#chat's fics

[chatxkilluaxnoir]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Gravity Falls Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines & Dipper and Mabel Pines' Parents, Dipper Pines & Dipper and Mabel Pines' Parents, Jesus "Soos" Alzamirano Ramirez & Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, Jesus "Soos" Alzamirano Ramirez & Mabel Pines, Jesus "Soos" Alzamirano Ramirez & Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines, Alcor the Dreambender & Mizar the Gleeful, Dipper Pines & Original Character(s), Alcor the Dreambender & Original Character(s) Characters: Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines, Dipper & Mabel Pines' Parents, Stan Pines, Jesus "Soos" Alzamirano Ramirez, Belle Sterling, Lionel Sterling, Noie, Naomi "Noie" Argenta, Alcor the Dreambender, Mizar the Gleeful Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Transcendence (Gravity Falls), Character Study, Introspection, Character Analysis, Dark Thoughts, Family Feels, Familial Issues, Family Issues, The Mindscape, The Mindscape (Gravity Falls), Dipper Pines Needs A Hug, Demon Dipper Pines, dipper is between a darker phase and a lighter phase, leaning more towards dark, Protective Dipper Pines, Dark Dipper Pines, Dipper Pines is a Mess, I wrote this fic because I love dipper, and wanted to analyze him some, Also while I want him to be happy, I do also love angst and to see my faves suffer some too, like dipper, And Thus This Fic Was Born, Oh I almost forgot to tag this, Angst Summary:

Dipper has some time alone in the Mindscape.

And his mind then wanders.

He does not enjoy it.

[lapdogchase]

[gutsby]

Stiff

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: At fifty-nine, Joel isn’t sure his dick can keep up with every day it’s going to take to get you pregnant. He seeks help from Jackson’s local apothecary and gets more than bargained for when that little blue pill kicks in.

Or, your old man wants to knock you up. Viagra helps.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v (obviously 😵‍💫🤙🏼). Breeding kink. Age gap. Peepaw Joel. Blue Pill Joel. Post-apocalyptic-Viagra-dosage-gone-horribly-wrong-and-now-his-dick-won’t-deflate-for-a-day…but it’s OK!

Note: This is the crackfic counterpart/sequel to ‘Make It Stick’

Word count: 2.9k

Forty-five minutes.

Forty-five minutes until his fate was sealed for the night. His pulse would quicken. His head would start to swim, and any last sliver of rational thought would be lost to the ether or the cold, snowy air around him. Joel Miller had to hurry now, because that bite-sized blue pill he’d just taken was in his belly, and if his dick didn’t find its way in you, he was fucked. Or at least huge and swollen and leaking out beads of hot desire the size of golf balls.

Well, maybe that was just his cock.

Joel looked down, scanning his pants.

Yeah…definitely just cock. He walked faster.

At home, he knew he’d find you curled up on the couch, nose in a book. What to Expect When You’re Expecting, if he had to guess. Then, sure enough, you’d lift your eyes and smile—‘Thank goodness you’re back, daddy’—and lift the hem of your night dress just slightly. Spread your legs and beckon him in. It was a nightly routine by now.

You wanted to be knocked up as fast as possible, after all

At almost sixty years old, Joel couldn’t believe he was actually saying these words aloud. But here he was—crawling overtop you on the couch, situating himself between your legs, and pulling his cock out, mumbling:

“Gonna let me put a baby in you tonight?”

You nodded sweetly—eagerly—every time.

Joel knew he could never resist that look. He was as good as finished the first second you let him sink inside your tight, weeping hole, and when he stretched it, he could already tell this was all he would ever want to do. Make you happy, fill you up, give you lots and lots of him.

It was why he’d stopped by the apothecary tonight. Why he’d hesitated only a moment before clearing his throat and asking for a pill like Viagra—Joel knew that the man behind the counter would flash him a wry, knowing grin.

Trouble keepin’ up with that sweet young thing’a yours?

David was a dick.

He wasn’t entirely wrong, either.

Ever since agreeing to start trying for a baby, Joel had become acutely aware of his own physical limitations in that department, and one of them was stamina. He could scarcely fuck twice in the same night without needing a long and rest-intensive breather. You were young and could roll over ready to go in five minutes.

It wasn’t fair to deprive you now on account of his age.

If you wanted his cum, you were getting it, no question.

Not just once, but multiple times. Again and again and—

“Again,” Joel grunted once he’d shot off his last spurt.

Fifty-eight minutes had passed since he’d taken that pill. It had fully kicked in, and his dick was still hard, even after finishing inside you with a sticky, white-hot flood.

You blinked dreamily up at him.

“You mean it, old man?” you teased him lightly.

I’ll show you what I mean, Joel thought to himself before flipping you over on the sofa. He had your hips tilted up and his cock driving back inside your freshly-fucked cunt in no time at all. He felt his spend coating your walls; it let him glide right in. Joel groaned and jerked himself back out, then fucked back in again and again and again.

“Again?”

Your word was exhaled in a laugh.

You stood in front of the bathroom sink, trying to tidy up the insides of your legs and push some more of Joel’s load back in, when you felt a presence at your back.

Stabbing your ass.

You started to turn then, puzzled.

“Bend over,” Joel commanded before you could.

You did as you were told because, frankly, you loved getting fucked wherever your old man wanted it—even if he had broken the sink one time he’d pounded you here.

But there was palpable confusion, too. How in the hell had Joel Miller, certified silver fox and owner of a dick old enough to remember Woodstock and the moon landing, managed to get his dick hard in the five minutes since he’d had you face-down, ass-up on the couch?

Or had his dick gotten soft at all?

You wanted to question him about it, or else give a long, hard look at his uncharacteristically long, hard friend, when the next moment had you gripping the counter. Stretching between the legs as Joel pushed back in.

“There she is,” he murmured affectionately.

Really, you’d never been wetter. Or warmer. Or filled to the brim with more sticky-white spend than you could ever hope to hold inside, it felt like. You bent at the waist and let him have his fill. You closed your eyes and rested your head on your forearms while Joel’s hot, bulbous tip grazed your cervix with dizzying alacrity. A smile crept in.

Whatever this was, you wanted more of it.

His dick was still hard.

Four mind-numbing fucks and another forty-five minutes later, Joel’s cock hadn’t deflated the tiniest bit.

The thing had hammered you so thoroughly he’d nearly destroyed the sink again. You’d whimpered, and whined, and warned him quietly, ‘We just fixed the porcelain, baby,’ and right before he’d painted your walls with his seed, you’d cum for him practically shrieking. Shaking.

Letting him turn you around for a kiss, only to mumble against his mouth with a sleepy, cockdrunk sort of lilt:

“I think you gave me twins.”

Then he’d fucked you in the shower to make it triplets.

Now you were laying out on the bed, truly spent, eyes following him in the semi-darkness of your bedroom after you’d toweled off and collapsed among the pillows.

“What’s gotten into you tonight, Miller?” you breathed.

Joel made it over to the dresser, back turned to you. He rifled through a drawer looking for something extra tight.

“Just missed you is all,” he said, shrugging.

What he needed right now was fabric that was very thick to hide the boner he was sporting. Joel could tell from the way you spoke that you were too tired for round five, and he didn’t want you feeling like you had to go again.

He would be fine.

His dick might not deflate until dawn, but that was okay.

“Wish you missed me like this every day,” you giggled.

When Joel turned around, he was shocked to find you sprawled out on the bed—hands between your legs.

There was a shy smile on your face.

“Baby…” he trailed off, watching your fingers flit through that sticky mess where he’d left it. Where you glistened.

Where you slid your index and middle fingers up and down your slit and drew circles on your clit, eyes shining.

“What? I missed you too,” you said, tone all faux protest.

You had no idea what you did to him when you talked like that. Especially when he was drowning in a state like this.

Hard as a rock.

Throbbing.

Needy.

Scarcely even knowing what he was doing, Joel found himself over by the foot of the bed in a second. Watching your every move with a wild, wipe-open stare he still couldn’t believe you found appealing. He swallowed.

He not only looked perverted, but he felt it, too. It rarely ever left his mind, save for the four or five seconds he spent in ecstasy emptying the contents of his balls inside your cunt, that he was his age, and you were yours. That perhaps the rest of Jackson was right, and he was wrong: he had no business being around a girl like you, much less getting off inside you every night. Was this really what you wanted? A bewildering mixture of guilt, lust, and love all circulated through his skull at that moment, and the longer he spent looking at your fingers, ogling the way you teased them through his cum between your legs, the more he felt certain he was bad.

No one corrupted a thing this sweet and got to call themselves good, anyway, he thought to himself idly.

“I keep gettin’ that…feelin’,” you said under your breath.

Joel’s hand tightened in a fist, and it was then that he realized it was wrapped around his cock. Still watching.

“Yeah, baby? What feelin’?” he returned, almost as quiet.

Still stroking himself up and down, up and down, softly.

You had your legs spread open—knees splayed wider than they’d been before. And your eyes had a tender, placid sheen to them, like they just might cry if they didn’t get release of some kind soon. Then you slowed.

Your touch slipped from your clit to the opaque, sticky globs between your thighs, and that look got even softer.

More desperate.

“Can’t…explain it.” You shook your head, as if pained, and then you sank two fingers inside. Joel could hear the tiny schlick from where he stood, and it almost did him in.

You sucked in a breath and added, “It’s a special feelin’.”

Joel’s fist had already worked its way up to a ridiculous speed. Again, he sensed this might be the worst and most pathetic he’d ever looked, but by the glint in your eyes and the way you kept holding him there, he also knew you weren’t asking him to stop, either. You were needing something else—something he could provide.

Thanks to that one stupid pill.

Joel’s smile was strained as he gripped the edge of the bed, like he was trying to assuage you and him at once.

“Try me, baby. Tell me ‘bout that special feelin’.”

Your middle and ring fingers disappeared inside you.

You whined, “Ain’t fair to say it now. You’re tired, daddy.”

Like hell he was. Joel crawled over the footboard and made his way straight to you, where your body was limp.

His breaths were coming in so fast and his pulse was thrumming so hard that he almost couldn’t hear himself talking. But he ventured to speak as gently as he could.

“I’m wide awake, sweet pea. I’m all ears. Talk to me.”

And if his words didn’t communicate as much, surely the look in his eyes would’ve told you all the rest. Quietly, he slipped his torso between your legs, where you’d inserted a third finger and were moving your hips again. You were fingering yourself, breathing shallow and quick.

“It’s a feelin’ like I wanna be…stuffed…a-and full’a you.”

Joel’s whole body could’ve liquified on the spot. His brain, presently, had all the consistency of a plate of scrambled eggs if he’d had to guess. Feeling his cock swell even bigger and his hips sink lower to yours of their own accord, he had only to grit his teeth and nod his head. He felt the tip of him bump your fingers, and the sensation and the expectation nearly drove him insane.

He mumbled quietly, “Then move your hand.”

You did. You winced again. You looked as though you might be ashamed for wanting him to fill you with his spend, and Joel simply wouldn’t allow that any longer.

Without saying another word, he slid back in.

Your cum and his facilitated the slide, and you opened right up for him. You whimpered, while Joel grunted like an animal. He couldn’t help it; it all felt so fucking primal.

How you could ever feel the need to apologize for wanting more of this was more than he could take.

“Every inch of me,” Joel said, rutting deeper, “is yours.”

He withdrew to the tip, and he could feel strings of arousal linking him to you in a sickeningly sweet way.

You could scarcely even nod, just waiting for him again.

When Joel plunged back in, he heard a feral little cry, and he felt your legs wrap around his waist. He went faster. You fisted the pillow behind your head in one hand, while the other laid flat on his chest, like you were checking for a heartbeat. You could probably hear it thudding a million miles per minute right now. Your hips collided in tandem.

“D— Daddy,” you whimpered.

“That’s it, open up for daddy. Good girl. It’s all yours.”

The sounds his thrusts were making were obscene.

“Every inch?” you breathed, “E-Every drop, too?”

“Every fiber of my fucking being, sweet girl.”

That made you smile, at length. Your hand slid from his chest, down his round belly, straight to a groin that was pounding hard and fast against your own. Joel groaned when he felt your touch sweep inside your legs—right in the space where his cum had come trickling out. You slid your fingers through that mess, then whimpered again.

Then you brought your hand up to your mouth.

You wrapped your lips around your cum-soaked fingers like they were the single sweetest thing, and you sucked.

Joel had no say after seeing that: he had to cum again.

It likely stunned you both—you more than him, by the look that crossed your eyes the second you felt him throb and pulse inside your cunt—but then it kept going.

Rather than stop, or slow down in the slightest, Joel found his hips pistoning faster than they had before. The whole bed frame shook, and your body trembled with every thrust, and the noises between your legs grew even louder; the sound of skin slapping skin was only amplified by the addition of Joel’s hot load in the mix.

The man was operating on impulse. You, through sheer awe and an animalistic need to have every crevice filled. You held him and you grit your teeth, and you let him keep using your body, while you used his. You kissed him.

“Go on, then—make me a daddy. Take my cum, baby,” Joel babbled, brainless, “Make your old man a daddy.”

He couldn’t tell if it were the words or the rhythm or the pleasure that had already been blossoming deep in your gut this whole time, but he felt you fall apart. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist than you had all night, and you screamed his name. Begged for more.

“Cum in me, daddy—pleasepleaseplease just cum, ju—”

And there he went. Again. Flooding your insides with his warmth and letting his cock carve a wild, relentless path through your cunt like it was all the man knew how to do. He filled you up. He felt it leaking down his length with every stab of his hips, and frankly, he didn’t care what he looked like now. You were smiling big, drawing him in for more kisses as he panted and grunted and whimpered like he never had before. He kissed back. Slowed down.

Found himself lost in your mouth as your tongue wove delectably through his own and your hands made their way to his wild, greying hair. You tugged, and he moaned.

He fucked his spend deeper without even meaning to.

All instinct again, it seemed he couldn’t get enough.

Suddenly, he felt a new, strange urge bubble up.

“I-I-I took a pill tonight,” he blurted out, “Know how badly you want this baby, and I wanna give you one.”

Or two. Or twenty. He was barely capable of speech, let alone rational cognition, so he just spoke whatever came to his mind then, still snug inside your legs and panting.

“A pill?” you whispered back.

Joel’s gaze locked with yours.

He felt stupid for it all at once.

“Yeah. Yeah, I just— I know I’m gettin’ on in years, and I probably can’t fuck the way I used to. And you deserve someone who can…Maybe a guy your age, but that—”

“—is the single dumbest thing you have ever said to me,” you finished for him, eyes narrowing swiftly in a scowl.

When Joel tried talking again, you cut him off.

“I don’t care what any guy my age is doing, or could do. I want babies with you, and that includes every part, OK?”

Your look softened momentarily, seeing his lips twitch down—you could probably see he wasn’t believing you.

Then you cradled his face in your palms. You smiled. You brushed his nose with yours, and you kissed him again, and with what little strength you likely had left in your body, you dug your heels in his ass and pulled him deeper. Both of you let out soft, low grunts at the effort.

“If you fucked like this at twenty-five, my body wouldn’t have survived anyway,” you whispered in reassurance. Biting back a laugh as Joel smiled, too, “I like things just the way they are. Just like how I hope you like me, too.”

“No—I love you.” Joel shook his head, almost plaintive.

And for the first time that night, he felt himself soften.

Whether it was the pill wearing off or that first thread of vulnerability stretching out between your body and his, he didn’t really care. He kissed the tip of your nose and was about to say something more, when you cut back in.

“I love you more. And since we’re being honest tonight,” you started quietly, nipping at your bottom lip a second, “I might…need you back at the apothecary tomorrow.”

Joel’s face fell.

“Wh— is something wrong, baby?” His voice was tight.

He hated seeing David, but, of course, he’d go back there in a heartbeat if it meant getting you the medication you needed. His stomach was starting to churn, when you reached up to hold his face again. You shook your head.

“No, no, Joel, I’m fine. But I may need prenatal vitamins.”

Now his eyes were going wide. His cheeks heated under your palms, and his cock twitched inside you, reflexively.

“You mean…” he murmured, unable to finish. Swallowing.

Beneath him, he saw you smile and nod.

He nearly choked hearing what followed:

“I meant to tell you earlier, but…my period’s a little late.”

[cosmicaura7]

COME RIGHT ON ME, I MEAN CAMARADERIE

Pairings : pedro pascal (joel miller) x reader

Genre : f/m, smut, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie, use of sex toys, ass play, anal sex, double penetration in one hole

Synopsis : In where Joel loves the sight of his pretty little wife all filled up by him.

Word Count : 5.4k

The bedroom was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the moon filtering through the curtains. The sheets beneath you were warm, tangled around your legs as Joel loomed over you, his broad, solid frame casting shadows against the walls. His hands, rough and calloused, traced slowly over your bare skin, making you shiver in anticipation. "You alright, darlin'?" Joel's voice was thick with lust, his deep brown eyes locked onto yours as he brushed your hair away from your damp forehead.

You swallowed hard, nodding, but your body betrayed you, hips twitching, thighs squeezing together, aching for him. "Y-Yeah." You whispered, voice breathless. "Just… you're so big."

"That so?" Joel huffed a low chuckle, smirking as he traced his thumb over your swollen lips. You whimpered as he teased your entrance, pressing the thick head of his cock against your slick folds but refusing to push in just yet. "You always say that." He murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, his tone dripping with amusement. "Yet you always take me so damn well."

Your nails dug into his shoulders as he pushed forward, stretching you inch by inch. Your back arched off the bed, toes curling at the slow, delicious burn of him filling you up. "Fuck, Joel." You gasped, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure and pressure coiled deep inside your belly.

"Shh, baby." He cooed, pressing kisses along your jaw as he sank deeper. "Let me take care of you." Your breath hitched when he bottomed out, filling you so perfectly it made your mind hazy. Every thick inch of him pulsed inside you, stretching you in a way no one else ever could. "Feel that?" He groaned, rolling his hips just enough to make you whimper. "Feel how tight you are around me?"

You nodded frantically, nails raking down his back, overwhelmed by the way he fit inside you too much, yet not enough. "You feel so good." You moaned, rolling your hips up to meet him.

Joel let out a guttural growl, gripping your waist as he pulled back, only to thrust into you again, deeper this time. Your walls clenched around him, your body desperate to keep him inside, to savor every inch of him. "Greedy little thing." He murmured against your lips. "Obsessed with how I stretch you out, huh?" Your cheeks burned, but you couldn't deny it. You loved how big he was, how full he made you feel how he ruined you for anyone else. And as Joel set a slow, punishing pace, rolling his hips in deep, deliberate strokes, you knew you’d never get enough of him.

-----

The bedroom was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the flickering flames casting golden hues over the sweat-slicked bodies tangled in the sheets. The air was thick with heat, Joel’s deep gravelly moans mixing with your breathless whimpers as he pressed his weight over you, hips flush against yours.

“Goddamn, darlin’.” He groaned, voice thick with desire. “Look at you, fuckin’ made for me.” His large hands gripped your thighs, pushing them open even wider as he sank deeper, filling you completely. Every slow deliberate thrust had you gasping, your body trembling beneath his. He was so thick, so perfect inside you, stretching you open in a way that left your head spinning.

Joel watched with dark, hungry eyes as your lips parted, your hands clutching at the sheets. He could feel the way your walls squeezed him, desperate to keep him buried inside. The thought of pulling out, of not spilling himself deep in your pretty little cunt, was damn near unbearable. “You love it, don’t you?” He rasped, his thumb brushing over your swollen clit, making you jolt. “Love how full I make you?” You could only nod, too lost in pleasure to find the words. But that wasn’t enough for Joel. He leaned down, nipping at your jaw, his breath hot against your ear.

“Say it.”

A shudder wracked through you as he rolled his hips, hitting that perfect spot inside you. Your fingers clutched at his back, nails digging into his skin. “I…I love it.” You gasped. “Love how big you are… love when you fill me up.”

A guttural growl rumbled deep in his chest, his control hanging by a thread. His thrusts grew rougher, more desperate, his need to claim you consuming him whole. “That’s my girl.” He muttered, kissing you hard, his beard scraping against your soft skin. “Gonna give you every fuckin’ drop, baby, make sure you feel me for days.”

The thought sent a wave of heat straight to your core, your body tightening around him as you teetered on the edge. Joel felt the way you clenched down, the way your breath hitched. He wasn’t far behind, the need to pump you full driving him wild. “Come on, darlin’.” He urged, his movements growing frantic. “Milk my cock, baby, take all of it.”

And as pleasure crashed over you, your cries muffled against his lips, Joel groaned deep in his chest, spilling into you with a few final, shuddering thrusts. He stayed there, buried inside, panting against your skin as he pressed soft kisses to your shoulder. “Fuck.” He murmured, rubbing slow, soothing circles against your trembling thigh. “Ain’t never gonna get enough of this, enough of you.” His words sent a lazy, satisfied smile across your lips as you curled against him, already aching for him to claim you all over again.

Joel never had much restraint when it came to you. Not when you looked at him like that, all soft and desperate, like you needed him as much as he needed you. And especially not when you were already spread out beneath him, body trembling and stuffed so full of him that he swore he could see the outline of his cock pressing against your lower belly.

“Shit, baby,” he groaned, voice thick with arousal as his rough hands smoothed over your stomach. “You feel that?”

You could only whimper, your body hypersensitive from how many times he’d already filled you. But he wasn’t done, not even close. He pressed down just the slightest bit, making you cry out as the sensation of being impossibly full sent another wave of pleasure through you.

“You’re takin’ me so good.” Joel muttered, leaning down to nip at your jaw. “So damn tight, baby, fuck, I can feel how much of me is inside you.” His hips moved slow and deliberate, dragging every thick inch along your sensitive walls before pressing deep again, making sure you felt every bit of him. Your fingers gripped his shoulders, nails raking down his back as your body shuddered beneath him.

“I-I can’t…” You gasped, voice weak, body spent from how many times he had already pushed you past your limit.

“Yes, you can.” Joel rasped against your skin, lips brushing over your ear as his hips snapped forward. “Takin’ me so damn well, sweetheart. Let me give you one more, just one more, baby.”

One more.

That was a lie.

Joel didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. Not when your body clenched down around him like you were made to take him, like your body craved to be filled over and over again. His thrusts grew rougher and more frantic, his body tightening with the need to empty himself inside you once more. You could feel how deep he was, how every single drop he had already given you was pooling inside, stretching you out in ways that made your head spin.

Joel’s fingers dug into your hips, holding you steady as he gave you one last brutal thrust, a deep, guttural groan ripping from his chest as he spilled inside you. His breath was ragged, his heart hammering against yours as he collapsed over you, keeping himself buried deep. “Fuck.” He muttered, pressing soft kisses along your throat, his hand splaying over your belly, feeling the slight swell beneath his palm. “Look at you, baby, so damn full of me.”

You could only moan weakly in response, the sensation of his warmth spreading inside you making your body tremble. Joel smirked, rolling his hips just enough to make you jolt. “Think I can give you another?” He murmured against your ear, already hardening again inside you. Your body shivered in anticipation, knowing full well he wasn’t going to stop until he was satisfied. And that wouldn’t be for a long long time.

-----

Joel leaned back on his heels, hands spreading over your thighs as he took in the sight before him. His breath was still heavy, his body still thrumming with the aftershocks of his release, but his eyes, dark and hungry, were fixated on the mess he had made between your trembling legs. “Look at you, baby.” He muttered, his rough thumb tracing slow, lazy circles over your inner thigh. “So fuckin’ pretty all stuffed full of me.”

You whimpered, body still sensitive, thighs twitching as you felt the thick warmth of his spend trickling out of you. It smeared across your inner thighs, glistening in the dim light of the bedroom, pooling on the sheets beneath you. The sight had Joel groaning deep in his chest, his cock twitching at the way your body tried so desperately to hold onto him.

“Fuck.” He breathed, dragging two fingers through the creamy mess leaking from your core. “Did so good takin’ me, sweetheart. But look at this, you’re already losin’ it.”

"J-Joel…" Your breath hitched as he pushed some of it back inside you, his thick fingers curling deep, making you gasp as your overstimulated walls clenched down around him.

He smirked, lips ghosting over the inside of your knee before he pressed a soft kiss there. “Gotta make sure none of it goes to waste, darlin’.” He murmured, his fingers working slow, deliberate thrusts as he watched you squirm. “Worked too damn hard fillin’ you up just for you to spill it all out.”

Your fingers gripped the sheets, body writhing beneath him as the pleasure built again, sharp and consuming. Joel watched you, utterly captivated, his free hand pressing down on the slight swell of your lower belly, making you keen at the pressure. "You feel that?" He rasped, eyes locking onto yours. "All of me still inside, baby. Just sittin’ there, keepin' you so fuckin' full."

You could only moan in response, back arching as the pleasure threatened to consume you all over again. Joel chuckled, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your swollen lips before whispering,

"Think you can take one more, sweetheart?" He already knew the answer. And he had no intention of stopping until he was satisfied.

Joel groaned as he watched more of his seed spill from your fluttering cunt, the creamy mess smearing your already soaked thighs. His fingers had done their best to push it back inside you, but your body just couldn’t seem to hold it all. “Tch.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue. “Can’t have that, sweetheart. Worked too damn hard fillin’ you up.”

You barely had the strength to respond, your body still trembling from how many times he had wrung you out. But when you felt him shift, reaching over to the nightstand, your hazy mind barely had the time to register what he was grabbing until you heard the distinct sound of a cap clicking open. Your breath hitched as you turned your head, eyes widening when you saw the toy in his hand. The dildo, one you had teased him about before, claiming it was a “backup” for when he wasn’t around. Joel had scoffed at the idea, muttering something about you not needing anything else when you had him.

But now? Now, he was dragging the head of it through your slick folds, gathering the mix of both your arousals as he smirked down at you.

“J-Joel…”

“Shhh, baby.” His voice was soft, but firm. “Need somethin’ to keep all that inside, don’t we?”

You whimpered as he nudged the toy against your overstimulated entrance, teasing you, pushing just the tip in before pulling it back out, watching the way your pussy clenched desperately around nothing. “So fuckin’ greedy.” He murmured, shaking his head. “Took my cock so well but look at you, still needy, still desperate to be stuffed full.” Your face burned, but the heat of embarrassment was quickly drowned out by pure pleasure as he finally pressed the toy in, inch by agonizing inch, until it was nestled deep inside you.

“Fuck, baby.” He groaned, watching the way you shuddered beneath him. He pressed a palm against your lower belly again, feeling the pressure of the toy deep inside you. “So tight, so full. Bet you can feel it all the way up here, huh?” You whimpered, nodding weakly.

Joel smirked, his fingers trailing down to press lightly against the base of the dildo. “There. Now you won’t waste a single drop.” He leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, lazy kiss. “Go on, sweetheart.” He murmured against your lips. “Get some rest. You’re gonna need it.”

Because he wasn’t done with you yet.

You barely had time to recover from the fullness between your legs before Joel’s large hands put you on your hands and knees and spread you open again, his thumbs kneading into your ass as he groaned at the sight before him. The dildo still sat snug inside your soaked pussy, keeping every drop of his cum deep inside you. But Joel? He wasn’t satisfied, not yet.

“Look at you.” He murmured, voice thick with arousal as his fingers ghosted over the curve of your ass. “So goddamn pretty, stuffed full like this. But you can take more, can’t you, sweetheart?”

Your breath hitched as his hand drifted lower, calloused fingers teasing over the tight ring of muscle. “J-Joel…” You whined, barely able to form words as you shifted under him, overwhelmed by everything and by him.

He chuckled, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your lower back, his scruff scraping against your overheated skin. “Shh, baby. You trust me, don’t you?” You nodded weakly.

“That’s my good girl.”

You shivered as you heard the click of a bottle cap, followed by the cool drizzle of lube against your sensitive skin. Joel took his time, rubbing slow, teasing circles around your tight hole, letting you relax under his touch. “Gotta loosen you up first.” He murmured, pressing a single finger inside, groaning at the way you clenched around him. “Shit, baby, so tight.” Your body trembled as he worked you open, adding another finger, then another, stretching you until the slight burn melted into pure pleasure.

“That’s it…” He praised, his free hand stroking over the small of your back. “Doin’ so good for me.” You whimpered as he pulled his fingers away, only to replace them with the tip of his cock, nudging against your stretched entrance.

“Joel, please…”

“Shh, baby.” He soothed, pressing a gentle kiss against your spine as he pushed in, inch by slow, agonizing inch. “Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so goddamn tight.” You gasped as he bottomed out, completely filling you in a way that had your toes curling. The fullness and the overwhelming stretch, had your eyes rolling back as you clung to the sheets, breathless.

Joel groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. “So fuckin’ perfect.” He muttered, slowly pulling back before thrusting in again, setting a slow, deep pace that had your entire body trembling beneath him. You could feel everything, every inch of him, every twitch and every pulse. The mix of pain and pleasure sent shocks through your body, making you whimper his name like a prayer.

Joel leaned down, his chest pressing against your back as he tangled his fingers with yours. “You’re takin’ me so well, sweetheart.” He murmured against your ear, voice thick with praise. “So goddamn good for me.” You gasped as he snapped his hips forward, fucking you harder, deeper, until the only sounds in the room were the wet slap of skin against skin and the broken moans spilling from your lips.

Joel growled, his breath hot against your neck. “Gonna fill you up, baby.” He groaned, his pace growing erratic. “Gonna make sure you’re stuffed full everywhere.” And fuck, you wanted it. Your body trembled beneath him, your fingers gripping the sheets so tightly your knuckles turned white. Every nerve in your body felt overstimulated and set ablaze by the sheer fullness that had you gasping for breath.

Joel was everywhere, inside you, around you and holding you down with his sheer presence as he filled you up in ways you’d never experienced before. The dildo still sat snug inside your dripping pussy, keeping every drop of his cum locked deep inside while his thick cock stretched your ass open, stuffing you so completely that you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

“J-Joel.” You whimpered, overwhelmed by the sensation, your body struggling to process the pleasure mixed with the intensity of the stretch.

“Too much, baby?” Joel groaned, pressing his chest against your back, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear as he murmured. You shook your head frantically, even as tears pricked your eyes. It was a lot, almost too much but you didn’t want him to stop. The pressure, the way he filled you to the brim and made your whole body burn with need.

“Use your words, sweetheart.” Joel coaxed, his large hands smoothing over your waist, grounding you. “Tell me what you need.”

You swallowed thickly, gasping as he rolled his hips, pushing even deeper inside you. “I…I need you to move.” You whispered, your voice shaking.

“Atta girl.” He praised, his fingers threading with yours against the mattress.

Joel pulled back slightly, the drag of his cock against your walls making you shudder before he snapped his hips forward again, setting a slow deliberate pace that had your whole body trembling. “Fuck, baby, so goddamn tight.” Joel growled, his breath hot against your ear. “Never felt you like this before.”

Your eyes rolled back as he pushed deeper, pressing down against your lower back to keep you in place, forcing you to take every inch of him. The pressure was overwhelming, your body stretched to its absolute limit, but the pleasure that came with it had your toes curling and your stomach twisting into knots.

Joel reached around, his fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles. “You’re takin’ me so well, sweetheart.” He murmured, his deep voice dripping with praise. “So fuckin’ full, aren’t you?” You could only nod, your mouth falling open as a broken moan escaped your lips. You felt wrecked, completely at his mercy, unable to do anything but take what he gave you.

“Such a good girl.” Joel groaned, his thrusts becoming rougher, more desperate. “Gonna fill you up again, baby, gonna make sure you’re stuffed full everywhere.”

“Joel, I-I’m…” Your whole body tightened at his words, pleasure coiling in your core and ready to snap. 

“I got you, sweetheart.” He murmured, his grip tightening on your hips as he slammed into you, burying himself to the hilt. “Cum for me.”And with one final stroke of his fingers against your clit, you shattered, pleasure crashing over you in violent waves as your entire body seized beneath him. Your vision went white, your scream muffled by the mattress as you convulsed and trembling from the force of your orgasm.

Joel groaned, his grip bruising as he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside your ass, filling you up even more. For a long moment, the two of you stayed like that, tangled together in a mess of sweat and heat, your bodies trembling from the intensity of it all. He pressed a lingering kiss against your shoulder, his hand smoothing over your stomach. “So goddamn perfect.” He murmured, his voice soft with admiration. You whimpered as he slowly pulled out, leaving you feeling empty despite the way your body was still stuffed to the brim. You barely had the strength to move, your body spent, your limbs weak.

Joel chuckled as he rolled you onto your back, his fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin. “Think I might’ve broken you, sweetheart.” He teased.

“You always do.” You let out a breathless laugh, your eyelids fluttering as exhaustion began to creep in. 

Joel smirked, leaning down to kiss you deeply, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips. “Get some rest, baby.” He murmured. “You’re gonna need it.”

Because knowing Joel, he wasn’t nearly finished with you yet.

-----

The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the bedroom. Joel stirred, his muscles aching in the best way after last night. His arm reached out instinctively for you, but the bed beside him was empty, the sheets cool to the touch. He frowned, lifting his head groggily. That was unexpected. After how he’d wrecked you last night, he was sure you’d be too sore to even think about getting out of bed.

Then a familiar scent drifted through the air, something warm, buttery and sweet.

Joel sat up, rubbing a hand over his face before pushing himself out of bed. Tugging on a pair of boxers, he padded down the hall toward the kitchen, his curiosity piqued. And what he found nearly knocked the breath out of his lungs.

You stood by the stove, humming softly to yourself as you flipped pancakes on the skillet. The sight alone was enough to make his chest tighten, you in his kitchen, making breakfast like it was the most natural thing in the world.

But it wasn’t just that.

It was what you were wearing.

Or, rather, what you weren’t.

You had on nothing but his shirt, the fabric draping loosely over your body and the hem just barely covering the tops of your thighs. Your legs were bare, your skin still carrying faint marks from where he’d held you down last night. And then, as you bent down to grab something from the lower cabinet, Joel caught a glimpse of something that made his cock twitch.

The dildos are still inside you.

His breath hitched. The sight of you plugged up, keeping everything he’d given you locked inside, sent a jolt of arousal straight through him. “Jesus Christ.” He muttered under his breath, his voice still rough with sleep.

You turned at the sound, a sly smirk curving your lips as you met his gaze. “Mornin’, baby.” You teased, flipping the pancake on the skillet like you weren’t standing there with two toys stuffed deep inside you.

Joel exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face as he took in the sight of you. “You…” He shook his head, chuckling darkly. “You’re somethin’ else, darlin’.”

“What? Thought you’d like the idea of me keepin’ myself full for you.” You arched a brow, feigning innocence. 

Joel let out a low growl, stepping closer until he was right behind you, his hands landing on your hips. His thumbs brushed over the curve of your ass, his fingers teasing the edges of the shirt that barely covered you. “You’re damn right I do.” He murmured, his voice thick with heat. His hands slid lower, tracing along your inner thighs before pressing against the plugs keeping you stuffed.

A shudder ran through your body, and Joel smirked. “You been walkin’ around like this all mornin’?” He asked, his fingers toying with the base of the toys, pressing them just enough to make you squirm.

“M-Maybe.” Your breath hitched. 

Joel hummed, his other hand slipping under the oversized shirt, his palm splaying across your stomach. “That’s real cute, sweetheart.” He murmured against your ear, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin of your neck. “Real damn cute.”

You bit your lip, pressing back against him, feeling the growing hardness beneath his boxers. “Breakfast’s gonna burn.” You reminded him breathlessly.

“Guess we’ll just have to work up an appetite first.” Joel chuckled, his grip tightening.  And with that, he turned off the stove, spinning you around to lift you onto the counter, where breakfast could definitely wait. Your breath hitched as Joel gripped your thighs, spreading them apart as you sat perched on the kitchen counter. The heat of his body pressed against you, his rough hands squeezing the soft flesh of your hips.

"You've been keepin’ yourself full for me, huh?" His voice was low, gravelly, thick with desire as he traced his fingers over the base of the toys still buried inside you.

"Wanted to make sure I didn’t waste anything you gave me last night." You nodded, swallowing hard. 

Joel let out a deep, pleased hum, his fingers gripping your chin and tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "That so?" His dark eyes roamed over you, his pupils blown wide with hunger. "You got no idea what that does to me, sweetheart." Slowly, he slid his fingers down, pressing against the dildo inside your soaked core, pushing it deeper. A whimper slipped from your lips, your body clenching around the intrusion.

Joel smirked, watching you carefully. "Still stretched out for me." He murmured, his other hand trailing down to the second plug nestled between your cheeks. His fingers brushed against it, teasing. "You really are my good girl, huh?"

"Y-Yeah…" Your breath shuddered out of you. 

That was all he needed.

Joel pulled his boxers down just enough to free himself, his cock already thick and leaking, the tip brushing against your inner thigh. He groaned at the slick heat of you, his hands guiding your hips closer to the edge of the counter. "Let’s see just how much you can really take." He murmured, rubbing himself against the dildo stretching your cunt. The sensation of him sliding alongside it made you tremble, your walls already fluttering in anticipation.

Then he pushed inside.

Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp as Joel slowly stretched you further, his cock slipping in beside the toy, filling you to an overwhelming fullness. Your body tensed, adjusting to the stretch, your hands gripping onto his broad shoulders.

"Fuck." Joel let out a shaky breath, his fingers digging into your hips as he bottomed out beside the dildo, feeling how impossibly tight you were with both inside. "Jesus, baby. Feels so goddamn good."

"J-Joel, it's too much!" You let out a breathy moan, your nails scratching down his back. 

"Nah, sweetheart." He murmured, pressing soft kisses against your throat, contrasting the way his hips rolled forward, pressing himself even deeper. "You can take it. Look at you, takin’ me so well."

Your body pulsed around both intrusions, pleasure sparking up your spine as Joel started to move, dragging himself against the dildo inside you. The pressure, the fullness, the sensation of being completely overwhelmed by him, it was too much and not enough all at once.

"You like this, don’t you?" Joel gritted out, his pace quickening, his cock throbbing against the toy nestled deep inside you. "Like bein’ stuffed full, like bein’ mine."

"Y-Yeah, fuck, Joel…" Your voice broke into a desperate cry as he angled his hips just right, hitting that sweet, aching spot inside you.

Joel groaned, watching your face contort with pleasure, drinking in every gasp, every moan. "Gonna make sure you feel me for days, baby." He growled, his thrusts growing rougher and more desperate. "Ain't lettin’ you forget who you belong to." Your body clenched tight around him, your climax barreling toward you with dizzying intensity.

"Come on, sweetheart." Joel murmured against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "Come for me. Show me how much you love bein’ stuffed full."

And with one more deep, bruising thrust, you shattered and your body trembling, pleasure ripping through you like a wildfire as you cried out his name.

Joel followed moments later, a deep groan tearing from his throat as he buried himself deep inside you, his release spilling into you, mixing with everything already locked inside. He held you there for a moment, breathing heavily against your shoulder, his hands still gripping your hips like he never wanted to let go.

Finally he leaned back, his gaze trailing down to where he was still buried inside you, alongside the toy. A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips. "Look at that, baby." He murmured, running a possessive hand over your stomach. "Still so full of me." You shuddered, barely able to move, your body spent and boneless.

Joel chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling back, his hands already gripping your thighs again. "Think you can handle one more round?" He teased, his dark eyes gleaming. "Or am I gonna have to carry you back to bed?"

-----

Joel never considered himself an addict. Sure, he had his vices, whiskey on a bad night, the occasional cigarette, and the way he indulged in work to distract himself, but this? This was different. This was an obsession.

And it was all because of you.

Ever since that first night, the night he saw you stretched and stuffed full, your body trembling, your breath hitching as you took everything he gave you, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. The sight of you, the feeling of you and the way your body squeezed around whatever he filled you with.

Now, it was a craving. A need.

And tonight was no different.

You were lying on the bed, sprawled out and completely bare, your flushed skin glowing under the dim light. The dildos he’d put inside you earlier were still nestled deep, one keeping you stretched around his size, the other snug between your cheeks, locking everything in place.

Joel stood at the foot of the bed, his dark eyes drinking you in, his cock already heavy and throbbing in his hand. He stroked himself slowly, savoring the way you writhed under his gaze. "You got no idea how pretty you look like this, sweetheart." He murmured, his voice thick with hunger.

Your breath hitched, your thighs twitching as you instinctively tried to squeeze them together, only for Joel to grip your knees and spread them wide again.

"Don't go gettin' shy on me now." He teased, kneeling onto the bed, his large hands trailing over your body, from the soft curve of your waist to the plush swell of your thighs. "You've been lettin’ me stuff you full for days now. Ain't no use hidin’."

A whimper escaped your lips, heat pooling deep inside you as he leaned down, his lips ghosting over your inner thigh, his breath warm against your skin.

"You keepin’ me inside all day, huh?" Joel murmured, his fingers teasing the base of the dildo buried in your cunt, pressing it deeper. "Makin’ sure none of it goes to waste?"

"Y-Yeah." You whispered, your voice barely audible.

Joel groaned, his cock twitching against your thigh. "Good girl." He praised, his lips pressing soft kisses along your stomach. "So fuckin’ good for me." You let out a shaky breath, your hands reaching for him, needing more. He chuckled, shaking his head. "Not yet, baby." He murmured, pulling back just enough to admire the view, the way your body trembled, stretched and full, completely at his mercy.

"Need you…" You pleaded, your voice desperate, your hips rolling instinctively toward him.

Joel exhaled sharply, his resolve snapping. "Yeah, baby?" He lined himself up, slowly pulling the dildo out before guiding his cock to replace it. He pushed inside, groaning as your walls clenched around him, still sensitive, still so tight. Your moan was pure bliss, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he bottomed out.

Joel gritted his teeth, the feeling of your already-stretched walls molding around him nearly sending him over the edge. "Fuck, sweetheart." He rasped, gripping your hips. "You were made for this, made to take me."

He started moving, slow and deep at first, savoring every inch of you, every little gasp and whimper that spilled from your lips. "You gonna let me keep you full forever?" He murmured against your neck, his thrusts growing rougher and hungrier. "Gonna let me ruin you for anyone else?"

"Y-Yes…" You gasped, your nails raking down his back.

Joel growled, his pace quickening, his grip on you tightening as he lost himself in the feeling of you, his obsession, his addiction and his everything.

And he wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Can we have more crazy antics of Oldest Batkid Danny!?

In particular order, here are ten things Danny "The Mence" Fenton-Wayne has done after being adopted by Bruce when his parents sold him to a lab:

1. Danny once flooded Wayne Manor before he found out Bruce and Batman were the same person. He thought Batman was a vampire and the running water would stop him. If they all drowned in the process, they at least would not suffer being vampire food.

2. Alfred has a rule that every Wayne needs to work part-time to be humble and appropriate working class. Danny created his own business of leading people on ghost tours and made SURE they always saw one. He purposely pointed at people in school after word got around and whispered, "The spirits want you." Everyone freaked.

3. Dick made ONE comment of people being mean to him in school for being raised in the circus. Danny cut the power in Gotham Academy and released laughing clowns animatronics waving chainsaws into the hallways. They were programmed to avoid "Fellow Circus folk" painting Dick as a hero when he walked his terrified classmates out .

4. During a live interview, Danny twisted the questions on the host, who was attempting to make Bruce look like a bad Father. He then painted Bruce as someone showing severe signs of depression (overly drinking, too many smiles, giving people too many gifts, vanishing from the public eye, and searching for comfort in someone's arm) and then making the host cry by psycho-analyzing him.

5. Organized a protest for affordable housing and kept kicking the gas grenades back at the cops when they were called on him. It took seven people to get him into a cop car in handcuffs, and he was hissing the entire time. When Bruce attempted to bail him out, Danny moved the funds to get the innocent people out and refused to get out of the cell until the cop who punched him cried.

6. He shaved Clark's head because he couldn't scare him with a knife. Clark was more impressed that he did it without him waking up. He left oniomous messages written in what Clark thinks is blood on his walls, saying, "Stay away from my Dad. Keep it in your pants."

7. Armed with a clipboard, Danny habitually throws people out of Bruce's galas. He doesn't even explain himself; he just pops up, points at someone, and shakes his head. A security team swarms the person and tosses them out before they can get a word in. Bruce did not hire that security team. (Danny throws out people flirting with Bruce)

8. He was accused of being Batman or working with him once. He responded with a smile and a gentle, "If I were Batman, I wouldn't have let any of them live." Everyone agreed there was no possible way he wouldn't go for the kill if he had the chance and never questioned him again about it.

9. He Got the words "Peace was never an option" tattooed on his back by a Crime Alley tattoo parlor. Bruce had to then bail him out again when Danny fought off a gang who attempted to mug him as he was leaving the alley with his new tattoo. He had proof it was self-defense and spent the entire news coverage gushing about the tattoo artist's skills instead of the mugging.

10. Every time Bruce brought a new kid after Dick to the house, they were under the impression Danny was a violent, unreasonable person. They were shocked to learn he's the most in touch with his emotions, regularly does self-improvement, keeps up with his therapy, and is so soft with them; he is the walking embodiment of Doting Big Brother. In his hero persona, he is just as gentle and fondly looked upon by the masses. It took them a moment to realize that Danny had copied Bruce's idea of keeping his hero and civilian ID separate. The only difference is that his Hero version is the Brucie, and his Civilian version Is the Batman.

[sttoru]

thinking of dating older bf!satoru. . .and i’m talking like you’re in your early 20’s and he’s in his early 30’s.

the way he texts at the start of your blooming relationship is super attractive somehow. like the most simplest of texts would get you weak in the knees. texts like ‘good morning, sweetheart.’ // ‘how’s my pretty girl doing?’ // ‘there’s my gorgeous girl.’ // ‘rise ‘n shine, sleepyhead.’ // ‘it’s okay, baby. i understand.’ // ‘you never fail to amaze me, huh.’

or when you’re being very risky via your messenger app, older bf!satoru is definitely the type to say ‘careful.’ // ‘you’re gonna get me in trouble.’ // ‘you’re being quite brave today, doll. // ‘aww, how adorable of you.’ // ‘mhm? that so?’

also . . . gives you money out of the blue. randomly. doesn’t question it at all. or sends expensive gifts your way too without you asking. older bf!satoru would text you stuff like; ‘here’s some money, gorgeous. want you to spoil yourself for me today, okay?’ // ‘just a little gift.’ // ‘you deserve a break, baby. here you go.’ // ‘got you something small.’

and then you check your bank account and it’s an easy $200 / $500 / $800 ++ added by him. or when he’s sending gifts to your apartment, it’s gonna be one of them reaaaaal expensive ones. probably ones you eyed before or had mention you liked very briefly, but didn’t get it because of the price.

definitely also the type to try and accommodate or match his texting style to yours as the months go by. kinda to match your energy. perhaps fails horribly at it, but it’s cute to see him try.

[skyrigel]

Simon who's known for his dry sarcasm and bland remarks, it doesn't matter what one says to him. It's his natural instinct at this point — to jab back or give a solid burn.

So it happened like this, he was injured after one of the mission, minor wounds, one misplaced bone from wrong landing, but it was the hollow eyed look, the roughed up and neglected state that made you double take over the lieutenant.

“Oh god,” you muttered under your breath, pressing the syringe up in air to check its ejection, “You look terrible !”

The last part was directed on him. Simon whose eyes were pinned on your back moved ever so slightly when you turned around.

“So do you.” He said like the words were placed on his mouth tip and were uttered as soon as his lips parted.

The statement wasn't wrong entirely, there has been shortage on staff and so it's only you and a handful of other nurses over the double hour shifts.

You glanced back at him, regarding, and assessed the minor wounds and some of which were not at all minor whatever the Lieutenant Riley had insisted on to the poor Doctor who was very happy leave him at that and assign the rest to you, a count of stiches and tablets and x-ray sheet rolled through your mind, unaware of the way Simon was biting his lips and looking very alerted. Like he was practicing something in his head.

“I didn't mean it.” He said quietly.

“mmm” You sat beside him, looking for the certain nerve and angling the syringe carefully over the pale wrist.

“I didn't mean it,” Simon said again, all hesitancy gone now replaced with a blazing edge, dragging his gaze along with you.

You could've laughed upon the urgency he said it with, the desperation came off in supersonic waves.

“I know, Simon.” You smiled kindly to his sincerest eyes. The sharp tip penetrating under his skin and emptying transparent vitals into his body.

“I think yer very gorgeous.” He blurted out and was torn between looking away or never letting go, at last he lowered his eyes where you applied little pressure oved his hand to redirect the circulation.

You pressed the gauze with eyes only on him, a sweet shy smile blooming across your exhausted face. “alright, rest now.”

And he did just as he was told. Probably the first time ever.

The last time he'd said, “I would rather rest in peace, than here.” And the doctor who had just dropped the bullet back on grey tray was horrified enough to ask whereabouts of the anthesia guy ASAP.

So if a certain nurse happened to smile throughout the thirteen hour shift, and if a certain soldier was thinking of ways he could end up in medical infirmary again. Then it was purely coincidence.

Masterlist

[ttroubledwaters]

it's 3 in the morning but regulus just called him "Jamie" for the first time

[iamespecter]

No I will not be apologizing, I am in emergency need of Showtime dopamine

[dumbass-hyperfixations]

The text comes at 9:07.

Eddie: Happy birthday, Hen! Hope you have a good one :)

Hen smiles down at her phone as she sets down her bag in the locker room. Someone really ought to teach that man how to use emojis (seriously, is he secretly 50?), but the text warms her heart too much to be bothered by it. At least someone remembered, even from another state. She’ll take the typed out smiley emoticon as a win.

Hen: Thanks Eddie 🥳 how are you doing?

Eddie: Almost done fixing up my house and making small breakthroughs with Chris every day. But I’m sure Buck’s keeping you all updated. How about you? Any big plans today?

Hen: I’m sure it’s going great, we’re all rooting for you ❤️ and yes, Buck’s giving us all the updates, hasn’t shut up about you since you left 😂

Hen: No big plans today, though. Shift, then takeout for dinner.

Eddie: Not even cake? You’re breaking my heart :(

Hen sighs. She’s breaking her own heart over this silly little thing. She feels ridiculous, being so excited and then so disappointed over such a small thing. She scoffs as she kicks off her shoes and shakes off her jacket before answering Eddie.

Hen: I guess I’m just not in the mood this year. Maybe Karen and I will get dinner over the weekend.

Eddie: Oh, Buck and I tried this great Italian place the night before my last shift at the 118! You should ask him for details, their spaghetti bolognese was amazing :D

Well, definitely not doing that. Not while Buck and the rest of the 118 are being excited over a different H.E.N. in their lives right now. Another thing she’s ridiculously jealous of today: firefighting gadgets. And the way Eddie isn’t able to keep Buck out of their conversation even for a second. She bets Buck never forgets his birthday.

Hen: Thanks, I appreciate the tip 🤗

Eddie: Anytime. Hope you have a great day :)

Yeah, Hen thinks. Against all odds, she hopes so, too.

***

Another text comes around at 14:32, while Hen is taking a break on the roof after that call for Archie, the self-proclaimed invisible man.

Eddie: Hey, just got off the phone with Buck. I’m sorry those dummies forgot your birthday :(

Despite it all, Hen chuckles.

Hen: Don’t be acting like you didn’t remember just because of the Facebook alert. I know you well, Diaz 😉

Eddie: Guilty. Still sent the text though!

Eddie: And I know it sucks, but just remember that they still love you. We all do. Probably gonna be making it up to you for a week. I’ll bet you 10 bucks Chim’s gonna send you balloons. Maybe even a serenading mariachi band.

She snorts into her phone.

Hen: Oh god, I hope not. Haven’t I suffered enough?

Eddie: True. You can always guilt-trip Buck into doing yard work for you, though. He’s pretty handy with that. Kind of wish he was here now, helping me around the house.

Yeah, she bets he does. God, those two are so sickeningly codependent. She’s gonna have to hold an intervention one of these days.

Hen: He’s been giving me THE WORST puppy eyes since they realized they forgot. Could probably make him wash the cars too.

Eddie: Yeah, saw ‘em. He called me all sad, asking about your favourite pie. If you don’t talk to him soon, your house is going to look like a bakery display for a week.

Hen: Thanks for the tip. I DO NOT need my kids on a sugar high after all of this 😂

Eddie: At least they remembered, right? And Karen?

Hen: LOL. Mara dressed up real cute. Not for mama though, for picture day 💔 and Karen at least noticed my (very very nice) birthday outfit, but didn’t connect the dots.

Eddie: Ouch

Hen: Yup. I guess she forgot because of the kids’ schedules. Still hurts, though. There’s usually not a thing missing from her trusty planner.

Eddie: I guess she figured she’ll remember. You guys have celebrated how many thousand birthdays together now? She probably just got too confident in her ability to remember everything she loves about you.

She tries to scoff, but it comes out a little wet. Of course, he’s right. And Karen’s gonna feel so bad when she realizes.

Hen: Damn you for being right.

Hen: I’m gonna be angry with you about that, because you and Athena are the only two people I can’t be mad about missing my birthday.

Eddie: Hahaha sure, if it makes you feel better! Gotta go now, getting ready for work.

Hen: I still can’t believe I’m gonna walk back down to the loft and not see you on shift with us 😔 your talents are being wasted in that Uber

Eddie: Don’t I know it :( take care, Hen. And make Buck your gardener! I’ll be expecting pics.

Hen: 🤔🤔 starting to think gardener Buck is more of a gift for you than it is for me…

What can she say, even in her desperate sorrows, she loves making fun of the whole BuckandEddie thing, no matter how platonic it might be.

The answer is immediate.

Eddie: I’ve gotten tired of all the cooking/baking photos Maddie keeps sending me. He needs new hobbies.

Hen: How many of those do you have?????

Eddie: So many.

Eddie: Save them all, though. I like seeing him happy.

Eddie: He is happy, right? Not just putting a brave face for me every time I call?

Well. She can’t even make fun of that.

Hen: Ever seen those videos of amputated dogs that are learning to move around with prosthetics?

Eddie: Yeah?

Hen: Looks kind of like that. Happy, but still getting used to those wheels instead of legs ❤️

Hen: (The amputated legs are you. And the wheels are all those six thousand two hundred and twenty-two FaceTime calls you’re having on and off shift.)

Eddie: Yeah, I got that. It’s the same for me, really.

Eddie: Really gotta go now. Let me know if Chim sends you balloons!

***

At 21:20, Hen’s the one to send the text.

Hen: [image attached]

Hen: I actually got those fucking balloons. Are you psychic?

Hen: Also featuring chocolates from Bobby.

Eddie: Ha! Not psychic, he’s just predictable.

Hen: LOL, that he is. The worst part is that I actually kind of love them.

Eddie: Not seeing 10 different pies on the table, though. Master baker crisis averted?

Hen: Not yet, but he acted like an awkward butler around me for the rest of the shift. Needed some time to cool off, but I’ll ask him tomorrow.

She sets the phone down and opens the basket of chocolates. There’s a note inside with yet another apology, a birthday wish, and a promise of homemade dinner on their next 48 off. I am loved, I am loved, I am loved, I am loved. She thinks the words on a loop in her head, intending on doing so until she believes then again. God, today sucks.

Her phone pings again, Eddie’s contact illuminated on the screen.

Eddie: I just realized. We have never texted as much as we did today.

Surprised, Hen snorts out a laugh.

Hen: That can’t be right. We’ve known each other for well over 7 years now.

Eddie: I’m serious! Check our previous messages.

And Hen does. The last text before today was a few months ago, when she wished him a happy birthday during their 96 off, to which he responded with a simple thank you. Before that, a bunch of school-related email screenshots and links, mixed in with some carpool-themed “I’ll be there in 15!”s and some Denny and Chris sleepover related negotiations. Each short text thread at least a few days, if not weeks apart. Wow.

Hen: LOL, are we even friends 😂

Eddie: Right?! Like, I know we are, but we have absolutely no way of proving it.

Hen: I’m blaming it on the twelve hundred groupchats the Buckleys have created over the years.

Eddie: Seconded! Why do we need one for every get-together? The original groupchat is fine.

“Mama?” Hen looks up to see Mara standing in the doorway, looking a little unsure of herself.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Mom’s calling you for dinner,” Mara says. “Or, she’s asking if you feel like joining us.”

Hen sighs and stands up. To her surprise, the weight of her chest is lifted somewhat. She didn’t even notice that she calmed down and switched her mood during their chat.

“Of course, I’m coming,” she says and hugs Mara again for good measure before they head to the kitchen. Just to let her know nothing is wrong, that she’s not mad at her. Or anyone, in fact. This stuff happens. I am loved, I am loved, I am loved.

After dinner, she sends Eddie the picture of the cake Mara and Denny brought her.

Hen: [image attached]

Hen: Got the cake after all ❤️🎂

Hen: Thanks for today ❤️

Eddie: Looks good! And, anytime :D

[neon-in-the-night-time]

haven't kept up with miraculous ladybug in years but a fic idea that's lived rent free in my brain is a transfem!adrien lesbian!marinette reverse love square where when adrien gets the black cat miraculous her hero form is a girl and she's like "wow this is so smart, so secret identity, nobody will ever suspect i’m chat noire because chat noire is a girl and adrien agreste is a boy" and plagg, knowing that this is Not the case at all for miraculous holders and it is, in fact, a reflection of the subconscious, says nothing because Don't Crack the Egg. adrien has a crush on marinette but she feels bad about it because marinette is openly a lesbian and adrien's like "if only i could be chat noire forever so i can be with marinette", marinette has a crush on chat noire, it's great.

[chatxkilluaxnoir]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Gravity Falls Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Wendy Corduroy & Dipper Pines, Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines, Dippy Fresh & Dipper Pines, Daryl & Nathan, Alcor the Dreambender & Mizar the Gleeful, Alcor the Dreambender & Original Character(s) Characters: Dipper Pines, Alcor the Dreambender, Wendy Corduroy, Dippy Fresh, Daryl, Nathan, Mabel Pines, Mizar the Gleeful Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Transcendence (Gravity Falls), Demon Dipper Pines, dipper runs into someone he never thought he would meet again, nor did he ever want to meet him again, dipper still has beef with and hates dippy fresh, for now at least., Maybe. - Freeform, Ficathon, TAUathon, 9th Annual TAUathon, finally posted another fic., this TAUathon inspired me!, now let's hope i can keep posting and updating new fics and stuff now!, but we will just have to see about that! haha., Title Subject to Change, I suck at titles and stuff sometimes so I don't know if my title is that good., So I might it later if I can come up with something better., Or maybe someone else(s) can think of title(s). Summary:

Dipper is trying to win a dare. During doing this, Dipper runs into someone he didn't think it was possible to meet again.

Or maybe it was that he just never wanted to meet this person again.

Or it could be both.

Either way. Dipper runs into someone he could have gone his whole (now VERY long) life without ever meeting again.

[formulafics]

BEST FRIEND’S BROTHER (is the one for me)

SCENARIO: in which reader experiences nighttime anxiety, and finds solace in their best friends brother.

STARRING: GN!Reader, LN4, OP81, CL16, LH44, GR63, MV1, FC43, LS2, & MS47

WARNING(S): anxiety mentions, anxiety traits (such as fiddling or skin picking, self doubt, etc.)

AUTHORS NOTE: self indulgent fic who cheered? also maybe the start of a series; just a variety of scenarios regarding drivers as your best friends brother? 👀 And, as per always, shoutout to @renarots for always supplying the ideas when my brain refuses to 😼

Conversations with Lando have always been frequent, and you’ve always had chemistry, the two of you.

Lando knew he was too far gone when he realized he was thinking too much about the way you clearly had a crush on him, that went beyond the line of simply being amused by your infatuation with him. He knew he was no longer just basking in the confidence boost of that when he began unintentionally thinking of you in his room, on his bed, in his arms—

He’d recalled your anxiety. You mentioned it once during a late night talk with him, fueled by sleep deprivation. He could relate to it. Maybe he didn’t have the same anxiety, but his mind always raced at night, too loud for him to sleep at a decent time.

He’d often hoped you’d come to him, that maybe he could be a safe place for you. So, when you finally come knocking on his door…

He was fast asleep. His feet carry him groggily to the door, because for once, he’d been able to sleep. However, when he sees you, he’s wide awake.

Lando smiles, just slightly, then his brows furrow with concern and said smile falls when he sees your distressed expression. “What’s wrong?” Asks his raspy, sleepy voice, and your heart flutters, mind momentarily distracted from worry. However, his question then processes, and you sigh.

“Anxiety.” You respond simply, and he nods understandingly. You watch as he yawns, lifts his hands to his eyes to rub them, before he steps back to let you into his room. It’s cleaner than you’d expected, his cologne wafting faintly through the air. LED lights line his bed frame, a dim red glow surrounding his large, incredibly inviting bed. It’s nice in here, and you almost feel guilty for finding so much solace and intrigue in Flo’s brother, but you also know she’s contently asleep in her room. She needs her sleep, you decide, pushing away your guilt.

Lando lets you explore, watching from his doorway. He quietly shuts the door, then walks to his bed, plopping down on the edge.

“What’s got you worked up, then?” He asks, after a few moments of quiet, and when you turn to see his hazel eyes staring at you, sleepy and soft, but also concerned, your heart sinks in a way that’s somehow overwhelming and delightful at once.

So, you explain your anxieties. The rational and irrational fears, the thoughts that keep you up — and when he realizes you’re actively spiraling, he gets up and steps towards you, reaching out to gently brush his knuckles against your arm.

“Hey,” he hushes you, smiling warmly when you look at him. “You’re okay,” he assures you. “It’s okay to be anxious,” he adds, rubbing your arm now. “What makes it better?” he asks gently, and you huff a small laugh.

“You.” You say, a small, amused grin on your lips, as your cheeks warm. He laughs lightly, shaking his head, as he lets his fingers gently grasp your hand. “Be serious,” he retorts, though there’s a glimmer in his eyes that assures you that he liked the flirty comment.

“I don’t know what makes it better,” you say honestly, gently grabbing his hand, looking down at your hands. His fingers rub your palm, yours caressing his in return, as he slowly laces your fingers. He hums quietly, acknowledging your words.

He looks down at your hands, too, as they intertwine, and he squeezes yours, his other hand finding your free one. He guides your arms around himself, and then lets go of your hands, wrapping his own arms around your shoulders.

The sigh you let out, and the way you relax into him says it all. He smiles, resting his cheek against your hair.

“Let’s start with this, hm? If it doesn’t work, I have other ways I can help you,” he says. You both realize the unintentional suggestive tone in his words, and it makes the pair of you laugh.

Shaking your head against him, you squeeze him gently. “Yeah. Let’s start with this.”

“Worst case, there’s always Oscar.”

That’s what Hattie told you, regarding your anxiety. If all else failed, you could go to Oscar…yeah, no. You’d thought about it more than you’d like to admit.

You liked to imagine that he’d hug you and console you. You could hear his soft voice assuring you that it’s okay, that you can always come to him, but you’d also conjured up a more harsh alternative, being that he would think of you as dramatic or a burden.

Which is why you currently stand outside of his door, in the hallway, reluctant to knock on his door. He’s asleep. You’re certain. The lights are off, none seeping through the cracks of his door. It silent in his room, safe from the very faint sounds of his breathing.

The longer you stand there, the more you spiral. Tears brim your eyes, and just as you turn on your heel to walk away, you hear rustling. His feet hit the ground, and you hear the click of what you’re assuming is a lamp. You glance back, seeing a soft golden glow peek through the cracks of his door, and your heart leaps, the tears still in your eyes.

Then, his steps are quiet, but near, and before you can properly scurry off, his door opens. His eyes are squinted, brows furrowed. His hair is tousled in a way that makes you yearn to run your fingers through it. Then, you meet his gaze.

By the time you lift your hands to wipe your eyes, Oscar’s already noticed your distressed, near-tears state.

His brows furrowed even closer, and his lips part to speak. “Are you alright?” he asks lowly, accent deliciously coating his sleepy voice.

You blink a few times, before responding, your tongue spilling the words before you can stop them.

“I’m just really anxious and Hattie wouldn’t wake up, so I was gonna see if you were up, but obviously you were asleep, so I was just gonna leave, and I mean, you scare me a little bit anyways—“

“I scare you?” He asks, interrupting your ramble. He chuckles breathily, shaking his head slightly. “I’m laid back, not mean.” He says, making you laugh nervously.

Oscar just smiles, a small one, as his eyes scan your features. He sighs softly, not an irritated sigh, and looks over his shoulder, perhaps checking the time. “I can’t promise to be a good helper, but you’re welcome to my room and company anytime.”

Oscar, in that moment, knows you’re not just his sister’s friend. Not when he’s quite content with losing sleep, if it means helping you in any way.

Days are fine. Days are fun. Especially with Arthur Leclerc dragging you around Monaco, but then comes nighttime. The anxiety had been rolling in since dinner, waves of dread regarding the battle that is yourself against sleeping. You’d been sure that you’d be comfy in the Leclerc home. You’re very close with Arthur, his family is always welcoming, but as you lay on the couch in his living room, your heart thumps against your ribcage.

You stare through the sheer curtains of the window, seeing moonlight seep through them, illuminating the room just slightly. You glance at the TV — perhaps the distraction would help, but you choose against it, too worried about disturbing others.

By the time your breathing is fast, and you feel your eyes burn as they do before tears come, footsteps sound. They’re faint, soft. Then, you hear the sound of a chair on the floor, a quiet scraping sound. Then, a padding sound. *Leo.*

The small, golden-haired puppy scurries across the floor, and if that wasn’t confirmation enough as to who the other footsteps belong to, the sound of the piano in the music room is all you need.

You sit up, letting your feet hit the floor, as you lean down to pet Leo’s small head, running your fingers through his silky coat. Despite the anxiety you felt moments ago, the soothing sound of the piano, and the overwhelming cuteness of the dog under your hand is enough to distract you.

When Leo wanders to his water bowl, you watch, then look to the door of the room that you know Charles is in. You hadn’t taken him for an insomniac, but you can definitely imagine him now, with tousled hair and sleepy eyes, likely in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants, slender fingers dancing over white and black keys…

Charles is a sweetheart. He’s always been incredibly kind to you, in a way that makes you wonder if it’s special treatment. It is.

As you think about *that*, rather than your anxiety, you find yourself slowly standing, and walking to the music room. Pushing the door open, you’re met with Charles’ backside. watching as he plays the piano. It feels too domestic for a moment, too peaceful, and when he looks over his shoulder, the jolt of his body implies you’d startled him.

Laughing quietly, you smile apologetically. “I’m sorry,” You say quietly, and he shakes his head, spinning around on the bench.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks, and you tilt your head, eyes narrowing with curiosity. Maybe he just made an educated guess, but there’s a certain look on his face, like maybe he knew you were anxious— did he?

“Arthur told me,” Charles says, as if he could read your thoughts. He smiles sheepishly, avoiding your gaze. “He mentioned it, when he told us you’d be coming with him,” he clarifies, and you nod understandingly.

“What about you?” You ask, meeting his gaze. He holds yours, long lashes casting a faint shadow onto his cheeks. “I couldn’t sleep either,” he muses simply.

If only you knew he was planning this, that he was seizing an opportunity to gain your attention.

Lewis rarely stays up late. He prioritizes his performance on track, and no one works well under a lack of sleep. That being said, the man is still a night owl, so when his schedule allows, he happily stays up a bit later than usual.

It’s past midnight as he sits on the leather couch in the spacey living room, his heels propped on the coffee table, and his laptop rested on his thighs. His eyes are narrowed with concentration— and the inevitable sleepiness washing over himself — as his fingers move across the keyboard, quiet clacks sounding with each word typed out.

His airpods are in, and Roscoe is curled up next to him, sleeping contently. The house is quiet, but your mind is far from that.

You lay in the spare bedroom, eyes fixated on the ceiling, watching the fan go round-and-round. You’d always figured you’d ’grow out of’ your anxiety, and in some ways, you had learned to manage it better, but you still have those moments where it drowns you, and you can feel yourself slowly slipping into that.

Your chest is heavy, and each moment of calm in your brain is combatted by a rush of worry.

Letting out a soft breath, you sit up, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed you’d been nestled into. You slide your hoodie over your head, grab your phone, and head to the door. Maybe fresh air and a different view would help your mind relax. Everyone’s asleep, you could just have a moment to yourself, right?

Lewis may be immersed in his work, but he doesn’t miss the movement within his peripheral vision. He looks up just in time to see you scurrying into the kitchen, your sock clad feet quiet on the smooth, hardwood floor.

You hadn’t expected the man to be there, so when you made it to the bottom of the stairs, finding him on the couch, you immediately went for the kitchen. Standing in the somewhat private space, you sigh, shaking your head at the way your heart is racing for a reason unrelated to anxiety now.

Who doesn’t find Lewis Hamilton attractive, at least a little bit? You figured your “crush” on him was just because he’s conventionally attractive, but being in the same vicinity as him, you’ve always felt a pull towards him.

You grab a glass from one of the cupboards and pour yourself a glass of water, gulping it down. He wouldn’t mind if you sat with him, would he? Your brows furrow as you debate that— would he let you in his company just to avoid being seen as rude? Would that be worse than being flat out told no?

Meanwhile, Lewis is wondering if it’s his place to check in on you. He’d been amused at the way you seemed startled by his presence, but also didn’t miss the nervousness you seemed to exude.

Before he can make any further decisions, you come out of the kitchen. His brown eyes flicker to you, following your form as you walk back through the living room. He cocks a brow as you slow, as if to stop, then keep walking, then pause again at the stairs.

“I don’t bite—“

“Can I sit with you?—“

He laughs with you, as you’d both spoken at the same time. You meet his eyes, and his warm smile makes your heart skip a beat.

“You wanna sit with me?” he repeats your words, and you nod slowly. “I just…get anxious, at night, and company might help,” You explain.

Immediately, a look of understanding washes over his face, and he nods. “Come on,” he encourages gently, and he can’t help but just grin when you choose to sit on the floor in front of the couch, just next to his legs. He has to resist the urge to reach out and pet your hair, his fingers twitching over his keyboard.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks you, partially to distract his own mind. He meets your gaze as you look over your shoulder, his eyes staring into yours in a way that makes it hard to maintain eye contact.

“It’s a lot,” You muse, and he shrugs, taking out his airpods, a smile gracing his lips.

“I have time and patience.”

George is pretty serious about his schedule. From what he chooses to snack on (*cough* him asking “would an athlete snack on chocolate?” *cough*) to his workouts, and right down to his sleep schedule, he rarely goes off that.

So, George isn’t your best option, you rule out, as you sit on the air mattress next to your best friend’s bed, trying to control your shaky, uneven breathing. He’s fast asleep, probably has some busy day tomorrow, and even if he’d be polite enough to give you his time, he’d definitely steer clear of it in the future. Anyone hates the idea of being a bother to another.

Looking up above your friend’s bed, you find her asleep, curled away from you, shoulders shifting as she melts further into the bed.

With a heavy sigh, you grasp your phone and get up, quietly leaving the bedroom. If nothing else, some fresh air might do you some good.

You find your place in the almost luxurious lounge area of their home, curled up on a small couch, staring down at the ground as your mind races. However, the sound of a door opening, and footsteps following, makes you look up.

George.

He sees you as he rounds the corner, and even on his sleepy way to the bathroom, he still looks well put together.

He gives a friendly, playful smile. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite, am I right?”

Of course this man would make a dad joke.

You manage a breathy laugh, more of a huff, watching as he walks into the bathroom and shuts the door.

Meanwhile, George can’t help but think a little harder than he might need to about your reaction. Typically, you’d banter with him, be it by making fun of his stupid jokes, or telling one that’s just as bad, and tonight, you’d just seemed off. Not to mention, he’d found it odd that you weren’t in the bedroom…not that it’s his business, but he can be a nosy man at times, and suddenly, he’s worried.

As he comes out of the bathroom, his gaze lands on you, and then meets yours when you look back up.

“What?” you ask, brows furrowing. You figured he wouldn’t pick up on your state, especially with you trying to mask it for his sake.

“You alright?” He asks, accent clear as day, as if he hadn’t most likely been sleeping peacefully moments ago.

“Uhm,” you pause. Should you tell him, or just let him be on his way? Is it more annoying to leave him wondering? He probably doesn’t even care that much—

“We may not be close, but I’m always here if you need anything,” he says, voice kind, the smile on his lips equally as polite. After all, you’d been friends with his sister for years now, and it’s not like you’d never spoken to him.

So, you give in. With a reluctant sigh, you watch as he walks down the stairs and stands in front of you, tilting his head, as if to encourage you to go on.

“…I get anxiety,” you finally say, feeling a bit ridiculous to be keeping him up for this. “Anxiety?” he echoes, “about?”

“Everything,” you laugh, shrugging. “My brain just gets really active at night, and I tend to spiral into bad thoughts, but most of it’s irrational, and i’ll be fine—“

“What can I do?” he asks, as he looks at you with worried eyes. “To help, I mean,” he expounds.

You blink a few times, a bit taken aback at how eagerly he’s jumped to that. “I feel better talking to someone,” you admit, and he hums in acknowledgment, nodding.

“Is it alright if I sit, then?” he asks, gesturing to the space on the couch next to you, and takes a seat when you give him permission.

While it takes a few minutes of silence, he eventually gets talking, and you find that despite how you imagined a situation like this going, it’s vastly different. He’s patient, talkative in the right way, and a good listener.

So, when you eventually drift off in your spot, after George was rambling about something you truthfully didn’t have much interest in, he smiled to himself, laid a blanket over you, and took himself back to bed.

Safe to say, you weren’t a bother to him. At least, you can’t imagine you were, when he brings you breakfast the following morning, and offers to take you out for coffee.

Max frequently stays up later than he should. He likes how peaceful and quiet things are at night. No one’s awake to be in his space, he feels most comfortable by himself, and it’s a great time to invite himself to the driving simulator without being interrupted, or forced to share.

He doesn’t bother to check the time. It’s late, he knows that much, as well as the fact that he doesn’t have any reason to be up early later. His hands grip the steering wheel of his sim, eyes fixed ahead on the screen, as he seamlessly takes corner after corner of a track. He’s got a headset on, and no more light than one lamp next to the couch, just enough for him to see his surroundings, but not so much that it’s glaring on the screen.

He’s so focused that he doesn’t notice when you watch him from across the room, peaking out of the hallway. You’d initially been coming out to refill your water, and use the bathroom, trying to power through your anxiety, but now, you’re finding that this is working wonders to soothe your brain. Your eyes flicker from the screen to his face, watching his expressions shift, the way his brows furrow and lips purse slightly…or the way the veins in his forearms move under his skin-

He also doesn’t notice when you set your phone down, then leave, and return with a blanket, and make yourself cozy on the couch. You don’t really want him to know you’re there, anyways. Is this an invasion of his privacy? You briefly wonder, but eventually decide that it’s not like he’s doing anything scandalous, and he’s in the main room of the house anyways.

Max eventually finishes a handful of laps and exits out of that particular track, then leans over the arm of the chair to grab his water bottle, only to then realize that you’re lying there.

His eyes widen, then his brows furrow, and he pulls his headset off, taking in your form. Your stretched out on the couch, blanket laying neatly over your form, and your hands are laying on your stomach. He can tell you didn’t just sit down, and mentally backtracks, trying to remember when he last knew he was alone.

“Well,” he starts, staring at you, looking over the edge of the chair. “What’s this about?” he asks, and you smile slightly. You’d become rather comfortable with Max. He’s a nice guy, always been polite to you, and you always end up sitting next to him when you go out to eat with his family, anyways, so it’s only natural that you learned how you can talk to him.

“Anxiety,” you shrug. “I just like watching you play, and tonight, i’ve learned that it helps my brain quiet down,” you explain.

He hums, nodding slowly. He can understand that, in some way, he supposes. He looks back at the screen, then at you. “Do you want to try?” he asks, gesturing to the sim. “…It would help, maybe? Take your mind off of things?” he suggests.

It always shocks you how considerate he can be, and every time, your heart warms.

Max has good intentions, he does, but fuck does he hate watching other people drive the sim. As he explains (maxplains) the driving to you, and tries not to cringe too hard at the way you handle the car, you find that this is a fantastic distraction. You’re well aware that you’re driving him to insanity, and before you can tease him, your eyes get heavy, and you slowly drift to sleep.

When the car first starts going off track, straight for the barriers, Max thinks you have to be fucking with him…and then he realizes your head is tilted to the side, and you’ve somehow fallen asleep in the damn driving seat.

He spends a lot longer than he’d like to admit being baffled at your actions, before he comes to carefully take apart the arm of the sim, and scoop you out of the seat. He’s a strong guy, and for some reason, the only rational way to go about this, in his mind, was to carry you to bed.

Halfway down the hall, he realizes how much of a hassle it would be to open Victorias door and put you back on the air mattress without waking you and her up, so he just pushes into his own room, lays you in his bed, and tucks you in.

He stares down at you in his bed, a sigh leaving his lips. He wants to be irritated, but more than anything, he’s relieved that you’re clearly in a better state.

Safe to say, he finds it very hard to focus on the sim when he goes back to it.

Franco Colapinto is one of those people that can get along with anyone. He’s fun, talkative, usually good at reading the room, and it’s rare that he doesn’t get on well with someone.

So, it’s only natural that you and him had been well acquainted. However, you’re also one of the lucky people that gets to experience his flirtatiousness. In fact, he’s been flirting since day one, and you’ve been matching his energy the whole time. He loves it, and so do you.

That being said, even though you’re relatively close, and consider him a friend, your anxious mind has convinced you that he flirts with you because it’s fun, rather than because he likes you, even as just a friend. He flirts with everyone, and thus, your brain uses that against you.

Which is why you walk past his room, and down to the living room, where you sit on the couch, looking out of the window, into the beauty of Argentinian greenery that’s currently illuminated by moonlight. You practice your breathing, letting your eyes flutter shut. Your chest only feels a little lighter when you hear footsteps, and look over your shoulder to see Franco there, staring at you with mischievous curiosity, like he’s ready to pop off a flirtatious joke. In any other moment, you’d be just as ready, but right now, you’d rather not.

You don’t speak, unable to curate the correct words to express your feelings in a way that feels right. Fortunately, Franco seems to understand by the look on your face that now isn’t the time to flirt. He holds your gaze, then walks into the kitchen. You refrain from watching him, not wanting to give away your interest in literally anything he does, simply because it’s him.

You hear him grab a glass…then another? Then, it sounds like he’s pouring water into one, before a click sounds, like a kettle.

Within a few minutes, he’s bringing you a mug, and has a glass of water for himself. You raise a brow at him, taking the mug despite your skepticism.

“Franco, I don’t really want to be hopped up on maté right now—“

“Not maté,” he assures you, with a wave of his hand, “it’s to help you relax, amor. I promise.”

You trust him, and the sincere twinkle in his pretty eyes is enough that you’d be convinced even if you didn’t trust him already.

He watches you bring the mug to your lips, and reaches out to guide it slower to your mouth. “It’s hot,” he murmurs, aiding you in taking a sip, watching so attentively. Your chest warms, and you know it’s not just the tea. You’ve seen Franco be gentle, obviously, but this is different, and oh, so divine.

“Why are you still up?” he asks you softly, fingers brushing yours as he retracts his hand.

“Anxiety,” you muse simply, and he nods understandingly, reaching out to rub your arm. He’d only experienced your anxiety once, some time ago when his sister mentioned you were having a hard time, and he’d noticed your shaky hands at the dinner table.

His hand trails up to your hair, and he pets the back of your head, as if to brush away your worries. Rather than fixating on your anxiety, he starts talking about how nice it is to have you around again, and his excitement for the upcoming season. You and him grew up together, in a way, even if you’d been “closer” to his sister.

By the time your tea is half finished and cool, you’re leaning into his side, and he’s gently taking the mug from you, setting it down on the coffee table. He guides you further into his hold, and you comply, letting yourself melt into his warmth, and the sound of his voice continuing to talk to you.

“You think I flirt with you for no reason?” Franco asks, laughing quietly, as if that’s unbelievable. “Franco, you flirt with anything that has legs and speaks a language you understand,” you grumble into his shoulder, making the man huff quietly. “Ay, dios mìo,” he murmurs, resting his cheek on your head. “Maybe it doesn’t seem that way, but I flirt with you differently,” he explains quietly, “and I flirt with you because I want to, because I like you.”

If you weren’t half asleep, you’d pry into that response. Instead, you let yourself heart feel content with the knowledge that you’re more than what you’d managed to convince yourself of.

Throughout the night, you learn that banter isn’t the only thing that comes easy to you two. You talk and talk, various topics coming naturally, and by the time you’re both drifting to sleep, the sun is peeking through the window. And, in due time, you’d be found curled up on the couch together, confirming everyone else’s suspicions.

Logan’s schedule is all over the place. Some nights, he’s out by 9 pm, and others, he’s unable to rest until early morning. Tonight is one of those insufferable ones where he’s tossed and turned, and not one position is comfortable enough to stay in for more than five minutes, his bed is getting too warm, even though he’s thrown off the blankets and stripped his shirt off, and he’s tired, but not sleepy.

“Oh my god,” he murmurs to himself, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to clear his mind enough to relax. As he lowers them, his head begins to throb, and he sighs heavily. Of course he’d get a headache now.

As he sits up and reaches for his water bottle, a timid knock sounds on his door. “Just a sec,” he says just loud enough for you to hear, and takes a few gulps of water, before he gets up. He slides his shirt back on before opening the door, and even though it’s not necessarily crazy that you’re at his door, it still takes him aback. He hadn’t really thought about who it would be.

“Shit, are you okay?” he asks, when he notices your distressed features, immediately dropping his own frustration.

“Not really,” you murmur, fiddling with your hands, picking at the skin around your nails. “I’m just having a really anxious night, and I can’t sleep,” you explain.

Logan had always been a sweetheart. He’s polite and respectful, always the type to open doors for you out of habit, the kind of guy you could always go to if you needed it. Which is why you’re coming to him now. You’d known he was up, after hearing him shuffling in his room, and the opportunity seemed to present itself to you.

The man stares at you for a moment, pressing his lips together as he contemplates how to go about this predicament. He looks back at his room. It’s not messy, but it’s not clean either. He needs to do laundry, has a few pairs of shoes here and there that should be in their rack in his closet, and of course his bed is a clear representation of his inability to rest. He doesn’t exactly want to invite you into his space. If it’s stressing him out, he wouldn’t want to have you there, and risk making your troubles worse.

“Would a drive make you feel better?” he asks, looking back to you, blue eyes meeting yours. “A drive?” you echo curiously.

“Yeah, like…the suns gonna be up in a few hours,” he shrugs, “we could go to the beach, grab some breakfast or something,” he thinks aloud, and he speaks almost hesitantly, like he’s scared that he’s suggesting the wrong thing.

Meanwhile, your heart skips a beat with excitement, and you nod. “Yeah, yes— if that’s not an issue for you?” you ask, brows knitting with a new concern that this is an inconvenience for him.

“No, no,” he shakes his head adamantly, grabbing his car keys off of his dresser. “I can’t sleep either,” he assures you, offering a small smile, and the tiredness in his eyes says it all.

Thus, you join him for a long car ride. He drives smoothly through Floridian streets, giving you the time to talk about your struggles, should you want to. He shares his own, as if to help you feel more comfortable, and after some time, he offers you the aux chord.

As the sun starts to come up, he drives to the beach, and you both sit down on cool sand, shoulders together. Waves roll just to your feet before retracting, the sound soothing. The sun slowly arises, shining down on the both of you.

You let your instincts take over, and rest your head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as you soak up the gentle warmth of the morning sun. Logan sighs contently, and rests his cheek against your head, as if to assure you that you’re fine where you are, with your head on his shoulder.

You grew up on the Schumacher ranch. Being family friends and having a love for the work, you’ve been helping since you were a child, and now spend a majority of your time as a ranch hand, helping take care of things. You were best friends with Gina as a child — still are — and likely would have been just as close with Mick then, if it weren’t for him being away for races most of the time.

Now that he’s back home more often, you’ve been able to get closer with him, your relationship bordering on more than friends, but not quite a couple. Everyone else sees it, though, and you think about it too often to not want it, truthfully.

You’ve also always struggled with anxiety. You’ve got an active mind, and working yourself from sun up to sundown has always kept the irrational worry at bay. However, recently, for whatever reason, it’s kicked back up, and tonight has been particularly bad — the worst in a while.

So, after tossing and turning, you get up and head out to the stables. You check on the horses, even if you know they likely don’t need to be checked on, and as you round the corner, you find Mick sitting on the ground, hand on the mane of a foal.

Huffing a small laugh as he meets your gaze and smiles, you tilt your head playfully. “It’s past your bedtime, Micky,” you hum, making the man laugh gently.

He checks his wrist, an imaginary watch, and raises his brow, looking up at you, “it’s also past your bedtime,” he teases back. “What’s up?” he then follows up, making you sigh.

“Just anxiety. Nothing fun, unfortunately,” you muse, taking a seat in front of him. You admire the young colt next to Mick, a small smile forming on your lips as the cool air greets your skin, and you feel momentarily comforted by surroundings you’re so fond of. The ranch, nice weather, the horses, and undeniably, Mick.

“Awe,” he frowns sympathetically, nudging his boot against yours as if to comfort you, and it works. He’s not sure what to say, how to make it better, but the fact that you’re smiling, even if only a little, makes him feel better. “How have things been?” he asks, leading you to walk him through just that.

He’s stared at you as you rundown the ranch gossip, the ranch hands that have come and gone, some wanting to stir up drama, some wanting to put their nose where it doesn’t belong. You tell him that you’ve been following his races, that you and Gina watch them together.

“Gina misses you more than she’d ever admit to you,” you hum, making Mick chuckle, smiling fondly at that thought. They’d always been fairly close, close as siblings can be. “Not to make it about me, but i’ve missed you too,” you add, making Mick’s smile wider.

“Yeah?” he inquires, nudging your boot once again. “You can always text me, or call, you know that, right?” he asks, and you honestly hadn’t thought about that.

“I want you to, actually,” he adds. “It would be good to hear from you more…I miss you too.” He muses, and by now, you’re not so worried about anything, and far more focused on the knowledge that your feelings for Mick are definitely not one sided.

THANK YOU FOR READING! requests are open for any drivers written above, and i do headcanons, written fics, text fics, and smaus, as well as any reader.

I appreciate your support and time. 💌

[surelyimisheard]

he's literally shy

[eggdrawsthings]

When does a man become a monster? And is he a monster, still, if he  feels nothing but regret and guilt?” [x]