#i will say that the kit i had to wear was AWFUL

[shit-talker]

When Soap retires from the army, he ends up getting a job coaching a little kids' gaelic football team and he takes this shit so fucking seriously.

He coaches the under 10s team, which means that it's still mixed boys and girls, but he gets those kids so enthusiastic about everything. The local community around the club he trains for absolutely love him because A, he's really good with all the kids and B, its extremely funny to see a large man yell after little kids and be so invested in this sport.

He does swear at the kids, though, like all the time. He will call the opposing team wee shites and will call his own team little pricks. He's been told again and again that no, John, you can't call these kids little pussies but he doesn't listen. It encourages them and makes them laugh.

He had an assistant once, a teenager who took on the role for work placement for about a week and by the end of it she just looked at him and went "How the fuck do you do this everyday??" And Soap laughed in her face and said something like, "These kids are so much better than the cadets I used to train," and thats how everyone finds out that Soap uses the same techniques on these 9 year olds that he did on army cadets and suddenly it makes sense why his team all salute him in a straight line before a match.

[nikibogwater]

Actually while I'm thinking about it, I just wanna say that the more live-action remakes Disney shlups out like shoveled manure, the more amazed I am that Cinderella (2015) exists. It breaks literally every standard of Disney's LA remakes.

It's not a shot-for-shot remake of the original 1950 animated film, though it does include small references and homages to it, but only when such things can be incorporated organically into the story.

The creators understood and respected the cross-cultural significance of the Cinderella story. They didn't want to "fix" it, or add some wacky twist to it, they just wanted to make the best possible version of the Quintessential Cinderella that they could.

Everything that could be done practically was done practically. The carriage was a real, the horses pulling it were real, and all of the other animals (with the exception of the mice and lizards, since their performance was a lot more involved than the others') were real living animals, the lizard footman and goose carriage driver were wearing prosthetics instead of just having their animal features added in post, the Fairy Godmother's dress had little LED lights sewn into it so that it would actually glow for real, the ballroom set was built by hand and included real chandeliers with more than 2000 total candles that were all actually lit for the scene, and I could go on but you get the point.

There's a ton of attention paid to little details that make the world feel real and lived in. Ella's shoes are always a little scuffed and dirty. Her farm dress is faded and wrinkled. When she breaks down and runs away to the woods, she rides her horse bareback (which, once again, was a thing Lily James actually did, no stunt-double or editing in post), because not only is that something a country girl like her would know how to do, but it also makes sense that with as upset as she is, she wouldn't want to waste time with saddling the horse. When she's dancing with the prince, it's visually obvious that he is leading her and giving her cues because of course Ella wouldn't know the latest ballroom dances, and would need him to guide her through it.

Hey speaking of dancing, y'know what else this movie does that no other LA remake has been allowed to do (at least not to this extent)? ROMANCE. Land sakes alive, this is one of the most unabashedly and yet still tastefully romantic movies I've ever seen. Ella and Kit are just oozing romantic chemistry from the moment they lock eyes for the first time. It all comes down to the fact that these two characters both have the same core values of courage and kindness, which makes their admiration for each other feel grounded and believable. Richard Madden also really sells Kit's feelings for Ella with the way his eyes go all big and soft whenever he looks at her. And don't even get me started on Lily's performance as Ella. Her quiet awe that someone as powerful as the prince loves her. The timidity and fear that she's not really worthy of that. The selfless determination to protect him from her family's cruelty, even if it means she'll never see him again, I'm just-- *banging my fist against the table and screaming into a pillow*

Absolutely god-tier costume design. No notes, I think Sandy Powell's work speaks for itself. Btw, in case you were somehow still wondering, yes, Ella's ballgown is fully practical--those layers upon layers of dreamy silk skirts are real. CG was only used to brighten up the blue color to make her stand out from the crowd more.

Wicked stepmother was allowed to actually be wicked. The movie never tries to make you sympathize with Lady Tremaine, or shift the blame off to someone else. And her villainy is given an extra layer of depth with the reveal that she is a dark reflection of Ella. They've both lost people they loved, but where Ella refused to let her grief get in the way of kindness, Lady Tremaine became utterly consumed by it. She views the death of her first husband as a sort of twisted justification for pursuing all her worst impulses. She despises Ella for her ability to flourish even while enduring terrible suffering, for being everything Lady Tremaine was either unable or flat-out refused to be.

Also Cate Blanchet absolutely SLAYS in this role. Hands-down my favorite portrayal of the wicked stepmother character.

Anyways, TLDR: Cinderella (2015) is the only Disney live-action remake that can justify its own existence and that's because it actively defies everything the LA remakes are today.

[purinfelix]

FELLOW FRANCO LOVERS RISE!!

Ok I’m not good at making requests but I think it would be cute if one of the interviewers wears an Argentina jersey and Franco is blushing and yapping in the media pen (and then he posts about it a million times like his handshake w Lewis)

good journalism ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ - franco colapinto

a/n: YES FRANCO LOVERS JOIN MEE i honestly love writing fics for this flirty little shit pls send more requests like this one eee it was so cute w/c: 922

It's all for the sake of good journalism.

At least, that's what you kept telling yourself - and all the other interviewers who were questioning why you were sporting an Argentina kit to a race that was being held in Singapore. Watching, buried in a hoard of other photographers and journalists, the race drew to a close and suddenly the crowd around you sprung into action. As drivers started trickling in, with tired expressions - some happy, others not, you resigned yourself to waiting. It was pretty clear you were only here for one.

He spots you as soon as he enters the media area, even though you're concealed by about a dozen other people. You watch as his eyes light up at the sight of the familiar blue and white fabric and he beelines towards you, ignoring the sound of others calling his name.

"Hello," he says, breathlessly with a beaming smile - you chalk the flush in his cheeks up to having just finished a race.

"Hi!" you spring immediately into interview mode, listing off question after question about the race. He answers them all as earnestly as he can, and the entire time you're watching him with an awe-struck look. The clamour and sound of camera flashes around you are drowned out as the two of you talk, and before you realise it you've forgotten you're conducting an interview and not just having a conversation.

"Well that's all the questions I had prepared, good job out there today, you did amazing!" you say, fully aware that you're gushing at this point but you're relieved when he offers you an earnest smile.

"Nice shirt," he points out, and you realise suddenly how keen he is to keep talking. You laugh, a little shy at being so openly acknowledged.

"I knew you'd like it!"

"Who's on the back?" he asks curiously and you turn around to show him, "Ah, Lionel of course, a woman after my own heart." You chuckle softly as he places a hand over his chest. There's a beat of silence when you honestly think he's about to leave but then he leans in a little closer.

"Blue looks good on you, maybe a Williams shirt next time?" He says it so casually it takes you a while to take in what he's saying - and to realise how boldly he's flirting with you.

"Ah," you let out, though it's more of a gasp than words, "I'll have to talk to your merch department about that."

"I'll be waiting," he beams, giving you a sly little nod before disappearing back into his garage. It's only once he's gone do you realise how sore your cheeks are from smiling non-stop. Letting out a shaky breath, slightly overwhelmed by how well that interaction went, you turn around to snake your way back through the crowd. You try to avoid eye contact with anyone but the other camerapeople only smile at you knowingly, and you can only hope some of them got good enough photos for you to remember this moment by.

It's only once you get back to your hotel room and open up your phone do you realise just how many pictures had been taken of the two of you - and how many of them were far better than 'good enough'. In one the two of you are deep in conversation, your brows furrowed in a frankly un-flattering way, him as perfect as ever. In another, you're both laughing, about what you're not entirely sure, but just looking at the photo makes your heart flutter. Your favourite by far though, is one where you're looking down at your notebook trying desperately to remember the questions you had wanted to ask him. There's a childish pout at your lips that you cringe at - but what makes it your favourite is the look on Franco's face as he watches you, cheeks flushed as his lips curl subtly at the corners.

You don't seem to be alone in this opinion either - at least, that's what you've deduced from the half a dozen times Franco has posted it. Clicking through his stories, you're taken aback by the fact that he posted more about your interaction than him scoring points - the photo of the two of you even becomes the cover of his post dedicated to the weekend. Looking at the post you're not even bothered by the hundreds and hundreds of comments speculating what's going on between you two. Instead, your attention is captured by the caption he's added to it - "A race weekend to remember, for more reasons than one."

It's a little corny, and you let out a soft chuckle as you scroll through the rest of his page shamelessly, though you're sure not to like any of his posts for fear of letting on too much. The two of you spoke once, and if you're being completely honest you're a little embarrassed to still be thinking about him at this moment.

Just as you're about to set your phone down though, it chimes with. a notification that makes your eyes widen - a follow request from none other than the man of the hour. The rational part of you begins questioning how he managed to find your profile or the professional concerns of a journalist and driver following each other. These concerns however do little to slow you down as you race to hit accept because at that moment the only thing you can think about is one thing - that he's thinking of you too.

[imaginaryf1shots]

Teacher | Max Verstappen

WC: 2.1K

Max x teacher!reader

summery: (REQUESTED) Just moments of you being a teacher during the week and a WAG during the weekend.

Warning: None

Masterlist

Max Masterlist

Who would've known, there was no way anyone would have predicted it. But Max Verstappen, 3 time World Champion is in a relationship with a school teacher. How you stumbled upon the Red Bull driver is something unknown to the public. Working in Monaco certainly gave people ideas, but no one knew that Max's 'rival' Charles introduced the two of you. Charles couldn't have known how attached you two will be, and he LOVES to take credit for it. Here you are happily together. There's a soft side to Max that's only brought out with you.

The fans all just love you, you're always seen interacting with kids around the paddock, giving away signed hats and getting bracelets that Max wouldn't wear otherwise. And yes, he wears them for a few minutes enough for a few pictures before taking them off, but that's the only way he'll do it. For you. Want Max to do something? Better get y/n then. During the school year you come to a race once a month maybe twice, if a race is close to Monaco, school is out for one reason or the other, you're in the paddock.

It was a week off for Max, meaning he's back in Monaco. A time where he likes to spend time with you. So he takes the chance of going to your job when you tell him it's a profession day. People who have different professions will all come to the school and explain what they do to the kids. Some parents would be coming and Max volunteered himself. When you brought up the idea with the school they jumped at the idea. Monaco loves Formula one drivers, and what a better driver to have than the reigning world champion. There was a Camera set up in the corner of the room behind the kids to capture everything.

Max texts you when he arrives, you planned to go meet him, but before you could do that, he comes into your classroom. Being led by your enthusiastic Principle. Once Max walks into the room, there are gasps from the children, their eyes going wide in awe and wonder. Parents all murmur and whisper to each other. Max is thankfully not dressed in his Red Bull team kit, you were afraid he'd do that. Like a good boyfriend, he wore the outfit you had left for him in the closet.

"Thank you so much for coming." You tell Max as you give him a quick hug in greeting, you usually leave earlier while he's home, he sleeps after you after all.

"No worries." Max kisses your cheek quickly, you turn to the classroom and clap your hands once.

"Okay, class, who knows who this is?" You ask with a smile. There's shouting and moving around as they scream his name in their cute accents. "That's right, this is Max Verstappen, now what does Max do?"

"he's a formula 1 driver!"

"He drives for RedBull."

"He's the world champion!"

"He's your boyfriend!"

The last one takes you by surprise, some of the parents laugh and you join them.

"Okay, how about we let Max tell us about his job." You say and step aside for your boyfriend to take centre stage and have all the attention on him.

"Thank you miss y/l/n." Max says with a wink your way. It takes everything in you to not blush. "I'm Max Verstappen, I drive for Red Bull Racing, and I'm the current world champion. I've always known what I wanted to do, but it's alright if you don't have many drivers get into karting when they're older. Being a Formula 1 driver requires you to be smart, work hard and train a lot. You have to be consistent, it's not easy but if you want to do something then you have to work and study hard for it."

"Okay, any questions? Who wants to ask Max questions like journalists?" You asked after Max was done talking, many hands raised up to ask. "Max, why don't you pick your interviewer."

"How about..." Max looked around at the classroom, seeing a shy hand raised in the air, looking at the girl, he smiled. "You?"

"Me?" She asked timidly, Max nodded and said yes. "Um, can girls be drivers too?"

"Of course, girls can be anything they want to be." Max answered truthfully, "There are a lot of girls who are in lower formulas, and on their way to Formula 1, in Karting there are a lot of girls as well, Miss y/l/n, used to Kart a little when she was young."

"Wah, really?"

"Did you miss y/l/n?"

"Why did you stop?"

"Okay, settle down, I did kart a little, but it was only a hobby." You tell the children, giving Max a look for exposing you like that. "Besides, if I continued karting, who would be here teaching you?”

"I bet you would beat them all Miss y/l/n." One of the girls exclaimed and many agreed with her. The kids went on asking questions to Max, at one point you brought out hats, and one by one the kids came out for their hats to be signed and a quick picture, before Max took a picture with the class.

The principal was standing in your class while you went to say goodbye to Max. "You were amazing, thank you so much."

"It's nothing schatje, anything for you." Max said and pressed a quick kiss to your lips, his hand on your lower back. "I'll see you at home."

Let's say when the videos taken on that day hit the school website and Instagram, the Formula 1 side of the internet went up in flames. Everyone was losing their minds over it. Redbull even took some of the videos and pictures and posted it to their social media. And you were the coolest teacher to ever exist.

By the time the Monaco GP rolled around, Red Bull arranged with the school to have some of your students to come on Friday, you and two three other teachers would be with them. All parents agreed for their children to be on camera, which Red Bull was happy about. Someone came and took you guys from the gates, the kids were looking at everything in marvel, in awe. Each of the teachers was responsible for 5 kids. You were in your teacher mood, not WAG mode for the day.

"Come on Kids stay together." You told the children and kept an eye on them, the walk to Red Bull wasn't long, thankfully. Getting into the hospitality, you were happy to see that the team converted one of the areas to accommodate the kids, and have them in one space, with only one entry and exit.

"We'll have them get to the garage, five at a time, we have some activities for them to do while they wait and free practice to start, between Max and Checo will come and talk to them." The marketing manager told you and you nodded along with her.

You decided to let the other teachers go to the garage first, you've been there before more times than you could count. By the time it was your group's turn they were giddy, just about to burst from how excited they were. "Walk in one line everyone, remember not to touch anything and not to bother anyone."

"Yes, miss y/l/n." They all said in unison. One of the mechanics was waiting for you with a smile on his face. He gave the kids a tour explaining everything to them, showed them the car, and pointed out the wings, and a few things about it. He explained how there's two sides to the garage but still it's one team and had one goal.

"Is this Max's car?" One of the kids asked, pointing at the car with the number 1 on it.

"Yes it is." It was Max who answered, he was dressed in his team kit, hat on and everything. "Do you want to sit inside?"

They all jumped up and down screaming yes. And so one by one, the kids were placed in the cockpit. They could barely see anything with how short they were, but they were excited nonetheless.

"Miss y/l/n, it's your turn." One of the boys looked up at you.

"Oh no, it's about you guys today, not me." You said and the kids all started begging you and Max and the people around for you to get in the car. "Kids come on, it's oka-ah." Hands around your waist pulled you up, your hands landed on Max's shoulder, legs bent as he moved you over the halo. "Max!" You playfully glare at Max and the kids, they all had proud smiles on their faces. You sit down in the car, it's a different feeling and view being in the car. "Maybe I should've continued karting."

"NO! you're our teacher!" One of the kids shouted.

“I feel like I have competition.” Max said and you laughed. Getting out of the car had Max helping you over the halo. His hands linger on your waist before he lets you go.

The kids watched FP1 and FP2 on the TV, they saw the car go by through the windows, Max and Checo made an appearance, the kids asked questions, took photos with the drivers in their suites. And had a small pitlane walk. By the time you were back at the school for the parents to come pick up the kids, you were dead. This was more tiring than the normal racing week and it’s only Friday.

Max is already at home, he showered and changed. “Hey, I got food on the way.”

“You didn’t eat.” You placed your work bag by the door, the cats are all over them. You walk into the living room to where Max sat. 

“I did, But I bet you didn’t.” Max says and you give him a tired smile, Max takes your hand in his intertwining your fingers.

“You’re an angel, I’ll take a quick shower.” Max lets you go, watching you trudge through the apartment and to  the bedroom. He goes around and lights up your favourite candles, and closes all the unnecessary lights. Giving the room a cosy and calming mood.  You come out of the shower just as the food arrives.

“Something smells good.” You say coming out of the bedroom, in shorts and one of Max’s shirts, your hair towel dried and left down.

“Got your favourite.” Max tells you and you plop down on the sofa next to him, he moves the coffee table closer so you could eat from your spot. “How was today?”

“So tiring, nothing compared to a normal day in school, I can never understand how they can have this much energy.” You say opening the containers.

“But they were happy, right?” Max asked you, feeling unsure, you grinned.

“So freaking happy, god max, you made their year, honestly.” You say and take a bite of your food and moan. “That’s all they’ll be talking about for the rest of the year.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence as you eat, and Max just watched you. His hand runs up and down you back softly, absentmindedly.

“Can’t wait to have some of our own.” Max says, and even he looks surprised by his sudden words. “It’s just seeing you with kids, makes me imagine you one day holding our own kids, playing with them, you’ll be an amazing mum one day.”

“Are you trying to make me cry while I eat?” You ask him and slowly chew the last of the food in your mouth, waving your hand in front of your eyes to try and stop the tears from gathering.

“I’m just telling you the truth.” Max smiles softly as he watches you, you swallow and turn to look at him.

“Well if we’re being honest, you should know that I have the biggest baby fever lately.” You tell him and intertwin your fingers with his. “Seeing YOU with kids makes me want to have your babies so bad, can’t wait until I have a mini Max’s running around.”

“I want mini y/ns running around.” Max says and you both smile at each other. “Wamma practice?”

“What?” You’re confused. Practise what? Raising kids?

“Practise making kids.” Your eyes hold his in a steady gaze as you realise what he meant.

“Hmm, I would definitely be up to some practice.” You say and Max gets up and pulls up after him. You’re giggling as you race through the house, the cats look up from their sleeping spots before falling asleep once more.

Main Tag-list:

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03 . @schniti-is-in-the-house . @lottalove4evelyn . @eywas-heir . @glow-ish .

[swarvey]

how they react to you getting hurt | sdv x g/n reader (part two)

part one

paper rings - harvey x reader

a/n: part two with the rest of the bachelors ! let me know if you guys want to see the bachelorettes <3

—

alex

this big softie starts to blame himself when he sees you with scratches and bruises

insists on following you on your adventures from that day forward

pretty much acts as a personal bodyguard for a week

you wince as you rub a disinfectant pad on the large scratch on the side of your arm, thankful your husband isn't due to be home for another couple of hours. he worries enough about you as is — the last thing he needs is something to feed his paranoia, as cute as it is. just as you're about to apply some ointment on your arm, you hear the front door open, alex's familiar voice ringing through the house.

"baby, i'm home!" he calls out, voice as bright as ever. you hear your pet pattering over to greet him. "aw, hey buddy! where's y/n, huh? have you seen 'em?" you swear under your breath as your pet betrays you, leading alex straight towards the bedroom. "are you in there, honey? grams didn't need as much help as i thought—"

you hear him suck in a sharp breath at the sight of you and the first aid kit spread out across the bed.

"i'm fine," you assure. he ignores you, eyes glued to your injured arm as he makes his way to the bed. "seriously, it's not even that bad."

"here, let me do it," he says, and you swear you've never heard him speak so softly. blinking in shock, you hand the bottle of ointment over to him, watching as he gently begins to apply it.

"alex, you're scaring me a bit," you half-joke. he's never been one to be so silent. "it's okay—"

"it's not, though!" your eyes widen as alex looks at you with gleamy eyes. "see, i knew you'd get hurt one day, and i still let you go off and do all these things alone. i should've been there to help you." his head bows in shame, and your heart breaks. "i'm sorry. i'll be by your side next time, i promise."

shaking your head, you wrap your unhurt arm around his neck and pull him into a hug. he gladly hides his face in your shoulder, his arms holding onto your midsection tightly.

"alex, there's nothing to be sorry for," you reassure, rubbing his back to provide some comfort. "this is part of my job, it's what i signed up for." he pulls away suddenly to look at you with serious eyes.

"then quit!" he exclaims. "i'll do it all, you can teach me."

you laugh. "as much as i love you, you are not taking over my grandfather's farm."

"well, i'll just do everything with you, then." alex nods to himself, grabbing the roll of bandages from the kit and beginning to wrap your arm. his eyes widen when he notices the bruises on your legs. "how did this even happen?"

"oh, i was gathering hardwood and some slimes snuck up on me. i fell, but i was able to fight them off." no response. "alex?" a dark look comes over your husband's face.

"get me a sword."

"what?!"

sebastian

seb is one of the bachelors i see respecting your strength the most, always subtly bragging about your fighting skills and the work you do on the farm (sam and abigail are thoroughly impressed)

that being said, he is all the more startled when he sees you limping home from the clinic after nearly passing out from exhaustion

tries to keep his cool, as he always does, but it's hard for him to see the person he cares about the most in pain

"wear the brace for a week, then stop by for another appointment with me so we can see how you're doing," harvey instructs, clasping the brace around your ankle. "drink plenty of water and eat something when you get back. and be mindful while you're working on the farm, i don't want this to be a regular occurrence," he chides.

the doctor had practically dragged you into his office after running into you in front of pierre's, half-conscious as you claimed you just needed some coffee.

"i will," you sigh, using his arm for support as you stand. "thanks, harvey. i owe you."

"no need to worry about that, just get some rest at home. i'm sure sebastian is wondering where you are."

shit. you chew your lip as you slowly make your way back to the farm, trying to find the right words to say to your husband. it's not like you to overwork yourself like this on the farm, but after waking up a bit too late in the morning, you'd found yourself rushing to get everything done. seb had been sound asleep as you worked, but with the sun beginning to set in the sky, you knew he had to be up and waiting for you at home.

sure enough, as you walk towards your front door, you see him already sitting on the front steps, a book in hand. his head quickly turns at the sound of your footsteps.

"you're back! did you have errands to run?" seb asks, setting his book down. "i thought you had a lot to do this morning?"

you hesitate, nodding slowly as you avoid his gaze. "i did," you answer, swallowing. "i was, ah, at the clinic."

"what? why—?" only then does he notice the bags under your eyes and the brace wrapped around your ankle. "hey, what happened?" he walks over to your side, slowly guiding you to the steps and helping you sit down.

"i'm alright," you say, though you unsuccessfully hide your discomfort as you stretch your hurt ankle out. "i twisted my ankle, is all."

"right." you know sebastian well enough to tell when he's worrying; his brow is furrowed, his eyes glued to the ground.

"come on, seb, don't be so dramatic," you joke, shoving him lightly with your shoulder. "it's not like i'm dying." he looks at you suddenly with squinted eyes, as if he's trying to decode your words. "what?"

"people tend to say that when things are worse than they are," he says, looking you up and down. "what really happened?"

"what are you talking about?"

"maybe i'll go talk to harvey." he begins to stand, but you grab his wrist and drag him back down.

"okay, okay!" the last thing you want is for him to take the doctor's words too seriously and put you on a house lockdown. "i just overworked myself in the heat, alright? seriously! harvey said i should be fine with some rest."

"really? that's all?"

"yes."

"all you hurt was your ankle?"

"yes."

"did you set up another appointment with him?"

"yes, seb, i'm fine!" you grab his arm and pull him closer, looking straight into his worried eyes. "look, see? i'm in one piece."

sebastian sighs, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly. "i know, you've always been strong," he says, smiling lightly. "just . . . don't overdo it, okay? i'm here to help you, too."

you smile back at him. "i know." you pause. "you know, harvey said i need to lay off the rest of my work today."

"yeah?" seb grins, helping you stand. "what are you thinking?"

you pretend to ponder for a moment. "maybe some dinner and TV? we still have that show we need to catch up on."

he laughs, wrapping an arm around you as the two of you head inside.

"whatever you want, dear."

sam

he thinks you're invincible.

completely freaks out when he sees you actually hurt for the first time

makes you spend the rest of the day in bed and brings you some of his mom's food

(claims it has healing powers)

the sun is still high in the sky when you leave the mines. your plan had been to spend the whole day gathering resources, but after a rough tousle with some monsters, you don't have the energy to keep going. your head is throbbing, and you're mildly aware of the cut on your forehead that finally stopped bleeding.

you make your way across the farm and toward your house, and you can hear sam practicing on his skateboard. you hope you can avoid him, at least until you're able to clean up your injury.

as you open the front door, though, a loud creak fills the air, and you freeze. the sound of the skateboard stops.

"baby, is that you?" sam calls out, walking around to the front porch. you keep your back turned. "did you forget something?"

"uh, no! no, the mines were just a bit empty today, so . . ." you trail off. you turn your head away from him as sam tries to look at your face, but sigh in defeat when he cups your cheek and makes you face him.

immediately, his eyes widen. "you're hurt!"

"i'm fine—"

without another word, sam grabs your hand and drags you inside, bringing you into the bathroom. he spends the next few minutes tenderly cleaning the cut on your forehead, apologizing every time you flinch in pain. then, he brings you to your shared bedroom, covering you in the sheets and bringing you a mug of your favorite drink.

"stay here," he instructs, "i'll be right back." he turns to your pet, tail wagging as it sits at your bedside. "you're in charge while i'm gone, alright? make sure they stay put!" you laugh lightly as sam hurriedly leaves the house, hearing the sound of his skateboard rolling away. you let out a sigh, closing your eyes as you begin to fall asleep.

"baby, wake up."

your eyes open to the sound of your husband beside you once again, holding a bowl of steaming soup.

"i stopped by mom's to get some of her soup. you know i'm not the best cook," he admits, "but you need to eat something with lots of nutrients to get better."

you laugh lightly, gladly letting him feed you the first bite. the warmth of the soup makes you feel already a bit better.

"thank you, sam," you say, looking at him gratefully. "i don't know what i'd do without you."

"hey, shouldn't i be saying that?" he jokes, planting a kiss on your cheek. "here, eat up. you need all the strength you can get!"

after you finish eating, you begin to sit up, stretching your arms.

"hey, what are you doing?" sam questions, setting the bowl on your nightstand.

"i need to check on the animals one more time," you sigh, ignoring the ache in your arms. he scoffs, grabbing your arms and sitting you back down in bed.

"right, and just what kind of husband would i be if i let you do that?" he straightens his back and crosses his arms, smiling confidently. "leave it to me!"

"sam."

"yes, dear?"

"do you even know what you'd be checking for?"

he pauses, arms dropping. "right," he says, sighing. "i guess i don't." you laugh, standing back up but grabbing his hand.

"come on, you can be my assistant for tonight."

"yes!"

[lipglossanon]

Day 8

Kink: Spitting & Overstimulation

Pairing: Corrupt Cop!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, a slightly softer CC Leon (don’t ask me how it happened lmao), dirty talk, possessive Leon, spitting, overstimulation, praise, daddy kink, fingering, pussy slapping, multiple orgasms, squirting

not proofread

The night’s breezy, sending chills across your body and making you regret your choice of wearing a cute skirt to meet up with Leon at the local carnival. Surprisingly, the date has been sweet. He’s only touched your shoulders and lower back to guide you around the stalls and rides. 

You split a funnel cake and share a messy, powdered sugar flavored kiss afterwards. It’s enough to let your guard down, which is your second mistake of the night (after the fashion choice). It all starts with some people from out of town, a couple of guys who more than likely have had too much to drink. 

They say something to you, but you’re not paying attention. Leon is though. Leon’s head is always on a swivel when you’re out together. He leaves you standing next to the basketball game, hands clutching the plushie he just won you as he walks over to the pair. Your heart rate picks up, seeing the look on Leon’s face—nothing ever bodes well with that look. 

A group of teenagers stop in front of you, blocking the trio from view. Standing up on your tiptoes doesn’t help and you don’t really wanna move and have Leon be disappointed you didn’t listen to him. The teens shift and you see Leon walking back to you, bypassing the noisy group to stand in front of you again. 

Glancing down you see blood on his knuckles and you gasp.

“Are you okay?” You reach for his hand but he pulls away. 

“Of course,” he uses his clean hand to cup your chin, thumb smoothing across your skin. “Let’s head home so I can clean up.”

You nod, “Okay.”

His lips tic into a half smile, “Such a good girl.”

Heat sweeps through you and you bite your bottom lip, letting him wrap his arm around your shoulders and lead you out of the carnival grounds to his car. The ride back to your place is quiet save for the radio playing on low volume. You squeeze the plushie to your chest, eyes watching the landscape pass you by until he’s pulling up to your place. 

Once the door’s unlocked, Leon disappears into the guest bath to use the first aid kit tucked under the sink. You kick off your shoes and wander down the hall into your bedroom. Gently sitting the stuffed raccoon on your dresser, your shoulders drop, tension leaving your body now that you’re home.   

“Is this where you’re gonna keep him?” 

Leon’s thick arms wrap around your body, hugging you back against his chest. 

“Mmhmm,” you smile although he can’t see. “It looks cute here.”

“Sure does, sweetheart,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. “Know what else is cute?”

A breath hitches in your throat as he slips his hands down your body, one pulling up your skirt so he can run his other hand over your panty clad mound.  

“This soft pussy,” he groans, fingers delving underneath your panties to rub against your slit. “Cutest little pussy I’ve ever seen.”

He bites down on your neck and you mewl, hips rocking into his hand. Moving your hands behind you, you tangle them in his hair with a sigh. 

“Oh,” you pause, body stiffening, “how’s your hand?”

“Aw, are you worried?” He chuckles and it makes your skin prickle. “It’s fine, just a few cuts. Won’t stop me from playing with your hot cunt, pretty girl.”

Shivering, you whine and relax back against him. 

“That’s it,” he coos mockingly, “you like me taking care of you, huh? Yeah, you do.”

“Leon, please,” you whimper, slick filling the gusset of your panties. 

“Spoiled pussy,” he grunts. “Nothing but a spoiled little pussy.”

Three of his fingers sink knuckle deep into your drippy hole. You whimper and rock down against his hand. 

“But this is my spoiled pussy isn’t it, baby? She’s only crying so much cause daddy treats her so nicely.”

“Yes, yes, please, Leon,” you hiccup a whine, thighs trembling. 

“My pretty girl,” he sinks his teeth in your shoulder and you cry out, clamping down tightly on his fingers buried in your cunt. 

Curling the digits, Leon rubs against your g-spot, heightening your pleasure until it’s too much for your body to handle. He pulls his fingers out suddenly and your orgasm teeters on the edge before tapering off. Frustrated tears slip from your eyes as your cunt flutters around nothing. 

“Daddy, please, ‘m so close,” you moan softly, fingers tugging his hair.

He cups your throat with one hand, angling your head back onto his shoulder. 

“Open your mouth,” he growls, fingers tightening on your neck. 

Dropping your bottom lip, you loll your tongue out, heart pounding in your chest as arousal blazes through your veins. He laughs down at you. 

“Don’t have to tell you to swallow, do I, pretty girl?”

Not letting you answer, he spits down on your tongue, watching with dilated eyes as you swallow with a moan. He shakes his grip when he feels your throat bob against his hand. 

“Again.”

Your lips fall open eagerly and he drools a line of spit down into your mouth. Whining, you swallow down the saliva, mouth dropping back open without Leon saying anything. 

“Good girl,” he spits on your tongue one last time before manhandling you over to the bed. He pushes you down onto the mattress and shoves your skirt up, yanking your panties down and off. 

His hand comes down and smacks your clit, the flat of his fingers stinging in the best way. Your hips writhe, torn between wanting more of those rough slaps or reprieve from the sharp pleasure. Leon decides for you, gripping one of your hips and pressing down on the bone until you whine. Once you still your movement, he rains slaps down across your thighs and cunt, catching your clit with his fingertips. 

Crying out, you tangle your fingers in the sheets, leg muscles twitching and jumping. 

“God, look at this wet mess you’re making, baby,” he croons nastily. “Love getting this fat pussy slapped, don’t you?”

He lands a hard smack across your cunt and your whole body shudders, slick dripping from your hole to saturate the bed spread. His fingers part your pussy lips and he fucks the digits into your fluttering walls, scissoring you open before curling upwards to rub across your g-spot. 

“Leon, oh that’s so good,” you keen, head grinding back against the pillow. 

He fingerfucks your pussy fast and hard, thumb pressing against your clit to circle the swollen bud. With his fingers constantly rubbing the spongy spot at the front of your pussy, your orgasm winds higher and higher. 

“Soak my fingers, sweetheart,” he grins, eyes dragging up from your spread open pussy to your blown out gaze. “Show me how good it feels.”

He leans over your hip and spits, a hot glob of saliva dripping down over your clit that he rubs in with his thumb. That’s enough to push you completely over the edge. A low cry spills from your lips, toes curling while your body jerks as you cum. The wet sound of Leon fingering you through your orgasm meets your ears—the loud plap plap plapmakes you whine, cunt fluttering and milking his fingers even more. 

“Give me another, I know you can,” he goads, the pads of his fingers grinding against your g-spot. 

On the heels of your first orgasm, creeps the second. It doesn’t take as long as you think before your back bows off the bed, climax creating fireworks in your brain as you moan and whimper. Leon still doesn’t let up and the pleasure begins to become too much. He pins you down against the bed, roughly fucking his fingers into your sopping wet cunt. 

“Leon, I can’t—“ 

Your voice cracks, a sob breaking free as tears fill your eyes. 

“Please, daddy, s’too much.”

“One more,” he murmurs. “One more and you can rest.”

Openly crying, you nod, knowing that when he wrings out your next orgasm it’s going to make you pass out. Your cunt pulses at the thought and Leon groans, thumb rubbing your slippery clit. 

“C’mon, pretty girl, you can do it.”

He lets go of your hip and brings his hand down to pinch and lightly smack your clit. The pain is enough to trigger your third orgasm of the night, pussy squirting so much it soaks the bed and Leon’s arm. 

 “Fuck, good girl, that’s my good girl,” he hums, pleased as punch. “God, look at this messy fucking pussy.”

Blood rushes through your ears and your dazed eyes meet his before they flutter shut in empty bliss. 

[fangirl-dot-com]

what does mitch look like? like does she have a face claim?! and vito?? (i couldn’t tell which one was which in imola)

ok so here we go! - thank you to whoever asked for this!!

this was a tag worthy post I believe :)

face claim - Amal Clooney

Meet Michelle "Mitch" Walker - Y/n L/n's race engineer

She has been at Red Bull since 2020, but was an actual engineer for the cars. She graduated with a Masters in Engineering and interned under Adrian Newey. She is currently in her late-30's and not married.

She was a bit skeptical when she was told by Christian that she'd be a rookie's race engineer, but when she saw you and your times on the sim, she was hooked.

She can be seen wearing her favorite big sunnies during race weekends and carries her gray notebook everywhere she goes. As a part of a ritual, she always drinks an iced Americano before a race.

For future references, she stays Y/n L/n's race engineer until said racer retires. She will have served under two different team principals by the end of her carrier (but I'm not saying who the second is hehe).

no face claim - Italian, short beard, and a whole lot of love for Y/n

Meet Vito Accardi - Y/n L/n's manager

Vito had been a part of an organization of people who lend out unofficial managers to younger racers who don't already have one. He was assigned to Y/n L/n in 2018 when she first joined F4. He, like most people, thought that she had raw talent and he wanted to stay with her.

Fast forward to 2019 and F3, Vito was officially Y/n L/n's manager, hired by her godfather Lorenzo. He has no plans to leave anytime soon.

He has a Public Relations Degree along with degree in Business. On the side, he runs his own line of go karts. He has mentioned that he was only able to start it due to the kindness of Y/n and Lorenzo.

For further references, Vito stays with Y/n until her retirement. After that, he ends up being asked to be godfather of her second child. Of course he agrees and tears are shed.

face claim - Brendan Taggart

Meet Lorenzo "Enzo" Alessandrino - Y/n L/n's Godfather

Lorenzo had been Y/F/N L/n's best friend growing up after meeting at boarding school, but distanced himself after he saw how awful he truly was. Only came back into his life after the birth of Y/n. Surprisingly, he was named godfather and he took that to heart.

Being a major business man and influential figure in karting and Formula racing, he couldn't possibly be near the girl all the time. But after finding out what you had been going through, he wishes that he would have fought for custody. Maybe then you could have grown up with other kids such as Logan Sargeant, Oscar Piastri, Mick Schumacher, and Arthur Leclerc. But, he couldn't dwell on the past.

Everyone thought he was pretty poor as he didn't like to flaunt his wealth everywhere, but they were wrong. Pretty much one of the wealthiest persons the time of his death.

Gave Y/n L/n a second chance at karting and formula racing as he fought for sponsors to agree on the younger girl (most said no due to age and gender, but he never gave up).

Late in 2019, he caught pneumonia, which turned into a fatal respiratory tract infection. He died in early 2020 after falling into a coma. The only person to ever show up was Y/n L/n

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19 @lizzypiastri

[fxrmuladaydreams]

Yay Oscars weekdnd, how about Getting engaged to oscar and then attending a race with your ring on ??

!! oscar weekend requests are now closed !!

Quiet but not private, that’s how you and Oscar liked to keep your relationship. It was hidden from the public for a little while, until he confessed that he really wanted you there with him during race weekends. Even then though, you kept your PDA to a minimum, holding his hand in the paddock and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before a race.

Of course there were a few others in tune with your relationship, Lando and Logan being good friends of Oscar’s had more knowledge about your relationship. They had even helped him plan out the engagement.

He kept it simple and quiet. He gathered a picnic basket’s worth of food and a soft blanket to lay out. He took you to a small field in a park and set everything up with nervous hands. The small box in his pocket felt like it weighed ten pounds. He grinned when he saw your reaction to the picnic, a wide smile on your face and a look of awe.

“Os, I love this.” You tell him softly. “I love you.”

Your memory of the picnic is a bit fuzzy. You remember Oscar seemed a little odd, a little reminiscent of the awkward boy you knew growing up. You remember the nervous look on his face when he pulled the ring box out of his pocket, and the laugh he let out when you threw your arms around him saying yes over and over again.

“You can’t say yes before I’ve asked you darling.” He smiles, clearly more relaxed knowing you want this as much as he does.

News spreads in your small group quickly, the two of you excited to share your news. Logan teases Oscar a bit, claiming it was stupid of him to think you’d say no.

You admire the ring everyday after that, waking up with his arms wrapped around you, and a symbol of his love on your finger.

“Good morning Mrs. Piastri.” He says, his accent thick from sleep.

“ ‘m not Mrs. Piastri yet. Soon though.” You smile as he nuzzles into you, hiding his face from the morning sun.

“Not soon enough.”

You have a discussion about what to do when it’s time for his next race weekend. Should you wear the ring? Should you even go?

Oscar swears he needs you there with him, and you can’t bear to slip the ring off your finger. You’ll wear it, but you won’t say anything about it to anyone.

Photos come out quickly during the weekend, a few of the drivers coming into the paddock, but one of the two of you sparks conversations everywhere.

Oscar is in his team kit, waving to fans, with you on his left side. He’s holding your right hand, leaving your left at your side, and no one can stop talking about the shiny band around your ring finger.

He’s swept away to his media duties, in which he’s bombarded with questions about his girlfriend and the ring on her finger.

“My fiancé.” He corrects them. “And yes, we are very excited to get married.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Shirt Swap

Pernille Harder x Child!Reader

Aitana Bonmatí x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Inspired by the fact that Aitana waited twenty minutes to exchange shirts with Pernille

There's a small girl in the mixed area, waiting by the doors of the Denmark side.

You wouldn't describe her as little because you're little but small seems suitable.

You watch her as she lingers by the door. She's dressed in the Spain kit and she looks a little anxious.

Momma let you go and get snacks from the vending machine so long as you came straight back, which you did, but you still find yourself staring at this little girl by the door.

You've got a packet of skildpadder in your hand. You've missed skildpadder so you're glad the vending machine had it.

The girl is still by your door so you huff and approach - adults are so weird sometimes.

"Hi."

She jolts in shock, looking down at you. "Hola."

You frown. You don't speak Spanish. Danish, yes. Swedish, yes. English when you absolutely have to and German when you want to annoy Morsa. So, you say again," Hi."

You blink up at her as she crouches in front of you. Finally, she says," Hello."

You grin. "Want one?" Because Morsa says it's good to share.

She looks at the packet in your hand, biting her lip as she glances back at the closed door and the even further away door of the locker room. "What is it?" Her accent is thick and rough but she's speaking English so at least you can understand her.

"Skildpadder," You say in awe," It's...er...chocolate and cream and caramel. It's very good." You open the packet and offer one to her. "My Momma and Morsa don't let me have them a lot but Momma let me get something from the vending machine."

The girl takes it. "Thank you. My name is Aitana."

"I'm y/n!" You grin and eat your own bite of chocolatey goodness. "Why are you waiting outside?"

Aitana's cheeks blush red and instead she fixes your Harder jersey from where it's gone askew. She notices the name on your back. "Do you like Pernille Harder?"

You frown. You're not sure what kind of question that is but you answer it anyway. "Uh-huh!"

Aitana smiles and says to you in barely a whisper. "She's my absolute favourite," She says," I look up to her a lot. I...I would like to swap my jersey for hers."

You nod along. It makes sense. Momma is one of the best in the world - you know that because she's got two trophies that say so - but Aitana seems pretty cool and you can't imagine someone as cool as Aitana wanting one of Momma's jerseys - the same as all the other ones you wear to bed.

You flick the thought away through because you give Aitana another skildpadder for being honest because that's what Morsa does for you and you take her hand.

She doesn't put up much for a fight as you walk her through the door and into the changing room. Lots of your aunties are changing and crying out words in Danish for you to come and cuddle them to console them after their loss but you ignore them all.

Instead, you go straight for Momma, dropping Aitana's hand to slam into her.

"Momma!" You cry in laughter as she lifts you easily onto her hip.

"Princesse! Did you get what you wanted?"

"Uh-huh!" You hold up your chosen snack triumphantly. You look back at Aitana, whose eyes dart between you and Momma in shock. "This is my new friend Aitana. She was waiting outside. She wants one of your shirts."

Momma places you back on the ground and walks closer to Aitana.

"You want to exchange shirts?"

Aitana nods. "Er...Por favor?"

Momma strips her shirt from her body and passes it to Aitana, who takes it after a moment of shock. Aitana repeats to gesture until they're both standing shirtless in the middle of the locker room.

"Do you mind if I give your shirt to y/n?" Momma asks as you creep towards them, standing at her side. "She's got quite the collection of shirts from the greatest players in the world."

You nod. "I have Frido's, who plays with Morsa sometimes. And Viv and Daan and Jill for when they play for the Netherlands. And...And...Oh! And Caro from when Momma and I were at Wolfsburg. And Leah from Arsenal! She says she will get me a Keira Walsh shirt because she is friends with her!" You list off your other jerseys and Aitana nods along, although you're talking so quickly you're not entirely sure she's fully keeping up with you.

"Aitana plays with Frido and Keira in Barcelona," Momma tells you and instantly you gasp.

Aitana is very cool.

You give her another skildpadder.

Aitana takes the shirt she gave to Momma and places it on you.

You smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She looks up at Momma and looks down again, blushing. "I...er...I didn't realise she was yours when we met."

"We keep her face out of the media most of the time," Pernille says as she watches you scamper off to Rikkie to brag about your new Bonmatí shirt. "But yes, she's mine and Magda's."

"She's very sweet."

"Yeah, she is."

There's silence for a moment and then," It's kind of inflating my ego a bit to know that someone like you wants my shirt."

"I appreciate the way you play," Aitana says, unable to make eye contact," And your dedication. You...er, what is the word? You are an idol of mine."

Pernille smiles softly and they both watch you munch on your skildpadder as the rest of the Danish team fuss over you.

"You must have made a good impression on her. She loves skildpadder. I'm surprised she's shared it. You've made her day, giving her the shirt."

Aitana's face reddens more with the amount of compliments she's being given. "I..." She takes out her phone and opens the notes app. "If you give me your address, I...I can get her the Keira jersey she wants. And if she's collecting world class players, I do not think Alexia or Patri will mind giving theirs up either."

[morganbritton132]

It be so funny if they took Joan to soccer game and put her either in the team colour or a cheerleading outfit.

Great minds think alike because I was just thinking that we having checked in with Joan in a while so this problem is perfect.

Every Saturday for over a month now, Joan has watched the humans and Ozzy leave the house in the morning and come back hours later loud, smelly, and energized. She does not have a problem with this per se but if she had eyebrows, she’d raise one of them. She would raise the other when they’re all too tired to play with her for too long after they come back.

So, Joan makes a decision.

When the next Saturday rolls around and Steve is digging around in the drier for his jersey, she makes her case known. She whines. She meows. She gets in the way of every step. She commits a drive-by biting. She even gets in the storage closet in the hallway and knocks over the dreaded cat stroller so it falls into the hallway.

She makes it very clear. She wants to go.

Eddie coos at her, “Awe, baby, she feels left out. Let’s take her.”

“Ed, it’s hot outside,” Steve replies, gesturing to Joan. She rubs her head against his leg. “She’s gray.”

“Steve, don’t be racist.”

“I’m not being – how is that –“ Steve sputters and then rambles on about tiny bodies, and fur, and overheating in the sun, but Joan already knows she got her way. Steve can’t say no to Eddie and he can’t say no to her either. Plus, she always gets her way.

Her way is the right way.

Steve sighs and gives in, “But if she gets too hot, you have to take her home.”

As a reward for Steve and Eddie’s good decision-making, Joan helps them get ready to leave. She wiggles her way into the cabinet with the first-aid kit and pulls out bandaids. She leaves them inside Steve’s cleats. He says thank you when he finds them.

Ozzy huffs from where he’s laying in his dog bed.

Joan purrs when Steve pets her head.

Since Eddie disappeared down into his studio the moment Steve agreed to let her come, Joan continues ‘helping Steve.’ Mainly, she cleans up (eats) all the scraps of lunchmeat he drops when making sandwiches for him, Eddie, Robin, and Nancy.

Eddie immerges from the studio ten minutes before they’re supposed to leave with a hastily sewed shirt made for a cat. It’s made out of the soft material of the cheer squad t-shirts he made for the other team members’ partners. He presents it first to Steve and then holds it out to Joan like, “Ta-dah.”

Joan sniffs the fabric – it smells like Eddie – and Steve is just like, “Why did you make that?”

“Because Joan’s got to represent, Stevie. We’re a jock family now and jocks wear their team colors,” Eddie insists, grin getting bigger when Steve rolls his eyes at him. “Everybody else is wearing team colors. Even Ozzy. See.”

He gestures to the pin attached to his yellow service dog vest that says ‘#1 Steve Harrington Defender.’ It’s right next to a patch that says ‘If You Pet Me, You Are A Part Of The Problem’ which is… “That’s new.”

“Yeah, I’m solving all the world’s problems today, baby,” He grins. “Isn’t that right, Joan?”

She hisses at the shirt.

[seraphimcollections]

drunk daze | NSFW Price/Reader | +18

warnings: MINORS DNI !!!! P?rn with plot, slight size kink, rough, club sex, sex pollen, multiple orgasms, sex with a superior, mutual pining, allusions to masturbation, NSFW FOR GOD'S SAKE!! Pure filth. No mention of Y/N but readers codename is "Kit"

...I regret nothing.

summary: you, Gaz and Price are all on a mission to locate a mysterious bio-weapon, the likes of you and your dear captain get an acquaintance with ;)

words: 5k <.<

a/n: ...just gonna leave this here...

______________________________________________________________

You could barely raise your chest to bring in breath. You felt like you were on fire, every inch of you covered in a thin film of sweat glimmering in the dingy lights of the cramped restroom. You sat on the toilet lid, your back arched and your head leaned over so that your hair could pool at the bottom of the basin. Cool running water ran over your locks in an attempt to increase your rising temperature. Little to say, it wasn’t working.

Oh, that’s right, you were on a mission, the objective completely forgotten at this point. You’re mind a haze, all you could think about was trying to hang on to the last piece of sanity holding you back from making a stupid decision. Your lips parted, you let out a strangled moan, trying your best to focus your gaze.

“Love,” his voice alone was able to cut through all the noise.

You looked up into his honeyed gaze, finding salvation. You smiled at him, hand reaching to catch on his tee.

“I really fucked us didn’t I,” you eyes swirled with lust staring up to the bearded man, “Captain.”

Four hours earlier, Gaz and Captain Price touched down in Tokyo, assigned to a special mission to retrieve a rumored bio-weapon.

“And we don’t have any other intel on this, Laswell?” You ask, all three of you standing around the laptop.

“All we know is that it's highly effective and mind-altering, but we’ll get the information we need once we’ve retrieved it,” Laswell said over the call.

“And this supposed bio-weapon is hidden inside this club?” Gaz said skeptically.

“Well, if I were an evil mastermind trying to hide the next hottest bio-weapon, I’d want to hide it in plain sight,” you shrugged.

“Alright, all that’s left is to get ready,” Price said, standing to his feet, “Gaz will be positioned in the building across from the club while you and I infiltrate and attempt to locate the weapon. Boots on the ground by 19:00 hours.”

You turned and waved over your shoulder as you walked toward your separate room, “can’t rush beauty, Cap!”

Gaz rolled his eyes with a chuckle, hearing the door click shut.

“Not going to lie, Captain,” Gaz smiled, “I’d kill to be in your position. Respectfully, of course.”

“Right,” Price smirked, slapping a hand on Gaz’ shoulder, “stay sharp, Gaz.”

Thirty minutes before departure time, Price sat in one of the hotel armchairs, helping himself to a cool glass of Scotch. Of course it wasn’t even close to being as good as his regular, but it would definitely be better than the drinks they’d be serving at the sketchy club he was heading to.

Instead of wearing his usual uniform, he had changed into something a bit more colloquial, a simple pair of jeans and a gray tee underneath his bomber. A beanie had replaced his trusty bucket hat. Sighing, he flicked his wrist to look at the time before his eyes shot to your door for what felt like the 10th time in 20 minutes. What was taking you so long, he thought. He had massively underestimated what went into making you look presentable, that much was apparent.

Finally, he heard your door open before the clacking of your heels on the hardwood. John felt his mouth go dry as his gaze climbed up your long legs, up to the short hemline of your skimpy reflective dress, over the canyon of your breasts -- no bra to be seen, until finally settling on your sultry gaze. He could feel his face become harder, his lips parted in awe.

“You look strapping, Cap,” you smiled.

Price gulped and tried to put on the best smile to hide his nerves. Nerves? He would’ve scoffed at the idea, but it would be a lie that he wasn’t seduced by the pure image of you. The way the dress hugged every curve, the way your skin glistened in the light, the subtle makeup on your eyelids that made your eyes pop even more than John thought possible. A goddess stood in front of him, and he hardly felt worthy.

“You look…stunning, love,” Price said.

You felt your stomach twist in a knot as you quickly averted your gaze. Love, a term of endearment, but from a friend. A superior. Your boss. Of course your Captain’s attractiveness was not lost on you, spending nights hot and out of breath as your sheets clung to your sweat body, one hand clamped over your mouth and the other slid between your legs. The image of your Captain’s bruising grip holding tightly on your hips while he-

“Should we head out then?” Price snapped you out of your thoughts as he stood to his feet.

You nodded in an attempt to be stoic and focused on the mission, despite the pure filth going on in her head, and between your legs. Price gestured for you to go first through the door, where he then realized the dress exposed the entirety of your back. He noted how your shoulder blades peaked from your skin, how the line of your back ran all the way down to the plump of your ass. Price nearly had to slap himself to get himself to stop looking, a near impossible feat. Get it together, idiot, he thought.

The ride to the club was quiet, both you and Price keeping your attention to anything and everything passing by as Gaz drove. Your leg crossed one over the other, you leaned your chin on your palm, your expression showing boredom. Gaz looked into the rearview toward your relaxed figure.

“You clean up pretty nice,” he said jokingly.

You smirked, playfully kicking his seat, “eyes on the road, casanova.”

Gaz chuckled before throwing his hands up in defeat, “just stating the obvious. Oh, you don’t look too bad yourself, Captain.”

Price rolled his eyes, looking at his watch again, “anyway, you know your positions. Gaz, keep an eye to see if any of our targets come in the vicinity. Kit and I will make our way in and locate the weapon-”

“And make our grand escape into the sunset. Mission accomplished,” you looked to him with a comforting smile, “don’t worry Cap, this will be a cake walk.”

Price sighed almost in relief as he stared into eyes. You often had the tendency to be optimistic, sometimes to a fault, but it helped with the nerves. Something Price had a feeling you knew well.

Finally the car came to a slow around the corner of the club, eventually coming to a stop underneath a street lamp.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Gaz said, twisting to look back at you two, “good luck in there, try not to die.”

“And prolong my amazing funeral? Wouldn’t dream of it,” you clapped Gaz on the shoulder before stepping out, Price following you out.

Gaz didn’t wait, immediately pulling off to dump the car in an unmarked alleyway before making his way to his rooftop position. The chill of the night air sent gooseflesh over your arms as you stood next to Price. You blinked in shock as he held out his arm to you, looking up at him. John gave you a small smile.

“Better make it look believable, right?” He said.

You smiled before snaking your arm in between his, maybe a little too eagerly.

“Who knew you were such a gentleman,” you smiled.

“Of course, you think I’m some sorry sod who doesn’t know how to treat a fine woman like you?” He said, “fine” slipping out before he could do anything about it.

This slip wasn’t lost on you, bringing a blush to your cheeks.

“You’re right, that's more of Gaz’s deal isn’t it,” you smirked.

“I can hear you, you know that right?” Gaz sounded unimpressed over the earpiece.

“Just checking if the ear piece was working,” you said coyly. 

“Right,” Gaz said.

The two of you turned the corner, making your way to the growing line outside the club door. The building itself wasn’t anything to write home about, but the growing line waiting outside the door was enough to prove otherwise. By looking at the serious demeanor of the bouncer, who was obviously armed, you knew your were going to play this up a bit more. A sultry smile grew on your glossed lips, pulling gently on Price’s arm to bring him to your level. You pressed yourself closer to his side, molding into him. To anyone else, you were a young couple completely infatuated with each other, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

“He’s armed,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear.

Price went rigid feeling your sudden warmth, one of your arms wrapped his arm, the other on his chest. He quickly had to refocus, realizing the weight in your words as he looked over the bouncer at the door.

“Got it,” his voice rumbled.

It wasn't long before the two of you reached the door and the bouncer held up his hand.

“トラを食べちゃう車ってなぁに？” the large man said deeply.

Without skipping a beat, you answered, “トラック.”

The man nodded and stepped aside, letting the two of you pass by, his stoic gaze never leaving Price until they passed through the door. They walked down a short hallway that vibrated with the music until they reached the main floor. The place was packed wall to wall, on the dance floor and the terrace above where the bar was located. Price’s eyes squinted at the violent flashing lights as he looked over the room. You still had a grip on his arm. He leaned down your ear.

“How’d you know how to get in?” Price said.

You shrugged, “it’s an old riddle, my grandma taught to us as a kid.”

Price nodded, “alright, let’s split up. Keep an eye out for anything interesting, stay frosty.”

“Copy that,” with that you released his arm, much to his disappointment.

You turned and looked over your shoulder with a grin, “and loosen up, old man! You’ll blow our cover before we ever get the chance!”

Price nearly choked on his breath, “not so loud!”

You waved dismissively over your shoulder, “no one can hear us, it’s too loud!”

You continued your way down to the dance floor, your heartbeat picking up as you sunk into the waves of dancing bodies lost in the music. Yes, you were on a mission, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have a bit of fun, right? Letting yourself be taken by the beats shaking the ground underneath your heels, you began to sway your hips. No one could wipe the smile away from your lips if they tried. You couldn’t remember the last time you actually went dancing, it had been way too long, forgetting how releasing it could be. The months of rough missions and being shot at had even your light-hearted jokes coming on a bit thick. So yes, you needed this. You need a release.

You ran your hands over your curves, swaying foot to foot, your hips in circles. In the same moment, you could feel eyes on you, and you knew damn well who it was. Price found you so easily in that crowd. He leaned over the railing, a glass of whiskey in his hand as he looked down at you from the terrace. His eyes never left your form, noting every way your body rolled, watching as your growing sweat began to glisten across your skin. God, you were perfect, and you knew it which made you all the more dangerous to him. A forbidden fruit.

Now, now you are going to put on a show. It was just too easy and too tempting not to. Maybe it would’ve landed you in a world of hurt later, but for now, you were going to wring every drop out of this moment. You flipped hair, your hands moving to hold your neck as you swing your hips in a circle, rolling your body in waves. You look up at Price, that smug grin never leaving.

“You little minx,” Price mumbled, taking a deep swig of his whiskey.

You had to have known what you were doing to him, this little game you were playing was slowly unraveling his resolve with each move. Not even a second later, you feel hands smooth over your waist and the warmth of someone behind you. You immediately tear your eyes away from Price and look at the man behind you.

“Haven’t seen you around here before, stranger,” the man said into your ear.

You didn’t slip, laying on the bimbo act on thick, “I’m from out of town, heard this place was a must see. Can’t see why though, am I missing something?”

The man chuckled, twirling you around before holding you tight to his chest shown brazenly through his unbuttoned shirt.

“You made it just in time for the grand finale,” the man said, his hand sliding down to your ass before squeezing.

It took everything in you to not slice his hand off right then and there, hiding your maliciousness behind a close-lipped smile.

“Oh, is that so?” You say.

The music began to reach its peak, the crowd becoming rowdier by the second. It felt like the dance floor had become even more packed, people closing you in completely. You looked over the man’s shoulder and up to Price, your gaze saying it all. Something was about to go down.

“Everyone’s storming the floor -- Kit time to go,” Price said to the ear piece to no response, “Kit, you read?”

But you couldn’t hear him over the loudness of the music shaking your bones. The air felt thinner and the heat was nearly unbearable when your dancing partner suddenly pulled you even closer to him to whisper in your ear.

“Here it comes, don’t waste a single drop,” he snickered.

Your eyes narrowed in confusion before hearing a large pop. Your head shot up to the blinding light above, seeing confetti raining down. But it wasn’t just confetti, there was a fine dust that glittered in the light and completely dominated what little air there was. The man took in a deep whiff, letting out a groan before sticking out his tongue. Before you could turn away, the cloud was upon you, blinding you while the room erupted into cheers. You shoved the man away from you, not that he seemed to mind, his attention drawn to the showering cloud of powder above.

Price instantly lept into action, abandoning his drink at a nearby table and shoving past the troves of people to get to you. You coughed and stumbled through the bodies, bumping into everyone as you passed, desperately rubbing the powder from your eyes to the best of your ability.

“John, s-shit, J-John!” You shouted in panic, hands over your eyes.

Soon enough you felt his warm hands take you by your arms.

“I’m here, you’re okay, you’re okay,” he said.

He guided away from the floor and you followed blindly. You could feel the two of you pushing through, John not even bothering with manners until you could hear the opening of a door. You stumbled through and John hurriedly locked it behind you. You swayed, letting out a groan as you felt a throbbing headache coming on. You outstretched your arms, your hands laid flat against the walls casing you in.

“Fuck, I can’t see,” you whimpered, keeping your eyes squinted.

Without as much as a word, John turned you around and forced you to sit on what you assumed was the toilet.

“Here, lean back,” Price said, his voice laced with worry.

You did as he said, leaning back far enough that your back was supported by the sink basin attached to the tank. You could feel John’s hulking frame lean over you, adding his own heat to your unbearable temperature, turning on the faucet. Gently, he took your locks and laid underneath the cool water. You couldn’t quite place it, but you felt like your skin was crawling. Was it always like that? Your blood must have been boiling in your veins, centralizing lower, causing you to clench your thighs together. This feeling, it couldn’t be…

Your head began to turn into mush, you hadn’t even realized your tight grip on John’s shirt.

“Hold on, Kit, stay with me,” John’s voice sounded too good right, too good.

You flinched as he gently poured water over your closed eyes, the liquid feeling as if it was evaporating off your skin instantly. The world sounded underwater, like this small room was all that was left in the world. Leaving only you and John. You couldn’t hear Gaz calling over the earpiece, it having fallen out of your ear in your scuffle through the crowd, but John was talking to him.

That powder, it tasted sweet like sugar and coated everything. Everyone seemed to have been expecting it, everyone except you two. Shit, it all made sense.

“F-fuck, John, the weapon,” you gritted out, “that’s what it was. It’s some kind of, s-shit, I don’t know - an aphrodisiac, maybe? Fuck it’s so hot.”

John’s eyes widened in shock and realization. You groaned, cracking your eyes open to look up at him. If you didn’t think he was a giant (compared to you) you definitely thought so now seeing him in such a cramped space. He looked over you with that piercing blue gaze, the one that sent fear into the heart of many, but now only set you ablaze. Your gaze spilled over him, over his well-kept beard and mustache -- how desperately you wanted to ride them.

You clenched your legs tighter, trying but obviously failing to hang on to any ounce of sanity. He was your Captain. The man that made sure the job got done and that everyone came back. That’s all it was supposed to be. But you knew damn well it hadn’t just been that for a long time. You found yourself staring at the man for longer, sometimes he’d catch you and return a smile. That damned smile gifted by the mischievous gods themselves, sent to destroy you. And gods, it was working. Soon everything became engraved in your mind, the way his hips winded when he walked, the way he’d chew into his cigars when he was stressed. How he would bark orders to the time, watching them fall in line so easily, wishing, begging that he’d one day turn those orders on you and you alone. How you’d pray for them in your bed, your fingers desperately rubbing circles on your overstimulated clit in hopes of even coming close to what impossible pleasure he’d give you.

All such feelings were just that, feelings, and thus had no room in the real world. But now, such feelings roared like a furnace in your belly and you feared they’d overflow.

“I’ve really fucked us, didn’t I, Captain?” You said, your voice weak.

John couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, leaning closer to look into your blown eyes. He gently tilted your head to get a better look at you.

“Kit, report,” he said gently.

You didn’t respond, your words tangled in bliss. John frowned, running a thumb over your plump lips.

“Come on, stay with me,” he whispered.

Your brow furrowed and you gulped, your mouth a desert.

“I-It’s…hot, so hot, I feel like I’m hot spring on top of fucking volcano,” your words slurred, “my head feels light, I can’t think straight…and my heart, it’s beating so fast. It hurts, John…”

John frowned, finding the odds even worse than he thought. In only a few moments, you wouldn’t be able to move let alone respond if he didn’t do something. He felt his heart in his throat. If you died on his watch, right in front of him, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. He knew then, he felt more for you than a superior should ever feel. He now understood the anxiety he felt when he’d send on missions without him, and the immeasurable relief you brought when you came back to him. How he’d crack a smile at your bad jokes, so bad that they could even make Ghost chuckle. Remembering your divine image when you’d come out of a training session, covered in sweat to the point that it soaked through that little tank you called a shirt, eyeing how it clings to you, showing him everything but not enough at the same time.

John felt his mouth run dry as he pressed the earpiece.

“Gaz, keep an eye on the perimeter,” John said gruffly, “going dark.”

He didn’t even wait for Gaz to answer before dropping the earpiece and stomping it underneath his boot. John looked over your limp body, hunger clawing at him as he took in every inch of you.

“Kit, I need you to listen to me,” he said, both hands cradling your face.

You tried your best to give him your attention but you were slipping by the second.

“I need you to tell me you want this,” he said, still trying to find restraint. “Or else tell me to stop this and I will.”

You didn’t think your heart could beat any faster than it did but you couldn’t put it past John. All sense of restraint snapped like a twig. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him close until your lips clashed together. Teeth clashed as you held him tight. You expected him to push you away, you expected to have read the situation wrong, but you didn’t. He didn’t.

John nearly lost it when you moaned needily into the kiss. He tried his best not to crush you under his weight, one hand supporting himself against the wall behind you, the other tangling in your damp hair, pulling you impossibly closer. You kept your hands busy too, sliding down to his shirt and belt, yanking at the fabric. By the time the two of you separated, John was out of breath as he looked down at you with an unquenchable thirst.

“I want you to know,” his words rumbled in his chest, “if I could, I’d take you out to dinner, get you flowers, I wouldn’t, I mean-”

You giggled, “I know, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do all that later.”

John smiled, his hands squeezing under your thighs before hauling you up, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. The wall felt like ice against your back, but he felt like fire against you. His warm hands slither up your thighs and under dress, fingers curling around the band of your thong.

John groaned, “what you do to me…”

His fingers moved the fabric clothing your heat, swiping up the slit and gathering your juices on his fingertips. 

“God, how are you this wet already?” He mumbled against your lips.

You could only answer  with a strangled mewl as he slid two fingers inside with ease. Working them, you struggled to contain your moans as his thumb circled your clit relentlessly.  Your vision was blurring by the second as you clawed at his shirt, moaning into his neck. You squealed, feeling John add another finger and when he curled them, spots of your vision completely disappeared.

“S-shit, John, right there, g-god!” You gasped.

John pumped his fingers faster, his mouth covering yours as an attempt to quiet you despite craving to hear you more. He watched as you fell apart in front of him, and he hungered for more. He kept his pace until your eyes flitted to the back of your head, your legs shaking around him. You came violently around his fingers, clawing at John’s muscular arms as he continued to pump them into your sensitive cunt. He only slowed when your fingers wrapped around his wrist, causing him to look up into you fucked out gaze.

Your eyes said it all. Your lips were parted and glossy with his and your own saliva.

“John, please…” you whispered airlessly.

He didn’t hold back, letting your legs fall as you tried your best to lean into the wall so as not to fall. He pulled hastily at his leather belt, peeling back the layers until he cock was finally free. You felt your mouth water seeing it slap up against his abdomen, its head red and angry. John stroked it a few times, squeezing the tip tightly. He took your left thigh, propping your heel on the toilet, spreading you and slipping between your legs. Now you could truly feel all of him. You slithered your fingers underneath John’s shirt, lifting it up to his firm pecs that you more than once caught yourself staring at during workout. Your hands felt so hot against him, he wanted more, needed more. His steely blue eyes connected with yours, looking for any hesitance, anything that would call him off. 

 “Tell me to stop,” his accent sounded rough, showing how much he was actually holding back. “Tell me-”

 You silenced him with a kiss, softer and gentler than the last. This was true, a promise. You broke from him and smiled warmly.

 “You are all I want,” you whispered.

 John groaned, swiping his tip along your slit, pulling a moan from you before knocking the air out of you as he began to sink into you. He was big, the was obvious. The tip alone made you stretch uncomfortably but you craved it, longed for it. He was being careful, your cautious captain. You could see it in his face, his brow scrunched up as he sunk further and further until he reached the hilt. Your mouth hung open in pleasure, your brow knitted.

 He waited for a moment before gently thrusting, kissing your velvety walls. You let out mewls, your fingers clawing against his arms.

 “J-John,” you whimpered.

 “Yea love?” he said, his words beginning to slur from the pleasure.

 “It’s okay,” you smiled, “let go.”

 John’s eyes widened a centimeter, fully blown. By a flip of a switch, he wrapped your wrists with a single hand and pinned them above you. His lips found sanctuary in your shoulder and neck, leaving smoldering kisses. His hips snapped against you and breath-taking pace, hitting deep with each thrust. You felt your mind fully melt, stars blinding your vision.

 “F-fuck, how are you this tight, love?” He groaned against your ear.

 All you could now was whimper pathetically in response, your hands clawing at his back as he ravished you over and over. Both your slick stuck to his abdomen and your thighs, his balls slapping against you every time he’d bury his cock into your cunt. You couldn’t control your moans, and John wouldn’t have wanted you to. He as lost in them as you were, groaning into your ear.

 The way he pounded into you, kissing your cervix, it was no wonder how you were so quickly returned to the edge. Your felt your stomach tighten as slapped your hands against his chest as another orgasm came over you in a unforgiving wave. You were dripping now, juices beginning to pool at your feet.

 For a moment you thought John had relented, letting out a pitiful whine as he pulled out of your puffy cunt. This thought was dashed when he dragged you over to the sink, your hands holding yourself up against the porcelain. John ruffled your dress over your ass, slapping a hand against it before tightly squeezing.

 “Look at you, you’re a sight,” John mumbled, “it was pure torture watching you out there. Almost like this was what you’ve always wanted. Needed a good fuck, didn’t you Kit?”

 You let out a moan, feeling John slide a hand up your back to tangle into your locks before pulling. You looked up lazily into the reflection, finding him staring back at you.

 “Answer me, soldier,” he said, a smug smirk on his lips.

 In any other circumstance you would want to whip that prideful smirk off his face, but right now all you wanted to do was worship him.

 “Yes, sir.”

 You let out a moan as he slid back into you so easily, falling back into his brutal pace. Your head rocked back as you bit you lip, your eyes rolling to the back your head. He kissed your sweet spot repeatedly, bruising it but you loved it. God you loved it.

 “Good fucking girl,” he cursed, his fingers digging into the plush of your hips, “doing so well for me.”

 You yelped as he picked up the pace, something you didn’t think was possible. John watched with pride as your ass slapped against his thighs with ever thrust, echoing against the concrete walls along with the pornstar moans he was dragging out of you so easily. He could feel your walls tightening around him as he rammed your womb, inching him closer to his climax.

 “Where do you want it, love?” He said, his breath labored.

 You didn’t even think, your mouth did all the work.

 “F-fuck, fuck cum, cum inside me- fuck, John!” You cried.

 “Fuuck, love, you’re dangerous,” John groaned, his grip on your waist tightening, his head dipped to your back.

 His breaths left his lungs in huffs each thrust, matching your moans until you both unraveled like paper dolls. You let out a long moan, feeling his seed paint your womb and warm you from the inside out.

 The two of you refused to move, both gasping for air. It wasn’t until his soft dick was forced out by your tight cunt did John look up into the mirror.

 “You alright, love?” He said.

 All you could do was nod, still trying to catch your breath. John stood straight, hands gently rubbing your back as he looked down at the mess he made of you. His seed dripped out lazily from you and before he could even think, he took his index, catching some before stuffing it back in. You let out a small whimper, looking over your shoulder to him.

 “Can’t waste a drop, love,” he said with a tired smirk.

 You shakily pushed yourself off the sink, your dress falling back over thighs. Legs feeling like jello, you stumbled to sit down on the toilet. You hung your head as you tried your best to catch your breath. Much to your dismay, the high began to subside and the regret began to set in.

 As if sensing your anxiety, John gently cradled your face, guiding you to look up at him. He placed a gentle kiss on your swollen lips before pulling away with a smile.

 “I meant what I said,” he said. “I want to take you out. Somewhere you nice. Treat you like you deserve, that is, if you’ll have me?”

 You looked up at him in disbelief before grinning, “I’ll go anywhere you are, Captain.”

______________________________________________________________

*leaps into escape vehicle*: I REGRET NOTHING!!

help me out a please reblog and like, thank you!!

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

queer signalling: louis and harry living their beautiful queer lives, collected by me

since we must take note of our fellow queers when they signal that they are very much one of us, despite being closeted. since i've had a very very queer few years thanks to them, thanks to their signalling, thanks to them being brave.

(!! this list isn't exhaustive, and if i've forgotten your favorite, by all means let me know. there's always room for another edition. it's been a while since i made a compilation and felt there was a need of a new one on my blog. this one goes a few years back, since my last one dates from 2021 :'o. so yeah. here we go.)

harry in my policeman, playing a closeted queer man, based on the book that's long been one of his favorites. lauded by the director and co-stars for how well he portrayed this character, how well he understood.

harry wearing a green flower on his chest for the mp premiere, placing himself (once again) in the same line of history as oscar wilde.

louis's green flowers on his initial 28clothing jersey at the first afhf, which includes bonus roses and 28s all around

the entire late night talking mv bc!!!!!

louis's rainbow stage lights during sibwawc. he really did that. every single night.

the entire dazed magazine happening. “I’ve always tried to compartmentalise my personal life and my working life,” he explains. / “I have unlocked an ability to be myself completely, unapologetically,” he says with conviction." / “I think through my own sense of self and personal journey, I am realising that happiness isn’t this kind of end state.”

louis's gay exit songs: most notably 'ever fallen in love (with someone you shouldn't've)'

harry flirting with stanley tucci

louis and his gay ass tank tops !!! we must point it out !!!!!!

all along

harry kissing a pride flag during harry's house ono in nyc

rainbow flare during the btm mv

harry being gifted a mask of his own face at munich n2, which prompted him to say that he feels like he's wearing a mask sometimes

28 in a triangle for 28clothing!!!!!!!!

kit connor soft launching 28 clothing. a young actor starring in a queer coming-of-age series, who was forced to come out after being accused of queerbaiting. he was the first one, besides louis, to wear 28clothing

harry's grammy's speech "people like me" (which ppl sadly misunderstood), echoing what he's been saying on tour for years. this doesn't happen to people like him. if they only knew, right?

harry's freddie-inspired outfit for the grammy carpet (which also brought back his theme for clown/jester fits, like harryween 2021 n2. wonder why)

louis's merch graphic where a boy is trying to smash a glass ceiling

harry posing for david hockney, actual living legend, gay artist of the ages. "Styles seems to know how lucky he is, adding, with a tinge of disbelief: “I’m in awe of the man with enough one-liners for a lifetime.” As to what those one-liners might be? Styles and Hockney’s mutual silence on that question suggests that what happens in the studio, stays in the studio."

louis having suspicious visuals during back to you, the only visuals of that type on tour

harry's 2022 harryween outfit: dressed as danny (literally. he did that. he went grease on us.) but wearing sandy's jacket

louis at barricade aka held safely in the arms of strong security personnel

harry singing man, i feel like a woman and still the one with shania twain. while wearing a rainbow discoball jumpsuit (parallel with kacey musgraves wearing a rainbow dress to sing it with him years ago.)

louis's gay ass merch for the away from home festival

harry dressed in nina ricci by harris reed, an explicitly gender-fluid line. "At 18 I found myself living in london creating ruffle blouses, corsets, fabric flowers and flares from my kitchen floor (...). My creations at the time were met with nothing but criticism for being “too feminine” or “costume”, teachers said I should focus on “menswear” or “womenswear”. l remember it really wasn’t until I started dressing for myself and who I was that it all clicked. @harrystyles was my first ever client who embraced the fun, fluid and expressive clothing I was creating."

continuous bluegreening. to name a few: harry's werchter fit, all this time lights, satellite caps in two colors only, louis's smiley flickering bluegreen on tour in 2022, the james cordon shit, louis in uncasville. enjoy this post here

harry's snl shoot unseens: him as ariel

louis out in amsterdam at a gay bar

harry going to the women's only swimming pond (on a day it was open for men, but this is important to me okay)

harry's use of orchids in his visuals during 'she' during love on tour '23

the 'hairy mermaid' tour visuals

harry as a mermaid during the mfasr mv. as a supreme physical manifestation of harry as the mermaid he truly is inside. but in his true form he gets chopped up and consumed. literally

as it was mv and its parallels with the matrix, hints to harry as the woman with the red dress.

louis jumping up on barricade against the one spot where a pride flag was draped over it

oh yeah that exact same thing happened in 2022 too

harry forming a skirt with a pride flag in brasil after his pants ripped

that gay ass denim getup with the fur collar?? while wearing the fucking peace ring????

harry and phoebe breaking gender norms in the tpwk mv dance. no i'm not over it yet shut up

louis wearing a basquiat t-shirt, another famously queer artist joining the ranks

harry bought an actual genuine basquiat. flex

harry dressed in skirts for gucci

"happy pride! happy pride! 'tis the season! can you tell i'm relaxed?"

"isn't all of this sparkly bi music?"

satellite mv rainbow planet tshirt

louis's bigger than me promo where he's literally george michael like??? IM SORRY???????

harry kissing lewis capaldi at the brits

harry kissing nick kroll at the dwd premiere. lol

and... harry as friend of D O R O T H Y. sang over the rainbow. we all cried. especially me at this clip of harry glancing in relief at his band after over the rainbow.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 42: Fitz's Cold Comfort

Prev > Masterlist > Next

June 1905

tw: captivity, mind control, aftermath of burns and mouth whump

When Fitz opened his eyes again, he was somewhere else entirely, being laid out onto an upholstered couch. His mind was swimming, still drowning in sleep. He was in a bedroom, a particularly large and ornate one. His childhood home? How was he back there? He couldn't be -- not when he'd been out for so many years --

No, he realized just as he started to panic, this was a different nightmare entirely. He was still in the auction house, still with the vampires. Through his lidded eyes he saw Mr. Alexander setting him down, and behind him, Miss Lily being comforted by a long-haired woman in a simple pinafore and apron. 

"Mr. Lex, sir, what happened?" she asked. 

"Our sire punished her -- forced her to cut out her tongue again."

Again?

"Please attend to your madam, Nellie. Take her into the bathroom and help her wash off the blood and calm down. She'll need to feed from you in order to begin healing the wound."

"Of course, sir, of course. Thank you for helping my madam, sir." 

Fitz blinked, and Mr. Alexander was looming over him, making him involuntarily flinch. "It's okay, Fitz. I'm going to wash your wound with cool water. Please hold still."

He willed himself to stay still as Mr. Alexander brought a washcloth to the burns on his chest. The cooling sensation of the water felt heavenly, and he couldn't help but sink into it.

"There's an awful bruise on your face, too. Did he hit you?"

"Mm," said Fitz. For denying that I wanted you to buy me, he didn't add.

"Did he hurt you anywhere else?"

"No, just the slap and the burns and the general air of threat and torment, sir."

"...I'm sorry," he said softly. "I need to go fetch some bandages and lotion. I won't be long. Why don't you rest, go back to sleep?" Before Fitz could respond either way, Alexander began to sing his lullaby once more, and Fitz couldn't help his eyes growing dull and heavy after only a few bars, couldn't fight the pull of enchanted slumber. He didn't want to go back to sleep, but he couldn't help but just rest his eyes for --

"Fitz. I'm back. Can I help you sit up?"

He opened his eyes, confused. He had only just blinked. Hadn't he?

"Here, let me help take the dress off, and then I can give you some lotion for the burn. I brought some pajama pants you can wear."

"Alright, sir," said Fitz, despising how useless and helpless he felt, how he was too tired for wit. How much he was at the mercy of this vampire's kindness. The memory of the Maestro effortlessly toying with his body as though he were a doll haunted him, and while Alexander's power was far more pleasant, he still couldn't help feeling trapped.

He wanted to believe that Mr. Alexander was better, that he'd escaped or at least postponed the worst of it, but how could he know for sure? How could he possibly begin to trust a vampire? And even if he could trust Mr. Alexander, there was the Maestro's challenge, his promise of inevitable tragedy.

There was a truly awful noise coming from the bathroom, something between a retch and a howl, and Mr. Alexander stopped unlacing Fitz's corset for a moment. "Lily's having a rough time, to say the least. I know it sounds terrible, but she will heal in a few days at most," he said, resuming. "Vampires can heal from almost any wound, given an adequate supply of blood. One important reason why we keep thralls, not as if I expect you to sympathize."

His new purpose, to feed a vampire. Even after all that had happened, Miss Lily's spell of submission still had a grip on him, made him long to be close to Mr. Alexander. "I understand, sir. Perhaps I wish I didn't, but I do."

"Here, sit down, this will help with the discomfort," said Mr. Alexander, as he gently pushed Fitz back down onto the couch. He had a little metal kit with a red cross painted on it, and he pulled out some pink cream and began applying it to the branded spot on Fitz's chest. It was soothing, and Fitz found he could breathe easier, sinking into the couch cushions.

"I'm going to have to stay here at the auction house for the next few days to help with Lily's work, while she regains her voice. While I was downstairs, I arranged for a room for us to stay in. We'll go home after that," said Mr. Alexander. 

Home. His new owner's home, of course.

"Lily is my little sister in spirit, you see, and I can't just abandon her. Not after what happened," he continued. "I hope you don't mind."

Fitz started intently at where Mr. Alexander was taping a bandage to his wound. "Does it actually matter if I mind, sir?"

Mr. Alexander's hands dropped. He cleared his throat. "It does," he said. "And I certainly don't expect you to trust or forgive me after that, but... I am sorry. It was either follow his order or leave you with him, and what he does to his thralls..."

"And you're different, sir?"

"I like to think so, yes," said Alexander. "I won't harm you. I'll treat you well. I'll give you everything that you desire, that's within my power to grant. You have my word."

Fitz wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe that so badly. That's what made it a dangerous thing to believe. Hell, he'd seen this very con game before: one confidence artist as the tough guy threatening the mark, while another takes the role of a helpful good Samaritan, to ingratiate themselves more easily to the mark. How did Fitz know this wasn't all planned?

"You have every incentive to treat me however you please, sir," said Fitz. "Didn't your sire say that if you didn't train me to his standards, you'd be punished as well?"

"I don't care." There was a sudden flame in Mr. Alexander's eyes, a fierceness that hadn't been there a second ago. "He is not taking you, Fitz. Not ever. You're mine."

"Sir...?" Fitz couldn't help but be taken off guard by this sudden show of protectiveness and possessiveness in one.

"I haven't truly desired anything in decades," said Mr. Alexander with frightening intensity. "He may have delivered you back to me in order to control me, but all he's done is provided the incentive for me to finally break free of him, no matter what it takes."

Just as back in the showroom, Fitz could feel those eyes tunneling into him, could feel the weight and presence of the vampire's need. He could feel Mr. Alexander's hunger, his dark desire, and it took the last vestiges of his willpower to keep holding onto his mind.

It should be terrifying. They'd only just met earlier that evening, and Mr. Alexander owned him. With his vampiric and mesmeric powers, he could do anything he liked to Fitz.

And yet.

No one had ever felt so passionate about Fitz, not really. He'd flirted and manipulated his way into many a heart and many a bed, but no one had truly seen him as more than an idle diversion. He'd never had someone to care at all.

He wanted it, despite himself.

But everything Mr. Alexander was saying was exactly as the Maestro had predicted it. Mr. Alexander wanting to possess him, Mr. Alexander thinking they could both be saved.

Fitz swallowed his thought. He didn't want Mr. Alexander to know that and give him incentive to treat Fitz poorly, or discourage his plot to kill his sire. 

A lot could happen in one year.

The moment between them was broken by Miss Lily slamming open the door to the bathroom. Compared to her perfect poise during the auction, and even how put-together she had been when meeting her sire in the parlor, she looked as though a horse had trampled her. Her hair was falling around her face in tangles, her makeup was half-washed off and smeared, and her dress was skewed.

"You look terrible. How are you feeling?" asked Mr. Alexander.

Her glare said it all.

"Sorry, I mean -- it's understandable that you look terrible after all of that -- you understand what I was saying -- perhaps I should shut my mouth," said Mr. Alexander, clearing his throat.

Miss Lily sighed and gestured towards Fitz.

"I fetched a first aid kit and patched him up. He should be fine," said Mr. Alexander before Fitz could report on his own condition. "I talked to Colette downstairs. She's going to let me fill in for you while you're... indisposed. Fitz and I will be staying in the room three doors to the left from here."

Miss Lily looked so tired as she nodded. As she crossed the room, she pat Mr. Alexander on the shoulder in a gesture that seemed to convey gratitude, then absentmindedly pat Fitz on the head before sitting on the bed. She gestured towards the bathroom, and Nellie emerged, walking briskly to sit next to her vampire owner. Fitz could feel the pull of Miss Lily's aura as she tucked back Nellie's hair, brushing her neck, before giving Mr. Alexander a pointed look.

"Oh, yes, we should retire to our own quarters so you can feed in private. Besides, Fitz needs rest after all of that."

By this time, Mr. Alexander's spell had worn off enough that his anxiety had returned. "I don't know how you expect me to rest after all of that, sir."

"I was going to put you to sleep again," said Mr. Alexander as if that was the most normal thing in the world.

Fitz looked from him to where Miss Lily was waiting impatiently for them to leave. Nellie was looking at her rapturously, tilting her head to expose her neck, waiting for the feeding. A vampire's servant, just as he was, now.

Is that how he would look? Adoring, staring into Mr. Alexander's eyes, with no thought in the world but to give his blood to a vampire.

"Let's go and give them some privacy," said Mr. Alexander, sweeping Fitz up into his arms.

"I could walk --" he protested.

"There's no need."

And Fitz really did have no choice but to let Mr. Alexander carry him out of the room, down the hallway to an equally ornate room. No choice but to allow him to tuck him in bed or sing him back to sleep.

Or perhaps he did have a choice, and he was simply too exhausted to make it.

Prev > Masterlist > Next

Next week we'll return to Oliver's time as Alexander receives a social call.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot @cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug on the Jedi in 'The Clone Wars'

Y'all have asked, and Dr. Meat Muffin might be a disgruntled old hag that chugs too much Trader Joe’s bourbon and doodles too much subpar art, but she keeps her promises!

Just so y’all know, if you’re a major character (Anakin, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, etc) you keep your name, because it was drilled into Doug’s head over 8 seasons of Clone Wars and the movies. Everyone else, though, Doug gave up and created his own catchphrases for them.

CW: This one's not as spicy as Doug's previous rants regarding Star Wars, but y'all know if y'all know. "It'll all come out in the wash."

--------------------------------------

Plo Koon: Ah, Shrimp Daddy. He looks like a shrimp that’s been boiled and left in the sun after a potluck. But my wife LOVES him, she says he has the nicest voice and she wishes he’d narrate some books. I loved him too, he was my favorite. That scene where he tells his clone boys in space that they’re important to him? Ah great. They should have him lead HR meetings. 

Aayla Secura: Babe-the-Blue-Jedi. They sent her away from the Temple because Yoda didn’t want that hotness distracting everyone. Is she and Miguel (Bly?!) dating? They are, right? 

Kit Fisto: Reggae Swamp Thing. Tell me that boy don't look like he lives in the Atchafalaya and bangs on the steel drums all day. I wonder if he stole those shorts from Michael Phelps. He’s cool but does he need to have a tank to swim in on his ship? Does he have gills? I need more info on this guy. 

Adi Gallia: Storm’s Cousin. Doesn’t this chick look like her? She does, right? Maybe she's a Jedi cause she can't control the weather. Didn’t Maul’s brother Saul impale her on his horns and that’s how she died?* Why didn’t Maul do that to Obi-Wan? Maul was obsessed with Obi-Wan, do you think it’s because he had a crush on him after he sliced him in half?

(Doug also ships Obi-Wan with Maul now? IS THERE ANYONE WHO DOUG DOESN'T SHIP OBI-WAN WITH?!)

Shaak-Ti: Ahsoka’s Aunt. They’re totally related. (“No, they’re not.” “Says who?” “Um, EVERYONE?!”) She’s cool, nice to the clone boys. I like her horns. 

Saesee Tiin : Angry Bull Boy. He looks like a minotaur whose daddy left him at a Wal-Mart instead of the Labyrinth after drinking too much.

Deepa Billaba: My Coworker Anu. Seriously! She looks JUST LIKE HER. I even texted her a screenshot, and she used that as her Slack Channel picture for the longest time. Nice lady, she's a good master to Lil Kanan. Hm, Lil Kanan sounds like a rap person my niece would listen to.

Ki-Adi-Mundi: Mutant-Mall-Santa. Look me dead ass in the eye and tell me the man don’t look like he was supposed to hand out presents and ask kids what they want for Christmas and ended up hanging out in toxic waste instead. He's a snotty asshole, I don't like him, he thinks the sun comes up just to hear him crow.

Luminara Undali: Lady-in-Drape. She’s a green lady, and she wears a drape. Meat Muffin, I'm tired and it's about to snow.

Barriss Offee: Little Lady-in-Drape. Man, she was awful, but she had good points, ya know? Kind of like Darth Maul. Do you think Darth Maul and Obi-Wan ever dated? Or would Obi-Wan’s boyfriend get jealous? 

Quinlan Voss: College-Hippie-Boy. Doesn’t he just look like one of those goofs that fart around with hackysacks all day long? I'd buy weed from him if he was selling, he looks like an exporter and consumer, if you know what I mean.

Even Piall: Dobby the House Jedi. Man he looks like he was on his way to help Harry Potter or something and ended up in a bathrobe with a light saber. Ah well. 

*= Savage is ‘Saul’ and Feral is ‘Paul’. So it’s Maul, Saul, and Paul. I strained a muscle laughing when I got this. 

Tagging my Redneck Doug stans here! @amalthiaph @sued134 @eyecandyeoz @thecoffeelorian @merkitty49 @megmca @skellymomam I missing anyone?

Let me know if I missed any Jedi, those were the ones that came up that Doug didn't immediately recognize.

[cherryxcadbury]

11 with jude please 💖

so ik there were a lot of reqs for #11, but this was the first one I received so this will be my #11;)

2nd person pov

“Why do you have chicken in your purse?” You asked your best friend, Natalia as you both looked on at the pitch.

“Not paying for that over prices stadium shit.” Natalia explained, as she happily ate her chicken nuggets in peace while people began to fill in the seats after half time.

You two were both huge Bayern fans. So when they posted on their social media, a giveaway for two tickets up close to the pitch, it didn’t take much for you two to submit about a thousand entries. And somehow, you guys won.

The score was 0-0, against Bayern’s biggest rivals, Dortmund. In honesty, Dortmund usually tended to get thrashed by Bayern, but they were the biggest competition in the Bundesliga.

“Look! Bellingham!” People called from behind you.

You angled your head and saw as Jude Bellingham was leading the charge back from the break onto the pitch. The nineteen year old captain had even the Bayern fans in awe of him.

“I hate him but he’s hella fit.” Natalia admitted, to which you only nodded in response.

He was good yes. Okay fine. He was really good. But you considered him overrated.

“There are way more options for captains though. I don’t know why the nineteen year old is the captain.” You grumbled, honestly a bit angry because of how close Jude had gotten to assisting.

“Says the one who’s no older than nineteen. Also bro, you know he deserves to be captain. Have you seen the way he is on the field. Captain material. And I say this as a lifelong Villa and Bayern fan.” Natalia responded.

You looked to her to see a brow raised in your direction.

“You’re more competitive than half the players I swear.” Natalia laughed.

“Chicken?” She offered, holding her hand out.

You chuckled before waving her hand away.

“Second half’s about to start.” You mumbled.

“WOOOOO MIA SAN MIA!” Natalia cheered, eliciting more cheers from fellow Bayern fans.

“What does Mia San Mia even mean?” You asked her, as Dortmund made their way up the pitch.

Natalia scoffed and turned to you, “You do not deserve to be wearing that Alphonso Davies kit right now.”

“In my defense, I’m not German!” You exclaimed.

“Y/N! I am literally from fucking Ecuador, I don’t know German either but at least I know Mia San Mia! Fake fa-”

She started to say before being cut off by you. Dortmund’s offense was getting suspiciously close to the Bayern net. You were tempted to grimace as Neur was out with a knee injury, not that his replacement was bad by any means.

The stadium almost fell silent as the ball made it to Bellingham’s feet. He was successful in weaving in and out of players, before the ball was deflected. And it was coming straight at you.

Your worst nightmare. You’d love football since you were a little girl. You’d watch it all the time, with or without your family. The one thing that kept you away from live matches as a kid was potentially being hit by a ball. The thought embarrassed you to no end. And now, it was about to happen, in front of tens of thousands of people.

This was what you deserved for sitting in the front row.

“DUCK!” Natalia screamed into your ear, physically pushing you down.

Luckily the ball didn’t hit you, and went flying to the row behind you. Hitting a poor unsuspecting boy.

“Oh shit.” Natalia looked at the wailing kid sympathetically.

You also felt your heart pang in sadness for the clearly hurt boy. But you also thought it was kind of funny. He’d been kicking the back of your seat for the whole first half. And you wanted to smirk and mention karma, but you were better than that.

You grabbed the makeshift ice pack in your bag, which was really just a bag of a lot of ice you’d bought at the stadium and handed it to the boy’s mother.

“I don’t have much but this might help.” You said, placing the bag in the mother’s hands who smiled at you gratefully.

The boy also thanked you, silently calling a truce.

You and Natalia told the boy jokes to help distract him from the pain but eventually it was drowned out by cheering on your side.

“Turn around!” The injured boy gestured.

You did so and saw Jude Bellingham jogging over to your area. Hence why you could barely hear anything. You turned back to see the gleaming boy, figuring it would probably be easier if he was closer to Jude.

So, you picked the boy up and transferred him to your seat, closer to the pitch, while you climbed over to sit a row behind.

Unbeknownst to you, the kind act did not go unnoticed by Jude, who’d seen it while approaching.

“I’m sorry about that bud.” The footballer smiled apologetically, ruffling the kid’s hair.

The boy just smiled, “It’s okay. You weren’t the last one to hit it anyways.”

“You doing better now eh?” Jude smiled.

“Yeah! She helped me by giving me ice and telling me jokes.” The boy answered, gesturing to you while he spoke.

This caused Jude’s eyes to flicker towards your for a second. A smirk found its way onto his face while you started blushing red.

“Ah well your sister seems very nice.” Jude emphasised the “sister”.

The boy quirked his brow.

“She’s not my sister. She just helped me after the ball hit me.” The child explained. “Ah, should’ve figured based off of the opposing kits.” Jude replied, noticing now that you sported a Bayern kit while the child was decked out in BVB gear.

You turned to Natalia who just sat there smugly, watching it all happen.

“Don’t talk much now do you?” Jude asked you, the smirk ever so present on his face.

You wanted to stop from blushing again. But you couldn’t. Instead you had to switch the topic.

“Don’t you have a game to play smart one?” You shot back, snark in your voice as you forced him to turn back to the field where the players were still waiting.

“If I were you, I’d go back to playing now. The quicker you lose, the quicker you get this over with.” You advised.

That flared some sort of pride and fighting spirit in Jude. He smiled to himself turning to go back to the pitch.

But just before that he looked at you and said, “I’ll show you why I’m the golden boy for a reason.” before stocking off.

Within a few seconds, the game resumed.

“I swear the golden boy was Gavi.” Natalia wondered aloud.

And you couldn’t help but laugh.

Approximately 48 minutes later, the match was at a standstill 2-2. Jude had already smirked in your direction after scoring. You however didn’t return anything because what if he had a girlfriend or something that was directed towards?

“Fuck fuck fuck.” Natalia breathed as Adeyemi made his way up the field.

That boy was faster than lightning.

Adeyemi handed it off to Jude who then passed it to Gio, outside of the box. The American faked Alphonso fucking Davies and shot the ball at such an angle that no one expected a goal out of it. But it was. It was a goal indeed. You bit your lip as Dortmund players and fans alike celebrated, going insane.

You could only think to keep your head down to shield yourself from the embarrassment.

15 minutes later

Most fans had left but you and Natalia hung around to take pictures considering how close you were to the field. Your back was currently facing the pitch as Natalia stood on top a seat to get your optimal angles.

“You look so good!” Natalia smiled, clicking away.

But she stopped abruptly.

You noticed.

“Oh are we done? Should we go now?” You asked her.

“Turn.” She commanded.

You whipped you head around to see Jude Bellingham shirtless. Kit in his hand, elbows leaning against the miniature wall.

“You.” You gulped, waiting to get trashed after seeing the look on his face.

“Unfortunate that you guys lost today.” He smiled.

“Yeah well match fixing’s always a possibility. Sure you know a lot about the match fixing.”

You referenced the interview which got Jude fined in the previous year.

Jude’s smile stayed, turning into an ever present smirk.

“Touché I suppose.” Before handing you his kit.

You grasped it, before looking in disgust.

“I don’t do Dortmund kits.” You tried handing it back to him.

You were actually freaking out on the inside.

“This is a Jude Bellingham kit though.” He bit his lip as he maintained eye contact with you.

“Even worse.”

He just laughed.

“Listen sweetheart. I’d take a good look at that kit before you feed it to the dogs.”

And with that, he winked, jogging into the tunnel.

“You better fucking open that kit.” Natalia commanded, holding it up.

Both your eyes shot to something scribbled in the corner.

Call me;) 49*** *** **** -Jude

Your mouth hung wide open at this point. He was into you.

“W fucking rizz Bellingham. W rizz.” Natalia muttered.

“You’re going to be a WAG Y/N.” Natalia’s hands clamped over her mouth.

You rolled your eyes at your best friend’s wild imagination. But secretly, 99% of you, hoped that what she was saying, was true

[justjensenanddean]

Jensen Ackles | Charlotte (North Carolina) Convention, August 20, 2023 | Main Panel

(CreationEnt)

jared prefacing being careful about sag questions and jensen goes “oh i have a handful of stories lined up for you guys” so let’s go (x)

danneel got Jensen an experience driving cool cars and it was at 7 am (x)

“7 am? on a saturday? i’m already not happy” (x)

danneel got Jensen an even to get to drive a fast exotic car around a track but at 7am on a Saturday and he asked if she would come with him and she said “no i’m sleeping” (x)

JENSENS CAR HAD A RAINBOW UNICORN ON THE HOOD AND IT WAS PINK. ITS NAME WAS “sparkles glitter hooves” (x)

his helmet also had a pink unicorn on it. (x)

the car broke on the track 😭😭😭 they only got up to 50mph and it stopped (x)

aw he didn't wait to get another driver he just got in his actual car and went home. Jensen; it was NOT a great experience and i wish i had just stayed in bed (x)

jensen: i hurt my hand the other day by pushing on a closet door and it pinched my palm and i pulled my hand back and a piece of my palm was still in the door (x)

ARROW ASKED HIM IF SHE WANTED HER TO HOLD HIM BC THATS WHAT HE DOES WHEN SHES HURT (x)

jensen just told a story that one of his girls fell and he offered to hold them then he hurt his hand and he heard over his shoulder “… want me to hold you?” (x)

jensen had an emergency kit that phil gave him from season 8 and he opened it and he thought it would have bandages but all it had was salt and matches (x)

“make the bed first thing in the morning” - Jensen (x)

“would you rather have the others’ face for a butt or the other’s butt for a face” (x)

Jensen: yeah id rather have his face for a butt. jared: better wear see thru pants bc you’d have a damn fine ass Jensen: jokes on you i already have a damn fine ass (x)

jensen: I already have a fine ass jared: *chanting* prove it! prove it! (x)

Jensen prefers hard plastic spatulas (x)

jensen reccomends four roses whiskey (x)

fan: advice on senior year or life? jensen: do as much as you can. sign up for clubs. do as much as possible (x)

jensen is telling the baseball/theatre conflict story again he really is troy bolton (x)

in his senior year jensen left baseball early to do a play this man was living high school musical irl (x)

fan; if you were earths ambassador to talk to aliens, what would you ask or show them jared: FACE BUTT jensen: *in alien voice* excuse me can i ASS you a question (x)

LAST QUESTION IS WHATS YOUR FAVORITE VIDEO GAME GROWING UP LETS GO JARED SAYS SUPER SMASH BROTHERS AND JENSEN SAYS GOLDENEYE (x)

jensen saying it’s a me mario with the accent (x)

(outerspaceangie)