#i'm american so i do it the american way sorry lol

[intheticklecloset]

Heya! I saw sentence starters were open, so I figured I'd send something in! No pressure though!^^ Maybe you could do something with ler Ranpo and lee Atsushi with the sentence starter, “You lose, I tickle you. Deal?” ?

I hope you're having a good day!!

Ooh, this is such a cute idea!! I never would have thought of a fic with these two! Thank you for the prompt! ^^

~~~

“If you win, I’ll let you off the hook. But if you lose, I tickle you. Deal?”

Atsushi’s eyes went wide. He hadn’t realized that swiping some of Ranpo’s chocolate as a gift for Akutagawa would bring such consequences, but he was here now, so he had to deal with them.

“O-Okay, deal,” he stammered, already glancing around the office like he was going to have any clue where to begin.

Ranpo grinned and leaned back in his chair lazily, waving a hand at him. “Go on. I’ll even give you a little longer than usual.”

Atsushi turned and bolted out of the office, hurrying down the hall to his coworker’s locker. All he had to do was figure out the code and break in before Ranpo came for him. Or, more specifically, for his chocolate – which Atsushi had stolen. That’s how he’d gotten into this situation in the first place. But it wasn’t his fault! Ranpo’s locker door had been left open, and it wasn’t like he didn’t have a ton of other candy…

Atsushi shook his head. No time for that now. He had work to do.

He tried everything obvious first – Ranpo’s birthday, Poe’s birthday, Fukuzawa’s birthday, the ADA’s founding date – nothing. All of it was wrong. Then he tried the time Ranpo had probably realized his sweets were missing, as well as a couple of other time-related combos. Again, nothing.

He was up against the world’s greatest detective. This was impossible!

The door to the offices opened. Atsushi froze as Ranpo strolled out into the hall, sauntering toward him with a smirk on his face.

“Figure it out?” he asked.

“N-No,” Atsushi replied, shifting into a sitting position. There was no point in trying to run, and really, didn’t he deserve this? He should have just bought the chocolate himself. It probably would have meant more that way…

Ranpo stopped in front of him and crouched, still smirking. “Really? I’m surprised. I figured you’d get it immediately.”

Atsushi frowned. “But…why would you make it obvious if you didn’t want me to get into your stuff in the first place? Which I shouldn’t have, I know, I’m sorry.”

Ranpo grabbed his ankle and dragged him away from the lockers so he was lying in the middle of the hall. Then he straddled him and gently began prodding into his sides. “If I was really mad, I’d be making you buy me twice as much as you stole. You wanna know what the code is, Atsushi?”

The weretiger giggled helplessly, embarrassed but willing to take this punishment for his crime. “W-Whahahahahat?”

“0-3-0-1.”

Atsushi’s eyes went wide. That was… “Ahahahahakutagawa’s bihihihihirthday? You knohohohow that?”

“Of course. He means a lot to you, and you mean a lot to us.” Ranpo’s smirk softened into a smile even as he switched tactics and started scribbling all over Atsushi’s belly instead. “So, you stole about five chocolate bars, right? I think a minute for every bar will do.”

“Buhuhuhuhuhut why wohohohohohould you make thahahahahat your cohohohohohode? And why tehehehehehehell me?”

“Oh, I’ll change it after this, don’t worry,” Ranpo replied, chuckling. “I just wanted to know how obsessed with him you really were is all~”

Atsushi felt himself blushing, and not just from the tickling making him laugh and squeal. “Rahahahahahahanpo…!”

[that-was-anticlimactic]

i think it's about time that we acknowledge that, no, that character would Not change their name in a groupchat! especially not to that. and, no, that character would not change everyone else's names! especially not to that.

[won4youu]

Kiss Cam.

pairing: bsf!jake x downbad!reader

genres: fluff, suggestive?, idiots to lovers(sorta)

wc: 5.7k

warning: well there's a kiss cam involved so they kiss 🤭, use of cuss words, also idk anything about American football so I'm sorry if there's anything wrong about it lolol

a/n: this has been collecting dust in our drafts for wayyy too long lol soooo if you like it please reblog and consider following!

written by both @raven-naaaaa and @theaspen

You know that feeling when you look at your best friend and your heart skips a beat, and their smile makes you smile and the entire world seems to fade into the background and it feels like it's just you and him in the room?

Yeah, apparently not everyone felt that way about their best friend. But..you did.

Jake Sim made you so goddamn happy.

Whenever his eyes searched for yours in every crowded room, and the instant smile that accompanied his starry eyes when he recognized your face, your heart did a little tap dance.Either you were projecting your thoughts onto him or just maybe, he liked you too.

But here's the thing, you don't think “like” would do justice to the feelings you harboured for the boy, and using the big L word made your insides cringe.

You've never been in love before. Crushes? Sure, you've had those. But these huge feelings? Those selfish instincts that came over whenever his smile was shared with everyone else as well? Was that normal? You didn't want to know.

"Hi __," his voice is warm and familiar. His arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you into one of those hugs you've come to love.

"Hi Jake,” You greet him back. Internally scoffing at yourself. Because practically anyone could hear the giddy smile that accompanied your voice.

Jake pulls you even closer, if that was even possible. Smiling into your shoulder as well. It's been a few seconds, but his hands still linger on your waist and when he pulls back you can still feel his touch.

Jake's touch is gone, but your heart still feels that stupid annoying rush. You ignore it completely, because honestly? The intensity of your feelings scare you, and the way Jake throws you the yearning glances scare you even more. In fear that you're probably just being delusional all by yourself.

"You look good," he tells you as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You don't try to fight his touch. If anything you lean into it.

Jake seems to have noticed that- his thumb traces some invisible shape on your cheek, eyes so full of adoration.

"Thank you," you reply bashfully. Somehow you could never be nonchalant and cool to him like you are with others. And it pisses you off.

"Come on, let's get to our seats," he says, holding your hand and dragging you through the semi crowd and toward the seating area.

Coming to a football game would definitely not be your first choice, but here you were, with Jake because Heeseung “dropped out” at the last minute and he needed some company.

Okay, here's the deal. You didn't know much about football, but you just came along because well, you're a fool in love.

You didn't mind it honestly, because if watching some dude run around the field with a ball made Jake happy, you'd sit through it for however many times he wanted.

So there you were sitting mindlessly nipping at your sandwich.

“___, the first quarter is done,” Jake grins as he sits down beside you.

“How many more of these do I have to sit through Sim,” you fake whine as Jake laughs beside you.

“You do realise you didn't have to come along with me right?” He chuckles, throwing an arm across your shoulder.

“And leave you here all by yourself to look like a loser with no friends?” You scoff, giving him a smug look, “I'm practically saving your reputation here Sim. A thanks and a lifetime supply of chocolate muffins would do.”

Jake simply rolls his eyes at your faux uppity look.

You shift in your chair as you look around the field, “What do people even do in these breaks?” you ask.

Jake points towards the huge screen that was displaying the results a minute ago.

“See that,” you hum mindlessly, “that is a kiss cam. So during the breaks, people usually just look at other people snogging each other.” You snort at his words and look at the screen. As if on cue, the camera points towards a young couple. The couple share a flustered look before pecking each other and the entire stadium erupts into cheers, and you couldn't help the smile on your face.

“That's so cute…but also lowkey weird, what if it points towards siblings? Or like friends? Wouldn't that put them in an awkward position?” Your question is genuine, but Jake only hangs on to one thing you said.

“Friends?”, he parrots, as his cheeks flush pink, “like us..?” His voice is low, but you catch onto it. Your face heats up at the thought of kissing him. You lock eyes with the boy. There was something so magnetic about his eyes.

You let out an awkward chuckle, “I mean, we don't have to worry about that, no?” You force out a laugh, fiddling with your fingers. “It's not like the camera is gonna point at us.”

“___,” Jake whispers, “you might want to look at the screen.”

Well, fuck.

The camera was pointing towards a very familiar young couple, well at least they looked like a couple on screen. You swore to God your heart was going to jump out of your rib cage. You turn away from Jake, avoiding the camera and Jake laughs awkwardly, crossing his arms to sign ‘no’, which had the audience booing at the two of you.

Thankfully, the camera quickly pans towards another couple, who seem more than happy to kiss each other.

Jake breathes a sigh of relief which you don't miss. Your chest heaves a tiny tiny little bit in disappointment.

Luck definitely wasn't on your side today because soon after, the camera panned towards you and Jake. Again.

Jake laughs as he signs ‘no’, earning more boos from the crowd. You looked up at the screen and noticed that the camera was still on the two of you.

You don't really know what got into you, maybe it was the consistent booing by the crowd that finally tipped you over, because one second you were looking at Jake on the screen and the other your hands were on his face as he looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Sim, I'm going to kiss you,” you rush as you pull him towards you, “If you don't want this tell me now.” He doesn't really remember much of what he said. All Jake remembers is the feeling of his lips on yours.

He could have sworn he heard fireworks when you pulled him closer and crashed your lips against his. Your lips were soft against his and there was a sense of longing in them. God, you drove him mad.

He lets out a groan as his hands find company at your waist, pressing and feeling your skin. He couldn't believe this was happening.

You couldn't believe it either. The moment his lips were on yours, it felt like it was just the two of you in the stadium, but unfortunately, the loud cheers of the audience brought you back to your senses as you heaved against his chest, him burying his head into your neck.

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I've waited for that,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your back. “Yeah?” You look up at him with a flustered smile.

“Yeah.” He says, gulping. The rosy flush on his cheeks still present. The camera isn't pointing at you two anymore and the game has already resumed again. But the two of you can't help but continue to act like giddy idiots.

You're definitely gonna have to thank Heeseung for dipping out on Jake today.

[il-miele-che-scrive]

Lando Norris and [Y/n] Wolff are an on-and-off thing, fans think they're all good after [Y/n] releases a song supposedly about Lando, but they forget he's not the only Brit on the grid.

username1 HE LAUGHS AT ALL MY JOKES

↳username2 AND HE SAYS I'M SO AMERICAN

username3 sorry but in which part is y/n american?

↳username1 her mother, Y/m/n Y/l/n, is American and Y/n spent most of her life in the US after Y/m/n and Toto divorced

username3 oooh good to know, thank you!!

username4 I'm so happy to know Y/n and Lando are still together after all

↳username5 But they were never official

username4 But it's obvious! They were seen on dates many times, hanging out around Monaco, not to mention every time Y/n is in the paddock she spends more time in the McLaren garage than Mercedes'

username6 my fav nepo baby <3

username7 damn Lando must be doing a good job lol

username8 Y/n finally released a love song, everybody thank Lando

username9 Weren't there rumours about them being over forever just during the winter break?

↳username10 Toto would find a way to get Lando kicked out of F1 if he ever broke Y/n's heart lmao

username9 What does Toto gotta do with McLaren?

username10 He's rich? Lol

username9 And? Stroll's daddy is rich as well yet he can't make idk Verstappen disappear lol rich doesn't mean he can do anything he wants

username11 Guys I have a bad feeling, we actually haven't seen them together in a long time , I'm afraid they might be actually broken up for good

↳username6 I wouldn't read too much into it, Y/n studies in Monaco so she isn't able to attend races right now

username11 You sure? Y/n hasn't made a single appearance since the season started

username6 The season started in the middle of her uni year lol you ever thought of that?

↳username7 this is literally a love song, how are we even wondering if they broke up? she wouldn't release this if they were done

username6 THIS!! I feel like this song is a confirmation from Y/n that all is good, maybe she was tired of people talking if they're broken up or not

username5 Then why don't they make it official?

username6 that's not a question i can answer

username12 "I'll go anywhere he goes" then why aren't you attending races miss girl? Education can wait

↳username2 lmao it literally can't wait

username13 "the books you read" ma'am, Lando looks like he hasn't touched a single book his whole life

↳username12 And it's not like he dresses that well either, his style is nothing special

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

y/n's texts with Lando

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

username1 All men are the same I swear

↳username2 nooo I swear there are good ones, but that's just not Lando

username3 excuse me sir, y/n has just written a love song about you

username4 NOOOO THE WAY HE PUT HIS HAND ON THE GIRL'S LOWER BACK

↳username1 Him and Y/n are done frfr 😭

username5 Do we know who the girl is?

↳f1gossip Not yet, but I'm sure we'll know in no time

username6 Wtf is wrong with you, it's not her fault Lando can't focus on one woman

username7 But there's no way she didn't know about him and Y/n ;)

username6 There is/was no "Lando and Y/n", they never confirmed a relationship

username8 He's just won in Miami, I was hoping they'd make it official after that :(

↳username9 Sameeee it would be so cool

↳username10 Literally same, it'd be perfect

username11 Lando Norris, you disappoint me again

↳username12 at this point Y/n must be used to that lmao poor girl I hope she finds someone better

username13 WHAT DOES TOTO SAY ABOUT IT?

↳username3 Whats he supposed to say? Y/n is a grown woman, stop treating her like a baby

username14 I swear if we see Y/n back again with him after THIS I'm gonna break some dishes

↳username15 Yeah I hope she'll find some self respect and finally leave his ass

username16 Y/n I beg you to leave him, the d can't be THAT fire

yn_wolff posted on instastory

landonorris replied to your story:

↳mind if i join?

yn_wolff:

yeah lol don't join

landonorris:

i was gonna sail today anyway, what if we do it together?

hey i think i see u thru my window who are u with?

yn_wolff:

with dad and susie

stalker ass creep don't get anywhere near me today

landonorris:

I see another man

who is he?

*seen*

y/n answer me who is he

is that russell?

fucking russell wtf is he doing there

he better keep his hands away from you

what the fuck why are u hugging him

yn_wolff:

i'm hugging george and I'll do something worse if you don't stop with ur stalker shit

landonorris:

what the fuck do you mean y/n

yn_wolff:

don't worry, I'm sure that blonde girl would love to give you a hug, you should go see her

landonorris:

she's just a friend

y/n you're mine

she doesn't mean shit to me

don't show my texts to russell

yn_wolff:

Hello it's George, stop texting my girlfriend or we'll have to tell Toto

landonorris:

girlfriend?

username1 Right after? The Lando thing was yesterday

↳f1gossip Yeah, and this was this morning

username2 Whats Y/n doin with George? 🤨

↳username3 in case you forgot she's y/n WOLFF, the daughter of Mercedes' boss which GR drives for

username4 After seeing Y/n's story I hoped she's finally spending some time with Lando but...

↳username5 Have u seen what Lando posted? 😂

username4 What did he post?

username5 Oh apparently he deleted it already lol it was a story

username5 Anyway he posted like a lowkey thirst trap pic and the music he added was Tumblr girls by g eazy lmao

username4 Boohoo consequences of his own actions catching up

username5 Yeahh and he especially chose the verse that goes like "fucking off and on, always stop and go, probably got someone, choose not to know"

username6 Guys, I say we take in consideration the possibility of 'so american' being about George

landonorris Monaco weekend 🇲🇨☀

view all comments

username1 Why do I feel like he posted this just so people think Y/n was there with him even though there's not a single pic of her? 😂

↳username2 Bro why he want her when he can't have her anymore?

username3 get over it, it's your fault

username4 I feel like he's tryna say "Hey guys look, Y/n took these pics" but why would we believe it 💀

↳username1 Exactly!! We all KNOW she most likely spent the day with George

username5 Now all i think about when i see Lando is the story he deleted 😭

↳username6 totally hahah he literally called Y/n a bitch but also admitted that he can't help wanting other girls

username7 Wait when did this happen? When did he say that?

username6 he never said that, it's lyrics of a song he posted but quickly deleted

username5 He immediately regretted hahah

username8 @/maxfewtrell Tell Lando to behave, why are you even helping him with this bullshit?

username9 It's too late, you had your chance FOR HALF A YEAR and still chose to lead Y/n on, now she got someone else and you're being petty

↳username10 She let him lead her on for half a year? Damn it he should pay for her therapy

username9 I feel like she really hoped she can change him but realized "if you can't change the man, change the man"

username10 Very accurate lmao

username11 Guys, I believe Y/n and Lando were a thing for much more time than half a year, it was going on for at least a year, they were just very secretive about it

username9 Well, good for her to finally get out of this shit, she deserves so much better and I hope George will give her that

username1 I bet Toto loves his new son in law

↳username2 He has to be very relieved to know Y/n chose George eventually

username3 We still don't know if they're dating, remember George drives for Mercedes

username4 I really hope Lando is crying rn

username5 Now Lando for sure can't trick us into thinking Y/n was with him lmao

username6 I love George for saving Y/n

username7 I love them, they're all so old money, Y/n and George are a great match

username8 MY DELULU IS BECOMING TRULULU

username9 This is our confirmation that so american is about George

username10 I feel like Y/n upgraded at some point but at one point also downgraded

↳username2 Let's not talk about it, we should be happy for her and George, at least he won't treat her like an option

username11 George is literally THE MAN for Y/n, I'm so glad she finally realized that

↳username12 Chill, let's not assume stuff before we have any statement from them, we all know where assuming can get us

username13 This is my old money dream

username14 HEAR ME OUT but I'd actually love to see George and Y/n get married one day

↳username12 THIS is exactly where assuming can get us

yn_wolff Oh you'll like him, he's really kind andhe's funny like you sometimes, and I found someone I really like maybe for the first time

view all comments

username1 I'm so happy for them I'm gonna cry

lewishamilton Invite me next time!

↳georgerussell63 Toto said it was family only, I'm sorry, Lewis!

↳yn_wolff Ask Ferrari to invite you wtf

username1 lmao only Y/n Wolff can talk to a 7 times world champion like that

username2 YESSSS IT'S OFFICIAL

↳username1 Y/n is officially free from Lando!!

username3 I love the vibes, I love the fact that Y/n is dating a driver from her dad's team, I love the fact that Toto accepts it

↳username4 He must've been going CRAZY when Y/n had the situationship with Lando

username3 Absolutely and I think we all know about Toto's anger issues lol

susie_wolff 💝

↳yn_wolff 🩷

ymn_yln I hope George knows he's welcome in America too 😊

↳yn_wolff Of course!! We have a plane on Friday❤️

↳georgerussell63 I wanted to take Y/n to Miami so we can visit after the GP, but she refused 😔

yn_wolff Shut up I have uni!!

georgerussell63 It can't be more important than me meeting your mum

lilymhe Beautiful couple 😚

↳yn_wolff @/susie_wolff it's about you and dad💕

lilymhe Might as well be 😂

username3 Susie and Toto literally are Y/n and George in like 20 years lmao

alex_albon Finally, no more secrets

↳username2 ALBONO KNEW?

username4 Phew I can't imagine how much stress it was for him 😂

username5 George just MIGHT be the guy which so american is about...

username6 Something about this relationship makes me feel so at peace and I don't even know them in person

charles_leclerc Someone check on Lando😂

↳yn_wolff Charles 💀

username5 Is he wrong tho

username7 I laughed harder than I should've

↳username8 Betting all my money he's regretting all his actions

username9 As he should tbh imagine leading sb on for about a year, people who do this are evil

username8 Yeah, that was so wrong of him

username10 No but I need to know what books George reads tho

landonorris 👍

↳yn_wolff Stalker ass you don't even follow me

↳username4 THE AUDACITY

landonorris I hope you'll have fun while it lasts

↳yn_wolff YOU'RE the one to speak about lasting

↳georgerussell63 Not your place to worry about it🙂

username5 THE EMOJI MAKES IT SO FUNNY FOR NO REASON

username1 "THE WAY YOU DRESS, THE BOOKS YOU READ" he dresses well✅ he looks like he reads✅

username2 He's the perfect man for Y/n frfr

username3 I'm so happy that it's not about Lando after all, I was like girl he's treating you like shit and you write a love song??

username4 I've been waiting for it for YEARS

username5 So they had a thing for no longer than since the end of winter break and already made it official

↳username2 Something Lando couldn't do for almost a whole ass year lmao

username6 But have y'all noticed how obsessed with Y/n Lando is suddenly?

↳username1 of course he is, that's how it works, he's been rejected so his fragile ego is hurt

username3 He's even liking fans' edits of Y/n😭man is manifesting hard but I doubt anything can help him

username7 Good to know George's hands are warmer than hell, they don't look like it

username8 Girlie deserved a man who doesn't have commitment issues aka is a real man, I'm glad she got him

username9 Y'all think Lando reads Y/n x reader fanfics?👀

↳username1 Totally

↳username2 I can imagine it

↳username3 He'll do it until his delulu becomes trululu (it'll never happen🔥)

username10 I'll laugh so hard if now Lando will now stop fooling around with other girls 😂

username11 Can't wait for a whole album full of love songs about him

↳username12 I don't think we'll have to wait for long

[snoopyracing]

wanna be yours 2.0 // ln4 social media au // part three

part one | part two

pairing: lando norris X american!reader / mclaren photographer!reader and slight pato o'ward X reader

warnings: swearing

summary: a remix of my fic wanna be yours in social media au form. or basically lando and the reader both being in love with each other but being too stubborn and scared to say anything so they suffer in silence until one finally crumbles.

contains: best friends to slight strangers to lovers, pining, angst, jealous!lando, asshole!lando, clueless!lando, and perhaps a little lando or pato? situation.

masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

may 26th, 2024

liked by y/bsf, patriciooward, landonorris and 98,520 others

y/n.jpg: something about an empty track the morning of a race (yes i was here so early that i got to watch the sunrise)

patriciooward: did you sleep at the track lol??

↳ y/n.jpg: no... but the gates may have still been locked when i got here. 🧍‍♀️

mclaren: missing you this weekend! -liked by author

user1: girl.... we saw that pic from last night...

user3: i'm feeding my delusions by thinking that lando is on the mclaren account commenting

user7: lando in the likes once again...god please let him comment again soon.

liked by patriciooward, arrowmclaren, y/bsf and 105,321 others

y/n.jpg: so incredibly proud of you today pato!!! you gave it your all and left everything out on that track. so happy i was able to come back and spend this week with the whole arrow mclaren family. always a special week and one i've missed immensely. next year is yours pato. ❤️

patriciooward: it was a bittersweet day. would have loved to win, but loved having you here this year. gracias mi amor. -liked by author

arrowmclaren: so nice to have you back y/n! you know you're always welcome!! -liked by author

landonorris: @.patriciooward you killed it out there today man. you should be proud.

↳ patriciooward: thanks lando!

user4: um lando in the comments... and commenting to pato... maybe war is over

user3: if pato and y/n don't end up together i'm gonna lose my shit

user9: still team lando y/n

may 27th, 2024

may 28th, 2024

y/n.jpg added to their story

y/bsf replied to your story

↳ girl.... is this lando??? i saw that tweet from the gossip page

may 29th, 2024

liked by landonorris, y/bsf, logansargeant and 285,650 others

y/n.jpg: the love of my life (everyone act normal please)

landonorris: the first pic.... you're lucky i love you

↳ y/n.jpg: it's a cute pic 🤭

y/bsf: FINALLY!!!!!!!

↳ y/n.jpg: did i not say to act normal?

logansargeant: oh thank god... i couldn't stand his moodiness anymore.

↳ landonorris: i was not moody 😐

↳ oscarpiastri: yes you were

user2: Y/N LANDO TRUTHERS WE WON!!!!

user4: pato and y/n :(

user9: there is no way to be normal about this.

liked by y/n.jpg, oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell and 900,402 others

landonorris: the love of my life, my baby, my world, my everything.

y/n.jpg: i love you so much 🩷

maxfewtrell: thank god. didn't think you two were ever going to get together.

↳ landonorris: well sorry mate. guess we all don't have the charisma that you do.

↳ y/n.jpg: max and charisma do not belong in the same sentence

↳ maxfewtrell: 🤨

oscarpiastri: so happy for you guys! -liked by author

user4: this actually made my year.

user7: when does this get to happen to me?? i need me a man that's so down bad like lando.

user1: how did he bag a baddie like y/n? can you fight lando norris?

tag list: @daisyfreecs @mel164 @hurtblossom @the-untamed-soul @ameliaalvarez06 @ahnneyong @landotd @spideylovin @wobblymug @vizzzashley @urfavsgf @lunamelona @sunflowervol18 @kiwi43-81 @horneybeach1 @czennieszn @dontworryboutitokie @weekendlusting @deamus-liv @lexiecamposv @nikki1dxx @eggingamazinglove @folklorelover888 @hashcakes @sarx164 @misspygmypie @ziraelmtd @sarah-thatstings-ann @gnarlycore @plotpal @formulaal @tremendousstarlighttragedy @saachiep81 @alana4610 @kissesandmartinis @green--beanie @moodymoony71 @tvdtw4ever @lottalove4evelyn

[marlenesluv]

Hotty Toddy. (OP)

request: “as an ole miss fan the gators cheerleader also hurt my heart, but it was so cute. could you do like logan sargeants lil sister (@carolinewalkerrr fc pls) who is an ole miss cheerleader x oscar piastri”

note: sorry this took sooo long. but i stuck with the og nostalgic layout here since it was already started lol. i made reader 21 in this since oscar's 23!

pairing: oscar piastri x sargeantsis!reader!olemisscheerleader

fc: caroline walker (carolinerwalkerrr on insta)

warnings: none! just cute fluff

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

liked by: oscarpiastri, logansargeant, and 25,014 others

y/n.sargeant: just an ole miss cheerleader with her mclaren bf, what else? ❤️🧡

view comments…

sergeantsibsfp: nothing just a healthy couple whom i envy 🥲

user6: the way he hard launched them a few weeks ago and i already know that they are each others endgame fr

oscarpiastri: she’s also a mclaren cheerleader ;)

↳ y/n.sargeant: obviously <3

olemissedits: our favorite couple 🥹

user4: adborableeee omg

yourbsf: cheer mom and driver dad

↳ oscarpiastri: clingy child

↳ y/n.sargeant: LMAO

↳ yourbsf: yeah but you guys love taking me to din din

logansargeant: your welcome for taking the first pic btw

↳ y/n.sargeant; oh. yeah. thanks!

f1wags: so prettyy. you guys are adorable

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liked by: y/n.sargeant, landonorris, and 206,024 others

oscarpiastri: las vegas gp race weekends with my <3

view comments…

y/n.sargeant: ya ya ya <3

↳ user7: i think she means "ra ra ra" guys🤗

logansargeant: excuse me? come support me this weekend in our literal country?? im offended.

↳ y/n.sargeant: of course, i'll come support you (alex)

↳ alex_albon: :)))

↳ logansargeant: wtf?????

↳ oscarpiastri: take your eagle elsewhere

↳ logansargeant: rethink that. whose sister are you dating?

↳ oscarpiastri: .....sorry🙃

user9: y/n cheering on oscar and logan has to be like, a full time job

yourbsf: MA'AM??? i need water cause i can't breath!!!

↳ y/n.sargeant: i fear you mean cpr, not water?

↳ yourbsf: this is why i'm a cheerleader and not premed 😬

f1wags: yeah, she's a cheerleader, but she's also our beauty queen fr🌹

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liked by: oscarpiastri, yourbsf, and 28,032 others

y/n.sargeant: me and my love in vegas

view comments...

oscarpiastri: i love you babe

↳ y/n.sargeant: i love youuuuu

↳ logansargeant: are we throwing that word around now??

user1: shes stunning and hes...there?

↳ user8: plssssss foullll

olemiss9fp: our fav girl is just doing hot gal shit in vegas 💅

yourbsf: ughhhh come home the kids miss you (me, im the kids)

↳ y/n.sargeant: we'll bring you next time <3

↳ oscarpiastri: she's lying, we will not bring you

↳ yourbsf: :(

f1wags: our girl can dresssss👏🖤

user5: they give me golden red bf and husky gf vibes

↳ user3: nooo cuz i agree so much

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liked by: y/n.sargeant, landonorris, and 231,855 others

oscarpiastri: back in mississippi to cheer my girl on💙❤️

view comments...

user5: just so everyone knows, lando, daniel, charles, max, carlos, and logan were seen with oscar and y/n today in mississippi before the game...

↳ user7: sooo, they're gonna be at the game tonight?

↳ user5: i think so? that's what i'm assuming

y/n.sargeant: hotty toddy ;)

↳ olemisscheer: hotty toddy!!!!!!

logansargeant: thank god we're back in the usa

↳ landonorris: yeah, now you can let your eagle wings spread and soar, logan

↳ danielricciardo: as an honorary american, it feels good to be home 🦅

↳ logansargeant: uhhuh

sargeantsibs2edits: can't wait for more sargeant sibling content while they're home

yourbsf: my girl's home :')

*liked by y/n.sargeant*

f1wags: y/n looks so adorable in her outfit🥹

user3: when they go to each others games and support each other >

piastri9fp: oscar's a natural on the bike fr

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twitter:

Driver Updates @offthefridupdates • 3hr ago

Update: Oscar Piastri and girlfriend Y/n Sargeant were spotted leaving his private jet with Lando Norris and Logan Sargeant in tow. A few hours later, Daniel Ricciardo, Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, and Carlos Sainz were seen leaving Max's private jet and meeting up with the other four.

The eight have since been spotted getting lunch and Y/n showing them around The University of Mississippi, aka Ole Miss, where she goes to school where she cheers and is in the premed program.

Then, at tonight's game, Oscar is supporting his girlfriend with her brother and the other drivers previously mentioned.

Hotty Toddy, Y/n!!!!!

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Sara @sarraluvsf1 • 2hr ago

Y/n is literally my idol. She's the best cheerleader, amazing premed student, focused, beautiful, she's dating her brother's best friend like girl...i want to be youuuuu

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Michael @mikestalks7 • 2hr ago

I started watching F1 for the sport, but now I just love to see Y/n thriving in cheer. When is she gonna get her own show? @Netflix

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Riley @f1loverrrr • 1hr ago

Not you tagging Netflix (but I agree pls give us more Sargeant Sibling content)

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liked by: oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 47,129 others

tagged: yourbsf, oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, logansargeant, landonorris, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and maxverstappen1

y/n.sargeant: reunited with my girl + a cute pic of oscar i took :)

view comments...

yourbsf: i missed you <3

↳ y/n.sargeant: i missed you too <3

user2: no cause they are THE iconic duo 👏

landonorris: where did all the group photos we took go???

↳ y/n.sargeant: well, they were all taken after i had sweat so bad that my hair was a mess and i looked like death so those will never see the light of day!!

↳ landonorris: 🙄🙄🙄

f1wags: she is beauty, she is grace, she is mother

user7: her insta pics never miss🫡

danielricciardo: this is when i wished you cheered for the longhorns tbh🤷‍♂️

↳ y/n.sargeant: i never want to speak to you again. out

↳ danielricciardo: jk!! HAHA so funny!!😁😁😁

↳ y/n.sargeant: ....mhmm👀

piastriedit81: i need to edit y/n she's so prettyyyy

charles_leclerc: thank you for having us. we had so much fun 🙃

↳ carlossainz55: trying to act all professional when he started crying when y/n fell during warmups

↳ charles_leclerc: I THOUGHT SHE HURT HERSELF

↳ oscarpiastri: she's tough, she can take a little fall❤️

↳ y/n.sargeant: ❤️😊

↳ maxverstappen1: she can, but charles can't

user4: the banter in this comment section has me rollingggg

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(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

[intheholler]

the appalachian murder ballad <3 one of the most interesting elements of americana and american folk, imo!

my wife recently gave me A Look when i had one playing in the car and she was like, "why do all of these old folk songs talk about killing people lmao" and i realized i wanted to Talk About It at length.

nerd shit under the cut, and it's long. y'all been warned

so, as y'all probably know, a lot of appalachian folk music grew its roots in scottish folk (and then was heavily influenced by Black folks once it arrived here, but that's a post for another time).

they existed, as most folk music does, to deliver a narrative--to pass on a story orally, especially in communities where literacy was not widespread. their whole purpose was to get the news out there about current events, and everyone loves a good murder mystery!

as an aside, i saw someone liken the murder ballad to a ye olde true crime podcast and tbh, yeah lol.

the "original" murder ballads started back across the pond as news stories printed on broadsheets and penned in such a way that it was easy to put to melody.

they were meant to be passed on and keep the people informed about the goings-on in town. i imagine that because these songs were left up to their original orators to get them going, this would be why we have sooo many variations of old folk songs.

naturally then, almost always, they were based on real events, either sung from an outside perspective, from the killer's perspective and in some cases, from the victim's. of course, like most things from days of yore, they reek of social dogshit. the particular flavor of dogshit of the OG murder ballad was misogyny.

so, the murder ballad came over when the english and scots-irish settlers did. in fact, a lot of the current murder ballads are still telling stories from centuries ago, and, as is the way of folk, getting rewritten and given new names and melodies and evolving into the modern recordings we hear today.

305 such scottish and english ballads were noted and collected into what is famously known as the Child Ballads collected by a professor named francis james child in the 19th century. they have been reshaped and covered and recorded a million and one times, as is the folk way.

while newer ones continued to largely fit the formula of retelling real events and murder trials (such as one of my favorite ones, little sadie, about a murderer getting chased through the carolinas to have justice handed down), they also evolved into sometimes fictional, (often unfortunately misogynistic) cautionary tales.

perhaps the most famous examples of these are omie wise and pretty polly where the woman's death almost feels justified as if it's her fault (big shocker).

but i digress. in this way, the evolution of the murder ballad came to serve a similar purpose as the spooky legends of appalachia did/do now.

(why do we have those urban legends and oral traditions warning yall out of the woods? to keep babies from gettin lost n dying in them. i know it's a fun tiktok trend rn to tell tale of spooky scary woods like there's really more haints out here than there are anywhere else, but that's a rant for another time too ain't it)

so, the aforementioned little sadie (also known as "bad lee brown" in some cases) was first recorded in the 1920s. i'm also plugging my favorite female-vocaist cover of it there because it's superior when a woman does it, sorry.

it is a pretty straightforward murder ballad in its content--in the original version, the guy kills a woman, a stranger or his girlfriend sometimes depending on who is covering it.

but instead of it being a cautionary 'be careful and don't get pregnant or it's your fault' tale like omie wise and pretty polly, the guy doesn't get away with it, and he's not portrayed as sympathetic like the murderer is in so many ballads.

a few decades after, women started saying fuck you and writing their own murder ballads.

in the 40s, the femme fatale trope was in full swing with women flipping the script and killing their male lovers for slights against them instead.

men began to enter the "find out" phase in these songs and paid up for being abusive partners. women regained their agency and humanity by actually giving themselves an active voice instead of just being essentially 'fridged in the ballads of old.

her majesty dolly parton even covered plenty of old ballads herself but then went on to write the bridge, telling the pregnant-woman-in-the-murder-ballad's side of things for once. love her.

as a listener, i realized that i personally prefer these modern covers of appalachian murder ballads sung by women-led acts like dolly and gillian welch and even the super-recent crooked still especially, because there is a sense of reclamation, subverting its roots by giving it a woman's voice instead.

meaning that, like a lot else from the problematic past, the appalachian murder ballad is something to be enjoyed with critical ears. violence against women is an evergreen issue, of course, and you're going to encounter a lot of that in this branch of historical music.

but with folk songs, and especially the murder ballad, being such a foundational element of appalachian history and culture and fitting squarely into the appalachian gothic, i still find them important and so, so interesting

i do feel it's worth mentioning that there are "tamer" ones. with traditional and modern murder ballads alike, some of them are just for "fun," like a murder mystery novel is enjoyable to read; not all have a message or retell a historical trial.

(for instance, i'd even argue ultra-modern, popular americana songs like hell's comin' with me is a contemporary americana murder ballad--being sung by a male vocalist and having evolved from being at the expense of a woman to instead being directed at a harmful and corrupt church. that kind of thing)

in short: it continues to evolve, and i continue to eat that shit up.

anyway, to leave off, lemme share with yall my personal favorite murder ballad which fits squarely into murder mystery/horror novel territory imo.

it's the 10th child ballad and was originally known as "the twa sisters." it's been covered to hell n back and named and renamed.

but! if you listen to any flavor of americana, chances are high you already know it; popular names are "the dreadful wind and rain" and sometimes just "wind and rain."

in it, a jealous older sister pushes her other sister into a river (or stream, or sea, depending on who's covering it) over a dumbass man. the little sister's body floats away and a fiddle maker come upon her and took parts of her body to make a fiddle of his own. the only song the new fiddle plays is the tale about how it came to be, and it is the same song you have been listening to until then.

how's that for genuinely spooky-scary appalachia, y'all?

[lee-laurent]

T'es ben chix - Luke Hughes

Summary: Amélie decides Luke Hughes is the cutest boy she's ever seen, but she doesn't know how to tell him.

wc: 7k

content: fluff, a little bit of angst, kissing, panic attacks, anxiety, quick make out session, a couple dirty jokes, long distance relationship (let me know if missed anything!)

notes: don't let the title fool you, this fic is still in english!! i realized the other day while doing schoolwork that i don't have a fic that discusses being french-canadian. so... here we are! this fic was super fun for me to write and i incorporated experiences and challenges i have faced over the last few years. a lot of the mistakes that amélie makes are mistakes that i have made or that other french speakers make when speaking english bc sometimes we try to directly translate things and it just does not work lol i reallly hope you guys enjoy!!! and to any other francophones out there: let's be friends!!

just finished writing and it's about 5k words more than i was planning

Amélie honestly wasn't the biggest fan of going out back home, so going out in a place where she could barely speak the language was even worse. But a few of the girls she'd befriended had convinced her it was a good way to get to know more people and to let loose. She sat with the three other girls at a small table, her fingers drumming against the glass of her cocktail.

"Yeah, what did you think of that guy that presented today, Am?"

"Hm? He did... good."

"No, silly. Did you think he was cute?"

"Oh, um, he's... how do you say... not my type?"

"Not your type? Then what is your type, Am?"

"Probably that guy she's been making googly eyes at all night," one of the others teased.

"Who? The tall, curly haired guy in the corner?"

Amélie blushed, sipping at the alcohol for courage.

"Ooo, she's totally into him!"

"You should go talk to him, Am!"

"No... I tell you... no American boys," she waved them off.

"Well, that's too bad. Cause it looks like he's comin' over here. We'll be at the bar if you need us."

"Guys..."

But it was too late, the other girls were already up and headed towards the bar.

"Calisse," she mumbled, trying to ignore the tall figure approaching her table.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked. She looked up at him, her lips pursed. He had the same curly hair and boyish smile that her friends had been teasing her about. She really hadn't planned on talking to anyone tonight, let alone any boys. The girls knew her rule: no falling for any boys while she was in America.

"Uh... sure," she replied, gesturing to the empty chairs across from her.

He smiled, sitting down casually, rubbing his palms on his pants. "I'm Luke. I, uh, I thought I'd come introduce myslef since we, uh, made eye contact so many times."

Amélie bit her lip, nodding as he spoke. She barely knew enough English to follow what her friends were saying, and now she had to talk to some random guy at this bar she didn't even want to be at. "I, uh, I am Amélie."

"Amélie? That's a really pretty name. Did I, uh, did I say it right? Amélie?"

Her cheeks flushed, her eyes flickering down to her drink. "Yeah... that is right. Thank you." Her fingers tightened around the glass, trying to think of something to say next, but everything just came in French.

Luke could sense her hesitation, suddenly becoming way more nervous about coming over. Maybe it had been stupid. Maybe he was making her feel uncomfortable. "I just thought... I don't know. You seemed nice. Do you, uh, want to talk, or...?"

She met his gaze, taking a deep breath. He was trying and he seemed nice, like he really wanted to talk to her. "I... my English, it is not very good," her accent thickening as she spoke. "It is... hard for me."

Luke nodded, leaning forward slightly. He had teammates that didn't speak English as their first language, so he kind of knew what to expect. "That's fine. I'm sure it's better than my French. That is your first language, right? French? Sorry, I just assumed cause your name-"

"Yes, French," she cut him off, giggling at his rambling.

"I can barely say anything in French, so you've already got me beat."

His attempt to make her feel better worked... a little. "It is easier... to write. But speaking... more pressure, I forget the words lots."

"I get that. But we can just... talk slowly."

She sipped at her drink, waiting for him to continue.

"So, what brings you to Jersey? Not a lot of French people here."

"Exchange... at Rutgers. I am from Québec. Saguenay. But I come here... and I work on my English."

"That's super cool. It's awesome that you're pushing yourself to get better. I, uh, I went to Umich for a bit, but-"

"Umich?"

"Oh, right. University of Michigan. I lived in Michigan before I lived here."

"You move here because..."

"For hockey. I play hockey."

"Oh... that's cool. I like Les Canadiens. You play in the LNH?"

"The NHL? Yeah, I do. You like hockey?"

"Everyone in Québec likes hockey. Very popular."

"But you didn't know who I was," Luke teased.

"Only like Les Canadiens, sorry," she shrugged.

"Well, that's fair, I guess. The Habs are pretty big in Québec, huh?"

"Yes! My family... all big fan." She felt comfortable talking about her family, talking about home, the things she liked. Her dad watched every Habs game on TV and sometimes he'd even drive down to Montréal for a weekend to see them play.

"My family loves hockey too. Everyone plays. My mom, my dad, me, and both my brothers. It's like in our blood... or something."

"They play for... the same team?"

"One of them does. Jack, he plays with me. My other brother, Quinn, he plays in Vancouver," Luke tried to keep it casual, not wanting it to seem like he was bragging.

"Ah! The Canucks!"

"See, you know a bit about other teams," he teased.

"Shhh," she giggled. "Your family... they seem very... what's the word... talented."

"Guess you could say that."

She took another sip of her drink, her mind buzzing with questions to ask, but none of them coming to her in English. She wanted to ask more about his brothers, about how he started playing hockey, but her mouth just couldn't keep up with her brain. She also didn't want to come off as rude or obsessed with him because of his title, so she just nodded.

"You don't have to worry, you know. I'm not judging you," Luke comforted. "So, what do you do when you're learning English or watching the Habs? You got any other hobbies?"

"I like to... read. And bake... when I have time."

"Reading and baking," Luke mused. "What do you bake?"

"Everything," she giggled. "Tarte au sucre is my preferred. My mom... she always bakes with me."

"Tarte au sucre? What's that? Sugar pie?" Luke's eyes lit up. "You'll have to make me that one day. I've never had it."

"Maybe. You will have to see."

"Challenge accepted."

Amélie went to respond, but her phone buzzing stopped her. It was her friends calling, probably ready to head on to another bar. She didn't want her conversation with Luke to end, but she knew she couldn't stay there all night.

"I have to go. My friends... waiting," she sighed.

Luke's face fell a little but he nodded. "Yeah, I get it. But I, uh, this was fun."

"Me too."

There was silence for a little, neither of them wanting to be the first to say goodbye. "You should give me... your phone number. So you can try my tarte au sucre."

"Sounds like a plan," Luke said, handing his phone over for her. She typed in her name and phone number, adding a '<3' next to Amélie.

"Text me," she giggled, waving goodbye as she joined the other girls at the bar. Luke watched as the four of them started talking amongst themselves quickly, giggling as Amélie told them about her conversation with the hockey player.

He finally stood up, making his way back over to the table where his teammates were sat. Curtis raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk plastered on his face.

"Well, how'd it go, Romeo?" He leaned forward, failing to conceal his grin.

Luke rolled his eyes, "Good, actually. Really good."

Nico raised his pint, "Told you. You just had to go for it."

"So... what's next?" Curtis nudged him. "You ask for her number?"

Luke nodded, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, we'll probably meet up again."

"Probably?"

"Okay, fine. Yeah, we'll see each other again. I'm going to try her sugar pie she was talking about."

"Sugar pie? Is that what we're calling it nowadays?" Nico teased, causing the whole table to erupt in laughter.

Luke shook his head, letting the teasing slide. His mind was too focused on the girl with a French accent and promises of baking him pie. He had to see her again.

~~

Luke found texting Amélie way easier than he'd imagined. She wasn't lying when she said her writing was better than her speaking. Her texts barely ever had mistakes, in fact sometimes they were worded better than his.

They texted back and forth constantly, which earned Luke some teasing from his colleagues. In writing, Amélie was much more confident, returning his flirting with practiced ease. Her personality really shone through in a way it hadn't at the bar. She'd occasionally crack jokes, usually about how he didn't know any French and that she'd have to teach him. Their conversations flowed, talking about their days, sharing stories, discussing the schoolwork that Amélie had, and sometimes sharing pictures of their meals. Although Jack did most of Luke's cooking, he'd never admit that to the girl.

You have to come and try my tarte au sucre soon! Only if you're brave enough though ;)

Luke grinned at his phone, his fingers furiously typing back a reply.

Oh, I'm brave enough. Just let me know when, and I'll be there.

I will. Maybe next week? I need to make sure it's perfect first.

Deal.

~~

Amélie paced her apartment, making sure that everything was in order before Luke came over. She was even more nervous than she had been in the bar. She really wanted things to go well. They had decided to label the event as their first date, and although a bit informal, she was still shitting herself.

The pie was sitting on her kitchen island, untouched. She didn't want to eat any of it until Luke was there to eat it with her. She was worried he'd get in trouble because it wasn't part of his meal plan for work, but he had reassured it multiple times that it wasn't a big deal if he had a little pie.

Just as she was about to rearrange her throw pillows for the third time, there was a knock at her door. She froze mid-step, wiping her hands on her jeans as she made her way to the door.

It was just a pie. And it was just Luke. Nothing to be too worried about.

She hesitated for a moment before she pulled the door open, tilting her head back to look up at Luke. He was standing there in a Devils hoodie and some track pants, a baseball cap covering his curls. He looked relaxed, his hands tucked in the pocket of his hoodie. Amélie hated how nonchalant he looked in comparison to her.

"Hey," he greeted. "I brough my appetite, as promised."

"Good. I hope you are ready," she joked, stepping out of the way to let him in. He pulled off his shoes, taking in her cozy apartment. He laughed when his eyes landed on the big Québec flag hung behind her couch.

"I'm sure it'll be amazing. I'm looking forward to it, don't worry."

She nodded, though her nerves didn't disappear. She led him into the kitchen where the pie sat waiting. The smell of it filled the small space, warm and sweet.

"Wow, looks good, Am. Guess you weren't kidding about being a good baker."

"It's like you with hockey. My talent," she giggled, blushing as their eyes met.

"I don't know. Your baking skills may be miles ahead of my hockey skills."

"Don't lie. Let's see if it tastes as good as the smell," she grabbed a knife, finally cutting the pie into pieces. She placed a generous slice in front of Luke, taking in how comfortable he looked in the situation. She really admired how easygoing he was compared to her. It was their first date, but his demeanor made it seem like they'd been seeing each other for months. Meanwhile, her heart hadn't stopped racing since she opened the door minutes before.

Luke picked up his fork, flashing her a grin before taking his first bite. His eyes widened and he let out a pleased hum, "Holy shit, this is so good."

"You like it?"

"Are you kidding? This is like the best dessert I've ever had... don't tell my mom I said that. But really, Amélie, you've ruined all other pies for me. Can I take some home to show Jack?"

"Of course! I'm glad you like it. Is my mom's recipe."

"You should probably teach me how to make this, so I don't have to beg you every time I want some."

"I wouldn't mind," she giggled, taking a bite of her own slice. The taste reminded her of home and she suddenly felt a lot less nervous about messing up her English in front of Luke. They continued to eat their pie as they talked, shifting the conversation to more personal topics, wanting to know everything about each other.

Luke told stories about growing up with his brothers, sharing embarrassing moments from their childhoods and the occasional hockey-related mishap. Amélie found herself laughing more than she had since she'd arrived in America, her body filling with warmth.

"And that's how Jack ended up chipping his tooth. Our mom was furious, but Quinn and I thought it was hilarious," Luke explained, shaking his head at the memory.

She laughed, her shoulders shaking. "You and your brother... troublemakers," she teased, resting her chin on her hand as she listened to him talk. God, she could listen to Luke talk for hours. His accent was the cutest thing she'd ever heard and his smile curved up more on one side than the other, almost like a smirk. He was so perfect.

"Yeah, we were. Still are, I guess. But what about you? You got any fun stories about your family?"

"One time my dad, he take us to Montréal for a Habs game. And my older brother he had... he liked one girl he saw. But she was anglophone, no French. He goes up to her and he tries to talk English. But it was soooo bad. Even worse than me. He only knew maybe like three word. I think he said like 'Hey, you pretty, drink?' and she looked at him like he was... insane! He... he panicked and ran away. We bullied him for years after. Our dad, he will still talk about it at dinner sometime."

"That's brutal," Luke laughed. "Glad our first conversation didn't go like that."

"I am just better than him."

Luke shook his head, flashing his lopsided smile that made Amélie swoon. "Clearly. You've got the charm, no doubt about it."

"Maybe a little. But still I get nervous. When you arrive, I think maybe that I would die."

"You hid it well. I didn't even notice. I was the nervous one."

"You? Nervous?" she raised an eyebrow, placing her fork between her lips .

"Yeah, you were... well you are, like the prettiest girl I've ever met," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Didn't want to mess it up."

"Is that a joke? You did not... mess up. I like talking with you."

"I like talking with you too, Amélie"

~~

It was their fourth date and they were back at Amélie's apartment. Luke was sprawled out on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table as he playfully scrolled through one of Amélie's French-to-English learning apps.

"Come on, give me a word," Luke teased, turning to look at the girl sitting beside him with her legs tucked under her.

"Alright. Alright. Um... try... 'papillon.'"

Luke squinted, trying his hardest to translate it. "Papillon," he reapted slowly. "Uh... sounds like pasta, maybe? Wait, no, wait... um, balloon?"

She let a burst of laughter, learning back against the arm of the couch. "Non! It's butterfly!"

He groaned dramatically, throwing his head back in mock anguish. "Butterfly?! That doesn't even sound like butterfly! What?!"

"You are needing more practice," she giggled, comfortly placing a hand on his thigh.

Luke's eyes widened at her touch, but he couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, clearly I need a lot more practice. You might have to become my full-time tutor."

Amélie smiled, her fingers lingering on his thigh, sending a warmth through both of them. They'd been spending more and more time together, and things were less awkward, but still full of nervousness. The banter between them was easy, but there was an ever-growing tension gnawing at them both.

Luke reached for a throw pillow next to him, lightly tossing it at her. "Give me another one. I swear I'll get it this time."

She swatted the pillow away, but her focus had moved on from French. The space between them had slowly been shrinking and she had just noticed how close they were. She tilted her head, her eyes flickering up to meet Luke's. "I think... maybe you are better at other things than French."

Luke's grin faltered, his breath catching in his throat at her new tone. He glanced down at her hand still resting on his thigh, then back at her face, then back to her hand again. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Like... this."

Before he could question what she meant, she leaned in, her lips brushing his, testing the waters. The kiss was soft, hesitant, but the second their lips connected, everything they'd been holding back snapped into place.

Luke's hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened quickly, no longer hesitant, but instead filled with the feelings they'd been dancing around for weeks. Amélie sighed against his mouth, her hands sliding up to his chest, gripping his shirt in his fists. Luke groaned softly, the sound muffled by her lips.

Their kisses turned hungrier, more urgent, as the tension in the room built. Luke shifted, gently pushing Amélie back against the couch as he leaned over her, his body pressing against hers as their kisses grew sloppier. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and Luke's hands slid up to cradle her face, his thumb brushing her cheek as the kiss deepened.

Neither of them wanted to pull away, not wanting to be the first to end the kiss. Luke realized he couldn't hold his breath any longer. He gasped for air before kissing her again, harder this time, his lips moving with more urgency than before. Amélie let out a soft, breathless moan in reponse.

They pulled away again, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to catch their breath. Luke brushed a strand of her hair, that had gotten stuck between them, out of her face. His eyes were still half-closed as he whispered, "I've wanted to kiss you for so long."

Amélie smiled, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to fill her lungs with air. She looked up at him, her lips still tingling. "Me too. I... I did not expect it to feel... like that."

"Good or bad?"

"Good," she whispered, her fingers tracing the back of his neck before pulling him in again, her lips finding his once more. There was no hesitation this time, just unfiltered desire as they gave in to the kiss.

~~

"Where you goin'?" Jack asked, pausing his video game as he heard Luke head for the door. He turned around, noticing his brother wearing his Michigan backpack. "And why do you have a backpack?"

"Amélie's place. I'm spending the night."

"Damn, Lukey boy's finally getting laid."

"Shut up, Jack... there's no confirmation that that's what happening. She just asked if I wanted to sleep over."

Jack smirked, leaning back on the couch with a knowing look. "Uh-huh, sure. You don't pack a bag just to sleep over, bro."

Luke rolled his eyes, adjusting the straps of his bag. "It's not like that. We're just hanging out, maybe watching a movie or something."

Jack snorted. "Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, lover boy. But just in case, be safe."

"It's not like that," Luke groaned, grabbing his keys off the counter, trying to escape Jack's teasing.

"I'm just saying! Good luck, bud!"

Luke mumbled to himself as he stepped into the hallway, heading for the elevator to the parking garage. His heart was racing more than usual, not just because of Jack's teasing but because tonight did feel different. Spending a night together was a big step in their relationship, especially since they weren't officially official yet.

They hadn't even discussed labels yet, and although they were very close, there was an unspoken worry of figuring out where things were heading. Luke really, really liked her, but he didn't want to rush anything. If Amélie wanted to take things slow, then he would take things slow.

He sat in his car, getting ready to leave when his phone buzzed.

Just picked out a movie. Hope you like rom-coms ;)

Only if we watch it in French so I can practice

Deal.

When he pulled up to her building, he practically leaped out of the car, taking his backpack with him. He knocked on her door, his heart in his throat.

Just go with the flow. No pressure

Amélie giggled when she opened the front door, dressed in one of Luke's Devils hoodies and a pair of shorts he couldn't see from under the large sweatshirt.

"Hey. You look cute," he leaned down to kiss her.

"Hey! Missed you."

"It's only been three days," he laughed, allowing her to wrap her arms around his waist, propping her chin on his chest. "You ready for my horrible French?"

"Ready for anything," she giggled as he ran a hand through her hair.

They stood in the doorway for a few moments more, before she grasped his hand and pulled him into the living room. They settled on the couch, a blanket thrown over their entwined legs.

"Am, I've been thinking..." his thumb brushing lightly against her thigh. "I don't want to overthink it anymore than I already have, but... we've been spending lots of time together. And I really like you."

"I like you too, Luke. A lot."

"Good. Because... I want this to be official. I mean, us. I want us to be official. I don't wanna be just 'hanging out' or 'seeing where things go' anymore. I want you to be my girlfriend." His voice softened at the end, his heart out on a silver platter just for her.

"You really want that?" she gushed.

Luke nodded, "Yeah. I want you. I want... us."

"I want that too," she smiled, shuffling impossibly closer to him, pecking his lips.

Luke pulled her back in for a deeper kiss, relief flooding his body. When they pulled apart, Amélie rested her forehead against his, her fingers gripping the front of his hoodie.

"So, it is official?" she whispered.

"Officially official. You're my girlfriend now."

She kissed him again, laughing into his mouth. "Well... now that we have... figured that out. You have French to practice... boyfriend."

"Let's get started then, girlfriend."

~~

"So... when do I get to meet her?" Jack grinned, knocking Luke's shoulder.

"Oh, um, I can ask her."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You can ask her?" he teased. "What, you haven't mentioned me?"

Luke sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have, Jack. I just... didn't think you'd be so excited."

"Dude, of course I'm excited! My little brother has a girlfriend now! And you know I've gotta approve, see if she's good for you. Duh."

"She's not a test subject, Jack. I'm not bringing her so you can interrogate her."

Jack snickered, loving how flustered his brother was getting. "Relax, I'll be nice. In fact, bring her out with us and the guys this weekend. Some of the other girlfriends will be there."

"I can ask her. Just... don't be weird about it. She get's nervous."

"Me? Weird about it? Never. I'm charming."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"Come on, it'll be fun. She'll get to meet everyone, and you know the guys will love her. Plus, if she can survive a night out with us, she's a keeper."

"Look, I'll ask. But I know she's been busy with schoolwork. I'll ask her tonight. But seriously, Jack, don't freak her out. Please."

"Scout's honour, man. I'll be on my best behaviour."

"You're not a-- never mind. I'll let you know what she says."

~~

Luke laid next to Amélie in her bed, his arm draped over her waist. She was scrolling through TikTok, laughing at French words he didn't know yet. He pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, peeking at the screen where some girl was speaking rapid French while doing her make up.

"Hey, Am."

"Hmm?"

"So... Jack and some of the guys are going out this weekend, and a few of the girlfriends will be there too," he paused, thinking over his next words. "Jack was, uh, wondering when he could meet you. He kind of suggested you come along."

She blinked, "Meet... all of your friends? This weekend?"

"No pressure! If you're too busy with school, I totally get it. I just thought it might be fun. Only if you want to, of course," Luke quickly added.

She bit her lip, thinking it over, and Luke could tell she was weighing her options. "I'm nervous. I would... like to meet Jack. To be... part of your world."

He pulled her body closer to his, pressing more kisses to her shoulder. "You're already part of my world, Am. And trust me, Jack's been bugging me about meeting you since our first date. He's... well, he's Jack. But he means well."

"Okay. I will come. But if Jack, he makes me feel awkward, you owe me a very good dinner."

Luke laughed, "Deal. And don't worry, I'll be there the whole time. Plus, survivng Jack means you can survive anything."

~~

"C'est très cute, non?" Amélie asked, showing her outfit off to Luke.

"You look like a millon bucks, baby," he replied, leaning down to kiss her.

"What?"

"It's... it's a saying."

She tilted her head slightly, repeating the words back to herself. "A million... bucks."

Luke thought her accent made it all the more adorable. "It means you look beautiful. Like super, super beautiful."

"English says, they are so strange. First you tell me it rains cats and dogs... now I look like I am money. You explain me all of these sometimes, yes?"

"Of course, baby. But I mean it, you looks amazing."

"Thanks, Lu. We should go?"

"If we have to," Luke pouted, leaning down to give her another kiss.

~~

Amélie gripped the straps of her purse so tightly that her knuckles were white. She had never felt so nervous in her life, not even on their first date. She had so many people to impress tonight and probably less than half the words they had in their vocabularies.

Luke was quick to notice her anxiety. She usually walked with so much confidence, but her posture was slumped and her lip was held between her teeth. "Hey, you okay?"

She nodded, but her choked voice betrayed her. "I... I don't know if I can do this."

"You'll be fine, Am," he whispered, brushing his thumb over her cheek. "Jack's going to love you, I can promise you that. And it's just a few of the guys--nothing big. And hey, some of them aren't even native English speakers themselves."

Her eyes were still full of uncertainty, her fingers busying themselves by picking at the skin around her nails. "But maybe I will say something wrong. Or they ask me things, and I do not understand them? Or they will all laugh at me."

"You've been doing so well with your English, love. And if you're ever feeling stuck, just squeeze my hand and I'll come to your rescue."

The bar was pretty empty for the most part, just a few tables of friends talking and sharing drinks. In the back corner, Jack was sitting with a few of the other guys and their better halves.

"There they are!" Jack cheered as soon as he saw them approaching, standing up to greet his brother as if he hadn't seen him in weeks. His tone was loud and confident, and Amélie could feel every set of eyes at the table move towards her and Luke.

Luke gave his brother a quick bro-hug before turning to his girlfriend. "Jack, this is Amélie. Am, this is my brother, Jack."

Amélie felt like all the moisture in her mouth had disappeared, her hand gripping Luke's with a vice-like strength. She opened her mouth to speak, but all her words got stuck. "I, uh, I... hi."

"Nice to meet you, Amélie," Jack said. "Luke's told me loads about you."

She gave him a tight lipped smile, her mind scrambling to find a response, but nothing came. She felt like the weight of everyone's expectations were holding her down. She wanted to wow everyone with perfect English, but all she could do was stand there, frozen.

"She, uh, she's a little nervous," Luke interjected. "Amélie's from Québec, she's here in Jersey to learn English. But her French is like the most impressive shit ever."

"No worries. We're just happy you're here," Nico spoke up.

Amélie forced a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. She sat down beside Luke, her hand still gripping his with immense force. The conversation around the table picked back up, but she remained quiet.

The guys were easygoing, laughing and joking with each other, and the other girlfriends seemed just as relaxed. The more they spoke though, the harder it became for her to follow. She could pick up on bits and pieces of what was going on, but she couldn't seem to form a complete sentence in her head.

"So, how do you like Jersey so far?" one of the other girlfriends, Lexi, asked with a warm smile.

"It... it's very different. But I... I like it," she replied, her eyes not leaving Luke's hand in her lap.

"She thinks back home is wayyyy prettier. Right, babe?" Luke helped to direct her.

"Yes. Québec is very beautiful."

"So what brought you here?" Jack asked, desperately wanting to know more about the girl that had stolen his brother's heart. "School?"

She bit her lip, trying her best to think of how to reply in English. "Yes... I.... study at Rutgers. Exchange."

"That's awesome. What're you studying?"

Her mind went completely blank. She'd even rehearsed answering that exact question, but now, with everyone looking at her, the words were gone. Her hand tightened around Luke's again, taking a sip of water to clear her throat.

"She's studying communications and media. But the point of her exchange is to work on her English skills."

"That's sick," Jack nodded along.

The conversation around her continued, a few questions being tossed her way but her responses were usually just a few words, the gaps being filled in by Luke. The group eventually moved on to a story that Nico was telling, and Amélie used the shift of attention to shrink into herself further. She let Luke rest his hand on her bouncing knee in an attempt to calm her nerves, but his touch felt foreign in the situation.

After what felt like hours, but had most likely only been half an hour, she leaned close to Luke, whispering in his ear. "Je vais aux toilettes." She stood up before he could respond, scurrying off to the bathroom.

Jack shot Luke a curious glance, but he just shrugged, trying to mask his own worry.

Amélie slipped into the bathroom, pressing her hands against the sink as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She felt like she was suffocating, her eyes burning with unshed tears. She hated feeling like an outsider, not being able to connect with Luke's world outside of her.

She wiped under her eyes, praying that her mascara didn't run. She didn't want anyone to know she'd been crying in the bathroom. She just wanted to be like the other girls at the table--relaxed and confident, going with the flow of the conversation.

With one last deep breath, she made her way back to the table. Luke looked up at her as she approached. He could tell something was off.

"Everything okay?"

She just nodded, falling back into her silence at the table. She laughed when everyone else laughed, smiling politely when someone made a remark towards her. Luke had never seen her so quiet in his life, not even on the first day that they met. By the time everyone had left the bar, her anxiety was so bad she thought she might puke.

Luke opened the car door for her, and she slid in, staring blankly out the window. The silence between them was heavy. Luke could feel it too, his fingers tapping nervously on the steering wheel.

"Am, what's wrong? You've been quiet all night. You barely said a thing."

The tears that she had been fighting so hard to keep at bay finally spilled out. "I... I feel so stupid. I-I couldn't even talk to them. I couldn't even... act normal."

He reached out, placing a hand on her thigh. His heart clenched at her words. "You're not stupid, Am. You're doing amazing. You're learning a whole new language, that's huge."

"But I had to have you help on everything. I could... not even answer Jack's questions. They normally think... I'm dumb. Not good for you." She wiped at her eyes, frustrated with herself for crying.

"Amélie, baby. No one thinks you're dumb. And you are more than good enough for me--don't you ever doubt that. Jack loved meeting you. Everyone did. I could tell. They don't care if you need some help speaking English. Hell, some of those guys could use the help speaking English."

"I wanted... to be better. To show I can do this. But I feel...lost."

"You don't have to show anyone that you can do anything. Not to me, not to Jack, not to anyone. I love you for--"

"You love me?"

"Of course I do, Am. I... I didn't want to admit it like this. But... I am so in love with you, Amélie."

"I love you too, Luke. Sorry if I... embarrass you tonight."

"You could never embarrass me, Am. Never ever."

"I-"

"Nope, that's enough out of you. Let's go back to yours and watch that stupid cop show you like."

"Mensonges?"

"If that's what it's called, then yes."

"I love you, Lu."

"I love you too, Am."

~~

"I don't know, Jack. She was so nervous last time..."

"But last time there were other people there too. Just tell her you've got the place to yourself for the night and then I'll walk in a couple hours later and be like 'Oh! Sorry, my plans got cancelled.' And then we can all hangout," Jack suggested.

"I'm not going to lie to her. I'll just ask if she wants to spend the night."

"Come on, Rusty! You know I'm just trying to help her relax around me. You're making it sound like a big deal. It's not! She's your girlfriend, and I want to get to know her. Plus, I'll make it fun! I'm good with people."

"I appreciate the thought, Jack. But I want her to feel comfortable, not tricked. So I'll just ask her if she wants to come over and spend the night. No tricks."

"Fine, fine. Let me know what she says."

"I will. Just... don't be an idiot."

~~

Amélie followed Luke into his apartment, her backpack thrown over his shoulder. She looked around, noticing how painfully obvious it was that two men lived there.

"I'm just gonna put your bag in my room. You wanna go make yourself comfortable on the couch?"

"Sure."

She sat down, curling her legs under herself, glancing around the living room. She picked up the remote off the coffee table, fiddling with while she waited for Luke.

"You good?"

"Yeah. Just... taking in. It is very... you."

"What, you mean messy?"

She giggled, then tension in her shoulders disappearing. "Maybe... un peu."

"Hey, it's organized chaos, baby. I know where everything is. Well... most of the time."

"I like it. Feels... comfortable. Like you."

"That's all I want, babe. For you to be comfortable."

"Where's Jack?"

"Probably in his room. Why? Wanna talk with him?"

Amélie quickly shook her head, her eyes widening. "No, no... just wonder. I don't want to... bother him."

"You're not bothering him. He's probably playing video games or doing some stupid shit. He'll come out here eventually."

The last time she'd been around Jack, she hadn't been able to shake her nerves. Tonight, she was determined to make a better impression, even if she still felt like puking.

Luke gently nudged her with his elbow. "Hey, you're good, Am. Jack's chill. You don't have to be nervous."

"I know... just... want him to like me."

"He already likes you," Luke reassured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "He wouldn't shut up about how cool you were after the last time."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I wouldn't lie to you, silly."

"Love you, Lu."

"Love you too," he leaned in to kiss her when footsteps pulled them apart.

"Aww, did I interrupt a moment?" Jack's teasing voice came from the doorway.

"Relax, Jack. We were just talking... about you."

"Oh yeah?" Jack pushed himself off the wall, making his way to the couch. "All good things, I hope."

"Duh," Luke squeezed Amélie's hand, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. "Amélie was just asking what you were up to."

"Probably nothing interesting compared to you lovebirds. Was talking to Trevor--can't let Luke get ahead of me in the whole having a life department."

She tried to think of a quick response to his joke, but came up with nothing she deemed funny enough.

"Luke tells me you like studying here cause it's different. How so?"

"Um, everything... is feeling bigger here. The city, the campus. And obviously... English. There is like... zero English in my town. We use some words... but not lots."

"Well, seems like you're doing great. Don't stress it. Plus you've got this guy," he gestured to Luke, "to help you out, right?"

She blushed, "Yes, Lu is... super."

Luke grinned, leaning in and whispering, "Told you he likes you."

~~

"I don't know how I'm gonna survive without you, Am," Luke admitted, wiping the tears from his face. His usually calm, relaxed demeanor was gone, replaced with a raw vulnerability.

Amélie had told herself she wasn't going to cry, but seeing Luke cry made that impossible. Her tears had started as soon as his had. "You will, Lu. You are so strong. And... I will not be gone forever."

He shook his head, intertwining their fingers. "I know, but... shit's gonna feel so different without you here. I'm used to having you here all the time. And now I won't see you until summer. I don't know how to do that."

"You'll have Jack, the guys, your family. I'm just... a plane away. We will FaceTime, and before you know... I am back. And I will meet Quinn... and your parents."

Luke rested his head in her lap, letting her run her fingers through his hair. She could feel his tears soaking the fabric of her jeans. "I'm gonna miss you so fucking much, Am."

"I'll miss you too, Lu. So, so much."

They stayed like that for a long time, just wrapped in each other's embraces. Neither of them wanted to let go. Neither of them wanted to admit how hard the next few months would be. They just wanted to stay together... forever.

~~

Amélie was sitting at her desk, her phone propped up against her water bottle as Luke's face filled the screen. His hair was a mess and his eyes drooping. She could tell he had just gotten home from practice.

"Hey, beautiful," he greeted.

"Hey, you," she replied, resting her chin on her hand. "How was practice?"

"Exhausting," he groaned. "But seeing your face makes it better."

Amélie blushed, biting her lip as she smiled. Before she could respond, she heard her brothers' voices coming from down the hall.

"Ah, c'est qui, Amélie?" (who is it, Amélie?)

"Son chum?" the other laughed. (her boyfriend?)

"Ahhh, mais Luke, t'es ben chix." (Ahhh, but Luke, you're so hot.)

"Ferme ta gueule!" Amélie shouted. (Shut your mouth!)

Luke burst out laughing at the look on his girlfriend's face. "What're they saying?"

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "They're being idiots. Teasing me about you."

"Teasing, huh?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "What did they say? Come on, tell me."

She sighed, getting closer to the camera with a small smirk. "They said you're... how would that translate.... that you're 'hot.'"

"Oh, did they know? You must have good pictures of me hanging up then, huh?"

"They're just being annoying. They think it's funny to tease me because I love an American."

"Well, tell them I appreciate the compliment. And tell them I say 'hi'," he teased.

Amélie shook her head but shouted, "Luke dit bonjour!"

From the hallway, her brothers responded with exaggerated greetings in their broken English, making the couple laugh.

"They're something else, huh? I can't wait to meet them one day."

"They'll probably want you to ask Cole for free Habs tickets. But... in a few weeks, I'll be back and I'll get to meet all of your family."

Luke's eye lit up at the thought. "I know! I've been counting down the days, baby. I can't wait for you to be here again!"

"Me neither. Excited to meet Quinn and your parents."

"Yeah, my mom's super excited to meet you!"

"I'm a little nervous though."

"Don't be! They are gonna love you so much, Am!"

"I love you, Lu."

"I love you more, Amélie. Only a few more weeks, then we'll be together again. I can't wait."

"You promise?"

"I promise. And I'm gonna spoil you so much. Just you, me, and the lake."

"Can't wait."

[n30nwrites]

hiya neon <3

How you been ? ໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶ ꒱ྀི১₊˚⊹♡

hope you're having a good day ~ ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Anyways, can you write something fluffy about poly!141 and male reader

Just...cuddle piles bro...hhfjsjsk

-- 🪸anon

Like Real People Do (Poly!141 x Male Reader)

Sorry this wasn't long, a lot has happened in my life lol.

I've been okay, everything is turning up.

I debated on doing more but if It did it would've turned to angst so.

You were always tired, work didn't have to be stressful and you would still be tired. You think it had to do with interacting people, just talking could make you tired.

The only thing that could make it better, were the people that greeted you at your home.

Gaz is cooking. The smell swallows you and your stomach turns, growling for the food. You can tell its Gaz simply because of the smell of seasoning, something you were still helping the other three boys on. Soap and Ghost either did Microwavable dinners or take out, and Price thought that the only seasoning he should use is salt and pepper.

He's such an old man.

Your knees ached, as did your ankles and back. It was usually hurting, but you never got it checked out, didn't consider it important too.

The solo mission lasted 3 months, you know they had each other for company and some part of you questioned if they really needed you. If they could last without you for 3 months, what's the rest of their life?

Then Soap opens the door and grabs you like his life depends on it, and all that doubt disappears. He holds you, his arms wrapped around tight and your bag of items drops to reciprocate the hug. He feels like home.

They are home.

You attempt to let go and take a step forward but he still holds on, and you kind of just awkwardly shuffle into the door.

Ghost calls out your name and announces you're home. Price comes through the door wearing your favorite pair of sweatpants (that looked so good on him) and a tanktop, Ghost is in similar wear, and you could take a guest that they just stayed home all day.

"Soap you gotta let him go at one point." Soap is buried in your chest, pushing himself further so his words come out mumbled. "What is Gaz cooking?"

"How do you know it's Gaz cooking?" Price asks.

"Cause I can smell how good it is, you left the window open." You tell him which causes Ghost to go over and shut it, locking it as well.

"He's making some rogan josh-"

"Oh god..." You moaned, most of the food you ate was dry crackers (that tasted like cardboard) and some bad lasagna. You had always loved food, that was one downfall to being the governments rat. "God I'm starving."

"Thankfully you're home just in time." Gaz comes in wearing the stupid apron you got him, it's pink and frilly, a stupid gift because that was just the tradition on Christmas. Soap had gotten you a shirt that said 'Don't Bully Me I'll Cum :(' on it, which unironically became your favorite. You got Simon a shirt that said 'I Identify as an American Patriot and this is my Pride Flag' which the Brit hated but everyone else had a great time.

"Tell me you have naan."

He did

----

You ate like you hadn't before, the dinner was delicious and it brought you all to the bedroom to rest like never before.

You laid against the pillows set up on the wall, Gaz was laying in between your legs and on your chest, Price was laying on your right side, his head resting on your shoulder as Ghost laid on the opposite with Soap on top of him, though with the way Soap was laying, he was on top of everyone. Soap was holding your hand as you rested your head on Ghost, the tv is playing a show called The Maid, it was interesting so far, you were going in and out of focus on it, more focus on your boyfriends next to you.

Eventually husbands, hopefully.

You took a glance to the side where the bedtable sat. You each got a drawer for your stuff, and in yours were five rings that took 5 paychecks to get. You were just waiting.

There would be a right time.

Soap's loud snores fill the air, and you laugh a little at how sudden it is, as does Ghost. The bed was crowded but none of you cared, it was perfect.

They were perfect.

"I love you guys." You mumble, and Price leans over to you, causing you to turn your head and kisses you. It's soft, not leading to anything and it's not holding expectations, it's warm and soft and everything to you. And when he stops, you just smile, because this was it.

[fairuzfan]

i seriously don't even have the words to describe what it's felt like as a native person learning about "holocaust exceptionalism" or whatever for the first time during all of this

the first time i saw a tweet talking about how it wasn't appropriate to compare any other genocide (and specifically this person was talking about the native american genocide(s), along with several others i've seen since & most of the "historians" who go this route, too) to the holocaust because unlike in those cases, where there was a clear logical reason for the wholesale slaughter of millions of people, the holocaust was senseless! it was just killing innocent people for no reason, which is completely different from when they got rid of all those dumb indians standing in the way of Progress & wasting the precious resources the colonizers needed much more... i thought they were just some random dickhead saying intentionally terrible shit online for engagement

but then i just kept seeing people saying similar things, and eventually while reading up on palestinian history, i find out that this has apparently been a zionist (and in many cases non-zionist, which maybe feels even worse) talking point for decades now?

(and increasingly, over the last few weeks, i've seen it shift to this more broad claim that comparing any genocide to any other genocide is harmful, actually... which is such a dumb argument to try to pass off as genuine when, among other things, there's literally an entire field called "genocide studies" that it's honestly almost funny)

i can't think of anything in recent memory that's felt like such a brutal slap in the face as finding out the belief that the systematic murder of my people was a completely logical, understandable course of action--arguably a net positive, even, in the long run--is now and long has been this commonly held. i've felt sick since ever since. how do you say shit like that and not understand that you're implicitly rationalizing and, to some extent, justifying it? how do you not hear yourself?

forgive me, i know it must feel very eye-roll-worthy to have someone come yelling to you right now about how badly their people are treated by zionists, but every time i see someone parroting off an argument along these lines, i swear i can just feel my faith in humanity slip a little more lol

yeah, fuck off with this bullshit for sure

oh don't apologize, i totally understand why you would want to talk about this. thank you for sending this, and I'm so sorry that youre going through this. it really is an inconsiderate talking point at the very least.... i wish the best for you and yours in these times.

[bad268]

heyy could you write a kimi x reader story where the reader is american? sorta inspired by olivia rodrigo’s so american possibly? tyyy love your writing

So American (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X American! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (thank you lovey! I'm sorry this is short, olivia rodrigo is not my main type of music, so this was the first time I heard it lol)

Warnings: Aged up Kimi

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 840

Summary: So American by Olivia Rodrigo

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

God, you were gonna marry him if he kept this shit up. He was just perfect, and you were sure you were in love. 

Kimi was written by a female, you could tell. The way he was just all around perfect, you couldn’t get over it. He was the perfect person to be with, the perfect gentleman, and the best companion. You would happily follow him anywhere he went.

Late-night drives were the best. Where you two would fly down the nearly empty roads, your feet up on the dashboard, you two felt free. Granted, late-night drives did not happen as much as you wanted them to since his schedule was so hectic, and they were only really used to help you two go to sleep. You would happily sit in the passenger seat, wearing one of Kimi’s shirts and sweatpants as you picked the best music to pick the vibes.

“You’re so American,” Kimi chuckled one night when you played Party in the U.S.A.

“This is what makes you think I’m American?” You chuckled back, moving to change the song.

“No, leave it,” Kimi stopped you, moving his hand from the shifter to push your phone down and hold your hand. “I like that you’re so American. It’s cute.”

“Ah, you think I’m cute?” You joked, making your voice an octave higher.

“Of course I do,” He chuckled again, bringing your intertwined hands up to his lips to place a kiss on your knuckles. “You’re the cutest.”

God, it wasn’t fair! How could this vroom vroom guy make you feel this much? If he kept this shit up, you might be in lo-

That drive made you realize you didn’t just love Kimi, but you were in love with him. He was everything to you and that interaction helped put that into perspective for you. You were infatuated with him. You would talk about him any chance you could to anyone who would listen. You could not stop thinking or talking about him. His style and his interests became yours. You used to be such a homebody, fully content with sleeping the day away, but man,  it’s hard to sleep when he’s with you.

It was one of those off weekends during the summer break. Mercedes gave their drivers the first week completely off. No media, no training, no nothing. Just a free break to rest, recuperate, relax and recharge. Kimi decided to spend it in America with you. He had only been to America for the Miami Grand Prix, but he wanted to visit your hometown and stay for a while. His family was fine with it since it’s easier to stop by Italy when most of the races are in Europe. America is a little farther away.

And you two did exactly what he wanted. You took him around your neighborhood, showed him around all of your favorite spots, and had fun not abiding by the harsh racing schedule for a week. It was nice to just stop and be teens for a week. It wasn’t until the night before he had to head back to Brackley for media and training that you realized you didn't want to let him go again.

You both laid in bed, a movie long forgotten in the background. Kimi was asleep, but you were wide awake. You were busy memorizing every feature of his face, counting his freckles, twirling his curls. You watched his breaths steady as he fell Anything, everything, and nothing all at the same time. You didn’t want him to go back yet.

“Are you going to keep staring at me or will you eventually go to sleep?” Kimi’s groggy voice broke you out of your trance. You were so lost in your thoughts, you didn't realize he woke up. You stared at him in shock, and when his word registered, your eyes became watery. Of course, being the ever-attentive boyfriend he is, Kimi noticed immediately, making a move to sit up and turn on the lamp. He pulled you into his arms and held you against his chest, “Hey, amore (love), what’s going on? You can talk to me.”

“I don’t want you to go back yet,” You whimpered as you hid your face in his chest. “I’m sorry if it’s a little too much or a little too soon, and I don't wanna assume this stuff, but do you love me? I think I’m in love with you, and I’m not ready to say goodbye to you yet.”

“Hey, slow down,” Kimi comforted, pulling you back a little to rest his forehead against yours to look you in the eyes. He whispered, “Ti amo mille (I love you so much).”

“God, I wanna marry you,” You sighed with a light laugh. “Is it too soon to say that?”

“No,” He laughed with you, pulling you into a brief kiss. “I can always take you with me. I wouldn’t mind having il mio Americano (my American) with me for a while. I’d love it actually.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[thegnomelord]

Sorry for blowing up your inbox, but you've really got my creative juices flowing. So I want to expand on 2 ideas.

No. 1

Shrike Harpy Reader w/ oblivious Graves (bc from my knowledge, he's usually a vampire or regular guy) or Ghost (bc he was human before)

In which Shrike reader is getting progressively more obvious with their advances bc Ghost/Graves don't understand. The particular idea I had was where they think it's some kind of threat or prank. So reader is getting more obvious, and they think that the threat/prank is getting more intense.

That would be hilarious! Obviously, they will either find out or be told about the advances eventually. But the idea that you are courting them and they miss the mark entirely is so funny to me. Especially if their teammates laugh and refuse to tell them the obvious truth.

No. 2

Going off of the spider's sexual dimorphism + a different version of monster au. Pairing spider hybrid reader w/ octopus (cthulhu?) König (if you do reqs for him), where spider reader looks at him and is like:

So you're telling me there's an eight-legged hybrid, approximately five times my size, that could snap my spine like a toothpick, just beyond enemy lines.... Do you need someone to volunteer for a solo recon mission any time soon?

Oh no! My recon mission turned into a hostage situation, how unfortunate. But while I'm here, I should interrogate him... yeah, interrogating is exactly what I'll be doing with this giant tied up man rn....

👑 anon

No, no, anon I'm always so happy reading all the stuff you guys send me! I know next to nothing about Konig except the stuff I've read about him that turns him into a really perverted disgusting degenerate and while I'm not comfortable writing that, I hope one of my mutes picks it up bc it is super cool! I got a dancing with Ghost ask I really wanna do so Graves it is lol

CW:SWF-ish turns suggestive at the end, Graves being oblivious

Graves hates being the butt of the joke.

For the last couple of months he's been getting 'gifts' in the form of chunks of meat stabbed through various knives. It had started a knife being stabbed through burgers and steaks(typical American food), which he couldn't eat, but slowly progressed to rarer and rarer pieces of meat until he wound up finding just raw and bloody chunks of meat; a leg of some large animal turned into a pincushion, a still beating heart stabbed through with a knife, livers shish kebabed on a bayoneted blade. . .

And he'd find them everywhere, in the communal fridge, in his office, in his room. And while he didn't mind the free meal, he was a little unnerved. He knew it was you doing it because he had screened the minds of all his shadow's, but he didn't know why you were doing it.

He can see the way his shadows smirk at you when he finds another bloody organ skewered on your favorited knife in the fridge, your feathers puffing up and a not so quiet chirp escaping your lips when he sneaks the meat away to feast on.

You also become more touchy with him when you notice him accepting your gifts, though he has no idea of it. He trusts you, which is why you're allowed to sneak up on him, your wings spreading out to wrap around him like a cloak as you chirp a "Hello commander."

It makes him jump out of his skin, and though he chastises you about it, it's never as harsh as he could make it, his shadows giving him a knowing look that he can't reciprocate.

That's the worst part. None of his shadows will tell him anything.

He doesn't know much about your species of harpy except for the generalized knowledge of extreme speed and craftiness, so he can't figure out if this is some kind of joke, or threat, or you just seeing him as part of the flock? Or maybe it means nothing? He's especially confused when you grow bolder and one day he walks into his office to see a Bison leg sitting on his desk, once again skewered. Where did you even get the bloody bison? Hell knows but certainly not him.

Eventually a shadow grows annoyed by your constant bloody gifts in the fridge and with a very annoyed huff drops a harpy encyclopedia on his desk.

He'll need to get them a gift basket after this; he spends the next few hours just reading about all kinds of harpies, ears progressively getting hotter as the book delves deep into every aspect of the harpies, each sub-race's specific courting and matting habit and making him feel like he's reading porn.

Then he finds a chapter about your type of harpy, eyes growing wide like dinnerplates as he reads about your quirks. He doesn't know whether to go search for a cross or tissues. He reads more and more, turning pages upon pages, his eyes scorching every anatomical picture into his brain and making him think of what you're packing, his pants growing tight as the minutes tick down.

Just his luck that you'd decided the moment when his face is the hottest to walk into his office without knocking, another skewered offering on a plate in your hands.

"Christ!" He yelps, slamming the book shut and looking at you like you're his parent and caught him looking at a playboy magazine.

You puff up in surprise, your wings spreading out a bit before flattening back to your back, a soothing chirp leaving your lips. It used to mean nothing to him, now he knows what it means, his cock getting a bit harder in his pants.

"You alright commander?" You ask, walking closer, the talons of your feet clicking against the ground.

"Yes, yep, perfectly fine." He grunts, desperately hoping his vampiric state will suppress the heat in his face, but to no avail. "You-" His eyes settle on the plate in your hands, his body practically conditioned to salivate when he sees a familiar knife sticking out of the food.

"I?" You ask, then you note the book on his desk, your head tilting in confusion. "Graves?"

He swallows, eyes darting from the food to you, and he doesn't know which one he's starved for more. "You've been wooing me like a dolly huh?" He asks.

"Yeah." You're unsure of what else to say, in your head, had he not wanted your advances he would have never taken your offerings. Then you realize. "Don't tell me you just noticed." You deadpan.

Graves gives that awkward chuckle you've grown to love, and you decide you need to be bolder. You place the plate on his desk and lean over it, a coo rumbling in your chest— deeper, rougher, seductive.

"How about I show you what I want?"

[nerdygaymormon]

Didn’t he try to get his gay employee to marry a woman lol? I love him, he was a sweet, kind man, but also old and a lifelong Republican.

Most American voters register with one of the two major political parties. I don't know why Fred Rogers registered as a Republican, but what Republicans stood for in the 1950's & 1960's is very different from how we think of that party today. According to his wife, Fred was "very independent in the way he voted."

————————————————————

It is true that Fred Rogers encouraged a gay employee to marry a woman. I think it's an unfortunate part of his history, but I think it's helpful to fill in more of the story.

Francois Clemmons was hired by Fred Rogers to be the first Black person to have a recurring role on children’s television. He would be Officer Clemmons on the show Mister Rogers' Neighborhood, and he kept that roll for 25 years.

In his memoir, Officer Clemmons, Franc shares that one day in 1968, he was called into Fred’s office at the studio.

“Franc, we’ve come to love you here in the Neighborhood. You have talents and gifts that set you apart and above the crowd, and we want to ensure your place with us. Someone, we’re not able to say who, has informed us that you were seen at the local gay bar downtown with a buddy from school. Now I want you to know, Franc, that if you’re gay, it doesn’t matter to me at all. Whatever you say and do is fine with me, but if you’re going to be on the show, as an important member of the Neighborhood, you can’t be ‘out’ as gay. People must not know. … Many of the wrong people will get the worst idea, and we don’t want them thinking and talking about you like that. If those people put up enough fuss, then I couldn’t have you on the program. It’s not an issue for me. I don’t think you’re less of a person. I don’t think you’re immoral.”

Clemmons began to sob because he could only have the job only if he stayed in the closet.

If it had been known a gay man was a regular part of a children's show, it would've been cancelled. Remember, this is pre-Stonewall.

“You can have it all if you can keep that part of it out of the limelight. Have you ever thought of getting married? People do make some compromises in life.”

Francois Clemmons married a woman in 1968. In 1974 they divorced and Franc began living as an openly gay man.

Fred Rogers changed his advice, urging Clemmons to find a gay man he was happy with. He also stopped asking Clemmons to remain in the closet, and he warmly welcomed Clemmons' gay friends whenever they visited the television set. I've read that this change came from Fred getting to know and becoming friends with gay people.

—————————

Having a Black man as a police officer on the show was making a statement in support of Civil Rights. The most iconic encounter between Officer Clemmons and Mr. Rogers on the television show occurred in 1969.

At a time when many community pools were strictly segregated, Mr. Rogers invited Officer Clemmons to join him and cool his feet in a plastic wading pool. As Officer Clemmons was getting out of the pool, Mr. Rogers helped him dry his feet.

This exemplified the message that all people are equal and valued and loved

The core values of the television show were: Love your neighbor as yourself, be kind, say “I'm sorry,” smile, accept people and help them grow, be forgiving, see each day as a new chance to be happy, positive and kind. The show talked about grief, divorce, race issues and disability.

Fred Rogers' character regularly said, “there's no person in the whole world just like you” and “I like you just the way you are.” It was an example of radical acceptance.

In addition to Franc Clemmons, John Reardon is another openly gay man who regularly appeared on Mister Rogers' Neighborhood, so it seems Fred Rogers personally didn't have an issue with gay people, but having them be open on the show was not something possible at that time. I'm sad that an openly gay character never occurred on the show.

Fred Rogers shared that evangelicals would sometimes write to him asking him to condemn homosexuality, and he never would, instead saying he — and God — loved everyone just as they were. Since 1967, Fred and his wife worshipped at Pittsburgh’s Sixth Avenue Presbyterian Church which was a diverse, progressive church where women were equal, social justice was the theme, and since the 1960's has engaged in a ministry to gay people and was the first Presbyterian church to ordain gays & lesbians.

While he was not a public advocate for gay rights, his message of unconditional acceptance didn't exclude any genders, orientations or races.

[elsa-fogen]

Ok, Rosie headcanon for you!! Might be a slight AU but whatever lol

I like to imagine that Rosie is actually REALLY old. Died in the 1400s or something (maybe for being a suspected witch 👀) , and she just sort of kept up with the times until she found a period that suited her (getting there on that). This also ties into Cannibal Town/Colony name thing!!

Idk how much you know about American history (I know if I didn't live in this crazy country I'd know nothing by choice lol), but in the late 1500s Roanoke Colony was established where North Carolina is now. They struggled with supplies and relations with native people so the founder left to get supplies/help etc; when he came back 5 years later everyone had disappeared without a trace, no graves, bodies, only the word "CROATOAN" carved into a rock. It's a mystery nobody has solved since.

BUT.

WHAT IF.

They ran out of resources, right? What if food ran so low that people began to resort to cannibalism? And things were going so badly that some desperate person tried to summon a demon, anything to help them?

And Rosie, twisted and dark as she may be, took her own sort of sympathy on the poor, struggling colony of Roanoke, and took them all down to Hell as her own colony of souls: Cannibal Colony, leaving Roanoke empty without a trace of its inhabitants. From then on, she just sort of adopted any cannibals who fell into hell as part of her little town, so long as they assimilated and didn't cause trouble. She owns all their souls, yes, but they have some level of peace and security knowing she'll take care of them.

With the "updating culture" thing, I also headcanon that she liked to keep up with the times and stay current until sometime after slavery ended, a little before Alastor arrived (depression era) she didn't like where modern times were headed and just sort of...stopped progress, like a time capsule. Modern times started progressing too fast, and she didn't want everything to be forgotten in the rush to the future, especially the way the human world was looking with the depression. She did rename them to Cannibal Town eventually, since it was more than just her original Colony that gave her Overlord status.

I love Rosie 👁👄👁 sorry for the giant text block lol

P.S. Your art inspires me so much!! And your characterizations are *chef's kiss* I feel like your blog is consistently one I can come to to get canon-accurate character content without facing an onslaught of r********e (finally someone who can't stand it as much as me! Sending all the love 💓

oH WOW! This is really damn good and interesting headcanon! You almost convinced me to change mine to this (well, i like the idea of Rosie being SUSPECTED witch gshssh angssssst yessss). I realized that actually I don't have much that keeps me from just accepting this. Only 2 things

one is that she in her life was fighting for women's rights, and keeps doing it in hell, but i guess she still can even being older.

second one is more important. Rosie and Alastor are roughly same age (30-40 age gap is nothing in hell, were age gaps can be thousands of years) and this is one of the reasons they get along, i think.

Plus in my plot Rosie being a relatively young overlord plays significant role...

But as i said, you headcanon really cool! Maybe i'd use it for some new AU haha

P.S. Your art inspires me so much!! And your characterizations are *chef's kiss* I feel like your blog is consistently one I can come to to get canon-accurate character content without facing an onslaught of r********e (finally someone who can't stand it as much as me! Sending all the love 💓

GAHYHHHAFGS THANK YOU! I'm really happy to know that i'm not alone on this hate board hsbfsdhfj

Here you can be safe, never ever you'll see anything positive about this ship on my blog 😂 (no offence to those who likes it) Love you too 💖💖💖

[phyrestartr]

Vampire | Miguel x M!Reader

Vampire!Miguel x Reader W/C: 5.9k

#NSFW, vampires, blood, gore, violence, bottom!reader, top!Miguel, mentions of sex work, mentions of assault, it's kinda cute idk, posessive behaviour, questionable relationship, reader is morally grey, reader is lowkey a criminal though lol, Johnny Blaze = Nic Cage 5ever sorry not sorry

Note: I FINISHED IT! Lost steam with editing so some bits may be kinda weird and word-y, but I really enjoyed writing this honestly :clap: ty guys for voting for me to finish this o(--( I actually finished it so quickly wtf--

--

Vampires. Blood-sucking, man-killing, devil-calling creatures. Many feared them, even now, even after the legends of Dracula faded into obscurity and out of the minds of mortal men. But there were some who kept weary watch on the old castle looming before your meager town: older folks, the ones with bleached scars and haunted voices, with quivering hands and a phobia of the dark. 

You thought they all spun tales, convinced themselves of a time that never happened thanks to whatever their parents hushedly told them come the waning of the sun. “Don't leave the house after dark,” “be wary of the man you know not,” “pray to God for his protection,” is what you figured they'd been told. You couldn't blame them. Not really. Mass hysteria, mass lies told to the young had a penchant for warping their minds, destroying their futures. 

But still, you'd listen. Face alight with a smile, one ear turned their way as you poured drinks for whatever patron came bumbling your way that night. There was one man, one who claimed to have been touched by the devil himself, momentarily transformed into something wicked and unholy, who frequented the establishment. 

“Come on now, Johnny,” you chided with a laugh, “you don't really believe all that rubbish. Touched by the devil? You Americans really are the dramatic sort, aren't you?” 

“You don't need to believe all of it,” Johnny said mildly. “You just need to believe a sliver of it. It'll do you some good. Keep you safe.” 

You smiled to yourself as you busily made a drink for a new customer. “Yeah? Keep me safe from what, exactly?” Your eyes met his, then, and you found your blood stood in place for a moment. 

“You know what.” The devil. He'd said it too many times to count without uttering his name. “Just be smart.”

“I'm always smart,” you said with a phony laugh, the sort you used to lull women and men into some cheap sense of comfort. 

“Smart people do dumb things, too.” He took a swig of his drink before peering down at the amber pooling against crystal. “Like sneaking around old, unhallowed castles.” 

You pursed your lips. “I'm just curious, old man, you don't need to worry. I've not been inside, yeah? Just looked ‘round the outside of the old place.” That's probably filled with loads of goods. 

But Johnny only stared at you, calculating, thinking. It almost unnerved you. 

“Just be careful.” 

And in that moment, a man whose name you didn’t know, but whose body you knew too well, walked into the bar. His shoulders were impossibly broad, his frame unnaturally tall, and from the glimpses you were allowed of his face hidden away under the brim of that hat, you remembered strong lines and proud cheekbones. His eyes, a bizarre colour, always glimmered ruby in the firelight thanks to some strange disease you never quite remembered the name of, and his hair, a dark oaken hue, wisped like tendrils of shadow rolling off his strong neck. 

He didn’t look at you, but you couldn’t look away. Your gaze followed him to where he found a quiet seat off to the side by a small table. He wouldn’t order anything. He never did. He only ever waited for your shift to end. 

“Kid?” Johnny prodded, freeing you from your momentary curse.

You blinked and sputtered, nodding in earnest to whatever Johnny had said. “I–right. Careful. I’m always careful.” 

–

Just be careful.

But that was impossible with this otherworldly spirit around you, waiting for you every other night just for the sake of bedding you, and leaving before morning with nothing but a stack of bills (or sometimes some jewelry, if you were lucky) to remember him by. Your favourite client by far. Your only client, per his request.

Your fists twisted into the bedsheets as you gasped with every brutal crashing of the man’s hips against yours as he took you from behind. He was in a bad mood tonight, it seemed. Normally, he liked to take it slow, he liked to savour his meal, but for some reason–

His hand clasped over your mouth when his teeth tore into your neck again. The cry that left you was hoarse and tired, but not so surprised, no; the man had his kinks, and one just so happened to be biting. He did quite the number on you, too, always breaking skin and leaving scars and scabs in his wake. But it felt good. It felt right to be claimed. The greedy, ugly little part of your heart wanted people to know you were taken and owned by this strange, captivating man.

“Fuck, I–” You buried your face into the mattress as another orgasm hit, striking your dull nerves like hammer on hot iron thrust after thrust. Soon enough, you felt his body stutter against yours just before an uncanny, liquid gold filled your guts and seeped into your core–he was finally done. Finally. Though part of you wished it didn’t have to end. 

His teeth, the pointed, feral things, dislodged from your neck before he ran the flat of his tongue against the weeping wound. Somehow, that always staunched the bleeding. You didn’t quite understand it, but you weren’t exactly well-versed in medicine.

“Tired already?” He mocked in that smokey, American accent. “Thought the young had more than that to offer.” The purr of his voice soothed the pulsing start of a headache as you came down from your high. Yet another strange effect he had on you. 

You took a good handful of moments to catch your breath before you tried to hazard an answer. “I’m–you’re in some kind of mood, darling; can’t blame me for your brutality.” You turned your head to rest your cheek against the scratchy sheets, and the beast took the opportunity to leave nips and kisses along your jaw. 

“Tch. I’m just reminding you who you belong to. Where you belong.” Sharp teeth grazed your skin again, and you shuddered. “No one likes to see theirs fawning over another man.” 

You strained to look back at him. “You–you mean Johnny? He’s not–I wouldn’t let him bed me, are you mad?” A rough push of his hips against yours reprimanded you. “H-He’s a mate, love, that’s all.”

The man twitched. “A mate?” 

“A friend, you bloody idiot.”

He relaxed, but still sought confirmation. “A friend.”

“A friend, indeed. Father-figure, maybe.” With a bit of effort, you managed to wriggle free from the strength of the man pinning you in place, and laid on your back to gaze up at him. “I’m not interested in him, he’s not interested in men, so you needn’t worry a thing.” One of your worn hands reached up and smoothed over the curve of his sharp cheekbone, drawing a pleased hum from the chamber of the beast’s chest. 

“Fine.” He rested his weight on you, and you sighed, content and warmed. But that bony chin digging into your chest was a tad bit fucking irritating. “Then if he’s not trying to fuck you, what makes you listen to him for hours on end, hm?” Hah. Annoyed. Jealous. Quite endearing. 

“He has stories to tell,” you offered. “Words about the devil and the curse of the undead. About Dracula and that old castle.” 

The man’s brows raised in interest. “Oh? And you like ghost stories, is that it? Here I figured I'd be enough to keep your mind entertained,” he said with a taunting smirk, like he thought your suggested belief in those spooky tales was laughable. 

Heat washed over your face. “I–you–shut up, I just like me a good story, is that so wrong? Tch, stupid American.”

He laughed, a sound you adored to hell and back. “I’ll keep it in mind. Might have a few good stories up my sleeve, too.” His head tilted the slightest bit. “Maybe then your eyes won’t wander.”

“Terribly jealous one, aren’t you? I never would’ve guessed it.” You raked your hands through his hair and he sighed, deep and ancient. But your words were true–this man, your mysterious client-turned-lover, he captivated all wherever he traveled. With so many eyes on him, why did he want you to look nowhere else but to him? 

Greedy man. That’s what you decided. He wanted everything and more. 

“Other men don't get to look at what's mine,” he mumbled after a time of you pampering him with pets and scritches. “And you're mine, for the record.” 

“Hm. I quite like the sound of that.” 

“Then marry me.” 

“I'm not sure I can,” you lamented. “I find myself in trouble too often. It puts me on the run, jumping from town to city and back again.” 

“You'd never have to run again if you let me have you.” He picked himself up and loomed over you, brushing his nose against yours as he spoke against your lips. “You'd be safe, cared for, never want for anything. None of those sacks of shit would would lay a finger on you again.” His lips trailed down, brushing against the thick vein in your neck. “I think it's for the best if you agree.” 

You almost argued back, but the large hand engulfing your throat gave you pause. He didn't hurt you, no, but gave you a silent warning. The power that man held over you contradicted his weakness to your wants and desires, and twisted your thoughts into unorganized knots. 

“I'll think on it,” you breathed, not wanting to say yes but unwilling to say no. You didn't want marriage, but commitment was a tantalizing idea. You'd just never thought it'd happen to you. 

His eyes came back to yours again. Your heart fluttered at the glints of carmine shimmering in candle-lit eyes. God, he was beautiful. 

“I better like your answer.” 

–

You left. You hated doing it, you hated running from your problems and whatever seemed to haunt you day to day, but too much happened in too short a time. 

For one, the landlord demanded more and more rent money from you when he noticed your gifted jewelry and newly tailored coat, and then, when you didn't give it to him, he took to trying to get payment another way. You shot him, obviously. 

Which led to your second reason for leaving–you'd shot a man and fled the scene, unknowing if he was alive or not, and uncaring of the outcome, quite frankly. You figured the lowlife would be more pressed about the money than dying, anyway. 

And third, the bar you worked at found out you'd been swindling and stealing on the job, pocketing tips and taking home near-empty bottles to refill with something of your own design to sell on the streets. Admittedly, it was fine work, but you'd long abandoned that method of money-making once that stranger wandered into your life and offered you more cash than you could imagine.

But you liked that bar. You liked those patrons. No strings attached.

And that's why you were back. Not with the intention to stay, no; you were back to scout out the castle after getting confirmation from some university lads about how valuable the old place was. You figured you could find enough in there with the scoundrels you'd come with, and maybe you could pay the old owner back before leaving for good. 

You'd never have to run again if you'd let me have you. 

Maybe you should've just said yes.

– 

The castle stood beautifully, even with the screams of the slaughtered ringing through the halls. It was big, too, eagerly letting you get lost in its enchanting halls and inviting rooms as you tried in vain to remember the way out. 

That's when you crashed into one of the uni snobs you'd come with, Harry. He was a mess, clothes and hair out of place for once, with a spray of sticky blood coating his face and white shirt. Osborn must've seen their tormentor. 

He grabbed your shoulders as you grabbed his arms. “We have to go, we have to go–” he chanted, pulling and pushing you in undecided directions. 

“Osborn, where did you see it? Where–” Another scream gave you a hint. Your eyes snapped down the hallway, staring deep into the torchlit halls and finding nothing but the unknown staring back. 

Then, there were footsteps. Slow, methodical things that rung to a tune hidden in your memories.

“We have to go,” you whispered, like that'd help. “Osborn, we have to–” a splitting pain electrocuted your senses and sent you stumbling backwards. The world spun. Your head ached. Funeral bells shrieked. Worst of all, that dress shirt and that fancy jacket you loved so much were stained suddenly, a foul colour of darkness that reeked of pennies and iron. It took you too long to look back to the student, and to see the smoking pistol held out in his shaky hand. 

“I had to,” Osborn whispered, so, so haunted. “I had to. You understand.” And quite frankly, you did understand; wounding a lamb to leave behind for a wolf to indulge in was a sure way to let a farmer escape. 

Harry took off. You grasped your stomach and leaned hard against the wall, trying to pull yourself together to make some kind of run for it before those languid steps found you and cut your story short. But you felt so tired, so dizzy. The red weeping under your hand and the bewildered pants leaving you left you colder and colder. You wondered if Osborn had shot himself in the foot with this one (hah), killing the sacrificial lamb, rendering it useless to what was believed to be a vampire of all things. They devoured the living, not the dead. 

Clack, clack, clack. The haunting echo of fine shoes on wooden slats passed you by, then vanished all together. You collapsed to your knees and heaved in the burning air just as a deafening screech ricocheted through the halls with the echo of frantic gunfire, and the slosh of viscera. You fought back the burn of bile in your throat when you braved a look; there laid a body on the floor, and a corpse standing above it, illuminated just barely by torchlight. 

His shoulders were impossibly broad, his frame unnaturally tall–

“We could have avoided all of this,” the creature growled. 

–from the glimpses you were allowed of his face hidden in the swath of darkness around him, you remembered strong lines and proud cheekbones–

“But you didn’t listen.”

–his eyes, a bizarre colour, glimmered ruby in the firelight thanks to some strange disease you never quite remembered the name of– 

“Why couldn’t you just listen?”

–and his hair, a dark oaken hue, wisped like tendrils of shadows rolling off his strong neck.

He appeared beside you so suddenly, so soundlessly, you wouldn’t have known he approached if it weren’t for the strength of your fluttering eyelids seeking the truth. You stared hard at the tips of his leather shoes. Perhaps you should’ve known it was him all along. Perhaps you had known. 

He knelt before you and forced your chin up, making your eyes meet his as he stared down through you. Blood marred his face, matching the wine-red hue of his furious, gem-cut eyes; even like this, teeth bared, about to kill you, he was beautiful. 

“Look what you’ve done. This is your fault–”

But that beauty was wasted on such a foul-mouthed monster. 

“My fault?” You spat. “Fuck you.” You tore your chin from his grip, but his hand sought out your throat instead. “Don’t fucking touch me–”

He smiled, bitter but so wholly and infuriatingly amused before he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll do whatever I want with you.” And before you could lash out, before you could throw a fist at his stupid face, he yanked you in and bit.

A winter breeze rippled through you. Cold. Piercing. And you gradually froze like water dripping from the gutters, no longer able to fight back, too sluggishly slow to do anything about your fate. You breathed hard, feeling the hole in your stomach and ache of your heart weep and worsen with every shattering breath you took. Your hands, gentle in their weakness, pawed at his chest and sought a spot to dig in and hold on to for dear life as the waking world turned its back to you.

But despite the bitterness, and despite words exchanged, he held the side of your face as you faded in and out of consciousness. He called something, and a flurry of orange wisps appeared above you. 

–

You awoke to the echoes of a dream, one you hadn’t had for a while. A cloudless night where you’d been caught in bed by a taken woman’s man and beaten half to death; in return, you shredded through the man's chest with a knife from the kitchen while the wife watched on in silence. You'd been ready to kill her, too, slit her throat in one easy motion, but she never screamed, never looked at the wild animal with fear. 

Tell the police he attacked you, miss. 

Well, it wouldn't be the first time.

You fumbled through the alleys after leaving the scene, but others, foul things that roamed the streets where not even rats lingered, found you, threatened to use up the last of what you had to offer this pitiful world. It seemed as though they disappeared in the time it took you to blink, though, and a man was left, standing in their wake. He looked somewhat disheveled, like he’d just finished some grand task, but he was just so put together, too. You struggled to make sense of it, but you didn’t really care to. 

“Well, isn't that impressive,” you said with a breathless laugh. “Not a shred of blood on you. Are you the ripper the paper’s gone on and on about?”

The being glanced over his shoulder, eyes alight in curious mirth. He turned your way and stepped closer. You saw it then, the slightest bit of dark smears on his face.

“Is that what they're calling me?” He adjusted his cuffs, and rolled his shoulders. “Huh.” 

Adrenaline poured into your heart. “You're quite the dangerous man, aren't you, sir?” you swallowed thickly as you looked him over: fine shoes, expensive coat, luxurious rings. “And, ah, well-off. You wouldn't happen to be interested in spreading the wealth, hm?” 

His hand cupped your jaw, sticky with freezing blood, and he leaned in. The pungent scent of iron curled your gut as he breathed you in, making up his mind with what to do with you. Then, with the dry, warm back of his gloved hand, he caressed the side of your face and watched your eyelids flutter, devouring the simple gesture. 

“Let's see if you can convince me to.”

-

“I know you’re awake,” he mumbled.

Curiosity willed your eyes open, and you gazed down at the hollow tube connecting you to the walking corpse. You fought to ease the jump of your heart, but it became impossible when a dark red raced from the vampire's arm down into yours. 

“Is that going to make me like you?” You whispered, nerves twitching and burning with the bite of restless fire ants. 

Crimson eyes found yours and looked deep. “It won't. You can relax.” But you weren't convinced, and your lover could tell. “You'd have to drink my blood.” 

“Why're you giving me your blood, then?” 

“You'll die without it.” He pumped something, you now noticed, and realized it was what drew the blood from his veins and drained it into yours. 

Curious. “Were you a man of medicine?” 

He scoffed. “Still am.” He threw you a wary look, one brow raised. “How many more questions are you–” 

“Your name?” That was something you'd requested before, but always through a veil of uncertainty. You didn't like to ask much of him. He didn't ask much of you. But you didn't know him, yet he knew you. 

Your vampire frowned, unapproving. “What difference will it make?” 

“You asked me to fucking marry you,” you bit out. “And yet you keep so many secrets from me, still. I've given you more than I have, and you can't even–” 

“Miguel.” You both paused–him to gauge your reaction, and you out of shock. “Miguel O'hara.” 

The cracks in your chest mended, just slightly. Miguel O'hara. What a name that was. Formidable and wholly suiting the beast of a man you'd known and craved for far too many years. 

“Miguel O'hara,” you whispered, staring tiredly at the red thread connecting the two of you. The name felt good on your tongue. 

Nothing more was said, then. He must've still felt the tension in the air, or maybe the coil of apprehension in your body, for he worked on in silence, quietly saving your life for no reason. 

It was when he pulled free the needle that you found the will to break the silence on your own. 

“Why didn't you tell me?” It came out a pathetic whisper, sounding as broken as your mind felt. 

He paused before pulling the needle from his own arm. “Tell you what?” 

It was a good question. You didn't know what to ask him to elaborate on. You didn't know if you wanted him to elaborate on anything, actually, because it'd make it too real, too tangible. 

“Everything.” And when he stayed silent, you narrowed it down to just, “all of…you.” 

Miguel licked his thumb and stroked it soothingly against the pinprick of a wound while his brows furrowed and his lips twisted into something of a frown. “How could I?” You both watched the tiny dot of red cease weeping. “If you'd moved on and you knew, it could put everything at risk.” 

If I'd moved on. It felt wrong. It felt uncomfortable to know he felt that somewhere between his ribs and his heart. And for how long? How long had he not trusted you? Did he even trust you in that moment, knowing what and who he truly was? Or were you now doomed to this castle just as he was? 

“I'll let you rest,” Miguel said as he clasped his medical case shut and stood. “Lyla'll bring you food.” 

Thump, thump, thump, echoed his footsteps, those fine shoes muffled by old carpet; but the sharp clack, clack, clack in the hollow echoes of your memories, just before the truth revealed itself to you, swallowed up your thoughts.

“(Name),” Miguel said, and your eyes opened to find the tall, proud back of his silhouette stood at the door, one hand clutching the knob. “Don’t leave this room.” 

And he left you there, heart aching, mind melting, soul shattering. 

–

Solitude reminded you of what else happened. The lads you'd come here with, nothing more than acquaintances, were missing, or perhaps dead. It ate at your mind. Could you have done something different? Could you have convinced him to let them go?

More importantly, would Miguel let you leave? He claimed he wanted to marry you, but words were just words if not put to use with actions. Staying by his side would mean stomaching the fact he'd consume countless other people, wouldn't it? How were you expected to watch your partner(?), your groom-to-be(?), hold and pierce others the way he promised to you and only you?

But could you let him stay here alone, hunted and hated by believers, laughed at by the average skeptic? If you were not here, how many more would walk in on a dare, and meet a terrible end? They didn’t matter, no, but the legend of a vampire would turn more and more true, summoning devil-hunters to his doorstep, stake and flames in-hand.

The thoughts plagued you, filling your head with the terrible buzzing of bees. You couldn't fathom why you cared so much; most of your life you'd lived for your own sake, doing what needed to be done to get by, to have a better tomorrow. You hated other people. A few of them you'd personally buried six feet under, whether they were dead or lived still, and you never batted an eye. You had no patience for those who'd oppose you. 

You would have killed Osborn yourself if O’hara hadn't. And that was the truth. That'd been the truth the whole time, ever since you saw just how expensively he and the others lived; gold dripped from their tongues, silver ran through their veins, diamonds fell from their eyes. You wanted to claim a bit of that for yourself. 

And Miguel had shared his wealth with you, just in exchange for a bit of blood and your body for the night. Surely you could look past what he did to survive, even if it put your heart into a spiral. 

Lost in thought, you found your way to his chambers, freely disobeying his orders

He lounged in a clawfoot bath. Stuffy heat lulled you into a daze, something like a carefree summer evening wherein the sun took too long to vanish. Though when he noticed you approach, shedding clothes the entire way, the heat grew near unbearable.

Miguel's claws creaked against the enamel in anticipation when you stepped into the water. You watched him with the same delicate intrigue as prey investigating something that could be a threat as you found your place between his spread legs, getting close enough to feel the pounding of his undead heart. You'd only seen his body in dim candlelight or withering rays of the moon, never truly illuminated by the glow of floating chandeliers nor the collection of sconces arching from the wall.

Slowly, your fingertips dragged along muscle, warm and firm under your calloused touch. The scars littering your hands and knuckles shone so stark against his perfect complexion. He really did seem too perfect. It would have sparked jealousy in your gut if he didn't apparently belong to you, and you to him. No one else got to touch. No one else got to see. 

Now, you were built finely yourself, but the man before you was something entirely different. You didn't know if it was thanks to his supernatural existence, but his body was built in a near-animalistic way that screamed power and speed, not similar enough to a human. Though, looking back, you did always think his manners in bed were more beast than man. The growling, the clawing, the marks of claim on the nape of your neck, it all clicked and made sense in the whirlwind of your mind. 

“I think a werewolf would suit you better,” you admitted. “What with the claws and biting and general uncouth behaviour.” 

Miguel huffed. “You must be talking about yourself.” His voice rang low and quiet, too aware he might scare off his prized hare if he put too much into his words. “You're the one acting like a rabid animal.” 

“No, you.” 

“Don't think so.” 

“You're difficult.” 

“You're one to talk.” 

“How long have you been like this?” Your fingers combed through his hair, and his eyes fluttered shut. “A vampire. Or whatever you are.” 

“Lost track,” he said, sounding too honest. “I have records. Notes. From experiments. The dates on those are close to when it happened.” Experiments? Colour you intrigued.

“So you weren't exactly practicing white medicine?” You tilted your head in thought. “You were doing something more–” 

“It wasn't black magic,” Miguel scoffed. “It was science. Genetics. Studying how other organisms function, learning about them.” His expression darkened just the slightest bit. “Trying to…recreate them.” 

Your head spun a little trying to fill in the blanks. It wasn’t too hard, but it was hard to accept as reality. But if anyone were to unlock the damned secrets of immortality, of course it'd be this man. This cocky, genius, charming man. God really did have favourites, though they always did seem to disappoint him.

“I see. So you're telling me you're a genius who rebirthed vampires,” you summed up, letting your hands melt down his body, below the water's surface. “How is it you only get more and more impressive, Mr.O'hara?” 

A smug smirk bloomed across his lips. “It's just in my nature.” His head tilted back with a pleased sigh when your touch finally landed on that annoying thing prodding your thigh. “I have no choice but to succeed.” 

“Tch. Americans are so arrogant.” You hummed and leaned in, ghosting kisses along his vulnerable neck while your hand pleased him slowly, teasingly. His talons screeched against the tub again. “But maybe you have reason to be, hm? Given how accomplished you are.” 

A dark, scarlet haze like the sky of the blood moon illuminated Miguel's eyes in the few moments they slipped open to catch a glimpse of you. You wondered if he needed a reality check. Maybe he thought he was hallucinating, maybe he thought that you weren't really there despite being pressed up against him and murmuring useless quips into his skin. You'd be sure to leave an impression on him; your hand quickened, gripping tighter and pulling the way he directed you to far too many years ago, but his barbed hand caught your wrist. 

“Stop,” he gasped. His chest rose and fell with his light panting as he stared you down. Want radiated off of him like an animal starved. You knew what was rattling around in his mind before he even spoke. 

“You want to fuck me, is that it?” 

Miguel's breath hitched. 

–

You made him ravenous. You were the only thing he wanted to feast on, delicacies and sanguine temptations be damned. 

One of his large hands held your waist in a death grip while his other hand held your head down, forcing your incoherent ramblings into the soft, silken sheets as he rammed you from behind like a beast in heat. You took it well, too, not that you hadn't before–he always held back, appeared to you as human when he fucked you previously. But now that you knew the truth, now that you knew what lay hidden in the dark nooks of his bones’ marrow, he felt complete. And that meant he could completely lay claim to you, too. 

He matched the curve of your back with his chest when he leaned over you, burying his nose into your neck and shoulder to indulge in your scent. Your vampire's desire to breed slowed and steadied into deep, thoughtful rolls of his hips. Perhaps his mind had caught up with him and ushered him to slow down, to abandon some of that reckless excitement. 

Miguel heard the slightest mumble of his name on your lips and leaned down further to touch his own to your cheekbone. One arm looped underneath your throat in a benign chokehold of sorts, while his other hand threaded through your hair–if he wasn't fucking you like an animal before, this makeshift mating lock he had on you sealed the deal. 

“You feel good,” Miguel murmured, voice tickling the shell of your ear. 

“Hah. I, ah, always feel good,” you tried to quip back, but your expression betrayed the fraying threads of whatever self-control you still desperately clung to. “You’re, uh…unhinged, hey?” Miguel scoffed. “Like a…a wild beast.” 

“Oh?” A purr hummed through his chest, piercing your body and rattling through your own lungs in seismic pulses. “A wild beast? Flattering.”

“Really, darling, you don't have to be such a sarcastic asshole when you're–” a hard snap of his hips sent you spiraling for a moment, “--in my ass.” 

“Maybe you should watch your mouth,” he suggested. 

“Maybe you could watch it for me,” you countered. 

The warmth of his laugh sent chills scattering across your skin. He pulled out of you and turned you over, dragging your hips back against him before his powerful body engulfed yours again. Miguel liked this more. He liked the feeling of your hands grabbing and clawing at him, the way your thighs attached to his waist, how you bit your bottom lip while your eyes screwed shut from the overwhelming feeling of your partner destroying you.

And of course, his lips could meet yours like this. The sweet tang of copper and berries, a taste so familiar and so you, was shared between tongues, kept secret in the crevices of teeth. It amazed Miguel how much one little kiss could push him over the edge and make the bed creak and groan with you as he loved on you and made sure to send the message straight to your core. 

Your hands fisted in his hair when you came undone. That lovely voice of yours poured into Miguel's eager mouth, and you tightened, pulling him to the edge and pushing him over with the might of a wild stampede. Claws nipped your skin, fangs pierced deeper, yet his rutting hit deepest, and burned you alive with unbearable, liquid heat.

–

“Why me?” You asked into the stillness of the room. 

Calm silence answered you for a long moment. The sun bloomed beyond the thick curtains, you noticed in your wait, and you wondered if you would ever miss the sight. England never truly had bright, sunny days from what you recalled; stretches of smokey, grey overcast clouded the skies and your memories more often than not. Could your vampire walk amongst the living like this?

Miguel sighed, leaning into the hand carding through his hair. “Figured you’d understand.” 

“I’d understand what?”

“Killing to survive.” 

“How long have you known?” You wondered, unsurprised. 

“Blood tells stories,” he whispered. Long, dark eyelashes fluttered a moment before crimson eyes peered open the slightest bit. “Your story’s long. Complicated. You’re too young for it.” 

A smile twitched onto your face. You adjusted in the bed, getting more comfortable on your side in those pooling, satin sheets. “So you thought I’d be an easy target for sex, then? Desperate and young as I was.”

He found your eyes, his gaze earnest and bleeding. “I–you–fine, at first it was like you said. Maybe. But after enough time, I decided you weren’t like the rest. You’re as supernatural as I am.”

“Supernaturally handsome? I agree.”

“Stop.”

“You didn’t think I’d be afraid of you.”

“I’d hoped as much.” 

“And you still didn’t tell me.” Your fingertips danced along the arch of his cheekbone, leaving pleasant sparks against his skin in their wake, unbeknownst to you. “Were you scared?”

“I’d rather have you as a man for whatever time we had together than to lose you to a beast,” he explained, cryptic as one would expect an old legend to be. “I’ve lost too much already because of…this. Because of me. I didn���t want to lose more.” Miguel’s dark brows furrowed. “If you ended up fearing me to, I–”

You silenced him with a hand over his mouth. “Enough. I understand.” You palm smoothed back up to cup his face. “You needn’t be afraid of me–well, being afraid, I suppose. I’ll stay.” You took a deep breath and leaned in, pressing your forehead to his. “This bed’s too comfortable to give up, after all.”

His breath fanned against your skin as he chuckled, tired and perhaps tinted with disbelief. “Well, you can stay here as long as you want.”

“Brilliant. Would you even let me drink your blood?”

The rumble of a growl, or perhaps a purr, rolled through his chest into yours. You searched his eyes, wondering, hoping, and found mere slices of ruby peeking out from behind eclipsing pupils. 

“We’ll see.”

[grahamkennedy]

this might sound kinda stupid, but following your blog has genuinely had a huge imapct on the way i think about us-centrism online. Im australian too, and after reading your posts I began to notice that I avoid using regional words or talking about moveis/tv/music that i thought american people wouldn't know about. but why should i have to?! its such a simple realisation, but it was pretty powerful to me! you know, i have to learn about 1001 specific american brand names to understand half the jokes on here, but i feel embarrassed talking about idk.. netball?? the impulse to explain any australian specific experience that i mention so that the usamericans can understand it is so annoying! why do i feel the need to have to do that?? I've been trying to get over my cultural cringe surrounding australian art and literature for a while, but i sort of didnt realise how deeply it was ingrained for simple, everyday stuff. its also made me really quite angry too. because in many ways australia IS so similar to the us. yet so many people in the notes of posts about australia are just so deeply apathetic about learning (or even just being respectful of) any sort of cutural differences. needless to say, this often ends up leading to people spouting very colonialist ideas and just being very plainly and obviously racist against indigenous people. but the gleeful ingorance about any country other than than the us is staggering. everyone online has to have an in depth knowledge about us politics, but no one can make a post about the politics of their own country without being forced to dumb it down so that an american audience with no prior knowledge can understand it. sorry for the rant! i wasnt planning on writing this much (or getting this annoyed) but it kind of got away from me! anyway, i love your blog lol <3

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK

I've been thinking of how to reply but the problem is I'm kind of stupid so I didn't know how.

I first started getting super annoyed by this when I got into The Newsreader. It was something I thought 'this has so many themes and ideas and characters that people would so be into' but then as it gained popularity, people, mostly American, got really weird about it. I got an ask that I was very nice about at the time but retroactively pissed me off, being like "well its about Australian history, can an American still watch it???". I noticed similar attitudes popping up, and getting more popular from Sam Reid fans who came over from IWTV.

I think as people who live with USCentrism every day, we still shouldn't get complacent and limit ourselves to Western world views, especially white ones. We need to broaden our horizons as well and also understand the place we have in Western imperialism.

But I'm glad more people are actually starting to understand how prevalent USCentrism is and I'm more than happy to be part of the conversation.

Thaaaaaankkkkk u for this ask.