#and did not care what she had to distract u from to do it

[vigilskeep]

Hi Harker, big fan of your stuff! If you don't mind me asking, what happened to your tabris, rowena?

she still exists! i could pick up the playthrough, i think i just got bored of dao rogue gameplay, i hadn’t tried it much before and it’s not my favourite. i actually coloured in an old little sketch of her as a kid with stepmamae adaia last night and it made me Feel Things

[azulpitlane]

american wedding l ln4

summary: lando dating zak brown's daughter leads to a lot of pr disasters, like getting married in vegas

notes: can be read as a part two to boss' daughter or a stand alone

masterlist

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 38,329 others

yourusername wasnt gonna drink tonight but i miss my bf like a mf.

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user real tbh

user i miss u like a mf. show ur face at a race already queen.

user no cause it's been forever since she went to one and i miss the chaotic content with her and lando

user you know damn well you were gonna drink regardless liked by yourusername

landonorris i miss u more😓 just drop out of uni and come to all my races

zbrownceo excuse me?

landonorris JUST A JOKE! ha ha ha.

user LANDO😭😭

landonorris but i just booked a flight to nyc because of this post btw. see you this weekend😈

yourusername i was about to start crying until i realized what emoji you used😐

oscarpiastri dont we have be at the mtc this weekened??

yourusername SHHHH OSCAH

landonorris yeah oscar shhh

user poor oscar is always getting tag teammed by those two

user lando getting that in-law privilege by skipping important meetings to see his boss' daughter😭

user i love this relationship's dynamic theyre so perfect for each other

f1gossip

23,432 likes

f1gossip Lando and Y/n's Brown's weekend in New York City! It seems Lando skipped his trip to the MTC to be with his girlfriend where they were pictured clubbing and walking around the city multiple times.

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user IN THE CLURB WE ALL FAM

user he finally met his match lol

user lando is a clingy drunk confirmed✅

user i really want to know what their drunk conversations sound like

user hot take but if she wasnt zaks daughter most of you guys would hate her

user shes making him blow off important meetings so he could be with her? she sounds like a distraction from racing

user girl what- her dad is literally the ceo? if there was an issue im sure he wouldve let them know bffr

user zak brown is probably tired of these two😭

user is partying all they do together?

user no cause she lowkey seems like a bad influence

user i agree🫣 shes always posting herself partying and drinking, thats not wag material

user she might be a pr nightmare but i stand with my canceled wife💜

landonorris

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 820,429 others

landonorris nyc to vegas🛩 aaaand i brought the bad influence with

tagged yourusername

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user the caption IM-

user nah hes lowkey dissing y/n haters😭

user how did he bag someone 10x cooler than him

user the bottle of alcohol and the vape, she really is ready for vegas

user Y/N'S BACK!!!

yourusername vegas aint ready for us

landonorris no they arent😈

yourusername enough.

user no hate to the other wags but y/n is truly the realest one out of all of them

user fr she truly is just a normal girl in her twenties

oscarpiastri 🙂

yourusername what is that suppose that mean OSCAH!!! my father will hear of this

oscarpiastri ok calm down draco malfoy

user why is there lowkey beef between y/n and oscar LMFAO

yourusername he hates my swag!!!

oscarpiastri she brings a lotttt of energy to the garage when shes here🙂

user im crying at oscars response😭😭😭 hes had enough of yn and lando

user idk if her holding a bottle of alcohol is appropriate to post!

user pls grow up omg

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, danielricciardo and 59,329 others

yourusername postt race partoes >>>>>> the avtual race

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user THEE party girl

user i need to party with them so bad

user lando.jpg when???

user the typos😭 shes already drunk

user yup theres already videos of her and lando drunkly dancing together all over twitter

user yeah and oscar was in the background of those videos looking miserable LMFAOO

user oh to be a wag partying in vegas with lando

yourusername posted a story

user i voted fall to my knees and cry btw…if you even care

user um this is a random question to ask at 3am…

user what stores are even open rn😭😭

-

oscarpiastri Y/N??? IVE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU AND LANDO FOR LIKE A HALF AN HOUR AT THE CLUB AND YOURE NOT EVEN HERE??

oscarpiastri if you guys dont pick up your phones i swear to god…

oscarpiastri of course i get stuck as babysitter to the two most drunk people at the party

yourusername heY oscah😊😊 sendingg u my lpcation now cuz we need a witness so come ASAPPPPPP

oscarpiastri WITNESS FOR WHAT?

-

danielricciardo if this means what i think it means, youre both so dead🤣

user babes didnt u just post at the club like an hour ago

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 1,392,321 others

yourusername do u guys thonk my dad will be mad thaT oscar walked me down the aislee?

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user OH MY GOD??

user mclarens pr team are going to have a rude awakening in the morning😭

user shes never beating the bad influence allegations i fear

user crazy to think that this time last year he was flirting with her through her instagram comments😭

user and now theyre married omg i remember everyone was teasing lando but he truly got the last laugh

carlossainz55 i dont know if i should congralute you guys or be concerned?

user mind you, its almost four in the morning in vegas

danielricciardo getting married is crazy, you should be at the club

yourusername u mak a grrat point! otw now

mclaren we cannot congratulate until the boss says its okay sorry😕

zbrownceo answer your phone.

oscarpiastri sir, i would like it to be known that she blackmailed to be there

yourusername okay snitch!

zbrownceo im not kidding y/n

danielricciardo ouuu youre in trouble

user its so over for them

user zak finally putting his foot down with these two LMFAO

f1gossip

25,532 likes

f1gossip Wedding celebrations at the club! Seems like the newlyweds are back partying after their wedding announcement was made just a few minutes ago. Congrats to them?

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user everyone is freaking out and theyre literally at the club im cryingg

user "congrats to them?" is literally all of us rn😭

user they are not real omg

user zak is probably blowing up their phones and they do not care at all lmfaooo

user truly winning the idgaf war

user real question is are they getting an annulment once they sober up???

user i really wanna know what zak will make them do

f1gossip

20,329 likes

f1gossip Newly weds update! The two were seen this afternoon leaving Las Vegas with Zak Brown himself. Neither were seen wearing wedding rings, possible divorce?

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user well that was fun while it lasted

user damn they beat kim kardashians record of the shortest marriage

user at least theyre still dating😭

user they definitely got yelled at lmfaoo

user cant tell if zak is happy or angry that his daughter married norris considering how much he loves him

user oh hes def happy about it but not happy they posted it LOL

user good for him for getting an annulment. shes a mess

user and hes not? bye theyre both messy

landonorris 📍qatar

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 2,424,232 others

landonorris annulment? we're in our honeymoon

view all comments

user oh so theyre fr about this marriage😭

user does bro know theres a race on sunday

user they look so in love im honestly really happy for them

yourusername we beat the fraud marriage allegations💜

mclaren now thats its been approved by the boss, congratulations to the best papaya couple theres ever been🧡

user wow so zak approves! im shocked tbh

user i wish i couldve seen their reactions the morning after the wedding

yourusername ohhh we didnt remember any of it tbh but were happy now!

user LMFAO OMG....

user she finally got her ring!! and here you guys were thinking they got a divorce bc she didnt have one

danielricciardo never thought id see the day

yourusername me neither tbh

landonorris excuse me WHAT

landoupdates

50,242 likes

landoupdates Lando was questioned on his Vegas wedding in new interview.

"We decided not to get any annulment or anything and just keep this Vegas marriage as sort of like a promise for a real one in the future." 🧡

view all comments

user omg😭😭they are too cute

user not to be dramatic but i would honestly cried if they broke up

user no literally they mean everything to me

user "i really do think y/n is the one" DO YOU HEAR ME SOBBING

user he gets so smiley when y/n is brought up ughhh me and WHO

user and to think y/n has haters is crazyyy this man is so in love with her

user if oscar isnt the best man ill riot for him, he was there for the og wedding

user imagining them trying to convince zak to not get a divorce is the cutest but funniest thing ever

-

more notes: has anyone seen anora?? it inspired this haha A FRAUD MARRIAGE!!!

[monserelates]

I Only Threw This Party 4 U ; James Potter

⇨ james potter x f! reader

⇨ summary: When y/n sees James making out with another girl at a party, what could go wrong?

⇨ warnings: angst, use of y/n, angry love confession, happy ending, and I think that’s all.

⇨ a/n: this is my first angst one shot, let me know what I can improve please!

word count: 1.2k

I only threw this party for you, yeah..

The common room is glowing red and gold.

The music is loud, someone’s spiked the pumpkin juice, and Sirius is already half-dancing on a table with a tie around his forehead. It’s a Gryffindor celebration—another Quidditch win, another Potter-led triumph.

And you only came because James asked.

You weren’t going to. You’d had a headache all day. You didn’t feel like dancing, like smiling, like pretending that your chest didn’t get tight every time James touched you for just a little too long and still didn’t say anything.

But he looked at you with those eyes and said,

“Come on, love. Won’t be fun without you.”

So you did.

You got dressed, Lily curled your hair and Marlene helped you do your makeup.

You’re sitting on the couch, talking to Marlene and Lily, when you see it.

It’s just past midnight. The room is hazy with music and chatter and Butterbeer, and James is still flying high from the win. Everyone is chanting his name

And then—he kisses her.

She’s some Ravenclaw from a study group. She throws her arms around him. He doesn’t push her away.

In fact, he kisses her back.

You guys aren’t dating after all, so why should it matter?

You guys are just best friends. You tell yourself,

best friends. Nothing more.

You don’t care. In fact, it doesn’t bother you. He can shag her on this table for all you care. But your thoughts don’t reflect the stinging you feel on your eyes and the warm tears slide down your cheek.

“Are you okay?” Dorcas asks, putting a hand on your shoulder, “oh.”

“Uhm, I’ll catch you guys later, okay? I- I forgot I have an essay do transfiguration due tomorrow.”

“But isn’t that due next week?” Lily Asks.

You don’t say anything. Don’t cry. Don’t throw a scene

Your heart doesn’t break. It shatters. Quietly.

You just get up and leave. Out the portrait hole. Past Elizabeth, who watches you go with concern.

Behind you, the party roars on.

⸻

James doesn’t notice you’re gone until hours later.

By then, you’ve already locked your curtains shut and cried yourself to sleep.

⸻

The next morning, you don’t sit with him at breakfast.

Or in Transfiguration.

Or by the lake during your usual Thursday reading hour.

At first, he thinks it’s coincidence.

By the second day, it’s not.

⸻

In the staff room, McGonagall leans over her tea and says,

“They’re not speaking.”

Sprout looks devastated. “But they were so close.”

“I had them down for spring,” mutters Flitwick, scribbling sadly on a very worn-out betting chart.

Dumbledore just sighs, staring out the window. “The boy is a fool.”

⸻

James tries everything.

He brings you toast at breakfast. You pass i.

He waits for you outside the library. You walk right past him.

“Talk to me,” he finally begs, cornering you after Charms.

You blink up at him, eyes unreadable. “What is it? Or would you rather chat it up with Ellie Goldensmith?”

He flinches like you slapped him.

And then you walk away.

⸻

You can’t lie and say you haven’t cared, after all, your tear-soaked pillow and your eye bags speak for you. The days stretch. The silence aches.

Sirius stops joking. Remus starts watching you both with a quiet kind of worry. Peter tries to talk to you once—asks how you are. You smile too brightly and say, “Fine.”

You aren’t.

You miss him when you wake up. When you sit by the fire. When you forget some stupid inside joke and turn to whisper it to him—and remember.

You feel like a ghost in your own skin.

And James?

He’s actually going insane.

He’s distracted in practice. Short-tempered in class. He doesn’t even want to do pranks anymore.

And the worst part?

He doesn’t even like the girl he kissed. He never did.

He was just trying to feel… something. Anything.

And all he feels now is regret.

⸻

In the staff room, Professor Vector sighs. “This is tragic.”

Sprout nods. “He’s been quieter in class. It’s like a sad little puppy.”

They’re going to confess,” McGonagall says firmly. “It’s just a matter of time.”

“Or,” says Slughorn, sipping his wine, “they’ll be dramatic forever, and I’ll win the bet.”

———

the storm breaks. so does he.

The rain is coming down in sheets.

It wasn’t supposed to storm today, but of course it does. The sky breaks just as you’re leaving the castle, too angry to care. You storm past the oak doors, ignoring Lily’s voice behind you.

James is already chasing after you.

“Y/N—Y/N, wait!”

You don’t stop.

You can hear his footsteps splashing through the puddles, gaining on you as you make it halfway across the courtyard.

“What?” you snap, spinning around, hoping he didn’t notice your breath hitching after looking at him in the eyes and noticing his pale skin and messy hair. “What do you want, James?”

He’s soaked. Dripping. Breathless.

“I—Merlin—I need to talk to you.”

“About what?” You throw your arms out, water running down your face like tears. “About how you snogged some girl in front of me like it meant nothing? Or about how I stood next to you for years, years and never once got that look?”

His jaw tightens. “It didn’t mean anything—”

“Exactly!” you shout, voice cracking. “It meant nothing. So was I supposed to just laugh? Cheer you on? Watch you make out with someone else and pretend it didn’t feel like I got kicked in the chest?!”

He stares at you. You’re both shaking. Rainwater sticks your hair to your face and It’s impossible to tell what’s water and what’s tears.

“I only ever came to that stupid party for you, James.”

His mouth opens, then shuts. You turn to go.

“I didn’t know,” he says, quietly, broken. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

You spin back. “Of course you didn’t James, just as oblivious as ever. Tell me, did you ever feel it? Did you ever feel me staring at you across the room? or how flustered I got every time you called me love? Or how about that time you got sick the flu and I-

And something inside him snaps.

“I FELT EVERYTHING!”

Your breath catches.

“I felt it every time you smiled at me. Every time you took my hand during a prank or patched me up after practice or looked at me like I was something more than a bloody joke!” he shouts, rain hitting harder than ever. “I was in love with you and I didn’t say anything because I thought I’d lose you—but I lost you anyway!”

Silence.

Just thunder.

Just your heaving breaths.

“Please, love, say something.” James pleaded.

“Then why?” your voice wobbles. “Why would you kiss her?”

He looks like he might cry.

“Because I saw the way you looked at me and thought there’s no way someone like her could love someone like me.”

He steps closer.

“I kissed her to prove to myself I didn’t care. And all it did was prove that I’d never stop caring about you.”

You stare.

He’s trembling. You are too.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

And then, without meaning to—without thinking—you’re kissing him.

Not like a first kiss.

Like a fight. Like a scream. Like a war finally ending.

He grips your soaked robes like they’re the only thing keeping him standing and you run your hands through his messy curls as if he was the missing piece of your puzzle

And somewhere, high in the tower, the professors are watching from the window.

McGonagall hands Dumbledore a galleon without a word.

[esotericbluntbaby]

impact

hamzahthefantastic x reader

description: after a rocky breakup with hamzah, your friend decided to drag you out for a night of entertainment. stumbling upon an boxing match, you thought that you'd be able to take your mind off the heartbreak you persevered through, not knowing that the very man who caused it was in the ring.

mentions: boxer! hamzah, ex! hamzah, hamzah's kind of an ass, blood, bruises, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, forced proximity she/her pronouns

edged u guys with this sorry!

--

hamzah wasn't the best boyfriend. in fact, he was relatively one of the worst people that you could think of.

the pain you suffered stemmed from a relationship of about two and a half years; that much time attached to someone like ball and chain tends to hurt when the chain is cut off. throughout, you asked yourself what could've possibly happened to the man you fell in love with. he grew distant without explanation over time, becoming a ghost of the memories, emotions, and connection that the two of you once had. you spent your nights crying at night in your apartment because you had no clue where he was, nor did he care enough to text you about why he hasn't spoken to you in hours.

though you loved him, you realized the dynamic of your relationship was turning into spoiled milk. the love you once felt so deeply for him slowly turned into anguish and resentment for the time wasted. tears lessened the more you grew used to his absence as conversations began to die down, growing numb to the hurt he caused you by taking himself away from you. the sheets around you became the most "home" you've felt since you rarely felt his body around you, even when he was around. your heart grumbled with the new-found hunger that he made you feel; a craving that could no longer be quenched in the way that flowers crave water and sunlight to grow. how foolish of you to fall in love with someone who no longer knows how to love; how foolish of you to fall in love with someone who could break you apart by taking the love he had for you away.

two years, and even more of simply knowing hamzah, was gone within several texts and the block button being pressed, leaving you numb to any emotion that you were capable of feeling. you originally weren't going to block him, especially because you wanted to give him a final shot at explaining if he was going through a personal struggle or depression that spread onto you; if he was, you would've been more supportive than you currently were. however, you fought an internal battle with yourself on if you'd fold and stay with the mere joy that seeing his text message would give you. you no longer wanted to hurt, nor did you want to feel second. you had to block him in order to heal.

it has been 6 months ever since those text messages were sent and your life became a constant struggle of pondering. you thought that ending things would stop your craving for the "why"s and "what-if"s; instead, it amplified it. he definitely wouldn't text you; even if he did, you had him blocked both mentally and physically. so, you became an insomniac due to the running thoughts and memories that circled in your head every night. it wasn't healthy for you, of course, but you had no clue how to stop it.

that was until you figured out how to distract yourself from the mere thought of him. shaving away the part of your brain that contained him, you began to be as busy as possible as a coping mechanism for his leave. temporarily, it worked; however, you still dreamt of a life with him. you still dreamt of a life with the hamzah that kissed you that fateful night, tainting your lips with the feeling of love and staining your life with his own imprint on you.

--

tonight was supposed to be a night-in: chinese food, a romcom, and possibly some weed, if you really felt like it. however, your friend rin decided to drag you alongside her to this boxing match with her boyfriend, tyler. the last thing you wanted to be doing was third-wheeling your friend in an area that wasn't of your expertise, however, you owed her for the time that she gave you the rest of her rolling papers when you were out. so, putting on your leather coat, you headed off and walked to the address she sent you.

rin's colorful locs made her stand out from the crowd of people in front of the warehouse, as well as her lively personality. giving her a hug and feeling the fuzz on her sweater, you forgot what it was like to feel the touch of another person. it made you feel slightly loser-esque, but it was soon brushed off when tyler greeted you with a simple smile and wave.

"i haven't seen you in forever!" rin exclaimed, bathing in the fact that you came.

you smiled, "yeah, sorry, i've just been busy. how've you been?"

"i've been so good- me and tyler just moved in together, actually."

a flashback of a conversation you had with hamzah about moving in with him painfully entered your mind. you needed to distract yourself from the thoughts before they consumed you like quicksand.

"i'm so happy for you- how is it?" you asked the both of them.

tyler jokingly snarked, "besides all the hair that falls into the drain that she makes me clean up," she playfully hit him, "it's been amazing."

"oh, stop it! it isn't all the time-"

"yes, it is!

"no-"

the conversation fell into empty background noise as their banter created the emergence of the very problem you were running away from. in all honestly, you couldn't help but feel envious of the two in front of you as their playfulness reminded you of hamzah. lately, almost everything reminded you of him. you pushed the thought out of your head and reached the front of the line to buy your tickets. heading into the warehouse, you took your seats as you suddenly felt the loneliest you've ever felt as they began to become immersed in each other's presence. you were simply a third party.

--

growing tired of the boxing match in front of you, whom you didn't even know the names of, you decided to get up and stretch your legs, as well as explore the place you were at. you lied, saying that you had to use the restroom, and walked around a couple of times. it was only until you heard an announcer in the other room that you stopped in your tracks, feeling your throat grow a lump and your heart drop to the floor.

"aaand hamzah's down, folks! will he be able to recover?"

you flinched at the mere mention of his name. hamzah's relatively popular, especially within middle eastern communities, or at least, that's what you told yourself. curiousity always killed the cat, though, no matter how strong it was. unsurprisingly, you walked into the other room to allow your thoughts to be at ease. surely, it couldn't be the hamzah that you know of.

except it was.

he was almost unrecognizable.

the once curly, brown hair you'd run your hands into as he'd fall asleep was now buzzed and bleached to a toned blonde. he was fit; his muscles were always there, but watching him in the ring made you realized that he was now toned. his face now adorned a gash on his cheekbone, as well as bruises decorating his skin. though you resented him, you still worried for his wellbeing. you stared as his opponent blocked and punched him.

hamzah's eyes then locked onto yours for a solid 5 seconds, before his opponent socked him in the face. your hand covered your mouth as you gasped at the sight in front of you. he was hit so hard that he fell over as if he was a drunk man trying to walk after taking shots in the double digits. you wondered if he'd be able to get up; though he wasn't a fighter for you, he was definitely a fighter for himself. as the ref was about to call a stop to the match, he pushed himself up. a fire ignited in his eyes and he pushed himself to the max.

hamzah was now blocking every single punch thrown at him, as if he got into the mind of his opponent and could predict where he'd try to hit him. his punches seemed twice as strong, making his opponent wince and shrivel at each one thrown at him. before you knew it, the match was over

and hamzah won.

--

saying goodbye to your friends, you walked outside being met with freezing air. snow fell from the sky onto you and your surroundings; you soon came to the realization that you had to walk home in the cold as it snowed. not only did you have to walk in the cold, you also had to walk in the dark. you began to walk into the direction of your house until you felt a hand on your shoulder. thinking that rin forgot something in your purse, you turned around immediately. except, your eyes were met with hamzah's; he looked even better up close.

"are you really gonna walk home in the dark while it's snowing?"

you were confused on how he was able to talk to you as if he didn't smash your heart into pieces and leave you to fix it on your own. another part of you was upset at the fact that he was.

"yeah."

"no, let me drive you."

you scoffed, "hamzah, i really don't want to be alone in a car with you."

"you think i'd try anything?"

"i know you wouldn't, but that doesn't change anything. bye, hamzah."

you turned away once more, beginning to walk back to your house. until, his hand grasped your shoulder once more and softly swung you around.

"no, please," desperation was laced into his eyes, "please. it isn't safe."

you weighed your options: possibly freeze to death or get kidnapped and murdered, or endure the most awkward car ride of your life.

you chose the second option, not knowing what it would entail.

--

you didn't realize how far you walked until you realized it took you 20 minutes to get back to your house. you were about to exit the car with a simple "thank you" until hamzah locked the doors. you knew he wouldn't do anything bad, so the whole endeavor confused you and slightly irritated you. your ex currently locked you in his car, parked in front of your house. what the hell did he want?

"hamzah-"

"please, just talk to me for a little."

"why?"

his eyebrows furrowed, "because i missed you."

"oh, and i didn't?"

"let me expla-"

your voice became wobbly with emotion, "no, hamzah. stop. please, just let me leave."

you could hear the yearning in his voice as he spoke, "please. just listen to me, please- you don't have to forgive me or like me after you do but, please, just listen."

"fine."

"i fucked up. i fucked up the most that anyone could by losing you. i realized how serious things were getting and i was so scared that i'd be holding you back."

your voice became softer than the jaggedness you held in it each sentence you spoke to him.

"why would you be holding me back?"

"you deserve someone that could give you more than i could. i could never be enough for you and i'm sorry about that."

"so you just- you just fucking leave? not even, like, leave me but just dip from the relationship on your own terms? are you serious, hamzah? i thought you were smart, how could you do something this fucking dumb?"

he sighed, "i know i'm a fucking idiot. you can call me a fucking idiot. you can call me a moron. you can call me stupid- i don't care. i'm sorry- i'm so sorry. words will never be able to express how fucking sorry i am."

silence echoed in the space between you, eye contact being the only langauge being spoken. you didn't forgive him, but you weren't mad at him. you realized that his distance was only out of insecurity and miscommunication on his end. you didn't know how to feel; training yourself to hate him never worked and this made it even harder.

"you look different."

"i had to," he admitted, "every time i looked in the mirror, i'd think of you."

"what do you mean?"

"i'd fix my curls and run my hands through them and then suddenly, i got this feeling that my hands were actually yours."

"i'm not following-"

"i'd run my hands through my hair and pretend it was you. i'd touch my face and my arms and my chest and think about how you would. i physically couldn't look like me anymore or else i would keep on thinking about you."

"really?"

"even with new hair and a new body, i still think of you, so it was kinda useless."

"i think you look nice."

"really?"

"i feel the same as you, in a way, just without the physical altering," you admitted, "i think about you, still."

"what about me?"

you ran out of words to correlate to your thoughts. you were overwhelmed with all the emotion and loneliness you felt throughout the night. you didn't know what to say, causing you to take shaky, deep breaths as tears welled up in your eyes. you were going to wing it.

"i dunno, i guess i just- i thought i wasn't enough for you. i thought you hated me for the longest time because you never spoke to me and i just- i didn't know what i did wrong."

"no, baby, i could never hate you," hamzah put his arm over your shoulder, "i'm sorry. i'm so sorry- i never meant to hurt you."

"i spent so many nights just crying, hamzah, and now that i'm talking to you, i don't know how to feel."

"baby, i'm sorry. you didn't do anything wrong- i was an idiot and i messed up so bad. you don't deserve this."

"if you just told me you were feeling insecure about your spot in our relationship, you could've just told me."

"i should've, i know."

"i didn't want you to be perfect. i just wanted you."

hamzah's hand cupped your cheek, a familiar sense of love and nostalgia emerging out of his fingertips.

"do you still want me?"

"i never stopped wanting you."

the bridge between your lips connected after being apart for so long as he kissed you with desperation and passion intertwined inside of it. for the first time in months, the both of you felt complete again.

"baby, i know i messed up. i promise i'll make it up to you- but for now, i just want you back. i beat myself up everyday about losing you and i just- i can't take it anymore. i need you back more than i need air to breathe."

"hamzah, i don't want to get hurt again-"

"and you won't. please."

you saw the sincere look in his face as you scanned for any form of a lie. it was either to fall or to take a leap; so, you lept.

"no more boxing. i can't watch my boyfriend get hurt like that anymore."

--

author's note

i kinda hate this lowk but do we want more boxer!hamzah fics?? do i make this into a regular occurrence??

[parfaitblogs]

hii, can I please ask a blurb of post prison spencer and shy reader? And sometimes he teases her but not out of malice? Like when she talks about something and doesn't look at anyone in the eyes to focus on what she's saying (that's what I do) and he moves his head in her sight so their eyes meet?

spencer reid x shy!reader. fluff/comfort. 0.6k words. post prison reid. use of "sweet girl". 

a/n: i wrote this in like ten minutes tops because there is something sooo special to me about comfort spencer. i literally loved writing this. i was giggling and kicking MY OWN feet. i'm all for angsty!doesn't know how to accept love after prison spencer, but i also need us to start the movement of fluffy!literally worships the ground you walk on after prison because you show him so much love and support he doesn't know what else to do spencer. i love him and you for this request thank u

spencer reid who likes to listen to you talk when he gets out of prison, because talking sometimes seems like too much for him. who will sit down with you on the couch that is so perfectly moulded for your two bodies, and let you talk your entire way through whatever movie he agreed to watch for you because you always talk better when your eyes are fixated on a screen.

spencer reid who will wordlessly nod along when you start talking about your day when you're in bed together, using your rambling as a distraction from the things that keep him awake at night. whose hands will probably be running through your hair while you talk animatedly with your hands, eyes staring up at the ceiling.

spencer reid who will go into the bathroom with you because "showering alone is so boring" and "i need someone to talk to!" who will then sit outside the shower and listen to you talk some more, a shower curtain separating your two bodies as you stare at the tiled wall in front of you, hands preoccupied with shampooing your hair. spencer reid who will sit with you in his lap in the study, arms around your waist. who will answer your questions about prison because you say them with such a softness he learns he cannot keep secrets from you. and there are stars in your eyes that tugs at his heart strings every time something he says upsets you. whether it be the things he did to survive or something as mundane as his daily routine that was so vastly different to your own. and because you never look at him, but when he talks you do, and he would do anything to keep your eyes fixated on him for longer.

spencer reid who will then ask you a question about your own time alone whilst he was in prison, watching as you avert your eyes almost instantly from him, staring at whatever you could pretend was interesting behind him. who’d entangle a hand in your hair as you speak, you not thinking anything of it until he is tugging on it to pull your hair back – so, so gently, because you had learned that even after prison, he treats you with the care one would treat chinaware. spencer reid who will raise an eyebrow when you stare at him silently in confusion, convincing you to keep speaking, only to slide his hand from your hair on the back of your head to your jaw, fingers tilting your head towards him because "you keep looking away from me, sweet girl. stop it."

spencer reid who will be so confused when you stammer out a response, losing all ability to speak because he's looking at you like that and his eyes are boring holes into your own, and your heart is fluttering and you're flustered and he realises why you never look at him. and he thinks it is so funny because "i've been your boyfriend for how many years?" and you protest that he must be an awful profiler if he's never noticed this before. and so he will poke your sides until you're a laughing mess, and then he will get all serious and hold your face in place and tell you to continue, rewarding you with a kiss on some part of your face every time you manage to get a sentence out, until the reward is so nice you're rambling like you usually do, but this time you're looking at him and he is so, so in love with you and he has to actively fight the urge to kiss you every half a second. and screw prison and screw trauma, because for a brief moment he decides it was all worth it to get you right here, right now.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[piroulinewafers]

could u write something about hybrid puppy caleb being nasty as hell..(leaving this open, feel free to do whatever uw im open to anything). i love ur writing sm i cant stop sending asks BYEEE i was wondering if u take anons? if so can i be 💐? have a lovely day xx

𝐚/𝐧: i love puppy hybrid caleb... i dont think this is very "nasty" in the sense of the word, but i've been brainrotting about puppy waiter caleb for quite some time and maid day was a few days past so... i love writing for hybrids hehe. back in the day, there used to be this hq hybrid acc i was super into on here and i would frequent their page often heh. i kind of got distracted at the end but whatever its fine sighhh. thank you 💐 anon for giving me an excuse to write this 😋.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: puppy hybrid! caleb x fem! reader 𝐜𝐰: smut, overstimulation. 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: open.

it had started with a stupid comment.

she hadn’t meant it seriously— just an offhanded joke tossed to one of her friends while she and caleb were out buying groceries one evening, something about how those themed cafes with butlers or maid were always kind of… cute. silly. harmless

she hadn’t thought anything of it, merely a mention that they’d likely have a sale for the upcoming “maid day”. but caleb had heard.

he hadn’t said anything that night. just turned his head slightly, one ear twitching in the subtle way it did when he was paying attention to something he pretend not to be.

and now, somehow, here she was— standing in the their living room after returning home from work, door barely half-shut, blinking in stunned silence. 

frankly, it was suspicious. caleb was rarely quiet, especially not in the mornings. usually he greeted the day like it owed him something— loud yawns, half-buttoned shirts, big grins.

but today? silence. at least, until she finally spotted him.

there stood caleb, ears perking up at the sound of her entering the open-plan kitchen-living room space. 

the white button-up shirt he wore stretched across his chest, its collar messily done up, and the sleeves bunched up and slightly wrinkled like he had had been tugging at them nervously earlier. the pink pants were too fitted to be deemed anything close to comfortable in her eyes, the apron tied at his hips doing absolutely nothing to tame the broad frame it cinched in. it was pink and white plaid, with little ruffles along the hem and a small satin bow at the base of his spine, right above the soft wage of his tail. 

and, as if that wasn’t enough— frosting. a small, very deliberate smear of white on his cheek. 

he simply beamed.

“what are you wearing, caleb?” she finally asked, brows drawing into a confused furrow.

caleb tilted his head, hands innocently behind his back as his tail wagged a mile a minute. “it’s maid day,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “wasn’t that somethin’ you mentioned once? somethin’ cute?”

“you… remember that? were you eavesdropping?”

he stepped closer, ignoring her accusation entirely. “i made breakfast,” he said, proudly. “figured i’d serve it up like a proper house pup.”

she sat slowly, still stunned as caleb presented her a plate with surprising care: pancakes, stacked with melted butter and syrup dripping along the edges with a mound of frosting, beside a slightly too runny sunny side up egg.

he stood behind her once she started eating, arms crossed, watching eagerly.

“well?” he asked, tail twitching almost nervously, ears perking up against as he waited for her response.

“it’s good,” she said, voice muffled by a mouthful of pancake. “why’s the egg so— “

“don’t worry about it,” he interrupted, before she could ruin the moment. “it was just that stupid pan, but i tried real hard, so isn’t that all that matters?”

she could tell by the flicking of his tail that he was nervous, eagerly awaiting her response. 

there was another beat of silence as she took another bite— and that’s when caleb leaned in.

“by the way…” he said, practically purring, brushing a knuckle to his cheek. “i think i got a lil’ somethin’ right here. right there. frostin’. could you maybe…”

he trailed of, nudging his face toward her, ears twitching. 

she sighed. “you’re ridiculous.”

but she leaned up, gently brushing her thumb over the smear. that was all the permission he needed.

in an instant, caleb let out a pleased, puppy-like hum and nuzzled into her hand, rubbing his cheek against her palm before quickly shifting to lick it— one long, deliberate lap.

“caleb!” she gasped, trying to pull away, but he caught her easily, tail wagging wildly. 

“you said i was ridiculous,” he said, half laughing, half whining. “but you haven’t told me to stop.” he held her hand pressed to his cheek with two firm ones.

“your hands are so gentle,” he whispered. his eyes, flushed deep violet, looked up at her with a dangerous kind of devotion, all puppy-dog sincerity wrapped in pure, unadulterated, debilitating love. 

his tongue brushed along her cheek before she could speak. “you like this, don’tcha? you like it when i act dumb for you.”

“stop it— “ 

“but you were smilin’,” he said with a wicked grin. “saw it. you’re all flustered.”

she tried to push him off, but caleb was bigger. stronger. and annoyingly needy.

he whined again, low and soft in his chest, like she was about to leave him out in the cold. “c’mon, baby. just pet me a little. tell me i’m good. i dressed up and everythin’…”

his tail brushed across her legs as he leaned in closer, voice dropping. “i’ll do anything’….”

her heart kicked hard against her ribs.

the apron brushed against her knees as he grew close, his hands sliding around her waist, warm palms pulling her closer. “been thinkin’ about this all mornin’,” he admitted, half under his breath, “’bout you touchin’ me. praisin’ me. let me serve you properly. like a good waiter would.”

the air shifted between them. heated. 

he leaned in again, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “say i’m good. say it once and i’ll be the best pup you ever had.”

her hands found his hair, sliding between the soft space between his twitching ears. 

and when she finally spoke, low and soft, it broke something in him. 

“you’re such a good boy, caleb.” 

his breath caught. and then he growled— not in anger, but in something needier, more primal. 

she barely had time to register the shift before he leaned forward and kissed her— messy, eager, with the same urgency he gave to every part of his life. his ears twitched, on flopping forward as if to listen in on her heartbeat, his tail curling slightly behind him in its furious wagging. 

he didn’t stop at one kiss. caleb chased her mouth like he was starving, like she was the only thing in the would that could sate him. his hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him as he licked her bottom lip with a small, teasing flick— less polished, more instinctual. 

“i wore this dumb frilly thing just for you,” he mumbled against her lips, breath warm and quick. “didn’t think i’d like it, but… you lookin’ at me like that— “ he groaned softly, his forehead pressed to hers now. “say you like it. please. just say it.”

wide-eyed and breathless, she nodded slowly. “you… you look cute,” she whispered, barely audible. 

his whole body responded— ears perked, tail wagging in a blur. he lit up like a fuse, practically vibrating with joy, before dragging her down into another kiss, hands roaming but still restrained— just barely. 

“tell me i’m good again,” he muttered, mouth brushing against the curve of her jaw now. “tell me i’m good, please. woke up early to make you breakfast. got frosting’ on my cheek and didn’t lick it just so you’d touch me. all for you.”

his lips ghosted along her neck, needy and reverent. his breath hitching as she scratching behind his ears, a delight sound spilling past his lips.

“i’ll do anything— ‘m serious. i’ll behave, i’ll kneel, i’ll bark, i don’t care— just say it again.” 

the apron bunched around his waist as he shifted against her, still clinging, still pressing kisses anywhere he could reach. his tail thumbed again, half-wrapped around her ankle now and his ears twitching at every sound she made, every soft breath or sigh.

“i love you, caleb…”

eagerly in response, he licked her cheek without warning again— just a soft, eager swipe like it was the most natural thing in the world. “you taste sweet too.”

“caleb,” she said, a mixture between a laugh and an exasperated sigh.

“what?” he grinned, all mischief and love as he pulled back a bit to get a better look at her face. “you let me kiss you. now i gotta touch, gotta hold— gotta do somethin’ or i’m going to explode.”

gently, she cupped his cheeks, thumbing over the faint freckles on his face. she watched him tilt his head in her grasp, staring up at her with that smitten gaze of his. with a hum, she peppered sweet, feather-light kisses to his skin, finally giving into his pleas. 

she kissed him again, and again and he melted into every one— hot, soft, trembling with affection as he murmured, “love you, love you so much. let me show you. let me— “

his violet eyes gleamed with a mix of playfulness and barely restrained desire as he straddled her lap, his larger frame enveloping hers. 

the soft fabric of his pink pants stretched taught over his muscular thighs, the frill apron at his waist fluttered softly as he shifted his hips, grinding down against her pajama-clad bottom.

caleb’s breathing grew heavy as he nuzzled at her collarbone, nipping at the sensitive skin as he panted. he was painfully hard, his erection straining against the confines of his pants. the outline of his cock, complete with the distinct knot at the base, was clearly visible. he squirmed, leaning more of his weight against her, unable to contain the overwhelming urge to claim her, to make her his.

his fingers crept up under her shirt, pushing the fabric higher up her torso as he explored the soft skin beneath. he wanted to touch her, to feel every inch of her body against his own. 

“please,” he whined, his voice taking on a more canine-like timbre. “i’m so hard, i need to— fuck— “

his actions forced a sharp gasp to leave her, cold hands pressed against the bare skin of her stomach as she looked up at him, lips parted. 

she bit her lip, feeling the heat of caleb’s body pressed so urgently against her own. as much as she loved seeing him all dressed up just for her, she couldn’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed by his intensity, even though she was used to it to some extent. 

it was still so early, and her stomach grumbled with hunger, the half eaten eggs and pancakes calling her name while caleb rutted against her. “caleb, wait…” she started to protest, fingers curling into the collar of his shirt, trying to smooth the fabric and perhaps calm the manic energy radiating off of him.

but caleb seemed not to hear her, too lost in his own desperate need as he captured her wrists, pinning her hands above her head as he loomed over her, eyes wild and hungry. “please,” he growled, his voice a deep, resonant rumble that sent shivers down her spine this time. “i can’t wait anymore. i need you so bad…”

before she could voice any further objections, caleb had hoisted her up and then gently but firmly pushed her down onto the wooden floor. she let out a soft grunt as her back his the ground, the air leaving her lungs in a rush as she rubbed her back. 

“caleb, the floor is uncomfortable— “

any attempt at a complain fell on deaf ears, as caleb was already settling his weight on top of her, his hips neatly between her spread thighs. he rocked against her, his painfully hard cock straining against the confines of his pink pants as it chafed against her pajama bottoms. the knot at the base of his shaft pulsed and throbbed. 

she squirmed beneath him, cheeks flushed pink as she fettle heat of his desperation, the way his body trembled with the effort of holding back. “it’s too early, caleb, i didn’t even finish breakfast…”

his ears twitched and flattened back against his head as he leaned down to shut her up, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth, claiming her. his tail wagged frantically behind him, the long, fluffy appendage brushing against her thighs as he ground his aching cock against her core. he groaned into her mouth, the sound a mix of pleasure and frustration. 

“i know, i know,” he panted, breath hot against her neck as he nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin. “i’ll make it up to you, baby. i promise. i’ll spoil you rotten, just please— “he punctuated his words with a particularly sharp nip to her earlobe, sending sparks of pained pleasure through her.

caleb’s hands roamed her body greedily, pushing up under her pajama top again to expose the soft skin of her stomach and chest. he splayed his fingers wide, gripping her waist and rocking more insistently against her as he gazed down at her with burning eyes. 

his hands slid down to her pajama pants, fingers curling into the waistband as he tugged impatiently at the fabric. she knew she should protest more, should insist that he slow down, but the hungry, desperate look in his eyes stole her breath away. she gasped softly as he yanked her pants down, baring her lower half to his heated gaze.

the knot at the base of his cock throbbed almost painfully, straining against the fabric of his boxers and the tight confines of his pants. it rubbed deliciously against her clothed slit, the friction sending sparks of reluctant pleasure zinging up her spine. 

 his desperation reached a fever pitch, fingers clumsy in their urgency as he forced her panties to the side, , exposing the glistening folds to the cool air. the scent of her arousal filled his nose, making his head swim with lust.

still clothed in his straining pink pants, caleb tried to shove the right fabric down his thighs, panting harshly as he struggled to free his aching cock. the button and zipper fought against his desperate, trembling fingers until, with a final frustrated snarl, he ripped the fabric, tearing a gaping hole in the crotch of his pants. the ruined garment hung in a tattered state as he threw it to the side wtith his boxers, his throbbing erection springing free, bulbous knot at the base pulsing angrily.

she gasped at the sight, eyes widening. “caleb!” she scolded lightly, her cheeks flushing pink. “look at what you’ve done to your nice pants!” despite her words, there was a hint of amusement in her voice as she propped herself up on her , sitting up a bit.

caleb was too far gone, too consumed by his own need to care about ruined clothing. he shook his head, ears flopping as he gazed down at her with glazed, lust-filled eyes. drool dripped from the corner of his mouth, splattering onto her exposed clit, making it glisten obscenely and forcing a shaky sigh past her lips. 

“don’t look at me like that…” he grumbled, dejection clearly clinging to his words. 

he was left only in the frilly apron, still tied snugly around his waist, his fat cock tenting against the fabric and leaving an obscene damp spot in it's wake.

before she could offer any sort of response, caleb was rutting against her again, the swollen head of his cock kissing her entrance, smearing her arousal around her delicate folds. she gasped, back arching off the floor as he grunted and panted above her, hips moving in a frenzied rhythm.

he tried once, twice, each time clumsily trying to sink into her, but his cock kept notching against her hole and slipping out, rubbing against her folds on her thigh. 

then, with a single, powerful thrust, he drove forward, burying his thick, pulsing shaft into her tight, wet heat. she cried out, nails raking down his back as he split her own on his fat cock, knot catching on her entrance and tugging at her stretched flesh.

caleb set a relentless pace, hips slapping against her thighs with each desperate, needy thrust. the wet, obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by caleb’s grunts and growls of pleasure. 

he didn’t give her time to adjust, didn’t bother with gentle or slow. he just took her, claimed her, body driven by a primal, animalistic instinct. 

“i’m sorry,” he panted, his voice strained with exertion and ecstasy. “i’m sorry i didn’t prepare you better. ‘couldn’t wait any longer. fuck, you’re so tight, so perfect…” his words dissolved into a low, keening moan as he snapped his hips forward particularly hard, the head of his cock battering her cervix.

she could only cling to him, fingers digging into the muscles of his back, feeling them flex and tense with each powerful thrust. her legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his ass as he rutted into her, thick cock stretching her walls deliciously. she could feel every ridge, every vein, every throbbing inch of his shaft as he plunged in and out of her dripping cunt.

caleb’s ears stood tall and alert atop his head , swivelling and twitching with every sound and sensation. his tail brushed against her calves, wagging with wild abandon as he lost himself in the sensation of her tight, wet heat gripping his aching cock. 

his tail thumped against the the floorboards with reckless abandon, each thrust forcing more breathy moans past her lips, eyes screwed shut. 

“please, please… please look at me. look, look— “caleb whimpered, his breath coming in harsh, desperate pants against her neck. “i love you, i love you so fuckin’ much. i need to… i need to…” he couldn’t even finish his thought process, his hips twitching. 

“‘gonna knot you, yeah, can i?” he forced out, though they both knew that he wasn/t the type to wait for anyone’s permission before acting. 

his cock pulsed and jerked inside her as thick ropes of hot, sticky seed finally painted her inner walls.

she cried out, walls clamping down around him like a vice as she felt his release fill her up, her own orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave, body shaking and shuddering as she came hard on his pistoning cock. 

caleb’s body shuddered, muscles tensing as his knot swelled and notched in her. he let out guttural grown as he felt the bulbous flesh expand, tying them together as he squeezed his eyes shut, the sensation of being deeply, irrevocably bound to her sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain through his body. 

despite the discomfort of his knot stretching her to her limits, caleb couldn’t stop the instinctive need to rut, to claim, to mark his mate. his hips jerked and twitched erratically, his softening cock rubbing against her sensitive walls as he weakly humped into her, chasing the fading embers of his release. 

“can’t… can’t stop,” he panted harshly, his breath hot and moist against her neck. drool dribbled from his chin, splattering not her collarbone as he ground his pelvis against hers, his knot throbbing and pulsing inside her with each weak thrust.

she whimpered, her inner muscles fluttering and clenching around the thick obstruction lodged deep inside her. the sensation of being so utterly stuffed, of feeling caleb’s seed sloshing heavily inside her as he rutted into her, was intense and overwhelming. 

it was almost too much, the pleasure bordering on pain as her tender flesh struggled to accommodate his insistent movements.

she gasped out, her fingers digging into his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as she tried to anchor herself amidst the tempest of sensation. “it’s t-too much. you’re hurting me…” despite her words, she made no move to stop him, her body instinctively yielding to his claiming thrusts.

caleb just groaned in responses, hips giving a particularly sharp jerk as he buried his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply and lapping at the teeth marks he had left early. 

his body shuddered, muscles quivering with exertion as his hips seemed to jerk on their own, instinct-driven thrusts. he panted easily, breathing coming out in ragged gasps against her sweat-dampened skin. “sorry,” he grunted, voice strained. “I know i’m hurtin’ you, i just.. i can’t stop. fuck, it feels too good.”

he let out a low, agnozied groan as a particular jolt of discomfort shot through him, his knot twisting and tugging at her stretched, sensitive entrance, any attempt to pull out to thrust in any deeper stopped by his inflated knot.

“hurts… fuck, it hurts, but i can’t— “

finally, with a shuddered gasp, his body went limp, knees weak as he slumped forward, practically collapsed on top of her, pressing her into the floor. 

she let out a weak, breathless protest as she as she found herself pinned beneath him, still so intimately connected. she gently hit his shoulder with a closed fist. 

“ow, caleb, you jerk…” she whimpered, shifting her hips gingerly and wincing at the feeling of him inside of her. “you’re a bad dog, you need to learn how to control yourself and— oof!”

caleb suddenly rolled them over so that her body was splayed out on top of him, soft curves molding to the hard planes of his body.

he just pouted up at her, lips curling into a miserable frown. he looked so adorably sorry, looking up at her with those irresistible puppy dog eyes. “i know, i know,” he mumbled, his voice thick with guilt. “you don’t really think i’m a bad dog, do you? i just love you so much… i can’t help myself around you…”

he nuzzled into her neck once more, his nose brushing against her jawline as he breathed in her scent, still heavy with the musk of their coupling.

the room had gone quiet, save for the slow, steady rhythm of caleb’s breathing and the soft thump-thump of his tail against the floor. he lay sprawled on his back on the floor, cheeks flushed pink and the apron still bunched up around his waist, with her draped over his chest like she belonged there— and she did. his arms were wound tightly around her waist, fingers twitching now and then as if to remind himself she was real, she was here, and she was his.

he gave a soft, tired whine, muffled in her hair as he nuzzled the top of her head. “m’not lettin’ you go,” he mumbled, tail giving another lazy wag against the wood floor. “even if i could.”

she gave a sleepy huff of laughter, nose tucked against his collarbone, her legs tangled with his. “hm, is that so, puppy?”

that earned a pleased rumble from deep in his chest. his ears gave a lazy twitch, one flopping sideways as he smiled, dazed and dopey. he was still flushed, still panting just a little, but more than anything, he looked happy. puppy-happy. glowing with the kind of simple joy only he could manage after something so intense.

“you’re real warm,” he mumbled, cheek smushed into her temple. “perfect size. like a little blanket just for me.”

“you’re the heater here,” she teased weakly, but her voice was fond, her fingers lazily combing through his hair and brushing along the base of one ear. 

he let out a whuff of a sigh and arched into it, tail thumping a little faster now.

“spoilin’ me,” he murmured. “i’m going to get all needy if you keep that up.”

“you’re already needy as is,” she said, and he didn’t even deny it— just gave a dopey grin and licked her cheek again, soft and slow, like he couldn’t help himself.

“guess i am,” he said, his voice all gravel and sunshine, “but you like it. admit it.”

she rolled her eyes, but didn’t move. didn’t want to move. not with him still knotted inside her, not with his arms like iron around her and that soft, puppyish whine every time she shifted too far away. not with his tail brushing her calves and his thumb lazily stroking her lower back in slow, content circles.

“i like you like this,” she admitted finally, cheek resting over his heartbeat. “all clingy and warm. soft.”

his ears perked up, tail wagging harder now despite how tired he was. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

he made a soft, pleased wuff again, kissed the top of her head, and tightened his hold. “then i’m stayin’ like this forever. right here. with you. no one else gets you like this, alright? just me.”

she smiled into his skin, letting her eyes drift shut, wrapped in the arms of the world’s biggest, clingiest, most lovably infatuated puppy.

“so needy, caleb,” she hummed. she let out a soft sigh, pressing a kiss to his bare chest as she rested her cheek against him..

“just you.”

[luveline]

hi love! i absolutely adore ur writing and u should be so so proud of it. anyway i was just thinking about coworker james when readers car wont start in the parking lot and he like takes a look at it and is under the hood and reader is just like "oh...😍" cause the muscles are OUT and shes down bad

ty lovely 💌 fem

“Oh,” you say, “of course.” 

You drop your face into your steering wheel and sigh. An annoyed burst of sound, not cute or feminine or fun, a grunt of defeat. This sucks. Work sucks, life sucks, your car not starting is the least of your worries and yet somehow the most prevalent. 

How am I gonna get home? you think to yourself, defeated.

“Hey!” someone calls. Jogging, the last person you want to see in the world right now stopping at your door. James frowns at you. “It’s not starting?” 

You pop your door, careful not to pop him at the same time. “How’d you know?” 

“I heard the engine turn over.”

“It’s making a clicking sound,” you say, twisting the key so he can hear it. 

“It’s dead, probably. Your battery.”

James has an odd way of talking occasionally, as though you’ve started a conversation and he’s adding onto it. Remus says it's ADHD. You like it no matter what it is and despite yourself —it’s getting harder to pretend you don’t like him. Like, you hate him, he’s annoying beyond explanation, but your more positive feelings for him are heavy and ever present. So, so heavy.

“I’ll pull my car up and we can give it a jumpstart,” he says. “Easy fix.” 

“You don’t have to go?” 

“What?” 

“You have rugby today.” 

“Oh, no, it's the off season now.” He smiles and you don’t get why. “Let me go get the car.” 

James jogs back to his car and brings it next to yours. Everybody who isn’t Human Resources or security has left already, leaving the car park practically empty, ample room for him to park beside you. He gets back out. 

“I don’t have, uh, cables,” you say.

James gives you a smile that is as patronising as it is attractive. “Don’t worry about it, beautiful. I have everything you need.” 

He feels along the edge of your hood, pops the seal, pushes it up into the air, and hooks the prop rod into place. He’s clearly done it before, and the whole while you’re watching his arm. His rolled sleeves draw attention to the tightness at his bicep, and the moving ligament and muscle of his tricep as he leans into the engine to look things over. “I’m no mechanic, but I do know everything, and I thought maybe things were a bit hot but your engine’s stone cold.” 

“So it’s definitely the battery?” 

“Probably.” He scratches his jaw, peering curiously into the guts of it all. “When was the last time somebody looked in here?” he asks, squinting at you, unaware that he’s the finest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Your breath gets caught. 

“Have you ever had it looked at?” he asks, concerned. 

“I… maybe I did. I think so.” 

“You’re supposed to have it looked at every year? For MOT?” 

“I know, I thought you meant before that.” He’s distracting.

James looks you over. “It’s fine,” he says emphatically, “even if I can’t fix your battery, I can still drive you home. You’re panicking for no reason.” 

“Right.” Panicking! Yes, this is panic.

“Listen, can you get the jump leads from my boot? I have to open the hood.” He gestures for you to go. You do as he’s asked, wobbly, and struggle when you get there to actually open it. You slides your fingers under his car's emblem and flinch as it flies up past your face. 

His boot is surprisingly well organised. There’s a duffel bag to one side half-zipped that showcases a flash of red and white uniform, a pair of formal shoes, a dark jacket folded and hidden behind the bag. You want to be nosey and you don’t want him to think you’re stupid. You rush to grab the cables and almost clip yourself on the boot as you duck from under the boot and round the car. 

James smiles when he sees you. No indication that you’re an imposition, it’s sort of like you’re two friends. 

He pushes his sleeves farther up and digs in. It’s awful, what business does he have looking so sharply put together? You hadn’t thought you were preferential to muscle until right this moment watching James move around your engine like an expert. 

“What are your plans tonight?” 

Your palms are hot behind your back. “I was thinking I’d watch a new movie.” 

“That sounds fun.” He ducks away from the engine. “I don’t watch many movies.”

“What do you do with all your time?” 

“Argue with Sirius about who’s turn it is to wash the dishes.” 

You startle. “You and Sirius live together?” 

James laughs and pulls the leads to his own engine. “You didn’t know that?” 

“You come in different cars.” 

“I come in much earlier than he does. And after work he and Remus always have things to do. It’s weird, isn’t it, how couples are always busy? I feel like I never do anything.” James grins at you. “This is interesting, at least. My Friday night isn’t a total waste.” 

James gets into his car and you into yours. With some fiddling, pleading, and a strange noise, he manages to push life back into your car. His smile when it works is his worst one to date, elated and shockingly handsome. 

That Monday, against your better judgement, you bring him a little carrot cake in a tin. A thank you card felt like too much. 

To his credit, he doesn’t brag to anyone that he saved you. He says thank you for the cake with another real smile, and for some reason, despite the mild weather, he rolls his sleeves up at his desk. Almost like he noticed you…

Well, he couldn’t have. Right?

[grayandthyme]

we'll snuff out like fire ;

tommy miller x f!reader

Request: You hear the whispers—your lover lost his brother, how the girl you care for shut down. But when she moves like nothing happened, sneaking out with Dina, you follow them to Seattle. Tommy ensures you pay the price for stepping out of line. Warnings: SMUT. MDNI. No use of y/n. Reader undisclosed age. Mentions/descriptions of violence, death, and gore. Very maternal reader. Established mentor-like relationship with Dina and Ellie. Tommy is upset. Reader is equally as upset. Makeup sex. Unprotected pinv. Doggy. He fucks u against a wall... Undescriptive creampie.

for the lovely elara, <3 thank you for requesting @astraljedi

join the taglist.

♫ heat lightning - mitski

Your fingertips tapped an uneven rhythm against the scarred wood of the Tipsy Bison's bar. The quiet knock-knock-knock nearly lost beneath the ambient murmur of dinner hour. Jesse was rambling beside you—something about patrol rotations with Tommy, or maybe a new watchtower route—but his words blurred into background static.

Your focus had drifted elsewhere.

Across the room, Ellie sat hunched over a plate she hadn’t touched, shoulders taut beneath her hoodie. Dina was leaned in close beside her, whispering, her hand twitching near the hem of Ellie’s sleeve. Every so often, they both cast a glance toward the kitchen—toward Seth. Toward something.

It didn’t sit right with you.

Ellie hadn’t left her room in days. She’d been a ghost, a locked door and a muffled silence since the makeshift funeral. And now, suddenly, she was here—sitting in the corner of the bar, speaking low and fast like time was running out.

Your stomach twisted.

“…and Tommy said we might get hit with rain tomorrow, so I told him—hey, you good?” Jesse’s voice cut in, finally noticing your distance.

You hummed a distracted reply, eyes still trained on the pair across the room.

Something was wrong.

You didn’t know what yet—but you were going to find out.

“Just because Tommy loves me doesn’t mean I can twist his arm about patrol routes,” you murmured, eyes flicking toward Jesse. You tried to keep it light—playful, teasing—but the words rang hollow in your mouth.

He didn’t pick up on it. Or maybe he did and just let you have the out.

You leaned back, sighing as you nursed the warmth of the coffee mug between your hands, even though the liquid inside had gone cold. Your gaze drifted again—always, relentlessly—to the corner table.

Ellie had stopped pretending to eat. She was just staring down now, brow furrowed in thought while Dina talked low and fast, her hand cupped around her drink.

Both of them were a little too alert, their bodies too coiled.

Like they were waiting for a signal.

Something was off. You knew it at this point. Practically confirmed.

If you said something—if you told Jesse that Ellie hadn’t spoken to you in a week, hadn’t so much as looked you in the eye since Joel’s death, and now was suddenly conspiring in corners with Dina—it would break whatever delicate thread was still binding you to her.

To them.

And if you told Tommy… if you went to him with this?

There’d be no stopping what came next.

You loved her. Ellie. Like a sister. Like a daughter. Like someone whose fire you’d seen sputter and still tried desperately to keep alive.

You just want to do right.

At least two days had gone by.

Two days of subtle watching. Of quiet steps and careful glances, pretending you were just passing through the stables or the mess hall, when really, you were tracking them like prey.

It felt ugly.

Worse, it felt necessary.

You’d seen enough now to piece it all together—how Ellie and Dina lingered by the supply room longer than they should’ve, how food that didn’t perish was quietly lifted in small batches. How ammo was skimmed from the armory, just low enough to not trigger suspicion. How they'd begun tucking patrol rifles into their horse’s saddlebags, hidden beneath blankets and feed sacks.

They were going to fucking Seattle.

Your chest ached with the weight of it, like your ribs were bracing for something to crack. You wanted to tell Tommy—every hour that passed, you felt it clawing at your throat.

But what would that do? What would it fix?

He’d try to stop them. Of course he would. And if he couldn’t, he’d go after them himself—angry, impulsive, grieving. Just like Ellie.

And you’d lose him, too.

So you swallowed the guilt like poison. Let it rot in your stomach. Because this wasn’t about choosing sides. It was about saving what was left of your family, and praying to whatever was still listening that it didn’t cost you everything in the process.

That night, you sat in the dim glow of your shared bedroom, boots still on, jacket unzipped, staring at the floor as Tommy paced.

He was talking—something about the next patrol schedule, who was going to shift into rotation—but you weren't really hearing him.

He stopped.

“Hey.” His voice was low, serious. “What’s goin’ on in that head?”

You looked up, mouth dry, “Nothin' … Just tired.”

It was the first lie you'd told him… ever, really.

And it hurt worse than you thought it would.

Tommy watched you for a long moment, one hand braced on the dresser, the other rubbing at the side of his neck like he could smooth the worry out of his spine. Though it never worked.

He was tired too—you could see it in the slope of his shoulders, the way his holster still hung loose around his hips like he hadn’t noticed it was there.

Like, since it happened, he wanted to sleep with it.

The day had worn on him, but not as much as the last few weeks had.

“You sure?” he asked, quieter now, like maybe he already knew you were lying and was giving you the space to fix it.

You nodded. Too fast.

“Yeah. Just… lot on my mind, s’all.”

He sighed and crossed the room, lowering himself beside you on the edge of the bed. His hand found your knee, warm and calloused and steady—always steady, when the rest of the world tilted sideways.

You leaned into him automatically, pressing your cheek to the side of his arm.

You didn’t deserve how good he was to you. Not tonight.

But he didn’t know. And he didn’t ask again.

Because that’s the kind of trust you’d built. And that’s exactly why it was killing you.

You tilted your face up to him, managing a small smile, and his expression softened—some part of him still melting at the sight of you, even after all the scars and years.

“You know I love you, right?” you murmured.

Tommy chuckled, brushing your hair back, his fingers careful as ever. “You better. I been runnin' this town like I’m tryna impress you all over again.”

You laughed—real, for a second. And God, it made the guilt sting deeper.

“I do,” you whispered, “I love you so damn much, Miller.”

His brow furrowed slightly at your tone, but he didn’t press. Just leaned in and kissed your temple, lips lingering longer than usual, like he could feel something shifting but didn’t know what it was.

You let him hold you that night. You let him trace little circles into your back with the pad of his thumb. And when his breathing slowed, chest rising and falling in the rhythm of sleep, you stared at the ceiling—wide awake, spine coiled tight.

Because tomorrow Ellie and Dina would be gone.

And you’d be right behind them.

Unfortunately. their trail wasn’t subtle.

Even if you hadn’t known what to look for, the fresh hoofprints in the half-frozen mud and the trampled frost told you everything. One horse is missing from the stable.

It didn’t take more than fifteen minutes to catch their rhythm.

Seth had let them out. Of course he had.

There’d be hell to pay for that. You could already hear Tommy’s voice—the sharp edge of it, all gravel and fury—as he tore Seth a new one.

You almost pitied the man. Almost. But not quite.

For now, you kept your distance. A mile, maybe two. Close enough to keep a line on them, far enough not to be seen. The cold air gnawed at your fingertips through the reins, and the sky had that winter-gray dullness that made everything feel heavier.

It wasn’t until your horse crested the ridge past the old pasture that you saw them.

Two figures, stopped just beyond the wooden fence line, where the land dipped low into a grove of wind-stripped trees.

Your breath caught.

Joel.

The air thickened in your chest, something ancient and sorrowful. Of course they would come here before the road.

Before the war. One last visit. One last goodbye.

Your horse shifted beneath you, restless, as if it could feel the grief in your bones.

You didn’t dismount.

You didn’t need to get closer.

Instead, you watched—quiet, still—while Ellie knelt at the stones, Dina standing just behind her, a hand hovering like she wanted to touch but didn’t know how.

You swallowed the knot in your throat.

They weren’t just running away from Jackson.

They were running toward him.

You took a breath, let it burn down your lungs like whiskey, then turned your horse toward the path again. You had to give them time. Just a little longer. Then you’d follow.

Because no matter how far they went, you’d never be far behind.

Not when Tommy was still in the dark.

Not when Joel was still in the dirt.

━━━

Dina noticed you first. No surprise there.

She’d always been sharp, wired for survival in a way that didn’t make her hard—just alert. Wiser than her years. You’d taken a liking to her long before this mess, half-joking once that if she weren’t so damn independent, you would’ve twisted Tommy’s arm to bring her under your wing.

She didn’t flinch when she saw you, just narrowed her eyes, the faintest twitch at her jaw.

"You won't make it a day in Seattle acting this recklessly," you said, voice low and even as you stepped from the hang of the tree.

Both girls stiffened. Their hands dropped from the grips of their weapons, not out of ease, but in recognition.

Of you.

You weren’t here to threaten them. Not really.

You stepped forward slowly, the leaves crunching beneath your boots, and stopped a few feet away.

Ellie’s mouth opened—whether in protest or guilt, you couldn’t tell. Her face had paled, but her eyes were stubborn, gleaming under the overcast sky like glass about to crack.

"How long?" you asked, not angry.

Just tired. Just worn down.

"Two weeks," Dina answered first. Quiet, but not ashamed. "We've been planning it for two weeks."

Ellie bristled, but didn’t speak. Her knuckles were white where they clenched the strap of her pack.

“Does Tommy know?” Dina asked, her voice low, almost wary, as she guided your horse toward the tack.

“No.”

"I promise."

You didn’t elaborate. Didn’t need to.

Ellie shot you a look sharp enough to cut, “You haven’t told your almost fuckin’ fiancé?”

She said it like it was treason.

And maybe it was.

The word fiancé hung heavy in the air—sacred, intimate, too clean for what you felt now. He hadn’t pushed for anything official, hadn’t said now or soon. He just wanted you with him.

Forever, if the world allowed.

But you hadn’t told him.

Not about Ellie. Not about Dina. Not about Seattle.

And it felt like a betrayal stitched under your skin, pulsing hot with every step you took closer to letting them go.

He probably already knew you were gone.

Waking up for morning patrol to an empty bed.

“You think I didn't want to tell him?” you asked, voice taut. “You think I don’t wake up every day knowing what kind of man he is? What kind of man I’d be risking if he followed your stupid fuckin' asses?”

Ellie opened her mouth, but Dina placed a hand on her arm. It was like a conversation without verbals.

"I'm going with you."

It slipped from your lips in a breathless hush, the weight of it settling like dust in the stillness. Dropping your pack to the ground beside theirs, the thud echoed louder than you'd meant.

"Whether you like it or not."

The forest around you seemed to still, the distant rustle of leaves and wind nothing compared to the storm coiling in your stomach.

"You promised," Ellie said after a long beat, quiet but sharp. “You swore you wouldn’t drag anyone else into this.”

You exhaled, steadying your voice.

“And I’m not. I’m walking in beside you.”

Ellie laughed, dry and bitter. “You think Tommy’s just gonna let that slide? When he finds out where you are?”

“I’m not doing this for Tommy,” you cut in, your voice low and level. “I’m doing this because I won’t let you walk into this alone.”

There was a silence—tired, heavy silence. The kind that meant you all knew the shape of what was coming, and knew it wouldn't be kind.

They're scared.

Frankly, so are you.

“Look,” you exhale, low and steady, the weight of the words pressing against the cold air. “When I first walked into Jackson, this place—it felt like home. And then I met Tommy. He felt like home.”

You shift slightly, eyes flicking to their tent, half-pitched and swaying in the restless breeze—fragile, but standing.

“And you—both of you—feel like home, too.”

Your voice softens, but every syllable carries a fierce certainty.

“I’d be losing a piece of myself if I didn’t go out there and try to protect you.”

Ellie looks away again, but you catch the glimmer of something.

Something almost like relief.

There’s no argument now, only the hard, fragile bond of blood and choice.

SEATTLE DAY 3

“Fuck—fuck—fuck,” Dina hissed through clenched teeth, the words tumbling from her mouth like a broken record. Her leg kicked instinctively, but your hands were already firm—one pressing down on her thigh to slow the bleeding, the other cradling her hip to keep her grounded.

The arrow was still lodged in deep—no exit wound, no clean break. Just ragged pain. Shit.

“I know, … I know,” you murmured, your voice trembling with the effort to stay calm, to sound like safety even when everything around you was falling apart.

Your eyes flicked toward the boarded theatre doors—shadows stretching and shifting with every sound beyond the wall.

Ellie and Jesse were gone.

Vanished into the dark without a goddamn word, leaving you to tend the bleeding girl with nothing but a half-stocked med kit and the echo of her cries.

“Where the fuck did they go,” you muttered under your breath, voice low and sharp like a blade unsheathed.

Not angry. Not really. Just scared in that deep way you couldn’t show—not with Dina looking up at you like you were the last bit of steady ground she had left.

The theatre lights flickered overhead, humming with weak electricity. You felt the dust cling to your sweat-slick skin, the dampness in the air from the sealed-off walls closing in.

“Okay, you’re gonna breathe for me now, yeah?” you whispered, brushing the hair from her forehead, even as your hands were stained with her blood. “In, out. Count with me.”

Her grip tightened around your wrist, her knuckles white with pain.

“I’ve got you,” you said again, quieter now, like a prayer. Then, more to yourself: “And when Ellie gets back, I’m gonna wring her little neck.”

A pause, then a huff from Dina—a half-laugh, broken and breathless.

“There she is,” you smiled faintly, pressing your forehead to your forearm for a heartbeat before you reached into your bag.

“Hold still, babygirl. We’re getting through this."

And you meant it.

Even if you had to tear the whole world apart to do it.

You crouched lower, your knees aching against the moist carpet, breath shallow as your fingers hovered just above the arrow’s entry point.

The shaft jutted from Dina’s thigh, slick with blood and trembling each time she whimpered.

There was no scalpel. No sterile field. The tin of supplies was down to rusted scissors and half a bottle of alcohol.

This was going to be brutal.

Your hand steadied the arrow. The other braced her leg.

“Dina…” you started, voice a low thread of calm wrapped in exhaustion. “I have to pull it, okay? There’s no other way—If I leave it in, it’s going to poison you from the inside out.”

You tried to speak gently.

Tried to carry softness in your tone like it might cushion the truth—but the second she realized what you meant, her panic overtook her.

“No—please, don’t let me die—I can’t—I can’t—” Her hands scrabbled against the floor, against your wrist, against the air. Her breath caught in her throat, eyes wide with fear.

You moved fast, crawling up beside her and cupping her cheek with a blood-warm hand. “Look at me,” you said, urgent now. “Right here, eyes on me.”

She blinked, her pupils blown wide.

“You’re not going to die. Not on my watch. Not in this theatre. You hear me?”

A pause. Her breath stuttered.

“That’s my girl,” you whispered, nodding, trying to ground both of you. “Now hold on to me. Bite down if you have to.”

You reached into your coat pocket, pulled out the rag you’d been using to keep your hands dry, and gently offered it to her.

“Use this. Scream into it if you need to.”

She took it with shaking hands, her lips already parted in dread.

You braced her thigh again. Drew in a breath.

“Three,” you said softly. “Two—”

You didn’t wait for one.

The arrow came out with a sickening wet sound, torn muscle giving way beneath your fingers. Dina let out a strangled scream, her whole body convulsing in your arms. You threw the arrow aside and immediately pressed gauze—what little you had—against the wound, applying pressure with everything you had left in you.

Her screams faded into broken sobs.

You didn’t speak for a long time. Just held her as the blood slowed, your hands trembling now too.

When she finally stopped crying, you stroked a thumb beneath her eye and whispered, “You did it. You’re here. Still with me.”

And though she didn’t say it, her grip around your arm said everything you needed to hear.

Though the world outside was still a war zone. Ellie and Jesse were still out there chasing ghosts. But in this flickering, blood-stained theatre, you were someone’s safe place.

And that had to be enough—for now.

After what felt like hours—your hands sticky with old blood, your knees stiff and sore—you finally wrapped the last strip of cloth around Dina’s thigh. The wound still wept a little, but the bleeding had slowed. She was pale, quiet now, drifting in and out of a fevered sleep against a backstage dressing room cot you’d thrown together with old coats and torn curtains.

You sat with her until her breathing evened out, brushing damp hair from her face, whispering promises she probably couldn’t hear: I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’m right here.

But then the theatre groaned, and something shifted.

You stood slowly, pistol already warm in your palm. The door—barely barricaded, creaking against the night wind—stood like a challenge. The silence outside felt wrong. Too quiet. Like a breath held too long.

Then—footsteps.

Fast. Familiar.

You didn’t even have time to raise your gun before Ellie and Jesse burst in, panting and soaked through, rain trailing down their necks.

But it wasn’t them your eyes locked on.

Tommy.

Jesse had never told you that's who he brought.

He stood in the doorway, backlit by pale grey light, coat dripping, rifle slung low across his chest. You could see it before he even opened his mouth—anger clinging to him like a second skin.

Cold. Alive. Unforgiving.

You froze. The words stuck in your throat.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, stepping inside, boots heavy on the warped floor. “I had to hear from them that you were in Seattle? That you lied to me? That you followed them out here like some goddamn fuckin' idiot?”

“Tommy—” you started, voice small and broken already.

“No. No—you don’t get to speak first.” His voice cracked like a whip. “You lied to me. You. The one person I thought I could count on to be straight with me.”

Ellie and Jesse stayed silent, watching the unravel happen from the sidelines, rain still dripping from their sleeves.

“I couldn’t tell you,” you said finally, stepping forward just once, slowly. “Because if I had… You would’ve stopped me.”

“You’re damn right I would’ve.” His eyes were blazing now, jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle twitch. “You were supposed to be safe. You were supposed to wait for me to make a decision.”

“Your brother died, Tommy,” you hissed. “You think I was gonna sit in Jackson and bake pies, and knit while the people I love walked straight into hell?”

Almost immediately, "And you think I need to lose you too?!"

It was loud. Echoed through the entire building.

The hurt in his expression sliced through the anger just long enough for you to see it: guilt, grief, the kind of ache that never sets right in a man’s bones

And still—he looked at you like he didn’t recognize you.

“I thought you were dead,” he said, voice lower now, hoarse. “Every fucking day since you left, I thought I’d find your body strung up by those freaks, or rotting in some back alley. You know what that did to me?”

He looked away.

“Upstairs,” you said quickly, voice low and clipped, already moving toward the staircase that led to the mezzanine.

You didn’t wait to see if he followed.

The creak of the steps beneath your boots was the only sound between you. That, and the distant static of Jesse’s walkie-talkie downstairs. When you reached the upper level, the silence cracked.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Tommy’s voice cut through the dark like a rifle shot. “Jesus Christ, you really went and followed ‘em?”

You turned to him. “What did you expect me to do? Let them walk into hell alone? Let you come out here and—”

“No.” His jaw clenched, and he stepped forward. “I expected you to stay. I expected you to protect what we built. I expected you to be there when I got back.”

“You think I didn’t want to?” you shot back, heat rising in your throat like bile. “You think this was some fucking joyride?”

“I don’t give a damn if it was a funeral march!” he barked. “You promised me. You promised me, and then you left like it meant nothin’!”

“It meant everything!” you shouted, stepping into him. “It meant I couldn’t watch them die too!”

He flinched like the words slapped him. Your chest rose and fell violently, heart pounding in your ears, “Joel died, Tommy."

"He fucking died, and we’ve all been tearing at the seams since.”

He looked away, shoulders tight, breathing hard.

That undid something.

“I had to go,” you whispered, voice cracking. “If I stayed, I would’ve broken into a hundred pieces. You—You don’t get to be the only one with grief in your bones.”

“You think I don’t know that?” he snapped, eyes glossy, teeth clenched like he was holding something back. “You think I haven’t woken up every goddamn night reachin’ for you?”

Your face twisted at the words.

He took a breath, like he was steadying himself.

“I was scared,” he said, quieter now, but no less angry. “Not of the WLF, not even of those damn cultists. I was scared I’d lose you, and I wouldn’t even be there to say goodbye.”

That landed.

Fuck.

You crossed your arms, holding yourself steady, “I’m right here.”

“For now,” he said bitterly, voice shaking. “But for how long?”

You stepped toward him again, slower this time, your voice tender despite the storm in it.

“I didn’t leave you. I followed them because they needed me. Just like you would’ve.”

Tommy laughed. It was cold. Hollow. Nothing like the man you used to curl up with in front of the fireplace. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he spat. “Don’t you put me in the same breath as what you did.”

“What I did?” your voice cracked, turning sharp, “You think this was easy? You think I just packed my shit and skipped out of Jackson with a smile on my face?”

“You left without a word,” he said, stepping in. “You left me. You lied. To my fuckin’ face.”

“I had to!”

“No, you didn’t!” he exclaimed, stepping so close your chests nearly brushed. “You just didn’t trust me.”

“That’s not true.”

You could feel the anger simmering under your skin.

“The hell it ain’t!” His voice was thunder now, echoing against the empty theatre walls. “You didn’t even give me the chance to say no. To say anything. You decided you knew better."

"Like always.”

You shoved at his chest, hard.

“Because you would’ve stopped me!”

“Damn right I would’ve!” he shouted. “Because I love you!"

"Because I couldn’t take losing you too!”

The silence after that was vicious.

Not soft, not comforting. Just ringing.

You fucked up.

You knew that deep, and fleshed out.

"I love you," It came out deep, breathless, like it had torn a hole in your chest just to leave your lips.

"I love you so fucking much."

Tommy didn’t answer. Didn’t breathe, didn’t blink.

Just stared at you like he wanted to yell or throw something—or maybe fall to his knees and beg for time to rewind.

Then, suddenly, he moved.

One hand was in your hair, the other grabbing your waist so tight it almost bruised, and then his mouth crashed into yours.

No patience. No sweetness. Just teeth and desperation and too many sleepless nights spent hating the distance between you. The whole four days.

You gasped into him, fingers digging into his jacket, pulling him closer like you could anchor yourself in the wreckage of him.

It was violent—the way your mouths moved against each other, like a fight without fists, like you'd been waiting weeks to tear each other apart and this was the only language you still knew how to speak.

“Fuck you,” he growled into your mouth, hands shoving you back against the mezzanine wall, his breath hot against your cheek.

“You came all the way out here, didn’t you?” you bit back, tugging him down by his collar, lips brushing his.

He kissed you again, harder this time—nothing tender, just fury and need and that sharp edge of grief that never seemed to dull. You groaned against him, back arching into the wall as his hands mapped the curve of your waist, gripping, grounding, like he could crush the betrayal out of his own lungs.

Hands underneath fabric, frantic and rough. Bruises from fingers pressed too hard, teeth catching lips too sharp.

You didn’t care. Neither of you did.

You’d both lost too much to ask for softness.

He broke first, forehead pressed against yours, panting like he’d just been in a shootout. “You fuckin' wrecked me,” he said, voice shredded.

And you kissed him again, even harder this time—because you both knew this might be the only way you’d survive each other.

His hands moved to your shirt, undoing the buttons with ferocious intent, uncaring of the fact that the girls you had practically helped raise were only a floor below you. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps between the crash of mouths.

“You think this fixes it?” Tommy rasped against your neck, voice thick with anger, teeth grazing the bruise blooming at your jaw. “You think this makes up for you leavin’ me behind, thinkin’ you were dead somewhere in this hellhole of a city?”

You leaned up to kiss him just as hard as he talked, because you needed him to know you hadn’t fallen out of love with him—you’d just been burning in its silence.

His hands found your belt, fingers working the worn leather loose with swift, practiced intent. It slipped through the loops with a slow hiss, unspooling like breath between clenched teeth—until he yanked it free and let it fall, forgotten, to the floor.

“Turn around—”

"Bend over.

It came out rough. Hoarse. A command, not a question. Nothing of the man who kissed your forehead at dawn or teased you with whip-creamed slick fingers at breakfast.

No—this wasn’t Tommy wrapped in warmth. This was him stripped down to his marrow. A man burning with too much love, too much fury, too little time.

This wasn’t about gentleness.

This was about need. The kind born from war echoing in the distance and the knowledge that peace is always borrowed, never owned.

About staking a claim in the only safe place he’s ever known—you.

Here, in the hollow of a mezzanine doorway, with the world outside teetering on the edge of collapse, he held you like a last prayer.

There was no performance. No pretending.

Just a man who had survived too much and still chose to love like this—fierce, unrelenting, and all in.

“Tommy—” you started, voice catching on the weight of it. But the look he gave you—

God.

It hollowed you out, stripped the fight clean from your bones. That look didn’t ask. It ached.

“This doesn’t fix the problem—” you tried again, even as your body betrayed you, leaning in, breath stuttering.

But he was already there—so close his breath tangled with yours, lips not touching but hovering, like he didn’t trust the moment to hold if he moved too fast.

“You got a fuckin’ solution, then?” he murmured, low and splintered. Somewhere below, you heard the soft clink of his belt buckle—quiet, final. You swallowed hard, nerves pulling tight.

And then he said your name.

Not casual. Not soft. He said it like a confession—like every syllable dragged sin out from his lungs.

Like the way he said it the first time. The night he crumbled in your arms saying he loved you.

“Tell me,” he whispered, “… tell me that feelin’ you come apart in my hands ain’t gonna fix somethin’. Even if it’s just for a minute.”

His voice almost cracked into a smile. But it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Tell me if I make you scream my name, I won’t believe—just for a second—that you’re still here. That I won't lose you.”

His gaze was burning now, unblinking, like if he dared look away you might vanish into the next loss.

“That I got time left. That I ain’t already lost you.”

He swallowed hard, jaw flexing, every breath shaking loose from somewhere buried deep.

“That I don’t gotta bury you too.”

Now, as he stands before you—scared, desperate, begging without pride—you realize the danger isn’t in loving him.

It’s in the thought of ever having to live without him.

“Yeah,” you breathe, voice steadier than your heart. “I… need you.”

He stirs—not in body, but in something quieter, deeper. A flicker behind his dark eyes, calculating. Weighing. His gaze snaps toward the row of half-folded theater seats, now ghostly in the low light.

A step back. Then another. His eyes rake over you, still burning with that same relentless heat he’s worn like a second skin for the past thirty minutes. Deliberate, he turns, moving toward the seats. One broad hand spreads over the velvet cushion, pressing it down with a controlled grace. His chin tilts—an invitation. Or a command.

“Knees here,” he murmurs, voice rough with restraint.

“Face down. Ass up.”

A startled laugh slips from you—quiet, breathy, incredulous.

He can't be serious.

“You’re joking.”

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak.

That silence—so complete, so unwavering—is the answer.

He’s serious.

Heat floods your face, blooming down your neck, across the delicate tips of your ears. You’re burning. Embarrassment crackling just beneath the skin.

This feels exposed. Laid bare in his gaze. Too open. Too visible.

Too wrong.

And yet… it coils low in your belly—right.

You hesitate only for a heartbeat. One last glance at the cracked door down the hallway. Then back to him.

And then you move.

A few tentative steps. A breath caught in your throat. A knee pressed to the worn cushion. The rustle of fabric and nerves.

He’s unhurried—deliberate—as he reaches for you. His hands already at your waist, anchoring you. Guiding you.

Slow. Certain.

“You’re gorgeous.”

The words are quiet, almost reverent, spilling from his lips like a confession. His hands shift from your waist, finding the edge of your jeans. Fingers curl, drag, tug—slowly peeling the fabric down your thighs.

The air hits you like a snap of winter.

Skin prickling. Every nerve lit with cold.

The seat’s metal edges dig into your calves—unforgiving, near bruising. But you stay. Let it press. Let it mark. It angles your body forward, bends you in offering.

And there you are—bare, open, arranged before him.

He guides you down with a gentleness that contradicts the sharpness of the moment. One hand at your spine, coaxing you into a deeper arch. The edge of the adjacent seat bites into your midsection—unyielding, coiled pressure digging in.

He doesn’t rush. His touch drifts lower, tracing the heat that pulses between your thighs.

His fingers linger—barely there. Not giving. Just knowing.

“For a woman who just screamed at me,” he breathes, voice low and amused, “…you’re awfully excited, huh?”

“Tommy—” you warn, breath catching, but he’s already there—pressing the tip of his cock against you, a ragged exhale slipping between clenched teeth.

“I’m kidding—” he murmurs, the words meant to disarm, to soften—“Fuck, sweetheart.”

The push is deliberate. Low. Slick. He moves slowly, savoring every inch as he slides in, like he wants to memorize the feeling.

Your head dips forward, jaw tightening to trap the rising whine, the overwhelming fullness. One arm lifts blindly, bracing against the cold metal of the chair, your forearm muffling the wet, trembling sound that escapes.

“Fuck,” he rasps, shifting forward, body heaving to find a deeper angle. “I—”

He falters—genuinely falters—for the first time since you’ve known him, words catching like breath in his throat.

His hips draw back, then roll forward—measured, indulgent. Not brutal. Not frantic. Just slow, deliberate depth. His grip is unrelenting, palms anchored as he pulls your hips into each thrust. It isn’t him moving anymore—it’s you, guided and used, rhythm dictated by his hands, and brain alone.

Your fingers stretch forward, then curl tight—white-knuckled—into the fabric of the next theater seat. The sharp sound of skin meeting skin echoes through the closed space, amplified by its hollowness.

You can’t feel the room. Can’t process the world outside this moment. You're buried in sensation, in the obscene fullness of him, your thoughts unraveling—reduced to nothing but heat and ruin.

“To—Tomm—y.” It tears out of you raw, breathless—half-whimper, half-animal—dragged up from somewhere deep and trembling.

“I know—” he breathes, voice thick, wrecked with restraint. One hand leaves your hip, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, calloused palm sliding up until it cups your breast in full possession.

“You look so fuckin’ good from this angle.”

The praise doesn’t wane. If anything, the way he’s buried so deep only sharpens his hunger—makes his words rougher, more reverent.

“Missed this… Bein’ so fucked up inside you.”

He shifts—just enough—lifting one knee to brace against the chair’s arm, angling himself deeper. The new alignment drags him forward, deliberate and unrelenting, until he’s brushing in soft, pulsing rhythm against your cervix.

Fucked up barely begins to cover it.

You clench around him, tighter, your whole body shivering with the effort to stay silent. He groans—low and guttural—mouth grazing your shoulder as he sinks down, chest flush to your spine, every inch of him sealed to your trembling form.

You’re already wrecked—thighs trembling from the sheer effort of holding yourself upright. Every motion spreads slick heat between you, each slow thrust leaving you messy, glistening, undone.

“Can’t lose you,” he gasps—strained, breaking apart. His voice cracks beneath the weight of it, tangled in groans and ragged whines.

“Fuck—”

Your name falls from his lips like a curse, again and again. Like he’s punishing himself with it. Worshipping it. Haunted by it. Every syllable like gold.

“Oh my god—” It escapes you in a panting breath, fragile and frayed—hovering somewhere between a cry and surrender.

He notices—your trembling, the way your body starts to falter—and lets out a frustrated exhale. But it isn’t your exhaustion that draws it from him. It’s everything he’s been holding in. All the tension coiled tight beneath his skin, buried deep in muscle and bone, haunting him through every hour of the day.

He pulls out with a groan, rough and reluctant—like the absence of your warmth physically pains him. You echo it, a soft, broken whimper slipping from your lips as your head drops lower, hips unsteady and shaking.

He leans forward into the narrow aisle, hands threading beneath your arms, one anchoring at your waist. He lifts you—effortless, like muscle memory—but this time, there’s a fever behind it. A kind of urgency.

Your back meets the cold theatre wall with a shiver, stark against overheated skin. And without a word—no warning, no pause—he drives you down, presses you forward. Fucking up into you, hard and sure, with the wall at your spine and nothing to catch you but him.

This time, you can see him. The way he looks at you—really looks—as your flushed face lifts, eyes half-lidded and dazed, finding his. It’s desperate, a silent plea hanging between parted lips, breath caught, no sound escaping.

His arms are locked around your waist, holding you close—coiled, trembling with something deeper than lust. His head dips forward, brushing a kiss against you—soft, dry-mouthed, his breath ragged.

“I was so fuckin' scared.”

It slips out like a confession, barely above a whisper, his eyes flicking up through the weight of his lashes.

“I can’t live without you—” Before, he was slow—drawn-out, savoring, lost in the rhythm of his own need. But now? He’s driven.

His hips pound into you with punishing precision, each thrust unrelenting, slamming up into that one devastating spot he knows by heart. No mercy. No pause. Just raw, rhythmic force.

It doesn’t take long—seconds, really—before the pressure starts to build, that tight coil gathering low in your belly, threatening to snap. Your eyes betray you first, going wide, glassy.

He sees it. And breathes it in like a promise.

“There she is…” he murmurs, mouth brushing yours before crashing in—tongue, teeth, breathless urgency. “Come on… give it to me—give it to me, sweetheart…”

You think it’ll be his name that slips out.

But it’s not.

“I’m sorry—” It leaves you like a broken sob, breathless and cracked, your head thrown back, eyes clenched tight.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry—” But the rest is stolen—devoured—his mouth crashing into yours in a kiss that’s all desperation and heat, messy and unrelenting, more collision than connection.

You shudder against him, unraveling fast, sobs catching in your throat as your thighs clamp hard around his hips—tight enough to bruise, to mark, to mean it.

He pulls back just enough to press his forehead to yours, breath hitching—shallow, ragged. His eyes are half-lidded, glassy, like he’s barely holding on.

“That’s it… Fuck—Jesus Christ,” he groans, voice breaking around the edges. His hips stutter, slipping in and out with erratic desperation, like his body refuses to let go, refuses to stop feeling.

“Shit—I’m…”

His mouth finds yours again, quick and needy, like the words are too dangerous to finish aloud. His grip tightens, grounding himself in the curve of your waist, the tremble of your body under his.

“Don’t let go yet,” he breathes, almost pleading. “Not yet—stay with me. Just a little longer.”

One hand drifts upward, tracing the curve of your spine before tangling gently in the thick, tangled strands he’s come to crave. He doesn’t tug—just lingers there, holding you captive in the ache of his touch.

It’s his snarl that betrays him—a ragged, breathy growl caught between a plea and a promise.

Then the heat crashes in, spilling fiercely into you, relentless and unforgiving as he drives himself hilt deep, locking you together in raw, brutal surrender.

He leans closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice low and ragged.

“God—fuck—you're all I've ever needed."

You settle into the quiet between breaths, bodies entwined—breathing in each others every release and inhale. His forehead presses gently into the hollow of your neck, still holding you captive against the cold wall.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is a soft murmur, thick with exhaustion and something fragile as your hands lift from your slack side to rest against his collarbone and jaw.

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I know,” he exhales, tilting his head back to meet your gaze. His hand rises slowly, brushing away a stray lock of hair plastered to your sweat-dampened forehead. “I know.”

He swallows hard, those deep brown eyes tracing the contours of your face like a bittersweet memory—like you’re already slipping away and he’s mourning every second.

“I would’ve done the same,” he whispers, voice thick with regret. “That’s why I’m angry. Because I would’ve left you in Jackson—just like you left me. Because I want to keep you safe. Hide you from this fucked up world.”

You nod, the weight of his words settling deep inside you. Because fuck—if you could cage him, shield him from every shadow that prowls this city, you would.

God wants to tear him away from you.

He will. One day.

But not today. He’d have to pry him from your cold, dead fucking clenched hands.

The aftermath is gentle. He lowers you from his hold with care, tugging at the hem of whatever undershirt he’s wearing to blot the sheen of sweat from your skin before discarding it somewhere haphazard.

He mutters something about the mess he's made—how the moment you’re back in Jackson, he’ll draw you the warmest bath. How all this grime and sweat can’t be good for you.

It’s strange. Almost laughable, really—how, amidst this fractured, war-torn world, his mind lingers on something as tender and mundane as your cleanliness.

You only catch his words when his fingers, gentle but sure, thread your belt through the loops of your jeans, tugging your zipper closed.

“Just… let me speak,” he murmurs, low and steady—knowing full well that if he stumbles, if he says too much, you’ll cut him off without hesitation.

“I love you.”

“I love you—and I’m not letting you die out here. Not like this.”

“I won’t let this fucked-up world steal away the one thing I’ve got left.”

You part your lips to reply, but he shakes his head—warning, fierce.

“We have so much left to do.”

“So much I haven’t given you.”

“A real goddamn house… a ring… a family…”

He pulls you closer, voice dropping to a rough whisper, almost desperate.

His hands tighten on your waist, thumb tracing slow circles, grounding you in the moment.

“I swear, I’m gon' make it right."

"I'm gon' fix it."

But beneath it all, you know—he cannot sever the threads fate has woven tight. No matter how he pleads, how he weeps, how fiercely he fights, the relentless clock beats on for both of you—unyielding, inevitable. Only sheer raw defiance stands between you and that monster.

Your hand rises, trembling, to his face—soft, reverent. Thumb tracing away a stubborn speck of dirt, lingering over freckles you adore.

“I’m not losing you to this city, Tommy,” you breathe, voice fragile yet fierce. Tongue swiping nervously over your lips, your resolve shaking.

“I’m not losing them. I’m not losing you. And damn it, you’re sure as hell not losing me.”

He leans in, pressing a kiss that’s deep and urgent—soft but laden with a desperate hunger. Not like the hunger before, not the hesitant tremble of uncertain resolve. This kiss is a silent confession, a wordless sobbing into each other’s mouths, like gasping for breath in pools of water.

Because come morning, who knows if you’ll still find each other alive.

authors note: did you understand the position i put them in on the chair.. or did u have to do the thing.. where ur like.. ??what they doin' . anyway. mwah mwah

if you're confused on the position.. (sfw) post here

[sturnsblogs]

LET EM YELL

Loser!Matt X Popular!Reader

—

You’ve been extremely upset and sick… not physically, not the kind of sick a thermometer could prove. But the kind that settles into your chest and refuses to leave. Heavy. Cold. Embarrassed. Heartache kind of sick.

You haven’t been to school in days. You haven’t replied to Matt, either.

His texts were few. Spread out. Impatient.

Matt:

“u dead?”

Matt:

“mrs. bennett gave me your dumb homework. i’m not your errand boy btw.”

Matt:

“you ignoring me now? sick.”

Matt:

“cool. stay mad then.”

You left him on delivered every time.

At school, Matt pretended it didn’t matter. He had friends. He had noise to distract him. But the empty seat next to him? That was hard to ignore.

You usually filled the space beside him with your nonstop chatter, stories, makeup questions, and random complaints about your mom.

It was weird without it.

Chris nudged him in the hallway between fourth and fifth period.

“You good, Matt?”

He blinked, then nodded with a forced shrug. “Uh… yeah.”

But he wasn’t.

After school, something pulled at him.

He walked to your house, gripping a crumpled worksheet from Mrs. Bennett. It was his excuse, but it wasn’t the reason.

He knocked.

The door creaked open, and your dad stood there. The resemblance to you was there—but colder. Harsh.

“Who are you?” he asked, voice flat.

Matt gave a nervous smile. “Hi… I’m one of Y/N’s friends. She hasn’t been at school, and I wanted to drop off her homework.”

Your dad rolled his eyes. “That dramatic kid? She’s fucking useless,” he muttered, turning around and walking off without another word, leaving the door wide open behind him.

Matt’s brows furrowed. His stomach turned, but he stepped inside quietly, following the familiar hallway to your room.

He knocked gently once before opening the door.

There you were—tucked under a blanket, curled away from the world, back turned to the door.

“Hey…” he said softly, leaning against the doorframe.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t even flinch.

He stood there for a beat, watching you in the soft light spilling in from the hallway. You looked small. Tired. Quiet.

Matt had never seen you quiet.

“…I, uh—I brought your homework. Mrs. Bennett wouldn’t stop reminding me.” He paused. “You know, since I’m your assigned seat partner and all.”

Still, silence.

He stepped a little closer, his voice quieter now. “You gonna keep ignoring me forever or just until your mascara stops running?”

No answer.

He sighed, pulling the chair at your desk out with a soft scrape and dropping the worksheet onto it.

Then he sat down slowly, looking at the back of your head like it might give him some clue what to do.

“I didn’t mean what I said. Or maybe I did, but I shouldn’t have said it like that. I don’t know.”

Another pause.

“Your dad’s a piece of shit, by the way.”

Still nothing.

Matt leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I didn’t think you’d disappear. I didn’t think you’d actually care what I said.” His tone faltered. “I guess I didn’t think a lot.”

The silence stayed, heavy and awkward.

He glanced at you again, waiting.

“…You gonna say anything?”

Nothing.

Matt stared at you for another few seconds, then slowly stood up. He walked over, the soft creak of the floorboards under his feet the only sound in the room. You didn’t turn. Didn’t flinch. Just laid there—facing the wall, wrapped in silence like a second blanket.

Without asking, he sat down on the edge of your bed, then slowly laid back next to you. Close, but not touching.

After a moment, he shifted closer—close enough that his breath hit the back of your neck. You felt it.

Then you felt his fingers lightly brush under your jaw, tickling the curve of your neck. Featherlight, teasing.

You squirmed a little, pulling the blanket tighter around you, your voice muffled.

“Stop…” you mumbled weakly, pushing his hand away without even looking.

But he didn’t stop. His fingers slid again to your neck, drawing another squirm out of you.

“Matt,” you said, sharper this time. “I said stop.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just exhaled—something between a sigh and a chuckle—and then he gently gripped your jaw. Not hard. Not rough. Just enough to make you turn your head toward him.

Your tired eyes met his, rimmed with red and glazed with tears you didn’t want him to see.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Look at me.”

You tried to look away again, but he didn’t let you.

“Stop hiding,” he murmured.

Then he sat you up gently, hands on your arms to guide you. You sat cross-legged now, blanket still wrapped around your shoulders, avoiding his eyes.

Matt sat beside you, one leg bent on the bed, his voice low.

“You don’t get to just disappear like that,” he said, more serious now. “You don’t get to let what I said keep you in this bed like you’re nothing.”

You bit your lip, head still down.

“I was a dick,” he admitted. “But you—You don’t get to believe what I said. Not when I didn’t even mean it.”

You finally looked at him, voice cracked and barely audible. “You said I wasn’t the type of girl you’d want.”

He exhaled through his nose and leaned back slightly, staring at the ceiling before dropping his eyes back to you.

“Yeah, well,” he said, a little softer, “maybe I didn’t think I was the kind of guy who deserved someone like you.”

You blinked, surprised.

He shrugged, trying to play it off. “But I didn’t say that part. ‘Cause I’m an idiot.”

You stared at him, unsure what to say.

He stared right back.

“Say something,” he murmured. “Yell at me. Slap me. I don’t care. Just—don’t shut me out.”

Your eyes dropped again, lashes heavy with everything you were feeling. You were quiet for a second, and so was he. The kind of silence that made your chest hurt.

Then Matt reached out slowly, brushing a thumb under your eye. “Your face is all blotchy,” he muttered, voice low.

You flinched a little. “Wow. Thanks.”

He smirked faintly. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Your gaze narrowed.

He looked down, almost like he was embarrassed for once. Then his voice softened more. “You’re… pretty. Even without the makeup.”

Your breath caught slightly. You weren’t expecting that—not from him.

You looked away quickly, pretending to busy yourself with the blanket around your shoulders, heart thumping like it didn’t know how to take a compliment from him of all people.

“You wanna, uh…” he cleared his throat and leaned over, grabbing your backpack that was dumped beside your bed. “Do your homework together or something? I brought all your shit.”

You glanced at him, surprised again. “You’re offering to help me with homework?”

He raised a brow. “I’m not completely heartless.”

You gave the smallest smile, your voice soft. “Thanks, Matt…”

You both sat back against the headboard, him flipping open your notebook and reaching for a pen.

And then it happened.

The yelling.

First it was your mom’s voice, shrill and bitter—saying something about how “this is exactly why she’s never gonna make it” and “she’s been moping around like some pathetic little brat.”

Then your dad jumped in. “She’s an embarrassment. I’m tired of her always needing attention like she’s some kind of victim. She doesn’t even try.”

Matt paused mid-sentence.

You froze completely, your arms curling tighter around your knees as you pulled the blanket up to your chin, trying to shrink into nothing.

Their voices kept getting louder, crueler.

Matt looked over at you, expression hardening as he listened to the way they talked about you. Like you weren’t just in the next room. Like you weren’t a person at all.

You bit your lip so hard it hurt, trying to hold it together, but your eyes welled up. Your face went hot with shame and hurt, and you couldn’t stop it—you turned away from him again, pulling the blanket almost over your head.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry, Matt. You shouldn’t be here.”

He didn’t move for a second. Just looked at you with that unreadable look of his.

Then he quietly reached over, sliding your books off your lap and setting them aside.

You felt the bed shift as he laid down beside you again, just close enough for his arm to press against yours under the blanket.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly. “Let ‘em yell.”

You stayed curled in on yourself for a moment, still breathing unevenly, but then you felt his arm slowly snake around your waist. It wasn’t forceful or weird—just grounding. Warm. Secure.

He didn’t say anything at first. He just pulled you a little closer under the blanket, and it worked. You turned slightly, instinctively leaning into him like your body knew it was safe there. When you looked up, your nose brushed his.

You froze for a second, your heart practically launching into your throat. Matt didn’t move away.

In fact, he smirked.

“Your nose is cold,” he whispered.

You blinked. “What?”

He shrugged slightly. “Just saying.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed. And then he added, almost seriously, “You know, I read somewhere that if you wear socks to bed, it helps with blood circulation. Maybe that’s why your nose is cold. Your blood’s like… confused.”

You blinked again. “Matt, what are you even talking about?”

“I’m trying to help,” he deadpanned. “This is serious. We gotta save your nose.”

Despite yourself, you let out the tiniest laugh. The edge of your lip twitched, and he noticed. His smile softened just a little.

“And also…” he tilted his head slightly, voice going quieter as he added, “You make really ugly crying faces. But it’s kinda cute.”

You smacked his chest gently. “Oh my god, you’re the worst.”

He chuckled and squeezed your waist a little. “But you’re not crying anymore, are you?”

You bit your bottom lip, trying not to smile as you looked up at him. The shouting from the other room faded slightly—still there, still loud—but less important in this moment.

You were here. And so was he. And for once, you didn’t feel alone.

—

A/N- FORGIVENNNNNN

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @sturnl0ve @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill @fadedstvrn @ikyoudreamofme @mattsdemi @kitkatbar1275 @skelet0nsinmyycloset @lezleeferguson-120 @bells-sturn @sturniolosymphony @kenziesturniolo54 @kikirasweatsweathoho @emely9274 @cherryystemfemme @realuvrrr @zenithsturniolo @kier-with-a-k @eeyoresturnz @elizasturn @ribread03 @sturnslux3 @costalgirlyr @55sturn

[sturnioz]

shy!reader has been pretty much m.i.a all week, and fratboy!chris does not care. no seriously, he doesn’t care.

he’s just kept his eyes peeled every night through crowds of sweaty bodies jammed into his living room, and even through the sluggish crowds of tired students in college hallways, yet he couldn’t find you.

it was on the 6th night when chris was seriously considering showing up at your place — for no reason just he needed your lit notes, of course —when he received a text from nick.

nick, the eldest — and no doubt more mature —triplet. chris’ eyebrows furrowed at the notification, why was nick texting him at 10:30pm on a weeknight? kid cares way too much about being on time for class in the mornings

—

Nick: *image attached* isn’t this one of your girls?

—

the somewhat blurry picture was taken from a distance in the old, dusty library on campus. you sat in a corner, a mess of notes, books and your laptop sprawled on the desk in front of you. you looked weak, your hair a mess, bags prominent under your eyes.

before chris could even react, his phone buzzed again

—

i’m not a total creeper, i’ve just noticed her here every night this week and i’m pretty sure she has not changed her sweatshirt once

or pretty much left this library.

i seriously hope this is actually her and not a complete stranger

you know what, i’m talking to her. don’t change my mind.

—

chris groaned, the realisation of finals week dawning on him. sometimes chris forgets how much college actually means to you, and how ridiculously sick it makes you.

he did not have time for this, he had customers to please, yet - he didn’t hesitate. he’s huffing and complaining pretty much the whole time, but he’s quick to make his way over to the library he’s really not too familiar with, saving you from the shackles that is a conversation with a redbull fueled nick sturniolo.

-

you can take it from here, love u pooks mwah

- 🫧

gonna take it from here in shy!readers pov cos i want nick and shy!reader to have some one on one time before fratboy!chris grumpily comes over !!

your back aches with a constant throb, your eyes feel gritty and sore, and a dull headache pulses at your temples, making it difficult for you to concentrate. hunched over in the dimly lit corner of the library, you've spent countless of hours — days — buried in textbooks, scribbles notes and laptop screens, desperately trying to absorb everything before your exams.

the week has been relentless, leaving you physically and emotionally drained, as if the weight of your studies is pressing down on you.

you haven't seen chris in almost a week. the silence has been deafening — no texts lighting up your phone, no calls breaking the quiet, and no facetime calls at late hours. truth be told, you did put your phone on do not disturb, silencing any incoming calls to shield yourself from distractions. it's not that you intended to cut off all communication completely; you simply needed space.

you needed to be alone, to gather your thoughts, and to focus on your studies, to not be distracted by his intense social life.

however, you are distracted when someone slams a stack of textbooks onto the table opposite you, the sound echoing in the quiet space. startled, you lift your tired gaze, and your heart thumps when you recognise a familiar that slumps into the seat across from you.

he runs a hand through his tousled mullet, adjusting the thin-framed glasses that rest on the bridge of his nose before flashing you a friendly grin.

you know who he is. you've seen him in countless pictures and instagram posts with chris and matt. yet, despite your familiarity with his image, you've never met him in person — you never even spoke a word to each other, and you find yourself sliding further down in your seat, a wave of awkwardness and shyness washing over you.

"hello—fuck!" nick curses as he sets his can of red bull down on the wooden table, only for it to topple over and spill a little. flustered and annoyed, he mutters under his breath, hastily dabbing at the tiny droplets on the table with the sleeve of his sweater. his eyes finally meet yours again, and he offers another grin. "hello."

"hi.." you manage to respond, your voice barely above a whisper.

"i've noticed that you're, like, constantly glued to this fucking seat, like you haven't moved the entire week—" nick pauses mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he realises how awful his wording sounds. he quickly holds up his hand, a look of urgency in his expression. "i'm not a creep. i wasn't staring at you. i know you—i think i know you—no, i do know you. you're, like, kinda with my brother. chris. that's you, right? god, tell me that's you, 'cos i'm gonna end up losing my mind—"

"yeah," you cut off his intense rambling, which is probably fuelled by the red bull he keeps fidgeting with. "that... that's me, yeah."

nick blinks at you in silence for a moment before he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, and he bluntly says. "wow, you really are quiet," you become a little flustered at that, tearing your gaze away from him until he asks incredulously. "the fuck are you doing with chris of all people?"

a subtle smile pulls at your lips at that, especially when you glance back at his face and see the shock etched across it. honestly, you don't even know what you're doing with chris, but it wouldn't exactly be appropriate to go into the details with his brother. so, you simply shrug your shoulders in response.

nick suddenly deadpans. "blink twice if you need my help."

now that makes you laugh — a genuine, unexpected sound that splutters past your lips. you quickly cover your mouth, eyes widening as the sound echoes through the library and you glance around, paranoid that someone might shoot you the dirtiest look and demand you to shut up or leave.

but nick waves it off dismissively when he notices your worries, "they can go fuck themselves."

you remain silent for a moment, considering his words, before stating, "we... are in a library."

"then they can go fuck themselves quietly."

another genuine, but quieter, laugh escapes you. you find yourself relaxing a bit more with him, opening up and feeling more comfortable as nick takes charge of the conversation; showing genuine interest in your major, your studies, and your hobbies.

you do the same, getting to know him better, and even getting a little excited when you realise how many similarities you share. the more you chat, the more your cheeks start to hurt from smiling so much. the tiredness that had once taken over you begins to fade away, replaced by a lightness you haven't felt in days, and your books and notes sit forgotten on the table.

however, your head perks up in surprise when you spot chris walking through the double doors. he's wearing a beanie on top of his head with tuffs of curly hair peeking out, a hoodie that swallows his frame, and his hands are shoved deep in the pockets of his sweatpants.

he glances around the library, his eyes finally zeroing in on you and nick at the far end of the room. you can't quite read his expression — his face stoic as he makes his way over.

he drops down in the chair beside you, and nick immediately pulls a face, shooting you a look that makes you giggle again, and chris huffs at the sound, clearly unimpressed.

"stop botherin' her," chris mutters, his foot hooking comfortably beneath your chair as he settles in.

"m'not."

chris rolls his eyes, ignoring nick's response as he turns his attention to you. he takes you in for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing as he says, "tell him he's botherin' you, kid."

you can't help but smile gently. "he's not bothering me. he's been fun.. i like his company."

"told you," nick muses across from across the table. chris snaps his head towards nick, shooting him a glare as nick lifts the can of red bull to his mouth, a smirk spreading across his lips as he adds, "bitch."

[moonstruckme]

Hey queen what about a lil fic of reader with one of the boys (u can pick whoever!!) where it's her first healthy relationship and May be she thanks them for being nice and he's just like ummm I don't wanna be mean to u

Thanks for requesting lovely!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You have a habit of complaining into the void. It’s not the first text you send James griping about your day at work and it likely won’t be the last, but you’re surprised when the result is him turning up at your desk with flowers and a coffee. 

“James,” you say dumbly, looking up in absolute astoundment as he sets the flowers carefully by your keyboard and bends down for a kiss. 

“Hi, angel.” James presses the coffee into your hand. Spots the empty desk next to yours and, with a quick glance around, steals the chair, sitting beside you. “Are you still on your lunch break?” 

“I—yeah.” Your brain can’t quite make sense of him at your work. It’s like being a kid and seeing your teacher at the store. James, with his casual clothes and easy smile, doesn’t belong in this place. “I’ve got twenty minutes left. What are you doing here?” 

“You seemed like you were having a rough morning,” he says simply. “I thought I might see if I could come and make you feel a bit better—don’t worry, I brought supplies.” 

He shrugs out of one strap of his backpack, swinging it around onto his lap and pulling out a small vase. James seems too distracted to have noticed your stupefaction. 

“Do you have a sink around here?” 

You point him towards the break room and he hurries off, returning a minute later to arrange your flowers in the vase. 

“I know it might be silly,” he says, as he works with a care that belies his words, “but I was thinking that if I was stuck in one place all day, it might help me to have something nice to look at. I considered getting you a mirror, but I thought you may have grown used to that particular sight so I ought to mix it up.”

James glances up to catch your reaction to the last bit, dimples appearing when you fluster. As he sits back down, his gaze roams your workspace, largely empty as most of your coworkers have gone to lunch. He swivels the chair from side to side absentmindedly, his knees brushing yours with each pass. It feels like someone striking a match. 

“I didn’t know you had so few windows in here.” He blows out a breath. “We should hit a park or something after you’re off tonight, get you some time in the sun.” 

“That sounds nice,” you say, lifting the coffee in your hand to your lips reflexively. 

It’s not until you register the taste that you think to look at the logo on the cup. It’s from your favorite coffee shop, the one with only one location, which you almost never go to because it’s so far from where you work and live. 

“James,” you say, voice soft with wonder, “did you go all the way across town to get this?” 

“Yeah.” He smiles, tilting his head sideways to rest it on his palm. “That’s the one you like, right?” 

“Yeah, but…” You shake your head, grinning. “You’re crazy,” you say, when you mean to say You’re incredible. 

“Crazy for you.” He makes a disgusted face as he says it, laughing at himself. You can’t bring yourself to do the same. 

You remember a time, not so long ago, when you would have felt lucky if the person you were dating responded to your texts at all. James has responded in person, with kind words and gifts and a thoughtfulness that’s going to brighten not just the rest of your day but your week. You’ve no idea what to do with this much sweetness. 

You shake your head again. “Thank you. Seriously, I—this is too nice. You’re so—” You lean forward, running your forefinger over the stubble on his jaw as you peck him on the lips. His smile leaps up on his face. “You’re so sweet to me, Jamie. Thank you.” 

“I don’t mind, sweetheart, really.” James palms the back of your elbow, his touch trailing down to your wrist as you pull away. “I like doing things for you. You deserve it.” 

You smile at him, letting the sincerity in his voice warm your chest. “Nobody’s ever been this nice to me before,” you admit. 

James’ expression heavies slightly, a divot forming in between his brows. You feel embarrassed for having said it. You don’t mean to sound self-pitying, you only want James to understand how much you appreciate him, how unprecedented he is for you. 

He smooths his thumb over the hairs on your arm. “I want you to be happy,” he says, a carefulness to his words that’s so unlike his usual quick, energetic way of speaking. “Angel, I’ve got no reason to be anything but nice to you, because it makes me happy to see you happy. It’s like—” He glances away from your face for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek as he thinks. “Like I’m getting to see you the way you’re supposed to be, does that make sense?”

He looks to you for confirmation. You can only stare back at him in stunned silence, horrendously in love and falling deeper by the second. James must find whatever he’s looking for in your expression, though, because he gives your wrist a friendly squeeze and goes on. 

“You’re supposed to be happy. You’re supposed to be treated nicely, no matter who you’re with, but I’m happy to be the person who gets to treat you that way.” He lifts his eyebrows as though to be sure you’re listening, lips quirking slightly. “And you’re nicer than nice to me, so I don’t want to hear any of this crap about bringing you flowers and a coffee being too nice. Got it?” 

Your face is a furnace. You don’t know how to respond. 

James grins, looking ten percent smug and ninety percent smitten. “Say okay, sweetheart.” 

“Okay,” you echo, unable to help breaking into a smile of your own. “Thanks.” 

James groans. He grabs the seat of your chair, rolling you closer to him until your knees are on either side of his. “Enough with the thanks,” he chides, more laughter than irritation in his tone. “Those other people sound like assholes, lovely. We’ve gotta up your standards.” 

[caitified]

hey im not sure if this is similar to the previous requests u've gotten, but

reader and CC were teammates in iowa (privately dating with fans and media speculating about them) then the draft happened—different teams—CC's PR team advised her to be in a PR relationship with u know who—and uh, reader did not take it well. they started drifting apart and the internet had a few reasons why—some thought they were together and broke up, some thought they were beefing due to being on different teams, or u can add ur own ideas ;)

angst but with a happy ending!

behind the scenes

caitlin clark x reader

warnings:none/notes: i’m back!

it was always quiet between you and caitlin.

not silence—but something softer. something intimate. you’d be in the back row of the team bus, headphones tangled, your shoulder leaned into hers, and nothing needed to be said. you’d lie side by side on the floor of your shared apartment, the glow of film study still flickering on the tv, your fingers brushing somewhere between the couch cushions. it wasn’t official, but it was everything.

at iowa, you learned the rhythm of her. how she liked her coffee. the way her voice dipped when she was tired. the little smirk she gave before she pulled up from the logo, already knowing it was going in.

and she knew you too. every tell. every scar. every story.

nobody said it out loud, but people knew.

fans clipped moments from post-game hugs and tunnel glances like they were watching a romance film in slow motion. “are they…?” the tiktoks whispered. “idk but they give something.”

you never confirmed anything. you didn’t have to. there were just glances that lingered too long, cheeks flushed after every win, hands always finding each other when no one was looking.

you didn’t know it at the time, but that was the golden part. the part you’d ache for later.

then came the draft.

you sat beside her in the green room, fingers laced under the table, hidden from the cameras. she looked over at you when her name was called, and you kissed her cheek before she stood up. it was supposed to be everything. a beginning.

but they sent you to two different cities.

two different teams.

two different lives.

you thought you could handle it. you were strong. you were used to early mornings, late flights, long practices. what was a little distance compared to everything you’d already been through together?

but the truth was: the distance wasn’t just miles. it was what happened after.

it started with a phone call.

she sounded off. distracted. like she was trying to read a script someone else had written.

“they’re asking me to… do this thing,” she said.

you could hear the tension in her jaw through the phone.

“what thing?” you asked, already knowing you weren’t going to like the answer.

“a fake relationship. just for PR. nothing serious. it’s just—”

you already knew the name before she said it.

connor.

“they think it’ll help… neutralize the rumors. you know. keep the focus on basketball.”

you didn’t say anything at first. just sat there on the hotel room bed, staring at the little blinking light on the minibar fridge.

“you don’t have to do this,” you said eventually, voice quiet. “you know that, right?”

“i know,” she said. but she didn’t sound like she believed it.

and then the pictures started coming.

her at brunch with him.

her sitting courtside at his game.

her in a hoodie you’d left at her apartment.

the internet lost its mind.

suddenly, it was caitlin clark and connor mccaffrey trending every week.

suddenly, it was like you’d never existed.

your teammates stopped asking how she was.

you stopped wearing the necklace she got you.

you deleted the shared notes app you kept for late-night thoughts and grocery lists and half-written love letters.

and still—your chest cracked open every time her name came up in post-game interviews.

because even when you tried not to care, you did.

you cared so much it burned.

there were theories, of course.

fans speculated for weeks.

some thought you two had been secretly dating and broke up.

some thought you hated each other now—just two stars, too competitive, too jealous to coexist.

some clung to hope, dissecting every subtle interaction like it held the answer to everything.

and the worst part?

you missed her.

you missed the way she used to say your name. you missed the jokes no one else got. you missed waking up to “good luck today, kill it” texts and falling asleep to grainy facetime calls where neither of you said much, just listened to the sound of the other breathing.

you missed her.

then came the game.

your teams faced off midseason.

sold out arena. tv cameras. screaming fans.

everyone was watching.

and so was she.

you felt her eyes on you during warmups. you looked over—just once—and she gave you this tiny smile like she wanted to say everything she couldn’t.

you didn’t smile back.

you couldn’t.

the game was brutal. elbows. fouls. trash talk. you guarded her like you didn’t still dream about her hand in yours. she scored on you once and muttered something under her breath that almost sounded like an apology.

after the game, you didn’t even hug.

you walked past her like she was just another player in your way.

twitter lit up.

“wait… what was THAT?”

“no handshake???”

“they definitely have beef.”

“or they were in love. idk. either way i’m invested.”

you avoided the clips.

she didn’t.

she watched the replay a dozen times that night, alone in her apartment, a bottle of gatorade sweating beside her on the counter. you stared at the ceiling in your hotel room, wondering how it all got so far away.

you told yourself it was over.

but then the offseason came.

and one night, after a charity game in iowa city, you saw her again.

she was standing near the exit, hat low on her forehead, hands buried in her pockets like she didn’t know what to do with them.

you didn’t mean to walk toward her. your body just went.

“hey,” she said.

you just looked at her.

she looked older. not in a bad way. just tired. like she’d been pretending for too long.

“i broke it off,” she said.

you blinked.

“the PR thing,” she added. “i told them i couldn’t do it anymore. i couldn’t keep—”

she swallowed hard. “—i couldn’t keep pretending i wasn’t in love with someone else.”

your heart twisted.

“caitlin,” you said, and it came out like a breath.

“i know i messed up,” she said. “i let them talk me into something that made me lose you. i thought i could protect us by hiding. but i just made it worse.”

you looked at her for a long time.

at the freckles you used to count when she fell asleep in your lap.

at the girl who used to be yours.

you didn’t answer right away.

you just stepped closer. slowly.

and when you spoke again, your voice was soft.

“you didn’t lose me,” you said.

“you just have to fight for me this time.”

and she nodded.

not like she was promising anything.

not like it would all be fixed with a kiss.

but like she knew.

like she finally understood what it meant to love out loud.

you didn’t take her hand that night.

you didn’t need to.

somewhere in the silence between you, something shifted.

maybe this time, you’d make it work.

not in secret.

not with maybes.

but with hands held tightly and names spoken fully and hearts unhidden.

maybe this time, it wouldn’t be out of bounds.

im back!! will update my wattpad book soon, keep the requests coming.

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part thirteen | r.c

summary:

JJ only snickered as he fixed his cap, before turning to you with a smirk. “Hey. Kie run you off yet?”

“I don’t think she’d ever manage do as much damage as you yourself could,” you pointed out and JJ laughed, his hand curling around the arm of your chair, pulling you closer to him.

“See, when you used to say things like that, I thought you meant it, but now I know you’re just trying to hide that you actually like me.”

OR; JJ sees another side of you and you distance yourself from Rafe and your friends

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mention of smoking weed and driving while intoxicated, vulgar choice of words (idk why I put this, I always use vulgar words help)

word count: 4,2k

author's note: hi. highly anticipated new chapter 👀 also I've noticed that the chapters do tend to be longer now (compared to the 2k-ish chapters from season one) but I just gotta pack everything in that needs to be in the chapter and i know you guys don’t mind hehe. hope you have sooo much fun reading! 🫶🏼

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. thirteen: "tell your friends you’re out for a run”

kelce in 3 musketeers and their precious [05/02/24: 3:54 pm]: we hanging out this week?

top in 3 musketeers and their precious [05/02/24: 4:12 pm]: I’m down. Time and place?

rafe in 3 musketeers and their precious [05/02/24: 4:19 pm]: ask Precious

kelce [05/02/24: 4:21 pm]: hey what’s up??? why are u awol?

JJ [05/02/24: 4:26 pm]: gotta finish this up with john b and then i’ll meet you there

With a small sigh, you flipped your phone around, screen face down. It had been about a week since you got back from Nassau. It had been the same amount of time since you had seen your friends last. Rafe definitely knew you were blowing him off, and you did feel bad, especially since he had been worried about things between the two of you. But really, what other choice did you have? You needed some distance before you could pretend like you didn’t care that he was apparently starting some relationship with a random girl he met. And staying away from Rafe meant staying away from Topper and Kelce, too.

Topper definitely knew what he was talking about when he was warning you about having sex with Rafe.

“Can I get you anything, or…?”

You lifted your eyes from the wooden table top you were staring at to see Kiara look at you expectantly, raising a brow.

As it turned out, you didn’t have a lot of friends besides Kelce, Topper and Rafe, which honestly was never a problem before. Now, however, that you were trying to get some space from Rafe, it proved to be more lonesome than you had expected.

Not that lonesome though.

You had been spending a lot of time with JJ lately, which did manage to distract you. It also meant spending a lot of time over on the Cut, mostly because it was more convenient, but also lowered the chances of running into your friends. You weren’t exactly trying to hide that you were out with JJ, but honestly, you knew you were preventing a lot of headaches that way.

Another place you had been frequenting more often was the Wreck, where you were now. It was one of the last places anyone would expect you to be, despite it being on Figure Eight.

“Can I just get a diet coke on ice?” you said, and Kiara gave you a brief nod, disappearing back inside. It didn’t take long for her to return with a can of diet coke and a glass filled with ice.

“Thanks,” you said and Kiara only responds with a wry smile, which was fair. The two of you barely interacted before, considering you were in very different circles. Despite her parents’ lavish home and their establishment on Figure Eight, Kiara considered herself a pogue, distancing herself from your part of the island as much as she possibly could, whereas you did enjoy the privilege your parents were able to provide you. Though you did see where she was coming from. In spite of all your differences, you both were two sides of the same coin. Before Sarah joined their friend group, Kiara was the only girl among her friends for the longest time, if anyone could understand you, it was her.

“Can I ask you something?”

Kiara paused, eyeing her parents behind the bar and the rest of the customers who seemed to be content, before she nodded with a small sigh, sitting down across from you, serving tray in her lap. She looked at you expectantly, while you struggled to find the right words.

“You’ve been friends with those guys for years… Did you ever.. Catch feelings for any of them?”

You knew you were revealing your feelings with your words, but what was Kiara gonna do? Go tell Rafe that you loved him?

“If you’re asking because you’re worried that you’ve got competition with JJ-“

“That’s not why I’m asking,” you quickly intervened, huffing. “You know my friends.”

Kiara leveled you with a look, squinting her eyes at you before she sighed, shrugging a bit with her shoulders.

“Well, it helps that JJ is a fucking idiot.”

You quirked a smile at her. “No argument from me.”

Kiara rolled her eyes with a scoff but you could detect a hint of a smile when she turned away. It took her a minute, before she finally found an answer to your question.

“I think it’s easy to mistake platonic love for romantic one, especially because you do spend so much time with your friends. There were times where I thought I was in love with one of them,” Kiara said, making you raise a brow at her. “But then I imagined kissing them and immediately realized that I would hate doing that.”

Yeah, you were definitely fucked.

You exhaled softly, leaning back in your chair, clearly unhappy with her answer. Kiara stayed silent, allowing you to wallow in your misery before you lifted your head again, finding her still looking at you. Right, JJ was one of her best friends and you basically just admitted that you were in love with one of your best friends.

“So is this the part where you’re telling me to stay away from JJ or…?”

“Nah, I ain’t touching that with a ten foot pole,” Kiara jeered, crossing her arms in an x. “JJ and his mortal enemy’s best friend is just a disaster waiting to happen. I want no part of that.”

“Mortal enemy?” you echoed, snorting. “What, are they going to fight for my honor?”

“What would you describe them as then, missy?” Kiara shot back. “Besides, I think you’re capable enough of fighting for your own honor.”

With a small laugh, you nodded, taking that as some sort of gesture of peace, which was nice. You were in no mood for more drama.

“And I think you know what you’re getting yourself into by getting involved with JJ, especially when your friends find out,” Kiara added, “I’m assuming they don’t know yet?”

You pulled a face, which was answer enough for Kiara. She didn’t have to tell you that this would end catastrophically, you knew and yet, here you were.

“Who died?”

JJ let himself fall into the free chair next to you, his crude words serving as some sort of hello. Kiara rolled her eyes, giving you a look which you knew meant really, this guy? and stood up, pushing JJ’s cap further down his face before she left to take care of the rest of the customers.

JJ only snickered as he fixed his cap, before turning to you with a smirk. “Hey. Kie run you off yet?”

“I don’t think she’d ever manage do as much damage as you yourself could,” you pointed out and JJ laughed, his hand curling around the arm of your chair, pulling you closer to him.

“See, when you used to say things like that, I thought you meant it, but now I know you’re just trying to hide that you actually like me.”

You rolled your eyes grinning as JJ looked you up and down, taking you in now that you were much closer.

“They’re not mutually exclusive.”

“Undercover ray of sunshine posing as an ice princess, I get it,” JJ said, like it was a matter of fact. Before you could argue with him, he leaned over to you, pressing his lips against yours.

Cheap trick.

Still you kissed him back, everything else pushed into the background for a while. While you didn’t want to think of Rafe while you were kissing JJ, you couldn’t help but compare them as you were with him. It was easier, being with JJ. Whenever you kissed Rafe all you kept thinking was is this the last time? am i kissing too much? this kiss feels different. With JJ, it was just kissing, no worries or thoughts behind it. It was nice, for a change.

You didn’t know how long you kissed, only breaking apart when someone cleared their throat. Looking up, you found the rest of JJ’s friends surrounding you, all wearing different expressions.

“Hey guys, didn’t see you there,” JJ greeted them cheerfully, as if this was the most normal setting.

“Hey,” you greeted them, lifting your hand for a wave.

“Hey,” Sarah said, sitting down next to you, glancing between you and JJ. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling a little awkwardly. “How have you been?”

As you and Sarah spoke John B took a seat next to her, leaving Pope to stand.

“I’ll go grab another chair,” he said, gesturing to a table in the back, but JJ stopped him.

“No need. We’ll make some space.”

“Please don’t,” John B said dryly, but JJ had already tugged you over in his lap, freeing up another chair.

“Jesus,” you muttered, brushing your hair out of your face, giving JJ a dirty look. Pope only sighed loudly, dropping into your now free chair while you got comfortable in JJ’s lap.

“You good?” JJ asked, his hand coming up on your back to support you.

“Yeah,” you sighed, “Can you just warn me beforehand next time? I don’t like being manhandled.”

“Sorry,” JJ apologized, wincing. “Was trying to act fast.”

You huffed quietly under your breath and as you lifted your head, you realized that that the others had watched you the entire time. Especially Pope seemed particularly interested, leaning his chin in his hand.

“So how exactly did this happen?” he asked, gesturing towards the two of you, like he didn’t quite understand.

“Oh Pope my boy, you know it was only a matter of time before she fell for the Maybank charm,” JJ said with a waggle of his eyebrow, though they quickly creased when you dug your elbow into his ribs. “Guess I was a little persistent.”

“Now that sounds more believable,” Pope stated and John B nodded in agreement.

“Gotta say, I do like the two of you together,” he added, throwing his arm around the back of Sarah’s chair. “Maybe you can get JJ under a control a little, tighten his leash.”

“Big surprise, John B supports pogue and kook macking,” JJ snorted and you furrowed your brows.

“Hold on, I know for a fact that I’m not the first girl JJ’s been with that’s not from your side of the island.”

“You’re different,” Pope replied and the creased on your forehead deepened even more.

“How am I different?”

Before either of them could answer your question, Kiara returned with several bags of food, and another bag filled with drinks.

“You guys ready to go?”

You all piled out of the restaurant, getting more than one look thrown in your direction and you were sure that Kiara’s parents were glad that you left.

You had come in your own car, so you split up, JJ riding with you, while the rest of his friends piled into John B’s old VW van.

While you drove over to the Cut, soft music filtered out of your car’s speakers. Out of the corner of your eye, JJ was relaxing in the passenger seat, his hand out of the window, following the motion of the wind.

“Enjoy being the passenger princess for once?”

“Excuse you,” JJ said, affronted as he looked over to you. His long hair was swept over his forehead, but it was no use pushing it back, the wind blowing through the open window kept tousling his hair. “I was a passenger princess long before you decided to grace me with your presence. John B doesn’t trust me around the Twinkie anymore after I drove it into the tree in his backyard.”

“… You know what, I’m not even gonna ask.”

“Smart,” JJ acknowledged with a nod and you only rolled your eyes with a laugh.

The drive to John B’s place didn’t take too long, his van already parked in front of his house when you arrived. There wasn’t really a parking spot per se, so you parked right next to him. As you got out, closing the car door behind you, you couldn’t help but notice how your car seemed to stand out like a sore thumb. Your jeep was sparkling, especially after you had just picked it from your your monthly detail the day before, the blue car paint shining even more than usual, a stark contrast to John B’s van and house.

You tried not to think too much about how it mirrored you and your place here with JJ and his friends. Pushing your thoughts to the back, you followed JJ into the house, where it was clear that the Pogues had a routine; while Kiara unpacked the food on the small coffee table that was surrounded by the couch and an odd assortment of arm chairs, Pope cleared the paper bags, Sarah and John B disappeared somewhere, before returning with plates and cutlery. Everyone seemed to contribute to the shared meal that you were going to have.

Well, everyone except for JJ, who made himself comfortable on the couch. His eyes found yours and he patted on the empty nook on the couch next to him. Letting out an almost unperceivable sigh, you joined him on the couch. You felt a little weird, sitting around doing nothing while the others were fixing up food, like you were just a picture perfect “kook”, but honestly, JJ was the definition of the pogue, and he couldn’t be more relaxed sitting next to you, opening a can of beer while his friends finished setting up the table.

It wasn’t much later that everything was set up so you could finally eat, the food more than enough for the six of you. After you finished eating, everyone leaned back in their seats, tummies full.

“The food was really good, Kiara,” you said, the other girl looking up to you. “Your parents really know what they’re doing.”

“Thanks,” Kiara answered with a small smile, frowning when Sarah accidentally yanked on her hair when she reached for her bag, rummaging in it before she cheered.

“You know what’ll make today even better?” she asked before thrusting her hand forward. “This!”

The others clapped and cheered, but it took you a second to see what Sarah was holding was a joint between her fingers. In about a second, the joint was lit, and burning in qualms in Sarah’s mouth before she passed it around. You were impressed at their speed, not even you and your friends were that quick. Even though you didn’t really feel like smoking, you figured a little wouldn’t hurt.

You had suspected it the moment Sarah pulled the joint out, but when it finally reached your hands, it confirmed your suspicions. The joint felt familiar between your fingers, like one you’d smoked so many times before when you put your lips around it.

You wondered Sarah had just snuck the joint when she was at home, or if she had asked Rafe for one of his hand rolled joints. It was funny, you thought, how Rafe would do something so trivial like rolling his own joint, but you knew he liked knowing what was actually in there.

You passed the joint to Pope, already starting to feel the effects of the weed spreading into your systems, your limbs starting to loosen. Leaning your head back on the couch, you allowed yourself to relax a little, JJ’s warm body close to yours. The others talked among themselves, what exactly they were talking about, you didn’t really know, but you also just didn’t care.

It wasn’t long until JJ had the joint again, taking a few puffs before he offered it to you.

“I’m good,” you declined, making JJ pout.

“Come on,” he tried to coax you. “Just one more drag.”

“I said no JJ.”

JJ sighed, shaking his head, taking another drag. He leaned over you to pass the joint to Pope, but before he sat back down, JJ curled his hand around your neck, pressing his lips against in a kiss, blowing the smoke into your mouth.

“Jesus, JJ,” someone said behind JJ. You weren’t sure who it was, probably John B.

You were too busy coughing, not having expected the smoke filling your lungs, your hand coming up to punch his shoulder. You being you, not one to to back down, you kissed him back, biting down on his lips, a little more forcefully than needed. JJ grunted, his knee slotting in between your legs so he could press closer to you.

“Ugh, guys, really?”

“Get a room.”

You barely acknowledged their words, unusually so. It was rare that you engaged in public displays of affection and this was definition more than affection.

“I don’t think they’re gonna stop.”

The rustling of the couch and the door opening and closing was distant to your ears, too busy being surrounded by JJ. He however, seemed to clock immediately that the two of you were alone, moving to lay you down on the couch. JJ didn’t waste a second, his mouth finding your sensitive skin on your neck, working himself down your chest with small kisses, sucking on your skin every now and then.

You lifted your head a little, watching JJ plant kisses on your chest, sprawled on the couch gave you the worst kind of flashback. This was not the time to think about Rafe.

“Wait,” you stopped him, both of your hands on his chest to push him off of you.

“What?” JJ breathed out. His blonde hair was in streaks over his forehead, and you couldn’t help but notice how pink his lips were, undoubtedly your doing. Served him right.

“I’m not gonna fuck you on this couch.”

“Oh good,” he sighed, “cause I was planning on fucking you on this couch.”

You snorted out a laugh, slapping his chest and JJ sat up with a laugh, running a hand through his hair.

“You know they’re not gonna come in, right?”

To be completely honest, you had forgotten all about this friends.

“It’s not about them,” you answered, somewhat evasively. “Just not today, okay.”

JJ cocked an eyebrow at you. “You sure I can’t convince you?”

“Yes, JJ.”

Still, he leaned over, his hand on your waist.

“What about second base?”

“Jesus Christ.”

The house was dark when you got home. You tried not to happen too often especially too many nights in a row, knowing your parents would be on your ass if you spent too much time away. To be fair, you hadn’t expected to be hanging out with JJ and his friends for this long, because you just didn’t know where you fit in with them, with your friends disliking his friends so much. The joint helped though, and against your smartest instincts, you smoked another round with them, making you relax and turn your thoughts off for a while. Despite the darkness of the night, you could make out someone sitting on the steps of the porch, and first, you thought it was one of your parents. But as the headlights of your car shone over the front of the house, you realized it was Rafe. Was it too late to wish it was your mom instead?

The trilling of insects was the only sound when you turned your car off, getting out without any difficulty. The slam of the car door echoed through the drive way and Rafe seemed unamused as he pushed himself off the stairs, walking towards you with deliberate steps, his phone in his hand.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, with a frown and Rafe pressed his lips together.

“You’ve been MIA. I was worried,” he said, eyeing you up and down. “Where were you?”

“Out.”

“With whom?” Rafe wanted to know, knowing the same thing you knew. You didn’t have a lot of friends besides of him, Topper and Kelce. “You hanging out with someone you shouldn’t have?”

“Just Scarlett.”

You tried acting nonchalant, shrugging with your shoulders but the movement only allowed the strap of your purse to slip off. Before it could drop to the floor, Rafe caught it with his hands, giving you a look.

“You’re high?” he asked, but it sounded more like a statement than a question. You weren’t sure if it was the weed he was smelling on you, or if it was just plain obvious.

“And you drove like that?”

“How else would I get home?”

Rafe looked at you like you were stupid.

“You could have called me.”

“Because I need you to save me?” you scoffed. You weren’t entirely sure what was up with you.

Lie. You knew exactly what was up with you.

Rafe only stared at you, his nostrils flared, clearly agitated, and for a split second, you expected him to leave, leave you standing in front of your house, but he only wrenched your keys out of your hand, unlocking the front door for you. Despite the anger radiating from him, his touch was gentle when he ushered you inside the house, his hands steady on your back as you walked up the stairs, like he expected you to fall.

Surprisingly, you got into your bedroom without making too much noise, but instead of leaving, Rafe shut the door behind you, placing your purse on your drawer.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, frowning in confusion, the devil’s lettuce clouding your mind. You really needed to sleep.

“Getting you shower, because you might actually fall and drown yourself,” Rafe huffed, his hand around your arm when you moved to sit on your bed. “Don’t. The smell will seep into your sheets”

You rolled your eyes at him but you still let him drag you to your bathroom. He let go of your arm when you stood on the pink bathroom rug, gesturing towards your clothes.

“With or without clothes?”

Your face was blank as you stared at him.

“You’re not watching me shower.”

“Precious, I trust you to shower by yourself about as much as I would trust Kelce to drive my truck,” Rafe sighed, sitting down on the small ottoman, crossing his arms. For a while, you stood in the middle of your bathroom motionless, before you realized he wasn’t joking. With a small sigh, you started undressing, letting your clothes fall on the floor. You hesitated, pulling your top over your head, your bra soon following. Even though Rafe had seen you naked before, you still felt vulnerable as you got undressed in his presence, your eyes flitting to him.

His eyes zeroed in on your chest, but instead of making a lewd comment like you had expected, his face hardened before he turned away without saying anything, his jaw clenched. Your brows knitted together, but you kept quiet, your underwear joining the rest of your clothes on the floor, before you stepped into your shower, turning it on.

The water sobered you up a little, the cool droplets feeling refreshing against your skin. While your head was still in a daze, it lifted slightly, and embarrassment started to settle deep in your bones. You made quick work of washing the lingering scent of the weed of your skin, before you turned the water off, the stream becoming smaller drops, before the water stopped completely. You didn’t get out immediately though, trying to let go of what you were feeling, having to face Rafe, who was still here to take care of you, despite your behavior.

When you finally got out of the shower, your clothes on the floor were gone, and so was Rafe. Before he had left, he had put out your bathrobe and a towel, which you quickly used to dry off and wrap your hair. Exiting your bathroom, you went back into your room, and it looked like Rafe was never here, except for the glass of water that stood on your nightstand.

You picked it off, taking a sip and before you knew it, the glass was empty. You hadn’t even realized how thirsty you were until you’d seen the crisp water. With a small sigh, you pushed the empty glass back on the nightstand, before crawling into your bed, knocking out as soon as your head hit the pillow.

The next morning, when you woke up, you felt slightly less terrible than you had anticipated. The sun filtered in through the closed blinds, which you didn’t remember closing, though you did appreciate the sun not completely shining into your bedroom.

Throwing the blankets back, you got out of bed, your movements slow. With a yawn, you padded to the bathroom, turning the lights on your feet coming to a halt when you caught your reflection in the mirror.

“Fuck.”

Slowly, you traced your finger tips across the splatter of hickeys that JJ must have left on your chest. You honestly hadn’t even noticed.

Rafe knew you lied to him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: so there were two version of this ending, one with rafe tucking precious in and the one you got. if you don't like it, @eldrith said to go the angstier route so complain to her <3 BUT WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS???!!?! <3

[send4venus]

do u think you could write something about reader faking an orgasm and then abby finding out n she is maaddd 🙈

it’s okay if not tho !❤️

I can absolutely try !! I hope what I wrote is somewhat close to what you were envisioning but either way, I hope you enjoy <33

Warnings - basically the ask, essentially porn with no plot therefore it's not written with any specific AU in mind so feel free to interpret it into whatever one you want, smut (MDNI), tribbing, unintentional edging, faking a orgasm, lowkey kinda awkward at the beginning, overstim, oral & fingering r!receiving, praise, abbys just a sweetheart who wants to take care of you

this is also definitely longer than it should’ve been but oh well

"fffuck baby you feel so good”

Abbys on top of you grunting and whining as she grinds her wet pussy across your’s and you’re also whining underneath her with furrowed brows however, unlike Abby, you can’t seem to reach that peak you so desperately want and need.

No matter what you try to do in an attempt to gain more friction whether it be grinding up into abby or trying to follow her movements, you only receive light grazes when abbys clit drags against yours which keeps you pent up and frustrated. And it definitely doesn’t help that your focus is off as your mind is crowded with the stress of midterms. All you want to do is have sex and cum with your girlfriend, but by the looks of it, that just wont be happening, and you’re too nervous to tell her.

Finally, Abby lets out a long drawn out string of curses and quick breaths as she leans down to lay on top of you as she orgasms and you feel her cum dripping onto your cunt and the feeling makes you let out a whine.

Abbys still grinding against you kisses along your neck and you can hear her whimpers and see her legs shake from overstimulation but you know she isnt gonna stop until you finish, so mentally you apologize to her for what you’re about to do and let out a series of faux high pitched whimpers moans and curses and grind up into her, hoping that she wont focus on it enough and just mistake her own juices as yours and that your moans are convincing enough.

But Abby knows you. She knows exactly what you sound like when you finish, she knows how your clit twitches and hole squeezes around nothing, your sloppy attempts at getting a few last bits of friction in, and she knows that whatever it was that you just did, definitely wasn’t real.

Abby quickly sits up and positions herself over you with her arms on either side of your head and you’re trying your best to avoid her confrontational gaze.

“baby?”

You respond with a quick ‘hm?’ before finally looking at her, trying to make yourself appear as innocent as possible.

“did you just.. fake an orgasm?”

“what?! n-no of course not why would you-“

“don’t you dare fucking lie to me”

You swallow thickly. You knew she could see right through you and her assertiveness always made your facades crumble. So after a few seconds of silence and her pointed eyes staring right into yours you finally break

“okay i did im sorry! im just too distracted and i didn’t wanna ruin it for you and because i know how overstimulated you get and you wouldn’t stop until i came and-”

You rambled on and on explaining it to her and then she started… laughing? You stopped talking,suddenly feeling extremely embarrassed and exposed.

“baby its okay, i just wish you would’ve told me, i just gotta make it up to you now”

Your brows furrowed at the last part of her sentence

“make it up to me how?”

“ fuck right there! “

Abby’s tongue plunged in and out of your cunt, occasionally stopping and reaching up to circle or suck on your clit, she had already made you cum beforehand letting you grind up and down on her thigh, allowing you to get the friction you were so desperately craving, leaving you fucked out yet still begging for more.

Your moans and curses bounced off the walls as the noises abby made while eating you out as if you were her favorite food, and if Abby was honest, you might as well be.

“abs shit don’t stop m’ gonna cum im so close please don’t stop”

Abby hummed in acknowledgment and sped up her pace, earning an extremely loud whine from you and you ground onto her face in an attempt to bring you to your peak sooner.

Within seemingly seconds you’re thighs were squeezing around abbys head so tight she almost couldn’t breathe as your orgasm crashed into you, although she wasn’t complaining. Your hand instinctively tugged on her messy braid, causing her to groan into your core, and the other you slapped over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your moans and curses.

She slowed her movements and your thighs and hands loosened up. Eventually she stopped and you started to catch your breath, assuming she was done but it hitched when you felt her fingers curling up into you.

“i know baby just one more ‘kay? you can handle that right sweet girl?”

You nodded your head responding with a mumbled ‘can handle it abs’ which made her smile. She sat above you now, her eyes focused on watching how your cunt squeezed around her fingers as she pushed the remnants of your previous orgasm back in.

You felt that same bubbling feeling in your core embarrassingly quickly. You tried to tell abby through broken whines and curses, wrapping your hand around her wrist even, but couldn’t seem to get the words out as your brain was beginning to short circuit and your body began to twitch due to the overstimulation.

“shh i know baby go ahead i got you”

Not too long afterwards your legs shook and abby felt you squeeze around her fingers so tightly she could barely move. She leaned down and kissed you gently as you succumbed to your orgasm. the kiss was sweet and sensual, a stark contrast to the shocks being sent through you as she rubbed your clit.

Eventually every little thing became too much to handle and you brought your hand up to her chest to gently push her off. Abby sat up and removed her fingers, smiling as she admired her work, licking you off her fingers and leaning down to give you a quick peck on your lips, allowing you to taste yourself, before smiling against them

“told you i’d make it up to you”

[shanesevikasfuckdoll]

Can I butter your muffin? 🦾

Imagine, Sevika buttering your muffins?! 😍🦾

🚫Men and Minors DNI🚫

You like baking—No, you love baking. You wake up early in the morning to bake some bread, or pastries for Sevika. You enjoy it, it calms your mind. Sevika likes seeing you be in your own little world sometimes, playing some tunes, humming, and swaying your hips, while mixing ingredients together. You're rarely ever messy too. You always say "A clean kitchen is key to being a good chef/baker" You're a good cook too. You know how to cook all of Sevika's comfort foods, but for fun, you bake alot.

You often visit Silco's office to hand out some cupcakes, cookies, pies, or brownies. Sevika loves this about you, how caring, and generous you are. When she had a particularly stressful day, you'd just pull something sugary out of the oven you baked early that morning, and put it in Sevika's mouth. She doesn't like overly sweet foods, so you often make a different batch for her with much less sugar.

Her favourite baked goods from you are bread, pastries, pies, and muffins. She often watches you bake, and she just zones out, and she just stares at you for long periods of time studying you, and then get surprised when you're don, like "How did you make that, into that?!" She says pointing to the ingredients, and to your creation. You chuckle at her, "Sevika, you've been watching me make it for the past hour, what do you mean how?" You guys just laugh, and eat it together. She likes it, and she wasn't much of a sweet tooth before, and she still isn't, but she consumes much more sugar from being with you for only a couple months, than she did her whole life.

Sevika once tried to help you bake a carrot cake. she had gotten you carrots smuggled from topside, and she brought 3 bags full of em. You had already made your batter, and left to go to the bathroom, and let Sevika to finish the work for you, since it was an easy task. Atleast, you thought so. Her job was to smush the carrots, and put it in the already made batter. She was only instructed to put 3 cups of grated carrots, mix it, and stick it in the oven. When you came back, the carrot cake looked like a smoking pile of mush. She put too much carrots. The batter was already cooked, and putting it in the oven again would likely just burn it, but the carrot made it extra moist, the cake basically just looks like, mushed carrots. She put her face on your chest, and tell you "There's something wrong with the cake" to hide her embarrassment. You chuckle at her, and since there was no fixing it, you just plated it, and put some icing on it, and ate the mush with Sevika.

She said it was the best tasting carrot cake she's ever had. You just nod and roll your eyes at your girlfriend, and decide to give some to the neighbors that just had a baby, since the carrot cake wasn't too sweet, and it was mushy.

There where other times, in which Sevika offered to help, but always ending with either your kitchen ruined, or your cakes. And with that you said enough, and often times you just find ways to distract your girlfriend from coming into the kitchen. "U-uhm, babe, I think that show you're watching is on, it's 4:30." You remind her, and she'd withdraw her offer, and go to the living room to watch her favourite show. You always timed your baking hours to her being busy, and so instead of you saying sorry, it'd be her, (You psycho) Unless it's time to wash the dishes, and with that, you check mate her again, "You're always busy, babe!" with a little reverse psychology, but you only ever do that in those circumstances. You hate the dishes, so it's valid.

One rainy afternoon, you were baking Sevika's favourite muffins, while she was laying on the couch, reading a book. You were about to pull it out of the oven, when Sevika clears her throat. "Is your muffin buttered?" She asks, and you look at her raising an eyebrow, confused. She grins at you, and clears her throat again, "Would you like me to butter your muffin?" She asks, with a look in her eyes, only you were able to see. You giggle, and roll your eyes. "Very funny, Sevi" She giggles at you, and makes grabby hands at you, and you quickly give her a stick of butter, and a muffin. "There, butter your own muffins" You joke at her. She pouts at you, so you roll your eyes, and take the muffin from her hands.

"There, butter my muffins, Sevi" And with that, she's rubbing the stick of butter on the muffin, as she snickers, and laughs at her own antics. You roll your eyes, and shove the muffin in her mouth. "There, isn't that better?" You tease, she's laughing as she's chewing the muffin, and suddenly her face looks like she just had a clever idea come in. She pulls your waist, and makes you sit on her lap. She looks at you, as she licks off the rest of the muffin residue on her fingers. She smirks at you.

"You're right. Eating your muffins is way better."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I might make a smut version of this tomorrow, called "Cream in my pie" I kinda wanna make this a series, I have so many sexual baking jokes, I won't seem to run out. For now, hehe, hope you enjoy.

Ps. I kinda took some inspiration from another carrot cake incident I saw on facebook I just read, and boy, was it funny, but I accidentally removed the tab, so now it's lost forever. I tried searching for like, 3 hours. But, props to that guy, hehe

[jybyls]

Haunted feelings || T.C

Navigation

Synopsis: Fear turned out to bring out hidden feelings. (Thanks @darkpoetdreamer for the idea)

Warnings: Fluff, strangers to friends (?) to friends to lovers, haunted house, bad writing, not proofread, I think that's all.

Words: 2.3k

- 📜🎧🍂 -

Sam, Chad, Tara, and you were sitting in the living room, bored to death. You had no ideas of what you could possibly do, so you were all just minding your business on your side. Well, I'm not really minding your own business. You kept glancing up at Tara every now and then.

You wanted to talk to her but you didn't know what about, it's not like you guys weren't friends, actually you guys were basically best friends but lately it's been oddly hard to act normal around her and you couldn't figure out why. Yes, you did not use your brain on that one.

"Guys !! I have plans !" Mindy exclaimed as she ran into the living room, almost slipping down. Y'all looked at her excited frame, wondering what she had in mind, "What, Mindy ? Wanna do a horror movie marathon ?" Chad mocked his twin sister, which only led to her giving him a dirty look. You slightly giggled at the scene in front, looking at Mindy to hear her answer.

"Don't say this. I might consider it." She said and that ended up with all of you screaming 'no' because you're sick and tired of watching the same horror movies Mindy propose, "No, please, let's not consider that as an option of a plan. What was your main idea ?" Tara spoke up, but your brain didn't listen.

It just went, 'blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name, background stuff..' Safe to say you're a simp. It didn't go unnoticed by Sam. Her older sister sense has been tingling toward you for a moment now.

She definitely knows something is up with her sister and you. She kept her suspicion to herself, tho.

"Will you all shut up and listen to me ? My plan is to visit a haunted house. Y'all are down, or are you too afraid to follow me ?" Mindy exclaimed with a teasing tone, taunting you to follow her in her amazing idea.

"If we don't agree to come with you, you won't go. You're too afraid to go by yourself, that's why you're asking us." Sam, more than calmly, explained her point, which was true, but the shorter twin would never admit it. "That's not the point ! Are you coming or what ?" She shouted, distracting you from Sam's words. You all laughed at her.

"You know what ? Fuck it." Tara said, "Where's that haunted house of yours, anyway ?" The younger Carpenter mocked her friend, not really believing that place existed. "It's down town." Mindy grimaced and Tara reciprocated it, "Very mature of you, girls." You sarcastically said before standing up to get your jacket. They watched you with a dumbfounded look on their face.

"Well ? We're going or not ?" You asked. The twin immediately smiled and screamed, "YES ! Let's go, bitches." And with that everyone is outside, walking to that haunted house. Chad and Mindy were in the front, arguing, Sam was right behind them, not even listening to their faded words, while Tara and you were awkwardly walking next to each other.

You quickly became friends when she moved to New York. You were going to the same college and had the same classes most of the time. You didn't know Tara's story, you didn't know what she experienced, well, at the beginning of your school year you didn't even know who was this Carpenter girl and why was everyone whispering stuff about her and her apparently psychotic sister.

You didn't really care, tho, you thought it wasn't your problem until one morning in your English class your teacher assigned the class for a group project and you got teamed up with Tara. Everyone's eyes were on both of you, but again, you didn't care. You didn't know her, how could you judge her ?

By the end of this class, you came to the conclusion that you liked her. She wasn't mean, like students said. She was actually sweet. She did come up strong at first, but how could you blame her when the whole world wouldn't listen to her until she had nothing left to say ? Well, you couldn't.

You couldn't blame her for anything. And you felt like that when you just met her, so it's safe to say that now that you're down baf for her, it made it impossible to blame her.

Even with her trauma and her sister's advices for some reasons she trusted you. She quickly opened up to you and talked about what happened to her in Wosboro. She talked about Ambet, her sister, her parents, everything. You know everything about her, and you took care of that information. Obviously, you trusted her equally.

You told her everything she needed and wanted to know about you. And ever since you never left each other's side. Eventually, Sam learned to appreciate you, and so did the twins. Oddly enough, everyone agreed with Tara when she suggested that she should be part of the group.

It's been three mot hs now that you're part of the group, and they can all easily say that they like you a lot. You're trusted, and your company is always more than welcome.

You've currently all arrived at the so-called haunted house, holding you phones up with the flash lights on because of the darkness inside. Tara and you stayed close to each other, Sam was behind the two of you while Chad and Mindy were walking to the front, but they quickly backed up with a jump once they heard a noise.

"Did you hear that ?!" Minday whispered-yelled to all of you with a hint of dramatist, "Yes, I fucking did ! What was that ?" Her brother answered with the same tone. "It's the floor." The short brunette rolled her eyes at their dramatist, "It's cracking." You continued, slightly laughing at their reactions.

They huffed, "Yeah. No, yeah, we knew. We were trying to scare you guys." The boy answered with fake confidence, trying to stand taller. "Sure." Sam tried to hold back her mocking smile. You and Tara weren't has strong tho, not only were you mockingly smiling but also directly laughing at them, shamelessly making fun of their sudden fear.

The twins rolled their eyes, huffing again but eventually gave up. They knew they couldn't win with Tara as an enemy. The brunette might be small, but God knows she can and will bite back. With no mercy whatsoever.

You all walked, trying to call in any spirit, but obviously, nothing happened. The scariest thing you saw was a drawing of penis probably made by some teenage boys who found this place before you. The twins kept getting scared by random noises, and they also kept claiming not to be, which was quite ridiculous but strangely funny. It gives Sam something else she can mock them about, and that's enough to make this woman content.

Midnight suddenly hit your watch. You wanted to go home. However, you didn't want to ruin everyone's fun, so you stayed quiet. You lazily follow your friends around. Your mind was far away, thinking about a thousand different things but mostly one thing. Actually, one person. Your best friend, Tara Carpenter. This girl has been haunting all your thoughts.

At first you believed it was nothing, 'It's just because she's my new best friend. That's why I'm always thinking about her.' You told yourself, trying to get some sort of reassurance even tho you knew you were lying to yourself.

Because you knew damn well you're not supposed to think about what your best friend's lips taste like, neither are you supposed to think about her hands on your body and yours on hers. But since you didn't want to ruin your friendship with her, you closed your mouth.

Whenever you felt like telling her she looked pretty, you didn't. Or you'd just say something like, 'cool outfit' or 'cute haircut', when in reality you wish you could tell her how stunning she looks, how you can barely brung yourself to believe that she's real because of her beauty. You wanted to ramble about how much you loved her freckles, how you wanted to kiss every single one of them.

But you couldn't. That was the best you could do. Small, furtive compliments. You were to fucking scared to say too much and risking making her uncomfortable. Or worst disgusted by you. That'd be the end of your world. And your world resolve around her so it's easy to say that if she rejects you in any way you'd be a heartbroken mess.

Little did you know that the girl you were crazy about was head over heals for you. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, she barely even admitted to herself to began with but damn was she down bad for you.

She didn't want to say anything by fear of ruining your friendship. You were so dear to her she would never forgive herself for losing you. So instead of trying any kind of move on you she decided to stay quiet and cherish every second she gets to spend with you.

"Can we head back home or do you still want to walk around like idiots ?" Sam spoke up, clearly tired of this little adventure. You immediately nodded, "Yes, let's go home. I'm getting tired of this." Tara followed you, "Yeah, we're going home." Mindy whined however she agreed.

"Alright, alright. Let's go home. This place's a dump anyway." Chad led the way out of the building, Mindy on the other was terribly disappointed. She wanted to see a ghost or any spirit so badly but nothing happened. Sad for her, but good for all of you because it meant you could head home with a quiet Mindy.

The walk back home was full of teasing against the upset girl who kept huffing and rolling her eyes. You and Tara didn't participate much to the teasing since you shared earplugs with your shared playlist blasting in your ears. To make sure the earplugs wouldn't fall you stayed close to each other, your fingers brushing against one another. Your heartbeat went faster as you hardly blushed, thanks to the darkness it wasn't visible to anyone.

You hesitated for a moment before taking all your courage and interviewing your pinky with hers. You were about to pull away but she was faster to react, squeezing your pinky with hers. You looked down at your hand, a shy smile appeared on your face. You bit your inside cheek, trying to suppress your smile as you looked in front of you.

Beside you Tara was shamelessly smiling, evidently happy about what just happened. Neither of you spoke a word, the simple yet loving gesture meant more than anything.

The older Carpenter had a suspicious look on her face when she saw you and her sister hurrying upstairs the second everyone got home. She trusted you enough not to worry about anything, but her older sister instinct was hitting like crazy. She knew something was going to happen in this room. And she wasn't wrong.

You closed the door behind you as Tara connected her phone to her speaker, soft music was playing in her room. You sat on the chair of her desk while she sat on her bed. For a short time neither of you spoke, enjoying the calm music until Tara broke the slight awkwardness of this moment. "I think we need to talk." Her tone was eripus which cause you to panicked, "What-? What about ?" You faintly stuttered, your eyes widened a little bit. "About what happened earlier." She knew she was making you panick and this brat was savouring it.

You were overthinking like crazy, 'Did she just held my pinky by politeness ?', 'Did I make her uncomfortable ?', 'Oh my god. Did I just loose my best friend ?' Were one of the few questions that went through your brain when she mentioned what happened some minutes ago.

You shakingly breathed out, "What about it ?" You anxiously fidgeted with your rings, waiting for her answer but your mouth had other plans. "Did you not like it ? I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I really didn't mean to. It's the last I ever want to do. I love you too much for that."

Fuck.

Maybe you should learn to think before speaking in anxious situations. You both froze at your final words. You tried to speak again but nothing came out of your mouth. Oh, you definitely screwed it.

"You love me ? Like love me, love me ?" Tara asked but again you couldn't find any words to answer so you just nodded. She was dumbfounded. She didn't know how to react. She dreamt of this moment but never expected it to actually occur.

A long silence came between you, even the music couldn't make the situation less awkward. You were so incredibly ashame. You felt like you were burning. You finally found some words, "I should go. I'm sorry." You stood up however it wasn't in Tara's plan to let you go anytime soon. "No, no. Sit back down." Her tone was enough to make you melt. You listened without thinking twice, sitting back down on your chair.

The brunette shook her head and tapped the empty place next to her on her bed, quietly telling to sit next to her. You understood her command and moved to sit next to her.

As soon as you were next to her, her hand found yours. "You didn't make it uncomfortable. Yes, I liked it. And I love you too." She gently whispered, her soft smiled grew on her face, "Like love me, love me ?" You murmured, you barely had the strength to find your voice. The whole thing was unbelievable.

Tara chuckled then nodded, "Like, love you, love you." She nudged your shoulder which caused you to follow her chuckle. "How long have you liked me for ?" You quietly asked, "For too long. So what do you say we stop waiting, hm ?" She smirked as she looked at you. You instantly nodded, "Yeah, that sounds great." You smiled, squeezing her hand.

Waiting this long was worth it, you're finally with the one you love.

- 📜🎧🍂 -

A/n: Rushed end because I'm tired. This was supposed to be a Halloween fic- my bad lol. Have a good day/night. I hope you forgive me for how bad this is. Love y'all <3