#they have to have been a mix of him and someone else

[pickingupmymercedes]

That girl (woman) - Lewis Hamilton

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: That girl - Olly Murs

pairing: Husband!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: fluff

a/n: tried a little something different with the pov and the narrative, let me know what you guys think.

wordcount: +1k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

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It was a regular Wednesday mid-autumn, the kind of quiet morning in the Hamilton household that felt precious in its ordinariness. Lewis sat at the edge of their bed, balancing a tray loaded with her favorite redberry pancakes and a fresh bouquet perched precariously on the side table.

Before we dive deeper, let me share a little secret about Lewis. He’s a legend on the track—speed, skill, mind, the whole package. But there, in their Monaco apartment, watching his wife sleep soundly as morning eased into afternoon, he was just a man.

And as he gazed at her with a strange mix of tenderness and a touch of guilt, it was clear he was reflecting on what he nearly threw away once.

You see, Y/n hadn’t been just any woman in his life. She’d been a force, a renowned stylist, beloved by many. And Lewis, in a past he now could only shake his head at, had once thought he was doing her a favor by pushing her away.

He’d believed that she deserved someone less weighed down by a career that dragged him across continents, with fame that threw him, and her by default, under every public spotlight.

So, in a moment of misguided self-sacrifice, he’d told her she deserved better. Needed to leave him, he’d said, so she could find someone who could give her the life she deserved.

But she’d seen through his words. She’d planted herself firmly in his life and told him, in no uncertain terms, that if he truly wanted her gone, he’d have to make the effort to really let her go.

He hadn’t, of course— couldn’t. And now, there she was, their child growing inside her, still by his side.

Back in the bedroom that overlooked the Mediterranean Sea, Y/n began to stir, her dark lashes fluttering as she woke.

The sunlight had climbed high, a clear sign she’d overslept. Not that it was surprising. Lately, the exhaustion came in waves—pregnancy was starting to demand more rest from her.

She shifted slightly, her bump visible under the soft rise of his oversized T-shirt she’d claimed as sleepwear. Lewis smiled at that, too, how she’d taken so much of him as her own.

As Y/n stretched, blinking sleep from her eyes, she spotted Lewis there, looking all too pleased with himself, balancing that breakfast tray as if he’d been waiting an hour to make his grand entrance.

“Why, Sir. To what do I owe this royal breakfast treatment?” she asked, her voice still drowsy, as she raised an eyebrow playfully though she wore a faint smile.

“Oh, nothing much,” he said, setting the tray in front of her. But there was something about the way he lingered, how his eyes traced her face a bit longer than usual, and how his hand found its way to her bump, lightly brushing circles over her stomach.

She noticed it too, of course. Y/n’s gaze slid from him to the pancakes, to the bouquet of wildflowers he’d set down beside her. His hand was still there, fingers spreading, gentle against her skin.

She tucked into the pancakes, savoring the tart sweetness of the berries, though one eye was still on him. He was keeping quiet, which was unusual enough to make her pause, fork halfway to her mouth.

He didn’t speak, but his fingers had settled in, tracing softer circles on her tummy, as if trying to connect with their child through her skin.

“Alright, spill it, Hamilton,” she said at last, her eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion. She hadn’t missed the glances, the softer smiles, or how his usual self-assured charm was just a little off this morning.

He fumbled. Oh yes, THE Lewis Hamilton—six inches taller than everyone else when it came to confidence—stumbling on his words now as he looked back at her, gathering himself as if preparing to speak before a packed audience.

“It’s nothing. Really, I just…” he hesitated, clearing his throat. ���I just wanted to thank you. For yesterday. For coming to the factory with me.”

Ah, yes, the visit. Y/n had been there at his side all day, chatting with engineers and mechanics, giving them warm smiles, sometimes asking the kind of questions that endeared her to the team.

She’d been there, even though they both knew she’d been exhausted—he’d seen it in the way she leaned against surfaces or rested a hand on her bump when she thought he wasn’t looking.

But she’s the kind of person who’d walk the extra mile without a second thought if it meant making him feel grounded

“Oh” She waved it off. “I just know it’s important for you to have your support system there. Besides, we’ll leave you alone to those visits for a while, after this one gets here.” She gave him a smile, and it was enough to make Lewis sit back, humbled and deeply, thoroughly grateful.

Because that’s the thing about Y/n. She didn’t just say the right things. She showed up. She showed him, again and again, that he was worth it to her.

When he’d told her to leave, thinking he was noble, sacrificing himself for her own good, she’d thrown it right back at him. Said if he wanted her gone, he’d have to be a man and make it happen. He hadn’t. And in not doing it, he’d made a choice just as firmly as she had.

He reached out then, brushing his fingers on her cheek, his hand lingering for a moment, as if memorizing her face.

Y/n, ever observant, took his hand, resting it over hers. She could feel the weight of everything unsaid—how his grip was just a bit tighter, his thumb brushing her knuckles in slow circles. Her eyes softened, and for once, he allowed himself to drop the pretense.

“I know I’ve said it before,” he started, his voice quiet. “But I don’t think I can ever say it enough. I’m grateful. For you, for our little one. For everything.”

She let out a small laugh, rolling her eyes. “Lewis, you don’t need to go poetic on me. I’m not going anywhere.”

He chuckled, but even then, there was a solemnity in his expression, an echo of the worry that had lived with him since that fateful night years ago when he’d tried to push her out.

He leaned in close, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering just long enough to let her know he was serious.

They didn’t need words, not really. She knew, and he knew she knew.

That’s the magic they’d always shared. She didn’t need a grand speech to understand that in the way he carried her breakfast in, the way he’d brushed her cheek, he was telling her a thousand times over just how lucky he felt.

For Lewis, that single kiss said everything he couldn’t.

They sat there in quiet contentment, her finishing the last of her pancakes, his hand tracing that rhythmic pattern on her bump again, as if communicating with their little one in their secret code.

“Now” she said, breaking the silence as she watched him circling his fingers on her belly “I need you to go. This mama’s got work, and so do you, unless you plan on spending the rest of the day like this.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing” he said, flashing a mischievous grin.

But he stood regardless, though he couldn’t resist stealing one more kiss. Because that’s also the thing about Lewis—he’d had a brush with losing her once, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again.

So there he was, savoring the sight of her, engraving this moment into memory. After all, being wrong about her had been the best mistake of his life.

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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

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@hiireadstuff @f1-football-fiend

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[bringthekaos]

I'm excited for your thoughts on the new season if/when you share them

It has legit taken me 3 days to come to terms with Act 1. Enough to be able to speak about it. Gunna apologize in advance for the wall of text, and I’m hiding it under a break for spoiler reasons. Also prefacing with these are all just my opinions. All are free to disagree with me and RB with discussions/theories etc. just don’t be a dick about it, I’m not engaging in any discourse.

Ok. So. I have mixed feelings, and I’m aware that this is because I don’t have the whole story yet. So this is all contingent on how the rest of the season plays out.

First and foremost, I’m… wildly swinging back and forth between love and disappointment for Viktor’s arc. So first the negative, and I’ll try to keep it brief because a lot of people have already expressed this and I don’t need to be beating that particular dead horse.

Viktor has had his agency, his bodily autonomy, his original ideas and nearly everything that made him Viktor stripped away. Nothing so far has been his choice. And while this could have worked just fine for an original character, he wasn’t. So there is a massive disconnect between what this character was/should have been. In League, it was all his choice (albeit with a healthy dose of mental illness thrown in, but still). AND it was very heavily suggested that many of the augmentations he performed weren’t as extensive as he lead everyone to believe (namely the controlling/dousing of his emotions). But it appears that whatever the Hexcore did to him, it’s real. He is clearly having a difficult time accessing his emotions, and if he can feel anything, it is limited to the point of him being completely stoic. And the thing with stoic characters is that you obliterate any emotional payoff for the audience. It’s very hard to make an audience feel an emotional connection to a character’s story arc when they themselves don’t feel anything (I have a theory about this though, but I’ll address it a little later in this post). And then there is the issue of Blitzcrank. Blitz was Viktor’s whole world, after his exile. How are they going to swing that? Like, I’m not even asking for Blitz to be in Arcane (that would be great, but I really don’t think they have time). But I stg if they take Blitz away from Viktor, make them someone else’s invention (my suspicion is Heimer or he finds the idea in Sky’s journal)… I’m sorry but no. This was Viktor’s idea, Viktor’s genius. I will genuinely be extremely upset if they take that from him too.

Then there is the whole situation with Sky. First, this girl was fridged. She was nothing but a plot device and continues to be just that. It feels hollow and forced, especially now that he’s hallucinating her as some sort of penance for what he did. (I have seen the prevalent theory that it’s the Hexcore using her image and his guilt to manipulate him, given that it “ate” her, and we have seen it “manipulate” him before when it punished him for trying to destroy it). But back to Sky—he barely acknowledged that poor girl. The reason for that can be argued, whether it’s because he’s gay or because he was just so wrapped up in his one-track minded research. But regardless, there just wasn’t enough setup between those two for this whole thing to have as much weight and meaning as I think it’s supposed to. Honestly to me (TO ME) it reeks of comphet. It feels like that random woman they threw at Poe Dameron to No Homo him. I’m not even asking for Jayvik canon. But the creators were well aware of this ship, after all it’s the second most popular ship in this show and it’s been around since 2012 when Jayce was literally created for Viktor. I’m asking for the bare minimum here—that it’s left open-ended as it was in League, open for interpretation.

Last negative I have is the whole Viktor Jesus thing. The first problem is I am pretty violently agnostic, and messiah narratives have never spoken to me. I don’t enjoy them, they feel weak. The whole “ordained by a higher power” thing is just… stale. Especially when this character originally had no higher power, he gave it to himself through his own hard work and ingenuity. Honestly, Viktor’s original arc is about as far from a Jesus allegory as you can possibly get. And I am absolutely terrified that they’re going to end said Jesus arc the way you’d expect—with him dying for it. Which leaves the moral of his story “disabled man should have just accepted that he was going to die despite the fact that it was the oppression and xenophobia of Piltover that left him out to dry, without proper health care, accessibility, equality, or equity that lead to his terminal diagnosis to begin with.” Which is a very oppressor-centric narrative and we do not need another one of those.

Sorry, I know I said I’d keep the negatives brief, and that was… not. My bad. But moving on!

I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it, I did. I am working to embrace this new Viktor narrative and work it into my brain in a way that doesn’t ruin the ship for me. So without further ado, the positives.

Jayce.

Jayce.

Jayce.

I’d have to go back and time it, but it feels like he got more screen time in this first act than the entirety of the first season combined, and his character shined for it. It humanized him in ways season one never did. He’s caring, he’s devoted, and he loved Viktor! No matter what kind of love you think it is, it proves he loved Viktor without a doubt. He carried Viktor several city blocks to the lab to save him, and then YES, he broke his promise about the Hexcore because he couldn’t stand the thought of losing him!

And he’s funny! (The scene where he picks up the regular sized hammer in the fight against Renni and made that “this is ironic” face?? And then basically the entire interaction with Ekko? The hand me a tome thing, and then when he basically pulled this when Ekko suggested “so this is all your fault cuz you pissed off the Arcane”:

GOD that shit was great. Jayce’s personality just shined, and maybe it’s too much to hope, but maybe this will douse a little of the hate. Because instead of being a subtle hint at all of those things being true about him, it’s now overt. And when people lack media literacy, the hints have to be overt.

And th-the. The h. The HUG SCENE. I don’t think I will ever emotionally recover from that scene. Starting with Viktor who, despite being clearly emotionally—I dunno, vacant I guess—sounded so lost and scared when he said “what am I?” For me, it was whispers of that scene from The Last Unicorn: “what have you done to me?” And my poor sweet Jayce, who clearly hasn’t left this damn lab except to go to Cassandra’s memorial. Sleeping on the desk and bleeding through his bandages because he doesn’t want to spend a moment away from Viktor while he “recovers.” And his euphoric response when he finds Viktor alive, when he realizes he hasn’t lost him. And I OWE HIM AN APOLOGY, goddamn. I said in a post that “Jayce will not understand.” I thought that was how Arcane was gunna start the divorce. But Jayce genuinely did not care, as long as his lover friend was alive. And just… Jayce being so affectionate through this entire scene. The hug obviously, but also blurting things he thought he’d never get to say to Viktor—“I’m resigning from the council, my place was always here in the lab with you.”

And… the hug itself. I know we’re all analyzing it frame by goddamn frame, but I see exactly what everyone else sees—there is a moment where Viktor very subtly smiles. But it’s gone in an instant, and it turns bittersweet. LOOK AT HIM.

There is something there, it’s just buried. Deep beneath the surface. It seems to say “I want this, I have wanted this for so long.” But then he realizes something, something I don’t think we’re meant to understand yet. Maybe that he doesn’t feel anything about it anymore, and he recognizes that this should upset him and it doesn’t. Or perhaps it’s something more along the lines of “it’s too late.” Whatever it is, I think this is the exact moment he knows he has to walk away. Because he knows he’ll cave to the affection, he said it himself. (Which is another thing entirely. His voice changes when he says that. Something in him is reacting to that word. Maybe he’s fighting against it, or maybe he’s fighting to get it back. But something made him almost growl that word.)

Which leads me to my final thought (for this post anyway, cuz it’s turning into a novel); Viktor is still in there. He can still feel things, I just think they’re extremely muted by whatever the Hexcore did/continues to do to him, or he has to fight to express them. Because he also smiled at the hallucination of Sky after he “cured” Huck. And if he feels nothing, he wouldn’t have been “joyous” at the thought of her being proud of him, approving of the good things he’s trying to do in her memory. He wouldn’t crave that validation, that vindication from her. So I’m hopeful that we start to see this shell crack a little, especially if those visions of Sky are the Hexcore manipulating him through guilt. It will start to erode him, no matter how stoic he has become. And literally the only thing I’m clinging to is that Jayce will see this and try to pull him out. “He’s still in there and I have to save him.” And that maybe it’ll start to work.

[tojisun]

sugar, spice, everything on ice (hockey au) - camgirl edi!

smut - voyeurism, porn watching, sharing, ambiguous ending; again, this is a non-canon part of sseoi! also ik this scenario is unrealistic but read for the vibes!!!

obsessed with this previous part posted, and can’t stop thinking about how the boys used to chirp at simon for calling his fave cam girl his girl, only for it to end there, anyway.

how johnny was the first to find out when he caught simon listening to your stream like it’s a fucking podcast while he was taping his stick.

it was still too early in the morning for practice, but simon had been out with a minor lower injury and no one was really shocked that he’s the first in the rink when he got his permission from their physio. it was nice to see their A excited to get back on ice because truthfully? they needed him back. the team wasn’t straggling by any means but there’s an obvious difference with simon out which was why johnny found himself just as excited when simon told the group chat the good news, bounding in early for the morning skate too.

there were soft murmurs slipping past the cracked door when he made his way, and johnny pushed through the entrance, expecting maybe someone else with riley — maybe their captain or their coach — but it’s just their A.

and his phone, at full volume and full brightness, showcasing a… porn?

amateur porn, from the looks of it.

“uh?” was all johnny could say.

simon looked up, not even really appearing to be mortified that johnny just walked in on him watching a porn live-stream; the healthy sheen on his face did not even break for an embarrassed blush and, really, johnny started wondering if there was something he was missing.

“hey, mate,” simon greeted, still unaffected and screw it, johnny decided to ignore the wet squelch coming from the phone to reach forward and clap his arms around his friend.

“good to see ye back, man,” johnny said, chuckling. simon rumbled a quiet laugh too, looking pretty pleased and at peace like there’s no raunchy moans rumbling from his speakers—

you know what? fuck it.

“so you pent up in a different way, or?” johnny asked, nodding at the phone.

simon blinked, brows wrinkling in confusion for a second, before clarity washed over him, so obvious that johnny could track the moment he remembered what he had been listening to before johnny walked in.

“oh,” he huffed, shoulders shaking in another burst of quiet chuckles. “y’ve got to see ‘er. fuckin’ beautiful, this one.”

that… was not what johnny expected but he dropped on the cubicle beside simon to peek at his screen. apparently, he glanced at the right time as he watched the way your cunt stretched around the girth of your vibrator, made of glass, and the image you made was so startlingly lewd that johnny couldn’t even help groaning in appreciation too.

simon grins with something akin to pride, like he was telling johnny, “see? what’d i tell you?”

johnny would forget about that day until simon’s blunder of using his public account to blast his feelings for you, his clearly-not-just-pure feelings, made national news. their poor PR and media intern were working overtime to fix simon’s mistake because of course simon did not stop at just retweeting your website’s link while professing how he’s never cum so hard for anyone. no, he had to take it a little farther — he mass liked about fifty posts that you have made in two months time in the span of the three hours since they’ve flown back from tampa.

it was hell; apparently his profile was so thoroughly linked to your own with how active he was within those three hours of liking everything he could, that they suggested he just delete his profile and start anew. johnny doubted he was going to, what with his brand deals and other things, but then you poked back at simon and simon was so enamoured that he just took off the rails and flirted with you publicly.

he was unbelievable. simon was horny and yearning — a weird mix, but one that… worked, apparently, because here you are now, standing before them, all pretty and breathtaking.

johnny can’t even deny that he’s not distracted because, well, because they’ve seen you.

naked.

and getting fucked to the point of snot and tears.

fuck, this was not an easy meet-and-greet.

.

it was difficult to not cross the line when chirping at simon about his new relationship but garrick had been firm with his reminder, staring them down with that downturned tilt of his lips that spoke of no-nonsense. and no one ever wants to disappoint their captain so they steered clear of the obvious, like the fact that they all, at one point, watched your videos because simon just wouldn’t shut up about you. he was damn near close to waxing poetry which would have been cute if, you know, simon did not sound like a pervert who’s clearly whipped for a stranger.

it was funny then. it’s downright petrifying now.

they know more about you than they wished they did, like the fact that your go-to toy when the ejaculating dragon one is in the ‘wash’ is that vibrating dildo that is probably half the girth of johnny’s arm which is to say that it’s fucking thick, but still, you were able to bully all of that in your pussy, whining and mewling, before fucking down on it so hard it was bulging out of the soft pudge of your belly. or how you like having your nipples clamped. or how you have such a thing for oral stuff that you’d deepthroat a dildo while bouncing on another one.

it was a whiplash, going from watching you touch yourself in ways unfathomable to seeing you in front of them, giggling as you and simon share quiet conversations like they’re some sacred things.

fuck.

not even kyle, with his big announcement, could fake normalcy because you were a locker room name. they’ve all recommended different videos to each other — hell, all of them are still in that group chat they made to share links with each other. sure, simon had created it but no one really put it to rest — messages like, “she got anything in [x] cosplay?” or, “saw a short clip of her rubbing her pussy on her washing machine in twitter, does anyone have the full ver?” were getting passed around.

you were the darling girl of the team, and now simon’s got you cuffed.

it was easy to pinpoint the source of tension — the guys want a taste.

johnny stares at you and simon, and the secretive little smiles and heated looks that the two of you are sharing with each other, and realizes that maybe, just maybe, they are allowed it.

[torasplanet]

been thinking a lot about frat!toman and being their sweetheart. i have many ideas but the one stuck on me is when they all just can't get enough of you! they all share but it's getting to a point where they're damn near ready to go through a barbaric war for you.

mikey, the frat prez, would treat you like an absolute princess like the most of them but with him you really are. he can do what he wants and say what he wants meaning you get whatever you want but he doesn't particularly enjoy it when you get mouthy. nobody else does either.

the only one who really seems to like it is nahoya, it really gets him going when you tell everyone how it is and make demands. what else gets him going is when he gets you to shut all that shit up. it's funny to him almost. you get a little bit of dick and everything you tried to stand on matters much less than before, in fact you've forgotten about it.

mitsuya is such a sweetheart when it comes to the frat sweetheart. he treats you like fine china, of course he has his moments but he's nowhere as rough as some of the others can be...he's your favorite, for a reason.

draken is also a nice one but don't get him wrong, he's very quick to snap you back into place if you're being too much of a...brat, he'd say. he's also king of casual dominance. he's sort of a mitsuya mixed with a baji. he'll always make sure you're okay while he's treating you and whatever you call that nasty thing between your thighs like nothing but a cumdump.

speaking of him, baji is such a tease. he's mean, to say the least. he likes to show you off, he's not scared of people knowing about the situation going on the frat. in his words, most people already think frat sweethearts get fucked like you. he can be nice, he's a gentleman of course but most of the time, he is such a meanie !!

however, this doesn't make him the meanest. chifuyu, whether you believe it or not, can be pretty fucking mean. he's such a sweetie, he loves you and adores you yet when you get him upset, he's torturing your poor clit for hours to the point you wish that nahoya was the one pissed off !! don't even get me started on how filthy his mouth will get...

kazutora is the real sweetheart though, him and souya both. kazutora is always so gentle with you, he takes you out on dates and treats you before he even thinks about getting between your legs. speaking of, he is a real eater !! he can cum just from eating you out and then he's satisfied for the day. but with the way he likes to cum, you'll be getting eaten out until kazutora has to get rid of his pants because of how much he stained them.

souya by far has to be the best gentleman. he waited so long to fuck you, he knew you were sore from the recent relationships in the frat and he wanted you to really feel him and everything he has to offer. he still does the same. he refuses to fuck you if someone else already had soon before him, the most he'll do is foreplay and enough to make you cum untouched. he hates seeing your pretty pussy all spoiled with someone else's cum!! all he wants is to stare at how his cum is so sheer spread all over your thighs and cunt.

but what they all fight about is who gets to do your aftercare and taking you out. as much as they love seeing you all fucked out, they love seeing that sweet smile when they give you a surprise date. the toman frat boys simply adore you !!

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

[fratttymatty]

Conerdative

(All characters are 18+)

Theo Montgomery had always been a bit of an outsider. At 18, he was an unapologetic liberal, proudly gay, and content with his status as a loner. He wasn’t the most athletic, and he didn’t hang out with the popular crowd—mostly because they made him feel like he was speaking a foreign language whenever he tried to join in. He had his few close friends, all of whom shared his views on the world. They had long conversations about politics, pop culture, and everything in between, tucked away in the quiet corners of the school library or at the local coffee shop.

But despite the friends he had, he often felt like he didn’t fit in—like he was on the outside looking in.

That all changed one afternoon after school when he wandered into the old, unused janitor's closet in the back of the school. He was supposed to meet his friend Jace there to discuss some protest plans, but Jace had bailed last minute, leaving Theo to amuse himself with whatever he could find.

As he was about to leave, something caught his eye—a dusty, ornate mirror standing at the back of the closet, framed in black and gold. It looked like it didn’t belong. Curiosity got the better of him. He reached out and touched the cold glass. The moment his fingers made contact, the room around him flickered, and for a brief moment, everything went white. Then it was gone.

When the blinding light faded, Theo blinked, disoriented, and stared at his reflection.

He wasn’t looking at the familiar face he knew.

His skin was a few shades darker, smooth and perfectly tanned. His hair, once a messy brown mop, was now thick, perfectly styled, and just the right amount of tousled. His jawline was sharply defined, and his eyes—green, like emeralds—shone with an almost unnatural intensity. He was taller, broader, with muscles that looked like they'd been carved by a sculptor.

He couldn’t help it—he ran a hand through his hair and flexed his biceps. His reflection was, well… hot. He looked like a walking, talking dreamboat.

And then, he noticed something else. The clothes he was wearing—his old, faded band t-shirt and ripped jeans—had been replaced with a sleek, tailored suit, complete with a crisp, white shirt and dark, fashionable glasses perched on his nose.

He wasn’t just different physically—he was different in every way. He felt... more confident. More sure of himself. More straight in a way he never had been before. The liberal, gay Theo Montgomery he once was felt like a distant memory. It was like he’d stepped into someone else's shoes, someone who was on top of the world—someone popular, someone who got all the attention.

For a moment, panic flared. What had happened to him? How had this change come about? But as the minutes passed, he realized something: he didn’t want to change back. This new him felt right.

He took one last look in the mirror, adjusting his glasses with a smirk.

"Who are you?" he whispered. But before he could answer himself, a voice broke through the fog of his thoughts.

“Whoa. Theo? Is that really you?”

Theo spun around to see none other than Madison Hayes, the ditzy cheerleader who had always brushed past him like he was invisible.

She stopped in her tracks, her eyes going wide as she took in his new appearance. She blinked, then took a slow, deliberate step closer, her lips curving into a smile.

“Okay, wow. I don’t know what happened, but you look... hot.” Madison giggled, her voice a mix of surprise and flirtation.

Theo felt his heart race for a moment, but not from the usual nervousness he might have felt. No, it was a rush of something else—a thrill, a sense of power. He flashed a confident smile, adjusting his glasses like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I guess you could say I had a... makeover.” He raised an eyebrow, noticing her gaze linger on him for just a moment too long.

“More like a total upgrade,” she said, her tone breathy and playful, a hint of admiration in her voice. “I mean, I always thought you were kinda cute before, but now... you’re like, perfect. What happened?”

Theo smirked, running his hand through his hair again. “Just a little... magic, I guess.”

Madison giggled again, clearly swept up in his charm. “Well, if you’re not doing anything later, maybe you could, like, hang out? I’m sure everyone would love to get to know you now.”

Theo didn’t miss the way her eyes sparkled with interest, or the fact that she was giving him her full attention, something she’d never done before. He knew he could have turned her down—he could’ve stayed in his old self, the quiet, sarcastic Theo who was content being the odd one out. But for the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to. This new version of himself felt... right.

And why not enjoy the perks?

“Sure,” Theo said with a grin, suddenly feeling more like the confident, popular guy he’d always secretly wished he could be. “I’d love to.”

Over the next few weeks, Theo, now going by the name Zane Knight, fully embraced his new identity. "Zane Knight" sounded perfect—strong, sharp, mysterious. He even got a new wardrobe to match, ditching his old, ragged clothes for sleek, fashionable pieces that showed off his muscular build. He was no longer the shy, self-conscious kid who sat at the back of the class with his nose in books. He was the guy everyone noticed.

Madison, the ditzy cheerleader, became his unofficial “girl next door.” She was always around now, giggling at his jokes, leaning on him during lunch, and even inviting him to sit with her popular crowd. She was sweet in her own way, but her priorities were simple—cheerleading, partying, and looking cute. Zane didn’t mind. She was a nice distraction, and truth be told, he kind of liked how easy it was to charm her. She wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but she loved his new, confident vibe.

The girls? They loved him. Vanessa, the head cheerleader, was often seen hanging around Zane after school, offering him a flirtatious smile whenever they crossed paths. Even Emily, the quiet bookworm from history class, started leaving little notes for him in his locker. They all wanted a piece of him, and Zane—who had once been the outsider—was now the one everyone wanted to be around. The other guys in school—jocks, nerds, and even the band geeks—looked to him for advice, for laughs, for anything.

Zane didn’t have to try. He was just... Zane Knight.

And somewhere deep down, he knew he would never go back. The old Theo Montgomery—the liberal, gay, sarcastic loner—was a shadow. The new Zane Knight was the center of everything. And he was loving it.

Life was better this way.

It had been a few weeks since Zane Knight had stepped into his new life, and it was quickly becoming clear that not only had his appearance changed, but his entire worldview had shifted as well. He had embraced his new persona—confident, popular, and far more conservative than he'd ever imagined he'd become. And nowhere was that more apparent than in his American Government class.

It was a Tuesday, and Zane sat at the front of the class, looking sharp in a tailored blazer and dark jeans, his glasses perched perfectly on his nose. The room was buzzing with energy as Mr. Johnson, the teacher, opened the floor to a debate on current political ideologies.

“You all know the drill,” Mr. Johnson said, his arms crossed over his chest. “Liberal versus conservative views. Who wants to start?”

Zane leaned back in his chair, watching the usual suspects raise their hands. But he wasn’t just going to sit back and listen. He could feel the growing tension in the air—the need to speak his mind, to show everyone just how much he'd changed, how much he'd grown in this new life. And now that he was the center of attention, he wasn’t going to let the chance slip by.

Madison, sitting next to him, leaned in and whispered, "You’ve got this, Zane. Show ‘em how it’s done."

Zane grinned at her and straightened up in his seat, clearing his throat. The room went quiet as he stood, his movements smooth, his confidence radiating.

“Alright, let’s be real here,” Zane began, his voice calm but firm. “The left has this idea that everything should be handed to people, that government should step in and take care of everyone. But that’s not how the world works. You want to help people? You don’t do it by coddling them. You teach them to stand on their own two feet, to work hard for what they want. The government shouldn’t be the safety net—it should be the trampoline that helps you jump higher, not a cushion to catch you every time you fall.”

A murmur spread through the classroom. Some students nodded; others scoffed. Zane wasn’t bothered. He was in his element.

“Look at welfare,” Zane continued, a smirk tugging at his lips. “It’s meant to help people who are down on their luck, sure. But it’s turned into a system that rewards laziness. Why work if you can get a free handout? Conservatives believe in personal responsibility, in self-reliance. You don’t get ahead by relying on others to bail you out. You get ahead by working your ass off, by taking risks and putting in the hours. That’s what made this country great. Hard work and ambition, not sitting around waiting for the government to fix your problems.”

There was a pause, and Zane could see the reactions across the room. Some students were staring at him wide-eyed, as if they couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. But there were others—like Madison—who were practically glowing with admiration.

Madison raised her hand, eagerly waiting to add her two cents. Zane flashed her a quick smile before turning back to the class.

“And don’t even get me started on this whole ‘identity politics’ nonsense,” Zane continued, his tone now turning more pointed. “People need to stop blaming their problems on their race, gender, or sexual orientation. Life isn’t fair, sure, but that doesn’t mean you get to play the victim card every time things don’t go your way. In a truly free society, we should be judged on our abilities and character, not our identity. And honestly, if you want equality, stop demanding special treatment for everyone who’s different. We’re all equal under the law, and that’s where it should end. If you’re good at what you do, you’ll make it. Simple as that.”

The room grew tense, and a few gasps were heard. The left-leaning students—who once might have been his allies in his previous life—looked taken aback, some of them even angry. But Zane felt no fear. No doubt. This was who he was now. This was his truth.

“I’m not saying there isn’t room for compassion or helping those who truly need it,” he added, raising his hands in a gesture of balance. “But there’s a difference between helping someone up and keeping them dependent. You want change? You go out and make it happen yourself.”

Mr. Johnson, the teacher, cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Alright, Zane, that’s quite a perspective. Anyone want to challenge his views?”

A few hands went up, but Zane wasn’t done yet. He wasn’t finished making his point. He felt invigorated by the debate, like he was finally in a place where his opinions mattered.

Before anyone could speak, Zane raised his hand and, with a small but confident smile, continued. “One more thing—this obsession with ‘safe spaces’ and ‘trigger warnings’ is another example of the left trying to create a bubble where no one has to deal with the real world. Life is hard. People are rude. They’re going to disagree with you, and sometimes, they’re going to say things that make you uncomfortable. But guess what? That’s life. You can’t go through it avoiding every harsh word. We need to toughen up and face challenges head-on, not hide in our little safe spaces and pretend the world is always kind.”

He let that sink in, feeling the weight of his words in the quiet that followed. But then, just as the class seemed to settle, Zane casually added, almost as an afterthought, “And, honestly, I get that people want to be true to who they are and all, but—" He glanced around, noticing Derek, the openly gay sophomore from the drama club sitting at the back of the class, looking at him expectantly. "—does anyone else think it’s a little... weird when people make their sexuality their whole personality? Like, why do you need to wear it on your sleeve, all the time? I mean, it’s not like I walk around with a ‘straight pride’ badge on my chest.”

The classroom fell silent for a moment.

Zane’s words lingered in the air, heavy and brash. Some students shifted in their seats, looking around, unsure if they should react. But Madison, always quick to defend him, laughed lightly and nudged him with her elbow.

“Ugh, Zane, you’re so right. It’s like, just live your life, you know? Who cares about the labels?”

Zane just shrugged, unbothered. “Exactly. If you’re truly equal, then stop acting like your identity is everything. It’s just a part of who you are, not the whole damn story.”

Derek, who had been the target of Zane's comment, looked uncomfortable but didn't say anything. He shuffled in his seat and avoided making eye contact. Zane, however, didn't even acknowledge him, his confidence surging as the class began to murmur their agreement.

“Anyway, like I said, life isn’t perfect,” Zane continued, picking up right where he left off. “But it’s up to each of us to make something of it. No one’s gonna give you a free pass just because you’ve got a cause or a label.”

Mr. Johnson stepped forward to regain control of the discussion, but Zane had already taken the room. The conservative students seemed to be nodding along, and even some of the more liberal ones were silent, unsure how to respond. The truth was, Zane’s popularity, his sharp confidence, and his undeniable charm made it impossible for anyone to criticize him, even when he made statements that—back in his old life—would’ve been seen as offensive.

Madison, still smiling, leaned over to him. “Zane, you really just told them like it is. No one else would’ve said that, for sure.”

Zane smirked. “That’s because no one else has the guts.”

The class continued, but Zane didn’t care about the debate anymore. He had made his point, and more importantly, he had solidified his place at the top. No one cared about his past anymore—least of all, Derek.

In this new world, Zane Knight was untouchable.

[ram-bles]

HELLOOOO

I got a silly little ask, just a drabble from you would be fine 😁

Like- the reader (gender neutral) wasn't very open about their hobbies and such. One of their hobbies was like martial arts or smth (THIS IS VERY CRUCIAL ☝️☝️☝️)

Wellll, one day Jimmy (🤮) decided to try and touch the reader inappropriately and they just throw him over their shoulder saying something along the lines of "Do NOT touch me."

I KNOW IT'S CRINGE BUT PLEASEEEE, IT WOULD BE SO FUNNY 🙏🙏🙏🙏

I saw you're writing for only Curly and Daisuke, but if you wanna you can add other characters into the mix. It's all platonic, just a silly little ask cuz I wanna laugh 😁😁😁

[ Tulpar Crew & Reader ]

Oh I love this one. Also this reminded me to update my list thank u 4 unintentionally reminding me anon.,.,. ALSO DONT WORRY I DONT THINK IT'S CRINGE !

gender neutral reader, it gets silly later on i promise. not proof-read. wrote this really quick.

⚠️ tw: stalking, jimmy being a little too forward and close

The day was pretty much mundane, like always. Everyone was in their designated work stations, including you of course. Though, something felt off. It had been like this for the past week, and you hated it. You even blamed your lack of sleep for it. It seemed like there was something— someone, watching and following you when you were alone.

One time, you'd even woken up to the sound of your quarter's door closing. You stayed up all night, not wanting to inconvenience the other crew members for what you think might just be all in your head. Well, that is until psych evaluation day came and you opened up about this to Anya who so easily believed you, but seemed so uncomfortable with the topic. You decided not to pry out of respect. She offers her company when you need it.

That same night, Daisuke offered to host a game session to which everyone reluctantly agreed to.

Establishing good bonds between workers is key to an efficient working environment!

Anya, Swansea and Daisuke were sitting by the sofa, Curly dragged a chair just beside the game table, whilst you and Jimmy sat beside each other on the floor. The game involved four players and the crew decided that whoever loses first has to swap with whoever hasn't played yet for the next rounds. The game was getting heated, Daisuke and Anya, neck on neck. Unfortunately, not the only thing neck on neck. Everyone else was too focused on the game to even notice what Jimmy was doing. You can feel his breath against your skin. You eyed the others in hopes that they would see. Too busy. Annoyed and grossed out, you elbowed his ribs in warning, glaring at him. "Jimmy, don't touch me." He seems pissed, but that doesn't deter him from getting his entertainment. Jimmy presses on and you swear you felt your eyebrows twitch. The balls of this guy to even do this here.

Daisuke throws the dice, the three leans in in anticipation as they watch it slowly roll to a stop and—

CRASH!

Some game pieces flew in different directions, two table legs snapping from the force and Jimmy's weight. It was radio silent for a moment. The crew having different variations of shocked expressions. You had grabbed his arm and flipped his body onto the furniture.

"Fuckin' pervert. Are you deaf, or what? I said do NOT touch me."

Daisuke threw his hands up in the air and settled it on each side of his head, frustrated. "Oh, come on, man! I was so close to winni—!" His whining ceases when Swansea nudges him, instantly shutting up and processing what had just happened. It took a few blinks for him to register and he eventually bursts out laughing and pointing at Jimmy. It took everything from Swansea not to burst out laughing as well. Instead, he crosses his arms and huffs with a proud smile. 'Atta' kid.'

Anya on the other hand slips out a gasp, covering her mouth. Mostly out of shock, and no sympathy for the man whatsoever. When the other intern started laughing, she had to bite her lip and look away to suppress her own fit.

[ History of glenohumeral joint subluxation.

It happened way too fast for Jimmy to even process what just happened. He spits out something hard, probably a tooth. His shoulder slightly stings as well, probably dislocated. He'll get back at you some other time, he can't get back at you when everyone else is here and that pisses him off even more.

Curly had mixed feelings. But of course, he prioritizes his role and he has to mediate everything first and foremost. Rubbing his face, he sighs and stands up, putting his hands on his hips. He calls your name and you tilted your head to look up at him. "I have to discuss... this with you later on. Please drop by the cockpit, yeah?" You roll your eyes and nod, pouting. "Swansea, could we borrow your intern real quick?"

"Shift's over, go ahead."

He gives the eldest a nod. "Daisuke, please assist Anya. Help her bring Jimmy to medical."

"Youuuuu got it, Big C." He finger guns towards the captain then stands up to hover over the co-pilot. Curly could only give Daisuke an awkward smile at the nickname.

"Never call him that again."

"El Capitano." Daisuke helps Jimmy up, making sure he's pulling them up by the injured arm, making the man grit his teeth and groan in pain. Before the guy could even cuss at the intern, Swansea continued bickering.

"Do your damn job."

"Yessir. Swansir."

Anya and Daisuke finally went off the bring the poor injured co-pilot to treat him. And if you'd like to know, Anya taught Daisuke how to pull Jimmy's shoulder back to place. Yes, everyone heard him when it happened.

You helped Swansea clean up the mess by the lounge and in apology, offered to help repair the table the next day. He agrees and even offers Daisuke to assist you.

Curly had to lightly reprimand you for your actions, but you'd explained to him what happened. The best he could do for you for now is lie on the report.

Sustained through occupational accident.

Employee confirmed inebriated while working.

Property damage docked to Jimmy.]

[strnilolover]

Masquerade Ball …

(this is in second person <3)

The palace was alive with excitement on the night of the masquerade ball. Nobles from neighboring countries, prestigious guests, and even members of the royal family’s inner circle had come to celebrate under the grand chandeliers and golden arches of the ballroom. As the evening approached, the palace was bustling with preparations, every servant and maid in a frenzy to ensure every detail was perfect.

In Matt’s bedroom, you were carefully fastening his collar, adjusting the dark, elegant fabric of his suit. Your fingers worked delicately, your heart racing slightly as you stood so close to him, feeling the warmth of his presence.

“Thank you,” Matt murmured, his gaze fixed on you with that soft intensity you’d come to know well. His mask lay on the table, a sleek design in dark hues that matched his attire, leaving his eyes just visible beneath it.

You glanced up at him, managing a shy smile. “Is there anything else you need matt?” you asked, your hands dropping from his collar to rest at your sides.

He shook his head, smiling faintly — but he quickly changed his mind. “Actually, yes. I have a surprise for you.” His voice was warm, teasing, with a glimmer of excitement that caught you off guard.

You raised an eyebrow, confused but intrigued. “A surprise?” you whispered. He nodded, gesturing toward the adjoining door that led to his private bathroom. “In there. Go on.”

You looked at matt for a moment before turning your gaze back to the bathroom door. You took a hesitant step forward, but then fully walked forward. You hand grabbed the handle, turning it before pushing the door open.

When Matt told you to check the bathroom for a surprise, you hadn’t expected anything close to this. You held your breath as you entered his bathroom and found a gown — a stunning dress in purple and gold, shimmering with delicate jewels that caught the light. There was a matching mask, adorned with lace and gems, lying beside was a handwritten note — in no other than matt’s handwriting himself.

Wear this tonight. For me. Join me at the ball.

Your heart raced, disbelief mixed with a thrill that made your hands tremble as you picked up the gown. You whispered to herself, “This is risky. This is more than risky. What will everyone think?”

Up until now, your relationship with Matt had been limited to hidden glances and whispered words, secret meetings and moments stolen in the quiet corridors of the palace. But this? Going to the masquerade ball, dressed up as a guest? It was a bold step, and it made you nervous.

Even though your face would be covered — that no one would know it was you, made it more exciting. But you couldn’t help the way your skin pricked with uncertainty — what if someone did recognize you? you weren’t supposed to be seen with the prince in that way.

But Matt had asked you to be there. He had thought of you, arranged this beautiful gown just for you, and left you a note as if you were the most important person in his world. You’d always watched the masquerade balls from the sidelines, helping set the table or serving drinks to the guests, never imagining you could be one of them. The idea was exhilarating.

You slipped into the gown, your hands smoothing the fabric as you looked at yourself in the mirror. It felt strange, being on the other side of things — dressed up as someone who belonged at the ball, as though you weren’t just a maid but an equal. The mask settled snugly over your face, hiding your identity just enough that it gave you a small rush of confidence.

“Just for tonight,” you whispered to yourself, smoothing your skirt. “I’ll be someone else.”

When you entered the ballroom, your breath caught. The chandeliers sparkled above, casting a golden glow over the crowd of masked guests twirling on the dance floor. You’d never seen it from this perspective, never felt the music sweep your away as a guest rather than a servant. It was magical, and though you knew the risk, a part of you relished the chance to feel like you belonged here, if only for a night.

Almost instinctively, your eyes scanned the room, searching for him. You felt like an imposter, someone pretending to be part of this world, apart of matt’s world that you didn’t know how to really fit into well. But, you felt as if maybe seeing matt might make you feel better.

Your eyes scanned the room, searching for a long moment. There were lots of people — ladies dressed in beautiful gowns and men dressed in sleek outfits and ties. But then, through the crowd, you spotted him.

He was talking with a group of nobles, his mask obscuring part of his face but leaving his intense gaze visible, a gaze that lifted and locked on you the moment you saw him. His eyes widened briefly, his lips curving into a faint smile. In that instant, you knew he’d been waiting for you.

Unable to help yourself, you moved through the crowd toward him. His own feet carrying himself to meet you halfway, his eyes never leaving yours as he took your hand, his fingers warm and steady against your own.

“You came,” he murmured, his voice soft with amazement, his gaze sweeping over you. “And you look… absolutely stunning darling.” he held your hand up, encouraging you to spin — and you did, giggling slightly.

You smiled when you came to a stop, you cheeks warming beneath the mask. “I… I wasn’t sure if I should. I mean, I’m not…” you trailed off, glancing around nervously. “I’m not supposed to be here, not like this.”

He squeezed your hand gently, pulling you closer, his expression soft. “Tonight, you belong here just as much as anyone else,” he murmured. “And I wanted you to see yourself this way. You’re not just my maid. You’re so much more.”

Your heart fluttered, and you looked up at him, your voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t believe I’m here, dressed up, actually… part of the ball. I’ve only ever seen it from the other side, watching everyone else have this life.” you admitted.

He smiled, leaning close as his voice dropped to a quiet murmur. “Well, tonight, I want to watch you enjoy it. I want you to see yourself as I see you.” and he pulled back, grinning — his blue eyes stood out under his mask, it made you breathless.

Before you could respond, he took your hand, guiding you onto the dance floor. The music swelled around you as he pulled you close, his hand firm at your waist, his eyes never leaving your own. You felt your worries start to melt away as you moved together, and for the first time, you let herself sink into the moment, letting yourself feel as though you belonged there in his arms — among all these people.

You danced until your heart was pounding, your cheeks warm with exhilaration, every touch and every glance between you two felt suffocating and filled with an unspoken longing. When the music slowed, matt leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Come with me,” he whispered, his voice low and rough.

He took your hand, quickly leading you off the dance floor and down a quiet corridor away from the crowd. Your heart raced, anticipation tingling through you as he pulled you into a dimly lit corner, where the sounds of the ball faded into the background.

You were alone, hidden in the shadows, and he turned to face you, his eyes dark and intense as he took both of your hands in his. “You have no idea how stunning you look darling — how hard it was to not let myself get carried away in there..” he whispered.

Your breath caught, and you felt a nervous thrill as you looked up at him, your own voice a whisper. “It felt strange… being here like this. Like I was part of your world, even though I’m not.”

He shook his head, reaching up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “You are part of my world,” he said softly. “You’re the part that makes it feel like home.”

Before you could reply, he leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours before meeting you in a kiss that was soft but filled with a quiet urgency. You melted into him, your hands resting against his chest as his unoccupied hand rested against your hip — pushing you up against the wall. The kiss was sweet but urgent — quickly turning heated, but it didn’t get too far.

When you finally pulled apart — your breath coming in short pants, he rested his forehead against yours, his fingers still tracing gentle patterns on your cheek. “I want more nights like this,” he murmured, his voice a gentle plea. “I don’t want to have to hide it. I want you by my side, every day, just like this.”

You looked up at him, your eyes shining, voice barely a whisper. “Then let’s have tonight. Just this moment.”

He smiled, brushing another kiss to your lips, and for the rest of the night, you decided to stay hidden in the shadows — forgetting all about the ball and matt’s duties as prince. Letting yourselves believe that, for just a little while, you could have a life together, free from rules and expectations.

© strnilolover

[tmntxthings]

一∑From the Start・゜・。

author’s notes: scurries in from the darkness, throws this > 💣 < out into the light, and runs back for cover 💥

warnings: unedited, angst, drabble, unrequited love, pining, daydreams, cliffhanger

—————————————————————————

When Leo invited you down to the lair to hang out, you had thought maybe it would be a movie thing. Or perhaps even going to the ramp room, chatting while he practiced skateboarding tricks that almost always ended badly with bruises. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he had dragged you into the kitchen to whip up something to eat or just snack on whatever the two of you could find.

But no, instead, he led you to his room, with a skip in his step. When you questioned why it had to be just the two of you. Why all of his brothers were rolling their eyes in Leo’s direction. He just shook his head, “I can’t tell anyone else! You’re the only one I can trust!” It was then, that you had a sinking feeling.

This scenario had happened before. Many times actually. You glanced back at the bros, exasperated already and you hadn’t even heard anything yet. But you knew.

Once in his room, Leo let go of you, and jumped face first into his bed. He let out a dramatic screech, kicking to boot before he turned to the ceiling and announced, “I’ve got a crush,”

You held back a sigh as you walked over to the only chair in his room. Pulled it out from under the desk, and sat, getting ready for the long haul. “Who and how?”

He really hadn’t even needed the question. He was off to the races explaining exactly how he had met ~them~ and all the moments after, from whence his heart first skipped a beat, the beauty that they hold, how they laugh at all his jokes. Your eyes clouded over.

This was pure torture. As your eyes unfocused, you let your train of thought wander away from Leo’s babbling fancies. Truly you’d lost count of how many times this had happened before. It was always the same things that made his heart flutter. That made him go crazy, so much so, that he’d tire out his brothers from all the lovesick shenanigans and bring you into the mix.

Which was like listening to chalk squeak against a chalkboard. Shrill and grating. If you didn’t tune it out, you’d go crazy yourself. Because it was despicable to listen to your own crush, talk about how much they wanted someone else.

For a second, you could just blink, look over at him, and pretend he wasn’t saying anything of consequence. “Blah blah blah,” his mouth moved, but you weren’t listening. That was better. It was unfair how pretty he could be. Especially when he was happy, especially when he was falling hard. The way he smiled, how his eyes shined. His hands couldn’t stop moving, he just had to animate with his whole body about how he felt. Your knee started to bounce. He was being cruel and he didn’t even realize it.

It wasn’t fair. But then again, how would he ever know unless you told him? You imagined what it would be like. To interrupt him. To confess your love. He’d probably laugh in your face. Ha what a great joke Y/n, now get real and back to my love crisis. That’s what he’d say. Or something along the lines of it.

But sometimes you could imagine him pausing completely. Getting taken so off guard that he no longer had the words to respond. That maybe he’d look at you with a different light. So maybe that was why you did it. On the off chance that, maybe, Leo had always harbored something for you too. Just deep down! So deep that he felt the need to hide it with all of these other so called crushes.

“Leo!”

He blinked and sat up from where he had been laying, interrupting his tangent.

“What?!”

Straightforward. That would be the best route.

“I like you.” Your eyes were steady, yet your heart raced. It was thundering in your chest as you watched one of his brow bones raise.

“I like you too Y/n” he said so as if it was obvious. Which meant he was misunderstanding.

“No no, not like that. I like you.” You strained with the emphasis as you willed his thick skull to understand. And it must’ve gotten through because his eyes widened just a bit.

“You like me?” He questioned, sitting up even straighter than before. Now you had his attention. And you could feel sweat building up in your palms as you nodded seriously.

“But, we’re best friends..” and you could’ve let that shoot you down. But you continued on. Getting up from your spot, from the single chair, and making your way over to him. Despite how every step made you second guess yourself. Despite thinking maybe it was a better idea to just run out of his room. Or to just settle for the friendship you thought you had wanted.

But you pushed through it all as you sat down next to him. “We are. You’re my best friend Leo. And I, maybe I’m greedy, but I can’t help it. I’ve liked you for so long now. And I don’t think I can just sit idly by anymore.”

You took a breath, palms closing into fists. Eyes closing because if he was going to reject you, it’d be better to not see the pity on his face. You piped up once more before he could say anything, “Every time you talk about your crushes, I can’t help but think, but wish, that it were me! And every time you get over one, I get ahead of myself, I hope that maybe, one day, you’ll look at me differently!”

There was so much you could say. So many different ways to say it. But that was the gist. “That… you’ll like me like that. That you’ll return the feelings I’ve felt for you,” you blew out a breath. Then looked into his eyes.

Leo was rarely ever serious but he was now. “I never knew…” he said softly after a moment of silence. Of taking in all that you had revealed. You nodded not knowing what that meant for your relationship with him now. And the fear of losing him forever leaked onto your face. His eyes softened, a green hand going out to cup your cheek.

“I wish I’d known sooner,” and with that he brushed a finger against your skin. He looked down at your lips as they parted with a shocked breath. He smirked, as only Leo could, and leaned down with a silent question that had you tilting your head to give him better access to your lips.

“Y/n are you even listening to me?”

You blinked.

“Huh?”

You were in the single chair.

“Hello! Earth to Y/n, this is like the biggest moment of my life, I’m telling you I think they may be the one!! Come on focus!!”

Right. You straightened up, crossing a leg over the knee that wouldn’t stop bouncing.

“Sorry, go on,”

And he blinded you with that smile as he retold all of the sickening things that made him so endeared to his crush. If only it wasn’t so endearing to you.

—————————————————————————

This ↓ is why this ↑ came about :D

[ki-kink]

I got a strange package in the mail today. It was a purple tracksuit kit and a pair of white tube socks. I would never wear something like that so i thought i got someone else's package but my name was written on the box.... I have a weird urge to put it on......

Dude, did you totally miss that invite in the rad purple envelope chillin' in the box? It's the premiere of a sick new action flick. "Rock that violet swag, bro" is added in handwriting. You've got zero plans that night. So, why not, right?

You're kinda hanging back. People are struttin' down the red carpet in a freakin' flash of lights. You're feelin' a bit out of your element. That's when you spot the dude who's just as clueless as you are. Rocking a purple tracksuit. You go up to him and strike up a convo. Turns out, he got the same package too. You both feel kinda silly. But you muster up some courage and hit that red carpet together!

Oh my friggin' God, it feels so freakin' awesome in the spotlight, like YAS queen! You're gettin' more and more confident. "Dude, unzip those dang zippers!" You don't gotta tell me twice, bro. You and your homie are damn proud of those hard-earned muscles. And your tats cost a freakin' ton of cash. It'd be criminal to hide 'em. Owen is a friggin' poser. He's makin' his pecs dance and flexin' those rock-hard abs. Well, you ain't gotta tell me twice, gonna follow his lead, BAM!

Oh my god, like, seriously, this pre-fight showdown is, like, totally part of the gig. Owen and you, you guys are, like, total pros. Flexing those muscles, spitting out aggressive one-liners, hurling insults like there's no tomorrow. Who cares if you end up screwing each other later or sucking each other off. Before the fight, you gotta put on a freakin' show. Two ultimate jerk-off fantasies, oozing testosterone from every pore. And you're the freakin' stars of the fight cage. People want a show? Well, people are gonna get a show, baby!

Yo, Owen and you have been straight hustlin' since y'all were four years old. Y'all met in the orphanage, ain't nobody handed you nothin' in life. But whatever you needed, you took it. Sometimes legit through grindin' hard. Sometimes, not so much, who even cares? Today, y'all are the ultimate icons of the Mixed Martial Arts scene. And purple is your signature swag.

[badger-tales]

Unyielding Devotion//D.M x Reader

a/n: The way I've been waiting for a Draco request!!!!! i hope i did him justice, it's kind of a compilation on Draco being jelouse lmao. also my requests are open guys HERER IS WHAT I WRITE

request:

BADGER I CANNOT FIND ANY GOOD DRACO MALFOY X READER FANFIC!

-Ahem- sorry for yelling.

Can you please write for canon- Draco? Why is everyone making him soft ⁉️⁉️ I feel like he would be different to someone he is with but his whole personality wouldn’t change??? He would still be a lil toxic? Maybe it’s the ✨unhealed trauma ✨ speaking for me?

Anyway. Please can you do a canon-Draco imagine? It can be fluff or smut but please NO ANGST. I am sad enough and I need to escape to a beautiful fantasy land. Can you have Draco keep his personality and be a little toxic for the reader? Jealousy, possession, short fuse idk. Let’s make him jealous? Yes that sounds good.

Do what you will with this information. I am sorry I took forever to get to the point.

kthxluvyoubye

word count: 7.9k

 The Slytherin common room was a living, breathing entity that evening. The emerald flames in the fireplace flickered with a lively glow, casting verdant light on the stone walls adorned with old tapestries depicting serpents and legendary Slytherin wizards of old. The air was filled with the hum of laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the smooth jazz pouring from a bewitched gramophone in the corner. It was a celebratory mood, students letting loose after a grueling week of classes, and everything seemed to pulse with an energy that was almost tangible.

Draco Malfoy stood at a distance, his silver eyes observing the scene, but his focus was entirely on you. You stood by one of the darker alcoves, a small smile playing at your lips as you chatted with Blaise. Your laughter, light and melodic, reached Draco's ears despite the noise of the crowded space, and it seemed to hang in the air like an invitation—a sound that made his chest tighten. He watched as Blaise leaned closer to you, his head dipping to whisper something that made you smile wider, and Draco's stomach twisted uncomfortably.

The feeling gnawed at him, a mix of irritation and something else—something primal. Blaise was far too close. He didn't like the way Blaise's hand lingered near your arm, or the way you leaned in to hear what he was saying. He clenched his jaw, his gaze darkening. The Slytherin common room, full of chatter and festive spirit, seemed to blur at the edges, narrowing until all he could see was you and Blaise, and that smile on your face.

He didn’t even realize he was moving until he was standing beside you. Blaise looked up at Draco with a knowing smirk, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement as Draco slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you tightly against his side. It was a possessive movement, one that made his intentions very clear—you were his, and Blaise needed to remember that.

“Having fun?” Draco's voice was smooth, deceptively calm, but you could feel the tension radiating off of him. His fingers pressed firmly into your side, his body a solid wall against your own. You looked up at him, meeting his stormy eyes, and saw the sharp edge behind his seemingly casual demeanor.

“Yeah, we were just talking about—” you began, but Draco cut you off, his gaze never leaving Blaise.

“I’m sure you were,” he said, his voice laced with an undertone that was anything but friendly. He shot Blaise a look, his gray eyes glinting with a silent warning��back off. The smirk on Blaise's face only grew wider, his eyes flicking between the two of you before he raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender.

“Alright, alright. I know when I’m not wanted,” Blaise drawled, his lips curling into an amused smile. He winked at you before stepping away, the knowing grin still plastered on his face as he melted back into the crowd, leaving you and Draco alone.

Draco let out a soft huff, his eyes following Blaise until he disappeared from sight. His arm around your waist tightened, drawing you even closer, and you could feel the way his body was still coiled with tension. It wasn’t just jealousy—it was something deeper, a need to assert himself, to make sure everyone knew that you were his and no one else’s.

“You shouldn’t encourage him,” Draco muttered, his voice low, almost a growl. He finally looked down at you, his gaze softening just slightly as he took in your expression.

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. “Draco, you’re being ridiculous,” you said, your voice light, trying to ease the tension.

“Maybe,” he allowed, his eyes flickering over your face, as if searching for something. His grip on you didn’t loosen; if anything, it tightened, his fingers pressing into your side possessively. “But you’re mine, and I don’t like sharing.”

He pulled you even closer, his body flush against yours now, and you could feel the way his heartbeat thudded against your shoulder, a steady rhythm that betrayed the emotions swirling beneath his calm exterior. His breath was warm against your ear as he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice a soft whisper meant only for you. “And if I see him getting too close again, I won’t be so nice next time.”

The threat in his voice was unmistakable, but there was something else there too—a vulnerability, a fear of losing you that he would never admit aloud. It made your heart skip a beat, a thrill running through you that was equal parts excitement and trepidation. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his fingers dug into your waist, and a part of you couldn’t deny how it made your pulse quicken, how it made your heart race in a way that was both exhilarating and slightly terrifying.

You turned your head slightly, your nose brushing against his cheek as you looked up at him. His eyes were dark, the usual sharpness softened by something more tender, something raw and unguarded. You reached up, your fingers brushing against his jaw, feeling the tautness there, the way his muscles were still clenched in irritation.

“You don’t need to worry about Blaise,” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the noise of the common room. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, the mask slipped. You saw the uncertainty there, the fear that lurked beneath all that arrogance and confidence. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly, and then he nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice softer now, the edge gone. “You are.”

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away—the laughter, the clinking glasses, the crackling of the fire—all of it melted into the background as you stood there, wrapped in Draco’s arms, feeling the intensity of his gaze, the warmth of his body against yours. There was something intoxicating about it, about the way he held you like you were the most important thing in the world, like he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.

Slowly, his lips curved into a small smile, and he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Just... stay close, alright?” he whispered, his voice almost tender now, the possessiveness giving way to something gentler, something more vulnerable.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips as you wrapped your arms around him, resting your head against his chest. “Always,” you promised, and you felt him relax, his arms wrapping around you more securely, as if he could shield you from the rest of the world.

The common room continued to buzz around you, but in that moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading into insignificance. And as you stood there, you couldn’t help but feel that, despite his flaws, despite his jealousy, there was nowhere else you’d rather be than right there, in Draco’s arms, feeling his heart beat steadily beneath your cheek. His possessiveness might have been overwhelming to others, but to you, it was just another sign of how much he cared, and you couldn’t deny the thrill it brought you, knowing that you meant so much to him.

The stands were full, the air thick with anticipation as the game between Slytherin and Gryffindor raged on. The cheers of the crowd blended together, a deafening roar that seemed to vibrate in your very bones. The sky above was a brilliant blue, dotted with the darting figures of players on broomsticks, their robes billowing behind them as they raced for the Quaffle. You were in the stands, the Slytherin section awash with green and silver banners, your voice already hoarse from cheering for Draco and the rest of the team. The energy was palpable, a frenetic buzz that swept through the crowd like wildfire.

Amidst the excitement, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with a Gryffindor boy, his red and gold scarf standing out sharply against the sea of green around you. He was grinning, his eyes alight with the thrill of the game, and he leaned in slightly to make himself heard over the roar of the crowd.

“Quite a match, isn’t it?” he shouted, his voice barely carrying above the noise. You nodded, smiling politely as he continued to speak, his words blending into the cacophony of cheers and jeers around you. He seemed friendly enough, his demeanor open and easy, and soon you found yourself caught up in a light conversation, exchanging comments about the game and laughing at his jokes.

What you didn’t notice was the way Draco’s eyes narrowed dangerously from his position on the field. He had just passed the Quaffle to a teammate when he glanced over at the stands, his gaze instinctively searching for you. When he spotted you, his eyes locked onto the scene—the Gryffindor boy leaning in, you laughing at something he said, the easy smile on your face. A surge of irritation flared within him, his focus momentarily slipping from the game as he glared at the red and gold-clad intruder.

His grip on his broom tightened, his knuckles turning white as he forced himself to look away, to concentrate on the match. But the image lingered, a thorn in his side that only seemed to dig deeper with each passing moment. He pushed himself harder, diving for the snitch with a ferocity that had his teammates glancing at him in surprise. By the time the final whistle blew, signaling Slytherin’s victory, Draco was a bundle of barely-contained frustration, his jaw clenched as he landed and dismounted his broom.

The celebration in the stands was immediate, a wave of cheers and applause washing over the pitch as the Slytherin team was mobbed by their supporters. But Draco had only one thought in mind as he scanned the crowd, his eyes locking onto you almost immediately. He strode towards you, still in his Quidditch gear, his hair windswept, cheeks flushed from the exertion of the game. His eyes were stormy, a mix of triumph and something far darker as he reached you, his hand closing around your arm—gently, but firmly enough to leave no room for argument.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice low, and without waiting for a response, he began to lead you away from the throng of celebrating students. You followed, confused but not resisting, as he pulled you aside, away from prying eyes and the noise of the crowd.

“What was that?” he snapped once you were alone, his eyes flashing as he turned to face you. His chest was still heaving from the game, his hair slightly disheveled, and there was an intensity in his gaze that took you off guard.

“What was what?” you asked, genuinely confused. You could see the tension in his posture, the way his shoulders were squared, his jaw set, and you couldn’t understand what had him so worked up.

“That Gryffindor git,” Draco bit out, his eyes narrowing at the memory. “You looked like you were having a real good time with him.”

Realization dawned, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “Are you jealous?” you asked, your tone teasing as you raised an eyebrow at him.

Draco scoffed, his grip on your arm tightening slightly, his eyes darkening. “I don’t get jealous,” he said, though the edge in his voice betrayed him. “I just don’t want you wasting your time on people who aren’t worth it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at that, shaking your head. “Sure, Draco. Whatever you say.”

His eyes narrowed at your response, and before you could react, he pulled you closer, his hand sliding from your arm to wrap around your waist, his fingers digging in slightly. His body was still radiating heat from the match, and you could feel the tension thrumming through him, a coiled energy that hadn’t yet dissipated. He leaned down, his lips hovering just above yours, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You need to remember who you belong to,” he said, his eyes boring into yours, the intensity of his gaze making your breath catch. “I won’t tolerate anyone trying to take what’s mine, understand?”

His words were possessive, almost dangerously so, but there was something else beneath them—a vulnerability, a fear of losing you that he couldn’t hide, not entirely. His eyes searched yours, waiting for a response, daring you to argue.

You reached up, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. “Draco,” you whispered, your voice soft, meant to soothe. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t need to worry about anyone else.”

For a moment, the tension in his eyes eased, the hardness giving way to something softer, something almost tender. He exhaled slowly, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he closed his eyes, the fight leaving his body in a rush. His arms tightened around you, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel the way his body relaxed, the tension slowly ebbing away.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Because I don’t think I could handle it if you did.”

You smiled, your fingers brushing against his jaw as you tilted your head up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m yours, Draco,” you whispered against his mouth, and you felt him smile in response, a small, relieved curve of his lips that made your heart swell.

The roar of the crowd was still loud in the background, the celebration continuing without you, but in that moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. And as Draco held you, his lips brushing softly against yours, you knew that despite his jealousy, despite his flaws, there was nowhere else you’d rather be than right there, in his arms, feeling the fierce, unyielding love he had for you.

You were sitting in the library, focused on your Potions essay, the quill in your hand moving steadily across the parchment as you scribbled down notes. The library was quiet, a hushed atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the bustling corridors of Hogwarts. Shelves lined with dusty tomes stretched up towards the ceiling, and the faint scent of parchment and ink filled the air. You were deep in concentration, your brows furrowed as you tried to articulate your thoughts on the properties of the Draught of Living Death.

It was then that a Ravenclaw boy approached your table, his blue and bronze tie standing out against the muted tones of the library. He gave you a polite smile, his eyes warm as he gestured to the book you were working from.

“Need any help with that?” he asked, his voice soft so as not to disturb the quiet of the library. He seemed earnest, his gaze friendly as he looked at your notes.

Before you could respond, Draco appeared out of nowhere, sliding into the seat next to you with a fluid grace that spoke of familiarity. His presence was sudden, almost startling, and he fixed the Ravenclaw boy with a glare that could have frozen fire. His silver-grey eyes were cold, his expression one of thinly veiled irritation.

“She doesn’t need your help,” Draco said, his voice icy, each word dripping with disdain. The tone left no room for argument, his gaze locked onto the Ravenclaw with a hardness that made it clear he wasn’t to be challenged.

The Ravenclaw blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden intrusion. His eyes flicked to you for a moment, as if gauging whether you needed rescuing, but when he saw the look on Draco’s face, he seemed to decide against pushing his luck. He cleared his throat, offering a tight smile before quickly making his exit, clearly not wanting to deal with an irritated Malfoy.

You sighed, watching as the Ravenclaw retreated, disappearing behind a row of shelves. You turned your gaze back to Draco, giving him a look that was equal parts exasperation and amusement. “Really?” you asked, your voice carrying a hint of incredulity.

Draco just shrugged, leaning back in his chair, his posture one of nonchalance. A smirk played on his lips, his eyes glinting with something almost playful. “What? I’m just protecting what’s mine,” he said, his tone casual, but there was an edge of seriousness beneath it, a possessiveness that was unmistakable.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, shaking your head, though you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. There was something oddly endearing about his jealousy, the way he always seemed to be on high alert whenever someone else showed even a passing interest in you.

Draco’s smirk softened, his eyes losing some of their sharpness as he looked at you. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, his breath warm against your ear. “And yet, you love me anyway,” he murmured, the words laced with both confidence and a hint of vulnerability.

His gaze locked onto yours, his eyes searching your face, watching for your reaction. “You do love me, right?” he asked, his voice low, almost a growl, the possessiveness returning in full force. “Because I won’t tolerate anything else.”

There was a challenge in his gaze, as if your love was something he needed to claim again and again, as if he needed constant reassurance that you were his and his alone. His eyes bored into yours, daring you to deny it, to argue with him.

You smiled, reaching out to take his hand, your fingers lacing through his. “Of course I love you, Draco,” you said softly, your voice sincere. You could see the tension ease in his shoulders, the hardness in his eyes softening as he let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

“Good,” he whispered, his smirk returning, though it was gentler now, almost affectionate. He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours. “Because you’re mine, and I’m not letting anyone forget it.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile remained, your heart swelling at the intensity in his words. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, but there was no heat in your voice, only affection.

Draco grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Maybe. But you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

And as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tender kiss, you knew he was right. His possessiveness, his jealousy—it was all part of who he was, and despite everything, you wouldn’t change a thing about him.

Draco’s eyes followed you as you walked into the Great Hall, the high vaulted ceiling shimmering with an enchanted sky that reflected the bright morning outside. You wore a smile on your face as you chatted with a group of Hufflepuff friends, your laughter carrying across the large room like a gentle melody. His gaze narrowed when he noticed the way one of the boys nudged you playfully, your laugh in response making something deep in Draco’s chest twist unpleasantly.

He sat at the Slytherin table, his eyes tracking your every movement. The tightness in his chest only seemed to grow as he watched, that familiar jealousy bubbling just beneath the surface, and he clenched his jaw to keep his composure. To everyone else, Draco looked perfectly poised, the same aloof and unaffected pureblood they were used to, but on the inside, he was a storm.

Finally, you made your way over, your eyes meeting his across the hall, and you sent him a warm smile, oblivious to the turmoil stirring within him. You slid onto the bench beside him, your shoulder brushing his, and Draco wasted no time. His arm went around your waist, and his other hand slipped under the table, his palm resting possessively on your thigh.

You shot him a curious look, your eyes flicking to the hand on your leg. “Everything alright?” you asked, though the amused quirk of your lips suggested that you already knew the answer.

Draco leaned closer, his expression seemingly casual to anyone watching, but his grip on your thigh tightened slightly, his fingers pressing into you as if to emphasise his words. “Do you always have to be so friendly with everyone?” he muttered, his voice low enough for only you to hear. There was a bite to his words, his jealousy evident in the way his eyes remained hard, his gaze flicking towards the Hufflepuff boy who was still laughing with his friends at their table.

You looked at him, the corner of your mouth twitching upwards. “It’s called being nice, Draco. You should try it sometime,” you said, your tone teasing.

He rolled his eyes, a sigh escaping him as if he found the very idea exasperating. His fingers on your thigh tightened fractionally, his silver eyes locking onto yours. “I’m nice to you. That’s enough,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk that held just a hint of challenge.

You chuckled, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, the touch gentle and affectionate. “I suppose it is,” you murmured, brushing your nose lightly against his temple before pulling back. You could see the way his posture relaxed, just a bit, his possessive hold on your thigh not quite as rigid.

Draco leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re mine, and I don’t want anyone else getting the wrong idea,” he said, the words possessive and dark, the edge in his tone making it clear just how much he meant it. His fingers tightened again, a slow squeeze that spoke volumes of his emotions—jealousy, protectiveness, and that constant need to make sure everyone knew exactly where you stood.

You turned your head, your lips brushing against the corner of his jaw as you spoke. “I think they already know,” you whispered, your voice soft, meant to soothe. There was a tenderness in your eyes as you looked at him, understanding the depth of his feelings without him needing to say another word.

Draco exhaled slowly, his gaze meeting yours, the storm in his eyes easing, giving way to something softer, something vulnerable. “They’d better,” he muttered, his voice losing some of its sharpness, though the intensity was still there, lingering beneath the surface.

You reached down, your hand resting atop his under the table, your fingers threading through his in a comforting gesture. “I’m not going anywhere, Draco,” you said, your voice steady, your gaze unwavering. “You’re stuck with me.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, his fingers relaxing beneath yours. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “Good,” he murmured, the word almost a sigh, as if the thought of you being his brought him the only real sense of peace he knew.

The Great Hall bustled around you, students laughing, talking, the clatter of cutlery and dishes filling the space. But in that moment, it all seemed distant, the rest of the world fading into the background as you sat there, wrapped up in Draco’s presence. You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, the steady pressure of his hand on your thigh, and you knew that, despite his possessiveness, despite his flaws, this was exactly where you wanted to be.

Draco’s eyes stayed on you, the intensity in his gaze unwavering, and he leaned down again, his lips brushing against your ear. “If they don’t get the message, I’ll make sure they do,” he said, his voice low, almost threatening, but there was a hint of insecurity there too—a fear that you might slip away, that someone else might catch your eye.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes meeting his, and you smiled, your fingers squeezing his gently. “You don’t need to do that. I’m yours, Draco. No one else’s,” you said, your voice full of affection, your gaze holding his.

For a moment, his expression softened completely, the tension easing from his body. He nodded, his forehead pressing against yours briefly. “Alright,” he whispered, the word carrying a weight of emotion, a mixture of possessiveness and love that made your heart swell.

Slowly, he pulled back, a smirk returning to his lips, though it was softer now, almost playful. “Just remember that,” he said, his tone lightening, the usual arrogance creeping back in, though you could see the genuine affection in his eyes.

You laughed, rolling your eyes at him, but there was nothing but warmth in your gaze. “I will,” you promised, leaning in to kiss him, your lips brushing against his in a soft, lingering kiss.

The Great Hall continued its bustle around you, but in that moment, it was just you and Draco, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. And as you pulled back, Draco’s eyes following your every movement, you knew that despite everything, despite his possessiveness and the occasional bouts of jealousy, there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

You were walking down the corridor, the ancient stone walls lined with flickering torches, casting long shadows that danced across the floor. You were deep in conversation with Theo Nott, the two of you laughing softly about a joke he had just made. The atmosphere was relaxed, and you were enjoying the ease of Theo's company—he was always good for a light-hearted chat, his humour dry and his demeanour calm.

Draco caught sight of the two of you from the other end of the corridor. His eyes narrowed, a dark glint flashing in the grey depths as he watched Theo lean slightly closer to you, his lips curved in a smile that made something twist uncomfortably in Draco’s chest. He strode forward, his footsteps echoing off the stone floor, his eyes fixed solely on you. Without sparing Theo so much as a glance, Draco slipped his hand into yours, his grip firm and possessive.

“Draco,” you greeted, a hint of surprise colouring your voice as you looked up at him. “We were just—”

“Leaving,” Draco cut you off, his voice cold as he shot Theo a pointed look, his gaze hard and unyielding.

Theo just chuckled, clearly used to Draco's possessive antics. He gave you a knowing look, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll see you later,” he said, his tone light, before turning and walking away, his laughter echoing softly down the corridor.

You turned back to Draco, raising an eyebrow, your lips pressing together in a thin line that barely concealed your amusement. “Really?” you asked, your voice laced with exasperation. “You’re going to scare off all my friends.”

Draco just smirked, his expression entirely unapologetic as he pulled you closer, his arm sliding around your waist. “Good,” he murmured, his tone smug. “Less competition.”

You huffed, shaking your head, but you couldn’t deny the way your heart raced when he pulled you against him, his body warm and solid next to yours. There was something about the way he held you, the way he seemed to need you so completely, that sent a thrill through you—a mix of frustration and undeniable affection. His lips brushed against your forehead, the contact gentle, almost tender, and you felt your irritation melt away, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest.

“I don’t want to share you. Ever,” Draco whispered, his voice low, the words almost a growl. His eyes darkened, the silver depths stormy as they met yours, and he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, so close you could feel his breath against your skin.

You swallowed, your heart pounding in your chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his robes. “Draco...” you began, but your voice trailed off, the intensity in his gaze stealing the words from your lips.

“And I mean it,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, the dangerous edge in his tone unmistakable. “I don’t care who it is, I won’t let anyone take you away from me.”

There was a promise in his words, a dark, unyielding determination that made your breath hitch. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of doubt, any hint that you might not feel the same. But all he found was the steady affection in your gaze, the way your eyes softened as you looked at him, and slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased.

You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over his skin. “No one’s going to take me away from you, Draco,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the rapid beat of your heart. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his eyes searching yours, and then, finally, he nodded, his forehead resting against yours. His breath was shaky as he exhaled, the storm in his eyes slowly calming. “I just... I can’t lose you,” he murmured, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it.

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, the fear that he tried so hard to hide. You leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to convey everything you felt for him—all the love, all the reassurance. “You won’t,” you whispered against his lips. “I promise.”

Draco’s arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer, and he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a desperate sort of need, as if he was trying to pour all of his emotions into that one moment. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were softer, the harsh edge gone, replaced by something warmer, something that made your heart swell.

“Alright,” he whispered, his lips curving into a small smile. “Just... stay close, yeah?”

You smiled, nodding as you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “Always,” you promised, your arms wrapping around him as you closed your eyes, content to stay like that, wrapped up in Draco’s embrace, the rest of the world fading away.

The corridor around you was empty now, the echoes of Theo’s laughter long gone, and it was just the two of you, standing there in the dim light of the flickering torches. And as Draco held you, his arms wrapped around you protectively, you knew that despite his flaws, despite his possessiveness, there was nowhere else you’d rather be. 

Draco was lounging on the couch in the Slytherin common room, his long legs stretched out, his fingers idly flipping through the pages of a book he wasn’t really reading. The emerald flames in the fireplace cast flickering shadows across his face, the soft glow highlighting the sharp angles of his features. The common room was filled with the usual evening buzz—laughter, conversation, the crackling of the fire. Pansy Parkinson sat nearby, her voice carrying as she shared some gossip, her laughter ringing out and drawing Draco’s half-hearted attention.

But his focus shifted entirely when you walked in, your laughter joining Pansy’s, light and genuine, as you responded to something she had said. His eyes immediately locked onto you, a flicker of something dark crossing his expression. You looked so at ease, so happy, and while Draco loved seeing you smile, he couldn’t help the possessive pang that tightened in his chest when he saw you laughing with someone else.

His gaze followed you as you crossed the room, weaving your way through the groups of Slytherins scattered around, until you reached him. Without hesitation, you plopped down next to him, your shoulder brushing against his, your presence immediately grounding him. He didn’t say a word at first, just slipped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his lap, his other hand resting on your thigh as if to stake his claim.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, his voice casual, though you could hear the edge to it, the subtle note of irritation that betrayed his jealousy.

You smiled, your eyes meeting his as you reached up to run your fingers through his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingertips. “Nothing you need to worry about,” you said lightly, your tone teasing, trying to soothe the tension you could feel radiating from him.

Draco huffed, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. He was silent for a moment, his eyes closing briefly as he inhaled your scent, letting it calm the unease bubbling beneath the surface. “I don’t like you laughing with other people,” he muttered, his voice barely audible, but the words were laced with a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

You rolled your eyes, though the affectionate smile on your lips softened the gesture. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, tilting your head to press a gentle kiss to his temple, your lips lingering for a moment.

Draco’s lips twitched into a small smile, his eyes opening to meet yours, the storm in them easing slightly. “Maybe,” he conceded, his tone lighter, almost playful. “But I’m your ridiculous.”

His fingers trailed along your waist, a feather-light touch that sent shivers down your spine. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper, the words meant only for you. “Just remember that, alright? You’re mine. I don’t share.”

There was an edge to his words, a possessiveness that made your heart skip a beat, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze, the way his eyes bored into yours, as if daring you to contradict him. His grip on your waist tightened, almost bruising, and he pulled you even closer, his body flush against yours.

You swallowed, your heart pounding, but there was no fear—only a thrill that coursed through you, a heady mix of affection and excitement. You knew how deeply Draco felt, how fiercely he loved, and though his possessiveness could be overwhelming, it was also a testament to how much you meant to him.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his jaw as you spoke. “I’m not going anywhere, Draco.”

He let out a slow breath, his eyes softening as they searched yours, as if trying to gauge the sincerity in your words. Slowly, the tension in his body began to ease, his grip on your waist loosening just a fraction, enough to let you breathe, but still holding you close. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours, his eyes closing as he exhaled, the storm within him finally settling.

“I just... I can’t stand the thought of losing you,” he murmured, his voice so soft it was almost a sigh, the words raw and unguarded. It wasn’t often that Draco allowed himself to be vulnerable, to let you see the fear that lurked beneath his confident exterior, but in moments like this, you saw him—truly saw him.

Your heart swelled, and you cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing gently over his skin. “You won’t,” you promised, your voice steady, filled with all the love you felt for him. “I’m yours, Draco. Always.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, and he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was soft, tender, a stark contrast to the earlier possessiveness. His fingers tangled in your hair, his other arm wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close as if to prove to himself that you were really there, that you were his.

When he pulled back, his eyes were lighter, the darkness that had clouded them earlier gone, replaced by a warmth that made your heart flutter. “Alright,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours once more. “Just... stay close, yeah?”

You smiled, nodding as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Always,” you repeated, your voice a soft promise, one that you intended to keep.

The common room continued to buzz around you, the laughter and conversation of your fellow Slytherins filling the space, but it all seemed distant, the rest of the world fading into the background. In that moment, it was just you and Draco, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world inconsequential.

Draco’s arms tightened around you, his eyes closing as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, a content sigh escaping him. And as you sat there, cradled in his embrace, you knew that despite his flaws, despite his jealousy and possessiveness, there was nowhere else you’d rather be. You loved him—every part of him, even the parts that were rough around the edges—and you knew that he loved you just as fiercely, just as completely.

The sun was warm on your face as you sat in the courtyard, your friends around you, their laughter and light-hearted conversation filling the air. It was one of those rare, perfect afternoons—sunshine filtering through the branches of the nearby trees, a gentle breeze stirring the leaves, and the sound of distant bird song adding to the tranquillity. You stretched your legs out, feeling the warmth of the stone beneath you, content in the easy company of your friends.

But the tranquillity didn’t last long. A shadow fell over your group, and you looked up to see Draco Malfoy striding towards you, his presence unmistakable, his posture radiating his usual arrogance. His silver eyes were fixed solely on you, a determined glint in their depths, as if he had a singular purpose in mind. He ignored everyone else, his gaze unwavering as it locked onto you.

“Come on, we’re leaving,” he said, his tone making it clear that there was no room for argument. His voice carried that authoritative note that left little to be questioned, a voice that often made people obey without hesitation.

Your friends exchanged amused looks, some of them raising their eyebrows in silent laughter, clearly used to Draco’s possessiveness. You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes but standing up nonetheless. “You know, you could at least pretend to be polite,” you said, raising an eyebrow at him, your tone lightly teasing as you brushed your robes off.

Draco smirked, his hand slipping into yours with a familiarity that spoke of both habit and need. He squeezed your hand slightly as he looked down at you, his expression entirely unapologetic. “Why?” he drawled, his tone dripping with arrogance. “They already know I’m better than them.”

You rolled your eyes again, though you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. There was something so quintessentially Draco about his behaviour, and despite your exasperation, you found it endearing. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he shot back, his voice laced with that same arrogance, but his eyes softened as he looked at you, something vulnerable flickering in their depths. He tugged you a little closer, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand as he pulled you away from your friends.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice lowering to a whisper that only you could hear. “Because you know no one else could ever treat you the way I do. No one else is good enough for you.” There was a possessiveness to his words, an edge that made your heart skip a beat, the intensity of his emotions almost overwhelming.

His grip on your hand tightened as he led you away, and you could feel the possessiveness radiating off of him, the way his body seemed to curl protectively towards yours, as if shielding you from everyone else. It was as though, in his mind, the world was full of threats, and only he could keep you safe, only he was worthy enough to have you by his side.

You cast a glance over your shoulder, giving your friends a half-apologetic, half-amused smile as they waved, some of them rolling their eyes at Draco’s antics. They were used to it by now, the way Draco would swoop in and pull you away whenever he felt even the slightest bit threatened by someone else’s presence. It was part of who he was—possessive, demanding, but also fiercely devoted.

As you walked away from the courtyard, Draco’s grip on your hand never lessened. He held you close, his stride matching yours as if he needed to make sure you were right there beside him, where he believed you belonged. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his jaw was set, his eyes still stormy even as the courtyard faded from view.

“You really don’t need to be so dramatic, you know,” you said softly, glancing up at him, your tone gentle despite the teasing nature of your words. You could see the way his shoulders were still tense, the jealousy simmering just beneath the surface.

Draco’s gaze flicked down to meet yours, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m not being dramatic,” he insisted, his voice stubborn, though there was a hint of something more vulnerable underneath. He paused for a moment, his grip on your hand tightening just a fraction. “I just... I don’t

The sun shone brilliantly over the Black Lake, its rays shimmering on the surface of the water, creating a dazzling dance of light that seemed almost magical. You and Draco sat together by the edge of the lake, enjoying one of those rare moments of tranquillity that Hogwarts seldom allowed. The breeze was gentle, rustling the leaves of the nearby trees, and you could hear the faint call of birds in the distance. You leaned against Draco, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders, and for a moment, it felt as though the rest of the world had disappeared.

It was peaceful. Just the two of you, with the warmth of the sun on your faces and the soft lapping of the water against the shore. You felt Draco’s steady breathing, his chest rising and falling in a calming rhythm that made you relax further into his embrace. His presence was comforting, a solid anchor in the midst of all the chaos that life at Hogwarts often brought.

“You know, you don’t have to get so jealous all the time,” you said, breaking the silence. Your voice was soft, meant to be gentle rather than accusatory, as you turned your head slightly to look up at him.

Draco’s jaw tensed for a moment, and he huffed, his gaze shifting to the shimmering surface of the lake. “I’m not jealous,” he replied, his tone defensive, though it lacked its usual bite. “I just don’t trust other people around you.” His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression hardening for a second before it softened again, his vulnerability showing through.

You smiled, your heart warming at his honesty. You turned in his arms, shifting so you could see his face fully, your fingers reaching up to brush a stray lock of platinum hair away from his forehead. “You’re impossible, you know that?” you said, your voice holding a teasing note, though the affection behind your words was clear.

Draco’s gaze finally met yours, and you watched as his expression softened, the tension in his features easing. The corners of his lips tugged upwards slightly, a faint smile breaking through. “Maybe,” he conceded, his voice quieter now, almost a murmur. “But you love me anyway.”

You leaned in, your eyes locking onto his, and you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. It was gentle, reassuring, a promise wrapped in a simple touch. When you pulled back, your eyes met his, and you smiled. “Yeah, I do,” you whispered, the sincerity in your voice leaving no room for doubt.

Draco’s smirk returned, a bit more pronounced this time, and he pulled you closer against him, his arm tightening around your shoulders. “Good,” he said, his voice a little rough, but there was a tenderness there too. “Because I’m not planning on letting you go.”

His fingers traced lazy patterns along your arm, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. He tightened his grip on you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “You belong to me,” he said, his voice low, a possessive edge to his words. “And I don’t care who knows it. I’ll fight anyone who thinks they can take you from me.”

His gaze bore into yours, the sincerity and desperation in his expression making your heart skip a beat. He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes closing for a moment as he let out a slow breath. “You’re everything to me,” he continued, his voice softer now, raw with emotion, “and I won’t let anything—or anyone—come between us. Ever.”

There was an intensity in his voice, a raw honesty that made your heart swell with emotion. Draco wasn’t just possessive—he was desperate, and the way he held onto you made it clear that he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side. You could feel it in the way his fingers tightened against your arm, in the way his body seemed to curl protectively around yours, as if shielding you from any unseen threat.

You reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek, and he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. “I know,” you whispered, your voice steady, full of affection. “And I’m not going anywhere, Draco. You don’t need to worry about that.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at you, his grey eyes searching your face as if trying to find any hint of doubt. When he found none, he let out a shaky breath, his lips curving into a small smile. “You promise?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, the vulnerability in his words making your chest tighten.

You smiled, nodding as you pressed another kiss to his lips, lingering for a moment before pulling back. “I promise,” you said softly, your forehead resting against his. “Always.”

Draco’s arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the tension slowly leaving his body, replaced by a sense of calm that seemed to wash over both of you. The sun continued to shine down, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves, and for that moment, everything felt perfect.

You closed your eyes, your fingers running through his hair as you held him, the two of you wrapped up in each other. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you by the lake, lost in your own little bubble of peace and love. Despite everything—the jealousy, the possessiveness, the fear—you knew that Draco loved you fiercely, completely, and there was nowhere else you’d rather be than right there, in his arms, by the Black Lake, with the sun shining down and the promise of forever hanging in the air between you.

[thelonelyshore-if]

Oh well, Ring confusion aside, I actually have a new question!

I've still been thinking about that Jay PoV about when they rescued MC from the lake, and I can't stop thinking about Ravi initially not wanting the MC there (not to mention that ask about him regretting offering for the MC to go with him, too).

And now I'm curious but... What does Ravi think about a MC who just follows him like a puppy and is always full of sunshines towards him, no matter his teasing and what not? Like, 100% trust and sweetness and friendlyness. And on a side note, what does Jay think of such a MC following their best friend like that?

PS: I'm mostly asking this as an "early game" question, where MC may have had an instant crush on Ravi, but you can't properly call that the "crush stage" of the relationship yet, basically. Though of course, if you want, you can also answer it for crush or relationship stage! I'm just mainly asking for the current general time frame cause I think it's interesting if you take into account Ravi's behavior with the MC atm.

Oooh interesting question!!

Ravi's thoughts about MC in the early game here are mixed. He doesn't understand why the fog is letting something stay that it didn't bring in itself. That...scares him isn't the the right world. Concerns him, I guess. It makes him wary that there's something about MC he doesn't see yet. Something that changes things.

Ravi doesn't really like change.

That being said, he's interested in MC from the start for the same reasons. Not necessarily romantically, but more in a 'study you under a microscopic' kind of way. It's why he's friendly in the beginning, despite his reservations.

All this to say. If MC was a sunbeam of a person who instantly took a liking to him and trusted him and followed him around, he'd feel...weird about it, I guess? He's not usually the type of person folks are drawn to. They'd be some self-doubt there, and some suspicion.

On the other hand he likes being around that sort of person. People who are so full of life make him feel alive, and it's intoxicating. He'd grow very fond of MC very quickly, despite his reservations. Plus, if MC trusts him and follows him around, it'll be that much easier to keep them safe. If they stick together MC couldn't wander into the woods and get eaten or disappeared or whatever.

And tbh I don't think Jay would think much of it!! They'd find it a bit surprising--Ravi isn't really the type to make friends--but they'd be happy that there's someone else around who might be able to make Ravi smile c:

[fanfics4all]

What Best Friends Are For

Request: Yes / No

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 1332

Warnings: Mentions of someone dead and being caught up in shady shit

Y/N: Your Name 

Prompt(s): I did this based on this post!

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

I stood in front of Spencer’s door, my heart pounding harder than it ever had. I could feel the cold creeping through my bones, but nothing compared to the chill of fear gripping me inside. I wasn’t sure he’d even recognize me after all this time, sure we talked all the time, but it’s still been so long since we’ve seen each other. But I had nowhere else to go. Nowhere safe, nowhere I trusted. Just Spencer. 

When the door opened and I saw him standing there, I couldn’t help but see a rush of relief wash over me. His face softened and his familiar, warm eyes widened as he looked me over. I saw concern flicker there almost immediately, but he just stepped aside and invited me in. 

The warmth of his apartment was a stark contrast to the icy night outside, but it couldn’t chase away the dread that had settled deep in my chest. I felt his presence at my side as he followed me to the couch. It took everything in me to not break down right then and there. Instead, I forced a small smile and sat, clasping my hand tightly in my lap. 

“Do you remember when we were little, and I asked you if we’d always be friends?” I asked, looking up at him. Spencer smiled that gentle smile that I remembered so well. My heart ached as I waited for his response. 

“I said you could murder someone, and I’d still be your friend.” The warmth of the memory was fleeting. 

“How well has that aged?” I asked, trying to hide the shake in my voice, forcing a laugh that sounded more like a broken whisper. His smile disappeared and his eyes filled with concern as he searched my face. 

“What happened?” I looked down at my hands, trying to gather the corsage to say it. It was the whole reason I came here, wasn’t it? To tell him. To ask for help. I just didn’t know if he’d still look at me the same way again. 

“I… I didn’t know where else to go.” I managed, barely about to keep my voice steady. 

“Something happened, Spence, something bad. And I’m… I’m scared.” His hand covered mine, his touch grounding me like it always had. 

“You can tell me anything, Y/N.” He said and I felt his thumb brushing gently over my knuckles. I forced myself to look up at him and I could feel my throat tightening with the words I was about to say. 

“It’s just… things got complicated. I made some bad choices, got mixed up with the wrong people…” I felt a tear slip down my cheek and I looked away, ashamed. 

“And now… now someone’s dead because of me.” 

The silence that followed felt like a thousand pounds on my shoulders. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I couldn’t bear to see disappointment or horror in his beautiful eyes. But instead, I felt his hand squeeze mine, pulling me out of my thoughts. 

“Tell me everything, Y/N.” He whispered, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. 

“We’ll figure this out, together.” I felt another tear escape and this time, I didn’t hold back. I turned my hand under his, squeezing it. The tears came harder, all the fear and guilt I’d been holding back finally surfacing. But Spencer didn’t let go. He just kept his hand in mine. I took a shaky breath, trying to piece together where to even start. 

“It was supposed to be simple…” My voice was barely above a whisper. 

“A couple of new friends and I got caught up in this scheme, Spence. At first, it seemed harmless, a quick way to make some money. But things spiraled so fast…” I looked down ashamed. 

“I didn’t know what they were really planning and by the time I realized… someone was already dead.” Spencer’s grip on my hand tightened. His gaze was fixed on me, his face still calm, but I could see the concern in his eyes deepening. 

“Who are these people? Are you in danger?” I nodded, feeling my stomach twist. 

“They know I want out now. I think they suspected I might talk, and I was scared to go to the police. I thought… maybe I could just come here. You’re the only person I trust.” 

He took a deep breath and I could see him processing everything, analyzing every word I said. Spencer was a genius, that I knew. He’s probably already pieced together more than I could even say. Yet, he didn’t rush me. He let me speak at my own pace, his steady gaze holding me in place. 

“You were right to come here.” He said softly. 

“We’ll handle this. We can go to the police together and I’ll make sure they know you’re not involved the way they’ll think you are. You’re safe here, okay?” The certainty in his words made my heart ache differently. All I’d done was run to him, and yet, he was willing to risk everything just to help me. 

“Thank you, Spence. I-I don’t deserve this kindness.” 

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N.” His tone was gentle, but firm. 

“I’d do anything for you, I always have.” He brushed a strand of hair from my face. I noticed just how close he’d gotten. The world outside, the danger, faded away. It was just us, like when were were kids, the two of us finding safety and understanding in each other. I loved him then, in a way I didn’t fully understand, but now there was no denying what it was. 

“Spencer…” I started, not knowing where to go with the words, but he seemed to understand, like always. He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper. 

“We can figure the rest out tomorrow, but tonight, just know I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” I closed the space between us, pressing my forehead against his, feeling his warm breath fan my face. 

“I love you…” I whispered, and before he could say anything, I pressed my lips against his. He didn’t hesitate to kiss me back. 

“I love you too, Y/N…” He said when we pulled away. 

“But, if you needed money, why didn’t you come to me?” He asked, his voice gentle but I could hear a bit of hurt. I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out at first. Shame and guilt clawed at me, knowing I’d chosen the riskier, more dangerous path instead of just talking to him. 

“Spencer…” I whispered, looking down. My fingers were fidgeting with the edge of my sleeve. 

“I…I didn’t want you to think less of me. I didn’t want you to see me like this… Desperate, needing help. I was afraid you’d think I was weak.” He shook his head, squeezing my hand gently. 

“That’s not true and you know it.” He said, a hint of frustration in his voice. 

“I would never have thought less of you. I would have done anything to help you, make sure you didn’t have to go through this.” His voice softened. 

“You’re my best friend, Y/N. That’s what I’m here for, to help you.” I felt a tear slide down my cheek, and he brushed it away. 

“I thought I could fix it myself. I didn’t want to be a burden.” I admitted, my voice trembling again. 

“You could never be a burden to me.” He said softly. A shaky breath escaped me, and I felt his arm slide around my shoulders, pulling me into a gentle embrace. I melted into his warmth, letting him calm me down. 

“I’m sorry, Spence… I’m so sorry.” I muttered against his chest, feeling his heartbeat under my cheek. He held me tighter, his hand brushing through my hair. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for. You’re here now and that’s all that matters. We’ll get through this together.” He whispered.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1 @pettyjayy @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @answer-the-sirens @andreasworlsboring101  @reidssmile @currentfangirl-futuremedexaminer @mggstyles @satans-0-spawn @emofairygay @thesoftestwarlock @liz-owl 

[mullet-stan101]

Werewolf! Stan x reader

Chapter one, Tw: some mentions of blood

Something had happened on the road, he can’t even describe it. Something had attacked him and now he doesn’t know whether he’ll live or die. Stan has backed off from crawling back to Ford multiple times but he doesn’t know what else to do. He hopes that he can manage to even get to Gravity Falls…God he hopes he’s still there…he has to be. 

Stan groans as he parks his car and he slumps back against the seat. Blood has dried on his clothes and the seat now, it’s disgusting. He breathes heavily as he closes his eyes, the deep bite in his shoulder continues to throb just as painfully as it did three days ago. He flips the mirror down and it scares him something awful. He looks like a corpse. Just within a few days he’s managed to lose weight and he’s pale and gray looking. He looks down at the address he had scribbled on an old receipt. He’d stopped for directions and scared a shop owner, but he told him where Ford’s house is. He pulls up to the extravagant house in the woods and trudges to the door, knocking weakly.

“Ford…it’s me…” 

After a few minutes footsteps are heard inside and the door opens slightly. Y/n peeks out, not recognizing him at all but eyes widening as she sees the state he’s in…he looks just like Stanford.

“Who are you?”

Stan groans as he leans against the house, holding the wound on his shoulder with a wince.

“Ford…where’s Ford?”

“He’s here. But he doesn’t like visitors.”

“Please…I’m his brother…”

Y/n hesitates but opens the door, feeling bad for Stan, he looks like death. She opens the door fully and helps him in. He smells like dried blood and musk, something is really wrong by his torn clothes.

“I guess I can’t deny that you’re related…but he is gonna be pissed.” 

Stan nods slowly and groans as she lugs his bulk inside, and he collapses on the couch in Ford’s living room. The house is quiet and organized, the log cabin feel mixed in with all of Ford’s strange collections gives it a rather creepy vibe. Stan groans as he hits the couch and he holds his shoulder that is still damp with blood. She looks down at it anxiously, hesitant to help him. Before you can make her decision, footsteps move closer.

“Y/n I told you to-”

Ford blinks seeing you kneeling next to someone on the couch.

“I told you not to let anyone in here!”

She frowns as she looks up from where she’s observing Stan.

“What do you mean? This is your brother!”

“I don’t care!”

 “Look at him! He’s half-dead!”

Ford’s thick brows knit in worry as he notices what you’re saying; he looks down at Stan on the couch. Stan shivers, now sweaty and glassy eyed as he finally has gotten to rest, but this makes his body slow down even more.

“F-Ford…m’sorry…help me…”

Ford’s eyes soften ever so slightly as Stanley mumbles a weak plea, despite his rugged appearance he seems so small and scared. Ford can’t help but sympathize as he’s concerned.

“What happened?”

“He just stumbled up to the house…it looks like an animal attacked him.”

The two of them get Stan into a bed and clean his wound. The wound isn’t too big and he hasn’t lost too much blood but it’s definitely infected. Ford is even more concerned with the size of the teeth marks. Ford with his supernatural ideas immediately thinks of a werewolf but y/n doesn’t agree. Stan falls unconscious and he sleeps all night. The next day, y/n goes to change his bandages but she’s surprised to see the bite is gone, not even a scar. Ford comes to see it when she tells him, and he’s shocked, not wanting to admit that he’s scared.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do…he’s still sick…it’s obviously what I think.”

Y/n shakes her head, denying it because despite all of Ford’s ideas, she hasn’t seen anything as scary story-like as a werewolf.

“Ford- unicorns and stupid little gnomes are something but this is just stupid! The bite might’ve been older than we thought.” 

“We’ll just have to see…”

So for the next few weeks Stan is comatose. This concerns both of them, especially Ford, but he doesn’t get any better or worse…just sick. Three weeks he is this way, each night Ford tracks the moon. Y/n denies it all she wants, but it is no coincidence because the day he wakes up…it’s a full moon. 

[starrymused]

"It was inoffensive." Which wasn't the best way to describe a date but it could have been far worse, too. However, after just one date and Dae remembered why he didn't do this. He looked out at the passing street lights and sighed.

"It was fine."

Maybe he was the wrong one for expecting more on a first date. That was unreasonable. And it wasn't the other man's fault when Dae wasn't into the idea to begin with. He was just doing it to, what, prove something? Yes, he'd taken Kwang-sun's advice but why? He didn't want to.

"He pisses me off." He said to himself. The more he thought about it, the more annoyed he got. On some level, he knew where Kwang-sun was coming from, but he also didn't appreciate that treatment. What did he think was going to happen? He said that he might not be what Dae wanted and that it was better for him to figure out what he wanted before he settled on him? Dae knew what he wanted and it was actually really fucking annoying to be told that he had to figure it out more. Yeah, he didn't have experience but neither did Kwang-sun! He said he hadn't dated since he was a teenager! Technically, Dae had more experience!

He turned to Gunner.

"If you confessed to someone that you liked them and wanted to be with them and they told you they weren't against it but also told you to date other people, what would you think? It's mixed signs, right? It's basically them telling you to move on and find someone else. If they were really interested, the thought of you being with someone else would be upsetting."

Dae was starting to believe that Kwang-sun didn't want him at all. Because even the excuse of not being what Dae was looking for had no grounds. Then they'd just break up like any normal couple. Why did Dae have to go soul-searching or whatever?

He crossed his arms.

He was Yoon Dae-seong, the CEO of one of the biggest fashion companies in Korea. He was successful, hot, and rich. Maybe his personality could use a bit of work, but he had a lot under the surface that was waiting to come out!

No, he wasn't going to let himself be strung along. Either Kwang-sun wanted him or he didn't.

"Take me to Kwang-sun's house."

"Duh," Gunner gave a thumbs up, then jutted it over to the passenger seat. "Come on, hop in. Lex stole Polina away for a shopping trip."

There was no need to be subtle when Dae knew all of Alexei's 'tricks.' But were they really tricks, or just his brand of communication? Either way, Gunner had no intention of beating around the bush with Dae. He could be such an upright snoot when he wanted to be -- which, admittedly, was less often.

"He said you were on a date?" Gunner checked his side mirror as Dae climbed in. "Considering you needed a car, I'm guessing it wasn't at least Lex's idea of a good time?"

[trollex-is-gay]

The concept of Viva is pretty interesting as well- not only contrasting nicely with branch regaining his siblings, but the fact poppy Barley knew her (which I will use to further my little sister poppy train) (also king peppy, princess poppy.... using this naming convention, is Viva named similar to their other parent? ) meaning during the great escape, the three where seperated... did peppy order other to not talk abought her in his grief?

Viva makes me just as feral as the rest of the sibling crew (Trolls 3 was THE movie for emotionally unwell sibling groups fr) but like even more so because with how young she looks and how easily she clicks with Poppy...she's definitely implied to be the older sister, but she can't be THAT much older than Poppy. Meaning that when all the stuff described in the movie happened she had to have still been a kid. Which makes me wonder if another troll raised her or if it was a situation where all of the other cut-off trolls just raised Viva as a community (things I am TOTALLY using for my AU actually). And of course Viva would want to be in charge, her dad was the king. The Peppy situation also makes me think that he NEVER got over Viva disappearing. Like he never processed that grief, because if he had learned to live with it, he would've explained to his daughter he did have that she had a sister who they unfortunately lost. Which means Peppy never found a way to cope...and I guess most trolls would find it insensitive to mention Viva to the king and princess because they'd assume it's a sensitive subject. I imagine after all was said and done Poppy would actually be a little bit upset in her core, the poor girl had a sister the whole time and nobody bothered to even MENTION her, not even that she had a sister, much less her name.

[edwinisms]

it’s actually so wild to me that this fairly quirky YA type show gave both of its main characters deaths that can, in one way or another, solidly be considered hate crimes. they were both flat out murdered as a result of being A) gay and effeminate or B) brown (south asian, specifically) and you could argue whether or not those kids thought of it that way in the moment or whatever but the bottom line is that they would not have been in the situations that killed them if they weren’t of their respective minorities. like legitimately that is a ballsy choice for this kind of netflix show, let alone for the two Main Characters, and i respect it big time