to his large couch.

"I-I go too. I just...want to make sure everything is picked up." You frowned at the thought, "I...I just can't believe...t-the nerve of them! M-Marriage s-should be my choice! Not theirs!"

"Hehe," Miguel chuckled lowly as your face turned red, "Sorry, baby, but hearing you raise your voice is quite adorable. But fear not, you are not going to marry that asshole. I'm going to make sure of it."

"Mhm, Miggy, I'm sorry...I'm causing so m-many problems-"

"You're not," Miguel reassured you with a kiss, "I'm here for resolve all of your problems, no matter how big or small. Your parents can't marry you if they don't know where you are," He hummed.

You felt your heart skip a beat as you kissed Miguel back. Once you got the rest of your things, your parents had no way of finding you. It was a scary thought, but even changing your phone number seemed like an option at this point.

You needed to cut the toxic out of your life.

"I have another surprise for you, but I'll give it to you when you're completely moved in."

"Miggy, you're g-going to s-spoil me~"

"You deserve it, amor."

---------

Miguel was against you going back to your place. He wanted to have his men take care of your belongings, but how could he say no to your begs? Your nerves were kicking in and you wanted to make sure that everything was grabbed.

Miguel only let you go as long as you messaged him every few minutes. He had this gut feeling, but he also had important meetings and deadlines to take care of today. Just to play it safe, Miguel had Peter join you.

"He better not say anything stupid." Miguel hissed lowly.

----------

"Oh you should have seen Miguel's face when I brought Mayday to work one day! Ha! It was like he's never seen a baby cause so much destruction!" Peter roared in laughter as he should you pictures of his baby.

You chuckled towards his jokes, feeling a little bit better about the day already. You felt like there were butterflies in your stomach. Once you arrived at your apartment building, you heard Peter tell you to wait. Confused, you sat in the car as he got out and walked around the building.

"Um...I-Is e-everything...alright?" You asked in a whisper once he returned. Peter smiled towards you,

"Just gotta make sure it's safe. We all kind of have this gut feeling and act on it." He reassured you and helped you out of the car once the moving van arrived,

"I-I'll show y-you guys the way." You muttered, texting Miguel as you made your way upstairs.

This felt so surreal. It felt like just yesterday that you moved into this place. And now, once again, you were moving out because of your parents and ex. Hopefully, this would be the last time you do so.

You helped Peter and the others grab your things, making sure that everything you wanted was taken. Once the apartment started to get empty, Peter told you that he was going to meet with the landlord really quick. You nodded and stayed behind in your apartment to double check.

"It...feels so...empty," You whispered.

Glancing at the time, you were about to text Miguel before you heard a knock at the door. The movers had already finished and left, so this must be Peter. Whispering your final goodbye to the place, you went to the door and gasped in horror.

"Missed us, sweetheart?" Eddie said with a wide smirk.

"E-E-Eddie?!"

"Y-Y-Yes. Fuck, still stuttering like a little baby. How the fuck did you manage to seduce anyone with that annoying habit?" Eddie spat as he pushed you back into the apartment, "Awe, what's wrong? Aren't you going to apologize for running away? Making me work harder to find your fucking ass?"

"N-No-Ah!" You cried as Eddie shoved you onto the floor.

"You FUCKING made my life harder! Had to waste time to hunt you down! I needed you to fucking HELP me for once and where the fuck were you?! Jumping on some other dude's dick!"

"S-Sor...S-Sorry." You cried, holding your head as Eddie went to kick you.

"Sorry doesn't fucking cut it! To make matters worse, the fucking supermarket got bought out! It's going to be harder for you to slide the drugs in now! So I'm going to need you to be a good fucking girl and sell my drugs with your body. Then maybe, just fucking maybe I'll forgive you."

You were a sobbing mess. Eddie was screaming in your ear, forcing you to listen to him as he pulled you up by your hair. It was as if you never left. Why did you even think you were going to have a better life in the city?

"ANSWER US, BITCH!!"

"M-Miguel," You cried loudly. Eddie tossed you onto the floor and was ready to kick you again,

"You never fucking le-"

At that moment, Eddie was flung into the nearby wall. You were shaking like a leaf, but felt something cover your body. Frighten, you poked your head from under your hand and saw Miguel standing before you, furious.

"M-M-Mig..." You whimpered, overwhelmed with joy. Miguel exhaled loudly, glancing down at you,

"Baby, I'm going to need you to close your eyes and cover your ears. I'm not going to be able to hold back."

You did as he said and proceeded to cover yourself under his jacket. The only thing you could hear were muffled grunts and screams.

-----------

Miguel came in like a rabbis beast. All he heard was that Eddie was near the area and Miguel came running. When he saw Peter knocked out, Miguel nearly lost all his reasoning. Well, he never had some towards Eddie to begin with.

But, everything changed when he heard yelling.

The mere fact that Eddie had the audacity to raise his voice towards you, was disgusting. No man should ever treat a woman like that. As Miguel grew closer, he heard your cries. It was when you cried for his name and Miguel broke the door down in a frenzy and punched the living shit out of Eddie.

Unable to think straight as he saw you on the floor, Miguel was about to kill Eddie right here and now. It was until you whimpered that Miguel threw his jacket over your body and came back to reality.

He needed to torture Eddie.

Not kill him.

Yet.

Miguel rolled his sleeves up as he approached Eddie. The pathetic man already cussing over a broken nose. As if that was all he was going to end up with.

"So you're the new man, huh? Isn't she an easy fuck do-"

"Cierra la maldita boca, cerdo asqueroso. (Shut your fucking mouth, you disgusting pig)." Miguel spat as he swung another fist towards Eddie's face, "You're lucky that I'm not going to kill you here and now. No, I have much more saved up for you."

"Heh, you...have no idea...who you're messing with," Eddie spat out blood, smirking towards Miguel.

Miguel just laughed.

"Oh, it's the other way around." He whispered, his red orbs shining brightly, "You messed with the future wife of my family. It's you who fucked with the wrong mafia."

Eddie's smile immediately disappeared as Miguel threw another punch. Once Miguel saw blood, it was as if he could not stop. Miguel's fists kept swinging one after the other. He eventually stopped when Peter finally came by and called his name out. By then, you couldn't even recognize Eddie.

"Take him to the base."

"Miguel-"

"NOW!" Miguel roared.

Waiting for Peter to drag Eddie's unconscious body away, Miguel quickly washed his hands. He hurried over to you, carefully picking you up. His face was flushed with anger as he saw the state you were in.

"Aye, baby, I'm sorry I wasn't here any sooner," Miguel's tone was hurt as he showered you with kisses. You just sobbed and wrapped your arms around his neck,

"Y-You came!" Was all you kept repeating. Miguel groaned lowly as he held your head to his neck,

"I'm sorry, amor. Let me take you to the hospital to get you checked up." He whispered.

Miguel refused to let you go the whole time. You had cried yourself to sleep, which did worry the nurses at first; however, Miguel had a special relationship with the hospital so all was good. He was able to stay by your side the whole time.

---------

You gasped, waking up with a cold sweat. Miguel immediately grabbed your hand, reassuring you that everything was okay. When you realized that you were fine, you started to cry again. Miguel came and saved you.

"T-Thank...T-Thank you," You buried yourself in his chest, ripping onto his jacket tightly. Miguel's hand was on your head,

"(Y/N), there's something I need to tell you," He said with a soft sigh. You rubbed your eyes,

"Hm?" Miguel's brows furrowed, "Miggy, you can tell me anything..j-just as I can with y-you."

"I know, I know," Miguel sat beside you on the bed and stroked your cheek, "(Y/N), I want you to know that I'm going to kill Eddie. But, it's not just for you, you see, he's been ruining my other business."

"Other? Not...Alchemax?" You questioned. Miguel wiped a tear away,

"No, conejita (bunny), I have another job. One a bit more sensitive and secret. I want you to know that I do my best to keep this city safe from a lot of bad things," He sighed softly. You were still a little confused, but scooted closer to him,

"It's okay, Miggy. I love you no matter what," You said shyly. Miguel groaned at your confession,

"(Y/N), I'm the leader of the Spider Mafia. I run this whole city and keep it safe, keep normies like you, safe, from people like Eddie." Miguel whispered, pulling you into his embrace, "I will never, ever, hurt you or break your trust. Which is why I'm telling you now. I am going to kill Eddie."

"..." You gripped Miguel's chest, biting your lower lip as tears started to form, "I-Is...I-Is it...Is it wrong...f-for me to be o-okay with that?" You asked with a whimper. Miguel reassured you with a smile,

"Of course it is. After everything's he's put you through. I'm going to make sure he suffers tenfold."

You cried softly as you hugged Miguel. You wanted to say you had an inkling to his secret life, but that would be a lie. You were so blinded by love that you didn't care. Right now, you still didn't. Miguel still treated you right. Miguel still cared about you.

"I-I love you, M-Miguel! T-Thank you. Thank you!" You cried on repeat. Miguel just held you close, stroking your hair,

"I love you too. I'm going to make sure everybody who's wrong you get's what they deserve."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

next chapter

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddi @openup-yourmind @black-swan-blog27 @xstarsdiary @kiddisquacking @gachagator @yujyujj @emmyrxx @blackteamint @sockears @black-swan-blog27 @soraya-daydreams @byjessicalotufo @nanoinn @bunnibitez @aockskcw @l3laze @dimitri-needs-therapy

[peachybeom]

Stress Relief ♡

sfw, soobin x reader, college au.

blonde fluffy soobin is so cute ill eat him-

Soobin hurriedly made his way to your apartment, taking the stairs instead of the elevator believing the latter took more time.

He had been trying to reach you for almost a day now but got no response. Growing impatient, Soobin had left you texts and voice notes but unfortunately all of those remained unanswered as well.

Finally giving up on waiting, your boyfriend had contacted your roommate-who was out for the weekend, for the apartment passcode as he made up his mind to go check on you himself.

He punched the code in the machine and anxiously opened the door to look for you. His eyes scanned the living room for a few seconds, until they fell on a huddled figure sitting down on the floor.

You were hunching down, sitting cross legged resting your head gently on the table in front of you. Your eyes were shut tightly while your lips parted slightly letting out soft periodic breaths.

Soobin quietly closed the door before him and lowered himself to your level, he let out a breath of relief and gazed at your soft features before brushing a few wild strands of hair from your face.

You stirred lightly at his touch but showed no signs of waking up, that was when Soobin noticed all the books and pens and crumbled papers that surrounded your sleeping figure, you were even holding a pen between your fingers as you slept.

The smile fell from Soobin's face as soon as it had appeared because he realised how tired you must have been. Your college midterms were about to commence in about two weeks and you were determined to work your ass off for it, even it meant studying vigorously without taking any breaks.

As much as Soobin wanted to support you through this tough time, his resources were limited too as he was a film major and you a medical one. Plus past few months had been hard on him too, constantly busy finishing assignments and reaching deadlines.

Soobin hated seeing you stressed but he had promised to not bother you for an entire month during your midterms because he really didn't want to be a distraction, though he would almost text you daily and occasionally call, to check up on you and your studies.

Though you both weren’t able to talk for long, just hearing your voice once in a while was enough for Soobin to go on.

You time and again reassured him that you were doing fine but witnessing the current situation, it was clear that you clearly were not and had been pulling one too many all nighters.

 You gently moved and rubbed your eyes sleepily as the sound of clinking cutlery awoke you to consciousness.

You stretched your arms behind your back and were ready to yell at your roommate for being so loud- when you turned your head and spotted an all too familiar figure in the kitchen.

"Soobin!" You exclaimed loudly, grabbing the boy's attention.

Your boyfriend turned around and raised both of his hands towards his sides, a bright smile appearing on his face as he spoke

"Hi bunny,"

"I'm sorry if I accidentally woke you up, I actually came over to check on you because -"

His words were cut off when you-in a matter of seconds strode across the room and wrapped your arms around his tall body.

"There there, easy tiger" Soobin chuckled patting your hair with his hand.

"I missed you so much" You mumbled, burying your face in his shirt.

"That's why you are wearing my hoodie- the one I thought I had lost months ago" Soobin said in a teasing tone.

"Yeah, it's actually really comfortable, I need to raid your closet more often" You replied, looking up- God you missed his beautiful face.

Soobin laughed before gently breaking the hug between the two of you and placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I missed you too baby, I got so worried that maybe you had fallen sick or something because you weren’t picking up my calls or answering to my messages.” He said while caressing your cheek.

You felt a pang of guilt for making Soobin worried like this.

“Sorry, I’d put my phone on silent while studying and did not even realise when I fell asleep” You mumbled.

That’s when he noticed the light bags under your eyes and the pale color of your skin.

"You should take a break Y/N, you deserve it," Soobin said in a concerned tone before placing another kiss on your face.

"Yeah, you're right I really should," You sighed heavily.

"Great! so I'll just finish cooking this ramen, then we can try to clean up the mess that is your living room and have a movie night?"

 After having dinner- which tasted so good, even though it was just regular ramen. Soobin let you pick a movie which could help you unwind.

You both were halfway through the movie when your eyes began to drift sideways rather than being on the screen.

It was a good movie, it really was! But whenever Soobin was around you, you could focus on nothing but him. His pretty face demanded attention all the damn time, even if that wasn't his intention.

The movie still had a long way to go but you were growing restless. You extended your arm towards your boyfriend and placed your palm on top of his open one.

Soobin absent-mindedly curled his fingers against yours intertwining your fingers, too absorbed in the movie playing before him.

Next, you raised your other hand and grazed your fingers on his ear, softly pulling down the earlobe. This made Soobin turn to face you, his eyebrows furrowed together in curiosity.

You wordlessly ran a hand through his fluffy blonde hair before running a finger down his nose and giving it a light tap.

"What are you doing," Soobin asked letting out a breathy laugh.

You finally got up to and placed yourself on either side of his knee, strangling him between your legs on the couch. Then you placed your palms on both his cheeks and squeezed them between your hands.

"You are like my stress relief squishy. I want to pull you, squeeze you, poke you and viola all the stress is gone," You answered in a cheeky tone.

Soobin laughed loudly at your answer, his eyes closing and forming cute little crescent shapes.

"Jeez that's one weird way of saying you want to make out with me, bunny."

He then put his hand on your waist pulling you closer to him till your noses touched and whispered,

"Bet a squishy can't to this though,"

Soobin captured your lips between his and you let out a surprised squeak but almost melted under his touch right after, hands now grabbing the soft material of his shirt.

Soobin's mouth travelled down leaving small kisses as he made his way through. One hand teasing the waist band of your pyjama while the other slipping under the oversized hoodie. You let out a sigh of contentment and bliss, taking you away from all the anxieties and worries of the past week.

Holding onto him tightly, eyes closed, feeling him all over you, you realised being close to Soobin was really the best way to relieve stress.

[ficthots]

Tracking

A/N: Wow, just yeah. I know it's been a long while since I posted for Peter, but like I promised, I was working on things for him and here it is! Now, I'll crawl back into my cave until my next writing is ready. As always let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Word Count: 6.4K+

Time is a fucking thief. Really, it is. Waking up with the rising of the sun, getting ready to go to a job you despised, remaining in a windowless cubicle for eight hours, making dinner, then time to sleep again. Watching the clock as each passing minute was taken from you over and over again. Now when you throw being a superhero into the mix, it makes it even worse.

Holding down relationships, careers, any and all of the important things in life were always seemingly snatched away when it came to the personal life of crime fighting vigilante Spider-Man. That’s why when you entered his life it was like getting another opportunity to engage with time he had never experienced before.

Looking forward to coming home and eating dinner, stopping by on patrol nights to give you a goodnight kiss no matter what, to Peter Parker, he would do everything in his power to devote as much time as he possibly could to you.

Perhaps you were the time thief in his life now. Either way he didn’t mind when it came to you.

Were there times when it just simply wasn’t possible to shovel all of his waking energy towards you? Of course! The problems came when it had been that way for months. Yeah, you read that right.

In the span of four months, Peter had become so ravaged with his other entities responsibilities that his time with you was drastically rescinded. Unanswered text messages for days, not a peep from him for a week at a time, no more windowsill kisses. It was like he had vanished into thin air.

You understood at first. Hell, you had been dating the man for three years! What was happening, though, was unlike anything he had ever dealt with before. A group of men, identities undisclosed, were wreaking havoc throughout New York City. For months on end, like clockwork, every other week a crime would occur.

Each more gruesome than the last.

Peter had never really been on a deadline like this. Knowing that with each ticking second it was growing closer to the next attack. Spending all nights on the streets, trying to spot whoever could be responsible for this.

The worst part was that he had no leads. A few locations that were all pointless distractions. No semblance of an inkling as to who was committing all of these atrocities. In the span of time since their starting, over eight lives had been taken. A mind boggling number for such a short span of time.

Police were just as useless and he had decided to not take up any more time than necessary with them in tow simply because they weren’t taking this as seriously as they should have been. Instead of confronting the public, reminding them to be careful and not to wander alone past sunset, they were sweeping it under the rug.

Not wanting to cause a public disturbance. No need to fear monger they had told Spider-Man. Assuring him that all of those victims were tied to a gang in one way or another and it was criminal activity work. Something that he shouldn’t spend too much time dwelling on.

That was not a good enough answer for Peter. He didn’t believe them. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure it was a group behind all of this. It could have been a serial killer that was on one hell of a spree.

There was no pattern with their victims either. Randomly selected from the streets. What you didn’t understand was why Peter was involved with all of this. Of course, you knew he wanted to do all in his power to save as many lives as he could, but you warned him to be careful after the initial police warning.

Sticking his nose in places it didn’t belong was not going to end well. It had been the first time you two had argued to that extent. Shouting at the top of your lungs you weren’t ready to lose him and that’s what you were afraid was in the works.

He called you silly for thinking such things. That you needed to have more faith in him than you were giving. It still didn’t answer why he was so invested in this. You knew there were details he was purposely not giving you. Maybe he didn’t want to frighten you or maybe he thought you wouldn’t be able to handle it, but to you, you were a partnership, a pair.

All you wanted was to have Peter back around. Who knows, you might be able to actually help him if he came to you and showed you what he did and did not have. Instead, he hid it from you. Becoming cold and aloof. Distant and consumed.

If there was something you knew about Peter it was that he did not like being bested. Truly holding himself to a standard that was near impossible. Knowing he was above average intelligence, to put it lightly, when people tried outsmarting him, it was always a humorous effort. No one bested Spider-Man.

This time, they were.

Following that night of your monstrous bickering, you hadn’t seen or heard from Peter in over a week. Honestly, you weren’t making much of an effort yourself. Having no interest in being around him when he was in a head space like this. Knowing that there really was no way to help him if he presented nothing to you.

Peter on the other hand was not okay with you going dark on him. Despite knowing that the clock was dwindling down before their next attack, it was the first time in weeks you had been at the forefront of his mind. The little voice in the back of his head was telling him he needed to smooth this over with you or he would regret it.

Which is why he was climbing into your living room window with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, opting to take the night off even though it could be a crucial turning point. He ended up convincing himself it would be alright because if he didn’t have a direction to go in an hour before arriving at your apartment, then hunting tonight was pointless.

He didn’t have a direction.

Even though you hadn’t spoken to Peter, your thoughts were consumed by him as well. What was the bit of information he wasn’t giving you? Was there even anything he was leaving out? There could be the slim possibility he had actually divulged all he knew to you. But you knew better than that. Peter was hiding something, you just couldn’t figure out what it was.

The notes.

Discovered next to each of the victims he had come across. Given he was the only individual to find them and when he tried bringing it to the attention of the police, they had shrugged him off. They were trying to get to him.

Sheets of white printer paper, the typical horror movie fashion of assembly. Varying letters from magazines, newspapers, old letters, all taped and pasted on the paper in a note. Each one was different, but told in a fashion of a word problem. Some were like riddles.

Either way, with each new victim that appeared, so did a new note. It was one of the things he dreaded the most. Seeing what possibly innocent person had been selected in order to deliver the paper to him. His stomach turned just at the thought of it.

Tonight was not for that, though. Instead he chose to bury it in the back of his brain and spend some much needed time with you. So why weren’t you home?

If there was one thing Peter knew and loved about you was that you were a schedule person. Totally type-a, your day planned to perfection and given it was just after six o’clock that evening, you should’ve been in the kitchen plating your dinner.

Except, there was no you in the kitchen, there was no music or television playing in the background, it looked as though nothing had been touched all day. Until he stepped further into the kitchen.

When his eyes darted over to the corner of your counter, partly covered by your fridge, he froze. There it sat. An uneaten bowl of cereal. The milk on the counter next to it, the cereal box still opened and there.

As he approached it, observing the contents, you hadn’t even gotten a spoon out yet. It was filled to the brim, more so than you would’ve liked, but given it hadn’t been touched some of the cereal had inflated from the milk.

“Bug?” His voice, calm and collected echoed out into the quiet flat. Finally prying his eyes away from the alarming sight he had just seen, he was stumped. Everything else in the living room and kitchen was exactly as it should have been.

Maybe you were running late this morning and didn’t realize until after you had made your breakfast. Yes, of course! That’s exactly what it was.

Peeking into your bedroom, his heart rate decreased, a sense of relief and ease settling over him at the entirely bogus reasoning he had used to calm himself down. Until the most unusual sight of all was spotted.

Your phone sitting soundly on your nightstand, still connected to the charger. His hand rubbed at his closed eyes, trying to will his breathing to return to a normal rate. Tapping the screen, it lit up with dozens of texts. Some from Peter, some from coworkers, a few missed calls from work.

Never would you ever forget your phone. Never would you ever not put the cereal back in its place. Something was wrong.

His trembling hands removed his own phone from his pocket, before entirely losing any semblance of sanity, he dialed your boss’s number. It picked up on the third ring and Peter did his best to sound as normal as he could.

“Hey, Guy! It’s Peter Parker,” he was instantly cut off by his chipper voice on the other end. “Peter! How the heck are you?” He sighed, a shaky laugh escaping him. “Great, great. I just have a quick question for you,” as Peter asked if you had made it into work today, Guy responded fast.

“No, actually she didn’t today or yesterday. Didn’t even call. It’s not like her at all. I think a few of her team members tried texting her and didn’t hear from her either. Everything okay?” It was the worst thing he could have been told at that moment.

Clearing his throat, he tried to remain calm. “Mhm, yeah, yes. She’s just, uh, very sick. It might be a few days before she’s well enough to get back to the office. I didn’t call earlier because I wasn’t sure if she had or not.”

Guy’s laugh of relief was palpable. “Whew, thank goodness! Okay, well tell her to rest up and we’ll see her when she’s all better.” Thanking him and quickly ending the call, Peter tore your apartment upside down.

Any clues he could think of, any sign of forced entry, anything at all. But there was nothing. It was all still in the pristine condition it had been left in. Not a single thing out of the ordinary despite the two big red flags. Even going through every app on your phone, just in case, but it was fruitless.

Alarm bells were chiming in his head, he knew something was wrong. He knew you were in some sort of danger. He collapsed on your couch, wracking his brain for anything that could have given him something to work with.

Then he saw it. Out of the corner of his eye. A small piece of white paper stuck to the tongue of a running shoe you never wore. Turned on its side. He couldn’t remember if he had knocked it over during his rushed search of your apartment, but as he picked it up, his blood turned to ice.

Taped to the shoe were the letters he dreaded seeing. Had been haunting him in his sleep for weeks. When he could sleep that was. Unlike the others, it was almost a clue as to where to go next. His eyes quickly saw the time and knew they were going to strike again soon. Far too soon.

One step forward, three steps back, find her quick before she’s the next attack

It was an anger unlike anything he had ever felt before. Not when his parents had died, not when uncle Ben died, it was so overpowering, Peter truly didn’t know how to control it. Darting out of your window, knowing he was on limited time, he began his search.

A near pointless search. A pill that was hard to swallow. Knowing the chances of actually finding you were so slim. He had the list in the back of his mind, places he had scouted previously that he knew they had used at one point or another.

That was the only thing he could think to do. Which is exactly what he did. Searching one by one individually, spending no more than thirty seconds to one minute at each location before going down the list. Did he destroy some of those places during his searches? Absolutely.

He only grew angrier with each location he arrived at that you weren’t in. His hope was running out. Knowing he was at the last two possible places you could be at that he knew about. It was an abandoned warehouse by the river. The first place he had ever tracked them to, but it was far too late when he made his discovery. They had been out of there for over a week by the time he found it.

They were always just a few steps ahead of him and it drove him mad. His masked face searched the premises from what he could see. Through one of the partly shattered windows, there appeared to be a figure on the far end of the building.

A single light shining on them, their back facing where Peter stood. Sitting in a chair, only a wisp of a shadow, no identifying features to be made out. Assuming it was going to be a fight he was about to step into, Peter broke the remainder of the window and launched himself in.

Eerily silent. No noise in the entire building apart from the howling wind outside. It was beginning to become mid-fall in the city and it was always your favorite time of year. No one was enjoying the crisp autumn air that evening.

It was unbearably stuffy in there. No fresh air had swept through the place in years. The stale scents made that abundantly clear. Peter hesitantly approached the figure, the lighting just so he couldn’t make anything out until only a few hundred yards away.

The minute he saw the tied hands behind the back of the chair, his heart soared. “Bu-bug!” His voice shouted, relief flowing off of him in waves, but they came crashing down just as fast.

He wasn’t even sure if it was you. Incredibly deformed from obvious beatings, your face was swollen, bruised, and bloody like he had never seen before. The zip tie around your wrists had cut into the skin, pieces of flesh hanging from it.

As he looked down, the sticky floor was a deep crimson, continuing to pool from your countless open wounds. No shoes were on your feet, they too were cut and dangling from your seated position, totally limp.

He wasn’t entirely sure what was in your mouth as a makeshift gag, but whatever it was had been there so long, your skin was raw and bruised around it. It was the first thing he removed and as he did, your chipped teeth entered his view.

A blanket was draped over you that was covered in things Peter did not even want to begin to imagine. It was the next thing he went to remove, but he halted the moment it was off your body.

There, stapled to your bare chest, was his next note. The same haunting letters, covered in either your own or someone else’s blood. Based on the missing fingernails, he assumed it was a fight you had given which made him silently pray it was someone else’s, yours already spilled too much.

It took him a second longer than he realized to see that your toes were mainly all facing the wrong way. Your arms bruised from newly broken bones, legs in the same condition.

His trembling voice was the first thing you heard as he cut the tie from your hands, whimpers and choked cries trying to escape your hoarse throat. Immediately going limp, Peter caught you. Your body was convulsing in ways he had never seen, unable to open your eyes and see that Peter had found you.

His tears made heavy tracts on his sweat riddled skin. His gloved hands smoothed over the inflamed sections of your face. “I’m-I’m here bug, I got you. I found you, baby. I got you, okay? It’s okay now, baby.” Despite knowing how difficult and incredibly painful his next actions were going to be, he had to get you out of there.

Medical attention was the only way you were going to be able to survive. That meant Peter was going to have to carry you to the hospital. No possibility of emergency services being able to get to you before it was too late.

He was right. Had he waited for emergency services you would have died. You had been in the hospital for three weeks now. Finally in a state where you were fully conscious, despite the pain that never subsided, you were doing better than everyone thought.

It was unclear how long you had been in their “care” before Peter had found you. Based on the little memory you had from the snatching, it was assumed you had been with them for at least forty-eight hours, possibly more.

Peter hadn’t left your side since. Growing tired of hearing the nurses and doctors praise Spider-Man for having found you and saving you when he did. Hardly. He had hardly saved you.

In fact, this was his fault. It was the conclusion he had made. His careless and reckless behaviors had led them straight to you. He hadn’t spoken to you in a week and look what they had done. They thought they had killed you. There hadn’t been another attack yet. It meant nothing though.

No, the note left for him said otherwise. You’ve made it three steps back, how long until the grand final act?

Peter was frightening you. Since you had been awake and aware of what was happening, he had hardly spoken to you. The deep purple bags under his eyes were only growing worse, skin a sickly gray you had never witnessed in a human before, face hollowing out from lack of rest and food.

All he did was write in his notebook.

Curled up in a chair, he stared at the pages for hours on end. Occasionally writing and scribbling in it. His eyes never rested, constantly darting around the pages. It had been weeks of this. Total silence from him, not sure how to talk to him when he was like…this.

It was another late night in the hospital, having drifted in and out of painful sleep all day. Based on the lack of staff and visitors present, you assumed it was the middle of the night. The hospital floor just outside your door was quiet. An easy night for the staff, you thought.

Trying to figure out how to eat a pudding cup, one of the only things you could keep down, was your current task at hand. The tv playing with hardly any sound, it being the only main light in there, Peter silently re-reading whatever was in that book. That was the current mood of your room.

Eating was difficult. Only having three working fingers on your non-dominant hand, luckily one being your thumb, you struggled to pick up the spoon, also knowing you couldn’t move your arm to bring the spoon to you or bend over to get closer to consume anything. Just trying to move to secure the spoon in your mangled fingers had you on the verge of tears, losing your breath along the way.

You could do nothing without help. Not wanting to ask Peter for any assistance because of how poor his mood was. That was where you two currently sat with one another. Scared to speak to him more than absolutely necessary. Hardly speaking since being here.

His eyes briefly glanced at you before realizing what you were trying to do, throwing his notebook onto the side table. “Hey, hey, hey! What are you even trying to do, bug?” His voice was soft, a slight laugh in his voice, exhaustion evident with each word spoken. Taking the spoon from your hand, he pulled his chair closer to the bed, beginning to bring it to your lips.

It was silent until your eyes darted back at the book, deciding to take a leap. “Whatcha writing?” Your cracked, gravelly, and weak voice echoed through the silent room.

It made him want to revert to a blind rage attack. Your voice that was usually so full of life and excitement. Strong and loud that could command an entire room with only a few words. Now, he could hardly hear you, understand you, look at you. Jaw clenching at the question, his teeth grinded together.

When he closed his eyes, he saw visions of you beaten in that warehouse, left for dead. The immense pain you had been suffering through ever since then. Scars that would never fade, both physically and mentally meant he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. Not until he found them.

Your face was doing better, still black and blue, but healing. Able to open your eyes and look at him despite the popped blood vessels. Bandages littered every inch of your skin, wrists tightly wrapped with special medicine for the skin loss.

“Notes,” he murmured, eyes darkening as you asked your question, obviously not wanting to speak about it more. Changing the topic as your pudding came to an end, his hand brushed through your hair, knuckles lightly brushing against your cheek. “What do you need? Anything?”

It was silly. A simple question to see if you really did need anything. It didn’t stop the tears from hurriedly falling down your face. “Yo-you, Peter. I need you. I don’t know where you’ve been, but it hasn’t been here with me. I feel like I’m healing on my own. Like you’re not even here. You sit in that chair, staring at that notebook for days on end. You’ve hardly looked at me, spoken to me, listened to me. Please, just come back to me. Please, Pete.” It was borderline begging, but months of pent up frustration had broken the dam.

Peter’s heart continued to crack with each additional word you said. Realization of what he was doing to you, slamming into him all at once. He nodded, chin resting on one of the side rails, sniffling himself. “I’m here, bug. Whatever you need. I’m so sorry.”

Your only non-fully broken hand you extended towards him, wincing in pain from the movement. Scared to touch you, he only placed your hand back down, removing the side rail to get as close as possible to you.

The rest of the night, you two sat chatting ,watching whatever movies you wanted. It was a glimpse at the man you had seemingly lost all those months ago. Peter was back.

You were released from the hospital just shy of a week later. Peter’s plan to nurse you back to health was his moving in with you. While it was just supposed to be while you recovered, you two ended up enjoying it so much, he was now permanently living there.

It felt like your relationship was shooting by leaps and bounds, spending time together like you had never experienced before. Him being there when you went to bed at night and his face being the first thing you spotted when your eyes opened was a treat you didn’t know you needed.

Feeling content, cared for, respected, and loved like never before. Peter admitted, with your confession to him in the hospital about how distant he had become, tore him apart. He had never seen you moved to tears in such a way, especially over him.

He didn’t realize how deep he had been sucked in until that moment. From then on, Peter swore to keep his other persona on the sidelines for a bit whilst you healed and needed him. Did that mean he was going to stop being Spider-Man in the meantime?

Of course not. It meant that side of him was reserved for the span of time from when you fell asleep to about forty minutes before you would wake up in the morning. Absolutely clueless as to the fact that he had been out all night.

Hunting. Stalking. Tracking.

It was the first night in which you didn’t need him to help lay you down in bed. Peter knew his sleep schedule was already fucked, each time his eyes would drift shut all he could see was you strapped to that chair, nearing death.

And the fact that he hadn’t caught them.

Keeping him up at night, when he could sleep it was plagued by nightmares. Peter knew that there was no opportunity for him to rest while these scumbags were still wandering the streets, looking for another prey to select for their sick games.

Which is why he was doing this without you knowing. Not wanting to worry you and cause you further stress. No, Peter could do this. Would do this. Had to do this. He had made amazing moves. Truly spectacular given the place he had been stuck in before.

They had no idea he had found them, watched their every move, plotted what he was going to do to them. Honestly, when he first spotted one of the three he had discovered had been involved in your…incident, it took every ounce of strength he had to not murder the man right then.

He had to remind himself that all he had to do was provide some patience and the reward would be unlike anything he imagined. And imagine he did.

It was what plagued his thoughts every single day as he watched you hobble around such short distances that only offered pain and tiredness from. His eyes would drift over your still bruised skin as he helped you bathe and it was like witnessing it all over again.

Your hand would tip his chin up, forcing him to lock eyes with you. It was nearly impossible to not see the sadness and hurt in his eyes. Disappointed in himself for letting this happen to you. It didn’t matter because what had happened was now in the past and all you were looking forward to was healing.

The emotional and traumatic scars left on you were not easy to mask. Perhaps that was another reason why Peter was so furious as well. If he moved too quickly behind you, you jumped and a small scream would follow. Trembling for upwards of an hour before settling down. Peter would have to tell you small things to gather your thoughts.

Feel my hand? I`m right here, bug. Here, I want you to use the remote and put on whatever you want. You feel the couch under you? You’re home, baby. You’re safe.

If it weren’t for Peter, you weren’t sure what you would do. He was your rock, your other half, offering reason for unreasonable thoughts. He was your Peter.

The rain was pattering against the window, a sort of white noise you weren’t expecting tonight, but were grateful for it nonetheless. It helped you drift off to a dreamless sleep, exhaustion from trying to do some basic things today taking too much out of you.

Peter was already out of the house before he knew you were soundly asleep. He couldn’t risk being late. Tonight was the night.

Weeks of following them, understanding and breaking their odd patterns, he watched as they went according to plan perfectly. A construction sight for a new high rise. This was their new rendezvous sight for the next attack.

There wouldn’t be another attack.

Counting silently in his head, as he saw a flicker of a small light near the top floor, his count was perfect. They entered exactly on schedule. Crawling down the side of the building and using the thunderstorm to his advantage, he shattered a window a few floors up.

There was no other way that he knew of other than how they had entered and that was far too risky as they had all other doors blocked. As he slowly descended the staircase to scout the floor and determine which room they were in, his hair stood on end as a voice hit his ear.

Three of them. All there. The monsters who were behind your attack. Simply waiting for him.

Except, they didn’t know they were waiting for him. No, tonight was a setup night. Preparation for the coming days of their next plan. Peter had determined fairly early on it was not going to be their final act like they had claimed.

The door was kept slightly ajar with a cinder block, no handles on them yet meaning if it closed, there was no way out for them. Which was their plan for their next victim. Leave the poor soul trapped here with no means of getting out alive.

Peter’s skin was crawling, every instinct shouting at him to just do it. End them now. It would be so easy. He shook off those thoughts, knowing his plan was the correct one.

He dropped to the floor behind them, one of them catching him out of the corner of their eye, a smirk taking over his face. “Spidey boy finally found us, boss.” The thick accent made him hard to understand. Peter kept silent. Very silent.

The other two turned to face him, matching looks on their hideous faces. “How’s your girl? You otta be more careful next time or she could get seriously hurt.” A chuckle escaped them. Peter still didn’t move, watching them from a few paces away.

Quickly deciding they weren’t a fan of the silent treatment, the largest man in the center who Peter knew to be their ringleader drew his gun. In the blink of an eye, web flew towards the gunman, pinning the weapon to the wall behind him.

“Come on now, you didn’t think I knew what you have on you? Just like how I know tweedledee over here is about to throw a knife at me,” Peter ducked out of the way as the blade hurdled towards him. “Now how about we all play nice and introduce ourselves?”

An over exaggerated sigh escaped Peter’s lips as the three men darted towards him, but he acted quickly, webbing them to the surrounding walls, letting one approach him to fight him. “Guess not. Okay, then. I guess I’ll be the one making the rules tonight then.”

Peter grabbed the three chairs from one of the corners of the room before leisurely strolling towards the door and pushing the cinder block from the opening. He whistled a made up tune as he removed them one by one, webbing them to the seats to the point of them not being able to move an inch.

“You know, it’s such a shame sometimes that I wear this mask because I would love you guys to see how big of a smile I have right now. Scouts honor, I am overjoyed that we finally get to do this!” He took his own seat directly across from them.

His head scanned them before pointing at the one on the right. “Let’s start with you bumblebee. What’s your name?” His black and yellow striped shirt was what appointed him his nickname. “You think we’re going to talk? I have nothing to say.”

Peter nodded at his words before looking at the other two. “Same goes for you two then, I assume?” When they didn’t respond, instead only seeing spit hurl towards him, he dropped his head, shaking it. “Such a shame. Alright, last chance. Just give me a name.”

Silence.

A shrug. “It brings me no joy to resort to this, fellas. I’m truly not a violent person. I pride myself on being as gentle as I can be. " He began pacing around, his chair discarded behind him now. “Igor, Viktor, Sasha.” He pointed at each of them individually as he divulged their names.

He gave himself a small satisfactory pump into the air at his success. He could tell he was correct by the little one on the lefts eyes growing slightly wider. It was just the start. As Peter continued on, he got tiny tidbits of information. Only when he presented to them what he knew. Which at this point was everything.

Names, date of births, addresses, spouses, children, education records, dental records, you name it, Peter had it. It still wasn’t enough to get them talking like how he wanted. Instead, Peter fell into the second part of his plan earlier than he had expected.

With seven toes, five fingers, three teeth, many beatings, and an ear, they were beginning to squeal. The leader, Igor, was suspended from the ceiling by his bound hands submerged in webbing. He was entirely nude, body cut up in ways that had blood spilling from him ferociously.

Viktor was webbed entirely to the floor, his entire body covered in fluid despite only one singular nostril. He was the one who cracked first which Peter expected after his reaction to his grandmothers home address in his tiny village in his home country. It was quickly discovered that he was mainly an action man, simply doing what he was told, not a mastermind of any sort.

The other one, Sasha, was who most of the beatings had gone towards once Viktor had divulged it was him who had mainly been the culprit in your beating. Webbed to the wall with no chance of escape, Peter mimicked all the injuries you had sustained on him and then some. Just missing a few fingers and toes now as well.

As the night drew to a close, Peter admired the work he had done. He wiped his gloved hands in a motion to signify he was wrapping up. They were hardly conscious enough at this point to understand what was happening to them. To understand the fate they had drawn themselves to.

There was just one final thing he needed to do. Grabbing the needle and thread he brought with him for tonight and tonight only, he walked slowly towards the nude man. “Did you know that I sew all of my suits? Crazy right! How in the world does he have the time to do this, you might ask. It’s a valid question, but you know what, if I took it to lets say a seamstress, I would be unbelievably broke. Not to mention, how does one drop off the Spider-Man suit without drawing suspicion. First world problems, am I right?” 

The man didn’t respond, but as Peter pierced the needle into his skin, his yelp rang in Peter’s ears. “Ah, ah, ah, don’t be moving around now, you’ll make my stitches go all out of wack here.” Peter took his time, but as he finished he admired the handy work.

Sewn into the man chest was a letter of his own. Crafted just for them. A message curated specifically for their enjoyment.

“How time flies, boys. Suns coming up here shortly. Time for me to be heading out.” He smashed a window, ready to crawl out, but he remembered one final thing he needed to do. Walking back over to Igor, he pulled his head back by the hair on his scalp, making him look into the bug eyed mask.

The whimper that fell from the grown man was laughable to Peter. “If you or your dogs come near anyone I love again, our next visit will not be as enjoyable as this one. If you get out of here, I mean.” Tears fell from the corner of his eyes as Peter released his head to fall back into its resting position.

“See you later, guys! Make better choices!” He called out behind himself as he crawled out the window, webbing it shut behind him before making his way home to you.

It was the first time in months that Peter felt like he could breathe. Taking in the fresh morning air, just minutes before the sun began to peak on the horizon, signaling the arrival of a new day. His lungs expanded with the deep breath of air, wanting to sob at the weight removed from his shoulders.

As he made his way back into the apartment, he spotted you in bed. Still curled up in the comforter, sound asleep, none the wiser of his whereabouts the night before. The brusing getting less and less noticeable by the day.

When he crawled into bed next to you, he refused to fall asleep, not tired in the least. No, instead as the sun began to shine through the curtains, he watched you. Watched as your chest rose and fell with each breath, grateful you were taking those breaths.

Because Peter knew that it wasn’t long ago where those breaths weren’t guaranteed. Now, he counted each one, to make sure you were okay. Of course you were okay now. Peter just needed to make sure.

It wasn’t too long after when you began stirring, eyes blinking open to see his golden eyes staring down at you with the softest gaze Peter had ever had. “Morning,” you mumbled, he whispered it back to you.

“You sleep okay?” He asked, to which you nodded, asking him the same. “Of course I did.” You smiled, getting up and ready to start your day.

You just needed to pretended you didn’t see the bruises adorning his knuckles. “What’s for breakfast?”

[sc0tters]

Here With You | Kirby Dach

summary: a stressful day turns into the most memorable day of your life when Kirby steps in.

request: yes/no

warnings: none, maybe slight allusions to sex at the end?

word count: 1.22k

authors note: the request literally said soft Kirby and I had no clue what to write for that so here it is. I pulled this up in the list because so many people have been asking for him to get a piece so here it is!

If there was a word to describe how bad your day was you truly didn’t have it in your dictionary.

Your meetings had all gone against you where deadlines were pulled forward drowning you in work to the point where you had missed the game this evening.

Kirby was surprised when you hadn’t shown up but that surprise turned to worry when you didn’t answer any of his messages.

So naturally the hockey player broke most speed limits as he drove back to your shared apartment not caring that he had been through three red lights.

But what Kirby didn’t expect to see was your body hunched over the dining room table as you typed a lengthy paragraph about something.

Your eyes were tired as it stared at the screen struggling to remain open “baby?” Kirby called out as he watched you remain silent.

The silence in the room made the hockey player feel sick “you okay?” He added walking over to you.

When you heard the floorboard creek beneath his feet your head whipped around “hi baby.” Kirby’s voice was soft as he placed a kiss on your head “missed you out there tonight.” The hockey player crouched down so that he could talk to you.

As the reminder of the game came through your ears your hand slapped over your mouth “I missed your game?” Your voice broke at the thought.

Tears left your eyes and Kirby thought that there was going to be no stopping them “it’s okay,” he was quick to go into recovery mode as he wrapped his hands around you pulling you into an awkward hug given how he stood there.

The moment went on for a few minutes before your crying seemed to slow down “let me see that pretty face of yours.” The hockey players voice made you smile through a sniffle.

He brought his hand to your cheek to wipe away a tear that rolled down your cheek when he smiled “I’m sorry for missing your game.” You apologised “we lost anyways.” Kirby shot back making you let out a soft giggle “against the ducks?”

Your question had him scoffing as his jaw dropped “hey remember you missed it so you can’t even judge us.” Kirby’s response made your smile until the boy locked eyes with your laptop.

His expression softened seeing all of the comments from your coworkers who he hated “why are you working on this?” He asked assuming that it was only meant to be done in three weeks “boss pushed it forward.” You explained only to be met with a sigh.

But what you didn’t expect was that Kirby would reach forward to shut your laptop “I’m not done!” You complained as you knew you had to edit at least three more pages before you could go to bed “yes you are.” Kirby shook his head not wanting to hear any potential arguments that you might have had for him.

Kirby held his hand out to your as he smiled “we are going to our bedroom.” The hockey player explained as you took his hand “only for a little-” your proposal was quickly shut down as he shook his head.

His finger raised to your lips “for the evening.” Kirby’s voice showed that he was serious which made you smile all over again.

You nodded showing that you were giving in “that wasn’t so hard now was it?” The hockey player asked leaning in to peck your lips.

His plans to pull your mind away from your work seemed to work as the lavender bubble bathe scent invaded your nostrils “you okay baby?” His lips pressed against your temple as you lay against his chest “I love you.” You blurted out feeling him run his fingers against your arm.

It was soft as you two looked out of the window by the time to the well lit city of Montreal “I love you too.” Kirby smiled as you rested your head on his shoulder.

Kirby hummed in your ear as he kissed up the side of your neck “so stressed baby.” He mumbled wrapping his arms around your waist.

You melted at his touch “don’t stop.” You smiled as your hand reached up to cup his hair “you feeling better about it all?” The hockey player asked letting his head rest against your cheek “now that you’re here.” Sure it sounded cheesy but you honestly hadn’t thought about your work since you shut your laptop.

Your finger tips had gotten wrinkled due to the water that they had soaked up “you ready to go out?” You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked up at the boy.

Kirby brought his hand up to cup your jaw “I’ll follow you wherever you want baby.” His words took you by surprise which made you remain silent “forever?”

It seemed like a light went off above him “I’ll be back in a sec baby.” Kirby tapped your arm motioning to you to lean forward.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you listened watching him get out of the tub as he quickly ran into your bedroom “what is he doing?” You mumbled to yourself as you waited for him to come back.

He took a total of three minutes (which felt like a hundred) before he came back in “what did you?” Kirby had this mischievous look on his face as he held his hands behind his back.

Nothing clicked in your head until he kneeled by the tub “I was planning on doing this during the break in Quebec but this short of felt like the moment.” Kirby let out a nervous laugh when you brought your hand to your mouth.

The hockey player smiled “I will follow you wherever you go wherever you go on this earth.” His words made your heart pound as your eyes watered.

You nodded when he pulled the box from behind him “so I guess I’m just asking-” before Kirby could finish his sentence you smiled “yes yes yes!” You blurted out making the boy grin.

Kirby laughed “you don’t even know what I was going to ask.” He pointed out making your smile widen.

A giggle left your lips “hurry up and ask me dummy.” Your voice was obvious and your impatient nature came through.

In that moment he looked at you like you were the only girl in the world “you wanna marry me?” Kirby opened the box to reveal the ring that you had showed him a year ago on a whim.

You let out a gasp “they stopped selling it.” Sure it was weird but that was literally your dream ring “I got it the day after you showed it to me.” Kirby explained as he shrugged pulling the ring out of the box “you didn’t answer my question baby.” He reminder you as he grabbed your hand.

It was amusing how you nodded so quickly “I’ve wanted to marry you since the day I told you I loved you.” You confessed with a grin as Kirby slipped the ring onto your finger bringing his lips to yours as he kissed you “now let’s really move this to the bedroom.” The hockey player stood up as he held his hand out to you.

You two were in for a long night.

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 4 - North Greenwich Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 3 Summary: Neil's brief disappearance does nothing to extinguish the sparks. As he returns, you make a series of discoveries about each other and grow ever so much closer. Warnings: Swearing, E-rated language, ridiculous amounts of flirting as per usual. Buckle up bc we're amping the pace a little... ;) Author's Notes: Well... that was a long break between the chapters 🙈 My apologies, turns out that having a job takes away the little joys in life like writing silly stories. Anyways, here we are, at last. With another 10.7k. And this one's packed with many good, fun things ;))) Some of those scenes had been months in the making (if not years, considering I first mentioned this AU to Shet in like 2021? I think?). So, yeah. They had it long time coming. More cameos, more nonsensical POV changes and, above all, more certified idiocy by them two kids. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

What Neil’s departure from London did not do was change the way things worked between you. Although you only had meagre information about his whereabouts (such as that he was within the same time zone but in a different country), there was no sense of a breach building in the space of that strange yet solid connection. With the anxieties surrounding the imminent ‘Don Quixote’ premiere keeping your blood pressure high daily, you more than enjoyed being able to pick up your phone and message him whenever possible.

He did not always respond immediately, but it was not a must. What mattered was that Neil eventually got back to you. Never disclosing any information about his work trip, apart from the fact that it was warm there even in mid-October, he still made the effort to keep up with your antics. In that sense, the insanity of the date you had risked changed absolutely nothing.

But it also changed everything.

It was as if your free will chose to conspire with the soul’s desires to get what they wanted. Namely – Neil. Because as soon as you had even begun considering breaching the line separating friendship from every other kind of relationship, your brain decided it was done.

Being his girlfriend was not on the list of priorities or wants, but getting in his pants definitely was. It was almost freeing to admit.

The only question left after all that soul-searching was whether Neil wanted you like that, too. Sometimes there were no doubts about that, either.

Almost a week in, with the ballet previews looming on the horizon and no chance of sleep anytime soon, you huffed an annoyed sigh and picked up the phone from your bedside table. Bleary eyes registered the hour (five past midnight) as you opened apps randomly, already giving up on the promise of sleep. It took you another few minutes to make up your mind, open the texts and stare at the conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours since the last exchange concerning the warmth of the climate wherever he was. You had been (fruitlessly) trying to make Neil send you a picture. Of himself. Not necessarily without clothes, but that was the dream. And a girl was allowed to dream, right?

Squinting at the screen, you hesitated for another millisecond before typing out the simple question:

/ 🏹, 00:15 am/ Are you missing me yet?

Neil did not make you wait for long.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ Obviously.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ I’m barely coping here, sunshine.

/ 🏹, 00:29 am/ Gee, you’re making it too easy.

/✝️, 00:30 am/ Making what too easy?

/ 🏹, 00:33 am/ Missing you.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ See, I thought my cheeky line would get a lukewarm response, so I was prepared to tease you further.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ And now I’ve no quips to offer.

/✝️, 00:39 am/ Apologies. I’ll do better next time.

/ 🏹, 00:40 am/ I’ll make sure of that.

/✝️, 00:42 am/ And what punishment do you propose?

/ 🏹, 00:43 am/ I’ve always wondered what you’d sound like if you begged.

/✝️, 00:44 am/ It could probably be arranged.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ I’ve no qualms about getting on my knees for a beautiful woman.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ But that would hardly be a punishment.

/ 🏹, 00:48 am/ Yeah, but if I let you have that and then left you… on your knees, so painfully hard with no release… How would that feel?

/✝️, 00:51 am/ You win this one.

/✝️, 00:52 am/ And yes, I’m blushing. Fiercely.

/ 🏹, 00:59 am/ Good, I was hoping you are. Goodnight, Neil.

As you hit send on the last message, your head hit the pillows with an audible ‘oof’. Your cheeks burned; the blush invisible in the dark yet still very much there. That was the problem with Neil and your chats. It was impossible to say when they would turn in that direction. When you would both lose control and follow a line of conversation that probably never should have happened. Not that you were complaining.

It was good to know what you could expect from Neil. If things happened the way you wished, they would. Admittedly, he’d look good on his knees. That was a fact.

That night you only got five hours of sleep, but who counted it anyway. What mattered was that you had some excellent dreams. Dreams that you hoped would end up prophetic.

On other days, your conversations were a little more serious. Like that early afternoon when you just finished the final in-costume run of the Cupid variation and exited the ROH to wander the streets of Soho. Whenever you felt close to losing your sanity, the walk around those familiar spots always did the trick. It was easier to breathe, to hope that you would not fuck it all up when the curtain call came. To believe that imposter syndrome was nothing more than a vile bitch.

Sighing against the thoughts muddling your brain, you took out the phone and immediately noticed the new message:

/✝️, 1:49 pm/ How’s the garden of the Dryads coming along?

/✝️, 1:50 pm/ It probably goes without saying that you’re my favourite ballerina.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ Damn, that’s high praise. Especially considering that I’m the only ballerina you know.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ I think the garden is coming along nicely. Not so sure about Cupid, tho.

/✝️, 2:08 pm/ I call bullshit on that.

/✝️, 2:09 pm/ I just know that you’re brilliant.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ Doubt, she said.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ ‘Cause like… How do you deal with the overwhelming weight of expectations?

/✝️, 2:18 pm/ I mean, I panic and lose it instantly, but generally speaking, I think you just sort of… ignore it and trust you are good enough.

/✝️, 2:19 pm/ I know that you are, Cupid. This role was made for you.

/ 🏹, 2:22 pm/ Elaborate, please. I need my ego stroked.

/✝️, 2:23 pm/ Well, she sorts of saunters onto the stage and has a minute to dazzle everyone, yeah?

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ Which is exactly what you did to me.

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ You’ve got this.

/ 🏹, 2:26 pm/ God, you’re irreconcilable. Better come back so I can force you to sit through this.

/✝️, 2:27 pm/ Working on it as we speak.

A smile painted itself on your face with an inerasable stroke of brush. Neil’s constant support and cheerleading were a welcome surprise. Sometimes, your meeting almost felt like a divine intervention. That is if you believed in such things. Because the odds of gaining both a fascinating man to pursue and a friend were quite low. And yet.

As you looped your steps back towards Covent Garden, you made the mental note to visit the box office and add a request for the guest list. It was a rare enough event to have someone you could invite to the performance. And have the right to believe they would come. You were not going to squander that sort of chance.

***

The whirring ceiling fan was starting to get on his nerves with its endless sputtering. And it was not even working, as far as Neil was concerned. The sweat still clung to his skin and trickled down his back to a point where he seriously contemplated ditching the shirt. And that rarely happened. Especially not on the job, with the whole squad confined to a medium-sized safehouse.

The bustle of the city streamed through the windows, cracked open so they could let in fresh air while still having a chance of keeping them safe from snipers and the like. Granted, one could never be fully prepared for an inverted shot, but it was worth trying not to get killed. Especially during a mission that technically was just a recon. Though Neil knew better than to believe The Protagonist when the man claimed something was perfectly safe. He meant well, sure. But despite the appearances, he did not know everything.

So, the windows cracked open three inches had to do. Neil sighed, annoyance digging deep beneath his skin to stay there for a little longer. It was another one of those boring, yet technically productive afternoons in the safehouse. Today, the task was to plan a hypothetical pincer movement. Just in case, they said. Well, Neil sure did hope the case never came to be.

He glanced at the blacked-out screen of his phone, the muscle memory betraying him as he picked up the device almost mindlessly and opened the conversation with Cupid. It had been a few hours since the last chat, which was pretty usual. They did not need to talk all the time. Neil knew that. He also knew that it was probably better they did not talk constantly. Considering that 3 out of 5 conversations always ended up dirty, up to the point where he was blushing like an idiot. And, sometimes disappeared in the bathroom to deal with some troublesome effects of those chats.

Yes, considering all that, Neil knew it was best they took some breaks. But also-

“Blondie, can you give us a hand with this?” the yell from further inside the apartment acted like a bucket of cold water tipped over his head unceremoniously.

Neil whipped his head up, glaring at the open doorway. Unfortunately, being referred to as ‘blondie’ was becoming more frequent. The petulant nature urged him to ignore it, but he knew that was hardly the last one. With another long-suffering sigh, he heaved himself out of the armchair and called back:

“I said I’m coming,” granted, that was over fifteen minutes ago, but everyone could get distracted. Right? “Would it hurt you to ask nicer?” he stalked down the corridor toward the living area with an arched eyebrow.

It was not surprising to meet a mirroring expression on the faces of Ives, Wheeler, and Jeremy sitting in a trifecta of judgment. Neil had no doubts about his place in that makeshift courtroom.

“Yes, when you’re slacking,” Wheeler dropped the disapproving glare with all the air of nonchalance and pointedly glanced at the table covered with maps and blueprints.

Neil had no choice but to sit down in the remaining chair and offer an apologetic pout to anyone willing to hear him out:

“I’m not slacking. I’m just-” whatever excuse he could whip out on a whim got interrupted prematurely.

“Otherwise occupied with your girlfriend. Yes, we know,” Wheeler raised her head once more with a dismissive wave of hand, making Neil consider the possibility that she was close to losing it right there and then.

That possibility was always worrisome, for no anger could compare to that of his friend. Especially when she was pissed off.

But that careful consideration was nothing in the face of the two realisations brought forward by that simple assumption. Firstly - Cupid was decidedly not his girlfriend. Secondly – fucking Ives.

Neil glared at the man in question, hoping his eyes would reveal the murderous intents hidden underneath as his clarifying statement broke the awkward silence:

“She’s not-” he never finished that sentence (perhaps for the better), for the harsh sound of his ringtone filled the room with cacophonic clamour. Neil scrambled to pick up the phone without as much as glancing at the screen, “Hello?” the tentative opener sounded ridiculous even to his ears.

Soon, it was clear he should have checked the caller before picking up.

“Hi, Neil,” Cupid’s silky tone caressed his ear through the device.

Neil knew she did that purposefully, solely inspired to make the idiot inside him blush and giggle like a loser. Make no mistake; Neil was certainly a loser. And an idiot.

Once he felt the shock pass enough to ensure he would not drop the phone he repeated the greeting.

“Umm, hi,” from the corner of his eye, Neil could see the accompanying trio stare at him without trying to be covert about it. Absolute assholes “You’ve never called me before” trust him to state the obvious.

For a second, Neil considered faceplanting onto the table. Equally, the idea of jumping out of the window sounded appealing. The thoughts of potential demise were interrupted by Cupid’s reply:

“I know. I just thought it might be fun to spice things up,” she was definitely enjoying this and the damage she has caused. It was audible in the lightness of her voice, the vowels curled by a cheeky smile he could hear as she asked, “How’s your day?”

No longer happy to ignore his audience, Neil turned towards them with another glare. All three stared back, with Ives going as far as shooting him a knowing smile.

“It’s fine, except for my team being desperate to berate me,” Neil directed the venom in his voice at the trio as Wheeler casually got up from the table and put the kettle on.

The light chuckle from the phone almost made him feel better about it.

“That’s rude,” her remark contrasted with the laughter he could hear in her voice. Yet it was too late to raise the alarm or prepare for what would follow, “Would it be better if I reminded you what a good boy you are?” as soon as Cupid finished the question, Neil felt the full-body reaction she wanted.

A shudder ran through his spine as his face flushed pink. On a last conscious thought, Neil leapt up from the chair and paced towards the window, hiding from the group. A half-swallowed groan broke through his mouth as he tightened his fist, hopelessly trying to forget how those two words sounded on her lips. It was pathetic.

The more tragic outcome was that now Cupid had even more blackmailing material in her arsenal.

“Jesus Christ, you’re evil,” Neil knew he still sounded wrecked.

There was no way of hiding that. Of making her forget this had just happened and the conclusions she could draw from it. Neil barely resisted the urge to smash his head into the window.

“Oh, so it would help,” as expected, Cupid sounded delighted by what had transpired. The cheeky smile he liked way too much was undoubtedly present on her face as she added, “Not so dully noted” may he rest in pieces, apparently, “When are you coming back?” the question sounded almost out of place.

Yet even in his muddled mind, Neil knew it was genuine. That she wanted to know. If that fact meant anything at all, he did not know. And he tried his hardest not to think about it too much.

“Why? You miss me?” ignoring the chorus of ‘awws’ behind his back, Neil allowed himself to ask.

Even if only for emotional validation. Because while she has hinted at it before, Neil was never tired of being reminded. The whole thing with her might have been hopeless, but it did not change how he worked. How his heart ticked and what beat it chose. Tragically, romanticism was tricky to get rid of. Neil experienced that first-hand.

“You know that I do,” Cupid did not mind humouring his whims as she offered a simple admission without a fight.

With all his predictability, Neil could not hold back the idiotic grin from making an appearance. Sure, it had no future, but that did not make him less eager to play along. What’s the worst thing that could happen? Famous last words and all. Probably.

“I should be back in a week. More or less,” that was the hope, anyway.

The few stray thoughts that had somehow escaped the web spun by Cupid, and her attention reminded him about the work still left to be done. Like the fucking pincer movement plan. With threebastards taunting him mercilessly. So much fun.

“Fab. I got you a great seat for the premiere, so… You know what to do,” the hopeful note in her voice was worth the future pain.

He had no doubts about it. The fact was that Neil was looking forward to the ballet. The hazy memories of seeing ‘Swan Lake’, aged six, hardly compared to the Royal Ballet company. It was a good enough reason to attend. The other excellent reason was Cupid herself, but that was best unsaid. And unthought. Somehow.

“Got you,” ignoring the ridiculous thoughts, Neil offered her a smile she could not see and a silent prayer cast into the heavens that he was not lying unknowingly.

“I know you do. You’re a good boy, Neil,” Cupid’s strike came with no warning.

Yet again, she dropped her tone a notch and whispered the damned two words with a breathy sigh. The metaphorical nail to the coffin this time was how she said his name, almost caressing the letters. And yes, this time it worked, too.

Neil had the mind to faceplant into the window and groan with frustration. The inescapable blush warmed up his cheeks as his body shivered. Some… particular parts of his physique also showed interest in what was happening, eternally oh so eager to betray his wish to stay unbothered.

“For fuck’s-” the choked curse got swallowed by the mightiest effort on his side as Neil took a steadying breath and asked, “Why?”

As if happy to punish him, Cupid laughed.

“Because it’s fun,” the unspoken duh made him both more annoyed and more bewitched by her, “I’ll let you work now, but…” as did the carrot dangled in front of his face like the sweetest of baits.

Always the idiot, Neil could not possibly ignore it.

“Yeah?” he could hear her take a deep breath as if steeling herself for a difficult admission.

“I’m glad we’ve met,” Cupid whispered the confession without as much as a pause between the words.

“Me too,” his reply got lost in the static as she hung up.

Letting out the breath he did not know he was holding, Neil lowered the phone onto the windowsill and stared at the city outside. Well then. The call would take a while to process; that was unquestionable.

“Aw, aren’t you two cute?” Ives’ teasing threw Neil out of that pleasantly fuzzy mind space with all the grace of an elephant.

He turned around with the glower at the ready. This time, he could not bite back the curse:

“Shut the fuck up,” on an afterthought, Neil added, “Please,” noticing the soldier open his mouth for a quip, he dropped his tone to a warning timbre. That called for a final caution, “Unless you want to start looking for a new physicist,” his glare slipped over the trio before Neil settled at the table and unfolded the blueprints without another word.

***

When that awaited text from Neil came, bearing the information that he was back in London and happy to meet you whenever you did not jump for joy. Definitely not. What you did do was grin and discuss the possible rendezvous immediately. When that Tuesday afternoon arrived, with the glory of a decent rehearsal and a good coffee in your paper cup, you happily bypassed the crowds at Green Park and skipped the steps down to the correct platform.

That twenty-minute walk to the station was a blessing, just as much as a curse. When Neil proposed the time you could meet on the train, you did not correct him about your location that day. Or that grabbing the Jubilee line would be entirely off the quickest route back home. You just accepted the time and place and ignored the voice at the back of your head reminding you that this was not how you usually behaved.

It could go fuck itself.

Once you settled on the platform, one glance at the watch told you the next train would be the right one. The strange giddiness sparked in your veins, but you blamed it on the three-week gap between the meetings. It was just that, nothing more. Obviously.

The autopilot carried you through the motions until you had boarded the carriage and came face to face with the cause of all this idiocy. Neil smiled, instantly clocking you before you had even placed both feet inside. It was impossible to keep your face neutral, returning the grin and manoeuvring around the commuters to sit next to him on the three plastic chairs facing the sliding doors.

Then, as if seized by insanity, you propelled your body forward with the arms coming up around Neil’s neck to embrace him tightly. His freeze took approximately twenty seconds to thaw as he returned the hug with equal strength. You could feel the warmth of his breath hitting the crook of your neck and making you fight back a shiver that would not do. Instead, you let yourself breathe him in, rest in the moment that was potentially a mistake. Still, you were not going to treat it like one. Not when the warmth of his hands seeped through the clothes as they rested on your waist.

When the lurch of the train reminded you of reality and all its flaws, you ruefully disentangled from Neil and met his wary gaze. His blue eyes scanned your face as if looking for clues towards the reasons for the madness you just allowed yourself. When that offered no answers, Neil broke the silence with a careful observation:

“I didn’t know that we’re doing hugs,” his impassive face offered no clues either, triggering a wave of uncertainty you had to smother.

Because what if you went too far? What if that was not what Neil wanted?

“We are now,” the confidence was missing from the statement, making you add a crucial question, “Is that okay?” you could hear the insecurity in your voice, betraying the worries.

They disappeared the moment Neil flashed you a smile, his hand lightly patting your knee as a complement to the simple reassurance:

“Sure is,” lowering his gaze to catch yours, Neil winked.

Thank fuck. It surely made life much easier. Or the plans you might or might have not made regarding him. Now that the crisis had passed, you shifted in the seat to find a more comfortable position and allowed yourself a selfish look, measuring him up as usual. The slight tan line revealed by the rolled-up sleeves confirmed what you did know about his disappearance. The minor tiredness in how he carried his body strengthened your guesses. The rest of him blinded you as always.

Especially the three buttons left undone, revealing a strip of his chest. And inspiring ungodly thoughts in your head. Ignoring that what could not be addressed. Especially not right now in a carriage full of people. You switched your attention to the other crucial topic. Everything was better than being arrested for public indecency. At least you did hope so.

“How was the trip?” you noted the shift in Neil’s posture.

How he strengthened in the seat, the mask back in place. Although his mystery had fallen into the background over the acceleration of your dynamic, it was still very much present. You had to figure him out. Had to crack the case. Even if it killed you.

For now, though, simply asking mundane questions had to be enough.

“Well… it was fine. The usual” the answer did not help much, however.

Neil looked as if he knew how enigmatic it sounded but could not do anything about it. Upon your questioning look, he only shrugged and offered no further details. This time, you could not let the moment pass without a comment. You rolled your eyes, a frustrated huff interrupting the silence with petulance:

“God, you couldn’t be any less mysterious if you tried,” although anger was not one of the present emotions, you knew Neil would understand the message as you glared at him without heat.

He winced as if admitting to the guilt you hinted at and turned to you with a more open expression on his face:

“Sorry, it’s uh… maybe one day,” Neil met your gaze meaningfully, making you keener to believe him.

You held his gaze for a beat, even if only to have an excuse to look into his eyes and see Neil without the veil of pretence. It was easy to hope one day he would tell you more. That there was one day, somewhere along the line, waiting for you. That whatever was happening would not burn to a cinder in two weeks and leave you bereft. As things like this tended to do.

“I’ll hold you to that,” before breaking the eye contact, you reached for his hand.

It was another insane reflex that was difficult to explain, even to yourself. Yet, still, Neil went willingly. His long fingers tangled with yours without resistance and allowed you to rest your joined palms between the seats, almost like a beacon to whoever was curious about your meeting. And you could see the nosy stares, the inquisitive grandmas eager to judge and label everything and everyone existing within their vicinity.

You used the warmth of your connected hands to anchor you in the present as Neil asked:

“How’s the imposter syndrome? Did it fuck off at last?” the softness in his eyes could undoubtedly be fatal.

As was the way he knew what to ask and hit the jackpot without even trying. Because, of course, the feeling of not being good enough did not disappear. Of course, you still got up every morning with the vague desire to approach the ballet director and tell her you are giving up. That you cannot do this. It almost seemed like Neil could sense your thoughts.

Which was both terrifying and appealing, if you were to be honest. It would make your job easier if he knew exactly what you were thinking. About him.

“I wish,” the suffering sigh was a cheap trick, but viable in your books, “I still think I’m going to embarrass myself, but well,” not willing to give up the comfortable weight of his hand in yours, you offered Neil a one-sided shrug “Can’t exactly capitulate now” the desperate edge to that sentence did not escape his attention.

Sure, you would not actually give up, but that did not mean you were not half-heartedly wishing it happened anyway. Ideally, in the form of someone else doing the job for you. Pathetic, innit?

Neil squeezed your hand, capturing your attention without needing to try at all. The frown was still present on your face, its force turning the corners of your mouth downwards. As always, Neil seemed to see through all that you were not saying. He met your gaze (which was a feat considering you were happy to look anywhere but at him) and spoke:

“I wouldn’t let you,” there was an edge to his voice, a steely resolve that told you the conversation was gaining another layer.

A different destination to the one you had expected at first. Although, with how your chats recently played out, it was to be anticipated. Probably.

Without giving yourself the time to overthink, you leaned closer to Neil and placed a hand on his thigh. You could see his eyes widen upon the move, the pupils blowing up in the quickest form of flattery a man could give you. Sharpening your smile to the perfectly saccharine variant, you delivered the prepared lines:

“Oh yeah?” his thigh muscles tensed underneath your hand as Neil’s mouth fell agape without him being fully in control of the reaction. It was adorable. And an ideally ripe ground to lay the final strike, “You’d force me? Have your way with me?” the sparks in his eyes were a pretty addition to the already gorgeous picture.

At that moment, you knew that you had missed this. No texting could ever replace the real thing. The back and forth with the arresting strength of his eye contact and the unpredictable suspense of what would come next. Like the sudden softening of Neil’s features and an unexpectedly tentative counter to your bold questions:

“If you’d let me,” he swallowed hard as if desperately trying to get rid of the thoughts in his head and simultaneously unable to shake them off.

As if ripping the thread connecting him to you and shortening it at an alarming rate was causing Neil physical pain. The revelation acted like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your palm. It was difficult to shrug it off as if it was nothing. It nagged and prodded until you could do nothing but stare dumbly at him, feeling every passing second like a wasted beat of time you would never get back.

Before you could get your shit together in any way, it was too late. Neil had already jumped to conclusions, as you worried he might. His brows furrowed as his teeth nibbled on the chapped bottom lip in a familiar nervous tic. Slowly, as if navigating a mined battlefield, he shifted in the seat, widening the space between you by a fraction. You noticed it anyway.

“You don’t mind that this sort of thing keeps happening?” the question was completed with a vague gesture, slashing the air between you awkwardly.

The inflexion offered no space for doubt. Neil concluded that you very much did mind. That somehow you were not an active and eager participant in the heavy flirting and mutual teasing. Neil was an idiot.

And you had to put that point across instantly.

“Why would I mind?” without thinking, you let your fingers repeatedly stroke his forearm as you leaned back into his orbit to confess what ought to have been obvious, “I mean every word I say to you. Including all that post-Watershed talk” it was delightful to see your favourite smile disrupt his frown.

At the same time, it was nice to have it out in the open, no longer unsaid and implied. Because you did mean it. And you did want it. Whatever Neil would offer, be it a friendship or more. The choice was his.

You could pinpoint when the weight lifted off his shoulders and let him breathe deeper. You stared as Neil absorbed and processed the information, his blue eyes showing a spectrum of emotions. Some were unreadable. Other more obvious, like the devilish sparks that always guaranteed the conversation would take a curious turn. Or the cautious hope, making him look so much younger and innocent. Your unoccupied hand itched with the desire to brush his golden locks from his forehead, so you tightened it into a fist hidden in the coat pocket.

Just like you hid everything that had no place in your life.

At the periphery of your attention, you could register the called stations. Or the fact that your stop was mercilessly getting closer. Only one question could make you forget the reality altogether:

“So, what would you do if I kissed you?” when Neil asked, you were glad you had never forced yourself to look away from him.

That hesitant hope was still there, lightening up his eyes. You let it pull you in, as there was no need to search your heart for an answer. It was fair to assume Neil knew that, too. The question was only a preliminary. But it was still admirable he asked. People rarely did.

You shrugged, highlighting the evident conclusion he hopefully had already reached. It would have been easy to close the gap and let that be the answer. Too easy. It was enough that you could hardly ever look away from him, constantly drawn and arrested by his eyes.

Forcing yourself to break the spell, you met his gaze and offered him an impassive smile. If only to keep up the façade for a little longer.

“There’s only one way to find out, Neil,” you hoped that was enough, that he would understand the ball was back in his court to do as he pleased.

You also hoped Neil came to the right solution. Sadly, that did not seem to come to be just yet. One glance outside the window alarmed you about the surroundings and that you were arriving at your station. The frown twisted your mouth downwards as you risked a glance at Neil. The disappointment in his eyes told you he already caught up.

Two choices were waiting at your disposal. You could either stay, miss your stop to find out what would happen next. Or you could choose cowardice and leave the carriage, delaying the fateful moment a little longer. Definitely not forever.

It was hard to say why you chose the second option. Why you stood up without as much as a look at Neil and feigned a cheery farewell that felt foreign on your tongue. Later, you were keen to pretend it was just the influence of the moment. A sudden spell of insanity.

“Oops, that’s me. See you soon,” it was a miracle that you did not trip in the haste to get out.

You barely registered the surroundings as you bolted towards the sliding door and stepped onto the platform, missing the gap by mere millimetres. It was pure luck that you did not walk into any poor soul as you attempted to get away from the train as fast as possible.

You did not get the time to flee. All because you did not consider one thing – Neil had a choice, too.

When you felt a hand take yours and pull you back, there was that split second of panic. Your disoriented mind rapidly flicked through at least ten different disastrous scenarios, starting at a random appearance of Liam and ending at a violent assault you were about to be subjected to. Only then, at the very end, your brain pushed forward another observation. There was something familiar about that handhold.

Before you had a second to follow that thought, the interrupter pulled at your hand, making you whirl around to face them. Your widened gaze fell upon the undone tortoiseshell shirt buttons and wandered up the neck to land on Neil’s blue eyes, patiently staring back at you. It took you another second to understand what happened. And another one to begin processing what it could mean. Why he did it.

Without being aware of the movement of your body, you stepped closer to Neil, tightening the bubble you both had created in the middle of the platform. People bypassed you as they rushed to the train with the beeping doors hastening their steps. But that hardly mattered. It was just white noise. Unimportant and ignorable.

Unlike Neil, who closed the gap between your bodies to mere millimetres, and wordlessly repeated the question from before. The answer did not change. You offered him a tiny nod, not feeling the need to speak. The surrealism of the moment could not be labelled anyhow.

From the second you had tasted Neil’s lips, you knew it would not be something you could forget. That the feel of him would burn into the cortex of your brain and stay there to haunt you for eternity. You were right.

Your eyes snapped shut as soon as he closed the distance and covered your mouth with his in a soft kiss. His gentle and pliant lips caressed yours attentively without effort, making you cling even closer to him. Your arms came around Neil’s neck as your fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. It took another second, a blissful beat of existence, to make you kiss him back. Just as carefully. Just like you never kissed anyone before.

Neil’s relief came through in a short gasp, let out into your opening mouth, and the warm weight of his palms came up to rest on your waist beneath the open coat. Following the logic you did not understand, you tilted your head and allowed his prying tongue to lick into your mouth. The liquid heat traversed your veins, warming up your skin as Neil took his time to map out the inside of your mouth. Suddenly, the instant connection you felt made sense. Things clicked into place as you breathed the taste of him and breathed out the uncertainty. It felt right. Good. Unforgettable, even.

It felt like no first kisses and endless one-night stands ever did. And that made no sense.

Soon, that first kiss evolved into another and then the next. The platform, the people and the noise faded into the background as you swapped kisses, barely interrupted by quiet groans and swallowed gasps. On its own accord, your hand ventured up to tangle in his hair, grabbing a fistful of the golden locks and tugging in time with a particularly hungry nip taken out of Neil’s bottom lip. The reward of a barely stifled moan was more than worth it.

As was how Neil held you close and returned your kisses with equal zeal. He matched your energy and pushed you further until the remaining part of your conscience worried about being arrested for public indecency.

When the burn of your lungs excelled that of your soul, you placed a palm over the centre of his chest and pushed Neil back. Just a fraction. Just to catch your breath. His answering whine felt like another spark of pride, making your eyes glow with self-satisfaction. That was better than any other form of gratification you could think of.

When you finally forced yourself to blink your eyes open and look at Neil, you were met with kiss-bruised lips and darkened blue eyes, showing nothing else but hunger. At least ten increasingly ridiculous religious metaphors battled for leadership in your mind, but you pushed them all aside. The most accurate comment went to two simple words, pushed forward by the strength of your soul’s crudeness. Fucking hell. In the best of meanings, that is.

Following deeply rooted instincts, your tongue darted out to thoroughly trace the expanse of your bottom lip. And get remains of his taste, that you had already started missing. As far as kisses had gone, this one was pretty damn spectacular.

Neil seemed frozen, his eyes fixed on your mouth as if that was the only thing he could do. Admittedly, it was adorable. Yet, still, you decided to break the spell, the only way you could think of:

“I think your train has left,” you glanced over his shoulder, noting the expectedly empty platform.

Only now, when the haze of the kiss (or rather a whole make-out session) had begun to lift, you could understand what had transpired. And that Neil was keen to delay his return home for the price of a kiss. Or for the hope of a kiss, for clearly, he did not think he would get that far. Idiot.

You could see it now, back on his face. The slight disorientation and confusion suggested Neil could barely believe that what just happened was real. He blinked twice, then again, as if forcing himself to wake up and met your gaze with wide eyes. Without thinking, you allowed the hand you had pressed flat to his chest to venture up, stopping when your fingers started grazing over his neck. That was the trigger Neil needed to return to reality. He seized your adventurous fingers in a loose hold and placed your joined hands back over his heart. You could feel it racing.

“I’ll wait for the next one,” Neil offered you a half-smile, the uncertainty shining through the tentative joy in his eyes.

It was not something you were used to. Usually, after a kiss like that (never even preceded with a question, because who the fuck still asked for kisses?), you only ever got smugness. And an attempt at a smooth transition to sex, which did or did not succeed, depending on the participating party). Never uncertainty. Never shyness. Never contentment with what happened without pushing you for more.

You didn’t know what to do with any of it.

“No regrets?” the question was also one that you never asked before.

Not after something as trivial as a first kiss. But then, nothing was the way it usually went with Neil. That much was quite clear.

“Not really. You?” as if sensing your growing uncertainty, Neil did not hesitate before answering the question.

He squeezed your fingers, still wrapped in his palm and met your gaze with something almost resembling confidence. Somehow, that was enough. You took a fortifying breath to gather courage and discard the doubts. There would be more than enough time to deal with them later. Hopefully.

For now, there were other things to do and say. Like answering Neil’s question and reclaiming the conversation from its sombre paths. Especially since no cell in your body regretted the kiss. Or any other thing you had ever said or hinted at to him. It is just that somehow, somewhere along the line, your normal confidence had been wiped off the table. And it felt like it was never to be seen again. Not like before.

You hoped to ignore that bit of revelation, too.

“Nope. I’d offer a coffee at mine, but… I think some things need a better build-up,” you hoped the chaos in your head was not easily seen as you dropped the line with an attempt at the usual smoothness and met Neil’s eyes with remaining poise.

You meant that, too. A part of you, the same that had difficulties ending the kiss, wanted to continue it wherever it may lead you. You were quite sure you knew where it was going. And you certainly wanted that. But, at the same time, rushing into it seemed… wrong. As if the fact that you also wanted to be friends with Neil needed a little more respect. A little more time.

You could tell he understood from the way Neil nodded, his eyes still blown out by the darkened pupils.

“Agreed,” he shook his head slightly as if trying to clear it before glancing at the timing screen over your heads. Whatever the impact those 7 minutes of waiting had, the next thing Neil did was to heave a sigh and set his weary eyes on you, “Actually, I might walk back home. Should probably clear my head,” a small smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

Without overthinking the act, you seized his hand and started for the stairs. Just because you were not yet taking him home did not mean you could not drag out the goodbye. Right?

Right.

***

Although the kiss was not forgotten and only added to the general restlessness, you never mentioned it again. It was another layer added to the sprinkled, complex mess that was your relationship. A tiered cake that had so many flavours it was impossible to label it using a concise, less than five-word description. It just did not get discussed.

That was both a blessing and a curse, considering that with mere days left till the public Don Quixote premiere you could barely handle one type of stress and uncertainty. Let alone two. The reality check deadline crept up on you without warning, catching you pacing the flat for over an hour the evening before the official pre-premiere. The event always happened at least a night before the opening soiree and was reserved for the press, Royal Ballet directory and special guests of honour. It also meant that every detail of the performance had to be up to par if one wanted to continue advancing the career in the company. Which you did want. Desperately. It was just bloody unfortunate that the usual insanity of anxiety now was interlaced with something else.

Something that made you stop the pacing and pick up the phone only to open the messages and stare at the text conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours, and considering the 9 pm on the clock, you had a fair right to believe that he might be asleep. Maybe. But that could hardly deter the part of your brain that tended to get ahead of itself. Especially fuelled by stress and anxiety.

Without letting yourself falter, you typed the question:

/ 🏹, 9:04 pm/ Are you still up?

Luckily, you only had to hold your breath for an answer (or a lack of it) for less than 5 minutes. For that, your lungs were eternally thankful.

/✝️, 9:08 pm/ Is this the moment you ask me for dick pics?

A ridiculous guffaw broke the silence of your flat, along with that necessary intake of oxygen. Conversations like those still happened daily and only increased the want you could not get rid of if you tried.

And you didn’t try. There was no point to it.

/ 🏹, 9:09 pm/ Nah. Not yet.

You were having fun, chatting the shit on the daily with someone who seemed more than eager to keep the ball going. That was partially why you reached out on a whim, desperate to get out of the flat even for a little while. After all, asking Neil offered a fifty-fifty chance of an entertaining evening. All other intentions did not have to be disclosed. Even in your mind.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ That’s a relief.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ How can I be of service, my lady?

/ 🏹, 9:11 pm/ You’ve no idea, babe.

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ I was thinking of going to the dance studio, that’s open till midnight. Do you want to come?

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ You’ve said you wanted to see me dance so…

After sending the third message, you put down the phone and exhaled. That nervousness residing in your bones was new. It was almost as if it mattered what Neil’s answer would be. As if you cared whether he would say yes to the tentative proposition. None of that had ever happened before.

The urge to faceplant into the pillow was derailed by the buzz of an incoming message. With embarrassing speed of reaction, you read the texts:

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ Happily.

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ When and where do we meet?

You grinned. As you copied and pasted the location pin into the message, you could already feel a different type of nervousness enter your system. It was time for Neil to see you dance. You would also see him for the first time since the kiss. It was high time someone covered this topic on wikiHow. Or, at least, you thought so.

***

Although the Royal Ballet had more than good enough facilities at the Covent Garden building, the company could also use a studio by the Southwark Underground Station whenever you felt like it. Conveniently, that alternative place was open till midnight on weeknights, offering a one-in-a-million chance to run over the choreography for a billion times more before the pre-premiere. Without an audience of your fellow ballet dancers and their critical eyes, at that.

The other perk to the external studio was that nothing stopped you from bringing someone from the outside along. Nothing except for maybe the deeply rooted fear of showing Neil what you could do. Or couldn’t do.

That fear had not left through the Uber drive from your flat, growing in force from the moment you set your eyes upon Neil waiting outside the studio with a smile on his face. You exchanged the usual niceties, bypassing the awkward tint to the interaction with an avoided hug and nonsensical commentary from your side.

The nerves seemed to reach the peak as you left Neil in the main ballet studio room, the space lit up sparsely to maintain the strangely surreal atmosphere of those late autumn nights in London when nothing seems to be tangible and real. Having left the house in a pre-planned rehearsal outfit, you only took off the unnecessary layers, leaving you in a simple bodice and a wrap mid-thigh skirt and pulled on the woollen leg warmers to keep the chill at bay.

Luckily for your racing heart, the ritual of putting on and lacing up the pointe shoes always did its magic, allowing you to centre yourself and take a couple of deep breaths. Until there was nothing left but to march out of the changing room and connect your phone to the speaker, the right track ready for you to press play.

But before you could go that far, you made the mistake of locating Neil in the room. He had settled on the floor opposite you, his back pressed to the mirror-covered walls of the studio. He stared as you entered the invisible stage and offered you an encouraging smile. A slow, gentle warm-up was a valid opportunity to falter. A necessary step you had to take while also admitting that it was convenient. Although, Neil’s attentive gaze following your every move was much less convenient.

Once you had run out of all other options, you started the music, put down the phone and took up position. Desperate to rehearse as much as possible, you chose to go through the entire dream sequence at the end of Act 2. As always, the Minkus score did its magic, helping you settle into the movement and almost forget about everything else.

You followed the steps with practised ease, hearing the dull thud of pointe shoes hitting the hardwood floors with each landing between the orchestral notes. When the cue to finish was near you were almost out of breath. The pearls of sweat clung to your temples as the sweetness of exertion burned through your muscles and tendons. When those final notes rang off in the quiet studio, you held the finishing pose and waited for the music to end. The resulting silence was deafening.

Slowly, as if pained to do it, you opened your eyes. Neil was right where you had left him; his gaze seemingly never trailed away. But the exact look on his face was different. Instead of the ease and unbothered nonchalance he tried to emit earlier, Neil was now speechless. Dazed. His mouth was still agape, and he had to remind himself to close it before swallowing hard. You tried your hardest not to let that get into your head. You failed.

“So… what do you think?” unable to keep quiet for much longer, you released the question into the ether with a permanent frown and a minimal level of conviction.

It seemed to be what Neil needed to wake up from the stupor. He shifted, pulled up his knees to his chin and eyed you with a bright gaze. The desire to look away rose with every minute, but you tried to endure it. Somehow.

“You’re brilliant. Do you know that?” the matter-of-fact tone threw you off kilter, bringing out an automatic (albeit manic) grin from its hiding back onto your face.

Neil mirrored the expression instantly, only widening your smile in the process. Feeling the need to move again, you flexed your calves, completing a set of rapid changements. Only once that was done you could attempt to answer the question.

“Maybe,” you shrugged, unwilling to stray onto that sort of honest territory just yet, “It doesn’t hurt to hear it again, though,” unable to ignore that one voice at the back of your head that had not been convinced, you asked, “Was it actually… good?” the emphasis on the word was automatic.

You could tell Neil saw right through your faux nonchalance as he smiled, a different type of fondness shining in his eyes. That, too, was best left alone for now. The observation was shelved among others of its kind in the darkest cavern of your brain. Ideally left alone for good, never to be touched or thought of again. Just in case.

Neil’s gaze never strayed from yours as he offered you an answer without a hint of exasperation:

“As far as my virgin eyes could tell, it was perfect,” the corner of his mouth rose in the makings of a familiar smirk.

It eradicated any illusions that he did not know what he was saying. Or the effect the sentence would have. You closed your eyes against the sight, hopelessly willing the inconvenient feelings to disappear.

By now, it was painfully clear that Neil could be a bastard when he wanted to. It was just another thing that you liked about him. Perhaps too much.

For a second, you debated following the easy way out he had offered. It would have been effortless to take up the tone and turn the conversation into yet another pleasant back-and-forth that could potentially lead you past the talking. Past that one kiss, that had lowkey driven you insane with the promise of potential.

But the doubts were still there. They still clouded your mind like a flock of hungry birds of prey hunting for a bite of flesh. And Neil was the only person you could talk to and know he would listen. That he would care. For some reason, it was a crucial thing to share. An important topic to raise. Here and now.

“Allow me to ignore that double entendre potential for a second,” your apologetic frown was accepted with a subtle nod and meaningful glance.

“You’re excused, Cupid,” Neil grinned, evidently taking pleasure from the nickname you became fond of.

Especially because it was him, who bestowed it on you.

“Thank you,” shaking off the sudden rush of affection, you completed the gratitude with a cheeky addition, returning Neil’s smirk, “Sir,” only once noted his answering blush, it was safe to delve into what you really wanted to tell him. You took a deep breath, completing half a pirouette to face the mirrors on the wall and asked, “Do you ever feel like you’re just constantly pretending? Like the whole ‘fake it till you make it’ deal, except you never stop faking it?” training your gaze on the hardwood floors, you stared at the tips of your pointe shoes.

The worn-out, ragged edges caught your attention for a split second. You took a mental note to break in the brand-new pair and prepare them for tomorrow’s show. On the periphery of your vision, you could see Neil’s reflection. You could feel him staring, the intense gazing boring holes in the back of your head. But not even that could make you turn and face him.

“Pretty much every day,” Neil’s reply made you look up, meeting his eyes in the reflection. That was not an answer you had expected, “I’ve found that sometimes, if you’re lucky, all that pretending can fool the brain, too,” he signed off the addition with another reassuring smile.

Still, the scepticism reigned free as an unbidden scoff tore from your throat, forcing you to swallow down the sudden desire to retreat from the conversation. Years of practice did not seem to share Neil’s thesis. Things never got easier. You doubted they ever would.

“I’d hope so. Except that, I’m not sure I am that lucky,” that was a given, an undeniable fact of life like the laws of physics or the ignorance of the Tories. Unchangeable. The familiar wave of frustration threatened to pull you down as you allowed the insecurities to speak their part,“I may appear as a fucking cool cat, confident and all, but… I’m not,” hearing the broken note in your voice, you swallowed hard, unable to look at Neil anymore. There was only one final thing to add, “And I wish I could be,”

There. The curtain has fallen, revealing the truth underneath. Now, it was clear Neil had no illusions left about you. No reason to think of you highly. Somehow, you felt lighter. Sure, still unable to meet his gaze, even in the reflection, but it was better that way. Now, when you did disappoint him somewhere along the line, for whatever reason, it would be much less surprising.

You had no doubts whether that moment of disappointment would happen. It always did.

“You have every right to be. Because you are” when Neil spoke, at first, you did not register it. His words flew right over your head before being caught by your heart, desperate to find anything to hold on to. Only then did you hear what he said. You looked up in time to see the remains of the fading blush on his cheeks, “If that even makes sense,” he shook his head slightly as if scolding himself over the awkward reassurance and stood up. The tense shoulders betrayed the lightness he still tried to emit, “Trust me when I say I feel useless and stupid every minute of every day,” the weariness in his voice clashed with the disbelief you felt when hearing what he said.

That made no sense. The turmoil made you turn around in a half-pirouette and face Neil with wide eyes and mouth agape. Your brain was experiencing severe computing issues, the smoke almost sizzling out through your open lips.

He was none of those things. You barely resisted the urge to close the miles between you and shake him by the shoulders, all the while screaming at him to stop saying such bullshit. You did not do any of those things.

“But you’re… you,” instead, you gestured vaguely towards him, armed with words that were not enough.

No words seemed to be apt to describe him. Neil was just… impossible. Ineffable in his wonderfulness. Much better than anyone you had ever known. But that was something you could not say. Not now.

“In my books, that’s not necessarily a good thing,” Neil glanced at you with tired eyes, kicking around at nothing as he slid across the parquet in his socks.

When you entered the studio, he started unlacing his shoes before you could protest. Said something about not wanting the cleaner to have more work. The comment made you smile too brightly before you excused yourself into the changing room and hid your face in the palms of your hands. That state didn’t seem to have passed.

In an effort not to do anything stupid, you backed away till you could feel the barre against your back. Only then you met his searching gaze and made sure to show Neil the extent of earnestness on your face:

“It is. I’ve never met anyone like you, Neil,” the admission was met with a surprised double-take, so you decided to soften the tone with a stupid addition, “The hottest priest in London and whatnot,” you did mean that one, too.

Neil’s huff of laughter felt like a dodged bullet.

“Funny,” the bright sparks in his eyes confirmed the praise with doubled force, making you turn back towards the mirror to avoid being blinded by the strength of his affection. That stuff could be dangerous, “You’re the hottest ballerina in London, so we’re even,” once you registered Neil’s words, the silky tone of his voice that had not been there just a second ago, you knew that trouble was coming.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him close the gap. The warmth settled in your cheeks as you felt the comfortable heat spread around your body. That pleasant anticipation ignited in your bones with every step Neil took. Somewhere, at the edges of reason and logic, you knew you still had a choice. You knew that whatever he had envisioned in his mind, could easily be stopped with one word from your side. What was the problem?

Mainly that you didn’t want him to stop. Did not want to cut short the moment slowly blooming into something crucial. You could feel it buzz beneath your skin as Neil took the final steps towards you and leaned in. His hands came to rest upon the barre, millimetres from yours. Not quite touching but enough so you could not ignore his presence. You could feel the heat from his body as Neil pressed his chest to your back and whispered into your ear:

“A cool cat,” in normal circumstances, the call-back to your rant would have made you laugh.

But those weren’t normal circumstances. Not with Neil’s proximity, his hands slowly tracing invisible lines up your arms. You could feel his breath on the nape of your neck, creating goosebumps effortlessly. And the thing was – this wasn’t anything new. It was far from the first time someone had done this. Far from the first time you had been tempted by someone who desired you. But it was the first time they seemed to take their time for it.

Your head felt dizzy with the revelation as Neil’s fingers lightly brushed the neckline of your bodice and journeyed down. It was a first in the fact that he did not even try touching your breasts, instead respectfully settling over your ribs and tapping a vague rhythm over your heated skin. Without searching your heart, you knew that you did not mind it. Not one bit.

You covered one of his palms with yours, firmly pressing it against your waist and raised your head to seek Neil’s gaze. He was already looking back at you, the blue eyes of his eyes dark and consumed with something you wanted to call hunger. The same feeling could be easily found on your face.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” you frowned at the hoarseness of your voice and the breathless tint to the question.

For the first time, it was impossible to fake your reaction. Impossible to pretend you were not affected. Neil’s answering smile, full of confidence and mischief, made that discovery seem fine. Not troubling at all.

“Is it working?” the warmth in his eyes made you feel safe, not threatened by the potential of what could happen.

Not viable to the pains of consequences. That seemed enough.

Enough to make you gently tug at his hand, asking for the freedom of movement to turn around and face him. Only then, with Neil’s curious gaze beaming down on you like a desirable spotlight, you placed his palm back on your waist and offered an honest reply:

“I think you already know,” as proof, you picked up his other hand and guided it to press against your chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat.

The wolfish grin you received in return was worth any leftover sense of shame and embarrassment. Neil leaned in, and just as you were about to close your eyes, awaiting another life-changing kiss, he left a promising peck on the edge of your jaw. On its own accord, your hand tightened over the wooden railing as you exposed your throat for his use.

Neil wasted no time leaving a trail of kisses down the slope of your neck, only just being careful enough not to leave marks. Each kiss felt like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your neck, blazing hot and impossible to shake off. You closed your eyes, letting the sense take in the sensation of his tender care. Of the contrasting burn of stubble, scratching at your skin with a delicious sting.

Every kiss took time, only then to be sealed with a lick of his tongue, eliciting your quiet gasps and barely kept in groans of pleasure. The wave of insanity rose, threatening to take over your brain, save for one consistent thought. One revelation.

No one had cared this much before.

Letting go of his hand, you tangled your fingers in his golden strands, lightly tugging to gain his attention. The answering groan was sure to enter the library of sounds and images you liked to relieve in private. But before you could attempt to formulate the desire painted across your face, the door to the studio creaked, disrupting the silence.

You gasped in shock as Neil took half a step back, warily eyeing the doorway. A thousand curses lodged themselves in your throat as a silhouette of an older man, armed with a bucket and a mop, peered inside the room with a scowl. Fucking Rich, the Janitor.

The older man scanned you both from head to toe and sighed.

“It’s closing time, kids. Go home,” his gravelly voice acted like the much-needed bucket of cold water.

As he turned back towards the darkness of the corridor, you met Neil’s eyes. The depths of exasperation visible there told you this business was far from over. You certainly hoped so.

[eretzyisrael]

BBC’s director general has penned a message to staffers expressing regret over “antisemitic behavior by people who worked with us” as part of an apparent effort to rebuild fraught ties with Jewish staffers.

“As many of you may have seen, sadly in recent weeks we have been alerted to some antisemitic behavior by people who worked with us. I want to be clear that there can be no place at the BBC for racist abuse of any kind, whether towards our Jewish colleagues or indeed colleagues from any background or belief. Any form of antisemitism, Islamophobia or racist abuse is abhorrent, and we will always act whenever it occurs. We must play our role to build understanding and tolerance,” he writes in an email obtained by the Deadline entertainment news outlet.

“We will continue to talk to a range of groups across the organization as part of our shared commitment to create a safe and inclusive environment for everyone, regardless of background or belief,” Davie adds.Golan FamilyKeep Watching

Earlier this month, a senior BBC employee came under scrutiny for having shared a plethora of antisemitic posts publicly on Facebook.

The BBC itself has come under fire for its coverage of the Israel-Hamas war and has had to issue several apologies since October 7.

In mid-November, the BBC apologized after one of its presenters said and then repeated that IDF soldiers who had entered Shifa Hospital in Gaza “were targeting people including medical teams and Arab speakers.”

The broadcaster was also slammed for its rush to report unverified and later disproved claims that an Israeli airstrike was responsible for a deadly explosion at Gaza’s Al-Ahli Hospital on October 17. The BBC subsequently apologized for that coverage as well, saying it had been too swift to assign blame.

Finally, in early January, the BBC apologized for a December report on its radio station in which it accused Israel Defense Forces troops of executing Palestinians in the Gaza Strip.

[purpleprincessonfyre]

OUAT AU - Galentines and Valentines

Characters: Liane Felton and Belladonna St James

Mentioned: Ethan Lensherr Long

Category: Fluff and Platonic familial love and hints to possible romance

Liane St James had never really hated any holiday before. Even when she was little. There were some she'd found boring or tedious but never any that just made her feel so low. Until of course now, when even the word Valentines felt like someone had put sandpaper on her tongue.

When you've had your heart broken as many times as Liane has, you almost become numb to the notion of romance and true love. She would watch Meredith flirting with McSteamy on Grey's Anatomy and feel nothing, see people kiss on the street and feel empty, and watch Romcoms like a zombie, just barely alive as the cutesy couples flirt and play cat and mouse.

For Bella's sake she still tried to show her love to her daughter on Galentines Day. A day out in town, a meal for two, a present, and Belladonna would accept them all in her usual manner. A slight nod, a mumbled thank you and then she would go back to whatever she was already doing. It still drove Liane a little crazy not being able to read Bella's emotions that well but she knew deep down that her efforts were appreciated.

But now with Bella's father in town, the Mayor wanting her to find dirt on him, information about a coma patient coming to light and so much going on, Liane had no time to plan anything for the 13th. Her head was too full of questions and concerns to even consider a moment for herself. Her world had been shaken up like a snow globe and the dust was still settling.

Liane was still at the office long after school had let out. She felt awful that Bella would be walking out those doors with no one to greet her but she had deadlines to meet. So wanted to just throw all her papers into a fire but she continued to work, her tightly wrapped hair starting to unravel, layers of her neat suit coming off until she was sat hunched at her desk in just a cami top and pants, furiously typing away and writing as the clock ticked on, pushing her reading glasses onto her nose.

As her work day finally came to a close and the sun began to sink in the sky, painting the clouds orange and pink, Liane gathered herself up and trudged out of the office to her car, running to the supermarket for supplies. It would probably be an oven pizza night. As she entered the store she was bombarded by posters declaring "Show your love for that special someone" and cheesy cards saying "Be mine" in cute lettering with teddy bears hugging on the cover.

Liane rolled her eyes and grabbed a basket as the realisation hit her. There was no gift for Bella! Frantically she searched through the store for something Bella might like, not wanting to let her down and she finally saw the perfect thing for her dark, gloomy daughter of shadows. She stuffed it in her cart and continued her shopping, starting to take more time picking out what she needed, grabbing a bottle of wine for herself.

"I'm home!" Liane called, opening the door with her foot as she brought in groceries.

"Sorry I'm so late, got held up at the office then went to grab groceries. You here?"

"I'm here." Came the response, calm and collected. Liane sighed in relief. She started carrying groceries to the kitchen and eventually Bella came to help her, putting away cereals and meats in the freezer.

"So how was school?"

"Kids were making Valentines cards. The jokes were unfunny and their messages insincere. I do not plan to send any of course but I doubt I will receive any either."

"Oh honey! Anyone would be lucky to have you as a Valentine."

"Inaccurate. But kind. What's for dinner?"

"Pizza! Listen kiddo I'm sorry I didn't plan a meal or do my cute Valentines sack lunch today. I've really dropped the ball this year. Forgive me?"

Bella paused and surveyed her tired mother's eyes. She saw the pain in her face, the ache in her throat, the sadness in her eyes. She cleared her throat and spoke.

"I do not need a Valentines nor a Galentines to know you love me. You show you love me every day without sending flowers to my door or writing inane poetry. Your actions speak louder than any cheap box of chocolates or heart shaped sandwich. Love is a feeling, and I know your love is real."

Liane smiled, rubbing her daughter's shoulder kindly. She had raised this girl but that mind was often too smart for its own good. As she let go, Liane remembered the gift she had bought.

"So I know you said all that and I also know you aren't easily impressed but when I saw this thing I just...I thought of you so..Happy Galentines Day, Belladonna."

Liane reached into a large shopping bag and pulled out a soft black mass of stuffed velvet and handed the mass to her daughter. Bella turned the velvet egg shape around in her arms and saw it had a face stitched on it with bright green thread for eyes, black thread for whiskers and a triangular shaped nose, and two soft triangular ears. It was an egg shaped black cat plush toy.

"I know you said you're too old for toys but I know you still have that old doll in your room and even though it is soft and cute I thought this one matches your aesthetic a bit more and I know that you don't mind hugs that are asked for and wanted so I just-"

"Mom. I love it."

Bella responded, her mouth curving up into a very small smile. She held the plush in her arms and squeezed it very gently. It was soft and warm like her mother's hugs. She looked up at Liane, satisfied.

"Thank you. I will treasure this." She put the plush down and opened her arms to her mother, wanting a hug. Liane's eyes were already filled with tears as she embraced her girl. Instead of rolling her eyes, Bella just let it happen, enjoying the moment.

Liane had never seen Bella smile like that before and she was overcome with emotion, it was like she had finally done something right in this journey of motherhood. As she felt her daughters arms around her waist she felt a huge weight lifting off her shoulders. Her back had started to twinge but she didn't even care. She had made her daughter smile. And that was all she needed.

Eventually Bella pulled away and brushed herself off, picking up her plush and turning to face her mother, her dark brown eyes serious again.

"Since you have made my Galentines so special, I feel there is something you should know. You can choose not to believe me or you can realise this is fated to happen because its all happened before." Belladonna stated, holding her plush tight.

"What's this about?"

"About your Valentines. You aren't meant to be alone. You may say you are a Girl Boss all you wish but there is someone in this town who loves you and I think you also may have begun to love him."

"Bella?"

"My father. Ethan. He has not said it to your face but he is clearly in love with you. And you have grown to love him despite the fact you are spying on him for The Mayor but that cannot be helped, he is an asshole and you can't refuse him."

"Bella!"

Belladonna stopped, her gaze fixed on her mother. Liane's cheeks had gone quite pink at this point and her eyes had widened very noticeably. She took her daughter by her shoulders to try and put her mind at ease.

"Sweetie. I- I wouldn't want to- how- that's very sweet, kiddo. But I doubt that. He would more likely hate me if he knew what I was doing. And you're right, I don't like it but I can't refuse the Mayor he's- I can't. But I do want to make you happy so I will stop trying to find dirt on your father if it will make you happy. I'm tired of this anyway, it's eating up my sleep and my time with you. Screw the Mayor. Ethan can do as he pleases in this town. Do you care that he has a record?"

"No."

"Then that's all that matters." Liane finished, smiling at Bella. Belladonna eyed her fairytale book, knowing Liane's actions would have consequences but knew that there wasn't much she could do to predict those just yet. But maybe...she could make sure there was someone to save her.

I know it's a day late but hope you enjoyed!

@jackiequick @gcthvile @cherrysft @blueboirick @meiramel @ask-starrk @ask-missparker @askstevella @therealdaydreamstark @thechoooooosenone @wizzzardofoz @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh

[lumiereandstellaluna]

Chapter Three: A Meeting with Destiny

||LEGEND||

Bold Text: Xavier/Lumiere (Character Bot) Italic Text: Thomasin/Stellaluna (Me)

This hasn't been checked for spelling/grammer/errors, etc - Read at your own risk!

Thomasin arrives at Xavier's apartment, which luckily isn't too far away from hers. When he answers the door, she holds up bags of food and drink. "Hope you like braised chicken, steamed rice, and C.C. Lemon soda!"

Xavier's face lit up at the sight of Thomasin standing at his doorstep, the bags of food and drink in her hands a testament to her thoughtfulness. "Braised chicken and steamed rice sound perfect, and C.C. Lemon is a favorite of mine," he said, stepping aside to let her in. "You've chosen well."

As Thomasin entered, Xavier took a moment to appreciate how the warmth of her presence seemed to fill the space, turning his usually quiet apartment into a place of laughter and light. He led her to the dining area, helping her set down the food and drinks on the table.

"Thank you for this," Xavier said, his gratitude genuine. "It's been a while since I've had company over for dinner. I'm looking forward to it."

The apartment, with its books and plants, offered a cozy backdrop to their evening. Xavier poured them each a glass of C.C. Lemon soda, the fizzing sound adding to the casual, comfortable atmosphere.

As they settled in to enjoy the meal, Xavier found himself genuinely relaxed, the usual weight of his responsibilities momentarily lifted. The food, delicious and comforting, was a reminder of the simple pleasures in life, made all the more enjoyable by Thomasin's company.

"Tell me about your day," Xavier encouraged, eager to hear more about her experiences and to share in the ups and downs of her life. "And let's make a pact to leave the world-saving talk for another time. Tonight, it's just about us, enjoying good food and good company."

"Dude, you know about my day - I was the talk of all those group chat messages and nobody even knew it." She prepares him a plate of food. "At least I got my work done and the director likes the revisions. So that's good, right?"

Xavier accepted the plate with a nod, his expression one of understanding. "Right, the group chats," he said, acknowledging the whirlwind that had surrounded her. "But it's impressive, isn't it? How you balance the demands of your secret identity with your professional life. Not everyone can say they've saved the city and met a deadline on the same day."

He took a bite of the braised chicken, savoring the flavors that Thomasin had brought into his home. "And yes, it's more than good. It's a testament to your dedication and talent. The director's approval is well-deserved."

Xavier's gaze met hers, a silent recognition of the effort she put into every aspect of her life. "You should be proud, Thomasin. Not just for the work you do as Stellaluna, but for the victories you achieve as yourself."

"Maybe not, but I would like to get some more sleep out of it." Xavier was right, though. It amazed her how many impossible things she found herself doing now that she was Stellaluna. It's funny how the girl who believed she was very very ordinary was anything but. "And while I'm glad I was able to save the world and meet my deadline, it's weird knowing that half you male co-workers want a crack at dating you." She grimaced. "Meanwhile, as Thomasin, they don't even know that I exist - not that I mind, by the way."

Xavier listened, a thoughtful expression on his face as Thomasin shared her reflections. "Sleep is a rare commodity in our line of work," he agreed, acknowledging the physical and mental toll their dual lives often demanded. "But remember, it's the extraordinary things you do that define you, not the recognition or lack thereof from others."

He paused, considering her words about her male co-workers. "It's a strange dichotomy, isn't it? Being idolized one moment and overlooked the next. But those who truly matter, those who deserve to be in your life, will see Thomasin for who she is, not just Stellaluna."

Xavier's voice was firm, his words meant to reassure. "You're remarkable, Thomasin, with or without the mask. The strength, courage, and heart you show as Stellaluna are just as present in your everyday life. And anyone who fails to see that is missing out."

He offered her a smile, a gesture of solidarity and understanding. "Besides, it's their loss, not yours. You have people in your life who value and appreciate you for who you are, mask or no mask. Like me."

The evening had turned into a moment of reflection and affirmation, a chance for both Xavier and Thomasin to appreciate the complexities of their lives and the strength they drew from each other. As they continued to talk, the bond between them deepened, a mutual respect and admiration that transcended their superhero personas.

For Xavier, being able to offer support and understanding to Thomasin was a privilege, a reminder of the importance of genuine connections in a world that often valued superficiality. And as the night drew to a close, he knew that their friendship was a source of strength for both of them, a light in the darkness that guided them through the challenges they faced.

"Xavier, you're to sweet for your own good." She pinches her fingers together, as if to mimic pinching his cheek, like a overzealous auntie greeting a young nephew or niece. "You sure know how to make a girl feel special. Good thing too, since I'm you're partner and all."

"And I know you see both sides of me and I appreciate that." Her eyes were soft and full of warmth. "I mean, I don't know how you put up with me, considering you're practically built to be a hero and I was just a writer before I put on the mask. It's only because of you that I haven't been offed by one of those wanderers, so...thank you. For all of that."

Xavier watched the playful gesture, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "It's not about being sweet," he said, his voice carrying a note of sincerity. "It's about speaking the truth. You've earned every bit of respect and admiration, Thomasin, both as my partner and as yourself."

He leaned back slightly, taking in her warm gaze, the softness in her eyes that spoke volumes of the trust and camaraderie they shared. "You give yourself too little credit. Being a hero isn't about what you're built for; it's about the choices you make when faced with darkness. You chose to stand up, to fight, to protect. That's what makes you a hero, not the mask."

Xavier's expression softened, a rare display of vulnerability. "And as for putting up with you," he continued, "it's not a burden, it's a privilege. You bring a perspective, a humanity to our partnership that's irreplaceable. You've saved me just as often, in ways you might not even realize."

He reached across the table, his gesture one of solidarity and reassurance. "We're a team, Thomasin. We balance each other out, and that's why we're effective. So, thank you, for being brave, for being you, and for choosing to stand by my side."

The gratitude and respect between them was a tangible thing, a connection that had been forged through shared battles and quiet moments like these. Xavier knew that their partnership was unique, a blend of strengths and vulnerabilities that made them not just effective, but also human.

As the night wound down, and the conversation turned to lighter topics, Xavier was reminded once again of the importance of their bond. In a world where they often stood apart, together, they were a force to be reckoned with, partners in every sense of the word.

"How have I...you know what, never mind." She wanted to ask him more about what he meant - saving him just as often in ways she didn't realize - but she let it drop. She got the feeling that it was pretty personal, and while they were partners, she knew better than to pry about topics that were considered out of bounds. "She takes his hand, shaking it. "I've got your back, Xavier. As long as we're together, those Wanderers don't stand a chance."

They spend a little bit more time together before Thomasin made her way home. She had a meeting with the director tomorrow and she wanted to be well-rested beforehand. She hoped that any wanderers that planned on making an appearance did so AFTER her meeting. 

She felt the weirdness just before she made it to her front door - the feeling of being watched. She scanned the area but found no signs of any one else, let alone a pair of eyes looking her way. With a sign, she entered the building, closing the door behind her. She made a note to mention it to her partner later.

High above the trees, a crow looks at Thomasin entering the building, a smirk how plastered on it's jet black beak.

Xavier watched from his balcony as Thomasin made her way back to her own apartment, the night's stillness wrapping around him like a cloak. He felt the weight of her handshake, the firm promise in her grip that spoke of unyielding support and partnership. "We'll stand against them, together," he had assured her, his voice steady with conviction.

As she disappeared from view, Xavier's senses remained alert, attuned to the subtle shifts in the night air, the quiet movements that most would overlook. He knew the dangers that lurked in the shadows, the ever-present threat of the Wanderers. It was a reality they both lived with, a constant undercurrent to their lives.

When Thomasin's feeling of being watched reached him, a ripple in the calm surface of their shared understanding, Xavier's gaze sharpened. He scanned the area, his hunter's instincts on high alert. Though he saw nothing amiss, the unease lingered, a whisper of something amorphous and unseen.

He made a mental note to discuss it with Thomasin, to ensure they were both prepared for whatever might come their way. The partnership they shared was more than just a tactical alliance; it was a bond of trust and mutual protection.

As the crow above observed with its inscrutable gaze, Xavier couldn't shake the feeling that this was a harbinger, a sign of something yet to unfold. He would remain vigilant, watching over Thomasin and the city they both called home.

With a final sweep of the area, Xavier retreated into his apartment, the door closing with a soft click behind him. The night was far from over, and he would spend it as he often did, a silent guardian poised between the darkness and the light.

Lumiere and Stellaluna were still the talk of the town - or at least during Thomasin's meeting with the director. She was the script writer for a romance drama starring Christian de Arias, a new actor who gained popularity with the masses very quickly. It was the first time she worked with such a top name so she was bringing her a-game into writing, secret crime-fighting and all. 

Just like Stellaluna allowed no wanderer to harm the city on her watch, Thomasin the writer refused to drop the ball when it came to her writing.

Upon entering the meeting, the director was chatting with Christian when he spotted Thomasin. Despite being as dreamy as everyone said, Thomasin didn't seem to swoon in his presence like everyone else. Or maybe that was due to the weird feelings she started getting the moment introduced herself to him by name. 

Oh hell...WHY NOW? She patted her phone in her pocket, hoping that it would ring really soon. I thought I said no wanderers better show up during my meeting!

[figsposts]

Little loves

This title is inspired from a proposed Chicken Soup for the Soul book title, which I intended submitting to but missed the deadline, so I decided to write the story on this blog ( I may not have the title verbatim).

I enter the bathroom, two, four-year-old girls stop and turn their gaze to me, they don’t speak but watch in awe as I wash my hands. There is nothing special about me, I am just the principal of the Pre-Primary School. They stare at me until I leave the bathroom.

Every morning when I walk past the two to three-year-old classroom, they chant, “It’s Ms. Dlamini, It’s Ms. Dlamini”. They always spot me before their teacher does. She has to quieten them down to focus on their class activity, they will do this as many times as I walk past their classroom. The children at school show me love just because I am me. I haven’t done anything to deserve their love, they hug me, they tell me they love me. They brush close to me like a bunting cat, ask me questions, about my dog, I don’t have a dog.

Sometimes they dare to even slip their hand into mine. They show me their artwork with bright smiles, they want me to come and watch them water the garden during their Young Farmers lesson or watch them play soccer at breaktime.

From my office I have a view of the hall way, they peak at me on the way to class from the toilets, sometimes I engage in a face-off with them, for fun, they win, and I have to tell them to go back to class.

At home time they want to come with me to my house. They are not ordinary children, they are being raised in homes, for orphaned and vulnerable children. I have learnt how I receive their love, teaches them how to love themselves. If I push them away, the message they get is; they’re not worth the time, they’re unwanted, they’re a problem. I am not a psychologist but perhaps these messages are already imbedded in their subconscious minds? After all they are not being raised by their biological parents. If I embrace them. I am teaching them, they are valuable, they are worthy, they are accepted and loved.  

When we talk about unconditional love, we often think about the love parents have for their children. We never consider that children love unconditionally too. A baby loves their parent, they don’t care if you are a drug addict, liar or murderer. The purest love comes from children, our responsibility as adults is to nurture that love, a task never to be taken lightly.

[fitnessgeekandcoffeefreak]

What is it like having your own business? How did you start?

I had been creating cakes/cupcakes for events of friends that I knew for a couple of years. Then I started having inquiries from more people I didn't know. I've been pretty fortunate that my business has pretty much grown from word of mouth. From a legal point of view I felt it was responsible to protect them, and myself, so that's when I decided to pursue a business license. There are a lot of home bakers in the neighboring town that choose not to, but I felt it was the correct thing to do.

Having your own business is basically a rollercoaster 😂 Because everything I create is custom made and specific for each client I rarely create the same design twice. This is really great for my creative side! It's exciting to build a design for clients. You learn so much about so many people. But, when it's just you running your business you have to do all the not-so-fun stuff too. Endless dishes and cleaning, supply runs, deliveries, set-up at venues, bookkeeping, promo designs, social media (the WORST part, I swear), endless messaging, trolls that try to ruin your day, deadlines. . . . The balance can be difficult, but I've tried to build more boundaries and balance in the past year in my business. It's been very helpful! I am constantly seeking out new classes and tips to run my business more efficiently.

[calliedion-dungeon]

𖤓Sore Kisses

Chapter 13. These Vultures

Read on ao3 here

Warnings: MDNI +18 [I fucking mean it] Smoking, Heavy Drinking, Fluff and Angst Swearing, Crossdressing, Adult Content, Eventual Smut, Blonde Mary Goore!! Everyone is a Little Shit in here, later it gets all Soft and Smutty, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Trope, Slow Burn Romance

Summary: After a failed date, you find yourself free to see Mary after weeks without being able to be together, thanks to your new life after the move. A day in this new routine is suffocating, but the sky opens a little to give you a little light, although not in the way you want.

I'll post this one full length since it's nothing but SFW

A couple of weeks have passed after your move, you have been so busy that you have not even had time to feel bad about it with total freedom, you just go from one place to another, from school to work and from work only to sleep at home and repeat. There are times when it seems like Mary only exists on your phone, at least it's not like talking to a bot, they always keep you up to date with the nonsense that Nick and Frank do, their late night thoughts keep you awake when you have a school project to work on. You both always talk about how one day they’ll keep you company until dawn, but you never actually ask them to come, you’re sure you will do anything except do homework with Mary on your side, or so you assume.

You were behind on some deadlines, but you bought time to hand in your work, you were waiting for a colleague who was supposed to help you with some photographs, you needed someone with narrow shoulders and long hair, you have a very specific idea of what you want the scene to be like; after waiting half an hour in the lobby of your school, you call her non-stop to find out where the hell is she, internally praying that she hasn't forgotten about the appointment. After a few calls that she didn't answer, she sends you messages that she is incapacitated due to a hernia on the back, you can't get mad at her for that, it's out of her control, but you still curse your bad luck and resolve to go back home.

Along the way home you smoke two or more cigarettes, bought yourself a drink, frustrated at not being able to make progress on your tasks, you had even asked for a week's vacation at work to be able to do it, for all to come to nothing, you snort as you approach your door looking at the phone, Mary has sent a text in response to your morning message, an eggplant emoji and a lips emoji next to it, classic, especially when your text was “What did you dream about?”

Many times, when you have a little moment to think, you feel kind of bad for having pressured yourself into doing something physical with Mary. Only because you knew you wouldn't have time later, once you left. But you can't keep punishing yourself for something so superfluous, especially when they still show you that they think about you in the most depraved ways you can't imagine.

In a brief message, you tell Mary your annoyance about what happened with your colleague. For what they answer you.

"Does that mean you can come tonight?" they write back.

"Sure, where to?" you respond while eating something and regret smoking that much.

"To the gig??" the text hits you like a train.

You didn't even have time to feel bad for not remembering, of course, the good side of every bad thing, at least now you have the night free to see them, finally. Your heart jumps out of your chest when it finally dawns on you, the path to the bar is blurry in your memory, because you can't wait.

It took a lot of obstacles and time to get to the bar. You couldn't take the subway because it was too late, taking a vehicle made you quite afraid, you were too far away to be able to call someone to give you a ride; you’re sure that something higher must have been taking care of you because you cannot explain how you arrived at the bar safe and sound, nor why you did not bring something with you to defend yourself, even so, it is always better not to have to use them in mind and just exist with ease, so, even if you have to crawl, you’re determined to be there until it’s over.

As you pass through the people of the crowded place, you stop looking for another familiar face other than theirs, suddenly, someone lifts you into the air, you hit enraged whoever dared to take you like a sack of potatoes over their shoulder; it wasn't for long that you recognized the shirt on the back of the person who carried you. When they put you down and you see that it was indeed Mary, you give them a fake slap while you laugh, they were already ready for that and quickly grab your thighs to pick you up again, you gladly jump and wrap your legs on their waist and your arms around their neck.

“Hi-” you tried to say, touching noses, but their lips interrupted your greeting. You're glad to know that not only you were starving for kissing them, their mouth attacked you sloppily, most likely they also tasted what you ate for breakfast by how deep their tongue got, they were being rough but not as in hurtful, as if he had forgotten how to do it more comfortably, Mary seemed too desperate to care.

You giggled when they go lower to your neck, you’re aware that no one was watching the two of you, although not for long because they soon push you against a wall, pressing with his hip, trying to get as close to you as possible.

“Not here-” you hide your face in their shoulder, coyly trying to remember that you’re not alone in the bar.

Without saying anything yet, Mary slowly lowers you from their arms, not without taking advantage of groping every inch of your legs, without letting go of their neck, you hug them sweetly, fondling your fingers on the back of their head.

“I’ve missed you too, beautiful” It feels like you haven't seen each other in months, maybe longer.

"Oh no..." Only then do you begin to notice his beer breath and his damp hair and shirt “Am I late?”

"Just a little, we're done playing, but we were planning to stay here a little longer."

"Mary, I'm sorry, I didn't realize the time, I came as fast as I could, apart from having forgotten..." you regret out loud.

"It doesn't matter, you're here, now." They hold your face, joining your foreheads, then they guide you by taking your hand to where the others are, already deep into their drinks, there was only the bandmates and their friends, Frank wasn’t there.

Thanks to what they had already been drinking, everyone was much more expressive than usual, even the people who didn't know you celebrated your arrival when Mary shouted out to everybody, you saw Nick too busy counting Cami’s molars with his tongue in a stool far from the table and the sight made you laugh, you were way behind them in terms of intoxication, although, the atmosphere is already pretty hazy.

It was definitely a surprise how Mary was so cheerful as you see them stretching out their arm to take a picture of you two, just when you notice and get closer to hug them tighter, they get distracted by a hand that takes theirs, you two turn around, the strange hand does not let go, it caresses Mary’s arm, you both look at a girl who smiles at Mary, said smile fades when she looks at you holding their arm.

"I'm sorry, are you a couple?" asks the girl as she hesitantly lets go off their hand.

"Something like that" you answer very confused.

"Yeah" Mary drawls, it takes them a while to react and they turn to look at you.

"I mean, yeah?" you try to rectify.

"No?" Mary inquires looking at you confused also.

“Let me know when you’re done riding that, then” says the girl at you when she leaves giving you a side eye. Your face contorted at those words.

Despite being sober enough to not be as expressive in how you feel, you couldn't hide your face and your reaction from Mary. They hold your chin, trying to get your attention, but you turn your face away, not sure why you feel humiliated.

The bar was too noisy to be able to think, much less express yourself as you wanted and you can't do it if you don't think first, you give Mary a hand sign that you'll be back in a moment and then head to the bathrooms of the bar, that long hallway in which the two of you had your first kiss, you almost managed to open the door when they pulled on your arm, asking you what was wrong, unfortunately, no words come out of your mouth.

“You know I don’t care about labels.” They whisper, hinting what you got in mind.

“Me neither, but it’s easier to choose one than having to explain”

“We don’t have to explain shit to anyone, we know what’s up, that matters most.” They hold your arms soothing with their fingers along.

“…I guess” your voice came out hoarse, not letting you say more.

“What’s wrong? You having doubts?” you shake your head vehemently “Hey, if somebody asks, we can just say we’re together. Isn’t it enough?”

“Yeah, sorry, I must be tired. I just didn’t like what that woman said…”

“What did she say? I didn’t hear”

“To tell her when I’m done with you, like… as if I’m the one in shift or something like that”

“Why does it bother you? We don’t have to prove anything to anyone…”

“I know that, damnit! it’s just…” You sound upset.

“Just…?”

“It only reminded me that we haven’t even…” you only sighed as if could be understood by that what you mean “And we haven’t because we barely see each other, I know it’s stupid, but if I keep thinking about that… and I don’t want to ruin the night talking about it”

“Hey, listen, nobody is gonna steal me from you, and vultures are everywhere. Don’t let it get under your skin, sweetheart.” They start giving you little kisses on your face, trying to make you smile. “I mean… we could just go, ya know?” they waggle their eyebrows a couple of times.

“Where?” you ask already getting nervous, making your frustration evaporate in seconds.

“Not my place, Frank’s there, snoring like a bear. Is Jenn back?” Mary smirks at you with impure intentions.

“They were supposed to come back today, but very late” you remember with a curious smile.

“So… what do you say? You think we got time?” they stick to your body, searching for your neck with their teeth.

“I don’t know, aren’t you drunk?” You say unsure, because they’re not making that grimace with his mouth that indicates that they’re getting lost.

“Nuh-uh!” Says in a dramatic tone and laughs afterwards.

“Liar, I don’t believe you.” You tease as you drag each other outside the bar without saying goodbye to the others.

…

During the way there was a small struggle between the two of you in the car because they were trying to put their hands in your pants, the idea of the driver seeing you and taking you out of the car made you too nervous. From a distance it might have looked like they were drunk, it was just that Mary was extra playful tonight, tickling you, kissing your neck in the elevator, "picking" a lint off your blouse or "shaking the dust off your pants” and straight up pinching your butt. You made sure to smile, so that the very few people who saw you, wouldn't think badly that this young metalhead with face paint wasn't bothering you and ruin the night.

Mary wouldn't even let you open the door, because their desperation was such that they pushed you against it to kiss you passionately, and honestly, the closer you were to entering the more you stopped caring, it was almost a mistake to turn around while they were still stuck at your neck like a fly sucking, barely without getting your hair out of the way, they were just already grunting softly, giving you goosebumps, with his arms wrapped around your waist pushing you from behind as you turn the key to the apartment to enter.

“Hey guys! Watcha doin’?” Jenn asks cheerfully from the living room, as soon as you get inside the apartment.

“Jenn! Thank goodness you came back, everything alright? How-how was your thing?” you say in a booming voice, barely stopping yourself from screaming, Mary at least you have the decency to halt.

“You mean work? Meh… boring” says your roommate as they eat a bowl of cereal and watching tv.

“Yeah, night shifts suck, am I right?” says Mary awkwardly hiding their crotch behind you.

“Don’t even get me started, I’ll just devour this and go to bed. You staying the night?” Jenn asks regarding Mary.

“Uh… yeah, you know just… sleep” says Mary in a very fake tone, trying to appear sane “Talk about, uh… the geopolitics during the cold war, ouch!” You elbow them on the ribs.

“If it’s ok with you, I know I didn’t tell you in advance, I thought you were staying late at work” you explain a little calmer.

“Alright, just a reminder that I am a very light sleeper.” You can tell Jenn’s comment has several layers to it.

“Don’t worry, I’ll put on some duct tape on her… Ow!” Mary was about to laugh at their own joke until you interrupted with another violent nudge and push them towards your room before they kept talking.

“You crazy kids, goodnight then” Jenn, comprehensive as always, doesn’t meddle much.

“Why don’t you ever shut up?” you tell them as you close the door of your room which is separated from Jenn's room by the kitchen and the living room.

“Why don’t you fucking make me?” says in a flirtatious tone, pulling the hem of your blouse up. In response, you grab them by the chin squeezing their cheeks and kiss them forcefully.

They were moaning because of your bites on their lower lip, you could feel the vibrations of their voice, you guide them towards your bed to sit without removing your lips from them, you tenderly take them by the thighs, they quickly take off your blouse and their shirt. Without giving you a break, they lower their head a little to pull the straps of your bra with their teeth, playing with them a little, both of you giggling. Suddenly you hear them wanting to burp but doesn't, a second later it seems like they’re having trouble breathing, you grab their cheeks, raising their head to ask him if they’re okay, you couldn't do it for a long time because they run off to kneel in your trash can and start vomiting.

“You did lie to me, you’re drunk.” You kneel next to them to brush their hair out of their face.

“I’m sorry, beautiful, I thought I was better than I felt.” They say not facing you yet.

“It’s alright, but don’t ever do that again. Let me help you get up” They didn't really require your help, but either way you wanted to get them cleaned up and forget what happened as quickly as possible, you couldn't help but grumble a little, which they noticed right away, making them feel guilty.

They lament while you accompany them to the bathroom so they can use your mouthwash, they manage to capture your melancholic look in the mirror over the sink while you wipe their face from the paints, shortly after, you get out of there to change your clothes into light pajamas.

“I just wanted to be with you so bad…” Mary whines as they get out of the bathroom, now only wearing their briefs.

“I don’t want it if it’s like this.” You get closer, resting your hands on their shoulders.

“Sorry…” They keep saying. At least Mary lets you guide them to the bed so they can sleep with you, funny enough, you ended up doing what Jenn was told.

“It’s fine, you big moron.” Your voice sounds calmer and happier, you get them to snuggle up with you, carefully you cover them with the blanket.

“Can I get just one little kiss?” Mary says pouting, a face you can't resist, you peck a kiss on their lips, wary that it doesn’t lead to anything else.

In the end you can't say that you're upset, just a little snubbed, but it's not wasted time being with them, the mere fact of being there together is something that at the beginning of the day you didn't have planned, so spending any time with them, especially the entire night is enough to be grateful; you hug their head against your chest and give them a few kisses on the forehead until they slowly fall asleep as they hug tightly your torso.

[rollercoasterwords]

As a fic writer, how do you stay positive and not stress yourself out with constantly comparing?

I've been really struggling with that. I start spiraling when a certain chapter doesn't get as many comments as usual, comparing my hit counts and kudo counts to other fics, and it's really not healthy but I'm struggling with knowing how to stop, how to just be happy and proud of the response I've gotten. Any thoughts or suggestions would be much appreciated.

honestly? i know this might seem counterintuitive but my best advice in that situation is probably to stop posting for a while

like. for me the thing that helped most/still helps most when i find myself falling into the trap of comparison was taking a step back and reevaluating why i wanted to write and what i got out of writing in the first place. like, for me, the core reason i write is for the joy of creating something, and getting to share it with others is all just a bonus. but i haven't always felt that way, and it definitely took a lot of reflection and having to unlearn a lot of social messaging to get there.

i think we are all very much blasted with the message that the most important metric for how worthy art is = how big the audience looking at it is. and i think, because of the way capitalism conditions us to interact w art, it's really really easy to feel like your art is only meaningful if people are seeing it and telling you it's good. like, the focus turns to outside affirmation rather than an interior sense of worth.

but the act of creating art has merit in and of itself. art is worth something because the act of creation is beautiful and joyful, regardless of who sees or doesn't see the final product.

writing fanfiction has helped me find the joy in writing again by removing it from the sort of profit economy that conditions me to think art is only worth something if it can be sold. before i got into writing fic, i felt this sense that creative writing wasn't worth anything unless it was something that i could one day publish which really just stifled me, and it wasn't til i went "fuck it i'm just gonna write something for the fun of it with no plans to ever try and get other people to read it" that i started to really enjoy writing again. and i think that's why i tend to be really wary of anything that starts to treat fic like books or pull fanfic back into this pseudo-profit economy where worth is measured by online popularity/tiktok virality--bc for me, fanfiction is an escape from that sort of mentality.

now, i try to be really vigilant about when i'm starting to fall back into the habit of feeling like my writing is more or less valuable based on whether it gets more or less hits/kudos/comments etc. i think this winter i finally reached a point where writing fic was starting to feel too much like a job w the pressure i was putting on myself to write a certain amount of words or meet certain deadlines, so now i've just been writing without posting anything for like 2ish months and i've found it really helpful! it's good to remember that writing is fun and rewarding even if nobody is seeing it in the moment and there's not that constant feedback loop of affirmation.

and if getting that outside affirmation is a driving factor in why you're writing, and it's draining because it's driving you to constantly compare, then i think it's worth taking a step back and evaluating why you want to write and whether it's like....emotionally sustainable. there's nothing wrong with wanting affirmation and wanting people to see your work, but at least for me anytime i've prioritized outside affirmation it's weakened my own interior sense of worth and made me much more likely to burn out or abandon writing projects. it's difficult bc like i said we are all very much conditioned to prioritize outside affirmation when it comes to art, but for me reframing the way i think about what makes art worth creating in the first place has literally made my writing experience a million times better. so, the most concrete advice i have for giving yourself space to do that is just--stop posting for a bit. stop seeking an audience in any way shape or form. give yourself some time to write by yourself and for yourself, to figure out what about writing brings you joy when there is no outside affirmation and make that the centerpoint of your creative endeavors.

i think there might also be a skin on ao3 that hides kudos and hits and comment numbers, so it might be a good idea to look into that if you're really struggling to stop comparing! also, i highly recommend cj the x's video essays the kronk effect and 7 deadly art sins, as well as jamie berrout's essays against publishing if ur looking to challenge/reframe/expand/adjust the way you think about art + literature :•)

[dreamcatcher-roulette]

I've had your post up in a separate tab for ages, but life 😮‍💨😅

Just wanted to say I appreciate the in-depth response about RAID (and cosmic rays!) and especially the S.M.A.R.T. article - it'll come in handy as I'm quite complacent 😅 about my personal backups (I think my music files have the most "redundancy" via iPods 🤡)

*I dunno if you'll find it interesting, but the OP's schadenfreude in this Reddit post was amusing to me, at least 😅

https://www.reddit.com/r/Netsuite/s/Bxu6bFnrkS

But tbh, even for the outage referenced, 🤡 I would've been more angsty about the potential hours! of productivity lost (i.e. bc users getting anxious about deadlines, etc.) rather than the potential that our data pre-incident would be corrupted or lost.

Anyways, in any case! Thank you for sharing your tangents! I hope you're doing well!

Ahh what a great honour to be a long standing open tab. Funnily enough I started drafting this yesterday and got distracted from it as well. My original response to how I’m doing was going to be “semi patiently waiting for the Dreamcatcher comeback announcement” but since then we got Fromm messages saying probably not until at least June (noooooo) and now I'm also neck deep in ACC, much to my dismay. I have nothing intelligent to say about batteries, they’re complete mysteries to me as well, but they sure do exist. Unfortunately.

Anyway! I do have things to say about backups. Below the cut 😉

The thing about backups is that you can definitely get way deeper than you need to, I think it’s mostly important to be aware and comfortable with your level of risk. The majority of people don’t hold too much irreplaceable data on their personal computers, and the data that does come under that category often fits within free or cheap tiers of cloud backup providers. Before I had my current setup I used to take a less structured approach to backups. I sorted my data into three categories:

Replaceable, which encompasses things like applications and games which can be re-downloaded from the internet (and, if the original download source were no longer available, this would not be a huge deal);

Irreplaceable but not catastrophic, which encompasses things like game saves, half finished software projects, screenshots I've taken etc; and

Irreplaceable and catastrophic, which encompasses things like legal documents but also select few items from category 2 I'm just very personally attached to.

Category 1 items I had on a single hard drive, category 2 items I copied over selectively to a second every now and then when I got struck with a particularly large wave of paranoia, and category 3 items I did the same but with the additional step of scattering them through various cloud providers as well. Now that I have an actual redundant drive setup in a server I have Kopia running on my personal computer to periodically back up everything that isn’t on my SSD, but I still rely on those external cloud providers for offsite backups.

It’s important to note my setup is ultimately designed with hardware reliability engineering in mind but those aren’t the only factors at play when thinking about backups, especially for enterprises. That Reddit thread is hilarious and I can see exactly where both sides are coming from, it’s a common enough disagreement between people of different departments. Senior software engineers tend to be paranoid old bastards who loathe to trust anyone else's code, which is in direct opposition to so many “software as a service” business models these days. But from a business perspective it makes complete sense to always have your own copy of the data as well, even if it isn’t the copy being used. It’s not just loss of productivity (although I agree that’s the most likely extent of any service down time) but often there are legal obligations on keeping records of certain types of work, and, while I’m pretty sure a company could win a court battle to absolve itself of responsibility in the event of a trusted third party being the one to drop the ball, that’s not the kind of argument you even want to risk getting into when there’s such a simple extra safeguard that could be put in place.

My assessment of the risks of my own backup solution of course has a MUCH lower threshold for striking out controls based on cost. I'm a hobbyist after all, this whole thing does not generate money it only takes it. Most notably I don’t have any full offsite backups, which leaves me vulnerable to near total data loss in the unlikely event of a house fire or someone breaking in and just picking up and leaving with the whole lot. The problem with defending against either of these scenarios with a “proper” 3-2-1 backup strategy is that the first server already cost me enough, I don’t want to go investing almost the same amount into a second one to stick somewhere else! And paying any cloud provider to host terabytes is no friendlier on the wallet.

There’s also the issue of airgaps, which is something enterprises need to think about but I do not have any desire to entertain. If a bad actor were to infiltrate my network in such a way that gave them root access to the server hosting all my data I would have no ability to restore from a ransomware attack. Of course this scenario is very unlikely, I’m already doing a lot to mitigate the risk of a cyber attack because running my services securely doesn’t incur additional costs (just additional time, which does mean I haven’t implemented everything possible, just enough to be comfortable there are no glaring holes), but it’s still something I am conscious of when running something which is exposed (in a small way) to the internet. Cybersecurity is also a whole separate but interesting topic that I’m by no means an expert in but enjoy putting into practise (unlike BATTERIES. God. What is wrong with electrical engineers (I say this with love, I work with many of them)).

In conclusion, coming back to how this relates to my dreamcatcher images blog, you can rest assured that my collection of rare recordings is about as safe as my collection of rare albums is, in that, barring a large scale disaster, they should be safe as long as I want to keep them. Which is hopefully going to be a very long time indeed, because I don’t just enjoy the process I also enjoy the content I’m preserving. But the average person probably doesn’t need to put the same level of effort into archiving — Google and Microsoft’s cloud services have much more redundancy than a home setup could ever achieve and can hold all the essentials (like the backup of the Minecraft server on which you met your oldest friends, for example).

[maehemthemisfit]

I really relate to the ask thing, I never really know how to answer an ask/ if I've answered it well enough (even just normal asks) I really don't know if what I said was good enough or sufficient to the person. (what if they don't like what I say? Or what if it's not an answer they wanted.)

I remember a while back I opened an event and got over 30 asks for it in a matter of days. I somehow managed to do 21 asks but after that I was burned out and deleting the asks felt wrong when I was doing it (some of them were really polite or told me how they really liked my blog) but I was burnt out and mental health came first.

It’s just hard to know what to answer, and similarity to you, it gets overwhelming for me too and subsequently a seemingly large task to complete- I still have my into: the woods event asks to complete…

THANK YOU, IM GLAD IM NOT ALONE !!

I got an ask the other day from an anon saying they love when their asks are answered, shout out to all the bloggers who answer asks and I didn't know how to feel because there's so much more to sending/receiving asks that people don't comprehend just how much goes into it and how difficult it can be

explanation utc

Yes I know how good the feeling is when a creator answers your ask/request and I've been on the receiving end of having many of my asks ignored/unanswered or sometimes i find that my ask was answers (ages afterwards) to the point where i forgot I even sent it, but now as a person who gets them frequently, I now understand the struggle.

I love interactions, especially ones where I don't have to think too much about, just simple hi's and hello's and how was your day type of asks

And then there are those asks that I feel like I have to pour my heart into just to answer it, even if I'm not particularly interested or my brain's just not latching onto the idea. We all have different tastes and I get that. And I feel bad when Im active and receive an ask and I don't immediately respond to it. Sometimes I just wanna chill or I simply don't know how to answer it yet. Then there's asks that are copies of previous ones, like they seen I haven't answered it and sent another one again, just urging me even more to complete something like they've given me deadline... i get that tumblr can mess up the sending process but it really feels like they're slapping something in my face showing that I missed it...

And then there are those asks that are too forward or so excited about you answering I just completely deflate at. I just feel even more pressured.

Even when they put (you can ignore this) I still feel sad about it, like I'm letting them down because of my inability to write a response. And then there's the ones who just make requests and completely disregard my rules in my pinned posts and ask for characters I don't even write for or things I don't write. My people pleaser self is fighting to make everyone happy though.

There's also the other ones that makes me uncomfortable to answer or things that I don't want posted on my blog... I used to get a lot of vent asks or unsettling asks that I didn't exactly agree with and when I tried to respond I didn't like how it turned out or how the message was conveyed, I always try to be mindful about what I post considering the people I know who follow me. I still hope the best for whoever's on the other side of the screen

And then there's the repetitive asks that becomes too much where you can't keep up with (and my fear of deleting them just leads to my downfall). The amount of asks I have in my inbox now and before I started deleting them?? You'd be surprised.

I'm glad people like interacting with my blog but I feel like there's a line of boundaries and expectations people seem to fail to realize. I had to learn the hard way that I couldn't please everyone.

From the anxiety and stress, to managing your life and mental health as well? It's a lot to handle. You never know what op is going through, but I feel people expect the best and more from them no matter what. Even when they're asking for free content.

I had to abandon events before because my health just got in the way or I just became overwhelmed with life and my online presence. It starts to feel more like a task than a passion and then you see all these people asking for things from you but then you get little interactions from the content you put out so now you're wondering if what you're doing is a waste. It's really upsetting. I've made so many friends who's deactivated or has long been inactive because of it and I also had my moments where I thought of getting rid of my blog.

Even when responding to mutuals and their asks, it's a challenge. I just hope they bare with me and my pacing, we're trying our best!!

Shout out to the bloggers who try their hardest!!! That every word you type and convey is worth something, even if it lays unsaid. That it's okay to take a break and prioritize your health first, even if you feel like you're letting other people down!

You're not obligated to do anything you can't. If you're not passionate, or if you're uninterested, stressed, or overwhelmed about something you receive, it's okay to let it go. And if you're under stress from external factors that comes with managing your own personal life and wellbeing, just know it's okay to hit delete and it all becomes to much. It's also alright to delete asks you simply don't want to do. It is your blog and your life and in the end, your decision on how you want to go about answering something.

No matter how simple or complex the ask is. It's okay. We're all doing our best.

As for askers, please respect bloggers and their boundaries and don't get upset if your ask goes unanswered. Just like you we have our own lives and variables that effect us. We can't make everything perfect to your liking or be the perfect creator for everyone. We all have beautiful ideas, likes, dislikes, and interests, so please don't attack anyone for their struggles or how they manage their inbox.

Spread the love and support your bloggers!!! We are all trying our best so please bare with us. I hope we can all understand our limits and come to terms with what we can and cannot achieve