#his sense of humor is so DRY

[zhongli-lover-69]

feeling insane abt javert again.

he is a fascinating character to analyze + compare against valjean + is such an interesting personification of the faults of the french legal system, of the way lawfulness can become twisted when not tempered by mercy. dedication to the flawed human construct of justice versus dedication to the religious concept of mercy + forgiveness.

but. more importantly: javert is fucking hilarious. his sense of humor is so dry + off-putting. he takes himself so seriously but his comments are so jarringly silly. i adore my fucked up little plot device of a man.

[yashley]

I watched Twitch once and I got burned.

[lifemod17]

this is it. this is the interview ever.

if anybody needs me, I'll be watching this again and again

[cruel-hiraeth]

single dad toji who goes viral online for giving (solicited) advice the way that only a tired, middle-aged, gruff man can

[moeblob]

Pen doodles from yesterday and then digital for today

Katale and Rudyard but as little crime babies. Since he's known her for a while and just thought she looked like a little street thug despite being higher ranking than him in the crime organization at first, the cat-ear hairstyle was just A Thing for her. And it spawned the nickname he would use in private of "Kitty" and even when she grows her hair out and he grays even more he still calls her Kitty in private. They're literally just bffs who do crime and what more can you want of them??

[ratatatastic]

its finally luosty turns last but not least eh? his topic? cranky sasha 🤣🤣🤣 (whoever came up with these topics wanted to get sasha riled up oh my goddddd)

ofc the way he chooses to show off cranky sasha is through his spartan hockey huh and OF FUCKING COURSE he gets lundy to come up and help him because who else but lundy does sasha crack the good ole whip for IM DYING

he also makes sure to mime in the goal posts too so everyones on the same page that this is of course about hockey because this has turned into an improv exercise mama hes a star hes a THEATRE kid

luosty is very good at mimicing cranky sasha must have lots of time watching him get fussy with lundy huh i can imagine the only directions given to lundy here was act like yourself and somehow that makes this funnier

they absolutely both think luosty is the funniest fucker alive OH MY GOD HE GOT LUNDY TO SMILE (WHICH ISNT MUCH OF AN ACCOMPLISHMENT HES SO SMITTEN WITH HIM) BUT HE GOT MIKKSY TO GIVE A GOOD TOOTHY GRIN TOO LUOSTY WHAT POWERS DO YOU HAVE 😭😭😭😭

he has this whole couch bewitched by his antics oh my fucking god... kicking the bench...throwing the water bottle...cranky sasha indeed

THE WAGGING FINGER AT LUNDY hey man whyd you move your hand to your crotch did that incite any revelations in you do you need to cover something that had unfortunate timing huh do you understand why mikksy cant stand them do you understand now

on another episode of i genuinely dont think anyone else could do this and get sasha this giggly in the midst of it of making fun of him luosty has really charmed them all

Sasha Cup Party | 7.31.24 (x)

[finxwrites]

They used to play the game a lot. One of them would say a name, and they wouldn’t ask the question aloud if they were anywhere even slightly public—secrecy was too ingrained in the three of them, and Mike had taken to it quickly enough—but they’d all hear it anyway: if they were a shifter, what animal would they be? They’d toss ideas back and forth, sometimes settling it at once, sometimes arguing for days. It was more fun than it had any right to be, and it hadn't taken Dustin all that long to figure out why: they’d never had anyone to share this with before.

Shifters mostly stuck with their own kind. In a town as small as Hawkins, that meant shifters mostly just had human friends, and politely avoided each other in the grocery store. It was part cultural norm and part instinct—something about being near other shifters made their animal side a little stronger, and animals don’t trust strangers. Especially strangers with sharp teeth. 

Mike had practically had to sit on them to get the three of them to be friends. For the longest time, just being around Lucas had made Dustin want to bolt. Hares and badgers weren’t even natural enemies, but it was enough that they weren’t friends, and that some deep part of Dustin, the part that lived right at the base of his skull, knew that Lucas could maul him with one well-placed strike.

Will hadn’t been so instinctively frightening—no one has anything to fear from a mouse. Where Dustin got jittery around the other two, Will went still and quiet. But Dustin had been as wary of that as he had been of Lucas’s on-edge sharpness. Everyone knew Will’s dad was a rat. Will had taken after his mother, but you never know with mixed shifters, and no one wants to tangle with a cornered rat.

Mike and Will had met on the first day of kindergarten and become instantly inseparable. Lucas had moved into the house next to Mike’s during spring break of first grade, and they’d hit it off almost at once. Mike hadn’t been able to understand why they’d both balked so hard when he tried to get them to play together at recess.

Most people would probably have given up after a few weeks. But Mike was one of the most stubborn people alive when he got an idea in his head. It didn’t get any easier when he and Dustin got close at summer camp, but Mike started second grade with an iron-hard determination that they would all be friends. Whether they liked it or not.

It took a little over a month for him to get all of them in his basement at the same time, very cautiously playing board games. It was another month before the three of them spent more than thirty seconds alone together, and even then it wasn’t voluntarily. Mike’s mom interrupted a game to insist he take a phone call from his grandma right now. Mike went with loud and lengthy protests, but he went, and then Dustin, Lucas, and Will were left staring at each other in suddenly stifling silence.

It was Will who broke it. Will had always been much braver than you’d expect a mouse to be. “If Mike was a shifter,” he said quietly, “what do you think he’d be?”

Lucas barely hesitated a moment. “A donkey.”

Will nodded pensively. Dustin snorted. “Because he’s stubborn as a mule?” he asked, at the same time as Will said, straight-faced, “Because he can be a real ass.”

Dustin and Lucas both lost it. Will grinned, and then joined in the laughter. That was how Mike found them, collapsed on the floor and giggling, drunk on the cut tension.

They weren’t magically friends after that. But for Dustin, at least, that was when it had started to feel possible.

[disconnected-dragon]

"Alright people let's set some things straight.

"My name is Miguel O'Hara. I was not bitten by a radioactive spider, and for the past ten or so years I have been Nueva York's one and only --Spider-Man. How it happened is a bit of a long story, my dad liked to throw stuff, I got a job at Alchemax, threw stuff there, blah blah blah, long story short, the head scientist, Dr "Olivia Octoavius" got hired by this huge guy in a suit to "make some Schpida-people" to sell to the US government as super-soldiers. I said I quit, Olivia said ok, but not before spiking my drink with super-cocaine. She then told me "ok Miguel, either you work for us or you go onto the streets." I told her to "suck my dingle-berries Liv" and threw myself into the Spider-Machine. Did I mention I was seventeen years old at this point I feel like I should mention that. It edited my DNA to be abt 50 percent man and 50 percent spider. So instead of Spider-Sense and sticky fingers, it gave me talons, fangs, and paralyzing venom. Hey don't give me that look, at least I'm not Man-Spider.

"A lot of the stuff that followed was standard Spider-Man stuff, got hit by a drone, got choke-slammed by Venom, disappointed my mother, tried to run a Spider-themed speakeasy which you should not do under any circumstances, so I'm just gonna tell LYLA to fast-forward to-- ehhh here. Where I choke-slammed a teenager into a moving train. Really-- not my proudest moment. I was in the wrong here, my bad Miles, I lost my temper. I'm gonna write an apology as soon as the multiverse gets back on track. Here's an e-card LYLA made in the meantime. But, look, you have to get here-- I have one morse confidential thing to say. Which involves the multiverse.

"You probably noticed in my origin story that I'm not a typical Spider-Man. I don't have the canon events. I wasn't even bitten by the spider. And you're probably saying "Miguel, you're a hypocrite, why do you enforce the rules so much on me and my annoying friends? You didn't even have a dad event!' Which, you're right, I don't. The second my dad was gone I threw a party over his dead still-warm corpse but we don't have to go into that now, I don't have daddy issues. (Shut up LYLA) The point is, I know that I'm an anomaly. That's the other reason I do this.

"There can only be one anomaly in the universe at one time. LYLA ran the calculations and they're flawless. I know. I programmed her myself. And because there can only be one anomaly without complete and utter collapse. My existence puts the multiverse in danger, and I know that. I learned that when my daughter dissolved in front of me. So I dedicated my life to keeping the multiverse on track, on time, and tightly running with no deviation. It's lonely, but it's what I have to do. It's what I have to do to make up for existing at all.

"So without me, the entire Arachno-Poly-Humanoid-Multiverse would fall into complete and utter oblivion. There's only one anomaly in this web. And you're looking at him."

____________

a/n: you ever get really pissed off abt some mad miguel takes on twitter so you write a speculative thing abt his backtsory in btsv? lmao couldnt be me.

do note i havent read his comics, only the wikipedia page for his comics, and i edited out some of that information that didn't seem to fit with his astv character. so please don't think im truying to make miguel look better or anything i just *think* this is the direction they'll go with for his backstory if they decide to do it. I *think*. don't hold me to it.

Also, cross posted to AO3 if anyone wants to look:

[belle-of-a-time]

I’m picking up my brother from a thing and he walked out to my car handed me a bag of salami and cheese and said “here take this I’m keeping it, it’s a bag of meat” and then walked back inside. Little brothers are great

Then as we were coming through the door he said “there was something folded in my pocket and I thought it was a business card but it was actually a bag of seeds” and when questioned said “wildflower mix” and tossed them on the table before going to play apex online with our cousins.

[hcadlesshuntcr]

THE JOURNEY TO MOONRISE - Meeting the Harpers + Jaheria

[smalltall]

A lot of people say they found Hobie annoying at first when he was establishing hs punk credentials ("I don't believe in teams or consistency/I'll do it but not because you asked me to/it's a metaphor for capitalism" etc.), but what they need to realize is that he's doing a bit. All Spider-people (except Miguel) become comedians when they're wearing the mask. Hobie happens to have a very dry sense of humor; so while he's masked up his jokes are self-aware exaggerations of 'the punk persona'. Not that he doesn't sincerely hold those beliefs (it's made clear he does when he helps sabotage Spider HQ's unethical trans-dimension surveillance network), just that "I don't believe in comedy! Just kidding!" is what you say when you know how most people perceive 'punks' and enjoy fucking with them a little.

[irndad]

won't you be my sunshine-a.h.

a/n: runner!hotch x sunshine!reader !! sooooo fluffy, first hotch fic of mine so be gentle with me! lots of pining and happy end <3 happy to continue with these two in an au!

Aaron Hotchner is not a particularly emotive man. 

This is a skill he has honed, a cherished quality that was not born of luck or of natural ability, but a skill that he has honed down to a fine tip point. He needs to be, in this job. It’s cost him things, of course, but for the most part, Aaron is happy with his choices. He takes a firm line with people he works with, and does not always let up in his personal life.

The only time this sometimes causes a hitch, is in his romantic life.

Which isn’t to say that he has one. 

There is a woman who reads in the park every morning. Aaron affectionately thinks of this bench as her bench, as it is marked by wisterias and hyacinths on either end of it. It’s something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk. 

It’s fun. He doesn’t have a lot of space for fun. He’d collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. He’d crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadn’t even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as she’s hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. It’s not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.

That’s how it started, anyway. She doesn’t run, so each break is punctuated by her company. He’s actually not sure if they’re flirting. He’s not very good at that- the last time he has to he was 17 and so full of unearned confidence, he lucked into a partnership. 

Now, he’s a bit older and a lot more scarred. She’s younger than him, not by much. She laughs with her whole chest at his dry, glib humor- and this is something Aaron had forgotten. The joy of a beautiful, wonderful woman’s company beside you. 

He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought he’d do again, really. That’s not to say that this is romance. Their romance is almost entirely hypothetical. He thinks of her at work, which is a monumental development in and of itself. 

“So, how was the paperwork? I know you’ve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. It’s so kind of you to do it.” She asks him on a beautiful August morning. 

He fights off a blush that she remembers what he’s done for JJ. He’s not big on mentioning his own good deeds. Aaron believes that this would cancel it out. Still, her praise is a warm balm to the exhaustion that plagues him. It’s hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him that’s hard to love, she’d still paint him with such a light and warm glance. She’s bright enough, he’s tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks. 

“It was…alright. My team is excellent. I’m lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldn’t ask for more.”

She giggles a little at this, and there’s that roar of affection. 

He feels a sense of ease around her, one that is suspicious for him. He tries not to romanticize, but this connection is hard not to. She’s beautiful- this is obvious to anyone who meets her, a simple truth of her. But Aaron is trained to notice things little factors that show the truth of someone. 

He likes to watch her- it’s a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. It’s a little addicting, the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like all of the things he knows to be true of himself- his relative failures, the closed-off nature of his demeanor- are things that not only can be overlooked, but don’t seem to be in her line of sight at all. It’s an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation. 

He tries not to notice that she is gorgeous. Aaron has been around beautiful women, of course- this is not something that should surprise him. But there’s something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if it’s possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, he’s a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically. 

It feels odd to even think of this happening. She’s just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what it’s like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. It’s embarrassing how much he likes the feeling of it- soft curves against hard muscle and scarred skin. She always smells wonderful, and he wonders how nice it would be to have more of this. 

“I like your new shirt, by the way.” She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- she’s wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting. 

“I like the lip color,” he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesn’t stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. He’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride. 

“Thank you,” she says, voice softer and flattered, and isn’t that a pretty sound? He’d love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like she’s as beautiful as she is, “I thought you might like it.”

It’s her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. That’s just about the only thing it can mean, and he is struck with a particularly sensory fantasy of what it would be like to slot his mouth against hers- he gets the feeling it might be worth it even if he gets the color on his mouth. 

He’s a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips. 

“Would you want to get dinner with me?” He hears himself say it before he’s processed it, and then it’s out into the world. His heart is hammering and he’s blaming on the run, when god, it’s absolutely about how breathtaking she looks, the sunlight reflecting off her hair like a halo. When she beams back at him, she looks particularly angelic. 

It’s then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

(Months later, when she is sitting on his kitchen counter and he is standing between her legs, gazing down at her with unabated fondness because he is entitled to that, he reflects on this moment and thinks god, how lucky am I, that I ran past that bench?) 

[theprettyarachnid]

logan going into heat would include

a/n: i’m not proud of what i’m doing but someone had to do it (also first time writing for him so be nice)

warnings/themes: nsfw, unestablished relationship, implied age gap

horny!logan who becomes 10x more brooding and aggressive, especially towards people who piss him off

horny!logan who can’t help but think of the irredeemable things he wants to do to you every time he looks at you

horny!logan who tries his hardest to stay away from you but for whatever reason you always happen to find yourself right next to him

horny!logan who goes into the woods to jack off because the walls in his room aren’t thick enough to block out the animalistic sounds that come out of his mouth

horny!logan who cums to the thought of your mouth wrapped around his dick

horny!logan who finds your smell intoxicating and has to readjust his pants before you notice the growing boner

horny!logan who thinks about taking you to a private place just to bend you down and fuck you senseless

horny!logan who starts noticing your fast glances

horny!logan who flirts and makes you smile with his dry sense of humor

horny!logan who has to hold himself back when you laugh and place a hand on his muscular arm

horny!logan who dreams about the noises you possibly make when you’re getting eaten out and fucked

horny!logan who shares his whiskey with you when it’s late and you’re alone with each other

horny!logan who stops you from kissing him because you’re drunk even though all he wants is to kiss you

horny!logan who tries to make you feel less embarrassed by telling you that you don’t want to kiss an ‘old man’ like him

horny!logan who knows that it was right but still hates that he stopped you

horny!logan who needs to jack off that night to let off some steam

horny!logan who makes you talk to him after ignoring him the whole morning

horny!logan who has to listen to your apology

horny!logan who tells you to shut up when you begin to ramble and chuckles at the look you give him

horny!logan who painfully explains that he was actually flattered and would’ve kissed you back if you weren’t drunk

horny!logan who tries to back track when you don’t respond only for you to kiss him on the cheek

horny!logan who frowns while you smile at him

horny!logan who grabs your hand and leads you to his room so he can fuck you until you’re begging for him to stop

[pucksandpower]

Rained Out

Toto Wolff x pregnant!Reader

Summary: a series of unfortunate events pushes Toto’s protective side to the surface

Based on this request

The rain drums steadily against the pavement, creating a shimmering curtain that obscures the bustling Canadian Grand Prix paddock from view. You stand just outside the entrance, one hand resting protectively on your swollen belly, the other clutching your useless paddock pass. The security guard eyes you sympathetically but remains firm.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t let you in if your pass isn’t scanning,” he says, his voice barely audible over the downpour.

You bite your lip, frustration and discomfort warring within you. “Please, I’m Toto Wolff’s wife. I’m sure this is just a technical glitch. If you could just call him-”

The guard shakes his head. “I’ve already radioed in. Mr. Wolff is in a meeting and can’t be disturbed. I’m truly sorry, but rules are rules. You’ll have to wait until we can verify your identity.”

A shiver runs through you as the wind picks up, sending icy droplets cascading down your neck. Your thin jacket, hastily thrown on before leaving the hotel, offers little protection against the elements. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to shield your unborn child from the chill.

Time crawls by at an agonizing pace. Other team members and officials hurry past, sparing curious glances at the very pregnant woman standing forlornly in the rain. You try Toto’s phone again, willing it to ring.

Finally, after what feels like hours but is likely only thirty minutes, a familiar voice cuts through the monotonous patter of rain.

“Schatz! Oh mein Gott, what are you doing out here?”

Toto appears, his tall frame moving with surprising speed. His eyes are wide with concern as he takes in your bedraggled state.

“The pass ... it wouldn’t scan,” you manage through chattering teeth. “They couldn’t reach you.”

Toto’s face darkens as he turns to the security guard. “How could you leave my pregnant wife standing in this weather? Do you have any idea-”

You place a gentle hand on his arm. “Toto, don’t. He was just doing his job.”

The anger in Toto’s eyes softens as he looks at you, replaced by guilt and worry. He shrugs off his team jacket and wraps it around your shoulders, ushering you quickly through the now-open gate.

“Come, let’s get you inside and dry,” he murmurs, his arm protectively around your waist.

As you enter the relative warmth of the Mercedes garage, the bustle of pre-race preparations momentarily halts. All eyes turn to you and Toto, taking in your drenched appearance.

“Somebody get some towels!” Toto barks, his accent thickening with stress. “And find some dry clothes!”

You lean into him, grateful for his solid presence. “I’m okay, really,” you assure him, though your voice wavers slightly. “Just a bit damp.”

Toto’s eyebrows shoot up. “A bit damp? Liebling, you look like you’ve been swimming in your clothes.”

Despite your discomfort, you can’t help but laugh. “Well, I always did want to try synchronized swimming. Though I imagined a pool, not a parking lot.”

Toto’s lips twitch, a reluctant smile breaking through his worry. “Your sense of humor remains intact, I see.”

A team member approaches with a stack of fluffy towels and what appears to be team-issued sweats. Toto takes them with a nod of thanks.

“Can you manage changing by yourself?” He asks quietly. “Or do you need help?”

You consider for a moment. While you’d normally insist on independence, your sodden clothes are clinging uncomfortably, and your fingers feel numb from the cold.

“I ... might need a hand,” you admit sheepishly.

Toto nods, guiding you towards a more private corner of the garage. He helps you peel off the wet layers, his touch gentle and reverent as it skims over your rounded belly.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs as he helps you into the dry clothes. “I should have made sure your pass was working properly. I should have answered my phone.”

You cup his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Hey, none of that. It was just a silly mix-up. No harm done.”

Toto’s brow furrows. “No harm? You were standing in the freezing rain for God knows how long! You could get sick, or the baby-”

“The baby is fine,” you interrupt, placing his large hand on your stomach. As if on cue, there’s a strong kick against his palm. “See? Still doing somersaults in there.”

Some of the tension leaves Toto’s shoulders, but concern still lingers in his eyes. “Still, I want Dr. Müller to check you over, just to be safe.”

You nod, knowing arguing would be pointless. “Alright, if it will make you feel better. But first ...” You glance meaningfully at the bustling garage around you. “Don’t you have a race to prepare for?”

Toto hesitates, clearly torn between his professional duties and his desire to fuss over you. You give him a gentle push.

“Go on. I promise I’ll sit quietly and drink something warm until the doctor arrives.”

He searches your face for a moment, then nods. “Alright. But you call me immediately if you feel even slightly unwell, verstanden?”

“Verstanden,” you echo with a smile. “Now go be the big, scary team principal everyone expects.”

Toto chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I love you, you know that?”

“I had an inkling,” you tease. “Now scoot!”

As Toto reluctantly returns to his duties, you settle into a chair, gratefully accepting a steaming mug of tea from a hovering team member. The garage slowly returns to its normal frenetic pace, though you notice several concerned glances thrown your way.

You’re halfway through your tea when a familiar face appears at your side. Lewis crouches down, his expression a mix of worry and amusement.

“I hear you tried to stage your own wet race out there,” he says with a grin.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “What can I say? I was feeling left out of all the excitement.”

Lewis chuckles, then his face grows more serious. “You alright though? For real?”

You nod, touched by his concern. “I’m fine, truly. Just a bit waterlogged. Though I think Toto might spontaneously combust from worry.”

As if summoned by his name, Toto appears behind Lewis. “Yes, Dr. Müller, thank you for coming on such short notice. She’s right here.”

You shoot Lewis an exasperated look that clearly says ‘see what I mean?’ He responds with a sympathetic pat on your shoulder before rising.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he says. “Try not to give the old man a heart attack before the race, yeah?”

Toto scowls playfully at Lewis’ retreating back. “I heard that!”

As Dr. Müller begins her examination, Toto hovers anxiously nearby, his eyes darting between you and the various race preparations happening around the garage.

“Toto,” you call softly. “I can practically hear you thinking from here. What’s wrong?”

He runs a hand through his hair, a telltale sign of stress. “I just ... I can’t stop thinking about you standing out there in the rain. What if something had happened? What if-”

“But nothing did happen,” you interrupt gently. “I’m fine, the baby’s fine. It was just a bit of rain.”

Toto shakes his head. “It’s not just that. I should have been there. I should have made sure you were taken care of. What kind of husband, what kind of father am I going to be if I can’t even-”

“Stop right there,” you say firmly. “You are going to be an amazing father, Toto Wolff. You already are. Do you know how I know?”

He looks at you questioningly.

“Because you care this much,” you explain. “Because even in the middle of one of the biggest race weekends of the year, your first thought is for me and our baby. That’s what matters, not some silly mishap with a security pass.”

Toto’s eyes soften, and he moves to kneel beside you, taking your hand in his. “How did I get so lucky?” He murmurs.

You smile, squeezing his hand. “I ask myself the same thing every day.”

Dr. Müller clears her throat, reminding you both of her presence. “Well, I’m happy to report that both mother and baby are perfectly healthy. No signs of distress or illness from the exposure to the cold.”

The relief on Toto’s face is palpable. “Thank you, Doctor. That’s wonderful news.”

As Dr. Müller packs up her equipment, you turn to Toto with a mischievous glint in your eye. “So, now that we’ve established that I’m not about to melt from a little rain, what do you say we focus on winning this race?”

Toto laughs, the remaining tension finally leaving his body. “Always keeping me on track, aren’t you?”

“Someone has to,” you tease. “Now, go lead your team to victory. Your very pregnant, very proud wife will be cheering you on from right here.”

Toto leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he murmurs. “Both of you.”

As he straightens up, resuming his role as the formidable Mercedes team principal, you can’t help but smile. Come rain or shine, paddock pass or no paddock pass, you know that you and Toto can weather any storm together.

[assiraphales]

zoro is so funny in the anime he’s like sure I’ll follow this crazy kid and be the first mate for his non existent pirate crew on his dinghy. would get lost in his own house if he had one. jeers his opponents with his mouth full (his sword. v impolite). has a dry sense of humor but is somehow compatible w luffy’s (telling the kids that they’re cannibals and ate usopp). was actively bleeding out and said “I just need a nap” and passed out in the street. yells about everything. loves his crew but threatens to kill them daily

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

Nanami and his camera...

Note: not smut but suggestive... very domestic nanami

Masterlist Discord

Nanami never saw the point in the whole “sending nudes” thing. He found it cliché and stupid, a meaningless exchange that seemed to reduce romantic relationships to superficial transactions. He believed that there was so much more to a relationship than just sending naked photos to each other, Nanami valued the tangible, authentic moments that built a real bond between two people. And that was one of the reasons you were so drawn to him. 

He was respectful, kind, and hardworking–everything you could hope for in a man. Nanami embodied all the qualities of a perfect gentleman. And of course being in a committed relationship, it's natural to want to give your lover gifts. And so you did. One year into your relationship, you gift Nanami a camera. 

Saying he liked it was an understatement, he adored it. He started off with simple things, like taking pictures of the meals he cooked, photographs of the scenery in the backyard, especially when the stray cats came to sunbathe on his porch. However, out of all the various things he photographed, his favorite was undeniably you.

He had a way of capturing you in your most candid moments, revealing sides of you even you hadn’t seen before. Doesn’t matter if you were lost in thought reading a book by the window, laughing uncontrollably at a joke he made with his dry humor, or gazing at the sunset after he took you out to dinner, Nanami found beauty in your every expression, every gesture. His eyes, through the lens, saw you as some kind of goddess. 

Even at night, when you were all ready for bed and fast asleep, Nanami liked capturing you in those tranquil moments. Something about how peaceful you looked as you slept brought him a sense of serenity. The way your chest rises and falls softly as you breathe, the way your hair generously fanned out across the pillow, and the way the thin sheets dipped into the natural curves of your body. All these small details captivated him.

It took him a while for him to build his confidence to take those pictures while you were awake. He just couldn’t help it the day you wore that sheer nightdress to bed that one night. His jaw drops in awe as you slide into the sheets with him, his eyes not once flattering off your body. 

“What’s wrong Kento…” you ask, making yourself comfortable in bed as you notice the way he seems lost in thought. 

Kento clears his throat, snapping back to reality, picking his jaw back up as if he just realized he’d been staring for too long. "You look lovely," he says, his voice a little unsteady. "Is that a new dress?"

You smile at him and nod. You did in fact just purchase the dress, feeling the soft fabric against your warm skin. You had hoped it would catch his attention. And it definitely was working, noticing the soft red blush creeping up on his cheeks. 

You watch his eyes take in every detail of the dress. The intricate lace pattern running up the dress, the way the fabric hugs your figure just right, and the softness of it that he could only dream of touching. The way that man looked at you always made you feel special, as if you’re the only person in the world at that moment.

“May I take a picture of you?” He croaks out, his voice carrying a mix of admiration and shyness. 

“Of course,” you reply, a playful twinkle in your eyes that he catches. “But get my good side,” you tease him. 

He laughs, a soft genuine smile spreading across his face. He slowly picked up the camera from his nightstand. Lifting it to his face as you patiently waited for him to snap the shot. He looks through the viewfinder, admiring your beautiful face, taking in every small detail of your face that makes you, you.  His eyes continue trail down, lingering on the lacy neckline of the dress, adoring the way it gracefully hugs your shoulders and falls effortlessly along your frame. 

He finally presses the button to snap the picture. The sound of the shutter clicking sends a rush through his body. He looks down at the picture he had taken. It was breathtaking. You were stunning beyond belief in his eyes. 

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, almost to himself, as he lowers the camera back down. His eyes come back to meet yours and you could almost swear your heart skipped a beat. Slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. His hands finally resting on your body, feeling the soft fabric against it.