#i just wanna know what they had in mind when they did this. how and why would btas bruce turn into this

[azzibuckets]

sweet [part two]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: wrote and posted this in a car and i’m about to throw up w nausea so tread lightly

word count: 1.6k

masterlist

Azzi doesn’t want to admit it, but Ella is lovely.

When she’d stepped into the bar and met her for the first time, she’d half hoped that she’d be a clingy asshole that she could justify hating. But Ella is beautiful, with curly dark hair and full lips and gold studded ears. And she’s sweet, her voice gentle, and she gushes about how pretty Azzi is. So she can only tack on a pained smile, compliment Ella on her outfit, and hug Paige and tell her she did good.

Now, after seeing Ella so many times, they could almost be called friends. Azzi didn’t have to ask Paige when she’d told her about their history - she could see it in the way Ella had become a little more distant, wary of the two of them together, but she was always sweet as ever. And Azzi couldn’t help but think about how perfect - how perfect for Paige - she was.

Lately she’d fallen in a routine: go to games, congratulate her teammates on their win, and head back to her apartment or hotel room to sulk about her life while they did pressers and celebrated. But now, Azzi is determined to erase all thoughts of her irritatingly hot best friend from her mind. She’s snuggled into her bedsheets, prepared to rewatch Frozen for the twentieth time when she hears a knock on the door. Expecting it to be another Ubereats driver that Paige has been sending more and more frequently, she’s more than a little surprised when she sees the devil herself standing at the door.

“Surprise,” Paige says dryly, holding up a bag of takeout before pushing past Azzi.

“Well, come on in,” Azzi says sarcastically. “Didn’t know you took up a side job.”

“If the only way to contact you is through delivering food, then yeah, I will.“ Paige sets the bag down on a counter a little harder than she needs to. Her hair is freshly wet and down around her shoulders, water still dripping down her hoodie. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold, and although her eyebrows are pinched together in annoyance, the sight of her still makes Azzi shudder with want.

“Tell me how we’re teammates, we live down the hall from each other, I see you at every practice and game, and yet it’s impossible for me to get you to talk to me.” Paige questions, a fiery look in her eyes.

Ignoring the older girl, Azzi starts ruffling through the bag. Paige sighs irritatedly, running a hand through her hair, and Azzi knows the older girl well enough to know that she’s close to her last straw. “What’re you even doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be doing press right now?” Azzi redirects.

Paige yanks her sweater off, causing her shirt to ride up and expose the soft skin of her abs. Azzi swallows and looks away. “They’ll be fine without me.”

“Maybe normally.” Azzi unwraps the foil on a taco. “But you just dropped a 30 piece and I’m pretty sure the reporters are dying to hear from their little star.”

“I couldn’t give less of a fuck about the reporters,” Paige shoots back bitterly.

“What about your girlfriend?”

Paige’s eyes narrow. “What about her?”

“You don’t wanna go and celebrate her? With our team?”

Paige shrugs.

Azzi scoffs. “You’re so full of bullshit.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“You dropped thirty points.”

“Yeah, you mentioned.”

“See, this is the fucking issue.” Azzi throws her hands up, exasperated. “Normally you’d be all up in my ass about it, gloating.”

“You’re mad I’m not an asshole who preens about her performance in front of someone that can’t even play?” Paige scratches her head, and Azzi almost laughs at how comedic the situation is.

“You’re missing the point!” Azzi’s voice rises, and she fights to keep it in control. “You should be out there getting drunk off your ass with our friends and your girlfriend, but you’re over here, trying to take care of me.” Azzi knows Paige loves celebrating after a win, especially after a performance like tonight’s. Her best friend thrives in the company of others. And although there’s a small part of her that softens at the fact that Paige clearly rushed here to be here after one of the best games of her life, the part of her that loves Paige more than anything in the world - the biggest part of her - is angry that the older girl felt the need to come here and join Azzi’s pity party, to act nonchalant about her performance when she deserves to be surrounded by praise.

“You’re mad at me for caring about you? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” When Azzi refuses to even look at her, Paige takes a step closer, reaching for her hand. “Can you just stop being so unselfish for once? Let me help you.”

“I don’t need you, Paige.” The wounded look in her best friend’s eyes makes Azzi correct herself. “I don’t need you to pity me.”

“You took care of me when I was injured last year! How is this any different?”

“God, you just don’t understand.”

Paige rests her hands on the counter. “I can’t do this. Not with you.“ She closes her eyes momentarily, and when she opens them Azzi expects her to storm out of the room. But instead, her eyes soften. “Can we just watch a movie or something? We don’t have to talk.”

Azzi falls silent.

“Do you want me to go? Because if you don’t want me here then I’ll leave.” Paige pauses. “But I want to be here. I want to be with you.”

“Okay,” Azzi relents. Paige bites back a smile, and Azzi rolls her eyes fondly.

Azzi lies down on the couch, curling herself into Paige’s side. The older girl’s hands slip under her shirt, moving across her back in a way that feels heavenly. Her eyes flutter shut, and she’s almost asleep when Paige’s phone rings and she slides out from beneath her, gently covering Azzi with the blanket before shutting herself in the other room.

She can barely make out the words, but she can hear from the softening of Paige’s tone and her giggling that she’s talking to Ella.

When Paige comes out, there’s hesitation before she walks over to Azzi on the couch. She hears the sound of Paige breathing heavily for a few moments before she feels a hand on her jaw, the brush of lips on her temple. “I love you,” she hears Paige murmur, so quiet she can barely catch it, before the door shuts and there’s silence.

••

“Azzi?”

Azzi picks up her cup of coffee. “Oh hey, Ella.”

Ella grins at her, the intensity of her smile a little disarming. “Thought that was you! Fancy running into you here.”

Azzi smiles politely.

“Well, hey, I know this is kind of an awkward time, but I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Ella fidgets with her fingers.

A band of discomfort spreads across Azzi’s chest. “Go for it,” Azzi says hesitantly.

“Well, O know you and Paige have been friends for a while.” Ella blushes. “I just, I can’t help but ask - there’s nothing going on between you two right?”

Azzi is a little relieved when she opens her mouth to speak but Ella raises a hand to cut her off. She wasn’t sure what she would’ve said anyways. “I don’t wanna be that girl. I know how important you are to Paige. But she just talks about you sometimes - or even just looks at you and - and I just can’t help but wonder?”

God. “Ella. You don’t have anything to worry about. Me and Paige are just friends. That’s-” Azzi forced a smile. “That’s all we’ll ever be. Okay?” She doesn’t say that if it were up to me, it’d be different. She doesn’t say that it’s unfair how this girl has Paige already wrapped around her finger when I’ve been in love with Paige since I was 16. But she doesn’t.

Ella nods, clearly relieved. She squeezes Azzi’s arm. Azzi wants to tell her to take it off. “If you don’t mind,” Ella continues. “I have another favor to ask.” She takes a furtive look around before stepping closer. “A little bit of space would be nice,” she says under her breath.

“Space?”

Ella nods. “You know how new relationships can be. They’re kind of rocky. And besides, Paige has been stressed with leading the team and the shit going on with her family.”

“I know that.” Azzi’s voice is cold now. She shifts Ella’s hand off her.

Ella smiles again, and this time it doesn’t seem as sweet. “Paige cares about you. A lot. But it’s taking kind of a mental toll on her, balancing all of these things and you at once.” Her eyes flick to Azzi’s crutches.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m not saying you’re a burden. But I’m saying that Paige is always worrying about if you’ve eaten, how your knee is doing, and all that shit. Maybe giving Paige space would help her be, I don’t know, a little less stressed?”

When Azzi stares at her without a response, Ella steps back with a shrug. “I don’t mean any harm. I’m just looking out for my girlfriend.” Ella stresses the my, and Azzi doesn’t miss the way she eyes her as she says it.

She inhales slowly. “Okay.” And as much as she doesn’t want to believe Ella, how could she not? She sees how happy Paige is when she runs to her after games. Ella, as much as Azzi hates her now, gives Paige the support she needs. And she’s not wrong - this has been the most difficult season for the senior yet, having to lead a team of mostly injured players and underclassmen when no one believes in them. And the way Paige had left yesterday night, not even halfway through the movie….as much as Paige refused to admit it, she didn’t want to be tied down by Azzi. Fuck. Had I been hurting her this entire time?

“So…space?”

“I can do that.”

“Great! Thank you, Azzi. I knew you’d understand.” Ella flashes a smile before looking at the menu. “Do you think Paige prefers matcha or cold brew?”

Paige hates matcha. She thinks it tastes like grass.

“Definitely matcha.”

[lacydollette]

Lol, this is from my own current personal angst in my life but I was thinking it can be used for an angsty Rafe x Reader. I have very low self esteem, I don't think I look pretty so I have a hard time accepting that a guy could be interest in me or find me appealing, especially cuz guys have called ''mid''. Right now I'm talking to THE sweetest guy. THE most greenest flag of all. Super respectful, mature and kind. I had a freakout and pushed him away, wanted to stop talking. He got super upset, send me a drunk text basically being like ''I'm so attracted to u and your everything I've ever dreamt of. I just wanna make you happy and make you smile. Your so special to me. I keep saying that your beautiful, amazing and gorgeous but you won't hear it. Please don't let your insecurites get in the way of us. I fkn miss you'' I mean...hey feel free to take whatever inspiration you want from that, change it, build on it, whatever you want! We just want a sappy head over heels Rafe who is heartbroken being pushed away (but with a happy ending)

a/n tysm for sharing this with me! and please don’t let your doubts get in the way of your happiness. you are BEAUTIFUL and you MATTER ❤️‍🩹 i hope u like this little piece.

warnings rafe cameron x fem!reader, reader with low self esteem, situationship, angst, fluff, rafe being a sweetheart

Rafe couldn’t really tell when it started, but he could feel it in your forced smiles and short responses. He tried to convince himself it was nothing, but the ache in his chest told him otherwise. Every attempt to figure out what he had done wrong was met with your dismissive shrug and a short, “I’m fine.”

But what Rafe didn’t know about was the chaos in your mind. You liked him—really liked him—but your insecurities were keeping you from letting yourself fall completely. You couldn’t ignore the way girls seemed to flirt with Rafe at parties, the way people whispered that you weren’t pretty or cool enough, to be with someone like him. It didn’t matter how many times he told you that you were beautiful—the doubt in your mind drowned out his words. So, you began to pull away, convinced it was only a matter of time before he realized you weren’t what he wanted.

And that’s why Rafe ended up going to this party alone, although it should have been a night that you two spend together. You had promised to go, only to back out at the last minute with a stupid excuse about not feeling well. Rafe knew you were lying. Obviously he didn’t want to go without you, but after Topper wouldn’t stop begging him, he gave in.

He spent the first hour trying to lose himself in the crowd, nursing a beer and pretending to laugh at Topper’s jokes, but it was useless. Every girl who tried to flirt with him only reminded him of you, and every drink made the knot in his chest tighten. Eventually, he escaped out into the yard, needing space to think—or maybe just to breathe.

The cool night air sobered him slightly, but not enough to stop him from pulling out his phone. His fingers hovered over your contact before he finally hit call. It rang three times before you picked up.

“Rafe?” You said softly, voice trembling slightly. You winced at how vulnerable you sounded.

“hi, baby.” he said, his voice breaking slightly before going right in. “What’s going on with you? Please, just tell me. Did I do something? Did I hurt you somehow? Because if I did, fuck I swear to God, I didn’t mean to.”

Your throat tightened, guilt twisting in your stomach. He sounded so desperate, so unlike the confident, self-assured Rafe you knew. You didn't know what to say, how to explain something you couldn't even fully understand yourself.

“Talk to me, y/n,” he pleaded. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep guessing what’s wrong. I care about you too much to lose you like this.” His voice cracked, and he raked a hand through his hair, his frustration spilling over. “I’m completely crazy about you. I don’t care about anyone else. You’re it for me. You’re the only one I want.”

Your heart shattered at his words. He cared about you, really cared about you. But how could he? How could someone like Rafe Cameron, with his perfect smile and effortless charm, care about someone like you?

"Rafe..." you whispered, unsure of what to say. “No,” he interrupted. “You have no idea how much you mean to me. I think about you all the time—when I wake up, when I go to sleep. You’re all I want, y/n. And if there’s even a part of you that feels the same way—then please, stop pushing me away.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Rafe leaned against a tree, his heart pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else. Then he heard you breathe out, followed by muffled sobs, which you tried so hard to suppress by pressing your palm over your mouth. You wanted to believe him, wanted to let his words sink in and erase all your doubts. But the fear was still there.

“I didn’t think I was enough for you,” you finally whispered, voice trembling. “You could have anyone, Rafe. And people keep saying I don’t deserve you, and maybe they’re right.”

“Are you kidding me?” he said, his voice rising as he couldn’t believe that you’d actually think that. “Baby, you’re more than enough. You’re everything. Don’t let what other people say get in your head. They don’t know you. They don’t know us.”

Your sniffle came through the line, and he could picture you wiping your tears, head bowed like it always was when you were upset. “I just… I didn’t want to hold you back.”

“You’re not holding me back,” he replied softly. “You’re the only thing keeping me sane.” He paused. “Please, just let me in. Let me prove to you how much you mean to me.”

The sincerity in his voice was undeniable, and you believed him. Believed that he was serious about you two. “Okay.” You said. Relief washed over him, and he exhaled shakily. “Okay,” he repeated, his lips curving into a smile. “I’m coming to you right now.”

Your eyes widened, “No, Rafe, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he said firmly. “Stay where you are. I’m coming to you. We’ll figure this out together.” And with that, he ended the call, his heart pounding with determination. He didn’t care what anyone else thought. You were his, and he wasn’t going to let you go.

[xotaemintol]

MARK.LEE x F BLACK READER - SO ANXIOUS

“We can’t just keep talking ‘bout the last time…you were here, what we did…”

//This fictional oneshot includes the following: unprotected sex, fem pet names (good girl, pretty girl.) mentions of masturbation, oral sex, nipple play, tongue kissing, and mentions of getting caught. If you are a minor GO AWAY! But if you are triggered by any of these things please look away kindly, thank you.//

|5.4k wc| feedback is much appreciated>^< |

  You sat on Donghyuck's couch feeling frustrated. He invited you over but went to bed in the middle of the movie, and because it was so late he recommended that you stay the night. So you sat on the couch sulking as you continued the movie you were supposed to finish with Hyuck. 

"Y/N?" You flinched hearing Mark's voice in the darkness, immediately you grabbed the remote, nervously fumbling it around before pausing the movie and turning your head to him. 

"I didn't know you were here, why are you sitting there by yourself?" He asked. You shifted around nervously and laughed a little. 

"Uhm, Hyuck went to bed early." You responded, "We were supposed to be watching a movie but he kept dozing off." You explained. 

Mark nodded, in the dimly lit living room you could just barely make out him stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants. Standing there awkwardly.

"I didn't know you were here either, he didn't uhm..." You cleared your throat and sat up straight, "He didn't tell me." Mark nodded again and looked at the tv, then back at you.

“So uhm, what’re you watching?” He asked, you turned back to the tv and raised your eyebrows. “Oh!” You exclaimed, “Uh, Don’t Buy The Seller. It’s about this woman who buys a used dryer or something from this guy but it doesn’t work…” 

You paused for a moment. It’s been so long since you’ve been alone with Mark. Ever since a slight mishap four months ago, you’ve been so awkward around him. Although he seems to be mostly comfortable, it’s obvious that your reaction to what happened still has him on eggshells. 

With a slight hesitation you looked back at him and asked; “Do you wanna…watch it with me?” In an anxious manner he responded: “Yeah, that’d be nice.” 

Now as Mark sat beside you with his hands sweating and his heart pounding, you both sat facing forward—watching the movie in complete silence. It was like you were both afraid to move. The remnants of that night still fresh in your mind. 

You can still see it so clearly in your head. The way he held you against his body, ignoring the sounds of your friends playfully cheering as they egged you both on—he slowly leaned in and you followed. Sat on his lap with your hands pressed softly against his chest, and gripping his shirt when your lips finally touched. 

It was just a short kiss. It only lasted about seven seconds, no more and no less. But, it was so intimate, and intense, and passionate. Your mind felt so clouded afterwards and you couldn’t even continue playing the game. 

“Awww! Are you really forfeiting?!” Chenle teased. If not for their teasing, that kiss wouldn’t have happened—a good and a bad thing. When you looked at Mark you felt like your whole body was going to burst into flames. Of course you went home early that night.

In Marks mind, as he sits beside you all he can think about is how much you must regret that day. Watching you frantically put on your jacket and shoes as you ordered a cab home made him feel so stupid. It was his fault for accepting the dare. If he’d just said no then he would have only had to take a shot. But when you looked at him and laughed as you teased him about being scared, he felt like he was finally winning. 

If only he could go back in time and force himself to say no or deny Chenle’s insane dare. Then he wouldn’t be sitting next to you feeling so anxious. 

Neither of you had moved an inch or said a word, it only made the tension worse. You couldn’t tell if it was hot or if you were only imaging things. You couldn’t stay like this, you felt like you were going to suffocate. 

You opened your mouth to speak, slowly turning to him—but Mark was going the same thing. Before you could get a word out he spoke. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Huh?” 

You looked at Mark with a confused expression. What did he have to be sorry about? The tension? The silence? The heat? The kiss? Why would he apologize? It’s not even like him, he always goes completely silent before apologizing first. That’s not his thing.

“For kissing you…I shouldn’t have, I should’ve said no.” Slowly, the confused expression on your face turned into a look of amusement. 

You grinned a little and cocked your head to the side.

“Why would you be sorry about that?” 

He had no reason to feel that way. You wanted to kiss him, you made it known the moment Chenle gave him the dare. You were literally shaking in your seat waiting for Mark to say yes, if anything—you felt it was your fault for teasing him when he looked like he was going to back out. 

“I mean, for making you uncomfortable. If I knew you didn’t feel that way then I wouldn’t have-“ You stopped him, snickering as you asked; “Uncomfortable? Did I look uncomfortable?” 

He paused, now looking at you with a blank expression. It’s obvious Mark remembers that night differently from you, so you ask him.

“Do you remember how that night went?” Slowly shaking his head he licks his lips and says; “I’ll be honest, it’s kinda like, not a blur but like patchy? Like I can remember it, but I can only remember you leaving and then you being super nervous around me afterwards.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully, the movie still playing in the background. 

“I told you to kiss me, I even made fun of you for almost saying no to the dare. If anything, I should be saying sorry.” 

Realization hit him like a bus. His eyes slowly widened and he let out a nervous laugh, covering his mouth as he said; “Really?” With a smile on his face. 

“I mean, I just can’t remember you saying that. Like I remember you teasing me about it, but I don’t remember you telling me to you know, kiss you.” 

The awkward tension had finally fallen off your shoulders, but it was quickly replaced with one much more intense—enjoyable, but heavy and sexual. 

Even like this Mark is so charming. His anxious stammering and his facial expressions are just as swaying as always. How could you not want him? 

“How could you forget that? What were you thinking about while I was on your lap?” You asked, Mark immediately looked away from you and shook his head. Chuckling to himself. 

“Nothing…” You raised your eyebrows at his suspicion response and asked again. “Pfft. I’m not telling you.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because…” 

“Because what?” You pressed. 

Mark paused. His thoughts were getting the better of him. How could he admit his filthy thoughts out loud? How can he possibly tell you how in that single moment every fantasy he’d had, every time he’d shamefully touched himself, fucked his fist, and said your name—played in his mind and drowned out the sound of your voice? 

“I uhm…I don’t remember.” He lied. 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, for some reason, you wanted to know what it was that turned that night into a jigsaw puzzle in his mind. So, you mustered up all the courage you had and channeled your most confident self. 

But with a shaky voice you asked; “Should we recreate it then?” Mark laughed, his voice cracking as he said loudly; “What?!” So unbelievably anxious. 

“To jog your memory, obviously there’s a lot you don’t remember. Should we refresh your mind?” 

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. Sitting beside you with his tongue pressed against his cheek and his legs spread, he leaned his head back against the couch and let out a short puff of air. Trying to regulate his body.

“Y-Yeah…” Mark looked at you, his head resting on the couch as he said in a soft and slightly desperate tone: “Help me remember it…” 

You felt like you were going to melt. Slowly, you stood up knocking the soft blanket that covered your legs onto the floor. You stood in front of him, preparing yourself mentally for what was about to happen. You wouldn’t dream of backing out now. 

“Are you sure you want to do this though?” Mark wrapped his hand around the back of your thigh, pulling your body between his legs as he looked up at you with his eyebrows knotted together and his face red. 

“If I weren’t I wouldn’t have asked.” 

You tried to seem confident, but as you inhale deeply and placed your knee on the couch beside his waist you felt your whole body begin to tremble in excitement. 

“Let me help you…” Mark grabbed your hand and sat back further on the couch. Allowing your legs to fold on the sides of his hips as you slowly sat down. 

The second you were seated on his lap you both felt flashes of heat wash over your bodies. You could feel the heat from his thighs through both of your thin pajama pants, and you were praying he couldn’t feel the heat radiating from your pussy. 

“So…we were just like this…” You spoke slowly and licked your lips. Your brain felt so scattered as you spoke. 

“Mhm, yeah?” 

Marks voice was so smooth and soft, you almost rolled your eyes in pleasure at the sound of his soft hum. 

“And…your hands…” You grabbed his hands and carefully placed one on your hip and the other on your back. 

You shuddered as he adjusted them a little, moving one to your lower back and the other to the middle—right in the little curve. 

“…Your hands were right there.” He nodded and licked his lips, moving his hips back just a little; trying to create space between your butt and his crotch. 

Before you’d even sat on his lap he felt himself getting hard, but now with his hands on your body and you on his lap he knew it was only a matter of milliseconds before you felt his dick pressing against you. 

“And my hands were here.” You placed your hands on his chest and lightly gripped his shirt. 

You both freeze. Looking at each other as that kiss replayed in both your minds, just like before he slowly leaned in and you followed. Forgetting the purpose of all of this as your nose bumped against his. 

“I think I remember now…” He said in a low and gentle tone. You felt like you could hardly speak, breathlessly you ask him what. 

“I was thinking…” There was no need for him to hide it now. He was fully erect and the heat from between your legs was so noticeable, you couldn’t hide it if you tried. His brain was on autopilot and the only thing working was the part that thought of you. 

“You look so pretty on my lap.” Your stomach felt like it was doing flips, between your legs there was a strong pulsating feeling accompanied by a warm wetness that was beginning to spread. 

There was nothing left to say. Finally, Mark closed the space between you. Settling the aching desire to feel his lips on yours. 

Just like last time he kisses you slowly, his soft lips melting into yours before his tongue slips into your mouth. The feeling of it against your own makes you feel so dizzy. You could kiss him forever and eight years. 

He held you closer and moved his hands to your hips, pressing them down into his own. It doesn’t take a sign for you to get the hint. Pressed down onto his erection you begin slowly moving your hips, moaning quietly into his mouth as the friction causes you to feel more needy and sensitive than before. 

“You’re so fucking pretty…” Mark muttered against your lips as he pulled away. Your body felt weak, your hands just barely grip his shirt as you move your hips in a circular motion. 

Mark pulled away but only to move onto your neck and shoulders, kissing them through your thin shirt. He was so excited. He’d dreamt about this for so long now. 

“Can I take it off?” You looked down at him and he looked back up at you, the fire in his eyes and the feeling between your legs paired perfectly. 

You nodded your head and relaxed your body a little, letting him bunch your shirt up and throw it to the side, revealing your bra. Oh how he’d pictured you on his lap, in nothing but a bra. He couldn’t believe that it was coming to fruition. 

“Fuck, you’re so damn gorgeous.” He kissed the middle of your chest, then your shoulders, and then the top of your breasts. His hands slipping to your back and poking at the clasp of your bra. He didn’t even had to ask. 

“Take it off.” And you didn’t have to tell him twice. 

Mark fumbled with the clasp of your bra for a second or two, struggling to get it off he laughed nervously and looked at you. 

“Sorry, I uhm, I’m so nervous...” You giggled and stopped him. “You’re nervous?” He nodded. 

“But, I’m ready. I’ve been waiting for you for so long, you don’t know how badly I’ve wanted this.” You offered him a comforting smile and kissed him passionately. 

“Take your time…there’s no need to rush.” He exhaled deeply, his chest filed with excitement as he nodded his head and slowly unhooked your bra. 

Mark waited. Holding his breath as the straps loosened and fell from your shoulders just a little. He thought he’d evaporate if he moved too quickly, so he slowly peeled them away. Moving them down to your arms slowly as his eyes focused on your breasts. 

Fully exposed you sat on his lap trembling in excitement, pure greed and desire clouding your mind as he groped one of your breasts, rolling one nipple between his finger and thumb while slowly and carefully sucking the other. 

Your back arched and you closed your eyes. Cursing softly as your hips shuttered. 

“Fuck…Mark…” 

He’d been waiting longer than you could ever imagine to hear you moan his name like that. His dick was throbbing, aching to be touched but all he wanted to do was touch you. Please you, make your body react, hear your voice and do all the things he’s imagined. 

As he switched his mouth to the other nipple you shivered as his saliva dried on the other, creating a cooling sensation as he gave the other the same treatment. Groping the other with his full hand as he looked up at you to watch your expressions. Wanting to see your face scrunched up in pleasure just like he did in his dreams. 

Although it felt good, you wanted more. The feeling of grinding against him wasn’t enough anymore. 

“W-Wait…” You placed your hand on his shoulder and Mark stopped, letting go of your breasts as he breathlessly waited for you to say what you wanted. 

“Can I touch you?” 

“Touch me?” 

You moved back just a little, sitting more on his thighs as you placed your hand on the bulge in his grey pajama pants. Mark shuddered and bit his lip. 

“Can I suck it?” He let out a short laugh, in pure disbelief as he nodded his head. “I-I mean, if you want to, do anything you want.” 

You got off his lap and onto your knees in front of him. The sight of you in front of him like this made his whole body feel like it was static. 

Helping you remove his pants he lifted his hips and placed his hands beside yours as you tugged on them. As they drop to his ankles you look at him with hungry eyes and he returned it. He wanted to eat you alive. 

You raised up more and he helped you remove his boxers. The air hitting his dick made him quietly whimper. Laying against his stomach it leaked a small puddle of sticky precum, the clear substance leaving a small trail behind as you take it in your hands and bring it up to your mouth. 

He had nothing to say, watching with full eyes as you got closer. 

Your soft lip place a kiss on the head of his dick, kissing the slightly enlarged and pink slit as you watched his face. 

Mark’s nose scrunched up as he licked his drying lips and tried to relax. 

“Why do you look so nervous?” You teased. Mark could hardly make the words out, saying simply; “You’re just so…you make me feel so excited.” He admitted. 

“Do I?” Just as he opened his mouth to respond you swiped your tongue across the slit of his cock. Causing him to let out a choked moan. “F-Fuck.” His voice cracked as you laughed softly in a teasing manner. 

You repeated this action, collecting the mostly flavorless substance on your tongue. When you finally felt ready you took just the head into your mouth. 

Mark stiffened up. Holding his breath he sat tongue tied and on edge, his whole body overcome with pleasure. 

“T-Take you…oh my god.” He threw his head back and fell silent as you swirled your tongue around and took his dick just a little deeper. His stomach felt tight and tingly, his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows and tries his hardest not to break so fast. 

“Take-Take your time…please.” He said, more for his sake than your own at this point. 

You closed your eyes and relaxed your jaw, placing your tongue on top of your bottom teeth as you took him even deeper, the feeling his the tip of his dick hitting the roof of your mouth made you feel so horny. 

You’d imagined this for so long. The feeling his the vein of his cock rubbing against your tongue, how heavy it felt in your mouth as you slowly bobbed your head—stroking what you couldn’t get into your mouth.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good baby…so fucking good.” Placing his hand on the back of your head, avoiding pushing your head down Mark’s hips buckled unintentionally. “L-Look at me baby, let me look at your pretty eyes.” 

With drool dripping from your mouth and pooling around the base of his cock you opened your eyes and looked into his. He melted right away and closed his eyes. 

“So fucking pretty…such a good job…such a good…good job.” 

As good as it felt this wasn’t Mark’s plan. Sure he’s imagined you sucking his dick before, but that could wait. What he really wanted was to please you. 

“W-Wait wait wait…wait baby, wait.” 

You stop completely, his cock coming out of your mouth with a soft popping sound—a line of your saliva and his precum connecting between your mouth and his dick. 

“Let me touch you, I wanna make you feel good.” 

Kicking his pants and underwear off his feet he helped you up to your feet and stood up, giving you a short peck on the lips before helping you lay down on the couch. 

“Just like that, good girl.” You bit your lip and smiled uncontrollably at his praise. 

Mark joined you on the couch, mounting you carefully to kiss you again. This felt so much different than it did on his lap, you felt more exposed but it felt so good. 

“Can I taste you baby?” Your mind felt like it was buffering. With hazy eyes you nodded your head. “Yeah? You want me to make you feel good?” 

Kissing his way down to the band of your pants, Mark kept his eyes on you. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.” Slowly, he pushed your pants down, your underwear caught underneath the bunched up hand of your pants come down with them. “How many times…” He kissed your thigh, “I imagined the pretty faces youd make while I’m eating you out.” 

Mark littered your thighs in kisses, leaving your pants and underwear at your calf’s. 

“I wanna make you feel so good, you deserve it so much baby.” Your body was trembling. Even in a moment like this Mark can’t wait a second to vocalize his emotions. 

Finally, he removes the last bit of your clothes completely. Feeling shy you looked away and closed your eyes, but this wasn’t going to fly with Mark so he reached up and grabbed your hand. 

“It’s okay baby, look at me.” He waited before doing anything else. Letting you get a good look at his face, allowing you to look into his eyes for a second and relax before he proceeded. “Just relax, okay?” You nodded your head slowly and inhaled deeply. 

“I promise, I’ll take care of you, okay? I’m gonna make sure you feel good.” 

After making sure you were comfortable Mark raised legs and instructed you to place them on his shoulders, leaving him in between your thighs and face to face with your pussy. 

“You’re just so beautiful baby.” Mark started with a few kisses, testing the waters to make sure you were fully comfortable before dragging his tongue up your slit. 

Your body tensed and your toes curled. 

“Relax for me, just lay back.” 

Mark’s tongue glides up your pussy one more time, collecting your love on his tastebuds before he closes his eyes and begins focusing his tongue on your clit. His mouth practically clings to you as he moves from your clit for just a second, licking up the juices that drip from you as he moves his hand down to his dick. 

He couldn’t help himself. The taste of you and the sound of your voice made him feel so desperate. As he slowly stroked his cock he went back to your clit and traced small hearts onto it. 

Your legs shook beside his head, fueling his desire to please you even more than before. He moved his hand from his dick and used his elbow to prop himself up as he slipped his other hand between your bodies. 

Slowly and carefully he stroked your entrance with his middle finger, using your love as lubricant so he wouldn’t hurt you as he slipped it inside. 

“Oh my god! M-Mark!” He grinned against your pussy, chuckling softly as a wet sound comes from his mouth. He pulled away for just a second, saying; “You sound so good like this.” 

Mark curled his finger upward, rocking his wrist back and forth as he drew small circles on your clip—applying just a little pressure on the bundle of nerves.

His hand was already getting soaked, dripping down his wrist and onto the couch; it would definitely leave a stain that Hyuck would likely ask about later but Mark couldn’t care less. 

“N-No…oh fuck…I-I, I’m gonna…I fuck.” You strung together whatever words you could manage out, trying to warn Mark about the feeling in your stomach. But he didn’t stop for a second. 

Instead, he slipped another finger inside and went a little faster. Drawing out a loud moan from you that he was sure his sleeping roommate would hear. He could feel your velvety walls convulsing around his two digits, making him put more focus into stimulating your clit. 

“Mark! Mark! Mark I-I- fuck! Feels so g-good!” He looked up at you, watching you writher around as he went a little faster. 

Your voice broke before you went completely silent. The only thing to be heard was a small build up of liquid that began gushing out, wetting the lower half of his face, his arm, and even his bicep. 

The knot in your stomach had tightened and snapped before you could even warn him. Your body jerked as you pushed his head away, but instead of stopping he kept going for a second longer. Enjoying the sound of your whimpers as you told him it was too much. 

Chuckling, he finally let up and sat on his knees between your legs as your body jerked and shook from the orgasm ripping through you. 

“Breathe for me baby,” Mark said, he placed his hand in your stomach and watched you with a smirk on his wet face. “In…and out…” You followed and closed your eyes. “Just like that, good girl. You’re so good at listening.” 

He leaned down and kissed you, the taste of yourself on his tongue as he slips it inside of your mouth. You weren’t even close to being done yet, not without feeling him inside of you. 

“Mark,” You whined as you pushed your hips towards his. “Fuck me, please?” 

Mark bit his lip and sat up, cursing softly as he looked around. He didn’t have a condom. Of course he wouldn’t, he’s in the living room. 

“Let me go grab-“ You stopped him as he started to get up, placing your hand on his forearm you looked up at him with glittering eyes as you said in a coaxing tone he couldn’t deny; “It’s okay, please just fuck me.” 

He never thought he’d be doing this. But here he is, denying what he knows is right as he lined his dick up with your entrance. Allowing you to brace yourself as he began to grind against your already sensitive pussy. 

“You sure baby? I don’t think I’ll be able to pull out…” You nodded and opened your arms, wanting to wrap them around his shoulders. You looked so damn pretty. 

“Shit…” Mark cursed and slowly pushed himself inside of you, slipping inside so easily. 

Your wet heat pulls him inside, engulfing him with a softness that he could only dream of. Your walls pulse around his dick as he whimpered, eyes almost watering as he bit his bottom lip so hard it might bleed. The feeling was almost too intense. 

The way you called out his name and dug your nails into his shoulders made him want to cry. He’s never felt so good. His hand could never, ever compare to the feeling of you. 

“I-I’m gonna put it all the way in…” Mark spoke slowly, but his words were still messy. All you could offer as a response was a nod. 

Laying underneath him as his dick stretched you out, filling you up so deliciously as he began panting above you. 

Mark was so careful. Being as slow as he possibly could, letting you feel every inch, every vein, and every throb of his cock. And when you looked and felt ready, he began moving. He pulled his hips back just a little and then moved them forward again. 

“S-So deep…” Your voice faded out as his slow and long strokes turned your brain off. 

“Does…Does it feel good baby?” He asked, sounding so lewd and smug. “You feel how deep I am?” You nodded your head, arching your back as you gasped for air. 

The feeling was so passionate, you were already sensitive but with him pressed against every spot inside of you it felt like you were going to float away and he had just barely gotten started. 

“F-Faster…”You looked up at Mark, you didn’t have to beg. His broken expression told you that. “Please, go faster.” 

“Faster,” Mark changed his pace, stroking a little longer and a little faster. “Like this baby? Hm?” Your eyes rolled back and you slapped your hand against the arm of the couch. “You want…fuck…you want me to go faster? Huh?” 

As Mark sped up you grew louder. Gripping the armrest as your body went weak. You felt like you were chasing after your every breathe. It was like that one request pushed him to the edge. 

“J-Just like that!” You yelled out. Moaning so loud as if Donghyuck wasn’t just one room over.

 “Just like that just like that fuck Mark! Mark! Mark! fuck yes like yes like that like that right there.” Your words jumbled together as he began fucking you a little harder. 

Your praise and broken sentence made Mark feel like he was going crazy. Letting out a mixture between a croak and a whine he pushed your legs back and placed his hand over your mouth, knowing that if he didn’t Donghyuck would catch you before you could finish. 

“You feel so fucking so so so fucking good you’re so so so so pretty so fucking pretty, such a pretty pussy, is it mine? Hm? Is this pretty pussy all mine?” 

You cried out into the palm of his hand and threw your head back, shaking your head as you shouted yes into his hand. Chanting that it was his as he muffled your screams. 

“I knoooww, I know baby, it’s so good? Huh? It’s good? Just nod your head for me, just nod that pretty head for me baby.” 

Mark slowed just, allowing you to savor every stroke. 

“M’gonna uncover your mouth…b-but…you gotta stay quiet, ‘Kay? Just for a second, you can do that…r-right? You’re a good girl, such a good girl…you can stay quiet for me, right?” 

You shake your head, looking up at him with your eyebrows knotted. Mark chuckled and stopped completely. His dick throbs and his body jerks, feeling increasingly horny as he kissed you. 

“Donghyuck is gonna catch us.” He said breathlessly, you tried to regulate your breathing—responding in slurred words: “Let him.” Mark grinned and kissed your forehead, as he leaned back on his legs and ran his hand through his sweaty hair he shook his head at you. 

“You’re so cute like this, be as loud as you want then. Don’t worry about anything but feeling good for me, okay? All you have to do is enjoy yourself.” You nodded your head and weakly smiled at him. 

Mark gave you just one more second before starting again, this time instead of starting off slow, he started off with quick and sharp thrusts. Slamming his hips into yours harshly. You couldn’t even make a sound, one small yelp of pleasure forcing its way out of your throat before you went silent once again. 

Melting into the couch as your toes curled and your eyes rolled back. 

“Ooouuu, there it is…like that baby?” You couldn’t even nod your head, laying there helplessly as Mark fucked your every thought away. 

“I know…I know…” You let out a quiet sob, trying your hardest to find something to grab onto. “Shit…I’m so close…” 

As Mark’s stomach tightened he reached down and began rubbing your clit. Trying his hardest to make you finish before he did. 

“Ma-Mark!” You gasped for air and dropped your legs, reaching down to grab his hand. You tried to beg, pleading with him to slow down as an intense feeling washed over you. Your whole body tensed up and your eyes closed tightly. 

You felt like you were going to explode. 

Mark could feel your walls tighten around him, clamping down on him uncontrollably. He tried to hold back, his fingers moving messily as he began panting. Moaning loudly as he let out strings of curses. 

“F-Fuck fuck fuck…” Feeling the pressure in his stomach build he considered pulling out early, but the risk was so worth the feeling of you finishing around him. 

“I-I…I- oh my god!” You lightly hit his chest as you came for the second time. 

“S-Shit…” Hurriedly Mark pulled out and began stroking his cock, his face twisted with pleasure as he pleased himself above your body. 

“So pretty s’pretty fuck…” He whined. Mark held his breath, tensing up as his cum spurted out onto your stomach. The thick, white and slightly creamy substance dripping down your sides, pooling on your sweaty skin. 

Mark sat back and you laid there, both of you take a second to collect yourselves. Just looking at each other before laughing. 

“Uhm, I guess my memory is refreshed now.” You rolled your eyes playfully and laughed at Mark’s corny joke. “Sorry, let me get you a towe-oh!” He paused as you swiped your finger through his cum and licked it up. 

“Let’s get cleaned up before Hyuck catches us.” 

[sirxlla]

Non-Emergencies

----------------------------------------------------

Warnings: Fluff, use of Y/N

Prompt: Your Grandma calls 911 to flirt with the firefighters

Notes: Female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

Your grandma needed a little extra help around the house after her hip replacement so you, your mother and father were taking care of her. Currently you were on Grandma duty for the next six hours.

"You should see the firefighters at the station near here, they are just the cutest and the one with the little mark above his eyebrow? Oh, you'd really like him."

You left her alone for five minutes while you got the Uber Eats order and she had already made the call to 911. She put the phone down like she hadn't just commited a crime so of course you expected that maybe she'd called a friend or answered the phone or something, something really benign.

"LAFD, Ma'am are you alright." The 118 had seen your grandmother before, she was a 'frequent flyer' is what they called her. She did often call when she was lonely or couldn't understand how to turn on the tv but she secretly wanted company or to oogle the men.

"Grandma, Why's the fire department here?" You asked with shock and a tad bit of annoyance.

"Is that who I called?" She acted innocent and again like it isnt a crime to call the fire department for nothing.

"That is who you called, Ms. Dotty." Eddie spoke to her and did a check to make sure she's fine cause he has to.

"She's fi-" You started but your grandma interrupted.

"My hearts a little fast but maybe thats just cause of you." The seventy year old flirted with the brunette man.

"Well, arent you a charming showstopper as always, Ms. Dotty." Eddie replied back.

"She doesnt even need anythin-" You start to tell the other man before looking up at him, he had the mark near his eyebrow like she said and god was he beautiful, a killer smile, his hair a bit curly and his eyes were like seas of endles-

"Yeah, we kinda figured but we don't mind checkin up on her." Buck interrupts your thoughts with and you felt weak in your knees as soon as his smile widened.

"Evan Buckley but you can call me Buck if you like, everyone else does." He reached out his hand.

Naturally, due to Buck being insanely charming you were already blushing which caused your grandma to wink at you when Eddie wasn't looking.

"You okay? You seem a little flushed." He retracted his hand and asked you with concern.

"No, I'm good I promise." Trying to hide the blush on your cheeks or the smile of embarrassment that was quickly fighting it's way to your face.

"I heard you boys needed volunteers for the Christmas thing you guys are putting on for the kiddos. I'm sure my granddaughter would love to help out." Your grandma kept trying to play wing-woman for you.

"Well we really do need another woman to help us out and I think she'd be perfect. Can I get your number and I'll just text you the details." Buck said in a slightly flirty tone.

"I wouldnt wanna be a both-"

"Her number is 424-555-7652. Her names Y/N but most people call her Ducky." Your grandma wrote it down and handed it to Evan.

"Awe, Buck and Duck." Eddie starts before their pagers went off with an actual call that wasnt a grandma wanting to flirt with firefighters.

"Well it was lovely to see you, Ms. Dotty!" Eddie packs up the med kit and gets ready to get out of there.

"I'll give you a call, Ducky." Buck says with a blush as he bolts out of there after Eddie.

"I don't know if I should be mad at you or not, Grandma." Still trying to hife the blush or how your eyes had memorized every part of Buck's face.

"I told you he was cute, they both are. If I was younger, I bet the brunette would go for me." Your grandma said with a smirk and a rather large amount of confidence.

"Yeah, I'm sure he would." You laugh a bit, she's always been a little bit of a minx and it was clear that she wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

-> Masterlist <-

[siri-ike]

Summer of change

Chapter 5

First prev

For some reason, Steph had insisted on leaving the morgue in a hurry. Not fear, though! She’d specified that.

Danny wouldn't have minded staying. Last time he’d gone with a strange girl to a scary basement, he’d died. So this was certainly an improvement.

"Next we should go to Amusement Mile" Steph suggested.

"Amusement Mile? That's, what,” he joked, “A street full of amusement parks?"

"Yep!" She grinned wickedly. "And they're abandoned."

This girl wants to die.

That's it, that has to be why she's like this, just like Sam, except this girl doesn’t have ghost hunting equipment or a superhero ghost friend. Well, that she knows of.

Danny narrowed his eyes. "Do you have a death wish or something?"

"Some say that every inch of it is haunted," she regaled, completely ignoring his accusation question. "Others say that villains rent it to use as headquarters. But I say that there's no reason both can't be true." There was a sparkle in her eye.

Oh, so she does wanna die, good to know. A wiser man would stay away from her, but not Danny Fenton. The guy who once snuck into a creepy hospital that he knew was haunted. Just because his whole school was "infected" with "ghost."

"You never did tell me what you were in for." he questioned.

All Steph did was giggle as she skipped out the door.

OK. That wasn't at all suspicious. With his luck, she's probably an arsonist or a fan of comics.

She was just as cryptic leading him away from the station, down the streets, and through dark alleys. Before long, he had no idea where they were or how to get back.

Why does he keep letting strangers take him to second locations?

Only when he looked thoroughly lost did she start talking.

She swung around and held out her hand, "Stephanie Brown." Emphasizing her last name.

"Danny Pha-aan-ton." He placed his hand in hers. Smooth as sandpaper.

"Faaaan-ton?" She repeated skeptically.

"Fenton." His voice cracked. If he ever managed to actually die, it might just be from embarrassment.

Then, in the distance, he hears faint music.

_______

Either this kid's an idiot, or that was a fake name. Context so far isn't helping.

Steph perks her ears up at the sound of a carousel. "We're almost there." She grins. And the boy immediately looks... excited? Wasn't he against this just a moment ago?

The entrance to the first amusement park was worn down, wooden boards producing a loud creeek with every step. Even daylight couldn't make this place look welcoming. Her parents would hate it.

"Let's check out the haunted castle." Danny suggested.

"Oh? Wanna pull another prank, do you?" She paused. "How'd you do that anyway? You couldn't have been there before, I watched you stare at the filing cabinets for 15 uninterrupted minutes."

_______

Yeah, there's no explaining that. "A prank? No, that was just ghosts. Morgues are full of them, you know," he joked, "And if you want to see more of them, the haunted house would be your best bet." He tried to act cool, which was almost impressive, knowing just how much uncoolness she had so far witnessed from him.

"Would it now? And what makes you the expert?" She teased, already walking towards the shoddy wooden firehazard castle.

Her piercing eyes prying for information. Danny, the sly fox that he is, confessed everything. From his parents being ghost hunters to the age at which he stopped wetting the bed (she didn't ask), he even told her about that time he had a mullet. Somehow, he did keep his powers to himself.

By the time he finally stopped confessing, they had already gotten to the highest part of the castle... and Steph was nowhere to be seen.

Sunlight lit up most of the room through the gaps in the ceiling. Every footstep was accompanied by a subtle creak of the floorboards. She's obviously planning to jump out and scare him, so would it kill her to sneak? He stares intently, knowing exactly where she is.

Would it be nicer to pretend to be scared? Sure. But Jazz always said “Niceness is performative, Danny!” So a fake scare wouldn't be fair.

"Steph?" He calls towards the slightly more shaded hallway, which so happened to be the only exit. "If you're trying to scare me, might I recommend the hall of mirrors," he teases, "Or whatever that building with the giant clown on it was?"

Suddenly, something landed on the floor behind him. On instinct, he turned and shot a blast of ectoplasm at the noise.

"I knew it!" She squeaked from the doorway behind him.

"Wha-?"

"You're a meta, aren't you!?"

Looking closer at the pile of ash on the floor, it looked like it used to be a backpack. His backpack.

"Is that my bag?" He asked, annoyed.

"Don't worry! I took your stuff out, and replaced it with junk I found in here. Didn't think you'd destroy it, though." She said as though it were the most normal thing in the world. "What was that? Some sort of laser? How far can you shoot it? And how big? What's it made of?" She started rambling. “You know, I suspected something was up when your eyes glowed back at the station, but when you gave me a fake name, it was clear you were hiding something. Do you know any other meta humans? She paused, but not long enough for him to answer. “Obviously I don't think all metas know each other or anything, but you must have sought out someone who could relate, right?”

_______

Thank you to @bespoke-nautilus for proofing

@ladyredmoon13 @ryuukthehatter @sonrium @niamcarlin @sunnysolaria @tiffanyhart13 @tkiesai @not-your-average-url @lurukifennecfox @atomicsheepscientist @glowstickia @superbpastanickelzonk @persephonedevoted @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @howtogetblinded101 @ultra-stormsaga @piece-of-pierce @random-fandom-place

What part of an amusement park should they get ambushed at go to next?

It can be anything from any amusement park.

[glossykissies]

no one can tell me scott's solution to an attitude problem isn't an orgasm!!! worst mood ever and he's already backing you against wtv surface and lulling you into it with his voice - 🍓

okay but this with babydaddy!scott.

your one free day, and you’ve had one million things to do — most of them going wrong in some way, costing you money or just plain stressing you out. it’s times like this you dwell on not being in a relationship with scott, living together. yes he works alot, but he’d still be able to help you out — and at this point you would have taken anything. oh well, you’d made that choice.

evening falls, and speak of the devil — the door bell is ringing.

scott stands alone at the door, looking casual if not tired himself — and revved up from the day, you don’t even give him a chance to speak.

“wheres the baby? scott where is my baby— i told you not to leave her in the car so she better not be—” you go to shove past him, body on high alert and he effortlessly grabs you by the shoulders, rolling his eyes as he walks you back inside.

“shes with my mom, remember? i mean i did literally tell you.” he’s sassy with his response, letting go of you to close the door behind him with his foot and rubbing a stressed hand over his face. you relax instantly — despite everything, scott’s mother was good. you could tell she’d been waiting for a baby to come around, a toss up between scott and his younger siblings all similar in age. she was alot gentler in nature — it was his father that scott was more alike. strict, business-minded, sarcastic.

“right…” you sigh, wiping your hands down your clothes. “so what do you want? why are you here?” it comes out snappier than intended yet again, and scott blinks. it wasn’t often he was thrown off guard, usually able to take whatever attitude you throw at him and double it — but this wasn’t like you. you were soft, sweet, polite. he takes the moment to eye you, stress in your body language, shoulders tense, clothes and hair a little disheveled. you were still beautiful, but you didn’t look like you were doing too good.

“asked me last week to fix that bathroom cabinet. i’m here now. ring any bells?” he shakes his head and you fiddle with your fingers, breathing all heavy. you didn’t even look like you heard what he just said, just blinking as he watches the cogs in your brain turn, mind in a million places.

“uh…” you’re distracted, trying to shake yourself out of it and he sighs.

“are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or do i have to pull it out of you?” he deadpans and you swallow, resolve crumbling a little as your posture shrinks.

“i’m fine. just tired. baby was up all n—”

“you’re stressed. you keep clenching up your fists, your jaws all tight, could probably crack a walnut between your ass cheeks right now. why didn’t you ask me to help?” he folds his arms, accusatory — brows raised and expectant. your fists only clench tighter and your knee wobbles like you want to stomp your foot petulantly.

“i don’t need it.” your voice cracks a little.

“you need a break.” he tells you off, louder than you, sternly and you pout, eyes on his shoes. “when was the last time you touched yourself?” his voice quietened once more, and he asks like it was a regular question — like he was asking when the last time you ate was.

“wh— scott?”

“tell me.”

“i dont — when i was pregnant? maybe? i don’t see how that’s —”

scott sets his bag down, before walking at you, gently backing you up until your ass hits the little table that held the lamp beside the couch. “so too long?” he shrugs, mouth turned downwards as he starts to work at tugging up the sundress you just tugged on this morning.

“scott!” you whine, and you try to sound defiant — but it’s the whinyness in your tone that tells him everything. that lilting, high pitched mewl that he missed hearing — telling him just how badly you needed to cum.

“dont wanna hear it. you know you could have just called. i would have fixed that attitude while the babies down for thirty.” he shakes his head, rubbing his fingers familiarly over your comfy, mesh, baby pink panties— arousal already beginning to smear through the gusset just from his stern-talking-to at the door. “yeah. there you go.” you clutch his biceps for support, table wobbling under your ass as you melt— a whimpery sigh deflating from your chest.

that big hand of his slots itself inside the material, rough finger tips working you over and pushing inside after spreading your arousal and you groan, your big, tall babydaddy practically holding all your weight without breaking a sweat as he presses his lips together in concentration, trying to find that spot. “mmph— scotty!” it slips out, the affectionate rendition of his name you’d always call him when you were together. his heart skips a little and cock chubs against his thigh.

“feeling better already, aren’t you? atta girl.”

[justwinginglife]

A Trial of Tears and Tails

Sorry this is so random, I came up with this idea and wrote it on my lunch break, haha. Just thought it was so cute and funny.

“Um. My love. Are you fully rested? Could you come here and tell me that it’s not just my lack of sleep making me see things?”

Rafayel poked his head into the bathroom with a towel in hand. “What’s wrong, honey? I got the towel, like you-” He dropped the towel, eyes practically bulging out of his head.

“Okay. So it’s not just me then.”

Giggles erupted from the bathtub beside you as your son busied himself poking soap bubbles, oblivious to the stares of his two parents and oblivious to the fact that where once there had been two little legs, there now emerged a tail. A mermaid tail.

Your breath hitched in your throat. “I mean, it’s cute. It’s super cute. But does he… I mean, did he do it on purpose? Does he even know he did it? Does he know how to control it? Or is he going to keep randomly transforming for the rest of his life? What if he doesn’t know how to change it back? Will he ever walk again?” You started spiraling.

Rafayel rushed to your side, kneeling down beside you at the foot of the tub and pulling you into his arms. “Hey, hey, don’t think too hard; you’ll give yourself a headache. Look at him- he’s fine. He’s happy. I say we just let it play out and see what happens, kay? It’ll be fine.” He repeated again, nuzzling his nose against your ear before leaning up to press a reassuring kiss to your temple.

But soon enough, it was very much not fine.

At first, you both just watched your son. You watched as he splashed around in pure bliss, you watched as his smile spilled across his face and tugged at his rosy cheeks, you watched as he squealed his delight. And you thought to yourself that he’d never been cuter than he was right now. You couldn’t help but pepper him with kisses and he couldn’t help but laugh. Rafayel gazed fondly at the warm sight before him and, wanting to join in on the fun, he soon began tickling your son’s sides.

That was when the trouble started.

In attempts to escape Rafayel’s tickles, your son soon began splashing and squirming, and it was then that he realized he couldn’t just up and run. It was then that he realized that he was now stranded in the tub, bound by his flopping tail. And he didn’t know why the hell he had a tail.

He started crying, screaming, wailing- all manner of devastation and despair arose within him. And it damn near broke Rafayel’s heart.

He immediately moved into a protective stance, trying to console the tearful toddler. He made silly faces, he ruffled his hair, he picked him up and cradled him, rocking him in his arms, whispering that everything would be okay. He pressed kiss upon kiss to his head, like it was a precious ritual, like all would be well once he’d bestowed enough of his love. But it was to no avail.

Rafayel turned to you in desperation; “Help me,” clear in his eyes.

“What am I supposed to do??” You mouthed back to him, taking the crying child from him.

He threw his arms up in frustration, “I dunno- sing him a song, do something, do anything!”

You cleared your throat awkwardly, rocking him back and forth, as you began to sing the first song that came to your mind. “Um… I wanna be… where the people are. I wanna see… wanna see them dancing.”

Rafayel raised a brow at you. “Part of your world? Really? That was the best you could come up with?”

“You said to sing him a song! I thought it kinda… fit the situation?”

Rafayel snorted. “I see it’s going to be up to me to fix this. Alright, give him here; lemme try again.”

After taking him back from you, Rafayel marched his way into the kitchen. You followed behind, curious as to what his next plan of action was.

“Maybe the little guy is just hangry. Some food will cheer him up.” Rafayel started to warm up his steak dinner from last night.

“Raf! He barely has teeth, how is he gonna chew the steak?” You exclaimed.

“Well… maybe I’m hangry too! Maybe the food was for me.” Rafayel grumbled, anxiously chomping on his steak before spoonfeeding some of his mashed potatoes to the kid. Fortunately, it seemed to soothe him for the time being, but the issue of his tail was still to be addressed. How were you going to get him to turn back? You were sure once he finished munching on mashed potatoes that he would remember the tail and then be back to bawling and blubbering in no time at all. And if he cried, Rafayel might just cry. And you couldn’t have that.

So you disappeared into the nursery and came back with his favorite toys, his favorite books, his favorite movies. You spent the next two hours entertaining him, reenacting epic fight scenes between his toy robot and his toy dinosaur, reading to him all manner of fantasy and fiction, and snuggling up beside him as the TV played his favorite movies. He was more doted on than he’d ever been in his single year of living. And he loved it. But he still had the damn tail.

Rafayel suggested yoga and that was when he learned that children were not very flexible. Then he suggested meditation and that was when he learned that children do not sit still long enough for it. He finally settled on teaching the kid to use the tail, and that was when he learned that the age of one was far too young for someone to learn how to swim. The kid retained absolutely none of the information Rafayel so enthusiastically provided.

You knew this was a very serious moment, but it was hard not to laugh when you heard Rafayel’s voice echoing in the bathroom, emphatically declaring, “Now, kick! That’s not a kick, kick! Like this! No, like this! That’s a… that’s something. That’s… getting closer. Nope, never mind, it’s not. Yeah, okay, this is not working.”

Eventually, Rafayel passed out on the couch with the child dozing off in his arms. Your poor husband had exhausted nearly every brain cell in existence trying to solve this issue (so his nap was much deserved), but now, as you watched the two of them fondly, you noticed that peeking out from beneath the blanket, two tiny feet had finally appeared.

You laughed so hard that you almost woke them up when you realized what had happened; he had exhausted the kid back into being a human.

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @tbaluver @minasfwoopyponytail @ouiouimochi @inkytypewriter

[judesmoonbeauty]

2025 Mystery Bag: Team Two "Lowlife Bastards & Troublesome Fox" - Jude, Nica, Alfons & Harrison Story Set

CW: While not depicted, the story does mention groping.

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

Committee Member: We now shall begin the qualifying round for Group Two.

Literally translates as “Steering Committee Member” - I opted to shorten it.

Committee Member: Whomever reaches the finish line first will be named as the 2025 Happy Boy!

Committee Member: Get ready and your positions……Ready, Set, GO!

Harrison: Uh, why’re you all stopping so suddenly when we just got started?

Alfons: The gallery is no longer in sight, so I thought it was a suitable time to stop, and the abandon this fair and square pretense.

Harrison: Huh?

Harrison: I take it that Al’s not the only one. You guys are probably hatching some kind of clever scheme too, right?

Jude: Can ya not go ‘round accusin’ me when ya ain’t got all the facts? It’s down right cruel treatin’ people like villains.

Nica: Yeah, same. There’s no way I’d ever commit a crime in broad daylight.

Harrison: It’s so obvious you guys are all lyin’ through your teeth. I don’t even need my ability to see that.

Harrison: I could just snitch and have the committee members withdraw you guys?

Alfons: Oh my, how frightening. I’ll come clean, so please do keep quiet.

Alfons: Were you aware that there’s a water station site just a short distance from here?

Alfons: I’ve simply tampered with the drinks a bit there.

Alfons: A rapid acting sleeping draught.

Harrison: You’re the worst.

Jude: That’s somethin’ a walkin’ offense to public order ‘n morals would do.

Alfons: And what have you been up to?

Jude: Nothin’ much, just bought off one of the board members on the committee. He’ll just fudge the information later on ‘n get me through the preliminaries.

Jude: There’ll be people comin’ ‘n goin,’ so it’s an easy cover up.

Harrison: You’re the worst.

Nica: As expected of the president, you’ve gotta dirty way of doing things. I could never copy you since I’ve had a good upbringing.

Harrison: Yeah, so what plan did you cook up?

Nica: Don’t lump me in with the mirror man and president over there.

Nica: I only used my brilliant mind and investigative skills…..Hey, did ya know?

Nica: There’s a sewage system running underneath the course, and it leads right to the finish line.

Nica: I’ll wait underground, bide my time…..and then nab first place.

Jude & Alfons: Whadda outrageous bastard. What an outrageous bastard.

Nica: I don’t want you bastards calling me that.

Harrison: Gotta be kidding me, are they all just scumbags.

Harrison: Well, what wishes do you guys want granted to go so far for it?

Alfons: Why naturally, to use Her Majesty’s authority to do this and that.

Harrison: I’m an idiot for even asking you.

Harrison: And you, Jude?

Jude: Anythin’ goes. There’s lots o’ thin’s I wanna take down with that queenie’s power.

Jude: Bet yer bad nature’s gotta terrible request too.

Nica: Nope. I’m just trying to make money, which I love.

Nica: I could have all the money I want, right?

Harrison: If you mean what you say, then I’ll leave it at that.

Nica: ….You can tell when someone’s lying, right? Your ability’s pretty pesky, Harrison Gray.

Harrison: They said using our abilities are prohibited now. I was just reading your mind.

Nica: You’re the only one who can tell if you’re using your ability or not, so hiding it’s easy. As expected of the one with the lying fox curse.

Harrison: Thanks for saying so.

Nica: — Anyway, what should we do now?

Alfons: What do you mean?

Nica: I mean, now that we’ve exposed each others intentions, I don’t think this’ll end smoothly.

Nica: Well, it’s fine. I don’t mind crushing you all here. I won’t go easy on you scumbags.

Jude: Heh, yeah. Last man to survive’s the winner. Plain ‘n simple.

Alfons: I’m not particularly fond of dangerous things, but you can't make an omelet without breaking eggs.

Harrison: Oi, you guys -

Screaming Woman: AHHH!

Harrison: That voice just now….

Screaming Woman: Someone! Molester, it’s a molester!

Nica: A molester?

Nica: Guess there’s some idiots in the world who can’t satisfy their desires without taking advantage of an event like this.

Nica: I just don’t get it. Well, it’s a large enough crowd, they’ll be arrested quickly.

Alfons: I should think that an imbecilic molester would be caught immediately —

Alfons: Wasn’t the direction the molester fled to, the same location Kate was going to cheer?

Harrison: ….I’m heading there. I’m worried about that girl.

Harrison: You guys do whatever you want.

Jude: Tch, it’ll be more revoltin’ ignorin it ‘n gettin’ yelled at.

Alfons: Ahaha! Those men who weren’t even in a hurry are now dashing as fast as they can.

Alfons: And what of you, Nica?

Nica: Should I tag along? I’ve got free time just standing here anyway.

Male Assaulter: Shit….Why are you chasing me? Gah!

The side chara is literally translated as "Molester/Groper Male." However, I opted to change this to assaulter because I don’t really like either of the other words, and I felt it was over utilized in context in general.

Harrison: Okay, got him.

Jude: Hold onto that piece ‘o shit perverted predator.

Harrison: That goes without saying.

Harrison: Oh, Al and Nica came too.

Nica: Oh, so this guy’s the groper? Ahaha, it looks like he would have trouble with women.

Alfons: It’s nonsense to criticize someone’s appearance. Even so, he does appear to be frustrated though.

Male Assaulter: I didn’t do it! My hand simply touched her bum by accident!

Males Assaulter: Besides! It would be frustrating to make a fuss out of it.

Alfons: An accident, you say?

Alfons: While en route here, I queried others for information.

Alfons: As I’ve heard so far, six women have complained that you touched them.

Alfons: How coincidental.

Alfons: Do you have magnets embedded within your hands that are drawn to women’s bottoms?

Nica: And we happen to have a lie detector here.

Nica: So, what do ya think?

Harrison: Without a doubt, everything you just spewed is a lie.

Harrison: Well, that’s just my “hunch” though.

Male Assaulter: ……

Male Assaulter: D-damn it! Yeah, that’s right. I did it!

Nica: Yeah yeah, I really can’t stand hearing that bastard’s rotten voice.

Alfons: So then, since he’s openly confessed, what punishment should be dispensed?

Alfons: Ah, but our abilities are currently prohibited. Well then, Jude.

Jude: I’ll kick yer dirty arse, as many times ya been feelin’ 'em up, idiot.

Male Assaulter: GAHH!

Nica: Yikes. I just heard a loud sound, wasn’t it his hip breaking?

Alfons: My condolences. Now, what shall we do with this person who’s passed out?

Harrison: Hand him over to management and the police.

Harrison: Today we aren’t Crown or Vogel, just participants.

Jude: Dunno, but if that’s what’cha wanna do then go ahead ‘n do it.

Unidentified Scream: ARGH!

Harrison: Another scream…?

Alfons: Now what?

Kate: Oh, everyone!

Kate: We have a huge problem! All of the participants who drank water at the water station have fallen asleep!

Alfons: Really?

Kate: And then the committee board members started revealing that they’d been threatened and bribed —

Jude: Hmm.

Kate: On top of that, it was discovered that someone was trying to use the sewage system as a path unfairly!

Nica: Oh, wow.

Kate: Who the hell could the culprit be? He’s such a lowlife that I’ll never forgive him.

Harrison: Tell us more, Kate.

Kate: What?

[Story Set Master List]

Tags List: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul @drachonia

If you're 18+ and wish to be added to my tags list, please comment below. If you wish to be removed, please do the same!

[pupkashi]

a/n: kakashi word vomit i wanna make out w him

masterlist

kakashi is so attractive & he never believes it until you show him how much you’re attracted to him. when you first see him you’re doing a double take bc no one said the famous copy ninja was such a stunner ???

it takes a lot of courage and teasing from asuma and kurenai before you even think about talking to the silver haired shinobi. at first kakashi thinks you’re nervous because you’re scared of him, so he assures you he wouldn’t hurt you.

“you don’t have to be so nervous y’know, i don’t bite” he smiles, eye crinkling and it makes you flush.

“I’ve just never tried flirting with someone as attractive as you” you blurt out, cursing kurenai for encouraging the three shots you took before walking over to kakashi.

kakashi is shocked, his only visible eye now wide and mouth in the shape of an ‘o’ (even if you can’t see it). he doesn’t say anything, wondering how you could find someone as average as him attractive.

nevertheless kakashi doesn’t make you feel awkward, continuing the conversation. the two of you click perfectly, laughing softly and getting to know each other. kakashi is quick to ask you when he’d see you again, thankful his mask is hiding his profuse blushing.

four months later the two of you as sitting on his couch, the movie was mere background noise as you looked at your boyfriend, something akin to a magnetic force pulling your lips towards his exposed neck. you press feathery kisses all over it, kakashi sighs softly.

“thought you wanted to watch this movie?” he chuckles, moving his neck so you can kiss him with more ease. his words are airy, and you know he’s not complaining nor does he want you to stop.

“you’re too hot to not make out with” you breathe out between kisses, planting some along his jawline before finally landing on his lips.

kakashi is quick to move you, grabbing you by the hips and placing you on his lap. he’s never been one to deny your affection, and he wasn’t gonna start today.

he thinks maybe you’re just feeling clingy today, he’s been gone on a mission for a week or so anyway. that must be all it is. kakashi chalks it up to you missing him after missions for months, no matter how many times you tell him you just think he’s so fucking hot.

it’s not until a little over a two years into your relationship that kakashi lies awake in bed, realizing you’d never once stopped showering him with your affection and compliments. he’d figured once the honeymoon phase was over the rose tinted glasses you had on must’ve come off, but it seemed like they never did.

every day you still greeted him with a sweet smile and a flurry of kisses, “how was your day handsome?” or “hi pretty boy, how’d it go?” or any variation which included complimenting him.

kakashi lets his mind wander, grateful that you were as in love with him as he was you. you stirred in your sleep, flipping and curling into your lovers side unconsciously. it made his heart stutter as he closed his eyes, letting your warmth and steady breathing lull him to sleep.

kakashi comes home the next day with his vest already off, navy undershirt untucked and hair flopping naturally over his forehead.

“how was work toda-” you feel the words stuck in your throat as you drink in the look of your boyfriend. he usually gets home in uniform and immediately goes to the shower and you see him freshened up and changed. it’s a rare, breathtaking sight to see him as disheveled as he in right now.

“what? do i still have blood on my face?” he haphazardly wipes at his face with the back of his hand. you shake your head at him, not trusting your voice as you clear your throat and lean in to kiss his cheek. “what’s got you so flustered, pretty?” his deep honey voice has your cheeks burning as you stare at him.

“you look good” you admit, a small smile on your lips, not trying to hide how badly you wanted to jump his bones in that moment.

“hmm, do i? ‘m all sweaty” kakashi mumbles, letting a cocky grin play on his lips as he bends over slightly to allow his lips to hover over yours, “missed me that much baby? you made me late this morning” he smiles as your crash your lips into his, not able to hold yourself back when he was only mere inches away from you.

“not my fault you’re so fucking attractive” you say between kissing him, squealing softly when kakashi pulls you into him by your waist.

it’s in every kiss your place to his skin, ever gentle and needy touch, breathing your love into him as you hold him impossibly close. every action and gesture of yours is enough to reassure him as you shoo him off to shower while you finish dinner. kakashi lets the hot water hit his flushed skin with a happy sigh, forever grateful he paid for asuma’s lunch for a month in exchange for him to play cupid.

[husbandhoshi]

all these asks are so cute omg wait i just saw this !! if you're still doing them i'd love to hear about jun please :3

mdni underneath the cut!

it's nights like these where you're thankful soundproof walls exist. ("soundproof", heavy on the air quotes. you're 90% sure the hotel concierge mentioned something like that when junhui had checked in. the other 10% of your poor brain was figuring out how to deal with the vibrator in your cunt.)

the silk sheets of the bed feel endless, cool like water against your skin. you lie on your back, feeling the bite of your fingernails in your thighs as you hold them open. between them, junhui's kneeling figure.

earlier, your fiancé had given you your first birthday gift of the day. double holiday, he had called it. double the gifts. naively, you had thought it was makeup, maybe a new perfume. instead, you had undone the big bow, unwrapped the sparkly paper, and found, instead, the vibrator. quickly, you had felt all the blood rush to your cheeks, then, downstairs. even more quickly, junhui had you bent over his knee, watching you take every inch of your new gift. (the second gift: the most beautiful necklace you had ever seen. the price, even more outrageous.)

"c-can't," you breathe. your voice crawls its way from your chest, curls in your throat. "wanna cum...feels too good."

he responds with a cruel tilt of his head, a smile playing on his lips. "you're almost there, darling. show me how good you are."

delirious, you nod. almost there, you repeat, your mind treading over those two words despite the pleasure. you had already endured a phone call with your best friend (in which junhui had decided to try out all the intensity settings on his phone) and your birthday dinner (in which you wore a dress with no panties, and he couldn't seem to get his hands off your thighs). you could do this, a few minutes more.

through your frosted vision, you watch junhui palm himself over his jeans, rough, desperate. without thinking, you whimper, feeling yourself tighten around the toy. compared to feeling him, this was nothing. this didn't hug your sweet spot, didn't fill you til you couldn't breathe, didn't rock against your clit just how you needed, not like junhui did.

fuck. now you're thinking about junhui fucking you, which is not helping your situation. if you're lucky, he'd do it tonight, with your ankles over his shoulders.

"you're soaked," he murmurs, voice quiet, reverent. he parts your legs a touch wider, his touch searing into you, so that you are fully on display. "so cute."

like this, you can feel everything, the cold air of the room you're in, the way his gaze seems to haunt your skin. a few gasping breaths, oh, even just a breath too deep would send you over, but you're determined to be good, no, better than good. you squeeze your eyes shut, letting your lips fall open in another noise somewhere between a moan and a pathetic hiccup--no longer can you tell the difference.

it's then that junhui sees this gasping window of opportunity and places two long fingers in your mouth, right against your tongue, and watches as you gag. "you know what to do, pretty girl," he tells you, and you do. like a dog, you suck, dreaming about him doing the same with his cock. traitorously, your hips rock up at the mere thought, oh, all the pressure in your belly might just make you explode.

but junhui is never cruel, never unloving to his favorite girl, the only one he's loved like this. so with these fingers, covered in your desperation, he trails them down your trembling neck, the curve of your tits, swollen from his mouth, over your stomach, and presses them to your puffy clit.

no words come to you, instead just a cry, shuddering, one that rips through your body. a white-hot feeling erupts inside you, one like fireworks, and you cum around the vibrator, again and again and again, as junhui works you with two fingers alone.

you're gone, somewhere unspeakable, too high to tell him again, again, i want more. luckily, he's always been able to read your mind. a long gasp, a reaching hand, a hot mouth over yours; before you know it, the vibrator is god knows where, replaced by junhui's cock, heavy on your abdomen.

"ready for round two?"

[revelboo]

laying my coveted collection of three (3) muppet dvds down at your feet/general offering table. my soul for some bluestreak, if you wanna. if not then enjoy the muppets- but! i never knew they did cover songs for stuff like "got my mind set on you" by george harrison and kokomo until recently!! or that bluestreak brought "the muppets take manhattan" with him onto the lost light!! idk i really like the mental image of this giant sci-fi robot next to kermit the frog, not doing anything in specific or whatever, just... vibing. if some cybertronians think humans are like weird protoforms, i cant help but wonder what they think of muppets, ykwim??? either way, have a happy new year!!

Blue needs some love and he’s such a goober sometimes. I can see him absently humming Rainbow Connection

Where I Belong Pt 10

Bluestreak x Reader

• Carrying you back to his quarters, he absently rubs a servo against you and warms when you hook an arm around it to hug him. “Sorry about worrying you. I didn’t want to bother Ratchet and it wasn’t really that bad. I’ve seen worse and-” Trailing off when you look up at him. Because he knows he’s rambling, but you don’t huff at him. Don’t tell him to shut up. You never do and every time you don’t his spark aches with it. With all the things he wants to say, but doesn’t dare. “Sorry.”

• When he smiles that self-depreciating smile, that sense of a lost boy lifts through you again. He’s older than you, much older, but still it’s there in the fear you see in his optics sometimes. An unsettled feeling you don’t know how to deal with, but that makes you think the smiles and chatter on the surface are all for show. That he’s still reaching for you like he had that first time, desperate and afraid. “Don’t apologize. Just take care of yourself. I like having you around.”

• Do you? No one else does and his servos flex around you as he lets himself into his quarters and sits on the side of his berth with you. Reluctant to give up your warmth. Feels bad about clinging to you like he does, but can’t make himself stop. Optics shuttering as he braces for the rejection, he mass shifts. Hears you yelp as you end up in his lap and he wraps his arms around you, chin on top of your head. “I like having you around, too.”

• Heart racing, you shudder and try to shake off that awful feeling of falling. Not even sure why you’re surprised by anything at this point when you live with a giant alien robot. Shrinking? Sure. Why not? “Warn me before you do that next time.” Or you might get sick on him. Distracted when he so gently curls his fingers around your wrist and pulls it to him. Watching him line up his palm with yours and even smaller, his hand dwarfs yours.

• “Sorry.” You’ve always been so small and fragile to him, but putting himself closer to your size really drives it home. Your hand so tiny in his. “I just wanted to hold you. And I can’t normally because you’re so small and you’re still small. I feel like you’re going to break,” he murmurs, embarrassed. You’re always touching his servos, hugging them, trying to comfort him. He wanted to return it, but still can’t. Like he can’t begin to explain how much he loves you for being with him. For not abandoning him when he’d needed you. For keeping him from being so alone.

• “I’m not made of glass.” Shifting more to sit across his lap, you reach back and find his other arm and pull it around you. Encouraging him to hold you like he’d wanted and you lay your head against him, seeing his door wings lift from the corner of your eye. “See?” You can hear his internal systems and the thrum of his spark as he cautiously rests his hand on your hip. “This is okay.” Breath catching as his head dips and his cheek brushes yours. That hand still curled around yours tugging so he can brush his mouth against the inside of your wrist, his optics still shuttered. That gentle touch spreading warm through you.

Previous

[empressdede]

The Lyon’s family Christmas

Summary: You lie to your mom and tell her that you have a boyfriend to bring home and begs your best friend Jon to come with you to meet your family.

Word count: 2.7k

Pairing: Jimmy x Y/N

A/N: Happy New Year and Happy Holidays; I am so so so so sorry that this is so late but I literally worked the entire holidays so this was the best day for me to release. I hope you guys enjoy!

P.S. Guess who’s officially back? 🙂💙

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

As often as this was a reoccurring issue, Y/N don’t know why she expected the conversation to take a different direction unlike the very worn out route her and her mother usually seemed to take.

“Do you remember Trent from church? I’ve heard the younger girls were saying he’s single now, and I was thinking about inviting him to our Christmas party. I think he makes for a nice boy, don’t you?" Her mom asked over the phone. And there it was, the same damn conversation causing Y/N to roll her eyes. Thank God her mother couldn’t see her.

Her mom never knew how to stay out of her business, always going out her way to try and set her up with damn near anybody because she thought it was the most terrifying fact that her daughter was single at 30 and have been for the last three years now.

But Y/N valued her peace more than anything, and all her past relationships have not always bought her peace, just heartache. So she wanted to be very cautious her next go round because she was being very serious when she told everyone she only had one more relationship in her. She just wished her mom understood that.

Y/N let out a sigh, "Mom, I haven’t seen Trent in forever. Do NOT invite that boy over for no foolishness. Plus, he’s really not my type." Y/N expressed which caused her mother her scoff.

"And since fuckin when was Trent not your type? I thought you were trying to get with a good man Y/N?" Her mother questioned.

Exactly.

Y/N let out a huff in annoyance, she knew way more than her mom and knew that Trent was definitely not the way go. But she didn’t know want her mom to think she was trying to push at the conversation so instead of being honest, Y/N does the first thing that comes to mind.

“I didn’t wanna tell you like this but Trent ain’t my type because I have a boyfriend now Ma.”

Y/N’s POV

The silence on the phone made me more nervous, why the fuck would I just say that?

“You got a boyfriend? Since when you found a boyfriend? And why haven’t you said anything about him?” The questions were leaving her mouth like quick fire, barely giving me anytime to answer her. But I did the best I could.

“I didn’t say anything because I wanted to make sure this was something worth bringing up.”

“Mmhmm, and how long you’ve been seeing this guy?” She asked

“Five months now, but we were friends before we started dating. I’ve been trying to take it slow.”

Another beat of silence took over the phone and for a second, I thought she knew I was spewing nothing but bullshit just to get her to shut up.

“Hmm, well baby you ain’t getting no younger. Tell this man I wanna meet him, invite him to the party and I’m not taking no for an answer.” She finally replied, but her response took me aback.

“Wait- mom..”

“Great! I’ll see you guys next weekend, Love you baby.” And with a quickness, she hung up in my face.

I was left amuck, staring at the phone in disbelief because what the fuck did I just do?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

In retrospect, you didn’t really have anyone to ask but him. You weren’t comfortable asking anyone else but your best friend - who has yet to meet anyone in your family, which was perfect.

Who else would’ve agreed to do this for you?

“You want me to what?” He asked, choking on the fried rice he was eating prior.

Okay, so maybe it’s going to take a little bit of convincing.

“Please Jon, you’re the only person I can ask and I feel like we’re close enough; we could definitely pull it off.” You exclaimed, a small smile on your face; trying to be as persuasive as possible.

Jon was not amused, for all he knew this was another one of your tired ass pranks that he refused to fall for.

“So you want me to lie to your mom for Christmas?” he questioned, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Why don’t you just tell her you’re single? I’m sure it won’t be the end of the world.”

You sigh, shoulders sinking in a bit. “She wants to set me up with some guy I haven’t seen in years. You know how I get with guys Jon and she won’t stop until she sees me with someone.”

You turn to fully face him with pleading eyes. “C’mon Jon, I already told them I have a boyfriend, who else am I supposed to ask?”

Jon watched you with careful eyes, silent as if he was thinking it over. You couldn’t help but keep your gaze hopeful as you guts sat in your living room waiting for him to respond.

You knew it was a big favor to ask but you would owe him the world if he could help you get your mom off your back.

The silence that filled the room made goosebumps litter all over your skin and the anxiety that bubbled in your stomach made you want to throw up. Just when you were going to tell him to forget it, Jon cut you off.

“Fine, I’ll go. But if we do this, we need to get our story straight.”

And just like that, the planning began, and for the rest of dinner, the two of you sat and theorized on how their fake love story came into existence:

Two friends who danced around the possibility of what could be till one night Jon stepped up and asked you to dinner and you agreed and you guys have been taking it slow from that night on.

____________________________________________

Two days after that, Jon surprised Y/N with matching pajamas for this impromptu trip.

“What kind of couple would we be without matching PJs?” Jon had asked when he dropped them off.

It made Y/N more appreciative of the effort he seemed to put into it. Of course Jon would play the perfect gentleman like boyfriend, who else would’ve did this for her?

The night before they had to drive six hours to your mother‘s house, you two agreed that Jon spend the night. This instance wasn’t anything new, Jon was your best friend and he slept over before, but something within your dynamic changed.

It was as if they were falling into the role of a loving couple for each other instead of Y/N’s family.

Jon sat on the bed watching Y/N finish applying her night cream, getting ready for bed.

“Is there anyone I should expect to give me a hard time?” Jon asked and you shook your head.

“Honestly, my mom is probably going to push you to marry me.” You joked causing Jon to chuckle.

“Well, if that’s the case, you ready to be stuck with me for life babe?”

The nickname caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

“Babe?” You questioned and Jon sends you a shy smile.

“You gotta start the habit now. I can’t call you that when I get over there, what if I just randomly call you princess and you get flustered?” He slightly teased, and there was those damn butterflies again.

He was right though, they needed to fall into the role of a devoted couple because how else were they going to make everyone believe they were in love?

You playfully rolled your eyes, and respond back, “what if I call you, baby boy and you get flustered?”

At that, Jonathan laughs and shakes his head at you. “I thought you said you wanted it to be believable?”

“How is that not believable?” You questioned as you walks out of the bathroom and towards him where he sat on the bed.

You cupped Jon’s cheek and talked in a baby tone, “Who wouldn’t think you’re my baby boy?” Cooing softly in a joking manner.

Jon decided he’s had enough of your antics and stood up to tower over you. Your hand falling back to your side as you stare up at him, a small smirk slowly formed on his lips as he stared down at you.

“C’mon now, you really think anyone is going to see us and think you call me anything but Daddy?” He had lowered his tone on purpose, and just like that the playfullness was sucked out of the room.

Your breath hitched at the sound of his voice, taking note of how close you guys actually were. Why did he have to do all that?

You felt your cheeks warm up and you couldn’t be more thankful than you are now that your skin had a darker hue to it - but Jon didn’t need to see it to know that you were flustered because your silence gave it away.

His smirk grows, almost tauntingly as he stared down at you. Maybe he knew what he was doing to you or maybe he didn’t and just got a kick out of this, but you did not appreciate his little game.

“Isn’t that right princess?” Even though you knew that Jon was teasing, you couldn’t help the shiver that ran up your spine.

You squinted your eyes to glare at him, “You’re not funny Jonathan.” You hissed out but he only chuckled at you and shrugged his shoulders.

It was all fun and games until it was his turn.

Just to put the icing on the cake: Jon’s hand lifted up to cup your cheeks, “Say you love being daddy’s baby.” He cooed back causing you to smack your lips and slap his hand away.

Your nerves were still a little rattled as Jon doubled over in laughter.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny; you ready for bed or what? We got a long day ahead of us tomorrow and you’re driving.” You stated, walking past him for bed.

This is going to be the longest four days weekend ever.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The drive to your childhood home to Orlando FL, wasn’t so bad, three hours into it anyways.

When there was three more hours left to go, you became just a little restless, whining about how cramped your legs were starting to feel.

It went to show how much you really disliked long distant roadtrips.

“You don’t think you can wait another hour? We’re almost there.” Jon tried to negotiate but when he turned to face you and seen the pout on your lips, he let out a tired sigh and looked for the closest exit to stop at the nearest gas station.

You flashed him a cheeky smile, “Who knew you loved me so much?” You teased and he rolled his eyes letting you have this little moment because you guys had three more hours to kill and he’d rather you be in a good mood.

Another pro for stopping at the gas station is the opportunity to restock on snacks. After Jon filled up the tank, you both entered the gas station to look for whatever looked good enough to replenish you guys for the rest of the trip.

You both split ways to look for your favorite road trip snacks: Honey flavored chex mix, gummy worms and sunflower seeds since it was Jon’s preference.

Humming along to the Christmas song playing in the store, you went looking for Jon. Your eyes skimming through the isle looking for the tall idiot until your eyes fall on two figures: a girl laughing and holding herself up on Jon’s arm.

You raised an eyebrow at the scene, the feeling of annoyance swirled around in your stomach.

What the fuck was he doing?

You watched as the girl flash him another smile while fluttering her lashes in a flirting manner, and you couldn’t stop the scoff that left your lips. Your eyes squinted into a glare before an idea flashed in your mind.

It barely fully registered in your mind before you found yourself walking towards the two with the fakest smile on your face, “Babe did you find us some drinks?”

Jon turned to face you, a small smirk on his face cause he had watched you walk up to him.

The jealousy that burned in your eyes was very amusing and very apparent for him to see. If he didn’t know you well enough - he would’ve pushed his limit just a bit to see how far he could take it.

But knowing that they had three hours to kill before reaching Orlando, he’d rather not be in the car with an irritated Y/N, no matter how amusing it was to him.

Little did he know it was a little too late for that.

“Uh.. No, sorry babe. But we could go get it together.” He replied, and without bidding the girl goodbye, he locked arms with you to walk you towards the refrigerated section.

The girl watched with a frown on her face, as you guys walked away from her, and you couldn’t help but turn around to flash her a quick smile - almost taunting her before returning to face Jonathan, with the meanest glare, you could muster.

“I could’ve stayed in the car if you were going to be hot and fresh chasing hoes.” You gritted out once you were out of earshot.

Jon just chuckled softly, shaking his head at you while looking for your favorite drink. “She was just being nice.”

You roll your eyes again, “I’d rather you not insult my intelligence Jon.”

The frown was prominent on your face, and Jon couldn’t help the small smile that seemed almost glued to his face. You were cute he could definitely give you that.

A small chuckle emitted from him again as he walks closer to you to pull you into a hug. “You’re absolutely right princess, Daddy’s sorry.” He cooed, causing you to tense in his arms.

“Jon.” You grit out in a warning tone but he completely disregarded you. He lifted his left hand to tilt your head up to face him, and suddenly the air shifted between the two of you like it did back at your house.

“Jon.” You whispered out this time and he still chose to ignore you, his eyes flickering to your lips instead causing your breath to hitch.

“Jonathan.” You repeated, almost pleading with him and his eyes slowly traced up your face to lock eyes with you.

“You forgive me?” He rasps out; goosebumps littered all over your skin at the deepness of his voice.

“Y/N,” He muttered and you hummed to let him know you heard him. “Do. You. Forgive. Me?”

What in the world were you mad about again?

“Yeah.” You breathed out, hoping Jon with snap out of it, but he still didn’t let go of your chin.

“Good.” Was the only thing he stated before closing the gap between you guys. His lips pressed against yours and just for a second you both forget that this was supposed to be an act.

The butterflies that erupted in both of your stomach’s made the moment even more real for you guys. Your lips locked in a slow kiss, Jon’s hand slid down from your chin to grip behind your neck to keep you in place in deepen the kiss, just a little.

Your heartbeat filled your eardrums as blood rushed to your cheeks. When Jon finally pulled away, he seen how flushed you were, despite your darker skin tone.

He flashed you a small smile, “Was that okay?”

You nodded your head to assure him that it was more than okay. After the two of you finished up buying your snacks, you got in the car with childish grins and giggles slipping through your lips, both of you now in a way better mood than you were not less than 10 minutes ago.

You couldn’t help but secretly thank your mom for the invite to your family Christmas party because you don’t think you would’ve been here otherwise; and even though you’re pretty sure there is a conversation that needs to be had, maybe there was something to finally look forward to this holiday season.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Lmao this was lowkey eh, but I did my bestest😭🫶🏾 Thank you to those who like and read it!

As always please, like, comment and reblog if you feel like and lemme know how you feel.

Tagging the lovelies: @wrestlingprincess80 @whatdoeseverybodywant @blacst4r @paigereeder @alyyaanna @raya-hunter01 @mzv11 @trippinsorrows @partypoison00

(If you would like to be added to my official taglist please comment and I will add you, and if you want to be removed, please let me know🤍)

[a-lurking-fae]

《𝕿𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖚𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 - 𝕻𝖚𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖙 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗》

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔫𝔢

⚠︎ WARNING ⚠︎ : Human sacrifice, mentions of torture, implied kidnapping if you squint, break-ins, burning flesh, creeps.

"The stars that shine through the mystical sky is held in your eyes."

Treasures of gold, heaps of silver, mountains of flora, and fauna, it was anyone could have wished for— but you. It wasn't fun to have all eyes on you. The attention solely focused on your features, flaws are inspected, and cruel moments of vulnerability.

You watch as another human is killed in your name it was never yours to begin with, impostor, their screams of pain tear your ears it'll be you soon, as they beg for forgiveness and repentance. It's—

"Does this sacrifice satisfy you, Your Grace? These people were the protesters from last month. There are children too, if you wish, we can—" Horrific. How dare they! To bring the children to this is a different matter altogether.

"No. For a mortal mind such as yours, it harbours horrible ideas that even demons do not entertain. Children are innocent, and that is an ultimatum. You have directly faced my word—" you look to the crowd, eager to listen. “My children, do you think this man deserves a punishment?" Loud screams of agreement erupt from the crowd. Some onlookers even light up after hearing the man might be punished. "It seems most of you agree. Now, what sentence should we give him?”

The man pleads for forgiveness, kneeling as he approaches you, clasping his hands together, an air of desperation surrounding him. Xiao goes closer to you, making sure that the man can't harm you. If he did, well…

“My dear Morax, Geo Archon. Tell me, how do your people face punishment for the crime of harming children? Both directly and indirectly.” You look at him, his face full of delight. You called him your dear

“Corporal punishment : beating, death by boiling, chariots, and permanent mutilation like tattooing and castration. Then, they could be sent to become wall builders. Whichever you prefer Your Grace.” Morax was joyful, Her Grace was truly a kind ruler.

“You, what punishment do you want?”

The man is horrified he bashes his head on the floor, pleading. “Tick-tock, if you can't choose, then we might as well do them all. Is that right?” Cheers erupt from the crowd. The smell of burning human flesh overwhelms you.

You slowly start to get up, signalling the guard to take him away. You hated this. It was your choice to kill him.

────୨ৎ────

「 You did well, my dear. 」

‘Shut it, I don't wanna hear from you today.’ You held your expression with a smile, bottling up your anger towards the real creator.

「 Just a bit more, I promise that you'll get to that other world. Earth, was it? I don't know why you want to go there, it looks shitty. 」

‘It's a whole lot better than here.’ You finally got back to the palace. You had one in each country since they'd fight over you every time. ‘There are some perks to this, I guess.’

You plop down the bed, not bothering to take your shoes off at this point. It's exhausting, really. You dream of going back to earth. It was your home, of course.

You don't know how long you'll be able to keep the facade, Furina did a great job at that. But you weren't an actor in any way, and your mental health was already down the drain. You're not sure how you’d fare.

「 Hey, I'm sorry. 」

“For what?” You wonder why, this creator— they've always been an enigma when you met them. You think they're drunk.

「 For everything. 」

“It's fine…” You sigh out. It's no use anyway. The damage has been done. No use crying over spilt milk. You decide to take a shower, looking at the mirror. You're supposed to look like them, so why can you see your reflection—

「 Stop looking at the mirror. 」

“I know, mirrors are bad because they can always show one's true self. Basically, it's a face detector, honestly.” You rub your eyes. The bath was filled with roses, milk, and other scents. They mixed together well. You expected to have headaches because of it, but it seems like it was just your imagination.

“Haa… this is pretty relaxing, honestly. I'm alone, with snacks, relaxing~” You hum a happy tune, dancing a bit in the bathtub.

「 Uh, no your not— 」

‘WHAT?!’ You look around slowly, taking in your peripheral vision. There.

You slowly stood, grabbed the bath robe, and booked it to your room. Stopping at the door separating the room and bathroom. Before you opened the big ass door, you heard noises.

「 It's them. Hide dumbass! 」

‘I KNOW!’ You calmly panicked. Rushing to the bath again, you threw your robe to an empty pot. Thankfully, since the bath was heavily scented and mixed with milk, the water wasn't that clear. The door slowly unlocked as you submerged yourself into the tub. Forgetting one thing, your fucking asthmatic.

「 Dumb. (っ- ‸ - ς) 」

They search the room silently, looking at every nook and cranny. You forgot about Xiao— “They're not here, check the other rooms.” You hear before they start going out. “Wait— there's a bathrobe over there, they're hiding…”

You can't hold your breath anymore. You slowly get back up, the look of surprise in the trespassers appears. For them, you just appeared in the water mysteriously.

“Xiao—” He appears near you, kneeling, his head looking down at the floor. The intruders share a look of fear. Seems like they know him, they probably know they might be kinda fucked.

“Yes, Your Grace?” He slowly looks up with a blush, realizing that he was in your bathroom. “Could you deal with these intruders for me, sweetheart?” He looks to find them, standing petrified, then they run.

Oh, they're so dead. “And do it quietly. The children are in the garden with Ningguang, and I wouldn't want to worry them.” Xiao nods, summoning his spear. He knocks them all out, dragging their bodies to the guards.

He notes that he should report this to Rex Lapis. After all, how could anyone get into your chambers? Unless there were others that were involved.

You relaxed again, a towel was delivered by a maid, she looked nervous. Her uniform signified that she was from Monstadt. ‘The new maid, Anna. That's her name, right?’

「 Yes, why do you ask? 」

‘I have a gut feeling about her and not the bad type.’ She could be a key figure for your escape. ‘She'd be in danger too.’ You sigh, you take the towel from her with a smile, dismissing her.

Honestly, this is just fucking exhausting.

────୨ৎ────

You lie on your bed, slowly drifting off to sleep. It was an exhausting day, of course. Unbeknownst to you, someone— something is watching you while you sleep. It takes a physical form, lying right next to you, cradling your body.

“We'll be together soon. Don't worry, my love.”

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

ησтє : Oohh, who could that be?? ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

[freshl6ve]

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒. 𝐒 | 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐓 𝐔𝐏 & 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄²

⭑.ᐟ : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞, music blasting in my headphones as I worked on my car. The Los Angeles sun streamed in through the opened garage door, casting a warm glow over the space. I hummed along to the music, completely engrossed in my work.

I was tinkering with the engine, a sense of familiarity and comfort enveloping me. I always found solace in this space, the tools in my hands and the motor in front of me. I was so invested that I didn’t notice the sound of footsteps approaching.

I pulled back from the engine, wiping the grease from my hands onto a rag. As I looked up, my eyes widened in surprise. Standing directly in front of me was none other than Chris, hands in his pockets, a smirk on his face.

My heart skipped a beat, caught off guard by his unexpected arrival. I couldn't help the look of confusion that crossed my face.

I tugged one of the headphones off my ear, continuing to wipe the grease from my hands. I faced him, my expression a mix of curiosity and mild annoyance.

“What are you doing here?” I asked bluntly, my voice revealing a hint of my surprise.

I paused in my task of wiping down my hands, my eyes narrowing slightly. “Matter of fact,” I added, my voice now laced with skepticism, “how did you get my address?”

Chris chuckled, his smirk widening at my question.“Well, you’re my brother’s mechanic so all I had to do was ask,” he replied nonchalantly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

As Chris spoke, I couldn’t help but silently observe him. His cocky and full-of-himself demeanor immediately set off a dislike in me. Matt’s words from yesterday echoed in my mind, about how Chris could get any girl to sleep with him. Definitely a player. I scowled—I despised people who played with others’ feelings without any regard for their own desires.

I crossed my arms across my chest, the rag still in hand. I scrutinized him more closely, the skepticism growing stronger. “Did Matt send you here?” I asked bluntly, my voice somewhat hostile.

Chris chuckled, seemingly amused by my skepticism, “Relax,” he said, his tone patronizing. “Matt didn’t send me. I came here myself.”

I tossed the rag over my shoulder and walked back to the engine, my focus shifting back to my work. “If you’re here just to talk,” I stated bluntly without turning to look at him, “you should leave. I’m busy.”

Chris walked over to the workbench, pulled out the stool and took a seat. “Look,” he began, a hint of curiosity in his voice, “I just came by because I didn’t know my brother was seeing someone.”

I interrupted him, not even bothering to look up from my work. “We’re not seeing each other,” I corrected, my tone matter-of-fact. “We’re simply just friends.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He leaned back, folding his arms.

“Just friends, huh?” he repeated, skepticism evident in his voice. “You’re telling me you’re just friends with my brother and that’s all?”

Chris smirked further, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “I mean,” he began, his tone suggestive, “you fix his car. You can’t tell me there isn’t anything between you.”

He paused, a knowing look on his face. “You probably take a different payment since you didn’t take the money from him yesterday, eh?”

I paused in my work, my tongue poking the inside of my cheek. My eyes narrow, a hint of irritation seeping into my voice.

“Who do you think I am?” I retorted, my tone sharp. “Some slut who fixes your brother’s car and sleeps with him for payment? Because I can assure you, I am not.”

Chris smirked, leaning back against the workbench. “Well, that’s why I’m here,” he explained, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “I wanna know about you. I didn’t know you even existed until yesterday when I saw you in our garage.”

I rolled my eyes slightly, the skepticism still present on my face. “And you came all this way to satisfy your curiosity?” I retorted, sarcasm heavy in my voice.

Chris chuckled, a sly smile on his lips. “I just wanted to know more about this girl whose brother has kept her a secret from his brothers for three years.”

He paused, his eyes studying me intently. “You can’t blame me for being curious, can you?”

I raised an eyebrow, my defenses still up. “Curiosity is one thing,” I replied, my tone guarded. “Showing up unannounced at someone’s garage is another.”

Chris chuckled, an impish glimmer in his eyes. “If I asked Matt about you,” he began, his voice laced with mischief, “he’d tell me nothing. Sometimes I gotta get my hands dirty to know things.”

I felt a pang of irritation, my expression hardening. “So, you just decided to turn up at my garage unannounced because you couldn’t get any information from your brother?” I asked, my tone more critical than before.

Chris held up his hands in mock surrender, a charming smile still on his lips. “Hey, don’t get me wrong,” he said, his tone light. “I would’ve got information out of Matt eventually, but it would have taken a helluva lot longer.”

Chris leaned forward slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Listen,” he began, his tone softened slightly, “I just thought you were interesting, okay? I mean, a girl that works on cars—you kidding? I hardly ever see them do that. And since my brother kept you hidden there has to be something amazing about you.”

His compliment caught me off guard, but I tried not to show it. I crossed my arms across my chest, a mix of skepticism and irritation still lingering in my mind. “You don’t know anything about me,” I said defensively, “How could you know if there’s something amazing about me?”

Chris stood up, his movements fluid as he approached me. “C’mon, Y/N,” he said, his tone now dripping with a charming and persuasive tone. “You’re practically making me repeat the reason why I came here.”

I watched him approach, my stance remaining guarded. His words sparked both curiosity and skepticism within me, but I kept my composure. “You came here out of curiosity,” I stated matter-of-factly, “And apparently, my existence is intriguing because I work on cars. Your brother’s including.”

Chris chuckled, now standing directly in front of me. “Not just because you work on cars,” he explained, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Although that definitely added to it. But also because you’re a mystery. My brother’s been keeping you a secret for over three years.”

I spoke bluntly, my voice nonchalant. “Maybe he did it for the better,” I said, my gaze fixed on him. “If I were him, I wouldn’t want my friend to meet my womanizing brother.”

Chris chuckled, a charming grin spreading across his face. “Womanizer? That’s a new one,” he responded, his tone tinged with amusement. “Looks like my brother made quite the first impression of me for you.”

Chris shrugged, a roguish smirk on his face. “I wouldn’t call myself a ‘womanizer’ though,” he clarified, his tone nonchalant. “I’m just someone who wants to have some harmless fun. You know, no strings attached. It’s their fault if they’re looking for something more serious—they hurt their own feelings.”

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of irritation and judgement at his words. “You realize how ridiculous you sound right now, don’t you?” I retorted, my eyes narrowing, “They’re not at fault for their own feelings. You’re the one leading them on.”

I closed the hood of my car with a slight bang, my irritation clear. As I walked past him, I shot him a glance and muttered, “You’re a real douche.”

I made my way over to my workbench and began cleaning up my tools, focusing intently on the task at hand. “I don’t know what your intentions are or what your motives might be,” I continued, my voice firm, “but why should I trust you?”

Chris leaned against the workbench, his casual demeanor unfazed by my words. “You don’t have to trust me,” he replied, his tone still light. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t be trusted. I’m not as bad as you think I am, Y/N.”

Chris’ smirk faded slightly as he watched me move away from him, the irritation clear in my gaze. He crossed his arms as I continued tidying up my tools.

He let out a sigh, his demeanor slightly more serious now. “You don’t know anything about me.” he acknowledged, his voice measured. “And I genuinely just wanted to get to know you.”

Chris’ expression softened slightly, his demeanor remaining more serious. “Wouldn’t it be better to know someone before judging them?” he asked, his tone somewhat sincere. “You know nothing about me, and I know nothing about you. I think it’d be fair if both of us got to know each other before making any assumptions or judgments, don’t you think?”

I paused in my task, my gaze flickering up to meet his. The irritation I felt towards him was still present, but his words stirred something within me. He had a point, after all. Judging someone without knowing anything about them wasn't fair.

I set down the tool I was holding and sighed, my arms crossing over my chest. “Fine,” I conceded, “You have a point. If we're going to be talking, then you gotta answer some questions. Straight up, no bullshit answers.”

Chris chuckled, a slightly roguish smile on his lips. “Alright then,” he agreed, his tone somewhat entertained. “Fire away with your questions then. I’ll answer them truthfully.”

With a press of a button, I closed the garage door, effectively sealing us inside. I walked over to the workbench and leaned against it, facing Chris, who was now seated on the stool.

“Alright,” I began, my voice businesslike but a hint of curiosity crept through. “Question number one. Why the hell are you suddenly interested in me? And don’t give me any of that ‘you’re interesting because you work on cars’ bullshit. I can see through that from a mile away.”

Chris chuckled again, leaning back in the stool. “Alright, straight to the point,” he quipped, his tone somewhat bemused. “Fine then. To be honest, my interest in you isn’t solely because you work on cars. That’s just one part of the reason.”

He paused, his gaze meeting mine directly. “There’s something about you that stood out to me,” he continued, his voice somewhat candid. “Your attitude, your indifference, your guarded nature, that’s what caught my attention.”

He then continued. “And To be honest with you, you’re not the typical girl I’d go for,” he explained bluntly. “I’m attracted to girls who are more… girly, I suppose. But you’re different, and that caught my attention.”

He leaned closer, his eyes unwavering. “So, there’s that. Satisfied with that answer?”

I rolled my eyes at his response, his words only adding to my irritation. “So you do want me to end up in your pants just like the others?” I retorted, my tone laced with skepticism.

Chris chuckled, a mischievous smile on his lips. “I mean, if you’re down, I’m down too,” he replied, his tone still tinged with his usual charismatic charm. “But maybe we should slow it down a bit, take me out to dinner first, ma.” His words and pet name only added to my annoyance.

I gritted my teeth, my annoyance with his words and attitude palpable. “Alright, next question,” I spoke, my voice cool and brisk. “How many girls have you been with?”

Chris leaned back slightly on the stool, his expression cool and nonchalant. “A gentleman never fucks and tell, sorry.” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of mischievousness. He then shrugged his shoulders, a lazy smile on his lips.

I rolled my eyes at his response, my irritation growing. “Oh, how noble of you,” I quipped, my voice laced with sarcasm. “But you’re not much of a gentleman, are you?”

Chris shook his head slightly, a mock hurt look on his face. “Now, that’s not fair, Y/N,” he replied, his tone light and teasing. “You’re judging me, and here I thought this was a safe space.”

I let out a scoff, somewhat taken aback by his response. “A ‘safe space’?” I retorted, my tone somewhat mocking. “Please, you’ve been trying to charm me since you walked in here. If it weren’t for the questions, you probably would have tried some other bullshit.”

I continued with my questions, my gaze fixed on him. “Next question,” I began, my tone slightly cool. “When was your last relationship, and how long did it last?”

Chris chuckled, a confident look on his face. “Why?” he countered, his tone dripping with charm. “You wanna be my next? Sorry, I don’t do relationships—”

“Just answer the damn question,” I cut him off, my patience wearing thin.

His expression sobered slightly at my insistence, his playful demeanor replaced with a more serious tone. “Alright, alright,” he conceded, his voice losing its earlier charm.

“Few months ago,” he began, his gaze drifting thoughtfully. “Lasted about two or three months.”

He paused, his expression stoic. “If you’re ask how many girls I’ve been with, approximately three. All three of them were horrible,” he answered bluntly.

I raised an eyebrow at his response, somewhat taken aback by his honesty. “Only three, huh?” I commented, my voice somewhat skeptical. “And what made them so ‘horrible’?”

Chris shrugged slightly, a hint of bitterness in his expression. “Because they just were.” he replied, his voice tinged with resentment.

I continued with the questions, my expression firm. “Are you scared of relationships, since you only have one-nights only?” I asked bluntly.

Chris’ expression tensed slightly, and he avoided my gaze before responding. “I rather not get into that subject,” he admitted, his voice distant.

I noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor and decided to move past the previous question, seeing his discomfort.

“Alright, let’s move on then,” I said, my voice softening slightly. “What about family? Job?”

Chris' expression relaxed slightly as we moved on to a different topic. “I’m a triplet,” he began, his tone somewhat casual. “But I have an older brother named Justin, who is a gambler. And our Mom and Dad are back in Massachusetts. As for what I do, well, I’m a street racer. If you want to consider that a job, then sure.”

I asked him the next question, my gaze fixed on him. “If you’re from Massachusetts, then why move to California?”

Chris responded casually. “There were higher prices in street racing here,” he explained, his tone nonchalant. “California is a hot spot for street racing, so the rewards are more attractive.”

I nodded slightly, acknowledging his response. “Right, I guess that makes sense,” I admitted, my tone somewhat cool. “And how long have you been street racing then?”

Chris’ expression lit up slightly as he answered, his tone casual. “Since I was 18,” he replied, his voice laced with a hint of nostalgia. “I didn’t really know how to work a car at that time, but Matt taught me a few things, and then we both got into racing. But I am self taught when it comes to drifting.”

I interrupted, asking, “How old are you now?” He paused, a smirk playing on his lips. “Currently, I’m 21,” he revealed, his tone lighthearted.

I took a moment to observe him, noting how surprisingly young he looked for his age. My gaze lingered on his features for a moment before I noticed his remark.

“You’re staring,” Chris mused, a hint of amusement in his voice.

I paused, thinking for a moment before deciding on one final question. “Alright, last question,” I said, my tone somewhat serious. “What’s your biggest fear?”

Chris didn’t hesitate with his response, his tone candid. “Commitment,” he stated bluntly, his gaze meeting mine.

I raised an eyebrow at his answer, somewhat taken aback by the honesty in his tone. “Commitment, huh?” I repeated, my voice tinged with skepticism. “And why do you fear commitment so much?”

Chris leaned back slightly on the stool, a casual expression on his face. “Just not my thing,” he replied, his tone somewhat indifferent. “I’m not into the whole relationship scene, you know? Committing to one person and investing all that time and energy. It’s just not my style.”

Chris’ expression took on a somewhat serious note before he continued. “And trust me, I’ve tried before,” he added, his tone sincere. “But it just didn’t work out. It only led to disappointment and letdown, so I’ve just grown to avoid commitment altogether.”

I couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, amused by his response. But catching myself, I quickly covered my mouth, hiding any trace of amusement.

Chris noticed the brief chuckle, his gaze locked on me as a smirk played on his lips. “You found that funny?” he asked, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

I shook my head, trying to regain composure. “No, no,” I denied, my voice firm. “It’s just, what you said. It’s… funny. Commitment being your greatest fear?”

Chris chuckled, his smirk growing wider. “Hey, don’t laugh,” he retorted, his tone half-teasing. “I’m serious. Commitment is terrifying to me.”

Chris leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on me. “Alright, since we’re sharing,” he began, his tone somewhat lighter. “What about you? What’s your biggest fear?”

I paused, considering his question. “Honestly?” I began, my voice somewhat guarded. “My biggest fear is getting hurt, emotionally. Opening up to someone and having them use that vulnerability against you, that’s what scares me the most.”

I continued, my voice gaining a hint of vulnerability. “Probably abandonment as well,” I admitted, my tone somewhat distant. “You never know when people can leave, taking with them all the secrets you shared. It’s unpredictable and scary, not knowing when someone you trust can just… leave.”

Chris listened intently, his gaze fixed on me as I confessed my fear. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just observed me silently before speaking. “I get that,” he said finally, his tone somewhat softer. “It’s tough to let someone in when you’re always bracing for them to leave suddenly.”

I nodded slightly, appreciating his understanding. “That’s the thing, right?” I responded, my voice somewhat resigned. “It’s easier to just keep people at arm’s length, so you don’t have to deal with the possibility of them leaving and taking everything you shared with them.”

Chris’ eyebrow raised slightly at my response. “And Matt?” he asked, his tone somewhat curious. “Do you think he’d leave?”

I paused before answering, my voice firm. “I hope not,” I replied, my tone somewhat protective. “He’s genuinely the only one I have. I trust him with my life.”

Chris’ expression softened slightly as he heard my response, a mixture of understanding and respect in his gaze. “Sounds like you guys have a pretty close bond,” he remarked, his voice somewhat warm.

Chris continued with his questions, his tone still somewhat warm. “How did you guys meet?” he asked, his eyebrow raised in curiosity.

I smirked, playing off his attempt to get more information. “Well, trust is earned, right?” I said, my tone slightly teasing. “Looks like I earned yours pretty easily, but you haven’t earned mine yet, not yet at least.”

I couldn’t help but tease him, not yet ready to open up and give him the details he was craving. It was a defense mechanism, a way to keep people at arm's length. It took months before I even opened up to Matt, and I hated letting people in. I despised feeling weak when they left.

Chris chuckled in response, his expression hinting at amusement. “Playing hard to get, huh?” he said, his tone light. “I see how it is. You’re gonna make me work for it, ma?”

I shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk on my lips. “Maybe,” I responded, my voice somewhat coy. “You have to prove yourself worthy of my trust, after all. Why would I make it easy on you?”

Chris leaned in slightly, a charming smile on his face. “Maybe because I’m irresistible,” he said, his voice dripping with confidence. “And you can’t help but be drawn to me.”

I rolled my eyes at his overconfident statement, but couldn’t deny the slight flutter in my stomach. I tried to maintain a cool exterior, however. “Oh, please,” I retorted, my tone somewhat sarcastic. “I’m immune to your charms.”

As I continued to banter with Chris, my mind wandered for a moment. I had to admit, when I first laid eyes on him, I couldn’t deny that he was attractive. But as soon as I found out what he was really like, any initial attraction faded away. Yet deep down, I couldn’t deny that there was a thrill in playing hard to get, in seeing him try to charm me. It was a game, a challenge, and though I was loath to admit it, I couldn’t help but somewhat enjoy it.

As we continued to banter, I decided it was time to end our interaction. I started putting away my tools, my movements casual. “You should head home,” I said, my tone somewhat indifferent. “Before your brothers are worried sick.”

Chris grinned, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. “Trying to get rid of me already, ma?” he teased, his tone playful.

I let out a soft scoff, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. “More like making sure you don’t wear out your welcome,” I retorted, my tone half-teasing.

Chris chuckled, his expression amused. “Oh, come on,” he protested, feigning hurt. “You’re kicking me out already?”

I rolled my eyes, though secretly enjoying the banter. “Yes, I am,” I responded, my tone firm. “You’ve pestered me long enough for one day. Time to go.”

I walked over to the garage button and pushed it. “Alright, out you go,” I said, my tone somewhat sarcastic. “Time to go bother someone else for a change.”

Chris feigned hurt once more, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. “You wound me,” he said, his tone playful. “Being discarded so easily.”

I chuckled, pushing him gently out the garage. “Oh, you’ll survive,” I retorted, my tone light. “Now shoo, before your brothers really do get worried.”

Chris laughed, letting himself be pushed out of the garage. “Alright, alright,” he conceded, his gaze still holding a hint of mischief. “I’m going, I’m going.”

Chris turned back as he reached his car, a confident smile on his face. “See you around, ma,” he said, his tone somewhat cocky.

I rolled my eyes once more, not at all fond of the pet name. I watched him get in his flashy car and drive off, shaking my head slightly. “So full of himself,” I muttered under my breath.

After closing the garage, I found myself sitting at my work bench, curiosity getting the better of me. I decided to grab my laptop and start searching for information about Chris on the internet.

Normally, I wouldn't trust what the internet had to say, but given how little I knew about him, I couldn't resist the urge to find out more.

As I read through various articles and social media pages, it dawned on me that realistically, I could just ask Chris these questions myself. But no way was I going to let him know that I was actually interested in learning more about him. I refused to give him the satisfaction of feeding his ego.

As I scrolled through various search results, one article in particular caught my eye. “Chris Sturniolo and His Rise of Success,” the headline read. Curious, I clicked on it.

The article went on to discuss Chris's rise to fame in the street racing industry. My eyes widened as I read further, discovering his full real name: Christopher Owen Sturniolo.

I leaned back slightly, taking it all in. So, not only was he a street racer, but he had some fame in the world of illegal racing as well. This certainly explained his arrogance and confidence.

The article described Chris's accomplishments in the racing world, mentioning his impressive track record. It also hinted at his association with a certain gang, though the details were vague.

As I finished reading the article, I couldn't help but feel a mix of unease and intrigue. I knew street racing was dangerous, but the fact that he was involved in some sort of gang made it all the more concerning.

I closed the laptop, running a hand through my hair as I took a moment to process the newfound information about Chris.

I reopened the laptop, a mixture of curiosity and intrigue taking over. I navigated to his social media accounts, scrolling through pictures of him with different girls, their Instagram accounts linked.

I found myself getting more and more curious, clicking on the girls' Instagram pages one by one. I couldn’t help but snoop, my need to know more about him taking over.

As I continued to scroll through each girl's Instagram page, a familiar sight emerged. Video after video and picture after picture showed Chris at clubs with these girls, sometimes partying, sometimes smoking, but always around high-speed cars and dangerous races. It seemed that this lifestyle was a significant part of his life.

As I was scrolling through one of the girls’ Instagram profiles, my eyes landed on a video that made me grimace. It was a clip of Chris and the girl making out in what looked like a crowded party. His hands running all over her body.

“Gross,” I muttered to myself, quickly clicking out of the page. I couldn’t help but feel a mix of disgust and annoyance at the idea of Chris with these girls. Why did he have that effect on me?

I continued scrolling through his tagged photos, and one in particular caught my eye. A guy’s account had a picture of Chris working on a car in a black tank top, his orange coveralls rolled down to his waist, revealing a toned physique.

I couldn’t help but linger on the photo for a moment, taking in the sight. His muscular arms and shoulders were on full display as he focused on the car. It was a striking image.

I mentally shook myself, realizing I had been staring a bit too long at the picture. “Snap out of it, Y/N,” I muttered to myself, scolding my own thoughts.

I needed to stay focused. I couldn’t let myself get sidetracked by his appearance, regardless of how attractive he was.

Despite my best efforts to stay focused on the task at hand, my curiosity got the better of me. I found myself clicking on article after article, searching for more information about Chris.

I spent hours going down a rabbit hole, learning tidbits about him and his life within the street racing world. It was addictive, the thrill of discovering secrets I shouldn't know, secrets I shouldn’t care about.

The more I researched, the more I wondered why I was putting so much energy into learning about this guy. He was obviously a playboy, a charmer, with a reputation for having women falling at his feet.

But still, I couldn’t stop. I kept going, reading article after article until my eyes started to burn from the screen glare.

I finally closed the last tab, closing my laptop and letting out a sigh. I leaned back in my chair, massaging my forehead.

“Who really are you, Chris Sturniolo?” I muttered under my breath. The more I learned, the more confused I became.

He was a talented racer, a womanizer, and possibly even linked to a gang. But what did I really know about him, outside of all the articles and pictures?

I picked up my laptop, walking over to the garage door connecting to the house. With a flick of a switch, the garage lights darkened, casting the space in shadows.

I pushed open the door leading into the house, my mind still swirling with thoughts about Chris and all I had read about him earlier.

As I walked further into the house, my thoughts continued to stir. Who was Chris behind the flash and fame? Behind all the pictures and articles, the illegal racing, and the girls?

I couldn’t deny a feeling deep down inside that there was more to him than what met the eye. A person, a real person, different from the persona he often portrayed. There had to be more to him than that, a depth that the internet and the media couldn’t capture.

A/N: SECOND CHAPTER! SO HAPPY HOW THIS ONE CAME OUT

TAGS: @st6rify ✮⋆˙ @jetaimevous ✮⋆˙ @certifiedstarrr ✮⋆˙ @slvtf0rchr1s ✮⋆˙ @l3sbiancvnt ✮⋆˙ @wh0remikasas ✮⋆˙ @r0s3luvr ✮⋆˙ @emely9274 ✮⋆˙ @mimiluvzpicklez ✮⋆˙ @courta13

── .✦ MASTER—LIST ⭑𓂃 | ── SERIES HERE ໑‧₊˚.ꪆ

[sgtpeppers]

"A dark shadow on an otherwise beautiful record": PR, McCartney and The Beatles' Split.

“No, I wasn’t angry – shit, he’s a good P.R. man, that’s all. He’s about the best in the world, probably. He really does a job. I wasn’t angry. We were all hurt that he didn’t tell us that was what he was going to do.”

(John Lennon in Rolling Stone, 21 Jan 1971)

To cut to the chase, I want to explain why this statement from John, claiming Paul is a good PR man is wrong. Largely thanks to quotes like this from John, Paul gets painted as the Beatle with a good media strategy, the insinuation being of course, that he is disingenuous and inauthentic. I don’t believe this is true in general, but what I really want to focus on, and what John is referencing in that quote, is the publicity around Paul’s 1970 album McCartney, which got all tied up with the news of The Beatles split, and how actually, mistake after mistake was made, rather than it being what John claims - a purposeful move to get more publicity for his album. 

This isn’t a moral judgment on either John or Paul, or me saying Paul is stupid for not doing more. In fact, I think it playing out this way is far more interesting and we can gain a lot of insight about his mindset and relationships from his press activities around this time. 

I’m going to do this chronologically as much as possible, but before we dive in it will be helpful for us to keep a few basic PR strategies and tools in mind to help us understand what’s (or perhaps more importantly, what’s not) happening. So what are some things that make for good public relations? 

A clear, cohesive message. What's the story of the album? There should be key phrases that are repeated throughout press activities, and also allow an easy fall back when faced with questions that haven’t been prepared for. Broadly speaking, you want to highlight the good and ignore the bad, without lying or appearing to hide anything.

A good relationship with the press. Having even a couple of journalists on side can be a huge benefit, it makes for friendlier interviews and more forgiving assessments (which isn’t to say journalists are being fake or can be incentivised, but it’s just human nature that if you make friends, you’re going to have an easier time.) Furthermore, you want a reputation in the industry as someone that’s nice to interview, because journalists can and will talk, and if they’re going to come in with a preconception about you, you want it to be positive. 

Reactive messaging. If something comes out that you don’t want to be out, be prepared. Ideally potential problems have already been planned for. Know which journalists to reach out to, know what the story is, then be prepared to go quiet and leave things alone.

Pre-prepared Q&As or FAQs should answer more questions than they generate. They also shouldn’t require in depth answers - save that for conversations where there’s time for explanations. 

So, let’s start back in 1969. The Paul is dead rumours are in full force and Paul, Linda, Heather and Mary are living up in Scotland, trying to escape the goings-on back in London. 

On 24 October, Paul gives an interview to the BBC dispelling the rumours about his death, which goes out on 26-27 October in two parts. A few days later, Dorothy Bacon and Terrence Spencer from Life Magazine make the trip up to his farm to try and get another interview with him, for a piece they’re also doing about the rumours. 

Paul throws a bucket of dirty water at them, they get pictures, and then realising how this will look if published, Paul gives them an interview and promises to have Linda send them some family shots for the articles. In exchange they get rid of the photos they took earlier in the day.

So the first point here, that hopefully I don't need to spell out, is that you don’t wanna go throwing buckets of water at journalists. Thankfully, Paul did realise this and course corrected, but I can only imagine what the fall out would have been had he hadn’t gone after them. But what’s important for this story is that Paul is fed up with journalists and having to share his private life, he's emotional, and his instinct is to lash out.

The other thing that’s interesting here is a line that goes completely unnoticed. At this point, The Beatles split is not public knowledge. 

The Beatle thing is over. It has been exploded, partly by what we have done, and partly by other people. We are individuals, all different. John married Yoko, I married Linda. We didn’t marry the same girl.

(Paul McCartney in Life Magazine, November, 1969)

This is huge, and it doesn’t get picked up by anyone else. It’s not made a big deal of in the Life article, it’s perhaps the clearest statement we get about the state of The Beatles, and yet it flies under the radar. I’d love to know exactly what the deal is here, but there’s not much we can do about that, but what we should start keeping in mind in this: there is no plan in place around The Beatles split. There is just an agreement to not make it public yet. 

The McCartneys go back to London and Paul starts recording music with his new equipment at home. Later he books studio time when he decides he can make an album out of the songs he’s been working on. 

Some key dates: 

Paul finishes the album on 25 February.

The album is set to release on 17 April.

Ringo’s album get rushed to release two weeks early on 27 March and Let It Be is also supposed to be released in April.

On 31 March John and George send a letter, delivered by Ringo, asking Paul to delay the release of McCartney. Paul refuses and Let It Be gets moved instead. 

Which brings us to April. Prior this, Paul realised that if he’s going to be putting an album out he’s going to have to do some publicity, but the problem is… well, there’s a few; he’s never had to do publicity for a solo album and simply doesn’t have the knowledge, his relationship with Apple has completely deteriorated which includes the people who have been handling this stuff for him in the past, and lastly, he doesn’t want to be dealing with press. Refer back to him and the bucket. 

Thankfully, Peter Brown and Derek Taylor from Apple’s press office, tell him he does need to do something and to an extent, he listens. They select a handful of papers he’ll do interviews with, and Peter Brown puts together a Q&A for Paul to answer, which will go out to journalists in the press kit with their early copy of the album (x).

What I would love to do here is a question by question breakdown of that press kit Q&A but I’m conscious of how long this is already so I won’t… but before we get into that, here are a few more key events: 

7 April: The Eastmans issue a press release with news about Paul’s solo album and his acquisition of the film rights for Rupert The Bear. This is covered mostly by American press on 8 April who speculate that this could mean the end of The Beatles. (An important note here is the lack of communication between the Eastman's and Apple, not knowing what materials each other are providing is not helpful).

9 April: McCartney press kits are sent to journalists. 

9 April: Before Don Short at the Daily Mirror clocks off for the night, he is called by an Apple employee who told him Paul was definitely quitting. 

10 April: The Daily Mirror breaks the news with the headline ‘Paul Is Quitting The Beatles’. 

10 April: After doing interviews all day, Derek Taylor issues a statement regarding The Beatles. It doesn’t say much, which he acknowledges, because there’s not much he can say at this point. Another important note here, is that not even the head of publicity of Apple knew what was going on with The Beatles. There is no communication, and with no communication there can be no plan.

(Paul McCartney Project page that covers all this)

So what happened that made The Beatles split go from speculation to a certainty? It’s all to do with that Q&A. Of course, with the Eastman’s press release people were going to start connecting the dots, but that call Short got from his source isn’t presented as a rumour. 

Now, there’s a lot to say about this Q&A because Paul's answer are so unhelpful and you can feel his attitude. I think the fact this was allowed to go out is a fundamental piece of evidence of Paul’s relationship with Apple at the time. No one wanted to tell him no, and he certainly wasn’t going to give them more than the bare minimum. 

And lets be really clear here. This is a Q&A for his new album. Obviously the state of Beatles was going to be brought up which is why Peter Brown included the questions, but the number of the questions on that topic and then Paul’s answer, make it really confusing and it’s no wonder this is what press picked up on, rather than just talking about Paul’s album. There are 41 questions in total, and 13 of them are asking him about his relationship to the other Beatles, Apple and Klein. That’s just over a third of the Q&A talking about things that he doesn’t want to be talking about. The fact he didn’t just tell Apple that he wasn’t going to answer some of the questions shows how little forethought went into this on his part. There was a much more concise way to do this, and I do not believe for a second Paul wanted further questions about the state of the Beatles when he’s trying to promote his first solo album. 

And remember what I said at the top, about how if you’re gonna be promoting something in the press you want clear messaging around it? That’s already going be difficult now this Q&A has tied so much of the Beatles split into their messaging, despite Paul actually having a pretty clear idea of what the album’s story is aside from that, but the answers Paul gives to those questions just add further confusion. 

Link to full Q&A.

Q: Were you influenced by John’s adventures with the Plastic Ono Band, and Ringo’s solo LP? A: Sort of, but not really. Q: Will they be so credited: McCartney? A: It’s a bit daft for them to be Lennon-McCartney-credited, so ‘McCartney’ it is. Q: Will the other Beatles receive the first copies? A: Wait and see. Q: Is it true that neither Allen Klein nor ABKCO have been nor will be in any way involved with the production, manufacturing, distribution or promotion of this new album? A: Not if I can help it. Q: Did you miss the other Beatles and George Martin? Was there a moment eg, when you thought ‘wish Ringo was here for this break?” A: No. Q: Are you planning a new album or single with the Beatles? A: No. Q: Is this album a rest away from the Beatles or the start of a solo career? A: Time will tell. Being a solo album means it’s the start of a solo career… and not being done with the Beatles means it’s a rest. So it’s both. Q: Is your break from the Beatles temporary or permanent, due to personal difference or musical ones? A: Personal differences, business differences, musical differences, but most of all because I have a better time with my family. Temporary or permanent? I don’t know. Q: Do you see a time when Lennon-McCartney becomes an active songwriting partnership again? A: No. Q: What is your relationship with Klein: A: It isn’t – I am not in contact with him, and he does not represent me in any way. Q: What is your relationship with apple? A: It is the office of a company which I part-own with the other three Beatles. I don’t go there because I don’t like the offices or business, especially when I’m on holiday.

So what can we get from this? It’s the start of a solo career for Paul, he doesn’t know if The Beatles break is permanent or temporary, he’s not in contact with Klein and Klein doesn’t represent him, he owns part of Apple but he doesn’t like going there, and he seems very certain that the Lennon-McCartney partnership is over, despite not being sure if The Beatles will play together again or not. 

It’s a mess. It raises further questions. The only reason I can think of for it being so long is Peter Brown trying to cover absolutely everything he could think a journalist would ask, but it’s given Paul far too much scope for muddled answers, and in some cases, factually incorrect ones. He is tied up with Klein whether he likes it or not, because Klein’s tied up with Apple and Paul still has a contract with them. 

It’s no wonder that this becomes the focus of the media narrative, and it makes Paul panic. 

So on 16 April, the day before McCartney was released, Paul sits down with journalist Ray Connolly. And we move from story making, into reactive messaging. There is some thought behind this - Connolly is friendly with The Beatles and had actually already been aware of the split thanks to an off the record chat with John, so he was a good choice. The interview was published in the Evening Standard, a few days after the album had come out. 

And here’s why you want a friendly journalist to talk to, because as the world rushed to say that Paul had broken up the band, Connolly led his article with this: 

Paul McCartney didn’t kill the Beatles. If the group is dead, McCartney might be seen as the last survivor. If he has quit, and he still hasn’t confirmed it, he was the last to go.

(Paul McCartney in the Evening Standard, 21-22 April 1970)

However, the interview is also extremely telling about where Paul’s at emotionally in this moment. 

A few days ago Paul McCartney decided to break his year-long silence and be interviewed. He wanted to clear up the confusion about his relations with the other Beatles and Allen Klein, and to kill the rumours that he was now ‘a hermit living in a cave somewhere with a ten-foot beard’. He wanted to show that he really was a happily married man with ‘a nice family and a good life’. But most of all he wanted to talk, to work things out in conversation, as much, I suspect, for his own benefit as anything.

This is not what you want to be doing with a journalist, you want to have this worked out before the conversation. 

We met for lunch in a Soho businessman’s restaurant. With hardly moments for the hellos, he’d launched into his theme, talking rapidly and intently, and only occasionally allowing Linda to come in as support and verification. He wanted to put it all straight, to show that no one was to blame for what had happened, and when after two and a half hours’ non-stop talking he had cleared up his mind and mine too, he laughed, said he felt better now, got into his car and went home.

This demonstrates the lack of media training he had. It’s a stark difference to the confidence he had doing press with the other Beatles, on his own and with a particular idea to get across he appears nervous and controlling. Long form interviews like this are a marathon, not a sprint, and had he had an advisor or representative that was willing to push back against him, he would have known how to handle this better.

Moreover, an interview of this sort should have been done and published prior to the album coming out, or at least on the day of. Yes, there were always going to be questions about The Beatles tied up with this release, but one long interview like this, that had been properly prepared for, could have gone a long way to keeping the story straight. He also, despite his steamroller-ing of the conversation to begin with, comes across much more balanced about the situation than he does in those Q&A answers, so leading with something like this would have put him on much better footing.

So let's just pause here. What have we got so far? We've got Paul wanting to do a little press as possible, and with a breakdown of communication with his press team resulting in minimal planning and advice. This goes completely against the picture John is trying to paint.

And I’m not done yet. Because now we need to talk about the response to the album which wasn’t what I imagine Paul had wanted. There are two reviews I’m going to focus on here, firstly from Disc & Music Echo, written by Penny Valentine. 

I don’t know what he was thinking when he planned this album. Perhaps he is laughing at us all. That’s fine, but it’s a pretty cruel way of doing it… almost a betrayal of all the things we’ve come to expect.

(Disc & Music Echo review, 18 April 1970)

It’s really harsh, but also this is within her right as a journalist. And what should someone do if they’re getting bad reviews? Ignore them. Thank the fans. Thank the people who say nice things. Don’t highlight negative attention, and certainly don’t lash out. 

And look, there’s a lot to be said about Paul, Linda, John and Yoko’s press communications over the 70s, the Melody Maker letters spring to mind, and I’m very aware that I’m looking at this from 2025 when PR is much bigger and better oiled machine, almost to the point of it being quite boring and predictable. I do, however, also think that ‘don’t lash out at journalists who don’t like your work’ is common sense. 

So Paul and Linda writing to Disc & Echo is a bit much to my eyes: 

Dear Penny hold your hand out you silly girl I am not being cruel or laughing at you. I am merely enjoying myself. You are wrong about the McCartney album. It is an attempt at something slightly different, it is simple, it is good and even at this moment it is growing on you, love. – Paul and Linda McCartney.

(Paul and Linda's telegram to Disc & Echo, 25 April 1970)

It’s condescending, and if you’ve want the plant the seeds of what your album is meant to be, there are much better places and ways to do it. Again this is reactive, showing little to no planning earlier in the year. 

But here’s the thing that actually, completely baffles me. On the same day, in the same paper, another article gets published, this time by Derek Taylor, with the by line reading ‘Derek Taylor, Beatles Press Officer’. This just shouldn't happen. I can’t think of another case where someone’s PR is coming to their rescue in print. That’s not their job, and yes, Taylor used to be a journalist but he’s not anymore. I think this is way more to do with the way the people that have been with the Beatles since the early days are so emotionally wrapped up in this, they weren’t the people that should have been handling this.

(x)

It also shows though, that however much Paul was distancing himself from Apple, there were people still there who loved him. It’s an emotional, beautifully written piece calling for people to leave Paul alone, but also not a good PR move, especially when he’s highlighting a specific journalist. Whether Paul asked Derek to do this, or Derek did it of his own accord, I don’t know, but it looks defensive and if I was a journalist, I’d be rolling my eyes. 

Which brings us to the final part of this, the Rolling Stone review, published on 14 May 1970, nearly a month after the album came out, and largely not about the album at all, but a lot of  focus on Paul’s handling of the situation. 

The review of the actual songs is pretty complimentary, but this is also a personal attack on Paul. 

(Full review)

Unfortunately, there is more to this album than just music. Accompanying the release of McCartney was a mass of external information — all of it coming directly from Paul himself — which casts real doubt on the beautiful picture which the songs create. 

The sheets contain even more assertions about how happy and peaceful Paul and Linda are these days, and some interview statement from Paul concerning his relationship to the Beatles — statements which drip a kind of unsavory vindictiveness.

My problem is that all of the publicity surrounding the record makes it difficult for me to believe that McCartney is what it appears to be. In the special package of information which Paul wanted to include with the album we find startlingly harsh statements.

The lasting effect of this publicity campaign is to cast a dark shadow on an otherwise beautiful record. Listening to it now I cannot help but ask if Paul is really as together as the music indicates, how could he have sunk to such bizarre tactics?

I don't think this needs much commentary. You know something’s gone wrong with your PR when that becomes the focus, rather than the thing you’re actually trying to promote. 

If we return to the four things I listed above, I think we can pretty resolutely lay out what I wanted to do. 

Was there a clear, cohesive message? Around the album itself, sort of, Paul knew what it was. But it got tied up with the news of The Beatles split, the messaging around which was confusing with no one sticking to the same story. He also didn't do enough before the album came out, to get that messaging about his album stuck in people's heads. So overall, no. 

Did he build good relationships with press? No. He threw a bucket at one. He provided confusing press kit material, even to journalists he was friendly with he came across in a manner that was worth noting in an article, he sent a bitchy telegram to a journalist who wrote a bad review, and this all culminated in Rolling Stone spending more time talking about his publicity than his album.  

Did Paul have reactive messaging prepared? Evidently not, and then given the chance to provide some, he came across as panicked to the journalist he was speaking to. 

Did his Q&A provide clear, simple answers to common questions he was likely to get asked? No, it was overly long, asking the same questions in multiple ways and no editing was done to his short, snappy, confusing, and incorrect answers. 

I don’t want to give the idea that Paul, overall, is just shit at PR. (I mean, there's a difference between being a good spokesperson and good at PR but I won't get into that). He’s a highly successful musician who by all accounts, is now extremely good at interviews and making journalists feel at ease. He’s Paul fucking McCartney. But John saying this, in direct reference to this period of press activities is just not true. The album did well for Paul in the charts and sales, yes, but I’d argue that’s despite all this, rather than because of it. 

And it’s also important to reiterate, that Paul simply wasn’t interested in doing a lot of publicity. He wasn’t even sure this was going to be an album when he started writing the songs. He didn’t want people coming to his farm, invading his new family life (and rightly so), he didn’t want to be on TV or the radio every day. That’s why his Q&A is so terse and why he hadn’t put any thought in how he was going to talk about The Beatles. And whilst how he felt is understandable, what he needed were a team around him willing to push back, steer him, and were separate from Apple. That’s the only way, I think, this could have gone differently.

Even then, he probably wouldn’t have listened to them anyway: 

I don’t think I need a manager in the old sense that Brian Epstein was our manager. All I want are paid advisers, who will do what I want them to do. And that’s what I’ve got.

(Paul McCartney in the Evening Standard, 21-22 April 1970)

And that’s really the crux of it all, because you can’t do good with PR with someone who doesn’t want to take advice and thinks they know best. And I love him for it. 

[rodolfoparras]

due to again retail busy and I forgot how dumb and infuriating people can be and I have a fucking short fuse of an anger— have this before the smut for build up sugar cube :) again, merry Christmas to everyone here, I hope y'all are having a much better day, just wanna know how actually I'm proud to see the anons here saying great things they have achieved, including you Alec because moving into a new house especially where you feel like now you don't have to restrain from anything is a great feeling I can understand and I hope your staying safe out there (quite literally)

It started off as a joke. Really.

You stayed behind with some rookies after training them, a lot of them have questions from diet advice or their perks and Price was there due to needing to ask you for that report you were meant to write on his last mission.

Sure, kids are young, they'll let their mouth fly pass like a damn wind. Price understands that, but—

"Colonel, look at this reel, it's so funny." It was a video of a hairy male who at first mouthing lyrics to a rather ludicrous song about nasty acts, to when it suddenly transitioned to him wearing a bra that somehow perfectly cups his chest to look like a woman's.

The other, more sensible recruit of course elbowed his friend for showing this kind of thing to you, their superior— but Price didn't miss that subtle smirk you had and once glance towards him and his chest. To which that leads to here. Price still checking himself up in front of the mirror, after that day he impulsively bought a pair of blue sets of panties and bralette.

Insecurities makes him feel funny in this, even humiliated— sure, he could have read the room wrong, and god knows where'd his career he if it's true but... this could be a perfect chance for him to gain your attention, not as superior to subordinate, but with lust. He had fantasized too much on how your rough hands would feel like, that's for sure.

Price puts on his military suit again, the feeling of cotton material rubs against the thin lacy undergarments just puts a reminder on what he's doing— he needs to play his card right and maybe... *he'll get more than he bargaining.*

With that, Price knocks on the door of your office, taking a deep breath before straightening himself. In the back of his mind, doubts and doubts flood in— but the feeling of silk rubbing against his chest and the fullness of the plug nestled between his ass is enough to make him stay put and stand tall.

A low grumble was heard before the door swung open. You were there behind him, in your military suit as usual, looking down at him with an expectant look "Price, what is it?" You asked.

Price takes a gulp at the sight of you then, fuck he wants you. "Colonel, can I talk to you in private?" You nodded at that, letting him in and you closes the door behind him. "What is it?"

"Can you lock the door? Make sure no one's around?"

'I guess it's that confidential of a detail for a mission.' Is what you thought as you take a glance around before locking the door, hearing something shuffling and rustling behind you. "Price, is something the matter—" You didn't even get to finish your sentence as you were met with a sight of Price hurriedly stop undressing his military suit, revealing a skimpy lace bralette underneath, chest hair protrudes the cloth.

"I— was gonna say don't turn around.. yet."

Jesus Christ. You didn't know how long you were standing there, Price's hand still frozen by his belt before he looked down to see a dark stain in front of your straining bulge that look like it hurt. Oh. Did you just came, by just looking at him like this? He didn't know it'd work this well, or is it because it's him?

"Colonel?" "Ye— fuck, yeah?"

"Don't you wanna have a closer look?"

Let's just say, his confidence went racking up ever since that day and how others notice how often Price came by your office, often coming out with a satisfied look, and a limping legs.

Perhaps a hint of lace if you squint your eyes at the opened button on his chest.

🪂

AWOOOOOO AWEOOOOO AWEOOOO WEEPOOOOO IM GOONG YO LISE MU MIND IM GOING TO OOSE MY DAMN MIND LET ME ON LET ME IN LET MEN I RN