#good friday 2017

[n0heart]

.

[girlson-film]

To the two ladies who sat behind me dissing It 2017 count your days

[multishipper-baby]

Since I already thought of birthdays for Jason and Rayray, I decided why not go through my OCs and give them all birthdays? And so I did.

[sobredunia]

Oh boy.

[pedroscurls]

secret crushes (one-shot)

summary: you've known hugh for years, having not only a personal friendship with him, but also a professional one. then, ryan decides to play matchmaker unbeknownst to you or hugh. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader word count: 4.5k warnings: this is complete filth bc how can you not look at that first photo and just be fine??? anyway - porn with little plot, unprotected p in v, public beach sex, seated cowgirl, oral - m receiving, light dirty talk, no use of y/n. a/n: this is for the anon who requested this spicy idea! i hope you enjoyed it as much as i did writing it. i haven't opened up my requests since 2017 (i think), but ya know, that might change after this lol. i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman! this is purely fictional.

“All expenses paid,” you hear Ryan say over the phone. “You deserve a vacation. Even Blake agrees.”

“Ryan, no,” you protest, beginning to clean up your small coffee shop for the day. When you opened your own coffee shop so many years ago, you didn’t expect that not only would it be great business, but that you’d be very close friends with Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman. 

“Oh, come on!” he says. “When was the last time you took time for yourself, hm?” 

There’s a silence that engulfs the two of you.

Before you can even speak, Ryan chimes in. “Exactly. You’ll have your own hotel room. You don’t have to spend the entire trip with us, though, we will be hurt if you don’t hang out with us, and–” he teases. 

“Okay, fine! Fine,” you huff. “I’m sure after Deadpool & Wolverine, you need some time for you and your family too.”

“Yeah,” Ryan replies. “I feel like I can be a good dad now.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “You’ve always been a good dad.”

“Eh,” he chuckles. “So, we’ll see you at the airport this weekend?”

“Sure.”

“Actually, we’re going to pick you up.” Ryan decides. “That way, I know for sure you’ll be coming with us.”

“God, you’re annoying!” you laugh. “Fine. I’ll see you and the family this Friday night. After I close up.”

“No, no. We’re leaving in the morning. Your coffee shop will be fine.”

“I know, it’s just–” you sigh, resting the phone between your ear and shoulder as you rearrange the bags of coffee on the display. Your mind drifts momentarily when you see the Laughing Man coffee beans, thinking about Hugh. “Nevermind.” 

“You think too much,” Ryan points out then his voice turns serious for a moment. “You’ll be okay. Your shop will be okay. In the time we’ve known you – Hugh and I – you’ve always been working, busting your ass.”

“I know,” you then move your gaze to the amount of photographs on your wall behind the counter. They are photographs that you’ve taken, candid ones of your employees, landscape portraits of the trips you’ve taken to find the best coffee beans, even personal photos of you and your family and friends, including Hugh, Ryan, and Blake. 

“So…” he says. “Pick you up Friday morning?” 

“Yes, Ryan. You can pick me up Friday morning. You’re very convincing, do you know that? You just never quit until you get your way.” 

“What can I say? I’m very persuasive.” He chuckles. “Okay, I’ll see you Friday. Have a good rest of your week. Call me if you need anything.” 

“I’m sure I’ll see you and Hugh before then,” you tease. “At this rate, all this free coffee I give you does amount to a free trip.”

“Exactly! Talk to you later.” 

—

You hadn’t spoken to Hugh in weeks, knowing that he and Ryan had been doing constant press conferences and interviews after Deadpool & Wolverine came out. You’d never admit it to either of them, but you did go out to watch the movie and it only fueled the crush that you had on Hugh. Especially that final scene. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t go home that night with thoughts filled of him. Shirtless and glistening. It was rather inappropriate, really. Not only did you and Hugh start out as friends, but you also had a partnership with him where he sells his brand of coffee at your coffee shop and takes a cut of what the sales make. It’s worked for years now and you never really looked at him in a way that was more than a friend or partner. You knew he was good looking, so sweet and funny, but it wasn’t until months after his divorce that you started to look at him differently. You had to wonder if he looked at you the same way because you started to notice how often he would come by when you were closing up to help you clean, or how his gaze on you would linger, his touches seemingly becoming more and more less friendly and more intimate. 

You’re already on the plane with Ryan, Blake, and the rest of their family. It never felt like you were the odd one out. Both Ryan and Blake always made you feel like you were part of their family. There were plenty of times where you and Hugh would babysit Ryan and Blake’s children while they were busy and always, they’d ask for Uncle Hugh to sing songs from The Greatest Showman. You were always right there next to him, singing and performing alongside him to entertain the kids. 

When you moved to New York, it was a big leap of faith. It wasn’t always easy, but Hugh, Ryan, and Blake made you feel less alone when there were times you weren’t sure you were ever going to make it out here. Now, you can’t even think of leaving New York. It has become your home. These people… They have become your family. 

You look up from your notebook to see Blake and Ryan staring at you, both with big grins on their faces. You can tell they were hiding something, so you shut your notebook and point at them.

“Okay, spill.”

Ryan feigns a gasp, palms raising up in surrender. “Can’t my beautiful wife and I stare at you lovingly?” 

Blake lets out a quiet laugh and rolls her eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re both really bad liars,” you point out. “What is it? Why are you both smiling at me like that?”

“We’re just happy that you’re finally taking some time to yourself,” Blake replies, moving to sit next to you. 

“You’re much more convincing than your husband,” you say loud enough for Ryan to hear.

“I take offense to that,” Ryan says. 

Blake turns to you and looks down at your notebook, tilting her head in amusement. “Even away from your coffee shop, all you can think about is how to improve it. Don’t you ever stop working?” 

“Never,” you laugh, opening your notebook for her to look through. “Fall is right around the corner, so I’m just thinking of a few specialty drinks that I can introduce for a limited time. I hear pumpkin spice is very popular.”

You and Blake stare at each other and then erupt into a fit of laughter, both of you shaking your heads. “Can you promise me one thing on this trip?” she asks.

“I can try.” 

“Try to have some fun, don’t think so much about work. It’ll be there when you get back. We’re in Hawaii for two weeks. Just–” Blake shrugs. “Be open and let loose.” 

You arch an eyebrow. “I feel like there’s a hidden meaning there somewhere.”

“Oh, there is!” Ryan nods, a grin lining his lips. “Or is there?” 

“The both of you,” you shake your head. “Are ridiculous.”

“Ah, but you love us,” Blake grins. 

“Unfortunately,” you tease. “But okay, I’ll do my best. No work. No thinking about work. I’ll try and focus on being in the present.” 

“Maybe you can meditate,” Ryan calls out. “You know, Hugh swears by it.” 

Hugh. The mere mention of his name makes your heart flutter and you subconsciously bite your lower lip. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Blake who tries to bite back a smile. 

“Yeah, maybe.” You stand up and then motion towards the bathroom, excusing yourself from both Blake, Ryan, and their kids. 

Blake then turns to Ryan and grins. She whispers very quietly. “I think it’s going to work.” 

“I sure hope so. Neither of them have any clue what we’re trying to do.” 

“You’ve seen it. I’ve seen it. They’re the only ones who haven’t seen it,” Blake says. 

“Oh, Hugh’s seen it,” Ryan winks. 

Blake chuckles. “Well, let’s see how this trip goes.”

“If it all goes well, they’ll be leaving together,” Ryan replies. 

—

You’ve been in Hawaii for three days now. You’ve possibly spent every moment with Ryan and his family since arriving. You didn’t mind though. Being in their company helped keep your mind away from work, away from the responsibilities that await you at home, away from Hugh. Today, though, Ryan and Blake want to spend the day at a secluded beach to allow their kids to roam free and have fun without worrying about possible paparazzi. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a deep blue bikini set – a halter triangle top tied at the base of your neck and back, and a cheeky bottom with side ties that rest on the side of your hips – with a white, long sleeve cover-up. You take a few pictures of yourself, wanting to send it to Hugh or even post it on social media, but you don’t. Instead, you turn off your phone and set it inside your bag before you leave your room to meet Ryan and the family. 

Throughout the entire ride to the island, Ryan and Blake can’t keep their eyes off of you. You busy yourself, though, with playing with their kids, hearing their laughter fill the car. You can tell they’re excited, jumping up and down in their seats as they talk amongst one another about the things they’ll do once they get to the beach. 

It isn’t until you all arrive at the beach and climb out that you notice another car in the lot. Ryan had mentioned before that it would just be his family and you, so you had to wonder if maybe he had gotten something wrong along the way of planning this. But if you were concerned about it, he certainly didn’t show it himself. Instead, he climbs out of the car and grabs the kids’ bags from the trunk before he and Blake motion for you to follow them onto the beach. Your toes hit the sand as you slide your sunglasses on your face. You tell Ryan and Blake that you’ll be at a distance, allowing them at least some time to spend with their kids without you and it gives you enough time to try and meditate. Maybe it will work, you tell yourself. 

You don’t see anyone else nearby and you’re at a good distance from Ryan and Blake, so you set down your towel and bag, removing your cover-up and sunglasses. You make sure to reapply more sunscreen before you walk towards the water. It’s cold and it causes a shiver to run down your spine, so you force yourself to dive in to get acclimated to the temperature of the water. 

The beach had always calmed you down, kept you grounded. It was one of the reasons why you had been so hesitant to leave your hometown of California. From one side of the coast to another. Once you come back up, you run your hands through your wet hair, slicking it back away from your face as you stand, the water only reaching your upper thighs. When you open your eyes, though, your jaw drops. 

Hugh is within a few arms reach as his eyes meet yours. The surprise look on his face tells you all that you need to know. 

He had no idea you would be here.

And neither did you. 

You can’t help but let your eyes take in his frame. His broad chest, water trickling down his frame, disappearing into the waistband of his black board shorts. He’s pulling his shorts up just a bit, but it gives you a good view of the v-cut he has and immediately, you’re aware of the feeling between your legs.

But just like you’re checking him out, Hugh’s also allowing his eyes to roam over your frame. The bikini you’re wearing is so tiny and tight around your frame. He tries to tell himself not to get excited at the mere sight of you, but it’s hard. He’s getting hard, so he does his best to think of other things that could lessen his excitement. 

Since his divorce, Hugh had taken comfort in your presence. What started out as a friendship turned partnership had blossomed into something else. Surely, you felt it too. Or at least that’s what he told himself. 

“Hello, you,” he calls out. 

The both of you begin walking towards each other, meeting in the middle as the waves crash around you. 

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” you say softly. Out of instinct, you reach out to give him a hug, warms snaking around his shoulders. This feels good, hugging him like this feels fucking great. You feel his hard chest and hair against you. He’s so wet, so slick and you just want to–

“I think Ryan may have forgotten to tell us both,” Hugh says, voice deep and husky against your ear as his arms wrap around your waist. Hugh shuts his eyes as he feels your breasts against him, his fingertips resting just above your backside and he feels his manhood stir awake. 

Quickly, Hugh pulls away, slowly lowering himself in the water to cover the growing erection between his legs and also to keep some distance between your bodies. You do the same, swimming further into the water as you both continue to float. 

“And Blake,” you add. “You think it was intentional? You ask, turning to look over your shoulder to see both Ryan and Blake staring at the both of you. 

Hugh looks over at them and lets out a quiet chuckle. “Dunno,” he answers. “But I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Me too,” you blush, heat rising in your cheeks. “How long– How long have you been here?”

“Three days.”

“Those fuckers,” you chuckle. “They totally set this up.”

Hugh laughs alongside you and tilts his head in amusement. He watches you closely, seeing you gnaw at your lower lip nervously (it’s something he’s noticed about you very early on). You bring your hand up to stroke your hair back away from your face and Hugh can’t help but smile to himself. He likes you. Really likes you and he knows that he shouldn’t act on it, knows that there should be some boundary, but he can’t help himself. 

“You nervous?” he asks quietly. 

“What?” you answer, looking up at him. “No…”

“You’re doin’ that thing you do,” Hugh points out. He gently reaches out and runs the pad of his thumb along your lower lip, causing you to release it between your teeth. 

“What thing?” 

“You know what thing,” he chuckles, slowly swimming closer to you. “You bite your lower lip a lot when you get nervous or when you’re deep in thought. So, you’re either nervous or you’re thinkin’ about somethin’. Which is it?”

“Neither,” you lie. 

Hugh narrows his eyes slowly and drags his thumb at the center of your lower lip and down to your chin until he hooks it in his grasp. “Now, I know you’re not someone who lies,” he begins, moving his thumb across your jawline. “Don’t tell me you’re lying now.”

“I’m both,” you blurt out, leaning against his touch. “I’m nervous and I’m thinking about something.”

“You’re always thinking about something,” Hugh points out. “Do I…” he asks hesitantly and drops his hand back into the water. “Do I make you nervous?”

“Right now you are.”

“Why?” 

“Because…” you whisper, looking deeply into his eyes. “One, we’re both basically half naked.”

“We’re at a beach,” he says with a small smile. “We’re in our bathing suits.”

“Half naked,” you correct. “And two, you’re just–” you stop yourself and drop your eyes to his lips then back up to gaze into his eyes. You then remember what Blake told you. Try to have some fun. Be open. Let loose. Now, you understand exactly what she meant by that. So, you let out a shaky breath and continue. “You’re just so fucking hot, Hugh, and yes, you’re making me nervous because you’re literally shirtless and wet, and you’re muscular and it’s just–”

Hugh’s laughter interrupts your rambling. You notice the way his nose crinkles upwards when the laughter comes deep within the pit of his stomach. Suddenly, you’re very aware that you just made a fool out of yourself and you gently shove him. 

“It’s not funny! You asked and so I told you. I was being honest!” 

“I’m not–” he sighs, his laughter dying down. “I’m not laughing at you, baby.” The term slips past his lips so effortlessly and he reaches out from underneath the water to grab a hold of your hip, pulling you to him. “I’m laughing because you think I’m hot to a point that you’re stuttering over your words. Have you seen yourself?” The smile remains on his lips and his thumb begins to rub circles at your hip. “Because if anyone should be nervous, it’s me.”

“You?” 

“Oh, come on,” he says. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that I’ve got the biggest crush on ya.” 

“Wait, you what?” your eyes slightly widen in surprise, but you can’t help the way your stomach flips in excitement. 

“I’ve got a crush on ya,” he whispers. “And I shouldn’t even be having crushes at this age,” Hugh chuckles nervously. “But I do. I like you.”

“You’re not joking?”

“Why would I be joking?”

“Because you can have literally anyone you want and–”

“I want you.” Hugh says, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. “Do you want me to?” 

“More than you fucking know, Hugh.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your lips against him. You sigh against him moving your legs to wrap around his waist underneath the water as you move your lips against his own. 

Hugh growls against you, both hands moving to your hips as he leans further into you, tilting his head to get a better angle of your lips. He didn’t realize this was how his trip was going to go. After Ryan convinced him to take some time off, especially after the success of their movie together, he was hesitant. He didn’t want to take time off. He was used to being busy, especially after his divorce, but Hugh had only agreed to come on the trip to figure out his feelings for you. 

He just didn’t realize that you’d be here too. 

In the distance, you and Hugh can hear a faint clapping and hollering. You both pull away to look over at the noise and see Blake, Ryan, and their kids jump up in excitement, cheering for the both of you. You see them wave in your direction before they begin to grab their things, making their way back to the parking lot. You then look at Hugh and gaze into his eyes.

“Are they leaving us? Leaving me?” You ask. 

“I can take you back,” Hugh says softly. 

You bite your lower lip and nod. “Only if it isn’t–”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if our hotel rooms are right next to each other,” Hugh chuckles, slowly then moving his hands down as he grasps your backside in his large hands, pulling you flush against him. His gaze darkens as he stares into your eyes. He thinks maybe he might have moved too fast, but when you roll your hips against him, he knows exactly what’s going to happen next. 

You want him just as bad as he does. 

“Hugh,” you whisper, voice laced with desire. “Please.” 

“Tell me, baby.”

“I need you.” You bury your face in the side of his neck and gently nip at his skin, feeling his hands move under you, his long fingers brushing against your core as it causes you to gasp. 

Hugh’s painfully hard against his board shorts and he lets out a low groan when he feels your teeth scrape against the skin at his neck. He feels you squirming against him, moaning into his ear and he has to pull away briefly to look into your eyes. 

“Are you sure?”

“If I have to say please one more time…”

“I don’t mind hearin’ you beg,” he winks. “Come on.” Hugh leads you out of the water and towards his towel in a much more secluded area. You drift from him for a moment to grab your things before following him, watching him lay out his towel before he takes a seat on it, legs spread wide. 

You bite your lower lip and lay out your towel in front of him, dropping to your knees as you crawl towards him until you're seated on your knees between his legs. “We won’t get in trouble, will we?”

Hugh shrugs, reaching down to cup your cheek. “Don’t think so. Ryan made sure that no one but us should be here and–”

“That’s good enough for me.” You lean down and move your hands to the waistband of his board shorts. He’s dripping wet from the water and you can see the outline of his length perfectly due to his shorts sticking to him. You hook your fingers into the waistband and slowly pull it down enough to see his length spring free. Hugh lets out a low groan of relief and reaches behind you to undo the knot at the base of your neck. Once loose, he watches your top fall open to reveal your breasts. He doesn’t have enough time to take in your newly exposed chest because your hand wraps around his base, soft lips grazing the head of his manhood. 

“Ah, baby,” he growls, moving a hand to your shoulder, gripping it tightly as your mouth wraps around his tip. Hugh shuts his eyes and tosses his head back, moving one hand to rest on the towel while the other remains on your shoulder. 

You look up at him, feeling an immediate possessiveness wash over you. He looks so beautiful like this, eyes shut, chest heaving, and at your mercy. 

You begin to stroke his base as your tongue swirls around his tip, lapping at his precum. His groans slowly become louder as you lower your head to take more of him, stroking his base when you realize you can’t take him whole. He’s larger than you expected, girthy and long, and it excites you. As you continue to stroke him in time with sucking his length, you feel Hugh’s hand move from your shoulder to the back of your head as his hips slightly lift itself. He pushes himself further into your mouth, feeling the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat repeatedly. 

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes opening to look down at you. God, Hugh can just come at the sight of you. Tears slightly stinging the corners of your eyes and your mouth stuffed full of him. What a beautiful fucking sight, he thinks.

Slowly, Hugh has to pull away from you because he feels the pit of his stomach tightening, searching for release. He lets out a low growl that reverberates through his chest and you lean up on your knees, licking your lips. Hugh reaches out for you and pulls you on his lap, hurriedly moving your bikini bottom to the side. He grasps his manhood and runs his tip along your length, feeling your wetness coat him with each movement.

“You’re wet for me?” he asks, eyes staring up at you. 

“Only for you.” you reply, eyes fluttering as you feel his tip slowly push into you. He releases his hold on his length and rests his hand on your hip, leaning down to press soft kisses against your chest before he moves onto a breast, flicking his tongue against your nipple repeatedly before he wraps his lips around it. 

You let out a loud moan, moving your hands to his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself onto him, your walls tight and wet sliding down his cock. You feel so full of him and he’s not yet fully in the hilt. The stretch is almost painful, but you’re so wet and throbbing that you have to stop yourself from slamming down onto him. 

“Oh god, Hugh,” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders as you move along his length, not yet allowing him to fill you to the hilt as your walls begin to make way for him. 

Hugh moves his lips to your other breast, eyes staring up at you. He wants more of you, needs more of you so he slowly lifts his hips, inching further within your depths. 

“Shit,” he groans, watching as his cock disappears into you completely. Hugh’s hands rest over your hips as you pull him closer to you, chests pressed against one another as you slowly roll your hips against his. “So fucking tight, baby,” he whispers against you, forehead resting on yours. 

“You’re–” you gasp, feeling his hair at the base brush against your clit as you continue your movements. “So big,” you moan, eyes falling shut. 

Hugh gently pecks your lips and takes a hold of your hips to guide you along his length. He watches you reach for his cowboy hat, placing it on top of your head and Hugh has to force himself to hold back his release. 

“You’re so hot,” he moans, allowing you to take control of your movements. Hugh can’t help the way your walls tighten around his cock – you’re so warm and wet, so inviting and tight. He knows he’s close, but he can’t– he can’t finish without you finishing first. 

“Baby,” Hugh whimpers, holding you flush against him in a tight grip. “Don’t– Fuck, baby, don’t move.” 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, hands moving to link at the base of his neck. “You can come, Hugh.”

“No,” he shakes his head, losing his resolve as your hips move forward and backward slowly. “You have to be first– Shit…”

“This won’t be the only time,” you say reassuringly, lightly pecking his lips. You then increase your movements, hips moving forward and backward at a faster pace. Hugh’s so deep in this position and you know you’re close, but you’re determined to have Hugh finish before you. 

“Sweetheart,” Hugh grunts. “Baby, I’m–” His eyes flutter shut as he lets out a loud groan, mouth slightly agape as his fingertips dig almost painfully into your hips. His release shoots inside of you, painting your walls as his manhood throbs within your depths. 

He’s still half hard and you take this moment to begin bouncing along his length, using your hand to reach down between you to rub your clit and Hugh’s eyes narrow. He pushes your hand away and rubs your clit with his thumb in a circular motion. 

Hugh feels possessive and almost animalistic at the sight of you using him to get yourself off. He can feel your walls begin to tremble and he’s still a bit sensitive, but you just feel so fucking good. 

“Come on, baby,” he coos, applying pressure to your clit. “I know you’re there. Come for me, sweetheart.”

That’s all it took. Your walls tighten around his length as your body trembles against him. Hugh moves his hand to wrap his arms around your waist, leaning up to press his lips against yours. He’s still inside of you, his length softening as the moment passes. 

You move your lips lazily against his, heavy breaths passing through the both of you as Hugh pulls back slowly. “Wanna head back to the hotel?” he grins. 

“Oh, hell yeah.” 

[buckets-and-trees]

Pull the String

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark and rough Nomad!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Word Count: 3.7k Summary: Friday, September 28, 2017. You have to live a normal life after meeting a larger than life figure. It's doable, and you're not stuck in summer dreams, but you do think of him from time to time. Another encounter in the Exiled Nomad Series.

Content/Warnings: explicit smut, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, kissing, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex, overstimulation, hint of praise kink, internal ejaculation, overstimulation, emotional unavailability, a broken Nomad who thinks he's fine but definitely is not

Author Notes: I wanted to finish this for your birthday proper, @stargazingfangirl18, but alas, only managed for birthday week. It's not a standalone, so it technically won't fit into your Birthday Bonenanza, but I did use a prompt from your list (bolded dialogue). Credit to @biteofcherry for helping me flesh out Mark from accounting a little bit.

You blinked and then read the text message again.

Something’s come up, sorry, have to cancel tonight.

It was only twenty minutes before Mark was supposed to pick you up for dinner.

A third date dinner.

YOU: Are you okay?

You typed and sent the quick text back.

You saw the three dots that indicated his typing, then they disappeared. You frowned. This was really unlike him. Mark had been nothing but reliable and a gentleman since you’d met him. He worked in the accounting firm on one of the other floors of your office building, and you had seen each other a few times at the coffee shop on the main floor in the morning. He was smart, funny without being a goof. You felt wholly normal around him.

And after having your world rocked on earthquake levels by Captain America over the 4th of July holiday, normal was what you wanted.

MARK: Everything’s fine, but we should probably call this off.

“What?” you couldn’t help actually exclaiming out loud.

You scanned up and down over your texts.

YOU: Did I do something wrong or misread the situation?

You really didn’t think that you had. In fact, you were sure of it, but you’d let him explain just in case.

It had been a few weeks, and the texts had ebbed and flowed naturally. After your second date last Sunday, you’d exchanged a kiss that had been modest but had enough heat to it that it left you starting to think about more. And last night the texts between the two of you had gotten a little spicier than any previous exchanges. Nothing vulgar, but flirty enough that you had shaved your legs and had been debating all day over what to wear.

In your silk robe, makeup finished, and hair nearly done, apparently you didn’t need to make any wardrobe decisions other than slipping into a comfy t-shirt and leggings now.

MARK: No, it’s nothing you did, and I hope we can just be friends.

Your jaw dropped and you threw your phone across the room.

Friends?

You abandoned your mirror, no need to finish getting ready at this point, and went to pick up your phone.

Fuck Mark.

But you opened your text thread with him one final time.

YOU: No hard feelings, if it’s over it’s over, and we can be cordial if we run into each other, but honestly I’m not looking for more platonic friends.

Run-on sentence aside, you felt good about the text after you hit send, and you promptly blocked Mark’s number and deleted all the texts.

And what you said was mostly true.

You actually could use some more platonic friends in this town you’d lived in for less than a year, but you weren’t looking to be friends with guys who did but then didn’t want to date you.

But well into your thirties, you were so used to and exhausted by the runaround of talking, of the dating apps, of the first dates that fizzled into nothings – first dates that you rarely even agreed to go on anymore because it usually turned out to be a waste of time with men who were too boring or too horny. For a moment Mark had been a breath of fresh air, normal and nice and endearing.

And apparently not worth the time and effort you had sunk into the beginning of the blossoming relationship either.

Even at that thought, you were glad you had already followed your self-imposed rule of deleting messages, because you already had the itch to go back and re-read, and so it was good you had removed that temptation. No need to torture yourself.

You turned on your favorite album, cranked up the music, and ordered delivery from your favorite Italian restaurant with tiramisu and extra garlic bread.

You would watch your favorite movie, indulge in your favorite food, and later put yourself to bed with another chapter of the spicy romance novel you were reading and a nice session with your favorite vibrator.

Fuck Mark.

The app said your dinner would arrive in thirty-five minutes, so you slipped into leggings and one of your old comfy t-shirts, and flopped onto the couch to wait, the song from the opening credits of the movie making you feel just a little bit better.

At this stage of life, it was just annoying that Mark had called it off. Make it through dates three and four and people your age were reasonably sure they were headed down the relationship road together. At least that’s how you operated. You knew yourself enough that you weren’t dating someone to try and figure out who you were like you maybe had at times when you were younger, trying to live up to some expectation of society. You were busy enough that your free time was precious, and so you didn’t go on frivolous dates. Most important, as seemingly everyone around you had peeled off and gotten married while you remained perpetually single, you had to figure out if you could be happy alone, and you’d spent time to figure that out and truly find happiness. It was lonely sometimes, but overall you had built a good life, put your time into things that really satisfied you.

When you realized you were more annoyed at having to start over again than over losing Mark, you sighed and realized that was both a good and a bad sign. Good because you clearly weren’t going to be hung up on Mark, but bad because he really hadn’t meant much – you’d just wanted him to.

A small ache in your chest resurfaced.

The person you did miss was Steve Rogers.

And you held no bitterness there – it had been so clear for both of you that it was a summer holiday fling – but you did have some leftover longing.

Who could blame you?

When The Avengers had come together in New York in 2012, you had swooned over Thor, but there was something so steady, charming, and trustworthy about Captain America down to the bone that your admiration had developed into quite the crush. You knew the parasocial relationship that you and the rest of the world developed with him over the years was synthetic. It was fun and harmless.

But then you had met the real Steve Rogers in the flesh – and spent time flesh to flesh with him over the Fourth of July weekend.

The days you spent with him had been both intense and surreal. You had context to who he was from history books and the public persona, but the man behind the shield was naturally and infinitely more than what screens, books, and social media could ever portray. It was clear that being in exile from his country and on the run from most of the world due to their signing of the Sokovia Accords had changed him. But as you talked and spent time together, you suspected that losing his freedom had also freed him in some ways from the burdens of expectation and the colossal mantle and responsibilities of being Captain America.

He hadn’t given up his sense of duty to still help when and where he could, but he could simply be Steve.

In the nearly two days and two nights you’d spent together almost constantly in each other’s company, you’d shared so much, talking over things that were both trivial and meaningful as the conversations evolved. You’d spent time in serene silence together as well.

All of that felt stolen out of the pages of a book on its own.

But then there had also been the sex.

So much super soldier sex.

Rough, intense, sensual, exquisite, and all-consuming.

All of it – the physical and emotional – had been more intimate than anything else you had ever experienced.

Logically you had also come to realize that the pure fact that you both knew the time was so limited and fleeting undoubtedly allowed both of you to suspend boundaries and open up in ways you wouldn’t have if it had been a more conventional coupling up situation.

Yet it didn’t take anything away from the memory of those days together.

Logically you also knew no one would ever compare to him, and you had been realistic about that.

But tonight you wouldn’t worry about letting your thoughts drift to Steve.

It was more difficult to think of the emotional, and so your mind diverted quickly to the physical.

The way he had looked at you, touched you, kissed you, pleasured you. The feel of his cock inside of you. His fingers and his mouth ripping more orgasms from you than…

“No,” you scolded yourself out loud and groaned. “It’s too early on a Friday night to be thinking about sex with Steve.”

Not that it did any good to say so.

You pressed your thighs together, feeling the ache the worst at your core.

No longer paying any attention whatsoever to the movie you had going on the tv, it was the doorbell ringing with your food delivery that saved you from the spiral of desperately horny thoughts you were caught in.

There were two bags deposited on your doorstep, and you snatched them both up eagerly. The larger brown paper bag was emanating some heat, so you opened the smaller one first, assuming correctly that it held your tiramisu. You snatched a spoon from your silverware drawer and went for a sweet, indulgent bite. A little spoiling before you turned to the savory feast.

That bite made you moan in satisfaction. You savored the way the cream was perfectly smooth and balanced with the coffee and liqueur-soaked ladyfingers.

Your doorbell rang again, and you rushed over to open the door, assuming the delivery person probably realized they had forgotten a precious part of your meal – likely the garlic bread, and that would have been a sin!

Spoon still in your mouth, you opened the door and then froze.

Wearing the same aviators and non-descript baseball cap, Steve Rogers stood before you, as if it hadn’t been nearly three months since your once-in-a-lifetime encounter.

This couldn’t be real.

And yet his aggressive grip on your hip as he backed you into your place and kicked the door closed behind him was irrefutable.

Your heart raced as Steve pressed you against the wall, his body flush against yours. Your spoon clattered to the floor. He discarded his sunglasses on the table by the door and then captured your lips in a searing kiss. His beard scratched your skin, a delicious friction that sent shivers down your spine. Your lips parted for the demands of his hungry kiss, and when he licked into your mouth, his tongue slid against yours slowly for a moment, and you knew he was tasting the sugary sweetness of the bite you’d just savored, savoring it himself.

When he finally broke away, you gasped for air. "Steve? What are you doing here?"

"I shouldn't be here," he murmured against your neck, his breath hot on your skin. "But I couldn't stay away."

Your mind reeled. This couldn't be happening. "Isn’t it risky for you to come back?"

Steve's thumb traced your lower lip. "Some risks are worth taking."

You melted into his touch, your body quickly abandoning reason. You yanked him closer by his shirt collar, kissing him fiercely. You removed the hat that was already askew on his head and tangled your fingers in his hair. It was longer now than when you'd last seen him. He groaned, lifting you effortlessly and carrying you to the couch.

Steve laid you down on the cushions, his body covering yours as he kissed a trail down your neck. His beard scratched deliciously against your sensitive skin, making you shiver. Your hands roamed over his broad shoulders, feeling the tight muscles beneath his shirt.

"I've thought about this so much since I left," Steve murmured against your collarbone. His fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your stomach.

You arched into his touch, desperate for more. "Me too," you breathed, that confession opening a dangerous door you had tried to keep closed inside of you.

Steve's hands pushed your shirt up, exposing your breasts. His eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you. Slowly, reverently, he lowered his head to take a nipple into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue made you gasp and clutch at his neck. He gave it a hard, long suck before letting his tongue swirl around your nipple again, laving at it as his hand kneaded the other. It was all you could do to moan, arch into him more, and hold onto him like a lifeline.

Steve kissed his way down your body, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your leggings, looking up at you with a nearly feral hunger in his eye, something dark that sent a thrill of both adrenaline and desire through you, and you lifted your hips because no one had ever looked at you with so much need.

Steve slowly peeled your leggings down, his eyes never leaving yours as he revealed more of your bare skin. You shivered as the cool air hit your exposed flesh, goosebumps rising on your thighs. Steve's large hands caressed up your legs, leaving trails of heat in their wake. He settled his broad shoulders between your legs, spreading you wide beneath him. He kissed the inside of your thigh, then nipped at your tender flesh, making you yelp, before he soothed it with his tongue and then another kiss, even softer than the first. Then he shifted, and you could feel his hot breath against your most intimate parts, already slick for him. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until he placed an open-mouthed kiss to you there, and you sucked in a breath.

"God, I've missed your taste," he growled.

Without warning, he licked a long, slow stripe up your slit, making you gasp and arch off the couch. His strong hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for him as he explored you with his tongue. He circled your clit teasingly before sucking it into his mouth, the pressure making you cry out in pleasure.

Steve's tongue was relentless, alternating between broad, flat strokes and precise flicks that had you writhing beneath him. He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them to stroke your inner walls as he continued his assault on your clit. The dual sensations quickly had you climbing towards your peak.

"Steve," you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair.

He hummed against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your thighs began to tremble as you teetered on the edge of orgasm. Steve redoubled his efforts, his fingers pumping faster as his tongue flicked rapidly over your sensitive bud.

With a cry, you came undone, your body shuddering as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. Steve worked you through your climax, lapping up your release until you gently pushed his head away, oversensitive.

But he growled and bit at the inside of your other thigh. “I’m not done eating my fill of this pretty cunt yet.”

You gasped at Steve's words, a fresh wave of arousal pulsing through you despite your recent orgasm. His blue eyes were dark with desire as he looked up at you from between your thighs.

"Steve," you breathed, torn between wanting more and feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of sensation.

He seemed to sense your hesitation. "Color?" he asked, his voice husky but almost gentle.

"Green," you replied. How could you deny him? This? When you assumed you would never see him again.

Steve's lips curled into a wicked smile. "Good girl," he purred, before diving back in.

This time, his tongue explored you even more thoroughly, dipping inside you to taste your essence before returning to your clit. He alternated between broad strokes and precise flicks, keeping you on edge. When he slipped two fingers back inside you, curling them to hit that perfect spot, tears were creeping up on you for the mingled overstimulation and ecstasy.

Your hips began to move of their own accord, grinding against Steve's face as he worked you towards another climax. The coarse hair of his beard rubbed deliciously against your inner thighs, adding to the overwhelming sensations.

"That's it," Steve murmured against your flesh. "Let go for me, sweet girl."

His words, combined with a particularly well-timed curl of his fingers and another hard suck on your clit, sent you careening over the edge once more. You cried out, your back arching off the couch as your second orgasm ripped through you, even more intense than the first.

Steve didn't let up, his tongue and fingers working you through the aftershocks until you were a trembling, oversensitive mess. Only then did he pull away, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before sitting back on his heels.

You lay helpless, trying to catch your breath. He leaned forward and caught the tears on your cheeks with strong swipes of his thumbs. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be ruined for anyone else.”

Your breath caught in your throat at Steve's bold declaration. The intensity in his eyes made you shiver with anticipation.

"I already am," you confessed softly.

Something flashed in Steve's eyes - possessiveness, pride, and a hint of vulnerability. He surged forward to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he devoured your mouth.

Steve's hands roamed your body, relearning every curve and plane. When he cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over sensitive nipples, you arched into his touch with a gasp.

"Please" you mumbled against his lips.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours.

You surged forward for another kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. "I need you inside me."

Steve groaned, his hips grinding against yours. You could feel the hard length of him through his jeans, and you ached to have him fill you completely. He sat back, quickly stripping off his shirt to reveal his chiseled torso. Your hands roamed over his muscled chest and abs, marveling at the perfection of his body.

As Steve unbuckled his belt and shoved his jeans down, you took the opportunity to remove your shirt fully, leaving you both gloriously naked. He paused for a moment, drinking in the sight of you laid out before him, flushed and wanting. His eyes raked over your body with such intensity that you felt more exposed than you ever had before, curves and scars and imperfections on full display. You felt yourself flush under his gaze.

You reached for him, pulling him down on top of you. The feeling of his bare skin against yours was electrifying. Steve captured your lips in another passionate kiss as he settled between your thighs. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your entrance, and you rolled your hips, silently begging him to take you.

Steve broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as he slowly pushed inside. You both groaned at the exquisite feeling of him stretching and filling you. When he was fully seated, he paused, but not long enough for you to adjust to his size. But the painful pleasure of it only fueled your hunger for more of him.

"You feel so good," he breathed, his voice strained, words hot against the crook of your neck. "So tight and perfect for me."

You whimpered in response, overwhelmed by the fullness and the intensity of having Steve inside you again after so long. Your fingers dug into his broad shoulders as he began to move, starting with slow, deep thrusts that had you gasping with each roll of his hips.

"Steve," you moaned, arching into him. "More, faster."

He growled low in his throat, picking up the pace. The couch creaked beneath you as Steve's powerful thrusts drove you into the cushions. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, changing the angle so he hit that perfect spot inside you with each stroke.

"That's it," Steve panted, his voice rough with desire. "Take all of me."

Your world narrowed to the feeling of Steve moving inside you, the sound of skin on skin, and the increasingly desperate noises falling from both your lips.

Steve's rhythm became more frantic, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force. The intensity of his thrusts had you clinging to him, nails digging into his back as pleasure built within you. Each powerful stroke sent shockwaves through your body, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Look at me," Steve commanded, his voice husky and strained.

You forced your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. The raw emotion you saw there – desire, possessiveness, and something deeper you couldn't quite name – took your breath away.

"I want to see you fall apart," he growled, never breaking eye contact as he continued to drive into you relentlessly. “I want to watch what only I can do to you.”

One of his hands snaked between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and circling it with the precision he perfected in the heat of July.

"Come for me," Steve commanded, his voice strained. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

His words and the relentless pressure on your clit sent you spiraling into ecstasy. You cried out Steve's name as your orgasm crashed over you, your inner walls clenching tightly around him. The intensity of your climax triggered Steve's own release. He groaned, burying himself deep inside you as he came.

For a moment, you both lay there, panting and trembling in the aftermath. Steve's weight pressed you into the couch, but you relished the feeling of being surrounded by him.

When both of you settled back into even breathing, he planted slow kisses along your jaw and blazed a trail back to your mouth. Cock still inside you, he kissed you slowly. Slow and unrepentant, in no hurry now, only drinking you in, and you let your hands stroke up and down his back, relishing in the impossible and stolen closeness.

You could survive a second encounter with this super soldier.

READ their next part/later that night: Put Me Back on My Shelf read more of the: Exiled Nomad Series

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[thyme-in-a-bubble]

a list of some autumnal movies/series 🍂

i am nothing if not an organised little goblin who can not stop themself from making a good list. this is just in case you want something with that fall vibe but can't think of any. just close your eyes and point somewhere on this little list, or even put the numbers in a generator and go with whatever the result is ♡

winter | spring | summer

🥧 ‧₊˚ ⋅ movies ⋅˚₊‧

nosferatu (1922) 

sabrina (1954)

the creature from the black lagoon (1954)

psycho (1960)

rosemary’s baby (1968)

the rocky horror picture show (1975)

halloween franchise (1978-)

friday the 13th franchise (1980-)

an american werewolf in london (1981)

dark crystal (1982)

a nightmare on elm street (1984)

ghostbusters (1984-)

ronja rövardotter (1984)

clue (1985)

princess bride (1987)

the witches of eastwick (1987)

elvira mistress of the dark (1988)

dead poets society (1989)

when harry met sally (1989)

ghost (1990)

the witches (1990)

death becomes her (1992)

hocus pocus (1993)

addams family values (1993)

interview with a vampie (1994)

the craft (1996)

the first wifes club (1996)

the scream franchise (1996-)

halloweentown (1998)

practical magic (1998)

you’ve got mail (1998)

the blair witch project (1999)

sleepy hollow (1999)

chocolat (2000)

amelie (2001)

the lord of the rings franchise (2001-2003)

scooby doo (2002)

school of rock (2003)

mona lisa smile (2003)

peter pan (2003)

pirates of the caribbean franchise (2003-2017)

north & south (2004)

pride and prejudice (2005)

the descent (2005)

just like heaven (2005)

the devil wears prada (2006)

the lake house (2006)

penelope (2006)

el orfanato (2007)

juno (2007)

ratatouille (2007)

bridge to terabithia (2007)

the edge of love (2008)

twilight (2008)

the curious case of benjamin button (2008)

julie & julia (2009)

jennifer’s body (2009)

dorian gray (2009)

coraline (2009)

true grit (2010)

the cabin in the woods (2011)

jane eyre (2011)

wuthering heights (2011)

perks of being a wallflower (2012)

the odd life of timothy green (2012)

hotel transylvania (2012-)

the conjuring franchise (2013-)

what we do in the shadows (2014)

the riot club (2014)

as above so below (2014)

john wick (2014-)

the age of adaline (2015)

the witch (2015)

far from the madding crowd (2015)

the edge of seventeen (2016)

paterson (2016)

20th century woman (2016)

the love witch (2016)

mary shelly (2017)

murder on the orient express (2017)

get out (2017)

a quiet place (2018 + 2020)

the guernsey literary and potato peel pie society (2018)

on the basis of sex (2018)

knives out (2019)

ready or not (2019)

the lighthouse (2019)

little women (2019)

the gentlemen (2019)

emma (2020)

ammonite (2020)

the dig (2021)

fear street trilogy (2021)

good luck to you, leo grande (2022)

the batman (2022)

fresh (2022)

bodies bodies bodies (2022)

mr malcom's list (2022)

totally killer (2023)

slay (2024)

🧦 ‧₊˚ ⋅ series ⋅˚₊‧

moomin (1990-1992)

twin peaks (1990-1991)

x files (1993-2018)

buffy the vampire slayer (1997-2003)

gilmore girls (2000-2007)

supernatural (2005-2020)

vampire diaries (2009-2017) / the originals (2013-2018) / legacies (2018-2022)

downton abbey (2010-2015)

the walking dead (2010-2022)

once upon a time (2011-2018)

american horror story (2011-)

teen wolf (2011-2017)

peaky blinders (2013-2022)

outlander (2014-)

how to get away with murder (2014-2020)

the magicians (2015-2020)

izombie (2015-2019)

poldark (2015-2019)

critical role (2015-)

stranger things (2016-)

ghost files / buzzfeed unsolved (2016-)

lucifer (2016-2021)

shadowhunters (2016-2019)

anne with an e (2017-2019)

the good fight (2017-2022)

riverdale (2017-2023)

manifest (2018-2023)

killing eve (2018-2022)

succession (2018-2023)

you (2018-)

a discovery of witches (2018-2022)

the chilling adventures of sabrina (2018-2020)

dickinson (2019-2021)

virgin river (2019-)

carnival row (2019-2023)

the witcher (2019-)

the umbrella academy (2019-2024)

sanditon (2019-2023)

good omens (2019-2025)

the haunting of bly manor (2020)

i’ll be gone in the dark (2020)

queens gambit (2020)

the great (2020-2023)

shadow and bone (2021-2023)

the nevers (2021-2023)

wednesday (2022-)

interview with the vampire (2022-)

vikings valhalla (2022-2024)

lessons in chemistry (2023)

my lady jane (2024-)

[onlydylanobrien]

Live from New York, It’s Dylan O’Brien!

The 33-year-old plays Dan Aykroyd in Jason Reitman’s Saturday Night, and he’s not sure he hit it out of the park. But he’s okay with that.

DYLAN O’BRIEN HAS led movies that grossed hundreds of millions of dollars at the box office. He’s shared the screen in a thriller with Michael Keaton (2017’s American Assassin), exchanged jokes with Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson (in 2013’s The Internship), been a long-running MTV teen heartthrob (in 92 episodes of Teen Wolf), voiced a Transformer (in 2018’s Bumblebee), and, hell, went toe to toe with Larry David while playing himself on Curb Your Enthusiasm. At 33, he’s accomplished a hell of a lot.

By the time we meet at Men’s Health’s New York City offices to chat on an early September Friday, I’ve already seen a lot of his work. I’ve always liked the way his relaxed demeanor on-screen fits with an undeniable movie-star look—and that holds true in his latest project, Saturday Night (in select theaters now and out nationwide on October 11), in which he stars as comedy legend and original Saturday Night Live cast member Dan Aykroyd; the movie is a depiction of the chaotic 90 minutes before the very first episode of SNL. But I wasn’t sold on his sheer determination—the pure conviction in his character—until I learned that, like myself, he’s a long-suffering fan of the New York Jets.

“I get psyched for the Jets,” he tells me, rocking a full beard, a T-shirt, and a pair of comfortable lacrosse shorts. As he finishes his thought, his eyes light up, but they maintain the slightest sense of eternal frustration behind them. “Even though it’s always like, Jesus Christ.”

Misfortunes of past football seasons aside, O’Brien is as hyped as he’s ever been for the season to come—he’s already done all of his fantasy drafts, though he feels better about some than others—but right now he has one potential problem: He’s going to be in Toronto, for the Toronto International Film Festival, on the night of the Jets season opener. But don’t worry, he’s got it figured out. Saturday Night’s premiere is on Tuesday, and his press schedule on Monday (when the Jets are set to play the San Francisco 49ers) concludes at 5:30 p.m.

“I’m like, I’m going to a pub. I’m getting out of the area, and I’m just going to sit and have some beer and watch the Jets on Monday night all by myself,” he says with a huge smile on his face. “It’s going to be awesome.”

It’s a relatable feeling—for most Jets fans, there’s no happier time than before the season starts, before the annual feelings of dread and doom start to set in. (The Jets would wind up losing to the 49ers, 32-19, in their Week 1 MNF matchup.) But, as Jets fans have learned so well to do over the years, we move on.

O’Brien has a long career behind him, but a long career ahead of him, too. In addition to his upcoming role in Saturday Night (which has earned strong reviews in the early goings), he’s also got the M. Night Shyamalan-produced Caddo Lake premiering on Max this month, and Anniversary, in which he stars alongside Diane Lane and Kyle Chandler, coming at some point in the near future. (It doesn’t currently have a release date.) O’Brien is the kind of actor who elevates the project he’s in, even when the project is already really, really good—but if there’s anything being a Jets fan says about someone, it’s that they know how to adjust, adapt, and bounce back. And in an industry as fickle as show business—which is put on full display in Saturday Night—that’s about as important a quality as any to have in your back pocket.

Ahead of the release of several of the biggest and most exciting projects of his career, O’Brien sat down with Men’s Health to discuss how he keeps himself sane and centered, prepping to play a comedy icon, and some of those casting rumors about him out there on the Internet.

MEN’S HEALTH: What kind of routines do you maintain for your mental and physical health?

DYLAN O’BRIEN: I don’t go to the gym. I’m not a gym guy, but that doesn’t mean I don’t exercise or train or anything. I would say I go in and out of that. I’m usually the type who’s either on a pretty consistent routine and trying to hit it hard and take care of myself for a period of time, and then I’ll let it go for a little bit. Some of that’s influenced by my schedule, too. When you go to work, it’s hard to keep up some kind of regimen. But when I’m home and I’m in between jobs, I’ve become a very domesticated individual. I love grocery shopping and cooking my own meals.

MH: What’s your favorite thing to make?

DOB: If I had to pick one thing, I love, to the soul, making a soup. It’s literally the first thing I’ll do when I go anywhere to settle in. Just a homemade chicken soup, with a chicken carcass, and get creative with the veggies.

MH: Do you have a mental health routine?

DOB: That’s typically what drives the eating and the exercising. I always feel best when I’m in a nice routine and taking care of myself. As I’ve gotten into my 30s, sleep is so important, and periods of laying off alcohol are so important. Just treating your body right and getting rest. I like to do a cold plunge session, and that’s very meditative for me. I’ll follow the simple program of “exhaust the body, relax the mind” when I’m going right.

“I was self-conscious that I DIDN’T LOOK LIKE HIM, that I DIDN’T SOUND LIKE HIM, that I thought people wouldn’t think me—Dan Aykroyd.”

MH: I totally understand the concept of using whatever levels us as therapy. Sometimes after work I just need to put the Yankees on and do absolutely nothing in order to fully detox and feel right.

DOB: That’s my soul. The Mets… obviously, baseball is a nearly every day thing. And even when the Mets are not going well, what’s soothed me since I was closely following them when I was a kid is [broadcasters Gary Cohen, Keith Hernandez, and Ron Darling]. Literally, even just throwing the game on in the background while I’m getting dinner ready and just listening to those guys talk baseball—that settles me to my core. I’m totally with you on that.

MH: Is watching sports your main way of decompressing at the end of a long day?

DOB: If it’s baseball season, yeah, nightly Mets is nice. If I’m working, I’ve been known to be on jobs and randomly be bingeing some reality show while I’m on it. It’s such a decompressor at the end of the day. I love reality TV.

MH: What’s your favorite?

DOB: Of all time?

MH: Yeah.

DOB: Well, it’s between Jersey Shore and Vanderpump Rules as far as the all-timers. I’ve been a longtime OG Vanderpump fan, pre-Scandoval, and I just think that show’s a masterpiece. And Jersey Shore is a masterpiece, too. I did a film, Ponyboi, that’s very Jersey-centric, and so I drilled all of the first four seasons of Jersey Shore. My whole routine for that movie, when I needed to decompress, was just working out and watching reality TV. I lost a lot of weight, too, for that movie, and I was just trying to make my little chicken breast, and eat my salad, and work out, and watch Jersey Shore.

MH: Let’s talk about Saturday Night. How would you describe your version of Dan Aykroyd?

DOB: It might be the thing most open to interpretation I’ve ever done. By that, I mean it really was just leaping out of the nest. I’m playing this real person, but [director Jason Reitman] had no intention of just copying the person coming in. He really wanted everyone to have their own spin on the person, which, if you’re overthinking it, can be tough to do because it can be very easy to do. If you’re like, I’m just going to watch my guy’s interviews and sketches, then you can kind of fall into imitation. As far as I know, I was just doing what I thought he was like. But I don’t fucking know. That instinct was that Jason was always telling me what to run with. He was big on not overpreparing, not overwatching things, and not impersonating. I’m curious to hear people’s take, because I don’t really know. I just went with my gut.

MH: Was there one signature quality of Dan you wanted to capture?

DOB: A very earnest intelligence—he’s so quick, it was exhausting. I would always say how exhausted I was, because I’m playing someone who’s way quicker than I am, and so I’m constantly operating at a speed I can’t operate at, because he’s so sharp and fast and he never fumbles and he never curses. He never bides time. You know what I mean?

MH: Absolutely.

DOB: He’s so precise with his improvisation and his comedic skills. I came away with such a larger appreciation than I even had for his genius. And he was so young—he was a kid. He was 23 on that first season of SNL. I never processed him as being too worried about too much, which was a funny contrasting energy to the very tense atmosphere of the film in the hour and a half before showtime. He’s so loose.

MH: It’s interesting you say that, because it’s something I totally clocked, too—Dan is kind of the calm part of a storm that includes people like Chevy Chase (Cory Michael Smith) and John Belushi (Matt Wood). How did you maintain that presence as the movie’s level head?

DOB: My way of achieving that, with permission from Jason, was to embrace this quality in myself that I didn’t originally associate to Dan—that I only then did after Jason pointed it out to me—which was to have an aloofness on set. I feel very relaxed in that space. In a way, I wasn’t too worried. But that comes with the caveat that I entered this process thinking I was so wrong for the part.

MH: Why did you think that?

DOB: I don’t know. I was self-conscious that I didn’t look like him, that I didn’t sound like him, that I thought people wouldn’t think me—Dan Aykroyd. And I guess it was an insecurity that I would be skewered for being miscast or something. But even with that insecurity, again, I’m still so happy to be there and, like, whatever, fuck it. I don’t care if that’s the response. I’m boned, but whatever. It’s great to be here and get to do this, and what a blast of a thing to get to be a part of. So, weirdly enough, that type of aloofness amidst other people having to handle some really tense stuff was what Jason was telling me to embrace.

MH: Have you met Dan?

DOB: No. Not yet. I’m supposed to meet him at TIFF. And apparently that will be both of our first times seeing the movie.

MH: That will be great.

DOB: There was a moment early on, when you go into something like this, you’re playing someone, you imagine that they might want to speak to you. They might be hell-bent on speaking to you, they might be crazy about getting their hands in it, or they might be totally hands off. And to hear that he was so not worried about it, if anything, was the first moment I was like, Oh, maybe we’re right. Because I would’ve met with him, too, but I also didn’t need it. I would have if he insisted. I’d be like, Of course—I’ve got to do that. But I vibe with the fact that he was like, no, let the kid go do it. That’s how I feel like I would react.

MH: What’s your favorite movie of his?

DOB: I was a big Blues Brothers kid. I did the Blues Brothers for my talent show in third grade. I was also a big Tommy Boy kid.

MH: I’ve loved a lot of the comedic stuff that you’ve gotten to do, including your Curb Your Enthusiasm guest appearance. What was working with Larry like?

DOB: Oh, it’s just a blast. He’s a Jets fan, too—I remember that was our first conversation we had. It was like I was just talking to a buddy, at [the popular TriBeCa bar] Walker’s, or something about the Jets. I’ve worked with a lot of comedians, and that space can be weird. The energy can be very overstimulating, and those personalities can tend to be really loud and competing. It can be a very odd atmosphere sometimes. Going to work with a guy like that… I was like, Who knows, he could be a fucking total narcissist tycoon, and he wasn’t. He couldn’t have been more generous, couldn’t have been quicker to laugh at someone else and let someone else have the spotlight. I couldn’t think more of the guy. He’s amazing.

MH: It’s been almost a decade since your accident on the Maze Runner set. When you look back at your recovery, how has that experience most impacted your life?

DOB: It was a life-changing incident. I’ve approached everything differently, you could say, particularly with regards to standing my ground on set. It’s very commonplace in the culture for young actors to be controlled, and the way they strive to do that is by always being like, Oh, don’t become difficult. Don’t be a pain in the ass. Or Are you complaining, are you being difficult? Things like that. I learned after the accident to not conflate taking care of yourself and looking after yourself. Don’t let them manipulate you into thinking that is being difficult, because I can look at that day and know I was a 24-year-old kid who was raising concerns about how we were approaching things, and they were not listened to, they were not respected. And then what happened happened. And by all accounts, it was all pretty gotten away with, I would say, as well. It’s taught me that, at the end of the day, in these spaces, you have your own back, and that’s the most you can rely on. I just turned 33. I’ve been doing this for 15 years. I know the person I am, and the character I bring to set, and the way I treat people and the way that I treat a workspace, and I know I’m not difficult. I know I’m not an asshole. I know I was trying to protect myself that day, and so I’ve just never forgotten that. That’s always rung true as being the thing to hold with me.

“It’s taught me that, at the end of the day, in these spaces, you HAVE YOUR OWN BACK, and that’s the MOST YOU CAN RELY ON.”

MH: And this is something that’s always in the back of your mind, just knowing that you’ve had this experience and it’s shaped where you are now.

DOB: It helps me. It’s a shame. It’s a shame that it had to be that for me. To build this armor for myself of just being like, No, man, I’m going to look after myself, I’m going to take care of myself, and there’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with asking questions. There’s nothing wrong with bringing ideas, even if we’re talking creatively. It’s our job to bring ideas. There’s nothing wrong with raising concerns. There’s nothing wrong with being like, “I think we could do this better, I think we could do this differently.” You know what I mean? That’s the process. It’s a collaborative process. It’s a creative process, but also you’re dealing with big dangerous shit sometimes, too.

MH: Throughout the years, you’ve been rumored to become the Flash and Spider-Man. Is there any truth to the rumors?

DOB: No, never.

MH: Nothing?

DOB: No, none of it. Yeah.

MH: Is that of interest if an opportunity ever came up? Are you a comic book person?

DOB: I never have been. But I wouldn’t rule out anything. Certainly, it’s not of interest to me as of now. Maybe when I was 20 and they were rebooting Spider-Man—I was excited about that. But I didn’t even get past the casting pre-call or anything. No, none of those rumors have ever been true. I didn’t even know there were rumors. I just thought they were people just putting it out there.

MH: People put a bunch of stuff out there and then places pick it up and then stuff snowballs.

DOB: None of anything I’ve ever read about myself is true. So, if you want to use that template, that’s my experience.

MH: So what is of interest to you? What’s your dream?

DOB: There are obviously filmmakers I’ve loved since I was a kid who I would love to work with. I always want to challenge myself, and I always want to go with my gut and trust when I respond to something, I’m responding to it for a reason. Trust that when I’m scared of something, maybe that’s a good thing I should lean into. Try to find the new filmmakers, and try to champion them, and be a part of the early parts of the careers of our new wave of filmmakers. Try to champion original things as much as I can, too. I feel like that’s obviously trending so much further and further away, and towards extinction, that I just feel like it’s important to lend yourself to those things when you can, as much as you can.

This interview has been edited for content and clarity.

Source: menshealth.com

[colubrina]

How I Got My Agent, Take Two

I’m so ridiculously over the top happy to say I’ve signed with a literary agent to sell my magical bookbinder book.  This has been a long process that started in 2017, and I’m genuinely overjoyed.

It played out thus:

Write book one.

Write book two. Query the book.

Write book three. Query the book.

Write book four. Get into Pitch Wars with the book. (Yay!) Query the book.

Write book five. Get into Author Mentor Match with the book. (Yay!) Query the book.

Write book six.

Write book seven.

Write book eight.

Write book nine.

Get a Revise and Resubmit offer from an agent for book five. Do it.

Start querying book six.

Get an offer from the R&R (Yay!)

Write book ten.

Book five dies on submission.

Start writing book eleven.

My agent and I amicably part ways.

Start writing book twelve.

Finish querying book six.

Query book ten.

Start writing book thirteen.

Go back to book eleven.

Go to a live pitch event. Pitch book eleven to two agents. Neither likes it. One asks what else I’m working on, and when I do the one sentence pitch for book twelve, says, “I could sell that.”

Pivot to finishing that book.

Query book twelve, sending queries first to four agents who only want queries and who are actively requesting off those queries. Get a 75% request rate. Query is fire. Check.  Unfortunately, every agent rejects when they see the opening pages, which turn out not to be fire.

Revise opening

Resume querying book twelve.  In case you’ve lost count, while this is the twelfth book I’ve written, it’s ‘only’ the seventh I’ve queried.

Finish drafting book thirteen in NaNo. Revise. Send to CPs.

Have existential crisis on a Tuesday. Meltdown on Tumblr. Weep in my living room. All my books have failed.  I do not know how to write a better book.  Maybe I should give up. This turns out to be a very well-timed dark night of the soul within the narrative.

Get two full requests for book twelve on Wednesday.

Get an email telling me one of my short stories has been held for consideration on Thursday.

On Friday get an email that the woman who handles submissions for one of those agents from Wednesday loved the book but she doesn’t think it’s a great fit for the agent I queried.  Would I mind if she forwarded it in-house to a different agent?  In shocking news, I would not mind this. 

On Monday, get an email asking for a call.

On Wednesday, which is Valentine’s Day, have a call with the agent.  She’s lovely in every way, her thoughts on the book are so good, every editorial idea she floats is good. Like, really good.  She is super enthusiastic about repping the book and offers to do so.

There is an etiquette requirement at this point that I tell any agent who has the book that I have an offer on the table and give them two weeks to respond, so I go around nudging all the agents with a full (four people) and several agents who only have a query. Three more agents request fulls. The rejections start trickling in.  People are very sweet and complimentary, and I am deeply, deeply relieved that I never waver from how much I adore the original offering agent.

I sign with her on February 29.

Final stats for Book Twelve (THE ARCHIVE OF THE WORLD):

Total Queries Sent:  39 Requests Before Offer: 8 (20.5% request rate) Request Rate Including Post-Offer Requests: 28.2%

Year I Started this Nonsense:  2017 Total Queries Sent across 7 books:  456

Takeaway wisdom:  The query trenches are a soul-mangling machine into which we all keep putting our souls and most of us don’t make it out unmangled.  I am not unmangled. BUT, I am a persistence hunter, and I will walk steadily towards publishing until it lies down in exhaustion and gives up.

Thanks for hanging out with me as I do.

Also, this book is so much fun.  You’re going to love it.

[boobabietch]

Chapter I: "From College Phenom to WNBA Superstar: The Victoria O’Hara Story" | Diana Taurasi x OC

Warnings: Kinda narcissistic, kinda obsessed Victoria (excuse my girl she just wants to do good)

A/N: first chapter baby let’s fucking goooo, I’m so so excited about this series and I cannot wait for you guys to read it. As always English is not my first language so if you see any mistakes (I wrote this super high so there’s probably some) please let me know so I can change them asap, comments are highly appreciated, please let me know what you think! My ask box is always open too. Love Sof :))

Making headlines masterlist

There’s a funny thing about being a woman in sports, and it’s that being good is not enough.

When I was first drafted to the W, my back was in agonizing pain, breaking under the weight of everyone’s expectations. Having an excellent college career made the country ache with the need to see me play with the big dogs, some rooting for my success, but most of them patiently waiting for my imminent downfall. I struggled; climbing up that fucking hill was hard. But everything became easier once my mind was blinded with rage, and that anger had a name: Diana motherfucking Taurasi.

Growing up she was everything I aspired to be. She made it all look so easy, so effortless, and I wanted that. And the thing is, I’m not an aggressive person, not even a bad one. I bake for my teammates every Friday, I have friends all over the league, little girls want my shoes after the games and their grown fathers want my ass, teenage girls even write about me on Tumblr, for fuck's sake! I am perfectly fine!

Until that fucking game.

May 19, 2017

My rookie season. We faced Phoenix for the first time. The air was thick with anticipation, and I couldn’t shake the feeling in my gut that nobody on that arena came to see me.

There she was.

Diana was there, larger than life, owning the court like she owned the entire damn league. And the truth was, she did.

I knew this moment was coming, but nothing could’ve prepared me for actually standing across from her. She locked eyes with me during warm-ups, her face impassive, like I wasn’t even worth her time. I looked around and every person was the same, nobody really came to see me, not even my team. That’s when I realized that being good at the game it’s not enough, you have to play another type of game if you want people to see you, and I was determined to make them beg for more of me.

That was all it took. I felt something rise inside of me, a mix of insecurity and pure terror, and from that moment, the only thing I wanted more than winning was beating her. Proving her wrong.

And that’s where all the shit unraveled.

It wasn’t just the basketball. It was personal. Every shot I took, every time I drove the lane, I wasn’t just thinking about the score, I was thinking about her. The way she moved. How her voice echoed through the arena when she barked orders to her team. I hated how much I was drawn to it, to her.

My teammates tried to talk me down, “Vico, chill you’re obsessing,” Sydney said. But they didn’t get it. Diana Taurasi was my benchmark, my North Star. My fire, I wanted what she had and in order to get it she was the one to beat. Every game after that I took it as duel, a fight for dominance. I was determined to make her see me, to make her acknowledge that I wasn’t just some rookie passing through, because if she knew that, then everybody would know that I was Victoria fucking O’Hara, and I was coming for the crown, her crown.

And I was doing a hell of a job:

"Rising Star: Victoria O'Hara Leads All Rookies in Scoring and Rebounds"

"WNBA newest princess? O’Hara’s Rookie Season Proves She’s a Force to Be Reckoned With"

"Victoria O’Hara Makes Waves: Record-Breaking Rookie Season Captivates Fans and Analysts"

But it never seemed to be enough, until…

July 7, 2017

It was after another grueling game. We lost by three points, but I played the game of my life. I was exhausted, mentally and physically, slumped on the bench, trying to catch my breath. And someone towered over me.

Someone I was very aware of.

“Not bad, O’Hara. Keep it up, and you might actually be a challenge someday.”

My stomach twisted.

I stared at her for a weirdly amount of time, unsure how to respond. Hell, was she mocking me? Or was this some twisted form of respect?

Before I could think too much, I snapped back:

“Someday? I’m already a problem for you.”

Fuck, that sounded way harsher than I intended.

I saw her look at her shoes, clicking her tongue before staring at me again, a smirk plastered in her face begging to be slapped it out “Of course you are”

And that’s it. She left.

July 30, 2017:

We were playing again, and the tension was unbearable. Everyone could feel it. Diana was all over the place, controlling the game like she always did, like she owned it. But this time? I wasn’t letting her have it. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of thinking she still ran the show. I needed this moment. I needed to prove myself. To her. To everyone.

Then, in the third quarter, it happened.

I saw her coming. Her eyes were locked on me like a damn predator, and I wasn’t backing down. I made a drive, quick and sharp, cutting to the basket with everything I had. I was going to score, but she had other plans. She slammed into me, body on body, knocking me off my path like I was nothing. I hit the floor hard, my elbows burning from the impact. The whistle blew, and I stayed down for a second, rage boiling under my skin.

"Get up," she muttered, standing over me like she owned the place. "You’re gonna need more than that to take me down, rook."

The audacity. I pushed myself up, heart pounding in my chest, glaring straight at her. I was chest to chest with the legend, staring into her eyes, and for the first time, I wasn’t intimidated. I was pissed. “You think you’re untouchable? Just fucking wait.”

She smirked, like she’d heard it all before. Like she didn’t even have to try. "I don’t think, O’Hara. I know," she spat back, her voice dripping with arrogance.

That was it. That was the moment I snapped. "Oh, you’re just a fucking bitch, aren’t you?" The words flew out before I could stop them, and I shoved her, hard.

The arena erupted in chaos.

Before I knew it, she was lunging at me, ready to push me back. But our teammates were faster, grabbing us before we could even make contact. I could feel my heart pounding in my ears, my fists clenched, ready to throw. But the second I tried to break free, I was held back by a wall of arms pulling me away from her.

It took four players to hold me back. Four.

Diana wasn’t any better off. Her teammates were holding her down too, but I could see it in her eyes. She wanted this fight as much as I did. There was fire there, the same fire I felt burning inside me. She wasn’t just here to win; she was here to prove a point. But so was I.

We both struggled against the hands holding us back, trying to break free, trying to get at each other. My muscles ached with the effort of pushing forward, but no matter how hard I fought, it wasn’t happening. I could almost feel the impact of my fist hitting her. The unfinished fight burned inside me, an itch that couldn’t be scratched.

I didn’t give a shit about the cameras or the refs. I didn’t care about the technical they were about to call. All I cared about was making her feel this rage, this fire that she had sparked inside me. I wanted her to know that she wasn’t untouchable. That I wasn’t just another rookie.

Finally, the refs managed to pull us apart, forcing us to opposite sides of the court. My chest heaved with adrenaline, but I wasn’t done. I looked back at her, catching her eyes one more time. That damn smirk still on her face. But I knew she saw me now. I knew she felt it too.

The fight wasn’t over.

That was the moment I realized. Diana Taurasi wasn’t just another player to beat. She was the one. The one I had to take down. And maybe, just maybe, she’d finally met someone who could.

Fucking Diana.

"Rivalry Ignites: O’Hara and Taurasi Get into Fiery Altercation During Friday Game"

San Antonio Stars Victoria O’Hara Adidas Grey and Black Edition Player Jersey | SOLD OUT

Requests are Open!

Massterlist

[brinconvenient]

This is a long tale, but I appreciate you taking the time to meet my friend Chris and help her out if you can.

TL;DR: my friend, an elderly queer woman I met when she was homeless just lost everything she owns in a fire at her first permanent home she had after becoming unhoused. Luckily, she and her cat were not home at the time. Please help if you can by donating or boosting.

This is a queer elder who needs our help. I'm hoping tumblr can come through for her

https://www.gofundme.com/f/fire-took-chris-baileys-home-they-need-help

Here's the long tale:

A friend of mine just lost everything except herself, her cat and the clothes on her back to a fire at her apartment (her first after being homeless for years) on Friday. We learned yesterday that nothing from her apartment is recoverable. Please help!

(Long post with cute cat pictures behind the readmore)

I met Chris one Sunday afternoon after driving past her three times as she sat on a bench outside our local library after closing. I stopped to ask if she needed a ride, and found out that she was homeless, staying in motels when her SSI came in and on the street when it ran out.

As the years have passed, I've learned a lot about her. Despite her parents kicking her out at 17 when she was outed to them as gay, she went back to school and became a social worker, working in several Chicago hospitals through the 80s and 90s, and, like a lot of queer women in the caring fields at that time, tended to and provided comfort and care for (among others) so many gay men, young and old, living with and dying from AIDS, from the earliest days of the disease through the availability of the triple cocktail and to the brighter days of hope.

Through it all, she had relationships with women in a time where that was something that wasn't always safe to do. Some were good, some bad, and some resulting in her losing nearly everything, but she struggled through. She quit social work in 99 or 2000 when her mom got sick and passed away, and then stayed out of the workforce to care for her dad until he passed in 2006. Those experiences impacted her deeply, and she became permanently disabled during that period, leaving her living on SSI, and struggling with her own mental health. She eventually lost her condo, and bounced in and out of apartments and motels.

When I met her in Sept 2019, I helped her get back into the motel she'd been staying at and bridging her to her next check and then making sure that she could stay there, and reliably get her maintenance meds and start rebuilding her life and credit.

This is her and everything she owned as we left her hotel room for the final time on Valentine's Day 2022.

The cat there is Bailey, her constant companion since they adopted each other in September 2021. They've both been through a lot and are absolutely the picture of "Who rescued whom?"

We started having biweekly dinners and I worked with her creditors and tried to get her credit score back into a good place, and helped her get banked and fixed up with access to the Internet and just help her feel more solid and stable in her life.

Just over 2 years later, in February 2022, we were finally able to get her into a senior independent living apartment, her first permanent home since about 2017. She had no furniture, but with some secondhand pickups and occasional pickups, we got her something resembling a home.

It wasn't perfect, and she had her grumbles, certainly, but it was her home. It was a place that she could launch from to recover and consider moving some place even better, if she chose.

However, Friday, July 14, Bailey had an afternoon vet appointment. Everything was fine when we left, but when we got home, with Bailey in a carrier in the backseat, we were shocked to see what looked like a million emergency vehicles & a whole lot of seniors sitting on the grass.

Chris and Bailey came with me to take my daughter into the city that evening, giving the situation 2 hours to develop and for us to get more information. We heard a few newsradio updates and saw this story on abc7, getting the sinking feeling that that balcony looked too familiar.

When we got back from the city, we were able to drive around the back of the building and confirm that this was her apartment.

We were able to get back to the building on Tuesday and get into the apartment to get her medications, but everything is water damaged from the sprinkler system (with all of its stagnant water) and the firehoses. All her furniture. All her clothes. Her bed. Her degrees. Gone.

Everything she owned is gone. She literally owns less now than when she was homeless. She's despairing and trying her best to keep it together, but she's lost so many homes in her life, going back to when she was 17 and her parents found out she is gay and kicked her out.

This all feels like too much. Please help. Please donate what you can, and share where you're able.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/fire-took-chris-baileys-home-they-need-help

[sofs16]

perceval shark

charles! fake photographer x singer!reader

HEY! i know that may sound alarming as he is a fake but its quite silly… i think… im about to write it so enjoy <3

— just finished writing; not proofread at all

yn.yln

liked by charles_jpg, and 10,484,393 others

yn.yln hi friends! im currently looking for a photographer to join me on tour for the next month since my cousin (usual photographer) got injured and can’t travel:( send me a message or email in my bio and ill send more deets:) thanks a lot!!! 💌

view all 2,484,393 comments

ynsphoto will she acc reply to like millions of people tho 😭

⤷ yn.yln i really am trying but my instagram dms are glitching now 🫠 my team and i have replied to most of the emails tho:))

july 31, 2023

— mail app, you’ve got 16,483 inbox!

INBOX

From: Charles Perceval >

To: Yn Yln >

July 31, 2023 at 4:18

Hello, Yn!

If you are still in need of a photographer, I would love to help out!

Though I have no real experience aside from taking pictures of my friends, I have a large passion for music as you do.

I hope to hear from you:)

P.S Here is a link to some of my work. Have a good day:)

All the best,

Charles Perceval

NEW EMAIL

To: Charles Perceval >

From: Yn Yln >

Subject: reply asap pls :))

July 31, 2023 at 11:01

Hey, Charles!

I’ve really spent quite a while being mesmerized at your photos and I would loveeee if you could come with us on tour this month!!

The notice is quite short but the schedule would be August 4 to August 28 with us circling Europe. Let me know if there’s any issues and we could work around it:)

Hope to hear from you as well.

All the love,

Yn Yln 🤍

To: Yn Yln

From: Charles Perceval

July 31 at 16:22

Hello, Yn!

I am so glad! There may be a minor issue but could maybe we could talk about it on Instagram.

Would that be alright?:)

All the best,

Charles

Charles Perceval

charles_jpg • Instagram

12 Followers • 83 Posts

Following you since 2017

yn 💌

i must say, the 12 followers and private account is very sketchy, perceval 🤷🏻‍♀️

Charles Perceval

Hello Yn! Why are you judging me on my followers 😂

yn💌

NO IM NOT

im just saying i hope you dont rob me when we meet in real life 😔

Charles Perceval

Thank you for the trust in me. But I would not do that to you😁

yn 💌

sigh.. i guess it’s my fault if i end up dead in a ditch… ANYWAYS!

are you free to meet tomorrow 😁

Charles Perceval

Where exactly?

yn💌

Where are you now?

Charles Perceval

Spa

yn💌

you’re.. in a spa?

Charles Perceval

No! Spa, Belgium

yn💌

that one was NOT on me! But perfect the first stop there is actually Belgium! I can go there if it’s not a problem for you?

Charles Perceval

It is no problem for me:)

yn💌

Charles, don’t take this personally or rudely, but how old are you?

Charles Perceval

26 This October

yn💌

alright! just making sure youre not an old man😁

Charles Perceval

Aw, thank you.

yn💌

my manager will send more details, thanks charles and see you tomorrow:)

charles.jpg

Follow Requests

f1babes + 5,383,292 others

yn.yln has requested to follow you. 1m

confirm | delete

yn.yln

belgium

liked by charles_jpg, and 8,018,382 others

yn.yln i may look fine but i have been hiccuping for the last 2 hours i fret i am getting a six pack

view all 1,198,292 comments

ynsbabe i bet if u turned it to a sing, it’d be a bop

⤷ yn.yln too emotional to turn it into a song

august 2, 2023

yn.updated

liked by 2,483 others

yn.updated yn.yln just landed in Belgium where she will be performing for the first time this Friday!

view all 318 comments

liviesyn streets say she went to dinner with a guy 💔😭😭😭😭😭😭

⤷ ynsday chill. she can have guy friends

⤷ author not this one 😅

august 2, 2023

ynshit

liked by oliviarodrighoe, and 16 others

ynshit NOT WHAT I EXPECTED EMAILING THIS MAN.

view all 10 comments

oliviarodrighoe cant believ u didnt know charles leclerc THATS SO SO SUTPID IM LAUGJGING

⤷ ynshit HE SAID PERCEVAL DUMBASSSSS

⤷lauflaufey if he said leclerc would you have known anyway😭

⤷ ynshit 🙂

⤷ oliviarodrighoe how did you even find out

⤷ ynshit HE TOLD ME BCUZ HE’S LIKE A SHIT LIAR (thank you very much)

reneewrap did you hire him anyways

⤷ ynshit yes… MAN IS RICHER THAN ME THO

⤷ oliviarodrighoe HAHAHAHAHAHA

⤷ ynshit fuck you

⤷oliviarodrighoe or…

⤷ ynshit STOP

august 3, 2023

charles_jpg

yn.yln has requested to follow you. 4d

confirmed | decline

— instagram notification!

• yn.yln has followed charles_jpg and charles_leclerc!

charles.jpg

liked by yn, lando.jpg, and 7 others

charles.jpg Thank you, Lewis for the camera 😘

view all 10 comments

lewis.jpg Anytime mate! yn yes, thank you lewis hamilton

[liked by charles.jpg]

august 3, 2023

ynswife

liked by 10,483 others

ynswife what do you MEAN yn followed charles leclerc on his main AND jpg acc which NO ONE ELSE BUT THE GRID AND HIS FAMILY FOLLOWS. view all 3,485 comments

ynsferrari bro has been liking all of yns posts since 2015 with that acc 😭😭😭😭

august 3, 2023

yn.yln

tagged: charles_leclerc liked by charles_leclerc, and 14,393,292 others

yn.yln belgium 🤍 got a special guy with us too

view all 3,696,607 comments

charles_leclerc Sooo excited for this month! ⤷ yn.yln bring it on, perceval;)

maxverstappen1 🎉

taylorswift Gorgeous! ⤷ yn.yln i told u guys that song was abt me

august 3, 2023

charles_leclerc

tagged: yn.yln liked by yn.yln, and 2,293,596 others

charles_leclerc London 😎📷

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yn.yln youre so talented, perceval:,) you make me like my smile

⤷charles_leclerc Haha thank you, ynn. You have an pretty smile to begin with! ⤷ lestappen1661 I can hear the church bells

charles1166 no because the way charles always captures her best moments like the happiness in the first slide and how she’s literally a star on the 2nd 😭

august 6, 2023

FERR4RI.YLN

liked by 3,282 others

FERR4RI.YLN “you make my like my smile” “you have a pretty smile to begin with” OH ITS OVER FOR US

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ylnleclerc MOM AND DAD

august 6, 2023

yn.yln

tagged: charles_leclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, and 7,383,494 others

yn.yln my turn to jpg 🤭

view all 3,585,922 comments

charles_leclerc Loving the first slide ❤️

⤷ yn.yln thanks!

oliviarodrgio ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹❣️❤️💗💟😘

⤷ yn.yln fuck off. f1rraris yn sitting with charles on the plane😭 his whipped smile😭 them eating together😭 the heart emoji😭

august 8, 2023

yn.updated

liked by 18,493 others

yn.updated yn sings unreleased song “slut” at monaco soundcheck today?!?! some lyrics :

• “got love struck, went straight to my head”

• “and if they call me a slut you know if might be worth it for once”

• “everyone wants him that was my crime”

• “i break down then he’s pulling me in. in a world of boys, he’s a gentleman”

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chleclercs bye. august 10, 2023

yn.yln

liked by charles_leclerc, and 9,193,492 others

yn.yln monacoooo!!! thanks for being so kind to me and charles:,)

august 10, 2023

yn.yln

monaco

liked by charles_leclerc, and 11,737,292 others

yn.yln a day in shark lerklerk’s life

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lewishamilton shark lerklerk

⤷ maxverstappen1 shark lerklerk

⤷ fernandoalo_oficial shark lerklerk

⤷ pierregasly shark lerklerk

⤷ landonorris shark lerklerk

charles_leclerc 🤦‍♂️

⤷ yn.yln💆🏼‍♀️

cru3lsumma entering gf yn time.

august 11, 2023

ynshit

liked by oliviarodrighoe, and 8 others

ynshit this isnt funny im ac down bad. ITS BEEN LIKE 10 DAYS

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oliviarodrighoe MATCHMAKER ERA 🙋‍♀️

august 11, 2023

sharkie !!❤️

ynn💗

sharkie! wana dinner 2nite 🎉

sharkie !!❤️

Of course! Where should I pick you up? :)

ynn💗

my my what a gentleman

at the hotel we’re staying in🤷🏻‍♀️

sharkie !!❤️

see you:)

ynshit

liked by 11 others

ynshit HE LET ME EAT IN HIS CAR. …… 🙂

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laufey oh she’s whipped! oliviarodrighoe LALALALALALAL HELLO?

august 11, 2023

charles_leclerc

liked by 7,282,595 others

view all 1,201,833 comments

charlec11 the random an posting no caption is so bf

yn.yln wait. why do i look snatched here.

⤷ charles_leclerc You most certainly are ;)

⤷ f1111zoom HOLD TH E PHONEZ

august 15, 2023

yn.yln

liked by charles_leclerc, and 15,393,393 others

yn.yln little ep out now:)

[ COMMENTS DISABLED ]

august 22, 2023

charles_leclerc

liked by 21,383,696 others

charles_leclerc Might as well be worth it for once❤️

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yn.yln thanks for the last pic, love 🧘‍♀️

yn.yln STOPP IM GOING TO MISS YOU FOR TOUR

⤷ charles_leclerc you could always come to the pasdock😘

⤷ yn.yln WAGGING HERE I COME

august 25, 2023

[siriuslywicked]

Tangled Hearts - Chapter One

Pairing: poly!wolfstar x reader

Summary: After years of isolating yourself from old school friends, you find yourself thrown back into their world after an invitation from Lily to celebrate her and James' recent engagement. As you, Sirius, and Remus reconnect, it becomes clear the chemistry between the three of you is as vibrant as it was at Hogwarts. Having been burned before, are you willing to let yourself trust them again?

Tags: drinking, no use of y/n, reader is nicknamed "fluffs," ignoring actual timelines and canon for storytelling reasons, reader is half blood, hidden relationships, wolfstar are closeted babies, ignoring peter bc he gives me the ick, reader is afab, reader wears makeup and can put her hair up

A/N: I am so so excited to be posting this fic. I don't think I've published anything since like 2017, but it has been really fun getting back into writing. I'm open to friendly feedback, ideas for the main story or any extras! I have a couple short extras I might write but please send me your thoughts and ideas! Enjoy!

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You weren’t a stranger to walking home alone on the cold, dark streets of London. Working a demanding Ministry job meant you often left work late. Due to the short distance home you often opted to travel on foot, preferring it to more magical methods of transport. While not unusual, this particular walk left you in low spirits. It was five past seven on a crisp Friday evening, and as the city bustled with life around you, a feeling of loneliness seated itself in your chest at the idea of returning to your empty apartment. 

In the few years since you had left Hogwarts, the state of the Wizarding world—your world—had steadily grown darker. Coming from a half-Muggle, half-wizard household had always left you in a precarious position. You were grateful for your stable position at the Ministry, working in the Muggle Relations Office, it provided a small sense of security. That was one of the things you missed most about being at Hogwarts: the stability. When you were inside the castle walls, it had felt like nothing could harm you. You would always be warm, fed, and surrounded by good company. You often found yourself longing to be back in the Gryffindor common room with your friends, talking late into the night around the fire.

The common room had been replaced by your cozy little flat in London where you lived alone. It was small and in need of renovations, but had unique charms and a homey feel. Your friends had been replaced by a few coworkers who you met occasionally for drinks at the Leaky Cauldron. The sense of security, belonging really,  had been replaced by a near-constant unease and loneliness that seemed to follow you around like a shadow. Occasionally, you’d receive an owl from Lily, updating you on her life with James. They were recently engaged, and you couldn’t be happier for them. You and Lily had been fast friends at Hogwarts. Your mixed magical and Muggle family meant you could understand her, and help her adjust to life at Hogwarts. After being sorted into the same house, the two of you had been inseparable for years, only drifting apart slightly when Lily and James grew closer. Sharing Lily’s attention had been an adjustment, but it had come with a larger friend group, as Lily and James had quickly welcomed you into their circle, introducing you to Sirius and Remus. The five of you had spent your seventh year causing quite the ruckus. Between parties, weekend trips to Hogsmeade, and sneaking through the castle’s many hidden passageways, you had never had a better time at Hogwarts.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Walking up the red brick steps to your flat, you shook yourself free of thoughts of the past and focused on the evening ahead. Unlocking the door with a discreet flick of your wand, you stepped inside and took in the warmth of your small home. Sitting on the kitchen counter was Lily’s most recent letter, informing you of her engagement. With it, she had sent a picture of herself and James, both smiling and waving up at you. Holding the photograph in one hand, you contemplated the contents of the letter. The happy couple would be in London in a couple of hours to grab a pint and celebrate with Sirius and Remus. You had been invited to join, of course, but you found yourself hesitant.

As close as your group had been during seventh year, there was an unmistakable shift in dynamic as Lily and James became closer. It had left you, Remus, and Sirius to your own devices. The three of you had always enjoyed teasing one another, conversations always full of quick wit and laughter. But like so many good friendships, you had gotten too close and ended up burned. Turns out Remus and Sirius didn’t really want to turn their duo into a trio. Outside of a couple of dinners at Lily and James’s, you hadn’t spent any time with the two boys. In fact, now that you thought about it, more than a year had passed since you’d seen any of the old group, aside from Lily. 

As much as the idea of seeing everyone again after so long made you nervous, you knew how important it was to Lily that you made an appearance. For this reason, you found yourself shrugging off your heavy cloak and padding into the bedroom to change. After changing into a burgundy cardigan and your favorite jeans, you fixed your makeup and messy updo with a flick of your wand. Throwing on an overcoat, you prepared yourself to brave the night once again, feeling the familiar flare of anxiety pool in your stomach. It was just a couple of drinks with old friends—what could be so bad about that?

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Trudging along the castle halls back to Gryffindor after a long week of classes hadn’t been easy. You had felt weighed down by exhaustion, impatiently awaiting the moment you could curl up under your covers and say goodbye to the stress of pre-Christmas exams, if only for a few hours. Arriving back at the common room, you found it unusually quiet. Unlike most of Gryffindor House, you had spent the last Friday evening before end-of-term exams in the library, pouring over notes and trying desperately to recall Professor Binns’s most recent lecture. You assumed the younger students were asleep in their dorms, while the older students—your friends included—were almost certainly at the little bash Hufflepuff was throwing to try and outdo the Gryffindor party that would be taking place the following weekend. An impossible feat, but don’t tell that to any of the Puffs.

Climbing the stairs to your dorm, you recalled that you had lent your copy of Advanced Potion Making to Remus, and you would need it to continue studying in the morning. The chances of getting the book back before noon tomorrow seemed slim, so you opted to sneak into the boys’ dorm and fetch it before crashing. No one would be in right now, and it wasn’t like you and Lily hadn’t been in their dorms before. Quickly changing course, you found yourself in front of the boys’ dormitory and cast a quick charm to unlock the door. Slowly stepping inside, you began searching for the textbook near Remus’s things. Taking in the room, you noticed that the curtains around Sirius’s four poster had been drawn completely closed. Odd for a messy dorm. Surely Sirius hadn’t brought a girl back so early in the night—it was only half-past ten. You flushed at the thought and felt your heart rate increase at the idea that he might be behind the curtain with some girl from the party. Sirius was good-looking, no doubt about it, but you wouldn’t reduce yourself to being jealous of whoever his conquest of the night was. You silently thanked the heavens for the existence of silencing charms and hurried your search.

It only took a moment longer for you to spot the potions book among some of Remus’s school clothes. You quickly grabbed the book and made your way to the door, but before you could grab the handle, you heard a great thump and the unmistakable sound of Sirius groaning in pain. Turning to look, you saw Sirius on his back, looking rather disheveled—his curly black locks untidy, cheeks flushed, and the majority of the buttons on his shirt undone. But instead of seeing some sixth-year Hufflepuff girl on top of him, you saw... “Remus?”

“Hello, Fluffs,” he said breathlessly, looking rather sheepish. If you thought Sirius looked flushed, it was nothing compared to the pink staining Remus’s cheeks—not that you were any better off.

“I was just coming to fetch my book… I thought you’d both be off at the party with the others—sorry.” The explanation came out squeaky as you clutched the book to your chest. Both boys stared at you, rooted to the spot, all three of you seemingly at a loss for words. Remus seemed to catch up with himself first, he extracted himself from his position between Sirius’s legs and stood quickly on wobbling legs. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, struggling with how to proceed. 

“The others don’t know. You wouldn’t mind keeping this between the three of us, would you?”

Glancing between his nervous expression and the still red Sirius on the floor, you nodded slowly and took a step back towards the door.

“My lips are sealed. Promise.” You gave a small smile, still blushing, and quickly exited the room.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

A short walk later, you found yourself standing outside the small pub Lily had mentioned in her letter. You felt anxiety settle in the pit of your stomach as you looked down at your watch: eight twenty. You were early—perhaps you would get lucky, and it would just be Lily and James there. Sirius and Remus tended to be just beyond fashionably late. Keeping that thought in mind, you took a deep breath and opened the door.

The pub was dimly lit, and the air was thick with smoke. The bar was full of Muggle patrons watching whatever match happened to be on. Along one wall was a series of round cushioned booths, each outfitted with its own oil lamp and ashtray. Taking in the scene, you spotted two familiar faces. To your great surprise, Sirius and Remus could be seen sitting in one of the booths. Sirius noticed you first, a large grin spreading across his face as his pale eyes met yours. Despite the hammering in your chest, you felt yourself smiling back as your feet carried you towards their booth. Sirius looked as ever—his curly dark hair pulled into a loose bun, his cream button-down hugging his broadened shoulders. Remus gave you a soft smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and as you got closer, he ran a nervous hand through his hair.

“Well, if it isn’t our favorite Fluffs!” Sirius grinned.

He stood and pulled you into an embrace as you reached the booth. Standing on your toes and throwing your arms around his neck in return felt as natural as coming home. His cologne smelled of spice and something woodsy, and it stuck to you as you stepped down and went to take a seat next to Remus.

You weren’t sure what you had been expecting seeing just the two of them again after all this time, but the enthusiastic welcome from Sirius had been enough to settle your nerves. 

“Still calling me Fluffs? I was really hoping that after all these years, the two of you would let me live that down.”

“Don’t be silly, dove,” Remus said with a smirk. “That nickname is going to stick around as long as Pads does.”

You let out a small huff at Remus’s comment. It came as a relief that he felt comfortable enough to tease you alongside Sirius, even if he had seemed apprehensive seeing you again. You relaxed further into the booth as Sirius sat down on Remus’s other side.

“I must say, I’m surprised to see you here before Lily and James. Since when were you two so punctual?”

Sirius smiled into his pint as Remus explained, “We’ve got a flat nearby. Prongs asked us to save a booth.”

Rather than linger on the fact they were living together—and what that implied—you leaned across Remus and asked Sirius if he would fetch you a drink. He obliged with a grin and quickly made his way to the bar.

“It’s good to see you again, love,” Remus said, turning toward you. As you took him in, all deep eyes and silky light-brown hair, you felt yourself flush once again. While Sirius had always brought out the bubbly side of you with his exuberant energy, Remus often gave you butterflies with just a look. Despite the years that had passed, it was clear the pair still affected you like you were seventeen.

No sooner had Sirius returned bearing your drink of choice—because of course he remembered—than the happy couple materialized at the booth. After warm greetings all around, the five of you settled into comfortable conversation with drinks all around. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It was the first time since Hogwarts that the five of you had had so much fun. A great deal of catching up had been in order, Lily and James gushing over the engagement and wedding plans, Remus and Sirius about their many London adventures, and you about the happenings at the Muggle Relations Office. 

Lily and James were seated on one side of the booth, and somewhere between round two and three, you had ended up squished between Remus and Sirius on the other.

“Did the boys tell you about their flat?” Lily piped up across the table. “It’s just around the corner. Real nice place too! What with two boys living there and all…” She trailed off with a giggle.

So, if it was common knowledge they were living together, did that mean—

“Ultimate bachelor’s pad if you ask me! They’ve even got Muggle foosball all enchanted. The little players have got a mind of their own at this point,” James chimed in.

Apparently not. 

Not dwelling on the fact Lily and James were still in the dark about certain aspects of their friends' relationship, you quickly downed the rest of your drink. Head feeling fuzzy and cheeks radiating heat, you focused your eyes to look at Lily. She gave you a wide smile before grabbing James’s arm and announcing to the group that it was past her bedtime, prompting the group to finish their drinks as well. You all stood and staggered out onto the street, you yourself stumbling slightly and gripping onto the table to help you stand. After Lily and James had said their goodbyes, Lily giving you a tight hug, Remus and Sirius turned to you.

“How are you planning on getting home, dove? Please don’t tell me you’re thinking of disapparating in this state,” Remus teased, clearly amused at how tipsy you’d gotten after just a few pints.

He had a point. You didn’t have a good way to get home besides walking, but it was rather late for that. The other option was casting a sobering charm on yourself, but that just sounded plain unpleasant. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Suppose I could always take the night bus,” you giggled, feeling a little silly for your lack of forethought.

Sirius shook his head before you had even finished your sentence. “Don’t be ridiculous, Fluffs! You can tag along with me and Moony, crash at ours, yeah?”

“Yeah?” you said hesitantly, your eyes darting between the two tall boys. The last thing you wanted was to put them out right after reconnecting had gone so well.

Remus nodded his agreement without hesitation. “Perfect idea, Pads. We’ve got an extra blanket and everything. Don’t you worry, love.”

And so, you found yourself arm-in-arm with Remus and Sirius, walking down the streets of London toward their flat. Correction: street. Lily hadn’t been kidding when she said it was around the corner. During the short walk, you couldn’t help but feel like you were exactly where you ought to be. Something about being back with Remus and Sirius felt so unbelievably right that it made you giddy.

As you rose the steps with Remus’s help, the last drink from the pub hit your system, and you felt yourself lean into him ever so slightly more. Once inside, he laid you down on the couch with the promise of a blanket and a couple of pillows that felt cool on your flushed cheeks. Remus pulled off your boots, and you could hear Sirius talking animatedly to him from what you imagined was the kitchen. You let your eyes slip closed as you settled into the couch, feeling warm and sleepy. The boys' voices became more hushed, and you heard footsteps indicating they were walking toward the couch.

“Dove?” Remus’s soft voice prompted you to peek your eyes open.

“Mmm?”

“Just wanted to say goodnight, darling,” he explained, his hand rubbing soft circles on your arm.

“Night, Moons. Night, Pads,” you murmured, looking at the pair of them and smiling.

“Goodnight, our darling Fluffs,” Sirius replied, smiling brightly.

You let your eyes fall closed once more, drifting off to the sound of hushed whispers and a door closing down the hall.

[joelsflannel]

stress (j.m.)

joel asking you to watch sarah is the perfect excuse to study somewhere that isn’t your apartment. its your last semester of undergrad and your neighbors provide anything but a quiet study environment and the stress is piling up. so what happens when joel comes home on a friday night, sarah having gone to bed hours ago, to you curled up in a chair at the kitchen table with papers and various large textbooks strewn about.

masterlist

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: 18+ implied smut, pre/no-outbreak joel miller, stress, anxiety, final exams deserve their own warning, implied age gap (reader is a senior in college), FLUFF, joel being the boyfriend we all deserve, joel calls reader “sweet girl” and “my girl”, no physical description of the reader (he strokes your hair and you wear his shirt), no use of Y/N. 

this is entirely self-indulgent so while a major is not explicitly stated i’m a psych major and one of the classes i took was adolescent psychology. the professor was awful and i did in fact cry over the class, many times. this is also my first fic since like 2017 so hopefully it’s good, it hasn’t been proofread. enjoy <3

You wouldn't really call it babysitting. You’d been dating Joel for a while now so when he asked if you could come over on weeknights to make sure that Sarah wasn’t getting into any trouble, “Sarah? Getting into trouble?” you immediately agreed. It was nice to have somewhere to go after a busy day of lecture after lecture and work on homework somewhere that wasn’t curled uncomfortably on your couch in your apartment, headphones in, desperately trying to drown out the almost comical stomping of your upstairs neighbors. 

“I’d love to,” you smiled as Joel’s face physically relaxed at your response. “Thank you, darlin’, really you’re a lifesaver.”

“Am I still a lifesaver if I tell you that I’m just using you for the peace and quiet?” you teased.

Truth be told, this was your last semester of undergrad and you were grateful for the distraction. Between applying to grad schools and trying to keep up with your classes, it was nice to hang out with Sarah. You’d gotten close with her since dating Joel and you loved spending time with her. Plus since Joel worked pretty late some nights, it also gave you somewhere quiet to work.

You liked your apartment, it was cozy, all things considered, and it was nice to have your own space. That was until your upstairs neighbors moved in and decided that running laps up and down their apartment was a great way to pass the time. There was no amount of drowning them out that could make any kind of studying successful and you’d never really been able to study at the library, so Joel’s kitchen table it was. 

It was the Friday before finals week and everything felt like it was crashing down around you. Assignments were piling up, professors were waiting until the last possible minute to grade any of the semester’s work, and you were overwhelmed. So here you are, textbooks littering the kitchen table and notebook paper full of your scribbled notes haphazardly strewn around. It felt like you’d been staring at the same pages of your textbook for hours and you couldn’t help a few tears of frustration falling onto the notebook in front of you. In fact, you were so knee-deep into making a study guide for your adolescent psychology class, you didn’t even hear the front door open and shut.

It wasn’t until you heard the scraping of a chair on the floor and heard Joel, brows furrowed in concern, saying your name in a soft voice that you noticed him. You straightened up quickly, suddenly very aware of the mess you’d made on his table and the tears streaming down your face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” you sniffle, wiping your face with your sleeve and sighing. His face immediately softened and he leaned forward to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey no, no don’t apologize, sweet girl. C’mere, what's the matter?”

As soon as he asked it was like all of the stress and anxiety came barrelling forward, slumping to rest your head in your crossed arms, “My fucking brain hurts.” He exhales a hollow laugh and moves his hand from your shoulder to stroke your hair gently. You turn your head to look at him, “It’s just… I’m so tired, it’s like my professors are trying to kill me and then I think about how even when I graduate, I’ll just be back in school to get my master's come fall. And don’t get me wrong, I want my master’s but sometimes it's just a lot, I guess.” 

He nods and continues stroking your hair reassuringly as you talk, hanging on to your every word searching for a way to comfort you. You shake your head and sigh softly, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I just dumped all that on you.” He smiles at you warmly and tilts your chin up to cup your face. “You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for, I want you to know that you can always come to me.” 

You find yourself leaning into his touch as he gently strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Thank you, Joel.” 

“C’mere, darlin’.” He pulls you into him, pressing a kiss to your head and enveloping you in his arms, surrounding you with him. His smell, his warmth, all things Joel. “You’re the smartest person I know. Let’s just take a little breather, get you some water, and go sit on the couch away from all this.” He motions to the papers scattered on the table. “Sound good?”

You nod into his chest, not wanting to pull away from his embrace just yet. He chuckles and stands up, leading you to the couch. “You sit, I’m gonna grab you a glass of water” You crack a small smile and mock salute him as he goes to walk away. His own smile grows at the sight of you relaxing even just a little bit, “There’s my girl.” 

He comes back with a glass of water and a blanket. He hands you the glass before settling in next to you, draping the blanket over your laps, and pulling your legs into his lap as you curl into his side. He looks over at you and smiles, his eyes focusing on your shirt for the first time tonight. “Is that my shirt?” 

“Maybe,” you shrug jokingly, “it was absolutely pouring when I got out of my last class and I was parked down the street. So when I got here, I just grabbed one of your shirts and threw it on.” 

“I like it, looks good on you.” He presses a kiss to your head. “Now do you wanna talk about what all’s worryin’ you with school or do you just wanna take the rest of the night off?” 

You place the glass of water on a coaster on the side table and turn back to face Joel. You traced a finger over his jawline before placing your hand on his cheek and leaning in. He quirked an eyebrow up at you before closing the gap between you, capturing your bottom lip between his. Your lips continue to move against his, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down closer to you, his hands finding purchase around your waist. 

“Does that answer your question?”

[buckets-and-trees]

Put Me Back On My Shelf

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark and rough Nomad!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Word Count: 750ish Summary: LATE Friday, September 28, 2017. It's not the sex with him that's the danger. Immediate follow up to Pull the String in the Exiled Nomad Series.

Content/Warnings: fluffy angst? Nomad Steve is still soft!dark and a warning - gaslighting if you read into the subtext

Author Notes: The previous part ended exactly where I felt it needed to, but this is the extended scene that I still very much know happened, wanted to happen, and knew I could share as its own moment with you lovelies.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

A little before midnight, you sat on the counter in the kitchen, Steve leaning against the counter next to you, polishing off your takeout order from the Italian place. They always gave wonderfully generous pasta portions, so that was easily shared between the two of you, but you were glad you had ordered double garlic bread so you didn’t have to sacrifice too much on that front. It had also reheated quite beautifully in your brand new air fryer. Now the two of you alternated spoonfuls of the tiramisu.

The conversation up to that point had been fairly casual and easy between the two of you, but now the two of you had fallen into a moment of silence, and the quiet didn’t bother you, but you felt Steve’s eyes settle on you a little differently when he took his next bite.

You almost let it slide, and you weren’t worried over what it meant, but you were curious. So you playfully batted his spoon out of the way on your way to getting your next spoonful and asked, “What’s that look for?”

He tilted his head slightly. His blue eyes were dark and serious.

You simply savored your bite and quietly waited for him to answer.

“I may have ruined your hair and make up a bit-”

“A bit,” you laughed, a surge of warmth rushing up your neck.

He grinned wolfishly. “I make no apologies, but I was going to say you seemed a little dolled up for just a night at home with some takeout and a movie.”

You couldn’t help the small sigh over the reminder of Mark.

Steve's brow furrowed at your sigh. "Did I say something wrong?"

You shook your head, offering a small smile. "No, it's not you. I actually had a date tonight, but he cancelled last minute."

Something flashed in Steve's eyes - concern, maybe a hint of jealousy? "I'm sorry to hear that. His loss."

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "It's fine. Honestly, I'm not that upset about him. We'd only been on a couple of dates. And good thing, otherwise I wouldn't have been here when you showed up."

Steve's expression softened, and he settled a hand on your knee. "Are you okay?"

The gentleness of his gesture and his inquiry made your heart flutter. "I am now."

Steve nodded, but his jaw was set in a way that made you think he was holding something back.

For an instant, you almost wondered if he’d had anything to do with Mark cancelling.

But that was ridiculous.

Like your first chance encounter, this could only be another night where stars aligned.

After a moment, he spoke again, his voice low and intense. "You deserve someone who appreciates you. Someone who wouldn't dream of cancelling on you."

This was the uncharted and the true danger with him. You swallowed hard, your heart racing at Steve's words. The intensity in his eyes made you shiver. He wouldn’t cancel on you, but you both knew he couldn’t make plans with you either.

He pushed the now-empty tiramisu dish aside, and turned you so you were facing him. He pulled you to the edge of the counter and stood between your legs, his hands resting on your thighs.

"Steve…" you began, unsure of what to say.

Steve's hands tightened on your thighs. "I shouldn't have come here. It's selfish and dangerous. But I had to see you again."

You cupped his face in your hands, feeling the rough stubble beneath your palms. "I'm glad you did."

He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours.

“Stay tonight?”

Steve's eyes searched yours, a mix of longing and conflict swirling in their blue depths. For a moment, you thought he might refuse, might pull away and disappear into the night as suddenly as he had appeared. But then he nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement.

"One more night," he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Cautious relief and excitement flooded through you. You leaned in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. Steve responded immediately, his hands sliding up your thighs to your waist, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. The kiss deepened, slow and languid, a stark contrast to the frenzied passion of earlier.

When you broke apart, Steve rested his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily. "We should get some sleep," he murmured, though his hands remained firmly on your waist.

“But only some sleep,” you responded.

He laughed and picked you up. “Deal.”

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Read more of the Exiled Nomad Series

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[writingmochi]

ｌｏａｄｉｎｇ ｉｎｔｅｒｆａｃｅ．．．

you've found a discovery: cinema experience

lissie: greetings! not going to lie, i didn't expect to achieve this milestone in the quick manner that it is (shout out to laurel hell for that like i still am baffled). thank you for taking a chance in reading the fics, giving it a like, giving a reblog and/or comment, and for following the blog. as with the other discoveries found, i'll be sending back to the community and what is not a good way to do that by hosting an open collab for writers who write for ateez, txt, and/or enhypen.

what is cinema experience?

from the youthful stories of call me by your name, to the adventures in star wars, the horror depths of friday the 13th, to the exuberant tales from the princess bride. here is the cinema experience.

cinema experience is a fic collaboration project centred on adapting stories from cinema and creating your own twist and take on it. so, any movie you want to adapt, from the indie to the blockbusters. to the oldies and the newest. give it a twist to your liking, a horror version of the breakfast club with hongjoong in mind, or lost in translation with a sci-fi twist for sunghoon.

this collab is open for anybody that wants to / is writing for ateez, txt, and/or enhypen and will last until the end of 2024. if you decide to join in, your name will be listed on this post.

if you are interested in joining, the guidelines will be below the cut:

guidelines:

this project is for ateez, txt, & enhypen fics

the fics can be either reader insert x idol or oc x idol (no idol x idol pairing)

minimum word count is 1000 (1k)

though i love timestamps, headcanons, drabbles, and reactions, this project is for full-length works only.

plagiarism is extremely prohibited, especially if you are plagiarizing existing works. believe in yourself that you can create something great!

smut and suggestive are allowed but no smut for jungwon and no suggestive and smut content for niki (as per following my blog's guideline)

all written works will be added to a masterlist that i'm making by the end of the year (december 31st, 2024)

if you want to join:

reblog this post with your member of choice and the movie your fic will be based on

tag your work with #discovery: 400 or tag me @/writingmochi when you are have posted it so i can put you in the masterlist!

the groups and the movies:

ATEEZ

@/writingmochi | san | wall-e (2008)

@pyeonghongrie | hongjoong | the phantom of the opera (2004)

@fureastel | yeosang | robin hood (1973)

@hotteoki | yunho | to all the boys i've loved before (2018)

@prodsh00ky | mingi | pirates of the caribbean franchise

@miirohs | seonghwa | how to train your dragon franchise

@vampiriirot | wooyoung | om shanti om (2007)

TXT

@/hotteoki | beomgyu | spirited away (2001)

@/writingmochi | soobin | bridge to terabithia (2007) and tigers are not afraid (2017)

ENHYPEN

@/writingmochi | jay | fallen angels (1995) and millennium mambo (2001)

lissie: i'll be looking forward to reading your works! once again, thank you so much for the milestone <3

our other discoveries:

discovery: 300 send me a fake fic title and i'll make the premise for you!

discovery: 100 ask me questions about my wips and/or writing process!