#Chili's Chat: Asks

[baby-yongbok]

sub x sub smut is all i can think ab tbh!

like subby you and chan omg 😵‍💫

Good For You - Bang Chan x afab!Reader

✧ Content warning - Unprotected sex, creampie, anal toys, established relationship [MDNI] ✧ WC - 1.1k ✧ a/n: I think that sub x sub is interesting and that Chan fit this really well. My second choice would've probably been Han or Felix. Maybe even Hyunjin. Even thought Chan fit it well this was a bit of a challenge. I hope I did it justice! Thanks for the request! (*^_^*) ✧ Masterlist ✧

Most couples wear matching hoodies or sneakers. They’d buy bracelets with similar color schemes but you and Chan had a different idea. 

 “Baby..” He whimpers while the butt plug you bought vibrates inside of him. You found a cute couples set, pretty and pink with a cute heart shaped jewel on the flared end. 

“Channie..” You whine, fighting with his jeans to free him. “Hol’ still please.. Need..”  

He squirms against the mattress beneath him, the plug working wonders against his prostate and making his cock leak sticky strings that you lick up hastily. Your own plug is going at full speed, pushing you closer to the release that Chan has been trying to tease all night. 

Your boyfriend pulls you up from your spot between his knees with a huff, “No.. no no wanna suck your cock..” You protest and Chan cuts you off with a sloppy kiss on the corner of your lips. 

“Please just let me fuck you, need to fuck you, baby. I’ll be your good boy if you’ll be my good girl, please.” He pulls you into his lap and your hips buck at the contact. Your heads fall back, your breathing stutters as you paw at each other's bodies greedily. 

“I’m your good girl.” You moan, bucking your hips over him. Your pants found their way to the floor as soon as you two got home and your panties went somewhere with them. 

“Fuck, I can’t … you’re gonna make me cum..” His sentence breaks somewhere in the middle. His voice falters like his self control while you rub your slick bare cunt over his pulsing length. You grind over the head, rolling your hips in circles that makes you clench around the buzzing plug with a pathetic curse. 

“I’ll be so good, Channie, please..” His grip on your hips tightens, his eyes shut tight and his hurried breathing betrays him, getting caught in his chest when the head of his cock catches on your entrance. 

“Baby, let me fuck you, please please please.” Chan’s glassy eyes struggle to focus when he opens them to plead with you. “Ride me or - or I’ll ride you, please, anything..” 

His pleas mix with yours while you beg for the same exact thing. “Yes, yes, please..” You grind up and his cock slips inside. You share a fucked out keen and Chan’s fingers dig into your hips while yours press into his shoulders. 

“Fuck, move.. I need you to move or I’m gonna bust just like this, please..” Chan looks and sounds like he could cry. The plug pressing against his sweet spot is nearly painful with pleasure and when you move, bouncing over him just how he likes it, the plug fucks into him and his eyes roll back.

You’re no better, filled in both holes and seconds away from bursting at the seams. You can feel Chan’s thick cock rub up against the plug, you can feel the way he twitches with each wave of vibration that surges through you and you can feel your clit throb with pleasure from your impending climax. 

“Don’t stop, Don’t stop, you’re such a good - good girl f’ me..” His words are choked and the air is crowded with whimpers but his are significantly louder, overpowering your breathy whines with heady grunts and pathetic groans that only fuel the fire burning hot in your core. 

He meets you with a thrust each time you bounce over him, his rhythm falters and he bucks up. You swear that you can feel him in your stomach. You fall forward and he holds you tight, squeezing you and fucking up into you faster to chase his own high. 

“Channie, baby, feels so.. good. Please don’t cum yet, please don’t stop yet..” He whines, his hips stuttering again. 

“Need to cum, baby, need to..” His words are nearly incoherent when he speaks through clenched teeth. “Wanna make you feel good, wanna be your good boy but.. But..”

You clench around him and the both of you fall apart. Your orgasm dangles in front of your face, your clit pulses from the traveling vibrations of the plug and your boyfriend's intense climax only makes it worse. 

Chan melts beneath you, squeezing you to his chest and panting like he’s been underwater for ages. His cock twitches and pulses while he fucks you through his high. His movements are fast and choppy while he’s rambling in your ear.

“M’ sorry, sorry - fuck, s-so tight… so good, please cum.. I’ll make you cum, I’ll be your good boy.” His arm wraps around your waist and his hand cradles the back of your head while he moves you over him like a doll. A glorified flesh light designed just for him. 

“Yes, yes, yes, thank you. Look at me, please.. Wanna see you, baby.” He tries to pull back, tries to look you in the eye but the overstimulation of this messy cocktail has his glassy eyes hiding behind his lids. 

“Too much..” He bucks up harder and you’re seeing white. Everything seems to vanish as the pleasure seeps in and takes over. You scream, tears rolling down your cheeks as you chant a chorus of “thank you’s” to him. While you’re falling apart on top of him, Chan is being milked dry. 

He groans, it falls into a pathetic whine like he’s crying for you while his sensitive cock twitches inside of your swollen walls yet again. Your full cunt makes room for the new load by pushing your limits, making you leak around the base of his cock. 

“F-fuck, too much.” He whimpers while you ride out your high with fat tears streaming down your cheeks. You feel the overstimulation too. You feel the vibrating and pulsing and leaking. “Senstive, my dick is fucking… shit… baby, baby, get off..”

He lifts you and you whimper. His cock falls forward, his cum leaks from your stretched hole. His dick is red, swollen and pulsing and pretty. You straddle his thighs, watching his cock jump while leaking over the toned and taut muscle of his stomach. 

Your plugs are still going at high speed and he clenches around it. “I’m gonna k-keep fucking cumming if you don’t turn that off…” He doesn’t sound as opposed to it as he tries to seem. You look up at him with big eyes, blinking at him with an insatiable urge to empty him.

“I’ll be your good girl if you’ll be my good boy..” Your voice is soft yet strained from the earlier screaming and Chan curses. He squirms, looking down at you with eyes just as shiny as yours. Just as needy as yours. 

“I’m your good boy.”

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@wealwayskeepfighting

[eternalsunrise]

when in france

nfl! joe burrow x fem! reader

wc: 3.1k

tags! established relationship, college sweethearts (because i said so), 💍 hint hint, no smut!

notes! abby try not to write sickening fluff challenge failed horribly. i keep going back and forth about whether i like or not but i hope you guys do! mwah 💋

when joe told you he’d be attending and modeling for fashion week, you were ecstatic. you’ve been encouraging him to step out of his comfort zone, and it seemed like he was finally listening during this offseason.

when he told you the event was in france, you were even more stunned. you were so excited for him. there was no one more deserving of these opportunities than your joe.

and when he asked you to accompany him, you were absolutely floored. sure you knew he loved you. you’ve felt it every day for years. but an experience like this, you were so grateful he’d even consider sharing this with you.

“are you sure? really babe it’s okay, i won’t be upset.” you had reassured him the day he found out about the opportunity.

joe just looked at you like you had three heads over his dinner, his fork clattering as he dropped it onto the plate. he reaches his arm across the table and clasps your hand with his, “hey. don’t be silly. you’re my girl. there’s no one, and i mean no one, i’d rather do this with.”

there’s something about joe’s soft, steady voice that always reassures you in the way he knows you need. he places a delicate kiss to the back of your knuckles. you don’t worry about it again.

your time in france is an absolute whirlwind. joe had warned you that his schedule was pretty packed, but you didn’t mind. after all, you’ve grown used to the hustle bustle of football season. nothing like the fast life. dinners, meetings, panels, runways, and parties. you’re supporting joe through it all, and he notices. hell, everyone notices.

the first dinner you all have together is after a runway show in cannes.

you’re chatting with a woman sitting next to you, laughing and sipping a glass of white wine. joe is on the other side of you, catching up with JJ and some of the other guys. of course the topic has reverted back to football, hard to avoid with those two at the table together. JJ and another friend are in a heated discussion about the rules surrounding taunting when the food arrives.

when the plates hit the table, joe watches your actions from the corner of his eye. you pick at your side choice, before putting the smallest bite into your mouth. reaction almost immediate, you turn to joe with a grimace that he knows all too well.

he clicks his tongue, shaking his head back and forth as he begins to eat his own meal, “i told you. i knew you wouldn’t like them cooked that way.”

you did this every time the two of you had dinner somewhere new. you like to order something you’d usually never try on the menu, in hopes of enjoying it. and joe, who knows you better than anyone, always warns you against it. then every single time, you flash him an adorable smile and say the same thing, “well, when in___”

this started when he brought you to ohio for the first time. the two of you were having lunch in cincy before heading to athens to meet his parents. you inquired about ‘cincinnati chili’, to which joe explained and confessed that even he didn’t enjoy chili served over spaghetti. but you had said “well, when in cincinnati!” with such excitement, that he didn’t have the heart to argue further.

the hometown specialty almost made you puke all over his childhood bedroom hours later. flash forward some years and the song and dance was still the same.

you shake your head, trying to lie. you’re stubborn. the last thing you want to do is admit he was right about this…again.

you attempt another bite, poking the food around your white, porcelain plate. “it’s not that bad joey…i kinda like it…”

you’re lying through your teeth. joe knows. he always does. the man has been reading you like a playbook since college.

so with a sigh he picks up both of your plates, making easy work of switching them. this is also a reoccurring affair. joe always orders something he knows you’ll enjoy, pretty much expecting you not to like your exotic choices. he never tells you this of course. but he’s not picky, so no harm no foul.

you frown down at your new dinner, as much as it looks delicious, you feel bad taking your boyfriend’s food. “no joey you don’t have to do that. i’ll eat it i swear!”

joe just gives you an affectionate eye roll, tapping your thigh a few times under the table, “eat baby.” he gently commands, picking up a fork and beginning to eat your rejected meal. his hand lingers, and you intertwine it with yours, leaning over and placing a sweet kiss on his cheek. you murmur a thank you against his skin, joe hums in response.

unbeknownst to you both, the people across from you were tuned in to the entire exhange. sharing amused glances with JJ, who just shrugs, “they’ve always been like this.”

the two of you resume eating, when the man across from joe speaks up in an amused tone, “so how long?”

joe looks up, confusion written on his face, “excuse me?” he swallows a bite and decides you’re right. this isn’t good at all, but he’s gonna eat every bite.

the man chuckles, sipping his drink. “sorry i didn’t mean to pry. it’s just, you two remind me of me and my wife early on in our marriage. i just assumed you must be newlyweds.”

the words catch your attention and your eyes turn into saucers. newlyweds? did the two of you really act married? the idea of being joe’s for life, officially; your stomach twists in lovesick knots. sure you’ve definitely thought about it. after all, you’ve been by his side for almost 5 years now. but you didn’t know where joe stood when it came to life long commitment. the idea that he might not want that with you, is sorta frightening. you don’t have time to overthink it though, a couple of ladies pulling you back into busy conversation.

justin gives joe a knowing smirk. he holds a hand up and wiggles his fingers, pretending he’s wearing a ring. an action he used to do back when joe would ditch them to hang out with you after lsu practices.

you’re so preoccupied you don’t notice joe’s hand playing with yours a little later into the meal. he takes one of your daily rings off of your index finger, slipping it onto the special one next to your pinky. he twirls it around a couple times, smiling fondly.

the rest of your days abroad pass in pictures of time. you and joe eating croissants early in the morning. sneaking kisses in your hotels elevator. joe asking if he had anything in his teeth before walking in a backless suit.

“were you planning on smiling on the runway babe?” you teased.

joe just shrugs, “maybe. it’s hard not to when i know you’re watching me.”

before you know it, it’s the vogue world after party, marking your last night before returning to the states. the night is lots of fun, full of mingling and laughter. although…there’s something up with your boyfriend. you’re not sure what, but he seems almost anxious. it’s usually out of joe’s character to be antsy, they call him joe cool for a reason. he’s been fidgety, bouncing his knee up and down every time the two of you were sitting. he’s quiet, but still sweet to you in a way that’s reassuring you that he’s okay. you blame his odd behavior on exhaustion, or maybe his social battery draining. maybe even the strobe lights are giving him a headache, which is bittersweet because they make his blues shine so well.

it’s well past midnight, and you’re sitting on joe’s lap wearing a black dress that compliments his outfit. you’re chatting with some people while

your boyfriend sits silently. you have no idea, but his mind is running a mile a second. one of his hands is wrapped around your waist, the other twirling stands of your hair that sit against the back of your dress. his heart thumps against his chest as he uses his leverage against you to raise himself up. he takes a deep breath, and leans his body forward to reach your ear. “you wanna get out of here?” deep voice rumbles from his chest and tickles your ear. it makes a shiver run up your spine.

you turn your head to look behind you, your noses are almost touching this way. the loose curl sitting against his forehead is begging you to brush it away. you resist the urge.

“sure babe, if you’re ready?”

joe looks at you with a look so full of adoration you think you might melt. he presses a quick kiss to your lips, “i’m ready. i already called the car.”

paris is stunning late at night, lights twinkling across the city. joe watches you stare out the cab window. he looks at you the way he has all night, full of love and an indescribable devotion. you’re so mesmerized by the landscape you don’t even notice you’ve passed your hotel until joe clears his throat.

your eyebrows furrow in confusion when joe turns your head to face him. “do you trust me?” the question is serious, but his voice is kind of rocky. like he’s nervous. but what for?

you nod your head with a laugh, “of course joey. why?”

joe smiles and deflects from the question. “alright. close your eyes for me then.”

now you’re really confused. you tilt your head at him, watching as the smile remains on his face. he’s really waiting on you to close your eyes. well, you choose to honor you words, closing your eyes tightly. you’re guessing a surprise is in store.

you feel the car slow to a stop. your hands drum on your lap, anticipation building in your gut.

joe places a hand on your thigh. “don’t get out yet, i’ll come around and get you.”

you nod your head, eyes still clenched to prove your honesty. you hear a car door shut and footsteps coming closer.

joe takes a deep breath, crisp night air filling his lungs. a shaky hand grips your car door, pulling it open.

you hear joe thank the driver, before he gently takes hold of your hands. he guides you to stand and step out of the car. you hear the cab drive away and your heart thumping in your ears.

the warmth of joe’s hands covers your eyes, making you laugh. whatever this surprise is, joe’s pretty adamant in not wanting you to spoil it.

you begin walking forward at joes command. “we almost there?”

you feel your body turn to the right, and suddenly the presence of his hands disappears.

“alright. open em’” he backs away from you, hands shoved into black pants.

you open your eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the lights blinking all over the place. you gasp at what’s in front of you, your eyes trailing upwards. “joe…you…”

he grants you a chuckle, eyes crinkling in the way you adored. “you didn’t think we’d leave before i let you see the eiffel tower did you?”

you just stare at the beautiful structure in front of you, trying to convince yourself it was real. there’s something so breathtaking about being in front of something you’ve only seen in photos.

joe is staring at you with the same fascination that you’re giving a wonder of the world. 5 years and you still make the confidence flee from him. you take his breath away simply by being well, you. he’s been a nervous wreck all day. but staring at you right now, in the middle of paris. he’s never been so sure of anything.

you’re rubbing your bare arms, but the cold isn’t even bothering you.

that doesn’t matter to joe. he slips his charcoal jacket off, draping it over your shoulders. you feel strong arms around you, a comfortable warmth covering you. joe rests his chin on your shoulder, turning and placing a few kisses on your cheek. his nose cold against your skin, but you still welcome the contact.

a content sigh escapes you, “it’s so stunning, isn’t it? there’s something so romantic about it.”

joe nods, but to be honest he’s barely even glanced at the tower. he calls your name, his voice cracking is like a bullet shooting through his ego.

you turn to face him, a grin on your face. “i know i keep saying it but thank you. thank you so much for bringing me here.”

joe’s response doesn’t miss a beat, “i’d take you anywhere. i want to take you everywhere, show you the world. that’s what you deserve.”

the sincerity of his words coupled with the setting make your heart soar. suddenly he unravels himself from you. you turn around to face him confused. you open your mouth to question him but he interrupts you by grabbing your hands, squeezing them with his own.

“i love you. i’ve loved you for 5 years and somehow i still love you more each day. you’re the best part of me. you make me a better man, and i wanna be that man for you, always.” joe’s voice is strained as if he’s getting emotional. it’s so rare to see from him. the fact that he’s getting choked up over you. his love for you nonetheless, you feel your own throat tighten. you feel your eyes well up with tears. joe brings your intertwined hands to rest against his chest, his heart pounding in a way he’s sure you feel. the night air sweeps his hair around, that single curl waving at you.

“the first time i thought you to ohio, i saw howmuch my family loved you…and i realized something.”

that was only 6 months into your relationship. a spring break in march that joe wanted to spend with his family. he asked you to tag along and although you were petrified, you agreed. you’ve never felt nervous around his family after that, quite the opposite actually.

suddenly joe steps back from you, a hand reaching into his pocket. the implication of what’s happening makes your mouth dry up. it’s like you’re frozen, just staring at him with wide eyes.

“i–i went out and got this as soon as we got back to baton rouge. i’ve held on to it all this time….and i brought it with me because i thought well, when in france. right?” joe tries his best to keep his voice steady, a nervous chuckle escaping him. and sure enough, a little black, velvet box appears in his hand.

a hand flies to your mouth, and you look around as if a camera crew is going to appear and tell you you’re being pranked. but alas, it’s just you, joe, and the eiffel tower.

“joe….” the tears are definitely flowing now, silently down your face. you couldn’t believe your eyes. this was really happening. right now. in paris at almost 2 in the morning.

you watch as joe gets down on one knee. he tries to tame his trembling hands as he opens the little box, but to no avail. the quarterback that is usually so collected, has crumbled down to mush that you hold in the palm of your hand.

joe perches the box in between his hands, early morning moonlight dances across the diamond ring.

he breathes your name like a prayer, “i meant what i said. i would want to do this. or anything, with anyone else. i want to be yours forever if you’ll have me. so angel, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

joe flashes you that boyish smile that you fell in love with all those years ago. it’s then that you realize it isn’t just joe kneeling before you.

it’s the handsome transfer student from ohio that asks you where bronson hall is. it’s the boy that invites you to watch him play football, and forgets to mention he’s the new star quarterback. it’s the guy your friends ask about when you’re blushing at brunch. it’s the teary eyed heisman trophy winner who thanks you in his speech. it’s the cincinnati bengal who trusts you decorate the new apartment you share together. it’s the guy that plays catch with your younger family members at thanksgiving. it’s your boyfriend that invited you to france. it’s your joe.

this is the easiest question you’ve ever been asked.

“yes. oh my fucking god! a million times yes!” you exclaim, heels clicking the pavement as you jump up and down a couple of times. you’re confused when you look down and see joe still kneeling below you, his grin rivaling the city lights. then you realize, you don’t have the ring on yet. “oh fuck which hand is it?!” your brain is so frazzled, you just stick both hands out toward him.

joe gently grabs your left hand, ring perfectly slipping onto your ring finger. he admires it for a moment and places a kiss on your knuckles.

he’s standing up straight for less than a second before you’re pouncing on him, throwing your arms around him. you pull his neck down toward you, crashing your lips together in a bruising kiss.

joe returns your affection quickly. hands find home holding your face, thumbs dusting away tears. this kiss is different than any you’ve had in the past. it’s a seal. a promise. a sign of your devotion to one another deepening after tonight.

the two of you stay like that for a moment. so caught up in one another. the anticipation of a lifetime together makes you feel as light as a feather.

the two of you break away with sharp inhales, crisp air filling your lungs. you remove your hands from his neck, instead grabbing his in your own and giving a laugh at their state, “babe. you’re shaking.”

joe nods, tongue darting out to lick his lips. he gives your hands a squeeze. “yeah well. good thing i got you to keep me steady.”

the ride back to the hotel is full of giggles and light touches. the ring on your finger is like a magnet to your eyes. you can’t look away, even as joe is extra affectionate; kissing all over your cheek and the side of your neck. you’re so full of love it feels hard to breathe.

“hey joey?”

your boyfriend fiancée pulls his head back to look you in the eyes, “yeah, pretty?”

you put your now ring clad hand on joe’s chest. he looks down at it with a smirk, before meeting your eyes once again.

“what do you think about that backless suit for the wedding?”

[erosmutt]

　⯌　𝘽𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡　⨟　𝗝. 𝗞𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘆, 𝗦. 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝗿𝗼𝗲, 𝗦. 𝗕𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿

〣 ﹒▨﹕CONTENT WARNINGS﹒foursome, incestuous activities, free use undertones, objectification, somnophilia, double penetration, degrading, face slapping, pussy eating, bukakke, large age gap (James is 46, Scott is 21, Sam is 20, reader is 19).

┄﹒WORD COUNT﹒⤹ 4,152

BNUUY'S NOTES┆Finally, the long awaited fic! Part of the "Partnered Up!" series, which is a series of fics where all the characters are paired up and are with reader. The first installment is this one! Titled after a Red Hot Chili Peppers song. Originally, I was going to title it after a Rob Zombie song, but here we are! I'm so excited to share this with all of you. Eat well my loves!

≻ㅤ﹒ㅤlet's have a coffee together!ㅤ﹒ㅤノ

"You're welcome over anytime y'wanna be, sweetiepie."

You snap out of your daydream, lifting your gaze. In front of you stood your best friends' dad, James, a spatula in his hand. The kitchen was filled with the scent of seasoned beef, the familiar sizzle in the cast iron skillet on the stove a comforting sound. Your eyes rake over his broad shoulders, his waist, and down to the curve of his ass in his dark blue boxers. His jeans rest low on his hips, barely held up by his butt. Man, he really needed to invest in a belt.

Right as you open your mouth to respond, the sound of heavy boots hitting the creaky floorboards accompanies the sizzle of the patties James was flipping. "Hey dad, hey babes." One of James' two sons, Scott Kelly, greets the two of you as he sits a hefty 30-count case of beer on the kitchen table. His brother, Sam Kelly, was scrolling through his phone as he nodded to you. "What’s up?"

Scott's hand slams down onto the top of the large case of beer. "Found a new flavor. Peach Busch." He grins triumphantly, while Sam snickers, shoving his phone into his pocket and sitting down in a chair next to you. "A girly drink." He sticks his tongue out at his brother, making the blond sneer. "Go fuck yourself." He mutters, tearing the flimsy cardstock handle to reach a can.

James kills the heat on the stove then tosses the spatula down onto the counter. "Watch your fuckin' mouths, alright? Jesus," he shakes his head, gathering the condiments - barbecue sauce, ketchup, mustard, mayo, and an assortment of other burger toppings - then he sets them down onto the counter. "Now sit down and hush so we can eat."

Sam licks his lips as he gets up, grabbing a few paper plates off the top of the microwave. "Huh," he hands everyone a plate, then plops down in the creaky kitchen chair, making it scrape against the dirty linoleum floor. The four of you join hands and a quick prayer later, you all take in the assortment he cooked. "So," his father begins, cracking open a beer. "How's it been goin' babygirl?"

You look up at him, in the middle of squirting ketchup onto your hamburger. "Uh, what does that entail?" You ask with a lopsided grin. Scott shrugs. "The usual, you know? Like, I dunno, any boyfriends or somethin'?" His baby blues flick up to glance at you before focusing back on his dinner. "You coulda made the fries last, Jesus." Sam mutters from next to you before taking a massive bite of his burger, brows furrowed as he hums in satisfaction.

After chatting, hot beers, and dinner, the four of you were piled on the couch, watching whatever movie you caught on TV. James had his socked feet kicked up on the busted up coffee table, his arm around you, the stench of cheap cologne and potent motor oil clinging to his skin and clothes. His hand caresses your shoulder, fiddling with your sleeve, squeezing, tracing shapes. Your eyelids flutter closed, feeling heavy. James looks down at you. "Sleepy, babygirl?" He pulls you closer up into his side. "Snuggle up buttercup." He chuckles, ruffling your hair affectionately as he removes his arm from around your shoulders to put it around your waist, large hand resting on your stomach.

As the movie goes on, Sam and Scott end up on the floor, playing UNO, oblivious to their father and best friend up on the couch. James' hand slips up your shirt, rubbing over your soft tummy, over your womb. His dark gaze falls on you, eyes half-lidding as he rubs over your warm skin, your stomach distended with all the dinner you ate. "Sheesh..." He whispers to himself, teeth gently digging into his bottom lip. 

He'd be absolutely lying to himself if he tried to say he didn't have dreams about you full and round with his baby. Disgusting, he knows. He's pushing 50 years old, his knees creak when he gets up after sitting awhile, he has to be in bed before 10pm or he'll get pissy - he has zero business wanting to knock up his young sons' barely legal best friend. You kept him young, kept him on his toes, kept him wanting to keep up with the times. He'd do nearly anything to get just a glimpse of your teenage pussy. Oh, he could already imagine how tight, how warm, how wet, how -

"Dad!" Scott's grating voice snaps James back to reality. He looks down at his son. "What?" He hisses, rubbing his hand over his dark stubble. Sam turns around and looks up at his dad, then at you, then back at his dad. "Wanna play cards with us?" He asks, waving the cards as if tempting James. You stir out of your half-asleep state, then you smile, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. "Mmm, UNO?" You move away from James, standing up. You turn to look at him and hold your hands out, giggling as he lets out a heavy sigh, taking your hands and rocking back and forth before using you to get up off the couch with a groan that makes your stomach coil. "To the kitchen. I ain't gettin' down on that damn floor." James says, making his way to the kitchen. You follow as Sam and Scott gather up the cards.

"James?" Your voice calls, your hand resting on the door frame of James' bedroom. He groans, opening his eyes to look at the digital clock on his nightstand - 2:52AM. He turns his head to look at you and waves you into the bedroom. "Mm, what's wrong dollface?" He sits up, rubbing his hands over his face. You make your way over and sit down, a pout on your lips. "I can't sleep. Sam and Scotty are up playing games." You go quiet. James listens, and the resounding sound of his sons’ joint bitching at the TV reaches his ears. He rolls his eyes and licks his dry lips. "C'mon, you can lie with me." He pats the mattress. You climb into his warm bed, and once the two of you are settled in, the only sounds that grace you are your breathing, the muffled voices of the boys in the living room, and the rhythmic clicking of his rickety ceiling fan above the bed.

"Usually you're out like a light." James comments. "Well, 'least you used to be able to sleep through anything. Guess that changes when you ain't a kiddo no more." He says, a warm hand rubbing your arm to soothe you to sleep as he did when you were little on nights you would sleep over, when you would come crying to him about a nightmare. Even now, all these years later, it was incredibly endearing to him. The way you suckle around nothing and end up sleeping on your stomach. That wouldn't do if you were pregnant, though.

Throughout the night, James found himself unable to sleep. He had a raging boner, his cock aching, boxers nearly sopping with pre from all the leaking his tip had been doing. You had your cheek pressed against his shoulder, your arm draped over his doughy middle. He stares down at you in the dark, the moonlight streaming through the dusty blinds helping him see your parted lips as they catch the pallid glimmer.

James brings his hand up and rubs his thumb over your bottom lip and the corner of your mouth, collecting the drool that accumulated during your peaceful slumber. He brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks the drool off it, his eyes fluttering closed and nearly rolling back in perverted satisfaction. Removing his thumb with a gentle 'pop,' James rests his hand on your side, beginning to rub up and down, up to the side of your chest then down to your hip. "Christ," he whispers, digging his fingers into your flesh with a gentle squeeze. He finds his way into the side of your camisole, calloused hand rubbing over your breast and soft nipple, thumb caressing the bud.

He was at a really horrid angle, his joints beginning to ache already, but he deemed it worth the pain to be able to grope you in your sleep. James' other hand goes down to his crotch, slipping into his boxers and grabbing at his velvety shaft. After hearing noise he stopped for a second, then went on, rubbing his thumb over his damp tip, assuming the boys were packing it in for the night.

"Dad?" Sam's voice calls, and right as James snatches his hand out of his boxers, the bedroom light flickers on. He stares at his sons, his hand still around your soft, fatty breast. Sam's lips part as if to comment, and Scott just stares at the print of James' hand through your thin navy blue camisole. Oh, he was fucked.

“Um, are we interrupting something?” Scott finally comments, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. “We came to see whose bed she wanted to take, or if she wanted to stay in the living room. For fucks sake…” He sneers, and his brother watches, fiddling with his labret as he watches his dad slowly retract his hand from your top.

Sam's big blue eyes travel down to your now exposed stomach, blinking silently. "Hey hey, calm down," James coos, pushing himself up into a sitting position, unintentionally making you stir awake. His cock strains against his soft boxers, tip threatening to peek out from underneath the fabric scrunched around his thigh. "She can stay in whichever one'aya's bed she wants. No need to fuss." He says, and you lift your head to look at the twins, returning Sam's slow, cat-like blink. "Huh?"

With a disgusted scoff, Scott turns on his heel, his hand resting on the wood of the doorway as he readies himself to leave. "I can't believe this." He mutters, walking out and down the hallway. Sam took a moment before making a move to leave, though, but he soon followed his brother, disappearing down the hallway.

Left in a tense silence, neither you nor James commented. Just sat, oddly content, until he spoke. "I know you might think this is gross," he begins. "But... do you mind helpin' me out, babygirl?" He asks, and the two of you make eye contact, his gaze pleading while yours was surprised. "James," you murmur, your hand finding his hairy thigh. "I can try."

You make your way between his thighs, your hands resting on either side of his penis. “Can you show me what to do? I’ve never seen a guy’s thing in real life before.” You admit, examining his cock curiously. When you wrap your hand around it, a bit harshly, James hisses. “Gentle, dollface, gentle.”

“Here, slow. Slowly. Up and down. Yeah, just like that.” He watches, a smile coming across his face. “You got the hang of it already.” So, you began to stroke him, getting a feel for it, taking in the warmth, the scent, the texture, the way his shaft twitched in your grasp. You watch as his hands fist the sheets beneath him, his nostrils flaring as he nears what would be his first orgasm of the night. With a shudder, James comes undone, warm semen spurting onto your hand. “Oh.”

“You’re a natural,” James pants, his hand coming up to brush some wispy hairs away from your face. “Good job sweets. My boys are missin’ out.” He grins lazily, then falls back onto his pillow with a sigh.

You get up and adjust your top. “I should get to bed.” You make your way over to the bedroom door, and as soon as you open it, Scott and Sam stumble in sideways. Those little creeps, they had their ears up against the door, listening in. You yelp in surprise, and step back from the door. “What the hell is wrong with you two?!”

Scott’s eyes go from your face, to your cleavage, then over to his dad’s exposed cock, then back up at your face. “No fucking way his jizz is on your hand right now.” Sam chimes in, glaring at your hand with contempt. Overcome with embarrassment, you look down at your sock-clad feet, eyes tracing the checkerboard patterned fabric. “Are you listening to me?”

You and Scott were so preoccupied that neither of you noticed James come up behind you, hand coming to rest on your shoulder, his dick still out of the confines of his boxers. “It ain’t somethin’ to be ‘shamed of, you know.” He reassures, caressing your shoulder as he looks between his twin sons. “I never got to give y’all the talk, did I? Maybe now’s a good time, yeah?”

Scott was a bit more enthusiastic than you anticipated. Sam, on the other hand, seemed more hesitant. Though judging by the tent in his shorts, he was far from unaffected. With a deep breath, you settle down onto the bed, the boys on either side of you. James stands in front of you three, his cock noticeably hardening. “What the fuck,” Scott whispers to himself, meanwhile Sam was shifting around, trying to relieve the friction in his bottoms.

James begins pacing, starting his impromptu sex ed lesson. “It’s not a weird thing to talk about. Sex is how we all got here. ‘S a natural thing.” He reaches down and tucks himself back in, thankfully. “It’s not just a way to make life, but to pleasure yourself, too. Everyone likes it.” Their father turns and looks between his sons, then his eyes settle on Sam. “Especially you,” he points. “You think I don’t hear you?” He then looks at Scott. “You? Don’t even get me started on the shit I hear you watching.” The blond raises an eyebrow, parting his lips to bitch back when James goes on. “Both’a’ya think she and I are disgusting for doing shit like this when really, we not. You just ain’t mature enough to get it through your heads that you two not the only ones that think with their dick.”

Sam looked especially uncomfortable now, doing his damndest to not make eye contact with any of the others in the room. “Then give us a hands-on lesson if you give so much of a shit.” Scott quips, making everyone look at him. Realizing his mistake, he widens his eyes. “Wait! I’m fucking with you, I’m fucking with you, I’m fucking with you!” He rambles, making you snicker, until Sam finally chimed in. “Can we?” He asks. The other three of you turn to look at Sam, his cheeks reddening a deeper shade.

“Fine then,” James says, making his way to the bed. “Lay down sweetpea.” He urges you, gently pushing your shoulder, a silent instruction for  you to lay back. “Usin’ you for some edjumacation, just relax dollface.” He smiles, and you make a noise of confusion as he runs his hand over your stomach. “Watch boys,” he instructs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. He tugs them down, your thighs jiggling as your hips plop back down onto the bed. 

You can’t help but feel embarrassed, you were being put on display for a less than ideal anatomy lesson, and the two boys you’d called your best friends since you could remember were staring at you like they could just devour you. The room fills with the nervous laughter of the two others as your body unfolds before them, eager to learn the intricacies that make you so unique. Your stomach was revealed first, followed by your thighs. As Scott giggles, you flush, feeling a sudden heat fill your face.

With your underwear the only thing keeping your intimate parts hidden, James gives a shit-eating grin to his audience, who tap their feet and shuffle in anticipation. James then hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and gives a swift tug down, revealing your fat, squishy mound and puffy pussy lips, soft and inviting. The sight of your hidden treasure causes the boys’ eyes to widen, taking in every detail of your body.

Your cheeks flame with mortification, an uncomfortable mix of embarrassment and arousal. The twins sat gazing at your exposed body, their eyes raking it in all its glory. You shudder, goosebumps forming on your skin as you sense their unabashed curiosity and lust. Pleased with his handiwork, James steps back, hands resting on his hips. “Go on, you two always were hands-on learners anyways.”

Scott, on your left, reaches out and touches your breast, his palm cupping the mound, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. You were overwhelmed with humiliation and pleasure, which was only amplified when you felt someone between your thighs. When you lifted your head to look down, you saw Sam on his knees before you, lips inches away from your pussy. “There you go, touch on ‘er.” James encourages the boys before taking a seat on the bed to your right, his large hand coming to rest on your stomach. “You’re such a trooper babygirl.”

You felt heat coursing through your veins, and you were unsure whether to be disgusted by the incestuous display or to just continue going with it. The feeling of being stripped of your dignity and autonomous power left you in a state of confusion, but your stomach coiled with a twisted thrill that came with the degradation. “Eat ‘er out, Sammy.” Scott tells his brother, sitting up straight. He swings one leg over your body and straddles your chest, then pulls his sweatpants down enough to remove his cock comfortably. His musky shaft bounces free before hitting you in the face. “Open your mouth- open it,”

You open your mouth willingly, the tip of Scott’s cock gliding past your lips and into the warm sanctuary of your mouth. Your tongue traces the underside of his shaft, sending tremors through his body. James watches in satisfaction as his sons take turns pleasuring you. Scott’s rough, unskilled hands gripping your head to guide his cock into your mouth contrast with Sam’s gentle, teasing tongue that flicks at your clit. As you begin to get into it, the twins sense it, their eagerness increasing tenfold. The blond bottoms out, balls against your chin as he groans, barely able to hold himself up, his thighs tensing. “Fucking- oh my- oh fuck,” he hisses, fully intent on keeping the two of you that way until James had to guide him back out. “Off.”

When Scott and Sam move out of the way, James settles between your legs and with a firm grip, finds your hips and snatches you to the very edge of the bed, his lips meeting yours for a slow, deep kiss. He groans softly against your lips, cock resting on your mound, the taste of peach beer like honey on his tongue.

James breaks the kiss and looks up at his sons. “Fuckin’ hell, Sam, play with ‘er tits.” The teen nods, hands finding your breasts, kneading the flesh gently. He drinks in the sight of the mounds jiggling beneath his touch, the curves and contours calling to him like a siren. “Scott, get under her.”

Scott doesn't waste a moment, his bottoms getting kicked across the room and hitting the floor, joining all the clutter and shit in his dad's room. He maneuvers underneath you, arms wrapping around your middle. “You good doll?” James asks, and you nod, hands on top of Sam's, guiding him to play with your nipples in a way that'll bring you the most pleasure. “Yeah, ‘m good,”

“Good.”

With the help of James’ hand, Scott's cock pushes into you, pulling an embarrassingly loud moan from your lips. “Oh, fuck!” You arch your back and Scott pulls you back down. “Stay,” he whispers hotly against your ear. “Stay right there.” In the heat of the moment, you didn't even notice that James was beginning to push into you as well until your poor cunt was being stretched to the brim. “James! James- ‘s so- ohhh, can't fit it,” you slur, making the man chuckle. “Yeah you can. Cunts are made for this, it's just a lil’ difficult ‘cause you're so young, babygirl.” After a bit of struggle, James penetrates you, your warm walls enveloping him. A guttural moan escapes him as he starts to grind against you, the friction from his son's cock against his paired with your wet heat almost too much for him to handle. “Atta girl, grippin’ me tight.” He smirks, drinking in the moans and cries that came from your lips.

Sam leans down and captures your lips in a soft kiss, much different from the other two on a mission to ravage your poor body. One of his hands tangles in your hair while the other is shoved down his pants, palming his shaft over his boxers. He was waiting, itching to have a go at you.

Your eyes flutter open, hazy gaze meeting James', whose eyes were sparkling with a devious triumph. “You gonna let us cum inside ya sweetiepie?” He asks, moving his hips in a rhythm that compliments Scott's. Since you were stretched so far and the friction was so great, the two of them had to find something that worked.

“Fuck, ‘m close,” Scott moans, his fingers digging into the flesh of your sides, tugging at you. The desperation in his voice is almost laughable. Sam breaks the kiss with a snicker. “Think it’s been like two minutes, dude. Pull out, let me.” Scott nods and does so, his cock glistening with your juices as he crawls out from underneath you.

With everyone out of the way, the three of them looming over you like a hungry pack of wolves, you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. The others join in, the sound of their laughter mixing with the shuffling around. “I can’t even sit right,” you giggle, running your hands through your damp hair.

“I know. It’ll be fine babycakes. Get up.” James grins, turning you over so you were now on your tummy. “Gonna run a train through ya baby. Ready?” He lifts your hips, hands coming to rest on your ass. “Gonna take all of us, yeah?” His sweet talking distracted you from the way the teens were maneuvering your body, putting you in a position they wanted you.

James spits down onto his cock, lubing it up before he pushes the tip of it against your tight cunt. He grunts, feeling the resistance, but he’s determined. With a swift thrust, he breaches you, his cock sinking deeper with each rock of his hips, making your pussy stretch open. The boys, not to be outdone, get to work on their part. Sam guides his cock into your inviting mouth, your tongue swirling around his cockhead while your saliva bathes him. Scott groans, smacking your cheek with his own member, smearing precum onto your skin. “Fuck yeah,” he grins. “Take it like that baby, take Sam’s dick in your mouth.”

“Ghhk- hhg, kkh-” you gag on Sam’s cock, eyes shut as you struggle to breathe. Your body is a mess of pleasure, tits bouncing with every thrust, your pussy gripping James’ cock and your mouth moving up and down Sam’s. Your moans are muffled, but it only makes it all the more arousing. Sam pulls out and his dick is replaced with his brother’s, Scott’s tip hitting the back of your throat. The springs in the old, cheap mattress squeak and creak underneath the combined weight of the four of you.

Scott’s fingers tangle in your hair and grip your skull, being fed off the sounds of you choking and struggling. “Fucking take it, don’t fucking stop,” he growls, teeth gritting. “I wan’ cum on ‘er face,” Sam chimes in, getting off the bed, hand beginning to fist his cock as he waits for the other two. Following suit, James pulls out and so does Scott, the pair pulling you down onto the floor.

You cough, attempting to catch your breath before they get their hands on you again. You steady yourself with your hands on the dingy carpet, getting ready for the facial. “Fuck babygirl, close your eyes and stick that tongue out.” James commands, watching as you oblige. “Oh shit, keep it right there,” Scott pants, and you let out a surprised squeal as your face is covered in sticky sperm. You give an open-mouthed giggle and slowly open your eyes, keeping your tongue out.

It frosted your nose and cheeks and tongue, and your lashes were matted as you looked up at the three of them, meeting their satisfied expressions. Hopefully there would be a second class for James’ anatomy course.

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @addictedtohobi , @102hannah , @emmaloo21 , @vixxensvoid , @ilovekmchenzie ﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @laylaplease , @brooklynb8by , @geekforhorror , @gallerygourmet , @anakinsbbgirl ﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @literally-izzy , @anakinstwinklebunny , @jadegmfu , @bimbo-baggins17 , @thesassypadawan ﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @t03soup , @trippyhippywitch , @valloos , @demieyesore , @piastricentric ﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @s1aywalker , @s1ck-skv1l , @catnipaddictt , @gabsskkk , @slutforfinnickodair﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @realscott , @jediavengers , @enchant5d , @zapernz , @starlmbed﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @offthethirlwall , @tfmerc , @dazednstars141 , @anisluvrgirl , @stepdadjameskelly﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @cocobear18 , @poutypisces , @mugwump327 , @espinathena-17 , @fallout-girl219﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @necromancerrrs , @decaffeinatedunicorn , @speaknow-sw , @lunarnightt﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 .  @jyinnc , @haydenslittlegirl ﹒📧

[toiletclown]

numb, but i still feel it. ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

spencer agnew x f!reader

angst/miscommuncation with a happy ending :3

summary: when your feelings start to be too much, you pull back. but is the pain of being away from spencer any better than the pain of telling him how you feel?

word count: 5.5k

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

“Hey, Y/N, did you want to get food after work? I’ve been craving a triple dipper from Chili’s,” Spencer asked his best friend. 

“Oh, sorry, Spen. I have plans tonight. Maybe some time next week?” She replied, face stoic. She started messing around on her phone, and the space between them grew just a bit wider. Spencer had to force himself not to focus on it.

“Oh. Sure, no problem.” He walked back to his pod, dejected.

That was how it started. She stopped seeing him as much outside of work, then suddenly wasn’t scheduled for games shoots for a week or two. And when she was on a games shoot, their usual bouncy, spitfire interactions just weren’t the same. They had been on a livestream together earlier in the week, with Shayne and Amanda. He didn’t check the chat or comments on that one. Spencer already knew what they said.

Week after week, texts went unanswered, or answered days later. She wasn’t present around the office. Spencer was hurting, but he didn’t know who he could talk to about it. For two months now, their dynamic had become entirely different. And he didn’t know what the fuck he did. If he even did do anything.

He was tired of being tossed to the side, feeling discarded. Y/N had been his best friend for more than five years now, and he hadn’t seen her outside of work in months. He knew he had to talk to someone about it.

After some internal struggle, Spencer decided Courtney was his best bet. Angela was closer with Y/N, but Angela would also be biased. Not that he could blame her, he was biased in Y/N’s favor more often than not, too. It was hard not to be. She was magnetic, her energy addicting. He missed her. Courtney would be more pragmatic, and give some better advice. No shade to Ang, she was a great friend, but he couldn’t trust that she wouldn’t say something to Y/N that would derail their friendship further, unfortunately.

Once Y/N had left for the day, Spencer creeped around the office, trying to catch Court before they left.

“Court! Can I steal you for a second?” He yelled, running after Courtney. They were clearly on their way out, and he needed to talk to them today. She turned around, seemingly surprised to see Spencer. 

“Oh! Hey, Spence. Yeah, can I meet you in your pod in like five minutes?” They were fiddling with their necklace, a nervous habit, and Spencer pretended not to notice. He nodded and made his way to the kitchen to grab a Kickstart. Y/N had already left for the day, and Spencer knew he wouldn’t be able to talk to Courtney if she were still in the building. She’d sense it somehow and find him spilling the metaphorical beans and ruin whatever chance he had at salvaging this.

After standing around in the kitchen for a moment, slightly procrastinating the conversation, he went back to his pod to find Courtney already there. “Oh, hey, I must’ve lost track of time, my bad.”

Courtney stood and walked over to Spencer, putting a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Spence, I love you, but if you’re going to ask me anything related to Y/N, I would really prefer not to get in the middle.”

Spencer deflated, confused. “Uh, can I ask what you mean by that?” His eyes shifted around, ensuring no one was in the hallway or near the door. He didn’t want whatever was happening to be overheard.

“Well, I know you two are, like, going through it right now, I guess. I don’t want to get involved… I don’t want to… take sides or whatever.”

Now he was even more confused. “I wasn’t aware that we were going through it… or that sides were needed?”

Courtney led Spencer to sit down so they could be a little more clear. They didn’t want to hurt Spencer’s feelings, but she might have to be a little mean if it meant getting her point across.

“Spencer. We’ve all noticed something going on with you two. If you two are going to break up we just want it to be amicable, we all love you both so much that–”

“Break up?” Spencer cut them off, his confusion surpassing a new level. “What the fuck do you mean, break up?”

“Well, we don’t want you to! But if that’s where it’s heading–”

“Courtney! Me and Y/N aren’t even dating?” Spencer’s face flushed without his consent.

“But you told us all months ago that you wanted to ask her out… and then you both were so different after a week or two that we all kind of thought you were just toning it down to be, you know, professional.” Courtney looked embarrassed, but so did Spencer.

“Oh, my god.” Spencer was horrified. “No, we are not dating, I still haven’t asked her out or, or even told her how I feel.”

“Well, I guess I can tell Shayne to stop worrying now. He thought you were, like, keeping the relationship and hot goss from him. You know how much he loves love.” Courtney smiled fondly.

Spencer felt extremely nauseous. “No, of course I would be telling him everything. But there’s nothing to tell. And I wanted to talk to you because I’m starting to get worried that there never will be anything to tell. She’s pulled back a lot and I don’t know what I did wrong or what happened. I was hoping you’d be able to give me some insight.” He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm brewing in his head and his stomach. “It’s like, everything was fine. And then randomly, out of nowhere, it wasn’t. But as far as I can remember, we didn’t have a fight. I can’t think of anything I could have done to upset her like this, and I’m willing to apologize for whatever it is but…” He let out a sigh, “It’s like she’s a different person now. She won’t text me back, or she’ll respond days and days later with some shitty excuse. She’s not on that many games shoots anymore and when she is, she doesn’t seem to want to interact with me. I just want to fix this. My feelings for her aside, I miss my best friend, dude.”

Courtney wrapped Spencer in a hug, knowing that physical touch in moments like this always helped. Something she had actually learned from Y/N. After a soft pat on the back, they pulled apart. “Honey, I’m so sorry. We all misread the situation. I hope you don’t think we were uncaring, or that we didn’t want to help. We all knew something was up, honestly, you both wear your hearts on your sleeves. But we thought that it was more of a personal, relationship issue than… this. I’m so sorry, babe. Tell ya what, me, Ang, and Amanda will have a bestie’s night with her and see what we can figure out. Sound good?” 

Spencer nodded, wiping a small tear that threatened to escape his eye. 

“I can’t promise I’ll be the best double agent, depending on what I find out. But I’ll see what I can do. I know you love her, Spencer. We’ll get this sorted, okay?” Courtney gave Spencer a little pat on the head, and he left the conversation feeling a bit better. 

//

“Y/NNNNNNNN!” Angela called down the hall, searching for her friend. “Yo, Shayne. Have you seen Y/N?” 

Shayne shrugged his shoulders, “Haven’t seen her all day. Did she call off?”

“You’re no help!” She replied, letting him walk away.

Alex Tran then turned the corner into the little lunch area, and Angela decided to accost them next. “Alex! Where’s Y/N?”

“Uh, I don’t know? I thought she called out today.” 

“What the fuck.” Angela took her phone out, immediately texting her.

yo where tf are u??? did u call out alex said u called out??

Angela then took a seat, a little out of breath from running around the Smoffice looking for her bestie. Luckily her phone vibrated nearly immediately.

yea sorry i got a lil stomach bug :/ hoping it’s a 24 hr thing bc i feel like ASS!!

“Okay she has a stomach bug everyone! Calm down!” Angela yelled, as though the lunch room was, a) populated and b) interested. She was interested.

stomach bug, eh? what’d you eat? spencer’s ass?

ANGELA???

what i’m curious sue me

i did not eat spencer’s ass. i had some leftover chinese food that might have been a little too left over. iykwim. be nice to me it’s coming out both ends!!

ok that’s tmi i fear

you just asked me if i ate my best friend’s ass

i asked if u ate spencer’s ass not mine <3

i fear after this convo u have been demoted to second best friend sorry queen </3

i’ll be over with some meds n soup after this shoot. u will forgive me then.

maybe.

After Angela finished her conversation with Y/N, she hopped over to the games set to do a quick livestream. It was slated to be an hour, but she silently hoped it ended a little earlier. After Courtney told her and Amanda that something weird was going on between Y/N and Spencer, she knew she had to sneak attack before the real attack. They had scheduled a bestie’s night out on Friday, and it was Wednesday. All three of them accosting Y/N at once wasn’t ideal, and she knew Y/N would clam up if she wasn’t eased into it, so she told Courtney and Amanda she would try and get some intel one-on-one first.

As Angela walked onto set, Alex informed her that he was swapping out for her in the stream, so she could head out whenever she wanted. They had winked when they told her this, so Ang could only assume this was a joint effort that he was in on. Good to hear.

She made her rounds to say goodbye and make sure she didn’t have any other tasks to finish that day, and confirmed with Ian and Anthony that she could head out. Once she was all good to go, Angela texted Y/N to let her know she was picking up food and then would be on her way.

//

You were laying in bed, curled up under the covers trying to come up with an excuse. Why did you have to say it was a stomach bug? You should be able to be open and honest with your friends. After a nice deep sigh, you got up and put on some sweats and a t-shirt, knowing Angela would arrive in mere minutes.

You grabbed a Red Bull from your fridge, needing a kick of energy. You should text Spencer. He had messaged you about an hour before, just to say he hopes you feel better. Damn your lie. You opened the text thread with him, looking at your frankly embarrassing lack of responses or late replies. He deserved better than that. That was the problem, though, wasn’t it? He deserved a better friend. And a fantastic partner. And you knew that he didn’t want that, despite how badly you did.

The feelings you had been harboring for Spencer were getting to a point you couldn’t deny them anymore. You’d been pushing them down since that very first day, and your heart was hurting. A lot.

– Five years ago –

You walked into the office, head held high despite your anxiety. You wanted to make a good impression, and you weren’t letting your brain get in the way of that. You couldn’t. Greeted by a man a few inches taller than you, though not by much, you felt oddly at peace right away. He had glasses and little tattoos decorating his forearms, and his curly brown hair was wisping to and fro under a hat with the Smosh logo across it. 

“Hey, are you Y/N?” He asked, and you nodded silently, finding yourself at a loss for words. “I’m Spencer. I’ll be sitting in on your interview. I help out on the games channel and edit here and there.” His smile was bright, and you felt yourself returning it.

“Oh, cool. Uh, I think I’m supposed to be meeting with Ian?” You said, despite him clearly already knowing this information.

He smiled again, and your stomach fluttered without your permission. The calm feeling that came over you was certainly reassuring, but if your body kept reacting to this random man like this, you were expecting a few problems in your future.

“Yeah, we’re meeting right down the hall here. I’ll take you over but then I’m going to run to the kitchen to grab a Kickstart. Ian should already be in there anyway, and he’s definitely going to appreciate your timeliness.” Spencer glanced at the watch on his wrist, seeming to mentally note that you were around five minutes early. Truthfully, you had arrived twenty minutes before your actual interview, but you didn’t want to be that early. After sitting in your car and listening to some music to relax, you had made your way in with eight minutes to spare. You got a little caught up at the door and the very kind and conversational woman at the desk, but still managed to be early.

You nodded again, and followed Spencer down the hall to a meeting room that was spacious but cozy. The man sitting at the head of the table – Ian, you assumed – smiled and stood as you entered.

“Hey, Spencer.” He walked to meet you both at the entrance, and he held his hand out to shake. “And you must be Y/N! I’m Ian Hecox, we spoke over email.” 

You shook his hand, introducing yourself and thanking him for the opportunity. 

Spencer told Ian he’d be right back, and you and Ian grabbed seats at the table. “I see you’ve met Spencer! He works on the games channel, but he’s lined up for a promotion to director of games so I asked him to sit in on the interview just so he’d be comfortable when he actually had to start interviewing people himself.”

“He’s very nice! He made me feel welcome right away.” You were lightly fidgeting under the table, anxiety coming back now that Spencer had left. 

You and Ian got to talking about your past experiences – improv with Groundlings, two one-woman plays at Dynasty Typewriter, and some script work here and there at small entertainment companies. You had applied for cast but told Ian you’d be fine behind the scenes as well, hoping to have a shot at one or the other and emphasizing your willingness to wear multiple hats.

Soon, Spencer returned and shut the door behind him, sitting across from you at the table with Kickstart in hand.

After the interview, Ian had called you personally a mere hour afterwards to tell you he was impressed with your resume and interview and wanted to bring you on. You’d start doing some script work, and then would transition to cast full-time if you liked it. You were ecstatic, but couldn’t help but be even more excited at the concept of getting to know Spencer better.

Unfortunately, by the end of the interview you could already tell you were developing a work crush on Spencer. You’d had them before, and you’d kept yourself in check. You could do it again, right?

Five years later, you weren’t so sure.

//

You were pulled out of your reverie by your Ring doorbell going off. You knew it was Angela because she also knocked afterwards, the same catchy little knock she always did. You took another sip of your Red Bull and ventured to your door, pulling it open and giving Ang a hug.

“Well, you don’t look all that shitty, considering you’re apparently shitting your brains out and puking them up as well. Spill, bitch,” was her only form greeting as she came into your apartment and sat the little soup containers on the counter. She turned around and glared at you, but there was no real venom in it. Angela could see through you like nobody else, even Spencer. He understood you in a way that was different, for sure, but you could never lie or even lightly fib to Ang without her immediately calling you on it.

Another sigh escaped you, and you sat on your couch to get into it. “Where should I start? Actually, tell me your hypothesis and I’ll go from there.”

Angela scooted up close to you, leaning her head on your shoulder. You were big on physical touch, and she somehow always knew what you needed. “You’re in love with Spencer and having trouble coming to terms with it because you think he doesn’t return your feelings so you’ve been silently freaking out for probably two months because you hate talking about your feelings even though I’m your best friend and know exactly what you’re feeling at all times even when you try to hide it from me.”

“You didn’t take a breath for that whole sentence, you know,” was your only response.

She poked your thigh, “Don’t deflect.”

You rolled your eyes, affectionate in every way, because you couldn’t be mad when she was fucking right. Because of course she was. “Is it deflection if you already know you’re correct, you demon? Yes, you’re spot the fuck on, as always. Jesus.” You laid your head on the back of the couch, trying to remain calm. “I don’t know what the fuck to do. I can’t hide this shit anymore, and it’s getting to a point where it’s interfering with my work, clearly. I know he doesn’t feel the same – I can’t even give myself hope that he does because, like, I feel like he would have told me at this point, you know? We’re always honest with each other, occasionally too honest, and I find it hard to believe he’d be able to keep that from me. He’s an open book, and I can read him like you can read me. I don’t know. I’ve been feeling lost about it, I guess.”

Angela let you get your feelings out, awkward pauses and teary eyes given grace because she’s always good to you. But then she laughed. A deep, rumbling laugh from the depths of her soul. Which hurt a little bit.

“Why the fuck are you laughing at me? I’m emotional, be nice, you freak!” You laughed beside yourself, because even though it did hurt a little bit, you know her intentions were golden.

“Y/N, you idiot. Walk me through your thought process here. Why do you think he doesn’t return your feelings, seriously. I want an explanation.”

“Like I said! He hasn’t said anything! I’ve just been pushing him away because that’s easier than being near him, Angela, it hurts to be next to him knowing I can never kiss him or tell him what I’m really feeling. I want to do everything with him. I want to carpool to work with him, I want to go to dinner with him and cook food for him, I want to go on Kickstart runs with him and try to understand why the fuck he drinks that shit when Red Bull exists. I want to understand him, inside and out. I want him, in every sense. And if he wanted all that too, he would have told me by now!” You were tired of keeping everything inside, and you knew Angela wouldn’t sugarcoat anything or lead you astray. 

Ang grabbed your hands, rubbing her thumbs against the backs of them – your favorite form of physical comfort from her. “Babe, I’m quite literally going to hold your hand when I tell you this. You’re way too in your head about this. Step back, take a deep breath, and try to see his perspective. You haven’t told him anything either, and now you’re ignoring him and doing your best to not be anywhere near him. How is he supposed to interpret that? How could he be honest with you about his feelings when you won’t even text the poor man back? What if he was gearing himself up for it, finally ready to be open, and then you pull back so far he doesn’t feel like it’s a good idea to tell you?”

After a few deep breaths on your part, and a nice inhale on Angela’s, you started calming down. “Well, yeah, I guess. But what makes you think he returns my feelings? What gave you that inclination?”

“I’ve been in an office with you five days a week for two years. And my eyes work. With or without my glasses. Y/N, I’m not trying to push you or stress you out, and I’m also not trying to tell you how Spencer feels. Only he knows what he’s feeling, but I know what I see. The way he looks at you, the way his smile fades just the slightest bit when you leave the room, the way he tailors his jokes to make you laugh the hardest, not even trying to make jokes that would land for anyone else. I can’t tell you that Spencer returns your feelings, but I can tell you that I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if he did. You need to let him in, and even though you don’t have to tell him how you’re feeling right away, you need to be more honest with him. He’s your best friend, and even if he somehow, in some extremely strange turn of events, doesn’t feel the same, I don’t think that he’s going to cut you off for loving him.” She punctuated her sentence with a hug and a kiss to your forehead.

“Can I have some soup?” You whispered, tears threatening to spill.

“Do you deserve soup? You are a liar. I don’t think liars deserve soup,” Angela replied, despite standing to grab the containers. You laughed, grateful for her lack of seriousness, and grabbed a tissue from your end table to dab at your eyes. 

She brought over the containers, setting them on the coffee table and handing you some napkins and a spoon. “Everything will be okay, honey. But you have to talk to Spencer, and soon. Can you promise me you’ll text him today? Even just to say hi. Like I said, you don’t have to tell him everything right away. But you can’t keep pushing him away, okay?” 

“Okay.”

After some soup and an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Angela headed out after nudging your phone closer to you. You nodded, and gave her a hug once you thanked her for her time and the soup. 

You put a record on, some random piano and instrumental album Spencer had gifted you after he found it at the thrift shop. Sinking into the couch once more, you muscled up the nerve to pick up your phone.

Angela had sent you a text encouraging you once more, and you sent some hearts in return. Opening the text thread with Spencer, your single pinned conversation in the messaging app, you took a deep breath and started typing.

hey bug. are u free?

His response was immediate, almost alarmingly so. You knew his phone was on do not disturb, but you also knew that you came through all his different DND modes. 

yeah what’s up?

can you come over? i miss you

omw love

The fast responses were a bit anxiety-inducing, and you realized you should probably make yourself a little more presentable. Making your way to the bathroom, Find My Friends app open and live-updating, you brushed your hair out and changed into one of Spencer’s shirts you stole however many years ago. You tossed on some pants, not wanting to be in sweats when you knew you were probably going to spill your guts as soon as he knocked on your door. Some mascara also probably wouldn’t hurt, but the Find My Friends app informed you that he wasn’t far away. Plus, you didn’t expect to make it out of this conversation without tears.

Spencer had to have been speeding with how quickly he got to your apartment. LA traffic was no joke, but it didn’t seem like he had encountered any somehow. When you first checked his location after texting him, you saw he was at the office, so you wondered what he told Ian and Anthony to be able to leave so quickly. 

You had finally managed to calm yourself down, and then he was in your apartment’s little entry alcove. You had given him a key as soon as you got the place. He hadn’t asked, but you were given two keys and knew if you needed him for anything he’d be over quicker than anyone else.

“Hey,” you whispered, taken aback by his natural beauty. He was wearing his glasses, which you secretly preferred. They suited him so well, and they made his eyes just a bit brighter. 

Spencer walked over to you, wrapping you in a hug with absolutely no hesitance. You appreciated that about him – no matter what was going on in either of your heads, you could always count on him to give you a hug when he saw you for the first time in a while.

“Hi, love.” He placed a small and quiet kiss on the top of your head, something he had been doing for years at this point, but it almost hurt a little bit this time. You were beginning to worry again. How could you deal with not having that physical affection if this went badly? “Get out of your head, Y/N. What’s going on, just talk to me, please.”

You both relaxed onto the couch, mere centimeters apart, as always. The strongest gods to exist couldn’t pull him away from you.

“I’m really sorry, bug. I’ve been shitty.” You looked down at your hands, decades-old habit of fidgeting with your thumbnail returning with a quickness. Spencer put his hand on yours, knowing you’d pick at your skin if he didn’t intervene. God, you really loved this man. “I’ve been pushing you away because I’ve been having my own internal issues, and that’s unfair to you, and I’m sorry. I’ve been a bad friend, but I want you to know it’s not your fault in the slightest. You know I tend to bottle stuff up, and I’m sorry I haven’t been honest.”

Spencer put his arm around you, pulling you ever-closer to him. You rested your head on his shoulder, a mirror of you and Angela a mere thirty minutes prior. Tears started falling, and you didn’t try to stop them. You had to let it out, holding it in wouldn’t do any good. Yeah, Angela tried to reinforce that you didn’t need to tell Spencer everything right away, but talking about it with her helped enough that you were confident now. It was time.

“Spence,” you started, looking up at him through your lashes. “I love you, you know that, right?”

He smiled, brighter than the sun, “Of course. I love you, too, Y/N.” 

“Yeah, but I’m not entirely sure you love me the way I love you.” You looked away at this point, unable to hold eye contact when you knew you were about to let far too many words fall out of your mouth. “Five years ago when I walked into that office and you greeted me, I was so, so anxious. Your presence immediately calmed me down, and I honestly knew then and there that I was fucked. You were just so kind, and in the interview you asked questions that made me feel like I’d known you my whole life. We fit together like two strange little puzzle pieces, and I’ve felt this way since that day. I’m so fucking in love with you, Spencer. It’s killing me. I don’t expect you to return my feelings and I promise, although it might hurt a little bit at first, I really, really don’t want us to go our separate ways. But I can’t keep this inside anymore.”

You took a breath, steeling your nerves. “I want to do everything with you, and I want to be everything to you. I’m head over heels over ass over dick in love with you, and it’s driving me crazy. I tried pulling away, I thought it might help the feelings fade. But I just feel like a dick, since that’s what I’ve been for months at this point. I’m really sorry, I was trying to preserve my own sanity but I didn’t take your feelings into account and that’s unfair and shitty. I can’t say that I love you and then treat you how I’ve been treating you. I hope you can forgive me for how I’ve been acting. And above all, I hope you can forgive me for loving you. I can’t make it stop, but I promise I won’t hold anything against you. And I promise I’ll be a better friend.”

You finally separated from his side, grabbing yet another tissue to dry your face before daring to look at him. When you did finally turn your attention to Spencer, he was silently crying too.

“Y/N, you wouldn’t believe how happy I am to hear that. I’ve not been fair to you either, and I promise I’m not upset and I don’t hold anything against you. I’d be extremely hypocritical if I did.”

You were quiet, hoping he’d continue to elaborate. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, you needed to hear it from him. You needed him to say it.

When Spencer realized you weren’t going to respond, he gave you what you silently asked for. Always a mindreader, him. “I love you too, Y/N, and I have loved you just as long. When I saw you all those years ago, my heart started racing, and I thought I was having a stroke.” A quiet laugh escaped him, reminiscing on that fateful day. “You were effortlessly gorgeous, and you held yourself so confidently. I’ve been gone for you since that day, so no, I’m not upset. I’ve been meaning to tell you, too, but right when I finally decided to nut up, you started pushing me away. I got super paranoid that you had somehow realized how I felt and were, like, grossed out and decided to distance yourself. But I love you too, I have for years, and I will continue to do so for the rest of my life. It’s been you for five years, and it’s always going to be you. I can promise you that.” 

He had been holding your gaze the whole time he spoke, and you could tell he was being a hundred percent genuine. All your anxiety dissipated and was replaced with a burning happiness deep in your veins.

Feeling all too bold, you quickly asked, “Can I kiss you?” 

His response came in the form of soft lips on yours, no pressure, no rush. Just… bliss.

You started to lay back on the couch, bringing him down with you, until you were both wrapped up in each other, lazily kissing like you had all the time in the world. And it felt like you did – time had stopped entirely and the only real, tangible thing in this universe was Spencer. 

It was easy, falling into this. But it had been easy all along, you had just made it hard because you were scared. And Spencer didn’t hold that against you, he understood better than anyone. When he did finally pull back, your smiles were both so wide you knew your cheekbones would be hurting come morning. All you could do was thank him. For the kiss, for his compassion, for his forgiveness. For returning your feelings, and not judging you for being a shithead for two months. For giving you the time and space you needed to pull your head out of your ass. Spencer wasn’t having any of it, of course.

You knew there was a conversation that needed to be had, about what this friendship or relationship was now, and how you were going to navigate this change. But that could wait. You had forever, hopefully, and you knew Spencer would give you any time you needed. 

That’s why you love him, after all – he understands you better than anyone, and he had more patience than anyone else you’d met. 

You weren’t exactly looking forward to getting off this couch and moving forward, to be honest. You just wanted to stay in this moment and in Spencer’s arms, his lips on yours and his hands on your waist. But life waits for no one, and after all, Spencer was in your life, for good. You weren’t worried about the future, per se, but you had been waiting more than 1800 days for this, and you were planning on savoring it for as long as you possibly could.

You had a feeling Spencer did, too.

//

told you!!!!!! send me all the deets when he finally leaves xoxo gossip ang

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

another fic in the books who fuckin cheered!! i hope u enjoyed pls leave feedback if u feel so inclined... i love u!

[inf3ct3dd]

loser!ellie headcanons pt.6

summary: ellieeee my chiquitita my baby my love

warnings: none :3

authors note: ik yall missed herrrr

masterlist. help palestine.🇵🇸

- ellie tries to be soooo cool and wear her cool people jackets (leather jackets, canvas, those carhartt hoodie jackets etc) but they’re very not helpful against the cold and you’ll be out with her and shes just SHIVERING the whole time…

- she’s obsessed w those “general knowledge quizzes” on tiktok. that girl is a hoe for trivia she’s sitting on her bed at three in the morning saying her answers OUT LOUD while she watches them. she gets so upset when she gets literally any wrong… “man…im not a quiz master 🙁”

- ik in the games she walks around with her little journal and shit but i feel like shes definitely jus constantly typing shit in her notes app… random thoughts and jokes and shit that she most definitely shows you at the end of the day

- she barely ever baby talks to babies… she’ll go up to a baby and just be like “wassup dude” and have a full blown conversation with him while the babies just sitting there babbling and giggling at her

- thinks those “im nothing like yall” slideshows r so hilarious…. like you’ll be on the couch and she’s just giggling at her phone at paracetamol 😞

- references the most niche memes ever constantly and literally googles them to explain herself. you guys went camping and she said “boy you want hot dog” and you were like ????

- so strangely particular about how her stuff is arranged 😭 her desk looks like an absolute hot mess 90% of the time but SHE UNDERSTANDS IT and if u try and organize it for her she just puts it back how it was

- always says “guys” and “yall” when she’s talking to literally one person. and CHAT. she just constantly adds it into conversation like “chat how are you today”

- loves asking if things are “fire.” she’ll cook you something and you take a bite and shes like “is that shit fire???” she has to know

- obsessed with “i barely know her” jokes. the second someone says something ending in er shes like “rider??? i barely know her!!” and she’s laughing her ass off

- that girl will go HAM on some mac and cheese. but it can only be really good baked mac or the shitty kraft mac and cheese. she puts like- hella pepper and red chili flakes in it and eats it straight out of the pot 🔥 its always at like three in the morning and you just walk in the kitchen to her with a pot in her lap watching glee or some shit

- SPEAKING. OF. glee is most definitely one of her guilty pleasure shows…like shes rewatched it a million times and glee cast was one of her top artists on apple music wrapped

- shes an apple music user. send tweet.

- got yelled at by an old lady once cuz she picked her flowers out of her front yard and gave them to you

- when i tell you that girl goes ham on those tiny clementines… she’ll eat like 10 in one day and theres just PEELS. EVERYWHERE.

- also she fw grapes heavy. especially green grapes (shes a weird little freak red grapes are so much better)

- OBSESSED WITH THOSE BLIND BAG SHITS. especially mini brands oh my god she definitely has the whole lil grocery store set and she’s so obsessed with it.

- her house slippers are definitely just a pair of crocs with the fur inside and a bunch of stupid ass jibbits. she buys the mega packs off amazon and changes them whenever shes bored

- has SO MANY drafts on tiktok and they’re all her trying filters staring at the screen like 😯

- most annoying person to sleep next to ever . snoring, sleep talking, moving around CONSTANTLY and hitting you accidentally, the only way she sleeps peacefully is if you’re holding her or she’s holding you, otherwise shes insane

- weirdly into linguistics…that girl is using humongous words for no good reason just for fun and half the time she has no idea what they mean and when she googles them and shes right about the definition she does that little fist pump and “fuck yes”

- speaking of. that girl is SPEEDRUNNING DUOLINGO . she’s fluent in (bad spaniard) spanish from it, and just learns random languages for fun. you speak a different language? she’s learning it immediately. definitely leaves notes for you in random languages she learned and you have to pull out a translator to understand wtf shes talking about… she also sleep talks in spanish sometimes and its so funny

- loves trying out different recipes…like i said my girl is a CHEF she will be at home fucking up a salmon bake she made and making you homemade pho for dinner

- had a phase when she was younger when she was really into the la bamba movie and dressed like richie valens for two years

- also cried so hard when she watched selena with you…that girl was devastated 💔 every time she hears “dreaming of you” she almost sheds a tear

“when that yolanda bitch gets out of prison….im shooting someone . its obvious who its gonna be.”

- she definitely begged joel to buy her a gun for christmas and he would take her to the range all the time so she can SHOOT. that girl is goated at lazer tag she gets down…does not play

- thought that candy cigarettes were the coolest thing ever when she was little… everywhere she went she had one hanging out of the side of her mouth and shed hold them between her fingers like they do in movies. if you two go to a candy shop shes for sure buying a pack

[burrcapts]

Furry Midnight Haul

Nobody really knows how such places come to be, but it typically doesn't take very long before they are noticed by those who had the misfortune of living nearby. Most of the time it starts with people simply having a strange, uneasy feeling if they happen to get too close. But with time, the stories behind them begin to grow and fill with new, frightening details. The locals start whispering about those who went missing after going there on a dare, or just because they did not believe the rumors and had something to prove. Unfortunately for Quinn and Leo, they weren't locals at all and heard no such warnings.

After Leo's gps sent the two of them on a goose chase across the countryside, suggesting an apparently far more optimal and 12,7% faster route that eventually turned out to take them through a good handful of different dirt roads, they somehow ended up in the absolute middle of nowhere. Somehow even despite that the duo was still in a pretty upbeat mood, chatting merrily about the amazing concert they were at earlier that evening. Unfortunately it was already well past midnight and Leo was starting to feel really worn out after all the different excitements of the day so driving much further did not seem like such a great idea.

The closest town on the map was almost an hour away and even then, it was so small that Quinn and Leo doubted they would have found an open motel there anyway. Instead they decided to spend the night in the parking lot of this old truck stop they happened to be passing at the time. It looked abandoned, but most of the lamplights around the property seemed to still be working so they hoped that at least no animals would be disturbing them till morning.

Quinn needed to take a quick leak before bedtime but Leo was so wiped that he wasted next to no time reclining his driver seat all the way back and rolling up some old sweatshirt he found on the backseat for a makeshift pillow. Of course he agreed when Quinn asked him to try and stay awake until he was back in case something were to happen. But it wasn't even a full minute after his friend closed the car door behind himself that he began dozing off.

Quinn was only planning to run behind the building and have a piss there, but as he got closer, he realized that he could see a faint light flickering behind one of the windows. Maybe this place wasn't really as abandoned as they originally thought… Upon closer inspection, he found the door to the public toilet at the side of the building, that's where the light was coming from! 

Much to Quinn's surprise, while not spotlessly clean by any means the bathroom wasn't a complete sty like he would have expected and after taking a small peek, he decided to try going inside, not knowing that nobody had been there in ages. He noticed a bit of a funky, musky aroma in the air, but honestly, that wasn’t a total dealbreaker. He walked up to the stalls and found them in a more than acceptable state as well. Those were going to be useful in case that double sized chili hot dog he got at the last gas station came knocking…

But one thing that caught Quinn's eye in particular had to be graffiti that covered the walls inside the stall. He giggled, wondering if he accidentally stumbled upon some secret gay cruising spot. The drawings were pretty simple and rather crude, depicting numerous beefy, burly men, with big cocks and even bigger beards! Quinn giggled when he noticed just how much care and attention was put into drawing their junk and their body hair, but how little anything else. 

Upon a closer look, it was almost like a comic book of sorts, showing the lives of a pair of particularly hairy, bearded truckers (but really, mostly just the two of them fucking each other and the men they met on the road.) One was drawn almost like a round ball with how huge his gut was and while the other had a pretty hefty potbelly too, someone definitely put the most effort into making his arms look as big and muscular as possible. 

Back in the car, Leo could see those same two arms in a much greater detail. As soon as he'd fallen asleep, he found himself having a very strange dream... In it, he was also reclining in front of the steering wheel in the middle of this same parking lot, only he was inside of a huge semi truck, rather than the old sedan he got from his dad. When he tried to move, Leo realized that he was occupying the body of someone else.

Someone big… really big. Those furry arms he saw waving in front of him were just enormous! He also had a beard, and it must have been really long and bushy because Leo could see its end brushing all across his meaty, ridiculously hairy chest whenever he looked down! He immediately blushed when he realized that wasn't the only thing he could see… This guy's fly was popped wide open with a fully hard, beercan of a cock sticking straight out of it!

And the freakiest thing was that as soon as he saw it, Leo began feeling so damn horny, as if he'd just been beating it off himself… suddenly it was almost getting hard to keep himself from wrapping this furry paw that he now had for a hand around the engorged, leaking piece of meat. Why not give it a few strokes? It wasn't like he was planning on cumming before the huz was back… that thought came so naturally to Leo that it didn't really occur to him to ask who was this ‘huz’ that he was talking about.

The burly trucker whose body Leo was now inhabiting did not like to think too hard about things, especially not when he was this hard and horny himself! If Quinn had still been around, he would have seen Leo squirming in the car seat, moaning pleasurably as the coating of stubble around his mouth began sprouting darker and thicker. But what was going on inside Leo's dream in that same moment was far less tame…

After giving his swollen meat a few timid strokes, he quickly discovered just how good it could feel to jerk off in the body of such a hulking, furry beast of a man. By now he was completely consumed by lust, grunting loud and beating it so hard that his huge, hairy balls were swinging in the air. Leo could actively feel himself growing dumber, but it was impossible to resist all that pleasure. As if this mind, limited to only the horny, brutish thoughts was experiencing them with that much more intensity.

Some of this horniness must have been rubbing off on Quinn because as he continued to study the lewd graffiti, his cock started to tent up in his pants without him noticing. His eyes were so tightly glued to the drawings that he also failed to realize that little by little, the space around him was changing. Paint was losing its vibrant color and peeling off the walls, the white tiles on the floor turning to shades of grey and freely overgrowing with grime. The unwashed smell of sweaty, wild sex was allowed to fill the air, opening the door to numerous, dirty and perverse thoughts that were just waiting for an opportunity to sneak into Quinn's head.

He found himself picturing what those two bearded truckers might have looked like in real life. Somehow not finding it strange at all that his interest was gravitating particularly towards the drawings depicting the most explicit sex scenes. They both had such massive cocks… the one belonging to the beefier trucker was hella thick, but so was the meat of the guy with a huge gut, and it might have been even longer! Quinn let out a moan as his cock started to grow even bigger, pressing uncomfortably against his jeans. 

Ugh, why the fuck was he wearing something so damn tight while on the road? It always felt best to ride in nothing but his jock so he could always whip out his cock whenever he got horny and give hubby a hot show… and since the jockstrap was right there, he would always have something around to wipe up all that cum off his belly too! Suddenly Quinn had the perfect image of a blonde, big bellied trucker with an enormous, matted beard pressing a nasty, yellowed jockstrap straight into his face. He grinned and gave it a snort, then, a moment later, Quinn found himself making that exact same sound, his hand tightly squeezing the bulge sprouting from his crotch. 

Fuck yeah, horny manstink always got him so damn hard! Quinn started to lift his other hand towards his face, he felt something between his fingers… its crusty fabric was soaked with so many  old loads that he could already smell it… his ripe, old jockstrap… suddenly Quinn was pushing his face right into it, taking a deep snort as his faint, weekend's worth of stubble started to grow longer and denser. Already making him look like he hadn't shaved in well over a month, and probably hadn't bothered to comb his shaggy mess of beard in about as long too. 

Oh damn, this manly stink was really getting him going! Quinn was in the process of trying to clumsily undo his belt and get ahold of his cock. But fuck, he needed more! His mouth was opening, the tongue sticking out further and further, something was telling him that he just had to give this rank jock a good lick… he could already almost taste those salty, countless loads spilled into it… but then suddenly Quinn opened his eyes, asking himself just what the fuck he was doing?! He tossed the jockstrap against the wall, pushing the stall door open and bolted outside.

Unfortunately for Leo trying to resist the influence of this place was proving to be far more difficult while asleep. Even despite his dwindling intellect, he could tell that this was no ordinary dream. Everything was too real… the inside of this cab, this hulking, beefy body covered in coarse fur, the way it felt when he squeezed this beer can thick cock that constantly dribbled with pre. He had this sudden urge to give it a taste and once he did, he simply couldn't stop! He was such a horny pig! Constantly beating off and huffing his ripe pits.

Leo was still able to tell that the deeper he sank into this lustful frenzy, the harder it was getting to recall ever doing anything else, ever being anything else than this massive, furry trucker! But who cared? He was so fucking hot now! Leo wasn't able to resist tilting the rear view window towards the cabin so he could see more of himself in the reflection. Getting so damn turned on admiring his broad, meaty chest and caressing the enormous beard that was hanging down from his tough, brutish face. 

Back in the real world, Leo's body was moving in that exact, same fashion. Fingers combing through what was now a full beard, densely covering his cheeks while his other hand tugged on his swelling cock. Somehow Leo knew what was happening to him, that his real self was changing to resemble this burly, constantly horny, hirsute beast of a man but he was powerless to do anything about it. Completely trapped inside this horny wet dream and unable to wake up. 

Even his best efforts amounted to little more than making himself shift from side to side in his seat. Except by now, it was a tall and wide driver's seat of a massive semi truck and with every stroke of his cock, Leo was getting closer to filling it completely with his furry bulk. He knew that the only hope he had left was for Quinn to quickly get back and wake him up before it was too late!

Unfortunately for Leo, his friend was going through a major crisis of his own at that same moment when he ran out of the bathroom stall and saw himself in the mirror. He was so unrecognizable that at first Quinn screamed, thinking that someone else was in here with him, but when it finally sank in that he was looking at himself, he was far too freaked out to make even a peep. His puffy face was completely covered in shaggy, matted hair! The only thing that Quinn could think of was that he must have been having some kind of an allergic reaction because the rest of his body was suddenly so swollen that his normally loosely fitting hoodie was ready to burst at the seams.

Quinn was panicking so much that despite having felt the messy hairs against his fingers, he still refused to accept that such a huge beard could have sprouted all around his mouth just like that. He rushed towards the sink, convinced that it was something he could simply wash off. Turning on the rusty tap and splashing his face in such a hurry that it was only when his beard was completely soaked wet, that Quinn got a good whiff of just how badly this water reeked. 

It was so unbelievably ripe and musky, as if someone made a whole bunch of brawny construction workers wipe themselves with only a single towel after their shift, and then wrung it right above his face. Quinn let out a strained groan as he tried to hold his breath, but it was too late, his chest started to swell so rapidly that it felt like he might suffocate if he didn't pull off his hoodie. Only to find a massive, round gut flopping down onto the sink alongside a pair of fat moobs when he did.

It was just immense and it was still swelling larger and covering in thick, sweaty hair right before his eyes. Quinn’s gaze constantly darting back and forth between it and this massive, unkempt mess of a beard that was now cascading down his chest. Quinn had no idea what to do now, he only knew that somehow, watching it all happen was getting him so unbelievably horned up that he was only moments away from tearing his pants open to whip out his rock hard cock and start beating off.

But then it turned out that he won't even have to wait that long. Suddenly a big, muscled arm covered in thick, dark fur appeared on top of his belly, with another one undoing his belt and grabbing his cock from behind.

“Fuck huz, should have told me ya wanted to stick around cruisin’ for some cocksuckers round here, would have joined ya earlier! Or maybe even taken care of that gigantic schlong myself!”

Quinn moaned when he felt the grip tightening around his meat as the visitor's broad, rough fingers began massaging its entire length. He looked up and saw the gruff face of a hulking trucker brute with a beard almost as massive as his own. After a moment and a closer look Quinn recognized him, and of course he fucking did! It was his husband Leo, the horny pig couldn't even wait till he was done having a piss and had already stomped here with his cock out, wanting to fuck! But that was why Quinn loved that bastard so much, the only man he'd ever met who was as much of a horndog as himself! He grinned and pulled down his pants all the way, opening his hairy ass wide and sliding it onto Leo’s thick, throbbing cock.

“Yeah, give it to me you hot fucker! Yer gonna be tasting that load when ya rim my arse at the next stop!!!”

Wait… why was he saying that… Quinn wanted to tell Leo to stop but instead only kep spewing more dirty, perverted things and encouraging him to fuck him harder. God, that felt so damn good, seeing just how much his gut was turning this beefy trucker on! Leo was moaning even louder than he was when he caressed this furry, swelling beach ball with his meaty paws. Inside, Quinn was still desperately trying to tell his friend that he had to stop, but the only thing leaving his mouth was a horny litany of the dirtiest curse words ordering him to keep going until eventually even he was too turned on to talk at all.

Only grunting wildly as he tugged on his big nips and pushed his ass deeper and deeper onto Leo's beer can thick fuckstick. After all those years they've spent on the road together, fucking multiple times per day, they could both tell without fail just how close the other was to blowing his load. And with how loud and savage Leo's groans were getting, Quinn knew that the huz was already on the edge.

“Do it fucker! Blow that load in my… HNNGHHHHH!!!

He couldn't finish before he felt Leo squeezing his cock as hard as he could take it and jerking it rapidly until it began spewing thick globs of prime trucker spunk all over the floor in front of them. Then thrusting his cock as deep up Quinn's ass as he could before he started cumming as well, completely flooding the big bellied bear's insides. As always, the intensity of the orgasm leaving them heaving and panting loudly, completely dripping with sweat. After Leo slid his cock out, Quinn gathered some of the cum still oozing from its tip onto his tongue and pulled his man into a sloppy kiss, already looking forward to finding out just how much better this load was going to taste after marinating inside his hole until the next truck stop.

If you liked the story and would like to read more bear themed transformation fiction, or have something written for yourselves consider subscribing to my Patreon! This one in particular was a request from two of my subscribers!

I have also set up two extra accounts on twitter and bluesky for caption purposes! https://x.com/burrcapts https://burrcapts.bsky.social/

[werwersbb]

I know the puppy is actually lost😢, but I still want to play this meme.

Bernese Mountain Dog! Carlos

Some unimportant follow-up, after Carlos turning back into a human.

Carlos: So, dog or cat?

Charles: Is that a question you need to ask?Everyone knows the answer.

Carlos: Just answer the question.

Charles: ......

Charles:...You know you could just ask me to say I like you, instead of using this roundabout way.

Carlos: I like roundabout way.

Charles: And I like you.

Never forget what 55 said to 16: Have you tried the chili crab? ...I am the chili crab.

Do you want 16 to try you so much?

I love chatting, please ask me questions 🥺

[supernova41st]

Detention

(Pico x Reader)

Warnings: School fight, blood, bruising, bullying, swearing, EVERYONE gets their ass beat

A/n: This is based off a ao3 fic that I liked but also hated cuz it had 🍇.. I didn’t read the tags pls. Anyways I’m rlly proud of this fic ha so enjoy

You felt so stupid, you never thought that you’d get into such dumb fights for such dumb reasons. Now you’re stuck in an empty classroom, with two idiots you just finished fighting with. All covered in either blood or bruises, the fuck happened?

Third pov:

Another average morning at school. The hallways were full of teens either walking to class or having a quick chat with their friends.

However, Pico and Darnell had other plans. The two boys were in the middle of a brawl, one in one side of the hallway, and the other in-well the other. All of the students stopped whatever they were doing to watch the two, cheering ‘fight!fight!fight!’, Y/n had been in the middle of the two, trying to grab some books from their locker. They were completely unaware of the fight that they were basically in the middle of since they had their earbuds plugged in on max volume

As y/n went in to grab on of their books, Pico reaches in to grab it from their hands and throw it at Darnell. “Dude!” Y/n yells, raising their hands a bit. Pico ignores them, realizing that he missed the first throw. In a panic, he grabs y/n’s iPod from their hands and pelts it at Darnell’s face.

Y/n gasps and runs towards their dear iPod to try saving it from the fight, but before they can even get near it, Darnell accidentally steps on the screen while getting up. Y/n stops in their tracks, jaw open and eyes widened. They were too late. They quickly look back at Pico, who was getting his ass absolutely handed to him by Darnell, and decides that he’s gonna have to pay for that thing, and not with money.

Once Pico knocks Darnell out on the floor for a bit, y/n tackles him. “What the fuck??” The confused ginger yells while y/n grabs him by his hair and stuffs his head in their open locker. ‘Oh fuck’ and ‘holy shit’s are heard from the audience of students watching as they prepare for what’s about to happen. Suddenly, a bang comes from the locker door and Pico’s head, as y/n slams the door shut with his head stuffed inside. They then do it again, and again, until her arms eventually get tired, and they notice Darnell getting up.

Darnell seems confused at first, until he realizes that he stepped on their iPod. Shit, now he has another opponent. Before he knows it, him and y/n are both giving each other bruises and bloody noses, fists flying everywhere. At least until a few teacher make their way out of the crowd, and quickly separate the three.

Now, y/n is sitting in the third row of some desks in a classroom, while both Pico and Darnell sit behind her. The room is filled with nothing but silence, Pico laying his head on the desk, seemingly asleep. Y/n on the other hand, wasn’t doing much. They didn’t have any homework, nor were they feeling sleepy, so they just had their elbows on the table, holding their head from falling. I mean, what else was there to do? Use their iPod? ..wait

Darnell, sitting behind her, puts his feet up on the top of y/n’s chair, getting dirt in their hair. Now, normally y/n would ask them to stop, or even tell the teacher, but at this point, they didn’t feel like getting anymore trouble for anything else. So they just tried their best to ignore him. Darnell chuckles at their ‘reaction’, then going back to playing with his lighter.

“Darnell!” Mr Roger’s yells, “Do I need to put you in another classroom?” He asks rhetorically. Darnell groans in annoyance, “no sir..” he mumbles. Mr Roger’s sighs, “Darnell, why don’t you just, go get me some papers from the printing room.” Mr Roger’s says waving his hands in a shooing motion, Darnell clicks his tongue, clearly pissed. But he still gets up to go do as he says.

Y/n feels a wave of relief, that Darnell’s dirty shoes aren’t stuffed in their hair anymore. But as soon as they finally find peace, it’s quickly interrupted a paper ball being thrown at them. Out of curiosity, they pick up the paper ball and unwrap it, because of course they did.

“Whats ur name?”

Was written in some shitty Sharpie that Pico found on the floor. He couldn’t find a pencil or even a paper since his backpack was a mess, so he just wrote on his homework that was past due a week ago. Y/n looks back at Pico, who’s head was down as if nothing had happen, they rolled their eyes at the freckled boy. They then look down at the paper, wondering if they should write back or not. Eh, why not.

“Y/n”

Y/n waits until the teacher at the front of the class averts his gaze to something else, throwing the ball back to the ginger. Pico tucks it under his elbow, his head still down. Suddenly, y/n’s heart drops when she hears Mr Roger’s chair creak as he gets up. “I’m gonna go check on Darnell. You two, stay silent.”

As soon as Mr Roger’s steps out of the classroom, a voice is heard from behind y/n. “Sorry that I threw your thing, y/n..” Pico mutters shamefully, y/n looks back at the injured boy. His lip looked busted, and he had bruises around his cheek. Y/n cringes at the sight of his injuries, injuries that they did. “It’s fine.. sorry about the locker.” Pico chuckles at y/n’s apology, shaking his head.

“I uhh, got you something, Yknow, for your lip.” Y/n grabs a cold can of monster from under their desk. Then handing it to pico. “You can drink it too if you want it” Pico grabs the cold drink from their hands, and places it on his bruised cheek. “What song were you listening to anyways? Must’ve been somethin’ pretty loud” He laughs. Y/n blushes a bit in embarrassment of what her answer is, “oh just.. break stuff by limp bizkit”

Pico’s eyes lighten up at her answer, “no fuckin’ way! I love bizkit!!” He smiles, “Lemme guess, your favorite album is significant other?” Y/n laughs, “no, it’s chocolate starfish..”

Pico cracks the can of Monster open, taking a couple of painful sips since his lip was busted. “Your nose still has blood on it by the way” Pico points out, y/n tapping blood that was on their upper lip, seeing dried blood. “Shit.. I don’t have anything to wipe it with” They mutter staring at the dry blood on their finger. “I got some water, gimme a sec” Pico grabs his backpack, and pulls out his water bottle and a crinkle napkin from some fast food place. He begins to pour a little water on the napkin, and makes the ‘come here’ motion with his hand to y/n.

Once y/n scoots closer, bringing their chair with them, he grabs the side of their jaw lightly, moving them closer. Pico wipes the dry blood from y/n’s upper lip. Y/n looks around the room, trying to not stare into picos green eyes, but they eventually fail. The two make eye contact, their faces only an inch or two away from each other. Not knowing what to say about the awkward interaction, she decides to compliment him, because of course they did. “Your hairs really.. pretty” Y/n whispers, “what?” Pico responds, quite confused at the feminine compliment.

“Hey!”

The two heads snap at the door, where Mr Roger’s, along with Darnell, stood. “What did I say about talking?” Darnell chuckles at the state the two were in, “oh shit! Were you two about to kiss?” Darnell laughs, pointing at the two. Pico and y/n both look back at each other, realizing that their current position wasn’t the most.. platonic. Pico and y/n quickly move back to their desks, red faced, rambling about how gross it’d be to even be near each other

“Pfft, whatever you say, lovebirds.” Pico scoffs “fuck you Darnell.” “Okay you two, that’s enough. Pico, Y/n,” He starts, “you two are going to get detention for the whole week. Darnell, you’ll be getting two weeks for sneaking out.” Darnell groans in annoyance.

The group exits the classroom onto the front of the now empty school. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow..” Pico shrugs, his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, you too, Pico.” Y/n says before walking away, Pico weakly raising a hand to wave her goodbye.

“Ew, fucking weirdos.”

[peppermintquartz]

Chris opens the door and embraces Deacon in a warm welcome. He hugs her back with one arm, the other holding flowers and a case of beer. It feels almost like old times.

"It's been too long, man," she chides. "Come on in. Street's so excited, he's gone out to get this amazing tiramisu we found on one of our dates."

"You didn't have to go to that much trouble," Deacon says, smiling. "Oh that smells great."

"My aunt gave me a surefire chili recipe. We've tested it several times, it's definitely good."

"And you look good. How's everything? The shelter doing okay?"

"Yeah," says Chris. "Thanks to Nichelle, I got in touch with some sympathetic ears and they've been super generous, and I've been able to find a steady roster of volunteers. Plus, with our rep, we're left alone for the most part, and anyone trying anything gets warned off fast by the ones running the block."

Deacon makes a face. "Not sure if that's the safest way to go about things."

"Gotta work both sides of the law now," Chris says with a shrug. Deacon means well but he's still a straight white man who has always lived in privilege. "But my girls are all on the straight and narrow. I've fourteen of them with me, and six have found sponsors to help them to get work permits, which will help with getting full documentation. I'm helping another two cooperate with police because they were smuggled here after being sold by their parents for cash, and the rest... well, we'll get there." She grimaces before grinning. "Sorry. I get excited talking about my work."

"No, no it's good. I'm happy for you." Deacon hands her the colorful bouquet and the beer. "It's great that you found your purpose."

Thanking him for the gifts and rummaging around for a vase or jug for the flowers, she asks, "So how come you're here alone? I was under the impression that it'll be you and Annie. Wine?"

"Water, please. I'm driving." Deacon sits down in one of the chairs around the dining table. She wonders what he notices about the place on his second visit. It's a cozy apartment, despite the industrial elements; she especially likes the new potted herbs Street has insisted upon, even though neither of them can tell a cabbage from a lettuce.

"I, uh, I wanted to chat with you, actually. Not, not chat." Deacon says as he rubs his wedding ring. "I want your advice on something that I need you to keep secret."

An odd feeling tickles the back of her neck. She sits down in the chair beside him, wondering if she should hold her friend's hand. "Sounds serious."

"I think it is." He takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly, like he's planning to dive into the deep end of a pool. "Chris, how and w-when did you know you're bisexual?"

Chris' eyebrows shoot up. That is definitely not a question she was expecting. "Uh. Okay. For me, I was fifteen and really into a boy, a classmate." Enrique Garcia, she recalls, lean and athletic with the cutest freckle on his right cheek, with a shoulder-length mop of gleaming dark curls. "And then, one day, I met him and his older sister Alina at the mall. She was really nice when we talked and my mind kinda went a little insane thinking how pretty she was and how much I'd love to kiss her."

"And that was... That was how you knew?"

She shrugs. "Some reading up and some very confusing dreams later, I kinda figured it out." She angles her head and studies Deacon. "Are you...?"

"Fifteen, wow." Deacon chews on his lower lip. The tips of his ears are red and he can't meet her eyes. "Maybe I'm too old for this."

"You met someone who's causing you to question everything you knew about your sexuality?"

He ducks his head, still fiddling with his wedding ring. "Yes," he admits quietly. "And I know, I know it's not good, I'm married and I have Annie, it's just really..."

Chris smiles and holds his forearm. "Confusing."

"So confusing," Deacon agrees with a brief chuckle. His voice sounds so unsure and lost that it's disorienting for Chris. That isn't the Deacon she has known for the past decade. "Annie is the perfect woman for me. Like, once I met her and got to know her, I knew she was the one I wanted to marry and have a family with. And I thought that was it. That that is all I would ever need or want."

"But now you've met someone. Some guy."

Ducking his head, Deacon bites his lip and shakes his head. "I'm over fifty, Chris. I shouldn't be having sexuality crises at this age. But, yes. I met some guy."

"He's that special, huh." Chris hopes she doesn't sound judgmental. Having been through this with her own family, she feels for him. And a part of her feels honored that someone she respects so much will choose to come out to her. "Am I the first to know?"

"Yes." He clears his throat. "I never thought I would be interested in a man like that. And yet... I feel happy whenever I see him. I worry about him at work. I hear a song on the radio and it'll remind me of him."

There's something that Deacon is hiding. After so many years as a cop and now helping scared women, she's learned to read between the lines.

Still holding his forearm, she says, "Thanks for trusting me with this, Deac. I'm so honored by your trust."

He sniffs and finally looks at her, his eyes dewy with a hint of tears. "Chris, am I bisexual?"

"You could be," she says. "I can't answer for you. I'm not some mind reader for queer people. You might be attracted to women in general and one guy in particular, and that's normal. Sexuality is a spectrum and the great thing is, you get to define yourself. It may feel overwhelming-"

"Understatement of the year."

"-but I can point you in the direction of some websites or resources you can refer to. Don't be surprised if any are angled at teens, though. Most people who are questioning tend to be young."

"Unlike this old geezer," Deacon jokes weakly. She squeezes his forearm as she grins, then lets go of him.

"You're never too old to learn new tricks, Deac." Taking a deep breath, Chris leans closer and says, "I'm gonna ask something that may be invasive, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but you may feel better if you do."

Deacon sighs like he knows what's coming and looks at her.

"Are you seeing this guy?"

The guilt that flickers over Deacon's face tells Chris enough.

"Oh, Deac..." She pulls him into a hug.

"I'm sorry, you shouldn't have to know about that," he murmurs.

She squeezes him and pulls back enough to smile at him. "I'm your friend, Deac. But you know you can't have him."

He nods, pressing his lips tightly together. "I know. I wish... I don't know what I wish. But Chris... Chris, I'm so happy when I'm with him." There's a waver in his voice. "I didn't know that I could even be this happy with anyone."

Not even with Annie.

The words are not said, but she hears them as clear as day. She hugs him again.

They hear the keys jingle and Deacon straightens, rubbing his thumb and index finger over his eyes while clearing his throat.

"Hey, Deacon!" Street comes in with an insulated bag and Chris stands up to welcome him with a kiss. His dimples deepen and his eyes light up. "Hey babe. Deac, come here, bring it in."

Deacon smiles and hugs Street. The mask has fallen back in place over Deacon's face and Chris makes sure hers is present too.

"I'll go plate up dinner," she says with a smile, kissing Street again as she passes him and takes the tiramisu from his hands, leaving the two men to catch up. Deacon won't tell Street what he told her; that's not the friendship they have, and she knows he trusts her not to tell anyone what he's revealed to her.

It's not her secret to tell, and Deacon will need time. He'll do the right thing, she's sure. She only hopes he figures out what the right thing for him will be.

[dyns33]

Communication issues

A little Shane x female reader, without any zombies

Y/N quickly told Lori about it, because she didn't know how to talk to Shane about it without him taking it the wrong way.

Shane often took things the wrong way. Oh, he wasn't yelling at her, he wasn't hitting her, but he was reacting like a stupid child, not listening, not trying to understand, just feeling criticized and attacked, and preferring to run away to the bar for hours, before coming back to finally hear what she wanted to say to him.

It would have been the same for this subject, if not worse. Because sex was obviously a very important subject to Shane.

So important that they had been fucking at least three times a day since they met, which was almost a year ago.

Y/N wasn’t complaining. Not complaining at all. Shane was a very gifted, very considerate lover. But this limitless libido was starting to tire her a little, and above all to intrigue her.

Completely honest, he had told her about all his previous relationships, even the one that had only lasted one night. There had been many. He started very young.

It might have seemed stupid, but Y/N wondered if it meant something, if Shane didn't have a problem. Maybe he was repressing things, maybe he was looking for some form of affection, maybe there was a hormonal problem.

It wasn't mean, she was just worried about him. And as she knew he wouldn't understand, she spoke about it to Lori, who looked at her with wide eyes.

"… Three times per day ?"

“Is that the only thing you remember from what I just said? ”

"Three times per day."

"Yes. And I'm not complaining ! If I tell him no, Shane doesn't force me either, but he goes into the bathroom and stays there for a very long time, if you know what I mean. You think that he has a problem ? Maybe he should see a doctor ? To talk, or get some medicine."

“You want him to stop ?”

"No ! I just want to understand why he behaves like a rabbit in heat absolutely all the time, if it's normal or if it's something else. It's for his own good, you can't hear his heart beat super fast when he falls asleep."

Lori found her fears a little absurd, but adorable. She couldn't really help her, though, because her husband wasn't as productive, so she had no other point of comparison.

Her advice was to talk to Shane about it, or watch if he seemed to be having a heart attack mid-coitus.

Not finding the words to explain her apparently imaginary fears, Y/N opted for the second option and everything went well.

Until one evening when Shane returned from patrol, tired, visibly disturbed, and remaining in the hall while she was cooking.

"Shane ? Are you okay ?"

"… Yes."

"I'm doing some chili. I hope you're hungry. How was your day ? Did you catch any bad guys ?"

"No, calm day. I'm going to take a shower, baby."

This was normal. Shane always took a long shower after his work. This time it was a little long, but that wasn't the problem.

The problem was that he hadn't kissed her when he arrived, he hadn't asked her to come with him, and he hadn't kissed her before leaving the room.

But Y/N didn’t say anything. He must have been tired.

They chatted for the rest of the evening, watched a movie together, and then it was time for bed, and normalcy was completely shattered, when Shane quickly kissed her on the forehead and wished her good night, before to lie down with your back to her.

He kissed her on the forehead, before turning his back ?

There were some nights where he didn't even wait for them to arrive in the room before throwing himself on her, his hands roaming her body, his lips never leaving her mouth. It could last for hours, and when they fell asleep, it was always in each other's arms.

Shane must have been really tired.

However, the night passed, and things did not return to complete normal. He still kissed her on the forehead the next day, wishing her a good day. He didn't hesitate when she told him he loved her, responding that he loved her too with a strange little smile.

He responded to her messages. He called her during his lunch break. In fact, he was doing absolutely everything as usual, except touching her.

Y/N decided that maybe he was sick. He had a fever, he was afraid of infecting her, and instead of talking to her, he kept his distance.

On the third day, she woke up alone in bed and found him asleep on the couch. Gently, she touched his forehead, perfectly normal, and she had to accept the truth.

Physically, Shane was fine. There was another problem.

They could have talked about it. At least try. But he was rarely there because of his work, and he hated communicating. Y/N had figured that out a long time ago. His actions always had to be deciphered, and his actions were clear.

He didn't love her anymore. He didn't know how to tell her, so he gradually moved away, until he wouldn't come home at all.

Like with a bandage, she could have forced him to tell her, so that he would end her suffering, but Y/N wanted him to stay as long as possible, so she said nothing, staying alone in their big cold bed, and accepting his quick kisses on her head.

The tears flowed on Sunday, during girls' night at Michonne. Her friends asked her if everything was okay, and she broke down.

"He's going to leave me…"

"What ?! No ! Shane adores you, I've never seen him so happy with anyone !"

"He doesn't touch me anymore. He sleeps in the living room."

"What a bastard ! Do you think he's cheating on you ?"

“Andrea, you’re not helping.” Carol sighed, stroking Y/N’s back. "He may have personal issues. Lori, does Rick know something about it ?"

"He didn't tell me anything. You know how men are, they don't talk or they talk too much. My husband is the first type of jerk."

Y/N continued to cry, leaving the others to debate about the men and the reasons that could push Shane to act like this.

Then she felt very tired, apologizing and saying she wanted to be alone. Leaving the girls in the kitchen, she went into the living room, sitting down in an armchair to think about all this.

Bangs against glass startled her. Looking up, she found Shane pressed against the window, staring at her with panicked eyes.

“Shane ?” she whispered, getting up to open it for him. "What are you doing here ?"

"Lori called Rick to tell him I'm a huge asshole."

"What ?"

He didn't give her time to continue, pressing himself against her as before, taking her to the bathroom without stopping kissing her. He looked like a hungry, desperate animal, unable to stop himself from touching her.

"Baby. My love… Do you know that I love you like crazy ?"

“It’s been pretty confusing for a week.”

"I know. Rick told me on Monday that I was stupid. I wanted to stop on Tuesday, but it started to feel like a gamble, so I continued."

"… What are you talking about ?"

So Shane explained to her. He explained to her that Lori had told her husband about her fears, and his best friend had told him about it.

Of course, as Y/N predicted, Shane took it a little badly. He didn't understand what she criticized about their pace of copulation, while he made a lot of effort not to stay in bed all day with her.

So he had an idea, a stupid idea. It couldn't have lasted more than a day, but he was going to go home and he wasn't going to do anything. He wasn’t going to touch her, and if Y/N wasn’t happy, then she would have to do the work.

But Y/N hadn’t done anything, because she had thought he was tired, and because she didn’t need sex all the time. This had frustrated him greatly. Disappointed. He had spent a lot of time alone with himself, even in the bathroom, in other rooms of the house, at work, in the street, wandering like a lost dog without his owner.

"Rick made fun of me, saying that I looked like a zombie the next day. That it was proof that you were right, that I was like an addict in withdrawal. So I kept going, to prove it wasn't true… Except it was kind of true. I couldn't stay in bed with you right next to me anymore. It was too hard."

“Because you love sex.”

"No. Because I love you. It's you, darling. As soon as I see you, as soon as I hear your laugh, when you say my name, when you touch me… I'm addicted to you. Before, I would find a girl every now and then, I liked to fuck, but it wasn't the same. With you… It's like breathing, you know ? Rick also made fun of me when I tried to explain it to him, saying that I was a romantic fool. I love it when we become one, and when I know I'm making you feel good. That's my way to.. You know."

“Oh, Shane.”

Since he wasn't good with words, Shane continued his grand declaration of love using his tongue differently, his hands sliding over her body like a poet writing verses, and he chanted her name over and over until what saw stars.

Andrea entered the bathroom after they had just finished. She looked at them before quickly closing the door.

"… Oops." Shane chuckled nervously as he put his pants back on.

"You're kidding me…"

"Maybe she didn't see us well. I can try to jump out the window and you return to the living room with your dignity."

“Andrea clearly saw us, and she probably already told the others everything.”

"Sorry baby, I was so focused on you, I didn't think to lock the door. I know you're modest."

He held her hand for her walk of shame into the hall. The girls were waiting for them there with slightly embarrassed smiles.

"Hey everyone. Michonne, nice bathroom." said Shane as if everything was normal.

“I’ll clean it up after the party.”

“You better, yes.”

“Shane…” Y/N muttered as she closed her eyes, her cheeks almost as warm as when they were in the bathroom.

"Okay, it's late. I'm working early tomorrow, so I'll leave you. Y/N, see you at home ? Have a nice evening."

He kissed her before leaving, as he always kissed her before leaving a room, without caring about their audience.

Y/N stayed in the middle of the room, biting her lips while stroking her hickey-covered neck, and avoiding the mischievous looks of her friends.

"It seems… It seems he doesn't want to break up with me."

"I knew it. He's just an idiot."

"A very gifted idiot, from what I've seen and heard."

"Andrea. Try to think before you speak."

She wasn't wrong, he was very talented, and he used his talents to communicate all his love with everything other than words, which wasn't always a good thing, but Y/N wasn't complaining.

Next time she would speak to him directly, even if he might sulk a little, because he would always come back to listen at the end.

[baby-yongbok]

Congratulations on getting tickets. I'm so happy for you.

I feel like an angel gets its wings whenever a stay gets tickets. Lol

Have a blast!

Can't wait to hear about it if you share

Thank you!

I'm so excited you have no idea. I literally dreamt about it last night. I'll definitely share my experience, and I'm gonna have to start clearing my camera roll now to make room for all of the pictures and videos I'm gonna take 😭

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 11/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE

TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

                “A fishing boat?” Bradley asks, pulling a face. “Really?”

                “You said you wanted to be in the Navy. Are you scared of a little seasickness?”

                “No. I just…”

                “Understanding and appreciating our food, from where we harvest it, or take it, is all important. Learning what fresh really looks like is also very important when it come to fish and seafood hmm?”

                “Oh yeah, I guess that’s true,” Bradley says, thinking of Johan’s ability to look at fish and simply pick the best pieces.

                “Also a week in Greece is not the end of the world hmm?”

                “Okay, you deliberately made it sound like I was going on a fishing boat in the North Sea, not a… charter boat for a week in Greece.”

                “Hmm. You will earn your stay. But I think you will enjoy the change of scenery.”

                Bradley had no idea how Leandro knows him so well, but he finds himself the sole chef on a charter yacht for a group of six tourists. They’re American, and once they realize he’s also American they stop speaking slowly and loudly, chat happily to him while he cooks. He fishes and dives with them during the day, makes breakfasts and lunches and then cooks what they’ve caught that day. He doesn’t recognize any of them, but when the week ends a couple of them tip him heavily, even though he tries to insist there isn’t any need. Then one of them passes him a business card.

                “If you ever consider setting up shop back home, look me up. I’d be interested in supporting you. And eating more of your food.”

…            …            …

                “Holy shit. Bradley Bradshaw.”

                “Yeah. Hello again…”

                “You’ve met already?” Jake asks, looking between Bradley and who must be his sister. She’s maybe a few years older, hair the same color but longer, tied back in a plait. Bradley finds himself automatically nodding, although he’s also hoping that her surprise is that he’s at her front door, and not because she’s starstruck. She hadn’t seemed at all perturbed when he’d met her on Saturday with the film crew trailing him. Turning up with her brother shouldn’t be any more alarming, surely?

                “Yeah, at the Farmers Market in the weekend,” Bradley starts. “I tried the chili jam, it was really good. Bought a few jars.”

                “Oh cool. Well, then I don’t need to introduce you. Well, her name is Maria if you need a reminder. I call him Leo because Bradley Bradshaw sounds made up.”

                He’s glad Jake has provided a name, and he notes Maria’s eyebrows shoot up and god, he’s been enjoying Jake’s complete disregard for Bradley’s fame, whether it’s real or contrived he doesn’t care. He doesn’t think Jake would care, if he did know, but it’s also really nice not having any expectations put on him from the person he’s with. The last few days have been great, reminding him of his younger years in Europe.

                “Leo is the name my Italian family call me. Short for Leonardo.”

                “I definitely prefer Leo,” Jake says, grinning at him and he follows his lead in taking his shoes off, putting the bags of ingredients and previous iterations of sauce down. “Keep forgetting your name is actually Bradley Bradshaw…”

                Maria makes a high-pitched sound Bradley can only guess is a choked off laugh and he grimaces and shrugs his shoulders, tries to convey that he’s doing the best he can and Maria is just looking at him and shaking her head, her eyes wide as she looks between him and her brother.

                “Um, yeah, okay, hi again. Jake said you were after some help with… tasting things. Right. You’ve been… trying to feed him,” Maria says, now looking at Jake. “Wow…”

                “Yeah. He’s pretty decent. Not as good as grandma, or even you or Olivia, but he hasn’t killed me yet.”

                Bradley clenches his jaw to stop himself from laughing outright, his eyes not leaving Maria’s face, and she looks equal parts mortified but also like she’s also trying not to laugh again. She makes a little high-pitched sound and Bradley has to pretend to cough as a burst of laughter makes its way out. She definitely knows who he is, had known on Saturday when he’d been walking around with the film crew but she’d been very chilled and laid back, hadn’t even asked for a selfie.

                “What chores need doing? I can go and do whatever it was you were planning on doing and instead you can help Leo with his new recipe… I like your cooking, but I am kind of over tasting the same thing over and over and you expecting me to be able to taste the difference,” he says to Bradley. Bradley looks back at Maria who has covered her mouth with both her hands and closed her eyes, had her head tilted back like she’s hoping the ceiling has answers.

                “Thank you, I’ll try my best not to poison your sister…”

                “Oh god…” Maria says from behind her hands.

                “Thanks. Appreciate it. Maria, you okay?”

                Maria wipes at her eyes, waves away Jake’s concerns saying it’s the pollen making them itch and hands Jake a piece of paper with writing on it and he tucks it into his pocket.

                “I’ll be back.”

                Then he’s kissing him, his thigh slotting between Bradley’s and he finds himself almost being dipped and he knows he’s flushing bright red, wonders if that was Jake’s whole aim, trying to embarrass him. It’s over quickly, although he’s not sure if that is a good thing or not.

                “Don’t be mean,” Jake says to Maria, and then he’s tugging boots on, grabbing the same cowboy hat Bradley remembers him wearing on Saturday.

                “When am I ever mean?”

                “Only every day of my life,” Jake says with a grin, but then he’s tipping the hat and Bradley bites his lip as he watches him stride back outside. Hmm.

                “So, you’re Leo. I had no idea he was bringing you around.”

                A little reluctantly he stops watching Jake stride off, and he turns to find Maris watching him, eyes amused and he smiles.

                “Yeah. I gathered he hadn’t told you when you said holy shit first thing when you opened the door. He and I met years ago, in Italy. He said he told his sister?”

                At that Maria’s lips twitch and Bradley starts feeling a little uneasy.

                “Did he say which one?”

                “Uh. No?”

                “Has he mentioned exactly how many sisters he has?” Maria asks, and she’s folding her arms and leaning back, watching him and Bradley feels like he’s being tested. That’s fine. If he can survive the Gallo family he can survive Jake’s sisters. Why he feels like he needs to survive or befriend Jake’s sister isn’t something he’s going to examine too closely but… he likes to think he’s a nice guy when he isn’t stressed out.

                “Not exactly? But… three? I mean, I know he’s the youngest. And there’s a sister with kids because he babysat them on Monday night.”

                “Sandra.”

                “And then his sister who he told about meeting me in Italy? And that isn’t you?”

                “Hmm. He only told me about meeting you in Italy on Sunday, so… it was probably Nicola when it happened originally.”

                “Okay. So. Jake just mentioned an Olivia, so… four? That’s my best guess. Four.”

                He can’t even imagine having four older sisters, having Violet is bad enough, although he calls her cousin he sometimes wonders how much closer they’d be if they were actually siblings. She’s his best friend.

                “Nope. Five. You’re missing Amanda. She’s Nicola’s twin.”

                “Five sisters. Holy shit.”

                “What about you? Big family?”

                “No. All the stuff about me losing both my parents is true. I’ve got a big Italian family that informally adopted me though…”

                “So he met you, and you bumped into each other on Saturday and now you’re…”

                She doesn’t finish the sentence and he’s grateful, although the look she gives him clearly spells out exactly what she’s thinking. She grabs some of the bags at his feet and jerks her head for him to follow her.

                “So you’ve told him your name, he’s just…Oh my god… he has no idea who you are.”

                “You think so? I kind of like it,” Bradley admits and Maria’s shaking her head.

                “Oh, he’ll have no idea. He’s smart, but he’s also fucking oblivious. Also I’m judging you. He adds sauce to nearly everything…”

                “Yeah. I’ve noticed.”

                “Well, he had really bad reflux as a baby. Like… he needed an operation to fix it type bad. He was such a picky eater as a kid, drove us mad. We got around it by pretty much putting sauce on everything.”

                “Oh…” Bradley murmurs, and he’d wondered. He sets out the ingredients and the little containers of sauce saved from his previous attempts.

                “Yeah. Obviously he’s an adult now, he doesn’t have to add sauce, but if he has the choice?”

                “On it goes. Right. Okay…”

                “Yeah. You okay with that?”

                “Of course. He’s not making me eat it. I’m not…” he shrugs helplessly, wants to try and say he’s not the uptight and angry chef that that TV producers like to portray him as. Sure he has a temper, but it’s definitely not as bad or as frequent as they make it seem. He also knows he's got something of a resting bitch-face. At least that's what Vi calls it.

                “Hmm. Thought so. Anyway, Jake doesn’t cook. He’d never watch a cooking show. Doesn’t like reality TV at all… If you wanted to keep it on the downlow you could. I don’t think he’d accidentally stumble across you. And I can keep my mouth shut.”

                “I don’t want to keep it a secret from him or anything. He knows it’s my job. And he knows my name…”

                “Okay. So… not to be super crude but you’re just, uh, hooking up right?”

                “I mean… yeah.”

                “Well. If you decide you want something more than hooking up with him, you’re going to have to spell it out, be really obvious. More obvious than you think you need to be. And I have an idea for showing just how oblivious he can potentially be…”

TWELVE

[wethotcrazy]

SYMPATHY IS A KNIFE (v)

pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 3143

part 5. WE ARE IN SINGAPORE. anyways lets be real Yn probably isn't gonna be taking any P1s just yet but this is like next best thing. this is a long one!!

part i part ii part iii part iv

As Yn and Yuki landed in Singapore, a wave of excitement washed over them. The vibrant city sprawled out beneath them, illuminated with shimmering lights and the promise of adventure. They had arrived a bit early, eager to explore before the chaotic energy of race weekend took over. Yn felt a thrill at the thought of wandering through the bustling streets, tasting the local cuisine, and soaking up the atmosphere without the usual pressures of competition hanging over their heads.

Once they checked into their hotel, they headed out, laughing as they navigated the lively streets of Clarke Quay. The sounds of laughter and music enveloped them, and the smell of delicious food wafted through the air, making Yn’s stomach rumble. They stopped at a food stall, trying everything from satay to spicy noodle dishes. Yuki’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he challenged her to eat a particularly spicy chili, his laughter ringing out as she gasped and grabbed for her drink.

Between bites, they chatted about everything from their plans for the race to their favorite things about being in such a lively city. Yuki’s playful banter lightened the weight that often rested on Yn’s shoulders, reminding her that they were more than just drivers—they were friends navigating the same tumultuous world of Formula 1.

They wandered through the bustling streets, marveling at the towering skyscrapers and neon lights that danced against the backdrop of the night sky. Yn loved how alive everything felt—the rhythmic pulse of the city seemed to mirror her own heart, full of anticipation and joy. Indulging in some local street food—Yuki claiming he would conquer the spiciest dish they could find—they set out to explore the famous Gardens by the Bay. The breathtaking scenery enveloped them as they strolled through the Supertree Grove, the towering tree-like structures glowing in brilliant colors as the sun began to set. The atmosphere felt surreal, and they found themselves lost in the beauty of the moment, their worries fading away as they enjoyed the simplicity of being together.

As the night wore on, they ran into a few fans who were quick to approach them, excited but respectful. The fans were polite, asking for selfies and expressing their support. Yn felt a rush of warmth at their kind words; it was a reminder that people saw her for who she was, not just a driver. Yuki, ever the charmer, engaged with them effortlessly, his natural charisma shining through. They posed for photos, and Yn couldn’t help but notice how comfortable and at ease he was, making sure everyone felt included and appreciated.

Online, the moments they shared throughout the day sparked chatter among fans. Videos and pictures circulated, highlighting their genuine laughter and connection, with many commenters buzzing about how close they seemed.

@F1Lovebirds: “Yn and Yuki are seriously the cutest! I love their energy!”

@GridGoddess: “Anyone else think they’d make a great couple? They just vibe so well!”

@RacingRomantics: “I want what they have. I can’t handle how sweet they are!”

Yn scrolled through the comments later that night, her heart swelling at the support and admiration they were receiving. But she also felt a pang of vulnerability—speculation about their relationship made her wonder how much of their friendship would be perceived through the lens of romance. Part of her enjoyed the attention, but another part wished for the freedom to simply be without the added scrutiny.

“Hey, all good?” Yuki asked as they settled down at a cozy café for a late-night snack, the soft glow of fairy lights overhead creating an intimate atmosphere.

“Just thinking about stuff,” Yn admitted, her voice quiet. “I mean… I love that people are excited about us, but sometimes it feels a little overwhelming, you know?”

Yuki leaned back in his chair, considering her words. “I get it. But we’re just having fun. What they think doesn’t change that. They could say whatever they want.”

His words brought a smile to her face. “Yeah, it’s just nice to have this time together, just us.”

They spent the rest of the evening sharing stories, laughter spilling between them like the vibrant city lights outside. Yn realized that moments like these were invaluable—a reminder of why they were both in this sport, why they fought through the pressures, the scrutiny, and the expectations. It wasn’t just about racing; it was about the connections they forged, the support they offered one another, and the joy they found in every shared experience.

As they wrapped up their evening and strolled back toward their hotel, the city humming around them, Yn felt a renewed sense of determination. Here, amidst the wonders of Singapore, she felt freer than she had in a long time. She was carving out her own narrative, one that was as complex and vibrant as the city itself—and Yuki was right there with her, cheering her on every step of the way.

The start of race weekend in Singapore was proving to be more challenging than Yn had anticipated. It was her first time racing on this particular circuit, and the high humidity mixed with the sweltering heat made the already hectic schedule feel even more overwhelming. The relentless sun beat down on her during practice, and she quickly realized just how demanding the conditions would be for both her and the car.

From the moment she stepped into the paddock, it was a whirlwind of activity. Briefings filled with strategy discussions, meetings with her team to go over data from the simulator, media obligations that left little room for downtime—each day blurred into the next. Press conferences were particularly grueling, especially when the questions turned toward her performance as a female driver in a male-dominated sport. While she knew the media was just doing their job, the scrutiny felt like a weight pressing down on her shoulders, a reminder that every misstep would be amplified.

During practice sessions, Yn had been determined to find her rhythm on the track, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that simmered beneath the surface. Each lap was a test of her skill and focus, yet the oppressive heat and humidity started to wear on her. She found herself snapping at her engineers during discussions over telemetry data, the frustration bubbling up unexpectedly. “Can we please just focus on what I need instead of going over every single detail?” she’d said sharply during one debrief, immediately regretting the edge in her tone.

Yuki, who had been observing her during the practices, approached her after one particularly intense session. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle yet concerned. “You seem a bit on edge.”

Yn took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “I’m fine, just... it’s a lot, you know? New circuit, media obligations, and this heat. It’s just getting to me.” She brushed her hair back, the damp strands sticking to her forehead, the sweat making her feel sticky and uncomfortable.

Yuki nodded, understanding. “It’s a tough weekend for everyone, but I think you’re doing great. Just remember to breathe. You’ve got this.” His words were a soothing balm, and she felt a flicker of gratitude toward him.

Despite her frustrations, Yn was resolute about performing well in qualifying and race day. She pushed the worries aside and channeled her energy into the upcoming sessions. Each time she sat in the car, she felt a surge of adrenaline wash over her, the familiar thrill of racing reminding her why she loved the sport.

As the weekend progressed, she began to adapt to the unique challenges of the circuit, finding her groove with each passing lap. But with each session, the pressure seemed to mount. She kept replaying the conversations in her head, the constant reminders of the expectations placed upon her, not just from her team but from the world watching. The heat felt stifling, but so did the weight of being a female driver in Formula 1, a spotlight on her every move.

On the evening before qualifying, Yn found a moment of respite on the balcony of her hotel room, gazing out at the shimmering skyline of Singapore. The lights from the buildings twinkled like stars against the night sky, a stark contrast to the turmoil in her mind. She took a deep breath, allowing the cool breeze to refresh her spirit, feeling the adrenaline mix with a flicker of hope.

“Hey,” Yuki’s voice broke her reverie as he joined her on the balcony, holding two glasses of water. “Thought you could use this. Plus, I wanted to check in on you before qualifying tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking the glass from him. “I really appreciate it.”

Yuki leaned against the railing beside her, both of them taking in the view. “You know, it’s okay to feel stressed. This place is intense, and it’s your first time here. But just remember that you’re capable of handling it. Focus on what you can control.”

She turned to him, the warmth of his presence easing some of her tension. “I know. I... I just don’t want to let anyone down.”

“You won’t. You’ll do great” he encouraged, and the sincerity in his tone lifted a weight from her chest.

As they talked, Yn felt herself relaxing, the pressures of the day melting away. They reminisced about their earlier adventures in the city, laughing at their stupid jokes and how spicy Yuki had dared to go with his food. In that moment, surrounded by the bright lights and his comforting presence, she felt a renewed sense of determination wash over her.

Qualifying day had set the stage, the pressure mounting in the relentless heat of Singapore. Yn and Yuki had pushed themselves to the limits, battling through the oppressive humidity and the fierce competition. The cars had roared to life, and in the sweltering atmosphere, both drivers managed to secure places in Q3—a promising start that filled them with excitement and anticipation for race day.

Race day, however, proved to be even more intense. Yn felt the sweat trickle down her back as she climbed into her car, her mind honed in on the task ahead. The heat weighed heavily on everyone, and it was evident in the aggressive driving style both she and Yuki adopted. They were in it to win, and every radio communication crackled with urgency and determination.

As the lights went out, Yn launched off the grid, heart pounding in rhythm with the roaring engines around her. The initial laps blurred together in a haze of speed and precision. She navigated the twists and turns of the circuit, feeling the g-forces push her into her seat as she fought to maintain her position. Yuki was right there with her, their racing instincts aligned, pushing each other in a way that felt instinctive and electric.

The race unfolded with its share of challenges—overtakes, near misses, and the constant pressure of the cars behind them. Yn found herself in a fierce battle for points, each lap a test of strategy and skill. As the laps counted down, the heat and humidity intensified, leaving the drivers drenched in sweat and fatigue. Yet, she thrived on it, her hunger for success driving her to dig deeper. Yuki, too, was relentless, each maneuver echoing his fierce determination to prove himself on the world stage.

As the final laps approached, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. Yn could feel her heart racing in time with the countdown, the roar of the crowd a distant background to her single-minded focus. When she crossed the finish line, the realization took a moment to sink in. 

Her engineer’s voice broke through the adrenaline haze, congratulating her with uncontainable excitement. “Yn, you’ve finished P3! Amazing job!”

Overjoyed, Yn barely registered the rest of the world around her as she climbed out of the car. The buzz of the pit lane enveloped her, her team rushing to congratulate her, their faces beaming with pride. She thanked them, her voice shaky with emotion, but her joy turned to elation when she spotted Yuki.

Without thinking, she ran straight into his arms, and he spun them both around, laughter spilling from their lips. “You did it! I’m so proud of you!” he exclaimed, the joy evident in his eyes.

“I can’t believe it! Thank you for being such a great teammate!” Yn replied, her heart soaring as they embraced. This moment, so filled with raw emotion and camaraderie, was quickly captured by the ever-watchful cameras, fans, and reporters.

As they parted, Yuki beamed at her, his energy infectious. Then giving her a final encouraging pat on the back before she headed toward the cool-down room.

Back in the paddock, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement as footage of their spontaneous celebration spread like wildfire on social media. Fans captured the genuine connection between the two drivers, their laughter echoing through the comments sections.

“#YNYuki: The duo we didn’t know we needed!” one fan tweeted, accompanied by clips of their embrace.

“Can we talk about how supportive Yuki is? This is what we love to see!” another comment read, reflecting the admiration fans felt toward their bond.

As Yn prepared for her first podium appearance, she felt a mix of nerves and elation. The cameras were flashing, and the cheers of the crowd were a sweet symphony. She took a moment to collect her thoughts, reminding herself of the long journey that had led her here—the sacrifices, the struggles, the relentless hunger for success that had driven her forward.

When she stepped onto the podium, the weight of the trophy in her hands felt like the culmination of all her hard work. She stood tall, beaming at the crowd, soaking in the moment as the British national anthem played. Yuki stood in the crowd, his pride radiating, and as the winners lifted their trophies, Yn felt a sense of belonging wash over her.

This was her moment. Not just as a female driver in a male-dominated sport, but as a driver who had proven herself time and time again. The hunger for success had fueled her journey, and with Yuki by her side, she felt ready to face whatever came next. Together, they had carved out a space where they could thrive, and as the crowd cheered, Yn knew this was just the beginning of what they could achieve.

After Yn’s exhilarating P3 finish, the adrenaline from the race still coursed through her veins, but there was little time to bask in the glory. Media obligations awaited, a whirlwind of interviews, press conferences, and flashing cameras that always accompanied a podium finish. As she walked into the media center, her heart raced—not from the pressure of the spotlight, but from the sheer thrill of her achievement.

Surprisingly, the press conferences went smoothly. Journalists were eager to hear from her, and Yn found herself responding with a confidence she hadn’t anticipated. Questions ranged from her race strategy to her thoughts on the heat of Singapore, and each inquiry felt less like an interrogation and more like an opportunity to share her journey.

“Yn, what was going through your mind as you crossed the finish line?” one reporter asked, a genuine smile lighting up her face.

“I honestly couldn’t believe it!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. “I was just focused on giving it my all, and to end up on the podium? It’s a dream come true. I’ve worked so hard for this, and I couldn’t have done it without my amazing team.”

Throughout the press conferences, Yn noticed how the other drivers had rallied around her, offering their congratulations. Max, Lando, and even Charles made a point to praise her performance, their camaraderie palpable. Their kind words felt like validation, a warm reminder that while competition was fierce, the respect among drivers ran deep.

“Great drive out there, Yn!” Lando said, grinning widely as he shook her hand. “You made it look easy!”

“Thanks, Lando! You weren’t too shabby yourself,” she replied, her tone playful.

Afterward, she took a moment to step aside, pulling out her phone to call her parents. As it rang, she felt a wave of excitement wash over her. They had supported her from the very beginning, believing in her even when the world sometimes didn’t.

“Hey, Mom! Dad!” she exclaimed when her mother picked up. “You won’t believe it! I finished P3 in Singapore!”

There was a moment of silence before her mother’s delighted shriek filled the line. “Oh my goodness! Yn, that’s incredible! We are so proud of you!”

Her dad chimed in, “I knew you could do it! You’ve been working so hard, and it’s all paying off!”

The conversation was filled with laughter and tears of joy as Yn recounted the highlights of the race, the adrenaline, and the thrill of standing on the podium. She could picture their proud smiles, imagining her mother jumping up and down in excitement.

After hanging up, a sense of warmth enveloped her. With her family cheering her on from afar, she felt unstoppable. As the media obligations wrapped up, Yn rejoined Yuki and a few of the other drivers for a quiet celebration.

They headed to a local restaurant, the atmosphere buzzing with energy yet providing a cozy escape from the chaos of the race weekend. Yn found herself seated next to Yuki, who was still riding high on the adrenaline of the race.

“You were amazing out there, too,” she told him, raising her glass to toast their achievements. “P5 is no small feat in that heat.”

“Thanks,” Yuki replied, his smile genuine as he clinked his glass against hers. “But honestly, watching you up there on the podium—there’s no one more deserving. You’ve worked so hard, and I’m really proud of you.”

“You too! I couldn’t have asked for a better teammate,” she replied, feeling the bond between them deepen.

As the evening wore on, laughter filled the air. The group shared stories, exchanged playful jabs, and recounted their race strategies. Yn couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so at ease—this was what she had longed for: a chance to celebrate her hard work with friends who understood the pressures of their world.

Social media buzzed with excitement, fans sharing clips and highlights from the day’s events, while hashtags like #YNOnThePodium and #TeamTsunoda trended. There was a sense of unity among the fans, a community that celebrated each driver’s achievements and supported them through the pressures of the sport.

As they settled into the rhythm of the night, Yn realized this was more than just a celebration of her P3 finish; it was a reminder of how far she had come. She had faced doubts and challenges, but with each race, she carved out a place for herself in a world that had often felt overwhelming. In a good way.

[archangeldyke-all]

(I honestly don’t know if my asks are getting in atp but im just gonna keep resending them if they get removed because I’m not a fucking wimp 🗣️‼️‼️)

______

Wait no because what if Sevika had a group chat with her coworkers and shit (Smeech, Ran, Renni, Silco, Finn, Signed, Dustin and ofc her lovely gf <3)

And at least once every two weeks there is ALWAYSSS chaos

Like; Sev and Finn could be arguing and then Ran pulls up with the fucking Curse of Ra 💀or Renni just uses the gc as a shopping list since she forgot to open notes and everyone is just like “Ren, wrong app 💀” or someone points out shit from her list HSHJERJD

PLEASE i'm gonna do the roach 'verse gang, because i think it would be insane.

men and minors dni

silco: if any of u have spare cash on u, bring it to my office and leave it on my desk. i'll pay u back tomorrow.

you: jinx, get off of silco's phone.

lock: fuck, that was jinx? i put ten on his desk!

sevika: idiot.

ran: LMAOOOO IDIOT

thieriam: shit, i put twenty bucks on his desk too.

you: jinx! how much fucking money did you steal?!

deckard: she got me too, that fucker.

ran: you are all so fucking stupid.

singed: just checked the office, the cash and jinx are nowhere to be found.

deckard: fuck!

lock: fuck

thieriam: oh fuck, silco's never gonna pay us back.

silco: no, i'm not. you should all know better by now. i would never use 'u' to type 'you'

ran: this is fucking hilarious

sevika: babe, what's for dinner?

you: you, if i'm lucky ;)

deckard: HELLO?? this is the gc??

sevika: stfu deckard.

ran: no but fr, what's for dinner, roach?

you: idk, i'm thinking chicken chili?

lock: ooooh, with cornbread?

you: sure, if you guys want.

lock: yes please!

ran: yes!!!

deckard: oh, yum.

singed: fuck, roach are you free?

you: yeah?

singed: i just sliced my hand open. can you come stitch me up?

you: lmao, i'm on the way.

ran: roach to the rescue!

sevika: put a heart in the chat if i'm the stupidest one in the gang.

deckard: <3

thieriam: <3

ran: LMAOO <3333333

you: <3

you: jinx, give sevika her phone back.

sevika: i'm gonna kill her someday.

sevika: babe, you put a fucking heart in the chat????

you: cant talk, stitching singed up.

silco: i'm sorry for jinx's behavior today. she's upset that she doesn't have her own phone yet.

lock: it's no fuckin fair! u guys get to talk all the time and i have to steal a phone to be in on the chat!

silco: jinx!

you: lmaoo jinx you can come play on my phone.

lock: fine.

lock: shit, i didn't even notice she took it until she gave it back.

sevika: she's a fuckin' weasel.

you: whats up assholes?

ran: hey jinx. what'd you buy with your stolen money?

you: more flamers. a few candy bars. a new jumbo plushy.

lock: you wanna share your candy?

you: no.

silco: jinx, at least share with the man you stole from.

you: ugh fine. they're in the kitchen lock.

lock: sweet!

thieriam: some of us are trying to work, can we please not abuse the work groupchat for not-work purposes

you: put a heart in the chat if thieriam sucks ass!

sevika: <3

ran: <3

deckard: <3

silco: jinx, what did i tell you about that kind of language?

you: i'm not jinx i'm roach.

thieriam: fuck off jinx, roach would never be so mean to me.

lock: <3

you: effective. Power. لُلُصّبُلُلصّبُررً h  ॣ ॣ ॣ

across from where you're finishing up singed's stitches, deckard gasps down at his phone.

"you fuck!" he exclaims, looking up at jinx where she's sitting beside you. she giggles.

"what'd you do this time?" you ask. she laughs and hands you back your phone, before running out of the lab.

"she shut all our phones down!" he says. "how the fuck did she do that?" he cries.

upstairs, you hear ran and lock's shared groan.

you chuckle and shake your head. "jinx you stupid fuck!" sevika roars from the second floor. you giggle.

"i better go handle that." you say, finishing your final stitch. singed chuckles.

"you better." he says as jinx's squeal floats down to the lab.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

[waklman]

Glue Song (Pt. 3)

summary: jake’s unsure if he could hide his feelings for you anymore.

pairing: jake seresin x female reader.

warnings: 18+ blog.

a/n: friends to lovers, suggestive themes 18+, pining, and angst. ahh final part is here! i had so much writing this, thank you for loving this story as much as i do.

word count: 2.6k.

previous part

Javy has never felt so guilty in his life. 

He thought he was doing his best friend a favor, cornering him to make a move on you—but watching Jake maneuver around like a soulless body on base for the past week kills him. 

What was worse was watching Jake’s face completely fall when he learned that Rooster has been texting you. 

Javy had to painfully force himself to stare down at his boots after seeing Jake’s reaction to Rooster asking him if he has any pictures of you—needing a contact picture set for you. 

Of course Jake has pictures of you. He had plenty. His favorite one being an off-guard picture he took after you woke up from a nap at his place. Sleepiness still had a hold on you but it was the exact moment where Jake thought you resembled an Angel. You were sitting in his wrinkled white sheets, mouth parted, shocked you slept through the whole day as you stared at the sun setting through his blinds. 

And Jake sends that photo over to Bradley, feeling like he ripped a piece of himself and just casually left it in Rooster’s care.

Despite not looking over at his friend anymore, Javy can feel the heartache radiate off of Jake from across the locker room. 

Jake stares blankly at the television in front of him. He’s tried to distract himself after today’s flight training by watching the office. 

But that was a grave mistake—him attempting to watch it without you, because it makes him think of you even more. He watches as Kevin drops down to his knees trying to scoop up the chili he spilled back into a tall pot and it makes Jake tear up rather than laugh. He began to pathetically empathize with the spilled pot of chili. 

Suddenly, his phone buzzes from the kitchen and he gets up to fish it from his bag on the counter, desperate to stop himself from crying at a sitcom series. 

Javy created a group chat, trying to find a remedy to the problem he caused. 

Jav 😎 & Angel 

Jav 😎: 

*attachment*

guys, this is us. 

Jake cracks a sad smile looking down at the picture Javy sent of three puppies cuddling on a soft throw blanket. 

Angel: 

*attachment* 

these two are me and jake :) 

His heart tugs as you sent back the same picture, but there’s a circle drawn around the two golden retrievers on the left. The smaller pup is slung over the bigger one, affectionately licking it’s face.  

Jav 😎:

Wow. 

leaving me out? 

I miss you guys. 

Jake 👱🏻‍♂️: 

*attachment* 

miss u too. 

Javy scoffs from where he stands in his apartment complex’s gym, staring down at the picture Jake sends back. It’s the same picture Javy sent earlier, but there’s an addition of a pink heart drawn between the two puppies on the left and a massive red X marked over the third puppy’s face. 

Jav 😎:

…Jerk.

Angel: 

Miss you too Javy! 

It’s Friday night and Jake watches earnestly as you wipe away at your lipstick for what feels like the tenth time, frustrated that you can’t find the right shade. Your eyes wander over the lip colors you brought over, weakly reaching for one that you haven’t tried yet. He lets out a soft sigh, sitting up from his bed and lightly pries the lipstick from your hand, dropping it down on the make-shift vanity he set up for you. 

Jake wordlessly guides you to stand up, carefully reaching for your wrist to lure you outside the confines of his bedroom. You follow closely behind, staring hard at his back, your mind swirling at what’s to come.

Ever since you came over to his apartment with a bag of things you needed to prepare for the night ahead, there were no words exchanged between the two of you besides a quiet greeting. You two sent friendly texts back and forth over the past few days in your group chat with Javy but you both never attempted to address the unknown conflict that stands between you two.

You mindlessly watch as he leads you through his empty hallway and right into his living room. Jake drops the feather light hold he had on your wrist. He tiredly settles down on his sofa, leaning his head back–face pointed towards the ceiling as his eyes shut in contemplation.

Jake listens to your feet shuffle closer towards him, feeling you finally sink down on the cushion beside him. 

You sit–legs criss-crossed over each other, body facing towards Jake’s side, observing how exhaustion was clearly written across his features. His skin is noticeably dull, making it hard for you to spot the birthmark that sat under his left eye that you loved so much. You fought off the urge to reach for his face, knowing the timing isn’t right. 

Jake thickly swallows, and you watch as that vein in his neck makes an appearance again. A guilty thought eats at you, you’re the reason why he’s so uncomfortable right now. 

“Jake..”

Your voice is barely audible, yet your dejection is loud and clear to him. 

Jake feels like the ceiling above him had fallen straight onto his chest. 

He attempts to open his mouth to speak, but quickly shuts his parted lips once he feels a cry creep up his throat.

Jake is overwhelmed, you can tell. 

He feels you reach for his hand and he has to hold back the tears brimming beneath his heavy lids. Even when he’s given you a bit of a cold shoulder, you still comfort him. 

You sweetly attempt to coax him to speak again, flatly pressing your palm against his very own–admiring the way his thick fingers compare to yours.

“I can’t hear what you’re thinking Jake..” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear. 

He lets out a shaky breath, your attention shifts from his hands back to his side profile again. 

Your heart tenders, feeling him lace his fingers through yours. 

“Thinkin about you.” he whispers back, opening his eyes, staring at the white pebbled ceiling as if it’ll help him string together his next sentence.

He strokes his thumb against the side of your finger that wraps around his own, trying to carefully pick through his stream of thoughts. 

“Did I do something wrong Jake?” you’re trying to remain calm but he hears your voice crack at the question.

He hates himself for making you feel like this because he can’t figure out how to control his feelings for you.

“Do you like Rooster?” 

It’s a childish question, he knows. But he needs to hear your answer, preparing himself for the worst. 

The question hangs in the air for a while before you begin to understand why he’s asking you this. 

“Of course I do,” you begin to answer.

“But never more than you, Jake.” 

He quickly shuts his eyes again, deciding to bite the bullet. 

“I like you more than Rooster too.” he pauses before speaking up again. 

“And to answer that question..the one you asked me last month, I’d still love you as a worm. I think-If Rooster was a worm, I’d feed him to the nearest starving bird. You wouldn’t let me–that I know, but I’ll still try anyway.” he quickly catches his breath before continuing his tangent.

“...But if you were a worm I’d make a little sanctuary for you. And maybe give you a kiss when no one’s looking, because–you’d be a needy worm, but you’re also shy…so you’d obviously hate the PDA. You’d also want a lot of attention and I’d give it to you.” Jake feels himself internally cringe, but the words had already shot out of his mouth like vomit.

To any other person, Jake would seem like he’s rambling nonsense. But it's a good thing you’re not just anyone. You know exactly what he’s trying to say. 

“I think you’re my favorite person too, Jake.” 

You patiently observe him while he takes in what you said. Jake is still not facing you.

There is a familiar ripple of silence that falls over you two. The same one that encases you both before you two come to a silent understanding together. One where you agreed that touching Jake’s face was okay, one where you both decided that holding hands is perfectly normal in your friendship, and one where you two realize how you feel about each other.

“I love you.” he confesses.

You watch as he slowly turns his head to look at you, peeling his eyes open again. Jake’s stare lingers on your face, seeing all the features he could easily sketch from memory. 

“I love you too, Jake.”

You blink back at him, mouth twitching from the way his eyes linger down to your lips.

Jake seizes the moment, hand slowly unraveling from your smaller ones. You suddenly feel his hand graze at the side of your neck, his pointer finger sits right on your pulse point, which hammers loudly against his fingertip–and all you can do is watch as he turns his body to fully face you.

He encourages you to meet him in the middle as he softly tugs you forward with the free hand that unknowingly wrapped itself around your wrist–pulling you into him. 

You close your eyes, feeling him eagerly slotting his lips against your own soft ones. In the dimly lit room, your hands begin to travel to the back of Jake’s neck, softly tugging at the hair that sits there. 

He hums, feeling you crawl onto his lap, you turn your head to move against his lips at a new angle–desperate to get him closer to you in any way. 

His shaky hands move down, finding purchase on your hips, and you’re fully consumed by him–senses flaring out of control from his touch. 

He feels you shyly swipe your tongue against his bottom lip, and immediately parts his mouth to let you in. 

Jake feels his brain shortcuting at the sensation of your tongue swirling against his own. It begins to get hard to breathe but you can’t bring yourself to care–too enamored by the way Jake feels against you.

He pulls back, face completely flushed but watches through half lidded eyes as you chase after his lips immediately after he pulls away from you. He can’t deny you, equally eager to feel you again. 

You meet him in another kiss, he kisses you back so tenderly–and you feel yourself completely melt under his grip.

Desperate to show you what you mean to him, he pulls away from you once more–a small smile tugs at his lips when he hears you whine from the loss of him. He immediately latches his swollen lips onto your neck, playfully biting at the hot skin there–and soothing it over with his tongue.

All you could do is tightly grip your hands onto his blonde roots–Jake feels the room spin once your fingers scratch at his scalp.

You look up, vision blurring in your euphoric daze as he presses one last kiss to the midline of your neck. His warm breath hits your skin, leaving goosebumps to appear before he fully pulls away

His pupils are completely shot as you lower your head to look at him. Jake’s eyes graze over the skin on your neck, staring at you as if you were his favorite mural. He doesn’t realize that his hands fell down to your thighs, Jake blinks at the sight of your legs–latched over his hips, your dress had already ridden half-way up your thighs in the midst of the kiss and he feels himself swallow. 

Jake feels his self restraint run thin but he puts you at the forefront of his mind again. He leans forward, eyes shut–sighing as he lets his face fall flat against your shoulder.

“Jake..let’s..stay home.” you begin, voice hoarse from the kiss.

Jake pulls himself together, meeting your tempting gaze. 

“Let’s just rest for tonight, Angel” he offers instead. 

Jake stands, after swiftly moving you off his lap, afraid he’d fold if you were to insist one more time. 

You let yourself recover before reaching for his hand again, “Can we try my new face masks before bed?” 

“Of course.” He smiles down at you, allowing all plans to go to the Hard Deck tonight to completely fly out the window. 

Jake woke up before you, the sun had streamed through his blinds–shining right onto his eyes. 

A few seconds after he wakes, he feels you stir beside him–your arm blindly pawing around the bed to find him.

He grins, pulling you to lay on top of his chest once he has a firm grip on your forearm. 

Jake moves his hand up and down your back, trying to wheedle you back into slumber but it doesn’t work.

He tucks his chin to watch you pull your head out of the crook of his neck. You lean in to peck his lips and he happily kisses you back.

Jake’s brow furrows as you shoot him a disturbed look.

“What?” he curiously laughs.

“Your lips are so dry.” you answer flatly.

“Wha-” he immediately shuts his mouth as you fished out one of your random lip balms from his bedside–carefully gliding the balm over his lips in the dark.

You press and rub your lips together, encouraging Jake to copy your actions.

You smile as he does, until he immediately starts hammering your face in short pecks–kissing you all over the expanse of your face.

Jake feels his heart hammering in his chest as you giggle from his actions. 

Before he gets the chance to pepper more kisses down your neckline you both hear his front door click open.

“Hello? Jake?”

You both still, pulling back from each other to closely listen to the stranger stepping into his living room.

“Listen Man, I’m Sorry! I can’t take it anymore. Okay?” 

You both hear heavy footsteps stream down from his living room to his kitchen.

“You both didn’t show up last night. And I was miserable! The team kept joking that both of my best friends hate me!” Javy yells from the kitchen.

“Please tell me it’s not true.” he pleads.

“Javy, man is that you?” Jake hollers from the bedroom. 

“I brought coffee...it’s not that great but-”

Javy pauses as he watches you both step out from Jake’s bedroom, it’s obvious that he was disrupting something.

Javy focuses his sight on you, doubling over–holding his stomach as he laughs at your appearance.

Jake gets offended, turning around to figure out why he’s laughing at you.

You meet Jake’s eyes and watch as the color drains from his already pale skin.

“What?” you gawk.

You can’t be that horrible looking in the morning right?

You watch as Jake’s fingers reach to touch his lips and realization hits you–You had mistakenly reached for one of your new lipsticks. 

Jake’s lips are smeared in bright red lipstick, the color smudging down to his chin. 

Javy quickly recovers and calls both your names, snapping a picture once you both turn to look at him with horror stricken looks on your faces. 

“Contact me when you need this picture for your wedding.” he announces, grinning down at his recently captured image. 

“Okay.” Jake shrugs, giving in.

“Jacob.” He feels a chill run down his spine.

Javy watches as Jake suddenly stalks over to where he stands.

“Hey! Stop! Get your hands off me!”

You can’t fight the smile that makes its way to your face. Jake and Javy are both grinning as they wrestle on the floor for Javy’s phone–both of them unforgiving as they childishly slap each other's faces in bursts. You know for sure now, that moving here was the best decision you had ever made. 

thank you for reading, and as always-reblogs are greatly appreciated!

join my taglist here or follow me on @waklman-library & turn on notifs there to be notified when i post!

not my gif! if anyone knows the creator please let me know!!

[hannahbarberra162]

Can't Fix Fix A Broken Heart, Chapter 25

18+ MDNI

On Ao3

All other chapters

Tate has devised a plan to get a Girls Trip™ for the two of you, you just need to execute it to perfection.

I definitely don’t dream about having Ace snuggling me when I’m on my period. Like a living weighted blanket who would say sweet things into my ear. That is definitely not a wish of mine and complete self-indulgence.

~

This is the set up for the divergent endings. The good ending will be first, the bad ending will be last.

The next morning, you knocked on the door to the women’s quarters, holding your sketches under your arm. You knew you didn’t need to knock, it had been your living space too at some point. But it didn’t feel right to barge in unannounced. A very hungover looking Heidi cracked open the door and smiled weakly at you.

“What’s up?” she rasped at you. Evidently, more nurses than just Tate had a wild night. 

“Is Tate up? I was hoping to get a few minutes with her before work.” You had all your ideas with you, you were ready to show her some and see which ones she liked.

“Yeah, gimme a sec,” Heidi replied, opening the door all the way. “Tate!” she yelled. There was a chorus of ‘shhhhh’ that rang out among the darkened room. Tate shuffled up to the door, looking worse for the wear. You smirked at her.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked with a bright smile. She glared at you, but without malice. “C’mon, I’ll make you my hangover cure. Chug it and we’ll chat after that.” Tate blinked slowly, but shuffled out the door and put her arm in yours. The two of you walked silently down the halls together, ending in the kitchen. Just like with Ace, you sat her down while you made your drink of lemon, honey, vinegar, chili peppers, seltzer, and a little dash of secret ingredient. Tate emphatically frowned when you handed it to her, but shrugged. 

“Can’t be worse than whatever I drank last night,” she lamented. “Bottoms up,” she said, chugging the drink. You handed her the water right after, which she sipped. “So, I remember some of what we talked about last night. Did you say that you finished the sketches?” 

You grinned at her, putting the drawings in front of her. “I did, we can go over them together and see what you like and what we need to change.” You spread them out, showing her your ideas. “Basically, these are mix and match pieces in a few colors. You can pair any of the tops with any of the bottoms for a good outfit. I even included skirts of various lengths in case you…miss…the mini skirts,” you finished with a wink. “I thought darker fabrics would be better in the case of bodily fluids. Teal and periwinkle tend to be universally flattering, no matter your skin tone, but black or gray are also good choices. In terms of fabric, cotton would be a good choice but we’ll have to go to a fabric store and find some samples…” You went on about dye lots, fabric blends, and clothing cuts, explaining everything in detail to Tate. She nodded along, looking through the sketches. 

“So, what do you think? What can we change to suit your needs better?” you asked the now revived nurse. 

“Absolutely nothing. These are incredible! I love the long pants, it’s so annoying to wash other people’s blood off the tops of your thighs.” She was looking over the drafts intensely, making notes with a pencil she had. “I have nothing to add other than you’re a genius. Let’s get off the boat at the next large island and get some samples. Make a whole day of it,” she said, putting her hand over yours and smiling kindly. You smiled back, but were unsure. You had a feeling it would take a lot of convincing for Marco to let you off the ship. “I’ll work on Marco,” Tate said as if reading your mind, “I have a plan.”

You felt lighter after your brief meeting with Tate. She had to go back to the infirmary for work and you had to go to breakfast. While you ate, Thatch was pretending to be upset with you because he found out that Ace had joined you and Marco for the night. You could tell he wasn’t actually upset but you still felt like you had to walk on eggshells.

“But we did that too, remember?” you reminded Thatch. “Ace came in once when you were brushing my hair for me?” You were seated on Thatch’s lap, like always, eating whatever he was serving you. And, like always, it was delicious. 

“ Mija, of course I remember, Ace snores like a train and burns hotter than the sun when he’s dreaming of you,” Thatch scoffed. He speared another forkful of eggs and brought it to your mouth. You opened without thinking and chewed the gooey, cheesy dish. “Look mami , you ate it all, I’m so proud of you!” Thatch kissed the top of your head. Recently you noticed you gained some weight, your clothes were fitting differently. You felt physically well, better than you had in a long time. You couldn’t say the same for your emotional well being, but at least some part of you was healing. 

“Thanks to you,” you said, giving Thatch a kiss on the cheek. He really was a good chef, and you were in a good mood from your conversation with Tate that morning. 

“Someone’s feeling well,” Thatch commented. You hummed, you didn’t want to reveal your plans with Tate yet. It would take a lot of convincing but you thought she figured out a way to get off the ship together for a day. Thatch kissed you again, this time on your mouth, and set you down. You went off to work, feeling energized and ready to take on the day. 

Until later that morning. 

You felt a long gone but familiar sensation of cramping in your lower stomach. One of the only upsides to being starved half to death was that you lost your period for a long time. Obviously, it was a sign of incredibly poor health, but you liked to look on the bright side of things. You always had terrible cramps when you had your period, and it looked like this time would be no exception. You put your hand on your lower stomach, you needed to talk to the nurses quickly. You apologized to Blenheim, promising to fix his scabbard later in the day. You scurried off to the infirmary, hoping to avoid Marco.

Logically, you knew Marco was a doctor and had studied the female reproductive system. But you still felt much more comfortable talking to other women about menstruation than men. You slunk into the clinic, quickly ducking into one of the unoccupied examination rooms. Peeking through the cracked door, you waited until you saw a lurid pink miniskirt pass by the door. You darted out, scaring Bethany, who dropped her clipboard.

“You can’t just pop out at people like that!” she scolded you. 

“Sorry,” you replied sheepishly. “I need pads and tampons, can I use the ones in the women’s bathroom here?” you whispered. There weren’t many women’s restrooms on the ship, you only knew of the ones in the infirmary and connected to the women’s quarters.

“Sure, they’re communal. You don’t need to ask,” Bethany replied at full volume. You hoped Marco wasn’t listening in.

“Thanks, see you later.” You sped off to the women’s bathroom in the infirmary, grabbing what you needed. You were still wearing a stupid dress, but you swiped some underwear from the clean patient laundry. They were too big, but it was better than nothing. If Marco was mad, well, he could solve the problem himself. Leaving the bathroom, you jumped as you saw the very man you were trying to avoid leaning against the opposing wall. Served you right for surprising Bethany, you supposed.

“Everything alright?” Marco asked, assessing you with his eyes. He was in doctor mode, which made you feel more comfortable. You knew what to expect when he was like this, he was professional, detached, and had good bedside manner.

“Oh, um, yeah. I just got um, my…period.” Marco smiled kindly at you.

“Congratulations yoi. It’s a sign of recovery. However, the first menstruation after extensive amenorrhea is often quite painful. I recommend you go lay down, rest and relax.” Even though it was phrased as a clinical recommendation, you knew it was an order. 

“Ok Marco. Where should I go? I don’t want to ruin any-” Marco waved off your concerns.

“We’re all adults here, no one is upset by the human body. Ace cleaned his room, would you like to go there?” You tried to hide your disgust when you thought about Ace’s room and the last time you’d seen it. Marco laughed.

“I understand your hesitation yoi, but I checked it myself. It’s clean and always the perfect temperature. Go there. I’ll give you some medicine to take with you.” Marco left to rummage in a nearby cart, grabbing a bottle of low grade pain killers. “Take two, and drink some water. I’ll have Ace check on you in an hour or two.” Marco kissed you on your head, turned you around by your shoulders and sent you off with a little push. You didn’t feel that bad, you’d been having your period for many years. Going to lay down preemptively was overkill, you thought, but you weren’t going to disagree with Marco.

An hour later and you were glad Marco had sent you to lay down. You remembered having cramps, of course, but nothing like this. You were curled up on Ace’s freshly made bed, writhing in pain. After the first wave of cramps, you’d taken the pain killers, but they weren’t getting close to helping with the pain. Marco had stopped by briefly, bringing you tea, a hot water bottle, and tucking you under the covers. You asked him to heal you but he said there wasn’t anything wrong with you, that it was excess uterine lining being shed normally. There was nothing to heal, so his flames wouldn’t do anything. He had a busy day and couldn’t stay long but promised to send Ace up. 

In between pains so intense you thought your stomach was being sliced in half, you took a look around Ace’s room. It was so much better than the first time you’d been in the room. He had cleaned out all the food, all the old papers, and done his laundry. Marco was right, it was warm and cozy. You weren’t sure if it was the room itself or if it was somehow the residual effects of his Mera Mera, but you didn’t care. You tried closing your eyes and falling asleep but the closest you could get was dozing in and out of consciousness. 

Creaking, the door opened, and you heard Ace ending a conversation. You kept your back turned to the door and pretended to be asleep in case he could see you.

“ - don’t think she likes it, not like I do…” Ace sounded doubtful about whatever it was. 

“Remember how you were when you joined yoi? All anger and fury? And now look at us,” you could tell he was speaking with Marco. “Give it some time, it will be everything you ever wanted. Family and love, happiness and a place where you belong, all here with us. Here, give her these,” Ace hummed, and it sounded like they kissed. Footsteps told you Marco left, and Ace opened the door, holding a few bottles of pills. He spotted you on his bed and kicked off his shoes, putting the bottles on his desk. You really wanted to ask him about what they were talking about but didn’t have the courage to admit you were listening in to their private conversation. 

“Poor baby,” he said, as you heard him taking off his pants and knife.

“S’ok,” you replied, stretching a little. Ace got into the bed with you, crawling behind you. You whined, you didn’t want to be manhandled right now. You saw Marco had given Ace a bottle of vitamins and another of anti-nausea medication for you. You'd take them later, you couldn't move right now.

“Shhhh. S’gonna be alright.” Ace curled up behind you, spooning you. He moved your hands away from your lower stomach and replaced them with his own. You felt the gentle warmth of his Mera Mera heating you. You mewled and scooted backwards, snuggling into him. Ace buried his face in your neck and held you closer. He let you relax and drift to sleep, holding you tightly in his arms. 

It was a challenging few days for you. Your period was lighter than it normally was, but extremely painful. You didn’t leave Ace’s room much, spending your time reading and thinking about your reply letter to Vista’s brothers. Thatch, Ace, and Marco all visited as they could, with Ace staying with you at night. They were actually…sweet. You wished they were always this way, then you’d have no doubts about staying on the ship with them. Thatch brought you desserts and savory food in equal measure and gave you massages when your muscles were tight. He didn’t make you sit on his lap but let you eat by yourself in Ace’s bed. He tried to hand feed you, but sulkily accepted when you declined. Marco brought you medicine, tea, pads, and more books from his collection. He made sure you were physically comfortable, bringing loose pants, extra blankets and pillows. Ace, of course, warmed you up and snuggled with you until you thought you would merge together on an atomic level. You were thankful he let you hole up in his room.

“Sorry, I know it can’t be easy having me in here all the time,” you said to Ace on the third day. You were laying in bed together, limbs entangled, facing each other. Ace was still dozing after the night you’d spent in each other’s arms. You were brushing his freckles lightly with your fingertips. You were feeling better, you’d be out of his room by the afternoon, you thought.

“S’great. Wish’is all the time,” Ace mumbled. “Would lock you in here’f I could,” he continued, putting his chin on the top of your head. You sighed because you knew that when you got up, you would be back to your previous life of rules and punishments from the three Commanders. You nuzzled deeper into Ace’s arms, keeping the real world at bay for just a few hours longer.

~~~

A few days later, you needed to find Ace once more. You and Tate thought you had figured out a way to finagle a girl’s day out of the Commanders. The two of you wanted to stop at the next big island, coming up in about a week. It was close to the calm belt, but you’d actually been to the island years prior. It was known for its large textile factory and incredible fabric inventory. You’d done a few fashion shows there, maybe you could use some of your previous fame to get a discount on fabrics, or at least try to. It also had a day spa that was known for its wet saunas and hot tubs. You really wanted to go with Tate and enjoy a relaxing girls trip. Tate’s plan would require you to be crafty and a little conniving, but it would be worth it if it worked out. 

Ace was going to go on a mission later that morning, you needed to find him quickly. He was still inhaling food in the mess hall after you’d eaten breakfast. You waited for him outside the mess hall, wanting to speak to him in private. When he left, you grabbed him by the arm and pulled him aside. You looked up at him with hope in your eyes.

“Ace, can I get off the ship with Tate at the next island? They have a fabric store I want to go to. Please?” You weren’t sure this would work, but you really wanted to go to the fabric store in person. 

“Ah, I don’t think so. You’ll have to ask -” you stopped Ace from talking by pulling him down by his hat string to kiss him. You kissed him deeply, holding him at the back of his neck. All that time you’d spent with him in bed had you feeling connected to him, and you hoped the reverse was true as well.

“Please?” you asked again in a pleading tone. Ace smiled at you, disarmed by the forward display of affection.

“I know you’re trying to manipulate me, but I have to say, it’s working. OK, as long as someone’s with you. Ask Thatch or Marco, though, just to be sure. I’ll be gone by the time the Moby’s docking at the next island, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” 

“Thank you Ace! Thank you, thank you” you kissed his cheeks every time you thanked him, making Ace smile even wider.

“You should ask me for favors more often, I like the way this is going.” Ace husked. He pulled you against him, you could feel his growing erection through his shorts. You rubbed up against him a little bit, teasing him.

“Let’s finish this in a bit, I need to go eat breakfast and Thatch doesn’t like when I’m late,” you replied. One last kiss to Ace and you were on your way. The first part of your plan had been a success.

Next, you waited until it was lunchtime. You were extra good for Thatch, complimenting his cooking and allowing him to feed you without complaint. You finished about two thirds of your food before you started talking to him about the island.

“Thatch, I have a favor I want to ask you,” you began, eyes wide.

“If I can grant it, I will mami. What do you need?” Thatch rubbed your palm with his thumb.

“Can I get off the ship with Tate at the next island? There’s a fabric store I want to go to for the new nurses’ uniforms.” You looked at Thatch hopefully.

“Ah. No, I don’t think so. I don’t want -”

“But Ace already said yes, I was so excited,” you said while making yourself cry. Tears fell down your face and you twisted the knife in Thatch’s heart. “I t-told Tate we could g-go, and I was going to invite y-you -” Thatch frowned and rubbed away the tears from your cheeks.

“ Querida, if it’s that important to you, I’ll talk to Marco. We can try to make it work. I’m not sure it will happen, but we’ll try.” You smiled, stopping the tears.

“Thank you Thatch! Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Just like with Ace, you kissed him with every thank you. 

“ Mija it’s not a guarantee, you understand that, right? I don’t want you to be upset if it doesn’t work out in the end,” Thatch said, still stroking your cheek. You gave him a genuine smile - you knew he would try his hardest to let you off the ship. He would go and talk to Marco on your behalf and try to convince the Phoenix into letting you off the ship. Marco would be the toughest of the three, but you thought between you, Thatch, and Tate it would be possible to convince him. You exchanged a few more kisses, thanking him, until he had to leave to prepare lunch for the crew. Part two of Tate’s plan had worked. 

Marco found you in the afternoon as you were on the deck leaning against the main mast, relaxing. You were still taking it easy but the little work you’d been doing had tired you out. How did the crew break so many toilets?

“So I hear you want to have an excursion on the next island,” Marco began, standing over you. He seemed to be in a good mood, or at least hadn’t outright denied you. His half open eyes showed some amusement, which was a good start.

“There’s a textile store that I want to go to with Tate. To get samples for the nurses’s uniforms. I haven’t been off the ship yet.” You tried to keep yourself from rambling but it was always hard for you to keep your cool around Marco.

Marco hummed. “And it has nothing to do with the spa on the island yoi?” You looked up at Marco with wide eyes. He still seemed amused, he wasn’t mad with you yet. He squished your cheeks gently between his thumb and index finger, the corners of his lips quirked up into a cold smile.

“Tate asked me about the store and the spa. And Thatch also came to talk to me about it. You’ve been working everyone to get off the ship yoi.” You swallowed dryly, you felt caught. “You’ve been a good Doveling lately yoi. Had a hard time this week. I’ll allow it with the understanding that one of us will be with you at all times.” He squished your face with a little more force. “We wouldn’t want you to get lost or hurt. We’re always looking out for you, you know that, don’t you Doveling?” 

You nodded. “Yes, Marco. Thank you Marco.” you replied. Even though Marco had said he allowed it, you felt the lingering threat behind his words. He’d be watching your every move and if anything went wrong on this trip, you didn’t think you’d ever be let off the ship again. 

“You can show your appreciation to me later tonight yoi,” Marco said, moving his hand from your face to your hair, pulling it gently. You were forced to tip your face up even higher. “It’s quite lenient of me, don’t you think?” 

“Yes, Marco. Thank you, Marco.” You shivered thinking about what Marco would want in exchange for allowing you off the ship for a day. He kissed your mouth briefly and released his hand from your hair. 

“Stay here and relax a little longer. You look like you need it yoi.” You agreed. It felt like you’d have to pay for your time off the ship with a pound of flesh. And you knew they would be collecting.