#actually at this point i’m not even upset i’m just fucking angry

[sevikasenby]

well rip to 3 of my sevika drawings now as well 😒

[annikuh]

not the real life embargo on talking abt Panathir

[alagaisia]

This is something I learned at one of the pre-op visits for my breast reduction! My surgeon was basically I think an independent surgeon (as I guess I would imagine is common for “cosmetic”/plastic surgeons?) and she was telling us a little bit about what to do for talking to insurance about the surgery and stuff, and she mentioned that for us going through insurance it would be at a particular hospital, but she also often did surgeries where people didn’t use there insurance, and she did those at some other place, and the price she charged up front was much lower, because that was the actual cost of the surgery (and equipment and everyone’s salaries etc.) and she had to raise the ticket price significantly when people would go through insurance, because the insurance company would negotiate that price down, and then keep some of the money. (Obviously for us and many others it still worked out to be cheaper for us out of pocket to go through insurance, but the amount she made was roughly the same even though it would look like she charged thousands more for my breast reduction than for someone not using insurance)

So, when you get those bills from your insurance after a doctors visit, and there’s that little table that tells you, this is the cost of the visit, this is the discount we got you, this is how much we paid, this is how much you still have to pay?

That line about “we got you this discount” is misleading. They actually caused the provider to raise the initial cost of your care by that amount, or more, in anticipation of the insurance company refusing to pay the full amount so that they could tell you they got you a discount.

"Why does a 15-minute visit with a doctor cost 150 bucks in America???" you're gonna want to read Money-Driven Medicine, by Maggie Mahar, and probably also The Social Transformation of American Medicine, to answer that question. It is not because your doctor is a greedy bastard; your doctor does not see most of that money. It is because the system is broken to a level that is truly impressive in its dedication to making a shit ton of money for insurance company executives and shareholders.

[bulkheadbignaturals]

vent thing in tags idk

[no1ryomafan]

I’m someone who would really like to in depth criticize media I don’t like or mixed on rather than giving critics to things I do like because I feel everyone should be allow to express their dislike in something especially when they were going into WANTING to like it and/or still like some elements about it so the whole thing isn’t soured yet your still disappointed in it that you can’t consider it “good” or “I really liked it” but I’m such a coward when it comes to wanting to actually do that because I don’t want people to feel targeted if I harshly tear at it.

I’m someone who’s had to experience things I like even if I can acknowledge they’re not perfect or not for everyone be torn to shreds by people and they always have to be such assholes about it. They always have to come off so self entitled and sometimes even go harass people who are just *enjoying* it. Not defending or making an argument, legit just consuming a piece of media carefree. Even if I would try to be nicer and not say “this is trash” to write off people who do enjoy it completely, I still get worried about harshly criticizing something will make someone feel insecure about liking it because that damage has been done to me. So many things I can’t properly enjoy or talk about fully anymore because of assholes and the fear of being targeted when I didn’t fucking ASK for someone’s random opinion.

It’s so much more earth shattering when someone’s autistic because special interests mean a lot to us, they’re a core aspect of someone’s identity and us having people dismiss it or hating it is the worst feeling because we feel we can’t be accepted. We feel we annoy other people for being passionate about something that “isn’t good”. It can sometimes even kill a special interest with enough negativity surrounding it. Sure, the best thing to do is accept things you like will get hate and ignore it, but it’s so much harder when your already so sensitive to begin with…

Also some of the stuff I would wanna massively critique are obscure and I don’t wanna be known as the guy who accidentally tarnish its reputation because we are still in the era people will cancel media for stuff and I don’t wanna feed into negativity. Just wish people could be neutral and civil but alas.

[viridescent-din]

benevolence

you always imagined it your first kiss would be... softer, than it ends up being. but it’s joel. you probably should have known.

smut, 18+. age gap. joel is a grumpy old man who hates himself and reader is down bad.

~

The first time Joel kisses you, it isn’t romantic.

It’s angry - he’s angry. The clicker that just had its hands on you lies motionless a few feet away, mouth frozen in the open position it was in when Joel shot it. Joel is checking you over relentlessly for bites. He’s running his hands over your waist, flashing his light on your neck... fuck, he’s even tugging up the cuffs of your jeans to check your ankles.

“You don’t do that,” he pants, fuming once he knows you’re okay. You’re adrenalized, shaken up and not working off your best judgment. You meet Joel’s eyes.

“Don’t do what? Be on the wrong side of the room? Have the batteries run out of my flashlight? This wasn’t my fault, Joel.” Joel shakes his head, pissed, and he grips the nape of your neck. You didn’t even realize his hand is still there, sturdy and calloused. You bite your cheek. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Shut up,” Joel growls, and it makes you even more upset.

“I didn’t - stop blaming me. Stop making me feel like a dumbass, because I’m trying and I’m tired but I’m still better than half the people in the Q -”

Joel cuts you off before you can keep egging either of you on, his lips connecting with yours in a harsh and almost painful way. Your teeth clash, and Joel kisses you with so much force you almost fall, the only thing saving you being his strong arm wrapping around your back. You open your mouth, probably from shock, and Joel’s tongue does a quick sweep around the cavern when you do. Your hands fly up to Joel’s chest instinctively for balance, and you can feel his racing heartbeat under your palm. It makes you falter. You didn’t realize he was so worried.

You’re just starting to ease into it Joel stops.

His teeth catch your bottom lip as he pulls away, and you both taste blood. Joel steps away, the both of you just staring at each other, panting.

“Do you get it?” He asks, voice gruff. “Don’t fucking do that.”

You blink, years of pining and want pouring over you. You swallow, tasting just a bit of what you think is Joel.

“Yeah,” you tell him. “I get it.”

~

The second time isn’t any more passionate. It’s done to prove a point, just like the first.

You’re leaning against the counter as you drink at the bar, still trying to wrap your head around this actual town Tommy is living in. It feels so real - like the flashes of memory you have of the world before the outbreak. You’re shivering a bit, your hair still wet from the shower you took. The shower with warm water. Joel is back at the house Tommy and Maria gave you to stay in. He insisted you shower first - he wanted to make sure that if there was hot water to use up, it was you who got it. He sent you off to the bar with the promise of meeting you there soon.

You’re drinking a whiskey neat, not because you like the drink, but because it feels warm in your chest and you know Joel will finish it. You’re sipping on it as you talk to a few men that are locals. They’re a bit older than you, but definitely younger than Joel. They seem nice, better than the lecherous creeps you keep managing to find on your journey (infected or not). One of them works in the stables, taking care of the horses. You smile as you listen to him talk about them. You think you can remember a few girls in elementary school who had farms and horses before everything broke down.

A hand slides around your waist as you’re talking, and you have to crane your neck to see Joel appearing next to you. He’s much taller without a backpack: less weighed down. His shoulders are relaxed and broad. You forget how to breathe for a moment, utterly taken by him.

“Hi,” you say softly. Joel doesn’t acknowledge it. You can feel the anger permeating off him, it’s more present than the hand he has that’s now gripping your side. You blink. “Joel.”

Joel looks down at you, his eyes flickering back and forth between you and the men. He brings his free hand up to your face, cupping your jaw. This time you know, you aren’t surprised when his lips meet yours.

You’re pissed at Joel - you’re furious that he’s doing this again, touching you without any indication for months that it’s something he wants. You know Joel feels for you, but when he only confirms it so damn scarcely, it’s easy for you to doubt. You try to steel yourself, only let him in so deep, but Joel is already with you, whether he’s touching you or not. The two of you are permanently connected, just like anyone else who’s ever survived together. Despite your best efforts, you melt into him, holding onto the lapels of the jacket Joel told you he got from trading with Bill.

By the time you pull away, your potential friends are already muttering among themselves, making up excuses to leave. They exit, giving you and Joel the entirety of the counter. You shake your head, turning so you aren’t facing Joel. You give it a few minutes, then walk out in the direction of the house. You’ve barely made it out the door of the bar when Joel pulls you into the little alley next to it.

“Joel, stop. It’s snowing. I didn’t bring a coat.” Joel pulls his off, wrapping it around you. You scoff, but don’t turn it down. “Joel -”

“Didn’t want them getting the wrong idea.” He interrupts you. You stare at Joel, incredulous.

“And what wrong idea is that, Joel?” You ask, then don’t let him answer. “They were nice. Just welcoming one of the new strangers to town.”

“They weren’t just being nice.”

“Yes, Joel, they were. Have you already forgotten about that ambush that happened when we got here? This place isn’t about to let in any assholes. Not the type you’re accusing those guys of being, at least.” Joel sets his jaw, taking a step towards you. You back up as he approaches until you hit the wall of the bar. You let out a breathe, one you can see. It’s fucking cold. You don’t know how Joel isn’t shivering, his freshly showered wet hair glistening in the light of the few street lamps.

“They needed to know,” Joel says. He’s so close to you. You smell the shampoo and soap that Maria has given him, but underneath that, he’s still Joel. Musky and experienced. Territorial. You can’t help being mad at him, but you’re terrible at committing to it.

“They need to know what?” Joel doesn’t answer. He places his hands on either side of you, caging you in. He won’t look at you. You raise your arms, placing your hands on Joel’s. You slip your thumbs under the long sleeves on his shirt, rubbing at Joel’s lifeline. His lips part as he exhales. “Joel, nobody can know about this when you won’t even say anything about it to me.”

You expect Joel to fight, maybe chastise you, but he doesn’t. He slumps against you, head buried in your chest and arms wrapping around your torso in a crushing bear hug. You blink, caught off guard, but you recover quickly, throwing one hand around Joel’s shoulders and bringing the other to massage the nape of his neck. You can feel the fight leaving Joel, just for a moment. You wonder what’s softening him: the shower, the almost normal town, finding Tommy.

You.

Joel doesn’t do this. You don’t know anything about his life before the outbreak, but you know he hasn’t loved many people. He’s approaching this in all the wrong ways, but he doesn’t know any better. He has to re learn, and you have to learn for the first time.

All Joel needs right now is a little reassurance.

“Joel. Joel. Baby,” you whisper in his ear, pressing your lips to his temple. “They didn’t want anything from me. And it wouldn’t matter if they did. They’re nothing.” Joel’s fingers dig into your ribs, and you can tell you’re going to bruise. You don’t care. “They’re nothing. I don’t care about them. I don’t care about anyone here.”

You close your eyes, burying your nose in the side of Joel’s neck and inhaling. You let Joel surround you, take up all your senses. You posture up, taking Joel with you. You take his face in your hands, your lips brushing over his forehead, cheeks, nose. You kiss the patches in his beard where the hair doesn’t grow, and his eyelids when his eyes drift shut. You’re overcome with affection, the feelings you push down every time you see Joel forcing themselves up. You almost want to cry. “Joel, you’re so handsome.” Joel tenses, praise unfamiliar to him, but you watch as he forces himself not to reject it. His fingers find the loops of your jeans, pulling you flush against him so there isn’t any part of you that isn’t touching. You let him. You ask for it.

“They’re not you,” you promise him. “Nobody here will ever be you.”

~

The night at the bar doesn’t magically fix everything. But it does make it harder for you and Joel to let go of each other - metaphorically and literally - so you start to sleep with him. Every night, Joel tucks you under his arm, letting you use his steady heartbeat to fall asleep to. Every morning, you wake up with the positions reversed, cradling Joel’s head to your chest.

The first time Joel has a nightmare, you think someone (something) has broken in.

You wake up to Joel thrashing, drenching the covers in a cold sweat. You grab his shoulders and shake, putting any worries about hurting Joel aside.

“Joel,” you say, your voice shaking but firm. “Wake up. Wake up,” Joel sits up, his eyes flying open. He blinks, gathering his bearings and realizing he’s safe. You pant, reaching out to put a hand on his arm. Joel flinches, so you draw it away. “Sorry,” you apologize. Joel turns, looking at you like he didn’t realize you were there. He says your name, sounding broken.

“You’re -” he says, then pauses, trying to figure what he’s trying to say. “You’re here.” You stare at him.

“Yeah, Joel.” You say. “I’m here. I’m with you.” Joel reaches for you, tugging you close and then pressing you against the sheets. He grunts, like he’s trying to make sense of everything.

“Can I - Will you let me -” Joel searches for the words, but can’t come up with them. You just nod.

“Yes,” you tell him. “You can do whatever you need. I trust you.” Joel freezes above you, almost glaring. His hands begin to toy with the hem of your shirt, and your heart begins to pound against your rib cage.

Joel slowly pulls your shirt up, dragging his mouth over every inch of skin he reveals. His chapped lips explore every curve and softness of your belly, and when you raise your arms so he can rid you of the article of clothing completely, he does the same to your breasts. It doesn’t even feel sexual, Joel isn’t licking or biting. He’s just feeling, touching. You feel dizzy, arousal pooling between your legs. You grip the sheets between your fingers.

“I’m only good for you in here,” Joel says against your skin. It sends vibrations throughout your body, you feel his voice everywhere. You shake, but you’re not cold. He sits back on his knees to look at you, so you prop yourself up on your elbows. You blink.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you admit. Joel shakes his head.

“I’m good for you here,” he gestures to the room. “And here,” he jabs a finger to his chest, over his heart, then mirrors the action on you. It kind of hurts, but you don’t show it. “But out there? I’m not a good man,” you open your mouth to protest, but Joel shuts you down with just one look. You stay silent. “I’ve done... I’ve done some bad things. Bad enough I don’t think Tommy really wanted to see me again.” Joel shakes his head. “And I - I would do those things for you. I even want to sometimes.” Your eyes widen, and Joel sees it. He sours. “Bein’ good for you means that I’m bad for everyone else. Do you get what I’m tellin’ you?” Joel’s drawl comes out as he gets more emotional. “You need to know that. And if we’re gonna keep doing this, you need to accept it too. It might not be fair. I don’t know if it is. But this is the way things are. You understand me?”

You stare at Joel, watching him bare himself to you in a way you don’t think he’s done for anyone else in a long, long, time. You suck in a shaky breath, and swallow.

“I understand you.” You pull Joel over you, looking up at him. “I still trust you.” You tell him.

Joel lets his head drop, not letting you see him. He works his way down your chest, from your collarbone to navel until he reaches the button of your jeans. Glancing at you to tell him to stop, he strips you of the pants when you don’t. You watch as he looks at you, staring at your most intimate area, and then presses his face to the inside of your thigh. He strokes your calf.

“You don’t what you’re gettin’ yourself into.” He murmurs, almost absentmindedly.

“Yes I do,” you protest. “I’ve been with you for years, Joel. I know you as much as you’ve let me. Let me know more. Let me decide for myself.”Joel holds your gaze. You pant, throbbing. “Let me give something to you. If you don’t think I know you, or us, that’s fine. It makes me sad, but it’s fine.” Joel presses an open mouthed kiss to the meat of your thigh, and you whimper. “I know myself, though, Joel. I know what I want. It’s you. I promise. I’m trusting you, Joel. Can’t you just trust me too?”

Joel looks at you in awe, and then gives you an affectionate frown. He doesn’t say ‘okay’ or anything like that. Instead, he just ducks his head, thrusting his tongue into your sex like a starved man, and holds you down as you keen and shake.

~

Joel used to refuse to give you any sort of heightened affection, any type of intimacy. He’s getting better at that. Joel strokes your cheek when you wake up in the morning, offers you bland but hearty oatmeal when he notices you haven’t eaten. He drops to his knees the second he sees that your shoe’s come untied.

He doesn’t like it when you try to do the same. Joel’s self-hatred is so deep seated he thinks the very act of you loving him is equivalent to any act of service. When you finally convince him to let do something for him - helping him undress, washing his hair, taking his cock down your throat - you have to promise him you want it too. Only once it’s happening will Joel let himself take. He’ll stay in the shower for hours, fuck your mouth until you can’t speak.

Joel is greedy when he lets himself be. That’s why it hurts so much that he won’t have sex with you.

“It’ll change things, baby.” He tells you, trying to ease the blow. You just don’t get it.

“We’ve already changed them.” You respond, looking away. “I don’t... I don’t want to pressure you, Joel. Just tell me if that’s not what you want.”

“Hey,” Joel grips your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his. “That’s not it. Don’t you think that.” You swallow, but nod, accepting Joel’s words. He releases you, then begins petting your side. It’s spring now. Joel looks good under the morning light from the window. “You’re sweet. You couldn’t pressure me into anything.”

He’s right. Joel is his own man. His days of being easily influenced are long gone.

~

You learn to live with it, this tiny piece of rejection. You accept that there’s something about sex that’s too much for Joel. It’s strange, because it almost hurts more than it did before you and Joel got closer. Like you’re close enough to grab what you want, but can’t quite. It’s okay, though. You want him enough to accept whatever he’ll give you, and parts of Joel is better than none of him.

You wonder if the two of you have settled. You’ve been in Jackson for six months - but it feels like years. For the first time since you can remember, you’re living instead of surviving. It’s exhilarating. You and Joel are both showing signs of domesticity: the callouses on your hands have almost entirely disappeared, and Joel’s face has gotten a bit rounder. A couple extra pounds looks good on Joel. You like knowing he isn’t running himself to the bone.

With all this extra time, Joel has started taking you out of the town so you can perfect your shooting. He sets up targets, adjusts your grip, and watches you for what seems like hours. You’re getting better, but the process is painstaking. Everyone back in the QZ knew you were much more adept with a knife.

“Knife ain’t good for infected. You have to get too close.” Joel tells you, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. His hand snakes around your hip, pulling your knife from your front pocket. He tosses it to the side. “Now you don’t have a knife. Just the gun.” Joel points over your shoulder and at the target. “Shoot.”

You hit the target five times in the row.

You squeal in excitement, jumping up and down and dropping the gun. You turn around and practically jump into Joel’s arms. You’re grinning, and Joel is almost smiling, which for him is a huge victory. He cups your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone before he kisses you.

You’re still smiling into Joel’s mouth, and he’s swallowing your moans as one of his hands drops from your face to your chest. He finds the hardened bud of your nipple even over the material of your shirt - you never wear bras anymore, you haven’t felt the need since coming to Jackson - and he pinches. You whimper, pleasure shooting through your veins. Joel is hard, you can see the tent in your pants, feel it against your belly. When he breaks the kisses, Joel keeps himself pressed to you.

“I need this too, baby. I need it too.” You can hear the fight in Joel’s voice, the inner turmoil. You try to say okay, but can’t find the words.

~

Joel picks you up, throws you onto your shared bed. He’s being reckless - he literally tossed the gun on the couch in the living room. It’s not loaded, but still.

Joel stands back, breathing slightly erratic, and stares at you. He eyes you hungrily, like a starving man.

He’s about to indulge.

Joel pulls his shirt over his head, and you do the same, shimmying out of your jeans. You freeze when when Joel takes off the last item of his clothes, staring. You swallow.

Joel is beautiful.

You push yourself up, crawling to the edge of the bed. You place your hands on Joel’s sides, looking up to meet his eyes. He gives you an affectionate frown, stroking your cheek. He’s so broad. You press your lips to Joel’s collarbone, then cover him in your kisses. You kiss his neck, shoulders, chest, belly. Joel groans, his hand tangling in your hair. His cock is hard against his stomach, and you give the head a quick lick, cupping his balls. Joel’s eyes fly open, and before you even know what’s happening, he’s pressed you flat against the sheets, pinning your arms above your head.

“Don’t,” Joel warns you. “It’s been too long. And you’re -” Joel cuts himself, dragging his tongue over your throat to catch a bead of sweat. He presses his length against your hip, and you gasp. “You touch me like that again and I’ll cum.”

“Joel,” you whisper, but he just shakes his head. He holds his palm out in front of your face.

“Spit,” he commands. “You’re gonna want to make it easier on yourself, darlin.’” You take a breath, your chest brushing Joel’s. You squeeze your legs together, searching for any type of friction. Your face burns. “C’mon,” Joel says, softer this time. “I’ve seen you sweatin’ with blood caked in your hair. I’ve seen at your worst. Right now I’m seein’ you at your best.” A small smile manages to crinkle the edges of Joel’s eyes. “Nothing to be embarrassed about here.”

You blink up at Joel, and realize you feel exactly the way you always do around him: safe. Free, supported. You don’t have to worry about anything, not looking pretty or being good enough. It’s Joel.

You’re with Joel.

You spit in his hand, then watch as he strokes his cock with it. He spreads the beads of pre cum on his head down the shaft too, and then runs himself through your folds. You keen instantly, the feeling unlike anything (anything) you’ve ever felt. When Joel’s head brushes your clit, you feel like you’re dying.  He lines himself up, teasing your entrance, and when Joel slides in, he keeps a careful watch of your face for any signs of pain. He takes care of you.

Joel stays still to let you adjust, and you feel him everywhere. Your body, your brain, your heart. Joel is all encompassing. He’s inescapable.

When you give Joel a small nod, he starts to move. He thrusts in an out, setting a steady pace. You grip the muscle of his arms, arching your back to get him deeper.

“That’s it,” Joel tells you. “Good job,” you clench around him at the praise, and you think you hear Joel let out a chuckle. He keeps working you open, each thrust a bit deeper until he’s buried to the hilt. You and Joel stop, both feeling. He lets out a breath, drops his face in your shoulder. Joel pulls out, then enters you again, burying himself once more. “I missed you,” he says into your skin.

For a moment, you don’t know what Joel’s talking about. You’ve been traveling with him for years, and since living in Jackson, you’ve hardly left his side.

Then you realize this is Joel’s way of telling you you’re familiar, and part of him.

You wrap one of your arms around Joel’s shoulders, link your ankles behind his hips. You pull Joel impossibly close, so close he has to abandon his idea of rubbing his thumb over your clit. He does the same to your nipple instead, pinching and pulling and driving you closer and closer to the edge. You feel sensation building in your stomach, the edges of your vision blurring.

“Joel,” you gasp. “Joel, I think.. I think I’m close.” Joel shushes you, brushing baby hairs off your forehead.

“It’s alright baby, let it go. Let me make you feel good.” He tells you. All it takes is a few more sweet nothings before your shuddering against him, riding out your high. Joel’s eyes roll to the back of his head as you clench him impossibly tight. He curses. Without a word, Joel pulls out before he can climax inside you, spurting on both of your stomachs. He collapses next you, his hand finding yours and squeezing it.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” Joel murmurs, dragging  his lips across your knuckles. You can feel his cum begin to dry on your stomach. You hum.

“Worth it,” you manage to whisper back. “You’re worth it, Joel.”

Joel turns his head, meeting your eyes, taking in all of your sincerity. For know, he doesn’t know what to do with it. But he’ll learn.

He’ll re learn. All of this - these ideas of love and mutual partnership - he’ll make it familiar again. All so he can stay close.

[planetpedri]

Heyyyy oh my gosh I love your work so much, I was wondering if I could request a Pedri where he forgets about his plans with her and she was always understanding but with this being the fifth time, she’s over it and confronts him? Angst please!

All I ever asked — Pedri Gonzalez.

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Fem!Reader

Summary: He was late. For the fifth time that month. You’d waited in the restaurant for an hour and a half, coming up with flimsy excuses as to why your boyfriend hadn’t arrived, come to find out, he was sitting at home. The whole time. You’d had enough. Arriving home exhausted and upset, you can’t help but ask the question you’d been wondering for a while. “Do you even care?”

Word count: 920

Disclaimer/s: angst to comfort , but thats pretty much it! oh and lots of cursing..

A/N: men (forehead slap)

Leaving the restaurant, you felt embarrassed. Humiliated, even. The waitress had given you the most pitiful look as you excused yourself, leaving her a tip and apologizing profusely.

You’d finally gotten home exhausted and angry. Your heels had dug themselves into your feet, leaving a throbbing ache even as you took them off. Holding them by the tips of your fingers, you trudged your way to your bedroom.

Opening the door, your eyes land on Pedri, who was sitting comfortably in bed on his phone. Was this a sick joke?

“Hey baby—“ his voice trails off, eyes scanning your outfit curiously, “where were you?”

You scoff. This had to be a joke. “Oh, just at the restaurant, waiting for you. Because, well! We had a fucking date tonight.”

Pedri’s smile falls instantly, “oh fuck.” He mumbles, throwing the comforter off him as he moves to stand, but you raise a hand, stopping him. “Shit, i’m sorry—“

“Save your fucking apologies, Pedro.” You snap, tossing your heels off to the side before opening the closet to fish out some pajamas. “This isn’t the first time you’ve done this. Like seriously, five times in one month? Are you actually fucking kidding me.” You begin rambling off, angrily shuffling through the drawers.

Letting out an anger filled noise, you slam the drawer shut. You’d forgotten today was laundry day, so your favorite pajamas, the ones you’d been dying to change into the whole ride home, were in the washer.

Pedri watches nervously as you angrily look through the closet. He’d been so busy lately, every date you’d reminded him off, had slipped his mind. There was no excuse, he knew it. And you’d been so understanding, but tonight he knew he really fucked up.

“And! To make it worse, do you fucking know what day it is? How special of a date this is supposed to be?” You whip around, pointing a finger at him.

Your anniversary.

Pedri groans inwardly. He was such an idiot. “I’m sorry, I don’t how it slipped my mind—“

“Our anniversary, ‘slipped your mind?’” You make air quotes around it, your eyes rolling. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Eyebrows furrowing, Pedri stands from the bed. “Hey—that’s..” but he stops. He knew you’d need your space, but kicking him out of bed? Seriously?

“That’s what? What Pedro.” Your jaw tightens, using his full name just to show how pissed off you really were.

“Stop calling me that,” he sighs, taking a few steps toward you, “i’ll make it up to you.”

“Good fucking luck.” You laugh, although it’s full of spite, not humor. “You’re a real fucking dick, you know that? Four dates, and our anniversary. All forgotten. For why? I get you are busy, but am I seriously that forgettable? Do you even care?”

You seemed to have struck a nerve, because Pedri’s face hardens. “You know you aren’t, and you know I do. I—“ he closes his eyes, running a hand over it, “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m sorry, i’m sorry.”

Your lips purse and you grab a T-shirt off the rack, “whatever. I’m tired, I need to shower, and I want to go to bed. We will talk tomorrow.” You laugh, “oh, unless you forget about that too.”

Pedri says your name, almost hisses it. “I know you’re upset, but seriously? I’m trying here. It’s been a busy month, and I know that’s no excuse—but can we just talk about this like adults?”

Eyes widening, your face contorts, eye twitching. “You are such a—a man! You—“ Your voice cracks, but you suck in a long breath. You will not cry. “All I ever asked of you this whole month, is that you take me on a date.”

Pedri’s face softens and he takes the final few steps toward you, pulling you close to his chest with one hand on your lower back, the other holding your head near his heart. “I’m sorry, i’m being a dick—I am a dick.” He murmurs, placing light kisses to the top of your head.

“I love you.” He sighs out, “I love you. I—“

“I fucking get it.” You huff, eyes closing as you listen intently to his heart beat, the soft, rhythmic thumping calming you down. “You owe me big time.”

“Whatever you want, it’s yours.” He smiles, hands coming up to hold your face, “anything you want, i’ll give you. Just know, I am sorry.”

You pout, nodding. “Let’s start with you switching the loads while I shower, you’re on laundry duty for the next two months. And dishes, and cooking, and—“

“Got it! I got it!” Pedri chuckles, leaning down to place a small kiss to your lips, “i,” peck, “love,” peck, “you.” peck.

You try not to smile, you try to stay mad, you deserved to be mad. But you fail. Your cheeks pressing into Pedri’s callused palms with how wide you were smiling. “You make it so hard to be upset.”

He hums, kissing your forehead. “Good for me, honestly.”

“Whatever, i’m still pissed off. You’re lucky I love you.” You grumble, arms wrapping tightly around his waist.

“The luckiest man alive.” He agrees, squeezing you thightly. “So..” He really shouldn’t push this right now.. but he has to ask, “do I still have to sleep on the couch tonight?”

“Oh, well, yes! You’re not getting out of this unpunished.” You pull away, bopping his nose with your finger before skipping toward the bathroom.

DTS , @halfwayhearted !

[urfavlarry]

Just saw that you take SBG requests! If possible could you do a Tyler oneshot where the reader starts out as Barron’s gf (it’s not going well bc he’s a jerk). Maybe Tyler helping her out of that relationship and just fluff of him being there for her. Bonus points if reader’s in the group!

Tyler Hernández x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, toxic relationship, manipulation

genre: angst(??) but mostly fluff

A/N: hope this doesn’t look rushed lmao I tried my best :,)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You’ve been dating Barron for a few months now, you wanted to give him a chance, thinking he would be different towards someone he actually loved, or so you thought he did. It started off as a normal relationship, he was sweet, took you out on dates, but now you realize that was just a trick so he could wrap you around his finger. You tried leaving several times, but you learned from your mistakes and didn’t think it was worth the bruises you would get. You. just had to pull through! Right?

You met Ashlyn and the other after you started dating Barron. They were really hesitant to let you in the group, thinking you were just trying to lure Logan into doing things for Barron like before, but they quickly relized you weren’t the type of person to do those types of things. You were complete opposites; he was manipulative, mean, and just a total jerk, while you were kind, truthful and calm unlike Barrons short temper. Everyone in the group was questioning how you even managed to be in a relatiomship with such an idiot but you brushed off the comments and told them he was different in private, which was a lie. Well if they asked this a few months back it wouldn’t have been a lie, but I guess people like Barron fairly change quickly. It was a few weeks after you started hanging out with the group that your situation with Barron worsened. To say that he was upset you were hanging out with the group that literally BEAT UP him and his little minions was an understatement. He would start beating you, yelling at you; “Oh so I’m not enough for you you fucking whore?” “You think you can just run off and think they will solve your problems for you?” But right after he would put up this kind facade, hugging you close, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and playing with your hair; “I’m sorry love, you know I get angry.. it’s just that..” Just endless excuses that you fell for, so you stayed.

The group quickly noticed your bruised figure; “Oh I’m fine, I was playing with my brother and fell!” or “I bumped into the side of a table this morning because I was in a hurry!” Everyone seemed to believe you except Tyler. He eyes you the whole lunch break, even during class. You glance at him every now and then and your mind starts to race; “What if he knows?” You think to yourself and look at Barron who like always wasn’t paying attention at all and would ask for you to do his work for him. You roll your eyes and decide this class doesn’t deserve your attention so you lay your head down on your desk and drift off.

The sound of the bells jolts you awake and you groan, gathering your stuff and go to leave the classroom. You feel a hand on your shoulder; “Leave me al—” “Come meet me after school, i’ll be waiting in front of the gates.” You hear from behind you and recognize the voice as Tylers. You nod and leave the class immediately, praying Barron didn’t see your little interaction.

The day went by dreadfully slow and you counted down the minutes when the last bell finally rang. The hallways were crowded with angsty teens and pick me whores who couldn’t wait to get drunk on a Friday night. You push your way through the mob of people and go to the gate where Tyler said he would be. You see Barron and his minions in the crowd of people and you sprint towards Tyler, grabbing him by the wrist and pull him towards the nearby coffee shop you had near your school. After you believe your put of sight you slow down, walking in silence. “Um, you can let go now?” Tyler says, pointing to his wrist. “Oh yeah, right.. sorry.” You look away, putting your hands in your hoodies pocket. Tyler raised a brow, it was mid May and it was getting hot out, every girl at school was either in tank tops, shorts, or dresses. He pushes the thoughts aside and opens the coffee shops door, letting you in first. You sit down in one of the more secluded spots in the shop and place your bag down.

“Soo.. whats up?” You ask, ordering a refreshing drink. Tyler just looks at you, eyes furrowed and arms crossed over his chest. “I know what you told us today was just a load of bull.” He says in a stern voice, having a “if you lie to me I’ll personally jump over this table and smack you” face.

“What do you mean? Are you implying anything?” You smile innocently, fiddling with your fingers under the table. He raised a brow, and hums; “Maybe I am.” He says and stays quiet after thar, staring you down, making you shift in your seat. You clear your throat and finish your drink, standing up; “Well if you don’t wanna discuss anything, i’ll be leaving—” You get cut off by getting tugged back by your wrist. You sigh and turn around, looking down at the ground not wanting to meet his harsh stare. He sighs and lifts your chin to look up at him, his gaze softening just a bit. “Wha—” He pulls you into a hug and you freeze, the new form of affection taking you by suprise. You hesitantly hug him back, feeling a bit awkward hugging him in a coffee shop but you pushed the thought away. He grabs your wrist and pulls you from the coffee shop; “I know that relationship between you and the hijo de puta isn’t healthy hermosa.” He says letting go of your wrist, looking away from you and kicking rocks he had in his way. You sigh, contemplating if you should say anything, the things that Barron had told you haunting you everywhere you went. “I don’t know what your talking about.” You say and Tyler rolls his eyes; “Yeah right, you got that bruised cheek and eye from chasing your cousins riiight yep that explains it!” He says sarcastically and crosses his arms over his chest; “Really Y/N let me or the others help you, we aren’t blind, the others just didn’t wanna be pushy and force you to say anthing.” He says as you both walk to the park, only a few minutes away from the coffee shop.

He sits you down on the bench and towers over you, glaring right at you. “Come on we just wanna help, well at least I do, come on cariño, let me help you.” He says and sits down next to you. You look at him in disbelief, maybe you could finally get out of Barrons torturous grasp? But what if he would keep bothering you? What if he hurts your friends? Your eyes water and you hug Tyler, sobbing into his shoulder; “I’m scared Ty, I really am.” You choke on your sobs, shaking uncontrollably while Tyler rubs your back soothingly. “Aw Y/N don’t cry hermosa.. it’ll be fine.. I promise.” He says, cupping your cheeks and wipes away your tears. You smile softly, finally calming down from your little nervous breakdown. “Thanks Ty..” He nods in acknowledgment and puts an arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to him.

You rest your head on his shoulder and talk with him for what feels like hours, explaining your situation with Barron and how he has been treating you. Tyler listens, only commenting a few times since he didn’t wanna interrupt you and make you feel like he doesn’t care. Oh he did care, more than you could imagine. He’s been a bit overprotective of you since you joined the group, always protecting you from bullies you didn’t even know you had because Tyler always kept their mouths shut.

The next day you texted Barron to meet you at the school gate, which he did. “Hey babe whats up?” He smirks and wraps an arm around your shoulder. You give him a disgusted look and shake him off, stepping away and try to keep your distance from him. Tyler was watching the whole scene unfold, promising you that if things got out of hand that he would intervene. “Barron I think we should—” He cuts you off and glares at you; “Oh so that’s what this is about? We already talked about this you fucking bi—” While he was rambling, you didn’t even notice Tyler walking up to him and punching him right in the nose, an awful cracking sound being heard seconds later. “She said what she said estúpido, now leave her alone.” Tyler holds your hand in his, pulling you away from the now bleeding boy. Barron knew better then to mess with Tyler so he just cursed under his breath, leaving you alone. You walk into the boys bathroom that people rarely went to since people thought it was “haunted” and he grabs you by the shoulders looking at you with a worried expression.

“Y/N are you okay?” He asks, concern evident in his voice. You look up at him and pull him into a hug, having the biggest smile on your face. You mumble like a hundred thank you’s, and pull away from the hug. “Thank you so much Tyler, you don’t know how much you helped me.” You say and kiss his cheek. “I know this won’t make up for the problems I causes you but—” You get cut off by soft lips on yours, leaving you stunned. You close your eyes and kiss back, wrapping your arms around his neck while his arms travel down to your waist. Your lips move in sync, like you were just made for each other and pulled apart for breath. Tyler smiles down at you and kisses your forehead and smirks; “I’ll need a few more of these~” He leans down to kiss you again, a finger on his lips stopping him. “First of all, take me out on a date.” You smile innocently and head to your class, leaving Tyler to plan your date for the rest of the day.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[stars4gojo]

Oranges and Grudges

Highschool!Gojo x Gn!reader // pure fluff, early relationship, 556 words.

(not proofread😓)

Gojo Satoru is mad. It doesn’t take a genius to know that, but what the real question is why. You think to yourself as you watch him move around his dorm room at a fast pace, cleaning up the mess that’s lying on the floor. You don’t think you’ve done anything to piss him off, he didn’t mention having a fight with Suguru or Shoko because if that did happen you would never hear the end of it. So why is he grumbling to himself, refusing to make eye contact while you ate the orange on his bed that he bought for you just a while ago.

You hesitate a little but you ask him nonetheless, “Satoru are you mad?”

He immediately stops moving and stares at you blankly as you raise your eyebrows at him. 

“I don’t think I’ve done anything to make you angry, Suguru and Shoko are gone home so they can’t make you mad from that far away. We actually had a good day too, atleast that’s what I think…” You ponder to yourself out loud as he listen to you list all the possibilities. 

“So what did I do to make you upset?” You ask him again. 

He sighs deeply as he lays flat on his bed, barely missing the plate of oranges. 

“I can’t say…” he murmurs so quietly that you almost miss it. 

You furrow your brows before asking, “Well why not?” 

There’s a slight pout apparent on his lips making him look like a little boy. 

“Cus it’s embarrassing and you’re for sure going to laugh at me.” He huffs again as you put the oranges aside, grabbing his face gently.

“Promise I won’t. Just tell me, please Satoru?” You feel like a beggar at this point but there has to be a reason why he’s acting like this. 

“You didn’t…” he drifts off, avoiding eye contact now, and you raise your eyebrows at him, urging him to continue.

“You didn’t let me peel the orange for you.” As he finishes his sentence, the tip of his ears are tinted red and he’s still not looking at you. 

And you really don’t want to laugh at him, seeing how much courage it took for him to let out his feelings but you can’t hold your laughter in. The strongest sorcerer in the world is pouting because his girlfriend didn’t let him peel oranges for her! 

“See! You’re laughing at me.” His pout deepens as he swats your hands away from him. 

You compose yourself before speaking again, “I’m sorry Satoru I didn’t think you would be upset over this. You already bought me all this stuff didn’t want to bother you with something I can do myself.”  You finish as you try to make him face you again. 

“Well I’m here to take care of you, I want to do everything for you. Even if it’s something as stupid as peeling an orange for you.” He huffs out truthfully and you would be lying if you said that didn’t give you butterflies in your stomach. 

“Alright Satoru, how about you peel the other orange for me ‘m still hungry y’know.” You chuckle lightly, stroking his cheek. 

“Yeah I’ll peel the other orange and every other fucking orange in the world for you from now on.”  He grumbles out begrudgingly, eliciting a loud laugh out of you. 

Masterlist

[watchyourbuck]

I really wanted to NOT analyze this scene bc it’s been done so many times but I’m a public menace, so

Buck and Eddie and Chris are at Buck’s loft, after a mission and a less than pleasant conversation w Bobby, and here are my thoughts:

We see Buck (who’s upset), cooking for Chris and Eddie, when — in the whole arc —, we never see him cook for Taylor (or Ali, or really, anyone else but the 118).

Recently therapied™️ Eddie doesn’t give a flying fuck about being interim captain, but has enough eyes to see Buck does. His voice softens, and he gives him foot to discuss his own feelings without hiding them bc Eddie doesn’t share them. (Bonus points bc he makes the same face he made after the lawsuit, in THE Kitchen Scene, when he tells Buck ‘not to beat himself up about it.’).

“Lucy is great– whatever-,” Buck says absentmindedly, and we get a glimpse of Eddie’s smug little face. It kind of implies he knows about the kiss, but opts to say nothing. He did, in fact, cheat on Taylor (and Chris is in the room). But the grin falls a little. Maybe he’s not so nonchalant about it, after all. Or maybe, he knows they (she and Buck) never stood a chance. He looks – relieved, almost.

Eddie feels comfortable enough to keep actually playing with his kid. Enough to win, actually. He doesn’t feel that comfortable at his parent’s house (5x17).

Buck keeps talking about this, and even if he acts like he doesn’t care (and Eddie has dealt with that sarcastic-coping-mechanism-tone Buck does one too many times), he’s visibly angry, so Eddie changes the subject. “What are you offering?”

“Right now? Bobby’s famous lasagna.” Okay, this doesn’t scream ‘I’m cooking you my family recipes’ to anyone else?

Then we have The Diaz’ compliments, which not only sound genuine, but make Buck grin. Like he did something right. Besides, it took him ‘three tries to get it right.’ Interesting, when other in the show has Buck not given up immediately after something doesn’t go his way? Surely, this had to be something he was very keen on achieving, cuz he barely cooks for himself.

Chris’ little ‘you don’t even have a couch’ is very funny to me. Because he’s a kid and he’s joking, or being smart. But Chris isn’t my focus here, it’s Eddie’s reaction. We do know kids absorb what their parents feel and say, right? Eddie laughs, so he must think alike. He looks almost drunk — all flushed cheeks, big smile, squinted eyes.

“My last two couches came with girlfriends” and the IMMEDIATE correction Eddie makes. We know Buck is at his most comfortable with the Diaz boys, so we know he’s not putting on a show. What he says – he means. Of the heart speaks the mouth. That’s how he feels about his past relationships, not the correction Eddie makes. (And if you may let me be annoying here, it’s kinda interesting, the correction. It sounds almost – hopeful. Eddie knows it’s supposed to be the way he corrects him to be, but in a way, he corrects him just to guarantee himself that that’s not what Buck meant ((and it’s not.)).

The way that Buck stops, stares and then plunges down on the chair. ‘Right,’ he thinks, ‘the girlfriends came with couches.’ Again, NOT his initial thought. He hides behind a grin.

Eddie is not careful mentioning Taylor. Buck isn’t heartbroken. He even mentions her in Chris’ presence, and we know by history they’ve always been careful. (If you ask me, that’s the reason they didn’t hook up after the ‘you wanna go for the title?’ scene).

“Maybe I don’t wanna pick the wrong couch again.” Please stay here for a second. In all objectivity we’re talking about furniture…, right? This is a three-street conversation, because Chris added himself to it, yet Buck won’t look at him. He looks at Eddie, very intently. As if… as if he’s saying something different with his words. Huh, whatever could he mean? (Faint whispers of: ‘your couch, you, I wanna pick you, I wanna pick you, pick me, too.’) And then Eddie, who is Oblivious Firefighter of the Year (awarded) brings the conversation down again to the actual topic, and Buck deflates, like his balloon has been popped. His eyes literally stop glimmering.

So, is this a conversation two best friends who are comfortable in that title would have?

[kissitbttr]

OH! but imagine riding miguel in his office likeeeeeeeeee 🤯🤯🤯🤯 his strong hands helping guide your hips and his tip is hitting that sweeeet sweeet spot in you and he’s so close. like really close.

he would literally be like “almost there mi princesa, almost almost almost—” until one of the spider people opens the door and sees y’all…

yall ovulation cycle are on the same month or what???🤨🤨

BUT HELL YEA?!

-

“come on baby, come on” he grunts against your ear as his large hands move around your soft cheeks. slapping and squeezing, encouraging you to go faster. “feels good, hm? daddy’s cock filling you up just right? such a pretty mami, look at you.”

and he means that. he wonders how the hell did he get so lucky to have an angel looking this pretty when she rides him? how did he get lucky to watch her ass moves in a way he has never seen on a girl before?

most importantly, he’s so fucking lucky that he gets to be the only man who can see you like this up close.

with a nod, you begin to snap your hips against him even harder and faster. his praises never fail to make you mewl as you feel yourself getting even wetter.

“s-so good, daddy, I-“ you cut yourself off with a yelp when he lands a hard smack on your ass. “fuck you feel so good inside me. so big i almost can’t take it”

his lips stretches into a lazy smirk, loving how you continue to feed his ego. his hand then travels upwards to softly grip around your throat, just enough to make you choke a little.

he admires the way you sound when he’s deep inside you. especially when you’re bouncing up and down on his hard shaft because it means that you get to be in control. and he has no problem with that. he loves it when you’re on top. but it’s just makes it harder for him to hold on a little longer.

“almost there mi vida” he heaves out a heavy groan, leaning his back comfortably against his office chair. “fuck, i’m gonna—“

before he gets to finish his sentence—and actually finishes inside of you—he hears the sound of his office door opens, and it’s none than other the person he despises for always seem to be invading his privacy,

“hey Miguel, I’ve got some—oh shit!” Peter shrieks when he almost got hit with a small lamp, that’s when he realizes what’s going on. his eyes go wide as his cheeks turn red. “shit shit, I’m so so-“

“get the fuck out, now!” Miguel barks at him, pointing his finger at the door looking absolutely irritated and angry that a man catches a glimpse of his girl naked. you aren’t stopping though. you continue to ride Miguel even faster and keep on moaning like a bitch in the heat.

“fucking knock, next time you piece of shit!”

feeling embarrassed, Peter only nods as he look away. “right! got it!” before he quickly shuts the door, not wanting to make the boss angry even more,

“you’re so mean, baby” you say pretending to be upset, looking down at him with heavy breathing. “he didn’t mean to see me like this.”

“you like it when I’m mean” he growls, knowing that it turns you on and it does. he reaches up to grab both of your tits, squeezing them harshly. “you’re mine and in no fucking way i am sharing”

-

[natailiatulls07]

Wholesome moments

Formula one grid & female!driver!reader

Summary - 5 wholesome moments

Warning - none tbh, happy crying?? Being drunk??

Reader drives for RedBull

-

One - Late to post race press

I was in my drivers room, relaxing after a race. Strolling through tiktok when my manager, Emma, rushs in looking annoyed. "Oh hi Emma" I offer her a small smile which seems to only annoy her more.

"What are you doing?!" Her tone angry, by now I was confused. Pointing down to my phone which had a random tiktok playing on repeat. "You have the post race press, it was meant to start ten minutes ago but their waiting on you!" It was only then when I finally looked at the time, she was right.

Jumping up from the leather sofa, rushing out of my room toward the conference room with Emma close behind. Walking in, I could see everyones eyes on me. "Hey...so sorry for my tardiness" Laughing at myself awkwardly whilst everyone soon joined in with laughter.

Sit down in my seat between Fernando and Carlos. "So tell us Y/n what was so important that time fell away from you?" Turning my head to Daniel who had a smug smile on his face.

"Well if you must know Danny, tiktok has become very addictive recently" I wore a sheepish smile on my face as the room once again erupted in laughter.

"See kids these days, hooked to their phone" Daniel replied, shaking his head knowingly. It wsm't long before the laughter died down and we started press with myself in attendance.

Two - Prankster

If there was one thing on the paddock that I was known for it would be my notorious prank on anyone and everyone. LIke one time, I posted a instagram announcing 'my retirement'. This meant that I had my phone blowing up, texts, comments, missed calls and etc. I remember about two minute after I posted the instagram, I could a call from Christian. "Hey Chris!"

"What the hell Y/n?! What is going on with your instagram post?" I had to surpress my laughter and acted somewhat sad. He sounded upset, this made me feel almost sad for him.

"Oh yeah I know that its the middle of the season but I found some thing better for myself.." It was going great, I loved it. After a few seconds of silence, he came back to his sense.

"What could you have possible found that is better than not only driving for Redbull but for formula one?!" His voice was soon becoming more and more annoyed, and what I was about to say would set him off.

It was really hard to surpress myself from laughing when I told him the 'better thing'. "Have you ever heard of dog food tasters?" One could only imagine what his head was going through.

Yet again there was a few seconds of an awakward silence, a silence to sit through and not laugh. "Y/n... you're kidding me, you're the fussiest person I have ever met! And you're going to from fucking formula one and redbull to a dog food taster... you won't even drink coffee, let alone dog food!"

I could no longer hold in my laughter, doubling over I could hear Chris questioning my laugh. "Oh my god! You actually believed me, Christian I'm not leave redbull or formula one. I just pranked you" Dead silence until I heard Christian chuckle.

“I should of known, you little prankster” Let’s just say for the rest of the day, my phone would not turn off. Nearly every other driver on the grid calling, anxiety coursing through their heads.

Three - the little weight

It was the yearly FIA prize giving ceremony, everyone swapped out of their uniforms for gowns and suits. Hair and makeup done.

Sat in the buzzing venue, the night of celebrations meant I had not kept track of the amount of alcohol I was downing. Until I was announced as rookie of the year.

Raising from my seat, I made my way to stage. The crowd were clapping and cheering, I could see the other drivers sporting proud smiles.

Arriving to the mic which sat in the middle of the stage, I was handed my trophy. “Oh wow, thank you! I would like to say that I love you all and I’m that I want to thank Alex Turner for this because he is hot!” All it was rambling, I continued to ramble until Lando stood up from his seat.

“Quick question! Y/n how many drinks have you had?” His voice contained both concerns and amusement.

Holding up my free hand with two fingers, almost proudly. This small gesture made everyone burst into a light laughter. “Oh god! You are so drunk..” Lando trailed off whilst climbing up the stairs before walking me off stage.

“Come on, I think it’s time we start getting some water down you and maybe getting you home” He continued to walk me over to the grand reception where we waited for a taxi and drank some water.

-

Waking up the next morning, I was in my bed. Looking over at my phone, I could see a text from Lando along with other notifications probably regarding last night.

‘Hey kiddo, I managed to get you back to your apartment last night. Maybe next time don’t drink as much

Lots of love your big brother’

Checking social media, I immediately got embarrassment as my drunken ramble went viral.

Four - First F1 podium

“Okay Leclerc and Hamilton have a hot 7 seconds gap between you and them, keep pushing” It was the Austrian race and I had somehow settled myself into p2.

My anxiety was on an all time high when I was racing but currently being in p2 made that anxiety worsen. “Copy..” I was focused on getting that podium.

It would be my first podium, and even if I didn’t stand in pole position I would be happy. “How many laps left?” I asked my race engineer through the radio, I wanted to finish the race as soon as possible.

“Only two laps left, you can do it!” Only two that was reassuring to say the least. I could hear crowd cheering but I didn’t let that next my focus from the p2 spot.

“One lap left! Keep pushing!” One lap. One more lap until could stand on that podium for the first time. I accelerated the car, there was no chance I would catch Max but I had to keep that distance from the Ferrari and Mercedes behind me.

“There’s the checkered flag! You can do!” I could see the line and flag waving in the distance, it was only when I crossed the line that I really let my focus go and come to the realisation that I was on the podium.

“I did it! I fucking did it! P2 baby! That’s what I like to hear!” I could my race engineer laugh at my antics of the radio, whilst also tell me that they were incredibly proud.

-

Standing on the podium, I looked over at the crowd. A large smile was planted on my face. “Kiddo you did it! You’re on the podium!” I heard Max who was of course in p1 exclaim beside me.

I was soon soaked in sweet champagne, I didn’t care if it ruined my hair. All I cared about was the position I finished today’s race with.

Five - P1…oh how I like this view

Once again I was sat in the redbull car, awaiting for my the race to begin. I was very lucky to be granted pole position in Monaco of all places. It was tense as we all waited for the five lights to flash out.

And when the did, I was off leaving the wait line in no time. Tackling every tight curve, accelerating when ever I saw someone even get close to me.

I could feel the blazing sun down on my race suit. I could smell the scent of burning rubber. I could hear crowds who had lined the tracks. I could taste the exhaust filled air. But I felt like I had gone blind, just focusing on the track and maintaining my car from any possible damage.

Whilst in pit stop, my anxiety ran through the heavens. Just wanting to get back on the track and end with my win.

I was up against some of the best of the best. And I had to hold onto the pole position, hold onto that winning position.

“Verstappen is just over 5 seconds behind you so not much of a gap, keep pushing when you can” My race engineer was aware of anxiety when it came to racing, but she was also aware of my hunger for that winning position.

“Copy, how many laps?” Once again I was twisting around the narrow corners.

“Three, if you push the gap bigger you’ll probably win!” That’s was all I needed to give me motivation to push as hard as I can.

Pressing down on the accelerator, I heard the rumbling of my car increase in sound.

-

After three agonising laps, I could see the checkered flag being waved. Tears were welling up on my waterline. It was only when I cross that finish line when I then let them fall down my cheeks.

“I did… I’m first” I whispered, so only myself and my face engineer could hear. It was barely audible over the loud crowds who were cheering me on for my first win.

-

Finally standing above the number felt great. I felt tall, empowered, unstoppable and proud. Everyone was cheering as I was handed the trophy. Off to the side were the rest of the drivers who hadn’t won podium stood smiling up at me.

I felt that familiar family love once again. I always did whether I didn’t place top ten or if I had gotten to that first place position. I would be lying if I didn’t feel that love to them in return.

[cleolinda]

I’ve read a few of the umpteen thousand upset comments about the paid Watcher service, and I’ve read comments angry about the upset comments. There’s one thing I want to point out, and it’s that this isn’t, or shouldn’t be, “You’re saying people don’t deserve to earn money for their work.”

The Watcher guys do deserve to earn money. I already give them money. I give them $5 a month on Patreon, not because I think they do or don’t give me $5 worth of media, but because I want to support them. I canceled Netflix for pissing me off with its price hike/ad tier, but I give Watcher Entertainment money.

They’re saying now that the Patreon will be solely about the podcasts, and they understand if people leave. I’m perfectly happy to switch the support I can afford to the streaming service. With the early adopter 30% discount, I’d actually save money. In fact, I tried to subscribe, but the site didn’t work.

Watcher wanting to profit from their shows isn’t the problem. It’s that they’re now discovering that their fanbase is young and broke in a terrible economy, judging by tens of thousands of comments on multiple platforms. I can throw them $5/month, so I do. But the Patreon only has (checks notes) 5874 paying followers, and there’s a reason for that. $60/year upfront would not be “accessible.” Patreon is literally patronage from the people who can afford it.

If the guys had said up front, “ONLY new shows and episodes will be exclusive to the service,” I think we’d be having a different conversation right now. But at first they did say, “We’re pulling all our content from YouTube,” to the point where Variety had to issue an update. Like, that’s in print and I’m pretty sure it was on video. Now they’ve backtracked to ONLY new etc.—but most people haven’t heard, and they feel crushed. And the trust is probably gone regardless.

So now four years of back catalogue will stay public. And now, you’re paying $6.99 a month for one episode, maybe two, of something a week, and now, not an exclusive back catalogue. I would pay for Watcher shows before I’d pay for anyone else, but I just don’t think the company is big enough yet for a SVOD at that price. They’re not Dropout size. They needed to build more programming and get a higher follower count first, or at the very least, charge less.

The international price/exchange rate situation is a nightmare and I don’t know what it is they’re not doing to make it… not… be like that.

I don’t know what they should have done instead of a full streaming service, but surely there were alternatives? I’ve seen comments from people suggesting they GET a Patreon. Lean on that more! Do the shows exclusive for a month and then let them roll onto YouTube! I don’t know! Anything but One More Fucking Streaming Service, which enraged me, and I was willing to move my support to it!

And I shouldn’t say this, but I will. In the “Goodbye YouTube” video the guys posted, they say that setting up the streaming service has allowed Steven to do a remake of Worth It where he and his cohosts travel the world and eat expensive food. This is the first new show they announce. Not “We have always been committed to diversity and we’re now able to bring on new creator(s) to expand our programming.” No, a redo of an old show that by definition has got to be expensive. Commenters are saying they can’t pay for the streaming service because they can’t make ends meet in this economy. The optics are terrible. I genuinely question what the thought process even was here.

I love the guys and I still watch their shows. I want to see Watcher succeed. I started watching Buzzfeed Unsolved in 2018 while recovering from surgery—as with a lot of people, their shows got me through a tough time. I’m as attached as anyone. If I can continue to afford monthly support—this is not a certainty—I’ll give it to them. I’m not a ~hater who doesn’t want Watcher to make money. But I am absolutely BAFFLED by every single decision here. I want them to figure out how to turn this around and go in a better direction, because right now, this ain’t it.

[leviraaaaaa]

“I hate it.”

You looked up at him, gritting your teeth through the words. You were angry, so so angry. Furious, enraged, aggravated. Who does he think he is, that fucking Jaeger?

Eren’s last letter finally came through. The one where he says he was going to raid Liberio and asked the scouts for help. Or did he? With or without help, he said. The audacity.

After all the shit you and the others had to go through, the huge reports trying to explain why he went missing, answering the higher ups about his disappearance, trying to justify it, seeking up excuses. Then he has the fucking nerve to send these letters.

You had stormed out right after Hange read out the words, not even bothering to ask to be excused. You were tired of dealing with that emo teenage brat.

But Levi gave no reaction to the sharpness of your tone, already aware of the cause of your temper. He was there in the room, his expression had tightened just as yours had. And he must’ve followed you right after.

He always does.

Without a word, he lowered himself down on the step beside you.

“This is filthy.” He scrunched his nose. “Couldn’t have found a better place?”

“I didn’t ask you to sit here.” You grumbled, rolling your eyes. You just kind of took the first isolated corner you could find. Sure, the stairs were filthy, but that was the last thing on your mind.

“Why did you follow me anyways?” You asked.

“I didn’t follow you.” Levi sighs, stretching his leg to kick a piece of rock. It flew all the way over to a wall, making soft little sounds on the pavement as it impacted. “I needed air. He pissed me off.”

You let out a noise in agreement. That’s one thing you can both agree on. Eren Jaeger was an absolute piece of shit with a talent to irritate like no other.

“Next time I’m seeing him,” You mumbled darkly. “I’m breaking a couple bones, I swear.”

“That was actually my plan, but I’d let you have the honors as well.”

“You should’ve hit him harder all those years ago, back in the courtroom.”

“Definitely.”

That made you smile.

But it was the absolute seriousness of his expression that made you crack. The stony face, with an even more stoic tone. He actually seemed to be considering the idea. As if you and him were merely discussing the weather instead of the best way to beat up an adolescent boy. Without even meaning to, you were grinning, a snort escaping you making Levi glance at you with the side of his eyes. He frowned.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are.” You smiled. “That’s why it’s funny.” Poor Eren, he’s had it coming.”

Finally, you felt the anger go down.

It’s always like that. You get angry, you get emotional, but when you turn around, Levi’s always there, in his own strange little way, a hand on your shoulder and shooting you a look. Or times like this when you’re upset and pissed, and he just sits with you and goes along with everything you say until you feel better.

You leaned back, letting yourself fall back on your arms, kicking your legs and stretching them. Your shoulders hurt from how stiff they’ve been from the tension until now. You tilted your head to look at him.

“Look at us, making plans about how to beat up a kid half our age. What have we come to?”

“Our fucking limit.” Levi grumbled, but the scowl lessened, his brows straightening slightly at your calmer tone. His own shoulders relaxed. “He deserves it at this point.”

You grinned. Sure, you can’t really hit Eren right now, but the idea does make you feel better. For the time being at least, you’ll have to cope by daydreaming.

But you were so tired, you think. Very so.

Why is it that you could never stop running?

Eren’s shit was only the least of it, but it’s been so hard. Being a scout was never supposed to be easy. But ever since Erwin and the others died, nothing's been the same. You could hardly celebrate the success at retaking wall maria when the price to pay was the blood of everyone you knew. Even witnessing the wonder that is the sea for the first time hadn’t been as thrilling as you thought, how could it when you know there’s a whole other world beyond it, and that they want you dead? Stepping in Marley and realizing all that you’ve been kept away from, a life you couldn’t even imagine. It must be nice to live without being so terrified, scared for you and scared for your friends, you had thought. Must be nice to live without having the rest of the world label you as devils and to take the peace for granted.

You wished you could just catch a fucking break. Maybe forever.

You sighed.

“Levi.”

He gave a lazy glance. “What?”

“Let’s run away.” You muttered softly under your breath. Eyes focused on the ground. “Me and you. And Hange, if they want to come.” You sighed, pausing a little. “I hate it. I hate all of it. I’m sure you do too.”

With that, you turned to look at him, right in those silver eyes of his. They looked almost blue here in the moonlight. Was it just you or was even the wind holding its breath?

“This isn’t what I signed up for Lev. I thought I was going to fight titans, not humans.”

“What..” He asked, staring at you unblinking, almost confused. And surprised. And something else you couldn’t quite place. “What are you on about?”

“So, let’s go.”

“What?”

“I’m serious. Somewhere far away. We could just get up and leave right now.”

“..now?”

Levi gaped, struggling to find something to say. Your light tone indicated that it was a joke but yet, there was something in your eyes. A glimmer of something. That made him think that maybe it wasn’t a joke after all.

You grinned. “Leave this to the kids. They don’t listen to us either way. Let’s go and start another life.”

And for a moment, there was silence. You stared at him as he did the same, eyes boring into each other, unspoken words and unconfessed truths thrumming in the air between.

And just for that moment, you considered it. You really, really considered it. Just saying it out loud.

To tell him what you never did. What you’ve been hiding from him for so long.

Would that be so bad?

What if you did run away after all?

You sighed.

“Jeez, Levi.” You finally looked away, peeling your eyes off of him. “Relax. You look like I’m about to drag you from here at gunpoint. It was a joke.”

Levi was quick to duck his head away as well. “I know.” He mumbled. “I know. I’m not that fucking dense.”

“Were you hoping I was serious?” You pulled your knees up to his chest, letting your head rest on them to look at him, a grin forming.

He did. But he couldn’t say that, could he?

“You are the last person I’d willingly choose to spend my life with.” He scowled.

“That’s cruel.” You gasped dramatically, feigning hurt and giving him a mock glare. “We get along fine.”

“You’re missing the part where I want to choke one or two dozen times a day.”

“Kinky.”

“Fuck off.”

“Okay, but, think about it,” You pressed your lips together with the effort to hold the grin together, trying your best to look serious. How could you when he looked so incredulous? It only made you want to fuck around with him a little more. “You could be a farmer or some shit. I could be the pretty housewife. Some peace and calm.”

“You as a housewife?” Levi snorted, amusement gleaming in his eyes at the thought. “Peace and calm at the same place where you are?”

“Well,” You shrugged, “You could be the pretty housewife then. I won’t mind.”

“I think I'll stick to being a squad captain, thanks.”

"You're no fun."

"Shut the fuck up.''

The giggle finally escaped you, unable to hold it in any longer. And little after, you were laughing, clutching your sides, making the mistake of looking at his very offended face and then you were laughing so hard you could hardly breathe. Soon, even Levi’s face softened, the corners of his mouth quirking up just a little.

“HEYYY YOU TWO!”

Hange yells, appearing out of nowhere and startling the shit out of the two of you, making you almost choke. They flopped themselves down between you, wrapping their arms around both of your shoulders, squeezing hard and letting their head drop. “Nice of you to leave me alone with those children. Gave me a headache.”

“You’re the commander after all.” You said coughing, trying to get your breathing back to normal.

“Next time, can you at least say hello before you proceed to crush us to death?” Levi grumbled, squirming under Hange’s grasp.

“No.” They reply to Levi. “But jeez.. I say one word and Mikasa gets all defensive. Why is everyone acting like it’s my fault?” Hange pouts.

“Aw Hange.” You pat their back, laughing.

“I want to smack Eren.”

“Don’t we all?” Levi muttered quietly under his breath.

“Me and Levi booked him first.” You said. “You can have the rest if anything remains.”

“Aw man. No fair.”

Hange pulled a face. And then they pulled the two of you closer, until all 3 of you were practically squishing against each other.

You let your eyes fall shut, soaking in the warmth. And Levi, even Levi— who’s always complaining about Hange’s very physical manners—didn’t complain anymore. And the three of you just stayed like that, leaning against each other in silence. The presence of the other was enough itself.

Then Hange spoke, so quietly you would’ve barely heard it if you weren’t so close.

“How long do you think until it’s over?”

You pondered over the question a little while, thinking about it. Then you sighed.

“Who knows? Will it ever really be over?”

Hange exhaled softly, pausing. They looked up, the moonlight glinting off their glasses. There were a lot of stars tonight.

“Think Erwin’s getting amusement watching us be miserable?” They muttered.

It was Levi to answer this time.

"Yes."

[musings-ofthe-unamused]

Obey Me Headcanons

Topic: Fights

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Beel, Satan, Levi, Asmo, Belphie

Warnings: Angst, Lucifer being a little BITCH

Lucifer:

Getting into a fight with him hurts

He will point out every single way you need to improve yourself

And call you an imbecile while doing it

He’s just so pissed that he’s scolding you worse than Mammon

Call him a little bitch to throw him off

Start crying to make him feel bad >:D

Stonks!

Mammon:

He’s not the type to stay mad for long

Unless you’re like,,,legit making out with someone in front of him, he’s quick to apologize

But if you two happen to be in a really heated fight, he won’t necessarily be mad

Mammon acts more of a sad puppy dog

“Do you really think that?”

He gets very dejected its kinda heartbreaking

Pls apologize rn!!!

Levi:

Tsundere type of angry

“It’s not like I cared!”

He will deflect. 

It’s one of the worst types of defense mechanisms 

If you just leave him alone for a while

Eventually he will be so consumed with playing back the fight

That he will apologize

Feel free to flick him

Satan:

I dont wanna fight Satan

I feel like he’d slap me not that I would mind

Similar fighting style to Lucifer

He’s a little more cold and doesn’t really point out your faults

He just insults you

“Are you choosing to be this childish right now? Do you really want to fight over this?”

He’s stubborn and will totally drag out a fight

It can either end in you two awkwardly apologizing

Or not talking for weeks

Asmo:

I feel like getting in a fight with him wouldn’t be an actual fight

He’d just be super condescending

“Oh? So that’s how you feel. Cute.”

Will scoff at you (it doesn’t sound like a big deal but it is)

Gaslights

“Darling, I just don’t understand why you’re upset. I did nothing wrong.”

It will end in you storming off in tears telling Asmo that he’s a self centered ass

Only then will he slightly feel bad 

(i love him it makes it sound like I don’t)

Beel:

Beel has trouble comprehending other’s feelings

He truly tries, but sometimes it’s frustrating

And when he’s frustrated, he shuts others out

“Beel, you can’t just sit there and eat. Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to.” 

It’s very aggravating when the you can’t get through to you

It’s the fact that he won’t even try to understand

Either sit down and talk it through, or have one of the brothers explain it 

Belphie:

Two things can happen

The first is he completely ignores you

Every time you say something he just yawns, nods his head 

Or he says “I’m sorry” without even meaning it

Eventually, he’ll get so tired he’ll just go to sleep

The second thing that happens is the worst

Full on screaming match

Belphie is so fucking pissed he will start throwing insults

And maybe actual physial objects (not at you though)

If you slap him out of it, he’ll start profusely apologizing

If one of the brothers (Lucifer) intervenes, he’ll storm out of the house and disappear for days before coming back to apologize

[ajortga]

why try?

pairing: tara carpenter x fem reader

based off song request! thank you so much for your requests! many are being looked at now, another 3 are left to write. i'm not very good at song requests and i was actually feeling a little rushed this time, i just wanted to get this out there so i hope this can meet what you may have wanted.

-

??; was wondering if you’d take a song fic request ? mainly asking because i was listening to why try by ariana grande and i thought it might be good with like tara i think , i hope ,,, im not sure anymore lmfao

-

You and Tara didn’t meet each other in the best way possible, you met on bad terms, especially since she crashed into you while running and spilt hot coffee on you, screaming an apology as she ran to who knows what class, not even looking back.

For that whole day your white shirt was now a caramel brown, making you a little frustrated.

Tara was walking to her film history class, her hair in a braided half up half down, basically huffing as she opened the door, as she looked for a seat, the only left was a seat one away from the window. 

A pretty girl with her headphones in sat next to her, scribbling on her notes and wow, her writing was so neat. It reminded her of the poems that lovers would write to each other in neat curvy lines back in the olden days. 

Then she looked down at her sweater, it looked like a coffee stain.

Wait, a coffee stain?

The pretty girl was you, the one she crashed into and accidentally spilt steaming coffee on your sweater while she was running late to her next class, not even being able to make the face as she turned a corner and was gone.

Your gaze shifted from your words to the girl standing in front of you, your warm eyes looking at her, then recognizing Tara as yours narrowed.

“You owe me a new shirt. That was eighty dollars.” You mumble, pointing to the stain on your shirt, your voice soft, but trying to be a little annoyed, sour, and angry, Tara found it adorable.

“I was late to class.” She shrugged, making a small laugh as she sat down.

“That doesn’t mean you can spill your steaming coffee on me, I think I got a rash.” You basically flipped her off without actually flipping her off.

She groaned, “Okay I’m sorry, that must’ve hurt. My name is Tara.”

“Y/N,” you said simply, your voice wispy, sounds like a sweet and pretty sound, Tara could listen to it for hours-

“I’m still mad at you,” You murmur, turning your head away from her as your hair draped over your notes, writing.

She scoffed, a little angry that you weren’t quite talking to her, more like talking to her about the situation that she forgot about.

“Are you always like this?” She said, smiling, a little sarcastically.

“You’re mean Tara,” You turn to her, head laying against your palm. “Can I not be a little upset that you stained my favorite sweater, and basically burned me with your flaming coffee, what a memorable way to know you right? You were already late, why not just take your time?”

Tara huffs, seeing you like a kitten that doesn’t get what they want, saving your sweetness for her and squeezing out a little bitterness. She nudges you on the shoulder, making you shift a little and let out a small quiet giggle.

“Whatever Tickles.”

“Don’t call me that Tiny.”

“Excuse you?”

“Don’t think that teasing won’t jump back at you Tiny Toe Tara!”

“Oh fuck you!” She says sarcastically, “You drive me insane!”

-

Tara was right, you do drive her insane, but not the way you thought of.

Who would’ve known that her mind was you every night before she went to bed, the way she could feel her cheeks heating when thinking of your face. Your hair. Oh god, please don’t get started with your smile. It drove her crazy, in that way where she has seen your face as you talked to someone, just realizing how much of a listener you are. A good one especially, she sees your eyes as you nod, the way you tilt your head in a conversation, fully immersed.

Tara always wanted to have someone listen to her. She was always listening to others, good listening or not, she never got it back.

There were days where she’d tell Sam the things you did, basically screaming as she says how annoying you are. But at the same time, Sam sees the way Tara’s eyes dilate when she talks about you, gushing all her words at once and scrambling some words.

“She sounds like someone you talk about a lot.” 

“Excuse you? She is hot! I mean not!”

“Have you ever seen what she looks like? I think I stare at her too much.”

“Why?”

“Oh pfft, because she’s an atrocious looking pretty looking ogre that I can’t help but feel sorry for how she looks.”

“Pretty looking?”

“Oh yeah. No! You’re getting it all wrong. Pretty looking ogre like her looks pretty like one of an ogre.”

“That’s not what it sounded like.”

-

You and Tara throw insults at each other, she hates them.

“My Tiny!”

“Tararific!”

You annoyed her to bits, she was annoyed at the fact that she was desperate to see you, to talk to you, to see you smile. She was angry that she just couldn’t hate you. Even with your silly personality, teasing remarks, and playful nudges, there were moments where she saw you being you. Seeing you feed stray cats on the sidewalk when she walked to her apartment, your headphones in as she sees your pretty figure asleep on your desk as you took soft breaths, or the way your eyes are different than any other, different in the way that it was special.

She was so lovesick, but she would go through that phase every time if it meant seeing you for a second.

Why try getting her feelings for you to rip?

Knowing that you could still make her heart skip?..