#IM ALREADY DOING FIVE YEARS OF ENGINEERING
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for jules — c.l
pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader
summary: after placing p10 in fp3 at suzuka and then p8 at qualifying, charles has a hard time maintaining his frustrations with the team and coping with it being jules anniversary.. and you’re there wrapped all up in it.
warnings: sad topic!, mentions of a death, little bit of angst, cursing, venting, and crying
a/n: first fic! pls be nice! also im sorry in advanced for making you sad
—
a part of me had this gut feeling that this would happen to charles, but another part of me really didn’t think this would happen since it’s been almost 10 years since jules bianchis’ crash.
i’m currently seated in the ferrari garage, headphones over my ears listening in to charles’ radio. it’s only q1 and he’s doing good compared to his fp3 hours before. i watch the tv as the cameras follow along with him on the track as he continues to try and beat his fastest lap.
after the 18 minutes are up, i watch as him and carlos both enter into the garage on the tv. i study the pit workers as i watch them work on whatever charles tells them needs to be fixed. before i know it, its already time for them to head out for q2.
charles started out decent but not good enough since he is currently in p9. i can feel myself tense up just at the thought of him being eliminated, especially knowing that’s the last thing he wants since this race is important to him.
i bite on my fingernails as i watch the other drivers speed through the finish line just hoping none of them beat charles’ time.
“what the hell is happening?!” i hear charles say to his engineer. “things will not be good if im eliminated. i don’t want to be below p9 for the race tomorrow!” i can hear the frustration in his voice as he is suddenly bumped down to p10 since fernando alonso made his way up the positions.
i take my headphones off and walk out of the garage trying to calm down for the last qualifying. all i can think about is how frustrated he was with the team after fp3.
i feel someone’s hand touch my shoulder, “y/n it’ll be okay. charles will make his way up, qualifying is one of his strong suits.” fred makes an attempt to comfort me.
“i know it is, im just worried because we all know how important this race is for him.” fred nods his head at me and gives me a weak smile, “cmon, let’s go cheer on our golden boy.” i smile and follow him back into the garage.
once we walk in, fred hands me back my headphones and sends a smile my way as he makes his way over the charles’ car.
apparently q3 has already started and charles has yet to go out. i noticed that carlos was already on the track, so why wasn’t charles? after the next couple of minutes, the time on the clock dwindles down and he finally exists out and speeds onto the track. as he makes he way down the track i find myself inching closer and closer to the tv. he’s up on the last turn and i watch his time clock as he goes through the finish line.
charles was bumped up to p8 and carlos was in p4.
there was only five minutes left of the clock but i couldn’t stop staring at the god damn tv, just hoping none of the drivers below him beat his time.
with less than a minute left on the clock, charles is still out doing his last lap. he comes up on the last turn, “that’s the best that i can do honestly. i don’t get it!” he speaks to his engineer. i sigh and put my headphones down since qualifying is now over. i wait for charles to come back into the garage.
once he and carlos parked their cars in the garage, i stand back as all the pit workers do their thing as charles begins to climb out the car. i watch as he hops down from the car and ignores everyone, even carlos who made he’s way over to speak to him.
i’m stood in the back as charles approaches me. he takes his helmet off as he’s walking towards me and tosses it on the rack near me and rips his balaclava off and throws towards his helmet. i frown as he speed walks right past me, not even making an attempt to look at me.
dumbfounded, i look back over my shoulder as he makes his way to his room, slamming the door behind him.
“don’t take it personal, y/n. he’s just upset with the team and i’m sure he’s blaming himself for it all.” carlos tells me.
“i just don’t get it. i don’t understand why they won’t listen to him sometimes.” i speak out loud not even caring if the team hears me. carlos shakes his head and gives me a pat on the shoulder, “go talk to him. i know he needs you.” taking in carlos’ words, i nod and head toward charles’ room.
when i walk in i wasn’t expecting to see his suit scattered across the floor. stepping over it, i make my way to where charles is sitting and sit down next to him.
“charles, it’s not your fault. don’t blame yourself.” i assure him as i reach out for his hand but i was mistaken as he quickly stands up from the couch.
“no! you don’t get it! no one in the god damn garage understands how important this race is to me and it’s like everyone is just forgetting the reason i still do this sport is for jules!” he grips his hair as he raises his voice.
“charlie, i do understand! me and carlos both know how important this is to you. please don’t take this out on yourself, it’s not your fault.” i try my best to assure him as he paces around the room which was beginning to make me very worried.
“my team can’t even fucking listen to me anymore. it’s like talking to a brick wall sometimes.” i listen as he begins to rant, “it’s like they almost want to humiliate me! sending me and carlos both out for one lap during free practice three instead of two! and now for quali they just don’t give a fuck about what i say with the tryes!” i sigh as i watch him angrily pace over to me.
“i can’t do this anymore, y/n. i’m only going to embarrass myself at the race tomorrow!” i notice tears begin to fall down his distraught face. i feel my heart break in two at the sight. i grab his face in my hands and guide him to sit down on the couch next to me.
“charlie baby, you are not going to embarrass yourself tomorrow. do not let the pole position determine how good you do tomorrow. you’re the most incredible driver out there and i don’t care what anyone says. i heard one of the announcers say that your pace was the fastest of everyone’s, including max. you have the opportunity to redeem yourself tomorrow and i know that you will.” i comfort him as my thumb wipes some of the tears falling from his eyes.
“i don’t want to let jules down.” he whispers to me. “baby, you’re not letting him down,” i coo to him. “jules is proud of you no matter what. he doesn’t care what place you get. i know he’s so proud of how far you’ve come and the impact you’ve made on people’s lives.”
charles sighs and grabs me by the waist, pulling me into his side, “i’m sorry cherie. i’m so sorry for yelling at you and ignoring you. i shouldn’t have. i was just so upset with myself and i didn’t want you to see me like that-“ i cut him off, “charles, hush. i want you in every way. i want the good and the bad sides of you. i want to be there for you during times like this so i can reassure you and comfort you. that’s what im here for.” i tell him as i stroke his damp face with my thumb.
he grabs my face and tells me, “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that right?” i shake my head no and giggle as he begins to smother me in kisses all over my face.
“well clearly i’m not doing a good enough job showing you, i need to step up my game.” he says and i giggle again at his words as my cheeks flush.
“i think you’re perfect the way you are, charlie. you’re going to kill the race tomorrow, no matter what happens, me and jules will be proud of you.” i assure him and he gives me a heart melting smile and grabs my chin to pull me in for a kiss.
—
i guess charles’ breakdown was supposed to happen yesterday considering i am currently cheering for him with the biggest smile on my face as he stands on the first place podium, holding up the trophy and pointing up to the sky, “this is for you, jules!” he yells into the microphone and the whole crowd goes crazy as they all cheer for him.
fred walks up besides me with a smile on his face, “what did i say? no one else deserves it more than that boy.” i smile back and say, “you would be right. jules is proud of him.” fred agrees with me as we watch charles doing the champagne spray with max and lando.
after the celebration was over, i watch charles sprint down into the crowd as security chases after him, but little do they know he is really only coming for me.
“mon amour, we did it! we did it!” he yells as he jogs towards me and sweeps me up into his arms and kisses me passionately in front of everyone. both smiling into the kiss, we break apart, “i love you more than you’ll ever know, baby.” he tells me, champagne sticky hands cupping my face as he pulls me in for another kiss.
and nothing else mattered because it was such a life changing moment in charles career.
#f1 x reader#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc fluff#f1#charles leclerc 16#formula 1#fluff#angst#jules bianchi#japan gp 2024#suzuka gp 2024
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Great Balls Of Fire
Bradley Bradshaw x fem!reader
9k words (ik. i did it again. im sorry)
summary: It’s been four months since you last saw Bradley Bradshaw. Today's the day he finally comes back from his mission and you have more than one ace up your sleeve to surprise him with.
a/n: smut ahead. 18+ im serious theres smut theres a lot of smut. okay. as usual i will now list everything you may have to look out for
fancy ass lingerie, oral sex fem!receiving, unprotected sex (dont be like them, just know theyre in a committed relationship theyve had the talk and all), a lot of begging, hair pulling, good girl's because yes, in general again bradley is a talker, otherwise that's it
top gun masterlist
It had been so long. It had been too long.
With the sun beating down hard on the pavement of the parking lot, the sunglasses on your nose doing their hardest to protect your eyes from the worst of the light, the sound of your heels clicking against solid ground as you took a few steps into the shade of the tree next to Bradley's Bronco. You had been waiting for ten minutes now, checking your phone what seemed like every five seconds, too nervous to actually pay attention to it but too nervous to keep calm either.
You had been so scared you would crash into a grandma on the way over here that you had honestly considered taking your own car instead of the Bronco - but Bradley had trusted you with it, had trusted you to keep his lady running, you, even though he never let anyone else as much as touch the steering wheel, and you would be damned if you didn't pick him up in it.
You hadn't seen him in four months. Four months.
You had been by yourself, had been on your own, had been lonely for four fucking months.
But today was the day you would see him again. Today was the day his oh-so-secret mission would finally, truly come to an end, the day that you would finally, truly see him again. Not over some low-quality video call in the middle of the night, with only your kitchen lights on in the background and your mind hazy and tired because he was nine hours ahead of you and seemed to be at the other end of the world - no, today you would finally, finally, finally see him in the flesh.
You'd been anticipating this moment for the past four months.
So this had to be perfect.
This would be perfect.
You had done everything possible to make this the most perfect day of his goddamn life. You had spent the last four months moving things from the old apartment to the new house - those things that you and him hadn't already moved anyway - and the past week, you'd been cleaning, decorating, anticipating.
He had told you so often how much he missed you. How much he wished he had been there for you, to help you pack the things, to help you take them apart and put them back together, to do more than just the paperwork and set up the bed and the couch.
But he couldn't. And now you were bubbling with nervous excitement, with the joy of sharing all of it with him, to show him the desk you'd put up in the bedroom, the pillows you'd bought for the couch, the paintings you'd hung up on the walls, the kitchen table you'd replaced, the kitchen tiles you'd painted. To show him how much better this new home was than the old apartment had been (even though you'd been very happy there for the past four years as well).
And Bradley would love it. You were sure of that.
You just wanted him to see it so desperately.
You looked up as another car approached - it wasn't Bradley, you knew that, Bradley would come out of that door opposite you, not out of a car, but... There was still some tiny little sliver of hope, the same way there had been every single goddamn time someone had rung your doorbell. It had only ever been the postman or your food.
The car stopped next to you. You watched the engine being turned off and the driver get out because, well, what else was there to do except nervously shift your weight from one leg onto the other and go insane?
So you watched the stranger hop out of their car, nodded politely at them and then refocused your attention on the tips of your sandals. At least you weren't the only one waiting here anymore.
You got out your phone again, checked the time (it'd been a minute and a half since you'd last looked at it) and let out a sigh.
It wasn't that Bradley was late. There wasn't really a "late" anyway, he'd only been able to give you a vague time he'd arrive on, but still. You'd been buzzing with nervous energy for over a week.
You took a deep breath to steady yourself, wiped your sweaty palms off on the sundress you'd put on - the tiny yellow sundress that Bradley had picked out for you on your birthday last year. The tiny yellow sundress that hid the sinful white lingerie under it just perfectly. The sinful white lingerie that you had bought for this very moment.
Bradley would go feral for it, you knew that. He loved white. You thought it was because it looked innocent, chaste. Like something untainted, something waiting to be ruined. Not that you minded. One day, he had promised himself, he would admit to you that it was because it looked like something you would wear on your wedding night.
But either way, you had gone shopping for the perfect set of lingerie and you were more than happy with your final choice.
Bradley could unwrap you like a present. You were desperately hoping he would unwrap you like a present.
You had spent the last four months not doing anything other than hoping. Imagining. Remembering.
So you weren't surprised that you felt like you'd soaked through those pretty (and expensive) panties already.
Your breath hitched. You shifted your weight again.
Bradley would carry you in his big, strong arms over the doorstep, would push you against the wall, would take everything he wanted from you and give everything you needed - he'd pull your dress right off and, at the sight of your lingerie, would fuck you raw.
You had to bite down on your lip to keep you grounded. Four months away had been a long, long time. Four months in which you'd only had yourself, your fingers, your vibrator to keep you company - four months in which you'd only heard Bradley's moans spill over the phone, had only heard him call you honey and good girl through a low-quality mic, had only seen him on pictures he'd left you, on a tiny screen at best.
You were depraved. And pretty sure you'd fall apart at the first touch.
You were so immersed in your thoughts, in that lovely imagery you had created in your head, that you almost missed the door opening. Finally. Finally. You straightened up at once.
It wasn't Bradley who stepped out first - it was one of his colleagues, you guessed, with blonde hair and much shorter - but it was Bradley who stepped out second. You'd know him from miles away.
He strode out of the door and into the sunlight, all familiar brown curls and broad shoulders and Ray-Bans on his nose and an Hawaiian shirt on and his bag lazily slung over his shoulder and that moustache - by god you'd have killed him if he'd shaved that off!
He turned his head and looked at you and a grin broke out on your lips, so wide, so incredibly wide that it felt like it'd split your face in half and before you could think, before you could form any coherent thought you were already moving, your legs with a mind of their own. You were sprinting towards him. Sprinting all through the parking lot, your heels click-clicking on the pavement, and Bradley grinned, grinned and let his bag fall to the ground carelessly, opened his arms instead. Wide, so wide. He was so tall. So broad. So inviting as you ran at him, as you jumped at him, as you wrapped your arms and your legs around him at the same time, as he caught you effortlessly, as your lips landed on his.
As you crashed into him, completely, and he didn't even stagger an inch back.
You had missed four months of this.
And now his lips were on yours. Your legs around his waist. Your arms crossed behind his neck. His breath against your mouth. His lips parted. His tongue against yours.
You were desperate. And you could feel just how desperate he was, too.
You could feel all the passion, all the fiery, red passion, all the force and firmness put into this kiss as his tongue ran along yours, as your breaths met and mingled, as his hands dug into your thighs to keep you upright, to keep you snug to him.
You pulled back incredibly reluctantly. You didn't want to let go of him. You never wanted to let go of him ever again. You wanted to have him, all of him, right here, right now, and then for eternity. But you couldn't, you couldn't because this was the middle of the parking lot, and also because you at least wanted to say hello first.
So you blinked open your eyes and took him in and allowed yourself to grin as broad and as wide as you needed to right now.
"You're back", you whispered, just because that realisation still had to sink in. "You're really back."
Bradley nuzzled your nose with his and let out a hum - god, how you'd missed him. The feel of him, the sound of him.
"Yeah, I'm here, honey", he muttered, that smile of his dripping down onto his voice. "I'm here and I won't leave any time soon."
You couldn't help but lean in again, couldn't help but capture his lips again because how else, how on earth would you let him feel all the joy you were experiencing right now? You didn't even know if you could actually feel all of it. You definitely wouldn't be able to put it into words. So you dug your teeth into his bottom lip and sighed into him and pulled him closer, closer and closer, even further into you.
"I missed you", you breathed against his mouth. "I love you and I missed you, Bradley."
He chuckled, kissed you again, drew back just enough to still touch you somehow, to still have his lips on your skin somehow and be able to talk at the same time.
"I love you so much, honey", he muttered. "And I missed you so much."
And then his lips were on yours again, his fingers digging even harder into your thighs, his breath and his tongue and his moustache scratching against your skin and you moaned, because there was no more anything you could possibly have done, because you couldn't help yourself, because you couldn't stop yourself, because you didn't want to either. You wanted to let him know just how goddamn fucking much you'd missed him.
Bradley had to bite back a laugh, pulled back and looked at you through his sunglasses.
"Sounds like we should get home, honey", he said, his eyebrows raised and his smile deepening with every word. "Been waiting for that for four months."
You let out another soft moan, pushed yourself even closer to him, dug one hand into the back of his hair and scratched the other down his shoulders, down his shirt. You wanted to feel him. All of him. God, the ride home would take ten minutes. Ten minutes. How were you supposed to survive that?
"Please", you whispered onto his lips, and you didn't think you had ever meant it as much as you did now.
Bradley groaned and kissed you again, quickly, heatedly, his tongue running along your bottom lip and then pulling back again. This wasn't enough. This wasn't enough.
He set you down on the pavement again softly, your legs a bit wobbly, unsteady, and trailed one hand from your thigh to your back - anything to keep touching you as he bent down to pick up his bag again. You smiled up at him, smoothed down the front of your dress and beamed as his eyes traveled down your body.
When they snapped back up to catch your gaze, the grin on his face had turned into a much more intense expression.
"You look gorgeous, honey", he muttered, tugging you further into his side, letting his eyes drop down to your chest again. You had to bite down on your lip to keep from jumping at him right this second. He should not have been allowed to just look at you if you couldn't have him touch you too. "Did you pick out new nail polish just for this dress?"
Your grin broadened. Of course he'd notice. Bradley Bradshaw was the only man in the whole universe who would notice. And he was yours.
"Yes, I did", you smiled, looking up at him as he walked with you back to the car. He hummed softly.
"It works great together", he said. Your breath hitched. He was gorgeous and he was here and he had noticed your nail polish. He was perfect. And you wanted him to fuck your brains out. "Reminds me of your burgundy silk dress."
You had to bite down on your lip again - god, you hadn't done that nearly as often when he'd been away! - to keep yourself grounded and to keep your grin in check before it could truly split your face in half.
Your burgundy silk dress was the one you'd worn to Penny and Mav's wedding two years ago that you had spent three weeks hunting down matching lipstick and matching nail polish for. Bradley had worn that lipstick on the base of his cock for most of the night.
"You're incredible, do you know that?", you asked, your voice a bit breathy. Bradley stopped in front of the Bronco, turned to you and pulled you close again. You brought your hands up to his chest.
"I've been told", he muttered, tilted his head down to look at you and then leaned down even further to brush a kiss to your nose. "Open up the Bronco so I can put my bag in the trunk?"
You let your eyes flutter close for just a tiny little moment (he was close, so close and you would literally die if he didn't start touching you any time soon) and breathed in as Bradley chuckled. You'd put the key in your pocket and were scrambling to get it out now, taking one, two seconds too long before you heard the familiar click of the car unlocking.
"Thanks, pretty girl", Bradley mumbled, letting go of you to pull open the trunk and you had to push down a sigh of disappointment, even as anticipation rose up in your stomach. You hadn't heard him call you pretty girl in months.
When he turned back around to you, you were still frozen in spot, still smiling dumbly at him, still waiting for him to touch you, to kiss you, to fuck you. He smiled back and you knew that he knew just what you were thinking. But you couldn't even begin to care. You wanted to get him home as quickly as possible.
"You need to stop looking at me like that, honey", he said, his voice an octave deeper and you just so managed not to let another dumb, pathetic moan slip. He closed the trunk and took a step back to you. "You know I can't help myself when you look at me like that."
At that, you did let the moan tumble from your lips after all.
He'd been away for four months. And he was looking at you with his eyes all dark and his jaw clenched and his chest rising and falling heavily. How on earth were you supposed to be normal about this? You were falling apart already and he hadn't even got you home. Four months had been a long, long time.
His hands were on your waist then, forcing you against the side of the bronco, the door handle digging into your back, the metal warmed up by the sun and your arms crossing behind his neck as his body crowded yours, one leg between yours and no more space to touch, to feel, to see anything that wasn't him - he turned his head to check if the other car had driven away and then his lips were on yours, his knee pressing against your centre.
"Bradley", you moaned into his mouth, before his tongue brushed yours and rendered you speechless. You rocked against his knee, bare skin against your thighs and you wanted to sob, you really actually wanted to sob, because this was the most contact you'd gotten in four fucking months.
Bradley pulled back an inch.
"You're soaked", he groaned against your lips, his breath on your skin, his hands on your waist and you thrust your head back against the car, against the window, squeezed your eyes shut, kept on rocking against his knee.
"I know", you whined. "Been soaked for months."
Bradley let out another groan and pulled back, pulled away from you and you whimpered, blinking your eyes open again because you'd been so close to finally getting what you wanted and now he was taking that right away from you again. You looked up at him and the only reason you didn't straight up voice your disappointment was that he looked just as debauched as you felt - running his hands through his hair, running them over his face, his curls all messed up and a considerable bulge already visible in his jeans.
"Get in the car", he rasped, taking another step back from you as though he had to physically put distance between the two of you so he wouldn't give in and take you right in this parking lot. Not that you would've minded. That other car was long gone. But that he had to restrain himself so much, that he looked so positively exhausted, that his voice was so hard and so rough and so raw, that he had already, so easily begun giving you orders drove you crazy. Orders that you knew you had to follow because this was him, this was Bradley, and if he wanted something from you.... he'd get it. You'd give it to him no matter what. You'd give him everything.
So you pushed yourself off the car with a hard breath and trailed around to the passenger side, keeping your eyes on the ground even as you heard Bradley shuffle and open the driver's door because you knew that if you looked at him, no matter how much you wanted to follow his commands, there was a high chance you wouldn't be able to help yourself.
It wouldn't be the first time.
The seat felt hot and your skin sticked to it immediately and you would have cared in any other situation, but not in this one. Not when Bradley put his hand to your thigh, to your bare skin, to just below the hem of your dress. You could have cried.
He was here, finally, and he was touching you, finally, but he wasn't touching you enough, not nearly enough. This would be a long ten minutes. You pushed your sunglasses up into your hair, turned your head and rested it against the head rest, smiling at the image before you - Bradley in the driver's seat of his Bronco, the steering wheel in one hand, the sun on his face, his curls longer than when you'd last seen them. Had he got more tan? Was that possible?
God, how you'd missed this man.
And he was here now, here, next to you, with one hand on your thigh and a grin playing on his lips and you couldn't help but smile. Big and broad and all-consuming because he was here again, this man that you called yours, he was right here next to you after four months. You loved him. You'd missed him so incredibly much.
His hand moved a little higher up on your thigh, his thumbs brushing, stroking over exposed skin, raising up your dress the slightest bit. Your breath hitched.
"Bradley-", you sighed, jaw clenching as you melted, melted at every little touch because you didn't have to only remember it anymore. You could just push up into him, watch him, breathe in his familiar scent, run your fingers along his arm. This was no more imagining, no more picturing, this was real, this was happening.
"God, I missed you saying my name like that", he groaned, tightening his grip on your thigh and you bit down on your lip, wrapped your fingers around his biceps, his wrist, forced yourself to keep your eyes open so you could keep watching him. You wouldn't miss out on a single second of watching him.
"Bradley", you repeated softly. "I'll say your name as often as you want me to."
His fingers dug even harder into your thigh as he let out some strangled sounding moan.
"You're gonna be the death of me", he muttered - how often you'd thought the same about him! "I'm lucky if I can hold out these ten minutes."
You watched him quietly for a second. You could sense the heat radiating off of him, could see his clenched jaw, could feel his deathgrip on your thigh, could hardly ignore the blazing arousal in your own veins. But if he'd wanted to fuck you in the back of his Bronco, he would've. (As picky as he was about who drove his car, he'd never had a single problem railing you into oblivion in the backseat.) There was a reason he was holding out. You could only guess that he wanted to do this properly - with time and room and no risk of getting caught by the authorities. Should you have minded? Should you have begged him to take you as quickly as possible? You were sure he would have, if you'd pleaded prettily enough. But you were quite alright with time and room and no risk of getting caught. At least for right now. The both of you would manage a ten minute ride, right? You had managed four months. Ten minutes were nothing in comparison.
"Okay", you said, trailed your fingers down to his and intertwined your hands. "I'll help. I'll tell you something. Distract you."
"You can try, honey", he chuckled, sneaked a quick sideways glance at you. "Tell me about the house."
You lit up at that. You had been dying to tell him about the house. So you pushed your arousal deep, deep down (which was easier said than done) and smiled up at him.
"I don't even know where to start", you said honestly, giving yourself a second to think about it. You had ten minutes, after all. And you had to fill them all if you wanted both of you to survive this drive.
So you told him about everything.
The short version, of course.
He'd heard some of it over the phone already, but he hadn't been able to call often and you'd spent most of your time crying and telling him how much you loved and missed him when he had answered, so...
The ten minutes went by more easily this way. You went on and on and on and on about the house, his fingers between yours, your eyes locked on his, with the occasional comment about how sorry he was that he hadn't been there to help. It had been unfortunate, of course, but at the same time it had given you something to put all your time and effort into, which had greatly helped you through his deployment. Plus, there had always been help when you had needed it - Penny and Amelia and Mav, Phoenix and Bob and Jake. The rest of the squad had been scattered, called off to their own missions, but those six you had been able to count on whenever.
Bradley's hand on your thigh was still highly distracting. He moved it up and down a few times, and each time your breath hitched, each time you stumbled over your own words, each time he grinned again.
At one point, his fingertips brushed so close to your underwear that you pushed his hand forcefully back down to your knee. He had been the one so worried he wouldn't manage a ten minute ride and now he was the one teasing you.
Not that you really minded.
But you truly felt like going insane.
Then, finally! you caught sight of your driveway. Bradley was out of the car the second he'd parked it, pulling his hand from your thigh and the key out of the ignition and you had barely unbuckled yourself when he was already opening your door, taking your hand and tugging you out, sending you stumbling into him, into his arms.
He pressed his lips to yours as he pushed the door close, pushed you up against it again, pushed the hem of your dress up to grasp at your bare thigh. You wrapped your arms around his neck, forced him even closer.
"Bradley", you gasped softly. You hadn't moaned his name like that in four months, you'd do it so often today he would get tired of it. Even though you knew that he wouldn't, of course - he would never get tired of you whispering his name into his mouth, into the nothingness of an empty room, into his ear, into the pillows.
He didn't pull back from you, even as he took a slow, careful step away - making sure you'd catch on, making sure you'd follow, making sure to keep you safely, steadily against him. Not that you'd have done anything else. You trusted him with your life, you would trust him to keep you upright. So you did just what he wanted, followed, stumbled with him, eyes closed, lips on his, fingers brushing along his shoulders.
He did pull back then - just an inch or two, to turn you around, to look over your shoulder once, to tear his hand from your thigh and wrap his arms around you instead. And then his lips were back on yours again and his tongue running along yours. He pushed and you followed his wordless command, your legs working quicker than your mind, stumbling, tripping backwards, backwards, backwards and you barely cared, barely even acknowledged the ground beneath your feet because you were wrapped up in his arms, because you were tugging at his curls, because he was here, kissing you, finally.
You weren't needy.
You were desperate. You were depraved, frantic, starved. He was the air you needed to breathe and you hadn't taken a single breath in the past four months.
So you weren't pretending in the way you pulled him close, closer, closer, or in the frenzied way you kissed him, or in the desperate way you sighed, groaned, moaned against him, into him. You needed him. You needed more of him. All of him. You needed to get inside so you could have him.
You bumped into the door then, just short of digging the doorknob into your spine - Bradley pushed you right up against it and you gasped into his mouth, into the kiss. He crowded you against the door much like he'd crowded you against the Bronco, pulling his arms from around you to grasp your waist instead, to press your hips up to the door as well, and used one hand to fumble for the keyhole. He did so blindly, with his eyes still closed, his lips still on yours, with one of your legs coming up to wrap around his hips, your heels digging into his shorts.
Needless to say, he needed quite some time to turn the key.
You didn't mind. Not in the slightest.
You were making out with Bradley Bradshaw right on the doorstep of the house you shared with him, in the bright afternoon sunlight and truly, you couldn't have minded less. You didn't give two fucks about any of your neighbours or any passerbys spotting you - should they, by god! Bradley had come home from deployment after four months, you would make out with him on your doorstep for as long as you wanted to. You wouldn't ever stop making out with him ever again.
Not when he was here again, in your arms, with your fingers tugging at his hair, brushing along his neck, stroking along the collar of his shirt, sweeping along his shoulders. Not with your leg around his hips. Not with your lips on his. Not with anticipation, with arousal in every fibre of your body, of your soul. You were going mad with it. You were getting drunk on it.
You were euphoric when Bradley finally opened the gods damned front door.
He kept you safe and steady even as the support at your back broke away, as you almost crashed onto the floor of your own hallway. He walked you back into the pleasant cold and for once, for the first and probably the only time, you were the one to break away. You gave yourself a second to catch your breath. Then you pushed off of him completely. You took a step away, pulled the key from the door, pushed it close and when you turned back around, Bradley had set his sunglasses down on the little table you had put next to the coat rack a few weeks ago.
And you looked him in the eyes for the first time in four months.
He motioned at the table.
"Looks great, honey", he said, his voice a little too rough to sound quite normal. "Nice touch."
You shook your head softly.
"I couldn't care less about the table right now", you muttered, and with that, you were on him again. Actually, truly, fully on him again. You pushed yourself right up onto him, into him, pried his shirt off his shoulders, off his arms, let it drop down to the ground and then reached for his jaw to drag him further down, to deepen the kiss even if you knew that was impossible. So you bit down on his lip and allowed him to finally push your dress up over your hips, over your chest, over your head - you had to let go of him for a moment then, had to pull away from him so he could drop your dress on the floor and before you could even come close to reaching out for him again, he was taking a step back.
You could feel his eyes raking down your body. You could feel him taking in the white lingerie on your skin - the strings of the thong high up on your hips, intricate lace around your waist, the small bow right in the centre of it, the bra cups almost transparent, the floral white pattern covering up your nipples, the other few, small bows sown onto the straps.
You sucked in a breath at the look on his face. You hadn't seen that look in far too long.
"God, honey", Bradley groaned, reached for your waist, brushed his thumbs along the lace, ran his fingertips along the lingerie. You bit down on your lip as he pulled you, slowly, carefully, into him - gave you enough time to rest your hands on his chest, your palms against his tank top. "You look sinful. Did you buy that just for me?"
You nodded, swallowed.
"Just for you", you admitted. "Wanted to surprise you."
Bradley tugged you another inch closer, so close that your chest bumped into his, your breasts pressing against him. He let out a hum, his eyes dropping down to your cleavage.
"You did that, pretty girl", he muttered, his fingers digging into your sides. "You're incredible."
Then his lips were on yours again and you were melting, becoming putty in his hands, turning to goo in his arms. Your breaths met, lips parted. You couldn't quite believe you were finally touching him again.
He walked you back to the bedroom, narrowly avoiding the doorway, his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into your bum. You reached for the hem of his shirt, forced him to stop right on the threshold so you could get rid of it - get rid of that one layer of fabric still in the way. You drew back for a second to pull it over his head, to drop it to the floor, to let your eyes travel all over his bare torso.
God, how you'd missed this man and his broad shoulders and his washboard abs. How you'd missed his touch and the sound of his voice.
"Bradley", you gasped softly, your fingertips trailing over his naked skin, down to his shorts. "I need you."
He let out a groan.
"I've waited four months for you to say that again", he muttered. You could hardly take another breath before he was on you again - lips on yours and hands on your hips and your back hit the bed a moment later, the cushy mattress, the fluffy pillows softening your fall.
You raised yourself up onto your elbows so you could watch him as he stood in front of your bed, the sunlight dripping down him like drops of water hitting the floorboards, his torso bare, his curls messed up, looking down at you with a heaving chest, his fingers on his belt, unhooking it, opening the button on his jeans, pulling down his zipper - you swallowed hard as you watched him drop his shorts on the floor, step out of his shoes.
A whine rolled off your tongue.
"Bradley, hurry up", you whimpered, your fingers cramping in the sheets, your legs pressing together all of their own accord, trying to get some kind of friction as he undressed himself in slow motion while you just lay there, your panties long soaked through and your fingers itching to trail down your own body.
Bradley chuckled.
"Don't worry, honey", he muttered, kneeling down on the ground to drop kisses to your calves before pulling off your sandals. "I'll make sure you forget about the past four months, alright?"
Your breath hitched as your heels hit the ground.
"Please", you begged softly. "I've missed you so much."
He wrapped his hands around your hips, pulled you to the edge of the bed - his breath ghosting over your underwear, over that tiny white piece of lingerie you had bought for him, for him to take you apart in. His fingers dug into your skin, spread out wide, to touch as much of you as he possibly could. He pressed a kiss right to that wet spot on your thong.
You let out a moan. God, how had you survived four months without him? You were barely surviving fifteen minutes of not having him fuck you.
Bradley grinned, raised his head to meet your eyes and seriously, you were close. Too close. He hadn't touched you yet, not really. You'd die today, you were sure, die and go to heaven.
"You look almost too good to undress, honey", he muttered, brushing his thumbs below that lace around your waist, not making a move to pull it down your legs.
"Bradley, please", you whined, your hands brushing over your own chest, running over your bra cups, tracing the flowers, desperately holding back from just ripping everything off yourself, pushing him onto his knees and riding him into oblivion. "Don't tease. I need you."
He groaned into the skin of your thigh.
"Anything you want, honey", he muttered - and then your thong was gone and he was burying his tongue inside you, dipping, tracing, licking, circling your clit, breathing you in, devouring you. Taking and giving everything. It had been four months since he'd had you like this and he wanted everything, every inch of you he could get. He wanted to taste you, every last drop of you, wanted to eat you out until you couldn't think anymore, until you had truly, fully forgotten all the time he had been away, all the time you had been forced to be on your own, alone.
You thrashed, moaned above him - your fingers clenching around your bra, brushing over your nipples. You were close. Close after the entirety of three seconds, close to tears, close to coming.
"Bradley", you choked out, tearing your hands off yourself, burying them in his hair instead - tugging him off, tugging him away from you. You took a deep breath as he let go of you, as he loosened his grip on you, looked up at you with desperation in his eyes.
"I need you to fuck me", you whimpered, already too sensitive, too tense. "I need you inside me."
You hadn't had him in four months.
Four months had been enough goddamn foreplay. As much as you loved when he ate you out, you needed him, you needed his cock, you needed to feel him inside you, you needed him to take you apart and make up for all the time lost.
Bradley nodded, nodded because he knew, he understood - he saw the frantic look in your eyes, had felt the desperate drag of your hands at his clothes, his arms, his shoulders, his hair. He'd give anything to you. Everything. He would do whatever you wanted of him.
Maybe in another situation he'd have made you beg more, would have teased you more, would have edged you a few times. Maybe in another situation. But not in this one. Not after four months of being away from you, not when you were so beautifully, so desperately spread out beneath him, looking up at him with wide eyes and rosy cheeks, your lip pulled between your teeth, your gorgeous white lingerie still concealing too much of your skin.
As he'd said, you were almost too gorgeous to undress. But just almost.
So he rose up from the ground, pulled you up with him, pulled you in, his fingers brushing along your sides, your spine, your bra clasp. He let it fall open. You worked fast, worked your bra down your arms and off your hands and drew back from him to fling it against the wall and lay down on the bed, lay down all pretty and waiting.
You needed him to fuck you. Now.
He let out a groan, closed his eyes. The look on his face had you pressing your legs together again. Wetness was coating the inside of your thighs now. It glistened on his moustache. And you were sure you could have tasted it on his tongue too.
He was making you go insane.
"How do you want me, pretty girl?", he asked, pressing his knees into the side of the mattress. "Tell me how and I'll do whatever you want."
Your breath hitched in your throat. Your nerves were bubbling up. Four months. You'd waited four months for this one question.
"Behind", you whined. "Need you from behind."
Bradley had known, of course, because that was what you always said when he stood at the front of your bed and asked you this question. His hands were on your waist, grasping, grabbing, turning you over before you had fully finished speaking, your cheek pressed against the pillows, your breath coming short and shorter, adrenaline pumping through every single one of your veins. You felt hot and sticky and needy and nervous.
Nervous because Bradley stilled.
Nervous because he sucked in a sharp breath.
Nervous, even though you had been here a million times before, in his bed and in yours, bent over desks and bars and couches, with the heat of him behind you, arousal flowing through your body like oxygen, anticipation clouding your mind.
"Shit, honey", Bradley breathed.
You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw.
How you'd have loved to see his expression. But you had known you wouldn't. You had prepared yourself to be satisfied with the sound of his voice, with the feel of him so close to you.
"Shit", Bradley repeated. He took another deep breath in. "You got a tattoo?"
A tattoo.
Your tattoo.
You nodded into the pillow, scraped your cheek against the fabric, so eager, so quick to agree. Four months you had waited for this. Four months since you had begun planning this - the very day after he'd left, in a conversation with none other than Phoenix. Four long, lonely months.
Bradley ran his thumb along the soft expanse of your skin. Along that strip of skin right above your hips, just where they met your back - right above your ass, right where he could see so very perfectly.
He was gentle. Almost not touching you at all. As though he was afraid he could somehow, even after all this time, hurt you, as though he was afraid he could wipe it away.
"It's healed", you whined, breathlessly, trying your hardest not to squirm, not to push back further into him even though you felt like you were going insane. You'd known he'd take his sweet time staring at that inked expanse of skin. But you hadn't known you would be so goddamn desperate for him to fuck you into delirium while he did so. "It's fully healed."
Bradley was quiet, silent behind you. His thumb stilled, stayed still. You sunk your teeth into your lip.
You would truly go mad here. For more than one reason now.
Bradley was always loud. Always moving, always doing something. He was forward and honest and loud and it was a miracle, really, when he wasn't. When he was calm and quiet and still. It didn't always mean something good.
It surely didn't always mean something bad, either.
But it didn't always mean something good.
And you hadn't been nervous. You hadn't been nervous about showing him, because you knew he loved you and he'd love this - this show of him, this show for him. Just for him. But you had still been fidgety. You had still been excited, flustered.... nervous, after all. In a good way. Now, good was turning to less good because he was quiet, for once, quiet and you didn't know what to do, what to say. You had expected him to go feral, had expected him to fuck you raw, to go absolutely ballistic. You had imagined, pictured, visualised it, four months long. Every night that you hadn't been remembering him, you had been imagining this - this moment right here, where he read the words inked forever into your skin, and every time, again and again, your fingers hadn't been enough, your vibrator hadn't been enough, nothing had been enough. Not in comparison to him, to his fingers and his tongue and his cock.
And every time, again and again, when nothing had been enough to replace him, you thought to yourself just how right it had been to have lain on that leather table bed in that tattoo parlour four months ago. Just how right it was to have him marked on your skin like that. Forever.
Great Balls Of Fire.
"Bradley, please", you whimpered, your fingers closing around whatever piece of fabric you could manage to grab at - the covers, the sheets, the pillows. "Say something. Please"
Bradley let out a long breath.
"Great Balls Of Fire?", he asked quietly, his fingers brushing over your skin again. Some kind of reassurance, at least.
"Thought you'd like it", you mumbled into the pillow, stumbling, tripping over your words a bit, still breathless around the edges. You couldn't be expected to talk now. Not when he was so close to giving you what you needed.
"Like it?" His hands wrapped around your waist, his left thumb still stroking over those unfamiliar familiar letters on your skin - Great Balls Of Fire, in his handwriting, taken from one of his sheets of music, from his piano. His song. His father's song.
Your song.
Your song.
Your song.
"Honey", Bradley rasped, pulling you an inch back to him and you let a whine fall from your lips. You were soaked, you were dripping, you were desperate and still so very unsatisfied. "Do I like it? I love it. I love you. God, you got a tattoo. You're incredible. You're-"
He stumbled over his own words, trailed off, left his sentence hanging unfinished in mid air. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss right on top of your tattoo. Right on top of those letters, on top of that song, on top of your song. On top of the very reason you had met, six years ago in a stuffed navy bar.
"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me", he muttered, dropping another kiss onto your skin.
You whimpered again.
"You've been so good to me, honey, haven't you?", he went on, as though he wasn't hearing those little whines, those little moans rolling off your tongue. He was. You knew that. "You waited so prettily for me to come back, didn't you? You were so eager for me to be home again, so eager for me to be with you again that you even got a tattoo?"
You nodded along, nodded and nodded and kept on nodding because yes, yes and yes - yes to everything, yes to him.
"You got a tattoo just for me, honey. You can't even see it. Probably had to twist and turn in the mirror every day to take care of it, didn't you? And all just for me."
You nodded again - never really stopped nodding, not with his fingers brushing along your back, over your skin, with his voice so deep and rough and real.
"Just for you", you whined.
Bradley chuckled.
"Just for me", he repeated, his voice deeper than before - if that was even possible - his fingers stroking along your sides, roaming over your back, your spine. "Such a good girl."
A shiver went through your entire body at that - through your legs, your arms, your shoulders, through every single one of your fingers and toes. He knew just what he did to you when he said that.
He knew.
"Bradley", you moaned, unashamed now, the nerves in your veins long subsided, replaced once more by that all-consuming heat that you could never get enough of.
"Yeah, honey?", he asked. You could hear the grin on his lips. "What do you want?"
You let out a sort of sob that sounded pathetic even to your own ears. It wasn't that you minded begging. Because you didn't. You really didn't. But you had already done so, had already begged him miserably, had told him so prettily how you wanted him to fuck you. And he was starting all over again.
"Just once more, honey", Bradley whispered, dropping kisses to your spine, climbing higher and higher. "Tell me once more and you'll get whatever you want."
"Fuck me", you cried out, burying your face in the pillow, not letting even half a second pass by. Bradley always made good on his promises. And you needed him more than anything right now. "Please fuck me."
He was on you within a heartbeat.
One hand around your waist, pulling you into him, as the other one guided himself into you. He pushed into you in one smooth movement, pushed his hips right to yours, stretched you out like he hadn't in four goddamn months.
You were clenching around him, moaning his name, tears brimming in your eyes at the feeling of him again, finally. He was grunting, groaning behind you, his hands clasping around your waist as he settled deep inside you and let out a breath.
You hadn't felt so stretched out in so long. You hadn't felt him in so long. You needed more. You needed to feel more of him.
"Bradley", you whimpered. "Move."
His fingers dug even firmer into your sides. You bit down on your lip. He felt so good, so heavenly with his hands on your skin and his cock deep inside you, but you needed him to move, you needed him to move now, you needed him to fuck you and make you fall apart for him.
"Need a second, honey", he grunted, running his thumbs along your skin - along your new tattoo, just for this, just for him. "God, pretty girl, you're so tight. Missed you so much."
You whimpered underneath him, whimpered as you forced yourself to keep still for him, even as your thighs burned with the need to move, the need for more, the need to finally come undone around him. You knew you were close already. You could feel it, had been feeling it, dancing around the edges of your perception, melting in your blood, scorching in your stomach.
"Missed you too, Bradley", you moaned into the pillow, breathless and desperate for him. "Want to be good for you. So good."
"God, honey, you are", he groaned. "So good. Perfect."
And then he was moving, finally, and you let out a sobbed kind of prayer, your eyes falling shut, your fingers digging into the sheets as he thrust in and out of you in a slow, steady rhythm - enjoying the feeling of you around him, letting you enjoy the feeling of him inside you.
Just that you couldn't enjoy this.
You couldn't enjoy this because you were wound so tightly, wound so goddamn tightly that tears were pricking in your eyes, threatening to run down your cheeks and drop onto the covers. You needed him to make you fall apart, to make you come, you needed more. Just a little more.
You were teetering on the edge and he had you spiralling with how slowly he was fucking you. You needed him to send you over that edge, not build it higher and higher and higher up.
"Bradley", you whined, stumbling clumsily over his name as he ran a hand up your back. "More."
"Dunno if I can-" He broke off, his breath hitching, his fingers resting on your neck, brushing through your hair. "Fuck, honey, dunno if I can do more without coming."
You bit down on your lip at that, let out a moan so absolutely filthy that you were sure you would have been embarrassed of it if you'd had any more capacity to think - to think of anything other than him, anything other than how this god, who could fuck you for hours on end without tiring once, with so much stamina he could have you sobbing, coming for him four, five times on his cock alone, how this god was so desperate for you after four months that he was worried he'd come if he went any faster.
You were almost pushed over the edge just by that alone.
"I don't care", you cried, because you really didn't. "I don't need long, I need you. I'm so close."
Bradley grunted, his fingers brushing even higher up on your scalp.
"You're gonna be the death of me, honey", he muttered, just before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you up onto your knees - into him, into his arms, your back flush to his chest. You dropped your head against his shoulder with a moan, let your eyes fall shut again.
He thrust up into you with vigor then, with more urgency, with less fear of coming undone, less fear of cutting this short. His hands smoothed over your sides, over your chest, holding you up against him, brushing along your breasts, along your stomach.
And all you could think was yes, this, this was it. This was what you had been imagining, what you had been picturing in a cold, lonesome bed every night, what you had been so desperate for.
His fingers trailed down your thigh, trailed up again, caught on your clit, drew a circle against that little bundle of nerves and you fell forward, doubled over, only held up by him, by his arms around you as you came undone, as you clenched around him.
Four months.
Four months and a tattoo.
And he hadn't even had you there for two minutes, had barely touched you, and now you were falling apart for him, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut, legs burning, fingers cramping. You'd waited four months for this.
You could feel him spilling inside you, noticed it somewhere dancing around the edges of your perception as you gasped for breath, tears stinging your cheeks and your nails digging into your own thighs.
This.
Him.
Bradley's finger had stilled on your clit. You blinked your eyes open, refocused on your green wallpaper, on the pictures, the old vintage polaroids of you and him right above the bed until you could see them all clearly again, until you could see them and realise what they were, until you could manage to tilt your head back and rest it, once more, against Bradley's shoulder. Until you had come back to reality again.
"I missed you so much, honey", he muttered into your ear, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss onto your exposed neck. "Missed this so much."
"Missed you so much too", you mumbled, reached for his hands. He pulled his finger from your clit, let you intertwine your hands with his, rested them carefully on your stomach. "Love you, Bradley."
He pressed another kiss to your neck, his lips warm, oh so warm on your skin, soft and warm and you needed him to kiss you now, to press his lips to yours.
"I love you too, honey", he whispered, halfway to brushing another kiss onto your skin when you turned your head, met his lips with your own, cut him off by surprise.
This was a weird angle, you had to strain your neck to even slot your lips together somewhat well and you were sloppy with it, too, your chest still heaving and your mind returning to clarity just now, but you didn't care, couldn't care, not when he'd just made you come, when he was holding you in his arms, when he was finally here, right behind you again, as though the last four months hadn't happened at all.
When you pulled back, you were feeling more normal again - as normal as you possibly could feel, with him behind you, with him inside you still.
"You got a tattoo", Bradley breathed, a grin dancing around the corners of his lips. You chuckled.
"Just for you", you nodded, brushing your fingertips up his arms, up to his elbows.
Bradley kissed you again, all parted lips and breathing into each other. You felt almost melancholic when he drew back. But he was smiling - and when he smiled, you had to smile too.
"I'm never letting you go again", he said, loosened his grip on you to trail his hands slowly, softly down your body, giving you enough time to steady yourself without him holding you up anymore. "And I'm not letting you leave this bed until the sun comes up, alright, pretty girl?"
You had to bite down on your lip to keep from grinning, anticipation already bubbling in your veins again. You knew he could make good on that promise. And that he probably would.
"Yes, please, Bradley", you muttered, already bending down again, splaying out your hands to catch yourself on the mattress as you showed him your tattoo again, just for him to see, just for him to touch. Just for him. "Whatever you want. As long as you want. I love you."
#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw#top gun#top gun x reader#bradley bradshaw smut#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#rooster bradshaw#rooster bradshaw x reader#x reader
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“im just excited, is all” — or an alt title: roo vs. the australian allegations
who is roo, really? why is roo?
a/n a short one cause if im being honest theres just one tiny explanation and... yeah
or, yknow, alt alt title: daniel’s detective era
THE KANGAROO(KIE) VS. THE WORLD
“WOOOO!! I’M NEVER GONNA DIE!” she yelled into the radio, at this point not even shocking her engineer anymore.
“sure, kid.” he chuckled. “congratulations, again, i’ll see you out.”
as soon as she parked her car, the girl quickly jumped out of her seat and stand on the nose of her car, jumping repeatedly with both her feet going up and down excitedly. it ends with a last hard jump off the car and her hands up in the air, yelling on the top of her lungs.
when suddenly — to everyone’s dismay — she started shuffling. well, attempted, shuffling.
daniel, who had the pleasure of sharing the podium with her and was there to witness it first hand, could not help but unknowingly let his hand fly to his mouth to muffle his laughter. man, he just took off his balaclava, he thought.
then, just his luck, the girl stopped mid-shuffle and looked towards his way and waved at him excitedly before running towards the australian and attacking him in a bear-hug.
of course, the man expected the hug, what he didn’t expect was how strong it was going to be.
he let out a muffled “oof” as soon as she collided with him. daniel did not think he has ever gotten a hug this tight. let alone receiving it from a girl almost half his size.
“congratulations!” she could not get bored of hearing that. making her hug him tighter, “okay, oh, lord, i can’t breathe. please.”
“oh—hehe, sorry.” she immediately let go of the man and ran off—well, more hopped off—to get herself weighed.
the older man could not help but chuckle watching her hop away.
again, really?
the girl could never not get bored of all the demeaning questions that seemed to only be targeted towards her.
unfortunately for them, she was not having it that day.
so here she was, berating a man who was like generations behind her — and everyone else — with the rest of the grid listening, watching in amusement.
they always enjoy watching her absolutely destroying male fossils that walked the paddock. it was free entertainment.
her manager didn’t even stop her anymore — well, he did, usually when he knows she’ll say something completely unhinged and not for viewers ears — he just watches with a proud smile like the rest of the drivers until she eventually runs out of breath, all the while also stealing it from the opposite person.
and now it’s about five minutes later and the room was silent, really soaking in her words.
as usual, daniel was the one to break the silence — his tone doing its best to relief the tension that clouded the room.
“remind me not to piss you off.”
sebastian found his voice when he looked towards daniel, “i really admire her agression.”
“i try.”
the mclaren driver was minding his own business when suddenly he felt someone plop down on the seat next to him.
said person didn’t say anything, they just stared at him blankly for a good few seconds. in return, daniel had the expression equivalent of a question mark.
until eventually he felt a little creeped out, “what do you want?”
her response was… weirder.
“what do you want?”
“…what?”
suddenly, out of nowhere, the twenty-two-year-old pulls out a fanny pack from the side. and when she opened it, they were both met with all kinds of candy.
daniel raised his eyebrows at the girl.
“this stays between us.”
it did, but also no, she had previously already approached alex, mick, lando, and yuki, doing the exact same thing.
“…okay?” he then removed the confused expression on his face to one of curiosity of what’s inside the pack, “you got any haribo?”
“everyone, everyone, everyone!”
the girl hopped over to the group of men, dragging a slightly smaller one with her.
“yes, yes, yes!” replied george.
she the shoved the brunette girl in her arms to the front, holding her by both her forearms from the back.
“i want you all to meet daisy-mae!”
a strings of ‘hi’s and ‘hello’s along with ‘nice to meet you’s were exchanged.
the young driver then noticed a certain australian missing.
“hey where’s dan— DANNY!” she jumped when she saw said man approaching. as usual, she excitedly hopped her way over to him.
he chuckled, “hey, roo.”
at that, she stopped mid-way and looked at him confused, “who?”
“you.”
“huh.”
“you’re like a ‘lil kangaroo, y’know?”
still confused, she was brought out of a daze when she heard loud sounds of agreement from behind her.
“that’s what she is!”
“aw, that’s cute, our little kangaroo…”
“LITTLE?!”
taglist; @treehouse-mouse @disneyprincemuke @yansbolobao @leilanixx @judespoisons @vellicora
hope this didnt disappoint </3
#tine’s roo vs the world#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1#formula one x reader#formula 1#formula one#daniel riccardo x reader#daniel ricciardo
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TOP GUN F1 AU CAUSE IM TRASH
I am obsessed with my silly little au and I decide to make myself happy from time to time so
Maverick’s maiden win is complete chaos, but honestly it’s exactly what everyone expected
It’s the second race of the year, his second race with Ferrari
He was a little disappointed he didn’t win the first race but you know what they say, he’s not superstitious but the curse might just be a thing so he lets it go, maybe the universe was actually trying to help him for once
Quali has never been his strong suit, quali is about precision, maverick needs those other 19 drivers to fight, he needs room to improvise, he needs uncertainty, he needs battles, he needs to interact with others on track so that he can eventually beat them
Iceman is a fucking beast on quali, always has been, makes sense doesn’t it
Race day, Maverick is starting fourth, not what he expected but still good, it’s lights out and away he fucking goes
He’s like a man possessed, he can hear his race engineer giving him orders on the radio but he’s way too focused on his task, he knows his car, he tells them what to do… yeah they don’t appreciate that
Fighting Ice is the challenge he wanted
He knows what they say about him, ice cold, no mistakes, right? But maverick knows that this man is just like him, he’s desperate for victory, so when ice pushes, he pushes back
He crosses the finish line after almost causing maybe five crashes, ignoring several team orders and getting yelled at for ignoring said team orders, but he crosses the finish line as a race winner
Now… maverick knows Ice, everyone knows Ice, he’s a legend in the making or something like that, but they’ve never actually interacted
He puts his feet on the ground and Ice immediately grabs him by the shoulders, Mav still has his helmet on, Ice doesn’t, and he can see the anger and frustration in his eyes, he’s sweaty and tired but he still hold Mav tight as he demands an explanation
“What the fuck were you thinking Mitchell? That bullshit you just pulled could’ve gotten all of us killed” Mav soddenly becomes aware that everyone is watching them
He tries to act relaxed, like he isn’t being basically threatened by another driver, he smiles and then remembers he still has his helmet on, so he chuckles instead “But it didn’t”
Ice takes a step back, people don’t laugh at him, people are usually intimidated by his cold and slightly aggressive attitude, but this little bastard seems to be enjoying this shit “You’re dangerous, I don’t like that”
“if you don’t like dangerous then maybe you should’ve chosen a different line of work Ice… man” Maybe he’s delusional, he can blame the exhaustion of the race, but he thinks he sees a hint of a smirk in Ice’s face
“I won’t risk my life more than I already do because some cowboy like you decided to go suicidal mid race” and with that he walks away
Maverick watches him go and he knows, he knows that this is it, this is what everyone in this sport wants, someone that can fight them, someone that will do anything to understand them in order to beat them
Everyone wants a rival, Mav thinks he just found his, and he gets the feeling that Ice agrees
The media fucking loves it
“He tries to act relaxed, like he isn’t being basically threatened by another driver” what I’m trying to say is that Mav thinks it’s hot, he’s horny, he wants to fu—
I can’t write fanfiction so I do this instead, I think I’ll do one for the daggers cause like…. Come on it’s too good
Also someone called me out on the Leclerc and Verstappen parallels and like fuck you you are 100% right
Here’s the first part -> x
#don’t mind me continuing to make useless hcs for my au that is made for myself and like 50 other people at best#Mav is such a suicidal bastard like… HE GIVES OFF LECLERC VIBES OK?! he’s emotionally wrecked and he’s a demon on track#icemav#top gun#top gun f1 au#delete later#don’t know yet guys#probably won’t cause it’s my baby but idk#Pete Mitchell#Tom Kazansky
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which came first for you the michigan fleet blacks or the welding sheets blacks
i've been a welder and worked in manufacturing for about five years now, so a lot of the technical and mechanical details of the fleet were drawn from my own experience in that kind of environment-- my coworkers are awesome and creative people, but don't do blue collar labor, so.
the main uniform color american men wear in construction and trades is actually blue jeans and a random t-shirt, or navy blue and/or light blue uniform shirts if their job contracts with laundry service. after a century of blue jeans, indigo is such a neutral, default color in our culture that it's pretty much invisible.
but in the michigan fleet, navy blue was already the uniform color of Security, while light blue is (i think-- im already forgetting!) the color of Administration. olive/army green is agriculture, and engineers get flashy white labcoats. so manufacturing would have to be black and/or browns. we decided 'technicians'-- highly skilled maintenance and repair-- should get a grey overshirt, to indicate higher status. unskilled labor is for 'operatives.'
i personally like wearing all black to work because it doesn't show the soot and iron dust as much as blue jeans. and also because i can go 'hehe work blacks :)'
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Ooh I'd love your DVD commentary on Let's go back and/or Projecting
Thank you!! I already wrote some commentary on “Let's go back, let's go back and start again” (you can read it here), so I thought I might try this with “Projecting”.
I wrote this B7 fic for the Femslash Exchange last year and as I've mentioned before, it rekindled my enthusiasm for fic writing in a moment when I thought I'd lost it for good. At its heart, it is a '5 things'-type of fic, with the gimmick of the rock climbing holoprogram which is what allows B'Elanna and Seven to see past their preconceptions and not fall into their usual adversarial dynamic. Maybe a good holodeck program is just what they always needed—they can express their competitive streak by hauling themselves up walls rather than stepping on each other's toes on the clock.
DVD extras-style commentary under the cut!
“You accepted the dare. It’s out of my hands now,” she says, lifting up her palms and leaning back on her chair.
As I've hinted a lot of this fic is about the idea of 'friendly competition', and how I think B'Elanna thrives on it. I've met a lot of people over the years who just appreciate being actually challenged by other people, as opposed to more abstract type of challenges (eg 'getting better at x hobby'). So here we have a newly-single, hopelessly under-stimulated B'Elanna, playing a game of dares with Harry in an attempt to stave off the existential dread.
Harry grimaces. “Here goes nothing.” He tips up the mug quickly and downs the content in five long gulps. He slams the mug back on the table, eyes tightly squeezed shut. He swallows again. “So—bitter.”
B’Elanna smirks. “Enough to make you gag. Unless you’ve been drinking that stuff since you were a little kid.”
The dare itself is... somewhat specific, Harry is having the same experience I had when I tried eating the EXTREMELY bitter shoots of Ruscus aculeatus aka butcher's broom, a spiny underbrush plant that's fairly common in Europe (although eating its shoots is not quite as common, ime). My wife is used to them since she was a child and has no problem eating them but they genuinely made me gag by how bitter they were. I thought it would be funny to come up with a similar Klingon delicacy!
B’Elanna suppresses a groan. She wishes she were better at making Harry understand that being the head of a whole department is—different. She has to maintain some distance, or she won’t be able to keep giving orders and override disagreements. Maybe it is more for her own sake than the rest of the engineers, but so what. She needs to not spend so much of her time off duty with the same people she sees every day on the shift. Climbing sounded like the ideal compromise between a challenging hobby and her overbearing boss’ idea of a good pastime, but it turns out that doing it alone sucks out both the fun and what Chakotay thought was beneficial about it. She probably should just give up on the idea entirely.
Being on a starship for so many years with the same hundred other people, so many of whom are your subordinates, must be so stressful! Not even taking into consideration the 'every day we might die'-type of deal the Voyager crew finds itself in. I'm surprised every day that B'Elanna doesn't snap. I think not having the experience of managing a whole department is an interesting difference between Harry and her—and also why he doesn't quite get her reservations here.
Ha, Harry did not think this through. This is easy. She inhales deeply, fixes her gaze on Harry and a smile on her lips.
“Alright then,” she says. “Watch this.”
... and then she fails miserably in front of him, lol. In my head this whole scene is called 'B'Elanna slips on a banana peel' and this bit of dialogue is a reflection of that.
“Are books not to your liking, Lieutenant?”
Not even a minute inside and Seven is already at it. B’Elanna inhales and exhales, counting to five. “I like reading well enough, I just meant that I don’t think climbing technique is suited to being learned from a book. It’s much easier showing it in person, and trying it out for yourself.”
I love when they get snippy... I don't think Seven ever does this maliciously but she is often way too blunt, and B'Elanna is very defensive by nature. Talking it out is rarely a setup that can work between them, imho.
“I don’t think you will have much trouble with this holoprogram. William Chapman climbs one-handed sometimes, now that he’s recovering from a shoulder injury. He seems to have no problem hanging out with the rest of his bouldering buddies.”
Seven’s eyes widen, and she gapes. Whoops, wrong thing to say.
“I mean, not that it’s the same situation as yours,” B’Elanna amends. She can feel herself getting tangled up in intricacies she’s not equipped to navigate, so she stands up quickly.
The whole thing about the Borg implants making Seven 'stronger' has always been a bit iffy to me. Sure they may make her more resilient and faster and have better reflexes etc., but also make her interactions with the crew and the ship not easily predictable. Obviously the Borg scifi crap makes this a very imperfect metaphor, but to me there's space to interpret Seven's implants as actual prosthetics that have both pros and cons, so that's what I did in this fic. Climbing gyms were definitely not made with people who use prosthetics in mind, but there absolutely are disabled climbers. Here B'Elanna is afraid of having compared two different situations inappropriately, but in reality Seven is blanking because she's the one who caused Chapman's injuries, as well as having indirectly contributed to Janeway's. The conundrum Seven finds herself in won't be clear to B'Elanna for a while.
B’Elanna sighs, raising the heel of a chalky hand to her forehead. “You generally discuss strategies before and after an attempt. I’m sure there are people who find running commentary useful, but I’m not one of them.”
I hesitate to call what I did in preparation for this fic 'research' on rock climbing, but this is a common refrain when you look for 'rock climbing etiquette'—don't give climbers unwanted advice, especially not as they climb. I feel like this is something Seven would need to be reminded of, her Borg conceit coming through very often in grating ways.
Seven nods, acknowledging her words. “Then I propose structuring the way we exchange information. A game, if you will.”
This conversation is going in the wildest directions. B’Elanna crosses her arms on her chest, considering Seven. “I wouldn’t have guessed you’re the type for games.”
“You forget that I have been regularly spending time with Naomi Wildman.”
Ha, I'm very fond of this back-and-forth. For one, I wanted Seven to be the one to reach out and try to mend things between them, and second I love her attempts at jokes. B'Elanna isn't usually very impressed by them, but I think Seven sometimes is able to catch her off guard, and this in one of those cases.
Oh, it’s on now. Because of course it is a game, therefore a contest within the larger contest of climbing side by side. Trying to delay its start might very well be an admission of defeat.
Oh she absolutely can't let Seven gain the upper hand, even it means meeting her on the holodeck again :)
Seven is implacable. “Why did you fall?”
“I wasn’t strong enough,” B’Elanna grumbles as she pats her legs, with little success in removing the chalk.
“We previously agreed that that is not an acceptable answer,” Seven points out.
Here Seven and B'Elanna are bringing their little game one step further. It's a challenge I've seen climbers do with each other, and explicitly avoiding saying stuff like 'not strong enough' was part of it as well. I think B'Elanna would jump to say "I failed because I'm not ___ enough", and I loved writing Seven's exactitude counter that impulse. It's a way in which their respective jagged edges can fit together pretty neatly, and actually help each other grow.
B’Elanna is taken aback. It had not occurred to her that the two of them were fairly equal in more than just climbing ability, but Seven has a point. B’Elanna hates to think of herself as ‘stronger than the average humanoid’—the phrase is just the kind of inaccurate crap that seems to stick perniciously well to Klingons—but she has had her share of strife because of it. She always stood out among humans, especially as a child, when she couldn’t yet tell when people were falsely blaming her and her supposedly superhuman strength to clear themselves of any responsibility. Seven’s situation isn’t exactly the same, it’s more about Seven not having quite figured out how to fine-tune her interactions with others—but then again she’s had what, two years of Borg-free life? B’Elanna doesn’t blame her for wanting a space where she doesn’t have to hold back at all and nothing horrible will happen to the people around her. It explains a few other things, too.
“Is this why you accepted to try out this holoprogram with me?”
“Yes. And I had not yet found a suitable replacement activity for the Velocity holoprogram.”
That’s a candid admission alright. B’Elanna can’t even be mad, she had wanted to find a new gym buddy just as much, hadn’t she? And she only asked Seven because Harry dared her to.
This bit is the heart of the fic. It's B'Elanna seeing Seven... well not exactly for the first time, but with fresh eyes. I know this kind of understanding is its own trope in B7 fic but here I've tried to keep it lowkey. It's a very mundane realization, and the way they admit to each other that they've started climbing together for their own selfish reasons gives them a possibility for a fresh start as well.
“What, because I’m shorter?” B’Elanna sneers. Oh Seven, such an underhanded move. “Hold that thought until I learn to dyno properly—once I can jump from one hold to the next I’m going to destroy you.”
Seven’s eyes glint in the fluorescent glow of the gym. “I will endeavor to be prepared for that eventuality. Shall I attempt the last climb of our session?”
B’Elanna crosses her arms on her chest. “Be my guest,” she says, and it’s a taunt.
And well, the fresh start is full of connotations :) They don't know it yet and are a ways off from realizing it, but I wanted to write the first hints of the actual attraction developing between them here.
Yes, maybe the disagreements she and Seven have had in the past have been explosive. And very public. But that’s part of the problem, isn’t it? It’s the reason why B’Elanna can’t think of their bouldering sessions as just climbing anymore—it’s also somewhere far away from the crowd, with none of the expectations the rest of the ship puts on them. A place that challenges the both of them so thoroughly that it clears the field from the debris of any of their past interactions, and that leaves B’Elanna exhausted and with a feeling of accomplishment and exhilaration she’s been hard pressed to find in a very, very long time.
The confrontation with Chakotay is a central part of this fic as well because it's the first time B'Elanna is forced to admit that something is happening to her since she started bouldering with Seven. Again, she's not quite there yet—but she's finding that she just likes spending the time on the holodeck, and that it makes her feel more alive than she has in a long time. Good hobbies with good people will do that to you! (ngl, I might've been talking about my own relationship with writing fic as a hobby here.)
I said this before but the theme of 'space' is something I come back to over and over when writing B7, and this isn't the first time I wrote it in a fic. I think B'Elanna and Seven would only be able to connect if they were somehow untethered from the ship and its existing hierarchy and interpersonal dynamics. Here it's the holodeck—perhaps it's the Kira/Dax shipper in me that thinks of holograms as a space where women can realize their mutual attraction, lol.
Chakotay makes a face and fixes his eyes on the bulkhead. “I really don’t want to know what you could possibly mean by that. Nope. Not images I want in my head. Please just keep it in the holodeck.”
I loved having Chakotay immediately jump to the conclusion that if B'Elanna and Seven aren't wrestling in the holodeck then they must be fucking, no matter what B'Elanna said about rock climbing. No other option possible! To be fair, B'Elanna being so sincere with him is not a common occurrence, I bet; it probably means something really earth-shattering is happening behind the doors of Holodeck 1. (And he's not wrong!)
B’Elanna wonders if she’s just created a monster. Falling off the wall from laughing too hard doesn’t seem such a terrible prospect, though.
I'm losing it a little rereading this scene—probably my favorite one to write. B'Elanna and Seven being now comfortable enough with each other that their back and forth is mostly wry joking... Truly the ideal B7 dynamic to me. Here there are also more hints that whatever there is between them is turning into actual attraction—Seven is trying so hard to keep B'Elanna in the holodeck a little longer, and B'Elanna is noticing Seven's physicality more and more. I tried to not make the latter part too trite, though—what B'Elanna notices about Seven is the way she lets herself appear 'less than perfect' in order to keep up with B'Elanna, and the way she's obviously becoming stronger.
Seven shakes her head. “I share your discomfort with the custom.”
“Is this because one of your dates ended up in sickbay?” B’Elanna teases.
Seven sighs, rather theatrically. “Is your disillusionment due to the end of your relationship with Tom Paris?” she deadpans.
I rewatched “Someone To Watch Over Me” recently and boy do I hate that episode—yet this fic assume its events have happened fairly recently! But I couldn't pass the opportunity to link Chapman's injuries to Seven's issues with interacting with the rest of the crew. And I still made my point against the episode anyway here—what allows Seven to understand whatever 'dating' is for (and that it's not something she cares for) is a frank discussion with B'Elanna, rather than any of the Doctor's methods.
B’Elanna is not dense. Of course the possibility had crossed her mind before—how could it not, with the kind of intense feelings Seven always seems to stoke in her? They’ve traded rivalry for friendly competition, but the all-consuming quality of their interactions hasn’t changed. It doesn’t take much of a leap to get from there to unfulfilled sexual tension.
Originally this scene was very different, it would've involved Tom making an off-hand comment about B'Elanna and Seven spending so much time together and B'Elanna realizing that she doesn't mind the implications so much (and replying to Tom in kind). It came too close to character-bashing though, and that's boring. I liked having B'Elanna trying to be pragmatic about the crush she's so obviously nursing now, and which she hates having with every fibre of her being.
It’s as if the gravity plating had suddenly reversed its polarity, and B’Elanna had no way to stop walking on the ceiling. It’s impossible for her to hear Seven’s gravelly voice greeting her in front of the holodeck door without a shiver. Whenever Seven is spotting her, or helping her up, B’Elanna is painfully aware of every square centimeter of skin that’s in contact with Seven’s. Half of their sessions is following closely from below as the other puts all of her skill and effort into reaching the top—B’Elanna’s mouth has never felt drier than when watching Seven hoisting herself up on an overhang, deltoid muscles conspicuous as she competently pivots her whole body to the next hold. The frustration of being reduced to a mass of unfulfilled wants makes B’Elanna climb so sloppily in comparison and every time she’s back on the mat there Seven is, relentlessly asking ‘why did you fall?’.
I really do love this paragraph. The experience of a crush is so intense, and so annoying when you're over 25. B'Elanna would be so frustrated by it, and it was very funny to lay out that frustration. imho B'Elanna is a pretty closed off person both emotionally and physically; it's hard for her to live as truly connected, 'in' the world. But suddenly she's acquiring all this sensory information almost against her own will, all because of a crush emotional red alert. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once. I absolutely think she loves Seven's voice (relatable), and in other fic I've talked about her having distinct associations for the way Seven smells, so it's... a bit of a theme.
“B’Elanna,” Seven cries out from behind her. “What is it that you’re practicing right now?”
One of the comments on this fic rightly recognized this as the turning point—Seven here is kind of panicking and doing a bit of a hail mary, but it's the right thing to say, and it snaps B'Elanna right out of the self-recrimination spiral she was in. They've gotten to know each other pretty well over the course of the fic, and this both allows Seven to remind B'Elanna of a genuine moment of connection, and for her part B'Elanna doesn't really doubt Seven's intentions, even if she's taken aback.
B’Elanna laughs. She has to, because Seven is still so unmistakably herself even as her poise is showing cracks. B’Elanna finds out then and there that she would not have Seven any other way, occasional condescension included—B’Elanna can and will always give her tit for tat. And there are so, so many new exciting possibilities for retaliation now.
There sure are :) The Voyager crew doesn't know yet what hit them, with B'Elanna and Seven getting together... <3
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2x19 of FBI (only watching for ms. hailey upton)
bro
that starting??
scared the ever-loving shit out of me
it was so graphic???
what for??
why??
oooo
haileyyyy
my girl looks so GOOD
i don't understand how its possible for someone to look that pretty
i don't
its not fair
this OA guy is kinda...
he’s um...
idek him at ALL
and im kinda
*debby ryan hair tuck*
*clears throat* anyways
he’s also really tall???
how tall is this actor???
BRO THE ACTOR IS 6′ 5″(1.96m)???
WHAT
UM
IM FIVE FOOT ZERO
WHAT THE FUCK
moving on
the guy who made the hamilton reference???
love him
don't even know his name
love him
20 seconds into their partnership and its not going well
hailey immediately calling him out and then acting casual by saying ‘which car? this one?’
OA being extremely awkward and trying to justify??
not rlly sure how i feel about that
‘any observations?’
‘pizza’s too thin. it’s like a cracker with sauce on it. just tryna keep it real.’
heR SMILE AFTER SHE SAYS THAT IS SO BEAUTIFUL
and also
that’s such a chicago thing to say LMAOO
and then OA’s face of ‘ah, well, um. o-okay? what do i do now?’
‘it’s a new york thing’
‘it felt like a cop vs fed thing’
‘what's that supposed to mean?’
‘you think youre better than us.’
*cackling*
OA LOOKS LIKE HES ASKING FOR HELP
im loving how blunt hailey is and we’re only 4 minutes into the episode
his impressed face after hailey says ‘sikh’ is fantastic
my girl is so lovely
ofc the indian victim is top of his class and in america to pursue engineering
not rlly sure if im reading into it but eh
not rlly liking the stereotypes
but then again
hes the victim
we don't rlly need too much of his backstory
this lady talking to professor is really pretty???
mY GOD SHES BEAUTIFUL
i don't even know her name
but she's absolutely stunning
is the professor involved in this??
why do i feel like he is???
frank prichard?
more like frank PRICKard amiright?
OA’s ‘excuse me’ in that low voice??? SEGGSY
also
frank
you can go jump off a cliff
hailey lowkey looking like she wants to shoot him is a mood bc SAME
oh, he's got pictures of the ones he thinks are “suspicious” (note the sarcasm)
yea
im not at all pissed off
both OA and hailey shooting him a death glare???
*chefs kiss*
the embodiment of bisexual panic actually
‘he’s an indian. not an arab’
‘kinda the same thing right?’
no tf its not
and if you don't shut your whore mouth, frank
im gonna pull out your teeth, one by one
hailey’s authoritative ‘NOW’
oh
my
god
ma’am
im not strong enough
that was so...
*slowly gets on knees*
hailey stepping closer and threatening frank is doing something to me
frank looking up at OA and being met with an extremely sexy death stare??
we love it
im already loving this partnership
‘do you understand?’
MAAM PLEASE
THIS IS TOO MUCH
also
i love seeing frank nearly piss his pants
their slight banter is great
they could be besties
i want them to be besties
hailey saying FBI gave me shock
didn't expect to hear that
‘thirty-years-old, male, likes to party’
*hailey nodding as if that gives a lot of information’
how the hell does she shove him??
dude’s a fuckin mountain of pure muscle
how??
OA lowkey sounds like jay tho
like his voice and jay’s are rlly similar to me
HAILEY CASUALLY JUMPING OVER THE CAR???
MISS MA’AM
THIS ENTIRE EPISODE IS JUST GONNA BE ME THIRSTING OVER HAILEY, ISN’T IT???
why did the ‘oh. okay. cool. you’re welcome.’ make me laugh?
OA looks like he wants to shake hailey by the shoulders and ask her what her deal is
‘so the neighbors loved him’
‘exactly’
i love how FBI (from what I can tell) is more humorous than chicago pd even tho the FBI is supposed to be more strict than cpd
this woman
the same woman that talked to the professor
is so
P R E T T Y
how is everyone in this show so attractive??
its not fair
im tryna watch for the plot
and yet
im getting distracted
hailey looks fine as fuck in all black
her smug little ‘i think i can do that’ makes me nervous for what she's about to do
‘kiss my ass, blondie’
bro’s got no idea what he’s started
Hailey looking over to OA and silently asking for permission to go batshit crazy??
love to see it
OA’s smile when hailey makes the threat
it’s great
i want them to be besties
really
i need it actually
who is this maggie
is this who hailey is ‘replacing’ in this episode??
wait
are they dating??
cuz OA’s face looks a bit lovestruck
hailey immediately caught onto their relationship
i know it
the look on her face said everything
she’s relating it to her and jay
oh he’s definitely in love with maggie
its obvious
this girl that hailey’s questioning??
i think she knows something
her responses are too fake
hailey can sense it too, im pretty sure
oh my god
there's another dead body
oh no
its the roommate??
isn't it??
oh wait
its not
hailey taking charge
as much as i love the idea of sergeant halstead
sergeant upton has a better ring to it
*shrugs*
just saying
ohhh
there's the roommate
OA and hailey
again
being the best duo
its so funny to me how its only been a little more than half of an episode and im already invested in these characters
I FUCKIN KNEW THAT LADY WAS INVOLVED
I KNEW IT
oh wait
is that a wedding ring on OA’s hand???
it looked like one
ive rewinded that part five times
i still can't tell if its a wedding ring or not
I K N E W I T
SHES INVOLVED
this interrogation room is so dark and lowkey scaring me
‘he’s a good person’
ma’am, please
your boyfriend may have killed two people
gimme a break
‘you don't know him like i do’
it’s giving ‘i can fix him’ vibes
‘in love’
‘more like dumb love’
‘what’s the difference’
hailey’s in her feels about jay
i know it. i knOW IT. I KNOW IT.
hailey
whatre you gonna do
don't do anything stupid
hailey
hailey
please
oh my gOD
the dAD
things just escalated real quick
irrelevant and SO not the moment but hailey looks so good in that lighting
ms. upton taking the lead
something i love to see, honestly
shE LOOKS SO GOOD
IM SO FUCKIN DISTRACTED
SHE LOOKS SO G O O D
TW: ABUSE, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, GASLIGHTING. IF YOU ARENT COMFORTABLE, SKIP UNTIL YOU SEE THE NEXT BOLDED PART.
oh shit
it’s an abusive relationship
oh no
hailey
oh poor girl
poor hailey
she can't have a break can she??
not even on a different show
she needs to suffer
why must they do this
its hurting me
her past with her father always kills me
very casual OA
questioning her
so so casual
bro’s so blunt it’s funny
and then he realises that what he said isn't appropriate and apologies
he so sweet
hes like a giant teddy bear
in case it wasn’t clear
i hate lucas reed
with every fibre of my being
he’s an abusive asshole
and srsly???
dude!!
STOP BEING SUCH A SELFSH ASS
harper’s strong
i feel so bad for her
agh
the gaslighting
no
i...
just no
BRO JUST SNATCHED THE BAG
NO REMORSE
NONE
OH MY GOD
CONGRATULATIONS YOU MADE IT THROUGH. PLEASE REMEMBER THAT YOU CAN ALWAYS ASK FOR HELP. I LOVE YOU. STAY SAFE.
HARPER’S GONNA GET SHOT ISNT SHE
oh thank god
oh poor harper
thiS IS SO EMOTIONAL
it’s funny to me how OA has to literally bend his head all the way down in order to get into the car
the impressed look on OA’s face plus his cute little ‘okay, chicago’ is something to live for
hailey being super casual about it as if she didn’t impress literal FBI agents
we love a humble queen
who’s gonna make the drop?
is it gonna be harper??
they can't leave the poor girl alone, can they???
oh god
this is gonna make me cry
im super nervous for this
harper
you got this
not liking this dude
don't use the nicknames man
don't do it
its disgusting
OA is close to freaking out bc of hailey
the look on his face says, ‘you better know what youre doing’
nopenopenopenopenope
stay the hell away from her
stop being creepy
YES HARPER
YOU GOT IT
hailey’s smile
it is absolute happiness
im in love
i could live off of photos of her smiling, i swear
OH MY GOD
WHAT THE FUCK
IS SHE DEAD????
oh god
oh thank god
i thought she was dead
i swear to fucking god
OA sounds E X A C T L Y like jay
haileyyyy
my loveee
OA and hailey friendship
their banter
we love to see it
hailey stop being humble
bro
do we not get to see them become besties????
like???
WE COULDVE AT LEAST HEARD THE REASON WHY HE BECAME A FED
oh god
im gonna binge watch this series, aren't i?
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BL tag game
thanks for the tag, @ragingbyesexual ! it was like five days ago oopsieeeee
All-Time Favorite BL Character and Why?
white! it's my special baby boy white who is yes, frankly, a little bit dumb for the whole "wait 👁👄👁 having a diplomat dad means i have an unfair advantage trying to join the civil service? there's a thing called 'privilege'" when my man is at least 20 and has literally got a polisci degree. but i love him.
(honorable mentions: pharm and manaow from uwma and aoey and tiffy from lovely writer)
One Character You Want to Punt Into the Stratosphere
i'm going to say literally every character that's like, the "shipper on board (derogatory)" type. not the ones who are just "teehee you guys'd be cute!" but... you know the type. the sister from whyru, ones like her.
Best Music Moment
seanwhite's oeoeoeoeoe song. everlast. you guys know 😭
A Popular Het Text You'd Like To See As A BL
persuasion! not the way netflix did it 💀 but it's my fave austen novel by far and, crucially, the characters literally have to be proper adults lol... it's important that they broke up eight years ago when they were young adults and now they know themselves better. the ANGST is ideal and lets be clear: i would definitely want the love interest to be as much of a dick as wentworth, flirting with a pair of significantly younger siblings riiiiight in front of our anne.
apparently i have strong opinions on this.
BL Scene that Makes Me Laugh
p much every product placement scene, especially the theory of love video game one where third's like "no, i'd shoot you in real life too".
Biggest Disappointments
LOVELY WRITER... i loved aoey (love me a boy who cries a lot and just wants to bake hi aoey hi tar hi non) and i loved tiffy until the "actually you're gay" plot but otherwise that show was...
2 Random Characters That Would Make Hilarious Exes
manaow and gram, like a high school thing, i think they would have gotten into Situations fdjdnffd
Who Would Be The Funniest People to Watch A BL with and Which One?
my friend who made me watch a formula one race. fair is fair im making you watch my engineer (i have already explained not me in literal scene-by-scene detail while they watched formula one. it was very "neurodivergent children who like to do parallel play" fjdjnfjndf)
Best Wardrobe Moment? Character or Otherwise
omgggg im gonna be An Homosexual about this: eugene's croptop+leggings looks jesus fucking christ. christ alive she is so sexy.
(non-character: both gun and love going blond/e was Iconique)
i have no idea who hasn't been tagged yet - @disaster-j and @surajmukhis and also, like, anyone who wants to i guess
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tw; teenager talking about her father in a quite harsh way (also her mom), noise sensitivity ig, not being able to recover from dad shouting at her, just overall useless rambling and venting
i (sometimes) feel like my dad feels superior to my mom just because he's like an engineer something and my mom's a teacher. he says he's always working on something, like, sir, you can't work all five days off the week and go out to get beer and watch the total shit show of a game called football on some restaurant's tv while screaming and shouting and not spend the same, SAME AMOUNT OF TIME WITH YOUR WIFE AND KIDS. i feel like he's been guilt tripping (or whatever ppl call it) my mom to do stuff (for my sister and me when we asked him) by saying "but i work all five days for blah blah blah hours and it tires me" or something along those lines while being able to shout at our tv about how shitty his team is playing football and making me, my sister and my mom uncomfortable. that man also has the audacity to call me dramatic when i tell him that the noise from the tv bother me while im trying to sleep (since i sleep in like a balcony that's connected to the living room). it's like he's being annoying on purpose. because no, im not happy to listen to your goddamn show about some mentally ill lady with her two autistic and three unstable kids trying to kill their father, that's fucking pathetic. so shut the fuck up and go to sleep or watch it in the kitchen, you dumb imbecile. it's not that deep you drama king. fucking smashed testicle of a dead cat. he spends more time outside than with his wife. im not even talking about his kids. he really upsets and has the nerve to call me a drama queen. ME? A DRAMA QUEEN? i doubt that pathetic excuse of a man has ever met someone dramatic. im going harsh on him, i know, but he really gets me upset. especially me, a really introverted and awkward person who's afraid of rejection and disapproval, talks about their feelings for once in two years finally opens up and his only response is "you're being dramatic, it's not that deep.". it is, to me. i just wish he could see how that impacted me and i've been upset for two days already. i hate disapproval, but my feelings aren't validated, let alone noticed in the household im supposed to feel safe and seen in. my mom doesn't help much, either, she does tell me im dramatic. she also tells me that im just learning how to behave by the media i consume. hello? i hardly watch anything. i don't have the patience to watch stuff, i get bored. i don't feel safe at school, not at home, never outside, not some restaurant, not my room, nowhere. there's not a single place i feel safe in. and it's bad. im probably just being dramatic rn but it's true, i don't feel safe or happy anywhere. the school is too noisy, and so is anywhere public, my dad's just overall voice tone sounds pissed and i think im scared of him by that. and probably by the time i didn't answer his calls and he came home and shouted at me with my mom because he was "scared" and i've been sensitive to noise ever since. and i don't even remember him apologizing. not even once. whatever, i just have to make it to friday and ill have a day to rest.
#vent post#i hate it here#emotional neglect#noise sensitivity#mitski#turkish households i guess#not feeling safe#i genuinely want to feel safe in my own house please just let me#overly dramatic girl vents lmao#drama i guess
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11 Robot Development Trends
The continuing development of robotics will largely depend upon related industries: the science of materials and advances in computer products. Analysts have identified the principle trends on the market for one more 5 years.
People tend to overestimate the impact of the latest technology sooner and underestimate its impact eventually.
But this doesn't negate the truth that the expert community, the state of hawaii and business require a roadmap for the progression of innovative industries later on.
The authors in the annual survey with the home and industrial robots market discussed with experts the essential trends in this region plus the report for 2021 presented 11 areas that in the next five-years may have the best effect on the progression of robotics on the globe.
1. New materials
Even if we consider the simplest industrial manipulators, in 2019 there are approximately 3.5 thousand people per robot, this also ratio is unlikely to develop without radical changes in the science of materials where robotics is produced, the authors from the review are sure. They pay special awareness of two promising materials:
gallium nitride (GaN), that may successfully replace silicon for transistor manufacturing;
graphene, a super-thin and super-strong material where it's possible to produce actuators for robots, new batteries and much more.
2. New sources of energy, technologies due to the collection and storage
Considering how much heat generated with the combustion of gasoline along with the human dependence on energy, it is easy to calculate that when people were eating gasoline, they'd only need 150 g of fuel each day. In turn, electric motors have become even less power efficient than an internal combustion engine. In order for robots so that you can take on humans in their capabilities, breakthrough technologies are essential within their energy supply.
For example, this is the improvement of current lithium batteries, the creation of new batteries determined by hydrogen, and so forth. Also, we must take into account about alternative, alternative energy. Finally, a technology might be carried out to recharge the robot remotely, for example, from sources of energy constructed into a floor or walls.
3. Interaction of groups of robots and people
These are unmanned traffic management systems. To avoid accidents and accidents, transport robots should have a channel of communication both with humans with one another.
4. Navigation in extreme conditions
Robots should be aware what they're doing and where these are moving not merely under normal human conditions, but also where people just cannot make it happen: by way of example, in high altitude or on the seabed.
In addition, situations can not be excluded once the robot will continue to be completely without communication (for example, underground or perhaps in case of a satellite breakdown). In this case, you should produce a fully autonomous navigation system for unmanned devices. Similar developments already exist both abroad along with Russia.
5. Machine learning
The growth and development of artificial intelligence is important to generate truly useful and "smart" robots. Over the next few years, Sberbank analysts identify four fundamental vectors of development in this area:
increasing the efficiency of using neural networks by causing their architecture more technical or reducing power consumption;
teaching algorithmic procedures instead of hard programming, that can simplify and, therefore, improve the whole process of acquiring skills by the machine;
mass adoption of cloud services for machine learning;
improvement of motional actions of robots due to artificial intelligence technologies.
Make The Machine Think: How Artificial Intelligence Is Developed
6. Human-machine interaction
The robot economy, like all other innovative technologies, is approximately increasing productivity. That is, automation is just not a conclusion alone, but a tool to improve economic efficiency. The authors from the review tend to think that the best result will be shown not by replacing people with robots, but by their cooperation. According to them, the interaction of robots and humans will establish in four main areas:
a robot as a tool that repeats human capabilities (for instance, exoskeletons and prostheses);
robot as a tool that expands human capabilities;
an avatar robot, which is, a machine remotely controlled by way of a an affiliate hard-to-reach places;
social interaction using a person, such as voice assistants and chat bots.
The Emotional Robot: How a Startup is Changing the Customer Communications Industry
7. Manipulation robotics
The authors of the Sberbank report believe within the next five years were unlikely to determine a breakthrough in hardware technologies for robots ("hardware"), however the growth and development of software will heighten the capabilities and lower the expenses of manipulation technology.
First of, were discussing helping the feedback of sensors. Outdoor AGV , grabbing a thing, can have to inform the operator in greater detail about its weight, dimensions, compression force, etc. Also, new computer technologies can make it possible to program more complicated trajectories of motion of manipulators.
8. Sensorics
One of the definitions of the idea of "robot", that the analysts of Sberbank comply with, says that it is a machine that is able to perceive the world around it with the aid of sensors, process the signals received this way and react accordingly. Reducing the cost, simplifying and enhancing the capabilities of sensorics is one of the key trends within the progression of robotics in the long term.
9. Robosimulators
Large amounts of data are expected to practice robots. To receive them, it is just not necessary to develop a model of the robot - sometimes it may be economically unprofitable, frequently even dangerous for a person. Therefore, the volume of coming of computer simulators of an robot will still only increase with all the expansion of automation.
10. New drive
Fundamentally, the principles of producing drive mechanisms are unlikely to switch, but even here the authors from the review locate a field for innovation. In addition to the new super-strong materials specified within the first paragraph, these may be new motors and gearboxes.
11. Design and production
Again, this really is primarily about software innovation. Libraries of electronic components, high-quality digital diaries, virtual reality tools can simplify the item design process.
At the assembly stage, the progress of robotics will probably be stimulated by the emergence of new materials, their decrease in price, along with the growth and development of 3D printing. It also requires optimization of software, that can make it easier and faster to generate new machines.
#Education robot#ROS robot#Rosbot#ROS compatible robot#Roboworks#Programmable robot#Outdoor AGV#Autonomous Mobile Robot#Autonomous Robot#Mobile Robot#mecanum wheel robot#mecabot#mecabot pro#mecabot plus#mecabot x#pickerbot
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HI LOML DORI HIHIHI i promise i saw ur ask and i was literally yk the meme emoji like O_O that was me when u sent that ask!! ive been busy bc ive actually been on my shit nd studying 4 my classes like a girl boss!! i saw u posted the writers thingy and i wanted to ask: it doesn't let me start a new line on here but numbers: 8. 14 (i hate letting ppl borrow my books bc they never give it back), 21 and 24!! sorry if its alot im just super curious bc i really like ur writing style!! - dango anon
HELLOOOOOOOyes i was hoping you’d see it eventually, i was like that meme with the kid that’s side eyeing everything while drinking his soda (??)
8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?
i would totally attempt one without dialogue, that seems so challenging and could potentially so sick istg i toooootally will not add that to my to-write list like i don’t have a million things to do already 😵💫
14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?
YES I DO. I KNOW EXACTLY WHERE THEY ARE. i have an ex who i let borrow my anniversary edition of fahrenheit 451 which is one of my all time favs and the mf never gave it back and i KNOW he never got around to fuckin reading it either. gave him a bookmark to use w it and everything. never AGAIN >:(. on a happier note, i do let friends and peers borrow books but i have a mental blacklist of the ones never returned and i still know exactly where they are even though i’m not DIRECTLY looking for them yk??? sixth sense typa beat LOL will i ever get any back? short answer; probably not but it’s an excuse to shop
21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?
in general, hell no LOL it’s actually helped me cope through trauma and depression so it’s one of best hobbies and i’d like to keep it around as long as possible—HOWEVERRR i do think i won’t write fanfiction forever, which is why i deleted the really short and (personally) cringy or hated works because if i’m to stop eventually i want to leave behind the ones i’m real proud of like inerrata or yearning man (could list all of my favs actually) because in writing them i literally used a piece of my soul and past to shape the lesson i wanted to have people read, whether i was the only one who got it or not. so really, maybe in the future i might ever get the urge to write an actual book but i don’t see myself quitting any time soon, just maybe the occasional break (like rn :’)) for burnout. however i am active and might post things on ao3 first or only on there sometimes like series because unless you’re already big they do NOT do well on here LOL
24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?
so if you’ve ever seen the show bones. i’m brennan if she was just averagely smart LOL yes i study everything to understand even if only the basics because sometimes underlying plot or details are what drives my story. researched for a week on the five stages of grief just to see how it manifested in different temperaments and environments and in another wip i studied engineering basics because it was the driving force or that fic’s reader’s struggle and upcoming. it mostly looks like slouching over my laptop with a thick ass notebooks making rushed notes and ending up drying my pens in the process LOL i do enjoy it but i do NOT enjoy the having ti but pens every month or so :’) it’s mostly the drive for knowledge for me because i already live learning in general. if given a timespan i think it takes about a week of searching before even writing out anything
writer asks!
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Road Trip
The back of the van is packed, stuffed full like it was packed by an expert soccer mom. I climb in first, as the shortest out of the group the executive decision was made to shove me in to the back. I squeeze into my seat the tight fit not bothering me, my years experience of being the youngest sibling finally coming in handy. I wait as the other climb in and hear the engine stuart up as all six of us have gotten in. I notice that none of them have brought snacks with them probably waiting for the gas station pit stop. We plan to drive up to the nation park and stay at a hotel near by for four days before coming back. The trip to get there will be about six hours if im remembering it right. I already feel my eyelids drooping as I lean onto the bags piled up beside me. Whoever decided to leave at five in the morning will feel my wrath in the next three to four hours when I have enough energy to deal with theses cursed morning people. I close my eyes, the sound of that song from cars flows through the speakers and viberats anything touching them. Alex must have got the speakers base boosted after his dad gave him the van as gift before he left for uni. I shove my face further into the bags trying to block out the noise as I fall asleep. I jolt awake as something hits me in the face. Opening my eyes to see blue fabric infront mo my face. Jess must have thrown her sweater at me, I peel it back to and look at her.
“Pit stop, thought you might want to use the bathroom”, she says with a stupid grin on her face. I crawl out to stretch my legs and got use the bathroom. I see the others with their arms fool of snakes waiting outside the van as I come back. Rolling my eyes at them I steal a bag of cornnuts from jess’s arms and crawl back in ignoring her squawking. You hit me in the face with your sweater I’m taking one of your snakes.
“How much longer do we have?” I ask.
“About two hours to go, you slept through most of it”, Alex responds as he starts the van back up.
“You missed my rendition of country roads”, says Bec a pout filling his face.
“Oh no what will I ever do”, I respond back.
“I can give an encore proformance”, Bec says with a smile creeping onto his face. The resounding nos fill the van, I love the guy but man is he tone def. I thank all the Gods that I was passed out for that. A pungent smell soon fills the van and I cover my noise.
“Okay who was that”, Jess all but screams.
“It smells like a dying animal”, Bec says as he fiddles with the switch for the window
“Alex, why are the child locks on I’m gonna die from suffocation back here”, Bec yells and the widows all get rolled down. The sound of wind filling the car and deafening all of us is worth the fresh air.
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Snail mail heat wave
Recorded with producer Jake Aron and engineer Johnny Schenke, with contributions from touring bandmates drummer Ray Brown and bassist Alex Bass as well, Lush sounds cinematic, yet still perfectly homemade. Im so tired of moving on Spending every weekend so far gone Heat wave, nothing to do Woke up in my clothes having dreamt of you Swirl in the white evening. In the time that’s elapsed since Habit, Jordan has graduated high school, toured the country, opened for the likes of Girlpool and Waxahatchee as well as selling out her own headline shows, and participated in a round-table discussion for the New York Timesabout women in punk - giving her time to reflect and refine her songwriting process by using tempered pacings and alternate tunings to create a jawdropping debut both thoughtful and cathartic. LETRA HEAT WAVE Im so tired of moving on Spending every weekend so far gone Heat wave, nothing to do Woke up in my clothes having dreamt of you. Créez gratuitement votre compte sur Deezer pour écouter Heat Wave par Snail Mail, et accédez à plus de 73 millions de titres. By the time she was sixteen, she had already released her debut EP, Habit, on local punk label Sister Polygon Records. Lindsey Jordan shows off her ice skating chops in Snail Mail's video for their new tune, 'Heat Wave,' the second single from their forthcoming 'Lush' (June 8, Matador). Around that time, Jordan started frequenting local shows in Baltimore, where she formed close friendships within the local scene, the impetus for her to form a band. Growing up in Baltimore suburb Ellicot City, Jordan began her classical guitar training at age five, and a decade later wrote her first audacious songs as Snail Mail. Lush feels at times like an emotional rollercoaster, only fitting for Jordan’s explosive, dynamic personality. Heat Wave is a popular song by Snail Mail Create your own TikTok videos with the Heat Wave song and explore 233 videos made by new and popular creators. Jordan’s most masterful skill is in crafting tension, working with muted melodrama that builds and never quite breaks, stretching out over moody rockers and soft-burning hooks, making for visceral slow-releases that stick under the skin. Throughout Lush, Jordan’s clear and powerful voice, acute sense of pacing, and razor-sharp writing cut through the chaos and messiness of growing up: the passing trends, the awkward house parties, the sick-to-your-stomach crushes and the heart wrenching breakups. Until then, we’ll have to put on “Heat Wave” and dream about summer time.Lindsey Jordan’s voice rises and falls with electricity throughout Lush, her debut album as Snail Mail, spinning with bold excitement and new beginnings at every turn. The highly anticipated new album, Lush, comes out June 8th on Matador. Jordan is a more astute and worldly Taylor Swift, and “Heat Wave” is “Teardrops on My Guitar” for a cooler and more enlightened generation that’s experienced real heartbreak and longing before they’re old enough to drink. We’ve all been there, laying around in the heat with nothing to do but daydream and wonder if there’s anything you could have done differently to be loved.
Three singles preceded the release of the album: 'Pristine', 'Heat Wave', and 'Let's Find an Out'. Jordan croons over bright guitar riffs that feel like summer. Lush is the debut studio album by American indie rock musician Snail Mail, released on Jthrough Matador Records. Chords for Snail Mail - Heat Wave (Official Video).: E7, Fm7, Asus4, E. The kind of crush that’s devastating and teaches you that sometimes, no matter what you do, it’s not enough. Heat Wave is asong bySnail Mailwith a tempo of124 BPM.It can also be used half-time at62 BPM or double-time at248 BPM.The track runs5 minutes and 8. On her latest single, “Heat Wave," Snail Mail sings of unrequited love. There’s wisdom, pain, and introspective observation behind these songs that feels well beyond teenage years, it’s almost hard to believe it’s all coming from someone who just graduated high school. Lindsey Jordan, the Baltimore native behind lo-fi bedroom pop project Snail Mail, already has a feature on Pitchfork's “Best New Music” and record deal with Matador Records under her belt, at just seventeen.
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6/22
look I SWEAR im not usually a "vibes are off" kinda guy.... but the vibes are most certainly off.
My trip began several hours before I figured it would; ar like 3:00 my boss told me i could leave at shift change. fine by me- we were dead after all. Stop home to pack, then i head up top. get there at like eight?? it was like right before sunset.
of course, before I even left for work that morning I'd reached out to someone from.. my Past Life. Current life now, I guess. He was working till 10, which gave me plenty of time to Scheme Up Some MoneyTM Well shit, that didn't take too long. Once he was off work, he had a couple things to do; this def had me worried cuz he's kind of flake. mm, actually "flake" isn't the right word. He's a Bull Shit Artist, to be sure, but hes no flake. if he sets up a mission its one that is going to benefit him, which means he'll be there. what im tryin to say is that he isn\t dumb enough to be a flake, if that makes sense.
He actually picks me up in case I "get too cooked to drive." what a gentleman lol. we then drive up to the city. as we pass the Lesser City With Worse Drugs* I looked at the skyline and thought how weird it is that I live in the country now. I uh.. kinda don't like? At the very least, I miss cities. Hell, I even miss those not quite cities-not suburbia that crops up around cities.
This was the first time I was on the Block in literal years. Hasn't changed at all. Still horrifying. I'm still weirdly numb to it.
And the Product knocked me on my fucking ass. I got 6, but only did one while we were in the city.
Side tangent here. Look, obv buying drugs off the block sucks. It scary, especially after midnight. this night was "only" 12"30. not the latest ive been there but still enough to put you on edge a bit. but that feeling when you have what you came for, you've got it in your system, and then the driver starts up the car to leave. oh man. total relief. because now, every block we pass brings us closer to the highway and a bit farther from where the Shit Goes Down. Less than five minutes after the engine starts, and we're already in a part of the City where it wouldn't feel like suicide to get out and walk around. And then you hit the highway, no more watching for cops out looking to ruin a junkies night. Soon, not even a speed trap from City Cops because you aren't in the part of the highway that's in the city limits. It's immaculate.
I don't remember if I did more that nigh, but I do know I "slept" passed out in my jeans. I did another bag at some point. basically the whole day was a blur. At one point I nodded out for three hours. I know this because Someone Special texted me and I meant to respond and it took me 3.5 hours to complete that task.
Which reminds me, if I don't get this shit under control SOON I'm going to fuck this up before it really starts and I REALLY don't want that to happen. I like this girl, and she likes me too. I'm down bad for ol' girl.
which brings me back to the bad vibes. idk, with going back to crossing lines I'd sworn off, and our government stealing half their subject's right to abortion, the loss of miranda rights, hell- my roommate said he lit a candle today and it just burned black smoke. idk, its spooky is all....
*(also the city where drug dealers start going to bed at 9 o clock)
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Hiyahh there Sarah, apologies for the super late reply bcs of finals •́ ‿ ,•̀
I used to read a lot in Asianfanfic, Wattpad and Tumblr during that time, I was 13 years old then!
Oh woah, so I'm assuming that means in your country there's a lot of people working mainly in the engineering and doctorate field then? It's my final for this semester🤣 I just finished the entrepreneurship paper yesterday and on the next Monday I'll have my last paper! Ooh? You're interested in researching?
I used to fantasize being a singer or smtg like that ahahahah but that was all in the past. Right now, I suppose I'm thankful if I manage to get a nine to five job after graduation, much less feel lucky if there's ppl out there that's willing to hire me •́ ‿ ,•̀
From what I can tell, your mom sure have a really high expectations on you... While I understand why most parents are like that but it can get really stressful... I hope they'd realized it someday, or maybe you can try talking to her about it? And honestly it's ridiculous that they're testing you on something that you're not majoring in ರ╭╮ರ
🐥
HEY SO MY EXAM WAS TODAY AND IT FINALLY GOT OVER OMG TT IM IN TEARS RN
ah yes i used to read so much back when i was 13 too but mostly on wattpad nowadays i barely get time tbh its hard i hope i can make more time in college (im making myself believe that college is a delusional heaven atp)
yeah ppl here become engineer and doctors like its air, something you cant live with it. trust me ppl here arent that into creative lines sadly. omg tomrow the last paper right? all the best then! summer holidays after that then? yep i really love studying tbh just not the mugging up they make us do here TT i love learning new stuff a lot!
hey no im sure you'll gte a job easily! nowdays they recruit from campus so ik you'll get one easily! singer? hahah thats cool tho i wanted to be an artist but my parents told me they couldnt afford to send me to any art school so i quite that dream. then i wanted to work in un or smth but ofc my mom hated that idea because apperently my quick mouth would put me in danger. yeah my mom im her 'prized daughter' so she has huuuge expectations so does my dad he doesnt just tell it out loud TT its very irritating i really cant talk to them its the society's expectations i need to fulfill ppl will have a heart attack if i had taken some other subject to study already ppl find it uncomfy when i tell them what i wanna study in college also im in my last year of school its impossible hoesntly TT
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Hey sorry to bring the kingdom thing again but the account you posted the screenshot from (even though I know you didn’t post who it was I saw the post for myself scrolling through the tags) is being so fucking rude about streaming. Somebody asked them nicely to stop clogging the SKZ imagines tags and they’re like “oh you’re willing to read smut but not support SKZ” I’m like ???? Bitch????
Ikr :/ Reasoning with such people is always useless because they often think they're the smartest people on the planet and everything that comes out of their mouth and every action of theirs, is right. No matter how dumb it might me to multiple people, which if it is, it's obvious that what they're doing is wrong. Twt stays like them have really turned the tables about supporting your idols by voting and listening to their songs and turned it into this mass competition where in if you're the slightest bit incapable of participation, you're not a stay or a fake fan.
Like sorry, no one is gonna determine my love for skz except myself. My life is not skz. I have my own things to do outside of them, and I think these people forget that music, the boys, kpop, is not every part of our life, and sometimes it's just as simple as “i like their music, and so I listen to them. I think they're good people and have genuine hearts, so I'm a fan of them.” no one has to prove their capability as a stay to these people because they have no sense of what's a life outside of kpop and stray kids, and it's sad to see them go to such lengths to force and literally make people feel scared for some votes and streams I guarantee no one is gonna remember in the future.
Like? I have a hectic life schedule and some others have it worse than me, and I go to the tags to get some sort of release and escapism (they've been doing the same with the imagines and fluff tags), not to see them being ass wipes and forcing me into more stress than I already have in me. I support skz enough — I listen to their music, and I like it, which really, is all you need to be a stay. Content creation, voting, streaming, anything outside genuinely liking skz’s music is secondary. And really, I encourage everyone to block them, because ngl, they and their supporters are toxic af, and you will know that by the way their whole internet personality is guilt tripping people on Tumblr into voting for a rigged mnet show.
#like these ppl a few days ago were like “fuck mnet 🙄🙄🙄” and now theyre kissing their ass#im not against voting#but against the guilt tripping to ppl who dont vote#literally the main point of the show was : skz getting more recognition and exposure. which they already have. no ones gonna remember skz#five years later as the “group who won kingdom” its srsly not that fucking deep go touch some grass#also why are twt stays coming here to spread their bullshit toxicity over here go away and dont come back u hear#again when i say twt stays i dont mean the nice ones. its a term used for obsessive fans who'll go to absurd and obsessive lengths for#things like this#also that user was talking about how they were treating sick ppl along with voting for skz like 💀#sorry lmao if u have the capability and time to do that good for u im gonna solve my integration sums and tru to crack my engineering exam#because my life is not revolving around kpop and i absolutely do not have it in me to manage all this stuff qlong with making 29938393838#accounts#dawn.replies#anons 🌁#❔#kingdom
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