#and I’m going with that because it had more respect for her than her goddamn creator

[dcoasis]

Random but I’m thinking about black MCU characters and the fact that she never got a name after debuting in 2017 still pisses me off.

[lovelytsunoda]

glad I crashed the wedding // oscar piastri

summary: she needed a wedding date. he wanted a reason to spend time with her. but of course, the inn only has one bed, and oscar makes her feel alive in a way she's never felt before.

pairing: oscar piastri x female! reader

warnings: sexual tension, one bed trope, difficult sister relationship (though they love each other very very much), eventual smut, fake dating (I’ve been reading too much Ana Huang lately)

“so let me get this straight,” she began, swirling the coconut-mango-pineapple icy drink in her hand, leaning back against the photocopier. “you, the great oscar piastri, wants to come home with me to be my date for my sisters wedding, and you don’t want anything in return?”

oscar nodded, a wide grin on his face as the copy machine continued to churn out waivers for the hot lap guests to sign. “that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“but why?”

oscar shrugged, trying to come up with a convincing lie. “because I’m your friend. and this is what friends do.”

y/n sighed, sipping her drink before turning away from the driver. keeping eye contact was dangerous when it was with oscar piastri. when it was with the man who set her nerve endings on fire, who made her stomach churn like the rising tide with a gesture as small as a wave, or an offer to buy her a drink.

who had an accent that made her core throb, soaking her panties right through when she thought about how his voice would sound in her ear if he was whispering some less-than-holy things to her.

“I don’t want to subject you to the insanity. you might not want to be friends after you meet my family. we can’t even be in the same room sometimes, it’s like dropping a match onto a pile of dry leaves.”

oscar laughed and she tried to ignore the shivers the sound sent up her spine, the rising goose flesh on her arms as she counted the waivers, having to start the count over again more than a few times.

“I’m sure they’re not that bad.” oscar reasoned, taking the file folder from her, insisting on lightening her load. “I just want you to feel at ease.”

she rolled her eyes, grabbing her drink as she started to walk out of the motorhome. “I’ve been living in delias shadow since I was fourteen. she’s a well respected medical professional; and I went to a three year college. everything she does is perfect. hell, she’s getting married this weekend and here I am, convincing myself that letting you tag along is a good idea so I don’t look like I’m going to die alone.”

it’s not like she wasn’t successful. she was a part of the legal team for one one of the biggest racing names in the world. when Oscar’s contract dispute started, she had been the one who served otmar his papers (and to this day, saying the words “otmar szafanuer you have been served, see you in court” was still one of the finest moments of her career).

it’s just that delia always brought out the worst in her, every insecurity, every flaw she hated about herself. their childhood has been fraught with insecurity and competition.

she sighed, leaning against one of the paddocks scratchy palm trees, bark digging into the skin on her arms. oscar was still trying to plead his case, and she wondered why she was fighting it.

this is what she wanted, wasn’t it? oscar on her arm, making her feel like she was wanted, loved, even?

she took another sip of her drink before she spoke again.

“we’ll probably have to share a hotel room, and my dad might threaten you with his antique saw collection. you’ll also have to stop me from killing delia with my bare hands before the big day.”

oscar chuckled, handing back her file folder. “I think I can handle that.”

that goddamn smile. that’s where it all started, when she first started to think about his lips on hers, his hands in her hair, his mouth wrapped around her nipples.

why on earth was she agreeing to this?

“you’d better be up bright and early tomorrow. it’s a long flight and my dad is meeting us at the airport. as far as everyone knows, I’m not bringing a date.”

the feeling of his hand against the small of her back burned into her skin. she could feel his body heat through the thick fabric of her papaya golf shirt as he started guiding her towards the garage where the hot laps were being conducted.

“oscar, what are you doing?”

he grinned at her, baring his pearl-white teeth, in their slightly uneven top row. “if we’re going to convince your dad that we’re together, we’d better start practicing.”

god, this man was going to be the death of her.

————

she regretted inviting oscar along the second they got off the plane.

from the moment they passed through airport security, it was as if a switch had been flicked in her brain, converting him from the serious, driven race car driver she met at the track, to a man straight out of the romance book she had been listening to on the flight. his hand was rooted to her back protectively, and he wouldn't let her carry any of her luggage on her own.

she could get used to this, she thought, watching his t-shirt ride up over his defined abs as he reached into the overhead cabin to pull down her two small suitcases.

they walked peacefully through the terminal, oscar pushing the baggage cart with one hand, his free arm looped over her shoulder.

"you know you don't have to act like my boyfriend until we see my father, right?" she said hesitantly, running a thumb over his knuckles. "my feelings won't get hurt if you don't want to pretend when nobody else is around.

oscar acted like he was about to say something, but he was cut off by a shout across the airport.

"y/n!" the voice shouted. "there's my girl!"

"dad!" she shouted, breaking away from oscar's side to launch herself into her father's arms. the constant travel that came with working in formula one took it's toll, and she didn't get to see her father as often as she liked. she'd had to move to england to work with mclaren, and her family had stayed behind.

she never said she loved that part of her job, but a little space away from her family often made her appreciate them a little more.

"dad, i want you to meet someone." she started, waving at oscar, who lumbered over with the weighed-down baggage cart. "this is my boyfriend, oscar." despite the lie, and how foreign the words were, saying them almost felt right.

my boyfriend oscar.

"i'm carl, nice to meet you." her father said, his voice a slight bit more gentle than his usual grunt.

oscar shook carl's hand, a bit of weariness on his face as he slipped his smooth, dainty hand inside carl's larger, more calloused one. "nice to meet you, sir."

carl raised an eyebrow. "australian? you'd better not be giving my daughter any of those australian kisses."

"dad, what the hell!?" she whined, hiding her face behind her hands as a blush began to coat her cheeks. if there was one thing she definitely was not getting from oscar piastri, it was australian kisses.

oscar thought she was cute when she was flustered. it was such a shame it took him an hot minute to figure out why.

australian kisses are like french kisses, just down under. it was mark who had said it to him first, in an attempt to be funny. as the meaning set in for oscar, he found himself silently cursing mark webber.

but it didn't mean he didn't get half-hard thinking about having his head between y/n's thighs.

________

"you've got to be shitting me."

she knew they would be sharing a bedroom. all of the plus ones were rooming in the chic, trendy motel with the guests who had invited them. and that would have been fine.

except that this hotel only had a queen bed, done up with plush white sheets and a small turquoise blanket draped over the bottom half.

a queen bed that she would have to share with a man that she wished would fuck her brains out.

"i can call the main office if you want." oscar suggested softly, reaching for the door handle. "i can see if they have another room, or they could bring a cot in for me?"

she sighed, raking her hair over her head as she looked around the room. "don't bother. the motel only has fifteen rooms, and it's booked solid for delia's wedding, between her bridal party and the fiancée's family, i doubt they'd even really have a cot. we can manage, right?"

oscar nodded, hands buried deep in his sweatpant pockets. damn those gray sweats.

"we can make a towel barrier, and the bed is more than big enough for both of us. hell, we could probably have a threesome on that bed and still have space."

did oscar piastri not have a single drop of shame?

she shook her head, trying to forget the thought of a half-naked oscar hovering over her, whispering things in her ear. she made a grab for her suitcase placing it on the bed and grabbing a handful of clothes and a travel bath and body works bottle.

"i'm going for a shower, can we talk about this afterwards? i'm jet lagged and i really just want to sleep."

"sure." oscar shrugged, spreading hismelf out on the bed, arms over his head so that his shirt once again showed off his stunning lower torso.

she tried to stop herself from staring at the happy trail dipping under oscar's waistband, but she failed miserably, her eyes following the small trail of hair down to the waistband of his jack and jones boxers, to the impressive lump underneath his jeans.

if his cock was that big when it was soft, how would it feel when it was hard, throbbing and inside of her. just the mere thought was making heat grow between her legs-

nope. we're not going there today.

she squeaked out some kind of muffled statement, clutching her clothes to her chest and making a mad dash towards the bathroom door. a cold shower should fix this, right?

when oscar heard the shower turn on, the music clicking on soon after, he sat up on the bed, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes. he knew he should shower as well, but the fatigue of air travel was beginning to set in. a small nap wouldn't hurt, right?

he got up from the bed, socked feet sliding against the laminate floor as he reached for the wheels on the bottom of y/n's suitcase. all he needed to do was close the suitcase, move it out of the way, close his eyes, and then drift of into a peaceful slumber.

all he had to do was hope that he didn't wake up hard, or moan her name in his sleep. it should be easy, right?

wrong. the suitcase slipped out of his grip, almost sliding off the bed before he thanked god for his reflexes, stopping the suitcase from hitting the floor, save for a few articles of clothing.

he leaned down picking up the black busted tour shirt and denim shorts, his breath catching in his throat when he saw what was resting on the area rug underneath.

it was a mass of bright peach lace, the color so close to the mclaren signature papaya, his heart hammering in his chest as he picked it up and unraveled the halter bralette. he bit back a moan as he stared at the lace and mesh that left very little to the imagination.

he started to think about his mild-mannered co-worker wearing it, her perky nipples pressing against the bright, skimpy fabric.

the mere thought sent all the blood rushing straight to his cock.

god, he was down so bad that it should be criminal.

he shouldn’t be thinking about whispering dirty sweet nothings against her skin, or sucking a hickey into her thigh before he plunges his tongue inside of her.

he shouldn’t be thinking about anything that would make his boner worse.

and that was when he heard the bathroom door open. and there wasn’t enough time to hide the sweat seeping from the pores on his skin, the tent in his sweatpants, or the fact that he was still holding the offending lingerie in his hands.

“it’s not what it looks like!” the driver sputters, turning around to face her, and bitting his lip to stop himself from losing whatever composure he has left.

she’s wearing booty shorts that barely cover her backside, the ass emblazoned with the acronym for the college she attended, her top half covered with a loose-fitting muscle tank sporting a skeleton on a surfboard, the sides of her bare tits just barely visible through the arm holes.

“oscar,” she breathed, voice raspy when she saw the tent pitched in his pants. “do i turn you on?”

“you have since the day I met you.” he admits, dropping the bra and slowly moving closer, hesitantly running his hands down her still-warm sides. “tell me, y/n, do you touch yourself when you think about me?”

“i could ask you the same.” she shot back, her voice wavering as she pressed her hand shakily against oscars clothed cock. “your boyfriend act didn’t feel like an act this morning.”

they shouldn’t be doing this. it was crossing so many lines. but when oscar looked her dead in the eyes and breathed out a single word, all thoughts of self control went out the window.

"yes."

she pressed her lips against his, nipples springing to attention as she pressed her front against his, his hands moving from her sides to squeeze and caress her breasts, her mouth falling open in a moan against his lips. oscar took that chance to slip his tongue inside her mouth, his hands migrating to her hair as he maneuvered their bodies towards the bed.

she took the lead once her back hit the mattress, practically ripping her tank top off and casting it aside, hands making a mad grab for oscar's plain white shirt while he kissed and marked up her neck.

she whimpered under his touch, and would have been embarrassed had she not been so turned on.

"oscar, please." she begged, spreading her thighs as she tried to grind her core against his thigh. "i need you. i need your cock so deep inside me that i can still feel it three days later."

oscar practically growled at the admission, pulling his lips off her right tit. "are you begging for me, pretty girl? do you want me to make you feel good? hm, want me to treat you right?"

"yes." she breathed, tucking a hand underneath his boxers. "please, oscar."

god, his name sounded so sexy rolling off her tongue. he couldn't think straight when she had her slender fingers wrapped around his cock.

"are you sure you want this? because once i have you, i won't let you go. i'll need more."

"i'm sure, oscar. and i'm not just saying that because i think your mild possessiveness is kind of hot."

oscar smiled, a small, imperceptible blush forming on his cheeks. "you think i'm hot."

"since the day i met you." she hummed, sewing her lips to his, her fingers tugging on his hair, a small moan leaving his throat.

"oh, so pretty boy likes it when i tug on his hair." she giggled. "i learn something new every day."

"keep talking like that, and you won't be able to walk in the morning."

"i look forward to it."

oscar looked around, his eyes settling on the mirror hanging opposite the bed, right next to the bathroom door. he felt his dick throb as an idea formed in his head, pulling away from the body lying prone on the bed.

"shorts off, all-fours on the bed facing that mirror." he ordered, trying to keep a gentle tone in his voice as he clambered off the bed, stripping out of his sweatpants and boxers, hard member jutting straight out as her touched himself, trying to find some kind of release from the pressure between his legs.

she shivered at the command before making a show of dropping her shorts to show off the cream coloured cotton thong she was wearing, laughing to herself when oscar's eyes rolled back in his skull, a moan escaping his throat.

"god, you're going to be the death of me, sweetheart."

she couldn't deny the excitement in her bones as she settled herself on the bed, arousal literally dripping down her thighs when she looked in the mirror and saw oscar looking at her, mounting the bed behind her before slapping his cock against her ass.

in a more tender, loving action, oscar leaned over her, pressing a kiss to the top of her spine.

"you're so pretty." he whispered, the compliment sinking into her skin like tattoo ink before he sunk into her, gripping her hips and closing his eyes to try and show some restraint as she got used to his size.

it was a sinful picture in that motel room mirror as he began to rut into her, watching her tits shake in the mirror, listening to her sweet whimpers and whines and pleads for more.

"god, yes, oscar! feels so-so fucking good, oh my god."

he met her eyes in the mirror, sweat running down his chest and dripping onto her back as he kept thrusting, the same relentless pace. "you're so good for me, pretty girl. so stunning, so sexy with my cock inside you like this. god, you're prefect. perfectly mine."

he practically growled the last word, knowing damn well that he was ruined for any other woman.

-------

they woke up in a tangled heap of limbs, not knowing where one body ended and the other began, lazily exchanging kisses as the sun rose outside.

"oscar, we have to go to the rehearsal." she whined as he kissed her neck. "if we're late, i'm never going to hear the end of it."

"don't care." oscar hums, running his hands up and down her sides. "i would gladly stay in bed with you all day and order room service so we don't ever have to leave."

"osc." she warned, sitting up in the bed and pulling the duvet over her chest. "we're going to the rehearsal. i'm a bridesmaid, remember?"

fifteen minutes later, oscar was in the bathroom steam-cleaning the wrinkles out of his suit while she tried on the bridesmaid dress, caramel fabric falling over her skin as she stared at herself in the mirror.

the same mirror where, just twelve hours before, she had watched oscar piastri fuck her brains out.

she felt heat on her hips, and didn't even need to look up to realize that it was oscars hands, gently caressing her skin through the satin. he gently kissed her shoulder blades, his hands moving to do up the zipper she couldn't quite reach.

"you look beautiful." he hummed, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "you deserve better than me."

she giggled softly, tugging his arms away from her hips and around her waist, sinking back into his arms. "no i don't. you're exactly what i want, oscar. you're funny and you're sweet and you make me feel like the best version of myself. you're also really great in bed."

oscar laughed, kissing her softly. he would never get tired of feeling her lips against his. "the boyfriend stuff was never an act. and i volunteered to come with you this weekend because i wanted to get to know you off the track. who you are when you aren't serving legal papers to team principals."

"i only did that once. i missed out on the chance to fight with chip ganassi since arrow has a different legal team." she laughed. "i really like you, oscar."

"and i really like you too, y/n. my perfect, beautiful girl."

-------

the wedding came and went, marking the end of y/n and oscar's dream weekend, the reminder that very soon, they would all be going back to their real lives.

that she and oscar would need to figure out where they stood with each other.

but she didn't want to think about that. not while she was dancing with her sister, the pair of them finally getting along as they screeched the words to an old tove lo song.

oscar watched from the table, sitting next to y/n's mother and making polite conversation as his lovesick eyes found her under the disco lights.

"someone is feeling lovesick tonight." mrs. y/l/n hummed. "we heard you two last night. the motel walls aren't as thick as you think."

oscar blanched, coughing on his drink. "you heard all that?"

y/n's mom laughed. "her father had to leave the room and get a coffee before he walked in there and strangled you. y/n is always going to be his little girl. but she's growing up, and i think if she has you in her life, she'll be okay. you're good together."

oscar was about to say something else when a shout rang through the room. "delia is doing the bouquet toss!"

all of the members of each wedding party gathered in the middle of the floor, y/n's sister standing on the dj stand, her white dress brushing against the floor and picking up specs of dust and dirt, as she lifted the bouquet over her head.

y/n mother rested her hand on oscar's forearm, staring at him with a knowing look, hoping her other daughter would be the next to tie the knot.

sure enough, it was almost like fate as the boquet of white roses soared into the air, nailing y/n right in the face and tumbling into her arms as the other bridesmaids cheered. her face was pink and she was trying to hide behind the bouqet as delia came to pull her into a hug.

"i love you, sis. and i'm sorry i didn't know how to show it when we were younger." delia gushed, kissing her baby sister on the forehead before nodding her head at oscar. "you've got a good one. don't let him get away."

"i won't." she laughed, wiping at the tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. "i love you, deels."

the song changed, a slow kesha ballad humming through the speakers as the singer crooned about her old flame, and how they couldn't hold a candle to her current love. she turned away from her sister, who had just gone to find her new spouse to dance with, only to see oscar, looking dapper in his black suit and bowtie.

"can i have this dance, my love?"

she smiled, leaving her bouquet with her mother before stepping into oscar's arms, wishing for nothing more than to wrap herself around him like a woolen sweater. she rested her head against his chest, allowing herself to fall into him while they swayed to the music, his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead as dolly parton began to sing the second half of the song.

man, she could really get used to this.

get used to oscar.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh @silverstonesainz @lorarri @love4lando @thatsdemko @diorleclerc

[glassballdinosaurs]

She’s literally not a victim but go off I guess. She’s done the same thing to her previous ex.

Actually, I HAVE been a victim of abuse. When I watched Shubble’s video, I had a REALLY bad gut feeling. While trauma affects people differently, there are common ways trauma manifests. Shubble in no way comes off as a victim. She sounds vindictive and all her fidgeting doesn’t read as anxious but rather insincerity of her statements.

Wilbur made a statement, not an apology. He was genuinely shocked. He signed a record contract iirc so he legally can’t speak on the subject. It’s evident he was told to make some sort of statement to minimize damage. But considering how blown out of proportion this has become, even if he WERE to speak about his perspective, the internet has already played judge, jury, and executioner. A lot of his friends haven’t unfollowed him. Niki was a victim prior to Wilbur so she’s likely second-guessing every interaction between herself and Wil because Shubble has thrown doubt on Wilbur’s character. Minx is a liar and an alcoholic as far as I know. I don’t watch her or Niki’s content so I don’t really know enough about them to accurately judge them. I’m just not going to. I feel far more empathy for Niki than Shubble though.

Wilbur isn’t part of my identity. I’ve personally been falsely accused of being abusive, by my own abuser no less, and because she was persuasive people believed her over me. Thankfully, I’m not famous enough for it to have wrecked my life. But seeing how blindly devoted people are to Shubble and how they see her as someone who can do no harm and convict Wilbur on the flimsy evidence that is word of mouth makes me all the more dubious of Shubble and her followers.

Shubble profited heavily on these allegations. If she genuinely cared, she should have told her followers specific signs to avoid in relationships to not fall victim to abusive people. But no. Money and clout are more valuable than morals. She’s 30 years old and Wilbur’s 27 and this should have been a private conversation between the two of them rather than Shelby deciding to make false allegations.

Shubble and Wilbur seemed, from Shubble’s video anyway, to have had a bad relationship for BOTH of them. But a bad relationship isn’t inherently abusive. Shubble seems to conflate the two and equates Wilbur’s depression to him being a bad person. Shubble accused him of financial abuse without actually knowing what that IS.

I genuinely am worried about Wilbur because he’s been open about being depressed and anxious. I’m terrified that he’ll be doxxed and the death threats aimed at him and the people manifesting desires for him to join the 27 club sickens me to phrase it mildly. Why on Earth would I support Shubble or her followers upon seeing this behavior?

I’m not blindly following Wilbur. I don’t trust Shubble’s intentions. Her behavior is appalling. She actively liked posts about Wilbur killing himself. She blocks anyone who asks for clarification regarding her abuse or anything who doesn’t instantly believe her. Teenagers have literally died over this but she denies it happened. Her ‘evidence’ is lacking at best and completely false at worst. There’s no concrete evidence. False allegations can be believed once other people throw their weight in support of them. Shubble is a disgusting human being and her actions speak just that.

I could discuss my perspective in more detail but neither of us are going to change our or each other’s minds.

If you support Shubble/Shelby Grace unfollow and block me right now. She lied for clout and doesn’t give a fuck about the consequences.

I support Wilbur Soot and there’s nothing any of you morons can do to stop that

[modernquackfare]

Hi, I'm hoping I'm in the right place to send in a request. I was wondering if you'd do konig taking a new rookie reader (female) to practice her aim as she sucks. (I like fluff, but if it can end in nsfw, all the better)

A/N: Thanks so much for the request! Sorry for taking a while to finish it up 😭Hope you like!

König/Fem!Reader - Aim Training

CW: Description of light violence, PIV sex, cum eating (kind of), bad jokes MDNI

A few inches. You missed by a few goddamn inches.

You didn’t know his name—had likely never spoken to him before. But you were to only one to watch as a blade sank into his ribs, snuffing out a life that you failed to save, because you missed your shot.

Eventually, you managed to avenge the poor man by taking the life of the one who took his—but the memory of the ordeal kept you up at night. So here you are, four weeks later, practicing your aim close to midnight when the lights have long since been dimmed, everyone in their respective barracks or rooms, or finishing up for the night.

Reload. BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM. Reload.

“I don’t mean to…er, be rude, but you seem to be missing more than you are striking,” a raspy, mirthful voice sounds out. You startle. In the midst of firing through your eighth magazine, you must have missed the sound of the door clicking, and König walking through.

König. You don’t know him well, what with him always being silent during briefings, off on a mission, or back home outside of deployment, wherever that may be. What you do know, though, is that he’s an absolute unit, a formidable leader, and always the most anxious one in a crowded room. Perhaps that’s what surprises you the most, seeing as how he’s so cavalierly speaking to you, as if you are his friend of years past.

Maybe you just don’t intimidate him. The thought, strangely, angers you. He’s not even your direct superior—what makes him so qualified to pick apart your abilities? You scoff softly. He can fuck off and do his own shooting, on the other side of the range.

“It’s why I’m here to practice,” you mutter, toeing the line of a snarky remark.

König chuckles, a stupidly amused laugh that makes you want to turn your pistol to him. Of course, you don’t. “Practice…only works when you practice right. Keep going like that, I don’t foresee any improvement in your aim.”

“Foresee my foot up your—“ You silently mutter before calming yourself. That too only elicits a breath of amusement from the man, and before you know it there’s a presence behind you. Unwanted, and yet overly willing to butt his head into what doesn't concern him.

“First—don’t think so much about missing. And shoot on the exhale, when you can.” König gestures towards the targets at the end of the range, "Bend your knees slightly, and don't fight the recoil. Here—like this." He demonstrates with a phantom gun, and you can't resist the laugh that escapes your lips, watching him pose beside you. König seems to take it in stride and laughs just as much, if not more than you, before releasing his pose once it seemed you had the hang of it. Still, mere poses don't seem to satisfy him. Before you know it, his hands are on your gun. "Adjust your grip, spatz, you're strangling it," he murmurs. Gloved fingers gently, deftly reposition yours, coaxing your angrily tense hands into loosening up. "Give it some room to move, and don't pull the trigger. Squeeze it, like, eh—a lemon."

He makes a motion with his fingers and hand, as if holding a taco. What a dork. You giggle in response. "You're gonna make me hungry."

"Then go have a snack, once you've learned." König's hand closes over yours, and for a moment you shiver. What's with that? You hope he didn't notice.

There's a presence on your shoulder before you can gather your bearings. His head, shrouded by that homemade t-shirt mask of his, peeks over beside your cheek. “The front sight must line up perfectly with the rear," König mutters, practically embracing you as he lays a hand on your shoulder, and moves the other to tilt up your arms, just enough for said sights to line up. "Focus on the front sight more than the target.”

"God, that bad?" You laugh as he moves your hands way farther up.

"Not bad. Improving. It's...how do you say...work in progress."

Even as he perfects your aim, König doesn't pull back. "Better," He rumbles, right in your ear, warmth curling around his words. That little hitch of breath sends you somewhere deep into a hole of imagery that you don't dare to follow down. He may not be your superior, and this may not be the military, but he still outranks you.

"Yeah?" You pant, helpless to your brain's trickery.

König's hand, still on your shoulder, his arm looped around you—still, you wouldn't dare to fantasize. But what a sweet thought that is, of his gloves catching on your skin as he—No. You won't do this to yourself. "You could be a very good shot, spatz," König nudges you, as if congratulating a student on an excellent test score. "A few more weeks in the range, some guidance, and you'll be cured of your Izzy-itis yet." "Izzy...itis?" You murmur, questioningly.

König waves it away. "Inside joke. She was a very bad shot, unless they were moving."

"Guidance, though..." You probe, perhaps out of a stroke of boldness from succeeding at hitting targets for once in your sharpshooting career. "Not sure if anyone's going to want to stick around and train me for that long."

König's gaze flashes just the way you pictured it would, his hand sliding from your shoulder, down to the middle of your back. If you visibly shuddered at the light touch, he made no sign of recognition. "Don't be silly," he claps at the delicate curve of your spine. "I'll guide you. I'm a better shot than half of KorTac, so do not make the mistake of seeking advice in faulty places."

"Now get to sleep, before you subject yourself to sunken eyes," König proceeds, taking just one careful step forward. "Unless you have other...issues I can help you with."

"Other issues?" You raise your eyebrows. Is he—? No, he wouldn't...but you are not an idiot. That look, that tone. He may be a superior, but he is also human. You stand straight, facing him head on. "Any issues, sure?"

"Ja," König nods, perhaps remembering that he is as much a man as you are a woman as he rolls his broad shoulders, chin tilted slightly to the sky. "I am versatile. You know the meaning of that word." It's not a question. You stiffen, far too conscious of yourself, of your body, leaning just a bit forward as König's gaze flicks up and down your face. Were you able to see more than just those crystal blue eyes, you're sure he'd be smirking. A stupid little smirk that only he could pull off and still win with.

"Well," You stammer, averting your gaze. Damn, if you look straight ahead, you only see his pecs. Curse his height. "I—I, uh, I've been having trouble...relaxing lately." It's the corniest, stupidest thing you've said all year. And somehow, it works. “Have you?” König tilts his head, draping hood shifting as he leans down to hover over you. Oh yeah. This is exactly what you thought he was getting after. Thank goodness you haven't embarrassed yourself and made a foolish assumption in addition to your lack of aiming skill.

“Mhm. You planning on sleeping anytime soon, sir?”

“Maybe,” König shrugs. “Are you, spatz?”

“Depends,” you breathe clever words hitching in your chest, “I might be willing to stay up a bit longer.”

***

There’s not an inch of hesitation when König all but crowds you into the first wall he can reach once the door to his room is closed behind himself. Your head knocks into the wall with a thud—nothing painful, but certainly a surprise. König reacts instantaneously, his large gloved hand reaching up to cradle the affected crown of your head. “Aisch,” he hisses. “Did that hurt? I am sorry.”

“No, didn’t hurt,” you pant in reassurance, too fevered and flushed to even process pain as you yank him close by the shirt. He moves with you, fluidly yanking up his hood to allow you access to the sharp line of his jaw and eager, plush lips in wait. Just enough to kiss. His lips crash against yours, and a gentle, satisfied rumble vibrates throughout your exchange. You pant against his lips—damn, could he kiss. For a man that never shows his mouth, König knows very well what to do with it.

He tugs at your shirt, a subtle request for you to pull it off. You do, and it lands somewhere you couldn't care less about. "There she is," König hums appreciatively, his hood falling back into place as you both race to shed clothing, letting the articles fall into pathetic piles by the door. At the very least, you won't have much issue finding your panties in the morning. "You're a pretty thing, spatz. Let me undress you?"

You nod quickly, allowing König's deft fingers to unclasp your bra and toss it aside, his hands—pale, scarred, now ungloved—caressing and squeezing the flesh hidden behind it. "So cute," König chuckles, running a thumb over your nipple. Unable to hold back a squeak, you glance away, eyes finding his bed.

A king size. Fitting. And oh-so comfortable to lay back on when his hands clasp around your waist, lifting you and setting you down on the mattress. Akin to a prowling tiger, König's hands press down over on both sides of your lap as he crawls closer, hovering atop your body.

"It is not prohibited," König murmurs, leaving gentle, nipping kisses at your neck, "for us to share a bed. But for your sake, and mine, let us not speak of this to others."

The request would rub you the wrong way, if you didn't feel equally as concerned about your own reputation. "Ashamed of me, sir?" You joke anyway, if only to soothe the small dash in your pride.

"Shame?" König laughs, familiar sharpness returning to his glinting blue eyes. "Ashamed, she says. Shame does not land you in my bed, spatz. Do not think so little of yourself, or of me."

Right. König is a cocky bastard, as much as he is quiet. You blush, which only serves to draw out a bemused click of the tongue from your paramour. He swipes a curled finger up your cheek, slowly caressing the soft skin there. "Sweet thing, won't you let me taste you?"

And how could you say no to that?

***

Fuck, if you thought he was good at kissing, König proves himself to be an entirely different beast down below. Both of his hands grip your thighs, pushing them up and apart as he goes down on you, his mask pooled just below your navel, and the only visible aspect of his face being those eyes—piercing, captivating eyes that command your gaze. Who know the quiet giant knew how to please a woman so well?

"Hah—nhh! K-König—" You gasp, helplessly squirming in place as his tongue flattens against your clit, passionate and embarrassingly lewd slurping sounds filling the room as he makes love to your cunt. "Fuck, I'm—I—ah!" All you can picture through the sparks behind your eyelids is his tongue, covering the entirety of your slit as he delves deep and suckles on the sensitive bud there. You squeal, legs involuntarily kicking, and he has the audacity to chuckle against your soaked pussy.

Still, König is far too preoccupied with pleasing you and enjoying those pretty sounds of yours to even tease you for your noises. Another slurp—and you finally cry out your orgasm, trembling as sweet nectar gushes out of you, thick on his tongue. König, the pervert, is all too happy to lap up what you have to give him like it's his goddamn dessert. "It seems you liked it," he grunts, as if he hadn't just taken you to kingdom come and back with the sole use of his tongue. "Gut. I am...not of average size. You will need to be wet and relaxed for this part to be comfortable."

He might've given you a mind-blowing orgasm, but you're not the merciful type when a man's annoyed the crap out of you, regardless of his sexual prowess. The joke's all set up for you—you can't help yourself. "Aw, don't worry, sir," you grin, adjusting your body to lay on your side. "You know what they say. The small ones find ways to make up for what they lack in size."

It earns you a smart smack on the rear, eliciting a mortifying gasp of surprise. "The little one likes to provoke. You will regret that," he points, mirth creasing at the corner of his eyes. König, for a man of his formidable size, is swift in his pounce as he climbs up onto the bed to hover over you. "Come here, sweet spatz."

You obey, laying back in earnest as he spreads your thighs once more and tugs your hips up, leaving enough room to slide a pillow under. "Is it comfortable?" König asks, to which you nod eagerly. "Gut."

A finger slips into your throbbing wetness—fuck, he's not average by any means at all—and then another joins it. It's all agonizingly slow, and yet delicious beyond words. Beyond sounds, even—or not, as you shudder involuntarily, noisily, when he sinks in a third to the knuckle. And of course, the man laughs.

"Do you think this is small?" He asks, leaning down, his hood tickling your chest. You weakly shake your head. "Ah, then I am not sure how well you will fare with me inside you. But we shall see, spatz, eh? You are a strong woman."

So he says. But when the flared tip of his condom-sheathed cock nudges at your slit, teasingly gathering the rivulets of slick there, you tense. "Sh-Shit," you whimper. "Go easy on me, sir?" "Easy, no," He mutters. "But I will not hurt you. You may punch me if I do."

"I'd—I'd rather have a word to say."

"Then, say cherry. If that is to your liking?"

You snort softly, gazing up at the man and his mirthful eyes of blue. "You like cherries?"

He nods happily, as if discussing over tea or coffee. "My favorite fruit. It's splendid in cake." König adjusts your hips, fitting them comfortably against his own. "Now, let us fill up this pretty little thing down here..."

Without further warning, his cock nudges past your labia, parting your folds and sliding—more like squeezing—in. You hiss in shock and slight discomfort before it eventually gives way to a sweet, warm ache in your core. "Agh—" König groans, the gruff sound pooling heat in your belly as he hunches over you, massive torso almost completely covering yours. "Are you—ngh—not hurt?"

"No," you breathe, chest rising and falling as he nudges deeper, deeper, until he's certainly at least halfway into you, if not more. God, he's thick, too thick to take easily. If you didn't know better, you'd say he's just under a soda can in girth. "Fuck, I shouldn't have called you—mgh!—small!"

"No, you shouldn't have," König agrees through an aggravatingly husky chuckle. "Consider it a—hgh—punishment, spatz."

"Sh-Shut up."

"Is that any way to talk to a superior?"

You make a noise intended to be a growl, which comes out sounding more like a whine than anything particularly threatening. "I'm talking to the man who calls himself king. I'm not trying to further inflate your giant ego."

König's hands find your waist, oh fuck, he's in, all the way in, and you've never felt fuller in your life. A cry of surprise leaves you just as he bends over to whisper in your ear. "So you know some German." Then, in a high pitched voice to match your cry as he ruts into you once, he mocks, "Ach, König, was hast du für einen große Schwanz!" Another rut, deeper into you, and he deepens his voice to a comical baritone. "Umso besser, dich zu ficken!"

Fuck, that was a stupid joke. You smack his shoulder, cackling and heavily gasping as he gathers speed with his hips. "Fuck you, that was—agh!" König's thrusts pick up in speed, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he pitches his hips up into yours. Like a feral dog, he pants, clawing at the sheets beside your head.

"Mmgh....sweet spatz, you choke me. Oh, Scheiße—" His hips stutter, long strokes ramming into you, one after another as you arch into his touch. "I'm going to come, spatz. So gut, meine Süße—!" König trembles above you, groaning as he finishes off with one hard thrust and stills, filling his condom with seed.

You whine when he finally pulls out, his monster of a cock softening, condom slipping off for him to tie up and trash. You're allowed just a moment's respite before the insatiable man before you thinks it high time to dive back down face-first between your thighs for more.

"König!" You squeak, sitting up to tell him that there's no need for you to come twice, but your protests fall on deaf ears. He's a man too far gone, with too big an appetite to be told "No."

Request Archive

[its-avalon-08]

omg that other anon is right, would you pls consider writing something about lando’s talk with emma?

you asked, i wrote and i hope you enjoy!

BONUS SCENE FOR - show me you love me (ln4)

Lando took a deep breath before knocking on Emma’s door. He knew what he had to do, but that didn’t make it any easier. The events of the past few weeks had opened his eyes, and he couldn’t ignore the impact his friendship with Emma had on Y/N anymore. He had to make things right, and that meant having this difficult conversation.

Emma opened the door, a bright smile on her face. “Lando! What a surprise! Come in, come in.”

He stepped inside, the tension in his shoulders evident. “Hey, Emma. We need to talk.”

Emma’s smile faltered slightly, but she led him to the living room. “Sure, what’s up?”

Lando took a seat, his expression serious. “Emma, this isn’t easy for me to say, but I need to end our friendship.”

Emma’s eyes widened in shock. “What? Why?”

Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s about Y/N. Our closeness has been hurting her more than I realized, and I can’t let that continue.”

Emma rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Oh, come on, Lando. Y/N’s just being dramatic. She needs to grow up.”

Lando’s jaw tightened. “No, Emma, she’s not. I’ve seen how much pain she’s been in because of us, because of me. I’ve been blind to it, but not anymore. I love her, and I can’t keep hurting her.”

Emma scoffed, leaning back on the couch. “So, you’re just going to throw away our friendship because she’s insecure? That’s pathetic.”

Lando’s eyes flashed with anger. “Emma, this isn’t just about her being insecure. You knew how she felt, and you kept pushing the boundaries anyway. You knew what you were doing.”

Emma’s smirk faded, and her eyes narrowed. “Oh, please. Don’t blame this on me. You were just as involved as I was. If you cared so much about her, you wouldn’t have let it get this far.”

Lando shook his head, frustration boiling over. “I take full responsibility for my actions, and I’m ashamed of how I’ve hurt Y/N. But you’ve been fucking manipulative, Emma. You enjoyed seeing her upset.”

Emma’s expression turned cold. “Maybe I did. But that’s not my problem. It’s yours.”

Lando stood up, his fists clenched at his sides. “Well, it is my problem, and I’m fixing it. I can’t be friends with someone who takes pleasure in someone else’s pain. This ends now, Emma. Y/N is my whole world. Knowing that I caused her such pain is just- it's the fucking worst.”

Emma stood up too, glaring at him. “Fine, Lando. If you want to be whipped by your insecure girlfriend, go ahead. But don’t come crawling back when you realize how pathetic you’re being.”

Lando took a deep breath, feeling a surge of determination. "Emma, this isn't just about Y/N's insecurities. It's about respect. You've crossed lines that shouldn't have been crossed, and it's hurt someone I love deeply."

Emma's eyes flashed with irritation. "Oh, come on, Lando. Y/N needs to toughen up. We're just friends. She needs to get over it. She can't act like a goddamn child."

Lando shook his head, his voice firm. "No, Emma. You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew how much it bothered Y/N and you did it anyway. That's not something a real friend would do."

Emma laughed bitterly. "So, you're really choosing her over our friendship? After all these years?"

"Yes, I am," Lando replied, his tone unwavering. "Because I've seen the pain in her eyes. I've seen the tears. I've seen how much she's struggled, and I can't ignore that. She means everything to me, and I won't let anyone come between us."

Emma's expression hardened. "You're making a big mistake, Lando. You’re going to regret this."

Lando stepped closer, his eyes blazing with conviction. "The only mistake I made was not seeing this sooner. Not standing up for Y/N sooner. She deserves someone who puts her first, and that's what I'm going to do. So, this is goodbye, Emma. I hope you can find it in yourself to understand one day, but right now, my priority is Y/N."

Emma's smirk turned into a sneer. "Fine, Lando. Run back to your little girlfriend. But you'll come back."

Lando nodded, his voice calm but resolute. "I won't. Bye Emma."

He turned and walked out of her apartment, closing the door firmly behind him. As he walked down the hallway, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders. It was an end to a long-time friendship, but he knew it was necessary. His love for Y/N was worth any sacrifice, and he was determined to show her that she was his priority.

He knew they had a long road ahead of them, but for the first time in a long while, he felt like they were on the right path. He couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms and reassure her that she was the most important person in his life. And he would spend every day proving it to her, starting now.

[fuck-customers]

never before have i worked under a supervisor who got mad at me for trying to help with other tasks when i otherwise had nothing the fuck else to do. ��‍🍳🌌

i’m doing temp work at a catering kitchen with a few other coworkers and my usual chef while our usual location under the same company is closed for reasons. it’s literally my third fucking day here. today they tagged me in to help with “hand-outs” for a buffet service—basically i just had to stand there and wait for a buffet runner to come back and ask for a salad. the salads were already on their shelf, ready to unwrap and pass out. i am straight up just standing there doing fuck all. my usual chef from the kitchen i’m typically at (i’ll call Chef) is helping oversee the buffet service as the on-duty chef, there’s another guy actually managing it and touching base with the organizers running the event (i’ll call Guy), and then there’s this hot line supervisor (i’ll call Bibi) and the two other temps helping her.

Bibi goes off to do god-knows-what, and again, i’m literally just standing there doing fuck all, so i step over to help Chef and the other temps arrange shit for the hot plates on buffet—garnishing pans, etc. we get their shit dressed, put it back in the hot holding boxes, ready to hand out to the runners. i’m keeping general track of where everything is because…i don’t know, i’m fucking paying attention and make sure i can snap into action at a moment’s notice if called to do so? mostly i’m just transferring pans back and forth for dressing and finding the odd places things have been stowed so it’s not that hard for me to follow when i’m the one being told to put shit back. Chef and Guy walk off to do something, i think to do with the organizers or the buffet attendants, making sure we have all our garnishes to match spec, etc.

Bibi comes back losing her mind because apparently there’s *another* event that got their hot entrees mixed up with ours? so i, trying to be helpful, pipe up to mention which hotbox the just-dressed pans were put into, because like. we don’t fucking want those being taken. and instead of something simple like “i’ve got this handled, thank you” and going back to her shit, she drops everything she’s fucking doing and starts giving me this, like, straight up almost two minute condescending LECTURE. talking to me like i’m fresh out of kindergarten and never stepped foot in a kitchen before instead of a fucking 30-year-old man who’s been in this industry for the better part of a decade, about how *she* can handle *her* hot side and *i* can handle *my* cold side and a bunch of circular bullshit reiterating on that point and by her tone and body language, not so subtly disparaging my intelligence as she did so. straight up i would have felt more highly respected if she just called me a slur to my face.

i’m staring at her like she’s sprouted a second head, but again, it’s my third day here and she has seniority, so i bite my tongue. like, what the fuck? you’ve got a guy here who’s willing to step up and do something other than stand there with one thumb up my ass and the other on my phone to fight the urge to take a nap for the goddamn hour and a half until we even open service. and you’re going to stand there and lecture me for it? like i’m a child?? with your whole chest??? you are 40 years old and acting like this. wow. i appreciate the refusal to adhere to “time to lean, time to clean” mentalities but jesus fucking christ. it’s like she was perfectly genetically engineered to irritate me specifically and decided to speedrun pissing me off.

anyway, Bibi fucks off with the hotbox holding the vast majority of our backups for the beef entree. (we would later run out and have to call her to fucking bring some back because all we had otherwise was chicken and salads.) brief interlude with the return of Guy and him touching base with the temps. we’re standing around on our phones and chatting bc there’s nothing to do; he asks where the other hotbox went, and i actually AM allowed to explain that Bibi came and took it for the other buffet, but we’ve got X number in this other one, because Guy is actually halfway understanding of how operating a fucking kitchen as a team works, i guess. they check and confirm. rinse and repeat with Chef, also a halfway reasonable person to work with. again, they walk off to do whatever.

Bibi returns. she’s looking for a garnish. i start to point it out. this time she just cuts me off to dive into *another* lecture. i’m fed up at this point so i just interject “i’m communicating where i put it because i’m the one who was told to put it away” and this time it turns into an almost three minute lecture about the same bullshit of her handling her shit and me handling mine. i am physically struggling to keep my cool at this point and biting my tongue to keep from getting into an argument with her. i have to step back and put the speed rack with my salads on it between the two of us so i don’t have to fucking look at her.

Bibi walks away as Chef comes back. he’s worked with me a year he knows the Look i get when someone’s crossed a line with me and it’s taking everything in me not to metaphorically spontaneously polymorph into a silverback gorilla. and he comes back over to the buffet arrangement.

Chef: “So, what do you think of Bibi?”

Me, making unblinking eye contact: 🫠 (the longest, slowest, deepest inhale i have ever taken in his presence)

Chef: “Yeah, that’s why she doesn’t work for me anymore.”

turns out he has repeatedly had to get HR involved because of her behavior/attitude, resulting in her getting in the hot seat almost every time they have to work together when she just needs to learn when to stop fucking talking to people like that, and Guy agreed that she’s constantly out of line damn near every fucking time they’ve had to work with her, and they’re one of the location’s powerhouse workers. the fact that she still has a job there at all is so far fucking beyond me.

again, it was my THIRD DAY at this location, my first time working buffet service there, my first time working with her, and i barely got through a full sentence trying to be helpful and expedite things before she decides to take it upon herself to waste her own time by trying to break years of “doing more than your job description instead of simply doing nothing when you have no active tasks” conditioning in the most condescending way i could have possibly conceived of.

i’m so fucking insulted i’m seriously considering telling Chef not to volunteer me for any more temp shifts over there until i’m not at risk of having to work with her, because if she doesn’t learn to talk to me like i’m a fellow fucking human being, i will end up losing my temper, and i will certainly be asked not to come back regardless. i’ll just have less choice in the matter.

i might have to figure something out for seasonal work anyway while things are getting squared back away at my usual site, but i’d rather take my chances with a second job than risk having to deal with this fucking bullshit, and i don’t think i’ve made the best first impression at this other site anyway.

Posted by admin Rodney

[its-time-to-write]

chapter 7

y’all I am SO SORRY this is so late. I’ve been caught up with end-of-year stuff at work and planning for next year. but I’m posting the last two chapters now🙃

I’m not sure how active I’ll be moving forward lol, 2025 is shaping up to be a pretty big year for me, professionally speaking, and that either means I’ll have more free time or less. Idk. But thank you for supporting my writing!!! You guys make me happy🩵🩵🩵

table of contents

found god at your ex’s house

To be entirely honest, the longest and only conversation you’ve ever had with goddamn Keeley Jones was at the Prada show right before you found out about Bean’s existence. 

You’d prefer to keep it that way but fucking Madeline is friends with her so now you’re headed to a stupid, awful, horrible girls’ night at her house and you’d rather fucking die.

Okay, maybe that’s a little dramatic. But your experiences concerning Keeley have been unpleasant at best. 

She first caught your notice in a tabloid on a yacht with Jamie and a screaming headline to match your screaming mind. It was two weeks after Jamie came over for the last time and apparently not enough time to get over him.

You’d gone straight to Madeline’s to scream into a pillow.

Then she was in your instagram, and when you had blocked her she appeared in fan edits and fucking WAG accounts. Then she was at the Prada show and in magazines and on the telly. It felt like no matter how much you tried to shut her out, Keeley fucking Jones remained as a painful reminder.

It wasn’t her fault per se, but you hated the role she played in Jamie’s deterioration. 

And now Madeline is fucking friends with her.

“What the actual hell, Madeline,” you groan. “Keeley fucking Jones? Are you serious? She’s the fucking worst. AND she’s not to be trusted! The girl hardly has two braincells to rub together.”

Madeline rolls her eyes. “I understand that you hate her. But she’s kind and sweet and actually a bit brilliant. I’m not going to tell her about you or Bean, but she’s not some vile, boyfriend-stealing bitch.”

“I’m not saying that,” you reply as you try to get Clare to burp. “I’m just saying that the girl could stand to grow up a little.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. She has. I think you’d like her.”

“Fuck off,” you scoff right as Clare burps. “See? Clare agrees.”

Madeline shrugs. “Clare is three months old. She doesn’t get a vote.”

You wrinkle your nose and say, “You mean unless she agrees with you, right?” and Madeline smiles her most angelic smile. 

“All I’m saying is you’re more than welcome to come with me tonight.”

“I’d rather die,” you inform her.

—

Jamie has the day off. They won against Aston Villa on Sunday so he’s supposed to be resting, but he’s never been very good at that.

So he does what any self-respecting person would do and goes to his ex’s house.

He forgets Roy fucking Kent is going to be there until the man himself has opened the door but Jamie musters up some arrogance and breezes right by him. Keeley knows he’s coming anyway, so he’s not going to be harassed by some grumpy old twat.

Roy must be sick or something because he doesn’t say anything. If Jamie weren’t so consumed with his own worries he might actually be concerned.

But he’s not so he sits on Keeley’s couch like he belongs there and lets her hand him a cup of tea before she sits down next to him.

Roy isn’t far off, pretending to read a book but Jamie is abso-fucking-lutely positive he hasn’t turned a single page yet.

But absolutely FUCK it because he needs Keeley’s professional, girl opinion.

“I’ve got a kid,” he says, and both Keeley and Roy do absolutely horrible jobs at pretending they’re shocked.

“Fuck off, how the fuck did you know?” he protests. “Was it Ted?”

Roy and Keeley exchange a Look and it just makes Jamie madder.

“Technically it was Coach Beard,” Keeley says in a mousy voice. “We figured you’d tell us when you were ready, Jamie.”

That’s just confusing. “How the fuck did Beard know?” he asks.

“Kid looks just fucking like you,” Roy says and that makes Jamie mad too because when the fuck did Roy see Clare?

“I saw them on the green when I was with Phoebe,” Roy clarifies and Jamie takes a minute to file that away as Roy Kent’s first-ever non-swearing sentence.

He says, “fucking hell,” because really, fucking hell. He went from not knowing he had a baby to knowing to apparently the whole Richmond coaching staff knowing (and apparently meeting) her.

Keeley asks, “Is that why you’re here, babes?” and her gentle voice actually makes him want to fucking cry so he just nods and puts his head in his hands.

“Don’t know shit about being a dad,” he says, voice muffled, and Roy slams his book shut because apparently he has shit to say.

“Fuck off, Tartt,” he says. “Stop being a little bitch.”

Keeley exclaims, “Roy!” but she’s also curious about what he has to say because she doesn’t do anything else to stop him.

“I fucking mean it,” he continues. “You fucking come here expecting to fucking cry on the couch and be told you’re fucking shit at something and throw a fucking pity party, so fuck off. You might be a shit father, you don’t fucking know, but that girl doesn’t fucking think so and if I were her, I’d hate your fucking guts. So untwist your fucking pants and stop being a fucking whiny little bitch. Go fucking be a dad and if you’re shit, you’re shit. But stop looking for fucking sympathy for something you’ve made up in your stupid fucking twat brain.”

With that he pushes himself out of his chair, swears at his knee, and disappears into the kitchen, presumably to remain silent for the next year since he’s met his word quota.

Jamie looks at Keeley as if to say, Are you hearing this prick? but Keeley just lifts a shoulder and says, “He’s right, babe. You’ve got to actually go do something about it.”

So Jamie pinches the bridge of his nose and recounts everything his mum told him over the phone for some extra review.

—

Clare is easy, as far as babies go, but for some reason tonight she’s decided to be an absolute terror. She won’t eat, won’t go to sleep, won’t calm down. She just cries and cries and no matter how many times you check her temperature or her diaper, she cannot get it back together.

It doesn’t help that you’re tired, either. Like, newborn-level tired. And hungry, too. You’d order in but Clare hasn’t even allowed that so you open the fridge as best you can while bouncing Clare up and down. All you can see is a jar of gherkins, a can of soda, and some lemons. 

And a fucking banana which must be Madeline’s because you’d rather die of starvation than eat that shit.

Fucking hell.

I am not going to cry you tell yourself sternly, except that doesn’t do anything except allow tears to well up faster than if you’d just let it alone.

You can’t call Madeline because she’s at Keeley’s and you’ll be damned if you interrupt her girls’ night. Madeline didn’t sign up to be tied down and she deserves a non-parent friend, so she’s not an option.

For a split second, you debate calling Jamie. But that’s a level of desperation you haven’t quite reached. You close the fridge and are saved from deciding what to do next by a knock on the door.

Clare wails like she’s being murdered, so you hope it isn’t the police but it isn’t, it’s just Jamie with a bag of groceries. He’s in the house setting up in the kitchen before your brain catches up with your eyes and Clare just cries the whole time. 

You know exactly what he’s making before he’s even pulled out half the ingredients. It’s chicken pesto risotto, the dish you always begged him to make whenever he had a moment of free time. Jamie can cook maybe four things in total, but damn he can cook them well. He slices some bread, puts it on a plate with some butter and hands it to you, swapping the plate for Clare so easily that if you didn’t know better you’d think he’s been doing it his whole life. She stops crying the moment she’s in his arms and honestly, you’re too tired to worry about it. You crash on the couch and fall asleep after two bites.

It’s dark out when you wake up, but the lights are on in the house and it’s warm. Someone’s gently caressing the top of your head and saying your name, so you open your eyes to Jamie standing over you.

He’s looking at you with a soft expression, and your heart aches. It all feels too painfully normal.

He says, “Food’s ready,” and holds out a hand for you to grab.

You hesitate for the barest fraction of a moment before taking it. “Little Bean’s asleep in her bed,” he continues. “You hungry? Figured we could eat then you can go back to sleep.”

You nod. “Smells good, J. Are you planning on spending the night, then?”

Jamie shrugs. “I thought- I don’t know, I thought maybe you could use a break.”

He sits next to you at the table. The food’s been set out, and it’s still warm. It’s also the first meal you haven’t been responsible for in a good long while.

“So you’re just here now,” you say. “You’re the kind of person who shows up, cooks dinner, puts the baby to bed and watches telly in the evenings? You could barely handle a relationship, and now you want a fucking family? You can leave me all you want, but I swear to God, Jamie, I will murder you if you hurt Clare.”

It’s frustrating because it feels like you’re at an impasse. Jamie can come back once he’s shown he’s changed, but he can’t really show he’s changed if he can’t fucking come back, can he?

It doesn’t matter that he probably has changed and you know deep down that even he isn’t a big enough dick to abandon his daughter.

Jamie says, “I am. I mean, I won’t. I mean, fucking hell, you don’t have to fucking murder me, yeah? Just give me a chance, like.”

You snort. “Do you even know how to change a diaper?”

Jamie says, “Googled it, didn’t I?” and that makes you genuinely laugh. Of course he did. But you laugh too loud and it wakes up Clare, who lets you know she’s irritated with a shriek. You knock your head lightly against the table and whisper, “Fuck,” before putting down your fork. You push your chair out and Jamie stands, lightning-fast.

“I got it,” he tells you, and you raise an eyebrow.

You reply, “Okay,” because if he’s going to act like a father, he’s going to have to put in the work. And you’re hungry and this is your favorite meal. Besides, what’s the worst that’s going to happen?

So Jamie goes to Clare’s room where she’s sobbing like there’s no tomorrow and you continue to eat while straining your ears to make sure Jamie isn’t panicking.

Unfortunately, you didn’t account for the fact that the worst thing that could happen is Jamie comes back out after ten minutes with a sleeping Clare on his chest and he looks so fucking hot that you want to jump his bones then and there. 

Jamie is thankfully oblivious. He sits back down and pats Clare on the back so she doesn’t wake up again.

“How’s the food?” he whispers. “Haven’t cooked in fuckin’ ages.”

“Good,” you whisper back and then you lapse into silence. 

 “I can stay the night, if you want,” Jamie offers after a bit, and you glare.

“Not like that,” he hastily amends, “I mean if you want to sleep. I can feed Clare and whatever.”

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Jamie. What the fuck do you want from me? You can’t fucking come back here and play house when you want, and I get it, your dad’s a piece of shit and you don’t want to be like him. But you’re in the fucking Prem, Jamie.”

(“Got relegated,”) he mouths, but you just keep talking. “Fine. You’re in the Championship but everyone knows you at least are making it back to the Premier League and someday you’ll be with a team in the Champion’s League and that’s a lot of travel. It’s a lot of nights alone, and you’re not exactly the kind of person who likes sleeping alone.

Jamie looks offended at that, but it’s true. He’s twenty-six and in his prime.

This whole thing is just one giant circle with no solution. 

“Oi,” he says, and he’s got his serious expression on. “I don’t want anything from you. I want you. Not even because of Clare, but she’s mint. I was coming to find you the other night because I wanted to fix things. I told you that. I meant it, I want to get back together. I know I’m hard to love sometimes but swear down, I want to make it work. Keeley’s on me about commitment and shit and I dunno, it sounds nice. I’m fucking tired of fucking around. That shit’s exhausting.”

“Yeah, because a baby and a girlfriend isn’t fucking exhausting as well.”

Jamie wrinkles his nose. “Fucking Garnacho’s having a kid. If that little shit can handle it, I can too.”

You concede. He has a point. “Fine. You can spend the night. I’m going to shower and then pass out, which means you’ve got the dishes and Clare. You can sleep in the guest room, yeah? I’ll set up the baby monitor.”

Jamie smiles, and before you can really think it through, you lean over to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you,” you say softly before heading upstairs. You’re going to get an earful from Madeline later, but for now you’re going to get good sleep for the first night in a long while.

next chapter

[lysaisland]

until my knots unravel

His eyes widened at the sight of the door slamming in his face, the mahogany of the door mocked him. The lock delicately clicked into place.

“You’re a fucking ass!”

Dabi felt the words escape from his mouth. He didn’t mean that, truly. If anything, he was the ass for being so ignorant.

He wished the world would just stand still. It couldn’t keep spinning like this, not when you were in so much pain. Not when he caused that pain. Not when he feels so much that he thinks he could explode into stardust.

However, the world didn’t heed a single wish of his and, instead, became blurry.

Typical.

“Why the fuck did you do that!”

Dabi banged his fist against the door.

The mission had not even ended an hour ago and he was kicking up a fuss. Despite the mission going according to plan (for once in his goddamn life), he came back to the hideout with about three broken ribs, a smashed shoulder and with some internal bleeding to go with that, no doubt. Everyone else was in no better shape.

“Tell me!”

You, as per usual, healed them all until they were as good as new. Dabi never really knew how your quirk worked (he never really bothered to learn), because you always went to hide away in your ‘infirmary’ room. If it could be called that. It was just a dark room with a few beds, and a stain on the floor that would never disappear, no matter how hard you would wipe.

Blood started to trickle from his hand. The cold air, the red, the yelling: it was too much. He was being too much.

Dabi wondered if you would heal this too.

“Come out here and talk to me!”

You healed him last out of all the league. He remembered your eyes when you healed him. They were tired. Exhausted, with a hint of something else.

He only found out about your quirk when you rested your hand against his and healed him. From what he’s pieced together, you absorb the injury and then heal yourself. He was sure of it. However, the sinking feeling in his stomach told him there was a lot more than that. You never got any visible injuries after healing.

“Please.”

Why did he care so much?

Of course he should care about you, you were the only healer in the team. Absolutely essential for this type of work. Perfect for villains like him.

You never got too attached either. Another thing Dabi respected about you. Always cold to the others in the league and even indifferent to the blood-sucking leech Toga. Even her insufferable bubbling didn’t make much of an impression on you.

Dabi, on the other hand, was very much attached to you.

When he thought about it, he had fun talking to you. You just made sense. Sometimes, that was just all he needed.

And when he really thought about it, he would swear that you enjoyed him too. Too many times Dabi caught a glimpse of a smile on your lips.

“Come out.” He whispered, voice now hoarse,”I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

He had no right whatsoever to be outside your door. He had no right either to be shouting at you. This was your life, your quirk. You didn’t need to explain a single thing to him.

You were fuming. The sheer entitlement this man felt.

“No.” You mumbled, from the other side of the door.

“Go away.”

Your back was against the door, head in your arms. “I’ll talk to you when I want to.”

[laurrelise]

i’m rewatching tua season 4 because i guess i once again need confirmation that it’s just as bad as i remember …

but ive been told im too negative about the season on more than one occasion so im going to be positive and name a bunch of things i like about each episode of the final season!! <3

warning: this post is decent sized lol

today we are tackling: episode 2

i do love the beginning montage of the siblings all being sick while simultaneously using their powers to improve their own daily agendas if only it featured more than just 3 of the siblings…?

i love five’s assistant twink and also how he’s called mr. five at the grand old age of 19 years old (i know he’s 64 but shut up)

lila’s eyeball lasers and the rubber ducky

luther being devastated over the place being “destroyed” even when it was a literal shithole to start off with

viktor finding his VOICE. viktor with CONFIDENCE. i love you viktor “ill kick your ass right now” hargreeves. king, you are 4 feet tall, but eat him tf up

“why is it cold” “the real question is, why would you touch it”

five slapping diego’s hand out of the way and him not even trying to fight it is so them and i love it

viktor actually attempting to kick ben’s ass (and as much as he looks like a feral little gremlin, i love it)

luther’s “DUDE! I LIVE HERE” he’s such a grumpus

also viktor’s little speech about him building a life for himself and it all being fucked over because of ben’s dumb ass

“i could’ve lost my job!” “did you?” “wh-” and five looking up at him with wide eyes and genuine curiosity. not the time king but thanks for asking

allison eating ben tf up and klaus supporting her

“i’m not going back to that old klaus. i like this klaus! hey, he collects coupons! he’s frugal, respectable, reliable, and most importantly, he’s a klaus that claire likes. and trusts and looks up to.” THIS IS SO SAD I LOVE HIM

diego pulling ben back to the couch by his hair is such brother behavior

i do love the wanda van. she’s truly iconic

will forever love that five gets the front seat because he’s the old man. if i were his sibling i wouldn’t even try to take it. shotgun is for the senior citizen

the gag about baby shark not being able to stop playing for the entire several-hour long road trip is pretty alright comedy-wise i guess although it would’ve been much funnier if baby shark wasn’t the main goddamn song in the entire season’s soundtrack

i will never shut up about how much i love the love-hate banter from all of the siblings. the actors did such an amazing job bringing the dysfunctional family back to life.

ben getting humbled in the diner was pretty satisfying. sparrow ben i’ve never been your biggest fan but you’ve grown on me

luther’s mention of sloane is so sweet if only she’d been mentioned more than twice

luther is generally adorable i love that man

viktor saying “phones work both ways, yknow” when allison said he didn’t call. i love how much confidence he’s found in himself this season, quite possibly one of the only characters who wasn’t horribly assassinated trait-wise

diego throwing the axes, i love him. also lila’s unimpressed reaction always gets me

klaus with the TAROT CARDS!!!!!! yes please i wish he’d used them more

i do actually like jennifer’s character. the truman-show town thing was so interesting even if it had relatively no effect on the plot for the rest of the season, it had potential but i love that jen matches ben’s freak in the sense that she is absolutely not afraid to call him out on his bullshit

old man five trying to blink :( so sad poor guy

also five immediately pretending to stretch when lila calls him out

once again i love lila and five’s reluctant alliance. why couldn’t they just continue being frenemies for the love of god

five noticing the singular guy looking at them and mentioning it to diego and lila and she says “maybe he likes you” STEVE BLACKMAN YOU COULD’VE PUT FIVE WITH ANYONE ELSE. STEVE BLACKMAN WE COULD’VE HAD A ROMANCE BETWEEN FIVE AND THE ELF STARING AT HIM AND IT WOULD’VE BEEN BETTER THAN FIVE X LILA. STEVE BLACKMAN WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME

ben defending jennifer awwwww

five’s subway station to different timelines will go down as being endlessly awesome if only it hadn’t been created solely so steve blackman could fulfill his own weird ass ideas

diego and lila once again trying to convince the other to let them save the day is a very often-overlooked sign of love that i refuse to ignore. they do it like 3 times in the show and it gets me every time

“i have laser eyes im more powerful than you!” “they’re not even working right now!” “they’re gonna work i feel it they’re gonna work!!!!” lila i love you you’re so cute

“I TOOK OUT THE TRASH” hey btw diego it’s not the time

ok but diego’s flip where he redirects all the bullets… idk how i completely forgot about that part (probably because i was busy thinking about all of the other things that i hated) but it was SO fucking awesome stfu

diego and lila collecting reindeer stuffies for the kids even while they’re fighting for their lives is still so adorable

klaus’ positive affirmations. klaus I LOVE YOU

klaus accidentally finding a fake jennifer is so on brand for him NVM HOW DID I FORGET THAT SHE LITERALLY SHOOTS KLAUS

i LOVE the part where luther’s shielding allison and viktor from the bullets. especially when viktor tears out of his grasp like a feral little gremlin and takes out half of the shooters

still don’t know what the hell allison’s power is???? is it the rumor thing except she only has to think it instead of saying it?!!? idk but it’s cool i guess just wish it was explained more!!!!!!

luther’s “i should’ve known, those sconces were too perfect” he’s all upset but i can’t help but smile he’s literally a 5 year old

the car flip is so fucking cool. the glass flying around the van around everybody is so good, the “carol of the bells” is so menacing and simple, five absolutely serving while everyone else is screaming and flinging around in the back

ALSO DIEGO’S ARM GOING OUT TO PROTECT FIVE. fuck i love them so much. STEVE BLACKMAN FUCK YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID TO FIVE AND DIEGO

jennifer’s little “help me, ben” as she gets carried away is so tragic oh my god. and his little reach out to her as she’s taken. fuck

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, jean and gene are such phenomenal villains. nick offerman and megan mulally are phenomenal actors. christ on a cracker why couldn’t they have been utilized in a plot that was actually written well

and that’s the end of the episode! only positivity around here folks! :)

…

just kidding here’s some of the tiny little things i caught that i don’t like / that make literally zero sense

luther screaming “no! no! no” when his monkey body is back (for some fucking reason???) is so heartbreaking the poor guy hated himself 💔

i love the whole subway station thing but how the hell did five accidentally blink into the station when he was just running but couldn’t when he was genuinely trying lmfao

it’s absolutely wild that five deadass blinked accidentally and then just hopped on the subway even though he was just running for his life. if the writers genuinely believed five wouldn’t have immediately returned to help his family and checked out the subway later then they need to be fired immediately. thanks

it will never not be funny to me that literally every single person in the town has a huge gun. was that much security really necessary 😭

the part where klaus dies and they give him marigold even though he stressed 100% that he didn’t want it makes me so sad. i get why they did it (he literally would’ve died if they hadn’t) but the panic in allison’s voice as she holds her dying brother and tries to figure out if it’s right to give it to him against his will is so heartbreaking

KLAUS’ “what did you do?” WHEN HE REALIZES HE’S GOT HIS POWERS BACK IM SOBBING

ok and that’s the end

the first couple of episodes weren’t too terrible in my opinion? so it’s understandable that i’d find plenty more things i liked than i disliked in this episode. also all the things i pointed out that i liked were tiny little details when most of the season’s flaws imo were huge arcs / plot points that span multiple episodes so they might not be as relevant in a post of this format !!

might do this when i watch the rest of the seasons to truly identify if i really am too hard on this season (i don’t believe i am considering how many much smarter people have also stressed the issues with this season but it was fun so i might do it anyways)

anyways thanks for reading goodbye

[eolewyn1010]

Downton Abbey Fashion 89 - wedding gowns in 1925

We have three brides this season (well, Isobel marries Lord Merton at some point, but that happens offscreen, so, no dress to talk about): Mrs Hughes, Mary, and Edith, respectively warranting the comments nice and appropriate, underwhelming, and so pretty!

Mrs Hughes in Cora’s velvet coat. Making this a whole story arc was kind of not warranted when, y’know, we’ve never actually seen Cora wear this coat, so I don’t get the feeling that she would miss it. But alright. It harmonizes well with the lavender dress, although I would’ve liked it if the belt had a little trim or something that would make it pop more. As it is, the buckle looks a little random in the middle of nowhere. But let’s focus on the glorious applications instead! Purple flowers on a lot of white wavy leaves, and it’s paired with that charming lace-brimmed hat. I also cannot help my love for smooth, well-done box pleats.

I’m glad they took off the huge fur and the clunky hem trim before Mrs Hughes wore this. Honestly, I’m not sure why the fur was a part of this in the first place; usually, they wear separate fur stolas on top of their coats. Cora, what on earth were you keeping in your dust corner there? I’m wondering a little why Mrs Hughes, who’s presumably a virgin well into her 50s, won’t marry in white (whereas Mary, who is very officially not a virgin anymore, with a child in wedlock and all, does wear white, or at least champagne, even for the second go), but that’s more of an idle notion than a concern because this ensemble looks very nice on her and fits the down-to-earth vibe of her wedding. Although I find it ironic that, after all her insistence on the wedding being hers and not one of House Crawley, she does marry in the Crawleys’ signature dusty purple.

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

Mary’s second wedding look is. Well, it is a second wedding, and a very quick one at that, but I’m still underwhelmed. Mary, you could at least repeat the flowers on the hat; there’s not much on it except a bit of ruffled tulle! I do like her hair for a change, at least in the front because she still refuses to even out that fur patch in the nape of her neck. But why is this so unspectacular? This is not a charity tea; this is her wedding! And she has prided herself from the start of the series as a fashion queen, and dares to show up in this bland outfit.

If I have to suffer, so do you: Frock Flicks pointed out that this dress has a giant V pointing at Mary’s vagina, and now I can’t unsee it. I suspect the deep cut down the front was supposed to bring in some drama, but the zigzag lace band is not not showy enough for that. I’ll say this: Overall, I think the lower part of the outfit is better than the boring upper half; it has a sweet knife-pleated skirt and kick pleats in the back of the coat. Still. Mary, for this coat to work, you should have filled out the front V at least with a shiny damask pattern.

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

And Edith, mah gurl, gets her happy ending! And looks pretty damn glorious in the process. Fun fact, she wears not one, but two lovely tiaras for the occasion, the little curlicue number for her veiled look to church, and later for the party a more streamlined one with lots of pearls, including a fashionable tassel design at the side of her head that is, yep, more pearls. Which, instead of crushing the impression of the lace under it or being crushed by it, perfectly harmonizes with it. Thank Edith’s taste that the necklace is a very simple deal and she lets her tiaras be the only noteworthy jewelry.

The dress itself is a fairly simple deal in terms of shape, 1920s-typical length, sleeves a little more fitted than I would expect (and also pretty short for a winter wedding; Edith is the only woman in that church who’s not wearing fur), and then there is this lovely neckline. Who ever came up with that particular lace was a goddamn genius. It’s not only the neckline; some of the glory also goes to the skirt hem, layers of lightweight, translucent scallops. It doesn’t try to be all glam’n’glitz, and there have been more spectacular looks on the show, but this fits her character so well and she makes a lovely bride.

To be honest, I would make less of a fuss about this if it were only the outfit she wore to her party, the basic dress. But what she wears to church has, one, a very long lace cape down from the shoulders that I’m in love with, and two, a glorious cathedral veil. The cape and the veil are not easy to tell apart; they kind of fuse into each other, and imho they lift this outfit from quite pretty to stunning. The dress is fairly simple in and of itself, but the composition of the entire look? Gorgeous.

[footprintsinthesxnd]

The Angel of Easy

Mads!! I was so excited when Réka messaged me to be your Secret Santa pinch hitter. So here is a special little Nixon fic for my favourite fellow Lewis fangirl.

Being one of the few female intelligence officers in the 101st was always going to be a slightly different experience. Despite her training as an SOE and working at Bletchley Circle nothing prepared her to be thrown into a company of men who drank, swore and fought like dogs but formed a group far stronger than any family could ever be. One of the men she warmed most to was Lewis Nixon. His endless sarcasm and witty humour had cemented him in Y/n’s heart and it didn’t take long for them to become firm friends and then something more.

“Do you have to go on that patrol? Can’t you just stay here with me?” Lewis whined, his head still buried under the bed covers as his near-naked frame lay sprawled across the bed.

Y/n laughed, lacing up her lump boots as the grown man rolled over to face her, his blurry eyes and sleepy smile tugging on her heartstrings and if she looked at him any longer she would climb right back into bed with him.

“You know I have to go. This is finally my chance to truly prove myself,” she retorted, this would be her first time on a patrol without Lewis and she intended to gain the respect of her fellow paratroopers.

“You’ve already proven yourself to me in many ways,” Lewis wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Y/n sighed, hitting him with the nearest pillow.

“I have to go, I’ll see you later. I love you,” Y/n called as the door slammed shut behind her.

“Love you too,” Lewis mumbled into the pillow, his mind drifting back into his sleepy state when he sat upright. Had she just said what he thought she had? And had he replied with the same answer?

“You know Lieutenant, you’re not that bad after all,” Johnny Martin, nodded at her and she smiled in return. Johnny was a hard man to win over so this was the biggest compliment he could have given.

“Yeah, you’re alright Little Lady,” Bull chimed in, patting her on the back with his large hand.

“Well thanks, guys, I knew you’d like me eventually.”

The group continued to laugh as they followed the path back towards their camp when a loud crack from beside them caused them all to hit the deck. “FLASH?” Johnny shouted, his weapon raised. “Flash? Or we fire.” Was followed by a burst of machine gun fire. The firing above Y/n head caused her to freeze, she’d been through basic training just like the rest of them, she’d fired her weapon and she carried her M1 with her now, but something inside her would allow her to move. Her limbs lay frozen against the wet, muddy soil, her head pressed to the ground.

“Y/L/N GET UP!” Johnny grabbed her collar and shoved her against the nearest tree. “Y/l/n, you used that goddamn gun of yours. I don’t care if you are a Lieutenant or a fucking Major. I’m not losing any of my men because of you.” Johnny's voice was harsh, his usual snarl mixed with a desperation for her to follow his instructions.

Y/n nodded quickly, raising her M1 and firing around the edge of the tree. Johnny seemed satisfied with this and continued his way along the line to check in with the rest of his men. Y/n continued to fire, round after round, clip after clip, with only the image of Lewis in her mind to keep her grounded.

“I’m out of ammo,” she called down the line but the others were too preoccupied to hear her above the firing. Y/n did something she never thought she would do, she got up and ran. Time stood still as her legs carried her from behind the cover of her tree to the next tree, bullets whizzing past her.

“You alright Luz?” She asked, sliding down next to George who was trying to call through to Winters on his radio. George nodded to her and she grabbed his ammunition, loaded her weapon and started firing again.

The noise was deafening, nothing like practising on the ranges back at Toccoa.

“Y/L/N!” Johnny called, waving at her from the next tree down. “There’s a whole goddamn Panzer division coming from the south. We’ve gotta get outta here.”

Y/n nodded, motioning for him and the other men to head for cover further back from the line as she continued to fire. Johnny and Bull appeared by her side soon after.

“The others have retreated. I think we’ve hit their line. What’s your orders, Lieutenant? Johnny, Bull and George looked at her expectantly and Y/n felt the weight of the world on her shoulders.

“We hold them off for as long as we can, at least we can give the others a chance to pull back.” The men nodded at her, seemingly approving of her reply.

George continued to keep Winters and the battalion in the loop while the others continued to fire upon the inbound Panzer division. Mortar fire from Malarkey’s mortar squad littered the tree line in front of them and sporadic machine gun fire came in response.

“Winters says to pull back. The air force is bringing in air cover,” George shouted over the firing.

“Cease fire,” Y/n called, motioning for Johnny to head back first while supplying covering fire, then Bull and then George.

“What about you Lieutenant?” George asked, hiking his radio onto his back.

“I’ll be right behind you George, okay?” George nodded, keeping his head down and sprinting towards the cover of the tree line.

Now that she was alone Y/n wondered how she was meant to get herself out of this situation and without covering fire she was a sitting duck. They would have had her firing zeroed by now and mortars would surely start firing soon.

“Well, it’s not or never,” Y/n threw herself out from behind the tree, firing towards the German line as she retreated. Once the clip was empty she slung the weapon onto her back and turned tail, running towards George who was waving frantically at her.

“Y/N COME ON!” He screamed, grabbing her hand as she collapsed into him. “Christ Lieutenant, you’ve got a death wish,” he laughed, helping her up. Johnny nodded at her and Bull gave her his signature smile until their faces fell.

“Hey, what’s all the long faces for?” She laughed, “We just got out of there alive didn’t we?”

“Umm Y/n you might wanna sit down,” George caught her as her knees buckled beneath her. Johnny and Bull quickly moved in to help. Johnny pulled his aid kit out of his pocket, pressing a bandage firmly to the pool of blood at her side, before helping to lift her into Bull’s arms.

“Stay with us Little Lady,” Bull whispered as her heavy eyelids slid closed.

“You know what they say, Dick,” Lewis sighed, rubbing his hand over his stubbly chin.

“What do they say, Lew?” Dick stretched his arms above his head, as he sat in the armchair beside him.

“Well sometimes, no matter how much you want it, some stories just don’t get a happy ending,” Lewis choked, the tears freely rolling down his cheeks again. He had cried so much in the last twenty-four hours that he wasn’t sure how he had any tears left to cry.

“She’ll pull through, Nix. She’s strong and she knows you are waiting for her. She’ll make it.” Dick patted Lewis on the back, raising from his chair and leaving Lewis to sit in his uncomfortable silence once more.

“Lewis?” Her voice was weak, her breaths shallow but her bright eyes watched him intently as he raised his weary head.

“Y/n? By God you’re awake. Oh thank God,” Lewis flung his arms around her neck, burying his head into her neck and crushing the air from her lungs. “Careful Lew, I’m a little sore,” Y/n whined, pushing Lewis gently to which he jumped away.

“I’m so sorry, Sweetheart. Are you alright?” Lewis sat back down in the armchair, his hand clutching desperately at hers.

“I’m a little sore,” she admitted, wincing as she tried to move.

Lewis jumped up again, “do you need me to get, Roe? Do you need some morphine?” Lewis' eyes were wild, searching her face for the unspoken answer.

“No. No, I'm alright. Just sore,” Y/n reassured him, reaching for his hand which Lewis took instantly.

“I was so worried I’d lost you,” Lewis admitted, his eyes full of tears but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her, too afraid that he’d blink and she’d be gone.

“I’m sorry I worried you, Lew. It was all going so well. I think I proved myself to them.”

Lewis chuckled, leaning forward to brush the hair that had fallen upon her face, “You, my love certainly did prove yourself. You are all the men of Easy can talk about. Hell, you’re the ‘Angel of Easy Company.”

Y/n laughed, “Well that’s something I suppose.”

“Just next time, maybe don’t get yourself killed over it alright? I don’t think I could go through that again,” Lewis looked at her poignantly and Y/n just smiled. Her fingers reached up, brushing her fingers over Lew’s cheek, cupping it gently.

“I promise, Lew. I won’t do it again but if I do at least I know I have you to come back to.”

Dick smiled from his spot in the doorway, he’d had a message from Colonel Sink but he couldn’t bear to interrupt this precious moment. Just for those few minutes, his friends were happy and that was all Dick could ask for.

Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines @whollyjoly @bucky32557038ww2 @panzershrike-pretz @malarkgirlypop @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt @supervalcsi

[skydrain]

Sick Day

I had a dream the other night and realized I have been so terribly inactive on Tumblr and figured I could just put this out there. Completely take a turn in my account. So, I do realize this is so incredible niche. Do I care? No. Do I hope people like it? Obviously. Anyway, I hope this finds people who at least respect the vision lmao.

Summary: Y/N Swift-Styles (adoptive if you would please, bc shes like 16) spends the day in the Reynolds' house because Harry is across the world and Taylor has places to be and people to see (not in a bad way, she's a very good mom).

Disclaimers: nothing really, sicky stuff like sneezing and a puke bucket, no actual throwing up though. Other than that it's just cute family stuff and maybe a smidge of going crazy in emotional haze. Also, I totally made stuff up and did very little research. I am by no means pretending I know anything about these peoples lives.

Pay no mind to any spelling mistakes, sorry <3

Feel free to leave any constructive criticism, love that stuff truly

Sick Day

Y/N woke up with a very very stuffy nose. Not out of the norm if she’s completely honest, especially this time of year. Goddamn seasonal allergies amiright? However, the headache and full body chills is what allerted her that she could most certainly not go with her mom to the studio today and hang out doing online school like planned. 

Y/N walked into the living room where Taylor was collecting her sheet music and trying to put her many many sets of lyrics into order. 

“Moooommmm, *sniffle* I don’t feel good,” Y/N said as she plucked a tissue from the end table. 

Taylor whipped her head around when she heard her daughter's groggy voice. Quickly standing from the couch, she hurried towards her daughter and held her shoulder as she blew her nose. 

“Oh you poor thing, let me check your temperature,” rushing off to the bathroom, Taylor quickly returned with a thermometer and had Y/N put it under her tongue. Guiding her daughter to the couch, she grabbed the thermometer back and saw 100*f showing back. Grabbing Y/N’s shoulder and tugging her under her arm into a hug, Taylor began to think through her options. 

“Oh sweetheart, I feel terrible leaving you here alone like this, do you feel comfortable being alone, or I could maybe call Blake and see if you could go over to theirs?” Taylor made sure Y/N’s eyes were actually focussed on her as she asked. 

“No, I don’t want the kiddos to get sick *sniffle*,” was her response as she shoved her face into her mom’s side.

Little did she know Taylor was already ringing Blake to make sure her baby wasn’t left alone while she went to the studio. 

“Hey, hey, hey! What’s up?” Blake exclaimed as she answered the phone. Taylor was disappointed to hear that she was obviously calling from a car.

“Y/N is sick but I need to go to the studio and Travis is obviously not here, and Harry is pointless to contact because he’s even more so not here. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind taking her for a bit just so I know she's eating and not going to pass out, but I can hear your driving– “ Taylor was cut off by Blake. 

“Oh my poor fifth child. I wish I could, but me and the kiddos are on our way to my sister's house at the moment. BUT! Ryan is home right now and I’m sure he’d be more than happy to take her. He’s just doing some last minute line stuff and making sure he’s got his shit together before his meeting with the Marvel people Thursday. Hanging out with Y/N won’t bother him at all.”

“Oh, no no. That’s not necessary. I wouldn't want to bother him with this, I got it handled– “ again Taylor was cut off. 

“Hang on girl, we’re your village right now. A village that's happy to help I assure you. I'll call Ryan and have him call you. Don’t you sweat,” Blake hung up before Taylor got the chance to argue again.

All Taylor could do was sit and wait for Ryan to call and hopefully convince him it wasn’t necessary and she could have her personal assistant stay with Y/N for a few hours then cut her studio day short. 

Taylor glanced down at Y/N, it seems she had fallen back to sleep against her mothers side. That was okay, as long as she was comfortable Taylor was happy. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone ringing with Ryan’s contact popping up on the screen. She quickly answered and was prepared to start her speech but Ryan had begun before she could. She swore, the more she talked to him, the more it seemed like Deadpool was him and he was Deadpool.

“Hello Ms. Swift-Kelce, you've reached Ryans Daycare services, at what time will you be dropping off my fifth-favorite child (not that any of the other four are in any particular order mind you)?” He cheerfully greeted. 

“Ryan, seriously, as I told Blake, I don't want to disrupt you guys. She said you were busy, I don’t want to step on your toes,” Taylor responded exasperatedly, not taking the effort to comment on the Kelce name. She did however think to herself that she was happy she only had cats in addition to her one human child. 

“Um, no, sorry. The words ‘disrupt’ and ‘busy’ are not in my vernacular when pertaining to family and friends. Seriously, drop her off when you need to. I’ll get her set up in front of the tv with a bucket and pack of tissues and we can watch my entire filmography and it’ll make her good as new,” Ryan responded. Taylor swore she could feel his eye roll.

Heaving a sigh in response, Taylor finally conceded, “Okay, we’ll be by in a little over half an hour, I’ll have my driver take us by yours on the way to the studio. Thank you Ryan, I’ll make it up to you.”

“No thanks necessary, I will however accept a voucher that I can redeem on the day one of my kiddos graduates for a One Direction reunion at her grad party as payment,” he said cheekily, “see you in a half hour,” and hung up.

Once again heaving a sigh, Taylor resumed packing her papers into her bag while trying to keep Y/N asleep. Once ready, she began gently rubbing Y/N’s back to rouse her awake.

“C’mon hun, Ryans gonna take you for the day, okay?” Taylor put on her own shoes after handing Y/N’s to her. 

“Ooo! Okay *sniffle*, let me grab my phone and blow my nose one more time,” Y/N said as she headed back to her room. 

Once she came back, this time with her shoes on and phone in hand, the two made their way down to the lobby and were assisted into the back of Taylor's car.

Getting to the Reynolds house was quick work, though Y/N assumed that was mainly due to her hazy bouts of consciousness. God, she couldn’t wait to sink into their nice plush couch. 

There was something amazing about being taken care of like family by people who have no real obligation to you. Taylor and Harry were amazing parents. And Travis is iconic for sure. And Y/N was so so sure Kylie and Jason and their girls were gonna be phenomenal, but there was something so incredible about the Reynolds that has had her completely besotted since she met them. 

Maybe it was Ryans crack-head energy, or Blakes ever coolness, but they were definitely great people that Y/N was so happy her mom had in their lives. 

Speaking of, they were quietly pulling into their driveway now. Y/N could see Ryan opening the front door and standing there like a dork holding out a box of tissues like an offering. 

Taylor opened the door and made sure Y/N didn’t fall as she got out of the SUV. The two made their way to Ryan and Y/N happily took the offered box. 

“Sorry Blake and the munchkins aren't here kiddo, but you and I are gonna have the best movie marathon ever!” Ryan informed Y/N.

“You'll have more fun here than you would alone at home I’m sure, I’ll call the two of you when I’m on my way out of the studio alright?” Taylor got two nods in return. She made sure to thank Ryan a few more times, and kiss Y/N on the head, before making her departure back to the car. 

“Alright Y/N, let's get you set up on the couch,” Ryan helped Y/N through the door and lifted the fuzziest blanket she’s ever seen from the couch to make room for her to lay. 

After getting her situated, Ryan grabbed the TV remote and asked Y/N to pick what they’d be watching. After a few seconds of silence, Ryan turned to her and expected her to be asleep, that however, was not the case, and she was sitting there with tears brimming her water line. 

“Oh goodness sweetheart, what's wrong?! I’ve only had you five minutes and I’ve already caused tears,” Ryan sounded so in distress it was only causing Y/N to actually start crying. 

“I want to watch the gay boys,” she admitted very quietly after a few seconds of sniffling and one blowing of her nose into a tissue. 

“Okay, ….I’m going to need a tad more information than that darling,” Ryan responded, feeling very confused, “Are we talking actually gay like Red White and Royal Blue, or Heartstopper, or something more underlying homoerotic like the Newsies, or Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes?” 

Ryan patiently sat and waited for a response, even if he felt quite out of his depth. I mean, who is he to judge what her comfort movie or show is, really. 

“I don’t know,” Y/N responded with a stronger burst of tears this time. 

“Okay, okay,” Ryan took a deep breath and tried to think. He’s a girl dad, he can do this. If he can’t even do this now then what does that say for his future with his own kids. He can do this, “alright! How about I make a wheel? A nice little one from google. We can put all the movies or shows you want to watch in there and neither of us have to choose, how’s that sound?” 

Ryan was feeling quite proud of himself with this idea, and Y/N seemed to be pretty on board, but then her face pinched up, and he didn’t know what he’d do if she started crying again. 

Y/N quickly grabbed another tissue and sneezed. God she hated being sick. It made her so emotional with all the overstimulation of feeling hot then cold, and the tissues becoming rougher and rougher on her nose, and her ears keep popping. Ryans idea sounded glorious. A wheel of her favorite things so she’d be happy no matter the outcome AND she didn’t even have to choose herself. Yes please. 

Finding her phone in the cushions, Y/N searched through her imessages to find the list of movies she had sent her mom to be downloaded to her plane's video software. Handing it to Ryan, Y/N watched as his form instantly relaxed and he began typing the titles into the wheel as he said. Once finished, he handed her phone back and also gave her his own so Y/N could spin the wheel. 

Clicking the button, Y/N watched the movies go around and around. Ryan even tapping a drum roll out on his thighs to make Y/N giggle. Y/N was quite happy when the wheel stopped on X-Men: First Class. Nothing better than some Cherik and Jennifer Lawrence for when you’re sick. 

Taking his phone back, Ryan quickly got Disney+ up and running to play the movie. If he was feeling a little jealous that she preferred x-men over his own Deadpool that he snuck onto the wheel, well, that was for him and nobody else to know about. He personally loved watching Deadpool when feeling under the weather. 

Hopefully his new project will make it onto the list of her favorite underlying homoerotic movies. 

Once the movie was playing, the two settled down to watch with rapt attention. Ryan would sometimes be disrupted by Y/N sneezing beside him, but it was pretty smooth sailing through the beginning. Ryan could see Y/N’s head turning into the pillow before jerking up to the screen again, but didn’t pay it too much mind. She’d sleep in no time.

Only, he probably should’ve kept a closer eye. The next time her head jerked up was when the youngins were all giving each other nicknames. It was quite a cute moment really. Only, Ryan turned to Y/N and saw more tears welling up. 

“Oh gosh, what’s up honey?” Ryan asked, trying to sound as upbeat as he could through his panic.

“I missed when Logan told them to fuck off,” Y/N responded with a wavering voice. 

Ryan again felt incredible relief, “oh thats an easy fix, we can rewind no problem sweetheart,” Ryan leaned forward for the remote and began to rewind back to when Charles and Erik began selecting mutants, all the while listening to Y/N’s cries lessen into sniffles. This also assured Ryan that maybe he would make it onto the favorites list…  everyone loves Hugh Jackman. 

Playing the movie from that point went fine. Y/N actually settled down to actually fall asleep after the Cherick gun-to-head bonding. 

Once she was asleep, Ryan felt comfortable running up to his office to bring his project outlines down to the dining table.  

This is how they spent the next few hours. Ryan woke Y/N to eat some soup he made, and then did end up putting on Red White and Royal Blue because he hadn't seen it. Y/N ended up falling asleep again around the group's Texas trip. 

Near the end of the film, Taylor called Ryan and informed him she’d be by in twenty minutes, along with another string of unnecessary apologies. 

Ryan decided to let Y/N sleep and welcomed Taylor in to wake her. The last thing he needed today was another bout of tears. 

After Taylor and Y/N hugged Ryan bye (with another round of thanks and sorrys) the two got back in the car and made their way to their apartment. 

“Did you have a good day sweetheart?” Taylor asked.

“Yeah, I had a good couple sleeps and food,” was all she responded with. Taylor figured that was good. Usually when at the Reynolds' she comes home with stories of the mischievous activities they got up to. Taylor can imagine that the lack of details means it was pretty tame, she’ll have to call Ryan for more details, but that could wait. 

Arriving at their building, Taylor and Y/N made their way into the lobby, both thanking the doorman of course, and up the elevator to their apartment. 

“Go take another nap sweetie, you look like you need it,” Taylor got Y/N laid out in her bed and got her shoes off her before tucking her in. Meredith even joined her in Y/N’s room and hopped up on the bed to begin her healing purrs. 

Kissing Y/N on the head, Taylor left the room to start making a light dinner. She’ll have to look into what it’d take the 1D boys to perform at James’ graduation party. She had like nine years, she’ll make it work. 

The End

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

What are your opinions on each of the songs? (you can answer with as much or as little detail as you'd like)

Big shocker that the songs from the 2 good episodes are in S and the only one that isn’t is still B tier/sar

The first 2 songs in S made me either tear up/shake violently or cry, and therefore they deserve to be up there IMO. Out for love is also just genuinely catchy and had actual build up to it. Also God “Ready for This” just. OOUGGGHHH IT SCRATCHES MY BRAIN SO GOOD LIKE A WARRIOR CATS MAP. I like it a lot. You cant have multiple characters sing about working together and expect me to NOT cry.

“Stayed Gone” isn’t one I listen to often but it’s so peppy and fast and full of hatred I can’t help but enjoy it. Also everytime the song starts my brain does this

I dont know anything about Welcome Home

I have. Issues. With “Loser, Baby” but aside from those the song holds a lot more weight to it than I usually give it credit for. And for as cheesy as the start if it is, the line before of Angel talking about self destructing resonates with me a lot. Also Husk lays down in a puddle of vomit and no one talks about that ever.

I think the first song in B is “Happy Day in Hell” and I’m adding it there 1. Because it is the first song 2. It gets a reprise thing 3. Charlie almost gets hit by a truck. Other than that it’s not really my favourite but I respect the impact it has.

“Hell is Forever” just fucks. End of story. Alex Brightman killed it.

“Respectless” is good I love Velvette’s VA, but the sudden start of the song and the ending are so out of left field the first time me and my friends watched this show we had to pause cause we lost our fucking minds. Could’ve been better but I’d listen to it again, yeah.

“Hell’s Greatest Dad” is silly and funny and maybe I’m biased as a violin player and jazz enjoyer but a lot of the instrumental tickles my brain so nicely. I will say though it confuses me so much because why does Alastor care about being seen as a father figure?? My mom said it could just be him wanting to show up Lucifer and that’s it but I dunno.

“More than Anything (Reprise)” AKA “Charlie and Veggie Kiss Scene - Hazbin Hotel”

This song sounds like it’s straight out of Barbie & Th Diamond Castle and I’m honestly pissed the girls in the movie didn’t kiss so I’m coping with this. ALSO THE FACT ITS A REPRISED SONG ABOUT LOVE MAKES ME A BIT CRAZY. I never noticed this was the same song Lucifer sang to Charlie SOMEHOW but that’s actually really cute.

“It Starts With Sorry” Has a big part in Sir Pentious’s character growth and just his character in general. I’ve been working on this in my Pentious rant but I never see people mention how much this song probably meant to him. Yeah it’s super corny, but he was fully expecting to be killed and had just been told to kill himself. This was definitely huge for him and I’m not gonna be convinced otherwise.

“You Didn’t Know” is really good but Lute’s part is by far the best and I pray to GOD she gets her own song in S2 her voice actor can SING. GODDAMN! I am very interested in Lute’s character development and I love seeing what people do with close-minded characters like that and hopefully Vivzie doesn’t condemn her to Vivziepop Woman Syndrome. If she isn’t important in S2 I’m going to be pissed but I dunno maybe S3 if we get one.

“More Than Anything” Wish my dad was like this! This song is incredibly sweet and I appreciate it a lot. Honestly might go way higher on the list if I keep thinking about it.

“Whatever It Takes” Sorry you will never be Imagine Dragons. Vaggie doesn’t sound anything like herself cause her VA is making her voice so much more gruff for her character, which is fine! I like her voice (the voice direction is not very good but I digress) it’s just her voice is so high in this I can’t even tell it’s Vaggie.

“Welcome to Heaven” is boring, but we got a Molly cameo!

“Poison”. Read this and this and this. -10/10. I’d rather make out violently with Elon Musk.

[sittinginsunflowers]

okay, I’m going full red string over the last episode. mainly because if queen amangeaux (put some goddamn respect on her name) had a child with her husband, wouldn’t that have solved all her problems? Sure, it would make her a target but the bishop was already warning her to lay low at the festival, and at least this would’ve secured her place on the throne until her child came of age. Unless she knew she was pregnant and then she decided not to say anything in trying to follow the bishop’s advice? Or she didn’t know at the time and then everything popped off. But that makes the baby at least a year and 3/4 months (if we use human pregnancy as the timeline??) and the baby read more as a newborn to me? Also in the adventuring party when they discussed the bishop’s secret, Anjali pointed out that he could’ve been poisoning her or her husband with the tea leaves to stop her from producing an heir. which could be a red herring, or could mean that the baby belongs to someone other than her husband, hence why she’s hidden him away. which would make sense since the coloring is a little different. So either the baby isn’t hers biologically and is just in her care, she had an affair while her husband was still alive, the baby is the true heir, or she got pregnant in the two year time jump.

how the fuck am I losing my mind over a mango’s sex life how did I get here

[onegianthotmess]

I’m imagining Leona meeting Morel’s mother after they become a couple-

Imagine them getting ready. Morel is freaking out because she doesn’t have enough mental strength to actually fight with her mother, so she’s trying to make sure everything is perfect and Leona is trying to calm her down at lease a little bit while also being clueless about what to do. She’s the one getting him in a decent enough suit and is doing his hair for him, simply pulling it back into a simple yet presentable ponytail because she had not the time or energy to do anything else with it-

Morel is prepping him like no fucking tomorrow, too.

And it goes like this:

Morel: *angrily adjusting Leona’s tie* I don’t wanna fucking do this, but if we’re gonna do it, it is going to be done right!

Leona: I thought you said nothing is good enough for your mother?

Morel: It is, but I’d rather be presentable since dinner is going to be in public at a nice restaurant. And if we show up dressed up, she won’t complain or remark about you as much.

Leona: I think I can handle that.

Morel: Well, you’re gonna need to follow some rules so that bitch of a whore hag won’t start screaming like a goddamn banshee in the middle of a restaurant, okay?

Leona: Okay, hit me.

Morel: One, no slouching, posture and poise have to be maintained at all times, especially when you first meet her otherwise it’s snide remarks all night. Two, proper etiquette and language must be used, think of how you’d speak in front of a judge or something. Three, always cut your food into as evenly sized pieces as you can, or you’ll be accused of stuffing your face. Four, your appetizer MUST be a salad or she’ll start ranting and raving and get us kicked out right on the spot because anything other than a small salad for an appetizer is like eating cardboard to her. And, most importantly, five, never, I mean NEVER EVER, disagree with her or you’ll still hear her arguing with you in your grave until you agree to her point of view.

Leona: …Is she really that bad?

Morel: She smashed a vase over Rayne’s face when she was seven just because she didn’t follow a tiny, minuscule rule, Leona.

Leona: Fuck, and I thought my mother was unhinged when she was mad…

Morel: Yeah, well, my mother is a fucking PSYCHO! And that’s on a day to day basis!

Leona: Would it calm you down if I did your hair for you?

Morel: *cute pout* Yes, please…

So, after they’re done getting ready, Morel and Leona make their way to the restaurant Morel’s mother wanted them to meet at. They get there a little early just as Mrs. Rosehearts gets there, much to Morel’s distain because now she has no more time to mentally prepare. Morel introduced Leona, pleasantries are exchanged, and they all enter and sit down at their reserved table.

Dinner goes off without any incident. Leona does as Morel told him, his posture and poise were perfectly straight, his language was formal, he begrudgingly ordered a small salad for his appetizer, he made sure to cut his food into evenly sized pieces as best he could, and he agreed with Mrs. Rosehearts anytime she stated her opinion. It was during this dinner that Leona was even more grateful for his kingdom’s teachings on respecting women and always being on the best behavior in front of them.

And, as food is cleared away and idle chitchat ensues, the question Morel had been waiting for left her mother’s mouth.

Mrs. Rosehearts: So, Leona, what do you do for work? I’m guessing it’s at least a small step above my daughter’s poor career choice.

Leona: I’m the second prince of Sunset Savana. I’ll likely become a high ranking member of the court when I finish my schooling at Night Raven College.

Mrs. Rosehearts: Oh, you’re still in school?

Leona: Yes, I got held back a year due to a lack of attending classes.

Mrs. Rosehearts: Not attending classes? That’s absurd!

Morel: Mother, just because Leona didn’t attend classes doesn’t mean he’s not intelligent.

Mrs. Rosehearts: Well, now I see what’s going on! You’ve been influenced by a slacker!

Morel: Mother, we’re in public. It would be better if you didn’t insult my significant other so loudly.

Mrs. Rosehearts: Well, excuse me for being concerned about who you’re trying to romance! You’ve already chosen a dreadful career that is sure to do you no good, so how did you think I’d react to you being influenced by a slacker?!

Leona: Mrs. Rosehearts, if I may, it was actually the other way around. Your daughter was the one who influenced me to do better.

Mrs. Rosehearts: I’m not going to buy such a poor excuse from a man who couldn’t even show up to classes at school.

Morel: Mother. Please.

Mrs. Rosehearts: Oh, cease your whining, Morel! You know just as well as I do that this so-called “relationship” you have is a waste of time if you’re going to be with a slacker!

Morel: Actually, you might be right about something being a waste of time.

Mrs. Rosehearts: See? You really should end this pitiful little relationship before-

Morel: No, it’s not my relationship that’s a waste of time—it’s this dinner that is a waste of time.

Leona: Morel, you don’t have to-

Mrs. Rosehearts: Excuse me?

Morel: Answering your message requesting you meet my boyfriend was a waste of time, getting ready for this dinner was a waste of time, coming to the restaurant and eating with you was a waste of time and money, and this conversation is a waste of my time as well.

Morel: So, while you sit here alone and contemplate why you’ll never meet your future grandchildren, I’m going to leave our half of the bill on this table, walk out of here with Leona, go home, and have sex for the second time today. Good evening to you, Mother.

And then Morel stood up, slapped half of the bill’s cost down on the table, and dragged Leona out of the restaurant, ignoring her mother’s many questions. Leona drove because Morel probably would’ve totaled the car if she drove with how angry she was, but the car ride was mostly silent aside from the noise outside of the vehicle.

When they got home (Morel’s small house), obviously Leona talked to Morel and made sure she was alright after the disastrous ending to the night. And once all was well and good, Morel made good on her words as she told her mother what she was going to do and she and Leona did the naked sideways tango under the sheets because Morel does not tell lies.

I’m just imagining that scenario in my head and it’s hilarious-

[fruitbasketball]

I want to know your thoughts on the mock draft !!!

LEMME GET INTO ITTTTT

why this guy paige at #1 she’s so mid bro

nah 1 and 2 solid

but after that it gets kinda dicey

if y’all seen olivia miles play, you know she’s a DAWG like… we’re talking second team all america, preseason watchlists, like she can HOOP

but that injury bug… there’s people ahead of her in this draft in my mind, like 3 is crazy - i think olivia, azzi, and rori in that order at 5,6,7 ish

and imma explain about azzi before y’all get too tight like CHILLLLLL you know azzi’s my girl

i think that 3 spot should be aneesah’s… she’s so stupid underrated even after going to lsu, and i think w angel in the league she’s going to be a more prioritized scoring option for them. this girl is a PURE HOOPER; the fact that mulkey lowk had mikayla williams as the second/third option over her is nuts - esp when she literally averaged a double double on a team WITH ANGEL REESE

idk ab this french girl like who knows overseas is not my circus but te-hina paopao is EASILY a top 4-8 pick. this is NUTS. this girl LED THE COUNTRY in 3pfg we NEED some respect here like godDAMN

i put raven at 8, bc yes she’s a DAWG but putting her OVER te-hina paopao is luuuudicrous to me

saniya rivers is also way too low, and bro imma be SO FUCKING FR: georgia amoore is not a first round pick imo. maybe literally dead fucking last but anything other than that is… nah bro. that’s nuts. high second round sure. but first round OVER SANIYA RIVERS?? fuck outta here.

lemme speak on rori and azzi rq

coming out of high school: both of them, i would’ve said t5 easy, azzi goes first (paige out of the picture ofc)

but there’s that injury bug again and when you’re not paige bueckers, it fucks with your draft stock.

now rori only has one year of injury, and she’s recovering fast (or forcing a speedy recovery, which is just stupid, but we’ll see which one it is) but azzi on the other hand… she’s never even played a full season of college basketball

but i still take azzi over rori, even after the way rori shut down uconn’s defense this past season, because a healthy azzi fudd is just that good

if she stays healthy this season, and she’s playing as good as i KNOW she can, azzi’s a top 3 pick easy

as it stands RIGHT NOW THO - azzi sitting at a healthy 5-8 is fair

and if she waits another year, and she goes with flau’jae’s class - i can see her fighting flau or lauren or cotie for that number one spot and winning out

but i’m thinking from like a cost benefit analysis standpoint - if azzi plays a full season of college basketball, absolutely smokes bitches, brings home that natty… the 3 spot is hers. if i’m azzi - i declare right after the natty, or even before depending on how my season’s going. imma keep it a buck - i wouldn’t risk the extra season of college ball when i know i’m essentially guaranteed a roster spot in the w