#...and like I KNOW they all talk with each other between each other more than I ever get reached out to

[chrissv4mp]

MISS ME? ᝰ.ᐟ

warnings. smut, angst, fluff, fingering, g!p (girl penis), p in v, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, car sex, switch!billie × switch!reader, added characters, porn with some sort of plot, language.

synopsis. billie eilish. everybody knows her: the girl who always left both men and women in the dust during her races. you've been the starter to each one of them, and recently, you've noticed she hasn't been showing up. it's been two years, and when a big new name comes into town, billie's quick to pull up to reclaim her special title. and her girl.

au. g!p street racer!billie × starter!reader

words. 6.7k

letters. let's excuse my horrific description of street racing—and just cars in general.... also, i'm re-reading this and just now realizing i only made one reference to 'just keep watching...' the song i was originally taking inspiration from—alongside '2 hands' and 'sports car'..... anyway, enjoyyy!!! i had so much fun writing this 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

there's a stretch of road just outside of the city no one uses anymore—too bumpy for traffic, too dark for cameras, and too far out for any law official to care. potholes like craters. traffic lights flickering yellow every now and then. most maps don't even list the name of the street anymore.

but the second the clock ticks past 11pm, the place lights up like vegas. and everyone who matters knows where to go.

you're always there before the first wave of engines start to pull in, headphones slung around your neck, pistol on your waist, boots up on the concrete barrier like you own the damn place—because you basically do. since you were just sixteen. an older girlfriend of yours had brought you to one of the races, offered to let you shoot the starting pistol, and you fell in love with it instantly. the adrenaline. the rush. and now, five years later you're not even the slightest bit bored.

your clipboard's tucked under your arm, pen behind your ear, eyes focused on the roster of names and heats for the night.

behind you, the old lot's filling fast—old imports, mustangs, beat-up chevys with rebuilt engines and matte paint jobs that already have scratches. headlights making the dust particles visible, exhaust rolling low and thick through the air. cars park in crooked rows beside yours, grills gleaming under the floodlight hung on the power pole. some racers lean against their hoods with their arms crossed, scoping out the competition. others are all talk, loud and gassed up, trying to seem special before they even touch the start line.

you don't flinch when engines rev. don't move a muscle when someone pulls up too close. you've been the starter long enough to know who's real and who's noise.

and you? you're something in between. not a racer. not a spectator. but the one who calls the shots, drops the flag—the signal that turns waiting into war.

people watch you more than they should. and, yeah, you notice, you just don't care.

the boys flirt. some ask if you've got a favorite just to see if you'll flatter them. you never do.

you do have a favorite, though.

but you never say her name. not anymore. not after she kissed you without informing you it was her last race and just up and left without another word—without a proper goodbye, without a proper way of letting you know how she felt towards you.

though, you do still say things like: "no one ever drove that curve like she did," or "that start? it was okay. my girl used to redline smoother."

or the one that always riles them up—"mariah's fast, sure. but she wouldn't beat my girl. not if they went head to head."

and that's when they start arguing.

"you're crazy."

"who the fuck even is 'your girl'?"

"mariah would kill her."

you let them talk, let it go in one ear and out the other. you don't bother answering them when they ask who she is. don't mention that you still check the list every week in hopes of her being on it. you don't tell them she's the only racer on the track who ever had your heart stuttering when she looked at you from behind her tinted windshield and smiled like she already knew how the night was gonna end.

it's nearing midnight when a particularly loud engine rolls into the lot, and you look up quickly—a cherry red charger, engine purring low and smug. some whistle. some cheer. others hold up their phones like they're filming something that can only be seen once in a lifetime. mariah moore.

she kills the engine and steps out slow, calm. mariah's a whole show: gold hoops, leather jacket, acrylic nails brushing her tan cheek as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. she doesn't look at you, not at first. but you can feel the way the air shifts.

someone murmurs, "she's takin' it all."

you shake your head mindlessly. your mind drifts. like always.

because even with mariah here—the biggest name in street racing, fastest in the city—she doesn't make the street rumble like billie did, she doesn't even compare to the way billie had your palms sweating and your breath hitching.

you don't say it out loud. but she's already here.

lingering in the sound of a loud bass in someone's car. ghosting through the exhaust haze. trapped in the back of your throat each time someone asks, "who's your favorite?"

they all think mariah would crush her just because you keep her nameless. but you know better.

you know what it felt like when billie pulled up the line, slow and sure, making everybody forget who they really came to watch. you'd recognize the sound of her engine from a mile away, the melody of the song that was always playing when she rolled in.

you're leaning back in one of the old metal chairs under the check-in tent, clipboard in hand now, pen in the other, trying to make sense of the barely legible names scribbled in sharpie and faded pencil. the lot feels more alive than any other night before—laughter echoing off the crumbling brick of the nearby warehouse, engines revving in an effort to intimidate others, bass rocking a few cars subtly.

someone slides up next to you. aiden, one of the other starters. tall, kinda weird, always smells faintly of gasoline and peppermint gum.

"you got heat one lined up yet?" he asks, leaning in to scan the paper over your shoulder.

"workin' on it," you mutter, squinting at the mess of names, pen caught between your teeth. "who the hell wrote 'slim jim with the jaguar'? i swear, these guys are getting out of control."

aiden laughs, full and loud. "hey, that's jaxson. he's been coming out since last spring. you'll probably remember him once his muffler explodes again."

you shake your head with a soft laugh, but your attention stays sharp. you've done this a million times—balancing chaos, keeping things moving, occasionally breaking up a fight or two. you're not just the starter, you run this area of the streets.

"alright," you say, tapping the paper. "heat one is jaxson, reneé, and..."

before you can finish, a silhouette of black and red steps into your peripheral.

mariah.

black leather jacket, tight red crop top, sweatpants low on her hips like she owns the pavement. she walks like a girl who knows she's untouchable—chin up, hair falling over her shoulders effortlessly, eyes locked on you.

"got my name on there?" she asks, voice smooth.

you glance up, meet her gaze. unreadable, but steady. it doesn't faze you at all.

"heat three," you say, clicking your pen and tapping the paper again. "against miles and taylor."

she hums, eyes scanning the list and sighing like she's disappointed. "figured i'd get someone tougher. guess not."

"miles' been doing pretty well," aiden chimes in. "heard taylor's been doing overtime off the track to prepare."

mariah shrugs, uninterested. "i'll dust 'em anyway."

"real humble, moore," is what you want to say, but you keep it in your mind. you don't doubt her words, you just don't feel like she has the right to brag that much just yet.

so you just nod instead, standing up and setting the clipboard on the table beside the flags.

"check-in's by the cones," you say simply, nodding toward the start. "just tell 'em your name and they'll put you in the lineup."

mariah doesn't move right away. she lingers. eyes still on you, tilting her head just a bit to meet your gaze.

"...you seem quiet tonight," she says. "nothin' like before."

you raise an eyebrow, eyes flicking to hers, "and what was i like before?"

she grins. "flirty. sharp. mouthy as hell."

you scoff, turning toward the cars. "maybe your conversations just aren't as flirt-worthy as the other girls' are."

aiden laughs a little, then starts to walk away when mariah glares at him.

mariah laughs, low and real. "okay, starter girl. i'll catch you after i win, sound good?"

you don't respond, instead offering a single nod that doesn't really come off as one. but the second she walks away, that flicker starts again. and not from her. definitely not from her.

from the back of your mind.

the itch of a ghost. again. billie, who always made you stumble over your words like no other—nearly making you forget to shoot the gun when she sent a wink your way from inside her car.

you don't even realizing you're scanning the lot again until aiden comes up and nudges your side.

"expecting someone else tonight?"

you blink. "nah."

but the lie tastes bitter. because billie's name isn't on your list. and you're still looking for her anyway.

praying silently that you'll hear the low hum of a bass line later in the night, that you'll feel the familiar vibration of her engine beneath your feet, through your body.

you look over at the start line just as matthew waves you over. heat one is lined up a few feet behind the line, engines revving, the racers exchanging glances.

the crowd goes quiet as you walk over, starting pistol in one hand, the other resting casually on your hip.

you raise your arm, breathing in deeply, eyes locked on the cars—then you shoot the gun.

they're off before you can even process it, a silver camaro speeding past the line quicker than the others. everyone bursts into loud cheers for their separate bids, others only screaming just to scream.

it was always comforting hearing the cheers and laughter coming from the crowd—even if they weren't for you, it felt like you were still getting your flowers each time you shot the gun and everyone erupted into a loud choir of excitement and happiness. you thrived on it, but never would you dare get behind the wheel and actually drive in one of the races.

billie always terrified you with the way she drove—sometimes with only her knees, other times with one hand while she went 100 on the last curve before she really stepped on the gas and flew down the finish line in first place.

you recall the times she asked you to ride with her. "everything's always better with you. like... like a good luck charm," she'd said to you, fingers twirling a strand of your hair between her fingers before one of the biggest races of her life—and the last race you'd seen her at.

the sound of an engine quickly approaching broke you out of your trance. jaxson's purple jaguar skidding across the finish. reneé comes in second, her black audi following a few feet behind.

then the crowd erupts in mixed reactions, some angry and sad, others screaming and jumping around happily like they've just been rewarded with a million dollars in cash—which, in reality, no bid today was even a quarter of that amount.

the next heat passes by slower than the first, a few rookies taking the wheels of cars that they definitely spent their entire life savings on and didn't research at all.

it's all heat and noise around you—couples kissing over the hoods of cars and girls arguing about something that sounds like a cheating boyfriend? you can't really hear over the loud, obnoxious rev of mariah's charger at the start line, the hood just a few inches away from your legs where you stood between her and her opponent.

you felt the atmosphere change as soon as her name was called to the line. the crowd went quieter, murmurs filling the night instead of loud hollers and disapproving boo's for opposing racers. you couldn't blame them, she was the biggest name in street racing right now—but she was no billie eilish. nowhere near that territory. she didn't even compare to your girl. not now, not ever.

but still, you can feel her eyes on you before she even rolls down her window, smirk calm and cocky. "promise me a date if i win?" it makes your lips curl into a small, amused smile.

"what's the point?" you say, tilting your head to see her better. "i already know taylor's gonna beat you by a mile."

mariah laughs once, hollow. "yeah, funny joke."

you cock a brow. "never said i was joking, moore."

aiden snaps at you off to the side. you don't bother giving him a mere glance. instead, you just walk over to mariah's window and lean over, lips so close she feels your breath on her skin.

"fine," you whisper. "but if you pull some shit like you did last time, except to be blacklisted from any future race you're lookin' forward to."

her expression change is so subtle you're sure nobody would think she's fazed even in the slightest, but you see the way her brows furrow just that little bit, the way her lips twitch in that cocky grin that's wavering on nervous now.

"good luck," the tone of your voice is sweeter than before, eyes softening as you walk back to the middle and pull the gun from it's holster in your belt.

mariah rolls her window back up slowly, eyes locking onto the road in front of her as silence envelopes the crowd.

pop.

and they're off.

everyone lets the quiet continue for a second longer before going insane. grown men are screeching like little girls as they scream mariah's name, bouncing on their toes as they watch her clear the curve. smooth. calculated.

everything she does almost looks staged.

taylor trails behind her in a white bmw m3, drifting around the curve and momentarily grabbing first place. you can feel the tension from all the way across the track, your own heart pounding wildly in your chest—the deal with mariah sounds stupid now that you're watching her keep up with taylor.

"shit," you sigh, stepping back from the track quickly and running a hand through your hair, eyes never once leaving the cars.

aiden walks up just as you say it. you hate how he always has the worst timing. "finally see why mariah was named the best?"

you shake your head, and it slips from between your lips before you can stop it. "no, just finally realizing how stupid i was for promising her a date if she won."

he smirks. "same thing."

the final stretch of the race has you clutching onto your pistol, breath caught in your throat—it's mariah and taylor. miles isn't even in the question anymore, having spun out near the first curve.

it's a blur of white and red as they pass the finish line, engines roaring over the crowds applause and screams. not even you can tell who won—and it seems that neither can the girls as they come to a stop and jump out of their cars, their breaths still controlled as if they didn't have everyone on the edge of their seats.

matthew runs to watch the playback, and you swear you see his hands shaking as he brushes past you.

it's quiet as everyone watches him rewind the tape from the camera at the line.

one beat.

two.

then, "mariah moore. first place by a millisecond."

it's even louder than you expect it to be—people honking their horns while hanging out of them in the parking lot, groups of friends crowding each other and jumping up and down, someone even pulling out a megaphone and starting a chant of mariah's name. that makes you let out a quiet giggle.

but as you watch mariah jump back in her car and park it off to the side, nothing's funny anymore—because her next stop was definitely your house, picking you up late in the afternoon tomorrow for the date.

mariah hops out of her car again, strutting over with even more confidence and cockiness than before. her eyes are locked on you, smile growing, hair flowing perfectly in the cool night air.

she stops in front of you, already pulling her phone out of her back pocket. "think you owe me—"

the sound of an unexpected rev catches everyone's attention. including yours—in fact, you're the first one to turn your head in the direction of the noise.

your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.

that familiar vibration of a bass through blown-out speakers, the thick exhaust smoke trailing behind the car—the car.

billie's black dodge challenger.

mariah is the last thing on your mind now, your eyes locked on the windshield, hoping you'd see her sexy grin even through the dark tint that was definitely illegal. she doesn't even park in a space, just stops in front of the check-in tent and gets out, jordan's hitting the ground lightly, shorts hanging low on her hips despite the temperature, brown strands falling over her shoulders.

the crowd has the same reaction as they did before mariah's race, but the murmurs are louder—more curious.

"is that really her?"

"holy shit, i thought she was gone for real."

"time for mariah to retire."

"didn't she quit?"

billie doesn't spare them a glance. her focus is set on the check-in table, steps long and filled with confidence that even had mariah crumbling a little. you watch as she walks toward aiden, who stood behind the table with a clipboard in hand. he looks up, and you swear you see his jaw drop.

"i want a race," she says—no, demands. firm. unrelenting. "the best you've got. can you do that for me?"

aiden stutters, struggling to find his voice as he steps forward. though he was starstruck, he was also very strict on the rules. "i—i'm sorry, we've already got everyone in their assigned heats. there's no—"

"nah, i don't think you heard me," billie brushes him off, shaking her head with a smirk that you always saw when she was getting pissed off. "i want a race."

"yeah, and i said—"

"she's right here, eilish," you cut in, motioning toward mariah, and billie's head turns instantly. the smirk on her face grows into one of excitement, eyes glinting with something you can't quite name.

the brunette scoffs, his eyes widening. "y/n, you can't—"

you eye him. "she's billie fuckin' eilish. go read an article before denying her again."

billie laughs quietly, pushing off the table and walking over to you, stepping between you and mariah, who she doesn't pay any mind. her eyes flick to your lips, biting down on her own before finally looking you in the eyes.

"miss me?" she whispers.

you shrug. "did you win yet?"

her smirk grows. then she gives a shrug of her own and raises her brows. "we'll see."

mariah steps forward just as billie steps back, the two of them now side by side in front of you. their eyes gravitate toward each other, both of them giving the other an obvious once-over before billie speaks.

"mariah moore," she murmurs. "i've heard about you. best racer in town as of now, yeah?"

"yeah," mariah answers quietly. "you must be billie. haven't shown up to a race since 2022, correct?"

the question has no obvious bite, but the tone in which she says it has billie poking the inside of her cheek in frustration, nodding her head instead of saying something stupid.

"hurry up, girls," you interrupt, nodding toward the line as they both look up at you.

"yes, ma'am." they answer.

billie jogs back to her car quickly, jumping in and pulling around to the line, the crowd pulling back and forming a path for her. it's nearly silent now as mariah reverses just behind the line again, the low hum of both engines setting the mood.

tension is high as you step onto the track again, planting your feet firmly onto the small sliver of pavement between both cars.

you look over at billie, who flashes a smirk before turning back to the road, lips lowering into a thin, tight line. once she was focused nobody was able to break her out—not until after she won the race.

then you glance at mariah, who's already staring at the road, gripping her steering wheel tighter than she did when put up against taylor and miles. the last race scared her, you could tell in the way she was so quiet after jumping out of her car earlier—so there was no doubt she was terrified right now.

your eyes flick to the pavement behind them, pulling out your gun and raising your arm, elbow straight. you inhale, exhale.

the gun goes off.

and so do billie and mariah.

billie's challenger jumps forward first in your peripheral, and you turn quickly to see who gets the starting advantage. it's billie, per usual. the adrenaline running through your veins is 20x more strong than it was when you were watching mariah's race. because after not seeing billie race in so long, you're unsure if she still has it.

but you don't lean into the doubt just yet.

mariah's red charger weaves around billie's challenger, taking the curve perfectly and bursting out of it. she doesn't get far. billie kicks her gear lower and speeds past mariah with practiced ease, accelerating quick and drifting on the last curve.

you hold your breath as mariah creeps up on billie, engine revving loud as she tries keeping up with her—but billie's already got the length of a car hood between her. the crowd screams in anticipation, watching as billie bolts through the finish line and slowly comes to a stop.

mariah follows behind her, tires not moving nearly as fast as billie's were. the crowd is speechless, not even hollering coherent words anymore, just babbles of nonsense and excited cheers and squeals.

billie reverses with her head sticking out of her window, a proud grin on her face as she parks just off of the track. she steps out, and you can already feel the smugness radiating off her even from a few feet away.

she walks over to mariah, tapping her shoulder and holding out a hand. "good race," she compliments. "'m'not bad, considering i've been gone since 2022, right?"

you see mariah's expression flip quickly, brows furrowing in frustration as she pushes away from billie and mutters something under her breath.

billie's in front of you before you can even announce the winner—even though it's clear.

"let's try this again," she breathes, taking your hand and bringing it up to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "miss me?"

your hand finds the collar of her shirt, pulling her close, lips mere inches away from hers. "you know i did."

you don't let her get another word out before kissing her. hard. passionate. like you've been waiting for this since the last moment you saw her. because you have. you've been waiting for it so desperately and now you finally get to do it.

her hands find your waist, pulling your hips forward, pressing your body flush against hers as she kisses you back just as passionately, eyes fluttering shut, heart thumping against her chest so loud she's sure you've already heard it.

you pull away abruptly, breathing hard. "let me show you."

billie doesn't miss a beat—and you don't even care about the small, sharp pain in your wrist as she twists it, dragging you toward her car and practically shoving you into the passenger seat.

you swear you hear aiden call after you, but billie's already pressing on the gas and speeding out of the lot without a second thought.

she doesn't drive far from the noise, pulling off to the side directly under a blue streetlight, a ray shining in through the tinted windshield. billie shifts into park, then glances over at you, still breathless.

neither of you say another word. you just climb over the center console and straddle her lap, legs pressed against either of her thighs, hands snaking up her chest and around her neck, squeezing lightly just to hear her gasp.

then you lean forward, lips finding hers, rougher than before—dirtier because you weren't accompanied by a large, judgemental crowd. billie's tongue presses against your lips, asking politely for entrance. you grant it without another thought in your hazy mind, moaning softly against her mouth when you feel her tongue clashing against yours.

her hands slide down your body, squeezing your waist gently. then they move down to your ass, pulling you down against her lap, pulling you closer to her like she wants to morph your bodies into one.

"don't ever fuckin' leave like that again," you growl against her lips, kissing down her jaw, then scattering open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of her neck.

she huffs a laugh, head falling back against the headrest, eyelids fluttering shut as she lets out a small, relaxed breath.

your teeth nip softly at her pulse point, eliciting a pained hiss from between her pretty lips—you soothe the bite with your tongue, sucking gently, the sensation a contrast from the sharp pain just moments ago.

billie brings a hand up to your hair, fingers tangling in the messy strands of your hair. "thought you'd have forgiven me by now."

a scoff escapes your throat at her words, but it dies down into a surprised gasp when she bucks her hips up, something hard pressing against your clothed core. a shiver runs up your spine.

"don't get an attitude with me now, sweetheart."

you roll your eyes, lips pressing back onto her skin, one of your hands snaking down her chest and slipping under the hem of her shirt, fingertips teasing the smooth skin of her stomach. her breath catches noticeably, pulse jumping under your tongue.

"i have every right to have an attitude with you," you grumble, palm finding the cup of her bra and squeezing through the fabric. "i should fucking hate you. i mean, you kissed me and then up and left without another word. a text would've been enough, billie."

billie bucks her hips again, groaning at the pleasure.

"let me make it up to you then," she pants, slapping your ass.

her hand untangles from your hair, sliding down your neck, your chest, your stomach, before eventually snaking down into your little shorts. the damp spot on your panties is enough to make her moan, eyelids fluttering open to meet your eyes as you gasp.

she stares directly into your eyes while stroking your clit through your panties, biting her lip and smiling as she watches your brows furrow in pleasure, hands finding her shoulders, nails digging into her skin even through the fabric of her shirt.

then she slips her fingers past the cotton waistband, fingertips sliding through your soaked folds, running along your dripping slit and slowly pushing in two of them. the moan that escapes your throat is long. loud. like you've been holding it in for her since before you can remember.

your eyes roll back when she scissors her index and middle fingers inside of your cunt, thighs trembling around her lap, nails unrelenting on her shoulders.

"yeah," she coos. "there you go, baby girl. just needed me to fill this greedy pussy of yours for you to shut up, hm?"

billie lets out a moan of her own when you roll your hips forward, pressing down just enough for her to feel it through both the fabric of your pants and her own. she bites her lip, hips bucking up involuntarily as she watches you get off on her fingers.

she inhales sharply. "so tight, too. fuck," she breathes. "been waitin' for me, haven't you?"

you nod mindlessly, jaw falling agape when billie pushes her fingers deeper, thumb finding your clit and pressing down hard. if that wasn't making you see stars, the added pleasure of her lips on your neck definitely was.

"billie, oh my fucking—" you cut yourself off with a guttural moan, hips stuttering against her palm. "god—i—fuck you."

you feel her grin grow against your neck, lips so soft and plump and mind-consuming as she continues kissing you, fucking you. deep. hard. passionate.

"in a minute, doll," she teases. "can't even be patient and wait for my cock. so fuckin' greedy." she murmurs, kissing her teeth.

a low whine of frustration emits from your throat at her teasing, walls clenching around her fingers as you feel your orgasm start to approach quickly. your breathing goes shallow, quick, short breaths falling from between your kiss-swollen lips.

"shit—gonna, oh my god, m'gonna cum!" you whine.

billie huffs. "c'mon, mama. make a mess f'me."

and you do.

with a loud, broken moan, your walls flutter around her fingers and you finally feel the knot snap in your tummy. she slowly works you down from your high, muttering sweet nothings into your neck as she leaves a litter of kisses all over your skin.

her free hand creeps up your chest, fingers wrapping loosely around your neck—casually. like she owns you.

and after this, maybe she will.

"this make up for my absence?" she hums, thumb running along your pulse point, feeling it jump under the pad of her fingers. she presses down, eliciting a gasp from you.

you laugh quietly, but it cuts off into a disappointed moan when billie slips her fingers out of your cunt slowly.

she brings them up to her lips just as you open your eyes, pushing them in, plump lips wrapping around lengthy digits, tongue moving between the crevices and licking off every last remnant of your sweetness.

cold blue eyes never leave yours, eyelids hooded and dark with lust and desperation—and love, above everything.

you bite your lip, already pulling off your shorts and ruined panties, throwing them into the backseat. "m'still mad at you. but i know what'll make it better..."

billie releases her fingers with a 'pop,' a smirk growing on her lips once again. she cocks an eyebrow, tilting her head, eyes finally leaving yours to trail down your half-naked body. her eyes land on your dripping pussy, clit swollen and puffy, arousal leaking down your smooth thighs. she groans.

"yeah, and what's that?" she inquires, hips already moving.

silence. instead, you answer with your hands—fingers undoing the button of her jeans, then pulling down her zipper. you lift yourself slightly, tugging her jeans down until they fall to her ankles.

there's a small damp spot on her boxers, a large bulge prominent in the dark fabric, straining against it. billie whimpers when you cup your hand over the print, hips lifting instinctively at the touch.

she hisses when you squeeze gently, your eyes finally snapping up to hers.

"this—" you squeeze her again. then adding, "—inside of me."

billie nods eagerly, hands leaving your body, moving quickly to pull down the last layer of fabric that was currently denying her access to your core. she could feel the warmth stronger now that her lower half was clad in only her boxers.

you lift your hips again, helping billie tug the fabric down to ankles, joining her jeans. her cock springs up, slapping against her lower stomach softly before standing at attention.

her tip is a light red, leaking profusely with pre-cum that spills down her 9 inch shaft until it reaches the base. she's already such a sticky mess and you've hardly touched her.

it made you giggle.

"looks like you missed me more," you tease, looking at her through your lashes.

billie sighs, nodding again, hands scrambling to find your hips again. she tries pulling you closer, tries to even run the tip of her cock through your slick folds—but your nails dig into her forearms, and she yelps quietly.

"hypocritical much, don't you think?" you giggle again, and billie pouts deeply, hands relaxing on your hips. "patience, baby—remember that?"

you lift yourself higher, positioning your dripping slit directly over billie's tip, and you hear her breath hitch before you even sink down in the slightest. and when you lower yourself, billie lets out a noise you weren't sure she was even capable of.

she whimpers brokenly—high-pitched and already hoarse—as her cock splits you open, stretching you out slowly as you continue to lower yourself until you reach the base.

billie's nails dig crescent-shaped indents into your skin, the pleasure already too overwhelming.

"fuuck," she groans, dragging it out. her head falls back against the headrest, eyes squeezed shut. "you—fuck—have you, mmh, always been this t-tight?"

you moan softly when you feel billie buck her hips up again, her tip kissing your cervix. she gasps at the feeling, cock twitching between your gummy, warm walls.

her mind goes blank.

you stay in the position for a moment longer, trying to adjust to her size. your hands wrap around her neck, nails scratching along her skin and sending a shiver down her spine. the feeling of your breath so hot on her lips has her in a trance she's not sure she'll be able to break out of.

billie leans forward to capture your lips in a needy, sloppy kiss just as you start to move, hips lifting until all that was left inside of you was her tip—then slamming back down. hard. desperate.

both of your moans are muffled against each other's mouths, lips parting. you sneak your tongue into her mouth, tasting her—and she falls apart even further underneath you, fingers twitching at your sides.

your hands slide across her neck, hips grinding fast, hard, just right for the both of you—billie squeals into your mouth when she feels you clench around her.

"baby, fuck," she grunts, grabbing onto your hips tighter and thrusting her hips up, pushing her cock deeper. "missed you, missed you so—god, i missed you so much. c-couldn't stop thinkin' about you."

a moan passes by your lips when you pull away. "yeah? touched yourself to—shit—to me?"

billie nods frantically, brows knitting together and jaw falling lower. her hips stutter—a clear sign of her impending orgasm. but you don't stop. don't even pull away or slow down in the slightest.

you needed it. needed to feel her cum inside of you.

the windows fog around you, and now the blue shine from the streetlight is hazy, different shades of blues spilling in through the windshield and onto your bodies and faces. you can feel the car shaking beneath you two.

but it only urges you to keep going.

harder.

faster.

billie mewls quietly, struggling to hold herself together. "holy shit—baby. baby, baby, m'gonna cum! can't hold—fuck, i can't hold it, i—"

"cum, bil," you moan. loud. breathy. "want it—need it so bad. please, please cum inside me."

the second that jumbled sentence left your mouth, billie let herself go—body trembling, mind short-circuiting. your jaw falls open in a silent moan at the combined pleasure of your own orgasm and the feeling of thick, warm ropes of her cum painting your insides.

billie whimpers beneath your body, nuzzling her head into the crook of your neck like she needs your scent to stay alive.

it's all heat and heavy breathing after that—the windows still fogged, skin still layered with a thin sheen of sweat, loose hairs sticking to your neck and forehead. billie stays with her face in your neck, arms wrapping around your back, your own hands still around her neck.

billie pulls out slowly as not to overstimulate you any further, helping you lift yourself off her lap. you lean over the center console and grab your shorts from the backseat, pulling them on once you're seated in the passenger side.

you watch billie pull up her own boxers and jeans, buttoning and zipping them with trembling fingers, still facing a few of the aftershocks of her orgasm.

and, though she's still spent, billie's the first to talk.

"...do you forgive me now?"

you can't help but giggle—you wonder how she still even remembered the situation you two were in. it slipped your mind the second you sunk down on her cock.

"i think you know the answer to that," you exhale, stroking her damp hair gently.

billie hums, then pulls away from your neck, eyes softer than you'd ever seen—sincere, a little worried. "...yeah, but i wanna hear you say it."

your face changes, features softening once you hear the quiet, shaky tone of her voice. fear swirled in the pools of her ocean blue irises, and it's only then that you realize she really was worried about this the entire time.

taking her face in your hands, you pull her close, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of hers. she bites her lip, an unreadable expression flashing over her features—fear again, maybe. or maybe it's hope. you can't tell.

"i never hated you for leaving, billie," you explain. firm. "it just... scared me. i thought you wouldn't come back, and i almost lost hope—until tonight."

a ghost of a grin curls on billie's lips.

"so, yes, i do forgive you. even if i still think kissing me before leaving without another word was really low of you," you murmur.

billie inhales, exhales. "i know, that—that was stupid of me."

her lips find your cheek, then your forehead. and, finally, your lips. and then she looks at you again. "nationals were just... they were all over the place, and i finally realized that i had some sort of feelings toward you. but i didn't know what they were—"

"—and when you were the first one to come up and hug me after i won, i just—i felt so full of love and adoration and it all just spilled over and—" she pauses. finds her words. "and i kissed you because i felt like it was too early to tell you..."

she trails off, voice going quiet near the end. she looks away for a moment. and when she feels your thumb brush across her cheek, her eyes snap back.

"...to tell you that i loved—that i love you."

your breath catches.

it's not what you expected her to say—far from anything that popped into your mind. but everything you were thinking quickly faded as soon as she said those three little words:

i love you.

words that you'd only hear in teasing tones from drunk guys who came up to you during races, from racers that were still riding high on the adrenaline they got from winning.

but now, hearing it from billie, it felt like your whole world shifted on it's axis.

billie's cheeks flush pink when you don't reply, shifting uncomfortably in her seat and nearly pulling away from your touch—but you pull her back. into a kiss. one that's far more passionate than the ones before. it's filled with something you can't describe with words. something far stronger than love and adoration and admiration.

when you pull away, you're both out of breath.

"i love you, too," you murmur after a beat, eyes never leaving billie's. you wanted her to know that you meant it.

and, by the look on her face, you were almost 100% sure it got through to her. a cheesy smile curled up on her lips, her teeth shining bright even in the dark space of the car. you return the same smile, and billie practically throws her arms around you.

she pulls you as close as she can over the center console, nose nuzzled into your neck, inhaling your scent—and it felt like she was smelling an entire different person. because now there was a weight lifted off her chest and a something new blooming in her heart.

you hold her just as tight, unable to get rid of the stupidly big smile on your face—especially when you feel billie's fingers twitching nervously on your back.

you both just hold each other like that for a few minutes. in silence. but it's not an uncomfortable silence, far from it. it's warm. gentle. filled with shared understanding.

and, suddenly, you forget that she even left in the first place.

tags. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @love4madii @livvydunneness @partyf4vor @chxhir0 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @mybluebossanova @strwberrybils @justtr @greenbttrflyy @billsbaby @bilsova @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @ilomiloblohshh @kittymarrow @meliciousmel13 @jul3esz @rightarion @svelish @eilishssiennaa @eeuni @dragoneyelashart @thinkshespretty @cnnibalize @canthelpit0 @hailwiggly @karaaeilish @bilswifee @drunkinyourbenz @aka-persephone @bitchesbrokenpromises @jayjaywetforbils @slvt4subchratt @cantlandonmyfeet @tezzzzzzzz

[solastarr]

Both Ain’t Shit- Smoke vers.

Smoke Moore x Black Reader

Genre: Smut with plot

Word count: 6.2k+

Summary: You and Smoke have been having a little fling for a while now. But Smoke pushes you too far. And now it’s time to show him you can play the game just as well as him, and remind him who he’s dealing with.

Warnings: cheating if you squint, p in v, fem receiving oral, use of n word, banter, and cussing

Authors notes: i’m so sorry for making yall wait so long for this. This was very long so i think my next few pieces will be short. I have a lot more ideas to come tho! Enjoy!!

He is not my man.

I mean, yeah he be at my place more than his own. He got a designated space in my closet for his clothes, he sometimes gets packages sent to my address, and my neighbors think he’s my husband…

But Elijah Moore is not my man.

And I wasn’t his woman neither.

Or at least that's what we tell everyone…

Me and Smoke wasn’t nothing but a good time to each other at first. The risky nights, flirty texts, and playing house was fun and all at first. But then I fell too deep into our fake fantasy. 

Smoke has everything I want in a man–drive, ambition, quite confidence and he gave me sex that made me forget my own name. Everything I dreamed of, but he didn’t give me the security, honesty, and title of the relationship I wanted. 

I used to care, I used to ask, I used to cry about the women that approached us in public like I was some homewrecker, the days when he would leave and not talk to me, the late nights where he would up and go handle “business” without putting on proper clothes or packing his work bag. And I say this with my chest because I will never again fall for his games. 

He use to gaslight me so well I thought I was going crazy and made up the entire thing. And I tried to leave, put the mess of a relationship behind me but Smoke can make you feel like you the only one, even when you know for a fact you’re not. 

And I always knew, I always knew.

Between the late replies, dirty stares from women I don’t know in shops giving me dirty stares, and the way his phone magically stayed face down every time he came over.

I’d have to be stupid to not know. 

But now?

I play it cool. Smile in his face, moan in his ear, and act like I’m not being used. Because I know I can run game too. He wants to be a player? Bet you I can play dirty too if not dirtier.

Because even when he’s out chasing whatever new girl that caught his eye, he still ends up in my bed. He might go ghost for a day or two, but he always shows back up with that same sorry ass smirk like he ain’t been doing me wrong. But I know I mean something to him because I’m the one he slips up and calls when he’s drunk, the one he trusts with his silence, his stress, his secrets. I’m not stupid—I know I’m not the only one he touches, but I’m the only one that sees Elijah Moore. They might get Smoke, but I get both. And maybe that makes me just as dumb as them, but at least I’m the one he always runs back to. Even if he pretends like he’s just passing through.

 I don’t return the energy to the same extent—not 'cause I’m loyal, but 'cause none of them other dudes make me feel what Smoke do. They don’t got that pull on me. They don’t got that calm but dangerous aura that make your knees weak and pride nonexistent. And I hate that. I hate that I crave the same man that got me second-guessing my worth, but still got the power to fuck me like I’m the only woman in the world. They couldn’t handle me anyway—not like he can. So I let him think he winning… while I lose my damn mind behind closed doors.

But tonight he did something that was a new low.

I should have know something was off when he showed up to my door with flowers.  

Smoke ain’t ever gave me no fucking flowers. He do give orgasms and headaches. He do “You good?” texts at 2 in the morning. But flowers. Roses? Never .But there he was—standing in the doorway like a fever dream—holding roses like that alone could undo months of hurt. They were fresh too, like he’d actually cared enough to stop and pick the best ones for me. The red looked loud against the cool evening light, too loud for a man who whispered lies in a voice so calm it sounded like love.

That was guilt wrapped in a heart shaped box. With a weak ass smirk. 

“What’s this for?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe of my front door with my arms crossed. Staring at him with confusion and surprise in my voice.

He smirked. “ I can’t do something nice for you?” He says dressed in his typical grey suit with a blue tie, with a caring but deceitful look in his eyes.

He walked past me like he owned the place– even though some days he practically lived here. He dropped the roses in the middle of my dining room table like they meant something to me and then found his way back to me by sliding his arm around my waist. I let him. I always let him. Because I deserve some fun out of this too. 

The night started like our normal routine. Dinner. Jokes. Laying in his chest while telling him about my day. He even started talking to me about how he wants to take me on a getaway trip so he can show me the world. Which should have been red flag number two. But again I just wanted to get the most out of him being with me.

The third flag was what got me though. 

I was looking for one of my heels that I had recently broken on accident in hopes I could get a little money out of him for all the problems that come with him. But while I was looking I saw a little velvet box tucked in the bag he packed to spend the night. 

At first, my heart jumped–thinking that maybe something came over him and knocked him into his senses to commit to me. Thinking maybe it was a promise ring or something stupid like that.

But as I got closer I realized how familiar the box looked. When me and Smoke started messing around he gave me a gold anklet as a little keep me in mind gift. And I still wear it to this day because you cant see it under my clothes in public, it makes him pound me into the mattress when he sees while we fucking, and because I thought it was a genuine gift he was giving me because he cared.(you’re a dummy bitch)

Out of curiosity I kneeled down checking my surroundings to make sure he wasn’t about to come help me look for whatever I came in my room for. I opened the box to see the exact anklet that was on my leg. The box has a note attached to it that read, 

“To J.”

“J… Who the fuck is J?” I thought to myself. My blood immediately started to boil. Vision blurring. But I collected myself to steady my hands as I closed the box and zipped his bag right back up with a smirk on my face. This was my green light to start fucking with him.

I walked back into the living room. I didn’t ask no questions. Didn’t start a fight. Didn’t even make a petty remark. I gave him one more night, one last kiss, and last moan. Letting him think everything was sweet. Made it real good too, gave him my all.

Because tomorrow?

I’m getting my lick back.

Next day 

I woke up like I knew nothing.

Played the same role—sweet, soft, and familiar. I kissed him good morning, made him breakfast, even ironed the shirt he accidentally wrinkled from throwing it in his bag.

He was still in bed by the time I was done, shirtless in only his underwear, stretching like he ain’t just spent the whole night with his tongue in me. The sun crept in through the blinds, laying golden ribbons across his broad muscular back. He looked good—too damn good for someone who didn’t deserve me.

I walked past the bedroom doorway with my coffee in hand, making sure to get all his shit together so he could be on his way. I looked like a woman coming down from a long night—curls falling messily from the makeshift bun, nightgown straps slipping off my shoulders from running round the house. But the second I heard his voice, I paused.

“Damn, you just gon’ walk past me like that?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep and fake concern.

“Didn’t know you were still here,” I replied over my shoulder, taking a slow sip from my mug. “Usually you’d be gone by now.”

He chuckled, that lazy one he does when he thinks he’s charming.

“That how we acting today?”

I kept moving, gathering his keys, wallet, phone charger—placing everything neatly by the door.

“I made breakfast. Even ironed your shirt. What else you want?”

“I thought maybe we could chill for a second.”

I glanced over at him, leaving my bed, half-dressed and stretching. Taking his sweet time like he ain’t planning to meet another girl in a few hours. “I’ve got stuff to do. You got places to be and people to see, don’t you?” I tilt my head, all sweet like honey over broken glass.

He raised an eyebrow, trying to read me.

“You good? I just wanted to make sure my girl was alright after last night.” He grinned—half pervert, half innocent—as if the memory of his mouth on me gave him the right to ask.

“I’m great,” I said with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Got what I needed, didn’t I?”

He laughed, low and amused like he thought I was playing. But I wasn’t.

I brushed past him, slow enough to feel his heat, fast enough to pretend it didn’t burn. Before I left the room, I paused.

“Your shirt’s on the couch, still warm. Coffee on the counter, take it to go.”

I walked toward the hallway mirror, pretending to fix a loose curl, but really, I was watching him through the reflection. Watching him fake like he wasn’t confused.

He moved slow, dragging himself out into the hall, “Damn, you rushing me out?”

I turned, still calm. “Not rushing,” I shrugged. “Just... reminding you that you do have somewhere else to be. I mean, don’t you have brunch plans? I know I’m not the only per—I mean, thing you tend to in your day-to-day.” I offered a soft, fake smile

He smirked. “Why you always doin’ that?” he asked, pulling his shirt over his head, voice dipped in charm and guilt like he didn’t know where he stood.

I turned back to the mirror. “Doing what?”

He walked into the hallway like he owned it—coffee in one hand, confusion in the other. “Throwing lil’ jabs like I ain’t been here every night this week.”

I tilted my head, slow. “And yet somehow, still not doing right.”

That shut him up for a second.

“If you got something to say—”

I cut him off with a soft laugh, eyes still on my reflection. “I don’t. Nothing to say. Nothing new, anyway.”

I walked to the door, held it open like a polite hostess.

“I don’t want to stand between you and your business. They seem to be getting impatient.” I nodded toward his phone lighting up again with a text he didn’t bother hiding.

He looked at it, then back at me. “You really on one today, huh?”

I shrugged. “Not really. Just on schedule.”

He stepped onto the porch, shirt tugged, ego bruised, still confused

“You good though?” he asked again, this time softer. Smaller.

I leaned against the doorframe, cool and casual. 

“Always,” I said.

And then I slammed the door in his face.

Later that day

The silence in the apartment after he left was thick. Like the walls were holding their breath, waiting for me to fall apart.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I ran a hot shower, scrubbed him off my skin, and let the steam cleanse every trace of him from my pores. Then I pulled open my closet and picked the one dress I knew would make someone stare too long and think too hard.

It was satin—deep red, the kind of red that doesn’t beg for attention but demands it. It clung in all the right places and slid over my thighs like water. I slipped on gold hoops, sprayed the perfume he used to compliment before he stopped noticing, and glossed my lips.

I needed to get back at Elijah in a way that would make his blood boil. Elijah used to have a friend named Darius that always showed me a little too much attention when me and Elijah would run into him. Compliments that were too attentive, gifts too expensive, and hugs that were intended to be more than friendly. 

Elijah hated it. Hated him.

Then my phone lit up:

Darius: I’m outside.

I smiled to myself, grabbed my bag, and walked to the door with the same grin smoke gives when he’s fucked me over. 

We walked into Club Eden like we’d done it before. Darius had one hand on the small of my back, the other in his pocket, grinning like we go together. I kept my chin high, every step deliberate, the red satin of my dress catching the lights just right. Heads turned, we looked good, and I knew it. But I wasn’t here for the stares. I was searching for one face in the crowd. Just smiling, slow and sweet, as Darius guided me deeper inside the club I knew too well.

Smoke wasn’t hard to spot.

Even in the low-lit haze of Club Eden, he stood out like sin dressed in success. Black slacks tailored to perfection, button-up open just enough to show that gold chain he never took off, and a gold watch to match catching flashes of light as he leaned back, calm and calculating.

And he wasn’t alone.

She sat next to him, legs crossed, laughing because she didn’t know about our twinning anklets. It shimmered around her ankle like a middle finger straight to my face.

I didn’t react. Couldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead, I leaned back against Darius, legs draped over his lap like it was second nature. I smiled, slow and sweet, twirling my straw in my drink as if I wasn’t locked in a silent war with the man across the room.

Smoke’s eyes met mine—dark, unreadable, but I knew that look. His jaw was clenched. His tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek. The girl next to him leaned in to whisper something, and he didn’t flinch, didn’t move. Just kept his gaze on me like I had his whole night wrapped around my finger.

Good.

I tilted my head, let my curls fall over one shoulder, and whispered something in Darius’s ear. Didn’t matter what, I just needed to see Smoke look at me.

He did and I knew I had him right where I wanted him.

“Wanna dance?” I asked Darius, my voice soft but just loud enough. He grinned like he’d been waiting for the invite. “You know I do.”

The second I stood, I felt Elijah’s stare follow every step I took. I didn’t look back. Just led Darius to the dance floor like we owned it. The bass hit heavy, the colorful led lights spun soft, and I let my body move—slow, effortless, sensual. Darius tried to keep up, hands respectful but curious. I didn’t care. I wasn’t dancing with him for him. I was dancing for the man sitting in the corner pretending he didn’t care.

Elijah didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But when I twirled to catch his gaze again—he was gone.

Just like that.

I smirked, satisfied, even as my chest tightened.

“I’ll be right back,” I told Darius, brushing a kiss on his cheek before slipping toward the restroom.

The bathroom was cool and quiet. I touched up my lip gloss, adjusted my dress, and took a deep breath. The game was fun, but it was stressful. And I was starting to feel the heat of it rise to my skin.

I opened the door, and there he was.

Smoke.

Leaning against the wall like. His arms were crossed. His shirt sleeves rolled up just enough to show the tattoos on his forearms, jaw tight, eyes darker than I remembered.

I blinked. “You lost?”

He didn’t smile. “Was about to ask you the same thing.”

I crossed my arms, mirroring him. “Bathroom’s not your usual hangout, is it?”

“I saw you dancing,” he said, voice low and clipped. “Looked like you were real comfortable.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Darius is sweet,” I said, letting the name linger to make sure it burns.

His jaw flexed. “He’s a clown.”

“He’s not you,” I shrugged. “That’s kind of the point.”I look at him with amusement because I know i’m getting under his skin.

“You really brought him here?” he asked, stepping closer. “To my spot?”

“Oh, my bad,” I said with mock concern. “Didn’t realize I needed permission to come to the club. Should I check in next time?”

His tongue dragged across his teeth like he was trying not to snap. “You knew I’d be here.”

I tilted my head. “Did I?”

He scoffed, stepping in just close enough that I could smell his cologne. “You doing all this for what? Huh? To make me jealous?”

I smiled. “Ain’t nobody checkin for you Smoke?”

His hand came up, not touching me—just hovering near my waist like muscle memory. As he towered looking down at me,  “You think I care about Darius? You think I give a fuck about that lame ass nigga?” 

I leaned in, just a breath from his lips. “Well… he was talking real good about having dessert back at my place. So maybe I will leave your “spot”.”I give him a menacing grin.

His whole body tensed.

“You lyin’,” he said, but his voice cracked just enough to expose the panic under the rage.

I laughed. “Am I?”

I stared up at him, not moving. “See, I think you care more than you wanna admit. But I think you should head back to your little date. I wouldn’t want her ankles to get sore waiting on you.”

He flinched. Just a flicker. But I saw it.

“Keep playin’ with me,” he warned, voice almost a whisper. “You forget, I know how to handle you.”

I laughed, low and bitter. “Yeah? If that’s what you want to call your lame ass stroke game.”

His mouth opened—but I started to walk away before he could respond. Because I was definitely lying about his stroke game unfortunately.

“Have fun tonight, Elijah,” I said, brushing past him, the scent of my perfume trailing between us like a dare.

And then I walked away—hips swaying, heels clicking, heart pounding—but head held high.

As the night continued I still felt the heat of Smoke and his date that hes not paying any attention to anymore on me. I continued to dance, flirt, and laugh with Darious to prove that I can play game too. I even let Darious’s hands explore my body a little. Rub my thighs, grip my ass a little while dancing, let his hands run up and down my curves. By the time the lights came on in the club and all the drunks were scrambling out to their rides. I let Darious drive me home. 

The car ride was actually nice. The moon was bright and full, soft R&B music was playing, and the conversation we had was amazing. Darious is a really sweet guy, but I know it would be wrong to drag him into me and Smoke’s mess. Plus I don’t want smoke to kill him…

We made it to my apartment and I knew I wouldn’t have much time until Smoke showed up at my door to interrogate me. Darious wanted to come up, but I knew if he did someone would end up in jail. So I said my goodbyes to Darious and promised him another night out soon as I walked back into my apartment. 

As soon as I walked through the door I took a quick shower, changed into a silk blue night gown with white lace trimming, fluffed my curls, removed my make up and prepped my skin for whatever is going to happen in the next few hours. Lastly I got myself a glass of wine and sat on my couch and read a book as I waited for him. I didn’t know what I was going to say, but I needed to be ready nonetheless.

Not even twenty minutes late I hear a loud banging at my door. Three quick, violent knocks. Like the wood itself owed him an answer. I didn’t rush.

I took my time taking a last sip of wine, stood slowly, let my silk nightgown cling to my hips like it was made to tease. I walked barefoot to the door, cool and collected, like I hadn’t been waiting on this exact moment since I walked out of that damn club.

I opened the door just enough so he could see me. And there he was leaning against the door frame using one of arms for leverage.

Pupils dilated with nothing but anger. Jaw tight. Other hand clenched at his sides trying to contain himself.

“Where that nigga at?”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play with me,” he snarled, stepping inside like this was his home. His head was on a swivel. “You let him fuck you?”

I shut the door. Walked right past his rage and sat on the edge of the couch, crossing my legs with purpose.

“Hello to you too Elijah, come one in?” I stated.

“Answer the question,” he snapped.

I smiled, slow and dangerous. “I don’t have to do shit.”

Smoke stepped closer, his whole body on fire with fury.

“You wasn’t gon’ fuck him.”He looked at me like he was challenging me to give him the wrong answer to send him over the edge. 

“Wanna bet?” I raise an eyebrow and give a deceitful smirk.

He snatched the glass from my hand, set it down with a rough thunk, and stepped between my knees. Boiling with anger waiting for me to say the wrong thing to make him explode.

“Say that shit again.”

I looked up at him, lips parted just slightly.

“I was gon’ let him taste every inch of me… then let him sleep right where you do.”

His hand wrapped around my throat in a flash—tight, hot, possessive.

“You gon’ let another man lay where I sleep?” he growled.

I smiled, the tension around my neck turning me on, breath hitching. “I was gon’ let him do more than that.”

He paused. That’s when I stood up. No fear. Just slow, deliberate grace as I walked past him and down the hall.

“You can keep lookin’ for him if you want,” I said over my shoulder, “but if you was really scared I let that man touch me, you’d be too late. He left already.”

I didn’t wait to see if he followed. I went straight to my bedroom, sat at the vanity, touched up my lip gloss with calm hands. Behind me, I heard heavy footsteps pause in the doorway.

His eyes were all over the room. Searching. Burning.

“You think this shit cute?” he asked, voice gravel-thick. His eyes looked me up and down almost in disgust and jealousy.

I met his gaze in the mirror. “No. I think it’s fair.”

He stepped inside, slower now. Confused. Angry. Hurt. “What the fuck mean by that?”

I turned on the stool and faced him, legs crossed again. My night gown starting to rise a bit up my thighs.

“It means I’ve been waiting on you to choose me, Elijah. Or at least grow a pair and tell me that this bullshit we got going on isn’t going nowhere. But you’d rather keep me close, fuck me, then go back to pretending I don’t exist.”

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. His shoulders dropped like the weight of my words finally registered.

“I’ve given you space, time, silence. I’ve let you spin this thing however you wanted, and I stayed. Quiet. Loyal. Patient. But I’m done beggin’ a “grown-ass” man to act like one.”

Smoke’s jaw flexed. His hands were twitching at his sides like he didn’t know whether to grab me or punch a wall.

“So yeah,” I said softly. “I let him touch me. I let his hands roam a little. Not ‘cause I wanted him. But because I needed you to feel what it’s like to watch the person you believed was yours go play boyfriend to other bitches.”

Smoke’s jaw clenched hard enough to crack bone.

I watched him. Calm on the outside. Heart thudding like a war drum on the inside.

“You really was thinking of letting that nigga touch you?” His voice was low now. Dangerous. “He don’t even know what to do with you.”

I stood up slow, walked toward him like prey that didn’t fear the predator. “He may not know how to handle me,” I said, standing chest to chest. “But at least he acts like he wanted me.”

That landed. Hard. He blinked once—tight, sharp—like the words had cut straight through his ribcage. His hand gripped the back of my neck, and whispered against the shell of my ear.

“I ain’t act like I wanted you, huh? Was that before or after I fucked you outside that club becuase you was letting niggas grind on you and I had you cryin’ and creamin’ on my dick?”

My breath caught.

“Or when I had you bent over your own counter, sayin’ you was mine with a mouth full of my name? Because you like flirting with dudes in front of me. That's not ‘wantin’ you’ either?”

My knees pressed together tight.

“You sayin’ he acted like he wanted you…” he scoffed. “Cool. But did he make you cum in under five minutes on your bedroom floor? Did he eat you ‘til your voice broke because you was hitting up the dudes in your DM’s?”

“Shut up,” I breathed, voice shaking.

“Say it,” he taunted, eyes on fire now. “Tell me he could have touched you like I did. Tell me he could have made you forget your own fuckin’ name. When you go out half naked with your girls and come back with ten new numbers in your phone”

“I—” My chest rose and fell too fast. “He didn’t.”

Smoke’s gaze burned through me.

“I didn’t lose you,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “Even when you out here pretending like I’m the only one fucking up. You ain’t been right by me either.”

My mouth parted, but I didn’t respond.

“You mine,” he said. “Still mine.”

He stepped forward as I kept moving back, until the backs of my knees hit the bed. Still, he hadn’t laid a single hand on me—but I could feel every word on my skin.

“Say it.”

“Say what?”, I give him a confused but intrigued look. 

“You know what the fuck I’m askin’, ma.”

My mouth opened, but he didn’t wait.

He dropped to his knees and pushed me back on to the bed.

“I should make you beg,” he growled. “After that bullshit you pulled tonight.”

“But I missed this pussy…” he muttered, shoving me back onto the bed, hands pushing my nightgown up slow.

He paused. Smirked. “No panties?”

I smiled, real smug. “Why wear ‘em when I knew you was gonna end up on your knees anyway?”

His eyes darkened. Jaw clenched.

Then his mouth was on my clit immediately. Hot, angry, wild.

He licked me like he was punishing me, tongue stiff and fast, nose buried deep like he needed every drop. He groaned when I whimpered. Flattened his tongue against my clit, then flicked it until my hips jerked.

“Say who it belongs to,” he growled against me.

I gasped. “Fuck—”

He sucked my clit hard enough to pull the words out of me.

“Say it.”

“Fuck you Elija–”

He slapped the inside of my thigh. “Try again.” starting like and suck faster. 

I gave in, my climax was near and continued to build, “It’s yours! It’s your pussy!”

His eyes locked on mine, lips shiny and glistening with me. “Damn right.” He licked me slower now, dragging it out, two fingers slipping inside me, curling just right.

My back arched off the bed.

“Louder,” he whispered. “Let the whole fuckin’ building know who got you cryin’ like this.”I whimpered his name, high and cracked, as he tongue-fucked me like he needed it to breathe.

“Had me stressing bout you letting some other dude in here?” he muttered between licks. “In this pussy?”

“Wanted you to feel it,” I moaned. “Wanted you to know—what it felt like.”

“Never again,” he growled. “You mine. You hear me?”

“Then act like it,” I snapped, as I begin grinding against his face. “Act like I’m yours.” I say as I grab the back of his head to push him further in to me. 

He laughed low, filthy. “Oh I’m ‘bout to show you, baby.”

Then he dove back in, no mercy, dragging me through a climax so hard I shook, hands fisting the sheets, moaning his name like a prayer and a curse all in one.

My thighs were still shaking when he stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like he’d just devoured something messy and rare.

He looked down at me—lips glistening, chest rising and falling, jaw tight with hunger.

“You talk too much,” he muttered.

“I was making a point.” I snap back, out of breath.

He grabbed my waist, flipped me over onto my stomach like I weighed nothing.

“Yeah?” His voice dropped. “Make it now.”

I didn’t have time to speak—he yanked my hips back, arching my ass high in the air, pressing my face down into the mattress with one heavy hand on the back of my neck.

“Say that shit again,” he hissed into my ear, breath hot. “Say how he acted like he wanted you.”

“Elijah—”

“Mm-mm.” He pressed harder on my neck, not enough to hurt, but enough to let me know who was in control. “You wanted Daddy’s attention?”

He lined himself up, thick and heavy against my soaked entrance. His other hand gripped my ass, spreading me open.

“Well, you got it now.”

And then—he thrust inside me, deep and fast. No hesitation. No gentleness. Just raw, angry, need.

“Fuck!” I try to muffle my moan as I pushed my face into the mattress.

“Nah, don’t get shy now,” he growled, snapping his hips against me again, again. “You was runnin’ your mouth a minute ago. Where all that shit talk go?”

The slapping of skin echoed through the room, loud and wet. His hips slammed into mine, balls smacking against my clit with each brutal stroke. The bedframe creaked under the force, the mattress giving under the weight of his big, muscular body.

Smoke’s build was all lean muscle and hard edges—wide back, thick arms caging me in as he pounded into me from behind, I could feel the tension radiating off him.

“You wanted to make me jealous? You wanted me mad?” he breathed, chest pressing into my back. “Well, now you got me.”

He drove deeper, grunting, hips rolling in filthy rhythm. “This what you wanted, huh? Daddy stretchin’ you out like this? Say it.”

I whimpered, arching into him, my ass bouncing back against his thrusts.

“Say it.”

“It’s what I wanted,” I moaned into the pillow. “I wanted you—fuck—I needed you.”

He leaned in closer, biting the curve of my shoulder.

“You mine, baby. You don’t gotta play games for me to see you. You all I ever see.”

He fucked me harder then, no mercy. My pussy clenching around him, trying to keep him in with every stroke.

“Look at this pussy suckin’ me in,” he growled, voice thick with possessiveness. “You act up just to get it like this, don’t you?”

His palm came down on my ass, the sting making me cry out.

“You love it when I fuck you back into your place, huh?.”

I could barely respond, the way he was hitting made my thoughts scatter like dust. All I could do was moan and take it.

“You gon’ behave now?” he asked, yanking my hair so I lifted my face off the pillow. “Or you need another round?”

“Give it to me,” I panted. “I can take it.”

That did something to him. His next thrust knocked the wind outta me.

“You do all this talkin’, just to shut the fuck up when this dick in you. That’s your problem.”

The pace got even filthier—fast, relentless, dragging sounds out of both of us that had no place outside of a bedroom.

The air was thick with heat and sweat and desperation.

“Say you mine again,” he ordered, breath ragged. “Say it like you mean it.”

“I’m—fuck— i’m yours, Daddy.”

That sent him over. He slammed into me one last time, deep and hard, filling me up with a loud groan that vibrated against my spine.

I followed right after, walls pulsing around him, toes curling, throat raw from moaning his name.

We collapsed together, breathless and shaking, tangled in the mess we made.

He was still catching his breath, eyes fluttered shut, mouth open like he was trying to gather himself.

I sat there for a second, letting the weight of what just happened settle between us. Sweat slicked my skin, my curls wild and frizzy from all the grinding and grabbing and all that heat. My chest heaved. I watched his body twitch—sensitive, eyes closed, overwhelmed, but still so hard for me.

He didn’t even notice me move.

Until I straddled him again. Hovered over him, lined us up—

And slammed down on his dick.

“Shit—!” he yelped, eyes snapping open like I’d snatched his soul. “Wait—wait—baby—”

I bounce on him hard, grinning down at him like a beast that finally caught its prey.

“You good?” I asked sweetly, breathless.

He gasped barely able to make a sound. “Damn, girl—”

“Thought so.”

I started to move. Slow at first. Just enough to hit him right. His whole body tensed, trying to brace, but he couldn’t. He was too sensitive, and I was overriding his nerves.

“I’m tired of bullshit, Elijah. I want to settle down,” I reminded him, voice low, sultry, taunting. “You going to be better for me, baby?”

“I—I am,” he stammered, jaw tight. “I am, baby—I swear—”

I sped up.

That had him groaning, loud and full in his chest. His hands shot to my thighs, gripping, begging me to slow down—and I didn’t.

“You gon’ answer when I call?” I asked, breath hitching from how deep he was hitting. “No more games?”

“Yes! I got you, baby, just don’t—don’t stop—”

I moved faster.

“Say it again,” I demanded, hips rolling harder, rougher. “Louder.”

“I’m gon’ do right! I swear to God, I’m—fuck—”

He tried to hold my hips, tried to make it last, but he couldn’t keep up. He was shaking, whining, and I loved every second of it.

But so did I.

Every stroke had my moans cracking, turning breathy and sharp, like I was losing the same control I held over him. I started to tremble too, thighs quaking, chest heaving. He was hitting that spot, again and again—stretching me just right.

My hands landed on his chest to steady myself, nails digging in. “You better,” I gasped, voice splintering. “You better fucking do right by me.”

“I will—I swear—baby, please—”

I felt it creeping up on me—my legs tightening, the heat coiling in my belly. “Oh my God—Elijah—”

“Come for me,” he begged, hips bucking under me. “Let go, baby. I got you.”

That did it. I shattered around him with a loud, raw cry, my walls clenching hard, dragging his name out like a prayer. My body folded forward as I pulsed around him, riding every wave, every tremor, until my whole frame shook.

His voice broke under me, hands locking around my hips like he never wanted me to move again. “That’s it, baby… fuck, that’s it.”

Breathless, dazed, I slumped against his chest, heart pounding, sweat glistening on my skin.

“I’m sorry,” I moaned against his neck. “I know I ain’t been fair either.”

His hands slid up my back, holding me tighter.

“I ain’t mean to hurt you,” I whispered. “I just needed to feel wanted too.”

“You got me, ma,” he said hoarsely. “You been had me.”

“I don’t wanna fight no more,” I breathed. “But you gotta do better.”

“I will,” he promised, kissing the side of my face. “You got my word.”

We laid there tangled in silence, both of us wrecked and breathless

~ I hope you liked it! Also send me some asks if you have a request, question, or fic ideas!!

click here to send an ask!!

sola💫

Taglist: @bxunyx @keenkittyconnoisseur @yana3sworld @thefutureemmywinner @roughridah0 @iiiheartfayee @margepimpson @cocooned-butterfly @sajoi @jackierose902109 @wingedpeachjudgegiant @liloswayy @sharpaysbestfriend @cosmicautomatonshark @ivoryyythesimp @dezzy154 @christinabae @doradaexplorher @mikaelsonharem7

[rafeslvbug]

Will u be able to write something where singlemom!reader takes her baby to to their 6 month check up an rafe is the one giving the baby their shots

it’d be early dating, so when you walk in there would be suppressed smiles, turning your wandering eyes towards aurora to try and distract themselves from each other.

but for rafe looking at her would really only make him smile wider, because he gets to experience this outside of work too.

he’s extra careful, like messing up could make you break up with him there and then

internally panics when she looks on the verge of tears, water bubbling at her eyes but he’d crouch down to her level on the bed, cooing at her softly until the sight of him made her giggle (or maybe it’s the lollipop in his hand)

“hey, hey? no tears aurora, you’ll get it all over your lollipop!”

aurora always smiles when she sees rafe - like she’s always known he’s her dad

your heart would flutter at the sight of it, because you know what he’s doing, and you know how meticulous he’s been today. he isn’t as slick as he thinks.

but nonetheless, it only solidifies the thought in your mind, that rafe is perfect.

when he hands her back to you, his hands linger on your arms for more than they should, soft smiles between you, knowing smiles.

he means to tell you to call if anything unexpected happens with aurora instead he just murmurs, “call, alright?”

and you know he means that he just wants to talk to you. whenever. about anything.

you’d probably be halfway towards the doors out of the ward, until he’s jogging to catch up to you, under the guise that he “forgot to tell you something.”

or at least that’s what he’d tell the nurses when they give him suspecting glances afterwards

really it was just to dip his head down so his mouth was by your ear, speaking quietly enough that no nosy mothers would hear him when he said “i love you, by the way.”

it’d leave you blushing walking out the hospital and him with the largest grin as he spun back around on his heel and walked back to his office.

taglist: @starkeyjoseph @rafesbabygirlx @slut-4-rafey @lanaslushworld @littlelamy @rain-likes-purple @sunny1616 @csturnioloswifey @silkylovey @mak1777

[gracie-eilish]

could u do 10, 16, 20 billie w a strap talking reader through it🙏 and if u could make billie be soft and gentle with reader, checking in with them during and after

10. spread em wider f’me

16. you like that?

20. feels better when a girl does it, huh?

smut

“spread em wider f’me, sweet girl.” billie coaxed your thighs apart softly with one hand, rubbing circles on your hips helping you breathe.

“just relax mama, doing so good for me.” she trailed kisses from your jaw to your collarbone, leaving you a gasping, panting mess.

“gonna stretch you out a bit first, yeah? don’t want to hurt my princess.” you nodded shakily.

“you sure your okay? your hearts racing so fast i can hear it bub,” she removed her hand from between your legs and brought it to your bare waist, tracing soft shapes on your skin.

“yeah just,” you let out an exhale. “just nervous.”

“what are you nervous about love?” she let her body weight down, fully lying on top of you.

“i don’t even know,” you avoided eye contact, picking at your nail. “just wanna be perfect for you. you’re more experienced with girls than me and i don’t wanna mess it up.”

“baby nothing you could do could mess this up. you’re an angel, ya hear me? a perfect angel. all i care about right now it making you feel good, and making you feel comfortable while doing so. please don’t think about being perfect or being correct. just relax into it, let me make you feel good.” she pressed warm kisses to your jawline making your breath hitch.

you nodded, only to be met with a stern look.

“words, baby.”

“okay. i’m ready, i promise.”

“good girl.” her kisses trailed from your neck to your collarbone, stopping at your breasts. she kissed each one before diving in, letting her tongue circle and roll the soft bud. you let your head fall back completely while she worked her magic on your tits.

she switched, letting her free hand massage the other one, rolling your nipple, squishing the fat.

you let out a breathy barely there moan, cutting yourself off awkwardly.

“no no no baby, wanna hear you. wanna hear your pretty little noises, yeah? no holding back with me.” she smirked when you nodded again, too blissed out to speak.

“ok sweetheart, i’m gonna stretch you out a bit now, is that okay?”

“yeah billie, just please,”

“shh mama, don’t worry. i’ll make you feel real good so soon.” you moaned our at her words, making billie giggle and kiss your cheek.

her fingers found your puffy clit, swollen between your slick folds. she swiped her fingers up and down a few times, circling the bundle of nerves before collecting your wetness on her fingers.

making eye contact with you, she slipped her pointer finger in slowly, inching in knuckle by knuckle, only moving when you would give her the okay.

“baby can you breathe for me?” she noticed you were holding your breath, your sternum raised slightly. she placed her free hand between your breasts as you exhaled, bringing in a new breath slowly.

“good girl, keep breathing for me.”

she slowly began to thrust her finger in a few times, testing the waters.

“billie oh, bils i,”

“you like that?” she smirked into your cheek, leaving a few kisses.

“yess! oh my god,” your moans began to quicken, rising in pitch as you felt billie insert another finger.

“still okay doll?” you nodded furiously making her chuckle.

you could feel the heat in your tummy growing but leaving quicker than it came as billie removed her fingers from your heat.

“you ready for big mama?” she pinched your side teasingly.

“yeah just.. just be gentle please.”

“i wouldn’t dream of anything else.” she kissed you softly, winking before heading over to her dresser, pulling out her strap.

you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching her fasten the strap with ease. though you paid more attention to the way her back tattoo moved with her muscles.. and her biceps flexing as she moved the harness to a comfy spot, and god her skin looked so soft-

“baby? hellooo??” she was waving a hand in front of your face.

“see something you like mama?” she teased, watching your face turn bright red.

“okay honey. i’m sure you remember from you stupid ex boyfriends,” you giggled at her teasing jealousy. “it might hurt a bit at first. you tell me if it’s too much and we’ll stop, okay? you are in complete control of this.”

“okay bils,” you confirmed with a soft smile.

“lay down for me angel,” she whispered, coaxing you to lay back, letting your arms rest at your sides.

“spread your pretty legs for me sexy,” she whispered into your ear. she turned up the flirting knowing it got you more wet, watching your cheeks flush even deeper.

you spread your legs further for her, grabbing her free hand as she started to line herself up.

“you okay?” she froze.

“yeah, yeah i’m okay. just.. hold my hand.” billie could cry. she kissed your knuckles, intertwining your fingers.

once your breathing had slowed a bit, she pushed just the tip in stopping when you winced a bit.

“shhhhh, relax babygirl. you’re okay, just relax for me.” you started to try to match your breathing with hers, watching her chest rise and fall. she kissed your forehead before pushing a little further in.

your wince started to morph to a moan, but she didn’t wanna push it yet.

“can i kiss you, doll?” you blushed and nodded.

billie leaned down, kissing you the way a fairytale prince would kiss awake their sleeping princess. soft, and delicate, and loving. you squeezed her hand while wrapping your free arm around her neck pulling her closer.

“bils, faster..”

“yeah? you ready for more?”

“fuck, please more,” your desperation was adorable to her. she kissed your temple before speeding up her movements.

“ohhh fuck baby,”

“feels better when a girl does it, huh?” she smirked, watching your face contort in pleasure.

“yeah!!” your moans were high pitched and whiney leaving billie feeling more smug than ever.

your breathing started to quicken signaling you were close. billie picked up the pace, thrusting faster and harder. the headboard began to creak and the sound of skin smacking filled the air.

“billie im gonna, bils please im,”

“i know baby, i know. let it happen.” she grabbed your thigh pulling it around her waist, letting you lock your ankles around her back as your brought your other leg around to meet it.

you started to grind yourself against her, making her look up at you with wide, cocky eyes.

“look at you sweet girl. where’d my little innocent angel go, hm? what happened to her?” she couldn’t stop her smirk from widening when she saw the faintest smile creep upon your lips, stopping when you bit down on your bottom lip.

“keep going sexy, make yourself feel good.”

you matched your grinding to your thrusts, leaving both of you panting into each others mouths, forgetting how to kiss.

“so close bils,”

“i know, fuck, me too,”

you reached your free hand up to palm at her full breasts, rolling her nipple in your fingers, making her drop her head to your shoulder. she snuck her own free hand between your legs, rubbing tight circles on your clit.

your climaxes hit together, both of you furiously touching and thrusting and squeezing and grinding…

billie squeezed your hand three times when you finally came down from her highs. not letting go. she kissed your knuckles after your squeezed back. both of you breathless, smiling…

and so fucking in love.

an: i present, a smut fic im actually pretty kinda sorta maybe proud of🤭🥹 i am bummed tho that im not having sex with billie rn. sorry ignore that last bit of text, it won’t let me delete it for some reason lol!!🤪👀🤭

[webslinger-holland]

okay I love bucky and all the boys honestly so can you write one where they get a goodnight kiss for the first time? love your writing btw!

Prompt: Bucky, John, and Bob receive a goodnight kiss

Warning: the implication of wanting to stay the night ;)

It had been a long night; the gala ended up lasting way longer than anticipated. The Thunderbolts were being honored by Valentina, which was just another way for her to get good public press shots. Since it was hosted by her, that meant the guests of honor had to stay the whole time.

By the time the night was over, all of them were beyond exhausted and ready for a quiet night in the hotel room she'd booked for each of them. It was nice when he offered to walk you back to your room, even after spending many hours chatting and drinking together.

Bucky:

Walking side by side through the quiet hotel hallway, you carried your heels in hand. He kept his hands deep in his pockets; his eyes trained on the patterned carpet below and counting the steps until reaching your hotel room.

Coming to a slow stop, you paused for a second in front of your door. You turned to face him, rocking on the heels of your feet and clutching the room key tightly.

"You know..." Bucky tried to make it sound as casual as possible. He scratched the back of his neck and avoided eye contact at first. "We don't have to say goodnight to each other tonight."

A smile crept onto your lips at the proposal. "Enjoy my company that much, huh?"

"More than you know," Bucky spoke so softly, it nearly melted your heart right there.

Your eyes searched his as if trying to read him like a book. Instead of answering, you reached up and hooked two fingers into the front of his shirt collar — that small space between his open jacket and the buttons underneath.

You tugged gently, drawing him closer. His breath hitched when he realized.

And then your lips found his. One kiss that felt heavier than all the things he’d wanted to say. His hands found your waist automatically, like they belonged there and planned on staying there. Your fingers didn’t let go until it ended.

When you did pull back slowly, you looked up at him with an unreadable expression. Your fingers brushing down the front of his jacket. He leaned forward to chase your lips, but your hand stopped him.

“I’m going to bed,” you told him before he was able to take it a step further.

“I could—” Bucky began.

“Alone.” You smiled because Bucky looked only slightly disappointed.

"Right," Bucky nodded. He took a step back to give you space, shoving his hands back down into his pockets.

“But thank you for walking me.” You patted his chest twice and then headed into your hotel room for the night, knowing that you were leaving him wanting more.

John:

Coming up to your room, the laughter slowly began to die out. It was the kind of shared laugher that felt similar to a post-adrenaline high where everything felt lighter than it should. Shoulders brushed together teasingly.

John stopped short. He ran a hand through his hair and —for some reason— looked more nervous than his usual cocky and confident self. He kept gesturing with his hands, trying to sound casual.

“I mean… I could come in,” John suggested, fast and casual, like it wasn’t a big deal to him. He even shrugged. “Not for anything, just like—talk. I don’t often fall asleep right away and you—uh…”

He only stopped talking when he saw the amused look on your face. He narrowed his eyes at you as if trying to figure out what was going on in that head of yours.

"What?" John smiled. You shrugged.

“You’re cute when you do that,” you confessed.

“Do what?” John swallowed, shifting from one foot to another like a nervous schoolboy.

You took a step forward and slipped your fingers into his tie — right near the knot. His words died in his throat and he swallowed hard again.

“Talk like you’re not sure if I want you here.”

You gave the tie a slow tug — just enough to make him lean down to meet you. He didn’t resist. His lips parted like he might say something — but you kissed him before he could.

His hands came up like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you. But he did. Just you waist. Just enough for him.

It was unhurried and surprisingly soft for how much heat had built up between you. Your fingers stayed curled in his tie even as you drew away from him.

He stared down at you like you just handed him the world in the palm of your hand. You watched the way his eyes darted back down to your lips like he wanted another taste and he even dared ask.

“So, uh… does that mean—” John wondered.

“Goodnight, John.” You stepped away.

“Right. Right. Yeah. That.” John ran his palm over his mouth and down his beard. The door closed in his face and left him more flustered than he'd care to admit.

Bob:

The walk back to the hotel had been quiet for the most part. The air heavy with things neither had said out loud. He particularly had been quiet since the gala ended — not brooding, just stuck in thought. His shoulder brushed yours more than once. And you once caught him staring at you.

The two of you came to a slow stop in front of your hotel door. You fished your hotel card out of your clutch purse, holding it up for him to see. He sent you a tight lined smile.

"Well, this is me." You motioned to the door right behind you and Bob nodded without making eye contact with you. "I really enjoyed tonight," you tried to catch his eye.

"Yeah?" Bob glanced up, somewhat surprised. He smiled in recollection. "Me too."

You turned to scan your card against the reader, but Bob —with a sudden burst of courage— stopped you in your tracks.

“You don’t have to go in yet,” Bob said gently, drawing your attention back to him.

"No?" You quirked an eyebrow curiously.

“Y—You could come back to mine,” Bob almost couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. The moment he saw the look of surprise on your face, he quickly backtracked with: “Only if you want. I’m not—”

You smiled reassuringly and he looked so hopeful. Not expectant. Not pushy. Just hopeful.

He kept talking. And saw the way you moved closer to him.

"We could watch a movie, eat some snacks, or just talk if you want to." Bob's voice was growing quieter the closer you got to him. His eyes searching your face for some kind of sign of interest.

"Just talk?" You teased a little.

"Yeah," Bob squeaked, though he didn't mean to. He coughed and cleared his throat a little, shrugging it off like it was nothing. "Or any of the other things."

"Very tempting," You nodded.

"Yeah?" Bob looked up.

You were close enough to him now. You reached out to lay your hand flat against his chest, slowly dragging it up, and snaking it behind his neck. You pulled him down until your lips met his in a slow and deliberate kiss. He melted into it like he’d been holding his breath all night.

Your other hand moved to grab the lapel of his jacket— not to pull him any closer, but just to stay grounded. His hands hovered at the spot right above your waist, too fearful to place his hands there.

The kiss was warm, sweet, and slow. And he savored every second of it.

When you pulled away, you dragged both hands down the front of his chest to smooth his jacket flat again like you hadn’t just stolen all the air from his lungs. He watched your movements with hopeful eyes.

"I'm gonna have to pass tonight," you told him.

"Okay," Bob nodded. Not mad at all. Very understanding.

"But only because I like you too much to rush this," you confessed while you ran your hands down the front of his chest before withdrawing them carefully.

"Oh," Bob said mostly to himself, not catching on right away. And then: "Oh."

"Goodnight Bob." You smiled cheekily and slipped away before he had a chance to say anything else. The door closed with a soft click.

“Right,” Bob whispered. “Yeah. Goodnight.”

SEND IN MORE HEADCANONS! I LOVE WRITING THESE

[jellysmosh]

Better to Leave it Unsaid

Summary: You were a certified yapper, always chatting with anyone and everyone around the Smoffice. Everyone except for one person. Inspired by the song Talk Too Much by COIN.

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x GN!Reader

Tags: Fluff, mutual pining, extremely light angst if you squint

Word count: 6.1k

Note: This is a huge one! I didn't mean to make this so long, but I just kept going lol… I decided to post the whole thing rather than separate it and make y’all wait for a part 2, hehe. I take a lot of inspiration from music, if you couldn’t tell. Please enjoy~!

☆

You had always been talkative, a chatterbox, and a yapper. Your mother used to tell people that when you were a baby, you learned how to speak in full sentences before you learned how to stand on your own two feet. You couldn’t help it, you just loved to talk. It took you years to learn how to think before you speak.

You enjoyed talking to people, it genuinely made you happy to learn about others and share your thoughts. It was a form of connection, whether it was a late night heart-to-heart with your best friend or joking around with a stranger in line at the supermarket. If you could list ‘conversations’ as an interest on your resume, you absolutely would.

This trait worked to your advantage when you joined Smosh as a cast member.

“You’re so good at talking”, Ian joked with you after your first month, “you always seem to know what to say.”

“Practice makes perfect”, you grinned back as he laughed again.

You had quickly become a fan favourite, especially on Reddit Stories and as a guest on Smosh Mouth, being praised for the chemistry you had with the cast members and how you played off each other in discussions. You struggled a bit more on the games channel, you had very little video games experience and you found it difficult to remember board game rules when you played them for the first time. But the subscribers seemed to love making video compilations of everytime you forgot a rule or had to quietly ask for help mid-game.

Working at Smosh was so much fun, not just because you loved your work, but because there was such a diverse and interesting group of people you had long and frequent talks with. You had gotten to know everyone so well throughout the past few months, both cast and crew.

Well.

Everyone except for Spencer.

When you joined Smosh and met all the people working there, you had taken to Spencer in a different way than the others.

The crush you developed on him was quick and severe. You had no idea what to do with it. You were never good with romantic attraction, the few times you made the first move with a potential partner, it always ended disastrously. When it came to someone you really liked, you clammed up. Every time you were around Spencer, you panicked, and your heart sped up when he spoke to you. All the words that normally flowed out of your mouth got all tangled up in your head and stuck in your throat. Even when you two were doing your jobs and he was directing you on a game video, you responded to his directions with a silent, tight-lipped smile without making eye contact.

You did not handle cute guys well. And Spencer was cute. With his big green eyes, cheeky smile, and quick-witted humour, he was exactly your type to a T. It infuriated you, the person you wanted to have a connection with the most was so distant from you, and it was your own fault. You wanted to be close with him like everyone else, having lunch together, hanging out after work, you wanted it all. He definitely noticed how weird you were about him, because he drew back, hardly ever reaching out to you and only speaking to you when absolutely necessary. You couldn’t blame him.

The invisible wall between you guys that you had accidentally built seemed to get taller by the day, and you wished there was some way to knock it down.

☆

“Cut!”

That was a wrap on the most recent Board AF video and it was finally lunchtime. You and the other cast members hopped up from your seats as the room was filled with post-recording chatters.

“Good job, guys!” Spencer clapped his hands, “Amanda and Chanse, that was amazing teamwork. Shayne, super funny, as per usual.” He was wearing his green Smosh merch cap and a white T-shirt today. God, he looked so good.

You pretended not to notice he praised everyone else in the video besides you.

“And great banter, Y/N”, he added before turning to Alex to debrief.

Nevermind. You almost skipped out of the room from the high you got from him complimenting you.

You could really enjoy your lunch break after that. Sitting down between Angela and Amanda, you dug right in, conversing with the others at the table as you did everyday.

“I was watching the shoot just then, you know?” Angela nudged you, speaking between bites, “what’s up with you and Spence?”

You almost bit down on your tongue in surprise.

“What?” You laughed to cover the worried feeling that rose inside you, “what do you mean?”

“You know what I mean”, she spoke quietly, this was between you two. The rest of the table were not paying attention, holding their own conversation about the schedule for the rest of the week. “You, like, don’t look directly at him and you just silently do what he says. No reply, nothing.”

“I didn’t think I had to reply to every direction given”, you shot back, eyes on your food. You were dreading where this situation was heading.

“Okay, okay, no offence”, Angela lay a hand on your leg, eyebrows raised so high it made you laugh, “I have never seen you skip an opportunity to say something.” When she saw your jaw drop, she quickly added, “I’m saying this as a fellow yapper, okay? It takes one to know one. You seem to talk non-stop to anyone until it’s with Spencer, then you shut right up. Are you mad at him? Did he do something to piss you off?”

You sighed and put your fork down.

“No, Angela”, you both leaned back in your chairs, facing each other, “I’m not mad at him, he did nothing wrong.”

“Then?”

“I-”, you quickly glanced around you, checking nobody was paying attention to you two, “I don’t know. Like, I just can’t talk to him.”

“But why?” Angela had her hands out inquisitively, like this was a great mystery she had been thinking about for a long time. “How are you not able to talk to somebody? You start chattering when you hear someone enter the stall next to you in the bathroom. It’s disturbing. Nothing stops you.”

“I don’t know”, you were a lying liar. You knew damn well why you struggled to speak to him. “I just can’t!”

She eyed you suspiciously. She was squinting at you so hard, you resisted the urge to ask if she needed her glasses. This was one of the rare times you actually wanted a conversation to end as soon as possible.

“Right”, she finally conceded, a strange expression on her face, “totally. Yeah. You just don’t know.”

You nodded, smiling like nothing was bothering you. You could tell she wasn’t satisfied with your response but you were just glad she wasn’t pushing it anymore. She was very empathetic, so she could probably feel you were getting uncomfortable.

“Anyway”, she shook her head, poking you gently as she changed the topic, “what are you scheduled for tomorrow morning?”

☆

“And then I told him that I didn’t know where his wallet was and that I was sorry”, you explained, hands gesturing wildly.

“I mean, yeah”, Tommy responded while nodding, “you literally met him five minutes before, how were you meant to know?”

You were telling him a story about some guy you befriended at a bar a while ago when you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You spun around to see Spencer standing there, holding his laptop. You didn’t even hear him approaching while you were talking, how long had he been there?

“Hello”, he waved, you silently waved back and Tommy replied with his own ‘hello’. “I didn’t want to interrupt, but I need to speak to Y/N about an upcoming video. Sorry, Tommy.”

“No problem, don’t worry about it”, Tommy replied before heading back to his desk, “see you guys later.”

You wanted to yell for him to come back so you wouldn’t be alone with Spencer, but you were left with no choice but to quietly follow Spencer to the games set. He was going to quickly go through how to play a new board game you were set to play with a few of your cast mates because your schedules didn’t line up and you couldn’t be there when he taught the others.

“Okay”, he sighed, plopping down on the large grey couch. “Please sit down”, he nodded his head at the space next to him.

You carefully sat a respectable distance away from him, close enough to properly listen to him but far enough to not get you flustered. As he began to teach you the rules and show you the different cards, you tried your hardest to focus. He made it so difficult, he just looked so gorgeous. His curls were sitting just right today, one stray strand dangling down his forehead, and he was wearing that Creed shirt he always looked good in. His glasses slowly slipped down his nose when he leaned down and you bit your tongue as he adjusted them. You were trying to remember what each card did in the game, but your thoughts kept going back to how nice his voice sounded. He didn’t speak too fast and he kept the volume low since it was just you two sitting on the set, it tickled something in your brain.

“Y/N? Y/N!” His voice calling your name drew you out of your own thoughts.

A single ‘huh?’ was your clever response.

He sighed, seemingly a little frustrated.

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Yes”, you responded defensively, vaguely repeating some of the main points you managed to retain from when he was talking.

“Okay”, he nodded, “you did remember a few things. Sorta.”

He picked up the deck of cards and slid them back into their box as you silently watched his fingers work.

“Any questions?”

You looked up at his face to see him looking back at you with his eyebrows raised in question.

“Uh… no”, you flatly replied. You could feel your face and neck gradually get warmer the longer he looked at you.

“No? Any comments? Anything at all?”

You shook your head. Hopefully, this interaction would be ending soon before something devastating happened, like him noticing how red your face was or how clammy your hands were. You looked away and your eyes darted around the set. You didn’t like being speechless, it was an uncomfortable feeling for you.

“Y/N”, he gently pressed. You froze in place, eyes glued to the small table in front of you. “Why…”, he trailed off, not finishing his question before he stood up, “uh, nevermind. We’re done here, I guess. See you around.”

And then he was gone.

You felt relief and anxiety mix together at the bottom of your stomach. You wanted to talk to him so bad but you were so in your own head about him, about your feelings for him. In another world, where you could get over your feelings for him, you could be best friends. You could be talking all day long, asking about each other's days, how your families were going, what your weekend plans were.

Instead, right now, you were the only person in the room, left sitting alone on an empty set.

☆

“What is their problem?” Spencer grumbled, partly to himself, partly to Alex and Shayne, interrupting the conversation they were having right next to Spencer’s desk. They both turned to look down at him, borderline sulking in his chair.

“Y/N?” Shayne hit the nail on the head immediately. Spencer didn’t often talk about his strained relationship with you, but the few times he did have been with these two in particular.

“Yeah”, he lifted his glasses to rub his eyes, “I just met with them to explain the new game we’re playing tomorrow.”

“Awkward?” Alex grinned.

“So awkward”, Spencer threw his hands up, “I really don’t get it! They just refuse to say anything to be besides ‘yes’, ‘no’, and ‘huh?’”

They could tell Spencer was getting frustrated, not quite angry, moreso confused and unsure on what to do.

“It’s been months since they started”, Shayne crossed his arms, tone neutral, “have they not had a proper conversation with you even once?”

“Never”, Spencer replied, “what about you guys?”

“All the time”, Shayne replied sheepishly.

“Yeah, all the time”, Alex nodded, almost apologetically. “I talked to them this morning about Fortnite for like half an hour. They asked me to explain it to them.”

“You’re kidding me”, Spencer whined, he just could not wrap his head around why you guys just didn’t click. “I would have killed to explain Fortnite to someone for the first time.”

The other two seemed bemused by his turmoil. Spencer feared they may not be taking this seriously. It was serious. Over the past months, he had watched you grow close with other people at Smosh, chatting and bonding so naturally it was as if you had worked there for years. Whenever he saw you, you were always in the middle of a lengthy conversation with someone; you had gained a reputation around the office as an amazing listener who would be easy to talk to for hours. Spencer thought you two could get along great, he was not the most talkative, but he loved to chat and loved to listen. However, Spencer seemed to be the one person in the company that you refused to talk to.

It didn’t help that he thought you were very attractive. It drove him insane, he felt this inexplicable draw to you and yet you avoided even making eye contact with him. Did you find out about his crush on you? Were you grossed out? Was that why you avoided speaking to him? There was no way though, he hadn’t told a single person about how attracted he was to you.

“Look, man”, Shayne gained his attention again, “if it really bothers you, you have to talk to them. They can’t read your mind, they might not even realise they’re doing it.”

That made Spencer laugh, you definitely knew you were doing it.

“Yeah, what Shayne said”, Alex chimed in, “talking to them is going to be a way better approach than sitting on your ass, ripping out your hair trying to solve it.”

“Maybe”, he groaned, turning back to his computer to continue his work, “I’ll think about it.”

Alex and Shayne shared a knowing look before leaving him alone.

☆

The next time you spoke to Spencer alone, he accosted you in the break room.

You were stirring the tea you had just made when you heard footsteps behind you slowly coming to a stop.

Before you could turn around and greet whoever it was, you heard Spencer’s apprehensive voice, “Alex mentioned you were showing an interest in Fortnite.”

You almost dropped your mug, but you managed to keep a firm grip on it as you turned around to face him. You tried to say something but faltered before closing your mouth and nodding. You already knew this was going to be another failed attempt at a conversation. You might as well have run for it then and there.

“Okay, well”, he put his hands in his pockets as he continued, “we could play together sometime? Or I could arrange for us to play on the channel in the future or something.”

You blinked a few times. He was asking to play Fortnite together. You felt so excited, you wanted to chug your tea down like a beer and give him a huge kiss but you controlled your impulses. You were curious about the game because of Spencer talking about it all the time and showing Angela how to play, so you enquired about the game from Alex a few days ago. You saw a chance to get through the invisible wall, conquer your feelings, and really get to know Spencer. You were determined to get over this stupid crush of yours for the sake of befriending him, you were tired of being the only person that didn’t get to enjoy his company.

“That sounds fun”, you managed to blurt out, both you and Spencer seemed shocked that you were actually speaking to him. “I mean, I’m not very experienced with video games, but it looks like a lot of fun”, your voice was quivering from nerves and you just prayed he didn’t notice, “I think all the cosmetics are really cool too.”

“Yes!” Spencer seemed to almost jump at the opportunity to talk to you, “they released a Sabrina Carpenter skin. You like her, don’t you?”

Your heart was going a mile a minute, were you actually managing to talk to him? And how did he know you were a fan of Sabrina Carpenter?

“Yeah, I love her!” You found yourself actually smiling, even though you were resisting the urge to find the nearest escape route like some kind of prey animal, “I didn’t know she had a collaboration with them. I actually just ordered the Short n’ Sweet Deluxe vinyl record I’ve been wanting for ages, it took me, like, an hour to decide which colour to get.”

“And which colour was that?” He asked.

“The blue one”, you quickly replied, “the white pearl one was pretty but I wanted the brighter colour. I thought it would look cuter on my record player.”

You were so excited that Spencer seemed interested in talking to you, it almost outweighed the incredible amount of nerves you were experiencing in that moment. You were trying your absolute hardest to form normal words and sentences in his presence. Having his whole attention on you as you spoke was so foreign and just as scary as it normally was, but it was also sort of thrilling. You felt like a teenager again, trying something new and rebellious that you figured you might regret later. There was a paradox of wanting to talk to him like this more to aid in your mission to get over your feelings for him, but the more he looked at you and spoke to you, the more you felt yourself falling.

You were making crazy progress on holding a conversation with him, though. You were definitely being more reserved than when you chatted with other people in the office, but this was breaking the record for longest talk you’ve ever had with him. It made your heart beat so fast you were scared you would pass out.

You had moved onto the topic of music and your record collection, the one you had been working on ever since you moved into your own apartment.

“I have about 30 now”, you had a small, proud smile on your face, “it’s growing slowly, I try not to blow all my money on them.”

“No, I get it”, he said back, grinning, “that is so cool, frankly.”

You felt your entire upper body flush with heat when he said that, your face feeling red and tingly. Part of you wanted to squeal at his compliment and the other part wanted to disappear, dig a hole into the floor and hide in it. Yapping came so naturally to you, but it was still proving difficult to speak to him. Your brain was in overdrive, trying so hard to pick the right words to say and string them into coherent sentences, stuff that was as easy as breathing when you spoke to anybody else.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Spencer sounded worried all of a sudden. When you looked at him with a confused expression, he pointed at your mug, “your hands are shaking pretty bad right now, you might want to put that drink down.”

You hadn’t noticed, you were indeed shaking, little ripples running through your tea from the movement.

“I’m okay”, you tried to grin widely, but it felt like a grimace. You tightened your hold on your tea, willing yourself to stop trembling. You realised you had probably reached your limit on talking to Spencer for today. Any more and you may have a heart attack. “Just a bit of the shakes, I have weak arms”, you lied.

“Are you sure-“

“Yes!” Your reply was too hasty and too loud, “yes, of course! I really need to get back to work though.”

He nodded as you cautiously stepped past him and almost jogged towards the exit, careful not to spill your drink.

“Talk to you later, Y/N.”

You paused, looking at him over your shoulder. You could have sworn he looked worried, nervous even. You felt extra light on your feet knowing he wanted to talk to you again.

“Yeah”, you couldn’t help the smile that took over your face, cheeks red and hands damp with sweat, “yeah, talk to you later, Spencer.”

He smiled back in a way that made your chest hurt and you couldn’t figure out if there was actually a halo of glowing light around him or you were hallucinating. You had to turn away and keep walking or you would have burst into flames with how warm your entire body had become. The gentle way he spoke to you replayed in your head over and over and over.

How the hell were you going to get over him?

☆

Spencer couldn’t help smiling to himself as he typed. He was a little distracted from his work today.

“What’s gotten into you?” Alex asked, alarmed at his behaviour. “You’re acting weird and happy and giddy.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, it’s just… did something happen?” Alex abandoned their desk and came over to him. They could be such a gossip sometimes. “Did you finally ask Y/N what the problem was?”

“No”, Spencer stopped doing his work too, turning to look at them, “but we had, like, an actual conversation.”

Alex’s eyebrows shot up, “wow, really?”

“Yes, dude, we talked about Sabrina Carpenter in Fortnite and their record collection”, he was obviously excited, “and it wasn’t a long talk, but they spoke actual sentences to me.”

“Good for you, buddy”, Alex patted his back, trying not to laugh as Spencer turned back to his monitor with a huge smile on his face, “good for you.”

☆

It had been a week since you had that discussion with Spencer and you were still reeling from it. You both got very busy and you didn’t really find yourself alone with him after that. You were both excited and very scared about the next time you could potentially talk. You had been mentally hyping yourself up before work everyday, just in case. You were determined to push your feelings down as far as possible, so you could have a longer conversation next time.

It was a sunny Friday morning when you breezed through the door, mood high because the barista at the cafe remembered your order and gave you a dollar discount. You greeted every single person you walked past and gave Courtney a huge hug when you saw her.

“You’re in a good mood”, they laughed, “happy Friday, huh?”

“I just feel like today’s gonna be an amazing day”, you hummed, pulling away and grabbing her hand. You swung them around between you wildly as you spoke, “the weather’s gorgeous, my coffee tastes extra good this morning, you look beautiful. It’s been great so far.”

She leaned forward and laughed hard.

“Are you sure it’s not because you’re filming with Spence later?”

“What?” You stopped swinging your arm, looking at her with wide eyes, “that’s not why- no, I didn’t even know, no, well, I did know but, that’s not a reason to- like, I don’t even…”

“Okay, breathe”, Courtney was wheezing with laughter now, “I was just teasing, Y/N. You’re okay.”

You fanned your face lightly, why was it so hot in here all of a sudden? Did they know about your feelings for Spencer? You swore you were working on that. Hopefully, the mention of him won’t make you feel like this soon.

“I’ve never seen you stumble over words like that before”, they started swinging your arms again, “what was that about? I thought you didn’t like him.”

“It’s not that I don’t like him”, you explained, shaking your head, “I like him! I like him a lot!”

Another weakness of yours that came along with being a yapper was your bad habit of over-explaining. You couldn’t shut up if you tried, unfortunately.

“You… like him a lot?” Courtney raised a single eyebrow, “never heard you admit that before. That’s very interesting.”

“No!” You let go of her hand to wave yours in front of her in a panic, “no, not like that!”

“Yeah”, she replied, slowly stepping away from you and heading back in the direction she was originally going, “totally, yeah. You didn’t mean it like that.”

You rushed away to your desk, cheeks flared up and your head down to hide it. You didn’t see Courtney look back at you with a mischievous smirk.

☆

“Y/N is on one today”, Courtney gasped as everyone was trying to catch their breath. You had told an off-hand, low-brow joke that you did not expect to land, but apparently everyone at Smosh had the humour of a 12 year old boy. Your chest swelled with pride, not from making everyone at the table laugh, but for making specifically Spencer laugh so hard, he was covering his face with his hands.

You silently thanked the heavens that you got to film a Moose Master video with Spencer today without going through the emotional and physical torture of sitting directly next to him. In your opinion, he looked super hot today, he was wearing a hoodie and pushed the sleeves up instead of taking it off when the game really heated up. All you wanted was to stop looking at the cameras and just stare at his tattoos to commit them to memory. Making him laugh while he looked so good was like doing crack. Or what you imagined doing crack was like.

As the game continued, the volume in the room only increased, more rules making people screw up and yell at each other. It was getting intense.

“You said her first name!” You pointed at Noah accusingly, interrupting the tirade he was on, “you broke a rule! I got your ass!”

“Y/N”, clearly frustrated, Noah put his hand up in your face, “shut up for once!” He then continued with the argument he was having with Amanda.

The comment was played for laughs, clearly all in the lighthearted spirit of the game. You had to admit the way he worded it hurt a little bit. But at the end of the day, you knew he didn’t mean it, you had all said stuff you didn’t mean in the heat of the moment. It wasn’t a big deal, so you got over that twang of pain pretty fast.

Seeming to notice you had become uncharacteristically silent for a moment, Spencer locked eyes with you from across the table. He silently raised his eyebrows and gave you a miniscule nod, you knew this meant ‘are you okay?’ Your cheeks flushed at him paying attention to solely you amongst the chaos and you nodded back in assurance before returning to the game.

His consideration unleashed a thousand butterflies in your stomach, it was clearly not a big deal, but he still wanted to check on you. You almost wanted to be mad at him for being so cute and sweet. He really was not going to let this ‘getting over your crush’ thing easy.

☆

After an hour, filming wrapped and everyone slowly dispersed. You lingered back a little, discussing something random with Courtney. You two walked off the set a little slower than the others, and once you were back in the main section of the office, you bid Courtney adieu as they went off to take care of something else.

“Hey Y/N”, you jumped a little in surprise, you hadn’t realised Spencer was standing by the door, just out of sight. “Can we talk for a second?”

Oh my god, here we go. You had been gearing up for your next one-on-one conversation with Spencer, you wanted this one to go off without a hitch, leaving him thinking you were charismatic and clever. The problem lay in the fact that when you were finally alone with him, and his beautiful eyes were gazing into yours and only yours, your mind went completely blank.

“Yeah”, you replied, exhaling. You didn’t even realise you had been holding your breath. You were glad nobody else was around to see you embarrass yourself.

“Did…”, Spencer scratched the back of his neck, “did what Noah said during that video upset you? I mean, I know you nodded like you were okay, but I just wanted to check on you to make sure, because that was a pretty rude thing to say”, his eyes were avoiding yours this time, “even though I know you know he didn’t really mean it. That doesn’t make it okay, though. Okay, I’m rambling right now, I’m gonna stop…”

You stared at him speechlessly. He was being so unbelievably cute right now. The care he was showing for you and your feelings endeared him to you so much it hurt.

“Spencer, you’re making this so hard”, you groaned without thinking. When you realised what you said, you wanted to run again. Flight or fight activated.

He furrowed his brow in confusion, “making what hard?”

Now you’ve gone and done it. You were incredibly embarrassed, searching the floor for some sort of way out of this situation.

“No, Noah didn’t make me uncomfortable”, you said in a monotone voice.

“Y/N, what am I making hard?” He ignored you and took a step forward, you started to panic.

“That’s what she said”, you couldn’t even laugh at your joke. He didn’t laugh either, and that made you feel even worse.

“Y/N”, Spencer slowly reached for you, as if you were a skittish wild animal. You tried your hardest not to flinch when he gently put his hand on your upper arm. “What’s going on? You can tell me.”

You finally looked up at him. There was an entire galaxy in his eyes you wanted to explore. He had gotten so close to you, but you wanted him even closer.

“I know you don’t really like talking to me, but”, he swallowed, “I really want to change that. You just need to tell me what to do.”

“I do, though”, you mumbled, your face felt so hot, you could probably cook an egg on it. “I want to talk to you all the time, it’s just-”, you shut your mouth, not daring to say anything further.

“What am I making hard for you, Y/N?” He was whispering now.

There was a beat of silence. It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds, but it felt like it stretched on for hours.

“Getting over you”, you whispered back meekly, hands balling into fists by your sides. “Getting over my big, fat crush on you”, you said a little louder, you were diving into the deep end, laying bare your soul for him.

“What?” Spencer’s eyes had widened to the size of saucers, entire body almost recoiling in surprise. “That doesn’t make sense. I thought you didn’t like me. You talk to every single person in the office like they’re your best friend except for me.”

“Y-you make me nervous”, you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, “I’ve never been any good at talking to cute guys I like.”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a deep red. He seemed almost as flustered as you.

“But!” You were fighting to save the situation, the last thing you wanted was to completely fuck up the work environment for both of you because of your schoolyard crush. “I promise I’m trying my best to get over my feelings for you. And then it’ll be so much easier to chat, and we can yap all day long together! I just need some time to work on it, that’s all.”

“Stop”, he murmured, tone pleading. He had stepped even closer, you could feel the heat coming off his body. Or it was just the heat your own face was generating. You were pretty sure you were visibly sweating. “Stop that.”

“What-”

“I don’t want you to”, he gently took your hand and you felt like you couldn’t breathe, a shiver ran up your spine, “I don’t want you to get over me.” His green eyes bore into yours, your heart thudded against your ribcage as you willed yourself not to break eye contact. “I haven’t been able to get over you, you know”, he spoke to you in a quiet tone you had never heard from him before, “ever since we talked in the break room, I’ve been thinking about you all the time.”

You opened your mouth and closed it a few times, completely in shock and searching for words that were not coming to you. You were so accustomed to knowing what to say in reply to pretty much anything, the constant flow of conversation buzzing at the back of your head came to a screeching halt. There was nothing but a heavy silence in your head as the man you’ve been pining for was metaphorically grabbing your heart out of your chest and claiming it as his.

“Just… thinking about you and how funny and bright you are”, he kept going, you had never heard Spencer word-vomit like this and it made your heart soar, “you talk so loud, but I love it because I can still hear you even though you won’t talk to me”, that made you laugh, your free hand coming up to cover your red face. “Your jokes always get me, and I love how you laugh with your whole body. I’m just always thinking about your smile, and your humour, and how kind you are to everyone, you’ve been driving me crazy.”

You covered his mouth with your trembling hand. You were so flustered, you felt like you were going to melt into a puddle any second. He looked at you with expectant eyes, round and imploring, like he was asking a silent question.

“You’re talking more than me for once”, you inspected every part of his face, you rarely had the opportunity to do that, you had been avoiding being close to him all this time after all. He chuckled behind your hand, the way his eyes crinkled a little in the corners when he smiled made you want to scream. You worried that he might be able to feel your racing pulse. “I never thought you would like me back.”

He slowly pushed your hand away from his mouth, “and I never thought you would like me. You acted like you hated me.”

“Okay”, you started, cutting yourself off with an embarrassed chortle, “I was panicking every time I saw you, I’m sorry!”

You joked with each other like that for the next few minutes, your heartbeat slowing slightly as you calmed down. Your chest tightened with excitement as you realised he had inched even closer, almost touching you. He looked at you with so much affection in his eyes when you laughed at something he said. You felt like you were on cloud nine.

“So”, you looked down at your fingers still interlocked, “what does this mean for us then?”

“Well”, Spencer pretended to think really hard, “if you can actually stand talking to me for more than five minutes,” he ignored you as you smacked his chest in fake offence, “would you like to go on a date with me?”

You hummed, also pretending to think really hard. He grinned at you, eyes fond. You wondered if he had been looking at you like that all this time.

“Yes, I think I’d like that”, you answered softly.

Feeling bold, you leaned in slightly, wondering if you could get away with kissing him on the cheek. He had other plans, tilting his head so his lips were almost grazing yours. He stayed still, waiting on you, always waiting on you. Both of you had your eyes half closed, transfixed on each other’s lips. Your stomach flipped as you took the leap, moving forward and pressing your mouth against his. It was absolute bliss.

Just like that, the invisible wall between you came tumbling down. It was like it was never there in the first place as Spencer’s hand squeezed yours tight.

☆

Note: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think! Also, I am happy for people to send requests, I want to try writing shorter fics, so that would be perfect! If you have sent me an ask, please be patient with me as I work through them, thanks guys. <333

♡ masterlist

[stylesispunk]

So. Joel with a reader who has a bad habit of calling him “dude” or “bro”. She doesn’t even mean to do it, it’s just a big part of her vocabulary for some reason. Maybe she’s been hanging around Ellie a bit too much… maybe it’s a habit she’s always had and just can’t seem to kick, slipping up every now and then.. how would he feel??

Hi baby! I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but it went like this!

"CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT IT BUT THAT!"

gif credits to @/bratmillers

Pairing: jackson!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: You have the bad habit of calling Joel dude or bro and he is done with you.

warnings: none really. mutual pinning and perhaps me being meh.

Joel Miller swore he could bear anything. Yes, the thousand times he had almost died but survived. He could handle clickers, raiders and a freezing winter that made his skin burn out.

But as everyone, he had a weakness, and his was that he couldn’t handle being called “bro” one more time.

Because that weakness came with you, and yes, you were his weakest point.

It had started the moment Ellie had come into your lives. But after arriving at Jackson and being here for a couple of months, fitting in the routine of your new quiet life. You became different, you fit here just perfectly, but just as Ellie, your mouth ran faster than your brain. It was like the both of you had become the extinction of each other, a fruit of the same tree.

After all it felt like that. The three of you were a family.

But Joel hated the way you called everyone “bro” and “dude” because you called him the same and that made him felt less important for you.

“Dude, you scared the hell out of me”

“Thanks for the help, bro”

“Dude, you’re a lifesaver”

He fucking hated it. He didn’t say anything, because what was he supposed to do? Call you out in front of everybody? Tell you it made him feel like some awkward kid on the outside of your life, while he wanted to be at the very center of it?

After one particularly rough patrol the both of you stepped inside the house.

You kicked off your boots and your jacket while groaning, “Bro, remind me why we signed up for this again?”

And Joel had stiffened, jaw tight, ears hot.

Ellie, who was sitting on the couch, holding a comic in her hands, just grinned like a damn Cheshire cat.

Joel didn’t say a word just muttered something under his breath and made for the stairs, boots heavy on the steps.

“You know?” she drawled, “you keep calling him bro, people are gonna start thinking you’re not into him,” she teased, biting into an apple.

You flushed. Heart stammering inside your ribcage “Ellie.”

“What? I’m just saying. Dude, did you see that face? Poor old man looks like he’s gonna combust every time you do it.” She wiggled her eyebrows at you.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “It’s a habit, okay? I don’t even realize I’m saying it. It’s like breathing.” You glanced the stairs Joel had walked on for a bit “Besides, it’s because of you.”

“Yeah, and it’s killing him.”

You peeked at her through your fingers. “Really?”

Ellie grinned. “Swear to god. Next time you call him dude, watch his face. It’s like someone just stabbed him in the heart and kicked his puppy at the same time.”

You groaned again, dropping your head back against the couch cushion. “Fuck.”

“You might want to do something about it,” Ellie sing-songed. “Unless you wanna keep breaking his poor old man heart.”

“Hey, he’s not that old.” You defended him.

Ellie snorted. “Please. The man grunts more than he talks. That’s how you know.”

You huffed out a laugh despite yourself. Then silence settled between you, the fire crackling softly.

“You think I ruined it?” you asked quietly.

Ellie glanced at you, expression softening a little. “I think that if you go up there right now and maybe try calling him something that’s not bro, you’ll be fine.”

You nodded, anxiety crawling in your chest, determination setting in, but still not ready to face it.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked, exasperate “Go get your man, dude!”

You stood, raking a hand through your hair. You flipped her off without looking back and headed for the stairs.

You took the stairs slower than you probably should’ve. Each creaky step felt louder than the last, like the whole damn house was tattling on you.

By the time you reached Joel’s door, you half-considered turning around and blaming it on Ellie. She was the one who started it, after all.

You lifted your hand and knocked softly.

No answer.

“Joel?” you called; voice weirdly tight in your throat.

A beat, then his rough voice came through the wood.

At least, you hadn’t called him dude

“Yeah?”

“Can I… come in?”

Another pause. Then, “Yeah.”

You pushed the door open to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the strap of his watch like it had personally offended him. He didn’t look up right away, and when he did, his brown eyes met yours, a little guarded, a little vulnerable and everything hit you right in the chest.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind you.

He made a low sound in response that came out as more of a grunt.

You chewed your bottom lip, feeling your palms go a little clammy.

“Listen… I, uh. I wanted to say sorry.”

That got his attention. He straightened, frowning slightly. “For what?”

“For—” you exhaled, gesturing vaguely. “The whole bro, dude, thing. I know it probably sounds dumb but… Ellie kind of pointed out I do it a lot. To you. And I didn’t mean to make you feel like…” you trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence without sounding like an idiot.

Joel set the watch down and finally gave you his full attention, his brow furrowed.

“Like what?”

You swallowed. “Like you’re just some guy to me.”

That’s it. You had confessed it.

But the room went quiet. The kind of quiet that felt heavy and you felt the rush up to your cheeks.

If Ellie had played a joke on you…

Joel’s jaw tightened, and he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

“Well,” he said gruffly, “I’m not mad. Just…I kinda wish you’d call me something else.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?” you smiled, shyly.

“Yeah.”

You took a cautious step closer. “Like what?”

He gave a small, crooked smile, a little shy, a little rough around the edges. “I dunno. Something different to bro” he said, making a sign with his fingers.”

A soft laugh bubbled out of you. “I can do that.”

Another step closer. You were standing right in front of him now, and Joel tilted his head up to look at you. His gaze was warm and steady in a way that made your stomach flip.

“Okay then,” you said, voice quieter now. “How about… Joel?”

He chuckled “Really? What if I call you kid?” he challenged.

You opened your mouth in offense, hand to your chest “I’m not a kid.”

“I know, you are past thirty-five already.” He said, smiling at you.

You gaped at him. “Excuse me? Past thirty-five? I’m in my prime, old man.”

He laughed outright at that, the warmth in his eyes unmistakable now. “Yeah, you are.” The way he said it, softly, honest, a little rough around the edges, sent a flush creeping up your neck.

You cleared your throat, trying to recover.

“Okay, so… deal. No more bro, no more dude.” You said, trying to recover from your own shame, but your heart was pounding like a drum in your chest.

Joel’s smile softened, the teasing still lingering in the corners of his mouth. But then, without another word, he reached out and caught your wrist, not rough, just steady, fingers curling gently around yours like it was the most natural thing between the two of you. This kind of touch.

You looked down at where he held you, then back up at him, breath hitching.

“Come here,” he murmured.

And before you could overthink it, before you could make another dumb joke or call him dude by accident, Joel tugged you in and kissed you.

It was this perfect, slow, finally kind of kiss, the kind that said everything neither of you had been brave enough to say out loud. His hand slid from your wrist to your waist, steadying you, anchoring you to him, while your fingers instinctively found the fabric of his shirt.

When he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his voice was low and rough.

“Been wanting to do that for a while. You had been killing this whole time with the dude thing”

A crooked grin tugged at your lips, the flush in your cheeks impossible to hide now.

“Sorry,” you murmured, though you didn’t sound sorry at all.

Joel shook his head, his thumb brushing a slow arc against your waist. “Yeah, you are. But it’s alright.” His voice dropped even lower, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I got something better to call you now anyway.”

Your stomach flipped. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

He smiled, warm and a little smug. “Mine.”

And you swear you could’ve died happy right now.

[torncwpid]

Rewrite the First Time

Summary: Gaz finding out that reader's ex absolutely half-assed her first time, and deciding to make it up for her when they finally have sex

Cw: sexually explicit content (mdni), mentions of bad past relationship, fluffy smut, fem!reader

Word count: 1.9k

I still feel a little awkward writing explicit smut but I figured writing out this thought would be a good idea to exercise that

You didn’t mean to tell him. It was just another late night conversation with your friend, and you were way too comfortable near him. Comfortable enough to feel like it wouldn't be a big deal to mention it, you both wrapped in blankets and watching some half-forgotten show rerun on your couch, his shoulder heavy beside yours.

Kyle had asked you how your last relationship ended. A simple thing friends usually know about each other. You felt like you should have had a simple answer, but the truth is that there were so many reasons for the breakup, all tangled into one big and complicated knot, and you rarely really mentioned all those reasons, settling for a short and socially acceptable “We weren't what each other needed, so I didn't want to be wasting our time and broke up”.

But something about the way he asked it gave you the space to actually answer honestly. Not the autopilot script you gave everyone else. Not the polished version that skipped over the shame and the ache, so you told him about the guy you dated before. He’d gotten under your skin with charm, flattered you until you said yes, and settled on bare minimum from then on. You told Kyle how he made everything feel like a transaction — even sex. Especially sex.

The first time you’d ever been with anyone, it had been with him. You told Kyle how he hadn’t even looked at you when it was over, how he just rolled away. Didn’t kiss you, praise you, ask if you needed anything… just turned his back and went to sleep like your body was a hotel bed he didn’t want to pay for.

You laughed as you said it, and you meant it. It did hurt that he didn't bother to make it special when you had told him more than once how important it was to you, but after so long, you just learned how to live with it since you knew you couldn't change that. What was done was done. But it still stung you deep down — the knowledge that you didn't have a good first experience and couldn't do anything to change it.

Kyle didn’t laugh, though. He didn’t even speak for a long few seconds. His jaw clenched slightly, a muscle ticking like he was chewing through words and discarding each one.

“I’m sorry,” you’d said too quickly, like you’d broken some invisible rule. “I shouldn’t have— That was too much.”

“No, luv, you’re allowed to talk about shit that hurt you.”

You blinked, surprised at how that pet name sounded from his mouth — easy, natural, like it just rolled off. Not romantic, not then. But warm.

He stayed a little longer that night. Watched you out of the corner of his eye as you laughed too hard at some dumb joke on the TV, like he was memorizing the sound.

He never forgot.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later — after flirty texts turned into late-night calls and the tension between you built up every time he brushed your hand or said your name just a bit too softly — that you realized Kyle hadn’t forgotten what you told him.

Because when his hands finally touched your skin like he wanted you, not just because you were available and a woman, but because you were you, it was with a care that had no business being so gentle.

It started slow, like it always did with Kyle. He wasn’t pushy, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t intense. He kissed you like the taste of your mouth might save him. His hands ran over your sides, your hips, your jaw, slow and steady like he wanted to memorize every millimetre of your body, like he had all night to.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear.

You shook your head. “Don’t.”

He leaned back slightly, warm eyes searching yours. “Say it.”

“I want you,” you said, voice smaller than you intended.

He smiled, a crooked, soft smile that would have looked boyish if it wasn't for the fire behind his eyes.

And when he touched you… God.

It felt like he was trying to erase the memory of your first time with every stroke of his fingers, every kiss he left against your thighs, your stomach, your breasts. Like he could dig into your bones and pull out that leftover ache and replace it with something that felt like reverence.

“You know,” he murmured, mouth against your skin, “you deserve better than what he gave you.”

It took you a while to remember what he was talking about — who “he” was.

“I know” you whispered.

He looked up at you, face deadly serious. “You should’ve known it then too. He should’ve shown you.”

You swallowed hard, not sure what to say. The weight of being wanted like this wasn’t something you were used to. Not like this. Not when there was no rush. No demand. Just… him.

“I’m not gonna fuck you like it’s routine,” he said softly. “You’re not a goddamn checkbox, love.”

And somehow, that made your breath catch more than anything else he’d said or done.

You weren’t a checkbox.

Not to him.

Not ever.

His mouth found yours again before you could say anything else, stealing whatever breath you had left.

This kiss wasn’t the slow burn from earlier. This one was heat and want and teeth. A low groan rumbled in his chest when you pulled him closer, your fingers sliding under his shirt, feeling the muscles beneath. He let you explore for a minute, then pulled back just enough to strip himself of the fabric before reaching for the hem of yours.

“Can I?” he murmured.

You nodded, and he peeled it over your head with care, like he was unwrapping something sacred. His eyes darkened as they dragged down your body, and he swore softly under his breath.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he said, and the way he said it — low, guttural, full of awe — made your cheeks burn.

He kissed down your neck, slow and unhurried, until he reached your chest, taking his time there too, like every part of you deserved his full attention. You arched into his mouth as he suckled and teased, and the way he responded — his hand cradling your side, murmuring something sweet you couldn’t quite catch — made your whole body light up.

You’d had someone touch you before, but it never felt like this, even when he was hornier than usual. Kyle didn’t just want you; he worshipped you. Every touch felt like he was craving you, not sex.

When his hand slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, you gasped, your hips lifting instinctively. He hummed against your skin.

“Shhh, I got you,” he whispered. “Gonna take my time with you.”

He pushed the fabric down and off, kissing your thighs as they trembled under his mouth. His breath ghosted over your cunt before he looked up, checking, he was always checking.

“You want this?” he asked.

“Please”

He groaned again, deeper this time, and then his mouth was on you. He didn’t rush, didn’t force, he listened to every moan, every stuttered breath, every twitch of your hips. His hands pinned you down just enough to make you feel safe.

When you came on his tongue, it wasn’t quiet. Wasn’t graceful. It was raw and shaking, and he held you through every second of it like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

Only then did he kiss his way back up your body, lips swollen, chin wet.

You pulled him into another kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue, and when you felt him hard against your thigh, you reached down to help him out of the rest of his clothes, and you gasped for a second at the feeling of how big he was.

Still, even now, he paused.

“You sure?” he asked again, voice hoarse.

“I’ve never been more sure,” you said under a chuckle.

He lined himself up, and just before he pushed in, he cupped your cheek, kissing you one more time, like he needed it. Like you grounded him.

The stretch was slow, more careful than anything you’d felt before. Your breath caught, and he stilled immediately, holding you like glass.

“You okay?” he whispered, forehead resting against yours.

Your response was a frantic nod. “I just feel so full.”

He smiled gently. “That’s good, love. Tell me if it’s too much.”

He moved in shallow thrusts at first, letting you adjust, his hands gripping your hips like he couldn’t believe he was finally inside you. The sound of skin against skin built up slowly, your moans mixing with his, the heat between you unbearable but just perfect.

And then he really started moving. Now it was deeper, harder, and your nails dug into his back.

“Kyle—”

“Fuck, say it again,” he barked, the softness from just minutes ago almost completely gone, the only way you could feel it now was in how he was observing you, looking out for any sign of pain or regret.

“Kyle,” you whimpered.

“God, you feel good— So fuckin’ good around me. So fuckin' tight and wet and all mine— All. Fucking. Mine.”

You cried out, pleasure climbing up your spine like fire. He kept whispering praises disguised as humiliation at you, until you were close again. And he could tell you were there before you even realized. Could feel how much tighter you got.

“I’ve got you, love. Let go for me. Wanna feel you cum all over me.”

And you followed his command like the good girl you are. Feeling you clench around him, he thanked God that you were on birth control, because there was no way he could pull out when you felt so good, dragging him over the edge with you as he buried himself deep with a groan.

He didn’t pull out right away. Just held you and thrusted lazily into you while you both caught your breath.

He pressed kisses to your hair and shoulder before moving the both of you so he could lay down and tuck you into his chest, arms wrapped tightly around you like he never wanted to let go.

Later, when your body was limp with satisfaction and laziness, when he was tracing idle lines on your hipbone, you’d turned your head and asked the question that had been curling in your chest like smoke.

“Why d’you care so much?”

He hadn’t looked at you right away. Just dragged his fingers down your thigh and kissed your shoulder.

“Because,” he said eventually, “if I’d been your first, I’d have made sure you never forgot it, for the right reasons.”

His voice was rough, and you could tell that he hated that it hadn't been him.

You rolled to face him, your heart pulling tight

“You kind of just did,” you whispered.

The look he gave you then was pure fire and tenderness all at once. Possessive. Dangerous.

Yours.

And he didn’t say it, at least not out loud, but you could feel it in the way his hand curled protectively around your waist and tugged you closer like he needed you against him to survive.

This is how it should’ve been the first time.

And this is how it’ll be every time.

[blythedolly]

6 days later

—♡ synopsis: when leon tries to confess his feelings, his lack of self control takes over once again.

—♡ warnings: pervy leon (he’s kinda gross but in a hot way), innocent girly reader, possessiveness, teasing, loss of virginity, fingering, handjob, oral sex (reader receiving), biting, choking, aftercare, confession of feelings, fluff, best friends to lovers. not for minors. read part one here!

it had been 6 intensely slow days since leon had painted a very confusing picture between your legs with his tongue, and you had absolutely no intention of bringing it up. you were unsure if it was shyness, or fear of ruining the sweet friendship you shared with him. you decided if anyone was going to bring this up first, it would be leon. he was the one who initiated it, so it's only fair. 

you had seen him almost every day since, your usual friendly (nearly too friendly to be considered platonic in any form) ways of showing affection to each other were established. as always. leon’s large hands drawing pictures on your sweet thighs as you sat between his legs. back resting against his hard chest. his other hand busy playing with the pretty pink bows in your hair. the differences in styles was one of leon’s favorite things. you were always wearing the most girly attire, tonight was a pretty pink tank and those pj shorts that are very familiar to him, meanwhile, he was wearing a black tank and grey sweats. 

obviously, you couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened, and it was making you mad that he hadn’t brought it up. but tonight was movie night and you were staying over. in which you always talked each other’s ears off. surely he was going to bring it up, right? 

blush crept up on your cheeks at the thought of the event, and your cotton panties grew wet as you recollected how his tongue felt as it separated your folds in the most erotic and obscene way. the effect he had over you has always been quite ridiculous, but now it has just gotten worse. so much worse. 

you used your smart brain, which he always complimented and praised and thought of the sweet memory as your fingers desperately swirled around your clit. every single night since. you wondered if he touched himself at the thought too, you hoped he did. 

god, you hoped that he did. 

you looked back at him carefully as your head rested against his muscular shoulder, his eyes focused on the screen whilst the movie played, his hand still resting on your bare thigh. 

why isn't he saying anything? was I just a one-time fling? 

his eyes were heavy, he was getting tired. you sighed and looked away from him, but felt your tummy flip once you realized how loud it sounded when it escaped your mouth. 

he noticed immediately and his eyes traveled down to you. 

“are you gonna tell me what's wrong, doll?” he asks, as if he didn’t already know what you were thinking. 

“no,” you muttered, staring blankly at the screen. he repositions himself, and you. moving you from between his legs so you were facing each other. you huff, crossing your legs as he rests his head against his headboard. 

“tell me. now.”

“leon n-”

“it wasn't a question, tell me what’s on your mind,” leon moves his hand back onto your thigh. fuck, why is he doing this?

“why are you doing this to me, leon?” you ask, your tone as serious as it could possibly sound. leon tried to fight off a smile, it just sounded so cute to him. but he knew it irritated you when people didn’t take you seriously. 

“doing what?” he asks, you roll your eyes.

“you had your mouth between my legs not even a week ago and now you’re acting as if nothing even happened? I thought you liked me but obviously I was just a stupid fling of yours or something,” you blurted out, tears brewing in your eyes. he could hear the pain in your sweet voice, and it made him frown. you moved quickly to stand up, but his hand wrapped around your arm. pulling you back to him. 

“that's not what that was at all, oh my god. I do like you, so much more than a friend,” he says, wiping away a tear that fell from your eye. “I was just.. ashamed that I didn't tell you, and I just acted out my feelings by not being able to control my impulses. I was horny, and I couldn't control myself around you anymore.” you blinked many times as he spoke, listening to his words closely. 

“i get horny too, leon. really horny. i’m not some prude. you don’t have to treat me like i don’t know anything about sex just because you’re more experienced than i am,” you tell him, finally gaining the courage to meet his eyes. “I wear this kind of stuff around you for a reason,” you add, barely above a whisper. 

leon’s demeanor abruptly changes due to your confession, his grip on your arm growing tighter. “say that again,” he demands. you gulp nervously.

“i.. I wear that stuff around you on purpose... I wanted you to see my... my pussy when i bent over,” you say shyly, he groans. feeling himself twitch in his boxers.

you were disgusting, just like him. and he fucking loved it. 

he pulls you onto his lap roughly, plushy thighs straddling his waist. you gasp, enjoying the way his roughness hurt your skin. your cushiony cheeks blushing as you met his eyes once again. his hand creeps towards your inner thighs, watching your facial expressions closely. your lips were slightly agape, eyebrows furrowed and your eyes were heavy. convinced he could cum alone just by the effect he has over you. over your sweet body. 

“i bet you've thought about my tongue a lot. huh, sweet girl?” you nod your head, distracted by the way his fingers circled the skin of your inner thighs. so close to your beating little button. 

“i’ve thought about it too,” he leans forward, his lips not even a centimeter from your own. “think about my mouth on that pretty little cunt all the fucking time,” you whined, hips instinctively bucking forward to seek friction. unable to hold himself off any longer, his hand finally made contact. gripping your plushy pussy over your shorts. 

“same ones you wore when I buried my face in here, huh? how cute..” you moaned, nodding your head. “y-yeah, knew you liked them so...”

“I do like them, but I also want to rip them the fuck off,” he says, his tone sounding aggressive, yet so sexy and desperate. it was only making your cunt throb. “and your panties. think you can do that for me, baby?” you whine softly at the pet name. 

you move off his lap for a moment, slipping your pj shorts and soft panties down your legs before straddling him once more. placing both of your hands on his strong shoulders. he bit his lip at your eagerness, and his perviness was making you so fucking wet. 

“you’re dripping, disgusting little thing you are,” he smirks, sliding his fingers through your puffy lips. you gasped, his pupils dilating at the sight of his fingers between your legs “getting a wet pussy over my gross words and lack of self control..”

“mhm,” you mutter, eyes fluttering closed as his fingers touch every crevice between your sensitive folds. 

“what am I going to do with you? hmmmm...” he knows exactly what he's going to do with you. he just had fun taunting you. his desperate, dumb, sweet angel.

“n-need you to touch me again... please,” your hands squeeze the material of his tank, naked hips humping his hand as it explores your cunt. “do you wanna.. do you wanna fuck me, leon?” you ask, your sweet voice making him melt. 

“of course I do, baby,” he smiles, finally pressing his lips to yours. he immediately pushed his tongue inside of your mouth. the kiss was messy and borderline disgusting, but you loved it. every time you whined into his mouth, he added more pressure with his fingers between your legs. then suddenly, two of his thick fingers pushed inside of your dripping hole. you screamed into his mouth at the intrusion, the stretch of his fingers bringing tears to your eyes. his self control had clearly been thrown out the window once again, but you didn't care. because it felt so good. 

“such a good girl,” he praises, causing your walls to clench tightly around his fingers. he uses his free hand to grab ahold of your own, lowering it between leon’s legs. “gonna make you cum so many times tonight. think you can make me cum too, yeah?” he says against your lips, you nod your head. 

“atta girl,” he smiles, moving your hand into his sweats. “just do exactly what you think you should, think you can be a good girl and do that for me, baby?” you blush, nodding your head even more eagerly than the first. you do as he says. slipping your fingers into his sweats and boxers, wrapping your fingers around his rock hard cock. he groaned, bucking his hips into your hand. “fuck, good fucking girl.”

you were a little unsure of what you were doing, but leon's reactions and words reassured you that you were doing good. his own fingers became relentless inside of you in return, your soft moans filling his room every time he hit a sensitive spot inside you. you moved your soft hand up and down his shaft continuously, your thumb swiping the bead of precum off his tip which made his eyes roll back. “just like that, mhm,” he moaned, moving his head back so he could watch your face contort. he knew you were close, you were breathless, humping his hand like a bunny in heat. 

“gonna cum all over my fingers, pretty baby? is that why your face is all scrunched up?” he asks, and you nod. he speeds up his fingers, and you fall apart with no warning. you scream as your body convulses on his lap, your glistening cum painting his hand and wrist. the way you were shaking caused his own orgasm, muttering profanities as he came inside of his boxers, his cum leaking onto your fingers. he slowed his fingers inside of you as he grabbed your hand, moving it up to your mouth. you lick his semen off of your fingers with delight, looking into his eyes. you could've sworn his eyes went dark at the sight, like there was a demon inside of him trying to escape. 

you giggle as he watches, making a little show out of it.

“dirty little thing, fuck,” he smiles, finally removing his fingers from your warm pussy. he licks your wetness off, groaning at your sweet taste. before you could finish coming down from your intense high, he threw you down on the bed. pinning you down with his large body. just about tearing off your tank top, leaving you completely bare beneath him. 

“god, look at you,” he mutters, looking down at your body. “could do anything to you and you'd just fucking take it.” you whine as he lowers his head, tracing his nose along your jawline and neck. he inhales deeply. he's making you feel like prey. he’s the hungry wolf, and you're the poor animal he's about to feast on. you almost feel ashamed that your cunt is pulsing by his actions. you love it so much. 

he moves his way down your body, biting at your breast before taking your nipple into his mouth. he sucks hard, making your back arch off his mattress. your whines only making him more devious. he moves his attention to the other one momentarily before biting and licking his way down your torso. leaving as many marks as he possibly could. 

“gonna fucking destroy you, sweetheart. make you mine forever,” he smirks against the skin on your tummy, before biting reasonably hard. you gasp, the action causing you to spread your legs wide for him. he settles between them, gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. he sucks dark marks onto your soft thighs, biting them until he could taste your sweet crimson blood on his tongue. he wasn't ashamed at being disgusting with you anymore, what was the point in holding back when you were just as disgusting as him?

he licks over the teeth shaped wounds, collecting every drop of your blood. you found yourself wanting to beg, beg for his tongue on your pussy, but you were enjoying it all too much. you never wanted it to end. 

“don't even need to do this, since you're so fuckin wet,” he says, sliding his tongue painfully slow against your dripping wet hole. “but this is for me.” he groans, before latching his mouth onto your entire pussy. 

you moan loudly, back arching off the bed. your hand flies down to his hair, pulling the golden strands harshly. he groans into your cunt, his lips sucking on your clit as if he was put on earth solely to please you. “l-leon, oh god...” you whine, leon groans into your pulsing cunt. shaking his head from side to side. he was relentless. 

the coil in your tummy was already on the verge of snapping, leon could tell by the way you were clenching around his tongue. he raised his hands to pinch both of your nipples, desperate to have you falling apart all over his mouth and tongue once again. 

you gripped his hair tight and bucked your tired hips into his face as you came, gushing into his mouth and all over his tongue. your screams filled the room, and the way you convulsed on his face just made him wanna stay like this forever. 

he finally moves his head, and you whine as he gets up. towerring over your exhausted frame. “relax, baby.” he smirks, pulling down his sweats and boxer shorts. 

your eyes travelled down his body, breath hitching as he revealed his cock to you. you gulped, it was very big. at least 7 inches, veiny and perfectly curved. you bit your lip, legs still wide open at his despair. 

“i’m gonna fuck that pretty pussy for real now, okay?” you whimper, nodding your head. making sure your thighs were spread open as far as they could go. he moves between your thighs, hovering over you, feeling his warm cock hitting your inner thighs. he captures your lips in a messy kiss, letting you taste yourself as he slid his cock up and down your dripping core until it was covered in your cum. 

he wastes no time, lining it up with your entrance and sliding it in slowly. it gave everything in his not to thrust it all in at once, but this was your first time. he may not have had self control, but he'd never want to scare or hurt you. he went in inch by inch, paying close attention to your gasps and facial expressions. since you were so prepared, needy and wet, he bottomed out in no time. 

once he was fully inside you, you couldn’t stop yourself from clenching around him so tightly. it felt so good being so full. full of him. the sting almost had you drooling. his eyes rolled back as he appreciated your tightness, stretching your delectable pussy open for the very first time. he felt so privileged.  

“feel too good… fuck. are you ready for me, baby?” he asks through an abundance of groans, and you nod your head. with that, he began fucking you. he started out with slow thrusts, moaning into your mouth as your tight walls sucked him in impossibly deep. he was able to control himself, but as soon as the words, “please, more leon,” fell from your pleading lips, it was over. 

he began drilling into you, hard and fast. you screamed for his repeatedly and your nails clawed down his arms. he was groaning loud as he abused your hole, he couldn't help but watch your pussy as he slid his cock in and out. god, it was sinful. he could've started drooling when he saw the ring of cream your cunt had left at the base of his cock. 

your hands moved to his back, scratching pretty marks into his skin as he kept up his relentless pace. 

“god... look at you, taking me like you were fucking made for me,” he says breathlessly, eyes still locked onto the sight of your cunt sucking him in. you tried to respond, but the pleasure was too intense, all you could do was pathetically whine. “you were made for me. all this time... I’ve known it. you’re fucking mine,” you moaned at his words, feeling the familiar tingles in your stomach once again. 

“yours... all yours... always,” you whine, and before you could think anymore, you were cumming around his relentless cock. your back arched and your torso pressed against yours as leon’s ears were met with the most sinful scream he'sever heard. you were convulsing and drooling. he came at the same time. how could he not? groaning loud as his hot load flooded into you. he couldn't stop staring at you as you came for him. he slowed his thrusts once you had finished, wrapping his arms around you once he had eventually stopped. his cock still buried inside of you. 

“oh my god, baby,” he laughs, pressing a soft kiss to your jawline. you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. he held you close, feeling you shake in his arms. he was so proud of himself. 

“lost control again.... hm?” you mutter out with a smile. he laughs, nodding his head. 

“maybe a little bit,” he replies, a gentle blush creeping up on his cheeks. 

“mhmmm, me too,” you add, looking up at his. he leans down kissing your lips. this one being soft and delicate, not like the others. you smiled, brushing a loose strand of his hair behind his ear. before either of you could say anything else, he pulled out slowly. he kisses your head gently before moving off of you. you whine as his presence moves further away from you. he heads into the bathroom, grabbing a warm wet towel for you. he comes back and cleans you up, so gently and carefully. he grabs one of his clean shirts and you sit up as he pulls it onto your body. he smiles to himself, so different to the clothes you’re usually wearing. he moves his attention to your soft hair, fixing the loose strands. you blushed. smiling down at your lap. 

once he was done, he sits back on the bed and pulls you onto his lap. “gonna take you out to dinner tomorrow night,” he blurts out, and you smile.

“oh really?” you ask, playing with the hem of the shirt you now wore. 

“mhm, i need to do this right. without the temptation of a bed nearby,” he jokes, and you giggle. 

“sounds good,” you say shyly, which he notices. 

“oh come on, how could you still be shy after all of that? my cock was just inside of you for fuck sake,” he chuckles, his words making you hide your face in your hands. 

“leonnnn, stop,” you whine, laughing nervously. he grabs your hands and moves them away, kissing them both. 

“it’s okay, baby. don't you hide from me,” he says, fiddling with your fingers as he spoke. you nod your head softly, you look at his, his heart skipping a beat as he stares at your beautiful features. 

“i’ve fallen so hard for you, i hope you know that,” he adds, hearing the nervousness in his tone. you smiled, finally hearing the words you wanted to hear. your best friend liked you back, as more than just a best friend. holding in your excitement was almost impossible, but you did it. 

“i’m yours, leon. in every way,” you say as your eyes meet his. “i’ve always been yours,” you cup his cheeks in your hand, kissing his lips softly

he felt so lucky. you were his girl. his sweet, precious girl. always.

[jabber-simper]

Making Them Jealous By Accident - Sinostra

You didn't realize you weren't giving your loving boyfriend enough attention but when he starts to complain about you spending time with someone else it dawns on you. You better make sure to assure him he's the only one for you.

Very very vague references to spice in Taiga's part

Sinostra | Frostheim | Jabberwock | Hotarubi | Obscuary | Mortkraken | Vagastrom

Ritsu Shinjo

You end up spending a lot of your time lately with Ren

You hadn't meant to not spend as much time around Ritsu but between doing a mission with Jabberwock that was just finished and Ren trying to get you to participate in the latest guild event for the game he made you join, your time was pretty well taken up

You were in the mystery diner with Ren, him hovering over you shoulder to coach you on how to place your teams when Ritsu came him

Ritsu knew you were friends with Ren, he did have the recording of you refering to him as such afterall, but he still couldn't help the pang he felt when he came into the diner and saw how close Ren was to you

"Ah Mr. Shiranami, do you mind if I take my buisness partner for a moment to discuss something?"

"Just make sure you place them properly before the event ends." Ren mutters as he leaves you and Ritsu to talk

You greet Ritsu with a hug and a kiss on the cheek once Ren has left and ask after how he's doing and what he needs

He hesitates, for once unsure how to word what he's feeling

"I think we need to revise our relationship contract"

"How so? You still want to be with me right?" You asked quickly, suddenly very worried

"Of course i still want to be with you. I merely want to advise it to allocate for spending more time with each other and less time around others."

By now you're an expert in speaking Ritsu

"Ritsu..are you, jealous of how much time I've spent around Ren lately?" You tease, earlier fear all but forgotten

Ritsu frowns but doesn't deny it, afterall, he can't lie to his partner! That's just bad practice and being a bad boyfriend

"Ritsu I'm sorry." You genuinely apologize "I'll make it up to you, but you know you're the only one for me"

Ritsu does know that. But that won't stop him from listening to the recording he now has of you saying he's the only one for you when he's lying in bed alone at night and missing you, even though you only just left to go shower or something else before coming back to him, because you'd always come back to him

Romeo Lucci

Of course Romeo notices how you trail around after that first year, assisting him when you should have been assisting Romeo instead! Know your place BB!

He finally has enough when after several of his messages were left unread he sees you on his security cameras once more trailing behind that first year lawyer

This time he calls you and watches the cameras to see if you'd even bother to answer him, lucky for you that you do

"GET TO MY LOUNGE RIGHT NOW IYKWGFY"

"Iykwgf?"

"IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU, YOU BB"

Waits out the minute it takes you to get to his lounge in a fit, going between upset that you dare ignore him, and upset that maybe, just maybe, you like that first year more than him

When you finally enter the room the sight you're greeted with is Romeo sitting stiffly in one of his seats with an anxious look on his face.

Do not bring it up to him, he can't think about getting wrinkles right now!

"What did you need help with Romeo?"

"You ignored my messages!"

"Sorry, Jin was spamming me with demands too and Ritsu wanted me to memorize a lot of the laws as well as collect information for potential clients." You sigh

"So you're not just avoiding me for that first year?!"

You process what he just asked you as you plunk down onto one of the seats. Romeo automatically orders one of goons to bring you a drink

"Romeo, were you jealous of me spending time with Ritsu?" You tease, grinning at him

He scoffs "NO! Me?! Jealous of that wanna bs lawyer?! He holds nothing to my beauty!" He rants

You cut him off before this rant can go any longer "Good, because you have nothing to be jealous of. You're the only one for me, the best looking ghoul around"

"Well, good, at least you have some taste"

Late at night, as you're half asleep, he'll whisper his own praises of you and how you're the only one for him too

Taiga Hoshibami

If you've gotten close enough to Taiga that he consistently remembers you to date you, then good luck

This man would range from getting jealous of you even breathing near someone else to laughing at failed attempts to pull your attention away from him

If it's one of his super jealous days then you're in for it

It happens to be one of the rare times he wanders into the VIP room and sees you there with Romeo and he decides he does not want to share you with Lulu today

"Lulu, you should know better than to steal what's mine."

He will casually wander over and just toss you over his over

"TAIGA?! What are you doing?!"

"Kitty cat you're spending all your time with Lulu when you should be spending it with me"

"That doesn't mean you can just toss me over your shoulder and carry me off when you're jealous"

There's no real malice behind your words, you're dating Taiga, you've learned this is just how he behaves

When he tosses you down onto his bed he grins down at you, proud of himself

"Nothing to be jealous of when you end up here Kitty cat" he purrs

He's got you there, and he makes sure to remind you that you're his

[burningcheese-merchant]

I like the fact that the devs agreed and added the parallel that the ancients are all very kind to themselves, even at their worst, how vulnerable they can be. In chapter 10, HB accepts Lily's wrongdoings, and despite the fact that it took her a while to process her trauma, she tries to make peace with her.

Now with the beasts, it's so different because, if you notice, despite having a problem, they don't try to change their ways. That's why most of them don't understand each other; their philosophy clashes greatly. Despite one of them claiming to be very close, in reality, each and every one of them feels so alone. It's undeniable how many people still believe they're close.

It's fascinating to see their parallels. It's good to know they're not close; it's complex and interesting. I want to add about episode 10 i feel outraged by the fact that no one talks about how complex ES's character was the last part of the episode made me cry because i know she only had one purpose when she was created and the fact that HB proposed to her to leave their garden and go with her was the most painful and touched me so much. (seriously my friends asked me if i was okay because i cried a lot LOL) everyone thinks it's an unrequited love, if it wasn't reciprocated HB wouldn't take the time to understand ES and explain to her that the world doesn't have to be perfect like she describes it. it's an episode with a queer tragedy explained in the hardest but sweetest way possible... And the game is from a country that litteraly is a sin to be like this or not good received as well.

All of the BxA r Indeed were pure art but with different narratives as well

Yeah definitely!! I've always loved the parallels between the Beasts and Ancients - not just individually, but as groups. While they both endured equally great suffering, in the end, the Beasts chose the easy way out. They chose darkness and despair. They chose to inflict their suffering onto others instead of properly addressing themselves and their shortcomings. And what's fascinating is that, for a time, the Ancients chose similarly: Golden Cheese succumbed to delusion and hid herself in a fantasy world in order to assuage her grief, Hollyberry abdicated and ran away from her family and her people and her life, drinking and fighting and partying her woes away, Dark Cacao built literal and figurative walls around himself and shut everyone out, Pure Vanilla was an amnesiac for a while, thus technically foregoing truth (albeit not necessarily by choice), then he allowed himself to be a Cookie of Deceit for a while, White Lily... we know what happened to her lol. But they managed to save themselves because they had each other. For each and every one of them, their salvation and enlightenment came when they remembered their bonds with each other and with others they care for. It was that sense of connection and community, which never ever broke despite everything that happened to them. And then opposite to them are the Beasts, who broke apart and descended into villainy because they themselves did not have those connections; not just in reference to them never having had the chance to live as normal people, but in reference to their bonds with each other specifically. I believe now more than ever that they never REALLY cared for each other. That they were never REALLY friends. If they were, why didn't they help each other when they started corrupting? Example, Burning Spice: I believe that what he needed the most was assurance that the cycle of change is not and does not need to be inherently painful or bleak. That there is good and meaning in that endless repetition. What would've helped was him having a constant in his life; someone or something that was always there with him even while everything and everyone else slipped away, as the cycle of change mandates. For all intents and purposes, the other Beasts should have been that constant; they're immortal too. They're gods too. They're his friends. They WERE his friends. Or... were they not? I don't really think so anymore. What the Ancients have together, the Beasts either had a very weak and fragile copy, or never really had at all. IF they were ever friends, they were pretty shitty ones lol. And that's a big part of why they corrupted, and why they're all so bitter and lonely: they each feel as though no one ever understood them or their struggles, not even their supposed "friends". Then these 5 thieves come along and inadvertently give them that lifeline, to which they all react differently (in how they express their attachment, I mean. They're all obsessed but they let it show differently and to different levels), but underneath those differences lies a shared feeling: "oh God, someone finally understands me, someone finally feels what I feel, I can't ever let them go, I need them". It's so horrendously sad and disturbing and darkly fascinating. I love it. I love these pairs, I love talking about them, I can do it forever

And I agree with you that Eternal Sugar is a complex and very interesting character, and I'm disappointed in the people that think otherwise (I hate saying this, but a lot of the complaints kind of sound like they're just butthurt that Eternalberry was canonized and they're looking for any excuse to tear the update down because of it). She seems to be a step above Mystic Flour in that she really, truly thinks she's doing something GOOD (MF behaves this way as well, but ES is legitimately delusional). She actually thinks she's helping people. Deep down, she DOES understand that she's a bad person and she's only hurting those she claims to care for, Hollyberry included, and this dialogue demonstrates such:

She seems to have succumbed to a form of insanity above that of other Beasts; she is still clinging to her old desires to carry out her godly duties and make people happy, but her perception of such has become so warped that she actually thinks things like keeping people in jars forever is making them happy. Furthermore, she purposefully orchestrates situations that "prove" her mindset and ideals correct (allowing people to leave the garden if they wish ("see? I'm not controlling! I'm not desperate! I'm not a dictator! You can leave, it's ok!"), but having them leave while smelling like the perfume that permeates the whole area so Beast-Yeast monsters are drawn to and attack them, thus forcing them back into the garden and further convincing them that it's a safe haven and they belong there). So much confirmation bias with Sugar, it's crazy. SHE is crazy. She is LEGITIMATELY crazy, a sort of crazy that the others aren't, not even Shadow Milk. It is delightfully awful. She is delightfully awful

And oh... Holly... Holly and Sugar... Passion and Sloth... Them...

One begs the other to stay... The other begs them to wake up and leave. Holly is now the second Ancient to fully, directly express understanding and sympathy towards their Beast. She's now the second to fully, directly state that she wants to be with their Beast.

She's HAPPY at the prospect of them being together. Of being two halves of a soul. She would GLADLY complete Sugar and let Sugar complete her... but Sugar has to wake up first. She has to see the error of her ways. She has to leave her garden. And Sugar agrees to this. She probably didn't really mean it, she was probably just swept up in the Yuri Wave and saying what she thought Holly wanted her to say, but even so. I think it's meaningful. Out of all the Beasts, I think Sugar has the best shot of being redeemed. And she has just the right Ancient to help her with such a thing. (Tbh I think they can all be fixed. Not easily, not right away, absolutely not. It would take time and effort and a lot of very painful conversations and realizations on everyone's part. But I think it can be done. Each of them has shown that one little seed of doubt, of regret, of disillusionment. Each one of them has faltered, if only for a moment. Because of that, I think somewhere deep down inside of them is someone worth saving. But that's just me haha) Beast x Ancient is 5 different, delicious flavors of a beautiful and compelling tragedy and they kill and resurrect me several times a day

[ild-rllrcstr]

The Second Seat part 4

Lando Norris X You (female driver) / slight angst / 2.3K

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 5

Summary You worked your way up to Formula One, contracted with McLaren, defying all odds. You play the team game: humble, strategic, and willing to follow orders, even if it means sacrificing podiums so Lando Norris can be the world champion. Every lap you sacrifice, every time you hold back, the world starts to doubt your talent. Lando sees it all. So he makes a choice: to give you the race, the recognition you deserve, and maybe his heart. You came for the drive, but you stayed for something more.

Warnings swearing A/N This series is going a little longer than I expected, just really feel like building the emotional tension more, and ended up writing too much that I have to split this last part into part 4 and part 5. But just a heads up, it'll be really intense emotionally in part 5. It'll come tomorrow then I'll come to the requests on Friday!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

The last race of the year, Abu Dhabi. The desert heat was softer this time of year, warm but forgiving. The sunset was already brushing the edges of the circuit in gold. Your suit clung to your skin with a familiar weight, the last time this year it would.

Since Monza, McLaren has finally released you from the position of assisting and has been taking you more seriously. You are finally starting to earn more points, although always been nearly getting on the podium, but you felt a lot more yourself. You and Lando have been closer than ever, without the frustration. You were both enemies but each other’s support, you talked about each race, how you could do better with each turn, the settings and strategies. 

Before the preparation, you walked the quiet McLaren hallway, lunch bag in hand, and stopped outside Lando’s driver's room.

Two gentle knocks. “Come in.”

You pushed the door open, peeking in. “I brought lunch.”

Lando glanced up from his tablet, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Define lunch.”

You grinned, pulling out the chicken teriyaki pineapple wrap. His face broke into relief seeing the wrap with his name on it.

“I don’t think there’s anyone on the team who doesn’t know, you picky eater.” you teased, handing it over. 

He gave you a mock glare. “I’m not picky, it’s just a ritual, I stick with what works.” 

As he unwrapped the food, you sat down across from him, letting a slow exhale escape your lips.

“Last race,” you murmured.

He chewed, nodded. “Been a ride, hasn’t it?”

You nodded but he sensed your doubt.

“You’ve been doing well, little by little, you’re getting there. I think I need to tighten up my seatbelts next year.” He smiled at you, reassuring you.

“Let’s make it a hell of a last ride, I bet I’ll see you on the podium today,” he continued, taking a huge bite of his wrap.

“To be honest, I’m not that confident about today,” you sighed. You just felt extra anxious, you’re period is probably close, it’s taking a bit of toll on your emotions.

A pause passed between you.

“You know what?” he said, eyes lighting up, “I have a bet.”

You tilted your head. “Oh god.”

“If you make it on the podium today, we're going on that ski trip. On me. You’ve been whining about snowboarding long enough.”

You blinked. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “Hotel, amazing food, gear, private instructor. All of it. Hell, I’ll even carry your skis.”

You started to imagine it. “Having the world champion carry my skis?”

“Having the world champion carry your skis.” He nodded, glad that he was getting you motivated.

You paused. “If I crash and break something?”

“We’ll strap you to a sledge and I’ll tow you down myself.”

“Sold.” both of you smiled. But your heart was already racing, not from nerves, but something else. Something hopeful.

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The lights went out. 

The first laps were tight, the kind of clean chaos that only Abu Dhabi delivered. Max took an early lead and held it with the kind of cold precision that made him untouchable on good days.

But the real fight brewed behind him, between you, Lando, and Carlos. Turn after turn, the battle for second was ruthless. DRS zones were brutal, the tires screaming under the weight of the fight.

Lap 50, Lando managed a brilliant undercut after his pit stop. You followed two laps later, rejoining just behind Carlos.

“Y/N, remember Turn 11, it’s your chance, you got this” Your engineer’s voice crackled through your ears.

You knew it.

You could feel it in your hands, every hour in the sim, every compromise you made all year, every lap holding your breath behind strategy. This one was for you.

You braked late, forced the car inside with a narrow line, and took the turn without fear. It was unexpected, Carlos could’t fight it. Not this time.

You went through five more clean turns, then hit hard to finish the lap with Carlos 2 seconds behind. You concentrate on the papaya car 2 seconds before you, like it’s guiding you through the rest of the laps, although behind Lando, you kept a good pace.

Before you know, you drove through the waving checkered flag, and the crowd rose to their feet as three different-colored helmets crossed the finish line, seconds apart.

Max in P1. Lando in P2. You are in P3.

“P3, Y/N. Incredible work.” Your engineer shouted in excitement on the radio. 

You didn’t scream. You didn’t cry.

“Thank you! It’s been an amazing a year! I’ll always remember it.”

You exhaled, one deep, bone-shaking exhale that felt like a season-long weight finally peeled off your chest.

You climbed out of the car, and Lando was already waiting for you.

“Told you,” This time he said it up close.

“I need to stop hearing that whenever I get on the podium.” You laughed, shaking your head, eyes shining.

“Then you just have to stop doubting yourself, then I’ll stop.” He hugged you tightly, and you hugged back. You were too thrilled to think.

“You'd better start packing for the ski trip.” He winked at you before both of you ran to celebrate with your team. 

Everything went on so fast, but this time you were not as lost as the last time. Having Lando there with you helped. You climbed the steps to the podium, the air thick with fireworks and champagne mist. Lando stood already, grinning widely at you as you approached.

Max held his trophy high. Lando’s was heavier. It wasn’t just second place, it was the confirmation of his World Championship Title.

You took third, your second podium, this one sweeter, because it came from your own hands, not strategy or luck. Your trophy gleamed under the lights. In the stands, you spotted a sea of papaya flags, but also signs with your name. Girls in the crowd held banners, wearing your merch, waving as though they’d known you forever.

The champagne shower got more intense than the last time as Lando, the king of champagne showers, dumped almost the whole bottle on you.

Later, as the engineers prepped for debrief, you walked side by side with Lando through the paddock.

“You did it,” you told him, looking at him with his trophy. “World Champion.”

He nodded slowly. “And you got on that podium. Again. You earned this, every bit of it.”

You nudged him. “So when are we leaving for the mountains?”

He laughed. “Soon. But I’m not carrying your skis if you bring the entire paddock with you.”

“Although I do enjoy working with them, I think they’ll enjoy not having me chasing behind them with my data for a while,” You joked, intently raising a bit of volume. Those around heard and laughed. 

You both stood there for a moment, helmets in hand, looking out at the night sky.

There was a comfort now in knowing that next season, you weren’t just his teammate or his Plan C. You were the other half of the story.

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The mountains were quiet, wrapped in layers of snow and the kind of silence that only winter could provide.

Lando kept his promise: a ski trip, all on him, after Abu Dhabi. He even booked a luxury chalet with views of the Alpine peaks. But what didn’t you expect when you arrived?l

Carlos and Rebecca. They were already there, snow boots by the door, jackets slung on chairs, mugs of hot cocoa in hand like they owned the place.

You blinked. “Uh…?”

“They invited themselves,” Lando muttered as he dropped your bag at the door.

“We’re here for moral support. Also, to make sure this doesn’t end up in tabloid headlines as a ski-date scandal,” Carlos grinned, raising his mug. “You're welcome.”

Rebecca winked. “Plus, I needed a break.”

“You’re still carrying my skis, right?” you asked Lando, pretending to be nervous.

He laughed and nodded. 

It was a smart move. With Rebecca and Carlos posting group selfies and tagging each other on Instagram, the world assumed it was just a harmless off-season hangout. No gossip. No suspicion. No rumours about you and Lando spending a week alone in the mountains.

You were...relieved. But the little disappointment was understandable.

The first two days were filled with snowball fights, ski lessons, and the sort of warm, stupid laughter that only happens when you’ve survived a full F1 season together.

Lando taught you how to snowboard, or tried to, at least. He was unusually patient, his hands sometimes staying on your waist just a little longer than necessary to balance you. You wore his oversized jacket when yours got soaked, and Carlos gave him shit about it the entire afternoon.

You all shared meals in front of the fire, Carlos playing music from his speaker, Rebecca roasting him for his playlist, Lando stealing bites off your plate when you weren’t looking. Everything was perfect.

But as the days went on, something started shifting beneath the surface.

It was the fourth night. Snow was falling softly outside. You were bundled in a throw blanket on the balcony,  sipping mulled wine alone, enjoying how peaceful it was. Lando stepped out to join you, silent, holding his own mug.

“Cold?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Not really.”

You looked at him — cheeks pink from the cold, hair still a mess from the snow earlier, lips slightly chapped. He looked at you the same way he had from time to time for the past few months. Like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how.

The silence stretched.

“You’re a bit different,” He said quietly.

“How?”

“You’re… lighter. Happier.” He paused. “More you. And I like it. I like seeing this version of you. Even if it means I’m not the centre of the universe anymore,” he joked.

​​You smiled softly into your mug. “I don’t think you were ever the centre of my universe.”

Lando laughed under his breath. “You used to look at me like I was.”

You turned your head slowly to look at him. “Maybe I did. But that wasn’t fair to either of us.”

He nodded, eyes fixed on the falling snow. “It’s weird… I wanted you to shine, you know? I want you to win, take up space, be the headline. But when you do, part of me…”

He cut himself off, shaking his head like the thought betrayed him.

“What?” you asked, quietly.

He glanced at you, lips parting, struggling. “Part of me wants to be the one standing next to you when it happens. But…”

Your eyebrows raised slightly, and he caught himself.

“Uh, now I sound stupid…” he muttered, he sipped his wine to cover it.

You stared at him, something shifting in your chest. You wanted to say something, but before any of it could leave your lips, Carlos burst onto the balcony with a scarf half-wrapped around his head.

“Come inside! We’re starting a movie, and Rebecca won’t shut up unless you pick the snacks!”

Lando exhaled and stood. “Saved by the Spaniard,” he mumbled.

You lingered as he walked back in, shoulders slumped, mug cradled against his chest like a shield.

Your mulled wine had gone cold.

So had the moment.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

A little after the new year, a surprise invite arrived in your inbox — from Lewis, inviting you to be his guest at the Met Gala, something about celebrating the technology, futuristic and speed of fashion. He wanted you to be his guest because he believed it was important to have you to represent as a female thriving in sports, especially Formula One, with everything is being about the technology and speed. 

He also clarified: “It’s not a date. But you deserve that spotlight. You belong in the room.”

You didn’t say yes immediately. You almost texted Lando about it, but something in your gut said not to. Why should you ask him about it? On the other hand your PR manager immediately said yes.

You worked on the outfits with Lewis and the design team to really cultivate everything and not just show up looking pretty. 

When the photos dropped, it was chaos.

You, in a stunning custom gown, small details paying tribute to your Monza and Abu Dhabi win, elegantly showing the power in your femininity. Lewis, sharp as ever, beaming beside you on the carpet. Vogue called you the “New face of motorsport fashion.” 

Back in Europe, Lando was at Carlos’, it was early morning, they were having breakfast and they planned to go golfing. Rebecca was on the couch watching the news. The screen lit up with photos of Lewis and you, arm-in-arm on the carpet, laughing and posing.

Lando, mid-bite, froze. He couldn’t look away. He knew you left right after Miami to somewhere in urgent, but you left in a hurry, and he didn’t have a chance to ask you.

You two haven’t really had serious talk about the conversation during the ski trip.

On that red carpet you looked… powerful. Radiant. Untouchable. And you weren’t smiling like you used to. Although still a bit shy, you looked like you knew your worth now.

Carlos, beside him, sipped his coffee with a smirk.

“You okay, mate?”

“I’m fine,” Lando muttered.

No one believed him. Not when his jaw clenched like that.

Rebecca added, half-joking, “Looks like Lewis knew what he was doing.”

Your Met Gala appearance exploded over the media.

But what caught attention even more?

Lando’s silence.

No congratulatory tweet. No repost. No comment. Nothing.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

[theshipsong]

perona x f!reader, polyamory with heavy mihopero. canon au where thriller bark joins cross guild. reader is a navigator formerly of the hawkins pirates.

⸺

"This is pretty." Perona brushed your back with her fingertips, her breath landing on your shoulder from where she laid next to you on the plush rug. "Seems fated."

"I don't believe in fate."

(She wouldn't appreciate hearing that Mihawk said the same thing about the not-quite Maltese cross between your shoulder blades.)

"Funny you say that."

Perona was a bizarre contradiction of possessive over both of you, from each other. She simultaneously envied that Mihawk met you before she did, and that the sex you had with him was more varied than her time on Kuraigana.

If she actually deigned to talk to the swordsman, he'd confirm that you two were better described as friends.

But Perona was spoiled, and didn't want to share yet wanted so many things and people all at once. You found it mostly endearing, but sometimes you had to negotiate your way out of her tent to have a moment alone or with Crocodile. Last time you'd actually tricked her, leaving her tied with thick, velvet black ribbon and an extracted promise, through gritted teeth, that she'd stay still and good.

After that, you managed to sleep in your other lover's arms for the first time in a week, and Perona started creeping out to join you in the mess tent. She was growing fond of Buggy, or rather she enjoyed teasing the clown in a way that was only barely kinder than Crocodile's flavor of torment. Sadists, all of them.

Perona rolled onto her back, stretching like a cat and fighting a yawn, which brought her own tattoo to your line of sight: a pink bat, impressively saturated. You set your book down to return the gesture, poking at the ink.

"I got it when I didn't know whether Moria-sama was dead or alive," she offered freely.

Your brow furrowed. "Does he... like bats?"

She laughed her odd laugh. "You'll see him fight soon enough."

You didn't know if the man with the twin of your tattoo on his neck was alive, either. The remains of Thriller Bark joined Cross Guild just days after a Marine hospital ship dropped anchor in sight of Karai Bari, carrying an undercover captain who confessed to you he left Hawkins for dead in Wano Country. Ironically...

"Moria challenged Kaidou once," you said neutrally.

"Before I joined him," Perona confirmed. Her life was fascinating to you, really: she'd been a pirate longer than not, the doted-upon daughter of a Warlord of the Sea who patched her plush toys together with sutures. Cotton thread in recent years, though. Mihawk mended his own clothes.

"Does he talk about it at all?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare."

"Because it's a sore subject," you said understandingly.

"No." Perona sat up. "Because he's around Crocodile's age." You laughed, a full belly laugh that had you turning onto your side. "I'm serious," she said hotly, chucking a throw pillow at your back as she scrambled up onto her bed to sulk.

"Perona," you said, getting your breath back. "Even I have a size limit."

"Ew!"

You pulled yourself up beside her, and spotted your knitting you'd taken to walking around camp with, forgotten on her bed since your little tumble on the floor. "Look at this." You held up the sock you were knitting for Crocodile and his absurdly cold feet. "It's practically a baby sweater."

"I would prefer if you said you won't fuck my dad," Perona whined.

"That's really up to him."

She shrieked wordlessly, hiding her face in her yet-unidentified stuffed animal briefly before glaring at you over its head.

"You're really similar," Perona said eventually.

"Moria and I?"

"You and Mihawk."

Crocodile said the same thing, in fewer words. "Does he also threaten to fuck your dad?"

"You're both annoying."

"Hmm." You grabbed the forepaw of the stuffed animal closest to you gingerly, between your thumb and forefinger, like you were batting at one of her shiny curls. "You're easy to get a rise out of. Maybe Mihawk finds it adorable, too."

"Wish he'd say so," she mumbled.

"He's quieter than me, at least. Or," you mused, "I'm used to impassive men."

"Huh?" She didn't need to say that Crocodile had quite the repertoire of scowls that was comparatively easy to interpret.

"Don't you think you should try talking to him, at least?" you tried. Crocodile could not understand what Mihawk did to upset Perona so much without you breaching your girlfriend's, and really his boyfriend's privacy, so you spoke in hypotheticals.

"Say Cross Guild was being targeted by the Navy," you said, to which he snorted.

"They wouldn't dare."

"Say they did, and we were all scattered. Buggy took his men and fled."

"He wouldn't dare."

"If I found out my previous captain was miraculously alive, and you loved me, would you really let me run off to him instead?"

"Well, you wouldn't be safe with that twit."

Infuriating man.

"I already said everything," Perona sniffed.

"He's not the most confrontational. Which isn't fair," you conceded, "but he's probably afraid of hurting you more. Or getting hurt."

It was still unclear to you exactly what the nature of their relationship was, but Perona described sounded serious and almost idyllic in its domesticity, and without a lick of her usual exaggeration. If anything, she was embarrassed to share how vulnerable she'd become.

Now she was a hissing and furious and lonely. If Perona wasn't so greedy, you'd fear reconciliation meant her forgetting you, but you saw how she hoarded and took loving, if sometimes roughshod care of her toys. It was in Cross Guild's interests for Mihawk to get his head out of his ass, and soon.

[leapyeap]

an austin butler/callum turner primer, maybe

hello comrades

the past few days i've really been itching for some new content (preferably of the two of them together but i unfortunately live in reality so separately will do) and i've decided to be the change i want to see in the world. so behold. a primer of sorts.

the sheer delight in each other! it gets to me! (kiss)

first things first, who are these guys?

austin butler

austin (born august 17, 1991) is a california girl through and through. he has an older sister named ashley butler and a bff named ashley tisdale (you're all familiar). he was discovered at 13 and immediately took acting SO seriously. i'm just going to link his esquire article here, because it's honestly required reading and they go over pm his entire life. from painfully shy home schooled baby austin to losing his mom at 23 to coughing up blood after filming for elvis wrapped. a quote:

When Butler wasn’t working on bringing Buck Cleven to life, he toiled away at finding Austin. “I was just trying to remember who I was,” he admits. On set, he had a dialect coach whose main job, he says, was to help him stop talking like Elvis. But the whole Masters experience feels like a blur to him now. “I hardly remember filming that,” he says. “Almost the full year that I was in London.”

FASCINATING. callum in the mud tbh. stop the primer, austin doesn't even remember that man.

and then there's this paragraph that just makes me laugh because honestly, what a little weirdo:

Austin Butler has a funny habit. Rather than fill a natural lull in a conversation, or the space between questions, with words, Butler fills them with—and I’m not kidding here—smiles. Eyes lock. Lips curl. It is impossible not to return the expression. But then you’re just two people, sitting in the back booth, smiling like idiots at each other.

smiling because he doesn't know how to answer a question! making it a whole performance! he is so deeply in his head all the time!!! i wanna crack him open like a walnut and study his brain!!! seriously, read the esquire article and then come back.

anyway, moving on.

callum turner

callum (born february 15, 1990) is a chelsea boy who was raised as an only child by a single mom on a council estate. he often talks about growing up right next door to some of the most expensive real estate in the world, and the huge wealth disparity between him and his classmates. his mom sounds like the coolest person in the world - she was a club promoter when callum was a kid and boy george coming over wasn't an uncommon occurrence. a quote:

Turner’s mother ran nights at London clubs including the Ministry of Sound, and fostered her son’s early interest in film (he cites Billy Elliot as a childhood favourite). She had wanted to be an actress, but hadn’t had the chance. He credits her with his performing gene, and his chutzpah. “She instilled this belief in me that if I wanted to do something, anything, I should go for it. Although she was also always saying, ‘Get a trade. Become a plumber.’ And I’m like, ‘No. I don’t want to be a plumber. I want to be a footballer.’ I didn’t want the safe option. It’s nice to take risks.”

spoiler alert: he didn't become a footballer, but he IS sad about that. i just love how he talks about his childhood and growing up:

‘Oh, I know them all,’ he says of his coterie of fabulous London acquaintances by birth. ‘The thing I always find interesting in my childhood was, yeah, I was growing up on an estate, single mum, working-class, but then I also had all these colourful characters around. It wasn’t about navigating two worlds,’ he says. ‘There were three, four, five more.’

and a last one about his childhood:

Turner was raised by his mother, a “brilliant woman” who worked as a nightclub promoter during the New Romantic movement in the Eighties. Her job meant an eclectic mix of characters from across the London club scene were constantly passing through Turner’s front door, with some even living with them when he was a child – “The father figures were a lot of different gay guys, basically.”

this is explained in detail in all the linked articles but he signed as a model at 17-18 and travelled the world a bit for burberry, comme des garçons, etc, having to lose like 6 inches off his waist bc the fashion industry is evil. if you ever wondered "damn, he looked so skinny in his modelling days", there's why. after that he worked at dover street market (a cool high fashion clothing store, i am told) for a couple years while trying to make it as an actor.

just including this because it makes me laugh tbh

in the independent article he also talks about being a big stoner and self medicating with weed for a good few years because he "was dealing with a depression or a frustration".

I was acting, doing films, and smoking weed every day. I never smoked on set but as soon as I got home, I was like a real addict. I definitely missed four years of my life.

including this because he seems like such a happy go lucky guy, but he's got his own demons. in a different interview he also talked about trying out therapy, and his mom retrained as a therapist as well. i'm a big fan of the turners.

anyway, that was too long, on to:

callum & austin

(so sorry to nate and anto for the crop)

in february 2021, austin was supposed to fly from australia (where he'd just wrapped on elvis after working on that for 3 years straight) but instead his body gave out and he was hospitalised and bedridden for a week. either during this period or after he flew to the uk and was doing his 10-day covid quarantine, callum sent him a first voice note, and austin replied in such an elvis voice that callum was like we're past that babe:

Butler and Turner exchanged voice notes after Elvis wrapped, just before they were set to start shooting Masters. [...] “It was like a voice note from Elvis, you know,” he says. “And I just sent him a message: ‘Elvis has left the building.’”

i'm sure he thought that was very funny. if i think about the voice note period too much my brain starts to conjure up too many scenarios so let's move on. to bootcamp!

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mr presley you're doing such a great job

they spend the next 10 months filming together. they bonded right away and seem to have spent quite a bit of time together:

The two bonded, spending downtime walking Turner’s dog, or grabbing a meal on a Sunday. “Austin and I have a very special relationship,” he says. “It’s deep, and it’s profound. I’ve made friends through the years that I love. And there are people that you work with, and have a great time with, but they don’t necessarily become your friend. You still love ’em. But Austin’s my friend.”

genuine friends!! and obviously these quotes are from the mota press tour in january 2024, more than 2 years after filming wrapped, so we can assume they've kept in touch, despite austin's phone allergy.

also at some point nearing the end of filming callum, austin, fionn o'shea and mustafa the poet went to see... something idk. this was posted october 2021, if someone wants to sleuth and tell me lol.

and this is where i introduce ruthie rogers. you may have heard austin and/or callum mention ruthie in interviews before when they talk about their weekly sunday roasts. maybe, like me, you assumed she was someone from the mota crew or a previous project that they'd befriended, but you'd be wrong, she is in fact the owner of the river café in london, which has a michelin star. lol. here's a quote from an interview with ruthie herself:

Rogers, whose Italian nonna-ness extends to her home, tells me how she hosted a group of actors that included Austin Butler and Carey Mulligan for supper for 39 consecutive Sundays following the loosening of lockdown rules. “Everyone was away from home and their families so they would come to me. They would help me cook and then we’d play cards. It became a sort of tradition.”

39 consecutive sundays! carey mulligan! okay! that's fine, i don't desperately need to know who else was there or anything

here's a podcast between austin and ruthie where she talks about the weekly dinners in her intro but sadly it doesn't come up during their conversation. it's a sweet listen though, they're clearly close and he calls her family.

and this is irrelevant to everything except it's so fucking endearing:

A WhatsApp message sent by the actor Callum Turner may have also landed on the industrious phone. “He sends me his Wordle score every day,” Rogers explains. “A sweet boy.”

a sweet boy! so true, ruthie

here they all are in september 2022, when ruthie hosted a party at the river café in honour of elvis being released. you've probably seen pictures of this event because austin basically unbuttoned his entire shirt and callum looked like the most supportive boyfriend.

like that's just a family portrait i'm sorry.

and speaking of supportive boyfriends, in december 2023 austin came out for a new york screening of boys in the boat too!

(austin are you okay) (is this the reason callum told austin to smile at the mota premiere)

alright so we've made it to january 2024, when mota comes out and the press tour starts. we immediately get hit with this gem:

Turns out the pair had hung out at Butler's pad and watched the Golden Globes one night earlier. Just the two of them. No glamorous girlfriends, no entourage befitting two major stars on the rise. "We were just going to go out and have dinner, and then we decided to do something relaxing at the house," Butler says. "So we ordered food, lit a fire and had a romantic little night in."

romantic little night in... probably the first time they had a night to themselves since filming ended... girl the possibilities

another quote because i can't handle how much callum turner loves austin butler:

"And we were just unbelievably kind to one another from minute one. I guess we just teased each other and looked after each other simultaneously. It was beautiful working with him. He’s such an incredible actor, and I learned so much from working with him, and as a man. Some days, I would go just to entertain Austin. If I didn’t make him laugh, I wasn’t doing my job. He was such a safe place, and I hope he feels the same with me, because we just loved each other."

"if i didn't make him laugh, i wasn't doing my job." 🫠 callum, say so much less. if you'd like to see them love on each other in video format, boy do i have the clip for you:

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K I T H.

if you wondered if callum knows he's being sappy, yes he does. he knows and he can't stop because he needs the world to know too, i guess!

i might as well stop here or i'll end up linking their entire press tour, but i just want to leave off by saying i think they're very neat, and i love that they're so different in some ways and so alike in others. the obvious extrovert vs introvert dynamic, where callum acts as a social buffer for austin, and makes him feel more at ease, but vice versa callum's also said that austin's presence on set made him comfortable taking big swings. it's about the give and take, the yin and yang!!

and they obviously share a huge love of movies and their craft, and they're competitive losers, they had to make their own way in the industry, they're beloved by all their castmates, etc etc.

in conclusion: they're in love. i hope you learned something and if not i hope you at least liked seeing it all compiled. thank you for coming to my ted talk, i love you like austin loves grabbing callum's shoulder

[queerical]

i believe part of the reason tag replies became common was becuz back in the day, as you'll recall, adding a comment caused each comment above it to "stack", with all those lines coming down from urls (idk the actual terminology for that style of conversation formatting) which could make posts difficult to read, so it was considered common courtesy to not add a comment unless it REALLY mattered.

personally, that has somewhat informed how i do reblogs and tags today. if i believe what i have to say is is truly valuable to the conversation and i actively want other ppl to see/react to it, i will reblog with a comment.

otherwise, my "tag essays" are, in fact, FOR ME (and for any followers who read all my tags), since i routinely re-read posts on my blog. they aren't meant to be replies or to continue the conversation, they are just my own thoughts on the matter that i want to share without becoming part of the conversation.

if they "pass peer review" and get added, i'm flattered, but i'm not bothered if they don't. if i was bothered that what i had to share was not included in the post, then i would have added it as a comment.

personally i "overuse" tags becuz i find it fun! if a post gives me thoughts and i want to get them out but i don't want to engage in a dialogue or i don't think my thoughts add to the dialogue, i can put them in the tags. if it's a silly text post and i want to go on at length about a random anecdote that's semi-related but i don't want everyone who follows someone who reblogs that post from me to see it, i can put it in the tags!

i do also use tags for their organizational purposes, but i actually think "tag essays" are fun, and i also think it's fun to decide if someone else's tags are worth adding to a post or if someone decides mine are.

tl;dr: if i want to be involved in the conversation or i feel what i have to say adds something to conversation, i reblog with a comment. otherwise, i use the tags as an extra "whisper space" for my own enjoyment and that of my followers.

[a further thought i just had becuz i remembered the original topic of this thread: i think conversationality on tumblr was partially harmed by how the reply feature was changed. back in the day, if someone made a comment on your post, hitting the reply button made it into a whole new post! then they could comment on that new post, and when you replied, it made another new post, etc.

in this way you could carry on a (generally) easy to follow conversation with more than one person based on a single starting point, and other people could pop in if they wanted. then staff took that away. and if people wanted to talk, they had to start a reblog chain that would grow longer and longer and which their followers would repeatedly have to scroll past.

eventually they gave us comments/replies back, but in its current form (altho without the threading) which made conversing with even one person extremely confusing. they did eventually give us dms, but that could feel far more intimate than just replying to a public post and having a semi-public chat, which i'm sure stopped some people from using them for conversations they might have otherwise had.

you CAN still do replies the old way if you have xkit, but it seems to me that most people don't. if i comment instead of reblog, it's with that old way in mind. i want to talk, but i don't feel a desire to have the post on my blog or have that conversation in front of all my followers, i want it to be between me and OP.

if it's someone i don't know well, i'd feel awkward going to dms, and even if i do know the person well, tumblr isn't consistent on informing pp that they have a new dm. so i comment and see if they reply, but i don't like it.

This is probably because I am Internet Old (41 years of age)

And because I grew up with message board/forum/blog/LJ culture...

but it seems like many younger people do not want to converse; that any response other than 'THIS' - anything that reflects, responds, adds, comments upon, etc a post is seen as adversarial/disagreement.

I'd love to have a conversation about this trend, especially as it relates to tumblr, which USED to be a much more conversational website than it currently is.

replies vs. reblogs definitely exacerbated this hugely; the tiktokification of 'person who creates content' and 'person who consumed that content' rather than 'human beings having a conversation'.

[tubborucho]

Hey, guys, here is a fic for you all :D

Honey, I know, hey, when we walked arm in arm I felt like we can throw away the falseness of our past

5 times Pangi and Lukey's friends were confused of the nature of their relationship,

and 1 time everything became clear as day.

•*~ 1 ~*•

The thing is, Aimsey really really tries to not think of it as more than it is.

When Lukey and Pangi stare jokingly into each other’s eyes, giggling, for the first time on stream, they accept it as a bit and move on. Because obviously it is a bit. Both Pangi and Lukey are straight, and are just good friends, who play it up a bit for the viewers. Aimsey has seen this happen many many times, and probably will see more, because heterosexual cis men are incapable of not being fake-horny for each other for more than 10 seconds when it comes to streaming.

So Aimsey doesn't think anything of it. Until the stream is long over, and even most of the people left the gang, it's quite late, and they are just hanging out at a random bar.

Pangi looks at Lukey. Lukey looks at Pangi. Aimsey looks at them both quizzically, because they just stare at each other like that for a good 10 seconds, while both of their faces melt into smiles.

Which is… well, okay, he guesses there is nothing wrong in completely platonically staring at your friend. After all, it is their first day hanging out irl, and they are a bit tipsy so…

It happens again an hour later.

They are going to their respective hotels, which are not too far apart, Tertel, Zam and Derap in the front, lazily chatting about nothings, Aimsey is in the middle, just chilling.

They look back to tell something to Pangi and Lukey, and immediately shut their mouth, met with a view of those two just silently walking not even five centimetres apart, glancing at each other and smiling.

Right…

•*~ 2 ~*•

Out of everyone in the group, Tertel probably spent the most time alone with Pangi and Lukey due to him rooming with the former.

So it is not surprising that he is also one of the first to start noticing some… interesting developments between the two.

It started completely chill and nonchalant. He was there when Pangi and Lukey met for the first time in real life, and it was sweet. He himself got to become quite good friends with Lukey, so it was a very nice moment. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He was also there when those two successfully translated their clingy online dynamic into being attached at the hip offline.

He was also there when they held hands for the first time.

Now, admittedly, he thinks he was not supposed to see this. It happened early in the morning, when they just met up to go back to twitchcon, waiting for the rest of the gang. Tertel left to get his charger that he forgot in the room, and returned a few minutes later.

Pangi and Lukey do not notice him walking towards them. So maybe that's why he gets to witness how Pangi, completely engrossed in whatever conversation they have, absentmindedly takes Lukey’s hand in his and squeezes it gently, lingering. Lukey smiles brightly, and they laugh at something, before Pangi slowly lets go of the other’s hand.

Tertel blinks. Well, that was certainly very intimate, but what the hell, sure.

He waits a few seconds before calling out for them like nothing has happened.

•*~ 3 ~*•

“Look at those two”, Derap grumbles, nodding towards where Lukey and Pangi sit next to each other in the restaurant their group is having dinner at. “Do they realise there are no viewers to queerbait for?” he jokes quiet enough only for Zam to hear.

Zam looks at Pangi and Lukey as well.

They are sitting close to each other, talking about something among themselves and Aimsey and Ros, who sit across them. He can't see their arms from here, but judging by their positions, it almost feels like they are holding hand secretly under the table.

“Has Pangi talked to you about that?” he asks seriously instead of joking. Lukey says something with a smug smirk on his face, and Pangi almost beams from amusement.

“No”, Derapchu shakes his head. “I am genuinely confused with whatever they have going on though. Like, what the hell?”

They both watch how Pangi reaches out to wipe with his thumb a drop of sauce from the bottom of Lukey's chin. Lukey leans into it and definitely makes some sort of a quip, judging by the joking exasperation on Pangi’s face.

Derap looks at Zam. Zam looks at Derap. Both of them decide to look somewhere else, away from their best friend and his platonic friend.

•*~ 4 ~*•

Pili is, probably, the only person in the friend group, who did not have any illusions about Pangi and Lukey from the beginning.

It took him one minute of seeing those two next to each other to have a voice in his head go ‘those bitches gay, good for them, good for them’.

That doesn't mean, however, that Pili leaves them be like that. Oh no. Not at all. If he does something the best in his life, it is poking and prodding his friends.

So he teases, he makes jokes, plays up Pangili bit for the camera and flirts with Lukey as well just because. Off camera it's mostly random remarks that make both of them way too defensive, and Pili finds it incredibly amusing.

But even he has his limits, and maybe even he underestimated the sheer power of the crush those two have for each other.

Lukey sits on Pangi’s lap. It's a joke, to spite Derapchu, who was grumbling about them making him homophobic, and everyone giggled, watching those two play up their interactions for their friends, while Zam and Derapchu groan.

Pili watched them, and groans as well. Not for the bit.

Lukey sat on Pangi’s lap as a joke, Pangi wrapped his right arm around him and made a kissy face as a joke.

What decidedly is not a joke, is the way Lukey relaxes, leaning on Pangi, like he doesn't plan to leave. What is NOT A JOKE, is how Pangi's left hand finds its way on Lukey’s knee, softly caressing it with his thumb.

“I am going to actually kill myself”, Pili says tiredly, and everyone laughs again, and everyone thinks he is joking for the jealous dramatic bit. He is joking, but also completely serious.

(Lukey meets his gaze, and looks almost sheepish. Pili hopes his facial expression translates both ‘I will kill you in your sleep’ and ‘Dude, stop cockblocking yourself, go for it’).

•*~ 5 ~*•

Woogie does not notice anything for the longest time.

He jokes about Pangi and Lukey being gay for each other with everyone else, obviously, but that's all it was for him. 100% jokes, he did not stop and analyse even for a second. So maybe being unaware is the exact reason he is in this situation.

At some point most of their friend group started finding reasons to separate from Lukey and Pangi, give them space and leave them alone. Now, Woogie didn't get that memo, so he kept happily accepting all the hang out invites. Joining on their banter, being behind the camera on their streams and so on.

Nothing special, nothing of notice.

But even he is not completely blind.

It's been half a minute already of Lukey and Pangi hugging each other.

They were saying goodbyes before going to the hotel for the night, and Lukey is still staying at another place, even if not for long. So Pangi convinces Woogie to walk Lukey to his Inn, and now they need to go as well.

It's a very very long hug.

Pangi practically wraps himself around Lukey, and Lukey is quietly speaking something that Woogie is not privy to. They are both smiling, blushing (because of the wind and the alcohol they had? Maybe).

He clears his throat. They don't hear him. He clears it louder, and only then Pangi almost jumps away from Lukey, startled.

Like he forgot Woogie was even here to begin with.

“Um, yeah, anyway, bye, guys, see you tomorrow”, Lukey says hurriedly, waves, and almost runs away into his hotel.

Pangi watches him go with a weird expression on his face.

Then he turns to Woogie, who is, honestly, stares at him.

“Not a word”, Pangi says in a tone, that was probably intended to be threatening, but sounds pathetic instead.

Puzzle pieces connect in Woogie’s head, and he laughs.

•*~ +1 ~*•

Half of the Amsterdam gang agrees to meet for breakfast.

They sit in a nice bistro, there is a big table, that is enough to fit all of them, and the food is good too.

So everyone is enjoying their morning, when Pangi and Lukey walk inside to join them.

Shit goes down immediately, because Pili takes one look at them before making an intraslatable high-pitched sound, dropping his head on his arms and groaning:

“I will kill them and then myself”.

That is enough to have everyone else pay closer attention to the two red as lobsters guys.

There is a very obviously attempted to be hidden hickey on Lukey’s neck.

“What the fuck?” Derapchu is the first to react. “What the actual fuck?"

That is a push that gets everyone else start speaking, while Lukey and Pangi hide their faces in their hands from embarrassment.

“There has been a… development”, Pangi says awkwardly, not looking at anyone in particular.

“We can see”, Hannah responds with a deadpan.

“You shared a bed for one night. One!” Pili exclaims. “God, give me strength”.

“It's not what happened, we didn't… we didn't do that”, Pangi rushes to contradict.

“We were close though”, Lukey suddenly speaks up, calmer, than anyone would have expected from him. Pangi turns to look at him in shock and just gets a soft smile in response.

“No details, please”, Bacon raises his hands up. “Spare us”.

“I guess… congratulations?” Zam says, a bit unsure, but genuine. “Happy for you, guys”.

Other people nod in agreement, and Tina sing-songs:

“Be who you are”.

Lukey puts his head on Pangi’s shoulder. Pangi smiles and draws him closer in a hug.