#he's a true Yankee

[dinosaurwithablog]

I saw this and had to post it because Juan Soto is a true Yankee. He has the passion and the talent, and he needs to be a Yankee forever!!! I implore you, Mr. Cashman,... PAY. THE. MAN. PLEASE 🙏🏼 He has found his forever home in New York. He needs us, and we need him. I can't imagine the Yankees without him now that he is here. PAY. THE. MAN. I love Juan Soto!! ❤️ Let's go Yankees!!!!! This is our year!!!

[thelunarbar]

[ravengards-rogue]

the evening stretch | warm-up series.

ft. the prompts, nsfw / "dinner" / arthur morgan.

✧ tags : afab!reader + fem!reader outdoors sex, oral (f!recieving), reader is an outlaw, established relationship, desperate arthur morgan, 18+

✧ wc : 2.7k

✧ a/n : hello! this is part of a little warm-up series i do on my other blog where i pick three prompts and try to come up with something. i normally do them in a rut. im working on a commission and im super stuck so.

this actually landed on javier four times in a row but im being kind and sparing a friend so. here's mr. morgan.

✧ synopsis : arthur thinks the place between your legs would suit him quite nicely.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

Honest to God, Arthur's never been like this before.

He ain't all that pious to start, so perhaps the sentiment doesn't stretch as far as he would like it too. But it's true, all the same - that in all the lives he's lived, he's never experienced this much bone-deep desire for another human being.

Which is outright ridiculous, since right now you're just making supper. Dinner, you always clarify with that yankee accent. You're going to have dinner together, 'cause Arthur needs to eat. He works hard, according to you.

It's not much, but you're a better cook than Pearson. Even if that's not saying a whole lot. And you're insistent on making the man eat, always on his case about how it's hardly enough for a man his size.

Arthur can chalk it up to being that you love him, as you have told him foolishly many times. He's sure you're not gonna be happy with him in a minute since again - all you're doing is making dinner.

It's just... something. Something about you today. Dammit, he doesn't understand it neither. You've got a job together, and you and Arthur play convincing husband and wife since you practically are anyway. Arthur's been watching you today closely. You lie pretty. Smile with all your teeth, clever with a careful finesse and an honest knack for debauchery and indecency.

You love calling yourself an awful woman. Joking about dying an unweddable spinster given your crudity.

But Arthur likes it in you. Of you. Likes it so much he's done nothing but readjust his pants watching you squirm your way out of every difficult situation and sling the revolver on your hip like a tried-and-true gunslinger.

You're a fine woman to him. A fine one.

The fire crackles as you place a pot over the little flame of the faux stove. You've made a real dinner somehow - with some vegetables and creeping thyme and carefully butchery of meat. It smells good and you seem proud of it, stirring the thing with the sharp end of your knife. Careful not to scrape the pot.

Arthur watches the light glow orange on your face, carefully observing the way it shines on you. You don't look up at all when you speak.

"Gonna stare a hole into me, Morgan."

He feels something warm crawl up his cheeks. He scratches his beard instinctively, tucking his hat over his eyes.

"'m sorry," He says, unsure of how to cover for himself. "Been thinking about some things."

"Don't hurt yourself," You reply, sardonic and dry. Arthur adores you. He laughs to himself and feels warmed by the pleasant smile that seems to give you.

"I'll try. Ain't much used to thinking,"

"Penny for your thoughts, then Mr. Morgan." You reply, carefully moving the pot around so nothing burns. "Might help you clear your mind if you get some of it off your chest."

He's backed himself into a wall. Goddamn him and his big mouth. He hesitates, taking it off this time. Fidgety.

"Yanno, there ain't a lot women like you. Not that I've met at least."

You give him a look. Your lips pressed into a flat line, unimpressed by him.

"Is that so?"

He laughs to himself. "It is indeed. You're a real piece of work. 'Specially going around batting your lashes, making yourself out to be a housewife."

"Aw what, did you like seeing me all doe eyed?" You smile to yourself, teasing but not entirely insincere. "If it helps, since you're the fake husband, I'm only half-acting."

That makes him grin. Though you say it with confidence, the sincerity it makes you flush.

"It ain't that," Arthur says again, looking at your face for the second time in a few minutes. "Just that you're a fine woman to be around. What do they call it...resourceful. That's what I'm thinking of."

"Who taught you such a big word, Morgan?"

"Trelawny, I'd guess."

You laugh, loud and beautiful and Arthur smiles. You look at him from across the fire. "Well, I'm glad you like my company, Mr. Morgan."

"I do more than like it," He hums, offering a reprieve. He nods at you carefully, head tilted. "Come 'ere,"

Your eyes widen at him, but you don't deny him of what he's asking. For that he is awfully grateful. You're more than capable and much less than needy. There's victory in your deliberate desire for him, Arthur thinks. You want him enough to let him chase you.

You come sit by Arthur. You're a little awkward with him still but he don't mind. It adds to whatever he feels for you, sugar-sweet affection and all. You sit on your knees and Arthur turns his head looking at you.

Beautiful. Beautiful thing you are, really. He has a hard time finding the words to tell you.

He reaches up, hand cupping your face. You lean into the touch, palm resting on calloused hand. He adores you.

"And quit with the Mister Morgan nonsense. Drives me crazy."

"Arthur," You say, slow and deliberate. "You know you're looking at me like you wanna eat me."

'"Read my mind, then."

"Arthur," You repeat, scandalized. He would smile if he wasn't so serious. "We're supposed to be eatin' dinner. You got into a whole spat with them Leymone Riders just today. You need to recover,"

His smile widens.

"Lettin' me go down on ya will heal me just fine,"

You look at him exasperated. Arthur leans into your neck, placing chaste kisses down the line of your jaw. He kisses you just there - underneath your earlobe, knows it drives you crazy.

"Lay down, sugar. Help a poor, injured man heal."

You pull away from him with faux exasperation, fond smiling breaking your face.

"You can be such a dog some times, do you know that?"

"I'm afraid I do,"

You give him another unimpressed look, but you listen anyways. Arthur moves so you can lay down on the bedroll - his bedroll. He takes off his coat just before you lay your head, playing it underneath you to get you more comfortable.

"Dinner's gonna burn," You tell him, almost reflexively. He laughs as he looks at you, your hands folded over your stomach and flat. He laughs at you.

"Burn? You feeling warm?"

"Arthur!"

And he laughs again, catching your boot in his hand as you go to kick his chest lightly. He sets it back down as he stares at you. You're quite the sight. Adoration bubbles up into his throat, blooms out into a hum. The sound of crickets and owls and all sorts of night wanderers sound - but none are distracting enough to pry his gaze away.

"You're looking too much," You say, your voice a half tremble. He nods.

"Got too," Arthur hums, leaning forward into your space. You always smell good to him, some cross between soft earth, and sweet liquor and clothes left in the sun. Skin and salt and sweet. "Who knows how long I'll be around."

He presses his lips to yours gentle and you kiss him - but only once before pulling away. Your eyes suddenly serious, warm palm on his cheek.

"Don't say something so morbid. If you go, I go,"

"Sweetheart—"

"No buts." You affirm, pressing your thumb to his lip all serious. Your eyes meet and for a moment - just one minute, all he wants to do is stop time from moving. From stealing him from you in life at all. Even a few seconds, intolerable. "Don't feel to good to hear, does it? So don't say it."

"Alright, alright," He huffs, laughing against your neck. He kisses it again, right against your pulse - quickening under his teeth as he bites and scrapes. He mulls over how much he wants you, and how little time there is to do everything. "Jus' lemme...I dunno."

Now you're cheeky, smiling up at him. Lord above, you do something so terrible to him. "Now that's just not true, baby."

He laughs deep and raspy. It's not true, because he knows exactly what he's after.

Arthur lets his hands plane over your clothed body. He doesn't bother with the ritual of undressing you entirely - since the act doesn't deserve the intimacy. You do, maybe - but Arthur's head feels too foggy to do anything civilized. He has to settle for letting his hands grip the fabric of your skirt and push it until it bunches around your waist.

There's no real delicacy in it, save for the way your breath hitches as Arthur gives himself better access. He moves to lay on his stomach between your thighs. He wishes it were brighter to give him better view. He's seen it plenty but looking at your pretty pussy alone gets him harder than steel.

His hands go underneath every layer of fabric to undo the little tie of your undergarments. You squirm when Arthur takes them off, but you don't pull away.

It's pretty. Even with the dim light of just the moon and fire to let Arthur see it. What entices him mostly though is the scent, after a long day of riding out alone - there's something about the way you smell - sweat and all that makes the back of his mouth ache with want. Makes his teeth hurt just dreaming about it.

He doesn't let his animalistic urges take him yet. He knows you need the build up. His hand is soft as he grips onto your waist. He pulls your legs further apart and lets his lips brush the inside of your thigh. Starts at your knee and works his way up, his mouth burning hot - open kisses. You giggle at the sensation of his beard, but it's tamped down with lust Arthur knows like the back of his hand.

Slow, deliberate, sinful. He knows the way you liked to be touched so exactly, but the pace is set more by his desperation. It grows ten sizes listening to you sigh and huff, feeling your hands come down to touch his hair and play with it.

"Arthur," Your voice calls. Pleading. Wanting him. You're so good at making Arthur loose his composure with so little. It's hard to tease you as your voice clips off into a whine. "Arthur,"

"I've got you," He says, assured. He means it as much as he means anything he's ever said. He ain't a decent man, but this much he can say full ways. "I've got you, sugar. Ease up. Let me take care of you,"

And so you again, breathless - boneless and eager. You let Arthur into your space, and something about that. Something about you. His heart races, blood pumping through his body. It pulses in his ears, head swimming with nothing but praise for you.

You're a fine woman. You're a good girl. The best he knows.

Arthur can feel the way your clit pulses with want before he ever puts his mouth on you. Makes him chuckle, gloved hand resting on your navel. He uses his thumb to pull it back, before using both hands to spread you open. Then, in an act less then gentlemanly, spits on it hard. He watches it land, lewd as it drips between your fold. He laughs to himself.

Another pitchy call of his name and Arthur decides he's had enough fun to get him through the evening.

He kisses your clit first, thinks it's only gentlemanly. When your hips buck up trying to chase the feeling of his mouth - he laughs. His hands dig into your hips. You're soft, skin dimpling from just how tight he holds onto you.

When he finally gets what he wants, his own body lurches forward from want. He nearly slumps into the ground - half-way between relieved and utterly addicted. It's a sense of euphoria unmatched by the finest liquor or cigars money can be.

The taste of you fills his mouth as Arthur eats.

Arthur is not used to playing predator. Not interested in the act of devouring. You often compare him to some sort of herbivore. But there's something too hungry, too visceral, too primal for him to be anything but a coyote. A teethed thing, all screwed up from hunger.

He lets his tongue slip against the seam of your cunt, all the arousal collecting in his mouth. His senses flood with something heady, sweet but bitter and he groans shamelessly as a result. Spoiled by the taste and utterly debauched.

"Oh, god - Arthur, you're—"

Arthur is pleased by the way your words are cut off by your own moan. He slides his tongue back up, wet muscle firm as it lays flat against your clit. There's a slight twitch like it's asking for more attention.

Arthur is all to eager vtoo provide, closing his lips around the twitching bundle of nerves. He knows what you like. Learned over time just the amount of pressure he needs to suck with and the speed he needs to draw his tongue over your clit to get you right at the very edge of your orgasm.

He teases you to that pace. Slow increases in either or, until it's just at that perfect medium. Once he hits that spot, you always moan so pretty.

You shudder, your body lurching up as your hands get tighter in his hair. "Aah, fuck. Ngh, Arthur. Don't do this t'me."

You begging him not too makes him want to do it more. If Arthur were any less aroused, he would. But his brain can barely think up enough to stamina to do that. His own cock is strained against his work pants - hips instinctively rutting into the bedroll just beneath him. Silently seeking friction all while hoping he doesn't get enough to distract him.

It'd be a damn shame, he thinks - letting anything pull him from the taste of your pussy. From the smell of it, from the sight of it, from the feeling of you. Sticky, pulsing strings of arousal coating his tongue and turning all his thoughts to dust.

His cock throbs again as you rut against his mouth. Arthur pins you in place.

"Please," You say. A magic word he ain't much stronger than. "Please make me cum,"

You really are a good girl, the way you know exactly what makes him tick. Arthur moans into your cunt as he sucks and licks and eats. He'd die over it, and he does not mean it lightly. It's the only thing in the world he wants to do in the moment. He laser focuses on finding that sweet spot again.

And he knows he does when you start whimpering. Squirming and holding onto his soft brown locks and pleading for something you don't know about. He can feel how wet your getting - dripping along down his beard and face. Thick strings of your arousal stick and slide down his neck.

He's never been a messy eater, but you've been disproving many of his prior understandings of himself. He supposes it's only natural.

"Oh, baby," You say, not even his name. Arthur knows it's a warning that you're gonna cum. All he can do is encourage you. He hums into your soft, wet cunt and you groan again. "Fuck, Arthur. I'm gonna cum."

Arthur knows better. He doesn't do a thing but keep going. Lets you move and thrash and pull away but keeps you firm in his place and eats your pussy until you can barely think.

He knows the knot is untying before you do because of how much you squirm. When you cum, you cum hard. Your back arches up into a picture perfect curve, toes curling and hands tugging at his roots for purchase.

He can feel every pulse of desire as you finally do let go. You cry out, loud enough to startle any nearby critters. Your fingers grip tight at the base of his hair as the orgasm washes over you. It's just as magnetic as it was the first time.

He's sure that will always be true.

When Arthur pulls away from your pulsing, wet core - he can feel just how much of his lower face is sticky. He's sure you also know, if the way you laugh is anything to go by.

And he's not long to follow after. Not even a few seconds and he can feel something in pants tighten - a mess of white staining the front of the denim in an onset of lust damn near shameful. Is he a teenager again? Lord above.

Breathlessly, you look down at him after you've ridden your high out.

Pulling up Arthur by the collar, you look at him slowly and frown. You look impassioned and a little frustrated.

You kiss him tender after you've come too. Once, then twice, then a another time with your hand still drawn into a fist. Arthur grabs it closed, opening your palms before kissing the palm of your hands until you're no longer mad.

"Hate how good you are at that," You admit, a little drunk of the euphoria of all of it. "Make me feel so crazy."

Arthur beams at you unapologetic.

"It's good to be that with me, sweetheart." Arthur says, kissing the corner of your mouth. "Now how about you go and give me one more?"

You laugh breathlessly but don't go to stop him at all.

"Insatiable man."

"Only for you, my girl."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

You want my jacket?

John Egan X W.A.C! Reader

Summary: Y/n wants Bucky's jacket, but they have a little competition before...

Warning: Swearing/ sport inaccuracies (Wikipedia stats)/ use of Y/n/ flirting/ mention of erection/ kiss/ sexism (little bit)

Word count: 1.1k

The music was loud, Y/n and her friends made their way through the room, it was a party in their honor, and someone’s 25th mission. The W.A.C division Y/n was in just got transferred to Thorpe Abbotts. Y/n was a weather broadcaster, she was going to brief the men on the conditions they were going to fly. She liked her job, sure it was boring sometimes, but she got the insight on big mission and her job was important. She felt like she was truly having an impact on the war, not a big one, but still.

When John Egan learned that W.A.C were coming on the base, he was like every man on the base; excited. Unlike Buck, he didn’t have anyone to write to at home, he was single and loved woman! When his eyes stopped on Y/n, he knew that he needed to talk to her. Her uniform fitted her so good; her curves were highlighted, and he always loved woman with curves. So, when he walked up to her, he was a little nervous, but he tried to hide it.

‘’Hello ladies’’ he said, looking at all the woman, then he looked at the one he wanted. ‘’Hi, I’m Major John Egan, but please call me Bucky, what’s your name, gorgeous?’’ he flirted. Y/n blushed and hid a giggle. ‘’I’m Y/n, nice to meet you’’ she extends her hand for him to take. The other girls were a giggling mess. When Bucky took her hand, she felt something pass through them, maybe she was just nervous, but it felt weird. They went to sit at a table and Bucky ordered drinks. ‘’So, Y/n, what are you doing here?’’ he asked, looking at her. ‘’I’m the new weather broadcaster, so we’re going to see each other a lot’’ she flirted. Words of his reputation had got to Y/n’s ears, when the Colonel briefed them on the attitude of the men at the base, the woman were warned about Major Egan. Y/n was curious to see if his reputation was true. ‘’You’ll be Miss Sunshine?’’ he asked, with a grin on his face. ‘’Exactly, but with this English weather, I’ll be Miss Cloud, Rain and Fog’’ she joked. He laughed at her joke, he always thought English weather was shit. ‘’Maybe your presence will bring more sun over the base’’ he took a sip of his drink. Y/n tilted her head, before taking a sip of her drink.

‘’I highly doubt that, but hey I’ll probably die of cold, you on the other hand, you’re going to be okay with that beautiful jacket’’ she smiled. He looked at his jacket, then looked at her. ‘’You like my jacket?’’ he asked, with a crooked eyebrow. She nodded as she finished her drink. ‘’Yeah, they didn’t give us any jacket, they didn’t have the money for us’’ she chuckles. A wicked idea came to her mind, she was a fan of baseball, so was he… ‘’Okay, what about a quiz, on the subject of your choice, if I win, I get your jacket, if you win, what do you want if you win?’’ she says. ‘’I want a kiss’’ he grins. ‘’Then if you win, you’ll get your kiss. You in?’’ she asked. He nodded and called Curt, he was a fan of baseball and knew the Yankees. ‘’I’m on, and by the way, I hope your baseball knowledge is good, you know the Yankees, sunshine?’’ he teased. He was 100% sure he was going to win; nobody knew baseball as good as him, but that’s what he thought. Y/n was grinning like a devil, she was getting that jacket!

‘’Ok, last question since you’re both equal in points, Spud Chandler broke the record for what this season?’’ Curt asked. Y/n thought for a second and then took the apple, it was their buzzer. ‘’Y/n?’’ the room went silent; money was changing hands around the bar. Their little competition was the main entertainement right now, soldiers couldn’t believe that someone knew baseball better than Bucky. ‘’ Lowest earned run average in a season’’ she said, smiling. Curt pushed his tongue on his cheek before looking at other guys. ‘’That’s right, you officially win!’’ He exclaimed, making the woman and some guy’s cheer for her. Bucky’s jaw was on the floor, that woman knew baseball, was supporting the Yankees and she just beat him. Now he had to give her his jacket! Bucky looked at the woman, she was smiling proudly. He smiled as he shook his head. He went closer to her. ‘’Let’s get out of here, sunshine’’ he said, she nodded, and they went outside.

‘’How come you know that much about baseball?’’ he asked. They started to walk around the base. ‘’Weather girl wasn’t my original plan, I wanted to be a sport reporter, but because I’m a woman, it’s impossible, but I know a lot about sports’’ she explained. He thought he was dreaming; this woman was surreal. ‘’That was really impressive, even though you beat me, it was amazing’’ he said, he truly meant it, he was in awe before her. ‘’Thank you, but I think you owe me something’’ she grins. Bucky rolls his eyes before taking his precious jacket off. ‘’Take care of it’’ he said, before giving it to her. ‘’Can you help me put it on?’’ she asked. Her back was facing him, he helped her put the jacket on, smelling her perfume properly for the first time. She smelled good, too good, it was going to be stuck in his mind now. Seeing her in his jacket kina turned him on, he didn’t know why, but it was a problem. ‘’Thank you, Major’’ she smiled proudly. ‘’I wish I could say it's my pleasure, but that would be a lie’’ he said, laughing to hide his pain. Y/n giggled as they continued their walk.

‘’That’s me, I have to go to bed early. I’m waking up at 0500 tomorrow I have to do my job’’ she smiles. Bucky nods quickly, expecting her to walk to her building, but she stays in front of him. ‘’Since we were equal, it’s only fair that you get your part of the bet’’ she says. Before he could process what she meant she quickly kiss him on the lips. By the time he acknowledges what just happened, she’s already at the door. ‘’Good night, Bucky, thanks for the jacket’’ she says, his name sounding like a prayer on her lips. ‘’Good night sunshine’’ he said. She blew him a kiss before entering the building, with his jacket on her. Yep, his problem was definitely growing more…

[notquitecanon]

Call Me... // Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You're the Devil of Hell's Kitchen's favorite late night nurse, but he's been avoiding your fire escape since an unfortunate accident. You both miss each other just enough for some emotions to slip through the cracks. You don't even know his name, but you'll settle just to know he's alright.

TW: blood, canon typical injuries, kind of hurt comfort, Matt's a self sabotaging martyr as usual, kinda sunshine!reader??? maybe if you squint

Bolded line is from a prompts list from several months ago so I lost the link. If it's yours let me know and I'll link it!

"I haven’t seen you in weeks… I’m worried you’re in another dumpster somewhere. Just call me back…please?" You whispered harshly into the phone’s receiver, burner cell jammed between your ear and shoulder as you fumbled with your keys. 

It was true. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen hadn’t graced your apartment in weeks after three months of near nightly visits. At first it was serious stuff, stab wounds and splinted bones. It took two weeks for him to crack a joke. But once that stone cold exterior cracked, it was shattered. He was kind, sweet even. Every few visits, he’d bring by supplies to replenish your kit and, usually, with a bottle of wine in the bag.  Emergencies turned to what he called ‘urgencies’- wounds just barely deep enough to justify stitches and dislocated joints. Which then turned into stopping by at the end of his nights for a ‘check up’, where he took advantage of your central heating, warm beverages, and warmer presence. Then, some Yakuza jackass appeared on your doorstep three weeks ago, fortunately your devil hadn’t been far behind. He took care of him, and you figured the thug, now minus fifteen teeth, would have a hard time telling anyone where to find you. Nevertheless, you found the ‘available apartments’ section of the newspaper taped to your seventh floor window. That had been the last night ’the devil’ had paid you a visit. 

"Anyways… I guess I'm asking for a sign of life? Something? Please? Bye." You pleaded, voice kinder this time as you managed to finally unlock the door and slip inside. Locking the knob, deadbolt, chain, and newly installed jam that had been mysteriously delivered not too long ago. With a huff, you discarded your keys, and bag in the entry way before delving deeper into your dark apartment, flicking lights on as you went. 

"You really need to start locking your windows." A deep voice sounded as you rounded the corned into your living room. Heart jumping to your throat and stomach dropping, you let out a yelp as instinct took over. The familiarity of the voice didn’t register as adrenaline flooded your system. 

"SHIT!" You shrieked, flinching backwards so fast that the hallway runner rug caught under your feet, sending you careening into the wall. Without thinking, you put the Yankee’s starting pitcher to shame as you pitched your phone at light speed towards the voice. Of course, the shadow effortlessly caught it.

"Shit!" The intruder mirrored at your fall, and it was then that you realized who it was. As you collected yourself a slew of curses slipped out, looking into the dim living room to find the Devil of Hell’s kitchen slowly rising off the couch, he was already sans black shirt and mask, "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you." 

"Yeah, well, mission failed." You muttered, pressing a hand to your chest as if that would still your pounding heart. Slowly, you finished your shuffled into the living room, flicking on the overheads as you went. "Shit, you could have called. Sit back down."  

You could have used the heads up, the gash across his chest looked serious, and not in the cute excuse to see each other way ’serious’ had meant last month. He breathed a sarcastic laugh, tossing your phone back to you before producing a shattered burner cell with a… bullet hole?

"You have a funny way of saving my skin when I least expect it." He tried a cheeky smile. You rolled your eyes, picking up your pace as you retrieved your first aid kit from under your kitchen sink, "Consider this a sign of life?" 

"A sign of barely alive, more like." You answered, rounding back around the couch to sit across from him. Harshly pulling on a pair of rubber gloves and splaying out an array of supplies both his lap and yours. "You’re unbelievable. Almost a month of no contact and then you just appear and leak blood on my couch." 

"I’m sorry." He breathed, face angled to where your knees now touched. You rolled your eyes, ripping into a packet of gauze and setting to work dabbing the blood. And he sounded sorry, pitiful even, looked it to. His unseeing eyes stared straight past you and yet somehow straight through you at the same time, mouth settled in a puppy like frown. He told you once that he was catholic, and you now wandered if that’s why he was so good at looking guilty.  

"If it wasn’t for the newspapers, I would have thought you were dead." You drove your point home, with a small voice, too angry to be a whisper and yet too concerned to be a hiss. The evidence of his activities was written across his bare torso in older cuts, new and fading bruises, and a couple of bandages that he’d obviously applied himself, "And you’ve obviously been busy." 

"Figured out how the Yakuza found you. Handled it. Didn’t want to lead anyone else back here." His explanation was strained, pushed through gritted teeth as you applied antiseptic to the largest, freshest gash. You cooed small apologies, irritated as you were with the vigilante, you hated being the source of his pain. You picked up a suture kit, quickly threading the needle. 

"Well, as far as excuses go, that’s not the worst." You muttered, half joking and half touched he’d go through this for you. You’d known he was a walking martyr from the moment you’d met him, but still. He’d taken the beatings so you’d sleep safe. 

That was something else, "Lean back, gotta stitch you up." 

He complied as you stood, using your shoulder to nudge the floor lamp so the light was better for you. Even then, you position on the coffee table wasn't cutting it as leaning forward cast a shadow over his chest. Neither was kneeling in front of him, as the gash was too far up his chest for your position to be adequate. You muttered a quick apology as you flitted around him, trying to find the best place to plant yourself. Beside him on the couch might work, but you’d be straining to hold yourself up at that angle and keep your hands steady. 

Bloody-knuckled hands found your waist with amazing precision for a blind man, easily lifting you and placing you over one thigh after he spread his legs a bit wider. He held you steady, angling his eyes to the ceiling to give you the broadest view of his chest. One of your knees pressed into the couch cushion between his legs and the other pressed into the outside of his thigh, caging the his black-clad thigh between your own like a seat. If your weight bothered him, he gave no indication. He did however turn his ear ever so slightly towards you and smirk ever so devilishly, "How’s that?" 

"Very convenient, thanks." You forced your voice to be flat instead of the breathlessness you felt. Stupid charming vigilante. To his credit, it gave you the perfect access without blocking the light. And if you got to feel ever twitch of his insanely muscular thigh between yours? Added benefit. The devil, even bruised and bleeding, was insanely warm and smelled like something out of a terribly sinful romance novel. The manly small of musk and sweat should have been revolting, but the way it mixed with a fading aftershave would have been distracting if you weren’t so focused on the drip of crimson down his toned abdomen. Before your train of thought could derail again, you gave a quiet warning watching your patient steel himself before you began running the needle and thread through the torn skin.  Other than an initial hiss and the clenching of his fists against your waist, he went silent as you worked. 

The two of you sat in an almost tense silence. He could feel how close your face was to his chest, the waves of breaths washing over his skin, the smell of shampoo in your hair faint enough to know you’d put off washing it, the sound of your heartbeat slowing back down after he’d gotten you excited, the slight sound of your teeth worrying the inside of your lip. He knew he shouldn't be here, Claire could have patched him up, probably would have if he asked really nicely. He probably could have if he really tried, but he’d just missed you. Between Fisk and the Hand and the law firm… everything was messy. You were still simple and sweet and far more caring than he thought he deserved, a balm just to be near you. 

"Could you talk to me?" He asked, so quietly you almost missed it in your focus. You tied off another knot, seeing him wince. 

"Hmm?" You hummed, pausing to look up from the half stitched wound. His eyes lowered to your face, his clenched hands at your waist loosening to rub the fabric of your shirt between his fingers. You always wore such soft things, he wondered if you’d be so soft underneath. You took opportunity in the pause to wipe some of the blood from his skin. 

"I’ve missed your voice, even if you want to yell at me or be upset with me, just let me hear it." His voice was like a prayer, so sincere it made you shift on his leg. What was in the holy water at his church? 

"I’m not going to yell at you, honey. I’m not going to kick a man when he’s stabbed." You shook your head, rearranging yourself to get that optimal view again, grazing a gloved finger over a purple bruise on his ribs, "Besides, someone beat me to it." 

He chuckled at the lame joke, leaning his head back against the back of the couch again as you began stitching once more. Instead of scolding him, you caught him up on all the details and minor drama that he’d missed over the last few weeks. The funny things and annoyances from work, things your family had sent you, what your friends had been up to, your opinion on current happenings in the city. He listened to you like it was the most interesting thing he’d heard all year, chiming in with questions and quips of his own. You’d missed his voice too, not that you’d boost his ego by telling him that. 

"There." You finally finished, tying the last stitch and taping a bandage over it. The vigilante under you didn’t make a move to leave, instead his hands kept you still on his lap. You breathed a laugh, moving on to everything else. You removed the old bandages, giving half healed wounds a thorough cleaning. You applied comical Disney bandaids to the more minor cuts on his hands and were even brazen enough to kiss his split knuckles. The vigilante seemed to preen under you attention as you cleaned and applied Vaseline to his busted lip. As if it was too good to be true, his lip twitched downwards as his eye brows furrowed. His face angled away from yours, his unseeing eyes falling on the window he’d come through. 

"You know, the burner phone's been broken for two weeks now. Took the bullet not too long after the yakuza paid you a visit. Couldn't bring myself to throw it away, a little piece of you." He admitted, a pitiful smile twitched up before pulling downward again. He groaned, starting to shift you off his lap, “I shouldn’t be here, it’s not right.”

You allowed yourself to fall to the cushion beside him, but snatched the black shirt away from him before he could make a move for it. He’d been too busy letting his hands linger on your waist. 

“Why not?” You asked sternly, tucking the shirt behind your back as if the vigilante in front of you couldn't probably drop you six ways to Tuesday if he wanted to. Not that he could ever consider raising a hand to you, “You got hurt, I patch you up. Seems right to me.” 

The devil tensed, first leaning away and then leaning really close. His freshly bandaged fingers tapped your knee as if to emphasize his point, “I don’t deserve this kindness. And even if I did, if I could, if I was good, I would stop coming here so you could live in peace.” 

You were a silent for a moment, wanting to make sure your response was exactly how you wanted it to come across.  

“The third time you fell through my window, you told me that if I ever wanted to be left alone, all I’d need to do was change the candle I keep by the window.” You recounted his words. You hadn’t known about his senses at the time, he was still cryptic and mysterious. But you’d never changed the candle, buying new ones of the same scent when it would burn out, “You warned me what might happen. You gave me an out, one that I continuously chose to ignore. You did everything in your power to protect me when that choice had consequences. That was good, because you are good. And good people deserve kindness. You put too much on yourself, honey.”  

As you spoke, you laid your hand over his on your knee, giving it a slight squeeze to convey your own point. The crimefighter listened to your voice, your heartbeat, the quickness of your breath, finding no deceit and even if he didn’t believe you words, it was nice to hear them. Your kindness washed over him, letting him relax for just a second before he shook his head, laughing sarcastically to deflect the dangerously sappy emotions you stirred. You called him honey like it was his name, and part of him wondered that if you knew his name if you would still call him honey. 

“You barely know me, sweetheart.” 

His own nickname slipped out by accident, usually just something he called you in his head when he allowed fantasies about telling you everything, coming home to you as the vigilante and the lawyer, seeing just how far your good grace could take him. His lips quirked up in time with the uptick of your pulse and the way your breath caught for a moment. 

“I know enough to know you deserve some good.” You whispered earnestly, reaching up to graze the Star Wars bandaid you’d stuck across his the cut on his cheekbone. Almost instinctively, he leaned into the touch. You smiled softly, maybe you’d both missed each other a bit. The combined concern for the other and the time between his last visit making you both a little sappy, or at least more honest about it, So, you breathed a laugh, making another lame joke just to earn one of those chuckles you loved so much, “Besides, I know you well enough to have your blood on my hands.” 

But he didn’t laugh, instead, he pulled his face from your palm, his own bandaged hands taking your bloodied gloved hands in his own. Gently, he pressed your hands together, your loose fists creating almost heart like shape as he pressed reverent kisses to each bloody hand. The vigilante was kind always, flirty and joking, occasionally flirtations bordering on something else. But this? This was different, it was new. Intimate. You’d almost feel like a voyeur for watching the scene if it you weren’t playing a starring role. Your mind flashed to those romance novels you’d thought of earlier, this put all of them to shame. So much so that your hands started trembling against his lips. 

He held them tighter, but not in a constrictive, cage like way. More in a ‘let me hold you together’ kind of way before gently peeling the dirty gloves off and, again, kissing your clean hands underneath. His face angled to yours, nothing but sincerity lacing his features. 

"You know my blood better than my own heart does.” 

“God…” You whispered, letting your head fall against his shoulder, your nose nudging his collarbone and your eye lashes fluttering against his neck. His stubbled cheek fell to the crown of your head.  You cleared your throat again, "I know your blood, but not your name. For someone I care so much about, that’s kind of sad.” 

It was the first time you’d ever admitted it out loud in such certain words. The vigilante ran gentle hands up and down your arms, silent as a million thoughts went through his head. You heart was racing, not from lying, but in anticipation. Despite your racing pulse, you seemed almost totally at ease with you skin against his, one of your hands pressed to a bandage on his ribs and the other holding purchase at the waistline of his black pants. Nothing sexual, just the perfect place for your soft hand to land.   

Despite the million thoughts, he really had two options. Keep his secret, and keep you at an arms length, to keep things sweet and simple and not too deep. Or. Let you in a little deeper, he'd swim oceans to keep you afloat. Enjoy your sweetness, even if things were complicated. He kept still, holding you as gently as you had touched him, a promise to himself that he could be gentle and soft, just as he could be lethal and ruthless.  Two sides of a balanced scale.  

Your heart had slowed down again, the soothing motion of his hands on your arm lulling you. You had been worried about his response. You’re confession had gotten too real, you were worried he’d jump out the window and disappear again. And you’d be left with nothing but bloody gloves and the thought that maybe you’d just imagined the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

"Matt.” His voice was quiet, just barely above a whisper, “You can call me Matt. Just don’t stop calling me."

[siribaes]

WHO’S BETTER THAN ME?

RIO x blackfem!reader (oc - Angel)

“After their breakup a decade ago, Rio reunites with high school sweetheart making up for lost time—”

PARING: Exes to Lovers / Past High School Sweethearts

SUGGESTED TUNES 💿: Tu Principe by Daddy Yankee, What You Want by Ma$e & Total, Throwback by Usher & Jadakiss, Thugman by Tweet & Missy Elliott, Only U by Ashanti

CONTENTS: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, or*l (fem receiving), f*ngering, praise k*nk, slight possessive k*nk, Rio being a bedroom bully lol, some light use of Spanish, makeup s*x, cursing, etc. (UNEDITED/ NOT PROOF READ) / GIF CREDIT: @blackisblackisblack

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this was supposed to be a drabble but turned into a full-blown fic, but anyway LOL. so i did a lil AU for rio, essentially he pulled a griselda blanco moved operations to Long Beach (Rio is so west coast coded to me) but yeah, the backstory of these two is that they were childhood friends turned high school sweethearts (class of 2005 in my AU lore of these two, hints at the music choices, etc.) before they went separate ways yada yada, the oc’s face claim is danielle brooks 💖 as always enjoy y'all

Makeup sex shouldn’t be this good. Like this was too good, like ultimate dream-fantasy level type of makeup sex. It felt unreal, except this was very real. Very, very, real.

Angel never imagined that her night would've ended up like this, in the arms of her high school sweet-heart, or rather sitting on top of a very expensive, entry way console, as her high school-sweetheart-turned-ex, used his nimble hands to fondle at her luscious curves, and pillowy-soft lips to suck on the sensitive part of her neck. From how hard Rio sucked and kissed on her neck it was surely going to leave a hickey, which might've been on purpose on Rio's part.

Since they were young, Rio always had a slight possessiveness towards Angel, nothing that was too domineering or chauvinistic, but still a possessiveness that was rooted in a love and a true appreciation of her. This of course was expressed in a way that only a sixteen-year-old Rio could, buying Angel's favorite snacks for school, littering her neck with hickeys during make-out sessions, and even saving what little he had to buy a gold necklace with an angel shaped pendant. It was the subtle ways Rio showed how he felt. That in addition to the verbal ways, in true young-Rio, braggadocious fashion. Even then Angel knew, deep, deep, down, that there would be no one who could measure up, or as Rio so accurately foretold the night of their break-up, "Who else is like me, hm? Who's better than me?"

Angel of course buried that fact deep into her subconscious, well, not deep enough, because in each of her relationships since, it managed to rear its ugly head every single time. Most recently, with her ex-fiancé, Nathan. Nathan was great at first, good conversation, amazing dates, lavish gifts, he treated her like princess. But slowly, over time, Nathan stopped trying, it especially became bad after their engagement. They rarely talked, unless it was about work, or wedding plans, he neglected her, especially in the bedroom. Angel soon realized that despite Nathan's neglectfulness, she made no effort to confront him about it. She didn't care, not a single bit. In the end, Angel had to accept that her heart belonged to someone else. That Rio was the only man for her.

Which brings her too tonight, Angel's high school class's reunion. It was a big one, celebrating 20 years, and Angel thought it would be the perfect remedy to cheer her up. She could let loose, reunite with some old classmates, and celebrate with her friends she's had since then. Something that could put her mind at ease, pull her focus away from the abysmal ending to her engagement.

She was having a good time, truly, cutting up on the dance floor to a killer set of music from 04' and 05', with her besties, Clarissa, Benny, Keke, and Dre. Angel was having the time of her life, dancing to Lose My Breath by Destiny's Child, when her friends froze, their eyes all staring at the bar of the ballroom. Clarissa leaned and whispered.

"Rio's, here."

Angel's mind and heart went to full overdrive, as memories of their relationship flooded her mind. Apparently, while Angel and her friends were having the time of their lives, Rio showed up and instantly became the talk of the town. He had a few breezy conversations with old classmates, charming them of course, and when asked about what does for a living, he smoothly responded that he was an entrepreneur, that he's always been good with numbers. Which wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the truth either. Of course, none of their classmates were aware of Rio's true dealings, only Angel and her close circle were privy to that info.

Despite the nerves that bubbled in her stomach, Angel, knew that she had to face Rio at some point. She marched over and sat at the bar next to him. After some awkward pretense, more on Angel's part than Rio's, and shot of whiskey later, they talked. The conversation flowed and soon before they knew, it was like old times. They caught up and laughed about old memories. More and more Angel felt her heart swell in her chest, her latent feelings for Rio were bubbling to surface. But Rio surprised her, after sharing a couple dances to slow jams, a proposition slipped freely from his lips.

"Come home with me?"

From a safe distance, her friends watched the exchange, seeing the chemistry they still had after all this time, and despite some reservations, they encouraged to follow her heart, or as Keke put it, her pussy. When they were parting ways, Clarissa hugged her tight and encouraged her, whispering in her ear, "Just go with him, girl. Have some fun, we both now you deserve it after the shit you've been through."

So, here she was, whimpering and writhing underneath Rio's touch, while simultaneously admiring the backyard view. An ink-colored sky served as a gorgeous back drop, for the glowy lit infinity pool, in the distance was twinkling lights from buildings near the coastal beach. It was truly a sight to see. Angel snapped back to reality when she felt a firm hand, cradle her chin.

"Where'd you go?" Rio asked. His Coca-Cola colored eyes stared back at her. His head tipped to side, long eye lashes fluttering against the tops of cheeks as he blinked.

His gaze was heavy was lust, completely unrelenting. Its intensity caused Angel to squirm in her seated position. A warmth bloomed underneath her skin as she rubbed at the part of her neck Rio just was. It was still wet from his kisses.

"N-nowhere, baby," Angel stammered.

Slowly, Rio lips curled into a half smile.

"Good," Rio nodded his head as his gaze traveled down to Angel's chest, zeroing in on the exposed skin the peeked through her top, "now take this shit off. I wanna see them titties, Nena."

Completely under his spell, Angel quickly took of her top, leaving her in a lacy, cerulean colored bra, her mini skirt, and a pair of thoroughly soaked panties. Immediately Rio, hand's palmed at Angel's breasts, rubbing and squeezing them. A soft moan escaped her lips, as Rio's lips latched onto one of nipples.

"Yes, baby," Angel sighed, her hands cradled Rio's head close to her. His tongue alternated between soft flicks and harsh sucks at her left nipple. He released her nipple with a pop and went to the right nipple, repeating the same thing, "Fuck, baby, just like that. Shit!"

Angel could feel the wetness pool inside of her panties, as her clit began to throb. She needed Rio, real bad.

"Damn," Rio breathed out. He pulled away from Angel's chest, while his large hands rubbed at her ample thighs. His lips curled into a wicked smile as he admired his handywork. Angel's boobs glistened with sweat, as her hardened nipples stood at full attention, with spit dripping from them, "I missed them titties, girl. Fuck, I need to that pussy too. Lift up for me."

Angel obliged. Rio supported her with one hand, while with the other, slipping off her mini skirt and panties. He tossed the skirt to the floor, while he pocketed her panties. A storm swirled in his eyes, a thick haze of lust, as he admired Angel's, wet, glistening, pussy.

"I dunno if I can wait, mama," Rio rasped. He brought a finger to Angel's core, swiping at her wetness, and brought it back to his lips, sucking on it, "You taste good, mama. All this shit for me?"

Angel nodded. "Yes, it's all for you baby,"

Wordlessly, Rio plunged his fingers inside of Angel, who let out a yelp in response. He quickly fell back into old habits, fucking Angel with his fingers, just the way she liked it.

"Yeaaahhh, just like that," Rio rasped, he bent down and licked at her lips, "Be a good girl and fuck my fingers back," Angel whined loudly, following his instructions, lifting her hips slight and fucked his thick, fingers.

"Fuck! I'm close baby!"

"I gotchu, mama. Fuck, I feel you on my fingers. You gonna let me take care of you, huh? I'll give you anything you want mama, fuck, you being so good for me. Cum for me, darlin',"

And she did. Angel's eyes squeezed shut as she gushed over his fingers. A string of curses and pleases slipped from Angel's lips as Rio continued to fuck her through her orgasm. She could feel the cum slipping down her thighs.

"Mi alma, you look so good cummin' for me," Rio praised her. He captured her lips and kissed her sweetly. His tongue swirled around in her mouth as mimicking the move with his fingers. Angel pulled away from him, mewling.

"Riooooo, fuck, slow down baby,"

Rio landed a firm smack on Angel's ass. He cradled Angel's chin bringing her eyes towards him. His eyes hardened a bit, still holding its lustful haze, now a bit possessiveness broke through. Rio crooked his fingers, slowing down his pace just a tad, but driving into Angel's pussy much harsher and deeper.

"Fuck, I say about that shit," He growled.

"Shit! Baby, I-I'm s-sorry," Angel whimpered. Her mind flickered back to them making out in the car, he only to wanted to her his name, his real one, "Christopher, 's too much,"

A look of pure satisfaction bloomed across Rio's face. Got her.

"Just one more, mama. Be a good girl for me," Rio sunk down to knees, he slowly placed small kisses at Angel's inner thighs. He worshiped the plushness of her thighs, while Angel writhed and whined. He inched closer, spreading Angel's thighs further apart. He admired how she dripped around his fingers. "Fuck, mama I want you to cum on my tongue, 'k?"

Rio kept his eyes on Angel as he licked at her entrance, swirling his tongue around his fingers, continuing on until he reached her clit. Rio pressed a soft kiss to Angel's clit.

"Christopher!" Angel shouted.

Rio worked in tandem, his long fingers plunged in and out of Angel's, while his tongue swirled around her clit, flicking at the sensitive bud. Angel's hands rubbed at the soft hair of Rio's buzzcut, while the familiar thrumming of her orgasm quickly approached.

"Christopher, fuck, I'm soooo close,"

Rio pulled back, "Say it again,"

"Christopher,”

“Again,”

“Christopher, Christopher, Christopherrrrr, keep fuckin’ me, I’m so close,”

Rio grinned as he returned to her pussy. He latched onto her clit, sucking so harshly, Angel for sure believe that it was going to be bruised. His fingers fucked her even faster, as she clenched around them, as Rio French-kissed her pussy. He was completely relentless, wanting to see her cum, again, again, and again. With one last, harsh suck at her clit, Angel, exploded. She screamed in pleasure as she rode out her orgasm. Rio rose up, slowly pumping his fingers, before pulling out.

"Did so good for me," He mumbled against her cheek, holding her close as Angel rode out the aftershocks.

“I love you so much, baby,” Angel whispered in his ear.

Rio captured her lips again, kissing Angel. He licked at her mouth, allowing Angel to taste herself. Rio arms snaked around Angel's torso, and with ease, managed to throw her over his shoulder. Angel giggled and kicked her feet and Rio moved to the stairs.

"Baby! What are you doing?"

"It's time for the real show to start, Nena," Rio teased, he playfully smacked her ass, "You ready for me?"

"Always."

[bluetimeombre]

✧˚. ❃ ↷ Call it what you want to, part three

[I'm having way too much fun with these, but i'm gonna try and make the next part the final. i'm so glad you guys are as obssessed as me. and all i can say is i'm sorry to the tom blyth girlies, believe me, i am one of you and i promise i'll make it up to you!]

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You are texting ... Timothee Chalamet

Timothee Chalamet is calling... My Daisy <3 [declined]

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liked by ... tchalamet, lola.tung, emmalouisecorrin, florenceough, louispartridge_ & others

yourusername: dreams do come true, can't wait to see you later graham norton!!

705k likes 304k comments

user: omg she's such a star

user: my bby moving up in the world

user: no omg cause this is a dream for her

user: ur so pretty

user: I LOVE U

tchalamet: let's go!!! can't wait

yourusername: wait for me at least

tchalamet: waiting...

user: they're so cute!!1

user: i BET he dumped kylie to be with her and she's dating tom

user: my two fave's

user: she looks so good

user: y does timmy only follow one person and it's her

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the graham norton show has been a dream since you started acting, you'd hoped to one day make it on and know that if you did, you'd have officially made it.

not only were you on the show with timmy, but cher, julia roberts and tom hanks. to say you were shaking in your boots was an understatement. back stage you were jumping around after spending some time with the guests. that time had been spent mainly at timothee's side and laughing when appropriate, because you just couldn't believe you were there with them. timothee just laughed, trying to ease your nerves even if he to was scared. in the end, he bounced with you.

you sat on the end of the sofa, next to timothee as the guests ran down the other end.

'and some stars we have on the sofa, look at them at the end. world premier of wonka!' celebrated graham.

you and timmy nodded, thanking the applauses.

'but it wasn't just the world premier, you filmed it over here?' he asked.

'yea we made it in leavesden, very close to here, we shot it almost entirely in london and er- as i always say- i feel like an honorary brit now,' said timmy, glancing at you as he called himself a brit.

you bite back something between a grimace and a smile.

'it was about six of seven months,' he continued, 'it was absolutely joyous as an ignorant yankee.'

'you guys drive on the other side of the road,' joked tom hanks.

'and welcome, at the end there being very quiet,' said graham gesturing to you.

'yea, hi!' you grin, taking a sip of your drink as the audience laugh.

'you're from here, aren't you?'

'yes, british. but it was still really nice to film in london and bath for a lot of it.'

'i can imagine and because, is it right, you were filming for the hunger games whilst you were filming wonka?' he asked. a picture of your poster for the hunger games flashed on the screen and timmy led the applause, whooping.

his attention was only focused on you. his eyes watching every movement, his lips curling up, arm around the back of the sofa.

'thank you, thank you. immediately after filming wonka i got a plane to poland to start filming for the hunger games, yea. literally still in costume for wonka on the plane, i-i got some looks.'

the crowd laugh.

'let's talk about that, hunger games, number one movie!' graham celebrated as everyone clapped.

'thank you, thank you- there we are,' you smile at the picture of tom and you in your characters in the zoo scene. you chose not to notice of timothee shifted around and coughed at the picture.

'and, is it true you did your own singing in that?'

'yes, well i do in wonka too, but for the hunger games it was live. you know, i play this character lucy-grey who's part of this covey band and they all sing so i did it all live on set. then recorded it for the soundtrack separately. this is boring to explain, but-' you said, laughing and fiddling with your rings nervously.

'she's fantastic in the movie,' said timothee, putting his attention on graham and his hand on yours to stop the fiddling. 'i remember working with her in wonka, it was just so much fun, she brings a sort of ... breath of fresh air into it, even though it's a light-hearted comedy, she still makes that difference. and i saw the hunger games, its so cool to be able to see her in an element that i'm not familiar with. but i can still see how she plays the role and how she plays it in such her own and charismatic way.'

you turn your head down, blushing as the crowd clap and as timothee rubs your back. he made it impossible to keep it cool, and on live tv.

'and she sang the songs so good in wonka!' he continued. you tried to get him to stop, but he went on. 'on our table read, she was singing the songs there with our music producer, james taylor, and even then she was singing her parts, our co-stars parts, my parts.'

'ok, shush, shush,' you put your hand over timothees mouth.

'you know what, i saw the new hunger games movie,' said tom hanks, breaking in between you. 'and i have to say, you were the best part of the movie.'

your jaw almost dropped. 'oh woah, thank you, thank you mr tom hanks,' you clasp your hands together, thanking him. 'woah, woody just complimented me, that means so much to me.'

the rest of the interview went on, talking about cher's music, pretty women and listen to tom hanks talk about space and science. sometimes, when timmy would take a drink, he'd bring you yours, offering it to you in a sweet move.

it went on to talk about timothee going to play the iconic bob dylan in a movie, so it was your turn to watch in admiration, eyes sparkling with it.

'no i haven't met him, i'd love to meet him but you know, i don't want to put any pressure on him in any way. but er- we just saw him live,' he said, gesturing to you as you nod, holding onto your drink, 'three weeks ago, in new york. sold out, kings theatre. it was brilliant, it was magical. they bag your phone on the way in, obliges you to be present, as hard as that may be,' he said again, glancing to you. because how could he ever be present when standing next to you?

a picture showed of bob dylan with sonny and cher.

'i can see it, there is a passing resemblance,' says graham.

'thank you, that is the biggest compliment. my god, i'm blown away,' he leant back on the sofa, arm brushing yours. 'this whole talk show has been like a trip.'

everyone laughed at that, tom hanks playing along.

'but cher, you're going to be played by someone soon,' prompted graham.

'please say it's me,' said julia roberts.

'well-' graham gestured down to you.

you laugh and sheepishly hold up your hand. 'i'll do it, i'm currently un-employed.

cher looked down at you, 'we've cast nobody, babe.'

'you have now,' you shrug. the audience laugh.

finally, you guys talked about wonka, leading timothee- the leading man- to talk about it.

'you sing and dance in it, don't forget that,' you nudge him.

timothee blushes, nodding. somehow the two of you had snuggled up on the sofa, pushed to the end and bodies pressed close together. 'it's blasphemy to say that on a sofa with cher!'

'no, i saw you on saturday night live, you were great. and you danced and you did that hot-guys, or cool-guys or something like that,' said cher.

the audience clap and you laugh loudly, remembering his saturday night live. you'd been in the audience, having done press for the hunger games. it was the best night.

'baby face!' you cheer.

'i can't believe you watched that,' said timmy to cher.

'do you want to re-fresh us?' invited julia.

the crowd whoop and laugh as you clap along.

'you sing it with me?' asked timmy, looking over at you.

'absolutely not, this is all you babe,' you pat him on the back as he leans forward and re-counts the song. you nod your head along with, mouthing the words and clapping, pretending to bow when he was finished. timmy laughed and held onto you.

'you two do seem very close down there,' said graham.

for a moment, you two pause and there's quiet. before you guys realise he's talking about the fact everyone on the sofa had shuffled down so that you were on the edge.

'timmy's magnetic field,' you say, rubbing his shoulders.

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instagram story... tchalamet posted!

caption: graham norton, let's go!!

tagged: yourusername

caption: she's calling

tagged: yourusername

Instagram story … yourusername posted

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user: guys, tom was out partying with friends and his ex-gf while yourusername was doing her graham norton interview

user: as he should after yourusername spends all her time with timothee

user: they’re friends

user: img party boy

user: why is this news? do we care

user: noooooo my parents

user: what if there relationship is just all pr for the film 😔😔

user: I love tom, let him do what he wants

user: she’s better with timmy anyway

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

liked by… tchalamet, sadiesink_, rachelzegler, tomblyth, vanityfair & others

yourusername: thank you so much vanity fair for featuring me and coming to my home town (p.s I’m so sorry about all the sheep poo x)

771k likes 401k comments

user: love!

user: ONG the only one to ever exsist ever!

user: I can’t wait to see what she says about tom and timothee

user: she is her own person

user: OMG TAYLOR SWOFT

user: collab when???

user: I love u!!!!

user: I can’t wait to read and stare at you

tchalamet: let’s go!!!!

yourusername liked tchalamet’s comment

user: parents are interacting

user: anyone notice her and tom been really quiet? they went from making out in streets to barley being seen together

user: reputation era!!!

user: is this a reputation easter egg??

tomblyth: very proud, my dear !

yourusername: thanks bro ;)

user: what!!!!!

user: WHAT HAS HAPPENED

user: he got bro zoned

user: they went from quoting notting hill to calling each other bro 😭😭

yourusername in conversation with VANITY FAIR.

user: so she dating tom or what?

user: did you just not read the article?

user: tomblyth do me a favour and tell her to make up her mind

tomblyth: user do me a favour and get a life

user: HE DID THAT

user: tom so fr

user: tom a real bf

user: i love them!!!!

user: I love her!!!

user: she said what she said and left no crumbs

user: queen shit

user: MOTHER!!

user: the way she talks suggests they are only friends and my heart breaks

user: i'll miss them

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

:) taglist: @callsignwidow @kodzuvk @dangelnleif @coconut-dreamz @destrolid @hermionelove @popejar @yesimwriting @slytherhoes @peachesandmon @zunin-msty (thank you all for enjoying it!!!!!)

[notroosterbradshaw]

Stay the Night

here’s some old-school Bucky in Wakanda smut. I didn’t think I’d publish Bucky stuff here, yet here we are. Hope you enjoy x 

18+, smut, fluff. It's just you and Bucky in Wakanda while the team is away. He tends to his flock, you wish he tended to you.

“Today is the literal meaning of ‘hotter than Hades’,” you announced as you collapsed less than gracefully on a broken tree log as Bucky Barnes shot you a look over his shoulder, sweat protruding from every pore in his tanned, muscular form, a tendril of long, dark hair falling into his glassy blue eyes from the loose ponytail behind his head.

Jesus, a man should never look that damn good, you thought, fanning yourself with your shirt, the material sticking to your drenched skin. Thank god the heat hid your blush.

“Bored?” he asked, scooping up a hay bail and loosening it for the goats he tended to munch on.

“Radio silence,” you replied. “I kind of feel like I’m in the way of the locals when I can’t contact the team. I haven’t heard from Nat, Sam or Steve in a few days. I am pretty useless at times like this.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky said, pointing at the water bottle you had parked beside you. “You brought water. I assume that’s why you’re out here in the midday sun,” he teased as you tossed it to him and he caught it easily with his right hand, twisting the cap off and guzzling the cool refreshment.

Every movement was pure sex, you sighed quietly as his throat bobbed, water falling from the creases of his lips and down his chin. Life seemed much fairer before Bucky Barnes.

“Thanks, Buck,” you rolled your eyes as he finished the bottle easily, crushing it in his palm and laughing at you, walking back to hand it to you.

“No, no,” he nudged your boot with his. “Thank you,” he went back to stacking and distributing hay as you said a quiet goodbye and told him you’d see him later.

You hated when the team was away.

While you’d made some friends in Wakanda, you were still finding your way and mostly felt in the way of working alongside the Wakandan defence and communications teams. They used a lot more sophisticated tech than Stark had ever provided you and you’d never admit it out loud, the tech was somewhat confusing at times, thanks to its gross advancement over what you were used to.

You’d always be thankful for T’Challa and his family for taking you into the palace grounds, a necessity, T’Challa explained. It was beyond amazing and his lovely mother, Ramonda, fussed over you to ensure you were comfortable at all times. It was nice to feel so welcome, but so lonely without your family.

Steve, Nat and Sam had left days ago. Wanda and Vis were off the radar (lie, you knew they were having some kind of rendezvous in Europe and had no intentions of interrupting whatever was or had developed between them).

That left Bucky.

After he’d been woken from cryo, Shuri had run every test known to man on him to assist in the removal of the trigger words, he’d gratefully taken up residence away from the hustle and bustle of the wondrous city and hauled his ass out to the farmlands, simply requesting the peace, privacy and quiet. For the first time in over 100 years, he was able to be his own man without fear of retribution. Sure, the dark memories flickered occasionally, but the words would never hurt him again.

He enjoyed the serenity in the sounds of nature, with the exception of an iPod that Sam had gifted to get him up to speed on more modern music than the 1940’s bops Bucky was more accustomed to –

You sighed, hearing the knock at the door, interrupting the reverie of mindless TV. It was late, too late for guests. After dinner, you’d showered and retired to your PJ’s – your threadbare, well-worn Yankees shirt (your first souvenir of New York City when SHIELD moved you there years earlier regardless of your disinterest in baseball) and loose PJ pants. “Coming,” you replied, pushing yourself up to open the door, surprised to see Bucky on the other side - cleaned up, void of sweat and dust in lazy sweat pants and a white t-shirt. A casual Bucky Barnes. This new development was not helping your crush. Not in the slightest. “Hey. You lost?” you teased lightly.

He showed you a bottle of Glenfidditch and you chuckled a little, moving from the way to let him in. Closing the door behind him, you leaned back against it, a little confused about his visit as Bucky simply didn’t visit anyone aside from Steve or Shuri. You only visited Bucky occasionally to make sure he wasn’t segregating himself, but he did usually prefer his own company when Steve wasn’t around.

“Got ice?” he asked, going to the kitchenette for a couple of tumblers.

“I don’t actually – if I’m going to drink aged whiskey, I’ll be doing it properly.”

“Ooh,” Bucky cooed, a small grin growing on his lips. “A woman after my own heart.”

“Blame Steve – a few years back when we all moved to the Tower… fuck, just after Ultron maybe? Steve brought out a bottle of this stuff and I’ve been a convert ever since. He said you guys would destroy bottles together.”

“Well, he did. I would drink responsibly though I didn’t know at the time I could put them back as well as Steve could with the serum running through my veins,” he said, bringing the glasses to the coffee table, cracking the top and pouring you each a glass. “Are you gonna join me or hang out by the door?”

“Sorry,” your face flushed as you skittered over and sat at the other end of the couch. He handed you a glass and gave you gentle ‘cheers’ before you sat in silence for a while, enjoying the smooth amber liquid. “…Bucky, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you here?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “I dunno – you seemed a bit forlorn today. Thought I’d try and be a friend,” he shrugged. “You’ve been pretty accommodating to me since we got here. I guess I could repay the favour even if you’re only checking in on me for Steve. And you’ve got air conditioning,” he tossed in the joke to try and lighten the mood.

“Steve didn’t ask me to keep tabs on you,” you admitted.

“Oh,” Bucky said, sipping his whiskey and easing back on the couch. “Do you like it out here?”

You chewed your lip, dropping your eyes to the glass. “I mean, it’s a hellova lot better than being shipped out to The Raft,” you admitted as he stifled a chuckle.

“True.”

“If I’m going to be on the run for associating with the team, it might as well be in one of the most securest places on the planet.”

“You chose well,” Bucky agreed.

“Would have been stupid for me not to take it. I owe T’Challa, and Steve, a lot.”

“They’re good men.”

“Absolutely.”

Silence overtook the room again though there was no discomfort with it.

“Thanks for havin’ a drink with me,” Bucky said as he polished off his glass. “It’s getting late,” he got to his feet.

“Oh,” you said, surprised. “Okay.”

“I don’t want to impose,” he said with a gentle shrug, collecting his tumbler.

“You’re not imposing. It’s nice to have the company, to be honest,” you confessed.

“'Nother glass then?”

“Definitely,” you said, hoping not to appear too eager. Bucky gave a small nod and poured again.

“I know I’m not much of a talker,” he told you as you sat and cradled your glass close to your chest.

“I just enjoy the company regardless of noise levels,” you shrugged. “It’s different when the team is here, but when they aren’t…”

“When they aren’t?” he pressed.

“I have too much time with my thoughts.”

He raised a glass. “I hear that.”

Your glass joined his. “Why are you in the farmlands then and not in the palace?”

He nodded slowly as you hoped you hadn’t overstepped the mark. Blame the first glass of booze – less than tipsy you would never ask such a question. “Just tryin’ to earn my keep – least I can do since T’Challa is harbouring an international war criminal, assassin, murderer – ”

You gave a gentle laugh. “He’s not harbouring you.”

“Protecting me then,” Bucky corrected himself.

“Maybe protecting you,” you admitted, agreeing.

You both continued a polite conversation, mostly about Steve and the team before you both started dozing at your respective ends of the couch. “I should really head out now,” Bucky said.

“Stay, it’s a million degrees out there.”

He gave you an incredulous look that told you he knew what you were saying, but staying was still a terrible idea. Suddenly overwhelmed, you realised it completely sounded like a blatant invite for sex. It wasn’t, you thought. Was it?

Trying telling your libido that.

“If you stay on your side of the bed, Bucky, and I stay on mine, we won’t have any issues,” you try to regain your composure.

“Are you completely sure?” he looked about as convinced as you thought you were.

“My God, it’s sleep,” you told him. “I would never deny you, of all people, Bucky, sleep.”

Bucky nodded slowly. “Okay. Thank you.”

“It’s far too hot to stay out there overnight. Enjoy a night’s sleep in the air con,” you joked. “If you enjoy sleeping in comfy climates, hey, you might even move in here.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Here?”

You blinked a few times, not catching his tease. “Yeah, like here, the palace.”

He laughed. “Okay.”

“Oh, you thought in here. With me,” you barked a laugh, getting off the couch and heading for the bed, Bucky following a safe distance away. You stifled your discomfort with snark, “Oh, darling,” you leaned forward to cup Bucky’s stubbly chin. “Don’t think so highly of yourself.”

“Oh darlin’, don’t fall for me so quickly. It’ll only end in heartbreak,” he mocked in return. You laughed incredulously, thinking to yourself, ‘too fuckin’ late, buddy’ and moving to your side of the King bed and pulling the pillows towards yourself.

“If you’re truly concerned, here. Build a pillow wall with me. Put that hay bailin’ practice to good use.”

He sighed with a gentle smile, he was thoroughly enjoying this cheeky banter you’d suddenly worked into your conversation and helped you build the Great Wall of pillows.

“Perfect,” you said, fixing the last pillow in place.

“That is an impressive pillow wall,” Bucky concluded, stifling a laugh. “Failsafe.”

“Make yourself comfy,” you told him, laying back as he pulled off his soft cotton t-shirt and folded it, placing it neatly on the bedside table next to him, a habit he’d picked up in military training in the 40s and never really lost it, no matter what control he was under, you imagined.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he told you. “It is a lot nicer inside than out.”

“Told you,” you replied with a chuckle, raising a fist to him over the wall.

“What is that?” he chucked.

“My knuckles? You’ve never knocked ‘knuckles’ with someone? A fist bump?”

He laughed louder. “No, I’ve never fist-bumped.”

“Then hit my knuckles with yours,” you instructed as Bucky did as he was told.  Still confused for a second, his hand met yours gently before opening and clutching your wrist in his warm, rough-skinned hand and bringing your open hand to his lips. The rules of the pillow wall were suddenly crumbling before you. Destroyed so easily.

“You need to behave,” you told him, suddenly very nervous.

“I’m finding it so hard. We’re here and I know it’s not just me that is feeling this, sugar,” he continued kissing to your wrist and moving towards your inner elbow as he got to his knees. Your body betrayed you as goose pimples shot up and down your spine and you found yourself sitting up opposite him. “All I wanna do is compromise this pillow wall.”

You could cut the tension in the cool room with a knife as your eyes burned into his. Chewing his lip, he made no secret of his intentions as he licked his mouth and walloped the pillow wall away.

Suddenly there was no divide and you were looking at each like they were your last meals. “Can I kiss you?” he asked shyly.

“If you don’t, I’m going to kiss you,” you retorted as he skimmed across the sheets to you and pulled your body flush to his. He sunk his fingers into your hair and pulled your face to his, leaving a small kiss on your waiting lips.

“Is that okay?” he asked, almost afraid.

“More,” you demanded as a reply. There was nothing forgiving about it – you were suddenly craving him – his mouth, his touch, his body, his scent and he was surrounding you in a way no other person had before.

He moved back a little. “One minute – I gotta explain…” he breathed gently. “This is kind of my first time being intimate in a long time. I know this,” he looked at his left shoulder, ashamed. “I know it’s not sexy. And if you don’t want to be with me because of it - ”

You grasped his face in your hands, forcing his eyes to meet yours and kissed him lightly. “Believe me when I say I do not care, Bucky. I know you do but I need you to know, this changes nothing for me.”

“I’ve imagined this so many times with you, pleasing you and now we’re here, I just…” his soft Brooklyn accent rumbled. “I just imagined it as me. The old me.”

Your head spun – he felt the same way? Jesus Christ, assassin school taught him surely how to fool you into believing he barely knew you existed.

“Well, I only know this, Bucky – I’m pretty crazy about you.”

His eyes flickered. Maybe it was emotion, you weren’t sure.

“You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.”

This time, he blushed.

“So maybe, you should just lay back,” you said, helping guide him to do so, his head settling amongst the remains of the disastrous pillow wall and you kissed him, he moaned just loud enough to hear. “And we have a good time, okay?”

He nodded, nervously. “Okay.”

“Now, relax,” you said, unsure where your confidence was coming from but you knew he needed you to lead him and you were going to treat him right. He deserved this – you, and all of you. All for him.

You ungracefully tossed the sheets from the bed, they’d just be getting in the way and crawled towards Bucky’s feet, grabbing the loose elasticised ankles and pulling at them, the sweats he wore drawn from his slender hips, descending his powerful thighs and calves before you disregarded them all together, leaving him solely in boxer briefs. Calvin Klein, how so very rude.

And dear, if your mouth didn’t water at the surprise he poorly hid in them.

Kissing his ankle and working your lips up the inside of his legs, tickling behind his knee, he shuddered. He shuddered hard. “Fuck,” he muttered. You smiled against his skin, lips moving again, your hands massaging his powerful thighs. Stopping at his waist, you crept onto his lap and pulled away your shirt. Bucky sighed, his hand reaching out to touch you. You leaned closer to him as his arm skirted around you, pulling your body flush to his to kiss you, your tongue tracing his full lips as he enthusiastically opened his mouth for your tongues to meet. His hand scalded your skin as he groped at you lightly, cascaded your side and tangled into your hair, deepening the kiss as his hips started to move beneath your body, his cock needing the friction.

You paused and raised a finger to him. He raised a confused eyebrow as you scampered off him to lose your sweats, no panties underneath. You didn’t let him get a good, long look at you before you moved to rid him of his boxers, hard cock free and you gave him a few encouraging pumps, his eyes rolling back. “Sweet Jesus,” he begged for mercy. “Please.”

“Please?” you raised a teasing eyebrow and sat on your knees between his muscular thighs. He was asking you to go down on him. You’d never felt so willing before to please a man as you were for to do for Bucky.

“Please,” he tried again as you could see this man didn’t need to be teased, he just needed to be wanted. Adored. Loved.

“Okay. Okay, now you sit back, Barnes. And you let me take care of the rest.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he tucked his arm behind his head, licking his lips as you took him in your palms before an encouraging kiss to the head and taking him into your mouth. “Dear God,” he managed to say through groans. His hand found your hair again, pushing your hair from your face to see what he thought was the most beautiful mouth he’d ever seen work over his body. “Baby, that is so good. So hot,” he encouraged, clutching roughly but not enough to hurt, just enough to spur you on. You continued your ministrations for a few minutes more before he guided you away from him, gasping. “Baby, stop. I’ll come.”

You blinked at him. “That’s okay,” you promised. “I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

He grinned at you. “I’m sure you can. But I don’t want to come in your mouth,” he admitted shyly.

“Oh,” you gave a gentle nod. “I thought I was doing something wrong.”

He shook his head, alarmed. “God, no. You were a little too good at what you were doing,” he reassured you. “Get up here,” he pulled you to his face to meet him for a lingering kiss. “You could kill a man with that mouth.”

“I doubt that,” you got suddenly shy, burying your blushing face in his neck as he guided your face back to his.

“Don’t get bashful now, sweetheart,” he gazed at you like you were about the best damn thing he’d ever seen. You didn’t know how or why, but the look turned you on more than any act prior to right then. You just wanted to make him happy, release him, and feel him come apart under your hands. “I have an admission to make, and fuck, I hope this doesn’t come across as shitty…” he said quietly.

“What’s that?” you asked, suddenly feeling very exposed regardless of you lack of clothing.

“Uhh… I don’t know, logistically, how I make this work without you on toppa me, baby. I’m sorry, I don’t want to crush you if something goes wrong,” he looked as though he wanted the bed to eat him whole.

And why, you don’t know. But his admission gave you the confidence you didn’t expect. “Is this you suggesting I ride you?” you gave a small giggle as he chewed his lip.

“Lil’ bit, yeah. I know that sounds so goddamn selfish – ”

“Giving me the power over you makes you selfish?”

“Well, it takes away a fair amount of effort,” he reasoned. “And you know, I wanna show you what I can do…” his voice trailed off, timidly.

And suddenly you understood. This wasn’t just about a missing limb – this was the pain and terror from all those years ago. The raw, never-ending trauma of Bucky’s initial testing, falling from the train in the Alps. Losing his arm seemed so minute in all of it. Years of physical and mental abuse, and psychological torment at the hands of HYDRA, of the Soviets, whoever was the highest bidder for The Winter Soldier.

This was touch, connection, feeling wanted and adored – oh, how needed to Bucky understand how much you wanted to be the person to help him.

You tutted him and inhaled, gently cupping his cheek, choosing compassion. “Relax, handsome, lay back and enjoy,” you instructed as he nodded slightly and wrapped his scorching hand around your ribs. It was such a simple act, but it turned you on so much. It felt possessive, wanted. “I want to make you feel so fucking good – will you let me?”

You don’t know why you asked, but you knew you needed to hear him tell you he wanted this too. “Yes,” he nodded shyly. “Hell yes.”

“Okay,” you leaned down to kiss him, reached between your bodies and in your warm hands, adjusted your body on his. Viewing Bucky as he felt you sheath your body around his was as good as it could ever get – his plumb lips drawn into his gleaming white teeth, his bright blue eyes hidden behind his long lashes. Giving him some time to adjust, just like you were to his size encouraged you as he lightly raised his hips in hopes for you to move. “You good?” you asked again.

“Better than, amazing,” he told you, gripping your hip and your body slowly started to move above him. “Jesus Christ,” he uttered, raising his eyes to look at you.

Taking his hand and linking your fingers as you relaxed and stopped trying to ensure his good time (it appeared ensured) and sinking into feeling so good yourself, you moved your hips more, craving Bucky deeper, hoping to find that elusive little spot to make you explode.

“Touch yourself?” he pleaded quietly. “Please, sugar?”

Appeasing him happily, he watched your free hand creep down your body and open yourself up to where your bodies met, your fingers putting on a show as you toyed with yourself just for his dark, lust-filled eyes. Your body tightened under the pressure and Bucky’s pleasured grunts and curses was certainly on the rise. His hand relinquished yours as he clutched onto your ass, forcing you rougher into him, his tempo speeding up and urging you to do the same from the friction his body caused yours.

“God, you feel so good. So wet, so warm,” he muttered, his breathing deepening as his hips haphazardly fired into you. “Are you close?” he asked desperately. You were, you so fucking were, you realised, his simple question bringing you even closer. You nodded as you pressed harder against your clit, desperate for your own release and of course, his.

He needs this, you reminded yourself. You needed this. “Fuck, yes,” you replied as he used his abs to sit up, suddenly so much deeper into you as you looked at each other face to face, chest to chest and Bucky kissed you. He kissed you with those beautiful lips and a tongue that knew exactly how you wanted to be kissed as he moaned into your mouth. He wrapped his arm around your waist and took a nipple into your mouth as you started to come – that was the move, the special way to push you over the edge. Realising this, Bucky grinned and looked at you, using those pearly whites to chew lightly and you were coming. Coming so hard that you felt like you might have seen stars as he let out a litany of curses and came hard too.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Bucky breathed, chest heaving as he rolled onto his back, taking your body down with him, keeping you wrapped in his embrace and softening inside you. Bucky Barnes liked to cuddle, you realised.

“Holy shit,” you managed to say as you tried to settle your breathing. “That was fantastic.”

“Really?” he asked bashfully. He looked you in the eye and begged you weren’t lying to him. You nodded and tenderly kissed him. “Good,” he gave a small, shy smile and suddenly appeared so boyish. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have the thank me,” you told him. “Trust me, I’m just glad you stayed.”

“Fuck, me too,” he laughed. “Me too.”

Hearing your phone beep, you shot up through the heaviness across your chest and halted you. Bucky’s body subdued you – the body heat he exhumed was hot and stifling. He groaned, pulling you back down to him.

“They’ll call back,” he muttered. “Sleep.”

“It’s the team,” you whispered back. He breathed heavily, reaching out for the phone for you reluctantly and putting it in your hands. Relief washed through you. The team, including Wanda and Vis, were returning to Wakanda imminently. “Did you sleep okay?”

Yawning, Bucky slightly freed you from his grasp. “You weren’t wrong about sleeping comfortably – I mean, I don’t deserve to, but it was the most relaxing sleep I’ve had in years.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Bucky. Truly.”

He soothingly kissed your naked shoulder. “Thank you for last night.”

“I just hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“So much,” he breathed against your skin, rolling you to your back and lightly pining your body under his. You loved the feel of his weight on your body. You would come to crave it. Addicted and all in less than 12 hours. You’d fallen so hard, so fast. “Did you?”

“Yes,” you couldn’t lie. Bucky’s body was made for a multitude of sins and loving on a woman? The top. He kissed each eyelid that fluttered closed under his touch, the tip of your nose, his mouth travelling through your throat to your décolletage. “Behave…” you teased, your fingers lacing into his long, dark, loose waves.

He laughed into your skin. “Okay,” he nudged your knees apart, his hips meeting yours. He felt as if he was flying – he’d never imagined the confidence he felt, that you’d given to him. Or how you could have destroyed it by rejecting him. The power you had over him was stifling. That was a hellova lot scarier than what was to eventually come.

“What did I say?”

“You told me to behave.”

“And what did you do?”

“The exact opposite,” he admitted. “I just can’t seem to keep my mitts offa you. You’ve opened the floodgates, sugar. I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same again.”

Your phone beeping incessantly now, you found yourself in a world where only you and Bucky ceased to exist. The rest of the world could wait another hour.

[newtonsheffield]

Is Kate not his biggest fan bc her Appa Is? 🥺

Just imagining him completely nerding out and it warming Kate's heart times a million and it sure doesnt hurt Anthony's ego to make the love of his life's favorite person happy

Tharman Sharma is certainly a big Anthony Bridgerton fan. It’s kind of hard not to be. He’s cocky, sure but he has the talent to back it up. He was a fan before Anthony started saying his daughter. After Anthony starts dating his daughter? Anthony Bridgerton is one of the all time greats.

Anthony has let him see the Cub Clubhouse!

But imagine the horror, the affront, when a rumour starts that Anthony’s agreed to waive his no trade clause and consider offers from the cardinals. What an allegation. Disgusting, actually. He’s straight on the phone.

“Anthony, what’s this I’m hearing?!”

“It’s true… I am going to be in a Nike campaign?”

“Cut it.” Tharman said, “Why are you going to the Cards?! Or the Yankees apparently?”

“I don’t think I can go to the Yankees,” Anthony mused, “I wouldn’t look good with just a moustache and they’re so strict on that.”

“You’re a Cub! Ever since you were a rookie!”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Anthony chuckled, “It’s just a rumour, Tharman. I look too good in blue pinstripes to leave now.”

“You’re damn right you do.”

[kaijuno]

In light of Fall Out Boy’s GARBAGE cover of the song. Let’s learn about the original. Notice how they’re actually in chronological order instead of just random references 😒😒😒😒

1949

Harry Truman was inaugurated as U.S. president after being elected in 1948 to his own term; previously he was sworn in following the death of Franklin D. Roosevelt. He authorized the use of atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in Japan during World War II, on August 6 and August 9, 1945, respectively.

Doris Day enters the public spotlight with the films My Dream Is Yours and It’s a Great Feeling as well as popular songs like “It’s Magic”; divorces her second husband.

Red China: The Communist Party of China wins the Chinese Civil War, establishing the People’s Republic of China.

Johnnie Ray signs his first recording contract with Okeh Records, although he would not become popular for another two years.

South Pacific, the prize-winning musical, opens on Broadway on April 7.

Walter Winchell is an aggressive radio and newspaper journalist credited with inventing the gossip column.

Joe DiMaggio and the New York Yankees go to the World Series five times in the 1940s, winning four of them.

1950

Joe McCarthy, the US Senator, gains national attention and begins his anti-communist crusade with his Lincoln Day speech.

Richard Nixon is first elected to the United States Senate.

Studebaker, a popular car company, begins its financial downfall.

Television is becoming widespread throughout Europe and North America.

North Korea and South Korea declare war after Northern forces stream south on June 25.

Marilyn Monroe soars in popularity with five new movies, including The Asphalt Jungle and All About Eve, and attempts suicide after the death of friend Johnny Hyde who asked to marry her several times, but she refused respectfully. Monroe would later (1954) be married for a brief time to Joe DiMaggio (mentioned in the previous verse).

1951

The Rosenbergs, Ethel and Julius, were convicted on March 29 for espionage.

H-Bomb is in the middle of its development as a nuclear weapon, announced in early 1950 and first tested in late 1952.

Sugar Ray Robinson, a champion welterweight boxer.

Panmunjom, the border village in Korea, is the location of truce talks between the parties of the Korean War.

Marlon Brando is nominated for the Academy Award for Best Actor for his role in A Streetcar Named Desire.

The King and I, musical, opens on Broadway on March 29.

The Catcher in the Rye, a controversial novel by J. D. Salinger, is published.

1952

Dwight D. Eisenhower is first elected as U.S. president, winning by a landslide margin of 442 to 89 electoral votes.

The vaccine for polio is privately tested by Jonas Salk.

England’s got a new queen: Queen Elizabeth II succeeds to the throne upon the death of her father, George VI, and is crowned the next year.

Rocky Marciano defeats Jersey Joe Walcott, becoming the world Heavyweight champion.

Liberace has a popular 1950s television show for his musical entertainment.

Santayana goodbye: George Santayana, philosopher, essayist, poet, and novelist, dies on September 26.

1953

Joseph Stalin dies on March 5, yielding his position as leader of the Soviet Union.

Georgy Maksimilianovich Malenkov succeeds Stalin for six months following his death. Malenkov had presided over Stalin’s purges of party “enemies”, but would be spared a similar fate by Nikita Khrushchev mentioned later in verse.

Gamal Abdel Nasser acts as the true power behind the new Egyptian nation as Muhammad Naguib’s minister of the interior.

Sergei Prokofiev, the composer, dies on March 5, the same day as Stalin.

Winthrop Rockefeller and his wife Barbara are involved in a highly publicized divorce, culminating in 1954 with a record-breaking $5.5 million settlement.

Roy Campanella, an African-American baseball catcher for the Brooklyn Dodgers, receives the National League’s Most Valuable Player award for the second time.

Communist bloc is a group of communist nations dominated by the Soviet Union at this time. Probably a reference to the Uprising of 1953 in East Germany.

1954

Roy Cohn resigns as Joseph McCarthy’s chief counsel and enters private practice with the fall of McCarthy. He also worked to prosecute the Rosenbergs, mentioned earlier.

Juan Perón spends his last full year as President of Argentina before a September 1955 coup.

Arturo Toscanini is at the height of his fame as a conductor, performing regularly with the NBC Symphony Orchestra on national radio.

Dacron is an early artificial fiber made from the same plastic as polyester.

Dien Bien Phu falls. A village in North Vietnam falls to Viet Minh forces under Vo Nguyen Giap, leading to the creation of North Vietnam and South Vietnam as separate states.

“Rock Around the Clock” is a hit single released by Bill Haley & His Comets in May, spurring worldwide interest in rock and roll music.

1955

Albert Einstein dies on April 18 at the age of 76.

James Dean achieves success with East of Eden and Rebel Without a Cause, gets nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor, and dies in a car accident on September 30 at the age of 24.

Brooklyn’s got a winning team: The Brooklyn Dodgers win the World Series for the only time before their move to Los Angeles.

Davy Crockett is a Disney television miniseries about the legendary frontiersman of the same name. The show was a huge hit with young boys and inspired a short-lived “coonskin cap” craze.

Peter Pan is broadcast on TV live and in color from the 1954 version of the stage musical starring Mary Martin on March 7. Disney released an animated version the previous year.

Elvis Presley signs with RCA Records on November 21, beginning his pop career.

Disneyland opens on July 17, 1955 as Walt Disney’s first theme park.

1956

Brigitte Bardot appears in her first mainstream film And God Created Woman and establishes an international reputation as a French “sex kitten”.

Budapest is the capital city of Hungary and site of the 1956 Hungarian Revolution.

Alabama is the site of the Montgomery Bus Boycott which ultimately led to the removal of the last race laws in the USA. Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King, Jr figure prominently.

Nikita Khrushchev makes his famous Secret Speech denouncing Stalin’s “cult of personality” on February 25.

Princess Grace Kelly releases her last film, High Society, and marries Prince Rainier III of Monaco.

Peyton Place, the best-selling novel by Grace Metalious, is published. Though mild compared to today’s prime time, it shocked the reserved values of the 1950s.

Trouble in the Suez: The Suez Crisis boils as Egypt nationalizes the Suez Canal on October 29.

1957

Little Rock, Arkansas is the site of an anti-integration standoff, as Governor Orval Faubus stops the Little Rock Nine from attending Little Rock Central High School and President Dwight D. Eisenhower deploys the 101st Airborne Division to counteract him.

Boris Pasternak, the Russian author, publishes his famous novel Doctor Zhivago.

Mickey Mantle is in the middle of his career as a famous New York Yankees outfielder and American League All-Star for the sixth year in a row.

Jack Kerouac publishes his first novel in seven years, On the Road.

Sputnik becomes the first artificial satellite, launched by the Soviet Union on October 4, marking the start of the space race.

Chou En-Lai, Premier of the People’s Republic of China, survives an assassination attempt on the charter airliner Kashmir Princess.

Bridge on the River Kwai is released as a film adaptation of the 1954 novel and receives seven Academy Awards, including Best Picture.

1958

Lebanon is engulfed in a political and religious crisis that eventually involves U.S. intervention.

Charles de Gaulle is elected first president of the French Fifth Republic following the Algerian Crisis.

California baseball begins as the Brooklyn Dodgers and New York Giants move to California and become the Los Angeles Dodgers and San Francisco Giants. They are the first major league teams west of Kansas City.

Charles Starkweather Homicide captures the attention of Americans, in which he kills eleven people between January 25 and 29 before being caught in a massive manhunt in Douglas, Wyoming.

Children of Thalidomide: Mothers taking the drug Thalidomide had children born with congenital birth defects caused by the sleeping aid and antiemetic, which was also used at times to treat morning sickness.

1959

Buddy Holly dies in a plane crash on February 3 with Ritchie Valens and The Big Bopper, in a day that had a devastating impact on the country and youth culture. Joel prefaces the lyric with a Holly signature vocal hiccup: “Uh-huh, uh-huh.”

Ben-Hur, a film based around the New Testament starring Charlton Heston, wins eleven Academy Awards, including Best Picture.

Space Monkey: Able and Miss Baker return to Earth from space aboard the flight Jupiter AM-18.

The Mafia are the center of attention for the FBI and public attention builds to this organized crime society with a historically Sicilian-American origin.

Hula hoops reach 100 million in sales as the latest toy fad.

Fidel Castro comes to power after a revolution in Cuba and visits the United States later that year on an unofficial twelve-day tour.

Edsel is a no-go: Production of this car marque ends after only three years due to poor sales.

1960

U-2: An American U-2 spy plane piloted by Francis Gary Powers was shot down over the Soviet Union, causing the U-2 Crisis of 1960.

Syngman Rhee was rescued by the CIA after being forced to resign as leader of South Korea for allegedly fixing an election and embezzling more than US $20 million.

Payola, illegal payments for radio broadcasting of songs, was publicized due to Dick Clark’s testimony before Congress and Alan Freed’s public disgrace.

John F. Kennedy beats Richard Nixon in the November 8 general election.

Chubby Checker popularizes the dance The Twist with his cover of the song of the same name.

Psycho: An Alfred Hitchcock thriller, based on a pulp novel by Robert Bloch and adapted by Joseph Stefano, which becomes a landmark in graphic violence and cinema sensationalism. The screeching violins heard briefly in the background of the song are a trademark of the film’s soundtrack.

Belgians in the Congo: The Republic of the Congo (Leopoldville) was declared independent of Belgium on June 30, with Joseph Kasavubu as President and Patrice Lumumba as Prime Minister.

1961

Ernest Hemingway commits suicide on July 2 after a long battle with depression.

Adolf Eichmann, a “most wanted” Nazi war criminal, is traced to Argentina and captured by Mossad agents. He is covertly taken to Israel where he is put on trial for crimes against humanityin Germany during World War II, convicted, and hanged.

Stranger in a Strange Land, written by Robert A. Heinlein, is a breakthrough best-seller with themes of sexual freedom and liberation.

Bob Dylan is signed to Columbia Records after a New York Times review by critic Robert Shelton.

Berlin is separated into West Berlin and East Berlin, and from the rest of East Germany, when the Berlin Wall is erected on August 13 to prevent citizens escaping to the West.

The Bay of Pigs Invasion fails, an attempt by United States-trained Cuban exiles to invade Cuba and overthrow Fidel Castro.

1962

Lawrence of Arabia: The Academy Award-winning film based on the life of T. E. Lawrence starring Peter O’Toole premieres in America on December 16.

British Beatlemania: The Beatles, a British rock group, gain Ringo Starr as drummer and Brian Epstein as manager, and join the EMI’s Parlophone label. They soon become the world’s most famous rock band, with the word “Beatlemania” adopted by the press for their fans’ unprecedented enthusiasm. It also began the British Invasion in the United States.

Ole’ Miss: James Meredith integrates the University of Mississippi

John Glenn: Flew the first American manned orbital mission termed “Friendship 7” on February 20.

Liston beats Patterson: Sonny Liston and Floyd Patterson fight for the world heavyweight championship on September 25, ending in a first-round knockout. This match marked the first time Patterson had ever been knocked out and one of only eight losses in his 20-year professional career.

1963

Pope Paul VI: Cardinal Giovanni Montini is elected to the papacy and takes the papal name of Paul VI.

Malcolm X makes his infamous statement “The chickens have come home to roost” about the Kennedy assassination, thus causing the Nation of Islam to censor him.

British politician sex: The British Secretary of State for War, John Profumo, has a relationship with a showgirl, and then lies when questioned about it before the House of Commons. When the truth came out, it led to his own resignation and undermined the credibility of the Prime Minister.

JFK blown away: President John F. Kennedy is assassinated on November 22 while riding in an open convertible through Dallas.

1965

Birth control: In the early 1960s, oral contraceptives, popularly known as “the pill”, first go on the market and are extremely popular. Griswold v. Connecticut in 1965 challenged a Connecticut law prohibiting contraceptives. In 1968, Pope Paul VI released a papal encyclical entitled Humanae Vitae which declared artificial birth control a sin.

Ho Chi Minh: A Vietnamese communist, who served as President of Vietnam from 1954–1969. March 2 Operation Rolling Thunder begins bombing of the Ho Chi Minh Trail supply line from North Vietnam to the Vietcong rebels in the south. On March 8, the first U.S. combat troops, 3,500 marines, land in South Vietnam.

1968

Richard Nixon back again: Former Vice President Nixon is elected President in 1968.

1969

Moonshot: Apollo 11, the first manned lunar landing, successfully lands on the moon.

Woodstock: Famous rock and roll festival of 1969 that came to be the epitome of the counterculture movement.

1974–75

Watergate: Political scandal that began when the Democratic National Committee’s headquarters at the Watergate office complex in Washington, DC was broken into. After the break-in, word began to spread that President Richard Nixon (a Republican) may have known about the break-in, and tried to cover it up. The scandal would ultimately result in the resignation of President Nixon, and to date, this remains the only time that anyone has ever resigned the United States Presidency.

Punk rock: The Ramones form, with the Sex Pistols following in 1975, bringing in the punk era.

1976–77

(An item from 1977 comes before three items from 1976 to make the song scan.)

Menachem Begin becomes Prime Minister of Israel in 1977 and negotiates the Camp David Accords with Egypt’s president in 1978.

Ronald Reagan was elected President of the United States in 1980, but he first attempted to run for the position in 1976.

Palestine: a United Nations resolution that calls for an independent Palestinian state and to end the Israeli occupation.

Terror on the airline: Numerous aircraft hijackings take place, specifically, the Palestinian hijack of Air France Flight 139 and the subsequent Operation Entebbe in Uganda.

1979

Ayatollah’s in Iran: During the Iranian Revolution of 1979, the West-backed and secular Shah is overthrown as the Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini gains power after years in exile and forces Islamic law.

Russians in Afghanistan: Following their move into Afghanistan, Soviet forces fight a ten-year war, from 1979 to 1989.

1983

Wheel of Fortune: A hit television game show which has been TV’s highest-rated syndicated program since 1983.

Sally Ride: In 1983 she becomes the first American woman in space. Ride’s quip from space “Better than an E-ticket”, harkens back to the opening of Disneyland mentioned earlier, with the E-ticket purchase needed for the best rides.

Heavy metal suicide: In the 1980s Ozzy Osbourne and the bands Judas Priest and Metallica were brought to court by parents who accused the musicians of hiding subliminal pro-suicide messages in their music.

Foreign debts: Persistent U.S. trade deficits

Homeless vets: Veterans of the Vietnam War, including many disabled ex-military, are reported to be left homeless and impoverished.

AIDS: A collection of symptoms and infections in humans resulting from the specific damage to the immune system caused by infection with the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV). It is first detected and recognized in the 1980s, and was on its way to becoming a pandemic.

Crack cocaine use surged in the mid-to-late 1980s.

1984

Bernie Goetz: On December 22, Goetz shot four young men who he said were threatening him on a New York City subway. Goetz was charged with attempted murder but was acquitted of the charges, though convicted of carrying an unlicensed gun.

1988

Hypodermics on the shore: Medical waste was found washed up on beaches in New Jersey after being illegally dumped at sea. Before this event, waste dumped in the oceans was an “out of sight, out of mind” affair. This has been cited as one of the crucial turning points in popular opinion on environmentalism.

1989

China’s under martial law: On May 20, China declares martial law, enabling them to use force of arms against protesting students to end the Tiananmen Square protests.

Rock-and-roller cola wars: Soft drink giants Coke and Pepsi each run marketing campaigns using rock & roll and popular music stars to reach the teenage and young adult demographic.

Short summaries of all 119 references mentioned in the song, you’re welcome.

[dinosaurwithablog]

Juan Soto was so kind to the fans today. He waved to us every time that he took the field, and he threw a ball to us every time that he could. I've sat in these seats many, many times, and Juan Soto is the first and only player who has done this. Aaron Judge never acknowledged the fans and never threw a ball our way. The Mariners right fielders never did either. I love Juan Soto. I hope that he is a Yankee forever 🙏🏼😍 I thoroughly enjoyed watching him play today. Let's go Yankees!!!!!

[joeyalohadream]

WIP Wednesday

rules: post a snippet from one of your current WIPs and pass on the love by tagging other writers.

Tagged by @reallylilyreally (Thank you!!)

Choosing 'Cooler Fic' part two for this one because it's all I'm working on until it's finished. Here's a snippet!

“Don’t say sorry,” Bucky tells him before the words can fall from his lips, because he knows they’re coming. He sets the bowl to the side, out of Gale’s view. “I really don’t want to hear the word sorry from you until we’re back on American soil and you’re apologizing for not understanding the difference between a ball and a strike at the Yankees game I’m taking you to.” “If it’ll save us some time, I can just apologize for that now,” Gale rasps out, grimacing around every word. Bucky chuckles, not surprised one bit. He feels the muscles under his hand trembling in Gale’s back. “You cold?” “Think it’s the fever,” Gale admits. “Don’t feel good, John.” The words are mumbled into his hip, face half buried. From what Bucky can see, he’s flushed and pale and there’s sweat on his temple and in his hairline. He feels his own chest tighten at the admission, at the quiet misery in his tone. “I know, Buck,” he soothes, fingers scratching his scalp. “Just try to go to sleep, okay? Rest for a bit and you’ll feel better when you wake up.” He hopes he’s not lying. He needs it to be true. “You won’ leave?” It’s whispered, that lazy drawl back. Bucky closes his eyes against the emotions threatening to overwhelm him, forces himself to focus on the affection that blooms in his chest whenever he looks at Gale. “I’m never leaving you, Buck.” Gale goes boneless under his hands and his breathing deepens as sleep pulls him down. His breath hitches, lungs rattling a bit. Bucky stares down and watches him sleep, lets his mind go blank for a while.

Tagging @anachilles , @bucking-mustangs-with-wings , @middlingmay , @ranger-elizabeth

[thelunarbar]

I do have to add more bc they’re some of my favs

There’s a poem;

“There is nothing prettier in the whole world than a girl in love with every breath she takes.”

A t t i c u s

And whenever I see pics like this, of Volpe specifically rn, but anyone really, smiling like this all I see is guys madly in love with life and I always think of that poem ^ by atticus

[of-many-aus]

Rainy Baseball Days

Summary: you and jake watch some baseball together

Warnings: none

A/N: idea given by @clancycucumber230- thank you so much!!

Take Me Out to the Ball Game Masterlist

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“You’re home early.” You didn’t even try to hide the surprise in your tone as you froze in the doorway of the kitchen.

Jake shrugged, glancing over his shoulder from where he sat on the couch, “Practice got rained out.”

You glanced down at the mug in your hand before turning on your heel and entering the kitchen area once more.

When you emerged a few moments later, you now had a mug in each hand.

“Here,” You murmured, gingerly sinking down onto the cushion beside him and offering one of the steaming cups.

His green eyes flickered down, widening the slightest bit at your outstretched arm, “Thanks,” He breathed out, gently taking the bright purple pottery piece that you made years ago with Nat, out of your hand.

You hummed, settling back into the couch and allowing your gaze to travel to the television, pleasantly surprised to see that the Red Sox vs Yankees game was already on.

“Oh, sorry,” Jake fumbled around to find the remote, “What do you want to watch-“

“This.” You interrupted him, eyes still glued to the screen, “I was actually on my way out to turn it on.”

The blond’s eyes lit up at your words, letting them linger on you for a moment as you stared intently at the screen, soaking up the game and completely oblivious to his stare. He bit back a smile as he too turned his attention back to the closeup of the Yankees batter winding up for the pitch.

“Come on,” You muttered, leaning forward in your seat, “Strike him out, let’s go.”

“You’re rooting for the Red Sox, Angel?” Jake's head whipped over to you in mock alarm.

A scoff left your lips. The man braced himself to be snapped at for using that ridiculous- your words, not his- nickname again.

“They’re not my main team, but they’re sure as hell better than the Yankees.”

He blinked once at you, watching as you stared intently at him, completely serious, before a grin grew on his face.

“That is definitely not true,” He argued playfully, “Yankees could beat that team any day.”

Despite yourself, the corner of your lips quirked up the slightest bit, “Like they are right now?” You motioned to the 3-1 score.

His face now held a dazzling grin, as if he was no longer able to hold it back, “It’s only the second inning, Angel, we’ve still got a ways to go.” He tried to hide his obvious delight- whether it was from being able to discuss baseball, or finally being able to talk to you, neither of you seemed to know- by raising the mug to his lips and taking a long sip, only to quickly pull it away with raised eyebrows, “Hot chocolate?” He asked.

You nodded in all seriousness, “It’s my favorite drink, and it’s cold and rainy out, so it’s perfect. Not to mention that it’s too late in the day to have coffee. You’ll never sleep.”

He hummed, taking a long sip of the chocolatey drink. Jake couldn’t even remember the last time he had this. Perhaps it was back when he was a kid and his mother would make it for him and his sisters on a cold winter night.

And then it began. The back and forth bickering that had no real venom behind it, long debates about all the different MLB teams and which one was really the best based on players and past plays.

It was by far the longest you had ever talked to Jake, and surprisingly, you didn’t hate it. Nat had never shown any interest in baseball, except for when she dragged you to Jake's game a week ago, and none of your other friends knew the first thing about it and didn’t care enough to learn or actually sit through a game with you. Talking about it with him was actually refreshing.

It wasn’t until the seventh inning that things finally quieted down between you two, hot chocolate long since finished and each team in the league thoroughly discussed, when you felt your eyelids begin to droop.

You tried to fight it- you really did- but you had a long day with your classes, and your efforts to stay awake rendered useless when you curled up farther into the seat cushion and your tired state won over.

It only took Jake a total of three minutes to look back over at you, mouth open and ready to fire a question about the play that just took place, only for it to snap shut at the sight of your relaxed- and very much asleep- form.

Your breathing had evened out and your head was lulled slightly to the side.

His smile softened as he looked at you and he moved to stand up, but you shifted in your sleep, rolling so that your face was pressed directly on his bicep.

Jake froze, breath hitching in his throat when you showed no sign of stirring from your slumber, and he allowed himself to relax.

He reached over and gently lay a throw blanket from nearby on top of you and turned his attention back to the game.

Taglist: @djs8891 @pono-pura-vida @shanimallina87 @melllinaa @callsignbirdy @fogle97 @randomfandomgirl97 @averyhotchner @blueoorchid @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @misconceptionmistress @ravenclawaddict5285 @j-brielmalfoy @waywardhunter95 @classyunknownlover @whoreforfictionalmen18

[sadie-bug345]

how the gang drives🤡☝️✨🤭

shhhh let's pretend i’ve been active this whole time🧍‍♀️

ponyboy:

surprisingly safe but WHITE KNUCKLING IT THE WHOLE WAY

guy needs to calm downnnnn

seems like he’s super chill on the outside but his whole back and neck is mega tense

takes two tries to pass the drivers test but pony dgaf and just drove without it

prays he doesn’t see a cop cause when he does he gets terrified they’re gonna pull him over and ask for his license and registration

“…does a learners permit count😀☝️?” type beat😭😭

road rage score: 3/10 focuses too much on himself

johnny:

genuinely chilled out

doesnt know anything abt the technicalities of driving though

two-bit once mentioned something abt the “right of way” and johnny turned to him like

“🤨if you don’t stop makin made up words n shit i’m gonna crash this car right now”

two said “so you’re crashing it on purpose this time🤨☝️”

gagged johnny

but anyways yeah johnnycake did hit a socs’ parked car once in a neighborhood and sped off SO FAST

poor guy never heard the end of it from the gang

road rage score: 5/10 solid horn user

sodapop:

i feel like realistically no sensible person would ever let this boy behind the wheel but ANYWAYS

WAY TOO RELAXED like he WILL talk to you about super deep stuff and get real into the conversation if you’re in the passenger seat

like bro will fully turn his head and look at you when you’re talking or smth for minutes on end

guy LOOK AT THE ROAD😭😭

it’s just cause you’re so stunning pookie trust✨🙏

road rage score: 2/10 prob yells in the car but barely anyways

darry:

he’ll talk in the car for sure but it’s usually about what’s going on in the road

like he’ll just make comments about everyone else’s driving skills

also super road rage-y but in a dad typa way

i DESPISE it when people act like darry has a fucking boomer grandpa geriatric ass but in this circumstance it’s true😔

he doesn’t drive like an old person at all but if you cut him off in traffic and you hear some random man yell from behind you “HEY WATCH IT BUDDY” followed by intense honking..

it’s darry and you better speed on outta there real quick 😭

road rage score: 10/10 he’s stressed and works too damn hard to be treated like this by the general public😔

dally:

my MANNNNN🥰🥰🥰

we already know how he drives like bro stole bucks car and i think when buck realized dally took it buck just knew it would be totaled by the time he got it back

like bro takes reckless to another level

speeding, driving w one hand (🫢🫢BADDIE ALERT🚨🚨), not using blinkers and almost totaling the car 20 separate occasions before arriving at his destination

also he totally does not fill up the gas tank as often as he should like bro grinds on empty for miles straight

you’re like “uhhh the gas light just turned on..”

and he’s just like “nahhh ill make it work you jus see”

and he does🤷‍♀️

road rage score: 11/10 doesn’t yell at you w windows rolled down like darry but will tailgate you like there’s no tomorrow. also brake checks people CONSTANTLY

two-bit:

goofy ahh driver😭

when he sees a friend on the street or next to him at an intersection he will do some stupid honk thing like yankee doodle type shit💀

swerves in and out of empty lanes cause he thinks it’s funny to scare the other people in the car

”pity the backseat” got a whole other meaning istg😭

will bang his head against the steering wheel if you’re going too slow

also pimps out his car like there’s no tomorrow bros got all the dumbest most useless decorations possible

road rage score: 6/10

steve:

car nerddddd🤓☝️🫵

only puts premium gas in his tank cause he’s a bit of a snob but it’s steve and his life is cars soooo yk he treats the engine right

that sounds super weird😭

probably the most normal driver during the day but when it comes to drag races he’s absolutely bonkers like nothing held back

cries if someone scratches his car

road rage score: 9/10 super quick to honk and to flip you off like you get into his space one second and then you get death threats i don’t make the rules🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

OK TYSMMMM ILL TRY AND GET MORE ACTIVE AGAIN REQUESTS ARE OPEN OK BYEEEE

[gracemarkss]

redux i and ii are such tough watches because you're witnessing a man try to walk the razor thin line between his fervent hope for a solution, however miraculous, and the increasingly sinking realization that his best friend is going to die. and he's realizing all the things he hasn't said to her, about her integrity and her strength, and all the conversations they've never had about the regular, the mundane, the everyday. the terrible fact that there is not enough time, there will never be enough time. they're losing time again. that in his hubris he led her here, though she would never agree with that. the driving force of his life since his sister's abduction is revealed to be an elaborate conspiracy of men, and the first and only person to give him any measure of purpose since is lying on her deathbed.

and as she's lying there she's still trying to save him. offering herself up, a martyr to the cause that is literally killing her. his work is his life, he told her. nothing else matters, he told her. but it's not true anymore, and when asked what he wants most desperately of all he doesn't hesitate for a second - for her to live.

she's lying there and she's dying and they're running out of time, and there are so many things they'll never talk about and so many things he'll never tell her. and she's trying to destroy herself for him, to give it all some meaning, but it already means so much. it means something because she was his friend. because she cared about him. she protected him. she loved him. that's more than enough. he doesn't need anything else. it's all he needs now. just the two of them and the little time they have left. "hey, scully, how about those yankees?"