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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 5 months

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Aussie Slang || Tom Blyth x Actress!Reader

Summary: You quiz Tom on set on some Australian slangs as his Aussie gf ;)

A/n: Inspired by the interview between Sydney Sweeney and Joe Davidson, also bc as an Aussie this was fun to do lol 🙈

Warnings: none

Wc:

actress!reader au masterlist

Divider by @pommecita

"Tomm" You enter your shared trailer with your phone in hand, recording. "Yes, darling?" Tom looks up from his script as he gives you a smile and slightly confused face as he looks towards your phone. "I'm going to test your knowledge on aussie slang and words," You set up your camera on the table in front of him as he pulls you by your waist to sit on his lap.

He touches your hair that were in hair rollers as you smile at his buzzed hair, your favourite look on him. "I feel like I'm going to be absolutely terrible as this," He points out as you chuckle, fixing your camera. "I know, especially since I don't really say some of the stuff I'm going to quiz you on," You giggle as he throws his head back.

"That's even better," He sarcastically says with a smile as you pull out a small note book with the things you wrote down. "Okay, first one, are you ready?" You hype Tom up as he nervously looks at you. "This one is an easy one, I say it all the time. She'll be right"

You hide your smile behind the notebook as he thinks, "She'll be right?" You nod at him, "When have you said this?" He looks at you dumbfounded as your jaw drops, "Tom! I say this all the time, I even said it just this morning!" "I was half asleep this morning!" He reasons as you cover your face and laugh.

"This morning you told me it was going to be colder today and you said to bring my jacket remember?" "Yeah..." "Well I said she'll be right and I regretted not bringing one so you gave me yours. There you go, I just gave you a hint!"

Tom's mouth forms an o shaped, "Doesn't it just mean it's all good?" "Yes!" You chuckle. "Okay, that was an easy one" Tom smiles as you give him a look and look to the camera shaking your head. "Okay next one, I don't really say this to you but when I'm talking to my sister on the phone, you might hear me say this one: scoenonn"

Tom gives you the weirdest look as you laugh so hard tears started to form. "I'm sorry could you repeat that?" Tom looks absolutely baffled. "Scoenonn." You say in your Australian accent one more time as he shakes his head. "Is that even english?" He quietly laughs to himself as he thinks hard. "I say this to my sister when I greet her sometimes," You give him a hint.

"I actually have no idea," Tom says, his finger drawing circles on your back. "It just means what's going on" You laugh as Tom pulls another baffled expression. "Why can't you just say what's going on instead of what you just- How do you even spell that!" You show your notebook to Tom as he furrows his eyebrows at the spelling.

"Scoenonn. Wow." He chuckles to himself. "For this one I'm going to have to actually find it around here,” you look around the trailer before getting off Tom's lap and running into the bedroom and to your bedside drawer pulling it out. "Babe, what's this?" You show him a tub of vaseline as he gives you an odd look. "Vaseline?" He says in a questioning tone as he gives you space to sit back on his lap.

"Yes, but what do Aussies call this?" You hold it up to him before applying it to your lips as he watches you intently. "Uh-" "I think I have said it to you when I ask you where it is," Tom rubs his chin as he thinks. "Is it something completely whack and doesn't make sense?" He asks as you shake your head.

"This is fun," You giggle as you look to your phone. Tom lets out a groan of frustration, "Can you just tell me?" "Fine. Vaso. We call it Vaso" You couldn't help the smile that was forming on your lips as he shakes his head and laughs.

"You aussies sure do like shortening things up," He points out as you laugh at his comment. "Okay second last one, "What is a bottle-o." "A bottle-O? Is that just a a type of bottle?" You shake your head, "Nope." "Uhm, is it a name of a shop in Australia?" "You're getting there!" You chuckle.

"Want me to put it in a sentence?" You asks as he nods, "Do you wanna come with me to the bottle-o and pick out a few beers?" Your aussie accent comes through as he smiles at you accent. Tom absolutely adores your accent and could listen to you talking all day if it mean hearing your accent.

"A bottle shop?" He guesses as you pat his shoulder. "Good job babe," You grin as you flip the page of your notebook. "Okay last one, If you don't get this one, your aussie fans are going to be so disappointed as well as your girlfriend." You tease him.

"Aussie Aussie Aussie," You watch him as he repeats it to himself before his eyes light up. "Oi oi oi!" He chants back as the two of you burst out laughing. "Yes!" You wrap your arms around his neck as his arms wrap themselves around your waist. "This was fun wasn't?" You say as you lean forward and grab your phone, aiming it towards you two in each others embrace.

"Maybe I should quiz you on some British slangs, see how you go," Tom looks at you with a smile on his face as you make eye contact with him, "I'd be so good at that love," You chuckle before ending the video. You posted it on your Instagram and it blew up. Tom kept his promise of testing you on British slangs and that video also became very popular which then turned into your little thing of quizzing the other cast members.

#tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #the hunger games #hunger games ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #tom blyth x actress!reader

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jakescakeislateforourdate · 2 months

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Hey girly!! Im too shy to ask this without the anonymous filter but first of all I’ve been reading through your blog and I love it honestly. I was wondering if you are open to requests if you’d be able to write up something about joe rantz (I am absolutely LIVING for blonde callum) and maybe a coaches daughter trope? he saw her when he went to sign himself up, at the practices all that jazz and just them like becoming friends then more than friends, the boat scene where he gets his seat taken away from him maybe? thank you so much and again I love your work! xx

Hello, my lovely anon. Glad to see you in my inbox. I apologize for the wait but I've been coming out of an awful slump and I was trying to make this piece not total garbage. I hope you enjoy it and I hope I see you in my inbox again.

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Joe Rantz (Callum Turner’s) x reader

wc: 4,600

Joe finds himself utterly gobsmacked when he discovers that the pretty face he’s seen at the shell house is the coach’s daughter and not his wife.

Enjoy this garbage!

…

Joe Rantz had come to the shell house in search of work. He’d hoped that making the team would cover his tuition and get him a room and he needed it so desperately. Roger Morris stood next to him, chewing nervously at his nails. “Sorry, Joe, didn’t realize competition would be so tight.” He mutters, spitting out a shred of his fingernail. Coach Ulbrickson was going over the basics of practice. It sounded like absolute hell to Joe but he was out of options. He fidgeted with the number painted on his jersey. Sure, he was strong from a lifetime of rough labor but so were the other boys. Most of them were broke too and just as desperate. Joe didn’t know if he had what it took to stand out but he’d be damned if he couldn’t make a life for himself because he couldn’t muscle up some money for college.

As Ulbrickson speaks, a shadow appears in his office window. It’s too far for Joe’s nervous gaze to actually study the figure. He tries to focus on coach but the shadow continues to draw his attention. Roger notices too. “Who the hell is that?” Joe just shrugs. The shadow never leaves the window even as Ulbrickson finishes up and the boys get split up. Joe can’t dwell on the figure any longer because he’s being herded into the middle of shellhouse. He begins a horrible set of workouts. His body is made for hard work but he’s never actually worked out before. His muscles aren’t used to straining this way.

It’s not long before his breathing becomes labored and sweat is pouring down his back. His curls hang down his forehead, sticking to his skin uncomfortably. And just when the pain is becoming unbearable the coaches are swapping them out and Joe is put on a junky old boat and an oar is pushed into his hands. They start rowing and instantly, the only thing on Joe’s mind is how bad his back hurts. Pained grunts and groans echo across the water as the boys struggle to keep pulling the oars.

Eventually, it’s all over. Joe stumbles onto the dock in front of the shellhouse and feels his knees shaking with excursion. Men begin to drain away from the shellhouse and as the numbers dwindle, the shadow in the window of Ulbrickson’s office reappears. It moves through the glass panes like a swan through water. Then the office door opens and Joe sees your face for the first time.

“That was some tough practice, huh?” Roger bumps Joe’s shoulder, a crooked smile on his face. Joe cannot respond and Roger follows his gaze. “Washington, Washington, what finery you enjoy.”

You descend the steps and take a place between Ulbrickson and Bolles. Ulbrickson puts and arm around and Joe feels his heart wither a little. You’re probably Mrs. Ulbrickson. Though he can’t shake the impression that you look a little too young to be with Ulbrickson.

“Alas,” Roger throws up his hands, “Finery we cannot also enjoy.”

“Don’t be crass.”

“I’m not! How was that crass?” Roger purses his lips and nudges Joe.

Joe just buttons up his jacket and picks up his books, “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”

The very next day, Joe is suffering through practice. He aches all over and his muscles scream at him. He’s already shaking when he gets done with the basic strength building exercises. Most of the boys are. There are fewer numbers today but this does not better Joe’s odds by much. They clamber into Old Nero and start rowing away. His wrists twinge and his knees spasm. He rows and rows until he thinks his body will give out and then Ulbrickson is directing them back to the shellhouse. Jow crawls out of the boat, soaked to the bone and stiff as a board.

Then he sees you again, this time your sorting registry papers with Pocock. Your back is turned to him, so you don’t notice his longing stare. He keeps telling himself that you’re a married lady and that he should be focused on making the team, but nothing seems to chase you from his mind.

Coach Ulbrickson sweeps across the dock and places a hand on top of your head, an odd gesture between husband and wife but Joe wouldn’t know about those things. Since his group was the last to use Old Nero, they get the privilege of stowing the oars. Joe begins unlatching the mechanism when he shifts on his knees.

It happens so fast he can’t clock what’s happening. First there’s the sensation of slipping, the horrible thrust of his legs flying out from beneath him. He twists mid slip, and his side smacks the dock painfully before he’s swept off the dock by his own weight. He plumets into the cold water with a catastrophic splash and agonized shriek.

When Joe resurfaces a dozen hands are reaching for him. He grasps onto George Hunt’s forearm and allows Shorty to hoist him onto the sodden wood planks. A fluffy white towel is draped around his shoulders; firm hands rub his chilled biceps. “Are you alright?” You face appears before him.

Joe is almost too stunned to speak, “I—yeah, yeah I’m okay.”

You tuck the ends of the towel into his hands, “Better get showered up and dressed.” Joe just nods and stumbles past you and into the locker room. Roger follows closely behind, teasing Joe relentlessly.

“You’re fallin’ harder than I thought.”

“Roger!” Joe grinds his teeth, huffing and puffing. “You need better jokes.”

Joe spends that night struggling to focus on his schoolwork. He has math homework that needs doing. He has books to read. The one in his hands now periodically goes in and out of focus as Joe’s mind wanders. On the page is the story of a western novel, a man had found a girl walking alone the road at dusk, all on her own. He didn’t want to leave her to the coyotes, so he offered her a ride into the nearest town. They were riding horseback across the prairie. Her arms wound tightly around him; her hands splayed over his chest.

Her hands—

What is wrong with you, Joe?

Joe reads this line over and over again. Each time he nears the end his brain short circuits and all he can think about are your hands on your shoulders. You hadn’t even really touched him, at least not his skin. Yet the only thing shooting through his neurons are the sensations of your fingers along his skin. That imaginary touch he can conjure up so perfectly. He eventually gives in and skips down a few paragraphs. He reads late into the night and the phantom touches are still nagging his senses when he closes the book and rolls over to sleep.

…

Day after day, Joe sees you at practice. You congratulate him when he makes the team and help him with his technique every once and a while. “Roll your wrists just a bit more.” Your fingers would poke at his forearms and direct him in graceful strokes. It fries his brain. You give pointers to the rest of the team too, working closely with Bolles and Pocock to get them in racing shape. It’s not long into the season when Ulbrickson decides to switch coxswains.

“This is Bobby Moch. Your new jockey.” Bolles announces one day. Bobby is short and slender and sharp tongued. The second he climbs in the boat and starts barking out commands, Joe is flabbergasted. Who is Bobby to talk to the team this way? But they all find themselves obeying his every word. What really irks Joe about Bobby is how friendly he is with you. You exchange jokes and poke fun at each other. Joe tells himself that he just thinks it’s inappropriate to flirt with the coach’s wife but beneath it all he’s incredibly jealous that Bobby can make you laugh so easily. It makes Joe pine for attention in a way that he never has before.

The day of their race against California, Joe is all jitters and nerves. He bounces on the balls of his feet and shakes his hands, trying to loosen the anxiety. Streamers and garlands of flags decorate the locker room and the campus. People have gathered in clusters along the course and wave flags of purple and gold. The smell of popcorn and peanuts permeates the air and Joe promises to indulge himself if they win.

As the crew carried their shell down to the water, they begin chanting to themselves. “Bow down to Washington!” They neglect the varsity’s jeers and clip their oars into position. They spot Coach Ulbrickson in the stands, you at his side. And then there’s another woman. And Ulbrickson hugs her. And then he kisses her.

Right in front of you! What is going on?

“Rantz! Eyes on me!” Bobby hollers. But Joe can’t help stealing another confused glance. “I said quite drooling over coach’s daughter and LOOK AT ME!”

Joe feels like an idiot. He puts his head down in shame and tightens his grip on the oar. Ulbrickson joins them on the dock and gives one of his famously encouraging speeches. Joe is only half paying attention. They push off and are left with lovely Bobby hyping them up while they wait for the race to start. They lean forward, like a bow drawn for a shot. And then the white flag flies and the boats shoot away from the docks.

There’s nothing but blur as Joe rows. He can only focus on the muscled shoulders of Don Hume in the stroke seat as Bobby screams at them. “28!”

About halfway through the course, Bobby demands the stroke rate be upped and Don performs. The shell lurches forward, eating up the distance between Washington and Cal until the JV boat surpasses the Berkeley blokes. Then the boat is cutting across the finish line, a clean win. Adrenaline rushes Joe’s veins. He throws his fists in the air as the team splashes and roars. They’re inevitably drowned out by the crowd who bursts up in a shower of peanuts and Washington flags.

Coach Ulbrickson, the new woman Joe assumes his Ulbrickson’s wife, and you rush the dock as the boys climb out of the boat. “Excellent job.” Mrs. Ulbrickson shakes their hands as they unclip their oars. Bolles is compassionate enough to give them each a pat on the back as they hoist the boat over their heads and haul it off.

Joe can’t help but notice the copious amounts of onlookers pooling around the shell as they carry it back to the shellhouse. They set it down on the stands and before they can even take their hands off the shell, they are bombarded by Washington fans. Girls reaching out to stroke their biceps or kiss their cheeks. Joe has never received attention like this once in his life. He’s as polite as possible, brushing off a few girls here and there and shaking the hand of the occasional fellow. Shorty has accumulated a few lipstick stains on his cheek. Don Hume is blushing from the tips of his ears down to the point of his freckled nose. Chuck and Roger accept a few hugs. They bask in the winners’ glory for only a few moments until the varsity team strolls by. They make a comment to Moch that Joe doesn’t catch but judging by the way Bobby’s shoulders square he can make obvious conclusions.

“You rowed so well today, Joe.” He hears your voice, and his palms start to sweat.

“Thanks, I uh—” It occurs to him that he doesn’t actually know a thing about you. “Sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten your name.” You smile at him, and syllables fall out but the crowd is too loud. “What?” Your grasp his shoulder and lean in, the sound of your name echoes off the shell of his ear.

When you pull away, you’re still smiling but before Joe can ask you another question, Bobby is buzzing by with a play-by-play of exactly what happened in Bobby’s world.

You shade your eyes and peer down at the docks, “Looks like dad is almost done with the varsity. I should get down there.” You say, and Bobby turns around to talk to Shorty. “Hey. Will I see you at the party tonight?” Your hand rests on Joe’s shoulder. He prays you can’t feel his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Good. You had better save a dance for me, Joe Rantz.”

You leave him breathless, the butterflies in his stomach so vicious that he shudders. He watches you disappear down the pathway to the dock and his heart starts hammering with anticipation. You want to dance with him. You want to touch his hands, touch him. And then he remembers that you already did that, he was too focused on the motion of your lips that he’d hardly registered the sensation of your hands on his arm. Damn! What had it felt like? He’d remembered it’d made him flabbergasted and choked his speech but he couldn’t remember how the grooves in your palm felt as they brushed over his skin. The warmth of your fingertips. He curses himself out and vanishes into the locker room to get changed.

…

The dance rolls around rather too quickly and Joe is swimming in nerves. He has to tie his tie twice because he messes up so badly, he can’t even draw it tight to his neck. Roger found out all too quickly and hasn’t let Joe catch a break.

“A date with coach’s daughter. Careful Joe, Ulbrickson might throw you off the team if he catches the wrong look in your eye.”

“Shut up, Roger, I’m not greasy like you”

“Ouch, that hurts me.”

“Clearly not enough.” Joe hisses as he finally gets his tie right.

“Feels like I’m a father about to send his kid off to prom.”

Joe sighs and throws on his suit coat. “Oh, please—”

“Look at you fly, shooting out of your league.”

Roger works a smile onto Joe’s face, and they set off for the party. Spring is finally warming the campus up from a brutal winter and a few couples mull around outside. Joe and Roger find their way into the crowded gymnasium, both shocked by just how loud it is. Joe can’t even hear his own thoughts. They spot the team almost immediately, clustered around tables, drinks in their hands. A few of the boys are dancing with some lovely dames, a few are leaned against the wall having close conversations. Don is sitting by himself on a bench a few feet away from the refreshment table, watching the dance floor. Joe is turning to follow Roger towards the other boys but an arm loops through his, “Thought you weren’t going to show.” You practically shout.

Joe can’t help but grin as you capture his attention. “You weren’t joking.”

“Not a bit, Rantz, didn’t have any other dancing plans except for this one.”

“Guess I should make it worth your wait then.” Joe leads you into the thicket of bodies.

He prides himself on the laugh you let out, “please do,” you say as he takes your hands and spins to face you. He places his hand high on your waist and cradles the other gently in his palm. He can feel the smooth plains of you hand against his. Each crease and each callous. His are no doubt unbelievably rough from the rowing and he would feel bad but right now all he can feel are your fingers lacing through his. “You’re not half bad.” You tease. Joe knows his cheeks are heating up to a flaming red. Probably his ears too.

His hand migrates to the small of your back as the music changes into a soft slow song. “I’ll be completely honest,” he starts, “I had no idea you were the coach’s daughter.”

“Then who else would I be?”

“I thought you were his wife.” He looks away sheepishly, but your laughter is so unrestrained and whole that Joe’s heart melts. You can’t stop laughing either and it’s contagious.

“You’re an engineering student, right?” Your shoes brush as you sway with him.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Joyce.” Joe’s heart drops. In his infatuation he’d forgotten all about her. “She was trying to hit on you, but she figured out that your attention was elsewhere.”

“You too are good friends then?”

“Just since the start of the year. We have an English class together.” You and Joe talk for a while, it forces you to be close and neither of you care to separate. Eventually, you move outside and sit with sit with Joe on the steps of the gym. It’s still chilly out and you sit close to Joe which he doesn’t mind one bit. At some point your head rests on his shoulder and you close your eyes. Joe can do nothing but stare down at you, his mouth agape.

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” You trace his knuckles with your pointer finger.

Joe’s head pounds, his mouth dry, “This has never happened to me before.”

“None of the girls from high school? Never?”

“Not one.”

You look up at Joe and reach to smooth back a blond curl. “Shame, they were missing out.” This makes Joe smile again and he’s immensely pleased with how easily you do that to him. Make him happy. He hasn’t felt like this since… he can’t remember when. Sure, he was happy when the team won but that was different. That was pride. So was making the team. This feels more affectionate, closer to the heart. He wonders if this is what love feels like but that would be silly; he’s only known your name for a day. He’s also never been flattered quite like this. Besides Joyce, he can’t think of anyone else who’s actually been interested in him. Certainly not one who compliments him the way you do.

People start to drain out of the gym very slowly and Joe checks his watch. “So late already?”

“Guess I should get home; my dad will be wrought with worry.” You joke and straighten out your skirt.

“Can I walk you home?”

“I would love that.”

Joe offers you his hand, “Where does coach live?”

“Not too far.” You accept his calloused hand and direct him off campus. Surprisingly, Joe has read the book you’re reading for English and time flies as you discuss the book. Then Joe makes a sobering comment that makes you stop and study him.

“His parents remind me of my own.”

Joe realizes what he’s let slip, “Don’t worry about it too much. I’m okay.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

Joe presses his lips into a line and stares down at his worn shoes. A wave of self-consciousness washes over him as he realizes how ragged of a life he has lived and just how much it shows. “Well—”

“Is this why you have a hard time trusting your team?”

“Hey now,”

“Sorry.” You take his hands.

He grimaces and squeezes your soft palms. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes.”

Joe sighs and swipes a thumb across your knuckles. “My Pops just… left me one day. Told me I’d be fine on my own.” Joe gives you parts of the story. Mostly what he feels like stomaching at the moment.

When he’s finished you let go of his hands and cup his cheeks. He sinks into the touch, soaking it up like a flower budding in sunlight. You don’t say anything, you just look at him. You look at him like he’s the only thing that’s ever mattered and his heart trembles because he has never once known what it’s like to be that for someone else. And then you stand on tip toes and plant a hearty kiss on his forehead. “This is it actually,” you gesture behind you at the hosue that must be the Ulbricksons’. “I’ll see you tomorrow at practice?”

“Yeah.” The spot on his forehead that you kissed tingles. “Nowhere else I’d want to be.”

…

The Poughkeepsie Regatta rolls around all too quickly and Ulbrickson has to make a decision. The varsity boat who deserves it. Or the JV boat who could win it. His hands sweat as he stands on at that pulpit and reads off his preplanned speech. As he talks, he thinks about the future of the rowing program. The jobs it has provided him and Bolles. About how Pocock would have to find work elsewhere and it’d kill Al Ulbrickson to send him away.

He leans into the mic and spits, “and that boat is our JV boat.” It has to be them. They have to win. Moans and groans blow his way as the crowd rejects his announcement. Regret washes over him but he cannot take this back. He has to be right about his crew. He tips his hat and hustles off the podium as the JV bursts into celebration. He has to be right.

…

Joe is more than pleased to see you on the train to Poughkeepsie. He slides into the car with you, and you chat away. You were fast friends the night of the dance and have since become closer. The kiss on the forehead still lingers sometimes, especially when Joe sees your lips form your smile. You entice him into some card games and eventually a game of chess. At some point, he decides that he needs to sleep and bids you goodnight so that he can find a train car to sleep in. But before he does, he sneaks a chaste kiss onto your knuckles.

His good mood is stamped out the very next day when the team takes to the water. They don’t row good, and frustration starts to build. Bobby and the coaches try and get them working together, telling them that it’s just nerves and new water. But tensions rise regardless. The days start to dwindle, and the crew is getting worse and worse.

Blame starts to turn to him, and Joe is at a loss. He doesn’t want to believe that he’s holding the team back, but he thinks back to what you said that night he walked you home. But the most awful feeling creeps over him, not an ounce of care. What’s wrong with him. This crew has been the only family he’s had in years. He needs them. But he can’t bring himself to admit it.

Before he knows it, it slips and Ulbrickson is exiling him from the boat. As the crew watches Joe storm away, their spare crawls in and they set off for another row. Bolles taps you on the shoulder, “you had better see if you can do anything. Enlist Pocock if you have to.” Your father nods along.

You set out to find him, not that it was hard there’s not many places he can go alone. He’s stuffing his suitcase when you find him. “Don’t start.” He snaps. Then he sees your expression and his anger sours. “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t—”

“Don’t give up on your team, Joe.”

“I’m not.”

“You are, you’re quitting and throwing everything you’ve worked for away.”

“Don’t, don’t even start to pretend you know me.” He realizes too late that he’s made everything so much worse and before he can fix a thing Pocock is at the door.

“I could use some help putting another coat of oil on the shell.”

You duck past Pocock and leave Joe with a painful pit of remorse in his stomach. He follows Pocock and takes the talking to straight to the heart. As he lathers on a thick coat of oil, he figures he can bargain with Ulbrickson in the morning, but he should make a proper apology to you now. He racks his brain for anything that would make it right, but he’s horrifically inexperienced and it’s crippling him now. He feels like a child having a tantrum. He feels miniscule and insignificant.

After Joe dunks his brush into the whale oil can for the last time, he figures he’d better just confront the issue head on since he has no way of handling it delicately. He has no grace and he’s sure you’re aware of this. Pocock gives him an encouraging pat and takes the can from him. Joe winds his way back to the hotel and through the halls. Your room is on the second floor, third door down. He knocks gently, eyes lingering on the hideous carpet and tacky sconces. The door swings open after a moment and Joe is met with your disapproving glower. His tongue seems to swell in his mouth so badly that he worries it’ll flop out when he tries to speak.

“Coffee?” You ask when you realize he will stand there silently forever if you don’t let him in.

“No… I just wanted to—to apologize.”

“Oh really.” Your eyebrow quirks.

Joe is fumbling for words. You stand aside and motion for him to step inside so you can have this discussion in privacy. “I know that was wrong to take out my frustration on you. That wasn’t fair and none of it is your fault.” He twiddles his thumbs. How does he go about this without absolutely butchering it? “I just—” As he trails off, he notices a hurt dullness in your eyes. He recognizes it as pity. “You and the crew are really all I’ve got, and I’m so scared I’m going to lose it.”

“These boys aren’t going to leave you behind unless you separate yourself from them like today.”

“I know.

“Really?”

“Pocock made sure I know.”

The edges of your lips tilt up. You pull him down onto the foot of the bed and take his hand. “Are you actually going to try and trust them?”

“Don’t have enough faith to put it in anyone else.”

You squeeze his hand and trace a finger along his jawline, sweeping a knuckle under his chin. You force his stubborn gaze to you and find nothing but desperation. Wanting things like this doesn’t come natural to Joe and it shows, but he’s not so different from the other boys in that boat.

You reach up and fiddle with a curl, “apology accepted.” Tears pool in the corners of his eyes and he tries to choke them down. You place a hand on his chest and rest your forehead on his. His breath fans over your cheeks. The tip of his nose brushes yours. His shoulders sag inwards and he reaches for your waist.

“Can I—may I kiss you?”

Joe’s sweetness never fails to amaze you. You cradle his face and bring him closer. “Yes, Joe.” His breath hitches and his lips finally meet yours for the very first time. He’s gentle but generous and lets you kiss him for as long as you like. His arms wrap around you fully and hold you to his chest. He gets the feeling that he’ll be craving these moments all the time now, finally understanding what Roger and Chuck rave about. He’s hooked on your lips and your weight against him and when you pull away it breaks his heart.

“You should get cleaned up before you talk to my father, you smell like whale oil.”

...

Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading this. If you'd like to request, feel free to do so. I always love you in my inbox. I hope you enjoyed this fic and if you like it please check out my masterlist for more. Have nice day.

-the author

#boys in the boat #Joe rantz #callum turner #joe rantz x reader #callum turner x reader

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omegalomania · 1 year

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the full apple music interview with zane lowe is out! we got snippets of it when love from the other side dropped, but they finally rolled out the full thing. here are some highlights that stood out to me :)

patrick describes pete's lyrics as what gets him out of bed in the morning. if pete doesn't send him lyrics, he doesn't write a song.

andy and pete used to draw fake snake tattoos on each other using magic markers as kids omg?

so evidently patrick was the one who got covid during hella mega tour. and he hated it and he was miserable and that's when he called neal avron about the new record lmao

patrick says that joe was hesitant at first and he was the one who said that for this record he wanted to make something that they could all savor and spend time on and patrick was immediately on board with that

pete says patrick's job is to interpret him because pete calls his mentality a "little bit off" but patrick is capable of understanding him and translating it

patrick describes his and pete's creative relationship as "twin speak." it's not linear and it's like living in his brain a little bit. he calls it the "weirdest thing i've ever seen" when pete can just Tell that some words that patrick adjusted weren't ones he wrote despite not remembering writing them. patrick says he's gotten better at connective tissue and knowing how pete would say things

pete: back in the day patrick was like, "what's the difference between cry and weep i will KILL YOU. THEY'RE THE SAME THING. I'M GONNA KILL YOU RIGHT NOW."

zane says patrick's vocals are next level for this album. pete agrees that he kills it on this album and said he never would've expected that voice coming from him when they first met. zane says patrick could sing a recipe and it would be good. he then passes patrick a recipe and patrick. sings it???

patrick: i'm not gonna belt it. (starts belting) NINE INCH PIE PLATE ROLLING PIN

patrick says that pete doesn't mean to have rhythm to his words but there's a rhythm to them all the same and patrick can find this syncopation in his words and thinks it's amazing

more talking about patrick and pete's Magical Mystical Transcendent Soul Bond. patrick says "if we were one guy, we'd be an INCREDIBLE DUDE"

patrick and pete say that interviews with all four of them are hard because it's chaos and everyone's talking at once but it all makes perfect sense to them and no one else. zane says that sounds like fun flkjdfd [i agree please do this more it's a joy]

pete says joe really stepped up and wrote a lot for this record!

patrick: "joe is kind of a conundrum because he's this really talented...he's a brilliant writer, a brilliant player, but pete and i became the "team" and it wasn't really a plan, but that's just kind of how it happened. [brief tangent about the hiatus] we come back from the thing and joe is this fully-formed writer with a very distinct - he has one of the most distinctive writing voices. when i hear his parts, when i hear his ideas, i could pick them out of a crowd. like i know the way joe writes, and it's VERY joe." part of the process with post-hiatus was integrating him into the writing process more.

discussing the hiatus and fame and pete says his life kind of "blew up" and took it pretty hard. apparently during production for folie paparazzi actually broke down the gate to neal avron's house

patrick goes on a big tangent about how bad things got during the height of pete's fame. "part of my role is to tell his story. i'm a composer. that's what i like to do. i work on movies, i work on shows, and i work on pete. pete has a story that needs music, and if he's removed from himself, if he's not even able to access himself because he's behind all of this stuff, i don't have a story! so not only did i not have my buddy, which was heartbreaking in its own way, but then i also don't have a purpose as an artist."

patrick says that andy is always ready to play but when you get him happy to play, it's another level

"and trohman, there were these moments where he...he got so excited."

patrick describes writing what a time to be alive as wanting to write the saddest, most desperate song you could hear at a wedding. pete bursts into laughter and calls it "so twisted"

talking about other endeavors outside the band - patrick talks about composing and said joe's been super busy with his book and writing for tv and because there are so many deadlines for stuff like that, it's what hammered home to him that fall out boy needs to not be that. "there's something special about this that can't be...this has to be passionate and art."

discussing how scared patrick was of his own voice while the band took off. patrick was really scared of the song saturday at first because there are some really exposed vocal moments. he describes saturday as a song where everyone in the band lets each other go for it.

zane calls fall out boy the "emo blueprint" and says they were unapologetic in being emotional. patrick immediately says, "that was pete. i don't think we could've done that without him." he and joe were basically kids and patrick was too anxious to talk on stage.

zane says, "i remember interviewing you in the early days and i felt like every time i asked you a question i was bullying you." pete IMMEDIATELY loses his shit.

"in another life where i didn't have a pete...cause saturday, i did write most of that by myself...so there's a world where that song exists without the band. there's no world where i sing it in front of people without pete."

pete says every night before they put out a new song he calls patrick up and gets really scared and wants to back out and patrick talks him down every time

they talk about how scary it was when arm's race released and performing it at the amas. patrick starts laughing rly hard as they get into how there were giant crickets on stage and the crowd was just stone-faced and utterly nonresponsive and their stage manager was utterly panicked

towards the end patrick really loosens up and starts swearing more dlkfjdfd

#fall out boy #*making poasts #they kept being SO SWEET ABOUT EACH OTHER LIKE. I CANT HANDLE IT #patrick and pete are like lets tell everybody about our magical soulbond for 1 hour straight. thanks guys.

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billthedrake · 1 month

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LITTLE BRO'S HOMECOMING

Joseph Murphy didn't even have to knock on the hotel door. He'd texted Kyle to get the room number and as he strode up to 1139 in the downtown Boston hotel, the door opened right up.

Kyle was dressed in his Marines cammies - either he hadn't had time to change since checking in or else he wanted to be in uniform for the older man. A big smile formed on the 21 year old's face. "Hey," he muttered as he stepped aside to let the beefy cop enter.

"Hey yeuself," Joe hissed in his thick New England accent as he stepped right up to the young Marine and placed his hands around the stud's waist, drawing him in.

Their kiss was hot. A tongue heavy, facing sucking kind of kiss. Officer Murphy didn't do finesse, and it turns out Kyle Smith was A-OK with that. It had been TOO long since they'd been together, or even seen each other. They'd had a conversation before Kyle's deployment about whether they were dating. The cop didn't feel comfortable with that, and Joe hadn't even reached out to the Marine over the last few months. It was only an instant reply that Kyle received when he said he was coming home that made him realize there was still a spark there.

More than a spark. Officer Murphy was pawing at the ridge of hard military cock in the camo pants. And Kyle was feeling up all the cop beef through the man's long-sleeve Pats T-shirt. THIS was the young man's type to a T. Some heft on his bones, thick muscle, a beer belly. It had been the body Kyle had been into since he first started jacking off. Joe reminded him of his middle school wrestling coach - and even, if he was honest, of his own father.

Officer Murphy was even a dyed-in-the-wool working class New Englander like Kyle's father, only more brash even.

Indeed, the booming voice came as he backed off. "How's my fuckin' parn stah doin?" the cop bellowed, fingers tracing the long ridge of Marine meat sticking up in the uniform.

"Holy fuck, I missed you, man," Kyle said with a big grin. Maybe that was too much to say, but he felt it.

"I bet ya did," Joe said as he crouched down, fingers already fumbling with the uniform. "I know how to take care of this bad boy."

The cop's fingers felt good as they undid the trousers. "Are we gonna wait?" Kyle asked. "I mean, we said..."

Already the cop's big mitt was on the young stud's boner, pulling it out and gently stroking it. "You got a couple in ya, Corporal," he growled. "Come on, Jesus, four months and ya gonna fuckin' blue ball me?"

Officer Murphy didn't give Kyle a chance to answer. The question was rhetorical anyway. Because already he was taking the thick, long tool into his mouth.

"Oh fuck... fuck yes," Kyle hissed as he felt the police officer's hot wet mouth go down on him. The cop sucked dick like he kissed. No finesse. But it was amazing, especially after no sex for the last four months.

The Marine didn't realize he was carrying around so much tension in his body, but as Joe blew him, he felt himself relax, his stance widening just a little and his hand placed gently on top of the man's medium-short hair. He'd experienced a Joe Murphy BJ in full Boston Police uniform. THAT had been incredible, but even now he loved looking down on the man's thick-set daddy bod, face getting redder as he bobbed up and down more quickly. Kyle was still in full uniform, for his part, and he suspected that was driving Joe wild.

"It's not gonna take me long," Kyle warned.

The cop spit out his cock. "Dont ya dare, buddy." He wiped the spit off his chin with the back of his hand and leaned back. Kyle loved that view of him, the way it showed off Officer Murphy's broad rounded shoulders and massive chest.

Kyle knew what the man meant. He actually didn't have a lot of experience with other men. He'd met Joe Murphy when he was still 18, still a senior in high school. But the sex was electric between them. Joe was such a deeply sexual man, and the cop's hunger for a younger top, a much younger top, fueled Kyle's own lust.

"On the bed, Officer," he hissed.

Joe broke into a huge grin. Standing up, he started undoing his jeans and kicking off his sneakers.

"Keep that fuckin' unifo'm on buddy," he growled.

Kyle nodded. "That's 'Corporal Smith' to you, Officer."

"All right, Corporal," Joe chuckled. "Don't hold back. Just go for it, OK?"

Kyle was getting lightheaded now, he was so horny. Especially seeing Murphy pull off that T and reveal that beefy daddy bod. His big brother had teased him once when he showed him a picture of his cop lover. "You a chaser, Kyle?" Brandon had laughed. Kyle stood his ground those. The beer belly on such a meaty frame did something for him. He liked having a lot of daddy to hold onto.

That lot of daddy was naked now and crawling onto one of the queen beds on all fours. Kyle got in place.

"Aw yeah, eat my hole, Corporal. Aw, fuck yeah... root around with that tongue buddy. Get up in daddy's ass. Oh, fucking nasty, buddy."

Kyle remembered the first time he rimmed Joe Murphy he was worried the man would get freaked out. But it was one of Kyle's favorite things to watch in porn, so he just went for it. As they say, history was made. He and Joe rarely had sex without some ass eating.

Still, both knew it wasn't going to be a long rim session. Their absence had been too long. Kyle leaned back up on his haunches and gave a light slap to the cop's surprisingly smooth rump. Leaning over, he pumped out a couple of squirts of lube, which he applied to his boner, and then to Joe's hole.

The cop wasn't exactly slutty, but he was wanton in taking taking cock. Spreading his legs and wiggling his ass some as Kyle fingered him. Then, as Joe felt that thick piece of Marine cock bore in, he hissed and did his best to relax.

"Easy, buddy... easy... I'm fuckin' tight... ya gotta open daddy back up for business OK?"

"Yeah," Kyle hissed. He didn't want to cum yet. He knew if he could get through the penetration he'd be good for a bit.

Joe's verbal streak quieted down as Kyle slowly penetrated the older man. Murphy had lied about his age when they first met on the app, but the cop was 50. Squarely middle aged. The young man sometimes wondered why he was wired for older men, men like Murphy. But now that he was boning Joe, he didn't feel the need to question, his heart and mind and cock knew this is what he wanted.

Finally his balls pressed against the man's ass.

"God, yes," the Marine hissed. THIS was what a homecoming should be.

"I can feel your uniform against me, Corporal," Joe said in a surprisingly quiet tone. "So very hot."

Kyle held the man's waist. The skin was hot to the touch. "I dreamed about doing this in the barracks," he hissed. "Even fantasized about banging the Master Sergeant."

That got a chuckle from Joe beneath him. "I bet ya did, buddy. Just as I've had the hots for the new rookie on the force. Fresh faced fucker."

Kyle pulled back and pushed back in. Not fast, not yet. But he could feel the cop's insides open up for him, some.

"Anyone else fucking you, Joe?" he asked, an edge to his voice.

The reply was quiet. "A couple, Kyle," the cop answered. "It gets lonely, you know."

"Yeah," Kyle said, sadly. He wished he was the only one. But they'd never had that conversation. This was probably not the time to have it. "Man, I wish we didn't live so far apart."

The next thrust was hard, real hard. It knocked the wind out of Joe a little, and if Kyle hadn't fucked the cop like this before he would have been concerned.

"Give me a sec," Joe finally hissed.

Kyle slowed his roll and watched as the man reached over for his own squirt of lube.

The Marine didn't need to be told to resume fucking. That's how it was between him and Joe. Perfect synchronization of needs. The minute he saw the man reach down to jerk his cock, Kyle started fucking hard. Jack hammer thrusts in and out of the man's now relaxed hole.

"That's it, stud... horse hung Marine gonna fuck my cop ass..."

"Fuckin' take it, Officer," he hissed. Getting into it.

With other men Kyle had fucked it wasn't like this. It was usually fucking for his own pleasure or for the bottom's. But he and Joe Murphy were on the same wavelength, the older man rapidly jerking while Kyle threw his strength into hard fucking the beefy daddy.

Just the sight of the man's bare back, strong and full, and the love handles and the way Joe's face turned redder when he was getting close to cumming. Kyle felt that light headed feeling again and knew the cum was already traveling up his piss tube, pumping out from his balls.

"Oh FUCK!" he whimpered.

"SHIT!" Joe grunted.

Their orgasm was simultaneous. Kyle's body clenched and held still as his dick continued to unload inside the man. It had actually taken a few times to talk Officer Murphy into barebacking, but now he couldn't imagine sex between the two any other way. This was just sex, and it was just the hormones talking, but Kyle was in love with the man.

He started to pull back, but he saw Joe's hand reach back, as if to stop him. "Don't, Kyle... stay in me for a while longer, OK?"

The Marine nodded and placed his hand softly on Joe's lower back, feeling up the clammy sweaty muscle. He wondered if his dick was going to go soft. It usually did after a cum like that, but being connected with the police officer meant it still felt rock hard.

***

Brandon Smith waited in the hotel bar, sipping his beer. He was always a little nervous waiting for Preston, but he was getting that pit-in-his-stomach now. Maybe this was a bad idea.

But it only took the sight of his sorta boyfriend in the mirror to brighten up. Preston Weldman cut the vision of a real executive, as tall as Brandon, and his figure looking fit in slacks and a sport coat. The gray temples were the icing on the cake, so to speak. Brandon felt an instant chub in his jeans.

"Hope you haven't been waiting long," the business exec said as he sidled up to the hunky 32-year-old. He placed a hand on Brandon's shoulder. Not obvious but the touch felt electric between the two men.

"No," Brandon shook his head. "Anyway, it's good people watching here," he said.

Preston smiled. "Scoping out the business daddies?" he whispered. He knew Brandon's type. It was how they'd met each other on an app when Brandon was back home visiting family. Leaning in more, he growled. "You're looking really good, Sergeant Smith."

Brandon's heart pounded. "SO good to see you, Press." That had been his nickname for the man. Then, his eyes sweeping up and down, something clicked. "You're not wearing your wedding ring?"

Preston shrugged. "You disappointed?" he joked. "The divorce isn't final but it feels like it, you know?"

Brandon nodded and with concern asked, "How you doing?"

"We'll talk about it later, OK? We have the whole weekend, right?"

Brandon smiled. Long distance was tough, and there was military life on top of that. But maybe that's what worked for this divorced hunk. He had his own busy career to deal with, and his kids, too. "Yeah. I have some stuff I wanna talk about too."

"Yeah?" Preston replied. "You wanna talk about it now, kiddo?"

Brandon shook his head. "I think the guys are up in the room waiting for us."

Preston's lust was visible on his face, even if he normally had that WASPy repressed thing going on. "Sure you're OK with this?"

Brandon laughed. "I was gonna ask you the same thing, Press." He stood up and set down some cash to pay for his beer. "It'll be way hot."

"You're bringing out my naughty side for sure." Preston was definitely in a good mood.

Brandon leaned in and whispered. "How do you think I feel? He's my brother." Then he pulled back and gave a wink to the man before grabbing his overnight bag. "Come on, let's go up."

Even on the elevator ride up, the two couldn't keep their eyes off each other. Preston still couldn't believe he'd scored a young man as hot as Brandon Smith. 6'3" ex-football jock, his body honed by years in the US Marine Corps. The 26-year-old was like a porn character come to life. The superstitious, or realist, part of Preston knew this affair was on borrowed time, that Brandon would move on. But he'd sure as hell enjoy the ride.

***

Joe had dozed off but the knock on the hotel room woke him up. He was naked in the damp, disheveled hotel bed. The kid had gone for seconds, all right, and the middle-aged cop felt well and truly fucked. Like, a sleepy, tired and satisfied level of truly fucked.

The man felt bad for telling Kyle about the hookups he'd had. But he didn't want to hold back from the young man. Besides, there had just been two men over the last few month. They hadn't meant a thing and certainly couldn't hold a candle to Kyle fuckin' Smith.

Another knock came. Louder.

"All right," Joe called out. "Coming!"

He jumped out of the bed and sauntered over to the door. He could hear the shower running, and realized Kyle was in there.

Brandon and Preston were surprised to see the door fling open to reveal the full nakedness of a thick-set 50-ish man they'd never met. Lightly furred front, soft dick dangling beneath.

"Come in, fellas," Joe said. "Kyle's in the shower." Unceremoniously he turned and let the men indoors.

It took a second for Joe to pick up on their reaction. "Why be shy, right?" he said in his thick accent. He flashed an impish smile. "I can cover up if it bothers you though."

"Guess you're right," Brandon said. He held out his hand. "I'm Brandon."

Joe took the hand in his own strong mitt and shook it. "Definitely see the family ressemblance."

"Joe," the cop said.

"Preston," the businessman said as he greeted the cop.

"Jesus what the fuck kind of name is Preston?" Joe quipped.

Brandon got angry. Protective and angry. "We can call this off," he said through gritted teeth.

"Call what off?" came Kyle's voice as he stepped out, towel wrapped around his waist.

Preston's eyes noticeably showed excitement. If he had to pick, he'd choose Brandon's body, but Kyle had a shorter, more compact build that was scrlpted with tight, rounded young muscle.

Kyle immediately picked up on the vibe. "Jesus, Joe. Did you shoot off your mouth again?"

The cop looked genuinely contrite. "Sorry fellas. Guess I'm shitty at first impressions. Preston," he said, turning to the other daddy in the group. "I'm sorry man. Really. That was a shitty thing to say."

"All right," he said in a clipped Yankee accent. "I guess we're not here on a date or anything," he joked.

Joe nodded. "Yeah, the Smith brothers are the stars of the weekend, right?"

Brandon looked at Kyle. "You guys already get started?" he asked his brother.

Kyle nodded. "Yeah, couldn't wait, sorry."

Brandon turned to look at his lover. "I wouldn't mind a little one-on-one time with Press first."

"Yeah, babe?" Preston asked. He wasn't sure how this scene would play out. But as much as he wanted to see Kyle in action, he was drawn to Brandon first and foremost.

The hunky marine pulled Preston closer to him, then guided his arms around the man's waist to draw him into a kiss. It was soft and sensual. Brandon Smith was SUCH an amazing kisser, and inspired Preston to give his best in return.

"We can give ya guys some space," Joe spoke up. Amused to see a version of what he and Kyle had just experienced.

"Yah," Brandon almost said. Only Press' hand gripped his arm.

"It's OK if they watch babe," he said. The older man had a playful look on his face. "I kind of want 'em to."

Brandon looked at Preston in amusement. This buttoned-down divorced dad had a way of surprising him. "OK, he said.

Kyle was still in his towel as he sat on the bed, feeling Joe settle in behind him. The cop's mitts felt good feeling up his ripped Marine muscles. If Kyle hadn't just fucked the man, twice, he'd be boning up fast.

"You OK with this, Kyle?" Brandon asked.

Kyle nodded. "Go for it, bro. It'll be hot to see you guys."

That was all the green light it took for Brandon and Preston. It was like it was just them, alone in the room, even as they were also aware of putting on a show. They slowly stripped each other and made out.

About the only thing to break the spell was the cop's outburst when Brandon removed Press's button-down shirt, revealing a DILF-y gym-toned body.

"Holy fucking shit, he's a frickin' magazine model."

The cop's loudmouth approach had rubbed him the wrong way, but now he enjoyed having Preston's amazing body recognized.

The lovers were soon naked and Brandon was reclining them down on the other bed. Kissing softly even as their bodies humped more urgently. They were matched in height, but Brandon had some more muscle on him, and Preston was feeling up every inch with his hands.

Soon the older man was parting his legs, letting Brandon's body find that spot between them. Their kissing grew more impassioned, until Brandon leaned up.

"Fuck you feel so good, Press," he sighed. "I love ya, man."

"Love you, too, Big B." This was the only thing that made Preston self conscious about having an audience. But he knew this was part of sex between him and Brandon. The emotional openness.

"I need to be inside you, Dad," Brandon hissed.

"Please," Preston said. "I need you, Son."

Joe felt Kyle's body tense in his arms. The cop was a pervy enough man that the dad-son play didn't phase him. But he sensed it hit differently for Kyle. This was his brother, talking about "Dad." Joe just held the 21-year-old tight against him and kissed the side of his neck.

"OK?" he whispered.

"Yeah," Kyle whispered back.

Then Joe felt Kyle's hand grip his forearm, pulling it down. Joe thought the kid was rejecting his embrace but instead Kyle guided Joe's hand lower, right to the towel, where there was a ridge of hard dick. The kid was turned on.

"Jesus, it's a like a Lifetime movie," Joe almost said, but restrained himself. Everything was so frickin sensuous between the other couple. Even the lubing of cocks and the fingering of Preston's hole. The man was glas Kyle was into more animalistic fucking. The kid always had been, even at 18.

At last the divorced exec lifted his toned legs, and Brandon gingerly positioned the ankles on his meaty shoulders. The two locked eyes, silently, lovingly.

And Brandon entered his daddy lover.

Preston winced at entry but after a second, his hands were on Brandon's muscle ass, coaxing him to push in further.

"Not gonna last long today, Dad," Brandon hissed. "You feel so fucking good."

"We got all weekend, Son," Press countered. Before Brandon he didn't enjoy bottoming. Hell, the times he fooled around with men he usually preferred getting head. But this Marine had a way of rocking his world, turning it upside down. Of making him want cock like this. "Fuck me. Fuck your father."

Brandon let out a low deep grunt and powered in. Slowly, sensually at first. God he was SO turned on. Being with Press, hearing that roleplay talk. But also know his little bro was watching. "I'm gonna go a little harder, sir," he hissed.

"Do it!" Press urged.

And like that came a serious of slow, rough thrusts.

"Yes!" the exec grunted. Only Brandon could make him love it like this, too. Hard, with a roughness to each inward push of that meaty cock. "Attaboy."

Brandon had a few trigger words and that was one of them. He knew orgasm was coming now. So he humped more excitedly, hard stokes working to get himself off with this perfect man's ass.

"Yeah, Dad," he hissed. "Gonna cum!"

He felt Press's hands caress his sides, encouraging him to give it up.

"UNNGH!" Brandon grunted and unloaded.

"Yes!" Press said excitedly. He loved watching his Big B cum, loved seeing that mix of youthful masculinity and almost childish need. Already he was stroking his dick to get his own nut.

Brandon took a second to come down from the high but when he did he started working his dick in and out of Press's warm hole. Fucking slowly but hard, the way Press liked it.

The older man wasn't a loud cummer, but Brandon knew how to read the signs. Sure enough. the middle-aged man's body clenched and white hot sperm flew out. Preston Weldman came a lot when he orgasmed.

Brandon pulled out and only then was self conscious that his brother and his brother's lover were looking on.

Kyle had a look that was clearly horny and maybe a little embarrassed. "Why don't we give you some space, Bro?" he said quietly.

The older brother rolled off Preston's body. "We freak you out, Kyle? I guess I should have warned you that we do the roleplay thing."

Joe spoke up. "Don't let the kid fool ya, he loved that shit."

"Jesus, Joe," Kyle objected. But the man was right.

Preston leaned up. He felt a strange fondness for Kyle, a dude he'd never met. "Kyle, it took me a while to get into it." He ran his hand up and down Brandon's strong back. "I don't know... your brother's a persuasive man."

"Eight inches is a lot of persuasion," Joe quipped. He'd just witness the other brother's endowment, and Brandon was as hung as Kyle, for sure.

"Joe, what the fuck?" Kyle pestered. But Brandon and Preston were smirking.

"Fuckin' Christ. What the fuck are we for? It's supposed to be a fun weekend, right?" He patted Kyle's chest affectionately and gave a soft, contrite kiss. "Come on, let's go get a pint and we can talk more at the pub." The cop pulled his meaty body back from his younger lovers and stepped off the bed. "Apparently we need to talk about 'ground rules' or some bullshit," he bellowed.

Brandon had to admit the policeman was growing on him.

#drakestories

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chemevan · 10 months

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did some self care (doodling fall out boy)

some closeups!

number 1 - joe and tricky being silly

number 2 - joe with pete's dog hemmingway, a doodle of patrick i made when i found out his favorite game is megaman x and epic sweaty boy soul punk rick

number 3 - i love the what a catch mv what can i say, and fur out boy patreece but pre hiatus era

number 4 - andy and patrick being silly and everyone's favorite male shawty

number 5 - despite how this looks this is NOT ship art , i just find funny that pete always talks about patrick like he's "his other half, his best buddy, his main man" and patrick is more of the guy to give you random sea creature fun facts and then say "yeah pete's my friend"

number 6 - patrick and travie! this is my first time drawing travie but i actually like how he turned out

#fob #fall out boy #patrick stump #joe trohman #pete wentz #andy hurley #fur out boy #soul punk #half doomed and semi sweet #travie mccoy #gym class heroes #fob fanart #fob art #fanart #my art #furry bandom tag

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hamburgerhelpersotherhand · 1 month

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Infatuation P13

Joe Goldberg x Reader x Love Quinn

Masterlist

Warnings: post murder, drugging.

Notes: Wait... it cannot be... the final part of Infatuation? Posted? Pinch me, I must be dreaming! This has actually been sitting in my drafts for years. Not kidding. Ever since I finished Part 12, this has been collecting dust. Please enjoy, as I prepare some other goodies...

To put it simply, I’m frozen.

My instincts have me searching the room rapidly, but an emotional pull draws me to Love’s wide-eyed stare. She’s crouched by someone who’s laying limply on the floor. Well, I know they’re not just laying there. With that amount of blood, they’re surely… dead…?

I— I shake my head. No, no. Focus, observe.

The reasonable part of my brain tells me Love had something to do with it, but I can’t help but hold off on the assumption. Love couldn’t. She—

She stands and I feel myself stiffen. As she makes her way toward me, Im drawn to the blood staining her sleeve. I visibly gulp.

“I-It was self defence.” She says, nodding her head as though she were trying to convince herself as much as she were trying to convince me. She‘s making herself small, caving in with partially hunched shoulders and hands that don’t quite fit comfortably by her sides.

My god, she really did it. I could’ve believed the lie if I hadn’t seen the evidence caked on her… or looked at whatever remained of the neck, but I crouch and reach for the corpse’s face anyway.

When I drag her sticky hair out of the way, I feel an odd sense of satisfaction and relief. Now, I don’t have to worry about Candace… but this isn’t really any better. Love— she’s… she just took a life, and with a witness too.

I glance to you and Love drops the locker door behind us. I flinch.

“Does anyone else know you’re here?” I ask Love, feigning a calm demeanour. On the inside, I want to tear her apart— but I need a clear idea of what’s happening. You’re… here too. I can’t risk doing something drastic while you’re still in the room and looking this way.

“No.” She replies dryly before stepping back. “A-actually, yeah. Her phone—“.

“Do you have it?” I ask. When I glance back and up toward Love, she slips it out of her pocket and holds the device loosely toward me.

I take the device and examine Love’s face at the same moment. She seems erratic, so I tell myself that keeping myself together could benefit her as well, I need to be our anchor… lest I wake what’s underneath.

I place the phone in-front of Candace’s face and it unlocks.

“Check the call history.” Love rushes to suggest.

I look at her and squint. “…Why?”

“Someone called her.” Love says, and I’m already rubbing my forehead out of anxious habit. Oh, for fucks sake.

“Who?” I ask, shaken.

Love blinks, her expression shifting angrily. “I don’t know, Will—! I picked it up and I didn’t recognize any of it!”

“W-What did they say?” I stand up, looking at Love for answers. I’m getting frustrated.

She hesitates for a moment, but I can see she’s trying to wrap her head around it. “They said ‘get out of there’.”

I start scrolling through the call history with a shiver. All along the way, I see Forty’s name, and at the very top— the very last call received- I recognize the unnamed number.

I take out your phone, and open it swiftly. Love watches me and leans in curiously. And wouldn’t you know it, that same mysterious number litters your history too.

“This number called? It’s all over Y/N’s phone.”

“Wh-what the fuck does that mean?” Love asks me, stuttering and furrowing her brows like it’ll get her an answer. But then she looks to you.

“What the fuck does it mean? Who is that?-“

“Calm down.” I immediately regret my statement when Love’s face whips to look at me. She grimaces but hesitates to open her mouth. For the first time tonight, I see Love catch herself from what I can only assume is dawning realization that she looks and sounds absolutely ballistic.

“Why is she locked in that cage?” Love whines out about you, and I don’t know how to feel. She’s making me the villain, pointing fingers, but may I remind everyone in the room of who’s covered in fucking blood? You’re trapped in this glass container because I got carried away and made a selfish decision... but she did something worse, wouldn’t you agree? But stating this isn’t going to help anyone, especially our hysterical guest over here.

“I did this for you.” I reply instead, my voice just above a whisper. Love’s face softens into one I’ve seen countless times before. Yet… something in me has changed. I don’t feel warm when I see it anymore.

“We’ll get out of this.” She mutters, wiping at her eyes as though something were actually there. “We just— we just have to clean up a bit, yeah?”

And in an almost comical fashion, we both turn our heads to the cage— but more specifically… toward you.

You sit still in your corner. Your eyes are open and blown wide.

“We need to clean up...” Love mumbles again, this time drifting off as she observes you fondly. I can’t help but stare at her with an astonished look in my eye. She’s insane and it’ll be my unfortunate responsibility to do something about it.

“There’s some flunitrazepam in the desk.” I regrettably say, and a part of me feels terrible over the mere implications that flash through Love’s mind.

“I don’t even want to know why you have that.” She nearly spits, changing her demeanour once again. I have to clench my fists by my sides not to absolutely lose it in such a sensitive and integral moment. Love carefully makes her way to the desk and shuffles through the drawers.

In a minute, Love’s standing in front of the cage’s door, uncapping the water cup I got for you.

“Y/N. Look at me.” Love says. “You see this?” She holds a small grey pellet in between her index and thumb. “Im going to put it in this,” She wiggled the cup lightly, “and you’re going to drink it.”

You shake your head horribly, trying to shrink further into the corner.

“This is the easy way, Y/N. The hard way is going to hurt a lot more.” Love looks to you sympathetically. “Don’t take the hard way, babe.”

Babe… I gulp.

You don’t let up. You’re standing your ground and being stubborn, and I can see Love’s not having it. But you’re — you’re traumatized. I know you are because, hell, even I’m shocked at the scene I’ve stumbled into. We’re discovering something about Love we hadn’t known before… and it’s not easy. It’s never easy. Love takes in a deep shaky breath before facing me.

“Force her.” A shiver runs up my spine, and I hesitate. It’s not like she and I have gone through this before, had a plan, or even discussed the implications of her… hard way… but I think I know what she wants.

As I pull the key out from my pocket and unlock the door, I watch you cower. You’re just scared, but there’s really nothing to be scared of anymore… well, actually… I glance at Love.

“We can’t waste time, come on.” She says.

I step through and observe you for a moment. You try to stand up and I see it in your subtle move to get away that you'd expected to dodge me, but I’m quicker than you thought and you don’t have much room to wander. I hold my arm out and you run into it, allowing me to spin you around and firmly hold your arms to your sides and your back to my chest. My free hand simply grabs your jaw and squeezes.

Love steps into the cage as well, holding the cup in her hand and a face of… disappointment? Or maybe it’s shame, from the way I’m holding you still against your will.

“Y/N, I… I gave you options, okay? You chose this for yourself and we have to go through with it so we can move past it.” Her words are meant to reassure you that things could’ve been better, but I can’t help but feel as though she’s unlawfully justifying drugging you to herself.

As she gets closer, your squirming and panic gets worse. It’s not much to fight off, you never have been difficult to hold down.

Love’s hand takes my place and grips your jaw. You whimper, of course, and it’s such a gentle sound. You must be tired. She holds the cup to your parted lips and begins to tilt it into your open mouth. You sputter for a moment, and then your eyes shut tight.

“She’s not swallowing it.” Love grits and discards the empty cup. She loosens the grip on your jaw and, with her free hand, pushes your chin up to shut your mouth. Come on, Y/N… it shouldn’t be this difficult.

Love gently caresses your cheek and allows her hand to slide downward. I watch over your shoulder as her fingers run across your neck and, with a precise flick to your throat, you whine.

“You have to swallow.” Love states sternly as she tilts your head back some more. “Then it’ll be over.” You whimper again and I bite my cheek.

After another minute of your resistance, you start to move and it finally goes.. all the way… down.

It’s not long before you slump in my hold and I sit you up against a wall to think. What happens now?

I glance to a container of plastic bags. I wrap the body up, bring it out of town. A quick look to the phone in my pocket reminds me. I cover her tracks. But wait… teeth, finger prints, hair. Did Love take Candace’s car? And the messages… We can be compromised before we’ve even left the building.

When I look to Love, she’s nervously pacing back and forth. When she stops in front of me, I realize she’s been talking. “Are you even listening—?!” she panics. “Oh my god, we're so fucked!” Love grabs at her hair and looks around.

She doesn’t know what she’s doing, and I begin to wonder what our relationship will be like now. This isn’t going to work. My heart starts to race and I begin to heat up. She’s not meant for this. Will she let you go? I think we have to let her go.

I don’t hesitate to grab Love by the collar of her shirt and shove her against the glass cage.

"NO — W-WAIT," she tries to scream. My hands find her throat but before I can squeeze, she shouts.

“I’M PREGNANT!” and I still as my blood runs cold. My eyes run down her body then, quickly.

“You’re…” I hesitate to repeat after her, my terrifying future flashing before my eyes as my hands pull her closer by her shirt. I breathe out as my eyes meet hers again. I witness the… worry? Fear? Somewhere in her swirling sight, I feel exposed to sincerity. She’s telling the truth.

My arms fall limp to my sides, my attention growing dull. As my head swirls with thoughts, she slips out of reach. My eyes follow her movements until they settle on you, slouched, unconscious.

“I know how to fix this,” Love sniffs, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “Just — please… take care of the body.”

#joe goldberg #joe goldberg x reader #love quinn x reader #love quinn #yandere #yandere x reader #x reader

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thosewildcharms · 2 months

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Hi:) thanks to twol I fell in love with richonne and im watching twd and I couldn't tell when exactly they fell in love when do you think it was? When did they realize it? (I feel like rick knew it long before her in that 6x10ep he was like "finally" when they kissed)

hi! first of all let me just say I love the fact that you started watching because of richonne lol THEIR POWER. how are you enjoying both shows??

second of all, thank you so much for asking me this question, because it is one of my favorite things to think about.

I'm gonna start with michonne because I think it's way more clear cut for her. I have always personally believed that she fell in love with rick when he bit the shit out of that guy joe's throat in order to protect carl (and michonne and daryl for that matter). danai recently said this as well, - that while this was a subconscious turning point for michonne. I think this tracks, considering the show goes out of its way to use this moment to draw a direct comparison between rick and mike, michonne's ex/dead boyfriend. in her scene with carl in the immediate aftermath of the bite scene, she tells carl that it's important to know how her first son died: because his father gave up, got high and was too weak and neglectful to protect his child. she, essentially, tells carl that rick is the exact opposite of that, and that he shouldn't think badly of rick because of what he did (and in turn, shouldn't think badly of himself either, which is lovely), that instead of thinking of rick as a monster, he should know that what rick did was necessary. for michonne to lose her first child that way, only to see rick find a way to protect his family with both hands (literally) tied behind his back? of course she fell in love with him then. that moment on the tracks with rick right afterwards ("I'm okay"/"I know"/"how?/ "because I'm okay too") is also a direct comparison to lori. lori was horrified when she learned that rick killed shane. michonne, by contrast, is just grateful. she does not judge him or look at him any differently. she just loves him for it. and the way danai played it, I think you can see it on her face in that scene.

I do agree with danai that this was subconscious for michonne until the scene on the couch in 6x10. the look on her face is such a blatant "oh" moment straight out of fanfiction that it's pretty clear (to me, anyway) that while she was already in love with him this was the first time she allowed herself to see it.

rick I think is a bit harder to pin down. it's well documented by pretty much everyone and their mother (including but not limited to: the richonne fandom, yvette nicole brown, norman reedus, andrew's lincoln's mom, etc) that rick was, at the very least attracted to michonne and looking her up and down as early as the prison. but, I think he fell in love with her when they reunited after the prison fell, when he saw that she was able to reach carl in a way that he himself could not. a long standing concern for rick at that point was trying to preserve what was left of carl's innocence, and it was something rick struggled with due to his own mental health issues/his responsibilities as a leader. so to see michonne break through to carl, and even make him laugh on the train tracks and act like a kid again? I think that was everything to rick.

rick basically, quite literally actually, asks her to co-parent carl with him at that point (the "if you need a break/I'm done taking breaks" scene), and from then on treats her not just as his equal within the larger the group, but as a co-parent in the smaller family unit between himself, michonne, carl, and judith. he makes decisions for the entire group based on her opinion and her needs (such as walking to washington solely because she asks him to, and then agreeing with her decision to trust aaron and go to alexandria). it's where the shift starts for him.

but, I'm also inclined to think that this shift was subconscious for rick too, up until the moment on the couch, or maybe just before it. I say this mostly do the jessie arc when they first get to alexandria, which while sloppily done, basically boiled down to rick projecting all of his unresolved lori-shaped guilt onto a lori-shaped stand in. I don't think he could be consciously aware of being in love with michonne until all of those issues were resolved. notably, richonne get together the episode right after jessie dies, so I think that tracks. I agree though, that the way andy played that moment on the couch be seen as a finally moment. so my best guess is that he consciously realized he was in love with michonne during the (two month? is that right?) time gap betweeen 6x09 and 6x10. you can see in the opening of 6x10 that rick, michonne, and carl are really overtly domestic and settled with each other, so I think it's totally plausible he was aware of his own feelings by that episode before the couch scene. BUT I also think an argument can be made for him also having his own oh moment on the couch too, the minute he touched her hand. I think that's debatable.

anyway, I'm so sorry for writing this novel lmao. when do you think they fell in love with each other?

#richonne #the ones who live #twd #answered #i love them sfm

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locusfandomtime · 9 months

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Fake logo designs of various districts/companies in Hermitcraft S8! Something about Hermitcraft brings out the graphic designer in me (*cough* it’s because I love worldbuilding and making tiny details in a world) anyway!

Design notes under cut! (Alongside some headcanons - it is quite long)

Horse Head Farms: this is the logo that started this idea basically. I got such a cool image of an eclipse with a repeated b+w horse head pattern and I really wanted to make it happen. M.C. Esher has done designs like these but as tiles, which I used as inspiration. I think I could have made it look a bit clearer but for my first time drawing something like this I’m pretty happy. The text is from one of the default Procreate fonts and kinda makes HHF look like a law firm (which is the vibe I was going for, soul-stealers and lawyers are often sorta linked in fiction, and supposedly xB and Hypno are their own legal team). xB and Hypno are the only employees other than the people they blackmail into doing stuff for them.

Big Eyes: I wanted a red eyeball as a reference to Tango’s amazing prank on Boatem and I imagine it’s a goofy little mascot for the company. Some big goofy text felt fitting alongside this. I wanted to make a Pass n Gas specific logo too but I wanted to focus on the main “districts” rather than specific shops. I feel like this is kind of obvious but in-universe Big Eyes are VERY unsuccessful and actively losing money.

Hohenzollern Castle: not really a company but Joe and Cleo are cool so I wanted to include them and I had a tiny bit of blank space left on the page so here we are. I actually really love how the sign looks, the wood texture came out nice. They don’t have a logo as much as they do a sign outside their area, created by Joe, with the text written by Joe’s dyes. The “Hohenzollern” is kinda squished because he began to run out of room but was too stubborn to split the word in half. Cleo argues that it isn’t a logo and is just a sign with the castle’s name on it. Joe argues back with a deconstruction of “what is a logo, really?” and something about companies and capitalism and Cleo doesn’t care enough to respond.

Octagon: I am a fool who initially thought it was spelt “Octogon” and had to fix it well after I finished. Oh well. I wanted this to have a very evil look about it. You can instantly tell they’re the evil tech company running experiments on the quantum realm or whatever in a Hollywood movie. Between the unsafe work conditions and the tax fraud, it is a miracle they haven’t been shut down (reason: the government is scared of Doc)

The Evil Empire: the “the” wouldn’t fit so I had to make some sacrifices. Evil Xisuma is dramatic and edgy so he wanted the logo to be in fancy black calligraphic medieval looking text. It fits the evil castle aesthetic the whole area has pretty well too. The Evil Empire is kinda like a Hot Topic store and a Renaissance Fair combined, but it is also involved with Crypto. Despite being so weird it has a perfect niche of marketing to edgy teenagers so it is quite successful. The employees hate it there because their work mandated uniform is to “dress like an evil minion”. Jevin is a slime monster, Wels cosplays a knight and Beef turned into an alien so they thankfully didn’t have to change.

Boatem (BTM): heavily inspired by Grian’s simplified logo he made in Minecraft, where he shortened it to BTM. Despite already having a reference to work off, this was the hardest design. I knew I wanted it to be simple, all-white and leaning back dramatically but I spent ages fiddling with it. Boatem is the most successful company, being perfect for the general public and their shopping district a tourist destination in of itself. It nearly went into bankruptcy when Mumbo was CEO but has been very successful since his Robot took over.

Zedaph Laboratories: my favourite design. Hand writing the text was a nightmare but it came together nicely other than that. Sheep symbol because sheep are his brand. I used the same colour palette as his laboratory. “Laboratory” is misspelled for two reasons: 1) I realised my mistake too late to change it, 2) I think it is completely in character for Zedaph to not know how to spell laboratory and only realise after Tango points it out and be forever haunted by his mistake. Don’t let the sleek corporate design fool you, Zedaph is still wild and is the only person in the “Zedaph Labratories”.

#btw I did this on procreate rather than photoshop #and it was such a pain. Procreate is better for drawing imo but text editing and transformation options are so limited #locus fandom time #locus art time #long post #how the hell am I supposed to tag this lmao #Hermitcraft #hermitcraft s8 #hermitblr #Boatem #horse head farms #Zedaph #logo design #graphic design #fanart #hermitcraft fanart

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enigmatist17 · 4 months

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It's the bandage he sees first, the huge bandage that was covering more area than it should have. He doesn't see red, and the tightness in his chest that had sat there when he and Chin got the call from Max that Steve was in his apartment.

He appears to have been stabbed.

That's all that had been rotating in Danny's mind the agonizing drive over, but Steve was standing and surprised to see the two.

"What the hell is the matter with you? What is the matter with you?!"

Steve's shoulders slump at the beginning of his rant, but Danny is not concerned with that.

"Breaking outta jail, taking out a cop?! Have you lost your mind?!"

Danny knows the answer is yes, both for Steve and himself the prick.

"Why you yelling at me?" Danny can't help but internally soften at the adorable questioning face he hadn't seen for far too long, but it'll be a snowy day in Hawaii before he ever admits it.

"I'm not yelling at you!"

"Actually, you were expressing yourself in a very loud manner."

"Hey, zip it Kermit." Max blinks, unaware that one doesn't interject themselves into a Danny Williams bitching session. Well, unless you know how to that is, Kelly finally stepping in to prevent their shouting match from drawing very much unneeded attention. They aren't together for long, the man called Joe that no one trusted giving the least amount of information possible having McGarrett jumping at the bit to go.

Danny despises this, but knows right now is not the time to push too hard, so he follows his fearless leader.

The day feels like its lasted a month by the time McGarrett is proven innocent, Wo Fat is established to have been behind the Governor's murder, and the Five-0 is mostly reinstated. The sun is dipping below the horizon when Danny and Steve pile into his car, the Jersey detective cursing how far forward his seat was as Steve piled into the backseat.

"You better take those boots off, I'm not cleaning the inside of my windows again." He chided, only hearing a faint chuckle from his partner.

"I am too tired to unlace them."

"Then you're cleaning this time."

"Deal."

Seat adjusted and a rolled up sweatshirt tossed in the backseat, Danny begins the drive to his partners house. He can hear Steve pass out before he's out of the parking lot, but rambles on regardless about how life had been during the shit show of the last few weeks.

Steve wakes when he feels the car pull to its final stop, jerking up when the door at his feet opens a moment later.

"Hey, relax Rambo." Danny is positioned away from the car, giving a little wave. "C'mon, I'm not dragging your ass up the stairs and causing any stitches to pop open."

"Stitches can be replaced." Steve shrugged, slowly pulling himself up and out of the car with a grumble. "You don't have to pull a mother hen."

"Me? Mother hen? Shut up." Said stitches ached when he was up on his feet, and for once in his life, Steve doesn't notice Danny move to suddenly be a support. "Get those feet movin', we don't have all night." Steve rolled his eyes, but dutifully follows Danny up and inside his remarkably dust-free place.

"No dust?"

"Figured you have a maid service." Danny shrugs, and points to the bathroom. "Shower, and I'll get you some fresh clothes because you stink right now."

"I promise I have smelled worse." Steve chuckled softly, but is more than happy to take his first non-public shower that didn't require his head on a swivel. Max's stitches were top-notch for something done on the fly, and is amused to find it's most likely going to leave an almost lighting bolt shaped scar.

He doesn't remember much past stepping out of the shower, blinking to find himself now in bed and dressed in his loungewear. The bed is dipping slightly from someone lying next to him, and he doesn't even have to look to know who it is, the familiar scent of cheap coffee, sandalwood and a Jersey local made cologne that Danny always insisted on having shipped. He's watching something on a tablet he'd left during one of his first visits, chuckling to himself, and Steve just idly listens as the pull of sleep slowly pulls him under.

"You better be sleepin'." Danny's voice is as tender as Steve has ever heard, the detective humming as he starts another episode.

"mhm..." It's not his best response, but Danny takes mercy by running a hand through his hair.

"You're gonna need a haircut soon, but one day at a time eh? Now go back to sleep." There's another soft noise before Danny feels Steve go lax once again, the detective keeping the slow rhythm going as the hours tick by. As far as he's concerned, Steve is back where he needs to be, and all is well on this pineapple hellhole of an island.

As close to perfection as it was going to be.

#personal #mcdanno #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #I am rotating them in my brain like a rotisserie chicken #absolutely feral

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fannyyann · 3 months

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Aleksander Barkov's impact on the Panthers, and how he's taken the mantle as best two-way player in the NHL Dimitri Filipovic

Patrice Bergeron’s departure from the NHL this past summer obviously left a massive opening atop the Boston Bruins depth chart down the middle that would be difficult to fill, which they’ve remarkably done one heck of a job of patching together thus far.

But it also created a void every bit as glaring atop the Selke Trophy conversation as well. He’d won the award in each of the past two seasons quite decisively, totalling 187 out of 196 possible first-place votes last season. Even as he crept into his late 30s, he truly cemented himself as the gold standard of two-way excellence, consistently operating at a level that was simply unmatched by his peers.

His retirement created an opportunity for someone from the current crop to step up and take that mantle though, and if the first 30 games or so this year are any indication, that role appears to have been filled rather admirably by Aleksander Barkov.

It’s certainly fitting that it would be him, considering that he’s the last active player to have won the award, but the heights he’s taken his game to in doing so are still awfully impressive.

What he’s doing right now would make even Bergeron blush, distancing himself from pretty much everyone else at his position much like his predecessor had made a habit of doing. The on-ice numbers Barkov boasts right now are downright staggering. In his 323 5-on-5 minutes, here’s how the Florida Panthers have fared:

Goals: 23-5 differential

High Danger Chances: 74-46 differential

Shots: 60.5 percent share

Expected Goals: 61.0 percent share

To put his dominance into even further context, he’s already scored six times himself, which means that he’s currently scored more goals than he’s allowed all of his opponents to muster combined. It’s also worth noting that without him out there, the Panthers are getting outscored 38-29. How they play with him on the ice and without him are two entirely different things, which speaks to his impact. He does it with the degree of difficulty ratcheted all the way up, chewing up heavy minutes against the other team’s top players while shouldering an immense amount of responsibility.

And despite all of that, he’s still taken just three penalties (while drawing six of his own), finding a way to artfully poke and prod constantly with that pole vaulting apparatus he calls a hockey stick without ever crossing the line. It’s legitimately impressive that he can legally challenge puck carriers with the sheer volume of stick checks that he does, considering how much the league has mandated cracking down on anything even remotely near the hands. It allows him to craftily execute takeaways, while still staying on the ice, which is doubly important for a Panthers team that takes a bunch of penalties otherwise. That seems like a small perk in the grand scheme of things, but it actually ranks as one of my favourites about his game.

He’s spent the majority of the season with Sam Reinhart and Evan Rodrigues on his flanks, and that trio has been the best line in hockey. In just under 200 minutes together, they’re up 19-3. Rodrigues has been underrated for years, and it’s great to see him finally find a long-term fit this season in Florida. Reinhart is tied with Kyle Connor for fourth in goals, currently on pace to score 50 times. The timing of his spike in shooting percentage couldn’t be better in a contract year, but he’s been so good for so long now, that he deserves to be rewarded for it. Plus, he’s such a smart player that I could see him aging quite gracefully into his 30s, the way that someone like Joe Pavelski has.

I love both players, so don’t take it as diminishing their contributions when I say that the reason all of it is possible for Florida is because of Barkov. His skill set is so unique, and such an enabler for everyone in his orbit.

youtube

The two things that the Panthers have become synonymous with as an organization during this run of success have been a) their supremely aggressive forechecking, and b) their uncanny ability to keep bringing in castoffs from other teams and immediately juicing their production beyond what we had any reason to believe they were capable of at this point.

What they’ve been able to pull off to start the season almost surely hasn’t received nearly enough nationally. The team started the year without having Aaron Ekblad and Brandon Montour available for the first 15 games, who are clearly two of their three best defenders (you’ll see them referred to as their two best, but that’s Gustav Forsling erasure and we don’t stand for that here). Yet they’re currently 17-9-2 on the season, sitting in a tie with the Colorado Avalanche for eighth in the league in points percentage, with the sixth best goal differential. And despite those early absences, much of that success can be directly attributed to the team’s defensive performance.

Only the Vegas Golden Knights, Winnipeg Jets, and Vancouver Canucks are giving up fewer goals than them at 5-on-5, and they’re sixth in fewest goals against surrendered on a per-minute basis overall. According to Sportlogiq, here’s how they grade out in all of the key categories we care about:

Expected Goals Against: 3rd

Slot Shots: 2nd

Inner Slot Shots: 5th

Offensive Zone Possession Time Allowed: 2nd

By any important marker, they’ve graded out as one of the best defensive teams in the league. Which almost seems impossible based on the aforementioned injuries, and the personnel they’ve largely leaned on along the way. Their top four players in total 5-on-5 ice time so far are Forsling, Niko Mikkola, Oliver Ekman Larsson, and Dmitri Kulikov. The three latter names were free agent signings, who they were able to bring in this past summer for a combined $5.75 million. So how exactly are the Panthers able to keep churning out these types of results then?

Every possible explanation keeps circling back to Barkov, because he represents the throughline that ties everything together for them. The reason why everyone they bring in thrives is because they get to play such a simple, fun brand of hockey. All they’re required to do is to keep unapologetically plowing ahead aggressively, and relentlessly, over and over again.

The wingers are asked to forecheck as hard as they can, closing off walls and forcing the other team to try to make plays up the middle. That plays right into Barkov’s waiting hands, where his range allows him to cover ground like a ball-hawking safety in football. The defencemen get to pinch down the wall and try to extend plays in the offensive zone, knowing that Barkov will be there to cover them with support because he religiously stays above the puck.

Barkov's 10 goals and 28 points in 25 games are obviously fantastic, and 99 percent of players in the league would kill to have that stat line. That said, it feels like he's capable of so much more offensively because of how much raw puck skill he possesses. And he honestly probably is, if he were wired differently. But whereas some of his peers may cheat for offence and stay deep in the zone until the last possible second to see possible scoring plays through to their conclusion, he instead circles back to get into the right position defensively proactively.

It's a calculated sacrifice on his part, and it's because of those choices he routinely makes that the scales get tilted in his teammates' favour. Regardless of who you are, because of his habits you now get to freely move forward and attack. With such a simplified decision-making process, everyone that comes to Florida gets to tap into the physical tools that helped get them to the NHL in the first place, without having to worry about some of the other complexities that might’ve inhibited them in their previous stops on other teams.

The result of creating that sort of infrastructure is a massive competitive advantage for the Panthers. They’re able to routinely shop in the bargain bin, and squeeze value out of sources that might not be as readily available for the competition. That’s turned into quite the luxury for a franchise that hasn’t exactly had a lot of financial flexibility of late, having to turn over the roster and find a way to make the cap figures work creatively.

Everyone involved deserves their fair share of the credit for creating an environment where that’s possible, but none moreso than Aleksander Barkov. Great players make those around them better, and that’s exactly what he’s done in Florida. By doing so, he's cemented himself as the preeminent two-way center in today's game.

#aleksander barkov #i paid $6 for that matthew article so if you've got requests for rinkside paywalled content i will post them lmao #2324 #florida panthers #Youtube

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