#this is my second time watching this show but i didn't get much past season one last time

[hylianengineer]

Gnawing on the bars of my enclosure about iZombie. Again. I just love Ravi so much. That scene in episode one: "What... you were expecting to stay like this forever?"

[bunny-jpeg]

the group chat (oscar's version)

oscar piastri

cw: smut/pwp, filming, doggy style, lingerie, oscar's jacket, (slight) possessive behaviour (other drivers be warned!),

want a different driver? find them all here!

it was the break between silverstone and mogyoród, it was only a week between races but it was an excuse to just do nothing before the second half of the season. the driver's group chat was in a slight buzz with photos of the week off (even though some didn't take the week off).

but on the day before everyone packed it up to travel to hungary, there was a 'ping' of the group chat. most didn't see it till later, but the contents were a rather large video file with no thumbnail.

"lastdayhome24.mp4"

the most curious got in a pair of earbuds in and slinked away from their prior engagements to see what oscar had sent. what the video contained was far more interesting than anything else they were doing.

"this is ridiculous." you said as you sat there on the bed, you were looking up at your boyfriend before you looked to the camera, "you better tell him how stupid this is after."

they weren't, not with their cocks throbbing in their hands as they watched oscar take you apart.

oscar had propped his phone up with the front facing camera pointing to the both of you. you were seated on the bed propped up on your elbows with your knees bent.

most of your figure was clothed with oscar's driving jacket. the pretty orange and black with the 'monster' energy logo at the collar. while the viewer of the video couldn't see what was past the jacket, oscar had a clear view of your perfect body barely clothed in skimpy black lingerie.

he was in nothing but a tight pair of briefs that did very little to conceal his erection. he couldn't help himself, it was a natural reaction to the lovely sight of his lovely girlfriend.

"i don't think they're goin' to be much help, babe." he said as he sat knelt between your legs and letting his hands explore your exposed body. he said to the camera, "i got her in a nice pair i got for in france. let's hope they survive the night, eh boys?" he chuckled as he continued to look at you.

you huffed and looked at him, you wanted to cross you arms but you knew he would just pin you down and explore your curves with his lips. you knew exactly how oscar managed to convince you to film a sex tape for the boys in the group chat.

it took begging, it took convincing, he was even going to buy your approval. he lavished you in praise about how he just wanted to show off his girl. you even had most of the others give written proof that they were not going to share this in anyway.

you were surprised how eager they were willing to even get the confirmation notarized by a lawyer if it meant that you'd make the tape faster. you knew these guys knew that porn was free on the internet.

oscar told you as you were putting on the lingerie that it was the knowledge that they could never have you. at least not while oscar was breathing. it was a tease of what they could never have. no amount of wins or money or trophies would lure you away from the australian driver.

"you don't know how much some of them want you." he said earlier, "your smile lights up a room and they're like moths."

"and what does that make you?" you asked, curious as to where this metaphor was going.

"oh, i'm the biggest moth! i'm the moth that'll kick their asses if they get too close." he nodded his head with a grin. god you needed him.

his hands dragged down the edge of the jacket, feeling the zipper under his thumbs. he remarked, "you look good in my colours."

you tugged at the collar a little, "i was thinking maybe a red next time... or maybe a green? or maybe a white!"

oscar narrowed his eyes at you before he went in for a kiss, his bare chest against yours and he wrapped his arms around you possessively. you squealed into the kiss and kicked out your legs.

"i'm joking!" you squeaked when he pressed all his weight on you.

he held you face and deepened the kiss, you sweet noises were muffled as he slipped his tongue in your mouth and pressed his weight further onto you. he kept you pinned down onto the bed. he said in a low voice, but still loud enough to pick up on the camera near by.

"i like you in orange, babe. let's keep you in those colours." then pulled away to leaned back on his heels and get his cock out of his briefs. he scratched the side of his face with his free hand as he stroked his cock.

he loved the sight of you, drank you in like a cold drink. his breath hitched and when you tried to take the jacket off to cool down he panted, "don't. i want them to see you wear it when we fuck."

you blushed, "you're such a possessive fuck." then was pulled into another searing kiss. your core throbbed from the tone of his voice and the slight venom in his voice.

he would never hurt you, you never had to worry about that. even if the green eyed-monster came out, you were oscar's precious girl. the kisses trailed down your neck until he got to your chest.

with your breasts still in the bra, he squished them against his face and rubbed his face up against them. then he left a series of wet kisses on the top of them.

"oscar." you said almost breathless as the kisses grew. you could feel the heat burn your cheeks as he continued to worship your body.

"my name sounds so good on your lips, babe." he chuckled before he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek and pulled back. his cock bobbed against his toned abdomen and he gazed at you lovingly.

he licked his lips with want, you looked too good.

you sat up fully and kissed him on the lips once more. you closed the gap between you two and stroked his cock with your legs in between his. he panted into the kiss and a sweet moan left his lips when you pulled away.

he swallowed and looked at the camera with his move star smile, "i get to tap that." and laughed before he turned his attention back to you. he watched you move back up the bed and get on your stomach, you raised your hips and gave them a little wiggle.

oscar stroked his cock to the sight of your ass in those little black panties. they framed your ass so sweetly. he knew he could rip them off and easily get a new pair. but the thought of peeling them off slowly was more appealing.

he licked his lips and said, "pretty girl."

you pressed your face against the pillow and arched you back further to entice him. you knew that oscar had a kink for his girlfriend, or whatever he wanted to call it.

it was almost endearing, he loved the sight of his precious girl all laid out for him. you whined a little, "are you to in love with your own reflection right now, piastri."

he laughed before he pulled the panties off of you. he groaned at the sight of you, even though the panties themselves left little to the imagination. but oscar gave your cheek a quick slap before he was running his hard cock against your slit.

"comon, piastri." you said as you shifted on the bed a little.

he kissed your lower back and palmed your ass for a moment before he said, "of course, dear." then pulled away to grab a condom from the nightstand drawer.

"play it safe, boys!" oscar chuckled as he put the condom on. then it was one hand on your hip and the other one his cock. he slowly sank in, he stayed still for a moment to let you adjust to it.

he knew there was times he went a little too rough and you ended up with some kind of injury. even though you stuck it out and tried to convince him that he didn't. he knew.

you softly gasped into the pillow at the stretch in your pussy.

"you like that, babe?" he asked as he started to move his hips, your pussy was a tight warm heat around his aching cock. he pushed up the jack a little bit to get a better view of your lower half.

you really did look good in orange and black.

you panted, you felt the jacket stick to your sweaty back as you felt him thrust against you. you moved a little back and forth with every thrust. you felt the heat burn your cheeks as he moved against you.

it felt so good, your buried your head further into the pillow to muffle your moans.

"don't hide your face, they all wanna hear you." he laughed as he held onto your hips with both hands and had you against his cock.

"you're such a pervert." you gasped. but it did make your pussy wetter.

he turned your head towards the phone that was recording you, you whined at the sight of you. you looked like a total whore wrapped in oscar's jacket. the bottom of it was pushed up to give him better access to your pussy. your cunt took him so fucking well.

you felt the heat sting your cheeks as you kept your face pressed to your bed. your hips bounced as he thrusted into you and he gave a fleeting glance to the sight of you two fucking in front of the camera. the screen reflected what was being recorded.

you felt a heat through your body as oscar fucked you. the sounds the both of you made were picked up on the camera. you knew that those pervert drivers were going to love the sounds of your moans over video.

"she's so perfect, boys." oscar said with pride, "no one else has got a sweet pussy like this. or a beautiful face like this. she's a real catch and you fuckers missed out." he laughed, "my babe." his pace grew and you felt his cock hit against your most sensitive parts.

you moaned against the bad and lifted your hips further to meet his thrusts. you could hear the wet sounds of his cock filling you whole with each thrust. you gasped into the covers and felt the thrill of pleasure through your body.

this video was nothing if not erotic.

you tried not to think about what the other driver's were doing to themselves when this video got posted in the group chat. how they wanted to admire your body, but it was covered in the driver's jacket.

oscar wouldn't give all of his girl's goods away that easily. he wanted the others to know that you were his. he leaned over you and kissed your neck, his chest pressed against the back of the jacket you wore.

you could feel a throbbing in your head as he continued to fuck you. you briefly looked at the camera and let out a string of moans as oscar just fucked your sweet pussy.

"my girl." he said with a curl of possession in his tone. it made you stomach flutter and your cunt ache.

your heart hammered in your chest as he rocked against you. you panted heavily. oscar's pace quickened, his cock bullied into your pussy. you felt the rush of orgasm thrum through your body, your cunt tightened around his cock as he continued to thrust.

"i'm close, oscar." you gasped.

"that's it. that's my girl." he almost purred, his pulse was in his ears as he bottomed out into you. the feeling of you even with a condom on felt good, there was something about you that just ran him raw.

he panted against your neck and slurred filthy praises into your heart. his entire body ached for you. his other half.

even with the camera on you, oscar would've made love to you that way you deserved it. his heart leapt at the thought of you, the smell of your shampoo in his nose, the feeling of you against him.

you whimpered into the pillow once more as you cunt clenched around him and you orgasmed. your head felt heavier for a moment as you tried to compose yourself. which was hard because oscar was still hitting all the right spots.

"oscar! ah!"

"almost there, babe." he panted as he practically was jack-hammering his cock into you. your ass shook with each of his movements. the bed shifted a little and the camera captured all of it!

oscar stayed with his quick pace except for the last few moments where he was more focused on hard thrusts rather than fast ones. He still pushed all of his cock inside of you and finished with a loud groan.

the clearest noise in the video.

"oh fuck." he panted as he leaned in and kissed your neck lovingly. he knew you were on cloud nine at that moment.

he pulled out and got you onto your back. he wasn't done yet. he however stop the video and started another before he got back between your legs and rub his hardening cock up against your slick pussy.

"let's give them a show, babe." he chuckled before he went in for another hot kiss.

it was two hefty files that were sent to the group chat. with the addition of a message that read, "enjoy!"

[edwin-paynes-bowtie]

I was angry. I'm still angry. But sadness and exhaustion have overtaken that anger, and I have A LOT to say about this.

Dead Boy Detectives is a very special show to me. It occupies a ridiculously large place in my heart, and it's brought me joy in a way that only a few pieces of media ever have. When I watched it for the first time, Edwin Payne had my heart within minutes. By the end of episode one, Charles Rowland did, too.

It meant a lot to me, seeing such wonderful and nuanced queer characters brought to life in the type of paranormal story I have always loved. In these past months, Edwin and Charles have felt like real friends to me, and to never see them again without a satisfying conclusion to their story is something I have not truly processed. Same for Niko and Crystal and The Cat King - they should be back. But I haven't fully processed it yet, that they're not coming back, and yet I am still aggreived.

@netflix is, at this point, so fucking gagged on capitalism's dick that they're not even pretending to care about art anymore. Dead Boy Detectives is genuinely masterfully made on just about every level. The actors did a phenomenal job and I will be following all their careers heavily. Steve, Beth, and the writing team crafted an incredible tale. The sets, the lighting, the props, the effects were all on point. This was a well-constructed program, and you could tell that everyone involved with the project gave it their all because they cared so deeply.

(Also my heart breaks for the whole cast, but it's hardcore hurting for George since this was not only his first screen role but one he clearly thought he would be keeping as of two weeks ago. He seemed so secure. I hate this for him.)

In addition to being a good show, DBDA had good reception. It's got a 92% on Rotten Tomatoes, was on the Top 10 for several weeks, got 4.7 million views within week one, and was getting daily articles posted on various review sites with NOTHING but praise. The fandom is incredibly active. We trend on Tumblr like five times a week and on Twitter regularly as well.

THE. SCRIPT. FOR. SEASON. 2. WAS. WRITTEN.

What the fuck happened?

Idiot executives at @netflix, choking on the dick of capitalism, probably just thought that they wouldn't get new subscribers for a second season of an existing show that didn't rake in Bridgerton-level cash. That's how they work - people who are interested in it are already subscribers, so who the fuck cares about them? Better to make some other shit, hope new people subscribe, and maybe that'll be a Bridgerton-level hit.

But also, Netflix has fun little trends to look into. And, when you look at the lineup of shows Netflix has canceled, they are overwhelmingly queer. The homophobia of @netflix and their operatives is clearly boundless, and it hits here really badly because this show was clearly made with a queer audience in mind. It was one of the most authentic pieces of queer media I have ever experienced, if not THE most authentic pieces of queer media that I have ever experienced.

It's fucking ridiculous that Netflix canceled a show that they commissioned a completed script of months ago. It sucks that they decided that their existing subscribers, their queer subscribers, did not matter.

Edwin and Charles are ours now. Well, of course, they're George's and Jayden's respectively, but the characters are no longer Netflix's to use and throw out. They're ours now, our fandom's, and we all love them so much.

And we deserved to see more of them, and we deserved to see their love story play out onscreen, but I for one am not going anywhere. Let's give Edwin and Charles - and the rest of the gang - millions of versions of the stories and endings that Netflix deprived them of.

[snoopyhughes]

gave you too much but it wasn't enough (qh43)

In which you wonder if your relationship with Quinn might end in death by a thousand cuts.

This is my submission for the eras tour fic challenge hosted by @wyattjohnston and @comphy-and-cozy! I am thrilled to be a part of this event. I received DBATC, and if you know me you know any kind of angst is not my wheelhouse, but I was thrilled to get this challenge and try to create something angsty. It will never be unresolved in my world but hopefully this does the trick :) 2.5k words, fem reader, no warnings that I know of, not proofread.

When Quinn was named the captain of the Vancouver Canucks, you had never felt so proud.

Being with Quinn for two plus years at the time, you were over the moon to see the love of your life, your favorite person in the world, being given such an honor, an honor he worked so hard for, an honor you know he deserved. Quinn was one of the most dedicated people you've ever met. With that dedication of course, comes time. Quinn dedicated countless hours to improving his game, practicing with his teammates, working out in the gym, going on runs, anything he could do to be the best he could be, he was doing it.

Under the moonlight, as you and Quinn celebrated his accomplishment, he promised you that he wouldn't stray away. That his commitment to the team wouldn't outweigh his commitment to you. To being a loving partner. A companion. However, when you woke up, stretching your arm out to feel an empty bed yet again, despite knowing that it couldn't have been much past 7 am, you wondered what went wrong. What happened to cause those promises to crumble. His words to be empty, lifeless. Void of meaning. When did you and Quinn become a couple that told each other lies? Told each other things just because the other person wanted to hear them, not because they genuinely intended to fulfill them.

It was the start of Quinn's second season as the Canucks captain. At first, you thought it was too good to be true. Quinn was thriving in his new role, yet still being the perfect partner. Attentive and on time, compassionate and loving. Now, that version of Quinn is a distant memory, mocking you as you think of him.

It started after the holidays in Quinn's first season of being captain. You chalked it up to post holiday stress and all star weekend buzz, maybe even trade deadline drama. Then the all star game passed, and even the trade deadline. Shortly after you started blaming it on the playoff push, then the playoff loss. And now here you were in November, searching for answers, trying to figure out what happened to the love of your life who turned into a stranger right in front of your own eyes, with nothing you could do about it but watch it happen.

You got yourself ready for work, looking around in the bathroom, on the bedside table, and eventually the kitchen to see if maybe Quinn left you a note, a cup of coffee in your favorite travel mug, a bagel from your favorite bakery around the corner, a sign of his love, signs that he used to never leave the house without showing. Just as you thought, there was nothing. You couldn't even remember the last time you felt Quinn kiss your forehead before he left for God knows what. Another workout, another two mile run after the three miles he did on the treadmill, or locking himself in his office watching film.

Work came and went that day, taking the long way home, dreading going home to an empty house. You thought it would be worse trying to interact with the stranger you lived with, but the silence, the emptiness, the sterile, unwelcoming cold was always worse. You stared up at the traffic lights, wondering if others saw just how foolish you felt. Writing lines to a story that was long over. Grasping on to the book, hoping for a surprise ending, one that would make everything worth it.

To say you were surprised to see Quinn's Porsche in the driveway was an understatement. Usually on practice days he didn't get home until well after 6 pm. You unlocked the front door, not expecting much. Just because he was home, doesn't mean he wasn't locked up in his office, taking notes from last night's game. A game that you never bothered to go to anymore. You knew the other WAGs missed you, people speculated about your absence on the internet, always cruel and judgmental. You couldn't bring yourself to go. You had learned to despise hockey for taking Quinn from you.

You opened the door and were surprised to see Quinn in the kitchen, grabbing a snack. Quinn looked as surprised to see you as you were, almost like he didn't know where you were, or if he even remembered that you lived there. Quiet "hi's" were exchanged, Quinn leaving a soft kiss on your cheek then awkwardly brushing past you to go towards the fridge.

"I thought we could have chicken and pasta for dinner tonight. It sounded good on my way home, I hope that's okay," Quinn muttered out, but already getting a pot of water for pasta ready, as though it didn't matter what you truly wanted. "That's okay," you offered back. "I'm gonna go sit down and read my book. If you need me, just holler." You offered and Quinn gave a nod in response. You wanted to grunt and groan under your breath. How could this be okay with him? It was as though you didn't know him, despite him knowing everything about you.

You tried to distract yourself with your book, but frustrated tears welled up in your eyes. You wiped them away aggressively, not wanting Quinn to see you cry. He couldn't muster up simple greetings, and an I love you would be almost toxic coming out of his mouth. He didn't care anymore, that much was obvious. So why should you?

You didn't know how long time passed, but it was enough time for Quinn to come over with a plate of dinner, unaware of your state. Your heart swelled. Most days, you had been eating dinner at the table, the memories of the two of you loved up on the couch, enjoying your meal and watching your latest binge watch were long gone. It seemed that Quinn was looking for one of those nights, until he saw your tears. His face dropped, setting your plate down and kneeling in front of you.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?" He asked, trying to get you to meet his eyes. You shook your head. How could he be so oblivious? "Are you serious?" You ask and Quinn's expression changed, like you had hurt him. "What do you mean by that? Why would I not be serious?" he asked, causing you to shake your head. "Quinn, things haven't been right between us for months. You leave me everyday without saying goodbye or even kissing me goodbye, you act like spending time with me is the worst thing in the world. I never go to games anymore because I resent hockey for taking you from me. When you were named captain, I was so proud of you I could explode. Now I can't even bare to be in the hockey setting because it reminds me of everything you chose over me. Quinn, I don't even know if you love me anymore." You took a breath after getting it off your chest, but at the same time a wounded gasp came out of Quinn's mouth, like he was a wounded animal.

"You think I don't love you anymore? How could you think that?" he asked, clearly hurt by what you had said. "What else do you want me to believe, Quinn? I can't even remember the last time you told me you loved me. And beyond that, that you ever even showed that you might. I feel like I live with a stranger. You can't honestly tell me that you have felt satisfied in this relationship. That you feel that we love each other to the fullest, that we love spending time together. I haven't felt confident that you feel that way in a long time." At this point you both had tears in your eyes, Quinn feeling devastated by what he was hearing.

Of course Quinn wasn't 100% satisfied with your relationship. He wasn't delusional enough to believe that everything was perfect. He knew that hockey had been his number one priority lately, and he had been trying to make that not be the case.

"Baby, I know I haven't been putting you first lately, and I'm sorry for that. I truly am. But I feel like it's only been this way since the start of the regular season." This had you scoffing immediately. "You don't seriously believe that. Quinn, I could say I have felt this way on and off since January." This caused another hurt gasp to leave Quinn's lips. "Why didn't you say something..." he trailed off, hurt, but he knew the answer.

"I shouldn't have to beg you to love me, Quinn. I shouldn't have to tell you that you have been neglecting me, neglecting us. If you truly can't see what's been going on, I don't know how I can explain it to you. If you think that this relationship has been satisfactory for both parties, I can't change your mind of that. But I won't be treated like this any longer. I think we should spend some time apart." Quinn backed up as soon as the suggestion came out of your mouth, looking like he had been shot.

"You don't mean that, you can't" he gasped. "Quinn, I'm not saying I want to breakup. If I didn't believe this was salvageable, if I didn't believe you could fix this, I would just say I wanted to break up. I believe we can fix this, but I think some time apart would do us good. For us both to figure out what we're looking for and what we truly want. If we find that this is still what we want, that's great, I believe that we will make it work. But this, this... arrangement, this isn't working. I know you seem shocked and hurt, but I know you don't believe that this is working for both of us, or honestly either of us."

"I'll go stay with Petey, I don't want to be in your way," Quinn suggested and you shook your head. "It's okay, really. I can go stay with Brock's girlfriend. Since she lives by herself it won't be awkward for any of us. I do believe we can make this work Quinn, I just don't think we can do it in these conditions." You put your hand on his cheek and his face softened, leaning into your touch.

"Tell me how to fix it, please, I'll do anything," he begged, tears steadily streaming down his face. "I can't tell you that, Quinn. I want you to figure out. To understand where I'm coming from, and want to work to fix it. I haven't been perfect either Quinn, we can both work on this. I shouldn't have to tell you that spending time together once a month isn't enough. I don't know how it can be enough for you, either. If that's okay with you, then this just isn't going to work."

"I'll fix it baby, I promise, I'll do anything." he whispered, almost defeatedly but feeling much better. "I believe you, baby. I do."

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

The flowers started on Mondays. Each Monday, a different bouquet of beautifully arranged flowers arrived at your office. The message was also different each week but it always ended the same way: " I love you, I believe in us." You texted Quinn every week when the flowers came to let him know you got them and to send your thanks. After four weeks of flowers, you were sitting in the front room of Brock's girlfriend, Bella's, apartment, getting stuff done on your computer on a chilly Saturday afternoon. A knock on the door sounded, causing you to pause your work. You had been staying with Bella long enough that you felt comfortable getting the door. Not to mention Bella liked to sleep in super late on weekends, meaning you would be the only one to even be available to open the door.

Your heart sank to your toes as you looked through the peephole, seeing Quinn. He looked different. If your gut was right, he looked tired, a far away look in his eyes, almost as though he missed you as much as you missed him. You didn't want to believe it, wary of getting your heart broken. He was holding something in his hands, fidgeting with it as he waited for the door to open.

"Y/N, hi," Quinn whispered out, taking a step towards you. "Hi Quinn, it's great to see you. How have you been? Would you like to come inside?" You asked, causing him to shake his head. "I can't stay, but thank you for offering," he stopped himself, wanting to keep boundaries in between you two in order for you to be most comfortable.

"It's been a while since we've seen each other, and I wanted to come ask you something. I was hoping you'd like to come to the game tomorrow night? I was hoping this would be enough time, but if not it's okay." His voice was shaky, unsure, almost like he was scared of your response. "I'm not sure, Quinn. Won't it be weird that I'm there? I don't want to cause any drama." You said apprehensively. You were also nervous of what that step in your relationship would be.

"There would be no drama at all, babe. You could just sit with Bell in the stands if you would prefer that, but I know the WAGs have really been missing you. I heard Millsy's daughters have been waiting for you to paint their nails on intermission again," he joked, causing you to smile. His heart melted at the smile on your face, finally feeling fulfilled, that he made you happy.

"I'll be there, Quinn. You can put me in the box. Don't worry about parking, though. I'm sure I can catch a ride with Bella." You both smiled, joyful at the step in the right direction for the both of you. "I can't wait."

________________

For all the time you had spent at Canucks games, you never thought you would be so nervous about what to wear, but here you are. Finally, settling on a stylish Canucks long sleeve with no distinction of Quinn on the shirt, paired with dark jeans and sneakers.

Quinn played a great game, getting a goal and an assist, the Canucks winning 3-1. You were ecstatic. Being back at the games, with your friends, cheering on Quinn, just felt right. It felt like where you were supposed to be. When you met Quinn after the game, he couldn't help himself either, jogging up to you and wrapping his arms around you, lifting you up off the ground. "Quinn!" you exclaimed, laughing out loud. "You did so good!" You laughed as he set you back on the ground. "It's because you were here, my good luck charm." He mused, causing you to blush.

Before he could stop himself, Quinn asked: "come home with me?" Your breath shortened, definitely not expecting that to come out of his mouth. "Are you sure?" You asked him, heart racing at the idea of going home with Quinn, truly where you belonged. "I would want nothing more."

It felt at times that no matter how much you gave to Quinn, it would never be enough. But as you both grew and learned more about yourselves, you both knew that all you could give would always be enough for the both of you.

[zepskies]

Imagine: Soldier Boy Getting Jealous...

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader || (past Frenchie x F. Reader)

Request: Soldier Boy finding out you had something with Frenchie, years before meeting him.

Word Count: 1K

Tags/Warnings: Jealousy lol (With a hint of spice.~)

Imagine: Ben getting jealous over your past relationship with Frenchie.

He doesn't care.

Because he doesn't care...

When you sit him down in the living room of your apartment and tell him you used to date Frenchie, Ben's reaction is mild at best. To the point where it kind of concerns you.

Ben raises a brow and gives a deep hum.

"Oh, really? That limey bastard?" he remarks. He takes a sip from his tumbler of whiskey. You give him a weary sigh.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't call him that," you reply. You and Frenchie are still friends. Your "entanglement" was years ago, before he even started hooking up with Cherie.

But you still want to be honest with Ben. You two have been dating for a few months now, and it's actually serious. No one's more surprised than you by that fact, but...you're happy. You think he is too.

At your response, however, Ben rolls his eyes and continues drinking. You tilt your head in suspicion.

"So you're chill?" you ask.

"Chill?" he quirks a brow at you. Your lips form a smile.

"You're okay with this," you amend.

Ben shrugs and turns on the TV, trying to navigate the streaming apps. You’d put him on to Game of Thrones. Even three seasons into his binge-watching, he doesn’t want to admit that he’s hooked.

"You're fucking a real man now, sweetheart. No skin off my nose," he says.

It's your turn to roll your eyes, despite a warm blush stinging your cheeks.

But the next time you all go out together to a club in the city, Ben watches you leave his side to say hello to your friends: Annie, Hughie, Frenchie and Kimiko. Frenchie takes your hands and makes a show of looking you up and down.

"Well, well. She shoots to kill tonight, eh?" Frenchie says. When he leans in to kiss your cheek, he whispers, "Ah, black leather. My old favorite."

"Stop," you warn with a smile, hitting his shoulder. He's absolutely shameless. "You're too much."

"And you are just enough," Frenchie returns. He whistles playfully as he raises your hand to twirl you around, showing you off in your little black dress and red-bottom heels.

You laugh, but you bump into Ben when you twirl for the second time. Your laughter cuts off abruptly when you see the flinty look on his face, though he's clinging to stoicism.

Frenchie’s eyes widen as he seems to realize the very real danger he's put himself in. He wisely lets go of your hand, pivots on his heel and goes with Kimiko over to the dance floor.

Meanwhile, you move back to Ben's side and try to placate him by looping your arm through his. He responds by wrapping a strong arm around your waist. His eyes bore into the back of Frenchie's head so hard, you almost expect laser beams to come out of them.

"Come on, let's get a drink," you suggest, patting a hand on Ben's chest. He looks good tonight in a burgundy button-down shirt tucked into his slacks.

Ben wordlessly agrees to your suggestion, but he grabs a stool and drags it close to his own seat. He does help you by the hand onto the stool, but then his arm wraps back around your waist, pulling you in snugly, possessively to his side.

You try not to smile in amusement. It's a caveman's display, but at least you know the root cause this time.

...Okay, maybe you feel the tiniest bit complicit, but really, you think Ben's overreacting.

After he flags down the bartender and orders his bourbon and your martini, you tap against his bearded cheek, earning his green-eyed attention.

"You okay?" you ask knowingly.

"Just fine," he deadpans.

"Oh, well that's convincing," you say with a smile. "Do I need to remind you that I'm here with you?"

Ben's gaze hardens. "I don't know. You were pretty happy to let that French whore put his fucking hands all over you—"

"All right. Calm down, Rambo," you say, trying not to laugh as you rub his arm. "Sorry, baby. That's just how we've always cut up. It doesn't mean anything."

Ben scoffs in derision. "Yeah? Fuck if I care."

You frown at that, sparking with annoyance. Somehow, now you actually do feel guilty. You and Frenchie have bounced off each other like Derek and Garcia for so long, you didn't even realize how it might look...or how it might make your boyfriend feel.

Because even with all that ego and injured pride, you have a feeling there's a real sting of hurt under there.

"Hey," you say, squeezing Ben's wrist. His gaze remains stubbornly on the bartender making your drinks.

You decide to take matters more firmly into your hands.

Reaching up for his chin, you guide Ben's face toward yours and press a kiss to his lips. It's slow at first, but it soon gains in passion. His teeth graze your bottom lip, before his tongue demands entrance into your mouth with claiming purpose.

It elicits a hint of a moan from you, your fingers clenching in his hair. Your nails drag against his scalp, almost making him shudder.

Your supple lips eventually pull away from his, nice and slow.

"Your hands are the only hands I care about touching me," you say. Your expression twinkles with mischief as you toy with the zipper on the side of your dress.

"As a matter of fact, I need your help," you add. "This zipper keeps catching on something. I think it's stuck."

Quite possibly because someone got a little handsy in the cab on the way here.

Ben smirks, though he claims your lips in one more slightly rough kiss before he answers.

"Well that is a problem," he says. His eyes roam down your face, taking in your thoroughly kissed lips, and the cleavage peeking out at him from the neckline of your dress.

"Think I can give you a hand," he says, as his actual hand slips down your leg. His fingers brush along the inside of your thigh, tingling across your skin. His half-lidded gaze once again meeting yours. "Better take you out back and fix you up."

You laugh, despite the return of your blush. You cling to his shoulders, while his fingers burn a tantalizing trail upwards.

"Oh, yeah. Save me, Soldier Boy!" you tease.

He snorts in response, but he helps guide you out of your seat.

Moments later, all your friends find at the bar are two forgotten drinks and a couple of empty stools.

AN: Ah, jealous Ben. It's fun to imagine. 😂

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Soldier Boy Masterlist

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[cutielando]

surprise | drew starkey

synopsis: in which Drew surprises you at one of your races

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

"I miss you" you whispered into the phone, your eyes stuck on the hotel room ceiling.

"I miss you too, darling" Drew's voice echoed through the phone, bringing a sad smile to your face.

The room was silent, the buzz of the track long gone as the late hours of the night rolled around.

The city lights of Abu Dhabi illuminated your dark room, casting a cold glow over your body.

The final race of the season was finally there, and you were so excited to finally finish the season on a high.

But still, something wasn't quite right.

Drew wasn't there with you.

He had to do some interviews for his new movie, "Queer", and couldn't attend the race. But even though you understood the demands of his job, you couldn't help the sadness that settled in the pit of your stomach.

"I wish you were here with me" you said, absentmindedly playing with the necklace he had given you for your 2 year anniversary.

Drew sighed, missing you just as much as you were missing him.

But slightly less, because he had booked a flight to come and see you as early as tomorrow, right before the race started.

"I know, I wish I was there with you to watch you be crowned World Champion" he said, teasing you a little with a smile on his face.

You laughed, knowing he was right.

After an amazing season, filled with multiple victories and even more podiums, you would finally be crowned World Champion after tomorrow's race.

Drew knew very well that becoming World Champion had been your dream ever since you were a little girl. It was precisely the reason why he had decided to reschedule his interviews and fly out to be with you during this moment in your career.

He couldn't wait to see the look on your face when you'd see him.

"Isn't it late over there?" Drew asked, after a few seconds in which neither of you said anything.

You looked over at the clock on your bedside table, the numbers illuminating 2:32 am.

"Yeah, it's half past 2 in the morning" you said, the tiredness of the full day slowly starting to catch up to you.

Drew huffed, knowing that you have to get some rest for tomorrow.

"You should get some rest, love. You need to be focused for tomorrow" he said, his voice soft.

You sighed, knowing he was probably right, but at the same time, you didn't want to hang up.

You wanted to keep talking to him, no matter what.

"But we barely had time to talk today" you said, your voice small.

Drew knew how sad you were, but he also knew you needed an incentive to actually start thinking about you and the race ahead.

He sighed, a smile tugging at his lips as he stood in the airport first-class bathroom, hoping you wouldn't pick up on the chatter outside the doors and realize he wasn't home where he was supposed to be.

"I know, and I'm sorry. But you know how it is, we're both busy right now. We'll see each other when you get back, and we'll make up for lost time. But you need to focus on tomorrow so you can show everyone just how amazing you are and win this championship" he said, his heart squeezing at the fact that he's going to see you soon enough.

You groaned, burying your face into your pillow.

Despite not wanting to admit it, you knew he was right. The tiredness from the day was catching up with you, your eyelids now heavy and your limbs sore.

"Okay. You're right. Talk in the morning?" you asked, your voice tired, but hopeful.

Drew chuckled, which warmed your heart and made it long with desire to see him soon.

"Yeah, text me when you wake up. I love you, good luck tomorrow" he said, his voice warm.

"I love you too" you said, your voice drowsy.

Drew smiled as he waited on the phone for a couple more minutes, listening to your breathing get slower and slower until he was sure you had fallen asleep.

He whispered a quiet 'I'll see you tomorrow' and blew you a kiss before he finally hung up, stuffing his phone in his pocket as he went back to the main lounge, counting down the minutes until his flight would take off and he would be a step closer to getting to Abu Dhabi.

A step closer to seeing you.

♡♡♡♡♡

Morning rolled around, your alarm blaring throughout the spacious hotel room.

You groaned as you stretched your arm and blindly tried to find your phone, desperate to get a little more sleep.

“Where the fuck is it” you grumbled under your breath, lifting your head to search for your phone through bleary and sleepy eyes.

Once you finally got a hold of your phone, you immediately disabled your alarm, falling backwards against the pillows once again.

You were tired, your limbs felt heavy, your eyelids were refusing to stay open for more than a couple of seconds at a time.

Maybe staying up late to talk to Drew wasn't your brightest idea, especially before a big race like Abu Dhabi.

After spending a couple of more minutes with your eyes closed, you finally decided to get up and start the day.

Grabbing your phone from the nightstand, you unlocked it and quickly texted Drew a good morning text.

You frowned a little when there was no reply from him, seeing as he usually always responded to you as quickly as he could.

Shrugging it off, you slowly got ready and met up with your personal trainer to make your way to the track.

Still frowning because Drew hasn’t texted you at all.

"Have you heard from Drew today? I texted him this morning but he hasn't replied to any of my texts" you asked Lizzie, your personal assistant.

Lizzie stilled for a moment, but quickly recovered and shook her head, giving you a sympathetic smile.

Unbeknownst to you, she knew about Drew's plans to surprise you, and knew he was currently on a flight to Abu Dhabi.

"No, sorry. I'm sure he's just caught up with interviews and doesn't have his phone on him" she said, at which you nodded.

Maybe she was right.

Or maybe she was downright lying and he was currently minutes away from landing in Dubai.

Only time will tell.

♡♡♡♡♡

"You're due in the car in 15 minutes" Lizzie announced as she stuck her head in your driver's room.

You smiled at her and thanked her, turning your attention back to your phone. You sighed, opening the iMessage app for what felt like the thousandth time in the past hour.

Drew still hadn't texted you, which was really nothing like him to not be in touch for so long.

What if something had happened to him? What if he got into an accident or something? What if he needed your help and you had no idea where he was?

Dozens of dark thoughts were clouding your mind, each more somber and dangerous than the previous one.

Where was he? Why wasn’t he answering you?

Your fingers were hovering over your keyboard once again, thinking about sending Drew just one more text before you really started freaking the fuck out.

But just as you were about to start typing out a message, there was a soft knock on the door.

"Yes?" you called out, your eyes fixated on the door.

There was no answer, but the door slowly started to open.

And then, your whole demeanor perked up instantly. There, standing in the doorway of your driver's room, in Abu Dhabi, was Drew in the flesh.

He sported a wide smile as he stood there, a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers clutched in his arms.

Tears started welling up in your eyes as your eyes found his, looking at you with so much love and longing for all the weeks you had spent apart until now.

"Please tell me I'm not dreaming right now" you said, your bottom lip trembling and your voice croaked with emotion.

Drew smiled and hung his head low, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

"I'm here, baby" his husky voice filled the small room, and that was it for you.

You quickly stood up and practically launched yourself in his arms, your head filled with nothing but love and gratitude for the man standing right in front of you.

Your head was buried in the crook of his neck, and you were inhaling his scent, that scent that could make you weak in the knees in no more than a second.

His arms were holding onto you tightly, the flower bouquet now completely forgotten about laying on the floor next to your little sofa.

"I missed you so much" you whispered, squeezing your eyes and letting the tears fall on his shoulder.

"Shh, I'm here now" he cooed, cradling the back of your head with his big hand.

The feeling couldn't be put into words, no matter how hard you would try. You had missed him so much, missed having him close to you, missed sleeping beside him every single night, missed his kisses and his lingering soft touches.

You had missed everything about him.

"I hope you know you're in trouble for not answering my texts all day and making me worried sick about you" you mumbled, your voice muffled by the collar of his jacket.

Drew laughed, his chest rumbling against yours.

"I know, I'm sorry" he said, kissing a spot beneath your ear, which had his breath tickling the side of your exposed neck.

You didn't even care that you had to be in the car in now probably less than 5 minutes.

The car could wait.

You were too focused on Drew to care about anything else.

But another knock on the door seemed to want to ruin your plans completely.

"Who is it?" you called out, still holding onto Drew tightly, not ever wanting to let him go.

"It's me" Lizzie called out from outside your room. "I'm sorry to break you guys up, but we need you in the car, the race is starting in 10 minutes" she said, which made you internally groan.

For a split second, it had felt like the race could be forgotten. That you could just skip everything you had to do that day now that Drew was with you.

But reality was knocking on your door (in the form of Lizzie) and telling you that it didn't quite work like that.

You still had a championship to win.

"Go, I'll be in the garage cheering you on" Drew said, pecking your cheek before slowly unwrapping his arms from your waist.

"Thank you for coming here. I love you" you said, taking his hand in your hands and pressing your lips against his.

The kiss told him everything that you couldn't put into words. How much you had missed him, how much you loved him and how grateful you were that he was there with you.

"I love you too. Now go, before your engineers have my head for making you late" he said as soon as you pulled away, giving your ass a small pat as he shooed you out of the room.

You smiled cheekily at him and took your helmet, pecking his lips one more time before you followed Lizzie to your car.

Let the show begin, you thought.

♡♡♡♡♡

You didn’t even remember how you had managed to finish the race due to the tears that had been streaming down your face from the final 5 laps of the race.

And then when you finally crossed the finish line in first place, you couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy and emotional because of a race ever before.

Adrenaline was coursing through your veins as the reality of being world champion started to settle in your mind, but your mind was focused on one thing and one thing only.

Seeing Drew.

As soon as you parked the car in front of the “1st place” sign, you jumped up and ran straight to him, waiting for you with your team at the barriers.

You scrambled to get out of the car as soon as you possibly could, desperate to throw yourself in his arms and finally let your emotions run wild.

"Drew!" you yelled out as soon as you got out of the car, abandoning your helmet and balaclava somewhere on the floor.

You broke out into a run, ignoring every single camera or reporter that had been waiting for you.

Drew smiled and jumped over the barriers, outstretching his arms just at the right time as you crashed into him, your hands wrapping tightly around his neck and your head resting on his shoulder.

“I’m so proud of you” he whispered into your ear, kissing your cheek and cradling the back of your head.

You chuckled and closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of being with Drew after you had just achieved the biggest milestone of your career.

“Thank you for being my lucky charm” you said quietly, squeezing him a tad tighter than before.

Drew smiled and pulled away from the hug, cupping your face in his hands and crashing his lips against yours.

It was a messy kiss, very rushed and sweaty, but neither of you really cared at that point. Just being with each other was enough in that moment, nothing else mattered except the two of you in the middle of the busy post-race paddock.

And with flashes going off all around you, you let yourself be carried away by your boyfriend, basking in the glory of having just made history.

And having Drew by your side while doing it.

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[twilightcitysky]

Everything Is Meant (long S2 analysis, part 3)

Part one

Part two

There's SO MUCH excellent meta out there right now, and I'm going to try not to reinvent the wheel too much, but I want to keep going with tying the episodes/ elements up together because on first watch it wasn't entirely clear how everything fit. I also strongly recommend a rewatch, no matter what you felt about the ending... if you need to stop it 10 minutes early, do that, but you pick up so much more the second time around.

So: Maggie and Nina. I spent most of my first watch wondering why we were bothering with them, honestly. Later in the season Nina, and then Maggie and Nina, gave Crowley some insightful advice, but their actual relationship didn't progress despite all the meddling, and the amount of emotional investment BOTH Aziraphale and Crowley had in making them get together was frankly strange.

I started thinking in terms of mirror couples, since that was such a big deal in S1 and that's clearly what they were set up to be, but I made the mistake that all of us made on first watch: that Nina was Crowley and Maggie was Aziraphale. It still wasn't really coming together.

Then I put the psych hat back on and started to think about displacement. Displacement is a defense mechanism, and it consists of satisfying an impulse (usually an unconscious one) with a substitute object. At the beginning of the season, Aziraphale and Crowley aren't really in a good place, and I think on some level they know that. Aziraphale is trying to SHOW Crowley that he wants to take the next step through all the casual touches and phone calls and inviting him in, and feeling frustrated because Crowley doesn't seem to be taking the bait. (I absolutely think that Aziraphale tried to get Crowley to stay with him at the bookshop instead of living in his CAR, and Crowley said no. That's a whole other meta.) Meanwhile, Crowley, I think, is waiting for a Grand Gesture. Where did he go, as soon as Aziraphale brought up trying to get two humans to fall in love? Romantic tropes. Getting caught in the rain under an awning. A dramatic kiss that opens someone's eyes. That's the sort of thing he's always done, right? Big rescues, impassioned pleas on the street, fancy dinners, "give you a lift anywhere you want to go". He's defensive and guarded and unlikely to let someone in unless he's CERTAIN he won't be rejected, and Aziraphale's approaches are just too... quiet. No one's fault, they just don't speak the same language.

Then, they're handed the opportunity to make two humans fall in love, and they're both All In immediately. Look at Crowley's face when he summons the rainstorm. This is HUGE for him. Why? Because of displacement. Look at Aziraphale arranging the ball and being borderline deranged about it. They're both desperate to demonstrate what they think it takes for two people to move past their misunderstandings and fall in love. They can't do it for each other because the stakes are too high, and if either of them shows their cards unequivocally the vulnerability feels life-shattering. They're codependent and terrified of rejection and also, importantly, have no idea what they're doing when it comes to love. "Saw it in a film", Crowley says. Aziraphale's read about it in books. But they have zero practical experience.

Instead of learning to communicate, they try to say what they want to say through the medium of Maggie and Nina, up to and including the questionable moral decision to exert control over people's actions and thoughts during the ball. If I can just make this come out right, they both think, then things between us will be alright too. It HAS to come out right. They're attempting to gain some control over their own lives, over something that feels so overwhelming and shattering they can't look directly at it.

It doesn't come out right. Nina's relationship falls apart, but that doesn't mean she's in love with Maggie. While Crowley's stress-cleaning the bookshop to the music that played when Aziraphale got his books back in 1941 (just fuck me up David Arnold), they come in and tell him so. "I don't understand", says Crowley. Because it should have worked. Why didn't it work?

They tell him, of course. "You need to talk to each other. Say what you're really thinking." But here's the thing about communication: you have to learn it. You need to get the hang of expressing your feelings without blaming your partner, and separating intent from impact, and staying away from getting defensive and lashing out. No one has ever taught Aziraphale and Crowley how to do this. It's like Maggie and Nina put Crowley in front of a loom and asked him to recreate the Bayeux Tapestry. He doesn't have the skills; he's always going to get it wrong, even if he tries his hardest.

And he does try. But that's where Maggie and Nina the mirror couple, rather than Maggie and Nina the displacement relationship or Maggie and Nina the Greek chorus, come in. Aziraphale, as Nina, has just ended an incredibly toxic, invasive relationship with Heaven. A relationship that invaded every facet of his life, isolated him, and prevented him from being close to anyone else. "Rebound mess," Nina says. Aziraphale is a rebound mess. He's transferred the responsibility for his emotional wellness to Crowley. Crowley is the person he calls when he's in trouble, or (and this is key) when he wants to report a clever/ good thing he's done, or when he's bored. (At no point did Crowley reference Aziraphale calling him for a solicitous reason-- another problem.) Crowley is meant to take care of him. He forgets, I think, that Crowley is a person with his own wants and needs, just like Maggie and Nina are people with their own wants and needs who don't appreciate being messed with. (I think things would have been much different had Aziraphale BEEN THERE for Maggie and Nina's talk with Crowley, but he wasn't.)

And Maggie-as-Crowley? Lonely. Behind on rent, at risk of being evicted (it's important to note that Aziraphale saves Maggie from losing her record shop, as he couldn't save Crowley from losing his flat). Pining. Awkward. Revolving around Nina like a planet, to the extent that we don't get much of an impression of her otherwise. They realize, there at the end, that they both need to round themselves out before jumping into a relationship. Aziraphale and Crowley need that too. They need to take time apart and learn to be healthy on their own. Unfortunately they don't have the skills to get to that conclusion in a healthy way, so it all explodes in their faces and everything falls apart.

Aziraphale tries to teach Nina and Maggie to dance as a substitute for communication. Nina and Maggie try to teach Crowley communication as a substitute for the dance they've been doing around each other. That's the reason they're a part of the plot: they exist to demonstrate the way Aziraphale and Crowley might have succeeded in forging a better dynamic. Sadly, the boys' dance is too practiced and they got sucked right back into it.

It's okay, I think, that Nina and Maggie's storyline never really went anywhere. It wasn't supposed to. It's an allegory, not something that needs to stand alone.

[charlotteking23]

No Fool - LN4

Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando tries to make you feel better after your award show goes wrong, but instead creates chaos.

requested: anonymous

"Baby, I am so proud of you, getting this award is a big deal", Lando breathes out running his hands across my body lightly squeezing me.

"thanks", I mutter shyly. I was so nervous about this award. what if I made a fool of myself, all these what ifs running through my head.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look in the dress", Lando smirked as he squeezed your thigh as we rode to the award show.

I couldn't stop admiring him, he looked so sexy in that suit with one hand driving the car and the other hand on my thigh.

"take a picture, it will last longer baby", Lando chuckled seeing my face hot with embarrassment being caught looking at him.

As we arrived, the paparazzi immediately swarmed the car, recognizing the vehicle belonged to the Lando Norris.

As we headed inside the ceremony, Lando's hand never left my waist. Lando and I took our assigned seats next to each other, we weren't in the back but also not in the front it was perfect, made felt invisible.

As time went on Lando's hand never left my thigh whispering some not-so-kid-friendly things. We were in front of the other drivers as well Max, Daniel, Charles and etc.

Finally, my name was called as I got up Lando took my hand squeezing it lightly reassuring me. As I walked on stage, the host introduced me making a little speech.

It was supposed to be a heartwarming speech but had turned into a nightmare. He talked about how the beginning of the season was terrible, making me blush in embarrassment. I could feel everyone's eyes on me as I spoke through the microphone.

I felt like an idiot, I practiced my speech a hundred times but as I started speaking I completely messed up my speech, even stuttering. Finally, when I was done the party could start because I was the last one.

I brushed past Lando when he tried to congratulate me and instead walked over to the bar to order some strong shots.

After a few I walked around stumbling over my feet, everything was so blurry. I couldn't remember how many drinks I had, only remembering the horrible speech I had presented.

I spotted Lando by the tables talking to Daniel and Oscar, looking around every minute as if he was looking for something or someone.

I stumbled towards Lando thinking how do I get his attention, I didn't want to interrupt him so I tugged on his shirt. Immediately Lando turned around, sighing softly as he realized I was the one who tugged slightly at his shirt.

I crashed into his body, hugging him as tightly as possible. "I made a fool of myself", I said pouting slightly against Lando's chest.

"Oh baby, you didn't make a fool of yourself, you did wonderful", Lando whispered in my ear leading me towards the table where he gave me a bottle of water.

"Do you want to go home", Lando whispered. I nodded yes not wanting to say anymore, only wanting to get out of this suffocated place.

Lando waved his friends bye, gathering my arms into his embrace walking me out to the front. As exspected Paparazzi and fans were lined up.

It felt too much, seeing people push each other to see a glance at the F1 driver and his girlfriend. The crowd got pusher and pusher leading you to almost fall when a guy trampled you to see Lando.

Lando immediately helps you, pulling your hands to hold his waist.

“Hey, watch it you nearly hurt my girlfriend”, Lando grunts not trying to get into a fight and reframed from saying anything bad.

“Please Lando, you could do better than this bit”-, before the man could finish Lando punch the man in the face.

You look around blinded by the media flashing lights wanting to see Lando fight. You turned a few seconds later to see Daniel holding Lando back and Oscar calling someone, probably the authorities.

You look at the guy seeing some nasty bruises and cuts. You saw Lando with no bruises and just a cut on his lip but that’s it.

Lando finally calmed down, his number one priority was to look for you when he finally saw your figure frozen a few feet away from him.

He took your arm dragging you to his car where the media flashed both you and him wanting his reaction and comment.

Just as quickly you both left, a deafening silence in McLaren’s car.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you”, Lando said quietly not wanting to scare you.

After a couple of seconds you responded with, “it's not your fault, and thank you for defending me”, you said just as quietly.

“You hungry?”, Lando questioned trying to change the subject.

“I could eat”, you replied starving only eating those mini dishes from the fancy restaurants that barely gave any food.

“McDonald's”, Lando said pulling up to the fast food places. Knowing it's your favorite late-night craving.

“McDonald's”, you said excitedly.

[miriadalia]

Things you can comment on the fanfics you love when you have no idea what to say

From what takes less time to what takes more

~show those writers your love, please!! They do it for free T-T and they deserve better

1. Emojis

You know the vibe of the fic you're reading, chose the ones that suit it better.

❤❤❤

💔💔💔

🙈🔥🔥

You may think this is kind of stupid, but trust me, it is NOT for the writer. It shows you've read until the end of the chapter and that you liked it so much that you decided to say it publicly. Your presence means A LOT.

Also, leaving kudos or votes takes literally just 1 second, what are you doing NOT doing that?? 🤨🤨🤨

2. Simple phrases

I loved it so much!!

Can't wait for the next chapter!!

This was just so good 😍

Amazing as always, keep it up!! 🙌🏼

Writing is a lonely work if you think about it. When I'm in a writer's block, just one sentence can hype me up for the rest of the day and give me the spirit I need 💪🏽

3. The emotions you felt

Yes, you DO matter. That fanfic author cares more about your opinion than your stupid ex so you better write to them instead 🧐

The plotwist was so unexpected, I'm shocked 😱

You can't end with that cliffhanger, how am I supposed to wait another week??

Excuse me, I will now lock into my room and cry all night, thank you 💔

I've read some people saying they won't comment how they felt because they feel ashamed or shy. Take it as if you were about to post a tweet or comment on a friend IG's story 👍🏻

4. One piece of dialogue/prose that really amazed you

Oof 🔥 this happened to me a few weeks ago and that comment still lives in my mind rent free. There's no better way to compliment a writer's work than to highlight something they wrote that left a true impression on you.

And it literally takes no time:

[Insert piece of dialogue], oh she didn't just say that, imma throw hands 🤬🤬

[Insert piece of a description], I could really see it with my own eyes, loved how you described it!

5. Hopes and wishes for future chapters

C'mon, you're going to comment this anyway with some of your fandom mutuals or friends, why don't let the writer know that too?? COPY AND PASTE IT ✍✍

I just need Chatacter A and Chatacter B to kiss, how long is it gonna take?? 😩

Watching that scene in [Canon series name] would have been awesome!! Maybe in future seasons 👀👀

I hope [Ship Name] don't break up in the next chapter, they are so cute 😭

6. Character discussion

Okay, we're entering deeper waters here.

But the truth is: if you love that fanfic that much is because the characters really resonated with you. So express your first thoughts without any fear:

[Chatacter Name] is so important to me, like you have no idea. All the things they went through... But they still manage to be a better person ❤

[Chatacter Name] was so forgotten in [Movie/Series Name], I'm glad they're getting the development they deserved here!

7. Scene discussion

Again, you might think the comment section is no place to start "fangirling" over the stuff you liked. But IT IS!! And the writer wants to know your thoughts on their work, especially if your opinion is all positive 💞

This will take more time, sure. But if you're going to write it anyways for other people, COPY AND PASTE AGAIN, hon!

8. How this story is impacting your fan life (or even personal life)

You don't need to overshare, but simple comments like:

Your fic has really changed the way I think about [Character Name]'s decisions, I feel like I can understand them better now.

This story has motivated me to rewatch all the episodes again 😢 the nostalgia!!!

What you did with [Character's situation] was incredible! I've been there myself and I could have not explain it better 😔

... They will be the ones the writer will remember the most, I can assure you that.

9. A simple THANK YOU

At the end of the day, fanfic and fanart creators only have your feedback to rely on when the block or discouragement hits... This is about showing appreciation to someone you may not know at all, but that has brighten your day with their creations and efforts ❤

[carolmunson]

is he rich like me? (wealthy!s.h. x thick!reader)

desc: hi, we've missed you here at slate insurance hq. i've been working on this WIP since i think october, having the initial idea back then and then going back and forth on it for a million years. anyway, i finally finished it. you and big money steve are finally both on the same page, so here's some porn with plot. big money steve is big money steve, and he loves to spoil his girl. especially before a big dinner deal closing with a new client. tw: 18+ minors dni. p in v sex, oral (f and m receiving), some daddy kink (it's steve c'mon) but he's pathetic, some breeding kink. casual dominance. big wealthy tings. recommended listening: time of the season - the zombies

"what's your name? who's your daddy? is he rich like me?"

Big boxes and gifts were nothing new anymore. Selfishly, they'd become expected whenever you walked in the door from work. Though, if it were totally up to Steve, you would have quit your job the moment the last box of your things came past the threshold of his Tribeca apartment in January. But having at least some semblence of your old life was important to you -- and Robin would lose her mind if she didn't have you to share an office with anymore. Steve on the otherhand, was adamant that once the first baby was on the way, you'd put your career behind you. Presumptiuous of course, considering you weren't even engaged. Tonight was a dinner -- not for the both of you, but for business. Sales pitches, deal closings, re-enrollment. He'd never take you a steakhouse for a date, he'd rather die. But, always a steakhouse for business, 'It's just more -- I don't know how to explain it baby -- money talk, red meat, stuff like that. I know you hate it, I'm sorry, but it just looks good when I bring my girl with me.' He'd make it up to you every time with a new dress, a new pair of shoes, his lips on your neck, your knees to your chest. This dinner was no different, coming in from a nail appointment and a pedicure out to see an array of boxes laid out on your side of the bed. Your main component, which you were expected to wear to dinner tonight, was a black silk dress. "It looks small, Steve," you mumble, holding it up by the skinny straps. Sometimes your wonder if he forgets how full your hips are, how things that look chic on Kate Moss can sometimes look suggestive on you. Not that he minded, he was always very suggestive whenever you dressed up.

"It got it tailored to your measurements, so it shouldn't be," he explains while tying his tie in the mirror, "Just put it on, baby. The car's gonna be here soon."

You huff a little, turning on your heels to his walk in closet -- it might as well be a second bedroom with how big it was. You laid the dress down on the center island where he keeps all of his ties and watches in specially made drawers. You eyed the dress for a moment -- it really was beautiful. Black as night with a high slit on the right side -- of course he made sure it showed some leg so he could run his fingers along the hem under the table.

You take a look at yourself in the mirror in the long line black bustier he bought you. Breasts lifted and high, nearly spilling out of the cups. You'd never seen something without straps have so much support. But then again, you'd never had a bra be custom made either. The matching satin panties sat high on your waist, cut high enough that you'd never see the lines under the silk dress.

Moment of truth, I guess, you think, taking the dress and stepping into it. You waited for the resistance when you pulled it up over your hips but it never came. You waited for the uncomfortable pull of trying to get the skinny straps over your arms and shoulders, but it didn't happen. The dress slid on like butter, like it was made for you.

Oh yeah, duh, it was made for you.

"Can you help me with the zipper, honey?" you call out. Steve still loses his breath when you call him a pet name. So overwhelmed that you want him, that you call him baby and handsome and honey. Honey, honey, honey. Maybe someday husband. Maybe.

He steps into the room with purpose, stopping short when he sees you in the dress.

"Oh, wow," he gasps, "Wow, wow, wow."

"Stop," you bloom heat when he eyes you, "C'mon help me, we gotta go soon."

He steps behind you and you can smell the cedar and sandalwood in his cologne -- having long traded his Aqua di Gio for Creed's 1992 Bois du Portugal. His fingers are warm when he trails his middle and pointer up the skin of your back where the zipper opens, just to watch you shiver. He hooks the closure at the top carefully before pulling the tab at the bottom to slowly close the dress up. At the finish, everything is pulled into place. It was perfect. Dipping and flouncing exactly where you wanted it too, every curve perfectly showcased.

“Do you know where my clutch is?” you ask him in the mirror while his fingers trace your shoulders.

“It’s on the island in the kitchen,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss over the strap of the dress, “But I have another surprise for you.”

“Another?” you ask, eyes wide. He already bought you the dress, the shoes, the lingerie. What else was left?

"Close your eyes." You do, you hear him open one of the drawers and can feel him behind you when something cold hits your chest. He fastens it at the back of you -- you know it's a necklace but it must be nice if he's having you close your eyes.

"Keep 'em closed, baby."

You hear him come around to the front of you, adjusting the necklace, feeling his breath againt your ear. His fingers trail from your shoulder, down your arm to lift your left hand up, "Stay like that." Your heart hammers, but quickly fades out when you feel him put on a bracelet. His delicate touches quicken your pulse, his scent makes your mouth water. Steve had a way of making everything romantic -- getting coffee, going to the grocery store, taking out the trash, putting jewelry on you. Jewelry he bought. Jewelry you know you'll love.

"And lastly..." he continues, while putting your hand down. His nose brushes your cheek when his nimble fingers click a pair of earrings into place -- they're heavy and cold. "Harrington," you sigh, squirming at the pinch of the back going too far into your lobes, "I can put these on myself." "Don't be such a baby, Manhattan," he tsks, smoothing your hair away from your ears before standing back and looking at you. He smiles big at the sight, you simply adorned in his gifts. Steve doesn't know whether to cry or kiss you when he feels his heart leap in his chest. It happens all the time when he stares too long at you, no matter what you're doing. You're his. "Can I open them?" "You can open them," he encourages. When your eyes flutter open and adjust to the light, you see them in the mirror. A platinum set tennis necklace sat across your chest, a matching bracelet on your wrist. Earrings in your ears to complete the collection. You gape at your reflection, mouth hanging open while you try to wrap your head around it -- about how much money you're wearing right now.

"Steven -- they're beautiful..." you gasp out. He stands behind you in the mirror again, grinning at your reaction.

"Sorry there's no ring," he pouts before kissing your cheek, "Not yet, at least."

It was an every other day mention -- the ring. You'd only been officially together for half a year, but Steve knew what he wanted. It felt like you both had been together for six years anyway. You knew the ins and outs of each other, literally and figuratively -- there couldn't be anyone else quite like him. It helt like you both had PHDs in each other's likes and dislikes, needs and wants, goals and dreams.

"Don't worry," you breathe, still not over the sparkle on the rest of your limbs, "This is...this is plenty, babe." He burns in his cheeks -- babe. He's your babe! He presses a kiss to your cheek, settling by your ear to mumble a heady 'I love you,' from the deep base of his chest. His lower lip coasts your earlobe and your eyes roll back in your head, feeling his warm breath fan over your jaw. "I love you so much," he murmurs, hand gripping your waist, you can feel his grin against your skin, "But I need you to hurry the fuck up or we're gonna be late, angel." "You're so annoying," you glower when his sensual demeanor turns into a mean snicker, tapping your ass to get you to move out into the kitchen.

It took every ounce of will power in his body to not cover you in hickeys in the car. He had to give it to himself, he knew how to dress you for stuff like this, and God did your body alway deliver. He had to keep looking out the window so he didn't catch a glimpse of your crossed legs in the rear view mirror of the Bentley. It didn't help that you smelled like heaven, dirving him crazy with every movement, sending Mulger's Angel through his olfactory straight to his boy brain.

He helped you out of the car and waked you arm in arm to the door of the restaurant, always sure to be there at least 15 minutes before his guests. You got accustomed to the song and dance: exchange pleasantries, only ask the wife of whoever he's with direct questions, feign some form of old school obedience, let Steve do all the talking and so help you God if you roll your eyes once he has no problem letting you pay for when you get home. Always in good fun, of course.

Tonight is no different, you look over the menu, sharing sweet moments with each other before his guest arrives. Guessing the status of every couple there, what they're talking about, how long they've been together. A few celebrities come in laying low and you never get excited but Steve always does, still deep down a sweet boy from Indiana. "I think I'm gonna do the salmon," I say with a sigh, "I know that's boring."

"Not boring, honey," he shakes his head, taking off his glasses to clean them off before settling the silver frames back on, "The salmon's really good here." "You're really good here," you tease. "Yeah?" his brow quirks, a smile pulling at his lips, "I heard you're really good here." "Actually, you're really good here," you start to giggle. "Surprised to hear you say that because it was reported in the Culiniary section of the New York Times that you're actually really good here," he laughs, but you're both cut short when you see the m'aitre d guiding your guests to the table. You keep giggling, sitting up straight and crossing your legs under the table cloth so that your thigh peaked out of the slit of the dress. "No more fun, Harrington," you say faux seriously, "No laughing, we have to be boring now." "So boring," he agrees in a fake whisper, but his demeanor changes on a dime when his guest and his wife arrive. Steve stands immediately, hand out for a firm shake.

"Mr. Parker, good to see you tonight," he flashes an award winning smile, the kind that make older men wish he was their son and older women wish he was their husband, "Mrs. Parker, you look stunning. He let's you leave the house looking this good?"

Only Steve can make a joke like that and have it be charming. He pulls the fake string in your back and you start your performance as Business Dinner Barbie as soon as everyone sits down. When the sommelier arrives Steve orders a bottle of white and red for the table and when the waitress arrives he gets himself and Mr. Parker their second highest priced scotch. 'Just because it's the most expensive doesn't mean it's good, they just wanna get the suckers to buy it.' You could mouth the words as he says them at this point, the same schpiel every time.

"And would you like to put your entree orders in as well?" the waitress asks. Mr. Parker orders the steak dinner, rare, which doesn't surprise you because he sort of looks like someone who gets joy out of consuming blood. Mrs. Parker orders the salad because of course she does, she's never eaten a starch in her life, or at least not in the past forty years. Steve places his dinner order, always filet mignon medium rare with a side salad. Steve takes your menu from you to pass to the waitress when her attention turns to you for your order. You open your mouth to speak but Steve's hand finds yours with a light squeeze, keeping eye contact with the waitress. "She'll have the glazed salmon, medium. And I hate to bother the chef but can we pass the broccoli rabe on for asparagus?" he asks, eyes dropping from the waitress to yours as she answers 'Absolutely, Mr. Harrington'. You swallow when his gaze lingers on you, a smirk flicking on the ends of his lips, a moment only shared by the two of you.

"Thank you so much," he replies, still looking at you, "She just doesn't really care for it." He smiles back up at the waitress as he finishes his sentence, pulse quickening when he sees you adjust slightly in your seat. You liked that, and he likes that you liked that. He continues the conversation with a winning smile, pretending like he doesn't know you're melting next to him. Staring at him in his suit acting like you care what he's talking about, like you're not watching the way the leather band of his watch hugs his wrist, how he gesticulates when he talks, his long fingers and big veined hands emphasizing his words. The way his brow furrows when he listens, the slight tensing of his jaw while he thinks of what to say next. While Mr. Parker discusses the potential pitfalls of partnering with Slate Insurance, you feel one of Steve's big hands under the table, resting on your knee. His thumb traces circles on your joint for a minute, you figure it's a comfort touch, something to ground him while he considers his next move. You learn quickly that it's not that at all. He lets a finger trace slowly and softly up over your knee and half way up your inner thigh before grabbing it, slowly and intentionally massaging the fat there, slipping his fingers under the black silk. Your back straightens in your chair, trying to keep your cool while he continues -- soft grazes with his finger tips, back and forth, inching further up as he goes. You grab his hand tightly under the thick white table cloth, catching his lips curl at the edges while he speaks -- no one else would be wise to it. You curse him silently at his ability to always play it cool.

"Have some water, honey," he says sweetly, taking his hand from your grasp and pushing your glass toward you, "You're looking a little flushed." You swallow, your smile a little tight while you take a sip and he watches. A battle between the two of you that you know you've already lost. The cool water passes your lips and you're nearly reinvigorated to try your hand but he comes in with a final strike -- a death blow -- "Atta girl," Steve grins. You've never wanted to pull him out of a restaurant by his collar more than you do right now. Just like always, dinner is a success. Steve always closes the deal before the second scotch so that the cool down conversation can feel more friendly. 'You want the client to feel like they made a friend when they leave so that they trust you. That's business, angel.' He'd say. You say your goodbyes and tell Mrs. Parker you'd be happy to join her book club -- you're unsure how many book clubs you've 'joined' at this point, how many invites got 'lost in the mail'. "Very darling woman you've got there, Steven," Mr. Parker says as he and Steve shake hands, the final seal.

"Isn't she?" he asks, giving you a quick once over. Your blood rushes in your ears at his look, the rest of their conversation muffled by an infuriating need for him. As Mr. Parker and his wife leave, he cleans off his glasses while you both wait for his credit card back for the bill.

"Beautiful job tonight, honey," he smiles, putting his frames back on.

"Do not speak to me," you say with a smile, heat pooling through you while a soft pink appears on his cheeks. "Don't worry," he shakes his head, getting his card back and signing off on the receipt. He helps you out of your chair like a gentlemen, passing you your purse as a means to press a kiss to your cheek, "We won't be doing any talking when we get home."

By the time you get home to the Tribeca apartment, all of your lipstick has been worn off. You're lucky if Vinny doesn't quit being Steve's driver after all of that. "Sorry," he says to Vin while you get out of the Bentley, "Won't happen again, I'm so sorry."

You try not to count how many hundreds Steve flips through when he goes into his wallet, you try not to see how many he slips his driver in embarrassment. Sometimes it still made your chest tight. "You say that every Friday night," Vinny laughs, taking the money, "And every Saturday I gotta get the interior detailed. Goodnight, Mr. Harrington."

The air is a little humid when you get out of the car, sticking to your skin slightly -- the soft rush of the river calms you in the quiet of the night, and there he is, in the glow of the lights outside of your building. He doesn't say anything when he approaches you, just pulls you in for another air stealing kiss. Steve's big hand pushing you in at the nape of your neck to give him better access to you. You frown when he breaks away, a small one, a gentle tug on your eye brows an lips. His hand drops to yours, taking you inside, greeting the doorman and front desk concierge by name as he does every morning and night.

The brightness of the lobby is a harsh contrast to the low light outside and the burst of air conditioning makes your nipples peak in your bra. Goosebumps trail up your arms, but you aren't sure if it's the blast of cold air or the way Steve impatiently waits for the elevator to get you both upstairs. The door barely closes when he's on you, shoving you against the wall of the front walk way. "How dare you," he murmurs, lips peppering kisses from your lips to your jaw, tongue licking hot at your neck, "Look this fucking good all night." "It's kind of your fault," you laugh, panting slightly while his teeth graze over a sensitive spot by your collar bone. You kick off your heels, leaving $2600 on the floor of Steve's apartment.

"Mostly yours," he grunts, pulling you over to the living room after taking off his own shoes. He opens the big vertical blinds so that the city glitters into the penthouse apartment. Steve wastes no time however, getting behind you the same way he did earlier, fingers nimbling unzipping your dress. You both watch it fall to the floor in a delicate puddle, black water silk at your feet.

Now there was $6600 on the floor. Steve takes a second to admire you in your skivvies, his bottom lip tucking between his teeth. He surveys you like a work of art, like a statue carved just for him. You shudder while he circles you, feeling the heat of his ambers eyes burning with need on your skin. He chuckles when he notices you get a flustered, settling down on the couch. He motions for you to you come forward and while you are never one to listen, you make your way over to him without question.

"You like when I spoil you?" he asks huskily, pulling you down to straddle his lap. One arm wraps tight around your waist while the other wraps delicately in your hair. Your stomach presses against him while your breasts heave in his face. He pulls your head down to kiss you, hungry and powerful, while his hips press up to grind against your satin covered cunt.

"Mhm," you whimper into his mouth. His hands reach behind you to the hooks and ties at the back of your bustier. Steve's fingers never met a bra that they couldn't take off in an impressive flick of the wrist.

"Let's get all this off you," he mumbles breathily before sliding his lips from your mouth to your neck. The bustier falls forward slightly before he gets impatient, pulling the straps down your arms before discarding it on the ground. You reach for the necklace but he stops you, reaching back up to capture you in a hungry kiss. "Keep the jewelry on," he says, ambers eyes meeting yours. He's stern in his request and you nod obediently, hands lowering down to meet his chest.

Now there was $8,000 on the floor.

His hands find your breasts and he lets out a rugged groan, massaging them with his hands while he presses kisses down onto the soft skin.

"You can't come with me to dinner looking like this anymore," he murmurs between kisses, "Barely closed that deal. Too busy staring at these tits."

"Steve," you gasp out, giggling, "You closed it just fine."

"Mmm," he nods, mouth occupied by taking a nipple between his lips. You can feel the flutter of his tongue over it while he looks up at you, eye shining wickedly. Your whine just encourages him to keep going. Your hips press down against him, reminding him what you want more than his mouth, than his hands. He pops his lips off of you, the sound echoing in the open living room.

“Is there something you want?” he asks sweetly, leaning back on cushions of the couch. You nod, rocking your hips over his hard cock in his pants, letting out a soft tiny moan at each bit of friction.

“You're so spoiled angel,” he teases, thumbs brushing over your nipples before rolling them between his fingers, making you whine. His voice still dripping in depth and heat, “I think you should work for it.”

“I thought the whole point of this was so that I didn't have to work anymore," you tease back, leaning forward to kiss him. He hums into your mouth and you can feel him smirk into the kiss. Bastard, you think to yourself.

“Hmm,” he considers, palm skating over your thigh, “You do make a good counter point."

“I think giving into my demands is a good return on investment,” you assure, hips rolling against him in a way that makes his thighs tense up, "Imagine the long term benefits?"

He groans when you parrot him, getting harder at the thought of you genuinely listening to his business speak when you do these dinners. He squeezes the fat of your hips, tongue gliding over his kiss bitten lower lip while you take off his tie and start to unbutton his shirt. “Take these off,” he says, looking up at you while his finger traces your panty line. You heat up when he says it, a smug smile blooming on your face. His actions only confirming that he’ll always give in, “If you ask for want you want, I'll consider it."

“Oh, you'll pass that on to your team? I'd love to be considered,” you ask with a laugh, but he's done joking around, a tap to your thigh reminds you that he asked you to undress. You stand up off of him, your feet meeting the cold hardwood, your panties sliding down your smooth legs.

Now there was $8250 on the floor.

He undoes his belt while you stand in front of him, eyes glued to yours while he does it. You swallow when he winks, thighs pressing together — you know he notices. Steve shimmies his pants down slightly, enough that he can keep his legs spread wide while pulling out his length. It's clear that he's painfully hard, a guttural groan escaping him while his hand offers him some minor relief, “Is this what you want?”

“Y-yeah,” your voice barely above a whisper.

“Why don’t you suck on it first and I’ll tell you when you can ride it," he smirks, and without thinking, you start getting to your knees. He stops you before you can make it to the floor, putting a throw pillow beneath you to protect you from the hardwood. Steve can't help but kiss you softly once you make it to your knees, he was never any good at being mean and forceful with you. You'd been right the whole time, he couldn't boss you around -- at least not for too long.

You unbutton the rest of his dress shirt that will now need to be dry cleaned and repressed. You let a hand trail down his chest, gliding through the hair there while pressing wet hot kisses down to his pelvis. Pulling some of the skin between your teeth to leave red and purple bruises behind.

“That’s it, baby,” his breath blends with his words as he adjusts on the couch, leaning back so you have more access to him. You kiss close to the base, tongue trailing over the crease of his thigh, breath ghosting over his shaft while your mouth stays occupied with his heavy sac. You feel him lean back, relaxing while you work him up, his hands coming behind his head, arms bending at the elbows. "Just like that, honey," Steve purrs, "Just like that."

Your hand reaches up to stroke him, slow and deliberate, mouth getting wetter while you leave sloppy kisses at the base and on his pelvis. Your thumb glides over the shining bead of pre-cum pooling out of the tip, teasing over the seam just under it. Your tongue finally glides up to the tip expertly, letting your lower lip catch on the head -- his eyes meet yours behind his glasses, burning with need. It feels cruel to keep him waiting when he looks at you like that, so you don't wait. While keeping eye contact you adjust, taking him all the way to the back of your throat without so much as a wince.

“Oh fuck, good girl,” he gasps into a growl, hand reactively entwining in your hair, “That’s daddy’s girl.”

You groan into the praise, sucking diligently on his cock, thighs pressing tight together. Your back arches into a posture he can only recognize as needy, making him grin while he runs his free hand through his own hair.

“Learned to like that, huh? Whose your daddy, angel?” You smirk up at him in response, tongue gliding from the base to the tip again, taking half of his shaft in your mouth before taking it out with a low laugh, "You are, honey."

His eyes roll back, hips canting up towards your mouth while his grip in your hair tightens. You press him by the thighs back down onto the couch eyeing him while he whimpers when your tongue traces the curve of his cock again. Always on top even on your knees. "Fuck, don't stop," he breathes out. He lets go of your hair, arm reaching behind him to clutch the back of the couch. His hips roll up again, disrupting your rhythm slightly. You taste the salt of him on your tongue while you continue, a soft giggle erupting from your throat, sending shockwaves through him.

"Having fun, honey?" he asks, pulling himself away from you slightly. You sit back on your heels and smile, nodding. He leans forward, blessing you with kisses, deep and slow, "Let's take this to the bedroom."

"I'm on top, right?" you ask. He smirks, watching the jewelry glitter on you in the low light. "Not a chance," he giggles darkly, "Not tonight. Really wanna show you how bad I want you tonight."

"Oh, just tonight?" you ask smartly, getting up from your knees to head to the bedroom.

"Every night," he says with a roll of the eyes, getting up and tossing his dress shirt and tie on the couch. He watches you as you walk slowly to the bedroom, eyeing your smooth skin, the way your hips and waist twist when you walk. He knows you're walking like this on purpose, but he'll never complain. You fall back on the sheets you've been sleeping in for six months and he watches your breasts and thighs and tummy jiggle when you land. Steve grins, sliding off his slacks, socks, and boxer briefs before stepping between your legs, standing over you while you lay on the bed. "Hi," you say, a genuine smile pulling at your mouth when you look up at him. A stripe of amber light from outside pools into the room from between the billowing white curtains, coating you both in a dreamy haze.

"Hi, baby," he says back, his hands reaching down to slide from just under your breasts to your waist, "So beautiful," he whispers to himself.

"Move up a little for me," he instructs, his voice sweet and deep. You scooch up the bed, settling between the mountain of pillows leaning against the short head board while he settles between your legs again. He watches you and the way your body manipulates when he reaches down behind your thighs, pressing the tops of them to your chest. He leans forward, pressing his own chest against what can be felt of yours. Your knees are at your decolletage when he leans in closer to give you another deep kiss before leaning back again, quickly tossing his glasses on the bedside table.

You both stay quiet while he strokes himself a few times, smirking down at your glistening core while he lines himself up to push in. You aren't sure why, but every time he does, it feels like the first time.

"Oh my God," you whine while he pushes in slow, "Stevie." "I know, angel," he nods, gliding in all the way to the hilt. He grunts when he feels you grip him tight, trying to pull out slightly only to get sucked back in. He grips the back of your thighs for leverage, pulling back half way and pressing in, feeling you get wetter around him while he picks up a rhythm.

"Shiii-Steve, that's so deep," you whine. It only encourages him to push in deeper.

"Gotta practice, honey," he grins, starting to pant while he looms over you, letting go of your legs to get close to you again, "Need it to stick when we do it for real."

You pulse over him when he says it, back trying to arch despite your position beneath him.

"You like when I talk like that?" he whispers, his voice sliding back to gravely in your ear, "When I tell you how bad I wanna cum inside you?"

"Mhm," you whimper, nodding against his searing kiss, working himself up the more he thinks about it. "Get you all fuckin' full with me?" he growls, "Keep you nice and pregnant the second I get that ring on your finger?" You burn with lust while he babbles on, wrapping your legs around his waist while his thrusts get rough and desperate. Your body shakes and quivers while his hips slam against you, filthy wet squelches filling the high ceilings of the room. Mixing with a symphony of both of your sighs and moans, the smell of your sweat mixing with his cologne. Slam, slam, slam, slam, slam. The headboard beating the wall between the windows with a thud over and over again. "I fucking love you," he grits out. "I love you, too," you whine, eyes rolling in the back of your head. Heat licks at your lower belly, building while the slight curve of his cock makes the head brush over your g-spot in rapid succession, "Baby, I'm..." "Yeah?" he asks with a knowing smile, "So close for me, hm?" He sits back on his calves, still able to thrust while he looks down at you. His thumb presses against your lips, asking for entry. You let him in, making sure to get it extra slick with your spit before he takes it out, reaching down to slide it in circles over your clit. "How's that, angel?" he asks, thrusts not showing a hint of slowing down, "Does that feel good?"

Your thighs shake, eyes pricking with tears, shining while they look up at him. Well he's pleased with himself, you think, making a mental note to throw him on his back tomorrow and ride him into next week until he's a babbling mess. "It does, huh?" he asks softly, nodding down at you while you nod up at him. "Shit," he huffs, "Oh fuck."

"Not so...oh my god, oh wow -- not so t-tough now, are you?" you giggle. He groans when you giggle, Why are you so fucking precious? he thinks to himself, Who allowed this?

Heat rises even more, the jewelry starting to feel clingy as it sticks to your shining skin. Steve keeps his pace, eyes closing softly while he leans his head back, the column of his neck begging to be bitten and kissed by you. You whimper, pulling at the clasp of the bracelet, tossing it onto the carpet next to the bed. Now there was $48,250 on the floor. Feeling less trapped and more desperate to destroy his neck and chest, you sit up, your manicured hand pressing against his hair covered pecs. It doesn't take long for him to allow it, looking up at you while you climb on top of him.

"That's it, honey, give it to me," he breathes, "Show me how bad you want it."

Your hips move with a slutty percision that he loves, grinding against him for your own pleasure and his. He hisses when you bite down on his neck, letting out a soft laugh when you pull at his hair, "Come for me, angel, c'mon." He hears you pant in his ear while you lean over him, the diamonds in your necklace shimmering in his eyes. You sigh, sitting up straight, unclasping the necklace while you bounce on top of him, gently tossing it to meet the bracelet. Now there was $198,250 on the floor. "Do not," he groans out, hands grabbing your hips with bruising grip, "Put those earrings on the ground, we will never find them until a post ends up in my fucking heel." You laugh, your own head leaning back, making him yearn to taste the column of your neck this time. But your laugh doesn't last long, it morphs into guttural moans while he holds you in place, thrusting up into you in an unforgiving speed. Steve gasps, watching your breasts bounce in front of him while he continues on unrelenting. "Baby..." You squeak out, "Steve...oh fuck, oh Steve -- Steve, Steve, Steve..." The heat builds and builds and builds. Your eyes water while his cock bullies into you. The head hitting your g-spot, pushing in deeper while he goes. You let out a cry, nails digging into his broad freckles shoulders while our hips slam down on him, thighs vibrating while white blooms behind your eyes.

"Good girl," He coos while you shake, collapsing onto his chest, "That's it, angel, that's my girl." He eases you onto your back again, giving you slow kisses on your neck and chest while he chases his own orgasm. It doesn't take long, nearly on the precipice of cumming since he zipped you up in your dress earlier in the evening. His mouth gapes while he sends his seed over your tummy, painting you with ropes of glistening white. "Jesus Christ..." he gasps, settling himself with some big deep breaths that expand his sculpted chest. You both look at each other, panting and sweating, the passion wearing off to a pure and gentle love for each other. You both start laughing. "We swear we're sexy," you laugh up at him. His smile makes you melt all over again. You watch him ease up off the bed, leaning forward from the side to kiss your forehead. He picks up the jewelry, inspecting it for missing gems, or - god forbid - a scratch, and places it carefully on the side table with his glasses. "Wanna get cleaned up with me?" he asks, tilting his head, "Can you stand?" "Oh please," you roll your eyes, sitting up slowly, "I can..sort of stand." You already feel the ache between your legs from taking him, knowing you'll need at least a day to recover from something so big. He helps you up, taking you into the en suite bathroom and getting the water just right for you to step into. "I'll be right back," he says, pulling you in for a kiss on the temple before he disappears in the steam. When he returns behind the glass of the standing shower, covered top to bottom in dark green tile, he passes you a glass of Malbec that matches his. "A little celebratory night cap," he says sweetly. "To closing the deal," you grin, giving his glass a clink to cheers. "To closing the deal," he says back before you both take a sip.

"I know you're not wearing those earings in the shower, Manhattan," he sighs, putting the glass on the product shelf out of the water. He reaches for you ears but you yelp playfully, stepping away from him, "You're gonna be the fuckin' death of me, honey. I swear."

[brokeaesthetic]

Please yall Please 🙏🏾 retire the freaky fics for a day and put some serious thought towards a mini series. I can't take the freaky onshots anymoreeee Please feed me some real food. I can't take it anymore. Like I love what yall are doing, but when I go for my daily dose of fan fics i want a lil more yk( Not saying people aren't writing sfw and fluff they are, i just see that there's a lot more smut, Not saying I avoid smut or hate it but sometimes I just want more substance, Ive been feeling like fan fiction has been oversaturated with smut the past couple years but didn't want to say anything). I am so thankful for the 2 sevika series I'm reading rn. Forgot the titles, but one is about a zombie apocalypse, and the other is kind of a slow burn, but one of the readers' legs is kind of messed up. " Why don't you write some yourself?" If you scroll down, you'll see. I've said this before, but heres the updated reason.. I write like shit, I would probably drop it after like 3 chapters, and I learned the hard way that I'm more for reader than a writer. I'm sure if I locked in, I could really do something, but I'm in Uni😔 so im locking in on these classes. I'm just begging you all to hear me out real quick

Here are 2 ideas

• Vi isn't just looking for powder after she gets out of prison but reader/oc ( Either they were dating before she got arrested or They had a complicated relationship maybe with feelings they couldn't explain, but they were close, you know something along those lines.) There's so much you can do with that and make it a series and even continue it into the second season. ( The relationship is rocky at first because they're both super traumatized, but they still love each other to a certain extent, so they kinda make it work. Then because they're traumatized. They keep making mistakes, yk the typical stuff keeps working, then not working. But Caitlyn isn't completely discarded, they also have a complicated relationship it doesn't have to be romantic, but it's a little interesting. But reader isn't a big fan of their relationship at all because Caitlyn is an inforcer ( Let's say reader also lost her parents to enforcers.) So she's having a really hard time with Caitlyn and vi's relationship. But it's not giving she's playing both of them, or she's dating both of them. Basically, everything is so complicated. But you can tell the reader and vi are gonna end up together at the end.

• This one kind of takes from the story of my oc x sevika story ( but I don't really give a shit I'm not writing about it anytime soon) Basically before all that bs happened with sevika losing her arm she had a fwb/fling/situationship going on, and it was kind of getting a little serious between them. But all the stress of the enforcers coming down ( We all watched the same show there's no need to explain) While all that is happening, they begin to slowly distance themselves from each other because of stress or whatever but then sevika loses her arm, and reader is all like "omg bae your arm why didn't you let me know, You could have died and I would have never known." And sevika is all like " Why should I have told you? I don't need your pity or anything. I would have let you know if I felt like you needed to know." And reader is all like "wtf is with this attitude, You know, you should have told me. I would have been there for you. What's going on right now?" ( By the way, reader isn't just some push over, she's a little sassy ( I love sassy reader so much) So she usually doesn't let savika talk to her any type of way) the story's basically building up trust with any other exploring a relationship and going through the events of season one together, and maybe even season 2.

That's all the ideas I have for right now.But you can't tell me that wasn't fire. If you thought it was fire and you wanna see what you could do with it, Tag me or talk about it with me, I would love to expand on everything.

Just feed me something other than smut fics(ngl ive been eating them but im just tired of it and want something new💀), and please, if you could be let it be a series IM BEGGING 😔😢😢

Sorry for any grammar mistakes

[angelflms]

Cobra Kai has a tone-deaf problem.

Now, I am a Black woman so all of my observations are through the lenses of that. You can critique my words all you want, but don't be disrespectful because I will be equally as disrespectful in the replies.

I have this phenomenon that I've noticed for a lot of shows I have watched that I call "The Leo Dooley effect," inspired by character from the Disney XD show Lab Rats, where the main character, a POC who set the tone for the whole story, is surrounded by a white ensemble cast that slowly but surely pushes that character aside to serve their purpose.

Cobra Kai does the same thing with Miguel Diaz, as he seems to be the sole reason why any of these things on the show are happening (for better or for worse) and gets one of the worst character driven storylines throughout the series post-coma (I rewrote his story on my blog. Go find it under the Miguel or Xolo hashtags) to further make the show The Robby Show (we'll get into the tone-deaf writing of his character this past season in a minute). He becomes a shell of a character, empty, boring, and in the sidelines all up until the final season, where the writers seem to remember *snaps fingers* oh shit, Miguel's one of our protagonists, and writes an okay story for him. Better than his s5 plot, but not as good as the stuff we got in s1, 2, and the last half of 3 and 4.

Now, s6 has him in his true prime (not in the way people claimed he was in the past seasons). He's got a clear mind, he's goals-oriented, you wouldn't even be able to tell that this kid was paralyzed from the waist down a year ago (in-universe time). However, he's out-performing everyone, was single-handedly saving his team, and it wasn't even enough for Johnny. It was very interesting to watch as People of Color, especially Black and Brown people, tend to have to go above and beyond to prove that we're the shit, but it'll never amount to anything if our white associates (minus Devon in this case - more on her later) aren't doing anything. But the second they do, everyone is getting praised. Miguel knocked his opponent out in forty seconds. FORTY SECONDS. But because the team wasn't doing good overall, he got no attention. I know that feeling all too well and it sucks.

As much as I thought Johnny's "Miguel is our anchor" line was powerful, it also didn't at the same time. The Magical Negro is such an annoying stereotype, as well as the Strong Black Woman/Man, and the Brown and Asian variations that come with it.

Miguel is the Brown equivalent of the Magical Negro, trying to tell the white Johnny what's right and wrong. Teaching him what's okay to say and what's not, despite Johnny being grown enough to probably understand shit on his own. He basically is teaching Johnny in a sense despite the fact that it should be the other way around. And I know that's a typical mentor/mentee thing trope but with how the show goes out of its way to show how self aware of modern problems it is, it's hella tone-deaf.

In terms of the Strong Black Man trope (or in this case Brown), Miguel isn't always strong. He breaks down and cries pretty often but it's viewed by the fandom as annoying, weak, and pathetic, as well as not manly which pisses me all the way off because every time he gets emotional, it's with valid reason. Losing his girlfriend (both times), finding out he's paralyzed, apologizing for running away, his mom possibly dying, not getting into Stanford (tho this would've had more of a punch if Stanford actually mattered but it doesn't whatever). Also, he's a 16/17 year old Brown kid in poverty who was embarrassingly bullied MULTIPLE TIMES. You're telling me you didn't cry as a kid? But when Robby cries every once in a while (which is also equally as valid because he was also a kid in poverty who was bullied), everyone holds his hand and says "it's okay."

"He's our anchor." It just sounds so off to me. Like has to be the one to help everyone else, when you have two Captains who can do the exact same thing. We as POCs have to be the ones to hold down the fort and keep things steady on our backs while white people can settle for mediocrity and not have to do to much because "hey, the POCs got us." It's just like that "if you're in danger, find a Black woman" thing. Because we're expected to be the ones to save y'all when y'all are in trouble. But when the roles reverse, we're expected to save ourselves because we're strong. Y'all don't like it when Miguel isn't emotionally or physically tough because y'all expect him to push through since he's the main character, but it also feels like he's expected to push through because he's a Brown boy in poverty so he's been through enough.

Tory's "we have to fight to get a spot in life" speech was well performed by Peyton List but it felt strange to see a white woman explain privilege to a Brown boy who has less privilege in comparison to her. I have always had a problem with that scene and I never won't have an issue with it.

Moving on to Kenny. Kenny is the only Black character of current time to be in the ensemble. Aisha was on the show but left ofc. Kenny, like Miguel was brutally picked on, primarily by white kids, especially by white rich boy Anthony LaRusso. In the fandom Anthony tends to be the more favored overall. Kenny is primarily favored on the Black side of the fandom (much like Miguel). Similar to Miguel, there was a moment in s6 part two that may have not been intentional but in my eyes, felt very racially targeted.

Hawk and Demetri were very skeptical towards Kenny because they assumed that he was working with Silver despite the fact that Kenny didn't even want to do the Sekai Tekai to begin with after he became publicly bullied again. During a round of tag-teamed fighting, the boys refused to let Kenny in, causing them to lose the round due to Robby not being prepared to be tagged in (he thought they were gonna tag Kenny). Kenny gets mad, rightfully so but the boys didn't back down on their theory (the only reason this theory was even a thing was because they say Kenny and Silver talking and assumed the worst). It took the team's "anchor" to give Robby a pep talk to lead and the others will follow (you know, something a Captain should already know) for Kenny to get the attention he deserves. And then Hawk and Demetri finally accept Kenny. All because the white guy said "hey, we should tag him in."

That sounds so off in so many ways.

It wasn't intentional, I know. But the fact that this was something that happened and the boys didn't even apologize to Kenny after for the assumptions they made only furthers my point on how tone deaf this show can get. Amanda, Miguel, and Robby are literally the only people who see Kenny as more than just a Silver puppet and it sucks because Hawk and Demetri were in the same spot as Kenny once upon a time.

And then there's Devon, the overworking, overwhelmed Asian girlie who tries her hardest to seek validation and gets overlooked. Similar to Miguel in this new part, Devon got ignored badly in the first part. It was so bad that she cheated to get into the Sekai Tekai and got her ass handed to her. And like Miguel, it takes her to have to explain to her white sensei that she's being ignored for him for her to be taken seriously. She's not the best fighter by any means but I thought we were done with this Asian stereotype years ago. And the way Sam talked to her after literally celebrating her victory with all smiles and everything in the first part??? Like it felt so fake as hell.

Finally, Robby. Robby is written well, we all know that. But this shit that they did to him in the second part pissed me off, especially since it's not gonna get addressed apparently. So Robby gets drunk at a bar and basically follows Zara back to her hotel room. Next time we see them, he's disoriented, and she's kissing him. I'm sorry, but that's sexual assault, yes? Robby was drunk and didn't remember anything. So that's her taking advantage of him, yes? Well the creator apparently doesn't think so and is saying that Robby made a mistake and that the interaction won't be talked about next part.

Bitch, Robby is a VICTIM.

Zara sexually assaulted him. Just because he's a man doesn't change the fact that the man got taken advantage of by Zara.

Like did we watch the same scene?

This show has so many problems and I feel like since it's a show about fighting no one cares. But as a Black woman, I see this shit and in between the lines, there's so many issues that won't even get fixed because the show is over.

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.2

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut

Summary: Reader gives friendships a try, and the first signs of Daryl changing start showing after unexpected tragedy.

Notes: I love writing Merle and early season Daryl, I hope they're in character!

"I'm ten seconds away from blowing his goddamn brains out."

"Not worth the wasted bullets." Daryl watched as Shane stalked back up towards the Greene house. You scoffed and rolled your eyes when you saw him stopping himself from slamming the door, at least needing to respect Hershel gave him some restraint from being a complete piece of shit. You weren't sure how long that would last though.

"Can't fucking stand these people Daryl. He looked like he wanted to kill me."

"Ya called 'em a homewrecker. The hell'd you expect?"

The days would go by without pause, no matter how you all screamed and cried for just one minute, one minute to get it together and breathe. Everything was constantly changing, and it ended up making you colder. 

The Greene farm was a nice place. You enjoyed the chores you took on there, you got to work with the horses, the cows, and the old barn cat. He'd end up passing away after a while, which would have really upset you if it hadn't been such a peaceful death, he just fell asleep with a stomach full of deer stew and never woke up. 

Andrea's strange half admiration and half disturbed likeness to you strengthened at the time on the farm, which you didn't know how to handle. You'd always wanted a girlfriend, ever since your first one in 6th grade ended your friendship. Your mother had shown up to pick you up from school, so high on Percocet she could barely keep her eyes open. She rear-ended the father of your friend, he got pissed, she spit in his face, and he called the police. ‘My daddy says I can't hang out with trailer trash like you anymore.’ She'd told you the next day. 

You secretly liked the way Andrea looked up to you. It was nice having a woman think highly of you, or any adult for that matter. She would often ask for shooting practice, and you even let her try out your bow a few times. 

She kind of fucked up your budding friendship when she shot Daryl. If you hadn't been so busy helping him get up into the house you would have shot her in her foot, and that's not an exaggeration. You wanted to stay up in that room with him until he fully healed, willing to sleep on the floor just so you'd be with him at all times, but the insecure fear of being seen as weak and clingy prevented you from doing so. You were out in the woods most of those days, hunting or killing any dead you ran across.

It was almost humiliating the way people would update you on Daryl’s condition. At first it was just Rick letting you know he’d be okay, but then it was Maggie and Hershel updating you on his eating habits, how much he ate, when he ate, he was only in bed for a couple of days, but it felt like weeks. Each time someone would tell you the miniscule details of his day you’d respond the same way, ‘Why’re you telling me? I’m not his mamma’. If you could look past the embarrassment of feeling like a worried child, you would be grateful. 

Andrea unknowingly made it up to you when you heard her bitching at Lori in the kitchen once, apparently having enough of her ‘a woman's place is in the kitchen making life worth living, leave the guns to the men' spiel. You complimented her afterwards. 

“Been real sick of that shit.” You had said as you loaded your Ruger pistol. “She's lucky it was you who said it, I think I would've punched that bitch in the face if she said that bullshit to me.”

Andrea was almost too stressed over the Beth situation to fully appreciate the gravity of your praise. She nodded as she looked over the field, eyes squinting against the bright afternoon sun, her arms crossed over her chest. “All my life I've heard that kind of thinking from men. It's different when it's a woman telling you that you're not worth the same as a man. Especially when said man lied about her husband being dead and got in her pants right after.” 

You smirked, stuffing your gun into the back of your jeans as you looked her over. “Wanna go kill some dead people?” 

“Oh, god.” She groaned dramatically. “That's the best idea I've heard all week.”

After you lost the farm, you wound up at an old prison. That was one of the rare times you had allowed yourself to try and be positive, and forced yourself to make friends, although it was obvious all your relationships were strained. Andrea was the only person who had ever made an effort to get to know you, and she was gone. 

Shane’s death didn’t affect you much, truthfully you were glad Rick killed him. The constant tension and heated arguments drained you just as much as Dale’s annoying humanitarianism. You attempted being friends with Lori, Hershel, Carol and Beth, despite the young girl being your polar opposite. She was soft, pretty, sweet and bubbly, you were hard, mean, vulgar and distant. 

Which might be one of the reasons your relationship with her had started to work. Beth saw you as a challenge, like a mean feral cat, and deep down you saw her as a possible redemption. If you could become friends with Beth, the sweetest girl with the kindest heart, you could do it with anyone. 

Lori never trusted you, so you never got far with her. She would look at you with this look on her face, like you were always seconds away from cutting her baby out of her stomach or some twisted shit. You had cursed her out once for said expressions, calling her a stuck-up bitch who thinks every woman that isn't her is beneath her. She died a couple days later, and a part of you that you couldn't push away felt like shit about it, for a very long time.

The whole Governor shit was a pain in your ass. But it was a blessing in disguise, because he was the reason you were reunited with Merle. 

“I want to come.” You stood your ground, grabbing your Ruger AR-15 from its spot on your cell wall. 

“I said no, we’ve got enough concerns, we don't need to be worrying about you.” Rick tried to speak in a hushed tone, his intentions good, not wanting you to feel embarrassed if the others heard you being denied. They knew you seethed at the prospect of being told what to do. You didn't work well with others, that was glaringly obvious.

“I don’t need you to worry about me.” You hissed, tugging the heavy gun over your back so the strap dug into your shoulder. 

Rick repeated your name, using his angry father tone, and that seemed to work. Your shoulders drooped and you growled out a few insults under your breath. You missed when the group members had more say in the way things were. Rick had become more authoritarian after Lori died, and it never affected you until that day. 

When they got back you were waiting at the door, pacing like a mother in those movies whose children had stayed out too late. Your eyes brightened as they filed into the prison, you saw Maggie and Glenn were back, and Michonne had returned as well. 

Your anxious smile slowly faded as the door closed behind them, counting two missing bodies. 

“Where…?” You breathed, looking between Rick and Maggie, your heart racing. 

Rick started having a goddamn mental breakdown after that, screaming at the walls and pointing his gun at things only visible to him. Tyrese, the newcomer, and his group fled, and a part of you considered it as well. If Daryl and Merle were dead, you had no reason to stay. Especially not with Rick behaving like a fucking maniac and no one speaking to you. 

True to your nature, you abandoned the prison in search of the Dixons. You knew they couldn’t have truly left, they would never do that, they'd never leave and forget you. Especially Daryl. He had promised to you one night after you fully secured the prison, that he was the one thing in your life that would never change. He’d never die, he’d never leave, he would always be there. Not in those exact words, of course, but in his own way.

He had stayed true to his promise. You found the two of them on their way to the prison, traveling through the same trails you’d originally used to find the place. 

“Thought I’d never see you two assholes again.” The apocalypse had made you more skilled at hiding your true emotions. You came off as playfully irritated, a contrast to the way you were barely keeping tears at bay. 

“Awww,” Merle teased in a condescending tone, faking a pout, “You miss us?”

“No. Rick’s group makes you seem like a peach though.” 

“Our group.” Daryl’s voice had taken on a strange edge as he walked ahead of you down the trail. “Those are our people now.”

You glanced at Merle to see he was outwardly displaying your same reaction, rolling his eyes and silently mimicking his brother's words. 

No matter how happy you were to see the two of them, Daryl’s reply echoed in your head for a long time. He meant what he said, you could tell by the way he spoke. He was changing, you hadn’t noticed it until that day, he wasn’t the same Daryl from Atlanta, the Daryl you knew. You swallowed your retort and followed him back to the prison. 

The Governor shit was really a pain in your ass after that day, making your earlier experiences a walk in the park. Through the tense days you found yourself around Merle more, the two of you discussing the prospect of just getting the fuck out of there in hushed voices, despite you both knowing Daryl would never abandon Ricks group. It was like he had some sort of unknown obligation to them, something you couldn't decode for the life of you, no matter how hard you tried.

“You're gettin’ real close to bein’ a bonafide pussy, boy.” Merle had said one day, shoving his finger in Daryl’s face. You stayed silent as they argued, biting at the soft skin inside your cheek. 

“Why? Cause I ain't jus’ lookin’ out for myself no more? Cause I actually give a shit about these people?” Daryl standing up to Merle wasn’t a familiar sight, and it made you feel emotions you really weren’t comfortable with. 

“It’s making you weak, brother.” Merle urged, nearly slicing his own scalp when he went to put his hands on his head, the heat of the moment causing him to forget his right hand was now a weapon. “Can't you see it? I ain’t gonna let you die for these sheep.”

Daryl would soon come to regret his last interaction with his brother. You, on the other hand, were lucky enough to have had some peaceful final moments with him before he vanished. 

“Dude, that's my fucking bed!” You shoved Merle away from your mattress, groaning when you saw it shredded and ruined. You’d have to go to the other cellblock and get another, if he hadn’t already paid those cells a visit. 

Merle sat on the floor breathing heavily through his mouth, resting an arm over his propped up knee.

“The hell you do that for?” You grumbled, kicking a chunk of bedding out of your cell and into the hallway. 

“Hopin’ to find some contraband.” 

“Dude, you could’ve just asked me. Holy shit.” You grabbed one of your bags from the corner of your room and began to dig through it, finally pulling out Merle’s old stash bag. HIs eyes lit up and he practically jumped for joy, snatching it out of your hands.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” He grabbed your face with his hand and noisily kissed your cheek, making you groan and shove him off. “Oh sweetheart. Whooo! Daryl know about this?”

“No, didn’t want him to know. I’m better at making shit last than him.” You replied. Daryl didn't like drugs the way Merle did, he had his run in with meth and its consequences and he was strong enough to quit and not touch it again. Other drugs were a different story though, you suspected the speed and painkillers would be gone by now if he had known you were the one who stole it.

He fished out the group of smaller baggies he was looking for, full of various shades of white in different textures. He groaned like he just creamed his pants and leaned over, planting another dramatic smooch to your forehead.

You stayed with him on the floor of your cell as he got high, and eventually he left to go ‘clear out the walkers in the tombs’, something you were happy to sit out on. He told you to stay back and you laughed, teasing with a ‘it's all yours, tweaker’. 

Even though your last moments with him were pleasant, you never forgave yourself for not accompanying him. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° mind on the road, your dilated eyes

( rin itoshi x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — i decided i didn't have enough series running and knew i needed to write an F1 AU :)

♡ word count — 1k

♡ content — rin itoshi x fem! reader, fem! reader, Formula 1 racing mentioned, F1 AU, F1 racer! rin, F1 engineer! reader, unrequited love, rin is still chasing after sae in this, mentions of a car crash, my very few years of watching F1 gave me a few ideas on the vocab to use, not proofread :)

♡ synopsis — A life where Rin Itoshi wasn’t consumed by rivalry, where you weren’t just his race engineer. But this life wasn’t that. And you knew, deep down, it never would be.

The roar of engines filled the air, bouncing off the grandstands of the Monaco circuit. The harbor shimmered under the Mediterranean sun, luxury yachts bobbing lazily in the distance. The race-day chaos was a familiar buzz, but it did nothing to calm Rin Itoshi’s restlessness.

He sat in his driver’s room, dressed in his fireproofs, staring blankly at his helmet on the table in front of him. For years, this time—these last few minutes before the grid—had been sacred to him. No one was allowed to interrupt. Not his PR team, not the pit crew. It was a rule everyone on the team knew better than to break.

Until you showed up.

You knocked lightly on the door and stepped inside without waiting for a response. “You ready, Itoshi?”

He looked up, his sharp green eyes narrowing slightly. “I was, until you came in.”

You smirked, unbothered. “We both know that’s not true. You’d already overthought everything twice by now.”

Rin didn’t respond, but the faintest twitch of his lips gave him away. This strange routine had become a tradition over the past season. Somehow, you were the only person who could step into his space without ruining his rhythm. In fact, since you’d joined the team, he’d gone out of his way to see you before every race.

At first, you thought it was a coincidence—a simple matter of logistics or convenience. But as time went on, you started to realize it wasn’t. Rin sought you out, even if he’d never admit it.

You adjusted the fit of his earpiece and handed him his gloves, your fingers brushing his as you did. “You’ve got this, Rin. Don’t let Sae get in your head today.”

The mention of his brother made his jaw tighten, his eyes flashing with something darker. “Easier said than done,” he muttered, pulling his gloves on.

You sighed. It was always like this. No matter how much effort you put into preparing him for the race, Sae was always there—a ghost Rin couldn’t outrun. It didn’t matter that you were the one who reminded him to drink water, who stayed up late analyzing telemetry, who knew how he liked his corner entries fine-tuned to the millimeter. You’d never be first in his eyes.

That spot belonged to Sae, and Sae alone.

The grid was chaos. Journalists swarmed the drivers as they took their places, cameras flashing and microphones thrust forward in search of soundbites. Rin ignored them all, climbing into his car with mechanical precision.

“Comms check,” you said over the radio as he settled into his seat.

“Loud and clear.”

“Good. Remember, you’re starting third. Don’t push too early—this is Monaco, not a track you can afford to gamble on.”

“I know.” His tone was clipped, but you could hear the undercurrent of tension.

You bit your lip, resisting the urge to say more. He was already on edge, his focus narrowing to a dangerous point. Sae sat on pole position, cool and untouchable as always. And Rin... Rin was chasing him, as he always had.

The lights went out, and the race began.

For the first 40 laps, Rin held steady. He kept a calculated distance from Karasu Tabito in second place, biding his time. You fed him updates through the radio, your voice calm and measured despite the growing knot in your stomach.

“You’re doing good, Rin. Karasu’s tires are degrading. Wait for your window.”

But you could feel his frustration building. Sae was still in the lead, his car slicing through the track of Monaco like it was made for him. Rin didn’t care about second place or podiums. He cared about beating Sae.

By Lap 60, the pressure cracked.

“Karasu’s slowing,” you warned as Rin closed the gap. “Wait until the straight to overtake—”

“I’m not waiting,” Rin snapped.

“Rin—”

He went for it.

In the tightest corner on the circuit, Rin dove to the inside line, attempting an impossible overtake. You watched, helpless, as his front wing clipped Karasu’s rear tire. The collision sent his car spinning out, slamming into the barriers with a sickening crunch.

Your breath caught in your throat. “Rin, respond! Are you okay?”

A pause, then static. Finally, his voice, low and rough: “I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t.

The garage was quiet after the race, the energy sucked out of the room. The rest of the team gave Rin a wide berth as he sat on a crate in the corner, staring at the floor. His helmet sat discarded at his feet, his fireproofs smeared with dirt and grease.

You approached cautiously, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate the intrusion. “Rin,” you said softly.

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to check on you.”

He looked up, his eyes dark and tired. “I don’t need you to baby me.”

“I’m not trying to baby you. I just... I care, okay?”

He snorted, the sound bitter. “Care about what? The points we lost? The standings?”

“No,” you said, your voice steady. “I care about you, Rin. But you’re too busy chasing Sae to see that.”

His expression hardened. “Don’t talk like you know me.”

“I do know you,” you shot back. “I know you’re your own worst enemy. I know you’d rather destroy yourself trying to beat Sae than accept that you’re enough as you are.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unforgiving. For a moment, you thought he might argue, but he didn’t. He just looked at you, his expression unreadable.

“Maybe,” he said finally, his voice quiet. “But it doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“In another life, maybe.” His gaze softened, and for a fleeting second, he wasn’t Rin Itoshi, the prodigy, the rival, the shadow.

He was just Rin.

But the moment passed, and he stood, walking away without another word.

That night, as the paddock emptied and the last of the team packed up, you sat alone in the garage, staring at the remnants of his car. The metallic hum of the lights above was the only sound, a harsh reminder of the silence he’d left behind.

You thought about his words—about another life. A life where he wasn’t consumed by rivalry, where you weren’t just his race engineer, where the lines between you weren’t drawn so starkly.

But this life wasn’t that. And you knew, deep down, it never would be.

You'd do anything for Rin, in another life.

But this one isn’t yours to share.

And you had to learn how to live with that.

when the brain worms get me, i must do what they want :)

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[wyvernspirit]

So after watching all of Jentry Chau Vs The Underworld in the past 2 days I've quite a bit to say

This show needed to be two seasons long, I feel half my critiques would probably not exist if it got the runtime it deserved

Kit had the most interesting character arc and was done the most dirty of everyone by the lack of runtime later in the season and also the characters around him??? Can everyone stop treating Kit like shit for two seconds please??

I at multiple points went "God this feels like arcane levels of Greek tragedy" so it has that going for it

If it has ended as a season 1 on episode 9 (I think? The episode where she's out on the field and Cheng revived his daughter then the portals are opened) it could have been a really solid set up for a season 2, but unfortunately the next final episodes feel incredibly jam-packed and rushed with no room to breathe

The music and fight scenes were arguably the best part of the show, there was some really interesting "camera" work too

I didn't like how Michael basically played with 3 girls feelings for the whole show, particularly sorry to girl from the last episode who doesn't even get a name as far as I can tell

(also the way he went "and Kit did you love him too??" as some kind of snap back to Jentry like HE DIDNT LITERALLY JUST DIE MICHAEL CAN YOU STFU FOR TWO SECONDS NOT THE TIME)

Michael kinda just sucked? Like I wanted to like him but he's very meh to me and I'm sorry but the reveal of him actually being really bad at the flute just, threw me off completely especially because instruments are expensive!! He didn't buy it on a whim, the whole thing is he's supposed to have this deep passion for music but like it's not really reflected at all?? There's not even any conversations between him and Jentry about music outside band tryouts

And him having powers I guess could have been set up for a season 2 but we end this season really conclusively? All the plot threads and character arcs wrapped up. Like if anything I could see a spin off with him maybe but- like I don't want one, I just could see that happening

Actually to go back a paragraph for a second, that's something the show does a few times where it drops these very sudden interests of the characters and pretends they had them all along?? Like Jentry and baton twirling, like come on wouldn't it have made more sense if she got sought out by the school dance team or something?? Or just have her main spirit fighting weapon be a baton!! Show her having genuine interest in that aspect of spirit fighting and then have it reflect later in school? Like why did these girls see a video of Jentry dancing and go "Hey she could probably baton twirl!" that makes no sense!

The animation was really great! More than that even, I love the art style and art direction this show has, it really gave me some major inspiration! I want to draw some fanart really badly!!

Okay this a major IN MY OPINION, low-key I think the show might have been more interesting if it was just set in Seoul for the whole time, I preferred Jentrys friends there, I much preferred the environments and the colours the art direction had in the setting of Seoul

I didn't really care for Texas in the show and It made the feelings of her later questioning if she should return or not be hollow to me the viewer, because I was like OF COURSE SHE SHOULD

Stella is a character I have complicated feelings on! I really did not care for the minuet of Michael's introduction at school her getting weighed down as just "the girlfriend" character and how Jentry wasn't allowed form a meaningful connection to her until after Michael and her broke up, hell Stella basically gets forgotten by the plot until the last 4ish episodes, and IN THOSE she's a REALLY fun and strong character! I love how she started learning seals and was such a a big part of them winning that final fight at the school, which frankly I don't think she gets enough credit for

And while I find her blushing at Jentrys other friend cute it just makes me sigh because now I realize the show totally could have just done a "Fuck the boys" Jentry x Stella ship and I would have been totally down

Actually low-key I think my ideal is Kit and their Girlfriend Jentry and Jentrys Girlfriend Stella ((and I guess maybe Stella's boyfriend Michael if he got written better, but meh don't expect me to include him in the polycule if I ever write Fics/draw art for this show))

Also speaking of Kit god I would love them to be genderfluid or I guess it to be acknowledged? As queer and not just, because their a skin walker. Like you can read them that way because of them being a skin walker demon but like if it was acknowledged in the show after making Jentry's skin he experimented a little with how he looked as Kit and his sense of fashion and style!!

Idk I would have loved it, I have some strong feelings on how this show had hints of queerness but never actually acknowledged that queerness besides I guess Jentrys fake parents being like "So do you have a boyfriend?? ..or a girlfriend??" Which I mean, I guess, diversity win the cat spirits pretending to be your dead parents don't care if your gay!

I was very invested in the mysteries of the Chau family for the whole run I just wish that they had time to breathe, we went from one revelation to the next and each one hit just that little bit less because there was no down time given between them.

Okay overall though, it's going to be rotating in my mind like a microwave for the next two weeks I can tell

I don't know if it's strong enough to stick around as a major fixation but maybe a minor one where I occasionally get drawn back over the characters who had so much potential to me

I'd say a solid like 8/10

Yeah I know I just did all that whining and complaining

But I did genuinely enjoy most of the viewing experience and the ideas behind it

It was good, I think other people should give it a try, it deserves a lot more love and attention for sure

[bun-z-bakery]

𝛢 𝛭𝑒𝑚𝘰𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑊𝑖𝑛𝘵𝑒𝑟

Paring: Alien!Dogday x Gn!Astronaut!Reader

CW: Mentions of past injury, jealousy.

A/N: I wanted to write something else for the holiday season that's upon us which means our favorite boy is back! I missed him so much, so I decided to whip up something for our not so lonely alien. if you're new I'd recommend you read the first few alien dogday fics here <- as they tie into this. This series is more of a collection of works however they still connect even if they aren't direct sequels :3

PPT Menu | Works Menu | Ao3

The cold chill in the air strained your lungs as your breath formed clouds with every exhale. You were wrapped from head to toe, but as they say, nature always finds a way. Your frozen gloved fingers were proof of that. Even though the warm glow of your bangle gave off some heat, it wasn't enough to suffice. With every step you take through the thick snow, the more you regret leaving the house, but it was for a good cause. To feed a certain alien who you just so happened to be married to now. You announce your return as you swing open the door. "Dogday I'm—" You were cut off by the dog-alien pulling you into a tight embrace. His fur was warm, and his scent was reminiscent of yours, seeing as you both spend most of every waking hour together.

Dogday's body was warm, you didn't want to let him go, not after your fingers felt like they'd fall off at any minute. Winter was brutal and, for some odd reason, chose you to take its vengeance on. However, you thank your lucky stars you had a personal heater that loved to cuddle, even more so in the winter, and that your injury was fully recovered now thanks to said personal heater. "My human! You are freezing! Is the cold weather harsh for humans? Is the food cold too?" Dogday's face was full of concern, and quickly he grabbed the grocery bags and held them within your embrace. It was an awkward position, but a smile couldn't help but creep up as you watched the kind-hearted alien being concerned over something like canned vegetables and flour. "Dogday, some food likes being cold; it helps them. The food is alright, silly." You kissed his furry cheek, and as you've grown to become accustomed to it, the sound of his tail thumping, his antennae glow, and happy chirps were a sure sign he was in a world of bliss.

"Can I help you make food?" His eyes light up, and for a split second, you could've sworn you saw little stars. You weren't going to be so cruel as to turn him down, he was still adjusting to this new life, and so were you. Why not let him have this experience? "When we get back home! I promised you something, remember?" and with that, Dogday was almost already out the door, his grin wide, tail wagged harder, and his antennae only gleamed brighter. Needless to say, he was ready for whatever adventure you both were set to go on today. As you grab his leash, you motion for him to take on his smaller dog form. Once he's changed, you latch the leash onto his collar you gave him a while ago and set off on your adventure. Luckily you were bundled from head to toe still, but the snow seemed to have subsided just like you had hoped.

Dogday glances around at the strange fluffy yet chilly substance on the ground. He's seen it on the shows you two would watch and outside the windows, but never stepped outside without you, of course. His little paws make prints in the snow as he trots around. You giggle at him, "Come on, little buddy, we're on a time limit, and I want to take you somewhere special!" You give his leash a gentle tug, even in his dog form, you can tell he is smiling. The walk was shorter than your walk from the grocery store early this morning. The sidewalks have been shoveled, and some of the ice has melted now. Dogday glances around in awe as his tongue waggles with every step he takes. "Look!" you point towards the park that was decorated with lights and streamers, even the trees had little ornaments on them. Some people were ice skating on the lake, some were making snowmen with children, and Dogday's interest seemed to be in the snowmen. "Go have fun! I'm going to get a hot chocolate!" Dogday turns his gaze toward you and tilts his head as his ears perk up. You squint your eyes. "I know you said you can, but I'm still on the fence about giving you chocolate." With a bark, he's on his way, plowing through the snow and even playing with the other dogs. He was the most social of the bunch, of course.

Hot chocolate seemed to be calling your name as the smell of the stall made you move on your own. "One hot chocolate, please." You smile at the person running the stall, who seems to be in good spirits. Quickly, they've already started on your hot chocolate. As you wait, you glance back to see where Dogday is, and just like you had assumed, the little guy was having the time of his life. You, however, are worried about how much time he has left in that form. He may be a strong creature from the solar system, but even the strongest have their limits. "Your order!" "Ah, thanks!" you thanked and paid them before you made your way back to the crowd full of laughter and flying snowballs. You didn't want to ruin Dogday's fun, seeing as all he ever sees all day is you. He was your secret, you know how cruel it is to keep him locked away for so long, a little outing never killed anyone.

Which leads your mind back to the frozen lake. You wanted to skate, not like you knew, but you wanted to take the time to enjoy yourself too. Hell, you almost froze off your fingers this morning, you deserve to have this, so you walked towards the frozen lake and examined the sturdiness of the frozen waters. "Skates?" A man held out some ice skates to you before the tip of your foot reached the ice. You thanked him warmly, but before you could grab the skates, he was already on his knees, switching out your shoes. Your lips are thin, and your face is blank. He's just doing his job. You chanted in your head, hoping it would speed things along. For a second, you swear you felt something warm on your neck. You glanced around, even rubbing the back of your neck in hopes of finding whatever the source may be. Far in the park near the other dogs was Dogday, staring. You could feel his burning gaze from where you stood. Even with his death glare that seemed to be not intended for you, you still smile and wave at him.

"I need to make sure you know how to skate, let me help you." Before you could protest, the man had already pulled you onto the frozen lake, squeezing your hand. You mentally gagged at the gesture. "Woah!" You weren't so graceful on the ice, as the balance didn't seem to be your best friend. Your job involves floating, not exactly balance, so the skill was never built upon. But your sudden urge to ice skate made you regret not honing said skill. Before you're able to fall, he pulls you closer to him, one arm around your middle, however, his hand is a bit too tight. "Are you ok there?" you didn't answer, all you could do was stare at him blankly, with a tiny hint of disgust plaguing your face. Before you could give a proper answer, small yaps and growls grow closer until it's behind you. Dogday ungracefully slid his way toward you, still yapping and growling, causing a cute commotion. You bend down to pick him up, it was odd knowing this little creature also doubled as your partner, but whatever gets you both out of the house, right?

"What happened, sunshine?" Dogday glared at the man, who seemed to be slowly drifting away. Dogday had slyly used his powers. The man must've not noticed until you seemed further away. You take that as your cue to leave. "Thanks for the skates!" you shout as you carefully shuffle your way off of the ice and back to the safety of the snowy ground. You squint at Dogday who, in response, yaps and sticks his tongue out to the side.

"I don't like him, not one bit!" Dogday, who was now in his Dog-alien form, huffs, his antennae drooping in dissatisfaction. "No one can take me away from you, trust me. Now, do you want to help me make some cookies?" you seemed to intrigue him. You two have only lived together for a little while, and learning about all the delicious human food made Dogday's antennae perk up, and his mood as well. With a wagging tail, he floats his way toward the kitchen as you are busy setting up everything you need to make the cookies. Dogday looks at the ingredients and tilts his head in confusion.

"This doesn't look like the other foods my human creates?" you chortle and pet one of his ears, making a warmth emit from his body. "You're right, it's not, but* it'll be just as delicious. Here pour the flour-erm pour the white dust into the bowl, please." You still needed to correct yourself with terms he'd understand, though slowly, but surely he was beginning to learn the names of human items. You were impressed at how quickly he seemed to grasp things. He does as he's told, and you praise his work, petting his hand and earning a happy chirp from him.

All the ingredients had been mixed in, only one thing was missing now. "Pour the vanilla extract, please!" pointing towards the bowl with a smile, you wait for him to unscrew the cap, he's been so sure he could do it himself. His hands don't exactly help with unscrewing such a tiny cap, refusing to give in and let you down, he continues fiddling with the cap until finally it opens and spills everywhere. "Oh…" Dogday mutters in disappointment, the vanilla extract had fallen onto his fur, and the floor, but somehow some managed to land in the batter. Your shoulders slumped as you let out a sigh. You were rightfully frustrated at what had just occurred, but you knew better than to lash out over something that could be cleaned later.

"At least some went into the bowl, you did your best, Dogday I'm very proud of you," you affirmed as you motioned for him to bend down and place a kiss on his cheek. "You should wash up, I'll finish up here, then we can watch a movie!" Dogday smiles, "You're not mad, my human?" You shake your head in response before you speak. "Hey, accidents happen, don't worry about it. Go enjoy your shower; it's alright," you say in your most gentle tone, that was all he needed to hear. With that, he was now out of your sight as he made his way to the bathroom. Now you were left with the task to finish up.

An hour or so went by until finally the cookies were done, and movie night was now upon you. Dogday was already cuddled on the couch waiting for you while you placed the now-cooled cookies onto a plate. You pour some milk and carry the plate of cookies and glasses to the living room, placing them onto the coffee table that you had to push away due to Dogday's long legs that, even when crossed, still didn't fit on the couch.

Not a word was needed to be said as he opened his arms, trapping you in his embrace. The smell of freshly baked cookies reminded you of your childhood. Even though that part of your life was gone now, you started a new one with an alien of all creatures—the irony of being an astronaut. As you sink more into Dogday's furry chest, you couldn't help but notice the smell of vanilla still lingered on his. You hummed as the smell filled your senses. "Something wrong?" "You smell nice, is all," you reassured him now, putting your attention towards the movie. You hoped you'd have more days like this with him, who knows how long your secret can be kept? You push away those terrible thoughts, you know no matter what, you'd cherish every moment you had with him.

A/N: I wanted to give back to my wonderful readers who found me through the Dogday hype! it's been a while since I posted something for him so I hope you guys enjoyed! thank you for 160 followers!! that's INSANE!! I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading! :3