#all caps to emphasize how much i laughed

[outrunningthedark]

I’m loling at the people who after the photo of Ryan help his friends film a video sans ring last night popped up and now her single mom emoj today immediately backtracking to “i never REALLY believed they were getting back together.”

Like *insert the sure jan* gif here. They “followed the clues” to figure out their relationship was back on track just like they follow them for canon buddie lol. And surprise surprise both sets of clues lead them to the wrong conclusion and now it’s time for them to backtrack 😂

They “followed the clues” to figure out their relationship was back on track just like they follow them for canon buddie lol. And surprise surprise both sets of clues lead them to the wrong conclusion and now it’s time for them to backtrack 😂

NO BECAUSE I WAS JUST THINKING THE SAME PEOPLE WHO CLAIM TO SEE HINTS IN COUCHES AND CLOTHES CAN’T PICK UP ON REAL LIFE CUES, BUT YOU’RE SO RIGHT. THE RADAR WAS ALREADY BROKEN. 🤣😭🤣

[nottswitch]

— 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 (𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠?)

summary: your last night in italy, your last chance to remember this vacation forever

pairing: theo x fem!reader

warning: 18+ smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), spanking, choking, dirty talk, degradation/praise, mentions of alcohol, tipsy sex, smoking, broken Italian, modern!au, muggle!au

wc: 3.9k

a/n: it’s been a long time coming!! finally officially writing for theo. inspired by honey (are u coming?) by måneskin <3

۶ৎ navigation ; masterlist ; theo m-list ; how to request

The air of the summer night was almost chilly, but only almost – the temperatures in the south of Italy are usually high at this time of year. However, it didn’t stop you from shivering as a light breeze of wind brushed against your skin, flushed from all the alcohol you had consumed in the last couple of hours. It wasn’t even that much in quantity – it was more so the mixture between the different kinds of it creating a heady haze in your direct and peripheral vision. And now, you were standing behind the club, having come out for a breather and a brief clearance of your mind. Your friends were still inside, lost somewhere between the dancing bodies, and you didn’t care enough to let them know you were heading out.

“Scusa, signorina, ha un accendino?”

You were shaken out of the blankness of your thoughts by a deep voice coming from somewhere behind you. You didn’t know what it said, since you weren’t the assigned interpreter of the group and knew jack shit about Italian. Slowly and cautiously, you turned your head to look at the source of that profoundly attractive voice. The man was standing a bit further away, still hidden by the shadows, so you couldn’t see his face clearly.

“Ciao?”

In your dumbfounded state, it was the only thing your brain could conjure up. The sole Italian word you knew for sure and could safely produce, besides the pizza names, of course. But if you started spurring them out – that would be deathly embarrassing.

The silhouette let out a low chuckle. He took a step further, and the light of a street lamp finally let you see the face of the mysterious voice. Your mouth was slightly agape as you studied his features: cheekbones that looked sharper than they probably were, emphasized by the shadows of the night; a cap of dark curly hair, messed up by hours of dancing in the club and the breeze that was currently ruffling it; his lips, rather… full and strangely inviting.

“Shit, I thought this line would work.”

Once again, his voice pulled you right out of your reverie. You realized that he was speaking English now, and his accent made the language sound tenfold more charming than it needed to be.

“What?” you asked, immediately feeling sheepish as you said it. It wasn’t hard to notice that you’d been standing there shamelessly ogling him while he tried to converse.

The previous chuckle of his turned into a laugh. The stranger stepped even closer, so close that you could distinguish a couple moles on his face, and his eyes… they were something else entirely. You tried your best to blink away the incoming clouding of the mind – it was simply dangerous to stare into them too much.

“I asked if you had a lighter,” he explained, taking a pack of cigarettes and his own lighter out of his pocket. “This line usually works.”

He lit up the cigarette, taking quick inhales until the tip started burning orange. Then, he took a deep drag, hollowing out his cheeks and making his cheekbones appear even more prominent. You watched in awe as he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, deliberately blowing it out in the opposite direction.

“But you-” you tried to say, your voice embarrasingly cracking and making you clear your throat. “You have a lighter,” you finally uttered, rubbing your throat with your fingers and swallowing a lump slowly starting to form there.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just a conversation starter,” he explained with another low chuckle. You felt like you were five and he was you kindergarten teacher, explaining the reason the sky was blue. “And it did start the conversation, no?”

You smiled nervously, fumbling with your necklace. The stranger noticed your tensed up state and his expression softened from playful to friendly and approachable.

“Theo,” he said, holding out his hand. “Well, Theodore, actually, but only my mother calls me that when she’s angry,” he joked, his lips spreading in a wide smile.

You introduced yourself as well, feeling much more comfortable with his gaze warmly resting on your eyes. His hand was bigger than yours, softer than you expected and felt like a pillow. Once your palms connected, he wrapped his fingers around yours and instead of a handshake, lifted your hand to his lips to plant a kiss on its back.

Your cheeks flushed instantly at the feeling of his lips on your skin. They were so soft that a need to feel them on your mouth made itself known in the depths of your stomach. You cursed yourself for being so sensitive, but didn’t pull your hand away when his lips lingered there for a few seconds longer than necessary.

“So, bella,” he started, letting go of your hand, “what are you doing alone outside of a club at…” He glanced at his wristwatch. “…at five in the morning?”

“My friends are still inside,” you explained the ‘alone’ part, “and I just came out for a breather. Our flight is in six hours and we’re probably not going to sleep,” you added with a scoff. At that point, a sleepless night didn’t sound as enticing as it did just a day before.

“A flight?”

Theo tilted his head, taking another drag of the cigarette. You swore you were hallucinating, but you could hear a slight hint of disappointment in his voice.

“Yeah, we’re flying back home,” you replied with a sigh, also feeling disappointed for some reason. It was rather unfair, you thought, that as soon as you met a perfect picture of a man, you had to leave him behind, in a country so foreign to you.

“Damn…”

Theo let out a humorless chuckle, exhaling a plume of smoke and running his hand through his hair, letting the curls gracefully fall on his forehead afterwards. He noticed the curious glance you gave him and shook his head.

“It’s nothing, I just-”

He interrupted himself by taking a long drag of the cigarette and shoving his hand in his pocket, as if to stop it from clenching into a fist.

“I just thought I had a chance,” he finished with a white cloud billowing out of his mouth. “You know, to have your number, to take you out and all that…”

You sighed, lowering your gaze to the ground. You actually really wanted to go on a date with this handsome stranger, and life felt even more unfair than just seconds ago, now that you knew that your sudden desire was reciprocated.

“Life’s a bitch, I guess,” you breathed out, biting the inside of your cheek to stop your voice from shaking. You never knew that a simple one-minute encounter outside of a club could affect you that profoundly, yet there you were, wishing you could stay in Italy for at least a day longer.

Theo watched you intently as he kept on smoking, and silence fell between the two of you for a few minutes.

"Can we…?" his voice sounded in the silence of the night.

"Yeah," you breathed out before he could even finish the sentence. You knew exactly what he was implying, and you would probably die before you missed the chance to skip all the unnecessary steps and just outright go for it.

You could see Theo grinning and tilting his head back a little as another cloud of thick white smoke wafted above him. He threw the cigarette to the ground, crushing it with the tip of his shoe, all while his shining eyes were fixed on you, and you realized that your own lips perfectly mirrored his wide smile. Theo took a couple of steps towards you, the proximity between your bodies’ letting his warmth envelop your front. His hand hovered next to your waist while his eyes searched yours, silently asking for permission. Your nod was more than enough; you barely had time to breathe in before Theo’s lips were on yours, his hand firmly gripping your waist and pulling you impossibly closer. On instinct, your own hands ended up on his shoulders, stabilizing yourself, as your knees seemed to have a mind of their own and suddenly wanted to buckle.

Naturally, Theo tasted like cigarettes and a hint of alcohol; his scent invaded your senses with male cologne and something citrusy on top of that. His hands held you up, one of them leaving wrinkles on the thin fabric of your tank top, and the other one – caressing you flushed cheek with his thumb. You let out a soft, shaky moan when you felt his tongue gliding against yours and got a response in the form of another moan, but lower – from him. It sounded heavenly, and you found yourself wanting to pull more of this out of him.

Both of you were breathless when you mouths finally separated, a thin strip of saliva stretching out between your shiny, sloppy lips. A second later, it was cold and dripping down your chin, and Theo laughed, pressing his thumb to your skin to wipe off the mess.

"There’s a place, not far from here," he whispered, leaning in so that his lips would lightly brush against your ear.

"Whatever you say," you answered, closing your eyes and trying to gather the last bits of self-control not to jump on him right then and there. Maybe it was the previously consumed alcohol, maybe it was just him.

The corner of Theo’s mouth turned up at the sound of your voice, still a bit breathless and, undoubtedly, needy. He placed a teasing, promising kiss under your ear, eliciting a quiet but sharp breath from you, and pulled away, sliding his hand down your body, from your waist to your hand. Your fingers intertwined, and before you knew it, you were getting all but dragged along the cobbled street.

"Theo," you whined, tugging at his arm to at least slow him down a notch. "My heels!" you said, raising your voice a bit when the guy didn’t stop at all, as if he hadn’t heard you.

Theo turned his head, following your downturned finger and noticing your high-heeled sandals.

"Ah, piccola mia," he cooed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. You didn’t know what he said, but in your mind, his amused smile couldn’t have meant anything bad. In a split of a second, you were picked up, bridal style, your body pressed to Theo’s chest, your legs helplessly dangling in the air. You let out a short, surprised squeal, which made Theo bite the inside of his cheek in order to suppress a loud, hearty laugh.

"That’s much better, hm?" he murmured, observing your widened eyes with a small but cheeky smile on his face and a quirked eyebrow.

You didn’t really have any time to answer – the question was rhetorical, anyway – as he started to walk down the street, his pace a bit faster now that you weren’t slowing him down. You decided not to question and instead, wrapped your arms around his neck. Although, as you had come to notice, his arms provided just enough of a safety net.

The lobby of the hotel had high ceilings, leather couches and air conditioning, which was a nice contrast against you flushed cheeks. Theo didn’t bother lowering you to the ground when you entered, so now you were hiding your embarrassed face in the crook of his neck while the receptionist was checking you in. His cologne was filling your lungs more and more with each passing second, so at some point you couldn’t hold back anymore and started placing soft kisses on Theo’s neck and jaw. You heard the incessant tapping of his fingers against the countertop increasing in frequency and grinned into his skin, realizing that your efforts weren’t in vain at all. His relieved exhale rang out along with the clink of the keys to your room for the night.

As soon as you stepped into the elevator, Theo pressed you against the wall, swiftly grabbing the backs of your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist. His lips stole a sloppy kiss from yours before latching onto your neck and leaving a trail of saliva down to your collarbone. One of your hands ended up on his shoulder while the other one was eagerly pulling his head into your neck, craving for more of the pleasure his lips were giving you.

The high-pitched sound of the elevator arriving at your floor cut through your lust-filled haze, but Theo was far from willing to let you go even for a minute. He carried you into the corridor and looked around to spot the right number on the door. Thankfully, it wasn’t far. Theo’s pace was hurried, and his lips were stuck to your shoulder all the way, until you heard the key turning and the door opening, at last.

A sharp breath was knocked out of your lungs when Theo pressed you against the other side of door, hungrily swallowing the air coming out of you. His hands immediately went to your ass, firmly gripping the flesh over your skirt. You moaned into his mouth, already feeling the dampness between your legs starting to grow pretty rapidly. Theo smirked against your lips and sneaked a hand up your body, under your tank top. His palm pressed into your breast, his fingers closing around it and giving it a solid squeeze. His lips parted, and you whined in protest when instead of his tongue you suddenly felt just his hot, alcohol-induced breath. You desperately licked into his mouth while he panted, lost in the feeling of your tits and ass sitting so nicely in his hands.

"Cazzo, you feel so good," he whispered, his voice low and hoarse.

At the feeling of Theo’s strong hands kneading your ass and tits simultaneously you started whimpering, wrapping your arms around his neck and trying to move your hips against his, tightening your legs’ embrace around his waist.

"You’re a needy girl, huh?"

Theo pulled away ever so slightly, just enough to have a good look at his face. He chuckled, trapping his tongue between his teeth while his eyes flicked from yours down to your now swollen lips and back.

"Such a desperate, needy slut," he murmured, his hand leaving your breast and cupping your jaw, his fingertips pressing into your cheeks and making your lips form a pout. As a confirmation of his words, a whimper left your throat, and your pussy started pulsating against the front of his jeans. Your hips started grinding again, and you could barely hold in another round of pathetic sounds when you felt a hard bulge between your bodies.

"Fuck," Theo groaned, for a second feeling nothing but the delicious friction your rapid movements provided. He lowered you to the ground, pressing a quick, firm kiss against your lips before guiding you to the huge, king-sized bed. You didn’t protest; you didn’t want to, and your mind was too far gone at this point. As soon as your legs hit the edge of the bed, Theo didn’t let you fall onto it. Instead, he pressed his palms against your lower back and your stomach at the same time, bending you over in one swift movement – you barely had time to stretch out your arms to support yourself.

Theo took a step back, biting his lips as he took in the sight of you, bent over, a tight denim skirt hugging your curves, your ass high up in the air due to the high heels on your feet. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he came closer again, lifting up your skirt to pool around your waist. You breathing grew more erratic as you felt his hands on your ass, grabbing the cheeks and spreading them open. A sharp slap landing on your right asscheek was a surprise, eliciting half a squeal, half a moan from you; your arousal trickled out of your panties in one wet line, which made Theo almost ecstatic. He gave your ass another slap, relishing your moan as he kneeled behind you, your thighs receiving a smack each as a signal to spread further apart.

If he wasn’t gripping your hips at that moment, your legs would’ve given out right when his mouth was pressed against your soaked panties. A shaky whimper escaped your wide-open mouth, making Theo’s cock throb in the confines of his jeans. In other cases, he would’ve taken his time teasing you, getting his fix of your needy moans and the sweetness between your legs. However, right then he was still somewhat tipsy and painfully hard, which is why your panties were quickly moved aside and his tongue dived straight into your dripping folds. A groan made your skin pleasantly vibrate, and your moans never stopped since, only growing louder and more frequent.

Theo’s tongue lapped up the juices from your cunt, his hands firmly gripping the underside of your ass, his thumbs spreading your inner thighs by pressing into them hard enough to leave bruises. You couldn’t help it - you bent your arms and lowered yourself down to your elbows, because you felt like you’d start shaking at any given moment. And you did, as soon as Theo’s skillful lips wrapped around your clit, sucking and making each and every single nerve shoot lightning strikes of pleasure through your whole body. Your moans and whimpers grew into sobs as Theo continued greedily devouring your aching cunt. The moment he gave your ass another slap, you were done for. Without any type of warning, you came, your hands gripping the sheets so hard they could probably rip.

When Theo heard you getting lost in your orgasm, he closed his eyes and groaned, feeling his own need painfully pulsating between his legs. He stood up, towering over your bent over and already spent form. You couldn’t even turn your head to see what he was doing, but you definitely heard the sound of a zipper being undone. You didn’t have time to dwell on that, as two of Theo’s fingers ended up inside your cunt almost immediately. Your whole body jerked forward, the pain of overstimulation mixing with the pleasure of his fingers stretching out your walls. The next sound was that of a wrapper being opened, and for a quick but very empty moment Theo’s digits left your hole. You whimpered in protest, pushing your ass back in search of friction, and you found it: the tip of Theo’s cock, wrapped up in a condom, slid along your folds up to your clenching and unclenching entrance.

"Cazzo," Theo breathed out, momentarily mesmerized by the sight in front of him. "Such a good girl f’me…" he continued murmuring as he rubbed his tip in circles against your entrance, making you squirm. His hand stopped your erratic movements, grabbing your hip to keep you in place. Once he was sure you weren’t moving anymore, that same hand landed on your asscheek, causing your body to jerk forward once again. "Such a dirty slut."

With one thrust he pushed into you, his hips slamming against yours with bruising force. You let out a sharp, high-pitched scream, immediately flowing into a stuttering moan as you felt the tip of Theo’s cock hitting a sweet spot. He moaned along with you, his head thrown back as he savored the feeling of your warmth and heat squeezing his aching dick. Shameless groans left his mouth with each movement he started moving inside of you, his initially slow pace growing into deep, hard thrusts. You buried your face in the sheets, tugging at them with your hands, desperate for some kind of grounding in reality. Theo’s cock kept hitting different spots inside you that you didn’t even know you had, making your pussy drip even more and causing squelching sounds to waft through the room, along with skin loudly connecting with skin. Theo’s hands landed slaps on your ass from time to time, each squeal of yours following it causing him to groan louder.

Your second orgasm wasn’t far off from the first one – with an especially deep thrust, Theo’s cock hit something entirely uncharted inside of you, making your thighs shake and your cunt clench around him. He fucked you through your climax, barely holding on, until you finally stopped squirming so much. His hand was on the back of your neck in a second, lifting your upper body from the bed and pressing it against his firm chest.

"Feel so good, bella," he breathed into your ear, causing your completely overstimulated body to shiver. This reaction brought Theo closer to his own orgasm, and his thrusts became messier with each passing second. "Gonna come soon," he whispered, lightly squeezing your throat and circling the shell of your ear with the tip of his tongue. You whined pathetically, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your walls clenched around Theo once again.

That did it for him. With a low, raspy moan into your ear, he came, his grip on your hip and throat tightening. His twitching cock made your thighs purse together involuntarily, and your body finally went limp against his chest. Both of you stayed like that for another minute or so, stabilizing your staggered breathing. As soon as Theo felt you calming down, he carefully spun you around and lowered you onto the bed on your back.

"That was…" you breathed out, sinking into the softness of the mattress underneath you.

"Yeah," Theo followed, a satisfied smile playing on his lips when he heard you struggling for words.

You let out a breathless chuckle, propping yourself up on one arm and following Theo’s padding to the bathroom with your gaze. Once he disappeared inside for a moment, you threw yourself back onto the sheets, covering your eyes with your hands and shaking your head in disbelief.

"Me… A one-night stand in Italy…" you murmured under your breath, rubbing your temples with your fingers, as if trying to get a grasp of the situation.

"A one-night stand?"

Theo quirked an eyebrow, heading from the bathroom towards the bed, his jeans all done and zipped again. You gave him a questioning look of your own, wondering what that sly smile of his meant. He sat down on the edge of the bed next to you and, in response, turned the screen of his phone to you. You squinted, trying to see what he was trying to show you, and gave him a skeptical look when you did. He seemed puzzled for a moment before understanding washed over him – of course, how would you understand a text in Italian. He physically facepalmed and pulled the phone away, looking at the screen himself.

"It says that ‘due to inadequate weather conditions, all international flights have been postponed indefinitely," he read nonchalantly, the only thing betraying his inner workings being that same smile you saw earlier. He glanced at you, trying to gauge your reaction to the news and see if you were getting the hint.

You bit your bottom lip, furrowing your brows as you were processing the information. Then, your eyebrows went up, and you lifted your head, meeting his playful eyes with those of your own. As Theo crawled up your body, your fingers were already mindlessly tapping a message to your group chat with your friends.

reblogs and comments will be appreciated ♡

[86espresso]

obsessed jack mature [1k]

hitting you with all the ‘w’ questions whenever you get up from your spot and leave his side cold and empty.

“where are you going?”

“bathroom”

“why?”

“because? I need- to go-” pointing down there to emphasize

“when will you be back?”

he’s putting his face in the crook of your neck too often in front of audiences, mumbling about how much he loves you.

of course, your face burns with the amounts of affection he throws at you and you reciprocate because who doesn’t want a man thats wholly dedicated to them.

he can’t help but buy whatever you set your eyes on a little too long.

he’s always bending down to strap and unstrap your shoes.

always drinks from his second favorite mug- his favorite goes to you. you never thought it was weird, you would do the same for him if you had a favorite or second favorite something.

always keeping his hand in your back pocket while wandering through a crowd. his brothers and friends give him shit because you def walk him like a dog.

calling you in the middle of girls night, rutting his sweatpants against your bed and rasping out that he needs you. waiting for you to get home and punish him for ‘ruining’ your plans knowing full well that, to you, there’s no pleasure greater than watching your boyfriend fall apart in your hands.

him pointing at you after every goal he scores as if you did it.

carries you up all and every stairs because he can. no one bats an eye at your antics anymore because you were basically best friends that spend way too much time with each-other.

treats you like a princess / fucks you like a whore type guy. (need)

up awake wondering what you’re doing while he’s on roadies. he’s usually less bright during these because you aren’t there to greet him after good or bad games.

roadies are hard for you too, because jack spoils your so much that you forget basic things like opening doors for yourself and carrying in the groceries. you’re more on the clumsy side, so jack isn’t there to save you when you take a tumble and break your wrist. he’s on the first flight back home and goes straight to you in the ER, pale and flushed with worry even after you reassure him that you’re okay. he steps around you carefully for a few days after that, making sure you have everything you need.

it’s embarrassing how co-dependent you both are, but it’s another point that solidifies that you’re in it for the long run.

literally gets lost in your kisses. pulls you closer and closer til he cant and tilts his head to get better angles at drowning in you. loves the way your cup his face during the soft ones and melts every time you sigh in between them. loves how perfectly your lips slot against his. you love his adorable giggles when you’re smacking your stained lips all over his face.

would pass up a night with the boys in a heartbeat if you even hinted that you wanted him to stay.

knows you’re cold all the time so uses that as an excuse to remain attached to you as much as he can.

takes his baseball cap off his head and puts it on yours whenever he sees you.

never misses any of your important events. he always puts emphasis on how your career is as important as his.

posts you on his insta in obvious and subtle ways. sometimes it’s you entirely, other times it’s your shoulder in the corner of the picture, just barely showing the ‘86’ tattoo there. twitter went crazy when he posted pictures of you in your wag jacket right before the playoffs. one picture of your back turned, showing his name, and another with your front where the jacket is open and you’re wearing shades and a black tube top.

“you’re so pretty” and you’re in a fucked out state with your hair clinging to your face and neck, breathing erratic.

knows exactly what type of sex you want and when, and never fails to deliver. sometimes it’s fun and messy, teeth clashing, laughing when his head hits the wall. sometimes it’s hot and rough, edging you to tears and not holding back. sometimes the roles are reversed. sometimes he’s slow with you and takes his time showing your body love.

makes sure that his gifts to you are more thoughtful than expensive because he knows that thats what you prefer.

is absolutely terrified of tattoos but gets one for you anyway.

he would live between your tits forever if he could.

you can’t help the way your uterus explodes when he holds quinn’s son in his hands. he’s just so tiny in Jack’s arms and you would jump him then and there if there wasn’t a quietly sobbing quinn on your shoulder and his passed out wife beside you.

sends you pictures of different things from the store, wanting to buy what you prefer.

never takes off the necklace you gifted him.

you’re more of a hygiene-freak and he’s more of a neat-freak so he leaves the cleaning to you and you leave the laundry to him.

there’s so much unspoken love between you two, physical touch and acts of service are as important as the words you say to each other.

you put a hand to your heart whenever he catches your eyes during a game, so he knows that he has your full support no matter what.

you love nothing more than wrapping your hand around his throat while teasing him other than him doing the same to you.

wears your perfume and leaves your lipstick stains on his neck as they are.

watches you do everyday things with the most lovesick expressions, he’s actually obsessed.

like, people would make fun of him being so enamored by you but he would wear it like a crown.

[37sommz-archive]

✼. MOTHER, MAY I | 2019.

CH. 06. NOW PLAYING: stfu! by rina sawayama [fluff, lil angsty]. ✼.⠀summary: michaela and lewis have a chat, 1.5k. ✼.⠀view:⠀masterlist⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request.

✼.⠀NOVEMBER 02, 2019 — austin, usa

If the pounding in Michaela’s head told her anything, it was probably that Austin had been a dizzying show of form. Though she was slated to start sixth in Sunday’s race, Michaela found herself begging the racing gods for mercy. 

The Austin wind paired with the fantastic glimmer of shuttering cameras, had left her struggling to keep her happy smile plastered to her face. Those who noticed the absence of her familiar joyfulness were loud about their observations. She had been put on blast all weekend by reporters, drivers, and social media alike, her thrilling qualifying performance forgotten amidst the generous flow of speculation.

Dodging questions about her personal life—one of the more helpful recommendations Sebastian had gifted her during her time as a reserve—she quickly settled on repeating the same half-assed response every time, “I’m taking a page out of Kimi’s book.” They would laugh and move on, realizing they would be wasting precious airtime attempting to get much of anything out of the Australian driver.

The tiny bit of solace she finds against the wall her blonde waves rest against is stolen in a millisecond as she hears footsteps approaching her. They are gentle yet confident, the contrast perfectly matching the driver to whom they belong. Slowly releasing a sigh of mild grief before beginning to straighten her form, any conscious thoughts are pulled from her mind once she matches the footsteps to the driver. With his hair tucked underneath his Mercedes cap, braids carefully pulled into a signature ponytail, finding Lewis Hamilton smiling down at her practically shakes any aches from Michaela’s system.

“Easy,” he laughs, the sound as relaxed as it was worried. His eyebrows dip as he frowns at the state of the 19-year-old sat below him. Pulling a stray chair to sit beside her, he recovers his frown with a tight-lipped smile. Michaela pales in response as she suddenly finds herself shy of his attention. The two drivers had barely had any time to talk during the younger’s debut season. Though words of congratulations had been exchanged through press conferences, there had been little time for any personal chats. 

“Sorry, I’m a mess at the moment,” she rushes to explain her current condition. Waving a hand at the frantic cope, Lewis shifts his body to face Michaela head-on. 

“How has everything been for you? The team, the media, the fans?” His voice is a calming force settling over the air shared between them. It is then that Michaela takes notice, with self-admitted shock, of the clearness of his skin and the cleanliness of his parts. The famous stud adorning his left nostril seemed to catch the lights brilliantly in a way that only seemed to mock the headache they had given to her. 

Nodding slowly she responds with a practiced carefulness, “Not the easiest.” 

Lewis simply laughs at her answer. Throwing his head back as if she had told the grandest of jokes. His amusement is quickly explained with a loud, “Welcome to Formula One!” 

She chuckles at his reaction. Though it is measured and ends as soon as his does, her shoulders relax as the tension holding them up begins to ease. An air of calm falls between the two drivers as they settle into candid conversation.

“You’ve done pretty well though,” He hums as he nudges his chair ever so slightly closer to hers. Attempting to keep her cool, Michaela nearly misses the caveat of, “From what I’ve seen so far”, that he adds to the thought, a shrug added to emphasize his point of view. 

She sighs in response to the addition. The roll of her eyes, so natural with a practiced ease, draws another laugh out of Lewis. 

“I’m in an Alfa Romeo, it’d be pretty hard to make it worse than it already is.” 

The Mercedes driver moves a tattooed hand to cover his mouth in mild shock the Australian rookie could be so bold. His eyes widen with another bout of amusement, the deep chuckle he tries to suppress managing to escape against the brown of his skin. Her typically subdued nature in press conferences had surely misled him of her true personality. There in the seldom-used hallways she had managed to find in Austin, Lewis found a spark in her eyes typically hidden underneath the pink and white of her famous helmet. 

The older driver leans back to take a peak around the corner, muttering, “You never know who’s around these fuckin’ corners.” 

Clearing his throat, he moves to offer a bit of sympathy to the rookie. With eyes shifting again, this time to true poise, he levels his speech. “The first few seasons are always rough. But I think you’re one of the more capable drivers on the grid. No doubt you’ll be in a better car before long.” 

As Michaela flushes, shying away from the compliment, he attempts to wave off the show of humility. 

“I’m serious, anybody who says otherwise? Fuck ‘em.” His shoulders rise in a show of nonchalance. Hands gesturing outwards catch Michaela’s eye as they crinkle in amusement.

It is Michaela’s turn to laugh out loud. Though her amusement is more subdued to be shared between the two of them, the grace she extends to the great seated in front of her is tangible. Waves of gratitude roll off her being and surround the two of them in a blanket of understanding. 

“Can’t say that in these pressers yet,” She chuckles as her laughter subsides a few beats later. “They’d have me out on my arse by the morning.” 

Her eyes roll again, annoyance replacing the ocean of gratitude she had previously been submerged in. The shift catches Lewis’ attention as he leans back against his chair. His comfort is immediately obvious to the rookie whose cheeks redden to her embarrassment.

“Yeah, that clause in your contract? What’s that all about?” His eyebrows furrow as the slightest of wrinkles around the perimeter of his eyes crinkle just the same. His lips pull into a frown as he awaits Michaela’s response. 

“The shut up clause?” She huffs in reply. A graceful, manicured hand reaches up to massage at her temples. Her dark eyes close as she feels the weight of all the season’s pressure fall back onto her shoulders. 

“If that’s what we’re calling it.” Lewis hums. The concern remains on his face despite his gentle curiosity.

“It’s supposed to keep me ‘in line’.” Her fingers signal quotations around the phrase. “They could fine me for any statements they think unfairly scrutinize them or the FIA.” When Lewis cocks an eyebrow with a questioning tilt of his hair, Michaela offers a clarification: the ‘them’ in question being Alfa Romeo.

“Damn,” He mutters with a disapproving shake of his head. “Didn’t know they could even put that in a contract.” When Michaela doesn’t respond, her head finds its way back against the white linoleum-lined walls, and Lewis takes a breath. 

“Who negotiated that?” He inquires as his lips pull into a line.

An ironic chuckle escapes the younger driver who offers a simple response. “They wouldn’t sign me without it… had to… compromise.” The words are just barely strung together, loose and uncommitted as they hang in the air. 

“Shut up clause.” Lewis muses with a scoff. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip before he sits up in his chair. “How long’s the contract? Two years?” When Michaela only offers a nod in affirmation, Lewis’ arms cross as if communicating his disappointment through solidarity.

The silence continues to freeze the previous ease of conversation. As the rumble of the anxious press floods through the walls separating the two from the waiting craze outside of their presumed sanctuary, Lewis’ phone begins to ring. The contact name of his Press Officer appears in bolded white at the top of the screen. Both drivers release a sigh through their lips, moving to stand from their comfortable seats. Though Lewis’ fingers twitch in an effort to respond to the call, he takes a brief moment to encourage the rookie driver.

“Being the first is never easy. There’s people waiting to see you crash, literally.” The added warning draws a tight-lipped chuckle from the Australian. “Don’t give them the satisfaction of failure, yeah? Experience everything with a cool head, make them eat their words.” Michaela nods in understanding, eyes wide as she hangs on to every syllable of the British driver’s wise words.

With a final, “Keep pushing, kid. You’re the shit”, he departs from her side. His phone raises to his ear as he huffs out an excuse to the woman on the other end, a jog in his steps as he disappears down the hallway. Taking a deep breath, Michaela’s feet carry her to follow him.

✼.⠀taglist:⠀

@cha-hot @certifiedlesbianbaddie @nichmeddar

@d3kstar @thewannabewriter @hwalllllllelujah

@pacmacs-macs @thearchieves @doodlehunz

@lavisenri @evie-119 @bxdbxtxh

@seaweed-orchid @glitterquadricorn @99snse

@ginghampearlsnsweettea @alliwantisadonut @hiireadstuff

@emilyval1 @scarlettwidow3000 @anotherblackreader

@sv5beehives @mynameisangeloflife @tellybearryyyy

@melancholyy-hill @emmma323

[cyber-nya]

Baited

Gol D. Roger x Reader

A pair of young, upstart Marine officers think they can use you as bait in order to get the Roger Pirates to turn themselves in. What a mistake to make. Whumptober 2024 Prompt: Used as Bait *Gender-Neutral Reader (referred to as 'pretty' once) written in second person POV. *No use of Y/N. a/n: hiiii i'm down bad for a lot of one piece men. this is pre-canon, and could be in the "learn to do it" universe if you squint. anyway, protective!roger drives me insane. mmm.

Read on AO3! Or read on below!

“You’re making a mistake,” you spat, “this won’t end in your favor!”

The officer leading you yanked on the chain; the one behind you laughed, poking his rifle into your back.

“You’re the one who made the mistake here,” the one in front - an odd blond bowl cut peeking out from his cap - chuckled. “We’re just doing the right thing to rid the world of pirates and their associates.” The acid dripped from his tone and his partner dug the barrel of the rifle further into your back to emphasize his point.

You huffed, stumbling as they all but forced you to trip.

Today was supposed to be relaxing; a quick trip to shore on this island you couldn’t remember the name of. Crocus agreed to take you - and the boys - in an effort to maintain a low profile while he purchased the necessary medical supplies. Shanks and Buggy had run into the general store, enamored with thoughts of sweets, while you stared into the window of the dress shop across the street. That one moment of distraction was what landed you in the current predicament, dragged along the streets towards the pier by a pair of ill-tempered Marines. They’d snatched you right there, one cuffing your wrists together and the other clasping a hand over your mouth as they pulled you away from the shop window. 

(Buggy and Shanks realized something was wrong when they called out to you, asking how much candy they could purchase. The young boys dropped their potential purchases and bolted out of the store, catching a glimpse of your hair as the officers dragged you around a corner. They yelped, quickly finding Crocus in the pharmacy.)

It was honestly a matter of time before some upstart Marines tried using you as bait.

With the ocean - and the Oro Jackson - in sight, the officers paused and exchanged glances. As if on cue, your transponder snail began to warble. 

“We’ll answer that for you,” the blond officer smirked, reaching into your pocket to retrieve it. His hands wandered briefly and you jumped as he finally turned on the device.

Ca-lick. 

“I believe you have something of ours.” Roger’s voice rang out from the snail.

“Roger! It’s just two of them, and —“ you started, shouting quickly before the butt of the rifle met the back of your head. You crumpled, seeing stars and black dots. 

“Pretty thing. Shame they can’t keep their mouth shut,” the officer laughed, his partner snickering cruelly as he held a boot on your back. The air crackled and you felt the skin on the back of your neck stand.

“Oi!” a pair of young voices called out from the road leading to the town. Buggy and Shanks ran quickly, Crocus alongside them. “You leave them alone!”

“Would you look at that? We’ve got the deckhands and the doctor here now!” the officer holding the transponder said while he motioned for his partner to aim his rifle at them. They stopped in their tracks, the two boys wide-eyed.

“You don’t know what you’re doing." Rayleigh’s voice came from the snail this time.

“Of course we do; we’re Marines, doing our job. Turn yourselves in now and I won’t hurt them too badly.”

“You’re making a mistake,” you said once more, causing the boot to dig into your ribs. You hissed, closing your eyes as the officer’s weight pressed into you.

“We told you already, the only one who made a mistake here is y—“ the blond officer said, before a crackle in the air cut him off. 

Everything else had gone still - the trees, the waves - in the wake of Roger leaping from the Oro Jackson. He seemed to be shrouded in a red aura as he landed feet away from the group, with a look on his eyes only a few lived to remember.

“You think you could take one of my crew,” Roger snarled, brandishing his sword from its scabbard, “and get me to turn myself in?” He barked a laugh - not his kind, gentle laugh, but one that was dripping with sarcasm and danger - before taking a step forward. “You’re dealing with the Roger Pirates, boy.”

The officers took offense to that; the blond one tossed the transponder to the ground, nearly missing your head as the delicate device shattered and he pulled out his pistol. The one with his boot to your back jolted and you felt something in your rib cage shift rather painfully. You whined and squirmed, adrenaline pumping - you’ll figure out what that was later.

Now, though, Roger was itching to fight. The two Marines who captured you wouldn’t be much work - no, it would be more about sending a message than just simply defeating them. He took one large step, and with a sweep of his sword, sent both officers flying to the side. 

Buggy and Shanks jumped and punched the air together before realizing they should help you. They scrambled quickly, helping you up as Roger laughed once more. The pistol and rifle clattered to the ground, cut in half as the Marines screamed.

“Told you this was a mistake,” you hissed, bound hands awkwardly clutching your ribs as the boys helped you to Crocus.

Your warning fell on deaf ears as Roger grabbed the shirt of the blond Marine, tip of his sword pressed to his neck. 

You don’t remember much else of the fight - Roger slipped into a blind rage at the sight of you in pain - and your head spun from being hit with the butt of the rifle earlier. The adrenaline was wearing off now that you were safely being ushered back to the Oro Jackson, with Rayleigh waiting at the railing of the deck for you.

It was only a short while later, while Crocus checked for a concussion (which you had) that Roger returned, knuckles splattered with blood that certainly wasn’t his. He appeared to have barely broken a sweat throughout the altercation.

His attention was focused on you immediately, gently taking your hands in his. Thumbs gently brushed against the raw skin as Roger pressed his forehead to yours - a promise that no Marine would ever dare try using you again.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

HI CAL HAPPY TUESDAY!!!! ⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️ my beloved

HEY DEVON! LET'S GO!

153 sentences Jesus.

---

“Well, I’ve been thinking lately.” Eddie says, following him into the house, down into the living. “And maybe I’ve been thinking too much lately, you know?”

“What about?” Bobby asks. He takes a seat on the couch. 

Eddie sits in the chair adjacent to him. “Uh… Well, this stays between us, right?”

“Of course.”

Eddie clears his throat, feeling suddenly very nervous. He hasn’t run this by anyone yet. This is his first sort of litmus test. If Bobby shuts him down, it’ll be kind of a massive blow to any momentum he might be building.

“I am thinking about proposing to Buck.” 

Bobby coughs, eyes bugging out a little. Eddie’s heart sinks.

“What?” He exclaims. “Do you really think it’s that bad of an idea?”

“No!” Bobby exclaims. “No, no.”

“Man, Cap, I really thought you’d say, wait six months or something if you were going to shoot me down,” Eddie practically pouts. “Not look at me like I'm insane.”

“No, Eddie,” Bobby insists. “You’re not insane. I don’t think it’s insane. I think it’s wonderful!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Eddie grumbles.

“Sorry.” Bobby apologizes. “I’m sorry. I’m just… Uh… Surprised?”

Eddie takes a deep breath. He feels kind of nauseated. 

“Is it really that surprising?” He asks, a little helplessly. 

“No,” Bobby says. He’s saying a lot of that. Eddie still doesn’t understand. “No, it makes perfect sense.”

“You’re really confusing me, Bobby.”

“Eddie, I’m sorry.” Bobby sighs. “This isn’t what I expected to hear when you showed up, but I’m glad to hear it.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “You don’t think it’s too soon?”

“Well, I’d be pretty hypocritical if I did,” Bobby smiles. “I think you’ve made it just as long as I did.”

Eddie’s lips quirk. “That’s true.”

“Do you think it’s too soon?” Bobby asks.

Eddie shakes his head. “Not really. It feels right.”

“Then why does it matter what I think about it?” Bobby asks. 

“Uh, because even though I really want to, I guess I’m unsure.”

Bobby nods, thinking on this.

“Not of Buck,” he guesses.

“No,” Eddie confirms. “Not of Buck.”

“You don’t trust yourself to make the right call here?” Bobby says. 

“I’ve done a lot of work on myself,” Eddie answers. “I know I’ve been making good decisions. And I still don’t trust myself.”

“Sometimes I think that self-doubt and inner criticism are as real as muscle memory,” Bobby says. “You feel a big life decision coming, and your body remembers that old panic. Maybe it’s what brought you here. Just like last time.”

Last time? Oh. When Eddie had thought Shannon was pregnant. When he’d been looking for a sign. When he’d decided to recommit for all the wrong reasons. 

“This is such a different situation,” Eddie says. 

“It is,” Bobby agrees. “I’m glad you know that.” 

Eddie nods. He does. He knows. He knows so acutely what the difference is. 

“Let me ask you this,” Bobby continues. “Are there any reasons you can think of why you don’t want to be married to Buck?” 

Well the answer to that is easy. 

“Not a single thing.”

Bobby smiles. “Then I think you know what decision to make.”

Eddie exhales. Yes. Yes, he does. 

“Thank you, Bobby,” Eddie says. “I knew I had a good reason for intruding on your peace and quiet.”

Bobby laughs. “It’s what I’m here for. And, hey, you don’t have any, uh, immediate plans for this do you?”

“Well, considering I’ve been panicking about it, no.” Eddie answers.

“No ring purchased?” Bobby asks. 

“No,” Eddie confirms. “I should… I guess I should do that.”

Bobby nods very quickly, eyes flickering back and forth in thought. 

“I’ve heard rings go on sale in June.” He says finally. 

“June?” Eddie frowns. “That’s a month away.”

“Mmm,” Bobby hums. “Mhm. Well, worth the wait for an investment.”

Eddie blinks. “Well, how worth it are the sales?”

“Significant,” Bobby emphasizes. “Plus, it gives you time to plan something. Lots of time.”

“Says the guy who bought a ring and proposed all in one day,” Eddie reminds him. He’s not exactly sure where this is coming from. 

“That is true. I did that.” Bobby nods. “This is just a suggestion, though.”

Bobby is swinging between wise and strange like a pendulum today. 

“I will take it under advisement,” Eddie says. “Thank you.”

Really, though, if Eddie is going to be planning a proposal any time soon - and he thinks he is - then there’s one person who he should probably consult. Not because she has any marriage expertise or special insight to Buck in particular. But because she’s his little sister, and he’s been making an effort to include her in his life ever since she moved here.

Yeah. Eddie’s next stop has to be Adriana's. 

🗲🗲🗲

Buck takes Christopher out to lunch at a fry restaurant he’s been begging to try. Fries! They just put different sauces and cheeses and toppings on fries. Buck is fairly certain it’s just ripping Canada off for their poutine, but whatever. It’s delicious. Christopher has good ideas. 

He has Maddie on standby. If today’s chat goes well, she’s going to meet him at a jeweler he’s already researched. If it doesn’t, she’ll… Pick him up and take him to a wine bar after Eddie gets home to cry, presumably. A proportionate response, he thinks. After all, Chris was kind of a hard ass when they got together. Now, nine months later, Buck really hopes Chris trusts that this isn’t going to end in heartbreak. 

“So,” Buck says, halfway through his buffalo chicken fry monstrosity dish. “Chris, I was hoping you and I could talk about something.” 

Christopher - whose own selection is cheeseburger in theme - pauses mid bite, surprised. Maybe concerned?

[ppumeonae-bigvibe]

dancing like butterfly wings

↖ navigation: ateez masterlist || main masterlist 

pairing: dancer! wooyoung x dancer! + gn reader

↬ tags: dancer pair! au, not much context other than reader and wooyoung in a dance crew, wooyoung has a crush on you!!, mentioned that wooyoung is your junior

summary: 어렵게 얻은 날개니깐, 다 비상해 저 위로, yeah [they're hard-earned wings so they're soaring to the top, yeah]

word count: 496 words

a/n: delirious on the fact that i've stopped dancing, yet i still miss being on stage all the same ,, (lowkey been playing that song too) so enjoy !!

wooyoung huffed, blowing a wayward strand of hair out of his face.

maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to take on this challenge.

but who was he to reject spending more time with his crush, especially if he was desperate to prove himself? 

he glanced at you, a frown forming at how easily you flowed. like a never-ending river of interconnected moves, wooyoung found himself lacking.

(he reasoned that he was just not as experienced as you were, having joined this dance crew just recently.)

you seemed to sense his stare and you flipped around, shooting him an innocent smile. 

“let’s try this again!” 

he couldn’t really say no to you, not while you were beaming at him like he was your whole world. tucking his hair back under his cap, he smacked his face a couple of times, “i got this.” 

“no, we got this.” you emphasized on the “we”, making eye contact with him through the mirror.

he nodded, gaining strength at your words. together, you two danced in unison, self-made choreography from weeks back coming along nicely. 

the studio was near silent, save for you counting the beats and his sneakers squeaking against the cool wooden floor. he caught himself pausing, trying to copy your moves instead and internally berated himself for not being able to remember. 

“damn it!” he cursed under his breath and you stood in front of him, your hands lightly touching his shoulders, “hey, hey. deep breaths. you with me?” your eyes were trained on him while explaining the steps again, using your own analogy to help him ease back into the steps. 

wooyoung stumbled yet again at a particularly difficult portion, and he flopped down while whining, “this is too hard!” he pulled off his hat and swung it to the side, using the back of his to wipe his sweat away. 

you loomed over him before squatting down, a wry smile on your face,  “i mean, i thought you really looked good!” he peeked up at you, and he pushed himself up, in disbelief that his crush was complimenting him. 

“wait, really?” 

you burst out laughing, “yeah! truthfully, if you had given up at the first practice, i’d have lost my respect for you as a dancer. we all have something that we’re better at, but to try something new is another way of showing appreciation too, you know.” 

you lightly hit his shoulders and sat yourself down, facing him. “you’re doing great, really. plus with such a nice dancing line like yours, contempt looks pretty coming from you.” his heart skipped a beat, pumping to a rhythm only his truest intentions knew. 

“o-h! thank you for that.” he felt zings shoot up his arms when you playfully grabbed his hands, “you usually pick up on things fast, so i know you can do it again!” you pulled him up to his feet, urging him to continue with you. 

soon enough, his heart was dancing like butterfly wings.

@ppumeonae-bigvibe 's work ; likes and reblogs appreciated <3

[casliveblog]

Custom Toonami Block Week 169 Rundown

Spy X Family: It’s a Bond and Loid adventure this week and I’m still never quite sure what the relationship is between these two, like they make it explicit Loid doesn’t know Bond has precognition and he hilariously chalks everything up to Bond using ‘smell’ to sense things regardless of how implausible that is, but he also thinks nothing of taking him on missions and stuff and does know he’s a Data Dog so idk if he’s just oblivious and has really strict training for housepets or is actually intending to take him in the field as an operative. Still it’s funny watching him try to help people and not having Loid understand what he’s doing like Anya can, emphasizes their relationship without her even being there. They also break into a burning building to save a puppy and with all the fluff on him you’d think he’d go up like a haystack but he only gets a tiny spark after he’s already left, they probably should’ve dumped the water on him before he went in rather than after he got out but there wasn’t much time and deflated Bond is still amusing enough to even get a laugh out of Loid. They catch the arsonist and like it isn’t very hard like he wears a baseball cap with FIRE written on it and carries all his oil and matches in a duffel bag and stands there to watch the place burn like how is he not caught already. It’s very sweet that Anya finds out and gives them a little award ceremony despite them not being able to tell anyone, and Loid telling Bond being Anya’s dog is his most important mission is very nice. Also apparently this is the season finale, I was REALLY not paying attention because I thought I had a couple episodes left but guess that’s it until the movie, looks like I’ll have to find two new shows for next week.

Inuyasha The Final Act: We kinda cut around a lot of semi-relevant filler arcs in this episode, like this is the closest we get to a breather episode in this season and it still is speedrunning like four different storylines. Firstly the most relevant at the beginning and end of the episode, Totosai senses Tokijin broke and Sesshomaru’s the minimum requirement of 20% less of a dick than he used to be so Tenseiga will allow him to murder people with it now. I always felt kinda weird about this because Meido Zangetsuha is a legit amazing ability and really cool but the point of Tenseiga was originally to keep Sesshomaru and Inuyasha in balance and while there is room in that for Sesshomaru’s character growth allowing some power creep the fact that it’s never been mentioned does make it feel like quite the retcon. Meanwhile as Kagome heads home and hears the incredibly important end of the Shikon Jewel story that has again never been mentioned before, she just kinda decides fuck school and goes back in time again. Like I get they play it off as Kagome being an impatient teenager that never listens to her grandpa but it feels like this again should’ve come up at some point given Kagome’s been searching for this thing for the better part of six in-world months. Lastly we have two Shippo filler episode arcs back to back with him playing pranks on the guys to go up meaningless ranks in a fox demon advancement exam which is mostly just funny how hilariously quickly Shippo’s willing to turn on his friends for numbers he admits are basically meaningless, though it does give him something to do for the Yashahime Timeskip so that’s nice. Also the transition between these two arcs is really blnk and you’ll miss it because I sure as hell missed it but there’s another ‘Shippo gets a girlfriend’ arc where the sexy girl with the counterfeit energy-stealing sword he’s chasing turns out to be a male badger doing a G.I.R.L. scheme on him and it mostly just ends up being a setup for the REAL Dakki which Inuyasha knows will somehow be important in some unexplained way just by looking at the fake. Man it’s real easy to get whiplash with how quick these Final Act episodes jump from point to point and like don’t even establish where they are in some cases like Sesshomaru and Totosai just kinda show up in the sperm demon dome without explanation to test the Meido Zangetsuha like I guess I prefer this to twenty episodes of filler between each plot point but there has to be some kind of middle ground, still the story is pretty solid when it’s actually moving, just a little disorienting.

Castlevania: Trevor’s gotta go on his first little D&D quest and like three collapsing floors that I’m not sure how the other guys got around given they were completely intact and led to the same place but it’s funny watching Trevor fall on his ass, guy’s got some real Jack Sparrow energy. But yeah he kills the Cyclops and they do the ‘the boy was actually a girl’ thing you see in like half of the Naruto filler arcs and a bunch of other dear horse things and idk really why they do it here because it’s not a shock for the audience to go ‘why did you assume it was a boy? #feminism’ like it usually is, it’s just kind of a worldbuilding thing that the Spakers are mildly sexist which is okay I guess but also makes me like the group we’re supposed to be saving a little less. Sypha thinks there’s still ominous shit down there to get but Trevor sees all the modern tech and is like ‘this is Dracula’s weird science shit, gonna get out of here’ and they at least agree to go tell her grandfather she’s alive before going to risk her life again. After he drops her off the church picks Trevor up and Frollo comes to see him like ‘bro just gto, you don’t have to do anything but leave I don’t want your video game protagonist shenanigans in my town while we violently murder the peace monks in the name of our merciful god okay?’and of course Trevor immediately goes back to get said peace monks back down into the D&D dungeon and ends up fighting off the angry mob. But also like… why? He could’ve just gone down there with them he didn’t need to be there to fight them did he just wanna make his admittedly cool speech? Like that’s a lot of work and several dead bodies to make a speech to some guys that you’re immediately going to kill anyway. I also don’t inherently see the difference between the Speakers adamantly refusing to leave town and then hiding anyway like the townspeople don’t know where they are so functionally they’ve left town like they could’ve just left and came back or some shit and had the same effect, in fact if they leave and still get attacked by demons that’s proof that they aren’t the cause of the demon attacks (also idk if they seem to be making the point that the demons attack everywhere under church rule specifically or if they are just spreading Dracula’s rage indiscriminately like the church gets blamed for it rightly so but also if the church didn’t move into this town and the all became buddists or something I don’t think the demons would do a Passover and not hurt them). But yeah in addition to the angry mob chasing Trevor through the streets we also have demons, so that’ll be fun.

Jujutsu Kaisen: So this episode’s just kinda really cool, the animators have a lot of fun with the colors and the symbolism on street signs and shit like that and it’s really neat. The entire episode is basically Choso versus Yuji and it’s really pretty neat because Choso basically has the better version of the other guy’s Gear Second blood powers in that he’s basically Suitengu from Speed Grapher and can even recycle the blood despite never having to worry about bleeding out. He basically just does a bunch of cool blood shit until Mechamaru gives Yuji a strategy to run into the bathroom and make this a good knuckleduster because all hot-blooded shonen fights end with the two punching the shit out of each other and Choso is apparently like Roy Mustang and can’t get wet because if blood gets too much water in it it’s not blood anymore it’s just dirty water and if there’s one thing a system based on curses loves it’s semantics. It’s kinda funny that both of them come up with the same strategy of ‘I’ll not use my offhand and then punch him in the liver with something from that hand’ and only Choso’s actually works but Yuji has enough shonen willpower to run through it for a bit. I like this fight a lot because by all means this should be a talk no jutsu fight about how Choso feels about his brothers being killed and how technically Nobara killed both of them anyway and they get down to their feelings and shit but Yuji even admits there’s no time for that and just comes out swinging. Eventually Yuji’s dead to rights and bleeding out but Choso miraculously feels a familial connection to him in a weird little cutscene that feels like that scene from Walking Dead where Negan tells Rick to imagine what life could’ve been like if all his friends made it out alive and they’re all eating at a table outside. But yeah I’m not surprised because the Venn Diagram of characters that have weird heritages and shonen protagonists is a fucking circle. Also the school girls find Yuji and are presumably going to stop him from fucking dying.

Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End: We get two little stories this time around, the first is a standard ‘Frieren sneaks around to buy Fern a birthday present’ which is a pretty paint by numbers plot but it is pretty sweet that it reflects Frieren’s efforts to learn more about the people she travels with and take their perception of the passage of time into account, plus it gives Fern a new accessory to mark the passage of time on her travels with Frieren. The second is Frieren training Fern on defensive magic only for it to immediately come into practice against an old demon that was sealed away during her initial travels. Luckily eighty years of collecting spells for tea and flowers have made Frieren strong enough to wipe the floor with this guy. No but seriously they basically wake this guy up, go ‘you’ve been powercrept bro’ and disintegrate his ass, it’s a pretty neat meditation on the ‘a better gun means people make better armor’ type of race between offense and defense. Though if we’ve reached the magical arms race point where the Armor Piercing Disintegrate you from fucking existence spell is ordinary and commonplace idk where you really have left to go from there like how do you get more powerful than atomizing someone. Also something something Luffy kid saw Frieren’s panties.

Vinland Saga: It’s the second half of the season and with the farm’s war with Canute on the backburner for right now we start off with a scene that can only be described as a breakway Slave reenacting the “Then Perish” Obama meme on his master. I figured this out early so I’mma just spoil right here that this is Arnheid’s husband Gardar even though it doesn’t come up until the end of the episode. Meanwhile the group is doing shenanigans at Sverkel’s house while he’s basically wasting away but it gives Einar, Thorfinn and Arnheid some time to bond and let their character developments sink in a bit. Plus Thorfinn is hearing Wolf read the Bible to Sverkel and it just so happens to cut to the passage that’s likely the most relevant to the entire series. It is kinda refreshing to see the series take the pacifism of the Bible so seriously like obviously all the Christian warriors are still murdering in the name of god and shit but with things like Castlevania and other anime and even just real life Christianity it’s easy to get lost in the weeds of how shitty people are about religion and I think Vinland Saga does a good job boiling it down to what people liked about it in the first place aside from it being a convenient vehicle to justify biases and get people to put up with a lot of bullshit on the promise their next life would be better, it really captures the beauty of the Do Onto Others philosophy in a way that a lot of other religious depictions are too cynical to. Still, Gardar murders one of Wolf’s men that has the least screentime and has charged the camp on a desperate attempt to reclaim Arnheid and she does not look happy to see him so there’s probably a story there.

[danroiie]

𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬. kenji sato x m!reader.

A/N: i’m sorry if I make grammatical mistakes, English is not my first language. Really thank you very much for the support, I had honestly uploaded it with the idea that I would delete it later, but it was too nice to know that some people had liked it. Thank you very much, again. 🫶🏻

Damn, I must admit that it is quite complicated to translate writings into another language, more so because certain words are lost in the translation. In a nutshell, I burned the two neurons I had trying to make this understood well and perfectly, I'm sorry if it's not what you expected. A kiss to all those people who translate their writings.

➛ CONTENT; Fluff, too much in my opinion. ➛ m!reader It contains a couple of headcanons(? and two short stories, mention of a baseball reader, mention of a private and practically secret relationship, silly and very cloying romance. (I love that, I'm sorry 😔)

Kisses over here kisses over there. Sato LOVES kisses, uniquely and specifically from you. He would die without them.

Kisses on the forehead, kisses on the neck, on the cheeks, on the hands, eskimo kisses, french kisses, butterfly kisses, any type of kisses and anywhere. He would make sure to discover and experience all of them with you. Without really reaching anything sexual, just a sweet moment shared between you two.

The tip of your nose brushed against Kenji's, and you both stood still, looking at each other. There's not much to say; you knew perfectly well what he wanted just with that look, and Kenji knew perfectly well that you would refuse, not because you didn't want to, but according to you, this was not the right place. Not with a lot of people around. At this point, you were grateful that, right now, you two were a little further away from the rest of the team. This distance shouted danger wherever you looked at it. "Kenji, no." you hurried to say "just one, please" he answered at the same speed as you, begging you with his eyes as if he were a poor hungry puppy "please, you always say the same thing. And it never ends up being just one" you whispered, laughing as you leaned away from him "please, please, it will be so fast that no one will see it, I promise" he took you by both hands, preventing you from moving away. He brought you back to him with short laughs, looking for your gaze. You looked at him carefully, observing how he had unconsciously licked his lips. One of his hands moved away from yours to take the visor of your cap, lifting it a little so that he could look at your face better "stop looking at me like that, you make the situation more difficult" he murmured almost in a whisper. You snorted as you looked at him with irony "that is my usual look, Ken"

His lips sometimes taste like coconut water. The first time you noticed that you couldn't help laughing a little at him until you admitted that you liked. Since then, strangely and by pure CASUALTY, his kisses sometimes tasted like that flavor more than usual.

Poor man, he didn't like that drink at all but he would do anything to see you smile.

You licked your lips, savoring once again that subtle coconut flavor that had been impregnated in your mouth after your kiss with Kenji. "so... coconut water, huh?" you quipped, casting a playful glance at the boy beside you. Kenji only rolled his eyes while his smile spread. He hadn't realized how much he had been drinking that particular beverage until its flavor had remained even in your mouth. "Mina has been making me drink those things for days!" Kenji replied, making sure to emphasize the last word in an exaggerated tone, you let out a laugh while you stopped at the foot of the stairs. "Well, give my biggest congratulations to the chef for an incredible dish"

He has something with the kisses at the corner of the lips; they are not his favorites, but he doesn't hate them either. Those are perfect if you both want to give each other a quick kiss in public and secretly. The way you make them so sweet when you give them to him is magical. The kisses on the forehead are given more by you than by him. His heart melts when you take him by the cheeks and bring him closer to you to plant them in the sweetest way possible, so sweet that he would probably fall into a diabetic coma. He loves to kiss you many times on the cheeks and observe how, little by little, they turn slightly pink. He likes to annoy you with that because the way you try to deny it and hide your face (failing in it because It's impossible to erase your huge smile) makes him smile like a complete idiot in love. There is a special kiss that he likes a lot, one that goes on the back of his neck. You usually give them to him when he's turning his back on you or you hug him from behind. You know it tickles him and that's why it's one of your favorites. He likes it when you slide your hands around his waist, but it's a secret.

The first time you two tried to give each other a French kiss it was a COMPLETE DISASTER. I don't think there is much need to give details. I'm just going to say that the situation was not so uncomfortable thanks to you and your optimism, that only ended up as a funny memory and most of the time you two make jokes about it. Eskimos kisses are another of your favorites, they happen frequently whether intentional or not. They usually happen before a normal kiss on the lips. You like to use it to make fun of Ken by making him believe that you are going to kiss him, but in the end you only rub your nose against his. It's quite fun to see him change his expression so quickly.

Oh the kisses on the hands, both of you love them. Sometimes he gives them unconsciously when he has one of your hands and the same thing happens with you too. He thinks that your hands are very pretty. Unlike his, you tend to have a softer hands. 

Butterfly kisses usually happen when you are very close to one of his cheeks or your face is hidden in the hollow of his neck, your eyelashes tickle him, so you usually snatch one or three laughs from him. 

For that reason, you love these kisses.

By the way, feel confident to correct me with certain words that I have used wrong and give me a couple of tips, I have no problem with it as long as you do it in a respectful way.

Take good care of yourself! 💗

[nothingenoughao3]

I have been visited by royalty! Let me put the kettle on for you, @the-dr-herbert-west.

I appreciate that another theater person has picked up what I put down initially. However, I've seen posts going around about the Laid To Rest Allegations, and my thoughts were percolating before you showed up and made them boil over. I'm therefore doing this as a reblog to contain all my obsessive typing. I hope that's okay!

Every version of "Re-Animator" I acquired had subtitling, because I'm HOH, and every version rendered that line as "Laid to rest!". It never occurred to me that it could be anything else until I saw people circulating GIFs on Tumblr where he's seething out the line "Plagiarist!" instead. I was immediately on board with this line change, and just as disappointed as everybody else when it turned out I was right the first time.

Our collective struggle has to do with how this scene is structured. (This is the last time I ranted about this scene, and features a video clip of everything up to Hill talking sarcastically about looking at "his" discovery.)

Hill calls out West for stealing lab equipment. West calls out Hill for stealing his preferred title of "scientist". Hill straight-up says he wants to steal West's work for his own. The majority of Hill's dialogue after he 'mesmerizes' West focuses on plagiarizing West, and by extension, Gruber. (Who Hill was also accused of stealing from earlier in the film.)

Then Hill verbally structures his plan to plagiarize West, and then reiterates this plan indirectly with the "I--will be--famous!" line.

Their entire interaction is about theft and plagiarism. So when Herbert grits out a line that almost sounds like "Plagiarist!", we want this to be what he's saying. It's satisfying. It's a solid conclusion. It takes the throughline of all their dialogue, the spine of it, and caps it off (with, I guess, hipbones and a skull? I didn't think this metaphor through).

Unfortunately, what the writer(s) seemed to be going for was not a thematic capstone, but A Funny Peri-Mortem One-Liner. Which are, to be clear, cool and good! And apparently something to which West is susceptible!

Structurally, the "Laid to rest!" line is written about in the novelization as Herbert making a funny. He enjoys making 'private' jokes about the death and mayhem he causes and doesn't care if anybody else is laughing. In that sense, it's comparable to him going "Look out!" and cackling/wheezing at Dan's panic after they kill Rufus. As well as the cut line "He didn't have the guts" from BRIDE's script--he's making a pun, and laughing at his own pun, while Dan is having a meltdown about The Horrors.

For why it sounds like it does, and relating this back to the original post topic, Combs does something different with the line delivery here than he normally does in the film, which is gritting his teeth while saying it.

Gaze upon his jawline and his overall stance here in the morgue, where he's stage whispering and making a great duck face:

And contrast with this tragically-blurry moment where he's directly in the middle of delivering the "Laid to rest!" line:

The full-body tension is evident in the second shot. So is the shadow on his jawline revealing just how hard he's clenching his teeth/jaw. Broseph is putting his whole pussy into sounding like he's using a spade to cut off Hill's head.

If he were in a stage production, he wouldn't have done that, because you're right--there's no way the folks in the back could hear him properly. Much less a film audience! I can picture him, instead, biting out each word individually, perhaps wrenching the spade-handle to and fro with each word to really drive it home, and then cacklewheezing as Hill's head rolls away.

I assume he was directed to do what he did by Gordon because it looks better on camera and it emphasizes the physical struggle of the murder. Which it does. So, fair enough.

With all of that, it's pretty clear that West is saying "Laid to rest!" and always was, astronautwithagun dot jaypeg. But, no disrespect, it's really unsatisfying.

It's the least funny of his one-liners. It's coming at a really tense and plot-changing moment, and so is less likely to strike the audience as funny, even by accident. You can't half-ass a joke in these circumstances. It's gotta be good, and this ain't it, jefe. (Contrast with "Shaun of the Dead--which had great Peri- and Pre-Mortem One-Liners... until that one scene towards the end where they completely ditch the jokes.) Finally and importantly, it doesn't follow through with the theme of the scene, which is all about Hill stealing everything that isn't nailed down.

In short (too late for that!), we hear the line "Plagiarist!" because that's actually a better line.

So y'all know how Jeff Combs was doing a theater production which someone involved with Re-Animator saw him in, and how he's suggested that the character he played there influenced how he played Herbert West.

I relayed this to @andalusiapunk and they were like "Oh! That explains it! He's theater-acting!"

I am not an expert by any means, but I did misspend my teenage years in a magnet school as a theater student. I understood immediately what they meant by theater-acting and I'm mad I didn't come up with it.

A lot of this has to do with Herbert's overall physicality. We all love talking about how he's hyper-dramatic, right? How he moves in a particular way that is extremely precise and sharp and, to be on point, theatrical. How he spins the tape recorder in his hand; how he offers Meg's heart in BRIDE; how he fumbles or manipulates syringes in various scenes.

None of that's in the script and it's not necessarily justified by what's happening... unless you're trying to make sure the audience in the backass end of the theater can see you're holding something small, like a tape recorder or a syringe or a human heart. As I observed elsewhere, you can trick the audience into 'seeing' or 'hearing' things that aren't present onstage or screen if your body language insists on its reality.

And, not to get into super-nerdy film history, but: originally theater-acting and movie-acting were one and the same. Early films are blocked like plays, they have extended sequences without constant cutting between shots (like an audience watching a play), and the extremely clear, over-enunciation of a play-actor trying to make sure those poor bastards in the back can hear what they're saying. And like a play, all acting was heavily rehearsed and expected to hit the same points and produce the same results every time.

What changed this was Marlon Brando introducing the idea of improvisation into movie-acting, a choice which also led to a greater flexibility in movie-acting... including delivery of lines. A more "natural", verisimilitudinous delivery became acceptable for films. This doesn't make either style bad, to be clear: each serves its purpose.

Bruce Abbott (to name the most obvious example) is doing movie-acting. He's got some Protagonist Accent going for him, but he has a clear variety of tone and a great deal of subtlety with his facial expressions and delivery. The same goes for the rest of the cast, although David Gale kind of straddles the line between these two styles.

Herbert's delivery is pure theater-acting. When he and Dan invade the morgue, Dan is whispering--but Herbert is stage whispering, which is why he hisses so much. I've made jokes on here before about how Herbert was born on Skid Row in Little Shop of Horrors-verse, and he thinks he's supposed to be in a musical... and, you know, LSOH is a film based on a play, only in that movie, EVERYBODY is theater-acting.

Anyhow, lotta words to find a different way to compliment Combs and the rest of the REANI cast on their acting, because I live for sorcery enjoying these damn movies.

[bryn-paris2023]

On Parisian Lifestyles

As a student in the U.S., I have grown accustomed to productivity culture, burnout, and the constant need to feel busy. American culture often values career success over all other types of success. In my academic environment, I have noticed that there is a sort of competition to see who studied the most and slept the least, where the busiest, most stressed person wins. This attitude couldn’t be further from the cultural norm I have observed in Paris over the past couple of weeks. Even in the busiest parts of the city, there is a sense of slowness, where instead of defining a successful life as one of maximum productivity, a well-lived life is enjoyable. You can see the emphasis on experiencing life in the many parks scattered throughout the city. In these parks, lush greenery juxtaposes the inorganic architecture of the city. Everyone is invited to sit in the grass or on one of the many benches and enjoy a little bit of nature. Teenagers and twenty-somethings sprawl in the grass, laughing with each other over shared snacks. Older couples sit on benches people watching and reading books or old newspapers. Parents chase toddlers through the grass or around play structures in the park. These parks are truly public spaces with aspects for all members of the community carefully throughout and incorporated into the space. This is just one example of how French culture emphasizes the importance of slowing down and enjoying living.

 I also noticed people sitting at cafes or in restaurants for hours, sipping coffee and talking over multiple courses. You can buy a coffee and sit in the café all day if you want, and you won’t be rushed out by waitstaff or asked to move. Servers don’t check on you often, giving you plenty of time to enjoy company and conversation. Furthermore, the cultural norms are also protected by the French government. Many of people in the U.S. can only dream of having enough time to take a long walk in the park or spend hours at a restaurant. The 40-hour work week is closer to 50 or 60 hours for many Americans and coworkers, or bosses rarely hesitate to contact you outside of work hours.

This couldn’t be further from the work culture in France where the workweek is capped at 35 hours, anything more must be discussed between both parties and includes guaranteed overtime pay. French citizens are also guaranteed a 48-hour break every week and employers are prohibited from contacting employees outside of working hours. The benefits the French government gives to its citizens have been fought for since its beginning. Historically, when French citizens are unhappy with the government or its policies, they protest and fight for what they need. This continues today with the recent protests against President Macron's proposed retirement age increase. Work/life balance is essential to French culture, and the idea of working longer into one's life goes against this norm.

I have noticed how much French culture values enjoying and experiencing life. This is reflected in the atmosphere of the many parks throughout the city, the work/life balance, and the protections the French government provides its citizens. The need for the rights of the people to be protected by the government has been fought for since 1789 and continues to the present day. The Parisian way of life is truly one of enjoying and protecting the little time we have.

[beacon-lamp]

I think Dream.....well first of all I don't know what dream has done. I saw he streamed last week? Maybe some more controversy?

Anyway, dream's humour seems very rude and dumb on twitter......but i think it'd go over GREAT on Tumblr.

I'm saying that if Dream said exactly the same things on Tumblr that he says on twitter(besides that song about pills(which i think he acknowledged was dumb?))

I'm saying it would not be out of place in Tumblr. And that's...... something to think about as i ignore homework.

hahaha no no ur right anon some of dream’s hit funny moments would do Numbers on tumblr

[augustinewrites]

fushigojo halloween, pre-shibuya style heh

“why can’t i go with you?” gojo complains from his spot on the edge of the tub, pouting as you check your reflection in the mirror. “you’re getting dinner and drinks. i love dinner and i love how horny you get after a few drinks.”

hands on your hips, you turn to face him. “you can’t come because one, you have to take the kids trick or treating. two, shoko and utahime invited me, not us. and also, you mean how horny you get after a few drinks, lightweight.”

gojo jumps up as you turn to leave the bathroom, grabbing your hips and pressing a kiss to your temple before you can escape. “only because i love you so much!”

“i know,” you hum, rolling your eyes but unable to help from smiling as you slip out of his grasp. “and because you love me so much, you’re going to stick to the neighbourhoods we cleared curses out of this morning, be home by 9, and make sure the kids brush their teeth really good before bed. i know it’s your first time taking them alone—”

“we’ll be absolutely fine,” he assures you. “even though you’re abandoning us to have dinner with the hot lesbians.”

after slipping your coat on, you reach up to pinch your boyfriend’s cheek. “keep yourself and the kids out of trouble, and i will bring you back some leftovers.”

“oh, come on. what kind of trouble could myself, an eight year old, and a nine year old get into?”

_____

“we’re not allowed in this neighbourhood.”

gojo places his whole hand on the megumi’s face, hushing him. “what mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her. besides, this is where uncle nanami lives. we’re just visiting for the full sized candy bars that he gives out.”

“but you told us to distract him so you could get inside,” tsumiki points out, blinking up at him with those oh-so-innocent eyes. “isn’t that…breaking and entering?”

gojo pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “okay, just cause you’re dressed like ruth bader ginsburg doesn’t mean you have to judge me." he crouches down to their height, levelling them with steady looks. "all you guys need to do is stick to the plan, alright? you go up, do the whole, 'trick or treat!' shtick, then megumi, you make...well, whatever sound a frog makes. tsumiki, you argue with him or something, i don't know. keep him occupied."

he almost can't keep a straight face as megumi nods, the frog cap strapped to his head bouncing as he does so.

"okay, now go!" he commands, nudging them forward. "door 69!"

megumi glances back at him, a frown curved on his lips. "isn't it--"

"just go!"

gojo darts out of sight before he can see that it's not nanami who answers the door.

_____

your flat, unimpressed tone seeps through the phone, making gojo shudder. "you really thought it'd be a good idea to break into mei mei's house on halloween? one of the most active nights of the year?"

"okay, well it's not my fault she lives right next to nanami!" he huffs. "i was just going to go in, grab that really expensive bottle of scotch you like, and get out! i was doing it for you!"

he can picture the face you're making right now. you're not at all swooning, and that was clearly not the right argument to make. "the kids almost got their eyes pecked out by crows when they were running away."

"but we ran away together," he emphasizes. "that sounds like a core memory if you ask me. something you wouldn't want to miss out on making next year, right?"

"you're damn right i won't, dipshit!"

and sure, megumi and tsumiki's costumes have been pecked to hell by some birds, but they're laughing (at him, but whatever), sharing candy and toothy smiles. and that's always a sign of a night well spent, gojo thinks.

[jovilevine]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 that she couldn't stay had arisen from the closet she had tossed the rest of her skeletons in, seeping from underneath her door. Perhaps the irony of it all was that she knew she had to run because she had never loved anyone else like Alex Kingsley. Something in her knew she couldn't stay to watch her undoing, as much as she wished to carry her through every storm. But Alex was creating too many of them all by herself. The reality had shattered her to the core. "I mean.. fair enough. Would have gone for his ex-wife any day. Jenna Dewan is hot." Pressing two of the pads of her fingers together in a sign of sealing her statement, yet another laugh came. At the mention of the cap, Jovi gave the other yet another gentle nudge. "Maybe. Ya think it would go with this outfit? Could be the piece this dress is missin'." While one arm kept her upright from behind her, the one further away from Alex outstretches to emphasize her glee. Well, her drunken glee. Even then, she had always been told that alcohol lowers peoples inhibitions and reveals their true selves. Her face fell a moment as Alex continued to speak, knowing damn well that she wasn't just speaking in an attempt to make her feel better. It was as if she was also talking to herself. But then again, the woman could feel the others words deep within her core.

"I always thought Carter was a self-absorbed jackass. But.. their victims? Those people? Why them?" No matter what answer Alex tried to find, Jovi knew there wasn't one. They had done nothing to deserve this. The Shadow had decided their town was damned, when all they had been trying to do was keep moving forward. We're all scared, Jo. What Alex didn't know was that The Shadow wasn't the only thing that Jovi was scared of. What she feared was sitting right next to her, holding out a joint. Taking the instrument between her fingers, she tried to take in as much of the drug as she could. Maybe it would make her feel more sane. "That's not the only thing I'm scared of." The words had come out before she could even stop them. "I also... I never got to tell you how sorry I am. For running like I did."

Every time she had been close to Jovi since she had moved to Hidehill it had felt like no time had passed between them, and it felt like she was looking at a complete stranger simultaneously. But Jovi could never be a stranger. She was the only person who wasn't family that Alex had ever allowed herself to love, and the only person she ever would. Even if they never ended up together, even in the worst-case scenario. Like many aspects of Alex's personality - it was her or nothing. She'd decided on that long ago, and stuck by it even after she left. Alex laughed and nodded, "yeah, the lack of tits really don't go in his favour either," she smirked before laughing again as Jovi entertained her hat comment. "So what I'm hearin' is a bright red baseball cap is on the top of your wanted present list?" Alex sat down on the shawl, again a familiar yet distant feeling. Another sigh and shrug of her shoulders, nodding to what the other was saying. If anyone knew what it was like to live in fear, it was her. She was born into fear, moulded by it, crippled by it. If there was a human persona of the word fear, it was Alex's dad. "You kinda learn to live with that, y'know... Once you realise that's what they want-- they wanna stop fuckin' everyone's lives 'cause theirs is so shit and miserable," she took the joint back, took another drag, glanced across to the woman who made her keep living - more times than she would ever know. Even when she was gone. "I dunno, ain't like anyone's exactly got a handle on the best way to deal with all this, we're all just-- we're all scared, Jo, you ain't alone in that... Don't think you ever will be."

[sainzfilm]

hello can you do a pierre gasly x driver!reader where they’re friends and always flirting but pierre does something that accidentally makes reader jealous so he makes it up to her? thank you ❤️

pairing: pierre gasly x driver!reader

a/n: i love the jealousy trope sm i want it to happen to me irl……but then again not all men are pierre gasly

ps. i nicknamed her ace :) just because i thought it’d be nice to make her the new star of ferrari and im making her a duo with carlos!

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

“She’s won twice from provisional pole in Formula 1 and is going to win from pole again! To start the season off with celebrations from Ferrari, Y/N Y/L/N wins the Bahrain Grand Prix!”

Zooming past the checkered flag, you screamed through the radio as your race engineer congratulated you, “We fucking did it! Oh my god!”

Your race engineer chuckled as she clapped through the radio, “Fantastic race, ace! Well done, you coped brilliantly today.”

“It’s unbelievable,” You exhaled deeply as you threw your fist up in the air, “This won’t be the last time.”

The crowd cheered and screamed as you pulled yourself out and stood on top of the car, waving your home flag as you basked in the victory once again.

Making your way up to the podium alongside Lewis and Carlos, you grinned as you held the trophy up, spotting a familiar pair of blue eyes looking up at you with a smile.

It didn’t take long enough as you immediately went down to run up to Pierre as he wrapped you in a big hug, “Great job, ace. You proved that you’re worthy of your seat in Ferrari.”

“It was a tough one honestly,” You mumbled against his neck as you sighed and hugged him tighter, “You started off the season with points too!”

He laughed as he grabbed his cap from his head and placed it on yours, “Enough about me, darling. Wanna walk to the holding for post race interviews?”

“Of course,” You smiled as you bowed down and offered your hand, “Shall we go, monsieur Gasly?”

Pierre bowed down and grabbed your hand, “Always, mademoiselle Y/L/N.”

Laughing as you walked alongside each other, Pierre’s hand never failed to find home around your waist, which caused drivers and fans to always tease you about a possible blooming relationship with the Alpha Tauri driver.

“You wanna go out for a snack after? I discovered this new food park nearby,” You nudged his shoulder, “Just to have a mini celebration.”

Pierre frowned as he pulled his arm away and sighed, “Oh. Uh, I’m going out with a friend. She’d probably get upset if I cancelled so suddenly.”

Friend. She. Maybe you should’ve not assumed that what you had with Pierre was going somewhere beyond friendship.

“I see,” You nodded slowly as you forced a smile and took his cap off your head and gave it back to him, “I’ll go ahead. Have fun with…uh, your friend.”

Pierre frowned as he couldn’t say anything return from how quickly you left to attend to your post race interviews. He didn’t miss the way you forcibly smiled at him, even the way you emphasized the word ‘friend’.

Post race interviews were dragging – maybe it was because of Pierre. You should’ve been happier, you snatched the season’s first win. But, why was this bothering you so much?

Did you like Pierre? No, you couldn’t. This was the guy that you jokingly flirted with. That was all it was to him. It’s on yourself for falling for those antics.

“Ay, ace,” Carlos nudged your shoulder gently as you two rode up the elevator in the hotel, “What’s been going on with you? You’ve been so…out of it since the post race interviews.”

You shook your head and ran a hand down your face, sighing in the process, “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

“You sure about that?” Carlos raised his eyebrow, “So that’s Gasly’s name now? Nothing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Carlos,” You gritted through your teeth as you crossed you arms, “Who cares about him?”

Your Spanish teammate chuckled as he patted your shoulder and exited the elevator, “Sure, ace. Keep telling yourself that. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Scoffing, you called out as he entered his hotel room, “He sucks! All you boys are the same!”

“Who sucks?”

You stopped in front of your door as you held onto your keycard tightly, “What are you doing here?”

Pierre sighed as he put his hands inside his pocket, “Uh…I just wanted to check up on you.”

“I’m fine, there’s nothing to worry about,” You mumbled as you opened your hotel room, “It’s late now. You’re going to be late for your plans.”

“Ace, hold on,” Pierre grabbed your hand quickly, turning you around to face him, “Be honest with me. Did I do something to upset you?”

“I said, nothing,” You pulled your hand away from him and frowned, “I’m tired, Pierre. I want to go to sleep.”

Taking a deep breath, Pierre looked in your eyes, “I…cancelled my plans with her.”

“So? What do you want me to do about it?”

“I know that’s the reason why you’re upset,” He replied as he grabbed your hand once again, “She’s just a friend. Nothing more than that.”

You frowned as you looked at him, glancing at his hand holding yours, “Why does this concern me?”

“Because you’re not a friend to me,” He mumbled as he cleared his throat, “You’re more than that. I should’ve realized that sooner, ace.”

“Pierre…”

“I promise, I’m not lying,” He squeezed your hand as he gave you a small smile, “I want…I want to see where this goes.”

“You sure about it?” You looked up at him, voice feeling smaller than usual, “I don’t want to jump in something if you’re not all in.”

“I’m all in, ace,” He looked down at you, gently caressing your face, “Let me make it up to you. Day by day. I’ll prove myself.”

Huffing, you frowned as you rolled your eyes and hugged him tightly, “You better. I’ll make sure you’ll have a DNF next to your name in the next races of the season if you’re fooling around.”

Pierre chuckled as he wrapped an arm around you, kissing the top of your head, “You still wanna go to that food park now?”

You tried to fight back a small smile as you looked up at him, resting your chin on his chest, “Your treat?”

“Anything for you, ace.”

bonus scene!

“Ay, what’s taking her so long…” Carlos mumbled as he knocked louder on your hotel room, “Y/N! We’re about to leave now!”

As the door swung open, Carlos couldn’t believe who he saw in front of his eyes, having to blink a few times before he was certain.

“Huh? This isn’t your room?” Carlos raised his eyebrow as he paused for a moment and grinned, “I knew it.”

“She’s…uh almost ready,” Pierre smiled sheepishly as he scratched the back of his neck, “Sorry she woke up late. I took her out to the food park last night.”

“Sure, Pierre,” The Spaniard smirked as he patted his shoulder, “Just be sure to take good care of her. She’s like a little sister.”

Panting, you pulled your suitcase out of the room as you looked at the two drivers out in the hallway, “I’m ready?”

“Time to go, Gasly’s!” Carlos clapped as he grinned and ruffled up your hair, “Wait until Charles hears about this.”

“Damn it, Carlos! Come back here, don’t tell him yet!”

[fandomfluffandfuck]

I know there's a LOT of love out there for shrunkyclunks (re: twink, modern day Bucky with Captian America Steve) and I do love me some modern Bucky and Cap Steve. I really really do. However, may we consider-

Captain America Steve and modern, not twink but silver fox Bucky?

Silver fox Bucky that isn't as old as Steve, obviously, but he is older. Mature with a youthful soul, playful as a cat still believing itself to be a kitten despite greying fur.

Steve is 26, 27, 28 while Bucky is in his late 40s, crossing the bridge to his 50s.

Particularly, I'm picturing silver fox Bucky that has fully grey hair, root to tips, because he started going grey early. (His beard also grows out grey when he doesn't shave.) His hair usually is pinned back, it's long enough to arrange into a messy yet effortlessly gorgeous bun- he jokes that he's got to keep it long while he still has it while knowing that there's no male pattern baldness in his family. Really, he likes it. Also, Bucky likes how much Steve likes it. Those grey-blue eyes look more blue than ever, next to his faded hair and emphasized by handsome crows feet. Smile lines have never looked more gorgeous than they do on Bucky. Readers for particularly small fonts - needed after years of squinting at screens on the job (medical engineering has a lot more computer models and spread sheets than you would even think naturally) - have never been so intimate to see. It has never been so intimate, precious to watch someone power down for the evening, stepping out of work clothes and into sweats, shaking out his hair, and putting his glasses on.

Looks aside, Steve feels his real age around Bucky (among feeling all the butterflies). He feels like he is only in his 20s, his partner older and guiding his gently, elegantly through the world. Affectionate. Careful. Steve is so, so in love with him; he is his partner but also his mentor in some ways.

Steve feels his age around Bucky, refreshingly. He falls asleep with his head in Bucky's lap in the evening, wanting to continue watching the movie on the TV set, flickering over his tired features, of which isn't actually filmed with explosions and blood but have instead been added after. With special effects that look like real life, impossibly. He uses slang that he's picked up from Sam and Nat, common among their generation, and Bucky, confused, will look up from whatever he's doing to say, "the hells that, Stevie?" Because he's heard that before, sure, he just doesn't know the meaning. And he's never asked for fear of judgement for not being hip and with the kids. Steve will watch Bucky wince as he gets up in the morning, naked with sheets falling gracefully from his bare skin, lit warmly, and laugh softly when his partner grumbles, "be glad you don't age, Stevie, it fuckin' sucks," because he slept wrong. He'll have a crick in his neck for the rest of the day.

The nickname Bucky gives him in of itself makes Steve feel young. It feels warm every time it comes off of his tongue. It feels like a hand ruffling through his hair. Like an older kid trying to get under his skin. Stevie.

Most notably though, looking at Bucky, Steve is not afraid of time. He is not afraid of age- of aging.

Steve does not see time as a weapon of hurt and loss, looking between Bucky's face and the photographs of him in his youth (or even looking back at photos of him when he was Steve's current age). He sees stories of love and laughter and happiness painted joyously over his skin. He sees lived knowledge, wisdom (as cliché as it is), and acceptance of the self...