#19 hours on bike........

[burningcomputerpersona]

time to consider travelling to another state to see the wonder years live bc they're not coming to my city ;_;

[blue-sleeps-in]

if i were to videocall my therapist from the beach at sunset would that be winning at therapy

[mayumania]

fuckin hate when nts are right today i didnt drink anything except diet coke until i started feeling my entire body decay so i drank some water and then went ham on my exercise bike and now i feel better than i have in days :•)

[amandabbbbb]

summary: maybank!reader who’s a coke addict and lies to rafe about her addiction until he finds out and gets soo mad

tw: drug abuse, cocaine, rafe hits barry, rafes mean to reader

word count: 409

“baby, no, i’m not letting you fucking leave again,” rafe yelled as you yanked yourself out of his tight grip and ran out the door of tannyhill.

“i’ll be back later tonight. you can trust me. i just gotta pick up for my dad.”

you never wanted to lie to rafe or be involved in drugs, but having a father who was addicted to them didn’t help. you started picking up drugs for your father luke when you were 14, but now at 19 your addiction had spiraled into something darker, something you couldn’t control.

pedaling your bike to the other side of the island, you finally arrived at barry’s, your dealer. he always gave you the best drugs and didn’t charge you much in exchange for letting him flirt with you. “that has to be the best coke you’ve ever got, barry. shit,” you exclaimed as you finished the line of coke that he lined up for you. “you know me, sweetheart. i’d never give you bad drugs, would i, beautiful?”

as the drug rushed through your body, you thought to yourself that your boyfriend rafe would never even touch drugs. he was always just trying to please his dad. he would break up with you if he ever found out about your addiction. rafe just thought of you as the prettiest pogue, so innocent, timid, and shy. he always wanted to protect you.

a couple of hours after you left tannyhill, rafe walked in as you took that line with barry, picking up coke for himself and his friends to do at the kook party tonight. he would never let you see him do drugs; he played this character needing you to look up to him and never see him as a bad guy. but when he saw you throw your head back, wiping the white powder off your nose and hearing barry call you beautiful, he filled with rage.

“y/n, what the fuck are you doing?” rafe yelled. you stood up as fast as you could, his voice ringing in your ears. “get in the fuckin car.”

he slammed the car door and drove off at a speed you never felt his truck go before. you were shaking as you noticed blood splattered on his knuckles.

rafe’s lip curled into a sneer, his disbelief evident in the way he looked at you. “you’re pathetic,” he spat out, his words like a knife to your heart. “you’re just like him, aren’t you? your father. a worthless junkie.”

tears streamed down your cheeks as you struggled to process his words, the pain of his words cutting deeper than you thought possible.

“i gave you everything, y/n. i gave you a better life, and this is how you repay me? by throwing it all away for some fuckin drugs?” rafe screamed, his voice cracking.

“i-i’m so sorry rafe, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “i never wanted to hurt you. i just… i don’t know how to stop.”

your words made him feel guilty. as he looked at your glistening eyes and shaking hands, all he could say was, “just stop. stop doing the drugs, baby,” rafe whispered. he saw his own reflection in your tear-streaked face and realized he didn’t know how to help you, given his own struggles with drugs. all he could mutter out was, “i’m sorry.”

[sansaorgana]

Hiii, I’m so I’m love with Benny ❤️

Can u write about Benny x reader. She’s raising her baby niece or nefew and benny with the whole attitude about we’re going to marry, says that the baby is good for practice when they have their own kids ❤️❤️❤️

hello, sweetheart 💝 thank you for your request 🥺 I really enjoyed to write Benny with a kid 😌 by the way, apparently in real life Kathy had two kids when she met Benny! 😳 (and she was like 25 while he was 19) anyway, I decided that our Reader is raising her nephew who is 7 years old and – which probably is a TW – Reader's sister is dead + drugs overdose is mentioned

I had to close my requests for now because I got so many 🙏🏻

You were a new waitress at the diner and the local bad boy named Benny Cross had taken an interest in you. He kept coming around and flirting with you, flashing that pretty smile as he ordered a sandwich or a beer by the counter, showing off his tan and tattooed muscles. You would roll your eyes at him usually but you agreed for him to drive you back home after a few shifts, especially those evening and night ones. 

After two weeks of him driving you back home in the back of his motorbike, you ended up standing awkwardly on your driveway with him staring you up and down. It was an evening and you bit your lip as you looked at your feet, hoping he wouldn’t propose something indecent.

“You live alone?” He asked. Usually, he would just nod his head and drive away without a word.

“Depends what you mean by that?” You asked with a chuckle.

“Parents?” Benny tilted his head.

“No,” you answered honestly.

“Husband?”

“No,” you chuckled. “If I had one, you would have known already, don’t you think?” You teased but he only shrugged his arms. “Listen, I gotta go…” You pointed at the house behind you with your thumb, playing nervously with the keys in your hand.

Benny nodded at that but he looked a little disappointed. He probably wanted you to invite him inside but you couldn’t. Not with Jack sleeping upstairs.

“Benny,” you grabbed him by his strong arm and squeezed the fabric of the leather jacket. “Thank you,” you smiled at him and he nodded again but the disappointment was still there, written all over his face.

After all, he wasn’t your chauffeur for a thank you, right?

Unsurely, you leaned in and batted your eyelashes, too scared to make the first move. However, Benny didn’t need more encouragement than that – he grabbed you by your face, pulled you closer and joined your lips together in a devouring kiss. He smelled like cigarettes, beer and gasoline. It was making you dizzy as this masculine scent overwhelmed your senses while his tongue had found its way inside your mouth. You started to feel weak in your knees and you grabbed him by his vest to keep steady as a soft moan left your lips. It made him smirk before he broke the kiss.

You kept staring at his face, lit by the streetlamp nearby. His baby blue eyes, all the moles on his face, his golden hair… And he kept staring at you back, examining every little detail of your face as well, still keeping you close.

“I don’t work tomorrow,” you told him. “You can drop by for lunch or dinner,” you proposed.

“Sounds right to me,” he agreed. “Good night, kitty,” he rubbed your nose with his and moved away to hop on his bike.

He started the engine loudly and you waved after him before rushing inside the house to check on Jack. You hated to leave him alone for your evening or night shifts but you had no other choice as the only provider. He was only seven years old but he had to be pretty independent for a boy his age – you would leave him dinner to heat up after school and he had to deal with homework on his own. Then, some TV, a shower and going to bed – all on his own. You were grateful that he was a good boy and he was doing all these things responsibly instead of rebelling and staying out for hours or watching TV all night long. But you were also aware of the fact he would soon become a teenager and start to rebel and you dreaded the day.

You were in the kitchen, cooking pasta. The lunchtime was already over so you assumed Benny would come by for dinner. You kind of wished you had asked him about the exact hour when he would show up because you were ready since noon – all dolled up and nervous.

Yeah, he was coming to the diner and he was flirty here and there, taking you home and all that. But overall you didn’t know him much and he wasn’t very talkative most of the time. It would be the first time you’d spend time like that together. And he still had no idea about Jack… 

It was Saturday and Jack was upstairs in his room, drawing pictures. It was his favourite hobby. You had told him that you would have a friend coming over and he was very excited, so you hoped it wouldn’t end up as awkward.

When the doorbell rang, you turned the oven off and wiped your hands in your apron before approaching the front door. Benny was leaning on the doorframe with a smug smile.

“Hi,” you greeted him.

“Hi,” he looked you up and down and smiled even wider. He seemed to like your apron. “Am I interrupting somethin’?”

“I’m cooking dinner, come in,” you invited him and he entered the house.

He looked around and you encouraged him to follow you to the kitchen. He did and you turned the oven back on as he sat by the kitchen table.

“I’m making spaghetti, I hope it’s okay,” you informed him.

“Yeah,” Benny leaned back on the chair and tilted his head at Jack’s drawings on your fridge. “They’re yours?” He asked with a chuckle.

“They’re for me,” you explained.

But before you could say anything more, you heard loud, booming footsteps. Jack was running downstairs to see your friend. You swallowed thickly at the sight of him entering the kitchen with an excited smile as Benny froze for a while and blinked a few times in disbelief.

“Is that your friend?” Jack asked and put his hands behind his back. “Good afternoon, sir,” he nodded his head at Benny and you smiled at that.

“His name’s Benny,” you approached him and ruffled his hair. “Benny, that’s Jack,” you introduced them to each other with a heavy heart, hoping that Benny wouldn’t run away at this very moment or say something rude.

You didn’t want to reveal too early that Jack wasn’t your kid. First of all, you didn’t want to vigorously deny that in front of him to avoid him feeling rejected even though Jack knew very well that you were his aunt. Second of all, it was a good test for Benny. His reaction would tell you a lot about his character.

Once the first shockwave disappeared, Benny cleared his throat and extended his hand.

“Hi, I’m Benny,” he introduced himself. Jack shook his hand proudly, feeling important. “I’m (Y/N)’s friend.”

“Are you the one with the motorbike?” Jack’s eyes widened.

“Yeah. Wanna see it after dinner?” Benny proposed.

“Yup!” Jack clapped his hands. “You know, the engine always wakes me up at night,” he told Benny. “Wait! I’m gonna show you something!” He ran out of the kitchen.

An awkward silence occurred between Benny and you.

“Is he your kid?” Benny asked casually. “How old is he?”

“Seven,” you only answered the second part and watched him furrow his brows as he kept counting something with his fingers like preschooler.

“How old are you exactly?” He seemed to be confused.

“Fourty,” you joked.

“Oh, wouldn’t tell,” Benny’s eyes widened and you chuckled because it was adorable how he believed you.

“Benny, I was joking,” you explained and put your hands on your hips, checking on the pasta with the corner of your eye.

“It don’t matter to me, you know,” Benny shrugged his arms. “How old are ya now or how young you were when you had the kid. I like you,” Benny said and you felt your heart filling with joy and affection.

“I suspected that a guy like you would chase after them pretty dolls,” you turned around to turn the oven off since the pasta was cooked now.

“Damn right I do. You’re a doll,” Benny assured you and you shook your head with a chuckle.

You focused on making the spaghetti when Jack came back to the kitchen with a drawing in his hand and he placed it on the table to show it to Benny.

“I drew a motorbike!” He told him proudly. “And that’s (Y/N) on it and you. I saw you one night through the window!” He exclaimed. “Sorry, in the dark I thought you had brown hair,” he explained.

“It’s great, dude. You like to draw?” Benny asked him.

“Yup! I draw everything I like! Cars, motorbikes, construction machines, trains, dinosaurs and dogs! (Y/N) sometimes takes me to the diner and I sit by the window and draw the cars in the parking lot!”

“That’s so cool,” Benny gave him a thumbs up.

“Yeah, I know!”

“Dinner’s ready,” you turned around with two plates in your hands as you approached them. “Take the drawing off the table, Jack,” you told him.

“It’s for Benny,” Jack insisted and looked at him. 

Benny smiled awkwardly and took the drawing, not knowing what to do with it.

“You can fold it, it’s fine,” Jack assured him and Benny nodded before folding the drawing and putting it into his pocket.

“Now, go wash your hands,” you told Jack and he sighed before running off to the bathroom.

You placed the plates on the table and then you turned around to get the third one and put it there as well. Then you sat down and kept staring at Benny who was silent as usual.

“He’s not my kid,” you explained silently. “My sister’s,” you added. “I have raised him since he was four. It was difficult and I had to drop out of college but I didn’t want him to end up in the orphanage,” you added.

“Why couldn’t your folks raise him?” Benny asked.

“They cursed my sister out for… For being with Jack’s dad. It’s a long story. So, they didn’t want anything with Jack either, they said he’s got that bad blood in him, that he’s a rotten apple because he’s from a bad tree. And his father’s family… I don’t even know if they are alive. He was a very bad man, Benny. He was rotten indeed, evil to the core. I’m glad he died, let me tell you, because he’d be an awful influence on Jack and you see what a sweet boy Jack is. But what I’m mad about is that he took my sister down with him. Down to the grave,” you sighed and shook your head.

“I’m sorry,” Benny mumbled. “Drugs?”

“Yeah, heavy stuff,” you nodded and played with your food nervously. “Now my parents say I’m stupid for wasting my life, my education and all that. But how could I let Jack go to the orphanage, huh? You seen him. He's a sweetheart. Such a gentle soul and I wish they could see that but they keep saying he’s gonna grow up to be a deadbeat like his daddy. That’s why we moved. I wanted to be away from my family and start fresh,” you explained.

Before Benny could answer, Jack was back already. He sat by the table and started to eat.

“Yummy!” He told you with a smile.

“Thank you, love,” you caressed his hair gently.

“Yeah, it’s very good,” Benny nodded after taking the first bite.

“How long have you been driving motorcycles?” Jack asked him.

“Since high school,” Benny answered.

“I want to drive them, too!”

“Ha-ha-ha, absolutely no way,” you gave Jack a scolding look.

“Why not? Your boyfriend can drive them and I can’t?” Jack whined and you felt your cheeks heating up.

“Um��� Benny is not my –”

“I’ll teach you how to drive ‘em when you’re old enough,” Benny interrupted you.

“Benny!” You gasped and Jack giggled. “I said: no.”

“He doesn’t have to drive fast. He can be a good boy about it,” Benny winked at you and you sighed.

“I’ll be careful, I promise,” Jack laid his head on your arm and you caressed his cheek.

“I hope so. I hope you’ll always stay this sweet. Even as a teenager,” you booped him on the nose and he smiled widely at you before going back to eating.

The rest of the meal went more peacefully. Benny was mostly asking Jack about school and his friends. When everyone ate, you took the dishes to wash them and promised to prepare a dessert while Benny took Jack outside to show him his Harley motorbike.

You observed them through the window with a smile. They looked quite adorable together and you couldn’t stop the way butterflies were forming in your stomach at the sight of them together. You had not expected a guy like Benny to just… Accept your situation so casually. He had been surprised at first but that was it.

You took the ice cream out of the freezer and divided it into three portions before going out to stand on the porch.

“Boys!” You called them and they both turned around at the same time. “Dessert’s ready!” You announced and watched how both of their faces lighted up as their eyes filled with the sparkles of excitement. You chuckled to yourself. They were adorable.

Benny and Jack rushed inside and you reminded Jack to wash his hands again. He rolled his eyes but went to the bathroom obediently.

“And me? I don’t have to?” Benny teased you.

“You can catch whatever disease you want, I don’t care. You’re a big boy, Benny. It’s your choice if you wash your dirty hands or not,” you looked at his hands. They were black from the grease after showing Jack something with the engine.

Benny blushed a little and went to the bathroom as well.

When they were back, they grabbed their bowls with ice cream and you proposed to eat it on the couch while watching TV. Jack insisted on sitting between you and Benny and Benny insisted on watching some comedy show that you usually didn’t allow Jack to watch because of its primitive humour. This time you made an exception and you could see how Jack was starting to like Benny more and more.

They were laughing at the same jokes – although you were sure Jack didn’t understand some of them and only laughed because Benny did. But what mattered more was the way they laughed. Both in a similar way, cutely, throwing their heads back and giggling. You had never seen Benny Cross like that before and your heart was filling with more and more affection towards him. He started to remind you of a little boy now.

Well, he had been a little boy once after all. And, oh, he had to be adorable, you thought, and you reached your hand out to caress his arm softly. He looked at you and you shyly took your hand away. However, he smiled at you lovingly and your cheeks heated up.

When the comedy show was over, you asked Jack to wash the dishes after the dessert and he did that without complaining – mostly because he was grateful to you for letting him watch that silly comedy show.

“You turning him into a girl?” Benny pointed his finger at the kitchen where Jack had gone to as he moved closer to you on the couch.

“No, I’m teaching him how to do basic chores around the house,” you told Benny. “You don’t wash the dishes?”

“Only when I have to,” Benny groaned. “But I hate that.”

“Well, at my house you’d have to,” you crossed your arms.

“I’m gonna get used to it,” he chuckled and you raised an eyebrow at him. He was grinning at you.

“Listen, Benny,” you changed the subject as you got more serious. “Thank you,” you lowered your voice. “I know I should have told you earlier about Jack…”

“What you thankin’ me for, kitty?” Benny furrowed his brow.

“For… Acting decent, I suppose,” you bit on your lower lip.

“Well, I don’t mind you raising a kid, dollie. In fact, I think it’s cool,” he winked at you.

“Cool?” You snorted at that, confused.

“Yeah, you know, he’s a nice fella and we’re gonna practise before our own little ones come one day,” Benny shrugged his arms and stretched his arm to put it around your shoulder.

“Benny, we barely know each other,” you pointed out.

If any other guy started talking about having kids with you so fast – you’d run away. But with Benny it was different. Something about him was making you feel secure. Perhaps because of the way he was with Jack.

“That’s why I said: one day,” Benny smirked.

“What I mean is, it’s too early to plan such things”, you said but you leaned your head on his chest anyway. He shook his head with a chuckle.

“Little girl, I’m gonna marry you, don’t you know?”

MASTERLIST || BENNY MASTERLIST

[hedgehog-moss]

(TW POLICE VIOLENCE)

France has been feeling like a police state this week, there were 5000 cops deployed in Paris yesterday (watch this video and tell me this is a normal amount of cops and they're behaving normally) and they keep acting like they have total immunity*, to beat up protesters, to arrest protesters, or just random people walking in the vicinity of a protest. My 70+-year-old dad tried to go to a peaceful protest and had to abandon the idea because of all the tear gas being used by police.

*Which they do—as Le Monde pointed out, the cops who are violent risk nothing because they can't be identified because almost none of them wear their identification number even though it's supposed to be mandatory. They're not being penalised for not wearing them, so why should they?

If you can stomach it, please have a look at the photos and videos on this Twitter account documenting French police brutality against protesters—as I write this, the most recent tweet is about a journalist who was beaten up by a BRAV-M cop* using his steel baton; he had his head cracked open and his hand broken.

(* BRAV-M is a motorised repression corps—cops on bikes—a unit that was dissolved in 1986 after some of them beat a student to death, who wasn't even attending a protest but walking near one. Macron changed the unit's name, from Voltigeurs to BRAV-M, and reestablished it to suppress the Yellow Vests protests. This week, a BRAV-M cop deliberately drove over a 19-year-old's leg at a protest after chasing him on his bike. The victim said he heard a cop say to others "Smash him." Another BRAV-M punched a protester unconscious on March 20. And today Le Monde published an article about BRAV-M cops being recorded bragging about "breaking elbows and faces.")

In Paris last week the CRS arrested a 14-year-old kid because they took him for a dangerous black bloc protester I guess?? A child spent a night in police custody without knowing why. They've also arrested several 15 / 16 year-olds. Let's teach the youth what happens when you exercise your right to protest!

On March 16th in Paris, within one evening, they arrested 292 people, and 283 were released without charges, which means they're mass-arresting people for peaceful protests as a strategy of intimidation. The student I mentioned in my post the other day, who spent 48 hours in custody and was eventually charged for refusing to have his DNA samples taken and filed, asked the cops why they were arresting him + 4 other people who were walking down the same street and they said "Because you look like fucking leftists."

The government tells us "We fully support our brave police forces" when the cops are arresting people for "looking like leftists." How are we still a democracy? The guy also mentioned that during the time he spent at the police station, the police was mostly arresting Maghrebis, though they made an exception for him, a Black guy. There are videos from the past week of cops beating up women, tear gassing protesters in the face from 20cm away, kicking protesters in the face when they're already on the ground, crushing their heads under their boot, brutalising a homeless man and old ladies, tear gassing crowds with young children in them. I'm having trouble finding links to these specific incidents I remember because there are so many videos circulating.

Look at this video, they're violently striking the back of people's heads with steel batons even when the protesters are already going in the direction they're told to. The little old lady shoved around and trying to protect her head from the strikes is breaking my heart.

Surely at the point when enforcers of state authority are arresting middle schoolers, beating up citizens for exercising their rights and gassing and pepper spraying elderly people, children and babies in strollers, the government might want to make some sort of statement condemning this state of affairs, but instead they have been telling us they're proud of & grateful for their police forces, which of course angers people and makes protests more violent. The Minister of the Interior, who supervises the police, praises them wholeheartedly and excuses all instances of deliberate brutality as 'isolated incidents' due to 'tiredness'.

Here's a thread in English describing a protester's experience—"Yesterday (March 23) the level of arbitrary police violence clearly leveled up. I was tear gassed three times without being able to move in a very dense crowd; policemen took advantage that people were unable to move more than 20cm to pounce on us and bludgeon us in a totally arbitrary manner." (you can see an example of this behaviour in this video from a different protest)

Yesterday, after a day of nationwide protests that brought a fresh new wave of video evidence of cops beating up protesters and making reckless use of tear gas—at the end of a day when a special ed teacher at a protest got her thumb torn off by a tear gas grenade—this is what the French Prime Minister said:

They're not even trying to play it off like "both sides made mistakes" they're telling us they condone everything the police is doing, that this is what they're deploying them for:

(screencap from this video)

(this is from this video, in which you can hear a woman screaming "Stop it! You're strangling him! You have no right! I'm filming you!" The cops don't seem to care about being filmed. They're beating up citizens with the government's full blessing after all.)

Macron's government is trying to intimidate people into giving up their right to protest, by deploying cops in huge numbers and publicly voicing complete support for their behaviour, by allowing them to beat and arrest hundreds of people and to use tear gas indiscriminately. Tear gas has been completely normalised as a means of state violence, it's very practical that it doesn't leave traces of blood or broken bones I guess, but it's still violence, it burns, it's a chemical whose effects on people's health we don't know a lot about.

^ Paris (from this vid; caption: "one tear gas grenade after the other")

Macron condescendingly told us there's no "magic money" which is why the pension reform is needed, but he did find the money to stockpile these apparently unlimited amounts of tear gas grenades to suppress protests against his reform to make poor people work longer.

^ Nantes (screencap from a vid in which the cops throw three or four grenades at once and you can hear people say "oh come on, seriously? this is crazy. Why? go fuck yourselves" in a tired tone)

We've also found out yesterday that three Corsican MPs were pressured not to support the Assembly's no-confidence vote against the government—by being told if they didn't vote it, a teaching hospital would be built in Corsica.

The island of Corsica is the only region of France that doesn't have a teaching hospital; due to lack of medical resources Corsicans often have to travel to mainland France for healthcare. Just last month the Minister of Health said sorry, still no teaching hospital for Corsica, it's just not possible right now. Then last week some "magic money" was apparently found to build it but only if the Corsican MPs didn't support the no-confidence vote. I know this kind of thing isn't exactly unique in politics but Macron has been slashing hospital budgets to the point that 20% of French hospital beds are closed due to lack of staff, and he used the health of 340,000 French citizens as a bribe to save his ass. The three Corsican MPs ended up voting in favour of the no-confidence vote despite of that, as it was what their constituents wanted (honour to them). Macron's government survived the no-confidence vote by only 9 votes.

Whatever legitimacy Macron has as a President right now is being clung to by MP corruption and police repression. How do we move forwards knowing that, I don't know. How does he have legitimacy to govern on any issues after the way he handled this reform and the following protests? His police forces are drowning city centres in tear gas, a chemical whose effect on birds and other fauna is not known, and we're supposed to listen to him talk about the environment? They're wasting thousands of litres of water using water cannons to disperse protesters, and we're supposed to listen to him talk about low groundwater levels and how we need to save water? I was going to say, what about his legitimacy abroad but other Western governments don't seem too bothered so far by his handling of the protests—though I'm grateful that Amnesty International did condemn it, and that a Belgian deputy made a speech in Parliament this week asking his government to condemn Macron's use of violent police repression.

[Wait, I just saw that as I was writing this post, the Council of Europe condemned the "excessive use of force" in France. Saying that 'sporadic acts of violence' of some protesters can't 'justify the excessive use of force by agents of the State' or 'deprive peaceful protesters of their right to freedom of assembly'. This is the opposite framing as the one our government is standing by—sporadic acts of violence by cops that are either justified or excusable—it's refreshing.]

Between that and Charles III cancelling his visit (and lots of tourists cancelling trips to Paris which is bound to piss off the tourism industry) and our own media waking up and starting to talk about the government's brutality, I hope Macron starts being held accountable. He has been fanning the flames of this crisis at every turn, by telling us that the crowds protesting in the street have 'no legitimacy', by sending cops to break strikes even though striking is a Constitutional right (but the only part of the Constitution he cares about is the one that starts with 49.3), by condemning the protesters when asked to condemn police violence—saying "When [protesters] use violence, unregulated, absolute, we're no longer in a Republic." I agree, but he's describing himself.

When you resort to using article 49.3 to bypass the National Assembly for the 11th time this term to impose a reform that 70% of the country is against (and 93% of working people) that will force the poorer classes of the population to work longer, and your only response to people's distress at being told to work until they die is to force them to accept it by allowing your police forces to beat up protesters, to arrest them and to gas them, you have failed as a democratic leader.

The next organised protest and strike is next Tuesday (if you want to give something to the strike solidarity fund, here it is); in the meantime spontaneous protests are still erupting pretty much every day and cops are getting burnt out (good! There are fun videos from yesterday's protests of cops accidentally tear gassing one another, or a police car accidentally running into another as people laugh and clap.) And yes some protesters are getting more extreme and destructive, but Macron is the one choosing to stand by his reform at all costs and let this country burn. And when I look at what we're being expected to tolerate and to normalise, I'm kind of proud that French people's gut reaction was "burn it all."

Some popular Twitter hashtags for the protests:

#ToutCramer - Burn everything #CensurePopulaire - People's no-confidence vote #MacronDémission - Macron resign #OnLâcheRien - We won't cede an inch.

[joostsblog]

im sending this ask to myself as a reminder for this fic idea i just had: joost friends to lovers trope inspired by fallingforyou by the 1975!!! "I read between the lines and touched your leg again" "I don't want to be your friend, I want to kiss your neck" aaaaaaaahhhh!!!

hello joostsblog you read my mind you know me so well its scary

fallingforyou ~ joost klein one shot

My masterlist here ✨💌

Pairing: Joost Klein x female!reader

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: You know im a sucker for friends to lovers 👀

Warnings: not proofread

There were times when you were uncertain of Joost's feelings for you and there were times you were very certain.

Like when he would gently tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear while you were talking. The touch would feel so intimate yet mundane. After all the strand dangling in front of your eye had been bothering you.

Or when he would lift you up so you could catch a look at the artist on stage when you were doomed to standing at the very back of the pit. Or when he would get you a drink after you finished rambling about your shit day at your job. In those moments you wondered whether you were the only one that secretly wished that touches lingered longer and lips would inch closer.

Then there were the times when his hugs definitely felt distanced in the way a platonic hug should be. Or when he would tell you how fit he thought that brunette across the bar was and you would tell him about your latest failed tinder date. In those moments you were certain you were just a friend to him.

You had known each other since you were 19 and you'd grown together. You had just started uni in Amsterdam and Joost's music career was slowly taking off. He'd call you in between lectures to convince you to come out to one of his gigs in the evening even though you needed to study. In the end, you would almost always show up. Even if it meant biking half an hour to get there with your uni bag still slung across your body.

When you were 23 and just finished your bachelor's degree, Joost was able to move into a bigger apartment. You vividly remember the day you turned in your final assignment and went to Jumbo to buy some supermarket flowers and a bottle of wine. You biked to Joost's new apartment where he greeted you with your favourite chocolate and a banner hung across his living room congratulating you on graduating uni.

Nowadays Joost constantly nags you and says he misses those days when you were still unemployed, when you didn't spend 5 days of your week at work. "I don't miss it," you would laugh and remember those uncertain times when you didn't know how to make rent and whether you would ever get a job. Joost would always help you out, buy you food or even cover rent, no matter how sternly you protested.

Your friends would tell you to get together already. That you were made for each other. But every few years you watched the other person get into a relationship while the other one was just healing from a tough break-up. Fate never really seemed to align with the two of you. So after a few years you didn't even think of the possibility of the two of you getting with each other realistically. That didn't mean you stopped wishing for it. Joost was your everything, you loved him - more than as just a friend.

The days had gotten shorter, the weather rainier and even you had admitted that sweaters were more appropriate to wear than

t-shirts. It was Friday evening and you tried to break the news to Joost that you would be going home already.

"No, (Y/N), please stay," Joost whined and you laughed.

"I'm sorry, I can't," you said. "I'm so tired." You had come to your favourite bar straight after work to meet Joost and some of your other friends. "I need to just lay on my couch and do nothing until I fall asleep now," you insisted.

Joost pouted. "I miss you," he said and your heart broke at the sight of his sad face. "I miss hanging out with you constantly," Joost lightly touched your elbow. Uncertain.

"I know," you said empathetically. "Me too," you put your hand ontop of Joost's to comfort him. "Do you wanna come with me? We can lay on the couch together until I fall asleep," you suggested before you could even think about it too much. His eyes lit up.

"Of course."

You unlocked your apartment door before you both stepped in.

"I haven't been here in forever," Joost remarked and you agreed as you took off your coat.

"Oh," you said as your coat button got caught up in Joost's belt which forced you two to step closer to each other. You laughed and felt your heart suddenly beat faster. Joost took advantage of the moment and wrapped his arms around you to engulf you in a comforting hug. Uncertain.

You laughed on the couch as you tried to pick a shitty reality tv show on Netflix to watch while you knew that you would end up talking over it the whole way through anyways. You watched Joost's face as he told you about his most recent song he finished and all you could think to yourself was, how you wanted nothing more right now than to lean over to him and kiss his neck as if it was the most natural thing in the world. As if you had done it a thousand times already. But what if you did? Would that be so bad? What was the worst thing that could happen?

After all, there were those moments when you were uncertain. Those moments that could mean that Joost wanted the same thing from you. The meanings between the lines which you could interpret correctly.

So the nonchalant touch to his knee maybe wasn't so daring after all. The touch that made Joost stop in his words just for a millisecond before he continued with his story with just a hint of a shy smile on his face.

The touch that lingered on his leg even after you removed your hand again. The touch that made him move closer to you when Joost wondered whether he understood your gesture correctly.

You lifted up the blanket so Joost could cuddle up beside you. Both of your words only whispers now that you were so close. Joost's bare arm was touching against the wool of your jumper and you wished the fabric wasn't a barrier between you in this moment.

"How is it that we never were single at the same time until now?" Joost asked and you laughed.

"I know right," you agreed. "And now I work a full-time job and we can't even enjoy being single together," you joked.

"Well, what if I don't want to be single?" Joost asked.

"Are you on dating apps again?" you asked earnestly.

"No."

"Well, you're not really trying then," you stated.

"I am," Joost said and looked at you with an unreadable expression.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked nervously.

"I don't know," Joost said before looking away.

"I don't wanna be single too," you sighed. "I miss the romance."

"Yeah?" Joost asked.

"Yes, like having someone cook your favourite meal for you with roses on the diner table and a massage while watching my favourite movie or something," you said.

"I can do those things," Joost said.

"Well, of course you can," you laughed. "But you'd be missing the romance element," you reminded him.

"Ouch," Joost said. "If you think you could never fall in love with me you could tell me in a nicer way, you know."

"That's not what I meant," you said and dreaded saying what you were about to say. "I mean the other way around. You wouldn't be romantically interested in me."

Joost paused.

"How would you know that?" he asked.

You paused.

Were you reading between the lines? Was there something there in his words? An unspoken implication he expected you to take up on?

"I don't know," you said quietly. It was the truth. You didn't know. You didn't know you were just a friend to Joost or whether there was something more.

"Well, you would know if I leaned in to kiss you," Joost whispered, his voice almost cracking. "And I would know if you leaned in to kiss me," he continued and your heart started beating faster than it already did.

Certain.

You leaned in to close the small distance left between you and Joost. His hand reached up to cup your cheek before your lips eventually met in a passionate kiss. His lips tasted so sweet against yours, like they were made to be pressed against yours. His fingertips felt so tender against your cheek. The frame of his dorky glasses ever so slightly bumped against your nose as you both deepened the kiss, desperate to feel each other after years of longing for a moment like this. After you pulled back you saw a happy grin on Joost's face mirroring yours.

"I've been falling for you for such a long time."

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Me again lol

Could you do #19: “did you walk here”

With all Paul, David, Marko, and Dwayne?

Scenario: reader’s parent was short and aggressive with him so he tried to avoid them without leaving the house, only to hear said parent on the phone acting completely different with their sibling, AKA nice/understanding/playful. And it got too much to hear so reader just left the house and walked to the cave. Angst with comfort?

If this is all too specific, i understand! Still love everything you write.

I hope you like this! It's slightly different than your concept, but when I began to write the words, they just kind of started to run with it? Anyways, I hope you like this!

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

Four silhouettes stood on top of the cliff, their faces hidden by the shadows casted by the bright lights of the motorcycles they were sitting on. As I slowly walked closer, my legs were tired from the long walk, I couldn't help but overheard what they were saying.

"I don't know what you're going to do today, but I do know that we need to pick him up," Dwayne said, ignoring the annoyed look David shot him.

"No shit," he glared, "but if you think that's a one man job, you're wrong."

"He knows how to handle his family," Paul shrugged, mentally agreeing with Dwayne that it didn't really matter who picked their boyfriend up, as long as it happened.

"Doesn't mean he should have to," Marko answered, looking at David and then the others. "But if we all go, we might make things worse. We know he isn't ready to cut ties yet, so we shouldn't force him to."

"You ehr - you don't really have to worry about that," I said, my voice more unsteady than I had meant it to be.

"Are you alright?" Paul, who was closest to me, pulled me towards him. I stumbled due to the sudden movement, glad that he caught me before I fell.

"Like now, or before you grabbed me?" I asked teasingly, but it was painfully clear I wasn't quite in a joking mood.

"What happened?" David asked, his voice softer than I had heard before. I sighed as I sat down on Paul's bike, looking at the ground.

"I always knew they had a favourite," I tried to shrug it off, but saying it out loud only made it more real, "I just never thought they'd make it so painfully obvious."

The more I spoke, the angrier I began to feel. The angrier I got, the more tears burnt in my eyes. How could they - my parents, the ones who were supposed to love me no matter what - treat me so differently than my sibling? Why were they so distant towards me, as if I were the dirt under their shoes. What did my sibling do to deserve their love? Was it because they were younger? They needed their help more?

"Another fight, hm?" David lifted my face up with his hand, forcing me to look at him. "Your parents are idiots, I hope you know that."

I gave him a small smile and nodded. "It still hurts."

"No shit," Dwayne chuckled, "but it will lessen over time. Besides, you don't have to deal with them ever again if you don't want to."

"But they're my parents. I live there, I mean, I know I walked off tonight but I can't just leave..."

"And why not?" Marko popped up behind me. "If it's your things you're worried about, we got that covered. If you're scared that you'll see your parents on the boardwalk, we will deal with them. There's no need for you to go back if you don't want to."

"Wait, hold up!" Paul looked at me, worry on his face. "You said walked off. Did you walk here?"

I nodded.

"Fucking hell! Babe, that's an over four hour walk!"

I nodded, smiling sheepishly. "My feet do hurt."

"Marko, get some food. Dwayne, Paul, go and pick up his stuff. You're moving in with us tonight."

"Isn't that a bit fast?" I asked, a slight frown appearing on my forehead.

"I don't know anyone who would walk four hours just to see their boyfriends. Shut up, you live with us now."

I chuckled as he lifted me up, making sure I wouldn't have to walk any further today. "Okay, I guess."

[ningningsdream]

the villain in your story masterlist | n.jm

pairing: fem!oc x barista!jaemin, fembarista!reader x barista!jaemin

genre: fluff, angst, suggestive, barista!au, sns au

summary: girls' code prevents you from liking the guy your friend likes right?

warning(s): drama, swearing, toxic friendship, may be suggestive idk yet, lots of flirting

status: finished

started: 23210

ended: 23603

a/n: started this on a whim

main masterlist

00. profiles

01. new barista

02. working hours

03. cute friend, free macarons and missed opportunity

04. work proposal

05. free drinks and arguments

06. different friendships

07. one step forward...

08. huang homewrecker renjun

09. ...and three steps back

10. babygirl jaemin

11. aftermath

12. strong malewife & hot wusband

13. movie night & forgiveness

14. jaemin's friends

15. lottery shopping

16. jeno's dispatch era

17. drunk!y/n

18. istg na jaemin

19. happy birthday, y/n!

20. summer break

21. another one

22. y/n saving the day

23. complicated travel plans

24. shawty imma party 'til the sun down

25. mad!y/n

26. just not that into you

27. roadtrip

28. late night explanations

29. first day: bike railing and one bed trope at its finest

30. second day: girls' day & boys' day

31. second day: drunk!y/n again

32. third day: interesting pictures

33. third day: alpacas and kitchen gossips

34. fourth day: beach picnic

35. fourth day: soju ranking

36. fifth day: water activities

37. sixth day: free day

38. mixed signals

39. back to seoul

40. worries

41. study date?

42. sleepover

43. perhaps she snaps

44. date date date

45. playing victim

46. rejection & cakes

47. someone from the past

48. breaking point

49. what goes on when y/n is not at suhturday

50. surprise

51. abort mission

52. jaemin's birthday

53. wedding

54. parents

55. last confrontation

56. epilogue

taglist: [closed]

@glamourizz @rinrinslovebot @beomibeom @moonjobf @hiqhkey @leemarksfavorite @calssunflower @donghyuckster @vianna99 @kookiedesi @baehaechannie @nshimura @thiccfullsun @dear-dreamie @neobowlingshoez @jjaehmins @bruisedcupids @neoivy1 @liliansun @bythe8 @hyuckrec @dearlyminhyung @ohmygs-blog @hoeshi17 @wonupuppy @shan-oldham @jeongintwt @renjunoya @najm00 @sukistrawberry @goldryush @000rpheus @sfthyuka @mxnhoeuwu @dandelionxgal @vanillainverse @niaalove @igotkpoops

[deepcreekvulture]

Spencer Reid's College Timeline

So, I was chilling at my local Library and decided to use my very extensive free time to write out Spencer Reid’s College timeline (or at least how it makes the most sense to me).

There’s probably going to be a lot of inconsistencies and possible contradictions in this, but please give me a little grace. I don’t go to college, and I'm just silly. 

I did try to be as accurate as I could, but there’s only so much I can do with my little brain and 10 mgs of Adderall. 

I also tried to be as realistic as I could, especially with considering how Diana’s condition would affect his education. But, again, it's not going to be perfect. Feel free to share your thoughts.

What we know:

-Spencer Reid graduated from a Las Vegas public high school at the age of 12 (01.18 “Somebody’s Watching”)

-He went to Caltech. I personally like to think that he also went to MIT (Breen Frazier has admitted that Spencer saying he want to MIT in 07.04 “Painless” was a continuity error, but I think it is possible that he went to both, just not at the same time.)

-He has 3 PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering (04.08 “Masterpiece”)

-He had 3 Bachelors degrees in Psychology, Sociology, and Philosophy  (04.08 “Masterpiece”)

-Joined the BAU around July of 2004 at the age of 22 (05.16 “Mosley Lane”)

Spencer is talking to Sarah Hillridge and mentions that he’s been with the BAU for “5 years, 7 months, and 19 days...” doing the math puts it around July of 2004.

-Spencer was born in October of 1981

There is some confusion about whether his birthday is October 12th or October 28th. I believe that his birthday is October 28th 1981, Emily Prentiss’s birthday is October 12th 1970 (04.14 “Cold Comfort” & her headstone)- and it is very unlikely that the two of them would share a birthday and it not be mentioned. (It also gives some more insight to why Spencer loves Halloween so much- it’s right after his birthday!)

So, assuming he started kindergarten at 5 years old, Spencer was in grade school from around 1986-1994. It is likely that he could have finished grade school faster, but a lot of the time public school systems want to keep students from jumping too many grades in order to not stunt their social development. 

I am taking the liberty of assuming that Spencer received all 3 PhDs before joining the FBI- so from age 12-22 (Over 30 years of schooling for three PhDs in the span of around 10 years, wowza).

Someone as smart as Spencer would’ve definitely gotten a 36 on the ACTs, so prestigious universities would be banging down his door to get their hands on his geniusness. BUT, Spencer loves his mom, and he wouldn’t want to stray too far from her. He also says he was drawn to Caltech because of certain professors in an article written about him.

We know that Spencer went to Caltech and would bike to classes and such. He was most likely able to stay at the dorms for free and given financial support from his scholarships. It is unclear how Spencer could’ve balanced having his mom in Nevada while he was in California, but there are buses and public transit to and from Las Vegas to Pasadena (ranging from 4-7 hours for a one way ride, so 8-14 hours round trip). William Reid, despite leaving Spencer and Diana, most likely maintained providing money to them due to paternal obligation and guilt.

There are, of course, ways for Spencer to care for his mom even all the way in Pasadena: Neighbors could’ve checked on Diana regularly/daily, Spencer could’ve called daily to remind her to take her medicine, etc.

To make Spencer going to both Caltech and MIT make sense, I figure Spencer would get his PhDs in Mathematics and Chemistry from Caltech then after Diana is institutionalized Spencer enrolls in MIT for engineering. 

The University term dates are loosely based on the academic calendar they provide on their websites.

(Rough) Caltech term dates:

Spring term: April to June

Summer term: June to August

Fall term: September to December

Winter term: January to March

(Rough) MIT term dates:

Spring term: February to May

Summer term:June to August

Fall term: September to December

I know that in the U.S. you don’t have to have a Masters degree to get into the PhD program, but Spencer likes to learn and I figured he might want to get the most out of his time in college- or it might be a little contingency from the University so he’s still pacing himself and they can still see his growth and all that good stuff.

NOW ONTO THE TIMELINE.

At Caltech, Spencer would most likely have more freedom to complete his schooling faster and they would’ve worked with him to create a good plan for him to complete things at his own pace while also following whatever school protocols they have. 

Spencer stays in Pasadena from the Fall term (Begins around mid September), through the winter term, and until the end of the Spring term (Ends around end of June), he goes home to Las Vegas during the summer term and winter/spring breaks.

Beginning of Fall 1994- Starts college @ Caltech studying Mathematics– Age: 12 turning 13

End of Spring 1995- Finishes his Bachelors in Mathematics– Age: 13

Summer 1995- Home

Beginning of Fall 1995- Starts Masters in Mathematics– Age: 13 turning 14

End of Spring 1996- Finishes Masters in Mathematics– Age: 14

Summer 1996- Home

Beginning of Fall 1996- Starts PhD in Mathematics & starts Bachelors in Chemistry– Age:14 turning 15

End of Spring 1997- Finishes Bachelors in Chemistry– Age: 15

Summer 1997- Home

Beginning of Fall 1997- Starts Masters in Chemistry– Age: 15 turning 16

End of Spring 1998- Finishes PhD in Mathematics & finishes Masters in Chemistry– Age: 16

Summer 1998- Home, Diana suffers a bout of bad psychosis and Spencer cannot return full time at Caltech during the Fall term. Due to his mother’s condition, Spencer contacts the school board and they work out a plan where Spencer can work on his Chemistry PhD in Las Vegas with the use of public Library computers and occasional trips to the campus for exams if possible. 

Beginning of Fall 1998- Works on his PhD in Chemistry, living in Las Vegas– Age: 16 turning 17

Spring 1999- Works on his PhD in Chemistry, living in Las Vegas– Age: 17

End of Summer 1999- Finishes PhD in Chemistry, living in Las Vegas– Age: 17

Spencer starts making arrangements to move Diana into a facility when he turns 18. He also applies to MIT to start their engineering program, manages to work out a plan to enroll in their Fall term but only move to a dorm at MIT after he gets his mom institutionalized (around October/November 1999)

Beginning of Fall 1999- Enrolls in MIT’s fall term on scholarship, starts Bachelors in Engineering– Age: 18

End of Spring 2000- Finishes Bachelors in Engineering– Age: 18

Beginning of Summer 2000- Starts Masters in Engineering– Age: 18

End of Fall 2000- Finishes Masters in Engineering– Age: 18 turning 19

Beginning of Spring 2001- Starts PhD in Engineering– Age: 19

Summer 2001- Works on PhD in Engineering– Age: 19

Fall 2001- Works on PhD in Engineering– Age: 19 turning 20

Feeling immense guilt for having his mother institutionalized, Spencer splits his attention between his Engineering studies and studying Schizophrenia independently. At the end of the Fall term at MIT, Spencer starts corresponding with a professor at Harvard University and is invited to help with a study on understanding Schizophrenia and the effects of different medications. He takes off both the Spring and Summer terms of 2002 in order to do said study.

Beginning of Spring 2002- Independent study– Age: 20

End of Summer 2002- Independent study– Age: 20

Beginning of Fall 2002- Resumes working on PhD in Engineering– Age: 20 turning 21

End of Spring 2003- Finishes PhD in Engineering– Age: 21

Beginning of Fall 2003- Starts Bachelors in Psychology at MIT– Age: 21 turning 22

Spencer goes to a seminar hosted by the BAU (Most likely with Gideon and Hotch), he’s very engaged and vocal during the seminar and catches Gideon’s attention.

Spring 2004- Spencer starts at the FBI academy– Age: 22

FBI academy is 4 months.

Summer 2004- Spencer joins the BAU after graduating from the academy– Age: 22

After joining the BAU, Spencer transfers his credit hours from MIT to a University in Washington D.C. to continue going to school part time.

End of Fall 2004- Finishes Bachelors in Psychology– Age: 22 turning 23

Most of Spencer’s attention is on his work in the BAU, so he slows way down on getting his degrees, and gets a degree in sociology both because it interests him and also because it’ll help with work.

Beginning of Spring 2005- Starts Bachelors in Sociology– Age: 23

End of Fall 2005- Finishes Bachelors in Sociology– Age: 23 turning 24

Beginning of Spring 2008- Starts Bachelors in Philosophy– Age: 26

End of Fall 2008- FInishes Bachelors in Philosophy– Age: 26 turning 27

Again: Breen Frazier has said that the line in 07.04 “Painless” about Spencer going to MIT was an error. I actually think it might be another way to show Spencer’s guilt over putting his mom in the psychiatric hospital- being so close without visiting might’ve made him feel even worse so he wanted to run away to a school across the country. 

Also I feel like Spencer having all these degrees shows that he didn’t really know what he was supposed to do with his intellect so he was just doing whatever interested him at the time until he met Gideon.

We are shown two articles (that I can remember) about Spencer college time frame:

There's one from 1997/1998, we are shown an article written about Spencer getting a Bachelor's degree, this would make him ~16. I’m not sure if it lists that it’s his first Bachelor’s degree- but I’m going to say that it’s just about the one he got for Chemistry which was his second Bachelors based on my timeline.

I don’t think it makes sense for Spencer to have done ~3/4 years of college before getting his first bachelors and then the other 6 or so years cramming the rest of his schooling? Eh, I don’t like it.

And there’s one in 04.08 “Memoriam” we are shown an article about Spencer receiving his first PhD at the age of 17. In my timeline he finishes his first PhD at the age of 16- which isn’t too far off so I’m choosing to believe that it’s a typo in the article (I know it’s kinda cheating but whatever).  

I had his PhD programs take around 2 years to complete because research and dissertations take time, no matter how speedy Spencer is.

If Spencer wanted to make any extra cash on the side, he could help with tutoring, work at the campus library, help coach any collegiate sports teams at the college, etc.

A lot of the things I added in this are just things that I thought of and don’t have any sources from the show (ex: Spencer doing school from home to help his mom, and the independent study thing from Spring 2002 to Summer 2002).

Again: a lot of this may be inaccurate, if there is anything you want to add or correct, feel free to do so. I spent only around 5 or so hours on this, it’s not perfect.

I love Spencer Reid. Thank you for coming to my TED talk. 

(if anyone is curious about how I write Spencer, my writing blog is @deepcreekvultures-writing )

[octuscle]

I'm tired of being fat and dateless can you make me a hairy muscle freak who likes having his snake drained if you get what I mean

I'm tired of being fat and dateless, can you make me a hairy muscle freak who likes his snake emptied, if you know what I mean

Well, you're not exactly the catch of the day… Well beyond 300 pounds. It's amazing that you made it to the age of 55 with your blood values. You look much older with your bad skin. Yes, you won't get a date like that… But I'll see what we can do for you.

It's not easy for you to get out of bed in the morning. Neither is taking a shower. You struggle into your jogging suit and sit down at your computer with a box of donuts. Before the pandemic, you were sometimes still in the office. Since then, you've only been able to work from home. You rarely leave the house anymore. What's the point? You take a break after two hours. Dealing with suspected money laundering cases is an annoying job. You drink a large glass of water with a shot of grapefruit juice. And do a few squats and a few press-ups. You've been trying hard to lose weight for two years. You've already lost many kilograms. But the flaps of skin that now hang from your tits and hips are an expensive price to pay. But you feel better for it. But now back to the computer. You get paid by the case.

You have a lunch break with friends. At a vegetarian restaurant a quarter of an hour away. It's raining and at first you wanted to go by car. But you're not a wimp and any exercise is good. So you take the bike. Yes, you look anything but sexy in those rain overalls. But you enjoy the looks when you take it off. You've been training hard and eating healthily for five years. You look quite respectable for a man of 50, even if the sins of the first 45 years of your life still show. But now you don't need to hide among colleagues who are sometimes 15 or even 20 years younger. The food is delicious and it's fun to chat with your colleagues, who you meet far too rarely in the office. It's not easy to lead a team that only works from home. Okay, you're not a good example today, but you try to be in the office as often as possible. If only because you enjoy the bike ride. And because it's close to the swimming pool.

The lunch break took a long time. The afternoon was short. Nevertheless, you finish work at 18:00. You have HIIT at 19:00. At 44, you are one of the oldest participants. But you easily outperform some much younger ones. Your job has been your life for eleven years. But sport is your passion. Giving your all during the day and even more in the evening is your motto. When the course ends at 8 p.m., most of the participants are panting and crawling into the shower more than they are walking. You hit the weights again.

At 11pm, Mike, the gym manager, switches on the emergency lights and turns off the music. Your signal that it's time to end the workout. You are once again the last one on the training area. You pull your T-shirt over your head, drop your pants and post up in front of the mirror. Not too bad for a man in his early 40s. Mike approaches you from behind, hugs you and grabs your nipples. Damn, this guy knows exactly where your on switch is. You're actually a disciplined nerd. But for once you give up an hour of your precious sleep for a good fuck. And if you spend the night at Mike's, you also save yourself the trip to the morning gym before work. So you fuck another round straight away.

Amazing pic found @rickmuscleguy

[op81s]

the one comment that will always piss me off more than any other, especially when it's coming from so-called legitimate fucking journalists, is the argument that lance doesn't deserve to be in formula 1 because he doesn't care. which first of all, i'm sorry, i didn't realise we had created mind reading technology, that small bit of news must have slipped past me. secondly, it's clearly bullshit.

two weeks before the bahrain gp last year lance had a biking accident where he suffered a fracture and displacement in his right wrist, a fracture in his left wrist, a partial fracture in his left hand and another fracture in the big toe on his right foot.

after which he was told he would be missing the first few races of the 2023 season. but 48 hours after his accident he had surgery to insert pins in his right wrist to help it heal and the doctor who did the surgery told him that with some luck and dedication to his rehab, he could be back for jeddah, maybe bahrain if he worked hard. he clearly wanted to race because 14 days later, he was back in that car in time for the bahrain gp and ended up placing p6 despite being in tremendous pain and feeling like his "wrists were on fire".

does that genuinely sound like someone who doesn't care about the sport to you? especially, as all the lance haters likes to point out, he's fucking rich and doesn't actually need to race. he could have waited until baku like his doctor first suggested and saved himself a whole lot of pain but he wants to race just as much as the other 19 drivers on the grid. the difference between him and the other drivers isn't the fact that he cares less, it's the fact that yes, he is very rich and as such can choose to not cater to the whims of the media if he doesn't want to. the suggestion that him being disinterested in doing interviews is because he doesn't care rather than because he's a private person is just so fucking dumb.

[steddieas-shegoes]

take my hand, we'll make it i swear

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is a hand reaching out'

rated m | 2,343 words | cw: blood, injury, temporary character death, nightmares | tags: coming back barely right, post-vecna, realizing feelings, getting together

🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻

Hawkins has been torn apart for eight days. Eddie's been dead for eight days.

Everyone's been mourning for eight days.

A week doesn't seem like a long time until you're in the throes of the world ending and a group of teenagers mourning one of their friends. A week starts to feel like a year when all you've done is cry and hope for any other ending than the one you got.

Steve was just trying to be there for them, be there for the people who didn't run from Hawkins, and somehow still take care of himself. It wasn't going well.

He'd barely slept more than a few hours at a time, and that sleep was anything but restful, nightmares invading his mind from the moment he closed his eyes to the time he woke up in a cold sweat with gory images seared into his brain.

One in particular had happened three times in a row now: Steve was walking in the Upside Down, searching for something but he didn't know what. He'd be surrounded by demodogs and demobats, but none would attack him. He'd keep walking and walking, yelling something he was unable to decipher. Eventually, he'd see a hand sticking out of the ground. A very recognizable hand, one that he'd last seen covered in blood, his rings no longer a shiny metallic, but a dirty and dull gray. When he tried to reach for the hand, it disappeared. He woke up.

And then he pretended he hadn't just had a nightmare about Eddie.

Robin saw through it. She made him talk about it, said the only way to get through it was to talk and actually receive comfort.

But so far, it wasn't helping.

The nightmares got worse.

By day 12, he was convinced Vecna had managed to get into his head.

By day 18, he was so sleep deprived, he started sleep walking. Robin insisted on staying with him to make sure he didn't try to drive or walk into the road or something.

It was bad.

And then suddenly, on day 19, they just. Stopped.

He didn't dream at all. In fact, he slept for nearly seven hours with no movement at all.

Robin figured maybe his body was just so exhausted, it finally gave up on torturing him. He figured she might be right.

But on day 20, things got weird.

He was awake, he knew he was.

He was sitting in his car with the radio on low, staring out at the only place not touched by Vecna and the Upside Down: the quarry.

It was quiet other than the radio, which is why he jumped when the radio suddenly flipped to a different station. White noise filled the car as he tried to put it back to his usual station, but then the car just...shut off.

His keys were still in the ignition, but the car wasn't running.

A technical problem was the last thing he needed right now; All the mechanics had left town and he wasn't very handy with anything except changing a tire.

But then it started up again, the radio on the right station, and nothing seemed to sound or look wrong.

"Okay then," Steve said to himself. He gave it a minute to make sure it wouldn't shut off again before putting it in reverse and leaving the parking area. He could try to take a look at it at home.

But when he got home, Dustin and Mike were in his driveway waiting for him, pacing, looking far too worried.

"Where've you been?" Mike asked.

"We've tried to get you on the walkie for an hour!" Dustin whined.

"I was busy," Steve said. "What's wrong? Is everyone okay?"

"El said she felt something," Mike spit out. "She said it's not Vecna, but it's powerful, or at least seems to be."

"Mindflayer?" Steve asked.

"Don't think so. Will didn't feel it."

Steve gestured for them to throw their bikes into his trunk so they could go back to El and find out more of what was going on. He decided not to say anything about the weird incident with his radio for now, wanting to hear what El suspected about things before he worried people for no reason.

When they got to Hopper's cabin, still in quite a bit of disrepair, but livable, El was drinking a glass of water on the couch, pale and eyes constantly moving from person to person.

"Sorry, we had to wait on Steve to get back from whatever he was doing," Mike rolled his eyes as he sat next to El and reached for her hand.

"It is Eddie."

The room was silent as everyone processed what El said.

"It can't be," Hopper said, though softer than he would normally. He knew the kids were still having a hard time. "Steve checked his pulse. Nancy checked his pulse. He lost so much blood. It's-"

"You know better than to say impossible," Joyce spoke up from her spot next to Will. "With everything we've seen, impossible is an impossible word."

"But he wouldn't be human if he was alive. And we couldn't really know if he was on our side," Hopper said to her. "We can't trust anything that comes out of that place, even if they have the face of our friends."

"So you do not trust me?" El asked.

"Or me?" Will asked.

Hopper sighed. "No, that's different."

"It's not that different," Will said. "I was down there for a week and everyone thought I was dead. We all know I have a connection to the place. Eddie may just be like me."

El suddenly stood. "We must go to him. He needs our help."

"El-"

"I am going. Steve?"

Everyone's eyes shot to him, his face turning a bright red.

"You have seen him in your dreams. You know where to find him."

"Uh..."

"You can take me and Hopper to him. I can't see him, I can only sense him."

"Uh." Robin shoved at his shoulder. "Okay, yeah. I can try. But they were just dreams. They might be wrong."

"They are not wrong."

So, despite Steve's promise to himself that he would never go back into the Upside Down without the help of the entire military, Steve held his bat in one hand and El's hand in the other while Hopper walked behind them with a flamethrower ready to go.

He didn't think about where he was going, he just walked.

They had a walkie with them for communication, but told everyone to stay silent unless there was an emergency topside. El assured them there wouldn't be, but she wasn't always right.

Steve felt goosebumps on his skin as they approached a more dense wooded area. If you looked hard enough, you could see the trailer through the trees, but it was unrecognizable, somehow even more dilapidated and gross than the last time they were down here.

El squeezed his hand, but nobody spoke.

They walked further.

It started to feel like one of his nightmares, the darkness and thickness in the air starting to weigh heavy on his chest.

But a small movement caught his eye, and before he could even think it through, he pulled away from El and ran towards it.

A hand.

It was his hand.

Eddie's hand was reaching over a fallen tree, just as bloody and dirty as Steve's nightmares showed.

God, why hadn't he said something to El? Why had he thought they were only nightmares? He knew better.

"Eddie!" Steve said as he cleared the trunk of the tree, nearly landing on Eddie's body. "Shit, Eddie. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Steve wasn't think about this being a trap, wouldn't even care if it was. It was Eddie. He was alive, or at least a form of alive that they could get him out of there, and that was the only positive thing that happened for weeks now.

"Steve." Hopper's voice was right behind him, and El was standing just on the other side of the tree. "Back up. He could be dangerous."

"Shut up! He's barely alive, Hop! He needs help."

Steve was working quickly to check over where the injuries looked the worst. But everything seemed healed, all the blood on him dried and some of the smaller bites already scarring over. But he looked incredibly thin, dangerously thin, and there were dark circles under his eyes as his hand started to reach for Steve shakily.

Steve grabbed it, didn't want him doing more than he could handle. "It's okay. You're okay. We're taking you home, okay? I'm not letting you die here again."

"Didn't die the first time, Stevie," he whispered, his lips curling into a smirk.

Steve let out a disbelieving laugh that tried so hard to be a sob. "I guess not, huh?"

"Don't know if I can walk," Eddie said.

Steve looked to Hopper, who gave one small nod.

He turned back to Eddie. "Anything bleeding?"

"No."

"This probably won't be fun."

"What-"

But Steve's arms were under him, lifting him, carrying him before he could finish his question.

"Didn't think you'd sweep me off my feet like this," Eddie joked breathlessly.

"How else would I have?" Steve played along.

Or maybe he wasn't playing. Maybe the reason he couldn't get Eddie out of his head even in his sleep was because there was a connection. Maybe he was here because he actually cared about Eddie, not about the way the kids mourned him. Maybe Robin was right about expanding his horizons.

"I dunno. Kinda figured I'd actually die before you got here."

"What do you mean?"

"Did you see me in dreams?"

El was following right behind them, probably listening to everything. Steve nodded as he kept walking the way they came.

"I felt this pull. I dunno how to explain it, man." Eddie coughed and it wracked through his entire body, almost causing Steve to lose his balance. "Sorry. Um, but like, I kept seeing flashes of you. Not anyone else. Just you. And if I thought about you hard enough, I could almost like...sense you?"

"Me? Why me?" Steve looked to El for an explanation.

"I do not know," she replied.

"I thought I was just crazy. Like, the crush I had on you shouldn't be enough to cause this."

"You had a crush on me?"

"Have, present tense, Stevie. Kinda hard not to when you're carrying me out of here like a bride on her wedding day," Eddie's eyes closed as they got closer to the gate in the road they used before. It was the only one marked safe by the entire group. "Hurts."

"What hurts?" Steve ignored everything else for now.

"Everything."

"I'll fix it, okay? Just a bit longer."

Eddie passed out less than a minute later after a whine left his mouth and his hand curled into Steve's shirt against his chest.

******

When he woke up again, Eddie was certain he died for real.

20 days in an alternate dimension puts things into a different perspective.

Steve Harrington was next to him, in a large bed, a bed that was definitely not his in a home that was not his. He wasn't in a hospital, at least not the one in Hawkins.

"Shit, Eds. Hi. Hey." Steve scrambled to sit up as quickly and carefully as possible. "How are you? I mean, obviously not great, but like, does anything hurt more than anything else? Are you bleeding? Shit, I was supposed to check while you slept and didn't."

"Steve. Jesus, man, it's okay." Eddie huffed a laugh. "I feel better than I have in a while."

"Good. That's probably the fluids and drugs we've been pumping into you for two days," Steve smiled apologetically at him, like he had to apologize for taking care of him. "You were out of it when we made it back. Hopper made the kids leave."

"Did I say something?" Eddie had no memory of getting back to... "Where are we?"

"Oh, this is my house. Safest place for you right now. Close enough to everyone if there's an emergency, but far away from where most people who stuck around Hawkins are living that no one will see you." Steve shrugged. "Joyce comes three times a day to check on you. I stick around the rest of the time."

"You've been here for almost two full days just...watching me?" Eddie should be uncomfortable with that, at least a little. But he should be a lot of things that he isn't.

"Making sure you don't die, mostly. Keeping the IV fluids switched around at night. Um, changing the bag," Steve looked down at his lap, face bright red.

Eddie realized exactly what he was talking about the moment he moved. "Jesus Christ. You've changed my pee bags? Just let me die. I can't go on like this."

Steve giggled. "It's not a big deal, Eds. Just part of taking care of you right now. Since you're awake, maybe Joyce can get rid of that on her next visit."

"Maybe she would do me the honor of killing me so I don't die of embarrassment."

"Eddie-"

Something about Steve's voice made him look up.

He reached his hand towards Steve's, suddenly not caring about the embarrassment at all.

"Steve, I'm okay. I promise. My pride may be wounded, but I will survive," Eddie said quietly. "You got me out of there. You did what I needed you to do. You did good."

It was easy to hold hands for the next hour while Steve caught him up on what happened.

It was easy to hold hands when Joyce came by and Eddie experienced more embarrassment at the realization of what she'd have to do to remove the pee bag.

It was even easier to hold hands as they both fell asleep in Steve's bed, finally finding rest without nightmares and without the threat of the Upside Down immediately surrounding them.

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 771: A new gear!!

Pag 1

1: This is the fight's gong!!

Pag 2

1: Ohuruaaaagh!!

Pag 3

1: Buooooogh

2: The lead is here, two people!!

3: Sohoku and Hakogaku!!

So the ones who are aiming for the sprint line on the first day of the Inter High…. Those two…

4: are the same two people from last year!!

5: Huh waa

There are still almost 3km until the sprint line, but …

Pag 4

1: They're accelerating like they're right before the sprint line!!

Ruaaagh

Oooooogh

2: They're so fast!

How many kilometers per hours are they going at!?

A bike can go at that speed!?

3: But those two….

Was it my imagination?

Pag 5

1: They were smiling!!

2: Hahaha, not bad, San-na!!

You're keeping up with my acceleration!!

Keeping up!? With your acceleration!?

Buah!!

Oi oi, that's-

Pag 6

1: My line!! Orange!!

Honestly, I'm surprised!!

2: I'm number 4, the ace climber, and I'm a Hakogaku third year

Honestly, during the last year both my power and my acceleration 

3: have increased by several steps!!

4: Is that so!!

5: There are practically no sprinters within the club who can keep up with me!!

6: But you did

You didn't just stick to me from behind, you lined up!!

What does it mean!! It makes the corners of my mouth turn up!!

Pag 7

1: Hahaha that's because

2: He's shooting ahead!!

3: I'm a genius!!

5: Nice acceleration!!

Pag 8

1: Orange!!

2: The speed of your attack, your acceleration power and the lack of hesitation when taking the curve!!

Hahaha

Pag 9

1: It's really like you said, you definitely powered up!!

You got stronger since last year!!

4: Even while taking a curve in an unsteady position, with my shoulder hitting against yours.......

5: What's wrong, San-na, what's this

6: Are you about to say something secret you can't let the spectators hear?

Pag 10

1: you counter it firmly with the trunk of your body!!

2: Didn't they just make contact with each other while taking the curve!?

Waaaa

Sohoku's number 4 pushed back that huge guy from Hakogaku with his hips!!

3: Buah!!

You're the only one

4: You're the only one who can make me shake like this!!

Pag 11

2: They hit each other again!! It's a super close combat!!

So what’s the deal with all your banging around since earlier, then?

Ah, that?

3: Is this a request?

You mean you want me to show you

Pag 12

1: the true essence of my special explosive acceleration!?

Okay then, watch closely!!

4: His movements are so fast!!

5: This my Special Highstone

Pag 13

1: Hyper acceleration!!

Pag 14

1: He left me before my own eyes!!

Is this guy for real!?

Dammit!!

2: This is fun!!

3: Are you surprised, San-na? Hahaha

Until last year, I accelerated with the image

4: of a gear going into place

Get in

Get in

Get in

Pag 15

1: But now I've come to the point that I can freely make it go into place matching my own timing!!

4: The number of gears I've prepared is

5: “Number”!?

6: The first one is “white”

7: The second one is “shironeri*”

8: The third one is “pale yellow”

9: The fourth one is “gamboge*”

The fifth one is “orange”

(*NdT.: all the names are colors, these ones are Japanese traditional colors)

Pag 16

1: All together there are six levels!!

This year I divided my acceleration in six stages!!

2: Six stages!!

Seriously!?

Pag 17

1: And by the way, my acceleration from earlier was “unbleached silk” the second stage

2: Did it feel fast!?

3: Naturally, once we get before the sprint line I'll use

4: the sixth one, “golden yellow”!!

Pag 18

3: Dammit

4: So there's also things like this in the Inter High

Seriously?

5: Now I understand the reason for our hard practice and for the harshness of training camp

Without that I wouldn't have been able to fight on this stage

Pag 19

1: Issa and Doubashi..... just when I thought the sprint fight was narrowed down to those two.....

2: Another person comes chasing!!

3: Did he break away from the pack behind and got here!? He wasn't there with us earlier!!

In such a short time he shook everyone off and chased us!?

4: Even though I've been pedaling at full throttle since earlier, he keeps getting closer!!

5: So there's also things like this!? At the Inter High!!

Pag 20

1: It's filled with monsters!!

Hayaaaa

2: But that's fine by me

I thought my part was over....

But there's still work left to do!! I won't let this guy get to the lead!!

[formulapookie]

🩵❤️

Torino capitale peccocele, 2.5k words

Cele comes hug him after his win, he’s still on the bike, Cele still shining from his victory, he looks so happy, he deserved it so much, coming back after two weeks spent being declared unfit, a really badly place plaque in his collarbone, and a breathtaking quali, the win was his already, and the amazing start he pulled just confirmed it.

Cele looks at him with pride, yells “Bravo” and another string of words he doesn’t really understand, too focused on the feeling of the arms he’s come to call home wrapped around him, focused on Cele’s laughter and his black curls escaping the containment of the cap, he smiles back, they look at each other, then Pecco rides to Parc Fermé.

He’s happy for the win, of course he fucking is, 10 victories in 19 races, he holds up both hands to show it, smiling under the helmet, but the other thought starts settling in.

Minus 24. Minus 24. Minus 24.

He is 24 points behind Jorge. It’s almost impossible for him to win it this year. What a fucking joke really, 10 wins out of 19 races and he’s loosing the Championship.

Mathematically, he’s still in for the fight, but realistically? He lost it. He knows Jorge won’t make a mistake, he knows that even if he wins he will not achieve the Championship. And if he does achieve it, it’s because of Jorge’s mistakes, not because he did something brilliant. That’s what’s running around his head, when people hug him, tell him he’s great, a Champion in their heart.

Everything following is something he does almost robotically, talking to Jorge, taking the Valencia flag, walking to the podium, then trophy, anthem picture, no champagne, another pic, down the podium and media duties.

On SkyItalia they ask him if he would cancel the Sprint Races for the following year, of course he would, and he says that, loud and clear, he tries to hold up a mask, something, because inside he’s just empty now, an empty shell with bones, but he has to speak, and bones don’t speak, so he forces out a polite smile, a polite answer, analyzes the fight, then he goes.

And he’s back to being a sack of bones.

The walk to his motorhome is strangely quiet, both outside and inside his mind, he doesn’t even have the strength to hate himself for losing.

He just wants his space, wants to go back home, to the person he calls home, he needs to be with Cele, alone, far from everyone, feel his heartbeat and his presence.

He doesn’t want to call him tho, he doesn’t want to bother, because no matter how many times the boy tells him he could never bother him by calling he’s scared he would, because Cele won, and he has to be happy about it, after the injury most of all, and his negativity won’t do him any good.

But when he enters his rider’s room Cele is there, sitting on a chair waiting for him, and the brightest smile appears on his face when he sees Pecco. He gets up and goes to hug him, tight, almost as if he knows he can’t hold himself up alone, he keeps telling him “bravissimo, sei stato bravissimo”, whispering it in his ear, keeping him close, and Pecco can’t hold his tears in anymore, he just goes numb in the embrace and cries quietly on Cele’s shoulder.

He spends around ten minutes there, calming down gradually as Cele strokes his back, reassuring him, calling him “campione” an awful amount of times. Cele has been out of the racing gear for hours now, and he helps Pecco change into normal clothes, a pair of shorts and an academy t-shirt.

When Cele manages to sit pecco down on the couch they’re both much more relaxed, Pecco’s head went from quiet numbness and absence of thoughts to a buzzing hive full of hateful comments towards himself, first of all for losing the Championship, and secondly for holding back Cele from going to celebrate his win.

“Celin you don’t have to stay here, you won you should go celebrate, get wasted with Bez, not here with me sulking” “Don’t give me bullshit Francesco, I’m not leaving you alone with all you have running through your head, I prefer being with you and know you’re safe rather than go get drunk with Bez and ending up throwing up in a bin somewhere in Sepang” “No Celin you have to go out and have fun not solve my issues” “Say all you want I’m not leaving you here, so hop hop let’s get to the hotel so you can rest and break away from this place ok?” “But-” “No buts, let’s go”

Pecco gets basically dragged out the garage into Cele’s rented car, who drives the short five minutes from there to the Hotel with an unusual calm, and Pecco finds himself staring at Cele’s profile, more than he usually already does, lingering on the shape on his lips and his nose, which Cele always says it’s ugly but Pecco always found to be pretty and unique, giving Cele a sort of vibe that made him look like he came straight from a 19th century painting.

They park in the reserved area and get in, avoiding fans who somehow found out where they slept and decided to camp outside to snap a pic of their favourite riders.

They get to the fourth floor and into Pecco’s room, they both prefer to be at his “place” after or before a race, it makes Pecco more relaxed and Cele feels welcomed.

They both go straight to the bed, sitting on it and Pecco curls in Cele’s arms once again, as the younger strokes his hair and kisses his forehead.

Pecco tilts his head up and locks eyes with Cele, and he slowly comes up to kiss him, like he always does, slow and gentle, and one of his hands rests on Cele’s thigh to hold himself up. Cele kisses him back, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him more against his chest.

The kiss quickly becomes more heated, Cele’s free hand going to tug at Pecco’s hair and Pecco letting out a soft moan at the action.

Cele breaks away pretty quickly tho, and Pecco fears he did something wrong, maybe Cele doesn’t want this and he’s forcing him, oh God what if he’s forcing Cele? 

“Stop thinking so loudly Pecco I can hear your thoughts, I stopped because I need to ask you something” “Ok ok” “Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of the situation and if you’re not in the mood that’s more than ok” “No no I am in the mood, are you sure you are? I know we usually - after your wins we celebrate a bit more - you know what I mean” “Yeah I do I do, I don’t care if we don’t do it like other times, slow is fine you know that”

Pecco blushes, Cele is so sweet and understanding with him he doesn’t get how someone can keep up with him and all his paranoias without getting bored at some point.

Pecco opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, then opens it again, the blush on his cheeks increasingly becoming redder.

“Can you - like can you - Celin can you top this time? I just want to get out of my head” “Of course, whatever makes you feel better amore” “Thank you”

They resume kissing, Cele takes the hem of Pecco’s shirt in his hands and pulls it up, discarding it on the floor beside the bed, doing the same with his shirt, before resuming the kiss and moving his hands to unbutton and unzip Pecco’s jeans, cupping his erection through the briefs.

“Celin”

It’s a broken plea, coming from Pecco who’s bucking his hips in Cele’s hand to try and get some pleasure, while Cele lays him down on the bed tugging down his pants and boxers, leaving him naked surrounded by soft sheets.

He gets up to grab the lube they left in the older’s backpack, coming back immediately to a whimpering Pecco who’s stroking himself in the wait, and it kinda makes him proud, how he managed to get him needy and hard in so little time.

 Cele gets on the bed, and gently opens Pecco’s legs, squirting some lube on his hand and heating it up, then slowly pushing one finger in, it’s been a while since Pecco bottomed, but he always enjoys it when the older lets go of his mental restraints and gives himself like this

Pecco whines already at the first digit, but tells him to go on, so Cele resumes his movements, pushing the finger inside until his knuckle meets the rim, then pulling out, thrusting it a few times, then adding a second finger, scissoring them to get Pecco adjusted to the stretch.

He’s a bit rushed, but the older gets it, Cele is 23, he just won and they rarely switch, so he excuses his lack of absolute control, mostly because to get out of his head he knows it’s gonna have to be the kind of sex where he melts completely, so it’s no use being fake gentle now.

When a third finger gets pushed inside Pecco grips at the sheets, parting his lips to let out a louder moan, Cele clearly aroused by the state he got Pecco in, rutting slightly against the bed.

“I’m ready Celin I’m ready”

The younger’s eyes sparkle when he hears those words, he’s getting harder every second more and rutting against the mattress is not helping in the slightest, so he sits up and unzips his jeans, tugging them off, one leg getting stuck, a string of curse words leaving his mouth before he removes his boxers as well, throwing them on the edge of the bed.

He aligns himself with Pecco’s hole and starts pushing inside, grabbing his hips with both hands to keep him still, stroking his hip bones with his thumbs.

He lets out a deep groan once he manages to get inside all the way, Pecco feels tight, not an uncomfortable kind of tight, but he needs to move or he’s pretty certain he’ll die by just staying there.

“Gonna move ok?” “Yeah do it do it”

The first thrusts are more controlled, tentative, soft almost, because despite wanting to go faster and harder Cele also wants to keep himself in check not to hurt Pecco. But the older clearly either doesn’t care or simply doesn’t feel that pain because he immediately wraps his legs around Cele’s waist and forces him to go deeper.

“Don’t hold back I want to feel you all the way” “Ok fuck you feel good” “You feel amazing”

And both are true, Cele might not be thick like Pecco, maybe just a bit longer, it’s not like they told eachother their exact lengths, and he manages to make him feel so fucking good.

As soon as his thrusts become deeper and faster Pecco is moaning, one hand gripping the sheets and the other thrown over his eyes, occasionally shifting to comb back his hair, curls falling over his forehead, sticky from the heat and uncomfortable.

Cele picks up the pace once again, Pecco’s string of thoughts getting replaced, going from words of self-despise to just pleasure. He can only think about that, how Cele feels inside him, how their moans get mixed together in the silence of the hotel room, how he can let himself be just him and not some persona for the media, how Cele cares for him.

The younger shifts a bit to get more comfortable, moving his hand to go look for the one Pecco is gripping at the sheets with, locking their fingers together, thrusting deeper, feeling Pecco squeeze his hand with force, the older’s legs pulling him even closer, tightening their grip on his waist.

He barely has manoeuvre space, but the one he has is enough to get Pecco closer with each thrust, finding his prostate takes a bit longer than he’d like, but once again, he hasn’t topped in a while and he gets overwhelmed by having Pecco in bed with him.

Sometimes he still can’t understand how he gets to have him. Like- this one right here moaning under him is a 3xMotogp world Champion, he’s now a 10 times gp winner in a single season, he’s won so many races, and he’s the one he looked up to as a kid. When he was younger he always said “I want to be like Pecco when I grow up” and now he finds himself fucking him into the mattress of a hotel in Malaysia after they both won the race and Pecco is begging for him to go harder and harder.

When he shifts his gaze from Pecco’s face to his dick he sees it basically shiny with precum, hard and red, the vein he usually passes his tongue over when he blows him being the first thing he notices.

“You’re so hot”

The only answer Pecco gets out is a moan, arching his back slightly, mouth in a perfect o shape as Cele keeps fucking him with the same intensity as before, their moans getting mixed with the sound of skin slapping.

Cele moves the hand he’s got on Pecco’s hip next to his head to lean in and make out with him, swallowing all the pretty sounds he’s making, slowly moving down, kissing his jaw, then onto his neck, leaving a few bruises he’ll watch proudly for a few days, never stopping his thrusts, because they’re both getting closer to the edge, Pecco especially, looking anything but the composed and put together version he shows media and fans.

Pecco’s free hand goes to tangle itself in Cele’s mop of hair, so unruly he found himself many times having to comb them somehow, they’re still wet now, from the race, the sweat, the heat.

They’re as messy as him, and Pecco loves to run his hands through them when they’re laying on his couch, Cele’s head on his lap as they watch a movie.

A harder thrust gets him back to the present, the feeling of Cele hovering above him, hot breath on his neck, he still smells like a race, the acrid sting of leathers and fuel on both of them, attached to their skin.

The younger almost glistens with sweat now, he looks like a vision.

Cele can’t hold on anymore, he’s so damn close, he needs to come, so he wraps a hand around Pecco’s dick, stroking it fast, not in time with his thrusts, much faster, and Pecco comes like a fucking fountain all over Cele’s hand and his own abs, as Cele thrusts a few more times before coming inside him, moaning his name directly into his ear, before pulling out and immediately laying beside Pecco, resting his head on his chest.

They’re panting hard, now the smell of sex joining the one of racing, Cele leaving kisses on Pecco’s chest, taking the older’s hand in his again, while Pecco plays with his hair as he always does. They’ll think about getting cleaned up later on, right now they just need this, a moment to themselves, to be just them, close, in the post sex haze where they feel like one and not two people, where both feel at home.

[justanothersanjilover]

One Piece Modern Gym Au Wip (Part 19)

Sanji was a little nervous, to be honest. He hadn't dated someone in what felt like forever. And even if it was easy to be around Zoro, the constant fear of doing or saying something wrong was eating him from the inside.

He breathed the cigarette smoke into the air and watched it disappear. It was the fifth cigarette in the past two hours. His nerves were on edge and he felt like falling off of it every second.

Zoro was late…almost an hour now. He didn't texted back half an hour ago and he didn't pick up the phone fifteen minutes ago. Sanji was worried. What if something happened? Something bad? He knew Zoro only had a motorbike - accidents happened quickly with a motorbike.

Or, the nasty voice inside his head whispered. Or he realized what a loser you are and dumped you.

Sanji shook his head. No! Zoro had asked him! He wouldn't do that! He wouldn't…

“Fuck it…” Sanji hung his head while turning around.

If he would be quick, he could take the next bus home in five minutes. Tears burned in his eyes as he started to walk.

“Oi! I’m here! Sanji! Wait!” A voice came from across the street.

Sanji looked up to see Zoro running toward him - completely ignoring the traffic. One car almost hit him but he could jump to the side at the last moment. Apologizing he raised his hands and flashed a quick smile to the driver before running off. Sanji almost had a heart attack watching it.

“I’m sorry!” Zoro gasped breathlessly when he came to a halt in front of Sanji. “I got lost. I took one wrong turn and then everything was a mess and then I had to park my bike three streets away…wait, did…did you cry? Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I couldn't answer the phone because then I’d have to pull over and then I’d be even later. I…”

Zoro’s rambling came to a hold when Sanji hugged him tightly. He was stunned for a second before returning the hug.

“I was worried,” Sanji mumbled. “I thought you had an accident. I…”

“I’m sorry,” Zoro mumbled again.

They stood there for several moments before Sanji took a step back and looked a little embarrassed up to Zoro.

“Should we go inside?” Zoro asked with a smile.

“Yes.”

And so they entered the aquarium behind Sanji. Zoro paid the tickets - even if Sanji insisted that he would pay, because he had choose the location. Zoro wasn't having that. He asked Sanji out, so he would pay. They settled on Zoro paying the tickets and Sanji paying their meals later.

Zoro wasn't the biggest fan of sea creatures…but seeing Sanji walking along the big water tanks was a whole other deal. And all the things he knew about the fish! There seemed to be not a single one he didn't at lest knew the name of - it was fascinating! And Zoro found himself smiling at Sanji - while he was explaining something - more often then not.

“Let’s go in there! It’s great!” Sanji almost yelled and clapped his hands.

They came to a part of the aquarium where a tunnel led through one of the water tanks. They would have to crawl in there because it was too small to stand.

“I don't know…isn’t that for children?” Zoro asked.

“No, it’s for everyone and there is a surprise in the middle of it. Come on!”

Sanji didn't wait for an answer, instead, he dropped down and entered the tunnel. Zoro braced himself and hoped he wouldn't get a panic attack. He wasn't quiet fond of small spaces and usually couldn't stand them for very long.

“Come on, Mosshead!” Sanji’s voice echoed from inside the glass tube.

Zoro huffed and got down to his knees. Sanji crawled in front of him…and if anything, that view was worth the small space that pulled on his nerves all the wrong ways. Zoro was amazed as the tunnel opened into a small dome underneath the aquarium. They had to sit a bit hunched over, but it looked absolutely beautiful! All the fish swimming over their heads. There even were different sharks! The light was amazing in this little room! All the different blues pained light and shadow on the floor and them. Sanji looked like he was in heaven. His eye sparkled like he’d never seen something more beautiful as he watched the fish above them. And Zoro would swear he had never seen something more beautiful than Sanji at that moment.

Fuelled by an feeling he couldn't quiet describe, Zoro leaned into Sanji’s space. Their lips apart just an inch…waiting if Sanji was closing the distance. It didn't happen and Zoro’s heart hammered against his chest in fear that he messed this up. But Sanji threw his arms around Zoro’s neck and laid his head on his shoulder.

“I can't just yet…” Sanji mumbled. “I’m sorry…”

“That’s fine,” Zoro carefully hugged him back. “You don't have to. I’m sorry for doing this so suddenly without any warning…”

“Don’t understand me wrong. I want to…I just…can’t…I…”

“Hey,” Zoro freed himself from Sanji’s hug and grabbed his face instead - carefully so he wouldn't hurt him. “You don't have to explain yourself if you aren't ready, okay? No means no - no matter the reason and I want you to tell me no if I’m overstepping, okay?”

Sanji swallowed visibly and then nodded. It was relieving to know that Zoro accepted his boundaries. Smiling he pushed his forehead against Zoro’s. A big shadow was swimming over them and made Sanji quickly look up. Zoro did so, too, as he saw the excitement in Sanji’s eye. A big tiger shark was right above them. Sanji lifted his hand and placed it against the glass right below the shark's belly. He smiled when the shark didn't move but instead kept floating above them.

“They can sense this,” Sanji whispered so as not to scare the animal. “They know exactly where they’d be touched if you touch the glass right below or in front of them. It’s incredible! Has something to do with the way they take in electromagnetic waves or something like that - I haven't read about it in quite some time…can’t remember the details right now.”

“That’s fascinating,” Zoro said, smiling warmly at Sanji.

“It is! Actually…” And then Sanji proceeded to explain basic shark biology to Zoro over the next half an hour.

Zoro listened closely and asked some questions. It was beautiful to see Sanji losing himself in something he was interested in. And the way he talked, with his hand underlining every word, Zoro believed he hadn’t talked to someone about this in quiet some time. That, in return, made Zoro a bit sad. Sanji could explain this so well and it was so wonderful to listen to his raspy smoker voice explaining how gills work! He could just say random numbers and Zoro would listen to him transfixed.

But the rambling ended abruptly with a mumbled “I’m sorry.” from Sanji. He looked a bit shocked. It was like he just realized that he had talked for half an hour without considering that it might be boring to others.

“Why?” Zoro raised an eyebrow.

Sanji let his arm sink and looked to the floor.

“I…just…I didn't want to ramble on. You probably don't even want to listen to all of this. You can stop me, if I get out of hand with my blabbering.”

“Hell no! I love listening to you explain things! What do you think why I always ask about the food you make at the Gym or the drinks? And hearing everything you know about those fish is great! Seriously, I’ve learned much more today than all the years in biology class!”

Sanji looked up again, this time surprised.

“For real?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry if someone made you think your interests are annoying to others. I wouldn't mind it if you told me all about it.”

Now, Sanji launched forward, hugging Zoro tightly again. Zoro felt how he breathed deeply a few times. His arm placed itself around Sanji’s lower back, and the other hand on the back of his head.

“Thanks,” Sanji mumbled against his shoulder.

“Any time.”

And now Zoro was left with the question of who made Sanji believe he couldn't talk about his interests. Someone must have told him more than once to get such a reaction when he was told he could talk and was listened to.

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