#every second he was on stage i felt like i couldn't look away

[bungee-gum-b1tch]

thinking about jon robyns' phantom again

[reidrum]

porcelain doll | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

a/n: writers block is a bitch fr but somehow this came out! i just wanna say that if you relate to reader or just have qualms in general about intercourse that its okay and its normal and you're still a wonderful human being at the end of the day ok that is all i love you mwah

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, fingering, making out, no p in v sex but talks about it, reader has an ambiguous reason for it hurting cuz there are like so many gdm reasons it can hurt it's ridiculous, hurt/comfort, fluff, afab reader, spencer is a loving and supportive boyfriend, i proofread this once sorry

summary: you'd been keeping quiet about something personal that you knew you should tell spencer but just couldn't find the right time for, but now it's all come to a head in a hot heat of the moment and you're forced to confront it

wc: 2.6k

_______________________________________________

you meant to tell spencer about it when you first started dating.

it’s not something that comes up to discuss in a natural context, like over coffee or at work. by the time you and spencer had actually started dating, you hoped there would be a quiet moment where you could tell him, but even when soft moments came and went your anxiety was the ruling emotion and prevented you from telling him.

that brings you to this moment right now— you straddled over spencer’s lap on his couch with your arms around his neck, his on your waist, wildly kissing him. you had just come home from the bar with the girls, and spencer couldn’t help himself with how pretty you looked as he pulled you to the couch and perched you on his lap.

still being in the somewhat early stages of your relationship, your intimacy with him never went past making out, with you most of the time tapping out after getting too overwhelmed. and spencer always respected your boundaries.

don’t get it wrong, you both still had a lot of fun when things got heated. if you could kiss him every second of the day you would. but being able to feel how much fun he was having always left a pang of guilt in your heart after always stopping. he’d always be heavily panting, trying so hard to hide the discomfort in his pants, and the most you could do in return was dissociate and live in false ignorance about it. it didn’t help that he still so devastatingly kind to you after.

but here you were on his couch tonight, and something felt different. a desire you hadn’t felt before taking over your senses as your bodies intertwined. it’s like every time you’re with him, he makes you almost forget all the insecurities that eat away at you.

almost.

spencer moves his mouth down your neck, leaving a trail of hot love bites before he finds your sweet spot. you angle your head more so he can get better access, and moan out at how fucking good it feels.

he moves his hand to the waist of your shorts, looks up at you silently asking for permission to remove them. you nod and he maneuvers them off, returning to straddle him. his hands move to knead the flesh where your hips meet your thighs, every movement delicate and intentional. it’s like with every touch he transfers his love for you through his fingertips to drive you absolutely crazy.

you subconsciously grind down on him, putting a pressure he wasn’t expecting as he groans lowly in your ear, “fu-uck.” it warms your heart a little, knowing the effect you have on him. your hands tangle in hair and pull firmly letting spencer moan into your mouth as he moves a hand further down your body.

“this okay still?” he breathlessly asks as he toys with the lining of your panties.

you nod again, not trusting your words at the moment. a sinking feeling starts to brew in your gut, as you can easily predict where the next events are going. he’s being so kind to you, and you feel sexy with the way he’s eating you alive with his eyes and touches. the guilt would chip you away if you had led him on this long only to stop right before the good part, just because you couldn’t handle it or something.

but he starts to stroke you outside your panties, and you have to admit that it feels vaguely good. you continue to bury your head in the crook of his neck in the hopes of masquerading any facial expressions contradictory to your words. you just want spencer to feel good, and this is the first step to reaching that goal.

spencer takes the soft breaths blowing in his ear as a sign to keep going, and hooks a finger on the cloth to pull it aside. he runs a single digit up and down your slit, swiping by your entrance to gather the wetness to spread around. when he circles back to give your clit attention you shakily moan out his name and his arm grips you tighter around your waist. you feel his finger descend again and prods around for the entrance again before gently sliding in.

the last five minutes you had been praying repeatedly and silently in your head, please let it be different this time, please don’t let me ruin this perfectly great relationship, please let my body just do what it’s meant to do.

but your prayers are left unheard, and all you can feel is hot, burning pain.

it tears through you, a feeling incomparable to walking on fire rocks even. it’s overwhelming, all consuming, things you would typically describe a normal sexual experience but here your body was, in a cruel twist of fate by being on the complete opposite end of that spectrum.

most of all, it just fucking hurts. point blank, you don’t see it subsiding anytime soon. you hoped the sentiment of making this good for spencer would overtake the signals being sent to your pain receptors. but it doesn’t, it actually intensifies the emotional pain in your heart that you know will weigh on you once this is over.

spencer being the darling lover he is holding you so gently, and yet instead your body betrays his gentle loving touches and receives them with malice. 

how dare you?

after a couple minutes, you can’t take it anymore. the panic starts to rise in your chest— from the pain, the guilt, all crashing down like an avalanche preparing to leave you stranded in the rubble.

“spencer…” you grit out.

“yeah baby?” he hums.

“can we-, i think i need to…” you strain. the pain is spreading throughout your body like a forest fire, uncontainable and devastating.

spencer slows his ministrations and pulls back a little, noticing the faint red rings forming in your eyes from the unshed tears, “hey, what’s wrong?” he pulls out his finger complete, subtly wiping it on his pants (which you’ll gawk at later because, who is this man?). even after the removal it’s left you scorned, and you feel it breaking your resolve fast.

“are you okay?” spencer tries to peer into your eyes again, voice laced with worry and dread.

you open your mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. you’re in shock, you think. and you’re feeling a lot of emotions, too many emotions all huddled up in your head begging for control.

spencer sits still below you deeply concerned and confused, “sweetheart, what’s going on?” he desperately tries one more time.

you think your brain has finally settled on what to feel.

mortification.

you squeeze your eyes shut, harshly rubbing them with sweaty hands, “i’m okay, i’ll be right back.” and you don’t give him time to rebuttal as you swing off him and bolt to the bathroom in record speed. after you shut the door and lock it, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. and then everything else falls out too.

your arms clutch your stomach in distress as the panic settles in you, sliding down the wall as you sit on the floor with your knees tucked under your chin. tears blur your vision, and the deep breaths are counterintuitive as they seem to make you more and more lightheaded.

a faint knocking seems to cast a line to bring you back down, and another firmer knock solidifying it.

spencer softly says your name, “can we talk? i just want to know that you’re okay.”

a pang of guilty shoots up your heart and you let out a big sniffle inadvertently, and spencer finds an unknowingly matching pang shooting up his own heart.

“i’m sorry if i hurt you, sweetheart.”

that was the final blow, and you fully begin to sob on the bathroom floor. how selfish of a person were you to let him feel guilty for something that was entirely your fault?

“you didn’t do anything,” you say between cries, “i’m just, being weird.”

spencer isn’t convinced, “will you let me in?” he says softly.

you contemplate the outcomes. he comes in, you tell him about your irregularity, he gets upset with you for not telling him and because you don’t work. or you don’t let him in, he gets upset with you and your stubbornness, deciding it’s no longer worth it to deal with you and he leaves.

solid choices, you think.

swiping at the tears falling still, you think you can’t feel any lower than you do right now. so you reach up and unlock the door but don’t move to open it.

he hears the click of the lock turning and knows he has to open the door. the handle turns and spencer pokes his head through, “i’m coming in, okay?”

you don’t respond, your head still finding solace in your bunched up knees. you faintly hear the door creak open and a figure move in.

if spencer’s heart wasn’t clenching before, someone’s now got it in a death grip with how distraught you look is making him feel. he doesn’t enter your bubble, he doesn’t feel it’s appropriate at the moment. instead he sits in the open doorway, hoping it offers you a comfortable space to know that he’s there but not enough to overwhelm you.

you both sit in silence for what feels like forever, spencer knows it’s ten minutes and thirty two seconds, when you let out the smallest and faintest, “i’m sorry.”

“you didn’t do anything,” he immediately says, itching to move closer to you, “i just want to know what happened, angel.”

your eyes scrunch up in frustration, “ugh, it’s not-“ you falter, this was not how you pictured this conversation going.

he waits for you to continue. “i have this…thing.” you start.

“thing..?”

why does it feel so embarrassing to say out loud, he has three phds and hunts serial killers this cannot be the worst thing he’s heard.

it’s definitely the most vulnerable though.

you turn your body 180 degrees so you’re not facing him, thinking it would be easier to confess to him if he’s not staring you down, “when i like, put things down there… it hurts.”

“what kind of hurt?”

“it’s like a…really intense pain. that doesn’t go away.”

spencer ponders for a couple seconds, “is that what happened a couple minutes ago?”

you nod your head into your knees, letting the fresh hot tears wet your kneecaps. it’s humiliating.

he inches closer, “angel, did you think i was going to be mad?”

you sniffle, “are you not?”

a tentative hand rests on your back, “not at all,” he whispers, “i was just really worried about you.”

worried. people have been angry, apathetic, even sad (for themselves) when you told them. but never worried.

you suppose spencer reid has always been different, defying any preconceptions anyone previous had imposed on you. he always offered you kindness and love when you couldn’t find any for yourself. it was unfair, how much he loved you, and how you couldn’t show him how much you loved him back.

you clear your throat, “it just makes me feel…broken? to not be able to do the one thing my body is made to do. in the past it’s been a dealbreaker for a lot of people, and understandably so.”

spencer has moved to sit in front of you, inches away. he reaches a hand up to push a tendril of hair behind your ear, letting his palm rest upon your jaw. his eyes hold nothing but love, and he waits patiently for you to continue.

“i’m really sorry i didn’t say anything, i meant to tell you when we first started dating,” your voice gets higher as the emotion floods your throat, “but everything was going so good, i didn’t want to ruin it.”

you add one final blow before receding, “i thought when i told you, i would offer you an out to go sleep with some other girl just so you could have that experience.” you lament.

spencer lets your words sit in the air for a few moments before softly saying, “can i hold you?” 

he thinks it’s better to have you in his arms before he talks, because as much as his words could comfort you he thinks it can’t hurt for you to feel physically held together after all that’s torn you down.

if he wasn’t watching you so intently he would’ve missed the faint nod you give him. you’re scooped into his embrace with your head tucked under his chin and into his neck. he has one hand supporting your back and the other drawing letters into your thighs, and leans his chin to rest atop your head.

“first of all, please don’t ever feel like you have to ‘offer me an out’, especially for things that are really serious like this.”

“but it’s not fai-“ you try to argue.

“no. you can’t do that. you won’t do that. i don’t care what you’ve been told in the past, but loving and having you means holding every part of you, especially the ones you try to hide. i am not here to pick and choose what i want.”

he holds you the way you would a porcelain doll, achingly beautiful yet terrifyingly fragile.

“my sweet girl, you are not broken. i promise. penetration is not the end all for sex, and it’s not the only way to have sex. studies show that 75% of women feel pain during penetration, sometimes it can be related to stress or anxiety, which i’m sure on top of all that you deal with, that me leaving for cases all the time can’t help.”

he cups your cheek with his warm palm and angles your face to meet his eyes.

“what matters to me the most is that you feel good, and if you don’t feel good then it’s not worth doing in the first place.” he whispers, “if this is something you want to work on in the future, i will be there to help and support you however i can. but if you don’t want to do anything, i will still be there to support you. always. there is no dealbreaker for me, you are it.”

with red stained eyes you look up at him, “are you sure?”

“i’m sure,” he reinforces, “i love you. i don’t think a version of me exists where i am not loving you. you occupy an embarrassingly large amount of my brain, and there’s a lot of stuff in there.” you giggle and spencer feels flowers blooming in his chest.

you sigh and wrap your arms tighter around him, “i love you too, spence.”

you both sit in silence, basking in each others presence.

“you looked so beautiful tonight, i don’t think i told you when you came home.” he softly speaks, stroking your hair.

fiddling with a button on his shirt you reply, “thank you, honey. penny told me to buy that dress, said it’d drive you insane.”

he breathes out, “she was right. i don’t even know if i said anything to you, i was borderline delirious seeing you come home to me.”

you lean up to place a smiley kiss on his neck, “i’ll always come home to you, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“i think i’ll be having you forever.”

“woah,” you smirk, “that sounds borderline stalkerish. better be careful, my boyfriend’s an fbi agent.” 

spencer’s eyes narrow, “i could probably take him.”

“eh.”

“eh?”

[luveline]

PLEASE IM BEGGING I WILL SELL MY FAMILY FIR THIS

More flirty bombshell reader but Spencer was just let out of prison and now instead of just getting all hot and bothered he flirts back 😼

Love you and your writing pooks 😏😚🫶🏾

love you! fem, 1.1k

This has been the longest eighty four days of your life. Not even three months apart and yet it's felt as long and arduous as three years, and so you do what you must on the day Spencer is released from Milburn; you take your time putting yourself back together, preening and polishing, as pretty as you've ever looked. 

Penelope looks good too, JJ as well. The girls are here to represent, and that's without mentioning Luke's general unbelievable physique. 

You're pissed at being left outside but you can manage. You can cope. You don't think Penelope, bless her huge heart, is going to fight you for Spencer's attention. Not for a good five seconds. What to say first? I miss you, I love you, I'm so fucking sorry I let this happen, that I couldn't do more. 

He appears behind a grate door, Luke at his side. Then the grate is opening, JJ with tears in her eyes behind him, and every idea of what to do goes out the window. 

Your breath catches before he's so much as touched you. 

"Hey," you say. It starts well, ends weak, tears in your eyes as you choke, "hey, handsome." 

"Hey," he says, hugging you with more care than you're expecting. "Oh my god, hey." He lets out a sigh of relief, his face dipping down to press against your shoulder. You feel the familiar curve of his nose and hold your breath to stop from crying.

You let him go a selfish ten seconds later, but Spencer keeps your hand as he hugs Penelope, one-armed. It's awful and selfish and you don't care, you go in for the second hug on tiptoes, arms behind his neck, your mouth pressed as high as you can reach on his face. A mess of lip gloss is left behind when they finally crowbar you off of him long enough to get in the car, and even then you're clinging to his hand, worried someone will take him again, that you won't be able to do a thing about it. 

You wrap your arms around his and hug him on the drive back. You can't stop looking up into his face. Spencer, unflinching, meets you there, his eyes a little glassy, his face sallow but getting better. 

"Missed me?" you ask quietly. You've only so much privacy. 

"So much." 

"Like a hole in the head?" 

Spencer leans down an inch. "No, like, I really missed you." 

"Of course you did, you–" Spencer leans down suddenly and disarms you, his breath warm against your cheek. 

"I what?" he asks, kissing your cheek. 

"You haven't been away from me that long in years," you breathe. 

"It took getting used to," he says agreeably, speaking low, his breath hotter still as he kisses upward. Two kisses, that's all they are, but when he sits straight again you're thrown. 

"But you got used to it?" 

"No," he says, smiling at you like you've made a funny joke rather than thinly veiled insecurity spoken in a desperate attempt to garner some reassurance. 

It was difficult coping with the hurt of his having left you in the dark. You knew he was doing something he shouldn't have been, but you never for a moment imagined this outcome. You worried (deep down, and not for his ears) that he'd met someone new, that he'd grown disinterested in your years of love and life. Of you. Especially as he's matured, which is to say he stopped looking like he was about to walk the stage at New York Fashion week and started dressing sharp as a tack. Your Spencer stayed yours, but he got older, and you did too —you look older. You're still yourself, high maintenance, prideful, sweet, but you're not the same. 

Between the distance that bloomed with his secrecy and his growing maturity, you were caught off guard. And then not long after he was arrested in Mexico and you couldn't get him out no matter what you did, or who you begged for help. 

Spencer brings his hand to your cheek, tilting your head one way slowly, and then the other. There's confidence in his touch that you've felt before, just never to this extent. 

What happened to you? you think. 

"I'm sorry," he says. 

"For what, sweetheart?" you ask, meaning it implicitly. He's your sweetheart. He's everything. You're too high on his return to want an apology. 

"For everything. I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you." 

There's something you can work with. "Oh, you will?"

"I promise." 

Mindful of your friends in the front seats, you press your cheek into his hand, turning your head just enough to touch your lips to his palm. His eyes are dark brown where they meet yours, pupil and iris one and the same. "How?" you murmur. 

Spencer brushes his thumb against your bottom lip. Something in his eyes speaks even as he stays quiet, a light, an amusement, as if to say, I know exactly what you're doing, but it won't work. 

I'm not a saint, you say back with a sheepish smile. You close your eyes and let your head fall into his shoulder. He hugs you close despite the lack of room, his chin landing atop your head gently. "You'll have to try harder," he whispers. 

"Don't know what you mean." 

"Months of missing you and the first thing you do is try to torture me." 

"That's our thing." 

"No, our thing is me worshipping the ground you walk on," he says into your hair, hand squeezing as it roves up your arm, reassuring himself that you're there, that you're real. 

"Like I wouldn't do the same if you'd let me. I would've done anything." He probably can't hear you anymore, your voice a suggestion of sound. "I would've done anything if I thought it would…" get you back to me.

Spencer does you a favour of ignoring you. Later, you know he'll bring it up again. You'll have time, because he's going home. For now he does his best to hold you together in the company of others, always thinking about what you need. "You look so pretty today. Is that for me?" 

"I always look pretty." You haven't felt it lately.

"I know. Maybe it's because I didn't see you for so long… It's like seeing you again for the first time." 

Your chest aches in a strangely nice way. "And how are you coping, handsome?" 

He rests his cheek on your forehead. On paper, you're flirting. In actuality, you're being one hundred percent honest with each other. "I'm not. My blood pressure has gotta be 180 over 110 right now."

"I love it when you talk medical to me." 

"I love you." 

You nose at his suit sleeve ineffectually "I love you." 

[misskingshit]

𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘵 summary: where he has an interest in a certain pop singer, and he doesn't try to hide it. note: believe me or not i’ve been listening hip hop since Im like 15 y/o, soooo why not do an M&M’s fic?? Let me know if u want part 2! xoxo

The lyrics of Mr Eminem's new song being mostly about you? That was something you definitely didn't expect.

I get so weak on my knees

Lose all control

Damn, her silhouette

So hot

Fuck bein’ a gentleman

I'm going to fuck her instead

The red carpet at the Grammys has always been a dream for you, you had already won a couple of awards, today... you were excited to be the presenter of one of them.

Best Rap Album.

To say you were excited is an understatement.

You've loved this genre of music since you were a teenager, Tupac, Fifty, Snoop...to name the most classics.

The camera flashes were the only thing you saw, accompanied by many voices that stunned your ears just by hearing your name.

"Y/N! over here!" A reporter called you, without hesitation, you approached.

"Hey how are you?" you asked with a big smile.

"Incredible! How are you? I imagine you're very excited for tonight" he smiles.

"Don't even mention it! I can't wait to call the winner on stage!"

"Do you think Eminem is nominated? He's been on everyone's mouth lately with his latest song..."

Here we go.

"Yeah... well, I'm sure he'll be nominated, I mean, he's fucking Eminem, it would be like a sin if he wasn't, right?" You laughed a little awkwardly.

"What do you think about his last song, about his comments towards you? 50% of people are upset calling Eminem a degenerate..." you didn't let him finish speaking.

"Well...I really like him, I mean, I've always been his fan and it's an honor to be named in one of his songs. Plus I also think that...we all know how he's like, if you don't like his way to be, to think, to speak, the lyrics of his songs, just don't listen to it and that's it, problem solved, I don’t see the point in hating so much on something you can just...ignore" you laugh looking at the camera "Just take things more lightly, not everything is fighting and bad intentions."

You finished your conversation with said reporter and simply headed to your designated seat.

On the other hand, a certain blonde boy was also being attacked with questions regarding his controversial lyrics.

"She's here? Shit, I want to see her," the blonde rapper said, showing a small, very small, smile, turning his head around with the intention of catching some sign of the hot pop singer, you.

"Yes! In fact she will be the one to present the award for best rap album!"

"No shit! Damn man she's here" Em turned around and said to his best friend, Proof.

In a few minutes everyone finished settling into their seats and you both were surprised when you looked at each other, just a few seats away.

You were five seats to the right and three to the back, so you caught him every time he turned his head back a little to look and smile at you.

Until, soon...your moment had arrived, you got up from your seat to head backstage.

By the way, when you walked past the rapper, he didn't try to hide the fact that he couldn't take his eyes off you for even a second.

"And the Grammy goes to..." you created some tension "EMINEN!" You blurted out the name more excited than you should have.

The rapper's reaction might not have been very expressive normally, but he couldn't contain his smile when he knew who would be the one giving to him his award. The rapper and his friends got on stage and it was inevitable that you felt nervous as you watched him walk towards you, with a playful look, as if he knew what he generated in you.

"Congratulations," you whispered when he was close enough to you, taking the grammy as you felt the soft brush of his fingers against yours, he did it on purpose.

You didn't expect him to give you a hug.

"That's all I get?" He whispered back to you, keeping your faces close and your noses touching, his hands on your waist pulling you closer to him as if he didn't want to move away from you.

A great bustle from the public was heard, and it took them both out of the small cloud in which they were.

This was definitely going to stir the waters.

You both walked away, while you greeted and congratulated the rest of his friends (Proof winking at you in the process).

"Wow, shit, this is crazy, thank you so much to everyone who made the production of this album possible, Dr Dre, who always had my back, I will be forever grateful...and my god, damn, thanks to whoever the fuck is that put this beauty in that dress..." he turned to look at you and winked "Y/N Y/L/N ladies and gentlemen, the source of my inspiration for Heat Seeker"

Obviously, you blushed.

The entire audience was applauding, probably already starting to gossip among themselves about the little show between you and Eminem.

Like a gentleman he offered you his hand as he watched you walk down the steps of the stage with great caution. "Thank you," you whispered. “Any time” he smiles at you.

´Til the end of the awards you continued to connect glances from time to time, you also noticed how his friends bothered him every time he turned his head to look at you.

"Hey, Y/N! wait!" listen to yourself behind your back. "Hey," you looked at him softly, "whats up?" He shook his head quickly. "I just wanted to…I mean, normally I wouldn't give a shit, but, I wanted to make sure that the song didn't offend you, it wasn't to upset you…" You interrupted his attempt to apologies "Don't worry, I understand it was just the song, I didn't take it personally, actually, I loved it" you laughed. "You did? I'm glad you're not like the rest and laugh instead of being offended." His attempt to hide his smile failed completely.

It just slips away from him.

Just with you.

A few seconds of silence took over the situation, though it wasn't uncomfortable, your eyes connected and you didn't seem to realize that you had been staring at each other. "Uhm, I was about to go to my hotel," you pointed behind you, "I was gonna change for the afterparty."

"Can I go with you?" He asked you, but before you processed the fact that he wanted to go with you to your hotel, he interrupted your thoughts "I mean, just so then we can go to the party together, if you want" he scratched the back of his neck.

You didn't even need to think about it "Yeah, I would like that" you smiled.

The two of you walked together towards your limo, captured by several cameras, so neither of you doubted that tomorrow you would wake up to a bunch of articles about how Eminem and Y/N left the Grammy's together. But none of you care about it.

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Missing Matchmaker Merle

Warnings: Smut, degradation, minor alcohol consumption, unprotected p in v, NO use of (Y/N)

Summary: You and Daryl distract each other from missing Merle.

Notes: Wanted to try the idea of Daryl thinking he wants super rough sex, but he finds out he doesn't really like it that much when you indulge in it. GIF found from Pinterest from user vallie

Taking a hot shower was something you used to take for granted. But after arriving at the CDC and having the chance to not only clean, but sanitize yourself, you made every second count. You even fucking shaved. 

When you heard Jenner would also be serving dinner, you could've thrown up in excitement.

“C'mon, quit actin’ like a pussy and drink.” 

You rolled your eyes at the redneck's words, but shrugged and waved him forward anyway. He grinned in success and filled a cup with red wine, nearly spilling it on your chest with the way he shoved it towards you.

The shift in the atmosphere the last few hours had been remarkable. Not too long ago you were in the first stages of accepting your possible demise, standing behind Shane and Daryl as they fought to get Rick away from the doors. Now here you sat between Carol and Daryl, drinking some of the best wine you'd ever tasted, enough food on your plate to fill your stomach the way it was meant to be. 

You barely heard Daryl whisper beside you over the happy chatter of your group. “Watch, he's gonna turn all red, Koreans all got an allergy to alcohol.” 

You couldn't help but break into a grin at that, shaking your head in amusement. He looked too excited for you to correct him so you just chuckled, and tried not to fall from your chair when he playfully elbowed you in your side. 

The sight of Lori and Shane in the little library foiled your plans to read before bed. You only watched for a second, it looked like they were arguing, trying to keep their voices down despite their frustration. 

You rolled your eyes and turned on your heels, annoyed you'd have to settle on something in the rec room. 

As soon as you turned the corner to walk down the hall, you bumped into a chest so hard you lost your balance. Their hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, and when you heard that teasing southern accent you immediately felt your mood lifting. 

“That wine make you blind? You Korean too?” He snickered as he helped you right yourself. 

It was incredibly refreshing to see Daryl in that light. He was in a great mood, not drunk but buzzed enough to keep a grin on his face. 

“Fucking Shane and Lori's in there.” You grumbled playfully, crossing your arms in exaggerated annoyance. 

“Huh, what're they doin’?” His voice lowered to a nosey whisper and he nudged you back to peek around the corner. He immediately pulled back, bumping into you again, a look of disgust on his face. “Fuckin’ white trash. Actin’ like Rick ain't right down the hall.” 

That had you turning into a nosey busybody and you went to see what he was talking about, but he had already nudged your shoulder in the other direction to the bedroom halls. 

“C'mon, let's go do somethin’.” He didn't wait for an answer as he continued using his body to guide you down the hallway, reminding you of a sheepdog, which amused you to no end. 

“Like what?” You smirked as he shouldered you into one of the rec rooms. There were a few loveseats, bean bag chairs, a long couch and endless shelves of things. Board games, card games, sketch books and those really expensive high quality colored pencils, markers, you name it. You could spend the rest of your life in this room and die happy. 

“Hell, I don't know.” He shrugged and went to look through the shelves. You watched him in the doorway, your lip tightening at the side when you realized he was desperate to take his mind off Merle. Shit, you were too. You missed the fuck out of Merle Dixon. You'd grown extremely close to him, he wordlessly accepted your vulnerability of being the black sheep and Daryl related to it. They treated you like some weird adopted family member that one playfully flirted with and the other jerked off to. 

“Wanna play uno? I'm suspiciously good at it.” You finally shut the door and walked over to him with crossed arms, aware of the way he tensed when you got closer. 

“Uno? The fuck? Hell no.” He scoffed and aggressively flipped through the games on the shelf. “This is like some fucked up retirement center.”

“What'd you expect? An Xbox full of two player games?” You watched as he pretended to read the back of a card game box. 

“Psh. I don't know. Let's go fuck with Glenn -”

You grabbed his wrist before he could rush past you and laughed. “Leave the poor kid alone. He's gonna be so fucking sick tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, I guess. Threw up on my couch.” He muttered, remembering the way he'd had to drag Glenn to the couch in his temporary bedroom. 

“Course he did. You kept pouring wine down the kids' throat.”

You had a few minutes of friendly banter, suggested uno again, he suggested strip poker, you suggested skipping the poker, and soon you were grinding against his knee behind some of the book shelves.

“I want it dirty. Want it raw.” He huffed as he feverishly unbuckled his belt. “F-fuck, you're so hot.”

You grinned and leaned in to bite his bottom lip, earning a delicious whimper from him. You dug your teeth down harder and pulled back, feeling his dick twitch obscenely against your hip. 

“Want it dirty, yeah?” You drawled and kissed down his neck, switching between biting and biting hard. 

“Yeah.” He breathed and fucked his hand, clutching onto your hair with his other. “You think,” he faltered as you bit down on his nipple, his words spilling into various curses and slang you couldn't understand. “Shhh-fuck” His voice cracked in a way that was absolutely fucking adorable to you. “Y’think, you could, on top-”

“Yeah, I can do that.” You made your way back up to his neck, reaching to unbutton the rest of his shirt, but he stopped you. You didn't question it, you just sat him down on one of the loveseats and climbed in his lap. 

You looked over your shoulder at the door, even though it was shut anyone could just walk in, but Daryl grabbed your chin and forced you back against his mouth. 

You fucking loved the way he kissed. It was so hot and sloppy, his tongue diving everywhere in your mouth, licking every spot he could reach. When you pulled back to breathe, the skin around your lips felt wet, just another thing to make your pussy wetter. Daryl Dixon being so messy and dirty drove you insane. 

“I like the way you kiss me,” you slurred, your hands sliding up your pajama shirt to grope your own breasts. “Who would've thought you were such a needy whore.”

“Can you blame me, woman? Shit.” He thrusted up against you as he admired your form over him, your lips parted and your hair in your face, you looked hotter than every single pornstar he'd ever seen. He came harder to you than Sasha Grey. 

You maneuvered out of your pajama pants and slipped back in his lap, sliding your pussy against his throbbing cock. 

“Fuckin’ goddamnit.” He sputtered and grabbed hold of your hips for dear life. He rolled up in sync with you, nearly cumming when he saw the way his head would push through your folds each time your hips slid back. 

It was easier to get him inside you with you on top, you didn't need to worry about him slamming into you like last time. You took your time, enjoying the way he curled his upper lip in frustration, his eyes locked on the way his dick disappeared up inside you. 

“Fuck.” You drew your word out as you finally sat down on him, his dick sticking you like a skewer. 

You opened your eyes when you felt him grabbing your right wrist. He brought it up to his throat with no hesitation, a new boldness filling him that you didn't expect. 

You scoffed and laughed, the sound making his hips jerk roughly up into you. You obliged though, grabbing hold of his thick throat and squeezing. 

The situation you found yourself in was something you could easily get used to. You leaned back, keeping yourself upright with your grip on his neck. You rolled your hips in a way that served you, using Daryl's dick to get off. The way you fucked him was completely foreign to him, he'd never seen anything like this in the tapes he'd steal from Merle. 

You moaned when he bucked into you, and you had to take a moment to steady yourself. You released his neck and grabbed his chin, your thumb slipping between his teeth, holding him like a hooked fish. He looked up at you through his lashes and bit down gently, his hips rolling slower now. 

“You're a fucking mess.” You hissed with a smirk, looking down at your work proudly. Now he was the one who needed to be in a filthy magazine. His cheeks and lips red, his eyes half lidded and dark, his teeth bared and biting on your thumb. He was sweating like crazy and you were impressed he hadn't come yet, must've been the wine. “God I missed your dick.”

You weren't sure how it happened but soon you were pressed against the wall, your thighs wrapped around his back and his dick rearranging your insides. You couldn't moan even if you wanted, he was so rough and fast that all you could do was gasp in each breath, your eyes rolled back and your mouth hanging open. 

His thrusts slowed and he pulled back from biting your neck to nip the side of your jaw, making your eyes roll back to focus. 

“Slap me.”

Your words didn't register to him for a second. He lifted his head and furrowed his brows in confusion, although his rough thrusts didn't even budge. 

“C'mon, you wanted it dirty, didn't you?” You sneered, and a book fell from the shelf next to you when your head thudded back against the wall after a deep thrust.

He went to speak, but he only let out a long breath, and that's when his thrusts started to slow. “The hell you want that for?” 

You were caught off guard by the look on his face. He looked equally confused and almost… insulted? Hurt? 

“Cause it feels really fucking good. Hey, you don't have to, alright?” Your breathing came back under your control when his thrusts stopped altogether. 

You could tell you upset him. You slid your legs from his waist until your toes touched the floor, and his dick slipped out of you. 

“Hey, it's okay, alright?” You reached to touch his chin but he tilted his head away, no longer looking confused, moreso disappointed. 

You bit your bottom lip and thought. He was in no state to make any further moves so you made it for him. You pulled your clothes back on and took him to his bedroom, making sure to close and lock the door. You turned the lights off and laid him down on the bed before climbing on top of him. 

“I just wanna make you feel good, can I do that?” You murmured softly, sitting on his lap and stroking his cheek. 

That seemed to get to him and he gave in, nodding once without meeting your gaze.

“Just tell me to stop and I will.” You promised and kissed down his cheek, deciding against being rough with him the way you were before. 

“Never gonna hear me say that.” He snorted and intertwined his fingers in your hair, gentle, something you hadn't experienced with him. It was like a switch was flipped and he was a completely different man. 

Daryl melted under you as you worked him over with soft touches and kisses. You took your bottoms back off and took his dick back out, giving him a few strokes to get him hard again. You wasted no time in slipping him inside you, thankful there was little resistance with how wet you had become. 

You settled down on him, placing your hands on his chest to balance yourself, your fingers pinching the buttons on his shirt as a way to ground yourself. His dick sent you to other places. 

You fucked him slow, taking the time to feel and appreciate each time his tip rubbed against your sweet spot. He breathed noisily under you, giving the occasional grunt or quiet whine, his hands resting on your hips. 

Flipping your hair to one side over your shoulder, you leaned down and kissed him. You led this time, just moving your lips against his, slow and deep and without the use of your teeth, no matter how badly you wished to hear him whimper. 

He sat up and wrapped his arms around your back to turn you over, somehow managing to keep his lips on yours the entire time. 

You felt your muscles sigh in relief when he laid you on your back in the soft bed. You let out a soft happy breath when he slid his hands up your sides, content in just stroking your skin. He wasn't fucking you then, it was something different. If you were stupid you'd call it making love. He thrusted deep and slow, his hips moving on their own accord. Each time he plunged back in he'd exhale deeply through his nose, tickling the skin of your upper lip. 

Daryl was the one to break the kiss, he leaned back on his heels to look down at you.

“So damn pretty.” He mumbled, his eyelids struggling to stay open. If he wasn't drunk on the wine he was drunk on you and this new way of having you, a way he never even considered. This was it, he thought, this is how he wanted to have sex for the rest of his life. Swallowing each other whole, touching and caressing every inch of skin. 

His eyelids didn't feel so heavy when he saw you suck in a deep breath. Your eyes closed and you grabbed at your hair and breast, your head lolling to the side, your mouth hanging open, your face all twisted up-

You came hard around him, shuddering and gasping and whimpering as you enjoyed your sweet orgasm. It was so different, so drastically different from the last one he gave you. You didn't feel like you were on fire, clawing at your skin with your throat raw, you felt like you were being slipped into the warm black lake that was Daryl Dixon. 

“Daryl, oh my god Daryl.” Your words slurred in your mouth and he leaned down to kiss you. He wanted to swallow every little noise you made. Wanted to swallow your breaths, wanted to swallow you. 

“Ss-shh-fuck.” He bubbled against your lips as he came, forgetting to pull out again. He didn't give a shit anymore. He moaned then, such a beautiful noise that it nearly shattered your heart. So shameless, he didn't hold back at all, letting you hear all of it, all that you earned from him. 

He ground his hips into you well after you both finished, making sure every last drop of his cum filled you up. He buried his face in your neck and rolled his hips, his rough pubes grinding against your throbbing clit. You'd never come that way before, not without at least a little outside stimulation, the fact he made you cum from penetration alone changed your life for good. 

It was hard to bite back any further words. You moaned softly at the feeling of his dick still dragging against your walls, nudging against you each time in a way that was nearly too much to bear. 

You looked at him with admiration. He looked beautiful. You reached up and ran your hand over his short hair, wiping the sweat from his brows. He looked at you, something he needed great courage to do, and sighed. 

He couldn't think of anything to say. He felt ashamed, embarrassed, he'd been so deeply vulnerable that it physically hurt him. He swore he'd blow his goddamn brains out if you laughed or made fun of him. 

But you didn't, you just smiled up at him with that dangerous look on your face that had his heart racing. It should've relaxed him, but it didn't, it made the muscles in his shoulders tense. 

“Do you want me to leave?” You whispered as you stroked his cheek, fully prepared for him to go back to the same old Daryl Dixon you knew and tolerated. 

“Do whatcha want.” He breathed, finally pulling his soft dick from you. 

“Good. Then I'll stay.” You leaned up on your elbows and kissed his jaw before slipping into the bathroom. 

When you climbed back in bed he was pretending to be asleep. You scoffed quietly in amusement and pulled a thin sheet over the two of you, curling up behind him. You decided that wouldn't suit you so you turned over and wrapped your arm around his waist, nuzzling your face in the back of his neck. 

You kissed the skin there once before pressing your forehead against the same spot, closing your eyes when you felt comfortable. 

Daryl stared at the wall in front of him as he felt your fingers softly fidget with the buttons of his shirt. They soon stilled and your breathing slowed to a point where he could barely hear it anymore. Only then did he close his eyes, and secretly enjoy the way you held him. 

The next morning was awkward when you woke up and saw Glenn still passed out on the couch.

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams

[bbhyeoliskooks]

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 | TXT

TXT's reaction to you being jealous *:ꔫ:*

❈ genre: bf!txt x reader (gn), fluff, slight angst

❈ warnings: insecurity, unedited, probably got worse bc i'm tired :(

yeonjun *:ꔫ:*

yeonjun knew something was off when your shoulders immediately deflated with a barely noticeable pout on your face. for a while, he was catching up with a childhood friend that he hadn't seen in a while, laughing about inside jokes and memories they made in the past. you were polite when meeting them occasionally joining in, but now you were dead silent. sometimes you would look at the ground or toy with your fingers while you waited for them to finish talking, but now you felt your insecurities getting in the way. they had so much history together, growing up and becoming so close that anyone would think it was concerning. when his old friend gently rubbed his shoulder, talking about some meet up, you couldn't help but sigh, feeling inferior thanks to the lack of attention. after a while, that friend went away (thank gosh!), and you huffed, crossing your arms together as the two of you walked home. yeonjun noticed the silent treatment immediately, grabbing your hand so you would stop walking. he had finally put two and two together, the clenched jaw and awkward tension in your body finally making sense- you were jealous. and luckily, since you had a great boyfriend, he knew the exact way to cheer you up.

"silly baby," he pressed a kiss against your forehead tenderly, "i only love you."

you softened against his warm touch immediately, your insecurities melting away as he kissed every part of your face. kisses were magic; they made you feel better after all, especially when they came from yeonjun.

soobin *:ꔫ:*

soobin and his makeup artist got along pretty well. too well, actually, in opposition to your comfort. as you sat across the room, brooding and blatantly staring at the scene in front of you where they were laughing and cracking jokes, you felt your heart drop for every second that passed. truthfully, you knew soobin loved you since he made it apparent in all of his actions, but that didn't help when jealousy inevitably came up in the relationship. she dabbed some more eye shadow onto his delicate lid, and you only felt like throwing up. there was no reason to be jealous, no reason at all, so why were you feeling this way? when soobin came up to you, demanding a comforting hug for good luck- you were his good luck charm to ensure a satisfactory performance, he was genuinely surprised to see you sulky. nonetheless you tried to act like everything was okay, plastering on a smile as you leaned into his hug that almost made you feel completely better. now worried, soobin demanded what was wrong, hoping it wasn't a case of you catching a cold or even worse- breaking up with him!

his concerns eased a little when you came out with the truth, ashamedly saying you were jealous of his friendship with the makeup artist. soobin couldn't help but laugh, petting your head as if you were a child. you had nothing to be worried about; to soobin, you were the most dazzling light in his night sky, and no one could ever take your luminescence away. he loved you the most and after the special stage, he was going to show you the amount that crossed the size of planets and galaxies.

beomgyu *:ꔫ:*

when a random person came up to beomgyu on the beach, asking for his number, you immediately felt possessive. it was silly to say the least, sending them glares to get away from your man(!) or else you would have to throw fists (just playing...). you decided to stay silent, watching the whole ordeal yourself- so ridiculous that it could make you laugh- before interrupting and putting a foot between the person and your boyfriend. you were surprised that they didn't get the hint that gyu wasn't interested because of his cold answers and declines, and it didn't help that his significant other was right there! that person was as dense as a rock and you shooed them away, letting them skidaddle through the sands and to hell where they came from. beomgyu couldn't stop laughing at how you intervened, sizing the person up and down as if it was an old comical movie. he didn't seem to notice that you were actually pretty pissed off as the two of you meandered through the gentle waves, cold water splashing against your sand covered feet.

it was only after 5 minutes of his teasing that he finally got that you were jealous when you didn't respond to any of his harmless jokes. that only made him poke more fun at you, acting flattered and batting his eyelashes as if he was in a romcom. inside, beomgyu was actually shocked that you were jealous, ultimately reinforcing his feelings for you to be even stronger. you sighed asking him to knock it off, clearly annoyed, when he actually got serious, grabbing your hand with the utmost love in his eyes.

"y/n, you're the only one i want and will want. don't be upset with me, please?"

taehyun *:ꔫ:*

taehyun, ordering his usual caramel frappuccino alongside your favorite coffee, didn't seem to notice the cashier's flirty advances towards him. he just chucked it up as something the worker had to do, asking incessant questions about his favorite coffee and whether he prefers them bitter or sweet. it was pretty refreshing, actually, talking to a normal person instead of ordering on an ipad. on the other hand, you watched on the sidelines, close enough that you could hear what they were talking about. it wouldn't take a genius to understand that the cashier had a crush on taehyun, smiling whenever he said something or laughing a little too hard. you rolled your eyes every time they would wave their hand, trying not to giggle because they believed they had a chance with him. you obviously knew taehyun loved you very much; although he wasn't too affectionate in public, he still loved you through his ways, memorizing everything about you because you were fascinating. even so, that didn't help the green monster in the back of your throat, fizzling as the cashier's face got closer to his.

finally, taehyun realized what was going on and it was as if a switch had turned. he immediately became cold, asking if the drinks were done. the cashier, stunned at his bluntness and switch, apologized and handed the drinks to him after their coworker finished blending. it's as if the cashier didn't get the hint, meekly asking for his number while he raised an eyebrow. you waited for his reaction, squinting to try to read his reaction. he simply grabbed two straws, signaling towards you. you felt your heart warm at the certainty in his voice as well as pride, something you could never mistake when he talked about you.

"that's my significant other, thanks."

hyuka *:ꔫ:*

frankly, you were quite annoyed with how friendly kai got around others. you knew it wasn't his fault and perhaps it wasn't how friendly he was, it was how friendly others got with him, sometimes touching him if he said something funny. it also wasn't your fault that your boyfriend was remarkably handsome, earning some looks from strangers and definitely one of his friends that you got weird vibes from. you could tell the moment they entered, spotting hyuka, and immediately striking up a conversation with him. you saw the admiration in their eyes as they examined his face and tried not to stutter. you sighed, looking at him from afar. he was a perfect angel as always, and it didn't help that he believed everyone had good intentions. your stare darting away, you tried to focus on getting something to drink until you saw him calling you over from the corner of your eye. confused, you walked over and he held your hand, softly squeezing it when you stood beside him.

"oh, by the way, this is the love of my life, y/n."

the way he held you close, his scent comforting you as you leaned into his chest eased your insecurities. though he wasn't aware of your jealousy, his physical reassurance melted it away, alleviating your heart in the most hyuka loving way possible.

❈ Released: June 27, 2024 (2:03am CDT)

❈ Thoughts: hope it was good y'all <3 I am getting pretty tired since it's late here on vacation, but hopefully you enjoyed! as always, I loved doing this and I will create more in the future :)

❈ Tags:

[star-suh]

A New "Friendship" has Born

Kim Mingyu x Male Reader

cw: idol au, top mingyu, reader is in an idol group, size difference kink, manhandling, full nelson, fingering, strength kink, semi-public sex, cum swallowing, gaping hole, rimjob.

an: i'm struggling with titles 😭

—

during the whole award show some kind of a strong sexual tension could be felt between yn and mingyu, stares between them. the groups they belong to, sitting just a few seats apart. when mingyu performed yn was stupefied seeing his huge, muscular arms and how his chest bounced every time he jumped ‘he's so tall and big.. fuck’ thought yn biting his lips to prevent a moan to come out of them.

then it was time for yn's group to perform and it didn't go unnoticed by mingyu, every time yn looked directly at the camera, mingyu got excited, seeing the sweat drops falling down his face and his little frame… so perfect to snake his arms around him and fuck him dumb, thought mingyu.

“hey.. you're performance was awesome” mingyu complimented the smaller one, “oh thank you thank you” a flustered yn responded “yours was perfect too, mingyu extended his hand “nice to meet you mingyu”, yn also extended his hand to shake mingyu's, the latter realizing that his was much bigger than yn's further increasing his desire to take him right there and wreck his ass in front of everyone, “nice to meet you too i'm yn”, making eye contact after saying that.

all of a sudden they were in the bathroom, with mingyu's fat cock drilling into yn's ass, his eyes rolling feeling the stretch caused by it while mingyu covered his mouth with his hand so no one can hear him moan “so fucking tight” murmured mingyu, “shit i can't with this.. you're so big” cried yn, tears falling down his cheeks. “already begging me to stop but i'm not even halfway in, c'mon you can handle it all” with a last thrust all his cock was now buried inside the other, balls deep “you looked so hot on stage and so sexy that my cock got hard for it… now take responsibility” mingyu groaned starting to thrust like a beast not stopping until that hole is gaping and full of his seed.

mingyu stopped his thrust when the door opened, someone had entered the bathroom so they couldn't make noise, however, yn felt the other's cock growing even more inside him. a tiny muffled moan escaped the bottom's mouth but it seems than the other person didn't hear it and left the bathroom right away. “you were gripping my dick so hard i almost came. something tells me you like the idea of being caught, right?”. yn shook his head in a no motion, but mingyu grabbed him by the legs and left the bathroom, carrying him still with his cock inside the other's ass. "what the hell are you doing, they're going to see us here?" a worried yn cried and tried to free himself from the other's grip. "that's the idea” laughed the tallest.

the next half hour mingyu fucked yn in a full nelson alterning between his cock and his fingers to insert in the already gaped hole “it's too much” moaned the small one.

“pretty little sluts like you can take this and more so stop being annoying”, growls and degrading words escape mingyu's mouth due to the pleasure that yn's hole gave him. mingyu then puts down yn on the counter and fold him to appreciate the messy masterpiece he made, yn's gaping hole clenching on nothing “look is asking for more cock” mingyu mocks spitting on it “but i'm gonna give it more than that”. yn found himself moaning feeling the intruding tongue exploring his insides and covering them with saliva. “oh my god… this is so fucking good” screamed yn, at this point he doesn't care if anyone caught them he just wants mingyu to ruin him even more.

in the next minutes mingyu's tongue and cock were abusing yn's hole, eating him out during some seconds and then resuming the fucking “the mix of your juices and my cock's taste so delicious ynnie, i can't stop sucking this perfect ass” he says slapping it right after.

“fuck i'm gonna cum where do you want it?” mentions mingyu, his thrusts getting sloppier. “inside please put it sll inside meee” begged yn “i promise i'm not gonna waste any drop” his words going straight to mingyu's meat. “woah are you that desperate for my cum?” he laughs “then take it cumwhore” with one last powerful thrust he filled yn up with his load.

yn felt so full with the big piece of meat inside him throbbing while spurting the thick cum, “yeah there you go” growled mingyu letting himself fall on top if yn trying to regain forces “that was hot.. you're so hot” the taller sighed then laughing along with yn who replied “you're hotter”...

since that day a very strong friendship was born between both idols.

[punkshort]

I don’t know if this is an annoying request but is there any way to get a Drabble of when reader had gotten jealous (in the past before the accident) when she found out that joel and Angie had history. In one of your previous chapters, Joel described it as some of the best sex of his life 👀

-Kiwi 🥝💚

Not an annoying ask at all! Thank you for sending this to me, this was a great idea! Sorry it took so long to get to it!

Jealous

An I Know Who You Are drabble

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: smut (18+ MDNI), blow job, unprotected piv sex, language, edging, lil bit of dom reader/sub joel, masturbation, angry/a little rough sex, jealousy, possessiveness, spanking, hair pulling

WC: 1.6K

A/N: I want to let everyone know this part of their history took place very early on in their relationship. Reader does not yet know his secret, they are in the 'messing around' stage and if you recall, Joel once compared reader to taming a wild horse. So the reader in this story is very different from the one we know. Enjoy!

"Please," Joel whimpered, no longer above begging.

You were between his legs, his cock leaking and heavy in your mouth. With every swirl of your tongue and pump of your fist, he felt himself getting closer and closer to the brink just to have you pull away with a devilish smirk. It was maybe the third time you left him gasping for breath but he lost count so he couldn't be sure. His brain was a jumbled mess and his skin was on fire, soaked with sweat due to his heart pounding so furiously in his chest for the past twenty minutes.

"God, I love it when you use your manners," you purred. You cracked your back and neck with a soft moan, completely ignoring his cock throbbing and aching for attention in front of you. "It really turns me on. Wanna see?"

He groaned and arched his back off the bed, desperately trying to get you to touch him again. He wasn't used to this. Whatever it was you were doing together was fairly new and while the sex was always good, this was something else. And all because at dinner that night, you discovered he fucked someone else well before you even arrived in Jackson.

It was beginning to bother him how non-committal you were. The first couple times you were together, he didn't mind. In fact, he preferred it that way. Especially considering the guilt that weighed him down ever since he first recognized you. But recently, something changed in the way he looked at you, thought about you, felt about you. He was so fucking rusty, he had no idea how to shift the nature of your relationship to something more meaningful. So when Angie showed up, batting her lashes and touching his shoulder at the bar while he waited for you to finish playing whatever game you were playing and come home with him, he leaned into it a bit. He tossed Angie a smile just to add fuel to the flames and make you end the charade. And out of the corner of his eye, when he saw you stiffen and slam down your drink, he felt his cock twitch with excitement.

Maybe he shouldn't have pushed your buttons.

"You're not listening to me," you said sternly, grabbing his chin and forcing his attention back onto you. "I asked you a question."

"Yes," he rasped, "show me. Please," he added, remembering at the last second how you liked it when he begged. You smiled and let his chin go, then took that very same hand and slowly dragged it down your bare chest, over your stomach and underneath the fabric of your panties. You tipped your head back and moaned when you slid two fingers into your pussy, and when you began to rock your hips into your hand, still kneeling between his legs on the bed, he whined and fisted the bedsheets next to him.

He desperately moaned your name, wiping the sweat from his forehead, but you cut him off.

"So wet," you whispered, rolling your neck and opening your eyes, steadily holding his gaze while you continued to fuck yourself with your fingers. "Feels so good. Maybe I'll just make myself come, instead."

"No!" he growled angrily, sitting up and grabbing the back of your neck. You gasped in surprise but he could see your eyes sparkling with excitement and the corners of your mouth twitch.

"No?" you repeated, tilting your head to the side and sinking your teeth into your lower lip, your eyes locked onto his, now inches away from your face while you snapped your wrist even faster between your legs.

"I wanna make you come," he said through clenched teeth while he did everything in his power not to grab you by the waist and slam you down on his cock.

"If you don't like it, maybe you should've taken her home tonight, instead," you seethed angrily, then your eyes fluttered closed and your mouth fell open when your fingers finally brushed up against that one spot that always made you come undone. Joel's nostrils flared when he realized you were close and decided he had enough.

"Fuck this," he muttered. He wrapped his hand around your wrist and yanked it out from between your legs, and before you even had a chance to open your eyes and yell at him, he scooped his other arm around your back and flipped you over so you were lying underneath him. He smirked down at you, finally getting the upper hand. "Did I make you jealous, baby?"

You scoffed and wiggled underneath him, but he pinned you down.

"Don't be ridiculous. You're allowed to fuck whoever you want."

He hummed and noticed your fingers still glistening with your slick. He grabbed your wrist and popped both your fingers into his mouth, his tongue lapping up your arousal with a heady groan, making sure to lick up every last drop before releasing your fingers with a grin.

"Only wanna fuck you, though."

He noticed the way your expression softened a bit, just for a split second. The first crack in your armor. But before he could dig into it deeper, you shifted gears.

"Then go ahead and fuck me already."

He yanked your underwear so fast down your legs, you heard the fabric rip, but you could hardly care when a moment later he was sinking himself inside you with a strangled groan, both finally finding some relief in the familiar stretch.

"Y'drive me fuckin' crazy, y'know that?" he murmured into your cheek. He held your jaw tightly in his grip, his hips roughly slamming into you as you gasped and moaned under him. With every harsh thrust, he brushed against that one spot, already stimulated from your fingers earlier. "Can't just admit you're jealous? Wouldn't look my way all night 'til someone else did and now look at you. Makin' a mess all over my cock."

Your eyes flared with anger and you yanked your chin out of his grasp. Grabbing a handful of his hair, you pulled as hard as you could, causing him to lose his balance for a moment, but it was all you needed. You wrapped your legs around his waist and with a grunt, rolled him over onto his back so you were straddling him.

Your mouth crashed down against his, teeth clashing and tongues messily licking into each other. With your heavy breaths mingling together, his hands roamed, grabbing onto every part of you he could find until they settled on your hips. He helped guide you in his lap, fingers digging into the fatty area where your thighs and hips creased, adding more force every time you dropped back down onto his thick length.

"Jesus, fuck!" Joel growled, lifting one hand to slap your ass, the sharp sting making you gasp until the pain faded and you ordered him to do it again, so he did.

You moaned and tilted your chin to the ceiling, hips grinding into him so you could give your burning thighs a break but it apparently wasn't enough because he started to ram up into you, soft grunts slipping past his lips with each thrust.

With little warning, your back arched and you cried out, convulsing and squeezing his cock as you came, gasping desperately for air. He couldn't tear his eyes away, completely mesmerized, like usual. You were gorgeous, he always knew that, but when he got to see you fall apart for him, it transcended his definition of beauty and left him in awe.

Once you collected yourself, he pulled you down to his chest, burying his face against your neck and wrapping his arms tightly around your ribs, slamming into your used cunt over and over, making you whimper against his skin.

"I wanna come inside you so fuckin' bad," he whispered, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

"You can't," you whispered back, leaving out but I wish you could.

"I know."

With a rough groan, he pulled out, causing your eyelids to flutter weakly and your pussy clench angrily at the loss. He pulled your hips down flush so he could rut against you, stilling momentarily when his hot spend spilled out, smearing all over your stomachs.

After giving him a moment to catch his breath, you tried to roll off of him but he didn't loosen his grip.

"Just another minute," he said softly into your shoulder. He felt your body relax and he inhaled deeply, breathing in your scent for later. He tilted his head so he faced you and locked his lips with yours, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as he deepened the kiss. But you didn't allow it for long. You never did.

"Joel," you murmured against his mouth, pulling away and pushing yourself up. He sighed and let you go, watching as you stood on shaky legs to enter his bathroom and clean yourself up. You handed him the wet towel before collecting your clothes from the floor, holding up your mangled underwear with one finger and giving him a look. He chuckled as he wiped his stomach and shrugged.

You rolled your eyes and turned around so he didn't see the smile on your face as you got dressed. His eyes raked up and down your body for a moment before he said, "you don't gotta leave, y'know."

"I have patrol in the morning."

"So?"

"So I need to get some sleep," you said, pulling your shirt on and fixing your hair. He was really growing to hate this part. "Maybe I'll see you tomorrow," you added over your shoulder as you headed towards his door. He didn't respond. He just watched you leave, a slow smile pulling at his lips because even though you acted indifferent towards him, the fact remained that you were jealous of another woman giving him attention, and that had to mean something.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗔𝗡𝗫𝗜𝗘𝗧𝗬 𝗢𝗡 𝗧𝗢𝗨𝗥

　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N is just another fan at one of the Let's Trip Tour shows, until it comes time for the Meet&Greet. Things get out of hand for Matt, and she ends up being the only one who manages to calm him down.

WARNING: Panick attack, anxiety.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by @patscorner

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The stage was illuminated by a myriad of lights, as the bustling crowd eagerly pressed near the front. Y/N could feel the electricity in the air as the beats of upbeat music keep echoing throughout the venue from the big speakers. It was the beginning of the much-awaited Sturniolo Triplets show from the Let's Trip Tour.

She couldn't believe she was finally there, in the middle of the action, about to witness the boys she'd followed through a screen for years, finally face to face. With her heart pounding in her chest, Y/N let herself be carried away by the infectious energy of the crowd as she got closer and closer to the stage.

The music reached a crescendo, and then, suddenly, they appeared. Matt, Nick, and Chris entered the stage, radiating a magnetic presence that immediately captured everyone's attention. Y/N held her breath as her eyes found Matt, the boy she had never seen in person, but with whom she had a huge crush for months, in the flesh right in front of her. He looked even more stunning out of screen, with his messy hair and shy smile.

As the greetings sentences were let out by the three's microphones, Y/N felt a wave of emotion course through her body. It was as if every cell within her was vibrating in tune with them, with the pulsing energy of everyone around her.

As the show progressed, Y/N couldn't take her eyes off Matt. Every laugh, every saying, seemed to hypnotize her even more. She wondered if he could feel her gaze on him or if that was just her desire playing with her mind.

When it was time for a break between games, Matt grabbed the microphone and began speaking to the audience. His voice was soft and engaging, making everyone around him feel like they were having an intimate conversation with him. Y/N held her breath, hanging on every word he said.

As Matt interacted with everyone, his eyes swept across the crowd and, for a brief moment, seemed to meet Y/N's. She felt her face blush intensely, and a shy smile formed on her lips before she looked away, embarrassed, holding back the immense urge to scream at having been seen by him.

As the show continued, Y/N found herself caught up in a rollercoaster of emotions. The pulsating energy of the music, the interactions, the magnetic presence of the triplets, and, most of all, Matt's closeness left her ecstatic. Every moment was like a dream come true, and she refused to blink for fear of missing even a second.

When the stage lights finally went out and the final words were given, Y/N felt a mixture of ecstasy and melancholy by the feeling of the long-awaited moment coming to an end, but little did she know that the night was just beginning.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡���﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N waited anxiously in line for the meet and greet. Her heart was beating so hard that it felt like it was about to jump out of her chest while her right leg bounced up and down in anxiety. Every minute that passed felt like an eternity, but at the same time, she wanted the moment to last forever.

As she watched the fans in front of her greet the triplets with beaming smiles, Y/N wondered what it would be like to be so close to them. She could barely contain her excitement as she approached the door that led to the meet and greet room where traps played loudly from the speakers, and colorful lights painted the walls.

Finally, her turn has come. Her stomach fluttered nervously as she entered the room, and her eyes instantly locked on Matt, who was there, so close and so real.

The three were side by side, Nick had a relaxed posture as he placed aside a teddy bear that he had probably received from the previous fan, while Chris glanced at Matt, seeming to watch him closely.

Matt was feeling fine until seconds before, but something inside him started to stir. His heart beating faster, his breathing became irregular, and a feeling of panic came over him.

So, when Y/N walked over to greet Matt with a hug, she noticed something was different, off. His arms were shaking, and his eyes looked a little lost, as if he were fighting some internal battle. Now up close, she could also notice how rigid his posture was and how his hands were clenched into a firm fist.

Y/N felt a wave of worry run through her own body, struggling internally over what to do, but ended up deciding not to expose Matt's situation in front of anyone, remaining silent. Instead, she smiled warmly and tried to keep the conversation light, hoping not to bother him with intrusive questions.

"Hi, Matt." The girl greeted softly, trying to ignore the nervousness that came over her body. "It's amazing to finally meet you in person. How are you?"

Matt lifted his head towards her for the first time, appearing to have only noticed her presence at that moment, trying to open a smile like hers, but his lips were trembling to the point where it came weaker than he wanted to.

Y/N could see the tension in his blue eyes as he tried to hide his discomfort, wondering what had happened to make him react in such a way so suddenly. Meanwhile, Matt tried to convince himself that it was nothing and that it would soon pass.

But it didn't pass. Instead, the feeling of panic grew, enveloping him like a dense fog. He felt like he was suffocating, like the world was crumbling around him, while his mind convinced him that he was alone.

As Y/N moved to greet Chris and Nick individually, keeping a brief and quick conversation - following the pattern imposed by the team that observed them -, she noticed how Matt seemed increasingly agitated, her own mind racing in an eagerness to help him, but the fear of reaction from the public, the team and even the triplets themselves held her back.

Until the picture moment. Y/N felt her heart sink as she felt Matt's breathing become more rapid and shallow as they prepared to take the group photo. She knew she couldn't just stand by and watch as he fought the monsters of his own mind.

With a lump in her throat and trembling hands, Y/N removed her left arm from around Chris, muttering a quick apology before turning to Matt, blocking the view of the line of people behind them, creating a small haven of privacy amidst the chaos of the room. The girl lifted her head slightly, searching his eyes with her own, desperately looking for any sign of life inside the blue orbs.

"Matt, hey." She began, her voice soft and comforting, acting as a balm to his troubled soul. "Are you okay?"

Matt's eyes widened in panic as he realized that the disturbances in his mind became visible enough to be seen by someone else. He swallowed hard, forcing himself not to look at his brothers or the fans behind the girl in front of him, the fear of receiving disappointed or judgmental looks growing in his chest.

He limited himself to just shaking his head, unable to utter a word. His eyes were unfocused and lost, and his nails pierced the palm of his hands - probably drawing blood - with the force he was squeezing the area, trying to maintain control of the uncontrollable emotions.

Y/N could see the terror on his face, and her heart ached for him.

She turned her head slightly and passed her eyes briefly over Nick and Chris, noticing how the two now had a rigid posture, ready to make a move as soon as necessary. Chris's eyes carried great uncertainty, as if he was afraid of leaving Matt in the care of a stranger, but Nick's hand, which held his biceps surreptitiously, prevented him from acting on impulse.

Y/N turned her attention back to Matt, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth in a thoughtful act before sighing softly.

"Can I hug you?" Her voice came out in a whisper as low as the music that surrounded them, but loud enough for him to hear it, and she was sure of it when she received a small nod in response.

Without hesitation, the girl enveloped him in a warm hug, holding him tightly against her chest as he trembled. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he struggled to control his breathing and calm his nerves. Y/N pressed her fingers into strategic points on his back, touching the hard knots with every inch of skin, lightly massaging the covered area.

"Everything is okay." Y/N whispered softly, snaking her right hand up his shoulder to the back of his head, interlacing her fingers in Matt's messy curls, stroking them carefully while guiding him to lay his head on her right shoulder. "You're safe here. No one is gonna hurt you. Just breathe with me, okay? Follow my breathing."

Y/N began to breathe slowly and deeply, the warm air hitting Matt's ear, helping him to follow her rhythm. A disguised smile grew on her face as she felt the boy's back rise and fall in an uneven rhythm below her left hand, knowing he was trying as hard as he could in that moment.

Little by little, she felt the tension in his body ease, his tremors becoming less intense as he finally reacted, clinging to her for comfort. His large but so fragile hands at that moment held her arm tightly, searching desperately for support and balance.

For a few precious moments, Y/N and Matt remained like that, joined in a comforting embrace, and lost in their own world of calm and safety. The sounds of Chris' agitated voice shouting for water to one part of the team and Nick's voice demanding the other part to remove the fans that were still there were all muffled against both of their ears, just the unison rhythm of their breathing and the beats of their connected hearts echoing around their bodies.

When Matt finally pulled away, his eyes quickly met Y/N's, overflowing with gratitude and fascination, feeling flattered to have had the opportunity to meet a girl so empathetic to the point of helping him without a second thought.

His mind searched for words to thank her, but to Y/N, he didn't need to say anything; his eyes said it all.

"How can I-" Matt began, clearing his throat briefly as he heard his own voice come out hoarse and worn out by the whirlwind of emotions that he went through in a short space of time. "How can I thank you? Repay you for what you did for me..."

Y/N shook her head, interrupting his sentence, her own smile widening and brightening her features as her eyes remained fixed on the blue ones, who now seemed to be taking their own time to carefully analyze her expressions, seeming mesmerized.

Matt's warm hands suddenly felt heavier against the exposed skin of her arm, a shiver running down her spine as she noticed how close they were physically, the boy's scent filling her nostrils with an inescapable force, leaving her dizzy and lost.

"I think you owe me a picture."

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezing @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @watermelonreid @fratbrochrisgf @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[ozarkthedog]

𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

summary: it's been years since Dieter last saw you, his childhood friend and the unrequited love of his life. still, he doesn’t blame you for leaving.

pairing: Dieter Bravo x gn!childhood friend!reader

warnings: angst but with a happy ending! mentions of drug use and alcohol but nothing graphic. w.c: 1.0k

an: for @punkshort AU August writing challenge, I was given the prompt, “childhood friend with Dieter Bravo” thank you so much for hosting! huge thanks to @ghotifishreads for letting me talk your ear off about this little idea that took on a life of it's own and for reading this over. ilu!

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⋅ 𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Dieter rubs a hand over his face as he steps from the SUV into a throng of flashing lights and frantic screaming. It was the premiere of his first directorial and writing debut; a lot was riding on this.

Sure, he'd won an Oscar and various other award nominations, but this was an entirely different beast. This movie was special to him. It was the first script he wrote after getting "clean." He always scoffed at that word. Clean. Was he pure and holy now simply because he kicked hard drugs to the curb?

He takes a deep, slow breath, adjusts his velvet purple suitcoat, and moves down the red carpet. He autographs cards and pictures, takes selfies, and banters with a few fans before moving on to the press.

It doesn't feel right being here alone, he thinks, his left side feeling raw and exposed like a wound that never healed. 

After rewriting the script several times, he has his assistant mail it to a few studio execs before having them print out one last copy. He wrote down your name and told them to send you the script. He wanted to deliver it to you in person; it felt like the right thing to do, but he couldn't be sure you ever wanted to see him again after what he put you through.

He's stronger these days. Mentally and physically healthier. He's lost a bit of weight now that he's no longer downing pills and chasing them with alcohol. It took him a while to get used to feeling again. Sitting with the uncomfortable thoughts and not letting them take control. He's proud of himself. He thinks you would be, too. 

You.

Seeing a large open field littered with red flowers while driving home from rehab for the second time kicked him square in the gut. Flashes of his youth came back in vivid, blinding colors.

Chasing his dog, Dali, around the yard. Playing with you in the field of wildflowers behind your house. His throat tightens.

You.

You were his reason. The sun he revolved around—inseparable childhood friends.

When you first met Dieter, he was covered in chalk dust, drawing funky, green aliens with big eyes on the sidewalk in front of his childhood home. You'd just moved in next door, and your Mother told you to go make friends. He looked at you in awe as you stood before him, the sun creating a golden crown around your head. "Wanna be friends?" you blurted before kneeling and pestering him about his chalk alien.

From that moment on, you were forever linked. Dieter never wanted anyone else.

From scabbed knees and hide & seek to strange body changes and long school days. Consoling Dieter after he's pushed into a locker, copying each other's homework, watching Dieter shine on the theater stage, and spending almost every minute together that you could.

He wondered if you ever felt the love he held for you—the love that surpassed sibling bonds and grew stronger every time he laid eyes on you. The love that made him self-conscious and shy away from speaking his truth despite years of yearning. He couldn't convince himself to jeopardize the friendship or that you might possibly feel the same.

Cut to Dieter asking you to move to LA with him to be his assistant once his star power steadily rose. 

To the elaborate movie sets and lavish premieres, to the long nights and unspoken feelings. 

To find Dieter on the floor with vomit spilling from his lips to the empty bottles of pills and booze splayed around his Hollywood Hills home. 

The bickering, the raging parties, and the friendship that was slowly dying. 

The shell of a man he used to be. 

You were never around when he needed you the most after he drowned himself in booze and pills. He never blamed you. He was often inebriated, covered in a mess of sweat and other fluids. You could only stand to see him self-medicate for so long. 

"I can't keep doing this," he remembers you saying as tears welled in your eyes and your bottom lip trembled while he sat in a crumpled heap at the foot of his unmade bed with that usual glazed look. "I can't keep trying to save you."

He remembers wanting to argue, to save whatever piece was left. He tried to chase after you, but his brain and body were still under the haze from the night before, limbs heavy as lead weights, and they no longer listened to his commands. 

How your face twisted with a devastating sadness made his heart shatter. He never meant this to happen, for it to get this bad.

Had Dieter known the repercussions, that the last image he'd have of you would be wiping fallen tears that he caused from your cheeks, he would've gotten clean eons before. He would've let this version of himself die without a second thought. He wanted to be the man you counted on, with your best interests at heart. 

The man you knew him to be.

—

Just as he's about to step into the theater, he hears a voice call his name—a voice that would wake him from the dead. 

You.

His heart aches; it bursts with unnerving energy as he watches you approach. His gaze never leaves you as you glide across the room to where he stands, frozen. Could he be hallucinating?

"Hi D," his nickname sounds like heaven as it leaves your lips. He never wants it to end; he wants to hear it forever. "I'm sorry I didn't reach out sooner. I needed to make sure I was in a good headspace to see you again." You nervously wring your fingers, and Dieter can't stop himself from reaching out and locking your hands together, calming your combined anxious energy.

"It's okay," he whispers, throat tight, holding back elated tears, "I'm glad you're here."

A smile tugs at your lips, eyes shiny with your own tears. "Me too."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[bbyjackie]

𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐌, 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘!

relationship headcanons with one piece feat: luffy, zoro, kid, law

warnings: fluff

(header by Loni)

𝙇𝙐𝙁𝙁𝙔 has a constant need to be around you. he follows you around absentmindedly everywhere like a puppy, sometimes it can be a bit of a nuisance.

"y/n it was so funny! usopp's hand was just stuck in the pipe and he was screaming for like an hour 'til franky saw him!" luffy cackled, a gummy grin etched onto his features as you felt your finger grow numb by the second. "hm, i bet.." you let out a light hearted scoff, trying to pull your hand back. it felt like with each tug of your hand, instead of loosening the grasp luffy had, it only made his arm stretch further. "but luf, i need you to let go off my finger!" you groaned under your breath as you felt your back grow sore from the odd angle. you were shrimping with your spine feeling like it was bent to a full right angle just trying to pull away from the - sorry, your rubber boy as he made very clear. you couldn't see him but you could already envision his dopey smile turn into a massive pout. "ehh? why do i need to let go?" "because if you don't want me to become an usopp and start screaming you're gonna have to let go sweetie!" "i dont see why i have to.." "luf as much as i love you, i'm not taking a shit with your hand snaked through the door like that."

we all know 𝙕𝙊𝙍𝙊 has the worst sense of direction, but it always becomes comedy, especially when you're mid argument with him.

"stop being so dramatic!" zoro groans as his fist pounds against the wooden door of your bedroom. "come on out y/n!", he waited for a moment only to be met with silence. you had turned away from him mid workout after he told you that he doesn't need someone to smother him like an over obsessive mother. you must be pissed. not that it's your fault, he shouldn't have turned you away, you were just worried for him. letting go of his pride, zoro's hand loosens as he purses his lips and thinks for a moment, "hey, 'em sorry, i shouldn't have said that." again, there is just utter silence. feeling dejected, zoro turns his back just to see you with an amused smirk and hands crossed against your chest and usopp giving him the most massive side eye from around the corner of the hallway. "that's great and all that you apologised marimo," you giggled, usopp jumps in, "dude, that's the utility closet."

𝙆𝙄𝘿 is always in stage one: denial. every time anyone brings up the fact that he is utterly whipped for you, his face blows red and he gets soo mad. but the thing is, he secretly keeps small trinkets of yours just so he can feel closer to you.

kid was busy at work with a screwdriver in one hand and the other keeping this small steel mechanism as still as he could. his crimson red eyes staring down intensely at the work on his bench. every time he gets concentrated like this, you could almost see the vertex of his tongue poking through the corner of his red-stained lips. "kid!" you shouted, scampering around the room, as you finally landed behind him, hands secured on either side of his broad shoulders. "hah?" kid gruffed, head leaning backwards, hitting against your chest as he looked up from his desk, "what?" "have you seen my bracelet?" you pouted, tilting your head slightly to the side as you noticed from your peripheral that the arm that was not mechanical twitch slightly. "i can't find it.." kid immediately scoffs, turning his head back down to his work. "no how would i know where it is!" "hmm okay, just asking.." when kid finally leaves his workbench, killer glances at him from the side of the kitchen. "y/n was looking for their bracelet." "yeah i know." "did you find it?" "why the hell would i know where it is?" "so the silver bracelet with a pink bunny pendant on your wrist is 100% yours?" "shut up - yeah it is mine so what!" "okay sanrio girl calm down."

𝙇𝘼𝙒 has to remind himself that he loves you dearly. you're the first person to make him feel this way. so when you're absolutely eating it up in the middle of his study with ice spice blaring through the den den mushi, he tries his best to live laugh love.

"HE SAYS THAT I'M WHAT?!" you shout, hand gripping the makeshift pen mic up to penguin as law tries his best to concentrate on the med book he has in his hand. he swears to himself that next time he'll never let you in this room again. "GOOD ENOUGH, GRABBIN' MY DUH' DUH' DUH'" penguin answers, nodding along as bepo stands utterly in the corner with the den den mushi in his hands. "THINK 'BOUT SHIT THAT I SHOULDN'T HAVE!" before you can really show your shit, law immediately shambles you guys out of the room. "law, i'm sorry!!" you plead from outside his room as the boys stand awkwardly behind you, ice spice still playing yet way quieter than before from bepo's hands. "c'mon!!" law swears he loves you, but if he hears another t-that boy's a liar! that boy's a liar! he's going to rip his ears off.

[spookwriter-xo]

Coppélia

Chapter 1 - The Doll That Came To Life

Chapter Summary - Y/N performs her first show as the lead ballerina, little does she know she caught the eye of an admirer.

Series Masterlist

It was no secret that the Grand Ballet Society was the best. Ever since I was a little girl I dreamed of being a part of it all, dreamed of performing in front of men and women who admired the art as much as I did. I couldn't believe it when I was offered a position at 17.

My parents hated the idea and forbade me to go. How could their eldest daughter take over the estate if she was too busy galavanting around on stage in a tutu and leotards? I didn't care though, I had a chance to have my dream and I took it.

I just wished they could see me now.

I'd been a part of the society for almost 5 years now, and not once in that time had anyone in my family come to watch me perform. At least not to my knowledge. It often left a bitter taste in my mouth when I'd think about the first few months after, how quickly my parents were to drop me the second I defied their orders. I was really just an heir.

Tonight was the opening night of the play Coppélia. It's about a doll that comes to life and captures the heart of a young man and was first created in 1870. It was one of my favorites of all time, and I got to play the lead.

I stood in my dressing room, fixing my hair to make sure it was neat and out of my face. I let out a soft exhale, opening night was always the worst. Mistakes could be made at every twist and turn and the expectations were high from the audience.

A firm knock on my door made me jump. "Y/N We're starting." The director's voice calls from the other side before his footsteps hastily retreat. I take another deep breath before rushing out to get to my position.

I brush past the male lead, Miles, who offers me a comforting smile. "Hey." He says, stopping me for a moment. "You're gonna do great, okay?"

"You too," I say, giving his arm a soft squeeze before pulling away and rushing to my starting position.

Go time.

I stumbled into my dressing room with a beaming smile. That couldn't have gone any better. I let out an excited squeal as I sat on the plush couch. Not to sound self-absorbed, but I did amazing. My excitement was short-lived as I was temporarily distracted by the bouquet of flowers sitting atop my dresser. Gifts already?

I stand and look at the pretty pure white Gardenia bunched up and placed neatly in a glass vase. I notice a note placed beside it on the counter, the words 'Pretty Ballerina' written out in neat cursive.

I pick it up with a small smile and unfold the card.

'To the pretty ballerina,

I couldn't imagine a more fitting beauty to play such a role. Please do not be deterred from the early gift, I could not help myself. You amazed me and others with your performance, even though it is opening night!

I've always been a fan of Ballet, however, this is the first time in a long time that I have been completely captivated by one of the dancers. I hope to see you continue on stage, and one day I may even show you my face. Enjoy the Gardenias, known for their purity and sweetness. I'll send you many more gifts in the future.

From, Seonghwa'

I stare at the name at the bottom of the page. Seonghwa, huh? I smile as I put the card down, my fingers lightly touching the Gardenias petals as I let the smell engulf my senses. A part of me hoped this secret admirer would come and visit, another part of me hoped he wouldn't. Either way, I assumed this wouldn't be the last I'd hear from him.

And I was right.

Over the next few weeks my apartment and dressing room slowly turned into a florist from the amount of flowers and gifts Seonghwa had sent me. They letters of admiration slowly turned into love letters, causing my heart to race with excitement after every show.

I needed to see him, needed to know who he was, and I felt like I would slowly eat myself alive. I got butterflies just from the words he wrote on paper. Would I feel the same if I saw him?

I hatched a plan to catch him. I left him a note tapped to my mirror to wait so I could see him. I didn't have high hopes at all. He'd written in his letters how he had no time to stay, how he longed to hear my voice and see my smile up close. I needed to meet him desperately, and I prayed as I danced that tonight would be the night where my wishes would be granted.

As I walked into my dressing room after yet another amazing show, I let out a soft gasp. A tall man dressed in a black suit stood by my dresser. He was handsomely pretty, his features sharp but his eyes soft. His hair was long and styled back, making him look like he walked straight out of Dorian Gray.

"Seonghwa?" I ask softly, stepping forward. I could feel the heat on my cheeks, glancing in the mirror to see a light pink hue. He smiles as he hears my voice, clearly liking his name on my lips.

"Hello, Y/N, is it?" He asks, god even his voice is pretty. Was this really the same man who sent me those letters? I smile softly and nod, moving to stand in front of him properly. "You truly are the prettiest thing I have ever laid eyes on." He murmurs softly, his eyes scanning my body. My cheeks were surely red by now as I lowered my head to hide away from his intense gaze.

I've been flirted with before, it's no surprise, especially in such a big city. However, no flirting attempt had ever come from a man whose beauty could compare to a Greek god. None of them actually worked either.

"You're the one who has been sending me gifts?" I ask, looking back up at him to see him beaming down at me.

"I hope you don't mind. I understand it could seem weird that I've come to every show." He says sheepishly.

"No, not at all! I've started to look forward to your letters." I say with a soft laugh. If a smile could get any brighter, his did. I couldn't help myself but to return it.

"Are you free tomorrow? For brunch?" He asks, holding out a card between his middle and index finger for me to take.

"Is this you asking me out on a date?" I ask, taking the card from his hand, making sure to brush my fingers against his. He purses his lips at the contact, trying to suppress his growing smile.

"It can be a date if you want it to." He says, his voice like honey as his hand lingers for a moment.

"I'll give you a call." I say, holding his card tightly as he nods.

"I wish I could stay longer. However, work calls." He apologizes, tilting his head as he moves away, taking his warmth with him. I wondered what he did. He had to make a lot of money to come to every single one of these shows because they sure as hell weren't cheap.

"I'll see you around then?" My words came out as a question rather then a statement.

"Definitely." He says, bowing like a gentleman before he turns to leave. I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked down at his card. His phone number was written in neat font with his name 'Park Seonghwa' written above it. Below his number was a company name; ATZ Corp.

I recognized the name; ATZ Corp was a company started by an old money family, the Kims. I knew their son, Hongjoong, had taken over the company a few years ago and had hired a few of his close friends from college to help run it. They worked with real estate mostly, however, I had heard rumors that they also did work in the underground. After finally meeting Seonghwa, I didn't really believe it. He looked far too neat in his appearance to work for a gang, let alone the mafia.

I turn back to my mirror and laugh softly at the fresh bouquet of Gardenias waiting for me. He never bought fake flowers and never anything other than the same pure white Gardenias. They must be his favourite, or he assumed they were mine.

The sound of the director calling us for a briefing snapped me out of my haze. Quickly tucking the card into my purse, I rushed out of my dressing room to meet with the cast.

I tried my best to pay attention. However, my brain kept sweeping me back to Seonghwa. His smile, his warm aura, the excitement that bubbled up inside me as our hands touched even if it was brief. I couldn't help but let my mind wonder into what could be.

[pretzel-box]

STREAMER AU MASTERLIST HERE

CHAPTER 6: I AM RIGHT AND I HAVE WON

tags: I don't know how to tag this? Painter exposes Allison?

words: 4k

authors note: I am not happy with how I wrote it, I blame the lack of a laptop.

In the span of three weeks, moved five individual people in five individual places.

Sebastian was the first,

After Allison had exposed his roommate a week ago, he was confused, angry and somewhat surprised. The man found himself glancing at everything that was connected to you, the bedroom door, the empty work desk, the chinese takeout shop and most importantly the second helmet for his bike.

This particular helmet wasn't really yours but you wore it so much in the past that it was basically owned by you.

Those little things conflicted him dearly, since he was sure, even with your weird love-hate friendship, did you both co-existed pretty well.

Yet, even as those small reminders tugged at him, Allison's words kept looping in his mind.

They set you up, you know that, right? she had said, her voice laced with feigned concern. All this time, they’ve been playing you—just so they could stay close to Solace. You're just a pawn.

Sebastian couldn't shake it off. The idea that you, the person who had shared his space and a fragile, weird friendship with him, might have been using him gnawed at him. He hated how much it made sense. Allison had laid it out perfectly—too perfectly, in hindsight—but in the chaos of everything, it sounded believable.

The constant replay of that accusation left him uneasy, and now every memory was tainted with doubt. The late-night laughs, the casual banter, even the tension that always bubbled beneath the surface. Was all of that staged? Was your connection to him just a ploy? He didn’t want to believe it, but Allison’s words had already planted the seed.

And then there was the part that unsettled him the most.

According to Allison, you loved him, in a way that bordered on obsession. She had claimed that every time you looked at him, it was with a deeper attachment than he’d realized—something beyond friendship, beyond even the regular crush. It was an unhealthy fixation. He was the center of your world, and it had all been hidden behind the mask of your chaotic yet comfortable interactions.

Sebastian felt conflicted. He hadn't noticed anything like that before. Sure, you had your quirks, but it never crossed his mind that it went that deep. Maybe he missed it because he'd never seen you in that light.

But that’s where the real problem lay—what he didn’t know was that Allison’s words were a lie, carefully crafted to make him doubt everything. You didn’t love him in that unhealthy way, and you’d never set him up. But the damage was done. The seed of doubt had been planted, and Sebastian was starting to wonder if everything between you had been a game all along.

Sebastian only found comfort in a single person right now, his best friend.

He swung his leg over his bike, secured his helmet, and drove off to visit his friend once more.

The second was Mama Solace.

Sebastian’s mother had finally found the time and money for a much-needed vacation, and it just so happened to be close to her son. A coincidence? Perhaps not. She loved Sebastian fiercely, more than life itself, and it was time once again to remind him of that with one of her unexpected, affectionate visits.

The last time she had dropped by was when you first moved in, becoming Sebastian’s roommate.

Oh, how she adored you from the moment she laid eyes on you. You had all the qualities she dreamed of in a partner for her son—sweet, caring, and just the right amount of fierce. She saw the connection between you two right away, even if Sebastian refused to acknowledge it. In her mind, you were already the perfect match for her precious boy. You had no idea just how often she'd drop hints, trying to nudge Sebastian toward you, much to his exasperation.

But that was Mama Solace—she loved to meddle in the most loving way possible. This visit would be no different.

She sat in the comfort of the plane, ready to depart from her home country to meet you two again.

The third person was Allison.

She darted around a local clothing store, her father’s credit card clutched in her manicured fingers like it was a divine gift. Her gel nails clicked against the plastic as she browsed the racks, the shopping spree a temporary balm for the simmering rage she felt toward you. Her irritation with you had long passed the point of tolerable, and only the thrill of buying something new could calm her nerves.

How dare you disrupt her carefully laid plans? All you had to do was stay in your lane, accept your role, and everything would have gone smoothly. But no—you had to get in the way, threatening the perfect web of control she thought she had spun. The plan had been flawless, but now, with every step you took, you were messing it all up.

Sebastian, thankfully, was still in the dark about everything. He was too distracted, too wrapped up in his own confusion to see the truth right in front of him. But that was fine with her. Allison believed she held all the cards. She had you, Sebastian, and the whole situation under her control—or so she thought.

She smiled to herself, picking up a striking red dress—perfect for her next date with Sebastian. The fabric would hug her in all the right places, showing off her figure. In her mind, it was only a matter of time before he saw her the way she pretended to see him, and this dress would be another step toward that.

As she stepped up to the cash register, her confidence faltered when the cashier swiped her card and it declined. Her father was still furious with her, apparently. She gritted her teeth in frustration, but quickly smoothed over her expression. She wasn't about to let this minor inconvenience ruin her day.

Without missing a beat, Allison pulled out her phone, her fingers dancing across the screen like it was second nature. She knew exactly how to handle this.

"Hey, handsome," she texted, her words dripping with flirtation. "Mind helping your favorite girl out?~"

It was easy—too easy, in fact. She had gotten used to manipulating situations to her advantage, and she was confident Sebastian would give her money. He always did.

Then there was Painter.

While Allison paid with Sebastian’s help and strolled out of the shop, Painter quietly entered his own—at the other end of the city center. Today, the usual sleek black suit made from expensive cotton was left in the closet. Instead, he wore a casual outfit: thrifted brown pants, a simple white shirt, and a green checkered vest that his mother had picked out for him years ago. He never liked it at first, but eventually, he came to admit—green was definitely his color.

Dressed like this, Painter looked like any other trendy, laid-back guy. You'd never guess he was the heir to Urbanshade, one of the most powerful companies around. His father had been grooming him for years to take over, especially after Painter managed to graduate from Yale with top honors. He was the pride of the family—a model Ivy League student, exactly as his parents had always hoped for.

But unlike his friend Sebastian, who lived by his own chaotic set of rules, Painter was always one of those people who excelled in everything, effortlessly. To the outside world, he was the golden child, the genius destined for greatness.

Yet for Painter, it was all a curse. His intelligence, his success—it only weighed him down, shackling him to a future he didn’t want. His heart was never in the world of business, but his family couldn't see that. To them, he was the prodigy who would continue the legacy. To him, it was a prison. The more success he achieved, the more trapped he felt.

It was why he enjoyed days like this—disappearing into the city, blending into the crowd where nobody knew or expected anything from him. Just for a little while, he could pretend to be someone else, a simple tech shop owner that tries to raise his own money to open up a small art studio instead.

While he worked, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the keys of his laptop, his thoughts inevitably drifted to you. He had seen you a few times with Sebastian in the city, always from a distance. Yet, despite never formally meeting you, he knew more about you than you could have imagined. Sebastian had talked about you often, and though Painter stayed in the shadows of your life, observing from afar, something stirred in his chest whenever he thought of you.

It was ironic, really. He was so familiar with the details of your existence, while you didn’t even know he existed. You were unaware of the person quietly watching your story unfold, aching from the sidelines. There was something about you that captivated him—perhaps it was the way you seemed to bring a kind of life to those around you, or maybe it was simply how you existed in Sebastian’s orbit.

But there was one thing that bothered him more than anything: Allison.

It pained him to know how she had manipulated your life, how she had sunk her claws into Sebastian’s world and, by extension, yours. Painter had known for some time what Allison was up to, and unlike Sebastian, he could see right through her facade.

Just like Allison, Painter had developed his own plan.

But his wasn't born out of selfishness or jealousy. It was something else—something more complex. While he hated to admit it, he wanted to find a way to cross paths with you, to help you in a way that would loosen the hold Allison had over you. And maybe, just maybe, he'd get closer to you in the process.

Though Painter’s mind was sharp, his heart was tangled in emotions he didn’t yet fully understand.

The last person who could understand Painter’s feelings was you.

You were navigating the city streets, your hands busily typing on your phone, trying to figure out where exactly you needed to go. With your streaming account temporarily banned, you had decided to get your laptop fixed—the keys were loose, and the screen was slightly cracked. The device had been with you for years, but it was clearly on its last legs. Maybe it was time for a new one, but for now, fixing it seemed like the easier option.

Eventually, you spotted it: a neat little shop with good reviews online. It seemed like the right place, and with a deep breath, you stepped inside.

Immediately, the smell of coffee greeted you. The shop had a warm, comfortable atmosphere, far cozier than you’d expected for a tech repair spot. There were shelves lined with new devices, a small selection of popular games, and a table for waiting customers. Despite the welcoming vibe, the place seemed empty—except for a young man at the counter.

He caught your eye right away, dressed in a casual yet stylish outfit that seemed effortless. His name tag drew your attention next, and you noticed something curious: an elegant name had been crossed out with a dry black marker, replaced with a word scribbled hastily over it—"Painter."

You weren’t sure what to make of him, but something about him seemed different. And without knowing it, the moment you stepped into the shop, you had walked into his world.

"Uhm, hi?" you greeted, your voice breaking the silence.

The young man behind the counter stared at you, caught off guard as if you had walked in at the worst possible moment. His eyes lingered on you for just a second too long, making the situation feel a bit awkward. There was something about the way he looked at you—almost like you had thrown him off balance. The way his gaze fixed on you, wide and a little too intense, made you wonder if you’d interrupted something.

"Oh, h-hello! Welcome, greetings. How can I help you today?" he stammered, clearly flustered. His response was a mix of polite and awkward, as though he hadn’t expected anyone to walk in. Maybe he wasn’t used to customers, or perhaps he was just an intern still getting the hang of things. Either way, he seemed utterly unprepared.

You smiled politely, deciding not to dwell on his awkwardness. "I’m here to get my laptop fixed," you explained, pulling the device from your bag and setting it on the counter. "It's been acting up—some of the keys are loose, and the screen's a bit cracked."

He nodded, though you noticed his hands were a bit shaky as he reached for the laptop. "Right, of course. I’ll take a look."

As he started inspecting the device, you took a moment to glance around the shop again, feeling oddly comfortable despite the rocky start to the conversation. There was something about him, though—his nervous energy, the way he seemed to be trying so hard to maintain a professional front. It was endearing in its own way.

What you didn’t know was that Painter wasn’t usually like this. Normally, he was calm and collected, able to handle even the most difficult situations. But the moment you walked in, something shifted. He had seen you before, from a distance, but never this close, and he wasn’t prepared for the rush of feelings he hadn’t even realized were there.

A small, unspoken crush had quietly crept up on him. He didn’t know why, but there was something about you that drew him in. And now, standing there with your laptop in his hands, he was doing his best to keep it together.

"I can take a look at it later. I’d say you can pick it back up… in like a week?" Painter offered, casting a polite smile your way. His expression was calm and professional, but beneath that exterior, his heart was racing.

You nodded, accepting his answer. After settling some details, you left your beloved laptop in his care, trusting him with the task. It felt strange to part with it, but the shop seemed reliable enough, and Painter—despite his awkwardness—seemed competent.

As you exited the store, you had no idea what you’d just set in motion.

For Painter, this wasn’t just a simple repair job. When you left your laptop with him, you unknowingly handed him exactly what he needed—the tools to execute the plan he’d been carefully crafting. Allison had been manipulating both you and Sebastian for far too long, and now Painter had the opportunity to expose her for what she truly was.

Your laptop would be the key to unraveling her schemes, and he was determined to set everything right, even if it meant crossing a few lines along the way.

Five people had already been moved. Now, it was Painter's turn to move them again, or at least some of them.

He had you exactly where he wanted. You left the shop, your laptop in his possession. That was step one. Now, he had to breach your digital privacy. He’d never done anything like this before, and the thought of doing what Allison had once done left a heavy weight in his gut. Yet, as soon as you left, he got to work. The laptop was old, practically ancient, but logging into your profile was easy—there wasn’t even a password. Your naivety was almost charming.

Everything was there—passwords, emails, data, and every digital memory. It was essentially Jelly’s—no, your—entire identity, captured in one place. He could call Sebastian, expose the laptop, and reveal his nasty girlfriend’s secrets. But no, Painter was above that. He preferred to play god.

His personality was usually against it but he will gladly bend the rules for his best friend…and his own potential crush.

Step two was breaching the streaming website to reclaim your account. A task simple enough for a Yale student with the right tools. Allison thought she'd been 'Jellycatfished,' but now it was Painter in control.

The account was exactly as you and Allison had left it. He couldn’t resist clicking on one of the stream recaps, your voice filling the room through the laptop speakers. There it was—undeniably yours.

He snatched his phone off the counter and dialed a number.

“‘Delia, bring the camera and the good microphone. We’re shooting something at the shop.” Cordelia, another worker in the store and a small-time content streamer, was known for her quirky charm. He knew she was the perfect partner for what he had in mind.

“Painter? For what?” she asked.

“We’re about to make someone a star.”

Cordelia didn’t hesitate. She was on her way, gathering the equipment for a hidden camera setup along with a quality microphone."

Next, it was Painter's turn to text Allison. He still remembered her number from when he’d seen it on Sebastian’s phone. A plan began to form in his mind, one that required precision and just the right touch of manipulation.

'Hey, Allison, right? Sebastian left a gift for you here. Here’s the address.'

He included the shop’s address, carefully typing it out before hitting send. He imagined the moment her phone would buzz, her eyes narrowing at the unexpected message. Would she hesitate, wondering if it was real? Or would her curiosity get the best of her?

Painter smiled to himself. Everything was falling into place. He wasn’t just setting a trap—he was weaving a performance, a story in which Allison would play a crucial role. Now, all he had to do was wait for the show to begin.

It was evening, and the store had long since closed, lights were out, though Painter had left the door unlocked. Everything was meticulously arranged—candles flickered softly, casting a warm glow around the room; a bouquet of red roses sat elegantly on the counter. But the centerpiece was Painter himself, dressed in an expensive, perfectly tailored cotton suit. He had spent hours preparing, adjusting his tie, combing his hair, making sure every detail was flawless. As he caught his reflection in the window, he almost didn’t recognize himself. He had never looked better.

Then, the door creaked open, and Allison stepped in. She wore a tight red dress that clung to her in all the right places, her hair perfectly styled. She carried herself with an air of confidence, as if she expected something grand—but her eyes betrayed her surprise as they scanned the room. The soft candlelight, the roses, and finally, they settled on Painter.

For a moment, there was silence as their gazes met.

"Let me introduce myself," Painter began, his voice calm and formal, though inside, the sweetness of his own tone made him sick. He forced a charming smile, the kind that was too perfect, too practiced. "I’m Painter—it’s a nickname," he added with a soft chuckle, as if trying to break the ice. "And I’m the heir to Urbanshade Corp."

He let the weight of his words linger, watching her reaction. He could see the curiosity in her eyes, the slight confusion.

"You’re probably wondering why you’re here," he continued, his voice smooth and rehearsed, like this was a well-orchestrated play.

This wasn’t just a conversation—it was a performance, and she had walked right into his scene.

"Painter? What’s going on? Where’s Sebastian?" Allison asked, her voice laced with surprise, though Painter could see she was already caught in his web.

"He’s not here. Sorry, I lied," Painter admitted, his tone smooth, but with a playful hint. He took a slow step toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. "Can you really blame me for wanting to be alone with someone so beautiful?"

He took another step, closing the distance between them.

"So... funny."

He was closer now, almost brushing against her.

"And intelligent?" His voice dropped to a whisper as he stood chest to chest with her, his breath warm against her ear.

Allison's eyes flickered with realization. The heir to Urbanshade Corp, standing so close, so eager—was he asking her out? Maybe it wasn’t so crazy to consider. A man of his status, his wealth... she could have a little fun on the side. A side fling wouldn’t hurt, right?

She placed a hand on his chest, feeling the crisp fabric of his suit under her fingers, catching the scent of his expensive aftershave. "You’re quite charming yourself," she said, her voice laced with a fake giggle designed to make men fall at her feet. But Painter played along, his smile widening.

"Oh?" he murmured, his voice dripping with charm. "Maybe you’d like to show me just how much?"

Allison leaned in, rising onto her toes to meet his height, her lips brushing close to his own, not touching yet. The tension between them was thick, charged with unspoken possibilities. For a brief moment, Painter thought he had her, that she was playing into his hands.

But then she stopped.

His lips hovered just shy of her skin as he whispered, "How much... you’re lying."

The playful edge in his tone had vanished, replaced by cold calculation. He would love to slap her, simply for cheating on his best friend. But now was hardly the time, not like this.

“You are not supposed to be his girlfriend. You are not Jelly and you don't deserve him.” His words caught her in surprise before she seemed to laugh.

“What do you know? They stole my identity! Ask Sebastian! I am the victim!” It was a poor try to defend herself.

“A victim? Another brilliant lie, congratulations. You officially make me sick.” The words were enough to set off her rage and she raised a hand to hit him, a hand that he caught in the middle of the action. “Don't you dare.”

“You know what? Fine, to hell with you. I am NOT them but it doesn't matter because everyone believes me anyways. I HAVE PLAYED YOU ALL. I GOT THE ACCOUNT BANNED. FUCK YOU, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU STUPID IDIOTS. SEBASTIAN IS MINE AND I WON. I AM RIGHT AND I HAVE WON. I STOLE THEIR IDENTITY AND BECAME JELLYCATFISHED.”

Suddenly, the ceiling lights blazed to life, flooding the store in harsh white light. Allison blinked, momentarily blinded, as Cordelia stepped out from behind the shadows, a sly grin on her face.

"And that’s a wrap!" Cordelia announced, her voice dripping with amusement. "Great work, everyone. So authentic, Painter." She shot her boss a playful wink.

Allison’s eyes darted from Cordelia to Painter, confusion overtaking her. A second ago, she had been in control—or so she thought. But now, the anger and seduction drained from her face, replaced by a wide-eyed, flabbergasted look. She felt like a deer caught in headlights, utterly lost.

"You see," Painter began, his voice smooth but laced with triumph, "43 thousand people just witnessed your grand confession. Live and in full HD." He let the weight of his words sink in, a twisted smile forming as he saw the realization dawn in her eyes. "You’re a star now, Allison. Just like you always wanted to be."

Cordelia had filmed it all—the near-cheating, the manipulation, the confession—and streamed it live on Jellycatfished, the very platform that had become Allison’s downfall.

Painter took a step back, admiring his work. His plan had come together beautifully, every detail falling into place like a carefully painted masterpiece. He couldn’t help but applaud himself mentally for the sheer brilliance of it all. Soon enough, the lawsuit would hit Allison—public shame was only the beginning.

Outside the store, Sebastian stood frozen, just out of sight but close enough to hear everything. His phone was clenched tightly in his hand, his knuckles white with the pressure. He had seen the signs but ignored them, convinced he knew the truth. But now, as the reality of what had unfolded hit him, it was clear.

He had been wrong. And he had lost.

[reidsbabyhoney]

hi love!

saw that you write for hozier, and was wondering if you could write something fluffy. maybe since the tour is ending soon, maybe him coming home for the first time in a while?

xx

in which andrew is finally back from tour and you couldn't be happier.

pairing: hoizer x fem!reader category: fluff cw: tiniest bit of angst if you squint. he walks out in a towel and reader has some interesting thoughts. no use of y/n. wc: 1.3k a/n: thank you so much for requesting! this was so much fun to write, I was listening to 'unknown' when this request came in so it is very lightly inspired by that. and by very lightly I mean I took inspiration from the line 'you know the distance never made a difference to me'. this is my first time writing in a while so please be kind. lots of love!! (also he looks so cute in this picture, I can't get over it.)

You were basically buzzing with anticipation. Having to stay in Wicklow for work had its ups and downs. One of the most notable downs was that when Andrew went away for tour, there were long gaps you would go without seeing each other.

You had seen him two months ago when he had the smallest break from tour, and you called almost every night updating each other on your days. Usually, you'd fall asleep on the phone due to the time difference, but he had the habit of carrying his phone with your sleeping face covering the screen until you woke up. Recalling the time you woke up when he was in the middle of a concert, his phone being propped up on a stand off to the side of the stage.

But today Andrew was finally coming home. No more music festivals to perform at, no more concerts to hold, no more award shows to attend. He would finally be all yours.

You felt a bit guilty, knowing how much he loved performing and seeing his fans, but you were counting down the seconds until he walked through the doors of your shared home.

The clock was inching closer to 6pm, which was the time Andrew said he would be home. Never being someone who had patience for much, you were sitting outside on the porch swing you insisted he install a few years ago.

Finally a black car pulled into the driveway and Andrew stepped out. Sprinting to him like there was an Olympic medal to be won at the end of your journey you jumped into his arms once you reached him.

"Missed you so much love." he says into your hair as he holds you up, making sure you don't fall from his tight grip around your waist.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're finally home." you say as hugging him tightly as if he would disappear from your hold.

Letting go, you get a good look at him and see his hair seemed to grow a bit longer in the two months you were apart. Though, he also seemed to have given up on the routine you've tried to have him stick to since you started dating.

"You're hairs grown." You admire how beautiful he looks, but that might just be because your boyfriend is a 6 '6 Irish man that looks like he came from the woodlands of a fairytale.

"Hm, you like it?" he questions looking into your eyes for a second before putting you down onto solid ground.

"I love it." With that, you make your way up the steps of the house, one of his lighter bags in hand.

Andrew follows close behind you into the house, not missing how every inch spotless and nearly reflective.

Andrew knew you well, too well sometimes. He knew that you got anxious when he was away, and that made him feel both relieved and guilty. Relieved because he was finally home and could hold you in his arms. Guilty because he was away for so long.

Sneaking up behind you, he rests his head on your shoulder as he wraps his arm around you.

"Y'know I'm home for good right. Got my studio right here and the label already knows I won't release a new album for a few years. I'm all your’s angel."

At his words you melt into him. "I know, but you know how I get when you're away. Especially when you're flying. Was just worried is all."

He plants a soft kiss at the top of your head at your response. Turning around in his arms you look up at him and see how tired he really is.

"Y'know I love you with my whole heart, but you really should get in the shower so we can eat."

He lets out a huff, releasing you from his grip. Turning to make his way upstairs you get the ingredients out to make a simple pasta dish. Something you know will be filling for you both.

You're nearly done with dinner, the sauce being the only thing that needs to be seasoned and you realized Andrew still hasn't come from your bedroom. He isn't one to take long in the shower so you begin to worry. Quickly throwing in the final seasoning of oregano and thyme into the sauce, you lower the heat on both burners being used, and make your way up the stairs to look for your boyfriend.

Stepping into your shared bedroom, you're met with a cloud of mist as the connecting door to the bathroom opens. Seeing your boyfriend walk out in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist made your two months of celibacy very known throughout your body.

"I see some drool slipping past your lips, love, best wipe it away before whoever it is you're lusting after knows." he teases lightly, before he walks to the dresser to grab some clothes to change into.

Shaking the thoughts out of your head as an embarrassed blush grows over your face, you clear your throat quickly as a recovery.

"The food’s done downstairs whenever you're ready?" It comes out as more a question than a statement, still flustered over your boyfriend's appearance.

Andrew turns his head slightly and gives you a knowing smirk, "I'll be down right after I change."

With that you leave him to change and quickly make your way downstairs.

Still a bit flustered once you get to the kitchen, you make a plate for each of you, putting them down in your designated spots at the dining room table, sitting next to each other.

You hear Andrew before you see him, softly humming the tune of ‘Unknown/Nth’.

Taking a seat next to you, he rests his hand on your thigh before digging into the food.

Acting like a man starved, he basically inhales his food before you've even finished half of yours.

"Do they not feed you properly in America or what." you ask, eyes basically popping out of your head, surprised he's already finished his plate

"Nothing could beat a home cooked meal of yours." he says, giving you a brief kiss on the cheek before getting up to rinse his dish.

Finishing your own plate, you walk over to the sink where Andrew stands.

"Leave your plate angel. I'll clean the kitchen, you can go get ready for bed. Know you're tired." he says as a yawn slips from his mouth.

Going up on your tiptoes, you leave a sloppy kiss on his cheek with a smile and head towards the bathroom to take a quick shower.

Nearly falling asleep while rinsing out your hair, you quickly wash your body. and finish your shower. Stepping out, you cover yourself in a towel before opening the door to grab some pajamas to wear. Pajamas that consist of one of Andrew's shirts and a pair of sleep shorts.

Climbing into bed you wait for Andrew to come up to bed.

Closing your eyes for what you think is just a second, you're woken up when he crawls into bed, obviously trying not to disturb you and failing.

"Sorry love, was just coming to sleep."

Rolling over so you’re facing him, you wait for him to get comfortable in the bed before crawling into his arms. If you could crawl into his skin that's what you would be doing right now.

"Missed you so much, 'm so glad you're finally home."

Releasing a small breath, he brings you closer to him, -if that was even physically possible- and plants another kiss on your forehead. "Me too, angel, me too. Next time I'm dragging you on tour with me."

With a small laugh, you let your body rest against his and sleep consumes you.

Feeling the exhaustion finally hit him, Andrew gets a good night's rest for the first time in what felt like years. His love in his arms. He's sure that not even oceans away performing in arenas he would dream of selling out as a child, could beat the feeling of having you fast asleep in his arms. 

all notes and reposts are appreciated!! loving you always xx

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Hey! I wanted to see if you'd want to do a band!au with marauders . I was watching the kool kids maneskin, Tokyo concert, I couldn't help but think how problematic it actually could be. Something happens maybe someone makes the fem!reader uncomfortable and stuff goes down, everybody's like she's too arrogant and disrespectful and so on. How the marauders defend and comfort her etc with some fluff. Thanks!

You're Strong

Platonic!Marauders x Reader (Minus Peter)

AN: I love this request sm

Cw: 3704

CW: use of {Y/N}, Sexual Harassment, Victim blaming, sexual innuendos, a lot of cussing and shouting

Latex and a shitty cologne seemed to cling to your nose like a taunt, even in the supposed safety of your dressing room. You clung to the small vanity top, trying to rid your nostrils of the foul odor that seemed to cling to you like an unwanted memory.

This wasn’t your first time experiencing something like this, but it was the first since you joined the band.

Back in college, James had gotten on his hands and knees, begging you to fill in for Peter on guitar after their falling out. At the time, you and the boys ran in the same friend group but never really collided- except for Remus, who would write his songs with you.

James didn’t have a clue who you were until Sirius told him you were the one who taught Marlene how to strum. It took some convincing, but after some gentle prodding from Remus and downright devious tactics from Sirius, you finally caved. One song. One gig.

You should have known that wouldn’t have been the case. The moment your first performance was a hit, they practically hounded you around the clock to join them for more. Eventually, after a few failed guitarists, you agreed to go on tour with them.

Never once in the six weeks you had been on the road did you feel unsafe. It was your main concern. You weren’t scared of the boys, but traveling to a new city every night as a girl was a nightmare. You voiced your concerns to them, and they swore they wouldn’t force you into something dangerous. They were always with you at every point- one of them tied to your hip from the moment you exited your hotel room to the second you entered it.

But tonight was different. The moment you stepped on stage, you could tell it wasn’t like your normal performances. The producers had sprung something on James last minute, and you could hear him arguing from behind the curtain while you and Sirius exchanged worried glances.

When James came back, he was red in the face but greeted the crowd with his bright smile. You relaxed slightly, falling into the rhythm of the performance. Then, James introduced two more bands to the stage local to the area. Not just their instruments, but their bloody groupies as well.

The stage was suddenly flooded with people. Men and women danced, far too close. You looked to Remus in a panic, trying to keep your strumming even on your cues. Sirius seemed shocked but into the act, and James continued singing as if nothing was wrong. But for you, the stage had become a personal hell. The noise was deafening, and the people were too close- men grinding on you, women making crude remarks that only worsened your anxiety. It wasn't something you hadn't experienced before. But your boys were there. And they were doing nothing. Sweat and cheap plastic glitter assaulted your senses, making it hard to breathe.

The mix of sounds and overwhelming amount of strangers in your safe space made the stage feel like a claustrophobic nightmare. You tried to focus, to keep playing, but each note felt like a struggle. The safety you had once felt with the band was slipping away, replaced by a rising tide of panic.

Then, a husky smell hit your nose. This cologne you couldn't place, and the smell of burnt latex, as a man walked behind you and grinded on you. But he didn't pass by after, no, he stayed and pressed his entire waist against your back. You felt like you could heave, but instead of sobbing like you wanted to, you lashed out in anger.

You turned and practically snarled at him, your shouts barely audible over the music. “Piss off!”

“Woah, woah woah, no need to be so feisty.” He chuckled as he passed, muttering a simple, “Fucking prude.” as he went.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the adrenaline surging through your veins like wildfire. The blaring attack of music, shouting, and laughter melded into a disorienting blur. Your vision tunneled, and it felt like the walls were closing in. You tried to focus on your guitar, to find some semblance of normalcy, but your fingers were trembling too much to play properly.

James, always the charismatic frontman, seemed to notice your distress. He made his way over to you, still singing, his eyes filled with concern. He offered you sympathetic eyes, but even then, in his understanding you were even more upset. How dare he not warn you?

James’s presence, usually so comforting, felt like a betrayal tonight. You wanted to scream at him, to demand why he hadn’t given you a heads up about the chaos that would unfold on stage. But you knew this wasn’t the time or place. Truly, you didn't know if he knew either.

Your breaths became shallow and rapid, your chest tightening with each passing second. The stage lights felt unbearably hot, and the noise seemed to amplify, each beat of the drums pounding in your skull. You almost snapped at Sirius, as he slammed the instrument worked in tandem with your throbbing head. The people on stage began to mutter and laugh, you didn't need to hear what they were saying to know it was directed at you.

With a deep breath, you forced yourself to keep playing, though your notes were shaky and uneven. You could see Remus and Sirius exchanging worried glances, sensing the shift in your usually electric energy. James, ever the performer, managed to keep the crowd entertained, though his focus never strayed far from you.

But it was too much. The world around you felt like it was spinning out of control, your vision blurring with unshed tears. Your hands felt clammy, your grip on the guitar slipping. The overwhelming sense of panic clawed at your throat, making it hard to breathe.

The second the fifth song ended, you shoved your strings at one of the other band members before walking off stage. You couldn't do it. You couldn't even think clearly on that damn stage, let alone play. The need to escape, to find a quiet space where you could breathe, was overpowering.

You made your way backstage, your breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. The noise of the crowd and the band faded into the background as you found a secluded corner, sinking to the floor. You hugged your knees to your chest, trying to ground yourself, feeling the cold, hard floor beneath you.

As you sat there, the adrenaline began to dissipate, leaving you feeling drained and exhausted. The panic attack had taken its toll, but in the quiet of the backstage, you could finally start to piece yourself back together.

You stormed off to your dressing room where you were now, finally allowing yourself to break down.

You had never had a panic attack so publicly before. Replaying the memory only made it worse, as embarrassment took over the panic remembering how harshly you reacted. But why did you feel guilty?

Suddenly there was a firm knock on the door. You looked at the clock and winced. Did they stop the show early? Fuck.. your poor fans.

You didn't answer, you never did. Walking over to the bathroom to splash water on your face as you heard the door open.

“The hell were you thinking, James!?” Sirius’s shouts filled the room and you shook your head, cleaning off the makeup you now made a mess of.

“I didn't know it was going to happen! They sprung it on me too, Pads!” James shouted and Remus huffed.

“You should of said no, James.” Remus scolded and James waved his hand dismissively.

He walked up to your bathroom door and knocked, leaning his ear against it. “Hey, you good in there, {Y/N}?” He asked cautiously.

You schooled your expression once more before you swung the door open. Looking at the boy in front of you, his sweaty body covered in glitter and giving you a startled look. “Since when did the stage becomes a fucking rave!?” Your voice was loud and you tried to sound angry, but you were on the verge of tears again. Clueless as to why this seemed to affect you so much.

James's eyes widened as he saw the raw emotion in your face. He took a step back, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "I know, I know. It was a mess. I'm sorry, {Y/N}. If I had known, I would have stopped it before it started. Just- they were already in the back when Gideon told us, said it was a deal the producers made to get this place more attention, ya know?”

“Oh sob off with that crap! She's fucking scared, man!” Sirius snapped behind James and Remus scoffed.

“And you're not making it much better, Sirius.” Remus huffed before turning to you with gentle eyes. Ones you were used to, ones that always meant safety. You walked over and sniffed a bit, coming undone easily. Especially when he pulled you into a hug.

Remus rubbed your back and let you ruin his new shredded shirt. His bandaid covered hand slipping behind her head to let you muffle your sobs into his chest.

Eventually, your sobbing stopped, and Remus found himself inspecting you. “Hey..” He whispered after a moment of exchanging looks with the boys. “You're alright, pretty girl.” He cooed and you slowly smiled.

He took the chance to take a peek at you, only to see you smiling brighter at his glance. They had a way of soothing your more erratic emotions, so easily.

“Is she smiling?” James called out in a teasing tone. You rolled your eyes and pulled away from Remus with a sniffle.

“You guys always call me that.” You huffed and Remus laughed. “What? Pretty girl?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite the lingering tension. "Yeah, 'pretty girl.' It's like you think I'm some delicate flower, I'm a big girl.”

Sirius grinned, his usual mischievous spark returning. "Well, you are pretty, and you are our girl. Even if sometimes you're abusive." He cheeked and you shot him a glare.

“See? My groupies would have lost their shit at that line. I just get death glares.” Sirius dramaticized as he looked at James who snickered.

James gave a fond sigh, shaking his head. "Well, to be fair, Pads, it just shows {Y/N} has standards."

At that, you laugh and Remus smiled at you. “There she is.”

“Oh stop that.” You gave a small nervous smile and pushed his face to look away. He laughed before he kissed your calloused palm, turning to face you. He gave you one last comforting squeeze before letting go, his eyes still filled with love and gentle concern. "Seriously though, {Y/N}, we never want you to feel like that again. We need to make sure our performances are safe for everyone, especially you. Trust me, we were shit without a guitar.”

You rolled your eyes fondly but let his words seep in. Knowing he truly meant them.

You took a deep breath, feeling a bit more grounded with the boys around you. "I appreciate it, really. Just... next time, let's make sure there are no surprises, okay?"

James nodded earnestly. "Absolutely. No more surprises. We'll make sure everything is run by you first. You're part of this band, and you deserve to feel safe and respected."

Sirius threw an arm around your shoulder and gave you a squeeze. “Yeah, I mean, if you weren't here we'd just be a bunch of dudes jerkin it.”

You gave him a slack jaw at his crude remark, before Remus rolled his eyes.

“Something tells me you wouldn't mind that, Sirius.” James laughed and you quickly shooed Sirius’s arm off of you.

“You two talk like virgins and it's starting to become sad.” You huffed. “But I'm ready to go back on stage. It's been a hot minute now.”

James barked a laugh and you looked at him surprised. You hit his chest and he held your hand with a playful wince. “Sorry, sorry, just trying to imagine going back on stage after Sirius busted that bastard’s lip. I don't think the show is still on.”

“You did what!?” You exclaimed in shock, turning to Sirius. He didn't look even the least bit guilty, just grinning ear to ear like some damned cat. He shrugged nonchalantly. "What can I say? No one messes with our girl and gets away with it."

You shook your head, a mix of disbelief and amusement. Not to mention the endless about of affection and safety you felt. "Sirius, you can't just go around punching people."

"Well, I can and I did," he replied with a wink. "He deserved it. Dudes still lucky he has a heart beat."

Remus sighed, though a small smile played on his lips. "Let's just make sure we handle things a bit more diplomatically next time, yeah?"

James chuckled, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “I'm sure {Y/N} has no problems with it-”

Before the quips could continue, suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Sirius huffed and turned to slam it open. “What?!” He boomed and came face to face with a very angry producer.

“The hell are you all doing in here mingling? You have a crowd out there waiting to watch you play!” He boomed. Despite yourself, you suddenly clamed up. Oddly, you were unable to speak. Even as you tried to force yourself, the words felt like they were trapped in your chest. Your breathing increasing.

“We had an issue with a guy on stage-” Remus started and the producer scoffed. “Yeah, we all saw it! That's no excuse! These people paid good money-”

“I-I'm not going back out there.” You finally stammered out. He scoffed at you and Sirius tightened his jaw.

“I'm sorry, princess, please continue to believe the world revolves around you. But do that on the stage?” He pushed and you choked out a scoff.

“He-”

“Isn't that what you kids do? You party hard you have fun, can't blend those two together?”

The producer’s words cut through the air like a knife, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. Your hands trembled as you tried to pull yourself together, but the panic was threatening to overwhelm you again.

Sirius, however, was having none of it. He stepped forward, his eyes blazing with anger. "Listen here, you pompous ass. She was sexually harassed on stage, and you think she should just suck it up and keep playing? How about you show a bit of human decency?"

The producer sneered, clearly unimpressed. "This is a business, Black. If she can't handle the heat, maybe she shouldn't be on stage."

Remus stepped in, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Sirius’s fury. “Sir, I think that a discussion needs to be had about our safety on stage before any of us return to it.”

“I refuse to work like this.” You challenged again and the Producer scoffed.

“Listen, kid, everyone deals with stuff like this in show biz. Don’t be arrogant.”

You took a shaky breath and tried to still the next shiver that rocked through you. Again, your words were gathering in your throat like film. “No-”

“Kid.” The producer spoke more sternly this time.

James had been standing quietly, his fists clenched at his sides as he listened to the exchange. But the producer's dismissive attitude was the final straw. He stepped forward, his usually bright and cheerful eyes now dark with anger.

"That's enough!" James's voice rang out, startling everyone in the room. He pointed a finger at the producer, his hand shaking with barely contained fury. "How dare you speak to her like that! She's not just some performer you can push around. She's our friend, our bandmate, and she deserves respect! If you want this fucking band to work how about you worry about that freak in the back with the bloodied nose? Get him the fuck outta here!”

The producer opened his mouth to retort, but James cut him off, his voice growing louder. "You think this is just showbiz? You think it's okay for someone to be harassed and then forced to keep performing? What kind of person are you? I promise you, if she wasn't overwhelmed enough as it is-”

"James-" The producer began, but James wasn't done.

"No. You don't wanna listen to her, you're gonna listen to me. We've put up with a lot of shit from you. But she is where I draw the line. Is that understood?”

James's outburst left the room in stunned silence. The intensity of his words hung heavy in the air, and even the producer seemed momentarily taken aback. But the anger in James's eyes was unyielding with that fire and familiar protectiveness he held for everyone, but it seemed to be focused purely on you.

The producer, clearly flustered, tried to regain his composure. "Look, James, I understand you're upset, but-"

"No, you don't understand." James interrupted, his voice steady but seething with controlled rage. "This isn't just about being upset. This is about basic human decency. You don't get to treat her like that. Any of us! If you can't guarantee our safety and respect, then we're done here."

Sirius had a moment where he stared awestruck at James. Clearly proud. “What the big guy said.”

Remus nodded in agreement, his eyes never leaving the producer's. "James is right. This isn't negotiable. If you can't ensure our safety and treat us with respect, we're not stepping back on that stage."

The producer, now visibly shaken, tried to salvage his authority. "Okay, okay, let's not get hasty here. I-I'll talk to the guy and make sure he's removed from the venue. We can... we can make some adjustments."

James took a step closer, his demeanor still tense but slightly more controlled. “Good.. bloody good, yeah.” He sighed and rubbed his temple. “Now-”

“Get the fuck out!” Sirius shouted over James as his tone turned polite.

The producer mumbled something under his breath before he gathered what little pride he had and ran off.

You stood there shaking slightly, taking deep and steadying breaths when the door closed. James looked back to you and his eyebrows knit together with worry.

“Hey, sorry.” He cooed and muttered your name. Walking over only to give a soft ooph as you crashed into his chest with a tight hug.

This felt right. This felt safe.

It hit you why everything was crashing on you so hard. You have always been so strong, so determined, so ruthless. When the boys came along they smoothed out your edges with so much gentle care you forgot at times you needed to protect yourself.

Though, relying on them wasn't something you found unpleasant. You had been so strong all the time you forgot what it felt like to rely on someone. Let alone three practical guard dogs.

“I'm sorry you had to do that.” You whispered and James absolutely melted at the tender tone.

“Nope. You're not allowed to apologize for that.” James whispered and pulled you close and firm against him. You hummed and nuzzled your nose into his neck a bit. Not embarrassed to come undone in his arms.

“I'm still sorry. I hate to see you so upset…”

James sighed, his voice softening. "Seeing you upset is what makes me upset. Still debating going to give him another piece of my mind. I mean, who the fuck talks to someone like that?"

“James.” Remus warned and he huffed, nuzzling his nose into your hair. Finding comfort with you so close.

Safe.

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but you quickly wiped it away, not wanting to let the emotions overwhelm you again. Sirius and Remus moved closer, forming a protective circle around you.

Sirius placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his earlier anger now replaced with concern. "You're alright, yeah? Come on, I hate seeing pretty girls cry.”

“Fuck off.” You choked out and Remus chuckled, rubbing your back.

Sirius gave a small, genuine smile. "That's the spirit. Just wanted to see a bit of that fire back."

You couldn't help but laugh through your tears, feeling the warmth and safety of your friends surrounding you. Remus continued to rub your back soothingly, his touch grounding you in the moment.

James pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. "You don't have to be strong all the time, {Y/N}. We're here for you. Always."

You nodded, taking a deep breath. "I know. And I appreciate it. I really do. I just... I wasn't expecting any of this tonight."

Remus gently wiped away a tear from your cheek. "I sure hope you weren't. It shouldn't have happened." He muttered, a bit guilty. Having seen it all go down and fighting every bit of himself not to move. You seemed like you had it handled- he didn't want to make a mockery of your strength. But when you left crying he almost screamed.

Sirius clapped his hands together, his usual mischievous grin returning. "Alright, sad sacks, enough of this sappy shit. Let's regroup, grab a drink, and figure out our next move. And if anyone else messes with our girl, they’ll have to answer to us. And I'm feeling high strung after Jamie’s lil proformance."

You smiled, feeling a newfound sense of strength and determination. The boys had your back, and you knew you could face anything with them by your side.

James nodded, his eyes still filled with concern but also a glimmer of hope. "Let's take a breather, all of us. We’ll decide what to do next, but for now, we need to make sure you're okay."

You took another deep breath, feeling the weight of the night slowly lifting. "Thanks, guys. I really don't know what I'd do without you."

Remus gave you one last comforting squeeze before letting go, his eyes filled with love and gentle concern. "You won't ever have to find out."

[gemissleeping]

Velveteen|Theodore Nott

"He knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else."

Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: As the last surviving witch with ties to an ancient form of magic, Dumbledore has you tracking down horcrux hotspots.

Length: 2.2k

Notes: Angst mostly, some fluff. Blood, swearing, smoking. Percy Weasley hate (valid). This is just a little something I had the urge to write. May or may not continue as a series at this stage.

Fuck trees, fuck trolls, and fuck that smug little Weasley auror from the Ministry. He was a rat in y/n's eyes. A scheming, conniving rodent of a man. How he had even tracked her out there was beyond her. She'd made sure to take all of the precautions Snape had given her.

She'd apparated out with Professor Dumbledore. A good fifty kilometres from the point of interest too, might she add. Fifty kilometres she'd had to trek over two days to remain undetected. On foot. All for nothing in the end thanks to Percy.

Bootlicker.

There was no worse feeling than a failed task. Especially when it was one of her most important to date. The map was atrocious really, they clearly had no idea what they were looking for. Just that y/n should be able to sense it. Sniff it out as though she were some kind of blood hound.

Percy she had sensed. Thankfully she had gotten out before he'd seen her face, or the sea cave entrance she'd been eyeing on the cliffs below. She'd have to go back now. Which was absolutely wonderful and definitely did not make her want to tear her hair out.

Merlin, she thought she might hit the next Weasley she came across just for looking like him if she didn't calm down soon. Not Ginny of course, Ginny was lovely. Ronald was fair game though. Fred she would also be impartial to.

To top things off, y/n now found herself fleeing from the edge of the Forbidden Forest towards the castle. She'd missed the welcome dinner, which was a shame. But in all honesty, may have been a small mercy at this point. At least this way most of the students would be asleep, and she could get into the castle undetected.

It wasn't Dumbledore's fault that the end location of the Portkey had seemingly been inhabited by a troll since he had selected it. But how hard was it to check up on, really? Especially knowing she was wandless and unable to cast any regular spells. She'd blasted it to bits, of course. Not before it had gotten one good shot at her though, flinging her into the nearest pine tree.

It was just rather inconsiderate she thought.

The dizziness was setting in as she entered the castle via the Viaduct Bridge, snaking her way down to the dungeons. Making sure to grip every railing or wall available to her. Merlin was on her side that night, not one Professor crossed her path while she had floated through the dim halls. Once the concrete snake had appeared, revealing the door, she almost fell over with relief

The stairs felt so horrifically long, but finally she reached the dim, candle-lit depths of the Slytherin common room. Keeling forward for a moment, y/n placed her hands on her knees as she tried to calm her breathing. Her left palm came away bloodied. There was a tear in her stockings, and a huge gash across her knee.

y/n groaned, making her way around the corner to the couches her friends had claimed in third year. She couldn't wait to fall into one, maybe never wake if she had her way. And she did fall, only into Theodore Nott's eyeline. He looked as though he'd been waiting there for hours from the sweltering anger on his face. She took a deep breath, knowing she was about to get her ass handed to her for a second time that night.

"Nice of you to notify me of your delay."

"Does it look as though I planned on it?" y/n mumbled, sinking into the green velvet couch across from him. She sighed as her tension eased for the first time in days. Head lolling against the couch's back. Her hands shielding her eyes as a headache set in. While Theodore sat deathly still, awaiting further explanation with a burdened gaze. Something told y/n the burden was her.

"Mind if I borrow your wand?" y/n groaned from behind her palms.

There was only silence for a moment, before she heard him shift across from her. When she lifted her head his wand was resting on the table between them. He was pissed, beyond apprehension. But he had softened at her shattered appearance, the blood on her knee. Which she had now unknowingly painted on her cheek.

"Thank you," y/n sighed in relief, half expecting to have to fight for it. She worked quickly, sealing up the gash and cleansing the blood, pine needles, and dirt from her skin. Finishing by stitching her stockings together again. When she finally glanced back up, Theodore was frowning. His eyes sweeping her body up and down as she finished her work. He looked up from the closing threads of her stockings as they meshed around her knee, one eyebrow raised.

"Have something you'd like to say?" y/n grumbled, holding his wand out for him to take. He wasn't a fan of that question, or her attitude. His expression soured once again, all past concern pushed away. y/n brushed more pine needles off of her skirt, too tired and sore to care. She was spent, so completely crushed from the past two days. The knowledge that she had no choice but to continue until she succeeded wasn't helping.

"Have you always behaved like this, or do you just enjoying making me worry insufferably?" Theo leaned forward, and took the wand from her outstretched hand. His fingertips gently brushing her grazed knuckles.

"It's nice to see you too, Teddy," y/n laughed tiredly, shedding more pine needles as she picked them from her stockings. If she shut her eyes now, she worried they were so heavy she might fall asleep sitting up.

"Where have you been? I searched the whole train up and down for you. You missed the Sorting Ceremony," Theo hissed.

"It's a good thing we already know what house I'm in then, isn't it?"

"That's not funny y/n." He scolded, the concern in his voice thinly veiled by the frown he was wearing. She had no idea what it had been like for him, these past few hours especially.

"I need a cigarette before we get into it," y/n sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Everything was aching, she would find solace in a smoke or two. He didn't move. "Please?"

"It's late."

"You're awake," she countered, a hopeful look on her face that he knew he wouldn't be able to dissapoint.

"Because of you," he grumbled, running his hands through his messy curls.

"I'll take that as a yes, be right back," and she was off, disappearing into the dormitories.

"Do as you please, you always do," Theodore huffed under his breath.

He needed one too if he was honest. He felt as though he'd aged a few decades from the fear he'd been wearing all evening while he fretted over her disappearance.

She reappeared a minute or so later, the heavy overcoat he'd brought her for her birthday last year hanging off of her shoulders. The pair took their usual route until they found themselves at the top of the hill just outside the grounds, overlooking Hagrid's hut. y/n stood, overlooking the moonlit valley beneath them. The peace quickly disintegrating into swearing as the wind prevented her from sparking up. Theo had been hanging behind slightly, still not having forgiven her. But upon hearing the quiet curses falling from her lips, he couldn't help but walk over.

"You shield, I'll light it," he instructed, y/n doing as she was told and holding the sides of her coat up.

He closed the open space with his chest in two gentle steps. His thumb running over the flint of the lighter as the wind went quiet and y/n's face grew warm. He brought it to her lips, unable to keep himself from looking as he lit the cigarette between them. She took a relieved drag as the flame took. Theo got out his own cigarette, leaning down to press its tip to hers. He inhaled, spreading the flame between them. The grass was dewey beneath them as they smoked. Theo looked over to y/n, trailing over her body just to make sure.

"You've got pine needles in your hair, by the way," Theo murmured as he took another drag. His eyes flickering from hers, to the ground as he tapped his cigarette.

"Oh for fuck's sake," y/n heaved, tilting her head back in exasperation. She began ripping the hair ties from her two braids and brushing her fingers through them to shake the needles loose. Balancing her cigarette between her lips as she did.

"Still there," Theo mused, studying her with an amused expression as her frustration grew.

She passed him her cigarette wordlessly, which he took. She'd have rather not set herself alight on top of everything today. Then tipped her head forward, carelessly dragging her fingertips through it to rid herself of them. Once she was done, she flung her hair back. Raising an eyebrow in Theo's direction. He only gave her a saccharine smile as he took a drag from her cigarette, keeping it lit.

"Still?" y/n asked in disbelief, taking her cigarette from his lips and placing it between her own.

"Come here, sit," He shook his head, as though she was the most useless creature he'd ever seen. Theo walked over to the steps nearby, sitting on the top one. She followed suit, tucking her coat beneath her and taking a seat two steps down. She dipped her head back, leaning on her elbows. Her head resting between his knees. Theo couldn't help but admire the way her hair fell, even in its current mess.

Pressing the nub of his cigarette into the grass after one final drag, Theo brushed his hands off. His fingers quickly lacing through her hair in gentle streams as he dragged out the remaining pine needles. Christ there were a lot of them. He ran his fingers through it again, carefully to ensure he didn't snag anything. He did it again, and again. The pine needles were long gone. But her breathing had grown steady, and her shoulders relaxed. And that mattered far more to him than some pine needles.

"All clear?" She whispered sleepily, her head falling all the way back to meet his eyes.

"All clear," Theo echoed, the dried blood beneath her eye making him wince. "You missed this though," he reached out, pressing his thumb to his tongue and running it under her eye to brush the blood away.

"Ew," y/n gasped, but if she was honest, she was too tired to care. She swatted his hand away gently. Taking another drag from her cigarette which had been resting beneath her knuckles.

"Need I remind you that you once sneezed in my mouth?" Theo chimed, knowing it was his trump card, and likely would be for eternity.

"That was literally in First Year and it was an accident," she mumbled.

"Still stands." He shrugged.

"You loved it, don't lie." That got a smile out of him, however unwillingly.

"You're foul. Now tell me why you came in several hours late, looking like a troll dragged you through a bush backwards."

y/n's eyes widened slightly at his statement, choking on the dregs of her cigarette in disbelief. His smile vanished, eyes flickering between her own as he gauged her reaction. His jaw clenched as she sat up swiftly.

"Tell me you're joking."

"I think it's bedtime," y/n breathed, going to push herself up and off of the steps. But Theo's hand found her wrist like a vice, pulling her back down before she had a chance. He leant forward as she stumbled closer to him from the force. She just managed to catch herself from falling straight into him.

"I don't think so. What was that?" He said lowly, staring into her eyes. She was eternally fucked now. He could always tell when she lied, and he never tolerated it.

"Just leave it Theo, please," she pleaded, not having the energy.

"I left it all Summer. All of your disappearances, all of your little quests. You promised me it would be done by the end of the Summer. I have it in fucking writing, so don't tell me to leave it. What is going on?" He seethed, and y/n found herself unable to meet his eyes.

"Teddy, you know I can't-"

"God I'm so sick of hearing that." He laughed, a cruel sound, not his usual light-hearted teasing. "The Professors have you off, running around like some toy soldier, but you're not allowed to tell me what for. Then they're not even there to help you when things go wrong?"

"It's-"

"Despicable is what it is."

"Would you listen to me?"

"I would, but it's not like you'd be able to tell me anything, is it?"

The words left y/n silent, because they were true. She wished so terribly that they weren't. That she hadn't done it.

"I've always told you everything, y/n. I don't understand why-"

"I made the unbreakable vow."

The words rushed out of her as though she were going to be sick. The silence that followed her confession only made it more probable. Theo's features had darkened as her confession sunk in. He let go of her wrist, his hand wound into a fist as he looked out at the treeline of the forbidden forest. He stayed that way for a few moments as y/n stood before him, silently begging him to say something.

"Dumbledore," he breathed out finally, his voice straining with the effort of evenness, "you made the unbreakable vow, with Dumbledore?"

"I had to Theo, it was too important. They can't take any risks. Not until everything is done. I wanted to tell you, more than anything. I still want to-"

"Do you suppose he's ever made Potter make one?" Theo turned to her, looking as though he was about to set them both alight.

Her explanations fell dead on her tongue. They both knew he hadn't. Both knew what Dumbledore was scared of when it came to her.

"I didn't think so either," Theo conceded to her silence, his voice turning hollow. y/n felt something within her crack at the truth of his words. He was wrong, or at least she wanted him to be.

"It's different."

"I'm not sure it is," Theo countered, and he knew he was right in saying it.

Because it wasn't any different. The difference was trust. They were using her up and once they were done they would spit her out, or worse. He wasn't going to be able to sleep easily now.

"You should get to bed, I'll see you at practice tomorrow," he huffed, staring out to the forest again.

y/n stood there for a moment, hoping she could think of something to make it better. But as Theo lit another cigarette, the only thing she felt was tired.