#seal team season 1

[shitshowkb]

FINALLY started watching SEAL Team and because this is clearly my new favorite thing to do, I will be writing my reactions/emotions down as i go, so here we go:

✧ SEAL Team season 1 spoilers under the cut ✧

finally watching SEAL Team and decided to write my reactions/emotions down as i go:

• david boreanaz is so mf fine

• and max thieriot 😍

• clay spenser loml

• i literally can not stand ash spenser omg

• oh god his shoot isn't working

• oh shit, is he gonna die!?!?

• yep he's gonna die

• nooo not brian, why'd it have to be brian? 😭

• that smirk on clay's face during that SERE interrogation 🥵

• "actually i'm still kind of thirsty" this man i stg

• my boy made it through SERE

• not the boys sneaking off to get some spicy chicken

• hayes with his hat on backwards 🥵

• 8am and bring beer? these are my kind of people 😅

• this mans smile makes me WEAK

• i am CONFUSED

✧ lowkey got super into the show and forgot to write my reactions, but i'm on the episodes where the boys are in afghanistan on their deployment tryna figure out who put the hit on echo team & i'm stressed tf out, i think i have like 4 more episodes in season 1 ✧

• not these grown ass me throwing darts at each others feet

• oh shit, ray's frag killed a little boy

• this man needs to stop lying about his injured shoulder

• god clay is gorgeous, i will never get over it

• also brock??? that man is fine as hell

• "what are you not telling me?" babe his shoulder is FUCKED

• SPENSE IS SO MF FINE

• jesus that was stressful

• also jason hayes could ruin my life, i'd thank him & let me him come back & do it all over again

• man i feel so bad for ray bc that little boy died but also homie you lied about being okay before deployment???

• "i want to deliver him to you" idk man that sounds too easy, is this a trap???

• this feels like a trap

• lmao i am so in love with clay spenser

• oh shit

• all of this kidnapping shit for a talk???

• homie is not only going to show you where to find his brother but also tell you how to kill him???

• this shit has to be a trap

• still pissed that ray lied about his shoulder & now he's in there spilling the tea about his injury

• oh okay??? this man does not even care about ray's shoulder

• fr tho ray GO SEE A DAMN DOCTOR

• this journalist gets on my mf nerves

• i do not like the vibes i'm getting rn

• yeah no i don't like this

• oh god oh god oh god

• something bad is gonna happen, i can feel it

• OH GOD NO

• OF FUCKING COURSE THE EPISODE ENDS LIKE THAT

• so i obviously know that these guys survive because they're still on the show but COME ON this is so mf stressful

• oh god no

• holy shit

• this shit just keeps getting worse omg

• "I AM NOT EMOTIONAL!" sonny babe you really are

• sonny is stressed tf out, someone better buy him all the beers when they get home

• covered in dirt & bleeding and clay is still fine as hell

• oh god not again

• if jason hayes doesn't sit his stupid ass still omg

• what the actual fuck jason

• jason hayes needs his ass beat, i don't care if he has a head injury

• is that mans bone sticking out of his arm?? 🤢

• damn, i knew medders was dead :(

• oh god is shit gonna go down again

• can these boys please go back to the states like now??? thanks

• this mf and his concussion does not need to going out right now omg

• omfg get tf outta this damn mountain

• well fuck

• jase and the girls are about to fuck some shit up

• oh shit danny overdosed???

• jase is really planning to just kill cutter? lmfao

• i am so excited for the crew to go home

• clay's car 😍

• i feel so bad for davis :(

• stella stayed composed way longer than i would've, i'd have seen clay & lost my shit

• sonny needs a hug :(

• dear god, jase needs to go get his head checked

• someone please get this man some help

• OF COURSE THE SEASON ENDED WITH THAT

#seal team #seal team season 1 #jason hayes #clay spenser #ray perry #sonny quinn #lisa davis #mandy ellis #eric blackburn #brock reynolds #stella baxter #i'm in love with clay

[londiall]

SEAL Team S2 E1

Here’s the first watch of season 2 lol.

Enjoy the strange thoughts: 

S2 E1 - Fracture

So the thought of completely dark water scares the shit out of me. No me gusta.

Oh shit, Clay is 2. Hmmmm. Wonder how that’s gonna work out with the rest of the team.

Jason is NOT ok. 

Wait, who jumped over the guy on the ground? Jason? Looks like it could be. I wonder if David improved that lol. It looks pretty improved?

Are you kidding me? It’s a drill. Of course it’s a drill.

Oh shittttt, we’re back! (tbf, when you binge watch a show, you don’t ever really realize its been gone lol)

WTF is Jason doing with that Keurig? (or similar coffee maker lol)

Hnnnnnng. Y’all. I’ve had this soft spot for Max since circa 2004-2005 - Catch that Kid and The Pacifier era. And goddamn that soft spot has gotten worse. He’s totally on my celebrity list. Just saying.

And I’m just saying, Clay is possibly my favorite and lmao. “I lost, we can totally still have sex tonight.” What a man.

Oh Ray. I’m sorry your team leader benched your for the same fucking thing he’s doing. It’s not fair.

Jfc Sonny. Is that a strip club? Oh, yep. Davis just confirmed lol.

Lectures before breakfast. Agreed Sonny, none of those things. But also, OUCH. That wasn’t very fair. It’s not Clay’s fault that Jason benched Ray. Dammit Sonny.

Welp, that’s an awkward situation.

Saved by the spin up.

Wheels up in 2 hours. Hmm, lets see what’s gonna happen between now and then. Wait, aren’t they not married anymore tho? Ooof. Rough.

GET HIM RAY.  He’s doing the same thing you did. Fuck right off Jason.

LOL. “Don’t touch me”

So did Clay make number 2 because he’s the other sniper? I really need to look up how this numbering system works lol.

“A little loud down there?” Lmao.

Oh.Shit.Up is not the correct way, but I guess jumping works? WTF is this show lmao. COME UP OUT OF THE WATER CLAY SPENSER. Ah, there he is.

:D

Nah, I still don’t buy it that Jason is ok. Just sayin. Pretty sure I’m right.

“You’re operating again, so it’s not like you’re around anyway” Ouch Alana. Ouch. But fair.

“What I really want is for you not to die.” Oooof.

What a season premiere.

Be back with episode 2 later :)

All the love - A

#seal team #clay spenser #jason hayes #ray perry #sonny quinn #seal team bravo #season 2 episode 1 #Fracture #s2e15

[thenerdygirlexp]

#SEALTeam Low Impact S6Ep1 Season Premiere Preview via @stacyamiller85 @David_Boreanaz @NeilBrownJr @SEALTeam_pplus @SealTeamWriters

SEAL Team returns for Season 6 on September 18, 2022 exclusively on Paramount+. (more…)

View On WordPress

#Low Impact Season 6 Episode 1 #Seal Team Season 6 #Season Premiere

[leclsrc]

you know it ✴︎ cl16

genre: porn WITH plot (for once?! everyone cheered), humor, bit of fluff... oh inaccurate depictions of the 2022 season sorry

word count: 7k

Charles is a bit disappointed the pretty girl he harbors a crush on doesn’t have him listed as a Formula 1 crush. He is a lot disappointed that you two can’t fuck.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... degradation, praise, charles is a bit switchy here lol, penetrative sex, a bit of ass play sorry...., oral (m receiving), semi public sex, yeah

title from this. i love u guys im so sleepy

Joris insists there’s some big present waiting for Charles in his car, to celebrate the middle of the season that has, and will no doubt continue to stretch into a period of conflict and strategy woes. He yanks off the beanie sitting on his head, listens to small talk drifting between Joris and Carlos as they all walk toward their cars to alleviate the bubble of nerves in the low of his stomach. 

Sure enough, there’s an unassuming box lying on the driver’s seat. Joris slides into the passenger seat after Carlos drives away with his girlfriend, his grin shit-eating and mischievous. The door is half open when Charles takes the box to inspect it. White, with the Ferrari logo printed neatly on the centre (very classy touch), the sides are signed by different members of his team. He scratches through the seal and pulls the flap open.

He’s been given a quasi-official Ferrari box of condoms.

Thirty-six condoms, at that, small squares neatly lined up next to each other. Talk about a welcoming present. Not a camera, not racing memorabilia, not a new pair of shoes. Just condoms. Thirty-six of them.

“A mid-season pick-me-up,” presses his friend, giddily. The shorter male lounges comfortably on the seat, a blissful look of pride on his face. Laughing with exasperation, Charles wedges the box shut and tosses it carelessly into the backseat, preparing to drive. This isn’t his first rodeo with weird gifts—he’s half-sure he got adoption papers from an especially excited fan once before.

“You are such an asshole.”

“It’s also a congratulations on winning literally every race so far present,” Joris adds. It’s hyperbole but has a ring of truth to it. As the season closes, Charles’ chances of holding up the trophy this year increase. 

Despite himself, Charles has a better outlook on his chances for the remainder of the season, driving-wise. He’s given it his all so far, and the rest looks promising enough. He only hopes he’s right. Netflix also increased the amount of people getting into the sport, so he’s dealing with tons more fans and nosey DMs, but it’s not too much of an impediment to a hopefully stellar season.

Charles makes a right. “Do you plan to use them?” Joris asks then, a teasing tone taking on his voice as he scrolls through his phone.

“No, not really,” Charles says, lying straight through his teeth.

“You’re a fucking liar, you are.” He whips his head toward Charles, observing his stoic side profile. “You’re single, haven’t gotten laid in months—”

“—weeks.” Corrects Charles with a cough, the defense coming at an embarrassing speed.

“…Case in point. And sports gets everyone horny. And if you didn’t know, Mattia actually OK-ed the condoms, so you’ve basically been greenlit by your boss to fuck half the world. Thank me later. I’m proud of myself.”

“Sports gets everyone competitive. Because it’s sports. Which, you’re conveniently forgetting, is my life profession.”

“Loosen up,” Joris whistles lowly. “You think Lewis got seven titles by being a closed-off celibate? It’s practically tradition to fuck around if you’re single in sports. And, for others, being in a relationship is barely an obstacle, anyway.”

Charles hates to admit that Joris is right—because he is. Racing isn’t racing without the extravagant parties that follow, and the girls and guys brought back to hotels for reasons known to everyone. People from everywhere come to the paddock and the clubs—models, influencers, actors. The pent-up energy has to go somewhere, he supposes.

But even if the little shit is right, Charles still maintains a level of dignity. Ergo, he’s steadfast in his belief that he will not be sleeping around or putting this godforsaken box of condoms to any semblance of use while the rest of the season progresses. He just hopes he won’t eat his words.

—

Monza kicks off with a 1-2 and secures Charles with a comfortable lead ahead Max.

He is high on adrenaline all night, toasting and chugging to the win, snapping pictures with Carlos, proud out of his mind. It’s everything he’s wanted and more, a quench to the thirst he’d developed over the season, a slap in the face to his doubters, a kiss on his. He texts his family, friends who aren’t present, some other people who he feels are deserving of a personal announcement, and pockets his phone.

“Now would be a great time to put that gift to use,” Carlos says at some point, when everyone in the garage is kicking back alcohol and slowly preparing to move the celebrations someplace else.

Charles cringes visibly, having almost forgotten about the dreaded gift, and totally forgotten Carlos’ knowledge of it. Even with the recent win, he’s already thinking of the next, the promise of a two-peat, another podium, hell, another 1-2. The condoms were honest to God the last thing on his mind.

They break apart an hour later, when Charles is heading to the hotel and Carlos is headed somewhere else. He’s almost to the exit when someone calls his attention in a curt English voice.He turns and finds Lewis jogging toward him, outside of his race suit and back in the fashionable apparel Charles merely wishes he could pull off.

“Lewis,” he waves, pacing toward him to save the extra few seconds of waiting. 

“Amazing, amazing race, man,” the elder compliments. “You’ve got the best chance at the title here.”

Warmth melts into Charles’ body and he offers praise back, which—praising Lewis is just about the easiest thing in the world. Nerves bleed out of him as the conversation continues, the atmosphere of a finished race a welcome accompaniment to their strategic talk. 

“Headed to a party, yeah?” Lewis asks when they’ve both exhausted the topic. Charles gives a half-hearted shrug, already energized enough from such a momentous win, and he nods in response. “Nah, I get it. Sometimes you just gotta sleep. But hey, if you’re ever free, we should go get dinner sometime.”

—

The “dinner sometime” happens in Singapore. Having gotten P1 beside Lewis and therefore once again high off the adrenaline, Charles claps Andrea on the back and retrieves his phone to view two texts. One reads Put the condoms to use yet, champ? from Joris, and the other Can I take you up on the dinner? from Lewis. One goes answered and the other goes muted on his iMessage.

A little something he failed to remember was Lewis’ plant-based diet, a fact that hurtles back toward him when he can’t find steak on the menu of this classy, hole-in-the-wall type of restaurant. Of course Lewis would know these types of places, he thinks. He’s a millennial semi-hipster with a separate Instagram account for his dog.

Charles ends up ordering pasta, and Lewis beside him orders a cacophony of very vegan, hippy sounding meals, the quantity of which could feed the two of them. “I hope you don’t mind,” Lewis says when the waiter departs, “but a friend is actually joining us tonight.”

“Sure,” Charles says honestly. As long as it’s not some deranged hyperfan, he does well in social situations. Right then, Lewis calls someone over. Charles looks up, squints through the dim mood lighting to try and make out the nearing figure. And then you’re sitting down across them, smiling softly, exchanging hellos with Lewis.

A little something Lewis fails to remember is his “friends” can just as well be called “celebrities,” because he is, after all, a sporting legend. So if Lewis says “friend,” Charles will assume it’s a “friend,” and not a world-famous model whose face is plastered everywhere on and offline.

“Charles Leclerc,” he says blankly.

You introduce yourself, sliding easily into a bout of questions, apologies for missing the race, you’re impossibly jetlagged, it’s crazy. Lewis chips in with something about how he’s already ordered food for the both of you, and this and that, and Charles is hopeless, staring at your face the entire time. He hopes he looks more sexy than aloof or, worse, starstruck, because it’s turning out to be the kind of situation where he looks like the deranged hyperfan, and not the other way around for once.

To be clear, Charles isn’t a fan of you. He just knows of you, because honestly, who doesn’t at this point? You’re talking on and on about how your latest shoot with Jacquemus was a pain because you shot in a tank top in sub-zero weather, but you express it like it’s the most profound topic on Earth.

Lewis turns to him and, in an (eventually successful) effort to include more of Charles in the conversation, goes, “She’s a big Formula One fan, Charles.”

Okay. Common ground. Charles lifts both brows smugly, his eyes flickering back over to you. “Really?”

You meet his eyes and smile, looking downward and blinking owlishly. You’re so pretty, long lashes fluttering as you blink and try to find an answer. Christ, you’re so painfully his type.

Lewis chimes in again—“Really. And not just because she and I are friends. I mean she was into racing before we got acquainted. Honestly. Quiz her and everything”—then excuses himself to “take a call.” (His phone wasn’t even ringing—total bullshit—but Charles is ultimately grateful for it.)

You make a face of shut up toward the departing Lewis, and Charles exhales a quiet laugh at your defiance. You clear your throat and come up with an answer.

“I’m not a big fan,” you say. “I’m more of a casual, ‘every once in a while’ type of fan.”

“That’s what every big fan of sports says,” Charles says smoothly. 

“Is it?” You ask, cocking your head to the side, making a tch noise. You chuckle before going, “Well, if you insist, I’ll be honest. I didn’t want it to come to this, but okay. I am a fan… of Red Bull.”

Charles fakes extreme offense, his jaw dropping as if totally scandalized. You laugh, throwing two hands up in faux surrender. “Not Red Bull,” he says, his tone making him sound even more devastated. “You’re telling me you—don’t tell me you think Max Verstappen is attractive.”

“I mean, a bit!”

Charles makes sarcastic sounds of disapproval, and you laugh. Charles leans forward, and you do, too, both of you smiling. “So you’re into the angry drivers?”

“I’m not into a specific kind of driver,” you say casually, your tongue peeking out to lick over your bottom lip. Your voice is as soft as it is firm, slow and demure, matching the way your eyes glint. You’re impossibly pretty. He almost can’t handle it.

“So who’s making the cut?” He prompts, interested.

“Well, for starters, drivers who are my age,” you say slowly. “I turned twenty-four this year, so anyone within that bracket.”

“Oh?” Charles pretends to delve into deep thought, teasing. “Maybe Stroll? He’s very funny, speaks good English. You can never really say no to a Canadian.”

Your face warms, and you hope your flustered state isn’t too obvious as you shake your head. “He seems fun, but I prefer somebody a bit… a bit older.”

“Older…” he hums. “Pierre, perhaps? Tad bit older, real charming, great driver. I can introduce you. We’re good friends, you know.”

You click your tongue, smiling shyly. You bite your lip and it takes everything in Charles to not turn on his horny gears when he sees you, big eyes and lip bite, look so pretty. “You tease me,” you say meekly. Charles covers a cough with a chuckle and adjusts his position on the seat.

Later, after Lewis comes back in (“Long call, eh? It was about Roscoe.” Bullshit again) and you all get to order drinks, and you’ve departed in your private car, pressing an air kiss to Lewis and waving goodbye to Charles, he turns to the Mercedes driver and hums.

“Next time you have one of these”—he points to the restaurant, gestures to the front door—“dinners, let me know, okay?”

“Ah.” Lewis winks, smirking. “I’ll be sure to.”

—

Understandably, your schedules never seem to mesh well together. Lewis ends up giving Charles your number as compensation.

He stares at the contact longer than he’d like to admit, when he’s marinating in the sweltering heat of Austin. He’s finished much of his work for this half of the day so he’s mostly watching the engineers work on the last bits of modification for Sunday; he cherishest the free time and drafts, reads, and rereads texts, scours Google and Instagram for pictures of, and anything related to, you.

There’s a few new articles about buying a new car (a Benz, much to Charles’ chagrin) and new photoshoots intermittently scattered across Europe, with all sorts of brands. He sees a picture you’ve posted of yourself smiling at the camera and thinks of how pretty it would look as his lockscreen. 

Am I seeing you soon? He texts finally. He hopes it’s enough to let you know who he is.

Hopefully is the reply. He smiles the whole day.

—

You’ve been texting and calling almost everyday, conversations stretching continents. He only sees you next in Mexico, Friday night, at a club Lewis has rented out for a crazy price that will no doubt be replenished in days anyway. He’s dropped to second here, but the thrill riding in him makes up for his disappointment. The place is so crowded—everyone and their mums seem to have been invited here—room blinking purple and blue, each step vibrating with the heavy bass of EDM. He catches you right as you exit the washroom area, and you look pleasantly surprised to see him.

He saw you earlier, when you were doing shots of tequila and chatting with with Bella and Lewis, but just as quickly as he spotted you, you’d dipped back into the sea of people. Now is better, he thinks. You two are alone.

“Charles, hi,” you say casually. You’re wearing a tight top and a short skirt that, despite Charles’ best efforts, always cast his gaze downward. He wonders what’s underneath, hungers to get his hands there. But he’s nothing if he’s not patient, willing to play the long game.

He takes a step forward, his gaze steady on you. Charles isn’t the tallest driver, but he’s got a big presence. You swallow, taking a step back to accommodate him. He smirks. “You look pretty.” 

“You flatter me,” you say thickly, smiling, inviting him closer. The air is hot around the both of you—when your eyes flit around, they see nobody. You’re alone together. His eyes pierce into yours so deep you feel like breaking eye contact, exhaling as you take another step back—evidently, you’re distracted, because you stumble.

His arm circles around your waist, and once you steady, the hand moves down to your hip. It stays, a reminder of what you might be getting soon. You smile curtly, wondering what this might look like to a bystander, a stranger. Somebody might want to piss and walk in to see the strongest world champion contender’s hand on Chanel’s poster girl’s waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly against your ear.

“More than.” You say, breath shaky. “It’s more than okay.”

He chuckles. “Good. I’d hate if we couldn’t fuck before Abu Dhabi.”

Your finger traces down and wraps around the belt loop of his jeans. “Who said anything about fucking?”

Charles exhales a laugh, his lips curling upward into an amused smile. “Ah? I can’t fuck you, then?”

“I’ll let you fuck me when you’re holding up the world champion trophy,” you say sweetly, tugging him closer. “That’s okay, right?” You stare up at him, blinking, pouty. He wonders, is this how you might look with your lips wrapped around his—

“That’s about a month away.” His composure barely wavers, his hand traveling lower, blunt nails digging into your ass. Your breath hitches. 

“I’m aware,” you say lowly. So be it, Charles thinks—he’s got thirty-six condoms for a reason.

“Define fuck,” he says, voice rough.

“Penetration.” You’re quick with it, cocking your head to the side. You lean back confidently, testin him, eyes batting flirtatiously. 

It’s time he get a little creative.

—

Daytime weather is hot and the paddock is swarming with people, but Charles has his sights set on somebody sitting in the Mercedes hospitality. He manages to get out of morning meetings earlier, wedging himself out of the room and passing by a mirror to fix his hair with admirable concentration. He’s in the middle of combing through it when a force tugs at the hem of his polo, causing him to stumble backwards.

“Uh—Carlos? What the hell?” He asks, brow raised defensively. Facing him are Carlos, Joris, and Pierre, arms crossed over their torsos and amused expressions on their faces.

“What are you doing?” Asks Pierre, cocking his head to the side.

“Fixing my hair.” 

“Pussy appointment?” Joris interjects; the vulgarity of his statement earns him a poke on the side from Carlos, who clicks his tongue.

“Wh—I don’t—”

“You are shit at lying, mate,” says Pierre, his lips curled into a devious smile. “Who is it?”

“It’s nobody,” he lies.

“Charles,” says Lewis suddenly from behind them, waving his arms to get the former’s attention, “are you going to go over and say hi?”

Hook, line, and sinker. He’s been caught. “Well, well, well,” Carlos starts, mischievous.

“Guys—” Charles says, attempting to make an excuse.

“Looks like your vow of celibacy isn’t so far off after all,” Pierre adds. “That one over at Mercedes is going to break it, eh?”

“Yeah.” Joris says, smirking.  “Lucky George, huh.”

The three face him, incredulous. “I was kidding,” he fibs, once he realizes his epiphany is wrong. “Kidding.”

Charles walks off, and ends up seeing you right where he expected you, sitting beside Lewis in a tiny dress with your hair pinned up into a bun. Almost naturally, your words fall into the flirtatious back-and-forth you’d started at the dinner, hyperaware of the cameras snapping your pictures. At some point, the Brit excuses himself to “take a call” (again, bullshit) and leaves the two of you alone.

“See anything nice on the paddock?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” you say with a teasing smile, head cocking to the side to gauge his reaction. He chuckles.

“Did you get a picture with Max?”

“Only a ton.” You pause. “And Daniel, too.”

“Ah, you’re just crushing on the whole paddock, now are you?” He pokes his tongue into his cheek, leans forward.” Uh, Checo?”

“Pass,” you say with a nose scrunch. You’re so fucking pretty.

“Lewis.”

“God, pass. He’s not ugly, but he’s my brother at this point.”

“Pierre.”

“Horribly French, but… smash.”

“Are you not into the French?” He smiles. “Good to know. Hmm—Carlos.”

“I’d be stupid to say anything other than smash.” You narrow your eyes, licking over your lips. “I’m into the Ferrari guys, is the thing.” His gaze travels to your crossed legs, long and disappearing into the hem of your dress.

He smirks. “Are you?”

“I really am,” you hum.

“Are you staying long? All weekend?”

“Yeah, I’m free from work for now,” you say casually. “Any recommendations on what fun things I can do here?”

“I can think of…” he says, smirking a little. “A few.”

—

Stupid places to have sex, number one: a motorhome.

Still, Charles is crowding you up against the wall of the room, swallowing the whimper that leaves your mouth with his own. And still, this isn’t sex. At least not the kind he wants the most. He mentally praises Carlos for being able to decipher the typo-laden text he’d sent out on the way here, one hand around your waist, the other barely capable of typing with how fast his brain ran. Clesr the fuckng room npw now npw it read. Thank God.

Your mouth tastes like champagne, and everywhere else smells divine. Your hands roam impatiently over his shoulders and you make muted noises of frustration at your inability to pull his shirt off. You settle for letting your hands crawl underneath it, stroking over his abs.

“D’you remember what I told you,” you pant, his lips insistent on your neck, “at the club?”

“Yeah,” he says, grunting at the memory.

“Okay.” You breathe. “Let me suck you off.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “Jesus. Okay. Fuck.”

You giggle, and he watches intently as you drop onto your knees, looking up at him through thick lashes. You’re insistent, pulling the zip of his jeans down and tugging his cock out. It’s pretty, thick like the rest of him, already hard. 

He’s at his limit, having you here like this, on you knees and stretching your lips around the tip of his dick. Your eyes barely leave his, fluttering as they tear up when you take him in your throat.

He throws his head back, squeezes his eyes shut, lets a hand unpin your bun and thread itself into the untangled hair. If he looks at you, he’ll see your head bobbing up and down on his cock, and he genuinely needs to hold off the orgasm first.

He rocks forward into your mouth and feels your throat close up around him. That’s enough to weaken his resolve, send grunts out of his throat that he can’t keep quiet.

“Oh, shit,” he says, feeling every part of your mouth and throat around him, warm and tense. He can’t help but thrust harder, steady but not too rough, growing more aroused with every sound of you choking on him.

His gaze flickers toward you. You’re teary-eyed, lips dotted with spit, choking yourself on his cock. Just for him, here in public. You pull off, blinking tears away from your face and looking up at him smilingly.

He laughs, guiding his cock back into your mouth, watching the way your brows knit together, pleading, almost. You're at his mercy, he thinks, thrusting harder, listening to your coughs. He loves seeing you like this, innocent face messy and slick with spit and precum, eyes big and needy.

“You like that?” He grunts. “Look at me.”

You nod the best you can. Yes, you want to say. Give me more, I love it.

“Yeaaah, fuck. I know you do,” he says through his teeth, staving off his orgasm the best he can before he releases all over you. The image alone of streaking you with his cum, claiming you all over-eyelashes, tits, cheeks splashed with cum-is enough to send him closer to the edge. “Gonna cum,” he grunts.

You moan around him, the vibrations causing his eyelids to flutter. You shake your head, pulling off and wrapping your hand around his dick, stroking slower. “Not yet,” you say sweetly, watching him throw his head back in pleasure and frustration. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, exhales shakily.

“Shit.” He whines. “Come on, baby. Make me cum.” He cups your jaw, stares down at you.

You stroke him faster, lip between your teeth. “Okay,” you say with a smile. “Cum for me, Charles.”

He stops staving himself off, falls into the pleasure and relief of your hand around his cock until he’s tense all over, knitting his hand into your hair and pushing you backwards so he can press his tip on the flat expanse of your tongue and let his cum shoot there. It drips from your tongue and lips onto your chin and you giggle, swallowing it, scooping up the rest to push into your mouth.

You stand, licking your lips slowly. “I owe you,” he pants, zipping himself up. Already he’s thinking about what he can do to you in return. Tease you, like you did him, bend you over his lap or sit you on it and make you whine and writhe and wait and cum. 

“I’ll hold you to that, champion,” you murmur, kissing his cheek and slipping back outside.

—

Ferrari’s advice is shit and despite his good mood and quick-witted driving, Charles finishes in fifth—not too shabby, but disastrous for his overall standings.

He suffers through a horrible debrief where attempts to defend his honor go unheard, his mood wilting and wilting until he’s at the media pen and ushered in front of some network he hasn’t heard of. They’ve probably paid to get a good seat here.

He’s in a shit mood, he hasn’t seen Joris or Pierre or you in hours, and has only faced red-faced frustrated superiors and now, wide-eyed journalists with loose mouths. The media’s done the mandatory speculation between the two of you, so he already expects questions of that variety, but it’s still hot and angry when he does.

Are you banging the Marc Jacobs model? The Irish reporter asks with a wink, so very unprofessional and not at all belonging to reputable media. The hot leggy one who has fuck me eyes?

Charles clenches his jaw, rolls his eyes, says fuck off mate and shoves him backward a little, then walks away and readjusts his cap. The clip makes Twitter and he feels even worse with the amount of troll accounts telling him to Jeez, take a joke.

After the ordeal, in your hotel room, you sigh softly and run your hands through his still shampoo-smelling hair. “You didn’t need to do that,” you say, a bit strictly. He knows you’re grateful, though, and a bit proud.

“I wanted to,” he insists softly. He forgets to leave before morning; when he does, he forgets his official Ferrari shirt hanging on the seat, leaving in a spare one instead. It’s got his number across the back. You don’t tell him.

—

In between Mexico and Sao Paulo, he manages to catch a flight to New York to peek into one of your photoshoots. It’s for Chanel and he’s half-sure he’s taken more pictures of you than the official photographer did. At this point your vague relationship status has caught onto headlines everywhere, and he doesn’t miss the curious murmurs from paparazzo that follow him as he enters your apartment later to greet you.

You’re in a pair of shorts and a tank top when you open the door, greeting him with a tight hug and leading him inside with a loose grip.

“Wine?”

“Please.” He eyes the wide area, the big floor-to-ceiling windows and the art on the walls. “Hungry?”

“Mmm.” You hum, sliding a glass toward him. “Starving.”

“Pizza?”

“Something else.” You smile. He tears his eyes away from your tits, poking out of the thin cotton, and coughs.

The both of you end up on the couch, your legs draped over his as you talk about racing.

He’s ranting about how he’s neck to neck with Max now, and the final verdict will likely be decided at Abu Dhabi, a fact that sends nerves all through him. You’re listening, you really are, but it’s difficult to keep listening because his hand, big and rough, is stroking your bare calf as he talks absentmindedly. 

You offer the occasional mmm-hmm and uh-huh and even the oh really to sell it, but he doesn’t seem to be conscious of how many sparks are coursing through you because of his hand on your leg. He just talks and talks, accent curving into curse words elicited by the competition.

And his voice, rough and deeper when he slides into Italian phrases, gets in your head, reminds you of the way he’d moaned when you had his dick in your mouth. You like that? he’d said, panting, heavy, hot. His hand remained in your hair, controlling you the same way you did him. Fuck.

When you blink, he’s stopped talking, and has likely noticed your wandering imagination if his teasing smile is anything to go by. You cough, clear your throat, adjust your thighs. You’re thinking—you can’t stop thinking—about what happened in Mexico, not just in the motorhome but in the club where he’d let his hand sprawl over your ass and stay there, possessive.

The tension rises. I owe you. He really does. You reach over and grab your phone from the coffee table, snap a few pictures of him. “—Hey!” He protests, scrabbling to grab it from you while balancing his half-full glass. “I look god awful.”

You stand up, review the picture. He looks so impossibly handsome. “You’re right, you do,” you say, pouting. 

He reaches over again, chuckling, and you avoid him. “Foul play!”

“Tch. At least show it to me,” he says defeatedly, so you do: presenting your screen to him.

Quickly, he makes a grab for it, but you just escape his grip, ending up right in front of him and leaning over. You’re losing your balance, digging your toes into your carpet to maintain stance. He spares a glance at your shorts, riding low on your hips, showing a bit of thin lace.

Charles tugs you forward by the hem of your top and then takes your wrist into his grip—the force of his grab makes your tits shake underneath your flimsy tank top. It’s dragged down so far your tits are spilling out. His eyes flicker down to them, dark, and a pretty smile spreads across his face.

“Come on, give it,” he challenges, eyes narrowing a little. You bite your lip, inwardly liking this a little too much—being at his mercy, trapped in his strong grip. You’re flustered and it shows.

He wrestles you onto his lap with ease, his arms steady around you. You stare downwards, dark eyes meeting his, hand on his broad shoulder for leverage. He’s so pretty, you think, so hot and handsome and you need him right now. Through his jeans you can feel how thick he is, his dick growing, getting hard and huge under you. It feels big even through a few layers—you can’t help but imagine how it might feel inside you.

Your phone clatters to the carpet behind the couch. “I win,” you say breathlessly.

He grabs your hips and jerks his upward, letting his stiff dick press up even more against your shorts.

“I think I’m the winner here,” he says gruffly, hands feeling you up all over. He thumbs at your chest, rubbing over your tits. You shiver—it feels good having him on you like this, your mind turning to mush.

“Shut up,” you laugh, shakily. A hand wanders in between your thighs, another coming to squeeze your barely-covered ass. You can’t focus on much, just his hands roaming everywhere and his hard dick pressing against your core. He shoves your hips downward again, his cock hard and perfectly against your pussy.

“You feel that?” He asks; it leaves him in one low breath.  

“Yeah,” you say, whimpering. “I want it.”

He grinds up against you again, his thumb teasing the hem of your shorts. Closer to where you want it. “Don’t think you could even take it, baby.”

“I hate you,” you say. “You know I can.”

He laughs. “We’ll see, yeah?” You find a rhythm of grinding down against his cock, nestled right against your ass. He’s everywhere and you can’t handle it anymore, finding yourself craving him more and more.

You moan against his neck—and then come to your senses. “No.”

He smirks when you pull away. “Tempted, were you?”

“Not…” You pause. You’re sweaty, flushed all over, and your panties are sticking to you from how wet you’ve grown. “Not very.”

—

Abu Dhabi is a son of a bitch.

It comes with meetings, meetings, debriefs, calls, meetings. Everything is riding on the night’s race, the flurry of social media a welcome source of anxiety for him as he watches the hours whiz by. You’d missed seeing him, understood he was busy; you send a selfie to compensate and it gets him calm enough to last the pre-race buzz.

Time speeds by with lunch, coaching, drills, talks with Carlos and Mattia and even Max, who displays support as strongly as competitiveness. Before he even realizes it, he blinks and he’s in his suit, adjusting his balaclava, inhaling, exhaling. Everything is just the way he likes—needs—it to be.

He drives himself to P2 behind Max, eyes shut.

All else seeps into him, natural method, natural routine. He flexes his thumbs. Through the team radio his engineer goes good luck, and Charles’ practice bleeds into his subconscious. The air is heavy, with tension and excitement, the division of blue and red. Everyone’s eager to see who claims the title. 

The lights go off and everything is left to skill, blurring into noise and turns and expletives yelled into the team radio. He can’t even feel himself think, turning with dexterity and overtaking with the kind of vengeance he hasn’t let out in a while. 

For all his trying, Max keeps up just the same, keeping a neck and neck level for the relative entirety of the race. They’re milking out the last few laps together, and Charles feels every fibre of his being work toward this, just this, nothing but this right now. Nothing but the finish line.

You got this, Charles, says the engineer, voice heightening. Maiden world championship.

He nods to himself, trusts his instincts and when he catches sight of the finish line, he thinks: he’s the best driver on the grid.

So he revs faster, and the rest descends into—

Absolute fucking chaos.

—

He’s smiling when he approaches the reporter, who’s already holding the mic with wonder. He asks for a message in Italian, then reminds him—and the crowd—that, in case he forgot, he’s world champion. Charles thinks he genuinely can’t ever.

“What are you doing to celebrate?” He asks then, smiling.

Sweaty, with damp hair and shiny skin, he smirks and leans closer. “Someone, I hope.”

—

“Hey there, champ.”

You’re already leaning against his hotel room door when he gets there, after the chore of wrestling himself free from the rest of the team pressuring him to get drinks. Carlos helps out, babbles something or other about Charles being “busy with something else”—which isn't wrong, not at all. He offers a smooth wink, bending down to kiss you.

Your mouths meet, softly first then increasingly messy as he pins you against the door. You push away, breathing heavy. “I don’t know what you’re into, but I don't want the top floor of this hotel seeing us fucking.”

“I wasn’t into that, but now that you brought it up…” You swat his arm and he laughs, unlocking the door and pulling you inside. You’re clinging onto him—his arms, his chest, anything, kissing up his neck and jaw. He groans at how needy you are. All for him, he thinks. Probably soaked through your panties and it’s all because of him.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says gently, voice low as he leads you to the bed. He catches sight of your shirt and a brow raises. “Did you buy that?”

“Hmm?” You look down, following his gaze and blinking. The shirt you’re wearing is loose, hanging off your shoulders and hastily tucked into your miniskirt so it looks like you actually have trousers on. “Oh. No, this is yours.”

“Mine.” He smiles a little. “You look so good in it, princess.” His hands mindlessly grope at you, hungry, sneaking underneath your skirt to feel at the lace there. 

In retaliation, you lean forward, unbutton his jeans and tug at it.

“You left it at one of my”—you gasp, feeling his finger sneak its way beneath your panties—“my hotel rooms.”

“Pretty girl, pretty shirt, pretty lace, yeah?” He tugs, lets the garter of the skirt loosen and fall off your hips on its own. “Red.”

“You take too long,” you groan.

“You’re just eager,” he laughs, thumbing at your clothed cunt.

You’re so wet, evident even in the lazy circles he rubs over your entrance. You’re aching, desperate, begging almost. So he gives you what you want, maneuvers you onto his lap and pushes your (his) shirt up to stuff your mouth with it.

It won’t work for long, but it’s enough. He pushes your panties to the side and pulls his hard dick out. You’re sitting against it now, leaking slick onto it, at his mercy, branding his name and his number across your back. It’s hot. 

He stares at the way you rock softly against him, hungry eyes meeting yours. “You’re so pretty, baby. Ruined.”

“Fuck me already,” you say, voice throaty, innocent.

“Can you take it?” He asks, teasing you, slapping his dick against your clit softly. You whine.

“Please,” you insist. “I want it. Make it fit.”

He’s a massive tease with it, his breath fanning against your skin, hands sticky on where they’ve hiked your shirt up. He lowers you, slower, against the tip of his dick and he watches your eyes flutter when you sink onto it. After ages of waiting. Your grip’s like iron on his shoulders, moans leaving you in quiet bursts of pleasure. 

You’re far away, dumb from the feeling, you barely register the way he shoves the shirt back into your mouth to keep you quiet. “So fucking tight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. It’s muffled, barely intelligible. “For you.”

You’re only able to take it because you’re so wet, so turned on, face and brain filled with nothing but pleasure. He can’t take it.

“Mmmfh,” you say, muffled by the bite of cotton in your mouth. You’re sweaty, flushed, overstimulated—you don’t know where to focus. On his lips against your jaw, his hand on your neck, the way your pussy swallows his aching dick. “It’s so big, I—”

“You okay?” He asks, breathily. Smiling. He’s in control, but still he sounds whiny—almost, if not as desperate as you. “You’ll take it all for me, won’t you?” 

“Oh god,” is all you muster, letting him stretch you out even more, gushing all over his cock. “I, I—”

He moans, his grip tight against your waist, watching his dick bury itself in you. “You’re getting me so full,” you whine. “So deep, I feel it—” you taper off into a moan again when he presses hs thumb to your clit, distracting you from the stretch as he finally, finally bottoms out.

“Good?”

You nod. So good, give me more.

You grind against him, let the shirt fall out of your mouth. “You’re getting my dick so wet,” he comments, breathless. “So pretty for me, too.”

Growing antsy, he attempts to move, but you whine. Your turn to tease, you think, after he was a dick to you just now. “Not yet,” you say, lip caught between your teeth. His hands are tight around your waist. Desperate.

You squeeze around him, watch his brows knit together, a grunt leave him in a frustrated exhale. “You wanna fuck me?” You tease against his neck, blinking innocently.

“Yes,” he replies, not missing a beat. You pout, like you’re empathizing with the problem you’re causing; you grind slowly against him and he lets out a guttural fuuuuck. He’s so big, so hard—you can feel every inch of him inside you.

“Tell me again, Charles,” you say with a giggle. You’re so hot like this, face flushed and timid, hips moving slowly. He could cum just from the way you bite your lip, the way a whimper slips out of you when he hits the right spot.

“—Yeah,” he says, sweetly. “I want to—please, let me fuck you. C’mon, baby, can I?”

“Aww,” you tease. 

“Can I?” He asks again, voice deep and thin with the need to fuck you, thrust up into you and make you the dumb one. His face is flushed and desperate. “Can I move, baby? Let me, please.”

You’re not stupid. You know—if his flushed, pleading face and big green puppy eyes are anything to go by—that he’s going crazy, growing antsy. But you’re not complaining.

“Hmm,” you say, feigning genuine thought. “I don’t know, Charles. Feels good just like this. And you want to make me feel good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Yeah.” You repeat, staring into his dark eyes. He’s frustrated, desperate, flushed all over and sweaty. His fingers dig into your hips. “I’ll make you feel really good, baby, if you let me.”

“Go ahead,” you say softly, “fuck me, please.” And he’s thrusting upwards to meet you halfway. It’s knocking you out, almost, the pleasure of it, the dizzy onslaught of euphoria. He’s stretching you out so well, whining softly into your neck and yeah, you two have waited far too long to have this. You 

“Fuck,” he grunts, lids squeezed shut and head rolled onto your shoulder. “Go on, baby, ride it, make me cum.” He cups your jaw, reaches his thumb into your mouth. It’s too much, all of it. He makes you suck on it while thrusting up, dizzying you with his cock.

He grabs handfuls of your ass, teases his thumb at your tighter asshole just to watch your eyes flutter, feel your cunt grow wetter. “I’ll fuck you even fuller next time,” he says; the implication gets you hot.

You bounce harder, chasing release as his thumb teases over your ass, the tip of it just thrusting in enough to elicit strings of moans out of you. “Come on, ride me,” he goads. “So good for me.”

“Fuck,” you pant, “cum in me, please.”

You cum first, writhing around him and riding your orgasm out in lazy grinds over his hard cock. You want to see him cum, see his eyebrows knit and his mouth release pretty whines, feel him claim you inside, hands hot and heavy on your ass. He does, with a guttural fuuuuck, shoving his dick up in you to the base and spurting all his cum in you.

He thrusts, watches his cum leak out of you, fucks it back in, in a vicious cycle. You shiver, blinking coquettishly and watching along—and then you’re both crumpling over each other on the bed behind you. You pant heavily against his chest.

“Hey.” He muses out loud, drumming against your skin.

“Yeah?”

“I have thirty-six condoms we need to go through. Wanna go on a date?”

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

[beauspot]

Good Omens Is a Big Deal

With everything going on I haven’t acknowledged how grateful I am for what Neil (and John) did this season. I always saw Good Omens as a romantic story and everyone involved seemed to be super supportive of that. To actually see a follow through on those themes was wonderful though. To see Aziraphale continue to look at Crowley like he’s the earth, the moon, and the stars. To see Crowley continue to save his angel not because he needs them to, but because they love him.

To see them have their dinners, and give the other access to their prized possessions. To see them dance. They love each other. They are in love with each other and it’s not implied or a throwaway line that can be edited out.

It’s the beating heart at the center of the story.

And they weren’t meant to be. Neil himself will tell you when he and Terry wrote the book Aziraphale and Crowley were meant to be friends and that’s it. Over time their relationship evolved and where a lot of writers would simply ignore that and keep pushing forward Neil pivoted and said “you know what? let’s see where this goes.” The last time I can remember something like this happening was with Hannibal years ago, it’s so rare with queer pairings.

I know everyone was excited about the kiss and it is refreshing to see queer people actually get to kiss, it’s still not something that happens all the time, but that’s not what made them canonically queer to me. If they remained completely asexual and never kissed or showed interest in kissing one another I’d feel the same. While I always felt they were queer what sealed it for me were 3 things:

1. Nina and Maggie, a romantic pairing that parallel our angel and demon break down to Crowley how she and Aziraphale are partners (and it’s clear they don’t mean business partners, does Crowley look like he runs a bookshop?) but they never say what they’re really thinking. They go on to state how that’s all they needed, the obvious implication here being that Nina and Maggie shared their romantic feelings with one another and that Crowley and Aziraphale need to do the same. Upon hearing this Crowley takes that as a sign to confess his feelings.

2. Gabriel and Beelzebub, another pairing that parallels Crowley and Aziraphale who are also clearly in love with one another is something Crowley references while he is confessing his feelings. “If those two lovestruck idiots can go off together, so can we. Because I love you.”

3. Crowley and Aziraphale express plainly to each other that they need the other. Crowley says to Aziraphale he wants to stop pretending they aren’t a team, a group, a them.

Aziraphale says verbatim “We can be together.” and “I need you.” He doesn’t say “We can work together” or “I need you to help me” or some other cop out that a lot of other shows or movies might come up with to continue to bait their fans, while having plausible deniability.

They love each other and it’s not platonic.

To me, the kiss serves as a way to seal the deal for people who only understand queer love when it’s punching them in the face. That’s not to say queer people can’t like the kiss, it’s one of my favorite scenes in the show simply because of how heartbreaking it is, but they were a couple to me long before that. And to add onto that by making every other important pairing in the show queer as well? Nina and Maggie being happy sapphics who don’t die at the end. They’re not together, but the implication is that one day they will be. Two non-binary beings—Gabriel and Beelzebub—falling in love and choosing to be with one another forever. The angels and demons are all genderless and no one misgenders them and no one gives a FUCK.

That means so much to me and I genuinely cannot express how thankful I am that this show and this season were made. The only thing I can say is thank you for standing for something, because not everyone does.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #aziraphale #a z fell #crowley #anthony j crowley #nina good omens #maggie good omens #archangel gabriel #beelzebub #demon shax #muriel good omens #aziracrow #nina x maggie #ineffable bureaucracy #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #michael sheen #david tennant #neil gaiman #john finnemore #douglas mackinnon

[emotionaldamages]

surprise- charles leclerc

summary- Y/N's adventure surprising Charles Leclerc at a Grand Prix.

authors note- been gone for along time but I’ll be trying to post more, send requests please!

Y/N had been counting down the days until the off-season of Formula 1, eagerly awaiting the opportunity to see her beloved Charles. Despite the distance, their love remained strong, and Y/N wanted to show Charles just how much he meant to her.

With the help of Charles' team, Y/N hatched a plan to surprise him at a Grand Prix. It was a secret mission that required utmost secrecy and coordination. Y/N traveled to the country where the race was taking place, heart pounding with excitement and nerves.

On the day of the race, Y/N found herself in the bustling atmosphere of the Grand Prix. The sounds of roaring engines and the smell of burning rubber filled the air. Y/N had butterflies in her stomach, knowing that Charles had no idea she was there.

As the race started, Y/N anxiously waited for the perfect moment to reveal herself. The team had arranged for her to be in a VIP area, giving her a prime view of the action. Y/N couldn't help but cheer for Charles as he zoomed past, showcasing his incredible talent on the track.

Finally, the race came to an end, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Y/N knew it was time to make her move. With a racing heart, she made her way towards the pit area, where Charles and the team were celebrating their successful race.

Just as Charles was about to step off the podium, Y/N appeared before him, a smile beaming across her face. Charles' eyes widened in surprise, his expression a mix of shock and pure joy. Without a second thought, he pulled Y/N into a tight embrace, holding her as if he never wanted to let go.

The team members cheered and clapped, thrilled to witness such a heartwarming reunion. The love between Y/N and Charles was palpable, and everyone around them couldn't help but feel the warmth and happiness radiating from their embrace.

As the cheers subsided, Charles leaned in and gently pressed his lips against Y/N's, sealing their reunion with a passionate kiss. In that moment, time stood still, and the world around them faded away. It was a kiss filled with love, longing, and the promise of a future together.

From that day forward, Y/N and Charles continued to conquer the challenges of a long-distance relationship, knowing that their love was stronger than any distance. They cherished every moment they had

#f1 one shot #formula one imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1

[ceilidho]

Can you give us a summary of Bear for those who don't watch the Six? Because I read the bear fic cause I love you're writing, but I'm kinda lost about him I'm general lol

yes of course!!!

basic synopsis [stole from wikipedia lol]: Six chronicles the operations and daily lives of operators who are part of SEAL Team Six.

(spoilers below)

the overarching plot is about the kidnapping and eventual murder of Rip Taggart, a former member of Team Six. the show also goes over the personal lives of each of the men on the team and how their military careers affect their personal lives

Barry plays Senior Chief Special Warfare Operator (E-8) Joe "Bear" Graves a.k.a. Foxtrot Delta 1/FD1

most important plot points to help you get into my fic:

Bear is married to Lena, a school teacher (they were high school sweethearts); in the first episode (which takes place i think about a year and a half or so prior to the actual start of the show), they just found out that they're going to have a baby girl

Their daughter ends up dying at just a couple months old; it's hugely tragic and has a profound impact on both characters, but Bear is outwardly struggling a lot

Bear is a very religious man (like the kind of guy that can quote scripture from memory), but throughout the show, his relationship with his faith is becoming more and more strained as he feels like he's being punished for all of the killing that he's done as part of Team Six

Since the death of their daughter, Bear and Lena have also been having a lot of trouble conceiving (hence, the fertility clinic scene with Bear jacking off) - we later learn that this is due to a fertility issue on Bear's side (another thing that he takes as a sign that he's being punished - this guy is having a rough fucking time)

All of this is obviously also having a profoundly negative impact on Bear's and Lena's marriage; through the two seasons of the show, they gradually grow apart and eventually separate. Bear is fighting this the whole way through; he's intensely jealous when he suspects her of dating someone else and also struggles with the idea of moving on himself.

(I don't think it's confirmed, but we all imagine he's like Baptist or something; again, I emphasize, deeeeeppllyyy religious.)

As mentioned earlier, his former team member and close friend, Rip, dies at the end of season 1, which is just another thing causing Bear to spiral. Earlier in season 1, Team Six also lost another comrade named Buckley.

I mentioned earlier that Bear struggles with the concept of moving on from Lena and finding someone else. At one point in season 2, he does eventually sleep with someone after a night out at the bar, and to me this is a crucial moment in his character development because it shows just how far he's drifted from the church and from his religious beliefs.

Things that happen in the show but I'm not putting in my fic:

At the end of season 2, Lena is shot and killed. I'm not super interested in putting this in my fic, so in my fic, they've just officially gotten divorced and she's moved away.

#six spoilers #joe bear graves #joe graves

[its-avalon-08]

lando norris x reader

themes- enemies to lovers flirty interactions female Formula1 driver

Chapter 1 - Girl in Red Bull

The fluorescent lights of the Red Bull garage buzzed, casting a sterile sheen over the gleaming RB19. Max Verstappen lounged beside it, headphones on, humming along to some Dutch techno unseen by the flurry of mechanics flitting about. Then, the doors whooshed open, and the air shifted. All eyes, including Max's, snapped to Y/N L/N, striding in like a storm in crimson Red Bull overalls.

"Well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence," Max drawled, a smirk playing on his lips.

Y/N met his gaze, her own lips curling into a smile that wouldn't be out of place on a panther. "Someone had to show you how it's done, Pretty Boy," she retorted, flicking a stray lock of auburn hair from her eyes.

Their banter crackled in the air, an old, familiar electricity. Ever since kindergarten, Y/N and Lando had been locked in a perpetual competition – academics, karting, anything involving a scoreboard. They pushed each other, fueled by a rivalry that was just this side of flirtatious. But when it came to the big leagues, the prestigious racing academies, only Lando got the golden ticket. "Girls don't belong in Formula One," the scouts had scoffed, leaving Y/N fuming but undeterred.

She'd vanished abroad, leaving whispers of her meteoric rise through the European junior championships. Now, here she was, a Red Bull rookie, Max's teammate, and Lando's worst nightmare.

Lando Norris, meanwhile, had just arrived, an entourage of cameramen and PR people trailing him like confetti. He spotted Y/N and froze, his signature grin faltering for a split second.

"Y/N?" he breathed, disbelief in his voice.

"The one and only," she confirmed, raising an eyebrow. "Surprised the paparazzi didn't give you the memo?"

A smile slowly bloomed on Lando's face. "Red Bull, huh? Never saw that coming."

"Neither did I," Y/N admitted, a ghost of a smile flitting across her own lips. "But sometimes, life throws you a curveball. Or, in this case, a whole racetrack."

Max, forgotten between them, watched the exchange with narrowed eyes. He knew their history, the competitive fire they ignited in each other. Now, that fire was about to engulf the entire paddock.

As the garage doors sealed shut, the hum of the RB19 seemed to rise, a low thrumming promise of what was to come. The 2024 season was about to begin, and the battle lines were drawn. Not just between teams, not just between drivers, but between a past laced with rivalry and a future pregnant with possibilities. Red lights, racing hearts – let the games begin.

#max verstappen imagines #lando norris #formula one #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #f1 imagine #cute #enemies to lovers #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #mclaren

[shammers86]

Because I’m not tired and my brain is going a million miles a minute because Tim f-ing Minear decided to drop some more stills.

Season 6 ending with Buck in a relationship and Eddie asking Marisol out for coffee. Obviously with three cruise ship episodes, there might not be a time jump for 7x01. However I think Tim is editing 7x01 and hence some of the stills. And he said they just cracked the seal on 7x04 so these stills are definitely not from that.

I theorized Marisol wouldn’t be around long. Some people think so (I do however love the idea of her playing a stalker. It would be amazing. We did call Jonah from day 1) but I don’t.

It’s a basic reset for new viewers.

We do know everyone recovered by the end of season 6, so this could tie into that.

My angsty AF theory is that Buck doesn’t know why he’s flailing with Eddie going out with Marisol. He’s been very involved with Natalia at the end of season 6 and therefore could think “I might need to take a step back from the Diazes.”

Buck hasn’t really dealt with the trauma of dying, of his coma dream and thinks if someone came back, then maybe he should date them. And he’s probably feels Eddie slipping away if he’s spending time with Marisol and Buck dives into the relationship with Natalia.

More below the cut before holy lord LONG POST.

In this still, it seems like they are still in sync at work. Probably putting out a fire and rescuing someone. This feels like the conversation in Jinx about Eddie running into Ana. They are bumping shoulders so they could be talking about relationships.

Somewhere between this still and these stills below, something happens. That something makes Eddie work out hard enough to sweat which we have only seen maybe three times. Once when Buck was being a brat, another during the fighting and again when he’s on the treadmill after transferring. But for the most point, he only does this when he’s anxious or mad about something to do with Buck.

My angsty AF theory is that Buck really stepped back on their friendship and him being there for Chris. Eddie is still affected by the lightning strike and suddenly Buck isn’t there anymore. Whether it’s to give Eddie time to date or to spend more time with Natalia, Eddie is going through it.

He saw a life without Buck and he knows it sucks but he doesn’t know how to properly say that to Buck. And we have the puppy eyes where Buck asks if everything ok with Marisol and maybe just maybe getting a hint that something is off with him and Eddie.

These stills are reminiscent of Buck’s speech about Ana and Eddie’s lack of feelings and panic attacks about her. Except maybe this time, Buck starts to realize there might be more to this.

Obviously Eddie is getting advice from Bobby but the last time he asked advice in this type of setting, it set him on the path towards Ana. Maybe this time Bobby’s advice is a little more direct.

Then we come to this still with Buck and Chris.

This is not an usual still between this two. This speaks of tension and Chris maybe mad about something. And Buck looks like he’s trying to explain something. (Lyn’s color theory works well with this). Maybe he tries to explain why he hasn’t been around and tries to apologize for not being there.

It also relates back to Chris almost losing Buck. This kid has been through a lot but Buck has been a constant figure in his life for years now and Buck promised he would always be there.

So if it seems like Buck broke the promise and Chris is possibly taking it out on Eddie and Eddie is at a loss, then Buck finally gets it through his head that he doesn’t have to step back.

And he tries to talk to Chris about why he wasn’t around.

Obviously they all need to just talk to each other. Especially about the shooting, the will and the lightning strike.

Lastly we have this still. (I’m on Team Buck here)

Maybe before the Chris and Buck still or after, Eddie finally caves and tries to let Buck know he is wanted and can come around whenever.

This should grab is also reminiscent of Eddie telling Buck there is no one he trusts more with Chris. It echoes the same exact feeling of “You are my family no matter what. You’re part of Christopher’s family no matter what.”

Despite the redemption of shitty parents in season 6, I hope Tim really gives us the found family feels we fell in love with. More so with the Buckley-Diaz family and how much Eddie has invited Buck into his and his son’s life from basically day 1. (Ok like day 7 but I digress).

I don’t think Buck is gonna allow Christopher to be injured physically. I think it’s going to play out in emotionally injured way because he would accidentally do that again.

And for the love of God, go to therapy.

#911 spoilers #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 #christopher diaz #911 abc #I had angsty thoughts yall and it was gonna ruminate in my brain #ok maybe now I can sleep

[theshipminer]

Decided to rewrite Hazbin Hotel because I was bored

You can consider this a fix, or whatever. I don't really care. I just thought that the show had fantastic ideas, meh execution. It's whatever. Anyways, shoutouts and apologies to my sister, @aimasup, for bouncing ideas with me, and for being the one who had to listen to me ramble on about all of this. If anyone wants to ask me questions or anything, I'll be happy to answer. Anyways, endless rambling for what basically is fanfiction under the read more:

Premise is still the same: Hotel in Hell re-Habilitates Horrible Has-beens

Probably at least three seasons

Season 1: Episode 1: Probably reuse the pilot for the first episode, albeit with their updated designs and other miscellaneous improvements.

This season establishes Hell, the Hotel, and other wacky shenanigans that the hotel goes through to rehabilitate sinners

Hitler probably shows up at least more than once

The Overlords of Hell are the main antagonists

There’s also the looming deadline of the yearly purge, so that’s fun

Season 1 finale: The Hotel staff finally go to heaven! Charlie’s ideas are finally being recognized! But, oh no! The head of the angels, Adam is a dick!

It gets worse! They couldn’t wait an entire year, so the next purge is in three months! What is everyone to do?!

In the end, everyone except Charlie has a great time. Alastor is conveniently absent for the entire episode.

Season 2: business as usual? Everyone is extra excited, except Charlie. Perhaps the time has come to ask daddy for help? More than usual?

Oh, yeah. Lucifer is probably gonna be one of the patrons in this season, I guess. Maybe we also discover what happened to Lilith in this season, but then again, it will probably depend on what the show does with her.

“I miss my wife, Tails. I miss her a lot.”

Somewhere, the truth finally gets out. Charlie has been keeping it in all this time because she hopes that maybe talking to Lucifer will solve this whole dilemma and Adam, massive dick that he is, won’t attack a former angel!

It doesn’t work.

Season 2 mid-season two-parter: the purge happens early. A massive battle between Hell and Adam’s forces happens. Maybe the hotel staff and the Overlords team up for this one, with some “persuasion” from Alastor?

Naturally, Adam is defeated, and Charlie wants to redeem him as well. The Overlords disagree, and take him prisoner.

While in captivity, Adam lets slip something interesting: God is nowhere to be seen. And he hasn’t been for a very long time now. Naturally, the overlords are interested, but of course they won’t want to let an angel leave alive, now wouldn’t they? The audience doesn’t learn this until the end of the season, when Alastor himself learns this vital piece of information. And only when he spills it to the main cast.

RIP Adam, you won’t be missed.

The rest of the season is back to business…? Nope! After hearing that God is missing, the Overlords realise that Heaven is basically prime for the taking. So they’re planning a full-blown war.

To help in this war, they plan to unseal the Root of All Evil, who shall henceforth be referred to as ‘Roo’.

Roo is considered the most powerful of all demons, even more than Lucifer. The angels sealed her away a long time ago, but the seal has started to weaken.

Season 2 two-parter finale: After learning about the vital piece of information, Alastor tells everyone that the Overlords are planning to go to war with Heaven, and also about Roo. He doesn’t tell them about God, though. Where would be the fun in that?

Roo has been unsealed and naturally, the Overlords can’t control her. Who could have seen this coming?

Charlie , naturally, doesn’t like war. The battle against Adam could be classified as self-defense, but she never wanted it to escalate to this. So she decides to try and kill two birds with one stone: defeat Roo to hopefully find a way to prevent war, and also to hopefully destroy evil at its source and have everyone stop being evil? Charlie really doesn’t want to have to kill someone. I mean, Adam was left alive, and he’s probably doing well for himself, right? (Does she know?)

A grueling battle is held, and against all odds, Roo is defeated. the Overlords no longer have a weapon against heaven, all should be well, right? All that’s left to do is find some common ground with Roo, find out why she’s so evil, and hopefully stop evil from happening.

Yeah, nah. Roo gives Charlie a HUGE “The Reason You Suck” speech about her naivety, and pretty much forces Charlie to kill her with her own hands. Sucks.

Oh, yeah, and Alastor finally lets spill that God is missing. Great job, Al. You fucking asshole.

Season 3 Episode 1: begins with Charlie pretty much depressed after the previous season’s events. Everyone tries to cheer her up. It’s all comedic, until the final part where they have a heart-to-heart and remind Charlie of all the things she’s accomplished with them, even if they haven’t gone to heaven yet.

The end of the episode has Charlie realize that, with God gone, that means that the yearly purges probably didn’t happen under God’s watch, meaning that if they bring God back, things will finally be right again!

It’s finally time to take action, and everyone is gonna go to Heaven! How? I dunno, how do the Exorcist Angels come down to Hell? I dunno, some kind of elevator that no one was brave enough to hijack?

The rest of the season takes place in Heaven. Hotel shenanigans happen again, but in heaven, this time!

Charlie meets the other archangels, and while they’re still dicks, at least they’re less so than Adam. Unlike Adam, maybe they’re more like Alastor in terms of demeanor: they don’t particularly care what kind of plot Hell’s up to, but they’d certainly be interested in how these sinners will manage to come up into Heaven.

Should they meet Jesus in Heaven? A parallel to Charlie in Heaven, he wholeheartedly supports Charlie’s endeavors and basically becomes her first friend in Heaven?

The overarching mystery is: where is God? What happened to Him? Why does Archangel Michael take so long to use the bathroom?

Eventually, like, near the end of the season, we finally meet God.

Wouldn’t it be funny if, after three whole seasons of extravagantly designed characters, demons, angels, sins and virtues alike, we finally meet the Big G Himself and He’s just… a dude in a robe and a beard? How funny would that be?

Anyways, we finally get a reason for God’s very, very long absence: after thousands of years of humanity’s evil, and His many failed attempts to purge evil from the world, His last attempt finally broke Him, and He spent the rest of time in a depressive slump, pretty much never ever leaving His room. He’s, ironically enough, lost faith in humanity.

The final ‘patron’ of the ‘hotel’ is God Himself. Charlie and the others have to convince Him that humanity is worth believing in, and to give them another chance. Of course, they succeed.

The finale could be that God has officially recognized the Hazbin Hotel as an official way for sinners to redeem themselves: a “very definitely final chance to enter Heaven”. If sinners can’t redeem themselves even in death, then they never will. Charlie’s friends are the first sinners to finally ascend to Heaven, but they stay behind in Hell to help run the hotel.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel rewrite #not gonna lie #kinda proud of this #too many characters to tag #i reblogged some fantastic redesigns from aimasup earlier #so you can check them out #and go visit her blog

[echos-gal]

I really do think that the constant mentioning of Tech, without any sort of explicit mourning or closure, implies that he will be back. Phee mentioning him in episode 8 really sealed the deal for me. We never see an emotional reaction from anyone, except momentarily at the end of season 2. It just doesn't fit with killing off a MAIN CHARACTER who was literally a sibling, part of a set, a member of their team, and a romantic interest! If it were permanent, his death would have carried a lot more narrative weight by now, and the writers would have shown us his siblings' (and Phee's) grief. But they didn't. They skipped it - why spend time focusing on the impact of a death that isn't actually a death? Suspicious....

Plus, Crosshair doesn't know Phee, and he certainly doesn't know about Tech and Phee's relationship. I can definitely see this coming up in a future episode, once they have Tech back. Phee is a fantastic character on her own, but she is additionally important for 2 reasons: 1.) she is the one who brings the batch to Pabu so they can start their new lives, which Crosshair is currently benefitting from, and 2.) she shows us a side of Tech that we have never seen before - a side that we can assume Crosshair hasn't seen either. She is SIGNIFICANT! And Crosshair has no idea! This will be touched on later in the season, I am sure of it.

#tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers

[17-million-years-of-pining-poll]

BEST LONG-TIME PINING SHIPS: ROUND 1 MATCH 14

Why you should vote for each ship under the cut!

Merthur: they meet and it’s IMMEDIATE aggressive flirting. two episodes in they’re already trying to die for each other. rampant jealousy, codependency, devotion, queer metaphors, being beside each other through everything, all the good stuff. merlin sabotages every relationship arthur attempts to be in except gwen, who he knows that arthur loves. arthur kills merlin’s singular non-arthur romantic prospect (not on purpose but it’s still funny). there’s like. a good 10+ years of arguably reciprocated pining there. and then arthur goes and dies in merlin’s arms and NEARLY says he loves him but says thank you instead. and then there’s another 1500+ years of one sided pining while arthur is dead and merlin is waiting for him to rise again. Catradora: These two ladies are one of the most iconic examples of friends-to-enemies-to-friends-to-lovers in fiction. They’ve known each other and cared about each other since childhood. They weren’t sure what their feelings for each other were, but both knew the other CARED. Then Adora realized that they were both working for the Bad Guys and defected, and Catra did NOT take that well. What follows are 4 straight seasons of flirtation, hostilities, and heated combat before Catra finally understands where and how badly she messed up, and joins Adora’s team. At which point they become even MORE flirty, before they finally seal the deal with a kiss in the finale, becoming the couple that they always had the potential to be, but couldn’t for so long because of things unspoken and undone.

#round 1 #polls #merthur #merlin bbc #merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin x arthur #spop #she ra and the princess of power #she ra #catradora #spop adora #spop catra #catra x adora

[pensat-i-fet]

An unbearable fan (Rúben Dias x Reader)

**So I was requested this the other day and it's kind of funny huh? Me writing from the POV of a Madrid fan. Just in case you didn't know it was fiction, this is the definitive proof 😅 anyways, it’s just banter and a bit of angst and fluff for all of you to hopefully enjoy! ❤️**

Word count: 1238

Masterlist

Wattpad

There were downsides to any relationship and that included a relationship with a football player. All the travelling, all the emotions that went up and down depending on the result of that specific day…it could be a lot. But when the player didn't play for the team you loved with all your heart, things could get a bit messier.

Luckily for you, Rúben played in England. Your team played in the Spanish League. So the chances of him playing against Madrid were so small…but there still was a chance.

And so when Madrid beat Chelsea and City beat Bayern, it was time for a second semifinal in a row between your team and your boyfriend's. And you hated it.

For the first leg, the teams played at the Bernabéu. Being back there was special for you. And it helped you daydream about Rúben playing there in the future…but for the home team. A girl can dream.

The match ended in a draw and Rúben should have been given MOTM because he drove your attacking players insane. They don't call him "the wall" for nothing.

"Just 1-0 at home, and we're in the final".

"Yeah, good luck with that", you said, rolling your eyes. "My boys were just warming up yesterday. They saved all the magic for the Etihad".

"You lot are really into saving the magic for the last minute. It gets annoying, you know?"

"Not to us!", you shrugged.

The banter continued during the next week but what changed was the nerves you felt. Rúben being in the final was great but you couldn't just root against your team. They had already been in a similar position the previous season and it broke your heart. But also, you were happy he lost and that made you feel like a horrible person. You tried not to show it in front of him but he wasn't dumb.

"Are you wearing that?", he asked, pointing at your outfit.

"Yes. What's wrong with it?"

"You always wear my shirt to matches. But I guess you're just making it clear again you want me to lose".

"It's not that but, it's my team…imagine Madrid and Benfica played each other! You'd want Benfica to win and I wouldn't blame you".

"You don't play for any of the teams. That makes the difference. I get you want them to always win but you should make an exception when they play against me!"

"I'd be happy if you win…".

"I doubt it".

You didn't want to say more because it'd only make things harder to fix later. But driving in silence was going to make you go insane.

"Good luck".

"It almost sounded like you meant it".

"Rúben, I do mean it".

"You mean you want me to do well while my team is destroyed. But it's a team sport. What I do means nothing".

"Tell that to Benzema".

He ignored your comment and left to join the rest of the team without saying goodbye.

Why couldn't they draw another team instead of yours???

Rúben wasn't completely wrong. Whatever happened, you wanted him to be the best player on the pitch. It could be someone else who messed up when your team scored.

And he was one of the best…but then again, so was Bernardo who scored a brace. And Julián only needed a few minutes on the pitch to seal their pass to the final. 4-0, how did that happen?

Apart from Rúben doing well, you wanted just a simple 0-1. No team needed to be humiliated this time. But yours was and it was against one of your biggest enemies. Pep.

When you saw Rúben waiting for you by the car, you noticed his smile and that pissed you off. So you couldn't want your team to win but he could laugh after humiliating you? Bit unfair, that.

"You feeling ok after that?"

Your response was to look inside his trousers' pockets, which confused him. "Did you take Karim out already? Nice, he needs the fresh air".

"You're joking?"

"It's that or telling you to go to hell. I'm trying to be diplomatic".

The day after the match, you were off work so sleeping in sounded like the best way to start your day. By the time you woke up, Rúben was long gone and so you made it to the kitchen expecting it to be empty.

And there was no Rúben there but it looks like he had time to buy, and print, all the newspaper articles about the match before leaving to train. He even checked the Barcelona press to find the most insulting headlines.

But two could play that game.

"Did you read the news today?", he asked when he got back home.

"I've never been a newspaper person. I prefer to get my news from Twitter".

"From Madrid fan accounts? I bet they are real objective".

"Are you a comedian now?"

"Come on…", he said, hugging you. "Forgive me for annihilating your team".

"Should we talk about last season, Dias? Stop it!"

"Such a sore loser", he laughed.

"Well, I'm not used to losing unlike others".

                                      **

The weeks that passed between the semifinals and the final had helped you two forget your little fight. But you were still petty and had a surprise saved for Rúben.

"It's so tiring to pack for just a couple of days. I've checked the weather so many times to bring the right clothes".

"You can always use that as an excuse to go shopping there".

"You're right. But…can you help me? I don't know if this outfit is right for the match?"

When he got there, his smile disappeared.

"I can't stand you".

"Is it good or not?"

"When did you buy an Inter shirt?"

"When I saw the newspapers you left for me".

"It was a joke", he said, annoyed.

"This is a joke too".

"A joke is supposed to be funny".

"Really, Rúben? So you thought I would laugh at what you did to me?"

And it was back to square one. But at least this time you travelled separately. And, even if he pissed you off so much since he beat Madrid, you still wore his shirt to the match. You didn't even wear a Madrid one to the semis and he really thought you'd wear an Inter one now? Silly boy.

But all the jokes and digs meant nothing when you saw him lifting the trophy. Your eyes watered immediately and you couldn't wait to hug him.

"You…you won", you said, sobbing and hiding your face in his neck.

"Yeah, sorry about that".

You both laughed and he held you tighter while you cried.

"I'm really proud of you, you know?"

"Even if I beat your team to win the trophies?"

"Yeah", you said, looking up at him. "Even then. Seeing you after you won just…I didn't expect it to mean so much".

"It means a lot to me that it means a lot to you".

You hugged in the middle of the pitch, forgetting about everyone else.

"Besides, you still have a long way to go to catch us so…we like doing charity work and letting others win every once in a while".

Rúben laughed and shook his head. "You are the most unbearable fanbase in the world, you know?"

"I know. But at least you managed to get one of us to be happy you won today".

#ruben dias #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias one shot #ruben dias angst #ruben dias fluff #footballer imagine #footballer one shot #footballer angst #footballer fluff

[berenwrites]

Closure - Stranger Things - Steddie - G

Rating: G| cw: blood | tags: post season 4, eddie lives, fluff no angst

Prompt: Love is having hope for the future together (acasualcrossfade)

A/N: Written for @steddielovemonth day 12. Sorry I have missed so many days – had lots of ideas, just no umph to actually get them on paper. Feeling more creative today. Enjoy!

Also on AO3 | All My Other Stranger Things Fic

Closure: Rifts & Reactions

Steve grabbed Eddie’s hand as it was offered and let the other man drag him out of hole they had both been in only moments before. He could barely believe it as he staggered to his feet and the fissure behind them groaned as it closed.

“Teams sound off, over,” came over the walkie slung across his back in Dustin’s urgent tones.

“Team 1, all safe, over,” came the first response from Hopper.

“Team 2, all safe, over,” was the second from Nancy as Steve pulled the walkie round to the front.

“Team 3, all safe, over,” he said, as clearly as he could.

He looked at Eddie, battered, bruised, filthy, just like him, and he couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of his throat. It was over, really over this time. Vecna was dead. All his monsters were dead. The Upside Down was sealing itself off without his influence to keep the gates open. And they were all alive.

“Finally losing it, Sweetheart?” Eddie asked as Steve laughed so hard his legs gave out.

He was exhausted, had a three-groove gash across the front of his left leg, luckily not too deep, and he ached all over, but he couldn’t stop laughing.

When they had gone in, Team 1 containing El, to confront Vecna head on, Team 2 to distract as many of Vecna’s monsters as possible, and Team 3 to take out the lab in the Upside Down that had machinery in it Vecna had been using to keep open his gates, Steve had mentally given them about a fifty percent chance. That they had all come through it alive and kicking was simply amazing.

Eddie sat down next to him.

“It’s over,” he said, unable to keep the wonder out of his voice. “It’s finally over.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, smiling at him.

If the rifts closing hadn’t been a huge giveaway, there was something in the air as well. It was as if a weight had been lifted. Maybe a psychic one had been.

“You’re still bleeding though,” Eddie pointed out.

The wounds were oozing a little thanks to all the vigorous movement, but it wasn’t much, as far as Steve could tell.

“Can I kiss you,” was what he decided to respond, gazing into Eddie’s eyes, and watching them go wide and shocked, “please,” he added.

Finding Eddie wandering around the evacuated trailer park in a fugue state had felt like a miracle at the time. His reaction to it had given Steve a clue that he had become more attached to the metalhead than he had admitted to himself before that. Then helping nurse Eddie back to health and to his old self had only deepened the fledgling feelings.

They’d all been focused on only one thing though: defeating Vecna, so he’d put all those things on the back burner. Even when he was pretty sure he’d seen Eddie looking at him the same way, he had pushed them down because there was too much to do.

There wasn’t any more.

“Yes,” Eddie said, and now it was him who sounded like he couldn’t quite believe it.

Steve leaned in, just lightly touching his lips to Eddie’s. It was Eddie that grabbed him by the straps on his combat jacket and pulled him in for a much deeper kiss. Steve revelled in it. They both tasted of ash, but he didn’t care. He never wanted to stop kissing Eddie if he could help it. It was only when a groan was forced from his mouth, and not in a sexy way, when he made a move that had his leg complaining loudly that Eddie drew back.

“More later,” Eddie said and took the walkie from his hand, pulling the strap over his head. “This is Team 3, over.”

“Central here, over,” Dustin’s replied instantly.

“Could do with a pickup,” Eddie said, “Steve’s hurt. Bikes are a no go, over.”

They hadn’t wanted to be seen on the way in, so they’d biked to their entry point.

“Bad?” Dustin came back, completely forgetting the ‘over’.

“No worse than usual,” Eddie replied. “He had to make sure he has some more badass scars, of course, over.”

“This is Team 1,” came over the walkie from Hopper. “Can swing by and pick you up once I’ve dropped off my lot. How urgent is it? Over.”

Steve took the walkie back.

“I’m fine,” he said, giving Eddie a look for worrying everyone, “I just can’t pedal. Over.”

“Got it,” Hopper returned. “Sit tight, I’ll be with you soon. Over.”

“Will do, over and out,” Steve responded.

“This whole kissing thing better not be due to blood loss,” Eddie said as Steve put the walkie down.

“Nope,” he replied, “that just made me brave. Want to kiss some more?”

“Sweetheart, I’ll kiss you forever if I can,” Eddie replied.

“I’ll keep you to that,” he said with a smile, leaning back in, but making sure he didn’t do anything stupid with his leg this time.

All My Other Stranger Things Fic

#stranger things #stranger things fanfic #fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie munson #eddie lives #post season 4 #steddielovemonth #eddie x steve #steddie fic #steddie fluff #steddie ficlet

[kiirotoao]

Byler and Confrontation 1.5: The Importance of Season 4

Byler being immediately comfortable with each other in season 4 would have been too easy. Too obvious. No other pair is as close as Byler, and if they kept in contact, their relationship’s progression would have been so clear that it wouldn’t even be interesting, and that’s why I think that Byler is plainly intentional to end up together in slow burn fashion.

Imagine the airport scene but they hug with all the emotion of true best friends (which, they are, and that’s a canon fact that Mike asserts and Will agrees with in s4e4, but I digress-) meeting again, crashing into each other, joking right off the bat, being comfortable like they easily could have been. Will comments on Mike’s ridiculous outfit and Mike defends himself and Will laughs and Mike’s forgotten how much he missed hearing that laugh. Then Will would give him the painting and Mike would be blushing, and the story’s over! Even if they dance around their feelings for the rest of the show long, they could have instantly recognized that something’s changed and yet stayed the same, and they’d be a unit again. Or should I say, a team?

I feel like there’s no other way to treat Byler other than subtly vying for each other’s attention (Will looking at Mike longingly, Mike turning to Will for wisdom) or blatantly vying for each other’s attention (Will the Wise, Mike Wheeler in general), and to go full blown best friends attached at the hip from day one in California would have been way too romantically charged. Not necessarily openly, but just in the way it’s easy to doubt, to have brows raised.

And what good storytelling would that be? To just seal the deal the second they meet? We know that they miss each other. Will was ready to give him that painting. And yeah, it takes Mike a whole business day to realize how much he misses Will, too, but that type of love that reaches out doesn’t originate from only that business day. So do they just flat out hug and say, “God, I missed you so much” ?? Of course not! Because that’s immediate intimacy. That’s honesty with no side effects, and that’s something that doesn’t happen in any well-created nor real life love story.

Once upon a time, the end? There’s no way! No one would be as invested.

And I’m not saying that I don’t want Byler to be so strained, or I don’t want them to be happy. I want them to be so happy. And seeing their mistakes and growing through them only makes that happiness more and more apparent whenever they come around. Because they find each other, in the end. They forgive and work through things and their chemistry abounds through tough moments, and that’s what makes them amazing to me. Literally look at every other ship in the show. Jopper fought all season long during season 3 because Hopper was jealous and Joyce was a stressed-out boss ass bitch. Jancy fought in seasons 1 and 3 before and after they learned more about each other and worked through their biases. Lumax had that fight at the arcade where Max didn’t believe what Lucas was telling her.

Anger often breeds hate, but sometimes, it creates something beautiful in people who, deep down, want to figure something out about each other: steadfastness.

Simply put, their story grows.

Which is why they couldn’t hug. Which is why they barely spoke. Which is why they lashed out at each other. Which is why it took a whole business day to rejoin as a team. Which is why their forgiveness is all the more sweet. Which is why their relationship is all the more sweet. Which is why they prove to know each other. Which is why they’re so good together.

Look at them!! Look at Mike, chuckling at five damn words. And this was BEFORE they truly amended fences!!!

I love how hardships bring Byler together. I don’t know about you, but I’d want a partner who doesn’t avoid the rough patches but strives to love me through them - because they will happen! No one is perfect! And no, I don’t mean fight and you will find love. But when you love, you will fight. And that’s what I think is what happens when Byler fight.

So I can’t wait for it to happen one more time, probably about the lie of the painting being commissioned, for everything to fall apart only to come back together because they realize it’s all one giant story of misunderstanding and internalized homophobia and repressed feelings - a final and urgent fight that demands them to let everything out in the open and truly realize that they are the love that each other seeks.

And, I mean, I don’t know, I think that it would be pretty cool to write a slow burn romance amidst all the love triangles and love-at-first-sights and tragic losses. With bonus unique notes of being childhood best friends with deeply-explored queer coding. Just saying.

#byler #byler analysis #Byler brainrot #lowkey shitpost #I feel so bad for cursing on this blog idk why but I was impassioned so. oops #hehe #thinking about their fights again #stranger things analysis #BYLER IS ENDGAME #special thanks to Conan Gray’s the final fight for putting me through this lmao

[percheduphere]

LOKI SEASON 2 - END GAME THEORIES PART 1

This is going to be a super long post that will need to be divided into 2 parts due to the 10 image posting limit. Here's what I'll cover:

Part 1:

1.) The Original Timekeepers

2.) Trust as a Theme

3.) Social Intelligence is a Leadership Skill

4.) Mobius's Presence Through Food - Food is Socializing ... and Friendship

Part 2: (read: here)

5.) Mobius's Plotline

6.) Sylvie's Role

7.) John = Mobius?

8.) The Original Timekeepers & Time Paradoxes

THE ORIGINAL TIMEKEEPERS

I am 99.99% certain that the original 3 timekeepers are Loki, Mobius, and Sylvie, and that we are in a time paradox by which the future influenced the past. The lore and set design have repeatedly highlighted that there have always been THREE timekeepers.

More than once, the camera has held on the TVA seal for an extended period. The seal above is from the past, when HWR was in power.

This seal is from the future:

In both cases, the image of the seal remains the same. The dagger represents Loki, the hourglass (drawn like a mobius strip) represents Mobius, and the mask (that looks like shield but isn't) represents Sylvie, who can enchant. The papers covering the text appears intentional as well, a nod to the comics, "Loki: God of Stories".

And the writers, cunning folk that they are, are counting on the most avid fans to be too busy looking for scenes supporting their ships to realize that the end game is for Loki, Mobius, and Sylvie to trust and care about one another enough to protect all time(lines), always. Please note that I'm not an anti. I love shipping! It's fun. But an awareness of shipping is also a useful tool to keep the audience distracted from the narrative and cinematic hints that are right in front of our faces. These three need to become a team. The shots below (adored by Lokius fans, including me) foreshadow this in 2 ways:

First, that Loki's character has progressed to the point that he trusts and supports Mobius. Second, that both shots are imbalanced. There needs to be a third person on Loki's other side to balance both shots' composition. The Heart of the TVA is missing its 3rd timekeeper: Sylvie.

This shot is significant for several reasons, all of which are thematically connected. Despite there being two people on either side of Loki, the shot is still imbalanced. Loki is slightly closer to Mobius. In this scene. Sylvie is positioned at a distance, demonstrating lack of trust in both of them.

TRUST AS A THEME

Stepping back for a moment, S1 predominantly focused on Loki and Mobius developing trust in one another:

By Season 2, that trust is well-established. Sylvie hasn't had enough time to build trust with either them. She continues to operate in a survivalist mindset. Her history justifies this: she's relied on herself since childhood. But not having anyone to trust is not the path to happiness, nor is it to the path to success when in the face of an annihilation event. Sylvie is still emotionally and psychologically where Loki was at the beginning of S1.

SOCIAL INTELLIGENCE IS A LEADERSHIP SKILL

I'm an older fan. If you've ever worked for a medium to large employer, the different types of managers that exist become apparent.

1. The micromanagers, managers who do not trust their staff and consequently create a tense environment that can become toxic where no one trusts one another.

2. The absent managers, managers who delegate and disappear, leaving their team feel uncared for.

3. The blurred-line manager, who's friendly and approachable but doesn't hold others accountable and doesn't know how to create and implement plans at a high level (out of fear of upsetting anyone), making their team feel frustrated with in-fighting and lost in terms of what the main goal is.

4. The authoritarian, a manager who follows the book to a T, is rigid, punitive, and has no compassion for individual circumstances.

5. The leader, a manager who takes the time to know team members individually, change their management style based on individual needs, keeps an eye on the big picture and ensure actions are taken toward it, holds people accountable but also makes time to make sure people are getting along.

Renslayer, Brad, and Sylvie tearing Mobius down are foreshadowing, plot set-up, and red herrings. Mobius is not a perfect leader, but he is a strong one by virtue of having exceptional social skills, which Sylvie doesn't have because she's never had real friends before. It's not her fault. However, it is imperative that she move beyond this.

And Loki, who has developed compassion, self-awareness, and personal accountability through Mobius's friendship and love, extends those things to Sylvie. He is gentle when he confronts her. He shares his experience with Thor because he knows where Sylvie is at mentally. But he also doesn't force her to come with him. He leaves her with the free will to choose.

MOBIUS'S PRESENCE THROUGH FOOD - FOOD IS SOCIALIZING ... AND FRIENDSHIP

In S2E4, Mobius's presence and influence are heavy in scenes in which he is not there. The pie scene is one of them, with the flickering lights and sweets sitting forlornly behind glass symbolizing that Mobius's sense of self (very much grounded in trust and hope in others, even if they are broken) is wavering. And as @charcubed noted in their INCREDIBLE meta here, everything goes wrong from this point. Why?

Having pie together was an opportunity to build trust and friendship with Sylvie.

None of them have the technical know-how to help OB, Victor, and Casey. The best thing they could have done is get out of their hair because too much overseeing leads to anxiety and anxiety leads to mistakes. Mobius knows this. What can they do in the meantime? Stress eat and integrate Sylvie as a member of the team.

Note that every moment Mobius makes to eat or drink is not only a moment to de-stress, it is also a moment he uses to bond with others and get to know them better. Renslayer (and later Loki, because he's become close enough to Mobius to know what comforts him) uses this method, too.

S1 - Whisky scene with Renslayer

S1 - Cafeteria scene with Loki

S1- Salad scene with Loki

S2 - Cracker Jack scene with Loki

S2 - McDonalds scene with Brad

S2 - Pie scene with Loki

S2 - Hot cocoa scene with Victor

Knowing what people want and care about is critical to motivating individuals, and yes, this talent can be used as manipulation when the situation calls for it.

Socializing over food is also a means of feeling less alone. We tend to eat with people we trust and care about (a tradition meant for family, found or otherwise), or at the very least want to get along with.

The second scene where Mobius's presence is felt despite not being there?

What does Victor dobwith the hot cocoa?

He gives it to D-90.

Victor gives it to D-90 out of a sense of comradery, a basic human desire to share something nice with someone and maybe make friends.

But this moment leads to tragedy. As @charcubed explained, Mobius separating from Loki led him to comfort eat via hot cocoa. The hot cocoa caught Victor's interest. D-90 goes with Victor to check out the machine. D-90 is pruned, and Victor is separated from the team. This causes a delay in getting Victor prepped and out onto the Loom gangway, which causes the temporal radiation to build up so high, it's impossible for Victor survive. The Loom consequently explodes.

PART 2 HERE!

Thank you to @bebx and @mobius-m-mobius for responding to my asks which consisted of end game theories for Loki Season 2 (here, here, here, and here), and for @wowwwmobius for supporting my thoughts. Your replies got me to feel brave enough to post everything I've been thinking in full!

#loki #mobius #sylvie #lokius #sylki #loki season 2 #loki series #loki s2 #mobius m mobius #loki spoilers #my meta #my theories