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lokischocolatefountain · 1 month

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Denial || Men Like Me

Part 2 of the Men Like Me series. Part 1

Masterlist

Fandom: The Last of Us Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: girthy age gap, virgin!reader, eventual loss of virginity (not in this chapter), masturbation (male & female), cis fem reader, descriptions of reader's body, somewhat creepy!Joel, fetishization of youth, dom!Joel, Joel ignores you until he can't, slightly insecure reader, very insecure Joel, corruption kink, mild fem!dom, reader turns the tables a little, name calling, fetishization of virginity, face fucking (not the mouth, but cheek), kneeling, stripping, moneyshot, fingering, sexual discoveries. Word count: 10.4k Summary: After your steamy encounter, Joel ignores you out of guilt, leaving you feeling unworthy. But you make a discovery that makes you turn the tables on him. A/N: The reception that chapter 1 got gave me enough serotonin to keep me going, you guys. I hope everyone likes this chapter at least half as much if not as much as the first one. Even the half would give me a lot of joy. And do say hi in my inbox or my asks. I would loooove to talk about these two. As always, pleaaaaaase give me reblog and/or a comment to recharge my writing batteries. Most importantly, a big thanks to @tobuildahomeinthewoods because the smut part was from their idea in the last chapter's comments .

“Long day, huh?”

“What?” you asked, your brain taking a second too long to process the words. “Yeah. Yeah, yeah,” you said, going back to your glass of whiskey.

“I heard about the kids. They gotta be more careful,” Tommy said, looking to his brother for some kind of confirmation. Joel nodded hesitantly, his eyes looking everywhere but you as he traced the rim of his glass with his middle finger. So cavalier like he didn’t fuck you with that very finger. Asshole.

“Yeah, yeah. Climbing trees is not wise,” you agreed, willing yourself to look away from his brother. You didn’t want to get caught staring, or worse glaring. The chatter of the dinner crowd at the Tipsy Bison drowned into the sound of you tapping your fingers on the wood counter of the bar. You got up abruptly, the bar stool going down from the force of your actions. You bent over to pick it up, a hand moving to your chest instinctively to keep from flashing everyone. With no such protection for your ass, you could feel familiar eyes on them. Eyes that you’d become accustomed to having on you no matter the distance.

“You ok–” Tommy began, but you cut him off.

“You have a good one, Tommy,” you said, grabbing your bag from the bar counter and slinging it over your shoulder. “I gotta go. I’m really tired.”

Like the fool that you were, you picked your glass up and downed the rest of the whiskey, your throat rejecting the choice with a cough that had you spit out half of the burning liquor. Great. Now you’d have to wash your scrubs before going to bed so it didn’t stain. Fucking great.

There were some protests from the younger Miller brother, some words of concern. But you ignored him as you hurried out of the Tipsy Bison and into the night. At least one of the Millers had some manners. And it wasn’t the one that broke into your house and showed you what a clitoris was. It was fucking embarrassing that he was ignoring you after that. Even more embarrassing that you had to learn it from a random guy when you were the one poring over anatomy textbooks trying to become a doctor. You should know anatomy better than anyone else. Your mentor should’ve taught you. You’d learned how to conduct a safe childbirth. Even been allowed to close up the last c-section patient. But you didn’t fucking learn how the baby got in there.

Alright well, you did. But you hadn’t been told about some of the especially sensitive parts of the body that would be involved in the process.

You tossed your bag on your couch, got yourself some cookies that you traded for last week and climbed up the stairs to your bedroom. It wasn’t a nutritious dinner, but it filled your tummy. It came in handy when you didn’t want to spend time chopping vegetables and boiling pasta or whatever the hell you had to do to cook.

Your bedroom had become your prison in the last two weeks. You felt trapped, unable to see beyond it. How could you, when it ironically was right here that you found freedom?

Even as you did something as mundane as eating cookies on bed and spilled crumbs on your sheets like a child, the chair in front of your dressing table was in sight. From where you sat, you could see very clearly the scratch on the black paint that revealed the light wood underneath. Evidence of how you had to hold on to dear life as Joel worked your pussy expertly. Like he knew it as well as he knew the tools of his trade. Like weaving his fingers between your folds was as familiar to him as it was for you to weave through skin with your suture needle and thread.

You felt yourself dripping at the mere memory of his thick fingers pumping away inside you, unraveling the fibers of your being. The sight of him at the bar– his finger tracing the rim of the glass– it took you to the memory of that very finger teasing your pussy.

The pornographic magazines, the entertainment for men, no longer saw the light of day from their box under your bed. Pictures of nude women you wanted to model yourself after in order to be attractive to men no longer sufficed. All you strived for now was to be attractive to him. To be strung like a puppet in his hands while all he seemed to want was to get away from any place where you were.

You felt a pang in your chest as you recalled the first time you went to the house of worship after your time with Joel to find that he’d been replaced with the younger Miller. Tears stung in your eyes as you felt rejected by his absence. Like he no longer wanted to be in the same room as you, hammer nails into wood as you spoke to your fellow townspeople about their wellbeing. You told yourself it was just a temporary thing. That the brothers just liked to alternate shifts and he would return soon to fix the windows that shattered during a storm in the winter.

He never came.

You’d never experienced such rejection before. You’d never wanted before. To want was to risk rejection, to feel the pit in your stomach as you felt now. You never wanted to feel less than, undesirable, unwanted. So you pulled away from all the men you dated. If you could even call that dating. Maybe it was your own fault for thinking it would be easier with Joel. What did you think? That he would fold immediately because you showed off your legs and touched his arm and pushed your breasts out to present your femininity?

Naive, stupid girl.

“Been experiencing longer than you’ve been alive, Ma’am.”

Something twisted in your belly and you lied down, pulling your covers over you as though it would contain the shame coursing through you.

You probably looked silly to him, like a little girl playing adult. Like a kitten picking a fight with a lion. Less than half his age, just a fucking preschooler on outbreak day when he would’ve been a fully grown man. Maybe already beginning to gray, the skin by his eyes crinkled from the years he spent smiling at and wooing women. Why would he want a girl? He’d want a real woman. Someone like Tommy’s wife, perhaps. Someone he wouldn’t have to teach.

“Don’t know your own fucking body but you want a man?” his taunt rang cold in your ear, sending chills down your spine like he was still behind you, fingers buried deep inside the most intimate part of you. You pressed your thighs together, heat pooling between them as it always happened when you thought of what he did to you.

Shame didn’t deter you as you brought your fingers to your pussy, brushing one against your clit with curiosity. With fear. It felt so good, like its sole purpose went beyond the animal need to survive and propagate. You bypassed it to touch your weeping slit, more comfortable with what you were already used to for carnal pleasure.

Your own fingers had always been enough. Out in the wilderness when you needed to release pent up energy. After long days at the clinic and sharing notes with the other students. When you were tired to the point where you couldn’t sleep. Your fingers always took you to where you needed. You were always satisfied.

Not anymore.

You whined as the different angles you tried failed to work. The physical pleasure was the same. But not quite like how it felt with him. His hand was larger, his fingers longer and thicker. He showed you sports inside you that you’d never been able to touch yourself. Maybe this was what people meant when they said ignorance was bliss. Knowledge of pleasure you could have but couldn’t give yourself was torture.

As much as you resented Joel now, you couldn’t help but conjure images of him as you brought yourself closer to release. His deep brown eyes, his large hand that he wrapped around your throat, the way he carried you from your chair and deposited you on your bed. Like a human being weighed nothing to him. Like you were his toy that he could bury his fingers in, play with and set aside when he was done, when he was bored. Entertainment for Men came to your mind again and you cried like you never had at your own touch.

Your thighs trembled as you imagined yourself as one of those women in the magazines, but only for him. Entertainment for Joel. Splayed out on the center page for him to look at and fuck his hand to. You wouldn’t mind being tangible entertainment. Laid out on his bed, limbs arranged in an attractive manner for him, so he could access whatever part of your body he wanted to play with. To be bent to his will and fucked, to be used, given an affectionate pat on your pussy and put away when you’d outlasted his needs only to be given attention when he wanted to get off the next time.

You shook uncontrollably, your eyes squeezed shut and the world went blank as you reached your peak. You pulled your spare pillow to your chest, needing some physical comfort after experiencing such a high. You wished it were him instead of an inanimate object. That he would make you feel good and hold you and kiss you all over. That he would stay when you woke up the next day and do it all over again.

Once the haze of your orgasm cleared up, you cringed at the feelings it had brought out of you. How stupid… Wanting a man who broke in, fucked you with his fingers, and began ignoring you like you did something horrible to him. Fuck Joel Miller and fucking his stupid fucking face. As he said, there were other men in the town. Men who wouldn’t ignore you.

⌘

“How are the windows lookin’?”

“Fixed ‘em up in time for the cold winds. No thanks to you, fuckin’ asshole.”

“Sorry. Y’know I ain’t the church going type.” It wasn’t a lie. He wasn’t the church kind before Sarah died and he certainly wasn’t anymore. That the young aspiring doctor he fingered in her bedroom was the real reason behind him swapping work would remain his secret.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy grumbled, playing with the now cold fries on his plate. “It ain’t a church, by the way. Maria keeps correctin’ me. It’s the house of worship.”

Joel rolled his eyes at that. He got the reasoning behind it. The town had people who believed in different Gods and had different religions. Calling the place a Church would be as unfair as calling it a– whatever, he didn’t know any other kind of place for worship. But it still pissed him off when his little brother came to him and went on about something his wife said.

Go off and do whatever your wife tells you, motherfucker.

No matter how he tried, the snide voice in his head that hated Maria never went away. He never said anything to her or Tommy. Maria was decent to him too, unlike the time he first arrived with Ellie. She trusted him with Miles. Invited him and Ellie over to family dinners. But they kept their interactions to a minimum, as though there’d been a silent agreement that it was best they kept it civil so as to not sow discord in the family.

“Whatever. No point in worshiping, be it Jesus or whatever stuff they got goin’ these days.”

A shudder went down his spine, triggered by the talk of religion. As it became colder, Ellie had begun to revert to the empty shell of a child she was after the events in Colorado. There’d been grifters in the past hiding behind religion to cheat people out of their money, to damage children irreparably while preaching the word of God. The end of the fucking world somehow didn’t stop them from going on. Didn’t stop people from believing that an all-knowing, all-powerful guy in the sky was still watching and would protect them.

If what protected people was God, guns were God. And Molotov cocktails. Sharp rocks and shoelaces.

Ellie didn’t tell him much, but from what he could piece together, it was a religious group with one guy leading them. And they were fuckin’ cannibals. Sounded like a goddamn cult.

“It’s a nice place to meet people,” said Tommy, snapping him out of his descent into the void of the recent past.

Joel simply snorted and took a sip of his glass of water. He couldn’t handle his alcohol like he used to. Age and that he had been off his usual cocktail of oxy and whiskey for a long time now. He had to resort to having a lot of water to sober himself up after the occasional evening drinks with Tommy.

“What? It is! I go there, catch up with everyone in town. Usually people go there when they’re going through some shit. It makes them feel conscious if you visit their house. So I just run into ‘em at the Chu– house of worship– and I just talk to them about their lives ‘n see if there’s anything I can do for them.”

“Guess you’re right,” he said, slotting his thumbnail in the ridges on the bar counter absentmindedly, scraping off bits of the old softening wood.

He could go again. Only so many days he could ignore you. But the reminder of the shame coursing through his veins when he saw you this evening made him shake the thoughts off. There was no way he could be anywhere you were without shriveling up and dying of embarrassment.

You were so young.

Relatively unblemished by the world. A fuckin’ virgin. Never known the touch of a man and moaning his name as you touched yourself.

Nope, nope, nope. Shouldn't have gone there, he thought as he felt himself hardening in his pants. Shouldn’t his dick be non-functional by now? He was dangerously close to sixty and spent a good two decades without adequate nutrition. Shouldn’t that be enough to turn his dick limp forever?

“Come over tomorrow, then. We’re doin’ a little memorial thing in the back of the house of worship. That young doctor’s idea, actually. She put the idea forward at the last council meeting. Thinks it’ll help people to have something physical to remember their people by.”

Young, sweet, and so fucking thoughtful.

Not meant for men like him.

Yet he went the next day.

The topic of Sarah hung in the air around him and Tommy like a fog beyond which they couldn’t see. It sat heavy in his chest, the memory of his baby and worse, everything his shit brain had forgotten. He remembered that she gave him shit, mocked him over everything. But she didn’t have a voice in his head anymore. He could describe the sweetness of her voice, but it no longer sounded out in his mind. No matter how hard he tried.

Her favorite color was purple and she loved soccer. He couldn’t recall the name of her team. She loved reading. He didn’t remember her favorite author. She liked animated movies. He couldn’t remember a single one. Just the vague memory of her falling asleep on his lap as cartoon characters chirped away on tv. Even her face was beginning to blur. When he recalled her features, it was only through images of the last seconds of her life.

“We could just do alphabetical order. Simple.”

“Not really,” you said, scribbling lines on the paper. “We get new people in the town sometimes and we don’t want the names they add to stand out, away from the alphabetically ordered list. Might make them feel bad.”

“Yeah, you’re right. What about age?” Tommy suggested.

“Still the same problem. It would force newcomers to have their own separate list at the bottom.”

“How about a first come first serve system? We tell people when we’re taking names down for the memorial and they can come over, form a queue and give us the names they want included. That way, people can keep the names of the people they love in one spot on the memorial instead of having it scattered all over because of age or alphabetical order.”

“What do you think, Joel?” Tommy asked, making him fold his arms over his chest and sigh. He didn’t give a shit. But that wasn’t the most amicale thing to say when someone was trying to do an objectively good deed. Unlike the other people in this town, he didn’t deserve to add the names of his people to a memorial. He failed in protecting them. He didn’t deserve to mourn like he wasn’t the reason they went into early graves.

“Yeah, ‘s good. I agree.” He said, finding no faults with your proposal to order the names of the deceased by the order in which people gave it to ‘em. He didn’t know why he was being asked all this. It wasn’t like he was on the council like them. He was just takin’ measurements when he got dragged into this.

“How many names do you think we’ll get?” Tommy asked him in yet another attempt to get him involved.

Taking pity on his brother, he began a rough estimate of the number of names they’d get for the memorial and how much surface area they’d need for carving them in. “Six hundred people in town. Babies don’t have names to give. Kids wouldn’t have too many and if they had any, it would be on their parents’ list too. How many kids in this town?”

It was a fucking nightmare, sitting there at the table with you and doing calculations when all he wanted was to throw you over his shoulder and take you back to his place. Make you pose like you were posing in front of your mirror that day. Like women in those porno magazines he sneaked into his teenage bedroom and jerked off to. The fuck were you even thinking? Door left open, tits out, fingers in your cunt and his fucking name on your lips.

Did you notice him at your door and decided it would be a fun trick to play on an old man? Or did you always scream his name when you fucked yourself? When was the first time? Did you always come so prettily on your own fingers like you came on his? Being in the dark drove him crazy. But part of him felt that getting the answers would drive him absolutely fucking insane.

The thought alone was enough to make him feel uncomfortable in his pants. He adjusted himself on his seat and looked away from you, afraid that somehow you’d be able to tell that he was having improper thoughts about you when you were talking about honoring the dead. If thinking about you sexually in a church was bad, he was sure it was worse to think it when you were trying to help people memorialize their dead.

You had an air of innocence about you. The brightness of your eyes and the way you moved your hands about as you planned the details of this memorial and scribbled them out on your little notebook. He’d been attracted to that innocence from the very start. A rare thing to find out in the world. When even babies were born into violence and oppression, innocence was a luxury no one even thought to acquire.

A virgin, too.

His cock twitched in his pants. He gulped and looked around to check if anyone had caught his shameless response. Nope.

He was surprised you were a virgin. For all your innocence, you were also fucking beautiful. There were plenty of guys in town. Ladies too, if you liked that. Anyone would’ve snatched you up quick and made sure to show you a world of pleasure. It didn’t take him long knowing you to give in to temptation. It was fucking impossible that no man had worshipped with his head between your thighs. That no man who saw you in your pretty little dresses bent you over and filled you up with his cock.

You were beautiful. Even more so when you came on his fingers. Made all those pretty little sounds. The way you said his name… Nobody had said it like that in such a long time. Not even Tess.

It rang in his head whenever he found himself alone at home. Being in possession of your panties didn’t help matters. White cotton. Innocent. Covered in your dried up release. When he left that day, he made sure to suck on his fingers. Moaned like a fucking creep while going down your stairs. Eyes closed, he could still taste you on his tongue. After so many days. A little tangy with a hint of salt from your sweat and all woman.

It had been embarrassingly long since he felt like a man. He’d been father, brother, smuggler, and father again. But long since he was just man. Never someone desirable. Out there, sex was just for release. Purely biological. The end of the fucking world did not afford good hygiene. You fucked someone because they were the safest option. Not because you were attracted to them.

You, however… You had others in this town. You were here before him. Younger, smarter, with a body that worked perfectly fucking well. You could have anyone but it was his name you were moaning out in the privacy of your room.

He grunted as your voice crept back into his mind. The ‘Joel, please’, and the ‘Sir’.

He grabbed on to the railing as his thighs trembled, afraid he would have an embarrassing fall. His breaths grew quicker and his mind void of everything but you.

On your knees. On your back. On your front so he could fuck you from behind. Your hand around his cock. Your lips stretched out around him as you struggled with his size. Fistful of your hair as you begged for release. Please, Sir. Please, Joel. The heat of your tight velvety cunt. Tears blurring your wide eyed innocence as he stretched out your rear hole. He wanted to take you everywhere, leave you burning with him. Mark you so deep every man you let in after you would know who fucked you first.

It didn't take long. The mental images of you were far too effective. His last time was too long ago. He was too old to last. Too old to want you. Somehow the reminder only pushed him further along. Sticky white cum coated your panties, mixing your scent with his. The mirror showed him a reflection of himself. Old, gray, crow’s feet by his eyes. He dropped your panties in the hamper, the warmth of his own release on his hand and the shame on his face sobering him up quickly.

He wanted to teach you sin. But you had taught him more of it already than you would ever know.

⌘

“Cool jacket, dude!”

“Uh…thanks. I traded for it years ago” you said, digging your thumb nail between the teeth of the zipper. It didn’t fit perfectly, but it worked well on cold nights that weren’t cold enough to warrant a sweater. “Is Joel in? I need to talk to him about a building project.”

“Yeah,” said Ellie before pressing her lips into a thin line. “I mean, he was awake half an hour ago when I left, but he could be in dreamland by now. Cause he’s old.”

“Ah. Of course,” you said, smiling awkwardly at the girl. Joel’s kind of, sort of daughter. You were closer to her than Joel in age. You rolled the memorial plan tighter and tighter, your hands needing to be occupied with something as your mind reeled at the inappropriateness of your desires.

“I’ll make sure I don’t wake him up,” you said before leaving the girl to return to her group of friends.

He was old enough to be your father. It should disgust you, scare you. Maybe it would’ve if you’d had an actual father in your life. A point of reference to know how vile a man of that age would have to be to want a girl your age. You tried to force some disgust into your veins, hoping that would help in putting out the fire in you that threatened to consume you whole. But it was hard to convince yourself that this was wrong when he’d made you feel so good.

Your fingers had become inadequate overnight. If his fingers were so powerful over you… You shuddered to think what he could do for you with his penis. It had to feel better. The organ was made for it, unlike fingers.

You stopped outside his door and knocked without giving it a single thought. If you’d thought about it, you would’ve fled. It had already taken you hours to muster up the courage to make the walk to his house with the draft sketches for the memorial. You wouldn’t let your desperation ruin it.

He looked surprised to see you, mouth opening and closing as though he’d forgotten how to process language. His dark brown curls and the silver that decorated it sat messily atop his head. Like he’d run his fingers through it. An old t-shirt stretched over his chest and struggled against his arms. A pair of dark sweatpants sat on his hips, the drawstrings hanging in the front.

“Hey? Uh…what’s wrong?” he asked, bringing a hand up to his face and scratching his beard. Why was that hot? You had to be out of your fucking mind.

You cleared your throat and looked up into his eyes. “Does something have to be wrong?”

“You’ve never come here, so I thought…”

“I’m here about the memorial plans. I have a few designs I want to run by you,” you said, holding up the rolled up sheets of paper.

“Ah. That. Sure, uh come in,” he said, opening the door and stepping aside to allow you passage. You looked around his house, careful to seem disinterested so he didn’t have more reasons to think you were a stupid little girl pining after him just because he made you come once.

Shit. He probably already thought that.

“A virgin. Pretty young things like you ain’t for men like me.”

You swallowed at the reminder as he led you to the dining table and offered you a seat. You looked around while he cleared the table. Plates, tools, some worn out novels. So he was the messy sort. You didn’t know who you would be if you’d had the chance to just be. You didn’t know if you would leave things lying around like that if you’d had a normal start to life. Like Joel. Like the others who were old enough to remember life before the cordyceps.

The place didn’t scream Joel Miller. There were no personal artifacts decorating his living room. No framed art. No books. No throw pillows or even a blanket on the couch.

You knew what it was like to have nothing in your house. When you were still new to the town and it hadn’t hit you yet that you were allowed to have your own things. Collect stuff and not worry about having too many things to carry with you when you had to run. You didn’t own anything you couldn’t fit into your backpack. And you took that backpack everywhere when you managed to step outside your new house.

But over time, you’d decorated your house. People you helped out at the clinic often gave you things as a token of their gratitude. Kids drew pictures for you. A lady once gave you the art off her wall that the previous owner had put up. Tommy and Maria gave you a new sweater that she’d knit when she was pregnant. New yarn from new wool from the town’s sheep. The first time you ever got something truly new.

“No decorations, huh?”

“What?”

“You don’t have any decorations here,” you pointed out again and licked your lips nervously.

“Uh, yeah. Not really the priority. Have’ta trade wisely. Can’t be gettin’ pictures when ya need bread.”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “But you don't have to trade for it, you know? You could put up something of what’s in the house already. Surely the previous owners left some stuff.”

“They did. Traded ‘em all for things we need. Fresh fruits, bullets, that kinda shit.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be framed art. You could cut up a nice picture from a magazine or something.”

Joel looked up from the plans, head tilted and an eyebrow raised. Shit! Of course he thought you were talking about your magazines with the naked women.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” you said, your voice coming out squeaky. Embarrassed, you cleared your throat and looked down at the plans.

“Let’s discuss the plans,” he said, his voice all gruff and his tone so stern.

“I-I- uh… May I use your restroom?” you asked, unable to look him in the eye after what you’d said. After how he’d reacted. You really didn’t mean it like that. But you could see why that would be hard to believe when the last time he saw you, you had a box full of those men’s entertainment magazines on your bed and one open in front of you as you touched yourself.

Touched yourself and moaned his name.

“Upstairs, second door to the left.”

You squeaked out a thanks before you bolted out of his dining room and made your way up the stairs. There were two bathrooms. One decorated with band posters and a poster of a girl with weirdly cut black hair sitting on a motorcycle. Had to be Ellie’s. The second door to the left was another bathroom. Joel’s, apparently. There was just one bar of soap, a toothbrush, and a pot of toothpaste. No shampoo bar. You pulled the toilet seat and lid down before taking a seat.

You let out a groan and planted your face in your hands. Why the hell did you have to go and make it awkward like it wasn’t already that way. After he made you come that day, he’d refused to be anywhere near you. You hoped it was just coincidence, but after over a week it became undeniable that he was avoiding you.

He probably thought you were going to catch feelings. A girl in one of the romance novels you read fell in love with a guy who took her virginity. And there was the time you overheard this guy talking about not wanting to sleep with a girl because she was a virgin. He was afraid she would catch feelings and get clingy.

Now here you were in his bathroom because you thought it was wise to make small talk and ended up insinuating he should put up dirty pictures on his wall. You could scream. But you wouldn’t. There was already enough awkwardness with him.

You could always jump out of the window and run off to your house. Never speak of this again. Pretend nothing happened if Joel tried to talk to you about it. But something told you that he wouldn’t. He would probably be happy if he never had to interact with you again. You had been acting desperate. He caught you touching yourself moaning his name, for fuck’s sake!

Your hands, permanently dry from all the times you scrubbed them clean for your patients, found some moisture from your salty tears. It was embarrassing, sitting in the bathroom of a guy who wanted nothing to do with you after you scared him off with your stupid little infatuation.

You were a grown woman. Still young, but too old to be acting like this. You should have some experience already. Not sniffling over a man more than twice your age. He was right. He had been a grown man with experience longer than you’d been alive. Of course he wanted nothing to do with you.

The window looked more and more attractive as the seconds passed. It had been a while since you did something like that. You didn’t need to jump out of buildings or trees anymore. You didn’t go on patrols like some residents. With no need to fight for your life and having all the food you could need to never go hungry even once, you’d become a little unfit. If you broke a bone jumping out of Joel’s bathroom window, there would be questions. And everyone would know. You’d have to avoid the whole town instead of just Joel.

You’d just have to face it. Even if facing it was doing as little as just bidding him goodbye and bolting out of his house without an explanation. You got off his toilet and pressed the flush just so he didn’t think you were weird. Like it fucking mattered. He already found you weird and desperate.

You washed your hands, letting the water wash away the tears on your hands before wiping your wet hands over your face in an attempt to remove traces of your crying.

You should’ve just left after that. Not looked around. Not snooped like a creep. You didn’t ever dig. You didn’t have to look too deep to catch it. But a sliver of white peeked out through the netted walls of the laundry hamper. A sliver of white cotton with a light blue stitch.

Without second thought, you dug into his dirty laundry. You came up with the white cotton fabric, going straight to the gusset where the blue thread stitched the fabric pieces together. The original stitch had given out and you sewed it back together just some time back. The blue thread was all that you had at the time.

As though the sight of your panties in Joel’s bathroom wasn’t jarring enough, next came the smell. Of you. Your cum. You felt practically hear your own heartbeats as you recalled how he’d cleaned you up with your own panties. You recalled that he stuffed the fabric in his pocket as you lied on your bed, pussy still pulsating from his handiwork, brain melted, and life changed forever.

You took another whiff of your panties, goosebumps raising the hairs on your body as you felt it. Your cum and something else. It was still damp.

Blood rushed back up to your face and you felt yourself getting tense.

This fucker. How dare he? You’d been embarrassed just a minute ago over your desires and he was doing this the whole time? Noticing you on the streets and running away for days. Running back to his home where he kept your fucking panties, apparently. Avoiding you for so long only to cum in your panties.

So he wanted you.

If not you, he at least wanted sex. Dirrty old man who liked attention from you, but you weren’t even disgusted. Just angry he was pretending to be better than that. He could’ve used any old rag, but he used your panties.

You brought your defiled panties back up and smelled them again. Strangely, it smelled something like bleach. Or you could be wrong. You’d never… You didn’t know what a man’s release was supposed to smell like. Was it different for each man or did they all smell the same?

Wetness pooled in your panties as you imagined him touching himself. Large rough hand wrapped around himself. Did he think of you when he did it? Think of you naked in your bedroom and taking his fingers? What did his penis look like? What would it feel like? Soft? Rough? You’d wondered about having one inside you, but never about a particular man’s anatomy. But this was Joel. Joel was the only one who’d gotten this far in your head.

He couldn’t deny it to you anymore. If nothing else, you could at least call him out for ignoring you when he was wiping his ejaculate off with your stolen panties.

“Joel!” you called out before your fears could talk you out of confronting him. Unsure if he would’ve heard you, you opened the bathroom door and yelled his name out again. “Joel!”

“What?”

“Come up here!”

“What happened?”

“Just come here.”

You heard him sigh, the sound followed by the typical grunts and groans he made when standing up. Fuckin’ old man, ruining your life. Ruining your self-confidence. Ruining your fucking panties. His heavy footsteps thudded against the stairs as he climbed up, the sound getting louder as he got closer to the bathroom.

“Why were you screaming my name like y–” he stopped mid scold, frozen in place by the door as he saw what you had in your hand. He opened and closed his mouth, as though attempting to explain but deciding otherwise. He licked his lips and scratched the back of his neck, his eyes looking everywhere but at you.

“Do you not have rags, Joel?” you taunted, taking a step towards him and enjoying seeing him step back. You felt powerful, moving a large man with just your voice. It was very unlike how he made you feel all the days he ignored you. Weak, insignificant, undesirable.

“You weren’t meant to– Fuck, I’m sorry!”

“Which part are you apologizing for? For breaking into my house and touching me? For ignoring me ever since? For stealing my underwear? Or for doing whatever you did with it?”

You moved him out of the bathroom, making him walk backwards in the hallway you hoped led to his bedroom. Even if it didn’t, you’d be fine. You’d exact revenge in any place you can. As long as you got to make him feel the way he made you feel. Pleasure. Shame. Want.

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I never should’ve—”

You took your last step towards him, finally trapping him against a wall. You stood close enough to place your hand on his chest. You licked your lips, the rock hard muscles beneath your touch storing itself away in your mind for later use.

“Imagine what would happen if I told someone? You sister-in-law, perhaps… She hates you, doesn’t she?” You smirked, though you were screaming on the inside. You didn’t know where you got all this courage from. You didn’t know you had it in you to threaten a man as imposing as Joel.

He turned pale, his hands up against the wall in surrender. If you’d asked him, he wouldn’t tell you the truth that it was to keep himself from touching you. “Please don’t tell anyone. I won’t do this again, I swear.”

“Maybe I want you to do this again…”

“You don’t. Trust me.”

“Shh!” You said, placing your index finger on his lips. Pink, perfectly shaped, and so damn kissable. “Don’t tell me what I want. You ignored me ever since you walked into my house without my permission and shoved your fingers inside me. I was walking around town believing I wasn’t good enough for big old Joel Miller. What did you say? That you’ve been experiencing longer than I’ve been alive?”

You raised an eyebrow at him when he didn’t answer. Then he nodded reluctantly.

“Why were you coming in my panties then if I didn't measure up? ”

“I won’t do it ag—” he groaned when you grabbed his cock through his pants. He let out a low grunt and his Adam’s Apple bobbed in his neck as he swallowed. You replaced your index finger with your thumb, tracing his trembling lips as you lazily stroked his cock with your other thumb.

He filled your whole hand and there was still more. It took everything in you to not moan at the sheer size of him. To not grind your belly against it to feel it against you. You didn’t know how big it was supposed to be, but the romance novels you read always described the big ones as more desirable.

“I don’t want to hear excuses. I asked why. Why did you steal my panties, Joel Miller?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you come on it? Don’t fucking lie to me cause I can fucking smell you on it.”

“I did. I jerked off with it.” You had to choke back a moan at that. No, you had to be strong. Show him you could take the upper hand just like he did with you. You weren’t a little girl with a crush. You were a woman and you could have this effect on a grown man. You refused to be discounted with a pat on your pussy no matter how much you wanted him to touch you like that again.

“Mmm. And that’s enough to get you going. Just a pair of my panties.”

“Mhmm.”

“Show me how you did it.”

“What?” He asked, eyebrow raised.

“Show. Me. How you did it.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, his hand coming up to stroke the base of his neck. “Wh-What?”

You felt your heart thud against your ribs and if you didn’t know from experience and your textbooks, you’d have been afraid that he could hear it. You’d never done anything so daring. You were the timid girl when it came to this stuff. That the thought even occurred to you was a testament to how much you desired Joel. Not just to sleep with any guy, but to have Joel. Without a word, you reached under the skirt of your dress and tugged your panties down.

He inhaled sharply as you bent down and came back up with your panties. Undyed white fabric, a little green ribbon in the shape of a bow stitched to the front, gusset a light gray from your wetness.

“Show me. I want to see what you were doing in your bathroom with my panties after ignoring me everyday,” you said, taking his hand and forcing the fabric into it. His hand curled around it and you found yourself feeling lighter. You didn't know how long you could keep up the brave front if he continued to have no response.

“Take your clothes off.”

It was like something changed the moment you gave him the garment. His eyes were on you, his gaze unrelenting. He took a step ahead and you stepped backward. His lips curled up in a smirk. It seemed playtime was over… Like a lion letting the cubs play at predation before taking over to show how hunting was really done.

You didn’t know if you were ready for that… Sure it was nothing he’d never seen before, but it was different. The last time, you didn’t do it with the intention to have him see you. He just happened to see you bare and you didn’t cover up when you realized.

“I don’t have a box full of dirty magazines. I need to see somethin’,” he said, his eyes going down your frame like they had every right to be there. “Or you could leave these,” he said, holding your panties up in front of your eyes, “and run back home. What d’ya say?”

You swallowed, your hands shaking as you reached behind to find the zipper of your dress. You weren’t going to run off. Not when you’d been desperate for so long to do something, anything with him. Cold air kissed your back as you pulled the zipper down and the hairs on your body stood up in full attention. You pushed the sleeves off your shoulder and shimmied out of the dress, standing in just your dress in front of him.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. He looked you up and down. He tilted his head as he looked you up and down. He radiated superiority, putting you in some kind of a daze. “Your bra too. Show me your tits.”

The crudeness had more wetness pooling between your legs. You nodded wordlessly, afraid that pathetic whimpers would be the only sound you’d make under his gaze. You reached behind and felt around for the clasp of your bra. With his eyes piercing into you, you failed to find it quickly like you usually did. Your mouth dried up, your tongue sticking to the roof.

He made no effort to help. A mocking smile assumed its place on his lips as he watched you struggle in front of him.

When you finally managed your task and stood fully naked, he stood up straight. His tongue darted out and licked his lips. You felt like a piece of meat placed in front of a starving man. Just seconds ago, you were telling yourself you didn’t need his approval, that this would just be revenge. But as he evaluated your body, your pussy wept with the need for your body to be nothing but what he liked.

“Room’s that way.” He nodded in the direction of the room. You turned around and took small steps, your shoulders curling inward and your head bowed in submission. Every inch of your skin burned with the strength of his gaze.

“Kneel.”

You placed your knee on his bed, ready to climb up.

“On the floor.”

One knee still on his white sheets, you turned around to look at him. He was so large. Imposing. The kind of figure you would follow without question. So, you did.

“You look pretty on your knees.”

He took a few steps towards you, stopping when the distance had your neck straightening to look up at him. Large, powerful, imposing. Another step and you were face-to-face with his crotch. His bulge was right there.

“Go on, take it out. Since you wanted it so bad.”

Joel didn’t think you would do it. You looked even smaller kneeling at his feet. Meek little thing. He didn’t at all expect you to taunt him the way you did. Especially after you threatened to tell on him to Maria. He fully expected you to start crying. Guess he really underestimated you. Virgin didn’t necessarily mean innocent.

Yet you folded as soon as he took the reins. He saw the change in you right when he told you to take your clothes off. When your eyes went from determined to defeated. All that spunk evaporated to reveal the little girl underneath. He liked it like that. Made him feel like a real man. Not that there was any scarcity of masculinity in his life of taking out clickers and defending this town. But somethin’ about a beautiful woman accepting his authority did the trick faster than every other display of masculinity.

Your hands fiddled with his belt, trembling as you tried to take it off. He stopped you with a hand on your wrist. “Just undo the zip.”

No way he was going to get naked in front of a pretty little twenty something. It wasn’t anything great to look at even before he began a life of violence and traversing the wilderness. Sure he was well built from all the hard physical labor and constant fight for survival. It’d left several unappealing scars on his person. Time had done a number on him too. Especially his pudgy belly. It didn’t help that food flowed free in Jackson, fattening him up a little.

Thankfully, you listened. You looked up, as though you expected him to complete the task for him. He challenged you with a look. Wanna be a big girl so bad, act like one.

You reached inside his pants and took his cock out. Your lips parted and he heard you inhale through your mouth. His cock hung in front of him, hard from your teasing. He had to give it to you, you were daring for a meek little thing. No one in town would believe him if he told them all that you’d done. And he suspected he didn’t even know the half of it.

“Not too late to back out, you know?” he said, wrapping his hand around himself. It took everything in him to give you an out. As much as he wanted to grab your face, force your mouth open and make you gag around him, he was man enough to let you know you didn’t have to do anything. Young girl probably bit more than you could swallow. And seeing his cock and your mouth so close by showed that he was definitely nothing you could swallow.

“I’m not backing out.”

“First time seeing one?”

“Of course not. I work at the clinic. You think I haven’t seen a penis?”

“No anatomical terms. I ain’t your patient. Go on, touch my cock.”

You reached up for him, but he stepped back, delighting himself in the disappointment on your face. “Come on, you want a man so bad, work for it.”

You moved to stand up. “Did I say you could stand up?”

“No.”

“Then get back on your fucking knees.”

You dropped to your knees and he groaned in satisfaction. The euphoria of wielding power over someone rushed through his veins. And he wanted more. It was the same sick satisfaction he got when he beat men to death. When he broke bones and dressed animals he hunted in the wild. “Good girl. You’re going to listen to what I say. Got it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Fuck! That fucking word again.

“Come on, come get it. Hands and knees. Crawl to me.”

He beckoned you forward with one hand, his other still on his cock. You bent over and god fucking damnit, you were a vision. You were an eager girl and he could see what you could become in the right hands. His hands. The things he could show you… Introduce you to your own body. Bring you pain and pleasure that were indistinguishable.

Your tits hung from your chest, swaying as you crawled towards him. Feverish, bright eyes followed him as he continued to refuse what you wanted. Too fucking late. He warned you. Told you men like him weren’t for pretty little things like you. But you didn’t fucking want to listen. Now you’d have to deal with the consequences. Maybe you’d stay away then.

“Please, Sir,” you whined so prettily he almost gave in.

“What are you begging for?”

“You. Y-your penis.”

“My cock,” he corrected. “Say it.”

“Your cock, Sir.”

“Good girl. C’mere,” he said, giving you a nod to come closer. You crawled to him and when he didn’t back away, sat up on your knees. He placed his hand on the back of your neck and gripped your hair, making you hiss. Holding you in place, he brought his cock to your face. You looked up at it, your eyes widening and your mouth slackening. You brought your hand up and touched his tip with just your thumb. The rest of your hand followed, wrapping around him. He gasped silently as you stroked his slit with your thumb, making him leak precum on you.

“Did…? Did you?”

“No. Gotta do more ‘n that to make me come. That’s precum.”

“Oh.”

He didn’t think you knew what precum was. Probably not the focus of your education here. Not the most important thing when townsfolk came in injured after patrols or suffering from a fever that was life threatening without the medicines of the past.

He pressed his cock against your cheek. The sight presented a visual of how you’d struggle if you took him in your mouth. He’d have you choking on him before you even took half. He twitched against your face at the mere thought. You were the picture of innocence, even with his cock on your face. Even with the stunt you pulled before he put you back in your place.

“Think I’ll just do this. Fuck your pretty face.”

You whimpered, spurring him on. He wanted to force himself inside you, punish your mouth for having the gall to speak to him the way you did. Make you cry from how full of him you were. Give you a sore throat so when you spoke to him again, you’d remember to speak with respect. But you wouldn’t be able to handle it. So he’d settle for defiling your sweet features, hold his cock against your cheek and rut like the animal he was.

“I ain’t gonna lay you out on my bed and take you nice and slow. I’m just gonna use you. ‘s what men like me do.”

He pulled away, giving you another opportunity to rethink this. “You can put your fucking clothes on and leave if you don’t like it.”

To his surprise, you stayed put on your knees. You shook your head before reaching up and rubbing your cheek against his cock. You let out a soft moan, eyes closed and your thighs pressed together tight. “No, no. I like it.”

“Fuckin’ slut,” he said, his hand back in your hair. He tugged at it and took his cock in his other hand. He tapped your lips with his tip, smearing the precum that leaked out of him. “You like an older man using your face like it’s a pussy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He snorted, amused. “Never met a virgin slut before. Getting your face fucked before your pussy. Bet you’re wet from this.”

There was the sweet little whimper from you again. He wanted to hear more of it. Trap you underneath him and make you weep and cry and whimper as he split you in half.

“Let me see. Touch your pussy, show me your slick.”

You obeyed, spread your knees and touched yourself. Your hand glistened under the light of his bedroom, your wetness stretching between your fingers in strings. “Goddamn, would you look at that…” he said in a low rumble. “Rub it on my cock.”

Your hand trembled slightly and you stared at him with a blank look in your eyes. He guided your hand to his cock, withdrawing his hand when he’d brought you close enough so you could decide whether you wanted to follow his command. You touched your slickened hand to his cock, covering him in the evidence that you wanted this. Wanted him. You reached between your legs and brought more of yourself, eyes soft yet glazed with lust as you smeared yourself all over his length.

“Ask me for it.”

“Please,” you whined.

“Please, what?”

“P-please fuck my face. Sir.”

He returned his cock to your cheek, your wetness lubricating your face. Hand cradling his cock, he began to thrust. It wasnt much different from fucking his own fist. It was just skin. Not the tight velvety wetness of a pussy or a throat that would gag with his thickness. But your face was softer than his gun callused hands. Even better was your pretty face, looking up at him so adoringly… So full of desire.

He didn’t have to let his imagination do the trick now. Not when you were right in front of him, lending yourself for his use. And no imagination, no memory did justice to you. Your body. Scarred, but beautiful. Tits that filled his large hands, clean and styled hair, a belly that showed you were well fed. He wanted to lay you out on his bed and consume you. Take your tits in his mouth, grab handfuls of your ass, spread your cunt lips and lodge himself inside you. Give it to you hard so your thigh jiggled and you felt them ache as they rubbed against each other when you walked around in your pretty little dresses.

But as depraved as he was, he knew he shouldn’t be the first to take you. He’d have you just this once. Store your image in his head to get off with for as long as his dick worked. You acted all brave, but he couldn’t shake off that you were still inexperienced. The first time was meant to be good. The world was no longer normal, but you could have normality within the insular walls of Jackson.

Even this was wrong. Using you like this instead of making sweet love to you. But he hadn’t been that man in a long time. He was selfish and cruel. If there was no town, no community where everyone knew everyone and you still threw yourself at him, he would’ve taken you in all your holes with no hesitation. Ruined you, kept you until your body wasn’t of use and tossed you aside. But being in this semi-normal place had gotten its claws into him. Softened him up.

He grew closer to the edge embarrassingly quickly, the haze of carnal pleasure beginning to muffle the voices screaming in his head to let you go. He only barely noticed that you were touching yourself. Enjoying this treatment of you. That spurred him on. There was no stopping now.

You let out soft moans, your eyes never once leaving him. He struggled to get himself to focus. To check for any signs you didn’t want this. But all he saw was you on the precipice of pleasure. The world disappeared. His house, Jackson, the darkness that lay beyond. It was all him now. He felt lighter, like he would float out through the window and everything he’d ever been through would disappear. Every ounce of goodness quietened down, the last shreds of his morality discarded with your dress. He grunted and moaned your name as he kept fucking you. Your features morphed into nothingness. No longer a face, no longer a human woman. All he knew was the ache in his body, the tightness that begged to be released.

He slapped a hand against the wall as his thighs stiffened and every muscle in the vicinity of his cock tightened. He took himself back in his hand and stroked himself over your face. Once, twice, and thr– mid stroke, he growled and spilled on your face, coating your innocent features in sticky white cum. You flinched as the first stream hit, screwing your eyes shut. He wanted to make you look, see how he could defile you, show you that he wasn’t for you. Force you to confront what you’d allowed into your life so you’d run and never look back.

But all he could do was keep stroking as he came down from his high. It was unlike anything he’d had in the recent past. Not his imagination, not just his hand. A real human woman who wasn’t just a convenience. One who sought him out, stripped for him, and let him use her face like a toy.

He took a minute to collect his breath and let his senses return to him. His cock hung semi-hard outta his jeans, like it could go again if he willed it. Like it wasn’t almost six decades old. But he wasn’t too surprised. He could go again for the utterly debauched girl in front of him. Innocence eclipsed by milky white ropes of his cum. Without thinking twice, he grabbed your hair and pulled at it. You yelped, but let him pull you up from the ground and drag you to the other side of the room.

He stopped you in front of his mirror, and slapped your hand off your pussy before replacing it with his. “Look at yourself. I fucking told you,” he said, forcing two thick fingers inside your cunt. You sucked him in with little resistance, your cunt leaking enough for him to force a third finger inside you. You gasped and tried to wriggle away, but he wasn’t having it. He was a fucking monster, but he would never leave a woman unsatisfied. Especially a young thing who’d never had anyone else before.

He wrapped his free hand around your throat, his half hard cock begging him to go again when he felt the vibrations of your moans. “I warned you,” he whispered into your ear. “Fuckin’ warned you. Told you how starved I was. And you still taunted me. Look at you now!”

“Please… Please, Joel! Sir, please…”

“Fuckin’ slut. Maybe you ain’t really a virgin.”

“I am, I am, I promise. I wa–” you cut yourself off with a gasp as he pressed his thumb on your clit.

“What was that?”

You made some incoherent noises, too far gone to form words. Yet you managed to thrust onto his fingers and roll your hips like a real natural.

“Joel…”

“I know, pretty girl… I know,” he cooed, the softness in his voice contradicting how he’d used you just minutes prior. Contradicting the cum on your pretty little face.

“You gonna come for me? Give me another one after you came so sweetly on my fingers that day?”

There were no answers from you. Not even an acknowledgement that you heard him. Just whines and moans as you let him support your entire weight. Your head lolled back on his shoulder and your eyes rolled back into your skull as he fucked you stupid with just his fingers. Oh the things he could do with his cock… Reach deeper, take the virginity you’d held on to for so long. If he ever had you, he would never let go. He was too selfish a man to willingly lose a girl so precious after taking her cunt.

You gripped him like a vice, so tight he couldn't pry his fingers out. Something that vaguely sounded like his name spilled from your lips as you crumpled in his arms. Your pussy pulsated around you as he held you against him, unwilling to remove himself from you so quickly.

He withdrew your panties from his pocket– the fresh pair you took off in his fucking hallways like it was no big deal. He wiped your face with it the same way he cleaned up your cunt that day. Instead of tucking it in his pocket, he forced it into your hand.

“Put it on. Your fucking dress, too. Hope you learned you fucking lesson.”

As you put it on and scampered away naked into his hallways, he hoped it would be enough to scare you away. But he knew in his heart of hearts that he would always crave you like an addict craving a drink.

⌘

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vintagegeekculture · 8 months

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Someone deeply influential in a subterranean way to comic book culture passed without comment this week: female bodybuilder Lisa Lyon, who was 70. Even if you've never heard of her, I guarantee you've seen her image, or a takeoff of one of her images.

If she seems familiar in some way, there's a reason.

You see, every single artist in the world has it drilled into them that an art swipe (tracing from figure studies or other artists) is unethical, but here’s the thing:

Every single working comic artist does it!

Is it really cheating if everyone does it? Artists love to mock Rob Liefeld for his art swaps, but it is possible to do the same if you dig into the art catalogue of nearly any comic artist, even today. Nowhere else can I find a better example of the old quote that "hypocrisy is the tribute vice pays to virtue."

In any case, there’s no better figure at the center of this than Lisa Lyon, who in the 1980s, was a female bodybuilder who was the center of an enormously influential series of sophisticated physique study photographs by superstar photographer Robert Mapplethorpe. It sounds almost quaint to remember now, but Mapplethorpe was so influential that he was the first photographer to be called to congress for obscenity in the 1980s, based on his male nudes and study of the gay BDSM scene, in a moral panic that sounds extremely familiar. He was also the first photographer to get a video game, the Flowers of Robert Mapplethorpe on CD-I, which was essentially just an image gallery set to muzak, famously reviewed by a completely baffled Angry Video Game Nerd and his sidekick.

youtube

Mapplethorpe’s favorite subject was Lisa Lyon, and his photographs were so widespread that they were essentially traced and used for art swipes over and over by comic artists that need a study of a muscular female physique.

So at different points, photograph swipes of Lisa Lyon were the model used for Wonder Woman, She-Hulk, tons of fighting game characters....it's impossible to list all the times a Lisa Lyon photograph was swiped. We may never find them all. Most importantly of all, she was not only swiped but was the physical inspiration for the appearance of Elektra.

Frank Miller always had a foot in the fine art world, and like his mentor, Philip Jose Farmer, was also interested in the theme of how violence is often a substitute for sexuality in the lives of adventure characters. Miller was always fascinated by BDSM (which to me, explains a lot of 300), and explicitly said in many interviews he based Elektra physically on Lisa Lyon and was a great fan of Mapplethorpe.

#lisa lyon #photography #robert mapplethorpe #comics #Youtube

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magics-neptunes-things · 28 days

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Feelings (1)

Hi guys :)

So this is a new serie and I wanted to thanks @cathhamel for encouraging me to post it. I don't know how many chapter it will have, it will depends of how much you like it I think.

I really hope you will like it.

Please enjoy ♥

TW : Suggestive.

PART 2 |

______________________________________________________________

As long as you remember, you always have been in love with Alessia. She is a year older than you, but she catches your eyes almost as soon as you met her. She was sweet, full of talents and of course everyone seemed to like her. You liked her too, but it was more love than friendship.

It has been five years, and you never told her anything. Alessia is straight, always talking about her boyfriend at the time or the boy who catch her eyes. You can’t say that she’s a great friend, you never have been very close of her to be honest. You are way more friend with Maya, who you know since your first step together for the Lionesses. Alessia is closer with Ella or Mary, it’s not that you don’t get along. It’s more that you become very shy when it comes to talk to her.

Maya knows about your long-term feelings for Alessia. She sometimes teases you about it, but you seem so desperate about it that she doesn’t do it a lot. You tried to find others girls to help you forget Alessia, but you didn’t succeed. It was even more sad maybe, but that’s the life you choose to live. This gave you a little reputation maybe, but you decide under Leah’s advice not to give a fuck. You do what you have to do, and it will stay that way.

Finding a pretty blonde with blue eyes is even more difficult, because since 2022 you’re playing at Barcelona. Along Lucy and Keira, the Spanish team came for you. You were playing at this time in West Ham and at your age it was a dream coming true. You don’t hesitate to throw your life in England to go to Spain. You didn’t know the language at first, but you learned Spanish and Catalan very quickly. Way more quickly than Keira and even Lucy.

With this team you won a lot of things and with the Lionesses, you won the Euro Cup 2022. You had hope that maybe you can get closer to Alessia with the alcohol and the adrenaline of the victory, but you were wrong.

So now, you are here in Summer camp for the Mondial 2023, in Australia. Sarina had call you to be part of the team, so is Lucy, Keira and of course Alessia. Maya isn’t part of the journey, so is Leah because of her ACL. You were gutted to learn about her injury. Leah always have been like a mentor for you, unlike Lucy who always had the role of the big sister. But you miss Maya in Australia, to be honest.

And you missed her even most, when you learned just before the first game that your girlfriend at the time chose to busy herself during your absence with cheating on you. You weren’t In love with her, but you thought that you can trust her. You were wrong. It was not the breakup who was disturbing for you, but behind betrayed that way. It isn’t something nice, really. You broke up with her, obviously. She asked you for a second chance, which you refuse before blocking her everywhere.

“And she had the nerves to ask you for a second chance?!” Jordan almost shout when Lucy explains to her all the story.

You let her do it, tired of people asking you why you seem so angry and almost sad. You weren’t really sad, but you weren’t really happy too. It was a strange feeling to be honest. You don’t miss your ex-girlfriend, but you are most disappointed to see that another attempt to forget Alessia is failing.

“What a bitch” Mary sighs after Lucy’s nod.

She is at the same table as you this morning, like Lucy, Jordan and surprisingly Ella and Alessia. If Ella seems to be as shocked as the others are, Alessia doesn’t really says anything. But you catch her watching in your direction a lot of time when you look at her too.

You don’t know how Sarina heard about that, but you assured her that you can still play as good as always. So, she lines up for your first game, against South Corea. You scored that day, like Georgia, Alessia and Lauren James. The first win was unbelievable, playing in almost full stadium too. And scoring your first goal in a Mundial was amazing.

Georgia decided to head a little hiding party, inviting everyone who wants to come. You did but spend almost all your time drinking your beer while watching Alessia. She’s so beautiful that you want to cry. You know you will never have her in any way, why can’t you stop those stupid feelings?

You would need to confide in someone, but Maya is probably not reachable now, being in England, so is Leah. You have friends in Barcelona, but they are here too and probably asleep. And Lucy is nowhere to be found, either in her room or on the phone with her own girlfriend. So, you decide to go in your room too, maybe to try to drink something stronger to forget all of this shit.

********

In your room, you sigh, disappointed. Your fridge is empty, probably an ask made by the English Federation. You understand, of course you can’t get hungover right now. How did Georgia find those beer anyway? You lie down on your bed, looking at the ceiling for a long moment before deciding to take a shower.

You slowly take your things and head for the bathroom. You stay a long time under the hot water too, needing time to wash all your feelings of the previous day. When you come out, you have decided to focus on the games and your play, not everything else. You have to.

Sarina, your teammates, your friends and your family are counting on you to have a great result. Your family is still in England for now, in the north of England. They will come after the qualifications, hopping England will pass the qualifications. You want to make your family proud, of course. You left them to play football very young and are used to be far away from them. But you still love them and their opinion are the most important for you.

Only wearing a oversize t-shirt and a shorty, you left your bathroom with your hair wet. You will hate yourself tomorrow, but you decide to sleep like this, not taking the time to dry them.

You were going under the cover when you hear someone knock on your door. Frowning, you go to open it, wondering who can come to you at this time of the night. Maybe Lucy who just hang up with Ona and need to cool off. Things are awful in Spanish Federation and you are happy to be English right now. You open the door, waiting to be faced to Lucy. But you were wrong.

“Alessia?”

The blonde is looking at you, looking like she’s wondering too what she’s doing here.

“Hi” she says with her sweet voice. “Can I come in, please?”

“Uh, sure” you answer with a second late.

You let her in, closing the door slowly behind her. Her perfume is tickling your nose and God. What is she doing here? You turn to her, she is in the middle of your room, playing with her fingers.

“How can I help you?” you ask her, beckoning her to sit down on your bed.

She’s still playing with her fingers and rings when she starts talking, but you leave her fingers with your eyes when she starts talking.

“I learn what happened with your girlfriend” Alessia starts.

“Ex” you mumble, shrugging.

“Yeah. But I just wanted to know that if you need someone to talk about it, you can come to me. I know I’m not Leah or Maya, but if you need someone, it can be me.”

You look at her, surprised. You don’t know what you were waited about her presence in your room, but definitely not that. The gesture touches you, very clearly. But you don’t want to lie to her or that she imagines things.

“I really appreciate it, honestly. But I have to let you know that I wasn’t really in love with her.”

“No?”

You shake your head negatively, then shrug your shoulders. It was weird to explain that the girl you are in love with why you weren’t in love with your ex-girlfriend.

“I trusted her and we had fun together, but I wasn’t in love. The betrayal still hurt, though.”

Alessia nods thoughtfully, biting her lips. And you have to take all your self-control to drag your eyes away from her. You feel like a disgusting teenager sometimes. Maybe when she left you will need another shower. Cold, this time.

“So, do you have someone else in mind?”

This conversation is unreal. Your eyes almost jump on Alessia’s silhouette with that question and you don’t know what to answer. Some seconds passes and you still haven’t answered anything. You gulp and take a breath, but Alessia is finally the first to talk again.

“I see you, you know. Looking at me.”

Ok, this is maybe the moment where you will die. You are mortified. You thought that you were being subtle about it, always looking when Alessia isn’t. You try to be respectful too, not staring at her in the changing room or when she’s not fully clothed. You feel yourself blush, a bright red blush, and you are definitely not ready for the last sentence leaving Alessia’s lips.

“I’m looking at you too”

It’s a whisper, that you probably wouldn’t have heard anywhere but in the silence of your room. You are now looking in her eyes, deep, looking for the truth.

“Alessia, if this is a joke…”

“It’s not!” Alessia takes your hand and comes infinitely close to you. “I swear it’s not.”

Her first answer was almost shout, unlike the second. Her eyes are in yours, her hand squeezing yours and you can think straight anymore. You lean to kiss her and it’s even more everything than you thought it would be. Her lips are sweet, soft and taste like strawberry. Just when you wanted to break the kiss to check that if your action were ok, a whimper left Alessia’s lips, and you just want to hear that sound again and again.

You extend the kiss, not leaving the opportunity when Alessia parts her lips. Your tongue caresses her bottom lip before starting to explore her mouth. You never felt so many feelings to be honest. You almost were shaking.

Wanted to feel her closer, you put your hand on her neck, taking her more against you. When she passes her hand in your now semi-wet hair, you make you fall delicately on the bed. Deciding not to lye on her right now, you lye next to her, on your front while she’s on her back.

When air became an issue, you break the kiss this time. Alessia’s lips were swollen, probably like yours. Her breathing was fast and deep, her chest rising irregularly to the rhythm of her breathing.

Alessia is the one initiating the kiss this time, taking you against her. You let her do it, obviously. This time your chest in on hers and the feeling adding with the kiss is driving you crazy. You manage to keep calm for more kisses, but when her hands are on your back and ass, you try to escape her arms.

“We need to stop” you breath difficulty.

“Why?”

Alessia’s disappointment is hard to miss and it’s flattering. But once again, you chose to be honest with her.

“Because if we don’t stop now, I won’t be able to stop after, Less.”

You saw in her eyes that she understands perfectly what you mean. She bites your lips, from under you and the gesture make enjoyable sensation right in your core. But you have to ignore it.

“What if I want the after?”

You don’t know in what parallel universe you are, honestly. But you need to check that she was being serious and sure of herself. And if she wasn’t drunk too, but you only saw her drink Pepsi tonight.

“I want it, Y/N” is her only answer.

You look at her eyes for several seconds before leaning it again, kissing her on the lips once again. The feeling is intoxicating, honestly. You don’t know it this is a one-time thing or not, but you take your time anyway.

Discovering her is like a dream and you take all the time necessary to remember every part of her. You touch, kiss and stroke every part of her body, trying to remember to what sound she makes at every move. You are kissing her neck, lying between her thighs with her in underwear when she speaks again, whispering softly.

“I’ve never been with a girl before.”

You leave her neck to be able to look at her better, looking at her babyblue eyes. You want her to be comfortable and make this night about her. Not about you fulfilling your fantasies, even if it’s the case right now.

“We still can stop it if you don’t feel right. Just one word and we stop”

She nods, biting her lip once again.

“I don’t want to stop. But I don’t know how to do things.”

She looks shy and you are filled with another feeling than pleasure or wanted. Alessia trusts you and it’s more than everything you ever wanted.

“I will show you” you smile softly.

She smiles back and you return of what you were doing. She seems to relax this time, letting her body fully in your hands. She’s still a little shy at first, but she seems to learn fast. And it’s just amazing.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo

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sebscore · 1 year

Text

THE GRID'S DELIGHT | SERIES MASTERLIST

summary: the shenanigans of female gen z driver and the formula one grid.

author’s note: I started this series, because I'd like to imagine what it would be like to be part of the group of drivers and how it would be like to interact with them on a regular basis. It's all fun and games, and I don't know these people in real life. everything is fiction! the stories aren't written in chronological order, but I try to put them in the right order below!

Requests are always welcome in my inbox! Opinions, thoughts and feedback are also greatly appreciated.

— ABOUT THE OC

HEADCANONS || MORE HEADCANONS

:: Things about being the only female driver on the ‘22 grid.

DRIVER X TGD HEADCANONS

:: The dynamics between driver!reader and the formula 1 drivers. in the link you can find the masterlist.

EXTRAS

:: this includes thoughts, opinions, etc about the series. it doesn’t include requests.

— 2018

WELCOME TO THE STRANGE WORLD

:: Y/N makes her F1 debut at the 2018 Australian Grand Prix.

THE PRIZE THAT KEEPS ON GIVING

:: Y/N accepts the 'Rookie of the Year' award and receives a suprise from a special someone on stage.

— 2020

TWITCH WAR

:: lando insults Y/N’s gaming skills and the events that followed.

PLEASE RISE FOR THE NATIONAL ANTHEM

:: An error in the sound system causes for the wrong song to play instead of Y/N’s national anthem.

— 2021

THE MORE YOU KNOW

:: Y/N teaches Sebastian and Fernando what ‘bop’ means.

NO ONE LIKES A MAD WOMAN

:: Y/N receives a complaint from the FIA during the driver's briefing and no one is happy about it.

BREAK UP WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND, I'M BORED

:: Y/N flirts with a stranger not knowing she's the girlfriend of another F1 driver on the grid.

THIS IS ALL I NEVER WANTED

:: Y/N goes through a rough patch and the drivers notice.

LET IT SPIRAL

:: Y/N gets into a crash and Seb & George come to the rescue.

SLOW DOWN, RED FLAG

:: The commentators are shocked by Y/N’s red flag habit.

BE YOUR WINGMAN

:: Y/N tries to get through an interview with Jenson, Daniel and Sebastian.

GIDDY GOODBYES

:: Y/N and Kimi bid each other goodbye at the 2021 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix.

— 2022

A MAN’S WORLD

:: Y/N is asked about Christian Horner’s sexist comments.

THE ORIGIN OF RUSSY BUSSY

:: the title is pretty self-explanatory.

WHAT HAPPENS IN MONACO, STAYS IN MONACO

:: Y/N goes on a blind date and returns with a hickey the next day.

THE HELMET BET

:: Y/N and Zhou decide who the second best dressed driver on the grid is through a bet that involves holding the other drivers hostage at the driver's briefing.

GOSSIP GRID

:: Charles and Pierre don't trust Y/N when it comes to rumors around Oscar Piastri's move to McLaren.

RUMOUR HAS IT

:: Y/N and her fellow younger drivers react to certain rumours that have been going around about her love life, and it might include two colleagues of hers.

MONZA MANICURE

:: Daniel makes it up to Y/N for breaking her nail during a race.

LITTLE MISS BLACK DRESS

:: f1 drivers and their reactions to Y/N looking gorgeous in a dress.

KEEPING UP WITH THE GRID

:: What happens when Y/N takes over Martin's grid walk?

THE LAST SUPPER

:: The drivers celebrate the life and career of Sebastian Vettel at Abu Dhabi and Y/N has a great story to tell.

— 2023

INTERNATIONAL WOMEN'S DAY

:: Daniel, Lewis and Sebastian show their appreciation for Y/N on International Women's Day.

GLASS HALF FULL KINDA GAL

:: Y/N goes on Instagram live to try out Daniel’s new wine, and the drivers react to it in the comments.

MONTE-CARLO MADNESS

:: Y/N meets her old mentor after months and experiences a chaotic qualifying in Monaco.

PUT IT INTO SPEED DRIVE

:: Y/N and the Twitch Quartet go on a small adventure in the streets of Monaco.

SNITCHES GET STITCHES

:: A collection of moments at the 2023 Austria Grand Prix.

LATE NIGHT TALKING

:: Pierre asks the question: “Out of all the drivers, who would you date?”

— 2024

EXCUSE ME

:: Y/N finds out about Lewis’ Ferrari move before the official announcement.

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fics #formula 1 fic #f1 x oc

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harunovella · 3 months

Text

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ love language (verse iii); s.g.

synopsis: a first date with gojo satoru? maybe... or maybe not... content: canon divergence (still teen!gojo era!), fem!reader, hopeless romantic gojo, best bros satoru and suguru bickering as always, gojo has given you a nickname (and I will now claim reader and gojo as "gojo and his mochi"), unimpressed nanami, not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: another addition to my gojo anthology series! I'm having sm fun writing these lil things for myself and you all! also... should I start a tag list? lmk in the replies!

"Nanami Kento, Haibara Yu, and," Yaga Masamichi introduced before gesturing in your direction, speaking your name. "You may know the first two already but we've got another sorcerer to the school roster." Continuing his speech towards his three students that sat before him, Suguru and Shoko listened closely, eyeing a brooding Kento and a smiley Yu... while Satoru gazed at you with the biggest heart eyes. He didn't seem to care if he was obvious, after his first interaction with you ever (possibly the best moment of his life), he made it his goal to see you at least once a day. If you were away on missions, or busy during a lecture, he'd find a way to see you... even if it was from afar. "I want you three to mentor them from now on. Each of you teaming up with one of them and spending at least an hour a day to help them boost up their technique—"

"I'll be partnered up with mochi!" Gojo exclaimed, interrupting his teacher with a hand in the air.

"What's the point of raising your hand if you're gonna interrupt anyway?" Geto teased, earning a look from his best friend as he stuck out his tongue.

"Who... is mochi?" Yaga asked, pinching the bridge of his nose, never quite getting used to his white haired student.

Pointing at you and speaking your name, you stood there with wide eyes and a blush. You weren't new to Gojo's behavior, after you first met him (helping you rescue your now kitten off a tree), you had plenty of... interesting interactions. At first, it was a lot to take in, seeing as he was very eccentric and grew really comfortable with you so easily, but after some time, you grew comfortable with it. With him. However, him calling you one of his favorite treats was a first. "She's cute like a mochi—"

"Oh, god..." Shoko shook her head as Suguru raised his eyebrows.

"That's a first," Yu spoke up, covering his mouth as he couldn't help but chuckle.

"No," the shared teacher spoke. "You will not be paired with her—"

"What! Why not?! We're best friends!" Satoru whined as you looked away with a subtle blush.

"Psht, that's harsh, am I now forgotten?" Suguru crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat. "What if I want to team up with mochi?" The young man smirked, earning a scowl from his best friend.

"Never call her that again," Gojo hissed, earning a laugh from Geto.

"Enough, you two, she will be partnered up with Shoko. Knowing you two, you'd end up getting her hurt somehow," earning a gasp from the two boys, you couldn't help but smile, biting your bottom lip at the way they reacted. "I trust Nanami and Haibara will be fine in either of your care."

"Ugh," Gojo groaned.

"I suppose that's fair," Geto shrugged, earning a shove from Gojo in which he shoved back. "Who are we teamed up with, then?"

"Geto, you'll be paired up with Haibara," hearing a faint cheer come from Yu, Kento only sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Which means Gojo, you'll be paired up with Nanami."

"Well, if I can't have my mochi, I guess Nanamin is fine!" Gojo crossed his arms behind his head. "No offense, Haibara! Nanamin is just great company to tease," he grinned, earning an eye roll from the young, blond man.

"Perfect, today will be your first day. Report back here in an hour. Get to know one another's abilities better." At that, Yaga dismissed the class, Shoko rushing up to you and interlocking arms as she pulled you out with her. You couldn't help but look back at Satoru, seeing his grin towards Kento turn into a frown as he looked at you. Sending him a small smile and wave, he waved back, happy that he at least got your attention for the time being.

Weeks then passed after Yaga paired everyone off, though it didn't change how things went—specifically missions—Gojo found another reason to see you. At least, another way to see you. Shoko's RCT required her to be in specific places, so he was well aware of where to find you when he wasn't with his own classmates. Nanami, on the occasion, was dragged along. Forced to watch his senior poorly flirt with you when you (shockingly) didn't seem too bothered by it. Instead, it made you flustered. You seemed to have enjoyed Satoru's attention. Of course, it never lasted long with Ieiri kicking both boys out (or just Gojo if he was the only one there) because she was busy being a good mentor and teaching you.

"I'm bored," Satoru whined as he sat on a bench, eyeing Kento as he trained on the open field. "This pairing up thing isn't all that fun."

"That's because you're not doing your job as my senior," Nanami spoke with a lack of enthusiasm.

"What's there to teach you? You're good as it is," he waved a hand as he sipped at his milk box. "I just wanna see my mochi..."

Sighing, Nanami shook his head before lifting it from his palm as he massaged his temples. A faint smile grew on his lips at the sight of you approaching, it seemed as if Shoko had lead the way before parting to go on her own route. You waved happily as he waved back, only to look at his senior to see that he hadn't noticed you. Grinning, Nanami quietly made his way towards you, his fellow classmate. To anyones shock, the two of you actually grew close. You saw one another like siblings, getting along quite well and actually maintaining interesting conversations. No one would've figured, he was a quiet boy and only really spoke when spoken to, but you brought something out of him. You always found something to speak about. Maybe it was your shared love for baked goods, or the possibility that you weren't annoying like most of the people around him. You were timid, but you were also very kind and social with those you were comfortable with. "How'd it go today?"

"Good, Shoko is very skilled, it's a shame we don't focus much on her technique. RCT is very important, no one does it like her." Smiling up at him as the two of you bumped fists, you then peeked over to Satoru, who was now lying on the bench, completely unaware of your presence. "Is he okay?"

"Being lazy as always," Nanami shrugged, but you slightly frowned. "Don't worry about it."

"What are you two babbling about?!" Gojo called out, not realizing who he had been yelling at.

"I'll catch you later..." the blond said before patting your head, then walking away.

"Hey, I asked you a—" Sitting up and realizing who he had been yelling at, Gojo's eyes widened as he gulped. "Mochi!"

"Hi, Satoru," you greeted with a kind smile, causing him to blush. "Long day?"

Instantly standing up, nearly tripping over his own feet, he shook his head. "No! I was just... taking a break! Y'know... training others can be so tiring," he frowned while slumping forward as you let out a small laugh. "Especially someone as skilled as Nanamin!"

"Right," You nodded. "I hadn't seen you all day. I was thinking..."

Blinking a few times as he watched you approach, Gojo gulped, "yeah?"

"We should get an early dinner—"

"Now?" His eyes widen as he stood straight, earning another laugh from you.

"Mhm, or later, whatever you prefer—"

"Now! Now is good," He nodded, meeting you halfway before he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. "I know the perfect place! Plus, right next door, they sell some delicious mochi..." He grinned as you smiled up at him.

"Is this our first date?" Gojo teased as you sat on a bench, sharing a box of mochi. The dinner was as great as he had promised, a cute little restaurant that Gojo frequented. Satoru tried his best to impress you with his cooking skills, only to burn half of what he ordered. You couldn't help but laugh it off, deciding to cook the rest—in which he praised your skills (and promised to improve his own for the next time). For someone trying to do some impressing, he's constantly teetering between being shy and letting his confidence kick in (even if it was false, trying to win you over).

"Hmm, I was the one who asked to go to dinner," you said, biting into your mochi. "Shouldn't I decide that?"

"Wait!" Gojo lifted his hands, pulling the box of mochi away as you tilted your head. "I took us here to get our dessert," he nudged his head back, towards the stand.

"So..." you trailed.

"So... this could be our first date!" He beamed, earning a look from you as you playfully lifted an eyebrow.

"Maybe."

#harunovella writes;#gojo and his mochi series #gojo #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo fluff #gojo au #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you

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worksby-d · 8 months

Text

A Great Mentor: Only If You Like It

A One Shot

Summary: You sit down with Andy to settle on a first and middle name for your daughter.

Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!Reader

Warnings: None 🥰

Word count: ~800

a/n: Even though this is part of a series, it can def be read alone. I MISS THIS SERIES SO MUCH.

All you want to do is say hi and let him know you’re home, but he doesn’t give you the chance, pouting when you walk into his home office.

“No,” he groans–almost whines as if you ruined something–gently closing his laptop as he drags the word out. “You’re home already?”

You open your mouth to retort, but you just scoff, “Yeah.” And you raise a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Don’t sound so happy about it.”

“No, that’s not–” He shakes his head, laughing a little. He holds his arm out and waves you in to come closer to him and you roll your eyes as you push off the door frame to let him draw you in. “I’m just finishing up, sweetheart. But I wanted to have dinner ready before you got home for once.”

“Well, that’s okay,” you chuckle. “Don’t worry about it.”

He takes your hand once you get within reach of him, and you know where he wants you, but you just lean against his desk instead.

It’s his turn to give you a questioning look. He’s used to you sitting on his lap.

“C’mere…”

“I’m getting too heavy for that,” you mumble, resisting his gentle tug.

“No you’re not,” he laughs quietly, giving one more reassuring try. “I’m strong, I promise.”

You give in, letting him pull you down to sit with him. With one arm around your back and his other hand on your growing belly, he gets you to relax.

“See, you’re fine,” he winks.

You ignore his told you so, wanting to get back to the cooking thing.

“I’d rather cook anyway.” You never let an opportunity to tease him slip away. “Remember that time I got sick after eating your parmesan chicken?”

“Hey now,” he chuckles. “That was before we were even together.”

“I know, I had to lie to my parents and say I was hungover the next morning when I was lying on their bathroom floor,” you laugh, giving him a playful shove. “Because telling them I was wasted was safer than telling them I was sneaking around with you the night before!”

“That was so long ago.” He shakes his head thinking back. “I’m sorry my cooking is subpar and maybe known for getting you sick once… or twice. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, giving him a quick consolation kiss.

“How was your day?”

“Good,” you sigh, leaning against him a little more. “Really long.”

“Mm,” he hums, just holding you a moment, enjoying the quiet after all day. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you smile. He reminds you every chance he gets, especially during the past few months. “I–We,” you correct yourself, placing your hand on top of his over your stomach. “–Want to talk about something.”

“Yeah?”

“About her name…” Your voice trails off as you wait for his reaction.

“Honey–” He chimes in immediately. “I’ve been thinking about it. I like Evren. I think it’s a beautiful name.”

You try to interrupt him. You don’t need to settle on her first name yet. But he doesn’t let you stop him.

“I can tell you really love it. And it’s growing on me… I think.”

You laugh a little at his rambling, running your fingers through his hair.

“You really like it?”

“Yeah, angel.”

“That was easy,” you tease, sitting up proudly as if you just won something. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to talk about middle names…”

He gives you a look, clearly confused. He doesn’t see the need for that yet without having agreed on a first name thus far.

“I was just going to say that whatever we choose for her first name has to go with her middle name,” you explain. “And I have one that I want to run by you.”

“Oh, this’ll be good,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes jokingly.

“Stop,” you laugh, swatting at his arm before getting more serious. “How do you feel about Marianne?”

“Mari–” He softly begins to repeat it, processing what you said. “Like my mom? Marianne?”

“Yeah,” you nod slowly.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” you let out a small laugh. “It’s a beautiful name. But only if you like it.”

“I love it,” he quickly assures you. “Evren Marianne…”

It’s your turn to repeat him, mirroring his smile as you listen to how the names sound together out loud.

“I love you,” he whispers, resting his head on your shoulder. “You’re sure?”

“I’m so sure,” you promise. He lifts his head to look at you when you gently nudge him. “I love when you talk about your mom. I want Evren to know her.”

He nods, leaning to give you a soft kiss. “Me too.”

Tag list: @patzammit @denisemarieangelina @thummbelina @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc @astheskycries @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @la-cey @turtoix @katiew1973 @harrysthiccthighss @tvckerlance @rocketrhap3000 @mrspeacem1nusone @murdcox @geminievans1 @doozywoozy @americasass91 @dwights-new-plague @wwwmarissa92 @redhairedfeistynerd @whxre4cevans @aubreeskailynn @white-wolf1940 @melchills-j @xoxabs88xox @before-we-get-started @chrissquares @christowhore @ice-dtae @mariestark @justile @rogersbarber @dilfbarber @livstilinski @payperhearts @vintagestarlight @gitasor @chaeycunty @miss-ariella @bemysugarbean @t-stark35 @seitmai @reginaphalange2403 @raelorns21 @mrsgweasley @pandaxnienke @brandycranby

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber fanfic #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfic #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber imagine #a great mentor series

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aspoonofsugar · 3 months

Note

Hi! Where do you think Alastor's arc is going? Redemption or villainy?

Hi!

Thank you for the ask, I loved watching Hazbin Hotel and I am happy I can write for the series :)

As for now, I think Alastor will spiral and hurt Charlie very badly, but he will eventually redeem himself (probably in a key moment). That is because Alastor is framed as Charlie's Jungian shadow.

What is the Jungian Shadow?

According to Jung, the shadow is what a person represses, both positive and negative. So, it can be one's violent tendencies, but also one's potential and energy. It really depends on the person.

So, why does Alastor fit the Shadow Archetype? Well, first of all:

Alastor's powers make use of shadows. Not only that, but Alastor's own shadow is very expressive and shows the demon's repressed feelings. In other words:

On the one hand Alastor embodies the shadow, in the sense he represents what Charlie refuses to face

On the other hand Alastor himself represses his emotions behind a smiling face:

Alastor: Just because you see a smile, don't think you know what is going on underneath. A smile is a valuable tool, my dear. It inspires your friends, keeps your enemies guessing and ensures tha no matter what comes your way, you're the one in control.

This is a good characterization for a jungian shadow because the shadow grows stronger and more dangerous, when it's ignored. So, the most one refuses to face their feelings, the most these feelings fester and grow powerful and dangerous. This fits Alastor both when it comes to others and to his own character:

He takes advantage of an emotional unstable and vulnerable Charlie to strike an abimguous deal with her. Similarly, he uses Husk's gambling addiction to steal his soul. He uses people's weaknesses an unsolved problems to take over.

He suffocates his feelings, which symbolically manifest in his powerful shadow-tentacles. His design and abilities are representative of his psychological coping mechanism, which is nothing, but repression.

As written above, though, the Jungian Shadow can be both negative and positive depending on what one hides. This duality is shown in Alastor's two roles in Charlie's arc:

He is a demonic archetype (even moreso than Lucifer, the titular devil), as he waits in the shadows for a chance to manipulate Charlie

He is an evil mentor, as he genuinelly likes Charlie, sees her potential and wants to guide her towards greatness:

She's filled with potential that I could guide

This isn't a contradiction, but complexity. Alastor is chaotic and mixes negative traits and intentions with positive ones. Just like what people repress can be both bad and good, usually at the same time.

This is clear when it comes to the Princess of Hell:

Charlie to Alastor: What's that you said about smiles?

Charlie is similar to Alastor in how she represses herself behind her pollyanna persona and her smile. This doesn't mean she is faking her altruism and generosity, but that she is using these traits to hide something else:

Lute: The only reason you're still here is that Daddy gave you and your Hellborn-kind a pardon from an exorcist's blade. How does that feel? To know how little you matter.

Deep down, Charlie invests herself in the Hazbin Hotel project because she wants to matter. She feels powerless and unimportant, as a result of her parents' neglects and of Hell's difficult situation.

So, our protagonist has strong self-issues that she refuses to face:

Husk: Princess is a bleedy heart who wants to solve everybod else's problems, 'cept her own.

That said, this isn't the only thing Charlie represses. The Princess of Hell hides:

Every negative emotions she feels, like her self-hate or her anger at Vaggie for hiding her true identity:

Rosie: How does that make you feel? Charlie: Just... angry? Because we share everything! Because she always supported me, and my ideas, and now I don't know whether or not that was just more of the lies... Oh no, that's a horrible thing to think! Do I think that? Yes! No? Kinda?

Her most violent and aggressive side, which makes so she is unable to make full use of her powers:

Vaggie: Well, I mean... You're the princess of Hell, but you don't really use the power that comes with that. Mybe you can, I don't know? Command a little more... authority. Charlie: But that's so mean.

In short, by repressing her negative feelings, she also represses her potential. It is only by facing herself as a whole, that she can fully grow and bloom into her most powerful and complete self:

This is made clear in Charlie's quest in Cannibal Town. There, our girl is at her lowest, but she is pushing herself forward for the sake of her loved ones. She is trying to imitate Alastor by smiling, even if she is sour inside. However, things do not go well and it is only through her heart to heart chat with Rosie, that Charlie is able to pull herself together and inspire her people. Symbolically, she gets through them not with a 100% optimistic song like "Inside of every demon is a rainbow". Rather she opens her speech, by showing vulnerability and honesty:

It's a feeling like a rumbling in your gut That you could finally be faced with A billion needy faces I guess what I mean to say is For the first time in my life I might have to be ready for this Ready to be the one who's leading from the front Gotta come into my own Gotta come into my throne Gotta take charge and defend my only home And although I kinda feel unsteady Now I need to be ready for this

She affirms who she is and her willingness to grow into herself:

For the first time in my life Maybe I can be ready for this I can be the marshal leading the parade I can come into my own And I think I've always known My destiny could never be postponed When Adam brings the battle here I must appear like I'm ready for this

So, it is only by tapping into her own shadow that Charlie can be successfull. It is through expression and not repression that she can reach her goals.

What about Alastor?

He is the same, but so far he has been refusing to open up to others:

Angel: He's been here a while and he's still a big, creepy mystery.

That said, his time at the Hazbin Hotel has had an impact on him. He is forced to deal with others without killing them:

Vaggie: Pentious's eggs are all over the place. I need you to get rid of them. (...) Humanely!

He is shown cutting ties with a poisonous friend:

He openly admits he likes the people of the hotel:

Alastor: Ah, an enjoyable collective to be around. I admit one could get accustomed.

However, he still refuses to openly show vulnerability and ends up like this:

Let's highlight that Charlie and Alastor are foiled in The Show Must Go On song.

Both stand in the ruins of their homes/dreams.

The Hotel:

I took a hotel, and I destroyed it I know I could have done better Better, instead of letting you down

The Radio Station:

This place reeks of death There's a chill in the air And I barely escaped being killed by a hair

And both decide not to give up and to keep pursuing their objectives. However, Charlie is framed positively, while Alastor negatively. Why?

Charlie sings about her feelings openly and is supported by her father and found family:

Alastor sings about his pain privately and even then he barely shows his desperation before going back to his villanious mask:

Symbolically the moment Alastor reunites with the Hotel Crew, he sings:

And we're doing it with a smile!

He is back in control of himself, ready to hide everything behind his neverchanging smile.

So, Alastor is both Charlie's negative foil and Jungian Shadow. As her negative foil, he is bound to spiral. As her Jungian Shadow he is bound to be saved. Why is that so? Two reasons.

The Jungian Shadow can't be killed, but needs to be integrated with.

The main themes of the series are redemption and love, so it is improbable that Charlie won't help the person, who co-founded the hotel with her.

If anything, it seems that our princess is progressively asked to forgive, inspire and see the good in more and more complex cases.

It starts with Angel, who willingly stays at the Hotel. It goes on with Pentious, who infiltrates the Hotel, but makes no real damage. Then Lucifer, whom Charlie loves, but that has been absent from the majority of her life. Finally, Vaggie, who breaks Charlie's trust.

Each conflict Charlie has challenges her in a different way and helps her discover herself and grow. She is bound to meet new struggles when Lilith becomes a broken pedestal and finally when Alastor betrays or hurts her. Still, she is going to forgive and to understand them.

Charlie is going to see the good in Alastor and to better understand herself as a result. As a matter of fact Charlie's journey is one where she is slowly discovering a world, which isn't black and white:

If Hell is forever, then Heaven must be a lie If angels can do whatever, and remain in the sky The rules are shades of gray when you don't do as you say When you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again

Just like people aren't black and white. Just like she herself isn't black and white. By saving Alastor, she is gonna save herself too. Together with the whole universe.

And what about Alastor? Well, he needs to work on himself, as well. He too must integrate with his shadow, who is embodied by a certain character:

Husk is a powerful overlord, who lost his soul to a demon. Just like Alastor:

Husk: Big talk for someone, who's also on a leash.

Alastor and Husk are both on a leash. Still, Husk admits it and starts working on his shortcoming:

Husk: You're a loser, just like me

Alastor instead affirms his willingness to be in control and to pull the strings:

Once I figure out how to unclip my wings Guess who will be pulling all the strings?

Alastor is a loser, just like Husk. Just like all the characters in hell. Sinners vs Winners. And yet, he refuses to admit it. This is why he makes no progress. Similarly, he wants freedom, but enslaves others. This isn't going to work out, which is why I am fairly certain he will eventually set Husk free. Probably by doing so, Alastor will make the first real step towards his own freedom. He will start integrating his own shadow.

Thank you for the ask!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel meta #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #charlie morningstar #my meta #asksfullofsugar #anonymous

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sprout-fics · 7 months

Text

Laswell Appreciation Post

Can we talk about how amazing this woman is for a moment?

Laswell is a high level intelligence analyst with over a decade of experience in and off the field. Her acumen for statecraft and spyfare is incredible. This woman graduated Suma Cum Laude from Cornell, has a Master's degree in strategic intelligence analysis and studied Near East linguistics at the American University of Beirut. She speaks fluent Arabic, knows her way around weapons, and once broke a terrorist's neck with her bare hands.

(LOOK AT HER!)

Her bio says that Laswell rewrote the book on unconventional information warfare, climbed the ranks and became her own female mentor. She's survived a terrorist bombing, became a station chief, refused to testify before a senate hearing, was in charge of a SAD blacksite, and has been credited with saving tens of thousands of lives.

-and that's just the stuff from her bio.

Laswell is a support character during the entire series, but without her the entire story would crumble. Laswell is the one to recruit Price to find the missing Russian chemicals in MW2019. She is the one to find Hassan in MW2022. She is the one who went out in the field herself to see the job is done correctly. All of the information that 141, Alex and Farah, and Los Vaqueros act upon comes directly from Laswell. Hell, this woman got captured by Al-Qatala in the process of trying to find the missing missiles. Laswell is the one to find out how Shadow Company and Shepherd lost them in the first place. She's the one who tugs on the Russian thread and reveals the villain of MW2023, Makarov.

Laswell's achievements are often overshadowed by the plot and gameplay, but goddamn is she such a great example of a powerful female character, and an older one at that! (Note, older refers to being older than many female heroines in their 20's, not to be confused with being old.) I can't think of an instance in any of the games where she is sexualized or objectified, and even when she is kidnapped she's shown not as a damsel in distress, but as a woman who can hold her own as soon as the time is right. Plus, what does she do immediately after being rescued? Goes straight back to business and figures out the real root of the campaign.

I admit I'm fairly surprised to see such a well written female character in a series that historically caters to men. The writers for the game did a fantastic job in creating an absolutely amazing character who is skilled, well-rounded, and extremely compelling. Please hear it for the queen herself!

Also gay rights to Laswell and her wife specifically 💅

#kate laswell #laswell cod #laswell mw2 #call of duty laswell #call of duty mw2 #mw2022

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runningfrom2am · 4 months

Text

cold nights // part one

summary: all the stars aligned, and it was you.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: yayyy hi! welcome to my new coryo series!! we're back but this time we have tribute!reader and a very different story from lucy gray's (though it might not seem like it just yet- but trust me okay okay).

series masterlist // playlist

"Oh, you'll be happy about this, Miss Crane..." Dean Highbottom says, getting up from where he's sitting on the steps in front of the students. "The 'runt girl', from District Twelve, she belongs to Coriolanus Snow."

Coriolanus gives a slight shake of his head, trying to dismiss his anger. He knew the Dean was out to get him, plotting against him- leaving him with practically no shot at having any success in his mentorship. No matter who he's about to see on that screen walking up to the stage. He was screwed.

"Y/N Y/L/N."

As the name is called and the camera tracks on a girl in the crowd, Coriolanus feels the urge to vomit right there on the floor. He watches as the shock on her face morphs into tears welling in her eyes, just like the girl from Seven. The only difference, being in sharp contrast to that other girl, the tears are contradicted with a smile.

"Why is she smiling, is she stupid?" Arachne laughs, and Coriolanus looks her way only briefly.

The District Twelve girl straightens her shoulders, giving a slight nod to no one in particular, herself, and ignoring the stares from all the kids around her as she makes her way to the cleared path. Coryo tilts his head at her choice of clothes. The fabric covering her looked as though it was a dress, one day long ago, but now it was sewn up in the middle turning it into shorts. He had never seen anything quite like it- it must have been homemade, and old. Like she had been wearing it her whole life; like the article had grown with her.

"Thank you." He reads her lips as she nods to the peacekeepers who accompanied her up to the stage, a polite smile present on her pink lips. She was too nice for her own good- they had nothing for her besides walk to the stage so she couldn't make a run for it. Even with loaded guns with bullets graced with her name, she was thanking them. Great.

"May I?" She says, nodding to the microphone in front of the mayor.

"Please." He agrees, gesturing for her to take his spot. She must be highly respected- this was a trust never granted to tributes.

"Hello," For the first time, Coriolanus hears the voice of the girl who will be his tribute. Her tone is soft, unshaking despite the circumstances. "Thank you all, for being the village that raised us." She looks off-camera toward Lysistrata's tribute. "There's nowhere in the world with kinder people and kinder souls." She quickly wipes a tear away. "My friends of noble touch; when I am forth, Bid me farewell, and smile."

Coriolanus looks around, gauging the reaction of his classmates. Mostly confusion, and he can't help the small smile that tugs at his lips at the sentiment. She clearly meant something to this community, or maybe the opposite. Maybe she meant nothing to them and they were happy to see her go. That's something he had to believe if he wanted to maintain any grasp on the purpose of the games.

"I must go in, the fog is rising." She says, leaving her statement unexplained as she takes a step back, and she's quickly guided away. As far as he knows, there's no fog to be seen in the forecast of the sunny day present in Twelve.

"Well, good luck, Coriolanus. She's clearly out of her mind." Arachne laughs, punctuating the incompletion of the tribute's statement as the faded material of her makeshift dress disappears with the close of the camera lens.

As the train comes to a slow stop, the cars rattle together. Coriolanus tries not to flinch as the waiting peacekeepers slam batons onto the metal doors, shouting for the tributes to get out while they're slid open. He's immediately looking for her, for that cream-coloured dress and the distinct tones of her hair.

The shouting fades out as his eyes lock on her, a dying white rose gripped behind his back. The boy from her district tries to help, but she turns him down. She sits carefully on the edge before lowering herself down, reaching out to gently pat his shoulder in a silent thank you once her feet are back on solid ground.

Coriolanus's feet are carrying him in her direction in under a second. "Hello." He says, clearing his throat and holding the rose out to her as she turns to face him. It's hard to remain indifferent to her beauty, to remain unaffected by the face of a District girl. How did she look so calm? She radiated an aura of peace and he could feel it in the air that surrounded her. What a shame it was that it would evaporate so suddenly in the coming weeks.

"Hi there." You smile, eyes locked on his. You hadn't expected your first interaction with a Capitol citizen to be so pleasant, but you tried to have faith in people. So far, it is paying off as you eye the boy in front of you. His blue eyes and blonde curls were incredibly welcoming, despite the harshness present in the red colouring of his suit.

"Welcome to the Capitol." He smiles, holding the rose out to you. Your cheeks flush as you take the flower from his hand.

"For the rose, though its petals be torn asunder, still smiles on..." You hum, mostly to yourself as you look over the flower you're holding gently in your palm. "Thank you."

"I beg your pardon?" Coriolanus asks, tilting his head at the girl in front of him.

"It's from a poem." You explain. "Roses are representative of things far deeper than love."

"Oh, I see." He replies, still confused.

"What is your name?" You ask, returning your attention to him.

"Coriolanus Snow."

"Coriolanus." You grin. "Is that why you came to greet me?"

He furrows his brow, quickly shaking off his confusion. "No, I am here because I will be your mentor in the games."

"The use of the term 'mentor' implies personal experience." You state, feeling the softness of the rose's petals between your fingers. "But I doubt you're a victor yourself."

"Well, no, but I will try my best to take care of you while you're here." He says, nervous about how much that answer will buy him your trust.

"How ironic." You giggle, tilting your head at him.

"Move!" A peacekeeper pushes past your new friend, shoving you in the opposite direction.

"It was lovely to meet you, Coriolanus! Until we meet again!" You call back at him, smiling down at the rose in your hand as you're corralled toward a truck parked ahead of the train.

"Excuse me," He tries to get the attention of one of the peacekeepers while you are being ushered away from him. "I'd like to escort my tribute to-"

He's completely ignored both times he tries, following after the group of tributes on the way to the truck. He watches you as you ascend the stairs, standing against the back wall. Smiling, still, at the rose he had gifted you from his grandma'ams garden. All the persuasion it took for her to spare just one was worth it just seeing the look on your face now.

Impulsively, as one of the other tributes tries to make a run for it, he bolts up the staircase and into the truck, tucking himself against the back wall next to you while the peacekeepers are distracted.

You look up at him, shocked he would put himself in this position willingly. Surely, he was not meant to. The doors slam closed, and he lifts his head after avoiding catching the attention of the peacekeepers who had ignored him before. "Hello again." You whisper, looking up at him.

"Hi." He whispers back, turning slowly and trying not to cower under the hateful gaze of other tributes.

"What's the matter, pretty boy?" Reaper asks, standing opposite of the two of you. "In the wrong cage?"

"No." Coriolanus replies quickly. "This cage is delightful."

The District Eleven boy is quick to walk over, slamming Coriolanus back against the wall behind you. You gasp, taking the slightest step back. There wasn't much room for movement, and the sway of the moving vehicle was unforgiving.

"I'll kill you-" Reaper threatens him, and the girl from his District speaks up.

"He will. He killed a peacekeeper in Eleven, no one ever knew who did it."

"I say we all kill him."

"Oh, let's not evince what they think of us so quickly." You interject, steadying yourself against the bench behind you. "Only your families will suffer. The pain of one is not worth the loss of others." You look up at him, giving him a reassuring smile. "He's my mentor. I think he's here to help."

"How come you get a mender?" Coral asks, inconvenienced by your rejection of the idea.

"Mentor." Coriolanus corrects her. "You each get one."

"Oh, and we'll all just trust you on that?"

"Like she said, I'm just here to help you." Coriolanus sighs, uncomfortable under Reaper's tight grip on the front of his shirt.

"Why does she get special treatment?" Her attention is turned to you now. "Why aren't our menders here?"

"Here." You say, holding the flower out toward her. "I'm sure they'll come meet you soon, but until then, I'm happy to share."

Coriolanus watches you, breath hitching as you so carelessly offer the gifted rose to another who only wants to see the both of you dead. He's flooded with a mix of anger and admiration- it was hard to tell with what little he knew about you whether or not the action was derived from ignorance or compassion.

Before she can say anything or take the rose from your hand, there's a beeping followed by the steady tilt of the truck. Without thinking, Coriolanus grabs onto your waist as the other tributes stumble and fall back toward the doors. While you return the action of securing yourself to him, he holds onto a loose strap to keep you both in place when the doors fly open and everyone is dumped out, falling down the rocks below.

It isn't long before his hand slips, and the two of you slide down together, losing your hold on each other. Instinctively, you curl up as you roll down over the rocks, holding the precious flower into your chest to try and prevent it from being crushed. You're sore, immediately, and no doubt have some cuts and bruises, but the rose is okay. That makes you feel better as you carefully get up.

You look around, for the first time taking in your new surroundings and realizing you're being watched by many people from outside the bars of this new cage. It looked like you were in a zoo. You had always wanted to go to the zoo, you had read about them in books or heard stories but you and no one you know had ever been to one before.

"You there! In the red! Who are you and why are you in there with them? We're live!" You hear someone shouting and look in Coriolanus's direction as he stumbles to get up next to you.

You can see the panic set in as he looks around at everyone watching. He wasn't meant to be here, this must be embarrassing for him, and that was reflected in how his breathing picked up and his gaze shifted rapidly. "Shall we go say hello?" You ask softly, giving him a small, reassuring smile as you carefully place a hand on his arm to try and ground him. "No one is laughing at you, I think they're just curious."

Coriolanus looks down at you and nods, smiling slightly and ignoring the man as he continues to shout in your direction. "Y/N Y/L/N, may I introduce you to my neighbours?" He asks, confidence regained and you nod.

"Please." You smile, allowing him to take the rose from your hand. At first, you are a little disappointed, you were hoping you would get to keep it, but then when he snaps the stem and reaches up your disappointment quickly disappears as he tucks it gently behind your ear.

His gaze on you is intense as he offers you his hand, which you carefully take. "Well, that's something you don't see every day... They're holding hands." You hear the man's voice again as Coriolanus guides you over to the bars. "Who are you, sir? What are you doing in the cage here?"

His questions go ignored by both of you, when your eyes land on some children walking up to the bars. You'd much rather speak to them. "Hi there, how do you do?" Coriolanus asks them. "My name is Coriolanus Snow, and this is my tribute, Y/N Y/L/N." He smiles at you, lifting your hand closer to his chest as he leans down to speak at the kids' level.

The kids look nervous as they shift their gaze from him to you, but that makes total sense. People like him they felt safe with, people like you they had certainly never met before. "What brought you two to the zoo today? See any animals you could tell me about?" You ask, trying to make them more comfortable as you crouch down.

The boy giggles. "No, there's no animals here. We're here to see you."

"Me?" You gasp, pressing your free hand to your chest. "Why thank you, young man. I am certainly honoured, but where are all the animals? Aren't we in a zoo?" You ask, and the young kids just look back at their parents. Clearly, the zoo had been empty long enough that they'd never known it any other way.

"That's a shame." You speak again when the kids have no answer for you. "When I was your age I wished for a trip to the zoo and after all these years I got one without animals. I should have been more specific. Whoever grants our wishes is sneaky like that." You smile at them, and they both nod as if they'll remember it forever.

"Do you know how to read?" The little girl asks you. "You're really pretty."

"Me? No, I'm not very pretty. This is far from my Sunday best, but you look just stunning sweetheart." You smile at her. "And as a matter of fact, I do know how to read. It's my favourite thing to do, just about."

"You speak very smart for a District girl." The boy agrees.

"Why thank you." You laugh slightly, masking your sadness. These kids are barely old enough to know what that means and they've already been told that you and your people are less than. It's a tragedy, but not their fault.

With that, you stand up straight again, deciding to finally acknowledge the man with the microphone, seemingly desperate for your attention. "Hello, sir. What's your name?" You ask, prompting laughter from his camera crew that confuses you.

"Don't laugh, not everyone has televisions out in the Districts." He tells them, turning back to you. "I'm Lucretius 'Lucky' Flickerman, but more enticingly, who are you, Y/N, from District Twelve?"

"That's me." You nod, smiling as he sticks the mic through the bars so it can pick up your voice. "I was born and raised there, never thought I'd get the chance to see the world but here I am." You nod.

"Here you are." Lucretius nods.

"Ah!" You gasp, after moments of turning over in your head where you knew his name from. Then you remembered. "Why shed tears that you must die? For if your past life has been one of enjoyment, and if all your pleasures have not passed through your mind, as through a sieve, and vanished, leaving not a rack behind, why then do you not, like a thankful guest, rise cheerfully from life's feast and with a quiet mind go take your rest." You quote excitedly, oblivious to the confusion on Coriolanus's face behind you as he watches.

"Why, yes, that is an interesting way to see it." Lucretius replies and you nod, a little disappointed yet again that he didn't understand, but you decide to just move on.

"Are you familiar with my mentor? His name is Coriolanus Snow." You turn your attention back to him, pulling his hand closer to your chest so he'll take a step forward and stand with you instead of behind. "Fitting name, if you ask me. He was the only one brave enough to come and say hello at the train station."

"So the gamemakers did tell you to jump in the cage with them?" Lucretius asks, holding the mic up to your new friend.

"They didn't tell me not to," Coriolanus answers. "They just said it was a mentor's job to introduce our tributes to the citizens of Panem. And I thought, well, if Y/N is brave enough to be here, then why shouldn't I be, too?"

"A Coriolanus indeed." You smile up at him, patting his arm as Lucretius hums. Coriolanus looks confused, but you are well used to that by now, so you just squeeze his hand.

"I think you're about to be whisked away, young man."

You both turn at the sound of feet behind you, and he's quickly being grabbed and pulled away from you. "Thank you, Coriolanus!" You call after him, sad at the expression on his face which shows he didn't want to leave you just yet.

And you were right, he really didn't want to leave you yet.

taglist: @soulessjourney, @keziahcore, @that-veela-girl, @motorsport, @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs, @Lanadelrey3, @rawrmameh, @3zae-zae3, @babyspice6, @pastel0rchid, @maysileeewrites, @articxari, @Urfavpouge, @Multivitaminfy, @baybieruth, @kitscutie, @annaelise, @serrendiipty, @fratboyharrysgf0201, @totallynotkaibiased, @stelleduarte, @klplynn, @secretsicanthideanymore, @bejeweledreverie, @fals3-g0d, @drewsandsebastianswife, @niicole-87, @queenofshinigamis

if your user has a strikethrough i wasn't able to tag you! i'm so sorry!

#tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas x reader #hunger games #the hunger games #thg fanfic #thg series #thg fanfiction #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coryo x reader #coryo snow #snow lands on top #snow x reader

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