#betty x y/n

[jesterwriting]

reacting to you getting kidnapped and being grievously injured. both recovery and death routes

pairing: trafalgar law x reader, crocodile x reader, doflamingo x reader (separate)

contents: kidnapping, blood, death, grief, general angst, and a little but of toxicity from doffy because let's be real here.

word count: 1.9k words

The stench of iron clouded your senses. Despite the heat, you shook uncontrollably, barely able to curl in on yourself. Numbness spread from your chest outward until the pain you had once been so intimately acquainted with felt like nothing more than a distant memory. You could barely hear over the blood rushing in your ears. There were voices above you, but they were far too muffled for you to make out anything aside from sharp, jeering laughter. A kick to your ribs made pain bloom from your abdomen before it tapered off into nothingness. It was supposed to hurt. Why weren’t you hurting anymore?

It had been a long time since you had been so afraid. She was an old friend, one you hadn’t been visited by ever since you met your partner. You were a weak little thing, especially in comparison to them. It had never been more obvious than now, left more of a pile of meat and bone rather than a person on the rickety floor of the old shack you’d been dragged into.

All it took was a distraction. Today was your birthday, and you were so focused on thinking about your special day, that you were taken by surprise. A sob rattled from your chest as your terror faded away, slipping from your grasp, just as your blood spilled from the wound on your belly. As if to catch the fleeing emotion, you clenched your fist tight enough for your fingertips to bury themselves into the meat of your palm. All you felt was a dull pressure.

I think I’m dying.

Whether you wanted to or not didn’t matter anymore. Another weak sob shook your body. Looking down, you acknowledged that you could reach out and touch your insides. All it would take was an exploratory hand and an insatiable curiosity, neither of which you thought you were capable of at the moment. It wasn’t until you looked up did you realize one of your eyes was swollen shut. Or missing, you thought tiredly. It wasn’t like it would matter anymore. There was no surviving this.

Acceptance did not come easy. You wanted to fight, you wanted to scream, beg, cry, anything, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. As one last act of defiance, you flexed your toes in your boots. Even that minute task felt monumental, like you were at the last stretch of a marathon.

“I don’… Wanna-” You didn’t want to die.

There was someone waiting for you. Someone strong, someone who protected you, who loved you. Someone whose notoriety got you in this position in the first place. If you were a lesser person, you would blame them for what happened to you.

Where were they when you needed them most? You did nothing to deserve this. It wasn’t fair. You inhaled a sharp breath as tears poured down your face, mixing with your blood to create a pinkish puddle on the floor. The fact of the matter was: it wasn’t their fault, and as easy as it was to blame yourself, you knew it wasn’t yours either. Those who were at fault were above you, drinking and laughing over your battered body like they weren’t soon to follow. Your lips twitched upward at the thought. At least you would be avenged. It was a small mercy, but one you indulged greedily.

You didn’t hear the door open, nor did you see who entered, but judging by the horrified faces of your assailants, you could wager a guess. Your body moved as if on autopilot, unbroken arm sliding across the floor towards your lover, smearing gore across the wood as you reached for them. It was a shame that this was it. You only hoped they would move on without you.

If only you got to say goodbye. If only you were able to tell them not to hide from your bones, but build something new with them. As if they could bury your spine in the ground and you would sprout anew, whole and intact again.

As your vision faded to black, you caught your lover's expression. It was…

Trafalgar Law

Fear. It was only there for a second before blue light filled the enclosed space and the men who surrounded you were diced into tiny little pieces. Law would not allow his emotions get the better of him, not when you were in critical condition. Your heart was still beating. That meant he had time, he wasn’t too late. Steady hands — but, oh, how they shook when he was done with you — stitched you back together, piece by agonizing piece. Even when he was done, Law wouldn’t rest. He would spend his days watching you, counting your breaths with the rise and fall of your chest.

Recovery would be slow, made even slower by his insistence to treat you as if you were made of glass. He would be more irritable than usual, especially if you went against his orders as your doctor. If he had to strap you down to keep you from moving and reopening your wounds, so be it. As long as you were alive by the end of it to scold him for it, he didn’t care. Law could not fathom how close he was to losing you, and it will take a while to process. He might come off as wishy-washy, some nights holding you as tight as your injuries would allow, breathing in your scent as if it was the last time he would see you. Other’s, Law would throw himself into his work, so as not to allow himself to think, avoiding you when he wasn’t treating you.

If Law lost you, he would close himself off entirely. Whatever walls you had managed to tear down would return stronger than ever. He wouldn’t allow himself to mourn properly, rather, he would throw himself back into his plans full force. Barely eating, barely sleeping, barely living. The crew can tell he’s not handling your loss well, though whoever attempts to bring it up is subjected to a brutal verbal lashing from their captain. It isn’t until night comes and Law finds himself in a cold, empty bed would he allow himself to cry.

Sir Crocodile

Disbelief. Whatever Crocodile expected, it was not this. While he certainly did not expect you to single handedly beat your attackers into submission, he certainly didn’t expect to find anyone stupid enough to so brutally harm someone that belonged to him. Crocodile did not trust easily. Many said that he did not trust at all. The fact that the one person that he allowed in was inches from death was enough to make his stomach churn. He would waste no time with the fools who attacked you, dispatching them swiftly before he contacted the best doctors at his disposal to treat you. As much as he would love to whisk you away into his arms, Crocodile knew moving you while you were so injured was not a good idea. Instead, he would crouch next to you and keep you awake until the doctors arrived. As if you would break, he would hold your smaller hand in his, gently brushing your blood-smeared hair from your forehead with his hook.

Recovery would be spent in the lap of luxury, showered with not only gifts, but more of your lover’s attention than ever before. That wasn’t to say Crocodile usually neglected you, it was the fact that he was a very busy man. Normally, he would be in meeting after meeting. Now, with you laid upon silk sheets and covered in bandages, Crocodile was by your side twenty-four/seven. He would spend his days relaxed in a plush chair by your side, either reading the newspaper or filling out paperwork. The doctors who treat you would never be alone with you, always under Crocodile’s threatening stare, as if daring them to slip up in some way.

If Crocodile lost you, he would be numb. He would attempt to go back to his life before you. While he knew it wouldn’t be easy, he didn’t realize how your ghost would haunt him. Your pillow still carried the scent of your shampoo, the sweets you kept hidden in his desk would crop up from time to time, and the indent on the cushion of your favorite chair would not fade no matter how many times he flipped the cushion. On busy days, Crocodile found himself looking for you in his office, always ready with a silly quip or observation he would huff at, only to be met with hollow disappointment when he found nobody there. He goes full scorched earth, ridding himself of all your possessions, attempting to cut you from his life entirely. Even then, he still dreams of you.

Donquixote Doflamingo

Rage. You were his. The threat of his wrath should be enough to guarantee your safety. But it didn’t, and here you were, barely breathing at the feet of scum that were worth less than the mud on his shoes. Doflamingo kills them swiftly — it was a shame he couldn’t take his time punishing them, you, however, took precedence — before he finds himself by your side. He prods you, as gentle as he is capable of, with the tip of his shoe. When you squirm, he releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A good partner was hard to come across, and while Doflamingo was not picky with his flings, he did prefer someone with a little more substance to rule beside him. You would be hard to replace. Doflamingo calls for the best doctors in Dressrosa to attend to you. While he waits, he allows you to dirty his pink jacket with your blood, draping it on top of you so he doesn't have to look at your battered form for longer than he has to. While he would never admit it, not to himself and never aloud, seeing you so broken left a pit in his stomach.

Recovery would be tedious. Without you around to terrorize tease, Doflamingo finds himself bored with his daily comings and goings. More often than not, he’s beside your bed, frowning down at your sleeping form, waiting to get your reaction to some ridiculous, teasing notion he had in store. He hates seeing you so unresponsive. Doflamingo is used to your laughter, your stuttered words, your shy expressions, not whatever this is. It isn’t until now that he realizes just how attached to you he has gotten. For the hundredth time since Doflamingo found you, he regrets not torturing the scum who hurt you more. Once you awake, you will be confined to the palace until further notice. You will only be safe if you are within his grasp, and he knows now more than ever, that he will never let you go.

If Doflamingo loses you, he will be furious. The doctors who were supposed to save you are unceremoniously killed in his rage. And so is anyone unlucky enough to cross his path for the next few days. It isn’t long before Doflamingo is looking for your replacement. The palace is empty without your presence, and there is a you-shaped hole he intends to fill before he can think too hard as to why he misses you so much. No one is good enough for him. No matter how many applicants he gets, no matter how many new playthings color his life, none of them will ever be you. Doflamingo finds himself discarding people from his life quicker than usual, especially if they did something you would never do.

[chloe-skywalker]

Showing Off - Riverdale

Archie pinning x Fem!reader

Serpents x reader

Northside x reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 706

Summary: Archie always showing off for you his neighbor. Not knowing you're a Serpent, dating one, and basically like Fp’s little girl.

Authors Note: I put it as Riverdale because I didn’t feel it played with any character enough to put at the top.

Masterlist

Riverdale Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Does he always do that?” Betty asked as her and Veronica watched out y/n’s bedroom window. They were currently having a sleepover but Archie and some of the Bulldogs were playing football out in the street.

“Yup.” Y/n let out a frustrated sigh as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail.

“Wow, Archie Andrews being a show off.” Veronica said amused as she to watched the redheaded boy.

“He never stops.” Y/n stated shaking her head as she glanced out the window for a second.

“Do you know why?” Betty questioned moving to sit across from y/n on the bed.

“I think he likes me, but if he knew anything about me. He wouldn’t.” She told them shaking her head. It had been going on for months at this point.

“Why do you say that?” Veronica tilted her head at Y/n’s statement. Confused about what she meant by it.

“I’m a Serpent Veronica. Archie hates the Serpents. And besides, I’m dating Sweet Pea.” Y/n shrugged and gave them a tight lipped smile, but it became real at the mention of Sweet Pea.

“I will say I love Archie and he’s a good guy but, Sweet Pea treats you like a princess.” Betty smiled at Y/n. Betty had known Archie forever but she had firsthand witnessed how Sweet Pea treats her friend in their relationship. And even Betty didn’t think Archie could treat her that good.

“Correction. He treats you like a Queen.” Veronica smiled coming around to sit on the bed with the both of them.

Y/n smiled widely at their comments. “Plus with all the beef going on between the bulldogs and the Serpents. It’d be worse once he knew FP treats me like a daughter.”

“FP treats you better than my father treats me.” Veronica admitted letting out a sigh that had frustration and sadness in it.

“Sorry V.” Betty rubbed her friend's upper arm.

“No worries. Hey, do you think FP could honorarly adopt me too?” Veronica asked y/n jokingly.

“I mean if you ask.” Y/n shrugged her shoulders but they all started laughing, not being able to hold it anymore.

It was only a week later at a game for the school that the girls along with y/n and Toni noticed Archie doing it again. Watching.

“He’s doing it again.” Veronica noted nudging the y/h/c-ed girl scooted next to her on the bleachers.

“This is just sad to watch.” Betty said watching the boy she grew up with, with squinted eyes. 

“Sweet Pea’s going to be here soon. And for the record this is fun to watch.” Toni interjected as she sat down next to them. She found Archies actions to be quite entertaining much like Veronica but for different reasons.

“Once he sees the back of my jacket he’ll stop.” Y/n nodded, taking a hand full of popcorn from Toni. Y/n made sure to wear her Serpents jacket tonight. This needed to stop.

“Hey, babe.” Sweet Pea greeted kissing her on the cheek. Toni scooted over fromY/n so Sweet Pea could sit down next to her.

“Hey.” Y/n greeted Sweet Pea before he could sit down she stood to hug him, making sure her jacket faced the field as she did so.

“And he noticed.” Betty pointed out as the couple sat down.

“Wow.” Veronica shook her head with wide eyes. “Men.” she scoffed, as they all watched the attraction Archie had to Y/n leave him as he saw her jacket.

“What are they talking about?” Sweet Pea asked leaning in to whisper in Y/n’s ear.

“Nothing.” Y/n answered but she could tell he didn’t believe it. So Y/n turned a tiny bit to face him with her body, grabbing his hand bringing it to her lips. “Trust me Pea. If it was something worth telling, I’d tell you.”

“She would.” Betty stated in agreement.

Toni knew problems would only get worse if Sweet Pea knew exactly what they were talking about. “You or FP would be the first to know.”

And it was true but let's just hope Archie had the sense to not ever bring it up.

~

Tag List:

@gruffle1 @padawancat97

[nekojaf]

Did you think Quik E Lot only had two workers? No there's three. Betty is a high schooler who works weekend mornings. She's there to witness shenanigans every now and then. Fun fact she was Y/N's last worker after her previous two other people had quit for various reasons.

I have quite a few side cast characters for my different stories I really need to put them out there.

Anyway now I can put her into stuff without confusing people.

[alwayschaoticbouquet]

I am so not sorry.

[jesssssssssica]

betty m.m & c.p

i’m a big folklore love triangle lover! so i made this, sorry if it wasn’t that good! i probably will make this a 3 part series for each of the songs!

mason i’m sorry okay

it was a mistake and

it’ll never happen again

i swear

——————————————————

there you go again y/n.

ruining a perfect relationship.

she felt so guilty but relieved that he knew, but oh how she did regret it.

she regretted it from the moment he ignored her and wouldn’t speak to her for days, continuing to regret it as he would move away from her when at training.

all this cold shoulder from mase made her question what it would take to get him back. what if she showed up to the party that ben had invited her to maybe that would work but would he believe her if she said it was just a summer fling and was a mistake. or would he tell her to fuck herself.

she was only young, barely living in the world and not knowing anything apart from the fact that she missed him.

she could recall how it happened, how it started.

she had meant to get a lift from her friend but traffic was so bad she would have had to wait for hours, so instead of standing about in the freezing cold, she began her treck to her home. not even 10 minutes later a car pulled up next to her, the window rolling down revealing chris.

now y/n knew christian was an attractive man and she was wary of the affects he had on her, so she found it odd that when he asked if she,

“needed a lift”

her first response was a short and simple,

“yes”

and that’s how she find herself rolling around in her sheets, getting lost in the passion and love that was being made between the two, yet every time the sun came to rest, y/n couldn’t stop thinking of her boy at home.

now as her fingers hovered above the keyboard, wondering how to put into words that she was outside. she had planned out what was going to happen and how to get mason to see that she truly was sorry.

so she showed up to bens party, asking herself and coming up with scenarios like would he have her? or would he love her? and would he kiss her right there and then on that porch after understanding how much she loved him?

she was only young but she knew that he was the one.

wanting him in her arms again, as she wears his nicest cardigan, kissing in her car again as they stopped at a streetlight.

oh boy she missed him.

[honeybear-yammy]

Letter

Warnings: none

Pairings: Betty Cooper x Female Reader

Summary: In which Betty writes Y/N a letter with a confession in it.

© Honeybear-Yammy, please do not steal, translate, copy, or transfer my work.

Dear Y/N,

Hey, it's Betty. I had something that I really wanted to tell you and I felt most comfortable doing it through a note. I know I could have called, texted, even told you in person. I know there is a bunch of ways I could have done this but, I decided to do it through a note.

I know we have been friends for a long time. Actually, we have been friends since we were little kids. I love that we have been friends for so long and that we have stayed so close but, I guess that also makes this kind of harder for me to do.

I just don't want to ruin our friendship. I am just scared that the thing I want to tell you will ruin everything between us and I really don't want that to happen. I would be so sad and feel so guilty if it ruined everything. 

Anyways, I should just get to the point. Alright, here goes nothing...

I like you Y/N. I like you a lot. I have had a crush on you for the longest time now and I was always just too scared to confess my feelings to you because I was kind of scared of getting rejected but I was even more scared about losing you completely.

Because I would never ever want to lose you as a friend. Even if you didn't feel the same way about me I would still want to be your best friend even though it may be awkward for awhile after my confession.

Anyways, I will let you process what I have told you and you can get back to me when you feel ready to. I hope to hear from you soon. 

From, Betty

Author's Note: tysm for reading!

[morgandr]

Imagine:

Betty Davis arriving at a party looking around for you.

——————————————————————————-

(NOT MY GIF!)

(Betty Davis X Reader)

——————————————————————————-

(TAGS)

[betzabobababi]

"24"

Hello Hello! There aren't any pairings for this story I think? (for y/n) Enjoy!!! ANY feedback is appreciated. Please reblog if you like the story, it helps other people experience peoples writing/stories

Pairings: Peter x Mj Ned x Betty x (baby) Emerson Y/n x Lonelynes

Warnings: Swearing - Lonleyness - Weddings - mentions of being drunk (from song lyric)

Summary: Y/n is struggling to move on to the next chapter of their life.

Inspired by: 24-Sundial

"Im 24 now still at my parents house"

You had turned 24 a few days ago, and you still lived with your parents. You constantly tried to move forward and onward but it was difficult. Especially knowing that you did but didn't want to leave Queens.

"Thought I would have figured it out"

You needed a change of scenery but you didn't want to be in a place completely new. So you thought why not move in with my sister. And that worked well until she broke up with her high school sweet-heart and moved to LA. By then you had started to save money so you could move out and move to the outer part of town.

"Friends getting married"

Peter your best friend since both of you were babies and the love of your life had recently gotten engaged to his high school sweet-heart. Michelle Jones, or as most people knew her Mj. She was one of the most bad ass women you had ever met. Coming in second place after meeting Pepper. You were happy for them you really were, but it hurt you on so many levels to see the one and only person you loved getting married, to someone that isn't you.

"One has a baby"

Ned and Betty had gotten married 2 years after high school and they had just brought the little bundle of Joy, Emerson into the world. Emerson looked like if Ned and Betty were conjoined together. Emerson was the carbon copy of both of them. Having both, their looks, brains, and attitude, Emerson was a tiny little baby Einstein in a stroller.

"I barely recognize this town"

Everything changed after high school. You would run into people that you talked to frequently during school, and now you wouldn't recognize them. They would frequently tell you the same thing "Oh you haven't changed at all!" You of course knew that. You knew that you hadn't changed since senior year. You also knew you Needed to change.

"Mama asked me what my plan is for the future"

Alas you ended up moving back in with your parents. You had gone to college but you were never able to actually get hired in the expertise you studied. Your mom would constantly ask you what you would do with your life. Your response was always the same. "I don't know mum, I believe in fate"

"Im 24 now thought I could finally settle down"

You stared at the dimly lit phone screen. It was a website to sign up for speed blind dating. You thought that if you couldn't get Peter then you'd do your best to move on. So here you were in an uncomfortable chair listening to the 10th guy of the night rambling on about how successful they are and how you're stunning and that the both of you would make perfect heirs for their companies.

"Parties end before im drunk"

"Friday night im tired as fuck"

"I dont know how I ended up like this"

"Can someone tell me what the hell I missed?"

You were sick and tired of living like this. You needed a way out. Everyone else was moving on succefuly why couldn't you do the same? Every night you would be laying in your childhood bedroom staring at the ceiling contemplating the meaning of life. Contemplating where you went wrong. Contemplating how you could turn your shitty life around.

"Got no friends, just lots of stress"

The day of Peter's and Mj's wedding finally arrived. You were Mj's Maid of Honor and you also walked Peter down the aisle. May had gotten into a car accident and badly broken her leg so you did her the favor of walking Peter down. Of course it hurt like hell to watch the love of your life and one of your best friends exchanging vows with the most perfect girl in the world.

"It feels like yesterday when we were kids"

You got the 'honor' of saying a speech for both Peter and Mj. You reluctantly walked up the stage and started saying your speech. For Mj it was just saying how lucky she was to find the most caring man you had ever met and having the privilege to marry him. For Peter though, it was a different story. Being his bestfriend meant you had full consent to say embarrassing stories about the both of you. Towards the end of your speech you broke down crying. You brushed it off saying they were happy tears but in reality they were tears of acceptance. You cried because you accepted the fact that you'd be alone forever. You accepted 'giving' your best friend 'away'. You accepted the fact that Peter was never meant to be yours.

"Can someone tell me what the hell I missed? 'Cause I don't know

"Sleep till the sun's down, another breakdown

Feels like the days are all the same

New type of anxious, school never taught this

And what the fuck are taxes anyway?"

You would stay In bed all day and cry the whole time after the wedding. Everysingle day was the same. Eat-Work-Cry-Sleep over and over and over again. Bills were piling up. It's not that you didn't have the money, its more of like you not having the motivation to do anything.

"I tell myself I won't be cynical and bitter

And now I see it when I'm looking in the mirror"

You needed to leave the shell. You needed to get your ass up and work your ass off. You Needed Change

"I'm 24 now, wondering when I will be okay"

[girltomato]

sweet girl: the soft launch attempt

max verstappen x fem!reader

no warnings

max and his author!gf attempt to soft launch their relationship, but y/n's readers are amateur detectives and the orange army are just there for the ride.

fc: phoebe dynevor

liked by yourbff, harpercollinsuk and 30,281 more

yourusername quiet shh shh

( ♫ It's Oh So Quiet - Betty Hutton )

view all comments

yourbff missing u🤍🤍🤍 have lots of fun bb

⤷ yourusername i have so much to catch u up on🤭🤭

user1 congrats on being a nyt bestseller (again), bloodhound is insane

⤷ yourusername ty cutie💓

user3 the song... girl u aren't slick😭😭

user2 dear mystery man pls treat her like a queen she deserves it🙏🙏🙏🙏

user6 if all my books were million sellers i too would spend my free time on the beach with a hot man

liked by 12,403 people

f1gossip Eagle eyed twitter fans believe they have discovered the identity of Max Verstappen's new girlfriend.

24 year old Y/n L/n is a 3x New York Times best selling author and is shortlisted for the Booker Prize Award 2023 with her second novel Swan Song. She released her third novel, Bloodhound three weeks ago to critical acclaim.

She was spotted spending time on a yacht in St. Tropez with Max earlier this week and fans connected an Instagram post shared by the author and a story posted by Max the same day.

Max has admitted to not being a big reader, claiming to have only read four books in an interview earlier this year - two of which where L/n's novels. He began following her in 2021, she followed him back in early 2023.

Could we be seeing a new couple in the paddock soon??

Share your thoughts and opinions below.

view all comments

user27 a wag with a real job, we have entered the glory days

user82 followed since 2021🤭🤭 max verstappen u simp

user49 let's see how the wannabe wags and gold diggers react to this😭😭

⤷ user20 i know some paddock regulars just started sobbing

user63 omg i love her books i never expected this crossover

user91 i'll believe it when i see it, max has always preferred the model type

⤷ user41 girl be serious have u seen y/n??

user58 max verstappen i was not familiar with ur game

user10 she's so pretty i hope this is true

my first post on this acc hi everyone. i have a few plans for the sweet girl universe but i am incapable of writing in chronological order sooo apologies. also working on a fem!driver oc who i love with my whole heart just trying to figure out how to format it. anyways i hope u enjoy.

likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[honeyedmiller]

Pretty Little Thing | Joel Miller

joel miller x oc!f!reader

rating: 18+, minors dni

synopsis: it’s summertime and you’re working at a retro diner on the outskirts of austin. you’ve seen many faces and heard many voices all in a passing blur; ones you’ve never really payed any mind to—until one handsome southern gentleman in particular catches your special attention, and he’s got a voice you’d recognize anywhere—one that’s gotten you off more times than you’d like to admit.

warnings: original female character, no outbreak (game) joel, joel has a hidden identity in this for a bit, joel is taller than reader, joel can pull reader’s hair, reader is mentioned to blush once, joel indulges in virtual sex work, joel has no kids in this, flirting, talks of masturbation, smut (protected sex, blowjob, consensual choking, spitting, hair pulling, many ass slaps, edging, squirting, name calling, ass play), no use of y/n.

word count: 5.3k

a/n: this is entirely self indulgent. sorry for the small writing hiatus, life has been insanely busy. thanks for being patient with me as i ease back into writing fanfic.

-

It was like clockwork. 

Every day was the same. 

The same regulars, the same orders being put in, the same rushes. 

The lunch rush usually died down around two, which gave you time to prepare for the dinner rush before five. 

It was funny, really. You never thought that such a tiny diner off of Interstate 35, tucked in a corner on the outskirts of Austin, would have such an attraction as it does. 

Maybe it was the house favorite flapjacks you guys sold. Maybe it was the friendly hospitality you and your favorite coworker, Betty, gave to new and familiar faces. Hell, maybe it was the half-decent coffee and the low prices for everything that kept everyone coming in and coming back. 

Either way, it was all the same every single day. 

Until today. 

Usually, there’d be no more than three stragglers from lunch, and no one would come in until around five. 

The little bell above the door chimed as someone walked in, and Betty tapped you on the shoulder with a pleading look in her eyes. 

You averted your gaze from the sugar pourers you were refilling, giving her a small smile. 

“Honey, I’m sorry, I was about to take my break. Can you take that table for me? I need a cig after this morning’s rush.” Her blonde-gray hair was in disarray and her voice was scratchy and desperate. 

“No problem. Enjoy your break.” 

“Bless you, sweetheart.” 

You brush off the straggling sugar crystals that stuck to your hands on your black apron, pulling out your pad of paper and pen before approaching the man that sat with his back facing you. 

You muster up the best smile you can before stopping at the booth, ready to jot down his order. 

“Hello sir, how are you doin’ today?” You ask, and he looks up from the menu with a grin. 

The first thing you notice is his eyes. They’re a warm and inviting shade of hazel; a mixture of a beautiful green that reflects off of his tan skin and an amber as smooth as whiskey. 

Then you notice his lips. Pink and plush. Kissable. 

And then there’s the smile hidden behind the lips. Bright, pearly whites that take your breath away and make your heart palpitate, because god, why is he so handsome? 

It’s like he won the genetic lottery or something.

The mustache above his lips and the scruff on his jawline matches his dark hair with a few silver strands peeking through; the only identifier of his prospective age. 

His lips pull up into a smirk as he watches you shamelessly checking him out. Truthfully, you want him to watch you watching him. 

He clears his throat and your eyes snap back up to his. You tilt your head to the side and study him for a moment further before he finally speaks. 

“I’ll take a black coffee n’ the number three please. Eggs over easy.” 

You write down his order and your brows furrow as he speaks. Something about his voice sounds so… familiar. 

“Midday breakfast?” You tease, and he offers you a shrug and a grin. “It’ll be right out, sir.” You gingerly take the menu from him and walk back behind the counter. 

His voice keeps ringing through your head as you ring in his order on the POS system. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but his voice was attractive nonetheless — deep and gruff, yet sweet and polite. 

Where the hell have you heard that voice before? 

And then it hits you. 

Fuck. 

Oh, fuck. 

That man’s voice has brought you more orgasms than you can possibly even count. 

In a desperate need to get yourself off one night, you explored your options until you came across a faceless account. It was his broad body and thick, muscular arms that caught your attention. And — yeah, okay, maybe his deliciously girthy cock, too. 

The final nail in the coffin was that thick, syrupy Southern drawl that reeled you in and immersed you in a world full of pleasure. 

His voice and groans alone have made you come harder than any man you’ve ever been with. 

Your throat goes dry as you look back at him, tucked into the booth he chose to sit at, looking at his phone. 

You mindlessly pour his coffee and bring it out to his table, legs seemingly floating in his direction.

You set the coffee cup down on his table. His large hand grabs the cup, making it look nearly miniature. 

Your mind was fuzzy and your core suddenly had an aching throb as you thought of his hands exploring your body; what they’d feel like all over you and — god, get a fucking grip. 

“Was there anythin’ else I can get for you?” You ask as nonchalant as you can muster up. 

“Nope, that’ll do it darlin’. Thank you.” The crinkles beside his eyes deepen in the slightest as he tosses a polite smile your way. 

“Food should be out in a couple of minutes.” You rap your knuckles on the table once before turning around to finish topping off the sugar pourers. 

The chef chimed the bell indicating the handsome man’s food was done. You wipe your hands on your apron once more before sucking in a breath. 

You decided to shoot your shot and call him out by his screen name. You were confident it was him. 

You saw no wedding band on his finger, either, so what the hell, right? Worst that could happen is he rejects your advances. 

You grab his plate from the kitchen window and head toward his table. Your palms start to sweat and you’re nervous as hell, because fuck, a face like that is hard to forget. 

You set the plate down in front of him and he softly thanks you. You hesitate for a second before tucking a stray hair that had fallen out of your braid behind your ear, shooting a wink his way. 

“Anytime, Mr. Ryder. Let me know if you need anythin’ else.” 

He pauses before looking up at you again, eyebrows furrowing. 

“How do you—?” He starts, clearing his throat as his eyes travel down your figure. 

“I’m a fan of your work.” You shrug, passing it off like it’s the most casual thing in the world. 

“I see,” He looks back at the now empty diner, gaze shifting back to you. “Wanna sit for a minute and chat?” His voice holds sincerity and — god, let it be — desire. 

You nod and hold a finger up to him. “Just a sec.” 

You walk back to the counter, catching Betty at a perfect time. She grins at you as she re-ties her apron around her waist. 

You jerk your head back to Ryder. “The guy over there wants to chat for a few. Mind if I take a break?” 

“Go ‘head baby. Not like we got a ton ‘a people to serve.” She laughs, and you shoot her a smile. 

“Thanks, Betty.” 

You untie your apron from your waist and walk back over to his booth. He gestures for you to slide into the side opposite of him, and you clumsily settle into the worn leather bench. 

He chews on a piece of bacon before his gaze roams your face, seemingly studying you before he swallows. 

“So, what’s the first video you watched?” He asks, and you feel your face burn with a blush. You thought he’d be more subtle, but it’s better to lay the cards on the table you suppose. 

“Truthfully, I’ve scrolled all the way to the bottom of your page and have probably watched every single one.” You shrug at your confession, and that pulls a smirk out of him. 

“What about your favorite?” His tone is almost challenging, but truthfully, he’s intrigued. Never did he think anyone could recognize him by just his voice. 

Joel was careful not to show his face on camera. He wanted to keep himself a mystery—the gruff, sexy voice of a suave cowboy and his perfect body that he shared with the world—a secret. 

“It’s probably gonna have to be the one where you’re pretty much just talkin’ the viewer through it and, fuck, this is kinda embarrassing but we’re already here,” You huff, and Joel shakes his head and urges you to continue. “When I watch that video, I’ve kinda timed it to make myself come the same time you do.” 

“Not embarrassin’, sugar. That’s the sexiest thing a woman has ever confessed to me.” 

“Yeah, well, when you got a voice like yours and a dry spell like mine, it’s the perfect mix for a most blissful—” Joel’s hearty laugh cut you off, and you couldn’t help but admire him from across the table. 

He was so fucking handsome and you genuinely couldn’t believe you were seeing the man who’s made you come more times than you can count without even fucking touching you, in person. 

“Can I see your notepad and pen real quick, baby?” He asks, gesturing down to your lap. You shuffle the items out of your apron pocket before sliding them across the table, and at the click of the pen, he starts to write something down. 

You lick your lips and cross your arms over your torso, lolling your head to the side. He clicks the pen once more before sliding it back over to you with the notepad. 

You look down at what he’s written, to see his fake name, phone number and an address. 

“Whenever you get off, gimme a call n’ come over if you’d like. No pressure though, sugar.” 

Holy fuck. 

No way in hell you’re passing up this opportunity, so you shoot a smirk his way and tuck the paper into your apron pocket. 

Play. It. Cool. 

“I get off in about,” You look down at your watch, twisting your lips to the side. “An hour.” 

You try to keep your voice steady, but your heart is thumping in your chest and your desperate, aching cunt. 

“Sounds good,” He raps his knuckles on the wooden table before grinning at you, nudging your foot in the slightest before he finishes off his breakfast for lunch. “Just the check, sugar. Then I’ll get out of your hair.” 

“I’d rather you pull it than get out of it.” You grin wickedly at the astonished man in front of you, sliding out of the booth. 

You walk away to the counter before he can retort and ring the check up for his meal, but before you can bring it back to him, he slaps two twenties on the counter before you. 

His thick fingers find their way to your wrist and give it a squeeze as he leans down to you and whispers his next words. 

“Hope I can satisfy you in more ways than one, baby. See ya in an hour,” He straightens back up before looking down at the twin Jacksons staring back at the both of you, “Keep the change.” 

He walks out without another word, without looking back, and it leaves you nearly winded. 

“What was that all about?” Betty asks, sidling up beside you as she gently nudges your ribs.

“Looks like I got a hot date.” You half joke. 

“If I was thirty years younger I woulda been all over that too, baby,” A hearty laugh escapes her and she shoots a wink your way. “Have fun tonight.” 

-

The hour goes by surprisingly fast and you find yourself almost scurrying to your car after you clock out. You toss your apron into the passenger seat of your car and immediately roll down the windows. 

The AC decided to give out on you about a week ago, and of course it was during a time where it was hotter than the devil’s fucking asshole outside. 

You groan as you close your eyes, the heat already making you miserable. At least the diner had a good central air system. 

You peel your eyes open to fish the paper out of your apron pocket with Ryder’s number and address on it, dialing the numbers scrawled across in blue ink. 

After the second ring, his rich voice picked up on the other end of the line. 

“Hello?”

“Hey Ryder. ‘M off work now if you still want me to head to your place.” 

“Hey sugar. Head on over. There’s a spot in the driveway for ya.” 

“See you soon.” 

Nerves coursed through your veins as the line went dead. You type in his address into your phone, and to your surprise, he only lived fifteen minutes away. 

You threw your car in drive and you were off, the hot air whipping through the cab of your car. 

It was truly unlike you to do something so bold like this. 

You never went to strangers houses, always ignored when you got hit on at the diner, rejected offers from several men for what would probably be a night full of mediocre sex—and yet, there was something about this man that you couldn’t shake off. 

Even with just video evidence of this man’s gruff voice, veiny cock and skillful hands, you could just tell he knew exactly what the fuck he was doing. 

It wasn’t long before you pulled up to a quiet neighborhood. His house was on the right hand side, and you pulled up into the driveway next to his black truck. 

You took a deep breath before looking at yourself in the mirror of your sun visor before touching up with some lip gloss. You spray your perfume on your pulse points before deciding to stop stalling and finally get out of your car before psyching yourself out. 

Your beat up work shoes scuff the concrete path leading up to Ryder’s door, and you swallow thickly before you knock. 

Thirty seconds later, a now shirtless Southern gentleman answers the door, hazel eyes catching yours as you stare up at him in awe. 

“Well fuck me.” You mutter under your breath as you study his handsome face and his thick, toned torso. 

“Tha’s the plan, sugar.” His deep voice shoots straight down to your core, nearly making you audibly moan. 

He steps aside to let you into his house, which is surprisingly warm and inviting. It’s cozy with its worn-in furnishings and family photos on the walls. It smells like him too; something earthy and musky and delicious. 

He guides you into the living room with his hand on your lower back, touch sending a chill down your spine. 

“Make yourself cozy, darlin’. Would y’like anythin’ to drink?” 

“Whiskey, neat please. If you have it.” You respond, and he softly smiles at you before nodding and retreating into the kitchen. You can’t help but watch him walk away with the muscles clearly rippling in his back as he walks, all the way down to the back dimples he has. 

There’s no fucking way this man is real. 

You sigh and settle onto the couch, folding your hands into your lap after setting your purse and keys on the coffee table in front of you. 

It’s only a couple of minutes before Ryder reappears before you, handing you a glass of amber liquid. You thank him and sip on it graciously, the smooth taste gliding down your throat and going straight to your already throbbing core. 

He sits next to you and slings his arm over the back of the couch, allowing himself to get comfortable as if this occurrence is the most natural thing in the world. 

Fuck, maybe it might be for him. You wouldn’t really be surprised considering the charm and suave demeanor he possesses. 

“You can relax, darlin’. ‘M not gonna try anythin’ or touch ya without your consent.” 

Your shoulders visibly relax at that, not even noticing they were tense to begin with. He didn’t give you bad vibes or scare you. He made you nervous—a feeling you haven’t felt with a man in a very long time. 

“So,” You start, voice scratchy from talking so much hours prior and the burn of the whiskey affecting your throat, “You usually bring women home like this?” You’re half teasing and half curious, wanting to see if this really is a regular occurrence for him. 

A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest and practically vibrates the whole couch. “No, sugar. You’d be the first t’ even recognize me just by my voice. Gotta say, ‘m pretty impressed with that. Guess you’re a regular viewer then, I take it.” 

Now he’s the one teasing, but there’s a knowing tone in his voice. You didn’t even have to say it. He knows. 

There’s really no point in denying how turned on he gets you, so you just… let it happen. 

You feel a little looser with the whiskey swimming in your veins, giving you the bit of courage you mustered up within the past minute or so. You sink into the couch further, spreading your legs enough to keep the man curious. 

He watches you wearily, eyes trained on your body and the signals you were emitting. 

“You’re the only man that can get me off now. You’ve got me wrapped around those skillful fingers, Mr. Ryder.” Your voice sounds more smooth and sultry than you expected it to, but it was definitely working in your favor. 

“These skillful fingers would love to show you a thing or two, baby.” His fingers twitch around the glass he holds tightly; clearly a form of self-restraint. 

You didn’t want him to hold back anymore. 

“Show me.” You say. 

A small groan emits from the back of his throat. 

You suck in a breath as your eyes notice his going completely dark, drowning in desire for you. His once bright hazel eyes have since been replaced with something deeper than a simple need to satiate. 

It was fucking carnal. 

He downs the rest of his drink and licks his lips, patting his jean-clad thigh. 

“Sit on my lap. Back against my chest.” He commands, and you try to smoothly maneuver yourself onto him just as he’d asked. 

Once you’re settled on top of him, he gently grips onto both of your knees to spread your legs apart so they’re on either side of his thick thighs. 

Your lips part and you don’t even notice you’re breathing heavier until you feel a soft kiss on your shoulder. 

“Relax, baby. ‘M gonna make you feel good. If you need me to stop, just tap my thigh twice and hard. Got it?” 

“Yes.” You whisper, nearly shaking in anticipation. 

“Good.” 

And his hands are grazing up your legs to the inner part of your thighs, delicately tracing your skin. Goosebumps raise at his featherlight touch, and before you know it, he’s spreading his own legs wider to spread yours. 

You were aching and damp even back at the diner as you sat with him in the booth, studying his handsome features. The cool air of the home hits the dampness on the cotton panties you wore. 

Ryder’s fingers made their way up to the lace trim of your panties, causing you to softly whimper for him. You genuinely didn’t think you needed anyone to touch you so fucking bad in your life. 

You didn’t want to come off whiny and absolutely desperate, so you kept your pathetic begging to yourself. 

“So wet already, pretty girl. This all for me?” 

You can’t muster up the words because your brain is simply mush at this point, and all you want is his fingers on you, and fuck, in you. 

“You know I respect you, right baby?” 

Respect you? 

You’ve only known this man—physically—for a few hours, albeit knowing his voice and his body long before he’d even tell you his real name. 

And yet, there’s a comfort in his presence. One that would have you willing to do nearly anything for him—with him. 

And all you could do was meekly nod your head at his words, his Southern twang dripping in honey—buzzing into your veins. 

You turn your head to look at him with a bewildered expression on your face, though, wondering why he’d ask such a thing. 

He shoots you a devilish smile. 

“Good, ‘cuz for the next few minutes it’s gonna look like I don’t.” 

“Oh, fuck.” You mewl, tossing your head back onto his shoulder. He noses at your jaw, littering kisses and small nips all along your jawline and neck as he slides your panties to the side.

He slides his middle finger through your slick slit, moving up to circle your already sensitive clit. You shudder at the touch, clamping your eyes shut as you softly moan. 

“Fuck baby, you’re drippin’ already. This what I do to ya? You get this wet when you’re by yourself and you’re bein’ a dirty fuckin’ girl gettin’ yourself off to my videos? Hm?” 

His deep voice vibrates through your body, finger traveling down to your entrance. He teases you as he slips the tip of his finger into you—nothing more—and moves it back out. 

He continues this a few times, and when you don’t answer him, he slaps your dripping cunt lightly. You gasp and grip onto his forearm that was wrapped around your torso. 

“Answer me.” 

“God, yes, I–I fuckin’ love your videos. You always get me this wet. Every time. You’re just so—fuck—goddamn hot.” 

He chuckles at your blabbering. “Hot, huh? You think that highly of me?” 

“Ryder,” You moan as he fully sinks his middle finger into you. He stops his movements and it takes everything in you not to rock your hips. 

“Joel.” 

“W-what?” 

“I want you moaning my real name, baby.” 

Joel. 

Joel. 

That name is somehow very fitting for him, and lucky for you, it rolls off the tongue easily. 

“Joel.” You test it, and his grip on you tightens. 

“Atta girl.” He praises, sinking a second finger into you. You moan at the feeling, long fingers hitting spots yours never could. He curls his fingers to hit that exact spot and you cry out in pleasure. 

You can feel Joel’s cocky smirk on his lips as he kisses your braided hair, likely in a complete disarray at this point. 

The squelching noise that reverberated throughout his living room was truly obscene, but he didn’t seem to mind one bit. In fact, it seemed to spur him on as he twisted his wrist and worked his fingers faster, pressing into that spot inside of you that had you choking on your own moans. 

Without warning, you felt yourself nearly at the brink of your orgasm—and Joel pulls his fingers out of you. You cry in desperation, the beautiful build up completely dissipated. 

“Not. Yet.” Joel’s mouth was next to your ear, nibbling at your lobe as he worked you through the edging. 

He didn’t stop after that, though. He kept the momentum going, sliding his other hand from your torso down to your swollen clit. He slowly starts to rub small circles onto the already overstimulated bundle of nerves, and you cry out a strangled moan as the feeling surges through your body. 

“Now.” He says. 

Your mind was going blank at this point and a pressure kept building and building and building—until you felt a huge gush, forceful and draining. Your eyes snap open to see clear liquid dripping all down the couch. 

“Fuck, Joel I’m sor—”

“Don’t you dare apologize baby. You ever done that before?” He asks, and you shake your head no. He moans at your wordless response and readjusts himself beneath you, and you can suddenly feel how hard he is in his jeans. 

Even through the denim he felt fucking big, and you knew you were in for it. 

“Let me,” You start, shakily sliding off of his lap and onto the floor. “Let me take care of you.” 

Joel watches you and the same muscle in his jaw ticks furiously. He nods without another word as you lean up to kiss the hot skin above his jeans, trailing your lips down to the hemline. You undo the button and zipper swiftly, and he lifts his hips to pull his pants and boxers down to his mid thigh. 

Your hunch was correct: he’s fucking huge. You swallow as you take in the sight of his cock in-person rather than over a screen, and it was even better than you’d imagined all those times. 

You gently grab the base of his silky flesh, giving it a soft squeeze as you move your hand to the tip. Your eyes flicker up to his, and he’s watching you intently. You smile sweetly up at him before bringing your head down to lick the pre come from his slit, moaning as you get a taste of the salty musk. 

Joel’s hand flies to your head, threading his fingers through the loose braid as you slowly lick your way down the vein on the underside of his cock. 

“So fuckin’ pretty,” You say, and he groans at your praise. “Even better than I imagined.” 

You bring your tongue back up to the tip and take him in your mouth this time, going as far down as you could before you gagged softly. 

“Fuck yeah baby, just like that. Doin’ so fuckin’ good for me,” He mewls as you set a faster pace, one of your hands coming to pump the rest of his cock you couldn’t reach with your mouth, the other gently fondling his balls. 

You moan around him as his silky flesh easily glides onto your tongue. You enjoy getting him off like this; unraveling him inch by inch just as he’s done to you many times before. 

He began to rock his hips up into your mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you try your damndest to not forcefully gag around him. 

“Mouth feels so goddamn good on me, honey. ‘M not gonna last much longer.” Joel confesses, and your tighten your lips around his cock to silently urge him to let go. 

It was only another minute until his hips completely stilled and his pulsing cock was drained, salty spend coating your mouth in haste. 

He groans loudly as he reaches down to cradle your jaw, slowly sliding your mouth off of him. You swallow his spend and sit back on your heels, looking up at him innocently. 

“On your knees, baby. Ass up.” He pats the spot next to him on the couch, and you happily oblige. He pulls the skirt of your uniform up over your hips and slides your wet panties down your legs so you’re on full display for him. 

You feel his hands slide over the globe of your ass, spreading you apart to get a good look at all of you. You suck in a breath for a second before you feel his fingers slide through your slick folds once more, teasing you so. 

“You ever had a man touch you back here? Pretty little thing.” He asks as his thumb circles the tight ring of your ass. 

“No.” You moan, closing your eyes as you press a cheek to the couch cushion. 

“Hm. ‘S a shame. Feels real good.” 

“Please, Joel.” You truly weren’t above begging for this man to touch you in any way possible. 

“Please what, sugar?” 

“Please—please touch me. Make me feel good. Even better than I already feel.” 

You turn your head more to lock eyes with him staring down at you with a look of determination and hunger. 

He keeps his eyes locked on you as he grabs his half-hard cock, reaching to the coffee table beside you both to grab the foil packet you didn’t even see until this very moment. 

He rips it open and slides it on before sliding his cock through your slick folds. You sigh in pleasure as your eyes flutter shut for a brief second before you open them again as his tip notches your entrance. 

“You ready baby?” 

You nod your head, but he shakes his. 

“Need your words this time darlin’.” 

“Yes Joel. Please.” 

He sinks into you slowly, his girth stretching you out so deliciously. It stung a little, because in truth, you’ve never been with anyone his size. 

Once he’s fully sheathed into you, he shoots you that same wicked grin before letting spit slowly dribble out of his mouth and onto your asshole. 

“Oh fuck me,” You whisper, moaning as his thumb circles the tight ring once again. “Please.” You say, and he hooks his thumb gently into you. 

You feel so full like this, barely even able to comprehend the fact that you’re about to get fucked by your favorite adult content creator. 

Joel starts to rock his hips slowly at first, moaning at how tight you are. He picks up his pace once you’re both comfortable and it feels like he’s punching your fucking gut. 

It’s almost unbearable— but the pleasure outweighs the pain by a mile. He’s rocking his hips so hard that the couch starts to scrape onto the floor, nothing but skin  slapping on skin. You feel a sting on your left asscheek and moan at the contact, realizing Joel had slapped you. 

He does it again, and again, and again, until tears are in your eyes and you can no longer bear the sting. 

“Pussy feels so fuckin’ good baby. Was meant to take this cock, hm?” He says through gritted teeth, and you can’t help but agree with him. 

His hand slides up your back and reaches your hair, pulling it so your head tilts upward. 

“So fuckin’ pretty like this. Love the way you feel around me.” He confesses, taking his thumb out of your tight muscle before wrapping his other arm around your torso once, only to pull you upright this time. 

He’s pistoning into you as you lean back onto his body. His hand wraps gently around your throat as he scatters more kisses onto your jawline and up your earlobe. 

“Can I?” He asks, and you choke out a meek yes. 

His large hand wraps all the way around your throat, squeezing the sides. Joel turns his head down to look at you, all helpless as he fucks you relentlessly. 

Your jaw hangs open and your eyes are squeezed shut, relishing in the all-consuming feeling of Joel. 

Joel, Joel, Joel. 

You open your eyes as you plead his name, feeling another orgasm burning within you. 

He moves his fingers up from your throat to grab at your jaw, forcing your mouth open as he spits into it. 

“Swallow.” He commands, and you don’t question him one bit. 

He likes seeing you like this—submissive and practically breedable—and yet, he barely knew you. He knew he wanted that to change after this, though.

“Joel I’m gonna come.” Your voice is hoarse and desperate, trying so hard to keep the feeling of pleasure at bay. 

It was no use, though. The way he was looking at you made you want to fucking risk it all, and when he finally bent his face down to kiss you, you knew it was a wrap. 

You both moaned into each other’s mouths as your tongues tangled together, tasting each other and exploring one another. 

It wasn’t long before the coil finally snapped for you, and seconds later, him as well. You both panted heavily as you were submerged in the post-coital bliss. 

“You did so good, baby. Hopefully I lived up to your expectations.” 

You huff a laugh at his words as he pulls out of you and  shuffles himself down onto the couch, pulling you on top of him. He kisses the top of your head as he plays with your hair, a strange feeling blooming in his chest as you both enjoy the presence of one another. 

One thing’s for sure and two things for certain: 

You’re everything he’s wanted, and he didn’t even know how to tell you. There was no way he was letting you go now. 

-

tags: @endlessthxxghts @punkshort @ilovepedro @nostalxgic @party-hearses

@joelsgreys @ozarkthedog

[sadnymi]

August

[ Mattheo riddle x reader] [part2]

Summary: all y/n wanted is to love and to be loved to see the beauty of the world and to be happy even if that’s mean she will have to hide away , until that summer the summer she talked to mattheo riddle.

Words: 8.5k

Warnings: fluff, Angst , Angst , and a lot of angst, strong language , light smut, toxic, abused father.

August, finally. Summer, at last. The book snapped shut with a quiet _click_, and I slipped it into my bag. A glance at the darkening sky confirmed my decision. Time to go.

The beach was deserted now, save for the distant sound of laughter from a party I hadn’t been invited to. No hard feelings, no bad blood. It wasn’t that they disliked me—they simply didn’t see me.

I was an outsider to that world, a solitary figure on the periphery. No invitations had been extended, no longing glances cast my way. It was as though I existed in a silent film, a mere extra in the grand spectacle of life.

The sky, a masterpiece of blue, held me captive. In that moment, I was adrift, a solitary vessel on a boundless ocean. There was no turmoil, no drama, just the gentle sway of existence.

As I drove away from the beach, a flash of movement caught my eye. I slowed the car, looking out the window. There, on a bench under the pale glow of a streetlamp, was a figure slumped over. A bottle dangled precariously from one hand, and his face was streaked with what looked like red liquid. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized him—Mattheo Riddle, the infamous troublemaker.

I pulled over and got out of the car, the gravel crunching under my feet as I approached him. He was asleep, his dark hair falling over his eyes, his usually sharp features softened by unconsciousness.

I carefully took the bottle from his hand, the alcohol’s pungent smell mixing with the salt air. He stirred, and in an instant, his hand shot out, catching mine.

He sat up abruptly, blinking rapidly, clearly disoriented. “What the—” he muttered, his voice thick with sleep and alcohol. “Betty? Bethany? Is that you?”

"No," I replied, my tone firm yet gentle. "It's Y/n."

He sat up abruptly, blinking against the night. The world seemed to tilt for him, and I extended a steady hand. His fingers, calloused and strong, closed around mine. A wave of dizziness washed over him, his eyes glazing over.

"Y/n Y/L/n," he mumbled, as if testing the syllables on his tongue. "Y/N Y/L/N... I know who you are."

"You do?" I asked, a bit surprised.

"Oh, I know," he said, attempting to stand. He wobbled, and I reached out to steady him.

"You want me to help you get back home?"

He attempted to stand, wobbling on his feet, and I instinctively reached out to steady him.

"Easy there," I murmured, helping him to his feet.

"Thank you, love,"

"It's Y/N," I corrected.

"But 'love' fits you quite fine," he replied, a flirtatious glint in his eyes.

I rolled my eyes. "Let me drive you home."

"Yeah, that'd be nice."He nodded, still leaning on me for support.

"Are you staying with Enzo at the Berkshire house?" I asked.

"Yeah," he mumbled, his head lolling slightly.

With some effort, I guided him to the car and helped him into the passenger seat. As I started the engine, he looked over at me, his expression softening.

"You’re so kind, love," he mumbled. "Why are you so kind to me?"

"Because you need help," I replied simply. "Just doing the right thing,"

He laughed softly, a drunken, endearing sound. "You’re too good for this world, Y/N." he mumbled, "Always thought you were pretty."

"Thank you, Mattheo," I replied, trying to keep my focus on the road.

"I’ve noticed you before, you know. Always so quiet, so calm. I like that," he continued, his voice softening.

"That's sweet of you to say."

He leaned back in the seat, his eyes closing again. "Yeah, love. Sweet."

I pulled up to the Berkshire house and helped him out of the car. "Let’s get you inside."

As we walked to the door, he leaned heavily on me, his steps unsteady. "You’re my angel, love," he whispered.

"It's Y/N, and you’re drunk" I reminded him gently. "And you have a girlfriend,"

"Oh, not anymore," he slurred, his expression turning somber.

I looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"It’s over. She doesn’t want me anymore," he mumbled, swaying slightly.

We reached the front door, and I knocked, but no one answered. Enzo must still be at the party.

"Do you have a key?" I asked.

"Yeah, somewhere," he replied, patting his pockets aimlessly.

"I need more than ‘somewhere,’ Mattheo. Can you please tell me where your key is?"

After a moment of fumbling, he pulled it out and handed it to me with a smile. I opened the door and helped him inside, guiding him to the couch. He collapsed onto it with a groan.

"No one's here," I said, glancing around.

"Are you trying to get me all alone, Y/N?"

"What? No, I just wanted someone to be here so you won’t do anything stupid," I retorted, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks.

But he was already drifting off, too drunk to do much of anything. I walked to the kitchen to get a water bottle. It felt wrong to walk around someone else's house like this, but then I spotted a bottle of aspirin on the table. Maybe these boys get drunk a lot; why else would it be there?

I returned to the living room, placing the water and aspirin on the table. I noticed Mattheo struggling to get his jacket off, one arm stuck in the sleeve. Gently, I helped him remove it and set it aside.

"Thanks, Betty," he murmured in his sleep, making my heart sink.

I blinked, fighting the urge to correct him, "You're welcome, Riddle," I whispered, knowing he wouldn’t hear it. He thought I was someone else. I was his Betty I doubted he even knew who I really was all that time.

As I get back to the car I noticed the bottle of red wine on the seat and couldn't help but smile.

The next day, the familiar sound of my parents arguing filled the house, so I grabbed my keys and headed to the beach for some peace.

When I got there, I saw him again. He was sitting on the sand, his hair damp, and his shirt clinging to his wet body. He must have just come out of the ocean. I tried to turn away, but it was too late—he had already noticed me.

"Going to ignore me?" he asked, walking towards me.

"No, of course not," I lied.

He smiled, "Liar." Then he looked at me seriously. "Thank you for last night. I'm sorry if I said anything that offended you. I don't remember much, but I appreciate what you did."

I was surprised he remembered at all and I wondered if he recalled calling me Betty too. "It's okay, you didn't. You just had a bad day, I guess."

He nodded. “I can leave if you want.”

“No, it’s okay,” I said, sitting down on the sand and pulling out my book.

“Little Women,” he remarked, eyeing the cover.

I nodded. He asked, “Who's your favorite character?”

Suddenly nervous, I struggled to form a coherent sentence. “Uh, Amy,” I finally managed.

“Oh, wow. Amy?” He raised an eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes.

“What was that for?” he asked, smiling.

“You’re just going to bully her, probably.”

“No, I would never do such a thing.”

I nodded, turning my gaze to the blue water. “It’s just... she’s not—”

“She’s not what?” I interrupted, defensive. “Amy is passionate and driven. She knows what she wants and goes after it. She’s not afraid to dream big.”

Mattheo was looking at me, truly listening. I blinked and looked away.

He grinned, teasing, “You’re quite the defender.”

I felt his eyes on me, making it impossible to focus on my book. I looked up and met his gaze. “You’re staring,” I said.

“I’m staring,” he replied, unashamed.

I laughed and closed the book. “What do you want?”

“I want to listen to you.”

“Listen to me?”

“Yeah, just like when you were defending Amy with your life a minute ago.”

“I don’t have anything interesting to talk about.”

He sat closer, leaning on his arm. “Then tell me something about yourself, something that no one knows.”

I laughed nervously. “No one knows anything about me, Mattheo.”

“Mysterious, are we?”

“More invisible, are we.”

His expression softened. “You are not invisible. Not to me, not anymore.”

I looked away. “Fine. I can’t swim.”

“You what?”

“I can’t swim. Tried too many times but failed.”

He looked shocked. “I can teach you.”

“Oh no, thanks."

“Come on, that’s the least I can do after last night.”

“No, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do that.”

He nodded, sensing there was more to it. “You’re not getting away from it, but we’ll drop it for now. Tell me, what can I do for you?”

“Nothing. You don’t have to.”

“But I want to.”

Blushing, I tried to say something, anything to distract from his gaze. “You can get me ice cream.”

He laughed. “That’s it? Just ice cream?”

I smiled. “Yes.”

“Fine, you get this.” He stood up and offered me his hand. Nervously, I took it, and he helped me up.

As we walked, a comfortable silence settled between us. I broke it, almost without thinking. “Wanna play something?”

I wasn’t sure why I asked, maybe to feel what it’s like to have a conversation, to play with a friend. Wait—a friend? No, we’re not friends.

He interrupted my thoughts. “Yes, of course. What is it?”

“I spy with my little eye...” I said, feeling a bit silly. He laughed, and I knew why. It was childish, very childish. But this was new to me. I hadn’t experienced much of this in my childhood.

“Fine with me. Wanna start?” he asked, grinning.

I nodded. “I spy with my little eye, something... blue.”

He looked around, squinting playfully. “The ocean?”

“Too easy. Your turn,” I said, smiling.

“I spy with my little eye, something... red,” he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

I scanned the surroundings. “That towel over there?”

“Nope,” he replied, smirking.

“Give me a hint?”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. “It’s closer than you think.”

I frowned, looking around us. Then I realized—my swimsuit strap, peeking out from under my shirt. “Oh. My swimsuit?”

“Got it,” he said, his grin widening.

We continued like this, the game bridging the gaps between our words. He was better at it than I expected.

“I spy with my little eye, something... brown,” I said, feeling more relaxed.

“My hair,” he guessed quickly, ruffling it for emphasis.

“Right again.”

“I spy with my little eye, something... beautiful,” he said, looking directly at me.

I blushed. “Mattheo...”

“What? You’re wearing it. That necklace,” he said, pointing to the small pendant I always wore.

“So, what’s your favorite flavor?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation back to safer grounds.

“Mint chocolate chip. Yours?”

“Strawberry.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sweet and classic. Fits you.”

I rolled my eyes playfully.

“Just being honest.”

We arrived at the ice cream booth, still caught up in our game. “Two cones, please,” he ordered, handing me one.

“Thank you,” I said, taking a bite.

“Anytime, love,” he replied, winking.

I felt his eyes on me again, the way they made me feel seen. It was unsettling and exhilarating at the same time.

Then we continued our game.

"I spy with my little eye, something... on your face," he said, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

I frowned, confused. "What? Where?"

He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto mine. "Right here," he said softly, pointing to the corner of my mouth. "You’ve got a bit of ice cream."

I tried to wipe it away, but missed. “Did I get it?”

“Here, let me help.” He reached out, wiping the spot with his finger, brushing my lips. My breath hitched at the contact.

Just then, a cat darted out from the bushes, startling me. Instinctively, I grabbed Mattheo. My ice cream went flying, splattering all over his shirt.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” I started to panic, my apologies tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t see the cat—”

“Trying to get me naked already, Y/N? If you wanted me to take my shirt off, you should have just asked, love.”

But my mind was elsewhere, trapped in a darker place. I kept apologizing, my breathing becoming erratic. Memories of my father’s anger flashed in my mind, and I couldn’t see Mattheo standing there.

“Y/N, it’s okay. It’s just a shirt,” he said, trying to calm me. But I couldn’t stop, the panic rising within me.

“Hey, hey, Y/N, look at me, baby,” he said, more urgently. I didn’t respond until he cupped my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. “It’s just a shirt. It’s okay.”

I nodded, still trembling. He wiped away the tears I hadn’t realized were falling. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, love,” he said, shaking his head.

“You’re not mad?”

“Of course I’m not mad,” he assured me. “If anything, you’ve given me an excuse to show off.” He grinned, his flirtatious tone returning. “I bet you’re wondering how someone can look this good, even with ice cream all over them.”

I laughed softly, feeling the tension ease a bit. “Maybe a little.”

“See? Just a shirt and a bit of ice cream. No big deal,” he said, his hands still gently holding my face. “Now, let’s get you another ice cream.”

For the next weeks, we were inseparable. Mattheo and I met at the beach every day, talking, playing, and even reading a book together. His relentless flirting always left my cheeks as red as blood and made breathing a challenging task.

Today, as I parked the car and got out, I saw him playing football with a little boy.

"Who is that?" I asked, curious.

He looked up at me and smiled. "Found him here. He’s adorable—might just adopt him."

I laughed. "You can’t just adopt a kid you found on the beach, Mattheo."

I knelt down to the boy's level. "Hi."

"Hi," he responded, smiling.

"Where are your parents?" I asked.

"Over there," he said, pointing to a small family who waved at us once they noticed we were looking at them.

I looked up at Mattheo. He smiled. "What? You look adorable when you’re confused. I’d never miss a chance to see that expression on your face."

I sat on the back of my car, watching them. He continued to play with the boy for a little while until his family called him to leave. I waved goodbye to the little boy and then turned my attention to Mattheo.

"I never knew you were that good with kids," I said as he walked over to me, placing his hands on either side of me.

"Yeah?" he asked, and I nodded.

"Let me wonder why," he said, smiling. "Maybe because my father who probably wants to end the world died and left me fatherless?"

My eyes widened. "No, no, Mattheo, I didn’t mean that."

He chuckled. "I’m just teasing you, my love."

I blinked, noticing the subtle difference—"my love," not just "love."

"Go ahead, ask it," he said.

"Ask what?" I replied, feigning ignorance.

"I can see you thinking. You probably want to ask something but are afraid to," he said.

I shook my head, but he insisted. "It’s okay, you can ask me anything, and I will answer it."

I smiled, about to speak, but he cut me off. "With one condition."

"What? What is it?" I asked, curious and a bit apprehensive.

"Come with me," he said, glancing at the ocean. "You don’t have to swim or learn, just a little in. I’ll be there and will help you and answer all your questions too."

I felt a wave of nervousness and fear, but he noticed, touching my cheeks gently. "Hey, hey, look at me, love. Forget about it, okay? If you’re not—"

"No, no, I want to," I cut him off, nodding. "Are you sure?" he whispered, and I smiled, saying, "Never had I ever before."

I got off the car, and despite not wearing a bikini, I shyly took off my shirt, revealing my one-piece swimsuit. He smiled, taking off his shirt as well, and grabbed my hands. His touch was reassuring, and as we walked towards the ocean, I felt a mix of excitement and anxiety.

He led me into the water, just a step ahead of me, watching carefully as I looked down, watching my feet touch the water.

"Up, eyes on me, my love," he said softly. I did as he asked, meeting his gaze. He smiled at me and said, "Now, ask your questions."

I knew what he was doing—distracting me from my fear. I smiled nervously. "Okay, it’s personal and-," I began, but he cut me off.

"It’s over," he said, my eyes widening that he already knew what I was going to ask. "Come on, love, I was waiting for you to ask it. You didn’t think I knew? Yeah, me and Bethany—it’s over since that night."

I nodded, feeling a bit relieved. He took his turn. "Tell me, why are you afraid of it?" he asked gently, his fingers tracing circles on my hands.

"My father—my father, he threw me into the ocean once. I thought I was going to die, but then he pulled me out at the last moment," I said, my voice trembling. He stopped walking, squeezing my hands gently.

"Why would he do that? How could he do that?" he asked, his eyes darkening with concern.

"He’s very religious. He doesn’t tolerate... mistakes. I was ten. It was a birthday party for a daughter of one of my mother’s friends. We the kids were playing—a silly game. Seven minutes in heaven. Nothing happened, we just stayed in the closet. But my father didn’t believe me, or maybe he did and was just angry that I agreed to such a ‘shameless game’ as he called it. My mother bore the brunt of his anger after that," I explained.

He listened intently, his face a mix of anger and empathy. I was too afraid to look at him directly, but then I realized the water was up to my chest. I panicked, and he immediately wrapped his arms around my waist.

"I got you," he said, and I clung to him.

"Did your parents divorce?" he asked softly.

"Oh, worse," I said bitterly. "They stayed together for the kid—me. Can’t you see how happy I am now, thanks to them?" I laughed, but he didn't. Instead, he tightened his hold on me.

"You asked too many questions. You cheated," i said, he smiled tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear while still holding me.

"I don’t follow rules, my love," he said, and I smiled. "But you’re right. Ask away."

"Will you—will you still talk to me when we go back to school?" I asked, finally looking him in the eyes. There was nothing under my feet now; I was deep in the ocean. But it wasn't that which made me nervous—it was his answer.

"Why would you think I wouldn’t?" he asked, smiling and touching my hair, then my cheeks.

"I don’t know. I just thought..." I struggled to express my fear.

"You thought wrong, my love," he said, and despite being in the water, I clung to him even more. "Of course I will," he whispered in my ear. I nodded, resting my head on his shoulder, afraid to look at him, afraid to see a look of uncertainty in his beautiful eyes, or worse, something more—a desire I had long craved but thought was a fantasy, a dream people like me couldn’t have.

"Now, my turn. Why do you always hide?" he asked, and I looked at him, confused.

"Hide?"

"Yes, hide from everyone. You’re one of the smartest witches in our year. You have too—"

"I don’t want that," I interrupted.

"Don’t want what?"

"It’s just—I—" I tried to explain. "I don’t want to be noticed. I thought I did, but I don’t. It’s... ugh, Merlin, this is hard to explain. I just want to be happy."

"Happy?" he asked, his tone gentle.

"Yes, happy. Just happy and loved. I want love. I want to see the beauty in everything, but people always ruin that, don’t they? I want peace and happiness and love—a lot of love. And just because I don’t want to be a fighter or always know what to say, always fighting for things, always proving and proving—I’m so tired of always having to prove that I deserve to live, to be part of this world. I don’t want power or everything. I just want a little something, a little love. And I’m not weak, but I can’t explain that without sounding like a weak person, a scared girl. I’m not. I’m stronger than they all think," I yelled the last part.

"I know," he said gently, his hands in my hair.

"I was just trying to survive," I said, and he nodded.

I looked into his eyes and regretted it. The sun made them even more beautiful, and the thoughts I had would make my father get a priest to cleanse my soul. Sadly, I realized how close we were, his hands on my skin, our faces too close.

I didn’t realize I was looking at his lips until I looked up and saw his smirk.

My heart racing as his smile softened into something more tender, more intimate. The sun glinted off the water, casting a golden light over his face. His hand was warm against my skin, the other still wrapped securely around my waist.

"Don’t let go," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I don’t want to die."

His smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my cheek. "I would never," he murmured, his voice steady and reassuring.

He reached out, his right hand cupping my chin, gently guiding my face until I was forced to meet his gaze. His other arm remained securely around my waist, holding me close. “Don’t look away from me now,” he said, his voice a soft command that sent shivers down my spine.

I wanted to tell him that I couldn’t, that I didn’t want to look away, but the feelings swirling inside me terrified me. I inched even closer to him, our bodies nearly flush against each other. I could feel his breath on my face, warm and intoxicating, and without thinking—or maybe because I didn’t want to think—I leaned in and kissed his cheek.

The moment my lips touched his skin, I felt a jolt of surprise, as if I had crossed a line I didn’t even know existed. He looked just as surprised, his eyes widening slightly.

“Was this a sin?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mix of curiosity and guilt.

He smiled, his lips curving into a playful grin. “I don’t think so.”

I closed my eyes, feeling his breath tickle my lips as he leaned in closer. Without hesitation, I kissed his other cheek, the warmth of his skin searing against my lips.

I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze once more, and then, almost without thinking, I placed another kiss on his jaw. He let out a soft, appreciative hum that sent a thrill through me.

“Definitely not a sin,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire.

I couldn’t help but smile at his words. He tilted his head, brushing his lips over mine, teasing, tasting, but not quite kissing me fully.

And then he kissed me.

His lips met mine with a hunger that took my breath away, his arms tightening around me, pulling me even closer. His kiss was searing, demanding, as if he was pouring all of his unspoken desires, all of his pent-up emotions, into this one moment.

I melted into him, my hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate to keep him close. His fingers tangled in my hair, tugging gently as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a dance that left me dizzy, craving more.

"You taste like strawberries,” he whispered against my lips.

“And you taste like trouble,” I replied, my breath hitching as his mouth moved to my neck, placing slow, deliberate kisses.

“Good trouble?” he asked, his tongue tracing a path up to my ear.

“The best kind,” I breathed, my fingers tangling in his hair, then his lips were on mine again.

His hand moved from my waist to my lower back, pulling me flush against him, the force of his kiss making my head spin. I melted into him, my hands gripping his shoulders as I kissed him back just as fiercely, my body responding to him in a way that felt both foreign and completely natural.

He broke the kiss for a brief moment, his lips hovering just above mine as he whispered, “You feel this too, don’t you?”

His words sent heat pooling low in my belly, and I gasped as he nipped at my bottom lip, his hands sliding down to grip my hips, pulling me flush against him. I could feel the hard length of him pressed against me, a tangible reminder of just how much he wanted this, wanted me.

I nodded, too breathless to speak, my eyes half-closed as I leaned in to kiss him again. He didn’t hesitate, capturing my lips in another heated kiss, his hands roaming up my back, holding me so close that I could feel every beat of his heart.

His lips moved to my neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there, and I gasped, the sound swallowed by the crashing waves. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and filled with a desire that mirrored my own.

“Say my name,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear as he nipped at the lobe. “Say it, love.”

“Mattheo,” I gasped, my voice barely recognizable as my own, filled with a longing I could no longer deny.

He kissed me again, his lips crashing against mine with a fervor that made my knees weak. His hands gripped my hips tighter, pulling me closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past my lips to tangle with mine in a dance of want and need.

I was lost in him, in the sensation of his body pressed against mine, his lips claiming me in a way that felt both dangerous and exhilarating. I knew there would be no going back from this, that whatever we were doing, whatever was happening between us, it was irreversible.

A distant sound broke through the haze of our moment. I froze, my ears straining to identify it. Voices—young, excited, and getting closer. I turned my head, my eyes scanning the shoreline, and spotted a group of boys arriving at the beach, their laughter carried on the wind.

“We should probably get out,” I whispered, my heart still racing from our kiss but now tinged with the awareness of being seen.

He nodded, pressing one last, lingering kiss to my lips before we reluctantly pulled apart. The water felt cooler as we waded back to shore, the spell of our private world slowly dissipating with each step.

Once we were out of the water, I sat on the towel, feeling the rough fabric beneath me as I tried to steady my breath. He reached for another towel and draped it over my shoulders, his touch still warm, comforting.

He stood there for a moment, his eyes lingering on me before he sat down. I looked at him, taking in the way the sunlight caught in his hair, the way his skin glistened with droplets of water. He was beautiful, devilishly beautiful, with the kind of allure that made it hard to look away. My eyes traced the lines of his back, the muscles shifting under his skin, and I found myself wishing I could write my name on it, claim him in some small, secret way.

He turned to sit down beside me, his movement breaking the spell of my thoughts. I smiled at him, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks, still flushed from both the water and what had just transpired between us.

Without thinking, I leaned my head on his shoulder, seeking the comfort of his presence. He didn’t hesitate, his arm wrapping around me as he held my hand in his. His fingers traced gentle circles on the back of my hand, the touch sending soothing waves through my body, calming the lingering adrenaline.

He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead, his lips soft against my skin. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the moment, feeling safe and cherished in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.

It had been a week since that day on the beach, and I had never felt so alive, so completely consumed by happiness. Every thought, every breath, seemed to revolve around him. The world felt brighter, more vibrant, as if everything had been infused with color. I was caught in a whirlwind of emotions, and I didn’t want it to stop.

I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in thoughts of him, when my mother knocked softly on the door. She poked her head in, smiling.

“You’re coming, right?” she asked, her eyes warm with expectation.

I knew what she meant. I was supposed to go with her to visit her best friend, a plan that had been made long before all of this. But the thought of missing a call from Mattheo, of not seeing him today, was unbearable. I felt like I’d lose my mind if I didn’t see him, if I didn’t feel his arms around me, even for just a moment.

I sat up, giving her an apologetic smile. “No, Mom, I’m sorry. I don’t think I can. Maybe I’ll just take a nap,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t press the issue.

She looked at me for a moment, then leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Alright, sweetheart. Get some rest,” she said softly, before leaving the room.

I watched the door close behind her and sighed, sinking back onto my bed. Only half an hour had passed when my phone buzzed, and I scrambled to grab it. His name lit up the screen, and my heart skipped a beat.

“Hey, do you want to go out?” Mattheo’s voice was smooth, teasing, and I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face.

“Of course,” I said, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice.

For the past week, we had spent almost every day together, usually at the beach. It was our place, where the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of us. But today, I felt a need for something different, something more.

“Can I come to your house instead?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “I can’t risk my father seeing your car… and then we can go wherever you want.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line before he answered. “Sure, wait for me at the front door.”

I didn’t question it, didn’t think much of it until I reached his house and texted him that I had arrived. As I waited, I heard voices inside—Enzo’s voice, unmistakable, and loud enough to carry through the walls. I couldn’t make out all of what he was saying, but one sentence rang out clearly: “This is a mistake, brother. This poor girl doesn’t deserve that.”

I frowned, my heart tightening with unease. But before I could process what I’d heard, Mattheo appeared, slipping into the passenger seat of my car. He leaned over, kissing me, his smile bright but somehow not reaching his eyes.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, searching his face.

“Of course, my love,” he said, brushing off my concern.

I hesitated, wanting to believe him, wanting to chase away the shadow that had settled in my chest. “Can we go to the new mall? I heard—”

He cut me off with a smile that felt forced. “I don’t like it. Too crowded. How about the beach?”

I tried to return his smile, but it didn’t come as easily as before. “We always go to the beach,” I said, watching him carefully. His eyes were distant, like his mind was somewhere else entirely.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked, my voice softening.

He blinked, as if pulling himself back to the present. “Oh, nothing,” he said, his smile returning, though it still didn’t reach his eyes.

“The beach sounds good,”I said something hoping that it will make him smile as well.

he nodded, even though I knew something was off. I didn’t push it, not yet. Instead, I drove us to the beach, the familiar route doing little to ease the tension between us.

Once we arrived, the wind was soft against my skin, and the waves lapped at the shore, but the usual magic of the place felt dimmed by whatever was weighing on him. We walked in silence for a bit, the sand cool beneath our feet, until I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I stopped, turning to face him, reaching out to touch his arm.

“Mattheo,” I said, my voice a mix of concern and affection. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

He looked down at me, his eyes searching mine as if trying to decide whether to let me in or keep me at a distance. But before he could answer, I rose onto my toes, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that was meant to chase away the darkness I saw in him.

His arms came around me, pulling me closer, and for a moment, everything else faded away. His kiss was slow, intense, as if he was trying to pour all of his unspoken thoughts into that one gesture. I felt the tension in his body, the way he held onto me like I was his anchor, keeping him from drifting into whatever storm was brewing inside him.

When we finally pulled apart, I rested my forehead against his, my breath coming in soft gasps. “I care about you,” I whispered, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Whatever it is, we can face it together.”

He looked at me, his gaze softer now, though still shadowed by something I couldn’t quite name.

As I looked up, I heard a sound—a bottle hitting the ground. Both Mattheo and I turned to see Inez, a fellow Hogwarts student, standing a few feet away. She seemed startled, her eyes wide with confusion and shock as she stared at us. I wasn't close to her, but I knew she was Betty's best friend. Mattheo's reaction caught my attention; he looked tense, a mix of anger, confusion, and nervousness flashing across his face. They exchanged a look, something unspoken passing between them, before she hurried away without a word.

"Was this Inez?" I asked, breaking the silence. Mattheo nodded, still staring at the spot where she had been standing.

After that, it felt like he was with me physically, but his mind was somewhere else. The rest of the day passed in a haze, and the following day he didn’t call or text. He wasn’t at the beach, our usual spot. Worry gnawed at me, and I sent him a message.

"Hey, are you okay?" I texted, hoping for a quick response. But it went on delivered, a silent mockery of my concern.

The next day came and went, and still, there was nothing. I tried again.

"Is everything alright? Did something happen?" I sent, my anxiety growing with each unanswered message.

Another day passed, and desperation seeped into my words.

"Did I do something wrong?" I typed, my fingers trembling slightly. "Please, just let me know."

By the end of the week, my heart felt heavy with worry and fear. I sat on my bed, tears stinging my eyes as I typed out another message.

"I miss you, Mattheo. I'm afraid... Please talk to me."

As I pressed send, a sob escaped my lips, and I felt the hot tears roll down my cheeks. The silence was deafening, crushing me with its weight. I started to type again, my breath coming in shaky gasps.

"Are you ghosting me?" I wrote, my vision blurring with tears. The thought of being abandoned, of him leaving without a word, tore at my heart.

Then, it happened. I watched in horror as all my messages changed to "Seen." He had read them—every single one. But there was no response, no explanation. Just the cold, stark confirmation that he was ignoring me.

I couldn’t breathe. My chest tightened, and my vision swam. Panic surged through me, and I clutched at my throat, gasping for air. The room spun, and I felt like I was drowning in a sea of despair. My body shook as I tried to steady my breathing, but the panic was overwhelming.

Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the raw, suffocating fear that gripped me. I curled into myself, feeling utterly alone and broken. The world felt like it was collapsing around me, the silence between Mattheo and me a chasm that threatened to swallow me whole.

Something had changed. I could feel it in the air, a shift that made my skin prickle with unease. It wasn't just paranoia; there was a new intensity in the way people looked at me. Their eyes followed me, but not in a nice way. They whispered, heads bent together, glancing at me with something close to disgust. I had no idea why.

I hadn’t left the house since that day, too wrapped up in my own misery to face the world. But today, my father had insisted I go out, needing me to pick up something for my mother. Reluctantly, I agreed, knowing I couldn’t hide forever.

As I walked, a group of girls passed by, one of them, no more than fourteen, muttering just loud enough for me to hear, "A slut." My eyes widened in shock, and I turned to confront her, but she was already walking away. Why would she call me that?

Stunned, I got into my car, my hands shaking slightly. I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, judged. Instead of heading home, I found myself driving towards the beach, seeking the familiar comfort of the waves and sand.

When I arrived, I parked the car and stepped out, the salty air filling my lungs. I knew he wouldn’t be here, but still, I felt a pull towards our place. As I walked, I noticed groups of people scattered along the shore. And then, it started again—the whispers, the sideways glances, the expressions of disdain.

“What are you doing here, Y/N? Searching for someone else's man to steal?” Martha Grey, one of my classmates, called out, sarcasm dripping from her voice. She clung to her boyfriend’s arm protectively, her eyes narrowed at me.

“What?” I asked, bewildered. The accusation hit me like a slap, leaving me reeling.

“Would you fuck single boys, Y/N, or just the taken ones?” a boy sneered, stepping so close that I almost stumbled back.

“She’s shameless,” another girl muttered, loud enough for me to hear.

“Homewrecker,” someone else hissed.

“A whore with no shame.”

“Slut.”

“Ugly bitch.”

“You really have the nerve to show your face after what you did?”

“Cheap.”

“Who does she think she is? I mean, look at her and look at Betty. Did Mattheo lose his mind?”

“Trash.”

“Did you think you could just get away with it?”

“Desperate for attention, aren’t you?”

“I guess she’ll do anything for a bit of male attention.”

“Pathetic.”

“She’s just a desperate little thing.”

“Doesn’t she have any self-respect?”

“She’ll never be as good as Betty.”

“I heard she practically threw herself at him.”

“Mattheo probably just felt sorry for her.”

“She’s disgusting.”

I stood there, frozen, as the insults kept coming, each one slicing through me like a blade. My ears rang with their harsh words, my vision blurring with unshed tears. I wanted to scream, to run, to hide. But my legs felt like they were glued to the ground, and all I could do was stand there and take it.

Why were they saying these things? What had I done to deserve this? The pain in my chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. I felt like I was being suffocated, drowning in their hatred and contempt. All I wanted was to disappear, to escape the nightmare that my life had suddenly become.

"Can't believe she had the nerve to come here."

"She probably thinks she's some sort of seductress."

"More like a desperate wannabe."

"Does she really think she stands a chance against Betty?"

"Mattheo's way out of her league, it's embarrassing."

"Honestly, it's pathetic."

"She should just disappear, no one wants her around."

My heart sank with each word, each cruel remark cutting deeper than the last. The weight of their scorn was suffocating, and I felt tears pricking at my eyes. I had no idea what they were talking about or why they were so angry with me. The confusion and hurt were overwhelming, and I could feel a panic attack rising in my chest, the world spinning around me.

Someone's voice broke through the barrage of insults. “I’m glad Betty forgave him and didn’t let this ugly slut destroy what they have.”

With that, I walked away, the words still echoing in my ears. Their taunts didn't stop even as I put my hands over my ears, trying to block them out. They always said I was too sensitive, too weak. I was used to those words, but this wasn't something I felt like I could handle. Their attention, their eyes on me, their words—those words.

I walked faster to my car, closing the doors and windows before bursting into tears. How I managed to drive, almost crashing several times, I didn’t know. My body felt cold, shaking, and numb as I finally reached his house. The way to the door felt like forever.

With a shaking hand, I knocked weakly, hoping someone would hear it. The door opened, and even through my tears, I could see it was Enzo.

“Y/N, oh Merlin,” he said, trying to comfort me, but I flinched.

“It’s okay,” he said gently, stepping aside to let me in.

I walked in and saw Mattheo sitting on the couch. His eyes widened as he stood up quickly.

“You said you broke up,” I said, my voice trembling. No, he said it was over, nothing about a breakup, I corrected myself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“We were on a break,” he said, his expression a mix of guilt and confusion.

“You said you broke up with her,” I repeated, more to myself than him.

“We were on a break,” he said again.

“That’s not the same thing,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Not the same thing,” I repeated.

“You lied to me, you ghosted me, and you... you went and—and—” I didn't even know how to finish the sentence.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, his voice softer.

I felt like passing out, but I blinked the tears away and asked, “You didn’t?”

“No, Y/N, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” he said. Was it me? Did I really throw myself at him? No, no, no, I didn’t— You kissed him first, my mind said. But on the cheek, I argued back. Keep telling yourself that, it sneered. No, he did.

I was losing my mind.

“Chase two girls, lose the one, right?” I said, tears falling heavily. “And it wasn’t even me. I’m not the one It wasn’t even my story.”

“Y/N,” he tried, but I cut him off.

“Please don’t say my name. Please don’t try to explain anything,” I said, feeling like I was about to collapse if not for Enzo’s hands supporting me.

“You did that. I had no idea it was you, but no one is pointing their fingers at you. No one is calling you the things they are calling me. No one is saying it was your fault or calling you an ugly bitch. No one is calling you a homewrecker, so don’t—don’t explain anything,” I said, and they were looking at me. I wanted to scream at him, they were looking at me now because of you.

Mattheo stepped closer, but Enzo shook his head at him.

“Everything is back to its place now. August is already over,” I said. Yes, everything is back to its place except for me. Nothing is the same, nothing will ever be the same.

I pulled away from Enzo and walked to the door, stepping out of the house.

“Y/N, wait,” Enzo called, but I ignored him and walked to my car.

“Let me drive you home, please. You can’t go like that,” he said, and I shook my head.

“Y/N, please,” he pleaded, but I kept shaking my head.

I got into my car, closing the doors. He looked at me with sympathy, and I felt bad for shutting him out like that. But I should feel bad for myself, for what his brother did to me, for what he knew was happening but didn’t tell me.

I saw him get into his car. My hands were shaking, my vision blurred as I started to drive. Enzo’s car followed behind, making sure I made it home.

I got out of the car once I reached my house, not even looking back, not having the energy.

I stepped into my house, the quiet enveloping me like a shroud. I walked to my room, but stopped short when I saw my parents standing inside. They turned to look at me, and my father’s eyes were filled with a cold anger.

"What is this?" he demanded, holding the red wine bottle in his hand.

The sight of it brought more tears to my eyes. If that night hadn’t happened, if I hadn’t found Mattheo, if I hadn’t helped him...

"What is it?" my father repeated, his voice rising. "Shame, shame on you."

"Give it back to me," I said, trying to take the bottle from his hands. My mother, knowing better, tried to step between us, but he pushed her away.

"I said, give it back!" I yelled, and then I felt it—pain, sharp and hot, as his hand struck my cheek. He hit me again.

I screamed and lunged at him, trying to wrest the bottle from his grip. He struggled, but didn’t fall.

"Give it back, give it back, give it back to me!" I cried, hitting his chest, my nails scratching at his hands, anything I could reach. He grabbed my hair, and something inside me snapped.

Enough—enough. I’ve had enough.

I started hitting him in the chest, my nails digging into his skin. He was shocked, and I didn’t stop.

"Get out! Get out! We hate you! We don’t want you! Get out!" I screamed.

My nails raked his hands again, trying to get the bottle.

"Don’t you dare put your hands on me or Mother again! I will use my wand. I will cast a spell on you to torture you. I don’t care! I don’t care about the consequences! Get out!" I screamed, and finally, he released his grip. The bottle fell to the ground, shattering into pieces.

He stumbled out of the room, then out of the house. I fell to my knees, touching the broken shards, crying hard.

My mother knelt down, trying to pull me away. "No, no," I said.

"It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll clean it up," she said, but I panicked.

"You can’t. You can’t, please, no," I said, my fingers bleeding as I touched the pieces.

"It wasn’t mine," I said, though I knew I wasn’t just talking about the bottle.

"It wasn’t mine, Mother. It wasn’t mine," I repeated, crying even harder. "It wasn’t mine to lose. It wasn’t mine to lose."

She finally managed to pull my bleeding hands away and hugged me tightly. I cried into her arms, sobbing for Mattheo, for myself, for everything that had gone wrong.

The rest of the summer passed in a blur of anguish and solitude. I found myself on the Hogwarts Express, not knowing how I was going to face the coming year. It didn't stop—the whispers, the sidelong glances, the barely concealed disdain. They had finally notified me that there was no coming back from this. Their eyes found me, and they whispered, not caring whether their words were good or bad. I was sure they were bad.

The journey to Hogwarts felt faster than ever, though I knew it wasn't. It was just that I dreaded every moment, and that dread made time fly. When the train finally stopped, I got out, trying to stay out of sight as much as possible.

As we reached the castle, I saw her—Betty. She stood there, as pretty as always. Unlike the others, her eyes held sympathy, and I hated that. I wanted Betty to give me a reason to hate her, but she couldn't. She was like an angel on earth, everything I wasn’t and could never be.

I walked inside, ignoring everything around me. I didn’t care which house the first years were going to be sorted into, even though I had always loved that part. Not this time. This time, I just wanted to hide.

Then I saw him—Mattheo. Our eyes met for a brief second before he looked away, walking past me as if I didn’t exist. Maybe I didn’t anymore, at least not for him. I didn’t have to look back to see where he was going; I already knew. So, I just walked to my dorm, feeling more invisible than ever.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[magicalbunbun]

Got bored from riding in train.

Want to post about stanford x y/n relationship I kinda base off is simon x betty, I just want them happy :)

[zablife]

Missing You

Benny Cross x gf reader

Summary: After a wreck puts you in the hospital, Benny takes off. Will he return or leave you with more than just a broken leg?

Warnings: hospital setting, injury, brief mention of motorcycle accident, fear of abandonment, angst with fluffy ending

A/N: My first fic for The Bikeriders, pls be kind! Comments are love so leave me some 💕 No spoilers here!

Divider credit @firefly-graphics

Benny Cross Masterlist

You turned in the narrow hospital bed, head throbbing from the pain and the bright overhead light in your eyes. "Benny," you mumbled, head fuzzy and mouth feeling as though it were stuffed with cotton.

"Isn't there anyone else we could call?" a tired voice asked from far away. "A relative? Parents?"

There was a shuffle and whispering that sounded like a passing cloud over your head. "No one...she doesn't speak to...don't make it worse, please. He'll be back."

You tried to sit up to see what was happening, but you felt a wave a nausea which stopped you suddenly. Screwing your eyes shut to will it away, the gentle rocking only continued, making you whimper.

"Shhh, lie back, honey," a warm voice instructed, pressing you down into the soft pillows. You felt the warmth of a hand encasing yours as reassuring words poured over you like honey. "They put you under to fix that busted leg, but you're gonna be fine now. Just need a little rest, that's all."

You blinked slowly and opened your eyes once more, fixing your gaze on Johnny's wife, Betty. She gave you a small smile and you felt yourself relax at the sight of her kind eyes. Much like Johnny had for Benny, she had become a role model for you, teaching you how to make a life with the Vandals. Now she was more of a mother to you than your flesh and blood.

"Wh-where's Benny?" you asked, a bit more coherently than you'd managed before.

Betty busied herself pouring some water into a cup for you and your heart began to race, wondering if she was stalling. The memories were coming back to you in full force now, Benny carrying you into the hospital after the crash, yelling at the nurses and doctors. Had he abandoned you then because of the trouble or later when he learned of the care you'd require? You felt hot tears welling in your lash line as you realized this might be the end.

As she turned back to you with the cup, Betty's face fell. Sighing gently, she confirmed your worst fears. "He's not coming back tonight, Y/n."

You couldn't stop the sobs that wracked your body, shoulders shaking and chest heaving with the weight of her words. She allowed you a moment of despair, a hand stroking down your back in soothing circles. When that didn't seem to comfort you, she asked, "Don't you remember the nurses asking Benny to leave?"

Stifling a cry, you sniffed, "No, what are you talking about?"

"I thought you knew."

"Benny stayed?"

"Sure he did, paced all night. Got himself so worked up, he punched a hole in the wall over there! They told him he had to show himself the door or the cops would," Betty explained, the rush of words leaving her mouth so quickly you barely comprehended it all.

You inhaled a deep breath, feeling lightheaded from the relief. "He still wants me?" you mumbled to yourself. There had always been a deep fear coursing through you that someday Benny would take off and never come back. You'd been warned many times he was a man who liked his freedom.

"He still what?" Betty asked, looking at you in confusion. "Sweetie it's none of my business, but I think you should try to sleep now."

Nodding in agreement, you sunk beneath the hospital blankets, exhaustion quickly overtaking your tired mind.

When your eyes reopened, sunlight was pouring through the blinds. A lazy smile spread across your face as you realized your head was no longer pounding with the incessant pain from yesterday. Though your leg now ached in its place and an irritating itch inside your cast was nagging you, somehow you had a good feeling about the day ahead. Stretching your arms above your head, you startled at the sound of a familiar, deep voice.

"Hi baby."

Your heart caught in your chest, too afraid to look if it was actually him.

"Ain't you gonna say hello?" Benny asked, his handsome face hovering over you like a blue eyed angel.

"Oh, Benny," you whimpered, eyes filling with tears.

"Hey, hey...don't cry," he urged, sweeping your hair away for a cautious kiss. You strained to meet the soft press of his full lips against yours, leaning into the gentle touch of his fingertips lacing through your hair. He kept his weight from you, careful not to worsen the bruising he knew you'd sustained to your ribs.

As his beard brushed your cheek, the gravel in his voice rumbled into your chest along with the words you'd longed to hear, "I missed my girl."

"I missed you. What the hell happened?"

Benny chuckled, his teeth shining in that mischievous grin he wore when he knew he'd been caught. His gaze turned toward the crumbling plaster he'd left in the wake of his anger, straightening his denim jacket as he confessed, "Mighta made some trouble."

"I heard," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. "Betty told me, but she didn't say why," you prodded with a raised eyebrow.

Benny pulled up a chair, taking your hand between his large calloused palms. "Listen, I want you to know somethin."

You furrowed your brow uncertain where he was headed.

He rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand as he spoke, his speech slow and tender as you'd never heard him before. A man of few words you weren't prepared for what came next. "I know you don't have kin...kin that claim you anyway." You stared down at his rings, watching them glimmer in the light as he chewed his lip in concentration, choosing his next words carefully. "We been riding together a couple of years now and you gotta know by now that I'll never leave you behind."

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you realized how wrong you'd been, misjudging your boyfriend in a moment of fear. The reputation Benny had as a loner who only looked out for himself simply wasn't true. The love you felt for each other was real, he was telling you so right now. The thought stirred butterflies in your stomach the likes of which you hadn't felt since you met.

Reaching for his face, you cupped his blonde scruff as you proclaimed, "I want to be with you too."

His eyes fell to the floor, thick lashes downcast as he was overcome by a sudden rush of shyness. Perhaps he'd already said too much, revealed a part of himself he kept hidden for fear of exposing weakness. However, you were reveling in it, especially when he raised his head to add another word of praise just for you.

"I was proud of you when we went down. Took it like a champ, you know?"

It was your turn to look away, blush creeping up your neck as you shook your head in vehement denial.

"No, I mean it. The first thing you asked when they got you in here was when you was gonna ride again!" he chuckled at the memory.

"What?" you asked incredulously.

"Yeah, the nurses all thought you were crazy. Said so too," he recalled, bitterness rolling off his tongue. He sighed heavily as he admitted, "That's why I punched the wall."

Staring up at the ceiling, you finally connected all the pieces and let out a little huff. It was soon followed by a snort, then a rolling wave of laughter as you were unable to contain your amusement at your boyfriend's classic impulsiveness. All the hurt and pain melted away as you realized it had all been a wayward attempt to defend you.

"M glad you think it's funny I almost got arrested," he protested.

"And I got a broken leg, Benny!" you countered sternly.

"You win," he conceded with a grin.

Looking down at the cast you turned sullen. "Can't ride with you now."

"Says who?" he asked, drawing close to you. His bright eyes danced with spirited challenge, daring you to defy him.

"I just thought..." you stumbled, feeling all willpower leave your body. When Benny asked something of you, the only answer was yes.

"You go where I go. We make trouble together, remember?" he said, sliding an arm over your waist and pulling you into him for another slow, sensual kiss.

"Sure do, don't we?" you agreed, moving in unison with him. Clutching onto his jacket you asked, "We going home now? I'm done missing you."

[landoslvr]

MRS CLARKEY | g. clarke

summary: a scroll through your internet presence as 'mrs clarkey'. [social media AU.]

pairing: fem!reader x george clarke

faceclaim: steph hui

notes: first piece for mrs george out of the wag universe. steph is gonna be the main fc I use for mrs clarkey, hopefully you like it! this is the longest one I've done so far.. definitely want to do a fic for their first meeting and for the useless hotline podcast- maybe even the ski trip!

liked by user, user and 37,923 others

yourinstagram happy halloween 💋💋

view all 281 comments

user you're literally so hot y/n

user I want to be you so bad

user how can I look like that

user jeez u flexible or something baby?

user the dress? the hair? the makeup??? unreal

yourinstagram thank you!! I did it myself xxx

user shes godly

user have fun tonight!!

user she's the only girl I know to have an impromptu photoshoot and then go out drinking

yourinstagram gotta take the outfit for a spin!!!

liked by chrismd10, arthurtv and 58,283 others

georgeclarkeey you should've seen the other guy!

view all 198 comments

user george wth

user its the vomit on the cheerleading outfit for me

chrismd10 looking good mate

wroetoshaw nice eyebrow....... eyebrow singular

georgeclarkeey yes I got that thank you

user AS IF Y/N FOUND HIM ON HER NIGHT OUT

user I KNOW!! I came from her tweets after everyone tagging this guy

chrismd10 you getting referred to as 'this guy' on your own post is so funny to me

georgeclarkeey well, you're huge aren't you?

imallexx loving the new look mate

user waiting for y/n to join the comments 🫣

user me too 😶😶

yourinstagram its great to know what you look like with both of your eyebrows george! a pleasure to have met you, despite the circumstances...

georgeclarkeey my left eyebrow was too intimidated by seeing betty boop in the flesh it ran away!

user my heart 😭

liked by georgeclarkeey, max_balegde and 37,192 others

yourinstagram went on the useless hotline podcast this week to talk about me saving the george clarke! thank you very much for having me boys 🤍

view all 302 comments

user she's just so pretty

user as if model queen y/n saved youtuber george clarke 😭 not over that at all

georgeclarkeey always a pleasure, you're welcome back anytime you feel like scraping me off of the pavement

yourinstagram anytime you need me, I'll be there to call the ambulance

user LOVE that coat

georgeclarkeey also feeling something.. or someone.. is missing from this post?

yourinstagram idk what you want from me here clarke

max_balegde ahhhhhh!!!!!! such a pleasure to meet the woman that singlehandedly saved my co-host from death <3 thanks so much for coming on, martini besties for life now

yourinstagram call me anytime you need multiple olives!!!

max_balegde three olives, extra dry!!

user stop I hope they all stay friends 😭

liked by georgeclarkeey, chrismd10 and 39,219 others

yourinstagram casual 'saved your life/face' dinner post

view all 331 comments

user nahhhhhhhhh because this is a date

user y/n looks so good 😭😭

user lets not ignore George Clarke wearing something other than a t-shirt

chrismd10 impressed you managed to get him in slacks!

georgeclarkeey your mum brought them for me

user THAT DRESS

user I just wanna be you y/n

user George has major cake its not funny

max_balegde literally should be criminal

georgeclarkeey you saved my life I am eternally grateful

yourinstagram 👽👽👽

liked by georgeclarkeey, chrismd10 and 40,938 others

yourinstagram visiting the mountain tops with some new friends x

view all 370 comments

user bitch we know that's george clarkey, fess up

max_balegde the love of my life really tbh, you look sooooo good

yourinstagram max I'll cry

user drop the link for the jackets!!

user that is george clarke's watch missy

user so you just so happen to be on a ski trip at the same time at george and his friends?????????? coincidence? I think NOT

user I know george is using ever fibre of his being not to comment on this right now

liked by yourinstagrm, miniminter and 59,902 others

georgeclarkeey there's 'snow' way it's this cold in the mountains

view all 286 comments

user Y/N TAKE OF THE SKI MASK COWARD

user we literally know it's her

chrismd10 handsome fellas

user literally just tell us you're dating guys

wroetoshaw high altitude my friend

user love these pics of the boys together

arthurtv distinguished skiers and snowboarders

charliehutchens really good ones too

user do you think y/n had to throw her phone out of her hotel room to stop herself from commenting?

user yes, yes I do

liked by georgeclarkeey, wroetoshaw and 37,981 others

yourinstagram out and about ✈️🗺️

view all 320 comments

user should we tell y/n that she posted a picture of George in the 4th slide and then proceeded to cut his head out of the 6th one????

user let her live in peace I guess

user wow no one is immune to stupidity these days 😭

user can't believe they took her so young

georgeclarkeey you're not getting that poster back

yourinstagram if you dont return my harry styles poster I will sue

georgeclarkeey I live with a lawyer, so good luck with that darling

user DARLING???? LITERALLY JUST PUNCH ME IN THE FACE NEXT TIME GEORGE

liked by yourinstagram, stephentries and 61,192 others

georgeclarkeey chris informed us that you all know we're dating so no more discreet photo dumps I guess?

view all 401 comments

user WAR IS OVERRRRRR

user quick everyone act like we didn't see this shit coming

user the way he tried to do her dirty in the last 3 pics but he literally can't

user she's just so pretty

user I wanna be her

max_balegde mrs clarkey!!!!!!

yourinstagram !!!!!

chrismd10 you're so welcome mate

user she's so gorgeous

user kills me

user george x y/n girlies won today

yourinstagram 🤍🤍🤍 love you big stupid idiot 🤍🤍🤍 once I posted the invisalign it was over..

georgeclarkeey guys gotta eat

liked by georgeclarkeey, arthurfhill and 43,938 others

yourinstagram casual 'I can finally post my boyfriend' post!!!!

view all 493 comments

user guys I love today

user this makes me so happy

chrismd10 the power of drunken lime bike rides!

yourinstagram thank you lime bikes

user the alien picture kills me

max_balegde can't wait to have you back on the pod as mrs clarkey

yourinstagram a promotion, for me???

user george is so cute, I envy y/n!

arthurtv it's about time tbh

user I've been waiting for this one

georgeclarkeey was worth losing half of an eyebrow I guess

yourinstagram maybe the eyebrows were the friends we made along the way?

[sacharinee]

pairing: bf!peter x fem!reader

synopsis: you tend to peter’s needs with your friends down the hall**

w/c: 1k+

warnings: smut! hj + grinding, cursing, sneaky sex?? minors dni X

a/n: this is my first smut so pls bare w me. like two office references. this wasnt meant to be that smutty but here we are. i hope u like it - feedback always appreciated!

peter is really testing your patience.

he’s been restless the entire evening, shifting and fidgeting on the couch with you. he’s tried laying his head on your lap, tried leaning against the arm of the sofa with his heavy legs on top of you, then decided against everything and sat up straight beside you. 

the only thing keeping peter from his ultimate desires was the splatter film rolling on harry’s massive flat screen tv that entertained you and your friends. 

harry and mj are cuddled on the loveseat together, fully engrossed in the movie as ned and betty make comfortable on the makeshift bed scattered on the floor in front of you.

it was peter’s idea to have a movie night with his girlfriend and closest friends, but it certainly wasn’t his idea to have the most unbearable boner, right now, at the worst time possible. 

“this movie is so gross, who chose this bag of ass?” ned quips. 

“i think it was mj, babe” betty whispers.

“yup, it was me.” 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, this movie is amazing,” harry shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth as yet another character screams and dies an excruciating death on the screen.

ned rolls his eyes at him, “you two deserve each other.”

“hey, you know what? if you don’t like it, there’s the door,” the brunette responds, ��i don’t know what’s the cause of all this attitude.” 

“it’s be-cause i hate you right now” ned fires back.

“oh, so our entire friendship is a lie, i see how it is.”

“you guys wanna hear another lie?” you chirp, both turning to your attention, “i think you’re both great. seriously. you guys are my best friends and not annoying at all.” 

harry crosses his arms and shakes his head in disbelief, “wow.”

“now shut up and watch the movie.”

your attempts are rendered futile, ned and harry continue to argue while mj watches the gory film with contentment and betty covers her eyes.

your attention turns to peter when he’s tugging on your sleeve. “yes, baby?” you peer down at him with sweet eyes, your pretty face makes his crotch ache. 

he can’t help but look away, “i need help.” he answers your confusion  by bringing your hand down to feel his hard length through his sweatpants.

“are you kidding me, peter?” you whisper. his forehead drops to your shoulder defeated, “i can’t help it, you’re hot when you’re mean, and it really hurts”

peter’s begging makes you feel for him, and you consider your options, “please?”

he’s giving you desperate eyes, and you decide you can’t focus on the movie with your friend’s bickering anyways, so you stand abruptly.

“i’m gonna use the bathroom.”

peter watched you make your way out of the living room, following suit, “m-me too.”

nobody hears or pays attention to the both of you, unaware of the risky events that are to take place down the hall. 

your boyfriend catches you slipping into the nearest bedroom, which he realizes is harry’s. he goes to protest on entering but is dismissed when your soft lips passionately capture his by surprise. peter stumbles to kick the door shut as you bring him closer by his shirt, walking him backward till his leg meets the bed. you’re on top of him, lips sliding over each other as you lay him down.

he feels your hot heat press against his crotch and over his throbbing cock. 

“y/n/n,” peter whines, “holy shit.” his head tips, and his eyes roll back when he feels you grind on his thick length. he grabs your hips, helping you move fervently against him. 

your lips attach to his neck and suck, pleased with your effect on him. peter is so easy to please. you’re glad you wore a skirt tonight, your arousal floods his senses and it’s all he can think about. he’s high on you, and only ever wants to be intoxicated by you. 

“s’it feel good, baby?” peter’s heavy breathing and rushed nod gives you your answer when he fails to give you a more coherent response.

you decide to tease, gently grabbing his hands and bringing them beside him. you push your weight further onto his hard on but move languidly; you enjoy torturing peter.

“god, baby, please.” he’s desperate for more. “what’s that, petey?” 

“i need,” his eyes are screwed tight, he loses his train of thought when you particularly grind on him roughly.

“use your words, pete. you can do it,” you encourage. 

“i- i need more, need to cum.” his raspy whine is what gets you. 

you lift yourself further down a bit, eyes fixated on peter as his eyes follow your hands. you slowly undress his bottoms to reveal his pulsating cock, it’s flushed a bright red, almost painful-like.

you don’t do much right away. you glaze your fingers over his member, tracing the prominent veins that run up and down the shaft.

“y/n,” he begs, “do something.”

your fingers slide to the red tip, circling it. peter shudders against your cool touch. his eyes make contact with yours and he leans up to give you a long tender kiss. your hand wraps around his cock, jerking him off.

peter breaks from your sweet lips, “oh fuck.” 

you don’t pull back from him. his face, centimeters from yours, looks so pretty, clearly entranced by your magic. you’re breathing into each other’s mouth, and his needy hands pull at your bare thighs. he’s desperate to cum after an evening full of uncomfortable fidgeting and hiding his hard-on from everyone. 

he’s lucky to have you, he doesn’t know what he did to deserve an angel sent from heaven, giving him a handjob, in someone else’s bedroom, while his friends are sitting down the hall, unbeknownst to your secret rendezvous. 

he’s panting against you, watching your face while you’re watching his cock, twitching under your hand, ready to spill. it’s almost like he’s asking for your approval. “baby? baby, im- im gonna-”

“yo, parker! y/n! did you get lost on your way to the bath-”

unfortunately, you and peter aren’t quick enough to conceal the mess you’ve made on his very bed when he swings the door open.

“are you fucking shitting me?!” and harry’s running down the hall gagging and clawing at his face.

“oops.” 

“ugh he’s so dramatic. you know how many times i’ve walked in on him-”

“god, my fucking eyes!”

“he’ll be fine.”

“you’re lying again!”

[eddiessluttywaist]

the boy is mine (eddiessluttywaist's edition)

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: romantic night at the trailer, based off of this prompt!

pairing: bf!eddie x gf!reader

word count: 1, 944 words

content/warnings: MDNI, fluff, kissing, lots of touchy feels, a lil smutty?

a/n: creds to whoever owns and posted those ^ photos! they’re not mine, i just made the collage! also would like to credit @carolmunson for this prompt and @mrsjellymunson for tagging me! I haven’t written for eddie in so long, and this was a great way to get back into it <3 thank you! hope you enjoy my contribution <3

You basked in the scent of Eddie’s bedding, how he was ingrained into each and every fiber. Every motion, every shift of the sheets, you could smell him. He had foolishly left you to your own devices in his bedroom (which was surprising since the last time he did that, you almost dared touch his Sweetheart) so you indulged.

You curled up in the sprawling mess of blankets and sheets then grabbed the small throw pillow you had embroidered for him and buried your face in it. It was a delicate, pretty, little thing that stood out in his room even with its DnD theme, but he loved it. He loved that you made it, that you put so much effort into it just for him, so he slept with it every night. Unfamiliar with the concept of purely decorative pillows, he didn’t realize most people tucked such things off to the side before getting into bed each night. So, it smelled like cigarettes, convenience store aftershave, and his shampoo. The scent filled you with dizzying affection, only pulling it away from your face to then hug it to your chest as he walked back into his room.

“I ran out of, like, nice cups. This okay?” he asked as he blew into one of the mugs and then used the bottom of his shirt to wipe it down. He was planning on cleaning those cartoon-themed cups properly for some absurdly fancy hot chocolate you had brought back from your family vacation. He was even planning on making another case for not wasting it on him, but, of course, his attention strayed easily when you were in his bed.

When his gaze finally fell on you, a lazy smile quirked up one side of his mouth. The handles of the mugs hung off the curl of his fingers which rested against his hips now as he took in the sight of you. He tilted his head to put it at the same angle as yours, his favorite pillow in your arms. You were an unbelievably endearing sight. The love that filled him was fluttery and overwhelming.

“And who said you could hold my favorite pillow?” He teased, sauntering over to the bed.

“I made it,” you scoffed with a smile.

He hums lazily in response, that crooked grin still hanging around as he shoved at the clutter on his bedside table. He picked up a small notebook, brow furrowed as he observed it only to haphazardly toss it towards his dresser to make more room. It was that or your tub of Betty Crocker, and he knew better.

You stared at his forearms, drinking in the movement of the musculature underneath. The warmth of his bedside lamp made it even better to watch the lines and curves of his tattoos beneath its comforting, golden light. How could something so simple be so beautiful? Your focus then trailed to the perfect structure of his hands as the mugs slid down his fingers. The ceramic cups clinked against the surface of the old table.

“I think as the creator, I have some right to hold it too,” you continued to make your case while he crawled into bed with you, giving you that subtle mischievous look he always got when he was toying with you.

His strong arms wrapped around you to secure you closer to him.

“I worked very hard on it, y’know.”

Eddie let out an “Is that right?” kind of sound, the texture of his jeans scratching against the bedding. He pulled you into him with such a desperate need to squish you as close as possible as if he thought you might be leaving soon. Those brown curls tickled your jaw while he nuzzled the side of your neck, audibly breathing you in.

“And it wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to embroider all that Dungeons and—”

He finally pulled back to cut you off, smushing his face against yours in a way that made you giggle. Eddie’s kisses were always lazy and sloppy this late at night, but you loved them that way. His lips were warm albeit a bit rough from all the anxious biting that he abused them with. A pleased hum left him and vibrated deep in his throat, his large hands encasing the sides of your face and his fingers tangling in your hair. His rings would probably tug a strand or two when he pulled them away, but you couldn’t be bothered to care.

The way your body relaxed reassured him, and he slid his arms down to pull you in again so your stomach could be flat against his own. Then, he let out a small chuckle when he had to separate from you to pluck the throw pillow out from between you. Eddie placed it elsewhere with emphasized tenderness while you stared at those ruddy lips that you missed already.

“Pillow was in the way,” he murmured in a low tone, kissing you back as you pulled him in for a few more pecks.

“And here I was thinking you were starting to love it more than me.”

“Aw, now don’t be like that. You know that’s not true,” Eddie drawled, grinning over that unconvincing little pout you gave him.

He sat back on his legs to move the bedding out of his way, then pulled you forward by your thighs which he readily settled in between. There was nothing he wanted more than to be thoroughly pressed against you. It wasn’t even about sex, at least not always. He just loved the feeling of you being so close to him. The softness of your stomach against his taut abdomen. The plushness of your chest pressed against the flat planes of his own. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love the way your bodies fit together too, but he’d melt into you if he could.

Eddie was the type to lean into you while you were walking together, ending up so close that his wallet chain would keep bumping against you. He always sought out your hand to hold or your shoulders for him to drape his arm across (which of course always ended up with him folding you into him so your face would press against a Hellfire symbol or band name, and he could settle his chin on the top of your head). 

“I don’t think I believe you.”

You crossed your arms, failing to keep up with your façade, especially with that smile and those dimples.

“Well then, my dramatic lil lady,” He spoke with that same theatrical cadence that he used during campaigns, his brow furrowed with determination. You groaned over the incoming mawkishness, rolling your gaze up to the ceiling and smiling to the point that the apples of your cheeks ached.

“I suppose I must convince you.”

His hand settled on the side of your neck, thumb brushing against the center of your throat as he dipped down for another kiss.

“You’re so corny,” you laughed against his lips. 

“And you… taste like vanilla,” he sighed, laughing with you after.

“Mm, well, that is the work of Ms. Betty Crocker,” you smiled up at him, gently tapping his nose. “Speaking of…”

Eddie groaned, mentally cursing himself for even bringing it up as you squirmed out from underneath him to grab the container from behind the abandoned mugs. He watched you intently while you sucked a scoop of frosting off your finger. When you met his gaze, he gave you a cheeky grin that he failed to conceal by biting his lip and then wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“You’re a child,” you snorted, reaching out to tap some frosting onto the tip of his nose.

“And you’re devastating,” he countered in a voice so sickeningly saccharine with love that you wiped the frosting right back off. He caught your hand and sucked the sugar from the pad of your thumb before you could fully pull back.

“Who knew the local bad boy could be such a softie,” you teased softly, scooping some more frosting to feed it to him. Eddie playfully bit down just enough to make you laugh.

“I believe you mean ‘the local freak.’”

“Mm, tomato, tomahto,” you shrugged, lapping up some more frosting off your finger. His rich umber eyes seemed to glitter in the dull lighting, his pupils dilating. You looked up at him through your lashes when you felt his stare.

“We’re gonna have a problem if you keep doing that,” Eddie’s voice was rough even as he smiled over you.

“What?” you laughed, full of faux innocence. He just smirked. “No, what?”

“You know what.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” you shrug, going to scoop some more frosting out when he snags the tub from you.

“Wh— hey!”

You already missed his warmth when he sank back onto folded legs, dipping his forefinger into the tub.

“You’re gonna get your rings all sticky,”

You blushed when that made him cackle, but you at least got the comfort of his body again as he hunched over you. His smile was tangible against the side of your neck, his hair tickling you again.

“Not the only thing that—”

“Eddie, shu-u-ush,” you laughed, and he flattened himself on top of you again, leaving tacky, sugary kisses on your neck while you pried the vanilla frosting from his hand. He gave up on keeping it from you, happy to have a free hand again to seek out your waist with.

Holding the container with one hand, you arched your other arm over him to scoop just one more—you swore just one more! —fingertip of frosting, but he was pulling back before you could even dip into it.

“Gimme that—”

“So rude taking things from me today,” you tutted, watching with a pout as he fed himself some of your treat.

“Have to have you all to myself,” he mimicked some toxic-alpha-dude-type bravado, but he couldn’t even get through it without chuckling at the end.

Eddie prodded at the dwindling supply of Betty Crocker’s then tossed the container back onto his bedside table. But you reached out to catch his wrist and brought his index finger to your mouth before he could bring it to his own.

He groaned, leaning onto one elbow while he gawked at you. His full lips parted at the sight of you, his thumb brushing against your cheek as you sucked on his finger. Damn.

“You never play fair.”

“And you like that,” you stated proudly once he slid his finger back out of your mouth.

“Course I do,” he grunted, sliding the pad of his thumb over your lower lip. “May have taken a few attempts to graduate, but I’m not that dumb.”

Your following giggle was breathy and fleeting as you sunk into the tension filling the room. You took in the growing heat in his gaze that tracked his thumb while it hooked your bottom lip. He mimicked opening his own mouth as you did so without even being asked, making him smile and drag his tongue over his lip. He slid his pointer finger down your tongue again, letting it trail down until he was holding your chin between his curled finger and thumb. Keeping your chin down and lips parted, he leaned in. The kiss was firmer—more determined—and desperate. He was putting every ounce of his desire into you, and this time you were the one melting. You felt like you were sinking deeper into that old mattress, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him with you.