#these were really fun!!! i might do more at some point...

[formulamoons]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ when we are together

| Charles Leclerc x female reader

Content warning(s): FLUFF eventual smut 18+ mdni, mutual pinning, friends to lovers, unprotected sex, english is not my first language.

Summary- It took quite some time for you and Charles to realize that you were truly meant to be together.

word count 4.7k it's a bit long, but I swear it's worth it.

Charles Leclerc has the most captivating eyes you’ve ever seen. Sometimes, they shimmer with a beautiful shade of green, flecked with honey, and at other times, they resemble the majestic blue of Niagara Falls. Regardless of their hue, you find yourself captivated, able to admire them for hours, even days, lost in their beauty.

You first met Charles back in 2014, on a rainy Thursday night. He and his friends burst into your favorite café, shattering the serene quiet with their adolescent banter and laughter. Amid the lively chaos, Charles seemed to glow with an infectious vitality, his face perpetually adorned with a radiant grin.

Unfortunately for you, the café was unusually crowded that evening, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise when his pair of striking eyes met yours for the first time ever. "Sorry, would you mind sharing your table with us?" he asked, his voice as captivating as his gaze.

"Of course not, please sit," you heard yourself say, scooting to the corner to make room for them.

"Do you play?" one of his friends asked, displaying the Uno cards they had brought along.

"Uh, not really," you replied softly, fingers tracing the pendant of your necklace. Despite your attempt to remain composed, the sudden surge of energy around you left you feeling somewhat overwhelmed. The calm ambiance you had been enjoying was swiftly replaced by an unbridled liveliness, making you feel strangely diminutive in comparison.

"Give it a try, I swear it's super fun," he urged, his enthusiasm always infectious to everyone around. Little did you know that simple invitation marked the beginning of years where you found yourself incapable of saying no to him.

That night, you discovered that Charles Leclerc was fiercely competitive, his energy palpable as he fussed around his seat, grimacing and sighing whenever he was losing, and occasionally even letting out a scream directed at his friends—but never at you. You also realized that you both attended the same school yet had never crossed paths before. This was likely because you spent all your free time in the library, while he was always engaged in lively conversations with anyone who would listen.

Even though you hadn't actively sought out Charles's friendship, he made it his mission to befriend you. He would flash you a warm smile and wave at you in the school hallways, trailing behind you as he yapped on about karting and racing. He even accompanied you to the library (although he often ended up falling asleep, it still counted!). And on top of all that, he would walk you home after school, casually mentioning that his house was in the same direction, so he might as well accompany you.

2016

It became challenging when Charles left school to focus on his racing career. Despite this, he still crashed at your house most of the time, practically becoming a permanent fixture there. Your mom now prepared meals for five instead of four, often shooting you suggestive glances whenever Charles would praise your intelligence and express his desire to spend more time with you now that he couldn’t see you at school anymore.

Even your dad and brother had grown accustomed to his presence in your home, to the point where Charles would sometimes inadvertently spend more time with them than with you, getting caught up in their lively discussions about races airing on TV.

"You like them more, admit it," you tease, poking his cheek on a casual Friday evening while the two of you lay in the grass of your favorite park. It was the middle of spring, and he had suggested going for a run, but after the first two kilometers, your lungs and legs had given out, screaming for a break.

"I don't," he says, gently catching your wrist, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "But they let me talk about racing as long as I want," his fingers trace the delicate lines of your knuckles and veins.

"I let you talk about racing all the time, even though I don't understand half of what you're saying," you pout at him, your voice softening with affection.

It's true. Ever since you were seventeen, you've let him chatter on about racing endlessly. Even back then, when you didn't understand a single thing about it and resorted to googling terms like 'rear wing' and ' suspension' at night, you still listened intently. Because seeing his eyes light up with passion, cheeks flushed, and a wide smile on his face was worth it all. You loved watching him talk about racing.

"Fair enough, mon ange. You're my favorite, you always have been and always will be, happy?" he says teasingly, grinning at you before pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

"No," your pout deepens, and he can't help but let out a chuckle. You're adorable, he thinks

"What can I do for you to forgive me?" he asks, his gaze locking with yours. You're not sure if he's aware of the power his eyes hold over you, their deep blue hue pulling you in, inviting you to lose yourself in their depths.

"Carry me back?" you jest, reaching out to him with a mischievous grin. He laughs, but obligingly stands up and turns around, offering his back for you to climb onto.

2017

You certainly understand the meaning of "suspension" now, but you wish you never had to. If you thought Charles leaving school was tough, you never imagined the agony of not seeing him for weeks. You had grown so accustomed to his presence that now, in his absence, you feel empty, as if a piece of you is missing.

On the other hand, if someone were to ask your mom, she'd likely tell you that you're overreacting. After all, you talk to Charles every single day through every imaginable form of communication—texts, calls, emails, social media posts comments, even postcards. You name it, and the two of you have probably already covered it. She's actually impressed that you two haven't resorted to smoke signals yet.

Either way, she drives you to the airport on the day he's coming back. She stands next to Pascale, just a few steps away from where you are, surrounded by his brothers.

"Thought one of them would have confessed by now," Pascale whispers to your mom as they watch you tease Arthur alongside Lorenzo.

"I thought they’d be dating by now," your mom snorts, and Pascale joins her in a laugh.

It’s as if your body is possessed the moment, you see him step through the doors. Your legs carry you forward at full speed, drawn to the sight of his messy hair, tired eyes, and familiar hoodie. He notices you just in time, catching you in his arms, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you in place.

"Miss me that much, ange?" he teases.

"Shut up," you retort, and he falls silent, savoring the way your legs wrap around his waist and your arms encircle his neck, pulling him closer. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling deeply, letting your scent envelop his senses.

"I did miss you," he whispers into your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. "I'm signing with Sauber, but don’t overreact—I haven't even told my mom yet. I wanted you to be the first to know."

His breath brushes against your neck, and you have to summon all of your strength not to let out a squeal. Instead, you tighten your hold and whisper back to him, “So proud of you, cœur,” your feet touching the ground again. With a final smile, you release him, allowing him to reunite with his family.

2019

Ferrari's garage buzzes with precision as the final details for the Monza GP are attended to. You weave through the crowd filling the Ferrari lounge, your family already dispersed, likely exploring, and soaking in the pre-race excitement.

"Where's your mom?" you call out, raising your voice to be heard over the noise once you spot Arthur. "I haven't seen her yet, and it's about to start."

Although this isn't your first time attending a Grand Prix, it's the first with such a massive crowd. Normally, it's just you, Charles' family, and occasionally Seb's wife. You've never experienced this level of hustle and bustle before. It's a bit overwhelming, but you'll manage—for Charles.

“Didn't he tell you?" Arthur asks, puzzled, as you respond with a questioning look. "Mom’s in the grandstands. He couldn't get her a paddock pass."

"Unbelievable," you mutter under your breath. "Is he still in his driver’s room?" you ask. Arthur nods, grinning as he already anticipates what's about to happen next.

You make your way to Charles driver’s room in what you can say is the fastest walk you have achieved in your life.

“Leclerc” you say in a stern tone of voice knocking at the door of the room.

He opens the door, taking you by the wrist to pull you in before closing it behind you. He already knows why you're here, but a playful smile spreads across his face at the sight of your annoyed expression.

"Arthur is such a gossip," he says, his tone teasing. You resist the urge to slap him, recognizing that playful tone he always uses when you’re annoyed. He enjoys it—he really does. You look so cute when you're angry, with your hands on your hips and your mouth twisted in a grimace.

"You let your mom sit alone in the grandstands," you nearly scream, and he looks at you, guilt written all over his face.

"She decided to come too late," he tries to explain, already aware it won't help his case. "I was out of paddock passes by then."

"I could have given her mine," you interrupt, and he smiles adorably at you. Of course, you would have given yours to his mom. You were probably her favorite, even above her three children.

"I'm going to sit with her," you declare firmly, the smile on his face morphing into a mischievous grin as he reaches for a piece of paper from one of his drawers and hands it to you.

Charles Leclerc knows you all too well, always a step ahead, as if he can read your mind and predict your every move and decision before you even make it. It used to be unsettling, but now it's like second nature.

"Cheer for me, ange," he says, handing you the GP ticket for the seat next to his mom.

He walks you to the exit of the Ferrari motorhome, kissing your forehead before reluctantly letting you go, only after you assure him that you won’t make it to your seat on time if he doesn’t release you quickly. He stands there, watching you walk towards the paddock access, turning around to give him a small wave before disappearing from his sight.

"Is that your girlfriend?" Seb asks, observing the dreamy smile on his face.

"I wish," he murmurs wistfully.

2022

On your twenty-fifth birthday, you find yourself grappling with a quarter-life crisis like any other twenty-something human in the world. No one can say a single thing to you, whether good or bad, without potentially bringing you to tears. It's as if no words seem capable of consoling you.

So, seeing your fragile state, you decide not to celebrate your birthday this year—a decision you come to regret the day before your birthday when you attempt to arrange a small dinner with your loved ones, only to discover that they have already made plans. While you understand their commitments, it doesn't prevent you from breaking down in tears at Charles's apartment, clinging to one of his blankets as you indulge in birthday pancakes, he's prepared for you.

"Please, ange, don't cry. You're breaking my heart," he murmurs softly as he gently wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumb. "We can still plan something for tomorrow. My brothers will be free, and my mom would cancel anything for you. Your family has already said yes," he suggests, trying to lift your spirits with solutions.

"It's just not the same. My birthday is today," you whine, pushing the empty plate aside before snuggling closer to Charles's side.

"What about we celebrate just you and me? How does that sound?" he suggests, but you only bury your face further into his side. "We can go have dinner at that restaurant you love, the one with the plants hanging from the ceiling."

He senses your thoughts as your whimpers die down, and you peek one eye out from his shirt. "Can we get gelato too?"

"Yes, of course! Whatever you want, Ange," he agrees, gently removing the strands of hair that cover your face.

After catching a few episodes of Bridgerton, you head out from his place, planning to shower and get ready back at your own spot for the dinner ahead. There's a promise to reunite later, this time at your apartment.

He stands outside your door, holding a small box between his hands, playing with the corners of the envelope. It's your gift, meticulously chosen to be perfect for you, the only one that always takes him a lot of time to select. As you open the door, he admires one of his favorite dresses of yours, a stunning green shade that makes your skin glow.

You finish putting on your earrings, giving him an apologetic look for the lateness. "I just need to put perfume on, and I'll be ready."

He nods and watches you step inside your room, leaving him alone in the living room. His eyes wander over your walls adorned with pictures of you and your family, a few with friends you've made over the years. But his gaze always returns to the picture standing above your fireplace—a moment captured where he's holding you close, hand at your waist and the other at your head, bringing you in for a kiss on the cheek. You have a playful look on your face, but he remembers the joyous laughter that followed, the day he realized he was in love with you.

“Shall we go?” you ask bringing him out of his daydreams.

“Actually, I was going to ask you to open my gift first” he handles you the box his fingers brushing yours. “You need to read the paper first” he says, and you nod unfolding the paper sheet attached to the box.

He seizes the moment to admire you, your beautiful, expressive eyes focused intently on the paper while your pink, rosy lips nibble with concentration. God, he just wants to cup your face in his hands and taste them, a desire he's harbored for years now. He wonders how much longer he can resist.

"You bought me a star," you say, catching him off guard. He only nods, momentarily unable to trust his voice.

"Look inside the box," he finally manages to say, urging you to open it.

Inside the box lies a delicate silver star necklace. You take a moment to admire it before carefully lifting it out, holding it between your fingers to inspect it. That's when you notice two sets of dates engraved on the back.

"The day the star was born and its coordinates," he explains. "May I?" You nod, allowing him to fasten the necklace around your neck. His warm fingers against your skin feel comforting, and once he's finished, he takes a moment to admire how it rests against your chest.

"The reservation," you choke out, your mind foggy after being under his gaze for so long.

Of course, Charles had orchestrated a surprise birthday dinner with all your closest friends and family, despite your decision to cancel all birthday celebrations. As the evening unfolded, you found yourself stealing glances at him more and more frequently. He sat beside you, his hand resting on your thigh, and suddenly, the weight of the necklace around your neck felt heavier as the realization dawned upon you: you were in love with Charles Leclerc.

2023- December

Your friends were on the brink of insanity (more so than usual). The tension had reached new heights throughout the year, yet neither of you seemed to grasp the obvious.

Joris was tempted to dive off the yacht every time Charles not-so-subtly stole a glance at your ass, or vice versa. Meanwhile, Andrea found himself uncomfortably caught between your flirtatious gazes and the prolonged silences that followed. And as for your moms, they were simply tired of arriving at your houses only to find the two of you cuddled up together on the couch, fast asleep.

And yet, every time someone dared to ask, "Are you two more than friends?" The response was always a dismissive, "We're just friends." you brushed off any insinuation, insisting it was all normal behavior. But with each passing moment, it became increasingly evident that you were simply avoiding the truth.

God, please have mercy on them.

2024 – May, 26

After the celebrations subsided and the echoes of sobs and cheers faded into the night, you found yourselves back in Charles' home, seated beside him on the familiar comfort of his couch.

In the soft glow of a small desk lamp, the two of you sat in silence, each lost in your own thoughts. Tears stained your cheeks, remnants of the emotional rollercoaster of the day, while Charles' face was cleansed, washed free of any traces of tears.

“I won” he murmurs softly.

“You won” you echo, your voices intertwining in the quiet of the room. "Are you heading out to celebrate?" you inquire, twirling your pasta absentmindedly.

"Yeah, I think so. Do you want to come with me?" he asks, his eyes hopeful, like a puppy waiting for you to accept.

"Only because it's Monaco," you reply playfully, rising from your seat and reaching for his empty plate.

He shadows your every move, a constant presence since the day he first met you. He stands by your side as you rinse the dishes and load them into the dishwasher.

"I know you want to do it, just go for it," you encourage him. And with those words, he begins to recount every detail of his race, starting from the very beginning. He recall the morning when he woke up to breakfast with you, his mom, and his brothers, though he conveniently leaves out the part about how breathtaking you looked in just a tank top and shorts.

You lean against the kitchen island, watching him talk, and memories flood back of all the times you've been in this exact position. Charles has evolved over the years—his looks have changed, and he has matured in many ways. Yet, whenever he talks about racing with you, he reverts to being your Charles, brimming with passion and a light bright enough to illuminate the entire world.

You’re well aware this isn’t the first time you’ve noticed, but Charles Leclerc has the most captivating eyes you've ever seen. Sometimes, they shimmer with a beautiful shade of green flecked with honey; at other times, they resemble the majestic blue of Niagara Falls. Regardless of their hue, you find yourself utterly mesmerized, able to admire them for hours, even days, lost in their beauty.

He makes you feel valued, seen, safe, and adored. You must have been staring at him for a while because he looks at you with a curious expression, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You, okay?" he asks.

You can't resist anymore; you're done holding back. The next thing you know, your hands are gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards you. Rising onto the balls of your feet, you meet his lips for the first time. He tastes of champagne and chocolate, so sweet and intoxicating that it’s instantly addictive.

There's something undeniably magical about kissing Charles Leclerc. Perhaps it's because it's your first time kissing each other after a long time of yearning, but it's mostly the way he kisses you—tenderly, frigid at the edges and with such care. It transports you back to high school, where every love felt like an explosion of giggles and butterflies in your stomach.

The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to suffocate you both after you parted ways. Charles's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, his breath coming unevenly.

When you opened your eyes, you saw his cheeks flushed with a radiant pink, his eyes wide with surprise. Normally, you would have teased him for being so flustered, but a quick glance at his slightly parted lips made you cringe inwardly.

"Sorry," you offered weakly, your voice barely above a whisper as you attempted to escape the kitchen. However, his arms rested on the kitchen island, trapping you in place.

"Again," he said, almost breathless. "You caught me off guard." He swallowed hard, his nose now mere inches from yours. "I didn’t do it right. Please, let me try again."

And who are you to deny him? You lean in, pressing your lips to his once more. This time, he isn't caught off guard. He steps closer, pulling you in tightly. The tips of your noses brush together, and you feel his hands slide to the back of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly to sit you on the kitchen island. He gently opens your legs and steps between them.

You gently push him back, whispering, "Wait," as you step off the island. His eyes widen with concern.

"Did I do something wrong?" You shake your head, offering a sheepish smile.

"No, not at all," you assure him. "Let's go to your room." He follows you without hesitation.

Charles short-circuits for a moment, watching you sit down on his bed. Sensing his hesitation, you stretch out a hand, pulling him closer. As he bends in front of you, you catch his lips with yours once more. He only needs a second before he regains control, responding with fervor, his movements sure and confident.

“God, you are so pretty, I can't think straight,” he murmurs. You open your mouth to mock him, but he interrupts, parting your legs with his knees before kneeling between them.

“So pretty,” he repeats, his voice low and reverent, as he massages your bare thighs with tender, his hands slipping under your skirt hiking the material higher “fuck beautiful you are so wet” his fingers graze your soaking panties, drawing a gasp out of you, lithe fingers rubbing and pitching your clit through the thin fabric.

“Fuck” you whisper under your breath “Charles please.”  Seeing you grow purely frustrated was utterly amusing to him. The way your eyebrows curl and furrow, jaw slightly tensing.

“Tell me what you want” he commands, kissing all over your inner thighs. moving a thumb to press in between your folds against your panties.

After that his kisses got closer to where you craved him kissing at the outskirts of your panties, moving to lay the flat of his tongue against your clothed pussy just to feel you twitch under him.

“Charles please, need you to­— eat me out” you huff out in a short singular breath. He lifted his head and began to peel your panties off of you sliding them all the way down your legs using his mouth.

“Whatever you want Ange” he says in a low gruff. The moment he finally hovers his mouth over your sopping clit Charles gently strokes a thumb up and down opening you up to slowly create a single lick to make you whimper.

One taste and he was hooked, you tasted so fucking sweet on his tongue he was pushing forward tongue-first and nose- deep into you occasionally prod against your entrance. You slumped back against the bed, trying not to close your legs at him at this point.

“God, ange, you taste so good," he murmurs, his breath hot against your folds. Just when you thought your situation couldn't get any more intense, he starts speaking into your pussy proving you wrong.

The room filled with the sounds of your overzealous moans and the noises Charles tongue made, sliding his tongue between your folds, sucking and nibbling “Look at her” he breathes broken away from your cunt, watching the way you twitch for him to return his tongue to you. “How’s it feels, ange?” You stare at him mesmerized as he spit on your pussy legs squirming a bit.

“Good” you gulp nearly choking on your own saliva.

“Uhm just good?” his gaze flicks up to you. Catching you with such an expression of pure needs, His eyes hungry on yours as he tips his head to the side “talk to me pretty girl.” He’d tease, bringing a long suck towards your clit. You let off a moan once he playfully nibbles near that particular spot with his teeth.

Your lip’s part and a breathy sigh escapes you “please” your voice almost gone.

“Can’t hear you amour” he takes two fingers and presses them against your pussy lips before spreading them apart glancing down a pretty cobweb of his own spits and nice wad onto your pussy

“Please Charles” Charles gives your cunt a sweet little kiss and he feels it start to hastily pulse from it. He knew you were getting close. “don’t be mean please.”

He looks innocently at you one finger finally starting to sink deep into you watching the way your cunt greedily swallows it. He lets out some breathy little sound as he slips a second finger into you, slow against your walls sliding in and out watching the sheer coat of your taste gather along his fingers.

Your back arches up off the bed as his fingers curl upward against your walls, feeling the way you squeeze around him “Charles I am gonna..I” his fingers increase in speed looking up at you while latching his lips to your clit again.

Charles swears you are the most perfect thing to ever grace his presence- head thrown back, eyes glossy moan after moan of his name leaving your bitten lips, and pussy making the obscenest sound every time he slides his fingers in you.

“Yeah baby, there you go, you are s’close, c’mon ange give it to me” he utters softly, tongue slipping out to swirl around your clit “Lay it on me.”

His tongue darts around to the left of your clit and you’re moving your hand down to his hair to pull him closer “Cha-Cha…. too much, ah please,” you cry as your eyes meet his and you watch his pink tongue flick up and down over your clit. He’s so fucking messy and it’s driving you over the edge.

“Cum f’me- cum ange” and there you are. Gasping, sputtering as he drags the orgasm out of you. Your head tosses back, and he continues to stroke you through it. “That’s my girl you look so fuckin’ pretty messin’ my fingers.”

Hand departing from your pussy while you lay there panting, his body lifting and fingers dropping to get his pants off “Not done with you yet. I've been waiting to fuck you forever," he murmurs.

"You're going to miss the party," you gasp between heavy breaths, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“I’ll be quick” Any counterargument you might have had is swiftly cut off by Charles cock pressing in between your warm folds.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅

You arrive fashionably late at the party, almost surprised you made it at all. Charles's arm wraps snugly around your waist, his murmurs tickling your ear from time to time. Lorenzo shoots you a knowing grin from across the club, raising his glass in a silent toast, and you can't help but feel a flush of warmth spread through you.

"Finally grew the balls to confess," one of Charles's friends pats his back, and you chuckle, holding your cup between your lips.

He gazes at you in awe, taking the cup from your lips and replacing it with his own, planting a kiss on your nose before pulling away. "She kissed me first, for your information. Couldn't resist my charm," he says proudly to his friend, and you gasp indignantly.

The night ends in the blink of an eye, but as you wake up curled up in Charles's arms, you couldn't be happier. Gazing at his peaceful slumber, you admire the contours of his beautiful face, tracing each line with your finger.

"A picture would last longer," he says with a hoarse voice, eyes still closed as he pulls you closer.

"Ah, cockiness doesn't suit you, cœur," you tease, burying your face in his chest, which rumbles with a steady laugh before you both drift back to sleep.

Formulamoons, please do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend my content outside of Tumblr.

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for calling out my friend for writing RPF?

I'm in a friend group of about 5. We've known eachother for 5+ years but I'm closest with Sam because I've known them the longest. What Sam doesn't know is that when we first met I was browsing through their Twitter profile when I found a link to their AO3, it was full of RPF of two celebrities they were a fan of. At the time I thought it was kinda weird but said nothing because the fics were quite old at this point and we were both stupid teens, I didn't see it as a big deal. The AO3 stayed up (I am embarrassed to say I checked up on it occasionally out of morbid curiosity or what I don't know) but Sam never mentioned these fics around me and a few months later I saw that the account had either been deleted or renamed and all of the fics had been deleted too.

This was about seven years ago. Although Sam would still talk about these celebs they liked in our group chats (and still does) they never brought up shipping them seriously and only talked about RPF as a joke. I never brought it up all this time because I thought that they'd moved on from writing and the jokes were part of that.

However recently Sam started posting about a new thing involving IRL people. As we usually do in our friend group we were being supportive, asking them questions and letting them infodump ETC. But then one of our friends made an offhand joke about there being fic of this thing out there and Sam totally clammed up. It wasn't super noticeable but they suddenly started trying to change the subject away from it. We let it go but something didn't sit right with me, maybe because I knew about their history with this stuff, later that day I decide to check out the AO3 tag for this thing and lo and behold, there is an account that started posting roughly when Sam started talking about it. Not only that but I skimmed through some of the fics and they had very specific quirks of Sam's writing style and grammar, one of the fic titles even referenced a song by their favourite artist! This was 100% Sam's alt account.

Here's where I might be the asshole. TBQH I don't care about the RPF, I think it's weird and I would never write it myself but it's harmless. But recently Sam has been... kind of an asshole to our other friends about their own interests. We poke fun at each other all the time but recently Sam has been upsetting our friend Kai by 'jokingly' calling his current hyperfixation cringy a lot to the point Kai has privately told me he feels embarrassed infodumping about it any more. Kai is the youngest in the group and I feel really protective of him, this got me really angry. I told him I'd talk to Sam and I will but I feel like what I want to say to them is too petty and over the line.

So, WIBTA if I pointed out to Sam that they have no right calling other people's interests cringe considering what they write? They don't know I know about their AO3, it would definitely be embarrassing for them but that's the point if they think it's okay to embarrass their other friends like this.

#aita #am i the asshole

[rosedere]

The Pearl Brooch

(Yan Sea god! Azul Ashengrotto x Afab sacrifice reader)

Cw: Yandere, (actually this story is pretty tame tbh)

-

“Do you think your roommate is going to get the pearl brooch this year?” 

You stopped walking on the walking trail that led towards the end of the craggy coastline that protected your village. You didn't really know this girl, only that they’d occasionally talk to you once in a while in passing from school, and in cases like this, just randomly running into them on your walking trail.

However, it didn't mean you liked running into them.

”Probably,” you scoffed, kicking a stray rock on the path.

”She does have all the qualities the Great Sea witch wants in his Pearl brides,” you shrugged.

The girl ran a few fingers in her teal strands, combing the black streak, attempting to put her hair in a half-ponytail, half-down hairstyle.

”I would argue he doesn't,” she hummed.

You looked over at her to read her expression; she was merely looking up at the bright, sunny sky above the two of you, enjoying the clear weather that had been a welcomed surprise after the tsunamis that plagued your small village around this time of the summer.

”Okay, I'll bite; you wanna tell me who you think is going to get it this year?” You scrunched your face in annoyance.

”Not her, that's for sure,” your strange friend quickly responded.

”Come on, tell me! Let’s make a wager. I need some money and entertainment since I’ve aged out of the brooch ceremony.” You held your hands in a fist in determination, stopping in front of your strange, tall acquaintance.

She finally stopped walking beside you, smiling towards you with a glint of sincerity. Pausing in your movements, you made eye contact with her mismatched eyes.

”Im afraid to say so in case you let it get to your head,” she shrugged, “and this year is supposed to be a special year anyhow, why ruin the surprise, especially since my accuracy is always certain”.

Confused more than ever, you furrowed your brow.

”So you're saying Alaina isn't the pearl bride this year?” You scratched your head.

”That's a very bold claim to make,” you thoughtfully added.

Your friend only nodded, still walking close to you.

“Is it maybe one of the girls from the inner village—I heard our village leader's daughter has potential to be a bride” 

only silence from your teal-haired friend as she kept smiling to herself, it almost annoyed you, seeming like she wasn't listening to a word you said.

”Okay, what if it's the fisherman’s daughter! She’s got the prettiest eyes; they remind me of a babydoll!” You confidently said.

Your friend only kept walking straight, most likely ignoring your guesses.

getting annoyed at this point, whoever it might be, you decided to have a little fun with your answer.

”Oh well, guess Im going to be the pearl brooch holder,” you laughed to yourself, “I do love the ocean, so I doubt hed need to grab me from the ceremony,” you continued teasing.

Only your friend beside you stopped walking at your answer, only looking down at the rocky and gravel path you were on.

”Oops, sorry if my answer offended you." You apologized, “Im sure you are probably pretty enough to be given—“

”(name)”

You looked to your side in confusion, only seeing her with a small, coy smile on her lips.

”Just be looking out,” she mumbled.

The sea witch is always watching.

-

The next morning, you awoke not expecting much; it was a weekend, meaning you were free to go back down to the ocean down the slope where you lived.

Only as you unceremoniously stepped out the door to your small home did you feel a sharp cut straight through your bare foot.

Recoiling and grabbing your foot to make sure it wasn't bleeding was when you looked down to find the source of the cut now stinging harshly on the bottom of your foot.

You assumed at first it was one of the shells you had left a few days ago on your doorstep, only to discover that you had forgotten it when you went back inside the other day just now.

But when you picked it up to give the intricate bundle of shells a closer look, you realized it couldn't have been any shell you'd found—the way the shells were fused together created a small ornamental piece that was most likely not formed naturally.

Turning it around to look at the back made a soft jingling from where the porous shells were tied using some kind of plant you had never seen. 

But your eyes widen when they saw the small, intricate pearls tied around the shells at the bottom, creating an iridescent shine that would catch in the sun.

just like the rumored brooch would.

quickly dropping the brooch on the doorstep you looked around, You knew no one would have seen what had occurred how far you lived off the grid, but the fear of accidentally being seen and being jailed for touching the mythical brooch was not in your plans today.

You stared in awe at the brooch for a while after settling down, no one had ever seen it before unless you were the recipient. 

Limping on your way, you looked at the entrance besides the side of your connecting house. Maybe the pelican got confused and delivered it to your entrance, thinking your house was your roommate.

Your heart, which was wildly beating before now was calming down.

That's it; the pelican delivered the brooch to the wrong door.

It wouldn't be a crime to deliver it to its rightful owner now.

Bending over, you scooped the brooch up carefully, holding it in your cupped hands. Hobbling down the rocky bank around your yard, you made it to the other entrance where your roommate lived, the lively garden she had blooming to life as you passed by the different vegetation she had.

dropping it as carefully as you could on the stone entryway, you left it in the middle of her doorstep.

Without hesitation or another word, you left, going back to your journey to the sea below.

-

It was around the early evening when you went back home to make dinner that you saw the crowds around your house.

your roommate in the middle of the immense crowd, earring the brooch on her wrist as she showed all of the gawking women and children around her.

”I knew she’d be the last bride of the sea witch.”

”The sea witch must really love her if he added that many pearls to it.”

”Of course he’d pick a young maiden, it means we’ll have a fertile crop season this year.” 

You felt your heart sink a little. Despite not having any interest in being a bride, it still hurt to know you weren't as beautiful to be picked to be the protector of the village.

But despite your dull heartache, you gave congratulations to your roommate before you went inside to make your dinner.

Going about your evening, you went back out to the slope with your dinner in the hopes you could find some rare shells to sell in town.

Little did you notice the mismatched eyes blending in with the throngs of people watching you walk away towards the path to the coastline.

But nevertheless, you went through the various masses of rock and trees walking below to the different sandbanks that were revealed by the low tide. You went about your usual walk, starting from the cliffs all the way down the peninsula in search of shells.

letting your toes be soaked in the crystal blue water, you let the sea foam gather around as you sifted through the sand in search of anything new.

It was only then that you noticed that beyond the receding water was something further out in the rocky seabed besides you. At first, you could only see the darkness like a shadow in the water; small specks of luminescence filled the spot that was catching your attention.

You walked over the squishy sand in pursuit of whatever was in the water, hoping it wouldn't move.

As you approached the dark spot, it slowly began to rise from the water, eyes of a clear glacier looked back at you in the water.

After a few footsteps too close, his silted eyes focused on you, almost as if he were trying to recognize you.

The shadow in the water began to grow, making the everclear water seem inky with a different bloom of obsidans.

You backed up.

It only crept closer to you.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you ran carefully, dodging the rocky sands in the water and making it to shore.

Not daring to turn back, you climbed a lone stone wall to get to the top of the cliff.

When it felt like you were safe from whatever that thing was in the water, you turned back to the sandbar. It was not as if you could tell, however, if the creature was still in the rocky shoals. After a few hyperventilated breaths, you made the agonizing walk back through the crowded forest leading to your safe haven.

-

As the day approached for the pearl bride to be received at the festival the village threw, you were reminded of the ceremony every time you stepped out.

Either finding shipwrecked treasure or different pearls and sea glass where you had previously found the pearl brooch from a few weeks ago.

repeating the process with a dull heartache, you would grab them and return them to your roommate's doorstep before going out to fulfill your job.

After all, you were hoping the masses attending the festival would bring new revenue to you since almost everyone from the island and a few from beyond would come just to see the venus be given away.

And today you will be reminded of the event when you watched the townspeople take her away, decorated in frills and lace with adorning pearls, looking like a Venus in a shell.

You were about to walk out early in the morning to avoid the throngs of people at your roommate's door until she called out for you to be one of the few that would escort her to the ceremonial grounds. 

The sudden attention from several men and women made you agree, as you took a spot behind her besides a few of the other people holding her dress and veil.

Quietly following behind the crowd as they sang praises and songs in case the Benevolent Sea Witch could hear them as they got their bride ready.

For living in the town your whole life, though youd never witnessed one of these ceremonies, only ever being occupied looking at the different vendors and stalls of food that would come from all over the island to celebrate the Sea Witch.

As you all approached the harbor, walking down the steep and uneven cliffside you had both lived on for several years unbothered, you could begin to see the many people line the streets eagerly waiting to see a glimpse of the Venus bride, She walked with a slow gait, letting the dress pool around her slim figure, shining like fish scales with every step she took on the sandstone road leading to the harbor's mouth.

You felt bad not being able to see the importance of this festival as the people around you did, but most of your thoughts were revolving around how fast you could make it back home with the few shells you had collected for the week to try to peddle off after the bride would be received.

Suddenly, you felt yourself go off balance. Looking around your surroundings, everyone around you also followed your lead. 

The ground was shaking.

The witch was arising from the depths.

Everyone began to enthusiastically pick up the pace, holding the bride's clothes to make sure she wouldn't get dirty before meeting her betrothed.

Approaching the harbor's mouth, you could see even more people gathered there around the harbor ropes, eager to get a glimpse of the water and the bride.

Looking in the crowd, you saw your friend, her mismatched eyes accidentally meeting yours.

Your breath hitched when you saw beside her—well, what seemed to be her, the same teal hair and the same dark black stripe in her hair, They both looked at you in silent interest as you and the precession walked past her.

Deciding it wasn't worth it to think too much about it, you began to focus on the seascape before you. The aftershocks meant the sea witch was finally arising from the depths.

“She’s ready,” a villager from the front said.

You all, in unison, let go of her clothing, stopping a few meters away from the decorated area where the ceremony would take place. You could see her walk slowly and elegantly towards the ceremonial ground as you all stood in awe, watching for her to take her place.

Looking up at the sky, you noticed the clear and sunny sky seemed to waver a bit—not exactly cloudy and stormy, but the sky was turning a light gray.

A rumble shook you once again, causing you to fight to stay upright as a mass of darkness began to form in the crystal waters ahead of you.

“He’s here!”

“The Benevolent Sea Witch”

A few people began to run to the waterfront and bow in respect.

You stayed with a few other spectators, watching the bride eagerly fix her hair in anticipation.

The first thing you saw was that the dark, meaty tentacle rose from the water.

Then it was followed by six more monstrous-sized tentacles.

It was when he rose that you felt yourself gasp.

The monstrous entity looked around the crowds of people praising him.

But the sea witch did not say a word, only scanning the crowd before resting his eye on the ceremonial grounds in front of him.

A noise was made that sounded like gargling or clicking—you weren't entirely sure—before he crawled closer to the harbor, opening ever so slowly.

Your eye was caught by the huge nauctulus shell around his neck, which was shining gold.

It reminded you of the few shells you found littered around your doorstep.

His many tentacles eventually came into clearer view as he began to lift the two that you presumed acted as his second pair of arms began to slither on the sandstone towards the shell.

“My highness”

The tentacles stopped slithering.

“Im afraid your people have tried to deceive you, my highness.”

You felt someone grab both of your arms from behind. 

Wildly trying to flail out of the grasp, you soon felt them tugging you towards the monstrous being looking down straight at you.

Or who was behind you.

Your weird friend was walking before the monstrous being, who was staring with icy-slit hues.

“Your endless sea is right here.”

You flinched as they threw you down on the ground, only a few meters in front of the huge tentacles.

Too scared to look up, you only looked besides you to see your friend and her double beside and behind you. Your roommate was confused as she stood with the veil and brooch on her intricate dress.

A loud rumble resounded above you; the sky was not a dark and angry one; rain seemed imminent.

“You dare lie to me.”

A powerful timbre spoke from what seemed to be everywhere.

A tentacle began to rise and violently swipe at the harbor ropes where everyone was gathered, many people being violently tossed in either direction, some hitting into buildings while a mass of unlucky ones were thrown into the deep frigid harbor below.

“She had the brooch of our almighty.”

“The gifts were laid on their doorstep.”

“Please have mercy on our mistake.”

You were still trying to absorb the scene laid out for you in front of the harbor opening, but you failed to notice the large tentacle start to slither and writhe towards where you were being held against your will.

The cold, suctioned tentacle began to wrap around your waist, attaching to your skin.

It twitched around you before it grasped hard around your waist, causing you to yell.

“This is my bride,” the voice boomed once more.

You felt yourself being lifted from the ground, everyone around you shrinking into colorful dots as your familiar land became distant.

Little did you know this was the last time you’d seen the village you lived your whole life in.

Waves of torrential size rose from the now-dark and raging waters before they swallowed everything and everyone you knew.

Watching the punishment of a divine being was the worst thing to have witnessed.

And it was your last memory before you were engulfed in your beloved sea, and your life before being crowned the benevolent sea witch's wife and Queen of the depths.

-

Note: oh man the temptation to make this an actual fic fic haha.

also forgot but requested on Ao3 by a guest <3

#yandere twst #yandere azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x yuu #reader insert #yandere x you #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader

[magpod-confessions]

Martin is such a genuinely complex character and I love him deeply.

Because I see people talk about how his niceness was just a facade. Which is only really true to a point.

His awkwardness was a facade. He wanted to seem awkward and unassuming and nonthreatening. As a large person, I relate to this. I've been told by people my whole life that they thought I would be mean or intimidating when they first met me because I'm tall and large and loom over people. So I've always put on an extra bubbly personality when I meet new people to counteract this.

Annabelle mentions how he also used this to get what he wanted from people, which is true but doesn't make his niceness a facade.

We see his mask slip a lot in season 5. But even then he genuinely cares about people. He cares about the people suffering and wants to help them, especially when he learns about the children. Martin "Kill Bill" Blackwood may have a vengeful streak, but he's also genuinely compassionate in a lot of ways.

And a lot of what we see in season 5 of him not being as kind or placating as usual is really just him finally setting up boundaries for himself. Something that took some time and distance from interpersonal relationships for him to manage but that's important nonetheless. He asks Jon to stop making statements to him because he knows it's too much for him and he's setting a boundary. He even says "I can't be that for you". While season 1 Martin might have just held it in and let it happen, it doesn't make him less kind for expressing his needs.

I think it's important to acknowledge the parts of him that were not a facade. Making tea for his coworkers was not a facade. (It may have contributed to it but it's clearly something he actually enjoyed and wanted to do.) Wanting to end people's suffering was not a facade. Protecting people he cared about from a freaky invisible sea captain by essentially sacrificing himself to loneliness was not a facade (even if he did partially do it because he had given up). Treating people with decency and respect even when he knows they can't hear or see him was not a facade.

One thing I love so deeply about this podcast is that it is filled to the brim with complex characters, nearly all of whom are some form of morally gray. There is no black and white. There are no easy answers. There are no "good people" (I would say or bad people but I'm pretty sure there are very clearly some bad people). They're just people.

The fandom likes to latch onto pieces of a character. Things that make them more loveable or more fun. This is true of most, if not all fandoms. But the characters here just simply aren't clear cut. And I think even the critiques of fandom representation of Martin (and other characters for that matter) fail to fully recognize that.

.

#anon you are so right actually #magpod #tma #the magnus archives #magpod confession

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 48)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Triggers, Smut

Later that night...

After a few drinks and some conversation with Sean, you couldn't help but feel a little bit of a connection. It was impossible not to, as he was telling you all about his life in a way that made you feel like you had known him for years.

You did not have much in common, but he was a good listener, and you liked his company. He was slightly awkward and nerdy , but there was something very endearing about it - a rare, untouched purity that you could sense in him.

"He is cute. You should take him home," your best friend Emma whispered into your ear after she had watched you two from afar, a sly grin spreading across her face. You had initially come to the bar with her and her friends, but as the night wore on, you found yourself drawn to Sean and she picked up on this immediately.

"Shh," you told her before she introduced herself to the stranger you met and were talking to without interfering with your attempts to flirt with him. 

You had always been a little bit shy when it came to conversations with strangers, so you were surprised at how easy it was to talk to Sean. Maybe it was the alcohol that made you more confident, but you didn't think that was the only reason.

"Ask him over, have some fun. You only ever been with Cillian so this might be good for you," Emma told you while Sean was ordering another round of drinks, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

You couldn't help but feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. Emma had a point - you had never really been with anyone else besides Cillian. He had been your first and only and you needed to explore and move on, no matter how daunting it felt. 

But then, there was something about Sean that made you feel at ease. Was it his green eyes or the awkward way he smiled? Either way, you found yourself nodding in agreement and Emma squealed in delight.

"Good for you," she cheered, patting your back. You grinned sheepishly before turning back to Sean. As if sensing your gaze, he looked up from the bar and caught your eye, which is when Emma nudged you forward, urging you to take the next step.

Taking a deep breath, you made your way over to the bar, helping him with the drinks before asking him whether he wanted to go back to your house for a nightcap after you finished your beers.  

"You want me to come to your house?" he asked innocently, and you smiled coyly at him, nodding affirmatively.

"Just for a bit of fun, no promises," you told him casually, catching him of guard. "I am not after a relationship or something, just something casual," you admitted honestly, causing Sean to smile and nod awkwardly. 

"Really? You want to take me home to have some fun?"  Sean asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice as, never before, he had been picked up in a nightclub before and you could see that there was something in his eyes that was weighing him down.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry. I am not usually that direct," you  said, blushing as you looked at Sean, hoping he wasn't offended.

"No, it's okay, really," he responded, a hint of a smile on his face. "I am just a bit surprised; you know. But, of course, I am not going to reject your proposition," Sean said, his eyes shining with a mix of excitement and nervousness. There was a pause before he asked: "So, uh, where do we go?"

"We will need to get a cab. I don't live in the city centre," you told him as you both quickly finished your drinks and excused yourselves from your respective friends. 

Outside the bar, you hailed a cab and gave the driver your address. The drive was about 20 minutes, and during that time, you could feel the tension building up between you and Sean.

You stole glances at him, observing his hands fidgeting in his lap or how he occasionally looked at you before quickly looking away.

As you paid the cab driver and stepped out of the car, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension. You have never done anything like this before, bringing a stranger home for a one-night stand.

But tonight, you wanted to let loose, to experience something new and thrilling. And Sean seemed like the perfect candidate for that.

As you walked up to your front door, you tried to stifle the butterflies in your stomach, the anticipation rising as Sean followed you.

"Holy shit, do you live here by yourself?"  Sean asked, looking at the terrace building in front of him, which was located in one of Dublin's most expensive suburbs. 

"Yes, well, no. My daughter lives here too, obviously, but she is with her father for the night," you told him  , unlocking the door and stepping inside. You glanced back at Sean, who looked impressed by the high-end decor.

"Fuck that's a nice place," he commented, taking in the modern furniture and designer touches scattered throughout the living room. "Didn't you say you were a student?" he asked, looking around the living room.

"Yes, that's right," you responded, slightly amused by his reaction to your house.

"But you live here all by yourself with your daughter?" Sean asked, furrowing his brow.

"Yes," you explained, fighting the urge to feel self-conscious about your arrangement with Cillian, which was something you did not want to delve into.

"Wow," he said, his eyes wide as he took in the opulent surroundings.

"Come on, let's go into the living room," you suggested. As you walked into the room, you motioned for Sean to take a seat on the plush sofa while you poured yourself a glass of wine from the open bottle on the coffee table. "Do you like wine?" you asked, turning to Sean.

"Uhm, not really," he replied, hesitantly. "But I am not really thirsty." 

You chuckled at his response, thinking to yourself that you might have to introduce him to the wonderful world of wine at a later date. But, for now, the only thing on your mind was getting close to him.

You sat down next to him on the sofa, taking a sip of your wine and watching as he nervously fidgeted in his seat.

"So, uhm, should I, uhm, kiss you or something" Sean asked, suddenly biting his bottom lip, as if realizing how forward he was being.

You chuckled at his nerves, reaching out to brush your fingers gently against his cheek before pulling him close to you. 

"Yes, I think that might be a good idea," you whispered, your lips hovering just above his.

Sean hesitated for a moment before he leaned forward the rest of the way, capturing your lips in a soft kiss.

Unlike Cillian though, who was the only man you had ever kissed before now, Sean was not experienced. He was a little clumsy even and shy, as if he was overthinking every little movement he made. But, at the same time, there was a sweetness to his kiss that made you feel special.

"Do you want me to take off my dress?" you asked him, already starting to undo the zipper on the back before standing up and letting it fall to the ground, leaving you in nothing but a black lingerie piece which was conveniently covering the scar on your stomach. 

"Holy shit ," Sean muttered, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw you standing in front of him, completely naked except for the lingerie. "You are hot," he said, a hint of awe in his voice.

You felt yourself blushing slightly, embarrassed by his praise. But, at the same time, you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at his reaction. You had put a lot of effort into your appearance, taking extra care with your hair and makeup before leaving the house. It was nice to know that it had paid off.

"Thank you," you smirked before straddling him. You then began to unbutton  his shirt, revealing a muscular physique underneath.

As he laid back against the couch, you started kissing his neck and 

shoulder, tracing patterns with your tongue and fingertips. A faint tremor ran through his body, and a quiet moan escaped Sean's lips.

"You are so hard already," you  whispered, impressed by his response. You guided his hands to your breasts, encouraging him to touch you. He hesitated briefly before his fingers gently cupped your curves.

"Do you like that?" he asked, looking into your eyes, seeking approval.

"Yes, don't stop. Keep touching me," you urged, biting your lower lip as you leaned in to kiss him again. The room was filled with the sound of heavy breathing and soft moans as you moved against each other.

Sean's hands were roaming all over your body, exploring every inch of your skin as he traced his fingers along your curves. His touch was gentle yet passionate.

"Let's go upstairs, to my bedroom," you  whispered in his ear, feeling his heartbeat quicken as you spoke the words.

He nodded, and you stood up, offering your hand to him, pulling him to his feet.

You led him upstairs to your bedroom, which was neatly decorated in soft colors, featuring elegant furniture pieces and a huge king-size bed in the center.

The room was dimly lit, and you immediately pulled Sean towards you for a kiss before unbuckling his belt.

"Let me see you," you told him as you unzipped  his pants, encouraging him to take off the rest of his clothes while you stood there, watching him, admiring his muscular shoulders and slender hips.

As he slid out of his jeans and took off his already open shirt, you couldn't help but feel a little shiver of excitement. He was toned, and there was something very attractive about his physique, even though you weren't particularly drawn to muscly men.

"You are so sculpted," you whispered appreciatively, running your fingers along his defined chest and abs.

"I am trying to be,"  he said, smiling bashfully. "I work out a lot."

You chuckled at his response, leaning in to kiss him again.

"Take off your briefs," you urged him, reaching down to unhook your bra for him. You let it slip off your shoulders and down your arms, your breasts spilling free.

Sean's breathing hitched as he looked at you, taking in the sight of your bare chest. You could sense the anticipation building between both of you, and you felt butterflies in your stomach as Sean tentatively reached out to touch you.

His touch was hesitant at first, but it quickly became more confident as he explored your body with his hands. The feel of his fingers softly brushing against your skin was incredibly arousing, and you moaned softly in response.

Eventually, he pushed down his briefs as you had requested, and you sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of his arousal. 

He was only the second man you had ever seen like this before, but this did not deter you , and somehow, it made the whole experience even more exciting.

Sinking to your knees, you  took him in your hand and then leaned in to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss at the tip of his arousal. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, watching as his mouth dropped open in surprise and a deep groan rumbled from his chest at the contact.

Emboldened, you continued to tease him, licking and sucking at the tip before taking him further into your mouth, your head bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm until, suddenly, he stopped you.

"I can't. I won't last if you keep doing that," Sean gasped, gritting his teeth after as a little as a minute of you teasing him .

You smirked at his response, slowly pulling back and standing up to face him. "I take it you like that?" you asked, raising an eyebrow and biting your lower lip as you took in the sight of him.

He nodded, unable to speak, his breathing heavy and ragged. You could tell that he was close to losing control, and you felt a thrill of excitement at the realization.

Without warning, you pushed him back onto the bed, climbing on top of him as you continued to explore his body with your hands.

You could feel his arousal growing harder under you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of power at the effect you had on him.

"God, you're so gorgeous," Sean murmured, reaching up to brush a lock of hair away from your face. His fingers lightly traced the curves of your jaw, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch, closing your eyes for a moment as you savored the sensation.

"I want you," you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear and Sean nodded awkwardly.

"Okay, but maybe I should, you know, kiss you first down there ?" he asked nervously, his hands hesitating just above your hips, and you realized that he was struggling to contain himself.

"If you want to, sure," you nodded before wiggling out of your panties, tossing them to the side. As you both lay there, staring at each other, the silence in the room became heavy.

"You seem nervous," you finally broke the silence, your body trembling slightly.

"I am a little, but I want to make this special for you," Sean answered, stroking your thigh gently.

Your eyes locked on his green ones, becoming lost in their depths as he spoke. A faint smile touched your lips as you felt his hand drift lower, finally landing on the wetness between your legs.

"God, you're so wet," he murmured, his voice husky with arousal as his fingers began to explore the slickness and instinctively, you arched your back, urging him to go further.

Sean seemed to understand your unspoken request, and without hesitation, he gently eased a finger inside you. Your inner walls tightened around him, welcoming the intrusion as he began to move his finger in and out with a steady rhythm.

He then trailed kisses down your body until he reached the wetness between your legs with his mouth, teasing you with the tip of his tongue, but somehow missing your clit.

You tried to stifle your disappointment, lifting your hips towards him, encouraging his tongue to find its way but, again, he seemed to be overthinking and, after a frustrating amount of awkward furtive kisses and explorations, he sluggishly pressed his face against your heat.

You tried to adjust your position, trying to gain the friction you needed, but his movements were too slow and deliberate, almost robotic and you knew you had to put an end to this soon.

You had to think about how to fake an orgasm, and so you decided to close your eyes and pretend to arch your back involuntarily, letting out a moan to make it seem like you were getting close to climaxing.

"Oh fuck," you moaned, trying to make it sound believable, giving Sean an Oscar worthy performance of pure ecstasy.

"I am coming, that's it," you whispered, clenching your fists as you faked it - keeping your body tensed and eyes shut tight, while making your breath sound labored. 

Sean seemed relieved and thrilled with himself as he pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand while giving you a proud look and you opened your eyes, smiling at him contently, thinking that, surely, the main act would be much more pleasurable than that. 

"Do you, uhm, have a condom?" he  asked, his eyes wide with a mix of arousal and uncertainty.

You nodded, still reeling from the intensity of your performance as you reached into the bedside table drawer, pulling out a condom.

Sean took it from you, tearing open the package with his teeth before rolling it down over his erection.

He then positioned himself above you, his green eyes meeting yours as he gently pushed inside.

You gasped at the sudden intrusion, but you quickly adapted to the feeling of him inside of you.

"You feel so tight," Sean murmured, his eyes glazing over with pleasure as he began to rock his hips against yours.

You wrapped your legs around Sean's hips, pulling him closer as the sensations built inside of you.

He was different from Cillian, almost too gentle and measured, but you tried your best to enjoy the experience regardless.

"Harder," you urged, arching your hips against him, hoping to get a reaction.

Sean hesitated but, after a brief moment of doubt, he increased his pace, driving deeper into you with every thrust.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he groaned, his voice low and strained with pleasure.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the feeling of him inside you, trying to forget about the fact that you had to fake an orgasm earlier.

You moaned, encouraging him to keep going, but it felt  like something was missing. The sensations building inside of you were nothing like when you were with Cillian and it was difficult to match the feeling to the one you knew so well.

"Don't stop," you urged, wrapping your legs around Sean's hips, pulling him closer to you, hoping that the friction would be enough to bring you to the edge, but it didn't.

"Let me go on top," you suggested, feeling a rush of disappointment, but unsure of what else to do. "I want to ride you, please," you told him and the sheer mention of it excited him.

He carefully pulled out and moved aside, then you climbed on top of him.

You reached down and guided him back inside of you, letting out a low moan at the feeling of him filling you up once again.

Rocking your hips, you began to move against him, quickly finding a rhythm that was pleasurable but, before you could force yourself to orgasm, he lost control.  An explosion of ecstasy washed over his features as he jerked, gripping your waist tightly before his muscles weakened, collapsing against the bed. You stopped moving and indulged in the sight of him as he spent himself.

"Oh my god, I can't believe that just happened," he managed to stutter between gasps, collapsing against the bed. You giggled indulgently, stroking his damp hair as he lay there in recovery, amused by his reaction after his proclamation of wanting to make the experience special for you.

"Listen, it's fine, really. It was fun," you told him softly, brushing a strand of hair out of his face as you spoke. "Despite, you already made me cum, and I can't usually cum more than once, so it was great, really," you lied  , hoping he wouldn't catch on.

Sean nodded, still panting slightly as he caught his breath. He looked relaxed and contented as he gazed up at you, but there was something in his eyes that made you think he knew the truth, despite your attempt to cover it up.

"You know I could go again in an hour or so, make it up to you," he offered, stroking your thigh lovingly.

"I think that we should get some sleep and revisit this in the morning instead," you suggested, slowly pulling away from him.

You stood up, grabbing your discarded clothes from the floor before walking into the en-suite bathroom to clean yourself up.

When you finally emerged from the room, Sean was already fast asleep, his body sprawled out on top of the bedsheets, looking even more handsome and at peace than he had before.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, feeling a pang of guilt for having to fake your orgasm earlier. You had never done that before, and it had felt like a betrayal. But, at the same time, you had been too embarrassed to say anything, too afraid of hurting Sean's feelings.

Quietly, you made your way to the kitchen, seeking solace in a cup of hot tea. You sat there for what seemed like an eternity, lost in your thoughts as you tried to make sense of what had happened before, eventually, joining Sean in bed.

As the minutes ticked by, your eyelids grew heavy, and you eventually succumbed to the darkness.

When you woke up a few hours later, the gentle sunlight was streaming through the cracks in the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room.

Sean was still fast asleep, but you couldn't stay in bed much longer and made your way to the bathroom to have a shower.

The water felt refreshing on your skin as you stood under the showerhead, letting it wash over you, away from the lingering smell of sex.

As you stepped out of the shower, you wrapped a towel around your body and took a moment to catch your breath. For a fleeting second, you wished that Cillian was here instead of Sean, but quickly suppressed the thoughts and turned your attention to the task at hand.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you walked quietly back into the bedroom but found that Sean had gone, but his pants hadn't. They were still lying on the bedroom floor.

You then heard some voices coming from downstairs and when realized that it was Cillian talking to Sean, you heart sank.

Minutes earlier...

Hearing the doorbell ring, not once, but twice, Sean was woken up from a deep slumber. Rubbing his eyes and yawning, he climbed out of bed, now clad only in his boxers, looking for you. 

"Y/N?" he called out as the doorbell rang again, growing a little more frantic as Sean kept on looking for you upstairs. 

When he realized that you were in the shower, he decided to walk downstairs to answer the door.

When he opened the door slightly so that he could poke his head out without revealing his half-naked body, Seam saw a familiar looking person standing there on the doorstep.

"Holy shit," Sean muttered, rubbing his eyes again, wondering whether he was still dreaming. "You look like the dude from that movie, Oppenheimer," he said tentatively, not realizing that he had already said it aloud while Cillian pulled open the door further, fixing the younger man with a stern look.

"Excuse me?" he asked, his eyebrow arching high up on his forehead as he looked Sean up and down with a critical eye. 

"Uh, yeah, you know, the actor from that movie about the atomic bomb that won a shit ton of Oscars this year?" Sean replied lamely, not quite sure why he had said that.

"Yeah, that is me," Cillian said, his face expressing puzzlement. "But who the fuck are you?"  Cillian asked, his voice clipped and impatient.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy

[ashipiko]

ASHI - BIRTHDAY JACKET VIGNETTE 🌺

(PART 1 - 2.7)

ASHI: Hmhm~ A bday Interview, huh? It looked super funsies when everyone else did it, so I’m hyped!

ASHI: I’m guessing since we’re in the Pomedorms… A Pom? But who, exactly…

ASHI: (Ahaha, as nice as Rook and Vil are, I might end up feeling the pressure a little. It’d be an honor, obvs, but #stressful…!)

ASHI: (O Magical Birthday Dice, please have mercy…!)

???: Oi, Ashi!

EPEL: Happy Birthday! You weren’t expecting me, were you?

ASHI: Waugh?! Eppy! Hahaha, what a pleasant surprise!

ASHI: I’m so stoked you’re my interviewer! Who knew I’d get so lucky?

EPEL: No need to flatter me, you know. Thank you for having me.

ASHI: Pssh, why’re you acting so uptight, Eppy? It’s just me! I like your lingo and stuff.

EPEL: I’d love to, but… We’re still in the Pomefiore dorms, you know. I never know if Vil is lurking around or not…

ASHI: Ahh, fair point. Bummer. Maybe next time!

EPEL: Ehe, maybe. Anyway, here’s my birthday present to you. I hope you enjoy.

ASHI: Only one way to find out!

ASHI: Whoa… This is so cute?! And so fluffy…! I needed something to keep me warm at Ramshackle!

ASHI: There’s even little fox ears on it! And it’s my favorite color! Eppy…!

EPEL: I told my Granny about your birthday coming up, and since she enjoyed your company so much during Harveston…

EPEL: She asked for some things that you like and stirred this up. If anything, you should be giving the thanks to her.

ASHI: I thank the entire Felmier fam! It’s so cute, I’m gonna cry…! I’m about to wear this right now!

EPEL: You’re a summer baby, Ashi! Watch out for the heat…

EPEL: And I still have a new stock of apple cider coming in too, from my family’s farm. Your presents don’t just end there, heh.

ASHI: More?! I still haven’t finished the last one you gave me…

ASHI: No sweat! We’ll just plan another hangout at Ramshackle and chug ‘em all down together~.

EPEL: Unless Ace gets jealous and barges in again. That darn simp can’t get enough of ya.

ASHI: Hehe. Maybe I should make a no-Ace sign for next time, to put on Ramshackle’s dorm. Thoughts?

EPEL: I’ll help ya make it!

EPEL: O-Oh right, the interview. Maybe it was a little bit of a mistake pairing us up together, we keep on chatting…

ASHI: Nono! This is a Eppy W, DW!

EPEL: If you say so. First question…

EPEL: If you could take any person with you to a deserted island, who would it be? I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t take one of the ghosts or Grim, but it can’t be someone from your dorm.

ASHI: Grimmy’s great! But for survival… Ehh…

ASHI: NGL, a deserted island sounds kinda scaries, as much as I love the beach. Like yeah, I’d love to hang, but survival? Hecks naw!

EPEL: Sounds about right. You’re really like a princess.

ASHI: Mhm! If I really wanted to, I could probably get to the basics by myself if I tried. But do I wanna? No.

ASHI: It’d probably be a good idea to get paired with someone who knows what they’re doing, y’know? At the very least, I can depend on them!

EPEL: So someone who can take care of you? Leona, maybe? Since he already babies you… Alternatively, I don’t really think Ace would be the best choice, no offense.

ASHI: None taken. He deserves it. But nope! This is a fun scenario, right? I might as well go out with a bang, or someone I can have fun with.

ASHI: So, I say Floyd!

EPEL: Floyd?!

ASHI: Aye aye, cap’n! You get it, don’tcha? He’s so tall and could get all the coconuts! I think we’d have a lot of fun, too.

EPEL: I know you work at Monstro Lounge, but aren’t you scared of him still? He’s a little unpredictable, so he clashes with you.

ASHI: Well, that’s what makes him fun, right? I guess it’s all depending on his mood…

ASHI: One time we accidentally totally crashed Monstro Lounge ‘cause he freaked me out, hehe. It’s a little scary when you’re doing a closing shift and all you hear is a tiny “shriiiimpy~” in the distance.

ASHI: My fear of the dark TOTALLY kicked in then. I never screamed so loud in my entire life!

EPEL: I can imagine… Sharp teeth, glowy eyes and all.

ASHI: I tried getting back at him once too, when I blended some shiitake mushrooms into his milkshake.

ASHI: …I don’t think I’ve ever even ran that fast before, TBH.

EPEL: Ashi, this isn’t really helping your case, if I’m being honest… You’re making it sound like he’d eat you by the time someone saved you two.

ASHI: W-Well! On the other hand, he’s got that eel form that we can rely on too! If we get bored, we can just zoom on out and crash Azul’s place or something, y’know?

EPEL: I guess I see your point. Being a merman must means he could help a lot on an island…

ASHI: Yup, yup! Anyway, I think we’re good enough buds where I’m 97% sure he wouldn’t eat me!~

EPEL: Heh, classic Ashi. I guess in a way you really did think it through, even if it sounded odd at first.

ASHI: Of coursies! ♪

EPEL: Okay, about time for our next question.

EPEL: If you were to transfer to a different dorm, which would you pick?

ASHI: Oh, a good one! I think I’ve kinda cheated with my Ramshackle prefect rights, hehe. I’m a little bit of a dorm-hopper.

ASHI: But a permanently different dorm…~ I think about it sometimes.

EPEL: Really? Which dorms?

EPEL: I think I could see you fitting in Heartslabyul, since you’re pretty good at sticking to the rules. Riddle likes you a lot too, more than he likes Ace, at least.

ASHI: Oho? Tell me more, Eppy!

EPEL: Um… I think Scarabia could fit you too. You and Kalim are sort of one and the same, don’t you see it?

ASHI: I see whatchu mean!

EPEL: Yeah. I couldn’t ever see you in anything like Savanaclaw, Ignihyde, or Diasomnia, though.

EPEL: You don’t really have an athletic, competitive, or magic drive… Ignihyde is a whole can of worms.

EPEL: I don’t think you could stand a day in that dorm, with the dark, creepy skeletons everywhere.

ASHI: Waugh… Don’t remind me, Eppy!

EPEL: Not to mention, the housewarden. As soon as you see him in person, I think the Headmaster would have to get called over for medical issues—

ASHI: Hey hey! No need to out me like that…!

EPEL: Heh, sorry Ashi. Was I right, at least?

ASHI: Hmm… yeah! Not right on the nose, though.

ASHI: I think that if I were to be in a dorm… I’d pick Pomefiore.

EPEL: I didn’t really consider it, but I could see it now that you say it. The uniform would fit you, I think.

ASHI: Yeah! And we’d get to be twinsies!

ASHI: Ashi-Eppy, the Birthday swapped duo! 5/6 and 6/5! ☆

EPEL: Heheh. You’d definitely be a shine of sunlight in here. It would be fun to hang out with you at Pomefiore.

EPEL: But you don’t use makeup, don’t you? That’d be a sure-fire way to stand out.

ASHI: Yeah, that’s be the only downside…

ASHI: And the food, right?! It looks so… appetizer-core. Defo not up my alley, I couldn’t imagine…

ASHI: But Vil and Rook are cool! At least at Pomefiore, I know there’s people that can help accommodate me and make sure I’m happy and healthy!

ASHI: Maybe instead of a potato, I can became a French fry… Sounds kinda banger, don’t you think?

EPEL: You make a funny argument.

ASHI: Life at Ramshackle can get kinda stressful, you know! I love the ghosts and all, but it’s scary sometimes…

ASHI: Grimmy thinks it’s funny to prank me, and he’ll just graze over my legs as I’m sleeping, and it’s so freaky!

ASHI: Dunno, man… It’d be nice to see him get some karma and have to keep it all up-tight at Pomefiore.

ASHI: But I guess at the end of the day, the thing that I’m missing at my dorm is the constant hustle and bustle.

EPEL: People would kill for that, you know.

ASHI: Also true~.

ASHI: Well, there’s no silence you can’t fix with a simple hangout! I can always count on you to make Ramshackle a little more lively, right Eppy?

EPEL: That’s right! The Ashi— Eh… Eppy duo can reign at Ramshackle!

ASHI: Darn right, hahaha!

-

CARD: UNLOCKED!

GROOVY: [LOCKED]

#twstshi #ashi’s birthday campaign! 🌺 #epel felmier #twst epel #twst #twst yuu #twst oc #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland yuu #twisted wonderland oc

[nordickies]

What's your opinion on rusfin? And the time Finland spent in Russian empire

While I don't really vibe with "Russia/Soviet State" ships in general (RusAme, RusFra, RoChu, etc. are more of my thing), I don't really have strong feelings about RusFin one way or another. It's not quite as unbalanced or overused as some other Russia ships, I feel like? Plus, like I stated earlier, I kind of like the idea of Russia being disinterested in romance, at least in the traditional sense. I personally don't have an interest in exploring them as a serious couple in my writing; I just can't see them ever working out. They'd become too toxic at some point and it wouldn't be fun anymore. And I think they have enough to deal with each other even without romance getting involved

And I'll be honest: I have never focused on Russia's character, and I'm always a bit lost on what I'd like to do with him. How would I characterize him? I think all hws characters should be allowed to have nuance and let be individuals at the end of the day. So, I don't think Ivan is the manifestation of all the evil things in the world. To me, he's an extremely flawed person who is easy to blame and villainize. For many of the characters, he embodies the worst memories and moments of their lives. Surely this is the case for Finland, too, which makes their friendship extremely complicated.

I think Fin is quite naive at the end of the day and always tries to see the good in people. He values mutual trust more than anything, which can be an admirable trait but also makes him prone to ignoring warning signs. Fin, in his youth at least, was rather easily led, and he unsuspectingly followed others and their orders, counting on them to have his back no matter what. While his trustiness can backfire at times, with Russia, it might have been the right approach. Because right away, Fin managed to build trust with him and Ivan, being calm and respectful, expecting them to handle this new situation in a professional manner. Perhaps Ivan is used to people being terrified around him, giving his paranoia reason to doubt their loyalty. But he never had that problem with Finland, and they got along surprisingly well.

Historical context: When Finland was seized by the Russian Empire in 1809, the Grand Duchy got a pretty good deal in exchange for the Estates swearing loyalty to the Russian Tsar; Finland would remain an autonomous region in the Russian Empire, and it got to keep its Swedish constitution, laws, language, religion, and even the right to keep the taxes it collected for itself. Finns were also exempted from the Russian military. The reason why Finns got such a good deal came down to Tsar Alexander I wanting to avoid excessive fighting during the Napoleonic Wars (he only seized Finland to pressure the King of Sweden in the embargo against England to begin with). By making a good enough offer, the Finns, who had been getting tired of the Swedish monarchy's growing incompetence and turmoil, wouldn't fight back. Also, the Tsar was interested in westernizing his Empire, so Finland's western state structure was perfect for that. Finland's and Tsars' relationship was rather special in the Empire, and Finns were viewed as exceptionally loyal and cooperative by the state. Finns had an easier time remaining loyal to the Tsar due to their freedoms and autonomy status, which they sought to protect by subjecting. For example, Tsar Nicholas I abolished various autonomies and freedoms in his Empire during his reign; except in Finland. This was partly due to Finnish soldiers' voluntary participation in crushing the November Uprising in 1830. When the Tsar's officials criticized Finland's independent status in 1850, Nicholas had allegedly said: "Leave the Finns alone. Finland is my large Empire's only province that has not caused me a minute of worry or dismay during my reign." Nicholas was not the only Tsar who viewed Finland so positively. Most Tsars had a summer house in Finland, and many of them wrote about their time in Finland being some of the most serene they have ever felt. For example, in 1891, Tsar Alexander III shocked his court by deciding to travel through Finland via train instead of by boat. When the court opposed this idea, calling it unsafe, the Tsar called their worries nonsense, stating "I have never needed any guards in Finland."

During his time in the Empire, Finland tried his best to get along with Russia, never provoking him and more so trying to keep attention away from himself, just so he didn't accidentally upset him. Like the aforementioned references tell us, I think Ivan actually trusted Finny and felt comfortable giving him more responsibilities, which inevitably let Fin get closer to him. And while Fin was aware of Russia's flaws and his own privileged position, he surely was also grateful for the freedoms that he had been granted. As bad as it must have felt, he had more possibilities there than he did with Sweden.

Finland probably had his own place, and he was free to come and go as he pleased. He was allowed to join Russia's events and meetings, probably as some kind of assistant, which was crucial for Finland to learn how their job operated and all the responsibilities that came with it. Traveling around Europe from event to event also meant Finny could build his first diplomatic relations with other nations he had never even met before - and even put his own name out there to begin with. It was all new and exciting to him, which in return made him want to keep up the positive relationship

However, Russia's clear favoritism toward Finland would not go unnoticed, and I think that could create some unfair gossip at Finland's expense. People probably think Russia is never nice or does anything good without wanting to gain something from it, so Finland must have done something really special to get his position. Without a doubt, this would sour Finland's relationship with some other people around the house who wouldn't respect his "bootlicking" and respect for Ivan. In the worst case, Finland didn't even know such rumors were spreading about him initially, leading to confusing encounters. I doubt Russia had any intention of clearing such rumors. After all, he didn't suffer from such gossip himself; more than anything, he could use it to his advantage. Whenever he wanted to annoy his old enemy Sweden, all he had to do was wrap his arm around Finland or move him closer - Innocent enough for Fin to not consider it too weird but powerful enough to upset Swe, who couldn't do anything about it. I also think Ivan would try to manipulate Fin's thoughts and insecurities just like anyone else's, being one of the tactics to keep people dependent and loyal to him. He'd feed misinformed ideas to Finland about his past, painting Swe in a worse light than he actually was.

I can really only talk from Finland's point of view, but I doubt Finland himself would have had romantic feelings toward Ivan. I think he saw their relationship as purely beneficial, something to better his own status after living in someone else's shadow for centuries. But he still respected Ivan, at least in the beginning, and believed they could work it out as friends. But I could also see Finny being prepared to act passive to Ivan's potential advances - at least to a certain point, if it meant a more favorable position for himself. Finny can be more cunning than people give him credit for. So even if something had happened between them, I doubt it was genuine, at least on his part. But again, I really don't know if Ivan would even care or try anything.

But in the end, their mutual respect wouldn't last forever. There's no way Finland's and Russia's relationship didn't crumple during the Russification period from the 1890s onwards. Finny most likely lost a lot of his previous freedoms, and he wasn't going to accept it, becoming uncooperative and dishonest. Due to this, Ivan quickly lost his trust in Fin as well, treating him like everyone else around the house. Unfortunately for Ivan, by letting Finny get so close to him in the beginning, it had opened Finland the opportunity to learn all of his tricks. By having had so much freedom and experience in nationwork, Finny was ready to seek his independence as soon as possible, when the moment was just right.

I could always write more, but maybe this is a good overview of their situation during the Empire years specifically. The decades after Finland's independence have been their own rollercoaster entirely. Also, I think personifications' relations are way more complicated than drawing one-to-one comparisons between real-life emperors and people, but here the emperors' favoritism just somehow works for their characters? Anyway, I just really don't know where I'd like to take Russia's character, so I can only write from Finland's point of view here. You can come to your own conclusions and ideas, I suppose!

#hws finland #hws russia #headcanons #rusfin #my art #anyway i need to start adding fin next to normal fucking people because i swear he's not that short

[sparxaf]

Tried S9 or whatever

I didn't want to play. I just wanted to see what the MC options were because it's fun to build an MC. So I built this one with kind of stupid space bun hair because all the hair is stupid and looks wrong, like the volume of the hair is too small for the size of the head and the head looks too small for the width of the shoulders. And oh my god why did the locs look so bad? Fusebox has done locs successfully before, so I know they know how! What even is this? Every season it gets worse and worse with them paywalling all the protective hair options, and then having the audacity to give so little fucks about making them look decent (I will admit, I liked the mermaid braids last season though). As a woman of color it's just infuriating. But yeah, after building an MC that I liked, it was 92 gems. 92. If you buy the 140 gem package in the US for $9.99, that means it would cost $6.56 before the game even started. What? Just to be pied off by characters I never liked to start with? I shut the game down without buying a single thing or even making it past the creation process. I can spend less on an overpriced tea latte from Starbucks that will give me much more joy.

I know I say I'm done every season and then I get sucked in because my fandom friends beg me to play, but I really do think I might be done with this one. I'm just beyond uninterested. Their bait and switch "All-Stars" BS already set my teeth on edge, and I hate the "stars" they've brought back. I've seen the possible list of returning characters and there isn't a single one I care enough about to entice me to play. I love Marshall but if he comes back as a host, I don't care. It won't be canon to me. And if he comes back as a returning islander, I don't care because it won't be canon to me. There is such a fundamental disconnect in Fusebox's understanding of what people want. I'm just fucking tired. The seasons are coming so fast and furious that the fandom can't even get on its feet and enjoy what happened. I keep having to go back to the fandom wiki to even remember what happened in the previous seasons because they're just blurring together in my mind. There's no time to discuss it or theorize or come up with fun fanon. To make mood boards and character boards dedicated to what kind of house they'd live in. There's no time to craft a long fic for the season that just ended unless you start it at the beginning of the season before events even happen. It's just sucked out all the joy. Which maybe, might be the point? Throw them at us so fast, we play hard, and don't have time to think about it or criticize it or come up with ways to make it better. Consume it like a rice cake. Flavorless and forgettable. And I say this as someone who actually rather enjoyed last season, until it got stupid repetitive, with what felt like zero branching.

I dunno. I'm just not having fun. For those who are having a good time, or at least enjoying the chaos and train wreckage, I'm so glad. I look forward to hearing about it because I know I will 😆 For me, I'm gonna be focusing more on finishing TSIME and then working on some original fiction. And maybe some Romance Club fanfic, if the mood strikes me. Because the world building, branching, storytelling, and sexy love interests (even when I hate them) are delicious and immersive. NGL it's expensive, but RC is more generous with their gem rushes and tea parties and whatnot so I don't feel ripped off.

I mean look at this man. If I have to spend my hard earned money on something other than tea lattes from Starbucks, I'm spending it on him.

#not enough fomo in the world to make me graft Hamish #love island the game #litg all stars #litg s9 #fusebooo #romance club #romance club amen #amen scn

[sea-buns]

Holy fuck, man. What a trip Fearne has been on, huh?

You tell her how grateful you are to have her in your life, you flatter her, you tell her you need her, that you have to do this together. You have her make a promise that has this woman, born of chaos and fey, agreeing through shaking hands and a trembling voice.

You make her deceive your friends; you make her follow where they cannot know; you make her help you into this contraption; you make her feed this thing into you despite the fact that you both have been warned extensively of the risks. You make her watch you crumble and splinter and shatter and fracture and burst and implode. You make her watch you die, over and over and over and over, for a minute in agonizing bullet time.

You make her do all these things, because when she tries to back out, when she tries to not be the one who let you do this—how could you do this—

you tell her, "YOU PROMISED."

Because if there's one thing you know, it's that the fey do not break a promise.

#cant wait for her to fucking pissed for a very long time. shes really packing the entire human experience in a very short period of time. #critical role #cr spoilers #c3e77 #fearne calloway #ashton greymoore #bells hells #just gonna get ahead of the um actually mfs and state that i am aware that its not confirmed that thats why ash brought up the promise #but boy howdy would it make for some great drama down the line huh? #edit: apparently i did not get ahead enough cuz ive had to turn off replies #since ppl were somehow interpreting this mini introspection piece as me infantilizing fearne?? #anyway the first line is now changed to something a bit more neutral. after sleeping on it i do see how it was a bit aggressive at the top #other than that im not sure how else to reword without completely disregarding the core of the post #i might make more posts addressing this but im not sure yet. i wanna try to approach it in the best way possible. #but if it helps any the point of the post was not to say fearne had no agency. she had plenty of moments where she tilted one way or the #other. the POINT was to just shine some light on the emotional pressure she had been put under. #hasnt your friend ever asked you to keep a secret or promise that felt wrong or unsafe or made you anxious? #it has nothing to do with the amount of agency she had. ash wasnt holding a knife to her throat and forcing her to follow against her will #all i was trying to do was take this detail about his reminder of the promise that i thought was interesting and have some fun writing an #overview of the kinda stress she was under BEFORE theyd reached that scene. this entire ep was everyone discussing how grateful they were #for this family theyd made. and while im not saying ash was PURPOSELY emotionally manipulating fearne.. #there is a level of unintentional manipulation when you pair the severity of his request with the convo theyd had 2 seconds prior #as well as the desperate need they all have to save each other NO MATTER WHAT. #ash was giving incredibly strong energy of a friend who peer pressures you into helping them do something that you know in your gut WILL #cause problems. hes a fucked up guy. theyre all fucked up guys. even if he didnt mean to “force” her into anything the pressure was THERE. #<- i feel like all of this overall gets my message across. i think maybe ill clean it up later into its own post. #im gonna try not to rush myself to get it done tho. #im under no obligation to explain myself. especially when ppl approach the misunderstanding by being rude af. but i do think it CAN #be clarified so id at least like to try to some degree

[icewindandboringhorror]

I have found a beautiful perfect humble rock specimen that is light yellow with a weird dark yellowy brown lining, somewhat resembling a chunk of smoked gouda cheese... effervescent

#I am still very into trash collecting at the moment and even went out and got one of those grabby sticks for cheap and a little #bucket I can carry around and put trash in. so I am going on walks in nature a bit more (not really to enjoy nature but more to play the #very fun Real Life Hidden Object Point And Click Game that is 'hunt for bottle caps and cans' .. but eh.. whatever gets me out of the #house lol).. anyway.. some nature places near water will have cool rocks #Which I know you're not supposed to take them and I MOSTLY dont.. but every once in a while it's like... when else will I ever find a #gouda rock... I have cleaned up 4 buckets of trash today.. I have helped the environment.. mayhaps.. i could take a One Single Rocke as a #treate... ANYWAY. but yeah. I don't know the names of rocks but there's a rock that's a matte muted marigold yellow sort of #color and I call them 'cheese rock'. I'm pretty sure this one is of the 'cheese rock' species but it just has weird brown coloration #like maybe it got stained or something on one side of it. Most of the other cheese rocks have no markings. though sometimes there will be a #auburn reddish sort of hue on a corner or something.. hrmm.. curious. I also got a Beginner's Hobby rock tumbler and some supplies #so I might try polishing some of the rocks from my enormous rock collection. even though they're all street rocks I picked up from sidewalk #and stuff. I saw a video where someone put random gravel and stuff in a rock tumbler and none of them were Stunning Gems or whatver #but some still turned out cool enough that I would be pleased with the result... OUgh.. I want to post more I need to like do costumes and #sculptures and stuff and be Active On Social Media and think about my Future and Career and how it always benefits artists to keep an #active social media or etc. but I just feel so tired and bad lately. I think the summer heat waves have really exhausted me. I also have #been trying to make new friends + on a weird schedule so I've been socializing and also watching media too much. I notice I always start #to feel this kind of unsettled stress of not making any forward progress in my life if I do that for too long. like 'Okay this week I've #done nothing but meet up with two friends & watch like 10 episodes of tv and only worked on a few projects on the side.. this is HORRIBLE!' #(ppl who follow me here that I talk to on discord: this isn't about you! Im specifically just referencing being tired of introductory talks #with a new round of random strangers during my Friend Hunt. Just clarifying so it couldn't be misinterpreted as vaguepost implying that I'm #secretly bothered by talking to you or etc. lol.. anyway) . Which I know to MOST people 'I talked to a lot of friends and watched some cool #stuff!' sounds like a GOOD relaxing time but.. to me it is not ghhj.. Those are 'external' focuses on things outside myself which bothers #me if not moderated. Like.. i MUST retreat internally to work on my worldbuilding and my own thoughts and etc. at very regular intervals or #it will really start to bear on me too much. Brain Mandated Hermit Isolation lol. Just being too detached from my world and stuff for #too long feels increasingly bad. PLUS. every day I don't make tangible progress towards my goals is a day wasted that I could have been #investing in my future by working on novels/games/sculptures/actual career relevant stuff. Not even in a Capitalism way i just genuinely #enjoy Completing Tasks & feel miserable if I don't for too long. EVEN the media I'm watching I turn into A Task since I rank in a detailed #google doc list after viewing lol.. Like EW movie too boring on it's own. NEED to turn it into something I can categorize and analyze ghghj #LOVE to make things more complicated than they need to be. like YAAAY organizational tasks! yaay meticulous sorting!! BOO ''mindless fun''!

[magentagalaxies]

going to a comedy open mic tomorrow mostly to watch my friends (it's at a cool venue that my improv troupe performs at once a month and a few improv troupe friends are doing standup there) but when these friends were asking if i'd be interested in coming they were like "btw there's usually a ton of open spots on show days if YOU want to do something... and they're not strict about it only being standup either, people have done character pieces and sketches etc like they embrace the weirdness... and they're not strict about time limits you could probably do anything between three and eight minutes... sometimes if there's not enough people signed up they'll even let you go twice..." and i'm like god damn it i thought i was gonna take a break from aubrey but this setup is like tailor made for an aubrey appearance lmao

#still on the fence about it bc the burnout i experienced at the beginning of may extended to aubrey #especially bc so much of my aubrey stuff is comedy about gender and my brain was more in ''set everything on fire'' mode #and i think i've gotten to a good place with that burnout but i still haven't worked on any aubrey stuff since i got home from college #but even still even tho my mental health is better than it was a few weeks ago #recently i have had this horrible insomnia where i haven't been able to fall asleep at night in over a week #(i've made up for it with naps but still i am not mentally 100% rn. i've tried so many things and nothing has worked.) #so that's my justification for *not* doing aubrey tomorrow. however. #i reeeally need to get more performance experience bc there's only so much you can develop a sketch character without performing them #and this venue is so good. it's an art gallery like an hour away that's designed to be part gallery and part performance venue #especially for comedy. like the venue owner is this veteran comedian who used to work with bobcat goldthwait and a lot of other big names #and it's a low-pressure environment bc everyone there has seen me do comedy before with my improv troupe #but they still haven't seen me do aubrey at all so it's bringing a new side of my comedy to some of my main collaborators #like this is so much better than my previous aubrey performances bc they were all either #1. shows in CLASSROOMS with a bunch of my classmates who generally don't get my comedy (very clique-ish) #or 2. a guest spot on a show at a coffee shop where everyone knew each other except me #plus the biggest thing for me is the lack of a strict time limit. like as much as having a good 3-minute monologue can be #i think aubrey is a character you need to get to know a bit longer than 3 minutes. and a lot of my stuff is long while also being very tigh #like not every monologue is like this but my best aubrey monologues are almost like aubrey is telling you a sitcom storyline #and removing too many lines makes the whole narrative jenga tower fall over #and as much as i want to figure out how to make every monologue a good starting point #having the chance to perform multiple monologues if i get to go twice so that they can build off each other would be perfect #idk i'm not sure how often the open mics are there. at least monthly tho i might be missing next month's depending on when i'm in toronto #so like this wouldn't really be my only chance. but yeah i'm on the fence about whether to bring aubrey back for a performance tomorrow #i probably wouldn't do new material. i'd do the 5 minute version of my uncle reg monologue bc it's the one that's worked best so far #and if i get to do multiple. maybe i'd do the ''nom de plum'' monologue bc i think it's also very strong #and it has a good callback to uncle reg #but idk i also think doing the song would be very fun and on-theme since it's pride month and the song is a satire of rainbow capitalism #tho i'd probably have to rework the monologue that leads into the song bc even tho i loved the concept i don't think i articulated it well #or i could write an entirely different lead-in and make the previous monologue (''C/H/M'') a separate thing to revise later #which would probably go better and somehow be less work to write. but even so i don't know what the venue's sound setup is

[whatudottu]

Something about Altered Loyalties CYLAS just really makes me want to include him in the first place but also makes me really really REALLY think that with the more supernatural elements of AL based off of the original TFP pilot (or just first episode/s?) that CYLAS as a ‘dead man walking’ would actually let him stay around longer AND also be a very significant contributing factor to Megatron’s downfall in Decepticon favour!

Of course it’s not as if I have the pieces of the TFP rewrite au firmly put into place, CYLAS in canon shows up just over halfway into season 2, and many of my most established changes occur in the first like… including all the parts of ‘Darkness Rising’ 8 episodes of season one; I have no idea if the environment CYLAS presents himself in is the same one canon CYLAS does.

But with the dubiousity between s1 e8 all the way to s2 e19, I’ll establish the basic context… I think in story mode maybe…

Looking at the general timeline for the Aligned Continuity, it says that the first contact of cybertronians on Earth is dated to about 500 years before the show, give or take a decade. I’ve been listing Skyquake’s little EHP pitstop to have existed at least 50 years before the war reached our planet, but what if I pushed it all the way back to 500; if a vorn is 83 years, that’d be about 6 years on an entirely different planet not knowing truly if your twin is going to make it, a planet which by the way presently has no established radio systems that it’s horrifically quiet for a terrestrial environment.

That means that Skyquake’s EHP Comms Array has been transmitting a signal long before humans had developed radio, which also means that what might’ve been blatantly an anomaly in the system if discovered 50 odd years previous to 2012 (which would’ve been in the 60s give or take which would not have been good in the literal middle of the cold war era) has been going for centuries because it had always been there, there is no anomaly because it is a signal that has existed ever since humans were able to manipulate radiowaves into sending messages and translate them into detectable noise. It helps that cybertronian language and code (both code lang and like literal programming code) is a system unknown to humans developing their own language.

And you may be asking, why did I divert this post from talking about CYLAS and how he’d outlast his canon alternate to radio shit? Well, if you were a paramilitary organisation who is pretty good at erasing signals and you discovered a signal that has been actively running for the entirety of human radio has suddenly been silenced, what would you begin to suspect at that?

Aliens may potentially be a stretch but MECH didn’t just name themselves after the cybertronians fighting war on their planet, and once the cybertronian conflict touched down on Earth, the Decepticons hadn’t a need for an intergalactic communications array and in fact was specifically instructed to switch it off in an effort to prevent the Autobots from using it. That would’ve been about maybe 6 years ago for the show (wow just enough equivalent time to match what Skyquake felt he spent grounded to one radio tower look at that) and though MECH would not encounter their first cybertronian until ‘Convoy’ (haha wait that’s s1 e9 the next ep to cover - if necessary - for Altered Loyalties lmao), they would’ve had 6 years to find that missing signal and stumble across some very definitely alien technology.

That is one of the reasons why the rewrite of ‘Masters and Students’ which is less masters and students focused - rather the point is Skyquake, a team of Nemesis stationed vehcions and Starscream investigate the comms array and set it up manually - why the radio tower wasn’t switching on from a remote position.

The other reason was because the Guardian unit stationed at the comms array - the very ones that had accompanied Skyquake all those stellar cycles ago - had gone missing. Why?

Because of Megatron’s flagrant use of Dark Energon.

Points 1 and 2 listed above leads to the explosion of the comms array, the death of Skyquake, and MECH either being alerted to the point of alien contact or just in general going to the site for more study only to find a dead specimen. After the discovery of the Autobots with the body of Skyquake, MECH begins their initial study and dissection of cybertronian physiology, though without a live subject they couldn’t exactly see what parts function in what way, especially the t-cog.

The discovery of Skyquake led to the discovery of terrorcons which lead to the discovery of how to take down a cybertron and how to take it apart without it screaming. MECH would learn the programming of a cybertronian through vehicon terrorcons since, even with DE corruption, their processors are still somewhat being maintained. While probably not able to access memories (they are fickle things, memory centres, easy to damage storage or to corrupt files) there are still systems responsible for pain and other more processor based responsibilities that aren’t centred in a physical organ that reads in fine print it’s function.

Breakdown being MECH’s first fully functional living mecha for their study is so exciting for them (even if Breakdown is very much less enthused) because they can put what knowledge they’ve pieced together to be far more efficient with their time and focus on the elements they could not decipher from either corpse or zombie and potentially try and prod at Breakdown’s brain for some cohesive coding. Good think Bulkhead still shows up when he does even with Breakdown walking away with the dreadful thought of ‘how the hell do these fleshies already know so much’ boring into his head… mainly through the optic that was still drilled out-

Whether or not MECH needs to get another living cybertronian to get caught up in their understanding of the biomechanics of them (aka would 'Operation: Bumblebee' take place as it does) or they skip right onto making a remote control Prime having gotten a headstart on their knowledge and scaring the scrap out of any bot unlucky enough to be unconscious around them, eventually Silas gets smooshed and MECH scientists are reliant on their alien dissections to get the human puree back to the land of the living.

I'd assume that this was the case in the original since if Silas' biomatter was able to be collected from a pile of robot drone induced rubble the RC truck would've been able to be recovered as well, but MECH discovers that using Nemesis Prime as a lifesupport system does not work given all it's functionality is focused on visually replicating another cybertronian, rather than using it to create life. There's a lot of parts and systems to a cybertronian's biological ecology that wasn't put into consideration for a mimic toy that prove detrimental to creating a suitable ah... skin suit essentially for Silas' blood pudding, but MECH has an abundance of corpses ready and raring to be used just so long as they piece them back together again.

Amid MECH's collection would no doubt be a mass of vehicon bodies - some untouched by energon others taken down explicitly by MECH because they were terrorcons - some terrorcons made up from the bodies of the previous conflict pre-show (and not just a hypothetical ancient war, but explicitly the conflict that culled a lot of Autobot and Decepticon officers amid the show expected vehicon death), and the very first cybertronian sample they started studying, Skyquake himself! Being at the origin of the blast at the EHP Comms Array he wasn't kept in perfect condition for one, the arm he loses as a terrorcon in the Shadowzone is still lost - it's been buried under rubble after being severed with radio tower pieces - and the monochromatic glass over his optics has long since been shattered so you can see the 'pupil' aka sensor, but seeing as how CYLAS makes Breakdown's corpse somehow look worse than what Airachnid left it as MECH probably has to suture that fucker back up because there's not way his organs have been left untouched!

And once CYLAS has been successfully integrated into his new cybertronian shell (some sort of arm, either being a loaner from another corpse or straight up just one MECH invented, it could even be a copy of the missing arm but where's the fun in that) instead of getting all high and mighty about 'being of a superior species' Silas actually bloody thinks on MECH's plans going forward. With a literal army of paramilitary personnel, from the scientists that melded human flesh with cybertronian wires to the average grunt soldier fighting between the battles of iron giants, CYLAS has something that Megatron (at least the Altered Loyalties Megatron I have written previously) has wanted from the start of the series...

An undying force.

For as large as cybertronians physically are their numbers can never match the scale of humanity, I can't remember if the books mentioned only thousands of the dead or up to a million over the course of like... a long fucking time but, that's not even the number of the human population if you're caught up with the number (nearly 8 billion alive today). And with the dead of previous battles already roaming the Earth, in a world where Megatron still being only like one dude can't command a planet wide population of zombies, the only reason he doesn't turn his blade to the weakest denominators of his forces in his plagued state is because their conscious decision to serve him is worth more than mindless servitude.

CYLAS introducing himself and MECH as a solution to this issue, and providing a show of bountiful body horror, makes not even the Decepticon high command quite as safe as they had been; not that it's been proven to be safe standing by Megatron's side given his track record of wanting his SiCs beaten or killed but...

The fact that CYLAS just so happened to have given and then promptly brutalised Dreadwing's hope that Skyquake may have been actually alive, just severely damaged (and, bond weakened from distance and prior injury, clinging to the last shreds of 'my spark didn't kill me with him' reasoning) and broke him out of the spell of blind loyalty to his once great leader.

CYLAS in this version has a little bit more longevity to his existence within the Decepticon forces, not actually a Decepticon soldier as the canon CYLAS pledged himself as but 'The Human Factor' the episode so calls itself akin to the way the American government and the human children are to the Autobots, but being able to physically go toe-to-toe with cybertronians. Megatron might be a little tired of dealing with independents after Airachnid's escapade (I do intend to make her more into a poacher/torturer type character than another Starscream so she might act out a little differently), but Silas isn't one for licking boots anytime soon and as CYLAS, Megatron is no different; you'd think he wouldn't have even done that in the first place given he's already an ex-military 'take-no-nonsense' bitch, but the Breakdown in him probably made him a lapdog...

Anyway that's a whole big post about Altered Loyalties CYLAS... or at least the in depth reasoning behind why he could still integrate himself into the story and why he'd probably have more opportunity to lasting- i prommy it's not bc i like torturing skyquake likers *wink*

I guess this is now a canon event or at least I'll try to make it canon ;)

#silas #silas tfp #leland bishop #CYLAS #tfp CYLAS #MECH #tfp MECH #should i tag other characters? if they're mentioned they're mostly just gonna be corpses #eh whatever this is a MECH post mostly so whatever #transformers #tfp #tfp au #altered loyalties #maccadam #realising that the altered loyalties tag does not include my first post despite me tagging it fuck off #eh whatever the search for it ironically works fine for some fucking reason #the funny thing about rewriting tfp unlike any other rewrite au is that #this starts off pretty fucking immediately since skyquake has been on earth conscious for 500 years he is already in the show #which is different from other rewrite aus like the starscream rewrites (in shadowzone when he stabs himself with dark energon/wakes up) #or knock out rewrites (either operation breakdown the episode after or even all the way to crossfire in season 2) #rewrite fanfic readers who recognise those beginnings- i wink at you #it does mean that there are fundamental changes literally immediately that i have to consider in relation to the whole series #and how it would effect later events that i might like to include but potentially can't #thirst is a really fun episode- have no idea if it'd be able to show up in the first place #but because i couldn't care for the human factor as an episode and more so about the concept of CYLAS himself well- it was easy to separate #he conceptually fits in with the zombies i thought were going to be a main focus for the series back when i was first watching tfp #it got me hyped up in a way that um... it's not like i don't like tfp but my experience from the pilot to the experience i have with the #show is um very different- not in a bad way but i thought it was very cool to do the zombie thing #but the show didn't go that route until the movie when the supernatural elements were kinda... restrained by that point #anyway back to CYLAS- introducing him to a story where this megatron is a little more obsessed with undead armies

[yamujiburo]

HANAMUSA (JESSIExDELIA) MASTER POST

I probably should have started doing this forever ago but I wasn’t sure how long I was gonna stick with drawing these comics. But I guess we’re in it now! This will be continually updated~ EVERYTHING UNDER THE CUT

BEFORE YOU START:

This post is required reading about Team Rocket’s ages since that’s usually a question that comes up a lot LOL. As for Delia’s age, she is said to be 29 in Takeshi Shudo’s (original writer on Pokémon) novel that built out the world and characters of the anime.

Next, I feel like this chart helps give the vibe of what these characters relationship is (all just headcanons except for their names and ages)!

WHERE TO START:

Here’s a post I made detailing how Jessie, James and Meowth initially start living with Delia. It also goes into what each character does in this AU. Before going into the post, you might enjoy this fanfic my girlfriend commissioned! It’s based off of said post and is a more enjoyable read.

Here’s also a list of headcanons!

COMICS:

Here’s all the comics I’ve done! The order of most of them are pretty ambiguous and up in the air but I put them in the order I kinda see in my head! There are some that do take place before Jessie and Delia start dating though! Also a few comics that have several parts but the “next” and “prev” links will be in each comic. So I’ll only link the first part of those ones in this masterpost.

Pre-Relationship

Fast Food

Ophidiophobia

Whipped

Making Eyes

Hairbrush

Inquiries

Separated

First Kiss

During Relationship

Big Bed

Tattoo

Crumbs

Pet Clown

I’d Like To

Jessica

Lipstick (not a comic but some fun extra dialogue for this)

Glow

Official

Stare Down

Shovel Talk

Invisible Walls

Date Night

Face Blind

One Motto Away

Babygirl

Snowgasboard

Delia’s Got a Cold

Mr. Jessie Ketchum

Peek-At-Chu

Hands Off Pikachu!

Wine Nights with James

Beauty and the Beach

Turning Point Arc

Sunscreen

Where Do Babies Come From

Head Scritches

Love Life

Ugly

Ace Trainers

Pikasitting

Mother’s Day

Father’s Day

Gift for Delia

Gift for Jessie

Jessilina Fan

Crossdressing

Type

Hickeys

Journey Arc

Tone

Cooking Twerp

Son

Cooking Advice

Serperior Facts

Cassidy’s Cabin Arc

Father/Son Bonding

Uniform

Hand-Me-Downs

Glasses

Study Help

Happy Valentine’s Day

Wrapped

Daddy Daughter Double Battle

Splinter

Married Life

Wedding

Arbok/Weezing Reunion

Snake Eyes

MISC DRAWINGS:

I’ll update this with links to my other miscellaneous drawings later! 

FAQ:

What does "Hanamusa" mean?

Hanamusa is a combination of Delia and Jessie's Japanese names, Hanako and Musashi respectively.

When does this AU take place?

It takes place sometime after the Mezase Pokémon Master/To Be a Pokémon Master series. So all the events that happened in the series, unless retconned within the series, happened. Ash is 10 at the start of the comics.

What's the status between Jessie, James, Meowth and Giovanni/Team Rocket?

Not great terms since they were fired, but also not the worst terms. Giovanni just let the three of them go without any further issues. I will say that I've always loved the theory that Giovanni keeps Jessie specifically around because of her parentage and he as a soft spot for her that he keeps a secret. I feel like Matori was the one that got the three of them fired and Giovanni wasn't able to make an excuse for them this time (without showing nepotism/special treatment) so he was forced to let them go.

If you headcanon Delia as a lesbian, how did Ash come to be?

Delia was young when she had Ash and I hc that she just didn’t really explore her sexuality much! I myself didn’t realized I liked women until I was 18 and didn’t know I liked ONLY women until like 2 years ago. She got married, had a baby and realized after her husband left that she liked women (trans people exist obviously but I’m also interpreting Ash’s father as a cis man).

Who do you think Ash’s dad is?

I don’t know and I don’t really care to explore it. I’m going off of the novel interpretation that he’s just a deadbeat that left to be a trainer, failed and never came back because of the shame. He’s not important.

Isn’t Giovanni Ash’s dad?

That’s a common misconception that people remember wrong from the Pokémon Live show. Delia mentions she dated Giovanni but then left him and his gang after meeting Ash’s father. I also don’t consider the live show canon personally! I follow The Birth of Mewtwo timeline where Madame Boss founded Team Rocket.

Do you think Delia and Giovanni dated at least?

Nah, I think he’s too old for her? I always got the vibe from The Birth of Mewtwo that he was quite a bit older than Jessie and it’d be sus if he was dating Delia when she was married to, and had a child with her husband at 18/19. He’s a bad guy but not a BAD guy.

You mentioned you still ship Jessie and James. Why not make a Jessie, James, Delia polycule?

I have a few reasons I’ve mentioned before! 1. I’m in super deep with this AU already and I feel it’d be very confusing for casual viewers of my stuff if James was added into the relationship haha. 2. I’ve drawn Jessie and James together since 2011 and took this AU as an opportunity to try my hand at writing them as queer, platonic besties bc I love that interpretation of them a lot as well. 3. I’m not poly myself and the way I write this ship is largely based off of my experiences with my girlfriend. I just know I’d favor the Jessie/Delia of it all which isn’t fair and not a good interpretation of a poly relationship. All that said, I DO super enjoy seeing peoples’ poly headcanons and art!

Who does James end up with in this AU?

No one. He's aroace and is happy to be single

Do Jessie and James have all their Pokémon in this AU

I think they have all the Pokémon that they did by the end of Mezase Pokémon Master (all their Pokémon that were left at HQ). Most of their released Pokémon have stayed released and the Alola Pokémon are still in Alola. I bring back Arbok and Weezing post-Jessie and Delia getting married. I may bring back Chimecho, Growlie and Cacnea if I think of an idea I like!

What are Meowth and James up to in this AU?

Hop back to the top of this post under the "Where to Start" section. All your questions will be answered.

Does Ash travel with anyone at this point of his life?

I don't have anyone in particular in mind! I could see him making new friends (Nemona???) or traveling with different combinations of old friends. Like him, Misty and Goh, him, Dawn and Cilan, him, Serena and Lillie etc.

Will Delia ever get over her phobia of snake Pokémon

Not fully! I think overcoming fears is fine and good but I think real PHOBIAS are much harder to get past and I don't want to cheapen it. She slowly gets used to Jessie's Seviper specifically and gets to the point where she can pet it comfortably with Jessie in the room. But otherwise, still scared and would need that same amount of time per Pokémon

Is Jessie gaining weight or is it just me?

Not just you! Jessie puts on a bit of relationship weight overtime as you'll see in the later comics in the timeline. Jessie grew in poverty, never knowing when her next meal would be and that continued into her life as a Team Rocket member. Once she was able to settle down (with a woman who runs her own restaurant no less) she's able to live a healthier lifestyle with regular meals and puts on some weight because of that.

Does Jessie ever feel self conscious about gaining weight?

Nope! She feels happier and healthier and hotter. She's also unreasonably excited to clear out her old clothes and get a new wardrobe.

Would Jessie and Delia ever have kids together or adopt?

Nah, Ash is enough for them! I have come up with hypothetical kids for them but they're not canon to this AU. Just a fun little thing for me.

Will you ever put this on webtoon?

Nah. People mostly ask me this because they want to read everything in the order of the timeline but to my knowledge, you can’t reorder chapters or installments which would defeat the purpose. I also don’t think nintendo fan stuff would fly there. Also, also it’s just extra work and another place to upload and I want to keep this all fun for myself~

#hanamusashipping #hanamusa #hanamusa comic #master post

[swordsandholly]

Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

#simon ghost riley #ghost cod #call of duty #cod x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #ghost x reader #plus size reader #fat reader #reader insert #simon riley x you #simon x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #smut #cod smut #reader insert smut #one shot #Ghost with OCD is my roman empire #he’s so much more well adjusted than I usually write him but it was fun #holly writes

[javiscigarette]

Teacher's Pet

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help. 

Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).

w/c: 7.7k idk what happened

a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm

Part Two

my masterlist

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever." Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed. "A what?" "Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.  "No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp. 

"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the time” 

"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.

Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."

You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.

"Okay,” he starts from the living room. “Maybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."

You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."

You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.

"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."

"You think so?" You ask hopefully.

"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."

Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."

"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pissy, dump his ass."

"That simple, huh?" You scoff.

"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."

"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!

"Nothing? You ain’t ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."

You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.

"I've watched porn before" you retort. 

"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.

"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.

Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.

"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"

You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.

"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.” Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"

"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."

"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.

"Alright. Then do."

"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.

Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face. 

"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."

You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out. 

It's not a bad idea, not necessarily. 

You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along fabulously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies and you watch movies together almost every Friday night.

 It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.

It's an absolutely insane idea. 

You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.

"What?" he says, looking back at you.

"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.

"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."

You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Well now you're lying."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?!"

"That face!"

"I'm not making a face!"

"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"

You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know you’re not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what you’re about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself. 

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."

Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.

"A what?"

"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head. 

"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.

"I’m sorry, that was…It was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.

"Is that what you want?"

You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.

"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."

He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.

"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back. 

But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.

"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.

"It's okay, come here."

His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.

"You really wanna do this?” he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."

You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.

"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."

There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.

"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.

"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."

"Not drunk?”

"Nope."

"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."

"Uh huh."

"And you still want to?"

You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.

"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."

He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, and—

His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm. 

"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"

You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That you’re going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you’re positive you’re no longer able to breathe. 

"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod. 

You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.

He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.

It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt. 

He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing. 

"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.

"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"

"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body. 

"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."

His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.

You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.

"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.

"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek. 

"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.

"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.” 

You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.

"You’re a good kisser,” you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"

"When it’s true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."

You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"

Joel hums as he thinks for a moment. 

"What do you want to do?"

You stare at him for a second, blinking.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.

"Well, how far do you want to take this?"

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You can’t deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to “prepare” for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?

Yeah, probably.

"All the way" you answer. “I want to go all the way” 

He doesn’t pounce on you like you expected, doesn’t press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.

"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isn’t what you actually want. I don’t want you thinking that."

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.

"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't want to, I get it, I can just leave and-"

Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doin’ this if I didn't want to. Just makin’ sure this is what you really want."

"I want it.” 

He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again. 

“Alright then.” He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. “ We’re not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.” 

Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.

"I’m not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."

"Fine, fine,” he relents. “Let me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"

Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.

"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile. 

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.

"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I’ll stop, I’ll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.

You huff, but let him pull you closer until you’re pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

"I’ll be good. I promise."

"Liar"

"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."

You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then he’s pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.

"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.

His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.

He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.

He doesn’t ask if you're sure again and you’re grateful because you’re not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists. 

“Can I take this off, baby?”

Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. You’re left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.

Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.

But then he’s pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.

"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.

"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.

His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt. 

"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."

The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing. 

He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.

"Can I?" he asks.

"Please."

He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.

His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.

He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You’re already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly. 

"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"

He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.

"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.

You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.

"Get on the bed, baby."

You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.

He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.

"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."

"You're having entirely too much fun with this,” you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec.  

"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"

Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.

"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.

He grins, his brow quirking up.

"Look at you, being all bossy"

"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.

His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer. 

“I sure do.” 

He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can. 

"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.

His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.

You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath. 

Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.

"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.

He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.

"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.

"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit. 

"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"

You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him. 

"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once again 

Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.

"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."

"But-"

"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "You’re not apologizin’ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.

You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.

"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.

"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."

You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

And he's barely touched you.

"How's that feel?"

You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.

He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.

"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.

"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"

You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now. 

"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.

"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically. 

"I know, honey, I know."

You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.

"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.

"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.

White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge. 

You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-

"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.

You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.

He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.

"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.

"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth. 

"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.

He grunts and shakes his head.

"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."

You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again. 

He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.

"Alright?"

You swallow and nod, licking your lips.

"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"

"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him. 

"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"

"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"

"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.

He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.

"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"

He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.

"See what I mean?"

"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"

He hums and nips at your thigh.

"Damn right I do."

You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.

His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.

He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.

The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.

"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"

His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.

He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.

You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and– is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?

You're fucked.

A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.

"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"

He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive. 

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.

He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless. 

But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.

You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.

How to please him. 

You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans. 

You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.

"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.

"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."

Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.

"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"

"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he can’t detect the underlying want for him and him only.

He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.

"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"

You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.

"Oh my god, that was terrible."

"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.

"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.

You gulp and lick your lips.

"Or..."

He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought"

You glare at him and then sigh.

"You're a bully"

"Am I?” He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. “ 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick. 

"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.

"And proud of it.”

"Pride is a sin."

"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"

You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.

"You're ridiculous"

"You love it"

And that's the thing, isn't it?

Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.

And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.

You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.

"Joel?" you say his name softly.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Teach me."

Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

[eff-plays]

Ok so I watched the interview with Stephen Rooney, Astarion's writer, and here are some highlights. (I'm an aspiring writer and current game design student who wants to write for games so I'm sorry if some of these insights aren't as interesting to you as they are to me <3)

He calls Astarion his "horrible little vampire boy"

He loves seeing the fandom around Astarion<3

He did write other characters in the game, but mostly NPCs surrounding Astarion or his storyline, so it mostly revolved around Astarion

Astarion is not as connected to other companions/Origins as, for example, Lae'zel and Shadowheart, or Wyll and Karlach are to each other, but he is still reactive to their stories, even if it's just to stand off to the side and laugh when something terrible happens

He had a clear sense of where Astarion's story would start and end, but it got "muddy in the middle", but those are also moments where the best ideas come from

They write from the general idea that every character has one "good" and one "evil" ending, in order to give the player choice. RIP Ascendant apologists :(

According to Stephen, two of the most important aspects of Astarion's character (to keep consistent when bringing him to Idle Champions, at least) is that he enjoys violence, but is also fun about it

"He has a certain appreciation for violence, I guess? A bit of a murdery streak. [...] He's a vampire, he's all about blood, and he's all about, kind of, those darker sides of humanity. [..] But at the same time, he is ... He is really fun, he's really fun to write, he's really fun to have in your party, and it's very important for me that that is also represented."

"He's gonna stab you, but will have a smile on his face as he does it? I mean, I dunno. That's kind of him in a nutshell."

Larian would not have allowed for Astarion to be a typical brooding Dracula type, and there were scenes that were shot down for not being original enough

The main thing about Astarion was trying to get a "sense of fun." It would be easy to write a character that was very unlikable, and they absolutely did not want to do that

Rooney says Astarion is consistently terrible throughout the game and awful in a whole lot of ways, but he also needed to be charming enough that you could tolerate his presence and wanted him around

Rooney also had a lot of input on Astarion's stats (meaning the 10 Charisma is probalby 100% intentional)

He also had input on how certain lines should be delivered, even though the writers didn't directly work with voice actors

The way Astarion moves and poses is "all Neil"

Apparently, Neil Newbon worked on the character for years and Rooney did not speak to him once, though his voice work did influence how Astarion's lines were written and it became a "feedback loop" (Possible context for "ONLY SLIGHTLY, NEIL")

There were no points where a line delivery drastically changed Astarion's writing; rather it was a constant, slow evolution

However, there was one very spoilery moment where Neil gave such emotion to some "basic" lines that it fundamentally changed the scene (WHAT IS IT OMG)

It's difficult to balance approval, as you don't want to straight up write a monster. Every character needs to have some humanity in them. So if it comes to leaving the party, it needed to be the result of something central to said character. They wanted to be mindful of situations that would cause actual rifts between characters. (I assume this is why most generic disapprovals/approvals are +/- 1 or 2, while character-related ones give +/-5 or more)

However, as they don't write straight up horrible people/monsters, it doesn't come up as often as one might think.

The interviewer makes a point about how characters like Astarion and Lae'zel are good examples of how to play "evil" characters, as they are maybe not the best people but are still eager and willing to stick around the other party members

They worked to make sure the characters would work as a group, no matter the configuration of the group. The characters needed to be on the same path, even if they don't always agree or walk that path the same way.

Stephen Rooney is very proud of the "climactic" scene of Astarion's story. (AS HE SHOULD BE.) He even had to step away from the computer and have an emotional moment. Me too, man.

He's also "extremely pleased" that there's a point where you can punch Astarion in the face. "Actually, that one might be my favorite part" A MAN OF THE PEOPLE!!

Stephen Rooney's tip on what specific thing you should try out with Astarion: When he's trying to get a "sneaky nibble" at night, you should "probably" let him bite you. Way ahead of you there, sir.

No discussion about Astarion's romance unfortunately, but that's that!

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #anyway ... after dragon age it feels so mindblowing to have writers who aren't apologists for their characters