#brad pitt save me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lily-fics-11 · 9 months ago

Text

The Girl Next Door: Chapter 1 (Hazel Callahan)

The Girl Next Door

Fic master post here (feel free to comment to be added to tag list)

You hadn’t been close with your neighbor Hazel for a few years. But you find her beat up in the locker room after fight club and all of that changes.

Chapter 1

You reunite with Hazel and clean her up after fight club

CW: mentions of blood and injury, allusions to violence, cursing, not beta read

You make your way to the locker room after staying behind at school to work on a group project. You forgot your hoodie in your gym locker, so you are grabbing it quickly before heading home.

While you are at your locker you hear the door open and close. Someone else has entered the locker room, but you don’t think anything of it.

As you go to leave you walk past the bathroom and you see someone standing in front of one of the sinks. She is facing the other way but you can see her reflection in the mirror. You notice that there is blood on her face and dripping down her shirt, paired with a swollen eye. You are obviously concerned and stop to take a closer look. Upon further inspection you realize that it is your neighbor.

“Hazel?” You call as you approach her. She sees you in the mirror and turns around. Why does she look amused?

“Hey!” She greets you like the circumstances are normal.

“What the hell happened to you?” This wasn’t the best school, but you would never have thought someone would get attacked like this.

“Oh this?” She looks down at her bloody shirt and shrugs. “I was just in fight club.”

“Who are you? Brad Pitt?” You are a little angry, what the hell is fight club and how did someone sweet and innocent like Hazel end up in it? You can’t help but feel bad for thinking that she looks kind of hot like this.

“No, no, of course not. Some of my friends have started a self defense club, we call it fight club because we learn to defend ourselves by fighting eachother.”

You sigh and decide to save your questions for later and give in to your instinct to take care of her.

“Why don’t we get you cleaned up?” You suggest to her.

She shifts uncomfortably and scratches the back of her head. She avoids eye contact by looking at the floor.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m fine, really,” she protests.

“I can’t just leave you here like this. I know we aren’t close anymore but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.” You mean every word. Hazel started to distance herself from you towards the end of middle school. You never knew why. You settled in with the popular crowd and Hazel settled in to her own niche. But it hurt you so badly and came right as you realized you had feelings for her. You have pushed those feelings down over the years, you’ve even had a girlfriend. But seeing Hazel like this, your old feelings are bubbling up to the surface.

Her eyes just widen, surprised, as if you had been the one to push her away. She tries to hide it, but a smile starts to creep across her face. “I guess I could use some help cleaning up. It doesn’t usually get so messy, I swear.”

“Oh believe me, I’m going to need to hear more about this fight club. But right now we need to do something about all of this blood,” your voice is tender, you are not sure exactly what she’s been through today and you want to be delicate.

You put your things down and grab a paper towel. You wet it and get closer to Hazel. As you reach towards her face she takes a sharp breath in. You aren’t sure why though, you haven’t even touched her yet.

“I promise I’m going to be as gentle as I can, but it’s still going to hurt,” you explain.

Hazel just nods and closes her eyes.

You begin to dab the wet paper towel on her face and the blood starts to come off. She winces with pain and says “ow” every once in a while, her eyes still sealed shut.

“Why don’t you talk to me? It’ll distract you from the pain.” You are suggesting it for her, but also for you. You’ve really missed talking to Hazel.

She opens her eyes to look at you with a tense expression.

“Right, right. Good idea. Um… how have you been?”

“Well I haven’t been punched in the face recently, so better than you,” you laugh a little and she does too.

“Fight club is great, for real. Yeah we get a little banged up, but it’s a safe space.”

You can’t help but laugh more as you echo “safe space.”

You expect her to continue to defend her new venture but she quickly changes the subject instead.

“So, how’s your um,” Hazel pauses to clear her throat, “girlfriend?”

That takes you by surprise. You didn’t really talk to Hazel at all but you guess that it makes sense that she would know which lesbians are in relationships with each other.

“Oh, we actually broke up. Last week,” you tell her shyly. It’s weird discussing your love life with someone that has your old feelings for her creeping up on you.

“I’m… sorry to hear that.” Does she sound relieved? It wasn’t a secret that your ex wasn’t exactly the nicest to you, so that must be it.

“It was for the best. Things weren’t exactly good between us,” you admit.

“You deserve so much better than her!” Hazel blurts out unexpectedly.

“I… thank you. That means a lot to me.” She just nods her head.

You take a step back and her eyes widen, seeming to think it was her fault.

“I’m done,” you tell her and you see a wave of relief come over her.

“What are we going to do about that shirt?”

“I’ll just change when I get home.” Hazel tells you.

“No, no.” You protest and pick up your hoodie. You offer it to her “take this.”

Hazel’s eyes dart around nervously. “That’s, um, okay.”

“You are going to get your little fight club disbanded” you warn, “if anyone sees you walking around with blood all over you like that. It’s bad enough that you’ve got a black eye. Plus everyone is still freaking out about that girl getting beat up by the Huntington football player.”

Hazel takes a nervous breath and starts to pull her shirt off. Your eyes widen and you know you should look away but it’s hard to when she reveals her toned stomach and sports bra. “What are you…” you begin to question frantically.

She cuts you off, “I don’t want to get any blood on your sweatshirt.”

You nod and finally peel your eyes off of her. You look away but leave your hand out so she can take the hoodie.

After a moment she clears her throat and you look back at her. You can’t help but smile a little bit seeing your hoodie on Hazel.

“I better get going,” she says and she starts to walk away. You step in front of her.

“Your eye is practically swollen shut. You can’t drive like that. I’ll give you a ride home.”

She freezes like a dear in headlights. She looks like she’s about to protest but she knows you are right.

“But my car? How am I supposed to get back to it, get to school tomorrow?” She asks nervously.

“I’ll just drive you to school tomorrow,” you tell her with a smirk. You can’t help it. The thought of getting to spend more time with Hazel excites you. She looks a little intimidated by how forward you are. She avoids eye contact. “I guess I’ll grab my stuff.”

181 notes · View notes

streets-in-paradise · 6 days ago

Text

I too roam the old internet in search of content of my beloved. The stuff you get is very decent quality!

a few newly-discovered closeups of my love <3

#i once found an old as shit brad pitt fansite that had every promotional still of troy and every achilles moment screenshoted #unfortunately the platform it was hosting it crashed before i could download everything #because it was too much stuff for me to save in one sit #and when i came back it was gone :(

4 notes · View notes

umlewis · 2 months ago

Text

Lewis Hamilton: I've Struggled With Depression From A Very Early Age

From Formula One glory to making a film with Brad Pitt, at 39, the sports star is more successful than ever. It's been tough, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

Sir Lewis Hamilton is the most successful Formula 1 driver in history, with 105 (at the time of writing) grand prix victories to his name, as well as seven championships and a knighthood in 2021. What makes this achievement even more extraordinary is Hamilton's background. He is the first and only black man to race in F1, a sport dominated by the gilded progeny of wealthy white families. A child of mixed heritage-his father, Anthony, is of Grenadian descent; his mother, Carmen, is a white woman from Birmingham-Hamilton was partly raised on a council estate in Stevenage, his family sacrificing so much to get him to the track. "I am grateful I had that experience. I remember not having any money. I remember the struggle of my parents. I feel that's an advantage," he says. "Did you fight harder on the track because it was so tough for you to get there," I ask. "One thousand per cent," he replies. We are meeting at the Kensington Roof Gardens (Hamilton has a home in London, as well as Monaco, Geneva, Colorado and New York). He is a vision in expensive beige: Maison Margiela slacks, chunky Bottega Veneta boots, a Dries Van Noten cardigan, Dior bracelets, Cartier rings, a pearl necklace he bought online, twinkly little studs, one for each side of his nose, his hands a collage of geometric tattoos. But his love of fashion goes beyond amassing a "dream" wardrobe. He has collaborated with Tommy Hilfiger on several collections and has just been made guest designer at Dior, for whom he has a debut collection coming this autumn, the palette for which was inspired by his travels in Africa, particularly Nigeria. Hamilton agrees it's a busy time for him. At the end of this season he will be moving to Ferrari, after twelve years with Mercedes. "It's been a rollercoaster of emotions from the moment I signed the contract. Telling my boss, that was terrifying. But it's so exciting because I remember as a kid watching Michael. Every driver watches that car and you're like, 'What would it be like to sit in the red cockpit?'" He is a quiet presence, boyish almost, despite his 39 years. He uses euphemisms for swearwords such as "frick" and "shoot." He doesn't drink, is "plant-based," and loves hanging out with his nieces and nephew, playing Uno and Fortnite, chucking them about in the pool on holiday. "I'm really good with the kids," he says, setting aside his oat latte. "With them I feel like I'm able to be the kid that I am."

Hamilton's own childhood was not so carefree. His parents separated when he was two, his father meeting his new wife, Linda, at British Rail, where they both worked. Sundays with his dad were spent watching Formula 1. This was the era of the talismanic Brazilian driver Ayrton Senna, Hamilton's hero. It was during a holiday in Ibiza that he first got in a go-kart. "I was hooked," he says. "The adrenaline, the chaos, trying to control it. You feel it in your chest, your emotions, through your fingers, everything." Hamilton's dad bought him a kart for Christmas when he was eight. "I think he just wanted something to do with me, this kid that had all this energy, that had no fear." He describes himself, back then, as a "Tasmanian devil," a child who didn't enjoy school, who had undiagnosed dyslexia, who was shy - but behind the wheel "something flowed through me. It was the only thing I was confident in." The family began to orientate their existence around Hamilton's racing, his father taking extra jobs, while his stepmum spent all her savings on his new passion. Hamilton won his first race when he was ten. "That was really empowering for me," he says, 'Because I was competing against a lot of wealthier families."

It was also around this time that Senna died, his car crashing into a concrete barrier during the San Marino Grand Prix. "I was with my dad; we were working on the go-kart. I remember going to the front and crying, bawling my eyes out. I couldn't cry in front of my dad. He was not that kind of guy." Hamilton suppressed his grief, in the same way that he suppressed his emotions about the bullying and racism he endured. "There was no escaping it. You experience it at school, in the parks, walking through town. I didn't understand it and my parents never spoke to me about it. They never explained what was going on. My dad was just, 'Keep your head down, hold it in, don't say anything, just beat them on the track, that's all you can do.'" So that was what he did. When Hamilton was thirteen he was offered a place on the McLaren driver development team. His father became his manager, looking after all elements of his career, including finance. "Even when I got to Formula 1, at 22, I had no comprehension of money," he says. Hamilton's first F1 season was in 2007, his first championship win in 2008. But despite all that it gave him, despite his deep love of the sport, of competing, Hamilton found the world of F1 corporate and stifling. There was a requirement to conform, a residual feeling that just one misstep and the opportunities he had been given would be taken away. "It wasn't until I'd had some wins that I started to put my toe out of the box. Each time it was, like, you make one step and that rock's safe, but that next one was wobbly or would fall away. You'd get criticism about how you were presenting yourself. But I kept punching and kept fighting." Racing, like so much competitive sport, can be a lonely business. "You're nice and friendly outside the car," Hamilton says, "but in the car my dad would say you have to be ruthless, aggressive, sharp. In the car there are no friends." He found greater freedom, a sense of belonging and camaraderie, in the fashion world, attending his first show in 2007. "Everyone was wearing what they wanted. You didn't feel like you were being judged because everyone's on their own vibe. It was the first time I got into an environment where everyone was expressing themselves and I loved it."

Hamilton tried to bring some of that creative freedom to his professional life. In 2010 he sacked his father as manager. "Obviously parents try to protect their kids, forever I guess, and some don't want to let go. My dad struggled with that. There was a point when I was like, 'Look, I've done everything you've asked me to do, now let me live my life. I am going to have to make my own mistakes.' That was a really tough process." At the end of the 2012 season he left McLaren for Mercedes. "They gave me a lot more freedom," he says. He became involved in the look of the team, bringing in Hilfiger to help redesign the clothing. "But still if I felt there were wrongdoings, I didn't feel I could speak out." That all changed in 2020, when Hamilton watched a video of the murder of George Floyd by the policeman Derek Chauvin. "The cork popped. It had me on my knees in tears. All this emotion came out. It was such a strange experience because I don't remember crying since I was really young. I knew that I'd had enough, I really needed to speak out. There are people that are staying silent, people that feel voiceless, and I have this platform. Winning championships is an amazing thing, but what are you doing with it? What are you doing with your time on this planet?" These were the questions that Hamilton began asking himself during that pandemic year, which was also when he started meditating. "I would struggle initially to calm my mind, but it's a really great way of getting in touch with myself, my inner feelings, understanding what I want to do." These days he meditates every morning, waking at five, following this with a ten km run, which he sees as an extension of his meditation, a time to have ideas, to clear his mind.

"When I was in my twenties I had some really difficult phases. I mean, I’ve struggled with mental health through my life." What are we talking, I ask. Anxiety, depression? "Depression. From a very early age, when I was, like, thirteen . I think it was the pressure of the racing and struggling at school, the bullying. I had no one to talk to." I ask if he has ever seen a therapist. "I spoke to one woman, years ago, but that wasn't really helpful. I would like to find someone today." He has gone on silent retreats and reads books about mental health, including The 5 Love Languages by Gary Chapman. "You're learning about things that have been passed down to you from your parents, noticing those patterns, how you react to things, how you can change those. So what might have angered me in the past doesn't anger me today. I am so much more refined." The year 2020 was a time of profound personal change. Hamilton took the knee before every race he entered that year. He advocated for change within his industry, initiating the Hamilton Commission to research the underrepresentation of black people in UK motorsport and the STEM sector. Using this information, he launched Mission 44, a charity to help young people around the world overcome social injustice, investing £20 million (he is worth an estimated £350 million) into the project.

He also started moving into other spheres with greater purpose, including fashion and music. He developed a non-alcoholic drink, Almave, and set up a film production company. "I want to be able to tell diverse stories. Film has changed my life. There is so much inspiration I have received," he says. One of his first co-productions is F1, the upcoming movie with Brad Pitt and a more diverse vision of the circuit, including a female technical director. "That was important to me. I lived with my dad, but I was really raised by my two mums and my two sisters. I grew up around a lot of female energy, powerful women. Most of the people on my team are women. The women hold it down." And, of course, there is Pitt playing a driver in his fifties. "That was a tricky part for me," Hamilton says, "because, shoot, of course we want Brad. But I was like, there is no way a 58 year old can compete with a twenty year old. These guys have got nothing going on but to race. And they're fit. So we had to work around this narrative, telling him how much harder he would have to train to get in shape." Hamilton himself is old for an F1 driver, most of whom retire in their thirties. His replacement at Mercedes, the Italian Kimi Antonelli, has only just turned eighteen. You could be his dad, I say, and Hamilton laughs like this hadn't actually occurred to him. "Honestly, right now I feel I'm healthier than I've ever been," he says. "I'm in such a good place, physically and mentally. My reaction times are still quicker than the young guys. I think I'm a better driver than I was at 22. I was just young, energetic and ruthless, but no finesse, no balance. I didn't know how to be a team player, how to be a leader. Being a good racing driver, it's not just about being fast. It's about being the most rounded. When I study the legends, they're spread between small percentages, so it's the whole package. What do they speak for, stand for? That's what I look at. I look to Ayrton Senna and Nelson Mandela, and those are the two people gelled together that I want to be."

Senna used to cross himself before every race. Like him, Hamilton was raised a Catholic. "I pray every time before I race," he says. "I pray that everyone is safe." Motor racing is far less dangerous than it used to be, but people still die. I ask Hamilton if he fears death when he drives. "I don't, no," he says. "But still, we're traveling at crazy speeds. You have to respect it. So that's why I'm conscious of the time I spend with my family, with my mum. Is this the last time I get to hug her? Because you just don't know. Nothing is guaranteed." Hamilton is single, but he would like to have a family. "One day. I wouldn't be able to do what I do to the level that I do it today with that. One of my best friends has just had a kid and I'm seeing how manic it is. And my nieces and nephew are a handful. There will be a time and a place for it, and I can't wait for that part. But right now I have some work to do."

#lewis hamilton #f1 #formula 1 #fic ref #fic ref 2024 #not a race #2024 not a race #between singapore and usa 2024 #(note to self: article posted 6 pm bst on sep 28 2024. no idea when actually conducted.)#tw alcohol #tw racism #tw police brutality

57 notes · View notes

e-dubbc11 · 8 months ago

Text

Trust Your Gut

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of rohypnol (date rape drug), fluff, smooches, mention of a little violence

Word Count: 2.7K-ish

Summary: You keep seeing a very handsome stranger every Friday at happy hour with your work friends. He saves you from a potential dangerous situation

A/N: Miss me? 🤣 I had a lovely vacation, didn’t really look forward to going back to work but I’m happy to be back to writing. And if there’s anything you’d like to see from me, don’t hesitate to send something to my inbox. Come say hi! ♥️ So anyway, I saw a prompt on the blog @creativepromptsforwriting and I wanted to use it. #1061 - “I have wanted to kiss you every time I’ve seen you smile.” “Then why haven’t you yet?”

Oh and I make mention of Tyler Durden, Brad Pitt’s character in Fight Club. If you haven’t seen it, what are you waiting for…it’s classic!

Not much else to say except I hope you like it! ♥️

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Before you had even set one foot into the bar today, you felt his presence.

That gut feeling you had all day while you were at work, a combination of butterflies and knots danced and twisted around in your stomach as you kept glancing at the time, waiting for the moment you could clock out so you could go and meet your friends for your usual Friday after-work drink.

For the past month, you had noticed him. The way his long dexterous fingers wrapped around the glass of bourbon, the way his throat moved up and down as the amber liquid trickled down his throat, and the clenching of his teeth as his drink hit his stomach.

He was so handsome, mysterious, and sexy as fuck. His eyes looked like two pieces of onyx that shined when the dim lights of the bar hit them just right and you tried your hardest not to seem like you were staring at him but he probably knew you were.

Every woman in that place stared at him. How could they not? Between his handsome face, the fancy suit and tie, those eyes you could get lost in, and a smile that made you weak in the knees, you were irresistibly drawn to him. He could have his pick of any woman but you were surprised that every woman that threw themselves at him, he turned them all down.

Why?

Actually, you didn’t care why he turned them down. You only cared that he did turn them down and you didn’t have to watch him leave with someone that wasn’t you but you were too shy to even think of speaking to someone of his caliber.

All of those thoughts disappeared as soon as you saw your friends waiting for you. You were there to have a good time with them, not to gawk at the handsome man in the fancy suit. They had saved you a seat and it happened to be near Mr. Fancy Pants’ table.

Your gut never lied; he was there already.

He was drinking with a few other guys also dressed in fancy suits. Your heart jumped from your chest into your throat and you managed to catch a glimpse of him before he could return your gaze although he probably didn’t even look away from his friends.

“I’m bringing someone for you next week, y/n.” Your friend Jenna said.

Your mind was somewhere else and you were staring off into space so you didn’t exactly hear her.

“What?” You replied.

She glared at you, pointed and asked, “You didn’t pay attention to a word I just said, did you.”

You felt bad and apologized.

“I’m sorry, Jenna. I guess I’m a little distracted.” You replied.

Every woman in the bar had a crush on Mr. Fancy Pants, but you didn’t let it show that you did too. It was difficult but you acted like he wasn’t even there. If there was a way for you to become invisible so no one would see you ogling him, you would do it in a heartbeat.

Stolen glances would have to do…for now.

**********

The following Friday, your standing date with your friends was rapidly approaching and you were nervous about the guy Jenna said she was bringing for you. She said his name is Tyler and he is a personal trainer/boxer at the gym that she and her husband go to. Every time you heard the name “Tyler,” two words popped into your head…Fight Club.

“…And could you try not to mention Fight Club when you meet him? I knew exactly what you were thinking when I told you his name was Tyler.” Said Jenna.

You shrugged and said, “Ok, but you know that happens when I get nervous. I just start quoting movies or blurt out song lyrics. I can’t help it. It’s who I am.” You said with a slight chuckle and batting your eyelashes.

It almost sounded like Jenna didn’t want you to be yourself but she wanted you to be someone else when talking to Tyler but you would try to keep your movie quotes to a minimum, although you couldn’t make any guarantees.

He was nice enough, good looking, and seemed like he enjoyed his job. But he was a little full of himself, dull and didn’t seem like the brightest crayon in the box, nothing like the real object of your affection, Suit & Tie. Everyone in the room was drawn to him.

Without saying a word, he commanded your attention and always seemed in charge of everything. That kind of power over people turned you on, it sent a restless shiver down your spine, and a sudden warmth brushed across your cheeks.

Your blind date, however, droned on and on about the gym, his clients, some of them famous people, which didn’t impress you in the slightest. Your mind wandered, thinking about if Suit & Tie’s taste in bourbon was impeccable like his taste in suits.

Your desire to taste the bourbon on his lips kept getting stronger with every sip he took. The words coming out of Tyler’s mouth were not registering and it sounded like he was speaking underwater. That’s how little you were paying attention to what he was saying.

There was something about Tyler that wasn’t sitting right with you, though. He put out kind of a weird vibe but you couldn’t put your finger on exactly what it could be. Your intuition has never betrayed you before and you didn’t think it would start now.

Setting your empty glass onto the bar, you told Tyler you needed to use the ladies’ room and said you would order another beer when you got back. Emerging from the bathroom, you were startled to see who was standing in front of you. Mr. Fancy Pants. Your stomach lurched upward toward your throat before settling back down and he wasted no time starting the conversation.

“You have a date tonight, I see.” He said softly with a warm smile.

He noticed that he scared you.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologized and extended his hand for you to shake. “Billy Russo…nice to meet you.”

Shaking his hand, you replied, “OH! I’m y/n, it’s really nice to meet you Billy. And yeah it��s—it’s a blind date.”

Billy moved in closer, caging you in against the wall down the long and narrow hallway. The scent of his spicy cologne floated past your nose and he placed his hand against the wall just above your head. He was even more handsome up close.

“Do you like him?” He asked in a serious tone as the line of his mouth tightened a fraction more.

Not really knowing how to respond, you stumbled over your words at first but managed to pull yourself together long enough to answer him.

“Oh…well…I dunno,” You had started to say. “Actually…I feel like there’s just something off about Tyler but I don’t know what it is.” You whispered.

Billy’s endless brown eyes stared into yours. He looked…angry but you weren’t frightened.

“You felt that, huh?” He replied.

Nervously, you nodded.

“Yeah, I felt that too and confirmed it when I saw him slip something into the fresh beer that’s waiting for you on the bar.” He said through clenched teeth.

You covered your mouth in disbelief.

“WHAT?! I purposely didn’t order another beer yet so I could watch it being poured.” You asked in a scared tone.

“Look, I know you don’t know me but I don’t want anything to happen to you because, well…I” Billy trailed off. “Do you trust me?”

Strangely enough, you did. You trusted him like you’ve known him for years.

“Y-yes, I do…Billy.” You answered.

The corners of his mouth turned up into a sly smile.

“Good, because I’ve kinda developed a little crush on you in the four weeks I’ve been comin’ in here. I keep suggesting this place to my team, hopin’ I’d get to see you.” He whispered in your ear, his hand still pressed against the wall, and his slight New York accent peeking through.

His words went straight to your core and instantly goosebumps peppered across your skin as the scent of bourbon escaped his lips when he spoke.

“Really?” You asked, shyly.

Biting down on his lower lip, he nodded.

“Well…I may have a little crush on you too.” You said with a slight smile.

Your hands trembled as you reached for his tie. Sliding it through your fingers, you looked up at him through your long dark lashes, desperately wanting him to kiss you and not caring that you just officially met him a few minutes ago.

Billy Russo was the one person in the entire bar that you felt like you could trust wholeheartedly and that included the trust you had in your co-workers and friends. It was hard to explain but everything about him just felt right.

Billy had inched close enough for the two of you to share the same air, causing you to swallow hard before he spoke again.

“I have wanted to kiss you every time I’ve seen you smile.” He said slowly as he grazed your cheek with his knuckles and tucked a stray hair behind your ear, away from your face.

Billy’s lips ghosted over yours as you asked with a smile, “Then why haven’t you yet?”

Flashing that million-dollar smile, he gently cupped your cheeks and drew your face closer to his before his lips were pressed firmly against yours. They tasted like vanilla with a mixture of sweetness and bite as he continued to kiss you a little harder now. Your stomach dropped when his body pressed up against you and your hands migrated to his raven colored hair.

His kisses were even better than you imagined they would be.

Breathlessly, his name fled from your lips as he kissed up and down the side of your neck. You completely lost yourself in the moment before snapping back to reality and remembered about Tyler, your friends, and the fact that no one has been down this hallway since you came out of the ladies’ room.

“Billy…no one’s come down here looking for either one of us.” You said.

He pulled back and said with a devilish grin, “Oh I got a guy at the end of the hallway preventing anyone from coming down here. I didn’t want any interruptions before I could tell you what that asshole did to your drink.”

“Shit…I keep forgetting about that.” You said, pressing your palm to your forehead.

Billy smirked again. “I’ll take that as a compliment, pretty eyes. Have dinner with me.” He commanded.

“Are you requesting or demanding?” You asked with a warm smile.

He leaned in to kiss you again.

“Please?” Asked Billy.

Without any hesitation, you replied, “Well since you asked nicely…yes, I’d love to Mr. Fancy Pants.”

Billy started to laugh.

“Mr. Fancy Pants, huh.” Said Billy.

You shrugged.

“Well, I didn’t know your name so that’s just how I referred to you in my head.” You said with a slight chuckle. “Suit & Tie was another one I used.”

He laughed at that one too.

“Well, I like both of them.” He said.

Just as he finished his sentence, a voice boomed from down the hall.

“Hey Bill!”

Billy yelled back.

“Yeah, what is it Frankie?!”

“You done warnin’ Miss Pretty Eyes about that fuckin’ scumbag yet?! Says he needs to use the bathroom.” He said, his voice dripping with disdain.

You narrowed your eyes slightly as the corners of your mouth curled into a smile.

“Pretty Eyes? You’ve told other people about the nickname, I see.” You said to Billy.

Billy winked at you and replied to his friend.

“Go ahead, Frankie. Let him down here and then you can watch me work!” Yelled Billy, with a devilish grin.

He was breathless with anger. Clenching his teeth, you watched as Billy’s hand balled into a fist until his knuckles shown white. The same knuckles that were gently brushing your cheek a few moments ago were getting ready to connect with Tyler’s face.

“You’re gonna hurt him, aren’t you.” You said nervously; your hands shaking slightly.

Billy kissed you on the forehead and replied, “Tyler’s walkin’ in to his own personal Fight Club. I’m gonna make sure he’ll think twice before doing that to someone else, y/n.”

The reference to Fight Club made you laugh. Movie references randomly popped into your head at any given time. It appeared that they randomly popped into Billy’s head also. This guy just might be your person.

“Ah, you forgot the first rule of Fight Club, Mr. Russo!” You chuckled a little. “So, do you beat people up professionally orrrrr?” You asked sarcastically.

He gave you another wicked smile and said, “We can talk about that at dinner and then you can remind me what the rules of Fight Club are.”

Immediately after he started walking down the hall, Tyler began running his mouth, telling Billy to get away from me, and “hope he’s ready to have his ass kicked.” When he got close, Tyler took a couple swings at him but missed and Billy proceeded to show him what happens to guys who mess with other people’s drinks.

Shoving Tyler out of the back door, Billy bloodied him enough to where you knew he’d never do that to anyone ever again and had the bartender call the police. When they dumped the beer out, there was some white residue along the bottom of the glass.

“Hey, he took swings at me first. I was just defending myself.” Said Billy, after being asked why Tyler’s face looked like a mangled piece of meat.

Bar patrons and Frank had watched Tyler swing first so they corroborated Billy’s story that he was “defending himself” and Jenna apologized for trying to set you up with such a creep. It wasn’t her fault; how could she have known? But she still felt pretty bad about the whole thing.

“I promise, I’ll never try and set you up again. I’m not very good at it, apparently.” She said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

“Well maybe if this works out, you won’t have to set me up again.” You said.

Watching Billy talk to the police, you felt a sense of relief, and it scared you to think of what would have happened if he wasn’t there. If he wasn’t watching at that exact moment, something terrible could have happened to you.

Billy had finished talking with the cops when you rushed over to him, crashed into his chest and wrapped your arms tightly around his torso. The shock of it all had worn off and you were left thinking about all of the bad things that could have happened.

He was surprised but returned your embrace as tears streaked down your face.

“Hey, hey it’s ok, y/n. It’s ok. You’re safe.” He whispered against the top of your head.

“Thank you, Billy.” You said with a hitch in your voice, trying not to get your tears on his shirt.

You just kept thanking him over and over again. You had to make sure he knew just how grateful you were to him for today.

“I’ll never let anything bad happen to you…pretty eyes. You can trust me.” Said Billy with a slight smile.

His voice was calm and smooth like warm honey. He soothed you and reassured you that you were alright. Billy’s long arms wrapped around you, his body was a warm cradle for yours, and you fit perfectly against him.

“I know I can, Billy. I don’t know how I know…but I do.” You said as the corners of your mouth curled into a shy smile.

Brushing his beard with your thumbs, you leaned in to kiss him again. Instinctively, you knew there was something off about Tyler but at the same time, your gut told you there was something about Billy Russo that fit just right.

You would just have to remember to really listen to that inner voice from now on when it tells you something important, whether it’s bad or very…very…good.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @ittybxttykxttytxtty @mrsbillyrusso @russosafehaven

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x you

89 notes · View notes

sun-ni-day · 6 months ago

Text

Manu Bennett talks about working with Austin Butler in Shannara Chronicles Panel at San Diego Comic Con 2015:

I lost my mother when I was young and it kind of made my emotions as an actor... I poured my heart and soul into this art because it saved me... And I know Austin lost his mother as well, and it wasn't that long ago. And one of the more important parts about his role in the series is his journey away from the mother who's passed and in finding himself as a man. And I swear to you, this guy's got so much talent. I mean, he looks like Brad Pitt, but he's good! He's got a heart of gold! And I know he's doing everything he can to bring that out on the screen.

#AUSTIN'S FACE #look at that precious shy puppy #while Manu is drowning him in praise and love #Manu really touched Austin deep #and thank god Austin had someone near who understood the fresh hell he was going through at that time #austin butler #manu bennett #the shannara chronicles #itecontest

33 notes · View notes

nastasya--filippovna · 1 year ago

Text

A funny little story full of funny little coincidences and sweet serendipity, but I know people on this site love that

This is a funny story of how I got into the Good Omens fandom. And it is so weird that sometimes I even amaze myself when I tell someone. But I love to tell this one....... so....................................

Late 2021 I watched Wilde and I absolutely loved it. And the best thing out of the movie was that I discovered Michael Sheen. I remember at the time being struck by two things: a) how this actor who had a side character and a small role was so magnificently out-acting great actors like Jude Law (just my personal opinion plz don't come at me for that) and all because of these beautiful micro-expression which I find myself criticizing many big actors like Brad Pitt even for that they lack good subtle micro expression and its as if their faces are dead, nothing is going on there. But Michael is always acting even when the camera is not focused on him he is in character. And (b) his fine beauty. I mean as a lesbian and more than that a portrait artist, I was mesmerized by the artistic beauty in the most non-sexual way.

And I found myself spiraling down the MS hole. And I watched literally everything he has ever done. Except one thing.

Good Omens.

That was because I love Neil Gaiman as a writer. His books have saved me during some very dark times in my love and his work is absolutely sacred to me. To be honest I didn't enjoy his other adaptations. They sucked the juiciness out of the books and kinda confirmed my earlier conviction that no filmed adaption of a book will ever do justce to the written word.

And it's so weird that I had seen all the other adaptations but I hadn't ever heard of GO adaptation.

And then one day I was like yk what just f^ck it. I'll just watch it and strike this one of my list (I'm a cinephile on a mission to watch almost everything ever made in the world).

So I'm watching it and I'm like oh look MS looks so ethereal. Born to play an angel. Look at those floofy wings.

BUT something was bugging me. Usually in most MS movies/shows he keeps out-shining, out-acting his co-stars. Just out there being the best making everyone else look flimsy. But here there was one person who is NOT looking flimsy with MS. Infact he keeps complementing him so perfectly it looks like a graceful waltz.

'Yeah so the demon guy is a great actor I guess'

But that's not why my mind is bugging me. There was something else some weird deja vu kind of familiarity.

I try to ignore it.

Two days later my sister is scrolling through her Pinterest and she goes "What's a Doctor Who?"

And I was like "It's an old childhood show I used to watch, you wouldn't know (she has never seen Doctor Who btw).... why're you asking?"

And she holds up her phone and she's like "Idk it says he's a Doctor Who?" (btw I love the way she says 'a Doctor Who')

And my mind went whoooooooosh!

It's such a strange feeling when stuff you'd forgotten, stuff that was once really special to you, but seems to be lost, and yet is only nestling in some corner of you chaotic mind waiting for the day it'll one day come into the light again, that's tuff comes whooshing back.

I grew up loving DW. Especially Ten. Well I was a tad bit pissed when Nine regenerated into DT and I was like noooooooo who's this skinny f^cker.... I don't want it. But I just fell in love with Ten. To my little lonely-kid-in-school-weirdo-nerd-wallflower self Ten was a best friend who made me feel that it's okay to be different to be geeky and childlike without being embarrassed. Ten was a secret best frined.

And when he regenerated I stopped watching the show. And I forgot about it because I was so busy adulting I lost track of everything I had cherished as a kid.

Now almost 15 years later I found out that my new favorite character (along with Aziraphale cz they're equally special to me) was played by the same person who played my childhood favorite character. And that he's also the best actor I have ever seen so I spiraled down DT hole and I am obsessed (not ashamed to say this). And guess what I found.... almost every show or movie I had watched as kid, he was there.... Ducktales, Harry Potter, Loud House, Einstein and Eddington, Mary Queen of Scots...... its endless.

And the 60th Anniversary special, well it's the most specialist thing to me. I feel like a child again.

GO and DW. Best things that ever happened to me

So thanking Neil Gaiman and Russel T. Davies and MS and DT for making my childhood better....... constantly, because it's never over..... the child lives in me constantly...... she's alive again. Thank you for keeping that child alive and helping her through the darkest nights .

Meena x

73 notes · View notes

more-cardigan-than-woman · 2 years ago

Note

Jason Todd x fem!!reader

Where the reader is going to the Wayne gala to like do a mission with one of the big guys who owns a company. So she is trying her best to get information out of him but it gets a little bit hard. So the man wants to kiss her and forcing her to just have some alone time. Jason comes to save her.

No Damsels Here.

Warnings: Swearing, Some violence, pharmacitucles is pronounced like heracles.

"So, is like... you said something about pharmacitucles? Is that just.. what does that mean?" You ask coyly, gently toying with the thin strap on your dress.

"Pharmaceuticals." Mr North corrects you, his eyes watching the delicate movement of your fingers. "We manufacture drugs," he shakes his head, "Medicine, for sick people." He says in the most condescending voice you've heard since Tim had to explain to Bruce how to delete his tweets.

"Ooo, anything fun?" You perk up, trying to sound every bit the ditsy heiress. You've found that men like Mr North, are so much more eager to tell you things when they can talk down to you about it.

"I could show you." He leans his disgustingly close to your face, "in my office."

"Is it up stairs?" You throw your hands behind your back, simultaneously pushing your tits out and signalling to Jason that your moving. You make what you assume a bashful laugh sounds like and peer over at Jason who's finishing up his drink.

"Top floor. You'll love the view of the city from there."

"Is it like fight club?"

"Oh, you've seen fight club?" Mr North asks, sliding his slimey hand around you and leading you towards the lift.

"It was great." You lie, "Brad Pitt is so handsome." You nearly puke at the thought.

"Truly a masterpiece on how masculinity has been suffocated in our generation." His fingers dig in even closer as you watch in the reflection of the glass as Jason makes his way slowly toward you.

Mr North dribbles on about how fight club is a masterpiece barely allowing you to get a word in edgewise. But when he finally stops talking you manage to squeeze in "so are these fun drugs?" You smile, "I had some of those while I was at Berkely."

"They can be very fun." He almost smiles, taking the few steps from the elevator and opening an office door, "I think you'll like them."

"Yay." You nearly die as the word leaves your lips and you watch Mr North fumble with the lock of his safe. "What ya got in there?" You try to feign interest in a statue on the opposite wall, while not so obviously trying get a peak in side

"Only these." He shakes the pill bottle, throwing it on his desk before coming up behind you. "You're very pretty you know." His arm tightens around your waist, "Such a shame," his fingers press into your cheeks, while his filthy tongue licks at your neck, "Open up."

"Let me go." You shout, piercing his shoe with your heel and making him falter.

"I didn't take you for a fighter." He sneers, wrapping his hand around your throat to tilt you head back.

"I'll fucking kill you," your breath almost as heavy as Jason's words echoing in your head.

"You don't need a gun. It's a simple mission. In and out." In and out, like fuck. You're going to kill him right after you kill this asshole.

"Bit wider," Mr North orders you, pressing your cheeks even harder.

"I can fucking see you." You glare at the looming reflection in the mirror, "the fuck are you doing?"

"I don't need help." Jason struts forward, twirling his gun on his finger, "I can do this on my own," he shoots Mr North in the leg making him fall to his knee and release you, "I'm a big girl."

"I would never," you kick Mr North in his shitty face, "call myself a big girl."

"Who the fuck are you?" Mr North spits a tooth out.

"You're not involved in this," Jason snaps at him, shooting him in his other leg, "be quiet. Wait- what happened to your neck?" He stares at the finger prints you imagine are there.

"The fuck does it matter? Where have you been?"

"Mingling." Jason rolls his eyes at your dissmissiveness.

"What-" Mr North winces when you press your heel into his bullet wound.

"Shut up now." You spit on the man before turning to Jason, "Give me my gun."

"Bossy," Jason's says, throwing your stainless steel Colt, "you going to shoot me?" He asks when you point the gun at him.

"Not today." You swerve, letting your gun off into Mr North's head, "those are the drugs there. Let's get em to babs."

"Are you sure you're ok?" He stops you, his fingers grazing along your cheekbones and brushing your hair back.

"Yes. But if you take my gun from me again," you stare up right into his eyes, "it'll be the last thing you ever see."

"No, the last thing I'd see would be you're beautiful face," his nose brushes yours, "and boy, what a way to go."

#reader x jason todd #jason todd fanfic #jason todd x reader #jason todd #x reader

248 notes · View notes