#but those were the two things i could come up with

[redraspberryleaf]

I grew up way out in the bush in a large house insulated with newspaper in the older parts. For this reason, we didn't have AC since it was way too expensive to cool, but since the canadian prairies regularly range from -40°C to +40°C in a year, we didn't cook inside in the summer. We could just do food you didn't need to cook, but the house would get so hot you pretty much didn't go inside at all during the day so we did one of four things:

1. Everybody got half a watermelon and a spoon for lunch and would find a shady spot to eat. Very important that if you decide to go out on the trails in the bush you stay far far away from the meadow where the beehives are.

2. Food on a fire. If it wasn't too dry out and we weren't running the risk of wildfire you would do food on a fire in one of two places: the fire pit (an old tractor rim with side vents cut in and a grate over top surrounded by gravel, benches, and faerie lights) or the little pizza oven that lived on top of a massive erratic boulder surrounded by flagstones for fire safety. Tearing into those pizzas while they were still hot enough to burn without cutting into them before the cats or dogs had a chance to try to steal any is a core memory of what summer is. It was also really good smoke flavour because we would use (a small amount of) dead fall from the bush that we would chop up whenever a big storm or tornado came through and took down trees. The trembling aspen were pretty bendy and resilient, so it was mostly delicious delicious oak that would come down.

3. My dad used to set up a little smoker BBQ beside the tire shop in the yard so while doing tractor tires or between changing regular tires he could check on the food and smoke it slowly all day. That was always yummy and people always tried to befriend my dad, help out, and linger in hopes of getting a taste. Since I grew up eating a specific style of shashlik that they do in the Slavic parts of rural saskatchewan where my dad grew up (instead of kebabs it was much larger chunks of the most delicious lamb meat you've ever had marinated in onion and lemon then eaten with your hands) I sorta just learned to eat all barbecue uncut with my hands and face.

4. The garden. Once things start to really come up instead of eating lunch, sometimes you just go grazing. You just go crawling through the dirt munching lettuce and radishes, sun warmed tomatoes and cool cucumbers shaded under leaves. The snap peas were all reserved for my sister so those were off limits. The best was when berries were in season and you'd feed on saskatoons or absolutely obliterate an entire bush of wild raspberries and come put looking like you'd torn someone's throat out with your teeth.

All of this is to say, I grew up eating entirely feral in the summers and can confirm it is ALWAYS the MOST delicious way food can be eaten. Every chance you get, you should obliterate your food with your hands and face and wash it down with a cool glass of water. Nothing on this earth will make you feel more alive and like a real person that is a part of this earth and connected to this world. I also highly encourage you to do this outside on bare ground (you can have a plate under the food of course, but put your body on the ground if you can). Nothing will taste better.

ordered pizza from a small local place and they didnt actually cut it so i've chosen to revert to a wild animal and begin ripping it apart instead of just using a knife to portion slices

[newobsessionweekly]

She's my wife

Tim Bradford x wife!reader

part 1

Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: You are Tim's wife, six months pregnant, and refusing to rest. When you're assigned to recruit police officers for a new Metro team, your husband makes sure no one messes with his wife.

Fluff

A/N: Well, it's been a while but I guess I'm back in business. The most requested imagine of all! I hope you all enjoy it and excuse my disappearance. I can't guarantee you'll get more work from me as often as I used you to, but I can promise you I'll write and post all my ideas! Thank you for your support! Lots of love, bubs! Take care of yourselves! 🫶🏻

Warnings: None, pure fluff, (maybe mention of small injuries i guess?), not proofread yet

Requested: Yes!

Words: -

If there was one thing Tim Bradford never expected to happen in his lifetime, it was being completely and utterly wrapped around someone’s finger.

And yet, here he was.

It had started the second you told him you were pregnant. He’d been so sure he’d keep his cool—be the composed, level-headed Sergeant he was known to be. But the moment those words left your mouth, his entire world tilted on its axis. For the first time in years, something scared him. Not a suspect pulling a gun, not a high-risk Metro raid—this. You. The life growing inside of you.

Of course, you didn’t make it easy on him.

You had spent the first two trimesters of your pregnancy insisting that you were fine, rolling your eyes every time he tried to gently suggest that you should slow down.

"Tim," you sighed one evening, standing in your kitchen while he insisted on cooking for you. "You’re hovering."

"I am not hovering," he said flatly, though he absolutely was.

You arched a brow, leaning against the counter. "I’m pregnant, not dying."

Tim grunted, flipping the chicken in the pan. "Still not taking any chances."

You smirked, stepping closer, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. "You love worrying about me, don’t you?"

He sighed, tilting his head down to press a kiss to your temple. "Yeah, well. You make it impossible not to."

What he didn’t expect was that pregnancy would turn him into the world’s most overprotective husband.

It started subtly—making sure you ate on time, setting reminders on his phone for all your doctor’s appointments, researching vitamins when you weren’t looking. Then it got worse.

Like the time he woke up at 2 AM to find you scrolling through work emails.

"Are you kidding me?" He groaned, rolling over to take the tablet from your hands. "You’re supposed to be sleeping."

"I am sleeping."

"You’re awake," he deadpanned.

You just smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. "Then make me tired, Sergeant."

But by the second trimester? Oh, he was doomed.

Because you were still you—stubborn, reckless, and infuriatingly unwilling to slow down.

He should’ve seen it coming. You had spent your entire career proving yourself in Metro’s elite tactical unit, earning every bit of respect that came your way. You weren’t just some officer—they called you a tactical genius, someone who could think three steps ahead in high-pressure situations.

So of course, when the brass suggested you take maternity leave, you laughed in their faces.

"You should take it," Tim had said carefully, fully expecting a figh

You scoffed, arms crossed over your chest. "And do what? Sit at home and wait?"

"It’s called resting, sweetheart."

You’d rolled your eyes so hard he was surprised they didn’t get stuck. "Not happening."

And, of course, you won.

Instead of getting benched entirely, you were offered a leadership role—forming a new Metro team. It was a compromise. Less fieldwork, more strategy. And while Tim reluctantly agreed it was the best option, it didn’t stop him from hovering over you like a damn bodyguard every chance he got.

Now, here you were—six months pregnant and stationed at Mid-Wilshire, observing officers, evaluating skills, and deciding who was good enough for your team.

And here Tim was, barely keeping it together.

The Mid-Wilshire training room was filled with tension as the candidates for your Metro team sat in front of you. Lucy Chen, Angela Lopez, John Nolan, Nyla Harper, and a few other officers watched you with rapt attention as you paced the front of the room, flipping open the folder in your hands.

"Metro isn’t just about skill," you said, voice steady and firm. "It’s about adaptability, precision, and teamwork. Today, I want to see how you handle high-pressure situations."

You gestured toward the training mats. "We’re going to run a combat demonstration—basic takedowns, disarm techniques, and reaction time drills."

Tim immediately frowned.

He knew what you were doing. You wanted to prove yourself. Wanted to show these officers that pregnancy hadn’t slowed you down, that you were still as sharp and dangerous as ever. And while he respected the hell out of that, it didn’t stop the knot of worry from tightening in his chest.

"Are you sure—" Tim started, stepping forward.

"Yes," you cut him off before he could finish, shooting him a look that said don’t start.

He exhaled sharply but didn’t argue.

The officers lined up as you demonstrated a quick disarm technique, moving through the motions with practiced ease. But Tim saw it immediately. The slight hesitation in your step, the way your movements weren’t as fluid as usual.

Your balance was off.

Officer Matthews—new to Mid-Wilshire, cocky as hell—stepped up for the exercise. He moved fast, testing the maneuver harder than necessary. You reacted on instinct, blocking his attack, but—

You stumbled.

Not a lot. Barely anything. But Tim saw it.

Before anyone else could react, he was already there, hand gripping your arm, the other steadying your waist. His entire body was rigid, tension rolling off him in waves.

"Are you okay?" His voice was low, controlled—but barely.

You huffed, annoyed. "I’m fine, Tim. I just lost my footing—"

"You shouldn’t even be—"

"Don’t." You cut him off sharply, leveling him with a glare. "I know my limits."

Tim’s stomach burned.

And then Matthews laughed.

Your husband's head snapped toward him so fast it was a miracle the kid didn’t flinch.

"You think this is funny?" Tim’s voice dropped, low and dangerous.

Matthews shrugged, unfazed. "I just think it’s a little ironic that Metro sent a pregnant woman to recruit us."

The temperature in the room plummeted.

Lucy and Angela both stiffened, already knowing what was coming. Nolan looked like he wanted to disappear, and Nyla just smirked, waiting for the fallout.

Tim took a slow step forward. "You want to run that by me again?"

Matthews chuckled, oblivious. "I just mean, maybe Metro should—"

"That’s my wife." Tim’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

Matthews’ smirk vanished.

Tim stepped closer, looming over the rookie, his entire body coiled with restrained fury. "That’s my wife," he repeated, voice sharp as steel, "and if you ever question her ability again, you won’t just lose your chance at Metro—you’ll lose your badge altogether."

Matthews swallowed, stepping back. "I—I didn’t know—"

"Yeah?" Tim’s tone was ice. "Well, now you do."

Silence.

The entire room seemed to collectively hold its breath.

Tim turned back to you, eyes scanning over you, checking—always checking. His hand found its way to your waist again, grounding himself in the solid reality of you standing there, unharmed.

"You okay?" he murmured, softer now.

You sighed, pressing a hand to his chest. "Tim, I’m fine."

He didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. "We’re talking about this later."

"Looking forward to it," you deadpanned.

The tension in the room slowly lifted as Matthews slinked away, and Lucy finally broke the silence with a grin. "Well, that was fun."

Nyla chuckled. "I was wondering when people would finally figure it out."

Nolan exhaled, shaking his head. "I knew something was up."

You rolled your eyes, stepping back and addressing the room. "Alright. Now that everyone is caught up—back to training."

And just like that, the spell broke.

But as you walked back toward the mats, Tim caught your hand, squeezing gently. You looked up, meeting his gaze—warm, steady, and unapologetically devoted.

Because if there was one thing everyone knew now, it was that messing with you meant dealing with him.

And no one messed with Tim Bradford’s wife.

[thetadispatcher]

"Good thing I can handle stupid, I deal with it every day." Begrudgingly the RK900 put up with a lot of the things he felt were ridiculous, as he knew it was harder to get a human to stop certain behavior. At least sometimes he could enjoy the process of correcting behavior, the challenge of making sure they didn't catch on was what made it tolerable to him.

John glanced at Bishop then Nines, he felt the two had oddly similar outlooks on certain topics, which he found to be mildly concerning as he nodded his head.

Nines raised his eyebrows slightly, amused by the fact a human could so casual talk about more intimate things when most would rather avoid the topic. "Yes, it provides a lot of interesting ways to silence talkative humans, even mouthy ones. It's the only time Detective Reed is tolerable and open to actually listening to my orders. It has provided very useful information about how humans operate." He glanced at Daniel as the older unit gave him a questioning frown, knowing exactly what the PL600 was thinking. "Yes, I am equipped with the correct parts, unlike the RK800s. Although it was intended for certain undercover operations, I feel information gathering is also a good use." He watched Daniel shake his head before leaving to return to his task of watching the drugged human.

Kelvin nodded in response to her answer, the action was uncoordinated and forced him to widen his stance as to not knock himself over. It didn't seem to bother him as he was accustomed to the jerky movements the damage caused, most of which he found ways to prevent himself from falling over.

He wasn't upset by the lack of an answer, knowing that he would eventually get one was good enough for him. He gave her a smile as a way to show he appreciated the help in locating his friend.

The unit took a step away from her, now more focused on the long dormant programs that were coming back online and the fog in his mind clearing. His HUD still displayed error messages and damaged parts, but the list was far shorter then he was accustomed to seeing any time it popped up.

Sixty watched as Kelvin stared wide eyed at his hand, the action wasn't anything he'd consider abnormal for the other android, as he did it almost daily. He slowly came out from behind Strasky as Kelvin shook himself, feeling any possible danger was now gone. "I've heard other units say they could handle it, then react violently once linked... I've never tried myself, doesn't seem worth it." The reaction of those who tried was enough for him, they all acted like they had been shocked and wildly threw punches well trying to get away.

The RK800 glanced at the other unit again, noting the far away, almost dazed look in his eyes had improved.

"What? Like turnin' it off and on again?" Ellis questioned with a laugh. "Besides, if it's good for a car, must be good for an android. So I'd say I got a pretty good routine goin'."

Dan nodded as he watched the couple leave, it was nice to see androids forming relationships with each other, and even with humans.

"Well, there are a few units with that name, but Kelvin has met them before. He didn't seem all that interested in them, or any androids for that matter." Dan hadn't seen or heard of Kelvin showing anything akin to excitement around other android models, seeing as there were only so many different faces they could have.

"Must be a human, he always seems more giddy if he knows a human is showing up when we don't provide a name." Dan usually had to let the other unit know when he'd be busy and what with, just so he wouldn't wander in during anything important in hopes of helping. "But I can work with just a name." He knew when the android had been shut down thanks to Peter, and they already suspected Kelvin had been involved in an accident that was likely reported on. The issue was narrowing it down to which one as the androids involved were never given names, only the humans.

"The only incident I can find that would fit involving a human named Jack and androids, is a search and rescue that went awry. The human's name is Jack Holt." Dan paused as he reviewed more of the information he found, attempting to further confirm that was likely the human Kelvin was asking about.

"The book he wrote about the ordeal mentions a damaged android being the only other crash survivor, it's behavior does match Kelvin's..." The PL600 held up his hand as he displayed the image he'd found of Jack Holt along with the book.

"If that's not him, then I have no other guess as to who he might be asking for."

"Welcome to personhood. You will now be subjected to an even dafter set of expectations and assumptions."

It was hard to expect any empathy from him. People have always been judgmental and set in their prejudices. If it took an uprising to get androids to where they were now, it would take them as much, if not longer, to accept that faces didn't match personalities.

He had no such issues. Those exceptions all accounted towards the strategic information he collected so obsessively.

"Indeed, you shouldn't. Then again, the chances of finding someone that similar or different might be about the same. Not that I ever cared to look into this topic to know."

He only cared about his own Earth and how to defend it. Bishop watched the androids' reactions, not showing any emotion of his own. It technically was an effective strategy, they had no reason to act so outraged.

But also, that gave him another chance to poke Nines. "You really are well trained. Are you recommending this because you've personally been testing this strategy?"

Willow heard the question clearly, but unfortunately couldn't provide an answer yet. She would look into it later as improving Kelvin's conditions had the priority at the moment.

The flood of garbage code was a fraction of the data stream she was accustomed to and so fond of. She worked carefully, but swiftly to clear up some of that mess to bring some order. Carthage's products were constantly copied, she could leave behind a couple of useful algorithms without worrying too much about conflicts.

'I don't know. But we can look for him.' she replied.

As soon as she had replenished her nanites. The process was completed in a few minutes and she retreated within herself to give Kelvin some space.

"Well, that was an educational experience." she mused, looking back to Sixty, "As I said, I could deal with this."

Really, she didn't enjoy putting herself in danger.

"I guess that works, but wear and tear is bad too. You've got to practice your skincare routine, you know?"

It seemed Rook felt confident enough to start messing around as well. She watched the interaction between Dan and the construction units. It was really heartwarming to see they were free to form that kind of relationships as well.

"Yep, it's great when people find each other." she said, before pulling out her phone, "Willow says that Kelvin is looking for somebody named Jack. Is that one of you guys?"

[sevsgiirl]

— sevika being needy when you’re mad at her

synopsis: sevika has very good self control, and she doesn’t usually cave in to most situations that bother her, but you giving her the silent treatment? well, that’s a whole different story.

note: this is just another sevika drabble because I can’t get the thought of her being needy out of my head.

sevika is straightforward. she doesn’t have the time nor patience when it comes to silent treatment, if she has a problem with someone she goes out of her way to tell them without sugarcoating it. romantic partners included.

there are perks to it but there is definitely a downside as well because oftentimes she can be too blunt for her own good.

you know she doesn’t mean it when she accidentally hurts your feelings or says something that catches you off guard, but then again you’re still human. so whenever you two end up disagreeing with each other, you try to be as understanding of her perspective as much as possible. but sometimes it doesn’t always work.

“where are you going?” she asked you late one night when she catches you dolling yourself up in your bedroom.

you spared her a glance from your cracked vanity mirror before rummaging through your makeup bag “I’m gonna go to the bar just to meet up with some friends. I’ll probably be back in two hours.”

you were expecting her to agree because you barely go out anyways. sevika could be a bit jealous and possessive but if there is one thing she isn’t, it’s controlling.

that’s why you were taken aback when you catch sight of her shaking her head on the mirror, a scowl on her face “no.”

you were quiet for a moment before you swiveled around to face her.

“excuse me?”

“I said no. it’s late. had you gone out earlier today I wouldn’t have minded but it’s dangerous to go out this time of night and I’m not gonna let you especially when you’re all dressed up like that.” she said.

you honestly couldn’t believe it as you stood up “well, if you’re so worried then you can just come with-“

“it’s a saturday and silco’s been on my ass the entire week. I was hoping we’d use this night to just unwind and stay in.”

you chuckled, a bitter sound “so wait, I can’t go to the last drop because it’s late but you can especially if it’s about work?”

“it’s not about where you’re going, it’s about the time. you can go out tomorrow morning or the afternoon but it’s 9:30 for crying out loud.”

“you’ve got to be kidding me. sev-“

“I’m not arguing with you.” she reprimanded “I mean it. you’re a grown adult and I got into a relationship with a grown adult. so I don’t get why you’re acting like a fucking child.”

perhaps it was the stress of her job getting to her that made her speak that way towards you, but you’d be lying if you said her harsh words didn’t get to you because they did. making your eyes well up but you refused to let her see you cry, instead you just shoved past her and into the bathroom where you took your makeup off and got undressed.

and she was glad you gave into what she wanted… or so she thought.

truth be told, she didn’t think much of what she said because in her mind she was just looking out for you. sure, if she thought about it she might’ve sounded a little harsh but it wasn’t personal. she just tends to be strict especially to those she cares about.

however, she didn’t think you’d take it to heart. that’s why in the following morning when she was cooking breakfast and heard the bedroom door open, she was surprised that instead of walking up to her and giving her a morning kiss like you always do, you aimed directly for the bathroom and slammed the door shut on your way in.

she couldn’t mask her surprise because not only did you ignore her, you didn’t sit down and have breakfast with her first. which is something you always do before showering and heading off to work.

“aren’t you going to eat?” she asked with a frown when she saw that you were already dressed and were about to head out.

without missing a beat, you replied in a dry tone “I’m not hungry,” before walking out of your apartment, again no kiss on her cheek or a goodbye. leaving her standing in the dining room alone, dumbstruck.

she thought you’d snap out of it soon but it only got worse when two days had passed and you still haven’t exchanged at least three sentences with her.

it was just the occasional ‘no’ ‘I’m fine’ and ‘nothing’s wrong’ even though you hadn’t been talking to her through dinners and had your back turned to her when you slept. no cuddling, no kissing, just pure silence.

sevika thought she was about to go crazy.

usually, she wouldn’t give in to this kind of pettiness but there’s only so much of you withholding affection from her that she could take before it started affecting her.

she didn’t even know what she did wrong but if she had to take a guess it was probably when she didn’t let you go out to meet your friends. but come on, really? she was just looking out for you.

but of course, she had to set her pride aside, and so without you expecting it, she cornered you while you were rummaging the fridge trying to find something to eat - not noticing her broad figure looming close behind.

you jumped when a pair of strong arms suddenly wrapped themselves around you “what the-“ you begun wiggling out of her hold “sevika, what are you-“

you were silenced when sevika nuzzled her face in the crook of your neck and only tightened her hold on your waist.

“can you please stop ignoring me? I’m sorry, okay? whatever it is I did, I’m sorry.”

it took you a second to process her words but when you did, you just rolled your eyes “you don’t even know what it is that you’re apologizing for.”

“is it because I didn’t let you go out to meet your friends the other night? I’m sorry but I just didn’t want you to go out while it was late. you know I’d never boss you around-“

“sev, it’s not that.” you sighed “it’s about the comment you said afterwards. about me acting like a child?”

she was quiet and you shook your head “it was such a shitty thing to say. I could’ve understood where you were coming from but you know how I hate it when people talk down on me and you’re the last person I expected that from.”

a pang of of guilt shot right through her chest when she realized her mistake, because you were right. perhaps she should’ve been more careful with how she phrased her words because no matter how much you two disagree on certain things, her intention is never to hurt you.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” she placed a soft kiss on your shoulder “you’re right. it’s my fault. I was a dick. maybe it’s because I was stressed but that still isn’t a good reason to have talked to you like that.”

you were about to make a snarky remark when out of nowhere, sevika dropped to her knees in front of you and pulled you forward by your hips. looking up at you with big puppy dog eyes and it was like all your self restraint flew right out the window because here she was, your big strong intimidating girlfriend who’s feared by many, acting needy and desperate for your forgiveness.

“I’ll do whatever it takes, just please stop with the silent treatment.” she said, lifting your shirt up to kiss your tummy and you let out a shuddering breath “please baby, I’m sorry. really I am.”

you bit your lip, taking her jaw in your hand as you examined her face “who would’ve thought you’d be the type to beg?”

she looked down sheepishly and you couldn’t help but laugh, amused.

“but fine,” you said, leaning down to kiss her and you made sure to slip your tongue in, making her groan because this was the first time in three days that you gave her any sort of physical affection.

so she didn’t stop not until you two found it hard to breathe.

you smirked “since you asked so nicely after all.”

[shikaizer]

no shame. jujuwatkins x reader.

after a argument, the two of you found yourself ignoring each other, but what happens when she catch you pleasuring yourself?

smut. edging. teasing.overstimulating.

You hated arguing with her.

It wasn’t even a big fight, just one of those dumb, late night disagreements that start with something small, something like forgetting to respond to a text, and somehow spiral into raised voices and bruised egos, you both said too much,or maybe not enough.

now the bedroom was silent, heavy with tension, the two of you lay back to back in the dark facing opposite walls, arms tucked in tight, not touching.

you stared at the ceiling for a while, eyes adjusting, heart still pounding with leftover emotion, you weren’t even sure if you were still mad or just hurt, or both.

juju’s breathing was steady, slow, she was either asleep or pretending to be, you didn’t want to be the first one to break the silence,not yet,but God… her scent is still lingering on your skin, from earlier when you hugged, before the argument, before everything went cold.

you shifted under the covers, suddenly hyper-aware of your body,your mind drifted whether out of spite or longing, you weren’t sure but your hand found its way between your thighs before you could stop it.

It started innocent, Just a small touch, like a way to calm your nerves, to distract yourself, but it didn’t stay that way, you moved slowly, biting your lip to stay quiet, your fingers slick with need before you'd even slipped beneath your waistband.

you thought about her,her mouth,her voice when she whispered your name against your neck, the way she always knew exactly how to touch you,you closed your eyes and let the memories blur together,sweet ones, messy ones, the ones that made your whole body ache.

you rolled your eyes back parting your mouth open as you start to move your fingers faster.

then you heard her shift,you froze, hand still, eyes wide in the dark.

juju rolled over slowly, her voice low, groggy,but sharp. “are you seriously touching yourself right now?” your breath caught, you didn’t answer.

you expected her to be mad,but instead, she reached over, fingers wrapping gently around your wrist.

“You couldn’t even wait till I forgave you?”

her voice was teasing and raspy, with that edge she always got when she was turned on but trying to hide it. she tugged your hand away, then slipped hers under the covers instead, replacing your touch with hers.

she rubbed your clit in circular motions “you thought i wouldn’t notice?” she whispered low lips brushing behind your ear. “you think i dont know the sound of you trying not to moan?”

her fingers moved with a kind of quiet urgency, like she was torn between punishing you for teasing her and making you feel everything you been holding back.

you lay on your side, legs tangled, your back pressed to her chest as her hand worked beneath your panties slow steady strokes that made your hips twitch and your breath hitch.

you whimpered, barely able to answer. “I just… needed you.” juju let out a hitched breath, equal parts exasperated and aroused. “you could just said that instead of getting me all worked up for not replying."

you almost laughed, but it caught in your throat as her fingers curled just right, sending sparks through your core, She slid one leg between yours, tilting your hips so she could reach deeper, press firmer.

“baby…” she breathed out, her lips now grazing your neck. “your soaking. you really were laying here this whole time, thinking about me touching you like this?”

you nodded, jaw clenched to keep from crying out “Let go,” she whispered. “Come for me.”

and just like that, her fingers curling again, her palm rubbing perfectly against your clit, her breath hot on your skin, you broke apart.

your whole body tightened, hips jerking as the climax hit hard, washing through you in waves. you gasped, face buried in the pillow, her name the only thing you could manage.

she held you close the whole time, letting you ride it out, whispering soft things like, “thats it." and “I got you." when it was over, she kissed the back of your shoulder, slow and sweet.

“still mad at me?” you asked, voice shaky, she chuckled softly, pulling you even closer. “im mad you didn’t wake me up sooner.” you turned in her arms to face her. “your awake now.” her eyes darkened, her lips brushing yours. “then I guess I’m not done with you yet.”

you are still catching your breath when juju pulled back slightly, brushing your hair from your face, her fingers were slick with your release, but she didn’t seem to care if anything, she looked proud.

you reached for her, still a little dazed but craving her touch again, this time with more purpose.

“you said you’re not done with me” you murmured, voice low and hoarse.

That was all it took.

juju kissed you hard, hand cupping your cheek, her body sliding over yours as she settled between your thighs.

the kiss was all tongue and heat, a little desperate, but soft in the way only someone who knows you that well can be.

when she pulled back, her lips were slightly swollen, eyes locked on yours “you need to say it” she whispered. you swallowed “i want you.”

“no." she said, her voice deeper now, sultry and commanding “say what you want.” you looked up at her, breath trembling “i want you inside me.”

that made her smile slow curve of her lips as she slid down your body, kissing a trail from your chest to your stomach “good girl”

her mouth found your clit easily, tongue parting you without hesitation, and your whole body arched toward her.

She knew you too well how to tease, how to build you back up from the edge you just fell off, how to make you beg with just a flick of her tongue on your clit.

she gripped your thighs and pulled you closer to her face, moaning softly into you like you were the best thing she’d ever tasted. you threaded your fingers into her hair, hips moving on instinct as she devoured you, steady and relentless.

“juju—” you gasped, legs trembling, she paused only to say, “im not stopping this time, your gonna come again, in my mouth.”

And you did.

the second orgasm hit even harder, your body too sensitive, too turned on from before,but you couldn’t stop it,she kept going, held you down, pushed you through it until you were squirming, crying out, barely able to take it.

when she finally pulled back, she kissed the inside of your thigh, then crawled back up and pulled you into her arms.

you were speechless, limp, wrecked and she looked way too smug about it.

“i love you,” she whispered suddenly, you blinked up at her, your heart twisting in the best way. “Even when we fight?”

“Especially when we make up.”

you smiled, pressing your forehead to hers. “Remind me to fight with you more often.” she laughed, hand sliding under the blanket to rest on your stomach. “Say that again and I’ll make you come a third time.”

your breath caught “…That a threat or a promise?” juju raised an eyebrow. “Keep talking and find out.”

masterlist.

🔖 — @addl0vee @tndaqlwifwy @mrsarnold @melpthatsme @bellaprintz25 @janaelalfysblunt @ellehoops @belsoulss @apbueckers @uwupaige @janaelalfysloml @paige05bby @azzisbueckers @paigeluvvr @giavonnii @taylynbueckers44 @jupitermoonbaby @shootingstarrrrr @dalilahissilly @luldejamleer @d7dream

[millers-angel]

joel's girl dad(dy)!joel x virgin!female reader

this is the second part of lollipop story. summary: you were supposed to be on a date with a guy, but instead, end up fucking with joel. warnings: ddlg dynamics, daddy kink, loss of virginity, innocence kink, size kink, possessive joel, jealous joel, smut, unprotected sex, heavy thumb sucking, reader has an oral fixation.

"i'm getting the door!" you said running but joel was already on his way.

no that he didn't hear you or anything, he wanted to be the one who opened the door. the one who got to 'greet' the guy you invited over.

after what happened you'd ask for 'cuddles' as an excuse to grind yourself on his bulge, you were always sticked to his lap, sucking lollipops for him—no matter who was near, you'd be glancing at him while you work on your candy. you'd ask him to suck on his thumb to sleep—and he'd let you. he'd let you do all those things because he can't resist you, not when you're all innocent about it. 

so he told you you'd be better with someone your age, encouraging you to go on a date with a guy—he thought it was the best way to get you distracted since you were always coming to his room looking for pleasure—even if you didn't say it out loud. but he talked to you about going out with someone else, to try new things. 

and so you did. 

you invited someone over, and got ready. he’s a nice guy, but joel… joel wouldn’t trust anyone.

that’s why he was the one to open the door. even though it was his idea, even though he had no right to interfere—he still wouldn’t let just anyone walk into his home. not when it was you. not when you were his.

joel stood at the door, broad and unmoving, eyes dark as he looked the guy up and down. the poor guy shifted on his feet, clearly nervous under his stare.

then you appeared at the top of the stairs. the second the guy saw you, his whole face changed, breaking into an eager smile.

“hey,” you greeted, stepping down. “come in.”

joel exhaled, stepping aside, but not before lowering his voice. “don’t try anything stupid,” he muttered, low and firm. “keep it clean.”

the guy nodded a little too quickly, stepping past him like he could feel the weight of that warning.

the night was nice. easy. he brought milkshakes, and you pulled up a movie on the tv, both of you curled up on the couch. but neither of you really watched it. instead, you talked, soft laughter filling the space, the glow of the screen casting warm shadows over your faces.

“i like your hair,” he said suddenly, watching you.

you tilted your head. “yeah?”

“yeah,” he reached out slowly, tucking a loose strand behind your ear, his fingertips barely brushing your skin. "you're like... super pretty."

"well, thank you," you blinked. you laughed, a little breathless. “want a popsicle?”

he nodded, and you left for a moment, coming back with two. you handed him one, peeling the wrapper off yours, licking at the cold sweetness as you glanced at him.

he was already looking at you, at your lips.

your stomach flipped, but before you could say anything, movement caught your eye.

joel.

he was coming down the stairs, slow and steady, gaze locked right on you.

you couldn't help it, you had to tease him, you got the lollipop deeper, tightening your lips around it, holding it longer than you should, until it was melting around your lips.

he didn't make a sound either, he just... watched. 

and so was the guy, he didn't even notice your gaze wasn't on him, he was looking directly to your lips.

"it's melting," he cleared his throat when he realized his voice was too raspy. "lemme help."

he draw his fingers around your lips as you took the popsicle out your mouth. he cleaned you and you slid his finger past your lips, slow and sweet, tongue flicking over the sticky sugar left behind.

joel gaze darkened. you're gonna make him lose his mind.

his breath hitched, but you just smiled around it, letting it go with a little pop.

"you're so hot," he murmured, almost in disbelief.

you giggled, popping the popsicle back in your mouth, letting it sit there as you looked up at him. "yeah? you like this?"

he laughed, a little nervous, eyes dropping to your lips again. "yeah," he admitted.

you pulled it out with a soft smack, lips glistening. "they're so cold now."

he swallowed hard, shifting closer. "i can fix that," he offered, voice lower now, still a little unsure.

you raised a brow. "how?"

he didn’t answer. he just leaned in, lowering his head, giving you the chance to pull away. but you didn’t. you just smiled, let him close the gap, let his lips press to yours.

it was slow, warm, nothing rushed. his hands found your waist, hesitating for a second. "is this okay?"

you nodded, and he kissed you again, deeper this time.

but you couldn’t help it. you opened your eyes.

joel was still there. still watching.

your stomach flipped, and you shut your eyes again, melting into it.

for a moment, it was just that—his hands, his mouth, his warmth.

but then—

"hey."

joel’s voice, sharp, right there.

you barely had time to pull back before he was standing over you, jaw tight, arms crossed, eyes dark with something unreadable.

"don’t do that," he said, voice low, controlled, but you knew him. you could hear the anger simmering beneath it.

the guy straightened up fast, hands leaving you. "s-sorry, i didn’t—"

"i don’t care," joel cut him off, his eyes locked on yours. "it’s time to go."

"but we're just having fun," you looked up to joel with an innocent gaze but only made him angrier. 

"no, it's okay, i'll leave, sir." the guy said standing up. 

"but we’re just having fun," you pouted up at joel, all innocence, but it only made his jaw tick harder.

"no, it's okay, i'll leave, sir," the guy said quickly, already pushing himself up.

you grabbed his hand before he could move too far, pulling him toward the door. joel didn’t follow, but he didn’t go far either. you could feel him standing close, listening.

the guy rubbed the back of his neck. "uh—can we… see each other again?" he asked, voice lower now, nervous. "somewhere more private?"

you tilted your head, teasing. "more private?"

he swallowed. "yeah. not that i didn’t like coming here, it’s just…" his cheeks turned a little red. "i wanna be alone with you, you know?"

you bit back a smile. "alone?" you echoed, playing dumb. "for what?"

he laughed, looking away for a second before meeting your gaze again. "you know."

you hummed, pretending to think. "hmm. fine," you relented. "but bring me something pretty. flowers, maybe."

his face lit up. "yeah. yeah, of course."

"good." you grinned. "now, stay here. i’ll grab you something."

"what?" he chuckled.

"a popsicle," you winked. "so you don’t forget me."

you turned, feeling his eyes on you as you walked off, slipping into the kitchen. you took your time, letting the seconds stretch, letting joel sit with whatever was brewing under that heavy stare of his.

but when you came back, popsicle in hand, joel was standing close to the guy, speaking low.

the guy looked nervous.

you stepped up, holding out the popsicle. "here," you said, smiling sweetly.

he took it, glancing at joel before looking back at you. "uh—thanks."

joel didn’t say a word.

the guy hesitated for just a second before nodding and stepping out the door.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

you're sobbing, appearing in the doorframe, then crawling on bed to him. you just been dumped by the guy you were going out with, and who's the only one who can fix it? joel.

he's there, laying back against the headboard, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, book in one hand, glasses sliding down his nose.

"hey, what's wrong, little one?"

you sniffle, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your hand. you feel so small, so pathetic.

"i don't get it," you whisper. "i don't get what i did wrong."

joel sighs, closing the book and setting it aside. he watches you for a second, like he's trying to figure out what to say.

"you didn't do nothin' wrong, sweetheart."

"then why—" your voice breaks. "why did he just—never showed up?"

joel presses his lips together. doesn't answer right away. you crawl closer, until you're right beside him, fingers curling into his shirt, clinging.

"m'not pretty enough?" you ask, looking up at him with those big, teary eyes. "m'not good enough?"

his jaw tightens, his hand cups your cheek. "don't say that, you're the prettiest girl."

"but it's true, isn't it?" your fingers grip him tighter, pulling yourself into his warmth. "he didn't want me. nobody wants me."

joel swallows. his hands hover, like he wants to touch you but knows he shouldn't.

"that's not true," he mutters.

you sniff again, nuzzling into his chest. he's warm. solid. safe, like he always have.

"you want me, daddy?" your voice is soft, innocent. like you don't even realize what you're saying... but you know what you're doing.

joel tenses. his hands fist in the sheets.

"you don't know what you're askin', sweetheart."

"but i do," you mumble, looking up at him. "i want you."

he inhales sharply, like he's holding his breath. his eyes darken, but he shakes his head.

"this ain't right," he mutters, more to himself than to you.

but you just curl closer, nose brushing his neck, fingers tugging at his shirt.

"please, daddy," you whisper.

joel squeezes his eyes shut. exhales through his nose.

"jesus," he mutters.

but he doesn't push you away.

you started leaving sloppy kisses on his neck, nibbling his skin, reaching his earlobe, biting it a bit. "you liked it the other day,"

he didn't deny it. he just let you follow. your lips brush against his, soft and hesitant, testing the waters. joel doesn’t pull away. he meets you there, lips barely moving against yours, like he’s still deciding, still fighting something inside himself.

but then he took a deep breath, breaking away just enough to speak. "this ain’t right," he mutters, his voice low and strained.

"it's not wrong," you whisper back, chasing after his lips again, pressing yourself against him. "they’re wrong. those boys don’t know what they want." your fingers curl around his wrist, tugging him closer. "but you do, daddy. you’re a man."

joel groans, deep in his throat, like he's in pain. his hands—big, warm—slide down, finding your waist, gripping tight, trying to get his shit together. "damn it, sweetheart," he grits out, like he’s trying to resist but he can’t.

you press your forehead to his, your breath warm against his lips. "don’t fight it," you murmur. "please."

his hands move, gripping your hips now, fingers digging in, holding you steady. his touch is firm, commanding, but still careful, like he’s afraid you’ll break.

"look at you," he murmurs, almost like he’s in awe. "so damn pretty."

your breath hitches, and joel takes advantage of the moment, tilting your chin up, keeping you where he wants. his lips ghost over yours, teasing, before dipping lower, pressing against the curve of your jaw, the soft spot just beneath your ear.

you sigh, melting into him, your fingers sliding down his chest, toying with the hem of his shirt.

"take it off," you whisper, half a plea, half a demand.

his eyes flick up to yours, dark, searching.

"yeah?" he breathes.

you nod, fingers already slipping under the fabric, pushing it up.

joel doesn’t stop you.

you take him in, eyes dark, roaming over the broad expanse of his chest, the strength in his arms, the soft curve of his tummy. the hair dusting his skin, the warmth you feel from him—it’s all so joel. so utterly him.

you love it. love him. love that he looks like a man, strong and solid and real.

your hands skim his sides, then you lean down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his tummy. you feel the way he tenses beneath your lips, the way his breath catches.

"you’re the most handsome man i’ve ever seen, daddy," you murmur, voice soft.

joel huffs out a breath, shaking his head, but there’s something soft in his expression. "sweetheart, i’m too old."

"i love that about you," you counter, pressing another kiss, this time just above his navel, feeling him shudder beneath your lips.

he exhales sharply, then captures your chin between his fingers, tilting your face up. his lips crash onto yours, warm and wanting, and you melt into it.

when he pulls back, his thumb strokes your cheek, his voice rough but gentle. "you see now, baby? you don’t need those boys."

you let out a breathy laugh, eyes glittering. "this was your idea," you remind him.

joel smirks, but his grip on you tightens, possessive. "it was so you’d see they ain’t worth a damn," he murmurs, voice low. "you’ve got me. i take care of you. i treat you like you deserve."

your cheeks burn, a flush creeping up your neck at his words, at the weight of his gaze, dark and intense. you let out a soft little giggle, unable to help it, but joel doesn’t let you squirm away.

instead, he shifts, moving over you, his presence heavy, overwhelming, right.

his eyes pin you in place. "don’t go lookin’ for him again," he mutters, firm. "you don’t need him. you got me."

joel’s fingers find the hem of your dress, rough fingertips grazing the soft fabric. he pauses, just for a second, like giving you a chance to stop him, but you don’t—you won’t.

slowly, he pushes the material up, his knuckles brushing against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. his eyes never leave yours, dark and intent, watching every little reaction, every breathy hitch in your throat.

"you wear this for him?" he mutters, voice low, possessive.

you shake your head, lips parting, barely able to form words under the heat of his gaze. "no," you whisper. "for you."

something flickers in his expression—something deep, something dangerous.

his hands move higher, gathering the dress until it slips over your head, leaving you bare beneath his heavy stare. he exhales sharply, jaw tight, eyes tracing every inch of you like you’re something his.

"good girl," he murmurs, letting his palms find your waist, your ribs, the warmth of his touch grounding you, making you dizzy all at once. "mine."

his lips trail lower, warm and deliberate, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down your ribs, over the softness of your stomach. his beard scratches lightly against your skin, leaving a tingle in its wake, and you shiver, fingers threading through his hair, holding him close.

joel hums against you, like he’s savoring every inch, like he wants to take his time. his hands grip your waist, rough palms spreading over your hips as he drags his mouth lower, nose brushing along your skin.

“pretty girl,” he murmurs, voice thick, reverent. “so sweet.”

your breath catches when he nips gently at your side, his tongue soothing over the spot right after. your thighs tense around him, your grip in his hair tightening, but he doesn’t stop—doesn’t want to stop.

you let out a shaky breath, barely able to think, barely able to do anything except feel as he worships every inch of you.

“god,” you whisper, voice unsteady.

he looks up at you then, dark eyes full of something hungry.

“told you, baby,” he rasps, pressing another kiss just above your navel. “you don’t need anyone else.”

he stops for a second to get rid of his sweatpants, you just watch taking your thumb to your lips... he's bulky. his dick must ache to be freed, he has a dark spot, precum leaking through the fabric. 

he placed you on the pillows so you'd be more comfortable, you cupped his face to meet his lips again, there's nothing you enjoy more than feeling daddy's tongue—no matter which part of your body. 

then, moved his hand between your thighs. he spread your legs gently, trailing your panty. your breath hitched when he stopped on your damped spot. 

"you're soaking wet," he said softly. 

you licked your lips and nodded. "i need you, daddy." 

his gaze is all dark, he can't help to rub his bulge on your slit, letting you feel him. 

"you see what you do to me, sweet girl? you see what you do?"

you let a soft moan. "please,"

he needed less. it was about seconds for you to be completely naked beneath him. he had seen you like this before, when you deliberated take showers in his bathroom, leaving the door opened so he can see you through his mirror. or when you rub yourself on your pillows, leaving your door cracked opened for him—you know he's watching. 

still, it makes his cock twtich. the way your pussy is all swollen, flushed just as your cheeks. now you're shy, sweetheart, he thinks.

you bite your lips when you see how his hand stroke his own cock, precum runs through his length, the tip is swollen and begging to be taken care of. 

"can i play with your toy, daddy?" you asked trying to sit on bed, but he gently wrapped your hands to push you against the pillows again. 

he held your legs to his torso. "not now," you made a face. "i'm gonna do what you've been begging me for months."

"b-but i wanted to have it in my mouth," your big, wary eyes always make him weak. 

"you can't live if you don't have something in that pretty little mouth, can you?"

you grinned, cupping his face. "because i wanted to suck on you like i suck on my lollipops. you love it," you could feel how his grip tightened on your wrists. "and... my lollipops don't have a liquid filling inside and yours does."

he groaned and took one of your hands to your mouth, popping the thumb. "suck," he asked, his voice sharp but not tough. 

"what for?" 

"you're gonna need it,"

and as you followed orders, he teased his tip on you, lowering his gaze just to see the obscene size difference. he didn't want to hurt his girl, of course he wouldn't hurt you, so he gave you something to rely on, to calm yourself if it hurts—it will. 

he went slow, and as much as your tightness were killing him, he didn't rush anything. instead, he watched your eyes widened and way you suck on your thumb went faster as you muffled a soft whimper. you were killing him in every way. 

he could come without even moving. just by feeling you, by seeing your face, just by knowing he's the first man who's ever been inside his girl. just by knowing you're his girl.

he thrusted, slowly, feeling how his cock stretch you open. you closed your eyes, daddy is even better than you ever dreamed of. 

"that it," he grunted. "this what you wanted?"

you nodded. "yes," you said as you could, voice muffled against your thumb. 

the friction of your bodies is sending you to a bliss, his hips, his cock buried deep inside you, the way he's whimpering on your ear. 

joel's breath is ragged as he moves inside you, his body pressing you into the mattress. he grips your hips tightly, using them as leverage to thrust deeper and harder, his hips meeting yours with a force that borders on desperation.

"you're daddy's pride," he gasps, his voice muffled against your neck.

joel pulls out and looks down at your body, his eyes roaming over your curves and the slickness between your legs.

"look at you," he says, his voice low and hoarse. "this mine." he says swatting your pussy, making you whine.

he runs a finger through the slickness on your skin, tracing it up to your clit and circling it slowly. you squirmed, it was too sensitive, but he couldn't help himself, he had to. seeing how your poor little pussy was all pounded because of him, he needed to touch you too.  he can see precum leaking from you, both of your juices mixed... he tossed his finger on your folds, and then took it to your mouth, you tasted him, you tasted yourself too. 

"attagirl," he says as he guided his cock back into you. 

"tasty, daddy." you licked your lips. 

this time, he held your legs on your sides, having a full view of your body beneath him, of how his cock pounds you, of you sucking your thumb, moaning, of your breasts bouncing at his pace. his girl, his sweet angel was sad just moments ago because of some random guy while all she needed is her daddy. 

"you belong to me," he growled, gripping your thighs. you nodded, closing your eyes. "repeat it."

"i belong to you, daddy." you met his gaze. 

"no more stupid boys."

"but that was your—"

he thrusted too harsh, making you whine. "no more stupid boys."

your body shivered. "no more stupid boys." you said softly. 

and that's all he needed. knowing you're his. he wasn't that gentle anymore, he went harder, feeling how your body writhed beneath him, feeling how your walls throbbed. 

he knows you're close, he knows when his girl is about to finish—he had seen you before, but now, he can feel it, he can feel how your walls trap him. you felt your legs shaking and before you knew you were babling things against your thumb. 

and joel—joel couldn't help it, he came just when he saw his girl like this, not when he felt how your walls clenched on his cock. he filled his girl with cum, thrusting deep, making sure he got everything inside. 

it was heaven for you. 

he lowered his body to you, to press his lips against your forehead, staying inside for a couple of seconds, trying to catch his breath.

then he slowly pulls out of you, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. he lets out a ragged breath as he stares down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and adoration. "you okay?" he said holding your thighs. 

"more than okay, daddy." joel lay down beside you, his breathing still heavy, his chest rising and falling with deep inhales. but you… you didn’t want to let go.

you moved quickly, throwing a leg over his hips, clinging to him like you wanted to melt into him.

“how did i do?” your voice was sweet, excited, laced with wonder. “for my first time…”

joel turned his head to you, his fingers tracing soft lines down your back.

“you were perfect,” he murmured, his voice low, rough, filled with something deeper than just satisfaction. “i’m proud of you.”

you bit your lip, warmth spreading through your chest.

“better than m—”

joel cut you off immediately, his hand coming up to hold your chin gently.

“don't.”

you giggled, burying your face in his neck. “that’s not fair.”

“why?” his tone was amused, but there was still that sharp edge of warning.

“because you get to decide things for me,” you mumbled.

joel raised an eyebrow, his fingers lazily tracing circles on your thigh. "what do you mean?"

you lifted your head just enough to look at him, lips curling into a small pout. "you scared my date away."

his brows furrowed, but the amused glint in his eyes never faded. "what are you talkin’ about?"

"you talked to him," you accused, poking his chest. "that’s why he didn’t show up. you made sure he wouldn’t take me out."

joel didn’t deny it. instead, a deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, his arm tightening around you.

"’course i did," he admitted, voice low and sure. "wasn’t gonna let you go with him."

you huffed, but the warmth in his tone, the way he held you so close, sent a shiver down your spine.

"thought you wanted me to," you mumbled against his skin.

joel smiled, his lips pressing into your hair. "nah, baby. just ain’t gonna let some boy think he can have what’s mine."

♡

[throatgoat4u]

breakfast

word count: 10k

summary: matt moves to la and ghosts you, breaking your heart, but when the opportunity arises, you decide to get your revenge

warnings: emotional abuse, psychological manipulation, gaslighting, toxic relationships, exploitation of vulnerability, heavy emotional distress

a/n: guys this might be a long read...... also this is for @bernardsbendystraws song writing challenge thingy. i'm actually shocked i was able to even write this cause like i'm lazy and procrastinate a lot and the fact that the challenge had a deadline too?!?! i'm amazed. i worked pretty hard on this one and i think this just might be one of my favorite things i've written. ps and by the way, i will be calling the reader cherry in this so that's what people will call her and what she introduces herself as! also one last detail, this doesn't happen in the span of like a few weeks or like 1-2 months, this story takes place in the span of like almost a year. so yeah... enjoy!

toodles sluts :)

matthew bernard sturniolo.

god, you couldn’t stand the man. but looking at him now, his life a complete mess, there was nothing sweeter. and the best part? it was all because of you.

four years ago, the two of you were in high school. you and matt had this sort of relationship where you did practically everything like a couple—going on dates, giving gifts, whispering sweet nothings to each other, cuddling, kissing, the pda, fucking—but you were never actually official. matt didn’t do labels until he was sure. and you, like the naive girl you were, went right along with it, telling him you’d wait until he was ready.

he had promised you the world, swore up and down that you were the only one who truly understood him. it’s you and me against the world, baby. one day, i’m gonna marry you, you know that? but they were all lies. lies, lies, lies. the only thing that high school failure was good at was lying—and making it sound so convincing. and you? you had been dumb enough to believe every word.

when you two graduated, he left for la to pursue youtube with his brothers, and naturally, he fed you more lies. baby, i’ll come visit you every few months. we’ll call and text every single day, i swear. i’d never leave you, you know that, right? i love you.

it still astonished you how easily those words had slipped from his lips, how effortlessly he could say them without meaning a damn thing. but the saddest part? you ate it all up like a starving man who hadn’t eaten in years. you believed every single word because—why wouldn’t you? he was the love of your life.

for a while after the move, you and matt stayed in touch, talking almost every second. ten-hour calls, facetime marathons, endless text messages—the works. but slowly, you noticed the shift. he started withdrawing, calling less, ending conversations quicker, taking longer to reply—or not replying at all. when he did, it was just to blow you off. i’m busy. shit, sorry, next time. and you bought it. of course you did. he had just moved to la, and being an influencer wasn’t easy. you gave him the benefit of the doubt.  that was—until he just stopped. he never replied. all calls and texts went unanswered. he had ghosted you.

you were left utterly broken. he had promised you so, so much. you two were supposed to spend the rest of your lives together. you were supposed to be endgame.

but the wallowing didn’t last long.

one day, you opened instagram to find a post—matt shamelessly making out with some girl at a party. a flood of emotions hit you all at once. sadness, confusion, hurt, betrayal. but most of all—anger.

how could you have been so blind? you gave him everything. your time, your trust, your heart. and he threw it all away like it was nothing.

you weren’t going to let it slide.

so you started planning.

now, four years later, you executed it perfectly. it wasn’t easy—oh no, it was tedious. every step had to work seamlessly for the next to fall into place. one wrong move and the entire plan would collapse.

and what plan exactly?

well, in theory, it was a very simple nine-phase plan. you didn’t even mean for the tenth phase to happen, but it did.

phase one: move to la

this was easy. you had finished college with a degree in fashion marketing, and job offers from la weren’t exactly uncommon. all you had to do was pick the highest-paying, most reputable one, and you were on your way.

you settled into the city faster than you expected. the air was thick with ambition, the streets buzzing with influencers and socialites desperate to be seen. it was a world fueled by image, where clout mattered more than character. and if you played your cards right, it was a world where you could thrive.

phase one: complete

phase two: befriend an influencer (preferably one with connections to matt, preferably tara yummy)

why tara yummy? simple. she threw some of the biggest parties in la, meaning tons of other influencers—some of whom could have connections to matt—would be there.

befriending tara? well, that was a process. you had to admit, you stooped to some pretty unethical and borderline pathetic measures to make it happen. and all for what? revenge on a boy. pathetic.

still, you stalked her obsessively, tracking where she would be and when. you knew her schedule for every day of the week—surprising, right? like, tara yummy having an actual schedule? technically, no. but she did go to the same coffee shop every day at exactly 12:43 p.m.

why 12:43? who the fuck cares? as long as you could follow her to her next location, you were fine with whatever time she picked for her little coffee rendezvous.

saturday, february 15, 12:42 p.m.

you were parked outside the coffee shop, drumming your fingers against the steering wheel, the hum of the engine filling the silence. your eyes flickered to the time on your phone.

what if she decided to go somewhere else today? what if something came up? had you picked the wrong day?

then, at exactly 12:44, you spotted her—rushing inside, her oversized sunglasses perched on her nose, phone in one hand, car keys in the other.

you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding, watching as she ordered her iced oat milk shaken espresso with one pump white mocha, one pump caramel, light cinnamon powder, and vanilla sweet cream cold foam. (don’t ask.)

when she finally got her coffee and walked out, you turned on your car, keeping an eye on her as she made her way back to hers. now, all that was left was to follow her—hopefully to somewhere public where "accidentally" running into her wouldn’t be suspicious.

you waited a few moments before pulling out behind her, keeping a safe distance—close enough to track her, but not close enough to look like you were tailing her.

she drove for about ten minutes before pulling into target’s parking lot.

your eyes lit up almost instantly. perfect.

you parked a few spots away on the opposite side, ensuring a clear view of her. watching carefully, you waited until she stepped out of her car and started toward the entrance before making your move.

inside, you immediately noticed—no basket.

an idea formed in your head.

you trailed behind her, watching as she browsed the aisles, picking up items—a blanket, a book, some makeup, shampoo, conditioner—until her hands were completely full. she stumbled a bit, dropping things occasionally.

this was it. your chance.

you turned down an aisle, walking toward her while she unknowingly walked in your direction. just as you neared her, you looked down at your phone—pretending not to see her—before crashing right into her.

her things tumbled to the floor, and you let your phone slip from your hands for added effect.

"oh my god! i-i’m so sorry, are you okay?" you asked, putting on the best fake concerned voice you could.

she looked up at you and smiled. "yeah, no, i’m okay. how about you?"

"i-i’m fine, don’t worry about me. i’m so, so sorry again. i should’ve been paying attention."

"hey, no, don’t be sorry. it wasn’t really your fault. hell, it wasn’t really either of our faults," she said, laughing as she bent down to pick up her stuff. but you beat her to it.

"no, here, let me get that for you," you said, gathering her things. as you handed them back, you put on a puzzled expression. "wait, you don’t have a basket?"

she shook her head, and you tsked softly before placing each item into yours.

"what are you—" she began, but you cut her off.

"no, it’s okay. i didn’t really have anything in my basket anyway. it’d probably be more useful to you," you said, handing it to her.

she smiled, taking it from you. "stop, thank you so much, you’re so sweet."

"no, stop. it’s really nothing, i don’t mind," you replied, playing it off casually. then, after a brief pause, you added, "oh, and by the way, you’re like… really, really pretty."

"o.m.g. shut up. like, actually. you’re too sweet," she giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"no, i’m dead serious. you’re gorgeous."

"well, you too. like, oh god, you look like one of those really hot girls i see who just seem so unapproachable and intimidating," she mused, eyeing you up and down.

"why, thank you," you replied with the kindest smile you could muster. "sorry if this interaction is kinda awkward… i’m new to la and sort of looking to make friends." you lowered your voice a little, trying to sound just the right amount of shy.

her eyes widened, and her mouth parted slightly. "well, consider me your first friend. i’m tara."

"…cherry," you responded.

"nice to meet you, cherry. c’mon. you’ll be walking with me now," she smiled, grabbing your hand and dragging you along.

phase two: complete.

phase three: get invited to a tara event

over the next few weeks, you spent most of your time with tara, considering she was your only friend.

you went shopping together, got your nails done, hit the gym, had spa days, and she even showed you all the best clubs and bars in la. the two of you really hit it off, and it kinda made you feel bad that you were using her. kinda.

wednesday, march 5, 2:54 pm

you and tara were sitting on her bed, planning out her next big party. but this party wasn’t just any party—it was for you. she wanted to throw an event so you could branch out and meet new people because, being a loner in la? yeah, no, you weren’t going to let that happen. especially not with your plan in motion. if you stayed invisible, everything would be ruined. matt would win, and you'd lose once again.

"so, um… tara… how big is this party going to be, exactly?" you asked, carefully faking a nervous tone as you sat cross-legged on her bed, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. you needed to convince her you were an introvert. playing that part would help you blend into the background and make it easier to focus on your real goal.

tara barely looked up from her phone, scrolling through pinterest, tapping on various pins as she pulled ideas for the event. “well, i’m inviting the usual crowd, so it won’t be too big,” she replied casually. “just enough to get the party vibes right.”

"right..." you sighed, casting a quick glance at the laptop screen, pretending to chew your lip nervously. your act was flawless, but the truth was, you weren’t anxious about being around people—you were just anxious about matt. you knew him all too well, and if he didn’t show up, everything would fall apart. matt was a big homebody, after all. if he didn’t come, you’d have a much harder time achieving your goal.

you needed to know exactly who matt would hang around at the party, and that meant focusing on his closest friends. it was a given that he'd stick close to his girlfriend, macy, but you had to make sure you pinpointed the others—the ones who would be your best shot at making things happen.

the two of you spent the rest of the day bouncing ideas around for the party. tara wanted to host it at her place, and you both decided on a theme—black, white, and a rich, dark red. it was bold, dramatic—something that would definitely make a statement.

tara had already invited a ton of people. for her, it was just another night to throw a party, another chance to be around her usual influencer crowd. but for you, this was more than just a party. this was the perfect opportunity to get closer to matt's friends and, eventually, get closer to matt himself—so you could finally tear him down.

“so, who all did you invite?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but your mind was already mentally listing off everyone who might be there.

tara smirked, eyes flicking up from her phone as she responded, “oh, you know, the usual bunch. larray, quen, carrington, jake, johnnie… some of the other la influencers. then, of course, there’s the triplets—matt, chris, and nick.”

you nodded along, your expression neutral, though internally, you were bracing yourself. you already knew the triplets, of course. but this party wasn’t about them. it was about the other people who would be there.

“that’s a lot of people,” you said, trying to keep your voice light, but your mind was already working overtime. “what’s the vibe like with everyone? how do they all mix?”

tara shrugged nonchalantly as she tapped away at her phone, her attention already shifting back to the planning. “honestly, they’re all chill. some can be a little extra—like, really extra—but nothing you can’t handle. you’ll fit right in. just make sure you make an entrance, you know?”

you gave her a knowing smile, nodding along, though your mind was elsewhere. you weren’t here to fit in. you were here to observe, to learn who matt’s closest friends were, to subtly insert yourself into their world. and then, you’d take him down. piece by piece, without him even realizing it.

this party was just the beginning.

phase three: complete

phase four: figure out just who’s in matt’s inner circle

you looked in the mirror as you fixed your hair, making sure everything was just right. the tight black dress hugged your hips in all the right places, the slit riding high enough to leave barely anything to the imagination. your hair was perfectly blown out, sleek and cascading down your back like silk. but still, something was missing.

your eyes landed on the red lipstick sitting on the vanity. you grabbed it, uncapping it with a flick of your wrist before carefully applying it to your lips. the deep, sultry shade coated them perfectly, adding just the right amount of boldness to complete the look.

perfect.

you pressed your lips together, ensuring the color was flawless. now, you were ready.

tara walked into the room, and her jaw practically hit the floor. her eyes widened as she took you in, her gaze trailing from your perfectly blown-out hair to the curve-hugging black dress and the deep red lipstick that added just the right amount of danger.

“oh my god.” her voice was barely above a whisper before it quickly turned into an excited squeal. “cherry, you look stunning! you might’ve just been my lesbian awakening because what the fuck?!?” she said, walking toward you with wide eyes.

you giggled, rolling your eyes as you turned slightly to check yourself in the mirror one last time. “oh, shut up,” you mumbled, but the slight flush on your cheeks betrayed you.

“no, no, i’m being dead serious.” she placed her hands on her hips, giving you an exaggerated once-over. “like, i cannot believe you’ve been hiding this version of you. you look gorgeous.”

“thanks, t,” you murmured softly, your lips tugging into a small, satisfied smile. but before you could revel in the compliment for too long, tara’s expression shifted.

“but,” she said, her tone a little more serious now, “i actually came up here to tell you a lot of people are here now. i know you’re not the party type, but… it’s your party. you need to come down.”

you almost laughed out loud at that. not the party type? oh, if only she knew. at least you’d done a good enough job convincing her that you were shy and reserved. it was all part of the plan.

“yeah, yeah, i know,” you mumbled, tugging your dress down ever so slightly, playing up the nervous act just a bit longer. “can… can you come with me? and maybe… stay with me? i don’t really want to be alone with so many people around.” your voice was soft, almost timid, as if the idea of walking into a crowded room made you anxious.

tara’s features softened instantly, her eyes filling with warmth as she gave you a reassuring smile. “of course i’ll stay with you,” she said, reaching out to squeeze your hand gently. “i won’t leave you alone for a single moment tonight, ‘kay?”

you nodded, offering her a small, grateful smile as you took a deep breath.

perfect.

you followed tara as she began to walk out of the room, her arm loosely linked with yours as the two of you made your way downstairs. the muffled bass of the music grew louder with each step, the sounds of laughter and conversation drifting through the hallway.

as you reached the bottom of the stairs, you scanned the room quickly, your mind already working.

the party was in full swing. influencers, tiktokers, and la’s finest were scattered everywhere, drinks in hand and smiles plastered on their faces.

but you weren’t interested in any of them.

your eyes swept the crowd, zeroing in on the people who mattered most. matt’s friends.

they weren’t hard to spot. matt—whenever he did decide to show up at events like these—always stuck close to the people he felt most comfortable with. usually, that meant nick, chris, and a couple of his closest friends. and tonight was no different.

one person caught your eye almost immediately. larray.

he was laughing, completely immersed in whatever conversation he was having. matt had never looked happier in a group of people and it was sort of like a stab to your heart but you quickly shook the feeling off, refocusing on the small group that surrounded matt. nick, chris, larray… and macy.

macy. matt’s new girlfriend.

the girl who had everything you ever wanted.

she was perched right beside him, her hand casually resting on his arm like it belonged there. she looked so comfortable, so secure in her place next to him. it made your stomach turn.

but not with sadness.

with determination.

there they were—laughing, chatting, blissfully unaware that they were about to become pawns in your little game.

but timing was everything.

you weren’t about to make your move too soon. not when there was so much at stake. so, for now, you waited.

you stuck close to tara, mingling with other guests and keeping up appearances. you laughed at jokes, smiled at compliments, and made small talk with influencers you barely cared about. to anyone watching, you looked like you were just another girl trying to blend into la’s social scene.

but your focus never strayed too far.

your eyes flicked back to matt’s group every chance you got, tracking their every move without being obvious.

nick and chris were in their usual spots, close to matt but engaged in their own conversations. larray was his usual vibrant self, effortlessly making everyone around him laugh. and macy… well, she was glued to matt’s side, just as expected.

you kept waiting, biding your time as the night dragged on.

and then, finally, it happened.

matt, nick, and chris stepped away, heading toward the backyard—probably to get some air or escape the chaos for a moment.

perfect.

your heart pounded in your chest as you took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“tara,” you murmured softly, leaning closer so only she could hear, ��i’m gonna go grab another drink. be right back.”

“want me to come with?” she asked, her eyes flickering toward the crowded bar area.

“nah,” you smiled, shaking your head. “i’ll be fine.”

she nodded, giving you an encouraging smile before turning back to her conversation.

and with that, you made your move.

your eyes locked onto larray, who was still standing near the bar, chatting and laughing with a few other people.

game on.

you made your way to the bar, grabbing some random drink that had been left unattended, and started to move toward larray. you made sure to stumble a bit, really selling the whole oops, i’m tipsy act. when you were close enough, you “tripped,” falling forward and spilling your drink all over him.

“shit. my bad. i didn’t mean to do that. i’m so sorry. are you alright?” you asked frantically, eyes darting around for anything to help. you spotted a napkin nearby and quickly handed it to him.

“yeah, i’m okay. chill, girl, damn!” he said, laughing it off as he wiped the drink off his shirt, giving you a playful side-eye.

“gosh, i’m sorry. i might be a little more drunk than i thought. i usually don’t trip over my feet like this,” you mumbled, shifting nervously.

“bitch, it’s okay. i promise, it’s not that deep. my clothes will dry.”

“yeah, i know. but i still feel bad.”

“well, don’t.” he waved you off, flashing you that bright, easy smile. “anyways, i’ve never seen you ‘round. you new here or what?”

“uh, yeah. i moved to la about a month ago for my job.”

he hummed, grabbing his drink off the table and taking a sip. “what do you do?”

“i actually work in fashion marketing.”

his eyes widened instantly, his interest clearly piqued. “wait, so like… do you get all the tea on the brands? tell me everything.”

you giggled softly, shaking your head. “sadly, not yet. i just started. but, trust me, you’ll be the first to know when they let me in on all the juicy shit.”

“you better.” he gave you a pointed look, but his grin was playful.

“cross my heart.” you smirked, making a little x over your chest.

“mm, i like you already.” he gave you a wink before glancing around the room. “but, babe, why are you stuck talking to me when there’s a whole party happening?”

“honestly?” you shrugged, flashing him a sheepish smile. “you’re the most interesting person here.”

“aww, stop it, i’m blushing.” he fanned himself dramatically, making you laugh.

“seriously, though,” he leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice, “stick with me tonight, and i’ll make sure you have fun.”

perfect.

throughout the entire night, you stayed glued to larray’s side. he was the perfect guide to la’s influencer scene, introducing you to a lot of people—some of whom you already recognized from social media. but your focus wasn’t on them.

no, your interest was piqued when he introduced you to madison and quen.

it quickly became clear to you that they were probably the closest people to matt—along with larray.

you watched closely, noting the way they spoke about him, the way they laughed at inside jokes that only came from years of friendship. it was subtle, but the familiarity was there.

these were the people who mattered.

and they were exactly who you needed to get close to next.

you slipped seamlessly into conversation with them, playing up the charm and matching their energy effortlessly. it was easy, really—madison was sweet and warm, and quen? well, she was sharp, funny, and didn’t seem to take shit from anyone.

by the end of the night, you weren’t just some random girl who just moved to la. no, you were now on their radar.

the party came to a wrap and as you exchanged goodbyes and promises to hang out soon, you couldn’t help but smirk to yourself.

they had no idea what was coming.

phase four: complete.

phase five: get close to macy

you realized at the party that it wouldn’t have been a good idea to try and talk to macy because she didn’t leave matt’s side once, and matt would’ve immediately recognized you if he had seen you, which would’ve completely jeopardized the plan.

see, the thing is, macy is a model, and your agency just so happened to be looking for some new faces. after the party, you made sure to keep macy in the back of your mind because you knew it was only a matter of time before you’d be working with her in person. it wasn’t long before you got the chance—both of you were assigned to the same photoshoot for a big brand that the agency was promoting.

the first time you saw her in person, she was a lot quieter than you expected. maybe it was because she was surrounded by other models and people she worked with, but she didn’t seem nearly as outgoing as she came off on social media. you had no intention of just jumping in to get to know her right away, but you did make sure to get in a few casual hellos and comments about how excited you were to be working with her.

the shoot itself was long, and there were a lot of down moments while the crew set up shots or adjusted lighting, which gave you plenty of time to talk. you started by talking about the job itself—what it was like working with the agency, the constant hustle, and how draining it all could be. at first, macy wasn’t very open, giving you short answers, but you could tell she was warming up.

after a few hours of talking about everything from the industry to personal stuff, you noticed she seemed a little more relaxed around you. when the crew took a break, you casually offered to grab coffee with her, making sure it didn’t seem like you were trying too hard. macy agreed, and the two of you grabbed a quick coffee from a nearby shop.

over the next few weeks, you found more opportunities to work together, whether it was at another photoshoot or event. each time, you made sure to keep the conversation going, offering small, relatable advice about the industry and connecting on more personal levels. she started confiding in you more—about the pressure to maintain a certain image, the loneliness that came with constantly being on the go, and how hard it was to find genuine friends in a world full of fake ones.

you didn’t push her. you just listened, offering support when needed and being someone she could trust. eventually, she started to reach out to you first, asking for your opinion on various things, and you could tell she was beginning to see you as a friend, not just another coworker.

the real turning point came when the agency booked you both for a big event. during the event, things were relaxed enough that you had a chance to talk one-on-one. this was when you dropped the suggestion—about how your agency had been looking for fresh faces for future campaigns and how they were always interested in bringing in new talent. it was subtle, but effective. macy took the bait, and the next time you talked, she mentioned she’d been thinking about it and was considering taking the next step.

the seed had been planted. you’d gotten closer to her, built the trust, and now you had her in the perfect position. it wasn’t long before macy was fully onboard with the agency's next big campaign, and just like that, your plan was moving forward.

things were falling into place—slowly, but surely.

phase five: complete.

phase six: start spreading the rumors

now that you were getting closer to macy, madison, and quen, it was time to move to phase six of the plan: spreading rumors. subtle, harmless ones at first, ones that wouldn’t immediately seem like an attack, but that would eventually create tension in matt’s friend group. you knew matt’s friends well enough to know that they would start questioning his actions if the right things were said at the right time.

you decided to start with larray. after all, he was the easiest to get to. you’d spent a good amount of time with him, and he was an open book—always down to gossip and willing to listen. it didn’t take much for you to casually bring up the fact that you’d heard a little something about matt during one of your late-night conversations.

“so, like, i don’t know if i’m the only one who’s noticed, but…” you’d start, lowering your voice, like you were sharing some kind of secret. larray, always keen on gossip, would immediately lean in.

“what? spill it,” he’d say, raising an eyebrow.

you’d shake your head, pretending to hesitate. “it’s probably nothing, but i’ve been hearing stuff about matt… like, he’s been kinda distant lately. i don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but i heard he was kinda flaky at the last couple of events. like, not showing up or leaving early.”

larray’s expression would shift slightly, as though he was mulling it over, but he wouldn’t say much at first. you could tell he was processing the information. the next time he was hanging out with matt and the crew, he’d likely file that tidbit away in the back of his mind.

from there, you’d move on to madison. she was always more perceptive, more cautious about things, but you were good at working your way into people’s trust. one day, as you sat together, sipping your drinks, you’d casually bring up something you’d overheard.

“you know, i’ve noticed matt’s been kinda off lately. like, i don’t know if it’s just me, but he seems different. like, more withdrawn? you know, i’ve been hearing that he’s been talking behind people’s backs about his friends.”

madison would pause, taking a sip from her own drink, but her eyes would narrow just a little. “seriously? that doesn’t sound like him,” she’d say. “who’s he been talking about?”

“i mean, i don’t know if it’s about any one person specifically, but i’ve heard him say stuff about the larray before. not, like, bad stuff, but, like, you know, a little judgmental. he’s always got something to say when he’s not around, which is kinda weird, right?”

madison would probably just shrug it off at first, but you'd know that this type of gossip would linger in the back of her mind, especially when she started noticing the little things that seemed off in matt’s behavior.

last but not least, you’d work on quen. she was sharp, observant, and you knew that getting her to trust you enough to believe what you were saying would be a challenge. but you were up for it. your approach would be a little more direct with her.

one afternoon, you’d be hanging out, and you’d make sure to mention something that would start getting her wheels turning.

“i don’t know if you’ve noticed, but matt’s been acting really off lately. like, he’s not as, i don’t know, present? when he’s around the group, it’s like he’s just not… engaged. he’s distant. i heard him say some weird stuff about how he feels like he’s outgrown a lot of the people around him.”

quen would furrow her brows, not immediately responding. “outgrown? huh. that’s… odd. i mean, he’s always been the one trying to keep everyone together.”

“right? and now he’s just, like, pulling away. it’s strange. especially with how close he used to be with everyone.” you’d pause and look at her, as if genuinely concerned, adding, “maybe i’m reading too much into it, but it’s not just me noticing.”

quen would likely stay quiet for a moment, processing it, but deep down, she’d start to think about it. the next time she was with matt, she'd start paying more attention to the way he interacted with the group. the little things would start to show.

with each of them—larray, madison, and quen—you carefully planted just enough doubt to make them start second-guessing matt’s intentions, his loyalty, and his true feelings toward his friends. nothing too drastic at first, just small seeds of uncertainty. but soon enough, the tension would begin to rise. they’d start noticing what they hadn’t before.

and once they did, it would only be a matter of time before matt’s world began to shift.

you let the information sit with them for a while before starting to up the stakes—making the rumors a bit more… compromising.

“girl, don’t even get me started. i heard matt’s been real weird lately,” you say casually, swirling the straw in your drink as you sit next to larray. it’s subtle, but you know exactly what you’re doing.

“uh-uh, hold up.” larray’s eyes widen as he sets his drink down, giving you that signature side-eye. “what do you mean weird? like… weird weird or just matt-being-a-man weird? ‘cause you know these men don’t know how to act.”

you let out a small, dramatic sigh, playing it off like you don’t want to say too much. “i mean… i don’t know, it’s probably nothing. just heard he’s been kinda distant with macy lately. you didn’t notice?”

“not you trying to soft launch tea and then leaving me hanging,” larray gasps, placing a hand on his chest. “spill, bitch. don’t play with me like that.”

“nooo, it’s not that serious!” you laugh, shaking your head. “just… i saw him the other day and he barely acknowledged her. like, he was all up on his phone the whole time. it was just… weird.”

“not him treating macy like she’s on do not disturb,” larray snorts, rolling his eyes dramatically. “ugh, men are so exhausting. they can’t even pretend to care when they’re in public. disgusting.”

you shrug, acting nonchalant, but you know his perception of matt was changing.

onto madison

one night, when you and madison were grabbing drinks after work, you casually brought up matt’s name again, this time in a more pointed way.

“you know, i think i’ve been seeing something with matt,” you’d say, your voice almost too casual, too innocent. “well, not me personally, but macy has been telling me all these things about how matt’s being all secretive with her and stuff. like recently, that’s been our whole topic of conversation while we’re at work. she tells me he’s on his phone more often and how he’s always so dismissive of her questions when she asks him why he’s been distant lately. i don’t know ‘bout you, but it sounds like to me that he might be seeing someone on the sid

madison frowned, clearly uncomfortable. “seriously? that doesn’t sound like him at all.”

you’d nod, looking concerned. “yeah, i don’t know, but it’s been bugging me. i mean, macy doesn’t deserve that. and maybe he isn’t cheating. but why is he still being weird towards her.”

“yeah no, that’s really fucked up.” madison says, feeling a little sad for macy

“i know i shouldn’t be telling macy’s business like that but it was gnawing at me. and what’s worse is that macy doesn’t even consider that he could possibly be cheating on her. like i don’t know. i just- do you promise not to tell anyone?” you ask, trying your best to sound like you’ve been overcome with guilt.

madison nods, giving you a soft smile. “baby, of course i won’t tell anyone. secrets safe with me. in the end, these could all be rumors and a shit ton of overthinking so i wouldn’t really jump to conclusions but i’d definitely keep it in the back of my mind.”

you nod, returning the smile. “thanks. you’re a really good friend.”

“anytime”

you’d pulled off larray and madison, now all you had left for this round of rumors was quen.

after one evening, when you and quen were hanging out after work, you casually said, “have you noticed something with matt?”

quen raised an eyebrow. “what do you mean?”

“i don’t know, it’s just… i’ve noticed that matt is just… different. but like only with one person.”

her eyebrows furrowed in curiosity as she tilted her head slightly. “who?”

“macy.” you said carefully, like her name was some sort of taboo subject. “it’s weird. he’s like a whole different person when she’s not around. like i feel like he’s more of himself when he’s away from her. when she comes around though, he gets all agitated and annoyed. i might be reading into shit but like… i don’t know.”

quen scoffed, but there was a slight hesitation in her voice. “that sounds like some weird shit, honestly.”

“yeah, i mean, it’s not like macy hasn’t caught on either,” you’d say. “she has! but she’s kinda brushing it off, choosing to ignore it. i just feel like she’s making excuses for him. god i just- i feel bad.”

“well who wouldn’t? like no one should treat their girlfriend like she’s trapping them.”

“yeah no, it’s bad. could you like… not mention this to her. she just- she gets all defensive and mad and she’ll probably realize i told you and i’m not trying to be messy i just needed to get this off my chest and stuff.”

“girl i gotchu. don’t worry.”

“thanks.” you mumble.

now it was time for the even bigger ones. the rumors that would really leave them questioning matt.

you sat beside larray, pretending to scroll through your phone as if what you were about to say was nothing. casual. just another piece of gossip in la.

“okay, so tell me why macy was saying matt’s been so busy with filming and working yesterday’s problem lately,” you murmured, keeping your tone light but just loud enough for larray to catch it.

larray raised an eyebrow, already intrigued. “mmm, okay… and?”

you sighed dramatically, like you didn’t want to be messy but just had to spill. “and… quen told me she saw him at a bar the other night.” you paused for effect, giving larray a pointed look. “like… not the filimg. not working on his project. a bar.”

larray’s eyes widened, lips parting slightly. “bitch, what?!” he blinked, processing the information before shaking his head. “oh no. not this man lying through his motherfucking teeth and playing her in her face.”

“right?” you scoffed, biting your lip to hide the satisfied smirk threatening to form. “i mean, maybe there’s a good explanation, but… doesn’t it seem kinda weird?”

larray leaned back, crossing his arms, and gave you a look. “girl, ain’t no way. if my man told me he was working but was out getting going to bars n shit? he’d be single faster than he could even say single.”

“i knowwww,” you drawled, shaking your head, “but macy doesn’t suspect a thing.”

larray sucked his teeth, already mentally adding this to his list of things to bring up later. “ugh, these men. always something. i swear.”

you nodded, pretending to be concerned, but deep down, you knew this was exactly what you needed.

a few days after your conversation with larray, you decided that you’d get madison again. you and madison found yourselves grabbing drinks again, just like before. but this time? you came prepared even more.

“so… remember what i told you about matt last time?” you started, swirling your straw around in your drink, eyes carefully avoiding madison’s as if you were hesitant to even bring it up.

madison’s expression shifted, her brows furrowing slightly. “yeah… what about it?”

you bit your lip, leaning in a little closer like you were about to spill something big. “okay, so… i wasn’t gonna say anything ‘cause i didn’t wanna let macy’s business out into the open again, but… i’ve got more shit on that situation.”

madison’s eyes widened slightly. “girl, what happened?”

you sighed, feigning reluctance, but you wanted this. “so, macy mentioned something again the other day. she said matt’s been going out more—late nights, no explanation, just saying it’s ‘work stuff.’ but like… get this. when she asked him about it, he got defensive. like, super weird.”

madison’s frown deepened, concern flickering across her face. “defensive? over what though?”

“exactly!” you leaned back, arms crossed as if you were just as confused. “like, why get all worked up if you’ve got nothing to hide? and… i don’t know, macy mentioned she checked his location once and he wasn’t even where he said he’d be. she brushed it off, but…” you trailed off, letting the weight of your words hang between you.

madison’s lips pressed into a thin line. “no… that’s shady as hell. if he’s lying about where he’s at?” she shook her head. “girl, that’s not a good sign.”

“right?” you gave her a look that said you get it. “i mean, maybe it’s nothing… but macy’s too trusting. she doesn’t wanna believe he’d do anything like that. but…” you paused, lowering your voice slightly, “what if he is?”

madison’s jaw tightened, her protective instincts clearly kicking in. “ugh, poor macy. i hate that she’s going through this.”

you nodded, your expression perfectly laced with fake concern. “same. that’s why i told you… i didn’t wanna keep it bottled up. but, you know, i just… i feel bad keeping it all to myself.”

“no, no,” madison said softly, shaking her head. “i’m glad you told me. i’ll… i’ll keep an eye on things.”

after that night, things started falling into place exactly how you wanted.  

a week or so later, you and quen were hanging out again, this time lounging at her apartment after a long day. casual vibes, just the two of you unwinding, but your mind? it was working overtime.  

you waited until the conversation lulled, until the timing felt just right before you spoke up, your tone light but laced with just enough concern to hook her.  

“so… remember what i told you about matt and macy the other day?” you said, fiddling absentmindedly with your phone like it wasn’t that big of a deal.  

quen glanced over, her interest piqued immediately. “uh, yeah. why? what’s up?”  

you sighed, leaning back against the couch like this was weighing heavy on you. “ugh… i wasn’t gonna say anything else, but i’ve been noticing it *a lot* more now. like, girl… it’s bad.”  

quen’s brows furrowed, her attention fully locked in now. “how bad are we talking?”  

“like… okay, so macy told me that matt’s been avoiding spending too much time with her lately,” you started, keeping your voice low and almost hesitant, like you were scared of even saying it. “she says he’s been making excuses. work, friends, whatever. but get this…” you paused for dramatic effect, watching quen lean in a little closer. “the other day? she said they were supposed to hang out, but matt bailed last minute, saying he had something with the boys. but… quen…” you bit your lip, looking conflicted.  

“what?” quen pressed, her eyes narrowing slightly.  

“one of my friends saw him that night. and he wasn’t with nick or chris,” you said, lowering your voice. “he was *with another girl.*”  

quen’s jaw dropped, her expression flipping from curiosity to full-blown disbelief. “*bitch, what?!*”  

“i know,” you murmured, shaking your head like you hated even saying it. “i didn’t believe it at first either. but then i heard it from *two* people. like… what the fuck is going on?”  

quen sat up straighter, her lips pursed in frustration. “nah, that’s wild. and macy doesn’t know?”  

“nope,” you said softly, shaking your head. “and i don’t know if i should be the one to tell her. i mean, she’s already brushing off so much. she’d probably just think i’m stirring shit.”  

quen’s face hardened, her protective side flaring up. “that’s some *bullshit.* she deserves to know if matt’s acting shady like that.”  

“i know,” you sighed, looking down, feigning conflict. “but… i don’t wanna be the one to ruin things, you know? i just… i don’t know what to do.”  

quen shook her head, clearly irritated now. “girl, don’t worry. i’ll keep an eye on him. if he’s up to something shady, we’ll know.”  

you gave her a small, grateful smile, nodding. “thanks, quen. i just… i needed to tell someone. this whole thing’s been eating at me.”  

“don’t worry,” quen said firmly, her tone serious. “if that boy’s up to something, he won’t be able to hide it for long.”  

and just like that, the wheels were turning. quen was on high alert now, watching matt like a hawk. you didn’t even have to do anything more—she’d handle the rest.  

phase six: complete

phase seven: introduce macy to the matt treatment

phase seven was the hardest part.

everything up until now had been about laying the groundwork, planting little doubts in everyone’s minds. but this? this was about making macy feel something that wasn’t even real.

the thing is, matt was a great boyfriend. he wasn’t distant, he wasn’t sneaky, and he wasn’t out here treating macy the way he treated you. and that was the problem.

because if macy never felt the way you felt—if she never experienced the gut-wrenching, soul-crushing matt treatment—then she’d never leave him.

and that? that wasn’t part of the plan.

so, you had to get creative.

step one: distance. but not from matt—from macy’s side of things.

it started small.

“girl, why don’t you ever come out with us anymore?” quen had asked her one night after work, and you made sure you were just within earshot.

macy had laughed it off. “ugh, i know. matt and i have just been spending so much time together lately.”

“damn, glued to his hip, huh?” quen had joked, but the seed had been planted.

and you? you watered it.

“you know,” you said softly the next day, when it was just you and macy grabbing coffee, “it’s great that you and matt are so close, but… don’t you miss having time for yourself sometimes?”

macy frowned a little but shrugged. “not really. i like being with him.”

“of course,” you smiled, keeping your tone light. “but… i don’t know. sometimes too much time together can make things feel… suffocating, y’know? like, matt’s great, but maybe a little space wouldn’t hurt?”

she didn’t agree. not yet. but that’s the thing about seeds—they take time to grow.

step two: fake tension.

if matt wasn’t going to create the tension, you’d have to do it for him.

“ugh,” macy groaned one afternoon while scrolling through her phone. “matt’s been so stressed with everything lately.”

you leaned in, feigning concern. “what’s wrong?”

“just the usual… filming, editing, meetings… he’s been overwhelmed.”

you nodded, playing your part perfectly. “yeah… that’s a lot. has he been… different with you because of it?”

macy’s face scrunched up a bit, her mind already working through a scenario that didn’t exist.

“different how?”

“i don’t know,” you shrugged, keeping it vague on purpose. “sometimes guys get quiet when they’re stressed. pull away a little. they don’t even realize they’re doing it half the time.”

she didn’t say anything after that. but her silence? that was exactly what you wanted.

step three: paranoia.

this was where things got tricky. you had to be subtle, careful not to overplay your hand.

“hey, have you noticed matt texting more lately?” you asked casually one evening, like it was just a passing thought.

macy blinked, looking up from her drink. “huh?”

“oh, nothing,” you waved it off with a smile. “i just… i don’t know. when we were out the other night, i noticed he was on his phone a lot. but it’s probably nothing.”

but it was never nothing.

because now? macy’s mind was already spiraling.

and it worked.

little by little, macy started to feel the things you had felt.

the distance.

the doubt.

the sinking feeling in her gut that something wasn’t quite right, even though matt was still being the same perfect boyfriend he had always been.

but to macy? it wouldn’t feel that way anymore.

because now?

everything felt off.

phase seven: complete.

phase eight: start encouraging macy to break up with matt

phase eight was all about patience.

you knew macy wasn’t ready to let go just yet. she was still holding on, hoping things would get better with matt—even after all the doubts you’d planted.

but that was fine.

because this wasn’t a sprint. it was a marathon.

so you kept playing your part.

you spent more time with her, slowly becoming her confidant.

hangout one: thursday, july 17th, 12:14 pm

another brunch.

macy looked exhausted, her smile just a little less bright than usual.

“you okay?” you asked, keeping your tone light but concerned.

she gave a small shrug, stirring her coffee absentmindedly. “yeah… just tired, i guess.”

you let it go. didn’t push. just offered a soft smile and changed the subject to something easy.

hangout two: wednesday, july 30th, 11:37 pm

a late-night target run.

the conversation was effortless, jumping from one topic to another.

“ugh, i swear, i’m gonna end up living off frozen pizza and sour candy,” you joked, tossing a bag into the cart.

macy laughed, but her response was softer, almost distracted. “at least you know what you like.”

it was nothing. just a passing comment.

hangout three: friday, august 22nd, 10:43 pm

movie night at her place.

you both sat curled up on the couch, the glow of the tv flickering across the room.

“thanks for coming over,” macy murmured, almost too quietly to catch.

“of course,” you said softly, not making a big deal of it.

she didn’t say anything else.

but the way her shoulders relaxed just a little more as the night went on?

that wasn’t nothing.

but none of it stood out.

no lingering looks. no obvious smiles. no heavy silences.

just… a quiet comfort.

she started replying to your texts a little faster.

her invitations to hang out came a little more frequently.

and maybe—maybe—she seemed a little more at ease when it was just the two of you.

but it was subtle.

so subtle that even you didn’t catch it.

because phase eight wasn’t about that.

phase eight was about planting doubt.

and that?

that was working perfectly.

phase eight: complete

phase nine: watch as matt’s life falls apart completely

and this all brings us back to now.

matthew bernard sturniolo.

god, you couldn’t stand the man. but looking at him now—his life a complete mess—there was nothing sweeter. and the best part?

it was all because of you.

his friends had all turned their backs on him. larray, madison, quen—they didn’t look at him the same anymore. the doubt you’d planted in their minds had festered, grown, and twisted everything they once believed about matt.

larray? couldn’t trust matt after the whole “bar incident.” he’d barely speak to him now. anytime matt tried to reach out, larray would leave him on read or reply with some dry-ass response that made it painfully obvious he wasn’t interested. and when he did talk to him?

“girl, i’m busy. find someone else to lie to.”

madison? she kept her distance. she hadn’t confronted matt directly, but you could tell she was piecing everything together. the seeds of doubt you’d planted had bloomed beautifully, and now she didn’t even look at matt the same.

quen? she was the most direct.

“nah, matt,” she had said the last time he tried talking to her. “i don’t fuck with that weird shit. you’re different.”

and then there was macy.

sweet, sweet macy.

she had been the hardest to break. her love for matt was deep—genuine. it took time to unravel that.

but you did it.

every rumor. every carefully crafted conversation. every doubt you whispered in her ear.

it all led to this moment.

she had finally broken up with him.

you weren’t there to see it, but you could imagine how it went down. the tears in her eyes, her voice breaking as she confronted him.

“i just… i can’t do this anymore, matt.”

and matt?

probably standing there, dumbfounded, begging her to believe that none of it was true.

but it was too late.

you had made sure of that.

now, matt was left standing in the wreckage of his own life.

his friends? gone. his relationship? over. his reputation? in shambles.

and he had no idea who was pulling the strings.

you stood on the sidelines, watching it all crumble, a satisfied smirk tugging at your lips.

all that heartbreak? all that pain?

now, it was his turn to feel it.

and the best part?

he never even saw it coming.

but it wasn’t enough.

watching matt’s life fall apart had been… satisfying. no doubt. but it still didn’t give you the closure you needed. not yet.

because he still didn’t know.

and what fun would it be if he never found out?

no, matt needed to see you—face to face. he needed to look you in the eyes and realize who was behind it all. he needed to feel the weight of everything crashing down around him and know that it was your doing.

you needed that moment.

and as fate would have it, that moment was just around the corner.

macy had left something at matt’s place. she didn’t want to go back for it herself—too painful, too fresh—so, naturally, she asked you to grab it for her.

at first, you weren’t sure if it was a good idea. walking back into his space? after everything? but then, you realized…

this was your chance.

you’d have matt all to yourself. no macy. no friends. just you and him.

so, here you were. standing outside his apartment, heart pounding, pulse racing.

you knocked.

once.

twice.

the door swung open faster than you expected, and there he was.

matthew bernard sturniolo.

and he looked like shit.

dark circles under his eyes, hair a mess, his expression was… tired. broken.

“cherry?” his voice was barely above a whisper, pure disbelief written all over his face.

you felt a sick sort of satisfaction bloom in your chest.

“matthew. it’s been a while. how’ve you been lately?” you asked, an almost sadistic smirk tugging at your lips.

he blinked, eyes wide, like he was seeing a ghost. “i-i… wha-what are you doing here?” his voice was barely above a whisper, shaky and unsure.

you tilted your head, feigning innocence. “you really haven’t figured that out yet?” your hand rested on your hip, your tone dripping with impatience. all this hard work, months of planning, and the boy didn’t even have a damn clue. how rude.

but what was even more insulting? the way this idiot had the nerve to shake his head. “n-no.”

wow.

“ugh, you’re as stupid as ever,” you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “it was me, goddamn it. i did it. i’m the reason your sad, pathetic life is crumbling to pieces.”

the color drained from his face, eyes widening—not with confusion this time, but pure, unfiltered terror.

“why… why would you do something like that?” he asked, his voice barely holding together.

you rolled your eyes, a bitter laugh slipping out. “god, are you stupid?” your tone dripped with disdain. “you really don’t remember?”

his silence was answer enough.

“jesus christ, matt,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “four years. four fucking years, and you can’t even remember the shit you put me through?”

his lips parted, but no words came out.

“let me refresh your memory then.” you stepped closer, just enough to watch the panic build behind his eyes. “remember high school? how we did everything like a couple but you never wanted to put a label on it? all that ‘i’m not ready for a relationship yet’ bullshit? and me? i was so fucking stupid, i waited. i waited for you.”

matt’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak.

“but it didn’t stop there, did it?” you went on, voice dripping with venom. “no, you kept feeding me lies. you’re the only one who gets me, baby. one day, i’m gonna marry you, you know that?” you scoffed, eyes narrowing. “and like an idiot, i believed it. i believed you.”

his breathing was heavier now, chest rising and falling a little too quickly.

“then you left,” you hissed, your tone colder now. “moved to la. promised we’d make it work, that we’d talk every day, visit whenever we could.” you let out a bitter laugh. “but those calls? they got shorter. the texts? less frequent. until, eventually…” you paused, your gaze hardening as you locked eyes with him.

“you ghosted me.”

his face paled even more, if that was even possible.

“left me wondering what the fuck i did wrong. wondering why i wasn’t enough for you,” your voice cracked, but you swallowed the emotion down, refusing to let him see you break. “and just when i finally started to accept that maybe you weren’t coming back…” you tilted your head, a cruel smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“i saw the pictures.”

matt’s breath caught in his throat.

“you. at that party. all over her.” the venom in your voice was impossible to miss. “while i was sitting at home, waiting for a text you were never going to send.”

matt opened his mouth, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“and that’s when i realized,” you said, leaning in just enough for your words to cut deeper. “i was never going to be enough for you. but that’s okay. because now?”

you smiled sweetly, though your eyes were anything but kind.

“you’re the one who’s left with nothing.”

you stood there, staring at him for a few seconds, letting the weight of your words sink in. you could see the way he was struggling to process it, the panic mixed with guilt. but it wasn’t your problem anymore. you had done what you came for, and that was all that mattered.

you let out a deep breath, shaking your head in disbelief.

“god, matt,” you muttered, the contempt thick in your voice. “you really are the worst.”

you turned your back on him, hearing him call your name weakly, but you didn’t stop.

"you're nothing but a liar and a coward," you threw over your shoulder. "so enjoy the mess you made. you deserve every bit of it."

without looking back, you walked towards your car, your heart pounding, but not from anger—no, from a strange kind of satisfaction. for the first time in years, it felt like everything was finally in place. like all the puzzle pieces had clicked together, and you had everything you needed.

you slid into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut. you could still hear him shouting your name, but it didn’t matter anymore. his voice was nothing now.

you put the car in drive, the engine rumbling to life, and slowly pulled away from the curb.

as you made your way home, your mind wandered back to macy.

phase ten

you couldn’t help but smile, the anticipation building. it had been a slow burn, but now, things had shifted in ways you hadn’t even expected. what started as a plan to destroy matt had turned into something much more unexpected. you had gotten under his skin—and now, macy’s too.

the thought of macy, her soft lips against yours, the way she started leaning into you more and more, her touch lingering a little longer than it should’ve—none of it had been planned. but here you were, with a beautiful, broken mess of a boyfriend’s ex, and she was yours now.

you smiled to yourself as you sped down the road, your thoughts consuming you.

phase ten: ravish your new girlfriend's body completely.

and just like that, the plan was over. the game had changed. you didn’t need revenge anymore—you had her.

dividers: @bernardsbendystraws

© throatgoat4u

[mythtakens]

sorry I’m back with another block of text. the thing where people think that 911 the firefighter procedural show on ABC made a main character (Buck) bi after 7 seasons (yay forever seriously) and 6 of getting shipped with another main character (Eddie) who is his best friend like big time. fully knowing that but just for absolutely no reason related to that. which certainly it does not have to be! Buck exists in his own right as a developed character. except that seeing how he is a fictional character in a story where he interacts with other fictional characters it does seem somewhat odd they then also made no effort to make their dynamic more normal whatsoever to dissuade anyone from this. and instead somehow made their peas in a pod thing worse and weirder and involved Eddie heavily in the entire arc quite literally including in the circumstances for the beginning and end of Buck’s romantic relationship with another guy. and again, instead of writing Buck a well developed romance (like the rest of the characters have and like Buck has every right to especially this far into the show) with this guy, which even these same people who want it to be endgame complain about and are forced to fill in so many of the gaps for. they think the show decided to simply not do that. and have Eddie either present or mentioned in nearly every scene they had for. no reason? baiting? all so that 12 episodes (I think 7 episodes if you are only counting ones they were in) after they kissed this guy could break up with Buck to… “start a slowburn will they won’t they”? and 5 episodes after that in the natural progression of a slowburn 🤨 they could bring the guy back and have him immediately suggest Eddie is his competition for Buck’s affections and imply that’s why he broke up with him in the first place and also imply Eddie isn’t straight, making it the second time this season Eddie’s sexuality has come up 7 seasons into his being on the show, but all of this for allegedly no positive reason. and putting a spotlight on the idea that Buck and Eddie could be romantic for people who were not even thinking about it before was to… umm to tell them NOT to. I didn’t even mention all of these characters involved are insane and Buck moved into Eddie’s house while he’s gone in Texas and this particular conversation was happening in said house. and they got rid of the set Buck had been living in since season 2. but anyway they think all this happened so that the show could.. once and for all… shut down.. the concept of romantic buddie. and those that really wanted that to happen are gleefully celebrating it. idk man you can do and ship whatever you want and it certainly doesn’t have to be this but. well. I want to put this as gently and kindly as I can but admittedly I am kind of a bitch so: I just don’t think being willfully obtuse is gonna count as being blindsided two times in a row

[glitch-but-ya]

You write fanfiction— The LADs men

A/N: Just a filler post. It’s kinda annoying to work on two fics where both readers have vastly different personalities. I keep mixing them up so I just gave up and stuck to working on the Caleb fic first. But, good news is, the fic is almost done! I’m at the last act :3

Xavier:

- Your work is one of the few pieces of writing he doesn’t fall asleep while reading.

- No matter how sleepy he was prior to this, he would be wide awake, pondering each poetic sentence and dissecting meanings behind them.

- Would pay attention to every little detail hidden in your work, even when it’s something most overlook.

- Asks you about your recent fanfics when he sees you.

- If you write smut, he probably eats it up like a freak and tries to pick up on the things you desire.

- Your biggest fan. Has a dedicated account (main or alt) to just liking and reblogging your work. Whatever you post. Even if it’s just a casual post or answering a fan’s questions.

- Probably compliments your work in the tags.

- Has multiple accounts just to like your work. Also has a secret account where he argues tooth and nail with every hater you encounter.

- Bonus: Would secretly be jealous of the characters you admire a bit too much.

Rafayel:

- The proudest man on earth.

- Literally. He considers writing (even trivial things like fanfiction) a form of art so he is genuinely so happy you’re an artist like him.

- Would bombard you with random new fanfiction ideas.

- If you write for a new fandom, he would search it up and watch/read it the same day.

- If you include poetic things into your writing, he would bring it up in a conversation and hold discussions on it, offering his thoughts and opinions and helping you both learn.

- Would be more chill than Xavier, but he’d definitely be pouty if you favour a character too much.

- Leaves dramatic comments. Like, “HOW DARE HE >:O” and such. His comments never fail to hype you up.

- PUBLICLY argues with your haters.

- Treasures your work as if it was the finest piece of literature ever penned. Wouldn’t be surprised if he rewrites it on a canvas with ink and frames it on his wall.

- Bonus: Secretly is the one making 90% of the requests. And usually it’s those vulgar, insane ones. He’s just a girl 🎀

Zayne:

- Subtle about his adoration. Would silently like every single one of your posts, but he wouldn’t really comment or reblog them.

- With that being said, he will never forget to compliment your work when he sees you, though.

- Would analyze every letter and syllable to the point where he can somehow decipher how or what you were feeling or thinking from your writing alone.

- He would never admit it, though. He’d only silently know and if he thinks you need a hug, he will try and be there for you more often.

- On top of compliments, he provides you with genuine constructive criticism without overwhelming you or making you feel insecure about your work.

- But he’s not too good with parts of the writing that include emotions. I imagine it to go somewhat like… “But the phrasing is a little confusing. Could you explain the reasoning behind it?” “It’s for emotional depth, Zayne…” “Ah… I see.”

- Don’t be mistaken!! Even though he is scare with his compliments, he doesn’t admire your work any less than the other LIs!

- Believes that a person’s art is a reflection of their self, so he tries to see you in your work.

Sylus:

- Like all, he is the biggest fan of your work.

- Probably has a thousand secret accounts he uses to like and reblog your posts.

- Spends alot of money (which is, of course, insignificant to him) blazing your posts and promoting them.

- But, if you prefer a quieter fanbase, he would respect that as well.

- Nonetheless, expect him to like your work on all his accounts the moment it’s released.

- Suddenly you’re wondering how your post garnered 1000 likes in the first hour.

- If you’re writing a series, he would ask you when the next chapter is coming out.

- You won’t have a single hater as long as Sylus is around. If anyone does so much as dare to comment a single vulgar word aimed towards you or your work, they get a message in their inbox listing their address and personal info.

- And then, the next day, their comment is gone. You wonder what could’ve happened.

- Like Zayne, he’d give you his advice and some constructive criticism whilst somehow uplifting your work at the same time when asked.

- If you include any philosophies in your work, he’d bring it up and discuss it with you. He loves hearing your thoughts, whether it be complex or casual.

- Memorises the quotes he likes from your fanfics and actively uses them irl.

- Your work would probably be the first and only one to elicit an emotional reaction from him.

- If you have any dreams as an author, he would definitely offer to find you a publisher and pay for all costs. He just wants to see you fulfil your dreams, even if you’d abandoned them.

Caleb:

- A LOUD fan of your work.

- Probably sends it to all his friends (poor Gideon) and boasts about how his partner is such a talented writer.

- Reblogs with captions and tags, comments on, and likes each one of your work.

- Like Rafayel, his comments are dramatic and encouraging. He doesn’t just compliment your work. He SHOWS that he’s read it.

- Avid, shameless smut reader. Would EAT those fics up. Especially if they were penned by you.

- Probably sends those to his friends too (poor Gideon).

- Blazes each of your posts. Even the stupid ones. Manages to increase your fanbase by a bunch. The month you revealed your acc to him, you suddenly gained a hundred new followers.

- If you want a smaller fanbase, he’d be content with that as well. He loves the idea of being one of the few people to read such a masterpiece.

- Definitely knew about your acc even before you revealed it to him. If you had previous accounts growing up on either tumblr or AO3, he’d be secretly reading your work via an alt account.

- Don’t ask how he found your acc.

- Would definitely engrave all the things you want in a partner into his brain and work on them secretly.

- Probably has a diary dedicated to analyzing and complimenting your work.

[vivwritesfics]

Codename: Bunny

Chapter Two

Summary: The world thinks Oscar Piastri is dead. Oscar Piastri thinks Oscar Piastri is dead. Now ex-Mafia, he finds himself hiding out in Melbourne. But Mark Webber pulls him back in, all to protect his niece from an anonymous threat on her life.

The niece that wants nothing to do with him. The niece that tried to kill him the first time they met. What could go wrong?

Warnings: Guns, death (not really), blood, knives, stalking

A/N: Bunny girl is autistic but i'm not stating it outright in my writing (projecting rn)

Hey Bunny.

Her hand wrapped around the handle of her knife, her nails decorated with delicate blueberries. Her other hand was against his neck, pressed against his pulse point.

It would have been so satisfying to feel his pulse spike with fear. Any other man would have let their fear take over. But not Oscar.

He was perfectly calm, and she hated it. That was nearly enough to drive her knife into his neck.

Her uncle calling her name saved Oscar's life that day.

Pocketing the knife, Y/N Webber stepped away from Oscar. She slipped her knife into the hidden leather sheath she'd attached to her skirt and stepped away from him.

“No,” she said to Mark, the first thing she'd said since she entered the room.

Mark didn't answer her. He didn't ask what she meant by ‘no’, instead asking his own question. “Where's Logan?”

“On his way,” she said quickly and pointed a manicured finger at Oscar. “I don't want him anywhere near me.”

Oscar took his hands from his pocket and leaned forward. With his hands free, he could grab her wrist if she went for her knife. “Why? Because I won't put up with your bullshit?”

Y/N released something inhuman from her throat, something like a growl. As much as she hated him, he was right.

All those years ago, when Oscar was just a rookie in the Webber Family, the first time he looked over her, he had been stern. He had escorted her everywhere, hadn't let her do anything fun.

Not like Logan, who was a pushover. With Logan, all she had to do was bat her eyelashes and wear a pout. After that, Logan agreed to anything.

Oscar wouldn't have let her go to any of the parties she attended with Logan. He wouldn't have sat in a bar with her, taking her home when she was a giggly mess.

Oscar would have forced her to sit in her apartment. Last time that happened, most of the knives in the apartment were in front of him, being protected from her. He didn't know about the pink one back then, not until it was lodged into the wall beside his head and blood from his ear was dripping onto his shirt.

Seeing the scar on his ear was so damn satisfying.

“Y/N,” Mark began, but she shook her head.

“No, Mark! I don't want to be babysat by him!” She insisted.

Just as bratty as Oscar remembered her to be.

A sigh left Mark's lips as he leaned forward. “Sweetheart, it's not babysitting,” he said as she folded her arms over her chest. “I need someone I trust to protect you, someone I know can take care of you.”

He said it so gently, so sweetly, she dropped her arms. Just his niece, but she might as well have been his daughter. The only family he had left in the world, and he was going to do whatever it took to keep her safe.

“I don't understand why Logan can't keep protecting me,” she mumbled, actually sounding kind of sweet.

“He's being reassigned,” Mark answered. “I need you to trust me.”

She rubbed her eyes and nodded her head. “Okay,” she said finally. “Let me say goodbye to Logan.”

Mark nodded and she turned around. Oscar watched her go, marching out of the office and down the hall. “Are you sure that's a good idea?” He asked and Mark shrugged his shoulders.

“She knows she'll be in trouble if she doesn't come back,” Mark answered and lounged back in his chair, posture relaxed. “You'll be paid handsomely for this,” he continued. “And as soon as the threat is located and dealt with, you'll be free to go back to your normal life.”

“I should get my stuff from my apartment,” he said.

Mark released a laugh. “I'll have stuff sent to her apartment for you.”

Oh yeah, he would be living with her. In her apartment, sleeping on that lumpy sofa. She insisted that the lumps were just right to be comfortable, but Oscar's neck and back disagreed.

“Does she still have that cat?”

“Pistachio?” Mark asked and Oscar nodded. “Yeah, he's still around.”

“Good to know,” Oscar mumbled and scratched at his wrist. Admittedly, he didn't know what to do now. Y/N had disappeared out of the office, so he was left waiting.

What if she doesn't come back?

But then the door opened.

A familiar face, dressed in a pristine suit, strode into the office. He looked at Mark, looked at Oscar, and a smile graced his features. “Good to see you, man,” Logan said quietly and led her into the office.

Her breath was shaking as she held onto Logan, unwilling to let him go. “Logan,” Mark said and nodded towards him.

Her grip was still tight as Logan fished his car keys from his pocket. He placed them on the desk and used his other hand to get her off of him. The sweet words left his lips, the whole scene feeling too intimate for onlookers.

The way Logan called her ‘baby’, the way he brushed her hair behind her ears and kissed her forehead. He really, truly cared for her, Oscar realised.

“Where am I being reassigned to?” Logan asked as he finally got out of her boa constrictor hold.

Mark picked up the keys in front of him. “We'll discuss it later,” he said, the keys dangling from his finger. “Oscar, these are for you.” He held the keys out and Oscar took them. “Don't let her drive.”

His eyebrows went up. “Weren't you learning to drive last time I saw you?” He asked her.

She glared at him. A vicious glare he knew so well. He hadn't exactly missed it when working for The Norris Family, The Sainz Family. But it was good to see it, good to know she still had it in her to glare daggers at him.

“I can drive,” she spat through clenched teeth.

“Don't let her drive,” Logan reiterated.

Oscar looked at the keys in his hand. “Don't let her drive, got it,” he said and shoved them into his pocket.

With something between a growl and a groan, she marched out of the office and slammed the door shut behind her.

One look from Mark and Oscar was following her. “Hey,” he called, speeding up to chase her. He wasn't going to run, though. No way in hell was he running after her. He called her name, but she was down the stairs and making her way to the front door.

“Make sure she can't get off of the property without me,” Oscar said to one of the men at the door. He nodded, wide eyes as if he had seen a ghost (in some ways, he had).

Oscar walked out through the doors. His eyes scanned the courtyard, moved over the fountain, over the cars, and towards the gate.

The heavily fortified gates. His command had gotten to the men on the property, evident by the way she argued with the man in front of the gate. Her shout carried across the courtyard, back to the house. When she called him an asshole and stomped her foot, Oscar bit back a grin.

Arms folded over her chest, she reluctantly made her way back towards Oscar. Her glare was fixed on him as she stomped, wearing her black trainers.

“I want to go home,” she spat and held her hand out for the car keys.

Oscar pulled the keys from his pocket. “What's your address?” He asked and pressed the button on the keys. He looked all of the cars parked outside of the house, searching for the quick flashes of light.

A shitty, little Fiat, one he didn't want to drive. Her car, clearly. Oscar waited for her response, his eyebrows raised slightly.

Folding her arms over her chest, she turned away from him and raised a chin. “Fine,” he said. “I'm gonna wait in the car.”

Oscar left her by the house. He strode towards the car, feeling out of place in his shorts and hoodie. Even more out of place when he climbed into the driver's seat of the little Fiat.

For ten minutes, he sat there. To her credit, she was stubborn. The girl Oscar left behind would have given up by now, would have climbed into the car, her body turned away from him as he drove her home.

Home, where she wanted to be. But not if Oscar was the one driving.

After those ten minutes, she made her way towards the car. Her arms were crossed over her chest, but she looked embarrassed instead of angry. Her glare wasn't all there as she pulled open the passenger side door and climbed in.

Silently, Oscar put the car into gear and drove away from the house. The gate swung open for the tiny little car, letting them through.

“You're gonna have to tell me where I'm going, Y/N,” he said. Still calm, but Oscar always had been with her. It didn't matter what she did, how angry she got, he was always calm. It usually made her angrier.

The address was muttered under her breath. The same place she had lived the last time Oscar protected her (protected was a strong word. He preferred ‘babysitting’). As nice as the apartment was, Oscar expected more.

“Thought you wanted to go to school,” he mumbled.

She perked up at that and pushed herself away from the window. “You remembered that?” She asked and Oscar nodded his head.

Y/N settled back down in her seat, but she wasn't turned away from him and her head wasn't against the window anymore. “I'm at school,” she muttered, eyes still on him. It was the longest she'd looked at him all day. “Fashion school.”

Just like she had always dreamed.

“Congratulations,” he said, his voice nothing more than a mutter. Her apartment was just around the corner. “I know that's what you always wanted.”

The two more minutes they were in the car was spent in silence. Oscar pulled into his old parking space and killed the engine.

Locking the car, he followed her into the apartment. Oscar's eyes scanned every door they passed, every entrance and exit, every window, everything.

Safe, for now.

Oscar faced the hall as she pushed open the door. Nobody exited the apartments sandwiching her own. Nobody walked down the hall.

Oscar followed her into the apartment and pushed the door shut. He worked on all of the locks while she dropped her keys onto the kitchen counter.

“Oh my God.” Oscar looked around at the mess that was her apartment.

Dishes everywhere. Mugs on the side, plates with a little bit of food still on them, and cutlery piled into a dirty bowl. Clothes all over the floor, fabrics thrown over the rug on the floor. The bin was overflowing with wrappers and the litter box was gross.

Logan let her live like this?

Oscar never would have let it get this bad. That was part of the reason he had the scar on his ear. Because he made her clean up after herself.

Back then he didn't understand. He didn't understand why everything was a struggle back then. She had her good days, where she was actually kind of sweet. But she had her bad days. Days where every little thing got to her. Days where she needed a patient hand, but Oscar didn't know to give that to her.

Something brushed up against his leg. Oscar looked down at the white cat with brown spots. He had bright blue eyes, too.

“Hey, Piss,” he whispered and leaned down to stroke his hand through his fur. Pistachio purred and turned around to brush the other side of his body against Oscar's leg. “We've got our work cut out for us.”

prev

Taglist: @jjs-space

@barcelonaloverf1life

@taetae-armyyyyy

@vanteel

@formula1fordisaster

@formulaal

@cassielikereading

[nonville]

⟡ ׅ non speaks! i blacked out and wrote 2k+ ... nsfw ahead. three shots for pussy enthusiast hyuck! for the anon that asked what it would be like if he came on to reader! enjoy～

office assistant!hyuck is... well. the best word to describe him is greedy. greedy for your attention, greedy for your approval, greedy for your time. he scowls behind the backs of the people who hit on you before plastering on a smile when they turn around and see him. he hates when he's talking you about work and someone butts in to ask you for a quick favor. the worst of them all has to be your boss—all saggy skin and a few weeks shy of decrepit—and he's so shameless about the way he ogles your legs when you choose to wear skirts. if looks could kill, the company would have one-fourth of its staff remaining.

you've been somewhat entertaining his... advances. particularly the instance of getting him off underneath your desk—you'd learned he loved being edged, gagged, and then overstimulated all within the better part of two hours. it's a bit thrilling. his overzealous interest in you makes you feel good. being so overtly desired by someone else. someone... younger.

you're already threading the line of an hr meeting. so you keep the public affection to a minimum and chalk it up to cuteness aggression and his already known adoration for you. even if he has to shift in his seat every ten minutes to hide his boner every time you so much as smiled at him.

it all comes to a head when your boss flirts with you grossly again. hands on your lower back, a sleazy grin oozing with ill intentions, and the most disgusting way you've ever heard a man ask anyone out. you're so shocked you can't even come up with an answer, and before you do, donghyuck finally buts in.

"sorry to interrupt." his voice startles you. when you look towards him, the smile on his face is stretched impossibly thin. "i don't understand something in one of the databases and i need my supervisor's help. if you don't mind."

your boss frowns, disgruntled, but you're already tuned out of the conversation. "it must be important if such a diligent worker is confused, then," you take the outing with stride, offering an barely apologetic smile to your boss before parting ways.

donghyuck's smile is nothing but cheshire-like when he agrees, nodding like the cat that got the cream. he prattles off a long enough excuse that makes the older man disinterested in sticking around, and you watch him watch your boss stalk off dejectedly. when he turns to face you, your smile is knowing.

his face immediately flushes. but instead of allowing you to poke fun at him, he blurts out a 'have dinner with me' before you can get a word out. it surprises you. you think it surprises him, too, with the way he gets impossibly redder.

and... it wasn't like you were doing anything after work this week. but you can't resist—"are you asking me out?"

it's teasing. lighthearted fun. nothing you haven't before in a joking manner. this time though, his expression looks a bit too serious for someone with an office crush. or whatever the two of you were doing.

"if you want it to be a date, it's a date."

—

you don't even make it to the parking lot.

he's unusually quiet as the day draws to an eventual close, watching you make your rounds and say goodbye to the people that walked by your desk. like hours earlier, his stare bores holes into your skin the more you move around and interact with the people around you. soon enough, it's just you and him on the floor.

you hum as you pack your things for the night, already thinking about the plans you'd make with the younger for this 'date'. you can finally justify buying those shoes from two week ago, maybe pair it with something classy and sleek if the two of you end up somewhere high end—

a warm hand rests on your lower back as your clearing your desk. it makes you pause, looking back to see... oh.

he's not even looking at you. his gaze is glued to the swell of your ass in your skirt, lips parted and cheeks tinged pink. both hands now move to hold your waist, sliding behind you before he lets out a shaky exhale.

"i've been good," he murmurs lowly, and your stomach takes a sharp nosedive at how deep his voice sounds. his movements become a little more frantic, his grip tightening. "right? i've been really, really good. but i can't hold back anymore. 'm sorry. i want you so bad."

his hips press against your ass and you finally feel the swell of his growing erection. your sharp hiss of surprise is answered by a whine near your ear, his chest pressed against your back as you prop your arms up against the table. "please? just wanna feel you. just this once? only once. won't ask again, i promise—"

you hush him before he accidentally alerts anyone else about your presence. the lights on the floor are dimmed, giving his flushed face a half glow. he has been good. one of your best assistants in a long while, really—why not indulge him a little?

the sound of you hiking your skirt up makes him moan lowly, desperate hands helping you tug the material up to your waist. the sight of your panties makes him choke. thighs pressed together, the outline of your pussy seen through the fabric. before you can even offer to get him ready, your chest is pressed against your desk, his cock sliding between the gap of your thighs.

"every night i fuck my fist thinking about you." the confession makes your eyes widen, your gasp making him laugh shakily. he thrusts into the shallow space and shudders at the friction your panties cause against his skin, hips beginning to rut against your ass at a growing pace. "sta-ahh-started when you smiled at m-me on my first day."

he doesn't even give you a moment to process that information, panting lowly into your ear as his hips move faster. "you were sooohh nice to me. and it made me hard. it made me s-so hard. would fuck my hand over a-and over thinking about how your pussy would feel on my cock, didya know?"

you're leaking. the slide between your legs becoming easier with a mix of precum and your arousal, donghyuck moaning in your ear everytime he feels your pussy clench through the now sheer and glossy fabric. "can feel how bad you want it, too. nobody else in the office gets to see—fuck me—gets to see this pussy but me. it's mine."

the possessiveness in his voice makes you shudder, squeezing your thighs together. his answering whimper is like a reward. you're sure you'll feel the weight of his grip for days after. his cock his heavy between your thighs, the glide slick and smooth, and when you look down—the bulbous head peeks through the gap and spurts out precum with each thrust. your clit feels like it's on fire. never before have you felt so empty.

clawing out through your own cloud of arousal, your voice is like music to his ears when you begin to whisper sweet words of praise. his hands wrestle with your shirt, popping buttons as he wrangles his way underneath to fabric to grope and squeeze your chest. his moan is louder that yours, burrowing his face into your neck.

"that's it," you hum softly, pressing your ass back on him in time with his thrust. the strangled sound against your neck makes you smile. "feels good, right?"

his drawn out whine of yes is cut in half by a hiccup, sniffling back—is he crying? desire hits your stomach like a shot, clenching yet again. he lets out a garbled moan, hips stuttering. "good—so good, don't wanna stop, wanna stay here f-forever! fuck, please, please—"

it takes a moment before you realize he's begging for permission, inhaling sharply before matching his pace once again. "go on and cum, baby. you deserve it. you've been so good."

you learn he bites when he cums. not hard enough to hurt, but you still hiss when you feel teeth against your shoulder as cum soaks your panties. a hoarse moan is muffled against your skin as his hips jerk. there's so much of it. his cock twitches madly between your legs. cum seeps into your panties and runs down your thighs, the mess just narrowly avoiding your desk.

he nuzzles into your neck, mumbling incoherent words against your skin as his hands slide from your chest all the way down to your underwear. the rough pad of his fingers against your wet skin makes you jolt—unable to stop yourself from bucking into his palm as he rubs his fingers against your entrance. every part of your body feels charged.

"you didn't get to cum?" he pouts when you shake your head, lips then parting around a moan when his fingers begin to toy with your clit. tight circles that nearly make your knees buckle from the sudden onslaught of pleasure. you can already feel him getting hard again. "can i—wanna taste.."

you blink and you're splayed out on to your desk, skirt hiked up even further. desire makes your ears sing as your beloved assistant stares down at your spread legs like it'll be his last meal. his hands fumble with your ruined panties, brows furrowing as the offending material refusing to let go of your soaked mound, tugging and tugging and tugging until—riiip!

you gape at him as the sound of fabric being torn to shreds fills the air. but you don't even have time to process even the cold air that makes your shiver for less than a second, his mouth settling on your clit and sucking like a man starved. you're thighs clamp around his thighs as you shudder, his hands fumbling to squeeze around his girth as his cock twitches a mile from the taste and sight of you. his eyes roll back as you use him, stiffening the wet muscle as you drag your pussy over his mouth.

each time your clit catches on his nose, pleasure zips up your spine like an electric current. it's maddening how good it feels. he switches back and forth between fucking his tongue inside of you and sucking your clit between pink lips, humming everytime you cry out in pleasure.

your voice slurs when you speak. "feels guh-good, baby, you're so good—" his eyes flutter open at the praise, darkened eyes meeting your from between your thighs. "mnngh—gonna m-make me—cum!"

how was it that the boy between your legs was the first time you've succumbed to pleasure so maddeningly quick? he ate pussy like it was his god-given purpose on the earth to do so, moaning and watching your expressions to drive you over the edge with a startling quickness. you don't ever think you've wanted to cum so badly before. it's exhilarating. it's fucking enlightening. it's-it's—

your hips stutter as your orgasm crashes into your without warning, all the air wooshing out of your lungs as your body locks up and bows off the table. you think you even see heaven for a split second—spots of white clouding your vision before your legs lock around his head again you cum. hard.

the momentary air loss to his head makes his own hips stutter, squeezing around his base as he licks and sucks at your pussy to get allll the sweet juice you offer. his head is cloudy, like he's floating above his own body, his anchor the sound of your sobs as your thread your hand through sweat tousled hair and tug. his vision whites out as well, coming back to thick white ropes of cum splattered against the tiled floor.

panting is the only thing heard for a while. you look down to see him nuzzling into your inner thigh, eyes fluttered shut as he catches his breath. the sight tugs at your heartstrings, moving to sit up on shaking arms. he lets out a soft sound of confusion when you motion for him to stand up, his cock half spent and leaking on your tight when he moves to stand between your legs.

the kiss your share is hilariously innocent compared to the double orgasm the two of you had just shared. he flushes bright red when you pull away, chasing your mouth for another. you oblige, and you kiss until you can feel the exhaustion seeping into your bones. still, ever insatiable after finally getting a taste of what he'd been longing for months over, you feel his cock twitch and get harder the more you kiss him. when you part again for the second time, his pupils are dilated, his expression dazed.

"wanna go again." he blurts out the confession with jumbled speech, hands pawing at your thighs again. "know i said just once b-but you tastesogood, 'n i just wanna—just wanna, mmmnn, i wanna taste—"

he's so greedy. but after he sucks another orgasm from the sopping mess between your thighs, moaning a promise to really take you to dinner around time between your fold, something akin to fondness builds a nest next to your growing desire for him.

[blueberry3241]

★彡 Txt reaction they get jealous and claim you

↷ Pairing : txt x reader ↷ Genre : Romance, Fluff, Jealousy, Slight Possessiveness, and Light Angst (due to jealousy) ↷ word count : 2,000–2,200 words

↳ Disclaimer : This is an original work of fiction. All characters, settings, and story elements are my own creation. Any resemblance to real people, places, or events is purely coincidental. Please do not reproduce, distribute, or adapt this work without my explicit permission.

↝Yeonjun

You had been chatting with a male staff member at the set, laughing at a joke he made, completely unaware of the way Yeonjun’s sharp gaze was locked onto you from across the room. His jaw clenched, arms crossed, and his foot tapped impatiently against the floor.

As soon as you turned around, you were met with Yeonjun standing directly in front of you, his eyes dark with an emotion you immediately recognized—jealousy.

"Who was that?" he asked, voice smooth but carrying an unmistakable edge.

You blinked. "Oh, just one of the staff. He was telling me about—"

Yeonjun didn’t let you finish. He reached for your wrist, gently yet firmly, pulling you closer so that your faces were mere inches apart. His breath was warm against your skin as he whispered, "I don’t like seeing you laugh like that with another guy."

Your heart pounded. "Yeonjun, are you jealous?"

His lips curled into a smirk, though his grip on your waist tightened possessively. "Jealous? Maybe. But mostly, I just need you to remember something…" He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're mine."

Without warning, he pressed a lingering kiss against your temple before locking eyes with you, waiting for your reaction. Your cheeks burned, but the way he was looking at you, like you were his entire world, made you weak.

Yeonjun smirked at your silence. "I think I need to make sure you don’t forget that anytime soon."

↝Soobin

You were sitting in the dorm’s living room, talking animatedly with Beomgyu. The two of you always had a playful dynamic, teasing each other about the silliest things. Today was no different, but someone was not having it.

Soobin had been watching silently from the kitchen, his fingers gripping the glass of water in his hands a little too tightly. He wasn’t usually one to get jealous over small things, but the way Beomgyu was making you laugh—his laugh—was making his heart ache.

Finally, he’d had enough. Walking up to you, he subtly placed himself between you and Beomgyu, looking down at you with those big, soft eyes.

"(Y/N), can you come with me for a second?" he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

You frowned, noticing the slight pout on his lips. "Uh, sure?"

He took your hand and led you into his room, shutting the door behind him. Before you could even ask what was wrong, he pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your hair.

"Did I do something wrong?" you murmured, confused by his sudden clinginess.

Soobin sighed against your skin. "No… I just…" He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "I don't like when other guys make you laugh like that." His voice was soft, almost shy, but there was something serious in his gaze.

You giggled, poking his cheek. "Oh my god, Soobin, are you jealous?"

His face turned red instantly. "I—No! Maybe. I don’t know. I just want to be the one who makes you smile the most."

Your heart melted at his words, and you reached up to cup his cheeks. "You always do, Soobin. No one else could ever take your place."

Soobin exhaled in relief before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Good… because I don’t plan on letting anyone try."

↝Beomgyu

Beomgyu had been staring at you from across the practice room, sulking. You were talking to one of the new backup dancers, smiling and nodding at whatever he was saying. That was enough to set Beomgyu off.

He dramatically flopped onto the floor, groaning loud enough for the entire room to hear. When that didn’t get your attention, he rolled over onto his stomach, chin resting on his arm, looking at you with the saddest puppy eyes he could muster.

You finally turned to him, laughing. "What are you doing?"

Beomgyu let out a dramatic sigh. "Dying."

You walked over to him, kneeling beside him. "Oh no, what happened?"

He looked up at you, his eyes glistening with fake tears. "You happened. My own partner, betraying me in broad daylight. Laughing with another man while I waste away here, unloved and forgotten."

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your lips gave you away. "Beomgyu, please, you’re being ridiculous."

He suddenly sat up, grabbing your hands and pulling you closer. "Ridiculous? No, what’s ridiculous is that you’re over there talking to someone else when I exist."

You laughed, trying to pull away, but Beomgyu wouldn’t let you. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you, squeezing tightly. "You’re mine. You belong to me, and only me."

"Possessive much?" you teased.

"Yes," he admitted shamelessly, grinning. "And I’ll make sure you never forget it."

↝Taehyun

Taehyun wasn’t the type to get jealous over small things. He trusted you, and he knew you loved him. But that didn’t mean he liked seeing you getting too friendly with someone else.

So when he saw you talking to one of the stylists for a little too long, he didn’t say anything at first. He just watched. Observed. Waited.

Then, when you finally walked back to him, he simply took your hand and intertwined your fingers. His grip was firm, almost like he was staking his claim without needing to say a word.

"Taehyun?" you asked, tilting your head. "Are you okay?"

He met your gaze, eyes unreadable. Then, without warning, he leaned in close. "Do you like making me jealous?"

Your eyes widened. "W-What?"

He smirked, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I saw you laughing with him. Was it fun?"

You swallowed, your heart racing. "I wasn’t trying to—"

Taehyun cut you off by pressing a soft kiss to your jawline. "Be careful, (Y/N). You’re mine, and I don’t like sharing."

Your face turned red at his words, and Taehyun chuckled, clearly satisfied with your reaction. He tightened his grip on your hand and pulled you closer, making sure everyone in the room knew exactly who you belonged to.

↝Kai

Kai was usually easygoing. He rarely got mad, let alone jealous. But today was different. Today, you had spent way too much time talking to someone else, and he didn’t like it.

He pouted from across the room, his arms crossed as he watched you with big, sad eyes. When you finally noticed, you walked over to him, confused.

"Kai, what’s wrong?"

He huffed, refusing to meet your gaze. "Nothing."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Because you look like a sad puppy."

Kai finally turned to you, his lips jutting out in a pout. "You didn’t pay attention to me at all today."

Your heart melted. "Oh my god, are you jealous?"

He hesitated before nodding slowly. "Maybe a little…"

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You’re so cute, Kai. You have no reason to be jealous, you know? You’re my favorite person."

His eyes lit up at your words, and he pulled you even closer. "Promise?"

"Promise."

Kai grinned and nuzzled into your neck. "Good. Because I don’t like sharing you."

[arcadia-smith]

My Sweet Life Ep1

Moodboard/Masterlist

Pairing: Simon Riley x Fem!reader

Summary: Navigating everyday life with Simon Riley. Sitcom-style fanfiction.

Word count: just under 800

Next episode

"Oh, no." Simon’s groan echoed from the living room, followed by the heavy thud of his footsteps as he strode toward the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway, holding up his phone like it personally offended him.

"Luv, thought you were working. But if they’re paying you for this," he waved the device for emphasis, "then you’ve got one hell of a job."

You didn’t look up from your laptop, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Okay, to be fair, you had been a little relentless lately—spamming him with kitten pictures on a daily basis. But how could you not? For the first time, you actually had the chance to adopt one, and all that stood in your way was convincing your fiancé.

Slowly, you swiveled your chair to face him, lips forming the lightest pout—the one you’d spent all morning perfecting in the mirror.

"Don’t you think they’re cute?"

Simon exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. It was so damn hard to say no to you, especially when you looked at him like that—lips quivering just enough, eyebrows knitted together, eyes full of adoration.

"For the love of gods," he groaned. His arms crossed over his chest, but you could see the cracks forming. "Where the hell did you even find all these?"

Your eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. Were you actually getting through to him?

"The last two are from the shelter down the street, saw them there and just thought they were cute," you said, voice brimming with excitement.

And then—without pause—you launched into a ten-minute monologue about those kittens.

You told him everything—the way the tabby had stretched its tiny paws and yawned like it had all the time in the world, how the little black one had climbed onto your lap and immediately curled up, purring like a miniature engine.

You didn't notice when his phone lowered to his side. Didn't notice the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"And, Si, you should’ve seen their eyes," you pressed on, hands gesturing wildly now. "Big, round, and so full of love. Like they already chose me."

He sighed. A deep, long-suffering sigh, like he was about to dive into something he knew damn well he wouldn’t come out.

"So," he drawled, pushing off the frame, stepping into the kitchen. "You already named 'em, didn’t you?"

Your mouth snapped shut.

He knew.

You bit your lip, trying to play innocent, but his sharp eyes caught everything. He was a soldier, after all. A trained interrogator. You never really stood a chance.

"...Maybe."

His jaw flexed. "Luv."

You grinned, "Ghost and Soap."

That nearly broke him. You saw it—the flicker of amusement, the way his lips twitched before he caught himself.

"Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You didn’t let him recover. "C’mon, Si," you pleaded, voice dipping into that soft, coaxing tone he had absolutely no defenses against. "Just come see them. We don’t have to adopt them today. Just—just look at them."

He lifted a brow. "You think I don’t know exactly how this plays out?"

You tilted your head, all wide-eyed innocence. "What do you mean?"

He huffed. "You get me to ‘just look.’ Then you put one in my hands, and suddenly I’m holding it. Then it falls asleep on me, and next thing I know, we’re coming home with a cat."

"...Or two," you mumbled.

Simon closed his eyes. Breathed. "I love you, I do. But this place is not for a cat, luv" he leaned against the counter "It's gonna leave his fur everywhere, probably piss in my boots-"

You gasped dramatically, clutching your chest as if he’d just stabbed you. "Simon Riley, how dare you?"

"We’ve got enough to handle as it is," he reasoned.

You slid your chair closer, practically glowing with determination. "Think about it—"

"Oh, I have—"

"—a tiny little kitten curled up on your lap after a long mission."

Simon groaned again, tilting his head back like he was asking the heavens for patience. "Luv—"

"You walk in, exhausted, and there they are, all warm and soft, purring just for you."

His eye twitched.

"And, oh!" You clasped your hands together, eyes widening in faux surprise. "Did I mention they have the tiniest paws? So itty-bitty!"

Simon inhaled sharply through his nose. "You’re doin’ this on purpose."

"Just one visit," you said, voice soft, persuasive. "We’ll go to the shelter, just to look."

Simon’s jaw tensed. You could practically see the gears turning. He knew damn well there was no such thing as ‘just looking’.

[multiversefanfics]

Spencer

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Warning: Fluffy Spencer, kissing, grinding, no smut Summary: You were the newest member of the BAU, and you took a liking to everyone, they welcomed you with open arms, especially Spencer Word Count: 1,983

It was a very hot day, you walked into the BAU in a tank top and your normal work pants, and you had a blazer draped over your forearm for when you needed to be professional. Emily and JJ did the same thing, Soon Morgan came into the picture fanning himself with a case file, you haven’t seen Spencer yet, but you were too worried about cooling down to think about him, unfortunately. You sat down at your desk which happens to be right under the AC vent, the cool air washed over you instantly drying the sweat that had pooled on the back of your neck.

You leaned forward on your desk, head in hand, just relaxing. “Is that a tattoo I, see?”

Your head snapped up as Morgan approached you pointing out the many different tattoos on your arms and back, you leaned back in your chair looking up at him

“I’m full of surprises.” You winked at him as he pulled up a chair to ask you about your tattoos.

“Okay, what about that one?” He pointed to the banana on your inner right upper arm you sighed and looked back at him

“Best friend tattoo, we got drunk and decided on a banana.” Morgan nodded, seeing the look on your face,

“I’m assuming you two aren’t friends anymore?” You shook your head, pushing the hair out of your face

“Got any more tattoos, you know, ones that are covered?” You smirked at Derek and motioned for him to come closer.

He licked his lips and closed the space between you two, you stared into his eyes “Derek, if this is your poor attempt to get me naked, try again. Your little tricks don’t work on me, love.”

Derek chuckled and tapped your nose, whispering lowly, “No tricks, just curious as to what your body looks like.” He winked, got up, and walked away.

Derek wasn’t serious at all but you also couldn’t help but think about how he was in bed, you could see that man totally dominating you but at the same time, you could see him doing whatever you told him. You shook those thoughts out of your mind, Come on he's your coworker. You leaned back in your chair, closed your eyes, and started fanning yourself with a file when you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You looked up and saw Spencer standing over you

"Oh, hey Spencer." He gave a small wave and then proceeded to hand you a cold bottle of water. You thanked him and drank some.

You turned to face him leaning over in your chair and inspecting his outfit which consisted of a t-shirt and jeans

"I've never seen you in a t-shirt and jeans before." You saw his eyes flicker to your chest, then back up to your eyes.

"Uh yeah, it's very hot outside." He stuttered and quickly walked to the kitchenette to make his coffee.

Spencer was normally this way, but something seemed off, you shrugged it off and turned your attention to JJ who was now sitting on the edge of your desk she said she wanted to talk to you but really, she wanted your ac

“You know ever since you started here Spence has not stopped talking about you.” You giggled and looked back at Spencer

“What could he possibly have to say about me?” You looked up at JJ who smirked and started listing off things

“He talks about how your curls bounce when you’re in a hurry, how quick you are with comebacks”

She leaned down close to your ear and whispered, “I also heard him tell Derek that he wants to take you out.”

You rolled your eyes and lightly smacked her with the file in your hand. “Listen, I think he is very cute, but I doubt he looked at me that way.”

You looked over at Spencer who fumbled with the little plastic stirring sticks, you giggled to yourself not taking your eyes off of him.

“When you come back down from Spencer Land, let me know.” You rolled your eyes and got up to go find Penelope.

Even if she wasn’t in her lair right now, she’d be there soon. When you entered her office, she wasn’t in there, so you walked around looking at her stuff until she came in, tea in hand

“Oh hey, what are you doing here?” You jumped a little like you just got caught doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing but that wasn’t the case.

“Hi, I was just waiting for you to come back, I need to talk.” She smiled wide and fast walked to her chair turning towards you.

“Spill.”

You sat on the edge of the table, your shoulders slumped. “I really like Spencer, but what if that ruins our friendship or our dynamic at work? What would Hotch and Rossi say??”

You started to panic “I just thought of that oh my god, I can’t date him it’s against policy!” Garcia giggled and snapped her fingers at you

“Hey, calm down. First of all, Rossi is the reason for the policy, and second, I think you two would get a pass because you’re both so adorable.”

You blushed slightly and thought for a minute, you and Spencer would be adorable, but you two are coworkers, would it actually work out between you two?

You went back to your desk, leaning your forehead against your arms, you sighed and closed your eyes, you heard the sound of footsteps walking up behind you, you assumed it was probably Hotch getting ready to nag you about your head being down. You sat up and leaned back looking up at the figure that stood beside your desk.

"Oh, hey Spencer, I thought you were Hotch coming to yell at me."

You chuckled and adjusted in your seat "Everything okay? Well minus the heat."

He smiled and nodded "I- Uh I have a question to ask you." You nodded and watched him fiddle with his fingertips.

"You okay?"

He took a deep breath "Doyouwanttogooutsometime?"

You giggled and took his hands in yours. "Little slower this time."

He nodded and exhaled through his nose. "Do you want to go out sometime?" You smiled and nodded

"Of course, I would love to pick me up at 7?" He nodded and hurried away to his desk.

JJ witnessed the entire thing and motioned for you to come to her office. You playfully rolled your eyes and followed her, and you shut the door behind you, staring at her

"Yes?" She smiled wide and beamed up at you

"Did Spencer just ask you out?" You sat down in front of her and nodded

"Yeah, we're supposed to go out tonight" She got all giddy and excited, and you smiled and talked to her about what to wear.

It was 6:30pm, and you were sitting in your living room waiting for Spencer to knock on your door, you knew he wouldn't show up at exactly 7, he likes to be early. You bounced your leg up and down looking at your phone clock it's 6:45pm.

Okay, now it was time to worry, no texts, no missed calls, not even an email. You honestly wanted to get undressed and go to bed, but there's still 15 minutes before you really start to worry.

Just then there was a knock on the door, you smiled wide and looked through the peephole, there he was standing, looking so awkwardly cute, you straightened your shirt and opened the door, he smiled back at you and held out the flowers he had in his hand toward you.

"They're beautiful, come in while I put these in a vase."

He followed you into your small apartment, shutting and locking the door behind him, you walked into the kitchen filling a vase with water.

You placed the flowers in the now-filled vase and turned toward Spencer "So what do you have planned for us?"

His eyebrows furrowed together, and he tilted his head at you. "You didn't plan anything?" He shook his head, frowning slightly

"I'm sorry"

You giggled and shook your head. "It's okay, why don't we cook dinner here, and we can watch a movie, sound good?"

His shoulders slumped and he looked over at you "I feel like I disappointed you."

You stepped toward Spencer resting your hand on his shoulder

"You didn't disappoint me; we could sit in silence, and I would love it because you're here."

He smiled and joined you in the kitchen. The two of you made homemade pizzas, rolling out the dough, spreading marinara sauce, and adding toppings. You looked over at his pizza and made a face.

"Pickles?" His head shot your way pretending to be offended

"How dare you!" He took a big bite, chewing dramatically, looking you in the eyes. He had a bit of sauce on the corner of his mouth, you took your thumb and smoothly wiped it away, letting your fingers linger on his jaw.

Spencer stared into your eyes, melting into your touch, you pulled your hand back wiping your thumb on a napkin, his eyes never leaving yours

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- Anyway, what movie would you like to watch?" He smiled and thought for a minute.

"Anything is fine with me." You nodded and led him to the couch; you looked through your dvds trying to find a good movie that he would like, and you realized you wouldn't have anything that fit him.

He watched you look over your dvds "Y/N, close your eyes and pick one, whatever you pick we will watch."

You nodded and did what he said, and you picked up 'Jurassic Park' You shrugged and put it in the dvd player, pressing play. You grabbed a blanket and covered the two of you up.

Spencer wrapped his arm around your shoulder, you laid your head on his chest and the two of you watched the movie. You felt like someone was staring at you, so you looked up at Spencer to see his eyes already on you, you smiled up at him and he pulled you closer. He took his other hand and gently cupped your cheek brining your lips up to meet his. You've never seen Spencer so bold before, maybe Derek taught him a few things.

He grabbed at your waist, wanting you to be closer to him, he lifted you up and placed you on his lap, not breaking the kiss, you grinded down on him, earning low groans from his lips, you slowly pulled back

"Wow, I wasn't expecting that." You breathed out, tangling your fingers in his curls

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me." You shook your head

"I liked it, and I like you." Spencer smiled up at you, pecking your lips a couple of times

You never knew Spencer could kiss so good; he made you melt just from his touch, from his gaze, hell from his breathing. You've liked Spencer from the moment you met him, he was always so nice, and you couldn't help but fall for him every second of every day.

The two of you finished the movie, you asked him if he wanted to spend the night, not to do anything sexual, but to cuddle and wake up together maybe you two could carpool in the morning.

Of course, he stayed, you also forgot he didn't have pajamas, so he slept in his boxers and nothing else, you cuddled up to his chest and drew lazy shapes on his stomach, he giggled at your touch and did the same motion to your back

"Goodnight, Y/N" He kissed the top of your head and got comfortable

"Goodnight, Spencer"

And with that the two of you drifted to sleep, with goofy grins plastered on your faces.

A/N: Finally, I post this 😂I hope you guys like it, if you want to be tagged in future fics comment here or send me a message. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. 🥰

Main Masterlist - Spencer Reid Masterlist

Taglist: @sleepysongbirdsings @miss-marmalade

[asxgard]

A Lesson in Vulnerability | one-shot

Resident!Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x resident!f!reader

Summary: A pregnancy scare forces you both to lay your cards on the table.

Note: This one took awhile lol, I had it in my head since ep9, but it took forever to get it right (still not thrilled with it), plus it took a backseat once I started Companionship. Not positive how Dr Robby would behave as a resident, so I drew some inspiration from Noah’s ER character, Dr. John Carter (legal controversy aside, I think both characters might’ve had a similar residency experience before moving in different directions. I love and appreciate both characters separately, as their respective shows are different entities. Had they gained the rights, then perhaps our beloved Dr. Robby might’ve instead been our dear Dr. John Carter, but honestly I am living for Dr. Robby right now so I can’t say I’m upset it’s not a reboot).

This one-shot might be inspiring me to make a series, or just jump into some John Carter fics lol

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: afab!reader, established situationship, foul language, pregnancy scare, anxiety, angst, some fluff, residency stress, hurt/comfort, vague smut, loss of a patient, medical inaccuracies, Robby having a hard time expressing his feelings, it’s the 90’s, those brown eyes oof

not beta read

You forgot how it had started — a lingering touch here and a few flirty comments there. Either way, you had ended up in Michael Robinavitch’s bed all the same. It had started with just a night every so often, but then it was after nearly every shift you had together; and now it was leaving a few extra clothes at his apartment so you could stay the night.

Part of you wondered if there was something unspoken about your relationship, but you did not want to be the one to mess with a good thing, or risk breaking it. All you wanted to focus on was your future; what hospital you might want to work at when your residency was over or if perhaps you would move states. You had worked too hard to get hung up on a guy.

But he made it so hard to focus on much else in his company, with those dark brown eyes looking at you like you were the only person in the room, the memory of his touch on your thighs, your hips seared into your mind. For all the stresses of residency, it was nice to forget in the comfort of his touch.

His lips on your throat, his beard tickling you, hot breathy voice in your ear, the feel of his hands on your skin, exploring down, down, down—

“MVA inbound! Three victims, five minutes out!”

You snapped back to reality, pushing your things into your locker and getting to work. It was easy now to fall into pace with the other residents and attendings, after nearly seven months of hard work of being an R2.

The senior attending of the ER, Dr. James Long, called you over to assist in tending to the first patient wheeled in. You hated the way your eyes searched for Dr. Robby, an R3, before you started working on the patient.

Time passed in a blur after that, intubating the more critical of the MVA victims, while the two others were evaluated and deemed lower risk, all three waiting to be brought up to get imaging. While you kept one eye on the MVA patients, you also stepped in to do a few stitches for a mother who had slipped while making lunch.

There was rarely ever a lull, so you stepped away when you could. You quickly found your way into the staff lounge, looking for a pick-me-up and perhaps a protein bar. It was the perfect place to take a deep breath — the one patient had been touch-and-go for nearly a half hour, and the adrenaline was slowly leaving your system.

“Hey,” Robby greeted, seemingly having the same idea as you.

You smiled back at him, opening the protein bar.

“You want to come by after your shift?”

You were thankful you were chewing so you did not jump at it. You tried to stay casual. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

He smiled, and you swore it could light up any room he was in. You hated how rare they were, but in the environment of the ER, you couldn’t say you were surprised.

The rest of your shift did pass quickly, but not easily. Two gunshot victims passed under your care, though only one was serious, but not life-threatening. You heard from one of the nurses that Robby had lost a patient, a thirteen year old boy and your heart constricted. You had gone looking for him after that, finding him with the boy’s parents, their heart-wrenching cries making the ER go silent.

He had brushed you off each time you approached him after that, his once warm demeanor frozen over.

—

You met Michael at his apartment, picking up take-out on your way over, knowing you both barely had time to eat during your shift. Lately, your nerves had invaded you whenever you had gone to his place, and you tried to keep it buried deep. Something that had started out so easy had turned into a situation that turned your stomach into knots.

While he had been expecting you, he still stood stiff in the doorway. His brown hair was in his eyes, he moved a hand through the tousled mess atop his head, but his eyes were tense.

Trying to trade casual conversation over dinner, you kept your eyes on the hockey game on the television. Somehow not looking at him made it all worse — the tension in the room thick while you both stepped around the obvious. At least, until you couldn’t.

“Are you okay? I heard—”

“I’m fine.” He snapped, tossing his fork into the container of his food.

You raised your eyebrows at him. He didn’t shut down all the time, but he was a champion at deflecting, especially after you had gotten to know him. Likely due to the fact that now you knew him outside the ER, it was easier to see his tells: the twitch under his eye, the partial wince in his right cheek, the rubbing his neck. It was all easy enough to see that he was not okay.

“Michael…” I worry about you got stuck in your throat.

He let out a huff of air, “It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

Your stomach rolled, a small wince crossing your face. To be fair, you never opened up to him very much about your own stresses, or patients lost, but you just told yourself you compartmentalized well. The time at the hospital was completely separate from your personal life — which was why you never called him Robby outside hospital walls.

A rush of faces of the handful of patients you had lost flickered through your mind.

If you were so good at compartmentalizing, then why was emotion constricting your throat?

As if sensing your sudden shift of your mood, he grabbed your hand, “Look, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just don’t want to talk about it.”

You wanted to accept that, you really did — to keep that status quo, to ensure nothing changed between you.

“You really should.”

He scoffed, withdrawing his hand. “I’m not sure I should be taking advice from Queen ‘I don’t talk about anything personal ever’.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at his tone, “That’s not true.”

He rose to his feet, picking up his take-out container, “Right. What about when you lost your last patient? You shut me out for days.”

You got to your feet, pointing a finger at him, “That’s not fair! We’re talking about you right now, not me.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath as he stalked to the kitchen, “Aren’t we always.”

“Excuse me?” You followed after him, frustrated now.

“Whenever this shit comes up, you deflect—”

“I deflect?” You scoffed, “Watch out everyone, king of deflection is here.”

He went silent, narrowed eyes watching you. “Are you done?”

For whatever reason, that seemed to set you off more — nerves in your belly long forgotten. “I’m just getting started,” you told him. “What? You expect me to care about you and not make sure you’re okay?”

Your words hung in the air, heavy and with so much more meaning.

“I’m not doing this with you tonight.”

You took a step back, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. You felt like your heart had shattered — you knew pushing too hard too soon would fuck everything up.

“Fine.” You told him, moving to get your things. “See you at work, Robinavitch.”

You slammed the door behind you before you could see if he had made a move to protest. You were thankful he did not get to see your tears.

—

After a fitful night’s rest, you woke up feeling queasy. More queasy than any amount of nerves in the past had made you feel — and that was saying something. You nearly threw up on your first day as a first year resident.

You tried to calm your racing thoughts about the night before and Michael, but your heart still felt tight in your chest. You only suffered a bite of your breakfast before you gave up, deciding to just head into the hospital and face your day head on.

The early morning passed slowly, each moment flooded with the anxiety raging through your system. You had no idea what had made it this bad, and part of you wondered if you could convince your attending to send you home so you could try to sleep it off.

While tending to a young woman presenting with UTI symptoms, your stomach rolled uneasily. Your mouth watered, and the nausea did not relent. Quickly assuring the woman that her tests would be back shortly, you dashed to the nearest bathroom, ignoring a look of concern on the charge nurse’s face.

You thankfully made it into one of the stalls before you emptied the confines of your stomach. There was not much in it, and the bile burned your throat.

After a few moments, your stomach settled — just enough that you felt you could get back to work. Hunger ebbed its way in, which you found to be a relief from the queasy onslaught. You figured you would see what was in the staff lounge once you wrapped up with your patient.

Heading back to East 5, you grabbed the test results, eyes quickly scanning over her file. Pregnancy test and urine analysis, the urine coming back positive for e. coli. The pregnancy test also came back positive.

Damn, how were you going to break that to her? Pregnancy tests were more or less routine for most cases brought into the ER, to ensure medications given wouldn’t hurt the fetus.

You wondered if she knew already, or if it would come as a surprise.

When you presented her with the results, she took it well.

“I figured, honestly.” She told you. “My period was late and I’ve been feeling sick. I meant to take a test, but I wanted to figure out the UTI first.”

You smiled at her, “The antibiotics we’re prescribing will be pregnancy safe. Twice a day for seven days, with a meal. Stay hydrated, too. I’m also giving you something to relieve some of your discomfort. It’s a two day prescription, take three a day. I can give you one now, then you can take the next one in six hours.”

When you left, you stood at the charge desk for a few moments. When you spotted Robby writing up his charts, a thought struck through you. You were late, uncomfortably late, and add in the nausea this morning? You felt sick all over again.

You rushed back to the bathroom, but nothing came. You and Robby were always safe, but condoms broke, accidents happened. Fuck. You could feel your residency slipping through your fingers. You were still shaking when you made your way to the staff lounge.

Robby was there, taking in your appearance, “Are you alright?”

“We need to talk. Privately.” Was out of your mouth before you could think about it.

His eyebrows raised, “About last night—”

“No, not that,” though you thought it might be a good idea to discuss that, too. You glanced quickly towards the hall, moving to close the door. You stood still in front of it, words escaping you.

“Then what is it? What’s wrong?”

“I think I might be pregnant.” You told him in a whisper. “Possibly. Maybe.”

He blinked owlishly at you, “What?”

You didn’t know if he didn’t hear you or was still processing. “I didn’t even realize, I’m nearly a week late — and I’ve been sick all morning. I think it could be—I could be—” You couldn’t say it again, tears springing in your eyes.

It wasn’t necessarily career ending to have a kid during your residency, but the only person you had known that went off to have a baby as an R4 had not returned. She had told you she planned to come back, but also did not want to wait too long to start her family, tugged simultaneously in both directions. Could you make the sacrifices necessary to make both work? Did you even want both to work? Would Michael—

“We can—we can take a test. Yeah. Tonight, after shift.” He said, his brown eyes avoiding you, hands tucked into his pockets. “We can figure it out then.”

“Figure it out then?” You asked incredulously. “This could end my career! This could—oh god—” You moved to lean against the wall, clearing your throat, “You don’t have to—”

“I’ll be there.” He said, cutting you off, voice soft. “I’ll get a test and meet you at your apartment.”

“My roommate will be home, can we go to yours?”

“Yeah, I’ll grab the test on my way home. I’ll meet you there.”

You nodded your head, “Thank you.”

Part of you just wanted to get it over with, grab a test from the closet and take it right in the bathroom. You could be discreet, you wouldn’t even need to involve Michael, but part of you feared any number of your co-workers catching you with a test and no patient. That, and the fear of knowing crept into your mind.

—

The drive to his apartment was agonizing. Your stomach had not once stopped rolling, and you were distracted all day, nearly catching a left hook of a patient in withdrawal. So much for being good at that compartmentalization thing. Perhaps Michael was right — you deflected just as much as he did, or you just flat out ignored your feelings and buried them.

This whole situation was going to force you to vocalize your feelings, wasn’t it?

You waited in your car until Michael pulled in, and you felt like your limbs had grown heavier while you had waited. The weight of what could be awaiting you pushing all the air from your lungs.

Once inside, neither of you spoke. You just took the pharmacy bag from him and went into his bathroom. You stared at the box for what felt like forever, thinking it was funny how lines on a stick were going to determine your future. After using all three in the box — not wanting to risk a false positive or negative — you opened the door.

“Box says fifteen minutes.”

He nodded, checking his watch. He moved closer to you until you were crowded in his tiny bathroom. His eyes flickered to the countertop where all three tests sat on top of some toilet paper, before they met your gaze. You couldn’t hold it, looking back at your hands.

“Whatever it says, I’m not going anywhere.” His breath fanned your face, the scent of antiseptic still clinging to his scrubs. Underneath was the smell of his cologne, sandalwood and vanilla, and something unmistakably him. You missed when that scent of him clung to your skin, too.

You tried to smile, still not meeting his eyes. “It’s okay if you did. You don’t owe me anything.”

He tipped your chin up so you would look at him, “How could you say that after everything?”

“Last night,” you reminded him. “I clearly don’t know you and you don’t know me. Not personally anyways.”

Michael’s brow twitched. “What if I wanted to?”

Your mouth grew dry. “Please don’t. Not if it’s out of some misguided sense of duty over this.”

“It’s not.” He told you, hands moving to hold your face, his fingers finding the back of your head, thumbs on the sides of your cheeks. “I promise it’s not.”

You swallowed, cheeks burning, but you couldn’t find any words. The silence that used to hold the safety of quiet, now stood tense and firm between you.

“I’m shit at talking about my feelings and deflecting, you’re right. But I won’t stand here and pretend I don’t feel something for you. Like I don’t care about you. I—I just figured not talking about it was easier. But last night, it fucked me up; thinking we parted without you knowing how I felt.”

You sputtered a shocked intake of air, “What?”

His dark brown eyes held you steady, slowly absorbing your fears until you reached out to touch his chest. His heart pounded beneath your palm, but it steadied yours.

His gentle smile came easily, “I’ve been trying for weeks. I chickened out every time.”

You exhaled an amused breath of air, “You chickened out? I didn’t want to make this complicated.”

He searched your eyes, flickering between them like he was trying to read you.

“It’s kinda funny.” You said, smiling at him. “I’ve been trying to do the same thing all week.”

He kissed you, lips warm and soft, hands holding your face. His heart thumped below your hand, like an anchor in a storm, your other hand curling around his wrist. After all the anxiety of the day, and the anguish over the night previous, relief finally washed through your system. The familiarity of his beard scratching against your skin, his careful hands enveloping you in a sense of safety.

You moved just enough to speak, “I’m sorry about last night. You were right, too. I just never want to burden you with my problems after I know we both had a tough shift.” You told him, noses touching, breath intermingling.

“I want you to know that you can.” He stressed, thumb caressing your cheek.

“I will if you will.”

He smiled. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” He kissed you again, harder this time…hungry, his mouth taking in your bottom lip.

You lost yourself in the warmth of his body, the soft tendrils of his hair in your hands, the feel of his tongue in your mouth. You clung to him like he was a liferaft. It was easy to forget your troubles like this, worries of the day lifting off your shoulders.

Your blood pressure spiked when you remembered the tests on the countertop. You pulled away, breathing quickly, still wrapped up in his arms.

“What if it’s positive?” came your quiet voice.

“Then I suppose I’d have to marry you.”

You almost thought he was serious, if his tone hadn’t been so light, so close to a jest. You rolled your eyes, pushing him away, but you smiled. “I never took you for a traditionalist. A shotgun wedding, seriously?”

“Be a great way to meet your folks.” He added with a smirk.

“Get real.” You laughed, “As if I’d marry a resident. Are you even a real doctor?”

He mocked offense, but chuckled, bringing you closer to him again, “I’ve got my stethoscope and everything.” After a few beats of his heart, he added, “But seriously, we’d figure it out. Take time off, or…I don’t know. We’d make it work.”

“I don’t want to look.” You admitted to him.

“Whatever it says, we’re in this together.”

It was reassuring to hear him say it again. You nodded, removing your hands from his body and taking a small step back. You took a long breath, staring at him.

“On three?”

Your head bobbed in agreement, swallowing thickly.

“I mean it. Whatever it says, I still care about you. I want you in my life.” He told you earnestly.

“I want you in my life, too, Mike.”

He counted down slowly, holding your gaze. The anxiety returned, but he held you grounded beside him, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers.

Negative. Negative. Negative.

A singular line on each displaying that you were not pregnant.

You released the breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. Thank fuck, echoed in your head. The stress you had been under could explain away the lateness of your period, and the queasiness was explained easily by your anxiety. It seemed like those three little tests tied all your worries up in a neat little bow. You had been honest about your feelings, which took away the gnawing anxiety, Michael reciprocated your feelings and you weren’t pregnant.

He sighed in relief next to you, taking another long breath through his nose. “Well as much as I was looking forward to that shotgun wedding, maybe now we can take our time—”

You looked over at him, eyebrow quirked.

“—take you on a proper date first.”

You grinned at him, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

special shoutout to Dr Robby for getting me off my hiatus, first Companionship and now this lol

current tense fought me the whole way through this, which is weird considering I usually write in past tense. so if you saw a current tense error, no you didn’t.

[imreidswifey]

Hey can I request something about post!bau spencer x nerd!reader. Perhaps they’re met after he broke up with max and reader reminded him of his old self? thank you, have a good day x

𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐸𝐶𝐻𝑂 𝑂𝐹 𝑈𝑆

post!bau spencer x nerd!reader

w/c: 5k

a/n: sorry this took so long, I totally forgot about writing this but it's so cute and I love nerd reader cause I get to let out my inner geek💕

Spencer Reid had always been good at being alone. He wasn’t the type to feel restless in silence or uncomfortable in his own company. In fact, for most of his life, solitude had been a kind of refuge—a quiet space where he could get lost in books, theories, and the endless workings of his mind.

But now, sitting in a corner booth at his favorite coffee shop, staring into the depths of a cup he wasn’t even drinking, solitude felt different.

It felt empty.

Maybe that was the aftermath of leaving the BAU. Maybe it was the breakup with Max. Maybe it was something deeper—something that had been unraveling in him long before he even realized it.

The BAU had been his life for so long. A constant. A purpose. The thing that grounded him when everything else felt chaotic. And now that it was gone, Spencer wasn’t sure who he was supposed to be. He’d spent years chasing monsters, losing pieces of himself along the way, and now, without the cases, the flights, the endless adrenaline, he felt… untethered.

Teaching helped. He liked standing in front of a lecture hall, watching bright young minds absorb knowledge, asking the kinds of questions that reminded him why he loved learning in the first place. But it wasn’t the same.

And relationships? Well, those had never come easy for him.

Max had been good. Kind. Patient. But in the end, it wasn’t enough. Their breakup hadn’t been a dramatic, catastrophic thing—no yelling, no betrayal. Just the slow realization that they weren’t meant to last. That what they had wasn’t enough to hold them together.

And now, Spencer was here. Alone in a coffee shop. Wondering if this was just how life was supposed to be now.

Then he saw you

At first, it was nothing remarkable. Just another person tucked away in the café, immersed in a book. But something about the way you read caught his attention.

You weren’t just skimming the pages, mindlessly flipping through—you were absorbed. Your lips moved slightly, as if silently mouthing the words. Your fingers traced the edge of the paper, lingering just a second longer before turning each page, like you were savoring it.

It was such a small thing.

But it reminded him of himself.

Spencer had always loved watching people read. There was something intimate about it—the way a person’s whole world could shrink down to the size of a single book, lost in a reality that existed only in their mind.

He hadn’t seen anyone read like that in a long time.

Before he could stop himself, he spoke.

“Good book?”

You looked up, startled, blinking as if you were surfacing from another world. For a second, he worried he’d overstepped, but then your expression softened into a small, curious smile.

“The best,” you said, turning the cover toward him.

Spencer’s eyebrows lifted slightly. It was a lesser-known fantasy novel, one he hadn’t read in years. A book rich with poetic prose and layered themes, the kind of story that lingered in your mind long after you closed it.

“I haven’t read that since I was a teenager.”

Your smile widened. “Then you know how good it is. Every time I read it, I find something new.”

Spencer felt something shift. The same feeling he got when he encountered a particularly clever riddle or an unsolved puzzle—a pull of curiosity, an urge to know more.

It had been a long time since he’d met someone who spoke about books the way he did.

—

That should have been the end of it. Just a brief exchange between two strangers in a café.

But it wasn’t.

Somehow, you and Spencer kept crossing paths. At the bookstore, where you lingered in the classics section while he debated picking up a new philosophy book. At the park, where you sat under the same tree every afternoon, nose buried in a novel while he walked the path with his own book in hand. At the library, where you both reached for the same book at the exact same moment.

Each encounter led to another conversation. Each conversation lasted a little longer.

Spencer found himself drawn to you in a way he hadn’t expected. You weren’t just intelligent—you were curious. You asked questions that made him think, countered his arguments with ideas of your own, and listened—truly listened—when he spoke.

And somewhere along the way, something changed.

One evening, after another long conversation stretched past midnight, he found himself walking you home. The city was quiet, the air crisp with the beginnings of autumn.

“I like talking to you,” you admitted, hugging your book to your chest. “It’s been a long time since I met someone who loves words as much as I do.”

Spencer hesitated for only a moment before saying, “Me too.”

You smiled at him then, and he knew—knew in a way that was deeper than logic—that you were something special.

—

Spencer wasn’t sure when exactly it had become a date.

It had started as an innocent suggestion—dinner at a cozy, bookshop café downtown. But as he stood outside your apartment, adjusting the sleeves of his sweater, double-checking that he had the right restaurant reservation, and mentally reviewing every possible topic of conversation, he realized… this was a date.

And he was nervous.

It had been years since he’d been on a first date. Years since he’d felt this kind of anticipation—the hopeful, anxious, heart-racing kind.

When you opened the door, smiling up at him with that same warmth he’d come to recognize, his nerves settled just a little.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Lead the way.”

Dinner was perfect in its simplicity. The café was small and intimate, the air rich with the scent of coffee and old books. You sat across from each other, sipping tea, letting conversation flow as naturally as it always did.

At one point, you asked, “What was your favorite book as a kid?”

Spencer hesitated, debating between several answers, before finally settling on one. “A Wrinkle in Time.”

Your eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s a classic! Let me guess—you loved the science elements?”

“I did. But more than that, I liked the idea that intelligence and love weren’t mutually exclusive. That knowledge didn’t have to make you cold—that it could make you better.”

You stared at him for a long moment before saying, “That’s beautiful.”

Something in the way you said it made Spencer’s chest tighten.

After dinner, you strolled through the city, the conversation shifting from books to life to childhood memories.

At one point, you turned to him and said, “You know, I was really nervous before tonight."

Spencer blinked. “You were?”

You nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I was worried it would be different. That talking to you would feel… forced, now that this is a date.”

He exhaled a quiet laugh. “I was worried about that too.”

“And?”

Spencer met your gaze, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I think this might be the best first date I’ve ever had.”

You beamed. “Me too.”

As the night came to a close, Spencer walked you to your door, hands tucked into his pockets. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel lost.

Because, somehow, without even realizing it, he’d found his way back to himself.

And he’d found you.