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tremendum · 1 year

Text

Mr. Miller

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)

word count: 6.8k requested: yes. here and here :)

summary: “six months before you ran yourself into any trouble with somebody - that's no easy feat, considering your track record, so you like to call it a win anyways. but boy, talk about a rocky start with someone. Tommy's goddamn brother, no less.”

warnings: Jackson era, mentions of marijuana use, age gap (unspecified), sliiightly dub!con, smut (PiV, unprotected), creampie, overstimulation, pussy spanking, choking, spit kink, slight knife kink (do not look at me), dom!Joel (brat tamer!Joel if you squint), slight sir kink, so much dirty talk, lots of begging, degradation kink, dacryphilia, mean!Joel, this is just shameless smut i am horrible notes: okay i kind of modified these asks but I thought it’d be fun to write it like this!!! as always reblogs/asks/comments are always great motivations :’) this is not reread because i am INSANE! xoxo

( read the sequel other Joel fics: fever landmines )

★

to be completely honest, you never would’ve guessed you’d move to Wyoming.

of course, in this world you didn't really have much of a choice of where you end up; it was hard to travel, yes, but there was some guiding hand that invisibly pushed you upon Jackson in the middle of a really rough winter.

a girl, lost and on her own through the dangerous sprawls of what's left of the United States - of course Tommy and Maria had accepted you into the community; you were resourceful, willing, and strong-headed.

most of Jackson was nice.

the people were good, the community functioned, and you were finally safe - you found a job working partly as a patrolman if an extra hand was needed, but mostly as a gardener.

it was a beautiful basin valley with sprawling mountains that glittered in the snow even during summer.

you'd only been there for - what, maybe half a year? six months before you ran yourself into any trouble with somebody - that's no easy feat, considering your track record, so you like to call it a win anyways. but boy, talk about a rocky start with someone.

Tommy's goddamn brother, no less.

you didn't particularly get off on the correct foot with Joel Miller. when he showed up in town, people were thrown off. you surely understood that - but it was Tommy's brother, and Tommy insisted he would be fine; he and the girl with him had already been 'round Jackson before, leaving just a week or so before you showed up, apparently.

you'd definitely heard about him.

coincidentally, you'd actually moved into the house that Tommy had wanted Joel to have; the house that had the spare girl's bedroom which Ellie came through to ravage once they came back into town. (apparently the towels at Joel's were too rough no matter how many times they were washed, and Ellie really liked that Tamagotchi you'd found in the bedroom she once slept in.)

maybe that'd already put him off, the short time in which Ellie had found company in you. who knows.

but unfortunately, your first impression of him was muddled by a very real lens of beer-goggles and a long week's aching exhaustion in your brain. he was large, a tall man whose disposition dripped of domineering power; he didn't trust anybody here and by the looks of it, they didn't particularly adore him. he kept to himself besides Tommy - who unfortunately along with his wife were really your closest comrades in the community.

you almost felt bad for him, because that's how many people saw you at first. but on that night, you were just drunk enough, as you greeted Maria and Tommy at the bar with smiles and a joke about your libido, that you didn't quite realize that Tommy's big brother Joel was sat there, eyes watching you with a glimmer of something lurking behind the rim of the beer bottle.

to be fair: everybody in this life is unkind in their first impressions. that's just how the world is now - 'every man for himself' is an unfortunately ugly reality and those who are too soft to see that are rarely spared the gore.

but when Tommy introduces you to Joel with a huff of a laugh and a friendly slap on your shoulder, Joel's eyes are distrusting, judging. he doesn’t say anything to you.

you try not to be offended.

"pleasure to meet ya, Mr. Miller." you nod with a grin, your cheeks hot with slight intoxication as his large, calloused palm slips into yours. his grip is tight - your wince is covered with your words as you momentarily shoot Maria a look, turning back to the man in front of you.

"I met your girl earlier. stormed into my house like she owned the damn thing. was lookin' for some stuff she'd found last time, I guess. I'm just glad she didn't find my collection of big-girl toys."

okay. okay, yeah, maybe you are too drunk. Maria laughs, at least, and Tommy lets out a chuckle, eyes flickering to Joel. but he just hums, eyes glancing over you once more before returning to nurse his dark beer with a furrow of his brows. “right.”

and pathetic as it is, he was too damn irresistible; you’d imagined that stare -that brooding scowl- one too many times in the dead of night, hands down your pants or in a stranger’s bed.

and it hadn't gotten better in the months following.

it was of circumstances most unfortunate for you that Joel and Ellie moved into a house just a few down from you - as much as you wished to just never see the man and his censorious stare, it was unavoidable. especially when Ellie showed up nearly day-to-day with questions, excuses, or even just complaints of boredom to coax you into letting her inside your house.

a week or so ago, you’d overheard Tommy in a hushed voice down at the dining hall trying to convince Joel it was a good thing, that Ellie was learning to garden, learning about woman stuff (yes, he actually fucking said that), and - god forbid- make friends.

but you love Ellie.

she in't like Joel. she’s funny, and lively, and easy-going once you warmed up to her. in fact, you actually started to collect things from around town to show her on her ceremonious visits; books, tattered board games, once you even found a trumpet in the crawlspace of your old house. it was rusty and honestly probably still had dried saliva from whichever fifth-grader played it way back before the outbreak, but it was enough to entertain you and the fifteen-year-old girl for hours even if neither of you knew how to play it.

and maybe it was after Ellie mentioned to you with a giggle that Joel complains about you calling him ‘Mr. Miller,’ or maybe it was when she said he’d always ask about you and what you’re like whenever she returned from your days together.

no matter what the catalyst really was, you just know you have it bad for that man, in the worst way - because he is a fucking asshole.

but the worst of it was when Joel and you get paired up to patrol together on the outskirts. it means hours together of breathing and awkward looks, silence from you because he was silent and clearly wanted nothing to do with you.

you suffered through hours of Joel’s rugged sageness for survival, tugging you effortlessly through boulders, lifting yourselves high through dilapidated structures in the middle of the wilderness. he was strong and capable and fucking sexy, and that made it all the more unbearable when snide comments about your youth or your inexperience or your lack of punctuality would pass his lips. it was annoying how hot it made you.

as the summer rolled around, the horde was growing ever-present at the lips of Jackson county, festering like the moss that spreads along the woodsy forests in the northwest - hence your increased activity with the others who patrol the area and keep the community safe.

he was a many of almost no words, and though you were in no way the same when you were around people you trust, the man just brings out the skeptic in you - so for weeks, it was days of the two of you walking in silence, the only noise being weak impasses and jabs at the other’s self-esteem all veiled by a smirk or an eye-roll.

and still, each day out passed with your untrustworthy gazes pinned on the horizon just as much on each other's trigger fingers.

you're at your wit's end on one Friday evening as you finally return into town from patrol with him.

Joel is a man plagued by too many unnamed illnesses; the likes of which you so fondly call in your head 'can't-accept-help-itis' and 'stubborn-old-asshole-luenza.' part of his symptoms render him unable to say full sentences to you without a judgmental look or a skeptical scoff, and sure you're not always the best judge of character, but you're confident that Joel has his eyes on your backside every single time you bend over to move your marker on the trail. he’s thought about it, too.

but right now, you’re so tense you’re about to snap.

his gaze hasn't left your profile for - you swear to god - almost thirty fucking minutes. like, nearly the whole walk from the first outpost. he’s been staring at you like you’re a ghost, or a second head sprouted from your neck.

the heat of the summer night is unsullied; though you’re high in elevation, the warm wind blows a gust over your bare knees and ruffles your hair, coaxing a damp feeling to settle between your thighs under his gaze.

"if you stare any harder at me, you'll get a fucking nose bleed." you sneer, keeping your eyes ahead as you grit your teeth. his gaze is burning into your side and with your words, they maintain their heat.

whatever he was thinking, he keeps it to himself. you glare at his own profile, thick thighs, sturdy chest, hair that blows gently in the warm air. his jaw, glinting against the lights that guide you back into town. at least he’s looked away from you. good.

your victorious smirk is wiped off of your lips with his next words, the first in several hours from him besides grunts and directives. "d'you have the logs on you?"

you look at him with revelation. "shit." you sigh shaking your head, "they're- they're at home."

his face slides into a look of disdain, deep vexation at the task of now going back with you to your own house to sign the logs and confirm your findings for this patrol. "great." he mutters, feet kicking into gear to hightail it up the street, towards your house.

the heat is swirling around your legs in the darkening evening as you finally enter your house, sighing into the empty air. the lights flicker when you switch them on, and you'd bring yourself to be more embarrassed about the disheveled state of your things if it had been anyone else with you.

it doesn’t even matter, after all; his sights are set one one incriminating little piece of evidence in the corner of the living room.

the small nub that sits on the tray by your windowsill seems to be more salient for Joel than the hurricane that threw your belongings across the space.

your hands fall onto your hips, sighing as he accusingly lifts it from its ashy grave, eyes furrowed in irritation. your flannel sticks to your sleeves in the heat as his eyes meet yours.

"is this- 's this marijuana?" he's incredulous as his fingers pinch the burnt-out roach, and you screw your brows at him; is he serious? you ignore the dwarfed look of the small old joint in his large hand, instead rolling your eyes. "yeah, some folks call it weed. you can smoke it and it makes you feel real good. you ever heard of it, Mr. Miller?" you snark, the sarcasm spilling from your lips deliciously; Joel eats it up like a man starved, his jaw ticking as he tilts his head.

you know he secretly loves when you taunt him with the honorific; yes, it gets on his nerves, but there’s a secret air about him that suggests he likes it that way. it is easier to blur the lines between hate and desire than affection and desire, after all.

"Ellie comes over here every day." he hisses, eyes sharp. you blink slowly at him, trying to fight the laugh that creeps up your throat; his gaze is dark, furious - did he think you were smoking weed with the girl? she's, like, thirteen. (fifteen, she corrects you in your mind. but still.)

"that’s correct." you confirm, turning from him to search the kitchen for the log you'd forgotten in your haste to leave. his footsteps ring angry onto the floorboards. "if you're worried about that, I’d never smoke around her. 'm not that disrespectful." you defend, avoiding eye contact as you shuffle through your drawer of junk.

"doesn’t matter. she won't be coming round much more." he threatens it - tests the waters. as if he has the authority to punish you.

you lift a brow at him, "don’t you think she should be able to make that choice?" you throw back at him, tossing your switchblade onto the table to your right as you sort through the miscellaneous items with both hands.

uh oh, that struck a nerve in the man.

his eyes sharpen as he breathes harsh at your words; "don't talk about things you know nothing about, girl." he snaps, crossing his arms, "now find the fucking log so I can leave."

you glare at him, gesturing in front of you; your eyes scream no shit, Joel, I’m looking.

it's silent as you search through the drawer, gritting your teeth in the tense silence of anger, thicker than molasses.

you click your jaw, refusing to let it go, let him think he won.

"I do have self respect, y'know." you pipe up, lifting a brow as you finally stumble upon the log, pulling a dying pen from the drawer and scribbling notes as you plop down on a wooden chair at your kitchen table.

Joel stays standing; it does not go unnoticed when his eyes take in the contours of your body, the clothes that stick to you in the heat of the summer; a pair of jean shorts, torn from years of use, and a thin tank top, covered with an unbuttoned flannel. his eyes sear into you at your words.

wow. fuck him.

(no, not like fuck him, but- fuck him.)

"never said you didn't, darlin'." he mutters condescendingly, the pet name leaving his mouth bitterly. any form of backlash you were going to unleash on his dies in your throat quickly when he leans over your shoulder to sign his own name next to yours. your eyes widen to search his face as his own skim over your account of the patrol. he's- wow, he's closer to you than you would have expected.

holy shit. smoky swirls of gunpowder, pine, and dark amber whiskey. they fill your nostrils, dizzying your mind as you let out a stuttered breath - it's hot in here... your eyes glance as a small lick of sweat trickles down his neck. your throat is dry, heat swirling in your abdomen as he hums, "jus' think Ellie should start hangin' around with others."

"why's that?" you snap, daring him to say it. fuck, your heart is pounding in your chest. oh, if he just admits it; that he thinks he's better than you, that he thinks you're pathetic - lord, you yearn for it, you’d have a fucking field day. you want an excuse to hit him. or bite him.

fuck Joel Miller, and- okay, fine. fuck him, too.

his brows are furrowed as he glares hawkishly at your stubborn form; his gaze is serrated with disdain, jaw clenching with the words you're just begging him to admit.

"she's been cussin' and speaking...vulgar." he mutters, eyes flickering away from you. your jaw unhinges as you huff in surprise; he has the audacity to accuse you for teaching her to be foul-mouthed? hadn't she traveled with him for, what, a year? she’s a teenager - that’s what they do.

"oh, please." you snap, "that girl was far from a princess when you showed up here, you know." you mutter, tossing a look over your shoulder up at him, the buttons undone at the top of his shirt staring at you, mocking you.

"I know." he dismisses. his hand falls to stable himself on the back of your chair as he leans down towards you, "but you ain't helping. don't need her gettin' into any more trouble."

you narrow your eyes, "trouble?" you parrot, accusing.

the air is warm, thick as you cross your arms, the windows open and flowing the outside summer air into your nostrils. "how could I be trouble? you hardly know me." you snap, offended. you swirl with irritation.

"because I listen. people think you're harsh. untrustworthy." he spits, smirking down at you as if his words are poison that'll dissolve your whole being into a small puddle of regret. but no, it's gasoline; his words are enough to incite your flames, lick you alive with ardor.

he doesn't like you? oh, big fucking deal. you don't like him.

"you ever heard of the pot calling the kettle black, Mr. Miller?" you drawl, lifting an accusatory brow. “what if you’re the bad influence? it’s not like you have any more manners than I do.”

his jaw sets and his nostrils flare from his sharp exhale; you let your eyes swipe over the splattering of freckles that peek out from under the scruff beard that grows; a scar jags across his skin, frown lines creasing his scowl in a dark, terribly attractive way. you’re tip-toeing a line here, you can feel it.

he can feel it, too.

his eyes dip down, though you try hard to hold his heated gaze; they trail slowly over your shoulders and down, down to the dip of your collarbones and then over your breasts, heaving slightly with the proximity of the man. his gaze nearly melts the tank top that stretches over your torso and a flood of excitement rushes through you, pooling in the seat of your underwear. a smirk creeps onto your face at his wandering stare - resentful, loathing, heated.

something in you snaps, and you can't deal with it any longer; not with his proximity, leaning over your shoulder and staring you down, with half-rolled sleeves. his forearms, they’re thick- goddamn, he's so-

"-I can't tell if you're looking at me like that because you want to kill me, or you want to fuck me." you snap, breaking his spell as you snap his attention back to your own eyes with your bold choice of words. "either way, it'll have to wait. I got shit to do, Mr. Miller, and for some reason, you're still in my house giving me fuck-me-eyes."

"-you better watch your mouth." he snarls, chest heaving as he leans forward menacingly, his jaw clenched.

you let yourself smile up at him, "or what, Mr. Miller?" you ask kindly, voice dripping with perfidious innocence.

he sneers, eyes raking over your form, jaw ticking. your body flushes with warmth under his scrutinous gaze; one of your bare legs slides up to rest on the chair next to you, on full display snd illuminated in the light of the kitchen as you smirk at him. his dark chocolate gaze slides over the skin revealed; your skin tingles in excitement under his watch. it makes you chuckle.

"what, you don't like the way I speak?" you hiss, glaring at him. "chastising me for shit that you do, too?" you mutter snidely, pulling your leg back down as his eyes glare into yours. "I'm an adult, you can't tell me what to say. fucking hypocrite."

your hand presses into his chest, standing to your full height. his chest is firm, hot, but he lets you do it easily, moving back out of your space; giving you an out, offering you a chance to say this-isn't-what-I-want. but you won't take it. no, instead you slide up closer to him, until you're too close.

"why so quiet now, Mr. Miller?" you almost purr, your hand still toying with your switchblade, the glint of it reflecting in his eyes. slowly, you lift the blade to trace it gently, softly over his jawline, as you’d do with your fingers. he watches you like a damn hawk, breathing heavy.

the scratch of it against the facial hair is enough for him to snap; suddenly snatching the blade from between your fingers in one quick motion.

“you’re testin’ my patience.” he growls, shaking his head as he holds the handle of the knife in an iron-like grip. you shake your head, “yeah, well, you’ve taken all mine.” you counter. “so…” you start, raising a brow at the knife in his hands, the way your legs are turning to putty, “you going to kill me, Mr. Miller? or fuck me?” you whisper it into his ear, up on the tips of your toes as the peppering-gray curls at the base of his ear tickle your lips.

a sharp exhale - almost a surrender. then, a rough hand pushes you down against the table, hard. your body is pliant, willing, excited as his force brings you to thud against the wood, his hand flying down quick just to your right in a loud thud.

your head snaps to your right, eyes wide and jaw open; your switchblade pins your own flannel to the table, stabbed down and holding the material and your arm in place. christ, it barely missed nicking your skin.

“depends on if you can learn some goddamn manners.” he growls, leaning over you, his hips slotting between your thighs.

maybe it’s the look on his face, or just how damn long it’s been since you had someone, or just because it’s Joel – but your facade falls so quick and you’re soon keening up towards him, arching your back so your chest sticks out.

“I’m a fast learner.” you promise; at that, he merely hums, his hips grinding slow over yours. you let your eyes squeeze shut, groaning lightly at the bliss of his rough denim sliding against your shorts-clad cunt, throbbing with desire.

you’re breathless; shivers cascade down your spine at the press of his hips against yours, licking your lips to wet them; “fuck, Joel-“ your breath is strangled, “please. I can be good for you.” you try to convince him, blinking your eyes up at him. his smirk is downright evil as his hands fall to your top, skating over the tops of your breasts before one hand grips your jaw in his large palm, squeezing hard onto your cheeks and forcing you to stare into his eyes.

his grip is unforgiving. “y’think you can jus’ bat those pretty eyes at me?” he sneers, his breath hot and fanning over your face. you’re overheating- god, it’s so fucking hot in your house; your hand raises to grip his forearm, swallowing your pride for the sake for finally getting to feel him inside you, “’m sorry, Joel.” you mutter, cheeks squished by his hand.

his brow furrows, shaking his head. a chastising tutting noise escapes his throat as he rolls his hips, grinding sloooow and smooth against your dripping cunt, aching with desire.

“no, you’re fucking not.” he spits, pushing you harder against the table. your throat is dry, a whimper of desire escaping your throat. his lips brush the shell of your ear as he leans more of his weight on you, your legs wrapping around his hips and your own surging up, up in search for some friction, “say it. say you’re not sorry. you like it, I can tell.”

shivers spill down your spine as you bite back a moan, cheeks alight with heat at his teasing. Your eyes lull over towards the blade that holds down your shoulder, pinning you against the table. a hot rush of arousal floods your underwear as you swallow, eyes rising to meet his in a lidded gaze.

“I like it,” you admit in a shameful gasp, hand sliding up to explore his chest, “I’m- I’m not sorry. I like it, ‘m not sorry.” you mutter, voice desperate, pathetic; you’re swallowing a whimper as he grinds slowly against you again, his hardened cock straining against his jeans.

his hand snaps to pin yours down to the edge of the table; your eyes snap up to his, meeting the swirling lust within his deep eyes, searching your face with a dangerous smirk. “you aren’t sorry?” he asks, voice dripping with condescending cockiness.

you shake your head no desperately, searching his eyes to see if he’s pleased.

he smirks at your desperation. "you will be, darlin’." he mutters, his own eyes exploring your chest as it heaves, breasts barely spilling out the top of your tank top’s hem. you smile up at him despite your desperation; hunger curls in your chest as you move your hips up against him and his face falters, a groan escaping his throat. his eyes swirl with the dark shine of a man who is nothing less than dangerous.

the hand that isn’t pinned by the blade creeps up his arm, brushing the thick cords of muscle that rope his bicep and shoulders; soon, though, one of his hands is gripping your wrist and slamming it down against the edge of the table.

you gasp from the roughness, biting your lip as your fingers curls around the edge and hold tight under his grip.

“don’t move your hands,” he mutters as his lips dip low to trace over the seam of your top, breath brushing over the soft skin of your breasts. “or I’ll leave you here, pinned to this table.”

arousal floods you at his words and you nod silently, swallowing as his teeth bite roughly at your pressure point. “d’you hear me, girl?” he grunts, his hands moving to pull out one of your breasts from your top, your peaked nipple instantly tugged between his prying fingers.

you let out a yelp at the sensation and he huffs against your skin, biting again. “fuck,” you whimper loudly, bucking your hips as your hands grip tight against the edge of the table; one arm is pinned with the knife anyways, but your heart thunders as his tongue peaks out, brushing hot against your sweat-sheened skin.

A hand snakes to your throat and you can’t stop the moan you let out, air sucking through your windpipe at the light grip he keeps; you’re obsessed with how all-consuming he is.

Joel’s everywhere – his smell, his eyes, his hands, tongue – you want him to be inside you, you want him to be in you forever, ever, ever.

fuck Joel Miller. fuck him, and fuck him.

“I asked you something. answer me.” he squeezes your throat as he emphasizes, as he demands you; you buck up against him, convinced you’re soaking through your goddamn shorts, leaving disgusting proof of your sick, twisted arousal as you move against his crotch.

his dominance causes your face to flare with heat; you weren’t expecting him to seduce you into submission - you love it. “y-yes, yes, sir. I he-heard you.” you gasp, face flushing hot as the words leave you. he smirks darkly as he pulls away from you, danger lurking in his eyes deliciously as he nods, seemingly pleased.

he nods. “good.”

his hips are gone from you in an instant and your gasp is choked – but he wastes no time in popping the button on your jeans, sliding them and your underwear off of you in one long motion.

his pupils somehow blow even wider as he stands in front of you, palming his thick cock through his jeans, watching you pant hard.

you’re exposed in front of him – your pussy is swollen with need, pulsing with desire as one of your breasts rests exposed to the air as the knife pins you down by the arm of your flannel; you’re fucking exposed and you love it. he’s intoxicating.

“you’re soaked.” he says after a moment of silence so long that you barely register his gruff voice. you blink, bringing your eyes back up to his from where he’s begun to undo his belt.

you can’t help the light smirk as you stare up at him, “maybe I happen to like it when you’re vulgar with me.”

he glares at you but there’s a hint of something more that flashes through his eyes; adoration? no, it couldn’t be. Joel Miller can’t adore anything.

but then out of nowhere his fingers delve through your velvet, slippery folds in a fervor; your breath chokes yet again in your lungs as you tense with the sudden stimulation.

a low, guttural moan falls from your lips as the pads of his middle and ring fingers rub tight, slow circles on your clit, “bet you taste so good, don’t you?” he murmurs, his teeth finding purchase upon your neck, sucking a mark so hard you’re sure you’ll have it for weeks. christ. “y’want me to taste you, pretty girl?”

fuck. images flash through your mind of him on his knees, tongue unraveling you, drowning in you while your thighs close around those thick greying curls.

your moan falls from you fast, nodding quick, “yes, yes, please, please, use your mouth.“ your whines are downright embarrassing – you’re not a wide-eyed virgin teen, for fuck’s sake – but Joel’s stirring you just right, making you purr with pleasure.

but instead of his tongue, a harsh swat falls onto your aching cunt and your hips jolt at the stimulation, your clit throbbing and the sting making you groan his name. you can’t help the moan of disappointment.

“well, isn’t that too bad?” he snarls, his voice mean. you feel tears of frustration spring in your eyeline as you huff a sigh, his fingers slowly, torturously moving over your clit yet again. “bet you’d love if I ate your cunt. probably dream about it, don’t ya? d’you think about me when you touch yourself?”

Christ, you’d never expected Joel-don’t-fucking-talk-to-me-Miller to be so fucking dirty; but you learned your lesson last time, so you nod quick, eyes lidded through the euphoric, teasing pleasure from the pads of his fingers.

“all-all the time, J-Joel, fuck, think about you all the time.”

and it’s true.

“that’s right. my slut, thinkin’ about me.” he spits, mouth peppering bites over your throat. “gonna have to make y’cum fast, baby. Maria’s probably waiting for us t’turn in the logs.”

the possession in his voice brings you even further towards the edge, catapulting you, sending you frustratingly close as your body tenses, puckering hole clenching around nothing as he slowly works you.

you nod your head, unable to open your eyes as your legs close around Joel’s fingers; in anger, his hand tears your thighs apart, swatting the soft skin of your thighs in punishment. you yelp at the sting, biting your lip as a new gush of arousal leaks from your neglected hole and drips down onto the table.

fueled by frustration and adrenaline and some desperate fire of attraction that’s been burning between you since he first showed up in Jackson, you nearly scream, “please, fuck me now, Joel, please I’ll do anything-“

his hand leaves his ministrations quick, his glare sharp as his fingers glisten with your desperate arousal; they’re soaked. you feel yourself flush in embarrassment until he smirks darkly, tugging himself out of the confines of his jeans. “there, see? learnin’ some manners.”

his cock is heavy and thick as it slides through your wet, slick folds. your breath, panting out and puffing as you watch in awe. his: stuttering as the tip of his dick notches at your clenching hole, teasing.

“Jesus, you’re trying t-to swallow me, darlin’.” His hand reaches out, grabbing a palm full of your tit as he rocks his hips, once again nudging your leaking hole.

your whole body shivers in anticipation; you will your eyes to not reveal how fucking turned on you are about his size - you’re more wet than you’ve ever been in your life and his cock is - well, it’s thick, long, bigger than you’d like to admit.

“greedy fuckin’ pussy.” he grunts to himself as you hold yourself as still as possibly, one tear escaping as you your eyes clench shut in desire.

“’m ready, Joel.” you whimper, eyes opening to find his hot gaze already searing through you; he just smirks, nodding slightly. “yeah, bet you are, pretty girl.”

he can’t thrust all the way into you, not fully- his cock is too thick, your cunt slick with arousal but still so goddamn tight. the rumbling moan he lets out as he inches in slowly is fucking heavenly.

a strangled gasp leaves your lips when he starts to slide into you, inch-by-inch, stretching you open and filling you full of him. your fingers twitch at your sides as you yearn to card your fingers through his thick curls; his head falls heavy against your chest as he mutters, “s’tight, baby, fu-fuckin’ tight.”

“so much,” you whimper, fingers tight and shaking as you restrain from grabbing his arms to stabilize himself, “‘s too much.” you mumble, tears stinging. he hums, the ghost of a kiss over your cheek before he’s in your ear, whispering, “am I too big for you, baby? gonna hav’ta work you open on my fingers first next time, yeah?”

his dark grin grows as you nod your head dumbly, “fuck- yeah, yes.” you agree, nodding,

his voice is starting to slur, accent getting thicker as he soon splits you fully, speared and sheathed deep, deep into you. you’re fluttering around him as you accommodate to his size, the feeling of him nearly breaking you open as he starts to shallowly thrust.

you let out a loud moan, his thickness stretching you and sliding deeper than expected, kissing against a spot that has you keening. your toes curl and your head falls back as he pulls out, thrusting back into you slow, grinding, deep.

all you can say is his name; it falls from your lips like it’s the only word you know, his hips soon pistoning into you with fervor, chasing the feeling coiling in your abdomen.

his hands roam.

they explore every part of you they can reach, his teeth marking every inch of your throat and painting you into a beautiful piece of art. for him.

the noise of your pussy swallowing his girth in is downright filthy as it echoes through your kitchen; your head lulls to the side as you let out a languid moan, the spot he's hitting making your eyes roll back. you can feel stray tears leak down your cheeks, hot and heavy as you whimper in desire; you're so goddamn close, already, you know he can feel it.

“y’gonna-“ he grunts, eyes screwed shut in pleasure as yours leak down your cheeks, body shaking with desire, “-gonna take my cock and say thank you, ‘s that right?”

a shaking rush of arousal just slickens you even more; the sounds of his body rocking into yours wet and loud in the room as you nod frantically, the pleasure coiling dangerously fast.

but it seems you weren’t quick enough with your response: Joel’s hips slow, then stop completely.

you’re left gasping, eyes wide as you stare up at him in shock: “wh-why?” you whimper, his pulsing length half out of you, teasing you.

Joel’s eyes meet your own and he sternly swats your tits, eyes watching as the breast exposed to the air moves in recoil.

“do you want to cum?” he asks, as if he’s asking what 2 + 2 is. your face fucking burns as you nod, “yes-“

but he grunts, hips too agonizingly still as he leans forward, “then take my cock, fuck yourself on it. and use your fuckin’ manners.”

you blink at him, spurring into action only after a very brief short-circuited moment. your hips stutter and shake at the angle, unable to move in a way that stimulates yourself enough to bring you back to the edge.

you shutter, muttering, “th-thank- thank you,” but you can’t do it. you glare at him as you move your hips, hands shaking, muscles straining, but you can tell he’s not pleased: brows drawn, a swat to your exposed breast that stings and spurs your hips quicker.

“come on, this is pathetic.” he snarls, fingers gently pinching your clit. the yelp you let out is dry, starved. “why so quiet now, darlin’?” he throws your own words back at you deliciously.

he stands stationary, eyes judging you, focused on where your cunt tries to swallow his cock, your movements choppy and weak. tears spring in your eyes; he feels so good, but you just can’t get it right.

“please.” you nearly whisper it, but it’s exactly what he was looking for. he rocks his hips shallowly, your body rocking gently with the slow, deep force of him splitting you open.

“please, what?” he whispers into your ear, teeth scraping your jaw. resentment and arousal flows through your veins as you let out a strangles, “please, s-sir-“

with the words, Joel’s hips cant up into you, the slight angle making your legs coil and your throat burn.

“please fuck me, y’feel- I can’t do it, need- you feel so good, fuck me hard, please, I want it.” you let go, begging and desperate to give you what you crave.

his hips pick up a brutal pace. your back is pounded into the wood below you, the cool blade of the knife cold against your flannel as one of his large hands moves you until your legs are thrown up, over his shoulders.

the stretch is unimaginable and he doesn’t give you any time to adjust; his hips are unforgiving, fucking you open and letting your juices of arousal spill over the skin of your thighs and onto the table.

“such a foul fuckin’ mouth on you.” he spits, one hand gripping your jaw until it opens for him, your mind clouded with the chase of your highs.

he spits into your mouth, saliva warm and intoxicating as you swallow it happily, nodding in a daze. “gonna fuck you stupid, aren’t I? you won’t think about anything but me for weeks.”

he’s right, and he fucking knows it.

you nod at him, unable to form full words as he hits the spongy, delicious spot inside you that nearly makes you pass out. your hands fucking ache from the grip on the table, but you hope he’s pleased that they haven’t moved a damn inch this whole time; even as he splits you wide open and takes you apart.

you’re so close you might actually start to sob as the crest of your orgasm tingles your thighs, your toes curling and legs shaking.

he's close, too. his thrusts are getting slower, sloppier.

“whose pussy is this?” Joel grunts, his movements soon desperate and deep; his tip kisses your cervix and your body jolts up the table with each movement of his pubic bone against yours.

the pain is fucking euphoric, delicious as you grip the edge of the table so hard you’re unsure they’ll ever relax. his finger pinches your nipple and you yelp, sweat sticking to your forehead, “-y-yours, fuck, Joel- yours, a-always.” you whimper, breathless.

you feel his smile grow against your neck and the butterflies that grow in your chest seem out of place with the bruises that will soon blossom on your skin from his teeth, his fingers.

you smile, too.

"god, you're perfect- f-feel fuckin' perfect around me, baby. need you to cum." as his sentence ends, his head jerks up, one hand rising to grip your jaw tight. your eyes snap to his and the anger boils, festering with the desire and lust within his eyes, "know y'can't help it, can you?"

you shake your head fiercely as your orgasm nears. he hums deep, a rumble from his chest, “what do you say if you want me to let you cum?”

fuck. fuckfuckfuck you’re too close- your muddled mind spits a barely cohesive babble of pleads, “please, p-pleaseplease I-I’m sorry I’m sorry-“

“you’re sorry?” he presses, hips not giving up; your whole body burns as you wait for your orgasm, knowing in any second it’ll be ruined. “look at those pretty eyes. did y’learn your manners? y’gonna say thank you?”

you let out a sob of pleasure, his thrusts so deep you can feel them in your throat. “yes, Joel- please- let me cum, please-“

his hand slides to your throat. “cum now.”

you swallow around his grip and let out a near scream of his name as his other hand snakes between you; a finger brushes against your abused clit, the combined stimulation pushing you over the edge.

you see colors.

your orgasm explodes as you gush around him, pulsing, begging, unraveling around his touch. your voice is broken, mutters and whimpers of his name followed by thank you, thank you drifting through the room.

your thighs are soaked with your own spend and he feels you grip him like a vice; he can't help but kiss the tears from your cheeks as he milks you through your orgasm, muttering soft grunts in your ear.

"that's it, baby. there y'go, cum on my dick when i fuckin' tell you to." he kisses the column of your throat as his thrusts slow to deep, long thrusts. "atta girl."

you scream at his words and the overstimulation. he shushes you, thrusts slow. "'m gonna cum." he sounds almost desperate, his body so close to yours it's almost like he's trying to smother you.

he groans your name in a broken sound; his grip tugging your hair. he moves back, frantic to pull out and ride his high- but you panic.

"w-wait!" you rush, hands springing without thinking to push his hips hard against yours. you can't bear to imagine him pulling out of you so soon - you need to feel him, be full of him. "cum in me, Joel- I need it, j-just- fuck!"

his hand slams over your mouth, effectively silencing you with a loud grunt of his own, "shut the fuck up," he growls, sounding too close. “jesus, girl- gonna wake up the whole n-neighborhood-“ but even his shamefully dirty mouth falters when he chases his orgasm.

soon he thrusts shallowly into your pulsing cunt before he's moaning, spurting his seed into you.

hot, thick ropes of cum paint your walls as you flutter, whimpering as you breathe heavy, hands skittering up his back despite his earlier orders.

his lips brush over your skin as he lies on you, heavy; "jesus christ." is all he mutters, pulling out of you with a slick sound and tucking himself into his jeans.

you can only stare at the ceiling, the light above the table you’re laid upon swinging with the residual force of your bodies colliding.

a hand falls in a sharp thud to your right, pulling hard to dislodge the knife from its home against you; the notch it leaves reveals the patrol log; speared in the middle with the evidence of you and Joel's digressions.

oops.

you're wrecked. you're a trembling frame of a structure after the hurricane of Joel Miller took threw you, stripping you to your bare bones. a ghost of lips over the inside skin of your knees as they fall, weak, off of his shoulders. and then he stares at you as you shakily sit up, setting your clothes right, swallowing on a raw throat.

“‘m sorry about the flannel.” he gestures to the rip in your arm where the knife had pinned you down and something about it makes you chuckle, smoothing down your hair. “are you- are you okay?” he asks suddenly, hard eyes looking almost soft under the glow of the lamplight.

he hands you your underwear and jeans and helps you slide back into them in a surprisingly sweet turn of events.

“more than okay, christ. if you make me cum like that again you can do anything you want to my clothes.” you wink with a deep breath, smiling gently at him when he helps you stand back up on shaky legs. he actually sends you a half-smirk at that, and it flutters along your chest.

the nighttime air is not so suffocating as you and Joel make your way towards Maria, his hand grazing over the small of your back as you walk on Jell-o legs, faces flushed and sweat slicking to your skin.

it’s awkward.

“I-” he starts, swallowing air as you stare up at him. sweat trickles from his brow and you itch to trace it with your tongue.

“I actually think you’re not too bad,” he finishes, turning to walk up the steps to Tommy and Maria’s. you blink, heat fluttering in your chest as he admits, but soon whirls around to ensure you hear him, “for Ellie. just- don’t do that shit around her, right?” he clarifies.

you grin at his reddened cheeks as he tucks the log into the box set near the door, filing it under the western outpost for the date.

“yes, Mr. Miller.” you mock-salute him, smirking to yourself as his flush deepens, the scowl ever-present on his face softening slightly at your smile.

“christ.” he shakes his head, “you’re gonna get me into a lot of trouble.” you don’t miss the smile that creeps on his face as he starts to walk you back home.

read part 2

requests open

#joel miller smut #Joel Miller #joel x reader smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel smut #joel x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou spoilers #the last of us (hbo)#the last of us smut #the last of us x reader #the last of us (tv)

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moechies · 6 months

Note

can i request 9 + creampie w toji ?? pleafeeee

writing cream pie is kinda hard.. I TRIED MY BEST </3

prompt:

9. "keep cryin' just like that, you're boyfriends gonna love this.”

cw minor dubcon, cheating (you’re cheating but it’s deserved :3), cream pie, pet names sweetheart, princess, pretty .. dacryphilia, praise, sweet sweet toj, dubcon filming

after nearly a year of being neglected and ditched by your sad excuse of a boyfriend, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

you bumped into toji on a whim, whilst you were out with your friends it seems that you have complained a little too loudly about your boyfriend. toji had overheard everything, and decided to approach you when your friend had parted.

“hi pretty,”

he cut you off whilst you had been walking,

“hello there.. do i know you?”

“don’t think so pretty. overheard a lot ‘bout how yer boyfriend doesn’t take care of ya. is that right? “

“y-yes but i’m afraid that’s none of y-“

“how he doesn’t buy you dinner or flowers, or how he’s always ditchin ya.. ‘nd most importantly how he’s never made ya c-“

“e-enough! s-stop! w-why did you approach me to tell me this!”

“what m sayin sweets, i could change all of that, yeah?”

and that’s how you ended up here, in your apartment, and in your bed.

your bedsheets curled up from the mattress, and the constant squeaking on your bed frame.

“t-toji.. c-can’t.. please…”

“no, you can princess.. gotta make up for all those lost orgasms hm?”

his sweet smile but such lewd praise makes your tummy churn. the man had you in an intoxicating mating press, the pressure was so great it felt as if you couldn’t breathe. you’ve cum for the 4th time tonight, and your body had been limp since your second. your sweaty bodies press against each other, with his hips erratically pumping into your sticky cunt.

“fuck.. needed you s bad… hey..”

before you get to look back at him, a blinding flash comes over your face,

“smile for me yeah..? c-can’t forget a pretty fuck like you..”

your heart begins to beat faster, and your attempts to push away his camera or turn your head seem to fail. his hand grabs tightly onto your face, keeping you in place directly under his lens,

“n-no! to-toji..!”

his chuckle goes straight down to your cunt, his camera panning from your flushed face to the sticky wet mess down below.

“s so fuckin pretty. got the prettiest, tightest, cunt i know. fuck, m gonna cum soon pretty.“

his thrusts begin to get heavier, and deeper, making them hit so deep it started to hurt.

“t-toji..! s too m-much..!”

“s okay princess. you take it so fuckin well f me. jus keep fuckin crying like that yeah? yer boyfriends gonna love this..”

you don’t hear his remark, too lost in the way his cock fucks into your cervix to care.

“fuck, gonna cum sweetheart. m gonna cum in you, kay?”

you let out a desperate whine, while your head shamelessly nods. his laugh beams at you, but you’re too drunk off your cock to feel any sort of embarrassment anymore.

“f-fuck..” is all the man can muster out before he releases into you, his cum filling you from the bottom to the top. with the amount of cum that’s inside of you, it pushes his cock out.

when he pans his camera down, he can’t help the moan that comes from his throat. your pretty cunt gaping with his cum leaking out of your swollen hole was truly beautiful. it was a sight he couldn’t ever forget.

“fuckin perfect.”

* 1 attachment*

“yer missin out.”

#jjk smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen smut #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #tw dark content #dark content #toji x you #toji smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji x y/n #jujutsu toji #requests ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

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lucyrose191 · 10 months

Text

A SHARED HISTORY| S.VETTEL

Paring Sebastian Vettel x Fem!driver!reader

Summary; Moments that Sebastian Vettel and reader have had throughout their careers together both on and off track.

Warnings; None, fluff.

F1 Master List , Part 2 , Part 3

Sebastian and Y/N walked into the camera shot, sitting next to each other on the sofa, looking into the camera lens.

"We hereby announce our joint retirement at the end of the 2022 season" they spoke in unison.

📍Italian Grand Prix, 2008

"And Sebastian Vettel passes the checkered flag, taking his first ever win in formula one at the Italian Grand Prix!"

Y/N lifted herself out of her RedBull car after parking in the P2 slot, not wasting any time before running in the direction of her best friend who was getting hugs and pats from the Toro Rosso team.

She jumped into his arms just as he turned around causing him to let out an "Oof!" as he stumbled back into the barriers from the sudden surprise attack.

"I'm so proud of you, Seb! I wouldn't want to come second to anyone else!" Sebastian closed his eyes at her words before tightening his arms around her and lifted her feet from the ground, spinning her around and laughing happily.

"Sebastian, you're going to be joining Y/N at RedBull next year. What do you think she's going to be like as a teammate?"

Sebastian's face upturned into a smile at the mention of Y/N's name, to say he was looking forward to being teammates next year was an understatement. He had a very good feeling about it.

He leant towards the microphone that the interviewer was holding "Well I think it will be great, I've known her for a long time and I'm happy to say I'm at the point where I understand what she's saying, it's taken a while to get used to her accent"

"...You just wait sunshine, you just wait... I just need those two cars... Rosberg P4.... Kubica P5.... DU BIST WELTMEISTER!"

Sebastian immediately started crying, he was world champion! "Thank you boys! Unbelievable! Unbelievable! Thank you, I love you"

"Let's not forget, mate. You are the youngest world champion in F1 history, you're allowed to cry mate, you're allowed to cry"

"Y/N L/N you are a formula one World Champion!!!!"

She couldn't believe what she was hearing through her head set as she flashed by the checkered flag, tears streamed down her face underneath her helmet as she raised her fist in victory whilst driving her cool down lap.

She had done it, she had actually gone and done it.

The first ever female formula one world champion!

"Sebastian Vettel you are a two time World Champion!"

"Sebastian Vettel, Three time World Champion!"

"Four time World Champion, Sebastian Vettel everyone!"

2014

Y/N screamed as Sebastian jumped out of the door of her motor home just as she was about to open it, the German himself fell to the floor in hysterical laughter at the look of horror he saw on her face.

"What the fuck, Sebastian!" She yelled, Seb got up and ran away still laughing knowing she'd be out for revenge

2014

Sebastian, Y/N, Fernando and Lewis sat down, strapping their microphones around their head for the press conference to begin.

"Okay, let's begin"

A tall male with balding hair stood up and introduced himself, then started "I want to start with Sebastian, both you and Y/N are leaving RedBull this year, you to Ferrari and Y/N to Mercedes. Do you think you'll be able to have as a good of a relationship with your new teammate as you've had with Y/N"

"You're trying to get me into trouble here" Sebastian laughed nervously, shifting under Y/N's expectant gaze.

"No uhm" he began to answer seriously "Y/N and I have known each other and raced together for years so it was easy to battle each other while also working together, it's important to get along with the person you spend so much time with and I'll be happy if I have half the relationship with Kimi as I do with Y/N"

Y/N smiled brightly "I'm just that great!" She joked causing Seb to roll his eyes.

"And Y/N, how do you feel about joining Lewis at Mercedes?"

Y/N shrugged "I'm excited to be hopefully moving up in my career, Mercedes feels like a right choice for me to continue progressing. Lewis is a great driver and hopefully an even better teammate. I'll enjoy racing beside him whilst battling against him"

Sebastian rested his forehead against Y/N's, closing his eyes as he relished in the comfort that their closeness brought him. "I love you, Schatz" he whispered, not even realising that the words had fallen from his lips until he felt her step away from him.

Y/N looked up at him, her mouth was gaped open, wondering if she had heard him right. She had. She looked into his eyes and could see every emotion as he looked at her and sure enough there was love, so much love as he looked at her. "I love you too, Seb" she told him, laughing at the utter joy that shot through his face.

Sebastian shook his head. She loved him.

She loved him!

"Y/N L/N you officially have two World Championship titles, what a star!"

"Y/N L/N, three time formula one World Champion!!"

Y/N leant her body back against Seb's chest, he stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist with his head resting against her shoulder. She was a three time world champion, that was now seven between them.

Between them they had matched Michael Schumacher. Now if that wasn't an accomplishment, what was?

Sebastian nuzzled his head against hers, she smelt so good. "Will you be mine?" He whispered in her ear, his lips curving into a soft smile as he felt her shiver.

She didn't answer for a while, continuing to look out at the ocean and for a moment Seb thought that she was going to say no, she shook her head and he felt his heart crack.

But she had a smile on her face. "I've been yours for years, Sebastian" she told him, surprised that he hadn't known that but he wasn't the most aware person she had ever met but she wouldn't change him for anything.

"Y/N L/N, four time formula one World Champion!!"

"The rear of the car was getting all loosey goosey in the last sector there"~Sebastian Vettel

"Y/N L/N, five time formula one World Champion!!"

"Y/N L/N, six time formula one World Champion!!"

Sebastian applauded as he looked up at podium with a look of pure pride on his face, that was his girlfriend up there that was making history, not only was she a six time world champion but she was the first ever woman to achieve a world championship title for the sport.

They had shared the track together for the entirety of their Formula One careers and he felt so lucky that he had been there to witness every one of her accomplishments as she had been there for him.

They had 10 world titles between the pair of them, the history of the sport meant so much to the couple and it was overwhelming knowing that they were now a part of it.

"Everybody's a Ferrari fan, even if they say they're not, they are a Ferrari fan" ~Sebastian Vettel

Sebastian looked up at the love of his life from his position knelt on the floor, this moment had been a long time coming but he had finally plucked up the courage to ask the most important question he would ever ask "Will you marry me, liebe?"

Y/N looked down at the man that owned her heart, there was no hesitation in her answer "Yes! Absolutely!" The tears that clouded her eyes had begun to drop down her cheeks.

Sebastian smiled brighter than ever at her answer, he lifted himself off the ground and took the diamond ring out of the velvet box, grabbing hold of her shaking hand and sliding the ring into her finger. He lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips before looking her in the eyes.

He had never been happier in this moment, no number of world titles would match the feeling of having her agree to spend forever with him.

Now he felt like a true champion.

"And the Vettel's are at it!" Crofty shouted as he spotted Y/N's Mercedes get up close to her husband's Ferrari, the battles between the two were something every Formula One fan looked forward too each season.

Sebastian grinned beneath his helmet as he eyed his wife's car through his mirrors. She loved to challenge him and he enjoyed the fight.

She tried to get the inside line going into the first corner but Seb managed to block her causing her to have to lock up, he went slightly wide on the second which left a gap that might be a little too small for most but she took the risk and ended up beside him on the straight.

Side by side they shot along but at the next corner. Y/N took the inside and had managed to pull away from him on the exit, successfully leaving Seb behind her.

He couldn't be mad, his wife did well, just as she always did.

HOT LAPS

Y/N got into the passenger seat of the Ferrari, her husband shutting the passenger door before making his way round to the drivers side.

She hadn't been told they were doing hot laps for Sky Sports, her PR Officer had suddenly sprung it on her but apparently Seb knew and was very excited about it.

Sebastian settled himself in behind the wheel smiling at the camera's before nudging his wife "Are you excited!?" He asked, a big smile on his face.

Y/N rolled her eyes "I'm so excited for you to kill us" her sarcasm was clear as day, she was only joking, they were both very good drivers and had 100% confidence in each other.

Sebastian's grin widened, he switched the car on after making sure Y/N had her belt on before slamming his foot down on the accelerator sending Y/N shooting back against her seat with a grunt. "Fuck me, a warning would've been nice" she huffed.

"You're meant to be asking me questions" Sebastian told her, trying not to laugh. He couldn't wait to watch this back and see her face.

Y/N picked up the cards she had in her hands as Seb skidded around a corner "Okay, What is it like to have a wife that is a better driver than you?" Her voice wavered from the movement to the car.

Sebastian scoffed "Come off it! That is not a question"

His wife laughed "It is, I mean I have the titles to prove it"

"Yeah and you never let me forget it, ask me a real question" Sebastian said, narrowly missing the track wall as he turned around another corner.

Y/N huffed, he was no fun "Okay fine, when are you going to get Instagram?" She read from the sheet.

"I'm not, I don't need it" he simply replied. Y/N sent him a cheeky smile "yeah that's because you use mine to do all of the stalking"

"Exactly" he replied, a smirk on his face. They both kept their home life private but they did share the rare photo of some of the activities they did away from racing.

Y/N laughed as she read the next question which made Seb a little nervous "Who do you prefer as a teammate, me or Kimi?" She asked.

Sebastian guffawed "I'm not answering that" he replied which earned him an incredulous look "oh so you have to think about it?" She asked.

"You're both good for different reasons" he said.

"Okay so what is Kimi good for that I'm not?" She asked with a look that dared him to answer.

"Some peace and quiet" he muttered under his breath causing Y/N to gasp and slap his arm "That is just rude!" She said, pretending to be offended.

"I'm joking" he told her with a cheeky grin before slamming on the brakes as they reached the pits.

Y/N crept up behind Sebastian who was in the middle of an interview, she looked at the camera and placed her finger to her lips, warning the interviewer and the camera man to be quiet.

Those who saw what she was up to stopped to watch, trying to hide their amused smirks and giggles as Sebastian remained blissfully unaware, too focused on answering questions.

She got up right behind him and before he could sense the presence behind him she raised her arm up and poured the ice cold water over his head.

Sebastian shrieked and spluttered as everyone laughed, turning around he came face to face with the proud smile of his wife. He shook his head like a wet dog causing water to splatter everywhere, he launched himself at her. Y/N screamed, trying to run away but she was too slow, her husband had caught her and had pulled her into his chest, rubbing himself all over her to get her wet as payback.

Everyone in the Formula One world loved the prank wars that occurred in the paddock between the married couple.

DRIVE TO SURVIVE

"My name is Sebastian Vettel and I'm a Formula One driver for Scuderia Ferrari"

"My name is Y/N Vettel and I'm a Formula One driver for Mercedes AMG Petronas... yes! Fuck you Lewis... that's how you do it!"

"Seb's a four time world champion, and one of the most ruthless, brilliantly effective racing drivers that I've ever seen... You don't lose that ability overnight" ~Will Buxton

"Y/N just has this fire about her when she's on the track, she's one of the most determined and skilled driver's in the whole of formula one, I think her six World titles show that" ~Toto Wolff

GRILL THE GRID

Daniel Ricciardo threw his head back and sighed "I think the Vettel's will get those, they're both nerds"

"I have all the time I need?" Sebastian asked the filming crew who nodded in response.

S: "Lewis 2020,

Y/N 2019,2018,2017,2016,2015, 2014

Y: Seb was 2013,2012,2011 and 2010

2009 was Jenson Button

2008 Lewis

S: Kimi 2007

2006 and 2005 was Fernando

2004,2003,2002,2001,2000 was Michael

Y: 1999 and 1998 was Hakkinen

1997.... Villeneuve

Time skip

S: 1953 and 1952 was Ascari

1951 was Fangio

S&Y: and the first one was Farina

The filming crew couldn't believe it, they clapped for the pair whilst shaking their heads in disbelief. The couple really were a pair made in heaven.

Y/N looked at the crew with a proud, excited smile on her face "Did I do it!?"

The crew nodded, Y/N's mouth dropped open before she smiled at the camera and bowed "I'm so proud of myself right now"

"Sebastian got them all right too" the camera man told her. Y/N laughed "Of course he did, who do you think taught me"

Y/N and Sebastian had just raced their last ever race in formula one, she had managed to get on the podium which was a great way to finish her career, one last trophy.

The drivers had all lined up to give the couple a last send off which was really sweet.

"Y/N! Sebastian! Can I get you for one last interview before you leave? I know you're probably sick of all the questions" Natalie Pinkham asked.

She was right, they were tired of all the questions but everyone had a soft spot for Natalie so it only felt right that she should be their last interviewer of the paddock and so the couple walked up to her.

"I was wondering if you could tell us a bit about your decision to retire together, I know you already explained a lot when it was announced but is there anything else that you have to add?" She asked, holding out the microphone between the couple.

Sebastian's hand settled on Y/N's back, his thumb stoking up and down, encouraging her to speak first.

"It wasn't an easy decision and we know that we definitely had the opportunity to continue racing but we have goals outside of formula one that we want to accomplish together and feel now is the time to work towards those goals, Seb and I entered formula one together and it feels right to leave it together too, it's great knowing that we quite literally went through the entire thing with each other"

Sebastian smiled lovingly down at his wife, she had described it perfectly. He knew she still loved racing just as she had when she first started and truly she had only agreed to retire because he had chosen to and she didn't want to race without him on the grid with her but he had lost his spark, he has tried to persuade her to continue but she was adamant.

"How about you, Sebastian?" Natalie asked, tilting the microphone closer to him.

"I think she worded it perfectly, I couldn't think of anyone better to spend my career with, formula one has given us both a lot of special memories but it's time for us to move onto the next step and you'll probably still see us around at some point"

Natalie nodded with a smile and thanked them before letting them get on their way.

Sebastian brought Y/N into a hug, holding her tight against his chest. "This is it, it's over now." He mumbled.

Y/N hummed into his race suit "Maybe. But it's the start of something better"

#sebastian vettel #seb5 #vettel5 #seb vettel #formula one #Sebastian Vettel x reader #motorsport #formula one x you #formula one x reader

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runningfrom2am · 5 months

Text

cold nights // part one

summary: all the stars aligned, and it was you.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: yayyy hi! welcome to my new coryo series!! we're back but this time we have tribute!reader and a very different story from lucy gray's (though it might not seem like it just yet- but trust me okay okay).

series masterlist // playlist

"Oh, you'll be happy about this, Miss Crane..." Dean Highbottom says, getting up from where he's sitting on the steps in front of the students. "The 'runt girl', from District Twelve, she belongs to Coriolanus Snow."

Coriolanus gives a slight shake of his head, trying to dismiss his anger. He knew the Dean was out to get him, plotting against him- leaving him with practically no shot at having any success in his mentorship. No matter who he's about to see on that screen walking up to the stage. He was screwed.

"Y/N Y/L/N."

As the name is called and the camera tracks on a girl in the crowd, Coriolanus feels the urge to vomit right there on the floor. He watches as the shock on her face morphs into tears welling in her eyes, just like the girl from Seven. The only difference, being in sharp contrast to that other girl, the tears are contradicted with a smile.

"Why is she smiling, is she stupid?" Arachne laughs, and Coriolanus looks her way only briefly.

The District Twelve girl straightens her shoulders, giving a slight nod to no one in particular, herself, and ignoring the stares from all the kids around her as she makes her way to the cleared path. Coryo tilts his head at her choice of clothes. The fabric covering her looked as though it was a dress, one day long ago, but now it was sewn up in the middle turning it into shorts. He had never seen anything quite like it- it must have been homemade, and old. Like she had been wearing it her whole life; like the article had grown with her.

"Thank you." He reads her lips as she nods to the peacekeepers who accompanied her up to the stage, a polite smile present on her pink lips. She was too nice for her own good- they had nothing for her besides walk to the stage so she couldn't make a run for it. Even with loaded guns with bullets graced with her name, she was thanking them. Great.

"May I?" She says, nodding to the microphone in front of the mayor.

"Please." He agrees, gesturing for her to take his spot. She must be highly respected- this was a trust never granted to tributes.

"Hello," For the first time, Coriolanus hears the voice of the girl who will be his tribute. Her tone is soft, unshaking despite the circumstances. "Thank you all, for being the village that raised us." She looks off-camera toward Lysistrata's tribute. "There's nowhere in the world with kinder people and kinder souls." She quickly wipes a tear away. "My friends of noble touch; when I am forth, Bid me farewell, and smile."

Coriolanus looks around, gauging the reaction of his classmates. Mostly confusion, and he can't help the small smile that tugs at his lips at the sentiment. She clearly meant something to this community, or maybe the opposite. Maybe she meant nothing to them and they were happy to see her go. That's something he had to believe if he wanted to maintain any grasp on the purpose of the games.

"I must go in, the fog is rising." She says, leaving her statement unexplained as she takes a step back, and she's quickly guided away. As far as he knows, there's no fog to be seen in the forecast of the sunny day present in Twelve.

"Well, good luck, Coriolanus. She's clearly out of her mind." Arachne laughs, punctuating the incompletion of the tribute's statement as the faded material of her makeshift dress disappears with the close of the camera lens.

As the train comes to a slow stop, the cars rattle together. Coriolanus tries not to flinch as the waiting peacekeepers slam batons onto the metal doors, shouting for the tributes to get out while they're slid open. He's immediately looking for her, for that cream-coloured dress and the distinct tones of her hair.

The shouting fades out as his eyes lock on her, a dying white rose gripped behind his back. The boy from her district tries to help, but she turns him down. She sits carefully on the edge before lowering herself down, reaching out to gently pat his shoulder in a silent thank you once her feet are back on solid ground.

Coriolanus's feet are carrying him in her direction in under a second. "Hello." He says, clearing his throat and holding the rose out to her as she turns to face him. It's hard to remain indifferent to her beauty, to remain unaffected by the face of a District girl. How did she look so calm? She radiated an aura of peace and he could feel it in the air that surrounded her. What a shame it was that it would evaporate so suddenly in the coming weeks.

"Hi there." You smile, eyes locked on his. You hadn't expected your first interaction with a Capitol citizen to be so pleasant, but you tried to have faith in people. So far, it is paying off as you eye the boy in front of you. His blue eyes and blonde curls were incredibly welcoming, despite the harshness present in the red colouring of his suit.

"Welcome to the Capitol." He smiles, holding the rose out to you. Your cheeks flush as you take the flower from his hand.

"For the rose, though its petals be torn asunder, still smiles on..." You hum, mostly to yourself as you look over the flower you're holding gently in your palm. "Thank you."

"I beg your pardon?" Coriolanus asks, tilting his head at the girl in front of him.

"It's from a poem." You explain. "Roses are representative of things far deeper than love."

"Oh, I see." He replies, still confused.

"What is your name?" You ask, returning your attention to him.

"Coriolanus Snow."

"Coriolanus." You grin. "Is that why you came to greet me?"

He furrows his brow, quickly shaking off his confusion. "No, I am here because I will be your mentor in the games."

"The use of the term 'mentor' implies personal experience." You state, feeling the softness of the rose's petals between your fingers. "But I doubt you're a victor yourself."

"Well, no, but I will try my best to take care of you while you're here." He says, nervous about how much that answer will buy him your trust.

"How ironic." You giggle, tilting your head at him.

"Move!" A peacekeeper pushes past your new friend, shoving you in the opposite direction.

"It was lovely to meet you, Coriolanus! Until we meet again!" You call back at him, smiling down at the rose in your hand as you're corralled toward a truck parked ahead of the train.

"Excuse me," He tries to get the attention of one of the peacekeepers while you are being ushered away from him. "I'd like to escort my tribute to-"

He's completely ignored both times he tries, following after the group of tributes on the way to the truck. He watches you as you ascend the stairs, standing against the back wall. Smiling, still, at the rose he had gifted you from his grandma'ams garden. All the persuasion it took for her to spare just one was worth it just seeing the look on your face now.

Impulsively, as one of the other tributes tries to make a run for it, he bolts up the staircase and into the truck, tucking himself against the back wall next to you while the peacekeepers are distracted.

You look up at him, shocked he would put himself in this position willingly. Surely, he was not meant to. The doors slam closed, and he lifts his head after avoiding catching the attention of the peacekeepers who had ignored him before. "Hello again." You whisper, looking up at him.

"Hi." He whispers back, turning slowly and trying not to cower under the hateful gaze of other tributes.

"What's the matter, pretty boy?" Reaper asks, standing opposite of the two of you. "In the wrong cage?"

"No." Coriolanus replies quickly. "This cage is delightful."

The District Eleven boy is quick to walk over, slamming Coriolanus back against the wall behind you. You gasp, taking the slightest step back. There wasn't much room for movement, and the sway of the moving vehicle was unforgiving.

"I'll kill you-" Reaper threatens him, and the girl from his District speaks up.

"He will. He killed a peacekeeper in Eleven, no one ever knew who did it."

"I say we all kill him."

"Oh, let's not evince what they think of us so quickly." You interject, steadying yourself against the bench behind you. "Only your families will suffer. The pain of one is not worth the loss of others." You look up at him, giving him a reassuring smile. "He's my mentor. I think he's here to help."

"How come you get a mender?" Coral asks, inconvenienced by your rejection of the idea.

"Mentor." Coriolanus corrects her. "You each get one."

"Oh, and we'll all just trust you on that?"

"Like she said, I'm just here to help you." Coriolanus sighs, uncomfortable under Reaper's tight grip on the front of his shirt.

"Why does she get special treatment?" Her attention is turned to you now. "Why aren't our menders here?"

"Here." You say, holding the flower out toward her. "I'm sure they'll come meet you soon, but until then, I'm happy to share."

Coriolanus watches you, breath hitching as you so carelessly offer the gifted rose to another who only wants to see the both of you dead. He's flooded with a mix of anger and admiration- it was hard to tell with what little he knew about you whether or not the action was derived from ignorance or compassion.

Before she can say anything or take the rose from your hand, there's a beeping followed by the steady tilt of the truck. Without thinking, Coriolanus grabs onto your waist as the other tributes stumble and fall back toward the doors. While you return the action of securing yourself to him, he holds onto a loose strap to keep you both in place when the doors fly open and everyone is dumped out, falling down the rocks below.

It isn't long before his hand slips, and the two of you slide down together, losing your hold on each other. Instinctively, you curl up as you roll down over the rocks, holding the precious flower into your chest to try and prevent it from being crushed. You're sore, immediately, and no doubt have some cuts and bruises, but the rose is okay. That makes you feel better as you carefully get up.

You look around, for the first time taking in your new surroundings and realizing you're being watched by many people from outside the bars of this new cage. It looked like you were in a zoo. You had always wanted to go to the zoo, you had read about them in books or heard stories but you and no one you know had ever been to one before.

"You there! In the red! Who are you and why are you in there with them? We're live!" You hear someone shouting and look in Coriolanus's direction as he stumbles to get up next to you.

You can see the panic set in as he looks around at everyone watching. He wasn't meant to be here, this must be embarrassing for him, and that was reflected in how his breathing picked up and his gaze shifted rapidly. "Shall we go say hello?" You ask softly, giving him a small, reassuring smile as you carefully place a hand on his arm to try and ground him. "No one is laughing at you, I think they're just curious."

Coriolanus looks down at you and nods, smiling slightly and ignoring the man as he continues to shout in your direction. "Y/N Y/L/N, may I introduce you to my neighbours?" He asks, confidence regained and you nod.

"Please." You smile, allowing him to take the rose from your hand. At first, you are a little disappointed, you were hoping you would get to keep it, but then when he snaps the stem and reaches up your disappointment quickly disappears as he tucks it gently behind your ear.

His gaze on you is intense as he offers you his hand, which you carefully take. "Well, that's something you don't see every day... They're holding hands." You hear the man's voice again as Coriolanus guides you over to the bars. "Who are you, sir? What are you doing in the cage here?"

His questions go ignored by both of you, when your eyes land on some children walking up to the bars. You'd much rather speak to them. "Hi there, how do you do?" Coriolanus asks them. "My name is Coriolanus Snow, and this is my tribute, Y/N Y/L/N." He smiles at you, lifting your hand closer to his chest as he leans down to speak at the kids' level.

The kids look nervous as they shift their gaze from him to you, but that makes total sense. People like him they felt safe with, people like you they had certainly never met before. "What brought you two to the zoo today? See any animals you could tell me about?" You ask, trying to make them more comfortable as you crouch down.

The boy giggles. "No, there's no animals here. We're here to see you."

"Me?" You gasp, pressing your free hand to your chest. "Why thank you, young man. I am certainly honoured, but where are all the animals? Aren't we in a zoo?" You ask, and the young kids just look back at their parents. Clearly, the zoo had been empty long enough that they'd never known it any other way.

"That's a shame." You speak again when the kids have no answer for you. "When I was your age I wished for a trip to the zoo and after all these years I got one without animals. I should have been more specific. Whoever grants our wishes is sneaky like that." You smile at them, and they both nod as if they'll remember it forever.

"Do you know how to read?" The little girl asks you. "You're really pretty."

"Me? No, I'm not very pretty. This is far from my Sunday best, but you look just stunning sweetheart." You smile at her. "And as a matter of fact, I do know how to read. It's my favourite thing to do, just about."

"You speak very smart for a District girl." The boy agrees.

"Why thank you." You laugh slightly, masking your sadness. These kids are barely old enough to know what that means and they've already been told that you and your people are less than. It's a tragedy, but not their fault.

With that, you stand up straight again, deciding to finally acknowledge the man with the microphone, seemingly desperate for your attention. "Hello, sir. What's your name?" You ask, prompting laughter from his camera crew that confuses you.

"Don't laugh, not everyone has televisions out in the Districts." He tells them, turning back to you. "I'm Lucretius 'Lucky' Flickerman, but more enticingly, who are you, Y/N, from District Twelve?"

"That's me." You nod, smiling as he sticks the mic through the bars so it can pick up your voice. "I was born and raised there, never thought I'd get the chance to see the world but here I am." You nod.

"Here you are." Lucretius nods.

"Ah!" You gasp, after moments of turning over in your head where you knew his name from. Then you remembered. "Why shed tears that you must die? For if your past life has been one of enjoyment, and if all your pleasures have not passed through your mind, as through a sieve, and vanished, leaving not a rack behind, why then do you not, like a thankful guest, rise cheerfully from life's feast and with a quiet mind go take your rest." You quote excitedly, oblivious to the confusion on Coriolanus's face behind you as he watches.

"Why, yes, that is an interesting way to see it." Lucretius replies and you nod, a little disappointed yet again that he didn't understand, but you decide to just move on.

"Are you familiar with my mentor? His name is Coriolanus Snow." You turn your attention back to him, pulling his hand closer to your chest so he'll take a step forward and stand with you instead of behind. "Fitting name, if you ask me. He was the only one brave enough to come and say hello at the train station."

"So the gamemakers did tell you to jump in the cage with them?" Lucretius asks, holding the mic up to your new friend.

"They didn't tell me not to," Coriolanus answers. "They just said it was a mentor's job to introduce our tributes to the citizens of Panem. And I thought, well, if Y/N is brave enough to be here, then why shouldn't I be, too?"

"A Coriolanus indeed." You smile up at him, patting his arm as Lucretius hums. Coriolanus looks confused, but you are well used to that by now, so you just squeeze his hand.

"I think you're about to be whisked away, young man."

You both turn at the sound of feet behind you, and he's quickly being grabbed and pulled away from you. "Thank you, Coriolanus!" You call after him, sad at the expression on his face which shows he didn't want to leave you just yet.

And you were right, he really didn't want to leave you yet.

taglist: @soulessjourney, @keziahcore, @that-veela-girl, @motorsport, @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs, @Lanadelrey3, @rawrmameh, @3zae-zae3, @babyspice6, @pastel0rchid, @maysileeewrites, @articxari, @Urfavpouge, @Multivitaminfy, @baybieruth, @kitscutie, @annaelise, @serrendiipty, @fratboyharrysgf0201, @totallynotkaibiased, @stelleduarte, @klplynn, @secretsicanthideanymore, @bejeweledreverie, @fals3-g0d, @drewsandsebastianswife, @niicole-87, @queenofshinigamis

if your user has a strikethrough i wasn't able to tag you! i'm so sorry!

#tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas x reader #hunger games #the hunger games #thg fanfic #thg series #thg fanfiction #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coryo x reader #coryo snow #snow lands on top #snow x reader

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johns-prince · 6 months

Note

if you don’t mind, what are some of your favorite soft mclennon moments?

JOHN: I used to try to get George to rebel with me. I’d say to him, “Look, we don’t need these fuckin’ suits. Let’s chuck them out of the window.” My little rebellion was to have my tie loose with the top button of my shirt undone. Paul’d always come up to me and put it straight. [x]

PAUL: There’s a story that I used to straighten John’s tie before we went on stage. That seems to have become a symbol of what my attitude was supposed to have been. I’ve never straightened anyone’s tie in my life, except perhaps affectionately.

The Times Profile of Paul McCartney - 1982 [x]

“And John and Paul thought back to the time they’d been in Paris before. Flat-broke, unable to afford a taxi, without funds for a decent meal. ‘Maybe we’ll buy the Eiffel Tower this time’, said John with a grin.”

“The Beatles in Paris.” Beatles Book Monthly Magazine No. 8 (March 1964). [x]

““Okay, okay,” I said, “don’t go on, John.” I felt a surge of embarrassment because my instrument was the cause of such hilarity. “Look guys, that’s enough. What have you two been doing while we’ve been struggling to get here? I hope you’ve done some practising and got the song list sorted out?” I was getting more and more annoyed as this episode was dragging on. “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry Len. Paul and I have got it all sorted out. Haven’t we Paul? Paul! Paul! I said haven’t we Paul?” Paul McCartney looked up with a wry smile and paused. “Tonight will run just like clockwork. I am going to give the audience the best rendition of ‘Guitar Boogie’ they have ever heard this side of Garston.” “Hey, this is a new twist,” I said. “Paul just cracked a joke. He must have a sense of humour after all, John, shall we have him in the group?” John was enjoying the banter as ever. “Yeah, we’ll give him another try and if you don’t get it right this time, Jimmy,” Jimmy (James) was Paul’s first name, “then…” John waited to see the expression on Paul’s face. “Then we’ll,” again a pause, and by this time we were hanging on John’s next words, “then we’ll have to send him for some more guitar lessons!” Paul joined in the laughter and at that we were all back to normal.”

— Len Garry, John, Paul and Me: Before The Beatles. (1997) [x]

“One of my great memories of John is from when we were having some argument. I was disagreeing and we were calling each other names. We let it settle for a second and then he lowered his glasses and he said: “It’s only me.” And then he put his glasses back on again. To me, that was John. Those were the moments when I actually saw him without the facade, the armour, which I loved as well, like anyone else. It was a beautiful suit of armour. But it was wonderful when he let the visor down and you’d just see the John Lennon that he was frightened to reveal to the world.” [x]

“Whatever bad things John said about me, he would also slip his glasses down to the end of his nose and say, ’I love you’. That’s really what I hold on to. That’s what I believe. The rest is showing off.” [x]

“I remember being shocked one day when John started worrying about how people would remember him when he was gone. It was an incredibly vulnerable thing for him to come out with. I said to him then, ‘They’ll remember you as a fucking genius, because that’s what you are. But, you won’t give a shit because you’ll be up there, flying across the universe.’” [x]

“If John Lennon could come back for a day, how would you spend it with him?” “In bed.” — Paul McCartney answers questions for Q magazine, 1998. [x]

“John and I grew up like twins although he was a year and a half older than me. We grew up literally in the same bed because when we were on holiday, hitchhiking or whatever, we would share a bed. Or when we were writing songs as kids he’d be in my bedroom or I’d be in his. Or he’d be in my front parlour or I’d be in his, although his Aunt Mimi sometimes kicked us out into the vestibule!”

— September 26, 1997, “Paul McCartney - Meet The Beatle” by Steve Richards [x]

“We were recording the other night, and I just wasn’t there. Neither was Paul. We were like two robots going through the motions. We do need each other alot. When we used to get together after a month off, we used to be embarrassed about touching each other. We’d do an elaborate handshake just to hide the embarrassment… or we did mad dances. Then we got to hugging each other.”

— John Lennon, The Beatles by Hunter Davies [x]

Q: “What musician and composer do you respect most?” Paul: “No, I don’t know, really... John Lennon!” John: *mock-shy* “...Paul McCartney.” [x]

conversations with mccartney, paul du noyer [x]

“It was 8:30. I could hear people talking about the likelihood of a storm later on that evening. I can remember hoping that it would clear up before my cycle ride back to Wavertree. Up to now it had been an eventful day but very tiring and as a group, although committed to playing, we all wished that we could pack up and go home. All of us apart from John Lennon. I think that meeting Paul had whetted his appetite and by the time we went on stage for our session at 8:45 he looked refreshed and seemed to have a new sparkle, as though he had had an injection of renewed optimism and enthusiasm as he played and sang through our usual repertoire that evening. […] I went outside for some air and a smoke; John and Pete decided to come with me. We stood outside pulling on our cigarettes, enjoying the breeze that had risen with the oncoming storm. “Do you know, John,” remarked Pete as we stood outside, “I’ve never heard you sound as good as you did just then. I know you’re going to say that I’m not very musical but I could hear the difference. I can see that something’s happened to you. Even the skiffle numbers which I know you’re not that keen on sounded good. You seem to have put more effort into them.” “Pete’s right, John. I couldn’t help noticing it as well,” I said. John was silent for a few minutes, just enjoying his smoke. “I guess someone took the trouble to share what he knew with me and it’s just given me a little encouragement for the future, that’s all.” “Oh I see, you’re getting a little sentimental in your old age, aren’t you,” joked Pete, who had never seen his life-long friend in that light before. “Don’t be thick, Pete,” replied John, who seemed almost back to his normal abrupt self. “Come on, I need a drink.”” — Len Garry, John, Paul and Me: Before The Beatles. (1997) [x]

[x]

Paul's persistence and endless patience for John while he was dealing with the death of his mother Julia:

But Paul seemed to have limitless patience for John, sneaking away from his classes to drink coffee at the Jacaranda coffeehouse, or else spend the afternoon nursing pints and punching rock ‘n’ roll songs on the jukebox at Ye Cracke pub. Certainly, Paul preferred hanging out with his friend to grinding through lectures and assignments at his schoolboy’s desk at the Liverpool Institute. But the hours they spent together held an emotional significance, too. For even if they rarely spoke about the pain of losing their mothers, the mutual feelings of loss—and the rawness of John’s wound—gave them a connection that was as vital as it was unspoken. It was, Paul said later, a “special bond for us, something of ours, a special thing.” … “We could look at each other,” Paul said, “and know.””

…

John, however, had other things on his mind. Though the fall of 1958 and well into 1959, John was far too busy engaging in art-school life—if not exactly his studies—to think much about playing in a rock ‘n’ roll band. He had started dating another student, a quiet blonde from the relatively posh Hoylake district on the Wirral, named Cynthia Powell. She proved a warm, stabilizing influence, which helped mitigate John’s ongoing grief and rage.

He had also grown particularly close to one of the school’s most promising students, a blazingly talented painter named Stuart Sutcliffe, whose emotional portraits and densely wrought abstracts had already caught the eye of the university’s instructors, along with the gallery owners, artists and critics who orbited the bohemian section that bordered the campus. John had been drawn to Stu’s talent, too, and when his classmate invited John to move into his large, if downtrodden, flat around the corner from the college in a row of once-elegant homes on Gambier Terrace, the two art students became even closer. The flat became a hub for their college friends, a reliable address for drinking bouts and all-night parties.

Nevertheless, Paul made certain not to be a stranger. He was a regular around Gambier Terrace, often toting his guitar to spur a little playing and singing, and if circumstance permitted, a bit of songwriting. John remained an eager music fan, and generally enthusiastic partner for playing and singing. But his disinterest in the band, prompted at least in part by his deepening friendship with Stu, frustrated Paul.

…

John was moving on, and not in a promising direction. George, for his part, had grown sick of waiting and joined the jazz-and-skiffle centered Les Stewart Quartet, though he made it clear to Paul he’d be back with the Quarrymen whenever they resumed playing. Paul, on the other hand, wasn’t interested in playing with anyone else. For whatever combination of emotional or visceral reasons, he couldn’t seem to imagine a musical life that didn’t include John Lennon as his primary partner.

So he persisted, dragging his guitar to Gambier Terrace, making himself a fixture amid the empty beer bottles, overflowing ashtrays, shattered Vicks inhalers, and paint-splattered clothes.

If John didn’t evince any interest in being in a band, Paul would simply wait, guitar at the ready, until he did.

— Peter Ames Carlin, Paul McCartney: A Life [x]

#mclennon #john lennon #paul mccartney #just to name a few!#anthology of mclennon

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dubiousculturalartifact · 2 months

Text

fanny price DOES get a great happy ending, fight me

like okay no, fanny does not successfully tame the Rake and reform him into a sexy sexy faithful husband. yes, we could argue all day about whether edmund bertram is underrated or a soggy biscuit of a man, but that fact is ultimately IRRELEVANT. HE is irrelevant except as like. a piece of the broader picture the ending of mansfield park only sucks if you're viewing it from the extremely narrow and shallow lens of like: the modern capital R romance, where the woman's happily-ever-after is defined by her attaining the Ideal/Most Desirable Man™. but that's not what the novel is about!

fanny price's happy ending is BEING PROVEN RIGHT AND HER WORTH ACKNOWLEDGED after putting up with YEARS of fucking bullshit despite CONSTANTLY being a better judge of character, of morals, of good sense, than literally ANYONE ELSE AROUND HER. fanny price's happy ending is her spending months going 'HMM I"M GETTING BAD VIBES' and everyone saying 'stfu fanny you don't know shit' and at the end of the novel she gets to watch everyone else either blows up their entire life as a result of ignoring The Vibes, or fall over her trying to apologize because HOLY SHIT FANNY WHY DID WE NOT LISTEN TO YOU ABOUT THOSE VIBES and people being like WE TOOK YOU SO FUCKING FOR GRANTED WE FUCKED UP'

and she is like: yes, I know this, and finally everyone else does too, and that is literally all i have ever wanted in life fanny price's happy ending is people apologizing and acknowledging her worth fanny price's happy ending is basically the equivalent of her sitting there smiling with genteel energy while her inner self is performing this dance

and honestly: i love that for her

#mansfield park #jane austen #fanny price #are you ever like: i need to go to bed early #but i need to yell at the internet about mansfield park more

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dreamescapeswriting · 3 months

Text

Beyond Apperances ~ LF

WORD COUNT: 1.7K

GENRE: established relationships, comfort fic, Felix comforting reader who is feeling a little insecure, mentions of feeling ugly,

PAIRING: Felix X Fem!Reader

⤜MASTERLIST

In the serene atmosphere of the University library, you find yourself nested among rows and rows of bookshelves scrolling through your phone trying not to let the tears you were holding back go.

Lately, there have been some dumb trends going around on the internet of transformation videos of people going from "ugly" to "gorgeous", from "ugly duckling" to "swan" and your phone was being bombarded with them. Which wouldn't be an issue if it wasn't making you feel so shitty or it. There was one common theme in all of the transformations you were being shown and that was-

Glasses coming off, and their hair being down or styled a different way and instantly your heart sunk every time you watched someone transform like that. The first part of the videos was how you dressed, glasses were always perched on your nose, and your hair was always styled in an updo, not because it was easy but it was because you'd always been comfortable that way. That and it always seemed to frame your face better if you wore your hair that way, something you had always seen as beautiful to you but now you weren't so sure.

The longer you scrolled through the trend the more you began to wish you could see yourself through the lens of the transformations, to shed your glasses and change your hair just so you could be seen as conventionally beautiful. But every time you'd tried to picture yourself like that, you felt guilt and betrayal toward your own identity.

Sighing to yourself you put your phone down on the table and laid your head down on your book, you needed time away from social media and everything about that dumb trend.

"I bought us both hot chocolates, I also got us some baked goods and a packet of sweets because I figured we would...need..." Felix's voice trailed to a stop as he found you sitting with your head on your book.

"Yn are you okay?" He sat down across from you, the two of you were supposed to be working on a project together but he could already sense that something was wrong and he was going to do anything to make it better.

"I'm fine," You lied, lifting your head up and carefully taking the hot chocolate your boyfriend had gotten for you. Felix narrowed his eyes at you, he knew you were lying but he didn't want to push you too hard when he knew you would come to him when the timing was right.

"Okay, well. I highlighted everything I thought was important to the presentation, I think if we can add in a little flare we can win over our professor," Felix continued to talk about the presentation the two of you were supposed to be working on but your eyes had travelled behind him when you saw Kathrine Webber.

She was one of the prettiest girls in the school and she'd been one of the ones to bring the trend to life you couldn't help but feel jealous of her as you watched her closely. Her long black hair was curled and styled down her chest, she wore light makeup and looked as though she'd stepped right off the pages of a magazine.

"Yn...Are you listening?" Felix asked, snapping your attention back to him as you swallowed the nervous lump in your throat,

"Actually, I think I just need some fresh air," You said, your voice coming out a tad shaky.

"But-"

"I'm not feeling great, I'll work on the project at home," Without even giving Felix a chance to say anything you got up, dragging your bag and practically sprinting out of the library so fast you'd left behind a cloud of smoke. But you couldn't stay there, there was no way you were able to do it not with everything going on in your head.

As you walked home you couldn't help your mind going back to the videos you'd been seeing and feeling the doubt creep back over you. You hadn't been insecure about your glasses since you were in primary school when all the kids teased you for it.

Your glasses had been a constant companion since you were a child, a necessity since you'd been born with nearsightedness and you'd grown accustomed to them over the years. But you couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that they were now, somehow, detracted from your beauty. Was it really that awful to wear glasses?

In this day and age everything was accepted and thought of as beautiful so why was this trend so damn popular. Inadequacy began to gnaw at you from the inside, doubts flooded your mind as you thought back on the videos. Would Felix love you more if you suddenly wore your hair differently or took off your glasses? Would you finally get seen as "beautiful" in the eyes of society?

As you lay in bed that night, your thoughts began to swirl deeper with insecurities and you couldn't help but wonder if you were ever able to see yourself as beautiful.

Anxiety bloomed inside of your chest as you walked through the halls of your university and you could have sworn people were beginning to stare at you which made you more nervous about what you'd done.

All weekend you'd spent your time getting ready to transform yourself, you'd invested in some contact lenses, gotten your hair done and you had felt confident until people were staring at you. The was now doubt nagging at you as you walked through the halls, was this who you were supposed to be?

Completely lost in your thoughts, you barely even noticed as Alex walked toward you,

"Whoa." He breathed, his voice filled with genuine admiration as you smiled at him, your cheeks beginning to burn.

"You look...incredible," You'd been hoping for his approval but the intensity of his reaction was taking you by surprise. Was this what he wanted you to look like?

"Thanks...I wanted to try something different, to see if I could change." You admit, your voice barely coming out above a whisper. Felix stepped closer, his gaze never wavering from yours,

"You look so beautiful," A pang of uneasiness filled you, and tears began to build up as you stared at him. This whole thing had been a mistake and you suddenly felt sick,

"Do you prefer me like this?" Your voice broke as you stared at him, waiting for him to say something but he was completely taken aback as he stared at you,

"What?" He chuckled nervously, Wondering what you were talking about.

"With my hair different and my glasses gone...Do I look better?" He could see the way your mind was ticking and he shook his head at you,

"Yn." He started but you shook your head, stuttering a little as you took a step back from him. Suddenly it felt as though the walls were closing in on you and you needed to get out of there, to go home and change again.

"I have to go," You whispered, taking off but this time Felix was behind you, running after you as you hid in the library.

Slowly Felix walked up at you, you were staring up at the ceiling trying not to let the tears flow freely.

"Yn..." He trailed off, his hand gently rubbing your back as you sniffled a little.

"Tell me what's going on baby, or I can't help," You nodded a little, swallowing the lump that was in your throat. You hesitated for a moment before pouring out everything you'd been thinking about to Felix - your insecurities about your appearance, the longer to see yourself as beautiful without conforming to society's standards and your fear that you'd never measure up to images you saw online.

Felix listened intently the whole time, his heart breaking at the sight of you being so vulnerable, he reached out gently and wiped the tear off your cheek.

"Yn, look at me." He said,his voice stern but soft all at the same time.

"You're beautiful just the way you are...Your intelligence, your kindness your strength- those are things that make you truly stunning," He breathed out as you stared at him.

"But what about my glasses? My hair?" You mumbled a little, your head looking down at the floor until Felix tilted you back to look at him,

"Your glasses are a part of who you are, just like your hair being styled up. They're not something you should hide or even be ashamed of...They're part of what makes you unique and what makes you, you." He smiled warmly at you, your chest squeezing tightly as you felt peace settling over you.

"You're beautiful now but you're even more beautiful than before," He smiled at you, reaching into his bag and finding the spare pair of glasses he kept around for you.

"I have your spares if you wanna change the contacts," He offered your head slowly nodding as you carefully took out the contacts that had been irritating you all morning.

"They're annoying anyway," You mumbled, throwing them into a nearby bin and putting on your glasses again, earning a giant grin from your boyfriend.

At that moment you felt a weight lift off your shoulders, Felix wrapped his arms around you bringing you into a tight embrace.

"You know you can be anything you want to be, but Yn...Never forget you're already perfect just the way you are..." He smiled at you, kissing your temple softly.

"Beauty isn't defined by appearance, it's defined by the kindness in your heart, the intelligence in your mind and the love you give to everyone," Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears as you gazed up at Felix, your arms wrapping around him tightly.

"Thank you...For always seeing me, loving me and seeing me for who I am." You sniffled as he kissed the top of your head.

"I love you," He told you, looking up at the clock and smirking.

"How about we skip and just go get snacks...We can watch cheesy films all day." He suggested as you snuggled closer to him,

"Sounds perfect to me." You breathed out, the two of you walking out of the library and in the direction of the exit.

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