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#event: TIME 100 Gala
spideymjlove · 2 years
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Zendaya tonight at the Time 100 gala 😍
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londonspirit · 2 years
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Taika at the Time 100 Gala
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eyesxxyou · 9 months
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that's what they all say pt.2
↳ ❝ [dbf!miguel o'hara x black!reader] ¡! ❞
rating. m
word count. 4.1k
synopsis. you told yourself you were done with miguel after the way he left things week before. you were moving on, got yourself a new boyfriend and everything. that is, until you have to attend a gala with your father.
or
you and miguel have sex in the bathroom
warnings. p in v sex, unprotected sex (stay responsible), slapping, spitting, reader on top, miguel's a little bit of a simp, reader is mean :(, exhibitionalism (bathroom sex)
part one
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You haven’t seen Miguel in weeks and you didn’t want to either. Not after that night in your father’s house. Not after he turned you down flat right after you had let him into your body. Men, what are you gonna do about them? They take and take and take and never give anything in return. They expect you to give them everything; they want you to give all of you until you're dry and hollow, a husk of the person you once were.
You never let yourself consider that he has any bearing on the reason why you decided to haphazardly get into a relationship with the colleague from work that’s been pining over you for months now. You told yourself you were tired of being single—which, admittedly, isn’t a good reason to get in a relationship on its own. You weren’t all that attracted to him. He was fine on paper; nice, romantic, devoted, pretty decent-looking. But he was absolutely nothing compared to Miguel. A twig, really.
It’s not like you wanted to hurt the guy. You were just tired of moping around, thinking about a man who made it more than clear that he didn’t want to be with you. But you knew he was nothing you'd take seriously, not in the position you're in right now.
Yet, you introduce him to your dad as if any of this is going to go anywhere besides a messy break up in a few short months with you talking about, “it’s not you, it’s me” which would be 100% true in this case.
“I like him.” Your father says like that will sway you in any kind of way. “He seems like a good guy with good intentions.” You think about what your father might say if you told him right now that you didn’t care about whatever his name is and were only thinking about Miguel. Would it be shock or anger if you told him his best friend had your up against the family pictures, that grandma Margret’s urn was pushed off of the table to make room. Maybe both. Who would he be more upset with, you or Miguel?
Maybe your dad didn’t give your enough attention as a child, too wrapped up in his career to raise his daughter right. Now you want to fuck older men to get the attention you never before received. Coming home late, leaving to work early. That’s why your mom left, she couldn’t take it. You hardly saw him at all on the days he did have you.
“Is Nathaniel coming with you to this year’s gala?” Your father offhandedly mentioned to you. You didn’t care that he got your boyfriend’s name wrong (it was just Nathan), you were more focused on the gala he was talking about. Alchemax threw one every year and every year since your father has been working there, you’ve attended. Miguel would undoubtedly be there this year which meant you couldn’t be. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dad. I don’t think I’m even going this year.” You brush him off, fiddling with the ends of your hair.
He glances at you. “What do you mean? That’s nonsense, you come every year.” You hated that he always had to ask questions. You hated that he always asked questions at the worst times and never asked any when you needed his attention most.
"I don't want to go."
"You have to, sweetheart. I'm giving a big speech tonight and I want you to be there for me." He looked at you, pleading for you to cave like you always do. You always do. You sigh and grumble to yourself and go through your motions, but ultimately you agree because you love your father. The gala was always a big event. If you kept your eyes out, Miguel wouldn't be a problem. You could be there to support your father and keep face while avoiding him at all cost.
You always enjoyed the gala. The fancy dresses, the music, the gold and diamond chandeliers glittering. But coming in on Nathan's arm in a dress that matched his tie was probably the worst part of all of this. You despised how Miguel could ruin everything you once held so dear because of his mere presence. Even if you couldn’t see him, the fact that you knew he was here was enough because your eyes constantly sought him out against your own will.
“Y/N! There you are, I was wondering when you’d show up!” Your father was such a loud person, it was impossible not to hear him. But that’s why everyone liked him. He was smart, outgoing, and naturally magnetic. No one knows what it’s like to grow up on the other side of that though. So smart he thought he knew everything and often belittled your opinions, so loud that a step out of line meant a good tongue lashing, and magnetic that you're charmed by him despite the way he neglected you, you still loved him unconditionally.
He gave Nathan a firm slap on the back and kissed your cheek. “Come on, we got our table up front this year. Miguel’s going to be joining us. He’s around here somewhere but I haven’t found him yet. And none with your banter with him tonight, I don’t want a headache before I go up on stage.”
So much for avoiding him.
You swallow with so much anxiety it almost makes you choke. You keep looking around for him because you feel that if you spot him before he spots you then you’ll have more power over the situation, over him. You know it’s an illusion. The illusion of power, of control, of sanity. And it all comes crashing down as soon as you do pick him out of the crowd. It’s not hard. He’s such a hard person to miss with a stature and a face like his.
He was standing in a group of colleagues, standing with one hand in the pocket of his slacks and the other holding a champagne flute to his lips as he sipped. He looked unbearably sexy in that tuxedo of his, the lapel of his jacket folded crisply, not a single wrinkle in sight, his bowtie perched perfectly against his Adam’s apple, with his brown hair slicked back as much as it would allow. The worst part was that he was already staring at you, seeming to have long found you before you found him. And so much for the illusion of power.
It would be so much easier to hate him if he weren’t so beautiful, wouldn’t it? Looking at him made it so easy to forget how he left you in tears after using your body for his own selfish needs. Maybe it was a bit childish and naive of you to think he’d suddenly fall head over heels for you after fucking you in your father’s living room. You should have known he wouldn’t stay but a small part of you thought, maybe if you let him into your body…
You glare at him. Make it clear that you hold no soft feelings for him. “Let’s go sit down, Nathan.” You drag your temporary boyfriend to your assigned table.
People kept approaching the table to talk to your father, congratulating him over his second award in just two months. You kept yourself busy with Nathan, occasionally glancing about for Miguel to keep an eye on him but he moved around so often you couldn't keep up.
"Mi amigo!" Your father, as loud as he was, made his position clear. He always had to try out his cringe-worthy Spanish around his friend. Miguel was approaching the table, not looking at you but at Nathan sitting beside you. "Where's Gabriella? I thought you said you were bringing her."
"She wasn't feeling well and wanted to stay home. Who is that?" He breezed past the topic of his daughter and onto the topic of Nathan, the stranger you came in with hand in hand. His lips held a firmness to them that wasn't so uncommon to his face, he even had a wrinkle because he did it so much.
You see Nathan visibly grow taut beside you, his gaze nervously shifting about to avoid that of the man who made him so insufficient in every way. "What's it to you?" Your lip curled at him in distaste.
"Y/N." Your father's tone is pressing, warning you to cut it out. "This is Nathan, Y/N's new boyfriend. Good man." He gives Nathan another pat on the shoulder to show that they're on good terms. Miguel glances at you as the scowl on your lips press in harder. He looks as if to ask if this is the best you can do, or rather that he's below you. He simply hums and turns himself away.
How dare he? Who does he think he is? Turning his back on you like you were the one who told him he was just some immature child you'd never take seriously. You don't think you can stand being near him any longer.
"I'm gonna go get some champagne." You stand abruptly from your chair. You just need some air and a copious amount of alcohol. Your dress suddenly feels so constricting, a bit of sweat is beginning to gather on your hairline. Why are your hands so clammy and why do you suddenly feel so lightheaded?
You find yourself to the nearest server carrying a tray of champagne and begin to down as many glasses as you can get your hands on. It draws the attention of those around you, a few judging glances here and there. You couldn't imagine what you looked like, a messy drunk just like your father probably. God, you can't believe you're actually acting like your father now.
"Mía carina, stop." A large, warm hand comes to grab your wrist before you can grab your fourth flute. You hardly even register who it is grabbing you before you yank your arm from his hold. "Leave me alone, Miguel." You murmur, taking the last glass off the tray to bring it to your lips.
Miguel grabs you by the waist, muttering soft apologies for your actions to those around you as he begins to guide you towards the bathrooms. "Stop, you're going to embarrass yourself." He hissed at you, taking the glass out of your hand and placing it down on the tray of a passing server. He was so swift and agile for someone so large, getting you into the men's restrooms in record time.
You push yourself away from him the moment the two of you are in the closed space. "Have you ever thought I'm already embarrassed?" You couldn't stand being so close to him, smelling him the way you did when you were falling all over him, your fingers in his hair while you kissed, his tongue exploring every crevice of your mouth before his dick did the same and more. "You embarrassed me, Miguel. You realize that? You humiliated me."
“I let you touch me. I let you into my body. I let you…have me.” Why was it so hard to breathe? Why were you letting tears slip? Why were you giving him such satisfaction? But seeing you like this gave him no joy at all. It hurt him to see you hurt, breaking down because of something that never should have started in the first place.
Miguel couldn't bear to look you in the eyes, biting his lips because he knew that the way he did things was wrong and that he hurt you. He didn’t mean to. He didn’t want to. He was just trying to do the best thing for you, to not be selfish for once. Because all he's ever done his entire life was be some selfish bastard ruining people's lives and being irresponsible. Now he has a daughter because of his irresponsibility, a daughter without a mother because he couldn't save her, and you, his best friend's daughter.
He tried to reach out, tried to hold you, to comfort you, let you know that the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. “Mi corazón, I-” You pushed him away, beat against his chest, did everything in your power to remove him from your vicinity. “Get away from me.” He let you hit, punch, claw, scratch because he knew he deserved it.
You tore yourself away from him, angry and disgusted with him and yourself.
“Well, you got a boyfriend pretty quick so you couldn’t have been that broken up about it.” He’s bitter about Nathan. Seeing you all cozied up on his arm as you walked in. It stirred something in Miguel, sharp jealousy tasting like blood in his mouth. He hated it, despised the idea of you being with someone else, letting someone else fuck you.
You scoff and roll your eyes at him. “So what is it? Do you want me to be with someone my own age or do you want me?” Because at this point, all you wanted was to be wanted. “Choose one and stick with it because I’m not gonna to sit here and be at your fucking whim. You want me one second and then the other I’m too young and you’re too old and it won’t work out.”
You walk closer, pushing at Miguel’s chest. “I’m not your doll. I’m not.” You punctuate each word with a jab to his chest. “Your.” Jab. “Fucking.” Jab. “Toy.” You look at his lips, then his eyes, and back to his lips. “I hate you.” And you kissed him because what the hell? Why not act upon your most basic desires if it will lead to nothing anyway?
Miguel kissed you back, his hand slipping beneath your hair to hold the back of your neck and force you to stay just the way you are. There’s something utterly primal about the way you two kiss. You both know that everything going on here will not last. It’s the fiery hate you have for him and the pleading of him trying to make it up to you. The desire you have for him and his need to keep your life on track.
You bite until you break skin, until you taste his blood on your tongue, metallic and bitter. He keeps kissing you, knowing the wound isn't too bad, a slit in his lip from your teeth angrily biting at him. It was so violent, so angry, so hateful the way you two kissed, the way he tore away the zipper of your expensive dress trying to get it off of you.
It’s funny how you tear at each other's clothes with such desperation while claiming all the while you don’t want each other. You pull off Miguel’s tie, unbutton his shirt and pull the hem out of his pants before undoing his belt buckle. You want to feel his skin against yours, want to scar him, want to make him hurt. You want him to fuck you hard. Not like he means it but like he doesn’t.
He spares your dress for the most part, leaving it in one piece on the floor but he doesn’t offer the same kindness for your panties which he grabs and tears off your body with ease, the useless piece of flimsy lace fabric hanging off your ankle.
“Be quiet for me, can you do that, muñeca?” Miguel slipped his cock from the restraints of his pants, letting the length of it fall against your heat not yet prepared to take him. You scoff at him and slap his cheek not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to let him know you weren’t going to comply. “Fuck you.”
There was something in Miguel’s eyes that seemed to break, something dark and impatient that he had been holding back until now. “Oh– so it’s gonna be like that?” You suddenly realize how much bigger he is than you and how easy it would be for him to have his way with you. He kisses you again, tongue sliding against yours, your mixed saliva coming out from the seams of your interlocked lips.
His large hand is around your throat just like last time as he uses his free hand to slap you back, once, twice, leaving a stinging pain against your cheek. He forces you onto the counter, your legs on either side of his narrow hips as he slaps your pussy too in firm spanks leaving you puffy and aching. “This is my pussy, baby. You know that. Mine.” Miguel can’t imagine anyone else enjoying you, especially not that good for nothing idiot out there. He probably doesn’t even know you’re about to get railed. Sitting there so eagerly waiting for you to return.
“I thought you didn’t want it.”
“Oh, I definitely want it.”
You push him away from you to give yourself more room. "I want to ride you." You want the control this time, not to feel weak, not to be at his mercy to leave you the moment the heat of the moment cools down. He owes you that and he knows he does. That's why he gets up on the counter with little to no complaint and drags you up onto his lap as he leans against the mirror.
It feels odd being taller than him for once, having the upper hand, looking down at him with his kiss-swollen lips and exposed chest. His cock weighed heavy against your pelvis, displaying just how far into you he'd be going, his tip right against your belly button, smearing precum against your naval.
You spit on your hand, use it to spread between your lips. You can tell by the way he looks at you, watches your fingers graze against the length of his shaft, he wants you to touch him, spread your saliva across his sensitive tip and drag it down to the base of his cock. He wants you to have him shivering, shaking with the aftershock of an orgasm with just your hand. You don't give him the satisfaction.
"Put it in." You tell him, command him because he wants this way more than you do. Or at least– that's what you tell yourself. There's a reason why you unbuttoned his shirt, why you placed your hands on his bare chest, your fingers against his chest hairs. You wanted to know the human intimacy of touch, the beauty of it, the comfort.
Miguel maintains eye contact as he glides himself into you. You don't like it and certainly don't want it. You're cold towards him as you press your hips down and take more and more of him into you, buckling down. You don't want slow and intimate, you don't want his eye contact and his pet names.
It's not an easy task trying to take him. Your breathing hitches and your eyes flutter as you settle against his lap, readjusting your position to give yourself leverage. You rolled your hips against his, watching the way his brows furrowed and he tossed his head back, groaning softly. "Fu– fuck. God, mía carina."
Nothing about the way you fucked was loving or even implied a liking beyond a physical desire. Your nails grappled at his skin, using his broad shoulders as leverage as you bounced on his cock while you clawed at his skin all at the same time. But Miguel forced intimacy, held your face to make you look at him and every time you'd rip yourself away he'd grab you harder, forced his hips up to meet yours half way and watch the way you trembled, feel your pussy quiver and clench around his cock.
Sex like this could make Miguel fall in love, make him toss caution to the wind, make him the most selfish bastard in the world and claim the rest of your life for himself. He held you close, tried in every way he could to let you know that he cared deeply for you and that's exactly why the two of you couldn't be together. He cared too much for you, far beyond a friend of the family should. What was he supposed to do? Betray your father's trust? Date someone closer in age to his kid than himself?
But he fell in love with the way your body moved, the way it rolled against his like you were dancing just for him. Your hands were on his neck, then in his hair, tugging sharply at the root so his head craned back. He fell in love with the way you grabbed his jaw and forced him to open his mouth so you could spit in it and slap him again. He fell in love with the way your pussy clung on to him so tight, your creamy wetness slicking your thighs and coating his length. God, you drove him absolutely insane.
He murmured your name, pussy-whipped and dazed with something starting to look like a lot more than lust. "Dios, me estás volviendo loco, mi corazón. Creo que estoy enamorado de ti. ¿Tú lo sabes?" Miguel didn't even know what he was saying anymore, it came out of him like word vomit. He just wanted you. He wanted you so fucking bad.
"Shut up. Stop talking." You don't want to hear his voice, the way he whispered is serenading words in Spanish because you knew if he said anymore you might fall in love with him too. You ride harder, stifling your own moans as you feel him press against such deep, intimate parts of yourself. You can see yourself in the mirror over Miguel's head. Your hair in disarray, a thin layer of glistening sweat coating your skin, and your eyes so hard and cold, teary even.
"Just let me touch you, muñeca. Please." He's whiny, stupid, and pathetic just for you because the way you're creaming on his dick is starting to make him feel like the idea of having a second child was such an insane one. Miguel spat in his hand, used it to play with your swollen clit. He ran circles around your rosebud the same way he ran circles around your mind. Messy and fast in an attempt to get you to cum for him.
Your orgasm threatens to tear you apart, to shred your world to pieces then glue them back together haphazardly. It rocks you and your whole body. You ride harder than before, the harsh slapping of your skin meating his, desperate to reach that high knowing it would lead to you crashing to a whole new low.
“I hate you, Miguel.” You tell him, your breathing halting and your voice cracking. “I hate you for everything you did to me. I hate you for how you used me.” You kissed him hard and breathlessly, pressing your body against him as your orgasm rippled through your body. "I hate you for how you ruined me. You ruined me, Miguel."
Ruined was such a strong word but you got home and you cried, you screamed, you wept. It felt like being ruined. It was so humiliating.
You hated him right now because if you didn't you knew you would love him.
"Y/N-" You didn't let him finish, refused to let him finish in all ways possible because the moment your climax came to its shivering end, you got up and you got off of him. He was so close too and you just up and left him high and dry, you were already snatching up your dress from the floor to put back on.
"Get yourself together, you look ridiculous." You tell him, fiddling with your broken off zipper to try to get it back up your back. Miguel pushed the few strands of hair he had sticking to his forehead. "What the fuck are you on? Where are you going?"
"Back to my boyfriend, where else?"
Miguel was starting to get whiplash. He got off of the counter and tucked himself away just enough to make himself decent. "Y/N please, let's talk about this. You and I both know you don't want him." That much was true but you'd never admit it to him. You're not going to let him embarrass you like that ever again.
You snap at him. "And what? I'm supposed to want you?" You think you should throw your shoe at his head, strangle him, kiss him as well. "I'm doing just what you wanted, Miguel. I'm finding someone my own age, someone my dad approves of. You made your choice so fucking stick with it."
"But I-" but you were already gone with the swinging of the bathroom door as your only marker that you were ever there.
"-love you."
Fuck.
tags: @ihateuguys @valentinewritten
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alienguts · 2 months
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Bruce + Bookworm S/O (Bruce Wayne x GN!Reader HCs)
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Warnings: none
A/N: just a little something i thought of while at work. Part 4 of Picking Up the Pieces is still in the works!
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Despite being someone who has No Spare Time™, Bruce is very well read.
He was reading the classics by the time he was ten years old, so he's got the reading skills and the literary chops, he just doesn't have a lot of time.
While his favourite titles are by authors like Charles Dickens or Sun Tzu, he doesn't know a lot about modern authors.
Sure, he knows who Stephen King is, but he doesn't know Stephen King.
He's been asked at charity events for schools and libraries what he thinks of recent releases, and while he tries to have at least a vague idea of what's the hottest thing, he usually has a default answer.
Depending on what mood he's in, he either refers back to the classics, or plays on the 'dumb playboy' persona and says that he hasn't read a book since high school.
When he found out that you were a huge bookworm, he tried to become more knowledgeable about modern literature.
You likely met in a bookstore that he took Damian to and struck up a conversation with you over a book that you were reading the back of.
You'd noticed him numerous times while browsing and often overheard the store's staff talking about Bruce Wayne and his pushy son, but you never thought that he would ever talk to you.
Your first date was, of course, in the bookstore's café and he treated you to whatever you wanted, including books.
You didn't want to push your chances with him, but he was happy to get you that special cloth bound edition that you thought you wouldn't be able to afford.
The study is your favourite room in the entire Manor, and he learnt that quickly.
You get to have a Beauty and the Beast library in real life, things don't get better than that!
Most of the books there are old editions or academic journals that have been accumulated in the 100+ years people have lived in the Manor.
Eventually, some colour will be incorporated into the shelves and there will be an eclectic mix of covers in amongst all the brown spines.
There are times when Bruce has come home very late from a gala or from patrol and found you still awake, reading in bed.
"Sweetheart, I think you should get some sleep now." "Just let me finish this chapter first."
God help him if he ever tries to take a book out of your hands.
He's fought gods, monsters, serial killers, and weird giant crocodile men but he wouldn't even think about taking a book from you while you're reading.
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umadosedepascal · 3 months
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O N L Y
P E D R O P A S C A L
Who are Santa Trindade
Three gals good in mischief, delusional professionals devoted to Pedro, literally down to his knees.
Gringa is on her late 30’s totally addicted to Pascal for the latest months (she doesn’t know what happened/what’s happening to her lol) although she’s following his work since 2019 because she is a Star Wars nerd and fell in love with a mandalorian 🤷🏻‍♀️. Her favorite Pedro character is Javi Gutierrez because he is chubby and funny (Pedro vibes almost 100%).
What makes her wet is when Pedro: slide his finger on his lips while giggling.
Good vibes: if she had a date with Pedro she thinks she wouldn’t be able to walk the next day 🥲
——
@missyorkswhore is on her late 20’s and noticed Pedro when her uncle was watching Narcos, she saw Javier and asked him “wow, who’s that stach guy?”. A couple years later she finally got into Narcos and you know…she still want to marry Peña.
She loves when Pedro raises his eyebrow, and when he speaks Spanish [she thinks she can get wet in a fraction of seconds if he speaks like that to her in bed] ah and of course when he screams WHAT TOWN!!! as Joel.
Fave character obviously: DAVE FUCKING YORK (killer king)
——
M.A - she still figuring out what she wants on her profile. 🤷🏻‍♀️
🔥-new stuff
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🔥W I N N E R(PART VIII) - You couldn’t attend SAG awards but Pedro meets you late in the night to celebrate.
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O U C H (PART VII) - You are at the Golden Globes and meet Pedro over there, he didn’t win unfortunately but still, he is a winner in bed.
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B O A T (PART VI) - Today is your last day in Malta. Pedro will be back to work, and you also need to return to your routine. Pedro wants your last day to be wonderful, nothing like a surprise with a perfect end. The three most intense days of your life.
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COME FIND ME (PART V) - Pedro promised you a weekend, but an unforeseen event changes everything. Maybe he's a fan of surprises, maybe he can find you.
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72 HOURS WITH HIM (PART IV) - The shooting in Malta keeps going, all Pedro needs is a weekend off, well…he got it. Would you go meet him for only three days? Hmmm yes!
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PEDRO SOLO (PART III) - The days are long and exhausting, Pedro has a huge hotel room, hot tub ... But he is missing something, could you help him?
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LOSING GAME (PART II) - You meet Pedro again not just to take back your panties. He wants to play a game, who’s going to lose?
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HIGH MILES CLUB (PART I) - After partying hard at Met Gala making out with you in the bathroom and later taking you to his hotel room in NY, he finds something inside his red overcoat pocket in the middle of the airport. But it doesn’t stop, more unexpected and hot things happens during his flight back home.
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MASTERCHEF FAIL ONE SHOT - With a busy schedule, Pedro finds some time to spend with you. You promised him to cook his favorite food. Maybe things get out of hand and dessert comes before dinner.
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PURPLE IS THE HOTTEST COLOR ONE SHOT - After having a difficult day, Pedro meets you, no patience, no time for conversations.Pedro only has one desire in mind: you here and now, no matter if anyone will see you.
————————————————
PEDRO I M A G I N E
It’s 3 in the morning…
🔥Hey, I’m looking at you…
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It's time to fix Canada's anti-Palestinian tax code
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HEADS OF B’NAI BRITH CANADA, STAND WITH US CANADA, AND ALLIED VOICES FOR ISRAEL, AT THE ANNUAL CHANUKAH GATHERING OF ISRAEL IN TORONTO, DECEMBER 2023. (PHOTO: B’NAI BRITH CANADA FACEBOOK PAGE)
At the start of the month, Sylvan Adams gave $100 million to Ben-Gurion University. During a Toronto gala for the university’s Canadian fundraising branch, the Canadian billionaire announced the money for “rebuilding and strengthening the south … in the wake of the Oct. 7th attack against Israel’s southern border communities.” Over the past ten weeks, United Israel Appeal Canada has raised $100 million. After a recent Jewish National Fund of Canada fundraiser, the registered charity’s executive Director, Jeff Springer, said, “We raised money for the war during this event.”
Throughout its history, flare-ups in Israeli violence have prompted an outpouring of financial assistance from Canadian Zionists. A significant share of that money has been underwritten by the public.
The Canadian tax code has long been used to subsidize projects in Israel, and pro-apartheid groups have received large amounts in public grants. While little discussed, the “Zionifaction” of charitable status is Canada’s most significant contribution to Palestinian dispossession.
Canadians provide a massive, unique, subsidy to Israel. Hundreds of millions of dollars in public money are annually funneled to a country that has long committed the crime of apartheid, and tens of millions of dollars more go to groups promoting anti-Palestinian policies within Canada. [...]
Continue Reading.
Tagging: @politicsofcanada
The links in the photo description were not included in the article. They were added by the poster to provide further context for the reader.
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why4anne · 4 months
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Daylight
Part: 6/?
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader
Category: Social Media au
Summary: Follow the love story of a global pop icon and a monegasque F1 driver
Face claim: Taylor Swift (Singing) + others
Masterlist
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2022
yourusername
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liked by gigihadid, nicorosberg and 11 372 931 others
yourusername:
You’re Loosing Me: Out on all platforms at 6PM tonight!
There has been a lot of sleepless nights lately. During one of which I sat down with a glass of wine and wrote this heartfelt song. This is one of the most vulnerable songs I’ve ever written but I’m very proud of it. I hope you guys like it as much as I do.
view comments:
ynfansunite: MISS MAAM IT’S A RANDOM TUESDAY??!!
haveyntickets: I was having a calm morning until you posted this😭
uno_dos_yn: How am I supposed to live through the day knowing this will be dropping tonight???!!!!
ginaschumifan: So… are we going to adress the elephant in the room?
- frenchf1fan: The song? The caption? Nico f*cking Rosberg liking this? You gotta be more specific girl.
- holy_verstappen: NICO ROSBERG LIKED THIS???!!!! Helloooo??? Sir??!!
doverussell: I love how all of the F1 drivers are ignoring her and Nico Rosberg is out here liking her posts💀
- formula_frankie: istg he’s so unserious😭
- slaybastianvettel: He lives for chaos
howtomoveyn: It’s about Charles, I know it!!
- ynxcharlesship: Girl- we all know it😭
- charlesgirlie: I can’t handle it🪦
threeyn: 💀🪦☠️😵: Visual representation of me rn
fromtheyntable: I know it’s bad but if the breakup with Charles gives us more heartbreaking, tear inducing, banging my head against the wall type of songs I’m here for it!
- howtobeyn: She’s still a person, have some respect!
charles_leclerc
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liked by pierregasly, arthur_leclerc and 3 182 732 others
charles_leclerc:
ABU22 out at 5PM tonight!
I’ve recently started picking up the piano and had a burst of inspiration after the Abu Dhabi GP and composed this piece. I hope you enjoy it.
View comments:
icemanfan: He’s not even trying to be subtle😭
formula_frankie: ON THE SAME DAY???
unocharlss: SIR?? Is this a good timing??
- goodleclerc: RIGHT!!??
allaboutleclerc: anyways…the weather😃
thinkingyn: I can’t tell if he’s heartbroken or shady
- ghost_leclerc: probably both💀
hateyn: Serves her right after all the songs she’s written about her exes!😤
- charlesfans4ever: gtfo of here
- goldenyn: How does it feel to be unwanted and lonely?
-ynandsharl: Y/N fans 🤝 Charles fans: not tolerating hate!
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celebritynews
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Liked by 219 377 people
celebritynews:
The 2022 athletes gala have announced that the musical guest for this years gala in early March will be singer Y/N L/N. This would not be anything noteworthy unless for the fact that her ex, Charles Leclerc is confirmed to be in attendance.
What do you think will happen on this eventful evening? We’re certainly eager to find out!
View comments:
formulayn:what. the. fuck.😭
leclercthigs: So we’re going to see mom and dad in the same room for the first time since the split?😃
greatnessln: She will 100% be performing the pettiest songs in existence💀
- ynchildrenshome: I bet she’ll perform you’re loosing me!😖
superyn: Guys! Please do a wellness check on all of your friends who are Y/N and/or Charles fans. We’re very fragile rn😭💀
Tag-list: @mindflay3r @karmabyfernando @lightdragonrayne @ilove-tswizzle @sadg3
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scrrra · 8 months
Text
𓆩 ♡ 𓆪 COULD THIS BE LOVE ?
things done and said in while falling in love with you
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PAIRING ★ ot9 zb1 x gn! reader , GENRE ★ fluff , WARNINGS ★ mention of injury , WORD COUNT ★ 612
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★ 김지웅 is the type to smile easily because of you. Whether it's hearing your voice or someone mentioning your name, he can't stop the corners of his mouth turning upwards. It's embarrassingly cute the way his face lights up when you're mentioned, or how the sound of your voice can make his day ten times better than it was. He thinks if you as his happy pill, calling you when he's down or just misses you.
✳︎ rest are below the cut!
★ 장하오 is the type to praise you more than himself. Anything you do, whether small or big, he's going to tell you how good you are at it. You could have played an out of tune attempt on his violin and Hao will be telling all his friends that you could be the best violinist ever. His friends are probably sick of how he praises you so much, to the point where he'll say you're better than him at everything too.
★ 성한빈 is the type to always look for you. With the softest look on his face, you're the first one he searches for in a crowd. It's a small thing, but doesn't go unnoticed. From the way he'll put conversations on hold to do a quick scan around the area, he just wants to look for you. Hanbin cares a lot, and he's the type to keep a motherly eye on things, but in your case, he just feels more comfortable with you there.
★ 석매튜 is the type to laugh at everything you say because to him you're the funniest person in the world. He'll be giggling at your lame joke because when you laugh with him, his heart flutters. He gives the perfect reaction to everything you say. A stupid joke? He's laughing like crazy. Point something cool out? He's looking like it's the most amazing and spectacular thing in the world!
★ 김태래 is the type to learn all your favourite songs on guitar, just so he can serenade you when you wish. He will sit for hours in his room with his guitar, listening to your song of the week on repeat just so he can play it next time you meet and he can see your bright smile. It makes Taerae smile too, dimples and all. He doesn't do this to this extent for anyone, but if you sent him a playlist of a 100 songs he'd learn them all.
★ 리키 is the type to take you as a plus one to everything. Any event that's about to happen, you're the first person he thinks of to bring along. He takes you everywhere with him. Going out for dinner? I wonder what Y/N is up to. A gala event? I should get Y/N a new outfit. Ricky does it without realising it, you're his permanent partner even platonically.
★ 김규빈 is the type to bring you up at any given moment because everything reminds him of you. Someone could mention ice cream, and he'd bring up the flavour you like You like a certain show? Any time it's on (not in your presence) he's talking about how it's your favourite and you made him watch it once. Even video games start reminding him of you, talking about your Valorant main while on voice chat as everyone moves to mute him.
★ 박건욱 is the type to make sure you don't hurt yourself. He makes sure you don't bump into corners or slip on something on the floor by sort of baby proofing. He cleans up when you're visiting, keeps his hand on edges while you walk, always just a centimeter away from making sure you're safe. Gunwook also does little things like walking on the busy side of the sidewalk so you aren't exposed to any sort of danger.
★ 한유진 is the type to let you do whatever you want to him. This is said in the sense that he lets you use his phone, do his makeup, style his hair, you can name it. He'll let you poke his cheeks with no complaint. Dress him up like a doll if you want, he's at your total beck and call. Yujin doesn't let anyone else do this, at least not without whines paired alongside.
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thank you for reading ★ reblogs appreciated !
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blackswaneuroparedux · 10 months
Video
Les aspirations les plus absurdes et les plus téméraires ont parfois conduit à des succès extraordinaires.
- Vauvenargues
St. Moritz has been a famous health resort in Engadine since the 19th century. At first, it was only frequented by spa guests, before the village developed into a high alpine sports centre, and for a time it was a playground for the rich and famous. There’s still some of that element present but not as in its hey day of the 70s. For nine months of the year it’s just another picturesque village in the gorgeous Swiss Alps, with Lake St. Moritz lying at its heart.
Crucially it is quietly forgotten by the outside world. Residents can breathe and go about their daily chilled out lives. For those precious nine months it was great to hike and ski there as my boarding school wasn’t too far away from getting there. But the other four months of the year, the high season, it gets flood with skiers and altogether more showy crowd.
The frozen surface of the lake, which can only be described as a desert of snow, now serves as a symbol of the resort itself. From nine months of natural bliss to four months of chaos and madness. Every time the ice lends its surface to polo tournaments, horse races, and the wealthy and beautiful make the pilgrimage down the mountains from their grand hotels, St. Moritz seems to transform. St. Moritz’s newest ‘gimmick’ for the past three years or so has been to serve the International Concours of Elegance St. Moritz - or The ICE St. Moritz - as a kind of classic car museum with an adventurous character.
Since the first ever The ICE St. Moritz in 2019, historic rally cars have been exhibited to the sports car-crazy public on the opening day, before demonstrating their horsepower on the ice racetrack on the second day of the event. However, the fact that The ICE is taking place on Lake St. Moritz, of all places, is no coincidence. In 1985, a group of Scottish and British sportsmen drove their vintage Bentleys to St. Moritz to celebrate the centenary of the Cresta Run (an eccentric and high spirited toboggan amateur race). As part of the festivities, they drove their cars on the racecourse across the frozen Lake St. Moritz.
This year, however, the ICE St. Moritz evolved slightly differently. For the first time, the event was held on two days: Friday 24 and Saturday 25 February. On the first day, the lake was transformed into an open-air museum, where the jury evaluated the cars on display from an aesthetic perspective. Then, on the second day, the actual race took place, whereupon the jury evaluated the classic cars from a performance perspective.
This year there were five category winners. In the ‘Open Wheels’ category, the 1958 Maserati 420M/58 “Eldorado” held its own. Meanwhile, the ‘Barchettas on the Lake’ category crowned the Ferrari 500 Mondial Series II from 1955 as the winner. My personal favourite, the aforementioned Ferrari 250 Testarossa ‘Lucybelle’ emerged as the winner in the ‘Le Mans 100’ category. As expected, Lancia Strato’s HF Zero of 1970 came out on top in the ‘Concept Cars & One Offs’ category. Last but not least, judges crowned the 1958 Bentley S1 Continental Drophead Coupé as the winner of the ‘Queens on Wheels’ category.
The evening gala took place at Badrutts Palace, which towers over the city like a castle with its high stone walls. In the stimulating semi-darkness and under shimmering candlelight, riders, collectors, enthusiasts, the public and media from all over the world celebrated the conclusion of one of the most anticipated competitions in the Engadine. Overall it’s spectacular fun and contrary to what one might believe it really does draw the car enthusiast crowd rather than the snob mob. It’s a very chilled event and bags of fun.
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Note
Are we thinking MM will be Misan’s plus one for the Oscars? She has been love bombing him for ages now and surely his poor quality photos of her are not all she is after.
If he takes her instead of his wife, it would be a new level of low.
So I've been thinking about this, and I don't think Meghan actually wants to go to the Oscars, the Grammys, the Golden Globes, etc.
I think she loves being associated with that A-List crowd and she loves the idea of us (her adoring public *and* her critical public) thinking she's that popular, influential, famous, wealthy, connected to be "in" with that crowd. But I think she's actually terrified to be physically there with that crowd.
If you look at every public 'engagement' Meghan does, there's always a couple of things in common:
She controls every single thing - how she looks, who she speaks to, who approaches her, what they say to her, how she's photographed, where she's photographed, who's with her, who's next to her, who's taking her picture, so on.
She's the main attraction, the big kahuna - everyone is there to see her, they want to listen to her, they want to shake her hand, they want to hug her, they want to write only about her.
Neither of these are possible when she's in an auditorium full of much more famous, much wealthier, much more connected, much more desirable celebrities than her. She wants to sit front and center like William and Kate do at the BAFTAs but that's not possible; front and center at the Oscars is reserved for the people that the rest of us tune in to watch - the Meryl Streeps, the Colman Domingos, the Lily Gladstones, the Cilian Murphys. If being in the overflow room on the 8th row in an enormous ballgown is humiliating, just wait till she's stuck at the back of the auditorium with the film editors, the foreign language nominees, and the plus-ones of everyone not famous enough to sit at the front on camera.
Something else to remember about these kind of events is that they're giant parties for the Hollywood industry. Meaning everyone knows everyone, they're all there for a good time. they're not there to promote anything or talk business -- they're not going to talk to someone they don't know, who doesn't really work in the industry, and who's made headlines for blabbing about other people's private/personal business. In other words, Meghan is going to be the one going up to these people to talk to them. She's going to be the one climbing over the chairs to give hugs and say hello and she's going to be the one catering to other people's egos. That's not what she wants. She wants people to come to her, to be in awe of her, to be flattering her ego.
And because everyone knows everyone at these events, it's probably a very safe assumption that if Meghan and Harry have misbehaved/done things to certain people as alleged, then those people have told their friends/staff, who've told their friends, so a whole bunch of people are on their guard about Meghan being in their space.
(Some of those rumors: Harry taking drugs at Courtney Cox's house party and writing about it in Spare, Christian Bales's family having concerns about what Meghan wheedling Gloria Steinem, Meghan using Oprah for headlines while Oprah was at her dying father's bedside, all the shit that went down with Tyler Perry, whatever went down with David Foster and Kat McPhee, Meghan hitting on Serena's husband, whatever Melissa McCarthy and Tracee Ellis Ross know about 40x40, whatever went down with the fertility doctor/OBGYN who closed up shop right after Lili was born, whatever she did to piss off Edward Enniful, everything that happened with Netflix and Spotify (which Netflix hinted at in last week's article), and Meghan's "fuck off" to Anna Wintour about the Met Gala that got her blacklisted.)
Another thing is the fashion at these events. It is a 100% total merchfest. 9 out of 10 celebs you see on the red carpet (including the men) have partnered with designers and are wearing their clothes/jewelry for free. Who the celebs wear usually correlates to one of three things: their fame/popularity, personal relationships between designer/stylist and celebrity, and the likelihood of the celeb getting on camera. Meghan isn't going to get the elite designers to dress her for these events. She doesn't want to wear Carolina Herrera or Hermes readywear when everyone else is wearing hot-off-the-runway Dior, Versace, Prada, etc. She doesn't want to wear Birks when everyone else is dripping in Harry Winston, Cartier, Tiffany's.
And finally, these events are filmed/streamed live. Meghan doesn't like being recorded when she isn't in control. And these are 3-hour, 4-hour long events. She can't keep her mask on for that long, especially when she's being snubbed and ignored by people she thinks should be falling down at her feet. That's why she always hypes up going to the after-parties instead, and why the only events she actually *does* attend are red carpets for private events - there are no cameras at the actual events so she can more easily keep up the "I'm all that and still unbroken!" facade she so desperately wants us to believe.
I mean, she bailed on the Travolta awards at the last minute for a reason.
And if she can't handle being third fiddle to William and Kate, she absolutely can't handle being third fiddle to an entire auditorium of Williams and Kates.
So she might be lovebombing Misan to be his plus-one to the Oscars. But I don't think she would actually go. She'll probably pull out last minute. If anything, I think she's probably lovebombing for tickets to Netflix's after-party. She may also be trying to get Misan to be her "personal" photographer the way Kate "has" Matt Porteous and Chris Jackson.
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pvnks0ul · 8 months
Text
little one | mama!riri x fem!reader
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pt 1
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Summary: Adventures of Riri & her 'mini me'
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riri is 100% the, "don't tell mommy" parent.
Especially when you're going away on a business trip because occasionally there were events of which you could not attend from behind a computer screen or in the comfort of your home.
You had kissed your girls, goodbye but not before making sure to remind Riri of Naturis tight schedule- one that could not afford missing a step or else the almost 4 year old child would probably spiral out of control.
Riri had your luggage in one hand and her babygirl in the other, supporting the small child on her hips, the little ones head ontop of her shoulder, slight pout tugging on her lips because she knew all too well that you were going away despite the fact that she was promised a tea party- the ones she had every two weeks where she was allowed to stay up and help brew the tea (putting the water in before it boils of course), wear her pretty Sunday dresses and half inch babydoll shoes with the matching pearls her grandma Ronnie had gotten her.
*small flashback*
She was a crying mess earlier that morning when she went looking for you and saw the familiar frantic movements from one side of the room to the other, she was still only whining pulling at your sundress till she caught whift of your neatly folded clothes were packed into an ugly green suitcase- she really hated green- that was when the actual water works started to kick in.
Luckily Riri was right around the corner, sweeping her baby off her feet and into her arms, exiting the room with her before asking "What's wrong with my baby, hmm?" Rubbing her back soothingly until she was no longer hiccuping through her tears.
cooing at Naturi when she mutters something along the lines of, "Mommy's leav'n me, again" she sniffles out with a quivering bottom lip, making her heart break a bit more for the young being- truly her weakness.
Riri nods in understanding before wiping her childs tears away with her thumbs, "I know, I don't like when Mommy goes away either but, I'll tell you what--"
She manages to calm her daughter down one juice pouch later with a pinky promise to do the tea party and let her stay up after dinner to help make anything she wanted in her garage later.
The last bit you had no idea was happening, Of course.
*end of flashback*
Riris kissing you on the cheek then moves down pecking your lips a few more times- her sneaky way of trying to stop your rambles before you can start up again.
"Ma... I know how the stove works."
"I won't forget to have her in bed by 6, baby please."
"You can go, I swear we'll both be in one healthy, well fed & rested piece on Monday. Go enjoy your Gala, baby. I got this." She assures for hopefully the last time, giving you a hug with Naturi still in her tight hold.
"Mkay, just making sure." You say with a huff before turning to your child who still refused to look at you.
"Mommys gonna miss her princess so much." You say while pinching Naturis chubby cheeks between your thumb and index.
She's still reluctant to look at you, turning her head away but she's quickly reminded of her manners when Riri bounces her a little to high for her liking, "Hey, what do we say to mommy, huh?"
Naturis pout deepens before she offers a side hug and a extremely sour, "Love you too, mommy" nuzzling her head right back into her mamas neck.
Riri mouths out a sorry to you for her cranky behavior, before grabbing your chin and gifting you a lingering kiss on the lips, resting her head against yours when she needs to pull away for air and then...she's standing against the cracked open door watching you pull out the driveway.
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4 pm
"D'you like it, turi?" Riri asked with an expectant gaze, watching her daughters eyes light up as she sipped from the ridiculously tiny tea cups, with her pinky held up, proudly.
She nodded her head once she drunk it all, sitting it down on the princess themed coasters.
"s'good!" she exclaimed while rubbing her belly.
"N'so pretty...Did you know I liked pruprel the very most, mama?" she asked while peeking at the purple passionfruit tea swirling in the pitcher.
"Course, I did baby." Riri chuckled, moving uncomfortably in the small table chairs. Let's just pretend that they weren't the only tea bags she found in the pantry.
4:21 pm
Riri should've followed the schedule you set, she was now starting to regret digging through your closet because Naturi has been nothing above bossy & filled with sass since she got ahold of her fancy necklaces and a pair of mommy's white 'princess gloves'.
Riri was secretly trying to eat a chocolate chip cookie she had prepared specifically for the tea party, her stomach was growling as she hadn't eaten anything since way before you left so she didn't see why not.
Bad idea.
Riri crunched down on the sweet snack just as Naturi busted into the room with all her squishmallows in hand, "Mama, no!"
"Huh-" Riris smile quickly faded into a look of confusion as the young girl stomped into the room.
"You can't have food unless the most very important guest is eating too!" She tsked while dropping all of the plushies but one and sitting it next to her.
Where tf did she learn how to tsk?
She picks up a cookie off the tray and places it into one of her smaller dishes, sliding it infront of him, "There you go, Mr. Penguin."
"... Mama, you have to apologize to Mr. Penguin or else he won't eat."
Riri sideyed her daughter and the stuffed animal with a monocle glued on- and where the hell did she get that? She shakes her head, didn't even get to finish biting her cookie before hurriedly chewing and chugging it down with some of the warm tea still in her cup, it was really fucking dry. Naturi gave her a look as she held the cup up, she really didn't appreciate the fact that Riri forgot to hold out her pinky but she didn't voice it neither.
Unless a nasty glare counts, that is.
"Uhm, my fault Mr. Penguin dude...I thought I was the most very important guest." she huffs out, mumbling the latter under her breath.
Naturi claps excitedly, jumping up & down in response, "Thank you mama! You're forgiven!"
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5:15 pm
By five pm, Riri has already cleaned up the play area with the help of her sassy daughter and fixed & served dinner ; chicken Alfredo but with bowtie noodles because she knew Naturi liked how much they favored her real bows. Just something slight that she couldn't possibly burn.
"Alright, baby you full?" Riri asks, using a napkin to wipe away the remainder of the child's food that was on her cheeks instead of the actual plate.
"Mhmm!" Naturi responds, expanding on her words with her hand rubbing over her belly.
Riri takes her phone out for a few seconds as she checks to see if you opened the chain of pictures she snuck of Naturi & her plushies at her tea party. You didn't, so she knew you must've been swamped with work or just busy.
She hums before swiping down & then to the left for her camera, angling it at the young girl who quickly switched to her coloring papers after putting her plate into the sink.
"Wanna take a picture for mommy?" Riri asked before snapping one anyway.
Naturi looks up and makes a sound that Riri thinks means yes before dropping her pink crayon onto the sheet and jumping out her seat, "Can we make it a video instead?" she asks so sweetly with her big brown eyes blinking up at her, Riri didn't dare to decline.
That's how you ended up with another chain of 5 two minute videos of your daughter explaining why you should've stayed here with her because her and mama were having so much fun & they all ended the same way, her blowing a kiss and waving to the camera- you-, except for the last one where her and riri made sure to remind you that they "love and miss you so much" as well as Naturi convincing Riri to blow a kiss aswell.
5:40 pm
As it grows closer to six Riri has already bathed the child and it seemed to help calm her down a bit as she let her mama put her pj's on with no fuss at all.
Riri could tell that Naturi was getting sleepier as she could hardly keep her eyes open while brushing her teeth, so she when Turi finished up she asked, "you still wanna make something with me, baby or sleep first?"
Naturi mumbles something that sound close to "make sum- fing" even though she was yawning and basically talking in her sleep as her mama carried her into her room.
Once Naturi realized she was being tucked into her comforter she jolted up, "Mama I said-!"
"We can do it in the morning, after breakfast if you want mkay? I think you're too tired right now." Riri murmurs before kissing Naturis temples then cheeks, lighting pushing the child's tight coils to the back & out of her face.
For once, Naturi doesn't have it in her to fight back and just hums while settling into the warm sheets and slowly drifting to sleep.
Riri cracks the door which was directly across from the bedroom she shared with you, exiting the room just as her phone goes off.
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triple-mayday · 11 months
Text
There’s hella theories floating around about the reason behind Tucker Carlson’s sudden divorce with Fox News, but there’s one that I love the most.
Its the sexiest, pettiest, most delicious bullshit to ever be conceived. Behold:
We know for a fact that Tucker got bitch slapped across New York City by Rupert Murdoch himself. Not only that, but baby boy was laid off sometime on Friday and notified only on Monday, when he came to work. So, this unforeseen development was like a kick in the balls. For the uninitiated, Rupert Murdoch is the name of the demonic entity responsible for the creation of Fox News.
Tuckerson and Rupert had a special relationship. According to Tucker himself, the now ex-host was “100% [Rupert’s] bitch” (we love a proud sugar baby). Tucker was basically a glorified court jester - he cosplayed for daddy Rupert as a pro-worker, anti-elitist, anti-establishment, Christian, relatable everyman that broke republicans could relate to. That was, of course, a load of horseshit. As said by Tucker himself.
You see, back in Mesozoic Era (circa 2008-2011), our boy was an active participant in shock radio programs where he paraded himself as an open and proud elitist and a self-admitted trust fund baby.
All of this deliciousness speaks for itself. Tucker Carlson is a chameleon that changes his face depending on what’s resonating best with his conservative audience. Which brings us to the nearly orgasmic culmination of events that could have possibly led to Tucker’s current unemployment.
Tuck roleplayed as a hardcore Christian for quite some time. On that fateful Friday night, he turned it up to 100 for his speech at the conservative think tank Heritage Foundation’s 50th anniversary gala. Bubba was popping off, calling abortions “child sacrifices” and demanding daily prayers. The audience loved it. Rupert? Not so much.
The thing is, for Rupert business comes before fascism. Grandpa worships money, Jesus is merely a profitable business strategy. For a businessman, the rabid fundie shit was already incredibly off-putting. And Tucker’s villain monologue just happened to be the last drop in the bucket that was already filled to the brim by Murdoch’s ex. That’s right. The chair of Fox News broke off his recent engagement because his fiancée was a Jesus freak.
Now onto the good shit. Rupert’s ex had a favorite show. Guess what that show was?
Tucker Carlson Tonight
The woman in question even had tête-à-tête chit chats with her favorite TV personality, thanks to her connection to Fox News CEO.
Tensions were rising in the Murdoch household. The ex-fiancée’s obsession with Tucker only added fuel to the fire. The woman went as far as declaring that Carlson was a messenger from God. One day, Tucker had a dinner at his boss’ estate. In the middle of dinner the Jesus lady pulled out a Bible and began discussing the book of Exodus with Carlson.
Rupert just sat there like 👁️👄👁️
In the end, the man was too freaked out by Christian fundamentalism and kicked Tucker out after his particularly awful speech. It was also a cute little fuck you to his ex cause now her favorite show got canceled
This is just one theory, but it’s my favorite, so I prefer it above all else, and now you get to experience this beauty with me
God, I adore American politics
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angelkhi · 8 months
Text
mirrorball - j.m
pairing: bodyguard!joel miller x f!reader (3rd person)
summary: a gala isn’t your thing, dress shopping isn’t Joel’s. It’s a shame no one can get their way.
warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), smut in future parts, mentions of alcohol, references to being roofied, language, sexual themes (no actual sex), mentions of blood, joel is a massive dick. let me know if i missed anything!word count: 2.8k
a little note: it’s here! (kinda). ive been kinda busy (i graduated!) but also wanted to take my time with this, and maybe explore some aspects of writing that i usually skim over (my bad). i estimate that this will be maybe 3 parts? i hope i do it justice either way, this fic was born out of this hc, but mostly your encouraging responses. thank you for being so kind 🩷
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series masterlist part two>>
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For a price tag of almost three grand, her dress is itchy. Sure it's beautiful enough that the slimy little daddy's boys will fawn over her, and each superficial gold digger will give her one syllable compliments in an overly saturated tone, but it fucking itches. She hikes the material further up her thigh for the third time since the short car ride began, trying to scratch at her skin. Maybe it's an allergic reaction. She hopes so, that way she can avoid the event all together. She's half way to pulling her sleeve away from her shoulder, ready to scratch the irritated skin, but a firm grip around her wrist prevents her from that sweet sweet relief.
"Stop fidgeting." Joel's tone is clipped, the usual hint of strain pulling across his words. She swears she's never seen him relax, not since he became her live-in bodyguard anyway. She cuts her eye at him but of course he's not looking. The only time she ever really has his attention is if her life is in danger, other than that its pure nonchalance and ignorant glances. She can admire his desire to fulfil the position, what with the pay and free accommodation, hell if she had a real job she'd probably be just as uptight as him. But there's only so much a person can take.
"It's itchy." Of course she sounds like a whiny little brat. It's fine, that's all he thinks of her anyway, she's sure of it.
"Should've picked the other one then."
She almost laughs.
She had walked him around the store at least four times, each trip resulting in the same two dresses. She couldn't decide between the colours, then the length, and then the sleeves. In the end he forced her into the changing room, mumbling she either picks one of those or goes in nothing. They both know that's not an option. Both dresses felt nice, as nice as a constricting piece of fabric could feel, they both looked as nice as they could in the dreary washed out lighting. In the end she had asked Joel, who sat just the other side of the door, arms folded, shoulders tense, scowl mastered.
Joel isn't one for verbal communication, unless it's telling her to 'go here' or 'stay there' or his most frequented phrase, 'shut up'.
But his eyes say it all.
Sometimes it's a simple twitch, letting her know he's not as irritated as he lets on, others it's a slight squint. That's her personal favourite. That's when she knows she's got him right on the edge.
His eyes fix on her, moving slow and calculated over the second dress. The way the fabric moulds to each divot and curve of her body, lingering on her chest, on the slightly too high slit exposing her thigh. It's a clear winner.
His levels of exasperation had clearly spiked in the time it took for her to change again, his constant glaring, huffing and puffing dialled up to 100. His wide steps only seem to grow wider on the way to the checkout, his whole demeanour screaming get me the fuck out of here. Which is why she doubles back on herself, not needing to check if he's following, she knows he will.
She stops, a wide array of underwear in front of her. She takes her time, making sure to show each and every barely there pair to him, watching that eye twitch with a perfect mix of irritation and lightly tethered resolve.
He'd dragged her out of there in the end, though not after she held up the skimpiest pair of panties she could find. His hand wraps tight around her arm, not enough to hurt her, she knows he'd never do that. But enough to tell her she's officially pushed his buttons a little too much.
Soon enough the car rolls to a slow stop in front of a grand building. Stone columns tower over her when Joel leads her from the car. She likes to pretend it's not in his job description, that instead he's simply just an emotionally constipated gentleman, but she's not stupid enough to believe it. Still, when his hand finds the small of her back, when he guides her up the steps and into the vast museum-turned-ballroom, it's hard to believe that his behaviour is entirely obligatory.
The event is just as grand as she expected. Her father certainly has no trouble with throwing his wealth around, even less so when it presents the opportunity to show just how wealthy he is. An ornate chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting a warm twinkling light over the guests. An sizeable portion of an orchestra plays dreary classical music from the back of the room, and the guests are filling the space, drinking overpriced champagne and nibbling on bite sized canapés.
She waltzes through the sea of false affluence, painting on her best smile, choosing her most pleasant tone, saying all of the right words. She embraces her father heartily, pushing down the small piece of resistance when he pulls her close. She puts on a good, exhausting show. The only thing that keeps her grounded is Joel, hot on her 5-inch heels, anticipating her every move, being ten steps ahead of her.
She's seated with a handful of the elite from the gathering, laughing when they relay the same stories as always, gasping and feigning surprise when they compliment her. She eats the bland food with a sweet smile and laughs off propositions from parents who just know their son would be a perfect match for her.
In between convoluted speeches, she listens to them drone on about their latest investments, or how well their darling daughters are performing in their ballet classes. She smiles, she drinks. she laughs. She's the perfect daughter. The luckiest girl in the room, with the richest daddy and all the luxuries life could offer. But sat at that table, choking down specs of gold in the dry champagne, she feels more akin to the age old scrolls and scriptures.
A caged artefact, another one of her father's prized possessions, on display to be gasped at. She'd give anything for the glass to shatter, for tiny shards to rain down on each and every person in here. She'd marvel in their horror as they learn they bleed the same as everyone else on this planet. That they're not special, and neither is she.
From the corner of her eye, she spots Joel hiding in the shadows, standing to attention. His eyes constantly scan the room and every few seconds, they're on her. She almost feels bad for practically ogling him whilst he's doing his very best to keep her alive. But his black suit fits his form so well it'd be a sin not to look. She watches as he readjusts his cufflinks for the third time, the material catching around his biceps, the single button clipped across his stomach almost straining with every moment.
Yes, Joel is an insufferable bastard, but he's an unfathomably good looking one. His stoic behaviour is almost forgiven on that basis alone.
A round of applause pulls her from her Joel induced trance. She fixes her smile and joins in, nodding jovially with those around her. Not soon enough, she's free to leave the table, thanking them for their company, and heads straight for the bar. She feels Joel's presence before she sees him, perching a few seats down, eyes still wondering.
She doesn't pay much attention to the man next to her. His suit probably cost more than what most people make in a year, and his charming smile is more snake-like. She smiles when he pays for her drink, laughs and touches his arm, letting him think he has a chance. He's been talking about his most recent investment in overseas stocks for ten minutes, and all she wants is to go home and take off these fucking uncomfortable heels. To be able to breathe without the rigid dress digging into her skin. She wants to be alone, or as alone she can be with her human shadow.
"... and profits are at an all time high. My old man reckons I'll be taking over from him soon enough" The man, Matt? Mike? Manny, speaks. She flashes him a smile.
"Wow. That's amazing." Or at least she hopes it is, he could be talking about his dead childhood pet for all she knows.
"Let me buy you another drink?" He asks. Though it's more of a demand, he's already flagged down the bartender, ordering something sweet and fruity her, and a "real man's" drink for himself.
"You got the last round. I'll get these." She pretends to root around in her too-small purse knowing he'll decline, they always do. Men like him take any chance to throw their money around, wave it in peoples faces, impress the men and woo the ladies.
By the time she's ended the facade, he's waving his amex at her dismissively, nudging the drink towards her. Once again she smiles. She doesn't even want the drink, certainly not in his company.
His beady eyes watch her, a hint of something beneath the thick layer of painted on charm. That snake-like nature increases tenfold and it takes everything in her not to tip the drink down the front of his Givenchy shirt. The glass is barely in her hands when it's ripped from her hands, the familiar scent of Joel invading her space.
His face is taught, that scowl he loves so dearly gone, in its place pure rage. His eyes are dangerously dark, and she's sure if she looked hard enough, there would be smoke blowing from his ears.
It all happens so quickly. The sloshing drink flies from the glass straight into Manny's face, dripping down onto his clothes, turning his sickly white suit into a damp shade of pink. Then Joel is moving, slamming the empty glass onto the bar and gripping the terrified man by his collar.
She can feel the eyes of almost everyone at the gala trained solely on them, she almost expects the music to come to a screeching halt.
She can barely make out Joel's enraged words, despite the silent crowd. She's barely aware of his hand gripping her arm, pulling her through the parting guests. A sea of shocked faces, some sympathetic others purely confused. She stumbles on the top step, her stupid heels and Joel's insane pace working against her. The world turns upside down, and her hands reach out to brace herself, hitting his sturdy back. Even with a layer of clothing between them, she swears she can feel his bare hands across the back of her thighs, the tight muscle of his shoulder pressing against her stomach.
He's thrown her over his shoulder. Like a damned child. And now he's shoving her into the back of the car, as though she's the one that threw a tantrum and caused a scene. He rounds the car and slips in beside her, and they're speeding off back towards her apartment.
The last few minutes slowly slip from a hazy blur to a sharp reality, and she can't help but stare at him. Confusion and pure embarrassment hit her first, then comes the anger. He speaks to the driver for a second, and then the partition is rolling up again.
The car feels ten times smaller and itching of her dress is long forgotten. She wants to ask him what happened, why he dragged her out of there like an insubordinate child, but he's busy typing on his phone, making hushed calls as though a whisper wouldn't travel the few feet of space between them. His chest heaves, small tufts of hair peaking through the now open buttons of his shirt, the once neat tie hanging loosely from his collar.
He barely looks at her the whole time. Even as he helps her out of the car, or guides her into the elevator, or pushes open her front door, bolting it behind them. She throws off the heels the moment she steps into the large living room, knocking an ornament sideways. Not even that gets his attention.
"Sunshine secured." He speaks into his wrist, a small undetectable microphone hidden in one of the cufflinks. Sunshine. She remembers it like yesterday, the first time he'd called her that. She'd stumbled into the kitchen after a late night, barely acknowledging the hulking man sat at the island. She remembers the exact moment his eyes met hers with that all consuming gaze and the slight quirk of his lips as he studied her from head to toe, then in that deep texas drawl, uttered morning sunshine.
She had quickly come to learn it was not as endearing as it seemed. Joel doesn't do endearing.
There's a growing urge to throw something, at a wall or at him is still undecided, so she crosses her arms across her chest instead. She calls out his name, though it falls on deaf ears, his nose buried in that stupid phone of his. She tries again, and again until throwing something doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore. Finally, he grants her the privilege of his attention and she considers for a moment, if that's all she wanted. Not answers, just his acknowledgement. He raises an eyebrow, his nonchalance pushing her over the edge.
"What was that?" It comes out as a high pitched shout, rather than the calm and controlled manner she had hoped.
Once again, he quirks his brow saying nothing any everything . This doesn't concern you, or are you really that stupid?
"Joel, you just threw a drink on someone and dragged me out of a room filled with hundreds of people. You would think that warrants an explanation!"
He has the nerve to huff and shake his head, shoving the buzzing phone in his pocket and takes a step towards her.
"You want an explanation." He eyes her again, focusing on the slow curve of her dress. "There was a threat. I eliminated it."
She scoffs, "You were being a dick."
"I was doing my job."
"Oh that's what it was! Your little tantrum was you doing your job?" She's aware that she's now the one throwing a tantrum, not that she cares when he's acting so high and mighty, as though the status of his role outweighs her own peace of mind.
"Go to bed." His phone buzzes again, he ignores it. "It's been a long night and I have a bunch of shit to deal with."
"Are you being serious right now? You just humiliated me in front of everyone. Was carrying me down the steps really that necessary?" If she was itching to throw something a few minutes ago, she's desperate now. Maybe her shoe, right in his face.
"He would've done a lot worse Sunshine, now go to bed." For fucks sakes.
"No! Not until you tell me what is going on."
He sighs, pinching the small bump along the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a moment. He does this a lot, when he's trying not to yell at her or even better still, quit his job. He shoots her a pointed look.
"If you weren't so busy flirting with your little boyfriend, you would've noticed him slipping something in your drink." His words are met with a long silence, and the space between them seems to stret even further.
The dress feels tighter, and she wobbles a little, though this time she can't blame it on the shoes. She was wrong. He hasn't humiliated her in front of everyone, he'd done it in her own home.
"Unzip me." Her voice is clipped. She's not sure if she wants to scream or cry. Maybe both. He hesitates for a moment, but then he's there right behind her pulling the zip down so torturously slowly, the soft brush of his knuckles on her skin threatening her with a shiver. She almost hates herself for it.
He steps back, but she doesn't face him. The dress slides off easily, leaving her in barely anything not that she cares. She's already humiliated herself enough, what's another notch in the belt? She gathers up the crumpled fabric, wanting nothing more than to throw it in the bin, and walks down the hall pausing at her door. She turns to him. She refuses to let him have the last word, he doesn't deserve it, not tonight. With tears already threatening her voice and Joel's beyond sour mood she's not sure she cares much either. Making sure to look directly into his eyes, she bares herself, lets him see the hurt he has caused.
"Fuck you."
She makes sure the door slams behind her, leaving him alone in the dark.
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kindtim3 · 3 months
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— actress!abby x popstar!reader hc’s
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౨ৎ warnings - implied smut on first hc , gn!reader , if there’s anything else plsss lmk !
౨ৎ a/n - omg hi sorry ive not posted in sooo long ! i’ve been busy with holidays, work, & preparing to go back to uni in a bit , but i hope u enjoy these hc’s <3
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- first to see you in red carpet event outfits.
“Gotta tell the driver to close the partition, baby,” Abby flicked her wrist to check the time on her watch, “promise I’ll put it back on correctly.”
- brings you on set; every single one of Abby’s coworkers has NOTHING but nice things to say about you.
- Abby’s a big partner gal (my vers. of wife guys lol)! she brings you up in every conversation, media tours about her own movies, acceptance speeches, if this woman is talking ITS GONNA BE ABOUT YOU.
Abby giggled into the mic and took a deep breath, “and to my wonderful, beautiful, intelligent, and talented partner,” Abby grinned and pointed towards you in the crowd, “you kept me company, you’ve loved me up and down, you share your heart with me, I love you and… thank you.” Abby held up her shining, golden statue, “in the wise words of Beyoncé, ‘I would never let you go before I go’!”
- the amount of lovesick poems you’ve written for this woman could make a bridge.
- oh, y’all hard launched on a random thursday!
- there’s a famous paparazzi picture of the two of you stumbling out of a club with bright red cheeks, swollen lips, messy hair, and a sparkling grin on both of your faces.
- Abby lovesssss to interact with your fans at concerts!! she’s dancing, she’s screaming lyrics, she’s trading bracelets, she’s putting glitter makeup all over her body, and she 100% is recording every single song you perform even if she’s seen you perform it a dozen times.
- double dates with other celeb couples all the time.
- incredible street wear.
- met gala looks are always stunning and there’s not a single photo where Abby isn’t absolutely adoring you.
- you both talk so highly of each other in the press :,)
Abby patiently listened to the interviewers questions, waiting for the moment she could bring you up. Her face lit up when the interviewer asked what kept her going, “oh, absolutely my partner! No one has ever been so proud of me like they have. Sometimes I need a break from my work of lying in front of a camera and here’s my lovely partner planning their next stadium tour four years ahead. It’s incredibly special to have someone so dedicated and so inspiring around.”
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tightjeansjavi · 10 months
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My Favorite Part
Dieter Bravo x f!reader
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A/N: thank you to @sp00kymulderr for inspiring me for this idea! I’m getting more comfortable writing Dieter and he is so pookie in this little slice of fluff. Seriously, he is so bf material I am foaming at the mouth. The title is based off of Mac Millers (RIP) “My Favorite Part” featuring Ariana Grande. It is one of my favorite Mac Miller songs and it fits so well with this.
Enjoy ♡
~word count: 1.7k~
Summary: Dieter Bravo wins his first Oscar as a supporting actor. He ditches the after party with you just so he can have you all to himself. His favorite part of the evening is doing skincare with you, sharing a joint, and of course lots and lots of kissing.
Warnings: fluff on fluff on fluff. Dieter is so pookie in this. bf material to a T. Pet names, like a lot of them. His favorite is calling you sugar tits, lots of soft feels, kissing, cuddles, dancing in their underwear, more kissing, skincare, mentions of getting high, vulgar language because c’mon, this is Dieter Bravo we’re talking about here. (+18) minors dni!
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Your boyfriend Dieter Bravo never failed to show you off to the world as his, his girl. Award shows, premieres, galas, you name it. Dieter always loved having you on his arm. He’d make sure that the paparazzi on the red carpet would get all of your good angles. He was your biggest fucking cheerleader, and you were his. Anytime he was interviewed, (he fucking hated everything about interviews) he would make a point to bring you up. My girlfriend this, my girlfriend that, every single time. Who’s my biggest supporter? My girl. She’s amazing and I'm so lucky to have her by my side. Of course, all of Hollywood was convinced that Dieter would never settle down. He would forever be the diva party boy, until he met you.
His favorite part after an award show, or fancy event, was going home with you, of course. The after party for him was helping you out of your dress, taking your heels off, and pulling you into his lap, in nothing but his shirt so that he can take your makeup off.
He loves it. He loves having that level of intimacy with you. That’s often why you and him skip all the fancy after parties. You’ve been to so many of them, and Dieter has no problem skipping all of them just so he can have you all to himself.
Tonight however is the biggest night in Dieter’s career as an actor. The Oscars. An event he had dreamed about being invited to. Not only was he invited, he was nominated too. You still remember just how sticky the two of you had gotten after he sprayed an expensive bottle of champagne all over when the news dropped. His first major motion picture role, and he was nominated for a fucking Oscar.
Time seemed to stop for both you, and Dieter when his name was announced for best supporting actor. Dieter had practically launched himself into your arms, lifting you up and spinning you around excitedly. You had nearly hit Leonardo Dicaprio in the face with one of your sparkly heels. Dieter wishes you had just for the fact that Leo had the audacity to hit on you at a party, and Dieter had no problem calling him a creep to his face. The damage control after that? Oh, it was a fun time. Dieter was shocked that he still had a publicist after all that.
None of that mattered now as he practically ran up to the stage. He had the biggest beaming smile as he accepted the Oscar graciously. He swore a lot in his speech. So much so, that almost every word was bleeped out. You could already picture his publicist downing another bottle of wine. Other than Dieter’s vulgar language, he thanked you at least 100 times in his speech. In his eyes, you were the real star.
At the extravagant after party, there were photos of you and Dieter kissing either side of his Oscar, and you of course. He was required to stay at least an hour at the party. However, in true Dieter Bravo fashion, he was pulling you and him out of there 30 minutes in. “C’mon, sugar tits, let's blow this popsicle joint.” He whispered cheekily against your ear. Dieter had a plethora of pet names for you, and sugar tits was his favorite. “Lead the way, my movie star.” You whispered back as he grabbed your hand in his, lacing your fingers together.
You’re back at the hotel finally, and Dieter is carrying you bridal style up to your shared room. He wastes no time to playfully toss you upon the soft comforter. He steals a few kisses, before he’s on his knees in front of you. His palm is warm against your ankle as he’s helping you take your heels off. “These are the ones I picked out for you, right baby? They’re so pretty.” He presses a light kiss to your calf as he slips your other heel off.
“Mhm. They’re the pair you picked out for me baby. You have such good taste.” You lightly giggled as he pressed an open mouthed kiss to your knee.
“Well, duh. Course I have good taste, baby doll. I think I might have to borrow them sometime.” He flashes you a grin as his stubble gently scrapes against the skin on your thigh. His puppy dog brown eyes are twinkling under the soft hotel lighting. He looks so pretty.
“I would pay some serious money to see you rock those Dee.” You brush your fingers through his soft curls with a soft smile.
“You’re cute. You can pay me in kisses. How’s that sound?” He presses another light kiss to your warm skin before he stands up. He steals a few more kisses as he helps you up, twirling you around so your back is pressed to his chest. He ghosts his lips across your shoulder blades, and down your spine as he gently pulls the zipper of your dress down.
“I think I can pay you in more than just kisses.” You grin to yourself.
“Ah ah ah. Don’t go getting any dirty ideas, my pretty girl. We got all night for that, baby cakes. Right now? I just wanna love on ya a little. So you better suck it up and enjoy it.” He says teasingly.
You let out a faux sigh of disappointment as you lean back in his warm embrace. “Oh, alright. I’ll play nice.”
“That’s my girl.” He presses a sweet kiss to your cheek before helping you out of your dress.
Soon enough you’re just in his T-shirt and sitting comfortably in his lap. Your legs are loosely wrapped around his waist as he gently wipes your makeup away. “Close your eyes, honey.” He whispers as he gently swipes the makeup wipe across the sparkly eyeshadow on your eyelids. His tongue pokes out as he concentrates on the task at hand. He hums softly. The combination has your heart swelling out of your chest.
This is by far your favorite part too. Dieter always insists on helping you take your makeup off, and who are you to tell him no? He’s always so sweet, so gentle with you. Once your makeup is wiped from your face, Dieter is already ordering room service. Burger, fries, onion rings, dessert too of course. He’s in nothing but his boxers on the bed. You're wrapped around his body like a koala. Your cheek nuzzled against his back, arms wrapped around his middle as he rolls a joint for you to share.
You find yourself pressing warm kisses to his shoulder blades, humming into his skin. “My Favorite Part” by Mac Miller featuring Ariana Grande is the song playing on his phone. It’s one of yours and Dieter’s favorite. He’s humming with you now as he finishes rolling the joint, tucking it behind his ear before he’s turning around and pulling you up from the bed. “Can I have this dance, m’lady?” He asks in a playful tone.
“Why of course you may, kind sir. I never thought you’d ask.” You giggle.
Dieter lightly twirls you a couple times, watching the pure beauty radiating from your face. The warm glow of the hotel lighting is soft on your skin. He loves the way your eyes sparkle, how they hold so much adoration whenever you look at him. Your smile is so contagious that he can’t stop himself from grinning. He pulls you back against his chest, swaying you in his arms gently as he whispers the words he knows by heart against your ear. His chin resting on your shoulder, arms draped around your waist.
Said, you just don't know how beautiful you are
And baby that's my favorite part
You walk around so clueless to it all
Like nobody gonna break your heart
It'll be alright babe, see, me, I got you covered
I'm gon' be your lover, you might be the one
Your room service arrives by the time the song is over. Dieter kisses you sweetly before he’s laying the silver trays of food out on the bed while you disappear into the bathroom to grab two packaged face masks, and a couple serums and a face roller.
Dieter is comfortably laying amongst the fluffy pillows on the bed spread, waiting for you. He taps his thighs lightly, signaling you to go and join him. You straddle his hips with ease as you gently tear open the face mask package and lay the mask across his skin. His eyes flutter close, a light hum slipping past his lips as you smooth down the edges of the mask. “Love you so much, pretty girl. My pretty girl. Angel baby, sugar–” You cut him off by gently placing your index finger against his pouty lips. “Shhh..I love you too baby. I’m so proud of you Dee.”
“My cheerleader.” He says with a toothy grin. You steal a quick kiss, or two before Dieter gently lays you on your back next to him. He applies your face mask just as gently as you did with his. He kisses your lips, then the tip of your nose. He chuckles when you scrunch your nose up as he nibbles lightly on it.
“You’re such a biter, you know that?” You whisper as you thread your fingers through his soft curls.
“Mhm. You love it though sweetcheeks.” He lightly nudges his nose against yours, eliciting a giggle to slip past your lips.
“You got me there, Bravo. You got me there.”
Face masks on, joint lit, french fries on deck. It’s absolutely the perfect way to end Dieter’s big night. You pass the joint between each other, turning into two giggling fools when the sweet high from the herb begins to hit your systems. Dieter has a lazy grin on his face as he rests his weight on his elbow, feeding you a french fry.
Dieter Bravo may have won an Oscar, but a gold trophy meant fuck all to him if he didn’t get to share the moment with you. So, maybe he had more than one favorite part. He had a lot, and they all began, and ended with you. His girl. His star.
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Tag List: @chaotic-mystery @peterhollandkait @sp00kymulderr @lovers-liability @dinsdjrn @yazsos @last-girl @korynnekorynne @pedgeitopascal
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sgiandubh · 4 months
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An intimate lunch
Coming back to this particular C pic, which has sparkled endless comments, today (still very busy days for me & I gave in and binged TCND - this explains the ungodly hour):
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Dots have been connected (there are, after all, alternative Keepers of the Dots, a sobriquet I am therefore relinquishing, thanking again the friend who gifted it to me). And comments -ranging from stan blindness to unreasonable conspiracy theories - have been written too.
Tellingly enough, the wording of the Finch and Partners IG post was quite suggesting: 'an intimate lunch' means more than promo, almost a personal get together with, at the very least, carefully selected people.
Was she coat-tailing? Very probably, to the extent she is understandably interested in getting more acting (directing?) projects after OL. And to make it clear: there is nothing bad to it.
Did she know Cooper before? There is no way in hell to confirm it with 100% accuracy, but my guess is no. Someone, as it has been pointed out, obliged. These are the simple, expected minimum benefits of a PR agent, a Rolodex and of networking. And it is true: she has been consistently on Finch's list and invited at many of their events since at least 2016. Which is to say, since IFH? Oh. OK. No further questions, Your Honor.
Was it a reward for dragging along McIdiot at that Netflix gala, the day before? Even taking into account her visible lack of enthusiasm, I am afraid things are not as simple and mechanic as alternatively dangling the proverbial carrot and stick. It's a quid pro quo, not a reward. A part in a movie would be a reward - not a lunch in town: that would be selling herself very cheaply.
But of course, we are all idiots, as this reaction from a particularly ungifted Mordor pundit would like us to think:
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This post is not about S, of course. And the posited question is a superb logical fallacy: S is 'never invited to any of these events', because his side projects are different and his social media communication strategy is different, too. She was not there because of S and no one on this side of the fandom seriously suggested it.
Also, let's not show more idiocy than you are naturally able of, denizens of Mordor: Cooper did not really need her 1 (one) Academy Awards vote. And do you know why? Well, her vote would not make any serious difference among the 7,999 others, this is why:
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Yes, the Britannica: I know it pisses you, and many other people, mightily off.
But perhaps she was there also because of this?
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Enlighten me, please, since I am such a forgetful idiot, what on Earth might have happened to The Cut? You know, the project she was shooting just before the SAG-AFTRA strike began?
Crickets. And, which is more alarming...
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If proven correct, this IMDb info is not very good news and I would be bereft for her. Honestly. Check the link: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt26697087/fullcredits/?ref_=tt_cl_sm. It lists the entire crew, up to the last best boy. Whatever happened to C's part? Whatever happened to C? The movie is now announced in post-production. Surely we'll know very soon, one way or another. But if her part has been slashed out, it's only normal to be more active and scout any possible project opportunity.
Ultimately, the core problem remains unchanged: since she did not post this picture on her socials, she is still as uninterested in them as she's always been. Always. And sorry for repeating myself, but spare some scarce mention about make-up and attire (presumably to be nice to personal friends), she does not engage with this fandom. At all. That does not leave her stans with many options but to write their own fanfic, while accusing us (who may know a bit more than them, at any rate) of doing the same.
Smart girl, C. I am sure S&C divided their respective roles in the 'Coping with the Narrative' in-house production for a very long time and this is the most important thing of them all. The rest is babble, including this post.
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