#next month!! the ten thousand years will be over!!

[sualne]

the wait will be over soon

[kookslastbutton]

in your arms ༓ jjk (m)

✑ Summary: You wake up next to your boyfriend for the first time since moving in with him.

Pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x girlfriend!reader

AU/Genres: pwp, smut, fluff, established relationship, one shot

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 1,680

Warnings: cussing, jk teasing oc, soft pouty jk, of is restless sleeper which makes jk lowkey sad, sexual content

sexual warnings: dom!jungkook, sub!reader, morning s*x, kind of rough s*x, unprotected s*x (Don't be like them!) , d*try talk, m*ssionary, b*gging, b**b kink?, sl*t calling once (tame)

Now Playing: A Thousand Years

A/N: needed dometic koo after listening to piano guys play thousand years. I have not seen Twilight but I like the sound track lol. Hope you enjoy! 💞

"You snore." Is the first thing he says to you, eyeing you from the other side of the bed. He's downright adorable with half his face tucked behind the fluffy comforter.

"I do?" You roll on your side. The soft linen brushing against your skin reminds you of your bare state. Last night was the first time you spent the night at Jungook's since moving in. He was a little eager to get you in his bed to say the least.

Jungkook nods in response, eyes still barely peaking out from the covers.

"But...I don't." You smile sheepishly. Many things you're known for doing in bed but snoring was not one of them. You're sure of it. "I definitely don't," you repeat in disbelief. "You're being a little shit again aren't you?"

A grin slowly spreads on your boyfriend's face—his eyes revealing all. What a menace as always. His playful spirit makes you giggle.

"Did you sleep okay?" You yawn and rub your tired eyes.

Jungkook shimmies himself closer to you. His nose is inches away from your the nape of your neck. "No," he says. "You were so far away from me the whole night."

The comforter he was tugging on earlier is now folded under his arm. From this angle, you can trace every muscle on his inked arm, so you do, with the tips of your fingers. "I'm sorry koo, I'm such a restless sleeper. I didn't kick you did I?"

Since a child you've never been able to sleep in one position. You were always starfishing, flopping from side to side, or genuinely just in the twistiest pretzel-like positions possible. Now and then you'd punch or knee at the bed too, depending how vivid the dream you were having was. That's why for the majority of your life you've slept alone.

Jungkook on the otherhand could sleep anywhere in the same position. All he needed was a good grip on his blankets or in this case, you, and he'd fall fast alseep until the morning. But you were not an easy one to snuggle with, causing him to pout until all hours of the night.

"I'm okay, but can we try cuddling or spooning again tonight? Wanna fall asleep with the girl of my dreams in my arms." Your heart does about ten somersaults. Ever since you hit 6 months, Jungkook's been begging you to move in with him and now that you've finally agreed, he's been coordinating your new living conditions down to the last detail.

He's also stopped refering to the apartment as his—it's now our apartment, our haven, our home.

You remove your hand from his arm to fluff through his messy hair. Something about the silky texture makes you unable to stop yourself. Jungkook likes it too. "Of course we can." Your face drops a few shades. "But I'm not sure if it'll be any different from last night. I might hurt you."

In that very moment your boyfriend props himself up on an elbow and leans himself over your body just enough for you to fall on your back. "No you won't," he insists. The same inked arm curls around your waist, pushing your chests together. "I'll hold ya down this time."

Your cheeks warm up from the gesture.

"What's got you blushing doll?"

"Just that you're everything I was hoping for and more." You wrap both arms around his neck, his lips ghosting over yours. "I love you so much." It's hardly a whisper but Jungkook has no trouble hearing.

"You know I was thinking similar," he says, placing a light kiss to the side of your neck. You hum. This will likely be a regular occurrence now that it's Jungkook you'll be waking up to every morning. His affection knows no bounds.

"You're all mine," he continues, tracing circles on your waist with his thumb. Even with the blankets shielding your naked body from his, you feel every imprint of his touch. "I'm all yours, too. And even if you do end up kicking me in your sleep, I'll alway be back for more because I'm in love with you....just try not to kick my dick though, that would kinda be a bummer for both of us." He shoots a quick wink and you snort.

"Sorry," you cover part of your face. "That was so ugly of me." Jungkook's heard you snort a thousand times but you've still a little self conscious about it.

"Its cute."

"Stop, you dont have to say that."

"It's cute because I like making you laugh and seeing you happy make—"

"Makes you horny." You finish the sentence, cackling at his suddenly doe-eyed expression. "I can feel your erection on my thigh Kook."

"Oh," he looks down at himself. Did he think he was being smooth and all trying to hide it and all? You're boyfriend's cute but a good liar he is not. "Well can I stick it in or not?" He looks at you again, expectanty.

"Kook!" You just had sex last night and to be honest you're a little sore from it as well as flopping around in your sleep all night.

Jungkook however is imposible to refuse with his pouty lips and big, ferocious eyes. He simultaneously wants to cuddle you to death and fuck you silly every second of the day. You ask him which he wants to do, he will always want both....at least twice in one go.

"I'll make it quick, promise. And it'll feel good too."

Once you give the okay Jungkook climbs on top of you from under the sheets. You spread your thighs, allowing him to slip in—which he easily does given the fact that he wasn't the only one all worked up.

"Fuck," he breaths above you, hands gripping the mattress on either side of your head. "Such a perfect pussy you know that? Always so wet for me."

"Yes Kook," you let out a small whine. Jungkook's dick always makes you so full so fast. "Fuck me."

"You want it huh?" He teases even though it's him who started this. "You want my big cock to stretch your tiny pussy? Make you scream? Say you want it baby. Need to hear it from you."

You concede to your boyfriend and tell him how much you want it. "Mhm please, need your cock Kook. Want it so bad, want it to make me come, please."

"Greedy little thing aren't you," he seethes, thrusting into you at a slow pace. "Just got fucked three times last night and still want more. What does that make you hm?"

"A slut." Jungkook growls when the words leave your lips. He ends up fucking into you faster, loving the sight of your breasts bounce up and down at the quickened pace. You move to grip onto both boobs but he growls again, letting you know his obvious disapproval.

"Wrap your legs around my waist," he grunts. "And don't you dare think about covering yourself up. Wanna see every bit of you."

You do as he says and he sinks further in you, cock finding that sweet spot at the same time. "Fuckfuckfuck," he chants. "So needy aren't you? Swallowing my cock like it's nothing for your pussy. Who taught you how to take cock this well huh?"

"Jungkook!" You scream when you feel the knot get stronger in the pit of your stomach. You boyfriend smirks and starts kissing up and down your neck.

"Say it again. Who taught you to take cock this well?"

"You—you Jungkook, you did. Please, gonna come soon." You claw his muscular back, knowing your high is about to come swift and fast. You hope to god he lets you come too. Last night he made you wait and wait. You had to keep begging him until he was fully satisfied. You squirted a lot and it was hot but you can't do that again so soon.

"Come for me baby," he coos. "Show me what I taught you back when all you knew how to do was give head. Gonna soak my cock now aren't you? I'm already so wet from your slick, fuck."

"Jungkook—oh god," you moan one last time before finally releasing. Your boyfriend let's out a deep, breathy groan and continues to thrust into for the sake of his own high. "Kook, please, please tell me you're close. It's almost too much."

"Shit just hold tight for me a little longer baby, I'm so close." He fucks into a few more times then spills himself into your warm cunt. You both bask in post-orgasmic blish until your boyfriend leans his head down to capture your lips. It's a bit of a sloppy kiss but still fiery and passionate.

He slips off you after a minute or two of making out, hair sticking to his forehead. "I'm so glad you said yes to moving in."

"What? You just want me here for the sex?" You pant, playful glimmer in your eye.

Jungkook shakes his head. "Of course not." You move to rest your head on his shoulder. "The sarcasm's nice too."

You roll your eyes. You'll be doing this all over again tonight. Maybe he'll be able to keep you in his arms tonight this time—you truly hope.

A/N: thanks for reading! Lmk your thoughts 💞

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[should-be-sleeping]

Tough day today... and friendly reminder that being human is easier when we help each other.

I saw one of our neighbors, an older woman we sometimes talk to in passing, sitting outside of her house. I don't know what exactly made me look twice, but on second glance as we drove by I realized her walker was in the grass. She was otherwise just sitting there, like she had a thousand times before, so it would have been easy to assume she was fine and go on with my life as normal but something told me to go check in on her anyway.

She was not fine. She was the polar opposite of fine. Just diagnosed with terminal cancer not fine. No next of kin not fine. A veteran facing eviction from her house for missing rent while in the hospital not fine. In constant debilitating pain not fine. Only semi-lucid not fine. She was extremely alone not fine.

I thought, at most, she might be bored while unable to pick up her walker not fine. A five minute detour from my day not fine. A help her back into her house and say "see you later!" not fine. Instead I spent the last three hours with her because she was so scared and alone and no one should be alone.

We talked a lot while I was there. She's actually two years younger than my mom (who also has cancer but slightly better luck, I guess). I helped her into her house and got her a drink and we talked about what all is going on with her. None of it was good. I was as reassuring as I could be, but there's only so much of this I can actually help her with.

"Why did you come?" she asked through tears.

"Because you looked like you might need some help."

She called me an angel. I told her I was just doing my best. I told her that kindness should never be rare. That we should all try to make the world just a little bit better than it was.

She offered to pay me but I told her I was just there as a friend. Before today we were basically strangers. No need to repay me with anything other than her company, I assured her. She cried, a lot. I managed not to somehow. Something tells me she had needed to cry long before this but in being Strong she never had the chance to.

She needed to get her mail, which is a long walk when you're disabled because it is not at all handicap accessible (across a parking lot, over a bridge, across a small field). So I helped her get her mail. We stopped every three feet because her pain was so bad, but she was determined to be able to go do this with me and not just send me on an errand. I patiently stayed with her and reminded her, through her apologies, it was fine to take our time: there was a nice breeze and birds were singing. She appreciated this. She loves nature.

Halfway back she said she wanted to go to the pool. To put her feet in the water. She loves water, and has not been able to even see the pool in a month. Neither of us were dressed for swimming, but I took her to the pool anyway. There is a stair leading down to it, meaning she couldn't bring her walker, so I offered her my arm.

We went to the pool. She put her feet in the water and then, with more energy and enthusiasm than I'd seen the whole time, she jumped in. In her fancy dress! She was instantly ten years younger at least, clear and happy, floating in the sun. Dress and all. She grew up with a pool and had been on a swim team.

I sat by the edge of the pool while she swam, keeping her company and also making sure she was okay. When she got tired I took her back home and then had to help her get undressed and redressed. I made sure she felt no shame. Getting out of wet clothes is hard for anyone, let alone someone with like twenty pounds of tumors racking them with constant pain.

She was so fucking happy to have gone swimming.

She is trying to "make everything right" before she goes. Trying to repay her debt to society and her debts in general. She couldn't understand why the corporation that owns our houses wouldn't take her money. She was genuinely distressed -- not to be homeless on her deathbed but to not leave this world with a clean slate. I told her intent matters. She can only do her best.

This company not letting her repay her debt was their fault, not hers.

When I finally needed to go, I told her to let me know any time she needed a hand or just wanted company. She told me she was going to die tonight. I told her I hoped not, so I could see her tomorrow. I offered her a hug, we hugged and she sobbed for a solid ten minutes into my shoulder. I told her she was okay. That it was okay.

When I got home I cried myself, because I could not believe she was going through all of that alone. I cannot even imagine how isolated she must have felt. Once I pulled myself back together I sent her a text reminding her to reach out any time and I'd do my best to come over. Like, any time at all.

I hope she is here tomorrow.

[reiderwriter]

could you write a fic with a fem reader where spencer’s going through withdrawal and he’s being like snappy and stuff when she’s just trying to help? idk if that makes sense?

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I'm sorry it took me so long ㅠㅠ I hope this is everything you were looking for!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid × GN! reader

Warnings: mentions of drug use, mentions of addiction in the family, and spoilers for Season 2 of Criminal Minds.

You can check out my masterlist here!

In comparison with the other members of the BAU, you had the most experience with recovery. So you knew that it wasn't easy. Spencer Reid didn't. 

The moment you'd noticed him stepping out on the team, spending more time isolated and with a shorter temper, you knew. Tobias Hankel had only tortured Spencer for a day, but he was still inside him even months later. 

The day you realised he was using, you moved yourself into his apartment. 

“Hi,” you said as he opened the doors, bleary-eyed from whatever hit he just dealt himself. “My apartment flooded, and I had nowhere else to go.” 

Spencer Reid would always help others before he helped himself. It took a few more hours to broach the discussion of the drugs, but when you did get him to give in, you could feel the weight flowing off his shoulders. 

“I can't get his face out of my mind. The drugs, they help. And I know they're not really helping, but it's like I'm not strong enough to care.” He'd broken down into tears, placed his supply on the tables in front of you  and picked open the wound that had never fully healed properly. 

Step one to recovery was accepting you needed help. Step two was harder. 

Slowly decreasing his intake until he was free of the drug. Watching him for any negative reactions in the field and at home, dealing with the underlying trauma. 

You had to talk to Hotch about it, of course. But he knew about your father, and to a certain extent, you knew about his. A single shared look was enough for you both to agree that Spencer needed everyone's support. 

So you dropped him off at his meetings. You picked him up afterwards. You watched him in the field for any mention of addiction and drug-related psychosis that could lead him down a dark path of what ifs. 

You held his hand. You kissed his head. You were there. 

Even when he tried to show you he didn't deserve it. 

“Spencer,” you'd started the conversation trying to get his attention, knowing from the far away look that he was missing the numbness that came with the high. 

“Spencer, you look tense. Are you okay?” He'd whipped his head around at the words, a scowl on his face. 

“You don't need to hover over me like I'm a child, Y/N.” 

“I want to know that you're okay.” You said back, pouring yourself a glass of water to calm yourself again. Sometimes, Spencer made every little question an attack, and you had to learn to dodge the blows.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I want to take care of you.” Your calm reply had him angrier though, as he snorted with a single reply. 

“Like you took care of your dad? That worked out so well, didn't it.” 

Ten years and any mention of the man who had raised you still had you freezing in shock. You almost didn't notice when your glass tumbled to the ground, to be smashed into a thousand tiny pieces.

It was almost as if the crash woke Spencer up from his stupor, his gaze growing regretful as he stood and approached you quickly. 

With a hand and a shake of a head, you stopped him, though.

“Let me clear the large pieces on my own. I don't want you to get hurt.” Kneeling, you did just that, picking out recognisable edges and sides and transporting them carefully into the trash. 

“I'm not going to sit here and let you do all the work, Y/N. I'm… I'm sorry.” His voice whispered those last few words as he kneeled next to you  sweeping the glass up, careful not to cut himself on it. 

You wiped the tears from your eyes as both of you worked busily, letting your argument hang in the air between you.

“I know you're sorry, Spencer,” you whispered as the two of you worked, still not brave enough to look him in the eyes. “My dad was, too. He never meant it, though.” 

“I mean it.” He stopped moving, and you finally looked up to his eyes, to the life there that sparked, that had been buried by Tobias Hankel. Motivation. 

With the glass cleared, he stood, reaching out a hand to you to help you up. You took it, letting him assist you. He didn't let go after, though. Not immediately. 

He stepped closer, and you relaxed into his chest, resting an ear over his heart. It was still beating, and that was what mattered. 

“I can't fix you, Spencer. I can't make this better. I can't do that for you, because you have to do it for yourself. That's what my dad never understood.” Your voice was barely audible, but you knew he could hear and knew he was listening. 

“I can't reverse what he did to you. But I promise, I will be here to remind you that you are a good man. To remind you of what you are like when you're you  how much I love you, how much we all love you.”

“I'll stand next to you and look into that mirror every morning and tell you what I see. A good man on the bad days, the same man on the good days. I don't want to fix you, Spencer. I want to love you, and I want you to accept that you're worth it.”

His head rested on top of yours, and you could feel his small wrecks of tears as he sniffled. Inhaling your scent, he could've spent the night wrapped in your arms like that.

“Thank you. For saying that. For being here. I know it's not easy.” 

“It's not. But you're worth it.” Clinging to him, you let the moments tick by, never releasing him from your warm embrace. 

[vivwritesfics]

Keep on Rolling - MV1

Chapter Five

Summary: Lando's best friend having feelings for anyone on the grid? Impossible, right? She worked with them, sharing her friendship with the grid with the world via the FormulaY/N youtube channel.

After film a video including... spicy water (alcohol), everything changes between her and a certain world champion. Good thing she hasn't had a crush on him since his F1 debut, right?

Right?

1.3K words

Promised QandA in next part

Series Masterlist

"Hey man," Lando said to Max one evening at dinner. It was drivers only, simply because Y/N was too busy working. Everybody wanted her there, but she couldn't spare the time.

Max looked at Lando with a polite smile, too busy eating to say anything.

"You let Y/N interview you?"

He nodded his head, still eating.

"Oh. Well, the rest of us ran away. We didn't trust it not to be a prank," Lando continued. "Why didn't you?"

Max stopped eating to look at him. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"What? No. I just want to know what you're doing with my best friend," answered Lando. This was starting to piss him off. "I don't care what you do, as long as you don't do anything to hurt her."

Max simply scoffed. He didn't have any intentions with Y/N. Whatever happened, happened. If that took them down the romantic route, so be it.

"Don't worry," he said, returning his attention to his food. "I don't plan on hurting her." He ate ignoring Lando and every other driver sat around the table. There was a good few minutes where Lando stared at him, something like disgust written on his face. He didn't mean to be pulling such a face, but he couldn't help it when it came to Y/N

***

Y/N's eyes hurt as she stared at the emails on her screen. "What the fuck," she whispered, pinching the bridge of her nose. It was seeming more and more impossible to find a moment of peace for her.

You need to look at this and give a statement, ASAP, the email said. This is the second time this has happened in the space of a month. How does this keep happening? You need to watch yourself to make sure it doesn't happen again

She read the email a couple of times over before clicking the link.

It was an Instagram post that had gone viral within the F1 community. Pictures of her with the drivers, hidden away in hotel rooms. Moments that nobody but Y/N and the drivers involved should have pictures of.

Her having dinner in Lando's apartment, Y/N and Charles walking through the hallway of a hotel together. There was one occasion where she, Lando and Carlos had snuck up to the roof of the hotel. Somehow that picture was in the post.

The worst one, though? There was a picture of Y/N and Max laying together. It must have been after the drunken quiz video, after they had fallen asleep against each other. It was such an intimate moment, a moment meant for the two of them and nobody else.

They were pictures nobody should have had. Who had taken them? Where had they come from? How did this account have them?

But then Y/N scrolled down to the comments

Username: omg she's such a whore

Username: You'd think this years championship would be interesting since she's sleeping with the whole grid

Username: I've never liked her

Username: She ruined Lando

Username: yeah I liked Carlando better before it involved her

They just went on and on like that. Thousands of them. For every supportive comment, there seemed to be two negative ones. It was horrible. How was she supposed to put out a statement about it.

So, she pulled out her phone and did the only thing she knew to do.

Ten minute later, there was a knock at her door. Y/N wiped her tears and ran to pull it open. "Oh thank god," she said through a sob and wrapped her arms around him.

Lando walked her further into the room and pushed the door shut behind him. “Tell me what happened,” he said and sat her down on her bed. He sat beside her and Y/N instantly placed her head on his shoulder.

"People are horrible," she sniffed as she pulled up the Instagram account.

Taking her phone from her hand, Lando scrolled through the pictures before getting to the comments. As he read them, his grip on Y/N was tight, growing tighter with every horrible comment.

"I've never seen these before," said Lando as he scrolled back up to the pictures. From the way they were taken, they couldn't have been fan pictures - they must have come from someone right there with them.

Lando pressed his finger against the power button and dropped Y/N's phone into his lap. He pulled her close, running his fingers through her hair. "Don't worry, we'll get to the bottom of this."

There was nothing they could do that night. So Y/N locked the door, double checked the lock and then pushed her bedside table up against it.

Y/N and Lando fell asleep together, spread out across the bed. They'd fallen asleep together several times before. They'd been doing it since they were kids, sharing a bed on sleepovers. It was a habit that hadn't died and had only taken breaks when either of them were dating.

"Promise everything is going to be okay?" Y/N muttered in her sleep as she rolled towards the door.

Lando's answer was a snore.

***

Max was used to his phone blowing up over night. He was a world famous Formula One driver, it was bound to happen. But, when he scrolled through his notifications this time, everything was different.

Pictures, none of which he had seen before. He was in some, but the one thing every picture had in common was Y/N. Max ignored all the pictures that didn't have him in the, all the pictures but the last one. The one of him in bed with her/

Nobody had been in the room with them, Max had made sure of it.

His phone vibrated in his hand. But it wasn't who Max hoped it would be. It wasn't the girl he had been pictured with. It was his father. Jos Verstappen. Just the man Max didn't want to be speaking to.

He swiped his finger across the screen and pressed his phone to his ear.

Have you ever been berated by an angry Dutchman almost to the point of tears. Max had. He'd been berated by his father so many times before. Even now, as a twenty five year old, it still stung just as much as it had when he was a child.

Jos ran through the list of all of the news article headlines he had read that morning. All of them about his son and the youtuber that had been following the grid around like a lost dog.

As much as Max wanted to defend her, Jos didn't give him the chance. He sat there in silence as his dad shouted at him down the phone. When Jos finally hung up, Max let out a sigh.

Suddenly there was a knock at his hotel room door. Now in a foul mood, Max stood and opened up the door.

"Hey," he said, letting his visitor in.

The visitor said nothing and walked into his room. "You need to stay away from Y/N."

Max stared at Lando. He said nothing, just stared, so Lando continued. "Stay away from her. Stop falling asleep with her, stop going near her. She doesn't need you to fuck up her life."

Max sat himself back on his bed and patted his thighs in a repetitive pattern. He'd just gotten enough of this from his father, he didn't need this from Lando, too. "What gives you the right?" he asked. "Why can't she make her own decisions?"

"She doesn't know what she wants," Lando spat.

Max shook his head. "I think you're wrong," he said. "I think she knows what she wants and you're unwilling to listen to her."

Suddenly Lando was very close to him, getting in his face. "Stay the fuck away from her," he growled and marched out of the room.

Taglist (Open): @sticksdoesart @eviethetheatrefreak @eugene-emt-roe @glai1023-blog @mqcherie @itsjustkhaos @chonkybonky @arian-directioner @lazybot @lpab @princessria127 @fangirl125reader @honethatty12 @larastark3107 @urfavouritef1girly @cassiopeiia24 @callsign-scully @lexiecamposv @dl-yum @savagecelery @laneyspaulding19 @formulas-bitch @teenwolf01

[dfortrafalgar]

Special Delivery

(Sanji x Fem!Reader)

Red-Leg Zeff wakes up to surprising visitors.

You can read Part 1 here! Original AO3 link

Days on the open ocean were long and monotonous.  It was a decent struggle to keep track of the sunrises and sunsets, but Red-Leg Zeff had developed a system, very recently at that.

Next to a parchment letter and three photographs he nailed to the wall of his captain’s quarters, he tacked up a separate piece of paper and made a tally mark for each day that passed since he received the small parcel.  Each day that went by was another day of inwardly hoping to see the image of the Thousand Sunny off the deck of the Baratie.  It was wishful thinking, and Zeff was a level-headed man, not one for futile hopes or daydreaming, but could you blame him?  He had a grandchild and a daughter-in-law, all things considered, anyway.

The three photographs that Sanji had sent in the package were what greeted him every time he awoke, and were the last images he saw behind his eyelids as he shut in for sleep.  As the days turned into weeks, and then months, and now well over a year according to his tallies, and as Zeff’s braided facial hair continued to slowly turn gray at the roots, the pictures stayed the same.

Like clockwork, Zeff rose from his stiff mattress before the sun rose in the morning, stretching his aging muscles and groaning.  He gazed off across the room at the photos hung on his wall.

“Good morning, Sa–”

“CAPTAIN ZEFF, YOU’RE NEEDED ON THE BOW.”

Patty’s booming voice outside the thin wooden door sent a startled shockwave through Zeff.  He jumped and yelped at the commotion.  Followed by the command, a pounding on the door caused the blonde man to grumble and stomp across his small cabin towards the noise.  He swung open the door, right before Patty threw his fist into the wood for the hundredth time.

“What in the fresh hell do you want?  You’re gonna wake up the whole crew, you oaf.”  Zeff rubbed two calloused fingertips against the bridge of his wrinkled nose.

Eagerly, with a light in his eyes, Patty waved a hand in the direction of the ship’s bow.  “There’s a large vessel spotted approaching from northwest, about ten miles away.  It looks like a pirate ship but we couldn’t make out the image on the sail.”

Zeff stepped into his one boot and rolled up his pants around his peg-leg, making it easier for him to walk.  He firmly gripped his chef’s cap in his hand as he marched past Patty and closed his door behind the two of them, leading him out to the front of the Baratie.  It took them a few moments to roam down the flights of stairs to the lower deck and dining hall, and upon opening the large double doors to the outer deck, he spotted his kitchen crew huddled around Carne, who firmly gripped a pair of binoculars in his large hands.

“What are you all doing?” Zeff’s voice boomed over the hushed whispers of the kitchen staff, who quickly turned their heads to address their captain.  He pushed past the men and placed a firm hand on Carne’s shoulder, yanking him back slightly and grabbing the binoculars out of his hands, holding them up to his own eyes.

“It’s definitely a pirate ship, Captain, but my eyes are shot,” Carne eagerly noted.  Zeff merely grumbled in response.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the binocular lenses, but when they did he managed to make out a fairly clear picture of a ship in the distance, now well less than ten miles away and approaching quite rapidly.  Definitely a large pirate ship.  It had a very odd looking nautical figurehead, almost like a sunflower he assumed, but his heart leaped into his throat when his blurry eyes focused on the primary sail which flowed outward, fully unraveled and pushing the vessel towards the Baratie.

A simple Jolly Roger, a rudimentary skull and crossbones design, with a peculiar red-banded straw hat placed on the head of the skull.

“Should we man the–” Patty began to ask, before being cut off by Zeff.

“It’s the Straw Hats.  Prepare the mooring ropes and fenders, they’re going to tie up to us.”  Zeff shoved the binoculars back into the chest and hands of Carne, who once again put them to his face and gazed at the sail of the ship.  The rest of the kitchen staff ran to awaken the boat crew and make the necessary preparations for a vessel connection.  

“Sanji?” Patty simply asked, with sudden wonder in his voice.

“Hopefully,” Carne responded, passing the binoculars to his coworker.  “It’s definitely them.  Look at their Jolly Roger.”

Zeff had turned his back to his two right-hand men to help the others prepare the baratie’s starboard side for the tie-up.  Crew men, freshly shaken awake from their slumbers, bustled around the lower deck tossing heavy, tightly coiled ropes to each other, tying them around the deck’s bollards and laying them down to make them easier to access when the Thousand Sunny would pull up alongside.  Zeff quickly found that there wasn’t much for him to do, the sight of his crew excitedly scurrying around as the news of the Straw Hats’ return to the Baratie spread like wildfire from the mouths of the men bringing a fond smile to the old man’s face.

Now within enough distance to the Straw Hats’ ship that they could hear the excited yelling of their captain perched cross-legged on the top of the figurehead, waving his hand in the air.  A few of the other crew members leaned over the side of the ship, excitedly waving to the Baratie crew.  Once close enough, a large, strangely built blue-haired man launched a heavy rope from the deck of the Sunny downwards towards the Baratie’s crew, who grabbed it and began to pull it taught.  An orange-haired woman (Zeff thought she looked familiar) instructed the sails to be furled while the larger men of the ship helped the Baratie’s sailors moor the two vessels together.  A few stragglers from the floating restaurants crew looked through their portholes at the commotion.  Carne and Patty assisted the blue-haired man (were his arms made of metal?) in raising a gangway for the Straw Hats to board the Baratie, but their captain, still donned in the same straw hat that he wore when they first visited the luxury cruiser, wasted no time in launching himself off of the figurehead and landing with a hard thud on the wooden deck.

“Hey, Geezer!”  His smile almost covered his entire face.  “Do you have any food?”

“Luffy, seriously?  Can you not wait a single minute?”

A familiar voice caused Zeff to turn his head.  Through the hustle of the crews finishing their mooring duties, a head of bright blonde hair and a thin trail of gray smoke met the old chef’s view.  He immediately broke out into a fond smile.  Sanji was leaning precariously over the side of the Sunny, any more and he would tip over the side, a large grin on his face.  Next to him was a young woman, a bit shorter than him, with a steady hand placed on his shoulder ensuring that he didn’t fall overboard.  She gazed down at Zeff, and her face broke into a grin just as large as Sanji’s.

He recognized her as the woman in the photographs.  She was just as beautiful in person.

The gangway was successfully tied, joining the two boats together, and the two first mates excitedly welcomed the Straw Hats aboard the Baratie.  The four who had already visited almost five years prior marveled at the impressive renovations done to the vessel.  New decks, refurbished dining and lounging, impressive paintwork on the outer hull.  The same blue-haired man from before (his arms were made of metal!) was starstruck by the craftsmanship of the restaurant and immediately began asking questions to a few of the crewmen.  A green-haired man with three swords on his hip and a shorter man with curly black hair greeted Carne and Patty with excitement, remembering the two of them from their first visit.  The two women from the Straw Hats, with tangerine and black hair, quickly exited the gangway and joined their companions.  Zeff watched curiously as a skeleton donned in formalwear hauled himself over the side of the Sunny, followed by a fishman.  The Straw Hats were a very curious bunch, but he was filled with a giddy, child-like joy at the sight of them all, healthy, fit, and just as excited as his own crew was for the surprise reunion.

Sanji and his wife disappeared from the side of the Sunny, but quickly reappeared.  Sanji was the first to step onto the gangway before turning around and taking something from his wife, who swiftly followed his lead.  She looked like a natural on the water, and Zeff hummed, pleased.  Sanji turned around to march down the ramp, a child held in his arms, tightly gripping his shirt in her fist.  The two were the last to disembark, and immediately headed toward the Baratie's captain, who stood in mild shock as the three approached.

Sanji passed the child back to his wife so he could greet Zeff with a handshake, but he was beaten by the captain’s speed as he enveloped the smaller man in a bear hug, almost lifting him off his feet.

“Sanji,” he muttered, voice quivering.  “You look incredible.”

“Hey, no crying on me now, Zeff,” Sanji returned the gesture in kind, squeezing his adopted father back and jostling the hat on the older man’s head.  

The two released their warm embrace, and Sanji held out a hand towards his wife and the child in her arms.  The woman stepped forward with a warm smile.

“Red-Leg Zeff, it’s an honor to finally meet you!” she said with profound enthusiasm before introducing herself.  “Sanji’s been talking nonstop about this visit and how excited he’s been to see you again!”

Sanji flushed, embarrassed, but Zeff could only muster a hardy laugh.  He remembered Sanji as a stubborn, hard-to-crack kid, endlessly determined and stopping at nothing to get his way, and the man who stood before him was all of that and more.  He was gazing tenderly at his wife, cheeks rosy with embarrassment and adoration, a smile adorning his thin lips.  Zeff was beyond proud of the man Sanji had become.

“So, who’s this little one?” he asked, cautiously approaching the child in the woman’s arms.  His heart fluttered at the sight of her.

She had wavy, strawberry blonde hair and her dad’s ocean-blue eyes.  A mixture of her mom and dad’s skin tone, and she was clearly developing Sanji’s facial features.  The right corners of her eyebrows had a very slight upward curl.  She was beautiful, and her large eyes gazed curiously at Zeff as he approached.

“Sora, this is your grandfather,” the woman said affectionately.  “Say hi!”  She bounced the baby on her hip.  

When she came to the infantile conclusion that Zeff was indeed not a threat, her chubby cheeks wrinkled with a smile revealing a few barely there baby teeth.  Zeff held out one of his thick, calloused fingers, and she eagerly reached for the man.  Sanji’s wife passed the baby, Sora, over to him, and he held her like a delicate porcelain pot, like she could break at any moment.  Sanji watched the action fondly.

“Her name is Sora, she’s almost two now,” he said, his voice light and airy, almost a whisper.

Zeff bounced Sora, his granddaughter, in his arms, and she released a shrill giggle which brought a smile to his face.  “Sora…”  He knew that was Sanji’s late mother’s name.  It seemed only natural that his daughter would take the honor of bearing her name.  “She’s beautiful,” he sighed, looking at his son and daughter-in-law.  

Sanji looked like he was fighting back tears at the sight of his honorary father holding his daughter.  His wife gently squeezed his hand, and the floodgates leaked, making her chuckle.

“He’s been a bit nervous,” she said toward Zeff.

The gruff captain stepped toward his son and ruffled his smooth blonde hair in his free hand.  Sanji sniffled, picking his head up and wiping his eyes on his sleeve.  His shoulders trembled slightly with the motion of his repressed crying, but he quickly shoved it down and locked eyes with the fatherly ones staring at him.  Zeff didn’t need to ask any questions to know how much a moment like this meant to Sanji.  A child so wronged by his family and the world, growing up with no purpose, no encouragement, losing the one source of love in his life, forced to age so rapidly to survive some of the worst experiences a human should ever have to face.  To have been blessed with a crew that cared for him, fulfilling his dreams, practicing his passion, meeting one special woman who loved and supported him, and being the father of his own child, Sanji was finally content.  He was finally happy, finally content.

Zeff’s voice cracked as he uttered the sentence that he knew would make Sanji crumble.  “I’m so proud of you, son.  Look at how far you’ve come.”

Sanji’s blue eyes welled with tears that he had been holding in since his own childhood.  The commotion from the rest of the two crews faded into a muffled static as Zeff pulled Sanji’s head into his chest, holding him close.  Sora’s hand lightly smacked the top of Sanji’s hair, making him laugh, but it came out as a crackled sob.  His wife laughed, rubbing his back.

“I didn’t want to cry,” he uttered into Zeff’s chest, voice blank with slight resentment.  

“It was inevitable,” you responded with a humorous lilt.

“I know.”  He easily relented to your words, picking his head up from Zeff and placing a hand on his father’s shoulder, giving it a firm smack.  “Sorry for getting your shirt all wet, old man.”

Zeff’s chest bounced with the force of his laughter.  “You’re gonna pay for it, kid.  You’re on dish duty.”

Sanji’s mouth fell open in a panicked retaliation, but after realizing Zeff was, in fact, joking around, his tense shoulders fell in relief.  Sora reached back out toward her mom, who took her from Zeff’s grasp leaving both his hands free again.  He was able to deliver a quick, encouraging slap on Sanji’s back.

“I do expect you to help prepare this feast, though.  Show me how much you’ve improved since you left.”  He winked at his son.  “Though, I doubt you improved that much.”

“Shut up, old man!  I’ll make you the best feast you’ve ever laid eyes on.  A feast that could kill you!”  Old habits die hard, and the family meandered towards the rest of the crew, who were now milling around the lower dining hall excited for a meal to celebrate the Straw Hats’ return, and Zeff’s new granddaughter.

Zeff clapped his hands, alerting his own crew, who frantically took their places around the ship to cater to their pirate guests.  He quickly made his way into his kitchen, rustling through the main pantry for a piece of equipment he hadn’t needed to use in a very long time.  He pulled out a small food processing machine, equipped with an internal blade perfect for mashing fruits and small vegetables.

“Captain, do you need anything?” Patty was rolling up his sleeves and washing his hands in the large wash basin.

“All the fresh fruit we have.  The kid doesn’t have teeth yet, she needs some mush.”

[f1byjessie]

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part ten.

It all happens in a blur.

One moment Lando is hugging you. The firm press of his chest against yours, the grip of his calloused hand on your neck keeping your head tucked into him, and the pounding beat of his heart where your hands are trapped between the two of you. It’s such a familiar feeling— the warmth, safety, and comfort of it all. It’s like coming home.

And then the next moment he's jumping away from you like the touch of your skin against his has left him burned. Like he doesn’t trust himself not to cross the distance again if he stands a step too close—

“Erm,” he rubs at the back of his neck, and avoids your eyes as though the very thought of meeting them is appalling. There's an awkwardness about him that’s never existed before, even back when you were still far from ever calling one another friends. “Sorry. I should've asked first.”

“It's fine,” you answer. It is fine. It's been fine for years now.

You hadn’t been a particularly touchy person when you were younger— a byproduct of growing up in a family that never really cared much about or prioritized physical affection. You used to see other girls at school cling to one another in the halls, or link arms on the way home, or play with each other’s hair at lunch and it hadn’t bothered you that you didn’t have that same level of closeness with any of them, but it had confused you that friends could be so touchy-feely when your own parents seemed reluctant to spare even a pat on the shoulder.

Lando changed that.

Lando’s changed a lot of things, you’re realizing.

He grew up with three siblings and they bicker constantly, but they also have the easy closeness that you’ve always found so vastly different from your own friendships. They could be calling one another every name under the sun and then a few that you’re pretty sure they made up, and at the same time they’ll be clinging to one another like they can’t bear the thought of standing more than a meter away.

The first time Lando slung his arm over your shoulder, you’d nearly had a heart attack.

And then he just kept doing it.

By the time you realized that his hugging and draping and clinging had become a new norm for you, he was practically attached to your hip already and you didn't have the heart to question why he'd decided to bestow his physical affections upon you of all people.

“You don't have to apologize for stuff like that—”

“I know,” he interrupts. “I just—” he shrugs, still avoiding your eyes in favor of staring at a scuff on his shoe, “—didn't know if you still wanted me to.”

The reality is that a single explosive confession of your frustration and a hug doesn’t fix everything. It doesn’t fix anything, in all honesty. You’re still angry and upset and, quite frankly, hurt by what Lando had said and the way he’d treated you, but it feels like a step in the right direction.

“Garrett Ward,” Lando starts hesitantly, sparing you a fleeting glance at the mention of your fake boyfriend’s name, like he’s assessing your reaction, “blackmailed you into your relationship?”

You nod. A month ago, getting to talk about all of this was all you ever wanted and, in the heat of the moment, it had felt good to just blurt it all out and get it off your chest. The relief of someone else knowing— someone like Lando, who knows your ins and outs like he’s charted the map of your very being— isn’t erased now that you’ve had a moment to calm down, but it’s been overshadowed by a fluttery feeling of nervousness.

“He threatened to completely destroy my career,” you tell him again. “He said he’d make up a rumor about misconduct, and there’s enough people that would believe him. He has a very… devoted fanbase, as I’m sure you’re already aware.”

Lando’s drunken words return to you. Nobody in their right mind would soberly agree to be Garrett Ward’s girlfriend, and what does that say about you? Extenuating circumstances or not, if you were smarter like Lando said he thought you were, you probably would’ve been able to find a way out of it by now, or you would’ve been able to completely avoid getting tangled up in it entirely.

You think back to all the moments Jack had offered to unite the other City players who were supposedly more than willing to back up your claims that nothing unprofessional or inappropriate at all had happened while you were working at Etihad Campus and with the team.

At the time, the idea of actually standing up against him had scared you. You were too stubborn and proud to admit it, but Garrett Ward scared you— still scares you. His fans were still on their vitriolic rampage of hate, filling your comments and DMs with insults against your appearance, your career, and every other imaginable aspect of your being. You’d been forced to sort through death threats, wishes of harm, and instructions to kill yourself and the idea of it being in any way worse than it already was— the idea of exposing yourself to the judgement of so many others, others who would potentially side with a footballer they find mildly entertaining over a random girl whose only claim to fame is a few viral photographs for a motorsports team— had been overwhelming.

The night you sobbed in bed thinking about it all was the night you turned the comments off.

But, had you taken Jack up on his deal immediately, then maybe it would’ve been soon enough to also argue against anything else having “happened” in the time you’ve since spent alone with Garrett out and about on your scheduled excursions for the paparazzi.

Garrett Ward is a smart man, though he shows it so rarely in a capacity that’s actually beneficial to anyone or anything that doesn’t pertain to him. The threats he made on that night in early January about misconduct aren’t as fool-proof when you’d have a team of other players corroborating a completely different story to his. But there are other things he could say now that are harder to argue against without it all turning into a muddled he-said-she-said clusterfuck.

Being back around racing cars and their drivers has been a good distraction for a time, but you dread the day when he turns those new threats against you and asks for more than you’ve already agreed to give him for his scheme.

Lando winces, probably also remembering his words, or at the very least whatever recount Daniel gave him if he was too drunk to remember it all clearly.

“Can’t you dispute his claim?” He finally looks at you again. “Does he even have any evidence?”

You frown, “It’d be his word against mine, unless he doctored evidence to use against me. But it’s not as simple as just saying he’s lying. He’s an athlete, you know how much sway someone like Garrett has. Even if he can’t prove anything, the hit to my reputation would be enough to ensure I’m never able to find a photography gig again, let alone another in the sports industry.”

You imagine that no matter what you do now, your at Garrett’s whim and have no choice but to adhere to the schedule he wants to follow.

You tell Lando as much. “I just have to wait it out.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a PR thing,” you say with a shrug. It’s your turn to look away now, awkwardly tracing the cracks in the pavement beneath your shoes. “He’s only with me to prove he can hold down a steady relationship and fix his reputation. He’ll end it eventually.”

You’re still pretending to be enraptured with an odd spot on the ground, so you hear more than see Lando take a break, like he’s preparing to speak again—

“Session’s resuming in ten, Lando,” comes another voice instead.

Oscar has the decency to look a bit regretful at interrupting the two of you, probably because it’s the first time in weeks that you’ve both tolerated being so physically close and he’s tired of the angst and tension that permeates when you’re both confined to the same general location as one another. Either of you could’ve just as easily taken to standing as far away from each other as you could, and though it would’ve been awkward, it wouldn’t have been very hard to pass the time in total silence. Oscar’s probably just glad you both can at least still hold a civil conversation without wanting to tear each other apart, which makes you wonder whether the earlier shouting had actually managed to go unnoticed beneath the busy sounds of the garage.

Lando nods. He spares you one final glance, that you meet for a fleeting second, before he disappears through the door.

Oscar lingers. He’s watching you with those all-knowing eyes of his.

“What?” You ask.

He shrugs, but his stare is expectant.

“I told him,” you say in place of his continued silence. “About the whole Garrett situation.”

“And?”

You grind the toe of your shoe against the pavement, stalling. Oscar isn’t scheduled to drive until the afternoon session, which means he doesn’t have anywhere to be, but a part of you wonders if you could bore him enough with your own silence that it would make him wander off back to the garage in search of something to do.

Except this is Oscar you’re talking about it, and he could probably exist in total silence with someone for days if he really wanted to—probably wouldn’t even need to try.

You bite the bullet and lower yourself down to the ground, beckoning for him to do the same beside you with a wave of your hand.

“I’m realizing that I don’t actually know how to read him as well as I thought I did,” you admit when he joins you. “He was my best friend— is still my best friend, and I thought I knew everything about him, but now I feel like I never really knew him at all.”

Oscar hums, “I think you do know Lando, better than a lot of other people can say. You’re just realizing that he’s good at hiding things when he wants to. Just think about it, he’s never had a reason to hide anything from you, so of course it would be easy to read him when he’s always letting you. He’s practically an open book for you, Y/N.”

“So I fucked up our friendship by holding him accountable for his actions and now he’s never going to be open with me ever again.” You run a hand through your hair and let your fingers tangle in the wind-strewn strands, letting the sparks of pain keep you from spiralling at the thought of having ruined the most important relationship you’ve ever had.

Oscar snorts, “That’s not at all what I was going to say.”

“Yeah, well—” you elbow him teasingly in the ribs, “—you’re a freak of nature, so forgive me for not understanding how your freakish brain works either.”

“What I was going to say, is that it’s a setback at worst. You keep talking about it like having an argument isn’t completely normal behavior for friends. Me and Logan used to fight a lot, back in our Prema days especially. But you’d never be able to guess it by looking at us now. I mean, my parents keep a picture of him on our family fridge, so…” Oscar stifles a laugh when you lift an questioning eyebrow at him.

“My point is,” he continues, “just keep talking with him. Give it time, and things will get better again. But if you want my honest opinion, I think Lando’s just realized that he overstepped and did something to hurt you, and because he doesn’t want to do it again, he’s trying to make himself smaller, in a way, to minimize the chances. My guess is that he kept his distance as a way of trying not to impede.”

You lean your head back until it thunks against the wall and you’re staring up at the overhang above you and the slivers of blue sky peeking through the slats. “‘Impede,’” you repeat as you do so. “There’s nothing for him to even impede on.”

Oscar makes another sound. “Just because he knows the reality of the situation between you and Ward now doesn’t mean he didn’t spend nearly two months believing otherwise.”

Which— he makes a good point. It’s a really good point, actually, but you don’t like what it does to the butterflies in your stomach. They always used to appear back when you still humored the idea of a blossoming romance being somehow possible between yourself and Lando. Their reemergence isn’t as pleasant as you fantasized about it one day being, so you shove the feeling back down and bury it deep, and Oscar lets you both sit in companionable silence until he’s called back to duty by his race engineer.

The rest of the day goes easily enough.

Lando finishes his allotted time without anymore issues much to the relief of everyone in the garage. When he hops out of the car with a big grin stretched across his face, there’s a collective sigh of relief given by the engineers and mechanics alike.

You note that, despite the cheerful smile, there’s still the underlying exhaustion that seems to be dragging him down. The dark circles are hidden only slightly better when his eyes are squinted with the force of his grin, and the sickly palor of his skin has only been covered temporarily by the red flush of his cheeks brought on by the combined heat of the car and Bahrain’s midday sun. Despite the energy he exudes, bouncing around as he debriefs with his race engineer, his shoulders are sagging beneath the weight of an invisible force that worries you.

You’d be a liar if you said you weren’t still frustrated. Lando knows the gist of the situation. There’s a lot of finer points that he’d need to be filled in on if you wanted to talk about it with him in the same way that you discuss it with Jack, but he at least knows the story. Even still, he hasn’t apologized for his part in any of it— for the pain and distress he caused you when ignoring your calls and texts, for the hurt and shame he made you feel when he tore you apart in his drunken rant.

There is so much you still want to say to him, so many mean things you want to bring up from your worst days hiding in the bathroom at work or your loneliest nights curled up in your flat.

You imagine you’ll have your chance to get it all out there eventually, but as vindicating as it would be to scream and rage and throw the tantrum you believe you are justified to have, you imagine it would feel so much nicer to go back to how things were.

There will be more confrontations and you know that it will have get worse again before it gets better, but in the meantime you can take the win for what it is and celebrate that it’s still something.

And right now, Lando needs you as a friend as much as you need him.

It’s easier said than done, however.

You aren’t avoiding him, exactly, but he’s busy. In the past, you’d make yourself comfortable in whatever space he’s occupying and wait for him to get done, but you’re currently trying to maintain a bit of distance for both of your sake. There isn’t any lingering spite or desire to be away from him— there’s never been a desire to be away from him, if you’re being honest with yourself— but you’ve been able to come to terms with the fact that you really just want to hug him again and keep hugging him, and that might become a problem if you’re not careful. You can’t afford to just rush back into things.

Because the thing this, you might be stubborn and set in your ways, but you know that Lando is such a key part of your life and has been for so long— like a drug that you can’t live without, or rather don’t want to live without— that if given the opportunity to do so, you might unknowingly let everything go and dive head first into your revived friendship too fast just for the small chance of experiencing that normalcy again.

So you keep your distance. You stick on one side of the garage and Lando, after showering and changing out of his fireproofs, is kept on the other with debriefs and technical talk. He glances over a few times and meets your eyes, offers tentatives smiles that seem so much more tame and reluctant than his usual upbeat self, and hovers at the imaginary line separating your side from his, but before he’s ever able to cross over there’s someone else pulling him away to discuss one thing or another.

It’s as you’re making your way to the shuttle from the circuit to the hotel that you finally get your opportunity. Lando’s voice calls your name and stops you in your tracks.

Though Oscar had driven for the remainder of the day, and there wasn’t much else to worry about on or off the track, he looks even more exhausted in the darkness of the night, with the shadows cast by the streetlamps darkening the bags beneath his eyes and further accentuating his paleness.

He catches up to you quickly, a hesitant smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Um,” he nervously stutters out, “I know there’s still a lot that we need to talk about and things aren’t completely fine between us yet— and that’s fine,” he hurries to add on, “you deserve to be mad at me. I just—” he cuts himself off and casts his gaze downward to watch his fluttering fingers pick at an already bloodied hangnail. “I’m sorry. You deserve a better apology and I’ll give you one when we’re not stood in a dark carpark, but for now I’m sorry for everything. Most importantly, I’m sorry for making you feel like I didn’t value you as… as a friend.”

He falls quiet, still staring down at the mess he’s made of his cuticle. You gawk at him for a moment in surprise.

“Um,” he starts again when you don’t say anything, shifting restlessly on his feet like he’s contemplating whether to stand his ground or dash off. He glances up at you shyly, and you never thought you’d ever really describe Lando with the word shy, but there’s no other way to refer to the soft look he spares you before quickly diverting his eyes back to his hangnail. “I was wondering, would you wanna come crash at my hotel room and watch stupid TV with me? I can order us cheap wine off the room service menu, or something.”

You recognize the olive branch for what it is.

Lando’s never been the greatest with his words, he’s always excelled at replacing what can be said with what can be done instead, and this is his way of asking to make it up to you— of asking to be let in to at least prove to you that he’s serious.

You take in his downtrodden appearance however, and realize that maybe it’s also his way of asking you not to leave him alone anymore. You remind yourself of your earlier observation: Lando needs a friend as much as you do.

You nudge him with your shoulder after a moment, causing him to lift his gaze once more and meet your eyes again.

“I’d love to,” you answer, offering him a gentle smile back.

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry @sideboobrry11 @d3kstar @mcmuppet @happylittlereader @casperlikej @5starl1ght @bellezaycafe @whentheautumnleavesfall @mess-is-my-aesthetic @ssprayberrythings @landosgirlxoxo @lifelessfan @81ja @wcnorris @a-disturbing-self-reflection (CLOSED).

━━ a/n: this story has reached a frightening word count that i never imagined it reaching (28k), if i'm being honest, but the more the merrier right? my sincerest apologies for taking so long to get this up, though. i've been a bit ill as of late, which has just completely zapped my energy to do anything that isn't rot in bed all day. i'm feeling better, hence finally getting around to finishing the last home stretch of this part, but i feel bad for how long it took me and i'm hoping the next part won't take me as long as this one did.

[mornington-the-crescent]

The Poll

So, for those who don’t know, I put up a poll of, “Who was the worst American President?” The list was FDR, Woodrow Wilson, Lyndon Johnson, Herbert Hoover, and Richard Nixon. It got up to about 13k notes before I deleted it, because I was tired of the notes clogging up my feed. And the results were... telling.

About 75-80% of all the notes were, “Where is Reagan/Andrew Jackson?!?” Many of the rest, though, can be seen below:

What this tells me is that more than ten thousand people didn’t have an education; they had an indoctrination.

You want to hear it? All right, buckle up, because it’s time for a stroll down memory lane.

Why was FDR a bad president?

It is almost hard to know where to begin with this. Let’s start with one of the most basic ones: The belief that FDR got us out of the Depression.

Point of fact, No the fuck he did not.

Making American Depressed

If you ask almost any historian or economist, they will tell you flat-out that not only did the New Deal not end the Great Depression, but that it made it significantly longer and worse than it would have been otherwise. Hoover bears some of the blame for this, but the pseudo-socialist dogshit that was the New Deal bears the brunt of the blame for this one.

The stock market crashed in late October, 1929. Two months later, unemployment peaked at 9%. Over the next several months, unemployment started to fall, down to 5-6% by the spring of the next year. Half a year after the crash, unemployment had not hit double digits. Hoover’s intervention, though, did cause unemployment to reach double digits. Roosevelt was elected in 1932 and took office in 1933, and unemployment did not fall out of double digits for the remainder of the 1930′s. The thing that actually pulled the US out of the Depression was the second World War; turns out that removing roughly 12 million people from the labor force to go and fight does wonders for unemployment numbers. FDR even said that Doctor New Deal was replaced by Doctor Win-The-War.

This was hardly the first economic downturn in American history. For the first 150 years of this country, there were downturns all the time. And what the government did was nothing, and the economy recovered on its own. But Roosevelt represents the first massive large-scale intervention in the economy. And government intervention in the economy slows economic recovery; when you have no idea what the government is going to do tomorrow in regards to the economy, it’s hard to make smart financial decisions, so you just don’t bother. After all, why do anything if tomorrow, the rules of the game are going to change?

Separation of Powers Who?

FDR issued more executive orders than any other President of the 20th century. He may, in fact, have issued more than all the other Presidents of the 20th century combined. Rather than letting Congress, the legislative branch of government, you know, legislate, he preferred to try to do everything himself.

The President is supposed to be the weakest branch of the government, but Roosevelt did everything he could to try to establish its supremacy over the other branches. When Congress didn’t give him his way, he used executive orders. When the Supreme Court challenged some of his acts as unconstitutional, his response was to threaten to have them replaced, or to simply pack the court with judges more sympathetic to his aims. This is a man who was openly contemptuous of the concept of the rule of law.

Here’s a fun entry from the notes:

Hey, you want to talk about fascists? Actual, honest-to-goodness Fascists, not just the modern definition (i.e. anyone a nanometer to the right of Noam Chomsky)? Let’s talk about the originals. Let’s talk about the inventor of Fascism, Benito motherfucking Mussolini. And how FDR openly admired him, and was “deeply impressed by what he has accomplished”, calling Fascism the “cleanest, most efficiently operating piece of social machinery [he had] ever seen”, and that it made him “envious”. And Mussolini, for his part, said of Roosevelt that, “Reminiscent of Fascism is the principle that the state no longer leaves the economy to its own devices … Without question, the mood accompanying this sea change resembles that of Fascism.”

When the guy who fucking invented Fascism is saying that he thinks that you are also doing Fascism, then maybe you’re not a good person.

Concentration- I Mean, Internment Camps

And just like his buddies on the other side of the Atlantic, right when World War 2 kicked off, Roosevelt thought it would be a good idea to take “undesirables” and throw them into prison camps. Roughly 20 thousand Italian- and German-Americans, American citizens, were thrown into camps, simply for the crime of having ancestors from countries we were at war with. And then, of course, there’s the 120 thousand Japanese-Americans who were likewise rounded up and put into prison camps, two thirds of whom were natural-born American citizens.

Almost 150 thousand American citizens, thrown into literal concentration camps, without the bother and expense of due process, stripped of their constitutional rights simply on the basis of race.

As for the concentration camps set up in Europe by the Nazis, however? Despite being told of their existence by people who had escaped, as well as journalists and lawyers from Germany, once American planes gained the ability to attack those camps, to shut them down? FDR refused to grant them permission to do so.

Commander in Thief

Executive Order 6102 outlawed the private ownership of gold, allowing the government to confiscate all of it. Once that was accomplished, the Gold Reserve Act allowed him to change the value of gold, debasing America’s currency (which was on a gold standard at the time), which permitted him to steal literally billions of dollars from American citizens, without any compensation.

World War, Too

There is evidence to suggest that Roosevelt knew about the imminent attack on America by Japan in December of 1941. He discussed with several high-ranking people in the War Department, and in his own cabinet, how to get Japan to fire the first shot in the war, so that he could get America involved. It would make sense: His oil embargo was designed to provoke a Japanese response, so as to draw America into the war. And once America was in the war, ordered the Philippines to be abandoned, outright lying that there was an army waiting to retake it once it had been conquered by Japan.

And as the war dragged on, he got quite cozy with Uncle Joe, Stalin himself. He helped to repatriate two million people to Russia, who very much did not want to go back, many of them ending up either in the gulags, or simply killed outright. And his constant concessions to Stalin helped the Soviet Union hold on to eastern Europe, setting the stage for the Cold War. Even when he was informed of Soviet spies within the American government, and provided evidence of their disloyalty and subversion, he simply let them keep at it.

Racism, Racism, and more Racism

Remember how you cheered when lynching was made a federal crime a few months ago, and asked why it hadn’t been done before now? Well, the main reason was good ol’ FDR himself. A bill was proposed in the Congress which would have made lynching a federal crime, and Roosevelt refused to pass it.

Or what about during the Olympic games in Berlin, when black athletes from America took home multiple gold medals? Roosevelt invited the white athletes to the White House, but not a single black one. Jesse Owens, who won four gold medals, said, “Hitler didn’t snub me --- it was [Roosevelt] who snubbed me. The president didn’t even send me a telegram.”

And then there was his nomination of a KKK member to the Supreme Court; Hugo Black, who had zero judicial experience, was nominated simply because he supported the New Deal.

He also was of the opinion that America was, and ought to remain, a white and Protestant country, and that too many Jews was inherently a bad thing, because of how distasteful he found them. He boasted that there was no Jewish blood in his veins, as a mark of pride. He even went so far as to turn away ships of Jewish refugees, fleeing Nazi tyranny in Europe.

In conclusion

FDR was a massive piece of shit. He massively overstepped his constitutionally-appointed bounds at every available opportunity, massively expanding the power of the Presidency at the expense of all other parts of government, and at the expense of individual liberty. He was openly racist and anti-Semitic. His economic policies brought ruin upon the American economy. He openly praised fascism right up until the moment that it was no longer politically expedient to do so, and switched to deferring to authoritarian communism instead. Almost everything that you hate about the modern United States can be traced directly back to this one man.

The fact that he is remembered as not just a good President, but one of the best Presidents, shows how utterly broken American education is.

[jaehyunssi]

An Unwanted Love Story - l.jn

enemies to lovers ㅡ college romance ㅡ alleged fuckboy!jeno x female reader ㅡ age restrict: 15

Summary: You know what everyone says and warns about how much of a jerk Jeno is, but why the hell is he standing in front of your house now?

Lee Jeno isn’t the one and only man that you avoid in this big, big world.

Despite the fact that you’ve cursed over hundreds of men, he’s still the first guy you don’t want to talk to. Other than being the type of man who looks out for hugs in every single people he met, Jeno is always living in a world of today’s town talk where everyone guesses what kind of girl he slept with tonight. A player, a jackass, an attention seeking man, you were told. And even with thousands of warnings people told others, for some reason, they would somehow still find ways to hang out with the man just for the sake of how fun he is.

You don’t really know what kind of person he really is now, though. Even with how much of a recognition the man has recently, the first time you’ve met him was another type of story than what he surrounded with today. Meeting the man when you were still in high school, of course, made you remember who Jeno was. He was a smart boy, probably still as talkative as he used to, and you still remember the first time your friend ever introduced him to you. Too bad, you don’t really have the time to know him even when he tries to befriend you. If you can put the one to blame, it would be the final exam test that kept you studying for more than ten hours in your last year of highschool.

So, what are the odds that let the universe bring the two of you once again?

Seeing Jeno standing in front of you made it hard for you to hold your mouth close. He, himself, is surely different than what you remembered from him. You know you’ve always getting surrounded over the rumours about the man himself, but you didn’t expect that he would look like what people said. Like an angel who chose to build a hell, the undercut made him looked dangerous, yet the smile he shows felt like a warm greeting. Very gorgeous, yet very risky.

“Wow.” His arms are folded over his chest, leaving the luggage he brought stands by itself. “Look at you.” His eyes take time to observe your body, noticing how many changes you made over two years of not knowing about each other’s existence past highschool.

“So my brother lent his room to you?”

He lifts his shoulder, still smiling. “Want to blame your own brother for studying abroad? Don’t worry, I’m not that thrilled either.”

A quick grunt left your mouth. Quickly, you take your phone, texting hundreds of profanities to your brother for not warning you from who’s going to live with you for the next months. If you knew, you would’ve been in a better situation than this.

Looking at you being all annoyed by his existence, Jeno chuckles as he closes the door he opened when he got in to your (and your brother’s) place. “Come on, I’m not that bad.”

“Ha, right. Don’t teach me what’s bad and what’s not.”

“Relax. We’re just living at the same place, it’s not like we have to be friends or what.”

He’s not wrong for that. Maybe you were just overreacting, maybe you were just afraid of the rumours being right and you have to pretend that you’re okay that he’s going to bring bunch of women in your house every night. Not to mention that Jeno payed his way to live here, it would be rude of you to just kick him out just because you don’t really want to talk with him. Kicking yourself out would be a disadvantage and would be too much of an effort over a fuckboy.

Right. You can just pretend he doesn’t exist.

You sighed, finally accepting the fact that The Unwanted Jeno Lee is going to live with you for God knows how long. It’s going to be hard to deal with the fact that you’re basically roommates with the man who’s going to be the source of your migrains, but you would live. You would live.

The first night you spent with the man is unexpectedly harder than you thought. A view of Jeno unpacking the video games he brought as your first sight when you finally leave your room made you roll your eyes. Oh, the thought of hearing him shouting over some game character at midnight is already giving you headache.

After you walked your way to the kitchen, you took out the soft drink you bought from the fridge. Pouring it on your favorite mug as you shoves ice cubes inside as well. Even when you’re both are technically in the same room, none of you wants to speak to each other. You can see him glancing at you, but you chose to not hold any eye contact with the man.

“So…” Jeno chose to start. “Anything that I should know?” He asks without looking at you, hands are still busy arranging the video games to the rack standing beside the TV.

“Like what?”

“Like, maybe I should take out the trash or maybe you won’t like it if I play these masterpieces in the middle of the night?”

You lift your eyebrows. Clearly, you didn’t know that you’re living with a mind-reader as well. “Of course, you can do that.” You responded, finally finished preparing yourself to look at the man. “But, I need more than the house chores.”

Jeno turns his head, realizing that you’re already looking at him with such mischievous gaze.

“Don’t bring your girls here.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “I don’t fuck around.”

“Right, and birds swims. Look, Jeno, I’ve heard, okay? And I’m not looking forward in seeing strangers my roommates hook up with walking around at my place in the morning.”

He turns his head down, smiling underneath as he lifts his eyebrows, still not believing what he just heard. You can hear him laughing a little right after your sentence, but he suddenly has his eyes back at you. “Sure, whatever. I better not see boys either.”

For the rest of the night, you don’t see him around again. You wonder if you did something wrong, but after shaking your head, you gain your conscious back by realizing that it’s a good thing to not have him on your sight.

As much as you despise the idea of having a fuckboy in your place, after a week living with Jeno, you notice that it’s really not that hard as you thought it would be. In fact, you don’t really have to pretend he doesn’t live there since Jeno is either outside all day or doesn’t leave his room for 24 hours. What surprises you more everyday is how he actually helped with the house chores, and it was all done really well also. The only thing that is left for you to do there is to cook, and Jeno is always thankful for that.

You hate to admit, but he’s really not that bad of a roommate.

On one Saturday night, right when you’re about to go out with your friend at the nearest bar downtown, you found Jeno sleeping on the long couch in the living room, barely having anything to cover his body from the cold air. His hair is messy, and so is the resume papers on the carpet. He’s still a college student after all, and you know it’s hard for him as how hard it is for you. For a moment, you were intrigued to treat him like a real friend like putting on a blanket on top of his body. But, that can lead to things you don’t want to happen, can’t it?

“Silly.” You whispered under your breath before you find your way to the front door. But just when you’re on your half way there, Jeno seems to wake up from his sleep as you hear movements from the living room.

“(Y/n)?” He calls, voice is raspy. Turning your body to look at your roommate, you can see him yawning, already sitting on the couch. It’s sort of unfair that he’s still attractive when he literally just woke up. “You’re… dressed up.” He rubs one of his eyes a few times.

“I need liquor.”

“That’s bad for your body, you know?” He lifts one of his eyebrows, smiling as his eyes blink slowly.

You nod. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t see those five cans of Monsters on the floor.”

He throws his hand on his forehead, letting little laughs falls from his lips. The act made him falls back right to the couch like how he slept earlier. “God, (y/n).”

You smiled, still standing as you hear him chuckles. That’s probably the first time you’ve ever heard his laugh, it was melodic, probably one of the nicest laugh you’ve ever heard from a man.

“You’re funny, you know that?” He adds.

“Not that much of a news to me.”

He sits up back, looking at you once more with a smile this time. “I like that about you.” He told you.

You tilt your head. “Not going to fall for that Lee Jeno…”

Before leaving your house, you could’ve sworn his eyes are still on you even when you’re closing the door. You begin to understand why he can get all the girls around still wanting to sleep with the man. You can’t deny how capable he is with words, not to mention how already good looking his face is.

But not you, you won’t fall for a jerk.

Entering the exam week made you and Jeno stays longer inside rather than hanging out with each other’s friends because both of you is studying under a prestigious college. Now that you’ve somehow built a better communication with the man you were avoiding before, you realize that the only thing that changes from him is his looks. Other than that, he’s still an academically committed student that spends their whole day studying.

Studying all day bored every students out and it applies to you and Jeno as well. In the middle of the week, you and Jeno chose to spend the rest of the night together by just talking. You chose to cook some pasta for both of you and ended up eating together at the dinner table. His feet sometimes hit you on purpose, and somehow a battle begin under the table. Without any plans, you became comfortable with his presence and so did he.

From one simple dinner that you both spent together, it sort of turning into a routine. Even when one of you is going out, somehow, both of you still find ways to eat together at night. Jeno would sometimes show up with a box of pizza if you can’t cook that day. Jeno was also once tried to cook but you both ended up with taking drive-thru because he burnt the food. On the other time, you asked him to eat with you as you both watch Kung Fu Panda, which ended with both of you crying.

“You’re crying over a Panda.” He teases you as he wipes your tear with his thumb. You pushed his shoulder, making the man let out a little ‘ouch’.

“We’re crying over a Panda.”

Jeno laughs fades out as he found himself looking at you for a little too long. He takes time, realizes that you’re becoming the one and only reason he wants to go home early.

Feeling a pair of eye on you, you looked at the boy sitting next to you. Jeno shakes his head when you caught him staring, suddenly paying his attention on the TV even when the only thing that shows up on the screen is a credit scene.

You were pretty sure that you’ve never seen him look at you like that before.

“Do you think we can use that beer on the fridge now?” Your question made him turn his head back to you.

He shakes his head, standing up from the couch as he hands his hand for you to grab. “Come on, it’s 12 already.”

You take his hand, but not taking any effort to get your body off of the couch. “We can reeeaaally take a glass or two…” You pleaded.

“You’re asking me to carry you all the way to your room, don’t you?”

With the speed of a lightning, you stood up, already walking towards your room. “Nope! Bye! See you!”

Jeno laughs as he shakes his head, carrying the dirty dishes for him to wash.

What he doesn’t know is how your heart beats really fast by a simple sentence from his mouth. The sharp feeling in your stomach makes it harder for you to hold yourself from making an inaudible scream. You wouldn’t let him, you wouldnt let a person like him to have a way to your heart. Not him. Not him.

After the exam week passed, Jeno asks you to be a friend for him to attend the party his friend made. You hesitate at first, but Jeno has a lot of friends that is also yours. After a lot of bargaining and debates, you chose to come with him. You didn’t expect of what kind of person Jeno is around his friends. Unexpectedly, he introduces you to each one of them. They’re all welcoming you nicely as well, and not to mention the similiar faces you met there. Jeno made you comfortable and doesn’t let himself lose you on his sight either. Even when you were just want to grab a drink, he chose to stay beside you. But you needed a rest after a hard week, so you asked Jeno to leave the party with you, which he agreed to.

You didn’t know if it was the amount of liquors you drank of if it’s because you have the lowest tolerance of alcohol, but it’s hard for you to stand still. You didn’t have trouble in walking your way to your house but standing still made you lose your balance. Jeno sees that you can’t barely hold yourself when you finally unlocks the door, he quickly grabs you arms and waist, not wanting you to hit the ground.

“Watch out, baby.” He told you.

You smirked. “Baby?”

“Since you can’t freaking stand up. Come on, let’s remove those heels from you.” He helps you to walk inside, crouching down as he unties the knot on your heels. You didn’t knew why you chose to wear such a complex footwear as well, but, he helps. “See? Baby.”

“Quit it.”

He stood up, smiling at you when your eyes met his. It surely is the alcohol, since he looks… too good right now.

But all of sudden, Jeno gets his face closer to yours, it made you walked backwards. “Does baby think it’s her time to sleep?”

“Ew.” You push his chest, leaving the man’s back hitting the wall as you walk your way to the living room. “Stop telling me to sleep.” You throw yourself at the couch.

Jeno left you alone at the living room since you somehow chose to watch the TV. He took a shower, removing the reek of alcohol and cigarettes off his hair and body. He didn’t spend a long time taking a bath since you probably would ask him to watch a movie.

But when he walked out of his room, he sees your eyes closed already with your head resting at the small pillow on your couch. He should’ve expected this.

“(Y/n).” Jeno shakes your hand as he crouches down, looking at you as he tucks a part your hair behind your ear. “You’re such a handful.”

Hearing no response, he calls your name once more. It woke you up from your sleep. “What?” You ask, annoyed, but still have your eyes closed.

“Let me carry you back to your room, okay?” He asks for your permission, which you give a nod to.

Jeno carefully lifts up your body, carrying you to your room as you rest your head on his shoulder. For a brief, he felt warm. For a moment, he feels like he would gone mad if he doesn’t kiss your forehead right now.

But he knows you wouldn’t like that.

Carefully releasing your body on the matress, he grabs a cotton pad he knows you always used every time you’re cleaning the makeup on your face. He makes sure that he swifts it gently so it won’t wake you up, taking a moment for him to finish the job.

He looks at your eyes, then your nose, then your lips.

For a second, it feels like heaven for him to just look at you like that.

His right hand hesitates, but it finally strokes your cheek as you move a bit, feeling a little ticklish. He smiles, knowing that this is the first time he ever gets this close to you. He has always known that you’re pretty, but at this exact moment, you’re more than a pretty woman who turns out to be his roommate.

“Jeno.” You mumble.

His eyes got big, but he calms himself down, not even stopping his hands from caressing you. “Hmm?”

“Just kiss me already.”

He smiles. “Friends don’t kiss, (y/n).”

“Good.” You lean towards the man, cranes his neck as you drag him closer to where your face is. “We’re roommates anyway.”

You press your lips agains his, yet he kisses you back as if he wants it the most. His hand cups your cheeks as his chest meets yours, feeling the warmth of your skin against his cold skin, letting himself melts to wherever your kiss brought him. You can feel his smile builds as he continues to kiss your lips, then feels a new warmth from his tongue travels your lower lip. You let him, wasting no time for both of you to finally tangle the tongues. He takes time, learning how you tastes even when it is covered with beer from earlier, it’s still one of the best thing his tongue has ever tastes in this world. He takes time, but every second passed, the kiss is rougher and rougher.

The man you swore you wouldn’t talk to is ironically the person who you asked to kiss. It’s wrong, but it feels so right.

Jeno parts from you, making you see the man looking at you as he breathes. You know you’ve drown in him, but you didn’t try escape either.

“You’re driving me insane, you know that?” He breathes.

You smiled. “Telling this to all the girls?”

“Just you.” He kisses you back, sucking the lower part of your lips a little. “Just you…” he whispers under his breath.

Jeno grabs your hand, pins it right above your head as he lets your tongue and his discovers more of what they want. He presses his body, not wanting any distance exists between him and you. You can feel his nose, that’s just how close he is to you. But just one second later, you can feel his face slides to the side of your face, his mouth close to your ear.

“And don’t talk about other girls. You’re the only one.” He whispers.

..

author’s note: aaahh what do we feel about this? anywaysss feel free to ask or even talk to me on the askbox! also sorry for being inactive:-( i’m planning to see our dreamies in march let’s hope i get the tickets lol i love u all sm xxxxxxxxx

[mariacallous]

Six months into the Russian occupation of the Ukrainian city of Kherson, in September 2022, the director of Liza Batsura’s college arrived at the dormitory where Batsura lived and told the students to pack up their things: They were going to Crimea. If the students refused, they would be put in the basement, Batsura said, speaking through a translator. The director gave no further explanation.

The next evening, they were taken to a camp called “Friendship” in Crimea, which was occupied by Russia in 2014. Although she couldn’t have known it at the time, Batsura—now 16 years old—was one of almost 20,000 children the Ukrainian government estimates have been deported or forcibly displaced to Russia. Only 388 have been returned.

Initially, the prospect of a couple of weeks by the sea didn’t sound so bad. But Batsura quickly began to realize that that wouldn’t be the case. The food was terrible, the days were long, and the children were pressured to sing Russian songs, including the national anthem, which made her very uncomfortable.

Foreign Policy is unable to independently verify Batsura’s account, but her experience closely tracks with the findings of investigations by the United Nations as well as researchers at Yale School of Public Health and other human rights groups who have documented a “systematic” effort to relocate and reeducate thousands of Ukrainian children over the course of the war. She also recounted her story to Reuters as part of an extensive investigation into the deportations.

Batsura was one of five Ukrainian teenagers who visited Washington last month with representatives of Save Ukraine, a Ukraine-based nonprofit that helps to rescue Ukrainian children from Russia and the territories it occupies. They stoically recounted the stories of their abductions again and again for journalists, members of Congress, and attendees at public events.

It was the group’s first visit to Washington. Batsura felt like she was in a movie, she said.

With long limbs and round cheeks, the teenagers filed into the conference room of a Washington-based nonprofit with their minders from Save Ukraine for an interview with Foreign Policy. Once the Wi-Fi password had been secured and the bathroom located, they began to tell their stories.

They were teenagers like any other you’d see hanging out with friends at a cafe or shopping mall. Yet they were also victims of Moscow’s large-scale deportation of Ukrainian children—a potential war crime and the reason that the International Criminal Court (ICC) issued arrest warrants for Russian President Vladimir Putin and the country’s children’s rights commissioner, Maria Lvova-Belova, in March 2023.

Like Batsura, they all hail from regions of eastern Ukraine that were quickly occupied by Russian forces in the early days of the war. They recount being coerced or forced, sometimes at gunpoint, to go with Russian forces, and they were taken to schools and summer camps where they were held for several months and faced pressure to accept Russian citizenship.

In many instances, Ukraine’s most vulnerable children have borne the brunt of Russian deportation. Before the war, Ukraine had one of the highest rates of child institutionalization in Europe, with more than 100,000 children living in residential institutions. The vast majority have living parents but were placed in institutions because of poverty, difficult family circumstances, or because the child had a disability, according to Human Rights Watch.

The deportations have been carried out in plain sight. Early in the war, Putin signed a decree making it easier for Ukrainian children to be adopted and to be given Russian citizenship. Lvova-Belova herself claims to have adopted a teenager from the besieged Ukrainian city of Mariupol, and she has spoken publicly about her efforts to Russify him. In November, a BBC investigation found that a 2-year old girl who went missing from a children’s home in Kherson when she was just 10 months old had been adopted by 70-year-old member of the Russian parliament, Sergey Mironov.

Lvova-Belova has made a number of visits to institutions holding Ukrainian children, including to a college in the occupied Ukrainian city of Henichesk, where Batsura had been transferred from Crimea and placed in a culinary arts program.

The dormitory where Batsura was placed was freezing cold at night, she said, and the teenagers were forbidden to close the doors to their rooms. Russian troops patrolled the halls.

Lvova-Belova offered the children 100,000 rubles, roughly $1,000, and the opportunity to study at a college in Russia on the condition that they remain there. Batsura refused. Officials tried to find her a foster family, and she feared she would be sent to a remote region of Russia and would never be able to return to Ukraine.

For eight months while she was in Russian custody, Batsura had been unable to contact her mother, but she learned through a friend that her mother was working with Save Ukraine and applying for a passport so that she could travel to Russia and collect her.

With the border to Russia closed since the invasion, families face a daunting overland journey through wartime Ukraine, traveling into Poland, Belarus, and then Russia and—in Batsura’s case—down into occupied Ukrainian territory.

In some instances, children are turned over to their relatives without too much difficulty once the family members arrive to collect them, but the Russian authorities have also been known to present obstacles, said Olha Yerokhina, a spokesperson for Save Ukraine. The organization has helped families retrieve 240 children to date.

Officials at the school told Batsura that the journey was too arduous and that her friend was giving her false hope that her mother would ever arrive. “I didn’t believe them, and I kept telling myself that ‘No, my mom can do it, my mom will come,’” she said.

In May 2023, Batsura was rescued by her mother and now lives with her in Kyiv, where she is working with psychologists to process her experience. She is back in school and describes her hobbies as writing poems and making TikTok videos.

I asked her, given the atrocities that Putin has been accused of committing in Ukraine and during his presidency, how she felt about the fact that it was experiences like hers that had led the ICC to issue an arrest warrant for the Russian leader.

Yerokhina, who acted as our translator, interrupted to say that because she was rescued after the court order was issued, Batsura had likely missed the news about the ICC arrest warrant.

After Yerokhina explained the court’s decision, Batsura said, “It’s just.”

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #12

March 29-April 5 2024

President Biden united with Senator Bernie Sanders at the White House to review Democratic efforts to bring down drug prices. President Biden touted his Administration’s capping the price of insulin for seniors at $35 a month and capping the price of  prescription drugs for seniors at $2,000 a year. Biden hopes to expand both to all Americans through legislation next year with a Democratic congress. The President also praised Senator Sanders' efforts as chair of the Senate Health Committee which has lead to major drug manufacturers capping the price of inhalers at $35 a month. “Bernie, you and I have been fighting this for 25 years,” Biden said “Finally, finally we beat Big Pharma. Finally.”

The White House gave an update on its actions around the Francis Scott Key Bridge disaster. The federal government working with state and local governments hope to have enough of the remains of the bridge cleared to partially reopen the Port of Baltimore by the end of the month and have the port working normally by May. The Administration has already released $60 million in emergency money toward rebuilding and promises the federal government will cover the cost. The Department of Labor has released $3.5 million for Dislocated Worker Grants and plans up to $25 million to cover lost wages. The Small Business Administration is offering $2 million in emergency loans to affected small businesses. The Administration is working with business and labor unions to keep workers at work and cover lost wages.

Vice-President Harris and EPA Administrator Michael Regan announced $20 billion to help finance tens of thousands of climate and clean energy projects across the country. The kinds of projects that will be financed through this project include distributed clean power generation and storage, net-zero retrofits of homes and small businesses, and zero-emission transportation. 70% of the funds, $14 billion, will be invested in low-income and disadvantaged communities. The project is part of a public private partnership so for every 1 dollar of federal money, private companies have promised 7 dollars of investment, bring the total to $150 billion for ongoing financing of climate and clean energy projects for years to come.

The Department of Transportation announced $20.5 billion in investments in public transportation. This represents the largest single investment in public transit by the federal government in history. The money will go to improving and expanding subways, light rail, buses, and ferry systems across America. The DoT hopes to use the funds to in particular expand and improve options for public transport for people with disabilities and seniors.

The Departments of Energy and The Treasury announced $4 billion in tax credits for businesses investing in clean energy, critical materials recycling, and Industrial decarbonization. The credits till go toward 100 projects across 35 states. 67% of the credits ($2.7 billion) will go to clean energy, wind, solar, nuclear, clean hydrogen, as well as updates to grids, better batter storage, and investments in electric vehicles. 20% ($800 million) will go to to recycling things like lithium-ion batteries, and 13% ($500 million) to decarbonization in industries like automotive manufacturing, and iron and steel.

The Department of Agriculture announced $1.5 Billion in investments in climate-smart agriculture. USDA plans to support over 180,000 farms representing 225 million acres in the next 5 years move toward more climate friendly agriculture. 40% of the project is reserved for disadvantaged communities, in line with the Biden Administrations standard for climate investment. $100 million has been reserved for projects in Tribal Communities.

The Department of the Interior approved the New England Wind offshore wind project. To be located off Martha’s Vineyard the New England project represents the 8th such off shore wind project approved by the Biden administration. Taken together these projects will generate 10 gigawatts of totally clean energy that can power 4 million homes. The Administration's climate goals call for 30 gigawatts of off shore wind power by 2030. The New England Wind project itself is expected to generate 2,600 megawatts of electricity, enough to power more than 900,000 homes in the New England area.

The Department of the Interior announced $320 Million for tribal water infrastructure. Interior also announced $244 million to deal with legacy pollution from mining in the State of Pennsylvania, as well as $25 million to protect wetlands in Arizona and $19 million to put solar panels over irrigation canals in California, Oregon and Utah. While the Department of Energy announced $27 million for 40 projects by state, local and tribal governments to combat climate change

[rizsu]

pretty you toji fushiguro.

sum. yet again another seventeen ref ( kpop ). you give toji a clothing haul & he spots his fav.

toji is not living the retired life right now. unlike his many thoughts and dreams, he's been running around chasing his bounty like dogs chase cats. with each bounty being priced at at least ninety thousand to one hundred thousand and more, he can afford to live lavishly and relax at a nice hotel each month. but no—toji simply banks his money and walks around with the same two-piece he's had since his mid-twenties.

currently, he's bordering on thirty-three. not old, not young, but a simple thirty-three; the age where he did not expect to be glued to the edge of the bed as he rates “sexy and cute!” outfits. it happened against his will, but who is toji to deny a haul from his woman? after waiting another ten minutes for the next reveal, he gathers up the numbered signs from one to ten for his ratings. he might be here forcefully, but he takes his girl very, very seriously (it was your idea).

watching you twirl and pose in your fit, toji's mind wanders. it'll be such a nasty lie if he denies that you look stunning. scrumptious, even. perhaps even tasteful, if you permit him. a cute outfit adorns your body, with accessories adding even more of a statement to it, and you can't forget the classic necklace you've been treasuring since last year! it's a gift from you to yourself, and you absolutely love it.

manspreading even further, he gestures for you to come over between his legs, one hand immediately resting on your hip, almost as if it were a default reaction. toji scans your outfit, molding the fat on your hip almost unconsciously. his other hands fiddle with the fabric, turning you slightly sideways. low vibrations of his hums escape, and he gives way to the satisfaction that swims in him every time he watches you, making it known verbally with a little “yeah, you look pretty.”

a cheeky smile lines itself on your lips, you perform another twirl and reply to him, “why, thank you!”

letting out a “mhm”, toji slithers one hand behind your lower back, pushing you forward to sit you down on his lap. content with your new position, he notices the scent that's lingering on you—a shea butter and coconut-scented body mist. having learned that it's your go-to mist, it soon became his favourite scent. something about it gravitates him to your neck—more specifically, the junction that connects your neck to your shoulder. following suit with his routine, he peppers you with kisses and lightly bites your neck, proudly collecting laughs from you.

“okay, i haven't finished my haul!” “i've seen enough.”

raising his head, he makes sure you see the pain that descends on him. he loves you lots but not that much. he's quite literally seen more than enough outfits for today. hell, he's seen more outfits than he owns. to his displeasure, he will be sitting through the rest. as of now, in your presence, his opinions hold zero weight. negative zero.

[mrwavellswaps]

The Transfer Auction 1 - Vince

Once every month, late on the first Sunday evening, an auction would be held. But this was no ordinary auction. It was held at a secret location that only few knew about. Those people were either those that were extremely wealthy or those who were brought to the auction to ‘compete’. It took place in a rather large showroom with a huge luxurious stage at front. There were multiple rows of chairs seated before the stage, many of which were already filled by those eager for the show to start. As this was the men’s auction, naturally the entire crowd was made of rich men. The kind of rich you’d be able to sense at a single glance. High end tailored suits, designer clothes, expensive watches. The type of men that could spend thousands and hardly bat an eye. And yet, because of its unique and fascinating nature, this auction had drawn them all here. Because at this auction they could buy something they wouldn’t be able to buy anywhere else. So naturally when the lights dimmed, the crowd erupted with applause while a man made his way to the left side of the stage where the podium sat.

“Good evening everyone! My name is Gavin Alexander and I’ll be your host for the night!” He announced via the microphone.

“I can’t help but notice just how many of you there are so I suppose it’s only appropriate for me to say that this is a private event. AKA don’t be telling any poor folk about where we’re situated.” He laughed, getting a chuckle out of the small crowd. “But seriously, don’t. If we have to deal with the public then that means less fun for all of us!” He added, to which the audience murmured in agreement. “However, with that out of the way, let’s get this show started!” The crowd applauded once more as the stage lit up with spotlights, preparing for what was to come.

Moments later a group of ten men came onto stage, all in nothing but tight speedo and a number so that nothing was left to the imagination. The men varied slightly in age with the youngest looking around 20 years old and the oldest seeming to be in his 40’s. They also varied in height, appearance and race but the one thing that remained consistent throughout all ten men was that they were in great shape. Some of them were huge bodybuilder size, some were super lean with defined abs while others sat somewhere in between. Regardless, they were hunks to say the least.

The host walked over towards the first man in line. “As some of you may already know, this first group of men are our professionals. This means they’ll have a few guidelines which they’ll share with you as we proceed. After this our second group of men will be our criminal group who’ve been ordered to take part in addition to their sentences. As such these men don’t have the luxury of setting guidelines and so everything is up for grabs with them.” He stated clearly with a wide smile before making his way across the stage to the first hunk in line. “Now, to our first professional of the night, Mr Chase Adams! What are your terms?” He asked

“Well I’m cool with transferring muscle, body fat, hair and all that stuff. Only things that are off the table for me I’d say are genitals and anything to do with my face.” Chase listed off and as soon as he did the bidding began at around 400 grand. Many of the spectators eager to win a chance to ‘transfer’ with the well proportioned, fair skinned hunk. But one man in the crowd wasn’t the least bit interested in Chase.

Vince Hamlin. He wore a casual grey suit that hugged his lean form and honestly made him seem a little underdressed when compared to some of the other men in the audience. He was easily identifiable by his bald head while also keeping a nicely trimmed beard that framed his handsome looks perfectly. Vince sighed as he waited for the bidding of Chase to come to a close. The quicker they got to the sixth man in line, the better. Number six was only one Vince really had his eye on.

For the next half an hour or so Vince sat either on his phone or using his bidding paddle as a fan while he waited. Watched as the host defended down the line of hunks. The one after Chase was an asian man who had the face of a super model with an incredible swimmer's body. After him was another white dude who was the smallest of the bunch and prided himself on being so thin and lean. Vince couldn’t help noticing how more of the overweight men in the crowd began bidding once the guy mentioned body fat transferral was on the table. At last however he found himself sitting up a little straighter when the host finally approached the sixth man in line.

“Next up is Mr Darius Crawford and by the looks of it he’s our biggest man here tonight! But before we start fighting over him, what are your terms Mr Crawford?” He asked the hunk.

Just as the host had said, Darius was easily the largest contestant out of the group. He was huge all over with massive imposing muscles along with rich ebony skin and dark hair, not to mention being incredibly tall. Some of the gay men in the crowd were practically drooling at his mere presence, Vince included though he tried to hide it. “For me, the things that are off limits are my genitals, my race and my age in either direction. Besides that everything else is up for grabs.” He spoke with a deep, masculine tone into the mic before giving a thumbs up to the audience.

“You heard him folks!” The host said as he turned towards the audience again. “Now how about we start the bidding at… let’s say Six Hundred Grand? That sound fair Darius?” He turned back towards the bodybuilder who gave a satisfactory nod. “Six Hundred Grand it is!”

Right away people in the crowd began raising their paddles. 650K, 700K, 800K, 950K! The number kept rising and it was no surprise considering Darius seemed to be the grand prize of tonight’s professional selection. Just as the numbers were reaching the mid one millions however, Vince raised his paddle and shouted “Four Million!” There were a few glances in his direction, people slightly surprised at the sudden jump in bid.

“Going once!” The host beamed in Damian’s direction. “Going Twice!” He added. “Any more bid’s!? This is your last chance! Goin-” before he could finish he was interrupted by another bidder.

“Five Million!” Shouted a 60-something year old man.

“Seven Million!” Another one screamed with his paddle in the air.

“Twelve Million!!!” One more chimed in.

These bidders were persistent. More so than Vince had expected. Then again most of them are middle aged dudes with far too much money on their hands so he should’ve anticipated this. What he’d thought might’ve scared the other bidders off had only made them more desperate as the numbers only went into higher and higher millions. And so with a big sigh he threw his paddle up again and shouted “TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY MILLION!!!”

The host and the audience were stunned. “T-two hundred and fifty… million? I don’t think we’ve ever had a bid that high on one person before.” The host muttered before quickly trying to regain his composure. “Going once!” He began. “Going Twice! Any last competitor’s?!” There was a brief moment of silence and… nothing. “Sold! To the handsome gentleman in the grey suit!” He announced proudly with wonder in his voice.

Damian practically fell back into his seat, grateful that he didn’t have to increase his bid any higher. “Fuck this had better be worth it…” he grumbled to himself before resigning to sit through the remaining men on stage.

After that the bidding returned to normal. The host continued down the line of remaining hunks on the stage as each of them sold for a decent price around a million or so but none bothered to bid much higher. After all, everyone could tell Darius was the biggest prise to be won, literally, and Damian had already secured that bag. And so it wasn’t long before the tenth and final man in line was sold meaning the show could continue on to its next phase.

“Alright everyone! That’s all of our professionals tonight!” The host announced. “They’ll all be ready and waiting for those of you that one the bids but before that we have our second wave of men!” With that the professional made their way off stage to make room for the next group. Moments later ten more men were escorted on stage by the security. Like the professionals they were clad in nothing but speedos however, unlike the professionals, not all of them had huge sculpted physiques to show off. Two of them had decently impressive bodies but the rest varied. Some of them just looked average while a couple were slightly overweight. One of them was just a straight up bear with how huge and hairy he was. “Here we have tonight’s criminal selection! As previously mentioned these are men who’ve been ordered to be here by the court as part of their sentences which means anything is up for grabs!” It wasn’t surprising to Vince that this group had to be practically dragged on stage. There was no way in hell they wanted to be here but then again it was their own faults…

The bidding began with the host introducing the first criminal in line but Vince wasn’t the least bit interested. He’d already gotten what he came for so he pretty much just zoned out for the rest of the bidding. Most of the criminals had much lower starting bids than the professionals due to them not being in quite as peak physical condition. The two fittest men out of the group certainly had the highest bids to begin with them both starting at 100K. The bearish man however, though his starting bid was relatively low at around 40K, the audience got surprisingly competitive. In the end he was sold for a whopping Eight Million. Vince supposed some people in the crowd were quite eager to look a little more butch…

Eventually the tenth man of the criminal group was sold, much to Vince and every other winner’s delight. “And with that, the bidding part of tonight’s event comes to close!” The host stated. “Those of you who won the bids, please allow members of our staff to escort you to where you need to be. Everyone else feel free to help yourselves to the buffet. There’s plenty of food and drinks that are all on the house as a thank you from us for attending tonight!”

Vince got up from his chair and made his way over towards a group of staff with the other winners. The staff checked the numbers and each winner’s paddle to make sure everything was in order. Once that was taken care of they were led through a pair of double doors and down a long corridor with ten rooms on each side. Rooms 1A and 1B came first, on the left and right of the corridor respectively. The winner of the first professional bid was taken into 1A while the winner of the first criminal bid was taken into 1B. This pattern continued down the hallway with winners being taken into rooms that corresponded with whichever bid they’d won until they finally reached rooms 6A and 6B.

“Right this way sir.” One of the staff kindly ushered Vince towards 6A while the remaining winners continued down the hallway. Once inside he was shocked by the large futuristic looking machine that took up most of the room. It was a massive device that was connected to two chairs, both of which seemed to have some kind of helmet above them that was directly wired to the machine. He’d never seen anything quite like it… and they had at least twenty of these things?? It was only then that he finally noticed Darius, the gigantic hunk he’d won in the bid. He’d been sat patiently waiting since the professional bid ended and was eager to get up and greet Vince.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr…?” Darius began, holding out a large hand.

“Mr Hamlin. But you can just call me Vince.” The rich man responded before shaking Darius’s hand. “So I assume you’ve done this before?”

“Once yeah. A couple years ago.” Darius confirmed. “It didn’t hurt or anything. You just feel a bit weird for a while after as you try to adjust.” He explained rather nonchalantly. “And thank you by the way. I never imagined someone would bid that much for me. I know the organisers take 40% but that’s still one hundred and fifty million my way… I can’t thank you enough.”

Vince smirked as his eyes scanned over the hulking man’s form once again. “Your body is all the thanks I need.” He then turned his attention to the staff in the room with them. “So what’s next?” He asked. The staff explained that all they needed to do now was agree on what was being transferred. After that they just needed to get seated and the machine would do the rest.

“So what’s it gonna be?” The hunk prompted, taking a couple steps back to allow Vince a chance to take in everything that was up for offer.

“Your muscle. I want as much of it as you can give.” Vince didn’t hesitate for a second. He knew exactly what he wanted and who could blame him. Darius was a monster with how massive he was. “It’s always been a dream of mine to be huge like you. I’ve worked out a lot over the years but I’ve always struggled to put on any decent size. But now… suddenly it’s all possible.” Vince had to try and stop himself from salivating over the pure adonis before him. If he hadn’t been imagining having all that muscle for himself, he’d have been picturing himself fucking Darius’s huge muscle ass instead. If he didn’t have so much restraint he’d certainly have a boner right now.

Darius didn’t mind the lustful stares the other man was giving him. He wasn’t gay but, with how much this guy was paying him, he couldn’t really complain. “Yeah I figured you’d say that. I am pretty huge huh?” He gave one of arms a quick flex. “Was there anything else you had in mind?”

Vince thought about it for a second as he looked up at the giant before him. That’s when it hit. “How about some of your height as well? I’m 5’10 but I’ve always wanted to know what it feels like to be over 6 foot and you look like you’ve got plenty to spare.”

He wasn’t wrong. Last he’d checked Darius was about 6’5 and was usually one of, if not, *the* tallest man in a room. “Depends. How much you thinkin’?”

“How does 5 inches sound?”

Darius went back and forth in his head for a moment. 5 inches wasn’t too much right? He’d still be about 6 foot afterwards… “Alright, fine. 5 inches. But no more!” Darius put his foot down on that. He might’ve been getting paid a lot but he wasn’t about to drop down to 5’11 or below. He was a tall fucker and he wanted it to stay that way. Thankfully Vince seemed more than satisfied with that.

Just then some of the staff chimed in. “Alright so we’ve got 5 inches of height and as much muscle as can be safely transferred. Is there anything else you want to request, Mr Hamlin?” Some of them were already inputting settings into the machine regarding his previous requests.

Vince thought for a second. Tall and muscular, what more could he want? He was about to say that was all until his eyes nestled onto Darius’s bulge. “Well… I know on stage you said it was off limits but I was wondering…”

“Nope. Not happening.” Darius didn’t even need to hear the rest to know exactly what Vince was about to ask. “Sorry man. My girl doesn’t care how huge and buff I am but she loves my big dick. Can’t help you I’m afraid.”

For a moment Vince thought of offering Darius a little extra money in exchange but he could tell just by the look on the hunks face that it wasn’t going to happen. Or at least Darius wasn’t going to agree with it anyway. Luckily for Vince he had a backup plan… “Oh alright. Just muscle and height it is.” He waved his hands about a little before turning to the staff. “I suppose we’re ready now.”

Once all was decided both Darius and Vince were made to sign a few documents confirming that they both consented to the transfer and that Vince would pay his fee afterwards or would be reprimanded accordingly. And once that was taken care of, they were taken back over to the machine…

As the pair of them were getting strapped into the chairs however, Vince whispered to the man that was doing his chair. “Hey. I’ve got a deal for ya.” As quickly and quietly as possible, Vince proposed that he would give the man and his co-workers in the room a hefty amount of money if they agreed to transfer some of Darius dick size to him. The man gave him an awkward look for a second, his moral compass clearly being challenged, but soon enough he agreed.

Before long both Vince and Darius had the helmets placed on their heads, ready for the transfer. It took quite a while for the machine to actually boot up. Vince could only assume this was due to the staff members negotiating the deal he’d offered. He could only hope they’d make the right decision. Eventually there was a loud engine-like sound as the machine roared to life. For a moment Vince didn’t feel anything besides the buzzing of the huge device behind him so he was taken by surprise when a bolt of energy from the helmet came surging through his body. It was an almost indescribable feeling, as though he was being filled with electricity but instead of being frying him to a crisp it was energising him instead! It felt… exhilarating! So much so that he didn’t even realise the transfer was already taking place.

Slowly but surely Darius’s muscle mass began to decrease. His arms getting smaller, his huge chest deflating, his legs shrinking. With every second that passed he lost more and more size. All of that muscle he’d worked tirelessly to gain swiftly vanished along with all the strength that came along with it. All of it being converted into pure energy that was processed by the machine. Before long Darius was a far cry of his former self, looking thin lanky rather than imposing.

Of course all that energy had to go somewhere and that place was Vince. As soon as the machine had finished absorbing Darius’s muscle, it began pumping all of that energy into Vince’s body. He felt it immediately. A burgeoning power growing inside him. Gradually his body started to inflate with new muscle. His biceps and triceps expanding with newfound size as his back and chest started to broaden. Even his thighs and calves began to thicken significantly by the second. Before long ripping sounds could be heard coming from Vince’s suit.

His jacket was the first to give in as the sleeves started to tear under the pressure of his growing shoulders and biceps. The sound alone was music to his ears. Vince couldn’t actually see what was going on due to the helmet but the tearing of his clothes was a good indicator of how big he was getting! His upper body continued to broaden and expand, causing his jacket to pretty much explode apart at this point, revealing the already ripping shirt underneath which no doubt wouldn’t last long. But before it had the chance, his quads had the honour of bursting through his suit pants in all their glory, their sheer mass not wanting to be contained any longer. And not a moment later the top button on his pants came flying off as well as his hips and waist grew thicker. But not as thick as his ass. Vince’s once average butt ballooned to a colossal size, practically elevating him in his chair with its mass and giving him a nice round bubble butt just like Darius once had. Soon after he couldn’t help but let out a grunt as his chest heaved forwards, two massive pecs forming at last and being the final straw that caused his shirt to tear apart at last.

But of course just because Vince’s clothes were in tatters didn’t mean the growth was about to stop there. His body kept expanding, growing even larger with muscle. His thighs had grown so thick that it was impossible for them to not rub against one another. And that’s not to mention how ridiculously swole his upper body now looked. By the time the machine had finally run out of energy to pump into Vince’s body, his muscles looked engorged with unbelievable size and strength. No wonder since it was cramming all the muscle of a 6’5 man into 5’10 body. He was so swole now he’d hardly be able to move properly. But of course that had been accounted for and was about to change with the next transfer.

The machine returned its attention to Darius once again, sucking even more energy out of him. Only this time instead of taking his muscle, it was slowly shrinking his body in another way. His limbs and torso all diminished until his height had reduced its way down to 6 foot exactly. On the plus side for Darius, his body didn’t look quite lanky now as it had moments ago.

Of course once this was done the energy was once again redirected towards Vince. He felt the energy filling him once again, only this time it felt a little different. Instead of expanding, he felt himself stretching out instead! His arms and legs all grew longer as his height increased, finally coming to a haunt once Vince reached an impressive 6’3. Simultaneously the muscle he’d gained moments prior was now able to spread itself out a little bit better across his larger frame.

Now was the moment of truth. Had that bribe been enough to get Vince the last thing he wanted? There was silence for a moment as if the staff were still debating amongst themselves on what to do. For a second Vince was worried his little plan had failed. That is until the machine roared to life one more time…

“Hey uhhh… sorry you two but we just need to make sure there’s no ummm… imbalance between you two before we shut this thing down.” Said a voice over the speaker.

Darius was of course none the wiser but Vince knew exactly what that meant. Slowly and carefully so that he wouldn’t notice, the machine started sucking more energy out of Darius. Unbeknownst to the professional, his penis was gradually getting smaller until it had lost about 3 inches of its size. When the machine turned on Vince however, it made the transfer nice and fast. Within second he felt his cock inflate, going from an average 5 inch cock to an impressive 8 incher with some added girth to top it off. The rich, conniving man couldn’t help but grin maliciously.

A few minutes later the transfer machine was powered down properly before the staff returned to remove the helmets. As soon as they did, Vince looked down at himself in wonder. His body. It was everything he’d ever dreamed. Gigantic in every sense of the word with bulging muscle all over! He then glanced over at Darius who looked tiny in comparison. The intimidating bodybuilder he once was now replaced by an average skinny looking dude.

As soon as his restraints were removed, Vince tore away the remaining shreds of clothes leaving him in nothing but his dress shoes, socks and underwear. The latter of which was struggling against all hell to contain his cock and ass right now. But he wasn’t concerned about that right now. All he cared about was how fucking massive he was!

The very first thing Vince did was lift his hands up to grope his pecs, squeezing the muscle with pure wonder. They felt so soft yet when he tensed his pecs they became firm and hard. After that he bent forwards slightly and flexed both his arms together, feeling as they bulged with strength. His biceps looked like mountains on his arms as they peaked with insane size that not many would be able to match. And his lats… they were enormous! Even pushing his huge arms permanently out to the sides, giving him more of a natural alpha stance. It was incredible. He *felt* incredible!

Before Vince could continue exploring his god-like build however, one of the staff members stepped up carrying a pair of large black boxer briefs, some white joggers and a huge black t-shirt. “We figured you might want a change of clothes before you leave Mr Hamlin. We always have backups.”

The rich Adonis smirked before taking the clothes. “Thanks. I had such a one track mind towards getting this muscle that I hadn’t even considered my clothes.” He glanced down at the remains of his suit strewn across the floor. “Sorry about that by the way.”

“It’s no problem at all sir. We’ve found most people actually prefer keeping their clothes on during a muscle transfer so they can rip out of them anyway. We assumed that’s why you didn’t undress.”

Without another word, Vince pulled down his insanely tight underwear from before and kicked them onto the floor. The staff turned away but not before getting a glance at Vince's huge cock swinging free. It seemed that despite his self control, he was still rocking a semi. Of course the new hunk couldn’t help smirking at this, knowing full well his cock already looked bigger semi-erect right now than it did fully hard before. He didn’t dwell on it too much though. After all, Darius was still in the room. Instead he just pulled up the briefs and joggers he’d been offered, loving how despite their huge size, they still fit him perfectly. He did however decide to keep the t-shirt off for now. He wanted to savour this a little longer…

Meanwhile, as Vince marched over towards a mirror to admire himself further, Darius stood looking down at his thin lanky body. He hadn’t been this skinny since he was a teenager. The last time he did a muscle transfer, the other guy already had a decent but of muscle himself so the transfer wasn’t too crazy. But now? Lord knows how long it was gonna take him to put all that size back on. “Well… back to square one I guess.” He huffed, looking over at the rich white dude across the room who was now enjoying all his hard work. He couldn’t be mad. After all, he was getting an insane amount of money for this. But still. It just felt weird seeing himself like this.

The now miniature sized bodybuilder made his way over towards Vince who had now begun poses and flexing in the mirror, enamoured by his new reflection. Even watching as he pulled down the joggers for a second to get a look at how juicy his new muscle ass was and judging by Vince's reaction, he wasn’t disappointed. “Hey man. Lookin pretty swole! You’re happy with the transfer I take it?” Darius questioned, keeping a positive attitude.

Vince turned to face Darius with a cocky smirk. “Oh you have no idea. It feels even better than I could’ve imagined. Happy would be an understatement.” He confirmed, flexing again. He also couldn’t help but relish in the fact that he was now the one looking down at Darius thanks to the height transfer. “Thank you Darius. I promise you I’ll take good care of all this.” He vowed before extending a hand out.

“You better. I certainly didn’t sculpt all that muscle so a rich white guy could waste it away.” Darius half-joked as he clasped the other man’s hand and shook it firmly.

As they shook Vince couldn’t help but grin inwardly. Darius still hadn’t noticed the extra dick transfer he got the staff the throw in. Not that it mattered if he did because soon enough he’d get the staff to erase the info on the dick transfer from any of the transfer machine’s data logs. By the time Darius realises what’s happened, he’ll have no way to prove it as all the staff in the room will be sworn to secrecy with Vince’s money. It was slightly evil, he knew that. But how could Vince pass up the chance to fuck and dominate dudes not only with all this muscle but with an even longer and fatter cock too! Besides he needs bigger equipment to match his bigger body right!?

The staff then took some time to go over a few details with the men. Listing possible side effects and what to maybe expect post transfer such as headaches and mild nausea for the first 24 hours while their bodies adjust. Vince was hardly listening though, only focusing on how fucking jacked he was now. Once they were done with the formalities however, they said the pair of them were free to either leave or join the rest of the attendees at the buffet.

At last Vince slipped on his t-shirt, adoring how it clung desperately to his giant pecs while the sleeves struggled to hold his biceps. With that he made his way out to the buffet where some of the other winners were already being admired after their own transfers. There were a few others who’d buffed up considerably as well as a few that seemed to have gotten younger with an age transfer no doubt. He even saw the guy who’d bidded on the bearish criminal and sure enough he was covered in thick manly body hair now as he was proudly displaying through his slightly unbuttoned shirt. Not to mention the huge bushy beard he now adorned.

The moment someone noticed Vince however, everyone stopped and looked. His transformation was the most insane of them all and it was no surprise considering who he’d won on the bid. Within moments the attendees and other winners alike came over to ask him how it felt and what it was like. All of them seemingly blown away by his transferral. Of course Vince revelled in the attention and it was now easier than ever to pick out the other gay men from the crowd by the way some of them looked at him.

The rest of his evening was spent being admired and complimented on his new body. It gave Vince a sense of confidence and cockiness he’d never experienced before but he couldn’t deny how much he loved it. He was frequently asked to flex his biceps by the increasingly drunk attendee’s and some people had even asked him to pick them up off the ground to which he did with ease. He even learnt how to bounce his pecs to his and everyone else’s delight. One very drunk dude even made a comment about how he wanted to shove his face between Vince’s juicy pecs. A wish that Vince was happy to grant as he pulled the guy in for a hug and made sure to squish the dude's face between the two slabs of meat on his chest. After which Vince even gave the guy his number so they could maybe meet up another time when he wasn’t so drunk.

Eventually the night came to an end and everyone piled out of the event, eager to get home. On his drive home, Vince couldn’t help thinking about everything he was going to do now. Besides checking himself out every morning he was going to love the attention he was gonna get every time he walked into a room from now on. He was also going to have a ton of fun buying new clothes to fit his gigantic physique. Not to mention how empowering it was going to feel to be the biggest guy at the gym from now on as he works to maintain all this. And most of all he couldn’t wait to get some hot guys to worship all his muscle before he fucks their brains out. He already knew he’d be pounding the guy he gave his number to in the near future. Maybe he could get ahold of the dude that took the bear criminal’s hairiness as well. The dude had definitely been making eyes at him. He was already pretty good looking before but now with all that body hair he looked gorgeous. Vince couldn’t help Imagining how good those bearded lips would feel around his fat cock…

Regardless Vince knew that he was gonna have the time of his life being the muscle beast from now. He reached down and groped his now fully hard cock through his joggers, smiling as he felt a full 8 inches of thick man meat down there. Oh yeah he had A LOT of self worshiping to do when he got home.

More Transfer Auction stories coming in the future!

If you love what I write here on tumblr then please consider tipping me via Patreon! Any support means the world to me!

[withwritersblock]

The Fall of Home

~The Fall of Home by Los Campesinos!~

Author's Note: idk honestly it's mostly word vomit ngl Italics are flashbacks Summary: Nate wins the cup and needs his childhood best friend to celebrate with him Warnings: Swearing, implied smut, shouting Word Count: 3,990 Nathan Mackinnon x fm!reader

She sat on the couch watching the dying minutes of the Stanley Cup finals. She watched Nate push Gabe towards the bench, her heart beating hard against her chest. It was t0o close. Not enough to feel as though they had done it. The Avalanche jersey covering her frame had Mackinnon on the back. It was Nate’s old jersey from his first few years in the league before the Avs switched to their new ones. 

Her childhood best friend had done it as the last ten seconds of the game the puck was in the Avs offensive zone.

It was like watching in slow motion as she watched the bench itch with anticipation as the clock winded down from five seconds. The buzzer goes off and the entire team throws their gear everywhere as they cheer and scatter on the ice. Her hands cover her mouth as her eyes well up in tears.

It had been his dream since the second Nate realized what hockey was. She watched him pretend to lift the cup on the lake behind his house countless times. Now in mere minutes she would get to see it done in real life. Except it is on her TV. 

Her fiance smiled widely as he hugged her side. “The cups coming back to Scotia!” Daniel mumbled as he kissed the side of her cheek. She smiled politely as she stared at the screen seeing Nate on the screen.

Daniel didn’t know that Nate and herself grew up next door to each other or that he was her first kiss. Or the first person he called after he got drafted first overall. Or the fact that they act like they're in a relationship every time they see each other again. Cuddling, kissing, dinner with each other’s parents.

And sex. A lot of it.

Except Nate hasn’t been home in two years. His family has gone and visited him in Colorado instead. She visited him once in Denver and stayed with him, in the same bed. Except nothing happened between them because of Daniel. Daniel entered her life during a difficult time. It was two months before COVID really went rampant. They went COVID crazy and moved in together right when the lockdown happened. His idea.

Nate stayed in Colorado, despite many of his teammates using the time to visit and stay with their families. But she had Daniel. She didn’t need Nate.

Except she still missed him as the months progressed and the further they had time apart it was as if the feelings she had for him were getting less and less suppressed. But he had a new life, new people, new and better successes. Hell. He just won the Stanley Cup. 

She even had a new life. Sure, it was still in the same community she grew up in but she had Daniel and a life that she’s supposed to be happy about.

“Are you crying?” Daniel questioned, a small furrow in his eyebrows. She shifted her gaze towards him for a brief second as she blinked rapidly. She looked back towards the screen to see Nate get handed the cup.

“Cole Harbour, you got another cup!” the announcer shouted as Nate shook the cup in the air with a wide smile on his features. She hasn’t seen him smile so wide since he was drafted.

“It’s just-look at ‘em,” she was referring to Nate.

“Yeah, they’d deserved it from the beginning,” Daniel said as he stood up from the couch to get another beer. 

She watched as Nate handed it off to Jack Johnson, a player who’s waited over a thousand games to achieve this. She tilted her head back as she wiped the tear that fell onto her cheek.

~~~

It had been several hours later and multiple Instagram story reels that have kept her up as she watched the team celebrate. She remained on the couch, a glass of wine in her hand. Her phone screen lit up with a call coming from Nate. She furrowed her eyebrows harshly as his contact photo popped on the screen. It was a picture of them back in his Halifax days. He was kissing her cheek, sweaty and still in his jersey.

Pulling the phone to her ear, it was loud on his end of the phone. “Y/N!” Nate shouted, “I need you in Denv-ver, when I get there tomorrow!” he shouted. He sounded blacked out. She smiled to herself, happy to hear his voice. His voice was practically gone but it was still amazing to hear. “I need to see you, we’ve got to-to celebrate,” he slurred. 

“Ask me again tomorrow,” she said laughing, “Enjoy your night Nathan,” she said, getting ready to hang up.

“Wait! Wait,” he chuckled, “I’m sorry you couldn’t come to Tampa, I wanted you here so bad,” he explained, the words taking forever to leave his lips. “Bu-but you’ve got a fi-fiance,”

Her features scrunched together as his voice was rasped as he was fighting hard to get the words out. “What does Daniel have to do with-”

“Because-” he hiccuped, “Because he has you and I don’t,” he let out. Her eyes widened as the words left his lips. Her stomach began to do flips as the words played in her mind on repeat.

“Because he has you and I don’t,”

“Because he has you and I don’t,”

“Because he has you and I don’t,”

“Oh dude, come on! Give me the phone, Nate! Give it to me. We said no drunk calling!” Erik’s voice rang out on Nate’s end of the phone. “Sorry, Y/N. He’ll call tomorrow when he’s sober!” Erik’s voice was closer to the phone as he spoke.

“Oh okay,” she mumbled as the phone call ended. Her hand began to shake as she pulled the phone from her ear. What the hell did he mean by that? 

It was hard to take anything he said seriously because he was drunk, he probably won’t even remember calling her. She brought her wine glass to her lips as she drank it all in one swig.

She lifted her gaze from her lap to the sound of loud footsteps coming from her hallway. “Baby, we’ve gotta get up early for that thing with your parents tomorrow. Remember? Come get some sleep,” Daniel said, his voice groggy from probably just waking up. 

She met his eye, praying for an ounce of butterflies or a feeling in her chest that told her he was the one. Or the spark that everyone talks about when you meet your soulmate. But nothing came out of it. She took a deep breath as she nodded, “Yeah, I’ll-” she cleared her throat, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“So, things are pretty serious with him,” Nate mumbled as he messed with his fingernails, avoiding her gaze. She hummed as a reply as she avoided meeting his gaze. 

She was laying in his king sized bed in his apartment in Denver, contemplating on why she decided staying with him was better than a hotel. Because all she wanted to do right now was kiss him. It’s been three hundred and forty three days since she last kissed him and she missed the feeling of his lips on hers. 

“Why didn’t he come with you to visit me?” he asked, turning his gaze to her trying to read her features. She pulled her lips between her teeth as her eyes widened slightly. She took a sharp breath before looking towards him, her eyes landed on his bright blue eyes. His eyes were slightly swollen as he was recovering from a broken nose still from a few weeks back. 

“He doesn’t know that we’re friends,” the last word difficult to leave her lips, “He just thinks that I’m on a trip with friends to Denver to see a few games,” she explained. Nate fought off a smirk on his lips as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

“How’s your mom keeping that secret? If I remember correctly all our childhood photos together are all over the living room,” he said, raising his eyebrows. 

She chuckled as she inched towards him, slightly. “My brother decided to have four kids in the span of three years. So she replaced all of our photos with my niece and nephews.” 

Nate let out a huff of air as he shook his head, “I don’t envy him. Triplets, right?” he asked and she nodded.

“They’re adorable, but a handful,” she muttered.

She met his gaze as she took a deep breath. He smiled softly as he adjusted the pillow under his head. “Is he a Penguins fan or Avs fan?” Nate asked, referring to Daniel. It was common in their small community to be either a Pittsburgh Penguins fan for Sydney or a Colorado Avalanche fan for Nate. 

She scrunched her features together and Nate’s hand hit his chest like a fake dagger. “You couldn’t find an Avs fan to date?”

She rolled her eyes playfully as she laid onto her back, forcing her gaze to the ceiling. “You should get some sleep,” she muttered. 

Nate laid facing her still, admiring every detail about her. The way her hair laid across his pillow. The curve of her lips and the flutter of her eyelashes. “Y/N,” he let out barely above a whisper, his heart racing. She turned her head to meet his gaze. His eyes trail from her eyes to her lips. Needing to kiss her but he couldn’t. Nate was not one to make moves on someone else’s girlfriend. 

But this was Y/N. She was everything he’s ever wanted. Even down to the fake wedding they had when they were nine, it was the first time they kissed. They were nine, kisses at that age barely count but it was the first of many. 

She met his gaze, pursing her lips forward slightly as she watched his eyes flicker between her lips and her eyes. “He’s lucky to have you,” he let out finally. She smiled softly, “But I’ll beat the shit out of him if he hurts you,” 

“You would knock him out with one punch, he’s not very strong,” she muttered as he chuckled.

The next morning she was woken up by Daniel shoving her awake, “Wake up,” he mumbled as he began pacing in their bedroom. She rubbed her hand across her eyes as she was adjusting to the sudden touch to her body. “What the fuck is this?” he asked, shoving his phone into her face, she pulled her hand away as she stared towards the Facebook post that her mom shared early this morning. 

It was hard to read as his hands were shaking, “What-”

“What the fuck is this?” he asked again, dropping his phone onto her chest. She furrowed her eyebrows as she looked over the Facebook post. 

The caption said  From the lake behind our houses to the big stage! Our family couldn’t be more proud. Can’t wait to see the cup in your hands this time! #GoAvsGo #NateDogg

She cringed at the wording but her breath caught in her throat as she saw the collection of photos she added. Each photo shows Nate with her family. Majority of them with Nate and Y/N cuddling cozy and even one of them with him kissing her cheek. “Daniel, I can explain,” she said as she began to stand up from the bed.

“How fucking long were you going to keep this a secret?” he accused as she dropped his phone onto the mattress. Her mouth opened as she tried to find words to say. There was nothing to say. “I mean his contact photo in your phone is him kissing you!” 

“Wait, you went through my phone?” she countered as she looked at her phone in his hands. 

“No, he called you and I saw the picture. I mean, is the jersey you wore last night his? Like off of his fucking back?”

“I never wanted to lie or keep it from you. What was I supposed to say? Oh by the way, my best friend growing up is now this super famous athlete, I never see anymore.” she expressed. 

“He’s not your best friend, all these fucking pictures your mom posted is you two looking coupley. This one is from a year ago when you were in Denver, I mean what the actual fuck. Have you been cheating on me?” 

“What no! Will you stop shouting and sit down and have a conversation?” she countered. He shook his head while taking a deep breath. He reluctantly sat down beside her on the bed, refusing to meet her eye.

There was silence for a moment, “Nate and I grew up beside each other. We were born four months apart, our parents are best friends. He was my first friend. We had a weird relationship,” she hesitantly looked towards him, he was still fuming. “We were never in  a romantic relationship but,” she let out a huff of air, “Sometimes it felt like we were?” 

“I haven’t seen him since the last time I was in Denver, and nothing happened between us. He knows about you and Nate would never even try anything,” she explained. He shook his head.

“So what? You guys have had sex?” he questioned. Her mouth clamped open and shut and he groaned. “I can’t believe you’ve kept this from me!”

“He’s my past, Daniel, he doesn’t matter!”

“But he was a huge part of it! And clearly still is! He’s called you like four times!” he let out as he stood up from the bed. “And you know what, I don’t want to be with someone who keeps such a massive part of their life secret. I’ll move my stuff out by tomorrow,” he expressed, furious. He took a hold of his phone and stormed out of the bedroom.

“Daniel!?” she called out. She let out a huff of air before switching her gaze to her phone that was now lying on the floor.

“You look at those fucking photos and tell me how to feel!” Daniel shouted again. “I can’t compete!” he said before he left.

She tried to feel something for Daniel leaving. Her body was stiff as her mind was racing with thoughts of Nate. Instead of Daniel. She was wrong. He does matter. He always has and despite all of the time apart, he was still so important to her. 

~one week later~

She laid in the bed that she once shared with Daniel. He moved out the next day from the apartment after several more fights regarding Nate. He took the ring from her finger and threw it out of the window. Y/N knows she should’ve told Daniel about Nate. It was easier having him be a celebrity in her life than someone she loved. Someone she loved in more ways than one.

She’s spoken to Nate every day since they won. He would call twice. Once in the morning to recap the drunken things he would say well into the night. His drinking slowed down as the weeks progressed but he’s been celebrating every day since. Each night he would call and beg her to come see him in Denver. Every night she would consider it until she would realize he was too drunk to remember. She’d always leave it out the next day they’d talk.

She laid naked beside him as she traced her manicured finger along his chest. Tracing each line of his muscle, each outline. His hand fluttered his fingertips along her skin. He would trace his index finger from the base of her neck in a zig zag to her lower back.

“When do you go back to Denver?” she questioned barely above a whisper. He took a few seconds to reply as he continued the pattern on her back. 

“Tuesday,” he let out, shifting his gaze from the ceiling to her. She lifted her head to look down towards him. She leaned down and pressed her lips against his softly. He lifted his other hand from his side and rested it onto her cheek. “This might be the last time I’m back here for a while,” he let out as he stroked his thumb across her skin. 

She raised her eyebrows teasing as she pecked his lips, “Let’s make the most of it then,” she muttered between kisses. He smirked into the kiss.

It was sensual and slow, something they’ve perfected over the years as if they know exactly what the other person wanted. Nate pulled away from her lips, resting his forehead against hers. “I’ve missed you a lot,” he said as his hand on her cheek moved to the base of her neck. She opened her eyes to meet his gaze. Her cheeks heated up as she smiled.

“Me too,” she mumbled as he leaned towards her, kissing her.

She shook her head as her phone began to vibrate beside her, she lifted her phone up to see Nate was calling her. She took a deep breath as she put the phone to her ear. “Hi,” she mumbled.

“Come to Denver,” Nate said simply. His voice groggy as if he hasn’t spoken much yet. Pulling her head back against the pillow, she scrunched her features together.

“What?”

“I know you and Daniel broke up, I don’t know why you won’t tell me about it. But all I know is that I’ve been trying to see you because my dream has just happened and I want my best friend to be with me. The other half of this conversation can’t happen over the phone, so please come to Denver. Don’t make me wait till I bring the Cup home, please,” he let out as if he’s rehearsed it. 

She was stunned. Her eyes blinked slowly as she swallowed hard. “How’d you know about Daniel?” she asked, ignoring the rest for now.

“Y/N, our mother’s still live next to each other and they talk a lot. Come to Denver, I’ll book your flight. I just really need to see you,” 

“Okay,” she let out faster than how her mind could process anything.

“How fast can you get to the airport? I want to give you enough time to pack and get ready,”

~~~

She was walking through the airport in Denver trying to find Nate. It took about thirty minutes for her to find him sitting near the passenger pick up doors. He lifted his head, as if he could sense she was close to him. 

She stopped as she saw him stand slowly from his seat, shoving his phone into his pocket. He was glowing. It’s been over a year since she last saw him in person but her entire skin began tingly when she saw him as every moment between them played in her mind like a flipbook. 

Every kiss. Every intimate moment. Every conversation. Hockey games she wore his jersey to. Her graduation from university he flew from Denver to see. Their very first kiss at nine years old, their fake wedding. 

She walked towards him and he began walking towards her. Once they met, she let go of her suitcase and her carry-on bag and jumped into his arms as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist as he squeezed her tightly against his chest. He took a sharp breath, breathing in her floral perfume. Her hand rested on the base of his neck, running her fingers through the small pieces of his hair.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he muttered into her ear before she slowly pulled away from him, his hands remaining on her hips.

“I just spent way too many hours on two airplanes, don’t lie to me,” she muttered as she met his eyes. They were brighter as well as his smile. He was happier than he’s ever been. 

“Still beautiful,” he mumbled as he pulled her against his chest again. 

~~~

It had been a few hours since she got to Nate’s apartment. She had showered and got rid of the airport smell from her body and they were now sitting on his couch watching an action movie he had picked out. They were quiet but there was a looming tension between them. 

“What happened with Daniel?” Nate asked, keeping his gaze on the screen, trying to avoid looking towards her. She dropped her gaze to her lap, the conversation they’ve been avoiding.

“The day after you guys won the cup, my mom had posted something on Facebook,” she said as she let out a huff of air.

“I saw, it was nice,” he mumbled, Y/N fought off a smile.

“He felt blindsided because he didn’t know that we knew each other. Or knew each other that well and you had called a few times before I woke up and he saw my contact photo for you,” she paused again.

“He claimed I was cheating on him with you and he thought when I visited you in Denver that I cheated on him with you. He then threw my engagement ring out of the window and stormed out. Stayed with my mom that night so he could get his stuff out of my apartment,” 

“What the fuck? He threw your ring out of the window? That’s a dickhead move,” he said while shaking his head.

“I mean, not telling him about us was a dickhead move too, Nate,” 

“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell him,” Nate muttered, shifting his gaze to her. She tilted her head to the side as her lips fell into a pout as her eyes lowered to his lips before she met his gaze again.

“What did you mean when you said ‘he has you and I don’t’?” she asked him. His eyes widened as he pressed his lips together.

“You remembered that?” he asked. She nodded. “I’ve always thought one day we’d end up together, married with like four kids or something. I always thought one day I could convince you to move to Denver with me. Or after I retired we’d start a life together. But you started dating Daniel. I realized I waited too long. And I was going to go back to Halifax during those first months of COVID. But you were with Daniel, I couldn’t be around you and him. So I stayed in Denver.”

“And then he proposed and I lost my chance. I lost my chance because I wasn’t going to make a move on you when you were with him. So, I thought that if we stayed apart, I stopped visiting home, these feelings would just go away. It’s worse, Y/N.” he muttered as he scooted closer to her, forcing their faces to be near inches apart.

“I think sappy romantic stuff is bullshit. But Y/N, you’re my soulmate. I’m in love with you, have been in love with you long before I even knew what love meant,” he rested his hand on her cheek, “At fucking nine years old, I knew who I wanted to marry and seventeen years later I still know who I want to marry. It’s always been you.”

She delicately rested her hand on his chest as she smiled, “I can’t believe you did that math so fast,” she teased. He rolled his eyes playfully.

“Shut up,” he muttered before he pressed his lips against hers urgently. She returned the kiss quickly as she climbed onto his lap, straddling him as her hands were holding his cheeks.

“I was scared,” she muttered as she pulled away, “I was scared that you’d become this famous athlete and forget about me. So I pulled away,” she mumbled before pecking his lips. “I’m in love with you too.”

He smiled as he kissed her again. “Best fucking year,” he let out.

[outsideratheart]

I’ll be in the stands (Stina Blackstenius x reader)

A/N: This is set in the same universe as Very Important Person. Based off this request. I’m not sure how I feel about this one but I hope you all like it.

Wimbledon. It was the most iconic two weeks of the year. After Australia you had been playing the best tennis of your career so it made sense that you were one of the favourites going into the tournament. 

“Stina, I’m leaving” you shout up to your girlfriend. 

After supporting you in Paris, Stina invited you to join her on a friends trip then she travelled to London to support you before going to New Zealand for the World Cup. She had attended Roland Garros with your parents who unfortunately couldn’t make it to London which left two spare tickets. You gave them to your girlfriend who chose to bring Frido and Magda. 

“Good luck. I’ll see you on centre court” she shouted back down, no doubt still picking out what to wear. 

The Swedish Women had really enjoyed embracing the fashion at Wimbledon and spent most mornings working out who is going to wear what. Today would be their last game before leaving for camp in New Zealand. You had your fourth round game to play and then if you win you would be playing your quarter game whilst they were in the air. 

Dressed in white you walked onto the legendary centre court ready to fight for a spot in the next round. You had done your research on your opponent and knew how she would play and more importantly how to beat her. It’s why it comes as no surprise that you win the first set 6-2 and the second set 6-3.

As you thank the crowd your look lingers on the row that hold the three blondes with one of them capturing your attention more than the other two. You bring the S pendant on your necklace to your lips. After she gave you it for Valentine’s Day you never took it off and would kiss it after every match you played.

“Do you think she will win?” Frido asks.

“I do”

Stina had more faith in you that you did in yourself and whilst you loved her for it, it also added to the pressure because you didn’t want to let her down. The mental strength needed to be a tennis player was hard to explain to people outside the sport. Stina had watched you lose matches, not because your opponent out played you, because you lost your head a gave point after point away. 

The next morning the atmosphere in the house was full of sorrow. The girls were leaving and you wouldn’t see Stina for almost a month. It wasn’t the first time you’d be spending weeks apart but you had gotten used to her company over the past couple of weeks and hated the thought of being away from her.

“Don’t go” you whisper.

You and Stina stood on the doorstep, your arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

“Hjärtat I have to go”

Truth is you weren’t asking her to stay but you do wish her flight could be delayed a day or two.

“I love you, I have faith in you and I love you”

“You already said that” 

“Because I meant it. Good luck for your match, I’ll be watching on the plane”

You found little solace in knowing that Stina would still be supporting you from thousands of miles in the air. As her car drove away you felt emptier than you did just ten minutes ago but you knew that it was time for her to go, she too had a tournament to win.

Stina was a nervous wreck watching your match on the plane. You had won the first set on tie-break and she could tell that you wasn’t happy with your performance. The way you looked over to your box with a lost look on your face told everyone that you didn’t understand why the set went on this long. The second set was long but also ended in tie-break but this time you had lost. You sat in your area with a towel over your head as you tried desperately to gather your emotions. The fans at Wimbledon were known for cheering on the underdog and with you currently being number 2 and your opponent unseeded the entire arena was cheering her on instead of you.

You lost the final set 6-4. 

“She’s going to be ok right?” Frido wound down the window dividing her and Stina’s booth.

“I don’t know” Stina was already sending you a reassuring text “I hope so”

You felt like you let everyone down. Stina’s message brought a momentary smile to your face but then you remember the reason why she sent it and the smile was replaced with a frown.

The Swedish national team had landed in New Zealand 26 hours after your match ended and Stina’s phone remained glued in her hand but she still hadn’t heard anything from you. She tried calling for the 5th time but like every time before that she was met with your voicemail.

“Is she still not picking up?” Magda asked. 

“She does this sometimes. After a big loss she goes dark but she always texts me before doing so to let me know she’s alright”

At first she wasn’t worried but then her phone went off. She rushed to answer it not bothering to look at the caller ID. She assumed it would be you so imagine her surprise when you manager’s voice comes through the phone. She told Stina that you asked her to cancel all media for the next week and since then she couldn’t get a hold of you and she didn’t know where you were.

The team were given the next two days off in hopes that they could get over their jet lag before training starts. Most of the girls had organised to meet up and explore the city but Stina declined their invite.

She was watching Notting Hill on her iPad remembering how you took her there your first day in London before the tournament started. Her favourite scene had just started when heard a knock at the door.

There you stood with some flowers and half a smile on your face. She was just about to talk when you heard the movie playing in the background.

“The fame thing isn’t really real, you know?” And don’t forget i’m also just a girl standing in front of a girl asking her to love me”

You knew the entire movie word for word. It was your comfort film and since meeting you, it had become Stina’s too. Once your finished she flung her arms around you.

“Careful Älskling, someone might think you’ve missed me” 

She was happy to see you joking around but you had her worried sick since the end of the match and now here you are in New Zealand acting as if nothing had happened.

“Where have you been? We have all been really worried about you”

“I’m sorry I didn’t text. I knew I had let you down and I wasn’t ready to face you yet” 

Your joking expression vanished and the look of guilt took its place. 

Stina walked back into her room and laid on the bed.

“Come here” she held her arms open wide.

You laid between her legs with your head resting on her chest. She began tracing patterns on your back and for the first time in days your thoughts became quiet and your mind was calm.

“You could never let me down Y/N. I have learnt that Tennis can be a cruel sport and this week it chose you as one of its victims”

“Hmmm”

“Shall I put this back to the beginning?” She asks referring to the film even though she knew you wouldn’t see much of it. You were bound to be both physically and mentally exhausted. 

The blonde felt your heart beat even out just as Hugh Grant spills coffee over Julia Roberts. When she looks down your eyes are closed. She couldn’t believe you were here with her in New Zealand. She wasn’t sure how long you would be staying for so she chose to savour the moment playing out in front of her. 

A couple of hours pass and whilst Stina’s whole body was starting to go numb, you looked too peaceful to wake so she put on another film secretly hoping that you would wake up soon because she was starting to get hungry. Just as she was strolling through nearby restaurants the door swings open.

“Stina, Y/N’s here” Frido tells her but stops talking when she sees you fast asleep in her team mates arms or so that what she thought.

“We were at this coffee shop down the road and two girls were talking about how they had just met her” Zecira says not noticing you as she goes into the bathroom.

“Shhhh. She’s asleep” Stina scolds her team mates.

“No she’s not” you slowly sat up but not before placing a gentle kiss to your girlfriends lips.

You saw 4 Swedish woman looking at you and the awkward tension could be cut with a knife. All of them had watched the game and then saw the way Stina had been worried about you.

“Sorry you lost” Fillipa says earning a slap from Magda.

“Thanks but at least now I get to watch you girls play for the next month”

“You’re staying for the whole thing? You’re not going to play?” She was both happy that you were staying but also worried about you taking such a long break away from Tennis.

“I am. As for tennis, I think I need to take some time off but I can practice here when I’m ready because the courts are similar to New York”

Stina couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The two of you just looked at each other, waiting for the other to speak. 

“So you Y/N Y/L/N are going to be a WAG?” 

“Yes, Stina Blackstenius I am going to be a WAG. I will wear my highlighter shirt to every game and cheer you on”

[hypermania]

transcript of the full thread:

"A very long thread: To the League fans, We found out this news along with you on Friday. I see the pain and anger and worry out there, which for the LGBTQIA+ fans of the show is of course compounded by what’s happening across the country right now. #ALeagueOfTheirOwn

So the first and most important thing to say is: Before anything, before you fight for the show or each other, please take care of yourselves. Reach out to your community and ask for help if you need it. You aren’t alone. Please be kind to yourselves.

As I’ve been thinking about what’s happened, I come back to a quote from Penny Marshall’s film: “The hard is what makes it great.” Making this show is so hard and so great. There’s quite a bit to say about what’s been hard, but at this point that’s in the past.

Of course, if we have an avenue to do it well, we will continue the show, and I love seeing the noise you’re making in support of that. The noise matters!

And it’s hard for me to imagine there wouldn’t be a home for a show that thanks to you was in the Nielsen Top 10 for three weeks, was the top show on Amazon for a month and in the top five for six, that was recognized by critics as something special, that’s been recognized…

…with awards from GLAAD, HRC and a million other organizations, that was on a million year-end top ten lists, and that has a built in and deeply passionate audience.

Amazon is pursuing different kinds of programming, but to the rest of the world this show is a hit and has huge value and even greater potential. But first things first, we have to win this strike and get a fair deal before we can explore what comes next.

But for a moment, I want to talk about what happens if the world didn’t quite change quickly enough for you to have all the seasons of this show that we want to give you.

If we don’t find a good path forward, I will still know that League did what it came here to do and, in its own small way, changed the world.

And that’s because of all of you, and the light you continue to shine on the show — How you let it matter to you, how you let it become a mirror, how you let it change you.

I’ve never experienced a response to a show that’s as deep, personal, creative and meaningful as what the fans have done with League. When we were making the season 1, we all wondered and worried about whether people would accept it on its own terms next to the film.

They have, and you did that, and so much more. You lit up the internet on your first watch throughs of the show, when you realized where it was going (and made all of us laugh in the process).

You wrote enough fan fiction for 100 novels and created an outpouring of art and creativity that could fill its own museum — I’ve truly never seen anything like it.

You lifted up a 95 year old who had just come out of the closet and made her into a celebrity who gets recognized wherever she goes. Every time any member of the cast appears at anything, you turn it into a convention.

You stop Abbi wherever she goes, and though I’m a happily inconspicuous person, and you constantly find me and stop me and give me gifts that now have a shelf in my house.

When thousands of you appeared to see D’Arcy at the stage door of The Thanksgiving Play over its run, you turned it into the hottest queer bar in New York. You made Max’s suit and Chante’s beautiful performance into a movement.

A mob of you went to Pittsburgh and saw all of our locations. You dressed as the characters and made our characters into one of the biggest halloween costumes of last year.

You came out, you changed pronouns, you started living more openly, you gave sermons in church about the show, you opened bars, and you got a truly mind boggling number of tattoos that say “to the five” and “rob the bank.” What else am I forgetting? I'm sure you'll remind me.

But most importantly, you made a community, you found each other and found joy, which of course is what the show is about. In many more ways than I would ever have let myself imagine while we were making it, you literally bring the show to life every day.

Thank you for making our work mean something bigger. We’ve heard from so many different kinds of people around the world who are watching League.

But, in a time when all queer people are personally and politically under attack across the country and HRC has declared a “state of emergency,” my biggest fear is that the many queer fans of League will take this reversal as one more invalidation, one more blow, one more…

…effect of the general politicization of our identities. Most of us grew up feeling invisible, and as we gain strength, the predictable backlash forces are trying their hardest to get us to go back underground.

In case anyone needs to hear it: You are not small, niche, modest, off-putting or marginal, and neither are your stories. You are multitudes, you are building, and your stories are universal. You are the most rapidly growing audience and consumer group in this country.

You are powerful. You are the future, and the people who don’t recognize your importance now will feel be clamoring to catch up in a few years. As Chante said so beautifully when we received the Human Right Campaign Visionary award, you are the main characters. Be proud.

Be angry if you that’s how you feel, but know that we are going to win, and don’t ever let this moment or any other make you small. The biggest lesson of the characters in this show is that, in a world that had no space for them at all, they LIVED. (Continued)

They found love, they did the things they loved, they won. You’re doing the same thing, and just like them, you are heroes. We are still fighting for League. But whether we win or lose this one, I’m so proud.

From the time when we began working on the season, Abbi, Deta and I said to each other — Let’s not hold anything back, for as long as we get to be here, let’s do this the right way.

We got so many notes wondering if the exploration of the queer world of the 1940s or Max’s world would be better saved for season 2, if people needed to start somewhere a little more familiar. I’m so glad we didn’t listen, cause now I’m sitting here without any regrets.

And no matter what happens, the people behind League aren’t going anywhere. Give us a minute, we will be back with more for you to watch and read and feel. We’re going to win.

And you’re not going anywhere either, because what you’ve built and what you are is bigger than this show. It’s the story of our community, that comes to us through the hidden history that League shows just one small part of: The bars got raided and shut down.

But the people didn’t go anywhere, and they opened a new bar, and out of those spaces came music, cinema, dance, culture — What we now see as mainstream was birthed from the spaces our predecessors were forced to hide in. They made joy there."