#cas fruits of life

[cinematic-phosphenes]

An explorer and a scholar

[bebs-art-gallery]

Cats Stealing Food in Paintings

Still Life with Cat (1705) by Desportes, It's no use crying over spilt milk (1880) by Frank Paton, Still Life of the Remnants of a Meal with a Lunging Cat (18th Century) by Alexandre-François Desportes, Fish Still Life with Two Cats (1781) by Martin Ferdinand Quadal, Still Life with a Cat and a Mackerel on a Table Top (18th Century) by Giovanni Rivalta, The Collared Thief (1860) by William James Webbe, Cat Stealing a String of Sausages (17th Century) by Abraham van Beyeren, Still Life with a Cat (1760) by Sebastiano Lazzari, Kitchen Still Life with Fish and Cat (ca. 1650) by Sebastian Stoskopff, An Oyster Supper (1882) by Horatio Henry Couldery, Still Life with an Ebony Chest (17th Century) by Frans Snyders, Still Life with a Cat (1724) by Alexandre-Francois Desportes, A Cat Attacking Dead Game (18th Century) by Alexandre-François Desportes, Still Life of Fresh-Water Fish with a Cat (1656) by Pieter Claesz, Still Life with Fruits and Ham with a Cat and a Parrot (18th Century) by Alexandre-Francois Desportes, A Cat Holding a Fish in Its Mouth (18th Century) by Sebastiano Lazzari, Still Life with a Cat and a Hare (18th Century) by Desportes, Still Life with Cat and Rayfish (1728) by Jean-Siméon Chardin, A Cat with Dead Game (1711) by Alexandre-Francois Desportes, Still Life with Cat and Fish (1728) by Jean Baptiste Siméon Chardin

Via James Lucas on X/Twitter

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Jan van Huysum (Dutch, 1682-1749) Still Life with Flowers and Fruit, ca.1720

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Whiskey on the Tongue

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You are the forbidden fruit Dean had always wanted to taste, and when you steal his whiskey the way you do, he is powerless to resist.

Words: 2.2k

A/N: This is my first ever Supernatural fic after having started watching the show just before Christmas. I know I'm late to the game but is it ever really too late to start loving a fandom? I've tried to make the reader generic in every way other than being cis-female, and Dean finding her hot.

It's been an absolute age since I wrote anything and probably longer since I posted anything here on Tumblr but I'm getting back into it now. Hopefully this finds its way to people in the Supernatural fandom who love a bit of Dean smut.

I hope you enjoy and, as always, I value your comments and feedback.

Warnings: Smut, explicit smut, alcohol consumption, mentions of people who have passed away, profanity as standard with pretty much everything I write.

*** Minors do not read or interact - 18+ content ***

Dean let his head fall back against the headboard, clenching his fists to try to distract himself from the deep ache in his left leg.  It had been falling asleep for well over an hour now, but he didn’t want to move and disturb you.

The door to his room in the bunker was closed.  Locked, in fact, though he did not remember doing it.  You didn’t comment or so much as move when Sam brayed on the door and tried the handle, calling out for Dean to return his book.  The very book that was in your hands right now.

“I need that book back, Dean.”  Sam grumbled.

“Not now, Sammy!”  Dean called back, hoping his little brother would just go away.

“I���m researching Nephilim to help Cas with the Kelly situation, Dean.  It’s important.”  Sam became more insistent.

“I said NOT NOW, SAM!”  Dean hollered with a kind of finality that even Sam wouldn’t argue with.

Outside the door, Sam huffed and stalked away.  Dean looked down to see you looking up at him from your position, lay on his bed.  Your head was resting on his left calf, his leg bent with his foot tucked under his right knee.  You had your knees up with your foot tapping along to his banging playlist, your jeans tight around your thighs and with your head tilted back he could see all the way down the deep V of your t-shirt.

He was going to hell.  Straight there.  Do not pass go.  Do not collect two hundred dollars.  And he probably deserved it.

He snapped his eyes up towards the ceiling but it was too late, he could feel himself stirring uncomfortably in his jeans.  If Bobby was alive he would have skinned him raw just for having you in his room.  Bobby was always protective of you, his niece.  You were only a couple of years younger than Sam but Bobby had made himself very clear that you were off limits.

“If you touch one single hair on her body, I’ll make you regret the day your balls dropped.  Do you hear me, boy?”

Bobby Singer.  That man did not mince his words.  And to this day, Dean had taken that threat as gospel.  Even now that Bobby was up there with the Angels, that son of a bitch would find a way to keep his word.

You shifted, causing a painful twang to shoot up his leg.  The reflexive grunt he failed to stifle made you look back up at him, giving him that glorious view again.

Dean decided he could die like this.  If having a dead leg was a legitimate threat to his life, he would go out happy with the view of your rack in that lacy black bra he could see within the V-shaped window of that too-tight t-shirt.

He raised his eyes, once again to heaven, asking Bobby to forgive him or give him strength or something because – god help him – he wanted to take you right then and there.

It wasn’t unusual for you to seek him out after a case when you didn’t want to be alone, but you didn’t want to talk.  You would just sit while he drank, reading or working on spells.  You said he quieted the noise in your head.  Hell, he wasn’t going to argue, you were a sight for sore eyes every time he came home.  You were wicked hot and sexy in a non-slutty way.  Not that slutty was bad.  Dean liked slutty.  But that wasn’t you, you were different.

A drink.  That’s what was missing.  Dean needed a damn drink, especially if you were going to torture him by laying on him all evening.

He reached over to his bedside unit, for the bottle he kept in there for special occasions.  A bottle of twenty-five-year-old Speyside single malt that he liberated from the British Men of Letters on his last interaction with Ketch.

The pour made you stir again but it wasn’t until he raised the cut crystal tumbler to his lips did you move.  Your hand came up and claimed the glass from underneath, twisting it as you sat up so as not to spill any.

“Where’s yours?”

The cheeky glint in your eye had him pursing his lips in mild annoyance.

“Don’t pout.”  You lifted the glass, turning it until the mark left by his lips touched yours and you sipped, looking him straight in the eye.

Dean’s jaw went slack.  The glisten of the whiskey on your lips and the satisfied hum you made when you swallowed – he swallowed unconsciously when you did – made his mouth go dry.  He had never seen you like this.

You moved to kneel on the bed and walked your way slowly closer, giving his leg a tap; an instruction to move it aside.  He did, causing pins and needles to infest his nerves like ants swarming on a log to escape a flood.

Knelt between his spread legs, you brought the glass to your lips again, sipping at the amber liquid.  You leaned in.

Dean watched you, breathing shallow, attention rapt.  You hadn’t so much as touched him, yet every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire in the best possible way.  The closer you got the shallower he breathed until he was almost holding his breath, looking down his nose at how close your lips were.  His eyelashes looked to flutter against his cheeks just as yours did when you brushed your whiskey dappled lips against his.

He refused to lick where you had been.  He couldn’t.  As soon as he tasted, he would pounce, and…

“Don’t.”  He croaked out when you moved to lay your lips on him once more.

You looked confused but at least you didn’t look hurt.  He couldn’t bear it if you looked hurt because of him.

“Bobby…”  Was all he could say through his constricting throat.

You smiled then, full of amusement, lips brushing against his, you whispered “he’ll understand.”

Dean tried not to respond to you but you coaxed his lips apart and teased your tongue to meet his, short circuiting his brain.  The taste of the scotch and the sweetness of your mouth made him groan.  He had fantasised about having you for years, but never did he think it would be you seducing him.

His hands on your hips guided you roughly to straddle him, the bulge in his jeans pushing up against you as you settled.  He took the glass from your hands and downed the contents, his eyes on yours as he dropped the glass carelessly on the bedside unit.

Your lips met his again but this time you devoured each other, tongues stroking together, moans stifled by each other’s mouths.  He trailed his hands up your body, dragging your t-shirt along with them.  Finally, he could see what he had been having glimpses of this whole evening.  Plush breasts cupped in scant lace that was completely impractical for a hunt, Dean realised, like you had meant to come here like this.  You had intended this from the beginning.

He tore at the lace, dragging it under your breasts to free them, shoulder straps slipped down.  Pawing at them like he had never touched a tittie before, all he wanted to do was suck and nip and nibble.

Your breathy sigh was divine, and the moan that followed was filthy.  You cupped the back of his head as he took your nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, pressing him further, asking for more.

While he worked on your breasts you undid his belt and fly, reaching into the front of his shorts to release him from the awkward angle at which he was trapped.  You stroked him, firm but slow, feeling him for the first time.  You had always wondered what he had going on down there that every woman he had ever been with would come back for more at the drop of a hat.  You weren’t disappointed.

Dean lifted his hips, you thought to allow you to push his jeans down but instead he flipped you, making you squeal.  Once under him, he ravished your breasts anew, pinching one nipple hard while licking and sucking the other.  Soon you were a mewling mess, hips writhing, begging for something he hadn’t given you yet.  Excited that he had taken control away from you, you watched him sit up and yank your jeans down, lifting your legs until they were bare.  Your knickers followed and he spread your legs without preamble, lowering himself between your thighs until his hair and eyes were all you could see above your mound.

“Jesus Christ of Nazareth!”

You groaned as he suckled against your sensitive spot.  Fuck, he was good with his tongue.  Everything about him was good except his image.  Bad boy Dean Winchester.  He was every woman’s wet dream.  He had been your wet dream since you were seventeen.  But now you were plenty old enough and finally getting what you wanted.

Bobby had told you to stay away from him when you were a kid.  Dean had a reputation as a ladies man even then, but he respected your uncle Bobby enough to keep his distance… until now.

Dean dipped two fingers inside, creating pressure in exactly the right spot.  You gasped and gripped his hair as your pleasure began to crest, tugging on it for dear life.  He looked up at you then, to see your eyes closed against the intensity of it, neck and face flushed red with your oncoming orgasm.  When it came, the pulsing of your core was his sign to slow down.  He left off his suckling and stroked you through the pleasure, watching you all the while.  You were a beautiful mess.

“That’s my girl.”  He praised you in that deep rough tone you adored, helping prolong your climax until you took his hand away yourself.  “Are you ready for me?”

You nodded, allowing him to lift your knees up and stroke the weeping tip of his cock over your swollen clit.

From the front pocket of the jeans he still wore, he pulled a foil packet with Trojan embossed on it.  He was swift with its application, aiming his tip just so.

When he slid home, your eyes rolled back and you reached to grip his forearms.  It was something Dean would never get tired of seeing but it felt that much different with you.  You were the forbidden thing he had always wanted but could never have.  Even now he didn’t know whether he would come to regret this.  God, he hoped not.

Balls deep in you, he leaned forward to kiss you, wrapping your legs around his hips.  His instinct was to fold you in half and pound the living shit out of you, but you were already overwhelmed and he wanted to make this soft for you.

“Tell me what you need.”  He spoke softly as he nuzzled your neck.

“Just you, like this.”  You sighed.  Who knew Dean Winchester was a considerate lover.

His slow, measured thrusts brought you closer to the edge, your core fluttering each time, he could feel it.  It surprised him how quickly is climax built at this pace, but the added connection you both shared seemed to turn him on.  He would never give up Busty Asian Babe porn but he could get used to this with you.

You didn’t close your eyes against the pleasure this time, you watched him come undone above you, gasping as his orgasm made his legs and arms shake, muscles clenched tight to keep his weight from collapsing on you.  When he swelled you dug your fingers into his hips to pull him deeper with each stroke, and when he spilled you also came, eyes fluttering shut finally.

Dean knelt up, slipping the rubber off as soon as he was clear of you and, tying a knot in the end, tossed it in the direction of the trash can.

“Shot.”  You said with a smile as the sticky bundle went straight in the can.

He quirked and eyebrow and give you a slightly smug lopsided smirk that said:  What can I say?  I don’t miss.

When you moved to sit, he stopped you.

“Here, lemme get that.”

“Thanks.”

He stripped his t-shirt off and used it to clean up the wetness between your legs.  Though none of it was his, it would still dribble when you moved.  Afterwards he tucked it under your ass and flopped down on the bed at your side, moving his arm behind your head so you could rest it on his chest.  You were both content.  Both had goofy grins on your faces.  Both disbelieving that you had finally gotten what you wanted.

A loud knock at the door started you.

“Are you done?”  Sam said.  “I need that book.”

“NO!”  You and Dean shouted back in unison, laughing afterwards.

“Bobby’s gonna kill you.”  Sam called back through the door.

“I KNOW!”  Dean yelled gruffly, pulling you closer.

There might be a time in the future where the ghost of Bobby Singer came to make him regret the day his balls dropped and, if it happened, Dean would be happy to see him again.  In the meantime, you and he could work on a whole bunch of reasons to make the cranky old bastard come down from up high for a visit.

Dean pulled the sheets over both of your heads, nibbling at your neck until you moaned his name.  Aside from the roar of Baby’s engine, he had found his new favourite sound.

[beiasluv]

forbidden fruit | Charles Leclerc

a/n: new to the f1 communityy 😬 apologies for any term or idea i got wrong. female!reader. no proofread! enjoyy 🤍

summary: the princess of mercedes and the prince of ferrari, what could possibly go wrong?

“y/n! y/n! she’s in her last turn! leclerc’s trailing behind! can he do an over take?”

splashing champagnes and listening to the dutch national anthem were never your favorite of winning a podium, but who cares?

you were on P3 and charles leclerc was not.

perhaps retelling the story of your rivalry with the monégasque driver would take a whole frustrating, aggravating, and lengthy year for us to get through; and perhaps it was for the best to leave it where it is, never to be touched, but to reminisce with a needle of cringeness poking through your heart.

although an honorable mention to verstappen, for taking the lead role of leclerc’s personal favorite rival.

it was all an inchident, of course.

smirking back to the driver in a flashing, scuderia ferrari, red fire suit, you could only feel your ego bubbling to the top of your throat. charles leclerc was staring. and staring hard. what a shame you couldn’t even take out your phone and take a snippet of his raging glance. what a fun sight for the whole news headlines to see.

‘charles leclerc, envy and jealousy…’

of course, he couldn’t lash it out. how could he? would the handsome, young, and talented ferrari driver want to ruin his reputation in the media? obviously, not.

of course, you knew it all too well. every day you wake up with the tip of a knife, aiming at your throat, ready to nick you anytime you take a wrong step on the luxurious path of an f1 driver. being the only female driver on the grid makes your life a thousand times more challenging.

but who were you to be a nitpick?

the media loves drama. we all do. perhaps it was a little bit more entertaining to see what you are wearing when the races had gone wrong. what hairstyle were you wearing for the big race? or, maybe, just which driver you were dating on the grid this season?

never once you could escape the dating questions or all the bullshit misogynistic attitudes from the journalists, press, media, and, well, …you name it.

perhaps you have to give it to leclerc for never going easy on you just because you are of a different gender.

“congratulations on P3, y/n,” max turned towards you and gave you a pat on the shoulder; simultaneously, bringing you back to reality.

“t- thanks.”

—

“you win this one, l/n.”

he took off his helmet, and clutched it loosely to his side. the cheeky smirk plastered on his face. the eyes searched for the depth of yours.

only you knew how much pain it was for him to force his lips to create such a soft and fake smile for the thousand camera lenses, waiting to catch the two rivals lacking. bumping into leclerc after the race, fresh and full of adrenaline, alone in the hallway of the track was never an enjoyable experience to endure.

“good race, leclerc,” you muttered out as many PR and drivers walked past you two.

“same to you.”

what a shame your PR manager ushered you out for the media room before you two could give a shot of throwing hands - elegantly, of course.

—

“good work on the qualifying round, l/n. return to the garage. over.”

“copy that,” you tapped your headset, notifying the engineer of the prestigious mercedes team.

driving for mercedes in f1 could count as your biggest dream since the karting days. and the race won against ferrari was a - personal - success.

slowing your baby down, and pressing the brake mechanism of the car, you came to a halt as the friction overpowered the tires. one or two seconds later, you could hear the mercedes team rushing and scurrying over to your parked position to collect you back to the mothership.

“take her back, guys!”

the screaming of your fans nearby erupted as you ascended out from the cramped space of your f1 seat. taking your helmet off, and waving to them; you gracefully jumped down from the car and headed towards the mercedes headquarters.

a long walk, but who are you to make a fuss?

an f1 driver should have no problem walking a couple of miles. oh but how annoyingly a group of fans quickly crowded over you and blocked your ways…red flags, horses, and charles leclerc faces. clearly, you knew whose fans they were.

fussing, grabbing, and pulling, you were harassed, unfortunately. autographs, hats, pictures, postcards, and questionable stuff were pushed into your face.

“y/n! please! sign my shirt!” “get the hell away from charles!”

“charles deserved p3 today!” “l/n!! l/n! say hi to my dad! he loves you!”

trying to fulfill all of their requirements, you realized you had found yourself in the sea of scuderia ferrari fans. it is an unspoken fact that you were the rival of charles leclerc; you could say some fans were more enthralled by that fact than others.

“y/n! what do you think about charles? are you guys dating?”

sometimes you hate technology. the cameras pointing at you reminded me of the knife you carry mentally with you every day. it could gain you thousands of thousands of likes in a few tiktoks or perhaps get ready to say goodbye to your f1 position.

“…we’re not talking. in any complicate way,” smiling through the pain you signed the cap that was shoved into your face. gosh, mercedes. where was your security?

your patience could only last so much until one fan decided it was worth it to grab your hand and pull you down for an instagram-worthy photo. and he possibly thought the best way to execute it was to, firstly, seize your waist. how thoughtful of him.

“fuc- please don’t-”

“y/n! i love you!”

man-child was not having it. sweaty and clammy hands could send chills down your spine if you didn’t know.

“please-”

smile through the pain. smile through the pain. it was all part of the job, at the end of the day. the fans still won and you were just a doll for f1. breathe in, breathe out.

he pulled his iphone 7 out of his pocket, painfully slow; slower than the ferrari’s pitstops. his side was squished to yours. the cologne, the smell, the sensory, everything-

“hey, hands off.”

you could say it was the first time you were glad to see charles leclerc from your entire life; wearing his race suit sluttily around his waist. leclerc - being leclerc - stunned his fans, leaving a big hole in the crowd around you.

he was reaching out for your waist; surprisingly, in a way you were pleased, and pulled you out of the red crowd. and just like magic, the security came rushing in and ushered the mob of fans away from the scene.

wearing that stunned face of yours, you regained consciousness and your rival emotions. clearing your already cleared throat, charles took it as a signal to let go of your waist. how suddenly you realized it was all happening over the armor of your fire suit.

thank god.

“..thanks”

“no need to thank me,” the competitive tone made its way through his annoying lips again. scoffing, he looked at you with his hand clutching his helmet by his side, “i don’t understand why they need to adore you this much.”

how rude.

“for the record, they are your fans, leclerc,” you scoffed offendedly, and your hand found its natural place on your chest; clutching for dramatic effect.

“what did i do to deserve such loyal fans, l/n…” not even looking at you he smirked under his nose. “they shouldn’t be acting this way, no?”

he looked over at you, seeing you in your distressed state and a chuckle left his lips. the cameras settled on the stands far away in the distance and stared at you two, they were definitely on.

shit.

this is going to end up in the headlines.

—

“check out your new title…” your manager cleared his throat as you nervously waited.

“you can’t just leave me hanging here!”

placing your phone in your lap your hands returned to the comfort of the steering wheel. twisting and turning, you maneuvered your mercedes inside the driver's garage.

“calm the fuck down! i’m pulling out the source for accuracy,” you swore you could see your manager rolling his eyes. “wait for it…‘charles to the rescue. mercedes and ferrari, love or rivalry?’”

“shut up.”

“i can send you the links.”

“please don’t,” you sighed as you looked over your shoulder to slide into the parking lot like a distinguished f1 driver. “…the devil works hard, but the media works harder, or what?”

“we could use a little PR for mercedes, y’know?” the crackled chuckle left your phone.

please.

“the signal is shit in the parking lot, i’ll see you at the paddock. bye.”

“alright, be quick.”

gathering your bag and phone, you checked your face one last time in the rearview mirror and opened the car door. unfortunately, the infamous ferrari entered the parking lot with its signature roars, as you stepped out of your car.

the devil had worked hard once again. walking to your trunk, you kicked it open and snatched some of your essential stuff for the race. and who would’ve thought charles leclerc could park his car in under 20 seconds?

not to mention, it wasn’t straight. (oops)

getting out of his car, he checked his hair and fixed his shirt. obviously, aware of the paparazzi lurking around the track’s garage for the big day, and hoping to sell a couple of pics for something a little more than a couple of bucks. perhaps an even better price for them if they caught you and your rival having a ‘friendly’ chat.

don’t get close to him. don’t get close to him.

“what a coincidence,” leclerc approached your mercedes as he locked his ferrari with its infamous beeping.

“how so?”

smirking back at him, you slammed your trunk closed and shut off; locking your car in the same manner. catching the glimpse of his eyes you made it your personal goal to escape him as fast as you could possibly can.

flicking your head away and taking off, the path inside the track was as empty as you hoped it could be.

“slow down, i just wanna talk.”

“leclerc.”

“you walk too fast,” you swore if you looked back and he is grinning. “you trying to escape from me?”

fuck.

“got a problem with that, leclerc?”

his dark green eyes met yours after you decided the risk was below the ‘manageable’ level to turn around.

“no,” he grinned at you. how you wish you could smack it off of his face. “i jus’ want some company while walking to the track, no?”

company, my ass.

clearing his throat, he looked at you, “you’re a pretty good rival though.”

gaining a nod and a smirk from you leclerc was cut short of his run time as his PR manager came to collect him to the ferrari garage. how sad. his messy hair, the confidential wave, and two eyes met yours one last time before you decided to head to the mothership of your mercedes headquarters.

big trouble, y/n. big trouble.

—

“y/n, we neeed to talk.”

the paddock was usually quiet upstairs, all the mechanics and engineers spent their time in garage down below. only toto, george, lewis, your manager, and their managers, and - obviously - you would spend time up here. also. is every private manager in the world annoyingly scary and friendly at the same time or what?

sitting down next to you on the black sofa of the mercedes headquarters by the pitch, you were face-to-face with your lovely manager.

clearing your nonexistent anxiety, “…yes?”

“look…the media is starting to notice your relationship with charles…”

“and..?”

“and,” he crossed his arms, “we need to work on keeping this situation private…it could affect your reputation. maybe after the soft launch phase is over, you can publicize it…if you want to, obviously.”

the fuck?

“…what are your thoughts?”

he looked into your face, not a single thought behind it. somehow the racetrack outside the notoriously big, shiny window of the mercedes paddock suddenly gained your attention, and he restored to snapping his fingers in front of your face.

“what-? oh right- for fuck’s sake! we’re not in a relationship!”

“and what about those paparazzis’ pictures? I thought we agreed on sharing every ‘public’ detail about your life with me?”

“first of all, privacy. second of all. you believe that?! anthony! you’re my manager, i would’ve told you if i was dating a ferrari driver!” grabbing a quick breath,

“do you think i want to date the reddest of all flags on the grid?!”

“yeah? but that’s not the impression the media got,” he said. “even max! max verstappen thought-”

“who cares what max thinks!” you thrown your head back on the sofa.

“PR could be good, but we don’t know if it’s going to blacklash-”

george russell. he walked up to you two arguing on the black sofa and smirked at you; clearly, he heard your talks about ‘the reddest of all flags on the grid.’

“shut your mouth, russell,” sighing sarcastically as you could and you turned to your manager, who was having the time of his life.

“I’m not saying anything,” he raised his hands defensively, grinning the shit out of the corners of his mouth.

“I’m a driver, not a play doll you could match-make for the team’s reputation. hell. doesn’t charles have a girlfriend?”

anthony pulled out his phone and scrolled through ‘something,’ “yes…charles…has a girlfriend, PR relationship?”

“what do you mean?”

putting his phone away, “doesn’t matter. but what the media care about is to get a story out of nothing.”

“…and?”

“you have a reputation of being a private figure, and you're an expert in keeping it that way. we just need to do that until the end of the season.”

george chuckled sarcastically, "she seems angry at us, guys.”

“i am. and i’m not dating anyone for mercedes. done,” you stood up from the sofa and beelined towards the door. “also. i’m telling toto.”

and someone finally heard you this time. the whole room’s atmosphere seemed to tense up as someone entered the door.

toto wolff.

“is there a problem, y/n?” toto asked as george smirked at the unfolding situation.

you swung your head towards the origin of the sound and cleared your throat, “your employee, mr. wolff, is trying to matchmake me with a ferrari driver.”

toto chuckled.

toto chuckled?

“so there is something between you and charles?” he raised his eyebrow at you. expectedly, george was holding his laughter in for his dear life.

“why does everyone thinks that we’re dating?! even toto?!”

“so you’re not dating leclerc?”

“no!”

congratulations. you have successfully crashed onto the sofa once again, groaning your pain out.

“she’s lying,” george chimed in.

“I. am. not.”

how surprising that george’s back kissed the sofa as you tackled him jokingly down. a moment of silence for toto to watch many of his best drivers tackle each other like it’s a normal day in kindergarten.

“are you sure you are not dating, leclerc?”

last straw. you clutched your bag and left george dysfunctional on the couch. walking past the room, you glanced back one last time and said with the best sarcasm, “i’m not. and I’m not dating him for mercedes. done! I’m a driver, not a doll!”

slamming the door shut, you headed for your private driver’s room.

"she's angry at us…” george chuckles nervously; obviously, with a hint of joy.

“no shit sherlock”

—

edit: part 2

part 2?? reblog, like, whatever the heck you want would be appreciated 😘

today’s a great day to take care of yourself, lots of luv 🤍

[taylorswiftstyle]

2024 Golden Globe Awards | Los Angeles, CA | January 7, 2024

Gucci gown

Let it be known my Roman Empire is painted a shade of aurora borealis green. 

I’m biased. I love it. You’re buckling up for a rave. But everyone knew that, right? 

I want it on record that no one should be surprised when they see this lewk on the TSS Favourite Outfits of 2024 list. And that I’ll devise some maniacal strategy to make it make sense to include in every annual list from here to eternity.

Let's get the obvious out of the way in that this shade of green could easily be interpreted as very snakelike and thus a nod to reputation and its forthcoming re-recorded version. I'd even happily apply it to the teal-y and springlike green of debut if we want to go debutation on this.

But if we are to talk about Gucci we have to talk about the precipice the house is upon right now. As it relates to Taylor, I suspect her dress (specific shade TBD - Chartreuse? Apple? Pear? Some other adjacent fruit that’s a feast for my eyes?) is a preview of Fall 2024 and a clear indicator of the path the new creative director Sabato De Sarno’s will take the brand in. Which is to say, muting the eccentricity of Alessandro Michele’s era of Gucci that brought the brand to a new level of renown in favour of something cleaner and sexier. Nicole Phelps for Vogue already noted that De Sarno’s first collection for Gucci — Spring 2024’s Ancora, meaning ‘again’ in English and released in September — evokes a Gucci when Tom Ford was once at the helm, praising De Sarno’s approach to “the upfront sex appeal of those ’60s-by-way-of-the-’90s shapes, and straight riffs on Ford hits” while “establish[ing De Sarno’s] essentials, focusing on cut and proportion, and repeating shapes for emphasis.”

Indeed, Taylor’s gown is directly reminiscent of a Fall 2004 look from Ford’s Gucci - all green sparkles and sexy disco energy. This makes sense when we consider De Sarno’s history and homeworking when he decided to take the creative director post. He told WWD, “Gucci to me equals luxury … the first fashion piece I ever owned was a Gucci jacket by Tom Ford. I still remember I traveled to Rome to buy it with my friend … luxury was really not part of our world. Television was the only way to see fashion for me back then.” He added, “My ambition is to build an aesthetic message with an edited collection that is mindful of Gucci’s heritage and close to my own aesthetics.”

When we consider my personal history with Taylor and Gucci, I don’t have to look very far to immediately picture one of my all time favourite Taylor looks — the 2014 Grammys when she wore a sparkling Gucci Première column gown which is not too dissimilar to this one. What can I say, I’m consistent. The shape, the perfect kiss-the-floor hemming, and obviously the divine colour that really pops on Taylor will have me swooning for a long time. 

At the end of it all, what I come back to is De Sarno’s sentimentality to naming his first collection: Ancora. Again. He told WWD, “Ancora is a word that you use when your desire is not over yet … I want to fall in love with fashion all over again — ancora.” In the same interview he said, “I like words a lot, they have weight and a precise meaning, they convey emotions, so I like artists who use words.” 

It dawns on me that Taylor’s light is shining at its brightest now as she highlights, celebrates, and - indeed - falls in love with all the versions of herself she has ever been. Revisiting her eras past again. And again. In every re-record. In every step she takes on stage. In every cutting line she writes in ruminating and revisiting the experiences of her life and translating them into song. She’s flitting, flirting, memorializing all her past selves in celebration of their summation of her current self. And that’s what this ‘era of eras’ has been. 

So if this is De Sarno’s Gucci I say welcome. Ancora. 

Photos by Monica Schipper/GA and Amy Sussman via Getty Images

[evilminji]

A Moral Dilemma! Question!

Let's say there is a trucker. An average man. Kind enough, did okay in school, loves his wife and misses her like you wouldn't believe every time he has to go. Misses his little girl even more. HATES he's missing the early years of her life. First day to school, getting her up and brushing her hair into pigtails, making pancakes like his Pa used to make. The works.

But the economy is shit. Him and his wife have to work. Make ends meet. They're DESPERATE to get out of Gotham. Move somewhere boring. Safe.

But... well, places like that cost money. Kids cost money. And he did OKAY in school. Not a lot of jobs out there for "Okay" guys from Gotham.

His cousin finds him a route though. A solid job. Really pulled through when push came to shove and things were looking bad. Like he might have to take up that offer to Goon. Now he's a trucker.

And his route? Well the half way point is Amity Park. He stops to stay the night every time. Never really STAYS, has heard they got themselves a Cape and such, but? It is what it is. He's from Gotham. He minds his business. Parks on the outskirts of town to avoid getting hit.

Doesn't realize, he's getting SOAKED in Ectoplasm every time he's in town.

And this trucker? Not the healthiest man. He wishes he could be. But life on the road is not exactly conducive to fresh fruit and leafy greens. He eats more grease and sugar then his doctor would EVER recommend. In fact, has specifically warned him not too.

But some days you just need a warm meal. You miss your kid, your wife, your bed. And you know it'll be days before you can see any of them. But at least there is pancakes.

You can pretend you're eating with your family. Or at least, let the coffee be warm enough for the two of you. God, but the poor man is tired.

And as he gets close to Gotham?

Breaking News!

The Joker. AGAIN. The trucker cringes, horror filling him. What poor soul has that mad man hurt NOW? When will it end? Him and his wife are so close to getting the hell out. Thinking Kansas. His wife has been joking about pie baking competit-

No.

Oh God No.

There, on the screen, tears streaming down her beautiful face? Is the love of his life. His best friend. His EVERYTHING. And in her arms, trying so, so hard to be quiet. To muffle her terror born sobs... is his little girl. One pigtail torn from its srunchie, blood on her tiny face.

The trucker knows how this story ends.

Batman will try. He ALWAYS tries. And sometimes... sometimes that's enough. But he knows the odds here. His family are in front. Stars of this sick show. The trucker can't breathe. His heart is pounding, too hard for a man of his health.

He's not young. Should be on blood pressure meds he simply cant afford. Is panicked by a terror few should ever suffer. And? What runs in his family, strikes true. It feels so far away, the pain in his chest. He... No, he can't.

He can't.

His family.

He can't die. Leave them. They're in danger! They can't die like this. So close to freedom. Happiness. They... the..y.. ca..n..t...

.

.

THEY WON'T. HE REFUSES.

~~~

So! Here in comes the QUESTION! As you sit, watching this terrified child call for her father, ripped from her begging mothers arms, you see a green opaque man full body tackle the Joker.

You watch his eyes visible glow and change color, fight a visible STRUGGLE, like jeckle and Hyde, for control of his body. Between the monster known as Joker and what seems to be? The little girl's newly Meta father.

The Father wins.

You watch the Bat arrive with the police. Thank the man and say he can release Joker into custody. See the EXACT moment the Meta realizes something. Turns to look at his daughter, then his wife. Looks back at the commissioner.

Says "No".

Is he right to do this? To Possess the Joker, as a life sentence, to insure the safety of others? He is perfectly will to sit that life in a jail cell. Knows he will never be allowed to roam free again. But! The Joker is contained.

Is this Right? Or merely emotionally satisfying?

Discuss :3

@hypewinter @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @nerdpoe

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ You’re the one who brought the dawn to my eternal nights. ❞

Ω!reader x α!jeong-hyun | omegaverse AU, fluff, NSFW | sub. bttm. reader (AFAB) | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 4k

warnings: graphic description of violence, mentions/descriptions of CA (physical, mental, emotional), mentions of dog attacks, guns, power imbalance, yandere tendencies, mentions of drugs, stalking, mentions of torture

masterlist: how you met (mob yanderes) : pt. 1 (K.JH)

authors note: @xuxitheii come get your meal "...(Y/N) could be a performer/singer at a gentleman's club..." *song on repeat: Gangsta by Kehlani (spec. the flashback version)

* YN is described as wearing more fem. clothing as he performs

He doesn't understand why he is the way he is. If Jeong-Hyun could voice his thoughts in a more concise manner, he would tell others that though the life he leads, with death awaiting at every corner, was perfect for him — he wishes he could do anything else other than this.

That, although, he is a violent man he only ever uses it as a necessity; a reaction, a defense.

A dog does not bite for no reason.

But he is not a dog.

He is a man.

Seo-Yun tells him this with such a kind smile, his heart hammers out of his chest each time she does. Jeong-Hyun doesn't understand why it does that.

When he was a child, he'd been thrown into the dog fighting rings as the opener. The new top dog would snarl at him, foam at the mouth as it barked while he cowered into a corner that did not exist. The men and women who cheered from above him, around him, disorientating as his pumping veins all but thundered with each beat of his heart.

The lights, the announcer yelling into the microphone, the beer cans thrown into the ring to push him out into the centre — and if that didn't work, the electric cow prods they'd jab at him from every side until he leapt into the rabid dogs maw.

That would get his heart racing the same way.

That visceral fear. It was a familiar emotion for Jeong-Hyun. Fear was a friend, a constant, the tremors in his hands, the clenching of his jaws, the scars on the insides of his cheeks.

Seo-Yun's kindness brings him fear and he does not understand but he cannot say this out loud.

Why? He doesn't know.

But when fear is not a constant, other emotions tentatively make way to the top. These, comes with wants rather than needs. Jeong-Hyun finds himself wanting things outside of needing to survive a fight, or of stomaching down the gruel he was given once a week.

Now that he can breathe, he can want and Jeong-Hyun is floored by this.

Seo-Yun provides whatever he wishes. A landed house with an open concept interior, soft clothes for when he is home, things he'd need for the pack of strays he adopted. When he is hurt, she hires the best doctors who stick needles into his inner elbows and with each lazy drop of the thick liquid it makes Jeong-Hyun’s nerves cool into beautiful numbness.

The money he gets doesn’t exactly hinder his wanting either. He can simply flash some of the notes and suddenly everyone bends over backwards.

Everything seems more feasible and within his grasp. His dream of simply surviving now a mishappen...blob.

A blob that has no shape. No colour. No ideals. No goals. He simply fulfils his sister's wishes because he loves her and can clearly see her dream in its vivid colours.

Then, as if the world had finally listened to his incomprehensible thoughts, you came into his life.

It was night time  — most of Jeong-Hyun's activities is when the sky is dark  — and he'd been accompanying his sister in her discussions with some drug lord.

Swaying favours, swapping fielty, trading a few secrets and cash for more access.

The usual business.

Jeong-Hyun hated the entrance of it. The narrow pathway between two buildings, climbing down the stairs into an even tighter foyer, before being let in. Even then, the tightness does not dissipate.

This gentleman's club — with it's heavy red drapery along the walls that reek of cigar and artificial fruit flavoured smoke — and the yellow and dim lighting that was meant to be moody...

He saw it as nothing more than headache inducing nuisances.

Secrecy was a must considering what goes on beyond these doors.

Gambling, prostitution, drugs, money laundering — the whole nine yards.

But fuck, couldn't they afford a bigger spot?

Seo-Yun glanced his way, then to his curled fingers and white knuckles. They meet their gazes. He offers a grimace, his left eye twitching just slightly, and shakes his head. Being uncomfortable was the norm for him before Seo-Yun. He can perserver. There was nothing here that he wasn’t used to.

The girls here knew better than to lay hands on him.

Or perhaps they were too frightened with how intimidating he was. With his broad shoulders and imposing height, his good eye shining in the low light; he wasn’t shy about flooding his space with his scent either.

Jeong-Hyun didn’t give a shit if it was unseemly or ungentlemanly. If it got the message across that he wasn’t someone you shoved around — he didn’t care if it made noses curl or cheeks turn red.

The girls, however, crowded his sister.

Her scent was more muted despite the core of it being alpha-like. A musk that all alpha’s equally shared as a base note. She grinned, using her tall frame to make them coo as they hung onto her arms.

She’d always been so nice to the whores. Jeong-Hyun rolled his eyes, air escaping through his nose as Seo-Yun tucked some hair behind one of their ears, purposefully ghosting her wrist along their jaw. Their brain basically exploded, pupils growing so wide it made Jeong-Hyun think of a rat’s shimmering eyeballs.

Seo-Yun gives them a lipless, yet coy, curl of her lips. No teeth in sight, demure in their presence. It helps that they're familiar with her cues. Afterall, this was not their first time visiting this establishment.

But tonight was different. Because, once again, this was the night everything changed for him.

They were seated in the VIP area, tucked in a cove to ensure privacy whilst still having a clear unblocked view of the stage. The curtains lifted just as they sat down, Jeong-Hyun spreading his legs as a clear sign of impoliteness. His gun holster peeks from his leather jacket.

There’s the strum of a bass guitar. The echoing twang making him unclench his jaw as he turns his head to face the stage.

You were a sight he’d never seen, and he’d seen plenty.

Gaping bullet holes. Guts spilling with billowing steam as insides meet the outside. Ears and fingers torn apart. Heads splattered open on the concrete. Brain matter swirling down the concrete of a butcher shop.

All that horror dissipates into smoke.

You were dressed like an angel. An angel for gangsters like himself, anyways. No snowy white wings and cherub rosy-dusted cheeks and tight blonde curls.

Instead, you had elbow-high gloves that were beaded with pearls around the seam. The flesh of your thigh has a tantalizing shimmery hue of your skin tone, twinkling faintly as you swayed your hips and shimmied your fur-covered shoulders.

Did you know you pout every time you sing into the microphone? Nothing majorly obvious, but he was enchanted by the colour of your gloss and how soft your lips looked.

He noticed.

He remembers hearing your voice lift every time you smile as you sing. How adorable the crease between your eyebrows was as you crooned to the audience.

When you started to walk off the stage, he had to stop himself from snarling as the alphas in the crowd began cheering and whooping. Seo-Yun’s hand on his nape makes him damn near short circuit.

She’s staring at him with her brows furrowed. It’s his scent. That sharp, spicy, scent of a displeased alpha — he’d been seething so much the girls were cowering next to his sister.

Jeong-Hyun was an uncaring asshole but not a heartless one. He offers a grimace as an apology, uncurling his fists and turning his head around again only to be met with the sight of your gloved hand.

You’re singing. He can lip-read you from how close you are, and he can feel how warm you actually are — from the stage lights most likely. But most importantly, Jeong-Hyun can smell you.

That haunting smell of rare flowers blooming under the moonlight, hidden in their own utopia away from mankind. You smile at him, sweet and coy and insincere. This was just a transaction to you after all.

He brings his knees closer together, the bump of his throat bobs. You rest your hand on the collar of his jacket, leaning down and whispering the lyrics the song into his ear/microphone.

You're new to this place.

None of the other 'entertainers' dared to place hands on Jeong-Hyun. He wasn't fond of strangers invading his space, despised it really, and he had no problems letting it show. Yet, as though under a spell, he does nothing as you brush a hand to his chest.

Your voice echoing sin, your breath causing his mishappen ear to redden as his sullen skin flushes. When you pull back, he expects to see at least a smidge of disgust.

He wouldn't fault you for it. His years growing up inside of a dog fighting ring had not left him looking pretty  — his teeth were exposed on the left side of his face. Skin ripped off after a particularly rough day with an adrenaline-pumped mutt. His left eye was milky, perpetually tugged back from the scarring, there'd also been the pinkish scar across his neck. That'd been man-made, and you had probably felt the way it dipped and caved like a canyon across his skin.

The reason he wears gloves was because of the other scars too. Chunks of flesh missing, divots, messily stapled fingers.

Jeong-Hyun was a beast. He expects to be treated like one.

You smile at him. Lips parting to show just a sly of teeth, curled lashes making the stars in your eyes shine brighter as you peer down at him. There's just the slightest wisps of steam coming off your skin from the stage light behind you, but you seem completely unbothered by this.

His pupil constrict into slits when he feels your gloved hand trace upwards, grasping onto your wrist so harshly he sees your brows twinge in pain. Yet, you continue to sing. His grip doesn't loosen, keeping you awkwardly in place.

The show must go on.

He's held your wrist away from his neck, but your fingers stretch and his shock is written across his grotesque face. They stroke faintly on the underside of his chin  — a brush, a featherlight touch.

You use his shock to your advantage. As his grip falters, you swiftly slip your hand away and turn your back to him.

"Are you alright?" Seo-Yun speaks from his side. Watching him as he stares at you climbing back on stage, the left side of his face was harder to read. But she can tell he's clenching his jaw, nostrils flaring.

But he wasn't angry. Not the slightest bit.

It was no surprise Jeong-Hyun missed a few important milestones due to his childhood. Of course, Seo-Yun had hired the best doctors to rectify that and for the most part, he's been acclimating just nicely. But complicated emotions always escapes him. Instincts often wins over for Jeong-Hyun.

You were the first person in his life that had made him feel no fear  — you made him feel unabashed desire.

Ideally, you'd prefer to perform in a proper bar. One with less shady figures. Where the men with tattoos aren't so shameless in showing off the knife sheaths near their waist. But it's tough to be a singer in this day and age. Bills, bills and more bills.

Not to mention loan sharks.

You don't understand why fate had decided to put you through these battles  — to make your father pass and graciously leaving you with nothing but his debts. It royally pissed you off. People tell you to not speak ill of the dead, but fuck him.

You hadn't been rolling in dough before he decided to drop dead but you'd been fine. Living in a small, closet-like, apartment near your college; working part-time here and there and then busking at night. Life hadn't been easy but it'd been simple.

Now? You were here in a room full of the scum of the Earth. You didn't even want to imagine what they do for a living. You were just grateful that you'd been hired here  — the pay was enough to keep the loan sharks from banging onto your poor door and splashing red paint all over your entrance. You had to drop out but you can always continue once you survive this.

Because that's all that matters now. Surviving.

So even if you're pulled into the lap of some gangsters lap or have your nape be grabbed at as you sing and twirl around the room in a true Jessica Rabbit-esque fashion, you endure.

Because you'd rather be groped than be dead.

You deserved to be alive, goddammit.

At least you weren't like the other omegas 'entertainers' in the room. You didn't think yourself as above them, not at all, but you were grateful your shady contract didn't mention any backroom work.

Tonight, like most nights, began with the curtains raising to reveal you. The  — in all the ways that count  — untouchable omega in his sparkling outfit of feathers and velvet. You sing and dance, walk down the stage to the wolf-whistles of many, and make your way through the room.

A few familiar faces stick out. The man with the lip scar grips your waist as you walk past and you look at him from over your shoulder, pretending to be delighted at the sight of him uncrossing his legs to show the tent in his pants.

Pig.

Then, there, at the more VIP tables. A woman in a red dress, surrounded by other omegas all fawning over her. Next to her, an imposing figure.

His profile was so beautiful. His nose had a subtle curve, the tip more round than sharp, and his strong brows complimenting the deep-high crease of his double eyelid. Such a strong jaw, inky black hair tousled but in the way that makes him look like a boy rather than a gangster.

With his legs spread, and his broad shoulders. His gloved hands crossed over his chest. You place yourself between his knees and when he turns you're momentarily caught off guard.

Holy. Fuck.

You'd seen scars before. Missing fingers, milky eyes, nicked lips, tattoos having a streak of pink flesh forever ruining it. This guy must've royally pissed someone off to have his fucked up like that. Despite that, as his good eye processes you're in front of him, he clams up like a shy school girl.

No slimy smirk, no rough hands gripping at your ass, no flare of scent. His cheeks are dusted with pink and his mouth gapes. When you touch him, he stiffens just slightly, but he keeps his hands to himself. Behind you, the bassist's fingers stutter, missing his rhythm for a split second before smoothly recovering.

Leaning in, you continue to sing right into his good ear, feeling the scars on his chest through the thin shirt. Which gives your nimble fingers to the chance to feel the leather straps he had and your eyes widen.

Fuck, he must be some sort of legend here, huh? Sitting in VIP, having a fucking gun on him.

You glance at the woman behind him and you suck in a quick breath as she narrows her eyes at you. The girls around her all shoot you concerned expressions, lips pursing as they ping-pong between you and the scarred man beneath you.

Oh, shit. Were they together or something?

You pull away, attempting to keep your heart calm as you continue to play off this entire act as smoothly as you can. Lifting your hand upwards, just to tease his Adam's apple and then turn away.

But the second your hand is past his collarbones, he reacts. His grip is deadly. Your bones wheeze under the pressure and the leather gloves he wears creak along with it.

Be calm, you tell yourself. He can't shoot you in the middle of a show in front of everyone...can he?

Cold sweat beads down the back of your neck. Still, you keep your composure.

The show must go on.

He looks at your face and falters, so you offer his chin a quick brush as thanks before you swiftly turn to walk away. Your heart racing in your chest. The stage, the stage is safe.

Not if he decides to shoot you from there, you think solemnly. You shoot him another glance, and your gazes clash together. His hands are on his lap, gripping his knees instead. Far away from his gun.

You're safe.

You're safe.

You're safe.

The curtains close and you close your eyes, placing a hand over your chest as you grip onto the microphone stand. A hand grabs at your shoulder and you barely suppress the yelp when it spins you around. It's the bassist, a tall lanky alpha with his wavy hair always neatly slicked back. The entire band is standing, making their way to you with concern so evident between the crease in their brows.

"Are you fucking stupid?"

Instantly, their concern makes you annoyed. You smack his hand away and frown. You put the microphone back in its place and take out your in-ear, sighing tiredly as you walk past them.

"No, I'm not stupid, hyung." He chases after you behind stage, his bass still slung across his neck.

"Then you must be suicidal! Do you know who the hell you just groped?" Your shoulders raise and your cheeks warm. You turn to glare at him, tugging away that stupid feathered boa and scowling.

"I didn't fucking grope anyone! Shit, what's the big fucking deal? I didn't know he had a girlfriend, or wife, or madam, okay?" He shakes his head and takes steps towards you, hands raise as he emphasizes his shock.

"That's Kim Jeong-Hyun. Kim fucking Jeong-Hyun. And the woman behind him? That's his sister, Kim Seo-Yun."

"Ha-Joon-hyung, there's a million fucking Kim's in this country. Gangsters don't have a gangster-pedia, I don't know who they are, nor do I care," you say exasperatedly. Ha-Joon's hands flap around wildly for a moment as he stutters, trying his hardest it seemed to not just grab your shoulders and shake you around.

"Hyung, I'm really tired  — " you turn " — and I'm not interested in knowing who they are. I'll just avoid them next time, okay? I've got an early shift tomorrow, see you."

Ha-Joon's hands drop to his side as he stares at you walking away.

"...He's fucking crazy...that kid is fucking crazy..."

A week or so after that, your life continues as normal. Your legal part-time job had been uneventful. Not much customers, and the few that were there had been polite. You hope your shady part-time job was as mundane. Arriving through the back of a seafood restaurant, you greet the dishwasher who'd been smoking as he crouched under a flickering light.

"Hey, got any leftovers from tonight?" he nods, offering you a smile as he stands. "Got some packed away for you already, left it in your room."

You beam up at him, thanking him and slipping under his arm when he opens the door for you. The restaurant was winding down, cleaning up and preparing the drunkards that'll meander in. You greet a few familiar faces, expertly getting out of their way until you finally reach the door that leads you underground.

Your room was tiny. A vanity squeezed in with one flimsy rack of clothes and a poorly ventilated bathroom. You find your dinner awaiting you and eagerly sit down to feast. But then something catches your eye.

Flowers were normal. Not wanted but easy to get rid off.

These were not flowers. You stared at the box for a moment. Chocolates? No. It's a wide box. A lot of chocolates? Sighing, you reach over and stare at the unfamiliar logo on the box, picking up the note it came with.

Keep u safe - K. JH

You blink a few times as you stare at the messy handwriting. When you look at the box again, you are torn between feeling relief that you hadn't pissed him off and feeling a bit scared that you'd apparently caught his eye. When opened, the box reveals a fucking knife. Not an ordinary kitchen knife either. It was a proper fucking knife — for hunting. Animals and people. The blade was shining under the bulbs of your vanity; the handle rough and hefty and dark. You drop the lid, taking a step back only to stiffen as a familiar voice speaks from behind you.

"Fucking weirdo, right?"

"Boss!" You turn and bow at the waist, he regards you with a smile and nod. You straighten up and turn your attention to the fucking knife on your desk sitting all pretty and safe. Next to it seemed to be its sheath, along with some sort of straps.

He bought you the whole fucking set?

"What kind of alpha gifts an omega a fucking knife? Kim fucking Jeong-Hyun, that ugly bastard," he enters the already too small room and you bump into the clothing rack to give him room. He lifts the knife and whistles, eyeing the sharp edge.

"...Do you wanna take it?" you wonder as you watch his face from the mirror. He cringes, tilting his head and hissing through his teeth as he uses the mirror to glance your way too. "And lose my fucking hand? Hell no. If any of his sisters men sees me with this? I'm as good as dead."

He slips the knife into its sheath, carefully putting it back in the box then kicking the fallen lid to your feet. He notices your dinner and picks up the plastic bowl, taking the lid off and taking a sniff. He leans on the table and shamelessly grabs the plastic spoon in the plastic to take a bite.

"I forgot to tell you not to get in their way, my mistake. I thought with a face that ugly you'd be too scared to get close anyways." He speaks through mouthfuls of rice. You lose your appetite.

"Who is he, sir?" you shifted your weight from one foot to another. He chews, swallowing thickly then answers.

"His sisters monster. Her hellhound. Nobody has any idea what hole those two freaks crawled out of, but they've been killing entire fucking gangs in the 3 years they're here. Entire bloodlines." He points the spoon your way, splashing some soup your way and you flinch as some rice sticks to your cheek. You frown, he ignores it.

"3 years, fucking insane! Burning down buildings, painting entire towns red until the leader puts his head on the floor and submits. Fucking brats, she doesn’t even use honorifics when speaking to me. That bitch."

Okay, perhaps you should have listened to Ha-Joon.

"You know I heard that once he cut off someone's arms and legs and left them crawling on the ground? Sicked his dogs on them. Heard that poor bastard's dick got torn off by some German Shepherd."

Your appetite was officially gone and your face was surely a shade of green now. He glances at the box again, shaking his head as he takes another hefty bite of your dinner.

"He give a note or something?" You squeeze the card in your hand and slip it behind you. He scoffs as you shake your head. "Yeah, thought so. 'pparently he's dimwitted. Just stay away from him next time, yeah? Hurts my heart just thinkin' of your pretty face getting ripped apart."

He pats your shoulders as he walks out. Well, there goes your dinner. For a moment, you take a moment to process what you’d been told before you reread the note in your hand.

Keep u safe — K.JH

After that night, like some ironic joke, you haven't felt safe. You feel followed. Everywhere you went, you were certain someone was there to watch. In the beginning, when the hairs on your neck prickled in the middle of your part-time job of serving people food, you thought that it was just paranoia. But then, then, you start seeing them.

Men in black caps and face masks. Women with their phone camera always tilted your way. Just in your peripheral, always avoiding your gaze and smoothly slipping away when they know that you know.

That knife was still in its box, you refused to use it. Keeping it under your bed out of all places. But lately, you swear all you can think about when you're at home is how its just right there.

Keep u safe.

Did he know something you didn't? Was he actually just trying to give you a fighting chance against these pro-stalkers? Or were you losing your goddamn mind and the stress was getting to you?

A month of this and you were already contemplating carrying a weapon that'd just get you in more trouble. What did you know about handling a knife like that?

You were scared of nicking your knuckles whenever you were cooking. Did he think you would just magically understand how self-defense worked?

You knocked on Ha-Joon's door. He's been expecting you so he opens with no trepidation. You had a backpack and a duffel bag, greeting him politely and he allows you inside his home. It's nothing grand but he had a guest bedroom and he pitied you enough.

"Thanks, hyung" he shuts the door behind you and sighs. "Don't mention it."

He was a scaredy cat but he couldn't let you keep this up. You'd been sleeping in the room backstage, putting on more concealer and constantly gazing off into nothingness. One of the band members had offered you cocaine and the second he saw you even contemplating it he knew you were at your wits end.

It's one thing to keep gangsters entertained, it's another to be dirtying your hands with the same filth.

He leads you to your room, hoping that sleeping under the same roof as another person would give your anxieties some reprieve.

You place your things down and sit at the edge of the bed, swaying a bit and he bids you goodnight for now.

When the curtains raise, he's there. Right there. In front of you, looking up at you. His sister was nowhere in sight. Instead, there's a pack of men and women behind of him. They're not even looking at you, they have other omegas or betas hanging off their arms and seem intent on keeping their gaze away from you.

He's staring at you. Tilting his head slowly, the left side of his face kept hidden in the shadows and you try to keep your heart calm but when he looks at you like that — like he wants to swallow you whole.

The lyrics slip your mind, so you play it off by glancing at the band instead and moving your body to the beat.

Breathe, you remind yourself. You're fine, you're okay, you're safe.

The flash of gore erupting behind your eyelids with every blink was not helping. Your imagination runs wild, conjuring the image of a human torso wriggling desperately on the ground as dogs viciously ripped into him as he screamed.

You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling sharply as you shakily bring the microphone to your lips. Don't tremble, don't let your voice waver. The boss was going to cut your pay if you fuck up.

When you turn to face the crowd again, Jeong-Hyun isn't looking at you anymore. He's signing to the man closest to him, his movements short and concise. The man, who wore sunglasses, nods and then stands. He disappears into the crowd.

You slip down from the stage, as per your routine, and feel instantly trapped. The pack of his men were like maze walls, cold and uninterested. When you approached, they curl their lips in a quick huff, turning their head away and your hand hangs in the air dejectedly. The prize at the end of the maze was obvious. He was waiting for you, looking at you from over his shoulder as you feebly attempted to find someone else anyways.

It was beginning to look pathetic. Every time you did attempt to head over to the leering alphas in the back, you found long legs blocking your way.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

You put a smile on your face and float to his side. He doesn't smile, doesn't leer, he fucking blushes. Your brows twitch but you place a hand on his shoulder and move to sit on his lap. He instantly moves to keep you steady, hand floating away from your waist and you wonder if the stalkers were truly his doing.

What kind of mobster is he? Surely a 'hellhound' would be more vicious in their pursuit. You press your chest to his shoulder, curling one hand behind him and brushing his untainted skin. He faces you and his eye was glimmering like molten gold.

When you brush under his jaw — being wary of his neck — he lashes tremble. His gaze softening at once. You experimentally cup his cheek, and he all at once leans into your hold; like a puppy.

You're stunned.

Keep u safe.

There's no way these strange men and women were because of him. It's not like he's the first person to send you gifts — although he is the first person to send you a fucking knife as a gift — and you do interact with dangerous people nightly. Perhaps he really did mean well. In his own weird way. You continue to sing on his lap and he looks up at you like you're the moon.

Monster? Him?

Perhaps the sleep deprivation and working yourself to your bones is starting to cloud your judgement but you reach behind and guide his hand closer.

He can feel it. The shape of the sheath and hilt, just under the slit of your long-dress. Not an ideal place, it’s too high. If you attempted to use it, the fur coat you wore would get in the way and you'd be wasting precious seconds. He flicks his gaze to your thighs and you can feel his gloved hands lift your dress. You squeeze your thighs, eyes widening in alarm but that deadly grip keeps you still.

He pulls the dress up and slips it over your unarmed thigh. The fur coat you wore is keeping it all concealed, so he slips his finger underneath the top band around your thigh.

Too fucking tight, Jesus Christ.

He tugs and your thighs jerk. He fixes it one-handed, seamlessly loosening it and tightening it just right. Your leg tingles in relief. The lower band is still the same, so he loosens it and tenderly strokes the hexagonal pattern that pressed into your skin. Then he fixes the knife, pulls it down so the hilt won't get stuck and just as you finish your song he slips the dress back in place and his hands float away.

When you stand, his eyes flutters close when you brush your wrist across his cheek; he takes a deep inhale and stares at you. If he could, he’d put your scent in a bottle. To savour forever. That mountain peak, that valley of rare flowers — his and only his.

Jeong-Hyun stares up at you. Honey and milk-coloured eyes glowing like the moon.

There's flowers waiting in your room this time. Dark red flowers, an unusual bouquet of exotic flowers. You shut the door behind you and inspect them, noting the card slipped between the petals.

Pretty like u — K. JH

This was a significant improvement from the knife. Your thighs prickle at the memory of his touch and you shake your head. Sitting down, you lean in to take a whiff and the blend of scents makes your ears warm. That base, a woody blend of oak and ash; a constant burning ember.

It smells like Jeong-Hyun. Kim fucking Jeong-Hyun.

He was strange. From his scribbly handwriting to his muted self; the scars on his face and body; the bashfulness he exhibits; the attentiveness he provides you with.

Those big hands adjusting the gift he gave you. Silent, admiring, courteous.

You place your arms on the desk and melt onto it, brows furrowed.

There’s no way you would ever catch yourself falling for him. You weren’t jetting to be some helpless omega ensnared in some mob romance. This wasn’t going to happen. You could imagine fucking him or being sweet with him, but could that actually happen?

You’ve had enough with loan sharks and now weird stalkers.

You just wanted to survive.

Shutting your eyes, you hide your face in your arms.

Just survive.

Everything will die down soon enough. Still, as you move to remove your coat and undress yourself — the sight of the knife holstered to your thigh as you stand naked in the mirror, it stirs something in your hindbrain. Your inner-omega, that stupid little shit, was incredibly pleased. Goosebumps spread as you remember his touch and you inch closer to the mirror.

You slip a finger under the strap and shudder. The flowers scent had permeated through the tiny room and you feel like he’s here. All over you. Close enough to feel how he burns.

Bowing your head, you curse under your breath. Slick was beginning to appear and you can’t risk stinking up this room. It’s a stupid risk and you aren’t fucking stupid. Not a damsel omega in distress.

Your stomach howling in hunger distracts you enough. Reaching for your casual wear, you hurriedly dress and shove the knife into your backpack. You glance over at the flowers as you open the door.

“...Fuck.”

The bouquet box is small enough to fit under your arm but not small enough to be inconspicuous. So you don’t flinch when the guy who guards the backdoor of the restaurant asks if you need him to dispose of it.

“Nah, these are way too nice!” you chirp out. At this, he pauses and raises his thick brow. Flustered, you bid him goodbye and rush to Ha-Joon’s idling car.

Pretty or not, you know how people would see it. An omega accepting an alphas gifts, twice now, was an obvious sign that the courting was being accepted. Ha-Joon’s displeasure at the sight of flowers was so obvious you send him a pleasing look he disregards.

“You’re really losing your head...”

“I’ll throw ‘em out! But not here, okay? What if he sees I do and he turns me into a human stick?” Ha-Joon’s face turns white and he mutters that you have an active imagination. But your lame reasoning has him reluctantly nodding so you count it as a win.

Unbeknownst to you, the sight of that bouquet under your arm had already made Jeong-Hyun’s heart flutter. He watches as Ha-Joon’s car drives off, hidden in the shadows as he takes special notice of his license plate.

You were accepting his gifts. His knife and his flowers. Jeong-Hyun felt his lips twitching and he pushed himself off the rough walls to continue keeping his eyes on the car. A lightness in his step that dissipates as he takes notice of an unnerving sight. The headlights of a car in the alleyway across from him.

Rationale should tell him this was most likely just a coincidence but his instincts bare its teeth. The car pulls out and goes along the same road that Ha-Joon’s had. He huffs through his nose, brows furrowed.

Trouble.

Jeong-Hyun’s knuckles whiten as he imprints the car's license plate to his memory.

Danger.

When it escapes from his sight, he turns sharply on his heel and makes his way to his own car. He gets inside, grinding his teeth together as he fishes his phone out from his jacket.

Keep u safe.

[stinkysam]

Monkey D. Luffy - When are they gonna kiss ?

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : "Opla!luffy x male reader, meeting a powerful devil fruit user who’s fairly attractive and luffy is super shy about it and his crew is just confused" + "OPLA fic of Luffy here he meets a reader and they're really flirty with him and the others are just like "get together already" and maybe if you're okay with it you could have a bit of smut as well." - anon 1 + anon 2

Reader : male (you/yours)

A/N : Part TWO

Now, this is new for him.

In all his life, Luffy has never stopped anything for someone good-looking. Hell, he didn't even know what the world saw as a criteria of beauty.

You're handsome if you're cool looking, right ? Like cyborgs, for example. They're so cool they have to be handsome for everyone !

So for Luffy to find you attractive without being a cyborg, you have to be a special kind of handsome.

And that you are !

Cool, handsome, strong, you have it all and Luffy can't help but look at you with wide eyes as he smiles.

He almost asked you to join his crew before knowing what you were capable of doing. You were too cool/handsome to not be on his crew.

But when he saw your power and how you used it, yeah you definitely had to be a part of his crew.

Talking about them, the crew, they have noticed the way he looks at you, stealing glances your way, eyes shinier than usual, acting as if he's being giddy.

At first it was weird to see him act like this, although they only knew Luffy for a couple of days, watching him stop running everywhere for someone attractive was definitely not on their bingo cards.

Sanji, Nami and Usopp were quick to see Luffy's crush on you. While Zoro only thought he acted this way because you looked cool. Like a kid being shown his Christmas presents before opening them.

Oh, he was wrong of course. With the way Luffy's heart jumped in his chest each time you made a comment, a flirty remark always well placed.

Unable to feel anything else other than sheepish, grinning broadly at each of the words you threw his way. Like a dog hearing "treat".

People would be wrong to assume Luffy isn't touched by flirting. The way he perks up each time you flirt with him. Which is all the time. Always flustering him.

The rest of the crew didn't mind your dynamic with him, you seemed like a good person and seeing how you flirted with him, you were clearly both on the same page. They're just waiting for you two to get together, this chase, with the way you're flirting and how he's reacting, grew old pretty quickly.

"When do you think they're gonna… ?" Nami asks, her head resting on her hand as she sat outside on the Merry.

"Kiss ?" Asked Usopp. "I don't know."

"I feel like [Name] is a gentleman." Sanji chimed in. "Even though it's hard to see with all the flirting."

The two others hummed, as Sanji gave them a little en-cas.

"It'll take time." He added.

"Will you please tune it down ?" Said Zoro, trying to nap. Sanji rolled his eyes with Nami as Usopp focused back on what he was doing.

The four of them were unaware of what you two were doing in the cabin. Both growing really close and touchy. More than just kissing.

Each time you two would get intimate Luffy couldn't help but get shy, your pretty remarks making his brain short-circuit and unsure if he's doing the right thing.

Smiling almost maniacally as a light blush spreads to his cheeks while you say the prettiest and dirtiest things to him.

It's relentless, even when you pound into him, short gasps and moans leaving his lips as you whisper dirty things in his ears. His arms wrapped around you as if to keep you against him forever.

God, you're always so beautiful it's breathtaking. Even when you're covered in sweat and panting, you still look as attractive as ever with your voice slightly shaky from the effort and your dilated pupils.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Law-Related Vocabulary

for your poem/story (pt. 3/4)

After-born - born after a certain event (as a father's death or the execution of a will)

Aliunde - from another source

Alluvion - material (as clay, silt, sand, or gravel) deposited by running water

Bona fide - characterized by good faith and lack of fraud or deceit; being real or genuine, sincere

Brain death - the final stopping of activity in the central nervous system especially as indicated by a flat electroencephalogram for a usually statutorily predetermined period of time

Cas fortuit - fortuitous event (i.e., an event of natural or human origin that could not have been reasonably foreseen or expected and is out of the control of the persons concerned)

Choice of evils defense - a defense to a criminal charge based on the assertion that the criminal act was committed to avoid the commission of an even greater evil

Civil fruit - the revenue derived from property especially by virtue of an obligation (as a lease)

Death with dignity law - a law legalizing the self-administration by a terminally ill person of life-ending medication prescribed by a physician; also called "right-to-die law"

Defalcation - failure to account for or pay over money that has been entrusted to one's care; a failure to meet a promise or an expectation

Embracery - an attempt to influence a jury corruptly

Evidentiary harpoon - evidence consisting especially of a police officer's statement that is improper and is knowingly offered by the prosecution to prejudice the defendant in the eyes of the jury

Ex aequo et bono - according to what is equitable and good

Excited utterance - a statement that concerns a startling event (as a physical assault) and that is made by a person while under stress caused by the event

Featherbedding - the unfair labor practice of causing an employer to pay for services which are not performed (as by requiring more workers than necessary)

Feticide - the act of causing the death of a fetus

Fishing expedition - an investigation that does not stick to a stated objective but hopes to uncover incriminating or newsworthy evidence

Flagrante delicto - in the very act of committing a misdeed; also: in the midst of sexual activity

Flat rule - a generalized rule applied without consideration for specific circumstances; called also "per se rule"

Gift inter vivos - a gift made during the lifetime of the donor and delivered with the intent of surrendering immediately and irrevocably dominion and control over the property

Hedonic damages - damages deemed to compensate for the loss of enjoyment of life resulting from a wrongful act

Inadvertent discovery - unexpected finding of incriminating evidence in plain view by the police

Mental cruelty - conduct by one spouse that renders the other's life miserable and unendurable and that is a ground for divorce

Mens rea - a culpable mental state

Noscitur a sociis - a doctrine or rule of construction: the meaning of an unclear or ambiguous word (as in a statute or contract) should be determined by considering the words with which it is associated in the context

Pecuniary - consisting of, measured in, or relating to money

Peonage - labor in a condition of servitude to extinguish a debt

Perils of the sea - perils that are peculiar to the sea but are of such an extraordinary nature and power that one cannot guard against them using ordinary skill and prudence

Quashal - an act of quashing something

Riparian - of or relating to or living or located on the bank of a watercourse (as a river or stream) or sometimes a lake

Scintilla - a small trace or barely perceptible amount of something (as evidence supporting a position)

Silent witness theory - a theory or rule in the law of evidence; photographic evidence (as photographs or videotapes) produced by a process whose reliability is established may be admitted as substantive evidence of what it depicts without the need for an eyewitness to verify the accuracy of its depiction

Vulture fund - an investment company that buys up bankrupt or insolvent companies with the goal of reorganizing them so they can be profitably resold as going concerns

Wrongful conception - a malpractice claim brought by the parents of a healthy but unwanted child usually against a physician or health-care provider for alleged negligence in performing a sterilization or abortion procedure and sometimes against a pharmacist or pharmaceutical manufacturer of contraceptives; also called "wrongful pregnancy"

Youthful offender - a young person (as one within a statutorily specified age range) who commits a crime but is granted special status entitling him or her to a more lenient punishment (as one involving probation or confinement in a special youth correctional facility) than would otherwise be available

If any of these words make their way into your next poem/story, please tag me, or leave a link in the replies. I would love to read them!

More: Law-Related Words ⚜ Word Lists

[hanbindans]

zb1 as boyfriends!!

word count: 2.8k (only ca 350 for each) a/n: requested!! I wrote them in bulletpoint form in an attempt to keep a structure, but I do apologize if it's in-cohesive because my brain is still in finals mode (cries). I also apologize if you think my use of emojis is too much but it just makes sense. Hanbin stans who hate coffee just pretend you don't for this 1 post <33 thanks

jiwoong

You guys. Jiwoong is THE boyfriend. He knows all the in's and out's of boyfriending™ at this point. Will not disappoint.

He might fall in love a liiittle before you, but honestly it would be pretty mutual from the beginning. I think he would have to meet someone with the mindset that it would lead to a relationship (probably doesn't go from being friends to dating) so if he meets you and likes you he would make it known :)

Pretends to like dates in the beginning; going out to have nice dinners, going on late night walks in the city, visiting animal cafés, anything that gives you a chance to talk a lot and really get to know each other.

When he knows he's got you he will prefer at-home dates though because going out is a little too much effort and he'd rather just chill on his couch <333 If you still want to go out for dates though he would of course compromise!!!

Speaking of which- he's so good at communicating and making sure you're both happy, in the relationship and otherwise. Kind of loves when you come to him for advice or admit when you're struggling with something because he sees that as a big sign of trust.

"hey I bet you can't get me a bag of chips from the convenience store in 15 minutes" and you speed to the convenience store because you're a fool in love <3

I don't think he is super lovey dovey- he's more about the casual displays of affection. A "hey, you look really nice today" when he can tell you made an extra effort. A packed lunch waiting for you in the fridge when he knows you're going to have a busy day. Of course he lets you know he loves you, just not every second of every day.

In general he is a very chill, low maintenance boyfriend who is secure in your relationship. Is mature enough to communicate and compromise with you whenever you disagree on something (which is very sexy of him 🤌 we love).

zhang hao

Oh you're totally the one who falls in love first. He has insane rizz- like you're going to be crushing on him for a good few months before he develops feelings back.

Once he does though he's allllll yours. Looks at you with full on heart eyes and giggles at everything you say but is cool about it if that makes sense?? Like he acts unaffected and tries to be the cool and sophisticated boyfriend but it's painfully obvious he's totally head-over-heels in love.

He is 1. a busy man, and 2. an introvert, so his favourite type of dates are in calm and not-so busy places where you can just wind down and spend time together, like small cafés or going for long strolls in nature and just talking. He would also love to just stay at home as you both do your own things, just vibing in peace and being productive.

Will nag at you for every little thing but it's out of love. It's always "babe a granola bar isn't a meal 😒" and "I can't believe you never remember to apply sunscreen!!" but it's not to be annoying he just cares about you (and most of the time he's right).

Brings you cut fruits to snack on when you're busy doing something <3

One thing about Zhang Hao is that he IS a great boyfriend, but he will remind you himself through small comments. "Am I not the best boyfriend... Where else could you find a boyfriend like me... You're so lucky to have the handsomest boyfriend...." He loves you so much and he doesn't want you to find another boyfriend so he is pitching himself so you don't go away <3

The most caring boyfriend who will look after you and make you feel so so loved. Life is exhausting sometimes but this relationship is the perfect safe space for the both of you to relax and be unapologetically yourselves.

hanbin

I don't know if this is an unpopular opinion but I think he would fall in love first!! He's a soft boi at heart, when he meets someone he likes he falls hard and FAST. Luckily for him you fall back though because duh he's Sung Hanbin.

COOKING AND BAKING DATES OF COURSE!!!!!! He will seduce you by cooking your favourite homemade dishes and making you the best cup of coffee you've ever had. Also learns how to make bread so he can lure you into being his partner forever and ever 😈

If you were up for it, I think he would love to take you out dancing. He will teach you if you want and are worried about embarrassing yourself, he just wants you to go out and have fun together!! Probably knows all the good spots and will take you out on the occasional Friday night 🕺🕺

We know this man stays busy, so he might not have that much free time to spend with you... That being said you have his undivided attention whenever he does see you. You have something to say?? All other conversations are unimportant. You're going into another room?? He won't follow you around but he IS counting the seconds until you come back.

If you compliment him on pretty much anything he is an emotional wreck the rest of the day. Wuws his praise, especially from you <3333

Kind of his favourite thing to do is to sit down with you after a long week, have some snacks and some nice drinks ready, and you just rant to each other about work/school/people or whatever. Sometimes you just need to complain to someone you confide in, ya know?? And he needs to know who your enemies are because they are his enemies too.

He just likes you a LOT and wants to involve you in all his favourite things. Hanbin loves life and having fun- and he wants you to have fun too!! You are his most beloved person ever and he shows that by making you a part of his life in all the ways he can.

matthew

There's not a single alternate universe where a relationship with Matthew wouldn't start as friends to lovers. I'm sorry it just works too well with him. You start falling for each other at around the same time, but he's probably the first one to confess. You're both just two fools extremely in love <3

Absolute date master but it's completely unintentional?? Idk, I think he would plan really cute date like picnics in the park or at-home movie nights with dinner. He just has a knack for dates that make you feel like the main character in a movie.

He has one (1) mission and it is to devastate you all the time. Prepare to receive cute texts for no reason, matching jewellery, and for him to ask to take couple pics that he can use as his phone background 🥲

Will teach you his choreographies. Even if it's only two easy steps. Doesn't matter if you are a dancer or not. His baby will be able to dance to his songs!!!

You know how he wants to be the hot Canadian oppa or whatever? Your partner privilege is that you're the only one allowed to tell him he's cute. Like he loves when you giggle and ruffle his hair and kiss his cheeks but that's only because he loves you. If Gyubin tried that shit on Matthew he would be on the floor in a chokehold. Use this privilege wisely.

When it's just the two of you he literally can't keep his hands off of you. Wraps his arms around you so you have no choice but to lie down on the couch and let him hold you and press kisses all over your face. He just likes his cuddles.

Overall a very loving boyfriend who lives to let you know how special you are. You deserve to be treated like a k-drama main character- so he ends up doing all the cliché, cute and romantic things for you that he never imagined himself enjoying before- but now has a special person to do them with <3

taerae

You both start liking each other around the same time. He's a pretty social guy and just very easy to like, so I feel like you would become close pretty fast, and he would confess that he likes you pretty quickly too.

As great as he is to spend time with and talk to- he sucks at the whole dating thing. He does really like you and wants to spend time with you almost always, he just doesn't like the logistics of arranging a date. What do you mean they don't show that movie next Friday?? What do you mean we have to decide where to have dinner?? Please just tell him where you want to go and he will happily go there with you. He just doesn't want to do the whole planning bit.

Sitting together in his bedroom as he strums on his guitar and you do something else.

Very cheesy boyfriend but it's so cute <3 Tooth-rottingly sweet texts and compliments for absolutely no reason, thoughtful birthday gifts, randomly getting you flowers, the works.

He could be the mature, calm, chill boyfriend..... but why would he want to?? Much more fun being your kind of insane boyfriend who acts like the calm and chill boyfriend in front of other people. Like sometimes he has Einstein level thoughts. Sometimes he lies to you that there is a dog behind you just for shits and giggles.

I think he has a pretty high EQ and he would give great comfort and advice if you needed it. Always there for you if you need to rant about your day and that annoying person you don't like, or if you have a problem that he has to help you solve. Empathises really well and never judges you for your honest thoughts.

Taerae really is just a great guy to begin with, but when he's in a relationship with you he is the nicest, most fun and supportive boyfriend . Always willing to go the extra mile for you and make you feel like the most loved person in the world :)

ricky

Hmmm.... I mean there's a much bigger chance that you fall in love first than the other way around. That being said: he's absolutely whipped when he does start liking you back. Like. Gyubin would make fun of him because he literally can't focus on anything else when you're around. So in the end you're both fools in love <3

Oh the dates are going to be top tier. Your wish is his command and the budget is LARGE, so pretty much wherever you want to go or whatever you want to do, he will make it happen. But I think he has a soft spot for museums, art galleries, basically anything "cultural". Or just walking around the city at night and seeing what's open.

Wants to engage in your hobbies!! He will ask a million questions about your interests (sports, music, cinema, drawing, whatever you're passionate about) so he can see you nerd out and maybe understand you a little better. He will also be SO SO SO happy if you're willing to engage in his interests and watch his favourite shows with him because THAT is true love <33

Tbh he's not always great at clearly expressing or asking for affection- but the one thing he would actually ask for is head massages. After a long day, he just can't resist the temptation of spacing out while you run your hands through his hair. He is still too embarrassed to ask for it with his words though, so he just gets all quiet and leans his head onto you and hopes you get the hint (you do).

He also wants to share everything. Mostly shirts, hoodies, jackets- sometimes jewellery. Be careful because while this does mean you can borrow his stuff, he will also borrow yours. Hide your shit if there's something you want to keep to yourself.

He is trying to be the cool, sophisticated boyfriend- but he's just a big softie at the end of the day!! He secretly loves all the cute coupley things like fancy dates and matching necklaces, and he loves to surprise you and watch your eyes go all wide in awe. Really just wants to walk around and be in love all day <3

gyubin

Friends to lovers where you meet through mutual friends and are in the same friend group for a while, silently crushing on each other until one of your other friends gets sick of the tension and tells both of you that you like each other.

Dates are very spontaneous but always fun!! If he has to run errands or go somewhere he will force you to come with him to keep him company. In return he says something to make you laugh approx. every 4 minutes to keep you entertained.

Oh when I say that he is attached to you at the hip... He can't go a full day without talking to you- either by text, on the phone, or face to face. Even when he is with you he HAS to be touching you pretty much all the time- holding your hand and playing with your fingers. If you ask him to tone it down in public he will... Begrudgingly..... Actually physically holding himself back from grabbing your hand.

His one mission every day is to make you laugh at least once. Has a folder of memes saved on his phone that he updates regularly so he can send you something every day.

Prepare to share all your drinks and food for the rest of your life. You got a smoothie?? He's taking the first sip "tO mAkE sUrE iT's nOt pOiSonEd" (you get to try his smoothie too don't worry).

Other than the fact that he needs to be next to you all the time?? He's pretty low maintenance!! Is perfectly fine with spending a whole weekend rotting away in his bedroom, cuddling up to you and scrolling through tiktok as you show each other funny videos that pop up on your fyp's.

In general I see him as being a very fun and loving boyfriend. You are kind of just besties who kiss, ya know? He genuinely likes spending time with you doing whatever- you're the funniest, kindest, best person he knows- and he lets you know by sending "ily" texts at least twice a day and holding your hand everywhere you go <3

gunwook

Oh he has the world's biggest crush on you for a while before you ask him out (yes you need to ask first he's too scared <3). I'm talking "doodling your name in his notebook with hearts next to it" levels of crush. Loses his mind when you ask him out like YOU LIKE HIM BACK???? Crazy.

A very sweet and polite young man to begin with (lucky you!!), but it's going to be 10x more intense with the person he likes. Prepare yourself to be treated like you saved the world 3 times, ended world poverty, hung the stars in the sky, etc.

He's still pretty young and gets too attached too fast so initially he's very scared to mess things up. Googles 'date ideas' to come up with stuff to do and watches K-dramas to learn how to boyfriend (he has NO idea what he's doing. send help. but it's very cute). With time he becomes more chill though.

Think classic dates in the beginning; watching a movie at the cinema, going to a café, stuff like that. When he gets more comfortable it's more like chilling in his bedroom as you binge watch a netflix show or cuddle and scroll through social media in comfortable silence.

A little dramatic sometimes: he gets super excited over all your small achievements and exaggerates when he tells you how TERRIBLE and AWFUL his day was. Also needs reassurance every once in a while that you really do like him back because he gets in his own head too much. Kind of a drama queen but in the best way.

Wayyy too shy to initiate pretty much ANY type of physical affection so he hopes you will just initiate instead and hold his hand. Ya boy is trying to play it cool but is also a little ~insecure~ so he is in a constant dilemma between holding your hand versus not holding your hand. WHAT IF HE DOESN'T HOLD YOUR HAND AND THEN YOU BREAK UP WITH HIM????? He is distressed 24/7.

Overall- very sweet and shy and confused but he WILL try his best to be the bf you deserve!! He's still working on exactly how to do that but rest assured: he does love you to bits and wants more than anything to make you smile every day 🥲 Best boy.

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Jan van Huijsum (Netherlandish, 1682-1749) Fruit Still Life, ca.1724

[marymary-diva17]

This is a bit of a silly one but ca you do a short story where the reader brings back cotton candy from the lab and the sullies go crazy for it?

sully kids x reader

Sorry for not posting for a while I had been busy with the holidays and family visit, along with being sick as well but I will be back to posting my stories once again. There were some human foods and drinks that had remember and archive, that the human and avatar would use when they missed the taste of home. One day you had gotten the idea to make some candy from earth as your missed the sweet or sour taste of candy, that you had grown up eating when you were a small child to and adult. Making the food you move from your home was good and made you remember, the past and all those ones you have lost. Now you are hoping that this food will bring up good memories, and help you bond with the new ones in your life.

y/n " well these are done it now for a tase" you were making some candy from the supplies you had found and reprice from an archive, you had made a small branch of candies.

y/n " these are so wonderful"

????? " mama mama"

y/n " In here" soon the door of your room had slid open and in comes running tuk, like always soon followed by her brother lo'ak and kiri along with spider.

kiri " hey mama we came to see you"

y/n " hello children I'm sorry I'm a mess right now along with everything else"

lo'ak " what are you making mama"

spider " yeah it smells wonderful in here"

y/n " oh well I'm making some candy this a sweet from earth, that I and your dad grow up" the three children were looking at the candy, that was laying on the baking sheet.

y/n " where is your brother"

lo'ak " he went out on portal with dads and mom he will meet with us later"

y/n " okay we should save him some for later on"

tuk " wait we can try them"

y/n " yes if you wish to" the three children had smiled brightly as each one of them had taken one piece of candy.

kiri " wow the colors are very beautiful"

y/n " yes some human candy as color added to them"

tuk " I'm going to try it" tuk soon ate the piece of candy and soon looked at you, her eyes were wide and smile had grown on her face.

tuk " this is amazing mama it so sweet and soft it so cool mama" kiri and lo'ak soon ate their candy as well, and they had the same facial expression as tuk.

lo'ak " mama how could you never tell us about this food before it so wonderful"

y/n " well I didnt know if it will be good to try human candy on navi"

kiri " it so amazing"

y/n " you know grace use to eat this candy as well it was her favorite"

kiri " really"

spider " see kiri you learn something new about you mom today, wow aunt y/n this candy is wonderful"

y/n " yes she love some sweets from earth and kept some recipe on them, we have them all achieve here so we can remember the foods we once held of dear"

spider " really I only have had some human dishes from earth"

y/n " there are many more recipes I think your mother had left some here as well"

spider " really"

y/n " yes one day I will show you" spider had smile brightly towards you he seem very happy.

lo'ak " what about this group of candy"

y/n " well that candy is sour"

tuk " candy can be sour like some fruit and juice"

y/n " yes will you love to try some"

kids " yes" you soon laugh at the kids as you allowed them to try some of the candy. The kids had soon ate the candy and soon realized candy can be sour as well.

lo'ak " wow mama that is sour"

y/n " yes it is if you don't like it I can toss this away or give it to someone else"

kids " no" you soon looked at the kids as they yelled no towards you, it seems like they didn't take the idea of you toss away the candy or giving it away.

kiri " we love it mama"

spider " yes you can't give it away"

tuk " well you can share it with other but you can't toss it away mama"

y/n " okat forget what I said it will not be tossed away"

neteyam " hey mama ... wait what going on here it smells wonderful" neteyam soon entered the room see everyone standing there.

tuk " team you have come and try candy with us mama made it"

neteyam " candy what is that"

lo'ak " a human food come on try it dude" neteyam was soon dragged over to the candy by tuk, and soon spot the food laying on the tray. he soon took some candy and ate it.

neteyam " wow this is wonderful mama when did you make it"

y/n " yesterday and today"

neteyam " can you teach us to make some please"

y/n " sure loves I can do that"

Jake " hey what going on here we came to see our wife, who was not home to hear all this laughter and talking ... this is candy"

y/n " yes sweet and sour" Jake soon walked closer to you take some candy.

tuk " daddy you can't eat all the candy we have to share"

Jake " you are right baby girl but I missed this candy so much"

neytiri " what are you all eating"

tuk " candy mom it had been made by mama it so wonderful"

tsu'tey " a human thing"

lo'ak " you have to try it dad it wonderful" the kids and Jake were looking at Tsu’tey, and neytiri as they stood there.

y/n “ it okay if you don’t wish to try it my loves, you don’t have to I understand fully” you had looked at your husband and wife.

Jake “ well if you both don’t want any then me and the kids would have more, of y/n wonderful cooking”

neytiri “ no I will love some of her food” neytiri soon took a piece of candy.

Tsu’tey “ yes I will try some as well” Tsu’tey had done the same as Neytiri, soon the both of them had tried the candy. They soon look at you with smile on their faces.

neytiri “ this is wonderful yawne you are a good cook, hon should make these more”

Tsu’tey “ yes I have to agree you are a good cook, and maybe human food is not all that bad” a smile grew on your face as it seems like everyone is enjoying your food.

Tuk “ yes mama you have to make more of these I really love them” Tuk was eating some of the candy while talking with you, making a mess on her face. You soon cleaned her up while laughing with everyone else.

y/n “ sure baby I can do that for you”

kiri “ can we try making other human food that will be good”

y/n “ sure my loves we can make other human foods, and many of them can be used some the stuff around here and human stuff”

Jake “ wow you are smart to make them all work well together”Jake had kissed your forehead making you smile as him, as he had taken more candy.

y/n “ thank you”

Tsu’tey “ well we are here tell us more about these human food, as they sound interesting” you had nodded your head telling your family more about human food, and anything else they wish to know. Your spouses enjoyed watching you talk with the children and answering their questions. It seems like making human good was not a bad idea after all, as everyone seem to be enjoying it and wanting more as well. Soon enough it had become a tradition among the family to taste some human food, that was either made by you or Jake but mostly by you at times.

[insanesonofabitch]

It just fucking hit me that while Sam has never even heard of the Dean Cave until 13x16, it was one of the first places Cas checks when he arrives with the fruit from the tree of life. This is the same season Dean mentions having movie nights with Cas.

[lttl3babybug]

Regressor!Sam Winchester Headcanons

A/N: i apologise for any inaccuracies to character :( I’m only on season 4 and it’s my first time watching the show I’m just really really fixated and it’s the only content my brain is letting me make rn

📓Sam regresses to a similar age as Dean, typically a little younger though

📓I’d say 3-6 for his age range but as he gets older he starts reverting back to his teen years every now and then

📓Oh this little guy loves the outdoors

📓Little Sam’s ideal day out is going to sit by a river with Dean so he can tell him about rocks ‘n stuff

📓He also loves a good museum, especially an interactive one

📓He’s very clingy when he’s small

📓He needs to be holding something, if he’s not holding Dean or Cas’s hand then he’s holding onto his own shirt or a stuffie

📓He definitely likes stuffed animals, they bring him a lot of comfort

📓Sam regresses for a hundred and one different reasons but a big one is that this little guy is sleep deprived

📓He whines about being tired then whines when it’s bedtime

📓He loves reading, he has a few of them ‘1000 fun facts’ books that he reads facts from to tell to his big brother

📓He sways on his feet SO MUCH, cannot stand still to save his life

📓He’s not as much of a chatterbox as little Dean but when he’s talking he’s talking

📓Lots of ‘um’ and ‘uuhhh’ when talking but give the little guy a minute and he’s back on track

📓He just gets so ahead of himself when telling people things

📓Sam loves a paci, he adores them and will keep it in longer than the recommended 15 minutes

📓Deco paci’s also aren’t really his thing but mainly bc of how much he travels, he doesn’t want it breaking :(

📓If he’s watching tv he prefers nature documentaries or blues clues

📓Sam loves blues clues.

📓Such a smiley little kid

📓He’s one of them toddlers who’ll just sit on the floor giggling to himself

📓He draws! He draws a lot with crayons since they’re the most accessible thing to him with most of the diners he and Dean visit keep them at the tables

📓If they’re eating out Sam often feels a bit too embarrassed to get them kids menus you can do mazes on and such so he makes Dean get one too

📓He loves word searches and connect the dots

📓Very tactile, his hands are on everything

📓The moment they’re sticky he’ll cry and awkwardly wave them at Dean till he cleans them for him

📓He’s very codependent on his cg or Dean

📓Also a pet regressor although he’s not quite figured that out yet but occasionally his brain flips into puppy mode and he’ll go lay across Dean’s lap

📓Fruit 🫶

📓Little Sam loves fruit and yogurt and will always plead to help whoever’s making it

📓He could happily spend a whole day in his jammies eating endless amounts of fruit and yogurt

📓He doesn’t ‘play’ much but he will make his stuffies talk to people or make it seem like they’re talking to him

📓He mainly does it if he’s too nervous to ask for something

“Dean..Miss Kitty says she wants a friend” Sam mumbled to his older brother, the cat clutched to his chest as he glanced at the shelf of plushies off to the side, “did she now? Well..I dunno Sammy..Miss Kitty has a lot of friends already” Dean hummed, smirking a little as his brothers brows furrowed, “Aw hell, what’s the harm in one more”

📓A lot of Sam’s plushies are girls, no one is sure why they just are

📓Lots of dog stuffed toys, he gets most of them from thrift stores they visit or small convenience stores as a treat

[watisthisifnotthat]

Lilith in the 2nd House. Lilith in Taurus.

Everybody should read about this Earth placement. Literally relates to us all. Long post 💕📫

- Quickest shoutout in the post, tagged -

@nayatarot777 is one of the top posts for Lilith in the 2ndH/Taurus. For good reason. They're one of the only posts that actually condense the experience outside of perceptions based on materialism instead of comfort.

Instead of shallowness, there's an authentic view of stability. Growth, development and prosperity instead of exploitation.

This placement manifests itself pretty early in life and prevails it's affects rather and furthermore. The fundaments of the house of Taurus unfold from harvest, spring and the employment of sustainability.

In a world where the nutrition of a person requires health and well-being, to prevail in the BALANCE of these priorities can be resisted against to the point of antagonisation depending on one's own personal coodinance for health and well-being.

Based on environmental climates, economical climates and the means of cultivation this is where we see what the Lilith in 2nd/Taurus projects and is projected against.

Down to puberty and how a women's body develops. The relationship with family and outsiders placing boundaries on their expression of DRESSING due to sexist expectations for modesty and conservatism. Or their modernity and freedom of external expression used against them to EXPECT sexuality or promiscuity.

The presence and accumulations of projections, expectations and frustrations can lead to internalisation if other placements or factors of upbringing didn't sustain a healthy sense of authentic self-esteem. They can be influenced to place themselves within their own discomfort for a limiting and dysfunctional sense of safety and inclusion.

Perhaps not realising they are enabling the conditioning of somebody else's low regard of that person's own worth, self-care and self-love within themselves as the Lilith in 2nd/Taurus. Herein, they are projecting against themselves.

This placement embodies the natural process for all beings to live and thrive with ease and betterment. Chaos and negativity always arrive, yet the native person's inclination for grounding and self-fulfillment aren't broadly recognised as a formulation for endurance. With this placement, the native finds themselves as the springboard for the inequity of socioeconomic factors.

It is a touchy subject, a sensitive topic in which effects everybody. Yet when a native's own self belief aligns with their prospects and goals, a peacefulness and self-confidence will arise for who they are, helping them facilitate what they want to be and who they will be helping without intrusive and confining ideas for their OWN LIFE.

Taurus is an Earth Sign, ruled by the planet of all types love and money Venus. The 2nd house is our space, environment and materialsss. With respect, the native must cultivate these ideas without shame and with encouragement for themselves and to others. To question other people's shame for appointing such limitation to the society around us.

There is no greed in fulfilling yourself. There is no conflict in maintaining well-being, health and care. Why shouldn't we enjoy the fruits of our planet AND contribute back to our surroundings THRU our investments. We all make markets move, let us not create strife for basic needs, evolutionary pursuits of our sustenance and indulge harmonically.

To each their own! C'EST LA VIE. In whatever way, to be oppositional in the matters of this placement does not matter. Comme-ci, comme-ca! Let live and let go, be respectful. Love, love, love yourself. ❤️