#hunger games logo

[the-hanging-tree-on-fire]

It's the things we love most that destroy us

[warnadudenexttime]

The fact we got the orange side’s logo (maybe, idk if they have since redesigned it? I mean that merch is from 2021) before SHJSJSS the finale

Surprised yet expected, I’m once again somehow disappointed

[mariigoldzz]

[linacooper]

Help me!!!

Hi! This year has been full of changes for me. I made a very important decision to change my profession and become a designer in the future.

I really like people here and I know that you will not leave me and help me)))

The first step is to learn Photoshop. I need to practice a lot, for example: creating logos, covers for fanfiction or manip`s.

My first job is attached below. Please write, I will fulfill your request absolutely free!

[leviathanspain]

hii 💌 can I request some angst with president!coryo & victor!reader, same plot line as tbosas basically, he was once her mentor & now she’s his first lady

except the quarter quell with former victors happens earlier & he deliberately leaves her name out but she ends up volunteering instead

his first lady

coriolanus snow x victor!reader

synopsis: after years of hiding from the public, ashamed of your past and your husband, you discover the only way to end this, is with you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

he had lost his mind.

in the five years since your games, you had married the man who had given dr. gaul the ideas and tools to continue with the annual hunger games. he had also been the man to mentor you, showing you to an audience to get them to love you, simultaneously he fell in love with you.

he was powerful, you knew you couldn’t reject his advances, not while you were stuck behind the bars of the capital zoo. so you held his hand, listened to everything he said, winning as he promised you would.

only then did you hope that his attention on you would end, and you would be free to return home to your district, to put this part of your life behind…

except it haunted you, every day, every waking moment.

you never returned home, you never saw your parents again after being reaped, he became president, and you became his wife; his first lady.

and now, president snow stood on that stage, smile blazing as he announced that the fifteenth annual hunger games would reap its tributes, from the existing pool of victors.

he had truly lost his mind.

you gripped tigris’ arm as you watched coryo on the screen. he had just announced the changes, and you were left shocked.

tigris gulped, “i doubt he would leave your name in there.” she comforted you, “he would never do that-“ she paused, and you knew it was hesitation.

you stared at the screen, watching as the symbol of panem graced the screen, and you knew he would be home soon.

you shook your head, still in disbelief. you didn’t know what to think, coriolanus’ morality scale had gotten worse as the years went by and more power came, you were unsure what he would do to anyone, let alone you.

he loved you, more than you loved him. you never forgave him for what he did to sejanus, and coriolanus knew that, but he had made it known that as long as you were alive, he would never divorce you. his little loose end.

this could be the means to an end. if coriolanus was as smart as he was told, he would leave your name in, hope for the possibility to send you to your death, tying his loose end completely.

tigris stared as you grabbed the tv clicker, clicking the buttons to turn off the awful song that blasted with the logo. it wasn’t working, tigris tried to help you with it but your frustration over the games led you to slam the clicker into the tv screen, promptly breaking the screen.

coriolanus came home to a dark house. all the lights had been shut off, and he could still smell tigris’ perfume, lingering in the living room.

he set his bag down, taking off his coat and laying it down on the couch. he could see light emanating from the bedroom, and he could hear your soft singing.

coryo smiled, slowly walking down the hall, pushing the half cracked door open, seeing you on the bed. your nightshirt hung off your shoulder slightly, and your hair was loose. you looked beautiful, in the dim candlelight.

“my lady.” he greeted softly, bed dipping as he sat on his side. you turned, closing the novel you had been reading. you smiled softly, “coriolanus.” he frowned slightly, going in to give you a kiss, but you turned around to put your book away, effectively dodging his kiss.

“you’re upset.” he knew it immediately, you never called him coriolanus, not unless you were mad at him. usually he was called coriolanus every hunger games, as long as each games lasted. he had known eventually it would start up again, but this was far too early.

you didn’t say anything, opting to shrug as you stood up, pulling the sheets up.

coriolanus watched you get into the bed, snuggling into the snow white sheets, trying to avoid the conversation all together.

coryo stood up, removing his shoes and tie, “you saw the announcement.” he deduced, having put it together from the faint scent of his cousin’s perfume. “i didn’t want you to see it, i wanted to tell you myself-“ he kept undressing, and you sat up abruptly, “you had all morning to tell me what you had planned, but you let me go on about my day, let me think of you fondly and for you to announce that?!” you couldn’t help the tone of voice that you took with him, sometimes he was just irrational that not even you could get through to him.

he laughed softly, “so you wouldn’t have thought of me fondly if i had told you before the rest of the country?” he pulled the sheets on his side of the bed up, pulling them up to his chest as he turned to face you.

your back was resting against the pillows, arms crossed as you continued, “why would you do that, coryo?” your voice cracked, and his expression softened. one of his only weaknesses’ was you crying, whether it was someone else’s fault or his, it was a wretched weakness. “the victors are victors for a reason, why do we have to fight for our lives, all over again? hmm, haven’t we done enough?” you felt tears on your cheek, and you sniffled slightly.

coriolanus shook his head, “y/n, i took your name out.” he grabbed your thigh, “you won’t even have the chance of being reaped. you’ll just stand pretty on stage and watch the others get reaped.”

the others.

“you mean the children that i mentored to fight to the death and win?” you couldn’t see him through the puddles of tears in your eyes. you could only keep crying.

coriolanus stared, watching you sniffle and dab your tears away. he didn’t know what to say. this was his country, but you were his wife.

“just stand there y/n, they’ll be room for tears later.” he spat, and you stared at him in disbelief. coriolanus had become cruel, shrewd in his ways. this was a perfect example of one of the many ways he had changed.

you hauled yourself out of the bed, staring at coriolanus as you stomped out of the room. you had plenty of extra rooms in the house, and decided to go into one, leaving coriolanus to sleep in the bed by himself. he called after you, but you ignored him as you locked the door behind you.

you hadn’t seen so many people gathered in a long time. they stood in rows, long rows that seem to never end from where you stood. you stood next to the other tributes from your district, younger than you, eyes full of pain and sorrow.

the bowls containing their names were placed in front, one for the girls, and another for the boys. you knew your name wasn’t in there, coryo had said, ‘nothings changed’.

you listened carefully as the female victor was announced. valora grove, the young girl who you had just mentored this last hunger games. you watched as she hesitated to step up, face stricken with fear, this was happening to her all over again.

“i volunteer!” you panted, stepping up as you held a hand out, blocking valora from walking any further, “i volunteer as tribute.” you repeated, chest falling heavily as you stared out into the crowd, their faces displaying plain shock.

president snow’s wife, the first lady, the tenth annual hunger games victor, had just volunteered.

coriolanus must’ve just heard the news, because as you stood forward, accepting of what was to come, you were promptly escorted from the stage by peacekeepers, thrown into a car and driven straight back to the capitol.

coriolanus was furious, you knew. you knew your husband better than anyone in the world, better than his own family. he knew you well too, but you knew this was something he hadn’t anticipated, a small crack in his plans.

“you better hope i die.” was the first thing you said to him as the car doors open, coriolanus angrily gripping onto the handle. he stood there, fuming, “why y/n? why would you do that, you know that i can’t-“

“what? stop the games? of course not, that would make you look bad, coriolanus. but that’s exactly why i did it. you have no choice.” one thing that coriolanus had forgotten about you, was that you were smart, and usually, always one step ahead of him.

“i’m still a loose end, president snow.” you reminded him, stuck staring at his piercing blue eyes as his expression warped.

[lxndonorris]

racing surprise for Lando - Lando Norris (SFS24)

fem!reader x Lando Norris Theme: Smut (you've been warned) in the midst of pre-season testing, Mclaren invited you to surprise Lando x word count: 2710+ taglist: @game-set-canet another edition to the suit fitting saga 2024 (SFS24). Quite similar but I hope you like the added twist. Oh and I needed that picture so dont blame me. Next one will hopefully be este, and if you have any request, for SFS24, testing or simply something else, dont be shy and hit me up!

The air crackles with anticipation as the new season of Formula 1 looms on the horizon, heralding a fresh chapter in Lando Norris's illustrious career as a professional racing driver. With the promise of new gear, a state-of-the-art racing suit, a meticulously crafted helmet, and a gleaming Mclaren race car awaiting him, excitement pulses through his veins like the roar of an engine.

Amidst the flurry of activity in the Mclaren garage, you stand, a silent observer disguised as one of the team members. Dressed in the team's iconic orange shirt, dark pants, a cap, and sporting a headset, you blend seamlessly into the backdrop, your heart aflutter with anticipation as you await Lando's arrival.

He initially invited you himself to join him here, but you had to decline. Unbeknownst to him, his team has already reached out to you, preparing a surprise for your boyfriend. 

And then, like a whirlwind of energy and charisma, he enters the scene. Clad in his new racing suit, adorned with sponsor logos, he cuts a stroking figure. The fabric hugs his form in all the right places, accentuating his athletic build with precision and care. His curly locks framed his face, adding a touch of boyish charm to his rugged allure.

As Lando moves through the garage, his presence commands attention. There is confidence in his stride, a swagger in his step that speaks volumes about his self-assurance. He greets everyone with a warm smile and a handshake; his enthusiasm infectious. There is a genuine camaraderie between them, a sense of unity forged by their shared passion for racing.

With the assistance of two friendly mechanics who shield you from view, you watch as Lando prepares for his testing session. The air is thick with excitement and tension, a tangible buzz of anticipation that electrifies the atmosphere. The scent of his cologne lingers in the air, a subtle reminder of his proximity that sends shivers down your spine.

Each step Lando takes seems to echo purpose, his eyes alight with a belnd of determination and curiosity.

You watch from your vantage point, hidden in plain sight among the team members. As a conversation turns to the upcoming training session, Lando's demeanor shifts slightly. A curious, shy smile played on his lips as he listens closely. With a hand on his hip, he leans in slightly, his posture relaxed yet attentive.

There is a quiet determination in his gaze, a hunger to extract every ounce of potential from the testing session. He understands the importance of these moments, recognizing them as opportunities to fine-tune his skills and familiarize himself with the nuances of the new car.

You can't help but admire the way the fabric hugs his body tightly, emphasizing the curves of his backside and the strength of his arms. His movements are fluid and purposeful, each gesture imbued with quiet confidence.

With each glance, your eyes trace the lines of his suit, lingering on the subtle details that hint at the layers beneath. You know that beneath the sleek exterior lies a network of tight undergarments—fireproofs designed to protect him.

This knowledge adds an extra layer of allure to his already magnetic presence, heightening the intensity of your admiration.

As the conversation draws to a close, Lando offers a grateful nod to his mechanics. With a sense of purpose, he turns his attention toward the track, eager to put their plans into action and unleash the full extent of his talents.

With practiced ease, Lando slips into the remaining racing gear—his gloves and a tight balaclava—each movement deliberate and precise. The helmet, adorned with beautiful colors and logos, completes his ensemble, its glossy surface reflecting the glow of excitement in his eyes.

With a playful twirl, he settles into the driver's seat, his grin widening as he prepares to start testing. With a loud roar, the engine comes to life, and slowly but steadily, he makes his way out of the garage. Your stomach tightens in a mixture of anticipation and pride.

Through the crackle of the radio, his voice rings out, a symphony of exhilaration as he tackles each corner with precision and finesse. You listen intently, your heart swelling with joy as he pushes the limits of his Mclaren. You know he is so happy to be back, and you can actually see him smiling when you close your eyes. His voice is a little rougher, yet it carries his joy and passion through the radio.

Once his session is over, he returns to the garage. As Lando emerges from the cockpit of his Mclaren, he lets out a jubilant cheer with a triumphant flex of his arms. Shaking your head, you can't believe him actually doing that. Licking your lips, you still can't tear your eyes away from his arse, filling his suit fully.

The testing had been a success, and he surpassed all expectations. Running a hand across his chest, he can't help but revel in the rush of adrenaline that still courses through his veins. The fabric of his racing suit clings to him, damp with sweat from the intensity of the session—a sensational sight that you missed during the winter break.

In one swift movement, he reaches up to remove his helmet and balaclava, revealing a mop of tousled curls and a flushed complexion beneath. His lips part slightly with a satsified smirk, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes as he licks his lips, sending shivers down your spine. He looks so happy and excited, and you smile seeing him like that.

As he moves through the garage, shaking hands with his team members, he can't contain his joy. His tongue darts out playfully, a gesture of exuberance that shows his satisfaction with the achievements so far.

Lando chats with a few mechanics for a while, and you can tell the residual excitement from the testing session continues to surge through his veins, pulsating with every beat of his heart. He keeps stroking his chest, touching his arms, and subconsciously, he touches himself through his suit—just barely, yet it catches your attention. 

It is as if the adrenaline of the track has infused his very being, filling him with an exhilarating energy that seems to amplify with each passing moment.

Entranced by his every move, the sound of his voice, and his cologne's scent still hovering all around you, you miss the opportunity to reveal yourself—Lando has already left for his private quarters.

Leaving your headset and cap behind, you rush after him and spot him strolling through the paddock. Unable to tear your eyes away from him, captivated by the effortless grace with which he moved, you follow him. Every step seems to exude confidence, joy, and self-confidence.

As he runs a hand through his messy curls, you can't help but notice the way his hair fell in disarray, framing his face in a way that is both endearing and alluring. There is a rawness to his appearance—a sense of vulnerability—that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

And then, as if sensing your gaze, he runs a hand across his chest, a subtle gesture that speaks volumes about the excitement still running through his body. You can almost feel the electric energy radiating off him, a tangible reminder of the thrill of driving an F1 car.

In this moment, you are struck by the sheer magnetism of his presence, even though you're just looking at his beautiful back. And as he disappears into his quarters, leaving you to ponder the whirlwind of emitions he had stirred within you, you can't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration.

As you knock on his door, a nervous anticipation grips you, your heart pounding with uncertainty—how is he going to react?

"Coming." Lando's voice echoes through the door before it swings open, revealing your boyfriend standing right in front of you. With an almost shocked expression, your breath catches in your throat.

"Y/N?" He asks, and in an instant, his entire face lit up with a radiant smile that reaches his eyes, filling you with warmth and joy. 

"Hi." You smile shyly, your face flushing with heat. 

Without hesitation, he pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms enveloping you closely. You melt into him, running your hands across his firm back.

"What are you doing here?" Lando smiles, separating himself just enough for his face to be mere inches away from yours. He places a hand on your cheek, tracing your skin with his fingertips.

"Surprising you." You motion for a few Mclaren team members to film the two of you from afar. 

Both of you turn your heads and wave toward the camera. 

"They offered to get me here; we just needed a few clips for their channel." You shrug, and he nods in agreement and curiousity.

"This is great," he leans into you, kissing you gently. You lock eyes with him for what feels like an eternity.

The film crew gives you a thumbs up, telling you that it's now time for some alone time. 

As Lando welcomes you into his private quarters, a rush of excitement surges through you, mingling with the lingering traces of adrenaline from his testing session. Your gaze is drawn irresistibly to the contours of his chest, the fabric of his racing suit accentuating every curve and sinew.

He meets your gaze with a knowing smile, a spark of amusement dancing in his eyes as he senses the admiration and desire in your gaze. There is confidence in his demeanor, a quiet assurance that speaks of his comfort in his own skin.

"So, how was I?" With a playful grin, he steps closer, closing the distance between you until the warmth of his presence envelops you.

"Amazing." You lift your chin slightly, meeting his confidence with your own. "And you look the part too." Smirking, you lick your lips.

Without a word, he takes your hand and guides it to the fabric of his suit, allowing you to feel the sleek material beneath your fingertips.

"I know how much you like this on me," Lando breathes, locking his eyes with your own. However, you're unable to withstand his burning gaze and lower your eyes, following the movements of your hands instead.

As your hand traces the lines of his chest and arms, you can't help but marvel at the strength and resilience that lie beneath the surface. The fabric is cool to the touch, yet it seems to hum with the energy of the track, a tangible reminder of the passion and dedication that fuel his every movement.

"This feels so good." You breathe deeply while you keep stroking his chest, feeling his biceps, and watch his chest move with every breath he takes, eliciting a low rumble of pleasure deep down his throat.

"Fuck," Lando can't hold back a low moan, his hand now following yours closely, his body yearning for so much more. He leans his head back, embracing both of your hands now on his chest.

You know how much he loves to be teased, touched, and stroked. Effortlessly, you push all of his buttons and his most sensitive spots—his nipples, pecs, arms, and most importantly, his member filling his suit.

"Good." You whisper, leaning in to him, tracing the outlines of his stubble just above his lips. A shiver races down your spine, the rough texture of his beard contrasting with the softness of your touch. There is something undeniably alluring about the way his beard frames his lips, adding a touch of raw sensuality to his appearance. 

With each passing moment, the desire to feel the roughness of his stubble against your skin grows stronger—a primal urge that threatens to consume you completely. You lean in, brushing your lips against his in a tender caress. The sensation of his beard against your skin sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

With your hand on his crotch, he moans softly against your lips. Lost in the heat of the moment, you surrender yourself to the heady rush of emotions. Your lips meet in a fervent kiss, craving his delicious taste.

"Y/N." Lando murmurs, his hands now steady on your waist, holding you close.

"Care to give me a show?" You bite his lower lip teasingly, causing him to chuckle. "I want to see all of you in that." Tugging at the zipper of his racing suit, you stroke him firmer, encouraging him to show off.

"Of course." He giggles, and you settle onto the sofa, anticipation tingling in the air, thick with the electricity of the moment. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Lando takes center stage, spreading your legs to make some space. His movements are fluid and confident as he begins his private show.

With each flex of his muscles, his form seems to come alive, the contours of his body highlighted by the sleek fabric of his racing suit. He lets you feel his muscles tense, letting out more guttural growls.

"Very good." You smile, and with a playful smirk dancing on his lips, he turns around, giving you a tantalizing glimpse of his firm back and arse. He bends to show off his butt even more, much to your amusement. 

And then, with a sudden burst of energy, he begins to dance, his movements a mesmerizing combination of grace and athleticism. His hips sway to an invisible rhythm, and his body moves with a natural ease that shows off his innate charisma and confidence.

As he twirls and turns, the fabric of his suit seems to come alive as well, clinging to his form as he moves with effortless grace. With a slow and deliberate motion, he reaches for the zipper, his fingers tracing the line with teasing slowness.

As Lando slowly unzips his suit, his eyes never leave yours; their intensity like a flame igniting the air between you. His gaze is electric, a silnt invitation that sends shivers down your entire back. Hidden beneath his beautiful eyes lies hunger—a raw desire that mirrors the heat pulsating through your veins.

With each inch of fabric that melts away, inch by inch, he reveals the tight garments—a glimpse of the tight fireproofs. Easily, he slips out of the upper half of his suit, giving you a good look at his chest. His defined muscles barely conceiled, he flexes again, straining the fabric even more. 

Lando closes the distance between you until you feel the warmth of his body radiating against your skin. His gaze is never wavering, pulling you so much closer.

"Fuck." You reach for his chest, tracing the tangible outlines of his abs, as he licks his lips. With the sleeves of his suit dangling down his waist, he stands before you, his form outlined against the soft glow of the room, a vision of strength and sensuality that takes your breath away.

In that moment, as you drink in the sight of him, you know you want him. 

You motion for him to sit down right next to you, and right away, you lean in, kissing him passionately.

Lando embraces your body against his, and at the same time, your hand slips underneath his suit. His skin is warm and tight; all of the tension is showing its effect on his body.

"Mhmmm." He purrs into your mouth, one of his hands firmly on his length, bulging against his clothes.

In one swift motion, you manage to get into his pants and pull his member out of his clothes, causing him to moan in agreement.

"That would be so good, Y/N." Fully aware of what you're about to do, you keep kissing him while simultaneously running your hand up and down his length.

With every breath he takes, Lando lets out guttural groans before leaning his head back against the sofa cushions.

Looking into his eyes, you bend down and take him into your mouth. 

"That's what I meant." He swallows hard, running a hand through your hair.

Together, you easily catch up to each other's rhythm, moving as one. His husky, rough voice echoes through your mind as more and more drops of his taste cover your tongue. 

Then, his body gets stiff and rigid, and he holds his breath before letting go of all this tension, pressure, and desire. It feels so good. Letting out a long, breathless moan, he relaxes quickly, leaning back even more. You let go of him, licking your lips to savor the taste.

Lando fondles with himself for a while while you catch your breath.

"This was so good." You sigh deeply before a chuckle leaves your wet lips. He smirks, leans in, and kisses you.

"Thank you for being here." Lando rubs his nose against yours gently.

[sirianasims]

Chapter 44.7

I’ve already finished my coffee and dumped the cup in one of the ubiquitous recycle bins when Marten finally texts me back.

“Almost done, 2 mins.”

I sigh and lean against the large stone blocks. I’ve learned that two minutes usually means at least ten, sometimes more if he gets held up by one of the undergrads he supervises.

The trees have all exploded in vibrant reds and oranges, but there are surprisingly few leaves on the ground. Foxbury is all smooth cement and glass, almost too clean to feel real.

It wouldn’t surprise me if the university has a horde of employees whose only job is to pick up every single leaf as it falls.

I’m holding my phone like a shield as a couple of people glance at me, but not like they recognise me. More like they can tell that I don’t belong here, not with the way I’m hovering awkwardly outside the commons like a lost puppy.

The first time I got here after we started dating, I expected Marten to be waiting for me – actually waiting, on the steps of a building somewhere, or maybe even at the train station, happy to see me. Instead, I received a text with detailed instructions on how to get to his frat, as if I hadn’t just been there, in his bed, a week before.

Marten shows up eleven minutes later.

He kisses me on the cheek and it’s brief, distracted, like he’s already late for something else.

“You look nice,” he says.

That’s all. No ‘I missed you’, no ‘holy shit, you look incredible’. Just nice.

“Thanks. You look… official.”

He grins and straightens the jacket, Foxbury logo embroidered on his chest.

“I had a presentation this morning, some members of the board were there. Had to look the part.”

“I’m sure they were very impressed with you.”

He smirks. “Obviously. I just wish they wouldn’t schedule these meetings during the busiest part of the semester.”

He takes my arm and starts walking, back towards the fraternity. He’s still talking about the presentation, something about neural networks, and I rest my head on his shoulder and let his voice wash over me.

We’ve barely made it back to his room before his demeanor changes. As soon as the door closes behind us, cutting off the noise from his frat mates downstairs, the stupid jacket is gone and he’s pulling me onto his lap.

With Marten it often feels like I’m dating two completely different people. One is some sort of stoic intellectual, the other a very horny video game geek, and I never know which one will be in charge.

I prefer the geek, though. At least I know how to deal with that, and Marten’s intensity, the way I feel wanted whenever I’m in his bed, makes up for a lot of lukewarm texts.

We’ve barely caught our breaths before Marten picks his jeans up from the floor and wakes up his computer. The bed creaks slightly under me as I pull on my leggings, taste of him still in my mouth.

I observe him for a moment. He’s focused on his screens where the lines of code slowly scroll upward like they’re trying to escape the fingers flying across the keyboard.

The hair at the back of his neck is damp from sweat and the entire room smells like sex and body spray and warm, dusty electronics, but I shiver slightly, suddenly feeling cold and forgotten.

“So… is this what the weekend is going to look like, then?” I ask lightly. “Me watching you work?”

The typing doesn’t even slow down. “I told you I had a deadline.”

“Right. But I didn’t realise ‘deadline’ meant ‘silent retreat.’”

Marten sighs, wearily, like I’ve just asked him to solve world hunger. “I’m not ignoring you, Jules, I just need to finish this. It’s due Monday.”

“It’s Friday.”

“Exactly,” he says, still typing. “Which means Monday is very close.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “I could’ve just stayed in the city. Or at least brought something to do if I’d known I’d be third-wheeling your homework.”

Marten finally pauses, hands hovering over the keyboard like he doesn’t know whether to keep going or give in. “You came during midterms. What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d be excited to see me, spend time with me.”

He swivels in his chair to face me. “I am excited to see you. But I also have responsibilities. You know, like classes? Research? That little PhD thing I came here to do?”

“Wow, thank you for the explanation. I almost forgot I never went to university.”

“That’s not what – fuck, Jules, that’s not what I meant and you know it.” He rubs his eyes. “Can we not do this right now?”

“Right. I’m interrupting the genius at work.”

“Come on,” he mutters. “Don’t be like that.”

“Be like what?”

“Passive-aggressive. Like I’m supposed to drop everything just because you’re here.”

“I’m sorry having an off-campus girlfriend is so inconvenient for you. In the future I’ll make sure to schedule my affection seven to ten business days in advance.”

My words hang in the air. For a second, I think that maybe he’ll get up. Cross the room. Touch me, say something that sounds like he actually cares about me. But he just leans back in his chair, arms crossed.

“You know,” he says, an unpleasant edge to his voice, “not everyone has the luxury of taking selfies all day and calling it work.”

The room goes still, the only sound the faint humming of his computer fan.

“Excuse me?”

Marten’s expression changes – just slightly. Like he realises he stepped on something sharp but doesn’t know if it’ll bleed yet.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“Jules…”

“No, it’s fine. I get it. I’m just a stupid girl who posts stupid shit online. It must be so difficult for you to stoop to my level.”

“You know that’s not how I see you.”

“Do I, though?” There’s no real bite to my voice any more, just sadness. He exhales through his nose, voice softer now.

“Okay. Look. You’re right. This isn’t what you signed up for, I’m just extremely busy right now. Let’s go somewhere for fall break, just the two of us. I’ll take the whole weekend off, and you can pick the place.”

I almost make a snide comment about how that conveniently frees him from planning anything, but I hesitate. It feels like a peace offering made out of glass shards and duct tape, but it’s a peace offering nonetheless and I don’t actually want to continue the fight.

“Really?”

He nods. “Yes. Anywhere you want.”

“Okay. But where would…”

“Seriously, anywhere you want.” The chair squeaks as he turns to the monitors. The keyboard starts clacking and just like that, we’re back. Pretending I got what I wanted.

We don’t talk much after that. Marten is engrossed in his work and I start searching aimlessly on my phone, trying to come up with ideas of where to go, but I soon get distracted. I’m not sure how it happens, but I find myself scrolling through old texts. Paul’s name is at the top of my screen, like a bruise that won’t fade.

It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, though, and I find myself smiling at the stupid inside jokes and pictures we’ve sent each other. Even though he would call me almost every night, he’d still text me through the day, just telling me random stuff that was on his mind. There’s even a short voice clip he sent me while he was in the recording booth.

Just then, my finger slips, accidentally hitting the play button, but thankfully the volume is turned all the way down. Heart hammering, I quickly put the phone down and lie back on the bed.

The clattering of the keyboard stops and Marten clears his throat. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Just thinking. About where to go, I mean.”

I stare at the ceiling. There are a couple of old glow-in-the-dark stars stuck up there, probably from whoever lived here before. I can’t imagine Marten doing something so frivolous. One of them is peeling off, the sickly-looking green plastic at an angle. I wonder how long it’s been there, almost invisible and ignored until the lights go out, how much longer it’ll keep clinging on before it falls.

I really thought I’d feel safe. More in control, at least.

I thought I’d picked someone who would want me more than I wanted them. Someone who wasn’t so much bigger than me.

So why does it feel like I’m shrinking?

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[keiiaq]

𐔌del’s intro V2 ── ˚.🍨༘⋆

✧ ⁺˳ 　 and, oh, it's hard to see you

but I wish you were right here 　 ❀

welcome to my account ! I thought i'd make a new intro just to fit into my new theme. i'll be re-uploading and editing my previous posts to fit the new theme aswell, post requests are kept in mind and the timing will be slightly delayed but i'll try fill them in by some point!! ^^

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

˚ ༘ basics ೀ⋆｡˚

— my name is delina, however you can call me by; del, deli and dels

— im 15, so if you're 18 and over please do not interact with me or be creepy, I really do not appreciate it.

— I live in france and can fluently speak french nd english, I can speak polish well enough. but not as fluent ^^

— i've been shifting since late 2019, and I have been interested in manifesting in late 2023. other spiritual practices I do are: channeling, subliminal making, and shufflemancy. wish I could read tarot but sadly cant 🥲

— my hobbies are; drawing, manifesting, scripting, listening to music, and looking after my cat !!

— I love music, my cat, drawing, manifesting, subliminals, shifting, pinterest and baking. my favourite food is french toast ^^

ps; was going to add gradient to the logo, but almost crashed out since coding isnt my strong suit ...

˚ ༘ genres ೀ⋆｡˚

— currently my posts focus on things to script, my drselves, small trends and some things related to the shifting art community (cough, cough.. impersonators and stealers.. cough, cough...)

— im soon introducing digital art and more genres within shifting !! not sure when I will exactly. but I will introduce it some point ^^

— I do want to open a subliminal account on yt, however I know its easy to get videos taken down in that field or get your account banned so im a little hesitant !!

˚ ༘ shifting related ೀ⋆｡˚

— I have a post about my shifting journey so if you're curious, just click here

— my main dr's include: frutiger aero waiting room dr, mha hero dr, mha villain dr, saiki k dr, dork diaries dr, avatar snow clan dr, tbhk dr

— my other dr's include: harry potter dr, h2o dr, nge dr, hunger games dr, spiderverse dr, miraculous dr, teenage kraken dr (I loved the movie, its so overhated), genshin dr, little witch academia, grottys hotel dr - inspired by that hotel game made by grotty on rblx - the nostalgia omg.

— I started being in shiftok at early 2021, used to be an amino warrior around 2019 - 2020 🫣and in early 2025 I joined shiftblr !

˚ ༘ others ೀ⋆｡˚

— if you want to be friends, I dont mind 🫶🏻

— like I said, if you're 18 nd over, please dont interact with me as I dont appreciate it and I dont feel so comfortable with it.

— requests are open, however the posts will be a little delayed however I keep them in my drafts so I can finish them as soon as possible.

— if you have any questions abt shifting, you can ask me and i'll make sure to answer as soon as possible ^^

thanks for reading my updated intro and happy shifting my lovelies !!

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣

[monro3-rambles]

got bored with having 0 requests.... so have this ya minions

Coach Ukai x Wife!Reader — “Practice Makes Perfect”

It starts with a kiss over coffee.

You're in his oversized t-shirt — the one with a Karasuno logo faded from years of washing — and he’s freshly showered, hair still damp and wild. You’re just making breakfast, but to Ukai, you look like a reward he hasn’t earned yet today.

“You’re way too cute to be up this early,” he mutters, arms snaking around your waist as he presses up behind you. His voice is still a little husky with sleep, rough and lazy.

“Someone has practice,” you tease, reaching for a mug — only to have it stolen from your hand so he can turn you around and kiss you properly.

His kisses are always confident, always knowing. He tastes like mint and something sweeter — maybe you. Maybe he never really stops thinking about you long enough for the flavor to leave.

“We have time,” he mumbles against your lips. “I can be late.”

“You say that every morning.”

“And I mean it every time.”

His hands slide under the hem of the shirt — his shirt — gripping your thighs as he lifts you onto the counter like you weigh nothing. You gasp, but it turns into a giggle as his lips trail down your neck.

“We’re in the kitchen,” you whisper, but your legs are already parting for him. It’s the same playful game every time — you pretending to resist, him loving every second of it.

“Exactly,” he says with a grin, fingers slipping under your underwear with practiced ease. “New strategy: quick and effective. Like my serves.”

“Keishin!”

But your protest melts into a moan as he silences you with another kiss, deeper this time — all tongue and hunger and that signature Coach Ukai cocky heat.

Later, as you sit curled in his lap, shirt wrinkled, breakfast forgotten, he nuzzles into your neck and says:

“God, I love being married to you.”

And somehow, that hits deeper than anything else he said all morning.

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

omggggg hoped yall liked this

[mimasroom2]

Accelerating Fury pt 3

Pt 1

Pt 2

Guys I didn’t even realize they don’t use guns in the hunger games until I started writing what weapon Ellie would use….. only the peacekeepers use them. Interesting very interesting. Uh sorry I haven’t been active in a super long time. I take a lot of breaks from writing but I at least wanted to finish this series! Idk how many more parts to this there will be. I’m gonna skip some of the hunger games bc it’s not that important to explain ALL of it and EVERY SINGLE THING that happens. Probably 1 or 2 more parts.

C/w: Death. It’s the HUNGER GAMES LOL. Angst angst angst all the way until the very end. Hmmmm. More death but it’s not super graphic.

W/c: 4.9k

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

As you stand on the pedestal, the countdown grows fainter and fainter in your mind. You see Ellie across the way with her eyes locked on something just outside the cornucopia. She hasn’t looked at you even once.

You can’t stop looking around at your surroundings. How bold the gamemakers are for this arena. A whole ass city with numerous nooks and crannies and corners for anyone to hide in. You can see in the distance a bunch of shops with old logos your parents told you about. You’re trying your best to see if the gamemakers made it accurate to the old world at all, squinting to see if maybe there’s a hair dryer from this shop called Ulta that maybe you can choke someone with. You try turning your head the most you can, you don’t want to risk turning with your feet and misstepping. Now is not the time to be blown to smithereens. No matter where you look, none of the shops have anything in them. Then it dawns on you: it’s all abandoned.

Your jaw would drop, but you still can’t believe the madness of the situation. Suddenly, a big, booming alarm goes off that sounds like an air raid drill, and your feet are already hurriedly carrying your body away from where you stood before you even realize it. You swear it hasn’t even been 5 seconds, and you already hear the screams of the weak who fell victim to those at the cornucopia.

As you run away from the bloodbath at the cornucopia, you realize there are no ressources. What the fuck? You keep thinking to yourself as you run: There’s always a plethora of supplies in the cornucopia. That’s why it’s called the cornucopia. And the city and its stores have no supplies in them. What are we going to do? Do they expect us to murder each other with our bare hands?

As if on cue, a mix between a grunt and a scream catches your attention from behind you. You try not to stop running, but you glance back, and you swear what you see will haunt you forever. It’s Ellie - she’s straddling another tribute, hands above her head, knife in hand, blood spattered on her body, and a snarl on her face. She swings the knife back down into the throat of the male tribute she’s on top of. Even more blood squirts disgustingly out of his throat and onto Ellie’s entire face. By the looks of it, he’s dying pretty slowly, however he can’t get up or even move. Ellie quickly stands up and turns around. She’s leaving him a painful death.

She doesn’t even wipe his blood off.

Suddenly, a young girl runs up with a broken piece of glass behind her. Ellie swiftly cuts her throat in one motion. The girl collapses. Then another boy tries his hand at killing Ellie. So much for hands, you swear you see one of his fingers being cut off as Ellie uses her knife to stab and slash at his hand to make him drop whatever weapon he was carrying.

You’re stunned. It’s all too much. Your heart and feet feel planted and you can’t even move. That is, until you see another tribute quickly run by you. There’s no time to think, you run, heading toward the street where the clear view of the cornucopia ends. Before you turn the corner, you can’t help but quickly look back one last time at Ellie. She’s still killing people, but you realize her knife isn’t just any normal knife.

It was the same knife she used when you first met her.

~

A few hours have passed since the incident at the cornucopia. Your heart isn’t racing nearly as much, but the fact that you can’t even find Jesse to tell him what happened makes your head spin with worry.

You’ve realized after walking through multiple shops, all while being careful not to make any noise, that there are a few things scattered around here and there. Small things, never enough in one place. So far you’ve secured yourself a water bottle, a hammer, and some bandages. Definitely not the best you could hope for, but better than nothing. You catch yourself thinking about Ellie again. Do you think she’s got a shit load of more sponsors now that she’s killed half a dozen people? You actually weren’t sure of the count, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is she did it. And why weren’t you getting anything from sponsors? Was it too early in the games? Night had already begun to fall. Tommy assured you multiple times that everyone loved you. Even at your lowest, everyone was intrigued by you.

You scoffed to yourself. Even at my lowest, huh? Fucking Ellie. Why’d she have to go and say that. You felt so strange feeling mad about it. It was like a strange combination of disgust, disappointment, disbelief, and jealousy all in one. You wondered if this is what everyone else calls ‘angry’.

You decided to put yourself to good use and try finding Jesse… and somewhere to sleep. You were lucky enough to grow up in district 8, where at least you had a proper bed. You sighed to yourself. Going from the Capitol beds to probably having to sleep on the actual street was going to kill you.

~

As you wandered the streets, you didn’t see any sign of anyone else. You would think with all these blocks of buildings close together you’d be running into more people, but clearly not. Still, you held you hammer in your hands.

There was no more news of Ellie and even less signs of Jesse. You didn’t really know which worried you more. You also don’t know how long you’ve been wandering around for. Maybe two.. three hours? Judging by the sky. But you couldn’t be sure. The gamemakers could easily speed up or slow down the sky and other tellings of passing of time in here. You hated not knowing anything anymore. At least at home and in the Capitol people would tell you things, or you could just guess. But here, a guess isn’t enough. You have to be absolutely sure, or you may die.

At a certain point you have the bright idea of sleeping on the roof of a building. You’re not the best at climbing, but it can’t really be all that hard. Especially because it’s not a tree or anything. Plus, you have the amazing advantage of being able to see farther from higher up. A random memory from outside the arena lodges itself into your head. Didn’t someone else do that one time? Climb a pole or tree or something?

You find a nice building that’s not too high, but still offers you some nest-like qualities. You take your hoodie off and tie your three tools into it like a sack. You then tie the hoodie to one of the loops of the jeans they gave you. You start to climb, and try your best not to fall, placing your feet and hands onto where the windows and lopsided brick poke out to hoist yourself up. You wonder if Tommy’s watching right now. Watching you specifically. You wonder if he’s keeping an eye on Jesse. If he’s not already dead.

At this thought, one of your feet slide off, but luckily you have a tight grip with your hands, so all it does is scare you a little. You curse to yourself and finally push yourself onto the roof. You untie your hoodie and look at the view. It’s not the best ever, not by a long shot, but it’s dark out and you can still see pretty far away. You sigh and unpack your things from the makeshift sack. Luckily there’s a lot of room on the roof, and even though all the buildings are abandoned, everything is still pretty sturdy. You take the bandages you scavenged and place them down like a pillow, and use your hoodie as a blanket. Not too shabby. You’re pretty proud of yourself. For surviving this far. For not dying. Or killing anyone.

Just as your mind shifts to what you’d have to do in order to kill someone, a loud song starts playing. Startling you, you quickly sit up and see the projection Tommy told you about. It’s all the tributes that have died so far. Tommy told you it was a good idea to keep count. That’s what he did. His voice is in your head, saying: “…Let me know when it was over.”

As the pictures start appearing, you’re shocked to see just how many people have died already. Some thanks to Ellie, no doubt. The cannons start too, with each picture. Your knuckles tighten on your hoodie, you keep repeating in your head, “Not Jesse or Ellie. Not Jesse or Ellie.” You don’t pay attention to anyone else projected. Or any of the canons that seem just a bit too loud.

Suddenly, the whole thing stops, and you think it might’ve glitched, but it never turns back on. Ellie and Jesse and You survived.

~

You don’t even remember falling asleep. You just remember waking up, cold. And scared. You had a nightmare that Ellie was in her interview. She said the exact same things. But this time you couldn’t take it. You walked right past all the other tributes. Past the Avox blocking the way. You went right up on that stage and strangled Ellie. In front of everyone.

The nightmare ended there, but you knew what happened after was the worst part. The Capitol would punish you in ways you couldn’t even imagine.

You sat up to clear your mind. Thankfully, it was sunny out again today. A few clouds, but a nice, cool morning. You decide to get down from your roof, you thought about just waiting it all out, but decided that was an absolute shit plan. You’d probably end up waiting forever only to come down and be face to face with the strongest tributes left standing. Recipe for disaster.

After climbing down from your roof, you decide to go out and look for Jesse and Ellie again. You have no idea where your roof was. If you had to guess, probably a little northeast from the cornucopia? ‘Fuck if I know’, you think to yourself.

You decide to walk a little more east. Your guess is most of the tributes went super far north, to explore what was over there and to get away from the cornucopia. You break some windows to let yourself into different stores, if the doors are boarded up. You’ve found nothing really useful, a few screws in an old matchbox and some random cords you have no idea what to do with. You stow them away in a corner in case you need them later, but leave them behind.

Suddenly, your stomach growls. You’ve been hungry for the few hours you’ve been scavenging, but chose to ignore it. Most of the stores and buildings you’ve been to didn’t seem like they’d have food in them. But now, it was getting to the point where it hurt, and you were starting to feel lightheaded. When was the last time you ate? You think probably in the Capitol. But you didn’t have breakfast the morning you were brought here, and you didn’t even eat much the day before. So.. what does that make it?? Two days?

As you continue walking, you guess you’re probably heading as east as you can get. That shiny thing by the last row of buildings looks like a forcefield.

You decide to enter a building that looks like a mall. At least, it looks like a mall from what your mom has described to you. You wander around and see a sign for a store on the first floor that says ‘Boulangerie’. That sounds kinda fancy. Maybe they sell lingerie or something? You wander over out of curiosity, but you soon realize there’s a cake stand in the window.

HOLY SHIT.

You rush over and look around inside. It seems like it used be a little shop that sold food. You catch yourself. ‘Used to be’, as if the gamemakers didn’t fabricate everything about this. You scoff, and run your fingers along the vacant cake stand. Everything seems to be empty. All the shelves have dust and the displays are all gone. You decide to look in the back just to be sure. There’s nothing much back here either, some boxes and drawers. You look up to see another door you didn’t see before. You walk over and move the boxes that were in front of it out of the way. As soon as you successfully open the door, you see some baked thing inside plastic packaging. You gleefully rush over and grab one. Turning it over in your hands, you see it’s some sort of bread or roll. You realize it’s in the shape of a heart. Rolling your eyes, you tear it out of the plastic and take a bite. It’s definitely stale, but it’s a little sweet and seems to be pretty filling while not being all too dense. You smile to yourself, deciding you could survive off of bread for the rest of the games. During one of your hunts in an old office building, you found a satchel type bag. You can’t fit an entire box worth of bread in there, but you manage to take a few, about seven, and stuff them in without crushing them.

You want to look at the other stores in the mall, to see if maybe there’s more food or some better tools than a hammer. You exit the Boulangerie, and you’re about to walk across the way to another store when you hear glass break.

Stopping in your tracks, you turn around to face the entrance of the mall, and, to your horror, you see a group of three tributes slowly walking towards you. You see that they’re not careers, but still, they’re all holding weapons, and you’re sure they’ve seen you.

There’s two girls and one boy. You recognize the girl in the middle as the female tribute from district five. She’s holding a machete. Where the fuck did she find that? The male is holding a bat, and the other female has only a shield in her hands. You deem the first girl as the ‘leader’, and she’s slowly walking towards you.

She makes a clicking noise with her mouth, as if she were calling a cat. “Cmere angel, we’re not gonna hurt yah.”

You’re scared out of your mind, but your mouth says differently. “That’s not even my name.” You retort, slowly backing away, “And what a fucking cliche thing to say.”

As soon as those words come out of you, you regret it, because in a blink, the whole group starts running at you.

You turn on your heel and run away, quickly going up the stairs to the second floor of the mall. The building is massive, but you haven’t had any time to explore it, so you really don’t know where you’re going. You turn left down a hallway and into what looks like a small gym. They’re not hot on your trail, but running makes enough noise, and the building is designed to hold a lot of people, so they can easily see you pretty much wherever you go.

You zigzag in and out of the work out machines, trying to lose them so you can hide somewhere. It works a little, but with three of them they’re all trying different routes to get to you.

~

Eventually you find what looks to be a good hiding spot. There’s an office that’s tucked away in a corner of a hallway. You run inside and crouch down behind a desk. You can hear them out in the hallway, trying to figure out where you went. With all the running, you forgot to take your hammer out, so you try holding it firmly, but it’s hard when your hands are shaking like crazy.

You can hear them getting closer. You’re playing the waiting game now. You can hear each person going into all the different stores in the hallway that you’re in. At this point it’ll only be a matter of time before they check out the last one and find you. With each door they open and each time they curse that you’re not in there, you find yourself not even thinking of your family, or even Tommy or Dina.

You can only think of Jesse. How you never got to properly say how much you appreciated him, or how good of a friend he was. You wonder how you guys would’ve been in another life, returning home after the reaping, going back to your separate families and never really ever talking to each other. You realize that you really do love him, and you wish that you could see him one last time before you die.

You hear the door open, and footsteps of your hunters walking inside. You grip your hammer as hard as you can.

“There’s really no use in hiding now, Angel. Cmon, if you come out now I’ll make your death nice and swift with my blade here. How’s a decapitation sound to you, hmm?”

You try breathing as quietly as you can. But you know there’s no use. This is the last place they have to check, and you’d be kidding if you thought you stood a chance against all of them. Maybe one, yes, but all three? Hell no.

You hear them giggle to themselves as they slowly make their way closer to the desk you’re hiding under. It’s really over, huh?

All of a sudden, you hear someone burst through the door, grunting and running up behind them. You hear a scream and a slash, a body dropping to the floor.

“WHAT THE FUCK!!?” You hear a male’s voice yell, but he screams as well. You don’t know what to do, you’re even more frozen in fear, afraid that the person who just came in will find out you’re here and kill you too.

There’s more fighting going on, you close your eyes and put your hands over your ears, still while holding your hammer. A couple more seconds pass, although it feels like an eternity, when then everything goes eerily quiet. You don’t open your eyes. Why on Earth is everything so quiet? Could you have died and not remembered it?

You’re trembling too, not daring to move in case the person is still in here. You hear footsteps approaching you. You think it’s all actually really over until a familiar voice says “Hey.”

You slowly take your hands off your ears, open your eyes, and look up. It’s Ellie, knife in hand, dripping with blood. You slowly look her up and down: her shoes are all scuffed up, the hair from her half up half down style is all in her face, and she’s managed to get even more blood on her than when you last saw her yesterday. She looks completely out of breath too - she’s panting.

You know it’s her, but you really can’t believe it. “Ellie?” You set your hammer down.

“Don’t wear the name out, okay?” She says and reaches out her hand for you to take. She helps you stand up, and you raise an eyebrow at her. If you were still in the Capitol she probably would’ve said that last line with a shit-eating grin on her face. Your confused expression suddenly turns cold blooded and angry, when you remember how much of a dick she’s been to you.

“What the fuck, Ellie? Now you’re being all nice to me? What happened to fucking hating my guts or whatever bullshit thing you said during your interview.” You try walking past her, but she puts out her arm to stop you.

“Hey, I just saved your fucking life. You’re welcome.” She stares at you directly in your eyes.

You don’t have time for this, you know you’re making a nasty face right now. “Why? What were you even doing around here? I haven’t seen your selfish ass since what you did at the cornucopia.” You realize you may have fucked up after letting that last bit slip. Ellie’s eyes dart down and then back up at you, and her eyebrows furrow.

She shrugs her shoulders and looks down at her feet, before admitting in a reluctant tone, “I was looking for you, okay?”

You can feel your eyes widen and a wave of heat wash over you. Was she really looking for you? Or is this an act to gain your trust so she can just kill you off?

You want to believe her, you really do, but everything she said during her interview and backstage to your face all comes back to you. You roll your eyes and look her up and down, “Yeah? Gimme one good reason I shouldn’t choke you out right now.”

Ellie’s eyes widen and she smirks ever so slightly before replying “Well I’ve got this knife in my hands and I haven’t tried killing you.. right?” She raises her eyebrows and smiles.

You huff and shove her a little, murmuring about how stupid this all is. You blush and pull away immediately when you realize your hands are still on her.

She gives you a weird look, to which you recognize immediately and try coming up with something to say, but you end up just mumbling, “Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re right.” and crouching down to pick up your stuff off the floor.

She stares at you for a moment too long, and sighs, “Well, now that that’s that, let’s get a move on.”

You mutter to yourself as you pick up your hammer and put it in your satchel. You notice Ellie staring at you as you guys walk out of the office.

You make a confused face at her, “What?”

She laughs and says, “We need to get you a better weapon.”

You roll your eyes at her again, this time playfully, and rustle around in your bag to put the hammer away.

“You got any snacks in there?” She looks at you with her iconic grin on her face, and you accidentally stop walking for a second, but play it off as stopping to look in your bag.

“Oh shit, yeah. Here.”

You pull out one of those stupid heart shaped breads, and you swear this situation could not get any more bizarre.

Ellie takes it and gives you a weird look, to which you scoff and say, “I’m obviously not the one who made them, okay? Just eat it.”

~

You and Ellie have been making your way north for a couple hours now. You don’t really say anything. What is there to say? You still don’t know why she saved you, or why she was looking for you in the first place. You know that you should bring it up, but you need to do it at the right time, or else something bad could happen. You feel bad for being cautious, but this is the hunger games, right?

You still have the empty water bottle in your bag, and Ellie’s been insistant on getting you a better weapon. You’ve been occasionally popping in and out of different stores to see if there was either of the two in any, but so far everything has been empty.

Eventually, you two find a fountain in a little hidden corner. You’re hesitant at first, but Ellie says it’s fine. It’s in the corner, so if someone tries hurting you, at least there’s only one way they can come from. You two sit down on the edge of the circular fountain, facing each other.

You fan yourself from walking, and Ellie reaches into your bag to get the bottle. She fills it up. The water doesn’t look dirty all too much, thankfully. You feel like you’ve just found the garden of Eden.

You don’t mean to stare, but your eyes catch Ellie lift up the bottle to her mouth and take long, drawn out sips of the water. You never even realized how plush and full her lips look. You unconsciously bite your bottom lip and look away.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and hands the bottle to you. You take a few sips and set it back down.

Ellie says nothing. You feel like you could cry with how many wild thoughts and emotions are all built up inside you. Everything has been all too much. All your thoughts of Ellie are all muddled up, and you don’t know whether to be relieved or sad that she saved you.

You look up at her and you realize she’s looking at you too, and she still has all that blood on her face. You reach to take your bag and jacket off you, placing your bag on the ground and your hoodie in your hands. you silently and slowly dip the corner of your hoodie into the small pool of water to the other side of you, ring it out a little, and bring it up to Ellie’s cheek. You pause and look in her eyes, silently asking permission to touch her, to which she puts her hand on yours to place the wet cloth on her face. The blood starts coming off. You go back to the water to dip it and clean the blood out. You bring it back up to her face, and with your other hand you gently hold the other side of her face to keep her steady. You can tell your eyes are already glassy from trying not to cry. You look into her eyes and say, “Why did you save me?”

Ellie’s bottom lip actually trembles. She looks down and says, “Because I wanted to.”

You’re still cleaning her face, but you feel yourself start to cry. Your voice shakes as you say, “I thought you hated me.”

She shakes her head slightly, but not enough to disrupt your work. “I don’t. I promise. I don’t hate you. It’s the opposite.” Her tone is so soft and sad. She still can’t bring herself to look at you, and you suddenly bring your hand down.

Your voice completely breaks and there’s tears streaming down your face. “Then why did you say those awful things about me?” You shout, a little bit louder than you intended to. Ellie winces a little. You can tell it’s not from your volume, but from shame.

“Because my mentor told me to.”

You just stare at her. You don’t even know what to say. “Wh… What?”

She finally looks up at you, and you swear she looks like a lost puppy who came up to your doorstep in the snow. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. About all of it. I never should have agreed to it. It was so stupid. My mentor told me what to say because she was scared of you. After your training score was announced, she saw the reactions other people and sponsors had, and she was scared that you’d be more popular than me. That you’d be a threat.” She looks up, blinking back tears, “I didn’t mean any of it. I don’t know what I can do to convince you, but it’s the truth. I really- I really knew I fucked up after I walked away from you backstage. And the guy from my district said he was gonna kill you. And then we were sent here and I knew I had to kill him the first chance I got. I know it’s bad and it’s a horrible thing to do but I just couldn’t let him hurt you with how kind and thoughtful you are to me.” She’s fully crying now, once a few tears slipped she couldn’t stop, and she’s rambling on and not making any sense. But still; you get it.

“Ellie, I get it. I- I understand.” You wish you could say more, but you really can’t think of anything.

“I’m sorry. I’d never do anything to hurt you, okay?” She looks at you directly, and takes your hands in hers. You think Ellie is probably the best person you’ve ever met.

You take your hands away to wipe away your tears, and nod silently.

Ellie pauses for a moment, looking away. “Yknow… I did really like your dress.. by the way.”

You laugh, drying your eyes more, “Oh yeah? Which one?”

She laughs, “All of them.”

You just giggle in response, and look up at her. Your eyes accidentally flicker to her lips. But she notices, because she does the same. You let out a small, shaky breath, scooting closer to her. She’s not even trying to hide it anymore, she’s staring at your lips, and she comes closer too.

She’s reaches up, gently tucking your hair behind your ear, looking into your eyes. You can’t exactly read her expression, but you’re literally swimming in her eyes with how gorgeous they are up close.

You’re relieved that Ellie never hated you. You honestly hated how it felt to feel mad. To be angry. It felt wrong and disgusting to you. You’re still staring into her eyes.

You lean in, holding the side of her face like how you did when cleaning the blood off her. Both of your eyes keep flickering back and forth between lips, and each others eyes.

She takes one last look at your eyes before softly kissing you.

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

[katnissandpeetamellark]

Idk if people aren’t getting Why I’m hyped that the logo on the book cover is shaped like a lyre

But here is why I am SO thrilled about the TikTok commenters epiphany!

••••

I assume most people at least have come across the Lyre as a symbol of Greek & Roman mythology (thank you Greek/Roman phase we all had as a child lol!) BUT for this post let’s look at the lyre as a symbol of one god, Apollo.

Apollo is the god things such as: music and dance, truth and prophecy, poetry … sun and light. AND archery. (among other things… but these are the ones I want us to focus on)

Let’s connect these things to what we know from the previous books!!!!⭐️

- we can connect music & dance to the Covey & Lucy Gray (and music eventually to Katniss & the propos)

- truth to what really happened during the 10th hunger games. The hidden truth of how Snow cheated. The one we as readers know and citizens of Panem were forced to forget.

- prophecy to the line in TBOSAS about the Katniss (root) not being ready yet 👀 To Mockingjays and their connection to Katniss and the eventual symbol that haunts Snow to his grave. The connection between the 10th hunger games to the 74th and beyond.

- poetry again could be Lucy Gray and her songs that continue to persist in 12 despite Snow trying to destroy her and her memory. Ballads of course are poetry (or song) that tell a story. The Hanging Tree originally tells the story of the Arlo & Lil. The Ballad of Lucy Gray is about her failed romantic relationship and being sent to her grave in the games because she was betrayed. Poetry & Ballads are the way history “stays alive” in 12, even if the masses have forgotten.

- the sun and light are … of course the “sunrise” in the title. The beginning, the start. Apollo is the one who brings the light to the sky every day! Maybe this is Lucy Gray or maybe this is Haymitch. Personally I believe they are both Apollo here. Perhaps each child sent to their death in the games is a spark… a beginning to a brighter world where the games no longer happen? A reason to fight.

- another connection of Apollo to Haymitch is that Apollo is the patron of herds, flocks, crops. Haymitch is herding all these poor district 12 children after he wins the games. Unwillingly and unhappily but in a sick way he becomes a Shepard — and he also eventually has his geese. A peaceful Shepard at last.

NOW! Here’s another thing— Apollo has a twin!! Artemis!

Artemis is the goddess of the HUNT! Goddess of wilderness and child care (among other things)… she is also the goddess of ARCHERY!

Sound like anyone we know??

ANYWAYS! Feel free to add on any ideas, argue points (I just ask you please be respectful in reblogs & comments! I like to chat but I won’t engage with condescension or asshole-ry lol), or even speak on different aspects of the cover💜

[irldenji]

hiii hope youre doing well! could i request some hunger games graphics? maybe some pixels of the logo and stamps/blinkies of peeta mellark, thanks!!

Haiii doing fine ty (*ˊᗜˋ*)! I hope you like these!

[mikatoonist]

wake up, it’s 2012!

some of the things i think of whenever someone mentions the word ‘2012’

it was such an ICONIC year 🙏

As someone who was a teenager in the 2010’s, I can remember certain years and what I associate with them really well, at least until it gets to around 2017 which is when things get hazy for me. The year I remember most during this time period was 2012! The amount of things that happened that year have been so ingrained into my memory…

I have so many memories of 2012 for some reason! So, I wanted to draw some stuff I associate with that year in particular 💖 I know Rage Comics had been out for a while but I was personally obsessed them in in 2012. The rest is pretty self explanatory; the glasses representing the hipster fashion boom of the early 2010’s, online posts on Tumblr constantly talking about pizza and nutella, film franchises like The Hunger Games and the Avengers were huge, the Olympics, One Direction, everyone saying ‘swag’ and ‘yolo’ etc

If anyone is curious about the Cartoon Network logo being there, that’s more of a personal thing. In 2012, I was watching the channel constantly and it was the height of my CN obsession 😂 And of course, I did a galaxy background because galaxy printed clothes, aesthetics, wallpapers etc where everywhere!

[physalian]

Color in Fiction! (Once You See it, You Cannot Unsee it)

White versus black, red versus blue, Gatsby’s green light, Dorothy’s ruby red slippers, Belle’s blue dress.

Color is perhaps the most ubiquitous motif used across both fiction and reality to thread people or objects through a common theme, or to pit two ideologies against each other beyond their verbal spats. Color is also perhaps the simplest motif, but that doesn’t make it any lesser in its potency.

In fiction, color is an easy way for the audience to learn as fast as possible who’s on whose side, and who their opponents are, and today, we’re going to look at a few.

But first: Crash course into color theory:

Warmer colors evoke passion or uncertainty, movement and excitement, happiness and warmth, but also rage, aggression, love, and lust. The cooler colors evoke sadness and serenity, but also youth and spring and winter and death.

Most of the time when a creator wants to juxtapose color in a narrative or other work, they’re going to use inverses, just google one of the hundreds of teal and orange movie posters. Inverses are whatever colors lie at opposite sides of the wheel. Blue and Orange, Red and Green, Purple and Yellow. These pairs show up either in opposition, or as an ensemble of one character or a group or team.

Part 1: Black and White

Yes it has grounds in racism, but black and white are also accepted to mean chaos and order, good and evil, death and life.

In a show like Lost, themes of black and white are constant. The black and white backgammon pieces, the colors of the Dharma station logos, the show’s main title card, God stand-in Jacob (Lucifer from Supernatural), and his unnamed brother, the Man in Black.

Black and white show up *everywhere,* in some places subtler than others. In fiction with a male and female lead, if they are coded in black and white, the man is almost always the one in black. Black means strength and mystery and this deep, almost corrupted darkness. White is purity, femininity, youth, and nurturing, when a woman wears it, unless she's the villain.

Villains in white are very often surprise villains:

The White Witch (Chronicles of Narnia)

Saruman (Lord of the Rings)

President Coin (Hunger Games)

Hans (Frozen), Mayor Bellweather (Zootopia), Auto (Wall-E)

Elizabeth from Pirates of the Caribbean is an interesting case. She begins the first movie wearing light colors and being trapped in the pure and lawful life of the governor’s daughter. She ends her arc in the third movie in solid black (through several costumes) a badass Pirate King and wife of the new Captain of the Flying Dutchman.

Men in black are chivalrous, dark knights, or morally grey vigilantes, silent badasses, or edgy badboys. Black is also of course reserved for villains a la Darth Vader, or Severus Snape and Voldemort and a million others. The "Black Knight" is his own trope, whether he's in a fantasy setting or not.

Women in black are temptresses, or seductive badasses. Black is the color of corruption, sin, and angst in western media 9 times out of 10 unless a narrative wants to subvert it.

I could do an entire essay on black and white in Lord of the Rings alone but here's a few other contrasts: The white Tower of Ecthelion, Minas Tirith, the "White City", the White Tree, Gandalf the White. The Black Riders, Black Speech, Black Land of Mordor, Orthanc (Saruman's Tower).

But you don’t have to make your character’s entire costumes black and white, no, you can just make their hair light and dark.

Part 2: Hair

**Possibly also because racism but we don’t have time to unpack all that right now**

When you have your male protagonist and his male foil, love interest, competition, companion, lancer, or villain, most of the time (in western media where blonds are in abundance) the more noble or “good” character of the two will be blond, the other brunet, especially in a love triangle. If two male characters have opposing ideologies on any level, they will often have opposing hair. A male and female lead duo will also tend to have opposing hair, but it’s most obvious what they’re doing when it’s two dudes and not just coincidence.

Here’s a nonexhaustive list, with the brunet first (ignoring if the adaptation was faithful):

Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamnee (LoTR)

Aragorn and Boromir (LoTR)

Aragorn and Theoden (LoTR)

Denethor and Faramir (LoTR)

Thorin and Bilbo (Hobbit)

Jack Shephard and James “Sawyer” Ford (Lost)

Jack Twist and Ennis Del Mar (Brokeback Mountain) *Also have opposing hats*

Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent (The Dark Knight)

Tony Stark and Steve Rogers (Marvel)

Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers (Marvel)

Loki and Thor (Marvel)

Nico di Angelo and Will Solace (Percy Jackson)

Percy Jackson and Jason Grace (Percy Jackson)

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson (the Cumberbatch one)

Sam Winchester and Dean Winchester (Supernatural)

Edmund Pevensie and Peter Pevensie (Chronicles of Narnia)

Gale Hawthorne and Peeta Mellark (Hunger Games)

Damon Salvatore and Stefan Salvatore (Vampire Diaries)

Tom Buchanan and Jay Gatsby (2013 Gatsby)

Caledon Hockley and Jack Dawson (Titanic)

Notable nonexhaustive exceptions:

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter)

Percy Jackson and Luke Castellan (Percy Jackson)

Jacob Black and Edward Cullen (Twilight)

Batman and Superman (DC Comics)

Luke Skywalker and Han Solo (Star Wars)

Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi (Star Wars) *wardrobe makes up for it*

*Feel free to tag the ones I missed

Not every brunet on the list is a “bad” guy, nor is every blond the “good” guy, but compared to each other, the brunet tends to be the more morally grey, the more corrupted, the one who’s ideologies end up getting them hurt or killed or proving them wrong. Or, the brunet faces more demons, has a darker personality, or tends to have a “shoot first ask questions later” philosophy.

This of course goes out the window if the media is set in a region or with a cast of characters who are meant to share similar features, like how there’s no blondes at all in Last Airbender (otherwise Aang would absolutely fit the pattern).

Whether that’s Frodo getting corrupted by the Ring and Sam being his rock, Jack Twist getting murdered while Ennis lives on, or the beloved Dark Knight and his bat-black demons while Harvey’s White legacy saves Gotham, next time you write a brunet and his blond competition, ask yourself just why you’re doing it.

*Side note, I’m pretty sure Harvey Dent, when he’s animated, is usually a brunet, but he’s also usually Two-Face by then and no longer a hero*

I don’t even have time for black and white in anime or the trope of the white-haired anime boy and since natural hair colors are kind of moot, I don’t think the same rules apply. But outside of the westernized “black knight vs white knight” I do want to dig deeper into color motifs in anime at some point.

Here's some notable dark and light dichotomies nonetheless in wardrobe and/or hair:

Kirito and Asuna (Sword Art Online)

Lelouch and Suzaku (Code Geass)

Midoriya and Bakugo (My Hero Academia)

L and Light (Death Note)

Medusa and Stein (Soul Eater)

Sasuke and Naruto (Naruto)

Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Eiji and Ash (Banana Fish)

Kyoya and Tamaki (OHSHC)

Yuri and Viktor (Yuri!!! On Ice)

Dracula and Alucard (Castlevania)

Part 3: Red v. Blue and everything in between

The megalith that is the color motif extends past the white/black dichotomy.

It’s also red and blue.

If red is pitted against blue in any story, red is always the team the audience is supposed to root against, unless this is sports. Red is the color of the Sith, the Fire Nation, red eyes are seen as evil, red is blood and rage and wrath and fire. Red is the color of evil empires. Blue is the color of heroes. It’s water and healing and camaraderie, serenity. Blue is the color of rebels and underdogs.

Red versus blue is in everything from the color of lightsabers in Star Wars to the color of cybertronian eyes in Transformers, to the color of the Water Tribes and Fire Nations (with some exceptions a la Azula’s blue fire) to the colors of the pills in the Matrix. Red is the ‘dangerous’ choice, blue is the ‘safe’ choice. Unless your character is patriotically sporting the red, white and blue of the UK, USA, or France.

Villains usually only wear blue if they're ice-coded, or belong to a faction wearing navy blue uniforms.

Red versus blue also shows up between leaders and their lancers. The first one I can think up off the top of my head is Robin and Raven from Teen Titans.

Purple is also usually lumped in with the bad guys and green with the good guys, but purple and green also show up a ton as contrasting colors of the same character like the Hulk or the Joker. But both can swing either way. The Decepticons in the early cartoons for Transformers had purple everywhere and reclaimed it in Transformers: Prime. Megatron, Soundwave, Shockwave, the Vehicons, Airachnid, and the Dark Star Saber, and some G1s]. Prime also has three sets of red-blue dichotomies within their factions: [Arcee/Cliffjumper, Optimus/Ratchet, and Knockout/Breakdown].

Green is the color of more Jedi, and the Green Lanterns, but green also represents sickness or disease or generic evil energy a la Loki, Dr. Facilier (Princess and the Frog) or the Hyenas and Scar in the Lion King.

Pink is really up in the air, as is orange and yellow, especially when it comes to female characters, especially female anime characters.

But enough about color dichotomy.

Part 4: Color Singularity

Color singularly is either meant to evoke a specific emotion, like using blue everywhere to represent sadness, or it’s meant to be a bold statement in an otherwise grayscale world.

I mentioned a few at the top of the post and I’ll elaborate on them here:

In Great Gatsby, green and yellow are very important colors. The “green light” is this real object at the end of the titular character’s love interest’s dock. This light and this color are motifs that represent Gatsby’s longing for Daisy and to return to a glorious past he can never have again (it’s also the color of American money). Yellow is also everywhere in this book. It’s the color of his chekov’s car and several dresses at his extravagant party. Yellow is the color of his current life of glitz and glam and riches (and is also the color of gold). If you listen to one of the accompanying songs to the 2013 film, Florence and the Machine’s “Over the Love” recognizes the importance of yellow in the narrative.

Dorothy’s red slippers in the Wizard of Oz are hyperbolically bold, especially since the movie starts out in black and white. Color is a huge piece of this film- the Emerald City, the Yellow Brick Road, the horse of many colors. Red scientifically is the color humans tend to notice first, those shoes were made to be remembered. Color in Wizard of Oz is the symbol of the fantastical, which was really helped by the time the film was made and simply seeing so much color on screen dazzled audiences.

Red catches your eye faster than any other color, and red in a world of black and white sticks in your mind, just look at Schindler’s List.

Belle from Beauty and the Beast, along with a lot of fictional women wear blue. Blue is biblically Mary’s color, and at one time was the color marketed to women before the shift to “blue for boys”. In the original Beauty and the Beast, Belle was the only character who wore blue, because she was an outsider, and outlier, a free-thinker. Or at least, Belle is the only one who wears blue until she dances with the Beast. The live-action remake didn’t maintain this extra level of the narrative and that’s a shame.

I didn't mention eye color much above (also maybe because racism) but blue eyes, especially animated blue and green eyes, go to characters who are more hopeful, heroic, nurturing, morally just, honest, or brave than their brown-eyed counterparts, unless he's a blue-eyed Tall, Dark, and Handsome. Blue-eyed people tend to be blond, so the traits go hand in hand for the "good" character.

Weirdly enough, this also applies to blue-eyed animal characters -- your animated anthropomorphised villain is rarely going to be drawn with eyes that aren't brown, black, green, red, orange, or yellow.

Because color is also a subliminal or overt way of foreshadowing in both written and visual media as much as any other motif and recurring symbol. You can foreshadow death, or impending doom, or an eventual identity reveal, whatever you want.

You can also subvert the usual associations with specific colors. Black doesn’t have to mean evil in your world. Black can be life, too. White doesn’t have to be pure, white can be clinical and sterile and lifeless (but please no more lady villains in white pantsuits, that's its own cliche at this point). Shake it up a bit every once in a while.

So whether it’s dueling ideologies or the very forces of good and evil, a harbinger of doom or a secret tell, or community and camaraderie, or an enduring hope, you can represent it all with a careful dose of color.

[sold-down-the-river]

Maybe I just haven’t seen any so far, but do you think that, in the Capitol or even in the Districts, propaganda posters were made for the Hunger Games portraying tributes as happy, aka happy to go to the games? I know it is a phenomenon in the meat industry, some meat brands or restaurants marketing themselves by using logo design or animals being happy / happy to be eaten.

I’m pretty sure this is called “suicide food” but I am wondering if the Capitol ever used a similar technique, or if they just based their system of fear.

[lxndonorris]

racing hearts - lestappen

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc Theme: Smutish, Teasing, Touching tension rises during the pre-season testing, a sign of what's to come throughout the year x word count: 1600+ taglist: @game-set-canet I just needed this little interlude ;P

Max breathes in the familiar scent of adrenaline and burning rubber as he steps out of the sleek Red Bull racing car, his heart still pounding from the exhilarating test session. The sun is beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the paddock, and Max can't help but feel a surge of contentment wash over him.

The first official testing for the upcoming season has just begun, and it is a moment he has been eagerly anticipating. Max glances down at his new Red Bull racing suit, the iconic logo emblazoned across the chest. He looks so good. As he adjusts his helmet, he can't help but feel a sense of excitement bubbling within him. 

He had pushed the car to its limits, weaving through corners with precision, and clocked some impressive lap times. With a radiant smile spreading across his face, he takes his helmet off and leaves the Red Bull garage to take a break inside his motorhome. 

The rush of adrenaline still courses through his veins, leaving him feeling alive and invigorated. It had been far too long since he had experienced the thrill of racing, and now that he is back behind the wheel, every fiber of his being thrums with pure pleasure.

As he peels off his racing gloves, Max can't help but revel in the sensation of racing lingering inside him as he walks through the paddock, basking in the afterglow of a successful test session. His body hums with energy, every muscle taut and coiled with tension.

With each step he takes, Max feels the tension inside his body and the subtle flexing of his muscles as he moves with purpose and grace. The sheer joy of being back on track is written across his face, his eyes sparkling with excitement, and his chest swelling with pride.

Max can't shake the feeling of euphoria that pulses through him. Racing is more than just a sport to him; it is a way of life, a passion that burned deep within his soul. 

As he strolls through the bustling paddock, a sense of nostalgia washes over him, mingling with the thrill of anticipation for the upcoming season. Memories of the previous season flood his mind, each one punctuated by the exhilarating rush of adrenaline and the sweet taste of victory. It had felt incredible to stand on top of the podium and hold the trophy up in the air, knowing all his hard work had paid off.

Then he reaches the familiar haven of his motorhome, and a smile plays at the corner of his lips. Max opens the door, steps inside, and begins to peel off his racing gear, the fabric clinging to his skin with a mixture of sweat and triumph.

Before he can pull the zipper down in its entirety, a familiar voice cuts through the air, causing him to pause mid-motion.

"Max""

Turning, Max's grin widens as he spots Charles, his childhood rival and now his secret lover. Despite their fierce competition on track, their relationship off it is one of mutual respect and passion. 

Charles stands leaning against the side of the motorhome, his red racing suit unzipped and hanging around his waist, accentuating every curve and contour of his athletic frame. The dimming light of the evening sun casts a golden hue over him, highlighting the allure that seems to radiate from every pore.

"Hey Charlie!" Max greets him, his voice filled with a mixture of excitement and intrigue. "How was your session?"

Charles smirks, his gaze raking over Max's form with a hunger that sends shivers down Max's spine. "Not bad. But I think I left you some big shoes to fill out there." 

Max chuckles, unable to tear his eyes away from Charles' captivating gaze. The tension between them is palpable—a dance of desire and competition that has ignited since the end of the last season. 

It started innocently enough—a shared moment of camaraderie that blossomed into something much deeper. And now, as they stand face-to-face, the air crackles with the electricity of their secretive romance.

Charles takes a step closer into the motorhome, his movements oozing with self-confidence and a lingering desire that sends Max's heart racing faster than any of their race cars. "You know, it's going to be much harder for you to become a world champion with me on your tail."

Max feels a thrill run down his spine at the challenge in Charles' words. Leaning in closer, he brushed his lips against Charles' while closing the door behind him. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Charles tilts his head slightly, his hands moving to rest gently on Max's chest, fingers tracing slow circles across his frim muscles. The touch ignites a fire within him that burns hotter with each passing moment.

"I missed fighting you on track," he murmurs, his voice low and husky with desire. "Those battles during testing were...so much fun."

Max lets out a deep, rumbling growl in response, relishing the feel of Charles's hands exploring his body. He leans into his touch, his own hands coming to rest on Charles's waist, pulling him closer.

Max's gaze drifts downward, lingering on the tantalizing sight of their bodies mere inches apart. Despite the close proximity, the space between them seems charged with tension, each breath they take heavy with desire.

His eyes trace the contours of Charles's athletic frame, admiring the way his racing suit hugs every curve and muscle with precision.

A low, primal sound rumbles in Max's throat as he licks his lips, unable to tear his gaze away from the sight before him. The sleek fabric of these red fireproofs clings to Charles's skin, leaving little to the imagination and sparking a fierce hunger within Max. He can't help but marvel at how effortlessly Charles wears the suit, exuding confidence and allure with every moment.

The sight of his boyfriend in his racing gear never fails to stir something primal within him, awakening a need that only Charles could satisfy.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Max teases, "Admit it, you're showing off your tight fireproofs to mess with me."

Charles smirks, his gaze smoldering with lust. "Maybe I am," he admits, not bothering to hide the truth. Instead, he leans closer, his lips brushing against Max's ear. "But seeing the way you react to them...just makes me hard." 

Max's breath catches in his throat at the confession, his heart pounding in his chest. The thought of Charles intentionally teasing him, of knowing the effect it has on Max, only fuels the fire between them.

With a low growl, Max surges forward, capturing Charles's lips in a fierce kiss, his fingers trailing lightly over the smooth fabric of Charles's undergarments. His touch is electric, sending sparks flying between them as their bodies press together, molding into one another with a sense of urgency and longing.

Charles pulls away for a moment, meeting Max's longing gaze with a playful smirk. He teases Max further, his fingers tracing the zipper of his racing suit, Max's breath hitches in excitement.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Charles begins to unzip his suit, the fabric parting to reveal the tantalizing glimpse of Max's muscles bulging through his fireproofs.

Max's heart races as Charles's hand slips inside, his touch sending waves of pleasure cascading through him. The sensation of his fingers stroking Max's chest is tingling, each caress leaving him craving more. He leans into the touch, his own hands moving to trace the contours of Charles's body, reveling in the feel of his boyfriend's warmth beneath his fingertips.

Both of their bodies, all of their muscles are hard as rock as more tension builds up inside them.

"I can't wait to fight on the track again," Charles murmurs again. "And this time, I will be on top."

Max lets out a low groan once Charles's hand reaches his crotch; all of this teasing causes his member to grow and bulge inside his tight suit.

He knows Charles is a formidable opponent, one who pushes him to his limits both on and off the racetrack. The thought of facing him on the track once more fills Max with a heady mix of lust and desire.

"We will see about that," Max whispers, playing with Charles's nipples, desperately trying to pierce his shirt.

With a chuckle, Charles reluctantly pulls away from Max, his fingers lingering on the zipper of his racing suit for a moment longer. He can't resist stealing one last admiring glance at Max's physique—his chest so firm and his length tenting visibly—his gaze lingering on the alluring sight of his unzipped suit.

"You know," Charles smirks, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. "I won't be able to hide this." He grabs himself through his suit and fondles with his own member. Max bites his lower lip, touching himself as well.

"All I want is to battle you and win." Charles's smirk grows wider while he runs a hand along his length and up his chest to his neck, stroking himself again and again.

Max's heart skips a beat at the declaration, his own desire echoing his sentiments. He knows their battles on track are more than just a competition; they are a test of skill, determination, and passion.

With a shy smirk, Max steps closer to Charles, their bodies still tingling with the heat of their shared desire. "Bring it on," he replies, his voice filled with confidence.

As Charles turns to leave, Max can't help but admire the grace and strength in his stride. Their love may be a secret, but the fire that burns between them is undeniable. 

Max watches Charles leave, his heart heavy with longing, feeling a pang of disappointment that their time together was cut short. The sight of Charles stroking himself before turning back for one last look will linger in Max's mind.

With a sigh, Max gets back into his motorhome, resting for the upcoming race next week.