#i will be tuning in to the super bowl

[rememberdamage]

DR becoming the face of an over-sponsored, faux-American, cheesy-ass team called V-CARB that says things like “working weekends always pure vibes” and is unveiling their car at the Super Bowl is not what we needed, but it’s what we deserve

[shalomniscient]

i desperately need angry sex with rahu or zoya 😞

anon you will be very pleased to know that one hate sex with zoya is currently in the kitchen 🫡🫡🫡 stay tuned 😉😉😉

[everydaydg]

Hey lets hey lets hey lets bowl ʰᵉʸ

cmo- cmon

g-g-great shot

oh my god... game set

[nobittermelon]

Now this is wild 😭

[constanze-1782]

Fly, Eagles....FLY

[ilovecatilinclark]

Sweetheart

Diana Taurasi x Reader

Based of this request!

Hope you guys like this!

You were one of the players for the Phoenix mercury, you would always bake or make a small treat for the team. Often before games and practice till one day you decided to invite the team to your house. As a way to celebrate the home win and to spend some time to watch a movie. As everyone agreed you quickly ran to the grocery store and bought many items to create the dinner you planned. As you came back home you started organizing the ingredients till you hear a knock.

It was BG and Rebecca as you let them in you continue preparing the meal. Till more of your teammates come in, as you start cooking you were planning to cook some ribs and some extra sides. As you soon here a commotion in your living room you try to tune it out. But as hard as you try you hear a familiar voice from Natasha Cloud saying "Nah D you really gonna help her you for real down bad" she said loudly. As they were chuckling you decided to block it out. As Diana soon walks over to the kitchen.

As you were starting on the mashed potatoes you felt some hands on your shoulder. "Need some help dear" she said slyly, you couldn't help but blush from Diana. As you gathered your composure you quickly replied "Uh no I'm fine" you said back to her trying to not show you face to her. "I can tell you need help babe" she said chuckling as she watches you struggling trying to cut the potatoes.

As you finally sighed, you replied "Maybe I need some help, can you help me cut these potatoes darling" you flirted back felling her warm up a bit as she takes the knife from you and starts cutting. As she finishes she washes her hand and holds your waist to move you a bit over to grab the paper towel you couldn't help but blush from the act. As she finishes she ask you what else she could do you reply but helping you start on the cookies. Before you grab the ingredients you finish with your sauce for the ribs you quickly wash your hands and going to start looking ingredients.

As you grab the items she preheats the oven, soon you start pouring the ingredients for the cookie as you get some of the flour on your nose. As she soon laughs and grabs you chin soon wiping the flour off your nose while she starts wiping it some of your team walks in. About to check how you were doing as they catch you guys being super close. Until BG decides to interrupt "YOO IS THE FOOD DONE IT SMELLS HELLA GOOD" as you quickly turn around distancing yourself from Diana. "Oh shit sorry to ruin your couple moment" she says as she smiles as you blush nervously from her comment.

As you and her continue to make the cookie you feel a awkward tension trying to not talk about what had just happened. As soon as you guys finish she starts setting up the table. Soon later as you were serving you soon realize the only open seat was next to Diana. As you awkwardly sit next to her you hear her whisper in your ear. "The food is good but do you know what would be better. "what" you replied back "you and I being together" as you tried to hide your blushing face you feel her hand soon interlacing her hand with yours under the table. Soon after dinner everyone agreed and decided on a movie while everyone was in the living room you were in the kitchen preparing some popcorn.

While as Diana was in the kitchen she knew she would not be able to hear the end of it from her teammates with her helping you. Especially her and you when you guys were making cookies and you got flour on your nose. As you soon came in the whole team stopped teasing her and started getting ready for the movie as you handed the bowl. As you were laying on the couch she took a seat next to you. As it started becoming a bit more cold and the rest of the team took your blanket. As you were shivering a bit, you felt her arms wrap around you and bring you closer to her. Keeping you warm as you guys were cuddling your teammates started taking photos of you.

As the movie ended and you went to wash the dishes while playing a little bit of games with your teammates. The night started getting dark and more of your teammates started leaving. As Diana was the last one you were about to say goodbye until she grabbed your face and kissed you. "call me later sweetheart goodnight" she said as she winked walking to her car.

AN: Also sorry if there is not enough flirting

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Can i request a super fluffy and sweet hotch fic where reader is baking and hotch is sittinh there on the counter admiring his wife, like theres music and r is just glowing and aaron is thinking ‘oh im so lucky to have her’ and ughhh im craving sweetness pls give me fluff thank you

fem wife!plus size reader, wc: 515.

a/n: i've been craving some sweetness too, so this fluff was for me and you 😭 thank you for your request!

It's so incredibly late that when Aaron enters your shared apartment with the expectation of you sleeping, all he sees is the way you jump and almost knock over your mixing bowl when he calls out your name from the dark.

“Holy shit!” You swear, your hand — which was covered in flour — slapped itself over your racing heart. “Jesus, Aaron, you scared me.” You sighed in relief.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” You watched as he set his briefcase and go-bag down on the couch. Aaron looked exhausted; his hair was air whipped and disheveled, there were slight darkening bags under his eyes, and those frown lines from all that scowling and frowning he does. Your boyfriend was here, and he was home, safe and sound.

You looked at him with a sweet smile as he rounded the counter sluggishly. “Hey, handsome.” You greet him quietly, almost as if it was a secret between the two of you. You throw your arms around his neck loosely while his hands fall lazily on your hips.

“Hi.” His body relaxes under your silk touch, your fingers threading themselves through his cropped hair. “Do you want to talk about it, or do you wanna be home now?” Aaron squeezed your body closer to his at the question. “I wanna be home.”

An intimate silence fell over the both of you before he pulled away slightly, looking at the messy island that was covered in baking ingredients.

“What are you doing?” He inquires in a soft tone. “Oh! Jack has a bake sale tomorrow and I kind of… procrastinated making them. So now, here we are.” You confess with a sheepish smile.

“Do you need any help?”

“No, I’m okay - wait! There’s actually one thing you can help me with.”

“And what’s that?”

“By sitting your cute ass down and telling me about your week.”

He smiles at your wording but relents and allows you to shuffle him out of the kitchen and into one of the bar stools.

He rambles on about his week while you listen and occasionally add your commentary when something peaks your interest. He stares in awe at your multitasking, but also at the fact that you look so serene.

You have a severe case of bed head, and your pajamas are wrinkled, followed by your messy hands and the blotches of flour littered on your clothes. You put Jack above your sleep and felt butterflies flutter in his stomach.

How was he able to find someone like you?

After Haley died, Aaron was convinced that maybe he was just meant to wander the world alone, and watch his son grow up. But then… there was you. Sweet, beautiful, outgoing you.

When he had said something funny in the monotone voice of his you laughed, and the sound rang like twinkling bells were in his ears. It completely overlapped with the soft tunes that were playing from your phone.

It took him a while, but Aaron was glad that he learned how to love again, because you had been waiting for him for a long, long, time.

[paluding]

Owned Restaurant Profit Increase

Two versions to download:

-Double profit: SFS / GD

-Triple profit: SFS / GD

Choose only one version!

We all know how hard it is to maintain a restaurant business in The Sims 2, right? You barely make any money and, if you have some employees to get paid hourly, there's a good chance you'll even end up losing money. Well, once again I've been digging through the files for a while until I've found something to fix this issue. I have to say, this is not the ideal solution at all, but it still makes the business actually profitable, so I thought it might be worth sharing anyways. This tiny mod edits just one single BCON value, and it's super easy to tune to your liking! A lot of technical details, a tutorial on how to tune it, and a big testing research under the cut (bear with me please, I promise it's worth reading).

So the way an unmodded game moves money in a restaurant business goes like this: the moment your waiter puts the dish on the customer table, you get a small percentage of the price of the food deducted. Then, once the customer finishes eating, they pay you the full price of that food (based on how expensive or cheap you set your business). Simple enough, right? Ideally, the best solution would be increasing the price of the food, but no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't find those values anywhere. So what's left on the equation? Yup, that small percentage you get deducted first. I was lucky enough to find that one, so changing it to a negative value means you actually get extra paid first. And that money comes from nowhere, the customer doesn't pay extra, they only pay the price of the actual food. That works for me!

As a quick example, in a new business with 0 stars, if you keep the default price on average, you always gain 28 simoleons for serving a bowl of Mac N Cheese. However, you also get deducted 4 simoleons first, so it's actually 24 simoleons per customer. That's just sad. The Double version of my mod makes it so you get 22 simoleons first, and then the customer pays those 28 simoleons. That's a total of 50 simoleons per customer. More than double the profit, not bad! The Triple version gives you a total of 71, pretty self explanatory. The numbers don’t match exactly with double or triple profits, but I didn’t want to spend that much time finding the exact value to make it exactly double or triple, you know, especially considering there might be other factors that affect your business income. I’m not that good at maths to be honest... orz

So how do you tune this? All you need is SimPe. Open the package, click on the BCON file and edit line number 14, on the Dec box. The default Maxis value was 20. I changed it to -100 to get roughly double the profit, and -200 to get triple profit. If you want to increase the profit even more, make sure you keep it negative when changing the value! Then just click Commit and Save. Done!

One extra note before I continue. The extra money you get with the mod does count for the balance you see on the UI menu for the business on the top right. So if you like to keep track of your income, the mod will take effect on those bars. However, it won’t count for things like the First Simoleon prize thingy. So for now I’m not really sure if this extra money would count for other things such as Lifetime Wants related to gaining money. I haven’t tested it that much.

Okay, now you know almost everything you need to know about this mod. If you want to read some ramblings on how I tested this, keep reading. Otherwise, you’re good to go!

So, let’s talk testing, because that’s something I actually enjoy doing. I built a simple restaurant lot, with about 5 tables available. The conditions were:

-3 Sims from my household to work as host, waiter and chef. No external employees, so I don’t need to keep track of extra salaries to pay.

-Schedule is roughly 15:00 - 22:00.

-New business level 0. Prices were kept at the default average.

-I didn’t use the Basic Sell interaction. If the customer didn’t want to eat at my restaurant, then so be it.

-The chef had 10 points of cooking skill, so I could add any food to the menu. However, I only chose one food to cook to keep the profit numbers as consistent as possible.

For the first case, I chose cooking only Mac N Cheese, a very cheap food that makes almost no money at all. It doesn’t require any cooking skill points. Mac N Cheese gives you 28 simoleons when the Sim pays. -In an unmodded game, you also lose 4 simoleons, so it’s 24 simoleons per customer. After running the business for the set schedule, I got 240 simoleons of profit. Pretty disappointing! If I had employees to pay, I would only have a few simoleons to spare, if any at all. -With my Double version of the mod, you get an extra 22 simoleons, making a total of 50 simoleons per customer. After running the business with the mod in, I got 400 simoleons. Not much, but hey, it’s something.

For the second case, I chose Filet Mignon. This food is pretty fancy, and it requires max cooking skill. Filet Mignon gives you 83 simoleons when the Sim pays. I also noticed the customers take way less time to eat it compared to the Mac N Cheese, so that’s an extra bonus to make the business run faster. -In an unmodded game, you also lose 13, so it’s 70 simoleons per customer. After running the business, I got 630 simoleons of profit. Not bad, but considering you need to max out the cooking skill, it’s almost insulting spending so many hours just to get that… -With my Double version of the mod, you get an extra 65 simoleons, making a total of 148 (!) simoleons per customer. After running the business with the mod in, I got 1036 simoleons. Okay, nooow we’re talking! That's the fancy restaurant status I like to see.

You might be wondering why these numbers are so inconsistent. Well, sometimes my lovely waiter decided to drop the tray on the customers, poor guy. That added to the randomness of how customers decide to enter the restaurant or not, and if the game sits more than one customer on the table or just one of them, if someone gets stuck for a while losing time… all of that can end up making the results a bit inconsistent. That being said, I had better luck when I was running the business without the mod in, yet I still got quite a lot more money with the mod in. I didn’t keep track of the numbers for the Triple version, but as you can probably guess, that one would be even more profitable.

One last case I wanted to test and compare: a completely different type of business, a games and entertainment one using the Bandatron ticket machine. In that scenario, I got 21 simoleons per customer, each hour. So after that schedule of 15:00 - 22:00, I got a total of 789 simoleons! All my sim did during those hours was bartending. That shows how easy it is to run a business with a ticket machine, and the biggest advantage is that you don’t have to pay employees if you don’t need them, and you don’t need any skills at all. Just plop down that machine, put some objects, relax and let the money flow by itself.

So yeah, in conclusion, Eaxis really messed up programming the restaurant businesses, there’s no doubt about it. Hopefully my mod helps balance things out. And if you think it's still too low on the incomes department, you can always tune it to your liking! As far as I know, this should not conflict with anything, but if you run into any issues, let me know and I’ll try my best to fix it asap.

Special thanks to EddySims for their fantastic HQ Icon Pack I used to make the preview pic! <3

[honeysorwell]

a ring and the (Super Bowl's) ring

pairing: Restaurant!AU Melissa Schemmenti x fem!Reader

Super Bowl's prompt by anon + Valentine's Day idea by me.

Synopsis: When the chef and owner of the traditional Italian Restaurant Schemmenti’s Cucina says that she will never get married again, few people really understand and respect her. Y/N is not only one of the people who understands her, but she is also the one who matters the most to Melissa. And the ring she gave the redhead on Valentine’s Day is just a bonus.

Tag list: @janeyseymour @italianaidiota @chloeelou02x (I tagged you all because you are all on my tag list for my other Melissa's fanfic, so since this is also a fanfic for Mel here you are!) (and if you want to be tagged too just let me know.)

Warning (for Melissa mainly): marriage proposal!!!

Words: 2,3k

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1 + Chapter 2

Link on AO3

The inspiration for this is also the fact that: no one writes AUs for Melissa even tho our lady has a lot of potential for AUs thanks to how many interests she genuinely has; the fact that she thought Gary was buying her a replica of a Super Bowl ring; no one writes fanfics about Melissa finding someone who genuinely accepts that she doesn't want to get married at all and is happy with her just like that; and Valentine's Day is just around the corner;

and yes! part two will be posted tomorrow, because I wrote two parts (one where the Eagles win and one where they lose) so just stay tuned for the game hahaha… (I won't be tho, and that's why I'll only post this part two tomorrow.)

Enjoy!

“Chef! Chef!”, the young waiter called loudly as he entered the kitchen looking for the red-haired woman, keeping a smart distance from Melissa when he found her amidst the chaos of the pens in the hot stove where she was browning some onions.

The kitchen that the redhead had dedicated her time, heart, and soul to, and that until seconds ago was vibrating with the nervous energy of the orders in her restaurant but that now stopped completely, was just taken over by the nervousness that transformed the energy there into a pressure cooker ready to explode.

Although she was in her element, Melissa found it strange that her waiter had called her directly, and her restless feeling was, justifiably, mirrored by all her workers. Some dish was wrong? Was the poor waiter there to inform her of a client's complaint?

"Yes, kid?"

“The table reserved for a party of 20 in the center of the restaurant! They’re here and they’re asking for you.”, the waiter, whose name she refuses to remember since they always give up, smiles at her as he explains, so the redhead imagines that no one was exactly asking to talk to her because of a bad thing, “Oh... And the guy with the mustache told you to take off your apron before talking to them.”

It wasn’t common for Melissa Schemmenti (the talented chef and owner of the traditional Italian Restaurant Schemmenti’s Cucina, who delighted the clientele with her dishes every day) to leave the kitchen to greet ordinary customers. Only the most famous, or food critics, or those really kind people who waited until the restaurant closed had the privilege of meeting her, but when she looked out the kitchen window in search of who was sitting at that prominent table in the middle of the restaurant, a sweet smile painted her lips when she saw all those sitting there.

Her family is there.

At least a good part of it.

Her mother, Marie, Mary Camille, Maria Cristina, boy Tony and John Anthony are all looking at her expectantly as she goes out of the kitchen to stand next to Gary. It's rare to see her siblings looking at her with such happiness, and for just a second Melissa wonders if she's forgotten something important.

Looking closer, the redhead notices that even two of her cousins ​​are there. Rocco, with his wife and two children, and Annette with her husband. Wow.

But, some part of the table was empty and the redhead couldn't be more confused to notice that three of her siblings are not there – Seamus, Toni and Kristen Marie – but as she approached the table in question, the thought just slipped from her mind. After all, not even she knew why they were there so maybe it wasn't that important.

"You know you don't have to book a table when you come here, right? Especially when all these parasites are here almost daily.” Greetings and complaints begin to sound throughout the table instigated by her arrival, but the talented chef of Schemmenti’s Cucina just ignores everyone’s words with a smile, placing a loving kiss on her boyfriend’s lips before reprimanding him affectionately, “You just need to show up here and we’ll find a table for you, Gary.”

“I know.”, the man in question says, delighted with the fact that even on a busy Tuesday night for the restaurant, Melissa still looked as beautiful as on her days off, “But I wanted this one today.”

Before the redhead has time to question him why, Gary stands up from their table with a nervous smile, gently tapping the inside pocket of his leather jacket that held a small velvet box, not wanting to draw Melissa’s attention to it after all, he was just checking to see if the precious thing he handpicked himself was still there.

Leaving behind a distraught redhead with her hip propped against the wooden table, Gary made his way to the restaurant's small stage, where musicians played softly in the background. All the customers' eyes turned to him curiously as the man positioned himself under the soft light. And there, Melissa panicked.

Neither of them could say whose heart was beating faster.

"Sorry to interrupt," Gary began speaking into the available microphone with a shaky voice, "I just want to say a few words about the wonderful person who graces not only our stomach but also our sight tonight."

When he looked at Melissa, and although her eyes were already glued to his, the head chef's mind could not be further away.

Her mind was in denial, working hard to remember if that day was their anniversary, or perhaps the day they shared their first kiss, unable to accept the need to realize the trap that was unfolding dramatically in front of her.

The tension in the air was palpable, but with a gentle and loving gesture, Gary asked for Melissa to come closer.

Confused, she looked back at her family, just lost and confused, but the eyes of those who shared her surname shone amidst smiling faces, and there, as she walked carefully toward her boyfriend, her heart raced, not with happiness, but with apprehension.

He wouldn't do this.

He can't.

Right?

“Melissa,” Gary said, taking her hand and finally kneeling down, to Melissa's desperation, “You are the reason I wake up every day with a smile on my face. You bring color to my life and I can't imagine a future without you. I know you told me you don't intend to get married again but I just need to know if you would do me the honor of being my wife?” His words echoed through the space, full of love and hope as a deep silence momentarily settled in, where everyone there awaited the chef's answer.

But Melissa, with her hand being gently caressed by her boyfriend, for the first time in his own restaurant, felt like she was going to vomit.

The desire and expectation in his eyes were palpable, but she had been clear so many times.

She didn't want this. Not again.

She didn't want marriage or the commitments that it entailed.

And he knew it.

She made that clear to Gary again and again. And he knew how painful her divorce had been. The redhead remembered nights when painful memories would eat away at her mind until she shared them with him. How could he have the courage to ignore her feelings so easily? In the midst of her clients? In her restaurant? And invite her family to watch?

But then, only then, she recognized the looks in their eyes.

They knew. Her family knew.

The same ones who had heard her say over and over again how much she didn't want to get married again.

Ever.

The feeling of being disregarded took over her. A weight that made her wish, even if just for a second, that she had burned herself in the kitchen the day before so she could have stayed home instead of going through that.

She was so embarrassed.

Her boyfriend didn't listen to her. Her family didn't listen to her. No one listened to her.

When Melissa opened her mouth to respond, her words failed to come out. She fixed her gaze on Gary's anxious, hopeful smile, trying to find a way to express the turmoil that was forming inside her. But she knew that only one word would be enough.

“No.”, and when she finally said it, her voice cracked.

She knew that her answer had hit him like a crash.

The murmur of the audience grew around them, mixing disapproval and empathy. Gary stood still for a moment, the ring box slipping from his hand as he searched for some light in the eyes of the woman he loved. And Melissa was also on fire, but with pain and guilt for disappointing him.

“I understand,” he finally murmured after a while, forcing a smile that definitely didn’t reach his eyes. “I just wanted you to know how I feel… And maybe you…”

“I understand. But I can’t. I’m so sorry. It’s better if we end it here,” she interrupted, her voice firm, despite the pain.

The thick tears began to slide down his face, and Melissa felt her heart break inside her chest, but she knew there was no going back.

It was necessary, she knew it was. And she also knew she would cry herself to sleep that night.

Looking around the restaurant, feeling the eyes of her customers burning her back as some of them left their tables, overwhelmed by the weight of the scene they had witnessed that night, she wanted to disappear.

But instead, even when she heard her name being called by her entire family, especially her mother whose voice sounded more enthusiastic than all the others, Melissa silently returned to the kitchen. After all, she still had a kitchen to run.

Only after the end of the workday, when everyone had left and the redhead was drinking a worrying amount of wine in the closed kitchen of her restaurant, footsteps were heard by the redhead in the dining room.

Melissa had made it clear to everyone in the restaurant how much she didn't want to see anyone. But maybe her words also didn't mean anything to her employees too.

"Does everything I say just turned meaningless now?" she shouts towards the dining room, but when her eyes find the three people who were missing earlier today, her voice softens even amidst the confusion of alcohol, "How did you all get in here?"

Seamus, Toni, and Kristen Marie are moving too fast for the redhead to see with the amount of alcohol she consumed, and if Melissa were a little more sober she would notice how all three of them are looking at her with a huge amount of sadness. So maybe it was for the best.

“You’re almost cute when you think a few well-done locks can stop a Schemmenti. Imagine three!”, Toni says softly with a sweet smile as she approaches the redhead, gently placing a kiss on the chef’s forehead and looking for a clean, dry glass to fill with water and force her sister to drink.

Irritated by the unsolicited contact, Melissa thinks about greeting her by calling the owner of the brown eyes Antoinette, but oddly enough, the touch of the younger sister caresses not only her temple but also her soul.

“Hey Mel.”, Seamus says, but he doesn’t lean in for a proper greeting. The middle brother of all the women, whose existence was discovered only after everyone was adults just approaches his older sister to confuse her. The man's clumsy approach makes the redhead focus on the tall, blonde figure who is now once again trying to put the hairpins she used to break down the back door of her sister's restaurant back in place. Knowing that the mere sight of Kriste Marie being the one responsible for invading her property would cause enough distraction, Seamus takes both the bottle and the glass of wine away from his older sister while Toni replaces it with water without her noticing. At least not now.

"Kristen Marie.", is said with as much disdain as affection, which makes the blonde one let out a small smile at her older sister before responding with the same intonation:

"Melissa Ann."

The three Schemmentis who have just arrived gently sit down next to the redhead, who strokes the rim of the glass of water in front of her with the tip of her index finger after rejecting it.

"You're late for the shit show, ya know? It was during dinner.”, she says stammeringly but is quickly cut off by her brother.

“I guess we arrived just in time then.”, he says softly before directing a particularly disappointed look at Kristen Marie when he sees that the blonde one has taken the glass that used to belong to her sister and is now drinking the wine left there by her.

“I knew you would say no! We all knew!”, Kristen says angrily, as if ripping off a particularly stuck band-aid on the redhead’s skin, but one that everyone there knew needed to be changed.

“He warned us a month ago, sent a message in a group with all of us and asked us to be here for the proposal.”

“I said it wouldn’t work out, which obviously started a fight with Ma. Antoinette agreed with me and Seamus here said he would let you know.”, Kristin says again, monopolizing everyone’s attention for a few seconds, but as soon as she finishes, Melissa can see out of the corner of her eye that Seamus lowers his head in shame.

“Mom got really furious, she said we were rooting against your happiness.”, Toni says in a soft voice, but the redhead knows better.

She knows that “we” is not really “we”, but it is Seamus. Ma probably told Seamus that he was rooting against her happiness, and that’s probably why he didn’t tell her, and when she realizes it, the head chef gently stretches her right hand toward her brother.

He, in turn, gently kisses her fingers, still in silence.

“As if Kristen wouldn’t love to see you get engaged just to plan which white dress she’ll wear to your wedding.”, Toni tries to make a joke with a nervous smile, but she quickly regrets it when she sees the tear that runs down her older sister’s right cheek.

“What if… if…”

What if no one wants me?

What if no one accepts me on that condition?

What if I’m alone forever?

“No.”, Kristen interrupts Melissa almost like a growl, as if she can understand all the horrible questions that are going through her sister’s head right now, “Eventually they will understand this too. All of them.”

“Promise?”

“We promise.”, is said in unison by all three siblings, and this sound alone is capable of softening the redhead’s mind and heart.

[coimbrabertone]

The State of American Open Wheel Racing in 2025.

This Sunday, on March 2nd, 2025, the NTT Indycar Series will begin. This will be the eighteenth season since reunification in 2008 and it will be the fourteenth season running some version of the Dallara DW12 spec car.

The 2025 season will consist of seventeen races: four street circuits, seven on road courses, and six on ovals. Iowa, however, hosts two races on the same weekend, therefore, it's really five ovals.

Iowa is just under a mile long, Milwaukee is at a mile long, and Gateway is just over a mile long. Nashville is a little on the short side for an intermediate, but I'll count it as such nonetheless. Indianapolis is the only superspeedway on the schedule. More on that a little bit later.

On the face of it, however, this is a pretty good calendar. We have a mix of road courses, street circuits, and ovals, we have some classic Indycar venues like Road America, Milwaukee, Laguna Seca, and Portland back on the schedule after having fallen victim to the split, and we no longer have a month-long gap between Thermal and Long Beach.

Instead, we only have three-week gaps between each of the first four races. Which...well, it's progress at least.

We also have Grand Prix of Arlington scheduled for March 2026, which not only helps fill in the gaps early in the season, but it marks a return to Texas.

I won't pretend that a street race around a stadium parking lot is the most exciting race for Indycar, but Texas is too big a market for Indycar to ignore at Texas Motor Speedway wasn't drawing the crowds.

Maybe partnering with the Cowboys and Rangers to race in Arlington will produce better results.

So that's the positive side to the calendar, let's talk a few more positives:

Indycar has a new broadcast partner in the form of Fox, and while a lot of people have some reservations based on Fox's mediocre NASCAR broadcasts, the signs so far look good. Everyone loves James Hinchcliffe in the booth, Will Buxton has shown passion for Indycar before and he's a name familiar to any disillusioned F1 fans looking for a new motorsport to fall in love with, and Townsend Bell...is also there.

Jokes aside I don't hate Townsend Bell as much as most Indycar fans. I find his glazing of Santino Ferrucci annoying - and just a tad unethical considering he doesn't disclose the fact that he's Santino's agent - and some of his reactions are over the top, but I'd much rather have him around than Fox trying to shoehorn in anybody from their NASCAR coverage.

I'll take Townsend Bell over Clint Bowyer any day of the week.

More importantly, I'd say Fox has brought out the big guns in terms of promoting the series. Indycar got three ads during the Super Bowl, Indycar ads play all the time during NASCAR coverage, and this morning I saw Fox air an Indycar ad in the middle of the morning news, implying that Fox is now airing Indycar ads throughout the day. That's good.

Another good thing is that these ads are about the whole series, not just the Indy 500. That's good - people watch the Indy 500 just fine, now we need them to tune in for the rest of the series.

Another place where Indycar is in a good place is on the competition side. There were some stale moments last year, I won't pretend otherwise, but in the second half, the season came alive:

The first hybrid race at Mid-Ohio? Pato O'Ward snipes the lead from Alex Palou and holds off a charge from the reigning champion to take Arrow McLaren's first on-track win since Iowa 2022.

Iowa? The double-header opens with a thrilling Saturday night race where Scott McLaughlin takes his first oval win, while race two unexpectedly turned into a battle between Will Power and Alex Palou, with Power winning out. Not bad for a doubleheader that Josef Newgarden was expected to dominate.

Toronto? Andretti takes a 1-2, Colton Herta over Kyle Kirkwood, with Herta snapping a winless streak going back to 2022. Meanwhile, it's drama at Penske with McLaughlin and Power making contact.

Gateway? Josef Newgarden wins another short oval race over Scott McLaughlin, sure, but we also got a dose of chaos to stir things up with a weird, botched restart that saw so many cars get damaged that Linus Lundqvist took a shock third-place.

Portland? It was shaping up to be Alex Palou vs. Will Power in the championship at this point and we got to see them battling for the win, with Will Power taking the win, but Alex Palou following him home in second, collecting points and preserving his lead. It looked like the year would turn into Palou's consistency versus Power's speed.

Milwaukee lived up to that promise, with a wonderful race featuring high tyre wear, busy traffic, and numerous drivers coming in and out of contention. Pato O'Ward won the first race, Will Power finished second, but Alex Palou was still in fifth, another good points day, but it wasn't as infallible as Palou's previous performances. Was the pressure getting to Palou and the #10 crew?

Milwaukee race two suggested that maybe yes, with Palou's car running into an issue in the opening laps and getting stuck on pit exit. Just as it looked like disaster for Palou, we saw him rally back to nineteenth while Power, in tenth place, failed to capitalize. Meanwhile, a win for Scott McLaughlin was enough to keep him in contention, but only just.

Alex Palou and Will Power both made the start in Nashville, which was enough to knock Scott out of contention, but it looked like Power would have the pace over Palou. All of that was until Power's race was undone in mere laps when his belts came loose. Power dropped out of contention, while an eleventh was enough to win the championship for Palou.

Power was the only one who could've beat Palou, but that didn't mean that Power was safe in second place, quite the opposite. A win for Colton Herta and a fifth place for Scott McLaughlin was enough to move them into second and third, respectively, knocking Power down to fourth in the standings. Pato finished second at Nashville to finish fifth in the standings.

A Ganassi, an Andretti, two Penskes, and a McLaren.

If 2025 can live up to that promise, then we should have a pretty good season in front of us.

If Fox can bring that good season to new audiences, then maybe the series can have some life breathed into it...and it needs it too, because the bad news is that Indycar has some pretty big problems.

The biggest problem, by far, is that Honda is threatening to leave the series. Honda says the return on investment isn't there and is demanding that Penske either reduces costs tremendously or does something to raise the value of Indycar.

The hybrids are here to stay - and even if they weren't, it's Honda that demanded the hybrids, so taking them out might be the one thing to push Honda out even quicker - and the engines are staying the same, which means costs aren't likely to change.

Side note, but initially, when the hybrids arrived, they were supposed to be paired with a new 2.4L V6 engine, one which Honda is believed to have significantly developed, but between problems for the hybrid unit and Chevy's comparative lack of interest, we kept the 2.2L engines instead.

Honda now runs a 2.4L V6 twin turbo in its Acura ARX-06 GTP car, which I doubt is a coincidence.

Honda spent a lot of money developing a new engine just for the series to drop it and stick with the old engine with a token hybrid unit jammed between the engine and the gearbox. I don't blame Honda for being angry about that.

On the other hand, if Honda leaves, Indycar becomes fully a spec series. Just twenty-seven cars all running a dinosaur Dallara chassis with a spec Ilmor engine - scratch that, if Honda left, Roger Penske would no doubt use that as a justification to reduce the field to twenty-five cars, because, you know, less is more, right? Right?

...No? What do you mean less cars makes for less variety and more boring races? What do you mean that the charter system has no benefit to fans and only serves to inflate the value of teams with artificial scarcity? And what do you mean that value would collapse anyway if Honda left because a series with only one engine manufacturer is inherently less enticing to invest in?

We cannot afford to have Honda leave the series.

Indycar is stagnating with not enough money in the series and an increasingly localized series going back and forth between a few midwestern venues. If Honda leaves, the limited about of money there is in Indycar plummets even further.

There will be no money for a new chassis, no money for going international, hell, there will be no money for new races in the United States.

Speaking of, that brings me to my next topic: international expansion. I've written a whole blogpost about this, so I'll keep it brief here: NASCAR beating Indycar to Mexico City is frankly embarrassing. Indycar used to have multiple races in Canada and Mexico, a race in Australia, a race in Brazil, in Japan, and even a couple of races in Europe over the years.

Now Indycar acts like going to Mexico City is some kind of massive hurdle.

We went to Surfers Paradise, Australia every year from 1991 to 2008.

Finally, let's talk about another problem: the big ovals. This is a damned if you do, damned if you don't area, because Indycar has its best racing at the Indianapolis 500, but whenever Indycar has tried to put on a similar show, it failed to draw in crowds.

Fontana 2015 is the best race that literally nobody watched.

The same can be said for Texas 2023, Pocono 2014, Homestead 2009, Michigan 2001, etc, etc.

I understand that Indycar superspeedway racing is dangerous, so it's pointless to do it if you're just gonna get 20,000 people in attendance, 700,000 people watch on TV, and a trophy with no historic significance, but look at any Indycar commercial or highlight reel.

The kind of spectacular high-speed racing that Indycar does at the Indianapolis 500 is what draws eyeballs, what draws attention...and we only do it once year.

And what really hurts is that at Pocono, it was starting to work out. Attendance was really bad in 2013 and 2014, yes, but by the time we got to 2018 and 2019, the race started to pick up some steam. It was one of the highest attended races outside of the Indy 500. When you come back to a track after having last raced there in 1989, it takes time to grow an event again: Pocono was growing again.

Unfortunately, Wilson died in 2015, Robert Wickens got paralyzed in 2018, and Felix Rosenqvist's 2019 accident was eerily reminiscent of what happened to Wickens the year before.

Ironically enough, that's not what killed the race.

ABC Supply Co. cut their sponsorship, which led to Richmond taking Pocono's place on the 2020 calendar. There was some suggestion that Indycar might return to Pocono in 2021, but, well...the entire planet kinda shut down for a little while there in 2020.

We never returned to Pocono, and we never wound up going to Richmond either.

Indycar's map remains confined to the Great Lakes area with a couple trips out to the southeast and the west coast. The series needs to be doing better than that.

If you won't give me a Michigan or Pocono, at least give me a Homestead.

If traveling's too much for you, how about trying to get something going at the vacant NASCAR venues of Chicagoland and Kentucky Speedway? Both held races in the IRL era and can provide us some real intermediate racing. It won't be a perfect replica of the Indianapolis 500, but we'll get to see these cars at speed. Chicagoland in particular has a good shape and banking that might provide spectacular racing without letting the speeds get too out of control.

If we can get a solid three of these races on the calendar, 1.5 mile plus, then I think we'll truly reach a golden mix of road, street, small oval, and big oval.

Build up these races as crown jewels, give us flashpoints in the season to look forward to after the Indy 500 ends.

We've seen the Indianapolis Motor Speedway go from strength to strength under Roger Penske's supervision, now what I want to see is this Fox deal lift up the rest of the series. I don't want to be negative about Indycar, I want to see Honda stay, I want to see Scott McLaughlin and Pato O'Ward and Alex Palou fighting for wins across multiple different disciplines of racing from tight streets to sweeping road courses to short little bull ring ovals to 200 mile per hour superspeedways.

I want Indycar to make me smile.

That's what I'm hoping for out of the 2025 season most of all.

[pamwritessometimes]

The Great Invasion: Chapter 1

Dean Winchester x female!reader

Summary: In a world turned upside down, where monsters hunt and hunters are the prey, Y/N must choose: follow the new rules to stay alive or join a rogue band of hunters determined to reclaim power and change the game for good.

General warnings: dark themes, gore, kind of apocalyptic vibes, language

Chapter warnings: mentions of murders of hunters, horrible description of a fight, kidnapping, demons being demons, captivity.

Theme song of the chapter: Champion by Barns Courtney

Series masterlist

Chapter 1: The Hunter Games

The stadium was packed like it was Super Bowl night and Taylor Swift was about to perform at the halftime show. The air was littered with different kinds of noises, laughing, heckling, betting, heated debates over who’d win this match. Names were chanted aggressively all around the field, bets were shouted across the aisles. From a distance it looked like any massive sports event, even sounded like one.

Just one friendly match…

But upon taking a closer glance one could see it wasn’t a regular game, not by any means.

Those seats weren’t filled with your standard-issue fans.

No, these spectators were monsters in every sense of the word. Ghosts floated uneasily above the cheap and creaky seats like they were haunted by the idea of proper lumbar support. Ghouls gnawed on concessions — and occasionally on each other — while witches cackled from different corners like it was open mic night at a coven comedy club. Werewolves let loose howls at random, probably to remind everyone they were there, and demons? Well, demons were the VIPs, lounging like they owned the joint…. Because let’s be honest, they actually did.

All of them packed the stadium to watch the same spectacle: humans fighting for their lives.

It was a standard form of entertainment now, events like this. Humans, hunters, more specifically, trying to fight for their lives.

And monsters ate up the whole event, not being ashamed of their monsterness. In a chaos like this, anyone could mingle, blend in.

This was the first thing she noticed and was fathomlessly grateful for. Since The Great Invasion, she rarely left the walls of the only safe place she could find, and with good reason. Even now she wore a dark green cloak pulled tight and sunglasses perched firmly on her nose. The kind of low profile look that ironically screamed, I don’t want to be noticed!

But so far, it worked. No one seemed to recognize her, and she intended to keep it that way.

Once seated, she tuned into a nearby conversation.

“Eighty-eight wins! Can you believe it?” a demon behind her said, his voice dripping with excitement.

“Don’t care” grunted another. “She doesn’t look like much. Probably just lucky.”

“She’s more than lucky, idiot. She was one of them. A real hunter. Ya know, back before we took over?”

“Yeah? So what? All of them down there are. She ain’t special. I’m betting she’s done for tonight.”

Rowena smirked faintly to herself. This was the right place, then.

Y/N was here.

Down on the field, the coordinator strutted out, a smarmy grin plastered across his face and a ridiculous suit clinging to his body. He raised his hands, and the crowd hushed in an instant, sensing the greatest shitshow of entertainment was about to begin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, fiends and freaks…” he began, pausing just long enough to milk the moment, “Welcome to the Second Hunter Games!”

It made Rowena cringe a bit; it felt like a tacky attempt to imitate human pop culture, but the crowd seemed to eat it up.

“As you all know” the announcer continued, “this is where the tables turned. We’re the hunters now, and they” he pointed smugly toward the cages at the edge of the arena where ten poor ragged humans huddled, “are the prey. Let’s see if they’ve got what it takes to entertain us, shall we?”

The crowd erupted again and the announcer basked in the spotlight.

The games began with the first hunter shoved onto the field like a lamb to slaughter on its birthday. He was tall, mid-twenties at most, but he had the look of someone who’d already given up. And let’s be real, he probably truly had. His opponent was a standard werewolf, if werewolves could be called normal. The creature took him down in less than five minutes. The crowd cheered but only half-heartedly during the first round. 

They weren’t here for warm-ups.

One by one, the hunters went out. Some tried to fight, others tried to talk. One even tried a heartfelt speech about unity and coexistence — he didn’t make it past “coex—” before a wendigo clamped down on his skull. The audience howled with laughter, blood spattering the arena floor like confetti.

Panem et circenses.

Finally, the energy shifted after the ninth round.

Here comes the main event.

The announcer strutted back to the center of the field, his grin somehow stretching even wider and smug enough to suggest he was about to introduce King Charles to a stadium full of overly enthusiastic Brits.

“And now” he drawled, stretching every syllable like he was getting paid by the second, “the match you’ve all been waiting for! Our reigning champion. The hunter who’s racked up more monster kills than you’ve had hot meals. Eighty-eight wins across countless blood-soaked battles. A walking nightmare for anything with fangs or claws. The only reason she’s not still out there handing you all your asses on a silver platter is… well, someone got to her first.”

The crowd roared with laughter.

“Give it up for the one, the only… Y/N Y/L/N!”

Rowena’s eyes were glued to the field, her anticipation was running high and it seemed like for a moment even Earth stopped turning. She heard a ton about you, some seemingly far-fetched anecdotes about the only hunter who could make it this far in this world. Just thinking about it, a strange feeling tugged at his heart.

Then you stepped out into the arena.

And for a second, Rowena hesitated, even looked crestfallen almost.

Her? This plain-looking thing? 

Was this the great champion she’d been sent to find, or were Jack and the trench coat baby just shitting her? Was she the one she was strangely excited to see?

Your appearance didn’t scream legendary hunter nor acclaimed champion, just… a plain ole regular hunter. Your hair was thrown into a sloppy ponytail and you wore a basic black tank top under a khaki jacket that looked more functional than fashionable. The only things that were new were your boots, but that seemed more like a perk of your status than an actual necessity.

However, for some reason, you didn’t have that desperate, hunted look that clung to the others’ faces. 

Then your opponent stepped into view and the crowd fell silent. 

He was tall, broad and built like a marble statue from afar, his every movement a study in control and power — like seeing a perfectly executed villain performance in a Broadway musical. His jawline could have cut glass and his eyes were cold enough to freeze it. He was dressed in all black, looking more like an assassin sent from the upper echelons of Hell than a combatant. Even his walk wasn’t just a walk. It was a declaration: he wasn’t here to fight. He was here to win.

Rowena watched as you faced him. No dramatic pose, no fear, just you, standing there, calm and almost… bored. Meanwhile, the guy smirked, already acting like he’d won.

The whole thing felt strange.

The crowd was a mess of cheers and jeers, half rooting for you, half betting you’d finally crash and burn. But Rowena noticed the phlegm in your eyes and your suppressed confidence that didn’t match the plain outfit you were rocking on the outside.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that you had something up your sleeves.

Then, the bell rang. 

The man lunged first but you sidestepped his hand and his attack sliced through empty air. It was all for a show, really. Any match like this was. You knew it, your opponent knew it, the whole arena knew it.

This is not how you fight a demon.

But that’s what the crowd wanted and that’s what they are getting. A circus.

The audience gasped as you landed a swift, clean jab to his ribs. It wasn’t a heavy hit but it was precise enough to make him (or rather his vessel) flinch.

Your opponent circled you, his smirk widening, but there was a flicker of irritation in his eyes now. He was used to fights that ended fast and messy, but you weren’t giving him that satisfaction.

He lunged again and this time you were ready. A subtle flick of your wrist sent a splash of liquid from a hidden vial straight onto his hand. The faint sizzle that followed was drowned out by the crowd’s cheers but Rowena saw it and so did he. His smirk faltered, just for a moment.

Holy water.

Rowena’s lips twitched into a smirk.

There she is. 

She had no idea how you managed to keep holy water on you (smuggled it, stashed it, conjured it, got it, who knew?) and she couldn’t understand why the other hunters hadn’t done the same. Could they not? But one thing was crystal clear: you weren’t here to lose.

The fight went on but calling it a fight feels generous. To be fair, you were running the show. You moved like you’d choreographed the whole thing beforehand, because you dodged his strikes like you knew everything was going to happen.

And all the while, you were muttering something under your breath.

Rowena tilted her head, her ears catching the sound with some magical help. Latin.

Her grin spread wide.

An exorcism. Clever little thing.

You weren’t just fighting him but you were dismantling him piece by piece.

Your opponent’s movements grew sloppier as his vessel started to reject him by your ancient words. Each syllable you muttered chipped away at his hold and every dodge, every counterstrike added to his frustration. The crowd thought he was just losing steam, but Rowena knew better. 

You were breaking him from the inside out.

Then came his final, and just as desperate charge. He lunged at you without actually realizing how clumsy his punch was. You dodged easily, stepping out of the way like it was nothing. This time, your voice got louder, the words now audible even to the crowd:

“…ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos.”

That was it. His body jerked violently, a guttural scream tearing from his throat as thick black smoke poured out of his mouth. The vessel dropped to the ground, staying limp and seemingly lifeless. You just hoped the human was alright.

You stood there, brushing off your hands like you’d just finished a chore not a fight to the death. Rowena leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs with a look that screamed satisfaction while her red lips curled into a sly grin.

Maybe she isn't as fragile as I thought so.

You hadn’t just won, you’d also put on one hell of a show.

And in this world, where blood and spectacle ruled that was what mattered most.

Sunlight poured through the long red curtains, spilling a golden glow across the pearly white walls of your room. It was the kind of quiet beauty you’d never taken the time to notice and bask in before.

Your dad’s voice echoed in your head: It’s the little things that count. Back then, you’d dismissed it as sentimental fluff people spouted when life was falling apart. But now, sitting in this room that was yours, but not quite yours, you got it.

Because everything had fallen apart. Or maybe it was better to say it had been shattered. And now, the only thing you had left were the little things. The way the light slanted just so or how you could still catch the tail-end of a sunset through your window, even in this messed-up new world.

It wasn’t always like this. You still remembered a time before The Great Invasion, even though it felt like a lifetime ago. It hadn’t been that long, though. Maybe two years? Who knew anymore? The calendar didn’t matter when monsters were in charge and time itself felt like a joke.

The knock at the door broke the stillness and your thoughts’ overflow. You glanced at the clock. 

Six p.m. already. 

The door creaked open, and in walked Rommer, your suite’s assigned waiter, carrying a tray. His hands were a bit shaky and his posture was stiff but he still managed to hold onto that old-fashioned professional air. Well, mostly, since the tension in his eyes betrayed him: He was scared. Not that you blamed him. You were scared, too.

Rommer had been working here at the Mandarin Oriental long before the monsters took over, so he knew how to fake calm when it mattered. But the truth was in his eyes: he was human, just like you. And every time you looked at him, you were reminded of the kind of life you could’ve had. What other kind of slave you could have ended up as.

He was a little grounding point in your life. The only presence you felt somewhat safe around. The only one that somewhat understood you here.

The little things.

Once or twice, you even tried to make him stay just a bit longer, just to talk and exchange more than five words. You were desperate for human contact, even for just getting to know his first name, but he didn’t seem to be a partner in your little attempt — his rigid posture and tight lips a clear indication of that.

But again, you couldn’t blame him.

Anyone would be tense and terrified if a demon billionaire essentially held them hostage.

It was strange, this life of luxury you were given. A room in a five-star hotel with all the trimmings and a staff that treated you like some lower level royalty. By all accounts, it should have been a dream. But dreams didn’t come with the kind of shadows that stuck to every step you took.

“Evening, Miss Y/L/N” he said, setting the tray down in front of you. Not silver, of course.

“Evening” you replied and offered him a slight smile despite the oddity of the entire situation. 

“The usual” he nodded at the plate of perfectly cooked steak and vegetables.

You thanked him and stared at him like he was the eighth wonder of the world… assuming the other seven were still standing.

He hesitated, as if about to say something, but he decided not to. His eyes flicked toward the door where the demon guard stood, watching rather indiscreetly. With a quick bow, Rommer left without saying another unnecessary word.

You stared at the tray, the smell of the food wafting up to you. It was good. It was always good. But somehow it never quite tasted right. It wasn’t the flavor, nor the texture, nor the temperature. Maybe it was because no matter how fancy the room, no matter how golden the sunlight, you couldn’t forget the truth.

This wasn’t freedom. This was a gilded cage.

Still, it was the only way to stay alive… And better than a life spent running forever.

Dean was in his element. A wide, open garage with all the tools he could ever need. It was way better than the bunker’s setup. His hands were covered in grease as he leaned over the Impala, carefully tweaking something under the hood. Honestly, he didn’t care who to thank, Jack, Cas, or the afterlife fairy, just as long as Baby was here with him.

Fixing her up wasn’t exactly thrilling, but it was steady work. Something simple. Something he loved. Something that brought him peace.

Metallica blared from somewhere, though he had no idea where. Heaven magic, probably, since he’d never seen a stereo in this place. Not that he was complaining.

Maybe it was the afterlife thing, but there was no rush here. No monsters to kill, no apocalyptic prophecies to stop. Just the hum of the engine and the whiskey-smooth riffs of Whiskey in the Jar keeping him company.

It was nice.

He could feel the presence of someone appearing in the background, but he didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Sammy, hope you found a few glasses of cold ‘cause I’m running out here” he said, still focused under the hood of his car.

"Hi, Dean."

It wasn’t the voice he expected. Dean straightened up, glancing toward the garage door. There, standing in the sunlight with hands shoved in his pockets, was Jack.

Dean blinked, staring for a moment. It’s been a while since he saw the kid. Jack was still… very much Jack. He looked just as young as before somehow, still nothing like a god… more like a kid just stopping by to say hello. 

And as much as he wanted to hope this was just a casual visit, a “hey, how’s it going, maybe drink a beer or two” Dean couldn’t shake the feeling it wasn’t that simple. After all, Jack was the most powerful creature in the universe now — was it weird to want to grab a beer with him?

“Jack” Dean wiped his hands off again, eyeing Jack with a half-smile. “What’s up? You’re not here for a good time, are you? Because I gotta tell ya, I’m on a roll with this carburetor.”

Jack’s eyes flashed with something uncharacteristically serious and Dean’s gut twisted at the sight. Shit. If Jack was showing up here on a peaceful, lazy forever-afternoon, it had to be for a reason.

Dean straightened. “Let me guess… If the big guy himself is here, it’s gotta be an emergency, right?”

“It’s kind of an emergency.” Jack nodded.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

Jack took a step forward, and just when Dean thought he’d get a straight answer, the kid held out his hand. A flash of glowing light flickered, and bam, Sam was suddenly standing there in front of them, a pack of beer in his hand, blinking like he’d just been yanked out of whatever peaceful afterlife he’d been enjoying in Heaven.

Well, he was heading this way anyway.

“Huh?” Dean blinked, half-amused and half-confused.

Sam rubbed his eyes, still processing what had just happened. “What’s going on, Dean?” Then his eyes ended on the kid. “Jack? Hey, how—“

Jack didn’t waste time answering, cutting him off. “We need you both. Something’s going on back on Earth. We gotta go to the bunker. Cas is already there.”

It was well past your usual lights-out when you heard a chopped Latin chant. You bolted upright in bed, the satin of your pajama top slipping off one shoulder as you fumbled for the first object within arm’s reach: your bedside lamp.

Damn Barbas. Of course, that bastard wouldn’t let you keep a single weapon for protection. Why would he? Keeping you helpless was part of his twisted game, though you weren’t precisely sure what that game was. Vessel or not, you loathed every inch of him, including that smug, sadistic face of his.

Your eyes scanned the dimly lit room, and it didn’t take long to spot a flashing light flickering in and out in the middle of your suite’s plush carpet.

“What the hell?” you muttered, freezing in place.

Someone had just teleported into your five-star hotel room.

Teleported. Not walked, not snuck in, teleported. No human could pull that off. And with all the layers of magic and muscle guarding this place, no low-tier spell-slinger should’ve been able to either.

As the last remnants of the shimmering magic faded, a figure emerged, a woman from what you could see, her back to you. She wore a dark cloak, though strands of red hair slipped out messily from beneath the hood.

“Oh, dear, you couldn’t have been more precise” her Scottish tone rang out.

Your grip tightened on the lamp as she turned. Rowena MacLeod. The ex-Queen of Hell herself. Your pulse spiked, adrenaline flooding your veins as your mind raced with all the reasons to hate her. Maybe she hadn’t masterminded The Great Invasion, but she’d failed to stop it. Hell’s gates had burst open on her watch, and the world had paid the price.

“Don’t look at me like that, dear” Rowena said, brushing a stray lock of red hair from her face. “We don’t have much time. I see you recognise me, that’s great. Saves me a lot of trouble.”

“How the hell did you get in here?” You narrowed your eyes, heart pounding in your chest.

Rowena sighed dramatically, folding her arms across her chest. “No time for that little debate club. I’m here to save your hide.”

“Save me? Excuse my ass if it doesn't believe the former Queen of Hell.”

Her lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Yes, my résumé does tend to precede me. But I assure you, I’m quite serious. Your little fortress of luxury here?” She gestured around the room with a dismissive wave. “It’s about to be less... secure.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked as your grip on the lamp was firm as ever. “And why would you wanna save me?”

"Well, let’s just say the ex-Queen of Hell has her ways. I’ve been keeping tabs on you since the Games. You… are quite the showstopper, dear.”

“That still doesn't answer my question.”

She tilted her head. "Well, this place is guarded, almost as much as the hideout I’m about to take you to. And to your misfortune, I couldn’t get past the gates without notice."

The implication hung in the air. “You…”

“I know, I know, I'm a piece of garbage, yes, you can let it all out later. But right now, I advise you to get out of that California king and let me get you out of here before your not-so-lovely captors arrive” she said, her voice dropping an octave and with that all traces of sarcasm was gone. “Unless you’d rather face them on your own. I’d love to see their expressions when they figure you let me in. After all, you’re not exactly on the friendliest terms with them, are you? And I have a feeling they will jump to conclusions about me being here.”

Your eyes widened in shock. She hadn’t just put you in an impossible situation, she’d made it worse than you could have ever imagined. If Barbas’ guards noticed her slipping through the magically guarded gates, and you were damn sure they had, they were already on their way. And if they found the two of you together in ‘your’ room? You might as well write your own obituary. Forget reasoning with them. You were already on dangerously thin ice with Barbas and his crew. Seeing you in this situation would be all the justification they needed.

No second chances. No questions asked. Just the sharp click of triggers being pulled.

No championship would make them listen to you. You weren’t important to them, not really. All they cared about was your skills and the reputation they could leverage from it. You were just a tool in their game, nothing more

The words barely left her mouth when a loud thud echoed in outside from the hallway. Your heart jumped into your throat as Rowena turned her head toward the noise.

“Well, that would be them” she said. “No time for debate, am I right?”

Before you could process what was happening, Rowena’s hands were moving, her fingers weaving through the air in fluid motions. You barely had time to protest when the air around you shimmered and the world around you vanished with a gut-wrenching lurch.

“Y/N! You little piece of shit!” Barbas’ voice thundered through the room, shaking the very walls as he and his entourage of guards stormed in and ripping the door off its hinges like it was a cheap piece of cardboard from a bargain bin as they did.

His eyes scanned the room with the intensity of a bloodhound on a hunt. The bed was empty and there was still a faint shimmer in the air jaut above the plush carpet in the center. Barbas’ jaw clenched so tightly one could hear the bones grinding together.

One of the guards (probably the one that drew the shorter straw) stammered, “There’s no s-sign of her, sir. She’s... g-gone. W-with Rowena M-MacLeod.”

Barbas’ fist collided with the nightstand with enough force to rattle the room. The wood groaned under the impact. “Find them. Now,” he barked, his eyes seething with rage as they flicked over his guards.

That anyone he implied was a very specific someone that can’t know Barbas messed this up.

When the swirling magic cleared, you were standing in a dimly lit room that smelled faintly of dust, gunpowder and old books.

“What the—?” you stumbled forward, clutching your stomach as the nausea of teleportation hit you like a truck.

Shit, I shouldn’t have eaten all that steak.

“Welcome to your new home” Rowena said with a flourish, already brushing herself off as if nothing had happened.

“You can’t just—” you groaned, doubling over slightly. “I can’t believe you just did this!”

“Oh, no need for dramatics” she said. “You’ll feel better in a moment. And you should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?” you snapped and you stood upright despite the dizziness. “You just fucking kidnapped me!”

“Oh, please” She scoffed, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “If I hadn’t, you’d be in a demon’s stew pot by now.”

“Which you caused!”

You were interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing from deeper within this strange yet seemingly enormous building. Your heart skipped a beat and you turned toward the noise, tense and ready for anything.

Mostly for throwing a few punches.

A tall man in a beige, worn trench coat appeared from one of the doorways.

He paused and took a long look at the both of you, his expression was almost completely stoic but you could see a hint of some stress and worry buried deep within.

“You made it back” he said to Rowenaz then his attention shifted to you. “I see you found her. Hello, Y/N. My name’s Castiel. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Next on The Great Invasion (Sneak Peek from Chapter 2)

Guns N’ Roses blasted through your headphones, drowning out every thought except the music. You made it your mission to listen to every cassette tape you found in the boxes. By the time you hit cassette number three’s flip side, the music was doing its job at making you feel a bit calmer a little too well. Your eyelids got heavier with every riff and before you knew it, you’d dozed off against the headboard. 

The music was loud enough to block out the creak of the door opening but not the voice that followed.

“Why’s there a chick in my room?” a gruff voice demanded. A pause. Then louder, like the words were physically offensive: “Listening to my damn tapes? Wearing my damn clothes?”

Maybe that last part didn’t bother him as much as the rest, though he wasn’t about to admit it. He was too busy scowling and reminding himself that this room, his room, was supposed to be his sanctuary. Instead, here you were, in his flannel, looking entirely too cozy and he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but also borderline irresistible for someone squatting in his space.

Or was this Jack’s way of saying, Sorry I yanked you out of Heaven, but hey, thanks for agreeing to help me clean up yet another apocalyptic mess!?

Because if so—

Congratulations, hunter, you made it this far! Welcome to the bunker.🤭

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of the Great Invasion! AndI also hope you buckled your seat belts because we are going to have a wild ride, I tell you.

Can’t wait to read your thoughts on this!!

xx Pam

Read Chapter 2 here

🤍Series taglist🤍

@thebiggerbear @spnaquakindgdom @globetrotter28 @kaz-2y5-spn @artyandink @hobby27 @lamentationsofalonelypotato @muhahaha303 @yeehawgiddyup13 @applelovesposts

🤍 Jensen taglist🤍

@roseblue373

[sophaeros]

arctic monkeys for q magazine, june 2011 (x) (x)

ARCTIC MONKEYS: Inside Alex Turner's Head

Words Sylvia Patterson Portrait John Wright

The day Arctic Monkeys moved into their six bedroom, Spanish-style villa in the Hollywood Hills, where the first-floor balcony looked over the patio swimming pool, they knew exactly what to do.

"From the balcony, you could get on t'roof and jump in't pool," chirps the Monkeys' most gregarious member, drummer Matt Helders, in his homely Yorkshire way. "We looked at it and said, That's definitely gonna happen. So by the end, we did a couple of 'em. Somersaults in t'pool, from the roof. At night time."

In January 2011, as Sheffield and the rest of Britain endured its bitterest winter in a century, Arctic Monkeys capered among the palm trees, eschewing hotels for a millionaire's Hollywood homestead as they recorded and mixed their fourth studio album, Suck It and See.

The four Monkeys, alongside producer James Ford and engineer James Brown, lived what they called the "American man thing": watched Super Bowl on giant TVs, played ping-pong, hired two Mustangs, cooked cartoon Tom And Jerry-sized steaks on barbecues on Sundays, had girlfriends over to visit, all cooking and drinking around the colossal outdoor kitchen area featuring a fridge and two dishwashers. Living atop the Hills, they could see the Pacific Ocean beyond by day, the infinite glittering lights of downtown LA by night.

Every day, en route to Sound City Studios, they'd travel in a seven-seater four-by-four through the mountains, via bohemian 60s enclave Laurel Canyon, blaring out the tunes: The Stones Roses, The Cramps, the Misfits' Hollywood Babylon. For the sometime teenage art-punk renegades whose guitarist, Jamie Cook, was once ejected from London's Met Bar for refusing to pay €22 for two beers, the comedy rock'n'roll life still feels, however, absolutely nothing like reality.

NICK O'MALLEY: "It were really as if we were on holiday. When we came back it's the most post-holiday blues I've ever had!"

JAMIE COOK: "It's hard to comment on that. It were just really good fun."

MATT HELDERS: "We always said, As soon as things like that feel normal, we're in trouble. But it's just funny. You might think it would get more and more serious as you get older but it's getting funnier. We've done four albums now and I'm still only 24, I'm still immature to an extent. So who cares?"

Alex? Al? Are you there?

ALEX TURNER: "Yeah, it were good times. But we were in the studio most of the time. So there's no real wild Hollywood stories. Hmn. Yeah."

Wednesday, 16 March 2011, Strongroom Bar, Shoreditch, East London, 11am. Alex Turner, 25, slips entirely alone into an empty art-crowd brasserie looking like an indie girl's indie dream boy: mop-top bouffant hair which coils, in curlicues, directly into his cheekbones, army-green waist-length jacket, baggy-arsed skinny jeans, black cord zip-up cardigan, simple gold chain, supermoon sized chocolate-brown eyes.

Almost six years after I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor became the indie-punk anthem of a generation (from the first of Arctic Monkeys' three Number 1 albums), and nothing prepares you for the curious phenomenon of Alex Turner "in conversation". Unlike so many of the Monkeys frenetic early songs, he operates in slow motion, seemingly underwater, carrying a protective shell on his back, perhaps indie rock's very own diamond-backed terrapin. The most celebrated young wordsmith in rock'n roll today talks fulsomely, in fact, only in shapeless, curling sentences punctuated with "maybe... hmn.. yeah", an anecdotal wilderness sketching pictures as vague as a cloud. He is, though, simultaneously adorable: amenable, gentle, graceful, and as Northern as a 70s grandpa who literally greets you with "ey oop?".

"People think I'm a miserable bastard," he notes, cheerfully, "but it's just the way me face falls." Still profoundly private, if not as hermetically sealed as a vacuum-packed length of Frankfurter, his fante-shy reticence extends not only to his personal life (his four-year relationship with It-girl/TV presenter Alexa Chung, whom he never mentions) but to insider details generally. Take the Monkeys’ Hollywood high jinks documented above: not one word of it was described by Turner. Before Q was informed by his other Monkey bandmates, Turner’s anecdotal aversion unfolded like this:

Describe the lovely villa you were in. AT: "Well... we certainly had a... good view."

Of what? AT: "Well, we were up quite high."

The downtown LA lights going on forever? AT: "I dunno. It was definitely that thing of getting a bit of sort of sunshine. Is it vitamin D? If you can get vitamin D on your record, you've got a bit of a head start. So we'd get up and drive to the studio."

What were you driving? AT: "Nothing... spectacular. But yeah, we'd drive up the studio, spend all day there and sort of, y know, get back. To be honest... we had limited time. So we spent as much time as possible kind of getting into it, like, in the studio.

So your favourite adventures were what? AT: "Well, they were really… minimal. We were working out there!"

Any nightclubs or anything, perhaps? AT: "You really want the goss 'ere, don't you?"

Yes, please. AT: "I could make some up. Nah!"

And this was on the second time of asking. It's perhaps obvious: Alex Turner, one of the most prolific songwriters of his generation (four Monkeys albums and two EPs in five years, The Last Shadow Puppets side-project, a bewitching acoustic soundtrack for his actor/video director friend Richard Ayoade's feature-length debut Submarine), is dedicated only to the cause – of being the best he can possibly be. He simply remembers the songs much more than the somersaults.

Throughout 2009, Arctic Monkeys toured third album Humbug – the record mostly made in the Californian desert with Queens Of The Stone Age man-monolith Josh Homme – across the planet. While hardly some cranium-blistering opus, its heavier sonic meanderings considerably slowed the Arctic Monkeys' live sets and on 23 August 2009, Q watched them headline the Lowlands Festival, Holland and witnessed a hitherto unthinkable sight – swathes of perplexed Monkeys fans trudging away from the stage. With the sludge rock mood matching their cascading dude-rock hair it seemed obvious: they'd smoked way too much outrageously strong weed in the desert.

"Heheheh, yeah," responds Turner, unperturbed. "That's your theory. You probably weren't alone."

Back in the Strongroom Bar, Turner's arm is now nonchalantly draped along the back of a beaten-up brown leather sofa. He ponders his band's somewhat contrary reputation…

"I think starting the headline set at Reading with a cover of a Nick Cave tune perhaps was a bit contrary. D'youknowhat Imean?! But to be honest, that summer, at those festivals, we had a great time. And I know some fans enjoyed those sets 10 times more. And you can't just do, y’know, another Mardy Bum or whatever. Because how could you, really?"

With Humbug, notes Turner, "I went into corners I hadn't before, because I needed to see what were there," but by spring 2010 he wanted their fourth album to be "more song-based" and less lyrically "removed". He was "organised this time", studied "the good songwriters" (from Nick Cave, The Byrds and Leonard Cohen to country colossi Johnny Cash and Patsy Cline), discovered "the other three strings" on his guitar, and wrote 12 songs through the spring and summer of 2010, mostly in the fourth-floor New York flat he shared with Chung before the couple moved back to London late last summer (the New York MTV show It's On With Alexa Chung was cancelled after two seasons). The result: major-key melodies, harmonised singing and classic song structures.

At the same time he revisited the opposite extreme: bands such as Black Sabbath and The Stooges ("we wanted a few wig-outs as well"); he was also still heavily influenced by the oil-thick grinder rock of Josh Homme, who is clearly now a permanent Monkeys hero. After four months' rehearsals in London, on 8 January the Monkeys relocated to LA for five swift weeks of production and Homme came to visit, singing backing vocals on All My Own Stunts. Tequila was involved.

"Tequila is probably me favourite," manages Turner, by way of an anecdote. "But it takes a certain climate... It's not the same... in the rain. Yeah. [Looks to be contemplating a lyric] Tequila in the rain."

Vocally, he developed the caramel richness first unveiled on The Last Shadow Puppets' Scott Walker-esque The Age Of The Understatement, finding a crooner's vibrato. "Everything before was so tight,” he notes, clutching his neck. "Probably just through nerves. That's just not there any more." Suck It and See contains at least four of the most glittering, sing-along, world-class pop songs (and obvious singles) of Arctic Monkeys' career: the towering, clanging She's Thunderstorms, the summertime stunner The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala, the heavenly harmonised title track and the Echo & The Bunnymen-esque jangly pop of closer That's Where You're Wrong.

Elsewhere, in typically contrary "fashion", there's preposterous head-banger bedlam (Brick By Brick, the rollicking faux-heavy rock download they released in March "just for fun", featuring vocals by Helders; Don't Sit Down 'Cause I've Moved Your Chair, and Library Pictures). News arrives that the first single proper will be Don't Sit Down 'Cause I've Moved Your Chair. Q is perplexed. Brilliantly titled, certainly, but arriving after Brick By Brick, the new album will appear to the planet as some comedy pastiche metal album for 12-year-old boys.

You've got all these colossal, summery, indie-pop classics and you've gone for... The Chair? AT: [Laughing uproariously] "The Chair! I'm now calling it The Chair, that's cool. Well for once it weren't even our suggestion. It was Laurence's (Bell, Domino label boss). And I were, Fucking too right! He's awesome. It'd be good to get a bit of fucking rock'n'roll out there, won't it? It's riffs. It's loud. It's funny."

If you don't release The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala as a single I'm going round Domino to kick Laurence's "awesome" butt. AT: "I think it'll be the next one!"

The record's title, meanwhile, could've been more enigmatically original than the un-loved phrase Suck It and See. The band, struggling with ideas due to the opposing sonic moods, invented an inspiration-conjuring ruse: to think of new names for effects pedals in the style of Tom Wolfe, Turner being long enamoured with the American author's legendarily psychedelic books The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test and The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby, "cos that just sounds awesome".

"There's the Big Muff pedal," he elaborates, "That’s the classic. I've got the Valve Slapper. And there's the Tube Screamer. So we came up with the Thunder Suckle Fuzz Canyon. And… wait till I assemble it in me mind… em… it'll come to me… The Blonde-O-Sonic Shimmer Trap. So we were going for summat like that."

A wasted opportunity?

"Nah. Because some of those things ended up in the lyrics anyway. Suck It and See was just easier."

Alex Turner, rock'n'roll's premier descriptive art-poet, still writes his lyrics long-hand in spiral-bound notebooks. "Writing lyrics is a craft that I've practised a bit now," he avers. "In me notebook it looks like sums. Theories. There's words and arrows going everywhere. There's always a few possibilities and I write the word 'OR' in a square."

For our most celebrated colloquial sketch-writer of the everyday observation (all betting pencils, boy slags and ice-cream van aggravations) the more successful he becomes, the less he orbits the ordinary. "I'm not struggling with that, to be honest," he decides. "In fact I'm enjoying writing lyrics much more than I did. Stories. Describing a picture. Um. There's quite a bit of weather and time in this one. Which is probably not reassuring. 'Oh God, he's writing about the weather.' Maybe leave that out!"

There are also some direct, funny, romantic observations: "That's not a skirt, girl, that's a sawn-off shotgun/And I only hope you've got it aimed at me..." (from the title track).

Some of your romantic quips, now, must be about Alexa. AT: "Right. Yeah. Definitely. Well... there's always been that side to our songs, when we weren't writing about... the fucking taxi rank. It's kind of inevitably... people you're with." [At the mention of Chung's name, Turner is visibly aggrieved, head sliding into his neck, terrapin-esque indeed.]

It must have been very grounding being in a proper relationship through all this madness. Because if you weren't, girls would be jumping all over your head. AT: "Em. Hmn. Well, of course that helps you to... I don't really know.. what the other way would be."

Does Alexa wonder if the lyrics are about her? AT: "Oh there's none of that. Yeah, no, there's no looking over the shoulder."

She must be curious, at least. "Maybe."

Did you ever watch Popworld? AT: [Nervous laughter] "Em! Now and again."

Did you ever see the episode where she helps Paul McCartney write a song about shoes? AT: "Ah, yeah I think so, maybe I did see that."

Well, if I was you, I'd have been thinking, "She's the one for me." AT: "Well. Yeah... maybe that would've... sealed the deal! Hmn. But maybe that wasn't when i got the ray of light. When was? Nah [buries head in hands]. I might have to go for a cigarette..."

Q can't torture him any more and joins him for a snout. Turner smokes Camels from a crumpled, sad, soft-pack and resembles a teenager again. As early song You Probably Couldn't See For The Lights But You Were Staring Straight At Me says, "Never tenser/Could all go a bit Frank Spencer…”

In January 2006, when Arctic Monkeys' Number 1 album Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not became the fastest-selling debut in UK history, inadvertently redefining the concept of autonomy and further imploding the decimated music industry (& wasn't their idea to be "the MySpace band", it was their fans': the Monkeys merely kick-started viral marketing by giving away demos at gigs), the 19- and 20-year-old Monkeys were terrible at fame. They weren't so much insurrectionary teenage upstarts as teenage innocents culturally traumatised by the peak-era fame democracy.

To their generation (born in the mid-'80s) fame was now synonymous with some-twat-off-the-telly a world of foaming tabloid hysteria where renown and celebrity meant, in fact, you were talentless. Hence their interview diffidence and receiving awards via videos dressed up as the Wizard OfOz and the Village People. Which only, ironically, made them even more celebrated and famous. (“That were a product of us just trying to hold onto the reins," thinks Turner today. "Being uncooperative.")

Q meets The Other Three one morning at 11am, in the well-appointed, empty bar of the Bethnal Green, Bast London hotel they're staying in (all three live in Sheffield, with their girlfriends, in their own homes). First to arrive is the industrious, sensible and cheerful Helders, crunching into a hangover-curing green apple. He has recovered from last year's boxing accident at the gym, which left his broken arm requiring a fitted plate. Now impressively purple-scarred, the break felt "interesting" and the doctor couldn't resist the one-armed drummer jest: "D'you like Def Leppard?"

Currently enjoying an enduring bromance with Diddy, he still doesn't feel famous, "it just doesn't feel that real, there's no paparazzi waiting for me to trip up." He and Turner, during the four-month rehearsals last year, became an accomplished roast dinner cooking duo for the band. "I reckon we could have us our own cookbook," he beams. "Pictures of us stirring, with a whisk."

O'Malley, an agreeable, twinkly-eyed 25-year-old with a strikingly deep voice and a winningly huge smile, is still coyly embarrassed by the interview process. A replacement for the departed original bass player Andy Nicholson in May 2006, he went from Asda shelf-filler to Glastonbury headliner in 13 months and still finds the Monkeys "a massive adventure". His life in Sheffield is profoundly normal – he's delighted that his new home since last October has an open-hearth fireplace: "Me parents had electric bars." He has also discovered cooking. “I’m just a pretty shit-hot housewife, most of the time," he smiles. "I cook stews, fish combinations, curries, chillies. I made a beef pho noodle soup the other day, Vietnamese, I surprised meself, had some mates round for that."

Recently, at his dad's 50th birthday bash, the party band, made up of family and friends, insisted he join them onstage "for ...The Dancefloor. So I were up there [mimes playing bass, all sheepish] and it were the wrong pitch, they didn't know the words or 'owt, going, Makin eyes... er..." He has no extra-curricular musical ambitions. "I'm happy just playing bass," he smiles. "I've never had the skill of doing songs meself. It'd be shit!"

Cook, 25, is still spectacularly embarrassed by the interview process. He perches upright, with a fixed nervous smile, newly shorn of the beard and ponytail he sported in LA: "Rockin' a pone, yeah, because I could get away with it." With his classic preppy haircut and dapper green military coat (from London's swish department store, Liberty), he looks like a handsome '40s film star. (Turner deems Cook "the band heartbreaker" and had a word with him post-LA: "I said to him, Come on, mate, you've got to get that beard shaved off. Get the girls back into us. Shift some posters.")

His life in Sheffield is also profoundly normal. He still plays Sunday League football with his local pub team, The Pack Horse FC (position, left back), remains in his long-term relationship with page-three-model-turned-make-up-artist Katie Downes and "potters about" at home, refusing to describe said home, "cos I'll get burgled".

A tiler by trade, he always vowed, should the Monkeys sign a deal, that he'd throw his trowel in a Sheffield river on his last day of work. "I never did fling me trowel," he confirms. "Probably still in me shed." He's never considered what his band represents to his generation. "I'd go insane thinking about it, I'm pretty good at not thinking about it… Oh God. I'm terrible at this!"

Back in the Strongroom Bar, Alex Turner is cloudily describing his everyday life. "I just keep meself to meself," he confounds. He mostly stays indoors and his perfect night in with Alexa is "watching loads of Sopranos. And doing roast dinners".

No longer spindle-limbed, he attends a gym and has handsomely well-defined arms – "You have to look after yourself."

Suddenly, Crying Lightning from Humbug rumbles over the bar stereo. "Wow. How about that? I was quite happy the other morning cos Brick By Brick were on the round-up goals on Soccer AM. It's still exciting when that happens. It was like Brick By Brick is real."

He spends his days writing music, "listening to records", and recommends Blues Run The Game by doomed '60s minstrel Jackson C Frank ("who's that lass?... Laura Marling, she did a cover recently), a simple, acoustic, deep and regretful stunner about missing someone on the road.

Lyrically, he cites as an example of greatness the Nick Cave B-side Little Empty Boat [from ‘97 single Into My Arms ], a comically sinister paean to a sexual power struggle: "Your knowledge is impressive and your argument is good/But I am the resurrection babe and you're standing on my foot."

"I need a hobby," he suddenly decides. "I'd like to learn another language." Since his mum is a German teacher (his dad teaches music), surely he can speak some German? "I know how to ask somebody if they've had fun at Christmas." Go on, then. "Nah!"

Where Turner's creative gifts stem from remains a contemporary rock'n'roll mystery; he became a fledgling songwriter at 16, after the gift of a guitar at Christmas from his parents. An only child, did his folks, perhaps, foresee artistic greatness? "I doubt it!" he balks. "Cos I didn't. I wasn't... a show kid." Like the others, he doesn't analyse the past, or the future.

"You can't constantly be thinking about what's happened," he reasons, "it's just about getting on with it." The elaborate pinky ring he now constantly wears, however, a silver, gold and ruby metal-goth corker featuring the words DEATH RAMPS is a permanent reminder of he and his best friends’ past. The Death Ramps is not only a Monkeys pseudonym and B-side to Teddy Picker, but a place they used to ride their bikes in Sheffield as kids.

"Up in the woods near where we lived," he nods. "Just little hills. But when you're eight years old they're death ramps." The ring was custom made by a friend of his, who runs top-end rock'n'roll jewellery emporium The Great Frog near London's Carnaby Street. Ask Turner why he thinks the chase between his writing and speaking eloquence is quite so mesmerisingly vast and he attempts a theory.

"Well, writing isn't the same as speaking," he muses. "Not for me. I seem to struggle more and more with... conversation. Talking onstage... I can't do it any more. Hmn. I'll have to work on that."

The ever-helpful Helders has a better theory.

"Since he's been writing songs," he ponders, “It seems like he’s always thinking about that. So even when he’s talking to you now, he’s thinking about the next thing that rhymes with a word. Even when he’s driving. We joke he’s a bad driver, his focus is never 100 per cent on what he’s doing. Which is good for us cos it means he’s got another 12 songs up his sleeve. I think music must be the easiest way for him to be concise and get everything out. Otherwise his head would explode.”

The Shoreditch.com photo studios, 18 March. Alex Turner, today, is more ethereally distracted than ever, transfixed by the studio iPod, playing Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, a version of I’d Rather Go Blind. Occasionally, he’ll completely lose his conversational thread, “Um. I’ve dropped a stitch.”

The first to arrive for Q’s photoshoot, he greets his incoming bandmates with enormous hugs (and also hugs them goodbye). Today, Q feels it’s pointless poking its pickaxe of serious enquiry further into Turner’s vacuum-packed soul and wonders if he’ll play, instead, a daft game. It’s called Popworld Questions, as first posed by someone he knows rather well.

“Oh, OK. Let’s do it,” he blinks, now perched in an empty dressing room. He then vigorously shakes his head, “Um…I’ve gotta snap back into it.”

Here, then, are some genuine “Alexa Chung on Popworld” questions (2006-2007), as originally posed to Matt Willis, Amy Winehouse, Robbie Williams, Pussycat Dolls, Kaiser Chiefs and Diddy.

Why do indie bands wear such tight jeans? AT: “Um. I supposed they do. They haven’t always. When we first were playing I was definitely in flares. You need to be quite tall to get the full effect, though. So, that's why this indie band wears such tight jeans, cos we've not got the legs for flares."

What makes you tick in the sexy department? AT: "Wow. Pass. What do I find most attractive in a woman? Something in the head? That's definitely a requirement. Well... Hmn. I'm struggling."

Tell us about all the lovely groupies. AT: "No!"

If dogs had human hands instead of paws, would you consider trying to teach them to play the piano? AT: "Absolutely. I'd teach Hey Jude."

How many plums d'you think you can comfortably fit in one hand? AT: "They're not very big. [Holds small, pale, girly hand up for inspection] It's a shame. Probably three. Diddy only managed two? Maybe not then. I can carry a lot of glasses at once, though. If they're small ones I can do four."

Are you cool? AT: "Not as much as I'd like to be. There's this clip where Clint Eastwood is on a talkshow and he gets asked, Everybody thinks of you as defining cool, what d'you think about that? And he gets his cigs out, takes one out, flicks it into his mouth, lights it and says, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Here, Turner locates his Camels soft-pack and attempts to do a Clint Eastwood. He flicks one upwards towards his mouth. And misses. Flicks another. And misses. "Third time lucky?" He misses. "I'll get it the next time." And succeeds. "Hey. Fourth time. Don't put that in! So there you go. I'm four steps away from where I wanna be."

Thank you very much for joining me here on Popworld, here's my clammy hand again. There it is, let it slip, hmmn. You can let go now. AT: "OK! Were you a Popworld fan, then? It was funny. Cool. What were we talking about, before?"

Blimey, Alex. What must you be like when you're completely stoned out of your head? AT: "Stoned? What d'you mean, cos I seem like that anyway? Yeah. A lot of people... tell me I'm a bit... dreamy. But I like the idea of that. Of being somewhere else."

Two days earlier, Turner had contemplated what he wanted from all this, in the end. Many seconds later he gave his deceptively ambitious answer.

"I just wanna write better songs," he decided. "And better lyrics. I just definitely wanna be good at it. Hmn. Yeah.”

—

RUFUS BLACK: AKA Matt Helders, on his ongoing bromance with Diddy

Matt Helders has known preposterous rap titan Diddy since they met in Miami in 2008. “He goes, Arctic Monkeys! Then he said summat about a B-side and I was like, He's not lying! I just thought, This is funny, I'm gonna go with this for a while." Last October Diddy texted Helders, suggesting he play drums with his Diddy Dirty Money band on Friday Night With Jonathan Ross, to give his own drummer a day off. “I were bowling with me girifriend at the time. In Sheffield, on a Sunday." On the day of recording, says Helder, "We had a musical director. That were one of the maddest times of my life. Next day Diddy said, Why don't you just stay? Come along with me. So I went everywhere with him." Diddy had "a convoy of cars" and made sure Helders was always in his. "He'd stop his car and go, Where's Matt? You're coming with me! So I'd get in his car. Just me, him, his security, driver." Diddy, by now, had given him a pseudonym - Rufus Black. "He kept saying, I don't wanna fuck up your image. And I'm, I don't think it's gonna do me any harm!" He stayed in Diddy's spectacularly expensive hotel. Some weeks later, Helders almost returned to the Dirty Money drumstool for a gig in Glasgow. "But we were rehearsing in London. I were like, I might come, how are you getting there? And he were like, Jet. Jump on t’jet with me. But I had to stay in Bethnal Green instead.”

Love’s young dream: Diddy (left) with Helders

[mountttmase]

Winter Sun - Chapter 5

Note - lil early treat as the game is on tomorrow. this is probably one of my favourites so I’m super excited for you guys to read it. Once again thank you sm for being so lovely I just adore you guys 🥺 also I added in a anons suggestion last minute I hope you like it 🤭 and feedback is appreciated as always 🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 6.1k

Warnings - series will contain fluff, smut & angst

Masterlist

You didn’t know if the heat was getting to Mason, but he could barely keep his hands off of you as the week went on.

Every night the pair of you ended up in one of the others room to let off some steam and you were beginning to wonder how you’d survive without him when the holiday finished. Even during the day he’d try and sneak you off if he could. Pretending you’d gone for a nap or to make a call so he could quickly make the pair of you cum and you couldn’t lie, you were having the time of your life.

It wasn’t just the sex though. He was right, you were his for the week and no matter where you were or what you were doing he was practically glued to your side. You were having the best week with him and all your friends and the little arrangement only made it even better.

You kept to your side of the deal too, making him breakfast and lunch if he wanted it. Treating him to ice cream when you were out even when he refused and making sure he always had his sun cream on but you knew he was secretly loving being taken care of in this way. Often finding him staring at you longingly as you made him something to eat like he wanted to pull you in and not let you go.

You felt good. Better than good, you felt wanted and needed and even though you both promised that the friendship came first and no feelings would be involved you noticed you’d started to slip.

You thought about him constantly when he wasn’t around, only feeling truly content when he was next to you and you felt yourself becoming in tune with the way he acted towards you. One misplaced glance or change in the tone of his voice had you spiralling but you were too afraid to say anything to him in case you made a fool of yourself so you kept it in. Trying to be as relaxed as possible around him.

You’d had a great week by all accounts though, getting drunk in the evening and soaking up the sun in the day and before you knew it there were only a few days left. Today was a little different though as you were meant to be having a girls day and Carly had arranged for the four of you to go pottery painting whilst the boys had their own thing going on but when you left you realised they were coming with you. Ben explaining that due to the weather their speedboat experience had been cancelled so they were tagging along to paint with you.

‘I’ve never done pottery painting, I don’t think I’ll be any good’ you told Mason as you all approached the building. Him holding the door open for you and you smiled as you walked passed him.

‘You decorate your cakes all fancy though, surely you can’t be too bad’

‘I guess we’ll have to wait and see’ you winked. Joining everyone else as a sweet older lady explained what you had to do.

Once she was done you were all allowed to go and pick your pottery, and once again you felt Mason brush up besides you as you looked for something to paint.

‘What are you thinking of painting?’ You asked him, eyes scanning the shelves for something exciting and you watched as he picked up a small stubby sort of vase before sending you a wink.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know’ he laughed before turning on his heel and making his way over to sit with the rest of the boys. Leaving you stumped before turning back to your only other hope.

‘Carly? Whar are you painting?’

‘Gonna paint Ben a mug I think, and maybe a little bowl for my cereal’ she mused, grabbing the biggest bowl she could see before taking it back to the girls table. You watched with a smile, knowing how much she loved her cookie crisp but your eyes were soon wandering over to Mason like they always did.

In the end you picked up a mug, wanting to paint Mason something too and then a mug for yourself before joining the girls. Sitting and gossiping as you let your creative juices flow and even though you were trying your hardest to paint something nice for Mason your lines were all wobbly and you thought it looked silly but you hoped it liked it.

For your own mug you decorated it with little strawberries and daisies, this coming out a little better than Masons but you were clearly taking too long as the girl’s had gone to join the boys to show off what they’d made as you were finishing up.

‘That's pretty’ Mason smiled, taking up the seat next to you. ‘The mugs not too bad either’

‘Oh hush it you’ you laughed. Secretly enjoying his compliments and you knew you were blushing as much as you tried to hide it.

‘Sorry, but it’s true, I am a bit concerned though. Please don’t tell me you’ve spent this whole time doing that’

‘Of course not’ you laughed, nodding your head to the side and you watched his eyes light up at the Spider-Man mug you’d painted for him. ‘I know it’s not great but I thought it might look good on your mug tree I got you’ you laughed, referring to the one you’d got him as a house warming gift and you watched his eyes soften as they flickered back between you and the mug.

‘You painted that for me?’

‘Of course. Just another little thank you of mine’ you teased but you could tell he was touched that you’d made something for him.

‘I guess I should show you what I did’ he laughed, a nervous expression on his face as he went to retrieve his item but you were more than confused when he set it down in front of you.

This looked nothing like the vase he’d picked up before. It was covered in little hearts of all shapes and sizes, pretty flowers and a few cupcakes hidden in here and there plus a slightly bigger pink heart that had gwen Stacey’s pink mask inside. Making you smile as you recalled all the times you’d spent watching it together and you loved the way both of yours tied in together without you meaning it too.

You were just about to ask what it was when you noticed the word tips carefully written in a fancy font on the front and your eyes shot up to his nervous ones.

‘It’s for your bakery. Thought it might look nicer than the coffee jar you’ve got sat by the till’ he laughed and your heart melted instantly.

‘Oh Mase’ you laughed. Dropping your brush and pulling him in for a hug and he held you back just as tightly. Tucking his head into your neck as he was a little shy and your heart thumped at how lovely he had been.

‘Bit of luck I painted something for you now huh?’ You laughed. Pulling back to look at his flushed face before his eyes darted to the Spider-Man mug in between you.

‘I’ll treasure it forever’ he laughed before helping you pick everything up and take it over to where everyone else’s were. The lady let you know they’d take around a week to be finished and you all wrote your addresses down for each piece before going to grab a quick lunch so you could get back to the villa. The weather now changing and after your busy morning and early afternoon, all you could think about was heading over to your chair and blocking out the rest of the world.

Well everyone but Mason at least.

He was still in the kitchen grabbing himself a drink, promising to follow you outside shortly to join you and with a quick, sneaky pinch to his bum you took the few steps from the kitchen to outside.

‘You coming in, y/n?’ Ben called, motioning his head into the pool as you walked around the edge towards you but you shook your head. Heading straight for the lounge chair you’d claimed as your own so you could get set up with your book however Ben seemed to be having different ideas. Stopping you in your tracks with his hands on your shoulders and the cheeky smile on his face unnerved you. ‘Come on, I haven’t seen you in there once this week’

‘So? I don’t want to’

‘But you have to, it’s the rules’ he laughed, turning you so you were now facing away from him, his chest pressed against your back as he bent slightly before lifting you from the floor.

‘Chilly I swear to god, put me down’ you shrieked, voice full of fear but you could tell he thought it was all hilarious. Swinging you from side to side as you thrashed and kicked your legs, your breaths short and sharp like you couldn’t take enough air in and as your eyes began to sting from fear you couldn’t help but let out a frightened whimper.

‘No can do, everyone needs to go for a swim or you can’t say you’ve had a proper holiday’ he laughed, swinging you back one final time before launching you into the water.

Everyone’s laughter and cheering was suddenly silenced, all you could hear was a rushing noise as you tried to fight your way to safety. You didn’t know what way was up and what was down and the more you struggled the more lost you became. Your lungs burning as you resisted the urge to open your mouth and scream but you were so frightened you didn’t know what else to do.

I’m gonna die, the only thought that was rushing through your head but the sudden feeling of someone’s arms around your waist as they dragged you up and back to the real world knocked the wind out of you.

You were gasping for breath instantly, your hands gripping onto someone’s strong shoulders as you tried to calm your aching lungs before you felt their hand on you back so they could pull you into them. Your arms snaked around their neck as you hid your head into them and they rubbed up and down soothingly to try and relax you before pulling you flush against them with their lips to your ear.

‘It’s okay, you’re safe now. I’ve got you, yeah? I promise it’s alright’

‘Mase’ you whimpered, booming coughs erupting from you as you clung to him even tighter. Wrapping your legs around his waist as he held you to his chest tightly and you knew you were going to be fine.

‘I know, Muffin. I promise I’ve got you’ he told you gently as he slowly walked you to the steps of the pool, gently walking you out whilst you clung to him like a koala and once you were up the steps and on the side you let yourself slide down his body so you could stand on your own. You could feel him start to pull back, probably wanting to check you were okay but you were having none of it. Small sobs now poring from you as you realised you were okay, the shock of it all finally hitting you and the embarrassment of everyone having seen you flapping about like a wet fish made you hold him even tighter as you cried into his neck.

‘Y/n I-‘ Ben started from behind you but Mason was quick to cut him off for you.

‘Don’t, Ben. Just don’t’

‘I didn’t-‘

‘Ben I swear to god if you don’t fuck off right now’ Mason growled, his body going stuff as he pulled you impossibly closer to his body. ‘I mean what the fuck were you thinking?’ He roared, but you didn’t want to start and argument so you pulled back in the hopes he’d look at you. He looked furious, cheeks flushed as his brows pitched together and you could feel the anger pouring from him but you watched his expression soften at the sight of you.

‘Can we just go inside’ you whispered through your tears and without so much a look in Bens direction, Mason lead you into the kitchen and away from everyone else before picking you up by your thighs and placing you on the counter.

‘Are you okay?’ He whispered, holding you by the jaw so she could get a good look at you and even though you were still crying and taking in strangled breaths you nodded your head. ‘What happened?’

‘H-he threw me I-in. I p-panicked’ you stuttered out before he pulled you back into his chest so you could calm down. You knew you were fine but your heart was still beating out of your chest and you were thankful you had Mason to grip onto.

Once you were calm again you pulled back to look at him, a soft concerned expression on his face as he placed a soft kiss to your forehead and you couldn’t ignore the goosebumps that traveled over your arms at the gesture. His touch was grounding you more than you thought it would but the feel of his lips on your skin made you feel even better.

‘You really don’t like the water do you?’ He asked softly, a small smile on his lips and you shook your head softly as you rubbed at your eyes. ‘Can you swim?’ He questioned gently and you took a nervous gulp before answering.

‘No’ you whispered, wanting to look away out of embarrassment but his non judgemental stare settled you and your carried on looking into his gentle eyes.

‘Y/n’ he sighed, but you could tell there was smile behind his voice as he slightly scolded you. ‘You need to tell me things like that. How am I supposed to look after you if I don’t know?’

‘Sorry’ you chuckled but he just shook his head before pulling you back into his embrace.

‘It’s alright. Just as long as you’re okay’ he mumbled, pulling back to look at you and you sent him a reassuring smile.

‘I’ll be fine’

‘Good’ he laughed before dropping his head to press a light kiss to your lips.

You froze, that’s against the rules being your first thought but he didn’t seem to be reacting in any way so you kept your cool and acted like what he’d just done was normal even though it was anything but.

‘Do you fancy going out for a bit? We can head to the beach rather than hanging here, I just know if I see Ben I’m likely to throttle him’ he joked, squeezing your waist lightly and you agreed, still a little embarrassed about the whole thing so you let him help you down so you could quickly leave.

You tried to be quick, drying yourself off and changing into a new bikini and a pair of shorts before chucking on an over shirt and trainers snd meeting Mason in the hall outside your rooms.

He was dressed in shorts and a tank, clearly throwing his own outfit together pretty hastily but looking at him still made your knees weak. The fact he’d have his tattoos on show for you today too made your tummy flip so when he held out his hand you took it straight away before he led you outside and thankfully you didn’t see anyone on the way out. Following Mason with your head down and once you were out he steered you towards the main town.

‘Thought we could have a walk on the beach maybe? Or look round some shops?’

‘Sounds perfect’ you smiled, squeezing his hand gently as you followed him down.

You arrived at the shops first, the pair of you looking at all the trinkets and souvenirs before Mason asked if you’d like to play a game and you looked up at Mason with a confused expression.

‘Whenever me and my family go away we get each other a magnet’ he told you, head motioning inside one of the tourist shops at a giant wall of magnets. ‘You go in here, I’ll go into the shop opposite and we can buy each other one. You know, one that reminds us of the other’ he explained but your silence made his face falter. ‘Or if that’s weird we can just-‘

‘No Mason I love it’ you giggled, squeezing his hand before letting go. ‘I’ll meet you out here in a sec yeah?’

‘Okay’ he nodded shyly before you both went in separate directions. There were a few you were considering but in the end you picked up one that looked like a rooster as it reminded you of Nando’s and you’d seen them everywhere this week and once you’d picked up a few more things for people back home, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Carly’s name flashing up on your screen and you felt nervous instantly. She wasn’t around when the pool fiasco happened and you knew she was probably worrying where you were.

You met him outside where he was looking at you with a cheeky smile before quickly swapping the little paper bags they were hidden in, both bursting into fits of giggles when you saw you’d bought each other the same one.

‘You fancy a walk on the beach? We can stay away from the water if you want’ he smiled but you just laughed and took his outstretched hand. Walking along the shore as he intwinted his fingers with yours.

It all felt so surreal, getting caught up in the moment even though you know you shouldn’t have, but the way he was acting so soft and caring with you made your heart flutter and you had to remind yourself often that he was still just your friend.

He stopped suddenly, pulling his phone out his his pocket before seemingly trying to take a picture of the sand in front of you and you were confused as to what he was doing until he threw a peace sign up in the air, looking down to see his shadow on the sand so you joined in as he took a few more. Both giggling away until he placed his arm around your waist and pulled you flush against his side before popping a kiss on your forehead and snapping a picture.

You looked up at him carefully, his bright eyes looking down into yours and the urge to kiss him was stronger than ever. He beat you to it though, planting another illegal kiss on your lips softly before taking your hand again so you could carry on walking.

‘You feeling better now, Muffin?’ He asked quietly, a hint of worry still in his eyes but it needn’t be there.

‘Much better. Thank you for looking after me Mase’ you told him sincerely, wrapping your arms around his waist so you could hold him close. ‘Sorry for ruining your peaceful afternoon’

‘Don’t be silly, I’d rather hang out with you anyway. I was thinking, maybe we could grab some dinner out? Unless you wanna go back, we can do that too’ he told you, rushing at the end like he thought he’d overstepped but you were enjoying your alone time with him so you sent him a reassuring smile.

‘No I like the sound of that. Maybe we could have a little picnic on the beach? I don’t think I’m looking too presentable to be sitting in somewhere’ you laughed, looking down and your thrown together outfit and still damp hair but the soft smile on his face relaxed you.

‘I mean I think you look great but whatever you want’ he winked, squeezing your sides playfully.

After another quick walk around the town, Mason pointed out a take away pizza place and put your order in before you popped into the small supermarket opposite to grab some drinks and sweet treats before taking your food back to the beach so you could eat and watch the sunset.

Even though you didn’t like the water, there was something about sitting by the sea and the sound of the waves that made you feel at peace. And sitting with Mason as you spoke casually about future plans and how he was looking forward to the rest of the season made your heart sing.

‘I know we haven’t known each other too long in the grand scheme of things, but you know I’m really proud of you, don’t you?’ You told him softly, watching the most heartwarming smile stretch across his face before he patted the space in front of him so you’d sit in between his legs. Once you were comfortable his arms snaked around your waist and you placed yours on top of his as he pulled you as close as he could to him. His lips by your ear so he could speak to you quietly.

‘I’m proud of you too, Muffin’ he whispered, the smile in his voice evident but you both started giggling as he kissed the side of your head. ‘I’m serious. You’ve got your own thing going on and you’re so successful and like I’m just so happy for you, you know? No one deserves to be happy more than you’

‘You deserve to be happy too’ you told him, moving your shoulders round slightly so you could look at him and you almost melted when his hand came to rest on your cheek so he could stroke it gently.

‘I am happy’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah, I know it was a big choice to go up there and have everything change. And yeah maybe there are certain things I would of liked to of kept the same but I think it’s worked out pretty well’

‘I think so too’ you whispered, your smile mirroring his as he continued to gently stroke your cheek. ‘Though I miss having you around’

‘I miss you too’ he smiled

‘Hmmm me or my cakes?’

‘Your cake’s obviously’ he laughed, making you roll your eyes playfully as you looked away from him but he was quick to hold you closer and scatter kisses on top of your head until you looked back. ‘I’m kidding. It’s mostly you’

There was that feeling again, wanting to kiss him more than anything and you knew he felt the same because his eyes kept flashing down to your lips as they flickered all over your face. You figured you’d just take the plunge, he’d kissed you twice already today so you reached up and thankfully he caught on and met you in the middle.

Kissing Mason like this made you feel giddy. You were breaking every rule in the book but there was no intent behind it, just two people showing the other how they felt and you hope Mason could tell how much you appreciated him for everything

‘Thank you for this week, Mase, I was really worried about coming but I’m so glad I did. I’ll never be able to repay you’

‘You don’t have to thank me or repay me’

‘But I do. I really appreciate everything you do for me’

‘Well do you send me cakes a lot’ he winked, ‘and you're always there for my games, good times and bad you're by my side so I appreciate you too. More than you know’ he told you softly. A warm fuzzy feeling spreading over your skin and you didn’t have the confidence to look at him anymore so you faced forward as the pair of you snuggled closer and listened to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.

‘Shall we head back? You’re starting to get cold and I don’t have anything for you’ Mason asked after a little while and even though you were content in his arms you knew it was getting late and you’d have to head back soon so you begrudgingly nodded.

‘Okay’ you whispered, taking a slow walk back with his hand in yours the whole way. When you got back, the house was silent and you weren’t even sure if anyone was in so you made your way down to your rooms after putting your leftovers in the fridge. Standing awkwardly outside your doors as he scratched the back of his neck.

‘You wanna come in here for a bit?’ He asked, making you raise your brows at him suggestively but he was quick to settle you. ‘Nothing like that, I just thought we could hang out for a bit. Watch a movie before bed?’

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah I just… I don’t wanna leave you yet like it feels weird to me’

‘It feels weird to me too’ you admitted shyly and your heart stuttered at his soft smile. ‘Listen, I’m just gonna have a quick shower, get changed and run upstairs for a water. You want me to get you anything?’

‘Why don’t you get us some snacks, I’ll let you pick’ he told you and with a final kiss to your forehead he let you go.

After your shower you found one of your nicer sets of pjs and you made your way upstairs but the sight in front of you made guilt rush through you. There was Ben, his face sat propped up on his fists as he leant against the counter and you could see how miserable he looked just from a glance.

You felt awful, you knew he hadn’t meant anything in a mean way earlier and when his eyes flickered over to yours you sent him a sympathetic smile.

‘You’re back’

‘Yeah we got back about fifteen minutes ago’ you told him as he sat up but he kept his eyes glued to the counter as he nodded his head and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

Without another word you made your way over to him, touching his shoulder so he’d turn a bit before pulling him into your arms. You felt him relax immediately as he held you tightly and you rubbed his back gently hoping to let him know everything was fine between you.

‘I’m so fucking sorry, y/n’ he told you quietly but you could hear the emotion in his voice and it was breaking your heart. ‘I honestly had no idea, I was just trying to have a bit of fun’

‘I know Ben. I know you didn’t mean it horribly and I’m fine I promise. I don’t tell people I can’t swim cause it’s a bit embarrassing but you didn’t know that’ you reassured him as you pulled away but kept your hands on his shoulders. ‘As for Mase I think he just got a bit scared but I’ve had a word with him. There wasn’t any need for him to speak to you like that’

‘It’s fine I deserved a telling off’ he smiled shyly and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. ‘You promise you’re alright?’

‘Fit as a fiddle’ you winked before walking over to the fridge. ‘I was more embarrassed than anything else. Like me, a full grown woman who can’t swim?’

‘Well if you fancy a lesson I can try and teach you. We can call it part of my apology’ he offered and even though you were petrified you wanted to do something to make him feel better.

‘You know what, I’ll take you up on that’ you laughed, shutting the fridge as you gathered your haul in your hands. ‘Let’s start in the morning’

‘It’s a deal’ he winked, a bright smile on his face and you felt better than you had all afternoon knowing you were fine.

‘I better take these down to his majesty’ you joked, motioning towards your full arms. ‘I’ll see you in the morning though, yeah?’

‘Course. Have a good night y/n’

‘You too’ you smiled and with a quick kiss to your cheek you both made your separate ways to your rooms. You didn’t bother knocking when you got to Mason's room, walking in so you could drop the snacks and drinks straight onto the bed but after you’d shut the door and finally caught sight of him, your mouth went dry.

He was lying horizontally across the bed on his side, flicking through the channels to find something to watch clad only in a pair of tight black Calvin’s. As soon as you made eye contact he sent you a sweet smile, shuffling up a bit straighter before patting the space in front of him and it felt like your heart was going a mile a minute as he helped you get settled. His warm skin pressed fully against yours as he tangled your legs together and wrapped his arm around your middle, but it was the light kiss pressed against your temple that made you blush harder than anything.

‘Comfy?’ He asked softly, lips right by your ear casing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin, you just hoped he wouldn't notice and when he didn’t say anything you just nodded and let him hit play.

It was a comfortable silence, but then again you were always comfortable around Mason. The pair of you munching your way through your snacks as you absentmindedly watched the film that was on until you felt him reach for his phone. Tapping away for a few minutes before he placed it back on the bed until you felt your own phone buzz on the side table.

‘I’d get that if I were you’ he told you quietly. Eyes not leaving the tv and you thought it was a bit weird of him but you didn’t question it. Reaching for it to see who it could be but you were surprised to find it was Mason trying to airdrop you something. The first thing looked like a picture of you taken from behind at a beach bar the other day and you felt your heart race as you pressed accept.

You weren’t prepared for what was coming through to you though. A full album of candid shots of yourself from nights out and day trips that Mason must have taken sneakily and you felt your whole body flush as you flicked through them. Seeing yourself through his eyes a little and you’d sworn you’d never felt more beautiful than right now.

‘Mason? What the hell is all this?’ You asked, looking up at him with a wide smile and you watched his cheeks turn the same shade of pink yours probably were.

‘Just some pictures I’ve taken this week that I thought you might like’ he told you. Trying to shrug it off but you knew he knew what he’d done was special to you. ‘I thought maybe you could use some for your daily instagram dumps you seem to love. Do you like them?’

‘I love them, thank you’ you told him. Pulling him towards you tighter and you shivered as he kissed your shoulder.

‘That's okay. I know the others were constantly asking the boys to take pictures and I didn’t want you left out. I’ve kept a few for myself though’ he teased. Making you laugh as you looked back up at him.

‘I suppose I’ll allow it’ you smiled. Reaching up to kiss his jaw before your eyes went back to your phone so you could look through them again and try and find your favourite but it didn’t take long for your eyes to go heavy. It had been a long and slightly stressful day and the warmth of Mason's body and the calmness that you felt about being around him was sending you to sleep quicker than anything. He must have felt it, moving you round so your front was now pressed against his chest with your head in his neck but you knew you couldn’t get too comfortable. Sleeping in the same bed was against the rules.

Not that you’d stuck to the rules at all today.

‘Just gimme five minutes and I’ll go to my room’ you told him quietly, the rumbling of his chest as he laughed waking you slightly but not too much.

‘Don’t be silly, stay here tonight’

‘But Mase-‘

‘But nothing. Just go to sleep, Muffin’ he whispered into your hair and you knew your skin was covered in goosebumps.

You didn’t say another word, just snuggled down further into him as he held you even closer. His hands absentmindedly stroking over your skin and lulling you further into sleep, the last thing you remember being his lips on your forehead as he pressed feather light kisses to your hairline.

When you woke up, you knew it wasn’t morning yet. The sky was a little lighter than when you went to sleep but your thoughts were confirmed when you quickly checked your phone and the time read 03:47am. You weren’t sure why you were awake but you quickly dashed to the loo, carefully untangling yourself from Mason as to not wake him but you saw his eyes open when you returned. You had been contemplating going back to your room but he opened his arms for you as you stood awkwardly and you couldn’t deny him.

‘Sorry, Mase. I didn’t mean to wake you’ you whispered, crawling back into his arms but you let him spoon you this time, smiling at the feel of his arms around you and his lips pressed to the base of your neck.

‘S’okay’ he whispered back, continuing to press small kisses over the bottom of your neck whilst he let his hands wander your body carefully and before long you could feel yourself getting turned on.

You weren’t sure if this was his intention or if he just wanted to feel you but you knew your breathing had gotten deeper as he began to massage over you waist and hips before finally taking your bum in his hands and you couldn't help but moan a little bit. Yes the pair of you had been touchy all day but you’d missed his hands on you like this and once he could hear how he was making you feel he started taking things to the next level.

It was your thighs next, hands reaching forward to massage them softly whilst he littered your neck with kisses and it wasn’t long before you felt him prodding you in the back which caused you to let out a little chuckle. ‘Shhhh’ he laughed, letting his hands travel inward to part them before hooking one up and over his body. Leaving you open for him to do as he pleased.

You felt you hips moving before you’d even realised, grinding your bum down onto him and the chuckle that left his lips would have almost left you embarrassed but you didn’t care. You just wanted to feel him again.

‘You just can’t wait can’t you, baby? So needy for me’

‘Please Mase’ you whimpered. Your spine tingling at him calling you baby but thankfully he didn’t want to make you work for it. Just as needy as you it seemed as he pulled your shorts from you and freed himself just enough to be able push himself into you. One arm wrapped around you to hold you close as the other hooked under your thigh to hold it up as he bucked his hips into you from behind and the kisses he was pressing to the back of your neck were driving you wild.

It was lazy and delicious, the pair of you taking it as slow as you could so you could just feel each other rather than chase your highs. Not having sex for the aim of getting off but just because it felt good to be pressed up against each other, to feel him rock his hips in and out of you just like he knew you loved whilst whispering the most heavenly praise in your ear.

You look so fucking beautiful

Feels like you were made for me, you know that?

Let me hear all those pretty noises you make. I don’t care if anyone hears us I wanna know how good you feel

You’re doing so well for me sweetheart

I’ve got you, let go for me gorgeous

When you’d finally come down from your high, you could still feel him pressing the most delicate kisses to the back of your neck until he was burying his face in there. Taking a huge breath like he was absorbing you in and couldn’t wipe the smile off your face.

The pair of you didn’t move, Mason just feeling heavier and heavier as he sunk into you even more. Falling straight back to sleep so you joined him knowing you’d hadn’t felt this content in the longest time.

y/n

liked by masonmount, carlywlms_, benchilwell and others

Y/n a day well spent 🩷

view comments

masonmount ✌🏻

y/n ✌🏻

declanrice that pizza look insane

y/n It was 👩🏻‍🍳😘 there’s a few slices in the fridge if you want some

carlywlms_ missed you this afternoon 💜

y/n I’ll be there to annoy you tomorrow 💜

okaylaaa omg the magnets 😩 @woody_ we need to get some before we go

y/n they had so many, it’s hard to choose 😭

woody_ I’ll take you tomorrow 😉

benchilwell 💛

y/n 💛

laurenfryer_ you didn’t want to show everyone your Spider-Man mug, no?

y/n I didn’t want to embarrass everyone else with my skills

lukeshaw23 tell Mase that’s not part of his meal plan

y/n It’s a one off treat 😉

masonmount let me tell you, I’ve had many treats this week 😌

__nads hope you’re having the best time 🩷 everyone’s asking after you 🥺

y/n thank you, i hope it’s okay going okay 😂

__nads sugar mumma is still standing 😉

masonmount can you post me up some brownies for when I get home please? Or just whatever’s left over tomorrow, I’m not fussy

y/n @__nads ignore him please 🙄

masonmount no no, she owes me

__nads I’m not getting involved in your domestic 😭

Tagged: @footiehoemcfc @prideofpd @yoursselo @chelseachilly @willow-writer-ivy @mm-vii @katharinanadiaa @mmountseb @carlottawllms @saltyheartnightmare @masonmtxo @harvestmount @chillymountsjess @treblebluesblog @pulisicsgirl @bluesswift @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps

[plussizeficchick]

Hey guys.. so interesting factoid about me; I like to watch wrestling. I mean, tune in every week, watch the PPV’s, buy the merch type of fan.

Soo, let’s talk about Pro Wrestler!Bakugo

At first, he had no interest in it, he wanted a more rugged sport like football, but after his mother saw one too many players get CTE, she immediately pulled him from the sport.

He was angry at first because dammit, he’s not like those other extras on the field! But alas, to save himself an earful, he quit the sport as a two-time Super Bowl champion.

But he needed something else to let his aggression out. Something heavy-hitting.

That’s when he found pro wrestling.

At first, he was shit, he can admit that. He didn’t know how to run the ropes, he wasn’t with the high-flying shit and making people tap out didn’t satisfy his needs. That’s when he found his real fighting style.

Brawler.

He likes to beat people up. He likes pummeling his opponents into bloody heaps until they’re too far gone to even stand. And he especially likes the shiny belt that gets thrown over his shoulder after every title defense.

But nothing, nothing, compares to the cute, chunky commentator that sits at ringside.

He thinks you’re absolutely adorable, the way you try to shit on his matches and promos, and he knows it’s hard! He’s incredibly charismatic and he has the chops to back it up.

He corners you one day before a show, “Hey, Chubs. You got a problem with me or something?” He presses you. You’re a bit caught off guard and he uses that to back you up against a wall. “Cat got your tongue? Funny how you always seem to have something to say out there but when it’s just us…” You cut him off, pressing a firm, manicured finger into his chest. “Listen, asshole. I actually do have a problem with you. I think you’re full of shit. You walk around like you own the place, when the only reason you got your spot in the company is by kissing the boss’s ass. So yeah, I’ve got a fucking problem with you.” You storm off, muttering incoherently under your breath and fuck, Bakugo doesn’t think he’s ever been harder than he was right then.

The following week you’re the one cornering him in the hallway. “What the fuck is this?” You angrily shove the papers in his face. Bakugo smirks at the papers, “I see you got the news.” “No shit I got the news, what the fuck are you trying to do?” You press. Bakugo stands, towering over you. “Easy, Princess. All I told them was that I’d want to work with you more. I didn’t think they’d put us together. But then again, why wouldn’t they want to keep their top guy happy?” He’s smug, the bastard. And you want more than anything to wipe that smirk off his face.

“Fine then.” You grab his hand and lead him to his personal locker room. “If we’re gonna do this, I want it to look real.” The smirk drops from his face as you toss the door open. He follows behind you and locks the door when you instruct him to. Since when did you start telling him what to do?

By the time he turns back around, you’ve already made yourself comfortable on the large sofa. You removed your jeans and panties, tossing the lacy garment his way. “I want you to eat me out, Champ.” Fuck, you’ve got him hooked already.

He makes his way over to you, getting on his knees to breathe in your delicious scent. His mouth is practically watering as he sucks hickies onto your thighs, eager to finally dig in to what he’s been denied so long. You thread your fingers through his ash blonde hair, slightly tugging. “Hurry, ‘Suki.” You whine. He wants to hear you beg more, but he knows he’ll get the opportunity to later on.

He dives right in, lapping up your juices before sucking your clit into his mouth. You gasp at the feeling, bucking your hips up against his face. He’s messy, he spits on your cunt before lapping it right back up along with your juices. “Fuck, ‘Suki. S’good. Please.” You cry out. “Please what, Princess? Gotta tell me what you want.” He mumbles into your cunt. “Fingers. Please. Want your fingers, baby.” As much as he wants to deny, the pet name does something to him, he can’t help but comply.

He coats two fingers in your essence before slowly pressing the middle one inside, curling the finger in search of that special spot. You whine at the feeling, cunt clenching around him. “Gotta open up, baby. Gotta let me stretch you out for my cock.” He coos at you, his voice a striking contrast to how he sounds when he addresses the masses. It’s then that you come to the revelation that he only addresses you like that. He’s never loud, never aggressive when he’s with you. You don’t know why, but it has your cunt dripping that he’s only like that with you.

He slides in another finger, working you closer to your orgasm, and when he finally puts that heavenly mouth back to work, you feel your cunt spasming, core clenching as your orgasm washes over you. He milks it for all your worth and keeps going, and before long you feel another orgasm rush through you, though this one feels more different than the first.

“‘Suki, wait! I’m gonna-” “Cum, cum for me again, baby. Want you to soak my face.” You cry out as you cum for the second time that night, squirting all over Katsuki’s face. You grind your cunt against him, his nose bumping your sensitive nub. He lets you ride it out, before finally pulling away, your juices dripping from his chin. He licks his lips before pressing a fiery kiss to your lips, allowing you to taste yourself.

You hum at the taste, but you’re eager for the real star of the show. You pull at his belt, signaling that you want his clothes off, and who is he to deny you? He takes off his pants, but unlike you, he keeps his shirt on seeing as the show was going to start soon. His cock bobs up against his abdomen and the tip is a pretty shade of pink, with a few veins along the sides. Of course he has a pretty dick.

He runs his cock along your cunt, bumping the tip against your clit a few times before slowly pressing inside. He sets a steady pace, checking to make sure you're okay before increasing his speed. Before long, the room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping, and fuck, you’re a sight. Your face is flushed, with pretty tears streaming down your face, he can’t help but want a taste, tongue licking your tears before pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips, sucking your tongue into his mouth. He’s close, so fucking close, but he needs you to cum for him again.

“Cum f’me, baby. Cum for your champion.” And you do, your cunt clenched around his cock as you cum for a third time. You’re spent, but you want to feel him cum, want to feel him inside you during the show. You squeeze your cunt around him, eager to coax his orgasm from him. “Cum f’me, ‘Suki. Cum f’me, baby.” You know what the name does to him. Something so simple, yet so domestic just gets him ready to spill inside you. And he does, after a few more thrusts he’s cumming, the feeling of his seed filling you feeling so good, so warm.

You both stay connected for a moment, before you start to giggle. Bakugo’s head perks up at that, before joining you with a slight chuckle. “How long do you think before they realize we’ve been dating?” You ask, a dopey smile on your face. Katsuki kisses your cheek before answering, “I’d say a few weeks. You know I can’t keep my hands off you for too long. And now that I get to love on you in front of everybody, fuck yeah I’m gonna rub their noses in it.” You chuckle before pushing him off of you. “Alright, get me a towel. Show’s about to start.” “Yeah, you’ve got like 10 minutes.” “‘Suki!”

— —

Taglist: @xogabbiexo @kinq-sleazee @dabilovesme @sintiva @blkchxrryblyss @tenyaiidasslut @luna-indigoduh @bookwormsenpai @bl--ankhaeji @thicksimpx @namjoonswifeyy @nasty-quillz @haikyutiehoe @musicisme333 @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @celi-xxmoon

[kissitbttr]

i need to see her ask frat!miguel to get her a soda during the most important part of the game (they could be at a basketball or football game) frat!miguel would definitely miss the big goal/shot just for her!!

one thing about miguel that you have discovered, is the love he has for sports and its entertainment.

whether it’d be football, rugby, basketball, etc, you can always count on him to tuning in. he follows sports news on his socials, keeping an eye on every single thing. each day, he finds a new hyperfixation for him to indulge in.

even a month after you and him got together, he took the time to learn what cheerleading is about and added the sport in one of his list. miguel even mentioned one time that he wanted to try out just for fun. he thinks cheerleading is fucking awesome

and like any typical boys you have ever encountered in campus, he tends to get extremely defensive and competitive. especially when he’s betting with the rest of his frat brothers. like the time during super bowl a few months back.

he doesn’t ever want to be bothered. not by anyone. if you see him focusing on the game then please, don’t waste your breathe and try to poke fun at him. he will not let you live another day after that.

however…

“thank you for coming with me, muñeca” he kisses you on the cheek, the moment you two have found your seats. “i know this isn’t your thing so i’m grateful”

with a smile, you two plop down as miguel has his arm around your waist just to keep you safe. “no need to thank me, baby. it’s the least i could do for all of those times you’ve stay put during my cheer practice—for hours”

“gotta keep an eye on those punks who keep their hands on you. don’t like it when i see them touching what’s mine”

“it’s cheerleading, miguel” you giggle at his sudden possessiveness, feeling his hand tugging your thighs to lay them over his lap in which you oblige. “they have to touch me. how am I supposed to be up in the air if they don’t carry me, hm?”

he shrugs,“i could join the team. so i’ll be the one who lifts you up rather than those guys”

you laugh at his response. “oh? and you’re okay with the boys make fun of you then?”

“as if that scares me” he smiles at you with another shrug. “it’s for you anyway, not them. you’re my girl”

the little girl inside of you is squealing too damn loud and you try so hard to suppress the giggles. but it seems like he takes a notice at how warm your cheeks look like to him, which causes miguel to smile even wider,

“i am so in love with you” you peck his lips before the two of you are focusing back on the game that’s about to start.

halfway through the game, you see from the corner of your eye how focused your boyfriend is at the moment. each time the team he’s rooting for scores, he cheers so loudly like the rest of the crowd making you giggle.

seeing him get so happy and zoned in is so damn cute.

“baby?” you lean a bit to the side so he could hear you better,

“yeah?” he responds, fingers circling your thigh since he’s still eyeing the game in front of him.

it’s his way of telling that he pays attention to you.

with a smile, you rest your cheek against his shoulder, blinking up at him in a cute manner. “would you get me a cherry cola from the stall, please?”

you’re not doing it on purpose, you swear (you are). you just like to poke fun at him sometimes during important moments of the game, since he gets pretty sensitive when someone is messing up his focus during matches. you like to find out if he gets upset with you about that.

“sure. be right back” he grins at you, kissing your cheek which makes you look at him with a baffled expression. though you make no mistake in hearing your heart beat just somehow skips a bit faster,

as he about to get up, his eyebrow quirks at seeing your expression. “what?”

“w-why—“ you stutter a bit, shaking your head. “you really going?”

“uhm? yeah?” he’s confused now. is he not supposed to? “why are you looking at me like that?”

“nothing! it’s just” you stop for a moment to smile just a bit and see miguel’s ruby eyes looking intensely into yours as if he’s searching for something wrong. “i didn’t think you would say yes considering it’s the penalty and you wouldn’t wanna miss it…”

hearing that just makes him scoff and roll his eyes, but he mirrors your smile afterwards. “mi amor, they record the whole thing. i could watch the playback when it gets uploaded on the web. it’s fine” he answer, kissing one of your hand that’s intertwined with his,

“i know but—“ you sigh dreamily at your perfect boyfriend with all of his perfect answers. “you hate it when the guys bothers you”

“i’m not dating my frat brothers, i’m dating you, am i?” he chuckles, kissing the crown of your head. “i’ll get that cherry cola and truffle fries for us to share and—oh, or maybe you prefer hot dog, muñeca?”

you love him so much it hurts

—

miguel is so freaking whipped, i’m going to cry🥹🫶🏻💗

[yjunluvr]

Date Night With Bf!Yeonjun

pairings: bf!yeonjun x f!reader

genre: one-shot, fluff, established relationship

synopsis: you and your boyfriend Yeonjun stay-in for a movie night date where you guys make pizza and bake lots of sweets and just enjoy each other’s company

warnings: super sweet, teeth rotting, delusional type of fluff, light kissing, suggestive language, flirty/silly yeonjun which may make you swoon too heavily

Word Count: 1,457

Proofread

a/n: This is my first ever one-shot, so please be nice. 🥺 I just love thinking about bf!yeonjun and how romantic he would be during a stay-in movie night. ( Yeonjun calls reader beautiful, baby, my girl)

Yeonjun and you haven't had a date night in a while, so you decided tonight would be the night you guys watch a movie at your apartment. Due to all the stress that comes with work, both of you agreed you needed a break.

Right now, you're in the kitchen kneading some pizza dough. Yeonjun knows you love pizza, so he decided you'd make pineapple pizza for dinner tonight followed by some sweets because he knows you're a sweet tooth.

Yeonjun stands behind you while you're in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as he helps you knead and stretch the dough.

He’s telling you sweet things, like how beautiful you look tonight, and how much he loves you, and you're throwing compliments back at him. You two are giggling and enjoying each other's company.

Yeonjun, being the playful and silly boyfriend that he is, took some flour that remained on his hands and smeared it on your nose.

YEONJUNNN" you say, dragging out his name sarcastic and light, giggling as he chuckles into your ear, gently swaying you side to side in his arms.

"As if you couldn't get cuter, you make flour look good on you" he says, as you blush at his words.

Once you finished adding pork, pickled onions, and a sweet and tangy BBQ sauce to the pineapple pizza, Yeonjun put it in the oven.

Turning around from putting the pizza in the oven, he saw you had a focused look on your face and your pouty lips were sticking out slightly, your eyebrows scrunched up, as you hummed a tune to yourself, as you were placing the dough for the chocolate chip cookies on the tray.

He leaned against the counter smiling and watching you with awe and admiration. His eyes sparkling with love.

You looked so relaxed and happy in this state, and he loved seeing you like this. Yeonjun loves you more than anyone, as he watches you lovingly. He wondered how he got so lucky.

Seeing you in your zone, he slowly sneaks up behind you and swoops you up in his arms, as you squeal in surprise. “Yeonjun! Put me down” you say, giggling.

Leave to Yeonjun, to always leave you on the edge of your toes every time you guys are together. When you guys are together, there's never a dull moment. You always have butterflies when Yeonjun surprises you with romantic gestures.

After Yeonjun carries you through the kitchen, he heads to the living room, where he has set up the most romantic scene for you. You gasp, your eyes slightly watering over the immense amount of emotions coursing through your veins looking at what he did for you.

Your face lights up as he notices how you smile. "Are you happy with what I did with the place?" He asks as he gently places you down on the couch, planting a gentle kiss on your nose followed by a gentle kiss on your lips, which you reciprocate.

You could see candles scattered around the place, making the moment even more romantic and special. Yeonjun also laid out matching blankets on the armrests of the couch for you guys to use. The coffee table in front of you had a bowl of popcorn and a few bags of sour candies. “Yeonjun!”, you looked at him endearingly. “You spoil me too much” you tell him.

His hands slowly reach for your face, your noses touching, then breaking away slightly, as he caresses your cheeks with his thumb. He begins to plant sweet kisses all over your face, engulfing you tight and comfortingly. Making you giggle again at the ticklish sensation. “My girl deserves to be spoiled because she is beautiful, and she works hard.”, he states.

Suddenly the oven goes off and you both jump for joy that the food is finally ready, both your stomachs growling. You start to get up with him to help bring the food over, but he then stops you. You look at him with a quizzical look on your face. “What’s wrong?”, you ask him.

“Nothing, it’s just that I want my pretty girl to sit prettily, and relax. I will go grab the food you stay here.”, He says smiling down at you, giving you his beautiful smile that you love so much.

You roll your eyes in a playful manner at his cheesy remark, but you allow it, knowing that even if you tried to defy him you would lose in the end.

Yeonjun, soon came back with the chocolate chip cookies, and the delicious pizza you guys made together. Setting it down, Yeonjun takes out his phone and takes a picture of the cute set up. He then turns the camera to you, posing at the camera for a selfies calling your attention, “Smile for me, baby” he says as he snaps a picture of you both of you together.

In the picture, Yeonjun had leaned into the side of your face and planted a kiss on your cheek as he snapped the photo of you both; your smile making his heart swell.

Giving it a look, he turns the screen over to you showing yourself as you see yourself blushing and smiling so happily. “All these years together and I still manage to make you as red as a tomato.”, he teases giving you a wink.

Grabbing one of the soft pillows on the couch you swat him with it on his arm a couple times playfully, trying to hide the even deeper shade of red forming on your face.

“Yeonjunnn” you whine trying to cover your face. “I love it when you say my name, baby” flirts with you again, chuckling. Once finished taking a selfie, he put his phone down on the coffee table and sat back down with you, throwing his arms over your shoulders and wrapping them around you, and pulling you in closer to him.

His fingers then began to rub and massage light, soothing circles on the back of your nape, as he leans in and kisses you on the top of your head, relieving you of the tension you have been holding from a stressful workload in your neck and lower back. “You smell nice.”, kissing your shoulder, he murmurs it into your ear, giving you goosebumps from the raspiness of his voice, deep and sultry.

Yeonjun, knew how much his voice had an effect on you, so he sometimes, more than often, liked to tease you.

Eventually, after a while of listening to his abundant words affirmation, which you obviously enjoyed very much, you started to wonder if you guys were ever going to even start the movie you guys had picked for movie night.

The thing about your movie nights with Yeonjun is that, he’s always whispering sweet nothings in your ears, and kissing you so much that you guys never get to the end of the movie. Yeonjun being to distracting and hot and all. You had no doubt that his love language is physical tongue and words of affirmation.

However, you guys like to try and challenge yourselves, hoping that this time you guys would be able to watch a whole movie the whole way through. And so, you guys finally settle on watching 13 Going On 30, one of your guys favorite romantic comedy.

As the beginning credits of the movie started to roll you both start to nestle up closer to each other, grabbing the matching blankets that he had set out for you two to use.

Splaying the blankets over both your legs as both your legs are stretched out on the couch, you guys intertwin your legs together, and cuddle up closer. Yeonjun, then grabs your hand, intertwining them with his and brings your knuckles to his lips and kisses the back of your hand.

“ I love you, Y/N.” He says. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life.” He continues, making your heart swell. You then look at him, returning the love back to him. “ I love you too, Yeonjun, thank you for making this night so perfect, and thank you for being amazing all the time.” You tell him, giving him the praise that he deserves.

Leaning in, he begins to kiss you again, taking your breath away with a breathless kiss, and in that moment, as the movie drifted to the back of your minds, all that you guys cared about in that moment was each others embrace and presence.

In that moment, you both knew that you guys would definitely not be making it to the end of the movie, and Yeonjun made sure of it. 😉

_____________________________________________

A/N: OH MY GODDD AS IF I COULDN’T HAVE MADE MYSELF ANYMORE DELUSIONAL OVER YEONJUN 😭😭