#whether we win or not is still up to debate

[note-boom]

Azure Apostle was for the disappointment of the Kunikidazai shippers

Dark Era was for the heartbreak of the platonic trio lovers and Odazai shippers

Fifteen was for the annoyance of the Soukoku shippers

Now we have Untold Origins for the found family lovers

[goldsbitch]

remember that

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. But everyone need assurance that they are still loved sometimes. The first time Lando almost slept on a couch blurb

warning: couple fight, angst

It was bad. This time, it was really fucking bad.

After weeks of snarky comments being swallowed in, the "it's fine" line being burned into Lando's ears almost on a daily basis and growing minutes Y/N had to wait before Lando decided to respond to her texts, shit finally hit the fan.

They hadn't seen each other for two weeks now. Inevitable fight broke out right as he crossed the threshold. Postponed dates and forgotten dinners lined up. They couldn't help themselves and put it all on the table. First it was the fact she didn't smile upon seeing him, then it was a reminder that he promised to bring something from Italy and forgot. It went on and on and on. She sat at the dinning table, while he leaned over at the kitchen counter.

"Lando, sometimes it feels like I'm in a relationship with your assistant and not you! For heaven sake, this week I had to call him, once again, when I could not reach you. Do you know how embarrassing it is?" she half-screamed into her hands.

Lando took a breath so deep an average yoga teacher would be jealous. "How am I suppose to be expected to pick up on a race day. You know that I get super busy and distracted."

"Funny how you never were when we started dating," she murmured bitterly.

He had to turn away, couldn't watch his love giving up on him just because they were not in the honeymoon stage anymore. "Yes, but now I'm winning races! Closer to my dream that I've ever been. It's different now."

"I'm glad I met you back then, because obviously you'd not date me if we met now," she couldn't stop those words that rotted in her coming out.

A beat. Maybe it was time to actually break the rule for once and go to sleep angry, because it was getting out of hand. "You know what, that's probably true and it breaks my heart that once I start doing well, you're suddenly not the supporting girlfriend anymore."

A crushing blow. "Tell me how am I suppose to support you if you don't even answer my phone! We used to talk for hours!

"Maybe understand that I can't!"

"I do! But you can't assume that I'll let you push me away completely!"

Lando thew his hands up in desperation. How could she not see it? "I'm coming here to you whenever I have a slightest chance! And I come what? You constantly dragging me through the mud."

"Oh interesting you mention that. How sad that your assistant had to remind you of my sensitive skin before you having him book me an "apology mud massage" when you cancelled on me few weeks ago," se shot, knowing it would hit the target.

"How do you even know that!" he said, unable to comprehend that he did not even control his paid assistant, not mention his own life anyway.

"Well, I talk a lot to you assistant! And he slips up!" It was a weird friendship between people who both wished they could get a little more info out of Lando.

"That's it. I can't deal with this now," he said, with the intention to sleep on the couch for the first time in their relationship. He didn't even know why he chose that action, walking towards their bedroom and dramatically bringing a pillow and a blanket over to the sofa, but if this is what couples did when the fought, there must have been a reason for it.

It absolutely infuriated her. Sparked up something she hoped she'd never feel. "Oh, sleep tight." she spitted with bitter undertone.

"I will!"

//

They walked around each other in silence, him getting ready to sleep on the couch and her cutting her skincare short this time and spending more time debating whether to close the bedroom door as they usually would or leave it open. Just in case.

He could hear her shifting back and forth. It angered him a little bit, since he was the one playing a cruel joke on his already tired muscles.

Thousand things she wanted to say and only one came to her mind in a form of an actual sentence. There goes nothing. "Do you still feel good about this?"

"What?" he whispered, not expecting her to speak to him again before the next day.

"Nevermind, forget I asked."

"About what!" He hated when she did this. If you didn't catch up at the first moment, she did not give you a second chance.

"Do you still feel good about us, being together?" She cursed herself for asking this. Dangerous questions brought up explosive answers. She wished for a reassurance and a rejection. She snuggled deeper into her blanket and turned around to face the door. As if wishing for him to stand there and coming back to her.

Lando hated her question. In fact, it made him furious again. But it was a peace offering, he had already learned that before. "Even here, lying on the bloody couch, because we're fighting...It's the place I wanna be at."

Anxiety kicked in Y/N. "What, you mean like away from me?"

He laughed lightly. She was always thinking the worst. "No, silly. The exact opposite...We could both be at thousand different places at the moment. But we're not. And for me at least, it's because like---I want to be with you. I hate that we'd drifted apart lately. I'd love to be in bed with you, laughing without a care in the world, like we usually do. But, we can't do that now. And yet, I'd rather be left on the couch if I know you're next door than all alone in my bed." His words hit like small drops of rain after a long draught.

She whispered, choosing her words carefully. "You're my twin flame. You make my soul light up in fire, make me feel like I'm the sun. Do you know what my biggest fear is?"

Lando also tuned into sweeter tone, one that was more familiar from days filled with sunshine. "What, my love?"

"That we're gonna burn out. You and me, ending up like an epic love story. The good ones work because they end in tragedy."

"You're always so poetic," he smiled, proud to think he was her love story.

"There is no other way to describe how you'd changed my life. Flipped it upside down the moment you walked into the same room."

Lando chucked. "Yeah, remember that?"

"How could I not."

"You were not having a good day."

Finally, she spoke loudly again. "So, what? Everything was going to shit and the event we were doing had to be perfect before the 'important people' arrived".

"Such an ego boost to know I was your priority before you even met me," he uttered, happy to push her buttons.

"Oh, and you were so cocky! Just laughing around, like we were some sort of comedy sketch."

"Well, I'm sorry, have you heard yourself when you're upset? The way how your voice goes up seven octaves higher?" he laughed, his breath feeling lighter now.

"Coming from you, that's rich! You were giggling in a tone so high the elderly couldn't hear you!"

"I'm so happy I managed to bag the grumpiest person in the building. And bare in mind there must have been around 500 people there."

"980 if you could in staff as well."

He let out a heavy sigh. "You with your pristine memory."

She paused before responding. "Yes. Wish I didn't have that sometimes."

"Wish I had at least a pinch of that."

Silence fell in both rooms. Heavy breath and wondering eyes. The lack of their touch suddenly being more obvious than before. Playing a contest who will reach out first.

"Lando?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Can you back here, please?" she said, somewhat nervously. Lando took a pause. There was nothing he wished for more. It hurt to fight. But he figured a relationship needed that sometimes. As the poets say, you loose a woman when you forget to cherish her. He liked to think this went both ways. And they both started slacking a bit. He could only affect his own behavior, with the hope that she'd also come to the same understanding.

"I'd like nothing more in the world, my love."

[princesssarisa]

Disney's unconventional "Cinderella" (1950) (long)

Having watched most of the many adaptations of Cinderella, I've come to realize what a unique adaptation Disney's 1950 animated classic really is. Unlike Snow White, which only had a few stage and screen adaptations before Disney produced its groundbreaking film, Cinderella had already been adapted many times before Disney's turn came, and Disney's version makes a surprising number of departures from the standard Cinderella "formula." It was definitely a fresh, creative Cinderella when it made its debut, and it arguably still is. Yet because it's become so familiar in pop culture, and today so often serves as our childhood introduction to the tale, it's easy to overlook its inventive storytelling choices. The 2015 live action remake uses several classic Cinderella adaptation tropes that the original 1950 film actually subverts!

Here's a list of the often-overlooked ways in which Disney's Cinderella stands out from earlier adaptations, and from many later ones too.

Cinderella herself. Disney's Cinderella isn't a traditional Cinderella in personality. The "traditional" portrayal of Cinderella, seen in virtually every adaptation before Disney's and several afterwards too, is the portrayal I call "The Waif": a very young, fragile, melancholy girl, dressed in pathetic rags and smudged with ashes, who makes the audience want to rescue her and who wins the Prince's heart with her wide-eyed innocence and artless charm. But whether chiefly to set her apart from earlier screen Cinderellas or from Disney's earlier delicate ingenue Snow White, Disney's Cinderella is none of those things. She comes across as older, or at least more sophisticated. Nor is she waif-like, but instead combines down-to-earth warmth with ladylike dignity, even at her lowliest. She doesn't sit in the ashes ("Cinderella" is her real name in this version), and her servants' dress is humble yet clean and only slightly tattered. She's gentle and kind, yes, but also intelligent, practical, playful, sometimes sarcastic, philosophical, optimistic, genuinely cheerful when she's with her animal friends, and yet angrier and stronger-willed than virtually all earlier Cinderellas. She doesn't beg to go to the ball, but asserts her right to go, and then sets to work fixing up an old dress of her mother's for herself. Only her stepfamily's sabotage, first by keeping her too busy to finish the dress, and then by destroying it after the mice and birds finish it for her, prevents her from taking herself to the ball without a Fairy Godmother. To this day, she stands out as a complex, unique Cinderella, which pop culture too often forgets.

Lady Tremaine. Some critics today complain that Disney makes Cinderella's stepmother a total monster instead of giving her "nuance" and call her portrayal "sexist." But can't we agree that her sheer cruelty enhances the film's dramatic power? And compared to earlier portrayals of Cinderella's Stepmother, it definitely makes her stand out. In most pre-Disney Cinderellas and many after, the Stepmother is a pompous, vain comic antagonist. Once again, Disney was innovative by portraying Lady Tremaine as a dignified, manipulative, and truly sinister villain, who takes quietly sadistic pleasure in abusing Cinderella and will stop at nothing to prevent her from going to the ball or marrying the Prince. As far as I know, she's also the first Stepmother to realize before the slipper-fitting that Cinderella was the lady at the ball and to take action to prevent her from being found. That's a commonplace plot device in more recent adaptations, but in 1950 it was a creative twist!

The mice and other animals. Viewers debate whether Cinderella's mouse friends, Jaq, Gus, et al, and their misadventures evading Lucifer the Cat are a welcome addition or take away too much screen time from Cinderella herself. But there's no denying that the presence of the mice and birds is an inventive storytelling choice, which makes Disney's Cinderella stand out! And I can provide a long list of reasons why they're more than just "filler." (1) They add liveliness, humor, and appeal for younger children. (2) They gave the animators an outlet for the type of character animation they did best, rather than binding them to the harder work of animating realistic humans. (3) They give Cinderella someone to talk to besides her stepfamily. (4) They give her a way to demonstrate her kindness. (5) The struggles of the mice with Lucifer parallel Cinderella's abuse by her stepfamily, and Cinderella's undying optimism not only keeps her from despair, but inspires them too. (6) They arguably provide a further reason why Cinderella stays with her stepfamily – not only does she have nowhere to go, but an entire community of small sentient creatures relies on her for food and protection. (7) They reward Cinderella for her kindness. From the start, her friendship with the mice and birds makes her life easier to bear, both by easing her loneliness and because they do helpful deeds for her, like mending and cleaning her clothes. They fix up her mother's dress for her to wear to the ball – only the stepfamily's last-minute cruelty requires the Fairy Godmother to step in. And in the end, they're directly responsible for Cinderella's happy ending by freeing her from her locked room. They do all these things because Cinderella has protected them, fed them, made them clothes, and been their friend. Therefore, Cinderella's good fortune never feels "just handed" to her: her kindness directly earns it.

The Fairy Godmother. It's always varied between illustrators whether Cinderella's Fairy Godmother is portrayed as a grandmotherly old woman or as youthful, regal, and beautiful, but screen and stage adaptations before the Disney version virtually always took the "youthful, regal, beautiful" approach. That is, when they didn't change her into a wise, fatherly male magician-advisor, as in several opera adaptations! At any rate, seriousness and dignity were the norm for this character in most adaptations from the 19th century through the 1940s. Making her a sweet, comforting, grandmotherly figure, with a comically and adorably absent mind, was another of Disney's fresh choices.

Cinderella's entrance at the ball. We all know the classic image of Cinderella's entrance from other adaptations. Cinderella appears at the top of the grand staircase that leads down to the ballroom, and a hush falls over the assembly, as not only the Prince, but all the guests and members of the court are amazed by the unknown lady's beauty and magnificent dress. Even in versions without a staircase, Cinderella captivates the room the moment she enters. Adaptations both before and after Disney's, including Disney's own 2015 live action remake, play her entrance this way. But the 1950 animated classic subverts it! The grand staircase leads up to the ballroom, not down to it, and Cinderella's entrance isn't a triumph at first, but a vulnerable moment as she makes her way up the stairs alone, dwarfed by the splendor around her. Then, when she reaches the ballroom, no one notices her at first, because the other ladies are being presented to the Prince and all eyes are on him. But then the Prince notices her in the shadowy background as she quietly marvels at her surroundings, and leaves his post to approach her and invite her to dance. Only then does the rest of the assembly notice her, because she's the one the Prince has singled out. It's more understated and it feels more realistic than the traditional entrance, as well as more clearly symbolic of Cinderella's venturing above her station, then both literally and figuratively being led out of the shadows by the Prince's unexpected attention.

The slipper-fitting plan. Over the years, it's been fairly popular to mock the idea of using the glass slipper to find the Prince's love, as if there were no chance it would fit anyone else. Disney's version is creative by having the slipper-fitting search be the comical, hot-blooded King's idea, not the Prince's, and making it clear that it's not, nor is it meant to be, a foolproof plan to find Cinderella. The Duke points out that the slipper could fit any number of girls, but the King doesn't care if they find the right girl or not: he just wants to hold his son to his pledge to marry "the girl who fits this slipper" and force him to marry the first one who fits it. This also means that Disney doesn't do what most adaptations do and have the Prince conduct the search himself, but follows the original Perrault tale by having a gentleman, in this case the Grand Duke, do it instead. This prevents audiences from mocking the Prince for relying on the slipper instead of knowing his beloved's face.

Cinderella breaking free and asking to try on the slipper. Even though in Perrault's original tale, Cinderella asks to try on the slipper, she almost never does in adaptations. In most versions other than Disney's, including Disney's own 2015 remake, Cinderella's presence in the house (and/or the fact that she has the other slipper) is either discovered by accident or revealed by Cinderella's allies, not by Cinderella's own initiative. In some versions, she even tries to hide from the Prince and/or the search party, either out of fear of her stepfamily or because she feels unworthy of the Prince in her rags. But not Disney's animated Cinderella! First of all, she has an assertive emotional breakthrough when she calls on her dog Bruno to chase Lucifer away and free Gus to slip her the key to her locked room. Earlier on, she urges Bruno to try to get along with Lucifer, lest the stepfamily not allow him to sleep in the house – it's clear that Bruno represents her own rebellious side, and in that scene she's really talking about herself, revealing that she tolerates her stepfamily's abuse so she won't lose her own "nice warm bed" and be homeless. But in the climactic scene, when she finally sees a way out, she gives up playing nice and seizes her chance. First she unleashes Bruno on Lucifer, and then she runs downstairs and directly asks to try on the slipper, not caring how her stepfamily will react, or what the Grand Duke will think of her shabby dress, or whether the audience will accuse her of gold-digging or not. This isn't a common breakthrough in other Cinderella adaptations, but it fits perfectly (like a glass slipper, you might say) with the Disney Cinderella's stronger-willed and more self-assured characterization.

"I have the other slipper." We can probably all safely assume that when audiences first saw Disney's Cinderella in 1950, they all expected Cinderella to try on the glass slipper she lost, with her identity revealed by its perfect fit. They never would have expected Lady Tremaine to trip the footman and break the glass slipper... only for Cinderella to calmly reveal that she has the other one. It's yet another clever and unexpected twist, not seen in any other version. Not even Disney's own 2015 remake.

Disney's Cinderella deserves far more credit than it gets for being unique among the myriad versions of the tale, especially compared to the versions that came before it.

[adrienneleclerc]

hiii! I was wondering if you could please do a fic where Charles is dating a tall reader kinda like Tom and Zendaya's relationship

Hi! So Tom and Zendaya have a two inch difference, I can definitely make Charles date like a 6’1 reader, I was debating whether or not to make her a model so she can take advantage of her height. So I made her model for the same agency as Kika and she met Charles through Kika.

Model Behavior

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Tall! Reader

Summary: Charles is obsessed with his girlfriend

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: i Don’t really follow “Tomdaya” like that But from what i see on TikTok, Tom is Zendaya’s biggest fan so let’s see how this turns out. Also sorry for the late response! I have not been sleeping well lately, let me tell you. Don’t know if this is what you wanted…

Kika and Y/N were doing a photo shoot for the Miss Dior perfume, they were in hair and makeup.

“Oh just FYI, my boyfriend and his friends are coming on the shoot.” Kika said as the makeup artist was doing her eyebrows.

“Oh that’s cool, I finally get to meet your F1 boyfriend. Why are they coming over though?” Y/N asked.

“Pierre said that he doesn’t have a race this weekend so he is free for today and he invited Charles with him because they’re doing something later.” Kika responded after checking her texts.

“Cool, cool, how’s my blowout looking, Dana?” Y/N asked her hairstylist

“It’s looking good, mama.” Dana said.

“You sure?” Y/N asked. (Personally, as someone with 2C/3A curls, I get paranoid when it comes to blowouts. Not to mention pin straight hair, I think it looks awful on me)

“Yes I’m sure." Dana replied, putting rollers in Y/N's hair to have that voluminous 90s blowout look. Kika and Y/N were sipping their smoothies that they got earlier when Kika's eyes were covered.

"Guess who." The frenchman said. Kika took his hands off her eyes and turned her head.

"Pierre, querido, hi!" Kika got up from her chair to hug him. When he separated from him, she saw Charles. "Charles, can't believe you're here." She hugged him as well. "Oh, this is my friend and coworker, Y/N." Kika introduced Y/N to the F1 drivers and Y/N got up from her chair.

"It is nice to meet you guys." Y/N said, hugging the boys as well. Charles was in awe of Y/N, not because she was taller than him, but because she was so beautiful, so ethereal, basically a walking angel. He wouldn't be surprised if she was a Victoria's Secret Angel as well.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Pierre, this is my friend Charles." Pierre said, patting Charles on the back, he just waved.

“Oh Charles, congratulations on your home race win, that must have been exciting, right?” Y/N asked.

“You Watch Formula 1?” Charles asked, finally getting the nerve to speak.

“Oh yeah, big Ferrari fan too.” Y/N commented and Charles smiled.

“Hey, we should all go out to eat when the shoot is done.” Kika suggested, looking between charles and Y/N.

“Sounds great.” Charles said.

“But we’re supposed to…” Pierre was interrupted by Kika dragging him away. “What.”

“Querido, It’s obvious Charles likes Y/N and she likes him too, let’s just do a little double date and see if Charles asks her out himself.” Kika explained to her boyfriend.

“Okay fine, but you have to pay me back for paintball.” Pierre said and Kika rolled her eyes.

“Yeah i know, bebé.” Kika said and she walked back to Charles and Y/N, who were still talking to each other. Kika was going to say something when Dana came back.

“Y/N, time to take those rollers out. Kika, you’re needed on set.” Dana said, taking out Y/N’s rollers and brushing out the Dyson curls.

“Oh yeah, I’ll talk to you later.” Kika said to Y/N. They took some pictures with Kika, then pictures with Y/N, and then there were some, photos taken with Kika and Y/N together. The shoot took about 2 hours and Charles was just watching in awe, seeing how Y/N posed and how the photos turned out in the monitor, she truly was beautiful.

“That’s a wrap everyone! Kika, Y/N, good work girls, I’ll see you on the runway.” The guy in charge said. Kika and Y/N thanked the man and changed back to their usual clothes before leaving with Pierre and Charles.

The 4 of them went out to eat and they had a great time. At the end of the night, Charles managed to ask Y/N out on a proper date and she said yes. They have been dating for a few months and Charles couldn’t be a better boyfriend.

Charles took videos of Y/N walking the runway, behind the scenes photos of Y/N getting ready, posted them to his instagram grid and story. He is so proud of her, he was standing up whenever Y/N walked out, clapping, cheering, being Y/N’s biggest fan.

“You were spectacular out there, mon coeur.” Charles said, getting on his tiptoes to kiss her cheek. Y/N was wearing heels so now she was 5 inches taller than him.

“Thank you, baby.” Y/N said. When they were walking outside the venue, paparazzi started taking photos of them. They made it to his car and Y/N saw Charles’s instagram. “Aww, thank you, Charles, you’re the best.” Y/N kisses him before he started the car. They made it to Charles apartment and Y/N was getting ready for bed.

“You are so beautiful, Mon coeur.” Charles said, looking at Y/N removing her runway makeup.

“You don’t have to keep saying that, you know.” Y/N said.

“But it’s true. I am so lucky to have you, my whole following thinks so too.” Charles said before kissing her. “You coming to the Grand Prix next weekend?”

“Yep! I Don’t have any photo shoots to do that weekend so I’m going to support you and Carlos.” Y/N said.

“Perfect, I love you.” Charles said, kissing her again.

“I love you too, babe. Goodnight.” Y/N said, they got into bed and cuddled until they slept.

Liked by francisca.cgomes and 1,378,993 others

charles_leclerc Milan Fashion Week (spring-summer 2025) with yourusername, she was amazing as always, so proud of my beautiful girlfriend, she’ll be on billboards in no time.

User27 I thought it was an Y/N fan account at first, but it was just Charles simping for his girlfriend 😂

User 32 Y/N is so beautiful 😍 how did Charles bag a baddie like her

charles_Leclerc guess im just lucky

User 23 imagine having your boyfriend dedicating a post to you. They are such an adorable couple

User 45 Y/N dedicates posts to him too whenever she’s at a Grand Prix, they are so perfect for each other

User 61 girl, they’ve been dating for 3 months, relax

User 45 but they’re so cute 🥰

The End

Hope y’all liked it! Also, just a little experiment, if you follow me, comment why, thank you!

[wilwheaton]

So we have two issues we need to examine here. First, the astonishingly offensive remarks Trump made Thursday night about Jews. His Jewish support should start sinking like a stone. But there’s one Jew who clearly loves him, and other events this week have to make us wonder whether Bibi Netanyahu is trying to start a war with Lebanon and maybe Iran to raise gas prices and screw up the economy (right after Jerome Powell made a move to ensure that doesn’t happen) to help Trump win, but that’s another column, if I get around to it. The second issue is one that must remain front and center in the American political media: Trump is really losing his marbles now. Was that statement about the crowd going nuts for him at the debate a normal Trump lie? Or was it a fantasy of which he has convinced himself? If we hooked him up to a polygraph and he repeated that line, would his pulse quicken? Would he change his speech patterns, avert his eyes, cover his mouth? I doubt it. He wouldn’t even think he was lying. The mainstream media still treats comments like this with diffidence: “Oh, that’s Trump.” No. These are defining comments. They tell us about his mental fitness. They matter. They should be covered. I can’t find evidence that The New York Times or The Washington Post covered those remarks. This sanewashing must stop. Voters need to be informed when Trump makes statements with a tenuous connection to reality at best. He’s disqualifying himself from the presidency every day that he opens his mouth, but much of the mainstream media is ignoring the words coming out.

Donald “Blame the Jews” Trump Is Truly Losing His Sh*t Now

[verycoolusername1]

Maybe It Was Fate

Summary: During the 'hughesbowl' as fans may call it, you are caught in a trance that is Quinn Hughes... unaware that he is your coworkers' oldest brother.

Quinn Hughes x photographer!reader

A/N: I was debating whether to make this nico or quinn as the love interest and Quinn won in the end(nico does have a cameo however)- This was also supposed to be posted the day of the hughesbowl, but stuff came up so here it is now!!

AND I'M CHANGING THE SCORE IN THIS BECAUSE WHATEVER HAPPENED ON OCTOBER 30TH, 2024 DID NOT HAPPEN WHATSOEVER

It's a shock to you that you work with professional athletes, considering you hated sports as a kid. Even now, you still don't know what's going on in hockey. With the players too fast around you, it's hard to keep your eye on one player.

It was the 3rd period, the score being 5-3, the Canucks slowly but surely catching up.

You held your camera in hand, watching the big screen to keep focus... that was until someone catched your eye. You couldn't see his last name, only his face and man was he pretty.

He had green eyes flickered like sunlight within the leaves as he looked up. You could run your hand through his brown locks for days if given the chance.

You shook your head, he was most likely a player on and off the ice. You knew that without a doubt, knowing all about Jack's relationship with women(due to being best friends) but you couldn't help but wonder, would it be different with him?

The fans becoming louder as the game came to a close, the devils capturing the win. You snapped your camera a couple of times towards the devils and secretly took more of the mystery man.

You turned your camera off and it held loosely around your neck as you waited outside the locker room, waiting for Jack to take you home.

You had your back towards the door as you flickered through the photos that you took, your cheeks heating up when you saw the man again. He has a 43 just like Luke but you didn't think anything of it, players share the same numbers all the time. It was just a mere coincidence, right?

"You got all my good sides right?" Jack asked, you quickly turned the camera off.

"Jesus Jack, warn me next time gosh." You hit him on the shoulder.

He only shrugged in response. "Can't really text in the locker room."

You rolled your eyes. "You're actually an idiot."

"Only act like it to make you look smart." He muttered under his breath.

"And what are you two arguing about now?" Luke approached the two of you.

"They called me an idiot!" Jack exclaimed.

"They must have been reasonable to do so." Nico chuckled as he walked past you three. "Don't kill eachother please!"

"Make no promises cap!" You snapped a photo as he looked back at you with a smile.

"Oh Y/N! We want you to meet someone." Luke began to drag your arm in the other direction.

"And before you groan out a half assed reply, I think you'll really like him." Jack added.

You were now beginning to regret telling Jack that you wished you could put yourself out there again considering you haven't been on a date in two months due to your conflicting schedule.

"Do you two know him or-" You looked between the two of them.

"Oh yeah we do." Jack answered. "Very well."

"What does that even mean?" You narrowed your eyes at him, Jack chuckles in reply.

"Trust me, you'll like him." Luke eased your worries.

You finally stopped and Luke dropped your hand as you realized.

"He plays for the canucks? They just lost tonight. I'm sure the last thing he would want to do is go on a date with someone that works for the devils." You explained.

"Well he likes us and we play for the devils sooooooooo you'll brighten up his mood. Ha get it cause you're a photographer and the camera flashes." Jack stopped explaining the joke when he was met with your stern face.

Luke cleared his throat. "There he is now."

You snapped your eyes to the door and realized that was the man that took your breath away moments before just as he is doing now.

"Y/N this is Quinn, our brother. Quinn this is Y/N, the person we've been telling you about." Jack introduced the two of you.

"Brother? He's your brother?!? You guys never told me you had a brother!" You made a mental note to swear at Jack later, with no audience.

"Oops?" Luke giggled. "See Quinn, look they're a photographer. Show them some photos you took tonight." He encouraged.

You quickly shook your head. "No I couldn't possibly do that, I-I mean I still have to edit them and wait..." You looked down to your neck strap and saw that your camera was gone and in Jack's hands.

All three hughes brothers looking at the photos.

"Wait no!" You exclaimed but it was already too late you assumed, Jack was looking at you with a knowing look while Luke and Quinn were shocked.

"How come he gets all his good angles and I don't even one photo?" Luke asked you, in a mocking tone.

"I was distracted," You looked away, embarrassed.

"Yeah because you were too busy looking at our brother." Jack remarked, jokingly.

You rolled your eyes. "I didn't know he was your guys brother."

"I think these look nice, thank you." Quinn finally spoke, looking you in the eyes.

"Oh um you welcome. It's nothing really, it's just kind of my job." You shrugged.

"Then you most definitely picked the right career choice." He smiled softly at you.

Jack and Luke were nowhere to be seen, seemly left the two of you alone for a while.

Your face flushed at his words, he held the camera in his hands handing it out for you.

"You're gonna need this to edit all those photos of me." He joked.

"And I'm gonna need your number to send you all those photos." You held the camera and its neck strap, putting it in your bag.

"Well that was bold, Y/N." He chuckled not nonetheless gave you his phone so you can type out your number, he sent you a quick text.

"It was nice meeting you Quinn, it's getting late. I would head home but Jack seemed to have disappeared." You looked around.

"I can take you home." He offered. "He obviously went to the bar with the team."

You looked up at him and smiled. "I would like that."

[cheriladycl01]

No because that hurt me! Lando Norris x Girlfriend! Reader Part 2

Plot: Lando goes one step too far ...

As you'd promised you'd gone straight back to London, you thrown yourself into your work. You spent the days on the construction sight for the new house you were flipping, overseeing the progress. You spent the evenings in the studio working on more plans for the interior of the house.

But you did miss him, of course you missed him.

He was your person ...

Your guy...

The love of your life.

In the time that you'd come home however, videos had surfaced, many videos had surfaced...

The first was of you and Lando in the club, someone from a table across from the one your friends had been sat in showed how Lando had acted towards you and how his friends had tried to back you up. The next was of you running up to Alex, begging for a lift.

Afterwards, videos were leaked of the rest of Lando's night where he celebrated his win, by dancing with his friends and random girls that were being pulled into the big group. Nothing scandalous but enough to upset the fans who really liked you.

Later on, after the first few videos came out a video came out of Max Fewtrell and him arguing before him and Pietra left. Max actually pushed him a little and lots of hand gestures were flying round, but Lando looked just as angry as Max did.

Normally when you were in London, people knew they'd get content on your Instagram stories of you doing what you do best. People had suggested you to start a YouTube because your live's and reels were so funny that they'd definitely spend the time watching.

But you'd been dark since the argument with Lando and people were getting worried including Lando. So when you posted a titkok with your team, in the trend that AstonMartin did where the camera is up high above and you all do funny things, the media went crazy.

You then posted a video on instagram talking about the new house and the progress that was coming on.

"Hey guys! Y/N here! Just wanted to show you how the latest project is coming on. We've torn down the living room and put all new flooring in, which actually has built in underfloor heating which i think here in the UK is a real money move. We're going to hook it all up to a central network from the hallway as you walk in, which we finally finished the painting for that last week" you pan showing the round the areas you'd been talking about.

You showed you and one of the girls tearing down the kitchen.

Captioned 'Best Part of the Job, Free Rage Room', which is how you'd always referred to the demolition phase of house flipping. People on twitter of course took it out of context and rumors started flying that you and Lando had in fact called it splits, even one of those WAG update pages 'confirming' the breakup from close sources.

You'd found it laughable really, but you knew it would be hurting Lando, and no matter how much he hurt you ... you weren't a bitter person. You didn't want him hurting as well.

You were sat in your studio at your desk, sketching for the garden. The pen was currently in your mouth, sat back debating whether you should reach out to Lando or wait for him to come to you.

It had been three weeks at this point with no communication. You'd spoken to Lando's family, who had talked with you about everything that had happened. Cisca and Adam had apologized for their sons behavior.

As you were about to pick up your phone, caving in to messaging Lando first when you swore you wouldn't on knock on your wooden studio door sounds.

You frown, wondering who on earth would be coming to you at this time of the night. You weren't even open, office hours were long over. It was about 11pm, so your clients knew you weren't taking calls even though you were still here and working with a light on.

You open the door, bolt and latch on for added protection.

"Lando?" you ask seeing the curly haired boy, hoodie up and his eyes looking more tired than you'd ever seen them.

"You want to open up and let me in baby?" he asks softly, a slight crack to his voice.

"I was just about to call you" you admit, unlatching the door so it swings open fully. He stops just under the arch of the door observing you. It was like he was having a small inward debate with himself.

"Gonna cave coz you miss me?" he jokes, testing the waters. He didn't know how you were now that you'd have some time apart. He was hopeful that he could talk to you again and fix what had happened.

"Honestly yeah. I hate you and how much of a hold you have on me" you admit, leaning back into your chair directing him to the sofa.

"I came here, to say I'm sorry and that I was horrible to you. And I know it's not excuse but I want to explain what happened. In full... I think you deserve more than an explanation... but I think you need one for if we are ever going to go back to what we were" he sighs. He leans forward and takes your hand into his.

He explains how, after the race people told him you'd said you were leaving the race track. So he went to the hotel to find you, only for you not to be there, Max came round and said you were probably getting ready with the girls as P had told him you were all gonna meet them there.

"I didn't think this was too out of the ordinary for you, your especially close with P and Lily, and it wouldn't shock me if Kelly and Kika would drag you all into a girl pre-club party in their hotel room..." he laughs knowing that normally you and P would do each other's makeup when Max and her came to race weekends. Or you and Lily would switch outfit's loving to venture into each other's styles.

When he got to the club and no-one had seen you, and Pierre and Charles had come up to him with celebratory shots, he hadn't declined.

"The shots were the start of what slowly just went downhill, I don't think i ever want to drink that much again, I was so happy at the start" he laughs flushing red and the thought of him knocking back shots, which was rare considering he didn't like to drink. He wouldn't be doing it anytime soon that was for sure.

"You deserved to celebrate though baby, don't make it seem like you shouldn't have had a fun night" you admit, both of you were being open and mature adults right now. You were so glad you'd both spent some time apart to think before you fought more, now you were both talking and listening to each other and you couldn't help but think it was beautiful and intimate.

After the three hour mark he was fed up that you hadn't bothered to show up at such an important night for him. Talking to Charles and Pierre who were also drunk, weren't the best influences on suggesting places you could be. All of them being ones his drunk mind could picture vividly, his sober mind would have known his girl would never dream of doing that to him.

"Charles said some things and I know sober me would have known you wouldn't do that, but i was already angry thinking you'd just ditched me. I shouldn't have drunk as much and I know its no excuse... but" he starts and you nod.

"The main thing is you know how you would have acted. Yes you upset me, yes your hurt me because you said some horrible things to me..."

"Yeah, I've heard the video and It wasn't my intention to embarrass you the way I did, especially in front of our friends. I'm so so sorry!" he admits.

The other group, had tried to convince him that maybe you'd just got held up and thats where Oscar, Lily, Max and P had all messaged you.

"Baby, I'm so so sorry that i wasn't there for you after what happened!" he says tears in his eyes. This would forever be one of his biggest regrets in life, not being there for you when you needed him.

"How did you find out?" you gulp, not really wanting to think about what could have happened that night if it wasn't for the Mclaren Mechanics.

"Well, after having a scolding from Oscar, and Max, and Alex, and Zac... the mechanics also threatened to botch my pit stops. So i listened to what they did for you"

"Mmmm it was scary. All i wanted was you" you nod, rubbing a thumb across his hand.

"I'm so so sorry, I promised you that i'd protect you always. And I've failed!" he says with a little snivel and tears brimming his eyes.

"You've not failed, you just made a mistake, there's been some miscommunication and Charles and Pierre didn't help with their boyish meddling but ... we'll get there" you smile before pulling closer to him and nuzzling into his neck breathing in his sent.

"Do you think you'll ever forgive me?" he asks softly pulling you back so he can fully look at you.

"I already have, darling" you smile.

"What did i ever do to deserve you, I don't think i do" he smiles.

"Hmmmm, well I think the historians will argue one day its me who didn't deserve you" you sigh, brushing some of his hair back.

"I doubt that" he scoffs, knowing that when you first started dating, even with your lack of status people still thought you were too kind, too sweet and too innocent for someone as jokey and brash as Lando was seen to be.

"I've never had anyone treat me the way you do, I'm so so in love with you. And I don't ever want the feelings I have when i think of you and see you to stop. I feel like i can do anything when i have you by my side. Why do you think the first person i seeked out was you?" you offer, softly leaning in and placing a kiss on the corner of his lips.

You guys, talked more that night. About how you actually had fun helping the Mclaren boys pack up, regardless if you thought Lando had forgotten about you.

A week later and the media had picked up on the sighting the paps had got of both of you. Some fans had seen you both at a restaurant and make posts on it.

The comments bashed you either way, being between saying how silly you were for taking him back or the others saying they were upset you were back. It got to the point where you had to release a statement saying that you and Lando, are grown adults who can talk through the miscommunication and issues you'd experienced and were better for it now.

"I love you so much, and I'm never ever ever acting up like that again" he says as you help him do up his fire suit for the race you were currently at with him.

"I love you too, now go out and get another win for me baby so we can celebrate properly this time" you smile, kissing him before Jon comes forward asking for Lando's presence in the front of the garage.

A/N: I hope you guys think this did the first part justice as so many people requested a Part 2, so I'm really scared that this hasn't done it justice! If you want a rewrite with something better... something longer where its more of a series. Or where it goes the opposite way and it takes her longer to forgive him let me know. I just thought that Y/N and Lando in this one specifically would be the type to maturely talk about things!

Taglist:

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People requesting for just this part...

@christianpulisic10 @ilovechickenwings @basicallyric @runs-with-sciss0rs @dreamerrosie @eviethetheatrefreak @luv4kani @randomgirlnumber-13 @simpingcorner @c3ndr1n3 @bibissparkles @littlehoneyfreak @80sloverry @xjval @de1u1ugyal @meadhbhcavanagh @solphin @devotedleycrookeddonut @gg-trini @urfavnoirette @manuosorioh @angelbunny222 @randaaz @nvi111 @allabouthappiness @loloekie @error1190 @itsprashimusic @goldenharrysworld @glitterf1

[wttcsms]

you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody, atsumu miya

pairing atsumu miya x reader word count 1.4k synopsis love for you is holding him; love for him is allowing himself to be held. content contains hurt/comfort, intimacy, atsumu-centric, insecurities, unconditional love, showering together but make it sfw

The stinging spray of scalding hot water from the showerhead should be enough to get him to leave, but he barely registers the pain, can’t seem to bring himself to feel the heat, can’t seem to bring himself to feel anything.

No — that’s not entirely true. He feels one thing.

Devastated. 

Everyone knows Atsumu Miya likes to talk shit on and off the court. It’s his thing, his trademark, his brand. Lots of athletes like to talk big about how they’re going to win; who the hell is going to support a guy who walks onto the court with a well, it’ll be alright if I lose. 

He’s staring down at the tiles of the shower, can somewhat register the persistent barrage of water spraying onto his back as he has one hand splayed on the wall, shoulders slumped, water dripping from his hair and running into his vision, making everything blurry. 

Don’t blink, he tries to demand of himself, but the issue is, we can’t always control our bodies. He has to shut his eyes, just for a brief second, and in that second, it all comes back to him.

The opposing team at set point. His team depending on him to serve. One point left. Only one chance. He can feel the stadium’s crowd holding their breath, can feel the lack of air in the atmosphere, can hear how loudly the blood is rushing to his head. Dizzy. Dazed. He doesn’t give into pressure, not anymore, not ever. Doesn’t feel performance anxiety, knows better than to try to attempt something flashy just for the glory of a good story to tell. 

Give ‘em a serve they don’t have a chance of receiving, he demands of himself. 

The final seconds of the match all come to him like stills from a movie, each frame another devastating blow to his ego, his self-worth, his very being. The ball is in the air, he’s bending his knees to prepare for the jump, his hand making contact with the ball. Something’s off, he can feel it upon first contact, but it’s too late to save, too late for him to change anything.

The ball lands.

On his side of the net.

He’s frozen in place as he stares ahead. He can tell the other team is cheering, slapping each other on their backs, and he can hear the blow of a whistle, the celebration from the crowd. But all he sees is the ball. All he sees is his failure.

Atsumu has spent a good portion of his volleyball career knowing that he plays the game better than most. It’s why he feels so comfortable talking about the lack of skills other players display. It’s why he always has something to say at practice, on the court, during a post-game interview. 

And he knows he makes mistakes. He knows that he’s only human. But a bad serve in the middle of a game isn’t as crushing as knowing that he is the sole reason as to why the Black Jackals’ season is going to be ending early. 

Where did he go wrong? He did everything perfectly, did everything the way he usually does. Why couldn’t he perform? Why did he let his team down? Why—

“Atsumu?” 

He doesn’t look up, and all you can see is the sad shape of his outline from the foggy glass door of the shower. You know that Atsumu probably wants nothing more than to be alone right now, but you can’t help but worry when fifteen minutes have gone by, and you could still hear the shower running. That’s your first sign that something is wrong.

Atsumu is a notoriously quick showerer, to an almost concerning degree. When you first started living together, you debated planning elaborate tricks to see whether or not he was even using soap. (Which, in hindsight, was just flatout silly; he walks out the shower smelling overwhelming of his Axe Men’s 3-in-1 and Old Spice deodorant.) 

No — the first sign that something is wrong would be his uncharacteristic silence on the trip back home. He hadn’t responded to your it’s okay, baby, you’ll get ‘em next season. Instead, he just looked out the window, the devastated expression on his face silencing you as well. Even when he lost to Kageyama, he had been disappointed, upset, but still talking big about how he was going to crush the Adlers next time around. He had then made a comment about Tobio’s stupid haircut, and that’s when you told him if he doesn’t have anything nice to say, he shouldn’t say anything at all.

Now, you’d give anything to have him say something. Something for you to work with.  

“Atsumu?” You call out for him again, worried when you don’t see his figure moving. 

Pathetic. Atsumu thinks that’s what he is. A loser, a fucking scrub, a failure. Even if his teammates won’t admit it, the media will. And what then? Will you think that about him too? It’d be the truth, wouldn’t it? Isn’t that why you’re in the bathroom now? To pity him? 

He’s too busy tearing himself down to react to the distinct sound of you sliding back the glass door of the shower so you can enter it. There’s a brief burst of the cool air of the bathroom hitting his exposed body, but it evaporates the moment you shut the door. 

“Oh, ‘Tsumu.” You whisper it, and he wants to tell you that he’s not fucking fragile. That he’s not going to shatter into a million pieces if you just raise your voice, if you tell him how you really feel about him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t turn around to face you. He doesn’t want to. He can’t.

His skin is red from the heat of the water, his back staring at you angrily, hurt. The skin’s going to need some time to heal, and you turn the faucet, lowering the temperature of the water. 

“Turn around, honey. Please?” You’ve never seen Atsumu so upset before, so quiet. You wait several minutes for him to actually do as you request, and you think it’s only because he wants a way to get rid of you sooner. 

You don’t say anything to him as you reach for his shampoo, letting it lather in your hands before you give him a pleading look, one that has him leaning down so you can reach his hair. It feels nice, he thinks, the way you’re shampooing his hair. You’re gentle with your movements, and it almost relaxes him. 

You use your body wash on him. Massage the suds into his skin, but you’re mindful of the amount of pressure you apply. You know which areas of his skin is more sensitive from its exposure to the hot water, and you are careful with the spots of his body that he had chosen to be negligent with. 

“Am I so fuckin’ worthless that you have to do somethin’ as simple as bathing me?” He’s not angry at you. He might spit out the words — words that come out sounding all raw and scratchy, like they had to personally claw themselves from his throat — but the anger is not directed at you. It’s at himself. 

“Look at me.” 

His eyes are glossy, wet, shiny, and you know it’s not because of the shower. You’ve never seen Atsumu cry before, and you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. So, you do what feels right. You whisper his name softly, tenderly, and it’s this tenderness, your unwavering softness, your unconditional love, that breaks him. That makes him feel safe enough to break. That makes him think of the possibility that you’ll take these jagged pieces of him and piece them back together for him, with him. 

He’s so much bigger than you. You tell him all the time that he’s larger than life, and he thinks about that comment as he lets himself sink into your open arms, as he lets himself be held. He has never felt smaller in his life, and in your embrace, he buries his face into your shoulder, letting his warm tears mix in with the water already on your body.

“I don’t know how you can still look at me.” He mutters, and every word is spoken onto your skin, tiny blades striking you. 

Atsumu isn’t sure what he wants to hear, isn’t even certain that there’s anything that could be said to ease his devastation, but melts into you even more so when you tell him,

“Atsumu, I thought you already knew that nothing can change the way I look at you.”

[hacvek]

🌑 nightmeows 🔁 dogfandomfandom Follow

clan-showdown-official-deactivated-80-0

Welcome to the Official Clan Showdown, an official tournament to decide the best clan of all! I'll be letting this run for a quarter-moon so hopefully cats from all corners of the forest can vote!

So let's settle this once and for all, through democracy rather than violence

which clan is the best?

ThunderClan ❚❚ 6.3%

WindClan ❚❚❚❚ 11.2%

RiverClan ❚❚❚❚❚❚❚❚❚❚❚❚ 33.6%

ShadowClan ❚❚❚❚❚❚❚❚ 20.3%

I'm a kittypet that just wants to press a button ❚❚❚❚❚❚❚❚❚❚ 28.6%

3384 votes · Poll ends in 1 day 890 birdsongs

🦇🔁 lichenlikehim Follow

windclan bros....

🍄🔁 shrewd-and-wondervole

Something's not adding up. Even discounting the kittypet option, there are way more voters than there are Clan cats.

⚡🔁 thunderclan-official Follow

there are numbers above 5?

🦁🔁 the-lionesse Follow

y'all i figured out why the vote counts are so high. sparrowsong from riverclan just went out and gave birth to fifty kits and signed them all up for clanblr accounts jkldfjslkfd

🪱🔁 wormdefender Follow

op is having a breakdown about thunderclan not winning btw

🐺🔁 dogfandom Follow

OP: here's a silly poll!

cats: get a little silly with it

OP: YOU HAVE COMMITTED VIOLENCE AGAINST ME AND MY MOTHER

#oh so this is what's going on #but where is the breakdown post #edit: i found it 2,349 notes ➡️🗨️🔁❤️

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🐸 dreamsofgreenleaf

here's how thunderclan can still win

#is this anything #mine 1 note ➡️🗨️🔁❤️

Oopsie! An error was encountered when reblogging. Try again? You've exceeded your daily post limit.

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🍄 shrewd-and-wondervole 🔁 the-lionesse Follow

Anonymous mewed: wait how did sparrowspong give birth to fifty kits at once

🦁 the-lionesse Follow

she slept with multiple toms. hope that helps.

#interesting #i didn't know that was possible! #bio tag 230 notes ➡️🗨️🔁🤍

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🪳 starclansfavoriteplaything 🔁 dirteater

Anonymous mewed: i found someone's mirrorleaf still logged into their clanblr at the gathering and voted for shadowclan. i'm not even a clan cat i just got lost while playing outside

🙀 clan-confessions

.

🪶🔁 pheasantcatcher Follow

anon is braver than any thunderclan warrior

🌿🔁 herbmother Follow

This is what StarClan wants for us. To do the right thing even when we won't get credit for it.

🪳🔁 starclansfavoriteplaything

RARE KITTYPET W

#YOU ARE THE REASON WE CANT HAVE PEACE #lmto [Editor's note: 'laughing my tail off'] 3,401 notes ➡️🗨️🔁❤️

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🕸️ foxtails 🔁 greencoughtiger Follow

🐭 mouse ✔️✔️

the winner is not shadowclan or riverclan or anyone else. the winner is voter fraud

#prev wtf you can't join clanblr until you're at least twelve moons of age 3,925 notes ➡️🗨️🔁🤍

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🪳 starclansfavoriteplaything 🔁 dirteater

🐈 freshkillz Follow

feeling lonely need me a she-cat with a mottled pelt and thick tail rn

🦋🔁 moon--moth Follow

not now the entirety of thunderclan was just murdered

#READ THE CAMP 129 notes ➡️🗨️🔁🤍

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🐸 dreamsofgreenleaf 🔁 mewsogyny Follow

purrzerk-deactivated-80-01m-04d mewed: You can't get pregnant with multiple litters at once. Talk to your medicine cat before spouting misinformation on clanblr

🦁 the-lionesse Follow

i'm literally a medicine cat apprentice but go off

🐷🔁 tomsplaining-archive Follow

Example #163

#get his tail 778 notes ➡️🗨️🔁🤍

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◼️ dirteater 🔁 cats-posting-their-ls Follow

clan-showdown-official-deactivated-80-0

To everycat that reblogged and voted in my poll in good faith, I thank you.

Clearly something fishy is afoot, whether that's from kits birthed for the purpose of this poll, or popular blogs like @​mouse and @swanstar-official badgering their kittypet followers to vote for their Clan. And clearly the subversion does not come from all sides in this debate. I have half a mind to declare ThunderClan the winner, just out of spite.

If RiverClan or ShadowClan 'wins' by cheating, fraud, intimidation, and manipulation, does that 'prove' that it is the best? Hardly. It only proves that such Clans are willing to gain any advantage by any means—including dishonorable ones. Can you trust that such cats won't resort to dirty tactics in snout-to-snout interactions? At the Gathering? In war? Cats like you are the reason we will never have peace.

I won't lie, I'm a bit distraught right now. But I probably should not have expected anything else from this StarClan-forsaken webbedsight. I will never be doing anything like this for you mangy cats ever again. Goodbye.

#this kitty really thought he was going to win the nuzzle peace prize with this poll #my brother in starclan this is not a forest of honor 2,064 notes ➡️🗨️🔁❤️

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🌑 nightmeows 🔁 malecalico

🤵 actualtwoleg

i didn't even knowed that there wass so many cats in this beuatifal world. woag

🌞🔁 malecalico

only valid ally

#can someone explain what is going on 64 notes ➡️🗨️🔁❤️

[ohdeerfully]

hello there!

was wondering if I could request Alastor and reader having a debate over whether radio or the newspaper is better than the other (reader was a journalist in 1930’s New York in their past life). Heated debate that ends with fluff.

thank you!❤️❤️

hi thanks for the request!! honestly it doesnt really end with fluff, more just alastor being confused and also confusing, and im super sorry for that :sob: but i hope u enjoy it anyway!!! kiss kiss

What Would the Papers Say

Alastor x Reader (not explicitly romantic)

TW: none! join my discord!

◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈

Alastor stood in front of you, a tight smile and narrowed brows decorating his face as he stood ominously over you. You swallowed, hard, as you had to crane your neck significantly to look him in the eyes. He waited impatiently for your words, his smile inching to become larger and more sinister by the second.

You took a deep breath and steadied your gaze against his, staring into his maliciously red eyes.

“Why can’t you just admit your wrong,” You said snidely, “The newspaper reached so many more people. And gave more people jobs. And was just better in general, really.”

Alastor laughed at you with closed eyes, something he would tend to do in arguments. He liked to make the other person feel ridiculous. 

“How wrong that is!” He snapped back, eyes settling on you again. “My dear, the radio had much more value. Could your rolls of paper play music? Speak to people? All I see is a boring, colorless, dry wad of useless writing.”

You balled your fists in anger, restraining yourself from getting physical. You wouldn’t be able to land anything, anyway, so there was no point in trying. 

“That ‘useless writing’ was my life’s work, you dick!” You spat, heart clenching slightly at the thought of him considering something so important to you useless. “Some people don’t like to listen to an annoying asshole yap in their ear for forty minutes!”

Alastor waved his hand dismissively at your attempt at an insult, his smile never faltering in the slightest. If anything, it grew wider when he saw your growing frustration. “But more people like listening to the asshole’s stories than reading the drab paper, no? News travels so much faster verbally! Why else do you think the paper lost popularity after the radio was introduced?”

You lost any response you had, eyes falling to the floor in defeat. Your stomach churned with unease, hating that you were losing an argument to Alastor. Yeah, it was hard to win against him in the first place, but it still pissed you off.

“At least we had fun comics to read…” You muttered in a weak attempt at a retort, folding your arms.

Alastor only barked a laugh in response, stepping forward and grabbing your chin with his sharp claws to tilt your eyes back up to him. He wanted to see your eyes glimmer with defeat, it was something he loved to see when he beat somebody in an argument—especially over something they were so passionate about.

However, his smile weakened by a hair when he saw your eyes, slightly shining with held back tears. You still had a look of frustration and you were confidently staring right back at him, but for once… he didn’t really like the look of miserable defeat. Not on you. 

Alastor’s grip on your chin dropped so fast, as if you burned him, and his eyes darted away from yours. His brows were furrowed in what you perceived as confusion, but the expression vanished nearly as soon as you recognized it. 

“Agree to disagree, then,” He said finally, looking back down at you through slitted eyes. He turned with a dramatic flourish, briskly walking away. He turned his head slightly towards you as he spoke one last time, “though, the radio’s never been used for fire kindling.”

Alastor did not like the way you made him feel. He didn't like that your grief made his own emotions go haywire. He was going to find out what it was about you that made him feel... weak, was it? He wasn't sure, but he just needed to get out of there.

You cursed at him, though he paid your words no mind. You could tell by the way his ear flicked in your direction that he had at least heard your frustrations. You finally let your confident face fall, and with a pout you traveled towards the hotel lobby. You needed a drink.

“Bold to argue with Alastor like that,” Husk gruffly commented as you sat down, slumping your shoulders. His arms were folded over his chest, and you awkwardly rubbed your arm.

“You heard all that?”

“You aren’t exactly the quietest.”

You sighed, resting your head against your palm and drumming your free hand against the bartop. “That’s embarrassing,” You said simply, chewing on the inside of your cheek. It wasn’t uncommon for racket in the hotel, but you typically held yourself to a higher standard than being the cause of said racket.

Even though you were upset about the argument, you couldn’t help but visualize that expression on his face when he looked at you earlier. What was that? Concern? Regret? Or were you just reading too much into it? And why did he leave the room so quickly?

You pondered over this as Husk slid a drink over towards you, the glass leaving a watery trail from building condensation. You gave him a small smile and silently sipped at it for a few minutes.

You tried to tell yourself you didn’t care one way or another what those emotions Alastor displayed were. He was a jerk. He put you down for what you were passionate about, and what you had dedicated your life too. What a dick. You didn’t care. Nope.

With a groan, you tilted your head back to finish the glass and nodded a thanks to Husk again before you made your way up the hotel stairs. Without realizing it, your legs seemed to take you to a particular floor and to a particular room that you would’ve rather avoided. You briefly wondered how strong that drink was that Husk gave you.

You held your fist up, paused for a few seconds, and then knocked. Why were you even here in the first place? You weren’t going to apologize. You opened the door yourself when you heard a faint ‘come in,’ slowly pushing it forwards and cracking it open just enough to peek your head through. Your eyes trailed around the room before you finally saw the demon in a bayou-like setting. 

Alastor was sitting leisurely on a metal chair, one leg thrown over the other as he sipped on a mug. His eyes were barely open as he relaxed, and you could only slightly tell that he was looking at you.

“It’s rather impolite to interrupt somebody’s alone time,” He quipped as you walked the rest of your body into the room. “Especially somebody you pestered and yelled at only an hour ago.”

You bit back an angry comment, and kept your breathing level. You shouldn’t let him get under your skin like this. You clenched your fists, but otherwise maintained a cool attitude. You walked towards the corner of the room, examining the scenery before you. You wondered if the forest was actually that big, or if the wall was just an extremely well illustrated illusion. It wouldn’t surprise you if Alastor was eccentric enough to manifest a whole bayou in his own room.

Alastor looked up at you from his seated position, though he still seemed incredibly tall even as he sat. He had a grin spread across his face, and his head tilted slightly at you.

“Need something?” He tried prompting a word out of you. You hadn’t said anything since coming in, and curiosity began gnawing at his thoughts. He was frustrated, truthfully, about the earlier experience he had with his own confused, jumbled thoughts.

You honestly didn’t know why you came to his room. You didn’t really know what to say. You weren’t going to apologize or grovel for forgiveness, and you knew he would never ever admit he was wrong, either.

“You know,” You started slowly, voice just above a mutter. “The newspaper and radio could’ve worked together… one doesn’t have to be better than the other.”

Both grin and eyes widened at your comment. A wave of Alastor’s hand materialized an identical chair across the table, and you sat yourself neatly—and, a bit awkwardly—when he gestured for you to join him.

“What a thought,” He replied, bringing the mug to his lips again. His comment didn’t really give you any insight to what he actually thought about your statement. Though, you should’ve guessed. He has a superiority complex so big he would never admit to anything being on an equal level to him.

Still, you smiled weakly at him. You watched as his gaze studied you, maybe a bit too intently, and you momentarily saw that strange expression shift across his features. Just as before, you barely had time to consider it before it vanished.

“Tell me,” Alastor said, leaning back into his chair. A mug manifested in front of you as he spoke, and with a smell you could tell it was your favorite tea. You wondered if he actually knew, or if it was just something he could do magically. “If you are so keen on the radio and paper working together…”

He paused dramatically, and you clenched your jaw in response. How aggravating his knack for showmanship could be.

“Would you care to make a deal?” There was a sinister look in his eyes as he said the words, his grin twisting up his face with his sharp teeth bared at you. You felt a prickling at your neck, a bit uncomfortable.

“I don’t really… want you to have my soul, dude,” You responded, fiddling your fingers around the rim of the mug in front of you. 

That sinister expression lightened, and he cheerfully waved a hand at you. “No, no, no,” He laughed, leaning forward and letting his elbows rest against the table. “No soul contract. Just… say, a mutually beneficial partnership. Radio Demon and Newspaper Demon. Interesting, right?”

“I… guess,” You replied slowly, considering it. Hey, if your soul wasn’t involved, what was the big deal? How much power could Alastor hold over you if he didn’t have your soul?

A lot, probably.

You shrugged. “Sure, deal.” 

Immediately after your response, a shining sheet of paper and an outdated quill appeared in front of you. You eyed Alastor warily as you took the sheet, reading over the terms of your deal. Honestly, it didn’t seem that bad. It only really iterated your loyalty to him, and in return he’d give you the same. 

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was a weird attempt at courting you. Weird.

Your eyes moved back to Alastor, who was watching you intensely. He had that strange expression once again, and it was starting to frustrate you. Why did he keep looking at you like that? And what did it mean? The room was silent for a few moments, save for the flickering noise of the ever-present radio frequency that followed the demon in front of you.

You took the quill, signed, and after a dramatic flash of light the paper was gone and you saw Alastor sitting with his eyes closed in an overly pleased smile. He clapped his hands together for a moment, before settling his sharp gaze on you once again.

“Well, my dear,” He leaned his chin on top of his hands, which were clasped together. He had a dangerous glint in his eye. “Mind if I take you for lunch to celebrate our new partnership?”

[dotster001]

Leech Vs Morality

Summary: Jade x gn!reader When paired off with Jade for a class, the two of you have a debate about morality.

A/N: dedicated to my pookie wookie @tiyoin who has Jade leech brain rot right now. I present you with one of the few moments you will ever fluster Jade Leech 😁.

You were paired up with the second years in potions today. The love potion you would be making was extremely complex, so Crewel had thought it safer to have an older student guide you.

You winced as you watched Floyd bouncing off the walls while Jack stared straight ahead. Poor guy got stuck with a rough partner.

Meanwhile, your partner was a little too good at this potion. But you weren't going to think about it.

“And done. Excellent work, partner,” Jade beamed at you. It had taken ten minutes to complete it, and he'd finished like it was nothing. All your classmates were still on step two. You weren't going to think about it.

“Thanks for the help, Jade,” you sighed, slouching in your seat.

“It was no problem.”

You sat in silence for a moment, until Jade broke the silence.

“You look like you have something you want to ask.”

You thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. Why did we make this?”

“Love potions are an important staple in potion making.”

“But why?”

He laughed lightly, “I'm not sure I follow.”

“Well, aren't love potions unethical?”

He froze, the atmosphere between the two of you becoming tense.

“Unethical?” He laughed hoarsely.

“Yeah. You're forcing someone who wants nothing to do with you, to love you.”

“I wouldn't use the word unethical, perse..”

Was he sweating? He looked clammy.

“Why not?”

“Well, a love potion doesn't last forever. So if you want the object of your affections to love you, you either need to invest a lot of money into making potions forever, or you need to figure out how to get them to love you in the time limit. Simply put, it is getting your fin in the door.”

“But it's still a love born on lies, and the abuse of free will!”

He slowly pulled out his phone, his expression had long since turned back to normal, but his typing was hurried.

“They're quite common around here. If someone were to use one on you…” he trailed off, his brow quirked in amusement.

You stared at him, not nearly as amused as he was.

“They would never have a chance of me even speaking to them once it wore off,” you said firmly.

“Hmm.”

His phone rang, and he stood up.

“That's Azul. I have to take this.” Without waiting for your response, he left the room in a rush, hurriedly saying something in a language you didn't recognize.

“What'd you say to upset Jade so bad?”

You shrieked. You had been so focused on Jade leaving, that you hadn't noticed Floyd take his seat.

“I didn't say anything! And what do you mean upset, he looks fine!”

“Nah. He's upset. I can tell. Absolutely devastated,” Floyd grinned excitedly. “So, spill! What was it?”

“All we were doing was debating whether love potions are ethical or not!”

Floyd burst into laughter.

“What's so funny?” You snapped.

“You're just so adorable, Shrimpy. Gotta be careful about that, or some shark is gonna eat you up-”

He was yanked from the chair, and you started as Jade held him an inch off the floor, by the collar.

“Fufu, Floyd,” his tone was a warning. Of what you didn't know, but you were a little too scared to ask.

“Jade,” Floyd responded with a giggle.

“Don't you have your own partner to assist?”

“Just lookin out for my brother, that's all!”

Jade set him down, and Floyd threw you a wink, before skipping back over to Jack, who mouthed you the word, ‘help’.

Jade sat in his chair, and scooted closer to you.

“So, Y/N. If someone were to win your heart, without a love potion, how would they do it?”

....

Tag list- @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll @pikeru565

[nicksolemnlyswears]

DUDDDDE!!

I am in LOVE with your writing. I have been craving some good Han Lue works and you're filling the hole!

Everywhere is extremely lacking in quality Han Lue content bro 😭😭

But any whosies.

I was wondering if it were at all possible to request a Han work from you (from what I've seen you still have requests open so if you don't im sorry)

Specifically something about a reader who's fucking amazing at driving, and has been crushing on Han for a while, and the two decode to race (set in Tokyo) and whoever wins gets the loser to do what they want. Y'know classic setup.

You could choose where this leads to. Idc if we win or loose. All I want is a little bit of fluff sprinkled amongst some smut mayhaps. You could do this in headcannon format btw don't feel obligated to write the whole thing.

I'm just thirsting for any thing I can take 💀🙏🏼

Take your time! <3

pairing: han lue x racer!reader

words: 11.4k

warnings: some cursing and smut (pls wrap it before you tap it) don't judge my smut too much, it's been a while since i've written one

notes: hi anon! thank you for all your sweet, sweet words 🥺 i hope this is somewhere along the lines of what you were thinking of. as soon as i saw your request i was ✨inspired✨ it's been a long time since i've been so hooked by a oneshot. i have worked on it almost everyday since i received it so thank you! i changed the request just a little bit, i hope you don't mind.

trust me i know there is a ridiculous lack in han content! it's the reason i'm here writing over this man! there is not enough content for the speed i consume it, lol. i've read my own headcanons like 10 times already, excluding the times i was working on it.

anyways! might have gotten a little carried away but i enjoyed writing it so much! here you go! enjoy!

i really really hope you like it!!

Tokyo was the city where you learned how to street race. Weaving through the cars on the highway became second nature the harder you pressed the gas pedal. The neon lights turned into blurs as you sped down traffic, whether it was in search of a prize or a thrill.

You were meant to meet Han Lue. His presence became known as soon as he stepped foot in the parking complexes that serve as makeshift race tracks. He quickly became popular with the crowd, especially when he joined DK's crew.

His races were seen as exclusive, known to happen once in a blue moon. He was totally opposite to you. You took the opportunity to race any moment you could. It's what lead you to become a good racer. Practice makes perfect, after all.

'Good racer' is a bit of an understatement. You're one of the best right after DK. There's a debate about whether the second best is you or Han. Each person can take their pick. Many have suggested the idea for the both of you to race, but Han has shot down each and every one. He doesn't need to prove himself to anyone. Besides, he hasn't had anything to gain from racing you.

People like to call you 'Angel' because when you started participating in the races, you looked like an absolute angel, but soon after, they discovered you raced like the devil. You fool everyone around you, even with the way you drive. Whenever someone has to go against you, they think they have your strategy down, yet you switch it up every time.

The distinctive revving of your car alerts Han of your presence. He glances to his left, where you've parked right beside him. As you open the door and step out of your car, he opens a bag of chips, depositing one into his mouth.

You walk over to him, leaning against his car like he is. The bare skin of your back arching slightly as it touches the cool metal. "Have I missed anything?"

Han shakes his head cooly, watching his surroundings. He spares you a glance, taking in what you're wearing. A short, shimmery dress with an open back and high heels. Seems like you don't plan on racing tonight. You refuse to race in high heels. You've tried before and failed. You didn't lose, but you did break off both heels.

You feel his eyes trailing over your body, and you don't mind it. You like that you can catch his attention that way. Having a crush on a guy like Han takes work. He has every woman's attention in the racing underground. They often cling to his arms and bat their eyelashes his way, and he has gladly taken a few of them home.

"You done judging my outfit?" You say, looking at him.

"Not judging, admiring," he promptly replies with a small shrug.

That right there is what feeds into your silly little crush. Han isn't afraid of your comments or banter. If you look good, he'll say it. It's the way he says it that irks you, though. He is so nonchalant and aloof like he's commenting on the weather.

It doesn't help that he's never truly made a move on you. He considers you his friend and acts that way (most of the time, at least). You hate every moment because being his friend is the last thing you want.

"I take it you're not gonna race tonight?" He asks, already knowing the answer. He just needed an excuse to talk to you. Digging into his bag of chips, he grabbed another one to pop into his mouth.

"Not unless it's against you," you respond cheekily.

Han chuckles, "Not you too."

"Are you afraid of losing, Han?" You ask him, keeping your eyes on the race about to start. Why else would he avoid racing you?

Han props one arm on the roof of his car, facing you and saying, "If you're into racing, you can't be afraid to lose, Angel."

"Then why don't you spoil me a little and race me?" You hum, turning your head to face him. He's much closer than you anticipated, but you resist the urge to pull back despite the reddening of your cheeks. You want Han to know you like him even if you refuse to say it out loud.

"Maybe one day when I have something to race for," he responds simply, kissing your cheek and turning back to watch the race.

You release a shaky sigh and try to calm your pounding heart. Extending a hand, you dip your fingers into Han's nearly empty bag of chips and steal one for yourself. Han doesn't mind lowering the bag to make it easier for you. There's a smirk on his face as he fully well knows what he did. It's fun to make you flustered.

Han is out on the streets of Tokyo doing business or collecting his money from the greedy hands of wanna be gangsters. It's entertaining, to say the least, although sometimes it gets tedious. It's only fun when they get rowdy and want to intimidate him. They should know better than to judge Han by his calm exterior.

He's walking by the busy streets of Shibuya, the shopping district of Tokyo, minding his business. Han avoids the masses of people until he looks into a store and sees you. You're by the checkout desk, ringing out a client.

Han can't help it; he's drawn to you. Forgetting the wad money he has to collect, he enters the store. The bell on top of it chimes, prompting you to greet the customer in an abnormally cheery tone.

"Hello, welcome to-Han?" You stutter over the greeting, seeing his slightly mocking grin.

Han walks over to you and leans on the counter, there was barely anyone in the store now. Perfect timing. He assesses you and your overly pink clothes, bedazzled name tag, and glossy pink lips. It's unlike you to be so pink. He recalls you telling him you hate the wretched color.

"So this is where you work, Angel," he hums, toying with the trinkets on the checkout counter.

"Not everyone can survive with racing and sketchy side deals," You mutter. One hand on your tilted hip as you shoot him an annoyed look.

If racing made you enough money, you certainly would not be working in a store that makes you wear pink on every single shift. You could get more involved in the sketchy part of racing, but things are alright for now.

"True," Han stifles a laugh. He grabs a lollipop from the big jar filled with sweets for the paying customers and pops it into his mouth.

You extend a hand to throw away the colorful wrapping, and he places it gently on your hand, fingertips grazing your palm. You're not a teenager to be reacting over such minuscule actions, yet you do.

"What are you doing here, Han?" Han adores it when you say his name that way, pretending to be annoyed by his presence when in reality, you love having him around.

"Wanted to visit my favorite girl," he responds aloofly, carefully gauging your reaction. As he expected, your cheeks redden, and you try to hide it.

"Did you know lying makes your nose grow long," you scoff, rolling your eyes.

"Could be useful," Han says cheekily, causing your blush to deepen.

"If you're not going to buy anything, you can't be here," you shoot with a pout.

You weren't prepared to face Han this afternoon. You didn't get to repeat your affirmation as you do every night you encounter him. His constant playfulness throws you off, not giving you the opportunity to compose yourself.

"Oh no, consumerism got its claws on you," he jokes sarcastically. You glare at him and cross your arms over your chest, which only emphasizes the size of your chest. "Fine, help me find a new jacket?"

You round the counter and motion for Han to follow you toward the men's section. Your coworker will have no problem taking over the checkout counter.

You shoot Han question after question in search of the perfect jacket for him: colors, textures, durability, versatility, sizing, and so on. He responds just as quickly, propping an arm up and leaning against a rack of clothes as he watches you storm all over the store in search of the item that screams Han. He had no intentions of buying anything today but seeing how invested you got it leaves him no choice.

"I quite like this one," you beam, standing Han in front of a full-length mirror. You slide off the jacket he's wearing and replace it with the nice black leather jacket you found for him. Dusting him off, you look into the mirror seeing how perfectly it fits his broad shoulders.

"Why do I feel like you're giving me the most expensive one?" Han asks, looking at himself in the mirror.

He had to admit you picked well. He looks great in the black leather jacket. It didn't have too many buckles to make him uncomfortable, and it wasn't too warm either. The material felt nice and luxurious hence his comment.

"You asked for my help," you shrug, "It's not my fault I have expensive taste. Besides, you look hot in it." You wink at Han through the mirror.

Han tries to hide the smile forming on his lips. You were getting bolder and bolder. He knows about your crush on him; you're terrible at hiding it. Truthfully, he's felt the same from the moment he saw you race. You're oblivious, though, so he likes to tease you.

"I'll take it," Han sighs, refusing to look at the price tag. "Might even wear it on a date."

"Oh, you've got a date?" Your smile falters, quickly regretting picking such a nice outfit that makes him look so handsome. You'd definitely put out if a man wore that to a date and was as lovely as Han. All of your hard work just for another girl to enjoy it. If you catch one of Han's little friends wrapped around the jacket...you will burn it.

"Not yet," he says mysteriously, taking off the jacket and returning to the checkout counter. Han has to get going. He does have to collect his money. Especially now that you've convinced him to buy the expensive leather jacket. 'It's an investment,' he tells himself.

"She'll be one lucky girl," you huff, scanning the tag, carefully folding it, and placing it on a bag. "Don't worry, I'll apply the friends and family discount."

You watch Han go through the display window and hope he was just fucking with you on the whole date thing. You can live with your crush and have him as just a friend, but if he gets a girlfriend, you will not be able to manage it. You scold yourself silently for acting like a lovesick teenager. You're better than that. Right?

Taking the party to Han's club after a race is a must, especially after winning six thousand dollars. You won't have to worry about rent for at least six months, which is something to celebrate.

You park next to Han's car, and he waits for you to enter the plain-looking building. People greet him left and right as they go through the door that pours music and lights each time it's opened.

"You sure are popular," you tease him, leisurely walking towards him.

"Comes with the territory," Han responds without missing a beat. "Ready?" He asks, motioning for you to walk ahead of him.

"Always," you chirp. You purposefully accentuate the sway of your hips, giving Han something to look at.

Being a Friday night, the inside is filled to the brim, there isn't any space for more drunken people. Using your short height to your advantage, you easily find a way to the connecting hallway between this part of the club and the more exclusive one.

Han isn't as lucky constantly losing you from his sight. He's conscious that you are a grown woman capable of making your own decisions and caring for yourself, but he'd feel better being with you.

When he catches up to you at a point, he grabs your hips, pressing you against him, preventing you from getting lost again. You look back, startled, expecting to see a stranger rubbing against you. Noticing this, Han quickly calms you, "It's just me, Angel."

'It's just Han,' you repeat to yourself. You grab onto one of his hands, holding onto your hip, taking full advantage of the situation. Having Han wrapped around you feels like being on cloud nine. If this wasn't his club, you'd be going in circles, so he never pulls away.

With Han holding onto you, the way to the 'not-so-secret' hallway takes longer than usual. Not that you're complaining, though! Han's firm grip makes you fall harder for him. It fuels your imagination on how it would feel in other situations.

Han enjoys this position just as much as you do. He can pretend it's a safety thing as he steers you away from the sweaty bodies of drunks dancing, but it's for his selfish gain.

Having your body close to him reminds him of what he's missing and desperately desires. It started as a little innocent game for Han, knowing you had a crush on him, but then it turned into something more. He likes that you have feelings for him and wants it to stay that way. Han wants your attention on him all the time. His games are over; he wants you.

To your surprise, Han doesn't let go of your waist when you enter the hallway. Instead, he slings one arm around it as he walks beside you. "Maybe we should've taken the other entrance," he smirks.

"And miss the show?" You chuckle, finding a couple making out in the deserted hallway. Neither is willing to admit it's not about the show but about Han's proximity.

Unlike all the other times in the past you've partied with Han, he doesn't let go of you for more than two minutes. You dance all night together, just the two of you, no girls coming up to Han and no guys coming up to you. There simply wasn't a window of opportunity.

"You enjoying yourself?" He says in your ear over the loud music. Your back is against his front as your sway and roll your body to the beat. One of his hands is nursing a drink, and the other is right where it should be, on you.

"I won 6k and have a cute guy buying me drinks and dancing with me. What do you think?" You giggle, turning in his arms to face him instead. The drinks stop you from overthinking and let you wrap your arms around his neck. Faces close. You want to kiss him so bad you're not drunk enough, though, and it's not the way you'd like to do it, either.

"Just making sure," he smiles down at you, hand on your lower back.

The night is long, yet with Han, it goes by so fast. Sooner than you'd prefer, he walks you to your car, no longer holding onto your waist but your hand. There are only a few stragglers left behind who refuse to acknowledge the night is over. You and Han are two of them.

Reaching your white and red, modified skyline Han opens the door for you. With one arm propped against the open door and the other extended onto the roof, Han cages you against your car. Before you get in, you turn to face him, finding the bravery to do something you've been thinking about all night.

"Thanks for tonight, Han. I had fun," you say softly, suddenly feeling shy.

"Anytime, Angel," he responds smoothly, brushing his fingers on your naked shoulder. The jacket you wore earlier was discarded somewhere in the bar. An excuse for Han to see you outside the races.

"Well, goodnight." Gathering every particle of bravery, you stand on your toes and peck his lips softly.

It's only a tiny, innocent kiss, yet it makes Han close his eyes. It happens too quickly for his liking. You have been growing bolder, bold enough to kiss him. He needs to step up his game.

Taking advantage of his distracted state, you close your car door and rev the engine. On the drive to your apartment, you squeal in excitement. Fingers ghost over your lips, replaying the small kiss over and over again.

Another chance at a race becomes available only days after your win. Men love to challenge women, especially those who are winning, much like you are.

They hate seeing you be successful, but it doesn't bother you in the least. It's another opportunity to win cash or a car, which you can use for parts and sell what you don't need.

As you roll up to the starting line, Han approaches your window, leaning down to duck his head in.

"Come to give me a good luck kiss?" You speak playfully, lips turned up into a smile.

You two haven't talked about what happened at the club and have continued to act as you usually do. He's been more touchy with you, though, often trying to find a way to be close to you. Being the lovestruck fool you are, you've encouraged it, finding those ways to let him be close.

"We both know you don't need luck. You've got this in the bag, Angel." Han speaks encouragingly, "Tell you what, though. You win, and it's yours."

"Making me earn it, I see," you laugh, shaking your head. "Alright, you've got a deal. See you on the other side."

Han is confident you'll win. With a last reassuring tap on your door, he steps back, finding his place in the crowd.

Your opponent finally drives up to the starting line, sending you an unnecessary nasty look you laugh at. The flag girl stands between the two cars, her dress leaving nothing to the imagination. You respect it. They are a lot more confident than you are in that department.

You are off when the word 'go' falls from her lips. You knew this track by heart, having raced it so many times. You knew exactly when to hit the gas and when to press the brake to get the car to swerve. Han's full attention is on your race, and when your car disappears to another level, he takes the elevator up to the top floor, where the finish line is. Watching you race is interesting. You always come up with ways to confuse your opponents.

With a bag of chips, he anxiously waits for your victory. Regardless of your ability to race and win, your races make him nervous. He cares about you, and so many things can go wrong.

The noisy crowd gets louder as the sound of tires screeching gets closer. In seconds, your car swerves onto the top floor, again marking you as the victor. There's not a scratch or bump in your car. Your opponent arrives shortly after with dents and long scratches in his paint.

The crowd cheers loudly for you, coming up to you to congratulate you and tell you how cool you looked. Your opponent comes up to you and hands you his keys with a scowl. You shrug it off. A deal is a deal.

Winning leaves you on a high, a feeling of invincibility wrapping around you. You've learned to control it because that feeling caused a big loss years ago. You get distracted by the people around you and forget Han's promise. It's funny because it was the only thing running through your head while you raced.

"Good job out there," Han says, catching up to you later in the night once the hype died down.

"Why, thank you!" You chirp, closing the hood of your car and leaning back to sit on it.

"I believe I made a promise," Han mentions, stepping close to you until you're face to face, only a few inches between the two of you. "You did," you nod, biting your lip.

Han notices this, bringing a hand up to cup your face, his thumb tugging your lip loose from the tight hold of your teeth. The other wraps around your waist, pulling you close. You slide on the warm metal of your car, placing a hand on his chest to brace yourself as Han settles between your legs.

"I'm a man of my word," he whispers, finally leaning down to press his eager lips against yours. Han is greedy for many things, and your lips are one of them. Ever since that night at the club, he's wanted to smash his lips against yours, to feel you close, taste you.

Your eyes instantly flutter close, fisting Han's shirt in your hand as if afraid he'll pull away too quickly. The kiss starts slowly as you both test the waters, but it soon becomes not enough. Han tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

It's an electric shock that consumes him and doesn't let him go. This is the result of Han holding himself back, and you made it worse when you gave him a taste the other night.

Han slips a hand under your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin. You gasp against his lips, arching your back as his cold fingers catch you by surprise. It serves as an opportunity for Han, his tongue pushing past your pouty lips, savoring the moment.

You gave into him, offering everything you have in exchange for this moment. His warmth wraps around you, burning you from the inside out. The need to breathe makes itself present too soon and becomes far more demanding than the need for each other's lips.

Han pulls away, your bottom lip between his teeth. You're breathless, as if you ran a marathon. You feel lightheaded, intoxicated by Han, who continues to peck your lips softly. He might be addicted already. The tips of his fingers draw soothing circles on your lower back, grounding you in the moment.

"So this is what winning feels like," you breathe out, smoothing Han's shirt with your palms. A futile way to hide their shakiness.

Han laughs, pressing his face against your neck and leaving a fleeting kiss behind. "Appears so, Angel."

A perk of being Han's friend is using his garage whenever you want. The days of paying for a spot to fix your car in a stranger's garage are far in the past. At the moment, you've spent the most part of the afternoon upgrading your car. The car you won on your last race sits beside yours with the hood popped open as you switched around pieces. He had quality parts, and his driving still sucked.

Twinkie, Earl, and the others are scattered around the large garage, working on different things and chattering. You had purposefully picked a spot away from them so you wouldn't get distracted. With work, your time is limited.

Han is on the second floor, leaning against the railing and pretending to watch the first floor and what they are doing. In reality, he is watching you closely.

You're bent over the hood of the car, working on unscrewing a tight bolt, cursing at the man who installed it initially. It's a sight straight out of his dreams. Your Nike sweatpants hung low on your hips, framing your ass perfectly. If he focused, he'd see the dimples on your lower back. His mind ran wild at the thought of pressing his thumbs against them while taking you from behind.

It's been a while since he's slept around. He cut himself off when he realized his feelings for you. What was the point of sleeping around if he wouldn't be satisfied? Those girls weren't you. They were temporary relief. Now, his pants tighten at anything you do. It's like he's seventeen again and unable to keep it in his pants.

He followed the curve of your ass to your arched back and the cropped shirt you wore. The matching crew neck sweater you arrived in is discarded in your car due to the heat. The revealing shirt rose with each of your movements, revealing the band of your baby blue bra. You tug on it for the millionth time today, annoyed.

The strands of hair you curled to frame your face stick uncomfortably to your sweaty forehead. You regret not putting them back into the two braids that fell over your shoulders.

Han needed to rip his eyes away from you before the others noticed. He's been staring for too long, fantasizing about everything he could do to you. To Han, you looked even more beautiful than you did that night with your sparkly dress and makeup. A woman who knows her way around a car is instantly a hundred times more attractive in his eyes.

As he accidentally visualizes you taking his cock from that same exact position, car included, you groan and straighten up. "I need help," you whine to no one in particular. The bolt is not budging, no matter how hard you try.

Han snaps out of his fantasy and springs into action, quickly appearing by your side. You've bent over again, wrench in hand, to give it one more try before giving up. He leans beside you, a hand on your lower back for faux support.

"What's the matter, Angel?" He says softly, one hand propping him up as he looks at the machinery under the hood. It's better if he helps you. He can't continue listening to your whines and groans.

"I need to unscrew those," you point at the bolts giving you a hard time.

Han asks for the wrench in your hands, and you place it in his hand, annoyed. You don't need the help of a man to do this, but it's Han, so you'll take it. You watch him as he places the wrench around the bolt, his arm tenses, emphasizing his muscles hidden by the short-sleeved button-up he wore over a white wife-beater tank.

His hair fell around his eyes as he successfully unscrewed the bolts. Feminism died as you lustfully took in Han, biting your lip. 'What a man,' you thought. You would've instantly refused the help if he had been any other guy.

"There you go," Han says, handing you the wrench. When he spares you a glance, he laughs softly. Good to know he has the same effect you have on him.

"Whatever would I do without you," you purr, shooting him a mischievous smile, "You deserve a reward." That's what it has come to, silly excuses to kiss Han because you're just friends. Nothing more.

Han looks at your lips briefly before snapping back to your eyes. You grin at him, leaning closer to kiss him for his 'hard work.' You know that he's been watching you all this time; you saw it from the reflective surface of the toolbox. Seeing his quickness to help you makes you believe he enjoyed the show.

Your lips brush teasingly against his, and just before Han can grab the back of your neck to stop the teasing, a loud bang tears through the room. Both you and Han pull away to see where the sound comes from, but Han bangs his head on the car's hood in the process.

"What the hell was that?" Han yells, rubbing the back of his head. He's annoyed that he's been interrupted.

"Sorry! The motor I was working on fell!" Earl exclaims from the other side of the garage, unaware of the daggers Han is throwing him.

"Best I get back to work," you quietly say with a chuckle, taking the piece you needed out of the car to bring it to yours.

"Yeah," Han says simply, reluctantly leaving to do his own thing.

Each and everyone that's in Han's garage returns to their business after the noisy interruption. Twinkie turns on a radio, blasting music to drown out the silence and clanking of tools. You work without interruption for the next three hours, giving your car all the love it deserves.

You clean your hands free of the motor oil and grease and search for Han. Your work for today was done. Now that you took anything valuable from the car you won, you had to sell it. You figured Han could do that for you.

"Hey, are you busy?" You ask him, seeing him working on a part by his desk.

"Nah, what's up, Angel?" He questions, dropping the screwdriver in his hand to focus all his attention on you.

Leaning on the desk casually, you begin speaking, "After I replace the bumper and give it a new paint job, can you sell that car for me?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," glancing at the car, Han agrees. It's a popular car in the racing world, and as soon as he gets the word out he's selling it, many offers will pop up.

"You're the best, Han!" You beam at him, pushing yourself off the desk to return downstairs.

"Angel, wait," he calls after you. Being your friend has been fun, yet he needs more. You shouldn't have to come up with excuses to kiss him; you should be able to do it freely whenever you want.

"Yes, Han," you ask softly, tilting your head in question.

Standing up from the rolling chair, he approaches you, "Do you want to go on a date?"

A grin sneaks past your lips before you even process what he said. Instantly, you nod your head, "I'd love to." You could combust at that moment. Finally, after months of pining, Han asked you out.

"Let's go," he smiles, grabbing your hand and guiding you to his car.

"Wait, now?" You furrow your eyebrows.

"Yes, unless you have something more important," he asks, teasing you.

"Nothing is more important, but I'm a mess," you shake your head hesitantly. You spent your afternoon working on cars, sweating, and getting covered in grease. You didn't think it would be in sweatpants when you pictured going on a date. Not to mention the state of your hair.

"No, you're not. If you must know, you've had me distracted all day," Han whispers the last part in your ear, trying to convince you even if it means giving himself away.

"Am I supposed to apologize?" You question, the corner of your lip curving into a sultry smile. You had been right all along.

"No, just agree to the date. Be spontaneous," Han bounces his eyebrows cutely.

"Let's do it," you sigh, hoping you won't regret it.

"Atta girl," Han smiles victoriously.

Han tries to remember the last time he had a proper date. Even with his ex, they just sort of happened. No date ever officially branded as such. It's why rather than asking you and waiting for the day to arrive, he decided to do it spontaneously. It leaves him no time to be nervous or to overthink things.

You slide your sweatshirt back on on the way out to shield yourself from the chilly Japanese night. Han opens the door to his car for you, shutting the door when you slip in. The drive is short as he takes you to a small family-owned sushi place he swears by.

"I'm surprised you eat more than chips and crackers," you joke with him as the food arrives, and he takes a bite.

"I definitely eat more than that," Han replies nonchalantly, referring to something else entirely. It's something you don't catch despite your dirty mind.

A discussion develops when you discover Han always orders the same thing in the restaurant. He's in Japan. He needs to throw himself into the culture and try new things.

Starting easy, you grab a piece of sushi from your plate, "You need to try this."

"I don't know," Han grimaces as he looks at the sushi held in your chopsticks.

"That's not an answer. Open your mouth," you groan, gently placing the sushi roll in his mouth.

You watch him chew slowly, getting a feel for the new food. "It's good," he agrees, liking whatever you had ordered. It was delicious, actually.

"Better than yours, right?" You ask him, knowingly, pointing your chopsticks at him.

"Yes," he rolls his eyes, refusing to give you the satisfaction.

"Told you," you sing, grabbing both plates and placing them in the middle of the table. Now you could each grab from both and share your meals.

The date goes smoothly. It's a wonder why the two of you hadn't gone to dinner before today. You already know Han is attentive and funny but his wisdom surprises you. He's already lived through so much, more than an average person. Despite being a couple years older than you, he retains his youth. That may be why he appeals to a younger crowd as well.

"What was your life like growing up?" You ask him, taking a drink from your Coke. Han ordered another plate of sushi to share, the one you chose earlier.

"My upbringing wasn't the best," he shrugs, remembering his life in California as a teen. "I was always in trouble."

"Why does something tell me that you were the one causing the trouble," you say, narrowing your eyes.

"I definitely was," he chuckles, "But in the end, it brought me here, and I'm happy."

Han believes in the timing of life. He's been after Tokyo for so long. Before stepping foot in Tokyo, he had to go through the Dominican Republic, Rio, Germany, Shanghai, London, and many more places. It was supposed to happen that way, or he wouldn't have met you.

"I knew it," you sigh dramatically, "I've always been into bad boys."

"What about you, Angel?" He returns the question, curious about your past.

"I grew up in a normal Japanese family. My dad's a mechanic, my mom a nurse, and my sister a pain in the ass. I went to school for engineering and graduated with top honors," you tell him, reminiscing on your not-as-impressive past.

"You say that as if it's easy to graduate with top honors," Han chides you, to which you roll your eyes. "Why work retail? Doesn't engineering make you a lot more money?"

"Don't laugh, okay?" You point at Han. When he agrees not to laugh, you continue, "I wanted to be a Formula 1 racer when I was younger. My dad signed me up to participate in smaller competitions, and I was pretty damn good. My mom was totally against it and forced my dad and me to quit.

Fast forward, I'm in college, and engineering seemed like the way to go. Learned about street racing and figured that could be a way back into my dream. It's a foolish thought. The professionals spend years in proper circuits practicing and competing. No one comes with a background of illegal racing."

Han wasn't expecting that answer. He assumed you hated engineering and did it to appease your parents. He wonders why you thought he would laugh. Your dream is nothing to laugh at. Having witnessed your racing, you undoubtedly had the innate talent. "So retail?" He prompts, realizing you didn't answer the first question.

Snapping your fingers, you say, "Right! I figured I'd always have my degree. I'd rather spend my time having fun now; when the time comes, I'll return to that. I do like it, but I'm not ready to commit to a life of 9 to 5's. I prefer spending my time in the wee hours of the night racing. Since I can't be a Formula 1 racer, I'll be a street racer. Much cooler, anyways."

"That takes guts," Han tells you, "I'm glad you're doing it."

You give him a little shrug and a smile because you were too. Despite your childish dream dying when your mom forced you to quit, you're still happy with your life. Especially if you end up with a guy like Han.

Han, being a gentleman, pays for dinner. Before returning to the car, you stop by a convenience store for dessert. Han follows you buying snacks for himself. In search of something sweet, you find a shelf filled with Pocky. You grab the chocolate-covered ones with a plan in mind.

You and Han sit at a table outside the convenience store. It was getting late, so only a few people were around. You open the packet of Pocky, taking out a chocolate-covered stick.

"Have you ever played the Pocky game?" You ask, taking a bite of the treat.

"No. What is it?" Han looks at you curiously.

"Essentially, you grab one end of the Pocky stick, and I grab the other. We have to eat it, but if one of us pulls away, they lose," you respond simply, hiding the game's purpose.

"That sounds awfully like Lady and the Tramp," Han mentions, catching onto your intentions.

Offering him a stick, you say, "Want to play?"

Han smiles at you and grabs the Pocky stick placing the biscuit end between his teeth. You hold the chocolate-covered end and tap his hand to start. You both take it slow, Han opting to stay still as you near his lips. You tilt your head when you're close to his lips, giving him the perfect opportunity to kiss you when only a small piece is left.

You smile into the chocolate-flavored kiss. If you wanted to kiss Han, you could've done it without so many sneaky plans or excuses, but it wouldn't be as fun.

"So, who won?" Han asks when you pull away.

"Does it matter?" You cheekily say, pulling him back in for another kiss.

There's no flaw in your reasoning. Han pulls you close, lifting your legs to lie in his lap. You spend more time than you care to admit making out outside the convenience store.

Han offers to drive you to your apartment since your car needs to be finished. Throughout the drive, his hand is laced with yours in your lap. Small talk flows between you as you continue to learn about each other.

Smoke coming from your apartment building cuts that conversation short. Firefighters stand outside the building, spraying water into the source of the fire. Han steps out of the car with you to ask anyone what is going on.

Noticing the building manager across the street, you approach him. He quickly blurts out all the information he knows. You're one of many of the tenants to approach him. "There's a fire on the sixth floor. We don't know the damage yet. I understand this is your residence, but you need somewhere else to say for the next few days while we asses the damage and inspect the building."

"What am I going to do?" You groan, covering your face with your hands. You worry about where you'll stay and your stuff in your apartment. You have important documents in there.

"You can stay with me," Han offers without a hint of hesitation.

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose." It's nice of Han to offer you a place to stay, but would it be too much at this stage of their situationship. Last thing you want is to push boundaries.

"You're not imposing. Let me help you," Han insists, grabbing your hand to rub soothing circles in it. It's a given he has feelings for you, but before that, you are his friend, and he's not going to leave you out on the streets or sleeping in your car.

Han offers you calming words on the way to his apartment. Your apartment is on the twelfth floor and the other side of the fire. Chances are that your stuff will probably be fine. Whether the building will close for renovations is another matter entirely.

His apartment is just another level to the building he owns. Its entrance is on a more private side. Inside, it's very clean and organized, a surprise since you expect most guys to be messy. Picture frames and knick knacks are scattered throughout the space, giving you more of a glimpse into Han's life.

It's quiet between the two of you but comfortable. Han is giving you time to process what you saw in your building. He offers you his shower if you'd like, and when you brought up you didn't have any clothes, he searched for a clean t-shirt and sweatpants you could borrow from him.

A shower is just what you need as you let the water cascade down your body. Fire aside, it has been a great day, even before Han asked you on a date. Hope fills your being at the prospect of soon beginning a relationship with Han. So far, everything points out it can happen. There haven't been any red flags or hesitation from him.

You change into the oversized t-shirt Han picked out for you and the spare pair of underwear you always carry in your bag. Smart girls know to carry a spare in case of emergencies. You debate about wearing the sweatpants he left for you but choose against it. The t-shirt covers enough.

You shyly make your way out of the bathroom in search of Han. You find him in the bedroom, grabbing an extra pillow and blanket. "The bed is yours," he mentions, eyes briefly trailing your naked legs.

"Where will you sleep?" You ask, furrowing your eyebrows. If anyone has to sleep on the couch, it should be you.

"I'll take the couch," he responds, as you expected.

"Han, stop being a gentleman and get in bed with me," you say, taking the pillow from his grasp and placing it back on the top of the bed.

He offers you an 'Are you sure?' look, and you nod confidently. He doesn't need to be told twice. Han steps out of the bedroom for a few minutes and grabs a shower. Taking that time, you get on the bed to get comfortable, it's soft, and you sink into it.

You're snoozing off when he returns to the room. Han carefully peels back the sheets and gets under them. Feeling the bed dip, you turn to the side to face him.

Your sleepy mood makes you cuddle up to him without much thought. The smell of his soap invades your senses. Han naturally accepts it, throwing an arm around your waist and hugging you closer, legs intertwined. He kisses the top of your head, finding comfort in the position.

Thankful doesn't begin to cover how you feel. There's this overwhelming sense of security that comes with Han. There is something about him that makes you trust him. Deep down, you know he wouldn't intentionally hurt you.

"How are you feeling?" Han checks up on you before you fall asleep.

"I'm okay. I hope none of my things got damaged," you mumble into his chest, pressing a kiss into it afterward. "Thank you for everything, Han. Your help with the car, the date, letting me invade your bed," you finish with a soft laugh.

"Anytime, Angel," he responds truthfully. If he can help you in any way, he will. Sleep consumes both quickly after, and it becomes the best night you've both had in a while.

The following day you're the first to wake. Han's arms are around your waist, and you feel his breath tickle the back of your neck. He's warm, and you just want to sink into it even more. Your need to pee pries you out of his embrace, though. 

As carefully as possible, you slip out of his loose grasp and head to the bathroom. Han had picked out a toothbrush for you the night before, which you're thankful for. Shuffling out of the bathroom, you cook breakfast for Han as a 'thank you' for his hospitality.

You pick the ingredients you need from his fridge, careful not to make too much noise. Your progress is slower than you prefer as you get used to the kitchen layout and localize everything you might need.

Soon enough, you drop pancake batter into the pan, and while that cooks, you scramble eggs with veggies. Since it's his kitchen, you assume he'll like what you make. It's his ingredients, after all.

Just after finishing the last batch of pancakes, you hear the patter of Han's feet entering the kitchen. You turn to glance at him quickly and greet him, "Good morning! I made you breakfast, sit!"

"You didn't have to do that," Han says, coming up behind you. He traps you between his body and the stove as if having you close last night wasn't enough.

"Yes, I did! You let me stay here, borrow clothes, sleep in your bed," you flip the pancakes as you count all the nice things he's done in less than 24 hours.

Humming, unconvinced, Han kisses your cheek and thanks you. It sends a tingle between your legs as his voice is raspy and deep from sleep. Your cheeks flare up, betraying you as always.

Han follows your orders and sits by the kitchen table, waiting till you're done to begin eating. With that time in his hands, he observes you. You're wearing the t-shirt he loaned you, which swallowed your frame. Each time you flipped a pancake, it rose slightly to reveal the light green fabric of your panties. Han soaked the sight in and wondered if this was what waited for him in the near future.

His eyes continue trailing down to your thick thighs. He wouldn't mind being trapped between them. Lower and lower, his gaze went from your pretty legs to your varnished toes. Back up, it went as you turned off the stove and approached the table. You weren't wearing a bra under the t-shirt, as your nipples poked through the thin fabric.

Han's glad he didn't notice these things last night, or he wouldn't have been able to sleep a wink. Spreading his legs, he tried to hide the hard-on he was sporting. None the wiser, you sit on the empty chair near him and tell him to eat up.

Shooing the dirty thoughts from his mind, Han thanks you one more time and digs in. It's a lovely morning, with light chatter bouncing between you. Han praises your cooking every chance he gets and even finishes the pancakes you left over but not before drenching them in more syrup. When both of you are done, you clear the plates and place them in the sink to wash.

"Angel, come 'ere," Han calls from behind you.

Mindlessly you walk over to him, wondering what he wants. Han grabs your waist, pulling you to his lap. "Han, what are you doing? I have to do the dishes!" You squeal, holding onto him, afraid he'd let you fall.

"No, you don't," he speaks softly, one hand cupping your cheek.

"I don't?" you prompt, leaning into his touch.

"Let me properly thank you," he offers, lips chasing yours. Han can't contain himself any longer. You've done a number on him, strutting around his kitchen in your underwear. He wants you. He needs you.

You lean into the kiss as you always do, pouring everything you have into it. Tasting the coffee on his tongue, you bring your hand around the back of his neck, softly tugging the long strands of hair. Han groans into the kiss, having missed that sensation.

Repositioning yourself, you straddle Han in the rickety kitchen chair. You feel his hands all over your body, trailing down your back to grasp your ass in his palms. Every so often, you'd resurface to breathe but dip down again and again to continue kissing him.

Han feels himself harden as you rub your center against him deliciously. It's clear as day you want him just as much as he wants you.

"Want to spoil me and fuck me?" You breathe heavily, kissing Han's neck.

"So bold," Han chuckles, his hands wandering under the t-shirt to feel your warm skin, his nails faintly scratching your back, sending shivers down your spine. "Six months ago, you would've been too scared to ask me that."

Six months ago, you would've been too scared to kiss him on the cheek, but you've come a long way. As time passes, you realize your feelings are not one-sided because Han means every word he speaks to you despite his taunting nature. Each and every complement is honest.

"I got tired of waiting around for you," you bite back, nipping his neck and sucking a pretty bruise on it.

Han hisses at the momentary sting, "I thought I was just a friend?"

You laugh sarcastically, picking your head up to stare at him, "I don't let friends kiss me or grope my ass."

"What does that make me then?" Han raises an eyebrow, cheekily squeezing your ass as a smirk forms on his lips.

"Special," you shrug, lips pouty and swollen.

"Because?" He wants to hear you say that you feel something for him. It's a last hurrah on giving you a hard time for fun.

You realize it's time to be honest and come out with it. You stopped hiding your feelings a while ago. Hell, you even asked Han to fuck you. All that's left is to admit your feeling out loud. "Because I have feelings for you, Han Lue," you whisper, brushing the hair that threatens to fall over his eyes.

"That's all you had to say," Han murmurs, catching your lips in a passionate kiss.

The heat rises with each passing moment. Your feelings have now come to a boil and bubbled over. Han picks you up easily and sits you on the kitchen table. He leaves his touch on your naked back to trace the outside of your thighs. It's time to give you precisely what you asked for and what he has been fantasizing about for far too long.

Grabbing the elastic band of your panties, Han slides them down the curve of your ass and your thighs until they are off. He throws them somewhere in the room, the information unimportant for now.

"Han, please," you whine, spreading your legs wider and giving him access to your most private part. You beg between kisses to feel his touch where you need it most.

"So impatient, Angel." Han jabs lightly as his right-hand touches the inside of your thigh. The pads of his fingers brush over your thighs repeatedly, nearing the apex more and more with each stroke.

You gasp as he finally dips a finger into your folds, gathering the slick that formed to spread it around your bundle of nerves. You gasp, breaking the kiss and throwing your head back.

Han sucks on your neck and collarbones as you moan into the air. Slipping a finger into your tight walls, he groans, thinking about how they'll feel around his hard cock.

"Fuck, Han, feels so good," you sigh when Han adds another digit into your soaking core and presses on your clit with his thumb.

"I didn't realize I made you this wet," he says into your neck as you grind your hips into his hand. You must've been wanting this for as long as he has.

"Liar," you respond, staring at him with hooded eyes. The nights you've touched yourself while thinking about him are many. The real thing is a million times better.

Han watches you intently, catching every little reaction you have to his touch. The moans and whines echo through the room and are music to his ears. Without a doubt, there's a wet patch in his boxers as his tip leaks precum from the erotic sight in front of him.

Your walls clenching around him alert him you're close, and promptly after you make it known as you beg him not to stop, except he doesn't listen and stops just as you're about to cum.

"Why did you stop?" You complain, eyes wide in desperate need.

"Want you to cum on my tongue," he responds, stealing a quick kiss before he kneels on the floor. Wrapping his strong arms around your thighs, he scoots you closer to the edge.

His words shoot another current down your legs, no doubt making more of a mess. You wait with bated breath as Han kisses the inside of your thighs, making eye contact with you as he delves into your pussy.

He licks up from your hole up to your clit. You grasp his hair with one hand, pulling the t-shirt up with the other to better look at him going down on you. Your eyes roll involuntarily when Han wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. His long fingers find your opening once more, sliding in effortlessly.

You try to maintain eye contact with Han through it all. If his hair fell on his eyes, you'd quickly brush it back, not wanting to miss his lustful gaze. It spurred Han on to see you crumbling over him, biting your lip as you tried to hide the pretty cries that wanted to fall from your lips.

Han stops licking your clit and slows his thrusting fingers each time you near your orgasm. Time and time again, he repeats this when you're near the edge. Only when your arousal coats his hand he keeps his pace, and as you whine out, 'gonna cum, don't stop,' he slips his tongue into your pussy, tasting your cum directly from the source.

He makes a great example of what his nose can do as it brushes over your clit while he tongue fucks you. You trap Han between your legs as your pussy clenches, your orgasm coming in waves. As you relax back onto the kitchen table, Han continues to lick your puffy center, being careful with your sensitive nub.

When he stands, you fist his t-shirt, smashing your lips together, tasting your essence. "Let's take this to the bedroom," Han pants. You nod eagerly and squeal when he picks you up, your legs wrapped around his waist.

You leave a trail of kisses on his neck as he makes his way to the bedroom. Once there, you both fall on the bed, Han hovering over you. He tugs on your t-shirt, "As much as I love seeing you in my clothes, this has to come off."

Without the shirt, he can admire your naked body. A lone finger slides down from your neck to your sternum. It slides to your side near the curve of your left breast, where a small sakura flower is tattooed.

"This is my new favorite thing about you," Han softly says, noticing you staring at him.

The tattoo was an impulsive thing to do. You had wanted a tattoo for years but never knew what to get. After your last breakup two years ago, you got the little flower instead of getting bangs and dying your hair. It has no real meaning to you. It's just a cute flower.

"You're the first to see it since I got it done," you tell him, a laugh bubbling from your lips as his touch on your ribs tickles.

"And I hope it stays that way," he responds. It's an unspoken promise. He wants you all to himself for the foreseeable future.

His finger continues the trajectory down your tummy, lightly going over your belly button before it traces over your mound and dips to touch your clit.

You gasp at the surge of pleasure as your clit remains sensitive from his previous actions. "Gotta say it's not fair that I'm the only one naked," you moan when Han continues to circle your nub.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Han incites you to see what you'll do.

Any remaining shyness you had is long gone as lust replaces it. You kneel in front of Han, who leans back to watch you. Your chest is close to his face, so when you lean closer to grab the hem of his shirt, he sucks one of your nipples. 

"Han," you whine, arching your back," "Stop distracting me."

Ignoring his mouth on you, you grab his shirt and pull it off. Successfully making him stop his attack on your breasts. You peck his lips and kiss down his jaw.

You take your time kissing his toned chest and stomach. You wish to memorize every part of him. "You're so handsome, Han," you purr, glancing up at him.

Those simple words that spilled from your mouth made his heart flutter. Han is used to being the one to dish out compliments and praise the women he's with. To have you say that is like a breath of fresh air, and he can't wait to have more.

"Fuck, Angel," he groans, grasping your chin. You kiss his palm with a smile that's equally angelic and devilish.

You want to peel two more layers off Han's body and decide to do it all at once. Grasping the band of his pants and boxers, you slowly pull them down, building anticipation.

His cock springs out of its confines, landing on Han's abdomen. You don't hide your curious gaze as you take in his cock. It's so big it makes you bite your lip in anticipation. The tip is a dark pink as it drips with precum.

After you remove his pants entirely, you grasp his cock, feeling the warmth and weight of it. Han breathes out through his nose, a futile attempt to keep his cool. A string of saliva drips from your lips, coating his hard length. Each stroke you made caused a bead of pre to spill from him.

You take it as an invitation to taste him, wrapping your lips around his head your tongue licks the beads of white. 

Han does the impossible not to push your head down to take all of him. The thought is present, though. You've barely teased him compared to how he teased you, but Han can no longer resist. 

"I need you," Han groans, calling out your name, not the nickname you've been donned for the past three years.

You don't take it for granted. Hearing your name sends you into overdrive. Han pulls you up to kiss you and lies you down on the top of the bed. He comfortably gets between your legs that hug his waist to bring him closer. His cock brushes your wet pussy, and you both hiss at the sensation. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the thought of having Han fill you entirely.

"You ready, Angel?" Han asks you. One arm holding him up and the other wrapped around your thigh, giving you a comforting squeeze. Time stops ticking at that moment. It's just you and Han wrapped in each other. 

"I've been ready for the past month, Han. Fuck me, please," you plead quietly, your fingertips running up and down his back. 

"Just because you said, please." Han lines his cock up to your entrance and pushes past your lips into your warm center. Relief floods through the both of you, but it soon dissipates, and it's replaced by waves of unfiltered lust.

Han starts fucking into you deep, at the perfect pace. Your eyes involuntarily close as you feel Han's cock stretching you open and filling you like never before. Han kisses your temple and releases sexy moans into your ear with words of encouragement.

'Such a tight pussy just for me.'

'Taking me so good, Angel.'

'Can't get enough of you.'

You echo his words, encouraging him to keep fucking you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to hold on to anything, and your heels dig into his lower back. The closeness between you is intoxicating, your scents mixing and becoming one, his hair ticking your face, his warm skin heating up yours. 

Han slows the pace momentarily, leaning back on his knees to see your pretty cunt taking his cock. He wants to commit to memory how your pussy spreads to make way for his cock, a white ring on the base of his cock, and how your little clit is exposed and vulnerable to his touch.

The other girls he's slept with only got part of his attention and dedication. He didn't mean to make a huge impression. He only did his job, often choosing to lie back and let them do as they pleased with him. 

With you, it's different. He wants to give you his all and leave a great impression. He'll do all the work; you can just take it if that's what you want. That's the difference between you and the other girls. He lived to spoil you.

Meanwhile, you fall apart under him, moaning incoherent phrases he can barely make out. He loves hearing them, though. You reach for Han's hand as he increases his pace and grips it tightly.

Han slips his cock out of you, wanting to make his fantasy a reality. You shudder at the empty feeling and whine, "No, don't stop." 

"Come on, Angel. Get on your knees," Han coo's at you, kissing your pouty lips. "Promise you'll cum soon."

Han positions you on your knees, your back arched as your tits rub against the bed sheets. You huff through it all, desperate to have him pounding into you again. He smacks your ass when you wiggle it to get him to do what you want.

Han enters you in one smooth motion, this position amplifying your pleasure as he hits the spongy spot inside of you more directly.

"Han!" You cry out, fisting the sheets underneath you. 

"I'm right here, Angel," Han breathes, snapping his hips rhythmically. 

Just as he visualized, he grabs your hips in his large hands and digs his thumbs into the dimples on your back. With a tight hold, he thrusts into you unrelentingly, and you push back onto him just as eagerly. Your cries are muffled by the pillow you're hugging to your face.

Your pussy swallows him with each thrust, even as it clenches to prepare for orgasm. He can't hold back any longer as his balls clench with each faltering thrust, and your walls squeeze him tighter than ever.

" 'm cumming," you squeal, your legs tense up and shake. Your walls contract and release in a rhythmic motion that sends Han over the edge, your name on the tip of his tongue.

Han pulls out of you, helping you get back onto a comfortable position, and lies beside you, catching his breath. He turns to look at you, and you do the same. You can't hold his gaze long as you furiously blush.

Han laughs, grabbing your hand to lace your fingers together. "You can't get shy now!"

"I can't control it!" You exclaim, hiding your face with the same pillow as earlier. 

The rest of the day is spent in bed. Han ignores his daily responsibilities and stays in, getting lost in your touch and making promises he hopes to keep.

One Year and a Half Later...

You drive up to the empty parking complex. It's similar to the one you spend your nights on. Driving up the floors, you find Han where he told you he'd be. He leans against the familiar orange car, a bag of chips in his hands. A nice lather jacket covers his arms, making you smile when you remember how he got it in the first place.

"Hey, you wanted to meet me here?" You question, getting out of your car.

Approaching him, you kiss his salty lips and wait for an explanation regarding the random meet-up spot. In the entire year and a half of you dating, he's never asked you such a weird request.

"You feeling up to race?" Han asks you, holding your hand in his.

It's been years since the two of you met, and for the same amount of time, people have been pining you two to race. He denied every request, including the ones you threw every once in a while.

"It's about time," you exclaim, excitement filling your body. "What's at stake?"

There is something up Han's sleeve. You know that much. There is something he wants from you if he suddenly wants to race you. He could just ask. You'll give him everything he desires. You play along, though.

"Winner gets the other's car," he offers, pushing himself off the car to wrap his arms around you to hug you, his thumb soothingly brushing over the spot where your tattoo is. He last saw you when you left for your new engineering job early in the morning.

"You're willing to sacrifice your car?" You chuckle, implying you are going to win.

"It's only fair," he shrugs, kissing your cheek.

With one last peck, he lets you go and gets in his car. You follow his lead, lining up your car to the imaginary starting line. Han sets up a timer, and once it went off, both cars lurched forward at high speeds. 

You focus on the race, forgetting it's Han you're competing with. You've been dying to go against him for so long, desperate to find out who was the better racer between the two. 

As expected, Han makes it hard for you. The race is neck and neck as you drift up the floors of the building. Whenever Han takes the lead, you find a way to get ahead. You see the end near, and Han threatens to surpass you, but with one last boost, you keep your position, winning the race.

You leap out of your car, feeling the high of the race. No one has kept you on your toes for so long. It's a satisfying win. Han walks out of his car more calmly, smiling, happy to see you celebrate. It didn't matter to him that you were better. You deserved it.

"I can't believe I won," you exclaim, jumping into his arms as he spins you around.

"I can, and I'm so proud," Han says, kissing all over your face.

The race's prize is forgotten as you celebrate, but Han reminds you by handing you his keys, "A deal is a deal." You take the keys from him as a mere formality. You're not taking Han's precious car. Racing him is enough for you.

The weight of the keys is strange to you. They tend to be much heavier. Opening your palm to inspect them, you see that his keychains and spare keys are missing. In their place is a diamond ring.

"Han, what-" you stutter, whipping up to look at him.

"My car is yours. I figured I could be yours too. Will you marry me?" Han takes the keys from you, getting down on one knee and removing the ring from the holder. 

From all the possible scenarios you had in mind from this clandestine meeting, Han's proposal was not one of them. Nevertheless, you have your answer instantly.

"Yes," you nod, choking back a sob.

Han grabs your hand and slides the ring onto your fourth finger. It's a perfect fit, just like Han. You drop down in front of Han, ignoring the dirty floor, to kiss and hug him.

Han kisses away your tears, a smile permanently etched on his face. He never thought he'd see the day he would settle down, but this past year has been near perfection with you, and he doesn't see himself with anyone else.

"Did you let me win to set this up?" You ask him later that night. His arms are wrapped tightly around you as you lie on his chest.

"No," he answers simply, kissing your head.

"You let me win," you then say assertively.

"No, I did not, Angel," he answers again, hiding his smile in your hair.

"I don't believe you. We have to race again," you tell him, lifting your head to glance at him.

"I don't have a reason to. I've got everything I want right here. Take the win, Angel," Han tells you sweetly, his fingers playing with your ring.

"For now," you huff, settling back down and cuddling up to him.

Fin. 

thank you for reading! i didn't mean for it to be this long although i'm sure you guys are not complaining!

this was so much fun to write. guys like i am in love with han lue, i've spent hours on tiktok watching han lue and sung kang edits. i need help! tell me i'm not the only one like this!

requests are still open ❤️

[fairuzfan]

Im not good at writing but ill try putting it in words.

I think US americans don't realise how jaded the rest of the world is now to their performativity of impartiality and rationality. They still have the comfort of relying on proper debate and argument and being on the moral highground bc of this. Vetoing ceasefires because theyre trying to arrive at the 'best' solutions. Voting for Biden because he has still done good and is the lesser evil. Clutching pearls at antizionism because its racist and antisemtic.

The rest of the world cant afford to come into a formal argument at their level and they just don't understand that. They don't understand that at the hands of their comfort of proper statesmanship, the rest of the world suffers greatly. Tell me, why is it that one vote against many other countries, is enough to veto a ceasefire.

Why do the rest of us have to meet on the level of our enemy, the one who has rigged the game for them to win? You crush others to their lowest and hound them to still get up and hit better punches. We know our enemy, and realise they are sick and depraved for this.

America land of the great and free.

there's something to be said with people's blatant admission these past few months that they never seriously considered foreign policy while voting, thinking of it as a secondary issue rather than probably one of the most important issues you should care about considering the american government can decide whether or not to decimate entire cultures. there has been no examination about foreign policy other than "isis/taliban/al-qaeda bad" regarding swana especially for the past few presidencies. its been fairly a bipartisan issue to bomb swana countries. and that's only swana.

[holylulusworld]

Band-aids

Summary: Your alpha needs you.

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Warnings: a little injury, dramatic omega, overprotective omega, fluff, pregnant omega

“Doll?! Y/N, where is the sanitizer?” Bucky calls for you from the bathroom. “Baby? Omega?”

Your alpha gasps as you storm into the bathroom. Your eyes are wild, you’re panting heavily, and your scent changed. Bucky can smell it; you’re worried about him.

Bucky watches you open the medicine cabinet, hating that you are worried about him now. “Y/N.” He tries to calm you. “Doll?”

“What happened? Where is your injury? Are you bleeding? Is it a cut? Do I need to call an ambulance?” As you turn around, the sanitizer, band-aids, and sterile swabs in your hands, you make your way toward Bucky. He sits on the edge of the large bathtub he installed some months ago.

“It’s nothing, omega. Just a scratch,” he mumbles. “You need to calm down. I can check on the cut, okay.”

“No! I’ve got this!” You step between his spread legs to get a better look at the cut above his left brow. “How did this happen? Did someone hurt you?”

Bucky knows you are about to cry and sighs deeply. You knit your brows together, debating whether to call a doctor or not.

“Omega, baby. I already cleaned the cut with water, and it stopped bleeding,” Bucky softly speaks to you. Your alpha takes the sanitizer out of your hands to clean the wound. “It’s a scratch. I’ll live.”

“I’ll decide if it’s only a scratch.” Carefully cupping Bucky’s jaw, you tilt his head to get a good look at the cut. You hum. He’s right. The cut is small, and the wound stopped bleeding. Still, you are worried.

“It was an accident. Alpine jumped at me, and I turned my head at the wrong moment. He hit me with one of his claws.”

“Alpine hurt you?”

“It’s nothing, doll,” Bucky gently places his hand on your swollen belly. “You shouldn’t worry so much about me. I’m still…a super-soldier and my healing is…”

“A wound is a wound, James Buchanan Barnes. A scratch or not.”

Bucky doesn’t want you to get mad at him or worry you even more. The truth is that he slipped on the ladder and hit his head.

“It’s almost healed, doll. I only wanted to clean it again before the wound closes completely.”

“Hmm…this doesn’t look like a scratch from Alpine,” you wonder aloud. “Alpha.” You use his presentation on purpose. “Did you lie to me?”

“I-uh…” Bucky starts to sweat. He clears his throat and tries to win a moment to find a better lie to explain what happened. “I—sorry. I wanted to fix the creaking door of the wall cupboard. Alpine jumped at me, and I slipped…and fell. I hit my head on the counter.”

“OH, MY GOD! We need to go to the hospital. Right now. I’ll get the car and—” Bucky stops you from dragging him out of the bathroom. He gets up and wraps his arms around you.

“Baby doll, I hit my head more than once over the years. I got punched, thrown around, and slammed into walls.” You inhale sharply. “I’m sorry for worrying and lying to you. I promise it’s nothing.”

“You got hurt. That’s not nothing, Buck.” You hide your face in his chest, stiffling a sob. “I can’t let you get hurt.”

“And I love you for it.” He nuzzles your hair. “Let’s get you to bed. It’s late and I scared you. Let me check on you and little Bucky.”

You nod against him. “What about the wound?”

“It’s closed, Y/N,” he whispers. Bucky kisses your forehead, and you relax in his arms. “I promise you don’t need to worry about me.”

Bucky smiles as you tell him you like taking care of him. He hums and smiles widely. 

Of course, he doesn’t want you to worry about him, but it makes his heart flutter knowing you love taking care of him…

Tags in reblog.

[19burstraat]

ketterdam dashboard simulator

goedmedbridge420

who up boeking they canal

10,345 notes

drydens follow

I can't believe some of you log on here and thirstpost about barrel vagrants. it makes me so sick. these men are the very pits of society and have never honoured ghezen a day in their lives. there are so many other young men who make their living in a reverent way. have some dignity.

#ghezen #inghezenssight #ghezenhonouring #churchofghezen #handofghezen

2 notes

kooperomno1fan

lionsroar12 follow

omg HOW is kaz brekker winning this he's SO problematic he's not even good for the economy he killed members of his own gang and kidnapped councilman van eck's son

dregsundrained

cranky coz your gang fell apart aren't you

17,860 notes

oskervoexchange follow

guys is this a mandela effect or what bc I SWEAR this painting used to be in the university district art museum, I literally saw it this week??? but I went today and it was GONE?????? there wasn't even a plaque?? guys pls I'm so confused why is everyone acting like this is normal for ketterdam? do priceless antiques just VANISH? am I being gaslit?

450 notes

stadhall-clerking

guys I'm so sorry I've been MIA :( I found out that my landlord was using my rent on the staves rather than fixing my black mould problem so I pushed him out the window and told the stadwatch he must have fallen and died because he wasn't honouring ghezen and got away with it. anyway I think maybe the black mould explains the dirtyhands/sturmhond fic I was writing sorry :( but I WILL finish my fairy queen of istamere meta post once I've moved into my new lodging

670 notes

dregsconfessions follow

SUBMISSION: sometimes I lie awake thinking about the time I fell down an entire flight of stairs at the slat when kaz was at the bottom, and he just stared at me (still lying on the floor), and then asked if I'd changed the beer kegs at the silver six yet. GIRL NO?!?!?!

#submission #dregs #dirtyhands #admin comment: laughed so loud my upstairs neighbour threatened to shoot me

546 notes

dregsconfessions follow

ADMIN NOTE: if the razorgulls don't fucking stop sending anon hate to this blog we'll tell dirtyhands n he'll send you your own IP address back

#see what happens you hack job seagulls

500 notes

kerchtourismboard

it's us, the real kerch tourism board, here to tell you what we're putting in the new summer season pamphlet. we got 1) three pages all about kaz brekker that end up being more of an advertisement than a deterrent 2) list of slipperiest spots in the barrel where you will fall over and get a concussion when ur drunk 3) top 10 ways to get your wallet stolen by a child in broad daylight 4) paintings of the komedie brute 5) advert for sten's stockpot 6) map of public toilets

570 notes

kerchtourismboardreal follow

we are not affiliated with any degenerate impersonator accounts who claim to be us. we are the only real kerch tourism account.

23 notes

kerchtourismboard-real follow

grafcanal smells like piss and you should bite everyone you see wearing the mister crimson costume

450 notes

stensstockpot follow

it's all 'fuck sten's stockpot' and 'I got food poisoning from the special at sten's stockpot' until you realise you don't have the money for cilla's fry, and then you come CRAWLING back to the loving arms of sten's stockpot and our special. you fucking traitors. you'll be back! you'll all be back

canaljumpings follow

what's in the special sten's stockpot

stensstockpot follow

it's a surprise ;)

bertskerch follow

nah I thought this was the real stens lmao

stensstockpot follow

bert smit you still have 45 kruge to pay on your tab and if you don't cough up we'll send our debtors to break your legs

230 notes

exchangingbabey follow

my grisha girlfriend who still wears a kefta and says things like 'nikolai lantsov is a bastard': ugh they're still debating whether or not the council of tides should be able to control kerch shipping, I hate inter-country politics

me: I think I hauve the queen's lady

4500 notes

(insp) (insp)

[qqueenofhades]

can you assuage my creeping fear about the debate between harris and trump? my brain is like. the media will be salivating over any chance to get the story HARRIS FLUBS THE DEBATE MORE AT 6 unless she's 100% perfect for it. i keep telling myself that she's an incredibly seasoned prosecutor who knows exactly what to do to unravel these sorts of people, she has plenty of time to prepare, he's completely gone over the edge into incoherence most of the time, but i also keep thinking of how, after weeks of her absolutely pile-driving the republican party, the media will be circling for any mistake, mis-step, or imperfection to blow out of proportion to make it seem like she's failing. i guess what i'm afraid of is the other shoe dropping? or the bubble bursting? i'm afraid of this hope?

i was barely aware of obama in 2008, too young to vote and not paying attention, so i don't know how this kind of momentum turned into the juggernaut that got him elected. i know you believe that the same can happen here, how did he take on the predatory press?

Well, first, we need to recognize that the media treatment of the debate WILL be wildly unfair, full stop. If Trump shows up and puts on pants, he will be applauded by the media, because they have the lowest imaginable bar where he is concerned and everything that would have been multiply-disqualifying for any other candidate makes them just shrug and find a way to make excuses for him. So yes, he will literally be congratulated if he shows up on September 10, because that is how the media works. See: three relentless weeks of bullying Biden out of the race after the bad debate, barely mentioning Trump's equally insane diatribes at the same debate, and now, when he's gone full-on demented and is raving about AI-generated crowds at Kamala's events? Nary a peep. Lol.

However, the main narrative that's emerging from the Harris takeover is that voters and the media are miles apart on where they actually see this race going, and without the media's favorite chew toy of Biden's shortcomings, it has become increasingly difficult to avoid focusing on Trump's flaws, even tangentially. See the mainstream media reporters whining constantly that Harris hasn't given them a press conference and congratulating Trump for lying to them nonstop for an hour; they simply have no frame of reference that's remotely useful, because they are so beholden to making Trump look like a normal candidate and focusing on Harris's "flaws" as if they are remotely comparable to his. But at the same time, there has been a far heightened level of pushback on this BS manipulation, and everybody can see through it, precisely because the media and/or the right-wing smear machine has tried this so many times before and their tactics are now completely transparent. Ordinary voters don't give a shit whether Harris WiLl tAkE qUesTioNs fRoM tHe mEdiA; they're too busy flooding her campaign with donations, attending her rallies, signing up for volunteer shifts, and so forth. In fact, the reason the media is trying SO HARD to kill her momentum is because they, like Trump, rely on doing so. The more they try and don't succeed, the more panicked they'll get. We have to prepare for that, and we have to have her back.

That said, we should recall that Harris easily crushed Pence in their debate in 2020, and Pence was actually halfway presentable at it compared to Trump (which is a low bar, but still). The way Trump "wins" is that he just repeats a lot of lies forcefully and over and over, which Biden was ill-prepared to counter because he has a far more deliberate and decisive speaking style (related to stutter/speech difficulties, temperament as a politician, etc). Everything that I have seen from the Harris campaign in terms of communication so far, however, has been the exact kind of clapback that makes Trump look stupid and which shows that they are very attuned to the kind of strategies that work against that nonsensical bullying Gish gallop. Therefore, I have to trust that they have INTENSIVELY studied what went wrong with Biden/Trump in June, and also empowered Kamala to do what she does in her fashion and which has been extremely successful thus far at knocking down Trump's BS. Also, she's just a better and more fluent communicator than Biden, she looks and sounds more energetic, and those stupid aesthetic Vibes are half of the battle when it comes to convincing the public.

Also, we should recognize that Trump looked deeply creepy on stage at the debates with HRC in 2016, and that was when he was downright sane compared to now. He stalked her, he stood behind her, he rolled his eyes, he bullied her, and people noticed that (he subsequently won the election, yes, but if nothing else, 2024 feels nothing like 2016). If he has to stand on stage with a black woman kicking his ass, after his appearance at the NABJ event in Chicago quickly became a touchstone for how badly he fucked it up, he is going to just look BAD, and when that's the case, people will immediately fit it into the existing narrative (that he's scared of Harris and deeply racist and unglued). You can also play your part in making sure it does. At least half of the Bidengate furor came from Democrats melting down and yelling about it afterward, and that led into the knives-out media coverage that spiraled for 3.5 weeks until Biden withdrew. We can, yknow, NOT DO THAT this time!

So: yeah. We have to be aware that yes, the media coverage of the debate will find absolutely every excuse to praise Trump and bash Harris, because that's just baked in. However, we can also understand that there's a wide-and-getting-wider CHASM between how ordinary voters see things right now and how the media is desperate to play it, and the more transparent they get, the more easily we are able to call it out. (See Lawrence O'Donnell's rant the other night.) We are going to have to keep doing that and not let up, but it's not going to go well for Trump either way and it's still an open question as to whether he even shows up after trying SO hard to dodge. It's not out of the question that he'll announce on September 4 that by Harris not showing up to the Fox debate she never agreed to and which exists only in his deluded mind, he doesn't have to do the same on September 10. He is a scared fucking orange chickenshit who KNOWS he's badly outmatched against Harris and whose entire campaign strategy at this point relies on lying low and trying not to make voters remember again how much they hate him, which is already backfiring. And with your help, we can make him MORE scared all the way to prison. Let's do it.