#best penn form

[thecobrah]

You should draw princess Penn :]

[lilac-5ky]

Father's Day (Toji xFem!Reader)

Summary: It's father's day and you forgot to get Toji his gift.

Tags: dilf Toji, babysitter reader, secret relationship, age gap (reader early 20s, Toji early 30s), daddy kink, breeding kink, lactation kink, spanking, mating press, mention of doggy style, cumplay, blowjob, gagging, deep throating, creampie, heavy usage of pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel, slut, etc), soft!dom Toji being a condescending piece of shit, Megumi being an absolute angel, hope i'm not forgetting anything, pls don't murder me.

Word Count: 4.3k divided between fluff and smut.

“That’s it, Megs! You did so well today!” You smiled, giving the boy’s spikes a little affectionate ruffle. “I’m sure your dad will be so happy to see how hard you worked on his gift.”

“Liar.” Megumi put the glue stick face-down against the table. “It’s not as good as the ones you make, Y/N.”

“That’s because I’ve put years into it, you know? When you get older, I’m sure you’ll be the one teaching me.” You promised, holding his drawing toward the light.

The pasta on the paper depicted the face of a silly-looking man; chopped lasagna for his dark hair, spinach-flavored shells for his green eyes, penne for the jagged scar on his fusilli lips, and broken spaghetti to help frame the sharp edges of his chiseled jaw. The inscription “World’s Best Dad” was written at the bottom corner by yours truly, Megumi being too young to know the proper spelling.

Admittedly, it looked nothing like Toji, but even if you got the man himself to pose for your DIY project, you doubted you’d get any closer to capturing his charms. At least it resembled a human being, and that was the core difference between based on and loosely inspired by.

Megumi jumped from his stool and waved his hands before you, his fingers stuck together as if he were a duckling. You chuckled, meaning to settle the drawing on the table so you could escort him to the bathroom when you heard keys twisting in the door lock.

“Quick, go wash your hands and I’ll take care of your daddy, okay?”

Megumi nodded, dashing upstairs in seconds while you browsed the kitchen for a hiding spot, panicking as a couple of macaroni were chipped off. You grabbed the glue and hastily pieced them back in place, but it was too late. A pair of strong arms snaked around your waist, pressing you flush against an unmovable wall of muscle.

“T-Toji!”

Your yelp was silenced by his lips, hungry from having to spend an entire day filling forms and sorting mail at a work he despised with every inch of his being— some of those very inches poking against your ass as his hips bucked into yours almost possessively. Coming home to the cute little babysitter he’d made his girlfriend was everything he needed to recharge his batteries.

“Meg-gu…mi will see us,” you panted in between heated kisses, trying and mostly failing to defend your body from his greedy palms diving into your shorts.

He felt your skin flare up, so sensitive for him even after countless days of the same ritual. His index pried beneath your panties —the lacy ones he’d gotten you for your birthday— to meet with your pussy’s puffy lips, gliding across the gathering slick as if he meant to say “Hello”. His thumb rubbed a rough circle over your clit, giving the nub a few teasing flicks that were enough for you to arch your back against his chest, a hushed moan bitten into his neck. He chuckled to himself as he retracted his fingers and gingerly licked them one by one.

“Missed ya so much, angel,” Toji coed in a low voice. “Y’always taste sweeter when I’m not around, know that?”

You giggled against his mouth, his tongue eager to share your essence. “How would you know that if you’re away?”

“I just do,” he smiled, putting an end to the unforeseen display of affection with a gentle kiss on your cheek. “Where’s Megumi?” he searched through the space.

You moved in accordance with his eyes, swaying left and right to cover as much of the table as possible. “He’s in the bathroom. Washing his hands for dinner.”

Toji hummed, thumbing his tie loose around his neck. He could hate his job all he wanted, but nothing compared to the sight of seeing Fushiguro Toji in office attire. His sleeves were rolled around his elbows, toned biceps popping under the tight fabric of his white button-up. He paired straight black pants with a plain black belt— nothing impressive on its own until he bent over the lower cabinets to grab himself a glass, and you stole a quick peek at his rare and the impossible way the fabric hugged his—

In any case, you were convinced Toji had somehow missed Megumi’s drawing, his primary interest to fill and then refill his glass with fresh tap water. You seized the chance to transfer his gift to a safer location, though before you could take another step, he grabbed your wrist and forced your hand into play.

He studied his own face harder than your art professors evaluated your semester’s projects, his nose scrunching up at the finer details of his farfalle ears. “That why I pay your tuition for?” He snorted at you snatching the art piece from his hands.

“Better act excited when Megs comes here,” you straightened the creased edges and stored it in an empty drawer. “He’s already doubting his talent.”

“His what?”

He assured you he was just joking when you shot him a mean glare, your voice strict as you ushered him to follow his son’s example while you hurriedly collected the art supplies and replaced them with cutlery.

In no time, the three of you were seated around the table— Megumi on your lap while you cut his pork into bite-sized pieces, and Toji on the other side, wishing that their positions would switch. You swore this man got ten times handsier after you got together, seeking excuses to touch you even in front of his own kid. Megumi had just turned four but at this rate, it wouldn’t take long for such a bright kid to put two and two together.

The decision to keep it a secret was mutual (read: one vote for, and another against). There was no reason to disturb Megumi’s routine or throw him off balance. You’d grown fond of the little guy, and with his dad being away 2/3 of the day, you were each other’s only company. No matter how well things with Toji were going, if you suddenly fell apart, the one to hurt the most would be Megumi and you didn’t want that weight on your conscience. Being his number 1 nanny was good enough.

A certain type of silence familiar to the Fushiguro household shrouded dinnertime, with Toji trying to engage Megumi in small talk, and Megumi constantly glancing over his shoulder at you as if you were his designated spokesperson. “Yes, Megumi had a lot of fun today.” “Yes, Megumi ate all of his veggies at lunch, even the icky red peppers.” “No, Megumi knows nothing about the neighbor’s broken window.” The boy was relieved with every blatant lie you told his father, his knees gleefully flapping against your own.

By the time their plates were emptied, your food had gone completely cold, the oil in the curry sauce encasing the cutlet in a greasy coat. You gobbled it up as it was and stacked the plates into a pile that you placed in the sink, signaling for Megumi to come over. You handed him his drawing, encouraged him with two thumbs up, and sent him off to his “unsuspecting” father.

Your lips stretched into a smile as Megumi presented his drawing, mumbling a strained “Happy Father’s Day” under his breath as if he had a gun pointed at his head. So stubborn, though you could definitely see where he took it from, Toji’s reply being an equally stern “Thanks, kiddo”. You rolled your eyes and rushed to the scene, praising a blushing Megumi over his artwork and exaggerating his achievements to Toji who just wouldn’t take a hint. How these two managed to survive by themselves, was a wonder on its own.

Eventually, Toji gave his son a more fatherly rub on the back and hoisted the boy over his shoulders to lead him to his bedroom. Megumi squeaked, planting his tiny fingers into Toji’s hair, and clasped his legs tight around his neck. You remembered a meek confession from a few nights ago, muffled out by the covers and the plush toy over his mouth, as he let you in on how fun mounting his father was, feeling like a real mecha pilot atop his broad shoulders. He could be such a sweet kid when he wanted to. If only he was more vocal with Toji, too.

You watched the two disappear up the stairs and picked the drawing from the table, pinning it in the middle of the fridge for the world to see. You rinsed the pots with hot water and shoved them into the dishwater rack, figuring it’d be best to get as much work done as you could in Toji’s absence.

“This is the last one,” you said once the sound of feet thudding against the stairs became apparent.

You made quick work of the glass, rotating the sponge inside out, while the man leaned against the door frame without saying a thing, content with being a bystander to your impromptu clean-up session. Many a woman passed Toji’s threshold, some older, others younger, and yet you were the first to worry about the state of his bundle-bought glasses. He couldn’t pinpoint what made such a mundane sight endearing to behold, but maybe it was because of the very commonness and familiarity behind it that he hesitated to interrupt.

“Meg’s asleep?” You caught his reflection nodding through the glass, your following questions answered the same way.

“You got him in his pj’s? The blue, not the green ones, right? Got him to brush his teeth? Turned on the night light for him? Gave him his—”

A sigh echoed as he stepped into the space with his hands lost in his pockets. “How d’ya do that?”

“Do what?”

“The kid, the house,” he paused to measure his words, “me. How do you handle all that?”

Your lips pursed into an affectionate simper as you wiped your hands against the towel, looping it around the cabinet’s handle. You turned to face him and lifted your forefinger playfully. “One, the kid happens to have a very attractive father. Two, the house owner himself is sexy as hell, and you? I guess you are pretty easy on the eye.”

“Am I now?” His raspy tone was set on confirming every last impression you had of him, his tongue licking his slanted scar into a smile that was all but coy. “Which one you prefer then? The father, the house owner, or me?”

“Hmm, if I had to pick just one then,” your cheeks burned prior to your admission. “The version of you I get to call daddy.”

Satisfied with your answer, Toji pinched your chin between two fingers, admiring how eagerly your mouth popped open as the pad of his thumb swiped against your bottom lip, pushing slightly in. “Smart girl,” he cooed, feeling out the flat surface of your tongue, hot, warm, and oh-so-perfect when pressed against his cock.

“So what did you get me?” he smeared saliva over your lips, making them all nice and glossy. You stood still, faded eyes caught in the motion of his other palm shamelessly cupping your ass, his question barely registering.

“W-what?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me, you know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.” His fingers dug into the fat of your cheek, a warning in his voice. “Where’s my gift?”

“S-sorry, Toji. Didn’t think I had to—” A light smack cut your sentence in half, the recoil forcing you to drop onto his chest.

“Mm? What is it that y’are sorry for, princess?” He mocked, squeezing your bum against the growing bulge in his pants. Your cunt fluttered in response, clit whining at the little friction he provided. You wanted more. Wanted to feel all of him. The weight of his cock dragging between your folds and soaking in your juices before being plunged inside, every ridge and every line you’d memorized finding their rightful place in a hole that was meant for him.

You bit your lip in brewing anticipation, mustering the courage to look into his hooded green eyes that shared the same lust yours did. “Sorry I didn’t get you a gift, Toji. Should’ve known better.”

His smile softened, head cocking to the side. “Don’t sweat it. My pretty baby knows how to make it up to me, doesn’t she?”

You nodded, standing on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “How about I gave you a second reason to celebrate today?”

As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you were being lifted into the air, both of Toji’s hands finding purchase in your plushy thighs, while his lips begged to hush whatever mention of Megumi before it was even conceived. He kicked his bedroom door open and shut it with his heel, tossing you against the covers of his made-up bed. (“Why bother if they gonna crinkle anyway?”)

He lost his shirt almost as quickly as he lost his tie, flinging both fabrics over his shoulder. No matter how many times you got to lay eyes on his naked body, you always managed to spot a new scar on his chest from his former lifestyle, the danger it packed serving as an additive to the wanton fantasy of having your guts rearranged by your boss.

Your legs spread quite the sight for him as he tugged off your shorts, your panties sporting a sizable wet spot right at the center. He forced the drenched fabric into your slit, drawing it taut around your hip bone. You moaned softly, mindful of the kid across the hall, while your hips rocked forward, chasing after the finger he pulled away.

“Taking care of my kid ain’t enough for you? Wanna be a real mommy now?” Toji sneered, yanking the belt off his pants.

“I want us to be a real family,” you confessed, bowing to help him with the rest of his clothes. You slid his pants down his briefs and let them drop to his knees, your cheek nuzzling to his clothed cock. You licked a strip over the fabric, thrilled to hear a breath hitch in Toji’s throat. “Let’s give Megs a sibling. One that is half me, and” you paused, wrapping your lips around the imprint of his balls, “half you.”

His cock sprung free the moment you lowered his underwear, the way his fat tip glistened with precum enough to make your mouth water. You wrapped a fist around his length, fingers barely closing around his hefty base, and gave him a languid, thorough pump. He watched intently, keeping all sounds to himself until your lips parted to fit his cock head, stretching around his thick girth.

“Fuck, baby—” Toji hissed, helping your hair out of the way while your throat molded back into his shape. You were taught how to take as much of him in as possible, yet no matter how diligent you were in your practice, you could never fit him whole. You bobbed your head up and down, hand stroking the parts you couldn’t swallow and tongue pitching in the action with sparse kitten licks along his shaft.

His fingers firmly gripped onto your hair, forcing your head to pick up speed as they traveled from your scalp to the back of your head. Your gag reflex protested with each thrust, hot tears gradually pooling in your eyes while you struggled to keep them open.

“Look so fucking good chocking on my dick.” His voice oozed sweetness that matched his stare, a look of utter adoration fluttering behind his pretty eyelashes.

If he thought you were the one to look good, then he should’ve seen himself; messy obsidian strands casting shadows over his darkened eyes, his pink lips agape more often than closed with all the unregulated profanities and praise that spilled out of them, turning up in volume the closer he got to his climax.

You felt him twitch in your mouth, the salty tang drooling down your jaw along with your saliva, though just when you thought he was about to cum, he pulled out, the string of fluids following after him. “Don’t want any of that going to waste, do we?” Toji smirked, pumping his length once or twice before letting go altogether.

He hunched over your body, his knees making the bed dip lower as his lips sought yours, jaw too slack to properly reciprocate. Rough palms slid below your top and ran over your sides, his fingers unhooking your bra with unmatched expertise. He broke the kiss to let you remove your shirt, his hands quick to wrap around your tits and fondle their way toward your nipples. He pinched at them, rolling the peaks between his thumbs until they stiffened.

“Can’t wait for them to get all round and full,” Toji mumbled as he lowered his head to suck a nipple into his mouth, suckling so hard that he just might draw milk. He wet it with his tongue, and then turned to the other, repeating the same motion. “Gonna get me addicted if the taste’s half as sweet as your pussy.”

Your fingers clenched into fists around the sheets, the sheer imagery of Toji feasting on your breasts enough to make your legs go weak. He was keen on sharing his fantasies with you, down to every last insignificant detail, but not as keen as he was on fulfilling every single one of them, and this one, was just a matter of time.

“T-Toji,” you said in a breathy voice.

A sexy smirk plastered on his scarred lips as he detached from your nipple with a soft pop. He left your call unanswered, instead spreading your legs further apart and settling in between. You saw him stroke his cock, and soon you felt the leaking head tap on your clothed clit. Only then did he bother to look up, taking stock of the little whines and pretty moans you selfishly withheld.

He couldn’t wait for his next leave to take you someplace nice and quiet, where the sounds of you crying his name at full volume would come in abundance.

“P-please,” you begged, fidgeting a lot more than before.

“Please what?” he played dumb, rubbing his hard cock along your entrance. “Use your words, sweetheart.

“Please f-fuck,” your voice cracked, too frail to handle his games. “Please, fuck me.”

“Aren’t ya forgetting something?” his thin eyebrow questioned.

“Please fuck me, daddy.”

Toji smiled slyly to himself, obliging enough to peel the panties away from your twitching cunt. “Don’t want a warm-up first? My girl big enough to take me without any prep?” he asked in a condescending tone, matching every beat of his voice with another slap against your clit. “Or is she that eager to be a mommy? That’s it, right?” he chuckled, your moan not going unregistered.

“You’ve gotten so greedy, Y/N,” he said after a series of little tsks. “Bet you also gonna ask to be my wife soon, huh?”

The air was knocked out of your lungs for a brief, albeit painful second as Toji aligned with your entrance and rammed his cock halfway in, his overwhelming size felt first as a sting in your walls and later as a tremor across your entire body. Even with how wet you were, it still hurt a lot more than your horny self thought it would— though it wouldn’t take long for the pain to melt into pleasure.

You didn’t realize you’d screamed until he hushed you, bending forward to press a sweet peck against your lips. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze and gathered your wobbly knees onto his brawny shoulders, refraining to move until you stopped wincing and contorting. “Stay relaxed for me, okay?”

You shook your head and pulled him into a tight embrace, loving the contrast of his hard pecs against your squishy breasts. “Want you close, Toji. Please.”

And how could he possibly refuse when his baby begged him so well?

Your nails began raking at his back as he sunk himself deeper and deeper, the position he’d bent you into making it seem as if there were no limits to how deep his cock could reach before it was buried to the hilt. He stretched you so good, stuffing your pussy full of ecstasy and your mind full of dick as he started to thrust at a steady pace, never deviating from sealing the whimpers in your mouth with sloppy kisses.

“Doing such a good job, angel. Must really want that baby, hah— can feel ya really open up for me.” A calloused hand slid between your bodies and pressed against the tiny bulge in your stomach, appearing and disappearing with each slam of his hips. “Feel that? That’s how deep you’ve taken daddy.”

He dragged his cock out and pounded it back in, his heavy balls slapping hard against your jiggly ass. His hand lowered over your clit, flicking the nub in sync with his frantic thrusts until the coiling tension in your guts snapped, a shuddering orgasm washing over him as much as it washed over you.

“Love you s-so much, Toji,” your fingers slipped onto his neck, gradually hiking up to cup his cheek.

Specks of light glimmered in his eyes as they held your loving stare, the scarred corner of his lip curling into a cocky smirk as if to defy him. “Yeah? Is it me that you love or my cock? Came into my house so I can fuck you g-good, ah?” he stuttered along with his hips. “All that money I gave ya to watch my kid goin’ to that tight-ass pussy?”

“Answer my question, slut,” he insisted.

Your brain was going blank on answers, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as his cock found all the right places, hitting every single spot that led into your fertile womb until you were back to writhing below him. “B-both, Toji, fuck love your cock so much ‘s fucking me so well.”

A hand moved over your dampened forehead, swiping your disheveled hair so he could plant a kiss. “Love you too, sweets.”

You felt yourself drowning in love as the squelching grew louder, the four-bedroom walls too thin to contain the sounds of hips snapping against hips and of his husky groans as he closed in on his high a second time. “Gonna fill ya up real good. Gonna—fuck, give my pretty baby all my babies,” Toji grunted, and you repeatedly nodded, cute little sobs severing the chants of his name.

Sharp teeth dug into your neck as Toji buried himself in the crook of your shoulder, his sultry moans reverberating against your skin until they hit their crescendo when his cock began to throb, painting your walls with thick ropes of his creamy load. He slowed down, luscious thrusts shoving his cum further in while you held him close, snaring your legs around his torso.

When he finally lifted his head, you’d both regained a sliver of composure, your pants falling back into rhythm.

“You’ll be such a good mama,” he murmured, his voice silky smooth over the shrewd ringing in your ears.

“Think so?” Your lips stretched into a faint smile that he was quick to kiss.

“You already are the better parent. Kid likes you most. Bust my balls when you have your tests and needa study.”

You chuckled, tracing the outline of his scar with your thumb. “Why do I get the feeling it’s the other way around, hmm?”

A tsk twisted his lips into a scoff as he bit onto your finger. “Ouch! What was that f—”

Your voice faltered as he spun you around; face shoved into the pillows and back forced into an arch while Toji positioned himself behind your ass and dragged his cock between your swollen red folds.

“Don’t tell me you thought we were done here.”

The next morning found all three of you at the starting point of last night’s exploits, Toji sipping on a cup of black coffee and scrolling on his phone, while Megumi quietly sat beside him on the kitchen table, awaiting his breakfast to be served. Your body felt sore all over while you grilled his salmon, sand in the corners of your eyes. Normally, you’d be trying to keep everyone entertained with idle chit-chat, but with how often you yawned, getting a word out demanded serious effort— effort you weren’t prepared to put in.

“Say, Megumi.” Toji took the reins, setting his phone down. “How would you feel about having a new mommy?”

The spatula almost fell into the pan, your objection stifled by Megumi’s voice. “I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?” Toji cocked his head curiously, propping his chin onto his palm. “Then ya wouldn’t mind if it was someone you knew?”

“Mister Fushiguro, could you please help me with the fish a bit—” you pleaded through gritted teeth, only to be dismissed with a swift gesture as if you were a housefly.

“I don’t mind having a new mommy, but I don’t want to be a brother,” he declared, stomping his fork against the wood for emphasis. “Never!”

You glanced over your shoulder, first at Toji and then at Megumi, before serving the fish on a plate and kneeling in front of the child. “Why is that, Megs? Don’t you wanna be a big brother to a little sister or a little brother?”

His eyes stubbornly refused to meet with yours, all the while they shot daggers at his father. “Don’t want one if it hurts to make.”

You chuckled, tapping at his knee gently. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard you cry last night,” Megumi admitted. “Dad hurt you, didn’t he?”

“That’s not what—”

Toji smirked as he spread his legs apart, preparing himself for the show. “Kinda late for that, buddy. And don’t worry about Y/N. Adults can cry from pleasure, too—”

“Toji!”

And thus, your little house of cards fell apart.

[two-white-butterflies]

drug | toto wolff

Description: He meets his girlfriend's parents, and they don't like him. (age gap.)

Pairing: toto wolff/horner!reader

He was your forbidden fruit, a thing that you weren't allowed to have but was delighted to get. He was everything that you needed - all of your dreams pressurized to form a single man - too bad, he took the form of your father's hated enemy.

"Are you nervous?" you ask while adjusting his tie. "Yes," he responded truthfully while pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. "Did you warn them about me?" he inquired with his thick Austrian accent. Your eyebrows merged into each other.

"I gave them a brief description about you." you brushed against the topic, afraid that he'd be mad at you too. "Old Austrian Businessman, who has a knack for dating his enemy's daughter." he gave a brief description of himself - pressing another kiss on your forehead. "You're not old." you pout. He was perfectly aged.

"Are you ready to meet them? We can reschedule," you give him one last change in changing his mind. "No, I'm ready perle." he hummed, taking your hand and pulling you away from the porch.

You raise your eyebrows at the sight of his car. "Not using the Mercedes?" you teased, seeing him open the door for you. "Might be too much on the noose, yeah?" he smiled, helping you inside.

To your surprise, your father was already standing in the driveway.

"Shit," Toto chuckles, his hand was on your thigh - other hand on the steering-wheel. "Ready to meet the wolves?" you take a deep breath, seeing that Christian was already walking towards the car. "It's a good thing that we had a shot of vodka for luck," he mumbled - seeing his sworn enemy open the door for you.

"(Your Name)," your father greeted with hidden warmth, he barely acknowledged your presence - his eyes were already pierced on the man in the driver's seat. "Dad," you exchange a glance with Toto.

"What is he doing here?" your father placed a hand on your shoulder. "I was going to tell you sooner," you began to explain - seeing your mother in your periphery. "Nice to meet you, Christian." Toto smiled - deciding to put the f1 business behind them.

"Aren't you going to invite us inside?" your eyes narrowed, forcing the door wide open and taking a step out of the car.

For middle aged men - they both acted like kids.

"So uh, Toto. How's Mercedes?" your mother attempted to create small talk, but Christian was evidently upset. "Amazing, we've done a few changes in the car." he smiled, glancing at your face and searching for signs of sadness. "How about Redbull?" he stared at your father - waiting for a reply.

"That's classified," he says in a polite tone, returning back to his penne pasta. Your mind began to flash back to the times where your father would complain about Toto, in your opinion - it was childish rivalry - and they would do better as friends.

Your mother gives him a 'look' while taking a sip of her juice.

"How did you meet each other?" your mother interrogated, searching for cracks in the relationship - fortunately there weren't any. "Do you remember the dinner that dad forced me to attend? The one with Lewis and Max," you reminded - smiling at your father as he attempts to mask his disappointment. You expected him to send Toto home - you were thankful for your father's self-control.

"Oh, the one I had to drag you to attend." Christian chuckled, remembering all of the excuses that you came up with. "I met him there," you placed your hand on top of Toto's.

"Ah," he replied - keeping his eyes on the food.

The dinner was short - it only lasted for an hour. Toto and Christian were trying their best to eat as fast as they can. Your father didn't even let anyone have ice cream. He was adamant in sending Toto home. "Bye," you wave at the window - seeing his car fade from view.

"We need to talk," your parents welcome you on the couch. A sigh escapes your mouth - already anticipating the outcome of this conversation. "I know that you like dating older boys," your father began - attempting to sound like a cool dad.

"- but I don't think that Toto's a good choice." he raised his arms in mock surrender. "I'm an adult, I don't need your unsolicited advise." you start in a calm tone - your voice was always gentle. "Do you remember the last time you brought an older guy home? What did he do? Ride off you career, and treat you like...shit." your mother hesitated with the cursing but your father agreed.

"That was different, I was a teenager." you groan - annoyed that they were using their faults against you. I mean, everyone could see that he was bad news - parents shouldn't be letting their seventeen year old daughter date a twenty two year old. "I'm grown now, and I know that Toto's a good guy." you defended your boyfriend.

"And if you're going to throw hate against him, I can't sit here and take that." you grab your coat that was conveniently placed beside you. "I-I want you to think about this." your father referred to you by your family nickname. "I will," you respond while walking out.

vanillay/n_horner: i will always choose you.

0 comments 12,391 likes

part two

[katelynnwrites]

Wondering If I Dodged A Bullet (Or Just Lost The Love Of My Life) | Laura Freigang

warnings: angst and my round and round in circles writing

word count: 2897

summary: laura leaves penn state for frankfurt, another way to put it would be that you and your girlfriend break up because she leaves penn state for frankfurt

a/n: i struggled so hard to complete this and it ended up being far from my best work but it is what it is 🙃

You are eighteen years old when your world changes forever.

It happens in the form of a blonde striker named Laura.

Her eyes captivate you the second you meet them. They’re the same colour as the ocean on a stormy day and possess the same ever shifting qualities.

She’s all confidence on the pitch and yet oh so shy when off it.

When your college coach introduces you to her, you know it is inevitable that you fall for her.

You have all your lucky stars to thank that she falls for you too.

******

It is one month into your relationship with Laura that you learn she loves back scratches.

You discover it entirely by accident, having mindlessly run your fingers across her shirt covered back while she was studying.

The happy sigh she let out had been a soft one but you’d picked up on it immediately.

It’s still early in your relationship but Laura has always been open about her body to you so it’s only with mild hesitation that you tentatively slide your hand up under her shirt, to gently scratch your nails on her bare skin.

The German girl groans immediately. It’s a sound of contentment and you adore the way she melts onto your bed.

She’d come over to study and you suspect, to complain about her upcoming psychology test.

Your girlfriend is awfully smart, being more than capable of keeping up her grades while still being a regular starter for your football team

You suppose that attaining a sports scholarship to study in Penn State should have given you an idea of just how driven she can be.

Laura’s a year older and thus, a year ahead of you. She has way more course material than you and her compromise for making sure she is able to finish her work and still spend time with you, is doing her work in your room. Often with her head in your lap.

You giggle at her protests the moment you stop giving her back scratches.

‘Schatz please don’t stop.’ She begs.

Her ocean coloured eyes have this beseeching look in them, the one that you are never able to refuse.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ You laugh, resuming your previous actions, much to the blonde’s delight.

******

One hundred and twenty one days into dating Laura, you learn that there is nothing she wouldn’t do for you.

Your girlfriend is a big all or nothing individual, that particular characteristic drawing you to her in the first place.

The German forward gives everything she has on the pitch, absolutely one hundred percent of herself regardless of the minute or the opponent.

It just didn’t occur to you that she would bring that into your relationship.

From using the little stove in the dormitory kitchen to make your favourite breakfast on game days, to carrying your bag for you after trainings, Laura is simply committed to you.

You don’t know how else to put it.

She is just an anything for my person kind of girl.

You’re beyond grateful to be her person.

The striker is stepping up her game now, video calling you from her hotel room in Germany, just so she can wish you good morning.

There is a significant time difference between Pennsylvania and Frankfurt but your girlfriend makes it work.

The blonde sets an alarm to wake up in the middle of the night, just to call you for a few minutes right when she knows you will be getting up for your classes.

‘Good morning schatz.’ She whispers, taking in the early morning sun that is lighting up your room when you pick up her call.

‘I’d say good morning too but I think wishing you goodnight makes more sense.’ You tease.

Your girlfriend giggles, ‘I’ll take anything you want to wish me. I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice.’

You’re glad for the poor lighting because Laura’s words make your cheeks turn a bright red.

‘Lau? You did not have to wake up just to say good morning to me. Rest is important for you.’

‘I know. But I wanted to.’ She says softly, adoration filling her voice.

‘Lau?’ You ask again, staring hard at your phone screen to make her out in her hotel room.

It is dark but you manage to, the weak glow of her own phone screen helping you do so.

She is tucked into her sheets, messy blonde hair strewn all over her pillow as she giggles, ‘Yes schatz?’

‘I miss you.’

‘I miss you too.’ She breathes, a small smile playing on her lips.

Every time Germany has a training camp for their youth teams, Laura flies back to her home country to participate.

Each time, you miss her more.

Her absence is sorely felt and you’ve taken to dropping her off and picking her up at the airport just so you don’t have to miss her any longer than you have to.

‘I’ll see you at the airport in two days?’

‘Count on it.’ You promise and you blow each other a kiss before hanging up.

******

Six months into your relationship with the German player is when you find out that she has a penchant for stealing your clothes.

You have been wondering where certain items of your clothing have disappeared to and unbeknown to you, Laura has been hiding them away in her room.

Hoarding might actually be a more accurate term.

Despite how clingy you can be to your girlfriend and she to you, you don’t spend every night together.

When you do, it’s nearly always in your room because your bed is slightly bigger than hers.

It is a sore point with the blonde and she often jokingly complains that it is unfair of Penn State to give their star forward such a small bed.

Today is one of the few times you are in her room and the first time you are alone in it.

Laura’s late in meeting you and you know your girlfriend well enough to be sure that it’s because she has got a bunch of questions for her lecturer.

So you had used the spare key she had given you when you were just friends, before you’d even started dating, to let yourself into her room because standing outside it alone had been too awkward. You know she won’t mind anyway.

Tired from the day’s early morning practice, you flop down on her bed and dump your bag down at the side of it.

You absentmindedly shift her pillow to get more comfortable, only to find something beside it.

As you stare at the piece of clothing, you realise that it’s one of your missing shirts.

Lying back down, you find another of your missing shirts tucked under the other side of her pillow.

You are very confused now, beginning to wonder if you have been forgetful enough to leave not just one but two of your shirts behind, the last time you stayed over in her dorm room.

But if you were, then why hasn’t the blonde returned the shirts to you? Or said anything?

Thankfully, you hear Laura’s key in the door so you don’t have to worry about it for long.

‘Hey schatz.’ She greets cheerfully, flinging her bag onto the floor carelessly and sprawling herself on top of you.

‘Lau!’ You exclaim and she laughs.

Her hands cup your face gently and she presses a brief kiss onto your lips.

‘Hi.’ You giggle, after readily reciprocating her affectionate gesture.

‘Hi.’ She breathes.

Your girlfriend buries her face into the side of your neck, leaving more intimate kisses there.

You groan at the touch of her lips on your skin. It gives you butterflies inside but you can’t let it distract you now.

‘Laura…Laura?’

She makes a questioning noise but doesn’t slow.

‘Why have you got my shirts in your bed? Did I leave them here?’

The German girl freezes.

‘Lau?’ You prompt, reaching out to hold her hand reassuringly.

Her cheeks are rapidly turning a bright pink and she stammers, ‘I-I didn’t mean for you to find out about that…you’re going to think I’m so silly.’

You plant a little kiss on her forehead and gently tease, ‘I already think you’re silly, in the best of ways.’

Laura smiles and then shyly admits, ‘You didn’t leave them here. I kinda stole them from you because I love sleeping with your familiar smell. You always smell so good and something about it just calms me down.’

You stare at her in stunned silence.

Long enough that Laura begins to look uncertain.

Then you blurt out, ‘I love you.’

Your girlfriend lets out a small gasp, her pretty eyes shining as she whispers, ‘I love you too.’

It’s the first ‘I love you’ for the both of you and you cannot put into words how much it means.

Laura seems to be thinking along the same lines because she traces your cheekbone lightly, the action filled with adoration.

‘I love you. I love you. I love you.’ She murmurs, in between peppering your face with kisses.

‘Love you too Laura. So much, even if you do keep stealing my shirts.’

The blonde smiles and confesses, ‘Can’t help it. I bring a bunch with me to every national camp too.’

Before meeting the German girl, you didn’t know it was possible to feel this strongly for anyone.

But as it is with Laura, you discover so many firsts.

You hope that you discover many lasts too because you want what you have with her to be forever.

Fervently, you hope that Laura Freigang is the girl you have your last first kiss with.

******

Forty five weeks of dating Laura and you decide that she is the love of your life.

Maybe it’s the good morning and good night kisses, or the way she so obviously cherishes every moment she has with you. It could even be the way she smiles.

The corners of her lips tip upwards and her eyes light up each and every time she does so.

Your girlfriend’s brother says that Laura’s smile is different when it is directed at you. He claims that it is special and you are inclined to agree.

Laura herself is special to you. Boundlessly so.

She has a new found habit of sliding her hand up and under your shirt whenever you fall asleep together.

The blonde striker craves skin to skin contact with you, loves the peace it gives her.

After your girlfriend admits why she keeps your shirts beside her pillow, you offer her a better solution.

Instead of your shirts, she can have you.

Laura takes you up on that immediately and her assigned dorm room practically becomes a storage room for her belongings.

She is always in your room because she spends every night there now.

It’s one of her favourite things to curl up beside you and rhythmically match her breaths to yours.

You are warm and oh so real, unlike the often cold material of your shirts.

The German girl can be possessive and it shows in how she holds you close, even as she sleeps.

Laura presses you into her, her palm resting flat on your back and you love it.

It has you feeling safe and wanted, two things that your girlfriend has never failed to make you feel.

You know that you are right, she is the love of your life.

******

Three hundred and sixty five days of being Laura’s and Laura being yours is when she gives you a necklace for your anniversary.

It is a simple piece of jewellery, a small heart shaped locket hanging on a delicate silver chain.

‘Do you like it?’ She anxiously asks, fidgeting with the rings on her fingers.

Admiring the gift, you breathe, ‘I love it.’

Gently, you kiss her to convey just how grateful you are. The blonde smiles into the kiss, her hands cupping your face instinctively.

When you pull away, you softly speak, ‘Thank you schatz. Will you help me put it on please?’

The striker grins brightly, ‘Of course.’

She makes quick work of clasping it around your neck as you hold your hair up.

Glancing at the mirror, you play with the locket and Laura prompts, ‘Open it.’

You feel a tiny latch you hadn’t noticed earlier just as she says so.

The locket opens when you press down on it and you gasp as you see the photo of your girlfriend sharing a kiss with you in it.

You pull Laura into a different kiss, deepening it to show her just how much you love her present.

‘Love you. Love you. Love you.’ You murmur, in between the kisses you keep pressing onto her lips.

Laura lets out a pleased sigh, intertwining her fingers with yours and promising, ‘I love you too.’

You squeeze her hand in yours but can’t take your eyes off the locket.

‘Schatz, this is really beautiful.’

Your girlfriend cheekily but honestly admits, ‘Like you.’

Then she laughs at the blush that rapidly appears on your cheeks, affectionately brushing her lips across your forehead.

******

Laura’s locket never leaves its place, around your neck.

Not even when you are nineteen and the blonde, twenty, the two of you unsure where your relationship is going.

The striker has got an offer from 1. FFC Frankfurt and she knows that taking it will be the best move for her career. You know it too.

It is just your fear of what happens now that makes you anxious.

You love your girlfriend, adore her so. She’s only been yours for slightly more than a year but she is the love of your life. You don’t know what you would do without her.

Your day starts with Laura’s good morning kisses, you eat breakfast together, walk each other to classes when able to, study together, go for training sessions with one another and share goodnight kisses when it is time to sleep.

For a lack of a better way to put it, you do not remember how to live your life without her. You don’t you if you can and that may be codependent of you but it is the truth.

From the way the blonde is fidgeting with her rings, you know the feeling is mutual.

‘I-I don’t want to leave you.’ She quietly admits.

‘I know.’

‘I love you.’

‘I know. And I love you too but you have to do this schatz.’

Laura’s voice is pained when she echoes your earlier words, ‘I know.’

Touching your necklace carefully, you begin to unlatch it.

The German girl inhales sharply.

‘Don’t.’

Her ocean coloured eyes are welling with tears when she covers your hands with hers.

‘Keep it. I gave it to you. It’s yours. Please, it’s meant for you.’

‘But Lau-’

Her words are fierce as she insists, ‘No! We’re not over, you and I.’

Your smile is wistful and cautious when you look up at her.

‘Laura you don’t know that. You don’t know if any club will want to take me, let alone one in Germany. The chances of me ending up in Frankfurt with you are slim if at all possible.’

The forward’s frown intensifies, ‘Don’t say that. You don’t know that.’

As much as you want it not to be, your tone is one of resignation, ‘Schatz…’

Your dorm room feels stifling in a way it never has before and even though Laura is sitting right beside you, on your bed, she feels so far away that she might as well already be in Frankfurt.

The blonde is staring at you speechlessly and you take her hand in yours.

Holding her hand is familiar and an intimate gesture…one that you know you will not have for much longer.

‘I love you. No matter how much time passes, part of me is always going to love you. But you need to stop thinking about me. About us…and move on. You are going to do so good with Frankfurt. You are brilliant Lau, please show them exactly how talented you are.’

Your words are barely audible but you mean it. You have never meant anything more. It’s with your whole heart, your breaking heart, that you tell them to the German girl.

Laura’s tears are spilling down her cheeks and she is shaking slightly when you break your heart for good with the next two sentences out of your mouth.

‘I’m your biggest fan. That’s never going to change, it will just have to be from a distance now.’

******

Maybe it was stupid of you to let the love of your life go. But you needed to, needed to learn how to live on your own and let her be a star, halfway around the world.

In a way, you dodge a bullet too because as painful as it is, you learn. Without the striker leaving, you never would have learnt.

And for Laura who has been looking sad in all the nicest places and wanting to call your name until you come back home, it pays off.

Because some years later, as crazy as it is, you are in a German cab and telling the driver where the blonde’s place is.

You’re on your way back home to her, with her locket still around your neck.

German Translation:

schatz - sweetheart

[graciesluva]

clingy, caitlin clark

caitlin clark x reader

in which caitlin is super tired after a win and just wants to be with you.

i 🩷 clingy caitlin (this isn’t proofread)

Caitlin finds you immediately after the game, it’s a habit that has formed since the two of you got together over the summer. You had known each other since freshman year, but you only got closer during her sophomore basketball season, which led to the two of you becoming best friends and now, girlfriends.

“Good job, baby,” you say gently, wrapping your arms around her neck. Her hands rest on your waist as she presses a soft kiss to your jawline.

You offer to take her bag and to your surprise, she lets you. Normally, she would refuse and the two of you would go about your night.

They just beat Penn State, the score 108 to 67. Caitlin played well, but to be fair, she always played well in your eyes, “Are you going with the girls to celebrate?” you ask her, knowing Monika and Kate would probably recruit a few of the girls to hang out.

Caitlin shakes her head, “Can we go home?” she asks.

You lived in your own apartment off campus. Caitlin practically lived with you. She was always there, always spent the night. There was really no reason for her to have a dorm room, she was never there.

“Of course, love,” you say, grabbing her hand and intertwining your fingers. The two of you walk out to your car, setting Caitlin’s bag in the backseat. You get into the drivers seat, Caitlin in the passenger. A song by Phoebe Bridgers plays through your phone that connected to the radio.

Caitlin holds onto your hand as you drive, her head against your upper arm, “Y/n…” she murmurs. You hum in response, glancing down at her before looking back to the road, ���I love you,” she says a little louder, her voice tired.

You find yourself smiling, “I love you too, Cait,” you tell her, pressing a quick kiss to her head.

It doesn’t take long to get to your apartment considering it’s not too far from Carver. When you get out of the car, you grab Caitlin’s bag. Your girlfriend doesn’t fall too far behind, following you to the elevator of the complex. Once in the elevator, she leans down to rest her head on top of yours, kissing your head gently.

You unlock the door to your apartment, placing her bag by the door where you each put your shoes. She immediately heads for your bedroom, going to change clothes. After a few moments, you follow her, walking in as she’s pulling her new shirt over her head and taking her hair out of her ponytail. You go ahead and change too, slipping on a pair of shorts and one of Caitlin’s crewnecks.

“Baby, come to bed,” Caitlin says from where she lays, already underneath the blankets of your bed.

You turn and smile at her, making your way over to her. Pulling the blanket back, you slide into your bed, laying next to your girlfriend. Caitlin wraps her arms around your waist, placing her head on your chest.

“You tired, love?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

She nods as you secure your arms around her shoulders, running your fingers through her hair. You kiss the crown of her head, “I’m proud of you,” you whisper to her. She smiles, slipping her hand under your sweatshirt to rest on your bare back.

You look down at her, “Go to sleep. I love you,” you say and it doesn’t take long before you hear her soft snores.

[dailybridgerton]

Nicola Coughlan and Claudia Jessie on 'Bridgerton' by Liam Daniel

"I'm rooting for them," showrunner Jess Brownell tells EW. "Bridgerton is about love in its many forms, and that includes friendship. The breakup between two friends can be just as earth shattering as a romantic relationship. For Penn, it is extremely difficult. But it's also a chance for the two of them to grow and learn about themselves without that safety net of always having their best friend around."

And what of Penelope's determination to keep her gossip column going? "It's probably not Eloise's favorite thing," adds Brownell. "It's definitely a piece of the conflict between them — how that plays out, I will leave to be revealed."

[stylinsoncity]

posting this long snippet from the time travel fic i've been writing.. might not make any sense out of context but oh well. i think i'll also post a penn park snippet too. just to confirm for you all that i'm alive and writing lol

“This isn’t Back to the Future, Lou. Everything that’s meant to happen has already happened. Nothing you say can really change that. But it’s bad form and technically violates witch law for us to, like…tell you next week’s winning lottery numbers or something.”

“But it’s not against the rules to bring me here?”

“No,” Harry says. “It’s not like you’ll be going out or interacting with anyone else. You’ll be staying with us.”

“Who’s us?”

Harry peeks at him. He hesitates for a while. “Um. Me…and my husband.”

Louis angles his body to face him. “Husband?”

Harry throws another skittish glance his way.

“So you’re actually…?” Louis wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. “When did you decide for sure you were…?”

“Gay?” Harry supplies. “Maybe it was when you kissed me.”

“You kissed me.”

“You kissed me back,” Harry says. “Enthusiastically.”

“Whatever. Is that genuinely when you knew? You started snogging boys exclusively from then on?”

“Well, I was snogging a girl just now before we left, as you saw. And a boy,” Harry says. “But yeah, I guess…not long after that party, I decided to stick to blokes. Or just…one, really.”

Louis nearly misses that last bit. “What?”

Harry turns the radio up. “That’s enough questions for now. And we’re almost home.”

Louis goes on staring at him for a bit longer, wondering if he’s understood correctly. Did Harry meet his husband at that party? Was it someone he met the following week? Was Louis that stupid to step aside and let whoever it was take his place? Apparently so.

The mood grows tenser from then on, mostly due to Louis’ adamant silence and sour mood, neither of which he can justify. Did he expect Harry to never marry? Did he expect Harry to marry him?

Louis snorts aloud and sees Harry sneak a look at him. He sinks further into his seat, arms crossed over his chest, and stares through the windscreen for the rest of the ride.

Within the next few minutes, the car slows and turns at the corner of a downward sloping drive. At the end of the drive, as Harry approaches, a garage door rises. Louis didn’t see Harry press any buttons but perhaps it’s automatic.

Then Louis sees him. Or himself. Or his older self. At first he doesn’t believe his eyes. He’s still expecting something dimension-shattering to occur when he’s face to face with a future version of himself. He expects to implode or for Future Louis to fade out of existence. None of that happens, but there’s no denying that the man standing at the door connecting the garage to the house is Louis, eleven years older.

“Trippy, isn’t it?” Harry says, as he cuts the engine. “Ready to meet your future?”

And well, Louis won’t say it aloud because he’d just sound like a dickhead, but his future is quite fit, so the answer is yes. He’s got an actual beard, as opposed to Louis’ vague facial hair. He seems more built and broad around his shoulders and torso. It’s hard to be sure when he’s backlit by the light flowing from the interior of Harry’s home, but even his hair seems shinier and softer. He’s wearing a dark grey knit jumper with the sleeves pushed to his elbows and Louis catches sight of several more tattoos, although he doesn’t get a good look at them before the Older Louis pulls his sleeves down.

Harry pushes his door open, so Louis does the same. And finally meets eyes with himself, unobstructed by the windscreen.

“Forgot how small I was,” Older Louis says and nothing more.

Louis wasn’t expecting to be best mates with his older self or anything, but perhaps they won’t be friends at all. “You’re not exactly Dwayne Johnson, mate.”

Harry snorts, pushing the car door closed. “Don’t start,” he says to Older Louis. He noticeably pats his stomach as he eases past him into the house. It registers as familiar or even flirty to Louis, which is odd but reassuring. At least in the future, in spite of Harry’s husband, they manage to retain their closeness. Harry’s husband must not love that, but clearly Older Louis can’t be arsed.

Louis hears a chorus of barks from further inside and moves more quickly and curiously, eager to see every aspect of Harry’s adult life.

“Shoes off,” Older Louis says to younger Louis at the door. He tacks on a smile. “If you’d be so polite.”

Louis narrows his eyes at him as he shoves his shoes off.

“Come on,” Older Louis says. “I’ll be your tour guide.”

“You don’t even live here,” Louis says.

Older Louis looks at him. “Right,” he says. “Harry just lets me kip here every night ‘cause I don’t have a home of my own.”

“Seriously?”

“The future is tough, mate,” Older Louis says gravely. But just as he turns away, there’s a nearly imperceptible wiggle of his lips that suggests he’d like to laugh.

Louis decides his older self is not to be taken seriously. He’ll get his facts from Harry. Speaking of whom, they find him when they enter the kitchen as he steps inside from the back garden.

“What happened to your dogs?” Louis asks.

“I let them out. Jasper is a senior and when he gets really excited, he wets himself,” Harry says. “And he’ll get really excited seeing two of you.”

“I gave him his meds,” Older Louis says. “Should be fine in a bit.”

“Thanks, babe,” Harry says. His gaze flickers suddenly to younger Louis like he forgot he was there. He clears his throat. “Um, do you want a beer? Or tea? Water?”

“Whatever you’re having,” Louis says.

“Do you like wine?” Harry asks. “I can’t remember if we drank wine at your age.”

“Never too early to start,” Older Louis says. “He’ll like the Malbec.”

“Malbec, it is,” Harry says and goes into a walk-in pantry where he ostensibly keeps the wine. Meanwhile, Older Louis gets three glasses from a cupboard above the sink. He’s really a bit too familiar with Harry’s home. Maybe he is here all the time. Maybe he really doesn’t have a home of his own. Compounded with his imminent death tomorrow, the future doesn’t seem all that bright for Louis. No matter how hot he is.

But his friendship with Harry is a lot to be grateful for. Louis watches Harry and his older self speaking quietly to each other as Harry fills each of the three glasses. He watches Harry laugh at whatever Older Louis says and slap his hand playfully against his chest.

Louis wonders again about Harry’s husband. He wants to ask where he is and when he gets home, but he also never wants him to come home. So long as he’s away, Louis can keep tricking himself into believing he doesn’t exist.

But then he spies the wedding ring on Harry’s finger as Harry hands him a glass of wine and he can’t stop himself from blurting, “Where is he?”

Harry’s brows crease. “Who?”

“Your husband,” Louis says, pointedly.

“Oh.” Harry chews his top lip for a moment. “Why don’t we get comfortable first? Come on.”

Then he takes Louis’ free hand and pulls him off towards the sunken living area. It hasn’t slipped his notice how posh the entire home is. The kitchen was a massive gleaming wonder of marble and bronze. There were five cars in the drive and the first room Louis passed upon entering the home was a gym. He didn’t get a good look at the exterior under the cover of night, but what he could see revealed an expansive upper floor and several outdoor decks.

The living area features two parallel velvet couches, a marble coffee table, and a large flat screen tv mounted above a two-way fireplace. Louis can’t quite tell what’s on the other side of the fireplace but it seems like a formal dining room.

“Your house is fucking amazing,” Louis says, plopping down in a plush leather armchair.

“Thanks,” Harry says, smiling. He sits on the couch across from Louis. “It’s the kind of house you grow into. That’s why we bought it.”

Louis nearly asks if that means Harry has kids, but he has a big greedy gulp of wine instead. He shrivels at the taste initially, finding it bitter and sharp. But then he has another sip and it’s not so much that he likes it, but that he finds it distracting.

Older Louis enters the room much to Louis’ disappointment and takes up the seat right beside Harry.

“I can still get you a beer,” Harry says randomly. “If you don’t like the wine.”

“No,” Louis says. “It’s fine.”

“If there’s anything else you need, just let me know,” Harry says. “I want you to be comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable enough, Haz,” says Louis. “It’s just nice to see where you live in the future, and how well you’ve done for yourself. You deserve all this. The husband, too.”

Older Louis exhales a laugh. “Should I get a box of tissues?”

“Shut up,” Harry says.

“Tell him to shut up,” Older Louis says. “This is embarrassing.”

“If you’re so embarrassed, just leave,” Louis says. “I don’t even get why you’re still here.”

Older Louis groans suddenly and loudly, pressing his fingertips into his eyelids. “There’s no way you’re this daft. No fucking way.”

“Louis,” Harry says. “Please.”

[formula1neverleft]

Il Predestinato - Charles Leclerc

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female! reader 

Summary: Post Spanish GP

                 Charles doesn’t want pity. He just wants you. 

Warnings: smut, praise kink central, swearing

Some posts that *inspired* me: BASED ON THIS GIF AND THIS GIF ALONE (creds to biscottifosi) 

Song Recs: Cosmic Love by FLorence + the machine // Disconnect by Clean Bandit // I Never Learn by Lykke Li 

Author’s note: *dodges tomatoes* okay guys i know people are waiting on some of my other wip’s but this had to be done it was out of my control really. This is a work of fiction and not a reflection of the real people involved!! Not proofread. Feedback is very much appreciated!! Enjoy xx 

Words: 2k (short and sweet) 

Barcelona, Spain, May 22nd 2022

 Charles had long since learned that he couldn’t blame himself for an engine failure. 

To be fair, he couldn’t even blame the mechanics or the team as a whole. 

Over time, it became clear to him that every single person was putting their heart and soul into their work, and sometimes things don’t end up the way you had expected them. Sometimes, life just wasn’t fair. 

Despite knowing all this, he couldn’t help the hollow ache in his chest as he made his way back to his trailer after finishing his interviews. 

In passing one of the screens in the media penn, he caught a glimpse of Max gaining the lead, and Charles quickly redirected his gaze towards his own feet, hoping they could carry him to his destination faster so that he wouldn’t risk running into anyone else who would undoubtedly give him a sympathetic pat on the back, maybe even a “tough luck, mate” to accompany the gesture. 

Charles knew their intentions were good, but it was the last thing he needed at this very moment. 

He’d seen you too, right after he had gotten out of the car, giving him a comforting smile as you gave him the space and time to shake hands with the mechanics first. 

You knew him better than anyone else, and he silently thanked you by shooting a wink your way as you turned on your heels and disappeared from his view. 

Charles closed his eyes in appreciation of the cold air that washed over him when he entered his trailer, as he leaned his back on the closed door and basked in it for a short while. 

He had almost forgotten how hot he’d been in the car, and somehow even hotter during the interviews, having to voice his obvious disappointment time and time again while being asked the same questions way too many times. 

At this moment, he felt like he could breathe again for the first time since stepping into the car. 

When he opened his eyes again, you were there. Leaning against the doorframe that led to the small bedroom section of the trailer, wearing nothing more than one of Charles shirts that rested barely halfway down your thighs. 

 Yeah, you really did know him better than anyone else. 

 “You okay, baby?” you asked sincerely, unable to hide the worry that always formed whenever he had a tough race, whether it was his fault or not.  

 “No, i’m not okay” Charles said with a sigh as he pushed himself off the door and started closing the distance between the two of you. 

 “but I don’t want pity” he continued, now so close to you he could rest his forehead against yours. 

 “you know that’s not what I need right now” he concluded as he finally connected your lips together. He wastes no time, pushing you up against the wall, hands planted firmly on either side of your head.

 His tongue explored your mouth, passionately but not too much, never too much. Before he met you he had never considered himself an above average kisser, but you had always praised him for it, and now it was all Charles could think about when he kissed you. 

As you recoiled from him in desperate need of some air, he focused his attention on your neck, kissing and licking all your sweet spots as his hands drifted lower, playing with the hem of his shirt before trailing them upwards slowly. 

You tried your best to not get lost in how good he was making you feel, knowing that after the day he’d had, he needed you to talk to him. 

To tell him how good he was being. 

 “feels so good Charles, I love your mouth” you spoke as your hands made their way into his hair, pulling and stroking, leaving his hair even more messy than was already the case after wearing his helmet. A small noise of appreciation left his lips at your praise, and in response, he pulled you with him into the bedroom. The bed was barely big enough to fit one person, let alone two, but you knew a way or two to get around that problem. 

 “Sit down, baby” you put your hands on Charles shoulders and pushed down slightly, prompting him to sit down on the bed, facing you. 

You hands made quick work of getting him out of the race suit that was tied around his hips, fireproofs following soon after. You took the time to look at him, lips swollen and parted, his hair a mess, drops of sweat still visible on his temples. He looked beautiful, and desperate. 

 “You did so good today,” you continued as you eventually freed him from his boxers. He was already so hard, drops of pre-cum leaking onto the trail of hair that strailed from his belly button to his crotch. 

 “you did so good that I’m gonna suck your dick for you, but you knew that already when you got out of the car, didn’t you?” 

You could see the effects your words were having on him, his breathing getting even heavier, his lower lip clenched tightly between his teeth. Deciding to give him some much-needed relief, you get to work. Leaning your head slightly on his thigh, you give the side of his cock a few slow licks, focusing on one side and then the other. 

He was moaning now, a continuous stream of whimpers leaving his lips, his mouth falling open as his eyes screwed shut. 

Then you took him into your mouth fully, hands taking care of the part of him that you couldn’t fit into your mouth. Occasionally, you took him as deep as you could, hands holding onto his thighs as your head bobbed up and down. Charles’ hands found their way to your hair, getting it out of your face and into a make-shift ponytail as you doubled down on your efforts, a few barely intelligible “thank you’s”  coming from his lips. 

The noise that filled the room was absolutely filthy, a combination of your mouth and his moans, as you made a conscious effort to remember the sound for the next time you were alone and missing Charles. 

 Eventually, you leaned back and let him fall from your mouth, continuing your praise of you got up and started to undress yourself. 

 “Pole position and led the race, had all of the drivers behind you praying for your engine to give out, ‘cuz they know that’s the only way they were beating you” you said as you pulled the shirt over your head, leaving you just as naked as Charles was now. 

 “Lay down for me” 

 Charles immediately obeyed you, laying himself down on his back, not letting his eyes stray from you even for one second. 

 “Max is still out there trying his best to scramble some point now that you’re not there, while your here, about to fuck me so good, aren’t you?” 

Charles was barely able to mutter out a “yes, baby” as you settled on top of him, just enough room on the narrow bed to fit your knees on either side of him. 

 “He probably wishes he was here right now instead of in that car, but this is only for you, Charles” you said as you finally sank down onto his cock. He looked unreal, eyes watering from the pleasure and cheeks flushed red as his mouth momentarily formed a teasing smirk, knowing you were getting off on this just as much as he was, but it was quickly replaced with a low whine as you started to move. The moans that you both let out simultaneously were obscene, but you quickly found your rhythm and regained your composure enough to continue your praise.  

 “ next time, you’ll be on that podium again, and if it's not next time then it’ll be the time after that, because you were meant for this, baby, you know that right? What is it they called you again…Il predestinato?” 

As soon as the words left your lips, Charles dug his hand into the skin of your hips, his knuckles turning white in the process. 

 “Call me that again” he muttered as his hands helped guide you in your rhythm, transitioning into a slow grind, feeling him so deep inside you that it made your toes curl. 

You repeated the word a few more times, feeling him twitch inside you each time. 

Before you could continue however, you felt the beginning of your orgasm blossoming, and instinctively Charles removed one of his hands on your hips to place his thumb on your clit to help you get there, knowing the exact movement and amount of pressure that you liked. 

“fuck yes, please make me cum, Charles, yes-” you pleaded as you firmly grabbed hold of his wrist to keep him there. 

 “You look so pretty like this, mon amour. You’re making such pretty noises for me, am I making you feel that good, huh?” Charles suddenly switched it up and decided to praise you for a change, and all you could do was nod before your orgasm washed over you as you buried your face into Charles’ neck, riding out your high as you spasmed around him. 

All Charles needed to follow suit was you saying his name over and over again as you game, followed here and there by a lewd “so good, baby”, as he came too while holding you down firmly onto him. 

The only noise in the room was now your pants as you lay there in silence for a few minutes, basking in the post-sex haze. Both of you now sweaty, skin sticking to each other and his come dripping from you as you leaned forward slightly, his cock still half-hard when he pulled out of you. 

Charles closed his eyes as his fingers trailed lovingly up and down your spine, making goosebumps arise in their wake. 

 “You know you’re more than just the number of points on that championship board, right?” you said earnestly as you looked up at him. 

 “Yeah, I know” Charles answered, giving you a comforting smile and a kiss on your forehead 

“ As long as I have you, I can handle it. We can make it through anything, together” 

His words made tears prickle the corner of your eyes, but Charles was quick to follow up his sentimental comment with a joke. 

 “I will ask the team to DNF more frequently if it means that I get this kind of consolation prize,” you quickly responded by giving him a playful jab to the ribs. 

 “Ow!” he replied melodramatically, causing you both to break out in a fit of laughter. 

A few more minutes passed before you spoke up once more. 

 “Are you ready to go back out there? race is probably over by now” 

 “Just give me a few more minutes here, ma cherie” he replied as he closed his eyes, not ready to face the world outside of the trailer just yet. 

You didn’t have to be told twice, and laid your head down on his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart underneath you. 

You could stay here forever if he wanted to

[toast-tales]

Cursed Cravings, Chapter 3: Master of the House

In which Danny meets the ever-so-charming owner of the strange mansion, and gets offered a deal to save her friend. Contains: ~2.1k words | Chapter 1 | Read this story on A03!

At least screaming was out of the question, not while she seemed to barely be able to breathe in the first place. This was surreal. This wasn’t normal. But your eyes could only play so many tricks on you before you had to accept that what was standing before you was not an illusion, but a reality you had to face. 

And face it she would.

“Hey,” she said simply, wondering if the giant man could even hear her from all the way across the entryway. Surely her voice would be nothing louder than the squeak of a mouse to him. “I’m looking for my friend Nathan. Someone…said they could help?”

If I just talk to him like a normal guy, it’s less scary, right? He’s just a normal guy. Danny was at least quite adept at taking her own fear and crushing it up into a ball, shoving it under the rug of feigned confidence. She forced her own stiff posture to loosen, her arms crossing over each other in as casual a manner as she could manage. A small part of her wondered if she should address him more formally, because based on his dress and the state of the manor alone he at least seemed important, but she didn’t know how rich people talked to each other anyways. She’d never gotten so much as a glimpse of high society, and even if she had, she wouldn’t have the patience for it. Certainly not now, when she’d been traveling all day in the cold and had nearly reached the end of her rope as it was.

The giant chuckled, taking a few more steps toward her before he stopped in the middle of the room, and though he was still a ways away, Danny still had to crane her neck upwards just to meet his eyes—dark, and dancing with humor along with an upturned smirk on his face. “Slow down there, doll. We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet.” It wasn’t the same voice she’d been hearing before—he spoke with a low, quiet pitch, each word articulated clearly and deliberately.

She repressed a grimace as best she could at the way he addressed her—despite her current stature and every survival instinct in her body, she felt the urge to punch him right in the gut. 

He gestured lightly to himself with a graceful arch of his fingers against his chest. “My name is Christopher Penn, and I am the lord of this estate.”

He did not, however, ask Danny for her own name. Instead, he took a few more steps toward her and, so quickly that she did not have enough time to form an initial protest, he bent down and picked her up, placing her in his palm as he rose to his full height again.

For just a moment, she didn’t think about the fact that she was a hundred feet off the ground. All she could focus on was the absolutely unparalleled, brazen gall that this man had to just pluck her off the ground like she was some child’s toy. Her lips curled in an unfriendly snarl. “I don’t care who the fuck you are, but you’d better ask next time you try and pick me up like that.” 

Being a little closer to his face now, she made note of the fact that this guy’s stupid big nose did look incredibly punchable. If only there wasn’t a hundred-foot drop between her and it.

She forced herself to keep her glare fixed entirely on Christopher, to prevent herself from looking down or showing signs of panic. She did not think about how strange it felt to have the warm surface beneath and behind her consist of a man’s entire hand, or how she could feel every groove and crease in the skin that her own hands pressed against. 

“It’s not very becoming to begin a conversation with such vulgar language.” A sharp grin told her he was only amused by her antics, though, not offended—even so, he tilted his head, almost as if her behavior confused him as well. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she hissed. She was liking this strange giant less and less every time he opened his mouth. “I must have forgotten my manners midway through the air. Is that from the same rich person etiquette book that says it's okay to pick up people without asking?”

Irritation and anger were a great distraction from fear, and so she leaned into both now, regardless of the consequence. She had some small amount of pride to maintain, and quaking before this man in terror would only serve to shatter what remained of it. 

He chuckled—a deep sound that she could almost feel travel through her body, now that she sat in his palms. “Sarcasm, hm? I’m impressed by your bravery. Most people tend to prefer screaming and running.”

“Oh, you’re telling me screaming is the usual response people have to you? Gee, I wonder why,” she said dryly. “Must be your natural charm.” 

His sharp eyes flicked over her, a hint of their humor dulled slightly. “You said you were looking for your friend, correct?”

“Yes,” she groaned, exasperated. How many times had she said as much since finding this place? It was beginning to feel like the question was being deliberately dodged. “My friend, Nathan Hayes. He was traveling this way earlier this morning, and his horse returned without him. Have you seen him? Whoever spoke to me outside seemed to know where he was. Maybe you can just let me talk to them instead,” she grumbled quietly, trying to dampen her distaste for this stuck-up rich bastard as much as possible in the interest of acquiring any sort of help in finding Nathan. She couldn’t very well bite the hand that fed her—or, more accurately, picked her up and carried her at a height that would make even a high-flying bird a little nauseous.

Her instinct was to lash out at people who talked down to her, but even she knew when she needed to swallow her pride.

Something inscrutable passed across Christopher’s face for a moment as he seemed to absorb her words thoughtfully, as if she’d given him some clue in a particularly interesting mystery he was trying to solve. And then he gave her that sharp smile again, a grin that tipped just a little further than cordiality normally permitted. Yet it still didn’t reach his eyes—which regarded her in a strangely calculating, detached manner. 

“There’s no need for that,” he remarked impassively. “Your friend is here.” 

For just a moment, her irritation faded away to the overwhelming euphoria of relief, like a bucket of cold water had been poured over her and washed it away in an instant. Nathan was here. She’d found him. He was—

Why was he here? 

As suddenly as the relief had come, she covered it with a heavy cloak of suspicion, something beginning to claw at the back of her mind distrustfully. “...and you’ll take me to him, right? He’s safe? …we can leave?”

She didn’t like the idea of traveling at night, no, but she was in no rush to accept hospitality from this man, either. She would feel much better once all this magic, giant weirdness was far behind her, a forgotten tale she could think back on as some kind of fever dream brought on by the cold, or the fact that she couldn’t remember when she’d eaten last.

Christopher, to her dismay, lifted Danny a little higher so that she no longer had to tilt her head back to look at him straight on. 

“I’m afraid not.” 

Anger wasn’t even the first emotion to flare up this time—she was completely baffled by such a stark response that she was rendered speechless for a moment, staring at him with her mouth slightly agape. “...why?” 

“Your friend came here uninvited this morning, trespassing into my home. His punishment is to remain here in my service, as long as I require him.” Christopher’s smirk turned to a more matter-of-fact expression, like the humorless countenance of a lawyer. “So no, I’m afraid I can’t let you leave with him at this time.” 

A heavy weight sank to the very pit of Danny’s stomach as she listened in disbelief. Nathan was here as this guy’s…what, prisoner? Slave? She didn’t believe for one second that what the giant said was true—Nathan wasn’t the type to impose on others. He’d apologize for someone else bumping into him on the street, there was no way he’d wander into someone’s home uninvited unless he was desperate. And even then, Danny wasn’t sure he wouldn’t choose freezing to death over being an inconvenience to anyone. Why would he have stopped at this house anyways? Had he gotten hurt? Had he been looking for help? He certainly wouldn’t have broken in.

“...bullshit,” she hissed, a righteous anger rising up in her. If she had been at all confident in her footing, she would have attempted to stand up and take on a more intimidating posture, but she would take the slightly undignified position of sitting in Christopher’s palm over the much more undignified falling onto her face in his palm, or the loss of all dignity entirely by plummeting to the floor in a humiliating splatter of shame and stupidity. “You expect me to believe that? Nathan’s a good guy, he wouldn’t break into your stupid house.”

She set her jaw defiantly. “And even if I did believe you, he was probably desperate, or lost, or needed help. Are you really that fucking selfish, punishing someone instead of helping them? As if he’s in any way actually a threat or a burden to your sorry giant ass?” 

Nothing she said seemed to even make a dent in Christopher’s uncaring expression, her insults and slights at his character seeming to fall on deaf ears. His smile twitched and his eyebrows raised in mild contempt. “You’re quite bold, you know. Speaking like that to someone of my standing. And to a giant, no less.” 

His free hand came up to pluck her off of his palm, effectively pinning her arms to her sides in his grip so that she couldn’t even scratch and claw at him like she suddenly quite desperately wanted to. She could only thrash about uselessly, though her violent movement was quelled slightly as her feet made contact with nothing but air. As she dangled in front of Christopher’s face, she realized that his grip was the only thing keeping her from a horrifyingly long freefall. 

“A less patient man might not tolerate that kind of talk,” he muttered dangerously, his thumb pressing lightly against her collarbone and forcing her to meet his eyes, which remained lightly amused despite the darkened tone he’d taken on. “But, luckily for you, I’m rather generous, and I’m nothing if not fair.” 

She only glared at him in response, an absolutely twisted and poisonous scowl distorting her face. Words seemed almost too good for this bastard, and so she took on a disdainful and stubborn silence instead.

His grip around her loosened slightly, still restricting her movement and keeping her firmly from falling but no longer forcing her neck into an uncomfortable position. This must have been his supposed “generosity” at work. 

His eyes narrowed slightly, assessing her with an even, shrewd gaze. “I’ll make you a deal. You stay in his place, and I’ll let him go free. How’s that, doll?” 

She would have spat in his face if she were closer. Instead, she seethed silently, though a frightened worry began to cloud her thinking. She hadn’t even seen Nathan yet, but the description the other voice had given her had been uncannily accurate. That couldn’t be a coincidence. And while this giant could be lying about a lot of things, Danny was very aware that she had little choice but to believe him. She couldn’t very well overpower him, or even escape on her own now. 

She refused to let her mind linger long on the choice—when her own life and wellbeing were weighed against that of her close friend, the rocksteady, kind, and loyal companion she’d known for years, who’d taken care of her through thick and thin like she were his very own sister, the decision was as easy as breathing. 

“My name is Danny, you smarmy bastard. And if what you say is true, I’ll…”

She swallowed the last bit of her pride, closing her eyes for a second in one last act of defiance so she didn’t have to look at the rich prick’s face when she spoke. 

“...I’ll take his place here. Just let. Him. Go.”

The giant smiled—a wide, cocky smirk that showed too many of his teeth for Danny’s liking. “Deal.”

* * * * * * * * * * 

Next chapter ->

We still haven't seen Nathan. Hopefully he's okay?

Thanks for reading, and see you next week with chapter 4, Small Mercies!

[mail-me-a-snail]

oc interview: ✨✨vance✨✨

thank you to @swearingcactus AND @glitchinginthegarden AND!! @v-eats-bugs for tagging me !! finally got to sit down and answer this :3

let's hit it !

🧡 Name?

"Just call me V."

his first chosen name was penn, but he started going by vance after his medical transition. he doesn't give it out freely bc that was the name arasaka knew him by; he doesn't mention his surname, either, bc it's a pretty prominent one with much of its members still working for the megacorp in question.

🧡 Nickname?

"...Well, last I checked, 's still V."

apart from "mano" from jackie, vance doesn't have much in terms of nicknames. his old netrunning handle was N3tH0und (net hound); it's a retired username that's been largely scrubbed from the net, but sometimes he signs his major hacks with it just to fuck with people. it's a ghost's name, and it's fun to haunt the net only when he knows for certain that it can't be traced back to him.

🧡 Gender?

"Guy! Never been asked that outright before."

🧡 Star sign?

"'s not my scene--can't say I know much about it--but Misty's got me down as a Cancer, whatever that means. Says that's probably why I'm, er, so 'intuitive', as she called it. You ask me, that's just the merc work--bein' able to read a room, that is."

i first drew vance on july 7, 2023, so i consider that his birthday. like vance, i have no idea how being a cancer applies to him, but google says cancers are loyal, domestically inclined, and committed to their loved ones, so that sounds about right!

🧡 Height?

"Six flat. Johnny's pretty sure I'm taller than 'im...but he's slouchin' all the time, so don't think he's got a say in it."

🧡 Orientation?

"Usually go for other guys. But I guess the definition of that is pretty loose these days, 'specially in NC, huh. The hell does it matter to me if you've got certain...parts. If you're a guy, you're a guy, and if you're down, I'm down, y'know?"

vance is a gay man with a preference for masculine-identifying individuals. like he said, if you identify as a "guy" in any form, then that's good enough for him. he's not one to talk about having "appropriate" parts, and he thinks it's dumb that they're gendered in the first place. he's not usually looking for anything serious and he's more than okay with just being an input and having one as well.

🧡 Nationality/ethnicity?

"Nay's Indian. Tay's Filipino. Ya ask anyone, I look more like my mom."

nanay and tatay are the filipino words for mother and father, respectively. vance has a very limited grasp of either language but he at least knows that much from his dad's mother tongue.

🧡 Favorite fruit?

"Oh, man, 's been a while--this one time when I was growin' up, think I was ten or eleven, 'Saka sent Dad a basket of 'ganic fruit. For his 50 years o' service, I think it was. Anyway, had my first apple then. What I wouldn't fuckin' give for one right now."

he likes fuji apples the best :3

🧡 Favorite season?

"Gotta be winter. I got to go a lot of places back in '65--Europe, mostly--an' most of them were snowy. Loved seein' my breath fog up. You don't get that here. You get hot rains and the pavement steamin'--guess it's pretty, in its way, with all the city's neon shinin' through the rain.

"But it ain't a real winter without snow."

🧡 Favorite flower?

"If ya hike it out to the Badlands in the summer, you'll find these little white flowers blooming on the cacti; Net says they're called Saguaro blooms. I like their...tenacity, I 'spose."

"But if I had to give ya a traditional answer...blue hydrangeas. Maya--she used to grow 'em in her apartment, still don't know how she did it--she gave me some blooms for my birthday back in '70. A welcome home kinda thing. Don't got her green thumb, so they died a week later...but they were real pretty. Somethin' to look forward to comin' home to."

🧡 Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?

"Coffee--can't say it works for me, though."

he likes all three and refuses to drink his coffee black. he will put so much milk and creamer in that cup that it might as well be a dessert. johnny is disgusted (affectionate).

🧡 Average hours of sleep?

"...Hours, plural?"

vance is a champ at power naps and between the relic and an insomnia left over from his arasaka days, he doesn't get to bed much. if you do somehow get him into bed by morning, however, be prepared to not see him until near-evening the next day.

🧡 Dog or cat person?

note: those 10,000 photos are just the ones he has on his phone; do not look at the cloud where his kiroshi photos are stored.

🧡 Dream trip?

"...Was actually, erm, thinkin' of--well, when we get all this shit sorted out--I was thinkin'...might bring Johnny somewhere colder. Somewhere with snow. Said he hasn't seen snow before, so, I-unno, thought he might like it out there."

please take this time to imagine johnny in his android body nuzzled up to vance in the snow, red-faced and, for the first time in a long time, in awe. they're going to have hot chocolate later in some cabin vance rented out for the season--but right now, they're watching their shared breath cloud together in the air, simpatico even in this.

🧡 Favorite fictional character?

"Oh, oh--there's this real old holovid I used to loop when I was fifteen. 's fucked how they got most of it right. Anyhow, Rick Deckard. I used to think he was so damn cool."

deckard, with his big-collared jacket and general gruffness, was definitely one of vance's transition goals. that, and he watched br2049 right after--with how deckard was treating K, vance started projecting Really Fucking Heavily on K. like wow! you're a total killing machine with a father who just might love you. that's crazay man. could not be me

🧡 Number of blankets you sleep with?

"Run pretty warm as it is already, so just the one. Like the...texture of it, as it were. The weight o' it."

get this man a weighted blanket please god. i think it would fix him. alternatively, just lay on top of him and he'll be happy.

🧡 Random fact?

"I used to klep a lotta shit when I was a kid. Wires, chips, motherboards--mostly tech, really, from the vendin' machines and bus stops 'round the city. Sold 'em for a pretty eddie down in Heywood; got no buyers in the Hill, not when we could all afford the tech those Heywood kids were tryin' to kitbash together in the first place. Don't really know why I did it.

"To strike out, maybe? Maybe I liked the challenge. There's somethin' about makin' a machine give its own parts to you; get a vending machine to dispense its motherboard, a bus stop sign its LED, and ya feel like ya can make anythin' bend to your will."

--

thank you again for the tags!! this was a lot of fun to do :3

tagging @netripper , @knuckle-cluster, @matapang-coffee, and

@nakitengoku AND whoever else would like to do this! no pressure to do so ofc!!

if u ever dont want to be tagged in these kinds of posts, just lmk!

[martsonmars]

@messofthejess asked: If each member of the Carry On cast was a type of pasta, what type would they be?

[Tumblr killed the ask]

OMG obsessed. Thank you for the question it's so important to me. I'm limiting myself to the main gang but PLEASE (you or anyone else) feel free to send asks or comment with other characters, I'd love to answer but I don't want to feel overwhelmed with choices.

I'm also not letting myself overthink this. There might be better answers but I'm going with gut feelings or I'll never post this. I'm going with shapes.

Baz is definitely long pasta. Reginette, with they're elegant, fancy, sharp edges. I just know the guy doesn't want to fit in the pot. So many people don't know how to handle him. Long and thin. HARD TO KILL BUT NOT TO BREAK. And when he's safe he reveals his true form. Which is still hard to handle. You need practice. You might be tempted to cut into smaller pieces. But the only way to actually savour who he is is to get past all these obstacles and wrap him around your fork and you finally understand. He could be trenette/linguine too but mostly because in my region they're eaten with pesto, and you know. Basil. Etc.

Simon is rigatoni or tortiglioni or any of the similar shapes. He's a sturdy pasta. A fighter. One the people love, but might take for granted. And yet he'll always be ready to save your meal, square shoulders and jaw. He's ready to take any challenge, and when it's finally time to rest he won't let himself go too soft. He'll keep his fierce, solid, thick shape and demand to be loved strongly. He can take it. And we all know that this is the kind of pasta to eat with a nice, rich sauce, just like our boy deserves. A sauce that sticks, that fills up all the spaces. Because we know that holes just want to be filled.

Penny is penne. Of course. The name speaks for itself, but it's also a correct choice. A no bullshit shape. One that thinks she's better than anyone else, but is she? Only trial and error will tell. But she remains a solid choice, reliable and always there for you if you're one of her trusted friends. She'll never let you down. As long as she doesn't start doubting herself. But she won't for too long, because who would doubt penne?

Agatha is difficult. I'm going with farfalle. She's pretty and elegant and sophisticated, but also misjudged and belittled and mistreated. People will see only what's on the outside and take it at face value — seeing her as too good to be true, or instead as childish and not caring about what truly matters — and won't delve deeper to see the truth. Which is that her core — the core of her beauty, of her power — is stronger than one thinks.

Shep is one of my favourite shapes — ruote. I was going to pick lasagne for him (rich and intense and friendly and happy to use their layers to host different kinds of savoury experiences), but this is perfect too. For his truck, his sense of adventure, chasing tornadoes and creatures and friends and never letting anything — danger or unpleasant British mages — stop him from being one of the best guys you'll have the fortune of meeting on your path.

[just-antithings]

I always suspected as much, but it's still nice to get confirmation that the typical claim from antis about how "normal people" agrees with them is bullshit. Context is non-fandom person commenting on (in reference to Penn Badgley not wanting to do any more intimacy scenes) how kids basically want the Hays Code back.

A puritan: "I've always felt it weird that as an audience, we're exposed to intimate moments the characters haven't consented to sharing. Making the viewer an accidental voyeur at best, leaving us guilty of some form of sexual crime (I'm not sure which exactly) at worst"

Types of replies from the "normal people":

"WTF are you talking about"

"The characters aren't real/don't exist/are fictional" (The puritan: "Fictional to the audience and fictional to the character are very different things." The normies: what)

Assuming the puritan is a young teen

Assuming the puritan is a troll

Pointing out the characters aren't consenting to anything that happens to them

yeah that’s always nice to see

[world-cinema-research]

Bonnie and Clyde (1967) Blog Essay

By: Jillian Arnold

"This here's Miss Bonnie Parker. I'm Clyde Barrow. We rob banks."

The film, Bonnie and Clyde, is a well-known and controversial film that has been talked about for decades. The film follows a waitress, Bonnie Parker, as she falls in love with a criminal named Clyde Barrow, and together they begin a life of crime with each other in 1934. The film follows their life of crime as they rob Banks and pick up other people for their gang such as Buck Barrow, Clyde’s brother, and his wife, Blanche, as well as their getaway driver C.W. Moss. together, they form the barrel gang and fulfill a life of crime with robbing banks, stealing cars, and murder all through the country. The movie action keeps you on your toes throughout the entire film as they have close calls with the police catching them and as they go through the ups and downs of a life of crime.

The film was directed by Arther Penn and starred Warren Beatty as Clyde Barrow and Faye Dunaway as Bonnie Parker. Even with the film’s R rating, it still did well in the box office and has become a beloved film. The film released on August 13th, 1967 and made $50,700,000 domestically, even with the film’s $2,500,000 budget. The film had 22 wins and 29 nominations, with Estelle Parson winning Best Actress in a Supporting Role at the Oscars and winning Best Cinematography at the Oscars as well. 

The film is believed to follow the true story of Bonnie and Clyde, but in reality it is less than 5% historically accurate. Bonnie and Clyde did not emerge as full-blown figures that were instantly popular and were in every newspaper. In reality, they rarely tried to rob banks and  in reality, their burglaries were committed in mom-and-pop grocery stores and filling stations along the back roads. What made them so popular was they were robbers during the Great Depression and made a bigger impact on people because everyone was so poor at the time and struggling. There are also other inaccuracies in the film, such as Bonnie had married at a young age and never got divorced while Clyde had done prison time early on and was on parole when he met Bonnie. The film did have its accuracies to their true story such as how honestly depicted the number of police and guards to it died in their bank robberies because Bonnie and Clyde had no aversions to kill when they thought they needed to.

An image of the real Bonnie and Clyde in the 1930s.

The film in 1967 was so controversial to audiences because the film opened the floodgates to heighten graphic violence in cinema and TV and de-glamorized what it means to die by being shot by bullets. The violence on this level had never been seen in the media before as well as the nudity in the film. The film was also controversial because of the release during the social unrest, the Vietnam war, and the civil rights movements in the United States. During the year there were protests and riots over America standings in the Vietnam war, which caused hostility and unease over the nation. There was also unjustness and unease with segregation in the unfair treatment of people of different races. With the violence happening in America at the time and the amount of violence in the film, it could’ve made people uneasy about the unstable times.  But the unstable times could’ve also made people want to go to the movies, since it’s a classic thing to do with friends or family, so that’s also why I could’ve been a massive success. 

People protesting on the streets about America’s standing in the Vietnam war and how they want America to pull out of it for the well-being of America and Vietnam. 

Photo of African Americans fighting for fair treatment and to be equal to the white man because they shouldn’t be treated differently due to their skin tone. 

The film was a controversial, but conventional film because it was based on real people, and the characters were portrayed by stars of Hollywood. The film handled portraying the real events of the story well and kept it historically accurate and with Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway, it kept the story clear and interesting the whole time. Even though the film is conventional, it does not take away from all it’s earned and how great of a film it is, then and now. 

“Why? What do you mean, ‘Why?’ Because you’re different, that’s why. You know, you’re like me. You want different things. You got somethin’ better than bein’ a waitress.”

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Stargazing

PAIRING | Tom Hiddleston x Best friend!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 1.3K

SUMMARY | Tom invited you for a nice dinner at his place, and the two of you ended up in his garden, watching the stars in each other's arms. When you both see a falling star, you make a wish, but the two of you don't know that you're both wishing for the same thing; to be friends for the rest of your lives.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. The reader is a smoker (as a coping mechanism),

A/N | If you have a request for Tom, please don't hesitate to drop them in my inbox! I'd love to work on more fics for him, and I always think all of you come up with the best ideas! 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist | Tom Hiddleston Masterlist

Tom has invited you for dinner tonight, and you're getting ready to head there. The two of you have been friends for a long time and share absolutely everything whit each other. Recently he has been helping you through a tough breakup, and once a week, you have dinner together. Tonight, it's at his house.

You come out of the shower and wrap yourself in your fluffiest towel and your hair into a smaller towel for your hair. The mirror is fogged up from the steam, and you wipe it away to get a good look at yourself.

Ever since the breakup, you haven't been taking the best care of yourself, but for a week or two, life seems kind to you, and you're definitely getting better.

When you're done looking at yourself, you walk into the bedroom and towards your closet, trying to pick out an outfit for dinner. You inform Tom you'll drive to his house on your motorbike, so you need a comfortable fit.

Eventually, you settle on a black outfit with a red leather jacket and a pair of Dr. Martens. You dry yourself off and get into some comfy underwear before getting the clothes on, finishing it with your glasses.

The next step is your hair and make-up, but you decide to keep it simple, so your hair is styled in its natural form, and your make-up is natural too. When you're happy with the look, it's time to leave; you never told Tom when you would arrive, so you decide to make your way over now.

The drive to his house is lovely; the weather works in your favor today. By the time you arrive, you park your bike in his backyard, not wanting it to be stolen.

Tom left the patio doors open, and you walked in through those; he was already preparing for dinner by the smell of it.

''Tom, I'm here!'' you shout, and not long after, he emerges from the kitchen with open arms.

''Y/N! It's good to see you!'' he says, a big smile immediately appearing at the sight of you. ''Looking even more beautiful than the last time I saw you,''.

''Oh Tom, stop it!'' you say as you softly swat his chest, but you secretly enjoy it when he compliments you. You wrap your arms around his waist as he pulls you in for a hug.

''I missed you,'' he says, kissing your hair, and you don't want to let go just yet.

''I missed you too, but I'm glad I'm here again. Your food smells amazing, by the way; what are you making for me today?'' you ask, following the scent to the kitchen.

''I decided to keep it a little on the easy side today when it comes to dinner, so I'm making creamy penne with sausage and sun-dried tomatoes. I will make some garlic bread too, and I have a special treat for dessert. Still, you will have to wait to figure out what that will be,'' Tom says as he returns to his spot at the stove, ensuring everything is still going according to the recipe.

''How is work? You started the filming for season 2 of Loki, right?'' you ask, and he gets a slight smile.

''Yeah, it's incredible, actually. Can't tell you too much about it yet, but it's nice to get back into the swing of things,'' he says, and you nod. You're not an actress, but you can guess how it feels.

''Fair enough. Well, I can't wait to see it! Can I go smoke outside? I'll be right back,'' you ask, and he nods.

''I still think you should stop, though; it's bad enough he ruined your relationship; you shouldn't let him ruin your body like that, too,'' Tom says, referring to your ex-boyfriend. It's because of him you started smoking to get through the days.

''I know, and I will soon,'' you say before stepping outside, grabbing your cigarettes from your jacket pocket and your lighter. You put a cigarette between your lips and light it before taking a deep inhale.

''How's work going for you?'' Tom asks as he walks your way.

''Stressful, mostly. But that's what you get when you're the head of marketing,'' you shrug, blowing the smoke out slowly. This is the easiest way to clear your head, and even though you're already smoking less, you should stop soon.

''That's fair. Maybe it's time for you to get someone to help you; it's not healthy to be this stressed out for so long,'' he says, and again, you know Tom is right. ''You're already going through a tough enough time, and I need you to take good care of yourself. I'm not ready to lose you at such a young age,'' he says, making you tear up a little.

You and Tom have been inseparable for years at this point, being friends since college. You two were friends with the same people, but you two are the only ones left in that friend group.

When your cigarette is gone, you put the bud in the ashtray he always leaves out when you visit and head back inside after popping two tictacs in your mouth.

''Do you want me to prepare the dinner table while you finish cooking?'' you ask, and he nods.

''That would be appreciated, thank you,'' he says, walking back into the kitchen.

You grab two placemats, as well as two bowls and cutlery. You place them on the table outside since it's a beautiful day. Lastly, you grab two wine glasses and a bottle of wine out of the fridge before putting those down as well.

''Alright, the table is ready, so we can eat when the food is done!'' you tell him and walk back to the kitchen to see the progress of the food.

Suddenly the oven bell dings, notifying that the garlic bread is done. You grab an oven mitt and the tray out of the oven, placing them on the counter to let it cool a little before putting them in a bowl.

''Everything smells so good,'' you say, and suddenly your belly starts to rumble. ''See? My stomach agrees!'' you speak, and the both of you laugh wholeheartedly.

The conversation over dinner is easy and lighthearted, precisely what you need. When the two of you are ready for dessert, Tom gets up, telling you to stay outside since he wants it to be a surprise.

He gets his homemade tiramisu out of the fridge and walks over to where you're seated. ''Tadaa!'' he says as he shows it to you.

''Did you recreate the tiramisu you made for our first dinner together?'' you ask, and you laugh, feeling very appreciated.

''Well, except for the huge amount of alcohol in that one, I did! I definitely toned it down this time around,'' he says.

''Thank god for that; I still have to drive home later,'' you say, and Tom puts it on the table with a laugh.

''Don't worry. Here, let me get you some,'' he grabs a spatula and scoops out a big piece, knowing it's your favorite dessert.

The two of you go through it like crazy; before you know it, all of it is gone.

You and Tom stayed outside for quite some time, and eventually, the two of you moved over to a blanket on the grass to watch the stars.

''I can never get enough of looking at the stars. I'm glad it's such a clear night,'' you say, and Tom agrees.

You moved over to cuddle in his arms, your head on his chest to have the perfect view.

''Look, a falling star!'' you say, and Tom saw it too. ''Come on, let's make a wish!'' the two of you do just that. You didn't know that you both wished for the same thing.

I wish to be your best friend for the rest of my life.

[mariacallous]

WASHINGTON (JTA) — Over the weekend, one Jewish Democratic congressman joined with Elise Stefanik, the number-three Republican in the House of Representatives, to demand accountability for antisemitism.

Another took to cable TV to say she had no credibility on the issue.

The gap between the two Jewish Democrats — Florida’s Jared Moskowitz and Maryland’s Jamie Raskin — illustrates a broader dilemma for liberal Jews. Moskowitz joined with Stefanik to demand that three elite universities fire their leaders for failing to protect Jews on campus, while Raskin told MSNBC that Stefanik is a leading enabler of antisemitism because she has echoed a conspiracy theory that has fueled antisemitic violence.

The split on Stefanik stems from a congressional hearing last week in which she asked the presidents of Harvard University, the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and the University of Pennsylvania if “calling for the genocide of Jews” is against the universities’ codes of conduct. All three, weighing campus conduct codes against free speech imperatives, said the answer depended on the context. In the ensuing outrage, Penn President Liz Magill stepped down and pressure built on Harvard’s Claudine Gay to do the same.

For some, Stefanik emerged from the meeting as an unexpected champion of the fight against antisemitism. Moskowitz said in a Fox News interview that Stefanik “did a great job” questioning the university presidents and signed a letter demanding their resignations. 

In the past, however, the upstate New York Republican has drawn condemnation for comments echoing the white supremacist “great replacement theory,” which in its original form claims that Jews are orchestrating the mass immigration of people of color into Western nations in order to replace their white populations. In 2021, Stefanik’s campaign posted on social media that Democrats plan to “overthrow our current electorate” by allowing undocumented immigrants to enter the country.

That statement by Stefanik has placed some Jews in an ambivalent spot: surprised to find themselves cheering her on.

“I felt very strange, kind of like rooting her on when she was asking her questions,” recalled Jewish philanthropist Lisa Greer. “I just thought ‘this is really amazing.’ And then I kept thinking, well, it looks like Elise Stefanik, but is that really her? I couldn’t believe it was the same person.”

Betsy Sheerr, a Democratic donor and a philanthropist who has given to multiple Jewish and pro-Israel causes, said she appreciated Stefanik for getting results.

“I think that she said what a lot of us were thinking when we listened to the testimony, to be honest, and as harsh as she was — she was really grilling them — I think a lot of us watched that and said you know, that’s absolutely right, this is unacceptable, this is ridiculous, this is cowardice,” Sheerr said from Israel, where she was on a solidarity tour. “So you know in that way I would have to begrudgingly admit that she shone a light and there were results that might not have happened without the directness of her grilling people.”

Raskin, speaking Sunday on MSNBC, said that Stefanik’s enabling of antisemitism in her party disqualified her from any role in combating antisemitism on campus.

“Where does Elise Stefanik get off lecturing anybody about antisemitism, when she’s the hugest supporter of Donald Trump, who traffics in antisemitism all the time?” Raskin said, according to an account in The Hill. He added that she “didn’t utter a peep of protest” when Trump dined a year ago with Kanye West, the rapper who embraced antisemitism, and Nick Fuentes, a Holocaust denier.

Stefanik responded on X that Trump was “the best friend Jewish people have had in the White House in modern times.” She listed a number of Trump’s Israel policies, such as moving the U.S. embassy to Jerusalem, as well as his 2019 executive order on antisemitism.

Stefanik’s past actions did not deter the country’s leading antisemitism watchdog from sharing video of the congressional hearing. In 2022, after a mass shooting in Buffalo inspired by the “great replacement” theory, the Anti-Defamation League criticized Stefanik as on of its propagators, saying her campaign’s posts “strategically play on extremist rhetoric to stoke growing fears that white Americans are under attack and minorities seek to eject them.”

Yet its CEO, Jonathan Greenblatt, posted a video the day of the hearing that starred Stefanik. “These leaders’ lack of moral clarity in response to this line of questioning is shameful,” he said on X, formerly Twitter.

Greenblatt and Stefanik did not return requests for comment.

Amy Spitalnick, the CEO of the Jewish Council for Public Affairs, said Stefanik could not disentangle antisemitism from the left, which Stefanik repudiates, from antisemitism on the right, which Stefanik ignores.

“It’s important to understand how deeply connected all of this antisemitism is, they are all rooted in conspiracy theories around Jewish control and power,” said Spitalnick, who played a leading role in successfully suing the neo-Nazi organizers of the deadly Charlottesville march, who chanted “Jews will not replace us.” 

“By normalizing great replacement and related extremism, there’s this horseshoe effect where it inadvertently or intentionally fuels the idea that Jews have outsized power and control,” Spitalnick said. “And it all comes back in a way that is deeply dangerous not just for the Jewish community, but for everyone.”

What bothers Sheerr was her gut instinct that Stefanik would not walk back her own incendiary comments from 2021, or more robustly confront antisemitism in her own party. She noted that Stefanik started out as a moderate, and is now a loyalist of Trump — who also has peddled versions of the “great replacement” theory.

“She has really turned into one of the propagators of some of the vilest antisemitism,” Sheerr said. “She doesn’t call out anybody in her party, or anything, whether it’s for [peddling the] dual loyalty trope, or any of the other tropes, so I think she has done a service in a way but she’s a very dangerous member of Congress.”

Greer also wondered whether Stefanik would budge on her earlier views. “The best thing I can say about this is I wish in a perfect world she would have changed, she would say ‘I don’t believe that,’ and she would use that voice for good. That would be a wonderful thing,” she said. “But I have no sense that that’s going to happen.”

Others are more optimistic. Esther Panitch, a Democratic representative in the Georgia state legislature who has been outspoken in confronting anti-Israel sentiment in her own party, said she hoped that part of what spurred Stefanik to take the lead in confronting the university presidents was the lessons she learned from her flirtation with the great replacement theory.

“It seems she’s educated herself since the comments last year,” Panitch said in an interview. “I’m hopeful that’s what happened, and that she wasn’t trying to score a few points. I’m appreciative of what she did.”

Meanwhile, Rep. Kathy Manning, a Jewish North Carolina Democrat, accused Stefanik of acting in bad faith after she appeared to have copied sections of a letter written by Manning that criticized the college presidents. Manning posted two letters on Twitter, hers and the one Stefanik and Moskowitz authored.  The first three paragraphs were identical and Manning said Stefanik had plagiarized her. “Rep. Stefanik is trying to get a sound bite and media hits,” she said.

Stefanik replied on X, formerly Twitter, that she made changes to the letter and then circulated it to Republican members. She accused Manning of “trying to do a hit piece to help panicked Democrats who are clearly on the wrong side of history protecting these university presidents.”

[keep-calm-and-drink-caf]

“ dance with me, darling ”

A Fives one-shot

Pairing: Fives x fem!Reader (I’ve tried to keep it as neutral as I could, but I think it might work better with reader being female)

Words count: 1.6k

Warnings: No use of (Y/N), use of pet names (love, darling), use of Mando’a nickname (cyare, darling) kissing, making out, a small sexual reference but it’s so small it may not actually matter idk, and I think that’s all! Mostly just fluffy stuff <3

A/N: I’m sorry if I butchered pasta but I don’t know how to make it any way else without searching for a recipe 😭 also, this is my first time sharing any of my writing with the internet - please be kind 🫶 Any constructive criticism or suggestions are welcome :D

So I had this stored in my notes and I kind of maybe liked it! I’m working on a Mando/Din x reader thing along with several others so it’s really just a race to see which one piques my creativity so much that I choose it and get it done lol

Expect the first chapter of the din x reader sometime soon! Uni is kicking my butt right now so I don’t have a concrete date but I’ll try my best :)

Have a soft Fives one-shot for fall (and spooky) month <3

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It was a quiet, cozy night for you. Fives was on shore leave for a week and so you got to spend some peaceful quality time with the love of your life, in whatever way that manifested itself.

Presently you lay on the couch and scrolled mindlessly on your datapad as Fives sat with your head in his lap, gently playing with your hair. The soft sound of the clock ticking filled the comfortable silence between you as you both relaxed together.

“We should cook something,” He suddenly spoke up, and at his words you looked up at him from your datapad, a skeptical brow lifting. His eyes had started to sparkle with excitement, a plan already forming in his head. “You know, like a pasta or something. C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“Fives, love, I’m not very sure you should be trusted within three metres of the stove again,” You chuckled softly, reaching a hand up to brush your fingers against the base of his chin, smoothing down some of the hair in his goatee. “Do I really need to remind you of that time where you almost burnt down the kitchen trying to make bread?”

He pretended to pout sadly. “That was one time,” Fives complained, gently tickling your sides and causing you to squirm slightly as you batted his fingers away playfully. “And I know how to use a stove properly now, cyare, really. Stop laughing!”

He attacked your sides again, launching a barrage of tickles as you giggled and tried to squirm out of his gentle but firm grasp. “Fine, fine,” You gasped, wheezing slightly and still giggling. “Pasta it is. Nothing too fancy, right? I’m not sure our combined cooking skills could handle anything more than a simple penne and marinara…”

“That’s my girl,” Fives said happily, leaping up from the couch. You followed, slightly reluctant to leave your comfy position. “Okay, let’s see. A recipe for penne marinara. Here, this looks relatively easy, right?”

You angled your head to look over his shoulder at the recipe he had found. “Well… yeah, that looks pretty easy. Could you get the tomatoes for me? They’re on the highest shelf over there.”

Once you had assembled all the ingredients, you debated whether to assign yourself the more difficult task of properly making the marinara sauce or give it to Fives. “Fives, boil the pasta f’me, will you, love?” You passed him the uncooked penne and got out the pasta pot. “Try not to set the kitchen on fire.”

You got out the tomatoes, starting to mash them with the back of a spoon. You crushed a few cloves of garlic and let them steep in olive oil before adding the tomato paste into the garlic-laced oil and letting it cook. You leaned against the kitchen island, watching Fives carefully put the penne into the water, making sure the heat was set to just the right temperature and waiting for them to boil.

He watched the water for five whole minutes before sighing. “Well, this is kind of boring.”

“Five minutes,” You smiled at him, pretending to tap the nonexistent watch on your wrist. “That’s a new personal best, isn’t it?”

He stuck his tongue out at you like a huffy little toddler before coming over and leaning against the counter with you, placing a soft kiss to your right temple. “I missed you, cyare,” He murmured against your skin, his hands coming to rest around your waist as he drew you closer into him. “So much, every day.”

He brought your hand up to his chest to rest over his heart, feeling the steady beat through the thin layers of clothing as opposed to the thick plastoid armour. “You feel this heart? It beats for you, my darling, and only you,” Fives said with a soft smile, quoting the first ever sappy romantic holofilm you both had watched together, before it started the tradition to do so every time Fives came back on shore leave.

“You’re such a sap,” You shook your head affectionately, leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips. “I missed you too, Fives.”

You wanted to stay like that forever, relishing the comforting hold he had on your waist, but the timer going off brought you back to your senses. Fives, being closer to the stove, turned the heat off for the marinara sauce so that it wouldn’t burn, then flipped a switch on the radio with a goofy, adorable grin at you.

“Dance with me, darling,” He chuckled, watching your expression turn into one of mixed exasperation and affection as one of the most annoying lively old love songs you had ever heard started playing merrily on the radio. “Come on, cyare, don’t be such a debbie downer.”

“I hate this song,” You complained, but a small grin was forming on your lips. You let him grab your right hand and extend it over your head as he twirled you around the kitchen as if you were both in one of those old romantic comedies he loved watching with you so much. Your left hand came to rest on his shoulder to stabilize yourself in case you managed to overbalance while he spun and dipped you.

“That’s the idea,” Fives grinned at you, his eyes fixed on yours as if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen — which, of course, you were. As the music slowed and trailed off, he pulled you closer, taking your chin between his index finger and thumb. You both moved like clockwork as your lips met in a sweet, tender kiss. One just soft enough to leave you craving more but long enough to frazzle whatever coherent thoughts were running around in your mind.

Your lungs had just started to burn when you finally pulled away, taking in deep breaths of oxygen that your deprived lungs were crying out for. “That pasta is going to burn,” You giggled breathlessly as Fives swiped his right thumb across your flushed cheek. His eyes crinkled as he laughed, the sound filling the kitchen and going straight to your heart as you felt a rush of fierce affection for him.

“Oh, no, we wouldn’t want that now, would we? Can’t have the kitchen almost burning down again, right cyare? Except, of course, it wouldn’t be my fault this time…” He gave you a smirk and placed a kiss on your forehead and moved away toward the stove, switching off the heat right as the pasta was about to burn. You busied yourself with mixing the pasta into the sauce and cooking it just right, very aware of Fives watching you fondly as he leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen.

“You gonna come here and taste this or just stand there ogling me, love?” You turned to face him with a teasing smirk curled on your mouth. You held up a teaspoon of the marinara, offering it to him. He leaned over and closed his mouth over the spoon, drawing back as the strong flavours of the marinara registered. Fives blinked in surprise. “Oh. Oh, wow, that’s actually… really, really good.”

“Of course it is. Don’t tell me you doubted me?” You set the spoon down and leaned on the kitchen counter, placing a hand on your heart as you gave a dramatic gasp of exaggerated hurt. “Oh, my darling, I had no idea you could be this cruel—“

Fives cut you off with another kiss on your lips, this time a little rougher but only slightly. That shut you up right away, your arms abandoning the simmering pot on the stove to wrap around his neck. His tongue traced along the rim of your bottom lip gently, before the warmth left your mouth and he pulled back with a small chuckle at your whine of protest.

“Plenty of time for that later, cyare,” He cooed at your puppy eyes, tucking a few dislodged strands of hair behind your ear. You pouted with a sad little sigh and turned back to the pasta, turning off the heat once it was well-mixed with the sauce and spooning it into two bowls.

“You ready to taste the final product?” You asked Fives, practically shoving a bowl and a spoon into his hands with an excited gleam in your eye. Fives took the bowl from you with a small chuckle at your enthusiasm. “I have an idea, cyare. Let’s find another one of those romantic holofilms you love so much, yeah?”

Your eyes lit up even more at his suggestion and you immediately nodded, dragging him over to the living room as carefully as you could without spilling the pasta. You got out a fuzzy blanket from the basket near the table. “Fives, love, could you pick out-“ You cut yourself off with a yelp as he grabbed you from behind, easily manoeuvring you into a bridal carry and setting you down on the couch. He plopped down beside you, pulling you into his side and draping the blanket over both of you.

“Here, my princess,” He offered you your bowl of pasta with a smirk, and at the nickname a blush started sweeping across your cheeks again. “You’re such a sap, you know that?” You rolled your eyes affectionately as you picked out a holofilm to watch and he laughed. “Come on, you know you love it.”

“Of course I do, love. And you know I always will.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──