#fluffy alex

[chemo-n-vicodin]

heyooo, i saw that you are looking for requests 👀 im think something like the reader is exhausted after a long day and alex comes home after spending the whole day at studio so she tries to make him comfortable (like cooking for him and stuff like that) but nothing is working out and shes just on the verge of a mental breakdown because os exhaustion and frustration so Al takes care of her (idk im sleep deprived) (also its ok if you dont feel like writing it) Anywayssss, have a nice day :)

hii !!! im sorry this took literally forever HELP also i made it fluff i hope you dont mind, hope u have a nice day too <33

alex turner x gn!reader

(i imagine this as early sias/coconut hair alex, but the era isnt really described in the fic so u can imagine whoever)

warnings: reader breaks down; kinda angsty in that sense ? but reader gets comforted; ending is fluffy though

when alex comes home, he usually finds you in the living room, watching tv or summat, or playing with your cat milo. you’re usually there, welcoming him home with hugs and kisses and the warmth you always bring him, but today, the house was quiet when he came home.

he calls your name once, twice, before going into his and your room to check if you’re there, maybe just resting or reading.

when he goes inside, he doesn’t expect to see you laying on the bed, hugging a pillow tight, on his side of the bed, with milo also laying near you as you slept. when he takes a closer look at your resting state, he doesn’t expect to see tears drying on your cheeks. he tries leaving the room to let you rest for a while, but you wake up before he can, milo also getting up and leaving.

“al? hi, baby,” you yawn, checking your phone, “fuck, is that the time? i’ll go get dinner cooking,” you mumbled, getting up and walking to the kitchen. alex looped his arm around your waist, pressing a quick peck to your lips before asking if everything was okay. “okay? yeah, why wouldn’t it be, baby,” you mumbled again before continuing to walk to the kitchen.

fifteen minutes pass by and you haven’t made anything for your and alex’s dinner yet, your mind seemingly so preoccupied with other things that you can’t even focus on making two simple dishes. you don’t know what you’re doing wrong, but you just can’t get the soup to taste right, and you don’t know why the chicken isn’t cooking properly.

alex comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder, your head leaning into his chest as you tried turning up the heat for the chicken.

“babe, i don’t think you left the chicken out to thaw for long enough,” he tells you. and it bothers you. it bothers you that he’s right and you didn’t even notice. now you’ve got a frozen half a chicken sitting on the hottest frying pan in the world, and when you check the bottom of the chicken it’s already a little burnt, with flecks of black scattered across it, and you don’t know what’s wrong, why you’ve burnt dinner, why you can’t just focus, why you just can’t seem to do anything right —

and suddenly alex is holding you in his arms on the kitchen floor, tears flowing out of your eyes as you cry. cry about what exactly, you wonder. the half frozen half burnt half a chicken? the soup that tastes so peppery because you’ve accidentally added so much black pepper? the fact that it felt like everyone and everything kept pushing your buttons today, even the poor old lady at the crosswalk who moved a little too slow that you got left at a red light?

sometimes, everything became too much.

alex let you lay in his arms for as long as you needed, even after the tears subsided and were reduced to sniffles. he hugged you even tighter then.

“you okay now, love?” you nodded against his chest. “you wanna go back in bed?” you nodded again. you turned to switch the stoves off, but he’d already turned them off without you noticing. he lifted you up in his arms, bridal style, “then let’s get you back to bed.”

--

you don’t know how long you’ve been laying in bed with alex, but you’ve definitely calmed down since he brought you to bed. your head is still buried in his chest as you’re playing with his hair and he rubs your cheek with his thumb, his touch more soothing than anything else in that moment. milo comes up to the bed and lays on your side, playing with your tummy, also somehow soothing you.

”better?” you just nodded. “sorry i was at the studio all day, love... if you want me to stay with you, you can tell me and we can do whatever you want, okay?” he kissed your forehead.

“thank you, baby,” you whispered, slowly falling asleep in his arms, “i love you,” you mumbled before you fell asleep.

once he was sure you were asleep, he kissed your forehead again, milo purring as he pet him.

“i love you too.” he followed you to sleep.

#AHDJDHFKGJ #first writing post in *checks clipboard* MONTHS ??!!?!?? #acts surprised... even though i know ive not been doing anything about it.... um.. #ANYWAYS #i hope u like this bella !!! #mine: writing #alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner fluff #alex turner fanfic #idk what tags ppl use anymore bru #fluffy alex #fics: alex #requested #tee hee

[alexturner]

#arctic monkeys #arcticmonkeysedit #amedit #amgif #alex turner #alexturneredit #glastonbury #glastonbury 2023 #the car era #mine #mine: gifs #mine: arctic monkeys #gifs2023 #edits2023 #FLUFFY #in love with him again btw

[subtle-as-an-earthquake]

tiny little puppet 🩵 [x]

#after the canal+ show #this video is everything to me #alex is so little and so sleepy #he is so bloody CUTE #and miles is so lovely and attentive to everyone #and then alex finally gets in the car and he just wants to gooo miiiiilesss come onnnnn #but miles it too polite #it's so cute #also alex's hair is EXTREMELY fluffy and adorable here #this is totally them in my baby puppets fic btw #tlsp #the last shadow puppets #baby puppets #alex turner #baby alex #my gifs

[daddy-long-legssss]

thanks to the - uhhh - the wonderful string players as well for ... helping us out there 😜🎸

+

#i think about this often #on the daily in fact #his cheeky little face #pointing his guitar like a little flirt #it's basically finger guns #such a soft and fluffy shadow puppy #the 'memories' cover lives in my mind rent free #miles' immaculate vocals and alex 'ooouhhing' and 'ahhhhing' with the string players in the background is my favourite thing in the world #and alex playing miles' guitar 🥹 #alex turner #the last shadow puppets #bcc electric proms 2008 #the age of the understandment #tlsp #taotu era #my gifs #mine #daddy-long-legssss

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

x

#i just realised i haven't posted a humbug era alex gifset yet in 2024 #so clearly that had to be remedied #please enjoy fluffy ethereal little alex playing cornerstone 💗 #god what i wouldn't give to be able to travel back in time and watch them play during this era 😭 #alex turner #arctic monkeys #humbug era #alex gifs #my gifs #lulu posts

[hagenwo43]

#awwwwww so cute #logiebear #he looks so young #maybe it’s the freshly shaven face #and the extremely fluffy hair #can u stroke my hands thru it? #also Alex in the background doing typicallbalex things 😭 #alex albon #logan sargeant #williams racing #formula one

[putting-it-into-parc]

pastry's girl (papaya problems - part 2)

masterlist

continuation of papaya problems (part 1).

Lando x reader, Oscar x reader (4.3k words)

summary: dating lando is not the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. until it is. oscar’s there to pick up the pieces.

warnings: cheating (not by reader), just the teensiest bit of smut (lol finally did it, nothing too explicit), angst, mild violence, colorful language, evil lando (i promise i love him irl)

pastry’s girl

There is, mercifully, a two-week break between Monaco and Canada. Several times, George invited the entire gaming squad over to his place (probably to show off how nice it was—and sometimes his cooking skills, which Oscar had to admit lived up to the hype). One night, they played a heated round of Call of Duty which resulted in a drunken Alex locking Lando inside of a massive pantry…and Lando drinking a fifty-year-old bottle of Cabernet in the wine cooler within. George had kicked Lando out for the night, rolling his eyes as he called his driver and asked him to please remove this miscreant from my residence. The rest of them fell asleep in various empty rooms around his massive house.

Oscar rubbed his eyes the next morning as he made his way to the kitchen, following the scent of pancakes that George was undoubtedly conjuring up.

“Well, don’t you look pretty today,” he heard George say.

“Thanks!” she chirped.

Oscar stopped dead in his tracks.

Wow. Her hair had been freed from its normal messy bun; soft, shiny waves cascaded down her back. She was wearing—not a dress, exactly, but a dusty blue top with scalloped sleeves and a neckline that plunged so deeply he felt a little like hyperventilating, flowing seamlessly into shorts that had the same lacy hem.

Oscar decided in that moment that dusty blue was his favorite color.

She turned to face him, and he saw her eyes, fringed with coal black lashes, widen. Her pink, glossy lips parted in a smile. As devastating as ever.

Oscar swallowed hard. “You look—” he forbade himself from glancing at her long, tanned legs, or that illegal neckline, “—really nice. What’s the occasion?”

“I have a date later,” she announced proudly.

“Oh,” he squeaked.

George’s eyes burned a hole in the back of Oscar’s neck.

“Lucky bloke,” Alex jumped in, casually raising a mug to his lips.

“More like,” George said, “who’s the lucky bloke?”

She blushed. Oscar stared at the ground. “Lando.”

Alex choked, spraying coffee everywhere. “Lando? Like, our Lando? McLaren Lando?” he spluttered.

“What are you gonna say next, McLaren Racing, thirteen-time podium holder, British Formula One driver Lando Norris?” George mocked, making all of them laugh.

“That is so weird,” Alex complained. Then he noticed the hurt look on her face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he quickly backpedaled. “Just more that Lando would never just ask someone out. He’s more of the type to just drunkenly hit on a girl in a bar, you know?”

“It’s okay,” she said with a shrug. “You’re right, he doesn’t seem like the most…romantic type.”

“Well,” George said, “I say good for you. You’re killing it.” He flipped the last of the pancakes on top of a neat stack, slid the plate smoothly towards Oscar, and patted her on the head as he left the kitchen. Alex trotted after him, the filthy traitor, leaving Oscar alone with her.

Last season, Oscar had been engaged in a rather physical match of football against Logan, Alex, and Lando, when Logan had kicked the ball way too aggressively, and it had shot out and hit Oscar right below his ribcage. Naturally, it had knocked the wind out of him, and a few of his ribs were bruised for ages.

He felt a lot like that right now.

Her eyes roamed his face. “You okay?” she asked uncertainly.

No. I’m really not okay. Even though I knew this was coming.

“Yeah,” he said, forcing a smile. “I’m excited for you.”

She twirled a piece of hair around her pointer finger. Anxiously, Oscar thought. He watched her thin gold ring with a tiny jeweled flower set into it, flashing as she spun her finger around and around. “You know what Alex said?” she asked, frowning a little. “Do…do you think it’s true?”

Oscar sighed. Part of him wanted to tell her, Yes, it’s true. That’s just how Lando Norris operates. He doesn’t know how to commit, he’s always just looking for a good time, and he could think you’re hot even if you have absolutely nothing in common. But he knew he’d be a pretty shitty person if he said that, a terrible friend to the only person he truly had in McLaren—his own teammate. And as much as he hated to admit it, part of it would be out of selfishness.

So he tried to keep his face as impassive as possible as he responded, “What I can tell you is that Lando does really like you. And he knows you better than any girl he’d just meet in a bar.” He took a deep breath. “And if he means it in the slightest, he better treat you like it.”

She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks, Oscar.”

~

You had suggested to Lando something chill, something low-key, for your first date, but he would have none of it. He takes you to dinner, a fancy French bistro where you definitely used the wrong fork at least a few times. He compliments your outfit, tells you that you look gorgeous and sexy and how-could-he-be-so-lucky. Then he takes you in his Spider—it’s custom, he says with a grin—to Jimmy’z, a luxurious nightclub illuminated by neon circles in the ceiling, moving strobes encircling a massive disco ball smack in the center. He brings you whatever drink you ask for, twirls you around on the dance floor, even whispers to the DJ to request your favorite song. He doesn’t get drunk, not in the way you were scared he might.

At the end of the night, he kisses you, tasting faintly of Jack Daniels, and you think his lips feel a little sloppy, but nice. You watch him drive away in the Spider, wondering if Oscar ever did finish watching Killing Eve, wrapped up in his blanket like a burrito.

~

Juggling being both a pit crew member and a driver’s girlfriend is...interesting, to say the least. You beg Lando to keep it quiet, at least for a little, and he agrees reluctantly. Alex and George are a tougher sell, requiring several thinly veiled threats and a few pointed glares during close calls. You know inside, for some reason, that Oscar would never gossip about you two.

Lando does tell Andrea, the team principal, who you know absolutely dotes on Lando like a son. Like the golden boy of McLaren that he is. Andrea looks surprised when he meets you, tells you he’s glad Lando finally has what appears to be a “smart, levelheaded girlfriend.”

Lando takes you to more fancy dinners, more bars, clubs where he occasionally DJs. Once, he takes you golfing, laughs at how inept your swing is, guides your arms with his. You ask Lando if he’s seen Killing Eve; he’s never heard of it. He’s not the biggest TV guy, prefers to spend his time streaming on his Twitch. The dates are fun, you suppose, but some nights end in you quite literally dragging yourself into bed, totally spent after an entire evening trying to match Lando’s energy. You know Lando’s face wears a look of disappointment on those nights.

You still game with Alex, George, Lando, and Oscar, and things are…well, mostly normal. Alex and George bicker like they always used to; if anything, they gleefully snatch any opportunity to poke fun at the two of you, liberally making kissy faces and rude noises. You don’t mind that. Lando is touchy as hell, perpetually leaning against you or putting his head in your lap or kissing you on the cheek. You don’t mind that too much, either.

But Oscar is different. Oscar is not normal. He stops laughing at Lando’s jokes, stops laughing at George and Alex taunting you two. And eventually, something you dreaded the most: Oscar stops coming to game altogether.

On the third night in a row without any sign of him, you wait until Lando makes a mad dash for the bathroom before confronting George and Alex about Oscar’s absence.

Alex looks uncharacteristically grim. “I mean, what did you expect?” he asks. “He doesn’t want to see you two making eyes at each other over Rocket League.”

“He's not blaming you,” George cuts in quickly.

“I blame Lando Norris,” mutters Alex under his breath.

“Tell him to come back,” you plead. “If we’re being annoying and couple-y, we can—we will—stop.”

Alex smirks. “Tell that to Norris. You’re not the one being annoying and couple-y.”

“Listen,” George says, suddenly serious. “I know we were giving you a hard time about Oscar earlier this season, and to be totally fair, he’s not exactly the most forthcoming guy about his feelings. But it felt pretty obvious to us that he was into you, and Norris just snatched you up out of nowhere.”

Alex nods in agreement. “Oscar never talks about girls. Or at least never talked about them, until you came around. Norris on the other hand…I mean, by now I’m sure you know his reputation. So can you really blame us for feeling bad for the guy?”

Your heart sinks. It can’t be. You open your mouth to protest, but Lando comes barging back into the room right then, and plants a big kiss on your forehead as Alex makes gagging noises in the background.

~

There was no winning. Not for Oscar. He could sit there and watch Lando manhandle her on a weekly basis, or he could spend Tuesday nights wondering about what stupid joke of Alex’s she was laughing at, what new show she was raving about that Oscar would promptly Google (and sometimes binge) over the following race weekend. To the great credit of George and Alex, they still made the time to game with him, separate from the happy couple.

So when he crashed out at Silverstone on Lap 45, having taken a hit to his rear left from Esteban, even he was surprised at the string of swearwords that he spit into the team radio. (He was pretty sure that fucking-10-second-penalty-for-fucking-Ocon was among them.) The silence from his engineers told him that they were just as shocked by the normally mild-mannered driver. Oscar instantly regretted it; angry radios were a one-way ticket to Memeville. He didn’t know how Yuki and Max cursed with such abandon.

Lando finished P3, narrowly snatching a podium over a soulless Charles Leclerc, whose team robbed him of a crucial pit stop. Oscar watched him shake Lando’s hand, eyes devoid of any emotion, and privately felt a bitter kinship with the tortured Monégasque.

She had sprinted over to his car as soon as he had driven it into the pit lane, fretted over whether he was okay. Helped him out of the car. As the drivers milled around the paddock after the race, she slipped a bar of Cadbury Dairy Milk—his favorite—into his hand, and asked him to tell Lando that she had a bad headache and that she’d try to get to the hotel. Oscar nodded silently, handing her the keys to his driver’s room so she could at least take a nap in the meantime, watched her eyes light up in gratitude.

He begrudgingly relayed the information to Lando, who didn’t seem to register a word of what Oscar said as he raised his trophy victoriously, greeting his adoring British fans.

“Did you hear me?” Oscar growled. “She’ll be in my driver’s room. I told her you’d come see her as soon as you could.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lando waved him away.

George and Alex walked over after the race and clapped Oscar on the back in sympathy; they’d both had their fair share of crashes on Silverstone. Sensing that Oscar was in no mood to celebrate, the three of them decided just to go get dinner post-race instead. They followed George down to the Mercedes motorhome to grab a set of keys when, almost simultaneously, the three of them all noticed a flash of papaya among the black-and-teal-clad Mercedes crew.

Oscar froze. The papaya was Lando. And he was pressing up against some Mercedes girl, her smiling, him caressing her teal collar. Oscar knew George and Alex were both gaping next to him. He turned away in disgust as Lando leaned down to press his lips onto the girl’s.

So he had been listening, after all.

~

“Oscar, wait,” Alex’s voice floated behind him as he stalked out of the Mercedes motorhome and towards his own.

“I’m not going to dinner,” he snapped.

“I know, mate,” said Alex sympathetically. “This whole thing is such shit, and Norris is a little bastard.”

George caught up. “Someone’s got to tell her, don’t you think?”

A wave of nausea hit Oscar. He could already picture the look on her face, see the disbelief and betrayal and heartbreak.

“Let me do it,” Alex said gently. “If she wants to shoot the messenger, way better me than you.”

Oscar swallowed. “She’s in my driver’s room,” he told Alex. “She probably will want to go back to the hotel, though, if you don’t mind—”

“Yeah, mate,” said Alex definitively. “I’ll take her where she wants to go. And I’ll let you know what happens.”

“Thanks, man.” He closed his eyes, rubbed his throbbing temples. He felt Alex touch his shoulder briefly, then disappear. When he finally opened his eyes again, George was looking at him, face lined with concern.

“We should go on a walk,” he said quietly, and stood up.

Oscar numbly followed his lead.

“Or not,” George muttered, as Lando and his entourage of McLaren staff—including Andrea—sauntered into the motorhome.

Lando’s face wore a look of gleeful triumph as he made his way towards the two of them. But Oscar saw a flicker of something else—smugness. I always win, it seemed to say. And better yet—I can get away with anything.

And it was that tiny, tiny flicker that compelled Oscar to step forward, raise his right arm, and smoothly drive his fist straight into Lando’s nose in one fluid motion.

The entire room went silent.

“What the FUCK, man?!” Lando screeched. He covered his nose with his hands. Blood seeped out from between this fingers.

“You had no right,” Oscar snarled viciously.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Lando hissed back.

“We saw you kiss her, you piece of shit. In broad fucking daylight. In the fucking Mercedes motorhome, of all places.”

Oscar expected Lando’s face to crumple, whether in genuine or feigned shame, but not to glare defiantly back.

“Yeah, that’s rich, coming from you,” Lando snapped.

“What?”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t know she was obsessed with you,” he sneered. “You’re just as much of an asshole to her as I am.”

“I’m not,” Oscar said, stunned. What did Lando mean, obsessed? After that night—he winced at the memory—it looked like she was doing everything she could to avoid Oscar. And then, Lando told him that he wanted to ask her out. So he’d kept his distance. Didn’t Lando see that?

“Oscar and Lando,” Andrea said sternly. “I’ll be seeing you two in the office. Now.”

Oscar stared back at Lando unflinchingly.

“I did it for you,” he spat, before following Andrea to the back of the motorhome.

~

“MY drivers,” Andrea fumed. “MY FORMULA ONE drivers, punching each other out in MY motorhome! Would somebody care to explain what the hell happened out there?”

Both Lando and Oscar stared at the floor.

“Yeah, about that,” said George, somehow having invited himself into the meeting. “Sooooo….Lando here decided to suck face with one of the staff over at Mercedes while his girlfriend is dying of a headache back in the driver’s room.”

Andrea’s nostrils flared.

“Did I mention his girlfriend?” George added, clearly trying to get a point across.

Andrea stalked around his desk and leaned in, face close to Oscar’s. He’d never seen Andrea this mad before, and he had to admit, he was a tad afraid of what the principal might do to him.

He squinted. “Did you put your weight behind it?”

“Excuse me?” Oscar said, not sure if he heard correctly.

“Did you put your weight behind it, Piastri?” Andrea repeated impatiently.

“Uh, yes, sir.”

Andrea gave a singular heaving sigh, rubbing his hands together. “Well. Alright then.” And he gestured for the three of them to leave his office with a flourish.

~

In your hotel room, the only source of light comes from your laptop, which is playing The Art of Racing in the Rain. Despite it being a tearjerker of a movie, you always felt compelled to reach for it whenever your own life felt like it was crumbling into dust.

Denny is taking Enzo for a run in the rain when your phone lights up with a text.

Oscar Hey Alex told me he brought you back to the hotel Me yeah he did

Alex had been incredibly kind as he broke the news to you, wiping your tears with the sleeve of his undersuit, borrowing a Williams staff car to drive you back to your hotel instead of calling you an Uber, buying you a little pack of extremely overpriced hotel Advil for your headache. He asked you if you wanted to be with anyone. You briefly considered the people you knew on staff, the drivers, thought about whether any of them could make you feel…if not better, at least comfortable.

But really, there was only one answer.

Oscar Can I come in?

And for only the second time ever, you open your door to Oscar standing there. As soon as you see him, gazing at you with the most heartbreaking sadness in his eyes, you start to cry.

“Shhh,” he says, wrapping his arms around you. “Let’s sit down.”

You nod, sniffling, and Oscar eases the door closed behind him, joins you on the bed.

“Art of Racing,” he notes quietly. “It’s a good movie.”

You admit that it’s your go-to sad film. Oscar offers up an arm, and you slide in next to him, letting him wrap it around your shoulders.

“Thanks for coming.” Your voice is shaky.

Oscar gives you a light squeeze. “I’ll always come,” he whispers.

You sit there, side by side, watching Enzo’s golden ears flap in the wind of Denny’s racecar. Oscar orders food, and as you pull a slice of Hawaiian-without-the-pineapple from the box, watching the cheese stretch into thin strings, you wonder how things could have changed so much since the last time you ate pizza together. Before everything went so terribly, horribly wrong.

~

“Are you tired?” Oscar asks you a few hours later. Killing Eve is playing on the TV, even though you’ve both watched the whole show now. Just background noise. It's what you need. You’re lying on his arm, face nestled between his neck and chest. Not unlike the morning you woke up to him.

“I don’t know if I can sleep tonight,” you admit. “So feel free to go back if you want to go to bed.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Oscar says, gently but insistently. Warmth fills your body at his words, which gives way to longing. You want closer. You want him. You press yourself against his chest, angle your jaw upwards, closer to his lips…

And Oscar pulls away, his body suddenly rigid.

An icy chill pours into your stomach, supplanting the warmth that had filled your body just a moment earlier.

“It’s my fault,” mumbles Oscar, barely comprehensible.

What? “What are you talking about?” you eke out.

“George’s kitchen,” he says.

You shiver, feeling like you’re in a dark cave, and Oscar’s holding the sole flashlight between the two of you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Oscar.”

“In Monaco. I told you that Lando likes you. I told you that you should go out with Lando.”

Your heart twists. “Oscar,” you say fiercely, “you can’t blame yourself for that.”

He just shakes his head.

“It’s only Lando’s fault,” you insist. “And honestly…I shouldn’t have gone out with him in the first place. I didn’t feel it...for him.”

“Lando came up to me one day,” Oscar says slowly. “He asked me about you, about that night I slept over. He asked how I’d feel about him asking you out…”

The ice climbs up your arms, down to your fingers that are still touching Oscar’s jawline. You wrench them away, knowing what's coming.

“And you told him you’re okay with it,” you whisper dejectedly. You understand now.

You need to tell him.

“Oscar…all this time, you’ve been so sweet and kind and caring…” You furiously blink back the fresh tears gathering in the crevices of your eyes. “And since basically day one, I’ve just been letting myself read into it, letting myself think that you weren’t just being nice. I let myself think that you wanted me…because I wanted you.”

Oscar’s eyes widen. He looks almost fearful, you think.

“And when Lando asked me out, I said yes thinking that dating him…would help me get over you,” you continue. The tears have long since started streaming down your face; it’s all you can do to stop your voice from shaking. “To get over how badly I wanted you, but you never wanted me—”

You gasp as Oscar grabs you roughly by the waist, a stark contrast to the gentle arm around the shoulders earlier. He presses his body right up against yours, and what you feel on him—on his body—may well be lighting you on fire.

“Look at me,” he says. A shiver runs down your spine. “I said, look at me,” he repeats, more forcefully.

You obey, looking into his eyes, and are met with something so raw and ferocious, so unlike the Oscar that you've known, that you’re afraid you’re going to faint.

“Still think I don’t want you?” Oscar asks in a low voice.

A small choke escapes your throat. Wordlessly, you bring your hand back up to his jaw, tracing the bottom edge of his lips.

Oscar needs no more invitation. He seals the chasm between you.

His mouth explores yours, tentatively at first, then hungrily. Your lips part as a breath hitches in your throat, and Oscar uses the opportunity to slip his tongue in between them. His hand slides up your back from your waist, around your neck, then dances around your jaw. You play with that perfect, smooth wave of hair near his temples with one hand, feel the tension in the muscles of his shoulders, his back, his abs with the other. Playing with the hem of his white t-shirt.

As soon as he feels your fingers graze his stomach, Oscar breaks the kiss, looking at you imploringly with those beautiful brown eyes.

“If you’re okay with it,” you whisper.

Oscar answers by tugging the shirt over his head, letting it dangle from his fingers, landing with a soft thud on the floor. He leans in again, but his lips are now everywhere besides your lips—your neck, tracing your collarbone, moving up your jaw. An involuntary hiss escapes you as he takes your earlobe between them. The sound seems to energize Oscar, his own breathing growing ragged as he slips the silky straps of your top down your shoulders and kisses you dangerously low on your chest, thumbs brushing little circles on them, making you whimper.

“Tell me when you want me to stop,” he murmurs into the fabric.

You never want him to stop. You need all of him, need him like a wilting plant needs water, like a blazing fire needs oxygen.

You have no idea…

You shake your head, and all restraint is gone. Oscar makes up for all the ground he’d been holding back on, with his hands, with his lips.

…how long I’ve been waiting…

You pull off his shorts, sigh as he reciprocates. There’s not a stitch of clothing left in between your bodies.

…for you to be here.

One more pleading look, one more fervent nod, and Oscar, so tender even in the middle of an aching, desperate storm, finally closes the gap.

~

Freckles. Three of them. But there’s no t-shirt this time.

“Wake up, sleepy,” you whisper.

Oscar stirs. “You must have mistaken me for your pillow,” he says, smiling at you. Your stomach flutters.

“I hope you didn’t mind,” you tell him. He laughs, pulls you fully into a hug, kisses you gently on the top of your head.

“So, I got an interesting text from George yesterday…” you trail off.

“Uh oh,” Oscar says.

You show him your phone, where George had outlined the events that took place in the motorhome in great detail.

“I can’t believe you socked him,” you say, a little incredulously.

Oscar rolls his eyes. “I’m not proud of it, doesn't mean he didn't deserve it.”

Then he sees something on your screen, and grabs your phone. “Wait a sec.”

Me i asked alex to ask oscar to come to the hotel is that bad George Russell Nah. You’re Pastry’s girl. Always have been, always will be. 😏

“I didn’t come up with that nickname,” you protest, blushing. “In fact, I told George to stop calling me that ages ago.”

“Pastry’s girl,” Oscar muses. “Pastry’s girl…I gotta say, I like the sound of that.”

And the sound of his laughter as he scoops you into his arms is, really, as sweet as pastries.

notes:

just realized how real of homies george and alex are…like they also totally get involved with charles in jealousy jealousy 😭 i’m highkey procrastinating on the george x alex fic bc i will not settle for anything less than stellar w those two…

the scene where andrea starts to chew them out? fully stolen from grey’s anatomy, of all places 😂

10 second penalty for ocon

chuck leclerc is soulless fr

yuki and max raging on team radio

part 1 here! more fics here!

#f1 #formula one #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #lando norris #lando norris x you #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris x reader #op81 #ln4 #thank you to the two dms i got asking for a sequel and my inability to sit down and work on my one long george x alex fic #i will atone for my actions with a fluffy lando fic i promise

[rockingtheorange]

FREE CURLS WORLD DOMINATION

From Weibo users

(Text translation: Pen? Whose pen is this? Whose this fooking pen? No one wants it, I'll take it with me. First thing arriving in China, pick up an abandoned pen. I'll bring it back to give it to Henry as a souvenir.)

#🥹🥹🥹 #fluffy #and squishy #taylor zakhar perez #tzp #alex claremont diaz #firstprince #red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie

[i-am-church-the-cat]

Smth about this photo screams werewolf x vampire

#alex’s teeth look so sharp his ears look so pointed his hair looks so fluffy #george’s cheekbones look so defined his lips look so red his sunglasses and hair look so classy #for those who don’t know i’m a supernatural freak #so i enjoy them #george russell #alex albon #galex

[dxcstrange-stuff]

"Moral Decay"

#Still so normal about S3 Alan YEP #fluffy alan friday #stephen dillane #alan blunt #alex rider series #alex rider #alex rider tv #anthony horowitz #my art #artwork #spy #mi6 #fan art #digital art #artists on tumblr #illustration #drawing #fanart #artist #character art

[stonermujer]

Some dad Alex thoughts pls 🫶🏻

Yes ofc

Would be obsessed with his kid carrying them around the house everywhere. He’d let the baby try new foods when they were old enough.

Always giving them Spanish nicknames like mija/mijo. Teaching them words in Spanish as well.

Alex would play with the baby all the time too, whether it be dressing up or playing with figurines.

Although, I think he’d feel guilty when it came to taking care of them especially at night when the baby cries. He’d know your tired and would do the best he could to take care of you and the baby. I also strongly believe he’d be the type of person to still try and be intimate with you. Like cuddling and giving each other kisses. Just because you guys have a baby it doesn’t mean you can’t be close anymore.

I also think his heart would shatter to see the baby cry. Like the bond between his kid would be insane and he’d do anything for your kid.

Just saw ur ask cowboy anon and it reminded me to post this 😭

#alex quackity #quackity #ur mom #deez nuts lmao #quackity drabble #quackity x reader #quackity headcannons #quackity x reader fluff #dad!quackity #quackity fluff #fluffy quackity

[wrylu]

FUCK!!! it's finally done. after a whole day

COD CHARACTERS, but they're B U G S

cw insects!! if you get hibbie jibbies from buggo art or just bugs in general, u can scroll💗

and for those who wanna see the art, it looks better if you click on it and zoom in on it or something :)

the worms in my brain bothered me last night to draw cod characters but they're bugs and this morning i started IMMEDIATELY

at the cost of my fingers, wrists, and hands 🕊

the amount of tags on this one.

#((NOTE: ok first of all WHEN I FIRST POSTED THIS HALF OF THE TAGS GOT FUCKING DELETED SO IM CURRENTLY WRITING THEM ALL AGAIN UGH. #and then it deleted it the second time. omfg. im so angry why tumblr WHY. anyway #... alejandro and rudy don't have like depicting accessories or attributes but i tried #so like i just made the cicada angry because alejandro just LOOKS FUCKING ANGRY ALL THE TIME like bro is 😠 #and if u squint and look very closely you can see one of rudy's moles on the ant's face. clever i know #didn't have enough room for nik so he's just fking floating next to price <3 #didn't know how to do the skull balaclava for ghost so yeah looks a TEENY bit weird #and if u squint AGAIN on farah's head u can see her accessories !! #and gaz's hat is so tiny. idk why i did that LMAO #and if u noticed yes yes yes the red caterpilliar mark IS supposed to be johnny's scar. (im amazing) #there WILL be more of bug cod characters. #maybe even some cute fluffy bug shipping heeheehoo #is this an au? #“AU but cod characters are bugs”)) #wrylu #lu's canvas #au #cod #call of duty #alex keller #farah karim #john price #nikolai cod #rodolfo parra #alejandro vargas #kyle garrick #soap mactavish #simon riley #Call of Duty: Bug AU

[indigosunsetao3]

Hey! Sorry I'm not sure if you're taking requests but there's this trend on tiktok where people are calling their boyfriends their husband and I thought it would be cute to see 141s reaction to the same🥰

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGey2YkXT/

Feel free to take creative liberties otherwise there's no pressure at all to do it! :)

I am definitely taking requests! It's fun to get different prompt/ideas and figuring out to make them work.

This is too cute! I was going to just do a list-type answer but then one thing turned into another and I had all sorts of scenarios running through my mind while at work. So, I took a little creative liberty. Some of them are acknowledging the trend, others are situational conversations.

Hope you enjoy! And you know I had to put Alex in 😘

Alex

It was the second time in a month that a stupid pipe burst. That’s what you got for insisting on buying a fixer upper in the coldest winter the area had seen in years. You had managed to get the water cut off before it completely flooded the whole downstairs then set about cleaning up the mess.

Alex had arrived to find you a frazzled mess as you mopped up the water when your phone rang. The plumber. Alex quickly handed you the phone before he went about mopping. The plumber couldn’t be there today, earliest it would be was Monday. You couldn’t be home that day.

Looking at Alex, who could hear the call, he nodded and mouthed he could be there.

“I won’t be here, but my husband will,” you say. It’s a slip of the tongue. Alex and you didn’t even live together yet but just calling him a boyfriend seemed so minuscule compared to how you felt.

Alex had instantly stopped mopping and watched you curiously. The plumber continued talking but you barely heard what he said. You could feel the burning red of embarrassment on your cheeks as you watched Alex's face for his reaction. This was not a conversation you were ready for. You had wanted to talk to him about it, soon, but not today.

“Right, okay. Yes, his name is Alex, I’ll send you his number,” you assure the man as you continue to stare at Alex. Alex had gone back to mopping but you saw the stupid happy grin on his face as he worked and a hint of a red tinge to his cheeks. Hanging up you set your phone on the counter and take a deep breath.

“Listen I didn’t mean,” you start but Alex leans the mop against the fridge and steps toward you, his feet splashing in the water a bit.

"Oh, I think you did mean it," he answers grabbing your hips. "And here I was thinking I was just your boy toy for home improvement."

"Hush," you answer still feeling the tingle of the blush that had gone up to your ears.

Gaz

Gaz insisted that you still do your monthly book club even though you protest , preferring to spend time with him. Him being home was a luxury and you had honestly started the online club as a way to pass lonely days counting down his return.

Leaning down you read the chat as people start joining. You grin at the number of people you managed to amass in the past few weeks. The beauty of online was anyone from anywhere could join. You had a few people from other countries even and always tried to set the meeting times to be accommodating for all.

After you all start talking and chatting about the book Gaz flops comfortably on the couch next to you handing you a glass of wine. He hadn't read the book but he was still interested in what you were doing so he peers at the screen, the side of his face visible to everyone for a fraction of a second.

It sends the chat into a tizzy. Everyone knew you had a significant other but they had never seen him. The comments are flying which makes you laugh before pointing a few out to Gaz who grins.

“They’re dying to know who you are,” you venture looking over at him. “Comfortable saying hello to my friends?” You raise your eyebrows and Gaz pauses before straightening his shirt in an exaggerated manner, preening himself. He nods and you turn the camera to face him so you are out of screen.

“Everyone this is Kyle,” you say grinning before tacking on, “my husband.” It was a joke, something you had seen people doing online as a trend.

It got his attention though. His eyes flick up to yours as the sounds of the chat pinging start going off tenfold. He's ignoring what people are saying verbally and written as his eyes rake over your face while you casually sip your wine staring back at him.

“My deepest apologies,” Kyle says after a moment as looks back at the camera while undoing the top button of his polo. “But I’m going to have to cut our session a little short. My wife,” he emphasizes the word as his eyes lock on yours, “and I have something to tend to.” He doesn’t give them a chance to respond before he snaps the laptop shut and all but chucks it on the recliner.

He’s on you in a moment, pining you down into the couch as you giggle. “Husband?” He grins and you swear you see him glance at your empty ring finger.

Ghost

Simon wasn't a fan of pictures of himself if his face was visible. He has loads of you though, his camera roll was just random shots of you mixed in with work items and stupid memes from his team. But you barely had any casual pictures of him in return. The pictures were always of you holding hands, or you pressed up against his chest with his arms around you. He didn't mind taking pictures that way, always holding his pose for you until you got it just to your standards after the first or fifty tries. Photography made you happy and even if he was a bit self-conscious about it, he fed your hobby.

The few times you could get a picture of his face with his approval he always had his mask on, only his striking eyes were visible as he stared at you. It was fine, you understood why, but you missed looking at his face when he was gone.

So while you were at a local cafe, safely tucked into a back corner, and he takes off his mask you dare to snap a picture. His hood is up, his lower half of his face obscured by the cup but you could still see his light blond stubble on his jaw. The slight crook of his nose where it had been broken and not set properly years ago. Even a small glimpse of the corner of his lips which were a natural pink that made you envious.

"Love," Simon says quietly as he looks at you from over the cup.

"I'm sorry. The light in here was too good to pass up," you sigh and scroll to delete it, savoring it for a second as your thumb hovers over the trashcan icon. "I miss looking at my husband when you're gone," you explain as you hit the button and watch the picture wipe away.

"Husband?" Simon asks quietly as he sets down his cup and carefully pulls his hood forward a bit to make sure his profile is covered.

You don't answer as you look back up at him and set your phone on the table between you. Instead you grab your own cup and stare right back at him. It was a joke you had seen online, see how your boyfriend reacts to the official title. You didn't expect much from it, maybe a laugh or a joke in response but he doesn't do either.

He instead reaches out to nudge your phone back toward your hand and cock his head to the side a bit. Then he smiles, a genuine heartfelt smile that sets your heart fluttering.

"Go on then," he says nodding his head at the phone. "One picture, just for you. From your husband," he smirks as you fumble for the camera in a rush.

Price

You snuck out of bed early that morning, having to creep quietly out of the room because John was such a light sleeper. It was his birthday and you were determined to give him some sort of a surprise. He always made sure your day was special, always took care of you, so it was your turn.

Shushing the dogs you set about making breakfast, careful to not bang the pans too loud and diving for the kettle as it starts to whistle. It was a simple dish of eggs and bacon with hot tea, but John loved anything hot and homecooked. You had to shove the dogs outside before walking back up the stairs balancing everything carefully before hipping open the door.

"Damn it," you mutter as you see him half sitting up in bed smiling at you. "How long have you been up?"

"Mmm, since you tripped over your slippers," he answers with a small chuckle at your face. You thought you had gotten away with it, he hadn't even twitched as you cussed and caught yourself on the dresser. "You were so determined I didn't want to ruin it," he grins.

"One day I'll surprise my husband," you say with a sigh before setting his tea on the nightstand and the breakfast in his lap. He doesn't answer, doesn't move, as he looks at you. It seems you managed to surprise him after all as his eyebrows climb up toward his messy bed tousled hair.

"Sorry I shouldn't have," you start back peddling. "It's just a joke my friends told me to try. It's all over social media, they did it with their boyfriends and thought it was funny." You explain as he slides the plate off his lap and sets it on the night stand next to his tea.

"Do you think it's a joke?" He asks tilting his head to the side a bit, watching you get flustered and trip over your words. He's grinning now though as he crosses his arms over his bare chest waiting for you to get yourself out of your rambling.

"I mean the trend is a joke," you start, "but I mean if," you were making a mess of this.

"Sweetheart, I was ready to marry you after our second date. I am your husband, even if I haven't managed to get you down that aisle yet." He smiles and tugs you toward him as you attempt to reconcile how a simple joke had John confessing he'd had marriage on the brain for almost a year.

Soap

Another conference for work. At least this time you were able to bring Johnny along. You had forced your boss to agree to let you bring him even if it was only supposed to be for spouses. You told him it was either Johnny came or you wouldn't be there. You’d be damned if you were missing Soap’s short leave to sit in a stuffy room full of men praising their own egos ignoring you because you were a woman.

“Am I fancy enough to be here?” Johnny asks, a teasing smirk on his face. He was in a button down and slacks with a tie to match your cocktail dress for dinner.

“Plenty fancy,” you answer back smiling as you take his extended elbow. “Let’s get this over with,” you huff as you step on the elevator. A networking dinner with other people that were in your field and while it was better having Johnny here it was still not your favorite thing to do.

Johnny gently leaves you to go grab drinks while you stake out an empty table. It's not deserted for long before one of your coworkers stands right next to you at the high top giving you a once over. You had managed to avoid him all day but he had managed to spot you alone and swoop in out of nowhere.

“Who’s the guy?” He asks as he eyes Johnny at the bar striking up a genial conversation with the bartender. You really couldn’t take Johnny anywhere without him making friends. “I thought we were only allowed to bring spouses,” he tacks on. You had been fighting off Mark's advances for months, as politely as possible, but you'd had enough.

“John,” you answer coolly as you set your purse on the standing cocktail table. He didn’t get to call him Johnny. “And who says he isn’t my spouse?” You ask raising an eyebrow. He wasn’t your spouse, you weren’t even formally engaged but to you Johnny was the one anyway.

“Says the lack of any ring,” he says pointing to your hand. He never took no for an answer, ignored you when you said you had a boyfriend. He was persistent and creepy but it was ending tonight.

“John,” you say as Johnny walks over to your other side with a beer and your vodka soda. He knows something is up, his eyebrow quirks at the use of the formality of his name. “I’d like you to meet Mark,” you gesture to him emphasizing the name because Johnny had heard all about him.

“Mark, meet my husband,” you say boldly.

If Johnny was shocked he didn’t let on. He just gently places a hand on your lower back before setting his beer down and extending the other to Mark to shake his hand. You can see him squeeze a bit too hard despite being jovial and kind. The conversation remains casual and a bit forced after that before Mark excuses himself.

Johnny doesn’t say anything at how you introduce him to everyone as your husband, just exchanges pleasantries in return. But you notice his hand never leaves your body in one way or another and he’s been grinning to himself the whole evening. Cutting his eyes to you with a shine to them every time you say husband and even stepping in himself to introduce himself as your husband to a few people.

“Husband, lass?” He asks once he gets you alone in the elevator.

“Sorry,” you mutter kicking off your heels to which he extends a hand to take them without you asking. “Mark just won't get the hint and I,” he cuts you off crowding you into the corner as the lift steadily rises.

“Don’t apologize,” he grins tilting your head up. “I like how it sounds.”

#asks #ask me things #cod #husband trend #alex keller cod #gaz cod #ghost cod #john price cod #soap cod #tf 141 x reader #fluffy

[actual-changeling]

listen i love snake crowley so much and it's perfect in so many ways but i cannot stop thinking about crowley as a black cat.

he still sprawls and inconveniences everyone trying to walk past him even when sitting on a chair. obviously he has the same eyes—his eyes—that glint like a sky full of stars in the dark. a tiny, pink, distantly heart-shaped spot on his otherwise dark nose. short, sleek fur that is soft and shimmers in the sun, and his claws are sharp as anything and a pearling white.

crowley keeps his tattoo, more or less, but instead of a snake it's the tail of a little cat that likes to lounge on top of his ear.

he loves sunbathing in the bookshop or finding small spaces on the shelves to squish himself into, and if you think he cannot scare away customers as a cat—he absolutely can. someone tries to buy a book and next thing they know a cat that really should not be that big is threatening to sink their claws into their hand and growling loud enough to feel it in your chest. (it's also easier to follow aziraphale around outside as a cat, it draws significantly less attention than a big snake slithering on the sidewalk)

sometimes he hangs around aziraphale's neck like a shawl and his angel has to make sure he balances him out at all times or he will get four paws clinging to him and digging their claws into his clothes so he doesn't fall. but he also gets crowley curling up in his lap while he reads, one hand holding the book, the other lazily stroking and petting him.

when he loses control a little while in human form he purrs (usually around aziraphale and boy is that embarrassing) or hisses, gets incredibly sharp nails, fangs, etc. he always walks super quietly and aziraphale threatens to put a bell on him when one time he unintentionally sneaks up on him and makes him spill his cocoa.

just. ngk. crowley as a cat relaxing on aziraphale's lap and pressing his head into his hand just to spontaneously switch back and suddenly there's a demon demanding attention and gently nuzzling into his neck.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #things get awkward one time when crowley is sunbathing in his armchair and cleaning himself #and aziraphale walks in on him on his back #all twisted and fluffy black fur #with his teeth trying to scratch an itch on the back of his hindleg #y'know the little gnawing thing cats do when they clean themselves #and they just freeze and stare at each other #and crowley gets so nervous and stressed out he ends up throwing up a hairball onto the carpet and then disappears for two weeks

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

how dare they be so cute 🥺

#alex being all nervous and miles knowing just how to make him smile and bring him out of himself 😭 #and their hands being all over each other always #because where else would they be #ugh they're so tiny and fluffy and smiley #my heart can't cope 🥺 #milex #tlsp #the last shadow puppets #baby milex #milex gifs #alex turner #miles kane #my gifs #lulu posts

[shakapuffin]

Extended Alex and Scott H50 Chemistry Footage

via @peter lenkov on insta!

ahhh much better with scott, no one else could be steve and danny besides alex and scott!🫶🏻

even when they first met their vibe together is so cute and amazing!! luv o’caan!!

#hawaii five 0 #scott caan #danny williams #danno williams #scotty caan #alex o’loughlin #alexoloughlin #hawaii five o #scott and his fluffy hair #h50 #h50 bts #h50 bloopers #Youtube #ocaan #o'caan