#those are the main things i think. there’s a few other things i like but not enough to note here i think

[beardedjoel]

indebted

dark!joel x f!reader. one shot.

main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: you're having a bad day. one you think is getting better once a rough around the edges man comes to your rescue. you didn't expect it would takes such a sharp turn for the worse. first person pov reader. 9.2k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT! NON CONSENUAL SEXUAL ACTS, READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION, pervy, sleazy, and foul mouthed joel. degradation, sexual favors, forced oral and piv, virgin reader, corruption, innocence, and daddy kinks featured. biiig ol' age gap (reader's age not mentioned other than "young" but i imagine her as 18-20 as she has a relatively immature attitude, imagining joel 50-55), this is not for everyone and that's okay. i'm not responsible for the content you consume.

a/n: i had some hormonal induced insanity and came up with this. i had a great time trying out a new pov for writing fic! enjoy him as much as i did, friends 🖤 and thanks @joelstummy for the amazing freaky beta work!

I’ll be the first person to admit now that what I’ve been doing is stupid. Dangerous. Idiotic. The list goes on. I can hear my father’s stern, militant voice in the back of my head, telling me as much. Except now he likely won’t get the chance to relish in it because I’m going to die here. Way out here where nobody will find my body, and I’ll be just another person that went missing in the QZ, never to be seen again. But this time, it’s not some sleazy FEDRA scheme and coverup or a smuggling deal gone wrong.

It’s utterly and completely my fault.

Sneaking out wasn’t meant to become a habit, but after the first few times, I lost the fear and adrenaline that had burned hot through my veins at those first steps of freedom. I craved it again, so I kept going further. And further. Away from civilization as I knew it, until the cluster of buildings known as the Quarantine Zone became a tiny speck in the distance. Out here was desolation, nothingness, only abandoned buildings to explore. The infected were another story, but I started to learn routes that helped me avoid encounters with them.

It helped clear my mind after a while, this newly found sense of adventure. All I’d ever known was a cage, a walled city that had become so mundane I felt my insides starting to rot from the listlessness of it all. My father was important - top in the rankings - I knew that, and it was all the more reason to keep me safely locked away while the city stirred with chatter of an uprising against FEDRA. 

He never bothered to check on me much, anyways, making my little forays quite easy. Once I’d persuaded enough people with ration cards, they’d shown me the tunnel leading to freedom. Well, that tunnel, then another, a ladder to climb back up to the surface, and only then could I go through a precarious hole in a chain link fence. That was the smuggler’s route, they said, an easy ticket to getting in and out without being noticed. 

I’d been abusing it, staying out for days at a time, never able to drink in enough of this quiet solitude that was of my own choosing, not my father’s. I couldn’t quite figure out what hole inside of me I was trying to fill, but I’d be damned if I stopped trying.

However, today seemed to be my last chance to try at all. His footsteps had been quiet - so quiet - approaching behind me. An old store, full of half decayed plushies, molded candies, and other adorable things from lives long put in the past, had called to me, distracted me. The arm around my throat, constricting, the other coming up to put a hand over my mouth. A dirty, putrid smell encompassing everything as I sputtered against him. This is it, I’d thought. What a waste.

I scream and fight against the strong hold he has on me, a nasty sneer right against my skin. “What’s some fresh meat like you doing waaaay out here, huh?” a dark voice rattles into my ear.

I scream behind his dirty palm in response, kicking my legs back at him. I should have learned more self defense, but who needs it when you’ve spent most of your life safely tucked away with your family name as your biggest protector?

“You smell good… real good…” The creep’s voice buzzes by me as he takes a deep breath in, making me shudder. One swift kick and I’m sure this is it, the one to knock him senseless and let me escape. He’s smart for how distracted he seems to be by my scent, and he’s one step ahead of me. My legs are kicked out from underneath me as I rear one back, and I fall to the ground, the man coming down with me to sit on my back, straddling my body in a fluid motion. He grips my hands behind my back, leaving me helpless in my fight, kicking and screaming. I’m ice and heat all at once, my body burning in a frozen blaze, my fight or flight quickly turning to fawn as his weight presses down on me.

“You can have anything in my backpack, anything! Please, let me go! I - I don’t want any trouble,” I choke out pathetically, hating how my voice comes out in shaky waves. This isn’t how to appeal to people like this, people who have lost their sense of humanity, evident by the way he’s now grinding himself down onto my jean clad asscheeks. 

A laugh comes out of him that would haunt me as evil incarnate for the rest of my days if I wasn’t so sure that I was going to die at the hands of this man after he was done with me. “We both know I don’t give a fuck about any damn backpack of yours. I don’t want any trouble either, sweet cheeks, I just think you’d have a lot of fun with me and my friends. But mostly me,” he replies with the hint of a wink in his voice. 

My stomach clenches, sickness rolling in that is only furthered as the man leans down, cloaking me with his large form. I can’t turn enough to see him, to even know what this violation of a man looks like, but his energy is beyond hideous as I catch a glimpse of his yellowing teeth in a grin before he pushes my head down to the cracked linoleum tiles. My hair tangled in his fingers, he holds me down hard, and I struggle to breathe as he crushes me beneath him.

“Now, are you gonna come easily, or do I need to do things the hard way? Either way is fine with me, for a fine piece of ass like this. In fact, I might prefer it the hard way, but we’d hate to ruin this pretty skin of yours, wouldn’t we?” He says slowly, pressing the cold blade of a knife to my throat.

“O-okay, okay,” I acquiesce, stopping my squirming, just needing a bit of room to breathe, my lungs heavy inside my chest. My panic only makes my chest tighter, even when the man leans back the tiniest bit. I had hoped that my sudden compliance would get that knife off my throat, but it hasn’t. “Just don’t hurt me… please…” I whimper.

He lets out a long, ragged sigh. “Afraid I can’t promise that.” 

I’ve never felt fear like this, such certainty that I was about to be ruined, my life as I know it changing without a chance to even look back. I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for it, for anything he’s about to do next, finally accepting that there isn’t any appealing to scummy men in a scummy world. But nothing comes except for a muffled crack ringing through the air, and then a thud as the entire weight of my adversary falls on top of me, crushing. Something warm has splattered on my skin, my face, then starts to coat my jacket, seeping through. I shake violently, begging my body to catch a full breath under the weight of him. 

Then as suddenly as it happened, it stops, the body yanked off of me and tossed to the side with ease. The deafening thud of his entire weight onto the ground is stark. I flip over and scramble backwards, grabbing the knife that had fallen from the man’s hand in his swift, final moment. Holding up a shaky hand, I grip the knife tightly, looking up to face a brutish, tall man with overgrown hair of chestnut and gray. A trim beard with the same coloring wraps around his tightly set jaw. He’s all wide shoulders, thick arms, broad chest, and my senses go on high alert again. His gun is practically still smoking as it hangs at his side, an active threat.

“Y’alright?” he drawls, thick and deep, echoing through the abandoned shop. One step closer to me has the knife practically flailing as I struggle to calm my hands, a strained hum alongside my shaky breathing the only sound I seem capable of making.

“Put that thing down,” he says calmly, almost exasperated. His stance slackens, one knee pushed out as he sizes me up. I’m likely the most miserable looking thing he’s seen in a while, I’m sure. “You’re harmless.”

“H-how do I know you’re not with him?” I blurt out.

My gruff savior lifts his brows incredulously. “That guy?” he asks, motioning impatiently to the dead body only a foot away. “Think I’d be puttin’ a bullet right in his skull if he was my best buddy?”

My eyes dance over him as I think. He has a point, and he did just save me from whatever debauched things that stranger’s mind had been conjuring up.

“Y-yeah, you have a point,” I finally say. He steps closer, and this time, I let him, putting the knife down. He motions with an authoritarian air for me to push it away, and I obey immediately, flinging it across the room. 

“Poor fucker died with a hard on, didn’t he?” The man muses as his boots thud on the way over to the body, kicking it slightly as if to check, letting it roll back before turning his attention on me. “Now, are you usually this stupid, comin’ into hunter territory, or what?” he asks, reaching a hand down to me, presumably to help me up.

“I didn’t know…” I mumble, letting his hand hang there. He doesn’t snatch it back right away, although I can tell he wants to, that he’s already beyond exasperated by his day and the last thing he’d wanted was a damsel in distress like me. I hate that he’s proving all the things I’d been trying to disprove about myself by coming out on these solo trips into the great, big outside. I’m weak. Dependent. Needy. It makes my skin crawl with self loathing and frustration.

“Didn’t know, huh? So just clueless, then?” the man spits out, staring down at me with darkened eyes that make me turn my head away in shame. At my sullen silence, he seems to soften a little. “I’m Joel,” he says, an offering to go along with his outstretched hand.

I sigh, taking it and telling him my own name. I’m up on my feet, dusting myself off and looking at him shyly now. I don’t know what people are supposed to say when someone saves their life, so I just mumble, “Thank you.”

Joel snorts, nodding in acknowledgment as he crouches to pat down the body, seeming to come up short of anything interesting. “Don’t thank me yet,” he says, standing back to his full, towering height, glancing around with sharp eyes. “We should move.”

I might be as stupid as he says, because I wordlessly start to follow him towards the door. His hand stretches out behind him, open and inviting me in as he checks outside the door with a careful peek, his gun held tightly in the other. I stare down at it in disbelief. “C’mon, I don’t bite,” he sighs, that perpetual vexation in his tone again as he twitches his brows at me. “Need you close by. An’ it seems you have a tendency to go where you shouldn’t.”

My cheeks grow hot at the harsh truth of it, and I grasp his hand without any further objections, marveling for a moment at the way it envelops mine. All calloused and hard, mine soft and unused for labor of any kind. 

“I’ve got a safehouse not too far from here.”

“A safehouse?”

“It’s already gettin’ dark. There ain’t no way we’re making it back to the QZ today, princess,” he retorts quickly, the pet name mocking on his tongue.

“How’d you know?” I ask softly, disappointment pressing in on my shoulders.

He chuckles out more of a snort, pulling me around a bend, slowly leaving behind the dangerous territory that I’d unknowingly encroached on. “You’re a FEDRA princess if I’ve ever seen one,” he tells me, and my heart sinks that I was so easy to read. I’d seen how capable this man Joel was, but damn was he was astute, more than I’d given him credit for. 

I chew at my lip. “Fair enough,” I mumble under my breath, letting him take his well earned win. The longer I hang onto Joel’s hand, letting him expertly weave me through the barren streets, the safer I start to feel. He knows where he’s going, a practiced route he’s taken countless times, and it hits me then that this man is a smuggler. He has to be.

“Are you a smuggler?” I ask pointedly. “I’ve heard that people like that come in and out of the QZ.”

Joel falters for just a brief second, giving me a wily grin. “Look who’s readin’ who now,” he says with a dry chuckle. “Ain’t gonna run and tell your daddy, are you?”

I shake my head, pressing my lips together in a smile. “I can keep a secret.” In fact, I like keeping secrets from my father, hence the sneaking out, so Joel can count on me to never rat him out.

His amused grin in response lights a little flame akin to friendship inside of me. This grumpy old bastard could smile after all. “Just through here,” he says, letting the smile drop, taking a sharp left down a street just as a sprinkle of rain starts to fall on us. It’s a less urban area - more like a neighborhood - sprouted with apartment buildings and abandoned, vine covered cars. It’s my favorite thing about all the exploration I’ve been doing, seeing the way nature can reclaim anything and make it her own. 

The cracked street below us makes me tread carefully, lagging behind as Joel’s hand tugs me along urgently. We turn down an alley, Joel whipping his head left to right before dragging me behind him, finally dropping my hand to open a door that leads right into a tiny lobby and a stairwell. He runs a hand through his damp hair, slicking it back some - a rather handsome look for him, now that I’m thinking about it. I try to ignore that thought as his voice booms through the empty room.

“Up,” he commands, gripping my hand again and leading us up the stairs. 

My stomach sinks a little when he takes out a key, unlocking a padlock on one of the apartments numbered 405 and pushing the old, chipped door inwards. I have no reason not to trust Joel, he saved my life afterall, but I can’t shake the nerves I feel from being in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar man. It’s quiet here, likely nobody in the vicinity but the two of us.

“Home sweet home,” he grunts out, dropping his backpack and gun holster near the door and shrugging off his damp jacket, leaving him in a plain tee shirt that hugs his muscular frame. It’s a small, cramped apartment with a living room and kitchen directly next to it, a little window cut into the wall, peering in on the living room from above the stove. It looks as if it’s left exactly as it was years ago, full of furniture and clutter, only a vessel for Joel to use without making it his own at all. I peer past to see a small hallway I can only assume leads to a bedroom and bathroom.

“Know it ain’t the palace you’re probably used to, but we’ll be safe an’ dry here,” he say, and I roll my eyes behind his back. If Joel thinks that I live in a palace, he’s clearly misunderstood the state that the QZ is in. My father’s house is spacious, sure, but it’s just as dilapidated as the rest of the city. The only difference is the level of protection afforded to our homes.

He ambles into the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets with a clatter, then comes back moments later with an open can of beans and two forks. I’m still standing in the entryway, unsure of what to do with myself.

“Hungry?” he asks gruffly, and I shake my head, wide eyed. I’d lost my appetite the minute that man had grabbed me earlier, and I couldn’t seem to get it back. Joel shrugs, digging in with a messy forkful of from the can. “Your funeral,” he says, chewing.

Joel sinks down onto the couch with a tiny groan, setting down the can on the side table next to his armrest, giving the other cushion an expectant look. “Well, you gonna sit your ass on down an’ tell me why the hell I had to save it today, or what? Why the hell you’re wanderin’ around like it’s a free for all out there?”

I flinch slightly at his harsh tone, but gingerly step my way into the room, unzipping my jacket and shedding it. For the chill outside, the temperature inside the apartment is more comfortable than I’d expect, my skin welcoming the change. Joel eyes my thin tee shirt, and I feel a flash of heat sweep my skin before I feel the prickle of goosebumps, knowing my nipples are poking through the fabric. His eyes catch there before he promptly averts them.

I sit precariously next to Joel on the loveseat, pressed as far away as I can from him, not wanting to cramp his personal space. But he seems to have no problem with that anyways, his legs spread wide open in a comfortable stance, leaned back against the cushions. He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes shut for a moment as he awaits my answer. 

“I was… exploring,” I say simply, cringing at how ridiculous it sounds coming out of my mouth. Who leaves perfect safety to wander around in a dangerous world on purpose? For no other reason than curiosity and a sudden, rebellious sense of defiance?

His eyes snap open, head pulling up from the couch, turning my way. “Explorin’…” He mulls on the word, slowly licking his lips before pursing them. “You’re tellin’ me I had to save a FEDRA brat today ‘cause she was explorin’? You really are stupid. ‘Course you are, look how young y’are. Look how fuckin’... sheltered.” Joel throws his hands up, landing them on his thighs with a soft thud, sighing. “Can’t even blame ya.”

I pluck up every bit of courage I have, glaring at him with narrowed eyes. “Look, it was really nice of you to save me and everything, and I do thank you for it. I’m sorry if I messed up whatever… smuggling stuff you had going on today, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me… stupid.” The last word is quiet, mousy, and I turn my head down, eyes shining with unshed tears that I silently curse myself for. My father’s voice rings through my head - you stupid girl! - making me shudder.

Joel sucks at his teeth. “Hit a nerve, I see,” he says passively. “Alright, I’m sorry kiddo. I just mean, you’re puttin’ yourself at risk doin’ what you’re doin’, and it ain’t a smart idea. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I sigh out, relaxing a little. “I just needed to get away.”

“From your dear old daddy?” he teases, picking up the can, shoveling several more bites into his mouth. I go silent, picking at a thread on the couch rather than answer him. “Ah, another nerve, I see. Daddy issues. Could’ve guessed that one.”

“I don’t have -”

“Sweetheart…” Joel interrupts, looking at me from under his brows, pulling his lip between his teeth, seeming to look at me in a fresh light. It sends my skin tingling, the way he eyes me, a glint in his stare. It seems to prove his point, the way a pet name from a middle aged man seems to immobilize me against my will. I want to slap the smug look off his face, but I have no grounds to do so, only grumbling quietly with my cheeks blazing in embarrassment. A prickle of something else works its way deep into my belly, something warm at how his scrutinizing eyes flick over my body, the lines in his face set, showing his age, his experience. 

“Take a piece of advice from a man probably as old as your daddy, then. Trust me when I say that outside those walls ain’t the place to find what you’re lookin’ for. The sooner you let go of that notion, the better off you’ll be.” 

Frustration blooms hot in my chest, overpowering whatever the hell that sudden, unwanted feeling was. I’m tired of people dictating what I can and can’t do, what I’m capable of. “People do it all the time - smugglers - you would know,” I retort. “I’ve been doing it for months. Never had a problem until today. It was just some bad luck.”

“Bad luck? Really? You’d be that man’s newest little cock sleeve if it weren’t for me savin’ your ass,” Joel growls, standing up off the couch. I wince at his vulgar language, the picture it paints in my mind of what life might have been like if Joel hadn’t happened to be in the right place at the right time.

“I - I know - I’m sorry,” I blurt out, feeling my hands start to go shaky. “Thank you, Joel, I really - I really do owe you. Everything.”

“Like I said, don’t thank me yet.” He steps over so that he’s in front of me, using his boot to part my legs, scooting them apart and standing between them. “Think I did all this out of the kindness of my heart, did you? Didn’t think that maybe I was after the same damn thing as buddy boy earlier?”

I’m like a fish out of water, the way my lips move with no sound coming out. “Joel…” I breathe out in warning, in questioning. I see his arms strain in his t-shirt, hands flexing open and closed.

“I can’t say the thought ain’t crossin’ my mind now. You are mighty pretty. And you do owe me a favor. One big ol’ gigantic favor, for savin’ your backside.” He brushes his fingers along his jeans, palming his crotch for a brief second before leaning forward, caging me in on the couch with hands on either side of me, pressing into the cushions. My heart hammers in my chest so loud I expect Joel can hear it, can feel the fear taking hold of me. He bares his teeth above me like a wild animal, and now I’m certain he can smell my fear too, that he thrives on it. 

“You know what? Maybe you were bound to find what you were lookin’ for outside those walls. Maybe that’s what you needed, is it? Couldn’t find any love from daddy back home, so you wanted to find someone to turn you into their own personal little play thing. Poor baby just needed some attention, did she? Sad, really.”

My hands tremble, my words lost as I can only breathe in shaky little breaths, shaking my head violently. How can this god forsaken day keep getting worse? 

“Please -” I mumble out, bringing a jittery hand up to my mouth. Joel slaps it away, gripping my chin harshly at first, inspecting me before his thumb brushes over my bottom lip. I’d think it was gentle, caring, even, if not for the nasty look spreading across his face, the grin that darkens it along with his eyes.

“Time to put this pretty thing to better use and show how grateful you are to ol’ daddy Joel,” he says, using his free hand to deftly unbuckle his belt, the jangling sound like a death knell, making my throat go dry. “Promise I’ll be much better than he would’ve been earlier. People say I’m… a generous lover.” His drawl is slow and calculated, voice deep with lust, the sly smirk turning to a triumphant grin as he chuckles, amusing himself.

He grips the top of my head, pushing me to slide down the couch cushions into a slump as I struggle, powerless against a man of his strength. He positions himself higher up to bring the giant denim bulge right in my view. I wince, trying to turn my head away as his zipper comes undone, his hand grasping deep into the fly of his jeans, yanking his cock out. When it springs free, I gasp as he lets it slap me in the face. Hot, throbbing, and massive, leaking a shiny bead of precum that had ended up somewhere on my cheek. I sit stunned and held in place by his rough hand. 

The cold hard fact hits me that this is the first time I’m ever going to experience intimacy of any kind. Hell, I’ve only had one kiss before, and it was when I was ten years old, with a boy belonging to one of my father’s friends, a name I can’t even remember now. The first penis I’m ever seeing is right here, right now, in a context I have had zero control over. It’s thicker than I’d imagined one could be, softer too as I look at the skin of it. Veins run along the sides and bottom, all leading up to an imposing, angry pink head at the tip, practically bursting as it awaits me. It’s magnificent and terrifying at the same time, nothing like what I’d expected based on the half-assed health classes provided by schooling in the QZ. Sex has always had a shroud of mystery for me, and I never imagined that all those secrets, long awaited, would be uncovered like this. A dingy bedroom, a man likely almost three times my age, and me as an unwilling participant. Desperation swiftly grips my chest as I realize I actually have no clue what goes on behind closed doors between two people, and I have a feeling I’m about to find out in the crudest of ways.

The fearful innocence I know is about to be stolen from me causes tears to sting at my eyes, fat little droplets that instantly start to roll down my cheeks, leaking onto Joel’s large fingers still gripped around my chin. I start to struggle, my body seeming to catch up with my mind, loud warning sirens of DANGER! DANGER! finally blaring out in a panic. When I squirm, Joel plants one of his knees into my body, keeping himself balanced while still being able to hold me down. 

“Don’t cry now, honey, it’ll only make him harder.” He sneers as he strokes his cock, slapping the head against my closed lips a few times. He wrenches my jaw down, forcing it open. “Nice ‘n wide for this big boy, there we go,” he says, not waiting a moment longer to barge his cock past the opening while he has it. 

He groans loudly as he shoves several inches in right from the get go, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. The hand that had been holding my jaw presses in on my shoulder, holding me in place. I’d have nowhere to go, anyways, with his knee on my thighs, his entire body caging me in, the cushions giving me no leeway to the way his cock is forcefully intruding, inch by inch down my throat. The taste is all consuming - a little salty, a little ripe, tasting like days of Joel’s old sweat, but it’s not completely bad, not what I’d have expected. It’s heady in a strange way, clouding my mind as I try to cope with the fullness in my mouth. 

The next moment I sputter, my eyes popping open wide, flooded with tears as he hits the back of my throat. I try to gasp for air and I find that I can’t. This is torture of some form, it must be. Full panic follows, where I try to move, but every avenue is pinned down in some way by Joel’s massive body. I weakly flap at him with my hands but it barely even deters him from rocking his hips in and out, choking me again on the thrust inwards as the back of my throat tightens, gagging around his thick girth. 

“Open up, relax your goddamn throat,” Joel hisses at me, keeping his cock pressed fully to the back of my throat, constricting any airflow I was hoping to have. I finally breathe shakily out of my nose when he pulls back just enough, only to slide it in slowly, his eyes carefully watching me. I glance up for the first time at him from below, hoping to find any shred of humanity he might have for me, but I’m met with an icy, dark gaze clouded with lust, power. 

“Gonna fuck your face now, like the dumb little slut you are. This is what stupid girls get for wanderin’ around by themselves. This is what they ask for.” He punctuates the last words with a sharp thrust inwards, my entire body convulsing with the gag I sputter out around him, drool pooling around my stretched lips. I would whimper if I could, if I even had the air to do so. 

Joel is relentless for the next few moments, rapid thrusts in and out of my mouth, my head held conveniently in place against the couch cushions for him. He groans deeply, his pleasure evident while I’m just trying to get my next breath in. I time them expertly, learning as I go, letting him continue to take from me to gain his own pleasure. 

“That’s it, that’s right, you’re turnin’ into quite the good girl,” Joel mutters above me, rolling his hips with vigor and making me gag again. I can feel drool dribbling down my chin, my neck, landing on my chest, and it makes me feel ashamed, embarrassed, and a twinge of something else. I can’t tell as Joel grunts, pumping himself in and out of my gruesomely contorted jaw, if the fact that it’s something even remotely sexual has me feeling things I shouldn’t. My cheeks burn hot as my eyes continue to water - how much of it is crying and how much of it is just my body’s response to him hitting the back of my throat, I don’t know.

Then he surprises me by slowing down, languid strokes of his cock in and out with sloppy sounds, a soft hand landing on my head, stroking before bundling my hair in his fist tightly. “Knew you’d have such a filthy little mouth for daddy,” he coos, rolling his hips forward a little further, touching the back of my throat with his cock. 

My body spasms a little when he keeps pushing, grumbling quiet groans of approval. My eyes squeeze shut, leaking out an onslaught of tears. I don’t want to see the aftermath if it ends up that it’s one gag too many and the inevitable happens. But to my surprise, he keeps slipping down, intruding on my throat. I try to keep my trembling body still, wanting to keep my throat relaxed, terrified of what might happen if I fight this. Can a person die this way? Could I really choke to death on this man’s dick? 

“Jesus fuck. Lord have fuckin’ mercy…” Joel breathes out as he pushes even further. “Swallowin’ him down, aren’t ya? Feel me right in here, I bet.” I flinch when he touches his hand to the column of my throat, wrapping his fingers softly around the flesh. When he starts to retreat, the choking is back in a second, but Joel holds me by the throat, keeping my neck craned back, returning to the brutal way he’d been abusing my mouth. I groan and sputter and try to cough through all of it, my mouth stuffed full over and over again before I can get a breath in. 

He’s relentless, and then it stops all at once, his cock popping out from between my lips with a wet, lewd sound. A stream of drool follows, a gush that dribbles down onto my already soaked shirt, and I cough violently, my hands flailing to clutch at my chest. 

As soon as the pressure of Joel’s body lifts off of me, I’m scrambling to somewhere, anywhere else, my limbs stiff and achy, my jaw panging with a soreness I’ve never felt before. He stands in front of me, one hand shooting out to grab the collar of my shirt before I can even get fully off the couch, pulling me close.

“Does it look like you’re done showin’ your gratitude yet?” he growls out, gripping the back of my head and forcing me to look down at his cock, still standing at full attention, shiny and dripping with saliva. I swallow hard, the lump painful on the way down. Joel shakes my head for me, the burn at my scalp making me wince. He presses his hips flush with mine, forcing his erection against my thigh before slipping it between them. He leans in close, hot breath ghosting over my face before his lips brush mine.

“You do make a pretty cocksleeve, y’know. Suckin’ cock like a cheap whore, wonder if you take it the same way in your cunt.”

I whimper, shaking my head, the tears non-stop as they roll down my cheeks. “Please… don’t. You don’t have to do this…”

Joel scoffs. “If I put my hand down your pants to that pretty little snatch, tell me I wouldn’t find you wet right now.” He punctuates the words with a sharp pull on my scalp. I cry out, lip quivering, trying to shake my head. “Don’t lie t’me after I’ve been so, so generous t’you today.”

I’m spinning around, a dizzying sensation, Joel’s strong bicep brought across my chest as his other hand delves below my waistline, plunging deep, right to my cotton panties, bypassing the waistband of those, too. Without care, without any sense of boundaries, his fingers explore, slipping through my sensitive slit with ease. I yelp, squirming at the intrusion, and Joel’s deep chuckle behind me confirms what I already knew, what I was beyond confused by.

“Thought so,” he says gruffly, then he cups my entire mound, giving an almost comforting sensation, holding his hand tightly pressed to it. “Nothin’ to be upset about, we’re just havin’ a little fun, payin’ off your debt to dear ol’ Joel, okay?”

I shake my head. “I - I shouldn't be here… it shouldn’t be like this,” I whisper in a cracking voice, hanging my head low as the tears just keep coming, damn them. 

Joel’s fingers start to move slowly, just starting with one, stroking gently up my lips, spreading my slickness around. I’m surprised that it feels good, a pleasant little tingle zipping right to my core that I quickly lament, hating myself for it. “What shouldn’t be like this, hm? That you shouldn’t like my cock down your throat? It’s perfectly natural, doll,” he says, somehow soft and condescending in the same breath.

“A-all of this,” I whimper, “Please, j-just let me go. I w-won’t say anything, I won’t do anything. I just…”

Joel quietly shushes me, letting his finger do the talking for a moment. It drags up to my clit, rubbing tiny, enticing little circles. I bite my lip hard, enough to taste copper, trying to suppress the moan climbing its way up from my chest. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay that it feels good. It’s ‘sposed to. Good little sluts like you don’t know any better, don’t care what it is that’s gettin’ their panties wet. Desperate,” he growls, fingers sliding through the slick mess that’s now drooling onto the cotton. “Just relax, let it happen…” I feel his breath, hot on my ear, before he nibbles, biting down hard on the earlobe, tugging it with his teeth. It bursts out, the whimpering moan I’d been holding back, just as he pinches my clit at the same time as the bite.

He laughs. He has the nerve to laugh and it sends a shiver down my spine, my brain muddled and confused and turned on by the eroticism at play here. He soothes me by nuzzling my neck, taking a long, deep breath in. I squirm as Joel’s hand retreats, and I wonder for just a moment, a brief, all consuming moment, if maybe he’s seen reason. When his fingers find the buttons of my jeans, my heart plummets to depths previously unknown as he unbuttons them, pulling the zipper down slowly, the only sound in the room his harsh breathing right on my neck.

“Please, I gave you what you want already,” I beg once more, feeling it fall on deaf ears as Joel tugs my jeans down, revealing my pink cotton panties. They’re my favorite pair - were my favorite pair - a rare find in a world like this. Pretty pale pink with a nice lacy trim and a little bow at the front. Only now, they’d belong to Joel.

Joel clicks his tongue in approval of the sight, pulling his head back to peer at my underwear from the back before his hand grips my ass, jiggling it roughly. “Oh, you’re jus’not getting it, are you? You feel this?” he asks angrily, letting me feel the hard length of his cock pressed to my ass cheeks, threatening to slip between my thighs. “This means you didn’t give me nearly half of what I want yet. He’s still achin’ for ya, princess.” 

I grit my teeth, hating the pet name, the way he’s using who I am to mock me. It’s a low blow. I hated everything to do with being associated with my father - I knew he wasn’t a good man - and I hated most that it was so obvious to a stranger which echelon of society I belonged to. If I was so important, where were they now, huh? I want to scream those words at him, but instead I just feel my legs tremble underneath me, my knees feeling like jelly as they almost give out on me.

“Please!” I struggle against his hold, but it only makes him grip my ass tighter, hard enough to bruise. “I-I’m a virgin,” I suddenly squeak out, unsure of why I say it other than some last ditch effort to deter him. My heart pounds as he stills, dead silent with his hand grasping my ass like it’s his next meal, like he owns it. 

“Well ain’t it my lucky day. Shit, that’s why you were sputterin’ all over my damn cock, ain’t it?” he says as the epiphany dawns on him, laughing. My cheeks blaze hotter and hotter, hating that I’m even embarrassed at my lack of experience and skills, like I have some sick need to impress him. He notices my tension, my head hanging low as I cry new tears, and says, “Hey, hey, nothin’ to be ashamed for. In fact…” His hand fists in my underwear, tight and unrelenting. I feel his cock press against my ass again, harder than ever before it slips between my thighs. “Makes me awful excited,” he purrs, bringing his mouth to my ear again.

I only give him a timid whimper in reply, squeezing my eyes shut as I realize there is nothing I can do to stop this man. He thinks I’m a cheap whore, and he loves it. I’m a pure virgin, and he loves it even more.

He squeezes me tighter to his chest, my back starting to sweat through my thin tee shirt. “The hell were you savin’ yourself for anyways? Marriage? A sweet pussy like this?” At my silence, he cups my pussy hard, letting the dampness of my underwear soak into his palm. “Answer me!” he barks out.

“I - I wasn’t! I don’t know!” I cry out, trembling.

“Well,” he says, fisting my panties again, starting to pull them down. “M’honored you’d let me be your first, sweetheart,” he drawls, and I nearly scream at the insinuation. I’m not letting him do anything. 

I start to put up more of a fight, useless against his thick arms holding me so tightly. Cool air touches my ass and the space between my thighs as he manages to shimmy my panties further down even in my struggle. I clamp my legs shut in defiance, roaring out a strained grunt as I keep trying to squirm out of his grasp. He huffs in anger, trying to subdue my writhing body before he pushes it towards the couch. I land hard, banging my knee on the hard edge that supports the cushion, wincing and trying to catch my breath. I’m practically in position for him already, ass pressed out towards him, on my hands and knees.

“Gonna make me do things the hard way, are you?” He scowls, his free hand fisting in my hair again, pulling me close.  His breath is hot over my shoulder, the sensation vile against the skin of my cheek, stained with tears. “Been too long since I found a pretty virgin like you. An’ ruinin’ this perfect, pure little cunt is jus’ the cherry on top of a perfect day f’me.” 

I feel his hard cock twitch against me, a reminder of what’s to come. The movements are quick for how bulky Joel’s body is, let alone his age, as he exchanges the hold across my chest for my wrists, bundling them behind my back. I cry out at the strain, the awkward angle he’d twisted them to, fighting him again until a hard smack lands on my ass. I scream through gritted teeth, not giving up the fight, but another thwap! rings out through the apartment, making me falter. My tender flesh screams at me in agony when he lands another spank, even harder this time, then another, until I’m crying unrelenting, fat tears.

With me rendered motionless, Joel presses down, bending me over, my balance tricky with my hands behind my back. My face nearly touches the couch, but I’m precariously held up by the wrists, the strain already making them ache. The warmth dripping between my thighs betrays me as my ass stings in residual little pulses, so raw and sore but spreading a pleasure through me that I’ve never known before. 

I don’t have time to dwell on it before Joel is grasping one hand on my hip, notching himself at my entrance. “Promise you’re gonna like this, that you’ll never be able to think of anyone else’s cock but daddy Joel’s,” he spews gruffly in my ear before he thrusts hard, one swift motion to bury himself inside of me. I scream out, the searing pain between my thighs making me wonder if I’m being split open for good, if it’s possible that some things are just too big to fit in certain places of the body. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” Joel hisses through his teeth, making the tiniest thrusting motions to ensure he’s buried deep. Every movement pierces me with a new sting as my body desperately tries to adjust, to accommodate the horrible, overwhelming intrusion. “You were not kiddin’, sweetheart. Tightest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever been in.”

I sob, unable to speak, unable to move as Joel thrusts brutally from the get go, his hips snapping with force, crashing into mine hard enough to bruise. The lewd sounds we make disgust me, because I know I’m part of those sounds, my body enjoying the filthy things he’s saying, the way he’s taking me without remorse. He pulls himself out, clicking his tongue as he peers down between our bodies. “Christ, you are one sexy little bird. Poor little virgin bleedin’ on daddy’s cock.”

The thought horrifies me, making my stomach turn. “Please,” I cry out, my body rocking with the motions as he starts to fuck me again, the strain on my wrists as Joel uses them to help thrust himself inside of me starting to gnaw deeper into them. I’m like a ragdoll with the way he’s jerking me by my wrists, my body having no choice but to flail in time with the movements so that he can press himself deep on each cruel thrust inwards.

“You want more? You beggin’ already?” Joel grunts between his heavy breaths, sounding so cocky it makes me want to spin around and punch him. I settle for gritting my teeth instead, feeling my body slowly but surely melding into his. When Joel presses me down further, forcing an arch in my back, I whimper when his cock hits something sensitive, deep, primal. Fuck, is it something. 

“Oh, that’s it. We got her now, don’t we?” he says from above, continuing to stroke his cock along that spot repeatedly. I feel myself losing my will to fight, hating the pleasure but feeling myself lean into it slightly, my hips pressing back to meet his nearly against my will. “You ever come before, sweetheart?” He leans in a little closer to ask the question, the pistoning of his hips slowing the slightest bit.

I refuse to answer, tears pooling in my eyes. I don’t want him to take this from me, I don’t want him to know anything about me. He jerks my wrists at the same time he slams his hips into me, and I whimper loudly, feeling the way he’s surely bruising my insides. 

“If you ain’t figured it out yet, the rules are that you answer me when I’m askin’ you a question if you know what’s good for ya,” he spits out, and I shake my head, letting it hang limply.

“Use your words. Say ‘no, daddy’,”  he says with sinister condescension, stroking his own ego.

“N-no… daddy…” I say, my tongue revolting against the words, bile climbing up my throat.

He moves his hand to my head, stroking carefully and softly. “Oh, that’s a shame. That’s a daaaamn shame. All pent up, y’are. But daddy will make it all better.” He sounds deranged, sick, like he truly believes that I’m thankful to him for what he’s doing to me. I can’t answer, my mouth gaping open just as he releases my wrists, letting me fall to the couch with a thud. My open mouth gets a mouthful of the cushions, making me sick over the fact that it’s probably full of god knows what due to its age and whatever things Joel seems to get up to in this apartment of his.

I blink as Joel grips tightly at my hips, wondering why he suddenly trusts my hands to be free, when it happens. He thrusts into that spot again, harsh and unforgiving, and I nearly see stars behind my eyes as the head of his cock punches against things I didn’t even know were there. That’s why. I’m incapacitated at this angle, brutally forced to enjoy the pleasure washing over my body as Joel takes from me, actually giving in return this time.

I bite my tongue hard, not wanting to give him any satisfaction for the tiny moans that are growing louder in my throat, desperate to be let out.

“Let me hear you, princess. Daddy doesn’t do with quiet girls. I can feel you clampin’ down on my cock, know you’re lovin’ how I use you up like you were meant for it.”

I shake my head in protest, but a strangled sound escapes past my tight lips when Joel slams into me harder than he has yet, puffing hard as he fucks me like a greedy animal. He chuckles through heavy breaths, little whispers of that’s it, come on, take it, flow freely from his nasty mouth. 

I feel myself slip away, further gone from reality as the warmth spreads from my pelvis into my belly, coiling tight. Everything tingles, set on fire, the spot where Joel handles my hips with his fat fingers practically burning with a constant mix of pleasure and pain. I cry out when Joel’s cock pulls that feeling out from deep inside of me again, half a sob and half a moan as it crescendos, waves of pleasure crashing over me.

Joel’s grunts of approval, so brutish and debauched, sends a new wave of arousal through me. I tremble, eyes squeezed shut with my body completely out of my control, taken over by this boundless bliss. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before: heavenly warmth worlds above any of the pleasures I’ve known. This had to be what Joel was referring to, urging me towards, telling me he wanted to make me come. This had to be what I was missing out on all these years, hiding myself away. Was this the reason sex was so coveted, so sought after? Was this feeling… the reason he’s doing what he is to me right now?  

It feels like it’s never ending, my body so rigid as it spasms yet pliant as he fucks into me harder and harder. I loathe the noises I’m making that intermingle with his as I squeeze my eyes shut, enjoying it.

“Fuck, fuck - that’s it - f-fuck knew you’d love it. Come on my cock, baby, that’s right.” Joel’s string of praises reach my ears as I come down from my high, limp and yielding to whatever it is he wants to do to me now. I have no fight - my bones turned to jelly, my body sore all over, my throat scratchy from the way he’d assaulted it earlier. I only have it in me to give the rest of myself over, whether I like it or not. 

“S-so fuckin’ tight, lettin’ me take your virginity like a good little whore,” he punches out, pounding into my sensitive cunt like it’s saving his soul, like it’s the only thing he could ever care about. I’m on the precipice of coming again, my nerves still frayed and on edge from the last one. A smaller but still powerful climax takes over, my body shuddering and tight, milking every last second of the pleasure. 

“Gonna blow my load into this pure little pussy, make it mine - fuck - gonna fill you up like the cocksleeve you are. P-probably never want to be without my fuckin’ load drippin’ out of you again. I-I’m close, fuck -” Joel rambles as he ruts his hips deep, one final thrust and a grunt, and I feel him stall, pulsing into me. 

It’s all suddenly very still, an eerie quiet settling over the room. My entire body burns hot, the only thing keeping me from collapsing is Joel’s hands still anchored on my hips as he leaves his cock inside of me, plugging me up. I want to cry again at the sudden, overwhelming shame I feel, but I can’t give him the satisfaction. I can’t.

Joel pats my ass a few times, pulling out. I tremble hard, falling forward onto the couch without his hold, instantly curling in on myself. I resent the way I’d noticed how empty I felt the second he was gone, how cold my body was without his warmth pressed into it. I dare to peer up at the sick man who stands above me, catching his breath, watching just as the last bit of his softening cock gets tucked back into his jeans. He swipes a hand across his forehead, gathering sweat, staring down at me with a darkened expression, grinning cockily.

When he plops down on the couch next to me, picking up the can of beans he’d been eating before, my mouth hangs open in surprise at how casual he’s acting. I watch his face shine with sweat, his breathing still labored, but everything else about his attitude would indicate he didn’t just force himself on me. 

I try to keep my expression neutral for my own safety as I feel something leak out of me, not even wanting to give him the smug satisfaction of having to confirm my suspicions about what it is. I do my best to position my body so he can’t see between my legs as I try to pull my underwear up from where they sit near my knees, my jeans following. Joel only gives me a knowing glance as he takes a bite, conscious of the fact that a part of him sits inside my now soiled underwear, and a part of me now sits inside of his soul. 

He shoves the can my way and I shrink back at his sudden motion, not taking it from him. “Eat. I ain’t havin’ you all weak and despondent for the next time.”

I feel my heart sink down past my ass, my stomach plummeting along with it as nausea overtakes me, a dizzying sensation clouding my vision. He couldn’t have said what I think he did. I - I’d paid my debt, whatever it was he thought I owed him for saving me when I didn’t even ask him to. For saving me and then doing exactly what that man had planned to do anyways under the guise of a caring, noble rescuer.

“N-next time…?” I manage to make my mouth move, my throat to produce a sound, pushing the question out in a voice that doesn’t sound like my own.

“Know you said not to call you stupid but my house, my rules, an’ sweetheart…” He looks at me under his raised, expectant brows. “My stupid, stupid girl. Did you really think that would be enough? That I’d get an opportunity every man dreams of - an untouched, perfect pussy like yours, to keep all for m’self, and throw it all away?” He’s creeping closer as he speaks, shrouding me on the couch with his huge frame, caging in where I lay, my body wound as tightly as it can to itself to block whatever he’s thinking of doing next. “Now you don’t think daddy is that dumb to let you go knowin’ all that, do you?”

I sit stunned silent underneath him, wide eyes fixed in a tortured gaze on his rugged face, but his hand squeezing my thigh is warning enough for me to shake my head, stuttering out an answer. “N-no. No…” I whisper. 

Two approving pats on my cheek send Joel slinking back slightly, his dark, unhinged eyes staring holes into me as they roam over my body. Despite nothing even visible - my chest hidden underneath my arms and legs clamped tightly - I feel violated, objectified. 

Terror rips through my chest as reality settles in slowly but surely. I look at the man I’d trusted once, who’d shown himself to be a friend, or at the least an ally, currently feasting his eyes on me like I’m a product. Which now, I suppose I am. A whore. His whore.

“Now,” he says, licking his lips, that hungry gaze already returning, a bulge appearing in his jeans and stretching the fabric. “All I’ve got to do is decide just how long I’ll keep ya for.”

dividers by @/saradika-graphics!

[pseudophan]

PHANNIE COOKBOOK SIGN-UPS!!

Do you have a really good recipe you think Dan and Phil would enjoy? Consider submitting it to this collaborative phannie cookbook that will be given to DnP at a meet & greet! It will also be available to everyone to download as a PDF.

Family recipes or your favourite dish from your country/culture is a bonus, but it doesn’t have to be that personal. All I ask is that you don’t go rip something random off the Internet right now just to be in the book, I want food you genuinely enjoy!

I’ve decided the most efficient way of doing this is to let you submit up to 3 different options, that way if there are any repeats (and I’m certain there will be) I won’t have to message everyone it concerns to ask if you have any alternatives. Besides, that way I can choose which version gets in based on your other options rather than which one “sounds better” to me, cause I think that would be a little unfair. I also have no idea how many people will actually participate in this yet, which is currently the biggest hurdle in terms of planning. If only a few sign up there is a chance we’ll end up using multiple recipes by some, and if somehow we get too many I’ll have to pick and choose. I do really want to include as many people as possible, but until I actually see the recipes it’s hard to tell what will end up happening.

The main focus of this will be actual food, but we obviously need to include a few desserts, so feel free to submit those as well just be aware the chances of those getting picked might be lower. The same goes for soups, I assume a lot of people have soup recipes and we might include a couple, but for obvious reasons it's a low priority.

Some key things to keep in mind:

Phil is a bit picky and has some dietary restrictions! He shouldn’t have dairy or chocolate and he doesn’t like cheese or mushrooms, among other things. That doesn’t mean you have to avoid these things entirely, but maybe your grandma’s mac and cheese recipe isn’t the best choice

While neither of them is vegan they do eat a lot of vegan food, so we definitely need some vegan dishes. I also think it would be really great if you suggested vegetarian and/or vegan substitutions you know work well with your recipe! That isn’t a must for every dish, but it’s a nice addition where possible

Tragically, Dan and Phil are British, meaning they won’t necessarily have access to all the same ingredients as you. Luckily they are also rich and live in a major city with a lot of options so they aren’t limited to what they can find at their local Tesco, but since the aim of this book is to encourage them to cook we probably shouldn’t be sending them on a scavenger hunt either. I don’t think this will be a huge issue, but if your recipe calls for something you think might be very niche or local to you it might be worth googling it or asking around

The final book will be using UK measurements, but if your recipe doesn’t then don’t even worry about it for now. We’ll get to that later. You also don’t have to worry about typing out the whole step-by-step in detail in the sign-up form, I just need a list of the ingredients and roughly how to prepare it to gauge whether it’s a good fit.

I promise I’m almost done yapping but lastly, about some of the questions on the form - you don’t need to know exactly how long the dish takes to prepare, that will depend on the person or people making it anyway, but we do need a rough estimate. The difficulty level is obviously quite subjective, but I just want to hear how you personally would rank it, and if there is a specific part of the process you think someone who doesn’t cook a lot might struggle with. As for the last question about photos, I’m asking both if you have the time and opportunity to make the food and if you are able to take a good photo of it. Obviously it doesn’t have to be anything professional, a phone camera is fine, it just needs to be well lit and decent quality.

Okay, I think that’s everything-

Here's the sign-up form

The deadline is in a week, at midnight Thursday to Friday CET :)

(I also made a blog for this @phookbook for information and updates! A lot of it will probably still be on this blog, but I'll try to post/reblog the most important things on there for those who want to keep up with everything but who may not want to deal with all the chaos of pseudophan)

[endless-ineffabilities]

the other side of the door (2/3)

Ewan Mitchell x bestfriend reader

a/n: the way this turned into a 3-parter because I found myself writing an abrupt ending where she just runs off with [redacted]. Oh well. They still have some things to work through. But I would love to hear what yous think about the sweet chaos in this part! <3 — also, that gif up there accurately represents how our Mitchell was acting up in one scene! heh.

main masterlist ▪︎ part one

The one where you try to move on from your best friend.

Ewan leans back against the headboard, having to cool down from one too many drinks, yet Louise's persistent laughter cuts through his calm.

She’s close, so close that he is enveloped in her vanilla scent, commenting at something he said downstairs—he doesn’t remember what, exactly, only that he retreated upstairs for a moment and she’d followed him.

He’s too tipsy to be decisive, his mind too scattered to sort through her words, but she’s clearly interested. Her hand grazes his shoulder as she flirtatiously jokes about how much of a lightweight he is, lingering before sliding up to cup his jaw.

“Hey! I’m not a lightweight,” he finds himself saying, surprised by how animated he still sounds.

“Oh yeah?” Louise becomes more real, more solid as she comes onto him. “So you’re sober enough to come here and kiss me then?”

He blinks, half there, half somewhere else, drifting in and out of the moment. Where are you? Did he leave you with Phia? Then her lips press against his, her fingers threading through his hair. There's something oddly mechanical about his movements. Of course he feels a sense of desire—he is a warm-blooded guy in the end, and when a barely-clothed lass offers herself to him, his body will react.

So he lets it happen and hopes that Louise won't notice his minimal engagement.

He's aware of the rustle of the mattress as they settle back, the sensation of her body on top of him—but it's not what he expected. His mind drifts, and before he knows it, he's thinking of you.

“What about the girl you came with?” Louise asks coyly, her face hovering over the crook of his neck, peppering kisses. 

His eyes flutter open, and in the dim room, he sees a different face in his mind, feels your presence instead of hers. The way your hand feels when it lingers on his arm, the warmth in your eyes when you catch him in an unguarded moment.

His mouth moves before he can properly formulate a response. “What… girl?” He hears himself, and he knows the automatic thing to say next. “Oh, she’s… she’s just my friend.” Because you are, aren’t you?

Then why doesn’t it sound enough? He’s been with a few other girls all throughout your friendship, and he didn’t give them much thought. Because it was never any of those girls with whom he would want to spend entire weekends. He didn’t want to call them right before he went to bed. He didn’t instinctively feel like pulling them close and kissing the crowns of their heads whenever they would be upset. 

He remembers the night on the couch, your head tipped back against the cushions. As Louise kisses him, he thinks of how your lips tasted like peppermint tea. 

And, just like that, his mouth moves, and he murmurs your name. Louder than he thinks.

He blinks himself out of inebriation, feeling a rush of heat. Not from the alcohol, and certainly not from Louise.

But from the fact that he just moaned his best friend's name out loud.

“Wait—what?” Louise pulls back, staring, her brows knitting. Fortunately, she had been so preoccupied with the thought of pleasuring Ewan that she didn’t hear exactly what he said. “Did you just say…?”

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I…,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his head, unable to meet her eyes.

But he's not sorry. He just needs to clear his head. And he needs to see you right away. He has to make sure you don't mistake his unusual absence from your side as indifference.

But Louise just shakes her head, scoffing softly. "Are you not into this? We can... try something else...?"

Ewan just looks at her. She's pretty, someone who definitely turns heads as she walks down the street. But does her entire face adorably scrunch like yours does whenever he says something ridiculous? Does she also take her coffee black with oat milk and two sugars, the way you always do? Would she stroke the bridge of his nose to wake him up if he fell asleep on her couch?

Stumbling back into the hallway, Ewan feels an unsettling hollowness. He doesn’t know why he feels so shaken—he has always firmly believed that his friendship with you was just that. Friendship. The best one he will ever have. But now, a nervous urgency pounds in his chest as he stumbles downstairs, scanning the room for you. Instead, he finds Phia in the kitchen, sipping water and looking unimpressed.

He approaches her, trying to gather his words. “Phia, do you know where—”

“She left,” Phia says, barely glancing up, her tone pointed. “Fabien walked her home. She came up to find you, but you were busy.” Her smirk is ice-cold, and it’s clear she doesn’t intend to spare him.

The words hit him hard, shame and dread twisting in his gut. You came looking for him, only to leave with Fabien. He imagines you peering into the guest room to find him and Louise, and he practically feels his heart drop. That thought lands heavier than he expects, and Phia’s words sting as they settle in his mind.

“I… I wasn’t busy…” he says weakly, but Phia raises an eyebrow and scoffs.

“We heard you, Ewan.”

Oh, god. Phia says something more, but her words barely register due to the ringing in his ears. He’s never been put in a position where he could lose you, and if he does…

His fingers shake as he forces a cigarette between his teeth, stalking out on the balcony. The protracted lungfuls he takes in make him feel sick, but not as sick as the thought of you possibly hating him. Guilt overwhelms him, and he doesn’t know why. You’re just his friend. His best friend. He can kiss whoever else he wants, can’t he? But the thought comes back around to mock him, in a way that he doesn’t quite understand.

You’re only the one who knows him better than anyone in his life. You’re only his other half. You’re only the one he…

You’re only the one.

The night air is cool as you walk alongside Fabien, a welcome relief from the chaos of the party. He seems to sense your need for quiet, and you’re grateful for the space he gives you. But his caring nature wins over, and after two blocks, he reaches out in an easy tone.

“Ewan, huh?” he says, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You shake your head, trying to brush it off with a faint laugh. “It’s nothing, Fabs. Just a stupid crush. He’s my best friend, and I get it. He doesn’t want anything more. I’ll be fine.” The phrases sound heavily punctuated and clearly forced out. The person you truly need to convince is yourself.

Fabien contemplates pressing further—he knows, as does everyone else in your circle, that your bond with Ewan is special. But they’ve openly hinted at it, time and time again, often bringing it up as a lighthearted quip. 

Are you sure you two are not together? Maybe you’ve tried dating in the past?

In response, you or Ewan would dole out the line as if rehearsed, “We’re just friends.”

Fabien decides to take on a new, calculated approach. “You know… maybe what you need is a distraction. A real one. And I know just the thing for you.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow, smirking. “Oh? And what is this distraction you speak of? Or rather, who?”

“Well, I happen to have met this guy, Mat, during filming in New York,” he says, trying to sound casual but you’re sensing a determined undertone. “Plays professional hockey. He’s in London for some training stuff and could use a local guide. Think of it as a favour to him. And it’d give you something—someone—else to think about.”

“A hockey player? You sure about this, Fabs? Those types are trouble.”

Fabien laughs. “Yeah, maybe. But who knows? It might just be what you need to get you out of this Ewan mess.” Fabs doesn’t tell you, but his aim is also to rile Ewan up, which is precisely the nudge the guy needs to make him realise how much you matter to him. 

So Fabien remains Team Ewan, but he’s not averse to using Mat as the necessary turbo boost to get Ewan across the finish line.

The idea catches you off guard, but something about it appeals to you—a small, flickering spark of excitement in an otherwise bleak evening. Maybe this is just what you need to finally put an end to your era of pining for your best friend. You nod slowly, smiling up at him.

“Alriiight…” You hold a hand up when he immediately beams. “But I’ll need time to think about it!”

The next few days, Ewan is everywhere—texting, calling, ‘accidentally’ showing up at places he knows you’ll be. While it’s not exactly unusual behaviour for your best friend, this time, he’s taking it to a new degree. You would force a smile, acting nonchalant, brushing off his apologies and reassurances with an ease you obviously don’t feel.

“I’m not mad, Ewan,” you say lightly one morning when he stops by your place looking anxious, and a bit hungover. “I don’t care who you hook up with.”

He’s slumped down on your kitchen counter, propped up on his forearms. Perhaps he had nursed that bottle of whiskey a bit too much last night, after you ignored his seven successive attempts at ringing you. He narrows his eyes at you as you stand on the opposite side, like the two of you are in some kind of face-off. In these situations, he would have been able to count on you to be his remedy—your hand sliding up and down his back in that soothing way you always do, having a Paracetamol or three at the ready, pumping him with electrolytes, tucking him under a duvet then pushing his hair away from his face. 

But when he showed up that day, you only greeted him with a snide, “You look terrible, Ewan.” and “Want some coffee?” Just that. Coffee? Like he was some typical house guest. Even the hug you shared was drab, with him firmly wrapping his arms around you while you just stood there, and eventually patted his back twice after a moment. 

“You’re not mad?”

“No.” Another shrug.

“Really? Shit, you can’t even look at me. What are you looking at back there? You talking to the cupboard, love?” His growing frustration does not do wonders for his hangover. 

“Look,” you finally meet his eyes, and place your hand on top of his. “You know how I feel about you, and I… I suppose I’ve accepted it, that you don’t feel the same.” You swallow thickly, your mask of indifference threatening to crack. You convince yourself to press on, and that it'll be okay once you lay it out in the open. Maybe things can go back to normal. 

“But it’s okay—” you say, pausing for his reaction. He leans back slightly, his face falling. “—it’s really okay! We’re best friends, and we always will be. I really do care about you, Ewan, and that’s what matters. But I think I just… I need time.”

“Time?” Ewan’s voice comes out weak when he asks. “For what?”

“To get over you.”

Your words echo, cold and distant. Ewan’s shoulders slump, his expression pained. He tries to say something, but the words fail, and he eventually gives a tight nod, though he looks unsettled.

Yet as the week drags on, he doesn’t give up. On Friday evening, he appears at the coffee shop you frequent whenever you want to get work done, startling you from the email you were typing as he sits on the chair across. 

“Hey, love.” He looks spent, the bags under his eyes deepened from sleepless nights, the hoarseness in his voice a result of the packs of Marlboro he’s been mainlining due to his increased anxiety.

“Hey,” you mutter, eyeing him with concern. All you want to do is reach out and pull him against you, but what good would it do? In your defense, you did not think that some time apart would affect him this intensely. Hadn’t you reassured him that you would still be friends, that you will always be? So why is he acting like he has lost you completely?

“I know you need some space, but… I don’t want us to drift apart,” he says, leaning forward and taking over the small space. “You’re… everything to me. I can’t stand the idea of losing you.”

You swallow, a lump forming in your throat. His sentiment is heartfelt, but it’s still not enough. So you give him a polite smile. “You won’t lose me, Ewan. I’m not going anywhere. Like I said, we’re friends, right? That’s what you wanted.”

He flinches, a flicker of regret crossing his face at the bitter reminder, but he concedes with a sharp nod, his jaw tightening.

Each encounter is the same: he’s pulling out all the stops to get back in your good graces, while you do your best to keep your distance. And each time he leaves, you can feel his disappointment, his frustration growing more palpable, but it doesn’t stop him from seeking you out again and again.

By the time the next week rolls around, you’re tired of the emotional tug-of-war. In an effort to move forward, you casually mention something to him as you have dinner together in your flat, not quite meeting his gaze.

“I actually have a date soon. With Fabien’s friend from New York. Mat. So, if you’re free, maybe you and… you and Louise could join us?” you ask, hoping he doesn’t notice the catch in your voice.

Ewan goes quiet, frozen on the kitchen stool. “A date?” he repeats, his voice a hoarse croak, the colour draining slightly from his face.

You nod, trying to keep your tone friendly. “Yeah. Fabien’s idea. You know him; apparently he thinks I need to meet new people.”

Ewan’s hand clenched around his fork, but he releases it slowly, letting the utensil drop to his plate with a shrill clang. A taut smile forms as he nods. “Sure. Maybe… maybe we can make it a double date.”

You agree, grateful that he doesn’t push back. After he leaves, you feel your phone buzz—a text from Fabien, checking in. You realise you’ll have to call him to set the date up for real, but for the first time, a small thrill of excitement flickers in your chest. Finally something new, something to look forward to, instead of looking to the past for what could have been. 

On the other hand, all Ewan feels after that moment is a sinking sense of dread. 

You give yourself a last once-over in the mirror, checking the outfit you’d carefully chosen and then doubted a dozen times. Casual but cute—at least, that’s what you’d aimed for. After all, it’s just a pub, albeit a bit on the upscale side. But you’re actually going to go out with a famous professional hockey player, so you want to make an impression. 

You have to admit it: you did a little recon on the Mat Barzal. Nothing major, just a peek at his Instagram, a few Google searches to catch up on his NHL stats, and maybe one (okay, ten) YouTube videos. He’s as impressive on the ice as he is off, all speed, poise, and confidence. And, sure, you’d skimmed a few articles too. He seems almost too good to be true: grounded, funny, that little bit of mystery that has you wondering what he’s like in person. 

And soon enough, he is standing right in your hallway, looking even better than the glossy photos online.

He’s taller than you pictured, with that easy, devastating smile that says he is able to feel completely at home anywhere, leaning casually with a certain charm that almost makes you forget the other guy you two are meeting.

There’s a light, playful tension between you as you head down the street, Mat walking close beside you, as if it’s just the most natural thing in the world. You make a mental note not to blurt out any ‘accidentally remembered’ trivia—like how he’s the Islanders’ points leader or that he grew up in Coquitlam. Nope, you’re playing it cool tonight.

You immediately find that he’s chatty, but in the best way. He talks easily, as if he’s known you for years, telling you about his day—something about getting hopelessly lost trying to find a decent cup of coffee and then spending twenty minutes looking for his rental car because apparently all the streets in that area of London look exactly the same. You’re laughing before you even realise it, and it’s nice, especially because he doesn’t ask for more than you want to share.

At one point, you catch him glancing down at you as you talk, a slight, interested tilt to his head.

“What?” you ask, feeling the warmth of his gaze lingering.

He shrugs, his eyes holding a mischievous spark. “Just wondering why Fabien didn’t introduce us sooner. Seems like kind of a waste, don’t you think?”

You roll your eyes, nudging him playfully as you walk. So you’re at that point of the date, huh? “Maybe he didn’t introduce us because you live all the way out in New York.”

“Ah, well, maybe I can drag you back home with me, then.” He grins impishly, then gestures ahead as the pub comes into view, cozy lights glowing just beyond the doorway.

Mat glances down at you, offering his arm with a little flourish.

“Shall we?”

You hook your arm through his, feeling a spark of excitement as you step through the door together, into the welcoming glow and noise of the pub.

Ewan stares at his phone, rereading the draft of his message to Louise for what must be the tenth time. Every word feels off, and a bit pathetic if he’s honest. He knows Louise will say yes, but right now, that’s almost worse. He doesn’t know why he even agreed to this double date, just that he needs to be there, to see you, to… what? Compete with Mat Barzal?

It still stings, how easily you’d brought up this date. A guy like Mat, an NHL star who has half of New York swooning after every game? Ewan tries to shake it off, the words on his screen blurring together. He shouldn’t feel jealous—this is bloody ridiculous. But if the only way he can be there tonight is by bringing someone else along, he’s going to do it. Even if it means swallowing whatever pride he has left.

Taking a deep breath, he hits send: Hey, Louise, would you be up for drinks later? Thought it’d be fun to go out with you and some friends… He cringes at how formal it sounds, but it’s too late now. The message is out there.

It barely takes a full minute for Louise’s reply to come in, her enthusiasm palpable through the screen: YES! Totally! Can’t wait to see you. Let me know when to meet :) 

Ewan feels both relief and dread. Louise seems to have brushed off whatever weird vibe he’d given her at the party, chalking it up to the drinks or his own brand of awkwardness. He wishes he could just stay home tonight and pretend this wasn’t happening. But he wants to be there, if only to make sure… to make sure of what, exactly? To watch as you fall for some impossibly confident athlete, a guy who’s good-looking, successful, and probably charming as hell?

He takes a long breath and scrubs a hand over his face. It doesn’t matter what happens. He’ll be there as your best friend. Or whatever version of that role he’s reduced to tonight.

Later, Ewan’s leaning against the side of the pub, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance when Louise arrives. She’s dressed casually but clearly put effort into her look—hair styled in soft waves, her smile wide and warm as she spots him from across the street. He tries to muster a similar smile but feels it fall short.

“Hey!” she calls as she nears, giving him a playful bump on the arm. “Ready for tonight?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ewan laughs awkwardly as he pushes himself off the wall. “Didn’t think you’d say yes so fast.”

Louise grins, taking his comment as a light tease. “Why wouldn’t I? Haven’t been able to stop thinking about it all day. I’m glad you asked me out, Ewan.”

The words should feel good, flattering, but instead, they land somewhere hollow inside him. He musters a smile. “Glad you could make it.”

They start walking toward the entrance, Ewan trying to ignore the tight knot of anxiety in his chest. He knows you’re already here with Mat—he checked the time about ten times before finally leaving his place, running every possible conversation he might have with you through his head, looking for any way to seem unaffected, unbothered. But as he holds the door open for Louise and steps into the pub, it hits him: he isn’t sure if he’s more afraid of seeing you or of you not paying any attention to him at all.

The night starts out better than expected. Mat effortlessly becomes the unofficial leader of your little group, buying drinks for everyone as if it’s his duty and keeping the conversation light. With him, there’s no pressure, no assumptions—he’s just a genuinely nice guy who’s clearly here to show you a good time. Louise, meanwhile, is totally swept up in Ewan, hanging onto his every word, and you wonder if she’s even noticed that his attention is… not exactly on her.

For the first half hour, Ewan’s his usual reserved self, quietly nursing a pint and nodding along as Mat talks. You catch his eye once or twice, sending him a silent question, Are you okay? Each time, he just looks away, tapping his fingers against his glass, a little too focused on the froth floating near the top. But as the night wears on and the drinks keep coming, he’s not just tapping anymore—he’s interjecting. Little comments at first, almost harmless. But soon, it’s obvious: he’s countering Mat, line for line, almost like it’s a game.

“Right, so you like to box in your spare time?” Mat asks you, grinning. He’s been curious about every little detail, giving you that ‘first-date glow’ that you’d been sure was reserved for movies.

“Yeah, it’s kind of my stress reliever,” you say with a shrug, already feeling your cheeks hurt from smiling.

But Ewan cuts in with a half-smile. “We actually started that together, didn’t we, love?” he says, giving Mat a look like he’s testing him. “I practically had to drag her into the gym at first. But now she’s a total menace with the gloves on.”

Mat just plays along. “Good thing you’re into it now then,” he says mildly, unaffected.

And you can see that only irritates Ewan more.

Mat’s generosity doesn’t stop at drinks. He orders an array of finger food and slides the plates toward you, making sure you’ve had a bit of everything. It’s thoughtful, and your heart swells a little at his attentiveness.

“You’re a sweet one, aren’t you, Barzal?” Ewan murmurs with a slightly bitter laugh, clinking his glass a little too roughly against his empty one before looking at Mat. “Though I guess you have to be, right? With all the eyes on you all the time?”

Mat raises his brows, unruffled. “Just don’t like to let people go hungry. Especially not her,” he says, his tone sincere, smiling at you.

Ewan doesn’t bother hiding his scoff. “Oh, so that’s the bar now? Bringing someone snacks?”

Your face heats in embarrassment on behalf of your best friend, and even Louise nudges him, whispering something in his ear, but he just takes another long sip, leaning back as he watches you and Mat across the booth with a look that’s bordering on possessive. He keeps this up over the next round, seemingly unable to hold himself back. When Mat jokes about taking you to a hockey game back in the States, Ewan clears his throat.

“Does Mat know you don’t actually like crowded places?” he asks, his voice sharper than intended. “Or maybe you’ve changed?”

Mat looks between the two of you, amused but silent.

“Is that so?” Mat says smoothly. “I could have you set up in a box. Nice and private.”

You can feel Ewan bristling in front of you, his grip on his glass a little too tight. He leans over slightly, his voice low and challenging. “But Mat wouldn’t know that you’re actually scared of heights, would he?” he says, letting it drop as if it’s some kind of winning play.

“Ewan,” you say under your breath, trying to keep a smile on for Mat’s sake. But Ewan doesn’t hear you, or doesn’t want to. He’s just watching Mat like he’s daring him to make the wrong move. If he knew just how rowdy hockey players get on the ice, he’d probably think twice before attempting to rile Mat up.

Mat clears his throat, obviously picking up on the tension but shrugging it off. “Good thing hockey rinks are nice and low, eh?” he jokes, draping an arm around your shoulders, trying to bring you back to the easy atmosphere you had before Ewan started butting in.

“God, Mat, must be nice to not have a single care,” Ewan says with a bitter smile, tipping his glass toward him like a scornful, mocking salute before taking another sip. “Just float through life without worrying about, you know, things like actually knowing the people you’re dating.”

It’s the last straw. You look between him and Mat, irritation simmering hot in your chest. Mat looks at you, giving a slight shake of his head, as if to say he’s fine, but you’re not fine. You turn to Ewan, leaving no room for refusal.

“Ewan, can I talk to you? Outside. Now.”

He opens his mouth, probably to argue, but when he sees your expression, his face drops, and he sets down his drink. He rises slowly, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of regret in his eyes, but he just follows you out without a word.

As you step outside into the night air, the noise of the pub falling away behind you, you feel your anger finally bubble to the surface.

“What the hell is your problem, Ewan?” you snap, your voice cracking from the raw emotion clawing at you. “What was all that in there?”

He stares at you like he’s trying to figure out what to say, his eyes flicking from the ground to your face. You can see him wrestling with himself, and it makes your blood boil even more.

“Are you really asking me that?” His voice comes out tight, like he’s barely holding it together. “What, am I supposed to sit there while he… while he puts his hands on you, looks at you like that?”

Your chest suddenly aches, and you shove past him, walking in a tight circle, trying to get the tension out of your limbs. You don’t even know why you’re still standing here, letting him say these things to you. But you can’t help but want to hear how he’s going to explain it all away. “What are you talking about, Ewan? Why should it matter to you?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” he shoots back as he steps closer, eyes dark with something you haven’t been at the receiving end of before. “Do you think I’m just going to let this happen? That I’d let you walk away with him?”

“Walk away?” you laugh bitterly. “You’re unbelievable. You pushed me away! You said we were just friends! You told me you didn’t want us to happen! And now you’re acting like you have the right to say this to me?”

His hands shake, and he clenches them into fists, eyes burning with frustration. “I was a fucking idiot, okay? I—” He stops, taking a deep breath, like he’s trying to keep it together. “I didn’t know what I wanted. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I’m not gonna lie, I was pushing you away because I was scared. Scared of what we could be, scared of screwing everything up.”

You try to pick apart his words in your mind, and no matter how you spin it, they come back with the same message. He wants you.

He wants you?

“So what?” you mumble, as if asking yourself, “now, after all this time, now you decide you want me? Now you want to admit it? You had your chance. You had so many chances.”

His face twists in pain, and for a second, you think maybe he’s finally hearing you. But then his eyes flash, and it’s like the storm inside him is rising again. “Are you just going to…move on, just like that? Pretend I don’t matter? Like I don’t know you better than anyone?”

“I’m not pretending you don’t matter. I’m not pretending anything! But I can’t just sit around and wait for you to figure your shit out. I won’t do it. I’ve been waiting for you… all this time! And I can’t do it anymore.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence as he stares at you like he’s seeing you for the first time and realising he might lose you in the same breath. He notes the way you fight back tears, your eyes glistening, the way you do when you’re pushed to the edge. You see that almost imperceptible twitch of his palms, fingers yearning for the ghost of a cigarette, the way he does when he’s on his last straw.

That pout of your lips that he adores. That clench in his jaw muscle that you want to trace with your fingertips.

You see each other, know each other like the backs of your hands. It’s a connection that has always made sense, that neither of you ever dared question it. What is left now is to finally call it what it is.

He takes another step closer.

“Then don’t.”

“Don’t… what…”

Ewan’s hands find your arms, pulling you toward him. “You don’t have to wait anymore. It’s always been you, my love. Always. I was a goddamn idiot, and now I’m losing you because I couldn’t see what was in front of me.”

“Ewan—”

“I love you.”

It feels like the ground has been yanked out from under you, like you’re falling but somehow still standing there. A thousand memories flash through your mind in that instant—the way he’d glance at you across crowded rooms, those late-night calls when he’d barely say anything, just needing you to be on the other end of the line. The way he’d pull you close in the rare quiet moments, just you and him and this unspoken thing you thought you’d made up. 

All those years of thinking you were crazy, that you were seeing things that weren’t there. He was your best friend, the one person you trusted, but somewhere along the way, he became something more, and you couldn’t make sense of it because he’d never given you anything solid to hold onto.

And now… here he is, standing in front of you, saying the one thing you’ve always wanted him to say but thought he never would. You don’t know if you want to scream at him or fall into his arms. Maybe both.

It’s too much—the ache of loving him, of wanting him, and the pain of having to hide it behind easy smiles and casual laughter. And now, he’s standing here telling you he feels the same.

“You can’t—” your voice shakes as the words spill out, your disbelief palpable. “You can’t say that. Not now, after everything. After you told me you didn’t want this, didn’t want me. I was so ready to be yours, Ewan, and you just… And then I find you with her, and—”

Ewan’s hands reach up to cradle your face tentatively, his thumb caressing your cheek. “I know, my love. But I was scared of losing you that I pushed you away. I thought it’d be easier that way. I didn’t… I didn’t think it would end up like this. I’m sorry.”

In a last ditch effort of self-preservation, to keep from falling straight down the pit of no return, into the promise of him, you offer the words that sound right. “We’ll be okay, Ewan. We always be… friends…”

“Oh fuck that, my darling.”

And before you can think further, before you can even decide what to do next, his lips crash into yours, hard and full of every unspoken feeling, every wasted year, every goddamn minute you spent wondering if he’d ever feel this way about you—gone. His kiss is fierce, filled with so much need it almost hurts. And you’re kissing him back, your hands clutching at his shirt, feeling him press you tightly against his body as if he could make up for all the times he pulled away.

But then, just as abruptly, it all comes rushing back. The weight of years of hoping crashes down on you like a wave. 

You pull back, breathless, hands pushing against his chest, and he stumbles back, his eyes wide, face flushed and full of surprise. 

“I can’t,” you whisper, barely able to look at him, your mind still buzzing from the intensity of his kiss. “I can’t do this, Ewan. Not like this. Not now.”

“But—”

“We have to head back inside. We’re both on dates, remember?”

This time, it’s you who breaks away.

tagging Ewan's angels: @darktrashsoulbear @mamawiggers1980 @feed-my-downfall @leftoverp1zza @msbyswife @katherine93 @littlehannekin18 @nurtargaryen @aemondswifeisme @barnes70stark @garden-in-the-rain @salermotatis @lina-lovebug @strangersunghoon @hydrationqueensworld @eclecticqueennerd @kckt88 @hajmola-vs-aamchaska @primroseluna @sillysillygyal @b00kw0rmsworld @raging-panda @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @aspookiepookie @peachysunrize @dreamygirli3 @callsignwidow

[theformulaimagines]

Look at that woman (breaking my heart) | part one

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Vettel!Reader

Summary: For one and a half years Lewis and y/n managed to keep their relationship a secret, until it blew up in their faces. Now, they're trying their hardest to pick up the pieces...

Warnings: age gap (reader is 27), heat!!!!, other drivers are mentioned, tiny bit of angst, english isn’t my first language

Prologue

That night…

“As much as I absolutely adore you guys.”, Y/N says as she joins the group, her lips connecting with her champagne glass:” This party is super boring.” The men all look at her, while some eyes make their way up and down her body. One more often than the others.

“Well, I don’t think it’s that-.”, poor Lando gets cut off almost immediately. “I know that this is your first party, considering how they didn’t host them during Covid, however, believe me- back in the good old days these summer parties were the main event of the year for us.”

“Don’t say it like that.”, Lewis scoffs softly, furrowing his eyebrows in distress:” ‘Good old days’, please. Don’t make it sound like we’re in our sixties now.” George giggles.

“Anyway, Lando. When my brother was an active driver, we used to steal a bunch of champagne bottles and hide out in the Ferrari garage.” Her eyes shift back to Lewis, and she stares at him for a moment:” Don’t make that face.”

“What face? I’m not making a face.”, he blinks in confusion. Y/N shakes her headc while holding her index finger up at him: “Don’t act like you weren’t the main burglar back then. Sneaking behind the bar and just handing those bottles over to me like your life depended on it.” At that, all the other drivers in the group laugh out loud. “That was the old, alcoholic me.”, Lewis explains, his eyes scanning her features- almost as if he’s searching for something he can’t quite put the finger on.

“Well, what’s stopping us from doing that again?”

“Wait what?”, Charles asks and exchanges looks with the men around him:” Are you implying we-.” “Bingo.”, she takes another sip of her drink. There’s just something about the way Lewis looks at her side profile that makes her knees weak…he has been staring a lot lately. After a few seconds, Lando is the first one to react, he nods almost violently:” Okay, well- I mean, why not? Could be fun! Lewis and Y/N, you go get the bottles, and the rest of us-? I don’t know. We just distract the others?”

Lewis nods:” Well, yeah. Sure.” He chuckles as he notices the smile emerging on his best friend’s face and the woman quickly sets her glass down on the closest table :” We’ll meet you guys at the exit in five.”

Y/N can sense his presence close behind her. She doesn’t have to turn around to check. His brown eyes are moving down her backless dress and he subconsciously wets his lips at the scenery in front of him. “What’s so funny?“, he asks, as if he knew she was silently giggling to herself.

“Oh, nothing.”, Y/N replies as they reach the bar. The y/h/ced woman quickly leans over and grabs two bottles before shoving them into his hands. Then she takes two more. “You’re still good at this, aren’t you?”, he asks, voice low. “Only when it comes to expensive things. Now, let’s hurry.”

landonorris has made a post

liked by y/nvettel, mclaren, f1 and 378,500 others

landonorris: first f1 summer party- many more to come 🥂🥂

view all comments…

user 1: 😍😍

user 2: hes so fine GOD

y/nvettel: cheers 🙂‍↕️🥂

user 3: my favorite 🤩

user 4: is it true that y/n and lewis left together

user 5: please you guys are starting to sound ridiculous they’ve been friends since forever

user 6: @/user 5 thank you!!! plus friends don’t date their friends younger siblings

user 7: @/user 6 yeah they do

mercedesamgf1: that garage sign looks familiar 👀

“I think we should head out.”, Lando lets out and yawns, pointing at the clock on the wall. 03:56 am. A soft sigh leaves Y/N's lips while she eyes how the men all get up from their spots on the floor.

“Wait, you’re all leaving?”, she asks, a hint of disappointment in her voice. “I don’t think Lewis is.”, Charles says and cracks his neck. Y/N turns her head to look at her best friend who merely shakes his head.

“Well, okay. Yeah, sleep tight you guys.”

A silence falls on the garage, as the sounds of the voices and footsteps gradually fade away. “I like your outfit, by the way.”, she suddenly declares, cringing as soon as those words leave her lips. She doesn’t understand why she’s becoming so nervous around Lewis- it’s only Lewis, right?

He chuckles:” Thanks. It’s the new collection.” Y/N's gaze falls to the glass in her hands.

“You look stunning.”, he whispers, and when their eyes meet again Y/N suddenly understands why she has been feeling so strange around him recently. “This is going to sound creepy.”, she clears her dry throat:” But I’ve read your latest Vogue interview, where you said-.”

“I like black dresses.”, he cuts her off, eyes once again roaming her body:” You’re trying to impress me?” He knows the answer already. “Well, what kind of impression are you trying to make?”

The younger woman chuckles softly:” A good one.”

“Ans you’re successful. You look unbelievable.”

There’s a line. And they both know it.

Y/N takes another sip of her drink while peeking out of the garage door and into the night sky. She shouldn’t be doing this, she really shouldn’t. Instead, she should be getting up and leaving. Walk away before she does something extremely stupid.

“Can I ask you something?”, Lewis tilts his head. “Of course, yeah. Always.”, Y/N tears her gaze off the stars and looks back at one of her brother’s oldest friends. She should leave.

“What’s your end goal here?”

”I think we both know what my end goal is.”

[awkness]

No Man is an Island

(Paternal Platonic Yandere oc & Injured Teenage Genderneutral Reader)

You and a small group of people are left stranded on an island, struggling to survive. One member of the group, Henry, has grown a paternal attachment towards you and has taken on the task of caring for you, but are his intentions truly as benevolent as they seem, or is there something much more selfish and behind them?

Content warnings: injury, plane crashes, talks car accidents, coma, and child death, and general yandere shenanigans

Authors Note: This is much more chill then what I usually write. Don't be fooled, though, this dude is still messed up lol

You were on a plane alone, flying back to see your parents when the plane begins to experience severe turbulence. The captain tries to reassure everyone that things are under control, but it only gets worse. It feels like you're in the middle of an earthquake. Oxygen masks fall from the ceiling, and you can barely put yours on before blacking out

You wake up to the sun shining in your eyes and a horrible, throbbing pain in your leg

You're near the shoreline of the beach, a canopy of tropical trees shielding you from the sun. Turning your head, you could make out the main wreckage of the plane. There's a crudely made splint on your left leg, which is swollen and covered in bruises. There are no people in sight

Panicking, you start yelling, trying to find someone, anyone to help you understand what's happening

A middle-aged, gruff looking man comes from the wreckage. He introduces himself as Henry and helps you calm down before explaining the situation to you

The plane had crashed on an unihabited island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, an unknown distance away from the mainland. All of the crew were dead, and most of the passengers were as well. The only people who survived were you, Henry, and no more than ten other people, all variously injured

None where as injured as you, though. Henry says that you had most likely broken your left fibula and tibia when the plane crashed. As the bone hadn't broke through your skin, he says that it should heal on its own, but it would take months, most of it spent on bed rest

The first few days were the roughest. You spent your time in a haze of pain and heat from the brutal and humid temperatures from the island. It was hard to make yourself eat, and you often felt like you never had enough to drink, as your group had decided to ration the fresh water and food that was scavenged from the crash

The other survivors didn't interact with you often. It wasn't on purpose, but they were too busy working to make this place temporarily habitable, and they had no time to think of an injured person who couldn't help them. Plus, you weren't much for conversation anyway, given your current state

The only person you did see regularly was Henry. He checked on you often throughout the day, acting much like your self-appointed doctor. He seemed to have a basic understanding of what medical care to provide you, though, so you weren't about to protest

His bedside manner was good as well, knowing when you were in too much pain to make conversation and when you were lucid enough to want company. He was your only source of companionship for those first few days, being the one to bring you your daily rations of airplane pretzels and coconut water and make sure you were eating.

Whether it was the pain subsiding or you simply adjusting to it, you began to pull yourself out of your pain driven stupor and started talking to Henry more, out of the pure loneliness and boredom of your situation

He was very easy to talk to despite his outwardly serious and borderline intimating disposition. As you talked to him more, you found him to be friendly and a bit corny, occasionally cracking a stupid dad joke or pulling light-hearted pranks on you. He seemed fairly competent at reading people, able to sense your loneliness, and often encouraging you to open up whenever he had the chance to talk

You didn't know if it was out of genuine interest or pity for your circumstances, but you found you couldn't refuse his company. Before you knew it, you started oversharing about your life. Within the next two weeks, he knew pretty much every major thing about you, from your family, your hobbies, where you lived, what your future goals and aspirations were, and so on

On the other hand, he seemed more reluctant to open up, often getting quiet or withdrawn when your questions got too personal, with what constituting 'personal' varying. You eventually picked up that something troubling must of happened to him in his past involving his family, so you stopped pushing, letting him bring up his past on his own time

Outside of superficial facts about him, the only thing you knew was that he was a former US Army Special Forces survival expert, which was how he knew how to treat your injury, and how he knew how to survive on the island

When you were feeling well enough, he would teach you some of survival knowledge he had, teaching you different fire starting methods, how to build a lean-to, and how to crack open a coconut to get the milk. He seemed rather anxious about watching you wield his knife, though, so he did that for you when he could

Things take a turn for the better as the group finds decent shelter that isn't the plane wreckage in the form of uninhabited caves in the heart of the island, along with a waterfall spouting drinkable water

Some are reluctant to leave the shoreline, as the group had taken to maintaining a bonfire there to hopefully signal passing planes or boats for help. A compromise was reached where they would move to the caves and would continue to maintain the fire in shifts

The trek towards the caverns was especially hard on you. The rest of the survivors had gone ahead to carry the supplies to the caverns, leaving Henry to guide you through the thick foilage and uneven terrain

Henry had given you a walking stick to aid your journey, but because of your prolonged bedrest, there were often times you had to be carried, making the journey a slow and tedious one. You apologized, but he brushed it aside, saying he didn't mind, as he often had to carry much heavier loads in the army. He then went on to tell you cherry picked stories from his time in the military to distract you until you reached the caves

He had decided that it would be best for you to sleep near him, in case you needed assistance or if there was an emergency. His reasoning seemed sound, and you were inclined to trust him after all this time, so you agreed

With this newfound stability, things finally seemed to slow down, as people weren't constantly threatened with death by starvation, dehydration, or exposure

This was also the time that the other survivors began to talk to you more regularly

It was how you learned that Henry had become the defacto leader of sorts, given he was the most qualified out of the group. People often came to you to see if he was there whenever they needed him, asking you to pass messages along to him when he wasn't there. Which was pretty often, given how he was usually the person to help gather food or scout out new parts of the island

It was after one of these outings that you began to learn more about him

It had been a rainy, stormy day, which made the groups whole mood sour. Henry was out with a small group to gather food, and you were with the rest of the survivors, hanging out in the main cave

It was easy to overhear conversations in the main cave, noise often bouncing about the walls. It's how you and the rest of the people in there were forced to listen to a heated conversation developing between two of your members

Apparently, one of the more toublesome people of your group had been caught stealing from one of the other members of the cave. Their talking turned to arguing, and the arguing became shouting, which became shoving, which was steadily growing more violent by the second

Some had tried to break up the fight while everyone else had managed to move away except you, who could only slowly hobble away

A fellow survivor was trying to usher you away when someone knocked into you, causing you to fall and hit your head on the cavern floor. You lost consciousness

When you woke, the first thing you noticed was the pain in your head, throbing like a pulse. The second was that you were back in your bed (if you could call a platform of crushed bamboo and palm leaves a bed), a blanket tucked to your chin. The third were the footsteps of Henry as he came over to kneel beside you, his face creased in thought and worry

He then went to question you on how you were feeling, if you knew who you were, if you remembered what happened, as well as checking your eyes and testing your muscles and general coordination

It was only after he was satisfied you didn't have any severe brain injury that he finally relaxed and explained what happened

After you were knocked unconscious, the fighting had stopped, and you had been taken back to your part of the cave to be taken care of as they waited for Henry and his group to arrive

The conversation then faded into silence, as you were too caught up in your pain to keep talking. You closed your eyes and laid back down

It wasn't until later that night that you finally noticed that Henry was still in the room, watching you, face blank and motionless as if he were in another world. You've never seen him look that way before

You nudge him and he startles, completely caught off guard, apologizing for worrying you

You ask him what's wrong, and instead of brushing your question off like he usually does, he hesitates before going on to speak about the family he used to have, a wife and a child, who he loved dearly. One day, they ended up in a car crash. He lived with minimal injuries, but his wife died, and his child ended up brain dead with no hope of recovery. He had kept the child on life support for months before finally pulling the plug

"When I was waiting for you to wake up, it was like I was back in the hospital, hoping beyond hope that a miracle would happen, and I would see them open their eyes again... Y'know, it's the craziest thing. While I was watching you, I kept thinking about how they would've been your age if they were still here. They would of looked just like you."

You apologize, unable to think of anything else to say. He waves it off and tells you not to mind what he said and to go to bed. He was still sitting and watching you as you fell asleep

About five months after the crash, when the group had started to lose hope of there being a rescue, someone had spotted a plane flying across the night sky

Everyone scrambled to strengthen the bonfire on the shore, yelling at the sky in a desperate attempt to be noticed

With Henry's help, you made your way to the fire as well, propping yourself up with a walking stick to keep your weight off your broken leg, waving your free arm to the sky as you joined in the shouting

But it didn't matter. The plane flew away, disappearing into the dark

Some people cried, others flew into a rage, and the rest didn't say a word. Eventually, people slowly made their way back to the caves, disheartened at their loss

After a few hours, it was just you and Henry left on the shore, the dying embers of the fire next to you as you both stared at the sky. He seemed content

You break the silence and ask him if he thinks there will ever be another opportunity for rescue

"I don't know, but I doubt it. With how long it's been, that plane probably wasn't searching for us. We probably won't see another one anytime soon."

"You don't sound too broken up about it" you say.

"I guess I'm not. If you can overlook the heat, this place ain't half bad. Fresh seafood, clean water, a built-in shelter, and 24/7 access to my own private beach. Shit, I don't even have to pay taxes anymore, either. This is the closest thing to paradise I'll ever find."

"You can't mean that, right? We can't stay here forever."

"Of course we can. We have everything we could need. Plenty of people have lived in worse places."

That's not what I mean, what about my family? I want to go home!

The mention of your family leaves him stunned, like he forgot they existed. He quickly regains his bearings and continues

"I don't mean to make you upset, kid, but I think you're misunderstanding me. I know it hurts now, but there's nothing stopping you from living a happy life here. You've got food, a roof over your head, and someone to take care of you, what more could someone ask for?"

You don't reply. Sensing your darkening mood, he offers to help walk you back, and you accept, both of you slowly making your way through the foilage in silence

You fail to notice that the fire was left unattended and how it had slowly died out, leaving the island invisible to any help that could pass by

The next morning, no one bothers to reignite the fire

Afternoon rolls around and Henry leaves, going to fish for your next meal. You pray it isn't sea cucmbers again

Someone comes up to you, asking for some cordage they had lent to Henry. Instead of waiting for him to come back, you decide to search for it yourself

You search his part of the cave and almost give up before spotting a bag hidden in a crevice of the cave. It was so well hidden, you're afraid you might lose sight of it if you turn away. What could he have in there? You're almost certain Henry wouldn't keep rope tucked so far out of sight. But you couldn't help your curiousity. You've been in here countless times, how didn't you notice this? Against your better judgment, you open the bag

You don't find the cordage

Instead, inside the small bag is the bright orange of a flare gun and several unused flare cartridges

[penultimate-step]

Thinking about it more holistically. I think my overall problem with this finale is that it keeps presenting tragic resolutions as positive things - Aqua's suicide and Ruby as untouchable idol are the big ones of course, but the rest of the cast gets a lot of this too. I think it's trying to go for a bittersweet vibe, saying that these sad things happen but things will get better, and I could respect that, but the speed-of-light pace that this was handled at means that in practice what's happening is more like they're giving us tragic scenarios and then trying to convince us that they were good all along.

A happy ending where all the main cast got to resolve their arcs would have worked, a tragic ending where nobody got the resolution they wanted would have worked, a bittersweet ending Aqua died but the living members of the cast leaned on each other to persevere and find happiness could have worked if it was given a few more chapters to breathe, but what we actually got ends up feeling like none of those.

[witchofthesouls]

Hi uh I'm taking the last few posts as indication that you've watched TF:One so do you have any thoughts? Any discussion points, anything you adored/despised and thing you'd like more context on?

I only managed to see at the last week before it was pulled out at my local theaters, but I did enjoy it.

The visuals and designs were top-notch, the movements and background settings were amazing (like hello underground cityscapes my beloved), D-16's pretty optics, Megatronus Prime never becoming the Fallen, return of the Quintessons, the Cybertronian fauna of the surface, and Sentinel's character were just chef' kiss.

In terms of complaints: it basically comes to pacing, plotholes, and personal preferences.

The movie really did show the epic bromance between D-16 and Orion Pax in short scenes with so many details, and yet D-16 to Megatron was, in my opinion, a fast-paced downward spiral. Understandable, but considering D-16 played the brakes to Orion's impulsive plans... It was jarring.

The team really put in a lot of thought into so many iconic characters, even as a cameo, but nearly all the Autobot High Command used to be Cogless? Really? Yes, there was Dr. Ratchet, but everyone else was stuck as a miner and didn't have the chance to develop all those crucial skills that were instrumental for the war against then legendary High Guard (on a side note, they didn't starve to death and had no mention of other city-states for support)? Also, where's the administration and support systems that run Iacon? Shoot, where's Sentinel's own aides, Councilmembers, and other political entities? He took down the Thirteen all by himself? No one else in the conspiracy? Really? (I'm a little low-key salty that the Primes don't have that divine flare, but that's the fantasy/horror part in me talking.)

Okay, so the personal preferences... as much as I liked the concept of Optimus and Megatron coming from the same origins, the execution on Orion Pax's part kinda flopped. It felt like it fell into the same trap with the Aligned verse's handling, where they really tried to underscore the differences but sacrificed the cohesion of the story. @lets-try-some-writing 's post on their thoughts of TFOne, particularly on Orion Pax, really resonates with me because why does he constantly sacrifice his safety to find the Matrix compared to everyone else? A similar complaint for Elita. I'm not expecting sugar and floof, but the way her character was handled left me floundering since the creators put a lot of thought on D-16's and Orion's relationship but left us hanging on a different vibe, a completely other spectrum, with Elita compared to other iterations.

Granted, it can be the Opilita shipper in me mourning, but Elita got done dirty. The 'hardass boss' would have served someone else, like Ultra Magnus, Kup, or Scrapper, if they used another 'main' character, or they could have pulled Terminus that's playing between keeping the topside goals and minimizing underground casualties. Plus, I think it could have been interesting to see Terminus being the driving force between Orion's quest and D-16's admiration for Megatronus Prime. I would move Elita into the Cogged Cybertronians and let her be Orion's partner-in-crime. Maybe as a dock worker as an ode to her G1 origins and acts as a smokescreen/voucher for Orion outside the mines, and Orion is showing her all the secret passages and knowledge she would never had access because of her own station. It could have shown so much more of that Cybertron under Sentinel's rule and the policies he implemented. Plus, I need Elita and Orion to be dumbasses together (and for D-16 to rib Orion over his crush and Chromia to do the same with Elita).

Overall, it was a solid movie. Definitely recommend it.

[ali3nboyfriend]

saw a couple comments on that one post re: people putting their salt in the main tags saying like "well it's not actually hurting you, block and move on, some people like tagging stuff like that for their blog or for blacklisting"

and like listen dude i fuckin get that. obviously yes people can block and move on. but it's not about "is it hurting you?". it's about the fact that it's rude, and it's annoying to HAVE to block a bunch of people in the tag for something, especially when those people might post stuff i otherwise might want to see? it's a Generally Understood Thing that the main tags for something are for fans of that thing.

if you wanna post salt about a character or media, and you wanna tag it, couple things you can do to be polite about it:

1) come up with your own tagging system for it. common one i see is "show: [tv show's name]", i use a similar one for my OCs, it's simple, it's easily understood, anyone that follows you can blacklist it easily and you'll prob share it in common w a few other people.

2) if you have to use the default tag and don't like making your own system, bump the tags back using filler tags. i think it's something like the first twenty tags now will show up in the search? i know it used to be ten and i'm p sure they increased it. either way, you can do this by either putting a long ramble in the tags until you're past the mark, or using slashes, like so: #/ #// #/// #////. it's not pretty but it gets the job done. boom, you're out of the main tag.

3) this one might raise some eyebrows (if someone is being... this serious about fandom stuff i will raise my eyebrows about it personally, but to each their own), you can always use a tag like.... "[tv show] critical" or "[tv show] negative" or w/e so that even if you are in the main tags people can blacklist that tag specifically. bonus points, it lets your followers block those posts also if they happen to be a fan of those things

people need to curate their own experiences, yeah, but there's a number of reasons why someone might not wanna go on a blocking spree every time they enter a character's tag. making things easier for those people only takes an extra second.

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness War of the Roses Smut

Weiss was nervous. I could tell that she was trying not to be. She even put on a pair of lacy pale blue panties and brassiere. I wasn’t sure if she was interested in giving us something to look at or just trying to reassure herself of her own body though. I’m pretty sure it didn’t work so well if it was the later of the two. She still looked on edge in the dark blue slitted dress she was wearing.

It was a first time for her in a lot of ways and to be fair I hadn’t worked out the exact mechanics that would go into play here. For example if I was getting dicked down what would she be doing? And the reverse, if she was getting some what would I get up to? I wasn’t really sure and maybe it made me a little nervous as well. But not enough to overwhelm the excitement I felt at the thought of doing it with my two best friends. 

When Weiss and I arrived at the hotel we would be staying the night in Jaune was already there. He was in the pale yellow room and out on the balcony. He was just waiting out there in the chill night. He… the goofball, he scattered rose petals on the king sized bed and lit a few candles. Weiss exhaled a shaky sigh by the doorway. I stepped inside and pulled her gently by the hand with me so that if she really wanted she could resist. She didn’t. She followed me inside and shut the door behind her. The bed was white with a brown comforter. It looked big enough for four people really. There was a brown sofa couch to one corner and a brown chair along with it. Two small end tables on which three candles total burned. There was a table at the foot of the bed where more candles were lit.

Off to one side there was a full ensuite bathroom with a standing glass shower and brown and grey mottled tiling. 

Jaune turned around our entrance and stared at the two of us. He looked good with his hair ruffling in the breeze and those little diamond studs. He wasn’t full on masculine in appearance. More of a metrosexual look wafted off of him. Which I thought was really good. I liked that he was in touch with his feminine side in a lot of ways. He wasn’t afraid of his own emotions or expressing them. He wasn’t afraid of crying in front of me out of some twisted sense of pride. I liked that openness. I liked that strength. And standing there he seemed content to wait on us to make the first move. 

He stepped in and shut the door behind him and closed the tan curtains. Without the artificial Atlas lights it grew a little dim. Weiss reached a tentative hand over and turned the light bulbs in the ceiling down low such that the bright little six candles were the only lights in the room. She breathed a sigh of relief at that like it removed some little tension from her worries. 

“So,” Jaune began with a whisper. “I’m a little confused about the specifics… I think… two people will have to go first, though. And then the other person will rotate in.”

“But who’s going to want to be the odd one out?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine it going down like that.

“Me, of course,” he returned. “Let you girls get warmed up. It’s a shade more important for you than it is for me, isn’t it? Foreplay? I mean, too much foreplay for you isn’t really a thing in my experience. Too much foreplay for me and my night is over.”

“Is that how guys work?” Weiss asked.

“Pretty much,” he answered. “I could probably go two rounds in fairly short succession. But that would be it. It would pumping in a dry well after that. I mean, I could still go down on one or both of you but the ‘main event’ so to speak would be over.”

“Are you really worried about you finishing too soon?” I asked. “That’s never been a problem for you before.”

“I’m just saying that we have all night for me to probably go two rounds. One for each of you. But after that I’m going to be exhausted. Girls don’t really have a limit that way, in my limited understanding at least. I could be wrong but if I’m like a bottle rocket, ladies are like diesel engines. Once we get you warmed up you can keep going and going and each one is closer and more intense than the last. Is that wrong?”

“Well, not really,” Weiss agreed. “That’s sort of how it works. Girls actually have two different types of orgasms. One for the clitoris and one for the 'g'-spot.”

“That… I didn’t know…” Jaune trailed. 

“The ones for the clitoris are closer and more intense as things go on but the 'g'-spot is a finisher if that makes sense,” Weiss explained.

“Huh,” I said. “I didn’t know that.”

“Really?” Weiss asked. 

“Jaune and I… when he was Jaune… he sort of did both at the same time? It was pretty good. I won’t lie. I guess he made them sync up? Is that a thing?” I asked Weiss.

“I think so…” Weiss trailed with her eyes flickering between us. “The point is that Jaune is probably right. We could go first and have him join us. Foreplay is probably more important for us than it is for him.”

“With his size… yeah…” I agreed a little. 

“Is… is it a problem?” Weiss wondered, teetering nervously.

“I mean… it can be?” I phrased. “Not with enough foreplay.”

“Right. I suppose that makes sense,” Weiss agreed.

Jaune took a seat on the couch and folded his legs. He put his arms up around the back of the couch and looked relaxed. “You girls do what comes naturally. I’ll look for my opportunity to step in. But… I’m sort of eager to watch? I mean… who wouldn’t be?” 

“Oh is that how guys work?” Weiss rolled her eyes.

“Yeah. Little bit,” he said with a smile. “Lesbian porn is the most popular category of porn on the internet. So… chop-chop.”

“Well,” I turned to Weiss. “We can take our time then.”

“Ruby…” she trailed off. I took her in her slitted dress. I wanted her out of it as soon as I saw her in it. I leaned in and kissed her once on her bottom lip. She oozed into the kiss. I stuttered back a half step and I sat down on the edge of the bed. She pursued me. I ran my hand up her milky thigh up the slit in her dress to where her panties met her hip bone. She bent down and kissed me deeply. This time she hunted for my bottom lip and she gently licked it. I opened my mouth to her. Our tongues gently breezed against one another. She pushed me down into the bed as I lifted her dress. I was in a pair of yoga tights and a ‘v’ neck. Her knee came to the head of my thighs and gently pushed into my mound.

I rolled my hips into her knee encouragingly. I got some nice friction out of it. Not anywhere close to making me finish but it was a pleasant sensation. I heard Jaune let out a low groan at the sight but I didn’t look over at him. I was staring at Weiss above me. She ran a hand under my shirt and up to my breasts. She gave my left one a gentle squeeze and caress before hunting for my nipple under my bra and finding it. 

I squeaked into her mouth and her tongue pulsed forward. It rubbed harder against mine and she went deeper with her tongue into my mouth and explored the back of my front teeth. I kept running my hand up her dress higher and higher. I smoothed over the soft skin of her stomach but I couldn’t reach her modest chest. I whined into her mouth and she grinned down at me and pulled back a little. She helped me out of my shirt. Pulling it over my head. She turned around and I unzipped the back of her dress. It fell off of her and left her exposed in those undergarments I watched her put on. They were lacy, flattering on her, and matched her blue eyes and platinum hair. 

My own bra was black and a little lacy but not as much as Weiss’s. So were my panties but I still had on black tight yoga pants. 

She pushed me down onto the bed and straddled one of my legs at the same time her knee came back to my apex. I groaned and thrust my core over her knee for some friction. She rocked her hips into my thigh as she bent low and kissed me. She cupped my right breast and started working her way around my face and down my neck with soft airy and wet kisses. She sucked on my neck hard and my hands came up to stroke her breasts and find her nipples. She squealed a little. It was a very un-Weiss-like noise but it was good and I wanted to hear more of it. 

She pushed her own mound harder into my thigh and I felt a little wetness through the lacy blue and silver fabric. That was… that was just right. It made me push my thigh and my own groin harder up into her and I let out a low moan when our action graced my clit. The little bundle of nerves pulsed excitedly. She reached behind me and pulled my bra off. Her lips traced down my collar until she took one nipple in her mouth and sucked gently. She pulled it into her teeth just enough to graze it and I whimpered and let out a little gasp. 

“Weiss…”

She rocked her hips harder and down on me at my utterance of her name. I could really feel her heat and her wetness now. I traced a hand up her thigh and to her panty line. I pushed the material aside and pressed a finger between her lips. 

She let out a low moan and thrust her hips into my finger. Huh, so that was what it was like. I mean I sort of got it from the times Jaune had thrust into my hand when I held him but I felt so powerful. She felt so delicate. My other hand came up to her left breast and traced a gentle circle around the nipple there. She sighed. It was a shaky sound like she was struggling to breath. She cupped my face in both her hands and kissed me hard. 

She rocked her hips into my finger and I brushed her clit. I rubbed up and down against it very gently because I knew how sensitive it could be. I flicked gently against her flesh and she leaned away. She twisted and pulled her bra off.

I sat up and kissed between her breasts before moving over to her left one and taking it in my mouth. Her hands returned to my face where she pulled me hard against her. I slipped my finger inside her tunnel and she moaned loudly and threw her head back. 

“Oh, Ruby…” I thrust my pelvis up into her knees a little harder and in a circular fashion more than just a vertical one. 

I pushed my finger in and out of her wetness nice and slowly. I rubbed at the interior of her velvety walls and wondered at the softness of them. Her lips seemed so delicate. She sank her fingers into my hair and I whined a little at how fiercely she touched me. She pushed me back down into the bed again. She mimicked the thrusts of my fingers with soft rolls of her pelvis.

I heard Jaune groan again. He seemed to be enjoying the show and I honestly struggled to blame him. 

Weiss pulled back and away from me. I flicked her clit harshly as she pulled away. She gasped and subconsciously thrust her hips back at me. 

She glanced at me and I looked away innocently. She kissed down my body to my pants line. She sank her fingers in and pulled my tights off me in a roll. She took my panties off at the same time and left me exposed to the chill-cool air. She spread my legs so her face was right at my mound. I felt my lips part moistly as she pushed my legs apart. She had a look of intrigue on her face as she sank a finger into me. I moaned lowly and loudly with the slow gesture. She gave me a gentle thrust all while rubbing against where she knew my 'g'-spot was. The rough patch of wet skin on the upper side flexed under her pressure and I rocked my pelvis down onto her finger harder and harder.

She thrust gently again and sofly parted my folds with a graceful ease. Then her face came forward and she gave my inner lips a low long lick and a gentle kiss. I sighed. I was biting my forefinger hard to keep from moaning loudly. She found my clit and rolled it into her mouth. I moaned and tossed my head back. My hands came down to grip her platinum locks and she groaned right into my core. 

Her finger rocked into me and found that sensitive place and started rubbing a firm circle into it. Her tongue darted out and lapped at my folds and graced a circle around my clit before she sucked on it very gently. Her tongue then rubbed hard against it.

“Ah! Weiss!” I called out. Jaune had never gone down on me before. It was an entirely soft experience that had me pushing my lips hard against Weiss’s face. She fell back and kissed the inside of my thigh and gave her finger a push. Then she kissed my outer lips and gave me a harder thrust. Then she licked from her finger all the way to my clit and gave it a gentle kiss.

Then she really went to work on me. Her tongue pressed hard into me and started tracing against my most delicate skin. Her finger thrust harder and harder into me and she rubbed at my insides with some ferocity. I let out a long and low whine that I couldn’t really stop at all and I finished around her finger and thrusted into her face. I had her by her platinum locks harshly and I panted as I came. 

“Weissss…” I felt so unbelievably wet. Sure some of it was Weiss’s spit but so much of it was also me. I tugged and Weiss’s hair. She rose up over my body. “Take them off…” I whimpered. She did. She shed the last of her clothes and crawled on top of me. I scooted down at the same time.

“Ruby…” she trailed off. I pulled her up so that the apex of her thighs was right over my face. I kissed her mound and it kissed me right back. Her hands fell to my hair and I split her folds with my hands. I kissed her interior. Then I slid my tongue inside of her tunnel. It was wet but oddly sweet. It tasted of her sweat, that’s true. There was also a more musky flavor that came with it. And of course all around me was the rich creamy flavor of her aura. Some sort of smooth custard, whipped cream, and crisp crushed ice. 

My licked her from her entrance all the way to her most northern part of her folds. I found the bud there and licked a circle around it. She moaned loudly and her fingers sank into my hair. She thrust her hips into my face with some force and I tried to meet it with my tongue.

“Ha… Ruby… a little…” I flicked even harder against her clit. “Ah! Just like that,” Weiss ordered. 

I made firm love to her sensitive bud. She rode my face into the soft mattress with hiccupping thrusts into me. 

“Ruby… you’re...I’m about to… Ha, ha…�� She fell over me such that she was on all fours with her legs spread wide and vigorously strumming down at me. Her hair fell over her rosy flushed face. Her eyes were fluttered closed and I knew she finished because I watched her entire stomach tighten and the abs there flex inwardly. 

“Ha...ha…” she panted. I flicked my tongue out again against her love bud. “Ruby!” I knew that she would be sensitive. I did it again and she flexed harder down onto my face. 

I flicked my tongue up and down her gash and sucked on her most sensitive region. I let my teeth graze it and her hips stuttered in place. Now I understood why Jaune had tormented me with his fingers whenever possible. I felt so powerful as she drove my face into the mattress. It was as though she couldn’t decide whether to pull her hips away completely or ride me harder. Her pelvis rocked back and forth quickly as I brought her to her second orgasm. Her face dropped totally into the bed above me and she pressed her hips down on my lips. Her hands fell into my crimson and black locks and she was so incredibly wet when she finished. The vague triangle of white hair above her mound itched at my nose when she fell. She just lay breathing hard into the bed.

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My legs were hanging off the bed with my legs far apart and Weiss still breathed hard over me. I heard Jaune stand up. I heard the sound of his belt jingle and his clothes hit the floor. I inhaled hard. I felt him walk over to me. His aura had been lurking in the corner of the room but it was out now and it felt like a current down my spine. The smell of ozone, spice, and torched sugar joined Weiss’s flavors. 

“I think… that’s my cue,” I heard him say.

“I need a minute…” Weiss mumbled into the sheets. She rolled off of me and lay spread eagle on the bed. Her left hand was crossed over her stomach. Her right was stretched out and still in my hair. 

Jaune laughed a little. It was a low chuckle. 

“Then you’re first if you’re ready, sweetheart.” I picked my head up and glanced down. Jaune was naked between my legs where they hung off the edge of the bed. It was tall enough that I couldn’t quite reach the floor even if I extended my toes downward. He put a hand on my right knee and lifted it up. I felt myself spread wide and heard a wet sound from myself as much as I felt it. I was soaked from Weiss’s ministrations. 

I felt him at my entrance. I could feel his heartbeat through the head of his erection. I rolled my pelvis upward to give him a good angle. His head entered me and started to stretch me. He reached out and grabbed my other leg behind the knee. Then he lifted up both my legs by the hamstring and my thighs. Just as every other time before, when he entered me, I felt like I was going to split in two and I couldn’t breath. I felt myself stretching to accommodate him and I gasped loudly into the room. He just kept going and going…

It felt like he was never going to run out of centimeters as he slowly glid into my core. I felt him hit something hard inside me before I felt him bottom out and his hips meet mine. He pushed against it firmly. I groaned and twisted my head.

It hurt so good. 

Fuck me but it hurt so good.

“J-Jaune…” I stuttered out. I almost mixed his name up. He stretched my walls to their absolute limit and I felt like they were going to tear but they never did. 

His dick was built like him. Tall but also with some girth to it that made it impossible for him to miss any part of my deepest insides. I could feel him in my belly. He slowly pulled out and I whimpered all the while. His length dragged out of me until only the tip remained inside me and gently and wetly kissing my entrance was the rest of him. He slowly slid forward. I moaned. It was a noise that grew louder and louder as he crept into me again. I thought he would stop and run out of length but he just kept going.

I felt my face flush harshly and fully. Forward faster he went for the furthest reaches of my flower. He rocked his hips into mine and once again our hips didn’t quite meet but I could feel his blond pubic hair against me.

My eyes fluttered a little as he kissed my ‘g’-spot and cervix at the same time with as much of his length inside me as he could get without shoving too hard. 

He yanked a gasp from my lips when he abruptly pulled halfway out and pushed it back in. He rubbed all of my interior walls and bumped into my furthest depths. “Jaune…” I whined. I looked up at him to see him grinning down at me. He gave me another quick halfway thrust. I choked a little. It still hurt a little but in a way that was stretching and good and so full . Gods above, I was so full of him. There was no room left for anything else. My breath kept being stolen from me and I felt like I couldn't get a good mouthful of air into my lungs because there was no room inside of me. He was so big . I couldn’t breath he was so enormous. 

He gave me a long pull out that made me whimper again. Then he provided a smooth slowly and gentle thrust that robbed me of the air in my lungs. 

I flexed my legs to try and wrap around him but he held me fast with my body spread apart and feeling like I might be divided in two. I almost sobbed. I twisted and turned my head on my neck. 

He moved my leg so my calf rested against his shoulder. I was still spread so wide for him. He then took his thumb and gently stroked my love bud. My hips jumped back onto him and made me hit my cervix onto his head. It hurt a little. But it was a feel good kind of hurt like using my muscles to exercise. And I really had no one to blame but myself. 

He pulled his length out and I held my breath and waited. He rubbed a circle into my clit as he pushed his way in and divided me once more. 

I felt my walls tighten and clench around him a little miniature orgasm. I cried out a little. It almost sounded like a sob. I had missed his body so much. He groaned and his hips stuttered a little at the sensation of my body closing around his dick. Yeah, that’s right Jaune. I had some power over you too.

He started smoothly thrusting into me for real and through multiple thrusts I let out a long quiet groan. It was dragged from my lips by his gentle thrusting and his rubbing of my little petals. I still felt like I was going to be torn apart but it was weird because he really was being gentle with me still and there wasn’t much more he could do. He was too big and I was too small. I thrust my pelvis to meet his thrusts as best as I was able with him holding me apart and in the air. 

“Ha...fwuh...fuck...Jaune...I’m going to… I’m about… Please…” I couldn’t get the words out. I bit my thumb hard. “Oh, Jaune!” I called out. 

I finished thrusting my hips back onto his length and against my cervix. He’d been roughing up me 'g'-spot at the same time he strummed my rose. He moaned my name, a low “Ruby…” as I collapsed around him and I writhed on the bed. I was still impaled by him and mostly held in place but I squirmed as best as I was able as the orgasm took me. My eyes fluttered about and I couldn’t see for a second. 

When my tears left my eyes it was still to find him between my legs. And he let them down to grab my hips but he kept thrusting.

“Oh my gods…” I managed. “Please… it’s too much…”

“Shhh,” he hushed. He bent low and kissed me and I kissed him back hard. “Just take it a little more… that’s it… that’s a good girl…”

Our aura’s flared and kissed. Petals shed like rain above us and blue wisps of flame trailed in the air. I could taste him.

I whined in time with four thrusts and I felt my eyes roll a little in my head. I felt like I was about to pass out. Jaune reached down between us where our cores met and started playing with my clit again. I almost screamed as I thrust my hips into his fingers and back away. There was no escape and my body betrayed me as it craved more than the rest of me could handle. I couldn’t get away and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. It felt so… It felt so… 

“I’m coming again,” I whispered and I almost cried. “Oh please, Jaune, I’m coming again…”

I was coming apart and all I could do was lie there and take it. He held my hips so tightly with his one hand as he stroked through my petals with the other. 

I came so hard that lights flashed and it was almost painful. Have you ever been hit by something like that? Something that felt so good it was almost a painful sensation but it never quite crossed over. I did scream and my fingernails dug into his back. I clawed at him desperately and my legs writhed. 

“Sweetheart…” he released at the same time. I felt him pulse inside me. He released one, two, three, four, five jets of hotness right into my belly. The warmth coated my insides as I felt myself unravel and become unmade and remade. 

“Ah...hah...hah... Ah... haha.” I breathed hard. I felt him soften inside me and slid out and right away I felt myself missing the sensation of him filling me so completely. But then I could breathe again and I felt myself gulp down air. I felt like I could really breathe for the first time since he entered me. My face was flushed so scarlet and all I could do was lay there as I felt him crawl off of me. 

I turned my head. Weiss was now lounging on the bed, her head was propped up by one hand and her elbow. And she was eyeing me with a bit of fascination and curiosity. 

Jaune bent down and straightened from where he was at the foot of the bed. I curled onto my side and let out a long groan. 

“Too much? Rubes?” Jaune asked.

I felt myself shake my head. 

“Just right… I think… I’m done…” I panted. 

Jaune looked down at himself. He was still partially hard but the tip was pointing down. He was… maybe five inches at the moment? I wasn’t sure. It was hard to judge how big he was at full mast based off of what I saw. I watched him reach down and give it a few pumps to try and reclaim some rigidity.

“Alright Weiss…” he breathed hard. 

“You can give yourself a minute…” Weiss murmured. “I’m still turned on at the moment. I came twice and that was quite the spectacle. I think I get what you meant about watching.”

“If I give myself a moment I might lose it,” Jaune confessed. 

“Do you-um- need a hand? Instead?” Weiss asked.

Jaune looked at her and nodded. Weiss crawled over the bed to near where Jaune was and Jaune walked over to her. She took him in one hand. Her hands looked tiny compared to even where Jaune was now. Jaune groaned. “Little hands…”

“Is that a problem?” Weiss asked.

“No, it’s sexy,” Jaune disagreed informatively. 

Weiss gave his dick an experimental pump with her right hand. Jaune moaned and thrust his hips into her palm. Weiss looked up at him and repositioned herself.

She took him into her mouth and she moaned at the taste. Tasting me, I realized. And Jaune. She took his head in and pumped the rest of his shaft with her hand. I watched Jaune’s knees jerk at the sensation. I watched his length grow harder as Weiss worked on him. 

She bobbed her head with her ponytail drifting behind her. Jaune reached out and took her platinum locks with both hands. Weiss groaned again when he tugged slightly on her hair. 

“That’s… that’s really good…” Jaune moaned and tilted his head back. His pelvis thrust a little forward as Weiss toyed with him. I realized he was holding himself back. Weiss’s free hand came forward to cup his testicles, something I had never thought of, and Jaune moaned again. “That should do it…” Jaune breathed.

Weiss removed him from her mouth. “What if I don’t want to stop?”

Jaune reached down and picked her up and repositioned her on the bed so she was laying on her back perpendicular to me and parallel to the headboard. I watched as Jaune gently manhandled her. “I’d rather not bore us and skip to the chorus.”

“You think my mouth is boring?” Weiss fired back.

“No, I enjoyed watching you use it. If you don’t want me to, you know, get to the main event, then you had better let me know real quick.”

“Or else what?”

“I’ll do the sorts of things I’ve always wanted to do to you.” Jaune positioned himself at her entrance and Weiss let out a whimper. Jaune didn’t know if that meant stop or go like he did with my noises and he hesitated.

Weiss reached her legs out and wrapped them around Jaune’s pelvis. She pulled him inwards towards her. “Won’t you, please?” She begged.

Jaune gave her this incredibly hungry look at that. It was as though he’d been starved all his life and was just now seeing food for the first time. 

He started to enter her and Weiss let out a moan. It was a womanly sound that increased in pitch as he slipped inside until it became a quiet and pathetic whimper. I knew where she was coming from with that. It was… a lot to take in.

“You alright?” Jaune asked.

“Give me… a second… it’s a bit to adjust to… you’re bigger than Ruby’s finger… by a bit,” Weiss panted out. 

“I felt you break… you’re bleeding!” Jaune said urgently. I had broken in training before Jaune entered me for the first time. Weiss must still have been preserved inside there. 

“That can happen.”

Jaune started to pull out but Weiss held him with her legs. She was breathing hard. I knew that feeling too. 

“You’re getting softer…” Weiss mumbled. 

“Well, you’re bleeding. It’s not exactly a turn on.”

‘I can’t help it.”

“I’m just… I’m concerned.”

“Don’t be. It’s fairly normal for a first time. It can happen. You can start to move now.”

Jaune tentatively rocked his hips all the way out of her. Weiss let out a longing sound at the loss. Then Jaune slowly pushed his way inside and Weiss gasped. “Oh… oh fuck…” she managed. I could stand to hear her swear like that more. “Oh, okay,” Weiss panted. “Wow.”

Jaune smoothly slipped out of her and as he did he dragged another soft noise from her lips. Weiss kept her legs wrapped around his waist but she slumped her right forearm over her eyes. She was a wonderful rosy color in the face. It was so different from her pale complexion. 

I watched her start to glow a little white. I could smell it. Cream, and, custard and crushed ice.

Jaune reached a hand down between Weiss’s legs. I knew what was coming. Weiss jumped where she was impaled on him.

“Good?” He asked. “Or bad?”

“Good,” Weiss sort of purred from the back of her throat. She was still struggling to breathe. 

He rocked his hips in and out of her and listened to her mewl beneath him. She moved her arm from over her eyes and sat herself up on her elbows. “Kiss me…” she pleaded. Jaune bent low over her. He draped one arm over her head so he wasn’t crushing her. He kissed her gently as he shifted his pelvis in another long and slow thrust which I knew from experience could be mind blowing. He played with her folds a little. She moved her hips in time with his fingers. She gasped when he entered her completely. He must have been at least kissing her cervix. “Okay. Okay,” Weiss whispered against his lips. Weiss tried to regain some composure or control but Jaune was totally in charge above her. He pulled slowly out of her body and she tilted her form in anticipation. Then I saw all the muscles on her stomach tighten as he slid inside. I watched them clench again when he flicked her bean gently. 

I saw golden lights shine around Jaune’s body. It mixed with blue wisps of flame to produce little green sparks. I’d never noticed them before if it happened with us. His body flickered like a candle light. It was caramelized sugar and pure ozone wafting off of him. 

He kissed her again and I saw his tongue slip into her mouth and pushed all the way inside her. He stretched her out and touched her in her deepest parts. I watched the muscles on his chest and stomach and legs tighten with restrained power. He wanted to rock her world. I could see that. He wanted to mindlessly thrust his way into her body. He held himself back and checked himself and slowly thrust his way into her tiny, by comparison, form. He had at least a head of height on her and was three times as broad at the shoulder. She looked petite and oh so small as she managed to consume his length. Weiss’s head fell back and she groaned. Her lips slightly parted and her eyes fluttering closed. Yeah… that was the stuff. 

She tilted her butt in time with his thrusts a little faster and yanked on him with her legs a little harder and in synchronization with the new rate she wanted him to go at. He read her and, drinking in her creamy cold aura, matched her rhythm. 

She let out a whine as he touched her insides a little faster. Her hands came up to her breasts and gripped them and rubbed circles into her nipples hard. Jaune thumbed her bud between her legs and she gasped. It was a loud breathy noise. 

“Okay… alright…” she managed. “Just… just like that…” she panted out. 

Jaune continued his more rapid assault on her opening. Quick thrust popped from their groins. Weiss moaned much louder this time. 

“Oh… that feels… that feels… ah…” she couldn’t totally get the words out. Jaune hit with three smooth, long, slow, hard thrusts and she called out. “C-c-Jaune. Oh, I’m…” she covered her flushing face with her forearm again as she took it all in. 

“Look at me,” Jaune gently commanded. “Look at me when you do or I’ll stop,”

“Oh please don’t stop,” Weiss whined.

"Look at me,” Jaune pressed.

Weiss took her arm from over her eyes. She looked him dead in the eye. “I’m about to… oh gods…” Her whole body tensed up. Every single muscle in her body clenched and she pulled him tight into her with her legs. Her fingernails came up and over him and dug into his back hard enough to leave welts behind. Her left leg was shaking at the mid thigh. She fell back and looked away from him.

Jaune rubbed at her clit at an incredible rhythm and didn’t stop his gentle thrusting. If anything he sped up a little. 

“Oh… Ah… Oh… Okay… that’s… that’s… oh no… I’m going to do it again.”

“Do it,” Jaune grunted. He thrust four smooth slow gentle thrusts all while rubbing her bud at a furious pace. He kissed her deeply and she shivered. It sounded like she screamed but it was muted by the kiss and both of their lips. Her muscles in her stomach all tightened up and clenched rapidly as she came while he impaled her.

I saw when Jaune finished inside her because he thrust in and tilted his head back in a moan they both shared. 

Weiss panted and gasped on the bed and Jaune almost collapsed on top of her but he caught himself. 

“So…” Jaune breathed. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

Weiss nodded rapidly and bit her lip beneath him. She was so red from the exertion I couldn’t believe it. She covered her face with her forearms and he rolled off her and left her legs spread wide open and her body devoured. 

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-WG

[tessarionbestgirl]

You said once Hotd lacks heart. What you mean by that?

In Game of Thrones, the main thread, the heart of it, was the Starks relationship. You liking it or not. And that doesn't necessarily make them the main characters either. But that family love for each other is what compelled a lot of people to watch it. And was the most pure thing about the show, so you connected with it, and feel their pain. And that what brought the normies to the table.

In Hotd this is supposedly to be Alicent and Rhaenyra. They even copy the blueprint of it by establishing in episode 1 their bond and from there things go south . The thing is. This relationship is not justified enough. And what I mean by that is, when you look for what they are trying to tell with this dinamic like Sarah said in recent interview, Alicent could never forget Rhaenyra or some shit like that. Because she was her best friend in their childhood. I was thinking like, why tho? Really? I doubt 🧐

They failed in my opinion to stablish this dinamic to be this powerful thread that connects the show. They don't have a cosmic connection that would challenge the very blood connections they have and question their Ideologies.

That is what they want you to believe that this friendship of years ago was so powerful that make their hearts constantly in conflict. But nothing that was show to us on those yearly episodes make me believe was that a strong connection.

Like a silly moment of Rhaenyra tearing the book for Alicent, It was supposed to be this friendship powerful moment that years later make Rhaenyra think on the possibility of throwing her claim away? Do you know how insanely ridiculous that sounds?

Keep in constant, what this moment is supposedly to be emulating. Jon giving Arya needles. That moment was so powerful for her because, of some many aspects. But one of them is because the present is deeply connected with her wants and needs and show how much Jon knows her and loves and accept her for what she is.

"Sansa can keep her sewing needles, I've got a needle of my own."

And then of course, is given by Jon before he goes to the wall. Is farewell gift, one of the few, really happy moments she had before everyone go south. And so makes sense this very weapon becomes the manifestation of these characters she lost.

"Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell's grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan's stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow's smile.”

What take a page out of a book has the same deep? What exactly represents? The freedom of acting like spoiled girls that can tear books apart and laugh about it with no consequence? Because if so, is not rooted on the relationship in it self. But freedom they had.

Every other relationship here is deeply fuck up so it can't be the heart of it. And they even take from the most pure relationship and repurposed to them to valid them. Like exemple they taking Maelor out, taking away Heleana's "Sophie's Choice" and giving to Alicent and Rhaenyra. Making Alicent ultimately choosing sacrifice her son to Rhaenyra. Something she didn't for her son when Otto himself said it was a sacrifice they need to do to save Aegon in episode 9 of the first season. And that is a wormhole of inconstancy by it self that I will not talk about here.

So that all reasons I mean by the show have no heart. Also this is enough reason to make believe the show end will suck. Because at end they will not even have that thread they stablish the show around it. So the likelihood this will fall apart at end will be big.

[joystone1217]

As scary as it is that we've only gotten breadcrumbs of lore, I doubt that the team has fully given up on lore yet.

One reason, lore still got them new fans and money, even if it wasn't a big pay off like they hoped, one of the biggest content creators for the game talks about it nonstop, having a whole week dedicated to talking about it, so it would be a very dumb move for them to just drop it all entirely.

Two, they actually have talked about lore, sure not for the new maps, but a few days before the games release, they had a reel discussing the "15 years of lore" so they still have it as a focus/part of the game. Plus the callbacks to The Just Dancers: In Your Eyes, Brezziana's boombox being all over the game, Sara's costume being in the back in the ending of Sunlight, the Wanderlust bit in Sunlight, the carrot in Sunlight rapping with Jack Rose's cane: I think that could tell us that they still acknowledge the characters and havent fully dropped their story yet. Also they recently posted about "Moments from JD2025 that live in my head rent-free" and baby Mihaly from In Your Eyes was the first pic, so if they are just dropping storymode, why post about one of the main characters?

I think the things they're focusing on right now is showing the behind the scenes of the game, the Ariana Grande collab and, most importantly, their 15th anniversary, so I feel like those are what's taking the priority rn. It's also possible with the amount of complaints that storymode "took slots in the main songlist" (or whatever bullcrap people said), they're maybe looking into make it a season event or a songpack, which would make sense given the recent introduction of songpacks.

Now do I think they should say something at this point?: Yes, cause leaving people in the dark for this long is only going to make things worse and cause more complaining, much like the whole "WHERE ARE THE PREVIEWS???" situation. Do I think their phasing out the lore?: No, as littlesiha said before it's possible other things just took priority this year or for the games release.

Keep in mind we're probably getting seasons announced soon after the anniversary playlist finishes it's run on the 19th, so we'll have to wait and see what happens. But until then, I wouldn't lose hope just yet.

Am I the only one lowkey worried that JD might have just dropped having lore entirely?

No story mode, and I don’t think we’ve even gotten any new little lore tiktoks about any of the 2025 maps yet? Dina asked about the lore of the coach she played, and they easily could’ve made up some little story, but they didn’t. They reused a lot of coaches, but didn’t give most of them any new characterization or stories.

Everything we got in the new game story-wise seems to be stuff we already knew or was probably already planned before Aroure (I think I spelled that wrong) left.

Grace and Ari in that one Ariana Grande song: Aroure already told us they were having trouble with their relationship. Their thing was probably already planned.

Payphone: People care more about that storyline than story mode because it’s iconic, so they had to give us more of them. They didn’t really continue the story though. What did we know before Payphone? Rasputin wants his girlfriend back. What do we know after Payphone? Rasputin wants his girlfriend back. That’s kind of it.

In Your Eyes and the Eva Chase thing are kind of the only really new pieces of lore we got. Even then, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was planned while Aroure was still the loremaster. Maybe they just gave us In Your Eyes to tide over the story mode freaks (it’s me, I’m the story mode freaks) while they phased out their lore era.

It’s just a theory (a game theory), but I’m wondering if the team just tried out story mode as an experiment, didn’t get the audience payoff they were hoping for, and called it quits. Maybe Aroure left because they decided lore wasn’t worth the investment and let her go, and that’s why we haven’t heard anything about a new loremaster.

Hopefully I’m wrong? It would really suck if they just decided to leave off story mode on a cliffhanger because appealing to the lore fans didn’t make them enough money. But it really wouldn’t surprise me. I know their #1 priority is making money, that’s just how business is. I just wish they’d give us a yes or no on if they plan to continue story mode so I know if I’m waiting for nothing or not.

[knightforflowers]

recently got the opportunity to make charms using some of my Ethersea art!!

I’ve ordered just these four samples for now, but if enough people were interested I’ve been entertaining the idea of opening a little shop to sell a few of them! I’m also planning on trying to make this Coriolis shaker charm I did some time ago real, ordering a standee of this piece, as well as designing a couple more additional things!!

I was initially making all of this merch just for myself bc I need objects of my blorbos to live, but since several of my friends have expressed interest in owning them, I thought I’d see how the wider ethersea nation felt abt it too!

(you can find the full art used in these charms here and here! (since the photos aren’t very good LOL they look better in person))

[psychomusic]

oc time again! + her town & culture (heavily inspired by pre-roman italic populations)

she is suri sauthon. her story is linked to my swtor imperial agent, tar'x, but most of her life except for the one year away where she meets him, is spent in a town in the mountains of mirial.

despite mirial being cold and desert, and many cities developing underground, her town flourishes thanks to a force nexus, venerated in the form of an ancient, sacred, alive crystal. the ecosystem of that mountain depended on what "the horned crystal" was capable of giving them, but mirialans couldn't live off of that alone, so they developed trade and some rudimental technology, even if oftentimes it was bought thanks to the highly profitable trade of a plant used to make medicines that slowed down aging and had overall healing properties.

note: everything that's generated by this nexus has these healing properties BUT they have to be processed, except for those who bathed in the waters of the cavity under the crystal - the "real" nexus, but not the worshipped one. the waters were sacred but they were not thought to be miraculous, unlike the crystal, who instead was thought of as the keystone of the ecosystem: without it, everything would fall apart (and that is partially true: the cavity was the "real" nexus but thanks to the crystal, also strong in the force, the properties were spread all over the mountains). those who bathed in the cavity's waters - so, all of the town, who had a sort of baptism there - could eat the plant, make whatever food with it, and not only that plant, but everything generated by the nexus, that, again, had similar properties. this allowed people to live up to normal life-spans without advanced medicines or, much, really. to those who didn't live there, though, after the processing, had incredible effects, slowing down aging - for those who took it regularly - and making people able to live up to half a century more than the average]

originally, there were four tribes of nomads that lived thanks to horned farm animals that decided to settle down into one bigger town and other smaller settlements, to live off of transhumance. this division of the tribes stayed into the political and social organization: every person belonged to one tribe specifically, and had slightly different rituals and culture. for examples, each tribe had their own priests and healers, with different techniques and traditions. the town, tho, was guided by a group of people in the high priesthood, a position you could reach only by having earned the trust of all tribes. those high priests had many roles: they guided the people into sacred processions common to all the tribes, they managed the trading with outsiders, they did the maintenance of the temple of the summit (the one that functioned as casket to the crystal) and created a special liquid to offer the crystal that helps it grow.

this particular temple was important because 1. it was very visible, from every angle of the town, and it became an important identity symbol; 2. it stored the venerated horned crystal; 3. it had the altar where sacrifices were made for the crystals. that altar had a hole connected to the cavity, that allowed the liquids to reach the underground; 4. it had various symbols: statues representing each tribe + the high priesthood, and typical mirialan tattoos carved into the wood of the trees that served as columns for the temple, symbolizing 8 values that who dared to enter HAD to have; 5. it was on the way to an important lake (called "mother lake" because the lake the town was built around to depended on the waters of that other lake) where they traveled to in important processions; 6. it was said that a the wizard who unified the tribes made it with its magic, making the plant grow to hold the temple's roof. this wizard was, actually, a force user, obv.

BACK TO HER THOUGH: she's daughter of one of the high priests, who was in charge of managing the trades with outsiders, and lives in a house on the mountains with her mother and him. her parents are from different tribes (that's one of the things that earned him trust from the 4 tribes): when a child is born from two different tribes, they don't pick one to allign to, but they're usually linked automatically to the one with more relatives in it (in her case, the father's tribe: she had many uncles and aunts on his side while her mom only had one sister).

later, though, she got quite tied to her mother's tribe due to a mysterious illness that only her mother's tribe healer was able to cure. she spent 4 years (from 10 to 14 years old) living with the healer and learned her secrets. to better study, she wrote them down. when she returned home, she studied to become a priestess with her father. at 22 (the average age: you can't become priest before your 20s), she was supposed to take a test and become a priestess, but the healer of her mother's tribe died and the tribe asked her to take her place. she couldn't technically do that, but both tribes estimated both her and her parents and she was allowed to become both. she then decided to try to become a high priestess, and became one at 25 (a quite young age). being part of the council, she tried to convince the various tribe healers to unite their knowledges and write them down, and eventually made it. healers still remained tribe based but they now had an "upper, inter-tribe level" similar to high priesthood.

years later, the sacred horned crystal is stolen from the temple by some Hutt mercenaries looking for a profit. given the trust she has earned from all the tribes and the fact that her father is the high priest that deals with outsiders (and she's been hearing stories and advice about it since she was little), she is the one tasked with getting it back. without the growing crystal, the keystone to their ecosystem, the village would have lasted only a few years. in hrr quest, she meets imperial intelligence agent tar'x laran and, as they "solve the mystery" and fight to have it back, they get closer. they'll get married and have a daughter, Vegoia (who's the only one who actually will get to the plot of my story. this was all background)

[cinemaocd]

One of the things about Wreckage is that I've been trying to pay attention to what Mark Rylance is doing when other people are talking and one of the main things he does is to look away breaking eyecontact with the speaker. When Henry is speaking it's like Thomas can barely look him in the eye esp. in the first few scenes and it isn't until he makes the comment "I sometimes wonder where you came from?" and Thomas says "Putney, Majesty" that things seem more normal between them.

In the scene with Mary, he averts his eyes because she has her cap down and then added to that the awkwardness of the hug he really can't pull away though he looks like he wants to.

In the scene with Jane though he does not break eye contact with her, he looks at her the whole time through the whole fur stroking interaction...

My own take on all of these is that they are all trying to manipulate him through their own use of their person. Henry uses his powerful size to intimidate. Crom doesn't frighten easily but there are numerous times in Season One where it's clear he's physically afraid of Henry and I'm sure those incidences are going to ramp up as Henry deteriorates.

Jane is clearly flirting in her own extremely subtle way, breaking protocol, and getting away with it out of sheer guilelessness. Her double entendre, "Do you want to kiss my ring or anything" could not have happened in Anne's court because no one would have thought Anne would have made such a verbal blunder.

Mary may be trying in her own awkward way to force an intimacy with him with the cap. Then in the next scene saying:I am bound to you...I will pray for you. If you look at it in the rules of chivalry he might have been expected to be engaged to her after seeing her hair down. Had such a thing been widely known it would have been a scandal. I think there's a moment of panic in Mark's eyes in the chapel scene when she says "I am bound to you" thinking perhaps of hand fasting, which was the common law way that many people were married outside the church. The ceremony was literally binding a rope or tie over both parties hands. But Mary seems so innocent that I think Crom just has the wrong end of the stick maybe...

There is such a strong sense of familiarity, trust and respect Mary has for Thomas. I'm specifically speaking about the scenes where she so casually, takes her hair down in front of him like he is a life long friend. Where she hugs him and breaks down, and she quite literally has to be pulled off of him. And then, when she is telling everyone how much he's helped her, and gave her her new horse.

I think it's such a contrast to what Thomas is used to working with royals, especially when it comes to royal women and hair.

I'll never forget the scene in the book, when Anne invited Thomas into her room in the middle of the night, and her hair was out, and she was simply in her night gown. That was a power play by Anne, which Thomas realized. It was showing him that to her, he was less than a person. There was no need to be modest around him because she didn't register him as anyone of note - he is even compared to her fool in that moment. Looking for the page/quote where Thomas explains it...anyway. But why cover your hair for a man you don't consider a man of note?

With Mary it's different. The lack of gable hood, the familiarity, the ability to be around her at her most vulnerable moments. In contrast to Anne, who saw him as nothing, Mary sees him as everything in these small moments. Which is why I think he was so taken aback when she embraced him. Because he isn't used to that. There is no ulterior motive. The last time he was around a royal woman with her hair down, and she was undone, it was the emphasize how little regard she had for him.

Now, when a princess does it, it's to emphasize the opposite. That she sees him as a person and she is so grateful to him.

[meamiiikiii]

kagepro day...

[shadowglens]

i do still think datv feels very … disconnected from the previous trilogy, and that parts of it don’t really Feel like dragon age to me. that being said, i’m still having a fun time