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#this is probably the best thing i'll make this year
lot-of-nothing · 1 day
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Entwined
Melissa Schemmenti x Reader
Since your youth, the relationship between Melissa and you has been complicated. In all of your years knowing her, she just can't admit that she isn't as straight as she thinks.
Warnings: Toxic Melissa, smut, and very veiled internalized homophobia
Authors Note: If ya like it, let me know and I'll write more.
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On and off.
That’s how you would describe your relationship with Melissa to your closest friends. They would inevitably roll their eyes and make a face, annoyed with how Melissa had you wrapped around her finger.
It started in high school. She would start dating a new guy, he would leave her unsatisfied in more ways than one, and then she would find those missing pieces of her relationship in you. 
You were best friends after all…. and best friends would do anything for each other, right? 
The first night you spent together was always vivid in your memories. Her green eyes flashing with mischief before she took your hand and pulled it to her thigh. Mel told you how badly she was aching, how it was almost painful. That she needed her best friend to help resolve what her boyfriend couldn’t. 
She knew about your sexual orientation. She knew how hard it was for you to date. When you hesitated, Mel said it was like practicing for when you had a girlfriend. Only if she knew how beautiful you found her to be… that she was only making things harder for you. 
Young and naive, you gladly accepted her offer - desire flooding your senses as soon as she drew your hands to her body. She guided you through every motion and step, telling you exactly what she liked. Like a sponge, you soaked up every word and memorized every fraction of her body. Never wanting to forget a thing. 
Little did you know the knowledge would come in handy again… and again… and again.
“I should probably get going.” Mel breathed as she pushed herself into an upright position. You had been bathing in the afterglow of your sexual dalliance when you must have looked at her too yearningly. She didn’t want you getting too attached.
“I wouldn’t mind if you stayed. It’s no big deal.” You tried to shrug off her wanting to leave so soon. It was best if you played it cool rather than let her know how much you really wanted her after all these years. 
It was clear she didn’t give much thought to your statement. Slipping out from under your sheets, Melissa snatched up her underwear and bra from the floor. She was always in such a rush after you were finished, “I don’t want the neighbors gettin’ the wrong idea.”
That's what she had always told you - ‘I’m not gay.’ 
For years, you always had a biting remark in return. 
‘Yeah. It’s not like you just spent a half hour between my legs or anything.’
“What? Worried they might think you’re gay?” Your words were twinged with venom. Now, rather than wait for her to make the excuse, you threw it back in her face. It always irked you that she could say such a thing to you given all you had experienced with one another. 
“A woman can enjoy the company of women and not be gay.”
You scoffed, unable to contain yourself, “You’re delusional.”
Melissa’s lip curled and her brow furrowed. She always hated when you would get pissy with her, so she decided to snap back at you as she clipped her bra in the back, “I don’t need your shit, okay? I came here for a good time after my shitty date.”
You faked a smile and let the sarcasm drip from your tongue. “Glad to help.”
You knew the relationship wasn’t healthy, but this is how it always went. 
She would call. She would come over. You would fuck. She would want to leave right after. You would get pissed. Then you wouldn’t speak until she wanted back in your bed.
You gathered saliva in your mouth and then pushed your tongue between her folds, drenching Melissa’s sweet cunt in your spit. 
After the last sexual dalliance, you told yourself you wouldn’t end up on your knees for her again. But 45 minutes ago you received a partial nude from the redhead, and she had you reeled back in once more. It was a scandalous picture of her standing in front of her bedroom mirror with her hand between her legs. The caption she sent with the photo was ‘Missing you.’
While it was infuriating she could send a picture at random like that, you were in your car minutes later ready to drive over to her house. 
Your hands gripped behind her knees, keeping a gentle pressure to make sure she was spread wide for you. Her hands were buried in your hair to prevent you from lifting your face away from her swollen heat. But in all honesty, you weren’t planning on going anywhere until she came all over your tongue.
“Oh, fuck!” Mel whined, pushing her hips up to grind against your face. Her enjoyment made you smile, and sadly, a small ounce of hope lingered in the back of your mind that maybe you could fuck her good enough that she would want to be with you.
“Yesyesyesyes… God, you are incredible.” Melissa hissed out, chasing her orgasm through rough bucks of her hips.
You pulled back, fighting against the grip for her hands. You provided her with a singular lick to her cunt and then paused, teasing her, “You want to come?”
“Yes~”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, please.”
“Good girl…” You hummed, pulling away entirely to retrieve the strap. 
She had barely recovered from taking a pseudo-rage filled fucking when she crawled from bed. Her legs wobbled underneath herself as she wrapped herself in a robe, trying to make it clear a third round wouldn’t be an option. “I guess you better be goin’.”
“Sounds good.” You took the hint with grace, choosing to let her statement roll off your back rather than stewing on it. You slipped from the bed, unclasped Melissa’s strap (that she kept around just for you), and tossed the sex toy on the bed. You then proceeded to get ready in silence, not offering anything to Melissa that might display your displeasure. 
The redhead was slowly unnerved by your silence as you zipped up your trousers and pulled your shirt over your head. She stared at her nail beds, trying to start casual conversation, “Gary proposed.” 
You glanced up at her quickly, brow furrowed in angry questioning. While you were not proud of how easily Mel could reel you in, you wouldn’t have come if she was still in a relationship let alone engaged. 
Melissa noticed your incredulous look and finished explaining, “I said no.”
You breathed out a scoff as you tucked your phone in your back pocket and scooped up your sweater off the floor. “That sounds about right.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Melissa was clearly unhappy with your tone, but you refused to glance her way - slightly enraging her further. 
Swiping your wallet and car keys from the bedside table you finally glanced over to where Mel sat on the edge of the bed. It was difficult to tell if she was more angry or embarrassed by your criticism, “I’ve learned the hard way, Mel. You’re hardly one to be tied down by something as trivial as love.”
Melissa was left speechless by your blatant honesty, and she could only stare as you gave her a curt nod, “I’ll see you around.”
She wasn’t gone for a half hour when you received a text from her - ‘Again tomorrow night? ;)’
It immediately forced you to roll your eyes. How you loved and hated that she was like this. One moment she would be so oppositional to any form of attachment, and then the moment someone ‘played hard to get’ with her, she would be fiending for their attention. 
What was worse is that you were no better than her. You replied almost automatically - ‘I am off at 4. Come over whenever.’
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dduane · 2 days
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Apologies if this has been covered before. I vividly remember listening to an mp3 file sometime in the last 20 years of you reading Uptown Local. Is this still a thing I can obtain somewhere? All I can find are dead links.
They had this at the Harcourt website for a good while, preserved from back when the 20th anniversary promotions for So You Want To Be A Wizard were running. But as you say that's long gone since Harcourt (was) pivoted to "education technology" in the wake of the publisher's acquisition by HarperCollins.
...Anyway, I'm rummaging around in the hard drive, as the .mp3 is certainly archived here somewhere. (I'm one of those "Never Gonna Throw It Out, Just Zip It Up And Stash It..." people.) There was apparently a link to it at the YoungWizards.com site when the "Wizcast" podcast was still running, but those links seem to have been disrupted when our longtime ISP FutureQuest suddenly went under and we had to change over to HostDash on short notice.
Leave this with me and I'll dredge it up.
ETA: Consider it dredged. :) I've made a temporary home for it at YW.com while I decide what's the best way, in this day and age, to make it available. (Probably we should have a separate "podcasts and recordings" page. I don't have time for that today, but I'll put it on the to-do list.)
Anyway, it's here:
"Uptown Local:" read by Diane Duane
(Meanwhile, many other interesting .mp3s are turning up. Why the hell do I have this as a ringtone...?) :)
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toomuchracket · 11 hours
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if you're too shy, part 2 (office nerd!matty x reader fluff)
remember those gigs you and matty got scheduled to cover in part 1? yeah. this is them. enjoy <3
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“hey.”
matty's curls bounce as he looks up at you quickly. a mild sense of guilt gnaws at your ribs when you realise you've spooked him, but it dissipates when he smiles, visibly relaxing when he realises it's you breaking him from his concentration. “oh, hi. you alright?”
you nod, gesturing to the vacant desk next to his. “am i ok to sit here?”
“yeah, of course. no need to ask. here, let me,” matty slides his notebook out of your way; as you lay your laptop down and sit, you can see him biting back a beam from the corner of your eye, and your heart flutters. “was there anything you needed, or…? not that there has to be, you know,” he sits up straight, apology settling itself on that gorgeous face of his. “i didn't mean it like that, i just meant-”
“no, i know, matty,” you smile softly. “there is, incidentally, but also i just wanted to sit next to you.”
there he goes with the blushing again - honestly, you reckon you could make a fortune if you bottled and sold the colour of matty's cheeks when you fluster him. although, you suppose, maybe the colour is only appealing because of whose face it's on.
said face is grinning at you again. “well, feel free, anytime.”
“likewise.”
“i'll take you up on that,” matty's smile gets impossibly wider, before he catches himself and controls it a little. “so, what is it that you need from me?”
the sloppiest kiss known to man. “advice, actually,” you put your glasses on, preening internally at the way matty's breath catches in his throat as you do, and open spotify on your laptop. “where should i start with this band we're going to see twice this weekend?”
matty's face brightens even more - impossible, you'd have thought. “oh. well, do you know any of their stuff already?”
you shake your head. “very bad of me as a music journo, but no,” you smile cheekily. “this is my first time. need you to talk me through it.”
the way matty coughs and tries to pass it off as him clearing his throat at your words is delicious. to be fair to him, he recovers quickly, the only sign of him being flustered the way his cheeks periodically twitch into a smile and back down again. “alright, so… i think i’d probably start with their second album - can i?” at your approval, he slides your laptop closer to him and scrolls down the band’s spotify profile to find the album in question. “their first is good, yeah, but the second one is where they really start to define their musical identity…” he trails off, covering his mouth. 
you blink in concern, leaning into him. “you okay, matty?”
“yeah, i just,” he sighs, then giggles into his hand. it’s maybe the best thing you’ve ever heard. “i realised i was starting to sound a bit like patrick bateman.”
“oh my god,” you snort, covering your own mouth as you laugh. “christ, you were. was this band’s early work too new-wave for your tastes and all?”
“little bit. i think their undisputed masterpiece is album two - literally a personal statement about the band itself,” matty smiles, then winces. “that was embarrassing.”
you shrug. “nah, i like that film. and not just because i think christian bale’s fit in it.”
“i was gonna go as him for halloween this year, actually,” matty says, nonchalantly scrolling through spotify again. “would that be weird?”
fuck. matty in a suit? potentially covered in blood? you have to readjust the way you’re sitting at the mere thought. so, naturally - “i think you should do it.”
“yeah?”
“yeah,” you smile, matching matty’s. “i’d enjoy it, at least.”
“that’s all the convincing i need,” he smiles sweetly at you, then gestures to the laptop. “so, d’you wanna know a bit about their influences before you listen?”
“go on, then.”
“alright,” matty shuffles his chair closer to you; you sit up slightly straighter as goosebumps pass over your body, increasing tenfold when he looks directly into your eyes. from this close, his are warmer than you initially realised, and you have to work extremely hard to focus on what he's saying instead of drowning in them. “to be fair, you weren't totally far-off with the new-wave joke - their music is rooted in post-punk subculture, but more along the melodic, jangly-guitar, early eighties type. you know aztec camera, yeah? convinced i saw you wear a high land, hard rain shirt to work once.”
the butterflies nesting in your stomach flutter at his recollection. “yeah, that's right. same vibe as them?”
“kinda. similar to a lot of scottish and northern bands of that era. which is weird, considering they're all about thirty and from fucking newark.”
“i see,” you nod, smiling at the way matty's twirling one of his curls. “any springsteen influence, then? not to stereotype, but… eighties-inspired music by people from new jersey? seems like there could be connection.”
matty nods enthusiastically. “yeah, great question. i mean,” he puffs air through his lips quite adorably. “lyrically, yeah, and they have quite prominent sax parts in some of the songs that are quite e street band. but the inspiration seems to be mostly melodic post-punk. does that all make sense?”
you smile, leaning on your elbow. “yeah. you're very good at explaining things. i like that about you.”
“really?” matty blushes again. “sometimes i worry that i'm just talking shite, to be honest. i know i've got a tendency to ramble a bit, always have. it annoys people, i think.”
“not me. you're always talking about something interesting. makes me feel good to talk to you.”
he clutches his hands into sweater paws again, smiling. “same. you're a sweet one, i think. m'excited that we're working a bit closer now.”
“nobody else i'd do this with, matty,” you hold out your hand, and squeeze his when he lays it atop yours; a perfect fit, you note. “you're my favourite.”
he genuinely looks like he could cry, softly rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand and speaking even softer than that. “likewise, darling.”
for a second, you do nothing but beam at each other, still tentatively holding hands; it's only when your laptop pings with an incoming email that you break out of your reverie and apart. matty clears his throat. “would you like to know which order i recommend listening to the albums in?”
“please.”
he nods. “the second, then the most recent - which is the fifth, by the way. after that, i think i'd probably say… first, third, and fourth last. that one got a bit experimental, i doubt they'll play anything from it at either of the shows. d'you want me to just make a playlist of that order for you, while we're here?”
“oh, yes please,” you watch him do just that, a slight sense of longing settling itself in your bones when you think of a playlist so sorely him settled amidst all your favourite songs; actually, it gives you an idea. “i've got a final question for you, if that's okay, matty. well, technically two.”
“yeah?” he turns to look at you again, eyes disarmingly caring and focused on you.
“what's your absolute favourite song by the band? doesn't have to be the objectively best one, and you don't have to tell me why. m'just curious.”
matty smiles, the sun breaking through clouds. “that's easy,” he scrolls down the new playlist. “this one. that's my favourite.”
“alright,” you drag it to the top of the song list. “then that's the one i'll start with. and then i'll go onto the matty-approved listening order,” pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose, you turn to face him. “that sound alright?”
“mhmm,” matty nods vigorously again, wild hair bouncing all over the place; a curl falls over his eye, and he brushes it away before peering up at you through his enviously-long lashes. “meant what i said earlier, you know. i really do think you're incredibly sweet.”
“thank you,” you all but whisper, doing your best to cover your own blushing. “um - what was i saying?”
he smiles. “you had another question, i think?”
“right, yeah. um,” your throat goes dry with sudden nerves, and you try to swallow as inconspicuous as you can to make it better. twisting your fingers together, you look down at them as you speak. “i've still got a restaurant review to do this weekend, and i was wondering if you, like, wanted to go for dinner before saturday’s show? that italian, near camden road station? and you can say no, of course, no hard feelings, but,” you can feel your cheeks burning as you tentatively look up at him. “i'd just like to hang out with you a little bit longer this weekend. i like spending time with you.”
“oh,” matty breathes, blinking as if he can’t quite believe he isn’t dreaming - you hope that’s the reason, at least. he bites his lip, cheeks rosy as he looks up at you with a smile, and nods. “yeah, i’d love that. thank you.”
“thank you, for agreeing,” you exhale, nerves replaced by tingling excitement. “is half four too early? that would give us time to eat, and walk to the roundhouse before doors, yeah?”
“that works for me,” matty nods. he twirls his hair again. “d’you want to just meet at the restaurant? cos that’s the station i’d get off at, camden road. but i don’t mind meeting you off the tube, if you like.”
“no, no, it’s alright. i’ll just get you there - i’m not gonna make you brave the high street when you don’t need to,” you giggle. “especially on a saturday afternoon, christ.”
he huffs out a laugh, but his eyes are tender - so is his voice, when he replies. “alright. i’d do it for you, though, no complaints.”
you believe him. you aren’t sure if you’ve ever seen someone look so sweetly sincere, and it’s fucking your brain up. big-time.
still, you hold it together long enough to reply. “you’re cute, healy, even if i think you’re a bit mad for offering to walk through camden just to get me,” you giggle at the way his jaw drops at the compliment. “you can get me at angel on friday, though, if you fancy? makes sense, if you’re already walking down from highbury.”
“i’ll be there at six,” matty smiles. “i’m excited to hear what you think of the band, you know. i think you’ll like them.”
“well, if you do, then i’m sure i will. you’ve got good taste,” you gather up your laptop and stand, turning to matty with a flirty grin. “speaking of - i like that jumper. you look hot in red, matty. really hot. anyway,” you bite back a grin at the little gasp he lets out. “thanks for all your help, lovely.”
“anytime!” he calls after you when you turn to walk away, deliberately swinging your hips slightly more than usual - you’re convinced you hear a muffled “fuck” before he speaks properly. “and, um, thanks for, y’know, liking my jumper.”
you look over your shoulder and wink, happiness bubbling through your body when you notice matty shifting his gaze from your ass to your face so hastily it’s a wonder his neck didn’t snap. “friday at six, yeah? don’t be late.”
“i won’t!”
and he’s true to his word - when you come up the escalators at angel station at five minutes to six on friday, matty’s leaning against the wall opposite you. he grins, a big toothy eye-crinkling smile that has your heart doing backflips, and waves as you walk over to him. “hi! i like your jacket.”
“oh, thank you,” you self-consciously touch the fluffy collar. “have you been waiting long?”
“not really. ten minutes?”
“that’s not too bad. shall we?” you wander out into the chilly evening air, matty matching pace beside you. “you ever been to a show here before?”
“yeah. what a fucking weird venue,” matty steps closer to you to avoid being run over by a bike, and your heart flutters; you’re actually sad when he moves away. “i like it inside, but-”
“the fact it’s literally in the middle of a shopping centre is insane?”
“completely mental.”
“a really strange bit of urban planning,” you smile, turning to him as you wait at a set of traffic lights. “i listened to the playlist you made me, by the way. even learned some of the words.”
matty laughs. “you like them, then? that’s good. knew you would, though.”
you nod, fighting the urge to grab his hand as you cross the road. “played your favourite song about ten times on loop. i had no idea it was going to end up being a love song, by the way…”
“yeah, the title’s a bit misleading.”
“...but it really works. i can see why it’s your favourite,” you gently nudge your shoulder into his arm. “like i said the other day, you’ve got good taste.”
he looks down at the pavement, smiling, then at you. fuck, he’s so cute. “so do you, darling,” he says, voice so soft you can hardly hear it over the bustle around you. “i really like your outfit.”
the hour spent upending your entire wardrobe onto your bed to pick it out was absolutely worth it. “thank you. i figured, y’know, since i’m technically not working,” you smirk at him. “i’d make the effort for going out. tomorrow, though, when i’m on-shift? not a chance.”
“you’ll still look great, i reckon,” matty says, easy as breathing; ironically, the ease of his words practically stops your own breath. “and yeah, i s’pose you really aren’t working tonight. when was the last time you went to a gig just for fun?”
“it’s been a while,” you admit. “and i miss it, actually, getting to just experience new artists without having to analyse and critique them. that’s part of the reason i’m excited to be going tonight.”
“i get that,” matty nods as you turn into the venue entrance. “and what’s the other part?”
you grin. “the fact i’m going with you.”
once again, matty blushes. “if you keep throwing me off with compliments the whole night, i literally won’t get any work done. but thank you. m’glad you agreed to come with me tonight.”
“i’m glad you asked,” you turn to him once you join the line to get in. “and you’ll get your work done, don’t worry. i promise to be good.”
for the most part, you actually succeed at that, and it’s largely due to how bloody good the band are. for all the venue is in a weird place, it really is a decent one - it’s so intimate that even you, who only started listening to the artists onstage this week, feel like a proper part of it. and, free of note-taking responsibilities, you can allow yourself to be made giddy by the coloured lights and loud melodies, to dance as best you can on the sticky floor, to sing along to the scraps of lyrics you recognise and join in the backing vocals with the rest of the crowd. that was always your favourite part of a concert, the moments where hundreds of voices just worked as one, identities dropping and merging to prioritise the music; it’s nice to be in it, for once, rather than doing your best to observe and capture and convey it in words. you leave that to matty, and mostly leave him be aside from the odd smile and laugh, always responded to warmly by him.
that is, until they play his favourite song, and the boy beside you becomes impossible to ignore.
the singer says something about this being the last song of the night, before beginning the now-familiar melody on his guitar. matty’s head snaps up at the first few notes, and his notebook snaps shut; you turn to him at the noise, smiling at the excitement on his face, even more radiant than usual under the pink lighting. he looks at you with a matching smile, curls bouncing as he nods along to the music, before turning back rapt towards the stage. you follow suit, soaking up the lyrics about wanting and yearning and falling fast for someone - hearing those words with that person beside you sends goosebumps shooting across your skin and sparks through your nervous system, the same kind of kinetic energy crackling in the space between you and matty. it’s so strong you have to uncross your arms, stretching your fingers out by your side. mortifyingly, they brush against the back of matty’s hand, and the sparks become shockwaves; not so much born out of fear, but of the same kind of longing the singer is musing about. he doesn’t seem to mind the contact, hand staying put despite it, and something in your brain just says fuck it and snaps.
tentatively, more so than you think you’ve ever been before, you loop your fingers around matty’s, and you hold his hand. and, quite honestly, nothing has ever felt quite so right as this. the shockwaves in your nervous system fade to a gentle hum, kinda like the reverb from the speakers, with only a tiny jolt when matty gently squeezes your hand in response.that’s how you stay for the rest of the song, hand-in-hand facing the stage, both of you - unbeknownst to the other - smiling contentedly and mouthing the lyrics to the song you relate to.
it lasts a sickeningly short amount of time, though - as soon as the song ends, you and matty are all but pulled apart by a group of kids running towards the stage, shouting about setlists and drumsticks and god knows what else. matty chuckles, walking backwards towards the exit so he can talk to you. "that was good.”
“yeah,” you agree, although you’re not sure what he’s specifically referring to. “liked it a lot.”
“me too.”
there’s comfortable silence as you weave your way out of the venue and onto the street. you turn to say a reluctant goodbye to matty, but he beats you to it. “i’ll walk you to the station.”
“are you sure? you’ve got a bit of a walk in the other direction, matty.”
he shrugs. “it’s a nice night. i don’t mind.”
“cool,” you do your best to keep from smiling at the thought of an extra five minutes with him. “thank you.”
“s'alright,” matty smiles, leading the way down the street. “i've had a lot of fun tonight.”
“yeah, same here. they're really good!”
“aren't they? i'm excited to see their set tomorrow, see how it compares,” he hums happily. “i think this is gonna turn out to be a really good article, you know.”
“so do i,” you beam at him. “and i must say, i'm enjoying the process for this one much more than i have in a while.”
he giggles, and you have to fight the urge to hold his hand again. “well, if you think about it,” matty rubs his thumb over his bottom lip quite attractively. “it makes a lot more sense for us to do gig reviews together. music is something to be shared, after all, and live music especially, and so are our reviews - we probably get a better sense of it all if we're not by ourselves, don't you think?”
you don't even bother trying to hide how enamoured you are when you look at him. “i love the way your brain works, matty.”
“oh, shush,” he clutches the sleeves of his jacket over his hands, but beams anyway; it drops from his face when he notices the tube station sign up ahead. “well, i suppose this is where i leave you.”
the melancholia in his voice makes your heart sink. “yeah, i guess,” you sigh. “but not for long, though.”
“true,” matty's face brightens, and he reaches to take your hand and squeeze it gently. “thanks for coming, darling. i had a lot of fun.”
“thank you for having me,” you squeeze his hand in return, smiling at the way he looks down at your connected fingers in wonder. “text me when you get home?”
“of course. you too, please.”
“i will,” you let go of matty, pausing before you turn to walk away; quicker than your brain can convince you otherwise, you lean up to press a kiss to his soft cheek, before winking at his dazed expression and turning towards the station. “see you tomorrow, lovely.”
“bye,” comes the soft, delayed reply. you turn back to wave once you reach the escalator, then smile giddily to yourself the whole way home.
in fact, you don't think you stop smiling giddily for the rest of the night, or the next day; just the knowledge that you're going to see matty again keeps you in a state of sunniness, has you dancing around the flat and serenading your dog, who just looks at you like you're insane. a tiny part of your brain agrees with her, but how can you be expected to help it? you haven't been this excited to go on a date with someone in a long, long time.
well, it's not a date, officially. but walking into a dimly-lit italian restaurant with matty in tow, him taking your jacket and pulling your chair out for you like a perfect gentleman? it fucking feels like it. you wish it was.
even more so when he takes his own jacket off, revealing A) a short-sleeved shirt in the same colour of red you told him he looked hot in the other day, worn slightly open over a white tank; B) almost-unbelievably muscular arms; C) tattoos littered up said arms, and one on his chest just peeking out suggestively.
jesus fucking christ.
you can’t help but stare at matty, mouth agape, as he sits down. he giggles nervously when he notices. “what?”
the words leave your mouth before you can even think about stopping them. “matty… do you know how hot you are?”
he does the adorable blinking thing again. “you think i’m hot? me?”
“um, yeah, i have eyes,” you giggle, cheeks burning. keep it together, you stupid slut. “i didn’t know you had all those tattoos, actually. why don’t you show them off more?”
matty shrugs. “sometimes, people think if you have lots of tattoos, you’re like, i don’t know… scary, or unapproachable,” he opens the drinks menu. “that’s not the impression i wanna give off, you know? especially at work. like, you know me, i’m quite soft and quiet. i just think the tattoos look sick.”
god, you want to eat him alive.
“i understand,” you nod, leaning on your elbows. “and i also think they look sick. kinda sexy, i’d say, to be honest. anyway,” you bite back a smirk at matty’s flustered expression. “what sort of drink are you in the mood for?”
“oh, well… i don’t know, actually,” matty scans the menu, then meets your eyes. “i’m new to this sort of reviewing. what do you usually do first? talk me through it,” he must mistake your wide eyes after his last statement for horror, instead of slight arousal. “please.”
“okay. can i see the menu, please? right, fab, thanks,” you hold it open so you can both see the drinks list. “shit, this is extensive… reasonably priced, would you say?”
“for this part of london? yeah.”
“i agree. right,” you look at him, and the concentration with which he looks back almost throws you off. “because we haven’t picked out food and don’t know about flavour palettes yet, i’d avoid wine for the time being. anything too flavoured, actually - i reckon our best bets are either some sort of fairly neutral cocktail, or a spirit and clear mixer. you know, vodka soda, a g&t, that kind of thing.”
matty nods. “makes sense.”
“yeah. the exception to all of that, in my opinion, is champagne,” you smile. “but if i start drinking it, i won’t want to stop, and if i kick the arse out of this meal on the work credit card then marianne will kick mine, so…”
he laughs, and the warmth of it goes straight to your stomach. “classy girl,” he smiles, laughing even harder when you make a face. “well, i think you are. and,” he points at the menu. “i also think we should have negronis.”
“nice. alright, let’s move on to food,” you open another menu. “oh, thank god we came here so early - this decision might take me a while. sorry.”
matty smiles, the tenderness in his eyes only exacerbated by the flickering candlelight. “that’s alright, darling. we’ll take all the time you need. well,” he winces. “maybe keep it within the two and a half hours we’ve got until we need to leave for the gig. although i s’pose we could stay here another fifteen minutes if we got a taxi.”
you wave insouciantly. “we’ll be on time. and you’ll have fun, too. promise.”
“oh, i don’t doubt that.”
and you really do have fun, despite having to constantly remind yourself that you’re not on a date and are in fact at work. the two negronis you each have over the course of the meal continue to coax matty out of his shell - and thus, get you to fall even harder for him than you already have, which to be honest you didn’t think was possible after seeing his tattoos - to the point where he’s affectionately taking the piss out of you for stealing forkfuls of his dinner “for journalistic purposes”. but, all in all, he’s completely fascinated by the process of forming your review, taking interest in the subtleties of what makes somewhere good versus great, and marvelling at the breadth of your culinary knowledge (which you’re actually very proud of, being self-taught and all); he’s still raving about it as you walk - with plenty of time to spare, mind you - along chalk farm road towards the roundhouse. “i actually don’t know what i’m more impressed with, you or the food. genuinely. you’re incredible. and to think i was going to make you soup!”
you frown. “past tense? why?”
“you know too much about food. i won’t be able to impress you.”
“matty,” you turn to look at him, wide-eyed and crestfallen. “that’s not true at all!”
he scoffs, but not harshly. “come on, babe,” the nickname does something funny to your stomach. “i’m not upset about it, just thinking realistically. how is my nana’s carrot and coriander recipe gonna stack up against michelin-starred minestrone, or whatever? not at all, that’s how. and that’s alright!”
“matty. matty - alright, fine,” you clear your throat, stopping and standing with your hands on your hips. “matthew. listen to me, and listen good, yeah? right,” when he nods, blinking those pretty eyes, you continue. “soup is a whole different thing - in fact, all domestic cooking is, especially if you’re making something for someone you care about. i don’t want to be impressed by the technique, i want to be nourished. cared for. dare i say, healed. and, in that regard, i have no doubt that your nana’s recipe would fucking decimate any posh restaurant soup. alright?”
he nods, shyly peeking through his eyelashes. “alright.”
“thank you.”
the walk continues, silent for a few minutes until matty talks again. “you know,” he says, smile audible in his voice. “i didn’t think i’d find being lectured about soup sexy. and yet…”
“oh my god, stop it,” you giggle, although you’re simultaneously fighting the urge to skip along the path and secretly filing that piece of matty information away in your mind. just in case. “thanks, though.”
he shrugs, smirking. you’re into it. “just telling the truth. it’s my job, after all.”
“and here i thought you were flirting with me,” you smirk back. “shame,” you wink, speeding up slightly towards the venue; you drop into serious mode when you see several different door queues. “shit. where do we go, with the press passes?”
matty hums, looking around. suddenly, he takes your hand, gently leading you to a side door; you’re quite content with this, a sort-of fuzzy feeling overcoming you, so much so that you barely register him talking. “here we are. you ready, darling?”
you nod happily at him. “round two. let’s go.”
the night, at first, progresses a lot like the previous one - you spend the opening set dancing, singing along to the songs you know pretty well by now, leaning in to talk to matty about any discrepancies you see in performance between both nights while he diligently takes notes. when they close with his favourite song, again, you’re slightly dismayed that he continues to write, and you can’t repeat the hand-holding; pretty much as soon as you’ve thought that, though, matty leans into you to rest his head on yours and sing along to the lyrics, and the room seems to get brighter. out of both desire and necessity (you know how clumsy he is), you wrap an arm around matty’s waist, and you swear you can hear him smile. it’s warm, sweet, intimate without being weird, and you really don’t want to let go of him. ever.
eventually, once the song ends and the house lights come up in the break between sets, you do, pulling your notebook from your jacket pocket with a sigh. matty straightens up, stretches with a groan that should not be as attractive as it was to you, and smiles. “pasta tiredness hitting you too?”
“little bit,” you wince. “maybe dinner then dancing was a bad idea.”
he shakes his head. “nah. it’s been fun. i’ve really enjoyed it.”
“i’m glad to hear that,” you smile at him. “wouldn’t mind making a habit of it, actually.”
“really?” matty beams. “neither would i. maybe we can pitch it to marianne as an actual segment. like, restaurant pairings with gigs, potentially highlight local places near the venues we go to. yeah?”
it’s a fucking great idea. he goes all bashful when you tell him as much. “cool. we can maybe see her about it on monday, if she’s in.”
you nod. “of course. come and find me on monday morning, and we can come up with a proper pitch while we get this piece done, alright?”
“‘course,” matty nods, smiling when the lights drop and the audience scream. “right, i’ll leave you to your notes.”
“cheers,” you reply, reluctantly turning towards the stage. it isn’t that the gig is bad, at all - as you wrote in your notes, the band are talented, charismatic, well-rehearsed. it’s just extremely difficult to focus on them and your notebook when you have the boy of your dreams beside you, close enough to touch and kiss and dance with, singing along happily and doing a dorky little two-step that makes his hair bounce quite beautifully. every so often, the urge to turn and smile at him becomes too much to resist, and matty goes visibly - adorably - pink under the stark white lighting every single time he makes eye contact with you.
by the time the gig ends, you’re dead certain: you are down so incredibly deeply bad for matty healy, and you need to tell him as soon as possible.
as it turns out, the opportunity for that happens extremely quickly once you’re both out of the venue, talking and laughing and dissecting the show even further than you did in your respective notebooks as you leave, and it’s so romance-media smooth that you genuinely think a higher power might be involved. perhaps an apology from the universe by having a group of teenagers push you and matty apart at yesterday’s gig, this time a group of them push you closer together, bolting past you and screaming about catching the bus home - matty tugs you into him to stop you being completely bowled over, and turns so the two of you are right next to the building instead of in the firing line out in the open. his hands are warm against your waist and lower back, and so is his neck under your clasped hands; you have no recollection of putting them there, but you sure as shit aren’t going to move them anytime soon. if you did that, you’d further the distance between you, and why on earth would you want to do that, when you’re so close you can’t tell whose breath cloud is whose and the little flecks of gold in his dark eyes are visible to you for the first time?
no. you’ll stay as you are, thank you very much.
“you know that thing we were going to pitch to marianne at work on monday?” you whisper, heart pounding as you notice matty’s eyes flick to your lips. “the thing we want to make a habit of?”
“yeah,” matty breathes, the words so close to your lips you can practically taste them. “what about it?”
your lips part, and you take a shaky breath before you reply. “well, the thing is,” you bite your lip, and his pupils dilate. “i don’t think i want it to be a work thing, matty.”
a beat passes before he responds. “neither do i.”
thank fuck.
your eyes close in contentment. “matty?”
“yeah, darling?”
you reopen them, looking up at him - for the probably millionth time in two days, you don’t bother trying to hide the feeling in your gaze. “kiss me.”
that gorgeous face above yours cracks into a smile. “alright.”
and he does.
it’s exactly how you imagined he would be - a little bit sloppy, tentative with tongue, but so eager and giggly and just so caring that it doesn’t matter. on instinct, your hand roots itself in matty’s curls, and the little whine he lets out is probably enough to fuel your bedtime fantasies for a fortnight by itself. you smile into him, tracing your tongue around his lips before sucking on the bottom one and releasing it slowly. your head is spinning, from matty more than lack of oxygen, and you honestly don’t think you’ve ever been happier post-kiss in your life.
there’s a happy silence for a minute, save the two of you gasping for breath, broken by matty kissing you quickly again and grinning. “hi. and, also, wow.”
“indeed,” you beam up at him, gently twisting those pretty curls around your fingers. “you might’ve figured it out by now, but… i like you, in a more-than-platonic sense.”
“the kiss gave it away, yeah,” he giggles breathily. “i take it there’s no policy at work about making out with your colleagues? or, y’know, taking them out on actual, unrelated-to-work dates?”
“no such thing.”
matty smiles, pulling you in for another kiss. “well, thank christ for that.”
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Magic Man
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Summary: Elvis breaks in a virgin. Word count: ~2,200 words of pure, unadulterated smut inspired by this post. This is purely a work of fiction, and from what I have read of how Elvis actually treated his lovers in real life, is probably a lot less tender and loving than the actual Elvis would have been. But it's make believe and fun, so enjoy it! Warnings: 20 year age gap, dubious consent at some points, full intercourse, course language. Somewhat callous treatment of Elvis' taste for younger women.
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His bedroom is a gilded cage, dripping with excess and the stench of hedonism. Elvis's entourage has left them alone, finally, after weeks of teasing glances and knowing winks. Tonight, it’s just him and his prey—sweet little Molly van Patton. All night, she’s tried to resist, but his primal aura is too strong to deny. He’s charming. Dangerous. A seasoned, world-famous rock star. And she's just a 19-year-old innocent, trembling on the edge of womanhood. Just like he likes ‘em.
Their meeting felt like some sort of strange, cosmic joke. She wasn’t a fan, hadn’t even intended to go see his show. But her best friend convinced her, one thing led to another, and now here she is, somehow lying in his colossal bed like a tiny helpless creature, her presence filling him with a burning desire to crush and destroy.
Now, he traces his lips down her neck, pausing to nuzzle at the hollow of her collarbone. Sweetly at first, then more insistently as she drags long, jagged breaths. Molly can’t help but gasp under the full weight of him, her body opening up in ways she’s never experienced before. It’s heady and intoxicating and dangerous and delicious and—
Oh. Oh. 
Each touch sets off an electric current, making her arch closer. She runs her fingers through the thick hair on his chest, feeling the cool metal of his gold lion's head medallion pressed against her own breasts. But as he reaches for her waistband, she hesitates.
“Stop,” Molly trembles. Heat flushes her cheeks. "I’m not… I don’t…"
Elvis nuzzles her neck. His hand is dangerously close to unzipping her skirt. He’s in a taking mood tonight.
“Please,” she pleads. “Won’t they know what we’re doing in here?”
Elvis chuckles, a low, deep rumbling sound that vibrates through her very bones. “Baby, they don’t care. They’re probably already placing bets on how long you’ll last.”
Molly's heart plummets into her stomach. Of course they knew. All those knowing glances and hushed whispers, they’d known all along. Her face flushes and it's all she can do to grab her things and run.
But Elvis doesn't give her time to process this newfound knowledge. His insistent lips find her earlobe, nibbling it lightly as he whispers lewd suggestions she can't comprehend but her body understands. Against her better judgment, heat pools between her legs, and she bites back a moan of desire. 
"Just one more," Elvis purrs, his voice thick with want, sending shivers down Molly's spine. "One more’n I'll stop.”
But one more turns into two, and then three, and before she knows it, she’s powerless under him. She feebly attempts to push him away, but his strong arms grasp her tighter. His grip is firm but not quite enough to leave bruises. Not yet at least. But she knows it’s coming. Braces for it. His lips find her neck again.
The heat between her thighs grows unbearable, and she clenches them together, as if that could stop the freight train that is Elvis Presley. As if it could cool the fire raging through her veins. She’s never felt so alive, so free, so needed and… so scared, as she does tonight in his arms. But as he inches lower, kiss by agonizing kiss awakening something primal inside her, Molly panics.
This is really happening.
She’s about to give herself to a man she barely knows, a man nearly twenty years her senior. One who could crush her like a fly if he wanted to. Her heart kicks into overdrive, adrenaline coursing as she manages to shove him off. 
“No!” she cries out, the word catching in her throat. Molly’s outburst gives Elvis pause. Hurt and confusion flash across his face as he pulls back, propping himself up on one elbow. 
“What is it?” his voice is gruff but not unkind.
Molly turns her face away, cheeks flaming. How can she tell him? That despite her adventurous friend and all the talk, she's never actually… that he would be her first. 
Elvis regards her steadily. Impossibly long black lashes curtain the genuine concern in his eyes. Molly's pulse throbs in her ears. 
"Please don't make me say it," she whispers finally. Molly squeezes her eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall. But a single drop escapes, trailing down her cheek. 
"I'm sorry," she whispers. "It's just… I've never…"
Understanding dawns on Elvis' face. He brushes the tear from her face with surprising tenderness. 
"Never been with a man before?" he asks gently. 
Molly shakes her head, a furious blush creeping up her neck. She expects anger, derision, rejection. For him to throw her out and call for the next girl. 
But instead, Elvis tips her chin up to look at him. "Oh honey," he murmurs. "Why didn't you tell me?" 
Molly's breath catches in her throat as Elvis regards her with unexpected tenderness. His hands, which moments before seemed so insistent, now caress her face and arms with featherlight touches. 
"I was afraid you wouldn't want me anymore," she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper.
Elvis shakes his head, a sad smile on his lips. "Oh darlin', that don't matter one bit to me. I want you, Molly girl. I want to make you feel real good." 
He drags his thumb over her bottom lip and Molly shivers. She knows she should leave, should find Doreen and book it out of there before she does something reckless. But the way Elvis is looking at her, like she's the only woman in the world… it makes her feel powerful. Desired. Dangerous.
She... likes it?
"Just relax and lemme take care of you," Elvis murmurs, his breath hot against her ear. With that, the last of her resolve melts. 
His hands, knowing and sure, explore her curves, leaving trails of fire in their wake. She moans, melting into him, her body betraying her. She's scared, yes, but she's also aching for more. He senses her hesitation, easing her back even further, parting her thighs with a tenderness belied by the impressive size of his hands. His eyes are hungry, admiring the perfect, trembling creature before him. 
"You're so beautiful," he breathes, running a calloused finger along her jawline. His words were like sweet poison, both thrilling and terrifying. "Shh, baby," he coos, "I gotcha."
He kisses her, his lips firm yet gentle, as if he can taste her innocence. Her first kiss, her first everything, all with him. She was born for him.
*
His lips trail down her breasts, leaving a path of fire in their wake. Molly arches into the sensation, the soft scratch of his stubble against her skin. His hand slides down to her stomach, fingertips tracing the sensitive flesh just below her belly button. 
"Do you want me to stop?" he asks hoarsely. She shakes her head, unable to form words. "Say it, Molly girl." He presses a kiss to her hip bone, nipping lightly at it. 
"No," she gasps. "Don't stop."
He smiles against her skin. "Good girl," he purrs before lowering his mouth to where she's aching for him most.
His tongue flicks forward, teasing her entrance and Molly cries out, her fingers curling into the silk sheets. She looks down at him—somewhere down there—through one open eye.
"Is that what... are you supposed to be—"
Before she can finish her sentence, his hands grip her thighs. Fear and desire battle within her, but desire wins out as curious pecks and licks turn into long, languid strokes. Bracing himself, Elvis feasts on her, like she's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. She finally opens her eyes and there he is in all his glory: lapping at her, coaxing the desire out of her body and onto his waiting tongue. Wave after wave of pleasure courses through her. "Oh God," she whuffs out, her head thrown back in ecstasy. 
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice wonders what everyone else must be thinking. But then Elvis's tongue buries itself deep within again, soft and wet, and all thoughts vanish into thin air. His hands grip the soft flesh of her hips, guiding her closer to him as he laps at her vulnerable center. She's never felt anything like this before, the pleasure so unbearable it hurts. 
"That's it, baby," he growls into her glistening pussy, "ride it out."
And she does. His tongue flicks and swirls, plunging inside her, mimicking what she imagines is his impressive length. 
By now, the whole house must hear her moans, but she doesn’t care. She’s coming undone whether she wants to or not, and she’s never felt more alive.
“Oh, Elvis,” she moans, her voice high and desperate, “Oh, I—”
Molly van Patton shudders and bucks against him, her first ever orgasm coursing through her body like wildfire. He doesn't stop though, not until she's sobbing and spent, her juices coating his face. He looks up at her through hooded lids, a satisfied smirk on his full lips.
“I ain’t done with you yet.”
*
He moves up her body, his manhood hard and throbbing against her thigh. Her entrance flutters in anticipation, and Elvis smiles at the sight. He positions himself there, large and intimidating. 
“Relax, li’l girl,” he whispers in her ear. “I’ll be real gentle.” Molly looks up at him, eyes wide, pleading. 
“You sure you want this?”
She nods dutifully.
“Say it f’me, now.” 
“I want you inside me.”
That’s all he needs. Before she can take it back, he slides in an inch, and then another. He’s so big, stretching her so wide she’s certain she’ll split in half. Certain he'll pierce her and she'll never be the same again. Tears leak from her eyes, mixing with the mascara from earlier.
“Shh,” he soothes, “I got you.” His accent is thicker than usual, sweet like molasses. Slowly, bit by excruciating bit, Elvis works himself inside her tight heat. Molly bites her lip to stifle a moan, but it escapes anyway.
At that, Elvis groans, and then he’s entering her more and more until he bottoms out. He's still for a moment, ensuring she can truly take in all of his length. “Tell me how it feels,” he grunts, as he slowly picks up speed.
“It hurts,” she pants out. But it’s a delectable sort of hurt. He’s filling her up in ways she never thought possible. Each thrust has her teeth bitting his shoulder tighter.
“I know, baby,” he coos into her ear, “but it gets better, I promise.”
And somehow, it does. The pain eases and is replaced with a delicious ache that has her hips rocking towards his.. Heat pools in her belly as he claims her with every thrust, like she was made for him and only him.
“You’re so tight,” he moans. “Made for me.”
It’s a mantra, a vow, as a he pistons in and out, breaking her in with every stroke. Her climax from before was nothing compared to this. She’s soon whimpering, clawing at his back, an evil sob stuck in her throat. 
"That's it, baby," he pants, "give it all to me."
Elvis pulls out swiftly, leaving Molly empty and aching. In one smooth motion, he flips her over onto her stomach. 
"On your knees," he commands.
Molly whimpers but obeys, presenting herself to him on all fours. Elvis groans at the sight, gripping her hips tightly. 
He enters her from behind in one powerful thrust. Molly cries out, the new angle allowing him to penetrate her even deeper. Elvis sets a ruthless pace, pounding into her relentlessly.
The sound of slapping flesh fills the air as he claims her, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave bruises. He hits a spot deep inside that has Molly seeing stars. She pushes her hips back to meet his brutal thrusts, unable to get enough.
"That's right, take it," Elvis growls. His breathing is labored in her ear, hot and ragged. Sweat beads on his brow, dripping onto her shoulder blades, but he doesn’t relent. “You’re taking me so good. You love it, don’t you?”
She does. Oh, God, does she ever. Fuck it. If this was wrong, she didn’t want to be right. 
He keeps pounding into her, and it's dizzying and intoxicating all at once. The room spins as she clings to the headboard for dear life, his name a curse on her lips, a talisman against the building pleasure-pain coiling in her core. His pace quickens, hot breath on her neck, and his thick chest hair tickling her back.
“El… vis…” she mewls. “Right there!”
He obliges, his expert hands massaging her swollen clit as he pounds into her from behind. 
“Yeah, just like that,” he rasps as Molly bucks against him, working the length of his cock with her slick and pushing her hips back to meet his brutal thrusts, unable to get enough. It shocks him how quickly she took to his cock. Elvis’ fingers dig almost painfully into her hips, urging her on. “That’s right, take what you need.” 
"Elvis, I..."
The pressure builds, coiling in her belly like a spring. “That’s my girl, let it go,” he growls in her ear, and that’s all it takes.
Her body explodes into a million stars, tightening around him as she screams her release. Just like that, it hits her all at once—from heaven and hell itself, crashing over her like a tidal wave and even more powerful than the first. Colors dance behind her eyelids. 
Elvis’ nails dig into her back, and she can feel the delicious sting as they break the skin. “Unnngh,” he grunts, “I’m fuckin’ close.” The filthy words spur her on, and she clenches around him, the fluttering of her walls easing up, and suddenly she’s slowly floating back to earth and back to life and back to his gigantic bed in his gigantic mansion in Memphis, Tennessee. She can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but feel.
He growls and buries himself even deeper, his thrusts erratic and desperate now. Harder and harder until he, too, splinters apart, shattering inside her like stained glass. He grunts, his release warm and sticky deep inside her.
Later, Elvis cocoons Molly in his strong arms and starts to rock her gently. As she drifts off to sleep, she knows there's no going back.
She's his now, body and soul. That’s the price she paid for giving in to her darkest desire.
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cuteskunkz · 2 days
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For those who wanted a sneak peak at the Mike x Stripper reader fic!!! It'll be set in the current day having use of iPhones/social media :O I'm like,, not even half way through so things might change but here y'all go!!
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Mike is a very touch starved man. He spends all his nights at work and the daytime caring for Abby if not sleeping. He hadn't been with a girl since his junior year, making him feel like a total loser.
The amount of times where Mike went back and forth with his inner thoughts, convincing himself that he was the problem was getting pretty intense and it was clear that he just needed a night out to clear his mind and prove those thoughts wrong.
You've been a "dancer" for the past few months at the downtown strip club, just trying to make ends meet. There was a tough competition working against you. You were new to this line of work whereas the other girls had been in the game for a while now, but you kept pushing on desperately.
How else were you going to make rent or keep the lights on? The nights were slow and building a consistent flow of clientele proved itself to be a challenge, that is until one night when a new guy walks in.
⊱✿⊰
This'll be my second fanfic written and I'm super excited to get it out for all my Mike girlies out there. I'm not really the type to write fics that are very characteristic of the guy but I'll try my best! He'll probably be more shy/submissive if anything (which is definitely Mike lmfao)
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ribbonsmatt · 9 hours
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it's a love/hate thing - two
summary: a story in which a quiet introverted girl attempts to befriend her popular neighbor
pairing: popular!mean!matt x quiet!introverted!fem!oc
enemies to lovers
warning: cursing
words: 2.2k
prologue 1
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a/n: oooo part 2! i hope u all enjoy! i'm writing a lot but part three probably won't get posted this weekend because i'll be out of state. but i appreciate all the love part one got and i hope u guys r just as excited to read this as i am to write it!!! lmk if any of u guys wanna be on on taglist too <333
xoxo
matthew sturniolo,
woke up the following morning in a frenzy. being one of four boys, his mom implemented a strict morning routine when the triplets started kindergarten, that they have been following right up until now, their senior year of high school. this morning however, matt was awoken about five minutes before he had to leave to the sound of chris and nick’s yelling to hurry his ass up. matt scrambled to pick out whatever clothes he could find, a pair of grey nike sweats and a fuzzy brown hoodie, and hurried downstairs to brush his teeth at record breaking speed before he was out the door heading the the mini van.
as he was throwing his and his brothers hockey bags into the trunk, he caught a glimpse of addilyn leaving her house and starting to walk down the block to the bus stop. as if his thoughts were being read, chris out loud wondered “what senior is still taking the bus?”
before matt could even open his mouth to make a rude comment, nick was already calling her over to offer a ride.
“dude what the fuck,” matt muttered under his breath to nick as addilyn approached the van, “i don’t wanna drive her.”
addilyn’s appearance totally switched from what she was wearing when matt saw her last night. her slim fitting dress was swapped out for a pair of mom jeans and an oversized sweater, her curly brown hair held back by a clip. “are you sure?” she breathed, looking at nick, “i’m okay with taking the bus, really.”
“we don’t mind at all, do we matt?” nick smiled through gritted teeth, nudging his brother in the arm.
“we don’t have time to mind,” chris interrupted them, climbing into the passenger seat, “we’re gonna be late.”
matt huffed, telling addilyn she could sit in the back seat with nick. he quickly plugged his phone into the aux cord, playing circles by mac miller as he backed out of the driveway and made his way to school.
*₊˚ 𓂃✧
it was only fourth period, and matt was already pissed off. the start to his day had been thrown off by waking up so late, and addilyn richardson being in his van this morning did not help one bit. he wasn’t sure what it was about that girl that bothered him so much. maybe it was the way she shut out the world by indulging herself in a book or in a drawing she was working on. or maybe it was the way her curls would stick up and fly away from the rest of her hair sometimes making her look like a mad scientist. or maybe it was the way she was the only girl who didn’t pay one ounce of attention to him. being the school’s best hockey player alongside his two other triplet brothers definitely made matt one of the most popular guys in school. he never had any trouble when it came to girls, because all of them already wanted him. except addilyn.
get yourself together man, she’s weird matt thought to himself as he entered his physics class, sitting next to his best friend nate. as he plopped his backpack down beside his friend, matt looked up at the white board and read in all big letters:
PARTNER PROJECT ON ENERGY OF MOTION - DUE IN TWO WEEKS
matt and nate grinned at each other, beginning making plans to pair up. the bell rang, and the teacher began to lecture. matt pulled out his notebook, already struggling to follow along with his teacher’s presentation. he had never been a straight a student, but he needed to keep his grades decent to stay on all his teams. however, physics was bringing his overall average down, and he needed to do well on this project to be able to start in his upcoming hockey games.
as the class made its way to an end and the students began to pack up, the teacher started to explain the project. “it’s quite simple really,” he began as he was erasing his notes from the board, “you and a partner will pick your own type of demonstration to show how kinetic energy is used in everyday objects.”
“this project will be worth a quarter of this semester’s overall grade, for both you and your partner, so it is crucial you all do well on this.” he explained, looking directly at matt. “before i let you all leave, i will be assigning your partners.” the entire class groaned.
he pulled out his class roster and began reading off names paired together.
“alexa and william… michelle and quincy… peter and xaiver… isabelle and ryan…”
please let me be with nate, matt thought. please let me be with nate. please let me be with nate.
“matthew and addilyn… louise and theresa… nathan and catie…”
no fucking way. of course addilyn was matt’s partner. he didn’t even know she was in his class. he looked around, annoyance written all over his face and he locked eyes with the curly headed girl sitting in the back of the room. she didn’t look too pleased either.
“this is an out of class project, so i suggest you start working on this asap.” the teacher announced just as the bell was ringing.
matt headed straight for the door when he felt a small tap on his shoulder. “what?” he snapped, looking down at the girl who tapped him.
“sorry,” addilyn said in a hushed voice, “its just- do you want to work on the project after school? we can go to my house, or i can come to yours or-”
“yeah, thats fine.” matt cut her off, walking out of the classroom, trying to shake her and walk with nate.
“which one?” she called out to him, her voice barely above a whisper.
“my house, but don’t expect anymore free rides from me. take the bus home.” matt told her angrily. she simply nodded and let him walk away from her, watching as he laughed with his friends in the hallway.
*₊˚ 𓂃✧
it was currently 3:30p.m., and matt was sitting at his kitchen table waiting for addilyn to come over. he had his laptop and textbook open, with messily written notes scattered all across the table. he found out later on in the school day that if he failed physics this semester, not only would be not be starting in his games, he would be benched for the rest of his hockey season. so to say he was stressed about this project was an understatement. he was broken out of his thoughts when he heard a tiny knock at the door, yelling for one of his brothers let addilyn in.
she wasn’t too excited about this project either, to be quite frank. but not for the same reasons as matt. addilyn simply hated working with others. she felt her quiet and introverted nature caused her to not work well when came to partner projects, so she typically opted to do these assignments alone. she even tried emailing her physics teacher after class, begging for him to let her work alone. he insisted that this was a two-person project for a reason, and told addilyn to stick it out. so here she was, at 3:30 on a monday, in matt sturniolo’s kitchen.
addilyn wasn’t sure why matt didn’t like her very much, but she wasn’t exactly is number one fan either. all the girls in the school loved matt. star hockey player, good looking, what wasn’t there to like about him? addilyn never looked at people surface level, though. she was a hardcore people watcher, mainly due to the fact she was almost always alone. she saw right through matt’s act and knew he was mean. she wasn’t sure how on earth he was related to nick and chris. they had only started talking a day ago, and she was greeted with smiles and waves every time she passed one of them that day. nick had even gone as far as switching his seat in art to sit next to addilyn. “i never liked sitting by the window, he had told her, “it’s always too drafty.”
addilyn quietly put her belongings down at the chair opposite from matts things, trying her best to be careful and not do anything to piss off matt even more. she was already on edge having to work one on one with him in his own house. matt didn’t even bother to look up at her. he mumbled a small “hi” as be started to type away on his laptop. addilyn pulled her belongings out, a stark contrast to matt’s. her notes were all written perfectly, with all the t’s crossed and i’s dotted, in a small cursive font that looked identical to if it were typed. matt took slight note of this.
“how do you write so neatly?” he genuinely asked, then realized he sounded nice, following up with “you probably so much free time on your hands because you have no friends” after addilyn told him quietly she re-writes her notes during lunch.
addilyn simply rolled her eyes. “i came here to work on the project, matt, not to take shit from you.”
“besides,” she started “we both get the same grade on this, and i am not letting you fuck up my gpa just because you want to be a dick to me.”
“it’s not like i can afford a bad grade on this either, sweetheart.” matt shot back at her.
sweetheart. why did her stomach suddenly feel weird?
stop it addy, she told herself, it’s matt, for crying out loud.
addilyn scoffed and began to look through her notes. “what were you thinking we do the project about?”
“i was hoping you could just do all the work.” matt had replied, blunt and matter-of-factly.
“what?” addilyn said in shock, dumfounded.
“what do you mean, what?, i don’t know shit about physics, you do. plus, i know you hate to work on these kinds of things with other people, so why don’t you do it alone?” matt told her.
she was in shock. had he really noticed i always work alone? she thought.
stop addy. he knows you work alone because you’re always doing things alone. it isn’t rocket science to connect the two.
before she could open her mouth to reply, chris came downstairs into the kitchen, grabbing a pepsi from the fridge. a smile grew on addilyn’s face as she said hi to him.
“no way, you and addy got paired together for this project?” chris gawked at matt, looking between him and addilyn.
“you’re so lucky, dude,” he continued, taking a swig of the soda, “justin told me he did this project when he was a senior, and everyone did so bad. thank god your partner is like, one of the top ten students in our class, or your senior season would have been shot.”
matt simply looked at chris. he was right, this shit was hard. he looked between the paper and addilyn a few times, before asking “where do we start?”
‎*₊˚ 𓂃✧
addilyn and matt ended up working until about 7:30 that night. his mom even insisted she stayed for dinner too.
“really sweetie, i don’t mind. i’m already feeding four kid’s, what’s one more?” she laughed.
“yeah addy, stay with us for dinner, please?” nick somewhat whined, dragging out the “e” sound.
addilyn gave in, and joined the sturniolo’s for dinner the second day in a row. like the previous night, dinner was filled with chatter from nick and chris, and radio silence coming from matt’s end. instead of giving her mean looks like he did at the previous dinner they shared, he just started at his plate the whole night and picked at his food.
“sorry about matt again,” chris apologized as he and nick began walking addilyn back next door to her house, “i don’t know whats been up with him lately.”
“it’s fine, really.” addilyn said. people being mean to her, or making rude remarks, was not out of the ordinary for her. she heard small whispers in passing everywhere she went. she was just used to it. “i’m glad you and nick are nice at least.”
chris just smiled at her and nick gave her a quick side hug. “we’re glad you’re nice, too, addy.”
the trio got to the front door, and addilyn gave them a small wave goodnight before she turned on her heel to walk into her home and upstairs. the boys walked back over to their house, noticing matt had already gone upstairs and disappeared to his room. he was sat at his desk, writing in his journal, when he noticed the light in the window across from his turned on. he saw addilyn set her book bag down, and sit at her mirror undoing her hair. he couldn’t help but to think how pretty she looked.
she’s weird, matt, he reminded himself, and you don’t even like her.
he sighed, closing his journal, and getting up to pull his blinds down to try to clear his head from the girl. out of sight out of mind. he saw her give a small smile, and he returned it by giving her a death stare, yanking the blinds down.
he got into bed, tossing and turning all night about this project with addilyn. he didn’t want to work on it with her, let alone even be nice to her, but he had to for chris and nick’s sake. they only started talking to her yesterday for god’s sake, and were already acting like they’ve been best friends since birth. matt knew these next two weeks of working on the project with addilyn everyday were going to be long.
tag list: @alorsxsturn @sturniolossss @cammie4298 @bussybandit1
@amorttentia
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wolfstarhaven · 17 hours
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FLATMATES (part 2)
Two years ago today I made my flatmates rec list, which is my favourite list ever. I never get tired of this trope. So, since it is once again my birthday, here are some lovely additions!
losing my mind, thinking about you, by drowsyanddazed (16k)
The black kohl along his water line is smudged, black flecks of it dusting his cheekbone. His hair is still flying everywhere, whipping across his face. He’s a mess. He’s the blurred edges of a photograph. He’s a heartbeat and stinging lungs. He’s the rattling behind Remus’ ribcage. And Sirius grins at him, tongue between teeth —illecebrous and tantalising and all things beautiful and dangerous— and all the air rushes out of Remus’ lungs in one fell swoop. He’s lightheaded and dizzy and burning.
An absolute gem, this one. In which the first wizarding war is on the rise, but the boys are flatmates and they go grocery shopping!! The jealousy and pining is perfect.
Heat the Winter Floods + A Little Sincerity Is a Dangerous Thing, by daphnaea (6k)
(Two parts)
It was funny, Sirius thought, the things you could fail to learn about your best mate despite sharing a dormitory for seven years.
A story of pining for you flatmate, in two parts. Set during the first war, it’s slightly angsty but oh so lovely and well-written.
Seeing Other People, by swings_and_roundabouts (21k)
Where Sirius is hopelessly in love with Remus Lupin who is always just a little out of reach. But their friends with benefits situation isn't sustainable, Remus is so close yet so far away and Sirius doesn't know if he can take it anymore.
Once again, they live together and are friends with benefits. Lots of pining, jealousy and idiocy follows, as well as a sort of “break-up”. This is quite angsty, very much a “requited unrequited love” kind of fic (which I LOVE).
Friends Don't, by shadow_prince (2k)
That didn’t stop him from glancing over the top of the paper to where he stood at the edge of the hallway. He was frozen in the way you froze just before you kicked off the ground on your broom. Right before a runner pushed off the block. Right before you dove off a cliff into the sea. Frozen with the promise of movement about to burst forth.
Sirius watched him, holding his breath.
“You’re lying.”
Short and sweet, less angst and more fluff!
the son and heir of nothing in particular, by @steelycunt (24k)
Remus is nineteen and tired, now. And he knows that if he and Sirius were ever going to become anything—if Sirius loved Remus the way Remus loves, and will probably always love, him—it already would’ve happened.
Another fic that proves that this trope is the absolute best. In which Remus is a stubborn prick (we love him) who refuses to move in with Sirius — but in the end he has no choice. There’s arguing, hurt feelings, and a stupid amount of pining. And, let’s now forget, the writing is out of this world lovely. Ridi’s characterisation of Remus is to die for. A must read!
Don't Make Me Beg For You (Because I'll Beg For You), by CuriousMay (14k)
“What?”
"You know, Rita Schaffer? She was that 4th year who had that incident with Bleatchley's Beauty Bleach in '75 just after our exams and Madam Pomfrey had to regrow all her hair-" Remus starts as he puts down the tomato but Sirius cuts him off with a sharp wave of his hand.
"No, not that, you idiot. The other bit. You said - you said you're in love with me?"
This fic was so much fun! In which Remus thinks that everyone, including Sirius, knows that he’s in love with him. Turns out: Sirius didn’t know. Some big realisations, pining and lots of sexual tension ensue.
Practical Oddities, by lurikko (48k)
Regulus needs a place to stay, Remus needs to get over Sirius. It’s August 1979 and things are getting out of hands.
In which Remus lives on Sirius’ sofa. That is, until Regulus shows up. Slow burn and beautiful pining in a First War setting. Lovely!
stars by the pocketful, by simplyylupin (16k)
But Sirius, Sirius is winter. He’s the cold mornings that startle you awake the instant you step outside. He’s the intricate snowflakes, the blunt shards of ice. He’s the holiday cheer, the twinkling lights and dainty decorations. He’s Aurora Borealis twisting around blinking stars. Remus always feels like he’s dying during winter. And if that isn’t the most ironic thing.
A wintery muggle au 5+1 fic full of not so subtle mutual pining. Very very cute!
Hic sunt dracones, by aryastark_valarmorghulis (5k)
Remus and Sirius try putting on makeup and end up trying a lot more: sex, kissing, and maybe even talking about feelings.
Well-written and spicy🌶️ Also very sweet! Poor Remus is pining like mad, and then he has to live through Sirius putting makeup on him? Torture☺️
I've sat upon the setting sun, by fiddleleafedfig (4k)
Sirius could see the swoop of long eyelashes that lined the brown eyes, still glued to the notebook in front of him. And as those sunrays danced, Sirius felt something heavy hit the pit of his stomach, simultaneously lodging itself in his throat.
A short story of falling in love over the years. They don’t live together in the beginning, but they do later on. Sweet fluff!
xx Elliot
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rumue · 2 years
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the swing: jungkook edition 🐰✨
-like/reblog ☑, do not repost!-
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monty-glasses-roxy · 6 months
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HALLOWEEN GAME TIME!!! WE'RE GOING TRICK OR TREATING!!!
ON THE DAY OF HALLOWEEN ask me or anyone else that's reblogged this, "trick or treat" and you shall recieve a random thing in your trick or treater bucket! What thing?
THAT'S UP TO WHO'S BLOG DOOR YOU'RE KNOCKING ON!!
A little doodle of their blorbo? An incorrect quote? A drawing of a little cat? A fun fact about bees? A little drabble (100 words I mean but do as you will) for a random thing? A photo of their pet dog? A headcanon? A fic recommendation? A random meme? An OC? A link to their current favourite song? A nice, virtual slap in the face? A trick? A treat? WHO KNOWS!!! NOT YOU OR ME THAT'S FOR SURE!!! (Just no screamers or shit like that of course lets not forget that lmao)
Why am I saying this now instead of on the day of the game? So anyone else that wants to play has plenty of time to prepare a little handful of things for the trick or treaters!!
Remember, it doesn't have to be anything big!!! You can be the blog that's giving everyone images of rotisserrie chicken you found on google, or you can be the blog that's giving everyone pictures of your cat if you want!! This is a low spoons and low stress game so do whatever you want to do that's easy for you!! Be a mix of everything or just give a 'hi!' it doesn't matter, it's all in good fun!! And we can trick or treat each other too, of course. Not as fun if you can't get any tricks or treats too, right? Anyone can trick or treat and anyone can be trick or treated!
I recommend making/queueing a post on the day so everyone knows you're playing btw (anyone that reblogs this post will get one off me too if they don't say otherwise in tags and if I remember I said this)
FOR TRICK OR TREATERS!!!
All you gotta do is send an ask with 'trick or treat' in it on Halloween! Halloween day!! 31st of October!! Day of spooky!! That's it!! (And if you go on anon no one will know if you come back again but I didn't tell you that lmao) I'll be answering any I get when it's Halloween in my timezone and I'm sure I won't be the only one so if you ask earlier, hang tight! It's probably not Halloween yet or they don't have time just yet cause it's a Tuesday! I believe that's everything so...
Have fun guys!!
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inkskinned · 2 years
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i turn 29 on july 1st. i feel like i make a lot of these notes to myself, to check in. hi, me, here's what's happening.
hi, me. hi, you, too, if you keep reading. here's some rules i have been following:
when a book is bad, i put the book down. i choose something i like instead. when i don't like a movie, i don't make myself watch until the end. i care less and less what people think about me and focus more on being a good friend.
for the 6 months or so, i've been asking people what they think should be my next book or tv show. i ask them where i should go on a walk next week. i ask them what food i should try next, what hobby. and then i write it down in front of them.
the truth is some stuff slips through the cracks. but most of the time? within two weeks, i get to send my favorite kind of text - so i tried the thing you were talking about and !
i have a new policy for split-second choices - it's better to try it. i have social anxiety. i have to talk myself into doing many things. i am constantly battling the desire to run away as far as my feet will take me. and then i stand up and i do the thing anyway. i make myself act and dance and sing. sometimes, yes, i know-immediately never again, i hate this. but most of the time - i just have fun with it.
i have a new mantra - nobody is scorekeeping. at the end of my life, there will be no grand reading of how many calories i'd been eating. no reviews on how many boring documentaries i forced myself through, no calculation on how many hours i endured an extremely dull educational podcast. and so what if i try karaoke and i don't actually nail it? so what if i stumble over my words while trying to make a public announcement? so what if i wear something too-showy to go to the grocery store? nobody there knows me, and: nobody's keeping score.
life doesn't resolve with a grade (i know, i was as shocked as everyone else when i realized it). i am not falling behind, because there's no curriculum to life that i should be following. there are no checkpoints; nobody is making sure i have a fully-furnished life resume. i am just here for as long as the earth will have me, and i get to decide what makes me happy.
i don't have a partner or a house or anything that is supposed to belong to people-my-age. i spend most of my time focusing on being kind, compassionate, ready to listen without restraint.
and honestly? i feel good. like actually. i kind of like it this way.
#the really ironic thing#is that the less i care what people think of me#the more friends i have#the more i get along with people easily#19 year old me would kill me for saying this bc she HATED when people said ''stop trying''#but it was that i wasn't trying to be their friend#i was trying NOT to be ME#i went from being like ''i think im too different for people to ever like me''#to a decade later being like#'' ah i'll be okay i get along with pretty much everyone ''#it was true about food too#i wasn't kind to my body and thought it could make me look a certain way#if i was pretty it would make up for the way i was internally very ugly#but im now in probably the best shape of my life#and i have pretty much kicked my eating disorder to the curb (goodbye die in a hole)#bc i spend SO much more time seeing the chance to work out as a FUN THING#bc i don't make myself ''follow the rules'' of working out -- i dance or jog or whatever my body wants to do instead#do you know how weird it is#to go from being a COMPLETELY alone kid like NOBODY will talk to you bc you're a social pariah#like bullied ALL THE TIME bc ur stupid and flighty and strange and too loud etc#to being like the exact same person but now people are like ..... ''ur smart and funny and charming and happy-go-lucky''#some of this does have to deal with the fact i got therapy and medication#and started being a better person and actually focusing on myself and the ways that i could improve#im gentler now. i don't crave attention in the same way. i don't mind things that used to destroy me#it DOES help that i finally got diagnosed with ADHD#anyway feelin things bc it's been 5 years of recovery <3
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b4kuch1n · 1 year
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fuck it sk8 sketches from da sketchbook. get sk8ed idiot
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rebornrosess · 7 months
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AGNES
HOW TO BE A HUMAN BEING by Glass Animals is 7 YEARS OLD TODAY.
A tribute I made last year for “Agnes,” the final song on the record, and a song that saved my life.
prints + ig
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bonestrouslingbones · 3 months
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wait holy shit i really AM doing better because i posted a thing on the other blog 2 days ago and it still has yet to get a single note. and i didn't delete it. i dont even feel weird about it. oh my god i knew this secret blog boosted my confidence a good bit but it wasn't so clear until right now
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i cannot believe i will be experiencing ot and the pokémon twitch cup at the same time. i will probably completely lose my mind in december you've been warned
#thankfully i don't have anything big planned for december so it'll be a chill month to furiously keep on top of ot and the twitch cup#btw i really recommend watching the pokemon twitch cup if you understand spanish cause it's genuinely the best thing that has come out of#twitch i think#even if you don't like pokémon. it's so impressive you have to watch it#it was what got me into watching twitch regularly and there's a lot of streamers i exclusively watch during the twitch cup only#i know people who only watch twitch for the twitch cup as well#and for those who don't know what it is#it is a pokemon tournament precluded by a randomlocke in a pokemon game#but not any pokemon game. A GAME MADE EXCLUSIVELY FOR THE TWITCH CUP#THEY MAKE A WHOLEASS GAME. EVERY YEAR. WITH INTERNAL REFERENCES AND PERSONAL DIALOGUES FOR EACH PARTICIPANT#THERE'S 42 THIS YEAR SO THAT MEANS 42 SEPARATE ROMS THEY'RE ABSOLUTELY INSANE#last year was absolutely mind blowing#if you wanna catch up (i really recommend it)#illojuan has the full playthrough in his youtube channel. if you search 'illojuan twitch cup 2' you'll probably get everything#also i don't know which pov i'll watch#like of course illojuan will be my main but. THERE'S SO MANY!!!#like ander and pandarina and abby and elbokeron and juja#i'd also want to watch some of ibai's pov for sekiam and some of rubius' for folagor#OH AND ZELING AND FOLLACAMIONES !!!!!#and on top of that i'd have to stay on top of OT and the 24 horas... oh god#it'll be two fun weeks#the twitch cup starts on november 27th btw. all the info is on twitter#and if you want more info on specific things please ask me!! it's the only time of the year i actively like twitch and the streaming#community as a whole
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novelconcepts · 3 months
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i don't make resolutions, but if i did
it would be to finish this fic
(and to be kind to myself for however long it takes to actually do so)
#i'm finishing it if it kills me#i know i've been writing this makeout scene for 3 weeks but baby that can't last forever#if we want to get deep and dark and serious for a second i do think a lot of my struggles to write lately have to do with engagement#and how incredibly low engagement has been on the last few things i've written#which like. is what it is. i'm not entitled to anybody's time or comments or kudos.#but when you write stuff you're proud of and it feels like it's barely getting read it's hard to keep momentum.#this isn't intended as a woe is me or whatever it's just kind of like. there. hovering.#happens enough times you start to wonder if it's you. am i just writing for the wrong fandom/ship?#(too bad if so. they're in my bones i'm writing for them and no one can stop me.)#but yeah. if you ever wonder if authors do care or notice about hits. comments. kudos. buddy i am here to tell you#not only do we care and FLOURISH we also notice when those things drop off and readers vanish#and it is a giant bummer. and sometimes makes us wildly paranoid about why that might have happened.#so if you liked a fic today--not even one of mine. just. anybody's. share it. comment on it.#kudos at the VERY least (cuz frankly kudos is there to be an 'i got to the end and this was nice' feature.#so when you get 500 hits and only like 30 kudos? it feels like 470 of those people hated your work)#anyway. that got out of hand. lil' too raw lil' too honest. happens when you let yourself ramble at 11:30 instead of sleeping#to sum: let your local fic writer know if they've made you happy#and as we go into 2024 i am swearing to myself that this fic (and probably several others) are getting finished#come hell. high water. or dishearteningly low engagement numbers.#(and then maybe we...actually work on something original. cuz why not. new year same old me but i'll do my best.)
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thatfaerieprincess · 1 month
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if one more well meaning relative asks me if i have done any drawing recently i will start screaming and flip a table 🤪🙃
#it's not their fault!! it's not!!! I'm known for being The One Who Draws#they usually get updates from my parents sending out pictures of things I drew for assignments for school for years!! they haven't gotten#anything new in a long time!!#it's not their fault to ask hey have u been making anything new??#but also if one more person asks I'll literally go fucking nuts I will start screaming crying throwing up#I will begin tearing myself limb from limb#especially if it's my grandma who I see literally every week and she in fact knows I have not been drawing#it's worse when she asks bc then it's also with that quiet pity of someone who assumes I probably haven't but hopes that I have#ANYWAY SORRY I JUST HAD TO PUT THIS SOMEWHERE#I'm doing my best and I'm not in a great space and I'm trying real hard to try and figure out who the fuck I am when my entire life isn't#Completeing Assignments#bc since middle school I have been nothing much outside of a Complete Assignments Machine#and I've found ways to bring my humor and my creativity and things I enjoy INTO Completeing Assignments#but I've somehow then learned I can ONLY do these things if they're for Completeing Assignments#and now I have graduated college and I'm trying to get a fucking job and move somewhere new and my life isn't Completeing Assignments anymor#and I haven't relearned how to have creative fun ideas outside of the assignments framework#but I want to get there again#but I need everyone to stop asking me if I have made any art recently#bc I think for a while the answer is going to be no and if it's not no it's gonna be yes but I'll have made something so fucking weird#you're going to wish I had said no and not explained that I was building a dead rat puppet#im a rambling sam
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