#i never know what the fuck is going on tbh

[darlingdaisyfarm]

₊˚ʚ Rain in the woods (Ford Pines x fem!reader) ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

part 3

author note: wow. oh. I can’t believe i finished this :')

this ridiculous, tender unhinged love letter to Ford (and to all of you) has been such a wild ride. tbh i started writing this fic as a half-joke, half-desperate need to get the scenario out of my head and now it’s grown into something so much more intimate than i ever imagined

to everyone who liked, reblogged, who wrote to me such wonderful sweet comments - i read every one and I love you more than Ford loves overthinking. seriously :) your support means everything, and I hope you'll like this final chapter. I’m so grateful for you all <3

ALSO sorry if there are a lot of kisses here….... ummm well I mean, you can't really blame me bc if Ford had let me, I would have just eaten him whole

nsfw, minors DNI

You don’t notice, but his hands are trembling when he reaches for the first aid kit he’d somehow already brought with him. Had he been planning this? Or maybe. . . he just couldn’t stay away, couldn’t bear the thought of you trying to deal with it on your own. 

Ford tries to maintain his usual level of calm composure, but the sight of your exposed thigh makes it so much harder than he anticipated. He feels so conflicted, his thoughts are somewhere between concern, desire and disgusting guilt. He’s a scientist, an explorer, a goddamned professional, not some pathetic old man fantasising about—

“This is going to sting,” Ford warns, trying to not look at your underwear along with your exposed body parts. He can’t be the one to make you uncomfortable now, not when you’re already in pain. “I’ll try to be quick, but it will hurt. I won’t push it, but. . . you need to stay still.”

He avoids meeting your wide, doe-like, scared, no, more like nervous eyes. Those eyes had undone him countless times before, always so trusting, so impossibly soft, curious, full of life. He dies every time when you look at him like that.

“Yes, okay,” you answer, though you’re not sure if it’s for him or for you. He pours the disinfectant into a cotton pad and just as he prepares to press it to your skin, you tense. “Ford, please. . . be gentle, okay?”

“I will, if it’s too much just tell me.” Ford still doesn’t dare meet your eyes, not when he knows his own will betray him. Instead, he focuses on the wound, on the crimson smear of blood that trickles down your skin. But it’s not that damn injury he wants to fix, it’s you, all of you. He wants to be needed by you, to be the one who makes you whole again. 

Ford prepares himself and trying his best, he gently presses the cotton pad to your skin what makes you gasp, oh, sweet mercy, that voice of yours. It’s all he can do to stop himself from leaning in and capturing your lips in tender kiss, getting between your legs and taking you right there. He keeps going, though, his big hands too careful, like you’re made of porcelain. He doesn’t want to hurt you, never, but he just wishes he could be inside you right now, show you how much he’s desperate for you.

“Ahh! Ford, h-hurts!” your fingers are gripping his wrist so tight, nails digging in, and fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking this. You are hurt, in pain, for god’s sake, but all he can see is you beneath him, making those same sounds for an entirely different reason as he makes love to you.

“Shh, I know, I know it does. I know, but you have to let me do this. If I don’t, the wound could get infected. Tetanus, sepsis are not things to take lightly.”

Goddamn, why he’s so close to places he shouldn’t even be thinking about. You’re laying there so beautiful, helpless, voice pleading with him to stop, it’s driving Ford crazy. His cock twitches in his pants and he hates himself for it, hates how his mind creates an image of you crying out his name like that, begging him to keep going instead of to stop. 

He feels the throb in his chest, but in his groin too.

“N-no more, fuck, ugh!” obviously it’s a plea for mercy, but to his traitorous brain, it sounds like—

Ford frowns, looking way too serious than usual as he tries to make his dirty thoughts go away, tries to focus on the wound and not the way your skin feels, but goddamn why are you so soft and warm and why he’s so damn close to you. And then his gaze betrays him, lowering down to the curve of your inner thigh, so close to where the hem of your panties teases him mercilessly.

“That’s enough, please!” you begin, biting down on your lip as the pain grows.

“Don’t move too much, it’ll hurt more,” Ford’s tone sounds rougher than he meant to. “I’m almost done.” 

She’s in pain, you disgusting old idiot. She’s fucking suffering and you’re—

“Please, stop!” 

Ford freezes, stiffening. That’s enough, you’d said, but it’s not, it’s fucking not. It’s never enough. Not your skin, not your voice, not the way you cling to him, not the way you beg, not the way you look at him.

The cotton pad is soaked now in your blood too, pressing too hard against your skin before Ford even realises it. You wince, gasping again and Ford can't help it anymore. His eyes drop to your panties, how they hug your body and his cock twitches in his pants.

He’s a grown man. He should be able to handle this. But all he can see is you, laid out before him like this, looking at him with those needy eyes, begging him to take you, to fuck you.

“Just sit sti��” before he finishes his sentence, he unintentionally presses the cotton harder into your wound, too lost in his own fantasies and the sharp burst of pain makes you hiss so you move involuntarily, your leg jerking straight into his crotch and—

You feel it.

Your foot accidentally brushes against something unmistakably hard. You didn’t mean to move that way, absolutely. But the second your limb drags against him, you feel it. The hardness beneath his pants. His body reacting to you. To this.

And neither of you move.

Ford is first to speak.

“I— I’m sorry,” he blurts. “It’s a natural physiological response. Adrenaline, heightened states of focus, they can trigger. . . well, unintended reactions. Nothing to do with— nothing to do with you.”

The sharp pain in your thigh momentarily forgotten. “Physiological response?” you repeat. “Ford, are you seriously trying to explain away your. . . uh, situation with biology?”

“It’s not what you think. It’s involuntary. Biological. A man’s body doesn’t always obey his mind. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He sounds so awkward, so flustered and you don’t know what to think. He’s not usually like this. . . well, not around you. Around you, he’s always so collected, always the smart, serious, intellectual Stanford Pines who wouldn’t bat an eye at anything that didn’t involve research.

You try to click pieces together, processing. He feels something for you. That’s the only explanation. He wouldn’t be this flustered, this desperate to excuse himself, if he didn’t.

And now you know. Ford’s just as human as the rest of us. And he wants you, too.

You move again, brushing your leg against him again and Ford wants to die because he makes the loudest surprised gasp in the room. “Doesn’t mean anything, huh?” you ask innocently. “so if I just move like this—” you press just a little firmer, feeling him growing harder. “it’s still just biology. Nothing to do with me at all?”

He’s silent.

“Ford, Is that. . . is that really how you feel?”

He sighs and darts his hand out to grip your leg to stop your teasing. “Don’t,” he warns, saying your name. His eyes meet yours for the first time all evening. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

His eyes stay locked on yours. You’re silent now too.

“Don’t— don’t look at me like that. You don’t understand. I. . . shouldn’t have let it go this far.”

But you do understand, more than he could ever realise.

“But why?” your foot slides all over his hard clothed length and Ford’s body responds with his needy cock twitching at your touch.

“This isn’t funny,” he bites out. “this isn’t a game. I’m not a young man, im not— I’m not what you need.”

“You don’t get to decide what I need, Ford.”

“But you’re too young—”

“Stop treating me like I’m some kid who doesn’t know what she wants. I’m an adult, Ford, an adult!”

“An adult?” he repeats, while your foot is still rubbing over his very obvious bulge. “an adult who can't even get dressed normally for the weather?”

You grin, leaning closer to his face. “uh-huh. And here you are, all worked up over me, right?” you press on his cock harder and Ford nearly finishes in his pants. 

He grabs your ankle, even though he doesn’t push you away.

“This. . . now this is inappropriate.”

You rolls your foot over his bulge what makes hips buck just slightly. You bite your lip, grinning at how badly he’s losing control.

“You’re a fucking hypocrite, you know that?” you lean closer and murmur into his mouth. “you’re so worried about what I can handle, but look at you. You’re the one who’s hard as rock right now, who can’t control himself.”

“Enough, I’m serious, stop.”

“Make me.”

That’s all it takes. It’s your smirk that gets him, your teasing voice, your dirty remarks, even as you’re sprawled out on the bed with that horrible wound on your thigh.

Ford is on you in a second. His mouth crashes against yours and you don’t even realise what’s happening yet. His kiss is messy and needy, like he’s trying to consume you whole. And you give yourself to him completely, your body melting into his. Every surprised gasp of yours is swallowed by him, his big hands gripping your face as he deepens the kiss. It’s so messy, the way Ford literally fucks your mouth with his tongue.

And you can’t help but tug at his clothes, dragging him closer until he’s on top of you. Ford’s weight presses into you and your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling at it as your body presses against his, your heart pounding so hard you swear he can hear it too. Ford is barely restraining himself from ripping off the rest of your clothes, that oversized T-shirt and panties, and fucking you right here, making all his fantasies come true, which he wrote down in his journal.

His mouth devours yours like he’s starved for you, his hands yanking you closer like he’s holding on for dear life. You let him claim you, let his kiss swallow every thought in your head until there’s nothing left but him, just him, him, him, him. You’re drunk on the way he feels. His hands are everywhere, pulling and tugging at you like he’s losing control. And oh god, you feel it.

You can’t get enough of it. You want more.

Ford is too lost so he lets six-fingered hand slip lower, brushing the side of your thigh and then it lands right where it shouldn’t.

Your fresh wound.

You gasp in pain, breaking the kiss.

“Damn,” Ford instantly pulls away, and his hand is next to your wound, concern and fear are visible on his face. “i’m sorry, i didn’t—”

“Fuck it,” you interrupt, pulling him closer. “worry about that later. I need you now. Please, Ford, just kiss me again.”

But looks like Ford is interested in your wound more than in kiss now.

He’s already inspecting the bandage, ignoring your begging, his brows furrowed with guilt. “i wasn’t thinking, im sorry, does it hurt? did i—”

Why men are so stupid, you think and grab his chin, forcing him to look at you, but he talks first.

“Let me—” he clears his throat, blinking before continuing. “no, let me bandage your leg. We need to, uh, stop the bleeding.”

“Ford,” you groan. “It’s fine. It’s not even that bad now.”

“Not that bad?” he looks you with a glare that’s somehow equal parts concern and anger. “that’s not how infections work, young lady. You could lose a limb if this festers.”

You groan in frustration, rolling your eyes, but he’s already kneeling in front of you. “This is really what you’re worried about right now?” you drawl, raising your brow.

“Yes, this is what I’m worried about.”

And here he is again, between your legs, his hands are still careful as they work, bandaging your inner thigh. Ford is trying so hard not to look at the very place he’s so devastatingly close to. He pulls the knot of the bandage just too tight what makes you let out the softest, unintentional moan.

“You— you cannot make noises like that right now. Stop making this harder than it already is.”

The corners of your lips curl and you lean back on your palms, unbothered. “Says the man who’s between my legs right now.”

“You got a point,” Ford lifts his brows as he clicks his tongue, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “clever girl.”

When he finally finishes tying off the bandage, he proudly looks at the work he done and pulls away, wait, pulls away? However, you don’t let him get far. Your hands drag him back down with a force that surprises him and maybe yourself.

The kiss you pull him into is anything but delicate. It’s urgent and hungry. Ford groans against you as if you’ve stolen the last bit of air he had left. Your fingers fist the fabric at his shoulders and when he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeps over your bottom lip. 

“Been waiting for this,” you confess between gasps. “Ford, I need you.” 

His forehead presses against yours. “You think I don’t? I’ve needed you. God, you have no idea. You drive me insane.”  

“Need you,” you breathe, arching up into him. “Ford, please. . . need you so bad.” he swallows your words with another passionate kiss, this one deeper, slower. His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling a whimper from you that goes straight to his cock.

His lips trail lower, pressing kisses along the curve of your jaw, the slope of your neck. His teeth graze against your skin making you shiver because you feel like on damn fire, so sensitive for him.

“Ford, ah,” you breathe, tilting your head to give him more room as his kisses grow bolder, hungrier. He’s so desperate he can’t seem to stop himself, mouthing at your collarbone, your throat, anywhere he can reach while he mutters how beautiful you are.

Your hand trembles as it finds his, wrapping around his wrist and guiding him down. “Ford, please, touch me there,” you whimper against his lips now, spreading your thighs apart to make space. “need you. . . need your fingers, your hand, please.”

Ford hesitates at first, as if he doesn't fully believe what he sees in front of him, the object of his fantasies, his clever girl, which he wrote about in his journal, right beneath him, begging for his touch, for his love. It seems like his genius brain cannot comprehend what is happening yet.

Finally his hand moves, two fingers, one extra, rubbing you through the fabric of your panties and the sound that leaves your mouth sounds like a desperate needy sob. His forehead drops against yours as his fingers press against the dampness pooling there.

“You’re so wet,” Ford drags his thumb slowly over your clit. “is this all for me?”

“Yes, yes, all for you,” you gasp, writhing under his touch, bucking your hips up into his hand. “only you, Ford— fuck, just keep touching me, please, need more— need you. . .”

“I know,” he mutters, kissing you hard enough to steal the words from your tongue. “i know, sweetheart, i know.”

Ford’s fingers tugs your panties to the side and you both groan when he finally touches you bare. You squirm, swaying your hips to grind against his hand and he curses again, moving his lips to your neck, kissing and nipping as if he can’t stand being apart from you for even a second.

“Y-you’re driving me insane,” he breathes. “been dreaming about this, you have no idea, been wanting you for so long.”  

“Good,” you manage a weak smile, whimpering when he circles your clit with his thumb. You curl your nails into his shoulders. “then fucking do something about it.”

Stanford groans at your words, his cock twitches, begging to be taken care of, but his pleasure doesn’t matter now. You’re so hungry for his touch and Ford needs to touch you badly, so he slips his fingers through your folds, caressing you while still rubbing your clit in torturous circles. “like this? does this, does this feel good?”  

“Yes, yes, oh my god! more, more, give me more,” you cry when he sinks one finger into you, curling it just right.

“God, I wanna—” but he cuts himself off when his eyes notices that damn bandage on your leg.

“What?” you question and press a light kiss to his cheek, your eyes searching his face. “what do you want?” 

“You,” he admits. “I want to be inside you, want to feel you around me, want to, b-but you’re hurt, and I— fuck, I can’t, I can’t risk it.” 

You whine, your head falling back as his fingers keep moving, sliding in and out of your pussy, brushing against that spot that makes you see stars. “don’t care,” your thighs clenching around his hand. “i don’t care, just need you, need your cock— fuck, please!”

“Please, don’t say that, don’t say that when I can’t give it to you.”  

“Ford, please, I need it! I’ll be fine, I swear—”  

“No, you’re hurt, this is all i can give you right now. . . but i swear, I swear i’ll make it up to you, honey, when you’re better, when you’re not hurt, i’ll—” his fingers thrust deeper into your wetness with his thumb circling your clit in time and you interrupt him with loud cry.

“Ford! please, just don’t stop, please don’t stop—”

Ford nods and watches you. Letting his fingers curl inside you, penetrating deeper into your pussy. His movements growing more confident as your body reacts to him, your beautiful moans spurring him on. His lips find yours again and you both get lost in the kiss, in the way your breaths mix, in the way your bodies press together like you’re trying to fuse into one.

Your moan breaks into a cry as you arch your back, eyes closed tight when Ford’s fingers pumping into you faster, your spongy walls tightening around his digits. Oh fucking heaven, that extra finger feels too good. “Ford, please! oh, god— fuck, you’re gonna make me—”  

“That’s it,” Ford’s lips trail up to your ear, kissing and biting it as he presses his thumb on your sensitive bundle. “let me take care of you, sweetheart, cum for me.”  

His tone and praise is what sends you on edge as you clench around his fingers, moaning his name and cumming while his fingers, slower, but still thrusting into you. You feel so weak and tired, but your Ford is right there to catch you, whispering soft praises into your hair as you shake in his arms.

Ford’s fingers still buried deep inside you as he watches you come down from your high. And it’s so obvious that he putted your needs before his own because his cock, hard as a rock now, strains against the fabric of his pants, creating the most painful bulge you ever seen. He shifts awkwardly, hoping maybe you won’t notice but you do. Oh, you do.

“Ford,” your voice sounds honeyed as you regain your strength. Your gaze drops pointedly to the tent in his pants. “you’re. . . so hard.”

His face flushes and he tries to pull away, to create some distance between you, but you grab his wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t,” you whisper softly. “don’t hide from me. you’ve been so good to me, let me. . . let me do something for you.”

“No,” he says quickly. “you’re hurt. I can’t, you need to rest.”

“Just look at you, you’re aching. You don’t have to do anything to me, just let me help.”

“Oh my god,” he says your name as if ready to scold you. “you’re impossible, you know,” but his shaky hands move to his belt anyway, unsure, like he’s warring with himself even as he undoes it.

“Yeah?” you lean back. “you’re about to jerk off in front of me, Ford, what does that make you?”

Ford cant find any smart or logical response to that because you’re absolutely right, he’s the mess here, the impossible one, the desperate old man. He takes a breath, finally pulling his cock free and fuck, he’s so hard as if he’s going to explode, the head flushed and leaking.

Ford’s cock is already in his hand, the first strokes making him whimper under his breath. His other hand rests on your thigh, fingers nervously flex like he’s desperate to touch more of you, to hold you, to worship you properly like his clever girl deserves, but he’s so lost in this intimate moment, in you, that he can barely think straight.

You’re watching him, trying to control yourself because if you won’t, you might just jump on him and you can't vouch for yourself. 

You’re sprawled out in front of him like a dream come to life: t-shirt rucked up, legs spread, panties pushed to the side, leaving your pretty glistening pussy on full display for his starved gaze. Fuck, you look so hot like that, from everything he’s already done to you. He’s trying not to stare and you think he’s so silly when it’s specially show made only for him, so you shift your hips just enough to catch his attention, drawing his eyes like a magnet.

“Touch yourself for me. Show me how much you want me.” your eyes locked on him, drinking in the sight of his hand moving over his length.

Ford’s chest heaves, his hand grips his cock, which is twitching and flushed an angry red at the tip. But looks like poor old man can’t even jerk himself off properly, so you reach your hand out to brush against his wrist.

“Here,” you purr, guiding his hand with your smaller one, wrapping your fingers around his, forcing him to stroke himself teasingly. At that, Ford’s hips jerk up into your shared grip, and you hum approvingly, watching as his lips part in a groan. “yes, like this, honey. Let me help you.” 

“S-sweetheart. . . you don’t— ah— you don’t have to—”

“But I want to,” you lean back against the bed, shifting your hips, making sure he has the perfect view of your soaked, glistening slit. “Don’t hold back, i want you to feel good.”

Ford lets himself get a bit more vocal as he groans, his hips buck into your joined hands and his cock twitches against your palm. He’s so fucking hard, leaking against your skin, and the sounds he makes as he strokes himself are too good to be true, yet here he is, in front of you, jerking himself off, moaning your name. 

“You. . . o-oh god, sweetheart, you’re incredible,” he whines as you guide his hand again, showing him exactly how to squeeze, how to work himself the way you know he needs it. Meanwhile his other hand braces against the mattress near your head, his knuckles white as he struggles to keep himself together.  

“You’re so big, Ford,” your eyes glued to his dick, watching every move with hungry fascination. “you’re so handsome, so beautiful. I could look at you all night.”

He groans at your praise, more pathetic this time, his forehead dropping forward as he stares at where your bodies almost meet. “Christ, you’re gonna ruin me, love.” that’s when his strokes falter for and you take over completely, your warm hand wrapping around his length and pumping him up and down.

“Keep going,” you urge, feeling yourself getting wetter too. “i can’t stop thinking about how good you’d feel inside me. id take all of you, id make you feel so good, Ford. I need you, all of you.” soft whisper into his lips while all Ford can do is fuck your hand pathetically, your thumb sweeping over his tip, smearing the slick there.

Ford digs his fingers into your thigh, trembling. “Don’t— oh god, don’t say that,” he gasps. His eyes are locked on your opening, on the way your arousal glistens, your folds so wet and swollen and inviting.

“Don’t you want to touch me? Don’t you want to feel how wet i am for you?”

“God, I do,” he breathes as his hand joins again, moving together with yours, faster, jerking himself off faster. “I want you so much it hurts. I’d do anything. . . anything for you.”

“Then come for me,” you whisper, reaching out to thread your fingers into his hair when you kiss the corners of his parted trembling lips.

“I can’t— oh god, sweetheart, I can’t hold on much longer.” thick ropes of his cum spills across your thighs and even stomach, marking your skin as he makes a mess of himself. His hot seed drips down over your hand where you keep stroking and caressing him, milking every last drop forcing whines and mewls from him.

He collapses forward after and buries his face against your shoulder. 

“I need you so badly,” he murmurs into your skin. “you don’t know how much I want you. You don’t know what you do to me.”

You hum softly, threading your fingers through his damp hair as you press a tender kiss on his forehead.

***

It’s morning and sweet scent of batter and syrup fills the air. The noise and conversations are coming from the kitchen and there’s only one explanation for the chaos: Stanley is cooking “stancakes.”  

You’re by his side, propped against the counter, balancing on your good leg, watching Stan cook. Spatula in one hand, the other parked on his hip and he radiates confidence, as if he is ready to host his own cooking show.

“Now listen up, kid,” he says in a voice full of pride. “these are world-famous stancakes. they’ve been called ‘edible’ by at least two people, well, three, if you don’t count the pig.”  

“Oh.”  

“Oh” he repeats, incredulous, spinning to face you with mock offense. “don’t tell me you’ve never had stancakes before?!”  

You grin, shaking your head. “not once. I think Ford’s been keeping them all to himself.”  

Stan looks like you’ve just offended him.  

“That’s practically a felony in this house! what, Ford never mentioned ‘em? selfish bastard.”  

You laugh softly.

“but i gotta ask,” Stan continues. “any allergies to elbow grease? or, uh, whatever was at the bottom of the flour jar. pretty sure it was flour. maybe. . .” he winks and you roll your eyes, however the conversation continues good and friendly between you. 

Your hand rests on the counter for balance and you look down, at the faint tug of the bandage around your leg, which works as reminder of the night before. Memories of Ford’s hands, his mouth, the way he moaned your name, how he touched you, heat your cheeks until you force yourself to focus on Stan.  

His spatula waves in your direction again. “so, what’s the story with yer leg? take a tumble down the stairs, or was it somethin’ spooky out there in the woods?”  

You give him a wide smile. “let’s just say it’s a story. remind me to tell you later.”

Stan raises a brow curiously, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he turns back to his stancakes with a grunt. “hmph, fair enough. just glad you didn’t end up worse. Y’know, if ya ever need lessons on landing on yer feet—”  

Before he can finish, his brother steps into the room and you immediately turn your gaze to him. Honestly, he looks like he’s spent the entire night replaying everything. 

“Ah, there you are,” Ford murmurs when his gaze finds you, then he clears his throat and nods to his twin. “good morning, Stanley.”  

Stan doesn’t miss a beat, gesturing with his spatula. “yeah, mornin’, sixer. Yer just in time for the best damn pancakes this side of the multiverse.”  

At that, Ford’s lips curve into a polite smile as he glances at his brother. “that’s good to hear.” then his focus changes, locking entirely on you. His intonation changes into something warmer as he speaks your name. “would you mind if i borrowed you for a moment? just for a quick talk.”  

You nod a little too eagerly. “sure, of course.”  

Stanley lets out a dramatic sigh, waving his spatula at Ford. “don’t keep her too long, poindexter. She’s gotta try these pancakes before they go cold!” 

Ford leads you to his study and you follow, heart thundering in your chest. You’re grinning like an idiot, barely containing your excitement. He’s finally going to say something, but you’re so fucking ready to hear, to discuss, to scream the loudest “YES” when he’ll ask you to be his girlfriend.

When the door clicks shut behind you, he turns and you finally see his face. He’s always so serious, just like right now. But what did you wait? It’s Ford Pines, it’s his normal state. However, you’re so excited you sure he can see the way you’re literally glowing.

You really try to act casual, but inside, you’re absolutely going insane, nervous, happy, excited at the same time. Last night still feels like a fever dream, you can feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the heat of his body against yours, the way his fingers slid so perfectly into you. . . 

And now he’s here, just the two of you, and you’re hoping he’ll finally acknowledge the thing that happened between you.

But then he opens his mouth.

“So, about the anomaly. . .” he begins and the words hit you like a slap.  

No, no. No no no. Are you hearing this right?That’s what he’s leading with?! After everything that happened last night, he’s just. . . no, he’s talking about the damn anomaly like he didn’t just leave you trembling with the memory of his fingers inside you. 

Your smile falters fucking immediately, your shoulders stiffening as he goes on, completely oblivious to the storm of disappointment brewing inside you.  

“I’ve been reviewing the notes I took last week. If my calculations are correct, the creature’s molecular structure—”

What the actual fuck.

Your jaw clenches. You stare at him, thinking it’s some kind of joke. He’s talking about science. Fucking science. After everything that happened, this is what he wants to talk about? He’s here, rambling about molecules and rain like none of it ever happened.  

You can’t stand it. The frustration takes over you.

“Ford,” you hiss as you shove him back against the wall.

His eyes widen in surprise, but you don’t let him speak. You press your palms flat against his chest, pinning him there, your voice shaking with anger. All you can think about is how he’s standing there like some fucking genius, talking about molecules and data when last night, you’d literally devoured each other.  

“Are you kidding me? This is what you wanted to talk about? You’re seriously standing here, talking about anomalies and notes like last night didn’t fucking happen?”

For a second, he just looks at you, his face calm and that makes you practically vibrate with rage, the intensity of your emotions making your head spin.  

And then. . . he smirks.  

The bastard smirks.

“I wasn’t aware we had plans to debrief, sweetheart,” your fingers tighten against his chest and he raises a brow, clearly amused by your reaction. “Though I must admit, you’re surprisingly strong for someone with an injured leg. Should I be worried?”

Your face burns as you glare up at him. “Ford, don’t you dare—”

“Well?” his gaze piercing through you. “What is it you want me to say, sweetheart?”

His fucking teasing is driving you crazy.  

“Are you seriously just gonna pretend like it didn’t happen? That you didn’t— god, Ford—"

“Pretend? Oh, but don’t get ahead of yourself.

I think you’ve got a lot more to say about what happened than you’re letting on, huh?”

Your cheeks burn hotter than they ever have before. You didn’t expect that. You really didn’t.

“Are you seriously gonna tease me about last night? You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, but you’re so worked up now that you don’t even care. You push yourself closer, getting right up in his space, your chest touching his, and now you’re just fuming.

“I’m the one who teases you? Interesting. . .” he leans to your face, brushing his lips against your ear. “What else did I do to you that made you so worked up last night? I didn’t think I was that good with my hands.”

“You bastard.” you hiss as you pin him against the wall harder.

He tilts his head at your words. “Careful, love, I wouldn’t want you to strain that leg of yours again. Especially not after I spent so much time taking care of you last night.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The nerve of this man! You want to slap him, to push him away, but instead, you pull him closer

“You better watch yourself, Ford.” You give him a dangerous smile. “You think you can just pay with me like this? You’re not as clever as you think.”

Ford’s smirk widens. “Oh? You think you’ve got the upper hand? I’ve got you pinned right where I want you, sweetheart.”

And then his hand trails down your arm to your waist. 

“And if you’re still mad, I can think of a few ways to work out that frustration.”

Your body goes cold and hot all at once, and it takes everything in you not to melt into him. 

Ford is still against the wall where you pushed him, calm as ever, obviously enjoying every second of this, he thinks he’s the one in control.  

Your pulse hammers in your ears, your hands trembling against the chest of his sweater. He’s so warm, and god, you hate that even now, even while you’re mad at him, you can’t stop remembering the way he looked last night. The way he sounded when he let himself fall apart under your touch. 

“You’re insufferable. Worse than Stan.”

“Am I? Because from where I’m standing, you’re the one pinning me to a wall. Quite forcefully, might I add. It’s a little ironic, don’t you think? Considering how you were. . . what’s the term? Begging for me last night?”

Your jaw drops.  

“Begging? You think I was begging for you?”

Ford looks entirely too pleased with himself. “Well, I seem to recall a certain. . . eagerness on your part. Particularly when—”

“You don’t get to talk about my eagerness.” you cut him off, your cheeks flaming. “Not when you were the one moaning my name like your life depended on it.”

That shuts him up.

His smirk falters slightly, and you see the faintest hint of red creeping up his neck. Oh. Oh. Fucking finally. You’ve got him now.  

“That’s right. Stanford Pines, world-renowned genius, reduced to a trembling mess because I—” and to kill him for sure, you lean in to whisper into his lips. “jerked you off.”

Ford goes completely still.  

There’s nothing but silence. His genius mind working, his lips parting slightly like he wants to say something, but no words come out. His face is a mess of conflicting emotions, embarrassment, frustration and something you can’t quite place but looks suspiciously like agreement.

“Got nothing to say now, huh?” you tease, grinning like an absolute maniac. “What happened to all that confidence, Professor?”

“Well played.”

***

Life at the mystery shack doesn’t feel much different, not outwardly. Stan still grumbles about the bills, the tourists still gawk at the exhibits, and Ford. . . Ford is still Ford, except now he’s yours.  

Yours.  

The nights are quieter between you both, more intimate, full of moans and groans, petting and foreplay. Like last night, when his clever hands had slipped beneath the waistband of your pajama pants, his soft and needy voice told you he wanted to make you feel good.  

God, he did. You’d come on his fingers so good, trembling as he whispered your name and called you his good girl, while kissing your cheeks, wiping your tears of pleasure away. And he’d let you touch him too while your hand worked up and down on his pulsing cock and then he spilled against your skin, while you silenced him with a kiss.

No, it actually feels good, really. It’s better than nothing, than not touching him at all, but. . . you crave, you need something else. Something that is not just his fingers, mouth, or hands.

Ford is so careful, so cautious about your stupid leg, his gentle excuses about your injury making you want to scream into a pillow. Like, yeah, it still hurts sometimes, but you can walk, run, pin him against a wall, fuck him six ways to sunday if he’d just let you.  

Ford has his own fears, even if he won’t admit them outright.

But you’re not afraid. 

The woods, your anomaly huntings, are different now too. More dangerous, you’d say. 

You’re pressed against a tree as Ford’s mouth claims yours. His hands are everywhere, gripping your waist, sliding up under your clothes, pulling you closer, closer, like he can’t get enough.  

“Ford, aah, please,” you whimper, pulling him down to kiss you deeper. His knee nudges between your thighs, pressing against you and you swear you’re about to melt into a puddle right there in the dirt.  

“Quiet, sweetheart, don’t want the whole forest knowing how desperate you are for me.”  

But it’s him. . . it’s fucking him who’s desperate, dropping to his knees to pull your pants down just enough, fingers slipping into your panties to find you already soaking.  

“So wet already, holy multiverse,” and then his fingers are inside your pussy as he presses kisses to your thighs and stomach.

But you need to touch him too. Your hands are on him again, tugging at his belt, fumbling with the button of his pants. His cock is hard when you pull him free and you stroke him until he’s shaking, gasping against your neck.  

“My love, i’m gonna—” his hips jerks into your hand as he cums, splashing his hot and thick seed all over your fingers. But he doesn’t stop,  his own six fingered hand working you until you finish with a strangled cry, pussy clenching around him as you nearly fall, when he catches you, whispering how beautiful you are.

You both collapse against each other, sticky and hot, despite coldness of autumn, grinning like idiots. And then Ford leans in to kiss you again, like he’s already planning the next round.  

At dinner, it’s you who starts it.  

Your leg brushes his teasingly under the table that has him choking on his water. Stanley doesn’t notice, too busy ranting about some tourist who tried to haggle over a snow globe, but Ford shoots you a warning look.

You just smile sweetly while also agreeing with Stan about his tourist speech as you press your foot higher until you’re brushing against the hard line of his length beneath the table.  

The lab is worse.

He’s sitting at his desk, scribbling in his journal with you perched on his lap, your arms around his shoulders, your hips rocking against his as you kiss the side of his neck.  

“You’re distracting me,” says fucking Ford with his hands on your hips, guiding your movements as his already hard cock strains against his pants.  

“Good,” you kiss his cheek, grinding down harder, feeling him twitching beneath you.

But every time you try to push it further, every time you reach for him, ask for more, he stops you.  

“Your leg,” but it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.  

“But i’m fine—”  

“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “i’m not risking it, not yet.”  

***

The November crisp air bites at your skin. The faint smoky warmth of the fire crackling in the yard. Well. . . It was Stanley's idea to do this, he said something about rekindling childhood memories, family bonding and roasting marshmallows like it was summer camp, but he's not here. Something about a "quick run to the diner for pie" turned into him being away for whole evening, leaving you and Ford alone under a shining starry sky.

“You know, for a guy with six fingers, you’re surprisingly bad at this,” you tease, leaning back on your hands as you watch Stanford squint at the marshmallow impaled on his skewer. It's already starting to charred, the edges curling into blackened flakes as the fire devours it. “do they not teach you how to roast marshmallows in the multiverse, professor?”

Ford chuckles softly at your words. “Oh, excuse me, but i’ll have you know i’ve mastered much more complex techniques than this primitive. . .” the marshmallow slides clean off the stick and lands with a soft plop into the embers. Ford stares at it, annoyed. “cooking method.”

You can’t help how cute he looks so you laugh. “You’re hopeless,” you brush your shoulder against his, smiling. “here, let me show you.” Ford nods, handing you the stick. “first rule,” you skewer a new marshmallow. “don’t hold it so close to the flame. you want it golden, not a cremation. You’ve gotta keep it turning. Patiently, like this.” you rotate the stick slowly and Ford actually watches, his gaze is not on the fire, but on you. 

“i see,” he says thoughtfully. “golden, not charred.”

“Exactly,” you let marshmallow toast evenly. “you just have to—” you glance up to check on him and Ford’s still watching you. It steals the breath from your lungs and you gulp awkwardly. “. . . focus,” you finish a little quieter. “why you’re looking at me like that?” you smile.

Ford laughs. “maybe in some universe, you do dress appropriately for the weather?” 

You blink at him, thrown off for a second, before realising. Oh. . . oh, right. Your teeth chatter slightly, fingers cold and you’re shaking slightly, it’s so obvious. “i guess no?”

Ford doesn’t even dignify that with a response. Instead, he’s already shrugging out of his coat and draping it over your shoulders before you can protest, but it’s not like you wanted to anyways. His trench coat is heavy and smells just like him and your smile couldn't get any wider.

“Thanks, again. . . heh,” you try to sound nonchalant, but the coat is still warm from him and you clutch it around you tighter.

“So, you were saying?” Stanford prompts, tilting his head toward the marshmallow in your hand.

You clear your throat. “Right, uh, where was i? oh, yeah. so, you’ll know it’s ready when it’s this perfect golden brown all over, not a single—”  

“Give me a kiss,” Ford says suddenly, interrupting you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You’re not sure who leans in first. You, probably, but he meets you halfway. Ford’s lips are warm, so soft against yours. Your heart stutters in your chest as blood rushes in your ears, one of his hands comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing feather-light against your cheek. Your hands find his chest, fingertips pressing into his sweater as you you sigh into him.

The kiss deepens, not hurried, but like you’ve both waited far too long for this moment. Ford leans into your touch like he’s been craving it just as much as you. 

When you finally pull back, he rests his forehead against yours and none of you speak, both quiet and only fire is crackling softly beside you.  

“I think i might be terrible at marshmallows.” Ford smiles shyly.

You blink at him, you lips still tingling from the kiss, your head feeling too light to even process his words at first. Oh god the whole moment so tender, so beautiful, so intimate it almost makes you want to cry. 

“Ford,” and he hums softly in response.

“Hmm?”

“Give me another.”

Ford doesn’t need to be told twice.  

This time, it’s you who closes the distance, but his lips crash into yours like he’s been waiting, holding himself back and now he simply can’t. His hand slides to the back of your neck as the kiss deepens, hotter, hungrier. You sigh into his mouth, your knees going weak beneath you, but Ford steadies you, holds you.

His coat slips off one of your shoulders as your arms wind around his neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer until there’s no space left, and even then, it doesn’t feel close enough.  

“Ford—” you manage to groan against his lips and he pulls back just slightly.

“What is it?” the way he’s looking at you, fuck, like he’s already undressing you in his mind, makes you feel dizzy.  

You pause, staring at him, at the mess of his hair, the faint flush dusting his cheeks, the way his lips are already red from kissing you. This man. This ridiculous, brilliant, beautiful man.  

“My leg,” you feel nervous out of sudden, afraid he might reject you again. “it’s— it’s healed now, you know. . . i can— i can handle more.”  

Ford freezes, thinking. And then. . . Oh.

He kisses you again, but this time it’s different, this time, there’s no holding back, no careful hesitation.

"Inside," your voice is trembling with anticipation. "please, Ford, let’s go inside."  

And god help you both, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to say no. 

***

Ford’s whole body is pressing you into the mattress as though he’s trying to meld you both into one. His hands grip the sheets beside your head and he’s so warm against you. He kisses you messily and desperately, too eager.

“Ford, please,” you whimper, lifting your hips and grinding up against his hard, pulsing length.

“Yes, Ive got you, I’ve got you,” his own voice trembling as one hand dives down, gripping your hip, trying to keep you still but failing miserably because he can’t stop himself from rutting into you. “im right here, my love, i’m gonna take care of you.” the bed creaks beneath the weight of both of you, but neither of you can hear it over the needy moans you two share.

You can’t stop the high pitched whine that escapes you as his knee slots between your thighs, pressing against you just right and you swear you’re losing your fucking mind. “Nngh, Ford, Ford, please,” your voice so fucking needy it feels embarrassing. 

Ford stops, just for a second, pulling back to take a good look at you. His eyes are blown wide, pupils black as they devour every little expression you make. “tell me, tell me what you need.”  

You nearly cry. “touch me,” you plead.

“Oh sweetheart, my good girl,” his trembling fingers brush the hem of your clothes, slipping underneath to glide against your skin, being so careful like you’re too delicate, too fragile for him, he’s afraid you’ll shatter if he’s not gentle. “i’m not going anywhere,” he promises, dragging his lips down your jaw, going lower to the sensitive skin of your neck. “i love you so much.” and before you can even think to respond, his mouth is on yours again, swallowing your moans because he’s desperate to consume every single piece of you. 

Oh, sweet fucking hell, you think when Ford lowers himself between your thighs looking like a man on his knees at an altar and you’re the goddess he’s about to worship. He spreads your legs wide, his six-fingered hands curling into the plush of your thighs and he just stares for a moment like he’s seeing heaven itself. His lips part, and his tongue darts out to wet them, the hunger in his gaze as if he can’t believe this is real.  

"My love," he groans. "so pretty, you’re so pretty. . . this is all mine, isn’t it? tell me, sweetheart, say it, say it’s all for me."  

“It’s yours, Ford,” you melt under his gaze, feeling so exposed and he hums in approval. 

“Good girl,” and then he dips his head down, brushing his lips against your inner thigh, kissing your healed wound. 

You grow impatient with every second, and fucking finally, he’s right here, his face hovering over your throbbing pussy which needs his attention so bad, and he takes a deep breath. 

Ford presses a kiss just above where you’re all wet and your hips jolt, seeking more.

“F-Ford! fuuck. . . fuck fuck fuck!” 

“Shh, just like that, i’ll take care of you,” he presses one hand firmly on your pelvis to keep you still. “just relax, darling, let me have you.”

You’re too far gone to even respond coherently, only letting out pathetic whimper as he drags his lips lower and lower until his warm mouth hovers right over your soaked folds.

His tongue presses flat against your pussy, slowly and oh fuck, you taste so damn sweet, Ford growls and that vibrates straight through you. “oh, god," he pants, pulling back before diving in again, "you taste. . . you taste so good, so sweet, like you were made for me." Ford’s voice muffled against you as his tongue flattens, dragging through your slick, tasting you. 

His hands grip your thighs tighter to hold your squirming body in place as he tilts his head to get a better angle. His lips seal around your puffy clit, sucking gently at first, then harder when your hips jerk up into his face. He holds you open because he’s not letting you go anywhere, his tongue flicks over that sensitive bundle of nerves until you’re sobbing his name.  

“Ford. . . oh god! Ford, too much—!” 

You’re trembling and panting as his tongue circles your little clit in soft lazy strokes that have your back arching off the mattress. You fist your fingers into the sheets as his lips seal around your sensitive clit, sucking gently before releasing you with a soft, wet pop.

“Taste so good,” Ford says more than all to himself. He licks into you now, dragging his wet tongue through your soft folds, lapping up everything you’re giving him like a man possessed. “g-give me more, darling, please. . . i need more of you.”

“Ford, Ford! Ford, i—” you buck your hips against his face as the wet sounds of his mouth on you fill the room.

“Mmhm, that’s it, sweetheart,” his voice muffled against your cunt as his lips brushes your clit, letting his fingers slide lower to tease your dripping entrance. “just let me make you feel good.”

Ford pulls back just enough to gasp for air, his lips and chin shiny with your slick and you swear he looks drunk, eyes glassy and pupils blown wide. “you taste so good,” he groans, diving back in immediately, never having enough, moving his mouth against you like he’s kissing you there, sloppily, noisily and so damn messy.

You’re not damn ready for what comes next. When his fingers finally slip inside, you nearly scream, two of them, then three with his extra middle one sliding into your soaked pussy, while another circles your clit, working in perfect tandem with his tongue. "so tight, so wet for me," his voice muffled as he sucks your clit into his mouth again. "give it to me, sweetheart. . . let me have it, be a good girl for me, yeah?"  

His pace quickens as your walls flutter around his fingers. But he doesn’t stop, not even when you’re writhing and tears streaming down your cheeks from the pleasure. He licks, sucks and slurps at you, addicted to the way you taste, the way you feel. “Ford, I’m gonna cum—”  

You cry out and jerk your hips against his face as you do. He growls, gripping you tighter, holding you still as his mouth moves faster, hungrier. Your walls spasming around his long fingers, your clit pulsing between his lips.

But Ford’s mouth doesn’t lift and doesn’t slow, even when your thighs tremble and your fingers push weakly at his hair to tug him away.

“No, Ford, please,” you gasp as he sucks your clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue against it in slow circles. “i-i can’t— too much. . . im sensitive, Ford—”  

But he doesn’t give a fuck, his grip tightens on your thighs to keep them spread wide. “Just one more, sweetheart,” his words slurred, drunk off the taste of you. “please-please, i need. . . one more, just one more for me.”  

You can’t hold back the loud cry that escapes you as his tongue dives back in, licking and lapping. Your legs jerk, trying to close, but his strong hands keep them locked open. “don’t fight me, let me, let me have you.”

“Ford, oh god—” your voice is broken as his tongue works all over your pussy, it’s overwhelming and unbearable, your entire body feels like a live wire as he devours you, never giving you a moment to recover.  

“that’s it, love, cum for me, please. . . be a good girl and cum on my face.”  

And you do again, god, you do, because there’s no stopping it. Your orgasm crashes over you again, ripping a scream from your throat as your back arches off the bed. Your vision whites out, your mind blank as your release floods through you.  

Ford moans into you as you come, his mouth latched onto your clit, his tongue lapping up every drop. When you start caressing his hair as if thanking him, he presses wet sloppy kisses to your trembling thighs. 

You’re still shaking and gasping for air, when he finally lifts his head, his chin glistening as he stares down at you and smiles. But you still can’t have enough, not satisfied, not when he haven’t been inside you and fucked you properly, you’ve been craving this for months and you totally go for it now. “Please, need you, Ford, please, i need you inside me.”  

He doesn’t even make any excuses this time when he kneels between your legs, his cock flushed and throbbing, the head slick with pearls of precum. “you sure?” is all he asks as his hands come up to cradle your hips.

“Yes, god, yes,” you plead, spreading your legs wider, your eyes glazed with need. “please, i can’t wait anymore! i need you.”  

He knows you do because he’s in absolutely same state as you, needy and desperate to fuck you, that’s why he’s pressing into you, the thick head of his cock stretching you open and you both moan loudly when he slides deeper, his girth filling you.

Ford is trembling above you, sweat slicking his brow as he inches himself inside carefully, terrified he might hurt you or worse, lose control. But you’re ready, so ready, your nails digging into his shoulders, “more, please, i can take it.”

Ford’s hips stutter as he bottoms out, his cock buried to the hilt. “Y-you’re so tight, sweetheart, so damn tight. i don’t— don’t know if i can move. . . feels too good. . . god, you’re perfect.”  

You’re no better because your walls clench around him and your voice so high and breathless as you cry, “so full, Ford— oh my god, you’re so big.”

“I know, love, i know,” he soothes, finding your parted lips with his as he starts to move slowly, making shallow thrusts that have you both gasping. “you’re doing so good, taking me so well, feels like heaven, baby.”  

You feel every inch of him, every twitching vein as he sinks deeper, the stretch delicious, making your head spin. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him on. Your wet pussy squeezes his dick so good he nearly loses it right there.

And it’s too much, too good to be true, both of you letting out incoherent sounds and slurred praises as he thrusts into you, moving faster, his thick cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. You try to move together with him, creating a perfect sync.

“You feel so good, sweetheart, too good. i don’t— I don’t think i’m gonna last.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, cupping his cheek when you look right into his dazed eyes. “fuck me harder, Ford, please. . . need you so bad.”

He hears you, snapping his hips against yours, his pace quickening as he loses himself in you. Your moans about how good it feels fill the air while your hands are clawing at his back, nails biting into his skin as you try to pull him closer where it seems impossible. His scars feel rough under your touch as your fingers trace them blindly, making Ford moan at the sensation. His hips jerk forward, driving deeper and you cry out.

“So tight,” he groans into your ear. “you’re squeezing me, love, c-can’t think. . . you feel— oh, sweetheart, pussy so good.”

Your nails dig deeper, leaving crescents in his skin as he fucks into you with deep thrusts that have you gasping. “more, please, more,” you beg and he obeys without question, burying himself deeper, harder into your cunt.

“That’s it, love,” his hand slips between your hot bodies to find your aching clit, circling his fingers over the swollen nub with featherlight touches. “look at you. . . so beautiful, so good for me, you’re perfect, love. . . my perfect girl.”

Your vision blurs when he thrusts into you, at the same time his thumb presses down on your clit and a sharp cry spilling from your lips as the pleasure builds.

“Ford!” you whimper while your hands clutch at him. “oh god, i—”

“I know, love, i know, i feel it, let go for me, sweetheart, cum for me.

His beautiful voice and words are enough to pull you through another powerful orgasm, your body tense as you finish, breathless, boneless, drunk on his cock.

Ford’s dick throbs as your release slicks his length, dripping down to pool at the base of him. “you’re so wet, sweetheart, good girl.”

You cant think, not really, too fucked out and tired, your body trembles and you can barely take a breath, but Ford doesn’t stop, determined to fuck your brains out. His thumb circles your clit again and your hips jerk away, the overstimulation making you whimper. “n-no, wait— I’m sensitive—”

“Just one more, love,” he pleads. “please, baby, just one more for me. you can do it, I know you can.”

You try to close your legs and your body twitches with every touch, too much to handle, but Ford holds you open firmly, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, your shoulder, anywhere he can reach. “you’re so good to me, so good, can’t get enough of you.”

He continues thrusting into you, filling your pussy to the brim and pulling out, slamming back again, you feel good, you do, especially with right amount of pressure being applied to your clit, but pleasure borders with sensitivity and little pain from overstimulation as he drags against that tender spot inside you. “Fuck, please! i can’t—”

“You can. You’re my good girl, you can give me one more, please, baby, cum on my cock again.” his words light a fire in your veins because the coil of pleasure tightening and building again despite the ache, despite all these overwhelming sensations. He fucks you so deliciously, grinding his hips into you in deep, slow rolls that make your toes curl and eyes roll, your nails scraping across his shoulders and back, all over his old scars. Ford groans at the sting.

“That’s it, love, just like that, let me have all of you.” he wets his fingers with saliva before bringing them on your sensitive nub again. “you like that? y-you like it when i touch you here, sweetheart? tell me, tell me how good it feels.”

“So gooood. . . feels so good, ford, don’t stop, please don’t stop, fuck me, fuck me!” and then you break again, another orgasm crashing over you, but this time you literally scream from how good it feels, your body convulses, your nails dig into his back with such force that blood comes out. Ford watches you come undone as he fucks you through it, his cock coated in your juices once again.

Ford cant hold himself anymore because you notice how his thrusts grow more deeper, harder, more erratic. His sweaty forehead is pressed against yours, his groans changing into desperate pants and you feel how close he is because his cock twitches inside you, his body trembles as he fights to hold on. “don’t w-worry, don’t worry, I’ll pull out— I’ll—”  

“No!” the word bursts out of you in a panic and immediately, you lock your legs around his waist to prevent that. “no, no, Ford, please, don’t, you can’t, don’t leave me, please—” your words tumble out in a frantic, incoherent mess, more sob than speech honestly as you cling to him like your life depends on it. “please,” you babble, your nails scraping against his skin, pulling him impossibly closer. “need it, need you, don’t pull out, please, please, please—”  

His surprised eyes fly open as he processes your words. “but—”

All you do is nod frantically in response, hot tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, your legs squeezing around his waist to keep him in place. “yes, inside, cum inside me, I need it, I need you to cum inside me”  

Ford groans as he gives in, his hips snapping forward with a force that makes you cry out. He holds your thighs, spreading you wider for himself as he buries himself to the hilt, as deep as he can go. He growls as his head falls back, he squeezes his eyes shut and just loses himself. “gonna— g-gonna cum inside you. . .”  

It happens, finally, his hips slam into you one last time and he finishes, his cock pulses as his cum paints your walls white. He hides his face into your neck while loud sound tears from his throat, halfway between a groan and whine. He rolls his hips, continuing to sloppily and lazily thrust into your pussy, grinding against you, unable to stop because he needs to give you every last drop of himself. “you’re— my love, so good, I feel so good. . .”

You lay under him and take it all, milking him for everything he has. Your fingers tracing his beautiful scars, ones you gave him now and his own ones, smearing a little blood over his skin, your legs tightening around him as you whimper, feeling every pulse of him, every twitch of his cock inside as he fills you. Oh god, such intimacy leaves you dizzy, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst.  

“Thank you, Ford,” your body arches into him, asking, no, seeking more, always more. “feels so good. . .”

Ford finally comes back to his senses upon hearing your voice, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close as he shudders through the last waves of his orgasm. He presses kisses to your face, your neck, your shoulders. “I love you, i never want to let you go.”  

He pulls out with a shaky groan as he tries to catch his breath, his cock still glistening and twitching. But the loss of him leaves you feeling achingly empty, your walls clenching around nothing as a soft whimper escapes your lips.  

Ford is frozen above you, though, his chest heaving, his wide eyes fixed between your legs. The sight of his warm thick seed slowly trickling out of you renders him completely silent.

You let out a deep sigh, dazed, a dumb little smile curling at your lips as you look up at him, completely blissed out and so beautifully ruined. You trail your fingers down slowly, maybe to tease him once more, until finally dipping between your thighs to catch the mess he’s made.  

You circle your clit gently, then lowering your fingers to your hole, collecting his cum, covering your fingers with this sticky mess and Ford tracks every movement. And then, oh, you push it back inside, curling your fingers deep, your head falling back with a quiet moan as you savour every drop.  

Ford fucking whimpers at the sight as he watches you pump his sperm back into yourself.

“Don’t. . . don’t want to lose it,” you smile, looking at your scientist through half-lidded eyes, gaze unfocused. “don’t want it to go to waste, want to feel you.”  

Before you can say another word, he’s on you again. His hands spread your thighs wides when he positions himself at your entrance. Without word, he pushes back in, groaning as he stretches you open again. “you’re beautiful,” he gives you a kiss, while slowly fucking his cum back into you again, making sure to not miss a drop, letting it stay where it belongs.  

You hold him close, caressing his face and looking into his beautiful eyes. “I love you so much,” but you get interrupted by a little sudden thrust he makes. “oh, ah, Ford!” 

“Shh, i’ve got you, love,” Ford gives you a warm loving smile, rocking his hips gently. “you were so good for me, sweetheart.” he looks at you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered, like he’d give you the whole world if you asked and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Your crazy heart thunders in your ears as you hug and cuddle him, lost in the way he fills you so completely, so perfectly, like you were made for this.

The two of you don’t even bother moving because there’s simply no energy left to clean up. Ford stays buried inside you with his heavy body on top of yours like a blanket. For the first time in life, you feel that safe, good and loved, warm and. . . full in every sense of the word.

Sometime later. . . hours? you’re not sure, but the soft gray light of dawn creeping through the curtains. You feel Ford’s broad chest pressed against your back and suddenly his hand skims up your thigh.

“Ford,” you murmur, half-asleep as his lips brush the curve of your shoulder. His hand finds your leg, gently lifting it as he settles himself against you. “yes, please. . .” you smile, closing your eyes as you feel his cock rubbing against your folds.

He kisses the side of your neck. “just need you again, can’t help it. . . need to feel your pussy around me.”

You moan softly as he slides into you from behind. The angle is perfect as he fills you, sending shivers through your sleepy body. His hand lays on your thigh, holding you steady as he starts rocking into you, slowly, still sleepy, but fucking deep, each thrust making you sigh and whimper.

“I’ll never get enough of you,” his free hand skims over your waist, cupping your breast and playing with your nipple.

Meanwhile your hand reaches back to clutch at his hip and your head falls back onto his shoulder, Ford drives deeper into your pussy. “Ford. . . oh, Ford, yesss. . . just like that.” you mewl sleepily when you feel his fingers on your clit. 

You dont know what time is it, probably very very early morning, but you let him take you. There’s no rush, no urgency, just sleepy, languid thrusts and quiet soft moans you two share in the early morning while being half awake.

The sun is higher now, casting autumn golden streaks across the room, when you wake again. You’re alone in the bed and your body deliciously sore, marked with the evidence of last night. . . and this morning. Faint marks of kisses and hickeys bloom along your skin, the ache in your thighs reminds you of how thoroughly he’d claimed you.

The blanket is all over you, keeping you warm despite your nudity. You stretch out, yawning and blink away the last traces of sleep, but you notice him at the edge of the bed. Ford sits with his scarred back to you, hair messy, but his posture is perfectly straight as he leans over his. . . ah, yeah, now you see it, journal.

He’s scribbling something down there, intense focused, face serious and you just lay there, enjoying comfortable silence and watching him, taking in the way he looks so handsome even in his rumpled state.

“Morning, genius,” you murmur finally.

Ford glances over his shoulder. “Oh, good morning, love,” he says warmly, setting the journal aside and moving to your side of the bed. He leans down to kiss you, brushing his hand over your hair. “how are you feeling?”

“Sore,” you admit with a smile as you stretch beneath the blanket.

Ford studies you. “i’d say that’s to be expected. Rest a bit longer, okay? I’ll make us something to eat soon.”

“You better hurry because i’m so starved,” you yawn, covering your mouth with your hand.

“Starved, are you? well, you’re taking a shower first,” he says seriously, though his tone remains gentle. “you’re not wandering around covered in. . .” he stops himself as his cheeks flush a little, trying to find right words to use.

“Hm? Covered in what, ford?” you tease, propping yourself up on one elbow.  

“You know what, honey, don’t make me say that.”

Your eyes flick to his journal. “what are you even writing in there, anyway? can’t believe you’re making notes after the night we had. Is it, like, some x-rated research?”  

Because of your question, Ford straightens up, his face expression changes, the earlier embarrassment melting away as excitement takes its place. He looks like he’s just cracked the secret of the universe. “actually,” he begins, adjusting his glasses, “i think i’ve finally solved the equation for that anomaly we’ve been tracking! The one that disappeared because of the rainstorm, remember? I had a theory about the dimensional distortion rate and this morning, it all just clicked!” Ford launches into an explanation now. 

You, however, just blink at him and knowing grin spreads across your face. “so, what you’re saying is. . . my pussy literally makes you smarter?”  

Ford stops mid-sentence as he stares at you, flustered. “i— I wouldn’t put it like that,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, looking everywhere except at you. “but. . . perhaps there’s a correlation. . .”

You just laugh, dropping back onto the pillows as you watch his awkward attempts to compose himself. “yeah, yeah, Ford, I got you.”

He grumbles something about inappropriate comments, but the corners of his mouth betray him, curving into a shy smile.  

“So, my pussy is the key to unlocking the mysteries of the universe? Who knew i was a genius all along.”  

Ford groans, hiding his face in his hands, “Oh my god,” he says your name. “you’re impossible.”  

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Accident

David Howard Thornton x Y/N - drabble - 853 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: reader gets hurt on accident, actor reader, hospital, guilt, apologies, pretty fluffy tbh just watch out for the beginning because its Terrifier so ya know.... gore - ALSO, L/N just means last name

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

You struggled against the sadistic clown above you. Blood covered you head to toe, your arms felt weak as you pushed against Art’s arms. He pressed the blade further, his strength outmatching yours. You begrudgingly grabbed the blade itself, blood dripping from your hands.You screamed as you felt the knife starting to press into your shoulder, the clown above laughing silently at your pain. The further the knife pressed the more you screamed, kicking and twisting underneath him to no avail as he straddled you. 

“Stop!” you said, your voice hoarse from screaming. Your hands finally slipped the knife through as your blood made it too slippery to hold. The knife plunged into your shoulder and you let out a real, gut wrenching scream.

“CUT!” yelled Damien as he rushed over to you.

You rolled to your side clutching your arm as you sobbed.

“Somebody fucking page medical now! Call 911!” Damien yelled, his hands hovering around you; wanting to help but not knowing how.

David jumped off you, sitting in shock next to you. He didn’t know what to do, he was absolutely shocked. That knife was supposed to be a prop knife but it was hard to distinguish between them, it was the prop masters job to make sure the real knives for show never got mixed up between real and fake. David watched as the puddle of real blood emanated from your shoulder. This horrible pit in his stomach formed and he felt absolutely awful. He snapped out of it when you stopped moving and your eyes fluttered closed. He tossed the knife away, moving to you quickly to check your pulse. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt it. Strong but fast.

“They probably passed out from the pain…” Damien said as he held pressure around your wound, keeping the knife in place.

Medical arrived and took over before the EMT’s loaded you up on a stretcher and took you to the ambulance.

“What hospital?” David asked as they started an IV and put an oxygen mask over your mouth and nose.

“Lenox Hill, we gotta go.” said the EMT before slamming the doors shut. The sirens turned on and before he knew it you were gone.

Set was eerily quiet, “I… I didn’t… It was an accident…” David stuttered. He could see the sympathy on everyone's faces.

Damien clapped his hand on David’s shoulder, “I know. Go get cleaned up and go to the hospital. Were done for the day. I’ll look into it all, trust me, somebody's getting fired.”

David nodded sullenly. Hair and makeup was a quick removal, they moved especially quick knowing David would want to get to you ASAP. He took the ferry from Staten Island to Manhattan, the 25 minute ride having him nauseous at the thought of how much pain you were in. As soon as the ferry docked he pushed through the crowds and rushed towards the hospital. The receptionist could see his worried face.

“Y/N L/N they were brought in by ambulance,” he said quickly. 

“Fourth floor room 831, they’re in recovery. What is your relation to them, it’s only family visiting hours right now.” said the receptionist.

“Husband.” he said without hesitation.

“Alright, go on up. Elevators are around the corner.” she said, pointing.

David nodded before walking over and repeatedly pressing the elevator button. As soon as he arrived at your room he pushed his way in.

Your bright face smiled at him, you looked a little sleepy but that was all. “Hi baby.”

David stood in shock for a moment before shutting the door and walking over to the bed. “Honey I’m… I’m so sorry.” he said, his voice watery.

You held his face in your hands, “It was an accident. It was blunt enough that it only cut my muscle a tad, three inches deep, nothing more. No arteries or bones. Ten stitches and some pain killers and I’m good as new.” you moved your gown off your shoulder slightly, it was wrapped up but you just wanted to show him to show you were ok. 

“I’m so sorry.” he whispered, his hand coming to rest on top of yours.

“Think Damien will put that shot in the movie?” you asked with complete seriousness.

David laughed before kissing your hand. “I bet if you ask he will. That scream was something else.” 

You smiled, “I hope so. They said I can return to shooting in a few days, just have to take it easy. They’re getting my discharge paperwork ready as we speak.” 

“My perfect little scream queen. So dedicated.” he joked. 

You rolled your eyes before bringing him up to your face for a sweet kiss. You could feel how sorry he was. You kissed him over and over again sweetly.

“We should stop before your heart monitor alerts the nurses.” he said, both of you listening to the quickened beeping. 

You both laughed, your cheeks tinted with an embarrassed blush. He kissed over your neck a few times, making heat drip over your most sensitive areas. “Later.” he smiled deviously.

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

Naboo's Note:

Hello! I hope ya'll like the new addition of our favorite boy who plays our favorite clown! Idk how to really write for Art so send in a request if you have an idea, I'd appreciate it! I feel like David is so underwritten for fanfics so I might pump out a few more for him in the near future. Thank you for all the love and support! XOXOXOXOXOX!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[amourtoken]

You NEED to do Quinn’s abc’s

YOURE RIGHTTTTT these are so fun I have so many in the drafts lol

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He's the softest ever. Literally ever. It doesn't matter how hard he was fucking you or how rough he got with his words, the second it's over he's already taking on that softie persona again. He'll hold you close and kiss all over your face, complimenting you and praising you for doing so good for him. If you need anything, he'll get it for you, you're not allowed to so much as lift a finger. He always offers up one of his shirts for you so you don't have to go through the effort of getting totally dressed up, you can just throw it on and get back to being curled up in his arms where you really belong.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your eyes are definitely a contender for his favorite part of your body. He's big on eye contact and the way he gets so easily lost in your pretty eyes when you're under him or looking up at him is forever impressive. No view will ever top the sight of you looking up at him through tears while he chokes you on his cock and he stands by that. On himself it's probably his hands, they're versatile and look so nice laced with yours or wrapped around your waist he can't help it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Ik he probably lives off of caffeine and Gatorade but his cum tastes really fucking nice. Salty sweet, not disgustingly bitter like some people (thank god) and he's more than happy to cum in your mouth if you ask nicely

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He really secretly loves being taken care of but he's made it more obvious in recent times tbh. If he comes home exhausted and you wanna ride him while he relaxes and press kisses all over his face, reminding him how much you love him and how much you appreciate him he's thrilled. Sometimes he just needs to be taken care of like he does for everyone else.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's definitely got some experience. The first time you fucked he had you experiencing feelings you never even imagined, it was like he knew your body better than you even did the way he was manipulating you. You imagine he couldn't do that if he were inexperienced but he refuses to elaborate citing "it's the past and what matters is the present" so you try not to think of it too hard.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

I'm on the fence abt this one but I think he's a missionary fan lol but he spices it up yk it's not just pure vanilla. He'll throw one of your legs over his shoulders to make sure he hits as deep as he can and rlly if he's energetic youre definitely getting folded into a mating press for sure. Being into cowgirl ig runs in the family cause I'm convinced all 3 of the hughes love having you ride them too.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Hes relatively serious in most instances but it's 50/50. If he's in a rlly good mood he's picking you up to sit you on the kitchen counter, your legs around his waist while his face is against your neck and you can feel him smiling against your skin between kisses. He can be rlly light hearted till things get too heated then he sort of loses himself in the moment.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I really don't think he cares too much about it but for your sake he doesn't let it get too out of control yk? He's definitely not shaving entirely ever but it's just enough.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Honestly there's really two sides to Quinn, he's either the softest most attentive and sweet lover you've ever had or he's choking you out in the sheets and taking out every ounce of aggression stored in his body on you. Typically it completely depends on how he's been playing but there's some nights where he comes home off a loss and just wants you to ride him and tell him he's doing a good job and that you love him. More often than not he's being as generous as possible and making you cum in every way he can think while he drowns you in kissed though, he's a hopeless romantic for sure.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't really feel the need to now that you're around but before you moved in with him he'd do it on occasion. It was never really a big thing for him in the first place, but if he were really needy he'd do it just to do it. Nothing rlly special about it though. He'd much rather you jack him off now if anything, bucking his hips against your smaller hand is so much nicer than fucking his own fist to the thought of you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

facesitting for sure. Pls god just let him eat you out for hours till he's satisfied. Other than that I think exhibitionism lightly like I say next.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

If he has the choice he'll always pick his bedroom first but dare I say Quinnifer is into a Lil bit of exhibitionism? He'll fuck you on the deck of the lake house, his car, the locker room at practice if he's feeling extra adventurous, rlly anywhere given the right opportunity tbh.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You as a whole gets him going but if he sees you dressed up for an event or wearing one of his jerseys he's automatically dragging you back to bed. Seeing you cheering for him at games and making it incredibly known that you're all his thats rlly what does it for him. You're his girl and he'll never get enough of how proud you are of it.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He's never gonna hurt you. He has absolutely no desire for pain play of rlly any kind and sure he'll choke you or slap your ass if you want but he's not gonna rough you up too hard. He finds no joy in you being in anything but pure bliss.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He would happily die buried between your legs but good god the feel of your mouth on him is worth giving everything up for too. LOVES 69 cause it's the best of both worlds but ultimately he's eating you out for his own pleasure and he doesn't need you to suck him off at all if you don't wanna. He gets off by giving.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

TYPICALLY he's pretty sensual, takes his time with you and draws out your pleasure as much as he can but if he's coming home off a loss or a tough practice and the whole day has been stomping his nerves, he's fucking you to your absolute limits. That's when you get dom Quinn for sure, but the aftercare is so worth it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Theyre pretty common unfortunately bc he's always running around to practices or media presences. If he can get it in with you he's going to and he'll make up for it later with a longer session.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Like i said, he loves a lik exhibitionism and gets off knowing you technically could be caught but you're always just fast enough or far away enough to get away with it. If there's something you wanna try, he's open to everything at least once and he'll never turn you down unless he's worried about your safety. Consent is sexy.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he can go as long as you can handle him tbh, he's he's athlete so his stamina is fantastic. Some nights he's just too tired to go multiple rounds though and can you blame him?? He's on his feet all day.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He didn't own any before he met you but he's definitely a big fan of remote vibrators now cause he can bring you to your knees across a room and act like he has absolutely nothing to do with it. He's evil. Anything he can use to his advantage to help make you feel the best you can hes very happy to use.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He's the fucking king of teasing and you've learned not to dish out what you cant take cause if you think your teasing is bad, Quinn will bring you to tears. If he's feeling evil enough he'll fuck your thighs just to get himself off and have you continue waiting till he feels like you deserve to cum.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Hes less of a loud moaner and more of a groaner if that makes sense. He'll bury his face in your neck and all you can hear are strangled growls and his voice breaking against your skin. He's very mouthy though, he'll praise you till his last breath and make sure you know he loves how you feel.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Would be willing to share you with Jack or Luke for a night. Refuses to elaborate further. (Maybe he's planning something? Your bday is coming up isn't it?)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Mans is ABSOLUTELY packin for sure. 7ish inches probably? He's thick and heavy in your hand and the pretty pink tip leaks when you stroke him (i need him so fucking bad). He's also got this thick vein that runs up the side and the sounds he makes when you lave your tongue over it are downright pornographic

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He's so head over heels for you there's genuinely never a moment rlly where he'd turn you down. Even if he's exhausted at the very least he'd love for you to ride his thigh and make out with him just so he could hear the sounds you'd make. He's always looking at you with all the love in the world in his eyes and it's so sweet :(

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Immediately if he had it his way cause usually he's had an insanely long day prior and just wants to crash but he always takes time to get some good aftercare in for you no matter what.

[siflooping]

adding into this to say that i think it'd be a great exploration of like. ok let me try to word it.

edit this ended up being Way Too Fucking Long so its under a readmore. AND i broke it into two parts (added a bit of siffrin Braintime Thoughts (bad) to the next rb). i got wordy bitch disease!

so first there's the stuff that's relevant to sifloop in both canon and an au like this. loop is someone who changed so much from the Torment Nexus they were put in that they felt completely removed from who they used to be, who feels like the trauma they experienced is all they are. who loathes the person they used to be with passion, thinks that they were stupid and pathetic and needy. their past self who always felt like such a disgusting and terrible person that they assumed even their loved ones were put off by them and always one mistake away from hating them. who thought that they were objectively fundamentally unloveable.

and then loop meets someone who IS who they used to be, as a separate, distinct person. the person they, for a very long time, considered to be worthless, unloveable, repulsive by nature. they get to see themselves in third person, to interact with them as a person rather than an abstraction or their past self. and he's. well. just some guy (gn)? to someone on the outside of their head he's not horrible, mean, disgusting, selfish, monstrous, or any of the innumerable negative things siffrin as a person has always believed to be. they're just. a little guy? who is actually. kind of funny and endearing, who does his best, who loves their friends so much it hurts. who loop ends up genuinely enjoying the company of and caring about.

which i think is neat vis a vis self-perception, self-compassion and the extemely subjective way one usually sees themselves! i just think it'd be interesting to see an angle of this where sif like. remains as they were in act 1 instead of being put in the torment nexus and how that'd influence the rship.

there's no way loop WOULDN'T feel extremely bitter about the difference in their circumstances! i'm 50/50 as to whether theyd direct that towards sif as is at first (why does HE get to not suffer?! Why did THEY have to suffer where he didn't! it's not fair!). or if they'd instead direct it to like, the universe at large? in the 2hats fight they say they hate their country, the universe, the stars, but notably (to ME!) they never say they hate siffrin.

tbh i think either way they'd end up kind of hot and cold, both bitter and protective. prolly v possessive either way bc like that is LITERALLY who they were as a person before the timeloops tore away their personality and body! it's THEM. they're ALL that remains of the "original" siffrin. so if anyone gets to have him, to keep him, it should be loop! they went through hell, then had to do it AGAIN in a different flavor by watching one of their family members go through the Torment Nexus. and break out of it where they couldn't. and of realizing the reason the Torment Nexus existed, that both loop and one of their family members were pushed to the brink in a hell of repetition is bc of a Wish they accidentally made. they lost EVERYTHING. so. SOO! they deserve to have this at the very least (as a treat).

toxic yuri aside, i think non-looperrrrr siffrin's company would be unexpectedly comfortable & comforting to loop bc like. they know exactly how siffrin thinks bc you know. they used to be siffrin. esp since this siffrin isn't changed by the timeloop experience. so there's no anxiety over what he may be thinking of them (be it negative or positive) or if they secretly hate loop, because they can tell very easily! so hanging out with this siffrin would be like... reading a book you've read a million times, watching a play you've watched so many times you know every beat, or like comfort food. i knowww they'd do the equivalent of when cats act like them laying on your lap and purring is totally a coincidence, incidental, circumstancial, and does not indicate anything, you mean nothing to me, what do you mean you're going to the kitchen come BACK DONT LEAVE ME. fun for the whole family!

ok wait you know what'd be interesting and more importantly hilarious. sifloop, but in an au where someone else from the party is looping. can you fucking imagine

[iichfilwypj]

Percy Jackson x reader where she’s the one to show him around camp & its like love at first sight for him? Thank you love ❤️

love at first sight? | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x demigod! reader ღ warnings: none! ღ wc: 982 i hope you like it! tbh i don't love it, but i tried my best! so sorry it took me so long, love!

Percy was lost, both literally and figuratively.

Surrounded by demigods darting around the camp, centaurs sneaking wary glances, and nymphs following his every move with sharp eyes, he had no idea where to focus his gaze.

“You’re Percy, right?” A clear, gentle voice spoke from his right.

When he woke up hours ago, he was almost convinced he was dead. 

Now, it was the only possibility; the girl in front of him could only be an angel.

Percy had never believed in love at first sight. Those stories about falling head over heels in an instant? Ha, I’ll believe it when I see it.

But the second he laid eyes on her, that belief crumbled. 

His heart thudded loudly in his chest as he watched her. He couldn’t help but drink in every little detail: the way her hair fluttered in the breeze, the soft flush of her cheeks kissed by the cool air, and the stray strands of hair that framed her face.

Percy felt an irrational urge to tuck them behind her ear, just to see her better.

She was captivating, mesmerizing, breathtaking. Everything around him faded as their eyes met. Hers were stunning, probably the most beautiful he had ever seen.

And when she smiled at him, his chest tightened painfully, making him let out a breath, almost a sigh.

“Yes, I’m hi—Percy,” He stammered, wishing the ground would swallow him whole when she giggled softly.

“Chiron told me to show you around the camp.” Her voice was warm and comforting. “It’s okay if it doesn’t make sense yet; but trust me, we’ve all been through this. Don’t worry!”

And then she laughed softly; it was like music, and it only deepened his embarrassment. But even in his flustered state, he couldn’t stop thinking about how he wanted to hear that laugh again.

“Should we start?”

For the next forty minutes, Percy was blessed with the presence of the girl by his side as they wandered through the camp. 

She shared stories of her own and of other campers, clearly making an effort to engage him in conversation. His attention was entirely consumed by her; everything she said felt important, like it was the most precious thing in the world.

He made sure to remember every little detail of her voice, the way her lips curled when she talked, how she seemed so sure of herself. 

He was still trying to process what had happened when they first locked eyes, that moment when everything else faded away. His heart hadn't stopped pounding since. It was intoxicating.

His mind was racing, trying to make sense of the strange pull he felt toward her.

“Oh, we should visit the forest! It’s one of my favorite places, but we should be armed…" Percy’s smile faded. "Don’t worry, we’ll be fine!"

They ended up visiting the forest, the archery range, the canoe lake, the stables, and the stadium where, apparently, sword and spear contests were held.

And during the whole walk, he fought the urge to ask what the hell she was on about.

Swords? The real ones, made of steel and used for killing?

He must have looked confused -scared- because she laughed, nudging him playfully. He turned bright red at the simple touch, hiding his face from the sun as though it were responsible for the color in his cheeks.

“I know it’s confusing, but trust me, you’re going to like this place.” 

If you're here, for sure.

“What?” She asked, eyes narrowing slightly. 

“Oh, nothing!” He shifted his weight uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact.

The fuck is wrong with me? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Then, she stopped suddenly, turning to face him with a smile. She walked closer to him, very close; almost like she knew the effect she had on him, and it made his heart race even faster.

“Want to see my secret spot? No one else knows about it.” She asked with a mischievous smile, her eyes twinkling with excitement. Percy blinked, his heart leaping at the invitation.

“Uh, yeah.” He answered quickly, almost too eagerly, but he couldn’t care. He would have agreed to anything just to stay close to her.

They reached a small, concealed area under the long leaves of a weeping willow, which sheltered a small space. Inside, there were some books, candles, and even blankets on the floor.

Percy stood there for a moment, feeling as though he had been transported to a different world. “It’s… amazing, honestly.”  Percy whispered, his voice thick with awe. 

“I know, right? I come here everytime I want to be alone.” She turned to face him, her voice gentle but determined. Something in her eyes made him feel like he wasn’t alone in this new place.

“It’s weird,” he admitted, suddenly self-conscious. “being the new guy here… I’m not sure if I belong.” His voice faltered slightly, but he couldn’t pull his gaze away from her. She smiled, her eyes softening with understanding. 

“You can always come find me if you don’t want to be alone.” She said to him.

And when he opened his mouth to respond, he realized there was something he had to ask.

“Wait... you never told me your name.”

She paused, her lips curving into a smile, a teasing glint in her eyes. Percy’s heart skipped a beat. 

Now he was sure; she knew exactly what she was doing to him, and it made everything inside him ache with anticipation. 

“Maybe I’ll tell you later,” she said playfully. “After dinner, right here. Don’t be late.”

Then, as if to seal the moment, she winked at him, before disappearing behind the leaves.

Percy stayed still for a moment after she left, his mind still spinning. His thoughts were jumbled, but one thing was clear: he was already falling for her. The thought of seeing her again, of being near her, made his chest flutter with excitement.

Maybe that place wasn’t so bad, after all.

school will kill me but luckily this is my last week!! i am very happy! el máximo de faltas en mi colegio es 28 y tengo 27,75 JAJAJAJJA siempre al límite!

[lovestruckduhh]

jealous jealous boy - LN4

lando never stopped loving you, so when you announce you've moved on, his jealous streak hits new highs

smau: social media x real life

warnings - use of yn, jealous lando, yn uses she/her pronouns

an/ ive never done a one of these before, but thought id try it out? let me know if you like it (also this is not proofread like dude this got deleted from my drafts once after i'd already finished it)

ynusername

liked by 2.6mill people

call me a princess, call vogue

view all comments:

user1: HELLO???

user2: did god answer my prayers and send yn her prince?? user5: idec who that man is as long as he treats her right

user3: lanyn fans everywhere cried user1: i rlly thought they'd get back together tbh user5: bb the delusion is unhealthy, theyre over

userln4: he looks kinda ugly

user6: everyone talking bout the man but my girl is in her princess era

LANDO

lurking in the comments of your ex-girlfriend's soft launch was stupid. but then again, lando norris considered himself a stupid man, or at least stupid for her.

yn was his soulmate, his person, the love of his life, yet here he was, nine months on from their breakup sat in his drivers room picking out the differences between the man in the picture and himself.

this was the first time you'd gone public, the first time it felt real that there was no more them. there was no more good morning texts or kisses on his nose after a race.

you deserved the world, of course you did. you were a princess, but the problem was, you were his princess. jealousy ran through his mind at the thought of somebody else getting your hugs, seeing your gorgeous smiles.

they'd ended in march, officially anyway. lando had sensed it coming for a while, but he desperately clung to the scraps, the phone calls he could fit between races, the mornings where it felt like it was just them.

but it could never be just them. not when the world was watching. his three minute phone calls weren't enough to soothe the scalds of keyboard warriors and so called 'fans'. he didn't even realise what was happening till it was too late, didn't realise that he was leaving you on read as he partied, leaving you by the door, waiting for him to come home.

it didn't work, you were alone, alone far too often for somebody who lived with their partner. expectations raised as you passed your anniversaries together and you weren't at every race, weren't releasing music, weren't doing anything according to fans.

the more time he was away, the more time you could feel the anger building, because you deserved better him, and he knew that, but he couldn't let go. even now, the only way to make him smile after a shitty day was to watch interviews of you, just to see you smile, hear your laugh.

it was pathetic, but lando didn't care. he never stopped loving you, not for one second, he understand why you had to end things, but he'd changed, matured, realised that without you, there wasn't really a lando anymore.

fans had noticed it too, ever since you'd made the post on instagram, finalising your 'mutual' breakup, he'd just been less- lando.

but as he sat there, moving his legs so they were crossed on the chair in his driver room after las vegas, he couldn't help but scroll through your following list. it was long, but there had to be an unfamiliar face in there, somebody new, somebody that had stolen his girl's heart.

within seconds, his phone had ended up face up on the floor as oscar had barged in, forgetting to knock. "god, do you ever knock you muppet" he scrambled to grab his phone from the floor. "what are you even doing in here?"

"we're, erm, going out? remember?" his teammate's voice was confused as his brows furrowed. "you weren't just watching-"

"what the fuck oscar! no!" he screeched, putting his phone in his back pocket before standing up. "of we go then, yep, out the door" he said, practically pushing the aussie out the door.

maybe what he needed was to get a little drunk.

he definitely did not need to get drunk.

that was probably the worst idea he came up with as he seemingly forgot that the alcohol in his system only expands his jealousy until it's too extreme to think.

his only thought was you, you and your perfect hair and your perfect smile and your perfect random facts and your perfect voice. you were perfect, and you were his.

that man, he couldn't love you like he did, he wouldn't be able to pleasure you the same way he did. he was made for you, made for your kisses in the same way you were made for him, for his hugs.

you were made exclusively for each other, your side fit into his, his shoulder was moulded for your chin, not his, not whoever the fuck that was.

so here he was, rejecting advances from girls that he could've accepted, but instead, he sat on his own at a bar, his phone in his hand as he stared at your number.

you'd never blocked each other, it didn't feel necessary, not that either of them had contacted one another since he'd collected his things from your apartment.

but he had to know. does you love him like you'd loved lando, do you kiss him like you did him?

when he woke up, with no recollection of what had happened the previous night, lando norris decided that he was an absolute idiot.

2 months after he'd messaged you, it all seemed a little pointless.

you and her boyfriend were finished, your album that had released just over a month after your soft launch with your ex had shown the darker sides to the relationship, and as much as lando hated that you was in pain, he couldn't help but smile.

lando norris was a petty man, a petty idiot with every single song slandering your ex added to his playlist. your album was incredible, and if there were no songs about him, he may consider it just as perfect as you.

by new years eve, he still wasn't over you, not by any means. he doubted he'd ever get over you. max had taken him to a party, not that he really wanted to go, but he was insistent, even a little more than usual, but lando didn't question it.

instead, eh stood with a cup, laughing politely at a friend of a friends joke until they wandered of to get drinks from the bar. that's when he saw you.

you in your little dress, lips red as the cup you held in your hand as you laugh at something your best friend had said. he wasn't even aware he was staring till you turned, your eyes locking on his as you were both frozen in your places.

slowly, he lifted a hand in greeting, the small tilt of his wrist like he had the first time he'd met you. you tapped your friend's shoulder and said something as you walked over, dress glittering in the flashing lights as your hips swayed.

"hey stranger." your lips turned upwards as you neared him, his eyes lighting up at your voice.

"yn." he breathed out, like your name had been waiting on the tip of his tongue ever since he last saw you. "you look incredible."

your face glanced down at your dress, showing off your teeth to the man as you smiled widely, having to take a step closer to hear him over the booming music. "thank you, lan. can't say you look too bad yourself."

"always kind." his hand reached out and briefly brushed your shoulder, his own breath hitching at the contact.

"well, you know me." the statement suddenly felt more than it should do, heavier than anything that they could've spoken about, because he knew you. he knew you better than everybody and anybody.

you opened her mouth to say something before being drowned out by the music quietening, replaced by a booming cheer, "10!"

your eyes once again locked on each others as he took a step towards you, one hand raising to your cheek as the cheers seemingly quietened, their lips hovering over each others until the final number, the final second.

1

f1.gossip

liked by 76k people

f1.gossip: last night, singer and former wag, yn yln was seen making out with non other than her ex boyfriend and current mclaren driver lando norris! the pair were reportedly seen together for the rest of the night and left together. could we be seeing yn back in the grad stand? photo credits: user29464

view all comments:

user3: YOU ALL CALLED ME CRAZY!! PARENTS ARE BACK

userln4: glad theyre back together! user7: we pretending like this isnt his burner- or??

user1: not believing anything till they go official... but

user2: if that man fumbles her again, just know i will hire an etsy witch to cast a spell over your cara for the next century landonorris: noted

[kaija-rayne-author]

Some thoughts on Dragon Age Veilguard a couple weeks after playing/reviewing it.

Obligatory disclaimer, feel free to skip to the cut if you've read it.

Something came to my attention. I need to make it crystal clear that I utterly love the diversity in DAV. It's fantastic. I'm also a heavily left leaning, non-binary, queer as fuck reviewer, editor, and author.

Please be safe and take care of yourselves. Arguing with incels and white supremacists is completely pointless. They sea lion worse than an actual sea lion. Your mental health is important.

Though, every single time the anti-queer brigade comes out for a new DA game, I sit there thinking 'have you bozos ever played any DA game, like, ever?' My guess is nope.

Note: My reviews for DA and my blog posts about DAV in particular aren't edited. I don't have the time, energy, or heart to edit them properly.

It's been 16 days since I finished DAV.

And sadly, my opinion still hasn't changed. Especially after learning about Joplin from my friend's artbook. (Joplin is the original concept and art concepts for the game. It had so much we were all really desperate to see. It was gorgeous. And they scrapped it.)

I don't know why they scrapped it, it was exactly what so many of us wanted.

Honestly? I don't care why. I'm sick of all the excuses people keep making for BioWare turning out such a shitty game.

Were there reasons and difficulties I don't know and will never know about? There usually are.

But those things are honestly irrelevant when it comes to producing a quality product.

I work my ever loving ass off to make sure my books are good. And I don't have a team to help me and a 250 million dollar budget. I do everything myself because I have to.

Indie studios turn out fantastic games with cool worlds, good fighting systems, and interesting monsters all the time. With some help and some budget, sure. But not likely on the scale of what they had for DAV.

I'm both a creator and an editor. When you're making a product for sale, it's incredibly foolish to change a series title too much from what worked before. Sure, fix problems, streamline stuff, but people generally don't play RPGs for anything past the worldbuilding, writing, story, and characters. There's action RPGs, sure. I'm playing one now and loving it (Greedfall).

It's a solid RPG that feels like an RPG. (DAV did not.) The fighting system works. The companions are actually useful. They kill bad guys all by themselves! It's quite refreshing tbh.

When you're creating something for fun, sure, do what the fuck ever you want as long as it isn't harmful to someone else. (Don’t put words in my mouth. By harmful, I mean specifically things like racism, sexism, ableism etc. Not whether someone dislikes the colour green and thinks the word 'triggered' means unhappy or uncomfortable. It doesn't. It's specifically a needed mental health term.)

When you're creating a product for sale, you make decisions. IE. I chose to write a reverse harem series. That's a choice influenced by the business reality that my queer books hardly sell at all.

I still love the characters and world I built, still love the plot etc. But it was still a decision on my part. Because my work of words is my only income. I'm disabled and recovering from a pulmonary embolism. My partner is recovering from a broken back and has at least one, possibly two more surgeries to go. We don't get very much help from anywhere. Money is so tight it squeaks. I'm hoping with the decision to write m/f reverse harem, my sales will improve (They already have with only two books out. Third before end of year.)

So. No. No more excuses for BioWare. They've always, from rumour, had a lot of control over the games they make, even if EA does pollute the studio by owning it.

Someone made the choices that resulted in such a shitty game. Someone approved the terrible (in some cases, racist, sexist, and ableist) writing. Someone thought the editing was just fine (it really really is not).

Someone (likely Epler given what he's said in interviews) decided that it was a good idea to Disney-fie the most recent addition to an adult, dark fantasy game that has historically delivered a lot of horror elements. While somehow condescending to kids at the same time.

Someone decided to remove so many of those dark fantasy elements. It's especially obvious in the not-fucking-darkspawn. They made them goofy, not scary and vaguely horror inspiring. But it's all throughout the game.

Someone made decisions. Those decisions made an awful game.

Someone decided tying your companions' skill points acquisition to their level of bond with you was a good idea. Maybe it looked good on paper. I don’t honestly care. It made it nigh impossible to get them high enough to be actually useful. Meaning your OP character always has aggro. Fine, I guess, if you're a tank player, but what about the rest of us?

Someone decided to remove blood splatter from a freaking BioWare game.

Someone decided to go with that wretched art style.

Someone decided nerfing the rogue class was a good idea. Why even have them? They're just light skirmishers, not rogues. Without, y'know, the rogue skills that make a rogue.

It was a decision, each and every time.

Someone decided everything about that game.

So miss me with the excuses.

I would like actual reasons, but I highly doubt we'll ever get them.

Someone made unwise and often foolish decisions during development of DAV. The results are clear.

Simply by the fact they aren't releasing sales numbers... that indicates it's probably not doing well. Larian basically called their earnings for BG3 out weekly.

It mostly just makes me sad now. DAV could've been fantastic. Because of decisions human beings in positions of power made, DAV, while having some good parts, just sucks.

[xenwrites]

Some theories and speculation for upcoming episodes!

- Stolas depression arc but WORSE™️

- Stolas is gonna wake up to Blitz making him breakfast and doting on him like he always wanted but he's so fucked up from what happened that he can't see it as a sign of love and affection.

- Blitz becoming a rising star, finally, FINALLY getting acknowlegement, money, fame. Then, ego. At some point he'll get so lost in the adoration that he'll start to lose a piece of himself until he hurts someone he cares about (or goes too far) and it draws him back.

- Blitz becoming so busy at work that Stolas spends hours alone in his apartment, just, looking at everything. Snooping a little, when he isn't depressed on the couch. Lonely and isolated while Blitz is happy and unaware, knowing Stolas will be waiting for him at home. Knowing they have time and a chance now. (They don't. Not yet.)

- Stolas will stay with Blitz for a little while but eventually Vassago will show up, and offer him a place to stay that's more suited to his station. (After making sure to look down on Blitz's apartment, with distaste at the photos and the decorations Stolas has come to find charming.)

- Stolas, at his lowest point and feeling that the reason Blitz is doting on him is out of pity and not affection, will accept as to not be a burden and to self flaggilate.

- Blitz is gonna come home excited and maybe with a present for Stolas, or with plans to ask him on a date. Only to find a letter with beautiful calligraphy thanking him for his hospitality and apologizing for being a burden.

- They're gonna miss the hell out of each other.

- Rumors will abound about Stolas and Vassago and Blitz who, having learned love and self sacrifice, and trying not to be selfish, will have to stand back, grit his teeth, and smile like he's happy for him, maybe even say that, despite the pining and ache and jealousy.

- Stolas will take this as confirmation that Blitz doesn't have feelings for him and never will.

- Vassago will, on paper, be the perfect partner for Stolas. Sooo much in common! And so kind and affectionate but Stolas can NOT stop thinking about Blitz.

- To the point where all Vassagos courting attempts fly over his head, which Vassago loses patience with *very* quickly.

- This leads to dark horse villian Vassago with a grudge against Blitz. (Maybe a teamup with Andrealphus who wants Stolas out of the picture entirely not just for 100 years)

- The two of them set a trap which leads to the scene in the trailer with Stolas on the ground and his arm around Blitz, who's brandishing a dagger against Andrealphus.

- The fight is a set up, where Vassago was supposed to "rescue" Stolas (and win his love!) but he's bird blocked by Blitz who saves Stolas instead.

- That fight ends with Blitz and Stolas making out (and acknowledging their feelings for each other) ((but probably not because thats one of the central character conflicts in the show and I doubt they'd resolve it so quickly. Not unless there's going to be a whole other B plot with Stolas as a member of Imp and the show going on instead of just ending entirely with Stolas working there, dating Blitz, both of them finally on even ground. Which is how I think the show will ultimately end.))

But these are just my theories and headcannons and tbh Vizi is incredible at subverting my expectations and making me eat my words so!!!! We'll see!!!!!!

[blamemma]

today i'm just overwhelmingly sad tbh, more than i have been since singapore. bc if stories are to believed, checo is about to leave and liam is next in line. nothing he has done has justified him getting the red bull seat and even despite that, daniel still has no in. and idk what happened there obviously but no matter how DONE daniel was, he really really wanted that seat and this has to be awful for him. i hate it here.

yeah, i'm right with you. i think a lot of people have found peace in the idea that they don't want daniel in that red bull seat anyway because red bull have shown their true colours, however he performed he would have been scrutinised, the cars becoming a midfield car anyway etc etc. and i'm happy for those people, because i do not know peace, that does not lie inside me at all. if ur of that opinion, i don't understand it, but i respect it.

you can laugh at this situation today really and go well, that's it. but fuck me i can't laugh. it makes me want to genuinely cry. it makes me want to scream and fucking shout because daniel never did anything wrong. he waited, and he performed, and he dragged that tractor to places it never should have gone. do i think daniel would have got points in qatar yesterday? no. but that's the point. that car is arse, especially in the straights, the strategy team just roll the dice and hope something sticks, and their shoving upgrades on that car that have done nothing miraculous for it. it was a losing battle in that car, but sometimes, daniel won. liam and yuki have done nothing more and nothing less. but what you would have had in daniel is a reliable pair of hands who would have performed well and wanted very similar things from max, in a year (2025) where the battle is going to be sO tight and that car needs to be perfect to be able to fight. i think the influx of rookies heading into f1 next year has made red bull feel safer. they think that they can put liam in that red bull because oh mercedes will have a rookie and lewis and charles will take points out of each other and mclaren will mclaren. they think they'll be safe. but they won't be.

this will forever be baffling to me. this will forever fucking suck. for as long as daniel stays silent (and i'm not saying we're owed anything blah blah blah, i'm just saying that his silence isn't conducive to any answers emerging) then it's always going to be a mountain of what if's and what could have been's and what went wrong. where did it all change. where did it go wrong.

i simply care too much to be able to forget about that seat. if i got a formula 1 breaking notification tomorrow that announced daniel for that seat i'd shed my first happy tears in months and i'd feel no shame about it. it was his dream. it's where he wanted to end his career. bottas, zhou, magnussen and idk maybe even fucking sergio if he gets his head out his arse, are all going to get respectful and warranted goodbyes next week. my guy had blake and fucking kym illman stalking him out the paddock. that's never going to feel conducive to peace for me. that's never going to feel okay for me. and if blondie does get that seat. that's going to be an even bigger kick in the teeth.

[strangegardendelusion]

andres dumb plan hinges too much on the idea of "stolas will come save blitz because he loves him and then hold himself accountable so i can take his legions! obviously!" when theres like. no implication that anyone really knows what blitz and stolas's relationship is, or that they even care about each other, especially not when stella said, "he finally realized that filthy little beast was only using him to gain access to his grimoire", like, what about that implies that stolas would give a shit if anything happened to someone who was "using him"? thats right - it doesnt! if andres plan had been properly executed in the stupid ass way he set it up in the episode, then blitz wouldve been executed, and fuck all wouldve happen to stolas after. if anything, hed be treated like a hero who was used unfairly by some low life, who was then slaughtered on tv to remind the lower citizens of hell not to fuck with the upper crust. imagine if that had happened, forcing stolas to go back to his home by himself; no stella since they divorced, no via since shes turning 18 soon, and no blitzy, ever again. maybe they shouldve just done that tbh, that way he could take over the show completely, since thats obviously what viv wants so damn bad. (also, stolas possible redemption arc when he realizes his actions actually DO have consequences!) or, i dunno, if she had the maturity to let other people look at her 3 year old script without surrounding herself with yesman, she mightve realized that she couldve kept EVERYTHING she wanted and still had the same ending, at the price of having stolas do the bare minimum and say, "he didnt force himself onto me, i.. forced myself onto him." the ending with all the imps hating stolas would make sense (because they know hes a rapist), blitz being able to even acknowledge any care he has for stolas might make more sense if he'd even SAY what he did wrong to blitz in front of EVERYONE important in hell, being a way to make up for his manipulative behavior and him hiding his face at ozzies, especially if stolas said, "i'm so sorry, blitz. for getting you into this mess, for everything ive done to you.." after blitz says thank you when they return home. (thats just the way i'd write it, because i cannot fucking stand that blitz says, "thank you, stolas, for saving my life," when blitz, at minimum, has saved stolas's life 3 TIMES AND HAS NEVER GOTTEN A THANK YOU ONCE BEFORE THIS POINT and was even INSULTED over saving him the best he could, because blitz needed to be there for his DAUGHTER first like a good dad, which is obviously something stolas has never comprehended since his sacrifice and willingness to die for his former forced sex slave in mastermind proves that, but stolas saves blitz twice, the second time being when hes holding himself accountable for his own actions that nearly got his "lover" killed to begin with? oh, heres a gold star, a thank you from the guy you forced to have sex with you to keep food on the table for his family, and a free imp to wash you just like when you were 12 i mean a totally not trauma bonded bf!)

Honestly, anon, interesting points all around! I didn't even think about all you said before you mentioned it.

Now, having blitz died is a very interesting idea

I mean, it would be very cool to see how each character reacts to his death, like having loona experience her sadness by turning it into anger and having millie and moxxie grieving with each other the best they can.

It would also be very interesting to see stolas hitting the deep end as he realized how his life is falling apart

I could see stolas trying to reach out to everyone blitz knew, and nobody wanted to do anything with stolas

From then on, the series would follow stolas as he deals with everything

[oodlyenough]

well now that i think i've talked about more or less all of arcane s2 i suppose i should also address The thing for me personally, which as anyone who followed me in 2022 knows was jayvik lmao

they are simultaneously the unquestionable high point of s2 for me while still also being pretty frustrating. i was never very excited for season 2 tbh because after spending time in fandom and learning a bit about the Sacred Texts of the impending lore, i was dubious of how s1 would lead into that and felt like we were going to get some square peg/round hole characterization and plot points to match up with league and the infamous "divorce era". i was particularly skeptical of viktor, whom I (unpopular opinion here i know) did not feel was set up for a villain arc, and I also felt all this would happen to a backdrop of the show mashing the no homo button repeatedly the way they did in season 1

so in that sense s2 did absolutely nothing i expected and was significantly better for it. jayce in particular had probably the best/most/perhaps only satisfying arc in season 2 for me. i loved him getting attacked by the mom of that kid he killed, i loved him falling down a hole in silent hill to confront his own bisexuality, i loved being validated three years later that he didn't give a single fuck about what viktor was doing with the hexcore lmao

i also loved many of the broader ship moments: loved loved loved the nonconsensual hexcoring to start the season, loved the salo convo, loved (generally) the council chamber fight, LOVED the convo next to dead clicker jayce about "in every possible timeline, only you", looooooooved 90% of the astral plane power of love sequence, loved the reveal viktor gave him that damn bracelet in the first place lmfaooaofhfl. lots of those scenes were very beautiful or hit beats i wanted them to hit and i was generally pleasantly shocked by how much their relationship was central to the final act.

but ... the downside was that imo for a vast majority of his screentime viktor felt like a different character, and not even really in the "possessed by malevolent demon cube" way that was (maybe???????) the intent. just in a flip-flopy way where i could never tell from scene to scene why he was doing anything or how much i was supposed to believe it was really him vs the hexcore and then it all culminated in a speech about weaknesses and imperfections that i don't feel reflects any of the character i saw in season 1. if I really squint, i can kind-of imagine some emotional trajectories to explain things scene by scene, but it overall is just a mess to me. if i try to imagine writing season 2 fic i wouldn't even know where to start because i have no idea what's going on in viktor's head the whole time

in conclusion: my most confused yeah boi ever??????

[chrisnoelie]

omg all of this is so 😭😭😭😭 this is some of what i was thinking about before!!!! i apologize for how long this got though omg...........

there’s something about them not getting together immediately and instead it takes them a bit more time to understand what they are and what they both mean to each other that really gets me BUT i also do love the idea of them together in college and early on in their professional careers and then they just stay together

i 100% love the idea of joe being concerned about their status because thinking about it too much might ruin their chances of a championship. and then they're fuckin and it's actually quite beneficial so they're like hell yea let's do this more often

and of course there's a moment where they realize everything is going to change because joe is leaving and ja'marr has to stay another year and who knows if they'll even be able to play together again on the same team, etc etc. BUT what i love in thinking about this time is that yes they're learning who and what they are, and sometimes that leads to random hookups with strangers or maybe even other friends, but it never feels the same. both of them come to accept that there will probably never be a future (in terms of a romantic relationship) between them, so they let it go. trying to let it disappear over time, maybe they text/call each other less and less until ja'marr gets drafted and then he's suddenly in cincy and it's a whole new world of Emotions for them.

i would love for there to be a moment when they start playing together again where they realize their feelings never went away and even if they don't do a damn thing about it, it's always lingering in the background

the thought of joe and ja'marr playing for different teams genuinely devastates me but the angst............ the idea of what could've been, never taking that chance to make it happen, ja'marr going to play somewhere else and maybe he's on a significantly better team (i am so sorry to the bengals but you know we do kinda suck) and he gets all these crazy records and the team wins almost every game, if not every game, makes it to the playoffs, maybe even the super bowl! but it's not the same. whatever quarterback he plays with isn't joe, he doesn't look at him the same way, he doesn't have that unspoken connection with him. he's still great! they still have a great dynamic for a qb and wr! but this guy just is not joe and ja'marr hates that.

and tbh i think it'd be more fucked up if cincy wouldn't get a sb win before ja'marr leaves, but with the team he moves to, they get one. that's what gets ja'marr the most out of everything. the celebration isn't the same. he's happy to get the win, but the one person he wants to celebrate with the most is nowhere to be found. and idk the capacity of the stadium they'd be in but there's gotta be thousands and thousands of people there and yet ja'marr has never felt more alone in his entire life.

so ja'marr takes the time to talk to joe, maybe he even just. physically goes to see joe to talk in person. and they have a serious discussion about their futures and maybe since ja'marr left the bengals are missing something in their offense that has a very obvious solution, and joe asks if he's happy with the team he's with now. if he was happier in cincy, if he prefers playing with the other qb, how it felt to win the sb, that sort of stuff. it gets them to discuss ja'marr potentially coming back to the bengals, and then turns into something they discuss with... whoever the hell is responsible for contract negotiations and whatnot. i don't know. by the time the next season rolls around, ja'marr is back playing with joe. it also leads to them not being so dumb about their feelings for one another and they actually start dating for real.

obsessed with them just casually fuckin and it's the most normal part of their relationship, to the point where there's like no distinction between the fwb era and the dating era. the domesticity just comes naturally to them and saying i love you isn't even a big deal to them. and they tell their parents and the response is "wait you weren't dating before?" or "we already knew that" LOL

aaaaand i do have a fic that i want to write but i don’t think i have my thoughts in order LMAO. i’m going to share these tiny snippets which does center around a sort of one night stand on the night of the natty but the idea extends wayyyy beyond that night

the initial setup is the night of the championship, where it’s just a bunch of joe processing his emotions and believing everything is one sided between them. verrrrrrry much just angst and pure sadness here

and then once it gets into the bengals era, it gets Complicated. because their fwb era doesn’t actually start until here, in this particular au. they don’t actually really talk about their previous hookup, and once they become fwb it starts off as something that happens when they lose games, when they win close ones, eventually when they win the afc championship, etc.

the super bowl is actually also what i thought about in terms of them recognizing what they are, and if i were actually writing this in full (never say never, but it'll take me forever lol), there's 100% a callback moment to the national championship being the moment where joe realizes his feelings for ja'marr versus the super bowl being where ja'marr realizes his feelings for joe. and even then, maybe they still don't get their shit together because they're so focused on the mistakes they made that led to their loss but they have another hookup before they head back to cincinnati.

and then things get Weird bc i love angst. as they work their way back in the offseason they're also working through this sense of failure that's inevitably going to follow them for a while (even though it's still a huge accomplishment for them to even get that far to begin with!!) so when they hook up, at this point, it's very... emotional, without being emotional. it's two idiot men who are both in love but would rather not acknowledge it out of fear for both losing their friendship and ruining what they're capable of on the field.

so they stop hooking up bc it's getting too real and they're getting too comfortable basically being in a relationship. they still hang out and are the absolute best of friends despite all of it, both of them still terribly in love. and this goes on for a long time (joe and ja'marr can be very stubborn)...

...until joe's wrist injury happens and he's out for the rest of the season.

while joe watches on the sideline, he has a lot to think about. he thinks about football, of course, thinking about his future and the anxiety he has surrounding whether or not he'll ever play well again, but sometimes his thoughts center on ja'marr. all of his time off allows him to watch ja'marr play more, watch how he is around a different quarterback, and there's a sense of pride seeing how their relationship is a unique thing between them, that it's not shared with anyone else.

they finally talk about it sometime in december. maybe joe's birthday? maybe they get together and do something to celebrate and joe just ends up being so forwardly honest about how in love he is and doesn't let ja'marr say anything until he's finished. he totally expects to be rejected, but it's a weight off of his shoulders, and for a brief moment he thinks it'll be okay. he thinks ja'marr might hate him, but they can move past this.

and then ja'marr calls him stupid and tells him it's mutual and joe just laughs with tears in his eyes from how ridiculously happy he is. the rest of the night they're just teasing each other endlessly but i love you gets thrown around a lot and ja'marr is very insistent on repeatedly calling joe his boyfriend as much as possible.

i'm really terrible at writing fluff so this is all i have on this au. a lot of rambling, and it seems like i do have my thoughts organized to write this into a full-on fic, but i haven't written smut in so long and i really need to do it justice. and again, i cannot for the life of me do fluff, so if this does get written, it's going to be the angstiest fwb slowburn ever written :P and i'll add a couple of songs i associate with this!!

casual by chappell roan

it's hard being casual when my favorite bra lives in your dresser just makes me think about them having random clothing items at the others' house accumulated through several hookups. they're sharing shirts and hoodies and sweatpants whether they wear the same size clothes or not

i like u by niki

both the lines we both said this was just physical, well, one of us lied, can't set feelings aside and thought i just wanted you there, with your hands in my hair, but i crave more make me so insane with this au. this song is literally about fwb so it's perfect here

holy water by now, now

and i'll take my chance 'cause i know you got a wild heart, but i've loved you from the start feels like it's just describing ja'marr like oh my god. also the chorus??? you touch me like an angel, but you kiss me like a sinner??? joemarr joemarr joemarr!!!!

hi hello i keep thinking about joemarr being fwb at lsu but it never turns into anything until they’re playing together on the bengals and they’re a little older and more mature. but when they think too much about what their relationship is they realize they’ve been in love this entire time and neither of them want to be the one to admit it </3

oh hellooo!!!! this is sooo??? i would love!!!!! to hear more of your thoughts on this fwb au!!!!!! insane little tidbit of them not realizing they're actually together are you in my headddd are you planning on writing a fic?? please say yes 🫶

i have. so many thoughts. on fwb joemarr 😔 and all of it is angst. which i don't write. but just the way i have this in my drafts 😭 please don't ask why i never actually reblogged it

i know i said i have thoughts on this fwb au but in all honesty it's very jumbled it's a mess it's unfinished it has a beginning and a little point in the middle and literally no end. but i'd like to expand on it anyway! so:

like 20% knowledge of their lsu timeline sorry (i wish i knew more of their roster btw :(( this would make writing this entire thing easier and more detailed) but midway through their undefeated season when they're finally getting way more comfortable outside of the field, a post-game party in one of the seniors' house, drinking, partying etc, they weren't exactly attached at the hip that time yk still slowly learning how to be friends instead of just teammates, learning how to joke with each other, learning what makes the other tick etc. they end up seated together at a table with the rest of the guys, table small enough and crowded enough they're pressed right up against one another but it's casual you know they're bros completely normal to have your arms touching as you yell at one of the guys to chug etc etc. they just end up staying close the whole time—yapping at one another, jeering at others together, ganging up on justin that one time, weirdly sharing personal things with each other in the middle of a crowd when no one was paying attention to them, smiling at each other dopily for a weirdly long time like for some strange reason, that night they clicked in ways never before outside of the field?? like that moment ja'marr said they both clicked on the field for the first time ever, but this time in the middle of someone's dining room, pressed ankles to shoulders to each other, also in the middle of the loud cheers of their teammates, breath seemingly in one space from how close they were together.

the crowd dwindles but they stick close together, joe has his arm around ja'marr like he usually does at times when his adrenaline is high but this time it's just because he just wants to (not that he fully understands why), ja'marr is quiet because he's sleepy so he just follows wherever joe is dragging him, and they're walking out the house with some of the guys, someone is singing ballads loudly and incoherently for some reason, and joe's house is close by, so they stop there and ja'marr is just following in like a dumbass because he's so fucking buzzed but he feels safe with his quarterback so who gives a shit if he's intruding. none of the other really say anything because, hey why not their star qb and their little wide receiver seem like they'd follow the other anywhere really at this point so have at it. and they're hollering the two goodbye as they walk away and now joe and ja'marr are just alone together in joe's modest little rental and it's quiet and comfy and they're grinning at each other dopily for the nth time and then somehow the most natural progression for them is for joe to offer ja'marr the bed and ja'marr to scoff and say they should just share like hell either of them is fucking up their back on the shitty couch and then they're brushing their teeth in joe's modest bathroom side-by-side and joe is offering him some sweats and a t-shirt to sleep in and ja'marr is just staring blankly down at the faded spongebob t-shirt handed to him while joe is rambling at him how he has just one pillow so do you want to rock paper scissors this or—they kiss 🤗

like you could say ja'marr dropped the t-shirt and stepped right into joe's space and kissed him or you could say joe trailed off mid-sentence because he got so fucking distracted by his wr being shirtless in his bedroom in his sweats staring down at his shirt with those stupid lashes that he reached out an arm to reel him in to kiss him or you could say they just decided right then right there they wanted the other in no other way than like that that they both did the stupidest thing they could possibly do mid-season and kiss their teammate and undress them and shove them toward the bed and climb on top of them and grind down against them and—

they completely blacked out unfortunately for their first time 😔 joe woke up first with his face tucked into ja'marr's neck and he groggily untangles himself without clocking how or why they're like this and he sits up and looks blankly down at ja'marr spread eagle snoring in his bed wearing nothing that he could see and covered in bitemarks and promptly untangles himself away from the bed and out the door and into his bathroom to freak the fuck out by himself. got himself together somehow and starts making pancakes (? does he cook. i don't actually know.) because fuck if this ruins anything between them or their chances of winning the natty his one-track-minded-ness and sheer determination to win saves them tbh. ja'marr wakes up alone but joe's clanging pans in the kitchen so he knows damn well someone's outside and he knows this is joe's bedroom and all those clothes strewn around is both of theirs and the splitting headache and sore everything doesn't stop him from realizing that holy fuck they slept together. frantically tugging yesterday's clothes on, panic mounting like crazy, probably crying too, and stopping right in front of the closed door with his head pressed against the wood feeling like everything is falling apart. he musters up the courage to walk out anyway and he can't read joe as well as he does now while joe's putting up a frigid front through sheer stubbornness when he's also freaking the fuck out inside especially when he comes face to face with an ashen-faced ja'marr clearly crying too.

there should be like more after this like hooking up only sometimes, growing closer and attributing it to how they're also fucking now but is it really all there is to it. they completely sidestep that initial awkwardness because what else could they do they got a game to win a championship to get to. they get sooooo much better on the field making each other look stupid good etc etc. and throughout this shit show of sleeping with each other they have talked about it just once and that was to say 'I don't think im gay but' and how there's 'no harm' in continuing the way they do. yeah.

things come to a stop after the natty of course, they don't see each other as often because joe's getting ready for his combine (?????) etc i don't actually know what goes on after tbh but basically they grow apart, joe moves out of nola back to ohio, gets into cincy, gets injured, etc. i think i could add like more to this entire arc (?? what fucking arc) but no thoughts rn tbh. oh but this little period is also where they come to terms with their sexuality!! being apart for a whole year, learning how to be somebody without the other, exploring other options, settling firmer on who they are, etc.

ja'marr gets into bengals, and things don't really start up again at first because they don't really feel like it? like they're still relearning who the other is after all these months apart? like it was just really genuinely casual to them they either fuck or they don't, it was a bit of fun, they aren't going crazy when they see each other again because to them it didn't really mean much of anything other than a bit of fun between friends! but there's some totally insane underlying feelings that they don't realize of course. the emotional roller coaster of ja'marr's preseason drops getting attacked left and right, joe steadfast in his belief in ja'marr comforting him (there's totally a high tensioned scene of this where they're just shy of something but ja'marr was too fucked up about his drops for it to actually come to anything), then their first game together first nfl touchdown 🫶

they might fuck again after that? but to be completely honest i have nothing else to add to this. maybe some angst of them starting up again and then stopping because suddenly it got...weird? because they're starting to realize oh wow hey what i'm feeling for you is not casual stuff. theres a little 'hey i don't think we should do this again tbh like let's focus more on the sb now that we're yk in the nfl we're not dumb kids anymore' or something idk but mostly i want them to agree not to fuck again untilll ->

this one fucking sceneeee that honestly kickstarted this entire thing but basically post sb loss they just slow-dance to the first time ever i saw your face by roberta flack. this just would notttt leave my minddd. they just dance slow and intimate in the middle of joe's living room. and it's like. after they lost the superbowl. after ja'marr dragged his ass out to the get him out of his head and after a whole day of just getting drunk of their asses and drinking away their feelings very manfully and fucked-upped-ly. they spill out their uber to joes house but they can't sleep and they just. start up the radio that's annoyingly repeating the superbowl fuckery and they just keep switching the station until they end up weirdly in this obscure one where the host is saying something completely unintelligible and then the song's opening instrumentals start up and of the sudden they're just wrapped around one another in the middle of joe's living room.

and then they're just in each others arms and staring deeply into the others eyes and still trying to deal with the loss and this uncertainty between them as roberta flack croons the first time i ever kissed your mouth i felt the earth move in my hand like the trembling heart of a captive bird that was there at my command my love and i just feel sooo fucked up over it. staying rooted in one place on joe's ridiculous rug just wrapped up in one another neither able to say a word the radio conveniently shutting off just dead air until boom who knows kissed who first they just end up in bed together like all those times before.

and its the first time in a while that they actually sleep together again after their pact to not do it again! and the thing is it's good this time! it isn't like any of the other times they slept together and pretended everything was fine and made the stupid conclusion that it was bad for them! i mean it was because they didn't really talk about it if they did it would be great you know but. this time they feel settled! they actually cuddle unashamedly in the afternoon that they woke up! had brunch together with the food that's usually delivered around that time for joe! made very distinct training plans together, fired up for the next season and trying again for a ring etc etc actually making plans for the future together basically.

AND THIS COULD END HERE OKAY like they have full blown realization and actual conversation that oh. this is it. this is literally the it that they've been avoiding for some reason and oh my future is literally you and not just on the field as a quarterback or a receiver or a teammate but you as something so definitive for me that there is literally no other way this could end other than us being together! totally could end here but!! in a separate timeline by which i mean if i could make it wayyy angstier than it needs to be:

like everything is niceeee, everything is hot and horny it's crazy they keep doing things together they've never thought of doing with anybody else! but they're not fucking talking even when they keep getting feelings and freaking out in the most random of moments over the other (hence the posts up top) and then burying their feelings down the next second because they think the other doesn't feel the same and think that what they have going on is enough. really. it is.

okay so like this fwb fic in my head is actually. way longer. like as in ja'marr trades out of cincy longer 😭 just they just keep pretending everything is fine and dandy and that shit is sooo not good for them and this actually ends in ja'marr being unable to handle all his feelings and running away leaving cincy lmaooooo sooo sorry (no idea if they won a sb before ja'marr left or not lmao which would be more fucked up do you think). i feel like i should expand more on why this ends up that way but i can't. which is like why this is never going to be a full fic 😭. it's kind of like that one time i mentioned this in an ask sort of inspired by bad bunny's cloud 9 'you will always be my favorite form of loving' 😃.

this is honestly mostly because of another slow dancing scene i can't get out of my head :")) they slow dance one last time before the news officially breaks out the next day to hey that's no way to say goodbye roberta flack ver. jesus sorry im in my feelings with her sooo sorry but look at the lyricsssss do you get me

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm And your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm Many loved before us, I know we are not new And in city and in forest they loved like me and you But now it's come to distances, both of us must try Your eyes fill with sorrow Hey, that's no way to say goodbye I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time Walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme You know my heart goes with you, your love stays with me It's just the way life changes, like the shoreline of the sea But let's not talk of love or change, things we can untie Your eyes fill with sorrow Hey, that's no way to say goodbye

ja'marr trades to another team, the nfl actually set them up against each other for week 5 and so they finally see each other again after that one last dance where they didn't hook up btw to add to the misery. they fall into bed again after whoever the fuck won i have no idea and. fought......fucked each other up beyond repair.........

i don't actually know how the story would progress after :) so sorry. it's like my mind stopped right there and theres no end in sight to their misery hurt no comfort etc. but if it's any consolation i do think i would end this not fic im not writing with ja'marr trading back to cincy and they finally make up officially and win a sb together <3 (the i love you post up top is set during their first match up btw so they got way too fucked up about it because?? you fucking left me for another team??? and fought etc but the love is there ofc so they called each other and made up etc)

on another handdd i also have thoughts for a completely different fwb au where they aren't freaked out at all btw. like no life changing thing about it they just go on with their lives like 'oh we're fucking now? of course we are' because they're soooo comfortable with each other they don't need to freak out about it or talk about it they know each other why would trusting the other with something as intimate as sex be anything bad. it feels food! it's fun! they love how they are in the bedroom together! and their relationship just progresses naturally to actually being together in an actual relationship because of course! they go on these dates anyhow what's more with feelings involved?

joe thinking 'oh I'm in love with you' as ja'marr unpacks their uber eats for them on joe's living room where they plan on binge-watching star trek discovery rambling about every little thing he could think of and then just nodding and going on with his life helping ja'marr unpack and needling him for his pickiness with food. ja'marr thinking 'oh I'm in love with you' as joe fusses over the new chrome hearts catalog that ja'marr showed him trying to pick over their new matching jackets or something and then just nodding and going on with his life telling joe to shut the fuck up he is not wearing that pick something else. pressing foreheads after the second orgasm of the night and just staring at one another and quietly letting out their first i-love-yous and then grinning at each other and laughing and rolling around on the bed trying to be the first to kiss the other after that bombshell and going on with their lives deciding if they want to move in together, if they want to tell their parents at the same time to save the hassle, if they should finally bring tee out of his misery of pretending they aren't together no matter what tee says, etc etc. just one without angst because they trust the other so much it really isn't difficult at all.

oh and there's this lovelyyyyyy bit of one night stand thing during the natty championship that @cementcornfield cooked up that i am sooo obsessed with that you should definitely read if you haven't!!!

sorry if any of this doesn't make sense or the grammar is shit btw 😭 but i would loveeeeeeeeeee to read more on this ask you sent!! tell me all about your ideas!!!!! please <3

[paddysol]

I’m very intrigued by the lifesteal stuff on my dash courtesy of you but I have no idea where to start with it. any chance you could share some recommendations for getting into lifesteal?

I've actually had this question answered before and I'm still just as unsure if I'm the best person to consult (I am going to just copy most of what I said with minor changes bc Ive learned more ✨)

Ok so disclaimer time! I pick favorites and stick with them and have accepted the consequences of not knowing anything outside their povs (also I'm a yt girlie at heart so i lowkey rely on videos than livestreams)

So Lifesteal is still very much a half foot in, half foot out deal due to most of the events usually happening on livestreams so I’m always a bit late on the current happenings.

If you dont mind just throwing yourself into the lore without knowing jackshit, I'd recommend watching PrinceZam, Kaboodle, Pangi, or Derapchu (for livestreams specifically) - I'm sure there's other folks, but I do know that they tend to stream fairly often.

In terms of youtube videos (and slightly being able to catch up on lore) I'd recommend Squiddo (who is a personal favorite of mine, most of her videos tend to be within the half hour mark and are incredibly entertaining the whole way through) as well as Rekrap, JumperWho, Roshambo (though not much for s6), Spokeishere, and Flamefrags. (There are others, as well I'm just listing who come sto mind that)

If you want to get into older seasons I'd recommend watching Branzycraft as he had a fairly regular upload schedule. A lot of lifesteal folks also tend to post longass videos detailing their server journey - though this is often towards the end of seasons or even a bit after. I also recently discovered that saints exist within the fandom and some important events of arcs (such as the eclipse fed/wormhole from s4 have been clipped together into one video).

I have realized (and this may be my own doing) that there’s usually gonna be unexplained gaps in knowledge which is something I’ve just kinda accepted tbh. (Like in general, especially considering the nature of the server and everyone playing 5D chess)

I also tend to doomscroll through character specific tags on tumblr and usually people can be found rambling about events/characterization which is a bit like putting together a puzzle but it slowly comes together (which a piece or two missing)

Again, I hope this was helpful and if anyone has any additional info please feel free to add on!

[chronologically-challenged]

I think that the party's communication issues can be summed up as "man, is it awkward to tell someone that you want to spend the rest of your life with them if you've only know them for a few months? Probably."

[dailyloopdeloop]

loop and mirabelle. That's it that's the ask

DAY 84: enrolled in the gossip wars

[creatively-cosmic]

in loving memory

or: what did @pkmn-monochrome mean by this