#JOKING ABOUT THE LAST BIT. BTW. LOL

[e77y]

Forget “9/11 caused Ellen Degeneres’ cancellation.” Can we talk about how socialism caused us all to have to witness Jojo Siwa cheating on her partner with a man on live TV? The commies have done it again smh

[sysig]

Wuh oh (Patreon)

Bonus:

The novel experience of being crushed by a giant rock, a visual metaphor

[janniks1nner]

the REAL tragedy of having my phone stolen is that i'm gonna have to rebuild my meme folder from scratch 😔😔😔😔

[the-flaneur]

the enemy of my friend is my enemy, but he's also his own worst enemy? so he's my friend? (nr6) | pt2

pairing: nico rosberg x hamilton!reader [smau]

summary: in an attempt to plan a surprise birthday party for your brother's 39th birthday, you enlist the help of his ex-??? to get into his apartment

warnings: none (i think)

[prev] [masterlist] [requests]

-> messages

-> twitter

-> messages

-> instagram

f1gossipofficial

liked by user1, user2, user3 and others

f1gossipofficial well apparently three of our drivers have been spotted in monaco alongside a broken down car and a number of balloons. they were also spotted quickly getting into a tinted window car. we wonder who the driver of the second car is?

view all comments

user1 damnnn they're looking fine today 🤤🤤🤤

user2 finally someone feeding us gossip worthy content, istg this year has been sooooo boring, like where's the spice (but this barely counts btw, someone do something more entertaining lol) user3 but like who were the balloons for??? cause there was A LOTTTTTT and none of their birthdays are soon? user4 nah watch it be like an ex-girlfriend of all of them, the f1 dating pool is a puddle 💀💀💀

user5 lol the amount of people who immediately flocked to the car after seeing them get out of it, like if it was anyone else, those rich people would be honking the hell out of them lol

user6 nah fr fr, like a supercar just stopped bang smack in the middle of a busy monaco street, but everyone cares more about taking pics of the drivers and themselves with the car 🤣🤣

user7 i wonder why they're all together, usually post-padel we never get any interactions of them together, only max and lando

user8 lol stalker level insight right here

user9 that other car is smexy as hell 😻😻😻

user10 ikrrrrr like someone hook me up with a sugar daddy so i can get a nice car collection user11 nah that driver is probs just another wannabe businessman or entrepreneur 😖 user12 lol just watch it be some random ass youtuber pandering for views

user13 OK SOMEONE PLEASE BE AS DELUSIONAL AS ME AND TELL ME THAT'S NICO ROSBERG'S CAR

user14 girlie pop wtf user15 nah she might actually be onto something, istg nico mentioned on insta that he got a new car that looks superrr similar to the one in the pic 🤔

liked by user16, user17, user18 and others

f1gossipofficial well apparently someone was able to get a view inside the car as the drivers opened the door to get in, and apparently nico rosberg was the one driving the car 😱😱😱 stay tuned for more updates

view all comments

user16 OH MY OH MY GODDDDD GUYS IS THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENING RIGHT NOW, SOMEONE PINCH ME RN OMG

user17 ya'll he's BACKKKKKKKK WITH THE F1 GRID user18 GUYS WE'VE BEEN ROBBED FOR YEARS OF A POST NICO ROSBERG CASUAL HANGOUT WITH THE REST OF THE GRID 😭😭😭😭😭

user19 damnnnn this man has aged like fine wine

user20 even with the brocedes trauma, both men are looking great in their late 30s 😙

user21 since when did charles and lando be so like...friendly with rosberg? he's never been on the grid with them... 🤨🤨

user22 i mean he does do the post race interviews, but even that's a bit too professional to have any like "friendship" user23 yeah...interesting.... 🤔 user24 idk maybe recently they've just been able to have more conversations? i mean they all live in monaco, and ig theres not that many places where you wont bump into an f1 driver 🤷🤷

user25 guys does this mean we're getting a y/n nico reunion??? cause the three of them said they were going to visit y/n

user26 nah that was probably as a joke ngl, like they probably saw her earlier today or something 👁️👄👁️ user27 yeah im sure it means absolutely nothing user28 lol famous last words amirite 🙏🙏🙏

-> messages

-> instagram

y/n.hamilton

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and others

y/n.hamilton guess which rats im babysitting tonight in monacoooooo 🐀🐀🐀

view all comments

user29 Y/N MOTHER WITH HER GRID CHILDRENNNNNN, I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOUR ❤️❤️❤️

user30 i love her so muchhhh, she just brings the energy all the time user31 i need her in the paddock next year, cause we've been robbed this year of content 😿 user32 fr fr like i need to see my women decked out in her multi team fits complete with a hamilton jersey 💋💋💋

user33 AHHHH THE BOYS LOOKING REALLY GOOD WITH THEIR GIRL TONIGHT

user34 she literally has the cutest friendship with them <3

user35 wait ya'll....is anyone connecting the dots like i am 🕵️🕵️🕵️

user36 ❓❓❓ user37 guys wasn't nico just with them...🧐

user38 OH MY GOD OH MY GOD GUYS I THINK MY HEART JUST MIGHT EXPLODE?!?!?!?!?

user39 GUYS IS IT TRUE??? NICO AND Y/N REUNION IN 2023 🤭🤭

user40 YA'LL WE'RE FINALLY GETTING THE BRIT AND BRAT DUO BACK??? GUYS THIS IS TRULY A CULTURAL PHENOMENON FOR THE ELITE 🔥😍🔥😍🔥😍🔥

user41 GUYS 2016 Y/N-NICO TRUTHERS ARISE ONCE AGAIN, WE'VE BEEN DEAD FOR TOO LONG 🙏🙏🙏 user42 guys...i don't think i can be normal after this 🥴🥴🥴

user43 DOES ANYONE HAVE ANY PICTURES OR VIDEOS OF THEM TOGETHER, YOUR HONOUR PLEASE 😭 THIS IS THE ONLY TIME I WILL APPROVE OF PAPARAZZI CAUSE I NEED TO SEE WITH MY PHYSICAL EYEBALLS THAT Y/N AND NICO HAVE SEEN EACH OTHER

user44 😳😳😳 i hate to say it....BUT LOWKEY SAME PLS SOMEONE DO UR THING

-> messages

-> twitter

[next]

permanent f1 taglist (comment or msg me to join)

@charlesgirl16 @tallrock35 @sweate-r-weathe-r @unlikelystay @alex-wotton

@daisyfreecs @euphorihan @louloucs @oikarma

enemy or friend (this) series taglist (comment or msg me to join)

@menagerofmischief @mxdi0 @mixedstyles @tinystudentblaze-stuff

@a-beaverhausen

© the-flanuer || do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platform.

[celestialgallaghers]

White Mustang: Friday [18+]

final part omg. thank you so much for all the love and support of this series it really means a lot 💖. This isn't the end btw. I have an epilogue planned, but idk when it'll be posted. I wanna get back to writing about liam for a change lol. I hope you guys like it i had so much fun with this whole series <3.

Prelude | Saturday | Sunday | Monday | Tuesday | Wednesday | Thursday | Friday

Word count: 14.5k

Friday

The next day was sweltering. The kind of heat that clung to your skin and made the air feel thick. No one really had the motivation to do much, so eventually everyone ended up by the pool, stretched out under the sun with cold drinks in hand, slipping in and out the water to cool off.

You’d gone into town with Emily and come back armed with supplies for margaritas. By midafternoon, everyone was sun kissed and half-drunk, music drifting from the small speaker Emily had hooked up. Everything felt easy.

You were sitting cross legged in a pool chair, hair still damp, sunglasses sliding down your nose, sipping a margarita that was mostly just tequila at this point. Your dad and Noel were swapping stories, talking shit and laughing like they always did. You joined in when you could, but mostly you listened. 

But beneath it all, you were hyper aware of every glance Noel threw your way. Especially when you climbed out of the pool, water trailing down your skin, bikini clinging to you, and the weight of his gaze tracked you. If he was trying to hide it, he was doing a piss poor job.

You weren’t sure if he was serious about “going easy” on him. You’d been half-joking when you said it but then he’d agreed. Maybe it was just his way of telling you not to be a tease.

You hadn’t been trying to. Not really. You weren’t doing anything different than you would’ve if he wasn’t here. It wasn’t your fault he couldn’t stop looking…okay, maybe a little bit was your fault. But he didn’t have to look.

When everyone’s drinks started running low, you slipped inside, grateful for a reason to cool off. You made your way into the kitchen and busied yourself slicing limes, the citrus sticking to your fingers.

You didn’t hear him at first. Not until his arms bracketed the counter on either side of you, caging you in. Your breath caught as his chest brushed your back, solid and sun warmed. 

“You look so fuckin’ fit in that little bikini,” he murmured against the shell of your ear. His voice was low, stirring something deep in your core.

“It’s quite distracting,” he added, hips pressing lightly against the swell of your ass.

Your mind tried to remember where you were, who else was just outside. But all of that went fuzzy with him this close.

“We can’t do this here,” you whispered, glancing quickly toward the sliding glass door. Technically, you were out of sight. But anyone could wander in. And he wasn’t exactly being subtle.

He didn’t budge. “That’s what I said last night,” he said, amusement curling through his voice. “Didn’t stop you then.”

Heat flared in your cheeks. He wasn’t wrong. You’d been reckless. Desperate to feel him. And lucky no one had caught you. But still…

“It’s different now,” you said, the words thin, unconvincing even to yourself. “People are awake.”

“I know.” His voice was maddeningly calm, even as his hands slid from the counter to your waist, fingers grazing bare skin. Goosebumps chased their path.

Then, gently, he turned you. And just like that, you were face to face. Trapped in the full weight of his gaze. Those eyes gleamed with something unreadable. 

Was he doing this on purpose? Trying to get you to break? And he’d had the nerve to call you the tease.

“Are you trying to get me to kiss you?” you asked, narrowing your eyes, voice quiet. “Is that what this is?”

He just shrugged. Maybe he was. Maybe this was how he asked for it without the words. Or maybe he needed it just as badly as you did. 

With one last glance toward the door, you gave him the smallest concession—a soft peck before you turned back around. That was all he was getting.

Or so you thought.

Before you could even exhale, his hands were on you again. Spinning you back around and pulling you into him. His mouth crashed onto yours with far more force this time..

You gasped as he hoisted you onto the counter, the cold surface biting into your thighs. You knew better. You knew someone could walk in. But your body had already decided. Every rational thought disintegrated the moment he touched you.

And he knew it too. You felt him grin against your mouth the moment you gave in. His hand slid around to the small of your back, pushing you closer as if there were any space left. But there was. Just enough that when you locked your legs around his waist and pulled him in, it knocked the breath out of him.

He faltered, just for a second. His lips broke from yours with the faintest hint of surprise before he recovered, slipping his tongue into your mouth with maddening ease.

The sudden intensity, the roughness, the heat of his mouth, it all had you immediately worked up and throbbing for him. And somewhere in the back of your mind a thought flickered. 

By this time tomorrow he’ll be gone. 

It only urged you to kiss him harder. Your hand slid into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. You felt the way he leaned into it and the quiet sigh he let out made your stomach flip. You’d noticed it last night. The way he responded to it. Filed it away. And now you were using it against him. The thrill of it made you bolder. You tightened your grip and gave a gentle tug.

The groan he let out was quiet but hot, going straight to your core. But then he pulled away, breath ghosting against your lips. “Thought you said you’d go easy on me.” 

“Turn you on that much does it?” you teased, pulling a bit harder. 

That earned you a look. He exhaled through his nose, clearly fighting back another noise, much to your dissatisfaction. But instead of answering, he stepped away entirely.

You blinked, breath still uneven. His gaze lingered on you. Flushed. Legs spread. Head tipped back against the cabinets like you’d already been wrecked by just a kiss. Maybe you had.

It was like he was memorizing it. Memorizing you. Maybe he was. Maybe he didn’t want to forget this either. You stared right back, trying to do the same.

Then, almost casually cruel, he let out a low chuckle, patted your thigh softly, and turned to walk out without another word.

You stared after him, dazed and buzzing. Your lips tingled. Your whole body tingled. And when you finally slid off the counter, your knees almost gave out.

You tried to refocus, staring at the half-sliced limes in front of you. But your hands were still shaking and your mind was nowhere near that kitchen. You nearly sliced your finger clean off.

Back outside, Noel acted like nothing had happened. If anything, he was staring more brazenly now. But you could feel the shift.

He’d done it on purpose. Wound you up and left you wanting.

You’d been doing so well too. So controlled. But now you were buzzing again, your heart beating too fast, mind fuzzy from the drink you’d downed the second you finished passing everyone else theirs. 

You slipped back into the pool in silence, desperate for the cold shock of water to ease the heat. You let yourself drift, eyes closed, tuning out the murmur of voices nearby. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know he was still watching. You felt it. That slow burn of his gaze tracking your movements.

When you finally climbed out, you made it a point not to look at him. You toweled off slowly, letting the sun dry the rest, and made yourself your new drink. But even as you rejoined the others, you couldn’t shake the memory of his mouth. The phantom weight of his hands.

He looked entirely unbothered. Laughing at something your dad said, gesturing with his glass, legs stretched out like he hadn’t just had you pinned to the kitchen counter twenty minutes ago.

It was maddening. He was maddening.

The afternoon wore on and the heat was starting to hit everyone hard. Your dad retreated upstairs for a nap, Emily wandered off with a book, and suddenly it was just you and Noel.

You sat at the edge of the pool with your back to him, feet dangling in the water. You could hear the soft clink of ice in his glass behind you. The rustle of him shifting. And then the quiet creak of a chair.

Then came the faint splash as he settled beside you, slipping his feet into the pool too. A respectful distance away, but still close enough that you could feel the presence of him.

Your body tensed anyway. But he didn’t say anything. Not right away. For a moment, all you could hear was the gentle ripple of the water and the wind stirring the trees overhead.

“Funny how we keep ending up alone together,” Noel said eventually, his voice low, like it didn’t want to disturb the stillness.

“Funny how no one’s seemed to notice it either,” you said, still facing forward.

He gave a dry little laugh. “Nah. They’ve noticed. They just think we’ve got some sort of…special bond.”

That caught you off guard. You turned toward him, brows lifting in amusement. “Do we now?”

He met your eyes and bumped his knee lightly against yours. “’Course we do. We birthed an album together, didn’t we? Think that earns us some lifelong soul tie or summat. You owe me child support, by the way. I’ve raised it all these years on my own.”

You snorted. “So what, that makes you the mother?”

“Obviously,” he said, deadpan. “You inseminated me and ran off. Textbook absentee father behavior, by the way. Very progressive of you.”

It was so ridiculous that you laughed despite yourself. It cracked the tightness in your chest and sent something fluttering loose behind your ribs.

But then the laughter faded. Because your gaze caught on his mouth. Still curved in that lopsided grin. Lips wet from the beer he was sipping. 

You wanted to kiss him again. God, you ached to. You’d been restless with it ever since he left you high and dry in the kitchen. It was reckless flirting like this out in the open where anyone could hear. But logic didn’t stand a chance.

Your eyes trailed to the bottle in his hand.

“Give us it,” you said, nodding towards it. 

He followed your gaze then raised the bottle slightly. “What, this?”

You nodded, holding out your hand expectantly.

“No I don’t think I will,” he said smugly. 

You leaned in to grab it, but he pulled it just out of reach, eyes gleaming as your fingers caught only air. You tried again and he stretched his arm higher, smirk deepening.

You made an annoyed sound. “Do you enjoy denying me things?”

A wicked grin spread across his face as he brought the bottle back to his lips, deliberately taking a long sip, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

You snatched it mid-sip, yanking it away with more force than intended. He choked on a laugh, a splash of beer dribbling down his chin as his head tipped back.

You turned your body away from him triumphantly and took an exaggerated swig. When he reached for it again you twisted further and drained what little was left out of spite.

Then you turned back to him slowly, victorious, and locked eyes. With pointed deliberation, you dragged your tongue along the rim of the bottle, gathering the last drops. You flicked your tongue over your lips to catch the rest, just to drive it home.

His gaze dropped and you felt it like a hand across your skin. “S’not very nice to finish a man's beer y’know.”

“It’s also not very nice to kiss someone and then walk away,” you shot back. “Leave them wanting all day.” 

The tequila still hummed in your blood, leaving you loose tongued and wanton. A dangerous mix around him.

His mouth curled lazily. “You’re feisty today.”

“No,” you said plainly, tone flat and eyes steady. “I’m frustrated.”

He cocked his head, voice dropping low. “How frustrated?” 

You held his gaze. “Frustrated enough that I had to lick every last drop of you off that bottle just to stop myself from sticking my tongue down your throat.”

That wiped the smirk clean off his face.

“And?” he asked, voice dark now. “Did it work? Are you satisfied?”

“Not even close.”

The air between you tightened, snapping taut with tension. His eyes dropped shamelessly to your chest, rising and falling with your uneven breath, while yours slid over the part in his shirt that exposed a tantalizing bit of skin. You felt feral with want. Feral and deeply, maddeningly denied.

You needed him again and badly. The only question now was whether his body could keep up with your hunger. You had to find out.

“I didn’t…” you hesitated, then forced the words out. “I didn’t go too hard on you last night, did I?”

His mouth curled. “So young and naive,” he murmured. “You gave it a valiant try, but no. Gonna take a hell of a lot more than that to break me.”

You knew he was teasing, but something about being called naive struck a nerve. 

“Oh yeah?” You said, narrowing your eyes. “Can you even get it up again grandpa?”

He huffed out a laugh, clearly delighted. “Don’t act like you’re all high and mighty. We both know that you’d be on your knees in a heartbeat if I said the word.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“So eager to know when you can have another go.” he said, tilting his head. “Maybe I’ll just say no. Maybe I won’t let you.”

You hated the way your stomach dropped at that. And judging by the flicker in his expression, he saw it. He saw everything. His grin widened as your momentary panic gave you away.

“You wouldn’t,” you said, trying to sound dismissive.

“Try me.”

You locked eyes, refusing to blink. But the heat in his stare was unbearable. You looked away first.

“What if I don’t let you,” you said. Because it was the only thing you could think to say.

He leaned in until his breath ghosted your cheek, voice barely above a whisper. “Now we both know you love my dick too much to even try that.”

The words hit you like a slap. Heat rushed to your face. And then lower. You hated how much it turned you on. How much you liked hearing it. Hated that he knew it.

You swallowed, trying to steady yourself, but your pulse was everywhere. Loud in your ears. Your throat. Between your legs.

He saw it. Felt the shift. And his grin turned wolfish. “No you can’t get enough of it, can you?” he murmured. “You love how deep I get inside you. I can feel it, you know. Feel how weak you get. How no one’s ever touched you like I have.”

You could barely breathe. He wouldn’t physically touch you here, but that wasn’t stopping him from caressing you with his words.

“Big talk for someone who came prematurely on my face like a teenager.” It was weak and that had been entirely your fault, but it was the only collateral you had.

He raised his eyebrows, grinning wider. “Because you couldn’t help yourself,” he said smoothly. “Couldn’t keep that mouth of yours to yourself.”

“Yeah?” you shot back. “You lost it after two strokes of my tongue.”

His grin widened into something smug and sinfully charming. “Don’t act like you didn’t love every second of it.”

Your breath caught. You had to get away from him. From this. Before you did something stupid. Like crawl into his lap, world be damned.

You leaned in, voice low enough for only him to hear. “I’m going to get in the shower,” you said. “You’re going to wait a respectable amount of time and then you’re going to follow me.”

He raised a brow. “Not sure you’re in the position to be making demands, love.”

But you were already on your feet, walking away.

The enclosed outdoor shower was warm and still. Steam curled up from the stone floor as you turned on the water, but you didn’t step beneath it. Instead, you lowered yourself onto the wooden bench and tried to steady your breathing.

Minutes passed. Maybe longer. The silence didn’t help. If anything it made the ache louder, pulsing through your body like a second heartbeat.

Maybe he wasn’t coming.

Your hand slid beneath your bikini bottoms before you could even think twice. Just to take the edge off, you told yourself.

The moment your fingers found that spot, relief bloomed through you. You leaned back against the wall, fingers circling, pressure growing. Your eyes fluttered shut. You were already so worked up from everything. His voice, his teasing, his refusal. Your legs fell further apart, pleasure shooting through your veins fast and sharp.

And then the door creaked.

Your eyes flew open just in time to see Noel slip inside, sans shirt. He froze, eyes locked on the spot where your hand disappeared beneath your swimsuit. His chest was rising and falling with shallow breaths, but the rest of him went still. 

You didn’t stop. You met his stare, never breaking rhythm, and watched as his throat bobbed with a swallow.

“What are you doing?” he asked, low and careful.

“Taking matters into my own hands,” you said, voice breathy but confident.

The way his jaw clenched sent a fresh pulse of want through you. His eyes were heavy, tracking every movement. But he didn’t move.

So you pushed further. 

You arched just enough to press deeper into your own touch, a quiet moan spilling from your lips. Then you used your free hand to tug your bikini top aside, baring one breast to the humid air. You ran your thumb across your nipple, gasping softly at the sensation.

Still nothing. Fine.

You dragged your fingers away from yourself, then reached for the tie at your hip and gave it a tug. The knot slipped loose. You mirrored the motion on the other side, teasing it undone until the fabric gave up and dropped, leaving you bare.

He still hadn’t moved. But his eyes were wild now.

You slid your fingers back through the slick between your thighs, slower this time, gathering everything you could with aching slowness. Then you raised your hand, lips parting slightly. 

You didn’t put them in your mouth. Not yet. You were taunting him now and he knew it. His nostrils flare, fingers twitching at his sides. He only muttered a soft curse as he stared, transfixed. You brought your fingers closer, just enough to graze your bottom lip.

And that’s when he snapped.

In an instant, he was on you. One hand caught your wrist, the other grabbed your thigh, dragging you forward with a roughness that made your breath catch. Then his mouth closed over your fingers, sucking them in with a low moan like something inside him had finally, violently broken.

“Knew you were all talk,” you murmured smugly, right up until his mouth crashed against yours, swallowing the rest of the sentence.

It wasn’t gentle. You moaned into his mouth as he grabbed your jaw, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and forcing the taste of yourself onto your tongue.

Then he hauled you up from the bench, your bikini bottoms falling away completely as your body followed his. He pressed you against the damp wooden wall, its cool bite a stark contrast to the heat radiating off his skin.

You grinned against his mouth, fingers sliding into his hair again, this time fisting it and yanking hard. He hissed at the sting, then bit your lip in retaliation, eyes darkening. Your hand slid down between you, cupping him through his swim shorts. You paused when you found him soft.

“You really can’t get it up, can you?” you said, half teasing, half genuinely disappointed.

“Give it time love,” he said lowly. “You’ll regret saying that later.”

The confidence in his voice sent a shockwave through you. The way he said it, not a threat but a promise, had your breath catching, heat curling low in your belly. You opened your mouth for another jab—

But then his thumb brushed over your clit, and every thought shattered.

Your head hit the wall with a soft thud, eyes fluttering shut as your hips jerked into his hand. The touch was fleeting, barely there until he slid two fingers inside you.

You gasped. But then—nothing. No movement. Just the feeling of being filled. Your eyes snapped open in confusion.

“If you’re so eager to get yourself off,” he murmured, “go on, then. Do it.”

You froze. His eyes held yours, steady and unmoving. It wasn’t a dare. It was an instruction.

So you moved. Rocked your hips forward slowly, experimentally, grinding down and dragging yourself along his still fingers. The stretch was there, but the friction was barely noticeable. His expression didn’t change, except for the faint, devilish smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He wasn’t going to help. He wanted to watch.

His fingers didn’t curl or even offer the smallest thrust. He remained completely still. You shifted your hips in frustration, trying to spark something, but only managed the faintest flicker of pleasure.

Your other hand slid down, desperate to finish what he’d started, but he caught your wrist before you got close. You gasped, staring up at him, chest rising in shaky bursts.

So you tried again. This time with the hand tangled in his hair. You dragged it down, reaching between you.

But you were barely able to touch yourself before he wrenched his fingers from you entirely and slammed your wrists back against the wall. Your chest heaved, mouth parted in a mix of disbelief and need.

He grinned and leaned in close to your face, boxing you in. “Not so fast,” he whispered against your ear. 

The quiet authority in his tone ignited your entire body. You hadn’t seen this side of him before, but now that it was here it made you thrum with hunger. You were ravenous for it, wishing you’d provoked it sooner.

You squirmed beneath his grip, chasing friction again.

“Tch,” he tutted. “Are you gonna behave?”

Something defiant flickered inside you, but it was quickly drowned out by how badly you needed more. You stilled, humbled by desire.

He grinned. “Good.”

He released one wrist, sliding his fingers back between your legs slowly. The relief made you tremble. When he let go of your other wrist, your hand rose to his neck to show that you weren’t going to act out again.

“Better,” he murmured, grazing your lips with his own.

You kissed him hard, gripping him tighter, rocking your hips against his hand. But the angle of his fingers was just shy of enough. The pressure only teased, coaxing your nerves to the edge without tipping them.

“At least angle your fingers better,” you whined after several minutes.

He laughed low in his throat, a sound that vibrated against your skin. “What, like this?”

He curled them hard. Right into that spot.

Your whole body convulsed. The breath punched out of you in a high, strangled moan as pleasure sliced through your belly and down your thighs. The buildup had been so excruciatingly slow that now the sensation came sharp and bright, dizzying in its intensity.

“Yeah,” you managed, grinding down again, more urgently now.

“All you had to do was ask.” 

And then his fingers were pistoning harder, curling with ruthless precision, knocking the breath right out of you. You hoped the water drowned out the loud moan you let out, shivering violently as pleasure flooded your nerves. His lips quickly returned to yours to smother any more sounds as he went deeper, swallowing your gasps.

Your body arched, the tension winding tighter and tighter, seconds from snapping. Your legs began to tremble, and your grip on his neck tightened.

“Noel,” you gasped, barely coherent. You could feel it cresting right there.

And then he stopped. Just like that.

You choked on the denial, your body seizing up with it. Your climax had been so close, and now it twisted painfully inside you, caught mid-breath with nowhere to go. Your eyes flew open and locked onto him.

“You bastard,” you choked. His fingers remained still inside you, making the ache that much worse. Your walls fluttered around them, begging for movement, desperate to be finished, anything.

“Ooh,” he tsked. “That’s not very nice is it? Considering I’ve got your orgasm literally in the palm of my hand.”

You exhaled hard through your nose, trying to rut against his fingers. Trying anything for just a fraction of pleasure. But he stepped back and withdrew his fingers completely.

A pathetic whine escaped you. Your body bucked forward from the loss. Your arms fell to your sides as the ghost of pleasure throbbed through you with nowhere to go. 

When you met his eyes again, the look nearly brought you to your knees. He was enjoying this. Too much.

“Look at you,” he murmured, dragging his wet fingers slowly down your inner thigh. The teasing path left goosebumps in its wake and you twitched at the contact, throat tight with a sound you refused to let out.

You glared at him, cheeks flushed. You weren’t sure if you wanted to slap him or kiss him until your lips went numb. Probably both. 

“You’re cruel,” you said quietly.

He smiled at that, then gently but firmly grabbed your jaw, tilting your head back until your mouth parted. He pressed those same slick fingers against your lips, and you didn’t hesitate, letting him slide them past your tongue. He groaned low in his throat at the sight of your mouth closing around them.

“You really thought I was just gonna give in?” he murmured, pulling his fingers back. “After all that mouth earlier?”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Then he stepped back again. Like he was done. Like he was going to leave.

You blinked, stunned. “You’re joking.”

No response.

“Fine,” you snapped, pulse thudding with rage and desperation. You slid your hand between your thighs, fingers sinking in easily, still warm and slick from him. The relief was instant, your body chasing the high it had been denied.

But you barely got into a rhythm before he spoke.

“Stop it.”

You ignored him, curling your fingers deep, pleasure returning like a tidal wave. Just a little more—

“I said stop.” 

Suddenly he was in front of you again, yanking your wrist away. You wrestled your arm from his grip, fire burning in your chest. 

“You can’t stop me from finishing myself off the minute you step out of this shower.”

He tilted his head, the curve of his mouth devilishly calm. “Can’t I?”

And god dammit, your body believed him, suddenly cold and dry. Already aching with loss. Like your nerves knew it was over before you did.

“You’ll get what you want,” he said, voice soft but edged with promise. “Eventually.”

Then he disappeared, leaving you alone with nothing but the sound of running water and the thrum of your pulse echoing in your ears.

That evening, the four of you got dressed up to go out. It was your dad’s idea. One final hurrah to celebrate before the trip came to a close. He picked a fancy rooftop bar downtown. One with panoramic views of the city and overpriced cocktails. You all agreed without much hesitation. Maybe it was the sun. Or the lingering tequila. Or that low hum of sadness that always comes with the end of something good.

You slipped into a black velvet dress—simple, but clinging in all the right places, the open back catching the breeze as you stepped into the night air. You weren’t dressing for him, not really, but you noticed the moment Noel’s gaze found you across the table. It lingered a beat too long before sliding away. A flicker of a smile tugged at your lips, but you fought it down.

You clinked glasses with Emily and threw yourself into conversation, a little guilty for how much of the trip you’d spent focused only on Noel. You rarely got this kind of time with her and she always managed to lift your mood.

Another drink in, your face was flushed with laughter, chest warm from gin. You were trying to stay present, to forget that everyone was leaving tomorrow. So you leaned into it. Let yourself forget, just a little longer.

Your dad was midway through one of his classic long winded stories, arms moving animatedly as he recalled something you’d heard countless times. You were laughing along when you felt the nudge of a knee against yours beneath the table. 

The contact was soft but deliberate and you had to fight your instinct to flinch. Your eyes snapped across the table where Noel was now very pointedly not looking at you, his tongue sweeping slowly across his bottom lip like he was trying not to smile.

Prick.

You inhaled sharply and shifted your legs out of his reach. He was not doing this here. You were still on edge from earlier. Pissed at the way he’d pushed you to the brink and left you there. And now he was testing your boundaries again.

Part of you was dangerously close to snapping and kicking him in return. The other wanted to slide your foot up his thigh and make him squirm.

Before you could decide, the waitress returned with a fresh round. She placed Noel’s drink down last, lingering just a second too long, her eyes locked on his.

“Enjoy,” she said, sweet and just shy of suggestive.

Noel offered her a warm smile. “Cheers, love.”

She grinned, tucking her hair behind one ear as she turned away, glancing back once before disappearing.

You took a long sip of your drink. This was stupid. He was stupid. You weren’t going to rise to it. But Emily had no such restraint.

“Noel,” she teased, drawing out the vowels. “Last night, now’s your chance,” she said, nodding toward the retreating waitress with a raise of her eyebrows.

Noel smirked, but covered it quickly with a sip of his drink, swirling the ice.

“Nah,” he said with a faux considerate shrug. “She’s a bit young for me, don’t you think?”

Your blood turned icy. Whether it was an intentional jab or just a casual deflection, you felt it in your gut. And you hated that it landed.

Emily just shrugged. “Some women are into that.”

Noel chuckled under his breath and looked like he was fighting hard not to send a smug smirk your way. You, on the other hand, were staring daggers at him. 

“Emily, please,” your dad said with a sigh, shaking his head. “Leave the man alone. He’s had it rough enough as it is.”

Then he turned to Noel, thoughtful now. “Though I will say, you do seem a hell of a lot more relaxed than when you first got here.”

Noel stiffened imperceptibly, but you caught the faint tension in his shoulders.

“S’pose so,” he said mildly, like it hadn't even occurred to him until now.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” your dad said, giving him a friendly clap on the back. “You’re welcome on any family trip from here on out, right girls?” He looked between you and Emily, clearly expecting enthusiastic agreement.

“Of course!” Emily said quickly, reaching across the table to pat Noel’s hand.

You were a beat too slow. The idea of Noel joining you on another trip was somewhere between absurd and thrilling. 

“Right,” you said, trying to sound casual. But your pulse had quickened. Maybe next time he’d have his own room. Maybe there wouldn’t be so many stolen moments. Maybe—

“At least sound a bit more excited,” Noel cut in, grinning now. It was the first thing he’d directed at you all evening. His voice was light, but the undercurrent was unmistakable. Like he knew exactly what kind of thoughts you were having.

Your cheeks flared. “No, of course,” you said quickly, forcing brightness into your tone. “Definitely.”

Your dad beamed. “Well, I’m just happy we could be of service.”

You nearly choked on your drink. The phrase felt too pointed, your mind spinning with all the ways it could be interpreted. Then there was that knee knocking at yours again, lighter this time. 

You coughed. “Food anyone?”

The rest of dinner went smoothly enough. Noel mercifully didn’t touch you again. But his gaze? That was another story. The weight of it kept you warmed despite the chill of the night.

It was maddening. And maddeningly effective.

By the time the plates were cleared and everyone had sipped the last of their drinks, your dad clapped his hands together, the way he always did when declaring something final.

“Right,” he said, rising from his chair. “We better head back. I haven’t even started packing.”

You and Emily murmured your agreement, chairs scraping back from the table, but Noel cut in casually, swirling the last of his drink.

“Go on without me,” he said. “Might catch up with a friend in town.”

Your stomach dipped before you could stop it.

Your dad just nodded, unfazed. “Alright, mate. Safe travels.”

You downed the rest of your drink, warm, too strong alcohol pooling at the bottom, and rose without looking in Noel’s direction. Your chair scraped a little too sharply across the floor. 

You trailed after Emily and your dad through the restaurant, the city’s skyline glowing against the dark windows, too pretty for how sour you suddenly felt. 

At the elevator, you offered a quiet excuse about needing the restroom and promised to meet them downstairs. 

Inside, you stared at your reflection, only to find a bitter woman looking back. You closed your eyes and drew in a slow breath. He didn’t owe you anything. But that didn’t stop you from feeling disappointed.

Once you’d gathered yourself, you exited, smoothing your dress as you walked out. Then your eyes landed on Noel, leaning casually against the wall opposite the bathroom, arms crossed.

You stopped in your tracks, eyes narrowing.

“I thought you were meeting a friend,” you said slowly.

“I am,” he said evenly.

You blinked. Looked around the hall, empty but for the two of you.

He grinned, just a bit. “You’re the friend.”

Your stomach flipped. It was unexpectedly…sweet of him. The two of you hadn’t spent any time alone outside of the house. It was embarrassing how quickly your mood shifted. 

You crossed your arms, mirroring his stance, rolling your eyes hard enough to sell some detachment. “You’re so stupid.”

“Come on then,” he said, pushing off the wall. 

You hesitated, glancing toward the elevator where your dad and Emily were surely waiting.

“My dad and Emily—”

“Tell ‘em you went out,” he said casually. “Met up with that guy who gave you that.” He reached out and tapped your shoulder lightly, right where the faint trace of the mark he’d left was beginning to fade.

You swallowed. “Right.” 

You fumbled for your phone and sent a quick text to Emily. Her response was almost immediate—some suggestive emojis. You smiled down at it despite yourself and slid your phone back into your bag.

When you looked up, Noel was still watching you, and the look on his face made it impossible to hide anything. He looked pleased. Too pleased.

“Where to?” 

Noel took you to a cocktail lounge that felt entirely out of your league. It was the kind of place you wouldn’t have dared enter alone—dim and decadent, every detail curated to feel intimate and exclusive. The chandeliers above were antique and low, casting a warm amber glow that shimmered off cut glass and whispered of obscene price tags.

You tried not to gawk as you followed him through the room, head slightly down, eyes flicking across velvet booths and flickering candlelight. Music floated low, barely loud enough to hear, but enough to blur voices and hush the air.

Most of the tables were filled. Small clusters of people leaned in close, talking low. Couples sat with knees brushing, fingers idly tracing stems of half-empty glasses. A flush of something warm spread through your chest. He’d brought you here. Here, where he didn’t seem worried about being seen with you. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

He led you to a curved booth tucked into the far corner. The cushions were deep purple and the candle on the table was casting patterns across the marble. Noel slid in first, settling squarely in the center like he belonged there, arm draping across the backrest.

You hovered at the edge for a second before he patted the seat next to him. He seemed utterly relaxed. You weren’t sure why you weren’t. Maybe it was because you felt out of place. 

You sat. Carefully. Not brushing too close, but close enough to feel the heat of his arm behind you, the ghost of his knee against yours.

The low light played off the sharp lines of his face, shadows catching in the hollows of his cheeks, tracing the bridge of his nose. 

His eyes, half-lidded and unreadable, cut to you. You held the gaze. He smirked slowly, leaned in just enough that his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“It was such an effort to keep my hands to myself earlier,” he murmured. “Don’t shy away from me now.”

The words dropped like hot coals straight to your spine, melting through you. Such fierce want struck you all at once. And the way his fingers ghosted from the booth’s edge to your shoulder, playing with the velvet of your dress, told he’d seen every last bit of the effect he had on you. 

You turned toward him slightly, your hand sliding to rest on his knee. Testing. He didn’t flinch. Just watched you, mouth curled into the faintest suggestion of amusement.

Your fingers drifted higher. “As long as I’m allowed the same courtesy,” you purred, letting your nails just barely graze the fabric.

His jaw flexed. A flicker passed behind his eyes. But you pulled your hand away before he could respond and reached instead for the wine list, pretending you hadn’t just watched his control waver.

He dropped his hand from your shoulder and leaned forward slightly, peering over your arm.

“That one,” he said, pointing to a wine you couldn’t pronounce and wouldn’t dare attempt.

You nodded faintly, and he flagged a waiter down. Moments later, your glasses were filled, the bottle left between you.

You raised your glass. He mirrored the gesture and you both drank, his eyes never leaving yours.

As you lowered your glass your lips parted to speak, but the words caught when his thumb reached out and brushed the corner of your mouth.

“Just wine,” he murmured. Then he lifted the same thumb to his lips and sucked it clean without ceremony.

Heat bloomed under your skin. The place he’d touched buzzed with warmth, almost embarrassingly sensitive. You blinked, trying to summon something to say, anything to match the casual boldness of the moment.

But he beat you to it.

“So tell me,” he said casually, “did you touch yourself after I left?”

You nearly choked on your drink. One sharp cough, and you turned your head toward him slowly. He didn’t look sheepish in the slightest, just smug. Like he was picturing you, desperate and spread open.

Your cheeks flushed, but you pushed down the embarrassment. He liked it. The idea of it. 

You met his gaze, steadying your voice. “You tell me. Thought you were supposed to know these things.”

He smirked. “Oh, I know.” He paused, eyes flicking down your body like he could see through the dress. “Just wanted to hear you admit it.”

Your stomach fluttered, a little thrill twisting low. You tried to keep your expression neutral, but your pulse was drumming hard in your ears.

“And what if I did?” you asked quietly, eyes still locked on his. “What would you do about it?”

He swallowed once, throat bobbing visibly. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You turned away, lifting your glass again to buy yourself a moment. But he laughed softly, seeing right through you.

“Not so bold now, are we?”

He was too pleased with himself. The edge in his voice sparked something petty in you.

“I did,” you said coolly, lying straight to his face. “Right after you left.”

His expression faltered for the briefest second, But then it was back, lips curling into that familiar shape.

“Liar,” he said easily, taking another sip. “You’re too strung out right now. One touch and you'd come apart.”

You stiffened and tipped the last of your wine into your mouth, the rich taste lost on your tongue, too busy choking down your pride.

An hour later, your head was pleasantly fuzzy and Noel’s hand had found a home on your thigh.

His thumb traced slow, absent circles over the velvet of your dress, the bare skin just above your knee. Every pass sent a flicker of sensation through you, making it hard to focus on what he was saying.

He was leaning in close now, the wine having softened the sharper edges of his demeanor. You were learning something new about him. He was an affectionate drunk, handsy in just the right way. It suited him far too well. Made him feel even more dangerous.

But you didn’t mind. Not in the slightest.

The wine in your blood made everything feel just a little more possible. You shifted slightly, resting your arm along the back of the booth. Your fingertips grazed the nape of his neck, finding the soft hair there and you gave in to temptation, gently twisting a few strands between your fingers.

His thumb paused mid-stroke. Then continued, slower this time. With a little more pressure. The atmosphere between you shifted again.

You tilted your head and watched him, taking in his features. The face you knew too well now. The slope of his nose, the creases that held years of smirks and squints. He looked good like this. Shadowed and still with his hand on you like it belonged there.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” you said quietly, voice almost swallowed by the music and low hum of the room.

He turned to you fully, holding your gaze. “Nothing stopping you, love.”

A small smile pulled at your lips. “Really?” you asked, letting the tease flicker at the edge of your voice. “You don’t think I’m too young for you?”

It was soft, a callback to earlier. But something real lurked underneath it. Some note of insecurity you hadn’t meant to let slip.

His lips curled, eyes glinting. “Don’t you think I’m too old for you?”

You didn’t answer right away. Your fingers threaded deeper into his hair, nails grazing lightly against his scalp. You watched the way his lashes lowered, the way his breath caught subtly at the contact. It made your own heart stutter in response.

How could you explain that it wasn’t despite the age, but because of it? That it was in his calm steadiness, the depth in his eyes, the streaks of silver in his hair, the way he carried himself. Just him. All of him.

So instead of trying to say all that, you just smiled. You shook your head once. Let your eyes answer for you.

His gaze dropped to your mouth.

His hand rose, brushing a knuckle along your cheek before cupping your jaw. The warmth of his palm sent a shiver down your spine, the moment stretching just long enough for your breath to catch.

Then he kissed you.

It was warm and slow, lips plush and confident. He tasted like red wine and heat. You exhaled softly into him, eyes fluttering shut as your body leaned in instinctively, pulled by gravity or want. You couldn’t tell which.

Your hand tightened in his hair, fingernails grazing his scalp just enough to draw a low sound from him. One that made your heart thud against your ribs. You felt the sound more than heard it, a shiver that passed through his chest and into yours.

It was dizzying, how much of him you wanted. How much of yourself you were willing to give. When he finally pulled back, he lingered close, his breath warm against your cheek.

“I think we need to get out of here,” he said, voice husky. “Now.”

You barely heard him over the rush in your ears, but you didn’t need him to repeat it. Your entire body responded before your mouth could.

When he turned to flag down the waiter, his neck shifted beneath the open collar of his shirt, revealing a sliver of skin you had to physically stop yourself from sinking your teeth into.

It was an effort to keep quiet as the two of you stumbled through the front door, limbs tangled, laughter threatening to spill from your lips. Noel’s hands found your waist, firm and steady even in his wine loosened state, steering you forward with a few half-mumbled words that were probably meant to be reassuring but came out slurred with amusement.

You bent to kick off your heels, wobbling slightly. Noel crouched beside you, slowly unlacing his boots, and when he looked up at you from beneath his lashes—eyes warm, mouth slightly parted—your own mouth went dry.

Without a word, you turned on your heel and slipped down the hall. You left the door open behind you and began stripping off your dress. 

Noel lingered in the doorway, one shoulder resting against the frame, eyes following every step.

“Bit presumptuous of you,” he said. “I was just coming to wish you a good night.”

Your lips twitched as you crossed the room. “Tell that to your dick,” you murmured, palming him through his trousers.

He stilled, breath hitching. His hands found your hips but you were already pulling him in. You walked him back until his shoulders bumped the door with a soft thud. One hand reached behind him to nudge it closed with a gentle click.

You didn’t immediately kiss him. Not yet. No you let him stand there as his breathing began to get more labored. 

Then you leaned in to press slow kisses along the base of his neck. The spot you’d been thinking about all night. You could feel him go still beneath you. Then a soft shiver. 

Encouraged, you brushed your lips lower, toward the hollow of his throat, catching the edge of his adam’s apple with your mouth. You parted your lips around it, sucking gently, feeling it vibrate beneath your lips as he let out a breathy laugh.

You wanted to leave a mark. Nearly did. But you made yourself pull back. Just for a second. 

Then your hands found the buttons of his shirt. You worked them open one by one, mouth brushing over each new patch of skin revealed. His chest was warm beneath your palms, rising and falling unevenly as you slid your hands under the fabric—one over his stomach, the other around his back, pulling him closer.

He exhaled sharply through his nose as your teeth scraped the tender skin below his ear. When you finally pulled back, your breath caught.

God, he was gorgeous like this. Hair mussed. Shirt hanging open. Eyes dark and half-lidded, lashes lowered but still trained on you. Leaned back like that, against the door, he looked…undone.

And all yours. At least for the night.

His gaze dropped to your chest, where your bra still clung to your body. His thumb slipped beneath one strap and just…rested there, drawing slow circles against your skin. Not pulling. Just touching. The stillness that settled between you was heavy with heat.

Then he leaned in.

The kiss wasn’t urgent. It built gradually, like the first one you’d shared in this same spot only days ago. But this time he wouldn’t run away. 

You melted into him, fingertips curling over his shoulders as you eased his shirt off. He shifted closer, deepening the kiss. Your hand trailed down his chest until your fingers brushed the waistband of his trousers. You scratched lightly along the skin just above, feeling his stomach tense beneath your touch.

Your fingers reached his belt, pausing to savor the anticipation. It wasn’t until he let out a quiet, broken sound against your lips that you moved again, the sound piercing straight through you. You nipped his bottom lip just enough to make him gasp softly, then slowly tugged the belt free.

Then your hand was slipping inside.

He was already halfway there, hot and heavy beneath your palm. You felt him twitch and it sent a jolt through you.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you,” you whispered teasingly, breath ghosting against his cheek.

His lips parted, ready with some cheeky reply, but whatever it was died the second your hand cupped him fully.

His head fell back against the door with a dull thud, his breath escaping him in a sharp exhale as your hand moved again, firmer this time.

You felt him swell in your palm, the heat of him almost burning, and something about the way his body reacted to you sent a flush of pride rolling through you. It felt like the entire day had been building to this. And now you finally had him.

He groaned low, hips rocking into your hand like he couldn’t help it. You felt the shudder ripple through him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, forehead pressing to yours, breath shaky and warm against your mouth. His eyes were nearly black now, pupils blown wide, the blue of them swallowed whole.

Just as your fingers slipped lower again, he flipped you around and pinned you against the door with a soft thud that managed to knock the air from your lungs.

One of his hands slid down the curve of your body to your bare thigh, fingers pressing into the soft skin before he lifted your leg and hooked it around his hip. The change made you gasp, the heat of him slotting perfectly against your core, even with the thin barrier of your underwear between you. 

He’d let you play. Let you tease. But now that side of him, the one that had driven you mad earlier, was back. 

He hiked your leg higher, grinding into you with purpose, and you choked out a sound as the pressure hit just right. Your hands flew to his shoulders, nails dragging lightly across his skin. 

He dropped his head to your neck, open mouth dragging hot, messy kisses along your pulse point. The slight scrape of stubble, the warmth of his tongue, the barely contained noise in the back of his throat—it all hit you at once.

Your head lolled back against the door, eyes fluttering shut. But he caught your chin and guided your mouth back to his, pulling you in for a kiss that was all heat and hunger. 

He groaned into your mouth, pinning you harder to the door. The wood dug into your spine but you didn’t care. Not when every point of contact between you burned too hot to feel anything else.

Your head was spinning. Partly from the alcohol, but mostly from him. You pulled back just enough to speak, breath catching. 

“Noel,” you whispered, voice trembling with the ache he’d stirred up inside you. “I don’t think I can take it anymore.”

You hadn’t meant to sound so desperate. But it was true. He’d been teasing you, torturing you, winding you up all day and you needed him to do something about it. Now.

His hands cradled your jaw before sliding down to your hips, guiding you backwards. You moved with him until the backs of your knees hit the mattress.

“I promised I’d give you what you want, didn’t I?” he hummed.

His shirt was long forgotten on the floor. Your bra slipped from your shoulders, skin prickling as cool air hit the newly exposed flesh. You watched the shift in his expression as his eyes raked over you. 

Then he was on you again, kissing you deeply. Your hands roamed greedily over his shoulders, his back, pulling him down with you until he hovered above, his mouth trailing hot kisses along your collarbone, your chest, lower. You gasped when his hand slipped beneath your panties, the first contact making your hips jolt.

His fingers were warm and rough and perfect. He dragged slow, devastating circles over your clit, teasing you with every press. You whimpered, hips lifting to chase more friction, but he didn’t rush.

He gathered your slick on his fingers, stroking through it before finally easing one finger inside. You clenched around him, a soft sound escaping your mouth before you could catch it.

“Christ, I’m gonna miss this,” he murmured against your skin.

The words landed hard in your chest. Whether he meant to say it or not, they cracked something open inside you. But you didn’t have time to dwell because then his middle finger joined the first, stretching you open. Your hands gripped his arms, needing something to hold onto. 

Then he curled his fingers.

You let out a sharp, fractured breath, your spine arching as relief pulsed through you. He trailed hot, open kisses down your sternum, over the swell of your chest. Then his mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking gently before his tongue flicked in rhythm with the movement of his fingers.

You cried out, hips jerking upward as sensation surged through you. He was drawing it out on purpose, keeping you balanced on a knife’s edge. You dug your nails into his back, hard enough to make him hiss and pull away. But he was grinning now, proud and knowing.

You could picture how you looked to him. Flushed, half-naked, hair wild, chest heaving beneath him. 

“If you don’t take those off right now…” you muttered, voice low and frayed, your eyes locked on the bulge in his trousers.

Noel gave you a wicked smirk. Desire burned in his eyes, but he still played coy. He leaned back just enough to make you think he was going to comply.

“These?” he asked, all mock innocence. His fly was already undone, belt hanging askew, but he only hooked a thumb in his waistband and didn’t move an inch.

Oh, he was evil.

You lunged, grabbing the band of his boxers just before he slipped out of reach. The elastic snapped back against his stomach with a sharp crack, and he laughed, low and delighted.

“Easy now,” he said, still grinning. “One might think you’re getting desperate.”

You glared, lips tight. “And if I say I am will it make you move any faster?”

He tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “No.”

You let out a dramatic groan and flopped back onto the mattress, the pillows rustling around you. Your patience was hanging by a thread.

Finally, you heard the soft creak of the mattress as he shifted his weight. You propped yourself up on your elbows just in time to see him slowly slide his trousers down.

He was down to his boxers now and for a moment all you could do was stare. It was ridiculous how good he looked. Your gaze dropped to the outline in his boxers, the clear strain of him, thick and heavy against the fabric, and you clenched, already feeling the phantom stretch.

Then he peeled those off too.

His cock sprang free, flushed and rigid, the sight of him stealing the breath from your lungs. You bit your lip hard, eyes locked on the way his hand curled around himself, stroking slowly. A tremor ran through him at the contact, his chest rising more sharply now. Your gaze finally dragged up to meet his and found him watching you just as intently. Roaming your body like he couldn’t choose where to settle first.

You slid your underwear off and tossed them aside. And just like that, you were both bare.

It struck you then—this was the first time you’d both been fully naked in front of each other. No clothes, no barriers. All the other times had been quick, frantic, with layers still clinging to your bodies. But this…this felt different.

Something shifted in your chest as you looked at him. Really looked at him. Just days ago, he’d stood in this room barely able to let himself kiss you. Now here he was, undone in front of you, completely exposed in more ways than one.

For a moment, neither of you moved. His hand fell away, and a flicker of hesitation crossed his face. You wondered if he was feeling it too. The weight of what this had become. The tenderness buried inside the lust.

You tugged lightly at his wrist and he came to you, settling onto the bed. His body hovered over yours for a moment and then he kissed you deep and slow, guiding you back down to the mattress.

His hand slid up your bare thigh, curling around it as he guided your leg over his hip again. This time, there was no barrier between you. The full heat of his skin against yours made your breath stutter in your throat. You could feel him hard against your hip and just like that the fierce heat was back with full force.

“I want you,” you whispered against his mouth. “All of you. Don’t hold back.”

He inhaled sharply through his nose.

“Do you mean that?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded, lips brushing his. “I do.”

Before you could register it, he flipped you onto your stomach, hands firmly guiding your hips up beneath him. 

The mattress dipped behind you as he settled into place. You braced yourself on your elbows, heart pounding in your ears. He lingered just behind you, not touching yet but close enough to make you ache. When he nudged your knees farther apart, a wave of vulnerability surged through you, tangled with anticipation.

His fingers slid between your legs and you flinched at the contact, pleasure shooting up your spine. His thumb dragged lazy circles over your clit making you shudder. 

You were about to start begging when you felt him brushing against your entrance. Your whole body tensed in response. 

One of his hands slid to your ass, fingers spreading you open as he lined himself up. He didn't rush. He let you feel every second of it. The tension was unbearable.

And then, finally, he pushed in.

You dropped your forehead to the mattress with a soundless cry. He filled you slowly, each inch claiming more space, more heat, more breath.

That familiar, intense stretch engulfed you, every nerve lit up. His groan rumbled through the quiet of the room and you felt the tremor of it in your own chest.

“Noel,” you gasped, voice broken and breathless.

He paused halfway, holding still so you could adjust. He wasn’t even fully in yet and you felt completely wrecked.

Then he moved deeper. He didn’t stop until he was all the way in, every inch of him buried inside.

The fullness, the heat, the pressure—it overwhelmed you. You felt your heartbeat pulsing between your legs, felt your body stretch and clench around him. After a few breaths, you pushed back, your hips seeking more, granting permission.

And he took it.

He pulled back slowly, almost all the way, before sliding in again. And again. And again. Each stroke built on the last, finding a rhythm. You met his thrusts eagerly, trying to draw him deeper, harder.

“More?” he panted, his voice choked.

You turned your head just enough to glimpse him. His hair was clinging to his forehead, jaw slack with pleasure, a flush rising along his neck and chest. You clenched around him, your body reacting to the sheer sight of him.

“I meant what I said,” you rasped. “Don’t hold back.”

Something shifted in his face. He pulled out suddenly with a hiss of breath and muttered something under his breath you couldn’t quite catch, then gripped your hips tighter and eased your knees even farther apart. 

Your chest dropped to the mattress, spine arching. He had you fully bent over for him, wide open, and then—

He slammed back into you. Hard

You cried out, a sound torn from somewhere deep. It was equal parts shock and raw, pulsing pleasure. 

His grip on your waist tightened and he began to fuck into you with unrelenting force, each thrust jolting you forward on the bed only for him to yank you back against him again. The wet, obscene rhythm of it filled the room. It was what you’d been aching for. What he’d been denying you all day.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat when he found that spot—deep and devastating. You writhed beneath him. 

He paused, adjusted his angle slightly, then drove into you again. Right there. Again and again. He hammered into it with cruel precision, grinding his pelvis into you. Your thighs trembled under the pressure, knees nearly giving out. Your hands clawed at the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto.

You met each thrust, hips snapping back to meet his, desperate to keep up with the pace he set. The sounds coming from your mouth weren’t words anymore. Just broken, desperate noises that filled the air between you.

Then he buried himself deep and leaned over your back, pressing into you with a slow, grinding motion that made you whimper. His chest was hot against your spine, his breath burning your ear.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?” he murmured, smug and wicked.

You gasped, lips trembling. “F-fuck you.”

He gave a low, amused hum. His hand slid into your hair, fingers curling at the base of your neck, and he pulled. Your head tipped back involuntarily, exposing your throat, your whole body bending to his control.

“If you insist,” he said, voice thick with heat.

And then he started again.

Using your hair as leverage, he pounded into you with a brutal rhythm that had you keening. The sharp tension at your scalp only heightened everything else. You’d never thought hair pulling would do anything for you, but now you understood. The heady mix of pleasure and pain had your nerves lit up like live wires. You were unraveling fast.

Choked moans tumbled from you in time with each thrust, body slick with sweat and heat. You could feel yourself tightening around him, pulsing at the edge of it. So close to breaking open you could hardly breathe.

And then he pulled out.

Your body convulsed with a helpless noise somewhere between a sob and a whine. No. Not again.

But his hand was already at your hip, nudging you to turn over. You moved without thought, breath ragged as your back sank into the pillow. You looked up at him, chest rising and falling in uneven waves.

“Surely you wouldn’t be so cruel as to do this to a lady twice in one day,” you managed, trying to keep your voice steady through your panting.

He met your gaze, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Just wanted to watch you fall apart.”

You didn’t need the rest of the sentence to understand it.

One last time.

Something splintered in your chest at the thought. The tension between your bodies didn’t lessen, but it shifted. Slowed.

Your expression softened as he leaned down, his body settling over yours, guiding your thigh up around his waist. His hand traced along the outside of your leg and then he pressed back inside you.

You exhaled a trembling breath.

He moved carefully, rolling his hips deep and slow. You could tell he wanted to take his time. And you let him. Secretly, you wanted that too. Needed it.

He leaned over you, capturing your mouth again in a slow, languid kiss. Your mouths parted in sync, his hips moving in time with the gentle drag of his lips. You curled your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until your bodies were nearly flush.

Your release built slowly and steadily, rising like a wave. It was deep and heavy and nothing like the frantic rush from before.

He was close too. You could feel it in the stutter of his hips, the tremor in his arms, the way his breathing grew shallow. His mouth dropped from yours, forehead pressing gently to yours as you stared at each other in the low light. His eyes were dark and heavy lidded, glassy with something he wouldn’t speak aloud.

It was too much. Too intimate.

It felt like making love.

And that thought alone undid you.

Your body clenched around him suddenly, your breath hitching as the tension finally broke. He followed, groaning deep in his chest as he drove in one last time and spilled inside you.

You trembled as your orgasm crested and rolled through you. It was a different kind of pleasure. It crept up slowly, radiating through your entire body. Not a sharp slam, but a powerful flood pulsing through your chest and limbs.

You shuddered, eyes fluttering shut as the last ripples passed through you, leaving you hollowed and heavy in the best way.

He stayed inside you for a moment longer, his breath hot against your cheek, before he gently eased out and collapsed beside you with a soft grunt, arm brushing yours.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. The silence was thick with everything you hadn’t said. Everything you couldn’t.

Your limbs felt too heavy to move, but when strength slowly returned you reached blindly for the first thing within reach, your soft sleep shirt, and wiped the mess between your legs. Without a word, you handed it over. He mumbled a half-slurred thank you before tossing the shirt across the room.

For a while, there was nothing. Just the sound of your breathing. The faint thump of your heart echoed in your ears. When you finally turned to look at him, he was asleep. His face was slack with exhaustion, the lines softened in the low light. 

You knew you shouldn’t let him fall asleep here, but your own eyelids grew heavy, dragged down by the weight of everything—the wine, your body, what you’d just done. Just a few minutes, you told yourself, already fading. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt.

Saturday (again)

You woke with a jolt, body tensing before your mind even caught up. Something was wrong. Or rather someone. The someone that was still in your bed, limbs tangled with yours. The sunlight was streaming in far too brightly for it to be anything but late morning.

You sat up quickly and instantly regretted it. A dull, unforgiving throb pounded behind your eyes as the hangover announced itself loud and clear. You winced and brought a hand to your temple, the stale taste of wine lingering in your mouth.

A sound came from the kitchen and your heart leapt into your through. Whoever was in there had a direct line of sight to the living room. And the couch that was supposed to be Noel’s bed. Which was still perfectly made and empty.

Fuck.

You hadn’t even had the presence of mind to fold it down last night to keep up appearances. You’d been too drunk, too caught up in the way he kissed you.

Your pulse spiked as you twisted toward him. He was lying on his stomach, dead asleep. Blissfully unaware. And still completely naked.

You weren’t faring much better.

Even in the haze of alarm, you caught yourself pausing, just for a second, to look at him. His hair was slightly mussed and he looked a bit scruffy. You felt a flash of something soft and warm and far too dangerous.

Another sound in the kitchen snapped you out of it.

You shook his shoulder. “Noel. Noel wake up.”

He groaned and stretched, his limbs sprawling lazily like a cat. You shook him again, more urgently this time.

“Noel get up.” 

His eyes cracked open, bleary and slow to focus. He smiled sleepily at you, eyes drifting down to your bare chest, entirely unbothered. The look he was giving you made your face heat despite everything.

“Morning,” he rasped, voice still thick from sleep.

You stared at him.“We fell asleep. You need to get out of here. Now.”

His eyebrows furrowed for a moment before looking around and finally realizing the situation. 

“Oh. Oh fuck.”

He threw the covers off, scrambling for his clothes in all directions. The same clothes he was in last night. Shit. This was just getting worse. 

You pulled on the nearest shirt, only to spot a cum stain dead center on the front. A soft curse slipped from your lips as you yanked it off and shoved it beneath your pillow.

“No, you should wear that one,” Noel said from across the room, grinning as he fumbled with his buttons.

You shot him a glare. “Not in the mood.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender, but his grin didn’t fade.

You ran a hand through your hand, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart. Trying to think. The moment you opened that door you’d have to start lying through your teeth. 

So much for a quiet last morning.

Noel was nearly dressed, shirt still wrinkled, belt halfway through the loops. You weren’t sure if the flush on your skin was from anxiety or the memory of his hands on you just hours ago.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself.

“We need a plan,” you said quickly, waving your hand like something would come to you. You started pacing, wracking your brain for plausible scenarios and alibis.

“Okay, okay—you need to go into the bathroom across the hall. Wait a minute. Then walk out like you’ve just woken up there. Greet whoever’s in the kitchen with a smile and absolutely no guilt whatsoever. You…you met someone last night. That’s it. You’re just now getting back. Which explains the clothes. And why you weren’t on the couch.”

You turned to him for input, for anything, but Noel just dragged a hand over his face, looking equal parts amused and exhausted.

Yeah,” he said slowly. “Sure. I can do that.”

He turned to leave, but you grabbed his arm before he could open the door. Your eyes scanned him quickly, checking for signs of you. No lipstick, no love bites, but his hair was a disaster. You reached up to smooth a wild piece sticking up at the crown of his head, but it stubbornly refused to lie flat.

His hand closed gently around your wrist and you stilled.

Without a word, he leaned in and kissed you, soft and steadying. It was the kind of kiss that didn’t belong to a moment like this, but to a different timeline. One where you weren’t sneaking around, making up stories, or hiding any trace of your night together.

You started to pull away, but his hand came up to cup your cheek.

“Breathe,” he whispered. “If you look like you're hiding something, they'll know you are.”

Your throat tightened. You held his gaze, trying to memorize it. The blue of his eyes, the faint crease between his brows, the steadiness of his presence. You weren’t going to be this close to him again. Not like this.

You blinked rapidly and stepped back, breaking the spell. It was already fraying at the edges anyway. You sucked in a deep breath and gave a tiny nod. 

Then he opened the door and slipped out. 

You pressed your ear to the wood, breath held. You heard the soft creak of the bathroom door, the click of it closing and then opening again, and then his voice, light and casual.

“Mornin’, Emily.”

You let out a tiny breath of relief. At least it wasn’t your dad. Although Emily was more nosy. 

“Well, well, well. Look who decided to join the land of the living,” she chirped. “Where were you last night, hmm? Just now getting in?”

“With a friend.”

To his credit, Noel’s voice was smooth. Neutral. You’d believe him if you didn’t know better.

Emily wasn’t having it. “Uh-huh. And you’re still wearing the same clothes. Was it that waitress? Oh my god—it was, wasn’t it?”

Either he didn’t reply or just made some noncommittal gesture because you didn’t hear anything else.

You bit your nail, debating whether you should go out there now or wait a bit. But if there was one thing you knew about Emily, it was that she’d keep prying until she was satisfied. 

You sucked in a breath and pushed the door open.

“Morning,” you mumbled, careful to keep your gaze anywhere but on Noel.

Emily turned, spatula in hand. “Morning,” she chirped, giving you a quick once over. “Oof, you look rough. Good night?”

Your pulse quickened, but you shot her a dry look. “Gee thanks Em.”

She tilted her head, feigning sympathy. “Oh no. Not good, was he?” she said, mock-coddling you like you were twelve and not trying to lie your way through a minefield.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from glancing over at Noel. You could feel his presence heavy in the room, but you didn’t dare look.

Emily crossed the kitchen in two strides and enveloped you in a hug, her arms wrapping tight around your shoulders. “My poor baby sister,” she cooed.

You stood there stiffly, letting her hold you until she started patting your hair like you were a dog.

“Alright get off me,” you said, wriggling out of her grip and pushing her back just enough to breathe.

She stepped away but not without narrowing her eyes a bit. Her gaze flicked over you again like she was searching for something before she turned back to the stove.

“You need a shower,” she said, her tone casual. Almost too casual. She slid a heaping plate of food toward you without another word. You gratefully took it and plopped down at the table. 

Behind you, Noel had moved into the living room, rustling through his bag. When he straightened, he had a clean set of clothes in his hands.

“You can use it after me,” he said casually, already heading toward the hall.

“Try not to use all the hot water,” you called after him, aiming for breezy. Normal.

He gave a little laugh before disappearing around the corner.

You looked back at your plate, appetite wavering. You could feel Emily watching you, even if she pretended not to be.

“Was yacht boy really that bad,” she asked, voice light, “or did you just get absolutely wrecked last night?”

“Bit of both,” you lied, shrugging. 

She hummed, unconvinced but not pressing. The two of you ate in silence for a few minutes.

“You sleep with him?”

You froze for a fraction of a second, your eyes flicking up to meet hers. Her voice had been too casual. Like she’d been working her way up to it.

“I…what?”

“Noel,” she said, enunciating his name. “Did you sleep with him?”

You nearly choked, the bite of food catching awkwardly in your throat. You coughed hard, head down, trying to buy yourself seconds to regroup.

When you finally managed to speak, your voice wobbled with forced amusement. “Why would you say that?” You even laughed a little, hoping it didn’t sound as false as it felt in your chest.

Emily didn’t smile. She didn’t even blink. “Dunno. Maybe because you smell like you’ve been bathing in his cologne.”

Shit. 

You set your utensils down calmly. “And you’re jumping straight to me sleeping with him because of that?”

“Answer the question.” Her voice dropped. Quiet, but deadly serious.

That tone. You hated that tone. It always cut the deepest. Made you feel like a kid again, caught in a lie that hadn’t even fully formed.

You hesitated, heart pounding. Mercifully you were saved by Noel himself, emerging from his shower. 

“All yours,” he said, oblivious to the sudden tension in the room. 

You stood abruptly, scraping your chair back as you rose. Your eyes flicked to Emily once more. You hadn’t said anything, not exactly, but you knew it didn’t matter. 

Not answering had said it all.

You stayed in the shower longer than you should’ve, trying to rinse away any lingering trace of him. Even though some part of you didn’t want to. You wanted to cling to every last bit of him. The scent on your skin. The feeling of his mouth on yours. 

But clinging to it wouldn’t make it real any longer than it already had been.

You pressed your forehead to the tiled wall, contemplating what to tell Emily. All you knew was that you were well and truly fucked. Every possible version of the truth, or something close to it, seemed destined to crumble under her stare. She’d find the cracks.

You only stepped out when your fingers had pruned. You moved slowly as you toweled off, dressed, and made your way back across the hall. But when you opened the door, you stopped cold. Emily was sitting perched on the edge of your bed, arms crossed. 

“Uh…hi Em can I help you?”

She didn’t smile. Not even a little bit. Just, “Your pillow smells like him. And your sheets reek of sex.”

Your stomach bottomed out. You went straight to deflection. It was all you had left.

“Why were you in here smelling my sheets you freak?”

She didn’t flinch. “And then there's this.” 

From beneath your pillow, she pulled out your shirt. The one you’d tried to hide, stain front and center. Obvious. Damning.

You snatched it from her hand. “That’s private,” you muttered, folding it like that might somehow undo the damage. “Get out.”

“You’re not even gonna deny it?”

“Why should I?” The words came out flat. “You’ve already made up your mind.” You should’ve been panicking, but you knew it was over. 

You expected her to yell. But she didn’t. She just stared at you, something hollow and quiet in her eyes.

“He’s Dad’s friend.”

You turned on her sharply. 

“He’s my friend too,” you snapped, hating how childish it sounded. Then you lowered your voice. “It’s not like I planned this.”

She shook her head, disbelief thick in her voice. “He came here for a break. He’s in a vulnerable place. He’s twice your age. Recently divorced. Famous. Are you even thinking clearly? Did you even consider what would happen if this got out? Noel Gallagher, post-divorce, shacking up with some twenty something on holiday? Do you have any idea how that would look?”

You opened your mouth and then closed it again. You hadn’t thought about that. Not really. You hadn’t been anywhere public, not where anyone could’ve seen you…except last night. 

Your stomach twisted.

“No one’s going to find out.”

Emily just stared, unreadable.

You stepped forward, trying to sound firmer than you felt. “Right, Emily? No one’s going to find out.”

She let out a slow breath. “I won’t tell Dad, if that’s what you’re asking.”

That small relief barely registered before she added, “He’d be even more disappointed than I am.”

That hurt. Your spine stiffened and you shot back without thinking.

“You’re such a hypocrite, you know that? You were pushing both of us this entire trip. To ‘live a little’. But now you’re mad because it’s not someone you approve of?”

She shook her head. “It’s more than that and you know it.”

A silence settled between you. “Whatever,” you muttered, turning away. “It’s over now anyway.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.” You didn’t mean for it to sound bitter, but it did.

“Just because you slept with him once doesn’t mean it won’t happen again.”

You didn’t answer. But that was answer enough.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, realization dawning. “It wasn’t just last night, was it?”

You hesitated. Then shook your head slowly.

 “No.”

Emily stared like she didn’t recognize you. Like the pieces didn’t add up to the sister she thought she knew. “Does yacht boy even exist?”

You gave the barest shake of your head.

She scoffed. “That bite mark…jesus. I’m so stupid. I thought you were being secretive because you were embarrassed. Not because you were lying.”

“Just…don’t say anything to him. Please,” you murmured. “To Noel.”

She looked at you sharply, then softened. Barely. “I won’t. But only for his sake. He doesn’t need more shit in his life right now.”

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat.

“Thanks,” you said, barely audible.

She stepped toward the door but then hesitated. For a second, it looked like she might say something else. But then she seemed to think better of it. Her hand tightened on the knob, and she shut the door with a bit more force than necessary.

You stood frozen in the quiet that followed. Then you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your hands. You refused to cry. Not over this. Not over him. Because if you did it would mean it wasn’t just some fleeting thing. It would mean it mattered.

You pressed your eyes shut and focused on breathing until the ache in your throat dulled to something more manageable.

At least for now.

You were stood in the living room, the weight of goodbye hanging heavy in the air. Noel’s flight was earlier than the rest of yours and now everyone was gathered to see him off. He was making light conversation with your dad, his hands shoved casually in his pockets, though you could see the tightness in his jaw. 

Emily had put on a smile, but you could tell it was forced. You didn’t bother hiding anything at all. 

When the car finally pulled up, Noel clapped your dad on the back, said something you didn’t catch. Then he turned to Emily, offering a brief hug. She returned it stiffly, murmuring a too bright goodbye.

Then his gaze slid to you and your stomach flipped helplessly. You hadn’t spoken much since the morning. As far as he knew, things were fine. As far as he knew, no one else knew.

His embrace lingered just a few seconds too long, just enough to make your heart twist. He smelled clean, familiar, like Noel, and you had to blink rapidly to keep yourself steady.

Over his shoulder, you met Emily’s gaze. Her expression was unreadable. Frustration, maybe. Maybe even something close to protectiveness

When he pulled back, he gave you a soft, private smile. You returned it, barely. Then he stepped outside, lifting one hand in a wave as he disappeared down the steps.

You stayed frozen until the sound of the car engine faded. Then you mumbled something about packing and slipped away before anyone could follow.

You’d packed in complete silence. It was a quiet sort of cruelty. Each piece of clothing now had a memory attached to it. Your bathing suits. Last night's dress. Your stupid stained t-shirt.

It was all bittersweet. You’d had him. If only for a few days, you had him. And yet you knew it was destined to be a temporary thing. You caught yourself staring at your bed and tried not to think about how soft his features had looked this morning.

You sat on the edge then slowly slid down until you were curled on your side. Emily had been right. The pillow really did smell like him. You let yourself breathe it in. Just once. Eyes shut tight.

You must’ve dozed off, because the next thing you heard was a gentle knock at your door.

“Cars gonna be here in thirty,” your dad said, poking his head in.

You sat up, scrubbing your hands over your face. “Okay.”

He lingered. “You alright, darling?”

You glanced toward the door, heart tight. “Yeah,” you said, forcing a faint smile into your voice. “Just tired. And I don’t wanna leave.”

He smiled warmly. “Me either.”

Thirty minutes later you were in the car, the house shrinking in the rear window. You watched it until it disappeared completely.

You tried to leave everything behind with it—the touches, the kisses, the rush. But your body still remembered. And so did your heart, stubborn as ever. You could still feel the weight of his hands on your skin. You could still feel him in your bones. In the parts of you he’d touched that had nothing to do with skin.

You leaned your forehead against the window, letting the cool glass ground you. A plane passed overhead and you wondered if he was on it. Already on his way back to a different life. One that didn’t include you. If he was thinking about you at all or just moving on the way you were supposed to.

You knew it couldn’t last. You knew it the second it began. And now it was over. Just a handful of days. You hadn’t meant to feel this much. But it happened anyway. Now all that was left was the ache in your chest, quiet and lingering. Like a bruise you couldn’t stop pressing. Not forever. But for a while.

It was a strange mix of sadness, gratitude, and something a little like grief. But no regrets. Not a single one. Not the sneaking around. Not the risk. Not even the way you let yourself want more knowing you wouldn’t get it. You’d do it all again. Just to have those moments. Even if they didn’t last.

You exhaled slowly and closed your eyes. You still wanted more. And maybe he did too. Maybe not. That’s what killed you the most. Not knowing. Not being able to ask.

Part of you hoped. Clung to the looks you’d shared. You wouldn’t reach out when you got back. You couldn’t. That had to be his decision.

And deep down, you knew it was wishful thinking. To believe he’d think of you again. Not like that. Given the circumstances. Given everything. 

But that would never stop you from leaving a little space carved out for him. Just in case. 

Even if it hurt. 

[reverie-starlight]

“ugh, my head hurts,” you whine. you walk into the living room and settle beside atsumu on the couch. as soon as you rest your head on his shoulder and bend knees over his thighs, he’s wrapping an arm around you.

“rough night?” he jokes. he knows perfectly well that you were with him fighting over mario kart and clue last night, and that you’re definitely not suffering a hangover right now, despite what your current state may suggest.

“ha ha,” you reply but it’s quickly followed up with a groan. you press your fingers to your temples and hide your face in his neck.

despite his earlier teasing, he brings a hand up to gently massage the back of your head. you can almost feel the concerned frown forming on his face, and just as he opens his mouth, you answer his question before it has the chance to form. “I’m okay, baby. I guess I didn’t get enough sleep after we waged war on each other.”

you think back to last night’s events. you had both pulled your best tricks within the game and things got pretty intense during your third go at moo moo meadows (atsumu's favourite track- one of the only one he claims you're evenly matched in because you're at the mercy of the cows). of course you beat him, hitting him with a strategically thrown green shell just before he crossed the finish line, breaking the tie 2-1 in your favour. he was quick to select wild woods as the next course, but you beat him in that one as well and had to switch over to animal crossing after that to cool off.

he sighs in relief and presses some kisses to your forehead. “need me to get ya anything?”

you wrap your arms around his neck, face still hidden against him, and shake your head as minimally as possible. “just cuddle me, please?”

he smiles and squeezes you tighter against him. “easiest thing you’ve ever asked me to do,”

you peek up at him. "how about you? you feeling okay?"

he looks confused for a moment. "hm? what do-"

"is your ego still bruised from that green shell?" you interrupt with a small smile against his skin.

he narrows his eyes playfully. "careful," he warns, hands slithering down to your sides and stalling there menacingly. "you're not really in a position to be a brat right now."

you giggle and guide his hands away from your waist. "no, I'm sorry, I'll stop. I won't even make the joke I was saving about being at the mercy of a cow again so soon," you plead with him.

he hums a bit. "you're so lucky you're not feelin' well right now. but just wait, I'll get ya back for that comment, baby. won't even see it coming."

you sigh contently as he maneuvers you against him more comfortably and plays with your hair. "sure, 'tsum. I'm so scared," your voice has a dreamy lilt to it, so he lets it slide and continues caressing you.

truly the easiest thing you've ever asked him to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this isn't the atsumu fic I was talking abt btw, that's still coming on monday. it's just a draft I polished up a bit bc I didn't know where to go with it. it probably wasn't going to turn into anything tbh... I'm just posting it today to try to stop myself from posting the other fic before then lol

[kireilien]

more maki more maki!! 🤤 btw i love the way you write!!!!!

ANONS. YOU ARE PLAYING A DANGEROUS GAME ASKING FOR THIS MUCH MAKI. you guys sound like my alt accounts atp… this might need to turn into a maki cock page and a maki cock page only!!! i’m not mad abt it!!! THIS IS ALSO SUPER FUCKING LONG I AM FEEDING MAKI COCK CENTRAL

tw/cw. nsfw content, cursing; dom!maki, sub!reader, fem!reader, idol!reader also under yx (groups like illit/le sserafim wouldn’t make sense in my head), “bsf!reader,” reader is kinda tsundere-ish, race neutral reader, established relationship, voyeurism (ok guys ik but it’s not actually– you’ll get it), piv, kissing, creampie, maki smug as shit, this is an au where idols of diff genders can freely interact LOL 

something abt a risky idol live makes me so SJHDFGSYFCG

you’ve been on live for around 20 minutes now in a spare vocal room, saying hi to fans, listening to music, talking about group episodes; the norm for an idol live. it wasn’t until someone knocked at the door, and guess who it is! little shit central i mean your boyfriend i mean your best friend!!!

from a fan’s pov, you’ve known maki for a year, always bickering on weverse, being sassy with each other at events, and other typical best friend things. but! in reality you’ve been dating maki rather than being just his best friend. but the fans don’t know about that do they?

opening the door you snark, “oh guys look! it’s my least favorite person!” maki laughs at your words, “it’s [your fandom name]’s favorite boy, actually!” you roll your eyes, “you are not their favorite boy,” you snicker as you look at some of the comments. 

commenter: OMG HI MAKI  commenter: he is our favorite boy  commenter: y/n ur being mean stop  commenter: MAKIYN TIME  commenter: THE BESTIES!!!!!

“guys i’m not being mean, he’s just an employed unemployed loser,” you joke as maki finds a seat to sit down. “what are you even doing here?” you scoff at him, “can i not see my best friend?” he smiles at you endearingly. “no you can not,” you retorted. 

commenter: HOW HAVE U BEEN MAKI  commenter: we’ve missed u  commenter: play some songs from &team!!! commenter: LOVE FROM USA RAHHHH commenter: i like ur hoodie maki  commenter: what’s your tmi today maki? commenter: MAKI CAN U SAY HI IN GERMAN 

you stare at the comments before pointing at one, “maki, they wanna know your tmi, what’s your tmi today?” you smile a bit as you turn your chair to maki, “hmm… oh! i actually called y/n right when i woke up!” 

your smile nearly drops. 

he called you because he had morning wood. fucking morning wood. that’s his fucking tmi? half-assing his answer of morning phone sex? you stare at him, “oh yeah! i forgot about that, he was really… stiff this morning.”

two can play that game! 

commenter: ?????? commenter: stiff????? commenter: wtf does that mean  commenter: oh like he needed to stretch?? commenter: y/n what  commenter: huh????? 

“guys, no like, yeah, yeah, yeah! i was stiff this morning because i practiced like super hard last night, so i called them for some stretching exercises!” maki immediately tries to do damage control, pointing at the comment and looking back at you, just to secretly put his hand on your thigh. 

what does he think he’s doing? 

you stare at him, silently trying to say why the fuck do you have your hand on my thigh?! but to no avail, maki glances at you before looking back at the comments, his hand not leaving your thigh. as the two of you casually kept on chatting, you can still feel his hand drifting up higher and higher, right where your clothed pussy is at. you lean in closer to the camera, not wanting any fans to see his hand. but then a soft swipe ghosts over your pussy. 

oh he’s fucking insane.

you immediately curl your lips inward, not wanting to accidentally moan in front of the camera. maki though, wanted to play along, “y/n, are you okay?” he stifles a laugh, not wanting to give up this act of his. “yeah, i think i have a little stomach ache right now,” you say through gritted teeth.

maki takes this initiative to really feel you up, by pushing your chair out of frame, pretending to rub your stomach. when in reality, his thumb keeps on hitting that clit of yours. but the fans have no idea. 

commenter: what???  commenter: y/n are you okay :((((  commenter: a sudden stomach ache naurrr commenter: wait what  commenter: noooo y/n rest up!!!! 

all the fans are stupid for not catching on. there’s some obvious tension in between you too. but you guys banter like siblings! there’s no way anything could happen! 

maki swiftly takes his free hand and quickly says bye to the fans, saying you have a stomach ache and he can take care of you! but by taking care of you, he wants to just fuck you. literally that’s it. 

after the live ended you spat out, “you’re so fucking dirty.” maki laughs, “then why the fuck are you drenched?” he asks after discarding your pants and panties. all he’s left with is your sopping wet pussy.

he’s beaming– a little too proud he pulled this bullshit. he unbuckles his pants, giving you that view of his hard ass cock. he’s been fiening for this. maki doesn’t even wait, he slides himself perfectly in you, throwing his head back of how he’s been wanting this pussy since this morning. 

“god– you’re clenching on me– been waiting since this morning too?” he smirks as he drills his hips into yours, using the chair for support of his arms, allowing your arms to grab onto his. “so what i have– this wasn’t the time– fuck– maki!” you attempted to spit back before suddenly feeling the head of his cock go even deeper into your cunt. you couldn't help but think of the fact how he wanted your pussy that bad that he had to crash your live. but here you are, his cock is pushing deeper and deeper into you by the second. 

maki’s hips were stuttering soon after, meaning he was gonna cum soon. your orgasm was also approaching, indicated by the fact you grabbed maki’s neck to lean into a hot kiss, muffling any of your moans. in a few deep but slow strokes, maki cums in you, feeling how warm his ropes of cum were as he could feel the gush of yours. the both of you sigh from your orgasms, reeling in the situation. 

“all this– because– what– you were horny like 14 hours ago?” you pant out, trying to catch your breath. 

“y–eah?” maki smiles as he goes in to kiss your lips. 

“you’re fucking stupid.” 

idk how i can pump out this much– oh yeah it’s abt maki!!!! 

req for the phone sex in this love letter!

back 2 maki catalog

[clearpurpleskies]

On Elizabeth and Barbossa:

Something I really like about PotC is Barbossa and Elizabeth's relationship, because you can tell from their very first interaction in CotBP that he was both impressed and annoyed when she pulls the necklace trick—I'm convinced he would have sent her back to shore if she didnt say her last name was Turner. (Maybe).

He gave her that gorgeous red dress, like I know the implications was that she's supposed to be sexualized (cue to that peeping tom scene with Pintel and Ragetti), but in the movie itself... I never really got any vibes of Barbossa actually waiting-wanting Elizabeth. I feel like he just likes to mess up with her because she's feisty and has a temper.

He orchestrated the whole curse reveal in such a dramatic way just to get her to panic, he did it on purpose, im sure he set the entire crew up to it. Like a stage.

My HC is that Barbossa just loves to mess up with Elizabeth, because he knows she's stubborn and smart af and the only way to get her to do something is to push her into doing it.

Like for example this gesture here in AWE:

I don't think is seductive or romantic or anything, I think he's doing it to recall this one:

Legit he's making an inside joke. Its the same hand even.

This is when they are all panicking because of the waterfall at the edge of the world and they want to turn the junk around, and shes like you've doomed us all. So Barbossa does this to like remind her it was her who brought them here in the first place, so why is she afraid now? Pushing her to go with it until the end, like she said she would.

Sure, she's the female lead and everything she does would be a bit (a lot) sexualized specially since its the 2000s.

But the Barbossa-Elizabeth dynamic actually gives me vibes of being a "transference" kinda situation, as in, he was trying to live through her. The fine clothes, the fancy food, the wine, and finally the thing that gives it away for me is when he offers her the apple.

He wants to watch her eat the apple because HE wants the apple, not because he wants her.

It just give me a bit of a problematic!child x begrudging!paternal figure dynamic, maybe its just me idk.

I saw a lot of parallel between them done on purpose in AWE, as in Elizabeth copying or doing the same gestures as Barbossa throughout the movie. This is usually done intentionally in storyboarding, btw.

Not just for the comedic effect, mind you... but also to highlight morals or values alignment in the characters.

There's another thing and is that Elizabeth tends to repeat what Barbossa says.

At the begining of CotBP when she gets kidnapped, he tells her that basically shes not a pirate so she doesnt count so hes not respecting the code, and that the code are guideliness anyway (just imagine what Teague would have to say about that).

And this is the argument Elizabeth uses when she's trying to convince Gibbs, Anamaria, and Marty to go back with her to help Will and Jack.

And by the end of AWE, she's the one that delivers the BEST SPEECH ever, and she does it using Barbossa's own words. The words he used at the gathering of the court.

She doesn't do this with anyone else. Not even Jack.

She respects piracy as much as he does. She does everything to be the master of her own fate as much as he wants to be his own master.

And I think the most important beat and the one that lets us come full circle in their dynamic is when they finally ay goodbye at the end of AWE and he calls her "Mrs. Turner", and he gives her that PROUD little smile.

Anyways... I don't know why I wanted to talk about this. I just needed to get it off my syste. Lol It could be my daddy issues, but these two just got me thinking today, and I would've love to see them interact more, and WITH Carina, in the 5th movie.

[lelkayangel]

Huntrix headcanons (+ a bit of polytrix)

Yeah, another post with kpdh headcanons. This movie inspired me too much lol (I will write even more)

English is not my native language btw, so I'm open to (kind) critique of my writing and grammar.

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་

Zoey is half Japanese.

Rumi is asexual

Rumi is so bad at understanding her own emotions she were the last to realize she is in love with Zoey and Mira (they both knew it already)

Zoey has a low self esteem that depends on other people's opinions. If she hears one bad word about her lyrics she will become nervous instantly and will check her whole text for imperfections. Sometimes it even grows into panic attacks.

Zoey loves to watch documentaries about different animals and often infodumps Mira after (and now Rumi too).

Rumi has literally no experience in dating. Zoey had a relationship before but it wasn't really serious (She and her ex met in one of her favourite videogames).

Mira's parents tried to marry her to a rich son of some big ass company and it was the last straw for her and she ran away from home.

Rumi is biromantic with preference towards men (before she realized she is in love with Zoey and Mira she thought she is heterosexual)

Once Zoey texted in bubble that she's getting a pet. Fans thought it would be a cute little dog, but it turned out to be a domestic goose.

After events of the movie Rumi will feel better but will start having passive suicide thoughts and sometimes joke about it. Mira and Zoey won't laugh and will take her to a therapist.

Rumi isn't used to getting love at all, and after getting into a relationship with Mira and Zoey she will be hugged and kissed 24/7 and that's how they will find out that Rumi’s marks on her face glow like a blush when she feels shy.

Mira's face features and body aren't close to Korea’s beauty standards which made her feel ashamed of herself, especially at Huntrix's debut time. Now she is much more confident but other girls still love to compliment her looks and kiss her face and broad shoulders.

Zoey started writing songs about her love for Mira and Rumi. Her usually harsh lyrics became soft and tender. These songs will never be released but they stay in Huntrix's hearts forever. Girls cried when Zoey sang to them one of these songs for the first time.

Rumi now often found Mira and Zoey staring at her marks with admiration.

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖

Thank you for reading, dear, have a good day <3

My masterliist, my preferences in writing

[delulujuls]

head down and focus | mv33, gp

hi, long time no see since adult life is trying to crush me completely BUT i am not giving it up

here comes something intense, well, maybe this part is not as intense as the second one (because yes, there will be two parts of it because this bitch long as hell i got a bit carried away lol)

anyway, i guess this one is just for the real connoisseurs and if you dont like the idea of what i cooked here, just do it for yourself baby and scroll away

anyway, bon appetit! (and @subaru-copilot made those gifs btw)

summary: max and reader are secretly dating but it's nothing what an sharp eye of a race engineer couldn't spot. so if GP already got that something is going on between them, then why not invite him to their bedroom?

pairing: max verstappen x fem!red bull driver x gianpiero lambiase

warnings: s3x scene (in here just max x reader) nothing super explained though, some swearing i don't know how many times i used 'fuck' in here im sorry, mentions of voyeurism, is GP calling Max a good boy should have a trigger warning? idk

It started as a joke.

An innocent one, thrown out after one of the races to ease the tension.

After a while, the topic resurfaced—again as a joke—but this time it didn’t leave either Max or Y/N’s minds as quickly as it had before.

When the subject came up a third time, it was clear it had stopped being a joke. Even though they both wanted it to remain one.

"Do you think he leads like that during sex too?"

The question came at the least expected moment. Max was in the middle of putting on a condom, and Y/N, cheeks flushed, lay beneath him.

Max furrowed his brow at her question.

"Who?"

"GP," she answered, lifting her gaze to his face. Max’s cheeks were also tinged with red, his lips slightly swollen from kissing, and his tousled hair fell over his forehead.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Max shook his head in disbelief, adjusting the condom and moving a little closer to her. He wetted his fingers and ran them along her already soaked pussy. It wasn’t necessary—she was wet enough to take him comfortably.

"Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it too," she said, not breaking eye contact, partly to gauge his reaction. Max slid into her without a word, slightly more forcefully than he had intended, irritated by the remark. She hissed, sucking in air through her teeth and gripping the sheets with clenched fists. Max clearly hadn’t been as gentle as he’d planned, so he quickly braced himself on either side of her head and leaned down to kiss her. He moved his hips slowly, drawing out long, soft moans from her.

"Maybe I have thought about it," he said after a moment, towering over her and slowly letting her adjust to his size. It had been quite a while since they last had sex, and Max didn’t want to spend this moment thinking about his race engineer. "Doesn’t change the fact this isn’t the right time for that conversation."

"I’m just curious," she replied, pulling him closer and kissing his collarbone. Judging by Max’s reaction, she figured maybe she had gone too far, even if she had meant it jokingly. She didn’t want to piss him off.

"Hey, it’s okay," he assured her when he noticed her slightly sheepish expression. He touched her cheek and lightly rubbed it with his thumb. "And GP definitely seems like the type who leads during sex. No doubt."

She smiled, glad her stupid comment hadn’t ruined the mood. She grabbed Max’s cheeks and pulled him into a long, wonderfully messy kiss.

Their sex was so good it occupied their thoughts for days. But a few days passed, and duty called—meaning it was time to focus on racing and pretend they weren’t sleeping with a teammate.

Max and Y/N exchanged one last, silent smile—though both would have rather shared a kiss. But surrounded by mechanics and paddock staff, that smile had to do, as they each walked off to their respective parts of the garage.

Max returned every greeting with a smile. Nothing unusual there—both he and Y/N were well-liked. Contrary to the rumors and accusations, Red Bull had become a very tight-knit organization. Or, as the PR people said, they were simply one big family. Disfunctional sometimes, but still a family.

"Hey there, champ," Gianpiero smiled up at Max from behind his tablet. "Earlier than usual."

"Do you think he leads like that during sex too?"

The thought hit Max so hard, it felt like walking full speed into a glass door.

It took him about one and a half seconds longer than usual to pull himself together. He hoped GP hadn’t noticed.

"Morning’s quieter than usual," he replied, trying to maintain his composure. "Media folks must be stuck in traffic, so I figured I’d do something useful."

The man chuckled, swiping across his tablet screen, preparing to go over the latest updates with Max. Verstappen, if he could, would’ve high-fived himself. "Everything’s fine," he told himself as he set down his backpack and sat beside him. "Just act like nothing’s happening."

And really, if something is weird, pretending it’s normal often makes it feel that way.

Max listened intently as Gianpiero explained small changes made to the car and how they would suit the track’s specifications. Max was usually a focused student, listened a lot, and gave feedback. GP always made sure to be as clear and understandable as possible, enjoying it when things clicked.

This time, GP had again prepared everything excellently—but Max seemed to be in his own world, not quite the focused student today. Walking into the garage, he’d felt sharp and ready to prepare for the race. But seeing Gianpiero—and more than that, hearing his voice—completely knocked him out of rhythm.

How absurd was it to sexualize your race engineer? And more absurdly—why couldn’t he stop?

"Do you think he leads like that during sex too?"

"You’re not focused, Max," Gianpiero’s voice pulled him out of his daze. He had, indeed, drifted off in the most pathetic way.

"Sorry," Max quickly shook his head and leaned in closer. The scent of GP’s cologne enveloped him even more. Fuck, did he always smell like that? "I’m listening, I’m listening."

"Head down and focus," his voice wasn’t angry—wasn’t even annoyed. GP knew emotions had no place in engineering. He simply clicked back a few slides and resumed the topic he suspected Max had mentally wandered away from.

It wasn’t much easier now.

"Head down and focus," echoed in Max’s head like a tennis ball in an empty court. He gnawed the inside of his lip, eyes fixed on the notes, and whenever GP looked his way, Max nodded to signal understanding.

"Head down and focus"— fuck’s sake. Max grabbed his water bottle and took a sip, his mouth suddenly dry. "Head down and focus," he imagined Gianpiero standing over him while he lay between Y/N’s thighs, trying to get her off with his mouth.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

"We wanna get this nicely done, aren’t we? So head down and focus, Max. You can do this."

Max took another sip, squeezing the bottle a little too hard, making it crackle.

GP just shot him a mildly amused look, and Max quickly set the bottle aside. What he really needed to cool off wasn’t water—it was a bath in a tub of ice.

The situation didn’t improve when Y/N strolled into his side of the garage, pretending to casually check on things.

"Hi, GP," she smiled at him, leaning against the station where he and Max were sitting. "New haircut?"

Gianpiero laughed at her words, taking the jab in good humor. His relationships with both Max and Y/N were strong, relaxed, and full of such teasing.

"I really appreciate you noticing," he said theatrically, pressing a hand to his chest, making her giggle. She squeezed his arm warmly, wished them a productive day, and returned to her tasks.

"That girl," GP shook his head with a smile, swiping his stylus across the tablet.

"Such a minx, isn’t she?" Max watched her go.

"In that respect, you two are a perfect match," Gianpiero admitted, looking up from his tablet. When he did, Max quickly averted his gaze. But GP was much more observant than people gave him credit for—certainly more than Max or Y/N realized. Then again, he was a race engineer—being observant was practically his job description.

Max and Y/N did a fantastic job maintaining professionalism—so good, in fact, that probably no one, aside from Gianpiero, suspected anything was going on between them.

No one likely suspected either that Max wasn’t sleeping in his own hotel room on race weekends—like tonight, for instance.

"You seriously thought about that?" Max asked out of nowhere while they lay on the girl's bed. She was reviewing race notes; he was scrolling through social media. At some point, though, his finger stopped, and his thoughts—off the leash—wandered straight to Gianpiero.

"Thought about what?" she replied, not looking up from her pages.

"Please don’t make me say it," Max locked his phone and set it aside, leaning back. The girl looked at him, and he looked back, trying to make it obvious what he meant.

"I may be a great driver, but I still can’t read minds," she said, and Max sighed in resignation.

"I mean GP."

"My God, Max Emilian," she cut him off before he could continue, covering her face with her hands. "You’re seriously making this weird."

"I wasn’t the one who brought it up at the worst possible moment," he defended himself. "I’ve never thought about Gianpiero during sex!"

"Never?" she raised a brow, giving him a yeah-right look. "Seriously, never?"

"Give me one rational reason why I would," he said, looking right at her. Sure, GP had never crossed his mind during sex—Max had been too focused on more relevant things. But now? Now, if he went down on her, he couldn’t help but imagine GP standing over him, saying in that familiar radio voice, "Head down and focus."

"I mean, he’s attractive," she admitted. "You can’t tell me he’s not."

Max bit the inside of his cheek. He’d be lying if he said otherwise. GP looked good, always smelled good, and somehow managed to look great even after sleeping two hours the whole race weekend. Plus, he was insanely smart—which was sexy as hell on its own. And, fuck’s sake, that voice.

"He’s married," Max said, looking back at her. She just shrugged.

"So what? I’m just saying he’s handsome. And I'm saying that respectfully."

It was absurd. So absurd that Max started laughing under his breath. He rubbed his face with his hands and sighed. "I won’t be able to do the next race with him. I already couldn’t focus today on what he was saying to me."

"I'm impressed you managed as long as you did," she laughed, putting her notes aside. She knew there was no point continuing to study.

Of course, it’s not like they hadn’t had a conversation about who on the team they wouldn’t sleep with. Hell, who in the entire paddock they wouldn’t sleep with. Anyone who claimed they’d never thought about those things was lying. You spend such an obscene amount of time around these people that those thoughts pop into your head whether you want them to or not. Like, come on now.

They spent the evening having such ridiculous conversations that if someone had put a glass to the door and eavesdropped, they would’ve assumed a pair of teenagers were inside, just discovering what sex was. That level of ridiculous. So much so that Max, head down and cap pulled lower over his eyes than usual, walked into the garage the next morning.

Of course, the center of attention was none other than Gianpiero. And both of them, slightly ashamed—because GP definitely didn’t deserve to be sexualized like that—came to the conclusion that Max could fuck Y/N to the sound of his instructions.

The night passed, and the next day there was no escaping Gianpiero; they had a full day of work ahead of them.

"Hey," the man turned around after hearing the commotion behind him, caused by none other than Max entering the garage. The younger man smiled at him briefly and patted him on the back, but couldn’t get a single word out. Which was, of course, more than embarrassing.

"Everything okay, Max?" GP asked, after a moment of casting sidelong glances in the driver’s direction, now fully convinced something was wrong. "First race nerves? Isn’t it a little late for that, champ?"

He said it playfully, trying to lighten the mood. Max was already sitting in the car, ready to begin the practice session, staring off into space. When he heard the engineer’s voice, he sighed and shook his head. You’re acting like an idiot, Max, he thought. Get it together. Don’t make it weird.

"Everything’s fine," he nodded and looked down, adjusting the straps on his gloves. "I just want to get started already."

"Impatient boy," Max could hear the smile in his voice as the words came through his headset. Fuck you, GP. Fuck you so fucking much.

Max looked up toward Red Bull’s pit wall and saw GP standing with a slight smile, leaning back against the data monitors, swiping across his tablet—having no idea what he was capable of doing just by existing, completely unaware of it.

Soon after, the countdown ended and the cars slowly began to leave their garages, eager to get in some solid laps.

"Any feedback on the car, Max?" GP asked, as the Dutchman hadn’t said a word over halfway into the session. "Let me know how we managed the balance problems, please."

"Everything’s fine," Max said curtly, tightening his grip on the steering wheel as he took a corner more aggressively than planned. "Fuck, I mean—it's, uh, it’s fine."

"Copy that."

By the time the first practice session ended, Max felt like he’d driven the race of his life. He climbed out of the car, pulled off his helmet and balaclava, and wiped his face with his hands. But before he could take out his earpieces, Gianpiero’s voice came through again.

"Lunch together?" The Dutchman was just about to remove the earpiece but looked over and saw the man still sitting at the pit wall, now watching him intently. Fuck. "I think we need to talk, right?"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Max somehow managed to maintain eye contact and just nodded. The man smiled and turned back to his workstation, resuming his duties for a moment. Max, in that instant, wished GP would just forget the lunch and focus on work—his stomach twisted at the mere thought of the conversation ahead.

The Dutchman, of course, didn’t consider that Gianpiero, not just his race engineer but also a friend, might actually be worried about the strange behavior Max had been displaying for several days. Max felt like every filthy thought that had passed through his head in the last 48 hours was written all over his face, and GP—of course—would have no trouble reading it.

Shortly after the first practice session ended, Max headed to the canteen. He dragged his feet endlessly, but finally pulled himself together after an internal motivational speech—basically just swearing at himself to stop being a pussy—and appeared in the small Red Bull cafeteria. Gianpiero was sitting at a table in the corner by the window, eating lunch and scrolling through his phone.

"Sorry I’m late," he mumbled, placing the pasta and chicken salad on the table, pulling out a chair, and sitting down.

"No worries," GP smiled at him warmly. Fucking hell. This man was born without the part of the brain responsible for anger and negative emotions.

At first, they sat in silence for a while. Then, word by word, a loose conversation developed about the previous session, the car, and the collected data. Max managed to relax—he finally reminded himself that hey, it’s just GP. The person who knows everything about him—well, almost everything—who knows him like the back of his hand and who always wants the best for him. Everything is always fine when GP has his eye on it. Everything is just fine.

"Well, I wouldn't want this to be uncomfortable for you, so I’ll skip the lame small talk and just say I know," Gianpiero spoke up after a moment of silence, when his plate was empty and his coffee was nearly finished. He raised his eyes and looked at Max’s face, which didn’t flinch even a millimeter. He felt like his heart stopped for two full seconds.

Fuck.

"Know what, exactly?" Max twisted open a bottle of water and leaned back in his chair, taking a few sips. Gianpiero could tell he was tense. His body language tried to say otherwise, but there was no escaping it.

The man was about to speak when Y/N and Hannah walked into the buffet, deeply engaged in what he assumed was a lively conversation about the recent track events. He caught the girl's gaze and gave her a smile, which she returned. Still, her internal reaction was probably no different than what was consuming Max at that moment.

Fucking hell.

"That there’s more going on between you than just professional collaboration," he replied, watching them as they left the buffet with coffee cups and food containers. Max followed his gaze and saw only the familiar hair color and well-known silhouette still dressed in a racing suit as she walked out the door.

Max blinked several times. It took him a moment to process the words. Act cool. Act. Cool.

He knew there was no point in hiding the truth. He suspected that sooner or later people would start guessing. But that someone would be GP—his safe harbor—was a surprise. The last person who would judge him or throw unpleasant remarks.

The man looked back at him, waiting for him to respond. He was smiling slightly, sitting relaxed. Honestly, he had hoped to hear something more pleasant than the never-ending issues with car balance. But he had known Max for a long time and knew how professionally he approached his work—meaning, he wasn't the most expressive. Still, he wanted him to know that if anyone wasn’t going to judge him, it was him.

"Are we just terrible at hiding it, or is it your sharp eye?" Max didn’t quite sigh, but he felt like a massive weight slid off his chest. He smiled slightly and raised his eyes to him.

"Well, I wasn’t entirely sure," Gianpiero smiled more broadly. "But your recent behavior kinda confirmed it for me and well, here we are."

Max knew exactly what he meant. Yet in the spiral of absurdity, he forgot that Gianpiero might be referring to the fact that he was sleeping with a teammate—not that he was sleeping with a teammate and wanted him to guide them through it.

"Sorry," Max sighed this time. "I didn’t mean to act weird."

"Oh, come on, you don’t have to apologize to me," GP shook his head. "From a technical standpoint, as your engineer, I just wanted to know what might be occupying your thoughts."

"Technical standpoint?" Max laughed. "Not as my friend?"

The atmosphere loosened, and Max’s tongue untied on its own. He wasn’t particularly talkative by nature, but with Gianpiero, he had a tendency to ramble like the biggest gossip. From the outside, it might have looked like two grown men talking about work, but in reality, Max was close to giggling and GP was listening like a teenager’s best friend soaking in all the juicy drama.

Max felt so comfortable he barely stopped himself from saying too much. GP probably couldn’t handle that much in one sitting. The older man could tell there was something more, though—the moment Max looked down, fiddling with a salt packet, it was a clear sign something else was up.

"Is there something you want to add?" he asked, looking at Max’s face. He was still smiling gently, genuinely glad that Max had opened up to him. He knew it might not be a big deal—they were both adults—but close relationships in the workplace, especially in F1, were always a minefield.

Max stayed quiet for a while, fighting with himself. But when he looked up and saw nothing but his friend across from him, he thought, fuck it. Just fuck it.

He nodded silently.

Gianpiero, sensing the gravity of what Max was about to say, leaned in closer, rested his elbows on the table, laced his fingers together, and pressed them to his lips. He looked at Max silently, giving him the unspoken green light that he was ready to listen—if Max chose to speak.

The Dutchman looked up and, seeing there was no turning back, took a sip of water. It instantly felt like he'd just swallowed a kilo of sand.

"Promise me this won’t change anything between us, and if it gets weird, you’ll just forget I ever said anything, okay?"

GP nodded. "You have my word, Max."

"We’re looking for someone to join us, you know—" Max looked down again. He felt like he was having a sex talk with a parent.

"For a threesome?" GP asked, totally unfazed. To him, this might as well have been a weather chat.

"Not exactly," Max clarified. "We know you have a wife. It would be unethical."

"She’s a golden woman," GP laughed. "I promise, you’d be surprised."

"But it’s still not about sex," Max emphasized, continuing to play with the salt packet, which was starting to spill. "I mean, it is, but not the way you think".

"Be an adult, look at me, and tell me straight what this is about," he said when silence fell again. Max stopped moving his fingers and obediently looked up at him.

"Good boy," GP smiled. "See? That wasn’t so hard."

That innocent praise was loaded with sexual undertones—and Gianpiero did it entirely on purpose. This time.

"That’s exactly who we need," Max finally choked out. "To guide and lead."

Gianpiero stared at him, and that gaze burned holes through Max. The older man slowly processed what he had just heard, making sure he was following.

"You’re looking for someone to guide you during sex?" he asked, and Max just nodded. "Like a strategist during a race?"

Max nodded again. He was glad Gianpiero was smart enough that he didn’t have to spell it out.

"We both know you hate being told what to do," he said playfully, but Max could swear his voice dropped a little. "You barely listen to me in the car, and now you want to do it while pleasing your own girlfriend?"

A shiver shot through Max’s scalp and down his spine. Gianpiero seemed to be taking immense pleasure in how awkwardly embarrassing this was for him.

"And from what I know, following instructions is not Y/N's favorite thing either," he added, tilting his head slightly. "In that sense, you’re a perfect match."

"She has a praise kink," Max threw out, even though no one asked. "And she listens to authority. I promise, she values your knowledge and skills."

"You flatter me. I might blush," GP laughed, resting his chin on his clasped hands. "Alright, let’s say we’ve got one eager student. What about you? Would you follow instructions?"

"It would be a different situation."

"You’d still have to obey."

"You want me to say I’d be a good boy?" Max felt like he’d never blushed this hard. But something gave him incredible courage. He didn’t flinch and looked GP straight in the eyes.

"Would you be a good boy?"

Fucking Gianpiero Lambiase.

"Yes," Max swallowed hard. "I would."

"I need to hear the whole sentence, Max. Use your words, please," GP leaned back in his chair. A soft smile still danced on his lips. Seeing Max embarrassed like that after all these years together was wildly satisfying.

"Yes, I’d be a good boy."

Gianpiero smiled and finished his now-cold coffee. "I’ll talk to my wife and let you know soon."

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

What the fuck was that?

The conversation Max had with Gianpiero in the buffet certainly made him feel lighter. But it wasn’t until he stood under the hot shower in his hotel bathroom that it really hit him—he had just invited Gianpiero into his bedroom. His and Y/N's bedroom. Y/N, who didn’t know anything yet.

Later that evening, Max, without warning, went to the girl’s hotel room and knocked on the door. She opened in a robe and with a face mask on, clearly not expecting him. Still, she didn’t send him away. She continued her evening routine, and Max followed her closely. They talked about the day, Max sat on the edge of the tub, and she finished her skincare.

"I talked to GP," he said at one point, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She met his gaze—and seeing the look on his face, she knew exactly what he meant.

"No," her shoulders dropped heavily, and Max only nodded.

"You didn’t talk to GP," she turned to face him, and Max just nodded again. The girl pressed her fingers to her lips. Oh fuck.

"He was actually very positive about it," he admitted, shrugging. The girl shook her head and tilted it back.

"I can't believe you did that, Max."

"It was... definitely something," he admitted, glancing at the girl.

She sighed, shaking her head again and standing in front of the mirror, closing a jar of cream. "There's no way he's going to agree. We made ourselves look like complete idiots."

Matter of fact: They didn’t make themselves look like complete idiots. And GP had already agreed—in the buffet. His wife shortly after.

Max decided to go back to his room and relax a bit with a stream. He was just about to leave the girl’s room when his phone buzzed. With one hand on the door handle, he reached into his pocket with the other to grab the phone. When he saw who the message was from, his heart skipped a beat. He swiped the screen to unlock it and tapped on the message icon.

GP: Told you my wife’s a golden woman. Green light here. GP: Just let me know time and place.

Max smiled to himself, and before Y/N could even ask what was going on, he silently showed her the phone in his hand. They looked at each other and both burst out laughing.

So it’s happening. It really is.

[visualtaehyun]

TNP EP.8 language annotations & novel extras ✨

So last week I only wrote about the NC scene since it was the only thing where something major in terms of language happened (plus, I compared it to the novel scene here). This week I'm back to writing about the full episode though!

As always, I'm lazy and making my previous annotations (EP.1, EP.2, EP.3, EP.4, EP.5, EP.6) required reading for explanations of pronouns and expressions so that I can just skip over them here 🙂‍↕️ Pronouns presented in a format such as เรา/เธอ /rao, ter/ are meant to be understood as "I/you". Also, I'll just be going through the episode chronologically! Let's goooo~

Disclaimer: not a native Thai speaker, still learning 🙏

พี่รัณ ทำไม ยังไม่ชินหรอ /phi Ran. ...tham mai? yang mai chin raaw/ = P'Ran. ...What? Not used to it yet?

นินอยากให้ตามใจอะ พี่รัณจะไม่ตามใจนินจริงหรอ /Nin yaak hai dtaam-jai a. phi Ran ja mai dtaam jai Nin jing raaw/ = I want [you] to indulge [me]. You're really not going to indulge me?

Nin & Calvin: เรา/[title+name] /rao, #/ in both directions -> in front of the King, Calvin uses กระหม่อม /gra-maawm/ with Nin?? -> when they're "off-duty" in Meenanagarin later, they mostly omit pronouns but we hear Nin call him just Calvin, no title, and Calvin still using เรา /rao/

Nin and Calvin are so sweet btw, indirectly communicating about Nin's relationship with Ran :)

It's the moment from the trailer~

1) กระหม่อมคิดว่าคงไม่มีอะไร /gra-maawm khit waa khohng mai mee a-rai/ = I think it is probably nothing [to worry about]. 2+3) แต่หลังจากนี้กระหม่อมอยากให้เราสองคนระวังตัวในการใกล้ชิดกันมากขึ้นพ่ะย่ะค่ะ /dtaae lang jaak nee, gra-maawm yaak hai rao saawng khohn ra-wang dtuaa nai gaan glaai-chit gan maak kheun pha-ya-kha/ = But from now on, I want the two of us to be more careful about being close to each other. 4) ฝ่าบาท 😐 /faa-baat/ = Your Royal Highness.

หากนินไม่ใส่ใจ พี่ว่าการแข่งขันอาจจะเกิดความผิดพลาดขึ้นก็ได้ /haak Nin mai sai jai, phi waa gaan khaaeng khan aat ja geert khwaam-phit-plaat kheun gaaw dai/ = If you don't pay attention, I think that mistakes might very well happen during the competition.

1) ถ้านินตอบผิดอีก นินจุ๊บพี่รัณดีไหม /thaa Nin dtaawp phit eek, Nin joop phi Ran dee mai/ = If I give another wrong answer, how about I give you a kiss? 2) นินมีแต่เสียกับเสียนะ พี่รัณไม่ได้เป็นคนจุ๊บนินแต่นินเป็นคนจุ๊บพี่รัณ /Nin mee dtaae siia gap siia na. phi Ran mai dai bpen khohn joop Nin, dtaae Nin bpen khohn joop phi Ran/ = It's a lose-lose situation for me. You won't be the one kissing me but I'll be the one kissing you.

-> This reminds me of several instances over the last few months of ZNN being asked about clips of them (sniff) kissing which turned from New joking with the reporters about being the one at loss (เสียเปรียบ /siia bpriiap/ = losing the upper hand/advantage, disadvantaged, at a loss) if Hia steals kisses to now whining about being the only one to be captured (sniff) kissing even though it's actually mostly P'Zee who starts (people just aren't fast enough at getting their phones out lol) and how those clips totally make New look bad 🤣

นินแพ้พี่รัณอีกแล้วอะ /Nin phaae phi Ran eek laaeo a/ = I lost to you again.

Nin has one seduction strategy and it's I'm so bored, can you do me instead can we do something else instead?

Oh and I'm happy to report that they fixed that shot of a crew member's head being in frame around the time Nin gets on the horse. Hoooo boy did that bother me when I first watched it 🥴 Anyone else catch it before they resubmitted the episode?

I'm happy they kept this bit from the novels, where Ran gets Nin to introduce himself to the horse, all serious and sincere5555

Nin: แกล้งอ่อ พี่แกล้งนินอ่อ 😾 แกล้งอ่อ /glaaeng aaw? phi glaaeng Nin aaw? glaaeng aaw/ = Teasing? You're teasing me? *kitty-smacks him* Teasing?? Ran: ไม่แกล้งแล้วครับ /mai glaaeng laaeo khrap/ = No more teasing~

1) Ran: ถ้ากลัวบอกพี่ /thaa gluaa, baawk phi/ = If [you're] scared, tell me. Nin: พี่รัณอยู่ด้วย นินไม่กลัวหรอก /phi Ran yuu duay, Nin mai gluaa raawk/ = Having you with [me], I won't be scared. 2) พี่รัณ พอได้ยัง นินกลัวตก /phi Ran... phaaw dai yang? Nin gluaa dtohk/ = P'Ran... [Isn't this] enough [horse riding] already? I'm afraid of falling. 3) อยากให้กอดก็บอกตรง ๆ สิครับ /yaak hai gaawt gaaw baawk dtrohng dtrohng si khrap/ = [If you] want(ed) [me] to hold [you] then just say so openly. 4) รู้ก็กอดสิ /ruu gaaw gaawt si/ = [If you] know then hold [me].

-> This was three years ago but I can't help but remember this adorable moment on a live where P'Zee talked about a (then-)recent beach trip where they'd shared a bed and New apparently kept on moving closer to him to the point P'Zee kept giving him space and almost falling off the bed. Did New want to cuddle actually? (cue shy cat noises) Why not just tell Hia if he wanted to cuddle? Well, if he'd told Hia, would Hia have let him?? If he'd told Hia, then yes! (cue shy cat and dog noises)

1) อยู่กันแบบนี้ก็ดีนะ /yuu gan baaep nee gaaw dee na/ = Being together like this is nice. 2) งั้นอยู่แบบนี้ไปนาน ๆ เลยนะ /ngan yuu baaep nee bpai naan naan loei na/ = Then let's stay like this for a long time. 3) หนักแค่ไหนนินก็โอเค เพราะนินมีพี่รัณอยู่ด้วย /nak khaae nai, Nin gaaw okay. phraw Nin mee phi Ran yuu duay/ = No matter how tough [it gets], I'll be okay. Because I've got you with [me]. 4) ก็อยู่ด้วยกันตลอดอยู่แล้วนี่ /gaaw yuu duay gan dta-laawt yuu laaeo nee/ = Well, [we] have been together this entire time.

1) พี่รัณไม่ต้องกลัวนะ นินอยู่นี้ /phi Ran mai dtaawng gluaa na. Nin yuu nee/ = You don't have to be afraid. I'm here. 2) [...] เหมือนตอนที่นินไม่เหลืออะไร นินก็มีพี่เข้ามาเติมเต็ม /meuuan dtaawn thee Nin mai leuua a-rai, Nin gaaw mee phi khao maa dteerm dtem/ = [...] just like when I had nothing left, I [still] had you coming in[to my life] to complete [me]. 3) พี่รัณไม่ต้องกลัว ไม่กังวลอะไรแล้วนะ /phi Ran mai dtaawng gluaa, mai dtaawng gang-wohn a-rai laaeo na/ = You don't have to be scared or anxious about anything anymore. 4) เพราะว่านินจะอยู่ข้าง ๆ พี่ /phraw waa Nin ja yuu khaang khaang phi/ = Because I'll be right beside you.

เสด็จพ่อจะไม่รู้เรื่องนี้ /sa-deht por ja mai ruu reuuang nee/ = Father will not know about this.

I've now replayed Paytai's moan and subsequent unsubbed line an unholy amount of times so I'm gonna make an educated guess as to what he might be whispering:

เสียวครับ /siaao khrap/

เสียว /siaao/ = thrilling, tingly, giving chills or goosebumps, a sharp sensation or spasms -> used in context of thrill rides, fear/horror, pain, and sex/arousal

For some more context, if you read my post about EP.7's RanNin NC scene, I included a short excerpt from the novel there. Just before that Ran keeps trying to get an incoherent Nin to voice how he's feeling to which Nin--

"'เสียว อึก... อ๊า... เสียว' คณินทร์สมองเบลอ [...]" /'siaao. euk... ah... siaao' Khanin sa-maawng blur/ from the official English translation: "'Feels... ugh... ah... It feels good,' Khanin's mind blurred [...]"

And Paytai's second unsubbed utterance also kinda sounds like เสียวอะ /siaao a/, I guess??

Moving on to Meenanagarin~ Wasin starts out as formal as ever, as he's welcoming both Calvin and Nin, and then switches to his familiar ลุง/หลาน /loong, laan/ again as he's talking to Nin who himself is still as formal as before, though we finally hear Nin call him 'uncle' -> กระหม่อม/เสด็จลุง /gra-maawm, sa-deht loong/ + พ่ะย่ะค่ะ /pha-ya-kha/

I honestly teared up a little when Wasin compared Nin to the child he lost:

ถ้าลูกของลุงยังอยู่ คงจะมีอายุเท่า ๆ กับหลานนี่ /thaa luuk khaawng loong yang yuu, khohng ja mee aa-yoo thao thao gap laan nee/ = If my child were still alive, they would probably be the same age as you.

-> There's nothing to indicate gender here, the subber just knows more than us probably :D

1) ถ้าท่านชายต้องการอะไร เรียกกระหม่อมได้ตลอดเวลาพ่ะย่ะค่ะ /thaa than-chaai dtaawng gaan a-rai, riiak gra-maawm dai dta-laawt weh-laa pha-ya-kha/ = Should you need anything, please call for me at any time. 2) พี่รัณ นอนกับนินสิ /phi Ran, naawn gap Nin si/ = P'Ran, sleep with me. 3) พี่ก็อยากอยู่กับนิน [...] /phi gaaw yaak yuu gap Nin/ = I want to stay/be with you as well.

ไม่ดื้อนะครับ /mai deuu na khrap/ = Be good, please./No being stubborn, okay? พักผ่อนนะครับ /phak phaawn na khrap/ = Get some rest, please.

Nin: สวยเนาะ /suay naw/ = Pretty, no? Ran, clearly looking at Nin: สวยครับ /suay khrap/ = Pretty.

Nin: คนที่โคตรจะดุ โคตรจะเนี้ยบ /khohn thee khoht ja doo, khoht ja niiap/ = Someone who's this damn strict, this damn neat - แต่เวลาตามใจนิน น่ารักที่สุดเลย /dtaae weh-laa dtaam- jai Nin, naa-rak thee soot loei/ = - yet when [you're] indulging me, [you're] the absolute cutest! Ran: แต่พี่ก็ตามใจนินไม่ได้ทุกอย่างหรอก /dtaae phi gaaw dtaam-jai Nin mai dai thook yaang raawk/ = I can't indulge you in everything though.

ทำตามหน้าที่ ดุก็เพราะหน้าที่ /tham dtaam naa-thee, doo gaaw phraw naa-thee/ = Following [your] duty, being strict because of duty, too! แต่ที่ชอบกันอะ ไม่ใช่เพราะหน้าที่ใช่ป่ะ /dtaae thee chaawp gan a, mai chai phraw naa-thee, chai bpa/ = But [us] liking each other, that's not out of (a sense of) duty, right?

When Nin goes to speak with the guy who first brings up Assavadevathin's mines, there's a few things going on. For one, this isn't Prince Khanin speaking, it's just Nin, so he politely adds a ครับ /khrap/ when addressing this stranger. All of these people are justifiably angry though and they show it through their language use, too. No ราชาศัพท์ /raa-chaa-sap/, barely even a polite word. Guy 1 starts out rude enough already, referring to himself as กู /guu/, guy 3 (?) curses but uses polite pronouns:

คุณแม่ง โคตรเห็นแก่ตัว /khun maaeng! khoht hen gaae dtuaa/ = You fucking-! [You're] so damn selfish!

People are getting loud and rude now, guy 2 (??) uses กู/มึง /guu, meung/, then guy 1 goes in for the killing blow:

ถ้าไม่มีพวกมึงอะ พ่อแม่คงไม่ตายเว้ย /thaa mai mee phuak meung, por mae khohng mai dtaai woei/ = If it weren't for you guys, my parents wouldn't have died!

⇒ emblems, territories and royal houses of Emmaly ⇒ royal family of Emmaly + other character bios ⇒ relationship chart ⇒ characters and cast of TNP ⇒ all my TNP posts

[factcheckingmclennon]

hello i was hoping you could shed a little light on the whole "john wrote if i fell on a valentines day card to paul" fact. ive heard it mentioned here a few times but not much elsewhere.

yeah ! hysterically that's what started me posting about the beatles over on my main so i've got this on standby lol but

did john write the lyrics to "if i fell" on a valentine's card addressed to paul?

now was he serious? was he joking? did HE address the card to paul? those i can't answer, but he did write the lyrics on a card addressed to paul. this one's pretty short !

it mostly just shows up on here bc it's not really of interest outside of fandom circles like i don't think there's bound to be any articles or books mentioning it bc the average beatle fan truly would not give more than 2 fucks about it, but that might change with the new ian leslie book bc i know he has a bit on "if i fell" in there and i wouldn't be shocked if it was mentioned

the source is this auction site where it was sold and here's the image:

from the site, it says it was written on a card that was given to paul:

Autograph manuscript for "If I Fell", from "A Hard Days Night", aboard a U.S airline, c. late February, 1963. Written on the back of a valentine which had been given to Paul, and which was apparently the only suitable writing surface available at 30,000 feet, the manuscript is 1 page, written on the verso of the unfolded valentine on one half of the sheet, approximately 11 1/2 x 6 in. "If I Fell" is one of John's most powerfully poignant ballads, and one of the most important and early songs to appear at auction. Ostensibly written while the Beatles were in America for a famous appearance on the Ed Sullivan show, John, sitting in the plane seat next to Paul suddenly got the inspiration for one of the best songs which would be released on 1964's landmark "A Hard Days Night." By the cadence and subtleties of the lyrics you can tell that John already has the music in his head as he fits it with the perfect words. Time stands still, something very special is coming to life as he sits working on the back of Paul's valentine.

where they got any of that story, i have no idea, so the story itself i'm taking with a grain of salt buuuut you can flip & zoom in on the dedication and see that it says "to paul with love" with either a bunch of hearts (which is what i initially assumed) or x's for kisses

(which is, btw, the best and only quality you can find of this unfortunately, but last year i did my best to trace over it so it's easier to see)

to me the handwriting very clearly matches john's, especially if you look at the lyrics themselves or other samples of his handwriting, but it's not 100% confirmed to be john's handwriting on the dedication. it could've been a fan's! or john making a lil joke. or him being serious. that part's murky. but it Is addressed to paul

[ventique18]

Exsqueeze me sebeks parents did not endure scrutiny for u to say lilia raised him 😒🙄 /lighthearted /in a joking manner

Inb4 Lilia launders Sebek's birth records and writes himself as his legal dad so the four of them could be a happy family

LMAOOO yeah jokes aside, I'm actually one of the few who believe Sebek doesn't think of Lilia as a parent. 😊 Lilia is strictly his teacher; he loves his grandpa and mama and papa and frequently talks about them! Even if he pretends he hates his dad LOL

The next paragraphs are just me rambling btw and not a reply anymore bc this is a good opportunity to explore a bit

Related to my last post 👀 about Lilia teaching his boys to embrace failure, I was strictly referring to Silver and Malleus bc they're the only ones he actually raised from infancy. It's also pretty interesting how twst conveys this dynamic by showing that Sebek was never jealous of Silver getting coddled by Lilia, but Malleus is as shown in the Halloween cards. Likewise, Silver is in denial but is jealous when he thinks that Malleus' birth was Lilia's happiest moment in life. Their relationship is pretty complex, but shows that there is a specific deep-rooted feeling of brotherhood between them that they don't share with Sebek. Specific meaning that they think they're actual brothers, rather than just people who share a deep bond.

It's a bit sad when you think of it at surface level, but is overall good for the narrative. Sebek has always been designed as the "outsider"; one who belongs neither here nor there, but at the very core of it is in the unique position of being both. The bridge that connects two completely different worlds. The liaison who can understand both Silver and Malleus without bias and the voice of reason who can mend the inevitable distance between them.

[jeffrrandell]

Explanation for the connection I made lol 👇

I'm gonna at least slightly explain Tord and Gravy being roommates. I'm not going to lie to you guys, this was a joke made because when my friends and I were watching "Technical Foul" from 8 Crazy Nights we were like "that's like if Tord crashed at Gravys house tbh" and then it turned into "Tord somehow becomes Gravys roommate after he leaves Edds house, for like maybe 2-3 years. And it's almost like a Disney movie. Tords just happy he has a place to stay, and he knows Gravy is just soooooo nice but man is he annoying. So he's not mean to him, he just is autistic and only ever likes Edd anyway basically. But he warms up to em. Gravy works a ton of jobs, and Tord cleans up around the house. And an odd but actually important detail is Gravy smokes weed (because of all of these jobs), and Tord took interest in that. Getting high together kinda made it easier for his nerves to be calmed down, and it made it easier for him to realize "oh Gravy is just a guy". Of course afterwards, Gravy turns back to jumpy goofy Gravy, but Tord learned to appreciate the energy. Tord and Blonzie were already slight acquaintances, actually before Tord met Gravy. Somehow for whatever reason Tord ends up at the auto shop he works at, probably asked about a pile of spare parts that looked like junk and Blonzie said "take em". So they had that for a while. They're mechanically intelligent together. Plus Tord finds his stunts REALLY cool, as he loves destruction too. He'd love to invent little things for him to try out. They also both have "I'm gonna be silent now" autism. Anyway, he never in his life expected for Gravy to be like "meet my boyfriend" and "oh whataya know, it's the guy that calls me Tiny and gives me spare parts". Not sure if it makes sense for Tord to still be living with Gravy when he gets with Blonzie or not, but either way they'd make a really weird fun trio. Gravy definitely opened up Tords weird side for him. Because Tord is just so closeted around everyone, even Edd didn't know a few secrets about him (for probably crush related reasons, intimidation.) But with Gravy, it sorta didn't matter to him what he told him. He'd listen, and I mean it's sad but. Gravys a huge loser who's pushed around EVERYDAY, and for a bit Tords view on that was "well he has it worse than I do so he can't judge me"

But yeah, they're friends lol

In a WTFuture timeline, this was also a joke that turned out to be something that we all kinda liked. I believe in Tord clone theory btw! Basically one day, Not Tord shows up to Gravys house one day. Reminder that if this is a bad timeline, Blonzie is dead sorry. But yeah Gravy notices something is off about him. Very off. Like, somehow this Tord knows Gravy would call him "buddy" buuut.. Tord never called HIM "buddy". Blah blah blah somehow Gravy is in the Red Army. And I don't mean as a soldier, the last thing Tord wants is for him to die actually. As in any timeline, Gravy will work a million jobs. And that's exactly what he does. I'm talking coffee runs and goofy shit like that. Because to me, yeah Red Leader is "WOAAHH crazy leader man scary he's taking over the world" but it's EDDSWORLD, so he's also "aw man. My helmet stinky" "play just dance with me I'm bored" like y'know. Before this concept, I was like "yup. Gravy is the first to die in this timeline" and then it turned into "Tord wants to keep him alive because he'd be dead bored without him"

And I'm serious it's gets so goofy. To a point where THIS Tord also opens up to Gravy, crying about Edd and being like "I'LL JUST GET RID OF ALL THE COKE IN THE WORLD I CANT LOOK AT IT ANYMORE!!" and then he's like "😲💡" and then Gravy talks about his feelings too.

Potentially as well, since Gravy is trained in medical, he could also technically take care of wounded soldiers and almost act as a doctor but ONLY back at headquarters, he's not allowed to go anywhere he'd be in danger. Anyways. Yup. My sick and twisted mind.

[shanblackrx]

Ok, first of all, I have just rewatched the special episode and although I already knew how it'd end, the moment the credits went up I literally buried my face in my hands and SOBBED. It's not that hard to make me cry with media, but I usually just tear up and nothing more. The last time I remember sobbing like this was with the end of Chimera Ants arc of Hunter x Hunter manga, which is a completely different type of story and media whatsoever, back in 2012. And I didn't know the end. Spectacular manga btw go read it

That said, I'm freshly out of it so here's a few of my considerations, personal opinions and also my theory. I'm not diving into the analysis of the episode itself for now, as I like to make these for more specific things I find in the work so they deserve a separate post for each, though I will be analyzing the post-credits scene because we don't have answers so we need to speculate.

Looooong text with almost no pictures ahead, just my yapping:

I expected the special episode to be really just Jack and Joke's cute little established relationship, which we did get to see (they're so disgustingly sappy, oh my god. I love them) for a good chunk of the episode. But we all also expected the wedding which, technically, did happen, just not how we wanted.

I think a lot of us just wanted only the happy part of it, maybe just a small conflict that would resolve within the story, which is what special episodes usually offer, especially because the original series wraps up perfectly and doesn't really give that much room for a continuation. And I think that because a lot of people expected this, they were utterly disappointed with it, even mad (that and also killing off one of the leads, like. Yeah I get it lol).

And I understand. Jack & Joker is perfectly balanced, with a nice and perfect ending. If I could choose, I wouldn't want a continuation either - you know, the chances of ruining a perfectly good show increases if you extend it for more than it should, and J&J is already perfect the way it is.

But I was offered the special episode, and now I have to work with it.

The first time I watched it I thought it was a bit rushed and confusing, albeit very intense (in a positive way). In my much calmer (as one can be), much less stressed out and anxious mood of my rewatch, I could feel it better. And I think it's way more seamless than I thought at first. Curiously, I also had the same feeling with the og series; it got so, so much better once I've rewatched it, and it kept getting better with all the small details I caught in every new watch.

It still has all the essence of J&J. The absurd comedy, the action, the romance, the heavy angst, the visuals, the lack of canon tattooaran even if it's heavily hinted. So all in all it was still a complete J&J experience.

I really do like the fact Save is not a perfect boss - he's basically just a math kid. He's not prepared to take care of a whole neighborhood like he did with bank accounts. Variables - people - were not in the system of his little bank computer. Taking care of a whole community is no easy task, especially since he is no mafia, he doesn't have the kind of experience and intimidation to keep bad apples in check. And even so, he still worked his hardest; and even so, it's still not enough.

So having criminals that were under Alice's thumb but now scattered like cockroaches searching for another ditch make having control over these fires they set even harder. I think it's a nice and coherent touch, and stuff happening because of it makes sense.

Also, although the uwu language JackJoke used throughout the moments they were out and about making everyone unwilling witnesses of their disgusting love was extremely funny and cute, it was really nice to see their heartfelt conversation when they were alone in Jack's room. It felt much more like they were baring their hearts for the other to hold, a genuine moment of intimacy, especially since they were making their wedding invites individually and by hand. It bore such a huge significance to their relationship I really can't begin to tell you how much I loved this scene. (they're also wearing shirts of complementary colors 😭💚)

I wasn't really expecting Carbon to make a comeback. But his explanation on why makes sense, and once again it hints that money and power walk together. It also gives him a more definite end (dying, finally. bitch) to take him out the picture for good since he could just eventually walk out the prison and go after them once again.

The casino mission was SUCH a delightful surprise to me! It's such a heavy wave to the pilot episode and it was really thrilling. Joke playing and cheating on poker was one of the sexiest things he could've ever done in his life lmao also even when he's cheating he manages to be gay af with his little ace and jack cards.

Admittedly, I was a bit underwhelmed with the fighting scenes. A lot of them were subpar compared to the ones in the og show, it not only lacked intensity but it was also awkward to see people in the background waiting to join the fight instead of throwing themselves into it, much like Jack's rampaging into Boss' office, which is one of my absolute favorite scenes in the og show, that's what I was expecting of them. However it was super nice to see the other piggies fighting with what they had, showing they were better prepared. Aran here takes the cake for me.

After that it was downhill. Joke not letting other people decide his destiny is one of the most Joke things in the entire show. With all that was happening it was rather predictable, but then again J&J does its thing and takes the predictability for a twist. "กูรักมึงที่รัก" ???? Using tirak in this situation when every other situation it was used was extremely, sickeningly sweet? Devastating. These words in that tone will be branded on my brain forever.

The whole thing with Jack going through the stages of grief and the ghost wedding destroyed me, even more so in my rewatch. Once again I'm here EATING UP Yin's crying scenes (one of my most favorite scenes in any BL ever is Vee crying under the rain at the bridge). I know everyone talks about War's acting when it comes to crying and obviously he always nails it, but I still think Yin should have more recognition in these kind of scenes too, because he always manage to make it so heartbreaking, and it wasn't different here.

The swings scene with him hallucinating Joke to be able to accept his presumed death was one of the most beautiful, most heartbreaking 'endings' I've seen in a Thai BL.

HOWEVER. I absolutely refused to believe they'd actually end in that note. It could be as devastatingly beautiful as it gets but I genuinely thought if they ended it like that it'd be SUCH a huge stab in the back of fans. Jack and Joke barely managed to live a happy life to then be yanked from it. It really didn't feel fair, that they gave us such a perfect little ending in the og show to then just say 'how about no?'. I was honestly in shock and denial. I was really thinking like 'I really, genuinely don't think they'd do this. I will only believe it ends like this when the episode reaches the end and stops playing by itself.'

And I'm glad I thought like that because they really didn't let me down. Some Marvel level of post-credits scene this is. The relief to see Joke isn't actually dead. The enormous cliffhanger.

I still am of the opinion that J&J didn't need a continuation, but now that it's out there, I just hope it's as good as the og show. And that maybe we don't have to wait for another 2 years, although I will gladly do so if that means they will deliver another sublime experience.

But I also hope it ends with that and they manage to move on to other, new things, because they've already proven they can do anything they want and it will be good. I really, really want them to take over the Thai BL world as a power couple with their independent productions, because they showed everyone they can.

Now, to the post-credits scene. Here goes my theory:

Reading all theories and also frying my brain to come up with what will they do with that cliffhanger, I thought of something that might make sense. This, however, would only work (well) in a full 10-12 eps season rather than another special episode or movie.

First of all, I think it's a new character (and that's why I think this will only work with a full season, because introducing a new character just for a short episode will give no substance to it). It's no one we know and I tell you why I think that: Joke had someone specific in mind. I don't think he's talking about Carbon here. Especially because everyone in the conversation knows Carbon very personally, he could just say his name.

So having this in mind, he might've been referring to this new character. So the fact this person is the one... 'housing' Joke, and who tended to his wounds, and also for his shock, this person might be either an old cellmate or someone else that's been incarcerated and Joke knows about or personally. Maybe a rival thief. So he's talking about this person here.

Also, VERY important missing information in the subs: Joke says "someone like me" in the sense of 'has the same abilities/did/does the same things'. This is crucial information that is in several other subs but not in the English one. Because the English subs on this ep are dogshit, lbr.

So I think one option that could happen:

This person wants Joke to either work for or with them. After all, you can't just wipe an alias like "legendary thief" in a year. Whatever it is that they want him for, it might be convenient for them that Joke's deemed dead, or they actually needed Joke to "die" for it to work. They might be in cahoots with someone we already know, or they might be acting alone.

This can be a double-edged sword because the person can be good, neutral or evil and we might not know until the very last minute.

Now one thing that caught my attention: The black shirt in the background.

Absolutely nothing when it's about clothes is Just There in J&J. There's always a lot of subtle storytelling in their clothes, especially when it comes to black and white. And specifically a black shirt hanging in so openly there and no other piece of clothing while Joke is wearing white? This is deliberate.

Do you remember Jack's red ticket? When the joker turns black to white, etc? This might be the opposite of that. This might mean starting from square one, undoing everything up to that point, or it might also mean Joke's darkening arc. Joke's wearing white, so washing this away to taint it black. It might also mean someone who's opposite of him if the shirt is referring to this new character, but I'm not too sold on this idea since black is mainly Jack's motif, especially in relation to Joke. Also, maybe this is the 'enemies' Nang was talking about.

And maybe because Joke has no choice but to do what he's told, whether if it's under threat or because maybe Jack would be in danger if he doesn't because that's their thing, or both, probably both, he can't show up to Jack or any of the piggies, and that is the main conflict of the season.

This can tie with the whole 'moving on' thing about Jack that everyone is terrified of. I don't think that even if it might seem so to add to the tension, Jack will ever actually move on; not FROM Joke at least. He can move on from the pain, make peace with the idea he's not coming back, but not from what he feels for Joke. If Joke appeared in front of him be it tomorrow or in 10 years, he'd probably just resume their lives together (after coming back from the shock of seeing him alive which can take some time). He himself said Joke is the one he loves the most. And some people change you so viscerally and completely that they'll always mean the same to you, forever, which is definitely the case for both.

Maybe if we're going through this route because J&J's classic angst and pain, Joke's gonna watch him from afar going on with his life, then that lack of self-worth he has that I'm pretty sure doesn't just vanish in such a short time even if he's found love and some healing, might keep him from approaching Jack even if he wants to and can do so; he wouldn't want to ruin whatever Jack has built without him so far.

If that's the case, if this really happened, I'd want Jack to find out and tackle Joke on the ground when he's being watched just like their first encounter after the 5 years. It'd be one of the most poetic cinema cycle closing one could pull off with this possible new season. But that's just my wishful thinking.

It can also be something completely different and I'm all for it as long as it retains J&J vibe, quality and unpredictable turns.

And also many more YinWar kissies, there's never enough of those.

[yooglefics]

Reveal — Part two: editing

Pairing: Yoongi x fem!reader ( camboy!yoongi x camgirl!reader )  Wordcount: 1,735 words Genre: 18+, mdni, remainder to not use fanfics as your only source of sex ed. Summary: Yoongi is just helping a friend help you, but is he even supposed to listen to this?. Part 2 of Reveal: recording. Read it for context. This is just why and how we got to that ending. More warnings under read more.

Includes: Mentions of selling sex content. People recording sex acts. Mentions of sexual activity ( doing things and also talking about doing things and thinking about doing more things ). Mentions of past and not past masturbation ( f and m ).  Dirty talk? I guess?. Sprinkle of possessive yoongi? Is not my fault i sweaaaar Author's note: Remember when I started writing something short and silly lmao, what a time. Btw, I have never used OF so if something I say about how they use the website is actually not true / completely wrong just pretend please lmao. Anyway, I thought it'd be fun to write Yoongi's side, hope you like it! If you do please remember to leave a comment, reblog, ask, follow and what not. Thank you for reading <3

Saturday is probably Yoongi's favorite day of the week. No waking up early, no work, and not worrying about having to do any of those the next day.

That's why he groans when his phone rings with messages from Jungkook. He knows is him because he is the only one who still insists on sending him a million messages instead of just one. 

Love the guy, but he can be annoying.

The fifth ring comes and hopping is the last one, Yoongi finally reaches for his phone and rolls to his back. 

JK: hey JK: are you awake? JK: and free today? JK: i need a favor JK: yoongi?

Yoongi: with what? If I have to leave my house is probably a no.

Both of them know that actually, even if it ruined his plans of relaxing, he would say yes. Because that's what friends do.

JK: no no. You can do it at your house  JK: I need to edit an audio for my friend JK: but I'm on the schedule today JK: and if I don't send it back quickly she will back out JK: please? 

Yoongi: ok. Send it to me. Yoongi: you own me, tho.

Throwing his phone on the bed, he gets out of it to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, getting ready to sit in his studio for at least an hour. He knows is probably a bit extra to use his expensive equipment for whatever this favor is, but if he is going to help, he is going to do it right.

Opening Jungkook's messages on his laptop, Yoongi almost wants to laugh at himself.

JK: [ killmepls.mp3 ] JK: is and OF thing, btw JK: don't listen to it in public lol

Yep, definitely Poducer Min equipment is too extra for this. But, fuck it.

The archive is already downloaded when he opens the software, starting a new project and naming it the same as the audio plus final, to not get confused. Plugging in his headphones he starts playing it, already noticing whoever this is, is pretty quiet at the beginning and he would most likely have to cut it off, still, he listens to make sure.

A few taps followed by a “hi..” is the start, and he chuckles at their giggles.

He decides to let that in, but cuts the next few seconds where only their breathing can be heard along with some clicking and fabric moving. Is too long of a pause for this kind of thing and the clicking gives a way they weren't ready to start. Sure they wouldn't mind.

They put music on? It sounds familiar but is pretty fade out, so he can't really be sure, and then “This angle is kinda…” 

That's him.

That's his voice.

“Hot,” the voice continues before he can rewind.

“You can't tell me I'm mean anymore. I'm spoiling you,” his own voice travels again on his headphones. “I'm giving you this view and I'm giving you what's probably the thing you all ask the most: hands.”

What is this? Some kind of joke?

Did Jungkook put them up to this?

“I hate him. I'm gonna sue him,” 

That gets a laugh from him, even if he is still confused about what is happening.

Maybe it's just his imagination?

Should he ask his friend?

More movement of fabric. Maybe bed sheets or clothes. More breathing, a bit faster than last time and then, a groan. 

He can leave that in.

Wait, that's right. He is supposed to be editing this. He has to go back and…

“This angle is kinda…” his voice says and he hits pause. Is really him. Is that possible?

He feels like he is imagining things.

“Jungkook, I swear if this is some kind of joke or something,” he rambles taking his phone out.

Yoongi: did you listen to it?

JK: no, didn't have time JK: why? something wrong? JK: don't tell me it can't be used JK: she is gonna be sad :(

Yoongi: who is she?

JK: dunno if i can tell you 

Yoongi: technically I'm doing a favor for her. I think is fair 

JK: good point JK: is afterhours(y/n)

He opens a new tap on his laptop, goes to the website and searches for the username through his followers. And sure enough there it is. Subscribed a month ago.

He clicks to see your perfil. The first post he can see without being subscribed is a picture of a lilac lingerie set on a bed with the caption “very early birthday present”, from a week ago. 

He considers subscribing to see more, but he stops himself from clicking, remembering Jungkook didn't even want to tell him who you were. Oh, shit. What would you do if you knew it was him editing your audio? Would you back out? Or be sad?

Now it feels kind of wrong, like if he were invading your privacy.

He clicks around on his computer again, audio track back to the zero seconds mark. He hears the “hi” and the giggles and stops it before his voice appears. 

“Okay, this is going to be posted. It was recorded with the intention of being posted for people to hear,” he reasons. “If it's not posted I'd just forget about it and if it is… I'd… subscribe? To make up for listening?”

Clearly that part is not completely made up on his mind, but he doesn't have to decide what to do right now, he has to finish editing. And so, Yoongi clicks around the software again, cutting and deleting another section, the one where you can hear his voice and even his music before.

That's it. It was a familiar track because it is his. He composed that himself to put in the background of his videos exclusively. He figured putting his own touch would help if something was posted outside his page, never imagining hearing it in the background of someone else's video or audio was even possible.

It shouldn't affect him this much. After all, people touching themselves to his videos is half the reason he likes making them. What can he say? Is a turn on to have that effect on others, it builds his confidence up.

But actually hearing it is different. 

Groan and fabric moving, a bit too close to the mic he considers doing something about it, but “I want you to touch me,” is the perfect whisper. Just the right volume, just the right words.

No more audio of SugaD can be heard now, you probably turn down the volume of the video or pause it. Yoongi is curious about it. The idea of your sounds being a reaction to his past self is doing things to him, and Yoongi would like to ignore them before getting too distracted, but is kind of a boomer not knowing exactly what your reactions are for.

Maybe he can open his video, it wouldn't be hard for him to synchronized it with your audio and—

No.

That would cross the line. Is enough that he—

“Are you hard?” your voice continues, timidly he thinks. 

Is this your first time doing this? That's why you couldn't edit yourself?

What would you do if you knew he was listening and his dick was calling for attention at all your little sounds?

He stops your recording, considers taking a break, going back to bed. But he knows just forgetting about this would be hard and in the end he would have to come back and finish helping.

He unpaused it.

More moans echo throughout his headphones and he fixes them on top of his head, as if that would help him concentrate. You just sound so pretty, and when you plead he wants to give you anything you ask for, his dick twitching with desire.

He could just— no. That'll be wrong. Is enough he is letting it affect him this much, he can't just—

His leg bounces under his desk, hand glue to his mouse even when he is just listening now. Only stopping and going back a couple times to fix the volume of background noise, making it less or more obvious depending on the flow or your moans.

A groan of his own cuts the silence in his studio when you form words again. “It feels so good, oh god.” And Yoongi wishes he knew what. Wishes he could see you, could touch you. Could make you sound and feel that good in person.

“Uh uh,” short moans leave your lips, and it sounds so much like you're agreeing with his thoughts he really considers sneaking a hand down his pants. Allow his mind to wander and imagine what you would look like under him. Or on top. Or just coming undone by him.

But he doesn't. He just listens to your recording, your breathing, your pleas and your cut out warning when you cum.

“Fucking hell,” Yoongi angrily whispers. And for a second he considers doing the SugaD special of cutting it out of the final audio, but that's too selfish.

Or perhaps is more selfish leaving it. Considering he wants the world to hear how you sound when listening to him.

Yoongi managed to leave the studio without touching himself. But is not really as impressive as it sounds since his hand is on his dick the minute he goes back to bed after listening to the final edit of your audio one last time. The excuse of being just to make sure is perfect is just that, an excuse. And your pretty sounds replay on his head while he jerks off until orgasm.

JK: thank youuuu JK: she says thank you too!

Does that mean you know he was the one editing it?

He opens the app on his phone, looks for your perfil again and debates a couple minutes his options. 

What's the worst that can happen? You blocking him? He would understand, but if he actually doesn't do anything, doesn't play his chance, he wouldn't forgive himself.

And so, he subscribes. Page refreshes instantly and a new post greets him.

[ afterhours(y/n):

Surprise, surprise. Is my birthday month but I keep spoiling you, ain't I the best? 😝 

      [ VoiceReveal.mp3 ]

                                                                         ]

Doesn't even have to listen to it, his fingers move on their own, “the cutest”, he comments.

♡ Tag list: @m00njinnie , @sexytholland , @seoullove96 , @thelilbutifulthings , @disneyprincessshuri ,

( is hereee! I appreciate u guys hehe <3 ) ( if anyone else wants to be tagged in the future, let me know )

➪ Part one. | ➪ Part three. | ➪ Updates for this verse | ➪ Ko-fi

➪ Main masterlist. | ➪ Updates in general | ➪ Request & chats ♡