#or maybe like cigarets

[oddman-the-oldman]

I think I've come up with a compromise solution to the 2nd amendment VS Mental health arguement

Put a sin tax on guns, ammunition and other supplies that might be used in reloading spent shell casings as well as the parts to repair guns, extra magazines, scopes and laser sights etc... to pay for mental health services similar in weight and nature to the current taxes placed on alcohol. There can be an annual licensing fee with a tax stamp similar to an automobile license tab.

You could exempt safety equipment like trigger locks gun safes and locking gun cases to encourage their use.

All of the common sense stuff that the NRA says we need, to in the way of mental health services that will stop the mass shootings will be funded.

.

#or maybe like cigarets

[mcumorningstar]

A Rose By Any Other Name || Part One

part two part three

series pairing: tommy shelby x reader, hints of john shelby x reader, hints of tommy x lizzie

summary: Resigned to a life as a whore, the infamous Shelby brothers find you in a compromising position and you apprehensively accept their protection. (Set in s2).

warnings: 18+ minor’s dni, prostitution, 1920s attitudes toward women and prostitution (physical and verbal aggression), unprotected sex, alcohol consumption, typical peaky blinders content, (slow burn sorry)

author’s note: I was bored and it’s missing Tommy Shelby hours (he’s so fit I can’t cope). This is kinda short but I’m hoping to make it a series. Also this is the first fic so if anyone reads please be nice :)

Work was a little more bearable if they fucked you from behind.

That way you could imagine the man rutting into you was a handsome actor like Tom Mix or Rudolph Valentine, or even a dashing soldier in his uniform, and not some brutish married factory foreman after too many drinks in The Garrison.

“Mhm fuck,” The nameless man grunted, pulling out and painting splatters of his cum on the backs of your thighs. Whiskey-laced breaths evened out against your skin and his grip on your neck loosened.

You didn’t look at him as the pair of you redressed, only thinking about the money now in your purse. From his clothes, you could deduce that he worked in the BSA factory but he was too clean to work on the factory floor. It was more than you usually knew about your clients and, when he opened his mouth to speak, you winced.

“Does Harry know you’re whoring behind his pub?” The man laughed, slurring his words and pulling his suspenders over his shoulders.

Ignoring him, you fixed your dress and tidied your hair. The brute wrapped his meaty fingers around your jaw and pulled you into him. He was probably quite handsome in his youth.

“Too high and mighty to open your fucking mouth?” He goaded, squashing your cheeks between his calloused fingers, “How much for your mouth?”

Noise from the pub spilled out into the streets, raucous men wasting their wages on cheap liquor. Any plea for help would be futile. Even if they could hear you, a whore caught behind the pub with a man was hardly worth a second look.

“You’re hurting me,” A weak croak escaped your rouge-smudged lips. It was a gift from one of your regulars but maybe wearing it at the local pub was a mistake.

“On the house?” He sneered, yellow teeth and thinning hair visible in the dark of the alley. With an iron grip, he pushed you to your knees, the thick mud and jagged stones cutting into your skin.

Aggressive clients were an unfortunate commonality but, whenever it happened, it was as frightening as the first time.

The scratch of a match drew you from your panicked stupor, crowded against the grimy brick wall.

Light from The Garrison illuminated the alleyway as the backdoor opened and slammed shut, casting the alley into darkness again. Your breath caught in your chest, your fate no longer in your own hands as you silently pleaded for the stranger's presence to startle the man.

A shadow appeared on the wall from the man’s lit cigarette. A Peaky Blinder. Shit.

The man above you stepped back, his eyes on the man’s shadow as it tripled. His jaw tightened before he dragged you to your feet. The commotion caught the three brothers’ attention, their hushed conversation halting.

Thomas Shelby’s scrutinising gaze fixed on you until the man excused himself and hurried out of the alley onto Garrison Lane.

John and Arthur Shelby chuckled, nudging one another and failing to hide their smirks. Whiskey dripped from Arthur's moustache and John's tooth pick hung from the corner of his mouth.

With flushed cheeks, you brushed the tiny and blood-smeared stones from your knees and righted your skirt.

Deep blue eyes didn’t falter, pinning you to the spot.

“Is Lizzie still inside?” You asked meekly, attempting and failing to meet Thomas Shelby’s eyes.

Thick fingers ran his cigarette across his pink lips, taking another drag as his gaze assessed you. Fighting the urge to touch your hair or tug your lip between your teeth, his eyes finally broke away from you and it seemed his assessment of the situation was complete.

You were aware of one another, only by association. Lizzie was now Thomas’ secretary and she dragged you to The Garrison whenever she could. The Shelby brothers acknowledged your presence, as Lizzie’s friend, and they will look out for you as a favour to her.

Arthur broke the silence, his gruff voice full of cheek, “Yeah, talking to a BSA worker. Your fella outranks hers. Does that mean you can charge more?”

For men who frequently pay for whores, they were at ease to laugh at your expense.

It was the middle brother who spared you, snatching the whiskey from the eldest and offering you a swig. Against your better judgment, you took the bottle and swallowed a mouthful or two.

“Don’t worry, his cock went nowhere near my mouth,” You spat with no real bite behind it, “Didn’t want to take the piss with his shallow pockets.”

John and Arthur stood in stunned silence, their cheeks reddening and their eyes averting away from you. A wiser woman may have kept her mouth shut but you were banking on Lizzie to save you from any potential consequences. And you were humiliated, what else did you have to lose?

Thomas took a drink from the bottle before handing it back to his older brother. His deep Brummie lilt travelled through the silence, “We’ll drive you home.”

Without waiting for a response, he headed onto Garrison Lane and the brothers looked at one another, dumbfounded. You weren’t in the business of saying ‘no’ to a Blinder, especially not the Blinder, and especially not after your spiteful words. With shaky legs and sweaty palms, you followed the brothers.

A brand new Bentley was parked in front of The Garrison. Thomas held the passenger door open, finishing his cigarette. Arthur and John wrestled until Arthur manhandled his younger brother into the backseats, releasing his neck from a firm headlock.

Stepping back, Arthur motioned you towards the backseat but Thomas cleared his throat. The two brothers shared a moment of unspoken disagreement.

“I’ll sit in the back. I don’t mind,” You said as if your voice wasn’t yours. Three gangsters within arms reach was more than enough to set your nerves on edge.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Just a chair,” Arthur grumbled with a soft and crooked smile, as he clambered into the back with a more than delighted John. Smiling politely, you took the passenger seat.

This was your first time in an automobile. Thomas started the engine and glanced over when you crossed your legs, unsure how to sit lady-like in the confined space.

Your skirt rode up as you got comfortable and your grazed knee was exposed. Thomas kept his eyes on the road as he reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, handing over a white hanker-chief with a small embroidered T.S in the bottom corner.

Opening your mouth to protest, Thomas cleared his throat and focused on the drive. A silent order to accept the offer. Carefully you dabbed at the small trickles of blood, staining the white fabric, until all that was left was raw, grazed skin.

Thankfully, the drive to your lodgings wasn’t quiet; in fact John and Arthur talked your ear off as they passed the bottle of whiskey between them. You didn’t have much to say, mortified by the situation they found you in and frankly a little terrified to be in a car with the Shelby brothers in the first place.

Thomas was quiet. Lizzie said he’s been like that since he got back from France, but his silence was unnerving as you sailed through the streets of Small Heath.

“You live with Lizzie?” John asked as the car pulled in outside your lodgings and the engine cut. Clumsy hands gripped the back of your seat as he leaned over the front seats to smile at you.

Lizzie said John was a good boy, the best of a bad bunch. Nevertheless, blood rushed in your ears and your fisted the material of your dress at his proximity and hot whiskey breath.

Thomas sighed and lit a cigarette, surprising you when he got out of the car. Plumes of smoke followed him as he rounded the car and opened your car door.

“Yes, I- There’s three of us,” You answered, your scuffed brown heels stepping onto the uneven cobblestones.

“Three whores living together? Sounds like the start of a joke,” John laughed, his tooth pick long gone, and you were pleasantly surprised by the lack of insult in his voice.

“Or a very nice dream,” Arthur chuckled along too, his deep voice at full volume making you jump. With his brother distracted by you and the bottle, John scrambled into the front seat.

Arthur's swift smack to the back of John’s head echoed in the quiet of the street. A small smirk twitched at Thomas' lips but you averted your eyes before he noticed you watching.

"Lizzie is a secretary now, John," You played along, most comfortable with the younger brother. John's shining eyes were glued to you as you searched for your door key.

Arthur scoffed and mumbled against the lip of the bottle, "Yeah, Tommy's secretary." Nobody acknowledged the insinuation that hung in the air.

Opening your front door, you turned to the three men, slightly less afraid than you once were, "Thank you for driving me home. Goodnight."

"Night love," John and Arthur responded; Arthur's deep grumble and John's cheery lilt. They turned their attention back to the whiskey, fighting over it like children.

Before you shut the door, Thomas stepped closer to you, exhaling smoke through his nose. Did he want to come in? Payment for the lift home? Or, payment for the lift home? Whatever it was, your stomach felt like you swallowed a tonne of lead.

"Is everything okay, Mr Shelby?" Your voice carried between you, like a dainty flower ready to wilt.

"Tell Lizzie," He began, his cigarette hanging from his lips as he reached into his pocket, "That she's to come to work early tomorrow."

Folded paper money appeared from his pocket and suddenly the wad of cash was in your palm.

"Is- Is this for Lizzie?" You stuttered, blushing like a maiden at your suggestion. There was something heart-stopping about being the subject of Thomas Shelby's arresting gaze.

Thomas raised an eyebrow at you, taking his cigarette between his fingers and looking you up and down. Shit, was that the wrong thing to say? The Peaky Blinders never harmed women but that wasn't a comfort as you stood in front of him.

"Come on Tommy! It's fucking freezing!" Arthur yelled from the car. Thomas ignored him and threw his cigarette to the pavement.

"It's yours,” He said as if it was obvious, “Whores working behind The Garrison is bad for business."

That bastard! Lizzie told you all about her sessions with Thomas Shelby. Prostitution is only acceptable when he's doing the fucking?

"I'm not a charity nor a bookie you can bribe Mr Shelby," You pressed the money to his chest, "Save your white knight persuasion for Lizzie. Goodnight."

The sound of John and Arthur's laughter disappeared behind the wooden door, as you slammed it in Thomas' face. Muffled conversation between the brothers carried into the house, relieving you once the car drove away.

You had only been in your bedroom for a moment before gentle footsteps hurried across the landing.

"Is everything okay? I saw the Bentley parked outside," Thelma's brows were furrowed and she pulled her robe taunt against her body, peering into your bedroom.

"Yes," You nodded, slightly out of breath from your racing heart, "The Shelby brothers drove me home."

Thelma's jaw dropped, "With- Is Lizzie with you?"

Shaking your head, you draped your bag over the railing of your bed frame and unpinned your hair in front of the mirror.

"They said she was flirting with a BSA man. Caught me on my knees behind The Garrison," You flushed, failing to keep a straight face. Thelma burst into a fit of giggles.

Through the mirror, you saw her covering her mouth with her hand to stifle her amusement. You turned to face her, giggling at the ridiculousness of it.

"I'm sorry I don't mean to laugh," She sat at the bottom of your bed, as you unlaced your dress.

Living with other women was a comfortable situation but living with other whores was even more so. Who else would you go to for a second opinion if you thought you had the clap?

Your dress fell to the floor in a ripple of fabric and your heels were kicked off, "No it is funny. John is sweet. Arthur was drunk and loud.."

"..and Thomas?" Thelma goaded with a teasing grin.

"I slammed the door in his face," You winced and Thelma gasped," Do you think Lizzie will be mad at me? I couldn't help myself."

As much as Lizzie protested, it was glaringly obvious that she was in love with Thomas Shelby. When he started meeting with her on a regular basis, her heavy pockets and orgasmic bliss clouded her judgement. It would be hard for any of you to not fall in love with a client who makes you cum. Now she was his secretary but nobody was disillusioned by that title and, after a few drinks, she giddily confirmed that he bent her over his desk semi-regularly.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think that he loved her too but a man like Thomas Shelby was not bound by such silly notions.

Thelma giggled with a warm smile, "The sun shines out of his cock as far as she's concerned, but she’ll get over it.”

Giggling along, you hoped that Lizzie would be a few drinks in and find the whole ordeal hilarious...

#tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader smut #tommy shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #cillian murphy #tommy shelby x fem!reader #cillian x fem!reader

[bunwritesss]

Ode to Sleep

Summary: You cannot sleep. Maybe because the bed in the cells are uncomfortable as hell. Maybe because you're scared. Or maybe because you got used to sleep with Daryl at the Farm, and you're not used to sleeping alone anymore. Whatever the reason is, a certain hunter cannot sleep either, and will make sure to make the night at least a little more fun for you.

Genre: Fluff 💕

A/N: Hiiii everyone!! 💕Here's another oneshot inspired by a Twenty One Pilots song, I'm really going to do both of my favorite albums by them I think! Tell me if you have any ideas for the songs from Vessel and Heavydirtysoul as Daryl x Reader prompts, I'd love to hear them <3

You were currently sitting on the awfully hard bed of your awfully small cell, knees against your chest and wobbly arms carefully wrapped around you, sheltering you from the rest of the prison. You had tried to sleep for hours, counting sheeps and trying to work on your breathing, but being alone in such a small room made you slightly claustrophobic. So you gave up, waiting for the sun to rise again. It was too dark outside to read.

'Can't sleep?'

A voice outside of your room startled you, Daryl's silhouette standing at the entrance of your cell. He did not enter it, careful not to scare you. You nodded, and then realized he probably couldn't see you, so you responded in a loud whisper.

'Yup. You too?' 'Wanna come outside with me?' He ignored your question.

You immediatly rose to your feet, happy to have a distraction. Daryl was one of your favorite members of the group. Although he did not talk much, nor was always agreeable, he always knew how to make sure everyone was healthy, and to show his affection to the people he loved. You noticed he stopped snapping at you as soon as he realized you seemed more affected by it than the others, and he often brought you a little trinket from his runs. The blue scrunchie you wore on your wrist, snapping it to distract yourself from the oppressing room, was one of those gifts. It was a fact, Daryl Dixon was a softie.

He waited for you to join him at the entrance, slowly walking to the entrance of the prison. The chill air of the court made you regret the sheets you used as a blanket, slightly shivering. You followed Daryl to a patch of grass near the building where your group set camp, and sat next to him. You watched as he lit himself a cigaret, not bothering offering you one anymore.

You stayed in silence for a few minutes, Daryl enjoying his cigaret and you enjoying Daryl's presence. Being outside made all of the tension in your body disappear, and you let out a sigh of contentment when you smelled nicotine in the air. The air smelled familiar now.

'I hate feeling caged.' You said, both for yourself and for Daryl. 'Me too.' He simply replied, toying with the cigaret.

Its burning orange end danced in the dark, hypnotizing you and your tired brain. As you were still shivering, you took your arms out of the oversized T-shirt you were wearing, wrapping them around yourself. The move made Daryl chuckle.

'We can go back if yer cold?' He offered kindly. 'Nah, being outside is what I needed, no worries. I'm feeling warmer already.'

And you weren't lying. As you rubbed your arms, you felt warmth coming back to your body. You felt every blade of grass, every blow on the wind on your body, and smiled. You needed this.

'How did you know I wasn't asleep?' 'Ya sleeptalk. And ya can't sleep sittin' down.' 'I sleeptalk?'

You felt your cheeks becoming red. He nodded, taking another drag of his cigaret.

'What do I talk about?'

He shrugged.

'Said ya talked, not that ya did make any sense.'

You snorted, relieved. God knows what you could have told in your sleep... You couldn't help but shiver again, and this time he hesitantly rubbed your back.

'Can I move closer to you? I swear you're like a furnace or something!'

He silently thanked the obscurity for preventing you from seeing the blush on his cheeks, and you felt him nod. So you cuddled at his side, arms still inside your shirt, as he brought an arm against your shoulders. Your trembling form slowly calmed down.

'Better?' 'Yes. Thank you so much.'

You smiled at him, although he couldn't see him, taking a breath in. He smelt like a forest. Forest and nicotine, and you instantly forgot the awful air of the prison. You closed your eyes, focusing on his heartbeat.

'Daryl? Why can't you sleep?' You asked him kindly, comfortable against him.

He shrugged.

'Dunno.' 'Is it because you feel trapped too?' 'Yeah, must be that.' He grumbled, and you nodded thoughtfully. 'It sucks.' 'Yeah.'

Feeling bold, as you knew Daryl would not have woken up anyone besides Carol or you, and eventually Rick, to share a night outside, you decided to take one of his hands between yours, and he surprisingly let you without any complaint. You toyed with his fingers, rubbed circles on his scarred knuckles as you both enjoyed the calm of the night. He seemed to enjoy what you were doing, his curious eyes squinting in the direction of your hands. His cigaret was now done, and he stuffed it in his pocket with his free hand, before putting his arm back around your shoulder.

'Daryl?'

You were now toying with your scrunchie, trapping both of your hands inside it, softly snapping it against your wrists. He did not respond but you knew he was listening. And you felt particularly brave, during this beautiful night.

'Would you be okay if we shared a bed, in the prison?'

You did not give him time to answer, immediatly rambling as to make his rejection easier to accept for you.

'I mean, you don't have to because now we have as many beds as we want, but we got used to sleeping together at the Quarry, and then at the farm, and I just... I don't know, I feel comfortable with you, but if you would rather sleep alone I-' 'Y/N.' He interrupted you softly, and you gave him your whole attention, a bit worried. 'I would not have woken ya up if I didn't want to spend time with ya.'

Your panicked state when you were afraid you were making people uncomfortable always made him chuckle. You always took everyone's feelings into account, and that was probably one of the reasons why it had been so easy for you to befriend him. He knew you did not fake your kindness.

'You mean you'd like to share a bed with me?'

He nodded, weirdly comfortable with the idea. And you beamed, your eyes twinkling.

'Then I would love for us to go back to bed, because I am freezing out there!'

You got up first, giving him your hand to help him get up. He took it, and you did not let go of it as you walked back to the prison, a small smile on both of your flushed faces. You were both convinced you would finally spend a restful night, now. And it felt amazing.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead imagine

[visndcaitswhore]

Amavi || Ch.2

That day Gabrielle conveniently lost her cigarettes, and she acted like the entire time she was supposed to be studying, she wasn't throwing glances at the closed window across from her every 2 minutes while tapping her leg nervously. To the point where her mom had to shout at her from downstairs because they could hear her heel thumbing on the wooden floor through the ceiling to the living room.

Her mind was racing about how to approach this when she just decided to wing it and go with the flow. She locked her door, buttoned up her shirt, which she usually had a bit too open when in the comfort of her room, and grabbed a matchbox on one hand and a tiny rock on the other before making her way to the window.

Gabrielle noticed the lights were on. Then again, she would wake him up even if they weren't. When the peddle hit the window, it made a sound. Not too loud, not too quiet to go unnoticed by the boy inside the room. Still, he took his sweet time to answer, and Gabrielle was left glaring at his curtains, head propped up on her fist, till he finally opened them.

He must have been sleeping or was simply tired. Those were her first thoughts and the first thing she noticed about him. Aside from the white patch over his left eye, It wasn't that bad, but it was different. Kind of made her sad. Not that it changed his face that much; it could've been worse.

"Finally. I thought you died," she remarked, opting to ignore the subject for now. There is no need to be soft and make things weird.

He flipped her off, and she smiled, knowing her decision was the correct one. "Toss a few."

He fished a few out of his pocket. "Two?"

"Four." He paused and gave her a look, making her shrug. "I run out."

"You never give me more than three," he pointed out, still focused on the cigaretes in his hand. Gabrielle watched him, remembering that her father used to have a friend who had lost his eye, and he couldn't really focus on objects for a while. He would try to grab something, but he could only grab air. It was something he got used to after adjusting.

"Next time, I'll give you five." She looked at the matchbox in her hand, reading the words she had written on it: "Plus, I have a gift for you."

She was aware it wouldn't do Michele any good, but something about him not being confident, even when he is being an asshole, and locking himself in his room made her uncomfortable. Maybe because he was never meant to be quiet, even when they were younger, he was full of life. It may not seem like it at first, but he was one of the few people she knew who was unafraid to live the way he wanted. Maybe she admired him for it, or maybe she craved that quality of his to stay in her life.

His quietness unnerved her. She was the quiet one; her quiet was familiar. That's why they had been friends, she thinks. She was quiet, and he never misunderstood that. He didn't misunderstand her loudness, either. She returned the favor, knowing that's just how Joseph was—he could bite.

Biting was something they both knew how to do. Heck, she was worse than him, blowing up and lashing out like a second language. Bruised knuckles and bloody noses brought her comfort, in a way.

So, late-night smoke breaks were needed. For both of them. And for him to go back to how he was, he didn't need just a gift or one of those magazines boys liked so much. Gabrielle was going to make him remember how to be spiteful.

He tied four cigarettes together, as she had requested, and threw them at her. They were a bit off the mark, yet Gabrielle caught them and made a show of counting them, checking to see if they were unsmoked, and one of them was a bit burned at the end of it. The girl held it up, showing him "Cheap."

He smirked unapologetically, resting his arms on the stone service of the window sill. "Still waiting for my gift." His words trailed off as he watched her place that one cigarette he had tried to smoke about an hour ago but decided against it between her lips, which made him unconsciously lick his.

"My mom is going to bring you cake one of these days."

Gabrielle lit it, taking a drag and letting the sounds around them fill the quiet. Just from the floor below she could hear her sisters laughing, talmking  and running around. A few houses away there was a store, that sold the best pastries Gabrielle had ever tasted. even now, she could smell the croquembouche in the air.

He scoffed, "That's not your gift."

"I can't bake."

"I know, Cheri," he joked.

Gabrille laughed, remembering how she had created chaos in her kitchen a few years ago, to which the boy was a witness and was never planning on letting her live it down. Finally, she showed him the matchbox; he squinted at it in confusion, then looked back at her face.

Joseph didn't see how a matchbox was a gift, which made him curious in a way only Gabrielle could make him, but before he could question her, the matchbox landed on his chest, and he looked at it, pushing his hair back. He had been in the process of growing it out just at the beginning of summer, maybe because British girls liked it or because he had heard Gabrielle say she liked longer hair.

Whichever it was, the admission would only be heard by the wind alone in the privacy of his room as he lay awake in the middle of the night, his thoughts eating at him, wondering if the light in her room would shine and if he would seem too pathetically obvious if he went out to smoke.

There were words on the matchbox, written in black.

"You didn't find out from me." And he nodded, for his tongue was covered in something bitter as he remembered the older Magnan sibling. At the same time, an almost warm feeling spread through him as he looked at her. His missing eye made it harder for him to adjust to any distance or change in light for a while; therefore, this was the first time since they started their conversation that he could take her in.

Her dark curls, her olive skin tone, and her brown eyes with hints of green and flecks of gold. Her relaxed posture, leaning her cheek on her hand, the cigarette hanging from her lips—fuck, her lips—lazily .And he remembered the last time they hung out, and the bitterness spread from his tongue to the rest of his body.

Could the bitterness drown her away? Cover him completely so he can be free.

She smiled and said, "It looks good, by the way." motion towards her own eye.

No, probably not.

"I look like a pirate."

"Poor, pretty Joseph. Your handsome face scarred. How will you get through with all the girls checking you out?"

At least she did not mention Vincent Auriol.

The blonde laughed; his face was scarred; his head was a mess; his mom was distraught; and he had the audacity to laugh.

Gabrielle could never have guessed that the laugh wasn't because he was looking forward to all the girls being interested in him. But because he was cursing his luck for the one he wanted, he wouldn't be one of them.

The next day, when Gabrielle saw him walk on the school grounds, she gave Michele a look, and since Michele did not know any better, she thought it was simply because the brunette felt for her situation. It didn't even cross her mind; the look was an apologizing one.

At the end of the day, he lost an eye; it's permanent damage. Her consolation thoughts made her push away all guilt as she chatted with Simone.

Simone was definitely the easiest person to have a casual conversation with, though sometimes she took Gabrielle by surprise with her words. In her defense, being asked if you are a runaway princess from some dynasty would probably take anyone by surprise. "Since you are wearing pants so much, I thought it was because of horse riding." Simone explained, her cheeks heating up when the tall girl threw her head back with a loud laugh.

"And your first thought was that I was a princess?"

"Well, you wear them a lot." The Algerian made a motion towards her pants, with a smile that turned shy when Gabrielle leaned forward, whispering a secret:

"They make my ass look good."

The short-haired girl put a hand in front of her face, certainly not expecting her to say something like that. She had heard many boys comment on her ass, that's for sure, but it did not cross her mind that she cared about that. Gabrielle adding that 'it's not like my boobs on the big side' made her hit her shoulder, laughing.

After a while, she remembered she had to go put her gym attire on, which she was not going to do in the boys toilet, so she had Annick stand guard in case Giraud passed by. The blonde took her role seriously, insisting Gabrielle go change first so they could avoid any suspicion if she was spotted out of the girls toilets.

"We match." Gabrielle noted with a big smile as she put her hair in a high ponytail when Annick took notice of the muscles in her arms. Her mom had muscles too, but they were the type of muscles one got from working a lot, which were nothing like Gabrielle's.

"Do you work out?"

"My dad teaches me savate," she explained, walking next to her with a shrug. "I like it."

"That's kinda cool." Annick said, looking around, avoiding her gaze even when she could tell from her peripheral vision that Gabrielle had turned her head to get a look at her. She let her, mostly because a part of her was used to being starred at; she had faced worse gazes. Keeping her cool, her eyes landed on her, only to find the girl looking at her much differently than when men or spiteful girls looked at her.

Gabrielle threw her hand around Annick's shoulders; it seemed foreign for someone to do so, but her body refused to pull away. "I'll teach you if you want."

"I'll just have you do the dirty work for me."

The fact that Gabrielle nodded with clear self-assurance and no hesitation made it seem that she would in fact do something like that for her. Maybe she would do it for fun, even.

Walking inside the gym with Gabrielle holding her close gave them a strange sense of deja vu when all eyes landed on them.

"I think they are jealous of me." Gabrielle whispered in the blonde's ear, "I got the best girl in France."

"France?" Annick found it excessive to make her out to be the best out of every girl in the entire country, even when the corners of her mouth lifted slightly.

"Definitely."

Well, the gym turned out to be a disappointment since the boys were clearly having fun while they were stuck climbing a fucking rope, which can only be fun when you are 10 years old and don't know how to do so. Some stuff is fun till you find out how to do it; then they are just chores, a way for a teacher to give them something to do so he won't have to think about them too much.

Gabrielle was just keeping herself occupied by zoning out or listening to Simone's insane scenarios about Annick being some secret Hollywood star child. Though she had to admit she had thought about that one herself, she came to the realization that kids born to famous, rich, and accomplished parents probably wouldn't be good at anything; in fact, she doubted they would even care to try. The only time she felt like butting in was when Simone complained about a bruise that had formed on her thigh by absentmindedly adding:

"The love of your life won't give a shit about a bruise or a scar, Simone."

"What if he does?" She sounded absolutely horrified by the idea.

"Then he is not the love of your life."

At some point, the four girls had gotten tired of doing the same thing over and over again, so they just sat side by side on the blue mat, with Simone and Gabriele usually starting a conversation. Which didn't go great since Annick was her usual closed-off self and Michele looked like she was sitting on hot coals the entire time, clearly anxious.

Gabrielle kept an eye on her the entire time, mostly because she was used to it from keeping her younger sisters in line when her parents told her to. Well, and even if they didn't, it was her job to help them out with anything. It could get frustrating at times; that was the role of the oldest, though her elders would say. It was a role, and everyone has roles in their families, friend groups, and society in general.

Then Michele decided to start climbing the rope again to keep herself busy, and all that was left to do was watch the boys play. Gabrielle narrowed her eyes, wrinkling her nose as if a foul smell had entered her nostrils, knowing full well she could do much better than any of them. Applebaum proved her point when a ball hit him on the side of his head, which made her scoff and look to the side.

Coincidentally to her right, where her gaze diverted, was Descamps, whom she noticed had a smirk on his face and a certain, familiar spark lighting up his face. Nothing good, she knew. But at the end of the day, none of her business exists. Still, she watched him make a sign to Dupin, his partner in crime, and they snickered together.

A thought passed through her mind at that moment. Leaning her weight to her left, she whispered to Annick. "Is Dupin pretty, or am I crazy?" Who, mostly because this was the second weirdest comment she received in the past 15 minutes, rolled her eyes. "It was just a comment. Not like I would give him the role of class president in a silver platter!" Gabrielle exclaimed, offended.

Maybe it was also a dig at the fact she thought that Annick had every right to keep the date to herself, become class president and put Giraud in her place. She deserved to be at that position, she studied the hardest, got the best scores but Annick decided that keeping a low profile would be better.

"I don't know about Dupin, but his friend has been checking you out the entire time. Maybe keep your focus there."

A beat of silence. Annick looked at her straight in the eyes, while Gabrielle wondered if she could get away with getting physical with her like she did with her younger sisters. 

Annick might be a proper lady but she was sure she would bite her if she even tried.

Gabrielle raised her hands in surrender with a laugh "Okay, I'm shutting up." 

#joseph descamps #mixte #mixte1963 #annick mixte1963 #michele magnan #simone mixte #jean-pierre #fanfic

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Hello!

I wanted to say that I love your blogs and seeing that you posted something can make my day :)

I would like to ask if I can request a blurb/hc of Wick taking care of a sick reader?

Or Zib teasing the reader (shorter than him) about their height which makes the reader upset and then Zib having to appease them? - i hope it makes sense😭

Also I wanted to add - please don't overwork nor rush yourself, get some proper rest and take care!

A/n: I WILL DO BOTH, and ahhhh you're so sweet, thank you for giving me my to favorite boys 😩

<Wick taking care of a sick reader>

"Love?"

Stepping into the room, Wick frowned as he looked you over. He hated seeing you like this, all bundled up between the blankets. Hearing your coughs, seeing your body shake.

Stepping close, he flinched at your cough as he sat next to you. Rubbing your back gently, he brushed a stay curl aside as you weakly looked up at him.

"I'm sorry Wick." Coughing, you looked up at him as you gave him a weak smile. "I'm sorry you had to cancel our date night."

Shaking his head, Wick smiled as he bent down giving the top pf your head a gentle kiss. "Never apologize love....I'd rather spend time with you....now I know the perfect thing to make you feel better. My grandmas famous recipe!" He beamed.

Letting out a weak laugh, you did your best to hide your cough as Wick covered your body with another blanket. "Get some rest dove, I'll bring you the food and you'll be better in know time."

Sitting by your side, Wick made sure that you were comfortable. He set a bath for you and while you were cleaning yourself he changed out the sheets for fresh ones. He even went as far as to carry you back to the bed.

"What if you get sick Sedgewick?" You weakly looked up at him, your ears flattened on your head, tail twitching as he moved to lay next to you.

"Then I will take that risk." He muttered kissing the top of your head. "Now get some sleep, rest is very important in getting better."

Letting out a soft laugh you nuzzled your face into his chest. "Okay, but I'm only doing this for you."

<Zib teasing short reader>

"That short enough for ya....I mean...you sure you can reach it?" ​Dorian Zibowski or Zib as everyone called him teased you as he hovered ofer your short frame.

"I can help ya of you like." The cigaret dangled from the corner of his mouth.

Puffing out your cheeks, your fur bristled as you tugged the mic close to you. "How very kind of you Zib but I'm fine! Maybe you should worry about not hacking up a lung on our next performance."

A deep chuckle left his lips as he took a step towards you. Grasping your chin he gave you a teasing grin bending down, his head pressing yours as his hat pushed up. "I keep forgettin how cute you are when you get all flustered."

"Zib!"

Humming, Zib put out the cigaret as he then placed his hat on your head. "You weren't complanin last night though. Gotta say you looked really good wearin my shirt."

Feeling your body grow warm, you turned your back to him. "You....shut up!"

#sedgewick sable #blurbs #blurb #sedgewick sable x reader #sedgewick x reader #wick sable #wick sable x reader #sedgewick sable lackadaisy #wick sable lackadaisy #lackadaisy sedgewick sable #lackadaisy #lackadaisy x reader #lackadaisy x you #dorian zibowski #dorian zibowski x reader #dorian zibowski lackadaisy #zib lackadaisy #lackadaisy zib #zib x reader #zib x you #dorian zibowski x you #lackadaisy x

[cerise-angel]

West coast

Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+ smut; smoking and drinking

Kind of a singer!au? (Omg Djo hi!!!) Heavily, if not totally, inspired by the song west coast and the ultraviolence album. Just saw the pictures above, while listening and yeah, this is it. Hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know what you guys think 💘💕😖 (if i have the guts and time, maybe i will do one for each song of the album) Emotional smut ❤️😭🥵 Also this is my first smut, sorry if its not that juicy..... English is not my first language, sorry for any grammar mistakes/mispelling.

The night was hot and humid, the wind blowing relentlessly, boiling a summer storm with it. Even so, the small restaurant was almost full, pretty much all the tables taken, the dim lightning focusing on the small stage. Not that people seemed to be paying much attention to the man singing. You were though.

Sitting beside the bar in a tall chair, you ordered another Jack n Coke to the bartender, who seemed much happier to bring you more alcohol. "This was supposed to be fun." You thought to yourself, sighing. It was your vacation after all, and you decided to come down to south California, staying in a fancy resort.

Felt was nice, but lonely, it had started to bother you, bubbling in your chest, that same feeling of fear and relief of being alone, which usually ended up in tears or in the best peace you've ever known. The pretty singer seemed to be as frustrated as you. You focused on him, the way his hands played the guitar, his shirt opened until the fourth button, leaving out a sight of his chest and the gold chain resting against it. He stopped playing for a break, receiving a light but sure round of applause. He brought his drink to his lips, and locked eyes with you.

The way you were staring at him, as if he was good enough to eat, made him cock an eyebrow at you, which caused you to choke and spill your drink. He smiled, chuckling lightly, and even though you were embarrassed and tipsy, you couldn't stop looking at him. He started playing back, and you decided to head out of the restaurant, too ashamed for your own good.

Grabbing your phone, while sitting in one of the iron wired chairs outside, you texted your friend.

just embarrassed myself in front of the cute singer. that's why i hate gemini season.

You attached a funny selfie of you, making a fake crying face, and pressed send. Sighing yet again, you looked up at the dark skies, very cloudy, the smell of rain creeping from the grounds. It was going to rain very soon, but you really didn't care. It was fucking hot, your dress clinging to your body, your body getting damp with sweat. A cold rain would do good.

Contemplating your options, you settled for finishing your drink, and asking one more to the waiter that passed by. Surely time had passed, but you didn't know the amount. The wind was blowing even angrier, bending the palm trees and knotting the swiss cheese plants around you.

Your friend finally answered your phone, at the same time your new drink came.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Looking up to what it was supposed to be the young boy who had been attending your orders the whole night, it was the said cute singer. You felt hot in the cheeks and on the back of your knees. You wished for the rain. He looked at you with a soft smile dangling on his features, a mischief burning in his eyes.

"Can I sit with you?"

You nodded, chugging down a big gulp of the whiskey mixed with soda. He sat down, not in the chair in your front, but beside you. He reached for a pack of cigarettes in his back pocket, and drank his golden rum.

"Do you have a light?"

You nodded again, picking a neon pink lighter from your small purse.

"You don't talk?"

You looked at him a little angry and embarrassed, your mouth forming a pout before you could answer. The cute singer laughed, finally lighting his cigarette.

"Just messing with you, pretty. Don't get mad."

"I'm not mad. And I do talk."

He looked at you again, his eyes burning like his cigarette. He smiled, smugly. You smiled, ironically. He kept looking at you, and the drink you had earlier and the hot weather, made you look down, at your phone. Your friend's message was still unread.

i always thought embarrassing yourself was yoour flirting tactic? lol get him tigress

You chuckled lightly, and seconds after, as if in cue, the skies opened its gates, and big drops of water started to crash against the earth. You cursed under your breath, and quickly got your stuff, shoving your phone in your purse, and grabbing the half full cup to take to your chalet with you. The cute singer got up too, offering you his light jacket, to cover your clinging dress. You took it, grabbing his hand and bringing him along with you. He stopped before you could go any further, though.

"Hey, pretty, what cabin is yours?"

"Eight."

"Why don't we get inside, wait for the rain to subside, and then we go?"

The way he kept saying we, made your blood rush, your cheeks get red, your hands get sweaty, your breath hitch. You nodded, again, and he pulled you close to his body, bringing you back to the restaurant lobby.

Strangely, his cigarette was still on fire. You probably looked at it with a weird expression, because he chuckled, the hand that was still on your waist, rubbing your sides.

"My name's Steve Harrington. But you can call me Steve, or cute singer, whichever you like, pretty."

The way this man could make you turn into a giggling high school girly who just got a wink from her crush was insane. Maybe you were insane. It was his fault though, his pretty rough hands, the slightly chapped lip rubbing the cigarette, the faint smell of ash and vanilla he had. You were feeling dizzy. Putting a hand on his biceps, you pushed a little distance between you two.

"I'm sorry for ogling at you. You just looked really nice in the stage and no one paid you enough attention."

"You don't think I look nice now?"

He had, in the most subtle way, pulled you back into his chest, his hand resting on your lower back, his eyes glinting with desire. You looked up at him, at the smug smile you wanted to just kiss off his mouth, the small freckles he had on his neck and face.

"I think you look much more than nice now."

Steve dropped the cigarette on the floor, and his other hand caged your face. His lips were on you by a mere second, tasting like rum and salt.

"The rain decreased. C'mon, pretty."

------

The rain was a drizzle now, making the hot weather much more bearable. Steve had your hand in his, his other hand holding a bottle of golden rum he had taken from the kitchen. Your cup was still in your hand, with a very watered down liquor on it.

Steve stopped, letting your hand go and giving you the bottle before lighting up another cigarette. You drank a small amount from the bottle, smiling, tipsy for him. He smiled back, puffing the smoke before kissing you again.

The chalet wasn't far, but you two were eager. Walking fast and tangled when the rain started to pour heavily again, you made to the door of the cabin, soaked and dazed.

You unlocked the door, took off your kitten heels and walked inside. Steve did the same, letting his shoes out. You went to the bedroom, grabbing a towel for him and one for you. When you got back to the kitchen/living room assemble, Steve had put some music on, and was on the balcony. You couldn't tear your eyes away, even if you wanted to.

He was swinging slowly to the song, the breeze adding more allure to his silhouette. His cigarette on fire, his hands were up, dancing in a drunk manner. You wanted to eat him. You discarded the towels in the chair, and being a little intoxicated from the alcohol, from the heat, and, mostly, from him, popped the front buttons of your dress, reveling no bra and a glimpse of your panties.

Steve has stopped dancing, his eyes glued to your lustful form. He wanted to get inside again, and take you on the small couch, but he knew better. You seemed to enjoy playing this game, and he wasn't going to end your fun. So he waited, licking his lips, and chugging down the rum.

When you got to the balcony, the wind had risen, bringing some of the rain inside it. Steve reached for you in a moment, his hands now on your ass, his hips glued to yours, swinging with him.

"What song is this?"

You asked breathlessly, only to not give in to him first. Everything about him made you lose it, and one of his hands played around your almost exposed breasts now. His head was hanging low, eyes focused on your glowing skin, and the shivers he could bring you with just a slight touch.

"No idea, honey."

He gave in first. His lips chased yours, licking, kissing, burning. Your hands were on his soft silk hair, your lips connected to his, your whole body reacting to him. Steve's hands were now in your shoulders, pulling the straps of your dress down, exposing your breasts. His kissing started to slow down, pecking your lips, your chin, your neck and finally your breasts.

You whimpered when his lips involved your nipple, his hands now resting in your waist and ass, steadying you in place. Steve looked up through hooded eyes and eyelashes, and you left a near pornographic moan at the sight. He smiled against your skin, pulled the rest of your dress off and turning you swiftly, so that your back was on display for him.

His hands played with your breasts, and he kissed your bare shoulders. You couldn't take it anymore, and started to push your hips against his, the aching lust taking the best of you. Steve fucking chuckled, putting his hands on your hips to stop you. You whined.

"Steve. Do something."

"I am doing."

You moved your hips again, turning in his embrace, locking your lips in a heated kiss. Steve's hands kept you flushed against him, his hips now moving in sync with yours. Your hand traveled down to his jeans, touching his clothed cock. Steve whined and you chuckled.

His hands did the same, going under your cotton panties, making you gasp and moan. He kissed you back immediately, keeping your sweet noises just between your two. You finally pulled his jeans and boxers down, looking at his pretty cock. Your mouth watered at the sight.

Smugly, he touched your chin, tilting your head up.

"My eyes are up here, honey."

You rolled your eyes, ready to talk him down, but his fingers pushed inside you. Steve turned on his heels, bringing you with him, so now you were pressed against the balcony fence. Softly, he tapped your leg, and you sited on top of the fence, opening your legs for him. Steve pulled your panties down, and you helped him out of his shirt. He was more eager than you, pressing himself against your pussy before the shirt was off. You kissed him again, and he kissed back softly, slowing down while his hands secured you by the waist. Slowly, Steve pushed himself inside you, making you gasp and whimper at the stretch. His mouth pecked you, easing you into it. His hands were now cupping your jaw, his breathing ragged, forehead against yours. Softly, you muttered.

"Move, baby, move, baby."

Steve gave you the prettiest smile, rocking his hips against you. You clawed at his back, your legs wrapping on his waist. Steve's mouth was back to your breasts, one of his hands squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh while the other kept caging your jaw.

"Steve. Steve, please. More."

"You-Jesus, honey, you so sweet. Fuck."

His lips kissed your mouth again, his hips keeping a tough rhythm in and out of you. Your hands were now on his hair, tugging, pulling, caressing his scalp. Steve's eyes were glued to the meeting of your bodies, the way you fitted him perfectly. He picked up the pace, faster and deeper, making you cry out in pleasure. His mouth latched to your neck, sucking, biting, kissing. You kissed his face relentlessly, lips meeting his forehead, his temple, his eyes, everything. You were close enough to hot white pleasure, and Steve seemed to notice, bringing his hand to rub your clit. Your head fell back, mouth opened, while he kept fucking you and kissing your neck and breasts.

"C'mon, honey. Come to me."

And you did. Your body felt limp, completely relaxed, your lips twitching a lazy smile. Steve slowed his pace, easing you out of your bliss. You brought your lips to his neck, and Steve whimpered, his hips stuttering against yours. You sucked the same spot, nipping gently at the soft skin. Steve pulled out, painting your thighs with his seed. He smiled, too, before kissing you again.

The kiss was gentle, slow. Steve helped you out of the fence, making sure to support your tumbling legs. You wrapped your arms on his neck, nuzzling your face in his chest.

"Shower with me?"

You asked meekly, not wanting him to leave. Steve nodded, wrapping you in a hug, following you to the bathroom. It was strange, how much you liked him. You met him in less than a day, and here you were, letting him wash your hair, and help you to apply body oil. You quite probably were insane.

Steve's skin was warm to the touch, soft and painted with freckles. You washed his back, in a retribution for him washing your hair. Steve kept you close, always touching you, kissing you. It made you feel like maybe he was liking you too. Maybe you weren't that insane.

After the shower, you clung to him again, worried that he might leave you. He smiled, reassuring you he wouldn't, pulling you on top of him in the bed. Steve pulled the duvet to cover you, and you turned the ac on. When you looked at him again, he was already looking at you. His eyes were even prettier in the small lightning, and you had to resist to urge to touch and connect the freckles on his bare chest.

Steve kissed you, and nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck, his rough hands squeezing you against his own body.

"Steve. I think, I think, I'm in love."

He looked up, his cheeks glowing pink, his eyes shining with yearning.

"Honey, I'm in love."

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve stranger things #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fluff #joe keery #singer!steve harrington #west coast lana del rey #stevie harrington #cherry writing #cerise writings

[jksprincess10]

Exile 2. Smartass

Summary: After Steve Murphy's unforgivable death in the never-ending fight against Pablo Escobar, Javier Peña finds himself stuck with a new partner. A girl that they brought from Miami. Smart, devastating, strong. Nothing he would have thought her to be. Their rivalry builds up to something intense, destructive.

CW: canon violence, mentions of death, smoking and drinking, language, bullshitting my way through the Narcos plot, no y/n (3rd person), no physical and racial descriptions of the girl, eventual smut. 1500 words.

Divider by @cafekitsune

Masterlist for exile

Notification blog

In the evening, most of her things found their rightful place. She didn’t have many dishes, but they all found a little space in the kitchen. The cupboards were mostly empty. At least, the apartment came with the basic furniture, a luxury that filled the quiet emptiness.

Her bathroom was full of her makeup items and her walk-in closet in her room overflew with clothes. Riri was still hiding in the closet. She would be hiding too, after meeting such a "nice" guy.

She got the basics for cooking meals for the following week. But she was too tired to cook anything big today, so she snacked on some cereals instead.

It was late when she heard Javier coming back home, door slamming shut. Great. The apartment wasn’t well insulated. She can also vaguely hear his TV.

She decides to sleep it off, not wanting to think too much about her new coworker who already seemed to despise her.

In the morning, she slips on a white shirt and black slacks after forcing herself to eat and drink coffee. She looks at the clock on her wrist. 6:58. She grabs her bag and goes outside to meet Javier in his Jeep. He’s already sitting, waiting for her, a cigarette between his lips.

“Morning.” She says.

“Almost late.” He responds as a greeting.

“I had two minutes to spare.” She argues as she rolls her eyes. “Your TV was loud yesterday.”

“Get used to it, princesa. Walls are thin here.”

She can almost see the hint of a smile around his cigarette. He’s wearing a light yellow shirt, a leather jacket, and dark jeans. The yellow looks good on his tan skin.

“Where are you from, Agent Peña?” She asks as he drives away.

“Texas.” He responds dryly.

“Fun. I wouldn’t have guessed.” She finds a cigarette pack in his car console, takes one and brings it to her lips and lights it up. He glares at her in the rear-view mirror, but she smiles like a wolf she takes a long drag on her cigarette. She would need to take a lot of fucking nicotine to endure the grumpy man. “I worked in Miami. But I’m from Canada.”

“I don’t care. I only care about the fact that you can do your job.”

“Lovely.” She rolls her eyes and keeps smoking in silence.

When they finally get to work, he shows her the empty desk in front of his. She would get tired of his presence pretty fast if he didn’t miraculously become nice. He puts a pile of files on her desk.

“That’s what we have so far. Read all of it and then get back to me.”

She puts her thick rimmed glasses on her nose to read. “This will take me all day.” She complains.

“You have to start somewhere, new recruit.” Says another man she didn’t know. He’s middle-aged and large. “I’m Chris, welcome.” She offers him a smile and tells him her name.

“What he said.” Javier responds. And then, just like that, he’s gone.

She flies through the files in just a few hours. She knew most of the information already, except the most recent breakthroughs that were still under wraps. And that last report. With everything that went wrong. Faceless people who died under an attack by Escobar’s men.

Maybe that’s why Javier was such a dick. Maybe that’s why he underestimated his new partner so much.

Javier comes back to his desk for a smoke break, eyebrows shot up as he sees that chiquita is done reading and she’s laying back in her chair, legs up on the desk.

“You’re a fast reader.”

“One of my many qualities.” She responds with a grin.

She watches as he lights up his cigarette and gets a glimpse of his teeth. She wondered what he looked like when he smiled. If he ever did.

“Let’s see if you actually retained any information or if you’re bullshitting.”

Javier tosses his cigarette pack at her, and she notes that she would owe him later. They smoke face to face, vapors of their cigarettes intertwining between them. She holds his gaze, defiant.

He quizzes her from the beginning of the case, and she responds flawlessly, with numbers and dates when needed. He feels himself getting smaller and smaller with every response, like he finally met someone better than him.

And then, he talked about the latest report.

“What went wrong, you think?” His eyes are suddenly distant, far away, as he remembers everything that went wrong. The way he almost lost his job when he came back with the news. He had failed miserably.

“You underestimated the fact that La Quica could call reinforcements with a phone you couldn’t track. And how close the help was from him. You thought you had framed him. But he framed you.”

“Smart girl.” He says, lips curled around his cigarette in what resembled a smirk.

Her thighs closed at the praise. She damned her body for getting aroused at his words. She tried to remember that he was an asshole.

“You need more help from the inside.”

“And how you suggest we do that?”

“You have to find someone who’s willing to sell them for immunity.”

“Or I could send you as bait. Make them believe you’re a whore sent to please them.”

“Fuck you, Javier.”

There it was the reminder that he was an asshole.

“It’s Agent Peña for you, chiquita.”

“I’ll call you trou de cul if it pleases me. Let me see if we got more intel on the phone if you’re done bothering me.” She gets up, the cigarette she stole from him still dangling from her lips.

When she’s gone, Chris shoots an amused look to Javier.

“She’s something else, isn’t she?”

“She is.” He agrees.

“What does… trou de cul means?”

“No idea, man. But I think it’s French.”

After the last incident, it’s like everything had went quiet and Escobar was even more careful. So, she didn’t find much as she sat on the phone, listening carefully to the fast-paced Spanish. A veiny hand grabs the phone from her grasp and sets it down. She looks up at Javier.

“Hope you brought comfortable clothes. We have physical training today.”

“I don’t. How nice of you to tell me in advance.”

He shrugs. Cocky bastard. A cocky bastard who had already changed in shorts and a tight kaki t-shirt.

“Guess this will have to do.” She mutters as she gets up and rolls up her sleeves to free her arms.

She follows Javier to the gym, where a few people are already in duos practicing close combat. There was also another room connected and separated by a window, where they could see people training to shoot.

“Who am I fighting?”

“Me.” Responds Javier. “And I won’t go easy on you.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. How do we determine the winner?” She asks as she takes off her shoes while Javier positions himself on the carpet, taking a solid stance.

“When one of us successfully disarms the other.” 

She nods and observes where his gun is ridiculously poking out of his pants. Some people had stopped fighting and were starting to stare in their direction. A lot of the men thought that the fight would be unfair, and the girl would lose.

She noted that she also had a small knife hidden in her bra. She always had one. It would be useful against Javier.

The man strikes first, and she falls to the ground in a loud thud. She tries to ignore how heavy his body feels on her. She also ignores the public’s reaction.

She lets him think he’s winning, until the moment he’s reaching for her belt. Her hands grab his wrists in a solid grasp, her legs roll him over and he’s stuck under her as she puts all her weight on him. She lets go of his wrists and holds her arm against his throat, making it hard for him to breathe. He looks up at her, anger filling his gaze or… something else.

“You have to stop underestimating me.”

“You’re just a girl.”

A few boys let out a “woooo”.

Javier pushes her away and she falls on her back. He uses his legs to immobilize hers, trapping them in an impossible position. His chest presses against her back, trapping her on the ground. She fights with all she’s got, and when he reaches for her belt again, she pulls out the knife from her bra, still in its case, and she aims for Javier’s arm, grazes it.

The surprise destabilizes him, and she feels him weaken just long enough for her to take over again. He falls on his back and she sit her ass on his stomach. She takes off the case from her knife, aims for his balls but she plants it in the carpet between his legs instead. She turns just enough to see his stunned face as she takes his gun from him and gets up. Everyone starts clapping.

She holds her hand out to him and he takes it to get up. She swears she can see redness creeping up his neck, a deep feeling of shame settling in. She grabs the collar of his shirt and brings him close to whisper:

“Always protect your balls and expect your opponent to have more weapons on them.”

#javier pena #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena x oc #javier pena x f!oc #javier pena x female oc #javier pena x yn #javier pena x y/n #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #javier pena smut #exile

[harrywavycurly]

Hello my darling Sarah! So I’m here to simply ask you to combine the best of both worlds and hit us with some conversations with Eddie but make them about Wayne😂 love you and thank you💕

Hiii babes!! Ask and you shall receive!! Love youuu more and you’re so very welcome!! Enjoy💖

*You and Wayne will be the reason Eddie gets gray hair before he’s thirty*

“Wayne called me and told me he saw you on the roof? Tell me he’s high on his cough meds again.” “Oh it was one time Eddie you have to let that go.” “You’re avoiding the question baby…” “i had to fix one of the lights…it was causing the whole strand to blink all wonky like.” “Sweet fucking Jesus you were actually on the roof?” “Only for a brief amount of time…Wayne came and yelled at me so I got down.” “You need a babysitter when I’m not home.” “I thought that’s what Wayne was for?” “You managed to get on the roof so he’s obviously not doing a good job.” “On a brighter note all of our Christmas lights look great now.”

“So Wayne told me you were a horrible toddler is that true?” “He told you what?” “He said that you were stubborn and had tantrums.” “Stubborn? He must’ve gotten me mixed up with himself.” “Right…” “why were you two talking about me as a toddler anyway?” “I was just curious on how our kids would act one day and he just said we should hope they turn out more like me.” “You’re the stubborn one out of the two of us sweetheart so maybe they should be like an even mixture of us?” “So like…your hair and my personality?” “Exactly.”

“How was lunch with Wayne?” “It was great I made that cheesy rice casserole he loves and some cookies.” “Damn all that for him and I’m sitting over here eating ham and cheese?” “Sorry I only have the capacity to cook for one Munson man at a time and today it was Wayne.” “I get it…so what did you two talk about over this casserole?” “Ya know..stuff.” “Stuff? What kind of stuff?” “Just things.” “Stuff and things huh?” “Yup nothing for you to worry about.” “Too late for that baby. You two make me nervous.”

“He told me I could do it.” “I swear to god the two of you can’t be left unsupervised.” “Don’t be so dramatic Eddie it’s not a big deal.” “It’s not a big deal? Wayne let you use a chainsaw and you’re not seeing how that’s a big deal?” “I wanted to help him cut some branches down he was out there for over an hour.” “You’ve never used a power tool in your life and he thinks it’s okay to just hand you the same tool they made a whole horror movie franchise about? He’s lost his fucking mind.” “I didn’t kill anyone with it I just got to cut off a few branches and it was kinda fun.” “Fun? Wielding a chainsaw was fun?” “Yeah i felt really badass and Wayne said I looked cool.” “I can’t…I just…you two are going to be the fucking death of me.” “I’m sorry you came home and saw me but just know he was out there the whole time you just…caught him when he went to get some more water.” “Oh sure yeah he was watching you the whole time…this is the same man who didn’t realize he left me at the mini mart until he was home and looking for me to ask if I’d seen his cigarets when I was like ten.” “That’s you…he’s different with me. I’m his favorite.” “You’re everyone’s favorite sweetheart. Did he at least give you safety glasses?” “You mean sunglasses? Yes.” “Sunglasses?…thats it…you two are grounded from each other for a week.”

#Eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #wayne munson #wayne munson x reader #eddie munson x you fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson request #eddie and wayne munson #eddie munson concept #fiancé eddie munson #my little dungeon master baby

[grimparks]

Chapter 3:

Just a Little note to say that because there is a remake of the au, some information in the old chapter are not canon anymore so I have to remake them, anyway enjoy your Christmas gift!

Narrator- the next day as promised, Kyle went to see the guys he knew that could help him and the new guy to actually find Stan and Clyde

Kyle- that should be that house… just hope that he hasn't moved…

*ding*

Kyle- …

???- yes hello…

Kyle- are you uh… The Mole ?

Christophe- WHO GIVES YOU THAT ? Wait … WHAT ARE YOU ?

Narrator- Christophe took his shovel to put the sharp side right under Kyle face in a fast way

Christophe- you’re not a human… either a hybrid…

Christophe- what kind of anomaly are you…

Kyle- I… I don't know ! It just happened one day and pouf!

Christophe- not enough…

Christophe- i want a really answer NOW

Kyle- I’M HERE FOR THE NEW GUY STOP

Christophe- uh ? Pardon ?…

Kyle- stop with your shovel dude ! I’m just some kind of superhuman I don't know ! You're some kind of goddamn WEREWOLF. WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO ?!

Christophe- pff…

Christophe- I’m not a werewolf dude, I’m a fox, un renard!

Christophe- whatever, you’re right what do you want ?

Kyle- so um… i… the new guy and i need your help to infiltrate the police station, at night, to get some documents…

Christophe- uh uh

Kyle- so ?…

Christophe- why do you want to get there, what kind of paper do you need ?

Kyle- it’s about Stan March and Clyde Donovan disappearing.

Christophe- Okay…

Christophe- so, how much am i paid ?

Kyle- wait what ?!

Christophe- yeah, the new guy helped me one time so it’s okay for me to help her, but not you.

Kyle- i think it’s “they” actually… but, come on… what do you want, how much ?

Christophe- they are okay with anything so shut your mouth…

Christophe- and uh… a package of cigaret

Kyle- that’s all ?

Christophe- yes, you know with the price getting more and more expensive and all that stuff… and my stupid mom doesn't want to buy me those…

Kyle- yeah okay okay I’m going to pay you that

Christophe- yipee

Kyle- anyway, there will be a reunion tomorrow at the new guy home at… uh 10PM. You can come ?

Christophe- uhhhh… je crois, uh, yes i can.

Kyle- awesome!

Christophe- i can’t believe a human can see hybrid that’s incredible

Christophe- mind if i smoke ?

Kyle- um… no it’s okay

Christophe- cool

Christophe- need anything else ?

Kyle- yes actually, do you remember the theater kid that was at my school and who was with Wendy Testaburger ?

Kyle- the one that gave me your card.

Christophe- Oh… that faggot… why do you need him ?

Kyle- well, he was maybe annoying but he was good to create infiltration plan so… yeah

Christophe- i see…

Christophe- yep, i know where that gay ass lives… come on follow me

Kyle- if you have anything else to do that’s okay.

Christophe- dude i was watching a shitty French comedy…

Kyle- oh okay let’s go then!

Narrator- meanwhile all of that the new guy was just doing their usual stuff

Narrator- like robbing a laboratory

*alarm ringing*

Security 1- how haven’t we seen him ?!

Security 2- I don't know man! He just appeared from nowhere !

Security 1- god damn, that guy is fast !

Security 1- what has he stolen ?

Security 2- the last experience of the boss

Security 2- the guy is exiting the building ! GET THEM NOW

New guy- HAHA, see you loser !

Narrator- they broke the window of the building to finish in a little street not so far away.

Security 1- EVERYONE, HE GOT OUT OF THE BUILDING

New guy- HAHAHA, HILARIOUS

New guy- so… what is this…

New guy- oh… shiny, why does that idiot need that ? I mean…

New guy- he’s smart he could create it himself.

New guy- little sus

New guy- oh someone tried to call me… again… Kyle ? Oh yeah, that’s right I’m supposed to search for Stan and Clyde i forgot…

New guy- uh… should call him before or after i go home…

Security 1- not a move…

New guy- hehe, guess I’ll do that after…

New guy- ready to play my dudes ?!

Narrator- Kyle finally arrived to his destination following Christophe during all that time

Kyle- you’re sure it’s here ?

Christophe- sure, nobody have a note under their name that say « incredible actor »

Kyle- you’re right

*ding*

Kyle- …

Kyle- he’s not-

Gregory- greeting ! Who is here WHOA- WHY IN THE WORLD A HUMAN CAN SEE-

Christophe- come on dude, he heard that all day give him a break

Gregory- i uh… my mistake…

Gregory- wait a sec… you’re one of Stan's friends ?! Dude, you know I hate those guys !

Christophe- uh… actually he came to ask for your help…

Gregory- really ?! Interesting… So what do you want ?

Kyle- actually it’s the new guy that sent me here-

Gregory- EVEN BETTER ! So what is it ?! You got my attention.

Kyle- um… you see the new disparition thing ?

Gregory- yes… Stan is finally gone ! Is a good thing !

Kyle- um…

Christophe- i forgot to mention he hates Stan

Kyle- never mind… uh… the new guy needs to find a private case in the police station about uh… someone… and we need YOU to create a plan to break in !

Gregory- um… it must be Pocket… okay I’m in !

Kyle- who’s tha-

Gregory- I’m sure we’re gonna make a great team together !

Christophe- urg…

Kyle- WAIT, who’s Pock-

Gregory- it reminds me of so many great memories!

Gregory- is there a meaning organized ?

Kyle- um… yes tomorrow at 10PM

Gregory- oki… see you too then ! Especially you Christophe, it’s been a while!

Christophe- la ferme abruti

Gregory- i still don’t speak baguette…

Christophe- just go back in, you idiot!

Narrator- let's go see what the new guy is up too while all this is going on

New guy- HAHHAHA, comedy

New guy- where was i… oh yes call Kyle and get my alcohol stock back!

New guy- i really look like my mom uh ?…

New guy- YEAH NO, you’re not looking like that BITCH… hehe…

Narrator- on their way back in town ready to go into all the alcohol shops to buy every bottle of vodka and red wine she actually got a call from Kyle.

*bip*

New guy- yes ? Hello, Euphonie on the phone…

Kyle- hello… yeah i got the two guys i talk to you about into the plan.

New guy- FANTASTIC! Can I know who they are ?

Kyle- i don’t think you know them actually-

New guy- pff- dude, i know everyone in the town! And most people know me from the wanted poster on all other walls !

Kyle- oh then, it’s Gregory Bellarose and Christophe … uh, i don’t know his complete name…

New guy- OH, these two dumb dumb! Interesting… it’s gonna be even more fun…

Kyle- yeah yeah… just do you know someone who is good in computer science to maybe hack into the police station system ?

New guy- i… uh…

New guy- i can try…

Kyle- i thought that maybe Kenny could help us but… his parents have a divorce so i don’t want to disturb him.

New guy- yeah yeah… I can try to call someone but I don't think he can…

Kyle- okay okay… thank you by the way.

New guy- that’s my job dude, don’t worry !

New guy- anyway, i have stuff to do so see you tomorrow !

*bip*

New guy- where was i… oh yeah

New guy- mom stuff…

Narrator- a good hour flew by as the new guy come back home with a lot of all kind of alcohol

New guy- I'M BACK ! HAHA, no one there of course…

New guy- oh i need to call my buddy i forgot…

New guy- beep boop bap

*phone calling sound*

???- hello ?

New guy- hii, how are ya doing ?

???- uh… good and you ?

New guy- Goood, I put the shiny blue sphere in your mailbox as you wanted !

???- wait… YOU’VE TOUCHED IT ???

New guy- calm down… i just looked at it really quick but that's all i swear…

???- Great…

New guy- …

New guy- why…

New guy- why do you need it so bad ?…

???- …

???- you don’t need to know…

New guy- Terrance… we haven’t talked for months and… you just come back out of nowhere for me to get you that…

Terrance- that’s your job, i just… i can’t tell you that

New guy- i guess i don’t deserve to know it then hehe…

Terrance- let’s just say it’s dangerous stuff…

New guy- really…

New guy- i could…

New guy- help you ? Maybe…

Terrance- no… no need

New guy- of course…

New guy- oh ! By the way, I have to ask you something !

New guy- you see the late disparition ? Well I got put on the case and me and my team need yoouuu to maybe hack the police computer system !

New guy- what do you think ?

Terrance- i uh…

Terrance- i can’t

*weird background sound on Terrance side*

Terrance- uh ?

Terrance- where is she ?

New guy- is something wrong ?

New guy- hello ?!

Terrance- uh … i need to go

New guy- Terrance what’s wrong ?!

Terrance- I’m sorry please forgive m-

*cut*

New guy- oh…

Terrance- hello ?!

Terrance- Euphonie ?! You’re here

???- hi you !

End of chapter 3

#artists on tumblr #my art #south park #south park au #grimpark #kyle brovlofski #the new guy #christophe south park #gregory south park #terrance mephesto

[hyperfreaksating]

Stag Party: Buggy: Yes

The hangover isn’t even a good movie but also a scenario of „Cabaji, Buggy+ Strawhat Bois loose Zoro before the wedding, which usually wouldn’t even be too much of an issue but Zoro got the rings“ is pretty damn funny

(Originally thought of them loosing Buggy but let’s be honest if someone goes missing during a Stag Night it’s Zoro)

It's maybe because I'm currently doing my yearly rewatch of How I met your mother and Red look a bit like lily aldreen to me but reading you I can't help but think about a mix between the hangover and Marshall stag night.

Picture this :

Buggy had planned a perfect stag night. The usual drinking feast with his crew on the big top, without his soon to be wife and children. But Red was like "oh hun please take Zoro, Sanji, Luffy and Usopp with you. They're really sad I don't wanna do any party on my side. They'll behave themselves don't worry. I'll just spend a quiet night drinking wine and plan wedding with Franky and Robin." He tries to say no but she gave him THE WIFE GLARE TM.

.... A few hours later you can find a flabbergasted Buggy in some tavern. Luffy is eating his twentieth dish of the night. Sanji is unconscious on the ground, face covered in blood because a stripper smiled to him. Usopp is telling to the bartender how he's actually the best man for the ceremony and - wait, no he's actually gonna OFFICIATE the ceremony since he's the captain of both the Sunny and the big top. Zoro went to the toilets hours ago and now he's nowhere to be seen. Chopped is crying in a corner why DID THEY HAVE TO TAKE HIM FOR FUCK-

Cabaji awkwardly pats the back of his captain as the lighten cigaret of sanji is starting a fire in the tavern.

Everything's fine.

#buggy the clown #redbomb family #one piece oc #captain buggy #buggy one piece #redbombshipping #Redbomb #ask sid Glorious #one piece

[burntheupholstery]

love is when they fight, and when they sing

fic, wip. gen, but if i write more it'll be headed into the vicinity of maki/nobara and yuuji/gojo, block/scroll if you don't ship. I ignore basically all the death states in anime and manga and no, i'm not caught up.

*

They say that after disaster, there will be time to grieve.

So wait. Hurry up and wait.

When it was all over, Yuuji visits his teacher in the hospital.

Well. First Yuuji sleeps for about a week. He's still a growing boy, after all. Then he eats the equivalent of something in the ballpark of an small bear.

On the way, he wakes Maki, and they buy a cart's worth of flowers for everyone, bed-ridden or otherwise, then they head off to the hospital.

Gojo Satoru was not in good shape. Nobara won't have any ground to accuse him of having flawless skin now-- not that shems in any better conditon; she'd been in the hospital longer than him.

Yuuji spends maybe ten seconds staring at his teacher's ruined face. Them he turns away and fusses with the vase and the flowers. He has a curious sense of slipping out of time; the curtains here are blue, but from the corner of his eyes they seem tinged with the yellow rays of the setting sun.

He checks the time: it's two minutes past eleven.

Shoko Ieiri is there too, when Yuuji goes looking in the corners of Gojo's private ward. She was holed up in the bathroom, smoking. Spent cigarete buds litter the ground around her no-nonsense footwear; it looked as though they'd been multiplying through budding. The bathroom smelled of like a shrine, if the incense was heavy-duty tobacco. Her eyes are redder than usual.

"Heya," she says, before Yuuji can flee. "How you holding up?"

Yuuji does a double take, then points at himself. Who, me?

"Last time I saw you--" here she paused and affected an exaggerated thinking pose. Her eyebags had eyebags. "--well. Let's just say you look a stiff wind away from the state you were in last time I saw you. How's it? Need another injection of R.C.T.?" She takes another drag from her cigarette and waggles the fingers of her free hand.

"Ah, I'm good, no need to worry," Yuuji says, hurriedly extracting himself from the bathroom. Shoko Ieiri shrugged and lit another cigarette and when Yuuji closed the door, it was like he no longer existed in her world.

Which, no matter how surprisingly well he felt given all that's happened, might as well have been true.

Almost everybody Yuuji knew was in the hospital. (Or in the ground.) In the long stretches of time between hospital visiting hours, he'd absolutely nothing to do. In some ways, it was like nothing had changed from when this all began. So, in lieu of joining after-school clubs -- Tokyo Jujutsu High was in complete shambles and there'd been no talk of rebuilding, especially with all their funds sitting in some Swiss bank, no doubt under Mei Mei's name - he's taken up a brand new hobby: reading.

He started with his and Megumi and Nobara's health reports. It'd been page after page of bad news and bad news and more bad news, but at least he could put words to their situations now. For example, he knew the names of approximately one hundred and twenty more bones than before!

But the health reports quickly ran out, and before he knew it he was reading death reports. The names flashed by. Nanami Kento. Utahime. Mai Zenin. Mechamaru - or, Kokichi Muta.

Suguru Geto.

The door slides open. Maki comes in with two cups of hospital canteen coffee and a file clamped under her arm. As he takes a cup, there's the sound of a tap being turned on. Maki raises an eyebrow at him; he shrugs. Since he's not alarmed, Maki settles into the uncomfortable plastic chairs and together, they listen to Gojo's heart monitor beep.

The bathroom door opens and Ieiri steps out, looking like death on two legs. On her way out, she checks Gojo's chart. From the way her jaw works, she's wishing for another cigarette.

She nods to them as she leaves.

After a while, sipping the coffee, Yuuji's thoughts wander. Both Zenin he knew drank their coffee black; could it be a clan trait? He nearly opens his mouth ask how Mai had taken her coffee before his brain catches up, and he snaps his jaw shut. Maki rolls her eyes.

"How'd you know I would be here?" he asks, instead, to fill the silence.

Maki picks at a scab on her arm. The file lies unopened in her lap. The top paper was a report on Toge's health. Yuuji scans it. It does not look good, but Toge has both feet firmly on the side of alive, which was more than can be said for a majority of their friends.

Or the man on the hospital bed, actually.

"You visit this idiot about as often as I visit Kugisaki," Maki says, proving once again that having a supernatural gift for timing is just something that Zenin possess.

Yuuji thinks about this. "We should visit Megumi more. He might get lonely."

This makes Maki snort. After a bit, she says, "Mei Mei is flying in tomorrow." Tomorrow was Utahime's turn on Ieiri's table. Maki says nothing else, just closes her eyes and kicks her feet up on Gojo's bed.

Yuuji nods. There's nothing else to say.

#what kind of smoker am i? i misspelled tobacco five times and had to look it up #my writing #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

[rocketrouquine]

Random thoughts on my second viewing of episode 2 :

The « you wear fine things well » replay : Taika hasn’t the same expression, when I tell you this is a different take, I’ll bet my script supervisor ass on it. If they did that, it’s for underlining the fact that they weren’t seeing the same thing in the relationship…

Stede, my sweet angel… maybe don’t tell everyone you meet (even your lovely towel collegues Maggie, Jane and Tiff) about your heart trouble with fucking Blackbeard.

The way he’s saying « they draw him to look like a ghoul » is so sooooo gay. Like disgusted sassy sista level.

Fuck you that’s how I am may or may not become a motto of mine.

Actually this whole scene, Lucius is in a fucking telenovela. The stop in the doorframe, talking across your shoulder without turning and the little disappointed head nod at the end. « oh, yeah. Now you care ? » (it just missed an hairflip) He came to ham and I’m here for it.

Sea witch again. I mean we actually saw him talking with birds last season so why the surprise.

Ed behind Frenchie in every room like a fucking dead child jumpscare in leather.

He’s actually terrifying all calm and smiling. You can sense that he can turn at every second. Like a MF snake (you know the ones, fuck yuuuuu)

Sir when you approach me like that, all analytical and stuff, I don’t think there’s anything I won’t let you do to me (imagine Ed turning this on Stede in the bedroom pffffiouuu)

*Wheeze « A panto ? » (give this man an Oscar)

I really have trouble with « he’s our dick ».. you are aware that this is the man who had absolutely no problem stranding your love on an island ? Who pushed for it, even ? That in the memory you evoke, he’s the only one not sitting with you all, all alone in the background sulking ? I guess if you consider him like the nasty old dog who bites everyone and barks all the time, I can see it…

You have hope, it’s cute . Archie is actually really interesting because she represents the classic pirate (like Ed’s crew before being Stedefied), being put amongst the crew of what she thinks is probably the rockstar of captains but they do things all weird and emotional (between bloodbaths). You can see that she’s tempted but also don’t hesitate to throw the first punch in the battle to the death because that’s how stuff goes.

Take the fucking leg (« …bitch » very much implied)

The little ships were all over the place. They kinda treat Olu like a himbo this season which if my memories serve me right was the opposite of what he was last season. (He’s still emotionally intelligent but the logical sense seems to have gone. In this scene anyway)

Every time a new character says China, I cannot take out of my mind that they are mocking Trump. (Roach’s one in particular was spot on)

Awwww Olu’s all bashful and shit, I’m sure he’s moving his shoe on the ground, like a little shy child.

Stede, All happy about the soup : So wild it’s insane ! Lucius, eyes rolling to the back of his head : Jesus Christ, Stede, keep your pants on. * gets up and go drag on his cigaret like an old nihilist prostitute. * Ahahaha! Lucius is so done with Stede, I can’t ! He reminds me of me with my mom when I was a teenager. (I was horrible)

shitty pathetic incompetent captain  Holy shit, this burn must have dried up the ocean and that’s why they have to drag the boat on land.

The Oookay of Black Pete must be studied.

I had a dream about you last night  and with that phrase, all Blackhands shippers burst into flames. To then die a horrible death for the next minutes and being turned to dust at … best I could. (Also, If I had told you about « good for you » « it was good for me » I don’t think this is how you would have envision it)

But seriously the acting in this scene was INSANE. (I mean more than good, I mean stellar)his laugh is haunting me.

Wait… wait.. is he doing the romcom trope of being horrible to him so that he would leave, to protect him ? but instead he tortures him until he has no choice but to kill him ? Ed, darling, you basic trope girl.

Yeah I guess we could call it closure. Hum.

Yeah, I am ! And I’m alone ! Don’t be like me. Stede has evolved SO MUCH. I’m actually very much hopeful about the discussion he’s going to have with Ed. It won’t be miscommunication bullshit.

The puppet game… Something tells me Lucius won’t like to listen to Pinocchio anymore. Don’t even ask him to make any voice. Stede! The hand went where you think!

Well, Hello back little black scarf which goes with everything ! Especially with the ultimate descent into the pitts of madness and despair.

Stede is choosing « alive » on Blackbeard old poster : thank you, magic of belief, for saving Ed’s life !

There’s a drawing, I repeat, he doodled Ed’s face amongst little bouts of emo poetry… oh stede.

Beheading, arsoning, just a little bit of a dick love of his life.

HE’S NOT BROKEN. SHUT UP !

calm down, you two, with the head against head : you kissed once. In the words of spicy rat boy « Jesus Christ keep your pants on »

Romance novel cover one legged indestructible little fucker Izzy under the rain.

IZZY’S HEAD ON FANG’S SHOULDER AS THEY ARE KILLING ED, WHAT !

After the pyramid scheme, Olu being the get away text.

Okay, on to the next. It will be a fucking novel.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #ofmd spoilers #our flag means death season 2 #thoughts #second viewing #ofmd meta #i had notes

[galactic-academia]

Love One Another (As I Have Loved You)

Continuation to Finding God and Divine Wrath

Rating: M; minors, pass your way.

Category: F/M

Fandom: The Young Pope

Relationship: Lenny Belardo x F!Reader

Tags: language, sexy times drowned into metaphors, angst, unrequited (?) love, Chrismas mass, Reader smokes cigaret and has hair long enough to get pulled; TW: rejection, loneliness. Read as "The author chose not to warn for content, or Archive Warnings could apply, but the author has chosen not to specify them" on AO3. Don't hesitate to message me to get more informations if you want to read this story but don't feel like starting it without full warnings.

Words: 873

Notes: Set before Lenny became pope, but after he became Cardinal and the Archbishop of New York. Don't blame me, blame the Noots (don't, for I love my Noots).

Masterpost | Ask | Guidelines |

This is ridiculous.

You and Lenny… It has always been complicated. You’re both piggy-headed and have far too much pride for anything between the two of you being a bed of roses, even without considering his situation. But this outdoes all the shit you’ve come through.

There, on a Christmas day, you’re chain-smoking on your couch while glaring at your TV. Monseigneur Belardo is celebrating mass into St Patrick’s Cathedral before thousands of believers, since the whole affair is broadcasted on TV. And truly, this is ridiculous. 

He’s been babbling for almost an hour now, about love, and peace, and forgiveness and you would laugh your heart out if you weren’t so goddamn mad. Please, Lenny Belardo doesn’t know shit about peace and has never practiced forgiveness. As for love… He shouldn’t be authorized to even spell the fucking word.

The first time you fucked Lenny, long before he became the a Cardinal and the Archbishop of New York, it wasn’t about love. Transgression, yes; sacrilege, certainly; but “love” was never mentioned. But when he cupped your hips in his large, almost trembling hands to receive the bestowal of your body like he would hold the chalice with the wine become blood of Christ; when he came to your altar as often - in not more - as he went to Jesus’ one, maybe it didn’t need to be told? Maybe Lenny didn’t need words and labels to love you.

What a fool you have been.

When Lenny’s been called to a “higher destiny” than the one he had in your humble city, you followed him. No question asked. You left your job and you sold your house and you came to New-York, ready for a new life, and you weren’t afraid, for Lenny was with you. Should have been with you.

But you wouldn’t believe what a fucking cardinal has to do. Meetings, business trips, phone calls to one end of the world and then the other. Masses, benedictions, public appearances, preachings… Maybe he has some time to pray, while he’s brushing his teeth… 

He didn’t have time for you, and his secretary was beginning to be rude with you; when she hung up on you after one too many calls to his office, you lost it. You went to his place and cried for him until the security came and tried to make you leave and Lenny stopped them. For the first time in weeks, he finally was before you.

You weren’t prepared to get sermonized.

“This is my life, now”, he has said, “I’m a servant of God and I must honor Him”.

And it hurts you to think back about it now, the tears in your eyes and the tremor in your voice when you told him “I thought you loved me”. What a stupid thing to say in the first place…

“I only love God.”

Now, it seems laughable how, the closer to God he thinks to get, the more his heart desiccates. It didn’t make you laugh, then.

To see him spout all that nonsense in front of an adoring audience, it riles you up. You can feel it simmer low in your belly. Isn’t he pretty, that bastard, all in white; an albino peacock doing a cartwheel in front of its court. And that smile… You’ll never get tired of that smile. It calls troubles, fun troubles; a bratty behavior met with a few, powerful slaps and a punishing pace. You can almost still feel his hand pulling on your hair.

Fuck, you liked it when he lost control over himself and get a little rough with you. You suspect he came harder when he could see tears rolling down your cheeks.

As the choir ends and Lenny comes back to his pulpit, opening his arms and making his voice vibrate through the cathedral, you can’t help but rub your thighs together. It’s been too long. And why not, after all? Isn’t Christmas about love? It would be relevant, for once, giving yourself some love on Christmas day, yeah? So you drown out Lenny’s soliloquy - the man has always been his better audience, anyway - and let your fingers play another anthem; your eyes never leaving his angelic face.

You push yourself over the edge quickly, never better served than by yourself, yeah? Well… It’s efficient, at least. In a haze you see the assembly get up and turn to each other to shake hands, kiss on the cheeks - sometimes both - and Lenny stays there, petrified. Alone, standing high in a storm of people bending toward each other, let in peace to witness his fellow human beings show affection to one another. Just as he asked them to.

And, once again, you would laugh - if you couldn’t feel your heart shattering into your chest. He looks both so majestic and lonely in the center of that magnificent cathedral, surrounded by those ethereal lights. You miss him.

Not five minutes after the end of the Service, as you’re still breathing a little hard, your phone lights up and starts to vibrate. You shouldn’t pick up, not after the crap he dumped on you.

You shouldn’t pick it up.

You shouldn’t pick it up.

You shouldn’t pick it up.

You shoul-

Back to The Young Pope Masterlist

#jude law #the young pope #the young pope fanfiction #lenny belardo #lenny belardo x reader #the new pope #the new pope fanfiction #priest kink

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

My final thought on Vilnius rehearsal.. (might be a bit long 🌺)

My tumblr habit is to post a few things in the morning before i go to work, and then the rest after work in the evening. This morning i shared a few posts/asks i got about Richard at the Vilnius rehearsal. During the day i received several more asks on the subject, anon and non-anon, with possible explanations, support or comments on this morning's asks.

Normally i share all the asks i get, because i believe every opinion is valid. But i've decided to not do that in this case (apologies to everyone who took the time to send me an ask about it today) and only share one last thought on the Vilnius rehearsal.

I ❤️ Rammstein, I ❤️ their music, they make me happy (and sometimes sad, in a good way, if you're a Rammstein fan, you probably know what i mean).

I want the band to love playing for us, i want them to be happy that we're happy, i want them to have fun.

In general in bands i love watching guitarists at work, i love to watch the stuff that goes on in the background, and Rammstein is no exception, but i love each of the guys, for various reasons.

In the last few tours, the band visibly had fun on stage, all of them laughed a lot, there were little asides when one or other didn't follow the script 😊 little gettogethers, teases, little pranks.

I love that, it makes watching them live even more fun than just listening to their albums.

From the Vilnius rehearsals, the first clips i saw, during the show, what people filmed with their smartphones, were clips of everyone enjoying themselves, apart from one: Richard.

Richard seemed to me in his own bubble, looking at the audience, but hardly interacting with anyone on stage, constantly turning away to the people in his own corner. Some of the fun interactions we saw in the last tours, he completely skipped, didn't make eye contact, ignored what others were doing, especially Paul who is always easiest to interact with because of his playfulness.

That hurt. Physically hurt.

It shouldn't have, but it did.

To me it looked like he was ready to leave the band alltogether, right there and then, before the tour even started

Yes, i'm an even bigger dramaqueen than he is 😊 but that was what it felt like, just from watching these clips.

It took a long time, and several chats in support with others in the fandom (you know who you are, thank you for that 🌺), to come to terms with what i'd seen from the clips.

And then Richard resumed his weekly ig posting with an old pic of him smiling, relaxed with his cigaret 'on the road again'....and i breathed a sigh of relief...okay, he's not quitting.

Richard has no idea how his bubble came across to me, will never know. He was just doing his thing at rehearsal, going through the songs in the right order, making the costume changes work, fiddling with his sound. Didn't seem to have fun, but maybe wasn't even looking for it. Had i just seen the photos that have been posted later by various people, i probably wouldn't even have reacted this strongly...it was those earlier clips that did it.

Today on my way to work i realised that in the end: my fun should not be depending on whether *he* is having fun. I'm responsible for my own fun, like he is for his. I want to fly to Vilnius, shake him and tell him "Enjoy this damn thing", but they'd probably intercept me before i even got there 😊 I hope he's more open to it, able to leave his bubble.

I want the band to have fun on tour. All of them. And i would love to see fun interactions between them because they so obviously show the fun.

I really hope Richard joins in the fun, that he makes that choice.

Like my fun is my choice 🌺

I ❤️ Rammstein

#vilnius rehearsal #long rammble

[paradoxcase]

@korla-the-kenku:

As yet unsent is the short story that takes place in the middle of the book

Oh, is this going to explain what Camilla and Corona and Judith were doing on that random planet?

@wellhappybirthdaytomeiguess:

So it’s implied I think that Pyrrha always made sure her eyes were not seen when she took over Gideon’s body. For example, when she was dallying with Wake-in-Cytherea, she never turned around to face Harrow…

Sure, but Harrow spoke face-to-face with both of them during and after the incinerator incident, and she would have noticed if their eyes had changed, wouldn't she?

@eye-lantern:

I think the packet Pyrrah mention is the one with the cigarets. There is a theory about Gideon not smoking, and that every time he does, it's Pyrrah. It would explain his nod after the diner where he got exploded.

That would make sense based on the fact that Pyrrha was the one who smoked, but I don't think there's enough information right now to say that Pyrrha would have done that little nod but Gideon wouldn't have. Like, I don't know. Gideon was only around for this one book, and for the most part we don't know for sure which things they did were him and which were Pyrrha, and for most of the book they were acting under orders from John anyway, and they both seem like they'd kind of be don't-rock-the-boat kind of people. I'm assuming Pyrrha gets more development in the next book, but do we ever get a good sense of what kind of person Gideon was? And if that was Pyrrha, then I think the other Lyctors would definitely have noticed the eye color change if there was one

@wellhappybirthdaytomeiguess:

The passage about the fight between little Gideon and little Harrow reminds me how, despite how unlikeable Harrow is in Gideon, how miserable her life has to be to contemplate suicide at ten years old. :-(

Yeah. And the way Gideon is talking about it there, it sounds like maybe she is feeling guilty that she might have made Harrow feel that way because of what she said

I THINK the bit at the end with Harrow in the tomb is intended to imply she is putting herself in the same place where Gideon spent time in her mind. And she knows the magazine isn’t real because she knew the mags Gideon got. She talked at one point about them being really bad. Methinks she protests too much :-p

Why would the Tomb feature in this fantasy, then? Or is it just sort of the implication that Gideon hanging out in her head for the whole book added some stuff to Harrow's mental space, or something like that?

@racefortheironthrone:

@wellhappybirthdaytomeiguess Regarding the magazines, I've seen a couple different theories, all involving Harrow secretly perusing them under the guise of some official function: one theory is that Gideon was getting the mags via tampering with requisition letters and that Harrow was aware of it and signed off of the titles anyway, another theory is that Harrow regularly searched Gideon's cell and would just "confiscate" the stuff under her mattress, etc.

A+ theories, I love it

@wandering-minx:

Re John's eye color in the 21st century. It actually has an explanation in Nona. Re: Harrow's knowledge on dirty magazines there is a theory about how she could have this knowledge but it deals with spoilers from "The Unwanted Guest" short story to be read after Nona.

Ok, cool, I'll be interested to get to that

@eye-lantern:

Also yeah the dramatis personae from Nona is the key change that while it is still the same song, you are going to see a lot of new things

I can't wait for this, either. I know I've seen a few different names that looked BOE-like, but the only specific one I can remember right now is Hot Sauce

#the locked tomb #harrow the ninth #korla-the-kenku #wellhappybirthdaytomeiguess #eye-lantern #racefortheironthrone #wandering-minx

[whatthehelltony]

lowkey want to get a truck and drive it till the meter just hits empty but just before she shudders to a stop I’ll turn into the only gas station for miles and I’ll go inside and the night shift will be there moping the floor, a teenager and an old man. The kid will lean against his mop and look at me like I’m not the first one he’s seen come in at the witching hour of 3am. He’ll look at me like he knows where I’m going even though we both know I’m just driving til I reach the end of the earth which is know is close because of the man with a sign that said he was Jesus who gave me cigarette and pointed me north. And now I feel just a bit funny as I stumble through the gas station doors and the teenager looks at me like it isn’t past his bedtime and it’s perfectly normal to work such strange hours in high school. And I’ll shuffle to the counter and slap a wrinkled twenty dollar bill on the counter and tell the old man at the register to put it on pump three and he’ll tip his hat and say he overstocked on cigarettes and monster energies and If I’d like some for a good deal. And I’ll look at him like he’s the one who Jesus and think that maybe the man who pointed me towards the end of the earth was fibbing and I’ll tell the old man that yes I would like that very much and he’ll pull out a carton of cigarets and a pack of drinks and tell me it’s 25 cents and I’ll remember that I spent the last of my money on pump 3 but then I’ll look down and a see a quarter from 2012 heads up at my feet and I’ll think that maybe the four times I went to church payed off but then I’ll remember that I’m not religious and I stopped believing in anything other than hell a long time ago.