#my fury to the remaining drivers

[princelancey]

fuck off, actually fuck off that's a fucking joke

[awearywritersworld]

men are so quick to blame the gods

ryomen sukuna x reader summary: your boyfriend is a heavy sleeper, leaving you to form an unlikely relationship with the curse occupying his body during the late hours of the night. w/c: 2.6k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. angst/fluff. aged up!yuuji. sa is mentioned but it's pretty much just sukuna saying he doesn't condone it. heavy kissing. obvi features yuuji x reader but it's not at all the focus. cursing. sukuna calls you kitten. i'd like to think he's not too ooc in this but im probably delusional. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: am i rehabbing our handsome vicious psychopath? yes<3 loosely inspired by this post (features manga spoilers) of him being v beautiful and poetic series masterlist // masterlist

humans have always irritated the king of curses— pathetic little vermin scurrying around, utterly oblivious to their own weakness.

so it came as quite a shock to him when he awoke after over a millenia, only to find himself trapped inside the body of some teenaged brat.

nearly 7 years later and he's positive there isn't a person he despises more in the universe. not even the cocky six eyes wielder can elicit sukuna's fury the way itadori yuuji so easily does.

that's why he resolved early on to kill his vessel's pretty little girlfriend, an act he hopes might satiate his spite. he's positive nothing would devastate yuuji more.

luckily for you, life has a funny way of working.

you and yuuji are standing at an intersection in the city, the pink-haired man staring at his phone as he tries to piece together the directions to a new sushi restaurant you've been wanting to try.

when the pedestrian sign on the other side of the street blinks, you step out onto the pavement without checking for oncoming traffic.

"what the-" yuuji's confused voice fills your ears just as a rough hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you backward violently.

a car barrels through the spot you'd just been standing, the driver clearly not paying attention to the traffic signal. you look back just in time to see harsh black marks fading from your boyfriend's arm, though the rest of his body has seemingly remained unblemished.

it's an odd sensation for yuuji because he's never lost control to sukuna in such a manner. he doesn't dwell on it long though, as anger blossoms in his chest.

"do not touch her," he scolds the curse occupying his body.

a mouth appears on his cheek and scoffs. "sure. i'll just let her die next time."

"it's okay, yu," you interject before he can retaliate. "thanks, sukuna. i, uh, appreciate it."

he grumbles something incomprehensible, his mouth quickly disappearing. your boyfriend looks at you bemused, but you only shrug. the fact that yuuji had lost control to sukuna doesn't make you feel nervous or threatened. you're grateful that he kept you from being run over, albeit a bit surprised.

as you continue your walk to the the sushi restaurant, you find yourself not quite able to meet yuuji's eye because... well... you haven't exactly been forthright regarding your relationship with the king of curses.

the first night it happens, you're laying in bed eagerly finishing the final volume of a manga you've been reading. yuuji is fast asleep and has been for hours, though you're used to being the night owl in the relationship.

you keep wiping at your eyes, the cheerful ending tugging at your heartstrings and tying the story together in a beautiful way.

"can you stop with your incessant sniveling? this idiot's brain is so rarely quiet and you're ruining it."

you look over to see the eye beneath your boyfriend's is open, staring at you scornfully.

"can you fuck off?" your tone is obviously meant to mock him. "i'm finishing one of my favorite mangas and you're ruining it."

"need i remind you of your place, brat?" he sneers. "it's dreadfully wretched, crying because you don't like the ending to some stupid story."

"since you're so clearly invested, i'll have you know i'm crying because i do like it."

"..and here i thought you couldn't get any more pathetic."

your eye twitches in annoyance. "just because you're mad about being stuck in 'some idiot human's body' doesn't mean you have to go around projecting your feelings of inadequacy onto other people."

you move your hand to cover the mouth on your boyfriend's cheek before sukuna can respond, hissing out in pain just a moment later.

"oh my god, you actually bit me." you inspect the teethmarks on your palm in disbelief.

"just wait until i win control of this body— the punishment you deserve for such insolence. you'd better hope you're miles away, but even then—"

"holy shit, enough already. i'll go to sleep. enjoy your peace and quiet," you growl angrily, flipping off the lamp and turning away from him. for some reason, you still find yourself mumbling, "good night."

sukuna's eye widens before promptly closing, the silence hanging in the air heavily. it's the longest conversation he's had in years and the first casual pleasantry he's heard in a millenia. he tries to feel satisfied that he got what he wanted in the end, before returning to his quiet solitude.

over the next few months, your late nights are graced somewhat frequently by the king of curses. he mainly complains— the friends you hung out with earlier were annoying, the tv's too loud, it took yuuji twenty minutes to exorcise a curse that sukuna could have dealt with in seconds.

it doesn't bother you nearly as much anymore and he's no longer able to get under your skin like he did that first night. it seems as if he's losing his touch, or perhaps he just isn't trying as hard.

it's around one in the morning, a book resting in your lap while your boyfriend snores softly beside you. sukuna's eye pops open, peering over at the text. "you're reading homer?"

your body jerks, startled by his sudden question, but you recover soon thereafter. "yeah, were you two friends or something?"

"no, you fool," he derides. "he lived far before my time."

though you don't comment on it, you find it amusing that your sarcasm had gone over his head. "oh, you're right. how silly of me to think you had friends."

"such profound witticism. i can hardly contain myself."

you sneak a glance over to find he's narrowed his eye at you and you actually giggle. "sorry."

it doesn't dawn on you how bizarre the interaction is, but sukuna abruptly realizes that something feels different. not once before tonight had he made you laugh.

he pushes the thought from his mind. "i did, however, indulge in his works during the heian period."

"really?" you perk up. it's not often you give him your full attention. "what'd you think?"

"i suppose i liked him well enough. one of my favorite lines comes from the poem you're reading."

you motion your hand for him to continue. "well don't be shy. i'm sitting here with bated breath."

he rolls his eye, but speaks nonetheless.

"men are so quick to blame the gods— they say that we devise their misery..." you realize for the first time how gruff his voice is, the deep reverberations sending a shudder down your spine. "but they themselves, in their depravity, design grief greater than the griefs that fate assigns."

his eye flickers between each of yours before you look back to your book, fiddling with the corner of the page. you're suddenly feeling rather shy. "does that mean you think humans are even crueler than you?"

he muses over your question briefly.

"if i recounted how men would flee the villages i burned, leaving their families behind in a selfish attempt to save themselves.. who would you find more revolting?

you swallow nervously. "i.. i don't know."

"what if i told you of the men who would eagerly offer their wives and daughters to me, hoping i'd spare them.. who would you deem more wicked?"

you're so busy avoiding his gaze that you don't see the way he carefully regards you. a question you're unsure you want the answer to tumbles from your lips before you can stop it. "did you accept? the.. the husbands' offers—"

"no," he responds. "i have little interest in unwilling partners."

"oh. well that's, um, good."

he hums in response, leaving you to process everything he's told you.

"you should stop," you blurt out eventually.

"stop what?"

"being nice to me." you wouldn't normally consider discussing literature then reminiscing about the egregious stories of his past life particularly kind, but then again, it is sukuna you're speaking with. "it's weird."

he rolls his eye again. "you're hardly in any position to be giving me orders, you insufferable brat."

"see? that's much better."

"why are you crying?" his tone is even, conveying neither annoyance or concern. truthfully, he has no idea what compelled him to ask in the first place.

you don't answer, hoping he'll leave you alone. you really don't have it in you tonight, even if sukuna's been much more tolerable recently. it's been weeks since you finished reading homer's epic poem.

the moon is already setting and it's just a few days before your date at the sushi restaurant.

when you sniffle again, he calls your name. you don't register that he doesn't say brat or idiot. it's the first time he's used your actual name.

"w-what do you want?"

"i seem to recall asking you a question."

you're laying on your side, facing away from yuuji and by extension, sukuna.

"i'm not crying," you declare.

sukuna briefly wonders why he's stuck dealing with you while yuuji sleeps, but his inward 'annoyance' is half hearted. "you're an awful liar."

you exhale and turn to look at him. the only light in the room is coming from the tv, but it's enough that he can see you clearly. "sometimes.. i can't help but worry about the execution."

yuuji has told you countless times that gojo has a plan, that he won't let anything happen, but you know what the higher ups are capable of.

and while it's down right shameful, you know that much, it's not only your boyfriend you worry about these days. sukuna's become so commonplace in your life, you almost look forward to talking with him at night.

"the thought of losing yuuji... of losing.. you.. it scares me," you murmur.

your words stir up feelings he's never once experienced and it's confusing to him. "i'd have figured you'd at least be pleased to be rid of me."

"well, i-i kind of thought we were friends now," you share without thinking.

"don't flatter yourself."

he regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth and the guilt he feels as he watches your face fall is unbecoming of a being so powerful. you apologize meekly, shifting (too late) to hide your hurt.

he can't remember a moment in which he's hated being trapped in his vessel's god forsaken body more. he wants to reach out to you, even if the idea feels entirely foreign to him.

but he can't, so he just sighs. "if you think i'm going to let a few feebleminded sorcerers execute me and the brat, you're even more foolish than i thought."

you peer at him, the smallest smile gracing your lips when you realize that's probably as close to an apology as sukuna would ever get.

"promise?"

for fuck's sake. he feels utterly pathetic. completely deplorable. laughable, even—

"yes," he states impassively. "now go to sleep."

"okay." your smile is just a little wider as your fingertips brush the spot below his eye and above his mouth. you wonder if he can even feel it. "good night, sukuna."

"...night, brat."

less than a week after sukuna saves your life at the intersection, yuuji kisses you goodbye as he heads out to a mission. he assures you he'll be early tonight, as he only has to exorcise a semi-grade one cursed spirit in roppongi.

though things don't go quite as planned because in addition to the semi-grade, he finds himself standing before two special grades. he manages to defeat one of the special grades, but the other two leave him badly hurt, his breathing labored.

he has to beg sukuna to switch out with him. the king of curses hasn't forgotten his promise to you and he's no fool— it's clear this is an ambush by the higher ups— but he'll be damned if he wasn't going to have a little fun with the brat first.

he makes quick work of the curses, each of them going rigid with fear as soon as he appears, and it soon becomes apparent that yuuji is too weakened to take back control of his body just yet.

at last, sukuna has his long yearned for freedom and a new world at his fingertips, but there's just one problem... all he wants to do is find you.

when the lock to your apartment clicks, your eyes shift to the door, an excited grin on your face. you can't hide your shock when it isn't your boyfriend that steps inside.

you don't say anything at first, simply following his frame across the room as he approaches you. he leans against the wall a few feet away from where you're sitting on the couch, folding his arms across his chest.

"seems your concerns about the execution weren't unwarranted."

"w-what?!" you exclaim, rising to your feet and taking a step toward him. "what happened?"

he relays the story to you, emphasizing how 'unimpressive' yuuji's power was and how 'terribly simple' it was for him to finish the job his vessel couldn't.

you narrow your eyes at him, only half joking when you ask, "what are you doing here, then? shouldn't you be off pillaging tokyo or something?"

he chuckles. "such a dark mind you have. it wounds me to hear you assume the worst of me."

you bite your lip to hide your smile. "just figured it'd save time."

he closes the space between you and though you can feel the heat radiating from his body, you don't shy away from him. instead, your eyes trail over the dark lines adorning his face and chest.

he reaches up and your breath catches in your throat when the back of his fingers ghost over your neck. his nails graze your skin and a sly smirk forms on his face. "aren't you frightened? it'd be all too easy to kill a little thing like you."

"but you won't."

he can't tell if your assuredness pisses him off, but it certainly makes his heart rate pick up. his hand now occupies the space where your neck meets your shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle. "what has you so convinced?"

"well you saved me, didn't you? and.. and you kept your promise."

he hums in response and your hand seems to act of its own accord when it reaches up to rest atop his. any lingering sense of amusement is gone in an instant, the air now fraught with tension.

"so why are you here, sukuna?" you murmur.

the king of curses has never known goodness. he's wrought untold destruction and misery, his name inspiring fear even after millenia. he's a legend— a god, even— yet here you are staring up at him and he swears the look in your eyes is almost tender.

"i don't know."

"and you had the nerve to call me an awful liar."

you know you're taking a risk when you lean up and press your lips to his. he freezes for a moment before his mouth begins to move against yours tentatively. his arm stays at his side, so you grab his hand, moving it to your waist.

it's as if that flips a switch in sukuna. he backs you up against the wall somewhat roughly and you can feel him smile against your lips when you let out a squeak of surprise.

he uses the opportunity to take your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging at it before moving to your neck with the intention of leaving a trail of marks across your delicate flesh.

you know you should care, but you just can't bring yourself to tell him to stop. you're too preoccupied with the feeling. he revels in the little gasps he's pulling from your throat, in the way you grab weakly at his biceps.

"you are divine, kitten," he growls. "been waiting so long to touch you."

just as he finishes speaking, he pulls back a few inches and his body stiffens.

"damn it. not now, you stupid brat—"

the words die in his throat as the black lines begin to fade and you're met with the perplexed face of your boyfriend. he breaths out your name, clearly worried. "what.. what happened?"

[cheriladycl01]

Kinktober 16/10/2024 Charles Leclerc - FaceFucking

Plot: Charles always takes his frustration out on you after a bad race.

Warnings: Kinktober, SMUT, facefucking. Blowjob, sex etc 18+ Minors DNI

The weekend hadn’t started of great, it was a wet one and Charles wasn’t confident going into FP1 coming out with a mediocre place and not pushing as much as he could have. Going into FP2 and he pushed to much, skidding off into the gravel and destroying the floor of his car.

FP3 and he was nervous to damage the car before qualifying, so took it slower on the Intermediates as it wasn’t as wet as it had been. And finally Qualifying where he’d had his lowest result of the season in P11.

Even thought you’d tried to be there for Charles it was difficult, he wasn’t the easiest person to cheer up on a frustrating race weekend.

The race itself is as horrendous. You sat watching from the garage wrapped up in a Ferrari hoodie that was Charles but the weather was much colder than anyone had anticipated.

You were biting your nails the whole time, watching the call outs of when to switch tyres and where he needed to improve. Until Piastri comes up behind him, going for the overtake, you watch as Charles defends but ends up confused at the margins because of the spray back and sends him and Oiatri into the wall causing a red flag halfway into the race.

You watch anxiously as Charles angrily gets out the car and the medical car picks them up and takes them back as all the other cars start to come into the pit lane.

A DNF …

He wasn’t happy, whatever and you could tell by the way he’d stormed though the garage to Fred to talk to all the mechanics and engineers about what had happened.

You remain in your place watching as the race resumes cheering with Rebecca for Carlos as he managed to get himself up into P1.

“Drivers room, now” Charles says as he slips past you, all you can do is scoff. He hadn’t spoken to you properly for the whole race weekend and now he wants to? You didn’t think so. You stayed with Rebecca, watching until the end of the race. And just to spite him even more you go to the podium celebration where Carlos, Lando and Max are all on the podium celebrating their wins.

“I should probably go find Charles, but have fun out at the club tonight yeah? Tell Carlos I’m proud of him!” You smile at her, squeezing her wrist in a happy and comforting manner before forcing your way through the podium crowds and getting back to the Ferrari motor home.

You anxiously make your way in, not knowing what state you’ll walk in on Charles in.

You’d kind of poked an already angry bear and didn’t want to know the consequences quite yet.

You got to his Drivers room, lightly knocking on the door not wanting to invade his privacy despite having been together for years, it still felt wrong to just walk in.

“Go away” a gruff voice commands

“Charlie it’s me, please let me in?” You ask hoping that he will come and unlock the door that you’d just tried the handle on. After some stomps and the sound of the door unlatching you’re pulled into the room, a small yelp coming from your mouth as you practically fall into your boyfriend.

“Where were you? I told you to come here” he says grumpily looking over you to see you looking a little guilty.

“Look I wanted to watch the end of the race as the team was winning” you explain pulling him in to you so you can kiss up his jaw in an apologetic sort of way.

“No no no, they weren’t! The team wasn’t winning because I didn’t get points I didn’t even make podium” he argues a face full of fury.

“You’re not the only Ferrari driver Charles! Carlos won today and I wanted to watch his podium to support him and Rebecca” you argue and he just scoffs.

“What about me! What about MY support huh?” He argues and you are quiet for a second realising he does in fact have a point.

“You’re a grown ass adult Charles, you don’t need me here 24/7 because my god you have barley spoken to me this weekend” you admit.

You guys just stare at each other for a few seconds before you both let a sigh release from you, still holding eye contact with one another.

“Fucking come here” he grunts out, before pulling you in not waiting for you make a choice and smashing his lips against yours. He holds the back of your head his fingers tangling in your hair.

He forces you down on your knees, he pulls his pants down his cock springing up and hitting his fresh team shirt that he’d put on after his post race shower.

“I’m in charge alright?” He asks and you just nod.

“Use your words” he commands and before you can reply you gulp back.

“I understand” you say and he remained standing which confused you. You get tell he wanted a blowjob, but he normally sat down so he could lean back and fully relax and take it all in.

“Gonna fuck that pretty face so good” he groans looking over you, tracing a finger off your already puffy lip from the kiss full of frustration you’d shared earlier.

Charles had actually never been this aggressive with you. But there was something about it, you on your knees below him, his cock looking as red and angry as him right in your eye line.

“Open up” he asks and you do, he grips the back your hair into a ponytail to hold you in place, before he helps himself into your mouth. He sinks in, and starts a slow pace, not going all the way in to help you adjust.

He holds the back of your head still before he starts to pound his cock, his pelvis hitting the tip of your nose and his cock forcing its way deep down into your throat.

A moan comes from you vibrating on him making his thrusts into your mouth become more erratic.

“That’s it. Feel so good” he moans holding your head as his hips snap in and out with vigor. His grip on your hair is so tight, your scalp starts to burn from the pressure.

You start to tap out on his thigh with how quickly he’s going tears are building in your eyes and you can feel yourself start to gag around him.

He stops, holding himself there for a second as he looks down at you, seeing you try pulling away before you lets you come of for a breath.

“Fucking hell Charles” you laugh out looking up at him. He gives you a small look before pushing back in.

He was pressing into you more as he groans and shoots his load down the back of your throat which you struggle to contain and swallow.

“Fuck” you groan as he pulls your hair back to get you off him.

He lifts you up, pulling your panties to one side and slipping in with ease on how worked up he’d gotten you just from fucking your face with so much energy and passion.

You were both incredibly worked up that he was cumming for the second time and you were tightening around him with a vice grip. Your hands in his hair tugging on the end locks.

“Fuck I love you so much”

“I love you too, I’m so sorry about this weekend I wasn’t nice to you” he says and you nod.

“I know but it’s okay. I understand” you say placing a kiss on his lips as you hell him pull out and jump down.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[pseudowho]

"How well can you drive?"

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

Nanami Kento's driving skills are put to the test, as the reader decides to put her mouth to good use.

Warnings: You've heard enough, 18+ as usual

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"How well can you drive?" you asked Kento, elbow leaning against the tinted windows as the car engine rumbled along underneath you. You had a long journey ahead, the weather was fine, and you felt...naughty.

Kento kept his eyes ahead as he frowned, bemused; "Well..I've never been in an accident that was my fault." You hummed to yourself, not satisfied with his answer. Kento sighed.

"I passed my test with just one minor." You hummed again, legs crossed, fidgeting in your seat.

"I've...never made you feel unsafe in the car, have I?"

"Oh god, no. Never." Kento looked satisfied.

"Then I'm a pretty good driver, I'd say," glancing at you as your eyes glinted, "...why?" You looked to Kento, biting your lip, eyes wicked.

Your hand was resting on Kento's thigh now, and you stroked it, fingers creeping to his inner thigh and higher with each movement. Kento let out a breathless cough, and gripped your hand. Stopping at traffic lights, he fixed you with a deep frown.

"Behave yourself," he scolded, "that is grossly irresponsible." You pouted, eyes still glimmering deviously, heat pooling in your belly as he told you off, only spurring you on.

"Well...let's see how good of a driver you are, hmm?" Unclicking your belt, you leaned over the centre of the car to drape yourself onto his lap. He reached over you, stunned, changing gears as the traffic lights changed and the car shifted to life again.

Your mouth was on his thighs, leaving soft little nips up the inside of them, as you gently unbuttoned the lowest buttons of his shirt, untucking it from his trousers as you stroked the sensitive skin at the bottom of his abs. Kento coughed again, alarmed, desire trickling through him, split with anger at how poorly behaved you were being.

"This is a terrible idea," he grumbled, as your mouth drifted to his v-line, kissing along the soft patch of honey-coloured hair there, leaving lovebites and marks above his belt. Your fingers gently unbuckled his belt, pushing it aside. You were satisfied to feel Kento's body betraying him, palming the outside of his zipper as his cock swelled underneath it.

Kento's foot stuttered on the accelerator as you squeezed him through his trousers and the car juddered forwards-- "fuck," Kento hissed, holding your hand against his zipper, looking down at you with restrained fury. You giggled. He sighed.

"Whatever it is you want to do," he pressed out through gritted teeth, "I'm sure I'll remain an exemplary driver." He shot you a stern look.

"So finish what you've started." You didn't need to be told twice. Kissing your way down his belly again, you unbuttoned his trousers, and, gripping his zipper between your teeth, slowly undid it. Kento gulped-- "You are feral," he hissed--concentrating hard on the road as he felt his cock twitch in his boxers.

With you slipping a hand inside his trousers and squeezing his rigid cock, Kento sat up in his seat for a moment to push his trousers down enough that he sprang free, long, thick and pink-tipped against his belly.

Kento groaned as your hot little mouth immediately encircled the tip of his cock, your hand gripping him at the base, as you swirled your tongue around him with a happy hum, licking off the precum as Kento gasped, eyes drifting closed for just a moment. Kento focused on gear changes, his brain stuttering when you cupped his balls as he altered his speed, another car pulling in front of him. He groaned as you sucked, sinking your mouth down his cock.

Kento's head swam, low moans rolling out of him as you worked your mouth up and down his length, tapering your lips almost closed around his tip before sucking him back in, tongue licking firmly against the underside of his cock. One of Kento's hands left the wheel to sink into your hair, urging your mouth down so your nose scraped against his hipbone.

"Ah, ah-- shit--" Kento swore, hips flicking upwards as you gagged, the back of your throat closing around the tip of his cock, "just like that-- please, shit, please--" Kento braked hard at another set of traffic lights, relieved as the car jolted to a stop, his hands white-knuckled on the wheel and the back of your head, pulling your hair at the roots as he pressed your head down against him.

You moved your head quickly now, his cock drenched with spit and pre-cum as your throat bobbed around him, intermittently gagging around his throat as Kento groaned, hand loose on the back of your head as you swallowed around him, Kento's eyes squeezed shut in agonising pleasure.

The car behind yours beeped and Kento swore, pulling off quickly as he realised he'd missed the lights changing, his orgasm approaching, pleasure ebbing through his thighs and lower back. Focusing on gear changes had Kento nearly stalling the car, and you took him deep into your throat, moaning around him.

Kento nearly went blind with pleasure as the vibrations of your moan shot through his cock, his hand flying off the gearstick to grab your head again, pressing your nose down to his hipbones again as he came, his hips bucking as spurts of cum shot down your throat, pulling your head back so he could feel it settle on your tongue.

He gasped, his skin prickling with the aftershocks of his orgasm as you languidly licked him clean, looking at him with that same wicked glint in your eye as you swallowed. Kento groaned again, shaky and trying to compose himself as he continued to drive, quiet for a few moments as he indicated and pulled into a service station.

His head dropped back against the seat and a drip of sweat ran down his forehead, and Kento scowled at you as you grinned, happy with yourself.

"First, we grab a drink," grumbled Kento, "then, we see how well you can drive."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Look, I promise I'll behave myself and write some fluff next week.

[chronicallyonline101]

OH WAIITERRR!!! May i have your finest glass of leone abbacchio x reader pretty please! One where the reader finds Abbacchio beat up on the curbside only to find out he got into some kind of bar fight! So she pulls up and is like "Again??! Get in," and takes him home, patches him up, FLUFFY STUFF!! WITH A CHERRY ON TOP

ORDER UP!!! Here is your glass i do hope you enjoy! (i wrote this on mobile so if the formatting is weird thas why soz pooks(

Nights of White Satin

Leone Abbacchio x reader || Oneshot, Fluff

You traced your thumb along the bottom of his bruised lip; bloody, illuminated by nothing but an old, flickering streetlamp in the midst of a sad, gloomy night. His purple lipstick had long since worn off, but the mottled blue's of his injuries did well to replace it. Despite how you tried to peer at him, his eyes always managed to evade yours - glued to the ground in what was a mixture of shame and fury welling together in an ombre cocktail.

Cars flew by behind you. Tires screeching against wet concrete, the thrum of engines and splashing puddles but none of it mattered. You fixated on the man in front of you with clear concern. Concern that only had him biting his cheek with disinterest.

"Leone... what happened?" You leant closer to him, a frown settled across your lips as you gently moved your hand to cup at his delicate cheek and redirect his gaze toward yourself.

For a moment, Abbacchio allowed himself the comfort of your presence; leaning into your touch like a feline starved of affection, but when your fingers brushed across a stinging open wound he hissed in a breath through his teeth and reeled backward. Now grounded, he reprimanded himself for getting so comfortable and took to curling his hands into fists.

"It's nothing," He grouched, turning his gaze to the floor once again. "Just some work things. You know how it is."

You leant back a little, swallowing thickly. Of course... Abbacchio's 'work'. The thing you would call organised criminal activity was just a normal Tuesday for him - to no avail, looking at him here, sat in the gutter with a broken wine bottle to his side... you felt that perhaps what had happened was less serious than what he was making it out to be.

With a short, frustrated huff, you stood upright. Hands on your hips as you looked up wistfully. The sky was clouded, not that it mattered; you could never see the stars in the city, but the sight of such gloom reminded you of how unsafe it was to be on these streets of Napoli late into the night.

"You got into another fight again, didn't you?"

He winced at your question. Tensing when he felt your gaze turn accusatory. There was no way he could deny it. The amount of times you'd find him in this condition - or worse - had made such a task impossible. Instead, he let out a groan and while burying his head into his hands mumbled:

"He made fun of my hair."

His words were followed by a shameful silence.

You sighed, pinching at your temple before decidely shoving a hand into your pocket and fumbling about for your car keys. Abbacchio lifted his gaze to watch you. After a few seconds, you pried the jangling things from your pocket and pressed at a button to unlock your car which had been hastily parked atop of a curb only a few feet away.

You turned toward the vehicle with a fervent urgency. "Come on then."

His brows furrowed, and for a moment he remained still, watching with an intense glower while you clicked open the door to the drivers seat and hopped inside.

Upon realising he hadn't followed, you honked the car horn at him with urgency. It was with that, he slowly arose to his feet; wobbling unsteadily for a few seconds. Glass crunched beneath his shoes as he walked toward the passenger seat to your car, and as he took his place beside you.

You stuffed the key into the ignition, twisted, and soon the two of you were off. At first, the atmosphere in the car was silent. Filled only by the gentle rumbling of its engine, but it was too much for Abbacchio. Silence meant thought, and right now he didn't want to deal with his thoughts.

So he spoke: "What are you doing?"

"Taking you home." A small huff left your nose, condensating against the cold air. Your grip around the wheel tightened, praying to anything out there that he would drop it at that.

You wanted to help him, but he was so damn stubborn. When his brows rose in distress, you knew he'd put up a fight:

"You don't know where I live." He griped, and crossed his arms over his chest in disobedience. He cocked his head in the direction of the window, watching with hazy yellowish eyes as the flashing world passed by.

Another sigh passed your lips as you admitted defeat. "My home. We're going to my home, Leone."

"Why? I don't want to---"

"---I'm trying to help you. Please... let me help."

For a moment, you risked peeling your eyes away from the road. Wide and pleading, you watched longingly while he glared out the window beside him. His silver hair glimmered prettily against the night sky; the moons shadow befell him like a cotton blanket and even in a roughed up, bloody state he was so... perfect. So radiant. An image of tragedy yet glowing with hope.

"Your my friend." You decidely went on. "And I like you."

And at your words, Abbacchio bit into his bottom lip to hide a whimper of utter sorrow.

A friend. His friend. You were his friend.

The venomous thorns of guilt coiled around his heart like a snake; he was wreaked with shame. You were so good to him, such a kind, loving person and here he was - a criminal. A delinquent.

How many times had you found him at the side of the road? How many times had you welcomed him into the warmth of your home? Bathed his wounds in salt? Patched him up with a hug and a pat on the back?

It was sickening, to think of how often you opened your heart to him and how little he gave back. Every night he found himself here with you he put you in danger, it was cruel and selfish, and yet he loved every second of it. As nonchalant as he tried to be, he loved the attention you gave him.

Such is why, though he grumbled and complained, he never once stopped you from taking him home. Never halted his footing as he traipsed along behind you and never snatched your housekeys from your palms; he watched curiously all the while you welcomed him into your abode, sitting with compliance on your couch as you ushered about in the dark to try and a first aid kit.

When you finally settled down beside him, there was a small cotton ball clutched between your fingers. Doused in isopropyl alcohol; you lifted it up to gently press at an open wound. He winced and flinched backward,

"You need to stop getting into these fights." You tutted at him, relocating the cotton ball to his lip where you then cleared away his smudging lipstick.

There was a huff, but he moatly stayed silent. Leaning into your touch. Your eyes lifted to meet his, curious and attentive; he swallowed thickly, adams apple bobbing against the curve of his neck. The room grew warm while you held each others glaze, and with a light, awkward cough you broke away from the stare to dash the now red cotton ball to the side.

"Did you get hurt badly?"

He scoffed, turning his head to look to the side. "No. I left him worse for wear."

There was a short laugh. A rare sound, coming from him; and though it was quiet, it was honest. It told you he wasn't as grumpy as he made himself out to be and at that, you smiled.

"Mm. I feel bad. Maybe I should go back and help him out too, eh?" You laughed at your own joke, reaching down to grab at some gauze for his wounds.

You heard him grunt above you and failed to notice the expression of discomfort that befell his face. "I'd rather you stay, actually... I like you being here."

You paused. Lifting yourself up to look him in the eyes, brow quirked in a smug perplexion.

"You like it when I patch you up?" You leant closer to him; you could feel his breath fanning against your face, his breath once again hitching at your sudden closeness. He could feel heat rising to his cheeks.

His lips parted for a moment. He thought that perhaps you were going to go further. That maybe, you'd press your lips to his... but you didn't. He was left sourly dissapointed when instead you took to pressing the gauze against his wounded cheek.

"I do." He mumbled.

He went quiet, after that. Growing shy, unsure of himself or what he was even saying. He was pretty drunk, to be fair; he'd likely regret how mushy he was getting, but right now he was happy. He was content. His body ached like a battered banana, but every touch your fingers danced upon his fair skin had him leaning closer with serenity.

When you were done cleaning him up you packed away the first aid kit and he watched for a while as you teetered about putting things away and preparing both of you tea. He hovered behind you for a while and once you were done, wormed his way into your bed; the two of you shared it for the night because, well, he was injured and needed the bed and it was stupid to let you get a bad back on the couch because of stupid societal norms regarding bed sharing. And if he did reach out to hold you in the night, so what?

Abbacchio liked you a lot. He hated having you worry for him so much, but... he also loved how you treated him. It was gentle. Loving; thing's he could never have as a skilled mafioso. It was selfish for him to seek you out like this but at the same time, he knew he wouldn't stop. He'd get into more bar fights, he'd find himself in more scuffles and at the end of each day, he'd find himself in your house; your embrace; he'd find himself wrapped in your love.

(I HOPE THIS IS GOOD!!! IF NOT I CAN CHANGE IT PLS LMK!!!! to the ppl that sent in the Kira and Melone reqs I'm almost done with them! :) im just being lazy)

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Max Saving You From A Group Of War Boys

Max Rockatansky X FemReader

Rating: M

Warnings: Blood, mentions of death, rotting bodies, stealing, vehicle accident, suggestive materials (reader is worried she'll be placed in Immortan Joe's harem), injuries

Word Count: 2.1k

(A/N:) I have had a heck of a time getting this bad boy finished. But I couldn't have got it done in more perfect timing with the Furiosa movie out in theaters! I'm going very soon and hopefully there will be more Max inspiration take place cause I love Fury Road! I rewatched it here recently and my love for Max has been kindled once more! So hopefully this helps feed my fellow Mad Max fangirls! Enjoy and until next time happy reading! ~Countess

To survive in the wastelands you have to do anything and be willing to suffer any consequences. You could always lay over and just die, letting the vermin that scuttled about in the sands, take care of the remains. Or you could stand and fight, taking whatever you need no matter who it's from. That's how you've survived for so long, scavenging, taking from unlucky fellow survivors that just so happen to be in your path. Food, water, clothing, guzzolene, anything of value it was all fair game. Your biggest score, was your car. Though you didn't take it from anyone living. Raiders had come across some poor sap, killing him and taking everything of value, except for his car. It had taken some doing but you found the key buried under the sand close to the rotting body of the man who had just found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. His loss became your gain. Now you could make it across in different areas of desert in less time. Though the need for guzzolene became a problem. So far you had had good luck being able to get it whenever you needed it. Though you knew for certain that eventually your luck would run out.

And run out it did. Unfortunately you had grown cocky with your string of wins. The tires of your car spun, throwing up clouds of sand as you tried to gain traction on the loose ground. You released the pedal, quickly shifting into all wheel drive. With a roar from the engine the car finally burst forward, pinning you back. The group of war boys behind you yelling as the chase was on. You hit the steering wheel cursing yourself for screwing up so severely, you'd be lucky to make it out alive. You had seen the war boys yards away and you knew they hauled all the equipment they needed, thanks to Immortan Joe. If you could score off of them, you'd be set for a month. But it hadn't been easy and though your skills was above average you didn't get to swipe one thing until they had swarmed you. Now you were trying everything to get away. Dodging lances and hooks that would kill you in an instant, you blinked back against the sand in your eyes. You hadn't had your car long enough to become an elite driver yet and they were gaining fast. Despair crushed your lungs as one war boy pulled up beside you. You darted away only to run into another war boy rig. The two drivers started to pull towards one another, pinning you in between them.

Your hands shook as you gripped the steering wheel harder. The war boys cackled and spit, toying with you before they ended you.

"Bring her to Immortan," they crowed. "Bring her to him! He'll take care of her!"

They all agreed and the two vehicles pulled away, leaving you free. With the pressure off the sides, your car slid fishtailing and you lost control instantly. The war boys only got louder as your car went airborne and crashed down on it's hood. Your face smashing against the steering wheel as your car began to roll over repeatedly. The last roll and you were ejected from the shattered windshield. The hot sand cushioned you, but it wasn't much as you skidded to a stop. Your chest wheezing as you tried to breathe. Your car destroyed and your life forfeit, any hope of living left you. The one thing that you wished to happen was the war boys finishing you here and now, you heard what Immortan Joe did to women he liked or wished to continue his line with. You blinked at the sand as several of the war boys raced towards you.

"Immortan Joe will be pleased with us," one sneered. "Steal from Immortan and pay the consequences."

You shook your head, trying to clear your sight. Apparently you had hit your head harder than you first realized as the illusion of a man walking towards you, refused to dissipate. No he only got closer and you surely knew the Grim Reaper was now on his way to bring about your end. You'd gladly take his hand if it meant that the suffering would end and you wouldn't have to face a fate worse than death.

"Eh what's that there?"

Okay maybe you weren't so crazy as the war boys were seeing the being too. His arm raised and gunfire had the war boys scattering while two of them fell beside you. A small flicker of hope kindled, unless you were trading an end brought by Immortan Joe's battle fodder for this stranger. Though if he wanted to end you, you were pretty positive that he would have ended you already. You were an easy target unlike the war boys that were scurrying around, trying their best to fight back. Screams and thuds surrounded you as the man only kept stepping forward. Not backing down or flinching at the bullets and explosions all coming towards him. When he was close enough for your hazy vision did you finally get a good look. With short hair and a stocky build, he was quite handsome for a desert dweller. Though he looked healthy it didn't mean that he had lived an easy life. A haunted look was in his eyes and his face would twitch every now again. Something was wrong with him, but beggars couldn't be choosers as he was saving your butt.

The last war boy fell to the sand, spraying blood from his wounds and you felt well enough to sit up. You whimpered at the pain shooting through your head but when the stranger knelt before you, you quickly bit back any more noises.

"Took a tumble," he mumbled.

"Just a little one," you agreed spitting a mouthful of blood out.

He rose back up looking through all the now abandoned vehicles and even searched through the wreckage of yours. You felt a little indignant as he took several items out of yours. Sure they were stolen goods, but you had pilfered them fair and square. You attempted getting up, your shaky legs barely keeping you up. Attempting a step, you stumbled and quickly caught yourself.

"That's my stuff in my car," you glared. Though you hoped that he would listen, there was no way you could fight him, if he wanted to.

He didn't reply just kept digging before he pulled out your worn pack. You protested loudly before he threw it at your feet. He still didn't say a word as he started searching through the war boy's vehicles and even going further and searching the war boy's pockets. When he decided that he had searched and grabbed everything of value, he handed you another bag and tank of guzzolene and jerked his head towards the direction that he had come from. You knew that if you wanted to survive the night you would need to follow him. He had proven himself trustworthy so far and your injuries were becoming worse, though your legs had finally steadied enough to walk.

On unsteady feet you remained close, the stranger not saying a word but waving at the air every little bit. Surely you didn't just survive the war boys only to be taken out by some mental man seeing ghosts? His car came into view, worn and beaten up, but sturdy and reliable looking. Tossing his gear in the back seat, he looked back and waved you forward.

"Why," you sighed, suddenly becoming dizzy. You wanted to ask why he rescued you? Why was he bringing you with him? But your adrenaline infused energy finally hit E and you collapsed to the ground.

"Don't go to sleep," he muttered suddenly at your side. Tapping at your cheek. "Wake up."

"Tired..."

He shook you harder, "Wake up."

You couldn't answer, losing the battle with the darkness overtaking your vision. And then you knew nothing else.

The rumbling of tires was all you could hear as you came in and out of consciousness. The sun was still so bright and the mystery man behind the wheel muttered to himself constantly. Promises dripping from his tongue and you licked your chapped lips before succumbing once more to the darkness.

You had no idea how much time had passed in your unconscious state, until at last your eyes opened and you were able to remain awake. A small fire crackling in the background provided a little bit of illumination in a small musty cave. Your body hurt and the ache in your head had your temples pounding a horrible drumbeat. Across the way your savior leaned up against the cave wall. His body lurched forward and his chest heaved as his eyes opened. You jerked, surprised by his sudden movement. He shook his head, rubbing at his eyes before his attention was drawn to you. He took a cup that sat by his leg and moved towards you.

"Drink," he muttered holding the dented tin cup to your lips. The water was warm and gritty from dirt but you didn't care as you gulped the entire contents down, but still your throat burned for more. Wordlessly he filled it back up and brought more of the precious resource to you.

"Why," you croaked when you finally had your fill.

He shrugged.

"There has to be a reason why you helped me?"

He shrugged again.

"Stubborn fool," you retorted. After a long, quiet, and awkward pause you finally spoke again, "Thank you."

This time he grunted.

Sitting up, it took a moment for the cave to stop spinning before you were able to see only one of him again. You scrounged around in your bag, searching for the bit of dried lizard you had kept. Finding it, you ripped it in half and offered him the larger piece. Sort of an offering of peace and that you could be a friend he could trust. He took it, before devouring it quickly.

"I wasn't going to take it from you," you laughed while ripping a bite off of yours. "Now that we have broke the proverbial bread, aka dried lizard maybe we can have an actual conversation now?"

Once again he shrugged and you really were fighting the urge to throw something at him.

"Gotta name at least," you asked, unwilling to give up. If he could be stubborn so could you.

He glanced around, his fingers tapping against the metal brace on his knee. Finally he sighed and turned dark eyes onto you.

"Max."

Finally a start. You gave him your name before sticking out your hand. Reluctantly he took it but he did shake your hand. Silence filled the cave again and you were beginning to feel exhausted again. You yawned gaining his attention.

"Get some rest," Max said his boots scuffing against the ground as he stood up. "We move in the morning."

Morning came so quickly, the fire had been doused and Max had packed up everything. The cave floor bare with no signs of someone staying there. You thought that you'd look around and he'd be gone, but his silhouette filled the cave entrance blocking out the majority of the harsh sun rays. Sitting up, you gained his attention and he nodded to his car.

"Can I ask why you're saving me now," you asked once in the passenger seat.

Max sighed, "Maybe I just want to redeem myself of all the times I failed."

His gaze towards you, looked sad, tired, and lost. Your heart broke and you could understand that ache buried within him. Why he seemed distant, but kind. This world had it's way of taking anything bright and lovely and tainting it in the worst way possible. Max started the engine and started to shift it into gear when your hand covered his.

"This world is ugly," your voice wavered causing Max to cock his head. "But that doesn't mean it has to make us ugly in the process. I've done things I regret, stealing, taking from others to survive. But I always want to reach out that helping hand when I can. Like you did for me. I owe you a lot now Max, maybe this was just a chance meeting or maybe it's meant for something more."

He nodded, shifting into gear and roaring off. The wheels churning dirt into a cloud. Honestly you both didn't know what was in store ahead, and it wasn't set in stone that you would remain with Max. But right now it felt right and you wanted to see where this path would take you. Maybe this was a chance of redemption for two hurt people to find their reason and place in a world gone mad.

[exhelluvafan]

“Well, FUCK you, Stolas! You spring this ‘feelings’ bullshit onto me, are you kidding me right now?!” Like a bolt of lightning, the imp shot into the air, shattering the doors as it closed in on Stolas with a menacing growl. “Can I get a goddamn minute to think after everything you put me through, you pompous, rich, ASSHOLE?!” Stolas froze as Blitzø’s words reverberated in the empty room, his body stiffening. A year’s worth of pent-up rage erupted from Blitzø like molten magma as he paced frantically. "Treat me like one of your little BUTLER imps, you royals think you can manipulate us whenever you want. You toy with our emotions because you believe yourselves superior. And I'm sorry Your Highness, but I won't drop everything for you. That sexy cowboy was one thing, but I have a life beyond fucking you, EVERY MONTH. Do you think I owe you a rescue? Fuck no. This appointment is important. My father Cash was a royal fuck-up who only cared about himself. And I swore to be different. I adopted Loona five years ago, and she's my pride and joy. I've made mistakes, this is Hell after all, but I'm not your toy, I'm not your 'hero' and I'm certainly not going to fit into this sick fantasy you made, only a coward would hide away like that! Why dump this on me NOW?! Well, I'm not letting you, bitch...L̴̨̨̩̃͗̔͌͑E̴̢͍͈̩̳̋̓͒͘T̵͉͖͛'̴̡͚̞̐̃̆͝͝Ș̴̔̓͊͛̿ ̵̢̛̹͝G̵͕̲̋̓̈́̑O̴̧̺̫̞͗͑!̷͉̥͆" Blitzø landed behind Stolas with a thunderous roar, towering over him. His teeth were bared, wings flared, and red and black electricity crackled between his knuckles, a potent manifestation of his hatred for the pathetic demon. He waited for whatever came next. “Blitzø…” Stolas glanced over his shoulder, and Blitzø was met with an intensity of rage. But as quickly as it flared, it was gone, replaced by... wait, what? This motherfucker was crying.  "I thought so very highly of you," Stolas' voice cracked as tears welled up in his many eyes. His lip trembled. "I never imagined you could think so low of me... after everything I've done, everything I've given up for you." Despite the red-hot hostility coursing his veins, Blitzø grimaced as guilt began to bubble up in his gut. For a second too long, he thought about what he’d just said. “Stolas, I—“ He stopped himself, God, what was he on about?! The bird really did groom him. "So," he said, “You seriously think I'd ever think highly of you? After everything you put me through? What you forced me to do for the past year?!" Stolas remained motionless as a statue in the spacious room, bathed in the indigo light streaming through the stained-glass windows. “WELL?!” The imp’s voice cleaved the tense silence, sharp as a knife cutting through the fog. “Blitzø…” Stolas glanced at him, still with his “broken face”. The boss imp glowered at him. “Keep your shitty book, I’m done. Goodbye, Stolas.” Nonchalantly, Blitzø approached a nearby window. With a sharp blow from his gun, he shattered the glass. As he tumbled out, he flipped both middle fingers at Stolas, who glared back with eyes burning like hot coals. Ignoring his opponent's fury, Blitzø caught himself mid-air before gracefully descending to his van below. Sliding into the driver’s seat, Blitzø sat in stunned silence as he felt an immediate lightness in his chest. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he didn’t bother to wipe them away. He was free, the loss of the grimoire didn’t matter—this was what he truly needed. And God, was this the second happiest day of his life… the first, well, that’s another story.

Just a snippet from my Full Moon rewrite ^^! Feel free to comment, review, or ask questions! And yes, if you got the hint, Blitz knows some magic...

This rewrite is truly beautiful, this should've happened on the Full Moon episode, not the victim blaming and consequent gaslighting fest we got, both in Full Moon and Apology Tour.

Reading this was truly cathartic, thank you.

[heliads]

Hi!

I love your writing so much!

I would love to request an angsty Strollonso fic where Lance gets into a crash and the team doesn’t tell Nando how bad it was and he finds out later from another driver and freaks out and goes to the hospital to see him. Maybe Lance has to calm him down and keep him from going after his dad or something.

This is my first time requesting so I hope it’s okay lol.

If you don’t get to it, no worries! Thanks!

'didn't get the call' - fernando x lance

masterlist

It’s race week. Things always get real during race week.

One would think that a couple decades of seasons of Formula One racing would prepare Fernando Alonso for the frenzy of a long weekend spent overseas, but he’s had ample time to determine the contrary. Sure, he’s gotten better at shaking off the nerves a little, sloughing off like an old scar the urge to run or lash out, but part of it still remains inside his lungs, rattling the tissue more than he feels is necessary. It’s race week. What’s the worst that could happen?

That same sentiment, however, doesn’t seem to apply to the rest of the paddock. Everywhere Fernando goes, he seems the same sort of tension bubbling to fury underneath everyone’s skin. The few gazes that dare to lift to his are strained, the undereye bags larger than usual. Even his race engineer seems skittish, and after a year of dealing with Fernando watching live race broadcasts while making overtakes and other various misdemeanors, Fernando has assumed that nothing could shake the guy.

Fernando tries to think about what could have possibly gone wrong to demand this level of response, but nothing comes to mind. In the end, it was, truly, just another weekend. Fernando had done reasonably well– a fourth place result, while frustratingly shy of a podium, is still a good result. Aston Martin as a whole has been down as of late, and even though they would rather appreciate the points boost of a podium, fourth position is still better than the points of sixth, or eighth, or not even getting points at all.

All in all, it had been a relatively decent race from Fernando’s point of view. He’d had some good overtakes, and provided some good defense against the challenging Red Bulls until they passed him like they do against every other car on track. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t mediocre, either. That’s Aston for you. That’s life.

In fact, Fernando had even felt so satisfied after the race that he’d gone ahead and asked how Lance had fared while he was turning his car towards parc ferme. It’s been a little indulgence that Fernando has allowed himself out of late, caring about his teammate. Call him overly cavalier, but this is, actually, quite a sign of change in Fernando, especially after the past two years at Alpine. Fernando hasn’t always been in the business of viewing his teammates as more than obstacles.

Perhaps that’s just a sign that he’s getting old, Fernando thinks fondly as he meanders towards his driver’s room. The apparently advanced age of entering his forties is making him sentimental. How charming. Then again, it’s something altogether different when one’s teammate is, well, Lance.

Lance.

Fernando had been careful when he first arrived at Aston Martin. Lance was the boss’ son, for one thing, and Esteban’s close friend, for another. Of course he would have to be careful. It’s not as if Aston Martin would be dramatic enough to fire Fernando if he let slip a critical comment of his teammate in yet another drawn-out press conference, but they’d probably retaliate with something below the belt, like a pay cut.

So he’d watched his tongue, and watched his temper. The only thing Fernando hadn’t kept in check was his heart. Maybe that was because he assumed he wouldn’t have to, that years of experience would have made him as cold as his teammate’s home country, but as it turns out, even a two time world champion can be wrong on occasion, and Fernando was wrong about Lance.

Fernando isn’t quite sure that he could put into words what Lance means to him. He’s not sure that he wants to try. Some things are best kept secret, hidden under the protective cover of supposedly forced team bonding and aggressively proud post-race interviews. Overcommitting to an overtake before you know you’ve got it can ruin a race. Spelling out in precise, heart-stopping red syllables what Lance Stroll means to Fernando could ruin his whole enterprise.

Even still, small things slip through the self-imposed barrier. Fernando squeezes Lance’s shoulders when they run into each other in the media pen and pretends he doesn’t notice how Lance’s entire body wracks the second Fernando touches him. He certainly doesn’t store that information away for later use. And, his latest vice, Fernando keeps asking his race engineer how Lance has done in the race, making it public that Fernando is interested. People know now. How daring.

This time, though, his race engineer had been surprisingly tight-lipped, mentioning only that he would have to get back to Fernando on that front. Usually, the background chatter from the pit wall is quiet so as to not distract the driver, but this time an uproar of static had cut through the engineer’s words, making it more difficult to make him out. There had been rumors of a red flag coming out on the last lap, but as it happened most cars would be able to clear without trouble, so nothing had been mentioned. His race engineer had also been silent on that front.

Who is Fernando to worry, though? If something bad had happened, he would have been informed. Fernando makes it a habit to stay aware. It wasn’t him, it couldn’t be his teammate, and thus Fernando’s capacity for caring is significantly limited. He’ll put out a somber Instagram story later if his PR agent reminds him. All will be well.

The further he travels through the Aston Martin motorhome, though, the more uneasy Fernando feels. Everyone is rushing around, all speaking to each other in terse whispers that he can’t quite pick up. Fernando feels as if he’s the eye of a hurricane, surrounded by restless whirlwinds of deep green water.

This doesn’t make sense. Eventually, Fernando’s impatience gets the better of him and he stops one of the trainers, who’s been parked in a corner of the room and frantically texting so he doesn’t get in the way. The man practically jumps out of his skin when Fernando nudges his arm, he’s so keyed up. Strange. Also unsettling.

“What’s going on?” Fernando asks. The confusion makes his voice terse, it sounds like he’s a soldier out on a battlefield. He doesn’t even feel that worried, not yet, but from the way everyone else is acting, he feels as if he should be.

The trainer avoids his eyes. “Nothing,” he says evasively.

“Oh, and that’s why you look as if someone just shot you in the leg?” Fernando deadpans.

The trainer grimaces. “Alright, but I’m not supposed to tell you. Lance, uh, got in a crash. Last lap of the race. The engineers wanted you to focus on reviewing your data so you aren’t supposed to know about it.”

This is the part where Fernando should assure the trainer that they’re both on the same page and of course he won’t say a word about it, but a complete blankness has settled over his brain, erasing the ability to think anything at all other than the same question over and over again:  Lance crashed?

“What happened?” Fernando asks. He hardly recognizes the sound of his own voice. “Was it bad?”

“Not bad,” the trainer says, but he’s still not looking directly at Fernando. “We’re still checking him out, obviously, but he should be good to go for the next race.”

He coughs pointedly, and this is when Fernando knows it’s time to move on. He’s been assured that his teammate will be fit to race next weekend, and as a hardened driver, that’s all he should care about. Still, as he walks back down the hall again, Fernando can’t convince himself to let it go. Would everyone really be this worried if it was just a small collision? They would tell him, surely, if it was worse. They would have to tell him.

Maybe they just don’t know yet, Fernando reasons with himself. Maybe they legitimately have no clue until Lance returns from medical testing. Even the most insignificant fender-benders can have lingering damage if your hands aren’t in the right place or something else goes wrong. Everyone could just be stressing until they hear back for sure that everything is fine.

Fernando returns to his driver’s room and shuts the door. He sits down absentmindedly in a chair. After about five minutes, it registers that he forgot to turn the light on. He’s not in total darkness, a window is half open, but Fernando can’t quite convince himself to try and flip the switch. Lance was in a crash. Lance is hurt, maybe.

It unravels Fernando down to the last stitch. Lance had been in the bike accident in January, Fernando is not unused to being in a situation in which Lance is hurt, but for some reason this feels far, far worse. He doesn’t like knowing that Lance isn’t alright. It unnerves him, like a car running with a mismatched tire. All of Fernando’s systems are off-kilter.

His phone pings by his side, and now Fernando’s the one who feels like he’s leaping several centimeters out of his chair. Running an absentminded hand through his hair to calm himself down, Fernando reaches for his phone to check the notification, but the message he reads does little to steady his spirit.

Mick Schumacher.

Why aren’t you at the hospital?

Fernando responds immediately.

What are you talking about?

Mick’s answer is swift and to the point.

Lance.

Instantly, Fernando’s blood chills.

They told me he was fine. Why is he in the hospital?

This time, Mick takes a while. Unable to take the pressure, Fernando gets up and starts pacing back and forth in the confines of his driver’s room. At last, Mick responds.

Bad crash. He’s been unconscious but just woke up.

Fernando is out the door before he even finishes reading the text. He’s still in his disgusting race suit, but the sweat will just have to keep cooling, because there’s no way Fernando is sparing so much as a second for anything but getting to Lance. He manages to ask Mick what hospital Lance is occupying while fishing around for his keys, and then he’s off, breaking what he’s sure are several speed limits and a myriad of traffic violations while he’s at it.

Fernando bursts through the door, feeling eerily like a guy out of a rom-com his older sister, Lorena, used to watch. He’s buff enough for the role, certainly, but nothing about this is movie material. Real life is ugly. People get into crashes and don’t miraculously walk out. Beautiful boys with dark eyes lie unresponsive in hospital beds and no one talks about it until it’s too late.

Mick is already in the waiting room and stands up when Fernando arrives. He takes in Fernando’s bedraggled appearance with a raised eyebrow. “Well, I did ask you to get here fast, but I appreciate your dedication to it.”

“Of course,” Fernando says distractedly. “How is Lance?”

Mick nods, again, the raised eyebrow. “He’s been asking for you. There are a couple of Aston Martin guys here, but they just kept ducking the question whenever he brought up where you were.”

Fernando makes a low, ugly sound in the back of his throat. “They did the same thing to me.”

Some of the tension leaves Mick’s face. “They really didn’t tell you, did they?”

“Not at all,” Fernando makes out. “Where is he?”

Mick tells him the number and points him in the right direction. “Be careful,” is all he says before Fernando is too far gone to hear him.

Fernando hurries down the hall. Some of the nurses make an attempt to stop him, but he just ducks around their questioning gazes until he’s knocking on Lance’s door. He can see a vague silhouette through the half-closed blinds, but it’s not until a faint, groggy voice tells him to come inside that Fernando can decide for sure that yes, this is Lance, and yes, Fernando should have been informed of this immediately.

Fernando shuts the door quietly behind him. He walks quietly to the chair, and he sits quietly, breathing quietly, looking quietly, until Lance rolls his eyes and says, “I’m not going to die if you act normally, you know.”

Fernando relaxes a little bit. “Who said anything about dying?”

“Not me,” Lance says, that smug smile starting to surface even despite the IV in his arm, the bandages across his chest, the–

“Stop looking at those,” Lance says unexpectedly, cutting off Fernando’s train of thought. “I’m fine. Honestly.”

Fernando looks at him askance. “You sound like half your car is lodged inside your ribcage. Is that fine?”

Lance pulls a face. “Okay, I’m a little less than fine. It’s alright, though.”

“Tell me what happened,” Fernando says. He didn’t think it came out as an order, but instantly Lance straightens up even despite the constraints of the hospital bed and starts speaking, a faint blush on his cheeks. Interesting. Another thing to remember for later.

“There was a crash,” Lance begins somewhat uncertainly.

“So I’ve heard,” Fernando says, somewhat bemused. Humor is easier. It distracts him from the fact that Lance is lying here, practically lifeless, looking no more likely to move a muscle than get up and start running laps. It kills him, the inability to do anything other than sit here and crack jokes. This is not who he was supposed to be. Nothing about this is right.

Lance looks at him, playfully annoyed, and then continues again. “There was a crash. I don’t remember most of it. I was coming out of a series of turns, I think. Someone hit me. I don’t know who, steered right into me. Not their choice, I’m sure, but it took both of us straight into the barriers.”

His face contorts with confusion as he attempts to remember what happened. The lapses in memory startle Fernando more than he would like. “You must have gotten a serious hit to your head,” he says, unable to keep a grim tinge out of his words.

“That’s what the doctors said,” Lance confirms, grimacing. “I don’t really remember a lot between the crash and waking up here. They said I was out for more than half an hour.”

Fernando presses a hand to his face, dragging it roughly across the skin to try and wake himself up out of this terrible nightmare that has somehow become his reality. “All of this, and no one saw fit to tell me?”

Lance’s brow furrows. “Dad was going to make sure you knew. He told me that himself.”

All of Fernando’s grief leaves him a swift rush, replaced with blind fury. “Lawrence said that?”

At last, he has a culprit for why so much time passed before Fernando heard about this accident, and it was Lance’s own father. Disgraceful. As if Fernando hasn’t spent all of his time at Aston Martin trying to get in Lawrence’s good graces to promote the wellbeing of the team. As if he hasn’t held back on what he really wants with Lance in the name of good faith in the face of the team owner, and now this? Well. Maybe Fernando should have pulled his favorite card and simply done what he wanted in the first place.

He stands up before he realizes it. “Where are you going?” Lance asks, confused.

“I’m going to have some words with your father,” Fernando announces.

Lance’s face falls, and he starts trying to pull himself more into a seated position on his elbows. “Wait, no. He didn’t– he wasn’t trying to hurt you, Fernando, he just didn’t want you to worry.”

“The only thing I want to do right now,” Fernando informs him, “is worry.”

“Charming,” Lance says, then, in a voice verging on panic as Fernando nears the door, “Seriously, don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“What wouldn’t be?” Fernando asks, deceptively calm despite the inferno boiling between the bars of his ribcage.

He’s already at the door. Fernando can see Lawrence talking on the phone in the waiting room, where Mick is eyeing him icily– he’s on the phone while his son is in the hospital, what an asshole– and he’s about to go out there and tell Lawrence exactly what he thinks of this, bystanders be damned, but then Lance’s voice comes again, soft and quiet, and Fernando stops, fingers resting on the cool metal of the doorknob.

“Stay with me. Please.”

That’s all it takes to slow Fernando’s insatiable temper, as it turns out. Who knows how many managers and PR officers would have killed to get that information, and they’re only four words. Four words spoken by Lance Stroll, which makes the difference.

Fernando returns to his seat by Lance’s side. Lance looks distinctly pleased with himself. “I didn’t know you were so open to receiving instructions. I think I’m going to remember that.”

“You’ll forget this by tomorrow. Strong painkillers do that sometimes,” Fernando insists.

Lance’s lips curl into a catlike smile. “Sure thing, Fernando.”

Maybe he’s right after all. Fernando thinks that he might not ever forget the peace of a room when it’s just the two of them, how the heart monitor sharply upticks when Fernando reaches over to take Lance’s hand and both of them pretend they don’t notice it. Lance will be alright eventually. Wounds will heal, scars will fade, and a ferocious driver named Fernando Alonso will accept that the biggest chink in his forged-by-fire armor is a young man named Lance Stroll, and there is nothing wrong about that at all.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[its-avalon-08]

charles leclerc x reader part4

themes

enemies to lovers redbull v/s ferrari female driver overprotective max and checo spice maybe??

Chapter 4: Drunken whispers and flashing lights

The desert night shimmered under the Yas Marina floodlights, a glittering oasis in the arid landscape. Abu Dhabi, the final act of the F1 drama, and Y/N and Charles were locked in a fierce tango for second place.

Their cars were two blurs of silver and red, dancing cheek-to-cheek on the razor's edge of the track. They carved identical lines, their engines in a guttural duet, refusing to yield an inch. The tension crackled through the air, thicker than the desert sand.

Then, in a heartbeat, the dance became a discordant crash. Charles, desperate for the podium, made a sudden lunge for the inside line. Y/N, caught off guard, spun out, her car pirouetting into the gravel trap like a wounded ballerina.

She nursed the damaged Red Bull back onto the track, the fire of humiliation burning in her eyes. The race, once neck-and-neck, became a one-woman show. Y/N unleashed a fury unseen before, tearing through the field like a vengeful storm. She carved through lap times, overtaking rivals with ruthless precision. By the time she crossed the finish line, Charles was a distant third, the sting of defeat etched on his face.

The after-party was a cacophony of champagne corks and forced smiles. Y/N, despite her podium finish, remained aloof, her eyes never landing on Charles. He, in turn, mirrored her coldness, his gaze perpetually averted. The tension between them was a storm cloud hanging over the celebration, casting a shadow on everyone's enjoyment.

Later, as the crowd thinned and the music morphed into a quiet hum, Y/N found herself stumbling down the hotel hallway, the champagne leaving a dull ache in her head. Charles, emerging from his own solitude, caught sight of her and felt a pang of guilt pierce his carefully constructed mask.

He reached out, but Y/N, before he could touch her, stumbled, her voice slurred with inebriation. "Why do you hate me so much, Leclerc?" she mumbled, her words thick with unshed tears. "What have u iever done to you? I just wanted to prove... prove that I deserve...my spot...here."

Charles froze. In that moment, the carefully constructed walls around his heart crumbled. He looked at Y/N, her vulnerable words hanging in the air, and he knew he had to confess.

"It's not hate, Y/N," he rasped, his voice choked with emotion. "It's...terror. You see, you remind me of someone...someone I..."

He stopped, the memory a raw wound in his soul. But he saw the flicker of understanding in Y/N's eyes, the shared pain of loss that transcended rivalry. He continued, his voice a low thrum.

"You remind me of what I could have lost...of what I almost did lose. And seeing you race, so fearless, so brilliant...it terrifies me. Because if anything happened to you...I wouldn't be able to live"

He couldn't finish the sentence. The thought was too unbearable. But Y/N, her eyes shimmering with tears, reached out and touched his cheek, a silent reassurance.

"Charlie, you don't like me but you're afraid to lose me" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But I... spend too much time thinking about...."

Before she could finish, her head dipped forward, sleep claiming her. Charles caught her, holding her close, the weight of her vulnerability a burden he wouldn't shirk.

He looked down at her sleeping face, a silent promise forming on his lips. "Just rest, Y/N," he murmured, his voice thick with a mixture of regret and newfound resolve. "Not like you'll remember this when you're sober."

But Charles knew, deep down, that this night, this unexpected vulnerability, would be a turning point. The game had changed, the rivalry transformed. And as he held Y/N close, beneath the glittering Dubai sky, he couldn't help but wonder if their next dance would be a tango of a different kind.

[levans44]

Apartment #3 - Chapter 5

pairing: steve rogers x undercover!reader

warnings: 18+ SMUT*, Neighbors to Friends to Lovers, lots of angst, heavy mutual pining, hurt/comfort, eventual smut/romance/fluff

summary: as an undercover agent at SHIELD, her newest assignment involves moving in across the hall from her target. she's strictly ordered to keep her distance—no personal contact besides the absolutely necessary. the only issue? her new target neighbor turns out to be Captain America.

author's note: an idea that's been living in my head ever since steve asked sharon for that cup of coffee in their apartment hallway. as a SHIELD agent, the reader's real name has been [REDACTED] to preserve anonymity.

masterlist

taglist: @tsofo26 @yvonneeeee @cass0419 @nekoannie-chan @felicitylemon @nada3000 @rorilisa @observantplum-blog @strepsils123

Three days after the soup incident, the dreaded red-white-and-blue elephant in the room is finally acknowledged.

And it all starts with a UPS delivery man.

She’d just finished putting her plates away when she hears faint knocking on her door. She steps out into the hallway, giving the UPS driver a polite smile before signing off on her package—an amazon order with a few small trinkets to spruce up her new apartment. She’s just about to head back inside when the courier stops her, pointing back at Steve’s door. 

“Hey, do you know if a…” He frowns, squinting down at the label on his box.

“…Steve Rogers lives here? Apartment 4?”

“Oh, yeah, jus—“

“—wait, hold on.” 

The driver whips around to stare at her neighbor’s door, eyes doubled in size.

“That’s not like… the Steve Rogers, is it? Like, like Captain America, Steve Rogers?”

Shit.

Quick! 

“N-no, it’s someone with the same name. This guy’s like… super old. Kinda heavy set?” 

Just for good measure, she gestures loudly around her lower stomach, trying not to facepalm herself as a look of disappointment washes over the driver’s face.

“Oh. Right.” He sighs, stepping back as he sets the package down with a ‘thump’ in front of apartment #4. 

“…well, could ya let him know I left his package here?”

“Sure.”

As soon as the UPS driver is out of ear shot, his feet trudging down the stairs at the end of the hall, she lets out a quiet sigh of relief. 

As endearing as it was that Steve used his real name for deliveries (as if Steve Rogers wasn’t a household name at this point), she’s knows it’s a risky move. The exact kind of thing Fury wanted her to keep an eye on.

She stands there in her doorway, wondering whether details like these were worthy enough of alerting her boss. They'd only prove him right, after all, that Steve should have moved into the Compound.

Just then, a quiet voice from down the hall interrupts her thoughts:

"Heavy set, huh?”

And she’s not sure how Steve managed to go unrecognized by the delivery guy on his way up, even with the baseball cap and dark aviators he’s got on.

She lets out a quiet laugh, embarrassment tinting her cheeks pink.

“So you heard that.”  

He slides the glasses off his face as he approaches her, slowing down once he’s a few feet away. 

He stops, letting out a quiet sigh before pursing his lips. He’s still smiling, but the lines around his lips have grown tighter.

“Thank you, for…” He diverts his gaze, glancing up at the ceiling to find the right word before he huffs out a laugh in defeat. “….that.”

“Sure.” She nods, bouncing on her heels, suddenly feeling a gust of awkwardness roll in between them. 

The massive elephant in the room, a fact that had somehow remained unspoken until this moment. 

“So…” Steve starts, thumbs tucked into the pockets of his jeans.

“So.” Her gaze flits across the tense outlines of his shoulders, the nervous light in his eyes.

Was Steve really this worried about her finding out?

“Did you…?”

He trails off, and from the way his eyes are desperately shifting across her features, she can tell he’s trying to get a read on her too. 

She nods, deciding she’d spare Steve the burden of having to spell out the obvious. 

“…I-I had a hunch, yeah. You’re Captain America, right?”

The name Steve Rogers was by no means a secret alias for Captain America—a Smithsonian exhibit dedicated to his life story obliterated any chances of that. But still, she doesn’t ever recall Steve telling her his last name, and she’s not sure if this discovery is all that welcome for him.

“Yeah.”

He nods, eyes fluttering down, though it isn’t clear whether its embarrassment or guilt that seems to weigh down his shoulders. Sucking in a breath, he steps forward,   hands raised in front of him in a cautious apology.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep that from you—”

She frowns, shaking her head,  ”—no, it’s okay, Steve. You didn’t owe me that information.”

She’s got enough guilt on her mind as it is, she didn’t want him feeling that way too.

Her words seem to put him at ease, and a few quiet moments pass by before his eyes light up with renewed interest. 

“How… how’re you feeling?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah much better.”

She breathes out, grateful for the shift in tone. 

“…and thank you, for the soup! I’ll get your thermos back by tomorrow.”

“Ah, take your time, no rush. Just glad you liked it.”

“Yeah, it was… amazing. Did you make it?”

He smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he nods. 

She crinkles her nose, smiling incredulously. 

“Wow, I didn’t know you could cook. Impressive, neighbor.”

There it was again, that nickname. Rolls of her tongue as easily as all the lies she’s been telling.

“Thanks, my uh.. “ He takes a small pause, gaze faltering in hesitation. 

“…my ma would be happy to hear that. It was her recipe.”

She pauses at those words, a quiet breath escaping her lips. Warmth spreads deep in her chest, blooming all the way down to her stomach —homemade soup for a neighbor he barely knew, and his late mother’s recipe, at that.

“T-that’s…” She hesitates, finding it difficult to formulate the right response. She manages to settle on a quiet “thank you, Steve,” wondering if he knows just how much she had left unsaid. 

Exactly four days later, the burner phone lights up with Fury’s code name. 

She doesn’t mention the UPS driver. 

[saline-coelacanth]

I'm gonna try to articulate myself when it comes to explaining why I love Zeke so much because I just wanna scream about him but that's gonna take a long time. This post is probably gonna be pretty long. Also spoilers for Xenoblade 2. I'm gonna kinda explain this in a way that you can understand without knowing about the game, but there will probably still be some things I don't fully explain because doing so would take a lot of time.

Some of my favorite types of characters are the ones that are considered comic relief, but they still have more depth to them than that. They're written as actual characters instead of the one who needs to be funny all the time. And Zeke may just be the best version of that type of character I have ever seen.

When Zeke is first introduced in Chapter 3, he is not taken seriously, like at all. He shows up to fight the party and is completely baffled by the fact that the party does not know who he is. How have they never heard of the mighty Zeke von Genbu? The Bringer of Chaos! Mostly known as Zeke, and also addressed as the Zekenator! (Yes, he does call himself the Bringer of Chaos as well as the Zekenator, he is very silly)

So yeah, you fight this guy (as well as his blade/partner Pandoria, but she doesn't do much in this first encounter, in fact she doesn't even speak) and then after you beat him, he tries to show off with his super cool badass sick as fuck special move; Ultimate Lightning Fury Slash! Which by the way, did I mention he has a big ass lightning sword? Because he has a big ass lightning sword which is awesome, I love him.

But yeah, he uses his cool move, but instead of looking cool, he accidentally causes the cliff that he's currently standing on to collapse, making himself and Pandoria fall off the cliff screaming. The party then just moves on from this.

And yeah, that is the first impression you get of Zeke. He is introduced as this silly, sort of antagonistic guy who you shouldn't take too seriously. And the second time you encounter him goes about the same, except this time Pandoria actually speaks! And she just kinda sasses Zeke for the most part. (I love Pandoria so much btw, this post is mainly focused on Zeke but Pandoria is also great)

The other main difference is that Zeke does not cause a cliff to collapse underneath him this time! No, instead he uses the exact same move as last time, except this one causes a giant boulder to fall and start rolling towards him and Pandoria. They try to run, but end up just getting blasted away by the boulder Team Rocket style.

Also yeah, Zeke and Pandoria are SO Team Rocket coded. They even have a Meowth in the form of Turturs, their beloved mascot who is a tiny turtle. I didn't mention him before, but he is shown in the first encounter with Zeke.

So now we get to the third time you encounter Zeke, which you know, starts about the same with the party just kinda going "Not this guy again..." However, you also have a newer party member who wasn't with you the first two times, that being Morag. And Morag, she actually does recognize who Zeke is and decides to sit this fight out. So the rest of the party get ready for another simple fight against Zeke, only for Zeke to singlehandedly knock them all onto the ground in one speedy move, which leaves them all genuinely shocked at the power he has. Morag then reveals that yeah, Zeke actually is kind of a big deal. He's the most powerful driver from his kingdom, and ALSO the prince of that kingdom! Yeah, this goofy ass guy is royalty.

And yeah, you fight Zeke again. After defeating him, Zeke still kinda has the antagonistic persona up, asking to see the Aegis' true power, to which Rex says that that power is only used for bad guys. Zeke laughs it off, and from here he drops the act and starts acting genuinely friendly towards the party, although his personality remains the same. He is still a silly guy who is very much a show off.

Pandoria also explains to us that Zeke has TERRIBLE luck, which explains the whole falling off a cliff and getting chased by a boulder. Zeke tries to argue this, but then accidentally falls into the cloud sea below, basically proving Pandoria's point. She's also very nonchalant about Zeke falling. The rest of the party is concerned about him, she she's just like "Nah, he'll be fine."

Oh yeah, also forgot to mention that the whole reason for Zeke following the party was because he was sent to retrieve them by Praetor Amalthus. (He's an important character but I don't have time to get into everything with him) And now is the part of the story where the party actually goes to Indol to see Amalthus. This happens in chapter 5 and Zeke first appeared in chapter 3. So yeah, it took Zeke quite a while to actually get the job done.

There's a bit of story stuff that happens, and then Zeke officially joins the party! Which is also a great time to mention that from what my sister has told me, Zeke is the best party member of the game, and the only big downside to him is that he's a show off and his animations take a long time because of it. I love him so much.

Anyway, a bit more plot stuff happens, and we actually get to see Zeke being serious. Like, genuinely serious. No jokes, nothing like that, he is treated as an important character just like the rest of them, which as I've established, I LOVE when silly characters are able to be serious when the scene calls for it.

Not to get into a mini rant, but often it feels like comic relief characters are either still cracking jokes even when the situation is serious and joking would take away from it, or they are simply given nothing to do. The writers don't want them to interrupt the serious moment, so they just have them do nothing. And let me tell you, Zeke does not have either of those problems. He is silly when he needs to be and serious when he needs to be. Zeke is also one of, if not the most emotionally intelligent person in the party. He says a lot of deep stuff and has a really interesting view on the world and people as a whole. But I'm getting ahead of myself, let's get back to things.

So the first thing you do when Zeke joins the party is go to Temperantia and have a big boss fight there. But after that, we kinda get to dig into Zeke's backstory and plot more. We have to go to Tantal, which is the kingdom Zeke is from. We find out that Tantal is a strictly isolated society, which is basically the exact opposite of Zeke. Pandoria lets us know that Zeke was kicked out of his kingdom at the age of 15 because he kept leaving all the time, and he's been out on his own with Pandoria since then. (Zeke is 25 during the game for reference)

We also find out that the reason he was staying in Indol was because Amalthus found him on the brink of death and saved his life, so Zeke felt indebted to him for that. Yeah, this guy has had it a bit rough. And this isn't even getting into some of the side things that aren't part of the main story. One of the side things reveals that when he was younger, Zeke wanted to be a hero that could save everyone, but then was hit by reality and realized he can't actually save everyone. He saw a lot of the worst sides of humanity, but joining up with Rex sort of brought back his hope for humanity. AAAA HE'S SUCH A GREAT CHARACTER!!!!

Ok, getting back to more main plot stuff. When the party gets to Tantal, Zeke explains how he disagrees with the way his father handles things, pointing out how poor everyone is because the kingdom is too cold to properly grow food and crops, and since they stay isolated the only way to get stuff from other kingdoms/countries is illegally. The party then goes to give the king a message from Amalthus (I don't remember the specifics about it) And the king immediately rips it up and captures Pyra because he wants to destroy the Aegis before she can destroy the world. The rest of the party (minus Zeke and Pandoria) get locked up afterwards. Zeke if FUCKING PISSED over this, as well as being upset after learning the royal bloodline has been a lie this whole time, so he goes to break out his friends. They actually break out without his help, but you know, it's the thought that counts.

They go and they save Pyra, Zeke also goes a super cool move, jumping onto the giant cannon thing pointed at Pyra and stabbing it with his sword to try and stop it. That's another thing, Zeke is genuinely badass, and the game gives him plenty of time to be genuinely badass and cool. Again, Zeke is treated with respect and he's given time to be serious and cool, he's not silly and goofy ALL the time.

The stuff in Tantal is kinda where Zeke gets the most focus, although I still have a few moments afterwards I wanna talk about. So more plot stuff happens, Pyra ends up getting kidnapped by the bad guys so now the party has to go to this ancient tomb-like place called Spirit Crucible Elpys (I usually just refer to is as the Spirit Crucible). However as they go deeper into the Spirit Crucible, it's revealed that all the Blades in the party are having their energy drained, which is not good. Zeke orders Pandoria to stay behind because he wants her to be safe, but she adamantly argues that she goes wherever he goes, and after a bit of arguing, Pandoria sticks with the team despite the dangers.

Later on, Rex notices that Zeke seems to be getting tired as well, and Zeke reveals that he has part of Pandoria's core crystal in his chest. Mini explanation, a core crystal is basically a Blade's heart/energy source/life source type thing. Rex asks Zeke about it and Zeke brings up the story he mentioned before about how he almost died.

And we get a flashback, yay! I cried while watching this the first time, yay! But yeah, Zeke was dying and Pandoria was pleading with him to get up, not wanting him to die. Also another thing I should mention, but drivers and blades have a deep connection and when a driver dies, their blade returns to their core crystal and they lose all their memories. So one of the reasons Pandoria doesn't want Zeke to die is because she doesn't want to lose her memories of him.

So Zeke passes out, and Pandoria tries to carry him to safety, although she is very much struggling. Eventually, she can't go on and collapses onto the ground, which is when Amalthus finds the two. He saves the both of them by taking part of Pandoria's core crystal and putting it into Zeke's heart, keeping him alive and also making him what's known as a Blade Eater. And again, I don't have time to get into everything with Amalthus, but Amalthus is a terrible person who does a lot of horrible things, but saving Zeke and Pandoria is the one good thing that he did. But this post isn't about Amalthus, so let's get back to Zeke.

Zeke initially feels bad about the whole thing, blaming himself for Pandoria having to lose part of her core crystal, but Pandoria assures him that she's ok with it and that she's glad part of her is keeping him alive. (These two are so cute I could also scream about them all day)

And yeah, the reveal that Zeke is a Blade Eater explains A LOT. It explains how he's able to survive falling off of cliffs, because blades have strong regeneration abilities. It explains why he can move so quickly and why he's such a powerful driver, because he's basically part blade. It just adds so much to his character and I love it!

One last thing I wanna mention real quick, just because it is one of my favorite lines from Zeke. It's in another flashback, this time from when Zeke was in Indol, having a conversation with Amalthus. Amalthus asks Zeke if he's ever had to kill a person before, and Zeke says that no. he hasn't, because he's never seen the need to. And to get into the actual quote that I love:

"Why does anyone kill others? Because they're in your way, or because you can't bear the sight of 'em. You kill because you're weak. But I'm not weak. So I don't need to kill anyone. And I don't mean physically, yeah? I mean in here." *Zeke points to his heart*

Just FGHJKGHJ Zeke is such an amazing character. The entire time I was playing the game, I kept thinking "Surely this is as good as he gets" and then he just KEPT GETTING BETTER! Zeke makes me go insane by how much I love him AGH!

But yeah, sorry this post was so long, I just had to go in depth with talking about his character. I mean, I don't expect too many people to read this entire thing which is fine, I just wanted to get these thoughts out here as they're been sitting in my brain for so long.

TLDR: Zeke is an amazing character who perfectly balances being a silly guy and a genuine character with depth to him, and he's probably the best version of that type of balanced character I've personally seen

[demon-shark]

Percy got Lost pt 7

12-year-old Percy Jackson tries to leave Camp Half-blood before Mr. D decides whether or not to kill him. Only Percy gets so lost he ends up in a completely different universe where a man in green finds him.

Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence

[previous] [next]

Qingqiu gripped his blade tightly, preparing to strike as the voice of the first demon who Percy had called ‘Mrs Dodds’ rang out, “I need to use the restroom.” The other two chorused a similar need and the three started to move towards them. A fight on the bus would put innocent people at risk, not to mention Qingqiu wouldn’t have the space necessary to properly wield Xiu Ya, limiting him greatly. “I’ve got it. Percy, take my hat.” Qingqiu had to suppress the urge to turn to her as she passed her hat over to Percy. Percy had been just as confused as Qingqiu as he asked a quick, “what?”. Annabeth pressed the hat into Percy’s hand as she quickly explained, “It was a gift from my mother and will turn you invisible. You’re the only one they want. So, once you’re invisible you’ll need to move up the aisle, let them pass you. Then maybe you can get to the front and get away.” Percy grimaced as he said, “But you guys-” Annabeth didn’t let him finish off the thought, “There’s an outside chance that they might not notice us, you’re one of the big three. Your smell might be overpowering,”. As logical as the plan was, it was an uncertain one. But as the demons moved closer it seemed like the only one. “I can’t just leave you.” Grover snapped his head over to Percy, “Don’t worry about us, go!”.

Percy quickly put on the hat and vanished, not even a qi signature remaining. Though the women stalled about 10 rows in front of the three, Qingqiu could only guess that Percy had planted himself there, they continued moving back. They eventually blocked them in, transforming to show shriveled leathery hags with bat wings and demonic claws. What was once handbags now revealed to be fiery whips. The first one leaned forward, her gnarled jaws only inches from Annabeth’s face as she hissed, “Where is it? Where?” The women seemed to be ignoring Qingqiu entirely, having assumed he was a mortal. Using this as an opening, Qingqiu stabbed the one he assumed to be the leader. The civilians screaming and cowering in their seats as the other two launched into action, Annabeth brandishing a bronze knife and Grover having grabbed a tin cylinder from the snack bag. 

The bus then took a sudden turn, Percy having grabbed the wheel while the bus driver was distracted. Everyone was thrown to the right as the bus collided with the side of the tunnel, sparks serving as their main light source. Smaller buses cleared the way as the bus skidded out of the tunnel. The vehicle continued barreling down the roads, only the bus driver seemed to have gained back some control as they moved into a more rural area and towards a river. Before anyone could recover the bus suddenly came to a harsh stop, threatening to flip over in the process as the iron carriage wailed and the doors flew open. The civilians all stampede out leaving only Qingqiu, the demigods, Grover, and the demons.

Qingqiu refused to let them regain their ground however, quickly moving forward and cutting down the first demon. However, instead of leaving the usual corpse the demon burst into golden powder. The second demon gave out a deafening screech before lashing out with her fiery whip. In one fluid motion, Qingqiu blocked the attack with Xiu Ya letting the whip wrap around it before yanking it forward. Not wanting to get cut down like her sister, the demon quickly released the whip causing it to get thrown at the feet of Grover. Grover then threw a well-aimed tin cylinder, clocking the demon in the side of the head and getting her attention. The first demon then got up and moved to attack Qingqiu from behind only for Percy to reveal himself, “Hey!”. The furies both turned to him, barring their yellowed teeth as they gave him their full attention. Qingqiu would have scolded the boy for not taking the chance to run; only the first demon slammed him into the side of the bus. 

She slowly stalked towards Percy as her sister jumped on the seats, crawling like a lizard. Annabeth moved forward, dagger in hand as she looked for an opening, as Grover helped Qingqiu get back to his feet. “Perceus Jackson,” the first demon hissed in a thick accent Qingqiu didn’t recognize, “You have offended the gods. You shall die,”. Percy pulled the horn from his bag, the blood of the skinner demon still clinging to it as he said, “I liked you better as a math teacher,”. Mrs Dodds launched forward, giving Annabeth an opening to stab her in the back as Qingqiu caught the second one by the wings and decapitated her. Mrs Dodds slapped Annabeth away, sending her back into Grover, before chasing Percy off the bus. 

Qingqiu picked up Annabeth and Grover before mounting Xiu Ya, flying after the demon. As they closed in they could hear the demon yell, “Hades will have your soul!” In response, Percy slightly turned back and yelled, “Braccas meas vescimini!” What that meant, Qingqiu had no idea. But by the way the demon was practically frothing at the mouth, it wasn't anything good. It was then lightning suddenly struck the bus behind them, the sound echoing in Qingqiu’s ears. Not wanting to be struck next, Qingqiu quickly landed. Dropping Annabeth and Grover before continuing the chase. Sending the sword forward and through the head of Mrs Dodds. 

With the situation finally under their control again they took a moment to breathe. Grover collapsed, sweat pouring down his face as he shivered and brayed, “Three Kindly Ones, all three at once.” Annabeth grabbed Grover, pulling him back up as she said, “Come on! The further away we get, the better.” Percy wiped his own brow as he grimly said, “All our money was back there. Our food and clothes. Everything.” Annabeth turned to him, pointing at the bag that Percy hadn’t taken off at all during the trip, “Not everything. Besides if you hadn’t decided to jump into the fight-”. Percy snapped his head up, cutting Annabeth off, “What did you want me to do? Let you get killed?” Annabeth practically snarled as she said, “You didn’t need to protect us, Percy. We would have been fine.” Grover then piped in with a quiet, “Sliced like sandwich bread, but fine.” Annabeth snapped her head towards Grover, “Shut up, goat boy.”

“That’s enough, what’s done is done.” Qingqiu stepped in, having heard enough of their pointless fight. “First things first we need to find shelter and check our resources.” As he said that the clouds above them grumbled, the rain pouring down and making their clothes heavy. The sooner they found that shelter the better.

[imzadi-caskett-huddy]

Hell Hath No Fury (17/?)

I’m glad you all seem to like the liberties I’ve taken with Jim’s personality and building up Johanna’s as well. The show didn’t provide a ton of information, so I’ve tried to take Kate and divvy up some of her personality between the two of them.

Some of you commented that you thought they made up a little too quickly, that Kate should have still been mad at him. I just want to point out that the reason she was upset with him wasn’t a HUGE reason…their argument definitely wasn’t of the epic proportions of their “Knockout” or “Always” fights. Plus their relationship is still relatively new…I felt it could be worked out with Kate having some time to get through the worst of the anger and then actually trying this talking thing that makes relationships successful. She IS trying to be better for him.

This chapter is going to set up the July 4 holiday. The last chapter I’ll place as the last full week of June, so this would take place about a week later, right before the long holiday weekend.

I still don’t own Castle.

xxxxx

The Harley eased into the garage before coming to a stop. The back passenger climbed off the bike first, waiting for the driver to kill the engine. She removed her helmet and shook out her chestnut hair as the driver made sure the kickstand was down and then jumped off the bike, excitedly removing her own helmet to shake out her red locks.

“I did it!” Alexis exclaimed excitedly.

“You did great, Alexis,” Kate smiled. Of course, they had been working together for about 3 weeks, and Kate had made sure she’d driven the bike around the yard and the driveway safely, then had her drive on the street in front of the house, and then rode with her on the street in front of the house, before she’d suggested they take the bike around town. She’d made sure Alexis was ready and capable before she’d suggested letting the girl test out her driving skills further than a few hundred yards.

“Really? I felt like there were a couple of times I kind of messed up a little,” she critiqued her performance. She was such a perfectionist.

Kate gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re a quick study. And to be your first time out on an actual road, you did a great job. You remained calm, you were safe and cautious. Really, it was an excellent first real ride.”

Alexis grinned and impulsively hugged her. “Thanks, Kate.”

The hug surprised her, but she recovered quickly and returned the gesture. “You’re welcome,” she told her softly.

“I thought I heard my little rebel!” Castle called teasingly as he came out to the garage with a smile. The sight that greeted him of his girlfriend and his daughter in a hug only made his smile grow. “Have a good ride?”

The girl pulled away from Kate and left her helmet on the bike before running over to hug her dad. “I did! Kate let me drive! It was just around town, but I did it, and it was so much fun! She’s a great teacher.”

He kissed the top of his daughter’s head as he hugged her tightly. “I’m glad,” he couldn’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm.

“I’ve got to go call Ashley and tell him!” she said excitedly, giving her dad a kiss on the cheek before running inside.

“She kind of idolizes you a little bit right now, you know,” Castle told Kate with a smile as he moved to wrap his arms around her waist and kiss her softly.

Kate’s arms slid around him, giving him a smile as she broke the kiss. “I doubt that. She was just excited,” she shrugged it off. “She’s a great kid.”

He smiled proudly. “She is a great kid. And she definitely idolizes you a little bit.” Seeing her look, he chuckled. “I mean it, Kate. I know my daughter…I know that look.”

“Well, I’m honored,” she smiled, moving for another kiss.

“So…you going to offer to teach me to drive your motorcycle next?” he asked her before her lips could claim his.

Her laughter was caught by his mouth. “No,” she pulled away with a grin.

“What? Why not? You taught Alexis!”

She laughed again. “You’re right, I did teach Alexis. Alexis is a model student. She learned all the

rules of the road, took 2 online safety courses, and learned every part of the bike and what the function of each part is. She is an excellent listener, and she follows instructions.”

Castle gave a small pout. “I could do all of those things!” he insisted.

“Yeah right, Castle,” she snorted, shaking her head. “The last time I gave you instructions to follow, my dad walked in on us having sex on the kitchen counter. Or would you prefer to talk about all the times I've told you to stay in the car?” she arched an eyebrow.

“I can follow instructions when it’s important,” he insisted.

“No,” she shook her head again with a smile. “I don't know if our relationship could survive me trying to teach you to drive a motorcycle. If you want to learn to ride, you can get yourself an instructor who is not sleeping with you…who you won’t try to do something stupid to impress…who you aren’t going to try to cop a feel on…and who you aren’t fantasizing about in black leather,” she laughed.

Castle was going to argue, but when he opened his mouth, he realized she was right, so he couldn’t really deny it. “Well…that’s just mean.”

She smiled, clearly amused by him, as she moved back into his arms. “Maybe I just like giving you a ride…” she trailed off suggestively, her eyes growing a little darker and her voice dropping lower.

His hands tightened on her hips slightly, his own eyes darkening at her suggestion. “You don’t need your bike to give me a ride…” he murmured lowly.

“Castle!” she laughed. “That was a horrible line…” she laughed even harder as he tried to kiss her.

“Was not!” he insisted with a pout.

She pressed a gentle kiss to his lips to soothe him before pulling away with a smile. “Well better to get it all out now instead of your party this weekend. You try lines like that in front of Espo and he’s not going to let you forget it. You’ve seen how he treats Ryan,” she warned him with a grin.

He’d been feeling better, and as such had started to get a bit of cabin fever; plus he missed their friends. He loved his mother and daughter, but not really having much social contact with anyone other than them, Alfred, his doctors, or Kate when she was there was starting to make him a little crazy.

When she’d suggested he have a boy’s night, she’d meant he should go back to the city for a

few days or coordinate a time with Ryan and Espo to play their video games online together, or even host a poker game. What she hadn’t expected was for him to decide to combine a boy’s night with the holiday weekend and suggest inviting their friends, and even her dad, out for a long weekend at his place in the Hamptons for the Fourth of July.

Of course, inviting their friends meant they would be outting their relationship in a way; everyone other than Espo, Ryan and Jenny already knew; they didn't feel right asking their families to lie for them, and neither Castle nor Kate had any desire to give up touching or kissing simply to pretend they weren’t in a relationship in front of their friends, and she really didn’t see the need to lie to two men she trusted with her life. So they had simply decided to just act normal and let the others put the pieces together on their own.

“You’re sure you’re up for this many house guests?” she asked him, lacing her fingers with his as they walked back into the house.

“Kate, I’m fine. Alfred is taking care of all the work, so I haven’t had to lift a finger. On his days off, I’m pretty sure I can handle grilling, and I’ve got you and Alexis to help me out as well. I’m fine,” he assured her with a smile.

“I’m more worried about you trying to show off in front of the boys and doing something stupid,” she murmured.

He chuckled softly. “I promise. No showing off. No stunt dives off the diving board. No overly physical games,” he promised. “And if by some chance I do end up hurt, Lanie’s coming. She’s a doctor,” he pointed out.

She narrowed her eyes. “If you do anything that requires her to have to practice medicine this weekend, you’ll be sleeping on the couch in your office instead of in your bed with me,” she warned him, only halfway joking. While she might not completely kick him to the couch, she most definitely would not be letting him touch her if he acted recklessly.

“Scout’s honor.”

“Try again. You were never a scout,” she arched an eyebrow in his direction.

“It’s just an expression,” he sighed. “I promise. Ok?”

She studied him for a moment. “Ok,” she nodded.

xxxxx

After dinner, Kate and Castle had taken a walk on the beach to have some romantic alone time and watch the sunset. They were laughing as they came up the steps to the back porch, Kate

leaning into his side with her arm loosely across his waist at his back and his arm around her shoulders. They both stopped when they saw Alexis waiting for them.

“Hey Pumpkin, is everything ok?” Castle was the first to ask, noticing his daughter was worried about something.

“Yeah, Dad. Everything is fine. I just need to talk to someone.”

“Yeah, of course. You know you can always talk to me,” he moved toward his daughter. Kate released her hold on him and started to go inside to give them some privacy.

“Actually, I kind of would prefer to talk to Kate,” Alexis gave her dad a tiny smile.

Kate stopped at those words and looked first to Alexis and then to Castle. That was as surprising as the hug she’d gotten from the girl earlier that afternoon. She was under the impression Alexis talked to her father about pretty much everything.

“Oh…yeah, no problem,” Castle tried to shrug it off. He wasn’t used to his daughter wanting to talk to someone other than himself about things that seemed to worry her.

“Sure, Alexis,” Kate said with a smile. She turned to her boyfriend and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Go get the wine and bubble bath ready. I’ll be in to join you in a bit,” she told him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips to get him moving inside so that the younger woman would feel comfortable talking about whatever it was that she didn’t want her dad to know about. Once he was inside, she gestured for Alexis to take a seat in one of the chairs.

The girl instead paced a little bit, causing Kate to smile slightly. She was all too familiar with the need to move in some way when she was feeling overwhelmed. Alexis finally stopped pacing and leaned against the railing silently. Kate joined her, remaining silent. She was also comfortable with the silence and an expert on not rushing someone into talking before they were ready. She would patiently wait until the girl had the words to speak whatever was bothering her.

“How do you know you’re ready?” Alexis finally asked.

Kate had to shake her head, not following. “Ready?”

“You know…ready. Like…with a guy?” she met her eyes.

It took Kate a minute, but when she saw the tips of her ears turning pink along with her cheeks, she put the pieces together. “Oh. Are you and Ashley?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Alexis answered. “But…he’s getting ready to go away to college on the other side of

the country…we’ve been together a year…and I really like him.”

“Well…just because he’s going to California in a couple of months doesn’t mean you should do something with him that you don’t really want to do, especially if he’s pressuring you,” Kate started softly.

“He’s not pressuring me. He hasn’t even brought it up. This is my idea,” Alexis told her honestly. “It’s just…neither one of us has ever….and…I don’t know, I guess I thought being each other’s firsts would be like a special bond that would make our relationship stronger while we’re apart,” she tried to explain.

“Ah…” Kate nodded her understanding. “Your first time is a special experience you only get to have once in your life. You should make sure it’s something you really want to do with a guy you really like. I know you really like Ashley…but if you’re suggesting this because you think your relationship needs it to survive the distance, it’s not going to be enough to make it last,” she started. “But, if it’s something you’ve thought about…which you obviously have…and it’s something that you want because it’s actually something you want and not to please him or try to make your relationship last…then you should do what feels right,” she advised her.

“You don’t think it’s irresponsible? Or that I’m rushing into something? Or that it’s a bad idea?” Alexis asked.

“Alexis, you are one of the most responsible people I know. You’re talking to me about it, which means you’ve given it a lot of thought, and it’s not some decision made in the heat of the moment. And it’s only a bad idea if you do it for the wrong reasons and you’re not careful. I think that you’re as ready as every other 17-year-old girl out there who is in love for the first time,” she smiled.

The younger girl was quiet for a minute, seemingly digesting the advice from the older woman. “I do think I love him,” she smiled. “Thanks, Kate.”

When Alexis turned to go inside, Kate reached out to stop her with a hand on her arm. “Hold on. Just…a little more friendly advice that I wish someone had told me at 17…” she started. “Don’t ever depend on a guy to be prepared with protection. You should have some with you if you’re planning to do that, and I'm not just talking birth control. Don’t ever let a guy talk you out of using it either, and trust me…they will absolutely give you every excuse in the book. Don’t believe them…they’re lying,” she advised her.

“Don’t let a guy make you feel like you can’t say no. You can say no at any point, alright? Even if you’ve said yes, you can change your mind and say no. And if anyone hurts you or isn’t listening to you saying no…or if any guy makes you feel like you can’t say no and you’re uncomfortable or just need to get out of there, call me. I don’t care what time it is or where you are. I’ll come to

get you, and your dad will never know unless you tell him, ok?” she promised her, meeting her eyes so the teenager would know she meant every word. “I’ve got your back, Alexis. Whatever and whenever you need.”

Alexis nodded and for the second time that day, wrapped her arms around the older woman in a hug. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Kate was prepared this time and immediately hugged the girl back tightly. “You’re welcome.” She waited until Alexis had loosened her embrace before releasing her. “How about we head inside now before your dad has a stroke coming up with all kinds of bad scenarios we could be discussing with that imagination of his,” she suggested. Noticing Alexis’s pause at the mention of her father, Kate smiled. “The only thing I’m telling him when he inevitably asks is that we had some girl talk. Your secrets are safe with me, I promise,” she assured her as the two headed inside.

Neither woman was surprised to see Castle waiting in the kitchen, trying his best to seem nonchalant. “Oh, hey…I didn’t realize you two were still out there…” he tried with his most innocent smile.

“Yeah right, Dad,” Alexis rolled her eyes. “I’m going to head up to bed. Goodnight, Dad, Kate,” she told them, giving her dad a kiss on the cheek before heading up to her room.

“So…” Castle tried with a smile.

“So, what?” Kate asked him, grabbing two wine glasses. “You were supposed to get the wine and fix the bubble bath…not wait in the kitchen for us to come back inside.”

His shoulders sagged a little. “You’re not going to tell me what you two talked about?”

“Nope,” she answered honestly, moving to open a bottle of wine to share in their bubble bath.

He pouted at that. “But I’m the cool dad!”

“I don’t care. I’m not breaking the sacred bonds of sisterhood no matter how cool you think you are.” When he crossed his arms and stuck out his bottom lip in a true pout, she had to laugh. “Are you going to stand there and pout all night, or are you going to join me in a bubble bath?” she asked him. When he didn't answer, she shrugged. “Fine, but I’m taking one with or without you,” she started for his bedroom.

He sighed and followed behind her. “That’s not fair. You’re not sisters,” he pointed out.

“The sacred bond of sisterhood has nothing to do with being biological sisters, Castle. It’s about

the shared female experience. I promise you, nothing she said is anything you need to know or worry about. Her safety is not at risk, and she’s not in any kind of trouble. So don’t worry,” she assured him.

“You’re really not going to tell me?” he asked once they were in his bathroom. He started the water in the tub and dropped in some bubble bath.

She placed the bottle of wine and the two glasses near the tub before giving him a smile. “You really want to know?” Seeing him nod, she smiled a little more. “Girl talk.”

“Kate…” he whined.

“No, Castle. That’s all you’re getting from me. Girl talk. That’s what we talked about. If you want anything else, you’re going to have to ask Alexis. And I already promised her that her secrets are safe with me, so you’re not going to be able to trick her and make her think I told you anything to get her to talk,” she informed him. “Now stop pouting, take off your clothes, and get in the tub. Or get out of here so I can enjoy my bubble bath in peace. Those are your options.”

He gave one last huff, crossing his arms. But five minutes later she was settling with her back against his chest in the tub, sipping her glass of wine with her eyes closed, a small smile on her face as his arms wrapped around her.

He placed a soft kiss on her shoulder. "I love seeing you with Alexis like you were today...just not when the two of you team up against me."

She gave a soft chuckle. "I like spending time with her. I meant what I said earlier...she's a great kid. And I care about her a lot."

He smiled, tightening his arms around her. "I love you," he murmured, his nose nuzzling her neck.

"I love you, too," she smiled, turning her head so she could capture his lips for a deep kiss. When she finally broke the kiss, she took another sip of her wine before allowing her body to completely relax back against his, losing herself in his embrace.

xxxxx

So I realize that the detail surrounding Alexis learning to ride the motorcycle is most likely not accurate at all, but it worked for my story, so if you actually do know how to ride a motorcycle and how to teach someone, please just overlook the inaccuracies that I’m sure you’ll spot.

And also, I realize most people assume in fics that Castle’s Hamptons house only has like

4 bedrooms, but I looked and I don’t think it’s ever been said on the show how many rooms it actually has. So for the purposes of this story, it’s going to have 6 bedrooms, because that’s how many I will need it to have, lol. I did look at some places, and it’s not uncommon for Hamptons houses to have that many bedrooms…they are expensive houses, after all.

The next couple of chapters will cover the July 4 holiday…with all the house guests, lol. I hope you guys liked this chapter! I realize there was more Alexis in it that some of you like, but I really want to develop a good relationship between her and Kate, which is something I wanted to see so badly in the show, but we never really got developed. I look forward to your comments!

[axratsffxivwrite]

FFXIV Write Day 4 - Reticent (Familiar Strangers)

Guard duty was hardly Miriam’s preferred choice of mission. Nonetheless, the survivors of Rabanastre needed supplies, and merchants needed a safe route west across the Estersands. It seemed with each passing moon the desert grew more dangerous, lending credence to rumors of the end of the world. 

Final Days or no, she had people to feed. Perched atop the back of a chocobo-driven cart, her light armor and loose, breathable clothes kept the worst of the sun from baking her alive. She carried a simple hunting bow in one hand, a handful of arrows in the other. 

Kemal sat across from her, his eyes fixed on their right flank as hers were their left. While she observed silently, he… talked.

“I was thinking, you know, once father’s business fully relocates back to Rabanastre, maybe we could do more partnerships with the clan, bring the coin back to the Desert Sapphire.” 

She watched. She waited. 

“I mean just ten years ago there was so much coin in Rabanastre, do you remember the bazaar? Merchants from everywhere selling their wares! Could you imagine the day we have merchants from Radz-at-Han again?” 

A fat, round harpy observed them from afar, but declined to approach. It rolled away instead.

“Oh, that’s a thought; maybe we should look outside Dalmasca. All the other merchants pulled out of trade with Thavnair when that tower appeared, and then when the whole burning skies thing started… but now that the skies no longer burn, I bet there’s good coin in it. High risk, sure, maybe they will have a third catastrophe, but if we’re partnered with the clan we’ll have blades enough to guard our wares. Do you think Kutok would take the contract?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Hm, well, maybe I’ll talk to my father and he can talk to Kutok and we can… what’s wrong with that wolf?” 

Miriam narrowed her eyes and turned her head. She spotted the beast in question at the crest of the dunes, some twenty yalms to their north. It was a twisted, hairless beast with skin the color of raw, rotting meat. Spines grew from its back in an array of sizes, from spikes no smaller than her forearm to nearly as long as the beast was tall. Long fangs and tusks crossed in front of a flat muzzle, and glowing red eyes stared out at them. Claws as long as its tusks dug into the sand as it crouched low to the ground, hunting them. 

Two more of the beasts rose from behind the sand, flanking their packmate. Miriam nocked an arrow. 

“I don’t think that’s a wolf.” She stated. 

“I’m starting to think you’re right… It doesn’t look like anything in the huntmaster’s bestiary.” He turned toward the driver. “We need to move, quickly!” 

The merchant called back an affirmative and cracked the reins. The chocobos quickened their pace, the cart bouncing on the uneven terrain. She saw Kemal reach for his bow out of the corner of her eye.

The monsters charged, kicking up sand and dust as they careened down the dune. Miriam let her arrow fly. Despite the bouncing of the cart, her aim was true. The bolt struck the beast in the shoulder, dug deep into its tainted flesh, but it did not so much as flinch. 

The beasts were gaining. Kemal fired off his own arrow. It pierced the lead creature’s flank, dug into what should have been bone, but still it charged. Twenty yalms quickly became ten as they nocked, drew, and fired once again. Their arrows struck in the head and throat respectively. The beast charged on. The merchant screamed, the chocobos bolted, the cart bucked violently, and Miriam went flying. 

She hit the ground and rolled, pain radiating across her body. The lead beast pounced at her. She fumbled for her knife. 

A purple blur shot past her and collided with the beast instead, sending it well off course. A tangle of red and purple fury careened through the sand. The remaining two beasts peeled off, circling the field to assess this new threat. 

A chocobo, Miriam realized. An armored chocobo with feathers as purple as a plum. The beast struggled to find purchase against the bird’s barding as its claws and beak tore into its tainted flesh. Not far behind, a Viera darted past her and launched himself at another of the beasts, grasping it by the spines to grapple it in the sands.

Kemal sprang from the cart and rushed to her aid, but she brushed him off. She scrambled to retrieve her bow and her remaining arrows from the sand. 

“Beasts first,” she snapped to Kemal, “bruises later.” 

“Right.” He hurried away, arrow knocked and drawn as he moved to flank the remaining beast. 

Ignoring the protestations of her sore shoulder, Miriam nocked her own arrow and fired. 

Nearby, the chocobo tore the head off of its adversary. There was no blood, no gore, only an empty black mist as the creature dissipated into nothingness. The bird let out a triumphant cry as it rushed to aid the stranger. The Viera fought claw to claw with the snarling beast, even as it tore into his own flesh and blood splattered across the sand. 

The third beast charged toward Kemal as he repositioned, their arrows adding to the array of spines along its back. Miriam ran around, letting loose arrow after arrow into the monster’s flank. The pain drew its attention back to her as it pivoted, turning its crimson gaze on her.

She let her last arrow fly. It sunk deep into the creature’s skull, directly between the eyes. In an instant, it burst into mist, as if it had never existed in the first place. 

Miriam turned in time to see the Viera claw open the final beast’s chest and tear out the ichor that constituted its organs. It, too, burst, its remnants dissipating on the desert winds. The chocobo once more cried out in victory. 

For a moment they all paused, as the battle rush faded and they caught their breath.

Finally, she called out, “thank you! I do not know your name, but I appreciate your timely arrival.”

The Viera half-turned back to her. She felt herself lock up. He had the brown skin of a Rava, deep green eyes, a handsome face framed with shaggy black hair, and a geometric tattoo under his left eye. His black-furred ears seemed unusually short for one of his kind. His off-white traveling clothes were torn and stained with his blood, but the Bozjan medal pinned to his belt still gleamed. 

He stared back at her, his expression inscrutable. “...are you alright?” 

“You… you remind me of someone, that’s all.” She replied. “A friend, from a long time ago. I’m Miriam, by the way.” 

His eyes narrowed slightly. “...a pleasure, I’m sure.” 

Miriam frowned. Why hadn’t he offered his name? Male Viera were rare to start with, but male Viera with the stunted ears one might see in those of mixed heritage were even rarer. Plus the green eyes, the black hair… 

She held her tongue, doubt gnawing at the back of her mind. 

“Kemal,” she turned toward him, “check on the boss, make sure we’re good to move. We shouldn’t stay here.” 

Kemal hesitated. His eyes trailed from her to the wounded Viera, then back again. 

“...I don’t know that I’m comfortable leaving you alone with him.” 

“I can look after myself.” She looked past him to where the cart had come to a stop some two-dozen yalms or so down the path. “...besides, if you can’t shoot an arrow that far, then we need to send you back to train with Myrmidia.”

Kemal followed her gaze, a frown on his face. “...fine, but if he tries anything…” 

“I’ll skin him before you can.” She replied. 

Kemal offered a grunt of acknowledgement. He reluctantly turned to walk away, though she caught him glancing back in her direction every few steps. 

Overprotective dolt. 

With a sigh, she turned back toward the Viera. He had turned away to fuss over his chocobo. Gentle hands coaxed open the bird’s wings, examining the feathers for any signs of damage. In return, the chocobo wiggled its tail and summoned up a swell of restorative aether that washed over the man’s wounds, staunching the bleeding. 

Miriam smiled, despite herself. “Well, I was about to offer my own magic, but it seems you two are more than capable of looking after each other.” 

The Viera paused. He turned to look at her, then his chocobo, then back at her.

“Exodus and I have been partners for years, it only makes sense.” He paused. “Are you alright? I saw that fall, it looked rough.” 

She shrugged. “I’ll be sore, but it’s little more than bruises.” 

“Good,” he smiled, seeming genuinely relieved. “I am glad to hear it.” 

She couldn’t help but be struck by that smile. That familiar, yet oh-so-handsome smile. He felt familiar, safe, and she couldn’t help but be drawn to it. She pushed the feeling down, locked it away deep in her chest, and reminded herself that there was a good chance this man was simply a stranger on the road. 

He cleared his throat. “I should ask… is your friend always so protective, or does he really think I’d hurt you after I went through all that effort to save you?” 

“Kemal’s… like that.” Miriam shrugged. “He means well, he’s a good man. Just somewhat…” 

“Territorial?” 

“Hmm… that would imply he has territory.” 

The Viera chuckled. “...fair.” 

An awkward quiet lingered for a moment too long as uncertainty built in Miriam’s chest. If he was who she thought he was, then all she wanted to do was wrap him up in the tightest hug and weep tears of joy for his overdue return. Her heart longed for her old friend’s arrival, and yet… doubt lingered in her mind. If this truly was him, why would he try to hide it? Why would he not just say as much? Furthermore, why the Bozjan medal? Last she heard word of her friend, he was adventuring in Eorzea, though it had been too long since his last letter…

Without thinking, she blurted out, “you should come with us.” 

“Hm?” 

“Come with us. You can clearly handle yourself, but if more of those beasts appear, strength in numbers will do us some good.” 

His eyes glanced past her, then returned to meet her gaze again. 

“You are bound for Rabanastre?” 

“We are.” 

His expression remained impassive as he considered the notion. A slight frown toyed at the corner of his mouth. 

“...I will come with you until we have full view of the city. Then I must return to my hunt. The skies no longer burn over Ilsabard, but the blasphemies born during the Final Days need to be culled.” 

Her shoulders slumped slightly, but she maintained an even expression. “I understand, though I must ask you to come with us to the city so our acting Huntmaster can properly repay you.” 

He shook his head. “I don’t need payment. I was hunting them anyway, if anything you helped me by keeping them occupied.” 

“You’re certain?” 

The Viera hesitated. “I… I appreciate your offer, but I would not be welcome in the city. Better to keep my distance.” 

Not welcome? Well, that would certainly explain his reluctance to identify himself, but why wouldn’t he be welcome? It didn’t add up. Her friend was but a child when he left. Maybe this was a stranger…

“If you say so…” She shifted. “...still, you are welcome to accompany us the rest of the way. Come, you should introduce yourself to the boss…” 

She turned to guide him back toward the cart where Kemal and the merchant fussed over the draught birds. Though she couldn’t shake that feeling of familiarity, that sensation of warmth that crawled from her heart and through her body, the chill of doubt held fast. She locked those feelings away, resigned herself not to act on them until she had some hint of his true identity. 

If it was him, surely he had reason to hide. 

It only took a few moments to right the cart and steady the chocobos. Exodus’s confidence gave the draughts their own back, and before long they were on the road once more, plus one. Miriam resumed her post across from Kemal, while the Viera rode alongside on his own vibrant bird. 

She couldn’t help but glance to him every so often. Her heart ached with longing. Even if that wasn’t her friend, he reminded her of him. Loneliness gnawed at her. Kemal was fine and all, but he was little more than a trusted colleague to her. 

He caught her staring at the Viera more than a few times as the cart rolled along. By the fourth time he simply sighed, resigned, and turned his gaze outward to scan for threats. 

Despite the longing, despite the pain, Miriam kept her thoughts to herself. Perhaps it was better not to say anything after all.

…right? 

[formula1fanfiction]

Max Verstappen / George Russell

Title: Princess George

Pairing: Max Verstappen / George Russell

Characters: Max Verstappen, George Russell, Charles Leclerc

Prompt: In Baku, after the race Max and Russell had argued and Max called George as princess. Later that day Max visited George at his hotel room. Top Max- Bottom George.

rating: 18+

A/N: This is a little heavy but George is fully consenting and enjoying himself :)

Max is still furious with the events of the Baku sprint race, it's been hours since everything had happened but the hole of fury is bigger than the one that ended up in his Red bull, fuck George the stupid dickhead. However Max is still feeling proud of himself after the princess George comment.

Something pops into Max's mind, something Charles had told him recently. "George is a bit of a slut, I was mad at him so I went over to find him and he ended up on his knees with my cock down his throat. Max doesn't know what surprised him more doe eyed Charles Leclerc fucking someone's throat or the fact George Russell is a slut.

In the end Max decides to head over there if he can't fuck George, at least he'll have the opportunity to ruin that pretty face of his with his fists. It doesn't take him long to find out where the Mercedes driver is staying, Alex Albon having so innocently told him exactly where George's room is.

"Hi Princess George." Max stands with his hands on his hips smiling at an oh so cute, very confused George. Max uses George's surprise to his advantage and shoves George back into his room.

"What are you doing here?" George grunts as his back slams into the nearest wall. "Don't pretend you're not a slut George, like you don't drop to your knees like a cheap €5 whore." George's eyes darken, an unreadable expression on his face. "Who told you that?" Max can't quite keep the shark like grin off his face. "So it's true then?"

"Maybe..." George groans as his body is slammed into the wall again, he's failing miserably to keep the lust out of his eyes. George loves to be thrown around and fucked hard. "Are you going to pay for your crimes with your body princess George?" Max slips his fingers into George's hair and pulls hard. He lets go and takes a step back, giving George the chance to back out.

"I'm not sorry Max." George drops down onto his knees and crawls towards him and presses his face against Max's jeans. "However, if you want to use me, i'm not going to say no." Max threads his fingers back into George's hair and uses his free hand to unpop the button on his jeans and pushes them to the floor along with his boxer shorts.

"You really are a slut, Princess." George smiles, a glint of mischief in his eyes as Max pushes him towards his cock. Max, wants to fuck the smirk off his face, literally. Max groans as he shoves George's face onto his cock, the glint of mischief remains. Max holds him there, until George's eyes water, his vision going blurry. Max lets him up, just enough to take another breath before shoving him back down again.  

George's hands are shaking from the force of holding onto to Max's thighs, while Max just uses his throat, forcefully pounding into it, enjoying the way George is choking around him, while concentrating on breathing through his nose.

"How many other cocks you had down hear George?" Max holds him down again. "Just Charles, Lewis?" Max lets him take another breath, watching the amount of saliva run down from his lips. George is shoved down once more, longer this time until he feels like he might pass out this time. "The whole fucking grid?" Max lets him up and pushes him off his cock.

George stays on his knees panting, while Max stares at him. Maybe George shout be ashamed of getting off on humiliation, being used but he loves it, his cock is leaking, standing hard and proud against his toned stomach, without being touched.

"George, are you okay?" Max takes him in, his lips swollen and dripping with saliva, tears dried around his eyes and now a panting mess on the floor. George laughs, almost like a stereotypical villain. "What? Is that all you've got Max." oh.

"Well if that's how you want it princess, take your clothes off and get on the bed." George stands up on shaky legs, he rips off his clothes and leaves it in a messy pile on the floor. Max never specified on the position, so George gets on all fours, it's always easier when he's not looking at the person using him.

"I'm not going to go easy on you George." Max takes the bottle of lube and pours a generous amount on his fingers. "I don't want you to." George wiggles his bum back in anticipation, Max rewards him with a hard slap. "If you want to stop, shout Checo. Okay?" George tenses up. "I can take it, Max." Max circles George's entrance. "I'm sure you can princess." Max feels better getting that out, better to break character than literally break him.

Max lets his first finger inside, George is a lot looser than Max expected him to be so he quickly adds a second one. George cries out once Max starts to fucking him with the two fingers. "Such a slut, princess." Max growls letting his fingers sink deeper, rubbing against his soft velvety walls and finds the little bundle of nerves. "Fuck Max." George moans, Max rubs against it hard, the Brit is shaking and struggling to keep control of himself.  "You would come just like this if I let you." Max lets his fingers slip out. George cries out in relief. "I'd rather come from your cock."

"Maybe I won't let you come at all." Max kneels down behind George and bumps the head of his cock against George's lube slick hole and slowly sinks inside about half way, lulling George into a false sense of security then slamming home in one swift move, causing the both of them to cry out in pleasure.

"How are you so tight George, how many people have you let fuck you?" Max pushes his fingers into George's hair and pulls his head up. George whines and pushes his hips back trying to fuck himself on Max's cock. "Tell me and i'll fuck you George." Max squeezes Georges hips to keep him still. "A fair few." George whines in frustration. "Max please."

Max pulls nearly all the way out and slams back into him with one swift move. George cries out, finally getting some pleasure as Max repeats the motion three more times before settling into a rough, harsh pace.

George fists a handful of the bed sheets as Max pounds into him, he's been with quite a few people but no one else has quite taken him so roughly and Lewis' doesn't exactly take easy, however he's loving every second of this.

"Can't believe how much of a slut you are." Georges moans as Max finally finds his prostate and starts to slam into with every one of his thrusts. George's poor neglected cock is red and leaking, he reaches down to stroke himself off to Max's thrust, only to have his hand slapped away. "You don't get to come until I tell you to, princess." George's head is swimming with the constant slamming into his prostate, he's so close yet so far away.  

"Max please!" Max slips one of his hands into George's hair and smacks his ass with other one. "No, stop begging." George whines pathetically with another hard thrust into his prostate. "I need to come, please Max." Max slams into him extra hard. "I said no."  

Max speeds up his thrusts so his balls are slapping against George's ass cheeks, he's whining and moaning with every thrust, just begging to come. Max just ignores him and continues to brutally slam into him. Max keeps slamming into his prostate, just enough until he's about to come then abruptly stops again. George is a withering crying mess when Max finally takes pity on him.

"Do you need to come princess?" George nods, he's way too far gone and frustrated for words. "Anything for Princess George." Max finally wraps a hand around George's neglected cock and strokes him to the same pace as his thrusts, pulling happy pleasured moans from George's lips. Finally fucking finally George gets the feeling in his stomach and he's about to come when Max squeezes his fist around the base of his cock and stops his orgasm.   

"Max please." George is almost in tears from the sheer need to come. Max giggles in response and speeds up his thrusts once again until he's fucking George with all his might, hitting his prostate over and over again but still never letting loose of the grip on his cock.  "Max please."

Max releases the grip on his cock and starts stroking him again. "Come for me princess." and George does, he comes harder than he has in his entire life shooting his load over the bed sheets in front of him. Max himself isn't fair behind, he manages three more shaky thrusts before spilling his load inside of George.

George rolls over onto his back while Max disappears into the bathroom and returns with a damp cloth, he goes to wipe at the mess on George's stomach only to have his hand pushed away. "I'm fine Max, I don't need after care."

"Are you okay though? Did I hurt you? was it too much?" Max is very aware of his rambling, the strong confident roll he was playing has quickly morphed into shyness and fear.  George takes the rag and washes his own stomach.

"No, it's fine. I'm not used to this, people fuck me and then they leave." Max takes a risky move and wraps his arm around George's shoulder, who surprisingly doesn't pull away from him. "Why do you do this George?"

"When i'm mad and frustrated I like giving up control." George smiles. "I really enjoyed myself tonight" Max can't help but smile back. "I really enjoyed myself too, I like being in control."

"You nearly killed me mate." George settles back into the pillows on the bed, still smiling. "I knew just what my princess needed."

"Fuck off Max."   

[whythehellnaut]

Why's Furiosa review

Not to be negative, but I do want to give my thoughts on Furiosa as well. It's another movie that sounds great on paper- a prequel to Mad Max: Fury Road focusing on the deuteragonist, possibly making her just as iconic as Max himself, but where Fury Road was masterful in its execution, Furiosa is lacking nearly everything that made it's predecessor the success it was.

It starts out pretty well, with a prologue involving Furiosa's mother hunting her down when she's kidnapped as a child, resulting in plenty of gratuitous bloodshed, but once that chapter is over, I expected to see Furiosa as an adult, played by the cover girl, Anya Taylor-Joy. To my horror, we spend nearly an hour with Furiosa as a child, watching her do next to nothing, saying maybe 3 lines in total, and being far from the feminist hero I wanted to see, if not the stark opposite. Instead, we see Chris Hemsworth ham it up as the villain, who's charismatic and gives an entertaining performance, but feels no more despicable than any other villain from a similar post-apocalyptic movie. The plot is nearly an hour of Hemsworth playing politics with the villains of Fury Road, with little action or humor. It's borderline unbearable when you preemptively know what you want to see in this movie. This 45 minute chapter in the story could have easily been summed up in a minute long narration, which the movie doesn't shy away from, so it wouldn't be out of place. Think of how fast-paced Fury Road was, how the action was nearly nonstop through the whole film, and put that side by side with this, and it's a jarring difference.

I'll give it that the movie has great camera work and cinematography for the most part. Action scenes are greatly enhanced by the way drone cameras are used, especially in what is arguably the best scene: a raid on a moving big rig in the middle of the movie. But this scene, as cool as it is, illustrates traits that I dislike about the movie as well- in particular, it's hard to follow. It's not easy to identify who the viewer should be rooting for. I would have assumed we want Furiosa and her pale-faced crew to win, but I could have sworn I saw the white faces fighting on both sides of the battle. Furiosa spends the first half of the fight on the underside of the vehicle seemingly doing repairs, but she doesn't speak to anyone until the end, so I couldn't tell if she was helping the driver or hijacking him. How does the titular character get sidelined so hard in her own movie by characters whose names and personalities are a mystery?

This brings me to what I think is my biggest complaint, and that's the lack of characterization. I don't remember a single new character's name besides Hemsworth's. Furiosa hardly has any lines and remains stone-faced throughout. Taylor-Joy is a good actress who does a good impression of Charlize Theron for the few times she speaks, so she's being wasted here. She has a comrade, whose relation to her is beyond me. Is he her friend, boyfriend, acquaintance, blackmail victim? I have no idea, because nothing about their relationship is fleshed out. Furiosa herself is so bland throughout, compared to her previous iteration, and so lacking in her namesake fury, that I'm not even concerned for her. How do you take such a great character and waste her this badly? It frustrates me that she could have become an iconic character with her own series if they nailed this, but after all this time, it seems there are still no men in Hollywood that understand how to write female characters.

It boggles my mind that this movie cost $168 million to make and is considered a failure for making about $32 mil in its opening weekend. It was shot in a desert and has only two big names attached, besides the director, who is long past his prime. The visual effects are of noticeably poor quality, which might have been funny if it was an intentional choice like George Miller's earlier works, but it seems like they're actually trying to make the effects work instead of aiming for campy charm. I can only imagine that they padded the story with so much dull political drama that they dumped their budget into useless background effects for the extra hour of footage unnecessary for the film to work. This is something I'm concerned about in both movies and in gaming: companies are too concerned with making their products "big" instead of simply good. In their attempt to make an epic saga, they lazily came up with a big waste of time that I can't recommend.