#thank you nonnie. this really is so lovely and kind ;;

[prettydaisygirl]

would love to see a one bed trope with james!!

hi nonnie! Thank you so much for requesting, I hope you enjoy <3 I love one-bed tropes omggggg

friend!James Potter x fem!reader who fall victim to Sirius' trap ✿ 2.0k words

cw: fem reader, James has a crush on reader, they are both awkward, James is a professional athlete, Lily is James' ex (sorry), background wolfstar, Remus had an allergic reaction but Sirius saw an opportunity

james potter masterlist

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James should’ve known Sirius had ulterior motives. He always does.

When Sirius had called him yesterday, James immediately knew something was wrong. Sirius never calls him. He should’ve been more suspicious when he answered and Sirius’ tone was bright and cheery despite the words he was saying.

“Remus had an allergy attack,” Sirius says, and James can hear the hospital machines in the room behind him. Sirius laughs when James asks if Remus will be okay. “He’s fine! You know Moony, he’s resilient!” 

James doesn’t know if Remus is really that resilient, but Sirius seems to blow off his worries, quickly moving on. “Anyway, Prongs, I have a favor to ask you.”

“Yeah?” Upon later reflection, James will again realize that the tone in Sirius' voice should’ve made him suspicious. 

“Rem and I rented a cabin for the weekend, but now with this, we can’t go. And they won’t let us refund it with such short notice.” Sirius’ voice muffles a bit as he seems to turn to say something to Remus, but James can’t make out the words. Sirius turns back and continues, “You should go for us, yeah? Enjoy a nice weekend away, it might be nice to relax and get away from all of your problems.”

James should’ve known better. He always knows better when it comes to Sirius. 

Maybe it was his burnout, or the sounds of the hospital room in the background, but James finds himself agreeing. Which isn’t the stupid part.

The stupid part was not asking anymore questions. 

James is expecting a cabin in the woods. He is expecting quiet peace away from hectic city life, and work, and everything else. 

But he's not expecting you.

James opens the front door as you’re stirring a pot over the stove. You freeze, he freezes, the both of you like deer in headlights.

“Hello,” He says, smiling softly as he steps inside and shuts the cabin door behind him.

“Hi, James!” You say back brightly, setting down your stirring spoon and brushing your hair off your face with the back of your wrists. “What are you doing here?”

“I was… going to ask you that.” James says as he sets his bag down by the front door. He runs a hand through his hair as you pick up a dish towel and wipe off your hands.

“Sirius invited me,” You explain, and glance at the stove again before deciding to reach over and turn it off. James watches your every move. “He said they rented this cabin for their anniversary this weekend, but Remus had to go to the hospital. They didn’t want to waste the reservation… Why are you looking at me like that?”

James blinks a few times and tries to wipe whatever look he must have off his face. “No, I just… that’s what he told me too. He invited me too, just yesterday.”

“Oh,” You say, and then a sharp chuckle escapes your lips, “Why would he do that?”

James knows exactly why Sirius would do that. 

A few weeks ago, after a few too many, James admitted to Sirius that he maybe, sort of, kind of, just a little bit, fancies you. James has had a very hard time getting over Lily after the breakup, and this admission had Sirius grinning like the Cheshire Cat. James had hoped Sirius wouldn’t remember it, and he thought that because Sirius hadn’t mentioned it again, that he didn’t.

Except, evidently, Sirius did remember.

“Well, that’s alright!” You say, the sweet, happy smile returning to your lips. Its familiar presence makes James’ insides flutter. “I can make more soup!”

“Oh, you don’t have to-” Your voice is quick to cut off James’ protests.

“Don’t worry! It will only take me a few minutes,” You wave him off with a hand, already moving to turn the stove back on and begin adding more ingredients.

James takes this moment to slip away and collect himself. He leans down to grab his bag and dashes across the living room to the door on the other side. He opens it and finds the bedroom. 

He runs a hand through his hair, tossing his bag on the bed. He steps into the connected bathroom, turns on the sink, and splashes some water onto his face.

Fuck, He thinks. James was definitely not expecting you. 

He steps back into the bedroom and sits on the bed, only to freeze, his entire body tensing. His eyes dart around the room in disbelief, panic flooding him.

Fuck, again. James thinks. There’s only one bed.

His immediate panic recedes when he realizes he can just sleep on the couch. He groans internally at the thought of having a sore back for a day or two, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. 

Only, when he walks into the living room, there isn’t a couch. Just two wicker chairs. 

Fuck, three times.

He walks back into the kitchen, hearing you humming to yourself as you set two bowls of soup on the table. He pretends like his mind isn’t reeling as he takes a seat, beaming brightly at you. 

“How have you been?” He asks, and he cringes as you sit down. He should’ve gotten your chair for you.

“I’ve been alright! Things have been busy, but what’s new? How have you been? Lily doesn’t talk about you anymore so…” Your voice trails off as you realize you’ve said the wrong thing. James’ stomach churns just a bit at the sound of Lily’s name from your mouth but he pushes it aside quickly. He waves off your anxiety with a wave of his hand.

“I’ve been alright,” James answers, picking up his spoon but not taking a bite yet, “I’ve been throwing myself into the team. We've been doing really well this season. Oh, and I got a new flat a few months ago, it’s nice.” 

He tries to keep his voice steady and you just nod and smile. So far so good, he thinks.

“Sorry for…” Your voice is quiet as you squeeze your eyes shut with embarrassment and James is quick to soothe your anxiety again.

“No, I promise it’s alright. Don’t worry about it. How… How is she?” James asks, and he does care but more than anything he doesn’t want you to think he is hung up on Lily. Their breakup was the hardest thing he’s ever gone through, but it was never going to work out between them and he understands that now.

“She’s alright, she’s… I think she’s getting engaged soon.” You shrug a bit and James gives you a soft smile.

“Good… That’s good.” James says. He hates the way the room is thick and the silence stretches awkwardly in a way that makes his skin crawl. 

You don’t let the tension stop you, speaking up again. “I’ve been watching your games. You’re right when you say the team is doing really well.”

James finds himself both surprised and flattered that you watch them. Maybe you’re just a fan of the sport, but he convinces himself you’re watching it for him. “You watch me? Really?”

He adores the way you become flustered, eyes darting away from his for a moment as you shy, “Well… I mean you’re there, so…”

James chuckles brightly and the room lightens a bit. He shakes it off his shoulders and tilts his head at you. “I wish I would’ve known you were watching. I would’ve shown off for you.” 

Your eyes brighten and James’ heart skips a beat. “You weren’t already?” You ask, the corner of your mouth turning up, and James falls deeper in love with you.

The rest of dinner goes well. James finds the soup you made absolutely delicious, and your company even better. Your laugh is contagious and the both of you find yourself having a good time, especially when you find the bottle of champagne that was seemingly left for Remus and Sirius’ anniversary trip. At the end of the bottle, after moving to sit outside, the two of you are laughing so loud you might have scared off any animals nearby. 

James adores the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh, the way the light from the setting sun causes your irises to glow just a bit brighter. The last of a series of chuckles leaves his lips and James finds himself telling you, “There’s only one bed.”

Your chuckles slow and your brow furrows just a bit, a smile still on your lips. “What?”

“There’s only one bed, and there’s not even a couch.” James’ voice is lighter than normal, and there’s a long moment of silence before the two of you break out into giggles again.

“Oh no,” You say teasingly, giggles slipping out every few words, “I have to sleep with James Potter? How disappointing.”

James knocks into your shoulder lightly with his own, but you don’t move, just letting his shoulder rest against yours. 

“Do you want me to sleep on the floor?” He asks, a surprisingly sober question for his tipsy brain. You shake your head, turning to look at him with your pretty eyes and beautiful smile. The alcohol and the look on your face make his brain fuzzy.

“No,” You say, and James lets his knee fall into yours too. “You can sleep on the bed with me.” 

He lets you get ready for bed first, laying on top of the sheets and simultaneously cursing and thanking Sirius for setting him up like this. You come out in some sleep shorts and a t-shirt and James thinks he might die. Just the sight of the skin of your thighs is enough to have him practically jumping off of the bed and heading into the bathroom. 

When he comes back out, now changed into a pair of boxers and a different t-shirt, you’re already under the covers. He feels his heart pounding in his chest as he slides in next to you. His buzz from the champagne has mostly worn off now, and he can see your eyes shine just a bit in the darkness of the bedroom.

“Is this still okay?” James asks softly, the two of you facing each other. His leg bumps into yours.

“Yes,” You whisper back softly, and you seem to hesitate for just a moment before you place your hand on his. “It’s okay. I want you to sleep here.”

James feels himself practically melt and his body moves closer to your own, your words encouraging him. He squeezes your hand and he can feel the soft puffs of your breath against his face. 

“‘m glad you’re here,” James admits softly and your lips curl into a soft smile. 

“Me too.” You say, and he watches your eyes fall shut for a moment before they open again. The two of you lay there, eyes on each other, until you’re the one who leans forward to press a kiss to his lips. 

It’s soft and sweet, nothing earth-shattering. James thinks it's perfect. He decides to be brave too, and slides an arm around you. You continue to kiss lazily for a few minutes until you yawn. James pulls back enough to pretend to look offended.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?” He asks, voice soft and teasing as he runs a hand up your side. You shiver a bit and smile tiredly.

“Sorry,” You say, voice practically a murmur as sleep calls to you, “I’m sleepy.”

“I know,” James whispers, and he runs a hand through your hair. You smile, letting your eyes close and letting sleep start to take you. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, James.”

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© prettydaisygirl

[dollychou]

oh i am so happy i found your blog…your writing is so so lovely to read, and you write for two of my favs (＞人＜;) thank u sm for posting ur work <3

if i could leave a small request for some soft, tooth-rotting fluff w/ zoro about being taken care of during a rough time TT life is not very good to me right now so anything comforting would be nice. i apologize if it’s a little personal, but thank u so much for your consideration ♡

TREATING THE SWORDSMAN

𝓈ummary ʚଓ zoro is sick and you care to him, helping him out more than you know.

𝒸ontent ʚଓ fluff! this is set right after thriller bark but there are no spoilers. zoro is questioning himself. teeny use of baby talk but just once.

✉️ ྀི . . hi nonnie >_< thank u so much for your kind words and your request — it means so much to me! i really hope this meets your expectations and that whatever you're dealing with passes on. sending you hugs and kisses ❤︎ !

zoro is laying in bed, a cold cloth stuck to his forehead. his temperature is at an all time high, his body feeling like it's on fire. he's coughing every few minutes, a splitting headache being the cherry on top of it all!

to make matters worse, the awfully gruesome wounds he had sustained from thriller bark were hurting tenfold because of his sudden illness. he feels like they're being cut open every time he so much as breathes and it is agonising for him.

he feels so helpless right now, mentally cursing himself for being as affected by everything as he is.

'if only i were stronger,' he thinks, determined to somehow make himself get better quicker so that he can get to training. but with this damned illness, he is tied to the bed, forced to well in not only the physical agony but the one brewing in his mind, making him question his worth as the first mate of the crew.

the only thing that isn't keeping him from completely losing his mind is you. the person who treats him sweeter than anyone else he knows. the person who takes care of him so lovingly — making sure he's fed, that he's getting enough sleep, even cleaning his swords for him; an act he only lets you do. the person who looks out for him, even if it means scolding him for what he does. and being honest, he knows he deserves it even if he doesn't openly admits it.

he hears soft footsteps approaching his bed and he knows it's you, simply by the sound. you sit down, giving him that smile of yours that has his heart swelling with ardour, his entire body seemingly relaxing from your presence alone. you take out the cloth from his forehead, replacing it with a new one.

"how are you feeling?," you ask, gently caressing the sides of his cheek.

he unknowingly leans into your touch, eyes slowly meeting yours. his expression turns from one of torment to contentment before he mumbles quietly, "'m great."

you huff, rolling your eyes at his sarcastic remark. "yup, i'd say you've never looked better," you retort, giggling a little.

he sports a tiny smile, eyes fluttering close. "i knew it. you're falling for me all over again, aren't you?"

you grin at his comment, lightly running your fingers through his hair. he feels his body easing even more, the pain that he was feeling almost forgotten to him.

he notices the bowl placed on your lap and asks, "what you got in there?"

"some tomato soup," you reply, stirring it with the spoon. "come on now. sit up for me."

he grumbles, carefully sitting himself up, placing his back against the headboard. you take a scoop of the soup, bringing it up to your lips and blowing on it before feeding him. "say 'aahh', my sweet little baby," you giggle.

he can't even bring himself to feign annoyance at your antics and opens up, drinking in the soup. it's nice and warm, making him feel ever so slightly better. "does it taste wummy?," you coo, giggling even more at yourself.

"shut up," he retorts, his cheeks growing even hotter but now from embarrassment. "i'm not a damn baby."

you snicker heartily, bringing another spoonful of soup to zoro's mouth again. "you are to me."

after feeding him his dinner and helping him lay back down, you lift up the duvet and tuck yourself in beside him. "what are you doin'?," he asks, concern laced with his words, worried that with you being so close to him would risk you getting sick as well.

"i'm cuddling with you," you answer, gently wrapping your arm around his torso.

"don't-," he begins but is immediately cut off by you, "don't argue. i'm staying here with you." your fingers delicately trace over his arms, the simple action bringing him an immense amount of comfort. he knows that he should get you to sleep in your own room but he just can't bring himself to.

"zoro." it comes out, just barely a whisper.

he faintly hums, his eyes glancing down at you.

"i really do hope you get better soon."

he can hear the genuine worry and care in your voice. for a few moments, it's just silence, his mind mulling over what to say. he knows he's not the best with words but he tries his best. "you're here. that's enough."

he can feel your smile as you place a tender kiss to his cheek. you pepper a few more, a small grin spreading across his lips. with whatever strength he can muster, he pulls you closer to him, your body flush against his side.

as the night wanes on, the only noise now filling the room is your faint little snores. in a matter of moments, you had lulled yourself to sleep, your head resting gingerly on zoro's chest. he feels his own eyes getting heavy, sleep slowly but surely creeping up on him too.

despite the dolour raging inside him — not only from dealing with this illness but from him questioning his own self worth on the crew — the only person who can assuage him, placate him is you. the one he bears his heart to and the only one who he lets tend to him.

© all works belong to dollychou. do not copy, repost, or translate my works.

[whumpdoyoumean]

13, you can choose the victim 😈

thank you :]

I loved that you let me choose the victim on this one, Nonny! It provided the perfect opportunity for me to crank out a lil fic I've been meaning to write for ages, based on a throwaway line in the lightning strike episode where Bobby tells the doctors that Buck is allergic to naproxen (:

xxx "can't – breathe--"

Buck sighs as he heads into the locker room. He'd had a bit of a headache when he woke up this morning and was hoping that eating breakfast would help, but it's still bothering him – nothing too serious, but enough to be an annoyance.

"Hey, Eddie," he says as Eddie opens his locker. "Do you have any ibuprofen?"

"Naw, man, I don't. Sorry about that." Eddie leans around his locker door to look at Buck with a raised eyebrow. "You okay?"

"Just a bit of a headache," Buck says. "It's not a big deal."

"You could ask Chim," Eddie says.

"Ask me what?"

Buck and Eddie look up as Chimney walks in.

"Buck's got a headache," Eddie says.

"It's really not that bad," Buck says, shooting a glance Eddie's way.

"Do you have ibuprofen?" Eddie asks Chimney, pretending he didn't hear.

"Uh, don't think so," Chim says, opening his locker. He digs around for a minute before pulling out a bottle. He looks over at Buck, giving it a little shake. "But I have Aleve. Would that work?"

"Yes, please." Buck holds his hands up, catching the bottle of pills as Chimney tosses it to him. He shakes one of the pills into his palm and pops it into his mouth, washing it down with a swig from his water bottle. He throws the bottle back to Chim. "Thanks."

"No problem, hope it helps."

Buck grins at him. "I can feel it working already."

-

The first call, barely two minutes after the start of shift, is a house fire. It's a small one, thankfully, and the homeowner had called 911 quickly so the 118 is on scene before too much damage is done. It doesn't even take ten minutes to put the flames out and secure the scene. It's an easy call.

So Buck isn't sure why he feels like this: short of breath, nauseous, a little dizzy, and shaken. This is one of the milder calls they've gotten in his time at the 118. So why does he feel like the world is ending?

"Yo, Buck," Eddie says, walking up to where Buck is leaning against the engine. "Are you gonna help pack up or what?"

"Yeah," Buck says, straightening up. "Yeah, sorry. Uh. Did you-are you feeling okay?" Maybe there was something in the house, some chemical in the smoke that's affecting him badly.

Eddie frowns, moving closer to him. "I'm fine. Are you feeling okay? Is it that headache?"

Buck shakes his head, closing his eyes when the movement makes the dizziness worse. He feels Eddie's hand tighten on his arm.

"Whoa, hey, why don't you sit down? You're really pale."

Eddie keeps his grip on Buck, lowering him to the ground. Buck sits heavily, putting his head between his knees in the hopes of helping the dizzy spell to pass.

"Talk to me, Buck," Eddie says, and Buck opens his eyes to see Eddie crouched in front of him, staring at him worriedly. "What's goin' on?"

Buck swallows thickly, and it takes more effort than it should. "I'm not exactly sure," he says, voice shaky. "I just don't feel good."

"Don't feel good how?" Eddie presses, pushing up the sleeve of Buck's turnout coat to press two fingers to the inside of Buck's wrist. "Anything hurt?"

"No, the headache's gone," Buck says. "I'm kinda...dizzy. Nauseated. 'n my chest is kind of tight. I thought maybe there was something weird in the smoke but everyone else seems fine...What?"

Eddie's brow is furrowed and he's chewing on the inside of one cheek.

"Your heart is racing," he says, sounding almost distracted. He looks over his shoulder. "I'm just gonna...Hey, Hen? Chim? Can one of you come over here?"

"Everything okay?" Chimney says, jogging over from where he and Hen had been checking over the homeowner. Bobby is right behind him.

"I was going to ask the same question," Bobby says.

Buck wants to insist that he's okay, but the tight feeling in his chest is getting worse.

"He's tachy," Eddie says. "Said he's dizzy and nauseous, and he's short of breath."

Chimney kneels next to Eddie in front of Buck, setting his bag on the ground next to him. "Okay, Buckaroo, I'm gonna need to take your blood pressure. Can you get that coat off for me?"

It takes Eddie and Bobby both helping him for Buck to get out of his turnout coat. Buck would be mortified if he weren't feeling so awful. There's an ominous darkness starting to creep in on the edges of his vision, and the noise around him is growing muffled. The only clear sound is the quiet wheezing of his own breathing as he struggles to pull air into his lungs.

"Whoa. Cap, his BP is really low," Chim says, his voice sounding far away. Buck barely hears him over his own growing panic.

"I-" he gasps, eyes wide. He's not getting enough air. His mind flashes back to his date with Abby, what feels like a million years ago now. This is like that, but there's nothing stuck in his throat. Oh, god. "Can't – breathe--"

"Eddie, I need you to go in the rig and get the EpiPen," Chim says. "Hurry. Buck, this is looking a lot like an allergic reaction. We're gonna get some epinephrine into you to help open up those airways, okay? Buck?"

Buck's chest aches, his lungs desperate for oxygen, and he's so dizzy. His head feels heavy and he leans back, his head hitting the side of the rig with a soft thunk. He can't breathe, he can't breathe, he can't--

There's a sudden sharp pain on the outside of his thigh. And then, just like that, he can breathe again. He gasps, pulling in a long breath, and then another.

"That's it," Bobby says. He's crouched on one knee next to Buck, though Buck doesn't remember him getting there. "That's it, kid. Breathe."

"Don't...don't need to tell me twice," Buck says between breaths, and Bobby smiles. Eddie, standing behind him, chuckles. "I don't understand, though. I'm not allergic to anything."

"Have you ever taken naproxen before?" It's Chim that asks. There's a guilty look on his face.

"Uh..." Buck thinks about it for a second, hand rubbing absently across his chest. "I don't think I have, no. My heart is beating really fast."

"That's the adrenaline," says Eddie. "Totally normal."

Chim is on his feet now, an anguished look on his face as clasps his hands behind his head, elbows pushed toward his ears. "Oh my god, I almost killed you."

Buck turns to him with a frown. "What?"

"The Aleve I gave you before shift." Chim groans. "Oh, god, your sister is going to kill me."

"I'm fine," Buck says. He decides not to mention the fact that he's still a little freaked out and that he kind of feels like he's going to puke. Chimney feels bad enough already. "Really."

"We'll let a doctor decide that," Hen says. "Cap, he's gonna need to be checked out at the hospital."

"Guys, really," Buck says.

"She's right, kid," Bobby says, a soft fondness in his voice. "An EpiPen isn't a substitute for medical care. You know that."

Buck sighs. "Fine."

"I'll drive," Chimney says, already headed toward the ambulance. Buck watches him walk away, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

"He's gonna be weird about this for ages," he says. Hen reaches down to squeeze his shoulder.

"Just give him a little time. You scared him, that's all."

"You scared all of us," Bobby says.

"Not for the first time," Eddie adds.

Buck looks up at all of them with a sheepish smile. "And probably not for the last."

xxx

[lemotmo]

I'm sat regardless

Q. Any thoughts on what we might actually get on the Buddie front in the finale? There's too much coming out now and I'm too online.

A. I think we're getting something from Eddie's side in the finale. Which is needed and makes sense. A kiss was only ever going to be on the table if it was a life or death 'I'm so glad you're alive' pure relief kind of thing. Doesn't sound like it's going to be that extreme. Sounds like there will be peril but probably not the appearance of someone dying, which makes sense on the heels of the Bobby stuff. And both Oliver and Ryan have made a point of mentioning Eddie's sexuality. The show has to address that to some extent before Buddie can truly be an option, even if it's only addressed where Buck is concerned. The issue for lots of people though is they absolutely will refuse anything that isn't a kiss or mutual 'I love you' as proof of where things are going. And I'm not playing that game or giving space for that grievance to people anymore. All Oliver was basically saying was the scenes are not going to be good enough for some people, because he knows what some people's expectations are. The unavoidable truth is that because of this last minute Bobby nonsense the story lost a lot of momentum that they now have to reestablish. We have to have Eddie's answer re his sexuality or some kind of Buck moment for him. That is a must before things can go forward. And the truth is if we see Eddie turn down the Texas job and that captain says anything along the lines of you said there wasn't anything to leave for and the camera pans or Buck and Christopher THAT will be the confirmation. And it's an entirely personal problem for you (general, anon, not you specifically) if that's not good enough for you. That's absolutely how I took Oliver's quote. No kissing equals automatic disappear some. He had every right to say that the way he did because it's accurate.

Thank you Nonny!

Hmmm, I agree that ideally we will get to see something Eddie-related in this episode. But I wouldn't put it past this show either to have Buck finally realise that he does have feelings for Eddie.

They set the storyline up so nicely in 8x11 that I feel it needs to reach its natural conclusion. I really think we might get to see this.

But we'll see what happens when the finale airs. I'm not willing to take any bets on this. At this point? Anything can happen! 😂

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

I’ve never sent an ask to anyone before but I just had to say, I really love your stories!! Of course Butcher!Simon is an obvious fave but Baker!Johnny has a new special place in my heart 🖤 I hope you have a beautiful day/evening/night

Hi! It's really kind of you to tell me. Sending asks can take a lot of courage, thank you for doing it anyway. Especially for the first time!

I really love hearing from you guys and the fact that you took the time to press silly little buttons to let me know that you enjoy those stories makes me so incredibly happy.

Sadly I'm in the middle of my exams and you all will probably have to wait until after for a continuation of the stories.

I wish you a wonderful day/night/whatever time it is too. <3

[cedobols]

time for my weekly love letter to your inbox. your art just makes me so happy I cannot describe it well enough. I visit it whenever I am feeling a bit sad and instantly feel so much better ♥️ love u

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷love u 2

[rafesangelita]

♡ who needs a boyfriend when you have a best friend like rafe who lets you use him to get yourself off?

warnings: mentions of fwb, lots of dirty talk, light praise, unprotected sex, rafe being a giver before a receiver..

“are you asleep?” you whispered, snaking your hand over rafe’s shirtless form. trying to get any kind of sleep when you were next to him was deemed impossible, especially when he knew that you weren’t wearing anything underneath that pink nightdress of yours. “no, not really.” he hummed groggily, turning his body to face you. you two have had such a weird ‘best friends with benefits’ dynamic going on for so long now, there was nothing that fazed you two when it came to sleeping together in the same bed.. let alone being naked and in close proximity.

“what’s wrong?” he pulled you on top of him, your heat sitting right where you needed him the most. biting your lip, you waited for rafe to meet your gaze before it clicked for him. hiking up the sheer material of your nightdress, your best friend snaked a hand between your legs, a curse leaving his lips as he ran his fingers up and down your soaked folds. “oh, you just want your pretty hole filled, huh?” you nodded, taking him out of the confines of his underwear. “yes—” you whined, “can i please use your cock, ray?” rafe grabbed your chin, pulling you in for a kiss before doing away with your top.

“that’s what friends are for.” he whispered, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck as he slid into you. rafe took a handful of your ass, a pained mewl sounding from your mouth as he groped the flesh roughly. “get yourself off, ‘pretty, fuck yourself back to sleep.” he encouraged you, his breath tickling the side of your face as you moved on top of him. you could just cry, the mere girth of rafe’s cock stretching you open so deliciously. all he had to do was lay there and listen to your little whimpers and whines as you hiccuped your praises for him. “you f-fill me up so good!” you cried out, your nails digging into his skin.

“yeah?” he landed a harsh smack to the back of your thigh, eliciting a squeal from your lips, “is anyone else letting you use their cock like this?” you shook your head, leaving sloppy kisses along his jawline. “no, just you!” rafe knew that already, considering he had devoted most of his time to chasing off every guy who thought they could have a chance with you, he just loved hearing you confirm it for him. surprisingly enough, rafe didn’t care if you made him cum or not, he reached his climax just knowing that you counted on him to make you feel good.

“oh, fuck,” you took in a sharp breath, circling your hips so your clit met his pubic bone, “rafe!” with your ministrations faltering, you struggled to keep up with your movements, a frustrated cry echoing off the walls of his bedroom. resting his hands in the small of your back, rafe pinned you against his chest as you came undone around his cock, your tears of pure unadulterated pleasure running down his shoulder as you trembled with the force of your orgasm. rafe felt the tension in his stomach starting to coil tight as he was close to finishing himself, his jaw clenching as you shook in his arms.

thumbing away the stray tears that managed to stay on the surface of your skin, rafe brought you down from your high with a soft ‘shhhh..’ rasping through the small space. his hands cupped your face, both of you exchanging a look before you slid off of him with a hiss. fully expecting to just hold you close and call it a night, rafe looked down at you with confusion as you laid down on your tummy between his thighs. “w-what are you doing?” he asked, swallowing thickly once you batted your lashes up at him. “what kind of friend would i be without returning the favor?”

thank you nonnie for celebrating with me ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[thedollydiaries]

imagine like simon goes into some sort of surgery and has to be put under anesthesia, and when he gets out hes like still high asf on it 💀 and hes being a lil silly goose

okay this is such a cute idea omg, this is 100% based off that tiktok audio where it's like "my wife wouldn't like you touching me like that" "i AM your wife."

thank you so much for the request nonnie, a forehead kiss for you MWAH MWAH

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

wc: 563

warnings: none really, lots and lots of that good ol fluff, mentions of surgery, goofy simon, maybe a little ooc simon (he's high so it's fine)

a/n: i hope this is okay, i'm feeling a bit rusty with my writing but i've finally got back some motivation and energy to do so after the past two months of low energy and bad mental health. if you guys want to know a bit more about it and my mental health (i don't see why anyone would but lmao) let me know, i don't mind making a post about it if you guys want an explanation of some sort or whatever. anywho, sorry this is so short but i hope you still like it!! <3

a/n 2.0: i recently applied for a part time job at a bookstore so y'all pray for me that i get this job because i want it so bad. i am just gonna decide that i WILL get this job, because why wouldn't i?

simon had been out of surgery for just over an hour now, being a soldier you 'd think perhaps he was going under surgery for some kind of wound he had inflicted upon him on the battlefield but no, he was just getting his tonsils removed after a bad bout of tonsillitis ended up with him developing really bad tonsil stones.

so here you were, waiting by his bedside for him to wake up. the doctor and nurses reminded you just as he had gotten out that he may still be a little, well loopy, off of the meds depending on how quickly he woke up. you waited in a chair at his bedside, reading a book when you heard the blankets of the bed rustling just a little.

looking up from your book you see simon starting to wake up and you reach out to grasp his hand, only for him to rip it away from you when his eyes were fully opened.

"uh, si? you okay, hon?" you ask gently, maybe he just wasn't feeling too well after waking up, or perhaps he wasn't wanting physical touch, that happened quite often and you always respected that space he may want when he wanted it.

"don't call me that." simon said, voice hoarse and scratchy from the surgery, he sounded a little angry.

"what?" you questioned, this wasn't like simon, you couldn't understand why he wouldn't want you speaking like this to him.

"i'm taken."

"i know." you replied with a short laugh.

"you should be touching me like that then."

it hit you then, he was woozy from the meds and didn't recognize you. the realization made you laugh a little more. you decided to have a bit of fun with this high version of your boyfriend.

"sorry about that simon. wanna tell me about your partner?"

"oh, (name)? they're amazing, you know they're so pretty. and they're funny too. they always know how to make me feel better, i miss them." simon replies, ranting and raving on and on to you about his partner, about you.

"you love them a lot, don't you?" you ask him with a smile, it felt so nice to hear all these lovely things about yourself, your boyfriend clearly unfiltered by the effects of the anesthesia he was under.

sure he definitely said sweet things to your face, but something about hearing it when he was basically high as shit made your heart pound a little more.

"i love them with my whole heart." simon replies, a goofy little smile on his face.

you can't help but reach out to gently caress his face at those words, body filling up with some much adoration for the soldier in front of you.

"hey! what did i say about touching me. i have a partner!" simon scolds, trying to dodge your touch.

"simon, love... i am your partner. it's me, (name)." you reply with a laugh.

simon takes a good long look at you when you tell him this, he stares at you, looks you up and down before letting out a soft and quiet "oh."

you begin to hear the beeping of his heart rate monitor speed up, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he stares up at you.

you couldn't help but laugh a little more at this. what a sweet idiot. your sweet idiot.

[dior-luxury]

hiiiii hope you're having a good day! Can I request Idia, Azul, Ruggie, Jamil, Lilia, Ace + anyone else you like with a reader who has a crush on them but is utterly convinced there's no way he likes them back? Just "he's so cute and I love him but he's way out of my league, oh well back to daydreaming" Thank youuuu ~ 👾 nonnie

You Being Convinced They Don't Like You Back

( ✧ ) ────── pre-boyfriend stories . fluff - gn!reader .

- [𝐜𝐡.] ace . ruggie . azul . jamil . idia . lilia

- [𝐩:𝐬] Self-deprecating thoughts / Low self-esteem . Mutual pining . Angst with a happy ending . Romantic insecurity . Fluff

Note: I literally am in LOVE with this prompt hello 🥹 thank you so much for requesting 👾 nonnie! I hope my writing exceeds your expectations ( ´ ω ` ) .

Ace Trappola

The library was unusually quiet for a Thursday afternoon, the hum of distant conversation muffled by the towering shelves of books and the occasional creak of an old wooden chair. You sat in the farthest corner, your favorite spot, hunched over your notebook but not really writing. Not really thinking, either.

You were doodling again—him, of course. The slightly messy hair that was always a shade redder in the sunlight, the crooked smirk that came out right before he teased someone (or charmed them), and those stupid little hearts he sometimes made with his hands just to be annoying. Ace Trappola.

You sighed and dropped your pencil, watching it roll off the desk. “Ugh, why is he so cute,” you mumbled under your breath, face down in your arms.

It wasn’t like he knew you existed in any special way. Sure, you were classmates, sometimes group partners, sometimes sparring partners in flight class. He joked with you a lot, yeah. But he joked with everyone. He winked at everyone. He didn’t look at you the way you looked at him—soft, lingering, completely lovesick.

You were convinced Ace belonged in a whole different universe than you. He was bold, charming, magnetic. And you? You were… fine. Okay. Passable. Not his type, whatever that was. So you kept it inside. You giggled with your friends about how cute he looked in his uniform, you wrote little daydreams in your journal and then crossed them out, and you tried to survive the actual conversations with him without letting the pink in your cheeks get too noticeable.

What you didn’t know—what you couldn’t have known—was that Ace had been hovering outside the aisle for the past five minutes.

He’d come to return a book, seen you, and almost walked away. But your muttering had stopped him cold.

He leaned a little closer, his heartbeat just a bit too loud in his ears. Did you just call him cute? No way. You were probably talking about some manga character.

But then you sighed again and muttered, “He’d never like someone like me. Not when he’s... him.”

And something in Ace's chest twisted.

He stepped out casually, pretending like he hadn’t just eavesdropped on your heartbreak. “Yo,” he said, tossing the book on the return cart. “Didn’t know you talked to yourself. Should I be worried?”

You jolted upright, face turning crimson the moment you saw him. “A-Ace?!”

He leaned on the edge of your desk, eyes scanning your doodles. “Wow, that guy looks exactly like me,” he teased. “You got a little crush or something?”

You tried to cover the page, but it was too late. Panic surged in your chest, your throat tightening as every possible excuse dried up on your tongue.

Ace tilted his head, smirk fading just slightly into something softer. “Hey,” he said, quieter now. “Was that about me back there? What you said?”

You froze. Busted.

He laughed—gently, not the loud, showy kind. “You think I’m out of your league? That’s rich. You literally do everything better than me except math, and I still think about how you beat me in Spell Target last month.”

You blinked, stunned.

Ace grinned wider, leaning just a bit closer. “So... maybe I’ve got a little crush too. Don’t go writing me off like that next time, yeah?”

Ruggie Bucchi

It was late afternoon, and the Savannaclaw lounge was mostly empty—except for you, perched on the steps outside, and Ruggie, balancing a tray of snacks with a practiced hand. You’d offered to help, but he’d waved you off with a grin.

“Relax, I got this.”

You smiled politely, folding your arms tighter. Not that he’d notice the way your chest fluttered when he smiled like that. That sly, sleepy-eyed grin that made your stomach dip every time.

Ruggie was… everything you weren’t. Fast-talking, adaptable, clever, confident in a way you never could be. He made jokes even when Leona was glaring daggers. He knew how to turn scraps into something useful. And you? You were just you.

No way he’d be interested in someone who wasn’t cool, cunning, or at least a little dangerous. He needed someone who could keep up with his sharp tongue and trickster nature. Not someone like you who blushed too easily and got tongue-tied every time he looked your way.

You fiddled with a loose thread on your sleeve, sighing. “He’s way out of my league,” you whispered to no one.

Unbeknownst to you, Ruggie was returning from the lounge, just in time to hear that.

He paused in his step, the grin faltering as the words sank in.

Out of your league? Him?

He tilted his head, watching you. You looked… soft. Tired. Not just from today, but maybe from carrying that weight in your chest. The kind he knew too well. Ruggie bit the inside of his cheek and walked over quietly, plopping down beside you without a word.

You looked up, startled. “Oh! You’re back.”

“Yeah.” He offered you one of the sweet pastries he’d snagged from the kitchen. “You looked like you needed somethin’ sweet.”

You took it, hesitating. “Thanks…”

The silence lingered a moment too long. Then Ruggie said casually, “You know, I heard what you said.”

You froze.

Ruggie turned his head to look at you, his smile smaller now, more sincere. “You think I’m outta your league?” He snorted. “That’s a laugh. You’re the only one around here who’s nice to me without expecting somethin’ in return.”

You stared, lips parting, but no words came out.

“I notice things, y’know,” he continued, voice lower now. “How you bring extra snacks just in case someone forgets lunch. How you patch people up after training. How you always wave to Grim like he’s the main character or somethin’.”

You smiled weakly. “He thinks he is.”

Ruggie chuckled. “You’ve got no idea how easy it is to like you, do ya?”

The air went still.

He leaned a bit closer, a mischievous spark lighting back up in his eyes. “So, what d’you say we make this official? You stop pretendin’ I don’t like you, and I stop stealin’ snacks to get your attention. Deal?”

You couldn’t speak. You just nodded—furiously.

And Ruggie, with a smug little grin, nudged your shoulder and whispered, “Knew you liked me, too.”

Azul Ashengrotto

The lounge was closed for the night, lights dimmed, the usual chatter of customers replaced by the quiet shuffle of papers and the gentle clink of glass as Azul organized the bar. You sat alone at one of the side tables—he’d offered to let you hang out while he finished work, a kind gesture wrapped in professionalism. You didn’t question it. You were just happy to be near him.

Azul was perfect. Not in an untouchable way, but in the dangerously magnetic way. His intelligence, his poise, the calculating way his eyes always seemed to know more than he let on. He could make a deal with a king and still get the better end of it. He ran a whole business while juggling classes and contracts and never once looked like he was struggling.

Meanwhile, you were just… you. No cunning. No genius intellect. Just someone who barely passed alchemy and still got nervous speaking in front of people. Azul was miles above your league.

So, you admired him from afar. You listened carefully when he spoke in class, hung onto his every word when he got passionate about potion theory, and then pretended not to ache when he’d smile politely and move on without knowing how he affected you.

Tonight was no different.

You watched him from behind your drink, your heart fluttering as he adjusted his glasses, sleeves rolled to his elbows. You sighed under your breath, “He’s so beautiful. And way out of my league. Oh well. Back to daydreaming…”

Azul looked up.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but his mer ears were… sensitive. The words hit him harder than expected. You thought he was out of your league?

He swallowed hard, turning away quickly to hide the sudden redness in his cheeks. Was that a joke? Were you playing him? No, no—your voice had been too soft. Too sad.

He closed the ledger and made his way over to your table, rehearsing something casual to say. But he couldn’t do it. The usual charm slipped. He sat down across from you instead, unusually quiet.

“Everything alright?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said too quickly. Then, after a breath: “I overheard something just now.”

Your heart dropped.

“I didn’t mean to. But you said…” He paused, searching your face for any trace of irony. “You think I’m out of your league?”

You froze. Busted again. Why did the universe keep doing this to you?

Azul looked… uncertain. Vulnerable. His fingers tapped the edge of the table in a rare moment of nervous fidgeting. “You have no idea how intimidating you are to me.”

You blinked. “Me?!”

“Yes. You’re so—genuine. You smile without scheming. You care without a contract. That’s not something I’m used to.” His voice dropped, soft and serious. “And I’ve liked you for a while. But I didn’t think someone as… sincere as you could ever return that kind of feeling.”

Your chest clenched. “Azul, I… I do. I have. For a long time.”

He gave a breathless little laugh. “Then perhaps… a real date? No contracts, no business. Just us?”

You nodded, overwhelmed but glowing. And for once, Azul Ashengrotto looked flustered. Adorably so.

Jamil Viper

The sun was setting over Scarabia, painting the desert sky in shades of gold and crimson. You sat at the balcony edge of the dorm’s main building, legs dangling, fingers absentmindedly picking at your sleeve as you watched the horizon burn.

Jamil was training below—moving with that smooth, graceful precision of someone who knew exactly what he was doing and exactly how much attention he was getting. But Jamil never asked for attention. He earned it quietly, consistently, and refused to let it change him.

You had it bad. So bad it was kind of pathetic.

He was calm, composed, mysterious in the way that made your heart race just a little. But also kind, thoughtful, and far too selfless for someone with his level of talent. You loved the way he took care of others, even when they didn’t realize he was doing it. You loved the way his eyes lit up when no one was watching and he actually let himself enjoy something.

And of course, you’d convinced yourself he’d never return the feeling.

You were ordinary. Not someone with elegance carved into every step. Not someone with a voice that could silence a room. You were nice, and dependable, but not the kind of person who got someone like Jamil Viper.

You sighed and murmured to yourself, “He’s so cool and so out of my league… but I love him anyway. Guess I’ll just keep dreaming.”

Unfortunately, your voice carried.

Jamil paused mid-step, hearing your words. The rhythm of his movements faltered for just a second. He glanced up, spotted you on the balcony, and blinked.

Your eyes met. Panic.

He jogged up the steps—not fast, but direct. Intentional.

You stood, heart racing. “J-Jamil, I didn’t know you—”

“I heard you,” he said, his voice even, but there was a flicker of emotion in his eyes you hadn’t seen before. “What you said.”

You turned crimson. “That was—I didn’t mean—well, I did, but not for you to—”

He held up a hand gently. “Can I be honest with you?”

You nodded, too stunned to speak.

“I’ve spent a long time trying not to like anyone,” he said slowly. “Because it’s easier. Because I don’t get to have things I want. People expect me to stay in the background, to be useful—not to be seen.”

Your breath hitched.

“But then you came along. You’re kind. You notice things most people overlook. You see me.” He looked away for a second, a rare flicker of vulnerability. “And I didn’t think I was allowed to want someone like you.”

You were stunned. “Jamil… I see you because I care. I’ve always cared.”

He looked at you again, softer now. “Then maybe we’ve both been idiots.”

You laughed shakily. “Definitely.”

Jamil stepped closer, a real smile pulling at his lips. “Then let’s stop pretending. I like you. And I’m not letting you drift away into daydreams anymore.”

Your heart soared. Maybe… just maybe… you were enough for him all along.

Idia Shroud

The glow of the computer screen lit your face as you sat cross-legged on the floor of Ignihyde's rec room—aka Idia's fortress. You’d been invited to a co-op gaming session, not unusual since you’d proven yourself in battle simulators, strategy MMOs, and the occasional horror VR run.

But what was unusual… was that Idia had invited you.

You kept telling yourself it wasn’t a big deal. He was probably just being friendly. Maybe he appreciated that you didn’t make fun of his Otaku shrine or that time he totally short-circuited a project trying to install AI voice lines of a waifu into Ortho.

Still, every time he laughed softly at one of your dumb jokes, or his fingers brushed yours when you handed him a controller—you felt that dizzy, heart-thumping feeling in your chest. And you reminded yourself, for the millionth time:

“He’s brilliant. Cool in a mysterious, tech-wizard way. That anime hair glows. He’s basically a boss-level character. And me? I’m just a side quest.”

So you kept your feelings locked behind your own firewall and resigned yourself to the background.

Tonight was no different. After you won a particularly chaotic match, Idia leaned back in his chair, hoodie half-draped over his head, giving you one of those rare, sheepish smiles. “Y-you’re really good at this… I mean, I knew you were decent, but like… whoa. T-totally NPC-crushing it.”

You smiled, heart fluttering. “Guess I just like playing with you…”

He froze. Not visibly, not obviously—but if you’d been watching closely (and you always were), you’d notice the way his avatar just… idled.

You were about to awkwardly fill the silence when you heard it—his voice, quiet, uncertain. “You know, I always thought you were… like… out of my league.”

Your brain lagged.

“Wait—what?”

Idia pulled the hood further over his head, hair flickering in shades of anxious pink. “I mean, you’re normal. Like, good at talking to people, and helping Ortho with projects, and you actually listen when I go off on anime world-building lore instead of hitting skip like everyone else.”

Your jaw dropped a little. “But I thought I was just the sidekick here! I mean—you’re… you. I figured there was no way someone like you could like someone like me.”

He glanced up, eyes wide and glowing faintly. “No. You’re not ‘someone like’ anything. You’re just… you. And you’re kind of my favorite player two.”

Silence stretched.

And then he blurted, fast and fumbling, “So—uh, do you wanna maybe do a… real date co-op thing? Like a—non-digital questline?”

You beamed. “I’d love to.”

And somewhere in the corner, Ortho’s little scanner lit up green. “Successful confession: confirmed.”

Lilia Vanrouge

The Diasomnia garden was especially quiet in the evening, the moonlight bathing the stone paths in silver as soft wind rustled the leaves. You often came here after a long day—it was peaceful, and you could just… think.

And of course, he was often there.

Lilia.

Sometimes humming an old lullaby. Sometimes practicing aerial flips. Sometimes just tending to the strange, glowing plants with that serene little smile. He was enigmatic, ageless, playful in a way that made your heart ache. He flirted with everyone, joked like he’d seen centuries of stories unfold—and maybe he had.

You were utterly, hopelessly, in love with him.

But you’d buried it. Because how could someone like Lilia Vanrouge—mysterious, powerful, ancient, and radiant—ever love someone like you?

“He’s basically immortal. I’m mortal, awkward, and sometimes trip over nothing. He’s been alive since kingdoms rose and fell. I’m just trying to pass my midterms without dying of stress. He probably sees me like a cute stray cat or something.”

So instead of confessing, you smiled, nodded when he teased you, and let the daydreams pile up where he couldn’t see.

Tonight, you didn’t notice him approach until he sat beside you, quiet and uncharacteristically gentle.

“Lost in thought, little one?”

You startled slightly, then laughed. “Yeah. Just… life stuff.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, gaze flicking over your face like he was reading something written across your skin. “You've been sighing a lot lately.”

You tried to deflect. “Guess I’ve just been thinking about someone.”

His eyes twinkled. “Ah… a crush, perhaps?”

You flushed. “Maybe.”

Lilia tilted his head, fangs barely visible behind his grin. “And what is this mysterious someone like?”

You bit your lip. “He’s… incredible. Playful but wise. Mysterious. Totally out of my league.”

That grin faded—just slightly. “Out of your league?”

You nodded, sighing. “Yeah. He’s someone who probably sees a million people every day and never notices someone like me. Which is fine. I’m just… daydreaming. That’s all.”

Lilia was silent for a beat. And then he did something you hadn’t expected.

He took your hand.

“You know,” he said quietly, “for someone who’s lived as long as I have… very few people surprise me anymore. But you? You always do. With your honesty, your kindness… and the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

You froze.

“I do notice,” he added, voice lowering, soft as dusk. “And I would be a fool not to return the favor.”

You stared, eyes wide. “Wait… you—?”

“Yes.” He smiled, a touch bittersweet. “And I’ve been waiting for the right time to say it. But it seems we’ve both been sitting in our little corners of longing, haven’t we?”

You nodded, heart hammering.

He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a featherlight kiss to your knuckles. “Well then… perhaps it’s time we step out of the daydream.”

[sweetfcwn]

george who literally worships his gf both physically and emotionally, hes such a lover i know it

like you’re art - george clarke.

this is might be my favourite thing i've written. thank you so much for the request nonnie, you're so right. i hope you enjoy <33

george never looks at you like you’re just a person.

he looks at you like you’re art in a gallery. something to be studied, treasured, devoured with his eyes. every beauty mark. every stretch mark. every soft little breath you take when you’re half-asleep in the morning. he notices all of it. and he loves all of it.

he doesn’t even hide it anymore.

you’ll catch him staring at you from across the room, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, like you’ve just done something incredible—when really, all you’ve done is exist.

"what?" you ask once, cheeks warm under his gaze.

"nothing," he says softly, shaking his head. "you're just… you're the most beautiful person i've ever seen."

he says it like it's fact. like it’s gravity.

and it's always like that. he touches you like you’re something delicate and precious, like the act of being near you is enough to bring him peace.

you’re lying in bed on a slow sunday morning, tangled in sheets and sunlight, and george is on his side, elbow propped up, watching you.

you’re not even fully awake. you stretch a little, blinking sleepily at the soft golden light pouring through the window, and you catch him smiling.

“you’re staring.”

“obviously,” he murmurs, fingers brushing your cheek. “you look like a painting.”

you groan, rolling onto your stomach. “you’re so dramatic.”

but you don’t really mind.

his hand trails lazily down your spine. “it’s not dramatic if it’s true.”

he’s always like this—touching you like you’re sacred, like every inch of your skin was carved by someone holy. even when it’s innocent. especially then. he kisses your knees. your knuckles. the dip of your collarbone. like he needs you to know how much he loves every part of you.

he's gentle with your heart, too.

the kind of boyfriend who remembers the things you said in passing and brings them up months later like they mattered (because to him, they do). the kind of boyfriend who lets you ramble about things you love and listens like it’s the most interesting story in the world.

“you always get this little smile when you talk about stuff you care about,” he tells you once, curled up beside you on the sofa, chin resting on your shoulder. “it’s my favourite thing.”

you glance over at him, suddenly shy. “you notice everything.”

he shrugs. “i want to notice everything.”

you don’t know what to say to that. so you kiss him instead.

and he loves hyping you up.

even when you feel like a mess—hair unbrushed, hoodie too big, sleep still in your eyes—he’ll say something like, “jesus christ, how are you even real?” and mean it.

he hypes you up when you try something new. when you talk about your work. when you pick an outfit. when you send him a selfie, even one you’re unsure about.

“fit of the year,” he’ll text back. “model behaviour.”

or sometimes just: “mine.”

you’ll never admit how much it means to you. how much it helps to be loved so loudly, so thoroughly, so unconditionally.

but he knows. of course he knows.

he has this way of holding your face when he kisses you—hands cradling your jaw, thumbs brushing your cheeks, like he’s memorizing the shape of you.

he doesn’t rush it, either. not ever.

he kisses you like it’s a language. like it’s the only way he knows how to say what he’s feeling. like if he could kiss you forever, he’d still never get tired of it.

one night, after a quiet dinner and a walk home under the streetlights, you’re both in your room, half-tangled on the bed. george is looking at you like you hung the moon.

you laugh softly. “why are you looking at me like that?”

he shrugs, eyes still on yours. “because i’m in love with you.”

your breath catches.

you’ve said it before. a few times. but never like this. never when it feels so heavy and light at the same time. never when it feels like he’s baring his soul.

“say it again,” you whisper.

“i’m in love with you,” he says, slower this time. deliberate. “so much it makes my chest hurt.”

you reach for him, pulling him down into a kiss that’s all teeth and aching softness. his hands slide up your sides, gentle and reverent, like he’s afraid he’ll break you if he moves too fast.

“you don’t have to be so careful,” you murmur against his mouth.

he pulls back just enough to look at you. “i want to be careful. you’re everything.”

and then his hands are everywhere—your jaw, your neck, your waist, your hips. his touch is warm, grounding, full of worship.

he doesn’t just want to be with you. he wants to cherish you.

and you let him.

you let him because with george, it doesn’t feel performative. it doesn’t feel like he’s trying to prove something.

it just feels real.

after, you’re curled into his chest, fingers trailing lazy circles on his bare skin, and he’s still looking at you with that same awestruck expression.

“you okay?” you whisper.

he nods, brushing your hair back. “just thinking about how lucky i am.”

you snort. “you always say that.”

“because it’s always true.”

you go quiet, heart soft and heavy.

he shifts so he can kiss your forehead. then your cheek. then your lips.

“you’re everything i’ve ever wanted,” he says quietly. “you know that, right?”

you nod. “you’re everything to me, too.”

george smiles like he’s never been happier in his life.

-

you learn, over time, that this is who he is.

he’s the kind of man who will carry your bag when you’re tired, rub your back when you’re anxious, bring you flowers because “they reminded me of you.”

he compliments you when you least expect it—when you're brushing your teeth, when you're putting on socks, when you're ranting about a tv show.

he always reaches for your hand. always pulls you in closer. always kisses the top of your head, like it’s instinct.

he doesn’t wait for special moments to love you. he turns every moment into one.

sometimes, in quiet moments, he’ll whisper things when you’re not quite awake.

“you’re my favourite person.”

“i don’t know what i did to deserve you.”

“i’ll love you forever.”

you never know if he thinks you can hear him. you don’t think he cares. he says it because it’s true, not because he wants something back.

and every time you do hear it, it makes you love him more.

george doesn’t love halfway. he never has.

he loves in full. in color. in warmth and worship and touch. in the way he holds you like you’re the best thing that ever happened to him.

and the most incredible part?

you believe him.

because when george loves you, it doesn’t feel like a spotlight.

it feels like home.

taglist: @phantomveb @just-yazz @wherethezoes-at @tomhollandismyhusband1996 @cheekytv @clarkeysbedchem @artvscvntymullet

[bunnigumi]

can you do drabbles of best friend (fwb) gumi (*´-`) (i love ur work and aesthetic btw (´ｰ｀) )

cw. megumi x reader , friends with benefits , first time , possessiveness

an. i think i got carried away... i sooooo love this trope hehe. and thank you, nonnie! ^w^ (not carefully proofread)

Hey, 'Gumi, remember how I said you owe me one?

Fwb!Megumi isn't startled when you casually ask him if he can take your virginity.

Honestly, you were partially joking, but when he agrees with that static expression like you didn't just ask your best friend to be your first time, you're taken by surprise. You really didn't think he'd entertain your idea. Anticipating a huff, him brushing it off as a joke

You were expecting a more touch-and-go experience: He fucks you, you can claim you're no longer a virgin, and that's that. But he really takes the time to get you all worked up and desperate, telling you that your first should be your most memorable. It's just the rules.

And it was supposed to be a one time thing, you swear! But after that, nothing could get you off as good as he did.

Fwb!Megumi can't help the teasing smile on his expression when you tell him that you want to have sex again, Didn't realize we were friends with benefits now.

You can't even begin to explain how degrading it feels to go back on your own word, but you've been so pent up and had no one other than him to help... He seriously ruinied your ability to orgasm.

He teaches you the reins the second time around. How to touch him, The tip is the most sensitive. And tighten your grip, it's better. How to ride him, Fuck... yeah, that's it, letting go of your waist he leans back into the pillows, keep moving your hips like that.

It's way better than highschool sex-ed, that's for sure.

Fwb!Megumi is weirdly intimate—not that it's a bad thing. He's always had a romantic streak, even if he denies the fact.

It's in how he kisses you, not with hunger or pure lust. In the way he holds your hands and leaves marks on your neck that are hard to hide. Even if you whine about it, he'll still do it.

He has your other friends wondering who'd be giving them to you since you weren't in a relationship with anyone.

When you need a little cheering up, Fwb!Megumi starts offering a little more than just emotional support.

You're on your elbows and knees, back arched, face buried into his pillow. Avoiding his face so that he wouldn't have to see the makeup running down your own. Even though hes seen you in way worse states, somehow it's more embarrassing when he's inside you.

Your date had stood you up. Megumi knew how excited you were for it. Barging into his place, carrying tons of outfits in your arms. Showing them off. Asking him for his input, what you should wear. Which dress flaunts your body off best.

He told you that you'd look great in anything, but you urged that you should look perfect, and as your best friend, it's his obligation.

Fwb!Megumi likes to be a bit rough with you when you're sad like this. Feel-better-sex, as he jokes.

Tight enough with his grab on your hips to leave bruises, He finds that you forget about the pain better when you have a greater sensation to focus on. Dopamine's your favorite drug.

And he wont admit this either, but he's real possessive over you. As your best friend, he knows that you deserve more than the world.

Frankly, he likes the idea of keeping you all to himself; its practically why he agreed to your request in the first place.

He won't make you flip over so he can see your face while he fucks you missionary, but he really wants to see the pleasure wash over your face. To see how he can only make you feel good like this.

Pounding you from the back so hard that you forget the name of the douche who stood you up is good on it's own. Theres enough proof of his worth to you in how your cries are that of satisfaction, and not the kind caused by stupid boys who don't deserve to even look at you.

No one else should get to experience how your cunt tightens around him as your about to cum. Hear the way you moan out him name wantonly. See how you push back onto him when he tries to pull out, insisting that he stay inside you for just a little longer.

There's one more thing Fwb!Megumi won't tell you either; he really, really loves this arrangement.

[txrully]

Hi Hi !!! I really love your fics

Can I request a gn reader who loves to manhandle the BL boys (Kinda like aggressive affection).

Thank you, and have a good day :D

CANT ESCAPE MY AFFECTION!

·˚ ༘ ꒱ summary bluelock boys with an s/o who loves aggressive affection

·˚ ༘ ꒱ characters isagi yoichi , bachira meguru , itoshi rin , nagi seishiro , mikage reo , chigiri hyoma , hiori yo , shidou ryusei , itoshi sae , michael kaiser , alexis ness

·˚ ༘ ꒱ warning lowercase intended , gn reader

·˚ ༘ ꒱ a/n idk how - but im pretty sure this flopped :sob: so sorry nonnie :( <3

·˚ ༘ ꒱ isagi yoichi

isagi is kind of taken aback at first, because he’s more used to subtle affection (kinda), but when you pull him into a bear hug and start giving him smothering kisses, he’s so down.

he’s always flustered, trying to return the affection but not quite knowing how to keep up with your energy. when you go in for a kiss, he literally freezes, and you have to drag him in.

"yoichi, c'mere, i don't bite! >:/ "

"w-wait, can’t you, uh, just take it slow- 🥲"

"nope, i'm coming for you whether you like it or not!"

"i... okay? 😅"

·˚ ༘ ꒱ bachira meguru

bachira lives for it. he’s all about that playful, chaotic love. he’ll give you the most dramatic responses and egg you on.

if you get overly affectionate, he’ll tease you by trying to run away and play “catch me if you can,” but then he’ll let you tackle him because he loves the aggressive attention. it’s like his personal sport.

"bachira, i'm not letting you go today!"

"haha, i can totally outrun you! try me!"

"watch me catch you!"

"ah, you did it! but only because i let you."

"you're so annoying, i’m kissing you anyway."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ itoshi rin

to put it simply... rin’s not used to this level of affection ( at all ), but once he realizes you’re serious about it, he melts 🫠. he’ll let you drag him into all the kisses, but he might act like he’s annoyed at first.

he’ll do that thing where he crosses his arms and smirks while you’re all over him, but secretly, he’s a little soft on the inside. once you start kissing his neck or leaning on him aggressively, he’s completely done for.

"ew, stop that."

"i’m literally hugging you wdym. D:"

"do it again."

"i- fine by me."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ nagi seishiro

nagi is lwk confused at first ( :x face and all ), but when you pounce on him and wrap your arms around his neck, he just goes with the flow. he’s so relaxed and chill about the whole thing, and honestly? he really likes being adored.

he might just let you do all the aggressive cuddling, because it’s easier than fighting you. if you push for more, he’ll pretend to be a little annoyed, but in reality, he’s soaking up every moment.

"sei, you’re stuck with me today, deal with it."

"can i, like, not deal with it?"

"nope, too bad."

"…fine. i’ll just enjoy the cuddles."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ mikage reo

reo is the most dramatic when it comes to aggressive affection, but he’s secretly obsessed with it. if you hug him from behind and cover his face in kisses, he’s all “oh no, how will i survive?” but he loves it.

he might complain, but he’s always the first to pull you closer and make sure you’re comfortable. even if he’s acting all sophisticated, he’s a softie for your wild love.

"reo, i’m not done yet!"

"oh nooo, i’m going to be suffocated by love!"

"you’re so dramatic."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ chigiri hyoma

chigiri is a bit flustered at first because he’s not sure how to handle all your aggressive affection, but he’ll warm up to it. he loves being loved—he just needs a moment to process.

if you’re all over him, he’ll take it in stride. he’ll laugh it off and act cool, but you can totally tell he’s enjoying it. maybe he gets a little shy when you shower him with kisses, but he definitely melts into your arms when you do.

"chigiri, you’re not getting away today!"

"what do you mean? i’m always getting away!"

"not today, my love."

"you’re a menace." ( lovingly )

·˚ ༘ ꒱ hiori yo

hiori is soft about it. like- he doesn’t even try to escape. you could probably lift him off the ground with a hug, and he’d just be like “okay, this is happening.”

he loves the attention, and he’s so gentle back, giving you the same level of affection in return. he might blush a bit, but he’s more than happy to let you shower him with attention.

"yo, hiori, you're stuck with me."

"uh-huh, i’m fine with that."

"you’re so cute when you get all shy."

"you’re the cute one here."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ shidou ryusei

shidou absolutely thrives in this environment. he loves being manhandled, basically. if you aggressively kiss his neck or give him a bear hug, he’s probably gonna pretend to act like he’s annoyed, but secretly? he’s loving it.

he might challenge you, though. like, “you think you can take me on?” but deep down, he’s ready to be held, kissed, and adored however you want.

"i’m gonna keep kissing you until you can’t breathe."

"oh? bring it on, i’ll kiss you back harder."

"you’re such a brat."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ itoshi sae

sae acts as cool as ever, but when you pull him into a tight hug and kiss him aggressively, he’s completely unbothered. he won’t show it, but you can tell he really likes it.

he might keep his face neutral, but his hands are definitely moving to pull you in closer, and he’ll even wrap his arm around you to make sure you stay put. he won’t say it, but he’s so happy to be adored by you.

"you’re clingy today .. more than usual."

"you bet i am. deal with it."

"oh well."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ michael kaiser

kaiser is such a dramatic baby. he acts like he’s too important for aggressive affection, but the second you throw yourself at him, he’s all “yes, this is exactly what i wanted.”

he makes a big show of rolling his eyes, but you know he’s loving every second of it. he even tries to one-up you sometimes, like, “you think you’re the only one who can be aggressive with love?” and then he’ll pin you down in return.

"i’m gonna smother you with kisses, just you wait."

"pfft, i dare you."

"watch me."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ alexis ness

ness might seem shy about your affection at first, but he’s totally into it. he doesn’t push you away, but he might give you the sweetest smile when you throw yourself at him.

he’ll pull you in and let you cuddle him as much as you want, and when you kiss him all over his face, he’ll blush like crazy but still hold you tight.

"ness, stop looking so cute while i’m trying to kiss you."

"i can’t help it… :') "

"you’re gonna be the death of me."

© txrully

do not copy/translate/repost/plagiarize my works in any way.

ⁱᵈᵏ ʷʰʸʸʸʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱ ʰᵃᵗᵉ ᵗʰⁱˢ ˢᵐ 🫠

[grudgecollector]

hii queen! i saw that your requests are open, could you write something with daryl and a reader in the earlier seasons who are dating in secret? (they dont want no one to know because daryl is new to relationships and i believe he would be more reserved a little in the beggining), however the group ended up noticing how soft he is to her and how he always keep an eye on her😩 and also i just wanted to say that i read some of yours writtings and they are amazing💕💕

Gimme Shelter | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Tags: Swearing, twd typical violence, kind of slow burn, fluff, lightish angst, half proof-read

Words: 4.4k

A/N: Fank you so much nonny 💖😭 I've been really enjoying writing for Daryl, he was one of my biggest obsessions as a teenager, and that obsession will continue to prevail.

And this is such a cute request, I love secret relationship tropes so much. I decided to do Prison era!Daryl if that's okay, I assume you probably meant for like season 1 or 2, but I felt like it would be cute in the prison.

I know that a slow burn wasn't requested BUT the thoughts just kept coming the more I wrote. Also sorry this took so long to post.

Growing up people would always say you will find the one when you least expect it. Whether it’s in a grocery store, at the park, in a museum. That one person you’re bound to spend the rest of your life with will be there. As if they were waiting for you, and you for them. It was a fairytale dream, one that you lost faith in long ago. 

There were moments you had thought that maybe you finally found that person. Until disappointment would strike time and time again. Your experience with relationships had been less than ideal, never lasting longer than a year. Cheaters, liars, and worst of all abusers. Those types of men had always been the most drawn to you. Making you feel as if you were cursed somehow, unlucky. 

After a while and a slew of pity attempts, you gave up on dating for your own benefit. Deciding it would be best to focus more on yourself. Not allowing yourself to succumb to the societal pressure of getting married by twenty and popping kids out by twenty one. 

That was the dream of a delusional small town teenager, too young to think for themselves let alone plan a future family, and that had been your dream once upon a time. Maybe you read too many stories about young girls finding their prince charming and living happily ever after.

You started to value your alone time. Enjoying the feeling of not having to walk on eggshells in order to keep the other party happy. Things were smooth sailing for about two years. You changed your life around, got a new job, a new car, and a new apartment all within a few months. 

A newfound happiness was settling inside of you, you were beginning to find yourself again. You became more confident in who you were as a person, allowing yourself to actually live your life instead of just simply being alive. 

But life had a twisted sense of humor. 

Things started with frantic breaking news segments on the news. Reporters talking about the horrifying developments coming out of France. In the beginning you had hoped that things wouldn’t escalate past that, hoped that this would be an isolated incident. But things just got worse the more you watched. An unknown virus wreaking havoc across the entirety of Europe, spreading like wildfire across each country. 

After the first case of the virus was reported in Ohio, you started to worry. Things were getting too close for your liking, and with the details they were releasing it wasn’t going to get any better. With each new segment that aired your mother would call, urgently telling you to come back to live with them until this sickness blows over. You knew that it would be your best bet. 

Once the local grocery stores started getting raided, you found yourself being thankful that your family was full of survivalist nuts. Growing up hearing them praise people like Jim Baker, and other televangelist hackjobs like him that weaponized fear mongering for profit. 

Your parents home was stocked full of all the essentials thanks to your aunt Jess. First aid kits, canned food, water to last just a little over a month. It was everything you needed and more. 

“Y’always gotta be prepared, honey.” Your wine-drunk aunt had told you after a week, the both of you lounging on the sofa as you watched the news. “You don’t know how long this crap’s gonna last.” 

It all went by so quickly. The news stations eventually stopped airing not long after the first report hit Georgia, they were urging everyone to evacuate to Atlanta, leaving the streets a mess of honking and dead-stop traffic right outside of your parent’s home. 

And for a short while you had settled into this false hope that you were safe there with them. 

That was until you came back from a short trip to a ransacked Dollar General just down the street. 

The house was oddly quiet when you walked inside. The TV was muted on a flickering static screen, your dad’s recliner was empty, a blanket on the floor. The backdoor that led to the porch was ajar, the sun shining through the crack onto the wood flooring. You remembered that feeling in your stomach as you walked closer, fingers slowly curling around the doorknob. 

When you walked outside it felt as if a bucket of ice water was dumped over your head. The horrifying sight of your mother’s body being gutted by your own father and uncle, fresh blood dripped down the side of the RV next to your aunt’s already mangled corpse. Your hands were trembling fiercely, a nauseating coppery smell filling your nose. 

All you could remember was running. Packing whatever you could get your hands on before taking your mother’s minivan.  

Not long after the death of your family, you were taken in by a small group of five. They were unstable, barely hanging on by a thread, with almost nightly arguments tilting them further over the edge. 

It made things harder for you. The tension starting to make you too nervous to sleep without a knife tucked securely under your pillow. 

The self appointed leader demanded too much, wanting more than half of the rations to himself. He was a cruel hearted individual, mind diluted by the atrocities you were all forced to witness. A dangerous man who was quick tempered, and ruthless to anything or anybody you came across. 

After a month of running with them you made a mistake. You hid a portion of your findings from him. Food that he would have taken the majority of. But you were starving, at the point of hardly caring about your survival if it meant you could eat just a little bit more.

Other members had found out though, outing you quickly. As a punishment he tied you up, stole everything from you. Photo albums, your weapons, your food, bandages, it didn’t matter what it was. After beating you he left you in the supply closet of a convenient store you were temporarily camping out in. 

Part of you half expected them to come back, but you knew better than to think positively now, that could get you killed nowadays. 

The minutes blended into hours into what felt like days. The zip ties around your wrists and ankles dug harshly into your skin, biting into the raw bleeding flesh as you struggled to free yourself. Eventually it got to the point where you started slipping in and out of consciousness, your body exhausted and dehydrated. You were sure you would die there. 

But, much to your surprise, your luck hadn’t run dry just yet. 

In your haze you could hear the sound of once shuffling corpses hit against the door with a heavy thud. Hushed voices barely graced your ears through the door, two men talking to each other. 

Your voice was hoarse as you pathetically attempted to call out. Your throat was dry from the lack of water, forcing your words to come out as a croaking squeak.  

The door had been opened cautiously, the beam of a flashlight assaulting your eyes. You attempted to focus on the man crouching down above you, his blurred features obscured by the baseball hat he wore. 

“Rick!” The man called over his shoulder, another figure coming into view. He was wearing what seemed to be a police officer’s uniform. Whether it was stolen or actually his, you didn’t care, you just wanted out of this damn closet. 

Both men were quick to cut your binds and hauled you to your feet. The quick motion was all it took for you to finally pass out. A thick blanket of exhaustion pressed into you, forcing your eyes to flutter closed and your body to go completely limp. Unable to cling onto consciousness any longer

In those last moments you almost thought that they would just leave you there. Not wanting to bother helping a now passed out stranger, and you wouldn’t have blamed them if they did abandon you. 

Instead when you woke up you were laying on a couch, an older man with short white hair standing over you. 

At first you had almost believed you dreamed it all, the outbreak, the group. That you were in some sort of comatose state and the world was not overrun by flesh eating monsters. But the stinging pain deep within your wrists proved otherwise, the gashes covered by white gauze and medical tape. 

The white haired man, Hershel, ran you through your current state. Malnourishment, dehydration, feverish temperatures. It was evidently clear that you had been through the wringer, and if Glenn and Rick had not found you when they did, you would have died within the day. In fact he had said it was a miracle that Hershel himself could have saved you. 

You figured you had always been stubborn, though, you never gave up easily. 

Hershel had been kind enough to allow you to stay in his house until you got better. Providing you with enough water and food to get you back on your feet. 

The family allowed you to use their shower. When you looked at yourself in the mirror you understood why they were so insistent. A thick layer of grime and blood coated your skin, your hair was matted, your clothes ripped beyond repair. 

You couldn’t help but cry, realizing just how quickly you lost yourself out there. Your humanity has faded so much in such a short amount of time, leaving you a hollow shell of your former self. You looked like a stranger to yourself.

Over the next week Rick’s group urged you to stay. They knew you had nowhere else to go, no family to run back to. 

You were hesitant, though. You didn’t want to continue to be a burden, you were a stranger infiltrating an already close knit group. The closeness they had made you feel even more lonely than you did in your previous group, because at least when it came to them, you didn’t crave that companionship. 

Gone were the days of blind trust, knowing that everything always came with a price these days. So your knife stayed tucked beneath your pillow, fingers clutching onto the handle as you kept an eye on the zipped up entrance of the tent. 

On many sleepless nights, which were frequent, you would sit yourself in front of the dwindling fire outside of your tent. Mind wandering to everything that’s happened to you in the past three months, the things you’ve done to stay alive, the permanent scars you would carry with you for life. 

You stewed in your bitterness. Chewing ruthlessly on the skin around your fingernails. 

Your tent was further away from the rest of the group’s, tucked away in your own area. You found yourself watching the rest of them at first. Thoughts of running away while everyone slept crossed your mind more times than you could count. 

Until one night you heard a twig snap behind you, your knife quickly unsheathed and pointing towards what you thought to be a threat, 

“Geez. You’re almost as bad as Daryl.” One of the older men from Rick’s group, Dale, chuckled as he walked closer to your secluded camp, his hands up in surrender. “But I can go if you want.” He smiled softly. 

“Sorry… Bad habit.” You said quietly, setting your knife back down next to your thigh. 

He shook his head, taking a seat in front of the fire, “No need to be sorry. I can’t blame you for still being a little paranoid.” 

Dale quickly became a source of comfort for you, sporting an almost fatherly personality when talking to you. He was kind, and realistic which was exactly what you needed after everything you’ve been through. Over the course of a few nightly visits he was able to get you to open up a little, telling him about your former group, he was sympathetic and understanding. 

“The world has truly gone to hell.” He grimaced, taking his bucket hat off of his head. “But, we have good people here. Believe it or not.” His smile was reassuring. 

After a few days you started to come around more. Helping the women with laundry, listening to the stories they told about their lives before, anecdotes to keep themselves sane. 

It wasn’t hard to understand why they were so close. The tragedy of their former camp just outside of Atlanta, the C.D.C, Lori’s son getting shot, the people they’ve lost along the way. 

Slowly you felt more like yourself again.

Every so often they would mention that same name Dale did, Daryl. The only member of the group you had yet to meet personally. 

You had seen him walking around the camp, or tucked away in his own tent, further away from the group much like yours was. He was gruff looking, intimidating to the eye, and his occasional temper didn’t help much. But with how insistent he was on finding Carol’s missing daughter, you could tell there was warmth beneath his rigid exterior. 

The first time you talked to him was less than ideal. You were attempting to set up a snare trap in the woods, wanting to try and contribute a little bit more. The frustration quickly turned to embarrassment when he snuck up on you. Your feet got caught in your own trap and caused you to trip and fall. 

“Looks like y’caught somethin’.” Daryl attempted to joke, walking past you and deeper into the woods with his crossbow pointed towards the trees. 

You cut yourself free of the poorly made snare and ran to catch up with him. Choosing your words carefully. 

“Daryl, right?” All you got was a grumble in response, “Listen I know you don’t know me or anythin’... But could you teach me how to hunt?” 

“Teach yourself. I ain’t got time for babysittin’.” His response stung a little, harsher than you had hoped it would be. 

You figured you should have expected that, though, the conversation him and Shane had this morning was heated. An argument almost leading to a full on fight. The tension was growing higher and higher as the days dragged on with no signs of Sophia. 

Then the group found out about what was inside the barn.

One day when Rick was out helping Hershel, Shane took it upon himself to break the chains on the barn door. Walker after walker spilled out, being shot down ruthlessly by some members of Rick’s group, while the Greene family cried out for them to stop. Their worst nightmare coming true, as well as Carol’s. 

A little girl limped out, skin grey and beginning to rot. Her hair was matted with leaves, eyes a milky grey color, and a rasping snarl emitting from her. There was a large gash on her shoulder, a bite. It was devastating to see a child fall victim to such a death. But even more so for Carol, coming to realize that each day they restlessly searched, she had already been dead.. 

The safety that the farm provided didn’t last long after that. 

Shane was quickly losing his grip, Dale was killed by a lone walker, and eventually the fields were overrun by walkers. A massive hoard stumbling onto the property, drawn in by the frequent gunfire. 

You had lost quite a few on that night, good people that had helped you come out of your shell, people that didn’t deserve what they got. In all honesty you didn’t think you would have made it out either if it wasn’t for Andrea and Daryl. 

After the fall of the farm, you were all lost. Hershel and his family had lost their home, and the entire group was left to search. 

But you had to bury your sadness for the time being, winter was quickly approaching. The leaves were changing into a crisp orange color, and the wind had a bite to it in the mornings, leaving you shivering as you huddled closer to the fire. Daryl had been kind enough to let you borrow his poncho some nights, insisting you probably needed it more than him. 

Daryl seemed to warm up to you after a while too. He would subtly make sure you ate by leaving a half eaten can of vegetables next to you, or would occasionally sharpen your knife for you after doing his own. It was a kind gesture, letting you know that he was starting to trust you. 

Eventually it got to the point where your group finally ran out of canned food. There were no stores around, and everyone was too cold or tired to go anywhere. So Daryl decided to take you out to the woods, finally going out of his way to teach you how to hunt. 

“Y’know what you’re trackin’?” He asked one day, slowly walking beside you, following a small winding trail in the woods. 

You were quiet for a second, thinking as you analyzed the tracks next to your feet, “Could be a deer, whatever it is, it’s got hooves.” 

“Obviously.” He huffed, resisting the urge to smile when you glared at him. 

“Shut the hell up, man.” A small sigh came from you, “Could be a hog.” You crouched down and moved the leaves out of the way to get a better look, “The prints are close together, if it were a deer they’d be further apart, right?” 

Daryl just shrugged, “You tell me.” 

That’s how your hunts would usually go, Daryl providing frustrating nonanswers as you attempted to close in on your prey. He wasn’t going to babysit you, as he had originally said when you first asked, you had to figure it out yourself. You knew that was the only way you’d be able to learn, even if it was mildly annoying. 

The winter finally started to melt into spring, temperatures rising and falling occasionally until settling into an in between. And soon enough your restless searching came to an end, the high chain link fences surrounding a prison with walkers meandering the expansive field calling your names. A soon to be shelter for your group and many others. 

The fight against Woodbury had been a painful ordeal, with Maggie and Glenn getting taken hostage, and Daryl leaving with his brother. The group was briefly left in shambles, hanging on by a thread as Rick slowly faded away, losing his way after Lori’s untimely death and the birth of her daughter. 

When Daryl left it broke your heart a little. The two of you had bonded over the course of the harsh winter, often seeking each other out as a heat source. Whispering stories of your families filling the silence as the biting wind wrapped itself around you. But you could never blame him for leaving, knowing you would do the same thing if you could. 

The first attack from the Governor was when Daryl finally returned, his mouthy brother in tow. They had rescued Rick on the outskirts of the fence, luckily finding him just in time before he was overpowered. 

It made you happy to see your friend again, a hand squeezing his shoulder before pulling him into a hug. It had been a lot less awkward than you expected, his arms wrapping around your middle and squeezing softly, reassuring you that he was okay. 

“Well, ain’t that just cute.” Merle had teased, pinching his little brother on the cheek. 

But the tragedies were never ending, your group seemed to constantly be one step away from death’s doorstep. 

The Governor decided to make his way back to the prison, armed gunmen following behind him. 

They wanted to execute every last one of you no matter what it took. Your group had laid out traps, pretending to have left as requested, lulling them in with a false hope that you were gone. Until the shrill sound of the prison sirens started, smoke grenades being thrown down at their feet in the darkened hallways. 

The armed militia of men, mothers, and teenagers the Governor recruited had run away in fear, knowing that their fates would be sealed if they stayed any longer. 

As the weeks continued after the attack, things started to look up. That once forgotten positivity slowly makes its way back into your heart, along with a smile as you allow yourself to get to know the former residence of Woodbury. Your community was slowly forming, a home being made out of the prison. 

It was easy to become comfortable. 

And as your fondness grew for Daryl, you remembered what your mother used to tell you. 

“You will find the one when you least expect it.” 

Who knew that the world had to end in order for you to find him. With every soft touch, lingering whisper, and a quick stolen kiss in the shadows of your cell, it grew increasingly more obvious that your mother may have been right. 

Daryl was the only person you felt safe enough to be vulnerable around. His gentleness towards you breaking down the walls around your heart, settling himself deep within it. And you gladly let him. You both decided to keep your relationship a secret. Enjoying the thrill of sneaking around, while also avoiding any teasing remarks that would come from your group. 

You knew that this was Daryl’s first serious relationship, so you wanted to allow him the grace of warming up to the idea. You wanted him to become more comfortable with himself, taking his time with you, soothing any anxious wandering thought he may have. 

But you knew that the group would notice eventually. Hell, they already were. The small teasing remarks being thrown your way would make Daryl stiffen. He would pick at the strings on his denim jacket as he huffed and grumbled something in response. 

“You want me to slip her a note or somethin’?” Carol teased him, nudging her elbow into his side, “Do you like me? Check yes or no.” She laughed quietly when he rolled his eyes, “Come on Daryl-” 

She was cut off by someone running up to him, Glenn’s frantic eyes meeting Daryl and Carol’s before quickly sputtering out your name, “I don’t know what happened but-” 

The poor boy could barely get the words out before Daryl ran off towards the cell block. 

You were laying in your cell, blood covering your shirt as your side bled profusely. Hershel was quick to try and stop the bleeding, urging everyone to give him room to work. 

“If you want her to live, get out, now!” 

The blood drained from Daryl’s face as he looked at you. Bruises were beginning to bloom on your face and arms, your nose was bleeding and there was a slash on your cheek. Your boyfriend directed his anger towards one of the new members you had taken on a run, pinning him roughly against the concrete wall with his forearm. 

“The hell happened out there?! Huh?!” Daryl shouted in the scared man’s face, shrinking in on himself as Rick and Maggie tried to pull Daryl off. “Talk!” 

“We-” The man gulped, “We got attacked by a small group…” There were tears in his eyes as he tried to explain, his swollen lip trembling. He didn’t look much better than you did honestly, his eye was almost swollen shut, and there was blood coating his hairline, “She said- said she knew them, some group she was with. I thought they were gonna k-kill us.” He swallowed harshly, “They shot her…”

Daryl swore he could see red. His shoulders heaving as he started to pace, fingers running through his hair as he tried to process what the man had said. His face was hot, body pulsing with anger as he glanced back into your cell to see you lying there motionless. 

He stalked back up towards the man, his gaze hard and threatening as he spoke in a gruff voice, “If she dies, her blood is on your hands.” He pressed his finger hard into the man’s chest, pushing him harshly back into the concrete wall before stalking towards the exit of the prison. 

It took the entire council to talk Daryl out of hunting this group down himself. Carol telling him it was a suicide mission, and he would die if he left like this. Going into a situation blinded by rage was never good for anyone, especially now, with you lying unconscious in your cell. 

Luckily for you the bullet went straight through, and all they had to do was wait for you to wake up. 

Daryl didn’t dare leave your side, a rag gently dabbing across your forehead as he whispered softly to you. Unspoken words that he had wished he had told you sooner, words that only you were allowed to hear him say, something he had never dared utter to another person. Not even his own family. 

“I love you.” 

The time seemed to drag on slowly as he waited, his watchful not leaving you for more than a few seconds. His gentle fingers traced patterns on your skin, ignoring the occasional staring that would come from someone passing by your cell. He couldn’t bring himself to care about the secrecy, not now. 

“That fuckin’ tickles.” He suddenly heard you rasp, your eyes fluttering open and glancing down at his fingers on your forearm. 

Relief washed over Daryl like cool rain on a hot summer's day. His shoulders sagged and he couldn’t help but lean his head down to rest on your arm, a long sigh being released from his lungs. 

“Daryl…” You whispered, making him look at you, “It was my old group.” 

The look on your face was similar to the one you sported when they first found you, terrified, lost, confused. You didn’t know what to do with yourself knowing that not only were they still alive, but a lot closer than you would have liked. 

“I know.” He replied, his hand holding onto yours, “You don’t have t’worry about that right now.” 

Even though you were able to find happiness in the apocalypse, tragedy never ceased to sneak up from behind every corner. And you guessed that it had become easy to forget that life had a cruel sense of humor. 

It always would.

[gguk-n]

Hello!! I love your writing style!!

Can you pls do a max verstappen x reader but he’s still into Kelly max is sorry, reader disappeared goes to Korea gets together with jungkook plus now she’s a successful CEO n 2 yrs later she comes back as a baddie fans love her n max regrets

It’s set in 2021 comes back in 2024

P.s make her friends with Charles n Lewis

Thank you hope u take this in consideration

This ask was made in my dreams🥹🥹 thank you to the beautiful nonnie for sending this. I made this as an smau and some writing. I had so much fun making this!!!🫣🫣 hope you enjoy reading this too🥹🥹 changed the timeline a little bit for the story. Max is an ass, sorry. I love Max really but the story needed it

Drifting Into Love

Face Claim- Kim Hye yoon. (Every thing is fiction)

Max was back the next day. Y/N returned from Belgium and was waiting for Max in her apartment in Monaco. Max was one of the very few people who knew that Y/N came from wealth. Her parents had raised her humbly in hopes that the money won't get to her head and she would be a kind and compassionate human. Right now, she felt anything but kind. She felt like smashing Max to a pulp. How dare he lie to her and who does he think he is to humiliate her like this. If he loved her, he should've stayed with her, she thought.

Max stumbled into her house in a panic. "Schat, why are you here?" Max asked trying to hug her. "What do you mean?" she asked. "I mean't why aren't you home?" he asked. She chuckled. "Max, I will not be in a cheater's house, god knows who all you've brought over." she said shaking her head. "I never brought anyone home. And as for Kelly this was a prior arrangement and I couldn't get out of it" he reasoned. "Then you should've told me. I would've come along. But you lied, you knew what you were doing is wrong, that's why you lied to me." she retaliated. "I, Y/N, schat....please" he stuttered. "You have nothing to say Max, also don't call me that. I'm not your girlfriend." she said. "Don't say that" Max said. "I don't care if you love Kelly, I just wish you hadn't lied to me." she lamented. "I'm sorry, I'll do better. I promise" he tried reasoning. "Max, you don't need to. You clearly still love her. I do not plan on being a home wrecker. I hope you both are happy" Y/N said. "Won't you fight for this? our relationship" he asked now in tears. "No, we stopped being a couple the moment you went back to her" she said with a stoic expression. "I'm sorry. You deserve better" Max said hoping she would stay. "I agree. Now can you leave, I have some work to do" she said ushering Max out.

Unbeknownst to Max, she had cried. The all of yesterday, really and Charles and Lewis were ready to kill Max. She some how convinced them not to. They had spent the whole night consoling her and taking care as she tried to mend her broken heart.

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and 23,976 others

y/n.y/l/n Don't forget to take out the trash🙏🙏

user17 What is going on?? Is this related to Max??😭😭 user18 She said, I ain't no one's second choice🫣🫣 user19 She's so pretty!! I wish I was her❤️❤️ charles_leclerc We can take it out for you👀 lewishamilton me and Charles are great at waste disposal. I can compost too🙂 user20 What does Lewis mean by that??They are scaring me🙃🙃 user21 I think she broke up with Max and obviously her best friends hate him, he cheated on their angel.😳😳 user22 I would also compost a man if he cheated on my bestie, I get it lewishamilton 😤😤

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and 289,297 others

y/n.y/l/n Gonna miss my fav photographer🫣😘😍

user23 That photographer is doing us all a service😍😍 user24 I didn't know she could look prettier🥹❤️❤️ user25 The first photo will no one talk about it🤨😳😳 arthur_leclerc Are those hands that photographers?🤔🤔 charles_leclerc arthur_leclerc what do you know?😩😩 lewishamilton we have the cutest bestie, the photographer better not be a man😒 user26 I'm scared of having both Lewis and Charles as best friends, they are too over protective🤣🤣

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and 1,297,229 others

y/n.y/l/n 보고 싶, 돌아와요오빠😭😭💜💜 miss you!! come back oppa

user27 eww!! Oppa you can't date her, you are supposed to end up with me🤮🤮 user28 I don't get what he saw in her??😒😒 user29 Fandom cleanse here I come🤣🤣 user30 She's so pretty. To bag Jungkook, I mean he has taste❤️❤️ charles_leclerc he's the mystery photographer?🤔 lewishamilton can't believe you didn't tell me😤😤 y/n.y/l/n lewishamilton in my defence, you are scary but my boyfriend could take you out ☺️😉 user31 I love the brother sister dynamic Lewis and Y/N have😂😂 user32 she hard launched the fuck out of her relationship❤️❤️🙏 user33 user32 she's staking her claim. I would too, if I was dating Jungkook💜💜😍

Y/N was walking towards the Ferrari when she bumped into Max. "Hello Max" she smiled. "Hi" he replied. "How have you been?" he asked. "Good. You?" she asked. "Good. Surprise to see you here" he said. "Yeah, my best friends said they missed me so.." she said. "Ah yes, Lewis and Charles" Max mulled. "I'll get going then" she announced. "No, wait" Max stopped her. "I'm sorry" he apologised. "For what?" she asked. "For hurting you. I really did like you." he explained. "me too." she lamented. "Can't we try again" he proposed. She let out a big and loud laugh, making Max embarrassed and heads turn. "Sorry Max, but that ship sailed long ago. Aren't you still with Kelly, though?" she asked. Max didn't say anything. "Don't flip flop, love a woman correctly and truly. Also, I'm engaged." she said pointed at her left hand which had a beautiful large diamond on the ring finger which looked like it had found it's rightful owner. "Wish you good luck and Congratulations on the championship last year" she called out while she walked away. Max could only stare at her as she disappeared from his sight.

[maddie0101]

breaking through

— based off of THIS request. I hope you like it nonny ! ❤︎

summary: haunted by rumors, the reader kept her distance from bellamy, but he couldn’t shake the pull he felt toward her. on the ring, they became best friends, but as their bond deepens, will they stay friends or will something more blossom between them?

tags/warnings: fluff, small angst, pinning, clarke's a real one, idiots to friends to best friends (still idiots) to lovers, reader trained under abby, medic!reader, slight jealousy, murphy being murphy (we love him), seriously i love murphy in this fic, slight grief, everyone can see it but them!, about it I think?

word count: 10.6k (ngl this one took me longer than usual 😅)

You weren’t one of the hundred.

No criminal record, no rebellion, no scars from time spent locked in a steel box floating through space.

You came down with the rest of the Ark, wide-eyed, heart racing, adrenaline burning through your veins as the dropship rattled, roared, and screamed against the atmosphere.

You’d trained for emergencies, sure. You’d learned how to keep your hands steady while blood soaked through your gloves. Abby made sure of that. But nothing could’ve prepared you for what Earth really felt like.

You weren’t ready for it all. And still, you had no fucking choice.

You stuck close to Clarke and Raven at first. They were your best friends. You’d been friends on the Ark long before everything went to hell. You met Clarke thanks to Abby. And had known Raven since you were young.

But you were quieter. Shy, sometimes. Not the kind of quiet that made people think you were fragile but more like the kind that made them underestimate you.

You were polite, calm, quick to smile when you warmed up to someone… but it took time. Trust didn’t come easy, and down here, that instinct saved your life more than once.

You didn’t know many of the hundred. Just names and faces. But you got to know them through injuries—dislocated shoulders, burns, deep gashes that split skin open like paper. They came to you in pain, and you did what you could to help.

And that's how you met Octavia.

She was in the infirmary more often than anyone, partly because she was reckless, and partly because, you suspected, she just didn’t give a shit about pain. She’d grin at you with blood running down her arms like it was a normal Tuesday.

You liked her. She made it easy. Called you “Doc” even though you weren’t one yet. Talked to you like you mattered. Dragged you out of your own head without even trying.

But somewhere between patching her up and hearing her bitch about Bellamy, the two of you got close. She didn’t care that you were quieter than the others. She liked that you listened. But then through Octavia… came him. Of course.

Bellamy Blake.

He was a name before he was a person. A story before a face. You’d heard it all, the whispered rumors, the way people talked about him like he was some larger-than-life figure. The leader of the hundred. Ruthless. Brave. Complicated as hell. And, of course, the cherry on top, always had a new girl in his bed.

Clarke never confirmed it. Neither did Raven. But you weren’t stupid. So, you kept your distance.

──────────────────────

The first time Bellamy sees you, it’s not the way most people meet.

You’re not talking, not laughing, not even looking in his direction. You’re crouched in the dirt outside medical, sleeves rolled up to your elbows, a line of blood trailing down your forearm from someone else’s arm. Your brow is furrowed in concentration, mouth set in a calm, steady line, and there’s this light breeze that catches the edge of your hair just enough to make him stare. Not in that dumb, slack-jawed kind of way.

More like something in his chest just… pauses.

Because fuck, he’s never seen someone so beautiful without even trying. You’re not showing off, you’re not putting on a performance. You’re just there—half-hidden in the chaos, doing what needs to be done with steady hands and calm eyes like the end of the world doesn’t scare you.

And he thinks you're absolutely breathtaking.

Not just hot, or just pretty, not just someone to look at. You’re the kind of beautiful that makes people forget what they were about to say. The kind that sneaks up on you, settles in your ribs, and doesn’t fucking leave.

Bellamy leans against the railing just outside camp, arms crossed, pretending to watch the gate like he’s on duty. But really, he’s watching you.

You finish wrapping a guy’s wound, give him a firm pat on the shoulder, and say something with the ghost of a smile. It’s small, barely there, but it makes Bellamy’s stomach twist.

And then you look up, just for a second. Your gaze brushes over him, impassive. Not even curious. Like he’s just part of the background noise. And then you turn back toward the med tent, disappearing inside like he hadn’t existed at all.

He doesn’t realize he’s still staring until Clarke walks by and slaps a folder into his chest, shaking him out of whatever spell you'd put him in.

“Try not to drool,” she mutters without looking at him.

He clears his throat. “I wasn’t—shut up.”

Clarke smirks and keeps walking.

Bellamy tells himself to forget it. Tells himself he doesn’t have time for this, not with the camp barely holding together, with supplies low, and threats high.

But then a few nights later, Octavia brings you up. Sitting around the fire after a long patrol, dirt on her face and blood crusted on her sleeve, and she says your name like it’s something sweet. “She’s funny, you know? Like quiet funny. The kind that hits you five seconds later and actually makes you laugh.”

Bellamy grunts, poking at the flames with a stick. “Didn’t know you hung out with her.”

“Barely,” Octavia sighs, dropping her head back against a log. “We’re always running around doing shit. I wish I could. She gets it, though. Doesn’t take it personal.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his stomach twists again. That same tight feeling from the other day returning.

And soon enough, Bellamy learns, little by little, that everyone seems to know you. Raven always lights up when you’re around. Clarke talks to you like she’s known you her whole life. Even Monty’s cracked a few jokes about your sarcasm.

You’re just… there. In the circle. Part of it. Somehow essential without trying to be.

But you’ve never talked to him. Not once.

You’ve looked right past him in meetings, walked by him like he was invisible. And at first, he figured maybe you didn’t like him. Hell, most people didn’t when they first met him. But the more he watched, quietly, without meaning to—the more he realized you weren’t cold.

You were just careful. And yeah, maybe that makes him want to know you more than he fucking should. But It’s hard to ignore you once you’re part of their orbit.

Every time you’re around, there’s this magnetic pull. And Bellamy starts to notice it more, the way people talk about you when you’re not there. How Raven cracks a smile the second you walk into the room, like there’s an inside joke only the two of you share. How Clarke’s face softens when she says your name, how Octavia’s eyes light up when she talks about you.

It all just makes Bellamy…curious.

Curiosity that eats at him and gnaws away at his thoughts.

He tells himself it’s nothing. You’re just another person at camp. Another face in the crowd. But fuck, he can’t stop thinking about you.

──────────────────────

Bellamy doesn’t need stitches. He’s fine. The cut on his shoulder is shallow enough, just deep enough to sting when he moves, but nothing to really worry about. He’s had worse. But that’s not why he’s heading to the infirmary.

No, he’s not here because of the injury. He’s here because of you.

It was a stupid idea really.

He didn’t need to come here, not really. But every time he passed the infirmary, every time you were around, he found himself thinking about you.

You weren’t loud. You weren’t commanding like Clarke or bossy like Raven. But there was something about the way you held yourself, the way you spoke, that made Bellamy want to know more.

And now, here he is—walking into the infirmary with no real reason other than the fact that he wants to talk to you.

As he pushes the door open, the familiar scent of antiseptic and herbs hits him immediately. You’re sitting at the counter, doing something with a set of needles and thread. You don’t look up when he walks in, but he doesn’t need to be told what to do. He’s been here enough times to know how this works.

So, he clears his throat, loud enough to get your attention but not enough to startle you. “Need some stitches,” he mutters, not looking at you but instead scanning the room like he’s trying to avoid the obvious.

You glance up from what you were doing, eyebrows arched in that way that immediately makes his stomach flutter.

He knows that look. The one where you’re sizing him up, figuring him out, and you don’t even have to say a word. You’re already reading him, and it makes him feel like a fucking open book.

“Let me guess,” you say, voice dry, barely a hint of amusement in it. “Took a tumble, got scraped up. Like I don’t know exactly what kind of trouble you get yourself into.”

Bellamy smirks, leaning against the doorframe. There it is. The sarcasm. The sharpness he’d heard about, but hearing it from you feels like a sucker punch.

“Pretty much,” he answers, trying to keep it casual, even though he’s already starting to get that familiar tightness in his chest. “Nothing too serious. Just need a couple stitches.”

You stand up then, grabbing a needle and a few supplies. “Well, you’ve come to the right place,” you say. “I’m pretty good at this. Don’t expect me to be gentle, though. You’ll live, but you might regret coming in here.”

Bellamy chuckles, following you to the nearest cot and sitting down, trying to act like it’s just another day. But God, his heart is beating a little faster now. And every word you say, every movement you make, feels like it’s building something inside him.

You start prepping the area and Bellamy peels off his shirt off like it was nothing. Blood drips down his arm, staining his skin and making the wound even more obvious, but it’s hard to focus on that with the way his muscles flex with every subtle movement.

Stop staring y/n. You blink, trying to shake thought away.

As Bellamy sat down on the edge of the cot his eyes flicked to your hands as you gathered the supplies.

You don’t dare look at him directly, but you can feel the weight of his gaze, studying every move you make. It feels like the air in the room has thickened and the space between you suddenly too small for comfort.

The quiet seems louder now, somehow. Bellamy's still sitting there, close enough for your arm to brush his every time you reach for something, and that proximity is messing with your focus.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you look at the gash on his shoulder. It’s nothing too deep, but it’s enough that it needs to be stitched up properly.

You glance at Bellamy, who’s still watching you closely. There’s a quiet intensity in his gaze, like he’s trying to figure you out, and for some reason, that only adds to the tension between you two.

Your fingers are a little shaky as you start to clean the wound, trying to ignore the way your heart picks up pace every time you feel the heat of his body so close to yours. You can feel his presence, his eyes tracking every movement you make, and that’s definitely making your pulse spike.

It’s just stitches, you remind yourself. Nothing more than that. Nothing to be nervous about. Right?

But it doesn’t help that you can’t ignore the way his muscles flex when he shifts slightly, or the way his breath catches every time your fingers brush against his skin. You press the sterile cloth against his shoulder, and his breath hitches in response, just barely noticeable. It’s enough to make your stomach flip.

He’s not saying anything, but you can feel the tension radiating off of him, and you wonder if he’s just as affected by this close contact as you are.

“Hold still,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him, trying to focus.

Bellamy doesn’t answer, but there’s a flicker in his eyes, something soft, something almost vulnerable. His usual bravado is gone, replaced with something more… soft? And that only makes it harder for you to concentrate.

As you begin the first stitch, your fingers brush his skin again, the sensation sending a jolt through your body. It’s electric, a little too much for comfort. You can’t help but notice the way his muscles twitch under your touch, the way he holds his breath for a split second. You can tell he’s trying to stay still, but there’s a tension in his body that matches yours.

And then, without thinking, you glance up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time since you started.

His gaze doesn’t waver, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s seeing you the same way you’re seeing him. There’s something in the air between you that wasn’t there before, something new, something uncertain maybe.

His eyes linger on your face as you focus on the stitches, but it’s more than that. It’s like he’s watching you work—like he’s studying you, trying to figure out every little detail.

You finish the first stitch, and the tension between you two builds, thickening like a fog. You try to keep your voice steady, but it betrays you. “This isn’t so bad, right? You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?”

Bellamy chuckles softly, his voice low and rough. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

But his words don’t ease the flutter in your stomach. If anything, they only make it worse. You try to ignore the way his eyes are still on you, the way his breathing is a little more erratic now, like he’s fighting the same nerves you’re feeling.

And with the next stitch, you’re hyper-aware of every small shift in his body, every movement, every subtle intake of breath. His skin is warm under your fingers, his muscles tense with the effort of keeping still, and it’s making it damn near impossible to keep your focus.

But before you can let the moment drag on longer than it should, you finish the last stitch and step back, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“There. All done,” you say, keeping your tone casual, even though you feel anything but.

Bellamy’s gaze softens, and there’s a hint of something unspoken in the way he looks at you. He sits up a little straighter, the tension between you still lingering in the air. “Thanks,” he says quietly, his voice low. “For everything.”

You nod, swallowing thickly. “No problem. Just don’t make a habit of getting yourself hurt, okay?”

Bellamy gives you a small, sincere smile. “I’ll try my best.”

──────────────────────

And as time went on, Bellamy found himself in your infirmary more and more, and it wasn’t because he was trying to get hurt—it wasn’t like he was actively going out of his way to put himself in harm’s way. But instead of patching himself up or asking Clarke or Octavia to do it, he started seeking you out.

The easy way your hands worked, the quiet focus in your eyes—it drew him in. And even though he tried to convince himself that it was just because you were good at what you did, there was something else there, something deeper.

Every time he walked into the infirmary, he found himself hoping for one thing: to see that small smile of yours, or hear you laugh at one of his stupid jokes.

But no matter how hard he tried, you always kept your distance. You weren’t rude to him—not in the slightest.

In fact, you were professional, efficient, and polite, but there was this invisible wall between you and him.

It was like you were letting him in, but only just enough. You didn’t outright push him away, but you certainly weren’t inviting him in either.

At first, Bellamy tried to brush it off. He told himself maybe you were just focused on your work, or maybe you had a hard time trusting people. But after the third time he found himself in that damn infirmary, the same uneasy feeling crept up on him again.

What was it about him that made you keep your distance?

One day you stepped out to get something from the back, leaving Bellamy alone with Clarke (Who was in the infirmary taking inventory) Clarke was watched him with a knowing look in her eyes. And Bellamy shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, trying to pretend like it was nothing. But Clarke wasn’t having it.

“So,” she said, her voice light but carrying an edge, “How many times have you been in here lately, Bellamy?”

He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Clarke’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “You’ve been getting injured more often than usual. Funny how that works, huh? What’s going on?”

Bellamy shrugged again. “I’m not trying to get hurt.”

“Oh cut the shit, Bellamy,” Clarke interrupted, her eyes narrowing. “You like her.”

His heart stopped for a beat. “What? No I don’t,” he stammered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn’t ready for this conversation, not with Clarke, of all people. “I’m just—she’s a good medic.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Then why were you staring at her boobs the whole time?”

Bellamy’s face flushed. “I wasn’t staring at her chest. What the hell are you trying to do, Clarke?”

Clarke smirked. “Nothing. But have you ever thought about why she’s so distant with you?”

Bellamy blinked, the words catching him off guard. He wasn’t expecting Clarke to be so blunt. “What do you mean?”

“She’s heard the things about you, Bellamy,” Clarke said, her voice suddenly softer, more serious. “She’s not stupid. It’s why she’s always so distant with you. She—”

Before Clarke could finish, you walked back into the infirmary, holding a small vial in your hand. Bellamy froze as your presence filled the room, your steps light and easy, like nothing had just been said. You set the item down next to Bellamy with a soft smile that barely brushed your lips.

Clarke straightened up immediately, her eyes narrowing just slightly, like she knew exactly what he was thinking.

Bellamy swallowed, his eyes flickering over to you. Your attention was back on his arm, your focus returning to your expression as you moved. But Bellamy couldn’t ignore the flutter in his chest, or the way his thoughts seemed to race.

Did you really hear those things about him? It wasn’t exactly a secret that he had a reputation, but he’d never thought about how it might affect someone like you.

You finished cleaning the wound and started stitching. Bellamy’s heart pounded in his chest, and for a moment, all the words he wanted to say felt locked inside his throat.

His thoughts raced, but before he could even think of something to say, you glanced up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time since you’d walked in.

──────────────────────

The countdown to Praimfaya was winding down and the weight of everything was pressing on Bellamy's chest.

He paced in the small room, running his hands through his hair. Octavia was safe here. The bunker was protected, secured. But that didn’t mean the fight was over. Not for him anyway. Raven had radioed asking for help.

“We’re on our way,” Bellamy had responded. Clarke was already gearing up, having heard the news.

The plan? simple. Get to Raven, bring her back here, and get back before Praimfaya.

But just as they were about to leave the safety of the bunker, Bellamy’s thoughts were already racing, something caught his eye.

You.

There you were standing in front of the rover, suited up in full gear with a look of determination on your face.

Bellamy’s eyes narrowed in confusion, his heart skipping a beat as he glanced at you. You never got involved in things like this. You preferred to stay on the sidelines, doing your job in the infirmary, keeping to yourself. But now? You were standing there, only doing God knows what. Bellamy’s instinct was to tell you to get back inside, that this was too risky. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t push you away. He wasn't that close to you.

His brows furrowed as you stepped forward, determination in your eyes. “I’m coming with you,” you said, your voice steady, but there was a fire behind it.

Bellamy opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off before he could say anything.

“I’m going to help save Raven,” you continued, your gaze unwavering. “She means a lot to me and I can’t just sit back and do nothing anymore. I’m done with that.” Bellamy's pulse quickened as you climbed into the rover, settling behind him and Clarke.

Bellamy didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to feel about this. There was a part of him that admired you, admired your bravery, but there was also a part of him that was terrified. Terrified of what might happen to you.

He could barely process the reality of the situation. Why now? Why would you put yourself in danger when you had always stayed behind before? The last thing he wanted was for you to be caught in the crossfire, and yet… here you were. Willing to risk everything to help Raven.

“You’re not supposed to be out here,” Bellamy said softly, his voice laced with concern, even though his words were calm. He could feel the familiar tension in his chest, that tight knot forming whenever he cared too much about someone.

You didn’t meet his eyes, instead focusing on the road ahead, your hands gripping the edge of the rover’s seat. “I’ve been on the sidelines long enough.” You paused for a moment, your voice softer now, but still firm. “I have to do the this. For Raven.”

Bellamy swallowed hard, struggling to keep his emotions in check. He glanced at you again, noticing the subtle tremor in your hands that betrayed the nervousness you were trying to hide.

He nodded once, his jaw tight, but he couldn’t argue with you. Not now, not when you were this determined. “Alright, But stay close. We get in, we get Raven, and we get out.”

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The time between that moment and getting on the Ring felt like a blur. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, it almost felt unreal.

Grounders had ambushed you, hunger and desperation in their eyes as they fought for your gear, but before things could escalate, Echo had appeared, saving you just in time.

Then Clarke, always the hero, had made the ultimate sacrifice. Trading her life for the eight of you, ensuring you all made it out alive.

And then, as if the universe couldn’t be any crueler, Praimfaya hit. The sky itself seemed to break open as the deadly radiation spread across the planet.

You, Raven, and Bellamy stood in the cold, sterile window on the Ring, eyes glued to the devastation below.

Tears blurred your vision as you watched the Earth burn right infront of you. It was as if the world outside had stolen the air from your lungs. All you could do was stare at the destruction, helpless, while the planet you once called home burned before your eyes.

You’d just lost one of your best friends, and now, on top of everything, the Earth was gone, for who knows for how long. The weight of it all was crushing, like the ground had disappeared beneath your feet.

For the first two weeks, you didn’t leave your living quarters. You’d picked it out because it felt like the most private space you could find, and now it felt like a prison.

It wasn’t just the grief of losing Clarke, that deep ache that wouldn’t go away—but the fact that the planet you once called home was destroyed.

Everything that had been beautiful, the forests, the oceans…it was all gone. And you had no idea what was left, if anything. The Earth, your Earth, was just… ruined. Gone.

You spent those days in a daze, not knowing how to process it all. You’d stare out the window, watching the stars, your thoughts swirling between Clarke’s sacrifice and the silent emptiness left behind. It was hard to breathe sometimes, the grief so thick in your chest.

You didn’t talk to anyone much during those two weeks, just letting yourself feel everything—the anger, sadness—loss. You didn’t even try to stop the tears when they came.

You let yourself fall apart a little, because honestly, what else was there to do? You couldn’t hold it all in, not after everything that had happened.

But then Raven was there, as she always had been.

She’d come by to check on you, sometimes just sitting with you in silence while you cried. Other times, she cried with you. It was raw, unspoken, but it helped. Her presence was enough to make you feel a little less alone in the heavy mess of emotions you were fighting through.

But what you hadn’t expected was Bellamy. He wasn’t someone you thought would come knocking at your door, especially not now, but he did.

Every day, almost without fail. He’d bring food, not that you could stomach much, but the gesture meant something. He’d knock softly on your door, wait a second, then walk in with his usual look of concern that you were getting way too used to. You hadn’t realized how much you needed that until it happened. Someone just…showing up.

Bellamy was the reason you started to feel a little better, even though you didn’t have the energy to tell him that.

He’d sit with you while you picked at food, sometimes talking about nothing, sometimes giving you space when you needed it. Slowly, the weight on your chest eased just a little. It wasn’t gone—God, it would never be gone, but with Bellamy and Raven around, it was like the grief wasn’t as suffocating. You could breathe a little more easily and you didn’t realize it at the time, but they were pulling you back from the edge.

Slowly, you started to get out of your room more, the walls that had felt so suffocating now just a little less imposing.

The rest of the group, Bellamy, Raven, Murphy, Emory, Harper, Monty, and even Echo, had become like family to you. It wasn’t something you expected, but after everything, you found yourself relying on them in ways you hadn’t thought possible.

At first, you’d start by helping with small tasks around the Ring—checking the supply levels, making sure everyone had what they needed. It was hard to ignore the weight of the grief that still clung to you, but the distractions helped, even if only for a little while.

Raven and Monty would often work together to run diagnostics on the ship’s systems, and you’d end up helping, learning bits and pieces about how the Ring worked. Raven would throw in some sarcastic quips as she worked, making you laugh even when you didn’t feel like it, while Monty would get all excited about tech stuff.

Murphy, surprisingly, had become someone you actually enjoyed spending time with. He didn’t talk much about the past, but when he did, it was dry and honest. You found yourself sharing a few moments of understanding with him. He’d sometimes hand you a drink and you’d end up swapping stories about your old lives on Earth.

Emory and Harper were always off in their own corner, tending to whatever farming needs arose. You’d spent time with them learning how to help.

And Echo… well, she had her own way of showing care. It was indirect, but she would leave you small things—little notes or objects that made you smile. She didn’t say much, but her actions spoke volumes, and over time, you grew to appreciate her presence more than you’d ever thought you would.

But through it all, Bellamy had been there in ways no one else had. His presence had a calm to it that made you feel safe, and over time, you found yourselves growing closer in ways that were hard to ignore.

You’d started helping him. Like checking the air filtration systems and taking inventory. Those moments alone with him, when it was just the two of you working side by side, made you feel things you didn’t want to feel but couldn’t help.

It was subtle at first—small gestures like him tossing you a spare jacket when the Ring’s temperature fluctuated, or that soft, quiet way he’d say your name when asking for help. You’d catch him glancing at you when he thought you weren’t looking, his gaze lingering a little longer than it should have.

The moments grew, and it became more obvious that whatever had been there between you before, had deepened. When he would make you laugh, there was a softness in his eyes you hadn’t noticed before.

The teasing, the sarcastic jokes, the way you’d end up in small, quiet conversations that stretched long into the night. They all started to mean something more.

There were moments where Bellamy and you would sit together and talk about things that had nothing to do with the Ring or survival. It felt normal, like you were just two people getting to know each other, not just two people trying to survive.

One night, you found yourselves sitting side by side in one of the hallways, a bottle of liquor the group had found weeks ago between you. The alcohol was warm and rough, but it did the job. You were both a little buzzed, just enough to make you feel loose, to let your guard down.

And Bellamy leaned back against the wall, his gaze drifting out the window as you both watched the stars. There was something peaceful about the silence that stretched between you, the only sound being the occasional creak of the Ring’s structure.

“You ever think about Earth?” Bellamy asked quietly, breaking the silence.

“Every damn day,” you replied, voice thick with emotion. “I miss the way it smelled… the grass, the rain. It almost didn't feel real. Like a dream.”

He nodded, his expression soft, thoughtful. “Yeah. I miss the little things, too. The stuff you take for granted.”

You didn’t expect the conversation to turn this way, but here it was, the two of you talking like you weren’t on the edge of survival. It felt… real.

After a moment of quiet, you shifted, setting the bottle between you. “I never really thought I’d get along with you, you know?” The words slipped out before you could stop them. You weren’t sure why you said it, but it felt like it needed to be said.

Bellamy tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?” he asked, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “I didn’t know I had that effect on people.”

You rolled your eyes, but the tension between you was different now—lighter, almost. “No, it’s not that. I just heard things. About you. And… well, I didn’t want to get caught up in it.”

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “What kind of things?”

You hesitated for a moment, then sighed, picking at the edge of your sleeve. “You know, the usual,” you said, your voice a little sheepish. “That you had a temper, you were cocky, arrogant… and that you thought you could sleep with any girl you wanted.”

Bellamy snorted, the laugh escaping before he could catch it. “Well, first part isn't exactly wrong, is it?” he said with a crooked grin.

You shot him a look, half exasperated, half amused. “And I always thought, with you being in charge, that you’d never even look my way. I mean, I’m just some medic, right?”

Bellamy’s expression softened as he turned his gaze back to you. “First off, you’re a damn good medic,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically sincere. “I’ve seen you work, and trust me, that’s not something I take lightly.”

You blinked at him, a little taken aback by his praise. “I—thanks,” you muttered, caught off guard by his honesty. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Well, you should,” Bellamy replied, his usual confidence coming back in waves. He leaned back against the wall, tapping the bottle lightly against his knee. “But as for the rumors… Some of them are true.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but Bellamy just shrugged, as if it was nothing. “I do have a temper sometimes. Can’t deny that. And yeah, I’m a little cocky. Comes with the job.” He gave you a pointed look, but his tone was lighter now, like he wasn’t taking himself too seriously. “I don’t try to sleep with every girl, though.”

He didn’t say anything after that, and for a moment, there was a silence that hung between you. Bellamy’s gaze drifted, his eyes momentarily unfocused as if he was deep in thought. His lips pressed together, and you could feel the shift in the air.

In that silence, Bellamy’s mind raced. He didn’t want to be the guy everyone assumed he was—but he had to be. To survive. Earth wasn't for the weak.

But sitting here with you, hearing you open up to him like this, was different. It felt real. He was different around you.

But, damn, he had wanted more for a while now. He’d always wanted to be more than just the guy in charge, the one who made the tough decisions. With you, he felt like he could just be himself. And that made it harder to hold back.

He wasn’t going to rush it. He couldn’t. You’d only just started to open up to him, and he didn’t want to ruin it. The last thing he needed was to complicate things when you were just beginning to trust him.

He shifted in his spot, trying to push the thoughts away, but the fact was, the only girl he wanted in this world was sitting right next to him.

He felt a tightening in his chest, but he wasn’t about to let it ruin everything. Not yet. Not when it felt like you two were finally starting to understand each other.

Bellamy cleared his throat, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “You know,” he began, his words soft, “I’ve always noticed you.”

You raised an eyebrow, a little confused. “What do you mean?”

He leaned back slightly, looking up at the ceiling for a moment as he collected his thoughts. “Sure, I’ve been busy—keeping the camp together, making sure everyone stays alive. But, even with all that, I’ve always wanted to get to know you better. I’ve always seen you there, doing your thing, helping out. I just… never really got the chance to talk to you.”

You were silent for a moment, processing his words. He seemed so sincere. It wasn’t something Bellamy often showed to just anyone.

“I get it, though,” he continued, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “I know why you avoided me. I’ve been… a lot to deal with, and I know people talk. But it doesn’t bother me that you kept your distance. Honestly, I get it.”

His eyes flicked to you, meeting yours with an understanding that made your chest tighten. “But I’m glad we’re talking now,” he added, his tone just a little warmer. “Glad we’re getting to know each other.”

You swallowed, your heart unexpectedly racing. “I shouldn’t have avoided you,” you said, your voice coming out a little softer than you meant. “I shouldn’t have let rumors and what other people said get in the way. I should’ve just… tried to be friends with you from the start. Because you’re… you’re a really good person, Bellamy. So much different than I ever thought.”

Bellamy’s gaze softened as he listened, and you could see it in his eyes, the way he was hanging on every word you said. He wasn’t just hearing you; he was feeling it too.

“You’re nothing like the guy I thought I knew from the rumors,” you went on, your words flowing a little easier now, like you finally had the chance to let everything out. “You’re smart, and strong, and… you actually care about people. I’ve seen that.”

Bellamy’s chest tightened at your words. He could feel himself getting caught up in the moment, caught up in the way you were looking at him, the way your words seemed to reach into something deeper inside him. His heart started beating faster. He’d always thought you were amazing, strong, intelligent, beautiful—but hearing you say this… it hit him harder than he expected.

His eyes softened, and for the first time in a long while, Bellamy felt exposed. Like he wasn’t just the leader. He wasn’t just the guy who kept everyone alive. In that moment, all he was, was someone who was falling for you.

The silence that followed was different from the others—it wasn’t awkward or strained. But It was calm. Comfortable. And, for a brief moment, neither of you said anything. You just sat there, letting the conversation settle, letting the weight of the moment press gently between you.

Bellamy felt himself falling for you more and more, and for the first time, he didn’t mind it. It wasn’t something he had planned, but it was real, and it felt good. Almost too good.

You, however, were oblivious to the effect your words had on him. You kept going, caught up in the moment, eager to share what had been on your mind for so long.

“You know,” you began, eyes still focused on the window, “I’ve seen how you protect Octavia. It’s something else. You’re always looking out for her, even when everything’s falling apart. It’s like… she’s your world, right?” You paused, your thoughts spilling out faster now. “And honestly, I don’t know how you do it, leading the camp, dealing with the Grounders, all of that. I’d lose my mind. I mean, you’re always so level-headed, and you keep it together, no matter what happens. It’s like you’re carrying the weight of everyone else’s survival on your shoulders, and I… I don’t even know how you deal with that.”

You felt the words rushing out, as if they couldn’t leave you fast enough. “I can’t imagine having to make those calls, those tough choices. You just… you do it. Without question, and I don’t think anyone realizes how hard it must be for you. You’re not just the leader; you’re the one who carries all of that. You and Clarke.”

As the words spilled from your mouth, you started to realize you were rambling. You felt a heat rise in your cheeks, suddenly self-conscious of everything you’d just said. You quickly shut your mouth, an awkward silence hanging between you, but when you turned to glance at Bellamy, you saw him watching you.

His expression was soft—softer than you had ever seen before. It wasn’t the hardened, stoic leader you were used to.

No, this was Bellamy, the man who was genuinely listening, genuinely understanding. It made your heart skip a beat. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the sight of him looking at you like that.

His eyes flickered down to your lips for just a moment, and your breath caught in your throat.

You saw him lick his bottom lip, and before you could even process it, your body was moving toward his, drawn in like magnets. His gaze was fixed on your lips now, and you couldn’t help but think—this was it.

This was the moment. He was going to kiss you.

But then, in a split second, the moment shattered.

A soccer ball came flying between you two, slamming into the wall with a thud. The sound was jarring, ripping the tension out of the air like a knife. You both jumped back, blinking as if the world had just flipped upside down.

You immediately turned your head, and Bellamy did the same, both of you catching sight of Murphy standing at the end of the hallway. He was grinning, clearly guilty, and his smirk said it all.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,” Murphy said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You and Bellamy exchanged a quick glance before rolling your eyes in unison. You both sighed in exasperation, and for a brief second, it was as if nothing had changed.

The moment you shared felt like a dream, fading back into the background, only to be replaced by the usual Murphy antics.

“Seriously?” Bellamy muttered, standing up and brushing off his pants, shooting a glare down the hallway.

Murphy sauntered over with zero remorse, spinning the soccer ball on one finger like he hadn’t just shattered the most intense moment of your life. He smirked, eyes flicking between you and Bellamy.

“Damn,” he drawled. “Didn’t mean to interrupt whatever… slow-burn romance was happening over here.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Next time, I’ll knock.”

Your face immediately flushed. “Murphy,” you hissed, eyes wide, hoping the heat in your cheeks wasn’t as obvious as it felt.

But Murphy just grinned wider. “What? You guys were like this close.” He held his fingers together with barely an inch between them. “Another five seconds and I’d be walking in on a PG-13 moment. Or maybe R. Hard to tell with you two.”

Bellamy groaned and ran a hand down his face, muttering under his breath, “Unbelievable.”

You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh from sheer embarrassment. “Can you not be the worst for, like, one day?”

Murphy gave you a mock salute. “No promises, doc. Carry on with your emotionally repressed bonding or whatever.”

As he disappeared down the hallway, whistling, you turned to Bellamy, still mortified. “I want to melt into the floor.”

Bellamy didn’t say anything right away—he just looked at you with that same softness from before, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “For the record,” he said quietly, “it wasn’t a bad moment.”

You blinked, heart skipping. “Yeah…”

The word hung in the air, soft and uncertain. You stood slowly, brushing invisible dust from your pants just to have something to do with your hands. “I think I’m gonna head to bed,” you added, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bellamy gave a short nod, standing too, though neither of you moved for a second. The weight of the almost-moment still buzzed between you. But neither of you crossed the line again.

“Night,” you said, forcing a small smile before slipping away down the hallway, your pulse still racing.

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That night changed something. Even though nothing happened, it felt like something did. Like something had cracked open, quietly, and neither of you had quite figured out what to do with it.

But now it was year three.

Three years of space, stars, and rationed coffee. Three years of making a new life on the Ring with the same faces and recycled air. Three years of Bellamy becoming your best friend.

That night you almost kissed? It never got mentioned again. But it was always there, unspoken, a ghost that lingered in the way you sat close when you didn’t have to, in the way he remembered how you liked your tea, or how you always sought him out first when something went wrong.

You wanted him—God, you wanted him—but the fear of ruining whatever this was kept your mouth shut.

Things had gone back to normal after that night, at least on the surface. Except now, “normal” meant brushing shoulders in the hallway and pretending you didn’t feel the burn, sneaking glances when you thought the other wasn’t looking, and feeling that ache every time he smiled at you like you were the only person in the galaxy.

Everyone else had noticed too. Especially Murphy.

You were on the other side of the room, half-distracted while organizing a few medical supplies on the counter, sleeves pushed up, hair pulled back, face soft with focus. Bellamy’s eyes flicked to you without thinking—like they always did.

He didn’t notice Murphy sidle up beside him until he heard that smug, knowing voice. “You ever gonna make a move, or are you just gonna keep staring at her like a damn puppy?”

Bellamy didn’t even glance at him. “Shut up, Murphy.”

Murphy huffed a laugh and leaned against the table, arms crossed, gaze trailing to you. “I’m serious, man. If I were you, I’d get on that. Fast. Girl like that? She won’t stay single forever.”

Bellamy’s jaw clenched. Who would she possibly get with? There's only eight of them up in space? Monty and Harper are together. Murphy and Emori are together. So that only leaves him, Raven, and Echo.

Murphy, clearly enjoying himself, didn’t stop. “Actually…” He tilted his head, like the thought just came to him. “I think Echo’s got a bit of a crush.”

That got Bellamy’s attention. His eyes narrowed, lips parting as he turned to face Murphy fully. “What?”

Murphy grinned like a kid with a lighter and a can of hairspray. “You didn’t notice? The way she looks at her. Always offering to help her with stuff. It’s kinda sweet, actually.”

Bellamy furrowed his brows, glancing at you again. Echo had been around you more lately. Always standing a little closer than necessary. Always talking to you in that quiet, deliberate way. His stomach twisted, but not with fear, but with something sharper. Possessive. Irritated.

Murphy clocked it instantly. “Huh,” he said, drawing the word out with a shit-eating grin. “Maybe Echo’ll get to her first.”

Bellamy shot him a look that could kill. But Murphy wasn’t done. His smirk deepened, eyes flicking toward you before leaning in a little closer. “I mean… Echo’d probably take real good care of her. Might even make her forget all about you.”

Bellamy’s jaw clenched so tight, it hurt. His fists curled under the table, nails biting into his palms. He didn’t answer—wouldn’t give Murphy the satisfaction.

But the asshole just kept going. “She’s got that thing about her, doesn’t she? That quiet kind of charm. All that sweetness. Bet she’s the kind that holds your hand first, then ruins you in the best way.”

Bellamy’s head snapped toward him, fire behind his eyes. “Murphy—”

Murphy just shrugged with a devilish grin. “What? I’m just saying, someone’s gonna snatch her up eventually. If you’re not careful, might not be you.”

Bellamy took a breath. In and out. Just in time because then you were back, walking over with that soft smile that always made him feel like gravity had shifted slightly beneath his feet. You dropped into the seat next to him, completely unaware of the conversation that had just taken place.

“Hey,” you said, nudging his arm lightly. “You wanna do a movie night tonight? Just us?”

Bellamy blinked, all that tension in his shoulders bleeding out as he turned to look at you. Your eyes were hopeful and excited.

God, you had no idea what you did to him. He swallowed and gave you a small, warm nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

Your smile lit up your whole damn face. “Awesome. I’ll see you tonight then—I’ve got inventory duty for a bit.” And then you were up and off again, already moving down the hall with a small skip in your step. Bellamy watched you go, something soft tugging behind his ribs.

But then his gaze snapped back to Murphy, who was still sitting there, smug as ever. “Movie night, huh?” Murphy grinned, leaning back in his chair. “You better make that move, dude. Please, for the love of God—make a move.”

Bellamy narrowed his eyes, but Murphy was already standing, gathering his tray. “Oh, and just… keep it down tonight, yeah?” Murphy added with a wink. “My room’s just down the hall.”

Bellamy didn’t say anything. But if looks could kill, Murphy would’ve dropped dead five minutes ago.

──────────────────────

Bellamy knocked softly on your door before letting himself in, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “You ready for this movie night, or what?” His voice had that familiar cocky edge to it, but there was a softness underneath it, like he was trying to mask the fact that he was actually a little nervous.

You flashed him a grin as you kicked the blankets back, making room for him on the bed. “Yeah!” You patted the spot beside you, and without thinking, Bellamy settled down next to you, his body warmth immediately seeping into yours. The bed was a little too small for both of you, but it felt comfortable. Safe, even.

He shifted slightly, propping himself up on an elbow as you stretched out beside him, settling your head comfortably on his chest.

He could feel the gentle rise and fall of your breathing as you relaxed, your arm resting across his stomach. The faintest hint of your shampoo lingered in the air, a quiet reminder that you were here, in this space, together.

Bellamy’s mind raced as the opening credits rolled. He was trying to focus on the movie, but all he could think about was the steady warmth of your body against his, the way you fit so perfectly in his arms.

He had spent so long fighting this. Fighting the pull between you two, telling himself it was just a friendship. That the two of you could never be anything more.

But tonight…everything felt different. His heart thudded in his chest, the tension building slowly with every beat. He couldn’t help but steal glances at your face, the way the light from the screen danced across your features, softening your expression.

He wanted so badly to just say something. To reach for the words that had been trapped in his throat for months. But what if he ruined this? What if everything fell apart the moment he told you how he felt?

You shifted slightly, glancing up at him. Your eyes met his, and for a split second, time seemed to stop. There was something in the way you looked at him. Something that made his chest tighten.

“Bell…” you murmured, voice soft, almost hesitant. “Are you alright? You’re being extra quiet tonight.”

He swallowed hard, fighting the instinct to pull away, to make the joke that would push all of this aside. But he couldn’t do it. Not tonight. Not when it felt like everything was about to shift.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice just a little rougher than usual. “Just… thinking.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing the shift. “About what?”

He hesitated, unsure how to explain the flood of emotions he was feeling. His thoughts had been swirling in his mind for weeks, months, years even. How every time you laughed, every time you made him smile, it felt like something more was building between the two of you.

The connection was undeniable, but he’d kept pushing it away, convincing himself it wasn’t the right time. He couldn’t mess this up, not when everything between you was finally feeling right.

But as the night went on and the movie played softly in the background, Bellamy couldn’t ignore the tug in his chest.

The way you were curled up against him, your breathing steady as you nuzzled into his side, made his heart thrum with a quiet intensity. You’d always been close, but tonight something felt different. It was like the air itself had thickened between you two, charged with something he couldn’t define but knew he didn’t want to lose.

You, however, seemed blissfully unaware of his internal battle. You just sighed softly and relaxed further into his side, brushing your cheek against his chest, letting the comfort of his warmth surround you. Bellamy had always been protective, but now? Now, he just wanted to keep you close. Wanted to make sure you were safe and happy, especially when you were so trusting of him.

For a moment, Bellamy thought you might’ve fallen asleep, your breathing slowing. But then, you shifted, lifting your head just enough to look up at him.

And when you did—God. It hit him like a wave.

Those eyes. The ones he’d been stealing glances at for months, never daring to get lost in.

Now, they were focused entirely on him, those big, soft eyes that made his heart race. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, and the whole world seemed to stop. His breath caught in his throat. This was it.

“Bell…” you whispered, your voice soft, uncertain, but your gaze steady. You could feel the shift in the air too.

He opened his mouth to speak, to say something—anything, but the words wouldn’t come. His chest tightened, his throat dry. All he could do was whisper your name in return, a barely audible sound of longing, of fear, of everything building inside him.

You leaned in, ever so slightly, and that was all the invitation Bellamy needed. He was already moving, drawn to you like a magnet, leaning forward with his eyes locked on yours, the distance between you closing.

When your lips finally met, the world seemed to fall away. It was everything Bellamy had imagined and more.

The soft pressure of your lips, the heat that seemed to ignite between you, sending sparks shooting through him. Bellamy melted into the kiss, his hand instinctively cupping your face, the other gently pulling you closer.

You kissed him back with just as much intensity, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart. For a moment, there was nothing else in the universe but the two of you, lost in this perfect, long-awaited moment.

The kiss deepened, a slow, intoxicating pull that neither of you could resist. The tension that had been hanging between you both for years was finally released, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Bellamy could breathe freely, knowing you felt the same.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, you stayed close, your forehead resting against his.

The soft hum of the movie continued in the background, but it didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was this—this moment, this feeling.

Bellamy let out a shaky breath, his thumb gently brushing your cheek as he stared down at you, a small, contented smile on his lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he murmured, his voice low, rough with emotion.

You smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling with a mix of joy and something deeper. “Me too,” you replied, your voice just as soft.

Bellamy couldn’t help but smile back, but it didn’t last long. As if on instinct, his lips were back on yours, this time with more urgency, more passion.

The kiss deepened as he leaned into it, his body pressing against yours. His hand slid to the side of your face, gently cupping it as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss even further.

You responded just as eagerly, your hands moving up to tangle in his hair, tugging him closer. Everything felt electric—every touch, every shift in position, every breath you shared.

Before either of you could pause for a second, Bellamy rolled on top of you, his body caging you in, the weight of him not suffocating but comforting, grounding. He could feel your heart racing beneath him, matching his own, and it made him even more restless.

You let out a small, breathy moan as his lips trailed down to your neck, a sound so soft but so full of need that it drove him insane.

Bellamy froze for a split second, his breath hitching. That sound, that little noise, was everything to him. It was like he was hearing something new, something he could only describe as his. He couldn’t help but smile against your skin, a low, almost possessive chuckle slipping from his lips.

“What was that?” he murmured, his voice rough and laced with desire. The question was teasing, but the truth was, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. That sound was burned into his mind now. His new favorite sound.

You gave a small, almost embarrassed laugh, your hands running down his back, feeling the heat of him through the fabric of his shirt. “Nothing,” you replied, your voice breathless.

But Bellamy wasn’t buying it. He pulled back just enough to look down at you, his eyes dark with a mix of affection and raw hunger. “It didn’t sound like nothing,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours again. The kiss was slow now, soft but filled with intention. “It sounded like…I don’t know, like I could drive you crazy.”

Your heart raced as you felt the weight of his words, but the truth was, he was doing just that. Your chest rose and fell with each breath, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts as you felt yourself being pulled deeper into the moment.

“Bell…” you whimpered, not sure what you were asking for, but needing him to understand how much this meant. How much he meant.

His eyes softened, the playfulness fading for a moment as he looked at you with that familiar, intense gaze. He brushed your hair back from your face and leaned down, kissing you gently, slowly, as if savoring the moment.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered against your lips, and you could feel the truth in his words, in the steady way he held you, in how carefully he kissed you, as if you were everything to him.

Because you were.

──────────────────────

You and Bellamy woke up tangled in each other. The night had been intense, filled with everything you both had been holding back. Now, as morning came, you felt the weight of the night before settle around you.

You stretched, your body sore but in a way that felt good. Bellamy was already awake, watching you with a soft smile, his hand brushing your hair out of your face. “Morning,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, still thick with the remnants of last night’s heat.

“Morning,” you whispered back, still feeling the traces of his touch lingering on your skin. Your eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like nothing in the world mattered except the two of you.

After a few quiet moments, you both reluctantly got dressed, each of you trying to maintain a form of normalcy as you headed to breakfast. Bellamy had that smug, satisfied look on his face, and you felt your cheeks flush every time you caught his gaze.

As you walked into the mess hall, the sound of chatter and the smell of food filled the air. Everyone was gathered around, casually eating and talking, when Raven stopped mid-sentence, her eyes flicking between you and Bellamy. “Finally,” she said with a knowing grin, her voice dripping with teasing.

You and Bellamy froze, both of you looking at each other in confusion. What the hell did she mean by that?

But before you could figure it out, Murphy, who had apparently been waiting for this moment—looked up from his plate, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Well, well, well,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “So that’s what all the noise was about last night. Should’ve figured, with all the… excitement echoing down the hall.”

Your eyes widened, the blood rushing to your cheeks. You could feel your body heat up in a way that made you want to sink into the floor.

All the excitement? You hadn’t realized it had been that noticeable.

Bellamy’s face darkened, and his jaw tightened, but Murphy wasn’t done. “Honestly, Bellamy, you’ve been holding out on us,” he continued, his smirk widening. “I was wondering when you two would stop pretending.”

You shot a glance at Bellamy, your face turning bright red and your stomach flipped with embarrassment.

Bellamy, on the other hand, looked between you and Murphy with narrowed eyes. “Shut up, Murphy,” he muttered, clearly trying to keep his cool, but it was clear that Murphy’s words had hit a nerve.

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Murphy went on, voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness. “I thought I’d hear more of the usual ‘quiet down’ requests, but, apparently, you two don’t mind an audience.” He winked, and you almost wished you could disappear into your chair. Murphy leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the moment.

You buried your face in your hands for a second, trying to laugh it off, but the embarrassment was too much. Bellamy, however, wasn’t fazed. His pride was written all over his face, and it only made you blush more.

Noticing how flustered you were, Bellamy leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary. “You’re cute when you blush,” he murmured, his voice low and affectionate.

You felt your heart skip a beat at the simple gesture, and your face burned even more, but before you could say anything, Murphy and Raven both simultaneously let out exaggerated, fake gagging noises.

“Ugh, seriously?” Raven groaned, dramatically clutching her chest. “Now we have to watch you two be all lovey-dovey for the rest of eternity?”

Murphy, grinning like a cat who’d just caught a mouse, chimed in with a sarcastic tone, “Great, just what we needed, more of this. Can you not be all cute and perfect for, like, five seconds?”

Bellamy smirked at them, clearly enjoying the reaction, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It felt good to be teased by your friends, especially with Bellamy by your side, looking more confident than ever.

But then, as the laughter died down, you turned to him, meeting his gaze. It was one of those moments where the world seemed to fade away, and it was just the two of you. You couldn’t ignore it any longer, couldn’t pretend that there wasn’t something more between you.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words finally tumbling out, raw and real.

Bellamy’s eyes softened, his expression shifting from playful to serious as he reached out to cup your face gently in his hands. “I love you, too,” he said, his voice steady but filled with so much emotion that it made your heart swell.

The words hung between you two, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. The teasing, the embarrassment, the awkwardness—it all seemed to fade away in the light of the confession, and it was just you and him, finally on the same page.

Murphy and Raven exchanged knowing glances, their smirks widening, but neither of them said anything more. There was nothing left to say. The rest of the world could wait; right now, all that mattered was the quiet truth that you two were together. And that was enough.

author’s note:

hi guys! I hope you enjoyed this one! I’m so sorry my fics for bell are taking awhile. I still love bell but my focus is slowly shifting more towards dean & soldier boy more than anyone else :(

I have about 4-5 more requests to fill for bell so I’m definitely not done writing for him! I’m only just taking a break after the requests so that I can write more of what I want to.

anyways, nonny I hope you enjoyed this one! ❤︎

tags:

@rubydacherry42 @chalametsangel @imsiriuslyreal @dobfavgirl @kimxwinchester @tinas111

If you would like to be tagged please fill out THIS form and I will add you to the list! ❤︎

my works

© maddie0101 do not copy or repost my works without my permission.

[buckgasms]

Hi! Big fan of your work and okay you asked for it but I imagine mean bully!Bucky where he has his eyes on this young agent who just joined the team and she’s just so sweet and shy and he already fell for her when his eyes landed on her. He always secretly steals her underwear and she’s so sweet that she cries when she saw a cat got hurt on the street and Bucky saw her running to Bruce so he can help the cat, BIG MISTAKE cause the way her tears runs down her face he thinks she’s so beautiful and hot and it makes him more horny and so that’s where he starts bullying her just to see her tears and he step it up one day that during training he pinned her down and he can smell her getting turned on so he call her name until she cries but he just continues and put his thigh between her legs and he’s just so mean about it that before she gets any released he stops and ever since he can’t keep his hands off okay sorry if it’s weird

Thanks beautiful nonnie 🩷

Hmm ok so this sounds like a dark!Bucky to me, what with the underwear stealing and loving to watch her cry right?

Which I am certainly happy to accommodate 😈

This went a bit off course but i hope it's ok! It is a bit dark so please proceed with caution! ☢️

I imagine that first night after he sees you really crying, big tears sliding down your cheeks he's got your underwear wrapped around his cock as he fists himself over and over again, just imagining your pretty face and how much he would love to make to cry over and over.

It takes him so long to calm down from it because he just can't control the fire in his belly every time he thinks about you. So sweet and innocent, ready to submit and do whatever your told, take whatever he gives.

I bet he'd constantly tell you to stay late at the gym to work on your punches, belittling you and reminding you how weak you are and how you'd need someone to look after you all the time.

Maybe he sneaks into the showers to listen to your muffled sobs of frustration and tiredness just so he has something new to imagine later that night.

☁️

And maybe one night you are sparring with him and he lands a jab right to your stomach and you drop to the floor, winded and you burst out crying right then and there. He has to keep a straight face because he can't believe how fucking beautiful you look, sobbing and sweaty, laid out in front of him.

He drops to the floor pressing his knee right into your core and leans down, hands either side of your head as he comes in real close.

"How many times have I told you, you aren't up to this. You need protecting little girl..."

You huff and shake your head, pouting a little as you sob. 

"No I don't, you just keep treating me like shit and that last kick hurt..."

He grins before pressing his knee harder into your core and pinning your hands down to the mat. Before you can stop it a little moan escapes your lips, even as your eyes widen in shock.

"Doesn't sound like I'm treating you bad now, does it baby?" You curse as he grinds again, chuckling as you whimper and more tears spring from your eyes.

"Cut it out...let me go..."

He hesitates for a moment before relenting, sitting back on his haunches and watches you walk away in a hurry.

☁️

He wasn't sure if you'd come back again, but there you were bright and early, refusing to back down. 

This time he decided to ignore you. He left you till last each time there was an activity, and would just tut every time you didn't do something perfectly. 

So you tried harder. He could tell by the end you were desperate for some kind of reaction, but he gave you nothing.

When it came time for the hand to hand combat you were positivly fuming. So you kicked and punched and clawed at him with all you might. He had to put up a bit of a fight to keep you off but he did eventually manage to floor you.

He dismissed everyone but you didn't move. When the last person filtered out you were still stood on the mat, panting.

"I'm not done."

He smirked and dropped his kit bag. Squaring up to you on the mat. Before he could reply you lunged at him and scrabbled with each other for a good few minutes before he pinned you again.

"You gonna cry baby?" He mocked as you squirmed and groaned, tears leaking down your cheeks in your anger.

You managed to kick at his crotch, winding him slightly and escaping from his grasp, but he recovered quickly and as you rolled over he slammed his body down on top of you, his breath coming in pants by your ear.

"That wasn't very nice" he growled before manouvering to sit on your legs, gripping your hands behind your back. You continue to squirm and wail as he drags down your shorts and underwear.

"You wanna act like a brat, I'll treat you like one..." His first slap stops your movement and you gasp. He knows this is risky but he doesn't care, he lands spank after spank on your perfect ass, enjoying the little squeaks from you as he covers you in red hand marks.

Your body is shaking with sobs as he works, which only serves to make him hard as he keeps going, occasionally spreading you ass cheeks to look at your pretty holes, which he notes is glistening despite your protests.

Finally he climbs off you and presses his face into your ass, taking a deep sniff and pressing little kisses to your lips and ass cheeks before rolling you over to lie on your back.

Your face is blotchy and puffy from tears, and he drags you so your thighs are wrapped around his waist.

"There you are, much better, and so fucking pretty hmm?"

You whine as he paws at you, but you don't fight him, you just watch him rake his hands all over. 

"Why are you so mean to me?" 

Your little voice takes him by surprise and he leans over, pressing his hard body against your soft one.

"I'm not mean baby, I'm just worried about you. I want you to be safe, I wanna take care of you. Plus you look so pretty like this, I can't help it baby...."

You sob as he presses kisses to your tear stained face, but he relishes the way your soft lips respond to his, accepting his kisses as he dominates you.

"Do you understand now? You want me to make you feel better now sweetheart?" He keeps kissing you, grinding against your bare heat, waiting until you nod.

"Good girl, let me make you feel better now..."

He pulls back and smirks as he sees your eyes widen as his cock is pulled out and slapped against your heat.

You whine and protest a little as he drags the tip against your soaked folds but he hushes you with a finger in your mouth, sinking his cock in slowly but relentlessly until he is all the way inside you.

"S'too big Bucky... Can't...." You protest but he can feel your walls squeezing him tighter as he waits for you to settle.

"Yes you can baby. I can feel your cunt, doesn't wanna let me go does it? Tell me, tell me you want it..."

You squirm and moan as more tears slid down your cheeks. He growls and catches them with his thumb and sucking them, still waiting for you to respond.

"Fucking say it baby, tell me you want it..."

Your breath shudders but you nod and without waiting another moment he begins rutting into you. He can't believe how good you feel, how tight and soft you are. He loses himself in the pleasure, leaning down to lick and kiss at your tears as you wail in pleasure.

Your moans echo around the gym, and he feels you grip onto his shoulders as he pounds into you. 

"Bucky... Please..."

He pulls back, lifting your thigh to plant more smacks to your already sore cheeks, making you squeal and cry, your walls squeezing him tighter, fluttering as your peak builds.

"Come baby, show me what a good girl you are. My pretty little cry baby..."

More squeezes, more slaps and tears follow until you reach your peak. He follows quickly after, filling you up and claiming you as his own.

He collapses into the mat next to you, panting and sweating as you lay next to him shaking and whining. 

Eventually he gets up and pulls his shorts on, before pulling your underwear up tight and hauling you up and cupping your face in his hands. 

"Now, I wanna see you here tomorrow after class for another lesson alright? We're gonna work on things together and I can take good care of my little cry baby ok?"

You sniffle and nod at him, so he rewards you with a soft kiss before sending you off on your way.

He's definitely going to hell, but as he watches you scurry away he thinks, he doesn't really care.