#pretty much going to be my entire 2024 I think | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

f1byjessie · 2 months

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A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part nine.

INSTAGRAM.

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mclaren As we get closer and closer to the start of the 2024 season, we thought we’d take the time to introduce new fans to the team that works behind the scenes! Starting us off, we have Y/N L/N, our personal paddock photographer! Y/N has been here with us at McLaren since 2019, and is the genius mind behind many of the photos we’ve posted throughout the years. She’s an important part of our community and helps tremendously in not only capturing our drivers in action, but also in getting the other behind the scenes members of our team the recognition they deserve. We’re glad to have her back here with us in Bahrain, and we can’t wait to see what beautiful concoctions she comes up with this year! 🧡

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user if there is 100 y/n fans, i am one of them. if there is one y/n fan, it is me. if there are no y/n fans, i have died.

user love love LOVE that mclaren takes the time to recognize the hard work of everyone who supports the drivers

↳ user i feel like f1 promotes the racers, team principals, and pit crew so much and forgets about everyone else that makes sure these teams are able to function so seamlessly

user CAN WE GET A MEET THE ADMIN POST TOO??? 👀👀👀

user i bumped into y/n back in silverstone 2021, like literally bumped into her, and she was so sweet!!

user she’s my photography inspo 🤩

user her dedication to the mclaren team is so apparent when you think about the fact that she DOESN’T get the same recognition as the drivers, but she has chosen to work for them for what will be 6 years as of this season. she could have easily move to a different formula 1 team or even another sport entirely, but she still comes back and that’s a dedicated artist

↳ user the fact that she did a little stint over at manchester city fc and STILL chose to come back to mclaren even tho i imagine f1 has a much harsher and stricter schedule with the intercontinental travel than football does

user this is who we have to thank for all those beautiful shots of lando??? cuz if so, bless her omg 🙏🙏🙏

user in this household we appreciate the crew that works tirelessly to keep us entertained

user so tired of seeing ppl disregard her skill as a photographer just bc of who she’s dating

↳ user OMG SAME

yourusername glad to be here, can’t wait to travel the world with these amazing people 🧡

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tagged: mclaren

yourusername locked in and ready 😎

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oscarpiastri so glad you’ve gotten over your temporary obsession with blue 😁

↳ yourusername so glad you haven’t lost your ability to get on my last nerve 😁

↳ oscarpiastri so glad you’re still insufferable even on your best days 😁

↳ yourusername now that’s a comeback i can be proud of 🥹

user MISSED THESE LADS OH MY DAYS

user ONE DAY UNTIL TESTING GUYS

user oscar looking fine asf these days 😩 that winter break treated him well

mclaren The boys are back in town!

↳ yourusername dare i say my milkshake brought them to the yard?

↳ mclaren It certainly called us 😍

↳ yourusername you flatter me mclaren admin 😌

↳ mclaren Only the best for our best 😘

user that’s some pretty intense eye contact from lando in the last image…

↳ user he ain’t even looking at the camera

↳ user nah bruv is def looking at y/n 👀👀

↳ user I NEED THEM TO GET OVER WHATEVER HAPPENED AND GO BACK TO BEING FRIENDS CUZ I MISS THE BANTER IN THE COMMENTS

↳ user i think we should probably respect their privacy and understand that something happened (presumably in the off season) that we weren’t privy to. so long as they can both maintain professionalism around one another, they don’t have to do or “get over” anything. does it suck to see two very close friends no longer get along in the way they used to? absolutely. but we don’t know what happened or if anything even did happen. in the event that something did, we don’t know who’s involved or who, if anyone, is at fault. they’re both justified in choosing to end a friendship due to a falling out, or even if they just grew distant. but even as i say all of this, it’s still speculation.

↳ user we don’t actually know if they aren’t friends any longer or if they’ve just moved their friendship off of online platforms. it should be noted that y/n is very publicly dating someone, and idk about you, but i know firsthand how delusional fans can be. her bf’s fans could easily attack her over banter with another man, and lando’s fans could just as easily start reading into that same banter which runs the very real possibility of putting all three of them in an awkward situation where y/n is being shipped with a man that ISN’T her bf.

↳ user what about the banter she has with the mclaren admin? 🤔

↳ user context is super important here. the flirting between y/n and the mclaren admin is very obviously fake. it has been from the beginning, and when ppl “ship” the two of them together it’s for the bit and to play along with their fake bromance. lando and y/n have both been legitimately shipped together since they both started working with mclaren, which changes the undertone of the shipping comments bc ppl often genuinely misconstrue their banter as REAL flirting.

user why do comment sections related to y/n always turn into debate sessions

↳ user REAL like ain’t no way i’m reading all that

user oscar’s hair sticking up in every picture is my roman empire

user I’VE BEEN MISSING THE ORANGE I’M SO GLAD IT’S BACK 🧡🧡🧡

user wait i didn’t even realize until now that this is the first post in like a month that’s actually had public comments turned on

↳ user probably bc her bf’s loser fans have finally stopped harassing her

jackgrealish must be nice having all that sun 😒

↳ yourusername it really is, bet you’re jealous

Testing goes fine, until it doesn’t.

“A drain cover?” Lando’s voice echoes across the garage. “Another fucking drain cover?”

You purse your lips.

Yesterday, he’d been upset on Oscar’s behalf when they’d cancelled the remainder of the morning session after only a couple hours to solve the problem of the track’s dislodged pieces. He’d complained and cussed out the incompetence, and then reassured Oscar that things would be better for the third day.

But the third day is here now, and he’s even more upset now being told to pit after a measly thirty minutes for the same issue.

“This is the second fucking time━” he cuts himself off with an angry huff and runs his hands roughly through the curls of his hair, letting his fingers catch on the tangles and yanking through them in his frustration. Sweat glistens on his furrowed brow. His cheeks are still flushed from the heat of the car.

It’s the most emotion you’ve seen from him since you’ve come back.

The time you’ve already spent in Bahrain has been stilted at best. Lando continues to stick with his attempts at avoiding you, but it’s harder to do so here when your hotel rooms are on the same floor and you’re limited to the confines of the garage for most of the day. Even when he isn’t in the car, there’s not a lot to do wandering around the paddock and even if there was they’ve encouraged him to stay where he can easily be reached.

You’re trying not to be smug about it, but every time you glance over your shoulder and catch him watching you━ catch him quickly looking away when your eyes meet and he realizes he’s been caught━ you feel pleased.

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Lando, it’s that he’s always got a limit.

If you wait long enough, stand your ground and prove that you really have no intentions whatsoever of giving in and breaking the ice between the two of you, eventually he’ll cave. When he realizes he won’t get what he wants, that he’ll have to actually put in the effort to repair what he’s broken rather than having it magically fix itself, he’ll have no other choice but to do so.

“They might not cancel the session,” Oscar chimes in, attempting to placate his aggravated teammate. “Since they already had to yesterday, I doubt they’ll do it again today.”

Unfortunately, that doesn’t actually calm Lando down at all. If anything, it just reminds him again of the fact that this is the second time this same complication has happened which has him huffing angrily again and running his hands through his tangled curls even rougher.

You wince at that.

Andrea, McLaren’s team principal, steps forward. “Take a breath,” he orders, resting a heavy hand on Lando’s shoulder. “Go walk a lap around the garage or something, whatever, but I need you to calm down.”

You’re prepared for that to be the end of it, but then Andrea looks over and catches your eye. “Y/N,” he says, nodding his head towards Lando. “You go with him. Keep him out of trouble.”

Well.

You like to think you do a much better job at keeping your emotions off of your face than Lando, which isn’t hard when his features scrunch up into a pained scowl at Andrea’s words, but you can feel the pinch of your own eyebrows furrowing and the smile you send towards the team principal probably looks more like a grimace if Oscar pursed lips in your peripherals is anything to go by.

Lando storms out and you follow reluctantly after him.

He can’t really go very far, not if he wants to be within a reasonable distance when━ if━ they call him back to continue the morning testing session. So he paces back and forth and back and forth just outside the garage’s exit out into the paddock.

Your phone tells you that ten minutes pass like this. It’s the longest you’ve been alone with him in a while and his distraction lets you focus on the finer details that you’ve missed when he’s going out of his way to avoid you.

There are deep, dark, bruise-like circles that hang heavily beneath his eyes. His skin is sun-kissed and tanned from his time out catching rays during his travels, but there’s a pale pallor beneath the added color that makes him look sick. Despite his current anger and the tension coiled in his muscles just waiting to lash out and strike, his shoulders seem to droop beneath the invisible weight of whatever he’s carrying with him.

He looks small.

Lando’s always been on the shorter side, but he’s never before looked small. Not like this. Never like this.

The longer you watch, the more the back and forth pacing starts to transform into the anxious stride of a cornered animal.

You aren’t arrogant enough to assume he’s like this because of you entirely, but it does occur to you that maybe he’s having just as rough of a time as you are with the newfound distance between yourselves.

You watch him silently, for a little while longer, observing the way his stride hitches every few steps and he just barely manages to stop himself from stumbling over his own feet. He’s still running his hands through his hair. By the seventh time he practically claws his fingers through his curls you heave a sigh.

“Quit that,” you snap.

“Quit what?” He fires back with just as much bite.

You roll your eyes. “You’re gonna rip your hair out if you keep pulling on it like that.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he stops in his tracks and turns on his heel to face you with a sneer. His words drip with sarcasm. “I forgot you must be used to Grealish now, right? And I bet he’s got at least a ten-step hair care routine. I wonder, does he use unicorn sweat and essence of rainbow to keep it that smooth and bright? There’s no other possible way!”

“You’re being an asshole, Lando.”

“My sincerest apologies,” he says. “How could I ever think Grealish would use unicorn sweat of all things? He uses pixies tears, my mistake.”

You’re not sure how a few words managed to turn into this━ you’d just wanted him to stop pulling at his hair. It looked painful and he’s always been a bit tender headed. Now, instead, you can feel the anger bubbling up inside you and it seems like Lando’s frustrations about the testing delay, and your friendship with Jack apparently, have made things worse.

Like throwing gasoline onto a flame.

You scowl, “Seriously. You’re being a fucking prick.”

He throws his arms up into the air, “Why not just run off to Grealish then? Since he seems to be your new best friend and you tell him everything.”

If your life were a movie, this is the moment in time when the stars would align and fate would force everything to position itself perfect in place. Like the pieces of a puzzle, it would all work out and you’d calmly explain to Lando what happened back in January with Garrett and Manchester City, and he’d understand immediately and apologize, and you’d hug it out and then both return to the garage just in time for them to announce the testing session would re-commence.

But your life isn’t a movie, and reality feels significantly different to the scripted perfection of fiction.

The precarious security of the perch you’ve settled yourself upon comes crashing down, and the tentative balance you’ve managed to maintain since the start of February when you were back in papaya again shatters with it. Something inside you snaps. The dam has burst and everything held back comes rushing to the front like a torrential wave.

“At least he was there for me when some prick blackmailed me into a relationship at the threat of my livelihood,” you snarl.

Lando pauses for a moment. He makes a couple different faces before settling on a mix between pissed off and confused, and his arms cross over his chest. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I didn’t want to be in a relationship with Garrett Ward, Lando!” You exclaim. “He threatened that if I didn’t pretend to be his girlfriend, he’d fake some misconduct rumor and ruin my career and I was too afraid to say no because this is all I have!”

This isn’t how you’d wanted it all to go down. You’d always imagined you’d get the satisfaction of an apology, and that Lando would get drunk on cheap wine with you like old times, and you’d explain what all happened with the confidence of being a little tipsy and you wouldn’t feel ashamed because Lando’s your best friend and he’d reassure you that you did what you had to, and then you’d listen to him shit talk Garrett for the rest of the night. In the morning, he’d have some idea of how to fix it all without ruining your career, and then you’d be able to put it all behind you and go back to how things were before the winter off-season ever started.

This is far from that, but there’s a sense of relief that comes nonetheless from getting it all off your chest to Lando━ to the person you’ve wanted to talk to from the very beginning

You feel tears burning your eyes, blurring your vision. “I can barely pay my rent as is, and I’m only actually living there for a few dumb months out of the year anyway. Do you know how much worse it would be if I got kicked from McLaren too? Nobody else in the country would hire me if he followed through with what he was threatening.”

“Well,” Lando shrugs his shoulders, looking properly chastised. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I fucking tried, you muppet!” You throw your arms up in exasperation and then wipe at your eyes in frustration when the tears start to roll down your cheeks. “I called you every day for a week and you ignored me! I sent you text after text after fucking text━” your voice breaks, “━and you didn’t even read them! Did you know I locked myself in the bathroom and cried every single day I had to work there?”

You glare at him.

“The only thing that made it better was Jack fucking Grealish coming into my office and telling me I could at least go to him if I ever needed anything,” you snap. “So fuck off with this whole holier than thou bullshit. You left me, and Jack took your place because I was drowning!”

“Y/N…”

Crying hadn’t been a part of your plan, but the tears won’t stop now that they’re going. It’s embarrassing. You’re already worried about just how many people heard you shouting, and now you’re even more worried about someone coming back to look for you both and finding you sobbing your eyes out.

“I’m sorry━”

Lando’s arms wrap around you, warm and strong and sure.

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry @sideboobrry11 @d3kstar @mcmuppet @happylittlereader @casperlikej @5starl1ght @bellezaycafe @whentheautumnleavesfall @mess-is-my-aesthetic @ssprayberrythings @landosgirlxoxo @lifelessfan @81ja @wcnorris @a-disturbing-self-reflection (CLOSED).

━━ a/n: and there we have it folks. lando is finally back in the picture! this part was a lot of fun to write, because i've been waiting for this moment since the initial fallout in the beginning. on that note, i finished getting it all whipped up this morning while watching the qualis, so if there are any mistakes that i haven't caught that's why. i was a bit distracted, so please pretend they aren't there haha!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 #oscar piastri

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xamag-draws · 12 days

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BBR thoughts 2024

Since I mentioned that I finally dusted off an old project of mine and was ruminating on how I'd remake it, I thought I'd elaborate a little, now that I've solidified some concepts. For funsies

This is gonna be a bit of a long and unfocused one, but I don't share my personal thoughts here often, especially the stuff about my projects I always marinate in. And for once it's something that people have existing context for, so hey why not

So for anyone who hasn't been following me for a gajillion years, The Black Brick Road of OZ was a webcomic that I posted around 2013-2015, back when I was in highschool going on college (which is kinda crazy to think about). It was sort of a darker twist on The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, although I definitely leaned a lot more into dark humor more than anything in those first few chapters

I don't think it's available to read anywhere anymore, and I know people have been asking me about it. So here's the full proper archive of BBR, as full as it can be with deceased Flash

I totally used it as an excuse to shamelessly and self-indulgently experiment. It had interactive pages and GIFs and was wayyy too overproduced for what I could handle or what was necessary, but I did have great fun making it while it lasted

Unfortunately, that excess and the fact that I've changed too much as a person by the time I was in college is what ultimately killed it. The direction I wanted to go in was practically unrecognizable from the original idea started back in 2011, so there were many old hold-ups that I felt ruined it

At the time I kinda wished I could start/rewrite it all over, but considering that I pretty much had the entire script done at that point, it felt like a pointless sisyphean task. So I just put it on a shelf and didn't look back for about 8 years, because I didn't know what else to do

Now to be fair, the nature of my art has always been iterative and cyclical; when I feel like my creative juices have run dry I prefer to leave a project to marinate and move on to something else; cycle through other old things and bring in new skills and perspectives into the mix when I'm ready again. Not very productive, but it is what makes me happy to work on my OCs; I'm doomed to hit a wall with them eventually and I need some time to be able to find a new direction

So that said, I'm glad that BBR was left to marinate for that long. I don't think I was prepared, emotionally or intellectually, to tackle it again until now. The Wizard of Oz book (and the entire series of them, really) has always been near and dear to my heart, but there's a lot of context around it that I'm only unpacking now that I'm older

I think I always inherently feel negatively about the stuff I've made in the past, like its faults always jump out to me more than the positives, especially the more time passes. I've never liked that, and I do really appreciate the kind things people have to say about BBR to this day. The fact that it still can be recognized and remembered is very sweet

When I left it, I already found it "kinda cringe", and that feeling only deepened with years. When I took my first look back at it, asking the question "how would I rewrite it now?", at first I took a very cynical approach, as in "everything would have to be torn down"

But the more I sat on it, the more I found that I still see some merit and charm in the ideas I was putting out; I just didn't know how to execute them at the time (not to pretend that I know what I'm doing now, but I certainly know more at least). Turns out a lot of my old concepts could be changed substantially with just a few small tweaks. So I'd say that's a nicer way to think about my previous work

If you haven't seen yet, I posted a first draft of my new designs for some of the characters (the main group, the Goods and the Wickeds). Definitely subject to change, but more or less how I see them now

I'm just playing with these concepts; by no means would I attempt to remake BBR right this moment. Call it a pipe dream among my other ones. But just for fun, this is the direction I'd like to take:

Nowadays I'd probably make it a visual novel, with more emphasis on the visual part than the novel because I'm no English prose writer by any means. It'd still let me play a little with the interactivity while helping cut some corners on the drawing part (only some, I imagine I'd go hog wild anyway)

I've always intended for some events inspired by the sequel books to take place in BBR's past. Stuff like Jinjur's revolt or Ozma's rule preceeds the main events here. So I think it would be fun to follow the past of a few key characters alongside the main story. One chapter focusing on the present quest to see the Wizard, then one focusing on the past events (that are maybe reflective thematically); rinse and repeat

I'm also sticking a little closer to the original text in some regards. Not everything that I enjoy from the books would be translated here, it's still just a very loose fantasy on the material; but I'd like to be closer in spirit at least

I like mature, wise and powerful Glinda, I like kind and vulnerable Tin Man, I like the Wizard being a pathetic yet loveable liar, so I'm sprinkling in more of that for example

I'd like to keep some whimsy, but make it more grounded and a bit more serious to be coherent in tone. I think the original TWWOOZ book was a more realistic fantasy in some ways, even for the standards of the time; I like its simple but vivid tactile descriptions and details like bringing attention that Dorothy needed to eat and sleep

I find it funny that Baum specifically was averse to making his books scary or unpleasant, finding that unnecessary for telling a compelling kids story, but they still can get pretty dark and disturbing, at least for our modern sensibilities. Let's just say that I intend to use the Evoldo and Chopfyt storylines for my purposes. In that way, I feel like a "darker" Wizard of Oz retelling can still mostly be tonally in line with the original and balance it with enough heart and occasional humor

I slowly grew to appreciate the quaint old-timey quality of the original series, as well. The first book is both timeless and very much a product of the 1900s. Originally I tried to give it a little modern or at least anachronistic spin, but it was moreso because it's what I knew best, so these days I'd rather intentionally lean into the time period. Still not fully historically accurate by any means, but at least directly acknowledging the influence

The events of the story span across 40 years of these characters' lives, so I'm drawing inspiration from the entire so-called La Belle Epoque: the time period around 1880s-1920s. Basically I'm cooking, and my soup is old Victorian fashion morphing into Edwardian fashion and slowly inching towards flappers

Some new Dolly outfits

Lots of crazy things, political changes and innovations were happening at the turn of the century, which I think is noted and reflected by Baum in the books as well; the character of Tik-Tok might not blow any minds now, but he was one of the first robot characters in literature at that point; and don't even get me started on Jinjur, etc. Plenty of really interesting stuff one could lightly ponder in an Oz adaptation these days

Aesthetically, art nouveau has always been a big artistic influence for me, and it'd definitely be its time to shine here. John R. Neill's illustrations of the Oz books often keep me company as well. Nouveau architecture in particular fits that fairytale whimsy extremely well imo

I'd allow myself a little bit of art deco here and there, but ultimately its intimidating geometrical splendor is an antithetical to the flowery nature of nouveau and I associate it with a completely different era. Definitely fitting some characters like my Wicked Witch of the West, but shouldn't be overused

One of my main problems with the original BBR was that eventually I lost track of what it was even about; and the original ending felt too mean and unfulfilling to be worth it. Now I'd like to stick to the theme of home and family as my main theme, but in a different, more bittersweet way than in the book

An interesting connection I made is that a lot of my aforementioned older key characters (the Witches, Jinjur, the Nome King, etc) all came from the same reformatory as kids, that's how they know each other. In my recent research I learned that in those reformatories it was usually frowned upon to release the children back to the families, which were seen as the original corrupting influence regardless of the circumstance. The reformatory did everything in its power to cut that connection and make itself the only family those wayward kids were supposed to know and love. That's an unexpected tie into the theme of home that I'd like to explore as well

So yeah that's the current state of it. I have a bunch of outfit concepts I'm slowly cooking, although I'm now sure whether I'd post them... But I do miss these funny guys, and I'm glad some people still do as well :)

#my art #xam rambles #the black brick road of oz #long post #ohsees tag

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reiniesainyo · 2 months

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IN BETWEEN. charlie bushnell x reader – 02

02 | WELCOME TO NY previous | next | masterfile

SYNPOSIS. when a girl's co-star is good to her and now she wants it more than everything in between. (smau)

A/N. wow actual content who knew! i give some tidbits about rina and lukes dynamic as well for funsies (takes place at the start of the season premiere to probably episode 4-5 ish)

liked by iamcharliebushnell, walker.scobell, and 322,778 others thelnarchive best people to star in my first show with actually

walker.scobell pov: you at the end of this sentence 🤓👆 ↳ thelnarchive that** ↳ leahsavajeffries destroyed him with one word that's insane

user1 she's so gorgeous it's killing me

user2 her photo dumps are so cute it's so RAHHHHH ↳ user3 thank you yn for keeping us fed

iamcharliebushnell no photo creds? thats crazy...... ↳ thelnarchive 📸: charlie bushnell ↳ iamcharliebushnell thank you 😁

user4 she's so pretty, i would go to hell and back for her. she could be sent to the underworld and i would go and traverse the entire underworld for her and bring her back, have hades let me walk out with her only if i don't turn my back and bet you baby i'm no orpheus because you're coming home ↳ user5 this is so real but also what the fuck

dior.n.goodjohn PRETTIEST IN CAMP HALFBLOOD ↳ thelnarchive NO YOU!

iamcharliebushnell for everyone's information, she yapped for like the 2 hour makeup and hair session ↳ thelnarchive you weren't interested in the cultural impact of feminist retellings of mythology? 😔 ↳ iamcharliebushnell i didn't say i didn't listen to every bit

user6 yn ln being a yapper and charlie being a listener was not in my 2024 bingo card but it is pleasantly accepted ↳ user7 the chemistry is kind of crazy

bellie 💋 @G1LLMOREGRLS theres like less than 3 minutes of luke and rina screen time but the way they look at each other is insane. ik luke visiting rina before leaving was implied and like them him contacting her even after the attempt too i still want to see some because the potential angst is so insane 🗨 19 comments 🔁 129 retweets ❤️ 707 likes

user1 "i lost luke three times in my life." if they remove this it better be for something even more heartbreaking

user2 honestly truth i'm manifesting so hard to see some of their iris messages like i can just imagine it ↳ G1LLMOREGRLS oh my fucking god that's so true, i want to see luke begging her to come with him and then her begging him to change his mind

user3 i want the new seasons to come sooner because i trust in rick's capability to give us what we want 💳💳💳 ↳ user4 i trust in the editor's to make what rick gives us even better brah ↳ user5 what if i said lascotellan to a hozier song

user6 the show ate with levitating as the replacement for poker face in e6 so i'm expecting a tragic song for their scenes too ↳ G1LLMOREGRLS dare i say we get a scene of luke regretting his actions juxtaposed with a scene of him and rina arguing with her telling him to silver springs by fleetwood mac ↳ user6 LUKE AND RINA ARGUING OVER HIS ACTIONS TO SILVER SPRINGS. YOU'RE A FUCKING GENIUS OOMF ↳ G1LLMOREGRLS luke thinking about her constantly when he thinks abt why he shouldn't have done it is so "you'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you"????

user7 YOU'RE SO CORRECT FOR THIS ‼️‼️ i'm so insane over them, tragic greek couple of the century

user8 i fear no one will ever beat rina saying she wanted to go to the underworld to get him back but deciding not to and letting him repent in elysium or try for reincarnation

liked by thelnarchives, dior.n.goodjohn, and 350,232 others iamcharliebushnell hanging out with the muse

thelnarchives you call me "the muse" so often i'm starting to think you don't know my first name anymore.... 🤨🤨🤨 ↳ iamcharliebushnell 😔 i would never do that to you muse ↳ thelnarchives i'm gonna start calling you traitor. ↳ user1 wat why would she call him traitor ↳ user2 oh you sweet summer child

user3 picture 3 is so cute i love her so much !!! and charlie's there too i guess

dior.n.goodjohn why are you hanging out with MY girlfriend ↳ iamcharliebushnell you snooze you lose :/

walker.scobell you owe me like 2 meals from our past bets and you keep saying your busy but obviously you're not??? ↳ iamcharliebushnell hanging out with the muse is a trip priority, man 🤷

user4 i'm obsessed with how charlie calls her muse they're so i want to Bite them. ↳ user5 he ate with the pet name

user6 that's actually me in the second photo guys

user7 WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT HER HAND PLACEMENT IN THE THIRD PHOTO??? ↳ user8 girlie's just scratching her own cat

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freyito · 4 months

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"ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴘɪʟʟᴏᴡꜱ" || ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ & ᴋᴇɴꜱʜɪ ᴛᴀᴋᴀʜᴀꜱʜɪ

✧ a/n: can't believe my first piece of 2024 is a part 2 to this booby fic... but goddamn i need my head in kenshis boobies rn. it'd make everything better...

🗒 cw: gn reader cause everyone can have boobs, bonus points!, not proofread

✎ wc: 750

⎯ Johnny Cage

Good GOD does Johnny love burying his face in your chest any time he can. He mainly does it when he's had a bad day. It's a great way to destress, he says. He promises there's nothing more to it. And he's right.

Sure, Johnny can be provocative and that charm doesn't exactly disappear. But seriously, this is like way too comforting for him. The stress of directing, making something worth it, it all dissolves when he's face first in your chest.

And he talks. He talks and talks. Will not stop yapping. His entire day, whatever he's done, something about movies. Every word muffled because he refuses to leave, or even lift his head off your chest.

So, when you return home after a particularly bad day, you decided to try Johnny's method of destressing. Johnny's on the couch, watching The Princess Bride for like the 27th time. It's the perfect time to strike. And strike you do.

Before he can properly welcome you home, your face is pressed between his tits within seconds. Sweet, sweet heaven. You understand now. You understand everything. Your stress dissipates, tensions of the day gone, immediately.

You can barley hear Johnny giggling and joking, you're too caught up in a euphoric daze. You only lift your head when it feels like you can't breathe. Johnny stares down at you with the biggest knowing grin ever. He's not gonna make fun of you, even with that hint of mischief in his eyes.

⎯ Kenshi Takahashi

Kenshi is disciplined, he likes to think. So he doesn't he really even think about burying his face in your chest. On top of that, he's pretty busy. The OIA, the Taira, the Yakuza... it's a lot. You don't seem him at home much.

However, in those rare moments he gets with you, some time's he'll lay his head on your stomach or your thighs. He enjoys the kind of connection, some sort of contact after a hard day of work. It grounds him.

But oh, come on. We've seen how big this guy is. Massive tits. C'mon. It takes you a while to build up the courage to go for it. But when he's wearing tank tops, compression shirts, etc... it's so hard to restrain yourself.

Kenshi KNOWS. Sometimes he does it on purpose. But when you start stalking him, keeping your distance, plotting... he wonders what's gotten into you. He makes it a game, kind of. But you're winning. As hard as he's trying to keep up with you.

You find the perfect time to execute your plan. You two are cuddled up late into the night, savoring the rare moment of touch. Without warning, you seize your chance. You roll over onto his chest, head first into those big naturals. Silence cascades over the both of you. Oh, it's even better than you imagined it. Soft... warm... inviting... it's a shame he keeps them hidden. Kenshi doesn't know how to react. Eventually, after several minutes of agonizing silence (and pure bliss between this guys pillows), he finally wraps his arms around you and even pulls you a bit closer.

⎯ Hanzo Hasashi

Hanzo also considers himself controlled. He's above acts like that. Or so he thinks. He won't outright plank into your chest, but when there's downtime, he quite enjoys laying on your chest, with your arms around him. Reading a book or something. That's just the way he likes to wind down.

We've all seen the side-boobage on this man though. Untapped market right there. It'd be a shame NOT to put your head between those pecs. Like, it'd be a sin not to.

One night, during some much needed time alone, you find yourself wrapped up in Hanzo's arms. It's a quiet night, he's finding it hard to fight off sleep. He's been busy, and it's been a hell of a week for him.

His defenses are down, so you take up the opportunity. Awkwardly, you wiggle in his arms, flipping from your back to your face. What awaits you is reminiscent of the gates of heaven. God, you could live like this.

Hanzo's mind is fried, so he doesn't quite understand. To him, you feel more like a weighted blanket. Which ends up making it even harder to stay awake. He's trying to savor every moment with you, but sleep is quickly catching up with him. Waking up to you still resting your head on his pecs however... part of him is glad he was too tired to understand.

#⁺◟freyito #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 11 x reader #johnny cage x reader #kenshi takahashi x reader #hanzo hasashi x reader #mk x reader #mk1 x reader #mk11 x reader

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valyrfia · 1 month

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*insert michael jackson gif*

Let it go with the excuses already, today was on him he couldn't even beat his teammate today how you people expect him to fight max?he will put it in the wall in the last lap, oh wait it already happened, my bad

also max recommended devries lol let's not take those guys words , charles is currently fighting fraud allegations, unless his 2019 or 2022 start is coming it's only going downhill

Okay, fine, I'll bite. Let's compare Charles's and Carlos's perfomances in order to try and determine with as little bias as possible.

In order to constrain our parameters of our investigation to their current abilities as drivers, let's take the our period of investigation to be the whole of the 2023 season, plus the first three races of the 2024 season. We'll exclude the following races for Carlos due to circumstances beyond his control: Qatar 2023 (fuel leak leading to DNS), Las Vegas 2023 (10 place grid penalty due to track not being properly maintained), Jeddah 2024 (appendicitis). Likewise, we'll exclude the following races for Charles due to circumstances beyond his control: Bahrain 2023 (DNF due to technical issues), Jeddah 2023 (10 place grid penalty due to exceeding allowed quota), COTA 2023 (DSQ), Brazil (DNS due to faulty hydraulics).

There are cases to be made for other races for both of them, but these are races where they were either involved in a collision leading to a DNF or where grid penalties apply, so there's argument for driver error there. With regard to grid penalties, we're going to go by the final decisions made by the stewards regardless of whether the penalties were appealed or not. Races where they suffered technical issues in race but they still finished are not counted, as it shows a driver's ability to handle an unpredictable car.

Before we discount the races listed above entirely, let's have a look at where the driver who didn't have difficulties finished.

So we're discarding pretty much the same number of points between them, so I feel happy discarding the following 7 races entirely from this analysis: Bahrain 2023, Jeddah 2023, Qatar 2023, COTA 2023, Brazil 2023, Las Vegas 2024, Jeddah 2024. Furthermore, in Las Vegas, Carlos finished 6th and in Jeddah, Charles finished 7th. This brings their points total across the discarded races to 46 for Carlos, 45 for Charles. However, Charles managed to score those points over fewer points-scoring races, and with a higher average finishing position, so for the sake of not convoluting ourselves we'll call it even and commit to just examining the points and stats of the remaining races not excluded from our investigation. The table below shows those stats. For simplification, sprints are not considered.

So I think there are a few key things we want to consider: overall performance, reasons for retirements and driver reliability over our chosen time period. So we'll go one by one for each and examine in a little more depth.

For overall performance, it's easiest to see in a quick head to head. Carlos wins in race wins, Charles wins in poles, they tie in number of retirements (although Carlos was classified in ABU23 due to finishing 90% of the race distance), Charles wins in higher average finishing position, Charles wins in higher points total.

Next, we move on to reasons for retirement. Charles retired twice, once upon collision with Lance in Australia 23, and once in Zandvoort due to a damaged floor. Carlos retired once in Belgium 23 due to a collision with Oscar Piastri and once in Abu Dhabi 23 due to being lapped and running last without pitting.

For driver reliability, I want to consider the variance in Charles and Carlos's race finishes for reliability. A quick recap for the non-STEM people who may be reading this: the variance measures the spread of numbers in a dataset, and how far away they are from the dataset's mean. Thus, a smaller variance indicates less spread in positions that a driver has finished in, in turn indicating higher reliability. Charles has a variance of 6.46, Carlos has a variance of 8.25. It is therefore possible to conclude that Charles is the more reliable driver of the two. While on the subject of reliability, it is also worth noting that Charles has not dropped outside the top 5 since Monza last year.

So overall, anon, I'm afraid I have to reject your notion that Charles is washed or even approaching becoming washed. The data show otherwise. The only category where Carlos is superior to Charles in our time frame is race wins, race wins where Charles deliberately adhered to Ferrari strategy in order to help Carlos, and Max Verstappen was out of commission for the win for one reason or another. Carlos wins in luck, but for driver reliability, points scored, finishing position, Charles is the clear winner and the numbers show it.

#f1 essays #charles leclerc #f1 analysis #formula 1 #australian gp 2024 #asks #anon

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olderthannetfic · 28 days

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I thought it would be interesting to see if I could easily determine which ships had the most works updated in 2023.

It turned out to be fairly easy, though a little time consuming. I think these results should be reasonably accurate.

Some points to note:

I did this on my own account, and I have like 2 people muted. So I am capturing the effects of archive-locked works, but my numbers might be off by one or two works due to muting.

Works updated in 2023 is a number that constantly changes as works are deleted or updated again in 2024.

I didn't scrape the entire archive or anything like that, so it's possible I missed a ship that would bump one of these down below 100. I'd take the last few at the bottom there with a grain of salt. But I think we can be reasonably sure the top ones are accurate and that the kinds of numbers that we see at the bottom there (eighteen hundred plus works updated in 2023) are about where the cutoff will be even if we find a ship I missed.

As for how I did this, I went to the category tags and the rating tags, filtered for updating in 2023, then excluded ships in the sidebar till I got to 130-150 ships excluded. I also grabbed ships that are big in general from tag search, which you can use to find all relationship canonicals, ordered by frequency.

I combined those lists of ships, cleaned off the works numbers, and generated a list without duplicates. That got me three hundred and something (yes, they were mostly duplicates). I generated the relevant AO3 URLs, opened them in batches with Open Multiple URLs, and copied the works totals into a spreadsheet. Not as tidy as using a script but honestly pretty easy if you know a few spreadsheet formulas to clean up data.

The key here is that if you're only going for pretty good and not accurate beyond a shadow of a doubt, all you need to do is generate a list of likely ships, then check them.

It's possible that there's some much-updated ship that is so evenly spread across these various other tags that it just missed showing up in the sidebar. Hopefully, grabbing more than just the top 100 avoided this problem.

This method also doesn't take into account backdated works. If a whole archive was imported in 2023 but all backdated, there could be some ship that didn't have new works but where AO3 users experience in 2023 was of an influx of content.

I also did this just now, in late March/early April, so some 2023 works have inevitably been deleted or updated again. So the exact work counts don't represent the experience of using AO3 throughout 2023. A fandom active in early 2023 might not have much updating in early 2024, while a fandom active in late 2023 would. This could demote the latter a few places in the rankings since I didn't grab numbers on January 1st.

Even if a person scraped AO3 every day or was monkeying around in the databases, you also have to ask what conceptual answer you're after. Is it works a user could have read at some point during 2023, whether they were deleted by the year's end or not? Is it new-to-AO3 works or only newly-created ones, not including imported archives? Does it matter if the works are fic? If they're in English? What about accidental double-uploads or translations of a single work?

I hope this makes it clear why a definitive ranking is not actually possible.

However, despite these drawbacks, I am confident that the rankings above accurately represent the broad trends on AO3 in 2023. Just don't get too fixated on whether a ship should be at number 73 or number 74.

And, of course, I excluded these from the top 100:

Original Character(s)/Original Character(s) - 20,026

Minor or Background Relationship(s) - 16,187

No Romantic Relationship(s) - 8,052

Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s) - 7,195

Original Male Character/Original Male Character - 6,283

Other Relationship Tags to Be Added - 5,618

Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s) - 3,990

Original Character(s) & Original Character(s) - 3,210

Here's a spreadsheet if you want to see the actual numbers not as a shitty screencap. I left the next few below 100 for context.

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auras-moonstone · 4 months

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i want your midnights — ethan landry

word count: 586

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: the group spends new year’s eve together and ethan asks y/n to be his midnight kiss.

warnings: none!

author’s note: happy new years! 🫶🏻 hope you have an amazing 2024, and thank you for all the love on this blog i decided to open last year and that was definitely one of the highlights of 2023🥺🖤

ETHAN AND CHAD WERE STANDING IN ONE CORNER OF THEIR APARTMENT AS THE GIRLS WERE DOING KARAOKE. Taking advantage of the distraction, Chad had dragged Ethan away to encourage him to make a move on Y/N.

“Chad, I really can’t do it.” Ethan said, anxiousness reflected in his brown eyes.

Chad shoved him softly “Yes, you can. Man, you’re a snack. An entire meal all on your own. I can assure you, she’s not going to reject you.”

“You think so?” he asked with hope, his gaze settled on Y/N, who was laughing as she sang Picture to Burn by Taylor Swift with Quinn. He couldn’t stop the smile that formed in his face as he watched her enjoy herself without a care in the world. She was magnetic.

“I know so, man. She’s very into your puppy brown eyes and nerdy polo shirts. And your muscles, which you have to thank me for.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Thank you for forcing me to go to the gym and torturing me with your restless routines.” he said sarcastically.

“You’re very welcome. Now, let’s join the girls.”

“Eth! Come sing with me!” Y/N pleaded, extending her hand.

If it were any other person, he would’ve told them to fuck off and scowled at them. But Y/N’s smile was his greatest weakness, and the one she was giving him was so wide and bright that there was not a chance he could say no. And in between laughter and stolen glances, they sang Don’t look back in anger by Oasis together.

The group was having so much fun that before they knew it, there were ten seconds left until midnight. The group found their respective partner—Mindy and Anika, Tara and Chad, Sam and Danny and Quinn and her current toy boy—, and the only two people who didn’t have anyone to share the new year’s kiss with stood awkwardly on the sidelines.

ten

“This is gonna be very awkward for us, isn’t it?” Ethan asked Y/N.

nine

“Yup, we’re pretty pathetic.” she shifted on her feet.

eight

“Are we just going to stand here watching them make out?” Ethan turned to his side, arm resting against the wall.

seven

“We can just go to the kitchen and wait there for a couple of seconds.” she suggested.

six

Ethan took a deep breath “I have another idea.”

five

Y/N looked up at him and, for some reason, blood rushed into her cheeks. Maybe it was the closeness, or maybe it was the way his pine scent cologne hit her senses, or maybe it was just the crazy idea that had been running through her mind since the moment the group suggested they should spend new year’s eve together—Ethan being her midnight kiss.

four

“What do you have in mind?” she asked breathlessly.

three

“You.” he said, cupping her cheek. “You’re always on my mind, and right now I’m thinking about me being your first kiss of 2024. Hopefully, the first and only.”

two

Wide-eyed, she took a step closer and tilted her head towards him. “That sounds perfect. I like how you think.”

one

Fireworks shone in the sky as their lips met. The kiss only lasted for a few seconds, and left them completely love dunk and in need for more. But they knew they had all the time in the world, they were well aware it wasn’t just a one time thing.

“Happy New Years, Y/N.” Ethan smiled against her lips.

She smiled back. “Happy New Years, Eth.”

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absolutebl · 1 month

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This Week in BL - Japan is Winning on Kisses & Other Alternate Realities

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

March 2024 Wk 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Two Worlds (Thurs IQIYI) ep 3 of 10 - It would be great if we got the alternative romance with dead Kram from Tai’s perspective (JBL style.) Still I like this show. It’s a little bit like I Feel You Linger in the Air only with a love triangle. And while I'm not a fan of triangles as a general rule, I don’t mind it here because the set up is clever. Wayu and ao are fun sides too. It sure is moving very quickly, which I like. I’m not entirely sure what’s going on. But that’s normal for me with this kind of Thai drama.

Deep Night (Thurs iQiyi) ep 4 of 8 - They are extremely sappy boyfriends. I love that mom has a secret gf. Could we please have more of them? The love triangle sides are ridiculous, but I do like that it’s all out in the open. I also like they are actually addressing the complicated parental dynamics of owning a sex club. Honestly, I think Khem should have to be a host too. Learn him the right way, girl!

City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) ep 9 of 12 - It’s good, I like the fallout and them actually having to deal with crazy fans and past relationships. They’re so good at communicating it’s kind of a pleasure to watch them suffer through external pressures, because I have faith that they can make it through.

To Be Continued (Thai C3 Thailand grey) ep 6 of 8 - They are such cute puppy dads and so clearly meant to be together, the fact that they aren’t is just frustrating. The fight thing was stupid. And not a whole lot happened... plus singing. I’m getting fatigued with this one.

1000 Years Old ep 7 of 12 - Did I miss something happening, or did nothing happen?

Kiseki Chapter 2 (Sun iQIYI) ep 2 of 6 - It’s so boring, there’s so much guitar playing, and it got weirdly voyeuristic (in a very much not sexy way). I’m totally out. DNF

Close Friend Season 3: Soju Bomb! (Weds iQIYI) ep 3 of 6 - I can’t tell if this is trying to be a BL Romancing the Stone, or a BL Hangover, or both. The problem with situational comedy is it must be both situational and comedic, not just option one. The problem with calling something BL, is that it must be BL. This show got 1 of 3 claims correct. 33% is not a passing grade. DNF

Honestly, it's the HANDS with these two. They do beautiful beautiful things with their hands. If you're one of those hands-obsessed BLabies you should be watching LIBTSTA!

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Unknown (Taiwan Tues Youku YouTube & Viki) ep 6 of 11 - So the worst finally happened. The mountain of pain has fallen down upon us. And now, hopefully in the second half things get better for our boys. But what a rough ride. Normally, this is not my style of BL, but everyone is doing such a gorgeous job with it, I can’t fault it… except that it hurts. The red thread symbolism was elegantly done. I’d like to hope we get a reunion in the next one, but knowing this style of series they’re gonna draw it out. There's gonna be a more pain first.

Love is Better the Second Time Around AKA Koi wo Suru nara Nidome ga Joto (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 4 of 6 - Those fuck me puppy dog eyes were perfectly executed. I would not have been able to resist either. Gosh they are so damn cute. This is a great show.

Jazz for Two (Korea Gaga/grey) eps 1-2 of 8 - This comes from the Shoulder to Cry On team so I'm scared, but this one is all actors* not idols so maybe they'll be braver. Boy howdy does it have a fantastic opening sequence. Also the lead is fucking adorable. Mr Broody McBroodypants is cute too. Korea sure loves “pretty but broken.” On the JBL end of the spectrum, is everyone in love with their siblings? That’s weird. The dining room scene was painful. All in all, it's good, I'm intrigued. Let's see how you go little show.

I stand absolutely corrected the lead is a member of NEWKIDD (in my defense I'd never heard of them until Build Up last month). I did recognize him from To My Star because at the time I thought he was too pretty to be only a side character.

AntiReset (Taiwan Fri Viki/Gaga) ep 10 fin - Again there was overuse of previous footage and maudlin navel-gazing grief over something we knew was going to happen. So I didn’t really feel much emotional connection to the drama. 7 year time gap.? t was a cute reunion but the moral quandary never really got resolved. I don’t know how to rate this, I’m not sure I will ever watch it again, so that is a big mark against it.

There’s nothing objectively wrong with this BL except how upsetting it is because of the foundational pygmalion story - grown man falls in love with an android who is basically both his slave and, by maturity level, a child. Yet that premise is crystal clear from the get go, so we watch it eyes open. The actors are cute, the romance sweet, the physical chemistry on point (of course, it’s Taiwan) and yet I was left ultimately unsettled by the concept, content, and plot. 7/10

My Strawberry Film (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 7 of 8 - I'm so ready for this to be over, and for Gaga to have something good on. Soon please?

It's done, ready to binge, but I suck

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps

It's airing but...

Graduation Countdown (Taiwan YouTube) - It's too much to ask me to keep up with 2 minute verticals, I don't have that kind of TikTok endurance training. Waiting to binge.

A Secretly Love (Thai Sat WeTV grey) 10 eps - I watched the first ep but grey is too much work for this inferior of a show. I may pick up and binge if it gets distribution but for now, it gets a DNF from me. KimCop might have held this crap together but Kim without Cop? No thank you.

Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing.

Tangential to the genre

There has been the occasional discussion on this topic here in this little corner of tumblr so I thought there might be a few intersted in this podcast: AmericanThaiGuy Ron Weaver on the Complicated Issue of Racism in Thailand (The Bangkok Podcast)

Thailand passed its Marriage Equality bill through the lower house. It's expected to pass the high house and get signed by the King, but that hasn't quite happened yet.

And MaxTul dropped a photo shoot.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Starting Soon

3/31 Only Boo! (Thai GMMTV YouTube) 12 eps - New main couple for GMMTV in an idol romance about a boy who dances good and a food stand vendor. Other side of the tracks grumpy/sunshine pair who fall deeply in love but, of course, baby boy idol can't date. Boyband but from GMMTV? Control your singing and I'm game.

3/31 The Next Prince (Thai ????) 12 eps - trailer. ZeeNew in a fantasy/historical set in a palace where Zee plays a knight and Nu a prince - YES PLEASE. (Apparently this is just the pilot, not the start of the actual show, see comments.)

4/1 Love is like a Cat (Korea ????) 12 eps - This completed filming Aug 2022(!) which means there have been serious problems with post-production. This is another of Silkwood's Korean+Thai colab projects. Mew Suppasit plays a rookie film star, called the Cat Prince (for his cold arrogance) who goes up against a charismatic puppyish animal daycare director (JM of JUST B). There is a side romance (love triangle?) with a veterinarian. Geonu of JUST B is also in the cast. Dual languages.

Hum, trash-watch-a-licious?

4/3 We Are (Thai GMMTV YouTube iQIYI) 12 eps - University ensemble BL featuring PondPhuwin, WinnySatang, AouBoom, MarcPawinPoon - basically the good kind of messy gay friendship group (so more My Engineer and less Only Friends). Looks a bit like the Kiss series but everyone is queer. I'm IN!

4/11 Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan ????) 10 eps - Kindly Ryota goes off to uni only to find his new roommate is his childhood bestie, Kazuhito. Kazuhito doesn’t have a girlfriend and Ryota tries to help him figure out why, they fall in love along the way. Same director as Old Fashion Cupcake.

4/11 Gray Shelter AKA Gray Currents (Korea ????) 4 eps - SooHyuk is only just surviving and reunites with YoonDae, an old friend. They end up living together. One of the leads is played by Choco of Choco Milk Shake.

4/18 At 25:00, in Alaska AKA 25 Ji, Akasaka de (Japan Gaga - may not be global) 10 eps - Yuki lands his first starring role in a BL drama alongside superstar Asami (previously his senior at uni). Said superstar suggests they form a sham relationship until filming concludes. As they actually begin to fall in love, the spotlight begins to burn.

Seriously? You're killing me with these titles, boys.

4/26 My Stand-In (Thai iQIYI) 12 eps - adaptation of Chinese novel "Professional Body Double" by Shui Qiang Cheng. Stars Up (Lovely Writer) and Poom (Bake Me Please) directed by the same team as KP (not a recommendation IMHO - my biggest criticism of that show was the clashing directing styles). This one looks well complicated, lemme try: Joe is a stuntman for famous actor Tong. Joe falls in love with Ming but Ming sees Joe as nothing more than a Tong-replacement. After learning this horrible truth, Joe dies. Joe then wakes up in the body of another man also named Joe. He manages to rebuild the same life as before—with the same people eventually re-meeting Ming. Ming wants Joe back but Joe doesn't understand why. But Ming seems to know what's going on and wants to give him some kind of explanation.

I'm exhausted just trying to describe the plot.

Knock-Knock Boys (Thai WeTV) - 4 college friends conspire to help their friend lose his virginity. Familiar faces like Seng (yes, Billy's previous partner) and Best, news here.

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

NOTE: It looks like one of my personal favorites of last year Unintentional Love Story is getting a spin off!

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT

Just these two, in my head, rent free. Thanks Japan!

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are too much work.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @rocketturtle4

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy. (With so many tags when does a weekly tumblr post become a newsletter? That is this week's philosophical question...)

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thissying · 4 months

Note

Any max lore you wish fic writers knew about?

Hi! This turned out to be so much more and yet so much less than you probably wanted to know! If anyone feels like adding on or if you have specific questions, go ahead.

I'm not sure why you chose me for this but let me (finally) give it a go. I have to say though, that it's been ages since I've read fic (time issues and I've had my own one on my mind and I've deluded myself into thinking I will actually write it and I can't read fic because then I will lose the tiny bit of confidence and incentive I may have) so I'm not sure I know Max lore that is commonly missing from fic or that writers don't know about and should. So I'll just throw some things out there.

There are simple facts - favourite food, favourite music etc. - that can be found in most interviews (this one is 3 years old but covers that quite a bit). There's more in-depth Max lore in Whatever It Takes and Anatomy of a Champion (I don't know if you can find that subtitled anywhere though).

This is not so much lore but for young/early Max characterisation, I think if you're Dutch and you've managed to catch his early Peptalk interviews, it's obvious he's been outspoken but also has had a great sense of humour since very early on.

I don't know if it's interesting for writers but because sometimes people write Max as if he'd been a friendless loner until he met Daniel (or still is except for Daniel): he's been best friends with Stan Pex his entire life, the boy who he saw driving a kart when he was 4 years old which made him go: I want that, too. And then Jos and Stan's dad started working together and had 3 Pex kids and Max in their kart team. One of them, Jorrit, is now married to Max's aunt (Sophie's sister).

The one I found pretty shocking for a kid was that he was 11 years old when he saw a 19 year old fellow karter (Thomas Knopper) have an accident and pass away on the track.

On a brighter note. In the 'oh really, Max?' category. In the end of August 2017 episode of Peptalk, he was asked about hanging out with other drivers and Daniel in particular and he said that no, they don't hang out. He prefers hanging out with his oldest best friends. He sees him enough at the track already, you know? And then there's this picture from a few weeks before.

Max and Martin Garrix lore. In 2014 Max won the Young Talent Award that was supposed to be presented to him by Martijn but Max was in a taxi in England at the time and the live-feed kept disconnecting. They were in touch a bit after that and then they spontaneously ran into each other one time while on holiday at Ibiza and they hit it off right away ("he's also fairly normal, like me, no crazy stuff or situations.") - Formule1, 2023/2024 issue

And not just Max-specific lore but my pet peeve very important for all F1 fic writers to know: the FIA does doping testing, also during winter-break.

#f1 anon #max verstappen

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superhoeva · 4 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘: 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄

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⬩ pairing(s) sexologist!francisco "frankie" morales x college student!female!reader

⬩ warning(s) very inaccurate scientific study methods (this could not happen in real life without someone going to jail, i think lol), language, flirting, sexual tension, scientific talk about genitals, safe sex practices, pcos (mentioned), endometriosis (mentioned), commentary on unbalanced male domination of sexual spaces, Spanish nicknames/pet names, smut smut smut, somewhat-guided masturbation, reader hs nipple pircings, dirty talk, mdom-ish!frankie, pussy drunk!frankie, consent checks, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), big hands!frankie, bodily fluids, doctor/patient relations, the whole "we want to but we can't but we might have to anyways" kind of vibes, some aftercare, pov switches (reader's pov uses "dr. morales. frankie's pov uses "frankie.")

⬩ author's note happy new year! starting 2024 off with a bang (literally, ha) of a new series. as mentioned before, this was inspired by an audio series created by anonyfun35 on the erotic audio site quinn (very much recommend the series and entire site if you're looking for more ethical alternatives to regular porn and able to spare a few extra dollars!), which is absolutely heavenly. frankie's been sitting in my heart recently after rewatching triple frontier, and now here we are! here is chapter one, as promised, and i can not wait to share the rest of this series with you all! (p.s. i know some people have asked to be tagged in this, but i no longer do tag lists. for those who want to keep up with new chapter, i'd recommend following the au: the study tag or just check back here regularly! heeds the warnings. let me know if i've forgotten any. drink your water. love you and hope you enjoy. <3

⬩ word count 6.4k(!)

The lobby is suspiciously comfortable for a doctor’s office. As if the chair you’ve been shuffling back and forth in for the past five minutes. You’ve decided to focus on the mint green tint of the walls to steady yourself. Your breath moves in and out of you in quivering streams, and you have to keep running your tongue over the flesh of your bottom lip to stop your teeth from drawing blood.

A sweet-looking brunette types away at the lobby desk, and she sends you a quick smile when you accidentally catch her eye. You hope the grin you send back doesn’t look as pitiful as it felt.

Straight across from you, there’s a poster of a vagina. Vibrant and contrasting nicely with the color of the wall, it labels each part of the genitalia with pretty, curvy letters. You read over each of them, laughing a little when you get to the clitoris. Maybe you should hang a copy of the poster over your headboard. Just to make it a little easier for those who need it.

Your eyes trail left. Another poster, this one with photos of different types of barrier methods for safe sex; on it is everything from internal condoms to dental dams and a short explanation for when it’s best to use them. You study it with a little more intent than the last one and become so engrossed that you don’t hear the receptionist at the desk until her third calling of your name.

You jolt a little, looking over at her with widened eyes.

“Sorry, yes?”

She smiles at the look on your face, shaking her head.

“It’s alright,” she promises, “that stuff’s actually pretty interesting, right? I just wanted to tell you that Dr. Morales is ready to start whenever you are.”

Ignoring the way your heart jumps a little, you rise from your seat with the best grin you can manage.

“Alright,” you nod, gaze flickering down a nearby hallway, “is it–”

“All the way down and to the right. Can’t miss it. And feel free to let me know if you need anything, before or after. I’m here for whatever you need me for.”

There’s something genuine in her voice that lets your shoulders relax. You smile again, and it feels real this time. “I think I’m okay right now, but I appreciate it, I do. Thank you.”

“No worries. Oh, and honey,” she pauses, taking a second to leave her seat and trot over in front of you. “Remember to breathe. Dr. Morales is a sweetheart, I promise. Wouldn’t work here if that wasn’t the case.”

Melanie the tag on her name reads. She gives you one last wink before returning to her desk. A warm feeling fills you nicely as you watch her for a few more seconds.

Melanie is nice. You like Melanie. If you could, you’d stay and talk to her for a while, but no sense in keeping the doctor waiting.

As you head down the hallway, the walk feels like it lasts half a second and a thousand years all at once. Time here seems to work a little differently, but maybe that’s only because of how unbelievably fucking nervous you are.

The room is at the end of the hall on the right. Just like Melanie said. The knock you give the door is softer than you mean for it to be, but it pulls open before you get the chance to knock again.

“Hi, welcome. Come on in, please.”

Well, fuck. Fuck.

The first thing you notice isn’t the fluff of hair on his head, or his big, doe, brown eyes–it’s his voice. A deep, pleasing rasp that’s soft and stirring, all of it combining into a sensation that sits snugly right in the middle of your chest. And legs.

You take a second to swallow the spit in your mouth.

“Hi,” you all but mumble back, swallowing again. God, you hope he doesn’t hear the sharp exhale that leaves your nose when he steps to the side with a smile. Your eyes blow up, big and wide, but only for a second as you swiftly compose yourself. You’re here for a scientific study, damn it, not to gape at how fucking gorgeous Dr. Morales is. Even though he is fucking gorgeous. “You’re Dr. Morales?”

“Yes,” he answers effortlessly, and you bite your tongue when he rattles off your name. His voice. You barely remember to nod, and he smiles. Now that you think about it, he hasn’t stopped smiling since he opened the door, and it’s already building a bit of sweat at the back of your neck. “It’s nice to meet you finally. Been seeing your name on all the paperwork, so it’s nice to put a face to it. Especially a face as nice as yours.”

You swallow, again, and can’t hold back the grin his words bring. “Thank you and uh… likewise.”

Dr. Morales pauses and your heart stops at the way his face drops. Then his eyebrows raise slightly like he’s impressed, and he takes in a long breath himself. A gulp of air finally refills your lungs when his smile returns, more of a smirk now.

“Thank you.”

The two words are followed by a small silence. You take it as a chance to look around. Dr. Morales takes it as a chance to glance you over, and his teeth bite into the side of his mouth at the dress you’re wearing. It’s airy and short, stopping just above the middle of your thigh.

He sniffs, clearing his throat.

“Well, if you want to go ahead and get seated, I think it’s best we just start with some introductions to break some ice. Then a short discussion about the study itself, boundaries, things like that. And I know you answered a lot of those types of questions in your application, but I think more authentic answers can come about when speaking, you know, face-to-face. Plus it’ll give us both the chance to get to know each other a little better. Relax before we get to the actual… activities for today’s session.”

You blink.

“You’re doing the… the stuff?”

Dr. Morales blinks.

“Yes,” he starts slowly, eyebrows furrowing. “I’m sorry, was that not what you were expecting? I-It’s in the forms you signed, though I guess it is pretty easy to glance over if you don’t know where to look. But if that’s not something you’re comfortable with, I completely understand. We also have some female doctors participating in the study if you–”

“–I’m comfortable with you doing it.” God, you know interrupting was rude. But the words spill out of you before you can stop them. “Really, I’m okay with it. Just surprised me a little, considering…”

A hard clenching of your teeth doesn’t work to hold back the small grin that sneaks upon your face at the expression on Dr. Morales’s face. He’s gone from warm to faltering and back to warm again, with a hint of delight just in the past few moments.

“Considering what?”

Dr. Morales squints his eyes as he asks the question. Watching and waiting for your answer with the knuckles of his fingers rubbing across his pink lips. You only let your gaze trail across the action for a short second. Any longer, and you’re sure you’ll melt away.

“Nothing,” you finally breathe with a soft laugh. The muscles in your neck tense and pull as you force your eyes upwards. Back to his eyes. “Sorry, uh… introductions?”

Something in his gaze shifts and he drops his hand.

“Right, right. Uh, feel free to take a seat here while I pull up your file real quick,” Dr. Morales tells you, motioning to the deep red chaise wing chair you didn’t notice until now. You nod, not trusting your voice, and settle into the large chair. It’s even more comfortable than the one in the lobby, and Dr. Morales just barely keeps his smile at how you subconsciously snuggle into the plush.

Other than the blood rushing past your ears, the clacking of his fast typing is the only sound in the room.

Much like the lobby, the room is rather warm for where you are, literally and figuratively. It’s a kind difference from something like the dentist or your normal practitioner. The opposite of the bright, sterile white you’d expected. You can tell the room was put together with the intention of being congenial for whoever steps inside. The velvet couch and nice rug that decorate the space tell you that much.

It seems that Dr. Morales dresses with the same purpose, white coat hanging forgotten on the back of his swivel chair, showing off the taupe button-up that stretches over his impressive set of shoulders. The shirt is tucked into a pair of thick, clean-cut jeans that hug around his waist.

“Alright,” Dr. Morales begins, sliding his chair over a few feet so you can see him a bit better. He smiles as he continues, reading off your name and age, to which you nod and smile back. You make sure the grin is big enough to cover the shiver that runs throughout your body and you don't notice that he didn’t even have to look at the screen when reciting the words.

“Great. Well, as I already told you, I’m Francisco Morales,” he chuckles, “one of the doctors here participating in this study you’ve so kindly agreed to be a part of. We’re really excited about all the knowledge we’re expecting to gain from the study. I, uh, we–we really appreciate you being here.”

“Oh, thank you for the opportunity. I’m also really excited. Never been involved in something like this before, so… yeah. I’m excited.”

Huh. Excited is one of the few words able to come to your mind as you bumble through the sentence. After only a few minutes with the doctor, you’ve found it’s somewhat difficult to form a coherent enough sentence. It’s even harder with him staring at you.

“What made you want to participate, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Um,” you start without thinking, “part of it was the topic of the study itself, I guess. So many of the things that have to do with sex, at least in my experience, are centered around men and their pleasure and what makes them feel good. So I think it’s refreshing to see something like this.”

“Oh, absolutely. That’s the whole reason for us doing this. I mean, we’ve got gynecologists, hormone specialists, endocrinologists, gender surgeons, and even sex therapists on my team all working together on this.”

“Oh, wow. That’s actually… really impressive,” you breathe out, but Dr. Morales shakes his head.

“It is, but I don’t wanna take all the credit. We’ve got a lot of amazing people working on this thing that’s gonna lead to ways to help women suffering from endometriosis, PCOS, trans women, everyone, really.”

Your eyes soften at the doctor’s words, and you straighten a little.

“Well, now I’m very happy to be here.”

Dr. Morales’s eyes squint with his smile this time. It’s the biggest he’s smiled all week.

“Good. I’m glad. And you’ve already filled out all the financial paperwork? Wanna make sure you get paid for this week’s session as soon as possible.”

“Oh, yeah. That was actually the other reason I signed up. Got some student loan payments coming up, and I could use the extra money.”

Dr. Morales laughs to himself.

“Loan payments are a bitch, aren’t they? Still paying mine off,” He shakes his head. Something about his curse pulls a small chuckle from you.

“Never heard a doctor curse before,” you tell him, and he laughs this time, raising his eyebrows with a shrug.

“Sorry. I’ll try to keep it at bay, but I should warn you… I can have a pretty dirty mouth.”

Whether he knows it or not, Dr. Morales’s voice seems to drop an octave as he speaks. The words are paired with his gaze clouding to something similar to a stirring ardor. It shakes something inside you, rumbling into the depths of your veins, heating you in a way that feels remarkable. In a way that has you clenching and reeling, eyes just barely watering.

He hasn’t even touched you yet, and he’s got you evaporating into a transcendent air of nothing. You brush your hands along the fabric of the skirt of your dress, arms stretching and trying to find some sense of relief. Dr. Morales stares into you, a burning observance of an action that your subconscious therefore controls more than anything. The look is hot and pointed and forces him to take in a long inhale. He squeezes the thin arm of his chair when you finally grant him a soft reply.

“I don’t mind.”

Dr. Morales pauses before letting out a huff. A smirk teases across his lips, and his mouth opens like he’s going to say something. He stops just short of whatever it is, opting to roll his seat a little closer to you while clearing his throat.

His elbows hit the top of his knees, gaze tilting to yours. Unable to hold it, you try to settle for his hands, but that doesn’t seem to calm you at all. You flick your eyes again, this time onto his thighs, but it’s no use.

Damn it.

“Um, so today’s session will revolve around cunnilingus and a some hand stimulation. Uh… sorry. Sorry, I–” Dr. Morales stumbles to a stop and your eyebrows furrow.

“You okay?”

He holds a hand out at the look on your face with a quick nod.

“Yeah, yes, I’m okay. Where was I? Uh… right, so like we talked about a little bit ago, I’ll be the one performing the… stuff, as you called it. And speaking of that, you’re still one hundred percent comfortable with me being to one to do it?”

“Hundred and ten,” you promise with a bobbing of your head that makes him grin again.

“Okay, then,” he nods back, hands rubbing against the denim of his jeans. “Let’s get started.”

.・゜゜・

You’re going to be the death of him.

He had an inkling of it when you greeted him at the door, those eyes all wide as you took everything in. He was confident about it when you assured him that you’d be alright with the fact that he’d be the one ‘doing the stuff.’ He knew when you didn’t mind his dirty mouth. And he was certain when you'd asked if he was alright.

Dead. That’s what you’ll make him by the end of this study, and he’ll go happy. A little embarrassed also, given how he started sputtering through his sentences like he was twenty years younger.

Frankie’s breath catches a little when he returns to the room after washing his hands. You’re just finishing the tie on the robe he’d provided you with, and he doesn’t realize how flimsy it is until now. It maps across your shape damn near perfectly as you hang your dress on the side of the wingchair.

“Hi,” you breathe out, spinning around. Frankie rakes his teeth over his bottom row of teeth hard.

“Hi,” he blinks back, making sure to brighten his face with a small smile. “Ready?”

You shakily hum your answer, smoothing down your robe to busy your hands. It’s made of silk and feels incredible, but boy is it small. Just barely covering the cheeks of your ass, you might as well be wearing nothing.

“Alright. So, before I forget, let me go ahead and get a swab of the inside of your cheek, just so we have that on record.”

Frankie grabs a long cotton swab and its transport tube off his desk, stepping over to where you stand waiting. He swallows, ordering you to softly open. You obey with no questions asked, dropping your jaws.

Did you mean to stick out your tongue, too? Frankie has no idea, but whatever the answer is, he doesn’t care, not with the rustle he feels in his middle.

“Thank you,” he replies after a few scrubs of your mouth, eyes catching yours briefly before sticking the swab in the tube and placing it back onto his desk. He huffs, turning back around to you. “Now, let’s get you settled on the couch.”

Frankie holds out his hand for you to take without thinking. The regret that runs through him slips away as you place your hand into his grip and let him lead you. His other hand reaches for his chair, rolling it over as he walks with you.

He rubs a gentle thumb on the back of your palm as you sit, hand squeezing into a fist when yours drops from his. Frankie sits in his chair with a grunt, planting his feet on the group, making sure to face you.

The man softens a little at the sight of you, all bunched up into a ball of returned nerves, and he thinks for a moment.

“How about we start with a deep breath, yeah? Relax a little bit before we do anything else?”

You nod and Frankie’s head goes a bit fuzzy for a short moment. You’re so sweet, with your tiny robe and all your nods, like candy. You breathe in deep, just like he says to. Your chest rises with it, and Frankie almost forgets to take in the breath as well.

“Good. Now, how we go from here is up to you,” Frankie starts, hands folding together politely. “Robe can stay on, or you can take it off. Your decision–”

“Robe off,” you speak before he’s finished. He holds back a chuckle. “Sorry. I’m okay with it off if you are.”

Of course, you are. Of course, you are, and so is he.

“That’s absolutely okay with me. As long as you’re comfortable,” he states, and your fingers go to pull at the tie. He shuffles, waiting, and swallows when you pause.”

“Um, is my bra being off okay? I took it off with my dress, didn’t even think about it until now.”

Frankie’s head pivots back to the wine-colored chair. And so you did. There’s more lace than he expects, causing him to stare longer than he means. He turns back to you with his eyes darker than before.

“That’s perfectly fine.”

You nod again, fuck, and finally pull the ties. His heart nearly stops as the silk slips down your shoulder, exposing your naked skin to him, inch by inch.

God, you’re devastating. You devastate him, and he’s going to die a happy, happy man. It’s inappropriate, he knows that, but fuck. Yes, he’s a doctor, but he’s also a man with blood pumping through his veins and down into his cock, which he’s currently shielding with a subtle cupping of his hand.

Your robe continues to fall, and soon enough, nearly all of you is revealed to him. His eyes, working with a mind of their own, fall upon your breasts.

Of course.

“Wow,” is all he says, and the corners of your mouth pull upwards. You peek down, the tips of your barbell piercings shining with every one of your shaky inhales. “Wow, uh… wow.”

“Oh, these. Yeah, I got them a few years ago,” you reveal, setting the robe to the side. “Hurt like hell, but it was worth it.”

“While I definitely agree, I was talking about your… everything. You’re gorgeous, querida.”

Querida. The name is unexpected, yet received by you with dilating pupils. It’s not just the way he says it but the way he says it. You can tell that he means it, every letter. Every syllable, as it falls off his tongue, into your ears, and down to just inside the thin layer of your panties.

It’s the only piece of clothing left on your body, and you’re certain they’re soaked. You can feel yourself seeping through, needing for something to happen. Anything, or you’ll die.

“Thank you,” you murmur back, impatience inching you closer and closer. To what, you don’t know, but you think it’s something special. “Should I go ahead and…?”

Dr. Morales’s gaze oozes down you where you’re slowly parting your legs. It takes him a second to answer.

“Uh,” he interrupts himself with a short laugh, “actually I was going to have you do something else for me first. When you’re, you know, in the act of pleasuring yourself, how do you usually start? Do you… do you dive right in or is there some kind of build-up?”

Legs having paused, you blink. It’s almost impossible to formulate an answer, but somehow you manage.

“Normally, I’d play with my nipples.” God, it sounds so silly when you say it out loud. “Tease myself for a little bit until I’m ready to start.”

The doctor sits back in his seat, still covering his growing member.

“Why don’t you go ahead and do a little bit of that for me?”

There’s that thing again. With his voice, the thing that is causing your organs to convulse and squeeze. Has you scooting a little further back onto the couch with ease and a deep breath.

You hear Dr. Morales suck in one of his own as your legs spread a little further, revealing a large wet splotch in the very middle of your panties. It’s seeped a little into the couch, and you’re not even embarrassed. Your legs more because you want him to see it. You need him to.

A flinch jerks you when the tips of your fingers meet the buds of your breast. You twist and pull, and it feels good. Better than normal with the beautiful doctor watching you do it. They start to pebble around the metal and a few shocks through you.

Leaving your lips is a gasp. Soft and nearly nothing, but it tugs something from Dr. Morales.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

When you gasp again, he bites his lip.

“You like that? You like it when I say that?”

You nod.

“Words, querida.” No matter how much he likes the nod.

“Yes, I like it when you say that.”

“When I say what?”

You hear him chuckle at the small groan you release.

“A good girl.”

Your voice is even smaller now, hoarse with want.

“Good girl.” Another groan from you. “Now, I need you to move a little further down, okay? Slip those pretty panties off for me.”

Your turn.

“You really like them?”

Dr. Morales’s throat bobs at your question you ask while dragging your hand lower. They glide across your stomach to rest just over your center. Pushing onto your clit, your moan is muffled by the way your teeth catch the soft flesh of your lip.

“I do, muñeca,” he assures you. “I really do. They’re almost as pretty as you are.”

You can’t help the full grin that sneaks onto your face. You push against yourself a little harder, and your head falls to the back of the couch. Fingers hooking under the seam, you tug.

Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion at this moment. You raise your head back up, just to catch the reaction from the doctor, who’s already gazing into your pussy when your eyes refocus. His breathing changes from long, calming inhales, to unsteady suspires.

“Jesus,” he grits out just under his breath when you eventually throw your panties alongside the robe and fully open yourself to him. Clenching around nothing, you relax further into the couch, legs propped and feet settled against the velvet.

Your huffs push out hot when Dr. Morales finally lifts from his seat. You don’t dare look away as he steps forward, towering over you. He bends at the waist, face lowering near your own. He gets so close that, for a split second, you think he’s going to kiss you. Press his pouting lips into yours like you so badly want him to.

His breath fans across your face, but he pulls away before you get to bask in any of the warmth. In his hand is a pillow from the couch that he plops onto the floor.

“Bad knees,” Dr. Morales mumbles, smirking at the dazed look in your eye. You say absolutely nothing, only watching as he drops his knees onto the wide pillow, hands clenching the edge of the couch cushions.

All the doctor does for a tick is stare. He stares and stares, tongue darting out to wet his mouth.

“Keep rubbing for me, hermosa,” Dr. Morales orders. “Just a little more.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing when your fingers dip down and come back sticky with your wetness. A whine exits you, and your head falls again.

“Can you touch me now? Please,” you remember to add at the end, the ache between your legs forcing you to squirm. “Please, I can’t wait anymore.”

A hand on your thigh almost startles you. Your head tips back up to see his palm sitting heavy against your leg.

“This what you want?” He asks, another scalding touch planting itself on your other thigh. His hands give thrilling grips, thumbs landing at the very edge of your dripping lips.

A pathetic nod from you.

“Words, gorgeous,” Dr. Morales tells you, gaze completely unmoving.

Gorgeous. Hm. A new one, but just as effective.

You pant a few more times before pushing out “Yes, that’s what I wanted.”

“Good girl,” he praises, and you’re nearly done for. “Now, if I ask on a scale of one to ten, how turned on are you right now?”

It’s tough to think of an answer. His hands, so big and inching closer and closer to your heat, are melting your thoughts away at record speed. Everything you try to come up with leaves too fast for you to catch them.

“A… a seven,” you sigh, liking the way his eyes twinkle at your response. “Seven.”

Dr. Morales chuckles lowly, looking up at you.

“Seven?” Frankie grins. “I haven’t touched your pussy yet, and you’re already at a seven?”

He waits for an answer but only receives a long whine that makes him want to laugh again. Fuck, you’re cute. And wet enough that your juices ooze out of you with a pretty shine, and it’s all for him.

Honestly, the only reason he’s lasted this long is because this is for science. Because Francisco Morales is a medical professional and needs to have some kind of composure. It’s breaking, though. He knows it, and not just because of the way his hands crawl closer and closer to your pussy. Or because of the ache in his cock that’s straining against the crotch of his jeans. Sucking in a breath at the feeling of it catching against the tight fabric, Frankie scans you.

Your chest, those stunning tits, have a noticeable rise and fall and you watch him. Something in your gaze, an unexplainable force, finally pulls his face down. It’s as close to your pussy as it’s been. He tries to remind himself about the self-control he’s supposed to be possessing, but a few more seconds pass and it’s nowhere to be found.

He starts just off the left side. The first kiss, soft and careful to start easy. Figure out what you like, what you don’t, and what you really like.

Kiss after kiss, his lips press a little harder. Gliding across the skin of your thighs and pelvis, staying in a spot a little long when it elicits a sound or squirm from you.

The pecks turn to full smooches, and he soon enough finds himself right where he wants to be.

Eyes meeting yours, he sinks into you with a long, fiercely slow drag of his tongue. Frankie’s gaze ties into yours, he puckers his lips and sucks. It’s a supple thing that he pairs with a flick of his tongue right across your pearl.

“Oh,” you squeak, unable to continue with anything but another broken sound. When you arch, Frankie’s hand reaches higher to rest against your hip. He had his suspicions that you were a squirmer, but to see it like this, up close is something else. Something special. “Shit.”

God, you taste incredible. Better than incredible, and while he wants to tell you he can’t. There’s no way he’s pulling away from this, so he suffices for his own moan.

“Fuck,” he mumbles against you, mouth lifting to suck a bit harder. The hand not occupied on your hip reaches until his thumb sits just inside your opening. He rubs, delicately, all the way up, only pulling his mouth away to smooth it over the slick skin.

Another moan, this time from both of you when your hips grind upwards. He matches your movements, letting his head dip back down to continue his lick.

After a while, Frankie decides to up it a notch. Delve as much of his mouth as he can against you, lapping and slurping whatever he can catch before it leaks down onto his chin. The sound it makes, your pussy and his soaking lips, is disgusting. Loud, sinful squelches of wetness that he would give anything to hear for the rest of his life.

Yet somehow, what leaves you is even better. A combination of hitching breaths, loud coos, and cries for him to keep going. Just like that, fuck. So he keeps going, just as he is until he can barely breathe.

He yanks away from you with a grunt but makes sure to replace his tongue with his hand.

“Such a gorgeous pussy,” Frankie husks out, pressing another kiss to your inner thigh while he finishes catching his breath. “What number now, princesa?”

Frankie makes sure to wait until you’re about to answer him when he snakes his tongue into your slit and fucks. His head bobs back and forth, tongue caressing as deep inside of you as he can. His fingers return to your clit, rubbing with ease thanks to the mixture of slick and spit.

“I don’t know, I can’t think of one,” you rush out, and Frankie chuckles. He gives you one last bold lick before pulling away. He has to hold you tighter when you squirm in irritation, nearly sobbing.

Frankie shushes you with a kind pat on your thigh. You don’t have a chance to whine anything out before he hooks an arm of your thighs and tugs you to the edge of the couch. One of your legs hangs just off the couch, so the doctor hitches it over his shoulder.

His eyebrows scrunch, and he focuses his attention on ghosting a few fingers just barely inside of you. He looks up at you and is met with you already looking back, ready and waiting for him to push further.

He pauses in a wait. Not ten seconds pass before you try to thrust his fingers further yourself, but he doesn’t let you.

“All you need to do is give me a number, baby, and I’ll fuck these as deep as you want.”

“Nine,” you whisper, and he spots your hands clench. You must want to touch him.

“Nine,” he repeated, thumb rolling a circle over your clit. “How many fingers to get you to ten?”

“Three, plea–ah,” you mewl out when Frankie slides his middle digit inside you. He lets out his own noise at the way you suck him in.

His hand bottoms out, and you’re already fucking yourself on his finger. “That’s a girl. Already taking my finger so well. Feel so fucking good around me.”

You’re truly a sight to behold as Frankie watches you, skin damp with a slight sheen, curving and grinding against his hand. Speed increasing, almost growls when he bends to lap at your clit. His tongue twirls against the bud of nerves, and he has to close his eyes to stop himself from reaching down and giving his painfully hard cock a squeeze.

Frankie slides in the second and third finger at the same time, and you break.

You don’t mean to tangle his hair with your fingers, but they do anyway. It’s hard, but you tug them away, clenching the couch instead.

“Sorry. Sorry, I–” you blurt out, breath long gone, but Dr. Morales has none of it. He doesn’t lift from his licking and swirling to grab your hand and tangle your fingers back into his hair. “Fuck me.”

The rhythm he finds is relentless. He pumps knuckles deep inside you, sliding in and out, collecting a residue of thick moisture. He curls his fingers, searching and finding the spongy spot that causes you to tighten your grip on his hair. His fingertips drag across it, over and over, and you fall limp in his grasp.

“Good fucking girl,” he tells you, words slurring together in his pussy-drunken state. “So good for me. Now I need you to cum, alright? Need you to come for me, all over my fingers so I can drink it all up.”

Dr. Morales slurps messily, chin now nearly dripping as he eats at you. Savoring the tang and hint of sweet while his fingers drive with a steady vigor. There’s no way you can stay still now. You arch, twist, and grind into the doctor, propelling him even deeper. He’s reaching somewhere inside of you that you once thought impossible. Taking grasp of you entirely.

You’re close. You’re so close

“I’m clo–fuck, yes, I’m close. Please don’t stop, please,” you whimper.

“Yeah, you are. Squeezing all nice around me, like a good girl. Sucking you into my mouth. Love how you feel on my mouth, baby. And on my tongue and around my fingers. Never gonna forget how you taste. Shit, could come just like this, so I need you to come right now, okay?”

Frankie doesn’t even know what he’s saying, his rambles. They just pour out, some of it incomprehensible as he busies himself with circling and flicking your sensitive clit.

You sob out one last moan before the damn breaks. He groans along with you at the way your clit throbs against his tongue. His fingers slow, but only a bit as they make sure to rub right against your g-spot.

A choking sound leaves you as you can barely breathe. The air sucks from your lungs almost as hard as Dr. Morales does down below, and your eyes clench shut. You see stars and space, world falling mute, and body quaking with a thick orgasm.

It rolls over you in drowning waves, the euphoric warmth, driving you with an unbearable bliss. You whine, crying out a few tears. Twitching and shivering under the strong hands of Dr. Morales.

His hold is tender as you work through it, talking to you gently in the pauses he takes from licking you clean.

“Fucking look at you, querida.”

“Did so good for me, so fucking perfect.”

“Can’t wait to get you back in here next week.”

Only some of the words make it to your ears. The blood rushing makes it hard to understand, but just the sound of it is comforting enough. You feel more kisses press into you, this time just under your belly button, as the fingers inside you still.

The two of you stay like that for several minutes. Dr. Morales murmuring quietly to talk you down. Your leg still over his shoulder caressed by his free hand, while your own twirls at his brown locks.

“Fuck me,” you breathe out eventually, and Dr. Morales smiles against you. You can’t help but join him, chest warming at the final peck he places onto your knee before lowering your leg.

“Gonna pull out, okay? I’ll go slow,” he tells you. You nod, hand falling around his to touch at the warm skin. You huff out a short breath, mouth falling open as you stare at the wetness revealed when he begins to pull out.

Frankie whispers out his own damn, watching you until his fingers are free. Fuck, you’re pretty, aren’t you?

“I meant what I said earlier,” he declares, pushing away the thought. “Did great, muñeca. Incredible, actually.”

“I could say the same for you…” you mumble with a shy grin, and Frankie finds it touching. You’re divine. You’re precious. You’re… his patient.

The room is filled with heat and smells of sex. It clouds Frankie’s brain, but he knows he needs to keep moving. You can dwell, but not him. He’s got a job to do.

Frankie only lets himself stare for a few more minutes before he rises with a groan. His knees are aching, but he doesn't care. His face heats when you help him up the rest of the way, loose limbs and wet stains in all.

“Thank you,” he smiles, moving to hand you your robe with his untainted hand. “Let me go grab you some water and a towel, and then we can do your swab so you can get out of here.”

He’s turning to leave, heading for the bathroom across the hall to wash his hand–it’s still wet and shining, even now–but stops when he sees the look on your face.

“Is it required that I leave right away?”

Frankie is quick to answer. The small pout on your face makes it so.

“Of course not,” he shakes his head. “You’re free to take your time, take a breath. Sip on the water I’m gonna go grab you. Hell, you can even take a nap, if you want. I’ve uh… we’ve got rooms upstairs with beds and blankets. I think there are some snacks in there, too.

“Really?” You blink at him.

“Yeah. Gotta keep you all as comfortable as possible.”

Frankie sees that look again, the pout. He’s not sure you even know you’re doing it.

“I actually might take you up on that nap. I don’t think my legs have really come back yet,” you tell him, looking at him while slipping on the robe. When feels your eyes trail down, right to the bulge in his pants, he sucks in a rough inhale and does his best to screen the obvious.

“I’ll be right back with that water and towel,” Frankie rushes out, turning for the door.

His clean hand is sitting shaky on the handle when he hears you.

“Do you want me to…” you trail off, pausing for so long that he doesn’t expect you to keep going. “I could help you with that if you want.”

That. He knows you aren’t talking about getting water or towels, and it crumbles him. He grits his teeth, dick jumping at the thought of your–

No. No, he can’t. No matter how much he wants to, he can’t.

Frankie turns, digging deep for the strength to look you in the eyes.

“...we shouldn't, sweetheart. It’s against the rules, and we don’t want either of us getting in any kind of trouble, right?”

It takes a long time for you to nod. Way too long.

“Right,” you agree, but Frankie can smell the lie. He wonders if you can smell his, too.

#frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier smut #triple frontier #au: the study

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texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. xiv

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter | chapter summary: The final chapter pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 9.2k (I love being insane) chapter warnings: SMUT (18+only) - unprotected sex. Insecurity/Jealousy. Angst/arguments. Discussions of death, blood and injuries. Alcohol & Marijuana use. Fluff. Bisexual reader (happy pride ya'll!). As always please dm for more specifics. a/n: This could probs use another round of proofreading but it would've delayed this even longer sooooo.... Here we go! I feel pretty emo right now and I might make a more in-depth post about my thoughts at a later date bc I just finished writing this in a hot daze so I can't put all my thoughts coherently together. But I just wanna say thank you to everyone who supported and gave love to this story. This is by far the most popular fic I've ever written, and I don't really know how? Or what I did to deserve all the love but I just want you to know how much I appreciate it. Thank you for sticking with me through all the angst and delayed updates and everything. I'll never forget you and I'll never forget Joel x Reader!! Thank you so much, I hope the finale lives up to your expectations! ❤️

**I DO NOT HAVE A TAGLIST. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

I’m not the kind of man who tends to socialize I seem to lean on old familiar ways….

-May 16, 2024-

“Are you sure you’re okay if I leave you here alone?”

Ethan’s voice jolts you out of a daze, and you blink your eyes open, realizing that you’d dozed off while sitting upright in a patio chair, the cheesy romance novel you’d been reading still lying open on your lap. Turning to look over your shoulder, you find him standing with one foot on the deck, and one foot still inside, cut in half by the sliding glass door.

Clearing your throat, you straighten up and nod. “Of course. I’ll be fine.”

Ethan studies you carefully, like he’s not entirely convinced. He’s been hesitant to leave you alone unless it’s absolutely necessary – only stepping away from the house to go on patrol shifts and to bring home meals from the mess hall. Recovery has made you feel like a burden to him – to all your friends in the community, really. Everyone….well, almost everyone, has been supportive, but you’ve never been comfortable being openly vulnerable.

Unfortunately, it’s too hard to deny the pain that you’ve been in since the accident, the trouble you have getting around, the exhaustion that clings no matter how many long naps and twelve-hour nights of sleep you get. According to the doctors, being so tired is just part of recovery – rest is important, but the concoction of pain medication you’ve been prescribed only makes your drowsiness and confusion worse. It had been a big deal that tonight you’d mustered the energy to drag yourself outside to sit in the fresh air.

“I’m fine,” you assure Ethan, once again. “Have fun on your date.”

“It’s not really a date,” he says, almost a little too quickly. “We’re just hanging out.”

“Right,” you say, matter-of-factly. “Do I know who this person is?”

Ethan looks at his feet. “You remember the day this shit happened?” he asks, gesturing towards you. “Before you left on patrol, the girl that said hi to me? It’s her. Her name is Alex.”

“Oh?” you tilt your head, give him a small smile. “She was cute. How’d you ask her out?”

“Well,” he begins, scratching the back of his neck. “I may have…uh, gotten some advice.”

“You didn’t think to ask me?” you’re able to muster up a small smile.

“I would’ve, I just…..” he shakes his head. “It seemed stupid…with everything you have going on.”

“It’s not stupid,” you say, feeling a wave of guilt. Even though he’s the one looking after you, you haven’t spoken to him much about anything going on in his life. In fact, you haven’t really spoken to anyone in a long time, beyond thank you’s and blanket statements like I’m doing better. You feel disconnected, and more lonely than ever. If you ever get enough energy to leave your house, you expect most of the people in the community to have forgotten you exist. “Who’d you ask?”

“Uhm….” Ethan runs a hand through his long dark hair, shifts his weight. “….I’ve been assigned on patrol with Joel Miller a lot lately….so….”

You almost laugh when he uses Joel’s full name. Joel has been such a huge part of your life – sometimes the hero, sometimes the villain – that you don’t need to hear his last name to know who Ethan’s talking about. You could know a thousand Joel’s, and he’d still be the first person that came to mind. But Joel is still a sore subject, and Ethan knows it, which is why you suspect he’s avoided telling you this in the first place. You feel your eyebrows knit together, only able to let out an unenthused. “Oh.”

“I just, you know….he’s a guy. And it sounds like you even liked him at one point so….he must know something, right?”

“That was a long time ago,” you say quickly, regardless of the fact that he’s right.

It’s probably not fair to blame Joel for everything that has happened to you. You know this, deep down. But you’ve been so helpless and isolated since you’ve woken up in that hospital bed that you’re desperate to find someone to hold accountable. And Joel hadn’t visited you in the hospital once. By this point, he’s abandoned you so many times that your resentment feels justified, even if your current state is not directly his fault. Because it was you, after all, who had walked into the path of those men, too angry to think clearly, too weak to take them down alone. The only person you can blame is yourself, and you really don’t want to.

“Did he tell you to take her out on patrol, make her cry, and almost get her killed?”

Ethan clicks his tongue, looks down, almost ashamed. “No. He did not.”

“You should be careful with Joel,” you warn.

“I was…” Ethan says. “But I don’t think it’s that simple. I think he’s actually alright.”

“So you’re friends with him now,” you state, hoping he refutes. But instead, he looks up at you, frowns, and lifts his chin.

“What happened to you was horrible. It shouldn’t have happened. And yeah, maybe you think he’s the reason you almost died…. I don’t know the specifics so you can believe whatever you want. But I know that he’s the reason you’re still alive.” Ethan’s voice breaks, and you feel tears brimming your eyes before he continues. “He brought you back here, he donated his blood, he-”

“What?” you cut him off.

“What do you mean, what?” Ethan asks. “He was the only person there who had your blood type. You would’ve died if he didn’t. They didn’t tell you this?”

“Whatever it took to make him feel less guilty, sounds like,” you say, dismissively.

Something hot burns in your veins, something that must have always been there since you woke up, but you’re only feeling it now. It’s unsettling, Joel being a part of you that way. Your lives had already seemed intertwined enough already. But now, he’s inescapable.

“Well, he stayed by your side every night while you were asleep. Fuck, I mean, he was probably there just as often as I was. He made sure I ate, and slept and showered and… and he never once asked for anything in return. He cares about you as much as I do, clearly, so I don’t think it’s wrong to think he’s a good guy….”

You must not care about me that much, you want to say, but you stop yourself. Because it’s not true, and you’d only be saying it to hurt him. You have nothing to defend yourself with, no way to convince him otherwise, and so you just stare at him until he shakes his head and slips back inside.

Ethan is stubborn, he always has been. And it’s a special kind of stubbornness, fueled by anger – so common in most of the young people you meet these days. You understand why they’re all like this. When you’re robbed of your childhood – you get stuck there….waiting….. Like someday you’ll have a chance to do it all over again, regardless of how obvious it is that you won’t.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-May 25, 2024-

Things get better, albeit slowly. You begin to wean off the pain medication, which makes you more alert. It’s still difficult to leave your house, but you can move around it more easily, and you don’t spend all your days sleeping. Luckily, you aren’t as stir-crazy as you’d been expecting.

One afternoon, Ellie Williams shows up on your doorstep with a bag full of groceries.

“Maria wanted me to bring these to you,” she says when you open the door. “She told me to tell you she’ll be over tomorrow, but she wanted me to give you these to tide you over.”

“That’s very nice. Thank you for bringing them to me,” you try to take the bag from her hands, but she steps back just a little, like she’s unsure if you should be carrying anything. You let your hands drop to your sides. “Would you like to come in?”

Ellie hesitates for a split second, adjusting the bag in her arms, and then nods. “Sure.”

Stepping to the side, you allow her into the home. Because of how warm it is outside, you’ve opened all the windows to let the breeze through.

“Sorry for the mess,” you say, Ellie following you into the living room. There are stacks of books and pill bottles with instructions scattered on your countertop. You haven’t swept the floors in awhile and all the hard surfaces are covered in a thin layer of dust. It’s not really that bad, but you don’t have the energy or strength to be on your feet for long – let alone to clean the house.

“I don’t mind,” Ellie says. “It’s not even that bad. I don’t know why older people worry about leaving your house messy and shit….no offense.”

“There was a time it used to matter,” you tell her. “And I see where you’re coming from, but my thing is – if you’re going to live somewhere, you should do what you can to make yourself feel comfortable.”

Ellie purses her lips, as if you’ve made a good point but she doesn’t know how to answer. Instead, you continue. “Can I get you anything? Water?”

“No, I’m okay,” she puts the bag on your kitchen counter.

“You can sit if you’d like,” you tell her. “I just need a moment to put these away.”

When you walk into your living room a few minutes later, she’s hovering near your record player, looking through the vinyls. The turntable was already in the house when you’d arrived years ago, but it was buried in the closet and broken. Ethan had managed to fix it after a little troubleshooting and scavenging for parts. Now, you both were always looking for records to bring home, and had amassed quite the eclectic collection – jazz, funk, hip-hop, and everything in between.

“Wow,” Ellie says, running her fingers along the shelved records. “You found all these?”

“Some of them were already here. But yeah. Ethan and I are always on the lookout on patrol. I can play you something. What do you like?”

“Eighties, I think,” she says. “But…I also haven’t heard as much.”

“Well here,” you thumb through the records, pull out a worn copy of Speaking In Tongues. “How about some Talking Heads?”

You pass the record over to her, and she stares at you blankly. It’s only then that you realize — she’s never used a record player before. There’s a familiar pang of sadness before you show her how.

“Are you feeling better?” Ellie eyes you wearily once the music starts, and you settle onto the couch, feeling a little worn out after being on your feet.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m older now, so it seems like healing takes a lot more time.”

Ellie nods, then bobs her head to the music a little. “This is better than most of the stuff Joel likes.”

“Oh yeah,” you smirk, and instinctually, you recall his enthusiasm for all things old-school country. “I remember that,” you say softly.

With so much time on your hands lately, you’ve found yourself thinking of Joel a lot, reminiscing on the time you’d spent with him and Sarah. What Ethan had told you about him staying by your side was definitely making you reconsider your assessment of him, even if you were still hesitant. It was probably a trap to think you’d ever be able to feel those things with him again, but if remembering them brought you comfort, you weren’t going to resist it.

“You’re more than welcome to come over to listen anytime,” you offer, and she nods excitedly.

Ellie stays for longer than you expect. You talk a fair bit. She tells you about what she’s learning in school – but mostly how ‘fucking useless’ it is. She wanders around your living room and pokes through your stuff without asking, but you don’t think to stop her – you just answer her questions and let her be curious.

Eventually, the sun dips below the horizon, and she excuses herself to go home, insisting that Joel will ‘fucking kill her’ if she’s out too late. Even though you’re exhausted after entertaining her for a few hours, you find it feels nice. Being on house arrest, essentially, had left your starved for connection outside Maria and Ethan.

You see her out the door before returning to your refrigerator to look for something to eat. Ethan will be back from patrol any minute, so it may be nice to make him something even if you have almost no energy.

But when there’s another knock on your front door, you’re shocked to see who you find staring on your porch.

Joel.

You almost forget to speak at the sight of him. It’s been weeks since your accident and he might as well have moved away from Jackson since you hadn’t seen him at all.

“Hey,” you say, tentatively, taking him in. He seems preoccupied – cheeks flushed, hair rumpled, and out of breath, like he had run all the way to get here.

“Have you seen Ellie?” he asks, not even greeting you in return. “I’ve looked everywhere and I-

“You just missed her,” you cut him off, not because you’re trying to dismiss him, but because he's clearly distressed. “I’m surprised you didn’t see her on your way over.”

Joel sighs, eyes closing in relief. “Thank God.” For a second, you glimpse the frazzled and overworked father you used to know. “She stayed out too late, had me worried sick.”

“She’s fine,” you say. “Although she did say you might kill her if she didn’t get home soon.”

Joel gives you an almost imperceptible smile, but seems mostly irritated by Ellie’s suggestion. “I would do no such thing.” He shakes his head and takes two steps backwards. “Thank you. Didn’t mean to be a bother.”

Your mind floats to a memory of Joel on your front porch, late getting home from work and looking for Sarah, and you can’t help but feel a bit of sadness and longing for a simpler time, a surge of affection.

Joel is halfway down your front porch steps when you speak again. “You aren’t bothering me.”

He pauses, turns to look over his shoulder. There’s something he wants to say, you can feel it, and you step outside, letting the door fall shut behind you and remaining huddled against the siding, and he turns to face you fully, sighing. “I’ve been meaning to stop by, actually….”

“Oh…really?” you can’t keep the surprise from your voice, and he notices.

“Yeah,” Joel rubs his fingers together, a nervous habit of his you know all too well. “Yeah. I- well, I wanted to apologize to you.”

You’re so startled by the words you can’t answer right away. But the split second of hesitation causes Joel to continue, looking to fill the empty space.

“I’ve been waiting to find the right thing to say….but it doesn’t seem like that’ll ever happen. I’m not even sure I know where to start.”

“Oh,” is all you can manage, still taken aback. The only thing that doesn’t surprise you about his admission is the sincerity. You could say a lot of things about Joel, but he isn’t a liar. He always tells the truth. Maybe it’s why he pulled away from you to begin with. It’s easier than the alternative – spending time with you, which would force him to be honest. For how much you’ve changed, you’d probably do the same.

But the thing with Joel is that you’re exhausted. You’re tired of the back and forth, of the push and pull, of the constant struggle to hold your care over each other's head, hoping the other will break first. Maybe this is a fresh start.

You step closer to him, and you see him study the way you move. Of course, you’re trying to look strong, but he can surely sense the weakness. He’d always been good at that, better than any of the others. Your hand comes to rest on the porch railing for support.

But…..

There’s that voice in the back of your head, the one that tells you this is a mistake. The one that reminds of the pain you’ve often earned through vulnerability. It likes to think it’s served you, protected you, and it has. But it’s not always right.

“I suppose I owe you an apology, too,” you say. “At the very least I should thank you for what you did.”

Joel shakes his head, dismissively, but looks to where your hand rests on the porch railing, looks back up to you as he reaches out. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

His hand clasps over yours, and to anyone else, this might be nothing. It’s so innocent, unassuming. But the effect it has on you is palpable. He squeezes once, and you flip your hand over, squeezing his back, giving him a gentle smile. “I am too.”

Joel’s eyes fill with a warmth you haven’t seen in twenty years, and your stomach flutters, your heart races. A part of yourself that you’d considered long dead seems to rouse.“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I told Ellie we’d go to the mess hall together,” Joel says. “Otherwise I would.”

You blink once, and Joel sees it, immediately continuing on. “But maybe Ellie and I can come another time, join you and Ethan?”

“Yeah. He’d like that,” you say. “That might be nice.” ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-June 20, 2024-

You think that at the end of a long winter, bears must hate coming out of hibernation.

It must suck. They spend months sleeping, doing almost nothing, and then suddenly they’re forced to function again – to hunt, to eat, to roam, to survive and socialize. You imagine there has to be a learning curve, a desire to crawl back into their den and never leave again.

Or maybe you could be wrong, and they love it. And you’re just a wimp who hates feeling uncomfortable.

All you know is that you’re huddled in the back corner of the Tipsy Bison, nursing a whiskey – and it’s the last place you want to be.

You’re overwhelmed.

And despite the fact that you regularly used to attend community events, it’s been so long since you've been out in Jackson that you feel like you don’t belong. To some extent, you’ve always felt this – too hardened by the outside world to fully assimilate, especially when the town throws dances. But in the past, you at least attempted to convince yourself otherwise.

Two weeks back, the doctors had cleared you to go about your daily activities as normal – within reason, of course – but you hadn’t exactly jumped at the opportunity. Tonight, Ethan had accused you of becoming ‘antisocial’ and ‘reclusive’. You had agreed to attend – but only to beat those allegations. So far, you are definitely not.

You scan the crowd, taking in the people spinning around the dance floor. Some of the women are wearing dresses. You can’t help but feel a little envious of how easily they’re able to perform femininity, which is something you’d given up on a while ago. It hadn’t exactly served you before arriving in Jackson, and you predict it would be humiliating to start trying now. After all the things you’d experienced, you were left marred with scars and wrinkles, stretch marks and loose skin. Since then, you’ve remained loyal to the combination of men’s denim and tank tops with flannel-button downs overtop.

It doesn’t always stop the men in the community from descending like vultures. You might be the last pick – there are plenty others who are younger and prettier – but you’re still an option. Bea, your old partner, had always theorized that some men were particularly drawn to sapphic women, that it was ‘the ultimate challenge’. Maybe there is some truth to her theory, but you like men….sometimes. So there is always a part of you that yearns for their validation, for as many times as you tell yourself you don’t want it. But it never feels good to get it after you’ve watched them exhaust all their other options.

It’s pathetic, but it makes you think of Joel. He and Ellie had been over to yours and Ethans last week for a nice dinner, and you had tried to gauge whether there was any romantic connection between you still. Occasionally, you’d caught him looking at you with a wistful smile, but he could have been lost in thought. It’s not like you needed that from him or anything, but it might be useful information. After all this time, Joel is still so handsome, and probably has an impressive selection of potential partners here in Jackson – women of all ages. You hope he’s not here tonight – you can’t see much besides the dance floor at this point – because the thought of him cozied up to anyone here, combined with the acrid taste of the drink in your hand, makes you want to gag.

You take another look around the room. Eugene, your partner in crime – quite literally – is walking towards you, which helps quell your spiraling mind . If you talk to him, say hello to Tommy and Maria, maybe Ethan will see the effort you’re making and you can sneak out without having to deal with anyone. It’s wishful thinking, but it’s worth a shot. The sooner you can get home tonight, the better.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel can’t stop staring.

He knows it’s impolite. He knows that he’s not being subtle. He knows that if any other person in this bar followed his eyeline, they’d pick up on what he was doing in an instant. But every minute he doesn’t get called out for it, he becomes more and more emboldened.

It’s the first dance he’s ever been to in Jackson, and the only reason he’s here is to placate Ellie and Tommy. But even they have abandoned him in favor of better companions – his brother is deep in conversation with Maria, sitting across from him in a booth, and Ellie is out on the dance floor dancing with one of her new friends, Dina.

Joel just can’t help himself. He still feels guilty for what he’s done, but he can’t shake the feeling of a soft hand clasped within his own – the first time he’d felt any semblance of hope since arriving here. Tommy and Maria had already slyly let him know about all the women who were interested, but he couldn’t bring himself to entertain their advances. There’s only one he wants, and she won’t even look in his direction.

When he’d first noticed you, you were whispering with Eugene on the opposite side of the dance floor. According to Tommy, you spend a fair bit of your time with the old man, which Joel initially thought to mean that you had some sort of entanglement. At first, Joel thought that couldn’t be possible. But you were deep in focus as you listened to Eugene’s words, nodding and leaning in closer and closer, and Joel thinks Tommy might be right. He wants to understand what you see in this man – tall and unkempt, covered in tattoos with long, graying hair and a beard to match. But Joel catches himself in his judgment, he’s probably just as unappealing – not just because of how he’s aged, but because of how horrible he’s been to you in general.

The next time Joel sees you, you’re at the bar, chatting with a man who Maria had introduced him to not long ago, a resident who is new in town. Joel had been too busy focusing on the fact that he’d been in Jackson long enough to not be its newest resident that he couldn’t remember his name. He wishes he had, so he could keep tabs on him. Of course, he can’t blame the man for being drawn to you – Joel knows very well that you’re hard to miss in a crowd.

Still, Joel bristles when you both step away from the bar, and the man’s hand lands just above your sacrum. He actually finds himself tensing up, resisting the urge to intervene, because it’d likely only make you angry. Plus, maybe you are interested. That question is answered quickly when you reach behind your to clasp the man's hand and place it back at his side. Where it belongs, he thinks.

“Joel!”

He snaps his attention to what’s in front of him – interrupted, and probably for good measure, lest he get himself too worked up. Ethan approaches with a girl his age, her arm linked through his. Joel stands to greet them.

The terse understanding between himself and Ethan while you were still in the hospital had somehow turned into a friendship, especially after they’d begun getting paired up on patrol. Ethan reaches out for Joel’s hand to dap him up, slinging an arm briefly over his shoulder.

“How’s it going, kid?”

“Good, good,” Ethan nods, pulling back, and gestures to the girl next to him. “Joel, this is Alex.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she says. “Ethan’s told me all about you.”

“Really?” Joel asks, feeling a little bewildered.

“Only good things,” Alex says quickly, as if she senses his apprehension. Ethan puts his arm around her waist. Joel recalls a few weeks back when he’d asked for advice on how to ask out a girl. Joel hadn’t pried at the time, but now he seems to understand, and is surprised by the swell of pride he feels. “Ethan says you’re a fucking badass,”she giggles after she swears.

Joel looks over at Ethan. “I don’t know about that.”

He shrugs, changes the subject. “Since when do you come to these things?” Ethan asks.

“Ellie dragged me out,” Joel answers.

“I did the same with my aunt,” Ethan chuckles. “But now I can’t find her, and I’m pretty sure she’s escaped.”

“Oh, is she here?” Joel plays dumb, like he hasn’t been aware of exactly where you have been all night. “I haven’t seen her.”

“I think she was with Eugene earlier,” Alex has to stand on her toes to speak into Ethan’s ear. Joel watches Ethan’s nose wrinkle.

“Do you know Eugene at all?” Ethan turns to Joel. “I’m trying to figure out what’s going on there, but she won’t say anything.”

Joel wishes that he had more information. “Tommy says they seem close.”

“I know that,” Ethan says. “I wish she would just be honest with me. It’s not like I would be mad. Whatever,” he shakes his head. “We can talk about it another time. I just want to find her so I can introduce her to Alex.”

“We should say hi to Tommy and Maria first,” Alex says, and Ethan nods in agreement before saying goodbye to him. Joel claps a hand on Ethan’s shoulder as he moves past him, and Alex gives him a shy smile in acknowledgement.

Focusing back on the crowd, Joel realizes that you’ve vanished in the short span of his last interaction. Maybe you’d rejected that guy, and then he’d retaliated. Maybe you’d gone home with Eugene. Joel shakes his hand. It’s none of his business. He doesn’t need to get involved. It’s not his job to look after you, regardless of how much better he feels when he does. Old instincts. He can’t help himself.

He settles on watching Ellie and Dina spin each other around on the dance floor. Eventually, Tommy and Maria, then Ethan and Alex all trickle out of the booth to go get another round or head to dance. Joel stands to release the booth to someone who actually needs it – and is left in the corner, nursing a nearly empty beer that’s now flat and warm. He looks towards his family and friends, but for some reason, he still feels alone.

Joel isn’t sure how long he stands sulking, but he starts when someone approaches from behind.

“Having fun?”

You’re a pace or two back, one thumb hooked through a belt loop, a whiskey in your opposite hand. Joel looks back at the crowd a moment, then at the ground. “No.”

“Neither am I,” you commiserate, stepping alongside him.

Joel considers offering that Ethan was looking for you, but selfishly does not want to give you a reason to leave, so he stays quiet. You observe the dance floor like he is, smiling slightly at the sight of Ethan and Alex dancing. The flannel you’re wearing over a gray tank hangs loosely off one shoulder, and Joel wants to reach out and touch the exposed skin. You take your last sip of whiskey, bring a finger to swipe under your bottom lip, and Joel wishes he knew what you might taste like right now. He scolds himself for fantasizing.

You don’t speak either, and you stand in silence for a while, until you eventually pop your hip, shifting closer to him. Maybe you don’t realize it, but you’re already standing so close that your arm gets pressed up against his. Neither of you acknowledge the contact, but Joel is acutely aware of how your skin burns hot against his own. He feels comforted by the affection, even if it’s unintentional.

“Want to leave?” Joel asks, and can hardly believe that the words came out of his mouth, even if he wanted them to.

You look over at him, not bothering to hide your surprise, but your expression evens out quickly, and you give him a single nod. “Yeah.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel’s still not convinced this is real. It feels too much like a dream, the weather outside is so pleasantly warm it feels like he’s floating as you walk down the street. He had never expected you to agree to leave with him, and now he doesn’t know what to do, or what to say.

The greater distance you put between yourselves and the bar, the quieter the town is. Most of Jackson’s residents are at the dance, save for the guards at the front gate and the handful of people that had been mingling just outside.

He heads in the general direction of the neighborhood, even though he lives on a different street.

“What are we supposed to do now?” you wonder out loud, and you sound a little incredulous, like you’re equally as shocked to find yourself beside him. The question carries a bit more weight than it would have coming from anyone else.

Joel contemplates. He’s not sure what he wants from you – there are a lot of things, actually – but he doesn’t know if he really deserves any of them. For now, your companionship is more than enough.

“You’re welcome to come back to mine,” he offers. “But if you’re looking to keep drinking, all the booze is back at the bar.”

“I’m good.” You shake your head like you’re uninterested, but look over at him with a sparkle in your eye. “I have something better….”

You reach into the pocket of your flannel and produce a rolled joint between two fingers, looking over your shoulder. “Those dances are usually terrible, so I always come prepared.”

Joel can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, and the sheepish grin he gets in return makes his cheeks feel warm. “Where’d you even get that?”

“You’ve never been on patrol with Eugene, have you?” you ask. “He has a place just out of town where he grows it. I’ve been helping him since we first got paired up, and in exchange, I get to sample the supply.”

Of course. Joel would’ve never imagined that was the reason you were so close with Eugene, but it suddenly makes incredible sense. He shakes his head in a combination of relief and amusement. “You really haven’t changed.”

“Oh, I’m sure I have,” you answer, smiling to yourself and looking at the ground. “But of course I haven’t shaken all my bad habits.”

“That’s not true,” Joel mutters.

“Well, you haven’t changed either, for as much as you’ve tried to convince me,” you nudge him gently, offering him the joint. “What do you think?”

Joel plucks it from between your fingers and puts it between his lips. “I think I have a lighter at home.”

“Sounds perfect.”

In the front hallway of his house, you slip out of your tennis shoes, shuffling behind him in your socks, pausing occasionally to study some of the doodles that Ellie had drawn and hung on the walls – it wasn’t exactly a priority to decorate these days, but they certainly livened up the place. He knows how much Ellie likes you, despite the fact that she doesn’t gush, but the odd comment here and there says as much. Joel remembers how difficult it had been to keep Sarah away, and Ellie now is no different. He doesn’t seem to be able to help himself, either.

You sit next to Joel on his wicker couch, curling your feet up under you as he lights the joint and study him while he takes the first few puffs. He does it without thinking. That’s how soft Jackson has made him. Normally, he’d be too stressed about being out of his wits. But he can’t see how hypervigilance has served him since settling down. He feels safe here, and somehow especially because he’s with you.

When he passes the joint your way, you look at him wistfully. “Old times,” you say with a grin.

Joel nods as he exhales, coughing. “Old times.”

“Oh yeah,” you say, as if you just remembered something. “You can’t tell Ethan about this. He doesn’t know, and he will give me shit about it. I need him to take me seriously.”

Joel shakes his head. “Well, you know, it sounds like he and Tommy both think you and Eugene are together.”

“What?” your head jerks forward in shock, eyes going wide. “Oh my god, no. Do people think that?”

“I’m just sayin’,” Joel wants to mention how he had seen you whispering to each other at the bar earlier, but then realizes it’d give a bit too much away. “That’s what they think.”

“Well....historically speaking I might’ve liked older men…. but not that old.”

Joel purses his lips. “You’ve lived here awhile, huh?” When you nod, he continues. “Has no one caught your eye?”

“Uhm….not really. But….” you trail off, looking into Joel’s backyard. “To be completely honest, I don't think about that much these days. I guess I feel like I have a lot to be grateful for. I don’t want to push it.”

Joel understands, and nods pensively.

“What about you?” you ask.

“I guess I feel the same.”

That causes you to smile a little bit, look over at him. “I bet you already know this. But the women here would line up down the block for you.”

Joel can’t help but roll his eyes, though he wonders if you would, too. Even if you did like him, that didn’t seem like your style.

“I’m serious. I’ve heard the things they whisper behind your back. All their fantasies about you are pretty creative...”

“Fantasies?” He grimaces. He imagines none of them know anything about who he really is. You’re the closest thing, and all he’s done is hurt you. “I’m sure you were quick to set them straight.”

“I don’t say anything,” you say, then continue on, a little quieter, looking at him from under your lashes. “I like to keep you to myself.”

Joel isn’t sure how to respond to that. You have every right to tell all of them that you were once together, and all the ways he’s hurt you since. Yet for some reason, you’ve chosen to protect him.

“So….all this time….” you wonder. “You had to have been with other people, right?”

Joel doesn’t think to hold back. “I had a partner for a long time. Tess. First, it was all business, I helped her smuggle things in and out of the Boston QZ…and then, I don’t know….we got along, we trusted each other and…” Joel trails off, hoping you’d put together the rest before he has to go into too much detail. “She was real fuckin’ tough. Scared me a little at first. You would’ve liked her.”

“Well, we already have one thing in common. What happened?”

“She’s the whole reason I ended up out here….with Ellie,” Joel explains. “But I lost her a little over a year ago.”

He hopes you don’t ask how. Maybe someday he’d be willing to go into detail, but talking about it generally is hard enough as it is. But fortunately, you seem to pick up on his hesitance. “I’m sorry, Joel,” you say softly.

He shakes his head. “I was an asshole. To her. I should've....after Sarah died I didn’t want to get attached, so I kept her at arms length and I... I wished I hadn’t in the end. It only made things worse.”

“Yeah,” you nod, look down. “I’ve made that mistake before.”

Joel doesn’t want to linger any longer on the memory. “What about you? Were you with anyone?”

“Uhm, yeah,” you fidget, looking uncomfortable. “I had a partner….for like ten years."

Ten years? He had been with Tess for more, but something about that information feels jarring. He��s shocked Tommy never told him this. Did Tommy even know? Suddenly, it dawns on Joel everything that could’ve happened to you since you’ve been apart. Entire lifetimes. And he’d said such horrible things when you’d fought. He remembers your face when he’d told you that you didn’t know what it was like to lose a child. Maybe you had. He’d been so cruel and inconsiderate just because he was uncomfortable.

His throat feels tight, almost scared to learn anymore. “What…what was his name?”

“Well, Bea….was her name.”

Joel is sure he doesn't hide the shock well. “Sorry, I didn’t know…”

“Yeah,” you say. “I don’t think I did either. Well, I sort of did, but I was too young I think when I first realized to make any sense of it, but…. I met her and…yeah,” then, you smirk. “I mean, I went to an all-girls school and I had a really bad relationship with my dad so…it definitely makes sense. ”

Joel considers this, smiles along with you. “But anyways. Her and I met shortly after my brother died and it was kind of the same. We kept each other alive, things developed from there. We ended up getting involved with this group who lived in the middle of nowhere. That’s a whole other story, but…” you wave your hand. “I loved her, and I lost her right before Ethan and I got here.”

Joel sees all the pain in your eyes, and wishes he could say something to take it all away. He knows he can’t. You look back out into the woods in his backyard, take a deep breath, and reach back towards the joint that you had put out not long before, lighting it again. Joel gets the sense that both of you had done the most amount of sharing possible for the time being.

“Look at us,” you take another drag before passing it over. “Old times.”

“Old times,” he repeats, a smile working its way onto his face.

“This used to be my favorite thing to do with you.”

“It was nice,” Joel agrees….hesitates before continuing. “But I can think of some things I liked better.” He gives you a knowing look, and you roll your eyes, laughing easily at his joke. It feels so good to make you laugh, to see you smile. Why had he spent so much time resisting?

“Touche.”

What happens next spills out of Joel so quickly he doesn’t think to stop it. “I tried to look for you….after all this happened. I didn’t have Sarah anymore, and I thought maybe….I don’t know. It was the only thing that kept me going for a while.”

“I did too,” you confess. “But…I was with Vincent and Ethan, and I felt like I couldn’t leave them alone for something that might just be…. I always hoped you both made it. And I’m so sorry she’s gone. I really did love her.”

“I know you did,” Joel reaches out to take your hand. “I know. And I shouldn’t have said those things I did. I’m still not sure why you’ve been so patient with me.”

“Hmm,” you shift so that you’re closer to him. “You waited around for me back then. It’s only fair that I’d wait around for you now. I want you in my life. I don’t care what that looks like. But it’s too hard to forget about a person that you loved.”

Joel wants as much from you as you’re willing to give, and he can’t tear his gaze away from you. But he wants you to see him, all of him, before he takes it.

“I’ve let a lot of people down. I’ve done a lot of h-horrible things,” his voice cracks, and tears well in his eyes.

“I have, too, you know? Those things still live with me. But I think what matters is who we are now,” you reach out, fingertips brushing the scar on his temple, and Joel swears that even if you don’t know the story behind it, you can see right through him. “And I know who you are.”

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have.”

“You won’t,” you say. “No more than anyone else has. And if it makes you feel better…when people hurt me, I’ve gotten pretty good at hurting them back.”

“If I do, I’d hope you would.”

“I will. I promise,” your thumb strokes his cheek, marveling at him. “I would suggest a blood oath or something but….I heard we kind of already did that…”

He’s given you every warning, every barrier, and you’re still here. He can’t believe it, and he doesn’t think he can hold back any longer. “Come here.”

He kisses you. He wishes that he could be slow and tender and gentle like he used to be – and certainly he’s still capable, but he realizes that he’s been depriving himself of something he wanted for so long, and can’t seem to control himself.

Your hands land on the side of his face, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Maybe you’re somewhat taken aback by his urgency, you hum against his lips, but you don’t resist at all. Joel maneuvers you so you’re straddling his thighs, and he grips your hips, your ass, coasts his hands up your side. Your lips part in a moan, and he slips his tongue into your mouth.

For a while, he stays there, savors the taste of you, whiskey and smoke still lingering on your lips. His hands cup your jaw, feel your body, grip and squeeze and stroke and you let him, continue to let him. He tries everything, wondering if you’ll tell him to stop, if you’ll decide you’ve had too much, but you don’t. Then again, he should know by now that you’re a woman who knows what she wants. He just finds it’s hard to believe that he’s the thing you want.

You break away from him, just a little, and Joel presses his nose to your neck, kisses your pulse point.

“Should we go upstairs?” your voice is raspy and breathless. “Will Ellie be home soon?”

“Probably not for a while. We can be quick.”

“Hopefully not too quick,” you raise your eyebrows. Joel can’t help but laugh a little. He relishes in the way your hands rake up and down his arms, exploring him, touching him. Of course he wants you, but even just this would be enough. He’d be content with less, he hadn’t realized how starved of affection he’d been.

You’re able to pry yourselves off one another to make it up the stairs, and Joel guides you with a hand to the small of your back. When you get to his bedroom, he opens the door, but stops you before you go inside.

“Hold on,” Joel mutters, winding one arm around your waist, the other behind your knee.

“Joel, what-no, you’ll–” he pulls you into his arms.

“Do you really think I’m not strong enough?”

“I didn’t say that,” you chuckle as he carries you over the threshold and into the bedroom, breath puffing against him before he lays you down on the bed.

When he hovers over you, your fingers wind into his hair, nails raking against his scalp. He savors every sweet sigh he’s able to pull from you, hands cupping your breasts and squeezing your hips. You’re so pliant and open beneath his body, it makes it easier to not feel guilty about what he’s doing. He knows he shouldn’t feel guilty, you’ve said as much, but it might take some time before the feeling will die completely. Hopefully, he has enough time with you to see it off completely.

Clothes are removed quickly, intentionally, as you both bare more and more of yourself to each other. And while he wishes he could’ve been there to see the ways in which your body has changed, you’re still as beautiful as ever.

Joel, however, is hesitant to give himself away completely. When you tug at the hem of his shirt, he hesitates.

“I don’t know if-” he pauses. “If you want to see all that.”

“Joel,” you stare at him knowingly, kneeling across from him as he stands at the edge of the bed. “I do.”

So he releases your hand, and lets you pull it over his head. Carefully, you study him, his body littered with scars. He knows he’s not as in shape as you remember. These days, he hardly can look at himself in the mirror after a shower. He expects you to be disgusted, or at least see it flit across your face before you compose yourself, but you don’t. Your fingertips drag through the smattering of hair on his chest and down his torso, tracing several prominent scars – each one with a story – but you linger on the one at his abdomen, frowning.

He sees the question on your face, but you don’t ask it. Instead, you return to press yourself against him. “I’m so glad you’re still here….”

You kiss him, then, and Joel can only kiss you back.

Joel isn’t the only one with battle scars. Some of them he feels are his fault, but you seem less self-concious about them, which gives him a surprising amount of confidence. Maybe it’s just a reality of what happens when you make it this long.

When you’re finally bare beneath him, he admires how you look, stretched out and waiting, chest heaving and shivering with anticipation. He slides his hand between your legs – feels you already wet and warm, sinking two fingers inside. Your walls flutter around the intrusion, back arcing off the bed when you sigh out his name. Joel.

He’d forgotten how nice it felt to hear that.

Joel is already thinking about what he’d like to do to you next time. He’d be more careful, more patient. He’d bury his face between your thighs to see if you tasted as good as he remembers, he’d let your fingers curl into his hair. But right now you both seem desperate for the same thing.

He pumps his cock a few times with his hand, he can’t remember the last time he’d been this hard – the last time he’s wanted anyone this badly. Even with Tess, it had always felt like the both of them were hurrying to scratch an itch, her eyes would wander like she was thinking of other people, and maybe he was, too.

Joel lines himself up with your slick cunt, teases you a little, and you roll your body down to meet him, gasping when his blunt head slides in – just a little.

He can’t hold back. You practically suck him in, so tight and hot around him he finds it immediately overwhelming, but he doesn’t even think to pull out. Only when he’s fully seated inside you, and given you a chance to adjust, does he start to move.

It’s euphoric. You’re both older now, more mature, but he still remembers all the things you liked, even if it takes a moment for him to find the spot inside you that makes you cry out, legs wrapping around his hips.

Unlike before, you don’t bother trying to hide from him. You kiss him, hold him, touch him, look him in the eyes, tell him how good he feels – you don’t hold back. Joel relishes every word you say, clings to the praise and gives it back. Your lashes flutter when he tells you how pretty you look.

He can think of nothing else other than bringing you pleasure, can tell you’re getting close when you begin to rut against him, and he reaches down to let the pads of his fingers slide over your clit.

When you come, you whine his name, lock your lips with his own and he swallows your moans. The feeling of you so impossibly tight and wet and pulsing and squeezing him so tightly has him following closely after.

His head is still buried in the crook of your neck when you speak again. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

The second Joel pulls out, he starts missing how close he felt to you. But you fix that by rolling over onto your stomach, curling up at his side, head on his chest, and arm across his stomach.

“Joel. Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

He’s far from it. But he’s starting to think if you say it enough, maybe he’ll start to believe it. He turns his head to kiss you gently, slowly. “So are you.”

“We can do this again, right?” you ask.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, we can.”

“Good,” you settle back against him, and very slowly, he dozes off with you right beside him. He doesn’t want to sleep alone again, and luckily, he doesn’t have to.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-December 4th, 2026-

When you return home from patrol, you find Joel in his living room – boots off and socked feet propped on the arm of the couch. You don’t notice his eyes are closed, that he’s asleep, until you get closer, see the book he’d been reading resting on his chest as he snores lightly. You can’t help but feel for him – he’s probably exhausted from constant patrols, so he must be tired.

But mostly, you’re just overwhelmed by the love you feel for him, catching him in a quiet moment of vulnerability. Hesitantly, you reach out and squeeze his foot. It’s gentle and tender enough that he blinks his eyes open and looks around, taking in his surroundings, rather than jolting awake like he often does. When he sees you on the opposite end of the couch, he melts back into the pillow he’s propped against.

“Hey, stud,” you lean against the arm of the couch.

“Hey,” Joel answers, voice still gruff with sleep. “How long was I out?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I just got in.”

“Hmm,” Joel closes his eyes again, folds his hands across his stomach.

“You’re wearing the glasses I got you,” you point out. They’re simple. Rectangular black frames. You’d found them on patrol, and brought them home after Joel had been complaining that he could barely see when he read before bed. But he’d tried them on and insisted he hated the way they looked, so you’d ended up using them most of the time.

“They do work,” he grumbles, like he’s ashamed to admit it. “But I still think they look stupid.”

“You look like a sexy librarian,” Joel rolls his eyes, but you can tell he’s suppressing a grin. There’s always a bit of defiance about him, he can’t fully admit how you get him so flustered even after you’ve spent so much time together. You press your thumb into the arch of his foot and he groans. “That feel good?” you ask.

“Yes.”

“Whatcha reading?” You gesture towards the book.

“Some book about the moon landing,” Joel lifts it off of his chest, where it lay face down and open, looks at the back cover. “For Ellie.”

“How sweet.”

“It’s a little dry,” he deadpans. “But she likes this stuff.”

You shift your massage to his other foot. Joel stretches, his arms lifting above his head, the shirt he’s wearing rides up just so, so you see a sliver of his lower belly before it disappears again, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Are you tired?” you ask.

“Always,” he says through a yawn.

“Me too,” you yawn along with him, since they’re contagious. He pulls the glasses from their perch on the bridge of his nose and shuts the book, placing them both on the coffee table in front of him. You take your hands off his feet and he sits up a little straighter, holding out his hand.

“Come ‘ere,” he says, and you do.

He grunts as you settle into his arms, head nestled against his chest, sprawling out almost on top of him, the only way you both can fit like this on the couch.

“You’re so warm,” you say softly, letting him wrap his arms around you.

“You’re cold. Your hands are freezing,” he holds them in his own.

“It’s cold out.”

“Don’t know why you left today.”

“Obligations. Patrol.”

“Fuck that.”

You laugh into his chest, pausing for a moment before speaking again. “You know, I think we might be boring.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, we don’t really leave the house. We spend all day reading. And we’re old.”

“We’re not that old.”

“But we’re getting up there.”

“Sure, but…” Joel trails off.

“Everything’s so quiet, so calm.”

“I think that’s what most people would describe as content.”

“Are you content?” you ask, lifting your head to look him in the eyes.

“I’m happy,” he says softly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ears. “Are you?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Then don’t worry about the rest.”

“Okay,” you settle back against your husband's chest, feel his lips brush your forehead.

His fingers search absentmindedly for the ring on your finger he’d found while clearing out a pawn shop not too long ago. The one he wore looked nothing like your own. But the marriage had been long overdue, and neither of you cared what the rings actually looked like.

Nowadays, you split your time between his place with Ellie, and your own with Ethan, but end up in his bed every night. At this point, you don’t think you could sleep without him.

Years ago, another lifetime, you’d had a conversation underneath a sky full of stars. You’d told him that for you, good things had never lasted. Joel had made a promise.

This will.

It took time. There was a lot of pain. But in the end, he had told you the truth.

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fizzlo-and-the-cubes · 3 months

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alr to help with the Great QSMP Content Drought of 2024 im gonna empty all the death family headcanons in my brain onto this tumblr dot com post

all these are cubitos unless stated otherwise btw i just didnt want to go through and indicate every name lmao

(also to my qpr deathduo homies (luv yas) I'm a bit of a romantic pissa truther so be warned about that)(but i also suck at writing romance so it's pretty subtle also most of these are about chayanne)

remember last year when Chayanne was almost always asleep because the admin was too busy? i think that his ties to death pulled his conscious into Kristin's domain whenever he slept, so he just spent his time chilling over there (i simply choose to ignore the fact that she isn't canon)

Tallulah can clearly see and hear spirits, all her brother can see are blurry figures and the occasional whisper

Chay's wings started growing feathers very early on, Phil had to pretend he had no idea where they came from whilst also assuring a heavily sobbing Missa that he didn't cheat on him

no one has known fear like a fed worker that tried to touch Chayanne's wings in the early days and almost lost their hands to a newly-grounded crow

unrelated to that Philza Minecraft puts the 'death' in 'death-glare'

Chayanne's first attempts of jumping off the wall on day one were baby-crow instincts but after that he was just doing it for his dads' reactions

Chayanne knows the blade, but he knows strategy far better - both draw blood in the end, regardless

Juanaflippa was the best at swimming, then Leonarda, then Chayanne

when they learn to fly, Chayanne is the best, then Tallulah, then Pomme

Leonarda wonders why bother flying when she has a cloud to do it for her

Chayanne wants to fly just as much as Tallulah, but she's more vocal about it since her brain is experiencing crow instincts for the first time

Phil taught Pomme how to aim

Phil has dreamed about his kids in his hardcore world more than once

Richarlyson was the one who cut Tallulah's hair short (THANK GOD HE DIDN'T LEARN FROM MIKE)

Tallulah often put flowers in her hair when it was longer, so she sneaks some into everyone else's now that its short

Chayanne can summon his mask over his face (like the Visoreds from Bleach. this is because i like Bleach and will put as many references as i want)

Phil acts more short-tempered than before, and the roses have started to wilt

upon arriving on a reset island, Phil finds Missa hanging off of a rose branch

i hc Missa's face to be similar to bad's since they're both reapers (so a black void with two white eyes and nothing else) but instead of horns Missa has flowy, almost mist-like hair that fades to cyan at the ends

Phil saw it for the first time at the prison when Missa's mask and hood slipped off in his sleep (entirely Chayanne's fault) and was completely normal about it end definitely went back to sleep and didn't stay up staring between Missa's hair and the ceiling.

upon stealing a kiss from Missa, Quackity had to sit down for a few minutes because he couldn't comprehend the texture of Missa's face

Phil was fine tho. he's kissed death plenty of times

#qsmp #pissa #just a tad #qsmp philza #qsmp chayanne #qsmp tallulah #qsmp missa #qsmp death family #can you tell i like the bird instincts bird man #can you tell why my favourite egg is

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wwinterwitch · 4 months

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rational, irrational — coriolanus snow

summary: the newest peacekeeper in your district can't seem to stay away from you, but you're just having casual fun together...right? pairing: peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x district!fem reader word count: 6.5k tags: smut and fluff, there's plot here, corio being corio, he's all over you the man's desperate, briefly suggestive in public (no one sees tho), specifics about reader (plays guitar, has a mom and dad, wears a dress, is carried by corio and is shorter), i wrote it thinking reader is 20 and he's 21 btw, dry humping, everything's rough and passionate, clothed f/naked m, marking and biting, unprotected p in v, pet names (princess, baby, my beautiful girl), he moans a lot (and whimpers!), reader is an overthinking queen, love confession (mutual)

happy new year my loves, i wish you the happiest 2024!! i'm so so proud of this fic, i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it.

reblog or comment if you enjoy please!

all masterlists | thg masterlist | read on ao3

Coriolanus Snow is a very patient guy. So patient, that he sits quietly by one of the corners of that filthy-looking place while you have a good time. He's not really fond of spending time with the people in District Twelve– why would he? Everything about this place makes him nauseous, and he's pretty sure he would've found a way to get back to the Capitol already if it wasn't for you.

You, with your stupid smile and your stupid eyes and your stupid charm that managed to captivate him enough to actually make him want to be here. He may not be a fan of the people from your District, and he might not even be that interested in music at all, but he’s definitely a fan of seeing you enjoy yourself. He’s willing to sit throughout the entire performance because he knows you’re really passionate about your music, and how much you like it when he’s in the crowd to watch you.

The only thing that makes the experience tolerable is getting to see you play your guitar and twirl around in your pretty dress to the sound of the music. Hell, he even thought he was ascending to heaven every time you'd turn to look in his direction, noticing the way your smile would widen when you eventually lock eyes with him.

As soon as you got off the tiny stage, he made his way towards you with the clear intention of getting out of there to finally be alone with you. Before he can even say anything, you notice him approaching and immediately hand your guitar to one of your friends before you practically trot towards him.

There’s a big smile on your face when you’re standing in front of him, immediately pulling him in for a hug as a way of saying hi. He was busy before the show, unfortunately, so you didn’t have the chance to talk to him until now.

“You were incredible up there,” he congratulates you, leaving a quick kiss on the top of your head, his arms keeping you close to him.

Blushing lightly, you rest your head on his chest, allowing the hug to last longer than you initially anticipated before finally taking a step back from him. “Thank you.”

“Sorry I showed up a little late today.” He looks genuinely apologetic, even when you’ve told him countless times he shouldn’t feel pressured to be here every time you’re going to perform. “I wanted to bring you flowers, too, but I didn’t have time.”

You immediately shake your head when you hear him start apologizing. “It’s okay, Coriolanus. You don’t have to explain yourself, really,” you insist like always, because it really isn’t necessary. It’s not like he’s your boyfriend, and even if he were, you wouldn’t want him to feel obligated to do anything for you.

He smiles down at you, silently appreciating the fact that you understand his early absence. Leaning closer again, he puts a hand on the small of your back. “Should we go now?”

The question makes you giggle. He's been like this since the first time the two of you started seeing each other. He's always wanting to spend time with you alone, away from your friends and other people he, again, doesn't care about at all. He's not here in Twelve to make friends, after all.

But even when you’ve always enjoyed his eagerness to get some alone time with you, you promised your friends to hangout with them after the show. "Let me have one drink with my friends and we'll be on our way,” you quickly reply. The look on his face was more than enough to let you know he was not happy about that plan, which makes you take a step closer to him to place a quick kiss on his cheek. "One drink. I promise."

You start walking away before he has time to come up with something to argue back, so he has no other choice but to wait even longer. He kept a serious expression on his face, barely making any attempts to join in on the conversation your friend group was having, even when everyone tried their best to include him in it. He clearly hated the idea of still having to share you with other people.

As much as your friends have expressed their concerns about his behavior, you can't help but enjoy the fact that he seems to be so incredibly obsessed with you. Yes, it's maybe a little too much sometimes, but you actually like it.

You like that he's always touching your body in any possible way, whether it's holding your hand, rounding your waist, or putting a hand at the small of your back. You also like that he's always keeping a watchful eye on you. It's like you're his most prized possession; he just can't risk losing you, so he's always following you around, making sure everyone treats you right and with respect. Whoever dares to mess with what's his would regret it for the rest of their life.

From the moment he laid eyes on you, he just had this need to have you. To know you, to keep you close, to gain your attention. Already used to getting what he wants, he knew it was a matter of time before he managed to do just that. It didn't take long before you were accepting to spend more and more time with him, and from that moment forward he's been glued to your side.

It's still a mystery to you what he, a guy surrounded by privileges and luxuries from the Capitol, is even seeing in you, a nobody from the most disgraceful District. Still, you were surprised by how incredibly attentive he is with you.

Even when he knows he could get in serious trouble, he always manages to sneak away from his duties as a Peacekeeper to spend time with you. He has never ever missed one of your shows. Tigris is always asking about ‘the mystery girl he has a crush on, that she just can’t wait to meet one day’ whenever the two of them manage to talk.

Even your family has questioned you about what the hell you're up to every time you come back home holding a bouquet of azaleas. He used to give you roses, until he learned you actually prefer azaleas– not any azaleas, no, because you like the purple ones over any other of the colors so he's always getting you purple azaleas.

However, no matter how good he treats you or how seemingly obsessed he is, you always remind yourself not to think too much of it, knowing better than to get your hopes up regarding someone like Coriolanus Snow.

Because you have to be realistic here. You’ll always be in District Twelve, but he’ll eventually go back to the Capitol. Neither of you have really wanted to talk about what would happen then, choosing to enjoy the time you get to have together instead, but that doesn’t mean you don’t think about it more and more everyday.

He could promise you many things. That he’ll keep in touch with you, that he’ll find a way to visit, that he’ll never let the distance be an issue. But that’s just stupid. With such a lavish life, surrounded by privileges and important people, it’s only a matter of time before he forgets you even existed.

But it’s okay if he forgets. You’ve come to terms with that ending by now, because it’s part of what you knew you’d have to live with if you decided to get involved with him.

So, even when it’s difficult, you try to remind yourself not to look forward to a future with him because people like you and people like him simply cannot have a future together. The only thing you do allow yourself to think about is that, at least for the time being, he seems to be interested in you and he's ridiculously attractive, so why not having fun while you can?

So Coriolanus waited and waited, until you were putting away your guitar and finishing your third drink –definitely not one, he noticed– to head out the little pub with him. In a matter of seconds, his hand is resting once again on your lower back as he guides you outside, making sure to move people out of the way for you.

He offered to carry your guitar case before grabbing your hand and starting to head towards the forest. Like many times before, the two of you had to sneak around in dark alleys and deserted streets to avoid being seen. No one should be going into the forest at night, especially if we’re talking about a young girl with a Peacekeeper all by themselves.

"Stop it!" you warn him in a playful whisper when he's grabbing your hips yet again, cornering you against a brick wall in a poorly-lit street. Still, you show barely any resistance or actual annoyance as you wrap an arm around his neck. "We'll get caught."

"So?" he asks with a mischievous grin, leaning closer to you. "If that happens, I'll just make something up." Shrugging, he brushes your worries off as he presses his body to yours, pushing you against the wall. "You really made me wait back there, you know?" he adds in a lower voice, his face impossibly closer, your nose brushing with his. "How do you expect me to behave now when I've been waiting all night to be alone with you?"

That last comment makes you look up at him in a way that encourages him to squeeze your body against the wall even more, making you gasp a little.

Your body is always testing him. He's almost convinced that you know the power you hold over him and completely take it to your advantage. This is definitely one of those times, because you've decided to wear that dress he loves so much on you and you just keep looking up at him with that doe-eyed look that's making it really difficult to keep himself under control.

He settles for a kiss for now, pressing his lips to yours in a way that perfectly shows how much he's needing you. He holds your face with one hand, his tongue immediately moving past your lips and inside your mouth to deepen the kiss. Your legs almost tremble when he captures your lower lip between his teeth before pulling back entirely, a small smirk adorning his lips when he locks eyes with you again because he knows he's not the only one that's forgetting you're in the middle of a street.

Yes, he's down bad, but he's also aware of the effect he has on you and he loves watching it reflected on your face.

He lets out a low chuckle when you eventually push him away from you, deciding to continue the walk to the forest, grabbing your hand again to guide you through the narrow streets and making sure to keep an eye out to avoid getting caught.

"What did you tell your parents this time?" he asks, the playful tone in his voice evident. You didn't need to see his face to know he was grinning.

"Sleepover," you simply say, blushing.

"Again?"

The little chuckle that escapes his lips makes you blush even more, lightly hitting his arm with your available hand. "Would you prefer I tell them I'm sneaking into the forest with you?"

There's a brief silence, and for a second you thought that was it regarding that conversation, until you hear him speak again. "Do you think they'd like me?"

You're not entirely sure where that question is coming from. At first you thought it was just another little comment to tease you, but when you look up at him you notice the expression on his face. He genuinely seems serious about it, and he briefly looks down at you before looking ahead, seemingly intrigued by your answer.

Would your parents like him? Perhaps your mom will be thrilled that you found someone because you've rarely ever talked to her about anyone potentially capturing your interest in a romantic way. Even if you reveal that he’s a guy from the Capitol. You can already picture her bombarding Corio with compliments, and the thought of them meeting actually makes you visibly smile.

But your dad might be a completely different story. He's always talking about how much he hates the Capitol, after all. And the fact that he almost got in trouble with the Peacekeepers recently might be another strong indicator that perhaps he'll have his reservations about someone like him dating you.

But he's not being serious about this, you tell yourself. This is his way of teasing you, of course.

Still, the look on his face stops you from being entirely playful about your answer, because despite your brain trying to remind you to be realistic about the nature of your relationship, part of you fears he really wants to know what you have to say.

"I don't know," you eventually reply, voice a lot lower than you expected. "Perhaps your charm can persuade them too."

You notice him smile after your last comment, but you don't know if that answer was enough for him. Maybe it wasn't. "I'm sure I can find a way to win them over," he replies as confident as ever. Again, you're not sure if he's just joking or not. Thankfully, he doesn't say anything else about it and you decide to stay quiet too.

Already in the forest, it was practically impossible to get his hands away from your body. You had to walk with his arms around you, his lips occasionally pressing against your temple, neck or the side of your face. If you managed to slip from his grip even for the shortest of instances, he'd grab your arm and pull you back into his embrace.

It's only fair that he gets to hold you close to him as much as he wants. He has been patient enough for you, after all. He stayed in that bar to watch you have fun with your friends while you barely paid any attention to him. Do you really expect him to keep waiting until you reach that stupid cabin? Not a chance. Not when he's been waiting to be alone with you for hours.

The two of you finally reach the cabin and he only moves away from your body to open the door for you, his eyes hungrily trailing down your body as you walk inside. That goddamn dress looks just so good on you, his hands are practically shaking in anticipation as he closes the door behind him.

You turn around to look at him with a soft smile, watching as he carefully places your guitar case on the floor, leaving it resting against a wall before walking towards you. He's immediately grabbing your face with his hands, pulling you in for a kiss so incredibly desperate that it almost makes your legs tremble.

He's always been like this– passionate, devoted, needy. He kisses you like your mouth is the air he needs in order to stay alive. He takes a few steps backwards until he's once again cornering you against the wall, and the way he presses his body against yours with urgency isn't doing much to help your poor state.

"Corio..." you whisper, surrounded by the darkness of the cabin, seeing his features illuminated by the moonlight coming from one of the windows. He takes his time to look at you– really look at you, marveling at how your eyes are reflecting all the raw emotions he's feeling right now in this very moment with you. The way your body silently expresses your need for him to continue, how your chest rises and falters faster than usual.

But he also focuses on other things. Things you probably don't even know he'll be thinking about when he looks at you like this. Because he also takes a second to admire how unbelievably beautiful you are and the way your body fits so perfectly against his. He even has the time to realize how fast his own heart is beating, that foreign feeling that keeps appearing within him every time he's near you completely overtaking him.

You gasp softly when one of his hands lifts your dress, enough to reach your thigh as he squeezes your flesh with a low groan. "You made me wait all night," he mutters, sounding genuinely upset at this still– offended, even. "I went to see your little concert to be with you, and that's how you pay me? Just ignoring me?"

"I didn't–"

"You did," he insists, and despite the anger and frustration in his voice, you know he's not really directing any of those emotions at you. Or at least not entirely. He's just really desperate to be with you, to feel more of what you have to offer.

There's a brief pause where Coriolanus is taking his chance to move his hand from your thigh to your ass, urging your hips forward to meet his half-way. You let out a soft moan, he smirks devilishly. "I don't think that was very nice of you."

Shortly after that last comment, he's leaning down to press his lips on your neck. Every kiss is sloppy, hurried, desperate, his hand on your ass urgently pushing you forward while he presses his growing bulge against your lower stomach.

The low moans escaping his lips makes you shiver, gripping his biceps while you tilt your head back against the wall to expose more of your neck to him.

His teeth dig into your flesh, making you moan louder. "I'm sorry..." you mutter in a breathless voice, feeling his frustration in the way he's handling your body. "I'm sorry..."

He completely ignores your apologies, much more preoccupied on kissing down your neck towards your collarbone. Your back arches when his lips trail lower, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your cleavage.

The hand on your ass moves to the back of one of your thighs, lifting your leg up until your knee is practically leveling with his hips, aligning your bodies better. The gesture exposes you just enough, creating the perfect angle for him to grind against you properly.

He moves back to watch your reaction as he rocks his hips forward, his clothed erection pressing against the fabric of your underwear in a delicious friction. Your broken moan echoes in the empty cabin, combined with the groan of pure ecstasy that escapes his lips.

"All night," he repeats through gritted teeth. "All fucking night you had me waiting."

You didn't reply. If you tried to say you didn't, he'd argue back. If you tried to apologize, he wouldn't listen. Unlike what many would think, you've genuinely got to know him during his stay in your district. You know it's better to just shut up and let him win, at least sometimes– especially times like this when he's making you feel so good and you don’t really have the strength or mind to insist.

He's probably the most stubborn person you'll ever meet. There's no way of ever making him change his mind about anything. But you like him just like that.

He's kissing your lips again, just as desperate as before, hungrily claiming your mouth. Without moving back from the kiss, he grabs your other leg to fully lift you off the ground. You immediately wrap your legs around his waist, keeping your hands on his shoulders for support while he walks towards the couch that's in front of the empty fireplace with you in his arms.

He gently places your body on top of the couch, making sure you're comfortable as he moves back from you. A soft smirk appears on his lips when his eyes meet yours. With desperate hands and rushed movements, he starts removing the jacket of his Peacekeeper uniform, and you watch in silent appreciation as he removes his clothing on top of you.

First it was the jacket, then it was the plain white t-shirt he was wearing underneath, barely giving you time to admire his torso before he's leaning down to kiss you, continuing the heavy and passionate make out.

You run your hands up and down his back, careful not to be too rough with the way your fingers trace his skin. Even when the injuries on his back have healed completely, you were still fearful of hurting him.

Unlike you, Coriolanus is anything but gentle. One of his hands keeps a strong grip on your hip, pinning you down to the worn-out couch. The other moves up your frame, groping your breasts to his will. Still, despite the roughness of it all, there's an undeniable sense of care in the way he treats you. He holds onto you so tight because he physically can't bring himself to hold you in any other way, and because he knows you like that extra pressure his strong hands provide whenever he touches your body.

He'll never ever keep a strong grip on you like this with the intention of hurting you. It's not meant to hurt, but to show you through his touch how badly he needs to feel your body. How he can't function properly if he's not keeping you close. How he wants to make sure you're actually there with him, making him feel like this, and that you won't disappear into thin air to leave him completely alone. He can't let you disappear. He won't be able to live if you go.

The familiar sound of his belt echoes in the room, and you don't need to pull away from the kiss and look down to know he's urgently trying to get rid of the barrier of clothing separating your bodies.

"Take your panties off," he ordered in a rushed voice, moving back just enough to look at you. The huge amount of urgency hidden behind his captivating blue eyes makes you blush despite yourself, marveling at how he’s able to give you an instruction but still look like he’s pleading for it. "You can keep the dress on, though," he adds not too long after, taking another look down your body appreciatively. "It looks so pretty on you."

You immediately do as told. He gives you just enough space to reach under your dress to slide your panties down your legs while he finishes undoing his belt, starting to unzip his pants now.

It's actually a lot harder to remove your underwear than you initially anticipated, struggling to fully get rid of them at first due to your boots. He quickly notices it, helping to take them off before finally getting rid of your panties.

Waiting not-so-patiently (a thing you might have in common with him, apparently), you watch as Coriolanus focuses back on unzipping his pants, hurriedly sliding them down his legs along with his boxers. You barely catch a glimpse of his rigid cock before he's lifting one of your legs up again, pressing his body against yours and giving you absolutely no time to react as he's filling you up in one swift, hard thrust of his hips.

A shuddering moan of pure relief escapes his lips when he's finally able to feel your heat surrounding him. He holds onto your body for dear life, burying his face in your neck, needing to feel you close to him while he stays balls-deep inside you for a second. Savoring it, cherishing it, thanking whatever it was that put you in his life, trying to remember exactly how it feels to be like this with you just in case you ever decide to keep him waiting again.

Not at all ready for such intrusion, you let out a pathetic little whimper that makes the moment that much enjoyable for him. You hold tightly onto his body as well, your palms pressed to his shoulder blades, brows furrowed in both pleasure and slight discomfort.

"Fucking–" he grunts, breathlessly, feeling like the happiest man on earth right now, "missed this."

He starts to move, slowly sliding his cock out of you before slamming back inside with such force that it makes you whimper out loud once again. Every beautiful sound coming out of your mouth drives him even more insane, encouraging him to do whatever he possibly can to keep them coming.

An almost animalistic groan escapes his lips when he feels you biting onto his shoulder. Your teeth sinking into his skin like that makes him lose the little self-control he had left, the movements of his hips only increasing as they become quicker, rougher. It's practically impossible to think any coherent thoughts or try to speak, completely overwhelmed by the feeling of his cock fucking you relentlessly, aggressively, desperately.

Coriolanus fucks you like his life depends on it. Like he's been deprived of your body for years. Like it's the last time he'll ever get the chance to do it so he's forced to make the most of it. He leaves sloppy kisses all over your neck, drawing a particularly lovely moan when you feel him suck on your skin in a way that'll definitely leave a mark later. You really don't care, he can mark you all he wants.

His hips move rapidly, refusing to give you even the tiniest of seconds to relax. The impact of his skin slapping against yours mixed with the absolutely obscene sounds coming from his cock sliding in and out of your aching little hole are as loud as the sounds coming from your mouths. You whimper desperately, he groans completely consumed by the feeling of sharing this moment with you.

"That's it, princess," he praises you in a low voice. You're being so good for him, gladly taking every inch of him, squeezing him in a way that's making his eyes roll to the back of his head as he forces his hips to move as fast as possible. "You feel incredible...so tight...just perfect for me."

When he moves back from your neck, he could've swore he almost came right there and then just by looking at your face. You look back at him through half-lidded eyes, swollen lips parted while you keep moaning and whimpering for him, skin glistening with sweat, cheeks flushed. The fact that you look so beautifully wrecked thanks to him has got to be one of his biggest accomplishments. He'll probably never get enough of this sight, of you, of your body, of your wet pussy taking him so incredibly good that he's not sure he can keep this up much longer.

And he knows you can't handle much of this either. You don't need to say it out loud for him to know– which is good, because it's not like you can utter a single word right now. He can see it in the way you're struggling to keep your eyes open, hear it in the way your cries come out more and more broken, feel it in the way your walls repeatedly squeeze him tighter and tighter.

His tongue invades your mouth if a passionate kiss, all messy and hot, teeth clashing while you moan into each other's mouths. He kisses you hungrily for a few seconds before pressing his forehead to yours, knowing it's a matter of time before he gets to feel you come around his cock.

"Corio..." you call out his name, barely able to speak. He moves back just enough to look at you.

"I know, baby. I know," he replies in a soft voice, completely contrasting with his rapid thrusts and ragged breathing.

He closes his eyes for a second, so lost in the moment, feeling his entire body on fire and his heart beating like crazy. He sneaks an arm underneath you, lifting your hips just enough and keeping them there, both of you voicing how good that new angle feels with a particularly louder moan.

When he opens his eyes again, noticing the way you're looking up at him, he realizes it. How good this feels because he's sharing it with you. How he'll never be able to share moments like this with anyone that's not you, and even if he dares to try it'll always be second-best now that he got to experience you.And it's not just the sex, but everything. From the pride of making you blush with the tiniest of compliments, to the honor of holding your hand. From the warm and fuzzy feeling inside him every time you kiss him, to the way you seem so interested to hear his stories about his life back in the Capitol. From the absolute gift that is seeing you laugh at one of his jokes (even the bad ones), to the minutes he spends collecting purple azaleas in the forest. He wants none of that if it’s not with you.

Before he can even fully comprehend just how risky it is, he's voicing that one thought that keeps repeating over and over in his head. A thought that's probably been on his mind long before he even allowed himself to acknowledge it. "I love you," he whispers, the confession both heavy and relieving. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

In other circumstances, you would probably be absolutely shocked by that revelation. You'd stand in front of him without knowing what to say, trying to figure out if those words actually came out of his mouth or if you're just going insane. Or maybe you'd act like you did earlier when he asked about your parents, trying to trick your insecure mind and distrustful heart to believe he's not being serious– that what you have isn't serious at all.

But it's different when you're underneath him and he's claiming your body in the most excruciatingly good way, because you're deprived of all your rationality. You can't think, you can't be scared or doubt everything like you tend to do. You're stripped of almost everything, except from your most basic and natural instincts.

So, in a moment like this, it's so easy to admit the inevitable truth you seem to be running away from when you’re actually able to overthink. "I love you," you repeat, and it's so simple. So right.

He’s over the moon when he hears you say that, already wanting to hear it again and again and again because it sounds absolutely heavenly when those three little words come out of your mouth. He didn't know how much he needed to hear them until now.

You manage to distract him, however, when your moans come out more desperately than ever before, feeling the way you clench around him like crazy. "Corio..." you manage to cry out again, the vulnerability and exhaustion in your voice sending shivers down his spine.

It's a mystery to him if you wanted to say something else aside from his name, because as soon as it leaves your mouth you’re moaning louder than ever before, your entire body convulsing with the intensity of the orgasm that overtakes your whole being. Arms and legs wrapped around him, forehead resting on his shoulder, a few tears escaping your eyes due to how much you’re feeling right now.

With him, it always feels amazing, but oh does it feel even better now that you know he loves you.

Your orgasm was all he needed to be driven over the edge, his arm underneath you tightening its grip on you while the other barely provides support to his body so he doesn't crush you under his weight. "Yes, yes…" he moans, his face against your neck, the only things in his mind being the feeling of your orgasm and how badly he wants to fill you up now. "Oh, fuck, baby..." he practically whimpers those words out, completely overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

He finally comes undone, shooting his load deep inside you as a few more whimpers escape his mouth, his peak hitting him harder than ever before. It's almost like the more instances he gets to be like this, giving you exactly what you deserve, making love to you, the better it feels. Makes him come back for more every time, crave you in a way he's never experienced before.

His movements in and out of you slow down considerably, but he refuses to stop just yet. His hips continue to meet yours even after he's fully empty, all of his cum already coating your inner walls, but making sure to fuck every drop into you before he allows himself to fully slide out.

Panting heavily, he moves his head back enough to look at you, admiring your face of pure bliss after he tried his very best to give you everything he had in him to make you feel good. One arm stays wrapped around your body, using his available hand to brush your sweaty hair away from your face. "My beautiful girl," he compliments you in a breathless whisper, looking deeply into your eyes with immense adoration and possessiveness.

He just needed to have you like this. Alone, all to himself, making those cute little sounds that drive him insane, filled with his cum. Yes, he's a very patient person, but he can't control himself when it comes to you. Surely you understand, after what you’ve experienced together tonight and the confession that slipped from his lips, why he needed to get the hell out of that crowded pub. He's completely in love with you, how is he supposed to act like he doesn’t?

You're even more exhausted than him, barely able to keep your eyes open as you give him a soft smile when you hear the way he's complimenting you. He gently holds your face with one of his hands and you lean into his touch almost immediately. Leaning closer, he kisses you once again, a lot more controlled now but still as passionate as ever. Silently appreciating the way you handled the roughness of his movements, thankful that you shared such an intimate and intense moment with him, insanely happy to know you love him as much as he loves you.

He moves away from your lips, only to start kissing all over your face, muttering praises and compliments in between each of them, making you giggle as you gladly accept his affection.

Eventually, he pulls out of you and moves away from your body entirely, giving you enough space to sit up on the couch and look for your discarded panties. As you do that, he starts the process of dressing himself too, putting his boxers and pants back on.

You watch him in silence, playing with your fingers on your lap as you wait for him to join you on the couch again. Your insecurities were getting the best of you once again, and he immediately notices it the second he’s taking a seat next to you.

He looks visibly worried, leaning closer as he grabs one of your hands, searching for your eyes because you seem to be way too lost in your own head to fully be there in that moment with him. “What is it?”

The concern is evident in his voice, making you feel almost guilty for doubting the words that he said to you earlier. How could you doubt him when he looks at you like this?

“It’s nothing, I just…” you start, sighing as you look down at your hands to watch the way he intertwined his fingers with yours, the gesture incredibly reassuring. "Did you mean it?" you ask in a low voice. "What you said earlier?"

"Of course I did." He doesn't hesitate in the slightest. "Did you?"

Surprisingly enough, you don't hesitate either. "Yes."

The way he smiles right after your answer has got to be one of the best sights you've ever seen in your entire life. It encourages you to find enough courage to express your feelings for him once again, wanting to initiate the exchange this time.

You give his hand a gentle squeeze while you look up at him with nothing but adoration in your eyes. "I really, truly, do love you, Coriolanus," you say in the most sincere voice he's ever heard.

"I love you too," he replies, that beautiful smile from before only widening. It's impossible not to smile back at him, and he feels even happier when he notices the way you blush despite the darkness of the night. "More than I thought I could ever love anyone."

He keeps your hand in his, and you notice there's no hesitation in his voice when he decides to test his luck once again. "Come to the Capitol with me," he says, but it's not exactly an order. If anything, it sounds more like a hopeful plea.

Again, you should probably think rationally about this. Leave all your life behind to go to a place that's nothing like what you're used to? To live amongst people that are nothing like you, with a completely different lifestyle? What would the people of the Capitol even think when they know there's someone from the districts (and worse, from Twelve) pretending to be one of them? Is Corio even thinking about any of this?

And what about your friends? Or your family? What if someone needs you and you're not here? Would they understand that you're leaving them here for a guy, even when you try to explain how much you love him? And what would you do when you're at the Capitol? Are you going to study? Or try to actually pursue music? Will you ever be able to come back to District Twelve? What if you miss your home? What if you hate the Capitol?

When you look back into Corio's eyes, suddenly none of those questions matter. You try to be rational, but maybe there's nothing rational about falling in love. Maybe you just need to feel it, and right now you feel incredibly at peace. So seen, so much more like yourself, so ridiculously in love that you're happy knowing absolutely nothing is making sense.

So, you don't hesitate again when you nod. His eyes light up and a bright smile appears on his face, tightening his grip on your hand. “Yeah?” he asks, almost unable to contain his excitement, leaning closer just enough.

A soft giggle escapes your lips, because the idea of leaving everything behind to follow him to the Capitol sounds absolutely insane, but it feels so right. “Yes,” you confirm.

You feel his lips press against yours immediately after. The kiss feels like a silent closure. A way of ending the conversation, sealing the promise you’ve made to have a new life together. A way of saying goodbye to your life here in District Twelve.

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