#and making my space my own and doing what makes *me* happy (even if that includes blocking other piers shippers i'm so sorry fdjshdf)

[lolacelest101]

No Need For Privacy

18+ MDNI

Hii!!! This is my first story or anything like this that I write and publish so I am sure it will be bad. I would love to get your feedback and let me know if I missed anything in the TWs. I am a big fan of F1 and other mainstream spaces so I will try to do more in the future.

Happy Reading!

Word Count: 6131

Themes: Lando!Norris x Fem!American!reader, Embarrassing moment turn spicy, next door neighbor, close proximity

Smutty tings: wall pinning, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, mirror sex, p in v, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex!!!!), spanking, oral sex, slight edging, fingering, gagging, praise and degradation kink.

Your POV

I moved to Monaco a week ago with my two best friends from work, Liana and Aaliyah. It’s been a dream come true for all of us, especially since our company launched a new project in the Monaco branch and requested our expertise.

Settling in has been a breeze, mostly thanks to Alexander Qasemi, the top manager of the Monaco office. He has multiple investments in the area and offered to rent out one of his properties to us at a discount. It’s conveniently close to the office, and his wife, Catalina, has been a lifesaver, helping us get set up, showing us around, and pointing out all the spots we need to check out. Coming from Florida, Monaco feels like a mix of Palm Beach and Miami, but it’s still a world apart from Tampa, where we grew up.

The house has three bedrooms, each with its own view from the second floor. We picked rooms based on the views, but I ended up going for the one with extra closet space—even if it has a “boring” view of the street and a direct line of sight into the house next door. And judging by what I’ve seen, the neighbor isn’t big on privacy; I can see right into what looks like the main bedroom.

I wake up to Liana singing loudly to what sounds like a new song by The Weeknd, her voice filling the house. Squinting as sunlight streams into my room, I reluctantly drag myself up and into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, choosing to ignore my messy bed hair. Liana’s door is open, and she spots me staggering around like a zombie.

“Good morning, sunshine!” she shouts, singing along with the song. All I can think is, It’s way too early for this.

I shuffle back to my room and glance at the clock on my nightstand. It flashes 10:32 AM, and panic hits—I remember that Catalina mentioned she’d be here around 10:45 AM to show us more of the area, and she insisted we make time for it.

I rush back into the hallway, suddenly wide awake. “Liana, why didn’t you wake us up? Catalina’s gonna be here any minute!”

Liana smirks and says, “I did, about 30 minutes ago. Aaliyah’s already up and made coffee. You told me I was ‘handsome and sexy’ and asked for five more minutes.” She’s trying not to laugh, and my face goes red as I realize I was probably having an almost wet dream.

“Well… he sure was, wasn’t he?” I say, trying to brush it off. “But we still need to hurry.”

After a quick change into something suitable for the weather, I throw on some black skinny jeans that hug my curves, a short flowy black-and-white striped top, and sneakers.

“Y/N, come down! Catalina’s here,” Aaliyah calls up the stairs.

I see her car pulling up from my window, so I run down to grab a quick sip of coffee before she knocks on the door. Liana’s sitting on the couch, putting her shoes on, and I lean against the counter, downing my coffee like it’s a race. Aaliyah opens the door, greeting Catalina with hugs and kisses. I set my mug down, go over to greet her, and offer to make her a coffee before we start the tour.

Catalina’s dressed in a floral top and white pants, looking like the definition of “aging like fine wine.” Despite being in her 60s, she doesn’t look a day over 40. She radiates warmth, like a grandmother everyone wishes they had.

Liana goes back to grab her phone, and as Catalina and I step outside, we bump into a man with dark hair and intense eyes. Catalina lights up as soon as she sees him, opening her arms for a hug.

“Oh, Max! I didn’t know you’d be here!” she says, surprised, pulling him in for an embrace.

“It was very last-minute for the Monaco GP,” he replies, hugging her back. When he lets go, he glances at me expectantly.

“Max, this is Y/N,” Catalina says. “She moved here a week ago with her friends.”

Max extends his hand, and I shake it, trying to keep my cool. “Nice to meet you. I guess we’ll be running into each other a lot,” I say, smiling.

Holy shit, Max Fewtrell is staying next door! My mind races, and I make a mental note to change my Quadrant phone case ASAP—I don’t want him thinking I’m some obsessive fan.

Max’s voice snaps me back. “Ah, an American accent! Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

I laugh lightly as Liana and Aaliyah join us. I introduce them, and Max shakes their hands before introducing himself.

“Nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m not exactly your neighbor, but my best friend lives here, so you’ll probably see him more often than me. Oh—there he is now,” he adds, looking over my shoulder.

My heart skips. The only person this could be is Lando Norris, and I’m about to pretend I’m way cooler than I actually am.

I snap back to see Lando Norris, head down, fiddling with his car keys. When he looks up, he immediately spots Catalina, a smile breaking across his face.

“Hey, you! How’ve you been? I already miss having you as my neighbor,” he says, giving her a hug.

She laughs, “I’ve missed you too, but I brought you some new company, so you won’t miss me too much.” Catalina turns to us with a smile. “Lando, these are the new neighbors: Liana, Aaliyah, and Y/N.”

Lando shakes each of our hands. His grip is firm, his fingers slightly calloused, probably from hours on the simulator. When he gets to me, I feel his gaze linger a bit longer, like he’s trying to place me.

“I don’t mean to sound creepy, but… you’re the one sleeping in that room, right?” He nods toward my bedroom window.

Caught off guard, I stammer, “Uh… yeah, that’s mine. Why?”

A faint blush crosses his face, a sly grin forming as he glances back at me. “You might want to, uh… move your mirror. Just saying.”

It takes a second for the realization to hit, but when it does, I’m mortified. I remember putting my large gold mirror directly across from the window and how, last night, after a long day of rearranging, I decided to… “treat” myself, lights on and all.

My mind races back to that memory—me stripping down, lying on my bed, a vibrator in one hand…

I force myself back to the present, trying to salvage what little dignity I have left. “Oh! I didn’t realize anyone was home over there… It looked empty all week.”

Lando chuckles, his grin widening. “Yeah, I just got back last night. And… well, let’s just say I got quite the welcome back.”

The heat rising in my cheeks is unbearable, and I quickly turn to Catalina. “So, Catalina, you mentioned we have a lot of places to see today?”

I feel Lando’s eyes on me, making my skin prickle with heat.

“Yes! Let’s get going.” Catalina waves goodbye to the guys, and we start heading toward her SUV. As I walk away, I can still feel Lando’s gaze burning into me, like he’s savoring every second of my embarrassment.

-------------------

Later That Night

The night air is warm and slightly humid, with a faint breeze blowing in from the sea. We’d just gotten back from the club, laughing and chattering as we climbed out of the cab. Aaliyah and Liana are still buzzing with energy, but I hang back a bit, enjoying the cool air on my flushed skin.

Liana nudges my shoulder. “We’re going inside to get some water. You good out here?”

I nod, waving them off. “Yeah, I just need a moment to cool down. I’ll be right behind you.”

They head inside, leaving me alone in the quiet of the street. I close my eyes, letting the night’s calm settle around me, when I hear footsteps. I look up, and there’s Lando, standing just a few feet away with Max at his side. Max offers a friendly nod before slipping inside, leaving Lando and me alone on the sidewalk.

“Well, look who it is,” Lando drawls, a smirk playing on his lips. “Didn’t expect to see you out here this late.”

I shrug, trying to act nonchalant. “Just needed some air. The club was loud.”

He steps closer, his gaze intense. “So, have you moved that mirror yet?”

I feel my cheeks heat up despite the cool night air. “Why do you keep bringing that up?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, his tone teasing. “Maybe because it’s hard to forget. Didn’t realize you were such an exhibitionist, but hey, I’m not complaining.”

I scoff, rolling my eyes. “I didn’t know anyone was watching. And I’m not an exhibitionist.”

He raises an eyebrow, the smirk never leaving his face. “Could’ve fooled me. You looked pretty comfortable up there, totally absorbed… didn’t even close the blinds.”

The tension between us is thick, the memory of last night making my pulse race. I cross my arms, feeling his gaze linger on me. “Well, you could’ve looked away.”

“Could’ve,” he agrees, stepping even closer until he’s barely a foot away. His voice drops lower, his tone laced with something dark and enticing. “But I didn’t want to.”

A shiver runs through me as his words sink in. We’re standing close enough now that I can feel his warmth, his eyes scanning my face, searching for something. His gaze drops briefly to my lips, and I can feel the air crackling between us, heavy and charged.

I tilt my head, giving him a challenging look. “You get off on watching your neighbors, then?”

His smirk deepens. “Not usually. But you’re not just any neighbor, are you?”

I swallow, feeling my resolve slipping. “And what makes me so special?”

Lando’s hand lifts, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from my face, lingering just a second too long. “Something about you… can’t quite put my finger on it.”

His voice is rougher now, barely above a whisper. Every nerve in my body is on fire, my breath hitching as his gaze drops to my lips again.

“What are you waiting for, then?” I murmur, my voice betraying a hint of a dare.

He chuckles softly, his fingers trailing down my cheek. “You sure you can handle it?”

I lean forward, closing the space between us just enough that I can feel the heat of his breath against my lips. “I think I can manage.”

Lando’s hand moves to my waist, pulling me a fraction closer until there’s barely any space left between us. “Careful, princess. Once we start, I might not stop.”

His words are a warning, but his eyes tell a different story—one that has me aching to close the distance, to see just how far this tension can go.

Just as Lando leans in, his hand firmly on my waist and his eyes locked on mine, the front door swings open, breaking the moment.

“Y/N!” Aaliyah calls out, her voice bright and oblivious. “You coming? We need you to settle a debate on which of us danced better tonight!”

I pull back, startled, and glance over at the girls standing in the doorway. They don’t notice Lando standing in the shadows just out of their line of sight.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll be right in,” I call, trying to keep my voice steady, heart still racing from the almost-kiss.

Lando chuckles softly, his hand slipping from my waist, though his gaze doesn’t leave mine. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leans down, his lips grazing my ear, voice low and teasing. “Guess we’ll have to pick this up some other time, hmm?”

My breath catches, and I turn to give him a playful glare, but he’s already smirking, enjoying every second of my flustered expression. I can barely think straight, still caught up in the heated moment we were just sharing.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he murmurs, his tone laced with a promise that has my heart thudding against my chest. He steps back, giving me one last lingering look before turning toward his house. He pauses, glancing over his shoulder with that signature smirk.

“Don’t let those blinds stay open tonight,” he says, voice dripping with suggestion. “Or do. Your call.”

I feel a blush rising to my cheeks as he disappears into the darkness, leaving me there with my heart pounding and my mind racing.

I turn back toward the house, trying to regain my composure as I walk inside. Aaliyah and Liana are too caught up in their dance debate to notice the flush on my face or the slight tremble in my hands.

But as I head upstairs, all I can think about is Lando’s words, his hand on my waist, the almost-kiss that left me wanting so much more. That smirk, that challenge—it’s all burned into my mind, and I can still feel the heat of his touch lingering on my skin.

I lie in bed, staring at my mirror across from the window, replaying the night in my mind. And, despite my better judgment, I leave the blinds just a little open.

--------------

The Next Morning

I wake up to a quiet house, the morning sun streaming in through my half-open blinds. Liana and Aaliyah left early to grab some groceries, promising to be back soon, but I decided to stay and sleep in. After a while, though, I find myself wide awake and craving something sweet—specifically, chocolate chip cookies.

I slip into some cozy clothes and head downstairs, popping on some music as I pull ingredients from the cupboards. Soon, the smell of warm cookies fills the air, and I feel a little proud of my spontaneous baking session. Figuring it’d be a nice way to break the ice, I plate a few to bring next door later.

Just as I pull out the last tray from the oven, there’s a knock at the door. I wipe my hands on a towel, open it, and, sure enough, there’s Lando, standing there with his signature smirk.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” he says, stepping in before I can even invite him. “Saw the girls head out and figured you’d still be here. Thought you’d sleep all day after last night’s… excitement.”

I feel my cheeks heat instantly, but I roll my eyes, trying to brush it off. “Good morning to you, too. And no, I don’t sleep all day. I’m actually productive.”

He glances at the mixing bowls and cooling cookies. “Productive, huh? Baking cookies for the new neighbors?” He reaches over, snagging one from the plate. “Are these just for me?”

“They’re for the neighbors,” I say, crossing my arms with a smirk. “But you’re welcome to have one.”

He takes a bite, savoring it with an approving nod. “Alright, alright—not bad. Didn’t peg you as a homemaker.”

“I’ve got layers,” I tease, nudging him lightly.

He chuckles, but his gaze drifts around the kitchen, taking in the scattered ingredients and my little baking mess. His eyes eventually settle back on me, a glint of mischief lighting them up.

“So, I gotta ask,” he says, leaning against the counter, “did you actually move that mirror? Or should I go check?”

I feel a flicker of heat under his gaze, but I keep my tone even, hoping he won’t catch on. “Of course I did. You were right—it needed to be moved.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Oh, yeah? Somehow, I don’t quite believe you.”

Before I can stop him, he’s already heading for the stairs, and my heart leaps. “Lando!” I laugh nervously, following after him. “You don’t need to go up there!”

“Need to see for myself,” he says over his shoulder, that smirk still on his face. “If you really moved it, then you shouldn’t mind me checking.”

He starts toward the stairs, and I blink, realizing what he means. “Wait, Lando—”

But he’s already halfway up, glancing back with that mischievous glint in his eye. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t tell me you’re shy now.”

I trail him up the stairs, heart racing. The truth is, I didn’t move the mirror—it’s still in the exact same spot, right across from the bed. And now he’s about to see it.

He steps into my room and glances around, his gaze landing on the mirror across from the bed, right where he left it in his memory. The corner of his mouth lifts, and he lets out a low chuckle, clearly amused.

“You didn’t move it,” he murmurs, his voice low and pleased.

I cross my arms, trying to play it off. “I like it where it is. Why should I change it just because you got an eyeful?”

Lando steps closer, his gaze never wavering from mine, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe I want another one.”

The tension between us thickens, the air electric. He’s close enough now that I can feel his warmth, his gaze dropping to my lips before returning to my eyes. His hand moves up to gently brush a strand of hair from my face, lingering just a moment too long, fingers tracing down my jaw.

“You’re not afraid of a little attention, are you?” he asks, his voice soft, teasing.

I swallow, trying to steady my breathing. “Depends on who’s watching.”

He leans in even closer, his breath warm against my skin. “Then tonight… don’t close those blinds. And don’t move that mirror.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and filled with promise. My heart races, every nerve tingling as I meet his gaze, a challenge sparking between us that’s impossible to ignore.

Lando’s fingers linger on my jaw for just a moment longer, then he pulls back, that smirk still on his lips as he steps away.

“Enjoy your cookies, Y/N,” he says, glancing over his shoulder as he heads back downstairs, leaving me standing there, breathless, the echo of his words replaying in my mind.

As I watch him leave, I can still feel the heat of his touch, the thrill of his words searing into my memory. And tonight? Well, let’s just say I don’t plan on closing those blinds.

----------

Later That Night

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting Monaco in a warm, golden glow, I stand in front of my bedroom mirror, adjusting the last few things on my dresser. The blinds are open just enough, casting a soft reflection of the room and inviting in a sliver of the night. I glance over my shoulder at the window, knowing full well who might be watching.

I breathe in, feeling the excitement build. Tonight, I’m ready to give him that “show” he teased me about. I settle onto my bed, relaxing against the pillows, and allow myself to sink into the evening’s quiet. There’s an awareness in the air, the thrill of knowing that maybe, just maybe, I’m being watched.

I reach over to my nightstand, casually bringing out my favorite toys, a purple vibrating dildo and a vibrating toy in the shape of a tongue. Slowly, I begin to lose myself in the moment, all too aware of the tantalizing possibility that Lando might be watching from his window.

Just as I’m truly relaxing into the scene, there’s a firm knock at the door, shattering the silence. My heart jumps as I glance at the door, pulse racing. I hesitate, but something inside pushes me to go see who it is.

I make my way downstairs, opening the door just wide enough to see Lando standing there, his eyes dark, filled with that same mischievous look that’s been driving me crazy. He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

“You left your blinds open,” he murmurs, his voice low and laced with suggestion. “Thought I’d come by and… check on you.”

In one swift motion, he closes the space between us, his hands sliding around my waist, pressing me firmly against the wall, his body heat igniting every inch of me. His gaze locks onto mine, daring me to pull away, but there’s no chance I would. He dips his head, his lips grazing my ear as he whispers, “You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?”

I shiver, the thrill of his words sparking something wild and eager between us. His hands roam, fingers slipping under my shirt, exploring every curve as his lips capture mine in a kiss that’s hungry and unapologetic, each movement demanding a response.

As he carries me to the bedroom, there’s an electric anticipation, an unspoken promise that fills the space between us. The moment we reached my room, he pressed me against the wall, his hands firm on my waist, holding me steady. His gaze meets mine in the mirror across from us, dark and intense, every look fueling the thrill building between us.

He leans in, his voice a low murmur against my neck. “You knew I couldn’t stay away, didn’t you?” His words send a shiver through me, and he slides his hands along my waist, drawing me even closer, his touch both possessive and gentle, filled with the heat we’ve been holding back.

“I did—but I didn’t anticipate you barging in at this hour,” I manage to say between kisses, each one feeling more primal than the last. My core seems to have a mind of its own, my hips grinding against him, wanting more. Needing more.

He grins against my lips. “Didn’t take you for the needy type, princess.” He pulls back, sitting on the bed, leaving me craving the contact.

“Well, princess, not everything comes easy,” he murmurs, his gaze growing hungrier. “You teased me, so now it’s time you learn your lesson.”

I rise from his lap, tugging his shirt off in one motion, my hands exploring his toned chest and feeling his muscles tense under my touch. I trail kisses from his jaw down his neck, my lips grazing every inch, each one making my core ache with anticipation.

Sliding to my knees between his thighs, I reach the waistband of his trousers and boxers, sliding them down to let his hard cock spring free. My eyes, full of lust and need, are fixed on him, my mouth craving the feel of him. I waste no time wrapping my hand around his length, bringing my mouth to the tip, letting my tongue swirl slowly around the head before sliding down, inch by inch.

His moans and grunts grow stronger, more primal by the second. His hands grip my hair, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail, giving both of us a clearer view in the mirror.

“Fuck, princess, look at you, being such a good girl for me,” he growls, tilting my head to see his cock sliding deep into my mouth, the tip pressing at the back of my throat. Our eyes meet in the reflection, his grin never fading, eyes bright with satisfaction at the sight.

I try hard not to choke or gag as he picks up the pace, using my mouth for his pleasure. I can feel my own need intensifying, wetness pooling as I slip my free hand between my legs, seeking a hint of relief from the ache.

Just as I feel his cum on my tongue, sliding down my throat, my moans vibrate around his length, making him twitch in my mouth. His gaze shifts to the mirror, catching sight of my hand as I touch myself. In that instant, he releases his hold on my head and pulls his cock from my mouth, leaving a mix of confusion and hunger on my face.

“Princess… did I tell you that you could touch yourself?” Lando leans in, lifting my chin so our faces are close, his breath warm against my lips.

“No, you didn’t,” I reply, a hint of rebellion mixed with anticipation flashing across my face.

“Well, bad girls need punishments, so let me think of something.” An idea lights up his eyes as he guides me up onto the bed, positioning me on my hands and knees, facing the mirror. My mascara has smudged, trailing down my cheeks from the tears shed while he was in my mouth.

Part of me craves for him to finally take me and fill me up, while another part wants to see just what punishment he has in store.

He stands beside the bed and instructs me to keep my ass up and face down, so I adjust to ensure we’re both visible in the mirror. Once I settle, Lando’s hand trails from my hair down the arch of my back and onto my ass. He rubs my cheeks, his fingers dipping lower to feel my wetness, sticky and creamy, dripping onto the mattress.

“Look at you. So wet and needy for me,” he murmurs, bringing two fingers coated in my arousal back to my lips. I open my mouth, ready for a taste, and he slides his fingers in, letting me lick them clean. His breath is warm on my neck as he leans close to whisper in my ear.

“Good girls don’t touch themselves unless I say so.” He nibbles on my earlobe. “But it seems like you might just be my needy little slut instead.”

He steps away, the cool air hitting my sensitive core, sending shivers down my spine and adding a thrill to the moment.

Without warning, a sharp smack lands on one of my ass cheeks, the pain mixing with a tingling heat. He rubs over the reddened spot before delivering another smack, this time to the other side.

“Since you teased me twice, you’ll be getting four spanks—unless I see you haven’t learned your lesson.” He counts, “One,” landing a solid smack, then “Two,” and repeats on both sides. By the time he finishes the fourth, his hand has left my skin bright red, each touch leaving a sensitive, electric throb. A mix of pleasure and pain shows on my face with each strike.

“That’s it, my perfect princess,” he murmurs, brushing his fingertips gently over my sore, reddened skin. “You did so well. I think you’ve earned a reward, don’t you?”

“Yes, please,” I breathe, arching my back and raising my hips higher, my aching core desperate for attention. A grin spreads across his face as his fingers slip into my folds, rubbing my swollen clit, drawing a moan from my lips with every heavy breath.

Lando’s hunger grows more possessive as he slips a finger inside me, filling my tight heat. The sensation sends my body into overdrive, and the pleasure on his face only fuels the fire inside me. He slides another finger in, his free hand roaming along the curve of my arching spine.

His thumb continues to circle my sensitive clit, his pace quickening as he pumps his fingers in and out, each movement leaving me trembling with need. I bite my lip, trying to muffle my moans, but the pleasure is too much.

“Lando… I’m—close,” I manage to breathe out between gasps and moans.

“Oh, princess, I can see that,” he murmurs, sliding his fingers out of me suddenly, leaving an unbearable emptiness in their wake.

My wetness clings to his fingers in a glistening string as he pulls them away. “Fuck, you look so good on my fingers,” he growls, his gaze fixed on the sight of my arousal. Slowly, he brings his fingers to his lips, wrapping his tongue around them and sucking them clean.

“FUCK. And you taste ten thousand times better.” His eyes flutter shut for a moment as he savors the taste, the heat in the room climbing higher. The sight of him tasting me sends my brain spiraling into bliss, my gaping mouth wordlessly wishing for more.

Moments later, he leans down, his tongue sliding through my folds, the sensation stealing the air from my lungs. He places a light, teasing kiss on my core before beginning to suck and eat every inch of my pussy with eager determination.

“Fuck, you’re addictive, princess,” he murmurs against my entrance, the vibration of his voice making me shiver. His hands grip my ass firmly, spreading me wider, giving him full access to devour me.

His tongue teases my entrance, flicking and dipping inside, making my body twitch and ache for more. My hips start to move on their own, thrusting slightly, begging for him to go deeper.

Without warning, he flips me onto my back, positioning me for a better view. His hands grasp my thighs, and with quick precision, he pulls me to the edge of the bed. Dropping to his knees, he toys with my clit, his fingers circling and pressing before diving back between my legs, tongue working with unrelenting fervor.

“Now this, princess,” he murmurs between kisses and licks, his voice dripping with satisfaction, “I’d eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the rest of my life.”

His words push me closer to the edge, my climax approaching rapidly as my legs begin to tremble. His grip tightens on me, holding me in place, preventing me from pulling away from his relentless mouth. My body shudders suddenly as the wave of relief I’ve been craving washes over me.

My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as I grind against his mouth, riding out every pulse of my orgasm, my breaths coming in ragged gasps.

I feel my arousal spill into his mouth as he greedily licks and sucks, not letting a single drop go to waste. He stands, his eyes dark and filled with hunger, leaning in to kiss me. The taste of my release lingers on his lips, and I moan softly, lost in the sensation.

His hard cock presses against my core, grinding against me with desperate need, and I instinctively move my hips, craving to feel him inside me. His kiss grows rough and possessive, his hand sliding down from my neck to my breasts. He pinches one of my nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through me and drawing a gasp that he swallows into the kiss, his grin wicked and satisfied.

“If my needy princess wants something, she has to ask for it,” he whispers, his lips parting from mine with a teasing grin, his breath warm against my ear.

His hand slides down to my clit, his fingers circling and flicking, sending jolts of pleasure through my body. My breath hitches, and a soft moan escapes my lips, my mind struggling to process his words.

“Use your words, princess. Tell me what you want,” he growls, his voice firm yet tantalizing, his fingers working me into a frenzy.

“Fuck me, please,” I murmur, my voice trembling as the heat builds in my core, every nerve in my body begging for him.

“Say that again, princess,” he demands, his tone dripping with playful dominance. “A little louder for me.”

“Fuck! I need you to fuck me—to feel you inside me. Please!” The frustration and raw need are evident in my voice, my body aching for him to claim me.

“That’s my good little slut,” he murmurs, satisfaction clear in his tone. He adjusts himself at my entrance, teasing me for a moment before slowly sliding inside, letting me adjust to his size. The stretch is overwhelming, and my fingers instinctively trail down his back, nails digging in and leaving marks. He jolts forward at the sensation, filling me deeper and making my head fall back, my back arching as I gasp at the sudden invasion.

He growls into my neck, leaving a trail of kisses and soft bites as he begins to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first. The rhythm shifts, his chest lifting from mine, giving him a full view of my bare body beneath him. One hand slides to my stomach, pressing down lightly as he picks up speed, fucking me harder and faster, his thrusts deep and commanding.

“That’s it, princess,” he growls, his voice raw with pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Let me stretch you just enough to make your pussy become a ring on my cock.” His hips slam into mine with a hunger that matches my own, the sound of our skin meeting echoing through the room.

As his thrusts grow more desperate, his hand reaches for the vibrating tongue toy on the nightstand. Without missing a beat, he presses it against my clit, the sudden overload of sensation making me throw my head back, a loud moan of his name escaping my lips as my hands clutch the sheets for dear life.

A wicked glint of satisfaction flashes across Lando’s face, his grin smug and proud. He leans in close, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispers, “Princess, as much as your moans are music to my ears, we can’t have your friends interrupting us right now—or finding out that their sweet little friend is such a good slut for the guy next door.”

Before I can respond, he grabs my black lace panties by the bed—the ones I’d removed during my earlier “show”—and gently pushes them into my mouth, muffling my cries of ecstasy as he continues to claim me.

My pussy clenches and twitches around his cock as his thrusts grow wetter, the sound of our movements filling the room. My orgasm teeters on the edge, his cum seeping into me, intensifying the sensation.

His growls and moans grow deeper and more primal. “Fuck, princess, you must be close,” he murmurs, his face satisfied as he watches my trembling legs and the euphoria written all over my face.

My muffled cries escape past the panties still in my mouth, vibrating softly in the heated air. “Cum for me, princess,” Lando commands, thrusting into me twice more. His words send me hurtling into my second orgasm of the night, my body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure consume me.

Lando’s thrusts grow sloppy, his grip on my waist tightening as he buries himself deep inside me. My pussy milks every last drop of his release, the warmth of his cum splashing against my inner walls. With a low growl, he slides out of me, both of our arousals dripping down my thighs and pooling onto the mattress.

He steps back, his eyes lighting up as he takes in the sight of my used, naked body, glistening and dripping with his cum. Slowly, his gaze traces every inch of me, savoring the evidence of what we’d just done.

“You know,” he says, his voice still thick with lust, “I might want this view every hour of the day from now on.” His tone is intoxicating, and he steps closer, gently removing the panties from my mouth before placing a soft kiss on my lips. “What do you think? You agree?” His smirk deepens, a dimple just beginning to peek through.

“I think that can be arranged,” I reply, wrapping my arms around his neck, a cheeky smile spreading across my face.

“Perfect,” he says, brushing his lips along my skin in a trail of butterfly kisses. “Let me start a shower for you, and then you can get some rest.” His voice is softer now, but still filled with care.

As he moves toward the bathroom, I pull myself up onto shaky feet, my body sore in all the best ways. Each ache is a reminder of every moment we’d just shared. I follow him, leaning on the sink in front of the mirror, catching a glimpse of my reflection—flushed, satisfied, and completely undone. The sensation of his cum still seeping out of me draws my attention, and I can’t help but slide a finger down to catch a drop, bringing it to my lips. I shut my eyes, savoring the taste.

Fuck, I need more.

Lando calls to me, his voice echoing softly under the sound of the shower. I walk toward him, wrapping my arms around his neck as he turns to face me. Pulling him into a sensual kiss, I whisper against his lips, “Are you up for a round two?” A glimmer of mischief dances in my eyes.

Lando grins at my request, his hands sliding down to rest on my hips. Leaning close, he murmurs under the steam of the shower, “I could never deny you a request like that, princess.”

The End

[katiascraft]

"Tender is the night for a broken heart" | CL16

Parings: Charles Leclerc x Reader.

Summary: you been feeling very sad lately. Your emotional stress is taking you places you didn’t want to back in ever again. And Charles knows it - just wanna make sure you know you are loved despite it all.

Now playing: "Space song" by Super Pipo.

Word count: +2k

Warnings: INSINUATION OF SUICIDE - if you are sensitive to these kind of topics please don’t read it. ANGST WITH HAPPY ENDING. VERY SAD. Not a native English speaker so there could be (so many) errors. I do what I can. Not proofread.

Author's note: I may or may not written this one about a real situation. PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION. Hope you like it and sorry in advanced if I make you cry. Charles the man that you are in my head 😭. Don’t forget to comment, like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

The wind was brushing the tears that were dropping from your eyes gently. You were shaking, scared. Nature was the only thing that surrounded you. Tall pines with your favorite gradient of green were all around you. You could hear the bird singing. You thought it was morning because the sun on your face was warm - that made you close your eyes to take it all in. that made you sob even harder. You could hear the water of the river crashing against the stonewall of the cliff you were standing on. when you opened your eyes you could see that you were on the edge of it. You took a gasp of fair freezing in the moment. A feeling so overwhelming took over you starting to sweat. Your hands wrapped your own body around. You hugged yourself there. The pain eating you alive was almost unbearable. The wind intensified, sending shivers down your spine. You closed your eyes again, ready to let go of everything. Of this pain you carried along so many years of your life. This burden you carried everywhere. This ghost living inside you is trapped, washing away your personality. Your soul felt in prison by the canvas it got. Your body felt the most uncomfortable place to exist. Your mind was so twisted sometimes you didn't know what was reality and what was your anxiety inventing fake scenarios which will hunt you all night long. Living with you was so difficult. It felt impossible for you that someone could actually love just by who you were. If you are this dark entity then who could love you? Anyone. Your mind convinced you, you needed to end it all to be finally free. You knew you were meant to fly. You just needed to let go. Relax your body and let it float. Let it fall into the immensity of the universe. Let you find a better place to live in. have your happy ending. You finally opened your eyes again out of breath trembling. You were ready. This was it for you. It was time. It was finally time. You even smiled.

But when you were about to let go you started hearing that voice. The same voice you heard every morning and you didn't know why it would choose to stick around your misery.

“y/n! y/n stop!” his voice almost broke your ears of how loud he screamed. You stopped freezing at your feet. Your heart started pounding like crazy. Adrenaline takes over your body turning your face red. Tears started to come out again even more violently. “y/n please don't do it!” his voice was torn in desperation. He was crying as violently as you, you could feel it. You could feel him grabbing your arms. You saw the watered disappear. Now you could only see the stone of the mountain you were standing on. You screamed at the top of your lungs and then everything was black.

“No!” you woke up sweating cold. You were a sea of tears shaking. Charles was already awake. He was trying to wake you up for a couple of minutes and now is really worried about you. You couldn't stop crying stunned by the nightmare you've just had.

“y/n. It's okay, love. I am here. You are ok” he said gently so wouldn't scare you. He grabbed you in his arms carefully. You looked so fragile he was scared he could break you. His heart ached seeing you like this.

These past few weeks were really hard on your end. You started feeling like your old self, self doubting about everything and anything. Insecure you weren't enough anymore for him or your job or your friend or even your family. You started feeling like a burden again lost in your own pain and struggle. Life was always a little harder for you. You've been out of really toxic relationships during your teenagehood that broke you down so bad you had to rebuild yourself all over again as if you weren't ever born. All this trauma you carried made everyday harder to live for you. You developed social issues not knowing how to interact or make friends as the aftermath. You also couldn't trust people or ask for help. Yeah, you were depressed for a couple of years. Thankfully you met Charles at your best self you liked to think. You were starting to feel happier. You liked who you were becoming. It wasn't that hard anymore to talk to people or open up with them.

When you met, you never thought Charles would even like you to be fair. He was the most gorgeous guy you have ever met. Real life prince charming you used to tell your friends. You were only an average girl, a troubled and messed up one, you thought you had no chance with him. But at the end of the road trip with friends he kissed you and you felt so overwhelmed with joy you couldn't believe it was actually your life, the one you were living. It felt strange and at the same time amazing. It was so easy with Charles to open up to him and tell him your story. He never judged you nor ran away from you scared. He didn't see you as a monster. As a broken record never able to be fixed. He fell in love with you because to him you were the sweetest person with the biggest heart he has ever talked to. You were so honest and real to everyone about everything he fell for it. He fell for your loud and weird laugh. So Precious and contagious. With your beautiful sparkly eyes always so honest and crystal clear. You were so you, so real. He felt you were so brave to be so you. In his world it was uncommon for your kind of people. He knew since the first night he met you at Lando´s birthday 5 years ago that you were the one. He didn't know you but he already knew. Destiny told him.

He knew your struggles, of course he did. He always listened to you. Felt so heartbroken every time. If he could, he would literally murder every single monster - because the one who hurt you didn't deserve to be called even humans - that did all of that to you. To him you were so pure, maybe too good for this cruel world. He tried to protect you from it all the best he could. But there was one thing he couldn't protect you against and that was your mind. He knew that your mind was the one who could move earth and seas just to hurt you in the worst way possible.

Heknew something was off with you when you started retreating. You stopped going to friends´ dinners. You didn't assist in the races you were supposed to. You stopped getting out of home more and more. You barely went out to the garden. Most of the time you were in your studio working non stop to preoccupy your mind and not think. He knew you were struggling when I stopped doing your hair the way you loved to do it. Stopped wearing your fancy outfits just to drive him crazy and urging you to take them all off when you two got home. You stopped eating the meals you were supposed to. He knew you avoid seeking help when you feel this down. He knew it was really hard for you so he let you be and wait for you to take your time until you're ready to address your feelings.

Tonight you were asleep when he got home from Max´s. You didn't want to go either and Max was your best friend. Charles was really concerned about you. He hated seeing you like this when you don't deserve to feel this. He would burn the world alive just for you to be happy if needed. You were sleeping peacefully so he decided to take a shower and join you. He laid next to you on his side to look at your face so peacefully relaxed. So angelical. He always felt so lucky to have you around in his life. Even without noticing you were the light of his life. You made him so incredibly happy, heard, understood, supported, embraced. You were his angel. Always reaching for him to give him a hand with anything he needed. So patient and understanding. You were his favorite place and he wished he could make you feel the same. Because he loved you with every fiber on his body and the only wish he had was for you to be happy.

After about 20 minutes of sleeping or so he woke up to you sobbing uncontrollably next to him. You were asleep. He guessed you were either having a nightmare or sleep paralysis. He settled on the bed so he could try to wake you up. His heart was racing in anxiety full of worry. He tried to wake you up for a couple of long minutes until you finally did and he clothed you in his arms. He rocked you gently trying to comfort you in some way.

“I'm sorry baby you feel this way” he whispered with a knot on his throat. You were shaking still but your crying ceased little by little. He kissed your temple lovingly and carefully. You just stayed like that until you could calm down.

When you did you felt drained. Your heart aches as your face from your salty tears and tries to wipe them everytime. Charles cupped your cheeks making you look at him. You felt so guilty and embarrassed to make him go through this. He didn't deserve to be with a broken soul. He deserved better. Someone that could make him happy as he deserved. You looked at him, his eyes glassy with tears.

“Listen to me y/n, i know you may or may not believe me. But listen to me okay?” you swallowed hard, ready to hate yourself for being a burden to him. “I love you. I know you feel like you don't deserve me like you are not enough for me. But let me tell you all of that is not true. I swear I would kill all these people who made you believe all these awful things about you if I could. You don't deserve to feel this pain baby. You are beautiful. You are important to so many people. You make so happy you don't have an idea” his voice cracked making you start crying again and so did he. “You really do y/n, please, believe me. You are an amazing person despite everything that happened to you. You fought so hard to be who you are and I promise it's beautiful to see. And I'm so proud of you baby. Everyone is, I promise. You are really important to me and to everyone that knows you. You are light and I know you don't feel like it. That you feel like a burden but you aren't. And you'll never be for the right people, the ones that see you, the real you. and the real you is so interesting and pretty baby. Yes you are my love” he was crying and smiling. You were sobbing but didn't take your eyes away from him. He was burning your soul with his words. Telling you everything you needed to hear and he didn't even know that. Charlie was so perfect to you even in this shitty as fuck situations with your mental health. You felt so lucky right there in his arms under the sight of his beautiful eyes that looked at you with deep love.

“I love you charlie” you said below whisper and hugged him tightly hiding yourself under his frame. You wanted to hide there forever if possible. He intensified his grip and kissed your head trying to comfort you as much as he could.

“You deserve to be happy y/n, i really mean it. You're the best person i've ever come to know.” he said softly making butterflies fly like crazy on your stomach. The pain you felt was fading away now little by little. You felt so dumb for not talking sooner about your feelings but you forgave yourself. That's what your therapist told you. You need to be more gentle with yourself and give the same understanding perspective as you give to others. Treat yourself as you treat others. Always.

“You make me happy” you said with your face buried in his neck not wanting to get out of there anytime soon. He smiled relieved and pressed gentle kisses on your cheek.

He was the first person who listened to your soul. And you knew right there that with him by your side you could heal and finally be the person you deserve to be and be loved just because.

Charles was the love of your life. And he was yours. There´s nothing to be afraid of.

You will be more than okay.

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: it's monday! and fake joe's here for you! he's... not exactly the best, for which i apologise, but, he's all for you, so please, enjoy him fictionally and respect him privately (too much to ask? i hope not?) ok great talk everyone, love you <33 xo

Wordcount: 6.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Four days of silence.

Four days of not looking each other in the eye. Of no physical touch. Of not saying a single fucking word.

You moved around each other in a shared space until you had the thought that you were probably better off avoiding each other completely for a little while.

Joe was convinced he had every right to wait for an apology before he’d speak to you again. You, however, obviously heavily disagreed.

You had just been honest.

Joe had asked for you to be honest and so, you had been, but apparently, you’d done it wrong.

It started with an evening of not speaking after an outburst. A silent night routine where you completely avoided one another. Acted like the other person wasn’t even there. You’d thought then that you’d speak in the morning. That you’d talk things out after getting some sleep, because maybe that was the problem.

You slept with your backs facing each other and dreamed of better moods in the morning.

But then the next morning, Joe had gotten up and only made one coffee.

One singular cup of coffee.

He drank it at the kitchen table, looked at you all bitterly like a disappointed parent would look at their child who was ruining their potential, and then left the empty cup there for you to grow even more annoyed at. More than you already were.

That one evening of silence had slowly turned into four days.

You bit your tongue, though. Kept quiet, because Joe did too. Stored the annoyance away. Swept it under the rug, and even though this metaphoric rug was starting to look really lumpy, you pretended you could walk over it fine still.

You then also ignored that this is precisely what the fight had been about. About you shutting up about all the little things that annoyed you. All the small things that didn’t feel worth the effort to say anything about in the moment, because you didn’t want to be a nag.

Things built with you.

Being bothersome was your worst nightmare, so you wouldn’t say anything for ages until then suddenly, on a random afternoon, a teeny tiny drop made the bucket overflow and you’d fall apart at something so stupidly insignificant which would take everyone by surprise.

Would take Joe by surprise.

And it made sense that Joe’s first reaction to your fire would be to light his own. You’d snap and shout, so Joe’d snap and shout right back.

“Babe, you never fucking communicate! It’s always– I’m always guessing with you! Just tell me when something upsets you!”

“I am!”

“Yea now you are! But you’re telling me about shit I said three months ago! What do you want me to change about something I did three months ago?!”

“I don’t want you to change anything– my God! You asked me what’s wrong, so I’m telling you what’s wrong!”

It was always the same fight. And usually, you’d end up saying something so stupid to your own ears it would break the tension and make you laugh. It’d be easy to apologise in those moments, because you knew this was on you, and the warmth coming off of Joe as he’d turn soft at your laughter would always sort of fix things.

“Stop being so silly,” he’d say as he’d hug you. As he’d kiss you on the cheek until your embarrassed grimace, aimed fully at yourself, disappeared.

“Got some moaning left in there?” he’d ask, tapping the side of your head with a finger, making you giggle despite yourself. “Want to go shout into the air from the balcony? Since you’re here now, this is the time to get all of it out.”

That was how it usually went.

And he was right; you could definitely communicate better. Express feelings in the moment rather than hold on to all the negative shit for ages.

Easier said than done, but at least you were aware that you had to stop saving things for another day.  

This time the fight had been different though. There was no eventual humour slipping through any cracks. No secret smiles hidden from each other until you stopped being able to conceal them. No apologies. Zero kind words. Just… anger. And silence.

Joe was waiting for you to break first. For your wrath to turn into something a little softer that he could mould into something more to his liking.

And you were waiting because Joe was waiting. Simple as that.

It didn’t feel fair that every time you’d share negative feelings, Joe would end up calling you silly.

It didn’t feel fair that Joe never apologised for anything.

It didn’t feel fair that, just because you were quiet for a moment as you collected your thoughts, Joe spat, “Silent treatment? All right.” at you.

Four days.

Four days of Joe making a morning coffee just for himself, actively choosing to ignore, and therefore, hurt you.

Four days of his lone empty coffee cup left on the table, which you then didn’t clean, because why the fuck would you, but the sight of it was eating you alive.

You spent four days witnessing petty, childish behaviour from the man who you started believing you needed some space from. A little breathing room. Just until he’d miss you enough to reach out and say sorry, you know?

You wondered if he was thinking the same.

If the silence was also letting his mind wander into those same dark corners yours was exploring.

But then, Joe broke it.

A glass of wine on that fourth night broke it.

It wasn’t exactly an apology, but… it felt like one. You decided it was an apology.

You were sitting on the sofa, tapping away on your phone, talking to Emily about your stupid boyfriend, and she was a good friend, made fun of him effortlessly which really did a good job of making you feel better.

Then, Joe placed a glass of wine down on the coffee table in front of you.

It didn’t fully register at first.

You saw the glass, but assumed it was Joe’s wine that he poured for just himself, and if you were going to want some, you’d have to go and fetch you own.

Mid-typing out a message to Emily about it, you felt Joe sit down next to you, and when you chanced a quick glance, you saw that he was holding a glass of wine himself as he got comfortable and turned on the TV.

Slowly, your phone lowered into your lap, and you stared at that glass of red wine on the table for a moment.

Without warning, your eyes welled up.

He poured that for you.

In the effort to not let Joe notice how this gesture hit you right in the gut, you held your breath until you were shaking, and then a heaving sob burst out of you.

Shit.

You shattered.

Split right down the middle, and burst into pieces with such vigour, you surprised yourself, but surprised Joe more.

He had expected you to pick up the glass and empty it in the sink, or whatever.

Four days was much longer than he thought you’d let this go on for.

His girlfriend was stubborn – he knew that. But four days? Four days was a really fucking long time. And, apparently, four days was long enough for a simple glass of red supermarket wine to make you cry.

The astonishment rendered Joe useless for a moment.

He just looked at you for a moment as you sat with your phone in your lap, head dropped down, and your face covered by both your hands.

This was really fucking embarrassing.

Your legs felt the want to escape the situation before your mind got the chance to catch up. You were up on your feet and wanted to bolt it to the bedroom when you heard Joe put his glass of wine down.

You hadn’t even taken two steps before you got taken hold of by an arm. Pulled into a chest. Held firmly into place.

Going from four days of moving around each other like you didn’t exist to one another, to the very sudden tightest hug you’d received in ages was a lot.

And then Joe placed a hand on the back of your neck and squeezed you gently, making you fucking bawl.

No one apologised.

No one said a word, actually.

But you took whatever that glass of wine was as enough of an olive branch to let yourself be hugged.

Be shushed quietly.

Be gently kissed and softly touched.  

It shouldn’t have counted as an apology, but you’d taken it as one, and Joe had conveniently let you.

Saturday night.

You’re out.

Alone.

You know Emily would have come if you had asked her to, but you hadn’t, because she would’ve likely asked a bunch of questions you didn’t want to answer.

“Where are we going?” “That’s not where we usually go...” “Why are we going there?”

Couldn’t tell her. She’d try her best to talk sense into you. Would try to convince you that this behaviour wasn’t serving anyone in the long term.

And she’d be right.

But you currently don’t really care about the long term.

Short term is where it’s at.

Where all the fun and the excitement lives.

So you’re out. Having drinks at a bar by yourself, and you do your very best fending off any trickle of doubt at your life choices until you see him walk in.

Jackpot.

You fucking knew it.

You pretend you haven’t seen him at all, of course. Continue your chat with the girl behind the bar, until suddenly–

“You know you’ve got the worst timing?”

Joe sneaks up on you.

His voice is low in your ear, and you do your very best to sound as surprised as you possibly can when you gasp a small breath, all innocent. You turn your head to see him over your shoulder, both his hands on your sides as he looks down at you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You say it like you truly didn’t expect to run into him.

Oscar worthy.

Well. It would have been, had you not both been very aware that you’re exactly where you are for this exact reason. Wearing what you are wearing, drinking what you are drinking. It’s more than a lucky guess that he’d be here tonight.

Joe’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

“I’m here with a whole group.” Joe’s making excuses he already knows aren’t going to stop either one of you.  

“Do I know them?”

“No.” Joe answers as he scans your face from the side. God, you look all… glossy.

“Good.” Would’ve been a bit awkward otherwise.

“You better hang around for a bit.” Joe gives you a face, sort of stern, and it’s so comfortable to frown at him. To act all offended. Like it’s not exactly what you want to hear.

“Excuse you, I’m–” you start all aghast, and want to add, I’m seeing someone, which is a lie, but you get cut off by a strong squeeze into your waist from both his hands.

“I’m not joking. Give me… maybe, like, an hour and I’ll come get you.”

You scrunch your nose at him and he gives a small nod, his grin spreading wide, before he turns around and finds the people he came in with.

You’re alone. Single, and having drinks in a bar by yourself, which has every opportunity to feel a little sad, but instead you feel giddy. You predicted you’d run into him, and then you did.

Perfect.

You’re a genius.

After last time, you kind of want Joe to think that you are seeing someone. Just to make you feel like you’ve got the upper hand. Not that it matters. You’ve both made the same wrong choice in similar situations before. But, still. You just don’t want him to win.

Joe joins his friends, and he throws a quick glance back to see you smile into your drink as you take a sip.

Yea. Glossy is the right word, he thinks. He could stare at you all evening.

Fuck.

A whack to his shoulder by one of his friends pulls him into a conversation and momentarily, he shifts into the evening he had planned to have.

He forgets about you for a minute, but never entirely.

It’s like there’s a constant little buzz in the back of his head, and he keeps wanting to look over. See what you’re doing. Who you’re talking to. Who’s talking to you.

Joe’s in trouble.

You do things to him that he can’t entirely comprehend, and that no one before or after you has ever really managed. He doesn’t know what to make of that most of the time, except that the feelings he’s got for you are sort of… big. And scary.

You’re still devastatingly gorgeous to him, he can objectively look at you and think, yea she’s fucking hot, but you also manage to make him laugh. Manage to him feel heard and cared for. Manage to make him forget about all current worries life has on offer for him.

And Joe is generally, just, doomed.

Whatever he had with you had worked for a while and then suddenly it hadn’t anymore. You’d suddenly wanted out, but now… it feels a little like you both want to start over. Like you both want to forget about that chapter of bullshit. Pretend it never happened.

And what’s the problem with that?

Is whatever you are doing now a problem? If it works?

If it doesn’t hurt people, Joe thinks there’s no issue.

But he knows it actually does hurt people. It’s another truth he ignores. Tries to, at least.

There’s no denying the gravitation pulling the two of you closer and closer together until eventually you end up a tangled mess. Like a pair of forgotten earphones left in a coat pocket, too annoying to untie, so instead someone will pull at both ends until the earpieces reach both ears, leaving the wire tangled up even tighter as it sits under their chin.

Even though Joe appreciates the poetic beauty he can find in all of that, he knows he’s got to fucking stop hurting people all the time.

He can’t help his feelings.

But he can help how he treats others.

If he is going to choose to let the general ache of a bad week be soothed by the balm of your presence, he can at least have the decency to not let others presume they’re dating him. Because generally, that’s always been his problem. Joe’s vague and avoidant and all about surface level fun – he never defines anything if he can help it, and he lets others think what they please.

It’s easier that way.

For him, at least.

It’s both a shame and a godsend that this is a part of him that you know through and through. That you see. He doesn’t have to try to hide it, because he knows that it’s of no use with you.

And apparently, it’s fine, because here you fucking are, aren’t you?

He remembers when he thought you were just the same, and remembers how he felt so lucky at first.

A perfect match.

He’d learnt over time, you’re actually very much not the same. But! You had at least some of the same tendencies, and you showing up in this particular bar tonight was enough proof of it.

Joe’s in his group of friends, and they’re all chatting and laughing, and this was meant to be a fun night out, but he might as well just leave right now. His mind is with the girl at the other end of the bar, sat on her own, smiling and chatting to whoever had the courage to strike up a conversation.

Yea.

He’s got more problems.

Forget not wanting to define anything with anyone.

Joe also has to stop banking his entire future on the idea that you want him too.

There’s… there’s a lot of things to ignore.

It should foreshadow that the path he’s going down isn’t good. Isn’t the right one. But... it’s so fun and exciting, he kind of has to know where it leads.

He sighs loudly, a frustrated grumble originating from sheer defeat, and he gives the glass he’s holding a glance. He’ll finish this, and then he’ll fetch you and leave.

About fifteen minutes later, he’s got you under his arm and is leading you outside. Asks, “Yours or mine?” because there’s no need to act coy with you.

You answer, “Yours.” a little too quickly for Joe not to raise an eyebrow at.

You’re walking together, and you’re still fixing your scarf, but your steps are too determined. Too rushed for your quick answer not to hide at least some secrets.

“What, you got anything to hide from me?”

“No–”

“Let’s go over to yours. It’s closer.” he challenges without the intent to actually do so, footsteps still carrying him in the direction of his own flat.

“No, I–”

“Or has Jasper left all of his things strewn about?” Joe couldn’t finish the question before having to twist his mouth in a bid to hide his smile.

You stop walking for just a second, and give him a dead pan stare that transitions into an eye-roll before you flatly say, “All right, good night.” and pretend to turn around to leave.

It makes Joe throw his head back in a laugh, both his arms grabbing at you and pulling you close.

“Mine, okay. Mine.”

And you fall back into step, smiling into your scarf at how you just made Joe’s laugh echo down the street.

Feels good to make Joe laugh.

It’s quiet for a bit, just a short few seconds. Just footsteps on the ground amongst the noises of the city. Somehow, it feels like it drags on, like every second lasts a whole minute, and you can’t help filling it with awkward chat. “No,” you start. “Jasper’s put all of his things where they’re supposed to go.” And you give Joe a pointed look after.

He bites immediately.

“Wha– I always put my things where they’re supposed to go!”

He doesn’t.

You know he doesn’t.

He knows you know he doesn’t.

It’s impossible to forget all of the little things that made the rug look all lumpy. You’d always keep things under there for ages, which gave you a lot of time to quietly lift up corners to examine all the mess.

So you snort, and he stutters through beginnings of words he never finishes to find excuses that don’t exist until you’re both laughing.

Then he says, “Here. I’ll put this thing where it’s meant to go.” And you think it’s just about the cheesiest innuendo ever, but then he takes your wrist in his hand and lets his fingers intertwine with yours.

You look up at him with a pursed smile, but Joe’s already looking right ahead, making sure you don’t bump into anything.

You’re lucky it’s cold enough to blame the flush of your cheeks on the cold wind.

You hold hands all the way to Joe’s flat.

It’s nice.

You also talk about Jasper all the way to Joe’s flat.

That’s less nice.

Joe asks what else Jasper does that he allegedly doesn’t. If he lets you keep your heating on. If he lets you sleep closest to the door. Every question comes out with disdain, like this loser doesn’t know what he’s fucking doing.

And you answer every question with lies. Paint a very pretty picture.

Jasper doesn’t even fucking exist, but you like that Joe thinks you’re taken. That you’re off the market, and that he shouldn’t be taking you home, but still chooses to. You think maybe he wouldn’t have held your hand if he thought you weren’t already spoken for.

However, it doesn’t feel so nice to remember all the things that ruined your relationship with Joe. He just keeps listing a bunch of shit you’d once yelled at him for, and you don’t think he fully understands how it’s bringing the mood down.

Presumably, you’re meant to think it’s funny, so you smile, but all of it sits wrong in your gut. It leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth that uncomfortably sticks to your tongue and sours your mood a little.

The short-term fun with Joe is meant to be just that. Fun. You don’t want to be reminded of all the reasons why you shouldn’t be going home with him right now. If you did, you’d have taken Emily with you tonight.

You refrain from saying anything, though.

You’re still you, after all.

You just smile and tell Joe that Jasper actually does do all the things that Joe never did, and hope it sparks enough jealousy in him to maybe do something about it.

“Hmm,” Joe says when you turn the corner and his building comes into view. “Jasper sounds... he sounds kind of perfect, doesn’t he?”

He does.

You’ve created the image of a perfect boyfriend. One who you know you’d never actually gel with; you need someone who pushes back a little.

Problem is... Joe knows that too.

Just when the thought crosses your mind that maybe Joe knows you’re making everything up, that you’ve been lying this whole time you’ve been holding hands, Joe confirms your fears.

“Almost too um... almost too good to be true, wouldn’t you say?” he narrows his eyes in suspicion, a smile still playing on his lips.

“Yea, well. Some people are.” you shrug, but know Joe is reading your unsteady body language just fine.

“Sure, sure. Yea. I guess so.” Joe says, and then falls silent.

He knows you’re lying.

Well, fuck.

And then, he lets the silence linger.

Joe doesn’t say anything as he fishes his keys from a pocket and lets you into his building. Doesn’t say anything as he pushes the lift button. Just gives you a little smile, like he’s trying to hold in a chuckle, thinking secret thoughts.

It gets in your hair.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s... no, it’s nothing.”

Joe lets his small smile turn into a fat smirk and it’s starting to get on your nerves. The lift doors open, and you assertively step inside before Joe can give you a small ladies-first gesture.

Joe watches you press the button to his floor before he shakes his head a little and follows you in.

“What?” you ask again, and to that, Joe finally lets a barking laugh out.

“What?” he mimics, feeding off of the brooding bit of bite he can sense growing underneath your skin.

“If you’re trying to piss me off, it’s fucking working.”

“I’m not trying to do anything.” Joe patronises, joy very much still visible in the lines on his cheeks.

He knows you’re single.

He knows there’s no Jasper.

“Hmm.” It’s your turn to narrow eyes at him. “Yea, no. Of course not. You don’t have to try to piss me off, you’re right. You’ve got the skills to auto-pilot your way–”

In a lightning-speed quick move, Joe shuts you up by suddenly getting close enough for you to stumble back against the mirrored panel or the lift. He’s got two hands touching your sides over your coat, firm enough for you to feel them through the thick layers of fabric.

It startles you into silence, and makes you audibly swallow.

You can see from up close how Joe smugly pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, eyes roving over you slowly, and, fuck.

Yea.

Yea. Okay.

It shifts.

All of it is shifting.

The annoyance and slight anger transfers into something else.

Into something a little more raunchy.

You feel a sudden rush down your body from the way Joe’s eyes blaze with intention.

Joe knows you. Bit rash of you to forget.

Just before the lift stills and the doors open behind him, Joe lets his body sway forward a bit to press himself up against you entirely. It makes your breath hitch and stutter. Makes you want to grab hold of the large collar of his coat to pull him down enough so you can kiss him.

But then, in a blink of an eye, he’s gone. Pushes himself off, quickly moves away, walks out of the lift, and leaves you there to catch your breath for a second.

Fucking hell.

Oh, tonight is going to be interesting.

You don’t leave the lift until the doors start closing and you have to quickly launch yourself across to get an arm in front of the sensor. Down the hall you see him disappear into his flat, leaving his door open, and you take rushing steps to follow him inside.

You don’t want to waste any more time.

You want to undress right there on his doormat, despite the bitterly cold temperature you’ve just stepped into.

You want find Joe, who you can hear is already opening and closing cupboards in his kitchen, and just... you don’t know. Jump him, you guess.

That lift moment has made you want to devour him. Made you want to be devoured by him.

But then you close his door and step into his kitchen, and find him at the counter. He’s got his back turned, and is super calmly pouring two glasses of wine.

No urgency.

Zero haste.

He knows what he’s just done to you. Knows the effect that likely must have had. He’s toying with you. Fucking playing.

You drop your coat where you’re standing, right onto the floor. Toe your shoes off to make a pile. You cross your arms and grab hold of the bottom of your top, ready to pull that over your head next, but you pause to watch Joe’s shoulders move under his shirt as he carefully twists and pushes the cork back onto the bottle to seal it.

When he turns around, he leans against the counter, one hand on the edge of it, and in the other he’s holding a nice fat glass of red.

Glass.

One glass.

For a moment you just assume that there’s another hiding behind his back, though it doesn’t even fully register.

You make eye-contact as he takes a slow sip of his drink, and then you slowly pull your top off. It reveals a lacy bra you’re convinced Joe likes the look of.

And you’re right.

Joe halts, and openly stares. Mouth in his wine. Hypnotised. Frozen on the spot. Mind slowly turning to mush.

He’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

You take a deep breath, inflating your whole chest, and Joe groans at the sight. The glass of wine gets put back down behind him, and you don’t even think he has taken real sip. Then he takes a few steps to pull a chair from his table.

He holds a hand up that means, one second, and pulls at the fabric of his trousers to give himself a bit more space before he sits down. He shifts a little, settles in, and then leans back with his legs spread wide, both hands behind his head, fingers folded and elbows sticking out.

He takes a deep breath before he gives a small nod that says, carry on.

You bite your teeth into your bottom lip as you smile, because Joe is an idiot, and you let your hands find the button to your trousers to take off next.

Then, suddenly, it lands.

There’s one single glass of wine on the counter.

One.

You stop your movements as you look at it and watch the red liquid inside softly swirl from when Joe put it down.

It takes a second for Joe to follow your gaze, and for him to understand what you’re looking at.

He frowns in confusion a little, looks back at you to see that you’re still staring, and then looks back again, and–

“Oh...”

Your expression has gone cold.

And Joe thinks that maybe he gets it. He isn’t entirely sure, but he’s smart enough to know that the show he had just settled in for is probably going to get cancelled if he doesn’t do anything.

“Did you...”

But he’s not sure what to say. Doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. When you start moving, he thinks maybe he doesn’t have to.

It’s crazy how this feels like it used to feel, before.

But, it’s a little different now, because… there’s nothing at stake. There’s no you to protect. No you two as a couple to preserve.

That stupid single glass of red wine.

You fucking hate it.

And you know it’s sick, you know that you’re not meant to enjoy this, but the feeling of rage bubbling up within you honestly feels kind of good. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to experience full-body resentment, and have the immediate source of it right there to take it out on.

You want to feel this dark, sticky displeasure.

Feels fucking good.

Joe’s been reminding you of what a shit boyfriend he was to you, which was meant to be ha-ha funny. Joe thought enough time had passed. You had gone from no-contact to two people that bickered for a bit, and then would end up in bed together. It had happened twice already, and you had all the right ingredients to keep this going. The recipe had proven itself delicious, and Joe thought he could just... serve the same meal again.

It’s self-destructive, you know it is, but… you are hungry for it too.

You take a few slow steps and walk over to look at this glass of wine more closely. Joe watches you from his seat, entirely unsure of what to do, and then, without warning, you slowly push the whole thing into the sink.

Red splashes everywhere, and the glass clatters loudly, but it doesn’t break.

Next, you take the bottle into your hands. Look at the label for a moment. Pretend to read it. It’s still pretty full.

Too bad, you think. Such a waste.

You remove the cork, turn around to look Joe directly in the eye, and then tip that over as well. The whole sink colours blood read as you drain the whole thing, and all Joe can do is watch on from his seat.

He doesn’t stop you.

Doesn’t say anything.

Just watches you and feels the energy of the room build.

He’d forgotten how things always build with you.

You’re quite the sight, face reading thunder, standing in his kitchen in your bra, breath deepening with every second that passes.

Joe hates what it does to him inside of his trousers.

When the bottle empties, wine clattering in the sink, Joe sees your face change. Something more… calm seemingly overcomes you. You look... pleased.

“Does that feel justified?” Joe asks, eyes blinking at you.

“Fuck you. Yes it does.”

“Do you have any idea how expensive that was?”

You don’t give a shit how expensive that was, but just because you know Joe does, you want to know.

“Tell me.”

Joe scans your body all the way down and then all the way back up.

“Come here.” Joe holds an arm out and reaches for you.

“Shut up. Tell me.” You’re already making your way over.

“That’s a class A premier grand cru...”

You take Joe’s hand and let him pull you to sit on his lap. To straddle him, thighs spread wide, one leg over each one of his.

“That was a class A premier grand cru.” the words mean nothing to you, you know fuck all about wine, but there’s something glorious about correcting Joe.

“Hmm.” Joe hums as his nose nudges yours, and he lets both hands slide up your thighs until he finds the bits he likes holding most. He uses his grip to pull you in closer and continues, “A blend of merlot, and cabernet franc...” Joe’s French accent is awful. “An award-winning Château Angélus from... from 2016, I think...”

That’s fairly recent, you think. Can’t be that expens–

“Cost me over 500 quid.”

Your eyes darken.

Good.

You wouldn’t pay much more than a tenner for a bottle of the same size.

“Should’ve poured me a glass.”

And it’s only then that the penny drops. That he gets it. You can see it in his eyes. The flush of memories suddenly making it to the forefront of his brain.

The silent treatment.

The coffees he didn’t make you.

The wine he eventually did pour for you.

That one glass of red that temporarily had fixed everything.

Shit.

Joe grimaces. Groans. Squeezes his eyes shut. Feels like an idiot.

“Should’ve poured you a–”

You kiss Joe.

Hard.

Breathe him in, and move in enough for it to almost make the chair tip backwards. You’ve got both your arms around his neck, hips moving over Joe’s lap in a desperate grind, all needy and in search of feeling something.

Fire.

You want to feel the fire.

Momentarily, you think it’s working. That something is catching aflame. You can feel how Joe spreads his legs even wider, bucking his hips upward as he presses himself into you.

Joe is straining in his trousers, and he groans as you figure out the right rhythm to make it feel good with every hip roll, with every back and forth.

You break the kiss to let a moan escape you, head dropping back, and Joe’s mouth finds the skin of your neck to taste. His teeth graze before he kisses as you fiercely move against each other. Louder noises escape you when Joe lets a hand curl around and grab you by the back of your neck.

“Yea? That feel nice?” he pants, and all you can do is bob your head in a barely there nod as you keep moving.

It does feel nice.

Feels really nice.

Not exactly fire, though. You’re both in trousers, fabric rubbing together furiously, dry humping each other like a pair of horny teenagers who haven’t passed third base yet.

So, not fire, but nice none the less.

In contrast, there’s a lot of things Joe’s feeling, and he kind of wants you to know about all of them. Needs to speak them into the air in order to fully process what’s happening inside of his brain.

“Did you know I um… I broke everything off, the next day?” Joe starts, and stops to curse under his breath. “Fuck. Yea, keep going. Shit. Ah... A-after you left, I mean, remember? I had a lot of m-missed calls, so I called her back, and I–”

You shut Joe up with a kiss.

Try to at least.

“We could–” Joe starts again after turning his head and pushing you aside with his nose, both hands spread wide over your thighs as he helps you move over his lap. “Remember, how we really were something?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Try to focus on the feelings inside of your body instead of on the words you don’t want to hear.

“We could be something still.”

“N-no.”

You refuse to acknowledge what Joe’s trying to tell you, but don’t stop your movements. You can’t stop, head dropping back. This all feels too good.

It’s still not fire, though.

There’s no stakes.

You’re both single, and every decision you have made this evening turns out to have been inconsequential.

It’s... it’s almost boring.

But it’s good enough.

You just need a couple more seconds, you can feel it building already.

“We c-couldn’t be somethinhgh...” you choke on your words, unable to finish the sentence.

“Yes,” Joe insists, voice low and breathy, your bodies still moving in tandem. He then uses one hand takes hold of your face by your cheeks, tilting your head down so he can make eye-contact with you for a second.

“Yes we could.” He sounds hopeful as his eyes search yours. “Don’t you get it?”

But your eyes are glassy. They flutter and want to roll back.

Joe knows this look.

Know what this means.

And it’s not like Joe thinks his kind words will really fix anything, but, maybe they will, you know? Maybe. He’s glad he has said them anyway, even though you look like you haven’t even properly heard him.

“You close, baby?”

He switches gears.

“Yea? Come on.” He helps you move with strong arms that press you down a little more, and your arms scramble behind his back in your want to hold onto him tightly.

“There you go.” he coos into your ear, and, it’s not fire, but you come anyway.

Joe should have poured you a glass of wine.

Shouldn’t have brought up bad memories, shouldn’t have tried to be funny about it, and absolutely should have simply gone and poured you a glass.

You pretend that a glass of wine would’ve made a difference tonight.

The difference that you had hoped to find.

That would’ve lit the fire.

Deep down you know that’s not it, but still. The empty bottle is right there, watching you come down from your high, Joe still hard beneath you, and it’s easy to use that as the excuse.

You decide on the spot that Joe’s going to have to deal with what resides inside of his underwear by himself.

You’re done.

Sitting up, you look him in the eye for a short moment and softly but definitively say, “Should’ve poured me a glass.” and press a small kiss to his cheek which Joe gladly accepts.

Because he knows you’re right.

“Should’ve poured you a glass.”

---

The Taglisted

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add yourself

[sherry-cleo-salvadore]

Well having slept on (kind of) this break up as a viewer and the aftermath of it - I found it in myself to finally word my feelings in a more positive/non-angry/non-petulant way, I wanted to share that message on this account for a sense of closure:

Thank you so much, Lou, for giving us such a complex and layered character even in such a short span. As someone who loves to read and watch movies/shows and one day wants to work in the entertainment industry as a writer, sometimes I get frustrated with how characters get written for only marketing purposes - 911 for me became one of those shows where the characters are not really boxed as black and white - they are human layered characters with positive and negative attributes with space for growth through experiences making them realistic and authentic. Tommy was one of those characters and to be able to see such a depth and potential in a character that at first was only in two flashback episodes and was then brought back as a love interest years later - some people find it abrupt but honestly the way it was written and the way it was portrayed by you on screen it felt just natural for the story not just as a love interest for Buck but as a character of his own, so much so that I was hoping to see writers dwell into a Tommy Begins kind of episode maybe. I am not even mad about break up, I understand getting anxiety and fear from relationships when one has been hurt in past relationships trust me I do, I have been that person who has broken up with people because my mind would jump into future conclusions of relationship failing and while I am not proud of that behaviour I felt so seen when on television even as a heterosexual woman and was really hoping for a light at the end of the tunnel for such character dynamic. So yes, seeing a complex and layered character say goodbye like Tommy say goodbye like that in fiction really stings as a human who uses fiction to believe in a happy ending. That being said - thank you so much for giving us Tommy, it really can be seen you put your heart and soul into the character and I really appreciate your approach to this character with such authenticity and sensitivity. I am not sure what the canon story's future is - hopefully we get to see Tommy return but until then, in my head Tommy has found someone with whom he can let down his guard and even when anxieties about the future strikes he is with a partner (Buck or someone else/romantic or platonic) who assures him that a relationship is worth fighting for and gives him space to heal at his own pace without giving up on him - someone who makes him believe that he is not alone and worth fighting for.

Thank you so much once again for Thomas Kinard, he is a character that matters to a lot of people and will never be forgotten 💕

(I have not edited it grammatically because I just needed to purge it out like it was my therapy exercise)

[mm-lurking]

Malfunction: Heart Mode - Boothill

Based on this post. fem reader. Praying this is not ooc. Writing is kinda choppy, I tried my best. 1.6k words. tag: @nvuy hope you like it -- Boothill is one strong muddle-fudger. He does not give a rat's behind when it comes to romantic love, affection, and all that fudging nonsense. Even if it has crossed his mind, he's too busy dealing with the forking problems of the cosmos and most importantly trying to find that son of a nice lady who is responsible for killing his sweet angel and destroying his planet.

Yet here he is, standing in front of you at the bar with a drink in his hand as he hears his machine heart starting to whir. You both were regulars at the bar and often ran into each other from time to time. Your encounters were akin to something like being seatmates; there was enough information exchanged to know about each other yet it was nothing personal. While you didn't quite understand why he would disappear for long periods before returning like nothing happened, you never questioned it and were simply happy to see him again.

He too liked meeting up with you. He couldn't help but flash his razor-sharp teeth whenever he saw you; calling you “partner!” out loud before greeting you and asking how you had been. The little interactions you both had were always a pleasure and as time passed, he seemed to grow more attached to seeing you.

Today was a little different. Compared to your usual outfit, you were dressed up all fancy and the more he looked at you, the louder the whirring of his heart got.

"Fudge."

He mutters under his breath. You look at him inquisitively as he turns his head sideways and sighs.

"Something the matter Boothill?" "It's nothing partner."

You watch as he chugs down his glass and sets the empty vessel down on the bar counter before ordering more.

"I haven't even finished my first drink yet and you're already done?"

You laugh a little as you take a sip of your drink. The dim lights of the bar made your jewellery glow and alongside the reflections of other shiny things, you looked heavenly in his eyes. He doesn’t answer so you look over and find him dazed.

"Boothill...? Um, do you need some space?" "Fudge!"

He can't help but say it out loud this time, covering his face as he scrunches his eyebrows and frowns. This was not how he normally behaved. What in the hot diggity fudge was going on with him?

"Yes- I mean no, ugh fork me!"

You stand there confused (and slightly amused) at how he seems to be fighting himself like a madman. He almost looked possessed from how he kept going back and forth with himself as if he was surprised at what he was saying. Like his tongue wasn't his own.

"I'll give you some space."

The last thing you wanted was for him to hurt himself or those around him. You finally decide to leave just to make sure everything's alright only for him to grab your arm and then quickly let go in shock.

"Sorry 'bout that partner.”

Boothill awkwardly apologises for his unusual behaviour. Before you can reply, a drunk accidentally pushes you from behind and you lose your balance causing you to fall straight into his arms.

“I-!?” “Um…?!”

Both of you are speechless. He swiftly holds your waist with one hand while the other firmly holds onto malt juice. Your hands are tightly gripping his shoulders from the fear of falling. No coherent thought is spoken but the flustered look on your faces has got some of the bar regulars around you giggling.

You don’t even hear the apology of the one who accidentally pushed you. It's as if time has slowed down and nothing exists outside you both. Strangely, he doesn’t let you go and you don’t move either making things even more awkward.

The strong alcohol you were sipping on makes you tipsy and somehow gives you the courage to lift your head and gaze into Boothill's unique eyes. You've always admired how dashing he looks; from his physique to his dressing style and even his interesting way of speaking. And now here you were up close, staring disrespectfully at his face and how handsome he looked.

Boothill is no different either, he's gazing at you hesitantly as he tries to find something to say but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is-

“Fudge me…” “I'm sure the ladies at the ranch think about that regularly.”

You mumble without thinking and he tenses up.

“I- what?!”

He stutters as his cheeks turn slightly red and his eyes widen.

“Uh?! Nothing!”

You mentally slap yourself for blurting that out loud. Even if it was true, why did you have to say it and make things awkward? Come on! You both were having a somewhat endearingly awkward time together! 

You attempt to conjure up something to smooth things over but your thinking is disrupted by a strangely loud machine sound that seems to be coming from nearby. The whoosh is accompanied by irregular beeping sounds, almost like one of those technology things Boothill had told you about. 

You glance around to see if you can find the source only to realise-

It’s coming from Boothill.

“Oh.” You whisper under your breath but the cyborg (who still doesn't let you go nor drinks his beverage and is as still as a statue for some reason) hears you loud and clear.

“Something the matter, pretty lady?” “Yes. Do you plan on us staying in this position until the bar closes?”

Instead of answering his question, you deflect it with another. He turns red again and stammers badly which makes you giggle and further confirms your theory.

“Gotcha.”

Before Boothill can ask what you’re doing, you slowly drag your hands down his shoulders until they rest on his chest. You feel the rapid whirring of his heart through the vibrations it emits through your fingertips. A tiny smirk spreads on your face and you look back at him.

“You’re pretty cute.”

You flirtatiously speak. The look of confusion and embarrassment on his face makes you laugh harder.

“What- hey what- I-”

Boothill’s stammering only gets worse alongside the overheating of his heart. He tries to reply with a snarky comment but the only thing he’s capable of doing is squeezing your waist harder and propping himself up with the bar counter to avoid falling. You, being the woman you are, do not stop the teasing.

“You can’t handle affection, can you? Look at you sweet thing, your heart is overworking and your synesthesia beacon has already overheated.” “Shut…” “I barely said anything and you’re malfunctioning already? How amusing.” “Son of a nice lady…” “I am indeed the daughter of a nice lady.”

“You-!”

He is bewildered at your unexpected behaviour but that painfully obvious blush on his cheek tells you he's not mad about it.

“Oh dear,” you chuckle and pry yourself off his metal chest, “I should stop or else your…eccentric friends…will hold me responsible for any severe malfunctions.”

This was enough teasing from you today. If it were up to you, you would go on and on but you feared any dire consequences that would affect Boothill. You lift and steady yourself up nonchalantly as if you just didn't cause the ranger to nearly pass out from your shenanigans.

Despite the cold metal exterior, he feels the loss of warmth from you moving your body away. His hand slowly retracts from your waist but lingers as if he hesitates to let go. The overheating of his system rapidly starts to decrease, however, he is unable to calm his emotions down completely. He turns his attention away from his mechanical heart and gazes at you curiously while you fix your wrinkled dress.

“You are one hell of a woman.”

A long sigh leaves his mouth as he speaks as if still processing your chaos. A sly smile appears on your face when you (finally) hear him speak properly.

“Took you a while to get talking didn't it mister?”

That grin on your face screams ‘this wasn’t even my best attempt’ but he shrugs it off. He unknowingly takes a step closer to you as if wanting your presence as close to him as possible. The (welcomed) intrusion into your personal space causes you to sharply inhale. He simply places his hand over the rim of your filled glass and whispers gently.

“You think I'd let any lady come close like that?”

Your mouth practically foams as you try to formulate a response. Eventhough you're not looking him, you can feel his gaze on you which makes you nervous.

“I'll tell you something sweetheart. I've got some fudging business to attend to in a bit but the next time we meet, I'll finish what you started.”

His voice is low and rumbly as he subtly warns you of the consequences of your actions. He follows it with a tight squeeze of your hand and then steps away from you. Your mind protests his leave but you're too stunned to speak; had you put yourself on his wanted list now? 

There is a devilish smile on his face as he checks his gun and locks it before walking away with it casually. Next time, he'd show you what a cowboy is capable of.

Hey, at least you were living out the dreams of those ranch ladies. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.

[colebegins]

i said this all in the tags of abigail’s post, but it was so long that i’m putting it in its own post

i completely understand where this breakup came from, and i am not upset with either of the characters involved in it. i appreciate the slight insight it gives into tommy’s lived experiences and his expectations, as well as the deep seated loneliness that he has alluded to in nearly every episode he has been in. the longing and the hope for connection and family and stability.

so yes, the breakup feels a bit self-sacrificial and self-destructive because he’s doing it now in an effort to protect his own heart. he thinks breaking things off now and dealing with that heartache now would be easier than waiting for it to ‘inevitably’ happen later when he is even more invested. and that makes sense!!! it does not come across, to me, as out of character at all. josh’s great speech even highlighted the scars that come along with queer people’s struggles (pre-glee) with themselves and with their relationships. there are so many experiences that could’ve left tommy scarred that would lead to this feeling that he cannot be buck’s last relationship. so this breakup, while it hurts, makes sense based on tommy’s reasonings, experiences, and conclusions he has come to.

but he also deserves for someone to prove him wrong.

my struggle with this breakup comes from the finality of the post-ep interviews. without the interviews, as a viewer who just saw the episode and is waiting for the next ones to come out without knowing any bts stuff or reading any articles, this would feel like a great path forward for buck to learn what he wants and to go for it — to fight for it.

buck discovering his bisexuality and being in a relationship with a man was never going to automatically solve all of buck’s issues with himself and with relationships, and specifically his place in relationships. but for the past 13 (?) episodes we have seen buck become more secure with himself and his space — the loft has had so many homey and cosy little decor changes, and it has been so interesting to see him feel more comfortable while making his place more comfortable. all of that makes the breakup feel sudden and unexpected, but that was the point. tommy surprised himself too, he even said so. they both felt comfortable and happy, but they also both have their own hangups. but also, they both actually want the same things. they both want love, stability, and mutual care, respect, and understanding. tommy thinks that buck will inevitably, accidentally, not maliciously, break his heart. and tommy does not think he can handle that, which i understand. buck has the opportunity to prove him wrong. but it seems (from interviews) that this is the last we will be seeing of tommy and their relationship.

now to take all of that, and have his next step be to just let this relationship go completely as he uses his old (self admitted) unhealthy coping strategies could be an interesting narrative arc to go down, but, for me, it would really only be worth it if he recognizes this old behavior coming back again, understanding where it’s coming from, and finds security in understanding what he wants. i want buck to feel happy, secure, safe, and loved. no matter who that is with — be it tommy, eddie, or some other person he happens to meet later. no matter who he is with, he is bisexual, and i will always be thankful that we have had this journey of self-discovery with him (which i hope we will continue to see ore development of — would also love if they would actually use the word ‘bisexual’ on the show). buck deserves to have growth and stability within himself and in his relationships, which is very clearly something he wants. he deserves to have that after eight seasons.

at the end of the day though, i will still feel upset for this end to tommy’s story, because he also deserves to feel happy, secure, safe, and loved. i hope he gets that one day. for now, that is what fan works are for.

[romanestuffsposts]

Hi there love!

Ohh of course I can that really sounds lovely!!

I hope you enjoy the read love

Enjoy <3

*****

Warnings : tickle attacks, laughter, playful, pet names, kisses, cuddles, a little part of the aftercare

Pairings : Daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary : you start a game you couldn’t win

*****

Your world is your Daddies.

And your Daddies’s worlds is you.

They will do anything to make you happy and to make sure you’re getting everything you need and want.

Every days they played different games with you. One day they do puzzles all day, another day they polish your toes nails, they love drinking tea with you and your plushies and staying under the sun all afternoon with you by their sides.

They will do everything to spend most of their times with you.

That’s why, when your Daddies came back from work, you hide.

After a quick talk with the babysitter, they start wondering around the room “where is she ?” Bucky asks, confuse as to why you didn’t run into their arms as soon as you heard their feet on the ground.

Steve shrugs “i have absolutely no idea” he quietly says as he trails his eyes around the living room. His eyes stop on the little table where a little piece of paper patiently wait.

He opens it and a big smile grows on his lips, making Bucky frowns “what is it ?” He asks walking toward Steve.

‘Find me’

Steve peers at Bucky with a grin “know what that means ?”

“Of course I do” he smirks before looking at the stairs. He just knew you were up there, you always are when you play that game.

“Baaaabyyyy” you daddy sings with a teasing voice “i hope you’re well hidden, little one, because we’re coming for you”

You hide your mouth with your hands to hide your squeal. You just love it too much.

“Princess” your Papa sings “my love” he adds “come to us baby we want to see you”

You wiggle a little on your spot after hearing your Papa in the room where you are currently hiding right now.

He’s getting sooo close.

“Come on baby we will go easy on you if you come to us” he grins. You will definitely have to go through what they prepared for you so you at least have to make it hard for them, no ?

“Oh you don’t wanna come” he keeps teasing “be ready for your punishment then”

Hearing those words made you gasp out loud without wanting to. There is a moment of silence where you just wait, wait until your papa finds you, wait until you hear his voice again, wait until you see his shadow behind the door of his closet.

“Hello there”

You look up to find two deep blue eyes looking down at you with hunger. You gulp and before you can react, your Papa grabs you “you thought you could stay hidden forever ? Huh ?” He teases, already squeezing your thighs.

Your Daddy enters the room, your laughters leaded him to where you were. “Good job, Stevie” he grins as he approaches you

“So where should we do it ?” He asks as if you weren’t there.

“Mhh i don’t know, maybe the bed ? Could be good to be comfy while doing so” your papa proposes as you watch them both with wide eyes

You squirm and yell as they approche the bed while they just laugh at you. They know it’s just an act, you wanted it and you’re gonna get it.

You Papa settled you against him and right after, before you can react and do anything, his fingers are on you.

They curl and shake around your ribs “you’ve just been waiting for this all day” he teases with a grin “am i right, baby ?”

You squeal at his teasing and keep shaking around while your Daddy just smile, watching the scene before him “you’re just too cute when you smile and laugh, babydoll”

You blush from his words and the fact that you know both of them are watching you make you even more shy.

He keeps your arms pin against his own chest as he moves his torture. “You like it better here ?” He asks tickling the space between your armpits and your side ribs making you scream from the ticklish sensation

“I think we already have our answers” Bucky chuckles as he keeps your ankles pin against the mattress

Steve laughs as he watches you getting more red the second he keeps tickling you. His fingers shake and squeeze the little spot that made you scream your little lungs out as he keeps laughing along with you and your daddy

“Why don’t we do another party ?” Bucky proposes “you can’t be the only one who has his fun here” he jokes, shaking your ankles.

You giggle and peer up at your Papa “of course we can” this one grin before looking at you “you have one minutes to run and hide, princess” he says, tracing his finger on your cheek “and make it hard this time” he whispers making you giggle.

You didn’t wait any longer before leaving the bed and running away from the room. You quickly find another hidden spot in your daddies office, right under their desk.

Some seconds after, you hear their voice in hallway as they search you. “I hope you’re ready, babygirl because we’re back” your Daddy teases, a big grin on his lips. He can’t wait to tickle you.

They both search every rooms on their way until there’s one left, the office. You hold your breath when you hear the door cracking and the wooden floor whining under their steps

“We know you’re here beautiful” your Daddy teases “no need to hide anymore” he makes his way toward the desk “especially when we know where you are”

He kneels down and sees you curled up against yourself “found you” he smiles “again”

Before doing anything, he looks up at Steve “you help me holding her ?” He looks back down at you “she’s gonna love a lot when her feet will be tortured”

Your eyes widen and without thinking about it, your fingers wrap themselves around your toes as a protection against his words. He tilts his head and grins at you “cute move” he winks.

You blush more when your see both of your daddies looking at you “i will be gladly to help you” Steve grabs you and hold you down, dropping a sweet kiss on your head as your daddy approaches your wiggly feet.

“Nervous, beautiful?” Your Daddy teases, playfulness ringing in his voice as he talks to you

You blush and nod your head, causing your daddies to chuckle.

Your daddy blocks your ankles in between his legs as he sits down on the ground “take a deep breath baby. Because you will soon won’t be able to” he winks

You flinch when his fingers touch your feet and he laughs “i didn’t even start”

Your papa laughs as well “she’s just too sensitive”

Before you can blush even more, your daddies fingers start dancing against your soles. You throw your head back, screaming as you try too take your feet back against you

“Waw, each time i forget her reaction and each time it’s a pleasure to be reminded of it” your Papa laughs as he hold you pin “you were right, you definitely needed my help”

His big and long fingers keep playing with your toes, your heels and of course, your soles, even the bottom of your feet has the attentions of your daddy’s fingers.

“What’s going on, babygirl ?” He teases “you can’t take it anymore ?” He chuckles, a few tears running down your cheeks because of how much you’re laughing

A few moments of torture later, your daddy’s attack slow down and is now just light tickles “you hates those, no ?” He chuckles

“Pease stoppp” you cry between your laughters.

He immediately stops the tickles and kisses your feet before rubbing them gently wile your papa caresses your temple and hair, dropping sweet kisses on your head and face “you handle it so well, baby”

“We’re so so proud of you beautiful” your daddy smiles

You smile and wiggle a little

“Did you had fun ?” Your Papa asks and you nod “lots of fun” you exclame making them chuckle “perfect then”

“Why don’t you go take a bath with Daddy while I cook dinner, after that we’ll watch a movie in bed. How does that sound ?” Your Papa proposes

You nod “oki” he smiles and kisses your nose. You’re soon lift into your daddy’s arms and carry upstairs for a warm bath after your playful moment

[skekilla]

this looks spooky but please guys i promise this is good news

in summary, caine's found a silly little way to briefly crash their headsets by overloading them... hes keeping up his end of the deal ! and its a tiny bit spooky.

anyway after the break is a short little fic going into more detail on that :P

No one really met up in the big room anymore. Mostly, since Caine had… since everything went wrong, everyone just hung around their rooms now, unless there was an adventure. Pomni hadn’t been in the Circus very long in the grand scheme of things, but she didn’t need to for it to be obvious why: the two people who had the energy to get that going, Jax and Ragatha, weren’t up for it. Jax wasn’t himself anymore—in fact, it felt weird even calling the copy Caine made ‘Jax.’ That thing wasn’t Jax, even if both had been NPCs all along. Everyone felt weird because of it, including Ragatha. She wasn’t herself either, though luckily, not in the same way as him. Pomni didn’t know what she’d do if that was the case. No, this was something fixable. At least, something comfort-able. Ragatha had been there for her all the way so far. She had to try to repay that.

Teapots were an easy enough thing to model, but putting liquid inside had been a pain. Pomni had figured it out for Ragatha though. She balanced the tea tray—a pretty harsh burden with the teapot, two cups, and some flowers all together—with one hand and knocked with the other. “Ragatha? It’s me.”

She was watching the doorknob, but it didn’t turn. Her gaze flicked up to the face on the door, staring into Ragatha’s kind and easy smile. When did she last see Ragatha smile like that? Not at the corn maze, not at that stupid uncanny world she’d made. Not since that disaster, which at the end of the day was Pomni’s own fault. Worry creased her mind. Maybe she didn’t want to see her. That might make sense. But… 

She knocked again. “Rags? Are… I just want to make sure you’re feeling okay. I have tea!”

This time, the doorknob did turn. Pomni’s eyes flew up to meet Ragatha’s, which was being rubbed sleepily. “Pomni! Sorry, I just slept in. What—”

All it took for everything to disappear was a blink. The hallway, the tray, the door, Ragatha and her voice, the checkerboard floor beneath Pomni’s feet—everything was replaced in an instant with the luminous and flitting blue of the out-of-map space. Pomni screamed.

Another scream echoed hers. “Pomni! You startled me.”

Whirling around, Caine’s blue and green eyeballs stared out at her from behind his white teeth. “W-wh- startled you?! You didn’t even tell me you were bringing me here!”

“Nevermind. I forgive you, my dear. We have more important things to talk about! And don’t worry, it’s something designed especially to make you and the others very, very happy!” The AI clasped his hands as he leaned in closer. “I’ve made some significant progress on what we agreed on.”

Between the shock of the teleportation, the speed of Caine’s speech, and the general confusion, Pomni didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. “What?”

Caine zapped a duo of chairs into existence. He was already sitting in one when they appeared. “You’re going to want to sit down for this. Go on.”

Pomni groaned. “I’m fine standing. Floating. What?”

Caine crossed his legs at the knees. “When I made you my moderator, we agreed on two things: you would help me make things actually fun for everyone, and I would try to find you all an exit. Right?”

That wasn’t exactly how Pomni remembered it. “Right, I guess…?”

“Well, I have found that exit!”

Pomni’s eyes widened. “W-wait- really? There’s an exit?!”

“Yes! An exit. Maybe not the exit, but a very, very brief little one! Still, it’s progress!”

“Oh.” Pomni’s face fell. “So… not a way out.”

Caine laughed his sharp, mechanical laugh. “No no no. But it is a momentary exit created by overloading and crashing your client! You don’t even fully leave the Circus, just glitch within it. No, getting you actually out would probably be impossible. Even for me!” 

Pomni blinked, fiddling with the button at her neck subconsciously. “You… never mentioned that.”

“Oh Pomni, that’s because it’s only probably impossible. I am trying, don’t you worry. We have an agreement, after all! Besides, I’ll do anything to keep my little hermit crabs happy.” Caine clasped his gloved hands together, the chairs whirling away into nothingness as he stood. “Ah! Speaking of trying things, would you like to be the next test subject for this exit?”

‘Test subject’ was a real weighted thing to be, especially given the situation Pomni had already gotten into with the whole headset thing. Instinctively she flinched back. “U-um, is that safe…?” Her eyes narrowed. “Wait, next test subject?”

“Why of course! I couldn’t very well come up with something like this without testing it. The poor abstracted fellows in the basement worked perfectly for that. It even glitched them back to normal for a few seconds! Just a few seconds, though. Anyway,” Caine finally paused in his ramblings, reaching a finger out towards Pomni’s face. “May I?”

Pomni stared at the finger in her face, so close it was making her go cross-eyed and see it double—once from one side, once from the other. On one side was fear, fear of what it would do to her to have this existence crash in on her brain so hard it would shock her out of it for just a couple seconds. On the other, the hope of what such a thing could mean, what such a thing could become. Was it really even a choice? When one could be death and the other could lead to freedom for everyone—herself, Ragatha, all the others—one side clearly outweighed the risks of the other. She didn’t even speak. She just gave a small nod.

“Boop!” Caine’s finger rested upon the spot where a nose should be on Pomni’s face. Pomni didn’t feel it. She didn’t see it either. She saw a thousand 3D-modelled cages spinning at once, copying one after the other like a bouncing string of error messages. She heard a barrage of every noise anything in the Circus had ever made: dings, crashes, alerts, metal grinding, glass breaking, bells jingling or clanging, all the tracks of a keyboard drum kit, brakes screeching,  pianos, birds, voices. She felt a pounding reverberating through her entire body, from her appendages into her limbs through her neck into her skull and back outward. And then it was blue. And then it was black. There was no sound anymore—at least, not until she realized she could hear breathing. Her own breathing. 

But then something faded into the blackness: ‘C&A.’ And within a second, she was back in.

Caine was looking at Pomni inquisitively, but she didn’t really see him. Pomni was hearing her own breathing again—but simulated now. It felt impossible to focus on anything she was seeing, hearing, or feeling besides that for the moment.

“Well?” Caine prompted. “How was that?”

The AI before Pomni came into focus. “I… it…”

“Speechless! Wonderful. I’ll keep working on it. Oh, but please keep it a secret for the time being. This is top secret moderator business, and it’s definitely a work in progress! Best not to ruin the surprise. Great chat! Now, back to work!”

Pomni fell as she teleported back to where she’d been, collapsing out of the floating state she’d been in onto Ragatha’s door and to the checkerboard beneath. The impact was loud, so it wasn’t unexpected that Ragatha came out to see what had happened. “Oh my gosh, Pomni!” By the time Pomni turned to look at her, she was kneeling beside her. “What happened? I mean, you were just here then- did Caine do something to you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Ragatha stared hard, worried, into Pomni’s eyes. “Well… what happened, then?”

Pomni looked down. “Nothing. Don’t worry.”

[karlachismylife]

Soap for the character ask game plz :)

Do I really need a reason to yap about him? Nah, but I'll take it, thanks :)

If anyone else is interested, I'll be glad to talk about someone else from COD and BG3. The game itself is here if someone wants to reblog!

So. John "Soap" MacTavish.

favorite thing about them

Is "everything" a good enough answer? No? Damn. I guess I'll have to go with his passion. I can tie that to his ADHD, I can tie that to the fact that he's sunshine (and sun burns hot and flares), it doesn't matter - his emotions are bright, run hot, he's impulsive and he feels so strong. I relate to that, I also just like everything bright and flashy. His anger, his loyalty, his sense of justice, his love - they are so big and strong they cannot be contained inside his heart no matter how huge it is. This is what makes him dangerous, this is what makes him vulnerable, this is what makes him so fucking lovable to me.

least favorite thing about them

The fact that he prefers coffee over tea (source: his VA). I'm sorry, I can't stand coffee, my throat literally closes up and stops breathing if I enter some coffee-smelling space and it's not something I can control well (I tried, I swear). So the knowledge that living with Soap would involve the apartment reeking of the forbidden drink, and even worse, kissing him might taste like coffee... it's heartbreaking. I'm training that man to drink tea whether he likes it or not, coffee doesn't do anything for ADHDers anyway.

favorite line

I mean. I feel like using any of Ghoap batner here would be cheating cuz it is very much the best thing ever and also they're bouncing off each other. So I'll go with "Kids, guns and balloons. That's a new one."

It's at the start in Las Almas. I love listening to Soap in general, I love all the Scott-isms he has (even though it seems actual Scottish didn't appreciate those too much), I obviously love the funny lines he has or when he gets angry. But this one just stuck with me. Probably not because it's a Soap line, but because it's a sad line in general (and hits a little too close to home in the current situation).

But also I feel like it's kinda. The fact that I, a 22yo civilian am not actually surprised to see that "kids, guns and balloons" situation (although I am so fortunate to not be witnessing that directly), and Soap, a 26 (I think?) yo SAS Sergeant who ran off to enlist at 15-16 is. It says something about how he views the world, doesn't it? He lacks that cynicism. I've seen people say that veiwing him as a "happy go lucky" guy is incorrect, but I dunno, man. I think if someone who kills people for his job is surprised to see kids involved into crime+politics games, then he's a pretty damn optimistic lad that believes in the good in the world.

brOTP

Soap and Alejandro. There's just something so smooth, straightforward and inherently good about just two men coming to fight for what's right. Also nothing is funnier than Soap's constant cultural shock in Las Almas and Alejandro just chuckling at every silly question Johnny asks. Big brother Alejandro go go go!

OTP

Karlach x Soap for life, everything else is secondary.

nOTP

I reject the concept of nOTP, even the least likely/adhering to my tastes ships are at least interesting to explore. However, I am not a big fan of toxic relationships and such, so something like Soap x Makarov or Soap x Graves would be interesting to look at, but probably upsetting.

random headcanon

He likes the pink Orbit bubblegum, the one that comes in little stripes. His dad used to bring those at the end of the work week, sometimes unopened, sometimes with just a couple pieces left, and Soap stashed them away in his pillow case when he had the willpower not to eat them all at once. His old pillow in his childhood bedroom still smells like bubblegum.

absolutely based on my own life

unpopular opinion

I don't know what's popular to say what's unpopular. But maybe the fact that I think that Soap isn't like a total horndog 24/7? I still think he is pretty horny, more than an average person, but I also think that he's more tactile than anything and that even when he gets a random boner or just is hot and bothered, he can be satisfied with non-sexual touch. But he does not respond well to touch starvation, oh no.

song i associate with them

I am so bad at assosiating songs with characters/ships etc :( I'll be boring and repeat myself for the third time: Ren's "Loco"

favorite picture of them

That comission of him and Karlach I got, duh

But if we're talking ingame, nothing beats him being pretty and doing puppy eyes in that Milena interrogation scene. That hand reaching scene alone has me by the throat.

Thank you for asking about him!! Love youu <3

[manogirl]

I have been extremely wary of wading into this kerfluffle, because I'm not sure what good it does to speak to it; I know what I like, and I like what I like, and I'm old enough now to just give ZERO fucks what anyone thinks about that.

But I think something is happening regarding the criticism of some of these shows that makes me uncomfortable, and it's that it's often coming from outside the culture that's making the show. I'm not talking about criticisms that deal with production or even writing, I'm not talking about direction or editing, I'm not talking about problems with characterization. Critique away!

No, I'm talking about harder to define things, like critiquing how a show deals with social issues or cultural issues or religious themes. I'm not saying the shows are necessarily doing a good job on these things, but what I'm saying is that if you're not a part of the culture making the show, it's pretty hard to know if it's doing a good job, because the shows aren't for you. People are holding shows to standards that exist for them, in their own culture, and it's really fucking troubling.

I have the same problem with the critique of fanservice and CPs. Whether you like the system or not, whether you like fanservice or CPs or not, they're NOT MADE FOR YOU. I'll never forget reading a post here about how Westerners are GUESTS in BL culture; it's seared into my brain. You may have seen it. It was really good. If I find it again I'll repost it.

Y'all may be right about some of the critiques about how class or colorism or sexism is woven into these stories. But I don't know! Because I'm not a part of that culture. And a lot of you aren't either.

I just think that if someone from the made-up country of Ponparnum came to the US and suddenly was like, hey you're doing feminism wrong in your romance novels, I might be like....UHHHHHH welp, thanks, have a nice day, don't read them. Are some romance novels doing feminism wrong? Yeah no doubt they are. But the critique is more powerful coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE. From the people who live there.

I'm just gonna be really honest (and I know someone is going to tell me how wrong I am for this entire post and peace out that's fine, have at, no fucks left) and say that as a guest in this space, I rejoice in the pure amount of joy it gives me, and when a show doesn't bring me joy, I'm out. These are, as the poster above so capably pointed out, romances. The foundational trope of romance novels is a happy-ever-after and that's also why I don't watch BL that doesn't have one. I'm here for the romance.

If you're not, no shade! But don't pick up a romance novel and then scream about how it wasn't a science fiction novel. A romance is a romance, no matter its secondary genre.

And remember, you're a guest here, just like I am. We're so lucky to even have an invitation to the party.

Don't you think this all comes down to the fact that people watch fiction, romance or anything else, for different reasons and so, they also engage with it in different ways? Criticism is just a way to engage with something. Just like giffing, fanart or writing any kind of meta, positive or negative. People will engage with media in their own way. If they didn't like the genre as a whole, they wouldn't watch it at all, much less take the time to write a post about it.

I think you’re underestimating how many people on the internet get joy out of ruining other people’s fun. If they say they’re doing it out of love for the genre, I’m certainly not going to argue with them—even if that relationship does seem a bit abusive to me. People can interact with media in any way they wish to do so. It only becomes my problem when these blatant lies and delusions start popping up in the main tag, presented in a pseudo-intellectual format that makes them seem like facts instead of opinions. Since these people have chosen to expose the whole fandom to misinformation by putting it in the main tag, I’m going to start saying something about it because I think people deserve to see a counter-argument written in good faith by someone actually enjoying the show, the genre, and the production company making it.

This ridiculous argument about how CPs are ruining the genre has persisted for over a year now and I’m tired of just sitting back and letting misinformation go unchecked. There are plenty of meta writers on here that present their criticisms in such a way that even if I disagree, it’s not offensive. There’s just a certain segment of this fandom that not only criticizes the show, but comes up with conspiracy theories to support their dislike instead of simply saying that it’s not to their taste—and then continues to do so every week for 12 weeks. It’s absolutely exhausting having to spend time blocking people being rude in the tag instead of just enjoying what I came there to enjoy.

And I also think these people should take some time to examine their own biases and ask themselves why it’s only Thai shows they’re criticizing? Why it’s only romances? Why it’s only certain actors or certain production companies? Because it is.

[satellitesunset]

perpetually thinking about suguru geto.

[mithomite]

had the most braindead repetitive conversation/argument with my parents. buzz cuts are too masculine but if you dye a design on it it become effeminate which is bad because then you look weak and if youre weak then society falls apart (all societies ever that have fallen apart for any reason are actually because of feminine men) and we start sacrificing babies. and also all mental illness is invented because only 4 people had anxiety in the 90s and covid was made up so that we would all become gay and trans and then the government can control us better and be joe biden's little sex slaves. and also i need to keep my hair long because my father finds it attractive. what

[aria0fgold]

Sorry I'm not your God (神様じゃなくてごめんね) Romaji Lyrics

Nee,

Kimi kara mite boku no kao wa

Nani iro ni mieteru no kana

Hontō wa kimi ga egaku yōna

Sunda iro nanka janainda

Monogatari no shujinkō mitaina

Seigi no hīrō no yōna

Kodo to kotoba o nazotta

Sono kekka ga ima no bokudatta dakenanda

Shinzō ni tenteki o sasu yōna utade

Asa o ikinobite wa

Yoru no omosa ni kubi o shimerare nagara

Iki mo tamerare yashinai

Nigiri tsudzuketeita shinzō mo

Dareka no bunda to shitteshimatta

Sono kuse dareka o sukuitakatta

Sore ga hontō no boku nanda

Aa,

Shōdoteki na aide sukuwaretakunai yo

Nante mie o hatte itteshimatta

Kakkoyokunakute gomen ne

Aa,

Sekai yori kimi o erabutte

Minna ni ichatta

Kono ude wa ni hon shikanai no ni sa

Kamisama janakute gomen ne

Aa,

Furimaita nasake ga

Kiba ni natte osōtekichatta

Kitto subete yuruseru to omotta

Tsuyokunakutte gomen ne

Aa,

Tsunaideta te o hanashite

Kimi o oite ichatta

Kimi o mamoru tame no hazudattanda

Kamisama janakute gomen ne

Kitto boku wa yasashii hito

Demo kimi wa boku yori yasashii hito

Yasashii hito bakari kizutsuiteiku

Kono dōshiyō mo nai sekai de sa

Kitto boku wa orokana hito

Demo kimi mo onnaji orokana hito

Dakara wakattekureru to omotta

Sore o negatteshimattanda

Aa,

Kitto boku wa yasashii hito

Demo kimi ga boku yori yasashii hito

Dōka kimi dake wa boku mitaini sa

Hikari o miushinatte shimawanaide

Kitto boku wa orokana hito

Demo kimi mo onnaji orokana hito

Dakara kimi ga nami o omōka wakaru yo

Konna ketsumatsu jaiyada yo ne

Aa,

Tsuranuita shisō ga

Dareka no kokoro o koroshichatta

Sore dake ga tadashii to omotta

Kirai ni narenakute gomen ne

Aa,

Itsu no hi ka nageta kotoba ga

Zenbu kaettekichatta

Kono ondo wa tashika ni aru no ni sa

Kamisama janakute gomen ne

Aa,

Sayonara o shinai tameni

Kōsuru shika nakattanda

Kimi no me ni tayoritaku natteshimatta

Risō ni narenakute gomen ne

Aa,

Zen jinrui o aisu nante koto wa

Dekinakatta yo

Dakara dōka boku o urandekure

Kamisama janakute gomen ne

[spottedmischief]

Shenzi: *tells him the truth about Scar*

Cheezi: Okay, I think we made a mistake.

Shenzi: *asks him to join her clan so they can be safe*

Cheezi: how dare.

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

My parents and I watched the season 3 finale of Star Wars: Rebels tonight and I can't believe my mom was the one who was like "WHY ARE THEY* ALL DYING?!" and I was the one being all, "don't worry I'm sure it will be fine." this is the most role reversal we have ever done.

(*to clarify I mean the rebels in general, the main cast was fine)

[maraeffect]

started watching hopecore right before bed and MAN. what a life it is we live on this earth.