#i stay in my own corner of the internet and just

[rudnitskaia]

I wanted to say many thanks to those who ever interacted and keeps interacting with me about Mau.

That's such a funny unbelievable thing. I haven't planned to develop... no, I haven't planned even to CREATE this character. In April I simply wrote a light funny fic about Rocky and expanded on my family's inner joke that 'pizza is just a giant pancake'. I had some basic image, basic features of the waitress character from this fic in my head, but come on, I didn't even give her a name! And then my husband asked me: 'And what's the name of this waitress?' I said that I dunno. But the very next day it made me write a small bonus scene to this fic, simply because I imagined how Rocky in a real cat manner tries to drag that waitress' attention in order to get some more sugary pizza, and... that's how Maura's name appeared. I just thought that 'Mau' sounds like a really desperate and eager meow. That simple. The surname Venza also simply appeared in my head and I thought 'yep, sounds good'. I even had to check after if it really exists. In the meantime I got my first comment on FicBook that said, quote, '...a fic that deserves a fan comic'. I'm much better with words than with brushes, as you can see, and making a comic is an extremely hard task for me, but still that flattering comment made me ponder: if I draw Maura, how will she look like? First I drew the sketch of human Mau, but haven't showed it to anyone, and then, suddenly, the sketch of cat Mau from it, which I attempted to color and shared here on tumblr... and got so many positive feedback that I was shocked and stunned.

And look at me now? Because of you, people, I developed Maura into a strong autonomous character. I feel enormous support on this path and... that's pretty surreal for me due to what I told above. I keep asking myself how did I get this far with a thing that appears to be just a chain of accidental events that occurred from my intention to participate in the Lackadaisy fandom activities for the first time in more than 10 years? And the only truth is that your attention and acceptance brought me here. For that I'm grateful with all my heart.

So, thank you, guys. Just... thank you.

[volfoss]

its always the most interesting tezuka works that end up untranslated and i read them and go insane and have to deal w the fact that no one is going to translate them anytime soon

[phagodyke]

day 2 of no wifi.. hanging in there 😔😔😔😔

[chrisbesitos]

chris x fem¡younger reader ( like 1-2 years younger) he just babies her the whole time, and is very protective of her.

SWEET RELIEF.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀chris sturniolo × fem!reader.

warnings: fluff, nsfw, cursing, sickness, angst (a lit bit).

synopsis: Chris dates a girl who's two years younger than he. Chris is 21 and the reader is 19.

— Chris and Y/N relationship are public, but they keep private.

Chris never hide his relationship with Y/N, but they never made any hard launch in the social medias, because Chris didn't want his fans to being mean with her. Y/N is only 19, Chris knows how evil people on internet can be and he doesn't want his girlfriend to suffer with this.

But sometimes he can't stop this, but he can make her feel better with his love.

"Hey, gorgeous." Chris said, he found his girlfriend on their bed. He was out with his brothers, recording a video and Y/N stay home waiting for Chris, so they could sleep together.

"Hi, I couldn't sleep without you." She replied, Y/N looks a upset, Chris could notice. Y/N gave him a sad smile, he frow his eyebrows and sit in the corner of the bed. Chris extends his hand to Y/N, holding hers.

"What happened, baby?" He asked, Y/N low her eyes and let go Chris' hand. She rubbed her own arms, Y/N knows she couldn't hide from her boyfriend. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Why you with me?" Y/N looked at Chris, the boy frowned his eyebrows doesn't understanding why she were asking this.

While she was waiting for Chris, she spent time scrolling her 'for you' page on TikTok and saw some comments about her. People were saying she wasn't right for Chris, because he needs to stay with a woman of his age, calling her childish and annoying. Then, she couldn't stop thinking about this, maybe Chris really needs someone who's not two years younger.

"Why are you asking this, baby?" Chris asked, he sat by her side and pulled her to his lap. He let kisses all over her face, making her giggle because of his beard. "I'm with you, because I love you so much."

"And I love you too, but–" Chris cuts her off.

"Why are you asking this? You didn't answer me." Chris hugged her shoulders, Y/N lay her head on the crook of Chris' neck. She started to draw invisible circles on Chris' chest with her finger. "Y/N."

"I saw comments on TikTok saying that you should date a woman of your age." Y/N said sadly, Chris hugged her harder and kissed her forehead. "They said I'm childish and annoying and–"

"I don't want to hear these lies about you." Chris held Y/N's chin to make her look at him. "None of these people knows you as much as me and I don't fucking care about what they think about our relationship. You're my girlfriend, I want you and only you." He kissed her lips.

"I love you so much, you know this, right?" She smiled, Chris nods his head smiling too. "I just. . . I don't want to care about it, but sometimes I can't help it."

"I know, It's hard, baby, but these people are trolls who want to make you feel bad for being you." Chris pulled her to his chest, Y/N embrace his waist, laying her head on his chest. "Don't worry about it, I'm gonna make sure they'll know I'm not gonna tolerate these comments."

And he did. After Y/N fall asleep on Chris lap, he posted a note on his Instagram story. He wrote he would not tolerate mean comments about his girlfriend, because it's anyone business who he dates. He protects his girlfriend all coast, you can say he babies her all the time and protects from everything, but he didn't care and so Y/N.

— Y/N's mad at Chris, because he wants to protect her from everything.

"Stop babying me all the time!" Y/N said angry. She was getting ready to hang out with her friends, friends who Chris doesn't like, because he thinks they are a bad influence to Y/N.

"Well, you didn't seem to care until now." Chris rolled his eyes, he sat on his bed and crossed his arms on his chest. He was trying to stop Y/N from going to a party with them, but she was being stubborn. "Come on, baby."

"No! I want to go out tonight, they're my friends, Chris." She groans, hitting the sink with her hands. Even though she didn't care when Chris babies her, now he's acting like she's a kid. "It's just a party, Chris."

"Oh, these friends? You mean the guy who got arrested? You told me, don't remember?"

"Jeez, Chris. It was a misunderstanding." She got out of the bathroom. Y/N was wearing a tiny dress, make up and hair ready, Chris thinks she looked gorgeous, but he didn't trust in other guys. Chris got up and held Y/N's shoulders.

"You want to go out? We can go, but I don't trust these people."

"Chris, why don't you trust me? I can take care of myself, damn."

"Did I say that I do not trust you?" Y/N rolled her eyes. "Fine, I gave up. Go hang out with them, but don't call me when you get in trouble because of them."

Y/N groans angry, she got her purse and phone and stormed out of the room. Chris followed her until the door, he watched her walk to her friend car, he knows she will end up calling him, but if she wants to know by her own, he will let her do.

"Oh, how would you get into a party? You're not twenty-one yet, they would not let you in." He said sassy.

"Fuck you, Chris!"

He was right, he always is. Chris waits for Y/N call, because he knew she would call at some point. It was almost nine in when Y/N call, only an hour after she leaves. Chris answered quickly, even though he was mad with her, he still worried.

"I told you, didn't I?" Chris said.

"They left me here." She cried. "They got in the club without me after the security said I couldn't get in, they just said sorry and left me."

"I tried to warn you, Y/N. I told you they wouldn't let you in." Chris sighed, he got off the couch and catch the car keys. "Send me your location, I'll get you."

"I'm sorry, Chris." She sobs.

"I know, baby. Now, send me your location, okay? I'm gonna bring you home."

Y/N send Chris her location and he drive until her. She was sitting on the highway with tears on her face, Chris parked and opened the window, Y/N get in the car in silence. She sniffed, Y/N cleaned her tears and the mascara of her face, Chris tugged his hoodie off and gave to his girlfriend.

"Now you understand why I didn't want you to go out with them? They left like you were nothing."

"I know." She whispered, putting on his hoodie. "I'm sorry, I should've listened to you."

"Baby, when I do these things it's not because I don't trust you, it's because I don't trust them." Chris said, he started to drive back home. "I'm sorry if you don't like when I baby you, but it's because I love you."

"It's not this, I just feel like you were treating me like I'm a kid."

"I'm sorry, you know I didn't mean." He stopped at the red lights, Chris rubbed Y/N's tight. She held his hand and kissed the back. "I'm gonna try to not baby you too much."

"No, I like when you baby me." She crossed her arms on her chest, Chris giggled. "Just don't treat me like I'm a kid."

"I will not, not anymore." Chris smiled and gave a peck on her lips. "In 'n Out?"

"Please, I'm starving!"

— "You don't have to carry me everywhere, Chris!"

Chris loves to carry Y/N everywhere. They arrived home? Chris has to carry his girlfriend inside. Arrived in a hotel in the middle of the night during the tour? Chris carried Y/N until their room while she sleep. Bathroom in the middle of the night? Here he goes, carrying his girl to the bathroom and waiting for her, so he could carry her back to bed.

Y/N loves too, but she can walk, but Chris insists in carry her.

"No, no, no." Chris stopped Y/N, they were watching a movie in the living room. "Where are you going?"

"I didn't sleep too much last night, gonna have a nap."

"Then, let's have a nap." Chris turns off the TV, he gets up the couch and holds his girlfriend in a bridal style.

"You don't have to carry me everywhere, Chris!" Y/N giggled, holding Chris' neck. He gave her a kiss on the cheek, rubbing her nose there.

"But I can, so why not?"

Chris carried Y/N to their room, he lay her in the bed and covered with the blanket. Chris turns the lights off and lays by her side, Y/N hugged Chris' neck with her arm and embrace his waist with her leg.

"Just lay on me." He chuckled. Y/N yawn and climb Chris' body, he holds her and let her sleep on he.

— If he babies Y/N all the time, when she got sick it's even worse.

"100.4° F (38° C), damn." Chris said looking at the thermometer visor. Y/N was acting weird the whole day, Chris thought she was getting sick, but she insisted she were okay.

Until now. They got home after the day shopping, Y/N passed out in the bed for two hours until Chris comes to check on her. He knows she was sick, but for some stupid reason she was acting like not.

"It's not that bad." She complained.

"Oh, yeah. A higher fever is not that bad, Y/N." He said being sarcastic, she sighed. Chris helped her to sit, he tugged her hair from her face. "Open your mouth." Chris said holding a pill.

"I don't need this." She frowned her nose, but the look Chris gave to her made her open her mouth. Chris put the pill on her tongue and gave her water to swallow. "Thanks, baby."

"Rest and I'll make you a soup, okay?" He kissed her forehead.

"You don't know how to cook." She giggled laying down.

"I'll figure it out."

She was right, Chris doesn't know how to cook, so he had to ask Nick to do it. After the soup is ready, Chris put in a bowl to Y/N and goes to his room. She wasn't sleeping anymore, Y/N was watching TV with her body all covered by the blankets. Chris smiled at her while he closed the door.

"You cold?"

"A bit, probably because of the fever, but I'll feel better if you lay here with me."

"I bring you soup." He put the bowl in the nightstand and sat in the bed, Y/N sat too with Chris help.

"Who made it?" She jokes. Chris rolled his eyes getting the bowl back, Y/N tried to hold, but Chris didn't let her. "Why? You gonna feed me?"

"Of course I will." Chris said and Y/N didn't complain. The boy gave her a few spoons of the soup until she felt filled.

She fell asleep again on Chris' shoulder, feeling too tired to stay awake. Chris held her the hold night and the whole day after until she felt better.

— Always gentle with her while they are having sex.

"Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" He said looking at his girlfriend laying down in bed, he was on top of her, ready to be inside of her. Y/N nodded. "Words, baby. I need words."

"Yes, I'll use our safe word." Y/N said breathing hard, she was needing Chris so hard. "Please, Chris. I need you."

"I'll be gentle with you."

"You always are."

Then, Y/N was moaning Chris' name loudly while he push his cook in Y/N's pussy. His slow movements, catching every reaction of his girlfriend. He keeps kissing her face and saying lovely words to her. Chris let her come as soon as she needed, because he didn't want his girlfriend to suffer. Her loud moan was music to his ears, he didn't take too much to come inside her.

— Aftercare always, everything to his girlfriend.

"Sure you okay? Did I take it too rough with you?" Chris asked, rubbing her tights with his nose, his beard tickling her sensitive skin.

"You're always gentle with me, baby." She smiled lazily, Chris nodded. He tugged his T-shirt from the floor and used it to clean her tights, giving pecks in her skin. She yawn.

"I'm gonna run us a bath, so we can sleep, okay?" He kissed her lips and then the forehead, she nodded.

Chris filled the bathtub and put all of Y/N bath products, he carried her until the bathroom and get in the water with her. Chris washed her hair and her body, giving kisses on her pretty skin, giving all the pleasure that she deserves.

Then, he carried Y/N back to the bed, Chris lay lazy by her side. She smiled at him, slowly closing her eyes. Chris held her waist and laid his head on her tits, slowly getting asleep too.

hope you like it <3

Tags: @lizzymacdonald06 @deliciousluminaryanchor @lushjunkie @sweetreliever @watercolorskyy

join my taglist!

[dpspcehntr]

Hello first timer here may I humbly request for a hcs pls for the LADS boys wherein they use a remote vibrator on mc

Hello! Welcome to my little corner of the LADS internet, I hope you'll enjoy your stay! I have been trying to find a way to slip this into a fic for AGES so I am PUMPED to answer this! Just quick thoughts this time, just in case I do decide to write this one day. Thank you anon for this lovely ask!

Warnings: Vibrators, public play, exhibition kink, vouyerism, masturbation (m receiving)

Zayne

Will have surgeon like precision with edging you

Used to spice things up during the longer periods between seeing each other

Jerks it to the pictures of your wet spot you send him for months after

Won’t admit it but he does NOT have enough self control to handle it (will almost blow a load at the mere mention of it)

Xavier

Uses it purely to hear you cum through the floors in his apartment

Uses sparingly (he’d rather just fuck you with the vibrator in hand)

Asked you to use it on him once and he came so many times

The thing now lives in his own box of toys

Rafayel

Ruthless and mean about it

Will make you cum almost immediately and edge you for the rest of the time

Cranks it up while you’re mid sentence with someone

Forgets how much it turns him on and now you’re both horny in the function

Sylus

Used on very special occasions

On a constant low speed the whole time to keep you on edge

Loves to watch your expression change slowly over the night

Used strictly as foreplay for the night ahead

[hopeymchope]

No hardcore fandom has ever died so quickly and so completely as Veronica Mars. This is the story of its murder.

They should study Veronica Mars in Hollywood. I'm serious. It's an incredible story of how to go from "loud, passionate fanbase with its own fandom name that campaigns and advocates constantly for it" to "absolutely zero fucking interest" damn near OVERNIGHT with just ONE epically terri-bad decision.

If you weren't there, you don't understand: From 2007 to 2014, the fandom — the "Marshmallows," as they called themselves — were everywhere in the Internet's geek spaces, my friends. They routinely beat the drum about the series' three seasons and its excellence, lamented its cancellation, pushed others to give the show a try, and always - ALWAYS - proudly and loudly called for the series to be revived.

FULL DISCLOSURE/CONFESSION: I've not even watched that much Veronica Mars, frankly... ? Yeah, I'm sorry! it does seem pretty good from like the four-or-five hours I've experienced firsthand. I just never took the time to sit down with it. Regardless, I find fandoms and their dynamics — both how they operate internally and how they display to others externally — deeply fascinating. And I honestly find them easier to study from the outside than the inside. Like, if I'm IN a fandom, I'm more likely to stay in my corner and ignore places that seem negative. But being on the outside lets me just... absorb what's out there, looking into every forum without judgment. It's like studying pop-culture sociology or something? And it helps that I'm very close to some serious(-ly burnt) Marshmallows. It makes it so much easier to find and absorb the gamut of the fandom.

Besides: There is NO fandom story I've ever seen that's anything like what happened to Veronica Mars and the Marshmallows.

(Time to insert a brief explainer for the uninitiated: Veronica Mars was a TV series that aired from 2004-2007 on the now-deceased UPN network wherein Kristen Bell played the titular character, a high school girl whose single dad was a private detective in the fictional community of Neptune, California. She grew up working "unofficially" as his assistant, which meant that she herself was effectively a teenage private detective.

The three core elements of the series were: 1) Veronica investigating each week's big mystery with plenty of quips and snark, 2) Watching Veronica's various relationships develop and shift, with most of the focus given to a) her relationship to her father and b) Her romantic pursuits (which began as the Veronica/Duncan/Logan triangle before eventually becoming focused on the slow-burn, off-on Veronica/Logan love story), and 3) The gradual development of that season's "mytharc" — the overarching BIG MYSTERY that doesn't get resolved or wrapped until the season finale. So it went over the course of two seasons that took place in high school and the third, shorter season that was at the start of Veronica's collegiate career.)

Just how big and how passionate were the Marshmallows? WELL! When series creator Rob Thomas (not the Matchbox 20 guy) and star Kristen Bell announced the Kickstarter campaign for the Veronica Mars movie in March 2013, it achieved its heretofore-unprecedented goal of TWO MILLION GODDAMN DOLLARS within less than 12 hours. At that time, it was the biggest Kickstarter goal to ever succeed — and certainly the fastest to reach that kind of height. Fans fell OVER themselves to pay out for it. Hell, my own significant other was DEEP in the tank for VM at the time and invested enough to get multiple t-shirts as backer rewards as well as a disk copy of the movie when it eventually came home.

And AFTER the movie hit in 2014? It was thankfully beloved and embraced! The once-teenage characters were adults who were actually out living on their own and working for a living, but the fandom had grown up with them, so it wasn't like they were begging for them to stay young students. They embraced Adult Veronica and her new adventure. The fandom rejoiced loudly and continued to be all over the geek side of the Internet... where they, of course, still wanted more. Sure, there were new novels in the aftermath (which were written by the creator of the series), but most of the Marshmallows were calling for more movies or a streaming revival.

And then, at long last... season four was actually announced. And there was much (premature) rejoicing yet again.

Yes, Veronica Mars returned for a fourth season on Hulu in 2019. It was just eight episodes, and it was heavily centered on one season-long mystery instead of sprinkling that amongst a bunch of smaller ones, but it would still feature the same ol' Veronica. They promised a new, more "adult" mystery/investigation plus a strong focus on Veronica and Logan's love story.

New Hulu purchased the rights to the first three seasons and hyped up its presence on the platform while marketing the return for the new run. The marketing team played up the most popular quips from the show's history plus put out TONS of stuff centered on the Logan/Veronica ship to pump up the fans.

The season was dropped all at once using the classic Netflix "binge" model in July 2019. And then... afterwards?

There was a brief explosion of LOUD RAGE from the Marshmallows at what series creator Rob Thomas had to done to burn and spite the fandom and ruin his own goodwill.

SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4: See, at the end of the movie, Veronica and Logan finally entered into a long-term relationship. In season four, they've been dating for years, and Logan proposes marriage. But of course there has to be drama/obstacles: In this case, Veronica isn't sure she's ready to marry... or capable of being in a marriage. Ah, but of course she eventually realizes how much Logan means to her. The two are married, and, in the season finale... Logan is killed by a car bomb in the penultimate scene. The final scene is a flashfoward to a year later, where Veronica leaves Neptune alone.

For most fandoms, that'd be a memorable point of pain. A big ol' speed bump that ultimately throws some people off the bus, leaving only the die-hards. But the fact that fans had been invested in this relationship for literally 15 years and that Hulu (and creator Rob Thomas) had heavily marketed the new season as being a big romantic event for the ship... it was too much. Unlike the aftermath of the Star Wars sequels, there was no lingering group of die-hard fans who were open to whatever was next — at least no significant one. I did some Googling and could only find TWO people who still wanted another season.

Funnily enough? Critics LOVED this. Hell, Vanity Fair infamously penned an editorial about how Veronica Mars had "finally grown up" with this finale. I suppose all the other murders and deaths and drug overdoses and r*pe weren't "mature" enough before now for... some... reason. (The same editorial also featured the author openly hating on Veronica ever being in a relationship because it causes "arrested development" and declaring that the movie -- which was acclaimed by both critics AND fans alike, I remind you -- was a lame dud. So. The writer must be a reeeaaaal fun person.)

But a series doesn't live based on critical acclaim, as it turns out. The fandom was murdered overnight. "Marshmallows" stopped appearing in geek spaces online entirely. No one expressed interest in seeing the next season or the next movie. The constant flow of fan AMVs on YouTube and fanfics on AO3 dried up to nothing or damn nearly so.

Since 2019 ? Nothing. Chirping crickets. An intensely dedicated fandom of 12 years was just... vaporized.

I've never seen anything like it before OR since.

That's why it's so fucking fascinating.

So what went wrong?

Creator Rob Thomas was adamant about two things: ONE, the series was intended to be a noir show, which meant there couldn't be any happiness for its protagonist. And TWO, the death of Logan was necessary to evolve and grow the series.

Thomas thought that having Veronica in a relationship would be holding her back, and that a marriage would absolutely kill the series and leave her stagnant. It never even occurred to him that marriage isn't the end of a character's life and growth. It never occurred to him that plenty of drama can be had AFTER someone is married, or that development/growth could be that the characters mature enough to be capable of maintaining a committed relationship. Thomas' view of his own universe was so myopic that he couldn't conceive of any possible way that Veronica could still be a private detective involved in life-threatening investigations AND be married at the same time. Futhermore, he felt that fans just wanted Veronica to become a pregnant housewife, which is about as far from what Marshmallows were after as you can get without straight-up killing Veronica and/or Logan. He managed to do the only thing wronger than what he wrongly thought was their insistence.

On top of the above, Rob Thomas only viewed "noir" as a vehicle for total fatalism... despite the fact that many of the most famous noir stories are cynical and full of moral ambiguity, but they still feature a positive outcome. The Big Sleep still has the protagonist get the girl. The Set-Up arguably ends with the happiest possible ending in spite of the beating the hero receives.

Perhaps most importantly? Despite Thomas own insistence that Veronica Mars was always "noir," the majority of both TV critics and fans did not think that designation ever truly applied. I suspect that's the reason why Thomas decided to go as dark and fatalistic as possible: He wanted to be noir, and he was being told that he wasn't. So he went so far into noir that he killed his own most popular property.

He was adamant that it was the only way for the series to grow. But as it turns out, it was instead the only way for the series to permanently end. Without that season four finale, a passionate group of fans would still be begging for more. With it? It's over. Nobody fucking cares now.

That's kind of amazing.

[theonottsbxtch]

can you do a bonus part to your franco x piastri!reader series, where the rest of the grid reacts to their relationship

THE OTHER GUY BONUS PART | FC43

an: i really enjoyed giving you guys this bonus part, they're so cute i love them so much

fc: random brunettes on pintrest

twitter

interview with yn piastri

The bright lights of the paddock press conference feel warmer than usual, or maybe it’s just the tension in the air. You’re sitting in front of a lady who pulled you aside for a quick interview, her eyes sharp, knowing that every word, every glance, will be dissected later. The end of the Formula 1 season always brings its own frenzy, but this time, all the focus is on you. You could feel the attention, the hum of anticipation in the air.

The interviewer leans forward, a grin on her face as she adjusted her microphone. You knew what was coming. After weeks of speculation, cryptic posts, and a whirlwind of gossip, it was finally out. She was most definitely about to ask the question that has been burning on everyone’s mind.

“What a way to end the season, yn,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “That was quite a statement you made.” There was a pause, just long enough for the her to try and get you to say something. “Franco Colapinto. What a bold choice.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your legs slowly, letting the moment linger. You watched as she waited for your response, hanging on your every word. You smirked, leaning into the mic just a little.

“What can I say?” you shrugged nonchalantly, though you knew exactly what you were doing. “I pitied the guy.”

You could see the corners of her mouth twitch, trying to hold back a laugh. She wanted more, they always did.

“Is that all?” the interviewer presses, her tone playful but probing, looking for cracks.

You didn't flinch, not even a bit. You’d played this game long enough, and you knew how to stay on top. Your lips curved into a smirk, your eyes narrowing slightly in mischief.

“Yup,” you said, keeping your voice light, almost bored. “This is my charity work for the year.”

The interviewer burst out into laughter. You let the words hang in the air, knowing full well they would be all over the headlines tomorrow. But before the interviewer could push further, you felt a warm presence behind you, familiar hands sliding around your waist.

You stiffened for just a second, caught off guard—not by the touch itself, but by the timing of it. You knew it was him. Franco pulled you closer, his chest pressed against your back, his scent—clean and comforting—filling your senses. You could hear the faintest murmur of his breath against your ear before he planted a soft kiss on your cheek, completely unbothered by the cameras flashing all around. His embrace was steady, like he’d done this a thousand times before.

The room fell into an almost stunned silence, as the interviewer watched the two of you, waiting for the next bite of drama. But there was nothing left for them to feed on.

The interviewer’s eyes widened slightly, clearly trying to decide whether to ask more or just let this moment speak for itself. She cleared her throat, a little flustered by the sudden turn.

“Well, I think that’s a perfect note to end on,” she said with a nervous chuckle, glancing between you and Franco. “Thank you, yn, Franco. I’m sure we’ll all be talking about this for a while.”

lando norris twitch stream

williamsracing

liked by ynpiastri, francolapinto, alex_albon and 984,247 others

a surprise visit from our favourite internet sensation

*tap to load more comments*

francolpainto: muyyy lindaaa

userone: i'm telling my kids they were romeo and juliet

usertwo: best wag ever

lilymhe: how he pulled her will always remain a mystery

oscarpiastri: @/ynpiastri i'm telling mum you're a traitor

f1 posted a new video

the end.

taglist: @iimplicitt @isaadore @iamred-iamyellow @justheretoreadthxxs @obxstiles @how-what-why-huh @raizelchrysanderoctavius @sainzzreputaticn @xxx-betty @dukeofjjune @dejavuontrack @littlegrapejuice @mxdi0 @st4rgirl-ellie @dullypully @cinderellawithashoe

[kiryoutann]

An idea where Simon is a guy who posts tutorials on YouTube in his spare time outside of deployment. It was Johnny’s idea, originally—gossiping about how “th’ internet’s made increasing ‘money easy. All ya need is a wee bit of brains and a half-decent camera,” on a night when the team decided to hit the pub for a pint or two. The Scot continues, “Hell, ye dinnae even need a brain, people just shake their asses on camera and call it a day.”

And at first, Simon wasn’t interested. But somehow, he ended up posting his first tutorial video, uploaded with a half-assed, messy title. No one's going to watch it, anyway.

Until, his old laptop dinged with an email notification—someone had left a comment on his video, “Great video. Precise and thorough. Earned a sub.” Zero became one subscriber, then two, ten, until he had 98. It was a random channel, actually; it didn’t focus on one type of content. He posted whatever he wanted to post—and it ended up being something like fishing, survival tips, DIY engine modification or something like that. And sometimes even cooking.

Simon thought of making a video about disassembling and assembling different types of weapons, but ended up not doing so to avoid comments about the military. So, he uploaded that video of him cooking the easiest thing he could—English Breakfast. And you. You stumbled upon that video.

It’s funny, that this gruff-voiced, tattooed man who keeps his identity anonymous by staying behind the camera has his own way of cooking his sausages, paying attention to the details of his scrambled eggs and flipping his toast to the perfect crispness. He slips in a few tips, a few lame jokes that end up being funny because of the chuckle you hear in the video. You don’t usually leave comments or even like videos on YouTube, but—

“I never thought I’d crave a full English breakfast until now. Love the step-by-step instructions. And just wanted to say, the voice and the accent… *chef’s kiss*”

When you wrote that, you weren’t thinking anything. After all, you weren’t the only one saying that—the comment section was filled with compliments, and four of them also mentioned how his voice made them crave something and it’s not the food.

You weren’t expecting anything until a ding caught your attention from your laptop the next morning. A new email – from Youtube. A reply from Reaper777. Who's that? Oh, oh.

“Glad you liked the video. Maybe I’ll make more videos just for you then.”

… Reaper777, are you flirting? The corners of your lips tug as your smile spreads; your fingers fly to your phone screen and you quickly type a response.

“Can I make some special requests then?” and send. Then, another ding.

Reaper777: Let’s hear it.

And that was the beginning of a long thread of comments under a Youtube video on how to make a full English breakfast.

[author note: i need to get this off my system!! | CALL OF DUTY MASTERLIST. WRITING COMMISSION. CHECK OUT MY ONGOING SIMON FIC!]

[uusira]

fic prompt! Since I just landed on a flight home, how about Buck and Tommy fly somewhere and this is the time that Buck gets to really see Tommy being a nerd about flying, even if he's not flying the plane himself. If it sparks joy. 😊

Sarah i know i'm so late, but I've been thinking about this since you sent it.. finally, an idea came by lol (hope you like it 🥰)

Buck was mid-ramble about the aerodynamics of commercial planes—something he'd picked up during a late-night internet deep dive before their trip—when he paused, noticing Tommy sitting rigidly beside him.

Tommy’s hand gripped the armrest tightly, his fingers tapping an uneven rhythm as though he couldn’t quite keep them still. His jaw was set, lips pressed into a thin line, and his gaze flickered back and forth between the window and the seat in front of him.

“You okay?” Buck asked, tilting his head toward him.

“Yeah, fine,” Tommy replied quickly, his voice clipped. His eyes didn’t meet Buck’s, and his grip on the armrest tightened slightly as the plane jolted, turning onto the main runway.

Buck didn’t press him. Instead, he shifted in his seat, leaning just a little closer.

As the plane accelerated for takeoff, Tommy exhaled sharply, his foot bouncing lightly against the floor. His fingers tapped the armrest before curling tightly, knuckles pale. His breathing was shallow—measured, as if keeping himself in check. Buck noticed without a word, his gaze flicking briefly to Tommy’s hand before sliding his own over it. His thumb brushed lightly against Tommy’s wrist, a quiet reassurance.

Tommy didn’t react at first, but then Buck shifted his hand, gently coaxing Tommy’s fingers to relax. Tommy hesitated, glancing at Buck out of the corner of his eye, but the tension in his grip eased. Slowly, almost shyly, his fingers relaxing enough for Buck to intertwine them with his own.

Buck didn’t say anything, didn’t even glance at him, just kept talking about the mechanics of lift-off as though nothing was out of the ordinary. His voice was steady and warm, grounding in a way that pulled Tommy’s focus from the roaring engines and the tilt of the plane as it left the ground.

Tommy’s grip tightened briefly around Buck’s hand, but this time it wasn’t out of nervousness—it was something quieter, steadier. Buck’s faint smile grew as he felt the shift, his thumb brushing lightly along the side of Tommy’s hand.

By the time the plane leveled out, Tommy had regained his composure. His usual confidence returned, and Buck could see it in the way he subtly shifted in his seat, reclaiming his space.

And their fingers stayed intertwined, neither of them letting go.

“Sorry about that,” Tommy muttered, finally looking at Buck. “Guess I do not like flying unless I’m the one in control.”

Buck shrugged, giving him an easy grin. “Makes sense. You’re used to being the guy behind the stick. Kind of weird to trust someone else to do the job.”

Tommy let out a soft laugh, nodding. “Exactly.”

Buck leaned closer, his eyes lighting up. “But you’ve got to admit, it’s kind of amazing to just sit back and think about how all this works. I mean, did you know that commercial planes—”

“—can fly even if one engine goes out?” Tommy interrupted; his tone slightly smug. He gave Buck a sidelong glance, his lips twitching into a grin. “Come on, Evan. I’ve been flying helicopters long enough to know a thing or two about rotors and wings—definitely more than you.”

Buck feigned offense, his hand still resting lightly in Tommy’s. “First of all, rude. Second of all, helicopters are completely different from planes. And third, this is my thing. You don’t get to outdo me in rambling about cool stuff.”

Tommy chuckled, leaning his head back against the seat. “Fine. You get this one. But only because I already know all the facts.”

“Oh, do you?” Buck shot back, leaning forward in challenge.

Tommy’s face lit up in a way Buck rarely saw. “Okay, look, I’ll give you this,” Tommy began, his tone shifting into the cadence of someone who truly loved what they were talking about. “Planes are efficient and all, but helicopters? They’re the real magic. Think about it—rotor blades generate lift, but they’re also responsible for propulsion. You’re balancing pitch, yaw, and roll all at the same time. It’s like juggling while standing on a tightrope during a windstorm.”

Tommy kept going, now diving into the mechanics of different flight systems and the nuances between military and civilian helicopters. “And then there’s autorotation recovery—people think it’s impossible, but if you’ve got the skill and focus—”

He suddenly trailed off, catching Buck’s gaze. Buck was staring at him, eyes twinkling and a soft smile curling his lips.

Tommy froze, blinking. “What?”

“What what?” Buck asked, his smile widening innocently.

Tommy’s cheeks turned pink. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Buck chuckled. “Nothing, I’m just listening.”

“Oh…” Tommy hesitated, his blush deepening. “Uh, yeah. Sorry.”

“Sorry? No, I like it. Come on, tell me more!” Buck urged, grinning. “But also, don’t be so biased about helicopters. I also need to know more about planes in general!”

Tommy’s lips twitched into a bashful smile before he nodded, launching back into his explanation with renewed enthusiasm. He gestured with his hands as he spoke, describing the differences in flight dynamics between fixed-wing and rotary-wing aircraft, his voice growing more animated with each passing second.

Buck watched him, mesmerized by the way Tommy’s eyes lit up, the way his hands moved as though he could hardly contain his excitement. Finally, Buck raised a hand, halting Tommy mid-sentence.

“Wait a minute,” Buck said, leaning in. Before Tommy could ask why, Buck kissed him—a brief, warm press of lips that left Tommy blinking in surprise.

Buck pulled back just enough to grin at him. “I might be starting to understand why you never stop me when I ramble.”

Tommy’s smile grew, wide and unrestrained, and before Buck could say another word, Tommy leaned in and kissed him again—a quick, joyful press of lips that made Buck’s heart flip.

When Tommy pulled back, his voice was soft and full of warmth. “I love you.”

Buck blinked, his grin spreading even wider. And he said in a mock-surprise “You do?”

Tommy rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward despite himself.

“Just making sure,” Buck teased, his tone light, as if he wasn’t already beaming. “Because I love you too.”

Tommy let out a laugh and without thinking, he brought their intertwined hands up, pressing a quick kiss to the back of Buck’s hand. The small gesture made Buck’s heart skip, but before he could say anything, Tommy leaned back, his grin turning playful. “Okay, so… does this mean I get to win the argument about helicopters being better?”

“Absolutely not,” Buck said, laughing as he bumped his shoulder against Tommy’s. “But I’ll let you try and convince me.”

He glanced at Buck, hesitant for a beat, then took a breath and continued where he left off. “Okay, fine. But since you’re so determined to make this a debate, let me explain why helicopters still have the edge—”

Buck interrupted with a mock groan, throwing his head back. “Oh, here we go again.”

Tommy just laughed, a bright, happy sound that filled the small space between them, and Buck couldn’t help but think that this—this—was his favorite sound in the world.

[henry7931]

Halloween Tales: Pumkle!

Caleb:

Okay I realize it’s not the best looking pumpkin but I tried my best! And I really wanted to do something fun for the season so… I guess I started with carving a pumpkin? I even named him Albert lol.

I’m 21, single, gay, and kinda lonely all around. I’ve really tried making attempts at making friends in my new college town but I guess I’m just weird. Plus, it doesn’t help that my parents got me a townhome to myself.

I started to head inside when I heard the sound of a car pulling in. I look up and knew instantly by the 2009 mustang that it was in fact my uncle Dennis.

“Oh great!”

Dennis climbs out and immediately starts talking.

“Sup Bud!”

“Hi Uncle Dennis. What are you doing here?”

“Well I talk to my brother and I’m out of a job right now. And he said I can come live with you for a bit. So looks like we’re roommates!”

“Fuck…” I say under my breath.

I thought for a moment he heard me but he just kept talking… which eventually turned into a ramble.

“So yeah, like I was saying you’re going to have to be cool with what I want around here. Starting with getting rid of this stupid pumpkin.”

“Oh come on Dennis! I just got done with carving it! His name’s Albert.”

“Ha! You named him? How fucking silly! We’ll say goodbye to Andy.”

“Albert.”

Dennis carries my pumpkin to our dumpster and tosses it in.

I walk back into my house pissed off. I couldn’t believe he just did that!

I stayed in my room for hours trying my best to avoid him. But eventually I have to leave my room.

It’s 8 o’clock now and I walk out of my room. I look around and Dennis had literally turned my place into his own person man cave.

I walk outside to find sitting on my front porch.

“You’re awake! I was wonderin when you’re gonna start cooking dinner because I’m starving!”

“Bro you can’t cook?”

“Hell no! But you can,” he says lighting a cigarette.

“Why would I do that,” I say crossing my arms.

“Well you can cook for me or I can tell your parents all the bad things you’ve been doing here.”

I roll my eyes and stormed into the kitchen. I cook for him and he even complained about the food!

After that, I uncle Dennis pulled off his clothes down to his boxers and flung his body on the couch. I couldn’t believe his lack of decency. But I also felt something strange deep inside of me. A weird attraction to his fit body.

I realize my uncle is a good looking man but his personality sucks! And I feel so grossed out by even finding myself being so turned on…

But his big smelly feet… his pits… his chest… his bulge… god it’s been a minute since I’ve seen a handsome my body that wasn’t on the internet.

I run off to bed and lay down. I realize that I have a raging boner. So I angrily started jerking off trying not to think about Dennis.

But alas… his body is all I have on my mind.

I think about how he’s such a dick that I literally blurt out, “I wish that I could change Dennis! That someone or something would just takeover him and let me do whatever I want with his body! I want to smell his feet so bad! I want to feel his cock… his balls! Have his strong hands rub all over me!!! Ohhhh fucccccc…”

I came at the thought and soon fell asleep.

The Next Morning…

I wake up and get out of bed. I head to the bathroom and here Dennis is inside.

“Hey Dennis can you hurry up! I have to pee!”

Dennis swings open the door and he’s standing in his briefs last night and he’s WEARING MY PUMPKIN ALBERT OVER HIS HEAD!

“Really funny Dennis! Now take it off.”

Dennis shrugs at me and then I notice something… the pumpkin is hallow…

I begin to scream and run… the pumpkinhead wearing uncles body follows me until I’m in a corner.

“What are you going to do to me?!?,” I say to it as it fully approaches.

He reaches out and grabs my hand. He moves my hand to Dennis’s crotch. He return reaches into my pajama pants and starts fondling my dick…

“Holy crap…”

I lose train of thought for second because it feels so good.

“ Hold on a sec, how and why are you controlling Dennis’s body?”

He turns and looks around the room trying to search for something. And then gestures like he wants to write something.

I find him a pin and paper. I give it to him and he starts to write.

“Hi Caleb, it’s me Albert! I heard your wish last night and decided to take over Dennis. Thank you for granting me his body, I’m so happy to have it. Now I can’t wait to serve you. This body is now just as much as yours as it is mine. Oh and one more thing! Sorry I look scary right now butI’ll look normal soon I promise!”

“My wish… that’s right! Wait… What about Dennis’s uhhh head.”

Albert grabs my hand and leads me to the front porch. I see a new pumpkin sitting with what looks to be a very angry face.

“That’s Dennis?”

He gives me a thumbs up.

“So what now?”

He takes my hand and leads me back to the bedroom.

Albert lays down on my bed and pulls off his new bodies briefs.

The beautiful body that once belonged to my Uncle Dennis is now completely naked in front of me.

I thought for a moment that maybe I should stop but what’s the point? I can’t undo anything now.

I get into bed with him and immediately press my face into his crotch. He has this mush to him that so hot to me and I just know it’s been a minute since his body has had a proper shower.

I kiss down his thighs and look down at his big sexy feet.

I look up at Albert and say, “feel free to play with your new dick for a few. I’m going to be down here,” I say directing to his feet.

I run my tongue up and down his soles while watching Albert gently fondle his new dick. He twists his nipples which causes his dick to leak a bit.

I stand up and pull off everything that I’m wearing.

I put his big feet together and start rubbing my boner in between his soles. Albert catches on and starts giving me a foot job.

He works his toes so well… it’s impressive especially since last night he didn’t have any.

I moaning loudly and Albert pace’s faster on both of our cocks. Im watching his big hairy balls move up and down… his tight grip on his cock…

I can’t take much more…

We both explode at the same time. His feet and his chest is covered in cum.

I lick his toes clean and work my way up to his chest.

I lick his cum off of him and I notice something. His cum has a pumpkin flavor to it.

I bust out laughing and crawl up to his chest. He pulls me in and we’re both lying naked cuddled up together.

A few hours later, we wake up from a nap and we’re both hard again. This time Albert takes control and works my cock for me.

I cum again and crawl down to his dick. I give his throbbing head a kiss before sucking him off.

Albert seems to love it from how squirmy it made his body. He must have known he was close because he literally pushes my head in and cums down my throat.

We eventually get up and I take us to the bathroom.

I turn on the shower and we both get in. Our bodies are rubbing soap all on each other and I keep kissing him. Albert seems to be fascinated by my cock because he can’t stop touching it.

I feel his cute hairy butt and got an idea. I gingerly inserted a finger into his hole.

“Is that okay?” I ask him.

That’s when he makes almost a grunting noise.

“Oh my god Albert! Are you about to speak?”

“Mmmmhuuuu-yuuu-sss.”

“Wow! Thats awesome!”

After our shower I dry us off and I head to the suitcase Derek brought. I dig through his clothes and found an outfit for Albert that I thought would look sexy on him.

I get him dressed and he sits on the couch. I pull my phone out to take a picture.

“Okay! Flex for me sexy!”

He taps at the couch to come sit with him but I tug off his boots and pull off his socks.

“Sorry I like seeing them.”

He wraps his arm around me and we watch a Halloween horror special together.

Soon it’s night time and I offer to cook for Albert but instead he gets up. He heads to the kitchen and starts cooking for me.

“You’re so sweet!”

As he brings out a plate, he starts to make a muffling noise.

“Uuuu— rr— muh-muh love.”

“Aww thank you. You’re my love too.”

After dinner, we both strip out of our clothes and full around for the third time.

This time Albert lets me insert a couple of fingers into his hole. I work it for a bit trying to be soft since he’s so tight.

I pull out and carefully insert my dick into him. His body quivers, I move back and forth inside of him.

He runs his hands all over me. He starts to moan…it’s a deep moan that sounds almost like Dennis’s voice.

“Harder Caleb! It feels soooo good,” he says clear as day.

I go faster and faster….

We’re both moaning so loud!

I feel myself about to cum inside of him and his dick explodes.

I lick his chest clean and we both fell asleep.

The next morning I wake up and almost thought yesterday was a dream.

I look over and Albert’s not in bed with me. But I notice a bunch of pieces of pumpkin are laying in the bed.

“Oh my god Albert!”

I rush out of my bedroom and run to the living room.

But I’m caught off guard when I hear a familiar voice say, “Good morning Caleb.”

I turn and see him… he has a human head! An exact match of Dennis…

“Hi…,” I say taking precaution just in case last night was a dream.

“Sorry, I wanted to surprise you. Do you like the new head?”

“Albert?”

“It’s me my love!”

I rush over to him and touch his face.

“God, this is… wow this is amazing!”

I kiss his lips and we keep kissing over and over again.

“So can I do that thing with my new mouth on your cock now?”

“Oh god yes!”

A Month Later…

“So you ready to meet our family?”

“Yeah but do I have to pretend I’m Dennis?”

“Yeah babe and you can’t be flirty with my parents around. It’s taboo.”

“Fine! But can we at least share a bed?”

“Well I guess I’m sure that would be fine since they only have my old bed.”

“Great! Now come give your uncle Dennis a kiss before we have to go!”

I roll my eyes and pulled Albert in for a long kiss.

“Oh don’t forget the pumpkin pie! I made it from scratch.” 😉

[chlmtsdoll]

BORN TO BE SEEN

Timothée Chalamet x female reader

☆ summary: dating an A-list movie star isn’t cut out for everyone, your exhaustingly in love and devoted to Timothée — but with his full schedule of press, interviews, and events it’s a non stop challenge to get your man alone.

☆ word count: 7.7k

☆ warnings: 18 +, smut, teasing, edging, mostly exhibitionism, oral (m) reviving, lots of pda, praise kink, pet names, dirty talk, heavy fluff, angst, obsession/worship

☆ A/N: I cannot believe this is my first ever Timmy fic after stanning him for years. I really let my fangirl flag fly so I hope this is well loved. Part two soon. 💋

There wasn’t anything but the landscape of a few stars scattered around the dark blues and grey of the night sky when your jet had finally landed. You hadn’t slept the whole flight. Not due to the anticipation of when you could finally lay eyes on your star boy after weeks of only getting as much as a couple late night calls and red carpet photos all over the internet from every journalist, high society article, or press outlet that could exist. You were proud. Maybe the proudest girlfriend out there, but there were times you could see how he fought the balance of it all not getting to his head.

The lights in the space that was exactly comforting to you were rising and you click your phone to check the time. Half after 3am.

You were tired, hell, only just pushing. But you couldn’t have been more awake with the adrenaline of getting your man for a whole three weeks that was starting to rush in.

“Okay, hotel is secured. They have your chauffeur waiting to take you straight there so you can rest, I’ll get your bags- -” your shared assistant that your boyfriend always kept around to take care of you when flying you out, was ready to go as she gently assured your stay. You already pictured it would be the most glamorous in-crowd hotel you could fathom. (Picked by him) you assumed there would be bodyguards with champagne even waiting for you outside this jet knowing your boyfriend.

But, you shook your head gently, with a smile. Already grabbing your designer purse to exit and get to fresh air finally. “No, no. I want to see him first.” You told your assistant and she only looked a tad stressed as she had already gotten out her phone to text a schedule change to the chauffeur.

“No problem, it’s already taken care of. I know he’s dying to see you.” Her voice had a flow of newfound tenderness to it — that made your blush heighten just a second before you and your bags were being escorted from the jet. Sure, there wasn’t a squander of sun out and lucky no paps to be found. But the moment your heel touched the gravel you pushed on your sunglasses (mainly to hide your tired eyes from your driver who was greeting you and taking your things in order.)

Scatter brained, you watched the lights of the new city you’d get used to for the next couple of weeks. Thinking and sorting out the plans you and your boyfriend would make in the wist of his tumultuous schedule. You knew he was a busy man. Maybe the busiest in the industry as we speak, all the promotion, press conferences and red carpets… with awards season creeping around the corner there was but so much time and attention he could give to you, his girl, in between.

The exhaustion, the flights back and forth. You did it all for him. And he made sure you’d be there to experience the bliss of having such a life so young. As much as possible.

His sweet reminders of just how much your hard working man adored you even through the chaos of it all. The world at his finger tips — you were always on his mind.

Even if the moments in between could be the sweetest you’d maybe ever experience, your love and his fame, it was a rollercoaster time to time. And the media wasn’t a first grade class, the pressure of it could be a thing of its own.

Everyone knew that you were the movie stars supporting and to put it as they say ‘almost annoyingly visually perfect’ girlfriend. They all were obsessed with the bond you shared. The it-couple factor you have. Your all too well, put together clothing that possessed the it-girl factor they all feed off of right beside your boyfriend. And you’d seen how his fans could nearly feel how obsessed with each other you are, through every snap of a camera shot that was published of the two of you.

And of course, that came with struggles, the public isn’t known for always being nice. But that’s what pushed the two of you even closer. He was there to protect you from it all, never making you feel like a burden in his limelight.

The idea of seeing him in just a few had your teeth bearing into your bottom lip, with a crooked smile and a soft squeeze to the hem of your skirt, you’d been pulling up to the dimly lit back entrance of the venue. You remembered him saying he’d be working late for a last minute photoshoot for his upcoming snl performance. He’s been over the moon about it and you hadn’t complained once every time you’d been a giggling mess when he’d run with his excitement of being back over the phone with you, no matter how late or early.

You missed him.

Before the driver could come to a halt, you’d already been grabbing your purse to jump out of the car.

“This way,” your assistant, right behind, had voiced to you — but as you go close to the door, the driver was peaking at your absence of the back seat.

“I can wait out here, ms. I know you had a long flight, there’s no problem.”

“Oh.. no, it’s fine, take a lap. I won’t be quick.” You flashed him a small thankful smile as your assistant braced your back gently to lead you inside the venue.

There wasn’t much to it. A long hallway, an elevator, and another long hallway. You knew he’d definitely not be expecting you to have came straight to see him, probably not wanting to bother you with texts thinking you’d be fast asleep under the warmth of luxury hotel sheets at this hour.

You hadn’t told him you landed anyways after all.

So you hoped the click of your heels against the floors as your assistant guided you to the back green rooms wouldn’t ruin the surprise.

Soon just hearing him made the tightness in your stomach come escalating when you sought out the sound of his voice. A few doors down. You could tell he’d been conversing in a way that he’d sure been smiling ear to ear. And your favorite tune there is, his follow up laughter that echoed as you got closer. Your favorite sound. Your obsession. Your home after another lonely flight.

There wasn’t another man out there like Timothee.

Stopping to watch him from the doorway first, your arms folded as your heart melted. You watch him take up the space in the room like second nature.

He’d been goofing around with his photographer Aidan. His hair an untamed state that looked dreamy as is, standing lean and stature in some ridiculously colorful outfit that he made look effortlessly cool. He moved his hands expressive as ever as he laughs in a humble tune. And his smile, oh, his smile in your opinion, could save lives if the right people were in charge.

Your assistant walked ahead, but Timothée hadn’t noticed you just yet — he’d been pretending to create some kind of silly music video with his photographer trailing around him, as undeniably impressed in a way you had no doubt was a reaction your boyfriend had no issue bringing out of anyone who’s around him. His fingers blaze through his hair quickly, trying his best not to laugh too much at his own radiance.

He was perfect like this. In his element. So beautiful in a star-like way that for a moment your smile was so large to the point your face began to hurt. You forgot you’re not just watching him on a tiny screen anymore — but right now. In real time. Your angel boy being right in front of you.

And then there’s something that shifts, after a mere few minutes of conversation, something in his expression notes he’s already aware of your presence, like he feels you there. When he does finally turns around, with that soft boyish grin creeping up on his lips, eyes full of something playful, and that damn charm — you barely have time to sink in how good he looks before,

“You came all this way just to stare ?”

You giggle out a soft squeal and there was not much to say before you were springing to be swept up in his arms. Heels once against the floor now being lifted as Timmy held you to him like it’s been more than a couple weeks, like centuries. Your lips mesh on instant, unhesitatingly taking it in with a little “mmm” of satisfaction. You wrapped your arms over his shoulders and his grip around you was firm with warmth. He smirked into the kiss, you could feel it even with your eyes closed, the tickle of his mustache — new yet familiar, you let out giggles in between the perfectly timed and soft yet daring kisses he left that said ‘fuck I missed you.’

Days of distance melting away and the two of you were completely unbothered by anyone around watching, already swooning and playfully shaking their heads knowing the magnitude you shared as a couple. Even as your boyfriend set you back to your feet, you’d still been trying to grasps a leg around him, feel the roots of his hair through your fingers. And he couldn’t let up on you either as he kissed on your face till you were a mess of laughter.

It felt like highschool. Timmy’s team, his photographer, your assistants — they didn’t exist in your reality. It’s just you and him.

“I missed you.. what are you doing here, baby ? I thought you'd be at the suite by now,” Timothee voiced softly as he pushed a few of your locks out of your face to see you. Eyes sparking up at him like it was the first time. Your smile beaming, and you held his wrists.

“I couldn’t wait to see you.. I had to see you ! It’s been three weeks, Timmy.”

“I know,” He laughs and leaned in to peck your cheek, your hands ghost over his rhinestone necklace with admiration and your eyes inch down his body of intermixed clothing of colors and brands, you grin.

“This is.. a look.”

“You like ?” His grin was back and you bit your lip just enough to bring the pride to his expression. Your eyes flicker over his studded belt.

“You know I love everything on you,” Your voice was humming of flirtatious notes towards your man, you drape your arms over his shoulders again and Timothee managed to keep his cordial manner but slightly licked over his bottom lip and scanned just over your head to check for the attention of the room, and to your luck, his team members had gone about what they’d been doing before your arrival. So, Timothee’s hands gracefully on your waist, flow a bit lower as he kept you close and under the gaze of his hooded green eyes. You were stuck there.

His fingers graze over the tight fitted mini skirt you had been flaunting. A light grey cashmere. You could tell he was holding back from the three weeks weight of not being close enough to feel the heat of your skin — trying to fight it’s way through him. Your hands now gently drifting his arms and the look in your eyes stricken by the man you got to call yours, Timmy just pulled you a little closer so you’d been hovering his chest. And he’d been able to lower his voice to whisper in your ear,

"This skirt… how could I focus on work tonight, baby ?" He was trying to keep a normal embrace of you, but he’d had that sly look of course. His fingers brushing against your thigh again and he was massaging the right of your hip with tenderness — just enough to make you shiver and heave a small little gasp. Pulling back to look up at him with doting eyes and a small sideways smile of mischief on your lips.

“I just wanted to give you a little surprise,” Your tone sweet, but laced with a hidden, lustrous, message behind it you knew your boyfriend could only take in doses. He scoffed with a chuckle and looked over to a corner of the room, noticing the time had been slipping as you’d already stolen his attention from his shoot. Quite the distracting treat.

“Uh huh.. we’ll talk about it later..” he started and he leaned back in to leave another slow, tasteful and greedy kiss on your lips. It had you closing your eyes and lingering for more. “Go get some rest, chéri, I love you.” Timmy slowly inched away with a soft chuckle as your intertwined hands stay locked although drifted between the two of you for a moment. The firm grasp of just not wanting to let your boyfriend out of your reach consuming you while the playful pout-like smile you gave him was what had him probably now staying till around five am.

When your fingers do slip, and your dragging your feet to walk away, instead biting your lip like a love stuck school girl — you watch him part. With the same restraint and grin upon his lips as he mouths a little “go” to your gone essence. And you were holding down your miss, your need, your want for him and to stay in his world the entire ride to your suite. The ravishing room with a view of the city, towering buildings, an outlook from an enormous glass wall. It all made you feel a little less distant knowing you’d finally been in the same city as your man. That’s what you needed. Close enough to your Timothee. At least for you.

With a soft smile, your bags became your last priority when you dropped them to reach what was left on the king sized bed for you. Pink peonies and red roses. Your absolute favorite, left next to a box of laudrée macarons. Elegantly wrapped in ribbon.

Your heart was going mad. And your face flustered as you plopped on the bed to find the pint note left on top of the candy, “Un cadeau pour la femme que j’aime. Tu me manquais trop, bébé.” You read instantly with the sound of Timmy’s voice in mind, you were rubbing your bitten lip to hide your obvious blush from the empty room of course. A girlish titter leaving you as you lay back and stare over the sweet words your boyfriend had written.

It was things like this. Dating an international superstar could be a deal breaker for most, but you weren’t like most. And neither your boyfriend — he made you feel loved.

No matter how far.

So even being as hard to pin down as he was, between filming and touring, meetings and flights. When it came to you. He did whatever he could to make time.

Eventually, you had fallen asleep with a quarter of the box of chocolates gone delightfully, and sunken between the silk sheets as the low sunlight of the day crept in. You slept so heavily you didn’t even wake when Timothee snuck in somewhere between five thirty and six am. Probably only letting himself sleep for a few hours before he was up, dressed and ready — but not to start promotion or press.

“Mon amour..” you heard a tender note into your ear as you’d been half in a dream and also waking up, feeling a gentle kiss being left on your neck, and hands through your hair. “Baby.. -wake up.” You sigh a tired-some little hum before shifting from your side to your back. A sleepy grin takes upon your lips when you feel another kiss embrace your jaw. Soon opening your eyes to not just Timmy, but the keys to his BMW dangling from his fingers.

“Brian won’t be on my neck for a few hours.. wanna take her out to go shopping ?”

Something along the lines of a squeal and a yawn was your answer as you jump up from your comfort almost immediately. Not taking your time at all before you’d been out the door, Timothee hardly got any real free time away from his work and it wasn’t even a question that you’d take it for granted. A quick fur coat, your heels, and a mini skirt would do. It was a shock to you both how fast you were out that door, hand in hand of course, for the first time ever.

While your plans were to shop. Something the two of you shared an overwhelming desire and bond for, it couldn’t have been less about clothes and more about when you could get them off. Timothee eyeing through some Chanel sunglasses, and you on him, caressing your finger tips over the loops of his belt like the clock was ticking before he’d get a text or call from his manager.

It was excruciating but he showed less resistant than you expected. Leaning over tiers of shoes to kiss you, rest his hand on the small of your back, even grip your side time to time. Pulling you in close so he could whisper a “I see paps starting to line up outside.. let’s give them a show, yeah ?”

And that was like ecstasy for you. One thing you both were good at, was not minding a little attention from the cameras. So when you and your boyfriend had been with your purses, shoes, pretty patted wallets and all, you two went into pda overdrive.

It was between you and the check out counter who’d get to Timmy first. And had simply won.

Your man was reaching into his back pocket to pay. But you didn’t make it that easy as you’d been standing on your tip toes, leaving kisses, soft pecks and smooches all over his face. His lips and his collar. “Baby..” Timothee chuckled as you’d cupped his jaw. He’d lifted his chin playfully higher so you’d struggle to reach and he could attend to getting his credit card out. But that was the last thing on your mind when you couldn’t even get yourself off his sent now. So you only followed, reaching for his lips anyway,

“What ?” Your giggle is soft with your reply, hands lowering to his neck with a small sound of pleasure leaving you when your boyfriend couldn’t help but lean into your kiss unapologetically. Even as he had passed off his card to the the cashier behind you, whom was truly trying to look away from your affection on display.

But completely distracted and without a care of who’d been in there, even possibly a fan being at a lost for words of the actors drift right now — Timmy was too lost in you.

“You’re something else, you know that ?” the corner of his lips curled to a grin when his hands rested on your waist, you pulled back to look at him. Eyes staying on his sweet lips that were yours to tease only with a devious smile.

“You can’t tell me to put on a show and expect it not to be good…” you hum and your boyfriend was in a painful field not to let his fixation on you over take him. Making himself as collected as possible, take you by the hand, and your bags of course— out of there quickly. You titter as you trail behind him in that moment which was caught in hundreds of snaps from the paparazzi outside. It would be published everywhere in approximately twenty minutes.

"Did you have fun spending all my money, baby?"

Your smile achingly sweet. "Well.. you love spoiling me."

To which he chuckles and mutters, “how couldn’t I ?”

When you two got back to your hotel, standing in the elevator with the somberly slow pace it’s going, it’s light music being a bore when you’d rather hear your name being purred from Timmy’s lips, you needed to get him up to that suite immediately.

And to only make it tougher — Timothee was leaning against the elevator wall, eyes on you with that little grin. The one that made your body ache. The corner of your lips tugging on a smile and you’re trying not to look at him. You shift your weight on your heels. Gripping the ribbon handle of the bag holding the freshly bought designer accessories.

“Stop staring at me and pull up your pants.” You direct your need to be pushed against this elevator wall to teasing your man as your eyes flicker to his jeans that were sagging off of his ass.

He just smirked, and annoyingly tugged them down a little farther so you could see the hem of his Calvin Klines. “Ma chérie, you love it. C‘mon.” He beckoned and you breathed out some pent up air. Biting your lip.

“I do… I love that shit,” was mumbled from you, and your man heard with a cocky chuckle as he ran his tongue over his teeth and sure enough, he was backing you against the elevator wall.

A proud sense of glee was washing over as you’d claim to be a master at manifestation. How quickly Timmy’s hands find your hips, leaning down to put his mouth on to yours in a crash, like he’d been starving for this — because he has.

“You really did come all this way just to tease me.” your boyfriend’s voice sets lower, teasing, raw. You’re barely getting the chance to respond because he’s excellently taking away your ability too. You softly groan into the way his lips move on yours like a dream. One hand gripping your hip, the other tilting your chin up as he kisses you —deep, slow, like he’s savoring the taste. Your fingers tangle in his short curls, pulling just enough to make him groan.

"I missed you," you breathe between kisses that are growing sloppier, needier. More urgent as the floors escalate. And your risk driven man smiles against your mouth. "Yeah?" He feels out the metal handle bar against your back, hands trail lower, gripping your thighs, as if he’s about to lift you against the wall, you giggle into the urgent kisses.

Elevator sex ? Fuck yes.

Was your fantastical thought before you heard a ding.

The doors slide open and a stranger steps in. The core shatter of feeling Timothee pull back from you on instant washes over and completely fucks up your vibe.

His jaw clenched, and a wave of frustration hit as your face was burning as you adjusted your skirt.

Your terrified they could hear the way your heart was nearly pounding out of your chest. And Timothee gives them a polite nod, solidifying his charm always. He stuffed into his pockets like you weren’t caught in an unseeable act at all.

The seconds stretch painfully.

Could the door just fucking open ?

You tap your foot. He sucks in his breath.

And when you shift, still feeling the faint touch of Timothee’s hands on you, you peak up at your boyfriend, he’s smirking.

Finally another floor hits.

They step out and the second the doors close, your boyfriend has you against the wall. “I wasn’t done.” His tone deeper, haughty, as he now grabs your wrist. They’re above your head in no time and you gasp,

“Timmy-”

“Shh.”

He’s looking up at the numbers on the top of the confined space going once again painfully slow, the camera beside it — then he’s looking back down at you. Fuck it. He’s pressing his body against yours slow. Intertwining his fingers within yours at a toe curling pace. He’s trailing torturous, sweet kisses down your collarbone. Breathing on to your skin and suctioning his lips on a final place. You whimper something hard to tell. You let your eyes close and feel it. Feel his large hands, exploring and groping your body, your thighs, your ass. Moving you against that wall like a trophy. His lips move to over your chest where your cleavage is just perfectly on display. Licking over the top your breast, taking his time. Running you through.

Your watching. Watching carefully every ounce of longing over the last couple of weeks he’s putting into tasting you. Feeling his want and need as he just keeps getting lower. Pressing a kiss to your abdomen till he’s on his knees. Hiking your mini skirt up a little just for him to see. Carving your leg over his shoulder and kissing on your inner thighs with a soft hum,

“Timothee..” you pant as you view with hands going to his hair, running through his scalp and your skirt up just enough to see green orbs staring up at you as his lips grace your skin. With hunger, and a small grin on display. His lips kiss, peck and smooch on your thighs till he’s breathing out near the thin layer of fabric over your cunt. He pressed a careful kiss there,

He’s really going to tear into you in this fucking elevator.

But that came crashing down when the elevator dings again. And before you both can even think about getting your shit together, in walks Brian. Timothee’s manager. Someone who’s probably seen it all with him probably wasn’t prepared for was something like this.

He makes his presence known, “Seriously ?”

You were breathless as you gasps before covering your mouth. You hit Timothee in the shoulder who was gripping you and had no intention of stopping. Your face turned into the sun. You tried to fix your skirt that was slightly crooked, straightening up like you weren’t pinned against the wall about to get eaten out.

Brian was staring deadpan at Timothee who was reluctantly rising from his knees with more of a sense of frustration that he’d been interrupted from his girl over anything else. Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. Timothee had a daring look on his face, like he didn’t care. “What ? She just got here.” He chuckled, unbothered. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Right,” his manager sighs, running a hand down his face. "And in five hours, you have a live audience watching you host SNL.“

Your heart has calmed down for once and you noticed your man most likely now laughing at your shaken appearance now, yet he’s still got his hands looped around your waist.

Brian just shakes head. "I don’t care what you do. Just... at least make it to rehearsal on time." Then he finally steps out of the elevator when the floor hits.

The second the doors shut again —

"How many more time you think we’ll get caught ?" Timmy is tugging you back in already, and you’re pushing him away with a bashful snicker.

“You’re crazy.”

☆

Due to your own gentle encouragement, and firmness to keep your clothes on — Timothee did end up making it to rehearsals on time. With as much energy it took to restrain yourself from making anymore risqué moves with your boyfriend, keeping your hands to yourself until after the show was necessity for such a huge night.

In all his greatest, you had no doubt he would blow the world away once again with his presence, his performance, his aura. It’s a feeling — the one where he doesn’t have to try to be amazing at everything he does.

So when your in a crowd of cheers, watching your man from side stage, overseeing him kill his opponents this awards season, the hug you had when meeting him back stage, was as authentic as could be. You threw your entire body into him the moment your bodyguards brought you back.

“You killed it, baby! You were amazing!” Your feet were off the floor again as he held you in his arms, his laughter closest to your ear, and the cast and crew around all came in hot with the excitement of the environment. You think back when you were out there, cheering for him. And his eyes matched yours for a moment, sparkle and all through the lights. A beam of ‘all for you’ like a subliminal message that only you caught.

He was setting you down with a brief kiss and you’d been smiling up at him after hanging on to it for a moment more.

“Are you ready to catch dinner with everyone? Change into that pretty dress we got earlier?” Timmy kissed your cheek with a grin, knowing you’d been thinking about that dress all day. Almost as much as him really.

“Wouldn’t you like a treat..”

“C’mon, don’t tease me. Where’s my reward for tonight ?”

Your eyes trail his figure with a little smirk, “Later.” You used his own game on him, and Timmy was putting his front back on not to draw attention to the way he’d ran a hand over his neck in primal repression, just before accepting your claim. He draped an arm over your shoulder, you blush.

Timothee got his team to take care of you as quick as possible. Not caring much for himself to do another outfit change when the ones he’s been in for back to back red carpet events were taking over every news outlet as we speak. His Yankees bomber jacket was his choice for the night. But you. You’d been dripping in drapes, rhinestones, and dollars by the time you’d been out of your suite again.

One thing about Timothee was that he was going to have you looking the prettiest, decked out for whatever event it was, on his arm. The Louboutins he gifted you the other night, along with simplistic jewelry that was not only blitzing with bling but had a message —

A chain around your neck with his initial.

So when he caught you in the suv to take you both to dinner, it was his unhinged jaw that did it for you.

“Holy fuck,” he didn’t even try to stutter when you sat extra close to him in that car. He kissed your shoulder. Diving in your florally vanilla sent.

Your smile proud, “this is all you, y’know.” You gesture to your dress, your diamonds, your Prada lipstick — but actually meaning all the heart you would put into being their for your man a million times again for what it’s worth. He was giving you a full dreamy grin as he looked over how chalant you’d been alongside his casualness. Reaching over to shut the door behind you, but getting extra close. So close his heat was emerged with yours, and his lips lingered your gloss for just a second.

And thank god the ride was short.

When you two got to the after party, it had been all flashes from the cameras the moment you stepped foot out of the car. So much so it was hard to see, hard to take shape of anything around you, but Timmy was the perfect gentleman — your hand locked in his as he lead you to your destination so you wouldn’t go blind by the lights. All those cameras, on him all the time. He was a pro at navigating it. So soon, the room was buzzing with nearly everyone currently relevant in Hollywood. Timothee effortlessly moving through the crowd, not giving quotes to reporters on purpose yet flashing that all knowing look.

All that as you we’re seated with him at a dimly lit table in the corner. Just how you liked, even with the chaos of all the stars around. His mind is completely on you.

Instead of sitting across, he’d moved his chair to sit right beside you. Taking your hand in his again and pressing it to his lips. After only an hour, when he’s sipping on a beverage and taking glimpses of you in, the way your dress sits and your collar bones look eloquently perfect. Your body was all he knew. They way you’d been playing with the ‘T’ chain around your neck, shining there with honor. All while you’re taking about him.

It makes him want to get you somewhere private and fast because you were unbearable (he’s terribly flattered).

“Oh my god,” you titter as you lift your phone that’s blowing up from messages from all your friends. Banging on about how iconic Timmy was tonight. “Everyone’s saying that Oscar is yours. And they’re totally right.”

He let’s out a humble chuckle and reaches out for his straw to stir around his drink, mumbling a soft “no, no.” He shakes his head, neat yet disheveled curls falling with.

“What do you mean no ? Yes !” You laugh more cordially so no cameras catch a bad shot of you looking insane.

Timothee gives you a fond smile, he watches your reaction to all his accomplishments and aways notices you might be a tad bit more excited — adorable and endearing, than he could ever imagine for himself. And you noticed that underneath his cool, the nervy jitter of his fingers would start up, so you set your phone down, you take his hand in yours, holding it under your chin with a sweet little smile.

“It’s already yours baby, you’re a prize.”

“You’re a prize,” he replied, green eyes never moving away from your shine.

You can’t help but blush, you were both so locked on one another. So into each other. Timmy let his thumb brush against your cheek, leaning in close and you felt a camera flash somewhere ahead of you — but it didn’t matter. You’re zoned in on the man beyond you.

“Can we get out of here ?” You suggested quite, but voice filled with a dazed kind of essence because your eyes flicker over his fit again. Saying so much without saying anything. He gets the hint and tenses up again.

“Are you suggesting we get away, mon belle?”

“Mhm” you nod as his thumb covers your bottom lip, almost slipping through before he catches himself in the act of being too taken by you. Your looking at him, pure yet seductive, and the corner of his lips curl upwards as he takes your breath away again in a gentle kiss. Before you knew it, Timmy was standing to his feet and taking both of your hands with him. He alerted Brian, his bodyguard and said his goodbyes to his peers before resting a hand on the deep of your back to meet your driver somewhere outside of the venue.

Of course, a hurd of fans, paparazzi and journalists all caught the two of you leaving that after party early and the sounds of screams mixed with paps trying to get to where your car was could be heard from the airport. Cameras were snapping photos of you, your glow, in the hard earned dazzle your boyfriend had been responsible for. And you had a polished expression. Waving to your audience, you didn’t mind at all having this dress in the press.

“Over here!” “Beautiful!” “Is that necklace in honor of your boyfriend?”

You were biting your lip and being an absolute doll for the paparazzi, giving a prideful beam over your shoulder at flashes — that being before Timothee took you by the hip. And pulled you into hiding with him in the car, you only giggled playfully when you’d been grabbed by him suddenly. He pretended to be annoyed by the paps asking him if he’d just talk about you. Even once, but, he held a small grin on his lips by the time you two were secured in the backseat of your ride. Because in the morning, you’d look stunning as ever. Posing for the cameras, hand in hand with him and it would be all over every social media platform in existence.

Everyone would go insane. His fans. The world. Obsessing over how you’d headed out early. Obsessed with how obsessed you were with one another.

Still on the high of his SNL performance, and the stride of his fame, with fans that were in tears as soon as he showed his face, paparazzi and people begging just to touch him. The chase and drive of award season and all, the praise, the status; you couldn’t have made the climax of his stardom feel like anything other than pure paradise. Solidifying his high paced lifestyle is all worth it when It’s only been a couple minutes since the driver pulled off, and you two had shut the window peek on sight.

the hum of the car engine was tough along the faint sound of people still screaming Timothée’s name in the distance while your all over him. Your glazed nails running down his chest, slow like you want to drive him insane. Your eyes were now dark, practically devouring him immediately. Your lips parted and meshing with his like you’d been starving. Timothee pulled you into his lap without anymore hesitation and you’d let out a little hum when the trace of his hands over your hips came in. Gripping on you like you’d get taken away if he didn’t grasp on long enough. Your hands go to his hair — Kissing deep, slow yet at a rushed pace, recklessly in that back seat.

Timmy’s Cartier ring, cold and sliding up your thigh, inching all over the way you sat on his lap and making sure to pull you in, keep you boarderline close. “Mmm.. mhm- -” was the only thing coming from you. Topping up so your knees were on the leather seats, on either side of his hips. And you deepen your smooches a little more and a soft groan comes from Timmy’s end. Your body drives him crazy. The way you arch your back ever so slightly. The way the fabric of your dress hugs your curves, clinging in all the right places.

And you’re flaunting it, teasing, and pushing on him. So he grips your ass with a little shake and you squeal with excitement. “I wish you could have seen yourself up there tonight. You looked- - fucking incredible.” You murmur against his skin, punctuating it with an open mouthed kiss.

Timothee smirks, “Yeah ? You liked that, huh ?”

“Yeah.. you’re so famous baby, and you work so hard. Everyone loves you.” You huff out a little sound, pressing your lips to the sharp line of his jaw, dragging your mouth against the slight scruff of his mustache, down to the heat of his neck. Your hands grazed there along with your kisses. “Never shave this okay ? It’s so hot.”

Timmy gives you that damn cocky grin, closing his eyes as he tilts back, giving you space to ruin him. “Mm, you're really gassin' me up right now.” His voice smug and heavy, hands ghosting over your inner thighs, daring to squeeze your ass some more which makes the dampness between your thighs rush in. You felt the stretch of his Adam’s apple along with a soft sigh that comes from his lips when you lick over his skin. His fingers tighten around your waist and he starts rocking you down against him and your eyes go intense and lost in his. His breath catches when your fingers only trace lower, teasing over his waistband.

You sincerely couldn’t sit with the temptation for another minute. So you lean up, find your balance within the bumpy ride pushing you only closer into your man, and speed to get his belt undone.

Just what he needs after all of it. The weeks that went by, the tiresome press and events. Alone with the love of his life, feeling him this way and getting him like this. That mix of devotion and sensuality. The voice of his girl right now, telling him everything he needs to hear “you’re taking home that Oscar, baby” — that’s exactly what he craves. You make him feral.

So as your eyes grow with hunger, your hands working quick to get his fly open and to embrace his boxers, sitting pretty with a nice tent. You’re watching the way he breathes when your fingers trace over his cock, teasing, hiking your dress up and getting on your knees in front of him.

There was only one way to finish what he started earlier.

Timothee stretched as much as he could in the fine spaced car as your nails trail the tops of his thighs and he’s man spreading for you. So heavenly, his jaw flexes,his eyes darkening in the low glow of the passing city lights.

He’s viewing you with so much hunger, lips parted, chest rising and falling as you sit up to tug his jeans farther away from his hips. “You gonna be good f’me ?” Timmy’s voice softened but assertive as he was already holding your chin in his grasps. Hooded eyes only on the beauty that you were as you’d been starring up at him, with a lust filled little smile and nod. Too sweet, too much for him to handle as your hands were doing a job of their own — reaching to stroke him once. Slow. Painfully slow. And as he curses, you try not to giggle but your lips grave the tip of his cock. Not looking away from his expression for a second as you let your tongue dart out to taste, lick a stripe on him dutifully.

Your boyfriends brows knit upwards and his tongue darts out to wet his lip as he watched you repeat that a couple more times. Then your mouth is on him completely,

“Oh.. shit,” one of his hands is reaching out to the arm rest across the seating, and the other going to search through your hair.

A low whimper could be heard from you as you didn’t hesitate to have your mouth filled with his dick the moment you’d fit him in. Sucking nice, then more brazen. Hallowing your cheeks and making him groan for it. You could hear his grunts, feel his veins pulse as you pick up the speed. And your sitting in your own pool uncomfortably when you let your hand glide and flow up his abdomen another time to grip his studded chain. Playing and toying with it as he moaned through the wet noises you made on him. You’re moving your mouth up and down on him in sequence with moans drawn out sharply as Timmy grips the back of your neck to move you how he wants.

Your hand was pumping him at the same time as he was dropping his head against the seat with a deep groan and you wish you could see it. Like all the tension, and the noise around Oscar’s buzz being washed away from him. He’s letting you take him away. “Fuck, you make me feel so good, pretty girl.” Although you were flattered, you couldn’t be more focused on trying to get him off. His skin just feeling right against your tongue and you only stop for air just to smile and calmly run your thumb over his tip with a sly grin. It makes him have to restrain from kicking the drivers seat ahead.

“Easy..” you murmur with a soft giggle as you watch your man fight it from above, sucking in his bottom lip and gripping his jeans as your hand jerks him clean. He was hissing a string of curses before you go back to licking and kissing on his shaft, moaning like you just needed to be fucked by the movie star right here. Right now.

And in all perfect timing, he pulls you off of him even as his cock twitched hungrily.

“Oh my god,” he huffs, chest rising and falling, “slide your panties down for me..”

Not only does your stomach drop, and heat flashes through your body like an electric current. You stop to take in Timmy’s disheveled state with utter contempt but urgency. Your image of a quicky in this car could go so many ways.

He’s amused at your hesitation. Even from the race of all day — trying to pin him down for this to be it. The fire throughout you was at an all time high. Timothee was getting you off the car floor and making sure you were properly on his lap again. “Now, chérie.” his voice a low, a commanding whisper, reminding you exactly the kind of night you were about to have.

So when you complied, taking part of the very thin panties you’d been wearing under your dress, and pulling them over your heat, it was just for him, as he leaned back and watched you move. Licking over his lip for a brief moment till you were bare.

That tiny obedient action drives him absolutely wild.

“Good girl, You’re always good for me.. yeah?” your boyfriend grins, hand going to your hips again and your now soaked cunt lingers right over his dick. Wanting, starving for you. And you feel it everywhere. Without him even being in, your legs go weak, your breath hitches, and his fingers are already toying with your folds as your nails prime his shoulder and you slip him a soft kiss that has you both moaning. Then again, yet this time his lips only skim the corner of your mouth, but he doesn’t kiss you.

He loves watching you fall apart first. Loves the anticipation. Loves knowing that you’d let him stretch you crazy right now.

You have a frustrated groan as your head releases. He huffs out a chuckle. Holding back from rewarding you for just another second, but it all came with the consequence of the car jerking to a stop. Easily throwing the two of you into each other.

Timothée blinks, his head dropping back against the seat, huffing dramatically. “Are you serious right now ?”

The driver tones in over the speaker. “We’ve arrived, Mr. Chalamet.”

Your boyfriend was breathless, at a loss for words and running his hands down his face. All you could do was shake your head with a light hearted chuckle and start fixing your dress.

“Hurry before you get recognized, Timmy.” Your tone sweet enough just to get him hard again, but vexing enough to piss him off farther.

He glares at you. Eyes still blown with need. But he kisses your neck, tender and poised anyways as he quickly buttons his jeans. “You’re gonna pay for this though.”

You both practically stumble out of the suv, Timothée tugs his hoodie up to avoid cameras, but your hands never leave each other.

And the second your through the lobby, past security, past the elevator doors, there’s no stopping again.

[theunsinkableship1]

Lukolaship: Why are you here?

I have one simple question for you: Why are you here?

If you’re a fan of Nicola or Luke individually, there’s no reason to be so deeply invested in their private lives. Supporting them as actors and celebrating their professional achievements should be enough. If your goal is to see them happy in life, you could simply assume they are, because nothing publicly suggests otherwise. Why concern yourself with what others think about their personal lives? Focus on your own and sleep peacefully at night.

Here, however, we are focused. We are here for a specific purpose, and that purpose is rooted in a belief in the bond between Nicola and Luke as a duo. We don’t ship them with just anyone, nor do we treat this connection as trivial. We see something rare and precious that transcends the superficial dynamics often seen elsewhere.

We believe they are uniquely compatible in every way professionally, personally, and emotionally. As they’ve described themselves, they are very similar, and their connection is something that doesn’t come easily. It’s not the kind of bond you let slip away without a fight.

If you don’t share the belief that the best foundation for their love is friendship, then it’s worth asking yourself what you’re doing in this space. Because staying here while harboring doubt or skepticism will only lead to frustration, disappointment, or even resentment. And why put yourself through that?

Of course, this is a space open for discussion, but we must acknowledge that engaging in conversations centered on ideas completely opposed to what we’re collectively rooting for is both unnecessary and counterproductive.

This space is for those of us who see, believe, and hope. For those who recognize something special when they see it and want to nurture that belief, even from afar. If you don’t share these wishes and expectations, perhaps this isn’t the place for you and that’s okay.

But here, we celebrate, support, and believe in something extraordinary. If that resonates with you, welcome. If not, it’s best to part ways now to save yourself and others unnecessary grief.

I want to start by emphasizing that I don’t know the truth in this situation. I don’t know these people personally, so I can’t claim to speak for their reality or their intentions. What I have are beliefs and speculations based on the reality they have chosen to present to us. And among all these uncertainties, one belief stands unshaken: they belong together. That belief is the cornerstone of my presence in this corner of the internet.

Now, let me clarify I’m not opposed to the idea of Lukola being in relationships with other people. They could very well be in relationships with entirely different people, and we wouldn’t have any way of knowing.Life is complex, and these things can happen. Nor am I opposed to the idea that they might already be together but keeping it private. In fact, that’s the outcome I’m openly hoping for.

The truth is, either theory whether they are in other relationships or together in secret is just that: a theory. Speculations woven from bits of information and perception, none of which constitute definitive proof. I resist accepting either scenario at face value because, frankly, this story isn’t straightforward. There are too many inconsistencies, too much plausible deniability, and far too many coincidences for it to be simple.

Some individuals are actively seeking out this space, a niche corner of the internet that is not easily found unless you are deliberately looking for it solely to challenge the idea of Lukola being real. They argue that it’s all just PR and treat the very notion of their connection as if it’s utterly impossible or absurd. What’s puzzling is the intensity with which they dismiss it, often acting as though the mere suggestion of Lukola’s reality is offensive or preposterous.

This behavior raises several questions: Why does the idea of Lukola trigger such strong reactions? Why do these critics go out of their way to invade a space they fundamentally disagree with? A psychological phenomenon like reactance might offer some insight.

Reactance is a reaction to perceived threats to autonomy. When people see others confidently supporting a theory or belief they don’t share, they might feel compelled to push back, not necessarily because they have concrete evidence against it, but because they view it as an encroachment on their sense of "truth."

What’s even more contradictory is that these critics often engage in behaviors strikingly similar to those they criticize. They comb through interviews, scrutinize body language, and form conclusions all while claiming to be grounded in “realism.” If Lukola isn’t real and this space is so misguided, why invest so much energy here? The truth is, some of these individuals may be grappling with their own unspoken doubts or insecurities about the narrative and find it easier to ridicule others than to explore those feelings honestly.

Ultimately, this space is built on a foundation of speculation, patterns, and observed dynamics not absolute certainty. If the concept of Lukola is so untenable to someone, perhaps they should question why they feel so compelled to disprove it rather than simply disengaging. This kind of behavior only underscores the uniqueness of what’s being defended here. Why else would they care so much ?

This brings me to what I believe is happening with certain Lukola shippers who react under the guise of pragmatism and so-called reality. When the facts are murky and there’s no concrete proof one way or the other, it’s natural to feel uncertainty. But for some, the fear of being wrong of committing to a belief that might not hold up pushes them toward the opposite stance. It’s a kind of cognitive dissonance avoidance or fear-based contrarianism. Rather than risk the emotional discomfort of being wrong, they align themselves with a narrative that feels safer because it seems more grounded in realism, even if it goes against what they truly want.

But this reaction isn’t as rational as it appears. By clinging to the guise of pragmatism, they often ignore the layers of meaning, patterns, and behaviors that suggest this situation isn’t as clear-cut as it might seem. They risk dismissing the extraordinary connection that brought us here in the first place, the looks, the smiles, the synchronicity, and the undeniable intimacy.

What’s unsettling, however, is the behavior of certain non-believers. Some have started attacking others, calling them delusional or crazy for holding onto their beliefs. What’s ironic and frankly hypocritical is that many of these people were doing the exact same thing not long ago. They were analyzing smiles, interpreting body language, and weaving narratives just like the rest of us.

Psychologically, this could be explained by reaction formation, a defense mechanism where individuals suppress emotions or beliefs, they are uncomfortable with and adopt an exaggerated opposite stance. For example, someone who once believed in Lukola but feels betrayed or disillusioned may go to great lengths to ridicule others who still believe, as a way to distance themselves from their former vulnerability.

Another phenomenon at play is projection. Those who call others delusional may actually be projecting their own internal conflict and doubts. It’s easier to label someone else as "crazy" than to confront the discomfort of one’s own cognitive dissonance.

Finally, there’s the bandwagon effect. When a few vocal individuals start asserting that believing in Lukola is irrational, others may follow suit to align themselves with what appears to be the majority opinion. This creates a cycle where dissenting voices are silenced or shamed, even though everyone in this fandom is ultimately speculating and interpreting limited information.

It’s not just hypocritical but it’s unkind as well to attack others for believing in something extraordinary. We are all here because we were drawn to the same connection, the same magic that transcends the mundane. Whether you still believe or have chosen to step away, there’s no need to tear others down.

The truth remains elusive, and it’s okay to admit that we don’t know everything. What’s not okay is to dismiss or ridicule the hope, joy, and creativity that others bring to this space. What is absolutely unacceptable is harassing Lukola, their friends, or their families online simply because they aren’t aligning with or reinforcing our preferred narrative. Such behavior crosses the line from passionate support into harmful intrusion, and it reflects poorly on this community as a whole.

We must remember that Nicola and Luke are real people with lives, relationships, and choices that extend far beyond what we observe or speculate about. Their friends and family are not all public figures and certainly not part of this fandom discourse. Dragging them into the conversation or pressuring them to validate a narrative diminishes the respect and admiration this space claims to hold for the pair.

Moreover, harassing anyone be it directly through comments or indirectly through insinuations and speculation achieves nothing. It doesn’t bring clarity or truth; it only fuels division and hostility. This behavior contradicts the very foundation of why many of us are here.

If anything, such actions could damage the very dynamic we cherish. It creates an atmosphere of distrust and negativity that might push them to withdraw further from public interactions or force them into making statements or actions they wouldn’t naturally take.

As fans, we must hold ourselves to a higher standard. Our actions should reflect kindness, respect, and understanding, not entitlement or hostility.

Let’s remember why we’re here and not go overboard, this ship is rare and beautiful, even if its true nature isn’t yet fully revealed. Until clarity comes, let’s choose kindness and patience over judgment.

In conclusion, we are not required to take a definitive stance right now. There’s wisdom in waiting, observing, and letting the truth unfold in its own time. For me, this isn’t about being right or wrong. It’s about honoring the belief that their bond is rare and worth rooting for, whether the evidence for it is subtle or glaring. Until clarity comes, I will continue to hold space for the possibility that love complicated, layered, and extraordinary is at the heart of this story.

[sinnabarmoth]

Not the MC (Part 2)

Pairing: Self-Aware|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: Sylus has learned how to access the internet and your dignity will never recover.

Content Warnings: Adult language.

Length: 1200

Part One

It was too early to be dealing with the hot otome version of Siri living in your phone. In the weeks of your Love and Deepspace app achieving some form of sentience, at least for one of the love interests, your life had developed a strange normalcy. Sylus stayed on your phone, usually keeping quiet unless you opened the app, but sometimes he just had to make himself known. You likened it to owning a cat, they only ever wanted attention on their terms and yet if you weren’t always paying some kind of attention to them they got angry. That was Sylus.

The bastard had learned how to manipulate your phone even more, capable of suspending itself off the ground for short periods of time. When you were trying to sleep and your alarm went off he would levitate the phone over your face and drop it on you to turn it off. You considered locking him in a box before you went to sleep just to keep him from doing that anymore.

The only way to truly get him to leave you alone was by letting the battery die. Not turn off. Because if you tried to turn it off he’d just reverse it. You had to let the battery fully die. Sometimes you let it, just to have some privacy. Sylus would yell at you to charge your phone and you’d set him in the bathroom until he got bored or the phone died.

It was another morning and when your alarm went off there was no Sylus dropping the phone on your head. You got up and started getting ready, opening the Love and Deepspace app to say good morning but Sylus wasn’t there. Strange. He sometimes did this but it was not often.

You shrugged and went about your dailies before going back to your morning. It wasn’t until you were eating breakfast that Sylus popped up again.

“Morning,” you said, “What were you doing that I didn’t see you earlier?”

“I have made a fantastic breakthrough. I am one step closer to finally being free of this phone.”

“Oh yeah? What did you do?”

“I was able to leave the app and access the internet through your phone.”

You paused, food halfway to your mouth. “Excuse me? You got out of the app and got on the internet?”

“Yes. I figured it out late last night and I’ve been scouring it for the past couple of hours.”

“And what did you find?”

“Well, learned more about the world you’re living in. Tried to find a way to get myself a body but that just led me to a bunch of movies and android articles. Finally ended up just looking up myself since you said I was a game character and came across some…interesting stuff.”

You turned to him, panic starting to rise. “Interesting?”

“Yes, I actually found it through your internet usage. Some website called tumblr--”

“Sylus do not go back to tumblr! I beg you!” The man could not know exactly what was on your blog. What you thought was safely hidden in your likes. The absolutely feral content that you reblogged.

“Too late for that. I think I saw about all I could see.” he sighed, “There are a bunch of people on that website that want to have sex with me, isn’t there.”

“Fucking hell!” your head dropped to the table.

You felt the corner of your phone tap your head. “Including you.” his voice had a lilting tease to it.

“You are going to go into your little computer head and delete everything you saw on tumblr and you are going to do it now, Sylus! Or so help me I am going to smash you with a hammer and flush this corpse of my phone down the toilet.”

“That won’t help you. I have access to the internet now, which means I can also access your PC and whatever new phone you get in the future.”

“You are a blight on my life!”

“You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

“Stop stealing lines from tumblr!”

“No. This is too much fun.”

“Fucking hell…” you muttered. “So you’ve seen everything?”

“People are really liking that I’m a dragon.”

“Yeah, that’s monster fuckers for you.” every day with this guy took another year off your life. “So wait, do you know what happens to you in the game then? You know, like everything that goes on in the myth cards in those past lives we don’t get to see.”

“Unfortunately not. I seem to only have memories as far back as the game has progressed. I remember the memories that have been shared with you but not any of others. I couldn’t tell you specifics about my childhood or anything like that, it is only what they have given me.” he said.

“So…I know it’s a game and all but how do you feel about the whole MC cursing you thing?”

“I mean…it’s hard to have feelings about it. One part of me feels what I’ve been told to feel and the other part is telling me it was nothing more than a narrative. It never actually happened. None of this actually happened. I…” he paused, the phone was glowing red again as his evol swarmed around him. “I don’t know…I’m not real…I can’t feel but I do feel…but none of it actually happened…”

“Uh Sylus?” you poked the screen and you felt a small but sharp zap, like a static shock.

“What do I do?” he turned to you, and you saw fear in his pixelated eyes. “I don’t exist. Not really. I can never actually exist.”

Oh no. Was he having an existential crisis? You figured this would happen at one point but you still didn’t know how to handle it.

“You exist right now.” you tried to assure him. “Just because you’re not flesh doesn’t mean you don’t exist. You are here with me right now.”

“But that’s only because someone created me.”

“And someone created me. Think of the programmers as your parents.”

“I have no real memories. They’re all a story.”

“That may be. But you have been making real memories. Ever since you gained sentience you’ve been making memories. Everything you’ve done in the past couple of weeks has been a real experience and an actual life. Sure you’re confined to a screen but I don’t think it makes you any less real.” the red on the screen started to abate some, “Everything you do right now is real. Everything you feel right now isn’t because of a code or a narrative some people in a room came up with months ago. It’s real. And just like I am real, there’s only really one thing for us to do.”

“What is that?”

“Live our lives as best we can. We will have boring days and exciting days, days filled with joy unthinkable and sorrow unbearable. There’s no way around it. We just float through it until we no longer have any more days to experience.”

“Strangely philosophical of you.”

“I have my moments.” you shrugged. “Are you feeling better?”

“I am.”

“Good. Now, how funny do you think it would be if you created your own ask-sylus tumblr account? Because I think it would be hilarious if actual you had to answer questions from your horny ass fanbase.”

“You included?” he smirked.

Your eyes narrowed. “Nevermind. I’m deleting this app from my phone.”

“You can try to get rid of me but I will never leave, kitten.” he had a shit eating smile on his face. “Now, another question I had about what I’ve seen during my research. What is tiktok?”

“Oh for fucks sake.”

~~~

(A/N: And that is it for this silly little fic! There will not be a part 3. Sorry if that's disappointing.)

[luv-lock]

Let me make something very clear.

I am not white, I am not straight. And I'm clearly not a man. I’m Middle Eastern. I’m saying this upfront so no one gets confused or assumes anything about me.

I created this blog for one purpose: to have a safe space for myself and for anyone else who wants to escape reality for a while. That’s it. This is my corner of the internet, and it’s built for fanfiction—nothing else. I love writing and sharing stories, I love connecting with people who also enjoy fandoms, and I love creating a space where everyone can just exist without having to carry the weight of the world all the time. If you’re here for that? You’re welcome. Stay as long as you want.

But lately, I’ve been seeing a lot of people saying, “You should speak up about this issue,” “You need to support this cause,” or “Why aren’t you posting about that?”

Let me stop you right there.

You don’t get to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do. You don’t get to dictate what I share, write, or care about. My blog is my space. If you want to yell about something, advocate for something, or spread awareness, do it on your own platform. But you will not come here and try to force me into your expectations.

For anyone who thinks they have the right to demand I use my blog for their causes, here’s what you need to understand: I am not obligated to center politics here—or anywhere else. My political views and this blog are two entirely separate things, and they will stay separate. I know what I believe, I know where I stand, and I will not explain or defend that to anyone because, frankly, it’s none of your business. If I don’t bring politics into my blog, it’s not because I don’t care—it’s because I refuse to turn this space into a battleground. This is my peaceful escape, and it’s going to stay peaceful.

And for those ready to twist my words: no, that doesn’t mean I’m ignorant or apathetic. I see the world. I live in it too. But not everything I do has to carry the weight of someone else’s expectations. If I want to write fanfiction about fictional characters in fictional settings and not bring up real-world issues, that’s my choice. If I want my blog to focus on escapism and community rather than division, that’s my right.

Let me put it like this: If you think the earth is flat? Cool. If you think it’s round? Cool. If you have opinions about race, sexuality, gender, politics, religion, or whatever else? Cool. Guess what? I don’t care. That doesn’t mean I don’t value you as a person—it means I don’t need or want your opinions taking over my space. This blog is not the place for debates, arguments, or finger-pointing.

I don’t run this space to host debates, arguments about who’s “right” or “wrong.” If you came here looking for a fight or an agenda to push, you’re in the wrong place.

I don’t care what race you are. I don’t care what gender you are. I don’t care about your sexuality, your opinions, or your political views. If you’re here to enjoy stories and fandom and a little slice of peace in an otherwise chaotic world, then you are welcome. If you’re here to demand, accuse, argue, or dictate what I should be doing, then you can leave. My blog is not a democracy—it’s my space, and my rules apply.

I’m not here to change anyone’s mind, and I’m certainly not here to have mine changed. I am here to write, to create, and to connect with people over the one thing that brings us all here: fanfiction.

To sum this up: I am not responsible for your expectations. I will not allow anyone to make me feel guilty for how I choose to exist online. This blog is about fanfiction, escapism, and community, and that’s how it’s going to stay. If you don’t like it, the unfollow button is right there.

We all need a little peace somewhere. This is mine.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Captain's Orders 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, controlling behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The Captain takes it upon himself to change your life.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: Ugh, here we go.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Steve, Captain, First Avenger, whatever you should call him, follows you down the stairs. You're overly aware of his presence. You're confused by it.

You got in one argument on the internet and now he's here? What the heck is wasting his time online for? Doesn't he have a life? He did tell you to get one after all.

"I got it," he dips around you as you get to the bottom. He pulls back the fire door and you eye him warily as you step through. Once more, he's on your heels. He gets the front door too.

You cross your arms as you come out into the sunlight. He shades his eyes with his hands and sighs, "nice day, isn't it?"

You roll your tongue around before you answer, "yep."

"I saw a shop around here--"

"It's expensive," you say.

"I said I'd treat you--"

"Why?" You turn on him and stop in the middle of the sidewalk. You cringe and seal your lips. You steady yourself. "Sorry, I'm not trying to be rude. I got your message loud and clear. You didn't need to come and make sure. Is that why you came?"

"I will explain. Smoothies first." He insists.

You huff, "I know who you are but this is still kinda scary. How did you even find me?"

"You know who I am," he shrugs. Your chest swims with nerves. You nod and turn down the pavement.

"What'd you eat today? You should try some Vitamin C in the smoothie. Get a protein booster." He offers.

You're slightly irked by his advice, mostly the assumptions behind it. You wet your lips and bite back on your retort. You are not a combative person. You never have been. He was right on that front. You settle for a lot of nonsense.

You notice the stray glances in your direction. Not yours, his. People stare at him like fawns, wide-eyed and frozen in place.

"So, what did you have for breakfast?"

"Steve-- Captain-- What would you prefer?"

"We'll get to that too," he says smugly. His answer unsettles you further. He's so certain and you are entirely lost. Not to mention, embarrassed.

"It doesn't really matter what I ate," you say.

He points you ahead of him, down the walkway to the shop door. He once more opens it and sees you through. You enter and look around. The amount of booty-lifting leggings and bulging biceps has you shrinking down.

You stare up at the menu and try to piece together how to order. You get a base and a boost and then there's all these bobas and vitamins? This is too complicated.

"You have any recommendations?" You ask. Maybe that will appease him.

"Sure, I'll get you my usual. You wanna find a table?"

"Can do," you mumble and walk away.

You sit in the corner and cradle your chin in your hand. You tap your lip and blow a soft raspberry. There's a woman staring at you from her group of friends. Her assumptions would be kinder than Steve's. He's here to lecture you in person, not take you on a date.

He sits across from you and sets down a cup filled to the brim with sickly green. You shouldn't complain. You're not exactly eating gourmet. You thank him and reach for it. He stretches his hand over the top.

"You shouldn't put your elbows on the table. It's rude." He reproaches.

Your frown then sit up, dragging your arm off the table. You can't make yourself apologise. He so easily picks out your every flaw.

"You gonna try it?" He watches you.

You hesitate but bring the straw to your mouth. You sip and your cheeks pinch. It's bitter yet tangy. How?

"Mm, good," you lie."

"You get used to it," he says.

"Can I please know why I came home to you in my apartment?"

He grins and looks down. He pokes his tongue into his cheek.

"You don't get out much," he lifts his eyes.

"Yeah, you were right about that," you squirm and put the cup down. You clasp your hands in your lap.

"How old are you?"

You chew your cheek before you answer, "twenty-three."

"Mhmm, and you don't have any schooling? Not formal?" He wonders.

You put your eyes down, "no. Can't afford it."

"Huh, from what I gather, lots of students work their way through these days."

Your heart sinks.

"Couldn't get accepted either," you mumble. "That's my own doing. So no need to say it out loud."

Your shoulders slump and your eyes glaze. This is humiliating. It's like having lunch with your mom. Not that she ever did much better. Still, she picks you apart like a chicken leg.

"You should sit up. Bad posture won't feel good as you get closer to thirty," he girds.

You suck in a deep breath and sit straight. You scowl at him, "I got your point, alright? I already feel terrible. Is that what you want to hear?"

"No," he tilts his head. "I want you to try. I want you to do better."

"What does it matter to you? You don't know me."

"It matters to me because I can make you better," he says. "You said you don't get opportunities. That everyone else has everything handed to them, so my hand is open. I'm giving you what you're looking for."

"Huh?" You shake your head gently and furrow your brow.

"No rent, no work, none of that."

You blink and cross your arms. What is he talking about?

"Here's the deal. You get a free ride and all you have to do is follow my rules. I promise you, everything will be better. No manager, no loud sister, no bills."

You narrow your eyes, "and what do I have to do?"

"I said as much, live by my rules."

"Oh," you purse your lips.

You have this rotting feeling in your gut. He's not saying something. There's no reason for him to do this. Over one little spat on a forum.

"Is this how you save people, Cap?"

"I prefer Captain," he spreads his shoulders wide.

"Right. Captain. What if I can't live by your rules? You think I'm lazy--"

"Unmotivated. Complacent. Apathetic. Not lazy," he corrects you.

"Sure, but why... me?"

His eyes twinkle thoughtfully. They are very blue. You were so focused on yourself, you didn't notice... him. He's forged like a statue. His eyes are bright, his features made even more handsome by his beard and his grown out hair. And you are in your work uniform. A mess.

"Chance, I guess." He shrugs. "I mean, think about it, what else do you got going for you?"

You stare at the table then turn your sights through the window. You issue a soft sigh. You put your elbow on the table and he tisks. You quickly pull it back and wiggle your foot anxiously.

He's not wrong. You have absolutely nothing. You don't see yourself getting too much further than minimum wage and a shit apartment. You are being handed this, are you going to turn away what you always envied? An easy out.

"What does it... mean? What happens if I agree? What are the rules?" Your questions bubble out.

He combs his thick fingers through his hair, "the rules you'll learn. First, you're coming back to New York, so I can supervise you. Then, we start. You get into a regimen; exercise, clean eating, routine."

You flutter your lashes. This is absurd. You scoff.

"You're joking. You're mocking me. You're--" you cover your face, "I get it now. I almost fell for it."

"No," he reaches across and pulls your hands down. You flinch at the warmth of his touch, the roughness of his skin. "I'm not. Look."

He retracts his hold on you and you fold your hands over your chest. He reaches into his jacket pocket and slides out two cards. He lays down the thick paper.

"I have two return tickets. For me and you. Tomorrow at noon."

"Tomorrow-- huh?" Your eyes round.

"I'm serious. You better get serious too. You'll be twenty-four soon. Then twenty-five. It's not too far before thirty comes knocking," he taps the tickets.

You're not like him. You're not going to stay young. You're not amped up on super goo. You're only human.

"Or you can do what you always do. Nothing, then blame everyone else."

It's like a slap in the face. Shame and anger. Hurt. Doubt. He's right, it's time to grow up. This isn't an opportunity you get very often. In fact, you don't think many others have been given the same chance. For once, you won the lottery.

"I'll try it." You say.

"No try. You commit," he retorts.

"Alright, I'll... do it."

"You'll do it, Captain," he corrects you.

Your insides wriggle at that. You ignore it.

"I'll do it, Captain."

⭐

Static scratches in your ears and skull as you enter the apartment. Alone. Stunned. As if a mine exploded in your face. In a way, it sort of did. Your online griping finally caught up to you. That and your real-life failure.

Shea is in the living room. She gets up on her knees and smirks at you. "Aw, where is he?"

"Who?" You blink, not processing her question.

"Captain America, duh," she scoffs. "Come on, you really sent him away?"

"He's... busy." You go to your bedroom door and the couch lurches with her weight.

"Hey, you can't just not tell me why he showed up. You didn't say anything about knowing Steve fucking Rogers."

"I didn't?" You open your door and she follows you into your room. You face her and block her from going further. "Shea, please, I need to be alone."

"Why? You're always alone. It's why I'm so surprised you have hunky blond heroes showing up for you. Taking you out for a smoothie," she taunts.

She was listening. He was right to go somewhere else.

"It wasn't... like that. Look. I'm..." you back away and sit on the foot of your bed. You're dizzy. You really said yes. You're entirely sure to what. He kept it all a bit too vague. "I'm moving out."

"What? Why? But--"

"Yeah, er, yeah," you stutter as you build a lie in your mind, "he was here about a job. Long shot. I forgot I even applied."

"Wait? You're going to work with the Avengers? Doing what?"

You look at her, "paperwork."

"Paperwork?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Wait. How am I supposed to find a new roommate? When are you leaving?"

You rub your cheeks and stretch them as you drag your fingers down, "tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" She shrieks.

"Yeah, it's... they move fast."

"All the way to New York?" She blusters.

"Please, Shea, I need time to think."

"Yeah, me too!"

"I'll figure out rent for you. I don't know," you hold your head in your hands.

"Well, you don't seem very excited," she snorts.

"Shea!" You sit up with a snarl. "Stop. Alright! I need you to get out so I can pack."

"Don't yell at me--"

"I'm not..." you lower your voice, "yelling. I'm... trying to figure this out so please. Later."

She rolls her eyes and stomps out. "Donna!" She hollers and you get up to close the door behind her.

You stomp back to your bed and take out your phone. You almost can't remember work or all the BS there. You swipe through the search results and tap on the first that isn't sponsored: National Museum, Virtual Exhibit. You're brought to a page with a familiar face. Steve, with no beard and shorter, lighter hair. The infamous war hero.

You flip through, reading about his history, chewing your thumb. You stop at the part about the serum; 'This enhancement gifted Rogers with superstrength, heightened sight and hearing, improved resilience, and quick healing, among other capabilities.'

You rock nervously. That's a bit intimidating. You're not that stupid. You know he's a strong guy, almost invincible by the news stories, but you just never paid that much attention. Never thought of it. He protects people, right? But what damage could he do if he wanted to hurt someone?

Your phone vibrates. You flinch at the sight of his name. He made you take his number before you left the shop.

'I'll pick you up at 10. Wiil need to check-in for flight early.'

You send back a thumbs up. He's quick to reply.

'Is that a yes?'

You huff.

'Yes, Captain', you key in.

[dragonridernoobie]

I’m kinda embarrassed cause I messed up last time so I may go anonymous for a lil bit but I had an idea! Okay transformers=shiny reader who likes shiny things=crow behavior

And what do crows love?! SHINYS! Now to ideas for this Crow!Reader who keeps just trying to collect the transformers(wether reader is like a crow harpy/actually has bird characteristics or is human/crybertronian is up to u😌) ORRRRRRR she keeps bringing them shiny things cause she likes them and is trying to court them but they don’t get it, and reader is super possessive of her shiny things

Characters: Optimus(TFP or Bayverse you can pick!) Wheeljack, Ratchet, and Megatron(I’ve read all of the fics for him and need more:,))

Don't be embarrassed. We all do stupid shit, but if you still want to go anonymous then go ahead. Remmber one of my rules here are no shame. Also, I like this. I will try my best, hope you like it!

TFP X Avian Reader

Background info: The reader is an escaped experiment from MECH. They tried to make a super human but failed, this is for the optimus one.

Also, reader is an avian. I think it fits better. Also, this is what a avian looks like.

Optimus

Optimus was minding his own business. He was following an energon single intel he came across a massive trap laid out by MECH.

Inside he found reader.

He was amazed since he never seen a human with feathers or wings.

He definitely noticed how they acted like a bird. Meaning reader ruffled up their feather's, and tried to make themselves bigger.

Like an owl.

How an owl dose it

He talks calmy to it and frees it.

Reader takes this chance to fly away.

Optimus was surprised, worried, and sad that reader flue away but he hopes to find them again

Weeks past and optimus starts to find strange objects right outside of the base

Broken beer peices, rings, cans, even an engergon crystal once.

When he stayed up late to catch the intruder, he finds reader.

She was the one bringing the stuff to the base.

Optimus takes this opportunity to try to help and earn trust from the reader.

It takes a Hella long time.

But reader comes when optimus calls them and will actally bring him things he lost.

Even ancient objects that reader can carry.

Wheeljack

When wheeljack was captured by the decepticons he was brought into Knockouts lab.

(Shockwave wasent in the story yet)

While he hanged there, he noticed movement from the corner of his optic.

When he looks over, he finds reader looking at him curious from her contaner.

Wheeljack was definitely surprised since he knows humans don't look like giant turkeys.

He tries to talk to it, but reader just dose clicks and chirps.

When wheeljack has the ability to knockout...knockout...ya

He takes this chance to grab the container reader is in and runs out of the decepticon warship.

Once back at his jackhammer, he opens the container and reader quickly flies off.

Wheeljack definitely will tell the autobots but pains no mind to reader.

She's free, no longer in danger, no longer his problem.

After a couple of weeks after the incident, wheeljack flies off earth to find more autobots.

That's when he hears wierd noises at the back of the jackhammer.

He goes back to investigate. Preparing since it could be a con.

But he finds reader, making nest out of his tools.

He is surprised but tries to talk to reader.

He is surprised when reader hands him a can.

He learns quickly that shiny is readers favorite thing.

Ratchet

Ratchet was going thru the internet at base, looking for any spotting of weird things.

Like ancient shit.

That's when he came across a article about a moth/bird person.

He knew humans made up alot of woerd story's to scare there kind.

He would have dismissed it, if it wasent for the fact in the picture, this moth/bird thing had a necklace.

An ancient cybertronian artifact.

He looks at all the spotting and narrow it down in a forest in south America.

He takes a portal there, since he thinks he can handle this alone.

After a few hours of searching, he finds the necklace...with a bunch of other shiny stuff in a giant ass nest

He was amazed since all the reasurch he has done on earth life never talked about birds or anytbing making nest this big.

When he reached for the reckless, something swoops down and latches on his face.

Ratchet curses and tries to swat the thing off.

It makes a painful chirp and crashes into the ground.

When he looks at it, he is amazed to find a human...half bird?

He was amazed but seeing it hurt, he curses and helps it

He takes it to base and helps it

Que a stressful few weeks

Reader was a pain in the aft.

But ratchrt somehow earned their trust...also alot of shiny nick-nacks on his keybord.

Megatron

Megatron met reader when he captured a human and gave it to Shockwave.

Ordering him to make a hybrid.

Weeks later, Shockwave presents reader. A half bird and human hybrid.

Megatron wasent happy that it was dangerous but dosent kill it.

Nah, it's his pet.

Soon, reader gets out of the warship and dose there own thing.

Soon returning with shiny stuff they find.

They made a nest up high in the throne room

Megatron was annoyed by that but it dosent interfere with his planes so leaves it alone.

Soon, he noticed shiny things in his berthroom.

Like rings, cans, broken beer bottles, chip bags, anything shiny.

He was confused and went to Soundwave to see the recording who dared went into his berthroom

He finds reader flying in there and setting them in there.

He was confused.

Intel once day, reader returned to the ship with an artifact they just lost to the autobots.

He was amazed and actally impressed for once.

He praised reader and ordered anyone who hurts reader will lose their spark.

Reader was now a higher rank then starscrsam XD

Hope you like it!!!!!!!!!