#i don't want to see it ever again lol no thank you

[webslingingslasher]

ohhhh j new fear unlocked for everyone

yk how being on your period and leaking in someone’s bed isn’t ideal? esp if they aren’t ur bf? screw the bed - it got on HIM and he’s not my bf. he’s a cuddler in his sleep and pulled me in and I just saw🤠🤠🤠 nightmare. I’m building up the courage to wake him up rn lol. it’s not that deep but this is pretty horrific bc it’s only my second time staying over and we are very much Not Dating

*cleaning out my drafts - this is an old one!

there have been several times in your life when you've said 'this is the worst thing to ever happen to me.' today takes the cake and you'll never have the urge to say those words again.

period blood? a nuisance to deal with.

period blood on your partner? humbling.

period blood on your hookup? downright mortifying and coma inducing.

it'll only get worse the longer you wait. counting to ten, you take a deep breath and gently shake peter awake. he whines and swats you away, you feel terrible that you're about to ruin his sleep.

'peter, i got my period and i leaked.'

peter sucks in air, the words are registering and he's blinking awake while looking you over. 'in my bed?' you nod timidly, feeling awful about it.

'and on you.' it's a defeated whisper, you turn to the side so you don't see his reaction. you feel the blankets lift up, a two second pause before peter settles back into bed.

'i don't have anything to plug you up so you gotta figure it out.' you stare down at his face, he's going back to sleep?

'did you hear me? i leaked.'

peter sighs, he's more upset that you woke him up than being doused in your monthly. 'yeah, like a quarter's worth. it's a dot, trouble. wrap it up and come back to bed.'

'but i got it on you.'

peter huffs before picking his head up and opening an eye to look at you. 'what do you want me to say? do you want me to be mad? you're the only girl in my bed so if you wanna stain the sheets that's on you.'

you stop a smile from forming, 'are you suggesting i did this to mark my territory?'

'it wouldn't surprise me. it also explains the leg.' he tugs his comforter up to his chin while letting sleep coat over him. 'are you cauterized yet?'

'yeah, i stashed some stuff here.' peter searches around for your hand under the blanket by little taps. 'good, cuddle with me.' you almost squeak when he drags you into his side, always impressed by his casual strength.

'are you sure -' you're halfway through your question when peter takes initiative and hitches your knee over his hips. 'i refuse to answer stupid questions before eight am.'

'i'm sorry i stained your sheets.'

peter's dimple pops out when he smiles. 'bloody nice reminder you were here.' you poke it, he peeks an eye open and acts like he's about to bite your finger. 'you're proud of that one?'

'o-h i'm positive.' you gag before hiding in his side and groaning. 'you're not allowed to make dad jokes before eight am.'

'oh yeah? well you're not allowed to bleed... just kidding, trouble. you can expel your moon cycle anywhere you want, what's mine is yours.'

'wow. you're so romantic.'

'only for you.'

he says it like a joke but you think peter would be a whole lot less cool if it was with anyone else. 'thank you for not making me feel bad. you're kind of the best.'

'i know.' you narrow your eyes at him, as if he can sense it, peter nudges his hand under your shirt to splay his hand across your lower back. his warm palm eases tension you weren't aware of yet. 'i was about to say don't get a big head, but your hand feels very nice so i'll refrain.'

'want me to rub your tummy?' you lean forward to press your nose against his cheek. 'say tummy again. it's cute.'

'no.' 

you whine at his refusal, 'i'm shedding my uterus, be nice to me.' peter smiles at your pout. 'tummy.' hiding your face in his neck you let out a quiet squeal. 'i like when you're cringy with me, it makes me feel like you like me.'

you can see how fast his mind is working, he's hesitating on what he's about to say. peter decides to throw you a bone, you're still embarrassed from giving him a wake up call.

'my baby is feeling so icky, isn't she? her tummy and back hurts and she is being so brave.' you nod softly, he's spot on.

'so icky.'

'so brave.'

'say tummy again.'

peter takes a deep breath, 'you're on thin ice, trouble.'

'just one more time. please?' you plead with him and follow it up with a yawn, his hold and heat is making you drowsy. 'if you tell anyone that i asked to rub your tummy or that i said tummy this many times, you'll never hear me say tummy again, deal?'

your eyes seal shut, his warmth is going nowhere. 'deal.' 

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

I Could Give You A Ride

✰ summary: would you want to give a ride to a bartender you randomly meet at a bar? oh, i think you do. but don't forget, it could end earlier than you expect!

✰ warnings: +18 Minors Do Not Interact +18 (bartender!choso x fem!reader, alcohol use, mature language, drunk reader, kissing, neck kissing, tit sucking, reader is riding choso's fingers, quick ending because of choso's excitement lol)

✰ a little note: i originally planned a completely different ending, but i ended it in another way with this silly and funny idea that came to mind. i love my cute emo boy Choso <3

✰ word count: 3.4k

I guess it was about time.

Yes, it was definitely time, because you didn’t know how much longer you could hold yourself back. Watching like a creep wasn’t an option anymore; you had to take action. That way, you could confirm your certification as an official creep.

But every time you hyped yourself up, telling yourself “I’m doing it now!” your enthusiasm would fizzle out, and you’d return to sipping your drink.

Why had you even come here in the first place?

After a long work week, you definitely deserved a drink. And, as luck would have it, the handsome and sweet bartender came as a bonus with great cocktails.

Sitting in the right corner of the wide bar, nursing your fourth mojito, and sneaking glances at the bartender, you couldn’t help the unnecessary fluttering inside you. It had all started last week when one of your close girlfriends discovered this place. It might’ve been a bit too quiet for a girls’ night out, but as long as you were gossiping, nothing else mattered.

One of your friends had been mid-sip when she suddenly froze, pointing toward the handsome bartender making drinks at the counter. You, along with the rest of your friends, had turned to stare, mouths agape, as he shook the cocktail shaker like a pro.

“Oh my God… I wish he’d shake me like that,” your friend had blurted.

Eyes still glued to the emo bartender behind the bar, you’d replied, “Since when are emos this hot?”

The shock of your words had been enough to grab all your friends’ attention because it had been ages since you’d expressed interest in anyone.

“I knew there was still hope! Finally, someone’s got you wet,” one of them teased.

Rolling your eyes, you’d shot back, “Girls I only said he’s hot, okay? Anyway, he can be as cute and attractive as he wants, but he’s definitely not someone I’d want to sleep with. Can we stop being creeps and get back to our girls’ night?”

Despite their reluctance, they’d agreed, and the evening had continued.

Of course, you wanted to sleep with him. That feeling had been there from the moment you first saw him. Ever since that girls’ night, all you could think about was that bartender going down on you, giving you orgasms over and over again.

As you racked your brain over how to return to this bar, you finally gave in to temptation and dragged yourself here on a Friday as a well-earned reward.

Sure, you wanted to see the hot emo bartender again, but the cocktail you were sipping was a nice bonus.

When you walked in, there had been empty tables around, but you’d chosen a seat at the bar instead. After all, you’d come here for one reason.

When you locked eyes with the bartender, he smiled at you and walked over, politely asking what you’d like. After ordering your mojito, you’d watched him intently as he prepared it.

The way he precisely measured the ingredients and poured them into the shaker, the way his tattooed, muscular arms flexed as he shook it—it had you pressing your thighs together, trying (and failing) to ease the ache between your legs.

Apparently, emos could be insanely attractive.

Lost in your admiration of the hot bartender, you’d snapped out of it when he placed your finished cocktail in front of you. Your eyes darted from the drink to him, noticing the self-assured smirk on his face as if he knew you’d been ogling him.

Feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you’d managed a flustered thank you before taking a sip. His smirk had only widened as he walked back to the center of the bar to prepare another drink.

The pattern repeated itself after that. You’d raise your empty glass for another order, he’d collect it with a smile, and you’d shamelessly ogle him as he made an even better mojito than the last.

How long could this go on? You weren’t sure. You wanted to talk to him, to get to know him, but the fear of rejection kept holding you back. It didn’t help that you hadn’t had a proper conversation with anyone in ages, so your confidence was shot. Besides, he was working. Why would he stop everything to chat with you? It felt ridiculous.

Maybe the timing just wasn’t right. Or maybe you were just lying to yourself.

Lost in thought, you stared at the remnants of your mojito when a small shadow appeared in front of you. Lifting your head, you found yourself staring into a pair of beautifully lined eyes.

His face held a mix of a smile and an inquisitive expression, as if he were trying to figure you out. The woody scent of his cologne surrounded you, and whether it was the alcohol or not, the sight of his tattooed forearms peeking out from his rolled-up sleeves made him look extra tempting.

Had they been this good the first time you saw him? Oh, absolutely.

You wanted to take back everything you’d said last week because you definitely wanted to fuck him now.

“You don’t seem like you’re having much fun.”

You stood there speechless, continuing to stare at the bartender you found so attractive. When you finally managed to collect your words and decided to speak, you answered in a soft voice, “Uhmm, I don’t know.”

He laughed sincerely at your response. He’d smiled at you before, but hearing him chuckle like this stirred a completely different feeling inside you.

“Usually, people on their sixth drink are in party mode, but for you, it seems to be causing depression.”

You were never someone whose mood dropped when drinking. On the contrary, you became more cheerful and energetic. And yet, here you were, struggling not to press your lips against this emo bartender’s—

Wait. Did he say sixth drink? Because you were pretty sure you were just about to finish your fourth.

With a puzzled expression, you asked, “Sixth drink?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, you’re on your sixth one now.”

Shit. There was no way you were drunk. Who even gets drunk on cocktails? Sure, six might be a bit much, but you’d definitely had more before.

Covering your face with your hands in embarrassment, you tried to process what had just happened. But that warm, masculine chuckle reached your ears again, and you slowly pulled your hands away to look at him.

“I should’ve stopped you after your fourth. I noticed your eyes starting to droop a little,” he said, his face showing a hint of concern. “Do you want me to get you some water?”

“Oh, no, thanks. Normally, I’m a pretty resilient drinker.”

“Sure, I can see that,” he teased, his tone playful and a little mocking.

His words stung a little, so you frowned and tried to prove your point. “I’m serious. I could have six glasses of whiskey and still be perfectly fine.”

Determined to show him you were still steady, you attempted to stand up—only to stumble slightly, prompting the sexy bartender to reach out and steady you.

His long, veiny arms reached across the bar to catch you, holding you firmly. And wow, how many tattoos did this man have?

“Jesus, you scared me, sweetheart.”

Plenty of people had called you “sweetheart” before, but you weren’t sure anyone had ever said it as beautifully as he just did.

“Your voice is so… soft.” You weren’t sure why you said that. You probably should’ve just thanked him for catching you, but instead, you blurted out whatever came to mind.

“If you sit back down on the stool, I can talk to you more. What do you say?”

Within a second, your drunk self processed his words and obediently sat back on the stool. All for the sake of hearing that soft, beautiful voice again.

“Okay, you can talk now, emo boy.”

“Huh! So you’ve already given me a nickname,” he said, leaning on the bar as he got closer to you. “Tell me, did you come up with it while secretly staring at me all this time?”

Well, so you weren’t a secret creep. Apparently, you were a very obvious one. At least that made you a little less terrifying. You felt your cheeks heat up. You didn’t know how he’d noticed you watching him, but in your drunken state, you gave the best response you could muster.

“Guess I’m not the only creep who likes staring at people.”

The handsome bartender’s cheeks flushed at your remark, and you let out a small laugh. There was nothing cuter than a flustered guy.

“You caught me, sweetheart.”

“What can I say? I love making handsome bartenders blush when I’m drunk.” Your hands found their way to his cheeks, gently caressing them. It felt like you were touching the softest thing in the world. He closed his eyes, seemingly enjoying your touch. But then his sharp voice broke the moment. “If you keep this up, I’ll bend you over this counter and fuck you so hard that make you scream loud enough to scare off all the customers.”

Your eyes widened in shock. That had to be your drunk mind playing tricks on you. There was no way he’d actually said that. You were just hearing what you wanted to hear.

“Okay,” you said, as if to reassure yourself of the truth.

“Okay?” he repeated, confused.

“I accept, emo boy.”

He let out a sweet laugh. “You accept me bending you over the bar and fucking you until you scream?”

“Uh-huh, exactly that.”

“I only said it so you’d sober up and realize what you’re doing, sweetheart.”

A small pang of disappointment hit you. No, scratch that—it was a huge pang of disappointment. For a second, you’d hoped he meant it, that he actually wanted you.

Sure, he could make amazing cocktails, but if he didn’t take the number-one bartender rule—never play with drunk customers—seriously, then he clearly wasn’t taking his job seriously either.

“Uh, I see. I’m sorry,” you muttered, your voice low as you averted your gaze to the floor. You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore.

“Shit, I—look, it’s 11:30 right now, and we close in half an hour. I can’t let you go home alone in this state, so please—”

You interrupted him, your tone tinged with irritation. “That’s not necessary. I can handle myself.” You pulled out your wallet, placed some money on the counter, and said, “The drinks were great. Have a good night.”

Fueled by your disappointment, you sobered up just enough to stand without stumbling and made your way to the exit.

But before you could leave, you felt a hand on your arm. Turning around, you locked eyes with the “cute, handsome, and deceitful bartender.” He looked at you with a sorrowful expression, like a wounded deer. He knew full well he’d hurt you.

Closing your eyes briefly, you let out a sigh and began to apologize for your unnecessary outburst. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m drunk and overreacting to everything. There was nothing wrong with what you said. I’m just a regular customer, and honestly, I shouldn’t have touched you like that in the first place. I’m really—”

“Please let me give you a ride home, sweetheart. I can’t let you go like this on your own.”

How could you say no to that? He looked like a sad puppy, waiting for your forgiveness. And as much as you wanted to storm off and leave, deep down, the thought of being out alone at this hour scared you.

“Waiting half an hour wouldn’t hurt,” you said, offering him a small smile.

The bartender seemed to understand that you’d let go of your anger, and he returned your smile. He guided you to a more comfortable seat in the lounge area and promised to finish up quickly so he could join you.

The seats were much softer here. Sure, you’d endured the hard barstool for the handsome bartender, but this felt like heaven. Setting your bag beside you and leaning back, you closed your eyes. You told yourself you’d just rest them for a moment. But you didn’t realize when sleep took over.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

When you woke up, your eyes opened easily. The bar was dimly lit, with only a faint glow above the counter. The customers had left, and the handsome bartender was sitting on one of the stools, engrossed in his phone.

Why hadn’t he woken you up?

As you got up and walked toward him, he looked up from his phone and turned his gaze to you. That beautiful smile, which suited him so well, appeared on his face.

“Hey, you’re awake. I didn’t want to wake you, and I thought you could use the rest to sober up. Feeling better?”

He didn’t have to be this sweet. You silently swore to yourself that you’d never come here again, but his kindness only made you like him even more.

Taking a deep breath, you finally let out everything you’d been holding inside. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since I saw you last week. I came here today, using the excuse of treating myself, just to come here and see you again. I’m not good at this, and it makes me really nervous. You made it clear you’re not interested, but I still wanted to tell you how I feel, even if I never get to see you again.” By the time you finished speaking, you realized you were out of breath. You had blurted everything out in one go. You might’ve embarrassed yourself further, but at least you felt relieved.

“So, you’re saying you’re a professional creep?” His tone was anything but serious, and when you looked at him, you noticed the barely contained laughter on his face.

You started laughing, a mix of nerves and amusement, and nodded. Pulling your phone from your bag, you checked the time—12:30 AM.

“It’s late; I should—Hmph.” Your words were cut off by his lips pressing against yours. It wasn’t the first time you’d been interrupted tonight by him, but if all interruptions were like this, you’d gladly welcome them.

You dropped your phone and bag to the floor, letting your hands find their way to his long, black hair. The man in front of you kissed you with passion—not rushed, but deliberate, as if he’d been craving your lips all night.

When he grabbed your waist and lifted you, you instinctively wrapped your legs around his hips, allowing him to carry you to the bar counter. His lips tasted of mint and strawberry.

Alright, you definitely needed to ask him about that lip balm later.

When he pulled back to catch his breath, you managed to speak. “I thought you weren’t interested in me?”

His light-colored eyes, framed by black eyeliner, stared at you guiltily. “Since the moment you sat on that stool, all I’ve wanted was to taste your lips.” His fingers brushed over your lips gently. “So fucking full and soft. I know the rest of you is just like this, sweetheart.”

As he leaned in to kiss you again, you stopped him, finally asking the question that had been on your mind since the moment you saw him. “Are you ever going to tell me your name, or are you planning to keep the mystery alive?”

He kissed you softly before pulling back. “Choso.”

“Hmmm, do you know what I’m thinking right now, Choso?”

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked in a low, husky voice.

“You’re going to give me a ride home tonight, but in return, I want to ride you too.”

His eyes widened, and even in the dim light, you could see his cheeks flush. For someone who looked so tough, he was surprisingly shy. Leaning into his ear, you whispered, “Will you let me?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, his earlier dominance now replaced with a more submissive tone.

“Then take me to the lounge area, Choso.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

With your legs still wrapped around his waist, Choso carried you to the lounge. As he walked, you placed wet kisses along his neck, occasionally nibbling his skin, which earned soft groans from him.

When he sat down on the couch, he placed you on his lap. His hands found your breasts, kneading them gently, while his lips latched onto your neck. You weren’t sure which of his actions was more pleasurable—the way his lips sucked on the sensitive spots of your neck, or the way his fingers teased your nipples through your clothes.

Why choose when you could have both?

“Shit—Choso, this feels so good. Please… I don’t just want your fingers,” you moaned eagerly.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, tugging at your top.

“Yes, please.”

The moment he got your top off, leaving you bare before him, his hands stilled, and he stared at your breasts. He looked like a child who had finally gotten the toy they’d been dreaming of, his mouth slightly open in awe. Slowly, he lowered his head to your right breast, placing soft kisses around it.

“Just as I thought,” he murmured between kisses. “Absolutely *smooch* perfect *smooch* and *smooch* so soft.”

After kissing all around your breast, he let his tongue flick over your nipple. When your moan filled the room, he glanced up at you and licked it again, this time keeping his gaze locked with yours. Once he broke eye contact, he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking it gently.

“Oh, God, Choso—fuck, fuck… they’re so sensitive,” you whimpered. The way he suckled your nipple made you feel like you might lose your mind. When his fingers found your other nipple and began teasing it, you arched your back and tangled your hands in his hair, silently begging for this to never end.

“Choso—I’m—I’m—”

He pulled back just enough to speak, his voice breathless. “Fuck, sweetheart, I could come just from sucking on your tits.”

“Do you want me to suck your—”

He placed a wet kiss between your breasts and looked into your eyes. “Not tonight. Tonight is about you. I just want to make you feel good.”

His hands slipped under your skirt, tugging your black thong down your hips before his fingers brushed along your slick folds.

“Choso—ugh, please, just put them in,” you begged.

Obliging, he slid one finger inside you, pumping slowly at first.

His long, thick finger found your G-spot almost immediately, pressing against it in just the right way. As your moans grew louder, he added a second finger and increased his pace, his fingers thrusting in and out of you with more urgency.

“Shit—shit, you’re so tight. If I fuck this pussy, I’ll come in two seconds,” he muttered, his voice strained as if he was barely holding himself together.

“Ahhh, Choso, right there—right—UGHH CHOSO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” You cried out as his teeth gently bit down on your other nipple. Your hands found his hair again as you whimpered, “More—I want more.”

Noticing the way your hips bucked to meet his movements, Choso chuckled against your skin. “I think—I think I’m falling for you. I’ve never seen a pussy this—fuck—this wet before.”

“It’s all for you, Choso. Just—just keep going, and I’m going to—ughhh.”

“Come for me, baby. Come all over my fucking fingers.”

Your walls clenched tightly around his fingers as you screamed out in pleasure, your orgasm washing over you. Choso let out a low growl, swearing under his breath as your hips stilled. He gently pumped his fingers inside you a few more times before pulling them out and bringing them to his mouth, licking up every drop of your release.

As you lay there catching your breath, your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his shy, muffled voice.

“Uh, um… can we take a little break?”

Though you didn’t know why, you nodded understandingly. “Of course. Is something wrong?”

His brows furrowed as if he couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed. “You—you didn’t notice?”

Laughing at how adorably flustered he looked, you leaned in and kissed him softly. “Notice what, emo boy? If it’s about how good you fingered me, I think we both know how much I enjoyed it.”

“That’s not it…”

Now you were genuinely concerned. “Choso, I don’t understand. What happened?”

Avoiding your gaze, he glanced around the room before finally meeting your eyes with a resigned sigh. “I… I came, too.”

“Oh…”

Alright. You hadn’t noticed that.

After a brief moment of stunned silence, you burst into laughter, making his embarrassment even worse. Determined to make it up to him, you gave him the best blowjob of his life.

And then, as promised, you rode him until you were both drenched in sweat, your moans echoing loud enough for anyone outside to hear.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

choso kamo art by @yappdoll on X.

[astronicht]

I love the very subtle but important presences of bez and pecco in tavullia radio!! and also everything else about it obviously. would love to know if you had any more thoughts about like what they're doing thinking seeing feeling! the image of pecco running into freshly fucked and sucked marc at the espresso machine he can't use and making him a tiny coffee enchants and delights me. in my mind he is suffering horrors. thank you for such a perfect fic!!

thank you Leah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3 <3 So in my head etc Pecco and Marc are already technically or already have been teammates. I was thinking as I wrote it "is this next month? or is this december after the 2025 season?" haha. Either way Pecco is like. In a phase of life where he has decided that he is professionally obligated to have some form of rapport with Marc. And if they've been working together for a bit, they awkwardly kind of already DO, just not. NOT in this setting. Always on neutral Ducati ground. THIS scenario (freshly fucked and sucked marc at vale's ranch, in pecco's friendly ranch kitchen, where he was NOT expecting visitors) is NOT part of this carefully polite professional rapport. Unlike the rest of the guys Pecco can't just grunt and shuffle past (he totally could have; Marc did not want to talk to anyone). He's forcing himself to try to be normal and thus extending everyone's suffering lol. They don't even dislike each other. This somehow makes it all worse.

Pecco made Marc a Turkish coffee instead of just getting out one of the 3-5 mokas kicking around because he has gotten into foodie youtube and Turkish coffee came up, and he carefully bought the correct little cup to boil it in and the correct finely ground coffee and he has like, watched videos on how to get the foam right. Very much your friend who gets really into foodie youtube and is suddenly making what you think of as simple staple dishes with all the right utensils and the correct dipping sauce that no one in ur family ever bothered with. He actually had come in to make a coffee for himself before practice (i think he's considering doing a little mentoring? which never interested him much. Marc appears in moments of Pecco identity or professional crisis, in this universe) so you have to picture Pecco out there somewhere with a little cup of Turkish coffee and haunted eyes, wondering if he can drink it.

Marc actually wanted tea, or to have the balls to wander around the ranch in boxer briefs and a t-shirt smelling violently like sex, but he saw the giant fuck-off luxury espresso machine and was like. the look of it annoyed him so he was definitely going to force it to work or just break it. a little bit his instinct to push at vale a little, to try to figure out where the lines are, or to know for sure that vale isn't going to snap over something normal again.

So that was the mood and then pecco came in and was like oh god. oh god he's going to touch the espresso machine and we'll have to have it repaired again. oh god we won't be able to tell vale that marc did it and we'll have to blame celestino again. Just polite Pecco voice being sooo normal like Hi Marc Would You Like A Coffee :) [intense suffering]. He is overcompensating and being as normal as possible bc marc looks fucked ouuuuut and also is doing the terrifying dead fish eyes and slight grin he does when in extreme physical pain and forced to converse, bc he's dissasociating and also does not care enough to make nice expressions for pecco. (Vale used to fuck himself to sleep despite insomnia -- like he just did -- all the time when Marc was 22 and the memory is a bit much.)

Bez meanwhile is having a total gay... crisis isn't the right word. ring of keys dot mp3. the particular egg-cracking feeling of seeing something you didn't know you desperately wanted until you want it violently and think you're gonna cry for no reason. seeing it is both horrifying (for the same reasons pecco is horrified; marc is fucking motorcycle dad) and makes him want so much it fills his mouth with spit, and that scale of desire is weird and confusing and almost a high. but also he LIKES having a grudge against Marc. It's comforting. It's so awful to be jealous of him, while also realizing he's not jealous that Marc is fucking Vale, because in the end Bez is also being forced to realize that he doesn't exactly want to fuck Vale (well, it's complex, but he doesn't want to fuck Vale like Marc wants to fuck Vale and thus Marc even managed to get a win over Bez by being gay in the way Bez would've liked to have been gay).

Anyway!! Bez got wronged in this fic, I don't want to assign him "italian son with sisters who never learned to make coffee". But i did do that. Also he feels twitchy and guilty about the falsely attributed coffee thing for days. Probably vents to Celestino, who is like "why are you talking about coffee bez i am at the club. did i break the espresso machine again bez?? i can't hear u maybe there's better signal on the roof [call dropped as cele's phone dies and isnt' charged for 3 days]"

[emin-folly]

(@ftl-faster-than-life HI THIS TOOK A HOT MINUTE WEH Also thanks Tumblr for eating my asks again smh) oH BOY, WHERE DO I START Oh Barry, Barry, Barry, my sweet babygirl, how you've been so incredibly villainized by this fandom I'm going to take this opportunity to address and debunk as many misconceptions about Barry's character that I can remember, in the case if someone who doesn't really know Barry all that well is reading this or to hopefully change some people's minds~

* "Barry is boring": Well, yes but actually no. That's the beauty of Barry--he is designed to be your average, unassuming everyday kind of guy. Problem is, a lot of people think that's all there is to him, but that's really only just the surface.

He has flaws. He's prone to making decisions without consulting his family if he thinks it's for the greater good. You need to explicitly tell this man if you wanna be his lover because he absolutely can NOT read romantic cues to save his own life, he's a guilt sponge, he's weird, he LOVES science and comics and is a huge nerd!! He gets jealous!

Guys-Guys?? He's aN ELDRITCH HORROR??? HELLO????? He is CONSTANTLY living in sheer and utter denial and is desperately grasping his extremely thin veneer of being human, and yet, because of this, he actually puts his family in more jeopardy. Do you even realize how fascinating that is

Barry is a character who also deeply craves companionship/people. He struggles with depression and suicidal tendencies ever since being resurrected. He tries so hard to be what everyone else wants him to be and meet their expectations while failing to take care of himself in the process. He's so much more complex than just "Wally's nice father figure who died in Crisis". People also tend to equate "boring" with "being good/kind" which, you know...I very much disagree with but that's just my opinion * "Barry is racist!" LOL This one is just so wildly incorrect. The origin of this misconception comes from an out-of-context panel Justice League of America #173) of Barry being angry about Black Lightning joining the JL. If you read the whole page the panel comes from, you'd see that in actuality Barry is NOT angry about a black man joining the League but rather, he's angry that that seems to be the only reason Oliver wants him and Barry is (rightfully) calling Oliver out on that. There has been no other time where Barry has a problem with people of color

* "Barry is a Republican" I don't even know where this fanon came from. I think this may have originated from Wally's run where Wally was a conservative and he just assumed?? Barry was the same??? Which is SO laughably wrong (Wally bby, stop projecting on your uncle challenge) For the major part of Barry's original run (and honestly, the majority of the Flash runs after that), he remained largely apolitical . People see a white guy from the 60s and automatically assume he's right leaning /shrug * "Barry's a cop!" Yeahhh, not quite actually. He's a CSI, a forensic scientist, not a blue collar badge sporting cop. He's the behind-the-scenes guy, the one who studies the crime scene and tries to piece together the evidence and bring the culprit to justice. There IS a difference. But people don't really care about the technicalities, tho, they just want to hate Barry and him being "basically" a cop is a fast and easy excuse to do so. And DC certainly isn't helping matters with them constantly pushing the cop agenda for him (thanks a lot DC) * "Barry is sexually-repressed": This is a headcanon I seen a fair amount of and--okay, I get it. Barry is shy and reserved and blushes up a mad storm when someone compliments him. I can see how that might lead people to interpret that as him being sexually repressed/being a prude. But like....Buddy. Homie. Amigo.

This man had more canon sex than Hal Jordan. He and Iris were getting it on FREQUENTLY in the Silver Age and that's not me exaggerating. Just look at Flash #197 where it was Barry's birthday and he and Iris made out and stayed in bed practically the whole day together. Maybe you could say they just did that in the morning and they did other things later buuuut I don't believe that for a minute lol. Or! In Flash #195 where Barry was late to a ceremony of a submarine departure because (you guessed it!) he was too busy exploring his wife's mouth. Just because Barry doesn't make sexually-charged remarks or cop a feel from Iris constantly doesn't mean he's opposed to sex. I see it more as him just being way more private and reserved about it, but he IS very much down to fuck as she is (or Hal! Whichever your ship may be~)

While we're kinda on the subject, I'm really not a fan of the whole Barry being "shojo-fied/uwu-fied" thing, if I'm being honest?? Like, yes, if you give him any kind of compliment, he will blush furiously and stutter. But that's different from him being totally ignorant on what sex is/being a weak, delicate little flower who needs a "Big, Strong man" like Hal to save him (also, like...can we stop treating Barry as the "girl" of the ship just because he's skinnier and smaller than Hal pls and thank you). He is an mid-20-30 year old adult man. And a forensic scientist who probably seen a lot of sex-related crimes in his line of work. I'm pretty sure he knows what sex is, guys (in fact, he would be the guy who actually hosts Sex Ed classes bc the misinformation out there is staggering lol)

"Barry is weak/one of the weaker superheroes": Ok, I've never seen anyone say this persay, but it is very evident in how people portray him a lot of the time. They see his smaller frame and the fact that he runs fast to mean he's a glass cannon (Honestly they do this to a lot of the other speedsters as well) which hi! Wrong again! Speedsters are actually INSANELY durable little dudes. He could tank a punch from Darkseid. He can drag MASSIVE SHIPS behind him!! Wally once punched Eobard with the equivalent force of a dwarf star. Yeah. Now I get whump, I personally love it, I do, but I also enjoy seeing Barry being the absolute powerhouse he is. He can vibrate through solid matter, he can manipulate frequencies, and he's incredibly smart with how to use his powers, always thinking up on the spot improv strategies and techniques! Please stop nerfing him, guys, speedsters get too much of that from the writers OTL * "He's conservative because of his buzzcut!" Ok this one actually had like, a whole article?? On it?? And it truly is so wild lmao. When the only thing people can find to hate a character on is his haircut, you know they have no basis for their argument lol * "Barry is abusive!" Nope. Not even close. People love to pull this as a "gotcha" to Barry fans, regarding the panels of "Barry" beating up Wally and verbally abusing him (The Return of Barry Allen). Except....that wasn't Barry, that was Eobard disguised as him. You know...if you read the full run, you would know that lol You literally couldn't find a more least abusive person than Barry lol. Which actually leads me into the next one... * "Barry was an example of toxic masculinity!" AH yes, of course, with how he's so openly kind and compassionate, how he loves kids and animals, how he openly cries and shows emotion, how he's super respectful of people regardless, how he chugs Respect Women juice all day everyday, how he's contributing to fundraisers to help impoverished people and further medical progress, how he's so concerned about the state of the environment and is firmly against consumption of fossil fuels, how he constantly tells his son nephew he's so proud of him and that he's his hero, how he runs home after work bc he's genuinely so excited to see his wife, how he loves her SO much and smothers her with kisses every chance he gets UGH. How does Iris stand him /s And since we're talking about Barry and how the fandom treats him, I can't not talk about the elephant in the room--Flashpoint To start off, lemme preface this real quick:

FLASHPOINT WAS NOT BARRY'S FAULT

He DID NOT intend to trade the lives of his family for his mom He DID NOT run back in time because he was jealous of Wally (uhh lmao what???? Yeah, I can't even begin to explain how wack that is) He DID NOT run back in time because he was "selfish" and "wanted his mommy back" (unfriendly reminder that Nora is a separate character and shouldn't be treated as just an appendage of a male character <333) Some actual context for non-comic readers: Eobard killing his mom is actually an aberration of the true timeline. It was PERFECTLY REASONABLE to assume that it would restore itself to its original version!! Barry had also traveled in time before in the comics without any repercussions or ill effects, so there was NO CONCEIVABLE REASON FOR HIM TO THINK ANYTHING OF THE SCALE OF FLASHPOINT WOULD EVEN HAPPEN If people had read the issues preceding Flashpoint, they'd see Barry did all of that for Nora!! Because he despised the fact that she had to pay with her life because of a villain of his!! That it wasn't right for her to die for his sake!!

"But Eobard said Flashpoint was Barry's fault-!" EOBARD is A BITCH ASS LIAR who purposely twists the truth to hurt Barry as much as he can!! Of COURSE he would say that!! What ACTUALLY happened is that Eobard is the one who somehow made Nora's death such a critical and important fixture in time to the point of just tempering with that can cause a catastrophic domino effect. Flashpoint is EOBARD'S FAULT and HIS ALONE (and Idk, Doctor Manhattan's too ig if you wanna include him)

Barry loves his family and cares so, so, SO EXTREMELY MUCH. He could literally not be any prouder of Wally if he actually tried!! Everything he does is for his family, even sacrificing his own mental health and happiness for them and it makes me SO sad to see everyone cling to this butchered version of him in their minds (though it's not entirely their fault, DC is also definitely to blame)

[tobythewise]

My not-so-secret favorite ship is Dorian x Anders and I adore hurt/comfort (Anders is just so good for it)! So, with that in mind, I’ll suggest “It would have been a lot easier to treat if you’d mentioned it sooner.” For Dorian x Anders, if you’re up for it!

Thank you so much for this prompt!! Dorian/Anders is ALSO one of my secret favorite ships (although tbh I just love anyone with Anders don't at me... LOL)

Written for @dadrunkwriting featuring Inquisitor Anders, hurt/comfort, getting together

“Gods damn it, Dorian,” Anders grits through clenched teeth. He winces as Dorian slides out of his pants fully. Normally, the sight of an attractive man getting naked would bring Anders to his knees. 

Dorian makes a broken noise, sitting down on the bench, carefully pulling the front of his shirt down to cover his dick while giving Anders the full view of his upper thigh. They’d just gotten back from that cursed swampy marsh. He’s not sure his boots will ever be dry again. 

Apparently, Dorian took a knife to the upper thigh and instead of telling Anders about it straight away, the handsome mage decided it was fine and would heal on it’s own. What’s the point of being the Inquisitor if the people who follow you won’t use your spirit healing for their benefit?

Anders sighs, poking and prodding at the wound. It’s clearly infected. Probably a mix of undead grossness, swampy muck, and sweat being pressed into the wound inside Dorian’s tight pants. He’s not sure he can use his magic to pull the infection out. He’ll need to use herbs and once the infection is gone, he’ll be able to close it up with his magic. 

“See,” Dorian says, his voice clearly strained as he puts on an easy smile. “It doesn’t look all that bad.”

“Not that bad? Are you trying to convince yourself?”

Dorian lets out an awkward chuckle. What is it with Anders falling for men who can’t seem to take care of themselves? Something like this could be deadly if they’re not careful. Blood poisoning is no laughing matter. 

“This would have been a lot easier to treat if you’d mentioned it sooner.”

Dorian’s eyes dart away. “I didn’t want to be a bother, darling. You were so busy with,” Dorian flicks his wrist in a circle, gesturing around them. “You’re saving the world. Every day you’re on a new mission, saving lives, healing every soldier you can get your hands on. You deplete your mana until you’re glowing with Justice’s juices. I didn’t want to add anything more to your plate.”

Oh. 

Anders’ heart skips a beat at the idea of Dorian caring for him. He wanted to protect Anders, even if the idea of hiding an injury is stupid in Anders’ book. It’s the thought that counts. 

Anders hums softly, reaching into his bag and bringing out a jar of poultice. “This is going to hurt,” he says softly before putting a large amount directly into the wound. Dorian whimpers but Anders is careful and uses a tiny bit of magic to soothe the inflammation. Then he wraps up the wound with clean bandages. 

Sweat drips down the side of Dorian’s brow, his eyes glued to Anders’ face. 

“I’ll need to change these every morning and as soon as the infection has run its course, I’ll be able to properly seal and heal.”

Dorian’s hand touches Anders’ wrist, stopping him from pulling away. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t want to be just another burden.”

“Dorian,” Anders breathes out. He’s still on his knees, between Dorian’s legs. They’re so close, achingly close, yet at the same time Anders wishes they were closer. “I’m not upset. I was worried. If anything happened to you--” Anders has lost too many people that he loves. He doesn’t think he’ll survive going through that yet again. 

It would be better to put distance between them. He can’t get hurt if he doesn’t love again. 

Unfortunately, it’s too late for that. 

“Nothing is going to happen to me. Do you really think a little flesh wound could stop the evil magister from Tevinter who surely does blood magic while he’s reading those evil books all night?”

Anders’ eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, unable to stop the surprised chuckle that leaves him. “Is that the current rumor?”

“Yes,” Dorian says, raising his nose in the air. “There’s also a rumor about how I’m corrupting the Inquisitor.”

“Really? If anything, the abomination is corrupting the mages.”

“Nonsense. I’ve seen my fair share of abominations and none of them hold a candle to you. A handsome renegade if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Don’t let Varric hear you say that,” Anders says with a smile.

The hand on his wrist moves up to his face, gently cupping his face. “You have everything on your shoulders, Anders. You do so much for everyone. Who takes care of you?” Anders can’t meet Dorian’s eyes. “Ah, as I suspected.”

Dorian cups his chin, forcing him to raise his face. “I’m going to kiss you now. Is that agreeable?”

“Is that? By the Maker, Dorian. Yes.” 

They lean into each other, their lips meeting. Anders doesn’t remember the last time he did something just for him, but this kiss? This is just for him. The world fades away. There’s no anchor running up his arm, there’s no Corypheus, there’s no demon army. There’s just Dorian and Anders. 

“Every time I love, it ends in disaster,” Anders whispers against Dorian’s lips. Despite how perfect this moment is, he feels like he has to warn Dorian. 

Dorian huffs against his lips. “We’ve only just started and you’re already planning on it ending?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s okay if you do. You’re the best healer I know. Let yourself have this. Let me have this. You’re not the only one who hasn’t let himself imagine love.”

Anders wants to fight against this but he can’t. Dorian is right. There’s no guarantee of tomorrow, so why not embrace the here and now. This might not last but that’s no reason to cut it off before it even has time to bloom. 

Instead of fighting, Anders embraces these feelings welling up inside his chest. He grabs the back of Dorian’s neck and kisses him again. 

[wren-galathinyus]

a little late to this game and I can't even give my full notes like the previous two times (I'm at work and can't do the second watch through I do to take note of my thoughts) but I would like to scream regardless, sp here are a few disjointed thoughts and feelings I'm screaming into the void!

as always, spoilers for arcane, the final act, under the cut

-LESBIAN SEX LETS GO WE FUCKINGGGG WOONNNNNNNNNNNNNN 🎉🎉🎉🎉🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

-but on a serious note for that thought, I'm so fucking happy that we got to have this. these two complex, beautiful, awful amazing women who are unapologetically queer and finally get their shit together to realise, the world isn't gonna wait for us, let's have sex, let's enjoy it. the fumble that vi makes with caits fancy belt, the delicate and healing way that cait holds and undresses vi, the full shot of vi's back tattoo, the fact that they can't keep their hands off each other and can't stop smiling! fuck! this was everything to me if you couldn't tell. also so much appreciation to the fact that this scene is an exact parallel to their first meeting!

-yes Mel get it with your sexy golden magic. I can't wait for the spin off series that will come from thus show cus I think it'll explore the black Rose and noxus war and I can't wait to see more of them!

-cait fighting desperate and dirty while still being so smart you have my heart (also cait with an eyepatch, fuccckkkkkkkkkk

-Maddie's betrayal lol, and the thanks for the warmth, bitch what warmth, cait was so mean to you even when you were sleeping together 😂

-the alternate reality???? oughh, oug oww, I need to lie down and cry for a whole week about that. everyone being alive except vi??? that shit hurted. also, domestic and therapised powder was everything I didn't know I needed and I'm so glad that when ekko figured out the anomaly that that timelines ekko came back to her. timebomb so cannon (also adore ekko for this entire act, every single second of it)

-jayvik mutual destruction is so them actually, and I'm glad they were together in the end. also sorcerer older vik had to be my favourite of his character designs. he looks so soft and at peace

-ambessas death is really not something I though we would see, or at least not in the way that it happened. but it's almost bitter-sweet that her death was nesacary for Mel to graduate to wolf in her eyes

-look, heimerdingers sacrifice was cute and heartfelt, but I really didn't have any attachment to the guy and was just glad that ekko made it home. very cute little song though

-Jinx is fucking dead and I hate it. yes it was in character, she did her one last good thing and just wanted to rest, but damn why did it have to be like that , but on the other hand, it leaves open the spot for powder to take hold of the narrative, because don't think I didn't see those hextech gems girl. she is everything to me and I really hope she's apart of whatever story comes next (I'm praying that powder gets to see vi all grown up, and that her older sister is okay, and that vi gets to see powder, the girl she might have been, and also that vi can see her brothers all grown up) (but that's all just wishful thinking)

-btw!! I always had faith in the writers. I love how this season came out on the full. it's absolutely amazing to me how they have managed to create on of if not the highest quality animated TV show ever. it was admittedly rushed, and I would have loved to see all these plot threads tugged at thoroughly before being tied up, but I still think what we got was a masterpiece

-jayce I did not like you in season one but I loved you in season two, and I held out hope that we would see why you did what you did, and it was so fucking perfect I would like to kick all of the jayce haters, just a little in the shins

-back to Jinx, it was genuinely so heartbreaking to see her catatonic over the loss of Isha and I hope they're together again now

-final form (herald) vik was pretty cool I like how it looked compared to his LoL design

-cait and Mel team up was something I didn't know I needed but damn it was good. the gays and girl kissers were eating well this weekend

-the animation of powder and ekko dancing? think I'll just go cry for another week for that alone, and their kiss!!??!? screaming crying

okay that's all I can think of for now. I may post more, I may not. I will absolutely be reposting like crazy though. agree or disagree with me, I want to hear your thoughts!

[ckret2]

I just wanted to say a few things.

#1 you are an amazing writer, and your work gave me a reason to pick up a book again.

#2 If Bill can disasozeate (pardon my spelling) for millions of years, why does he simply not do that in The Void? Perhaps it is the feeling of control. He cannot leave the void unless he is let out and that is terrifying to him. Perhaps it is that he is waiting on nothing. I remember it was stated in that same chapter that he feels as if he is waiting on nothing.

#3 how to I view your older chapters on this fic? I am extremely new to Tumblr and I just got here from your A03. Do I simply have to keep scrolling? Thank you very much and please have a truly wonderful day! :D

-Vivian

vivian-za-determined-luna-moth asked:

'Ight so nvm, I am dumb and did not read your pinned comment.

I cannot wait to read more of your fantastic work!

:D

hey, you found it and that's what's important lol. God it would be such a dick move if i forced people to even just scroll back through all the posts I've tagged about this fic, considering uh,

... that's a lot of tagged posts.

Re: #2: I think you asked me the same question on AO3, but as far as I know AO3 doesn't send email notifications to guest accounts, so you probably didn't see my reply over there! So I'll copy-paste it here. (If you DID see my reply... lol sorry for copy/pasting at you.)

Humans can meditate for hours on end with no serious long-term psychological effects. But total sensory deprivation can make it impossible to tell whether your eyes are open or shut within 10 minutes and can induce hallucinations within 15 minutes. There's a huuuge difference between not much stimulation and NO stimulation.

And I don't think Bill ever once in his life experienced a pure void before Theraprism. OUTSIDE the Nightmare Realm, realities come and go, and his options are limited when there's no nearby dimensions for him to contact; but the Nightmare Realm is always, always there, never empty, and Bill's always in it.

Even if Bill HAD been in total voids before—voluntarily dissociating vs being locked in the solitary wellness void is like the difference between swimming underwater and being held underwater by your throat. Sure, you could just hold your breath to cope with being held underwater—after all, you can probably hold your breath for 30-60 seconds! Why would you panic in under 5 seconds?

But in reality you probably WOULD panic in under 5 seconds. You wouldn't simply calmly hold your breath and wait to be let up. Not unless you agreed to be held underwater, knew how long you'd be held under, and trusted that you'd be let up—and even then, you'd probably have to consciously suppress the instinct to struggle. If you had NONE of those reassurances? You'd panic, flail, and fight. Even though you COULD "simply" hold your breath.

Bill did not agree to go in the water, and he has no way of knowing when or if they'll let him up for air.

[nikidontsurf]

PAUL McCARTNEY in GIVE MY REGARDS TO BROAD STREET (1984)

[vaguely-concerned]

returnal did not cure my depression but it did give me a strangely healing new perspective that makes it all a bit easier to bear. that perspective being 'I may be having a rough time right now, but at least I'm not inside the head of returnal protagonist selene vassos'

[cosmossystem]

so this post may be controversial but i will no longer be silenced. i need people to start being accepting of bears/fat men in general that don't fit into the "dad" vibe or aren't conventionally attractive. quit acting like they've all gotta be incels/mladys/neckbeards/racist weebs etc. because first off, fat hairy nerdy men with patchy beards and glasses or acne or bald spots or whatever are HOT and i'm tired of pretending they're not!!!!!! and more importantly!!! even if you aren't attracted to them (or even if you are) i need you to start being fucking normal about them. because if you keep treating every fat hairy guy with glasses as if he's this rampant bigot, you're just gonna create more divides, and also you're a fucking asshole who equates looks with morality. something something alt-right pipeline, someone's worth is not determined by how attractive you find them, etc. please stop being fatphobic to ppl you don't like lol

[slamrink]

klay 0 points but he looked sexygorgeous doing it + lockdown defense + mavs WIN and dubs clinch so im leaving here with something 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[seawitchkaraoke]

The great thing about my (not tiny but not insanely high) follower count, none of which are tumblr celebrity who can curse me with notes, is generally posts won't get too many more notes than I'm expecting. I'll tag my vaguely insightful fandom takes or jokes with the fandom tags and then sure they'll get notes and occasionally even dip into the hundreds or occasionally thousands of notes. But in a mid sized fandom that just released the most recent episode that's not super surprising and it also isn't a problem bc those posts don't lend themselves to ppl getting super discoursy or mad about them

But the fun thing is. Despite the fact that I do have a decent number of followers at this point, none of them care about my untagged hottakes about "thing I saw that made me mad" of the day. They all follow me for some fandom or another that I once did a good post in and I'm probably consistently disappointing them by not posting about that fandom enough

So I can still be a hater on main bc as long as I resist the urge to maintag whatever I'm ranting about, it's gonna get at most 3 likes from a couple of mutuals.

It's disappointing occasionally bc I'll be like "this is such a hot take and I am so correct you should all reblog" but then I quickly calm down and recognise the blessing of not getting anon hate

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

indefinite hiatus from tumblr [where 'indefinite' does not mean 'forever', merely 'a week? two weeks? a month? who even knows at this point']

still be available for DMs for a bit at least, but I'll not be checking my notifications or dash. tag me if you want me to see something in ??? time :)

love y'all

[gracieheartspedro]

For Cryin’ Out Loud

pairing: post-outbreak! joel miller x afab! reader

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

word count: 7.9k

description: living with joel is complicated, especially when you can’t sleep due to nightmares. when you find yourself in his bed, you can’t help yourself. but joel sure can. give him a day to mull it over.

warnings: pretty slow burn, kinda forced proximity, kinda angsty, unspecified age gap (don’t like it, don’t read it), joel gives you tons of nicknames (darlin’, kiddo, etc.), discussions of nightmares and possible mental illnesses, some fluff, reader isn’t really described, joel is kinda a gaslighter, he’s also a bit pervy, unprotected p in v (wrap it y’all), oral (f! receiving), dirty talk, joel like worships you!!!!!, joel licks his fingers clean, giving genitalia pronouns, joel’s a big boy. think that’s it. lemme know what I missed!

author’s note: I really enjoyed writing this. the idea is pretty simple but I love domestic jackson!joel. I promise i’ll try to switch it up soon and write something that isn’t jackson!era lol. support your fav fics by reblogging and commenting!! thanks love ya <3

For some reason, you always find yourself standing at the threshold of the front door when you cannot sleep. 

The air was especially brisk tonight. You wrapped yourself in a gray chunky sweater you found in the lost and found in Jackson’s thrift store, hoping to regain some warmth. Your bed may have been comfortable, but it was the place where nightmares usually plagued you. 

It was too late to be awake, and you knew that if you were caught, you would hear it from Joel. He always reprimanded you. Every time he caught you up late, it was like your father woke up and found your hand in the cookie jar. 

The dynamic between you two had changed since arriving in Jackson, and you almost resented him for it. When it was just you, him, and Ellie, you were managing a family unit. Joel was always the protective father, you being the mom or the voice of reason, and Ellie being chaos. 

When Ellie and Joel’s relationship shifted, he took on a fatherly role for you. It bothered you. A lot. 

In a moment of contemplation, you hear footsteps coming down the steps behind you. 

He’s wearing flannel pajama pants and no shirt, his hairy tummy something you did not see often. 

“What are you doing awake?” He questions, his voice groggy with a twinge of annoyance. 

You do not feel like explaining yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without a justification. 

You huff, leaning your back against the door frame so you can get a full look at the broad man. “Can’t sleep. Thought staring into the darkness would help.”

He grunts, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “How’s that workin’ for you, sweetheart?”

You could not close your eyes without the haunting dreams that seemed lively and so real. Every night, you had the same recurring ones. You were being chased, hunted, or murdered. Or all of the above. You would wake in a cold sweat, not wanting to shut your eyelids ever again. 

“Hm,” You say, staring back outside for a brief moment, “‘Was better when you weren’t looking over my shoulder.”

He chuckles, “Get back to bed.”

“I can’t, Joel.”

“You can and will. You’re no good when you’re tired.”

“If I close my eyes, Joel, I will just have the same goddamn nightmares I have every night. And I will end up doing what I’m doing now, which is trying to get some fresh air to forget them.”

“You’re not gonna forget ‘em with some fresh air. You just need to… get over them.”

The breeze picks up as soon as he says it, almost like the world knew the tension would have to be broken with some frigid air. You retort with, “And how do you get over yours?”

"I just accept them," he says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I don't have time to dwell on them. There's always more important things to worry about."

"I'm more tired in the morning when I just endure them." You explain, trying not to cry about it. But you are so sick of them. The same thing every night.

“I get it. One day they will subside, I’m sure of it. But for now, you gotta-”

You just want him to shut up. At the same time, your mind is trying to remember the last time you did not have a nightmare. The memory makes your stomach churn. “You remember that one time we were forced to share that sleeping bag? Back in Pittsburgh?”

“Yeah,” His tone was wary, “What about it?”

"That was the first night I didn't have it." You explain, your voice a bit shaking at the insinuation. You don’t want to face the fact that Joel, the man that you have known for going on 10 years, kept your nightmares at bay. The same man who continuously rejected you and told you that he was old enough to be your dad. The same man that told you no, I don’t like you like that. I never will. That Joel. 

“And? Why are you bringing this up now?”

"Because every night I go to my bed and I'm forced to face them alone. When you were there... they didn't even bother holding my mind hostage.”

He took another step closer, closing some of the distance between you two. He towers over you and you can’t help but stare up at him in awe. Joel has always been a complicated part of your life. You consider him your sexual awakening, honestly, but he will never ever know that. Over the years, he’s only gotten more handsome. 

But now, he has a curious expression written all over his face.

"Are you saying you want to share a bed with me?" he asks, his voice gruff and low.

You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to answer. You knew that was stepping over a boundary for Joel. He liked his space. He didn’t like you impeding on that space, especially. Your bedroom was the furthest away from his for a reason.

"I don't know." You manage to say.

Joel's gaze darkened, his expression was completely unreadable. You wish you could read his mind, but you should be grateful you can not. 

Because in Joel’s mind, he’s trying to formulate a way to convince you to stay away from him altogether. The wall he has built over the last decade was intentional. He did not want to hurt you any further. He already knew you had feelings for him, but he was an old man. He did not want to drag you into his mess, all the baggage he carried. He looked after you, he shared a home with you, and that’s it. Strictly platonic. 

He shifted on his feet a little, unable to tear his eyes away from you. You shook like a little leaf.

"You don't know?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble.

You nod, "I don't know if I want that."

You do want that. But you want more, too. You knew you would be playing with fire. You would just be disappointed. 

Joel’s temptations are buried deep but they still fester every now and again. Some days he would catch a glance at you getting dressed in the crack of your door and have to take a cold shower. As soon as he felt those emotions bubble in his chest, he would try to distract himself. Maybe he would take a longer patrol. Maybe he would go to the Tipsy Bison and try to find a woman to take home. That one never really worked. 

“Well, what do you want then? Because standin’ at the door and letting all the cold air in ain’t gonna work for me or you.”

You look down at your picked-over fingernails and contemplate your next sentence. You don't want to be heartbroken in the morning when you wake up and he's there sleeping peacefully next to you and you're not... his.

"I want to sleep with you."

Joel was not expecting such a blunt response from you, but he appreciated you not beating around the bush about it. He gestures for you to step out of the doorway so he can shut the door, which you do. 

He looked down at you, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the exhaustion and uncertainty. 

"You sure?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.

You just nod as he locks the front door. You couldn’t believe you were doing this. 

Joel couldn’t believe it either. Maybe it was the tiredness or the instincts he felt to protect you, but he was not mad at the idea of sharing his bed with you. 

You signal for him to go upstairs, “You lead the way.”

-

Joel’s room was always off-limits to you. So when you step into his small little world, you take it all in. 

The artwork around the room was mainly nature landscapes. He had a big dresser right at the room's entrance with picture frames of Sarah, Ellie, and other family members. You were even included in one photo—a picture of you and him on some horses from last year. 

A shirt littered one side of the bed, so you took that as it was probably his side. Unfortunately for you, it was the right side. You felt a pang of guilt realizing you would probably end up restlessly lying in Joel’s bed if you were stuck on the left. 

Before he can pull back the blanket for himself, you stop him. 

“Uh, can I sleep on that side?”

He completely halts in his motions, turning his head towards you with a blank expression. “My side? Why?”

You lick your lips, already regretting this whole thing. 

“Because I have had this superstition since I was a kid that I could only sleep on the right side of the bed."

Joel wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. He can tell you are at war in your head about the question, your expression practically anticipating his rejection. 

"Superstitions, huh?" he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips."You and your weird beliefs."

You watch as he crosses to the other side of the bed and lifts the blanket. Is he actually letting you have his side? Maybe he doesn’t hate you. 

“You could also call it a compulsion, but superstitions seem more fun and less like a mental illness.”

He laughs this time, his deep chuckle making you feel a bit more relaxed about the situation. You did not feel like a burden as much. You walk to the right side and pull back his navy blue sheets and blanket. The spot looks warm and inviting so when you crawl in next to Joel, you start to realize that you’re back in the same situation you were in years ago in that sleeping bag. He was so close and warm and you wanted nothing more but for him to hold you and keep you comfortable.

But then another thing came to mind before you could imagine his arms around you. 

You usually sleep on your right side or back, but now you don't know what to do because you didn't know how Joel slept.

"Do you sleep on your side or back?"

Joel studies you as you fidget beside him, your uncertainty causing him to smirk slightly. It was almost endearing, seeing you be completely out of control of your surroundings. He remembers back when you were traveling with him you had an obsessive need to straighten up everything before you fell asleep. You had to roll yourself up in your sleeping bag the same way every night. 

"Usually on my back," he said finally. "But I can sleep on my side, too."

You swallow, trying to picture yourself sleeping. For some reason you felt the urge to have control of the situation, dictating exactly how he has to sleep, too. "Can I... I'll sleep on my side if you can sleep on your back? Is that okay?"

Joel had to suppress a smirk at your request. You knew he was trying to hold back a snarky remark. Instead, he surprises you.

"Sure, you can sleep on your side," he agreed, shifting his body weight onto his back, "’n I'll sleep on my back. No big deal."

You turn to face him, tucking the pillow further under your head. You can tell his eyes are heavy from exhaustion. You know it's time to shut up, to go to sleep, but you feel the need to say something else to him. Sometimes your brain concocts questions and statements and you know you shouldn’t say them, but your mouth betrays you.  

"When was the last time you had a girl in your bed?"

Why the fuck would you ask that? You think to yourself. It fell out of your mouth like drool.

Joel's eyes widened at your blunt question, surprise and a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. You knew he was probably just expecting you to lay here next to him, maybe roll around a bit, then sleep. But instead, it’s an interrogation.

He took a deep breath, his mind rattling around as he tried to think of a response. He didn't want to admit what his genuine answer was to you, but he too could not help himself.

"Why do you want to know that?" he asks, his voice steely.

You hate that he even responded because now you needed to defend yourself.

"I uh, don't know. I don't know why it matters."

Joel chuckled softly, noting that you probably just had a case of word vomit. You always told him you were infamous for putting your foot in your mouth, especially in awkward situations.

"Curiosity got the better of you, huh?" he asks, rubbing his face with his hands. “You just can’t help yourself, sweetheart.”

He shifted slightly, rolling onto his side to face you, his gaze studying your expression.

You smirk, grateful that he's letting it slide. When he turns onto his side and he's at eye level with you, your face drops a bit. He is ruining the vision in your head. He’s throwing a wrench in your plans.

"You're supposed to be on your back, sir."

Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your comment. He knew he was supposed to be on his back, but the new angle allowed him to see you better in the faint moonlight.

"Don't worry," he said, a hint of humor in his voice. "I'll turn back over in a minute. Just... enjoying the view for a bit."

You roll your eyes, lifting your hands from under the covers and lightly hitting his arm. You knew he was just fucking with you now. 

"Okay, for that, I want to know the answer to my stupid question."

Joel let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He shook his head, amused by your persistence. You start to think about it and you have never really seen him bring anyone home. Maybe it had been a very long time and he was embarrassed. 

"Alright, alright," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Last time I had a girl in my bed..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes dropping to the covers, his mind racing to find the right words.

"Go on..."

Joel took another deep breath, his voice dropping even lower as he spoke.

"It's been a long time, kiddo," he admitted, his voice pierced with a bit of shame. "Almost ten years, if I'm being honest."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "No way... You've never just... got it on with someone in bed?"

Joel's face flushed with embarrassment at your blunt question, a mix of shock and slight irritation flashing across his eyes.

"Jesus, you really don't hold back, do ya?" he muttered. He shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable in a different way. He hadn't expected the conversation to turn so personal, so quickly and he did not want to face you anymore. He was mortified. 

You mentally slap yourself in the face.

"I'm sorry, I am just tired and delusional. Uh, you don't have to answer that."

Joel could practically feel the humiliation radiating off you and he too felt the exact same way. You knew how to add to an already awkward situation.

"No, no, it's fine," he reassured you, his voice a bit gentler now. "I get it. You're tired, and your filter has taken a backseat."

"Yeah, exactly..."

He shifted on the bed, turning onto his back again, his gaze shifting to the ceiling, avoiding your curious stare.

You could not help but stare at his side profile. A prominent straight nose. His downturned lips are surrounded by some fine lines that show his age. He was a beautiful man now, but you can’t help but imagine him back in his 20s. He had to have been a hit with the ladies back then.

Joel could feel your gaze on him, studying his face. And while you were not scrutinizing him, he felt like a commodity in a museum or something.  He forced himself to keep his gaze on the ceiling, refusing to meet your eyes.

"So… ten years and no sex?”

You could seriously, not help yourself.

"Correct.” He grumbles, still not meeting your stare.

"Damn, Joel." You mutter, adjusting a bit to sit up a little more on your pillow. "I seriously thought you were sleeping around the whole time we have been in Jackson.”

He finally turns your way, a bit of offense on his face. “Why would you think that?”

You shrug, not wanting to insult him. But that’s how you formulated your grudge towards him. It was easy to just chalk everything up to problems with random women you have seen around town. 

“You just give off the energy…”

“What?”

You huff, laying back on the pillow. “I don’t know, Joel! I feel like when I’m around you all the ladies think you’re handsome. They stare.”

“They are staring because you’re always following me around and we aren’t married or… together. They think we are odd.” 

You had never heard such things around Jackson, but it does sort of make sense. Everyone was probably just confused because you two lived together but were not a couple. You can admit it is bizarre, but it just did not feel like an option any other way, in your mind. So Tommy gave you two a bigger house and you set up separate rooms. 

But in actuality, Joel secretly told Tommy that he did not want you too far from him. So when Tommy couldn’t give you any other houses nearby, Joel just told him that you two would be roommates.

“Well fuck ‘em.” You mutter, trying not to sound too offended by the thought of people gossiping about you two.

Joel just nods. You settle by tucking your arm under your pillow. You yawn, the exhaustion now taking over your body. You watch Joel grab a pair of reading glasses from the side table and a book. You decide not to bother him, especially because he probably wanted to just read himself to sleep instead of being interrogated by you any further.

You close your eyes and eventually fall asleep. The deeper you get, Joel notices how your breathing pattern changes. When he’s finally ready to get some shut-eye as well, he watches as your body crawls closer to him. Your arm swings over his stomach and rests on his forearm. He is so shocked he does not move a muscle. 

You adjust some more, not knowing what you are doing. Your leg creeps up and tucks right between his. You snuggle your face right into his chest. The only movement Joel decides to make is slinging his arm over your shoulders to pull you in tighter. 

It’s the first time in years that you two slept soundly, with no interruptions. No nightmares, no sudden intrusions, nothing. Silence and snores fill the room and that’s it.

-

When you wake up, it’s slow and gradual. Your brain hardly computes that you’re laying on top of Joel’s shirtless frame, until your hand runs across his warm tummy. 

You crook your neck up, looking at the handsome man you are spreading across. 

His lips are slightly ajar, letting out hardly-there snores. They are so pretty and pink and you cannot help but touch them with feather-like fingertips. You would feel so guilty waking him up-

His eyes slowly open taking notice of your actions even though you tried not to stir him. Your eyes fly open in shock, but he does not seem very annoyed. He smiles. 

“Mornin’ darlin’,” He says in a deep sleep-laced voice. You smile back at him, loving that he decided to call you the nickname you always got giddy over. You press your fingers into his chest before replying.

“I didn’t have a nightmare.”

His hand comes up from your shoulders and tucks some hair behind your ear as he stares down at you, “That’s good kiddo. I’m glad you slept well.”

The intimacy is almost too much. The way this is how it would be if you woke up to Joel every morning. It sends your brain into overdrive and you force yourself to ruin it a bit.

“Woulda slept even better if you didn’t talk so much in your sleep.”

Joel froze for a moment, his cheeks immediately flushing pink with embarrassment. He sits up a bit more, adjusting to the brighter lighting in his room. He knew he had a problem with talking in his sleep. Ellie used to talk about it all the time. He dreaded hearing what he was saying while curled up next to you.

"Uh... what did I say?" he asked, trying to maintain his composure.

"Something about it felt so good to be pressed up against someone, I don't know..." 

You could not help yourself and started to laugh. You knew you were going to get a rise out of him. 

Joel's face flushed an even deeper shade of pink as you started to laugh, clearly amused by your joke. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to come up with an excuse. He was just dreaming, it was not about you. 

"W-what?" he spluttered out instead of making an excuse. "I didn't... I didn't say anything like that."

You have a shit-eating grin on your face and you press your hands on his chest to prop yourself up. You enjoyed watching him squirm.

Joel's eyes flickered down to your hands on his chest. He sickly thought they felt so right placed there. He imagined what you would look like fully mounting him. 

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but you could see through his stone-cold exterior.

"You're messing with me, aren't you?" he grumbled, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Fully fuckin' with you." You giggle, hoping he is not really that mad at you. 

“You’re a brat.”

You move your foot slightly, running it up his leg. It sends shockwaves up his body, having you so close and moving around so seamlessly. 

"No, you said something about how beautiful, alluring, and incredible I am. Said I was the girl of your dreams…"

"Yeah, right," he said, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice. "You expect me to believe that?"

"So, you don't believe me?"

"No, I don't believe you," he says, his voice stern but playful. "I think you're a dirty little liar, trying to play me for a fool."

"A dirty little liar, huh? Well, it's good to know that you don't think I'm beautiful, alluring, and incredible." You giggle at his acknowledgment, knowing he caught you red-handed.

"Oh, I never said that," he smirked, a hint of teasing in his voice. "You are all of those things, darlin’. But you're also a dirty little liar who likes to play games."

"So you think I'm beautiful?" You crack, the biggest smile painted on your face. You don’t even care that he’s calling you a liar because it does not matter. Joel thinks you are beautiful. 

“‘Course I do.”

You push yourself up onto your butt, sitting crisscross next to him. He secretly wishes you were still curled up on top of him. 

“You always this nice in the morning?” You ponder, your fingertips starting to toy with the hair on his stomach. He tries not to pay mind to it, letting you have full access to touch him. 

But it’s driving him insane. The way you look freshly woken up, completely enamored with the idea of him calling you beautiful. You have some puffiness under your eyes and your lips are more swollen than usual.

“I am always nice to you.”

You let out a scoff, “No, you’re not.”

He notices the shift in your tone and starts to get defensive, “Now you’re just lyin’.” 

Joel always loved to gaslight you in these situations. You knew better than to let him get away with it, especially now. “No there was that one time you told me you did not like me and that you would never like me. How you are old enough to be my dad-”

“Because I am!”

And there’s the wall. The only constant in you two’s relationship. He was so good at throwing it up when feelings were being expressed. When vulnerability was presented, Joel could not help but reject it. 

“And the world’s fuckin’ ended, Joel! Big deal!” You almost yell, moving your hands from him. 

Why does he already miss your hands?

He huffs, crossing his arms over his soft chest. “We have had this conversation for the last 10 years.’M not sure why we keep rehashing it.”

“And every time you turn me down it’s another fuckin’ stab in the heart.”

“You know why we can’t,” He practically growls. You can not stand to even look at him anymore with your bitterness and irritation taking over. 

“Whatever, Joel.” 

As soon as you say it, you’re already leaving his room and heading to your own. When you slam the door, you hope you have made your point. You want to scream and punch a hole in the wall, but instead you just furiously stomp around the room and grab your clothes. You had patrol at noon, so you needed to get to the mess hall before breakfast was over. You try not to cry as you strip down and get dressed.

Joel sits in bed, reeling. He hates that it has become a conversation every six months. He hated that rejecting you always sent you into a spiral of hating him for extended periods. It’s not that he did not want you, it was simply just not in the cards. He was too old to be in love. He was too old to play house with you. He just could not submit to the idea of leading you on, especially because you had so much more life to live. 

He finally works up the courage to get out of bed and put on some clothes. He opts for putting on his typical jeans and thick flannel. It was getting colder and he knew by the end of the winter, you would end up with half his flannels anyway, so he had to enjoy them while he had them. 

You storm downstairs, going to the back door for your boots when you spot him in the kitchen. 

“You got pat-”

“Yes.” You respond quickly, shoving your foot into your shoes. He stands behind you with a mug full of tea, watching your every move. 

“Who are you-”

“Jesse.”

He was asking his usual questions, which you were not in the mood to answer. 

“Hey, can you-”

You snap your head back at him, giving him the glare you gave him as a warning usually. By now, he takes it as a hint and backs off. But not this time. 

“Can I what?”

He rolls his eyes, “Can you fuckin’ not be a brat about this?”

You wish your glare came with knives. If that were the case, Joel Miller would be dead on his kitchen floor. 

You are so thrown off by the question that you just watch him get angrier when you do not respond. 

“Are you serious, right now?” You press, keeping your voice from cracking. 

He brings the mug up to his mouth, taking an obnoxious sip. When he pulls the mug away, you notice how steaming it is. “You always pull this shit-”

“No, you do! You do this shit to me every fuckin’ time, Joel. You sweet talk me, make me feel comfortable, have me lapping everything up in the palm of your hands, and then you snatch it away. Then have the audacity to get mad at me!”

You are yelling now and it is throwing him off. Joel knows better than to interrupt you like you do to him. You were the kind of person who would calm down if you felt heard. 

The way he knew you down to your core made this all so painful. Because if he was not so stubborn and true to his convictions, he would have fucked you the moment you touched his lips this morning. 

“I ain’t tryin’ to make this harder than-” “Too fuckin’ late.”

You think back to the moment last night when you knew you were going to hurt your own feelings by sleeping with him. You knew better, yet here you are, still blaming him for your stupidity.

He stands there, still holding his mug, staring you down like a wounded doe who got pierced with an arrow. He feels guilty like he misled you. Before he can say anything, you are lacing up your boots and leaving out the front door without another word. 

-

All day long, Joel wanders around the house trying to get rid of the pit in his stomach. Nothing works. A shower. Reading a book. Cutting wood. As soon as he tried to use laundry as a distraction, he reached into his hamper and found one of your t-shirts. He held it close and smelled it, trying to wrap his head around how he got here. 

You spend all day, silently fuming on horseback with Jesse. When he tries to get you to open up, you ice him out and tell him to focus on the trail in front of him. 

You get back by sundown, the sun setting making it a lot chiller than you expected. You decide to take the long way home, wanting to avoid being home for as long as possible. You were not ready to face Joel, let alone share a space with him. But unfortunately, during your patrol, you fell into some mud and needed a shower. The more time it spent on your clothes and body, the grosser you felt. 

You open the front door, announcing that you are home. It was a habit you and Joel developed after you both pulled guns on each other during late-night arrivals. 

You hear Joel mumble something from the living room, but you do not stop to listen and continue on your way upstairs to the bathroom. 

You strip down as soon as the door is closed, tossing your muddy clothing into a hamper in the corner. You would get them washed and hung as soon as you shower off. 

You hear Joel’s footsteps creaking around the upstairs hallway as you scrub your body with homemade soap and warm water. 

When you start to dry yourself off, you hear Joel grunting something in the hallway. You wrap yourself in a towel and peek your head out the door. He’s on his hands and knees wiping something off the hardwood. “What’s goin’ on?”

He looks up at you, your body only covered in a bleach-stained blue towel. It makes his head spin. He can’t even be mad that you tracked in mud. 

He swallows, gripping the cloth he’s using tighter. “You got mud everywhere.”

You step out, not even really thinking about the fact that you are not properly dressed in front of Joel. You were still mad at him, anyway. Who cares what he thinks?

“Sorry, I could’ve cleaned it up.”

He returns to wiping the wood, “It’s fine, I got it, kiddo.”

You accept his response and move on to your room, but the draft you leave behind drifts to Joel’s nostrils. Your soap smells like lavender and it always sends his mind racing when you are fresh from a shower. He clears his throat, trying to get through the emotions filling his chest. 

But it’s been like this all day. You’re all around him even when you’re not physically here. How can he get away from you? Why is he trying to run in the first place?

He’s on his knees in your hallway, cleaning up your mess, sniffing the air you leave behind because he’s fucking in love with you and he cannot help himself anymore. 

Joel starts to think about how peaceful he felt having you next to him last night and how he would love to feel that way every night. For once he’s not thinking about what everyone else would think. For once he’s thinking selfishly and caving into every desire he has ever pondered about you. How would you feel under him? How would your lips feel pressed against his pulse point? 

His body was on fire, thinking about you. 

You are fiddling with some clothes in your dresser after you flick on the overhead light. You do not hear him come into your room behind you. 

You are so wrapped up in your own thoughts that when he clears his throat to announce he’s in your room, you scream. Loud. 

“For cryin’ out loud, woman!” 

You grip your towel tighter when you turn and see him standing at your mercy. 

“Joel, what the fuck?” You yell, gesturing to the fact that you are practically naked. He does not care, of course, and his ears are ringing from your piercing scream. He gathers himself as you shift back, trying to create some distance from him.

He is trying not to gawk at the fact that your grip on the towel against your chest is only pushing up your cleavage. He’s biting back everything. “Can we talk?”

“Talk about what? The fact you crept into my room when I was trying to change? Are we past boundaries now?” 

You are pissed, trying not to rattle off another million things to discuss with him. He’s only really talking about one thing. 

He scoffs at your last statement. “Boundaries were already out the window when you crawled into bed with me last night.”

Silence fills the room as you completely stop breathing. The anger you originally felt dissipates. 

“Joel-“

“I ain’t doin’ this back and forth anymore,” He starts shifting in his spot, unsure if he really should be doing this. “I can’t live how I've been livin’. Somethin’s gotta give.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. 

“You are the one who won’t give, Joel.”

As soon as you say it, he practically drags himself over to you. Completely destitute. You have never seen him look so desperate before. You can tell that he’s been at war with himself ever since you left this morning. His eyes never lied.

His hand creeps up your bare arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

But then you remember his words from this morning. You start feeling like this is just a moment of weakness for him and that he will regret it later. You had to stop it before it was too late. You did not want to deal with the consequences. 

“Joel, you said we can’t-”

“Fuck what I said,” He cuts you off, “Do you want this?”

You stare into those brown eyes, searching for a sign of hesitance. You cannot believe Joel is being this vulnerable with you. 

But, you do want him. God, you have wanted him so badly for so long. You have searched for him in every man you have ever been with since knowing him. 

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. He takes note of your parted lips, every word failing you at that moment.

“Darlin’-”

“Yes,” You finally manage. “Yes, I do want this.”

It’s all he needs. He closes the gap between you two by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his space. His lips crash onto yours, not wasting another breath of air waiting to indulge in his sickest fantasies. 

You are all Joel ever dreamed about. He knew that once he caved and physically gave in, his world would be shot and everything would revolve around you. For years it had been a teetering object on a cliff, one nudge would have him falling. He always managed. But now, he was falling head first. 

His lips move so perfectly with your own. Your hand released your towel and found the tufts of his curls at the base of his head. You did not care that the article pooled around your feet, leaving you completely bare in front of Joel. You have wanted this all along. To be uncovered, to be stripped down to the rawest form. He broke the kiss briefly just to scan your naked body, his forehead pressed against your own. 

“Fuck, you are so beautiful.”

Your heart stutters as his hand traces your stomach down to your hips, all the way down to your ass. He stops there, grabbing a handful. 

“I need you,” You choke out before pressing your lips to his over and over again. “Right now.”

He mumbles “jump” into your mouth and you do so, his hands working quickly to hike you up onto his waist. He carries you to your bed, wasting no time dropping you onto your back. 

He cannot get enough of your soft, swollen lips. Every time he pulls away slightly, he dives in again even more aggressively than the last time. 

You are so hypnotized by the way he feels on top of you. In the light, he seems so much broader than he was last night. He’s still fully clothed, to your dismay. You start to tug at his shirt, motioning him to remove the articles that are in your way. 

He throws off his shirt before he stands up at the edge of the bed and pushes down his jeans. 

“Joel… I-“

He just shuts you up with another passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth like he’s trying to melt into your mouth. Your hands trail up his back, gripping onto his shoulders, holding him down so he is pressing against your nude body. 

“God, I have wanted this for so long,” He sputters, trying not to sound too desperate. “Been wanting this.”

That’s when his hand reaches down between your thighs and gathers the wetness your slit has to offer. His fingers dance across it, starting from the top all the way to your spongy entrance. 

“Please, Joel.”

He loves the lust-laced tone you speak with when you say his name. It almost makes him cum there and then. 

You watch as he makes his way down your body, peppering kisses from your shoulder to your hip. When he parts your legs, you feel quite exposed. The adrenaline of being so spread for him manifests into a moan. 

“You are divine, baby.”

The use of that adjective is so-not-Joel that it makes you giggle. He notes your reaction and decides to sink down into you. When his mouth gets close to your core, it’s no longer a laughing matter. 

He uses his fingers again, using them to spread open your pussy lips. He cannot keep his eyes away from how dripping you are. “This all for me?”

“Y-yes, Joel.”

“God, I was a fuckin’ fool for so long. Could’ve had her earlier and I never fuckin’ caved. Such an idiot.”

Him giving your cunt pronouns was enough to have you throwing your head back and shuttering. His touch was magnetic like he knew exactly what buttons to push as he rubbed his fingers and palm over your core. 

“Yeah, you’ve been missin’ out. Every night…” You swallow before looking down at the man that is enamored with your pussy, “E-every night I would lay in this bed, fuckin’ myself just thinkin’ about you.”

He growls at the statement, before teasingly kissing your clit. “Every night, hm, kiddo?”

“God, yes.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as he leans forward more and dives in. His nose is pressed firmly against the top of your pussy, nudging forward every time his tongue enters your hole. When that motion became consistent, you began to note the rumblings in the pit of your stomach. A familiar build-up that you managed to get when you were playing with yourself. 

His fingers move in tandem with his lips and tongue. While his middle and pointer finger slide in and out of you, his lips wrap around your clit. It’s overwhelming and all-consuming. 

You do not know where to center yourself, so your hands grip the bed sheets you were completely soaking as Joel pulls the first orgasm out of you. 

“That’s it, baby, she’s cryin’ for me, hm?”

You hardly make a noise, the orgasm is so earth-shattering that you just writhe on the mattress. 

“Oh my god…” You groan, finally able to catch your breath. When Joel removes his fingers from you, you watch as he slowly brings them up to his lips.

When he inserts them in his mouth, you gawk at him, unsure how to react. He watches your expression and chuckles darkly.

“Mm, never seen a man enjoy the taste of ya?”

You shake your head. “Never expected to hear those words leave your mouth, either.”

“Wait ‘til you hear what else I got to say.”

He stands up beside the bed, grabs your hips, and brings them to the edge. He is tossing you around with ease, bringing your lower body flush with his. He yanks down his briefs, revealing himself to you. You instantly take notice of how well-endowed he is. You never thought you would ever be close to his cock, let alone have it lining up at your entrance. 

“Joel…“ You stop him with your small voice, but still welcoming him in with your legs opened wide, “I don’t know if it will fit.”

He grins, “It will, baby. Just relax for me, okay?”

You watch him slide his member along your center, the feeling so blissfully overstimulating. You whine a bit, raising your hips to his. 

But Joel continues his torture, enjoying the way you’re squirming under him. The way your eyebrows are knitted together, your eyes shut as you grind up into him. It’s the prettiest sight. 

“Ready?”

Your eyes fly open as you watch him ease his way into your core, the sound of squelching filling the room. You don’t think you have ever been this wet for someone. 

“Oh my fuckin’ god, Joel…”

He smiles as he inches in, “Squeezin’ my cock so good, darlin’.”

When he’s fully sheathed inside, he tests the waters by drawing out slowly. You roll your hips in a circle, trying to feel out every inch of him. He fits, but you know once he starts to move faster, the stretch will become overwhelming. 

He’s trying to focus and not blow his load immediately. You look so beautiful below him, your tits slowly shifting back and forth every time he draws back and forth. He reaches out, wanting to feel the flesh between his fingers. God, he craved every inch of you, he realizes. 

You open your legs as far as you can, letting him hit you at a different angle. The movement allows him to slip in a bit more seamlessly, so when he speeds up his thrusts, you don’t feel like you will completely split in half. 

He brings your leg up to hips, and feeling your soft delicate skin against him makes him lose all sense. His hips snap faster the more you moan out for him. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, girl. I can’t believe I was missin’ out on this cunt,” He babbles, “Need this cunt every day from now on. Gonna have you all to myself every night.”

You are too fucked out of your mind to read into those implications.

“‘M all yours, Joel.”

He smiles, slowing down a bit. “Keep talkin’ like that and ‘ll finish a lot sooner than you.”

You sit up a bit, your eyes flickering over his entire body. He notices you checking out his nude frame, which makes him feel a bit more bold. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You love the way his tongue slips into your mouth so effortlessly. When he opens his mouth, his facial hair tickles your nose a bit which makes you smile. When his hips pick back up to a quicker pace, it sends you gasping into his mouth.

“Please, Joel,” You whine, that familiar build starts up but this time it’s like a freight train. Moving so quickly down every nerve ending in your body. “I’m gonna cum.”

“‘M with you, darlin’. Soak this dick. I’m right behind ya.”

His dirty talk causes the crash. Your body practically lifts off the mattress. You cry out so loud you are sure a neighbor could hear you. You try to gain your bearings, but you are panting like you just ran a mile. 

Joel fucks you through it, but the restriction your pussy is putting on his cock sends him over the edge. His hips stutter into yours, his seed emptying into your spent hole. He just keeps repeating your name as his thrusts slow down.

He has never had such a visceral orgasm in his life. His knees are weak and can hardly keep up his weight. He practically falls on top of you, which does not offend you at all. His warm sweaty body on top of you is almost reassuring. 

“You okay, kiddo?” He finally mutters as his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You just nod, bringing your hand up to his salt and pepper hair. You tug lightly, smiling to yourself. 

“I’m more than okay.”

He finally sits up, his cock spilling out of you as he adjusts his position. Your hole drips a mixture of cum onto your newly clean sheets, but you could care less. It’s just another thing to hand wash tonight.

Joel stumbles to the middle of the room, picking up your bath towel. He uses it to wipe himself up before coming over to you. Your legs are still slightly apart so he decides to clean you up a bit. He’s gentle, knowing that you are probably still sensitive.

Once he finishes up, he crawls next to you as you continue to recover. Your bones felt like jello so standing up to adjust yourself was not an option.

So instead of facing him, you stare up at your ceiling fan as his eyes lock onto every detail of your profile. It brings him back to one night you two shared under the stars a couple of years ago. It was his turn to keep watch so you curled up in your sleeping bag by the fire. He admired you from across the flames, the orange hues lit up every angle of your face. It was at that moment that Joel realized that he could not picture his life without you. You had weaseled your way into every facet of his life and he used to resent the impact you had on him. You were younger, more patient but still stubborn like him. You made him laugh, like genuinely laugh, for the first time since the infection. While you may have been a bit impulsive with your emotions, he envied the way you could say exactly what you were thinking. 

Joel did not want to love you, but it was impossible not to. 

You finally look over at him, noticing the softness in his gaze.

“Are you okay?” You pose, scrunching your nose. 

He gives you a toothless smile, his eyes crinkling a bit. “I just can’t wait to sleep next to you for the rest of my life.”

tags of people I love and who may wanna read (no pressure I just love u) (some of u did ask tho) : @ashleyfilm @hockeyhughes @pedrospookie @guiltyasdave @amanitacowboy @myownwholewildworld

[thelostconsultant]

Soft launch vs. hard launch

pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

type: smau

summary: Oscar and Logan are very protective of you, so you and Charles have to get through them before making your relationship public.

liked by logansargeant, charles_leclerc and 35,133 others

yourusername: I wanted to start the day at the gym, but someone knows the way to my heart ☕ logansargeant ❤️

view all comments

user1: You’re in Belgium? On an F1 race weekend?

↳ user2: Can’t wait for the posts about her shenanigans with Logan. 

oscarpiastri: And where’s my coffee?

↳ logansargeant: Get your own.

↳ oscarpiastri: Good to know I can count on my friend.

↳ yourusername: Stop flirting under my post! It will be flooded with shippers in seconds. 

↳ logansargeant: Shhhh, don’t tell him.

↳ oscarpiastri: Tell me what?

↳ yourusername: Nothing. 

↳ oscarpiastri: I hate you both.

↳ oscarpiastri: And see you at the track.

user3: I love these three. They should do a podcast together during the break. 

user4: I wonder who’s dating who. 

↳ user5: It’s a poly relationship, I’m calling it now. 

↳ yourusername: Wrong. 

↳ user4: Then what’s the truth? The suspense is killing us!!!!

↳ yourusername: 🤷‍♀️

charles_leclerc: Photos I can taste in my mouth...

↳ oscarpiastri: What?

↳ charles_leclerc: Her coffee.

liked by oscarpiastri, vancityreynolds and 673,677 others

yourusername: So you wanna know what’s my favorite position? Here, now you know (credit to Debbie Ridpath Ohi)

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logansargeant: Look, there’s Oscar! 😼

↳ oscarpiastri: Haha…

user6: Sometimes I look at her weird posts and I have to remind myself what an amazing fashion model she is beside everything else she does.

user7: You should have taken a photo of yourself doing that. Preferably in a short skirt. 

↳ user8: Dude, gross, fuck off!

↳ logansargeant: Yeah, fuck off.

↳ user9: I love how Logan always shows up to tell assholes off. 

charles_leclerc: Guess the interview didn’t go as planned.

↳ yourusername: Never again. You were right.

↳ oscarpiastri: Wait, what interview?

↳ logansargeant: Hello? Care to answer your phone? 

↳ yourusername: Chill, boys, it’s ok. Already had my rant session with someone. 

↳ charles_leclerc: Anytime.

user10: When did this happen? Can’t remember Charles ever commenting under her posts. 

↳ user11: He has left comments before, but I gotta agree that he’s been suspiciously active lately.

liked by yourusername, heidiklum and 291,329 others

charles_leclerc: Thank you for having me, verawang, I had a good time. Anyway, what do you think, would this one look good on me?

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user12: Considering how often he interacts with yourusername on social media, I'm not even surprised to see he happened to pick her photo.

logansargeant: You're talking about the clothes, right? Because if you're not talking about the clothes, we will have to talk.

↳ charles_leclerc: Am I in trouble?

↳ oscarpiastri: After writing, "would this one look good on me?" Yeah, you are. Pervert.

↳ charles_leclerc: I'll send you to your room, son.

↳ logansargeant: Pulling the adoption card? Tsk, you can't pull that on me. Confess.

yourusername: *pulls out the popcorn*

↳ logansargeant: Put that down, I sent you a message.

↳ yourusername: No.

↳ user13: LOL, I love that she's only here for the chaos.

user14: Charles, what's going on between the two of you? This is suspicious.

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 1,754 others

charles_leclerc: Our first kiss captured by the one and only danielricciardo. #tbt

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user15: Soft launch on this average Thursday? Who is she?

user16: HOLY SHIT IS THIS YOURUSERNAME??????

↳ user17: This photo is so dark, how could you possibly tell?

↳ user16: Trust me, I'd recognize her anywhere. (Don't ask how.)

↳ oscarpiastri: I'd like to ask though.

↳ logansargeant: It's definitely concerning.

danielricciardo: You're welcome.

↳ logansargeant: Why are you randomly taking photos of other people making out?

↳ danielricciardo: I have a natural talent to recognize historical moments.

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 1,932 others

yourusername: Someone came home from the party with a fake beard and fell asleep with it still on his face. No kiss for you until you get rid of it.

tagged: charles_leclerc

view all comments

user18: Are you a "soft launch by Charles" son or a "hard launch by Y/N" daughter?

↳ user19: And she hard launched it with this? She's so chaotic, I love her. She could've chosen some sweet photo, but instead she chose this.

user16: I told you all it's her. I knew it!

logansargeant: If you ever want to complain about him, you know where to find me.

↳ oscarpiastri: And me. I'm ready to trash talk my father.

↳ charles_leclerc: Thanks for the vote of confidence.

user20: Not Max liking this. Dude, just follow Charles!

oscarpiastri: Okay, reacting to Charles's photo now that you made this public: Keep it PG!

↳ yourusername: Osc, don't freak out, that's just a kiss.

↳ logansargeant: Yeah, but the rules.

↳ charles_leclerc: That's a photo, it's not happening in front of you.

↳ oscarpiastri: It was on my screen, so now it's burned into my brain.

[cheeseceli]

When you don't use their card

Pairing: Ot8!skz × Gn!Reader (individually)

Genre: fluff, reaction

Request: Wondering if you could do stray kids giving you their card when you go out shopping, but you don’t use it and they see you haven’t and what they do 💗🖤

Warnings: not proofread; nothing more if I'm not mistaken

A/n: this layout is so pretty, admire it with me for a second pls

Bang Chan

Y'know when he goes 🤨? That's him right now. Genuinely doesn't understand why you wouldn't use it. Like, the card was right there... Next to you... And you chose to not use it? If you explain that you just didn't want to use his money because you didn't feel comfortable, he'll explain to you that he doesn't mind in the slightes if you spent it. Actually, he'd be kind of honoured if you did. When he convinces you, he is smiling all adorable and content fr

Lee Know

When he didn't receive any notification from the bank he thought you had actually lost his card lmao. The minute this thought pops in his head he's calling you asking about the whereabouts of his card. When you tell him that you just didn't want to spend his money, he'll manage to convince you to use his card through the phone. He has a proud grin when he receives the first notification from the bank.

Changbin

He'd be kinda sad ngl. When he offered you his card and you took it he was feeling so proud of himself 😭 like "oh I'm such a good boyfriend :D". So when you don't use it he pouts for a second or two. Spend his money and he'll get happy again real quick!!

Hyunjin

Got a little :( tbh. But he doesn't address about it nor have a really dramatic reaction at first. Some days later he will spoil you with a lot of gifts, things he thinks you could've bought with his card. Half of it is just to make you happy and half of it because he wants to make you feel valued through his acts.

Han

Oh he's betrayed. How could take his card like you were going to use it but then you don't?? Stabbing him would've hurt less (he'd be so dramatic lol). Would try to go shopping with you next time just so he can make sure he'll be the one paying

Felix

When he didn't receive any notifications of the bank he thought that you just didn't buy anything. Perhaps nothing satisfied you so you didn't even buy it. But when you come back home with your shopping bags he's so ??? Like "how did you buy those things🤨". Audibly gasps when you tell him you used your own money. Betrayed pt2.

Seungmin

Gives you a glare that makes you freeze when he finds out. Next time you go shopping he offers you his card again, making sure he's glaring at you again like there's a threat in his eyes - "you better use this card this time." When you actually do he switches up completely and gives you the sweetest smile ever lol. It would be kinda cute ngl

I.N

I think that at first he wouldn't have noticed that you didn't buy your things with his money. But then you go shopping again and his bills stay the same... I think he'd catch up at the second or third time. Accuses you of letting him be delusional all this time believing he was the one paying for you😔 jokes aside he'd let you know that it's okay if you don't feel comfortable spending his money, but it's his pleasure to spoil like this and that if you don't mind him paying, you shouldn't hesitate on actually using his card

Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated! | masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Thank you for the help bestie @zzzzzwicked 🫰🏻