#i could clean it up or turn it into a fic or just dump it here sometime

[t1red-twilight]

go ahead and cry

summary: reader and spencer bond over daddy issues.

content/warnings: gn!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, cursing, trauma, daddy issues on both ends (spence and reader), no use of y/n, mention of self harm, ptsd, dissociation, lmk if i missed anything

notes: i have daddy issues (rip), and i wrote this as a way to cope with that (rip). so, this could be seen as being trauma dumping (do not read if you’re not comfortable with that). i wanted to acknowledge this in a separate section other than just the warnings. otherwise, this fic is very personal to me. i hope you enjoy it! ily!<3

word count: 2k

masterlist

you were driving spencer home from work. the air between the two of you felt tense; it had been this way since the second half of the work day at the office.

he couldn’t remember when you had started acting differently, just that at some point after lunch you started acting more melancholic. you had gotten so good at hiding this aspect of yourself that nobody noticed, or at least nobody that knew you as well as spencer noticed.

the soft hum of the music from the radio filled the silence, but the sadness emanating from you wafted throughout the car. he didn’t know how to address the situation at first, so he just sat and puzzled his mind for any sort of way to talk to you.

you, however, noticed that spencer was stuck in his head. “hey, are you alright?” you glanced over to him quickly then back to the road. you clicked the signal down and changed lanes. the clicking could be heard over the radio.

“uh, yeah? are you okay?” he fiddled with his hands in his lap and looked over at you. the sounds of his rigid breaths thrummed in your ears. you squinted at the lines on the road.

you paused before responding to his question, “yeah! why wouldn’t i be?” your voice was filled with false happiness, and was followed by an even more awkward laugh. this did not go unnoticed by spencer.

you don’t know why you thought you could hide anything from him, but knowing this didn’t stop you from trying to.

“you just seem…off.” he hesitated before continuing. “you’ve felt off for a little while today, actually.”

you hesitated again. “it's not a huge deal, you don’t need to worry about it.” looking over at him, you moved your hand from the wheel to place it in his lap on top of his. you smiled over at him again. he knew it was fake.

the remainder of the car ride went without any speaking. the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but the silence felt unwanted on your end at least. spencer’s voice was the only thing keeping you from floating away from the moment.

you were mindlessly driving for the rest of the way home. the world was fuzzy and hazy. muscle memory kicked in and you got home safely despite not being aware of your surroundings or that anything had even occurred.

you were supposed to be going to spencer’s for the night, but you had ended up at your own apartment. “oh shit. sorry, i can drive us back to your place. force of habit, i guess.” you tried to blink off the haze that was cocooning you.

spencer watched you rub your eyes with the tips of your fingers and his brow furrowed. “no, it’s fine, we can stay here tonight. i love your apartment.” he moved his head so that he was looking into your downtrodden stare. he grabbed your hand and squeezed it. the scent emanating off of him was the same clean, linen scent that you had grown to love and gain comfort from.

your hand squeezed his back before you opened your door and grabbed both of your things. you lightly jogged over to his side of the car to open his door, holding out your hand to guide him out of it. once out, you locked the car and you both walked up to the entrance to the lobby.

when you were both in front of the elevator, he turned to you and sighed. “are you sure you’re okay? i don’t want to push you or anything, but you don’t have to feel bad about talking to me. that’s what i’m here for, you know?” the door opened, you copied his sigh.

pushing the button for your floor, you adjusted your hold on your’s and spencer’s things. he kept his head turned looking at you. his big doe eyes were pleading. he just wanted to help you. you had done so much for him, he just wanted an opportunity to return the favor.

he inched his pinky on his right hand over to your left hand. he laced your two pinkies together. your breathing halted before you unlaced your fingers to wipe a solitary tear from your cheek. you took your hand and reunited it with spencer’s, this time you interlocking your hands completely. his pleading seemed to get even more desperate, if possible.

“i just-” you cut yourself off and inhaled deeply. you felt the thin lines of scar tissue underneath your clothes burn. you desperately wanted to itch at them. “my dad called me on my lunch break today.” you stared off into the distance and clicked your fingernails against each other.

it seemed as if both of you stopped breathing for a moment. spencer was about to say something, then the elevator dinged. the walk to your apartment door made room for the silence to temporarily return. the floor creaked as you both approached your apartment.

the click of the your front door shutting prompted spencer to pull you in to a emphatically tight hug. it was the type of hug that filled your soul with warmth and quenched your thirst for closeness. you attempted to choke back your sobs, but when he held you tighter you broke.

you didn’t hug him back from the start, but quickly you dropped the jacket and bags that you had been holding and held him back with an equally powerful squeeze. your emotions took hold and coursed through you wholly.

“go ahead. you can cry, i don’t mind.” you pressed your cheek against his chest and sobbed. the wetness of your tears dampened his shirt. he placed one hand on the back of your head and held it close to the side of his neck. it was a precise movement, but it was not forceful in any way.

“do you want to talk about it?”

“what he said isn’t important. it just made me feel shitty. I can’t think about him without remembering everything- without feeling everything that he did.” you picked at the folds of fabric on the back of spencer’s shirt. the way that he was rubbing circles into your back provided grounding so that you didn’ float away again like you did in the car.

he made his breathing more pronounced and you understood what he was communicating. it wasn’t overly dramatic or mocking at all. your breathing began to match his. he pulled away and looked at you. “do you want me to distract you?”

“if it’s okay, i think i want to talk it out a little bit.” he offered a soft smile, one that you did not have the energy to return. he removed one arm from you back to reach behind him and take off his shoes. you pulled away from him completely and took off your shoes and your sweater you were wearing over your button down.

he motioned towards the couch. you sat next to him on it, and he grabbed your legs and swung them over his lap. you scooted closer to him so that you could lean on him but still look at his face. to an onlooker, this position might have looked awkward and maybe even a little strained and strange. you and spencer often found yourselves sitting like this. it provided everything necessary: a closeness that wasn’t smothering but gave the comfort that you two loved.

he took his left arm rested it around your waist while his right hand sat on your knee. “i know that he’s just trying to be a dad, but he isn’t my dad. he never was; he lost that privilege. he always finds a way to make me feel bad about something, or say something fucked up.” you paused.

“i know you don’t want me to say that i’m sorry, but i am. i’m sorry that you aren’t able to have that relationship with him that i know you once craved.” he took a breath, thinking about what to say. “ i do think, however, that it is fantastic that you’re dating me. one, because i love knowing you and knowing that you feel the same way; seeing as you’re beautiful, smart, and incredibly well spoken. two, because i have felt similar things in the past. i don’t know many people that come from broken families and have inoperable paternal relationships.” he tapped his nose on yours. when you looked at him, he gave you a small, wistful smile.

“how do you do it?” you asked him. he hummed in response. “how do you not let him control your life? i mean, how does he not affect you?” he rubbed your knee. you could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

“he does,” he said matter-of-factly. “well, i mean, the things that he did and said are instilled into who i am and have permanently impacted how i react and perceive things.” he took a deep breath, he was staring at the footrest at his feet. he looked back up at you. “i’m not perfect. some days are better than others. but, in the end we’re just children longing for the affection we were never given.”

the silence that surrounded you both as you thought of a way to respond was different than the one that held you both in the car. it was a silence that you were familiar with, it was saturated with the trust that you felt for him.

you laid your head down on his shoulder. the fabric of his button-down was stiff, but it was soft (once you had complained that spencer needed to invest in a better clothing softener. he abided).

spencer and his aura imbued your senses. he smelled and felt of comfort. you were acutely aware of how he gently and faintly rubbed his cheek against the top of your head.

“even though i can’t get back the childhood he took from me, i don’t ever stop wanting it.” your voice shook minutely. “i don’t have any faith that my father is a good person, or that he will ever change to become one. i don’t think i’ve ever looked at him and not seen the horrible ways he changed me. but i don’t ever stop wanting him to be better. he won’t be, and i know that to be a fact. but i know that he once had the potential to be something great, and i guess that gives me the faint underlying of hope that maybe, just maybe, he’ll do something to make up for what he did to me.”

spencer kissed the top of your head. you swore that you felt him crying but did nothing to question him on it. there was no need for him to respond that time; you just listened to his heartbeat. you payed attention to your breathing and tried to steady it.

after a few minutes, he said something. “i love you, and i’m sorry.” the simplicity filled the void in you, even though you knew that it was nonpermanent. you would eventually long for his comfort and repeat this dance again and again.

your voice was almost reduced to a whisper. “i’m sorry that sometimes i’m a mess-” he tried to cut you off but you spoke over him. “i’m sorry that i can’t ask for help when i need it- but i won’t stop needing you. i love you. please don’t leave me. i have no clue what i would do or who i would be if you weren’t with me.”

“i was trying to say that you aren’t a mess,” you could hear the watery smile in his tone, “you aren’t a mess. and i’m not going to leave. i could never do that to you. i am going to stay as long as you’ll have me stay. okay? as long as you’ll have me, i’ll be here. with you.”

and so, you sat like that. and for a moment, while spencer held you, you existed as one. the line blurred between you. you were two broken children finding solace in each other.

#spencer reid has daddy issues and so do i #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #hurt/comfort #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #fanfic #x reader

[technovillain]

that lil comic is 2 years before the happenings of PN1 to me btw.... like Raz came out to his family pretty shortly after those events and then it was a short pipeline of "trans acceptance to psychic acceptance" in his own mind and he started to get himself into "psychic trouble" with his family again after that, and that started to stress frazie out. bc she knew that the family was already adjusting and that it was an especially bad time to start having psychic drama again. she just wanted things to be right and normal the way they were after raz started socially transitioning. the family became so close for a while after that. and this psychic stuff was just going to tear them apart--

#teehee #i be writing so much lately #i have written the deets of all 3 of the transmasc hcs i have in psychonauts' trans experiences and how they came out n stuff #rly happy with how it came out #i could clean it up or turn it into a fic or just dump it here sometime #lemme know which would be best maybe?? #hcs #.txt

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

Secret Lovers

Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader

Simon wasn’t someone who very willingly opened up to anyone, his teammates were no exception either, save for Price. It was always better to keep things quiet and let people assume what they pleased instead of trying to answer their questions. Better to remain mysterious than show your cards to the wrong person. a/n:this was originally started because of a snippet @thebeesatemyknees had written, thank you so much for letting me turn this into a full fic! I hope I was able to do it proper justice warnings:none, just tons of fluff Part 2

Simon wasn’t someone who very willingly opened up to anyone, his teammates were no exception either, save for Price. It was always better to keep things quiet and let people assume what they pleased instead of trying to answer their questions. Better to remain mysterious than show your cards to the wrong person. Johnny had badgered him from day one if he had a partner, going on and on about how much he loved his girlfriend. SImon wasn’t going to tell him anything, no matter what he’d keep his lips sealed.

Kyle was the next one to ask, though it was more in passing rather than a true and genuine question when he cornered the older man. They had been discussing mission details when the topic arose, did he have a next of kin? And if so, who would be the one to inform them if Ghost were to be KIA’d? He never asked Simon after that day, instead going on to different topics whether they had to do with the mission or what they wanted to eat. Kyle treated him like a friend, it was nice.

And John, well he knew all about Simon’s personal and very private life.

~~~

You were a new addition to the team, a medic that could stitch up a wound within a minute and get you back on the field within five. They were thankful to have you come around with them, helping stitch up a wound on Johnny’s arm, or cleaning up a gash on Kyle’s head. The only person who seemed to be a little wary around you was Simon, which both Johnny and Kyle felt odd. You fit in their group like the puzzle piece that was missing, and yet Simon acted as if he wanted nothing to do with you. Surely he’d warm up to you a little more, they were all sure of it.

“Thank you all for meeting me on such short notice. We’ve got word that an arms dealer is hosting a gala and we need to get more intel before we can swoop in.” Kate was a woman who took no shit and left no prisoners, she wasn’t going to risk this.

“Who do we want to send?” John was nervous, his men were trained for this, but putting them into a situation where they’d have to become someone else entirely? Nerve wracking.

“I was discussing it with Shepherd last night, and we’ve decided that Simon and Y/N will be going on this mission while the rest of you stake out the building.” All eyes suddenly shifted to Simon who looked calm as ever.

He’d forgone the mask for this mission briefing, knowing that only his teammates and Kate would be in the room with him. Knowing that you were going to be there made things a little more tense, could he handle something that dire?

“If you think that’s what’s best, I fully support the decision.” John wasn’t going to argue, Simon could be suave and charm the pants off of anyone if needed.

“Thank you, we’ll be heading out tomorrow and meeting up at the hotel. Promise me you’ll behave so no one suspects you, please.” Kate knew how much of a troublemaker that Johnny and Kyle could be, given the opportunity of course.

“I’ll make sure of it myself if need be, don’t you worry.” John smiled up at her, leaving Kate to wonder how much trouble there would be.

They would need to debrief you on the plane ride over, given that you weren’t even in the room with everyone. Having something like that just dumped on you with no time to prepare was the worst, how could they manage? Simon would just have John give you the rundown so he could worry about more important things, like how he’d have to act like the two of you were so desperately in love.

You would have an entire day to get comfortable in the hotel room, there would be a few people lingering so you’d get used to being stared at. Simon knew they’d mainly be staring at you, you were downright gorgeous. And with the clothes that had been picked out? A deep navy blue tux, with a pitch black button up and black silk tie. It perfectly matched the dress they’d picked out for you, a deep V down the front that left just enough to the imagination. The color matched his tux almost identically, the only difference was your dress was silk. 

“They’ve packed everything for you to do your own hair and makeup, we don’t want you to stand out too much, better to blend in.” It was the smartest idea, if you or Simon were to attract too much attention things would end badly.

“Yeah, Kate told me as much as she could, I made sure to pack my best heels.” You were nervous, it’d been so long since you’d been able to go out to something fancy.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” John knew you were smart and quick witted, but something about this mission unnerved him.

“I’m positive, Simon and I will get the intel and get out before anyone even notices we’re missing.” You were confident everything would go smoothly, Simon could be silent if needed.

John nodded at you, settling back into his seat as the plan began to descend down onto the tarmac below. Simon was staring at you from across the way, palms sweating slightly as the time drew closer to getting inside the hotel. Johnny was going to see how nervous he was and make comments, he was sure of it. The sound of tires squealing brought everyone’s attention to high alert. It was time to grab your things and head to the cars, you were driving over with Simon, leaving the other three to their own car.

It was mainly to not raise any suspicion, if you were seen driving with any man that wasn’t your husband word would spread before you managed to make it to the party. You were absentmindedly playing with your ring, twirling the obnoxiously large diamond with your other fingers. It was a habit you picked up whenever you tended to wear jewelry, though it was much better than picking at your cuticles.

“You feeling alright hun?” Simon glanced over at you, though his own nerves were shot, he wanted you to feel comfortable.

“A little nervous, but that’s to be expected considering the circumstances.” You kept twirling the ring, glancing between Simon and the road ahead of you.

Simon took a quick breath and grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together without skipping a beat or taking his eyes off the road. You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face, you had been waiting to see how long it took before he finally felt comfortable around you. You’d need to practice around everyone else if you were going to look natural around a bunch of strangers. Everything was going to be just fine, you were sure of it.

John had set up everything in the hotel room, along with hanging up your dress and Simon’s tux to help steam out any wrinkles if needed. So far there was nothing to worry about, save for Soap acting like a little shit and pranking Simon and Kyle for the most part. You’d all settled in, changing into comfortable clothes and ordering food so that you wouldn’t have to leave. Simon was cleaning up the kitchen so he could sit down and enjoy dinner with you.

“Do you need any help?” You walked over to him, pressing your hand against his lower back.

“Nah, just need to finish cleaning this plate and we can eat.” Simon smiled at you, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Whatever you say.” You patted his back gently, heading over to the small kitchen table.

Johnny raised a brow at how you and Simon seemed to naturally work with one another, he didn’t want to raise any suspicion. Kyle on the other hand was ignoring him entirely, digging into his own meal and scrolling through his phone. Simon had finally finished, grabbing his plate of food and heading over to sit with you. He could faintly hear that you were both discussing the mission and going over your alias’ one last time.

“Simon, you need to wear your ring.” You’d gotten on his case the entire day, he kept taking it off complaining that it felt weird to wear it.

“I’ll wear it during the mission tomorrow.” Simon brough the fork to his mouth, focusing on his plate rather than your raised brow.

“You say that now, but when we end up leaving you’re going to forget it and then we’re going to have to drive all the way back because you won’t wear your ring.” You had put yours on right away, mainly because you were forgetful and didn’t want to end up forgetting it.

“Are you really going to make me wear the ring all night?” Simon’s expression would normally terrify a recruit, but you’d gotten used to it.

“If I want to make sure you have your ring on? Yes, I’m going to make you wear your ring until we get back on that plane and go back home.” You’d glue it on if need be, but Simon knew better than to disobey orders.

John chuckled to himself watching the two of you, it was a dynamic he hadn’t seen in quite a while and it was pretty funny to witness. Johnny on the other hand was now even more flabbergasted at the way you worked together. Why did you seem so comfortable arguing with a man who’d killed for less? This was something sinister and it unnerved him to no end, he’d get to the bottom of this.

You’d offered to clean up everyone’s dinner dishes, carefully cleaning any knives before laying them on a towel to be dried by Simon. He walked over to where you were, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull your bodies flush together. Johnny’s jaw dropped open as he slapped Kyle’s arm to get his attention. The playful bickering was one thing, but watching Simon the Ghost Riley be so affectionate? 

“Damn, he’s a good actor.” Kyle watched the way you and Simon began to sway gently, giggling at something he’d whispered into your ear.

“Scarily good, didn’t think he had it in ‘em.” Johnny shook his head, turning back towards the computer in front of him.

It wasn’t until the sound of someone kissing caught their attention once more. Simon had dipped you, lips pressed against yours as his arms wrapped around your waist. Johnny’s jaw dropped wide open, well if you weren’t together already that was surely going to change. You pressed your hands against Simon’s chest, laughing happily as you stared up at him.

“Cap, do ya think Lt and the medic are gonna get together after all this?” Johnny had high hopes, no one gets kissed the way Simon kissed you and simply part ways.

“What’re you talking about?” John barely lifted his gaze from the screen, typing up the pre mission notes to help catch up on them before.

“Simon’s practically tonguing the medic! He’s gonna woo her.” He waggled his brows at the older man, cackling when John rolled his eyes.

“Oh, yeah that’s not gonna happen.” John’s attention focused back on the task at hand.

Johnny’s laughing abruptly halted, what the hell had he meant that Simon wasn’t going to woo the medic, it was obvious! Clearly John had no idea what he was talking about, Johnny could see the little twinkle in your eye from across the room.

“Gaz, am I wrong or do ye think Ghost and medic are gonna end up together?” He was determined to get someone to agree with him.

“Oh, if they don’t I’m asking for her number for him.” Kyle may have had a slight crush on you, not that he’d ever admit it.

John sat upright in his chair, focusing on Johnny and Kyle who thought they were being more subtle than they actually were.

“Have you ever looked at their name tag by chance?” John wanted to see if the other two would finally catch on.

Both Johnny and Kyle shook their heads, neither of them had a reason to over analyze your name tag when they had injuries to be taken care of. He sighed softly to himself before glancing over to you and Simon. You were laughing at some bad joke Simon had whispered to you, a bright smile on his face.

“Her last name is Riley.” John watched as realization dawned on their faces.

You’d been married this entire time and no one, besides Price, was none the wiser. How the hell had you managed to keep it hidden from everyone? Then again Simon wasn’t the most overly friendly or affectionate when it came to anyone. You were his wife though, that was different! Surely you could bring out a different side of him, something that no one usually got to…of course.

“Would’ve been nice to know at least.” Johnny shrugged off his disappointment, this was a big thing to keep hidden away.

“It wasn’t my place to tell, just remember that.” John wanted to respect your privacy, it was the least he could do considering your line of work.

Johnny and Kyle understood why Price hadn’t admitted to questions about your relationship, but knowing the truth? It felt good. They watched the way you and Simon danced to the music playing from your phone. Simon’s arms were wrapped around your waist, pressing kisses all over your face as you tried to squirm away. It was a side of their teammate they’d never thought to see, and no one outside of this hotel room would ever get to see it.

At least, not until after the mission of course.

tagging: @gaylemonshark

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #simon riley fluff #simon riley fic #simon riley fanfic #john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kate laswell

[theonotti]

THAT FINAL NIGHT | OS | t.n.

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!reader!Riddle

Word Count: 8k

Summary: Ten years after the Battle of Hogwarts. Theodore Nott is out of Azkaban. And after years and years of being apart, he's finally ready for the reunion he's been waiting on.

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, kind of angsty, kinda fluffy, pining, Modern AU where i moved up the battle so 10 years later is more present day

Notes: This is my first full Theo fic, please let me know what you think!

“Guess who’s in town.”

Theo hums thoughtfully while he sets the heavy box in his arms down on the counter, ripping the tape off.

“Oprah.”

Mattheo rolls his eyes.

“Try again.”

“The Queen.”

“The dead one?”

“Right. Forgot about that.”

Mattheo laughs, shaking his head as he grabs a rag and a spray bottle to wipe off the bar top.

“Got any other foolish guesses?” He asks. Theo pauses, feigning thought before shaking his head and resuming his work.

“Fresh out, I’m afraid.”

Theo grabs a pair of bottles from the open box then turns towards the shelves behind him. His back aches from the amount of moving he’s had to do. Running heavy boxes from his truck to the stockroom. Bending down while doing inventory. At the ripe age of 27, his back just isn’t what it used to be, and is in far worse shape than most men his senior.

Mattheo glances down at the bar briefly, the humor slowly fading from his expression, before he looks back up at his best friend.

“My sister.”

The bottle shatters as it hits the floor.

Theo jumps, not realizing one of the bottles had slipped from his hand until it was too late. Mattheo stares as Theo begins to clean up his mess, although if he notices that it happening right when his sister was mentioned is more than a coincidence, he doesn’t comment on it.

“Erm… What's she doing in town?” Theo asks casually as he kneels down with the broom and dustpan.

“Her and that rat, McLaggen, are finally getting divorced. She’s staying with me for a while.”

The room starts to swelter. Theo nods, trying to play off his sigh as one of sympathy rather than relief. Standing with the dustpan full of glass, he dumps the remains of the bottle into one of the other empty boxes he made while stocking before putting the cleaning supplies away. His hands slide into his pockets to wipe the sweat from his palms.

“How… how’s she handling it?”

This makes Mattheo pause. He glances up at his oldest friend, his look a mix of thoughtful and confused.

“She’s weirdly… calm about it,” He explains in a slow voice. “I think their marriage ended a long time ago, and she’s had time to mourn it before actually sticking the knife in it.”

The thought of you being miserable for that long before taking the plunge to leave sends Theo’s heart into a sadness he can’t explain. He looks away from Mattheo, trying to rationalize his thoughts before speaking again. Fortunately for him, Mattheo pipes up again before he has the chance.

“She’ll be at Malfoy’s party on Saturday. She can meet a new bloke there.”

A smile tugs at the corners of Theo’s mouth, but not over his friend’s cheeky remark.

“You’d rather her hook up with someone who aligns with Draco Malfoy?” Theo dares to ask as he looks back at the curly haired man next to him.

A beat passes.

“You’re right. She’s actually banned from the premises.”

A hearty laugh escapes Theo’s mouth as he turns away from Mattheo, although he could hear the seriousness in his friend’s tone behind the joke.

“Remind me… what did she see in McLaggen again?” Theo asks as he begins to fill the shelves behind the counter with the bottles he managed not to break. Mattheo sighs in exasperation, slapping the towel against the top of the bar.

“Fuck if I know,” Mattheo mumbles. “I asked her over and over how she could marry that creep. I think that’s why she stopped phoning, honestly.”

Theo raises his eyebrows only briefly, although with his back to Mattheo, it’s a look only expressed to himself. Mattheo Riddle, for as long as Theo can remember, has always been the over protective brother first and foremost. The relationship he holds with you is still his most important one, and Theo knows better than anyone how seriously Mattheo takes that. Their entire tenure at Hogwarts, Mattheo watched over you like a hawk, keeping the dusty boys who dared to crush on you in their place. The fact that McLaggen, of all people, was able to slip through the cracks the second Mattheo and Theo were gone was a pain that haunted Mattheo for years. And though it was for completely different reasons, it haunted Theo too.

“Are you going to punch the first man who talks to her? For old times sake?” Theo asks, trying to bite back a smirk.

Mattheo laughs loudly, shaking his head.

“I’ve grown since our time at Hogwarts,” He defends himself. “I won’t punch them if they just talk to her…” He pauses, a thoughtful look on his face. “Now, if they look at her? Dead man walking.”

Theo shakes his head.

The room grows quiet as the two men continue to work. Theo’s mind wanders as he puts the stock away. When was the last time he saw you? Damn near a decade ago. It was the night of the battle. A few bottles of fire whiskeys had been procured, thanks to Mattheo and his mysterious ways of smuggling contraband into the school. It was the first get-together like this that they’d had in a long time… and, unbeknownst to them, it would be the last.

~

“There’s not enough fire whiskey in the world to make me go down those stairs with Theo.”

“You worried you’ll fall in love with him, Riddle?”

“I’m worried he’ll actually try to kiss me, is what I’m worried about.”

Theo laughed as he took another swig from the bottle, before saying, “In your dreams, Riddle.”

The group erupted with laughter as they sat in a circle on the upper balcony of the Astronomy Tower. Blaise, Daphne, Astoria, Pansy, and even Malfoy were all taking part. It was pretty late, but with the Death Eaters having their hold on Hogwarts, the Riddle heirs were given free reign, subsequently meaning their friends were given the same treatment. Which is why it was so easy for Mattheo to procure two bottles of fire whiskey, one of which already completely gone.

Theo’s stoic nature had been greatly diminished by the alcohol, his head swirling just enough to make him feel light and calm. Despite the juvenile feeling it gave him, the game of Seven Minutes in Heaven that started once the first bottle had emptied was quite entertaining, and had grown even more so when Mattheo took the last turn, and the bottle landed on none other than Theo.

“You know the rules, Mattheo.” Your voice sounded like honey when you chimed in from across the circle, sitting next to Pansy with your legs sprawled out in front of you. “You either have to go to the lower level with our friend Teddy here-“ Theo looked down at the ground, trying to hide his reaction to your nickname for him. “-Or you have to drink.”

Mattheo didn’t hesitate before snatching the bottle that still had liquor in it right out of Theo’s hand and putting the end to his mouth, dramatically throwing his head backwards. One, two, three giant gulps went down Mattheo’s throat, not a flinch in sight as he set it back down with a pleased look on his face.

“Don’t drink all of it, Matty,” Astoria pouted, reaching over and snatching the bottle from his grasp. Theo looked over at you, meeting your eyes at the exact moment that you looked over at him. Raising your hand, you pointed to your mouth and made a puke face. He bit back a smile before looking away from you.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Nott,” Mattheo said, ignoring Astoria’s comment as he nodded towards the empty bottle in the middle to indicate his friend’s turn at the game. Theo rolled his eyes as he leaned forward.

“I’d snog sandpaper before I’d let your cracked lips anywhere near mine.”

With a flick of his wrist, he sent the bottle spinning. The look on Theo’s face read nonchalance, but that didn’t match up with the pounding in his chest. It felt like he could hear the second hand of the clock tower ticking in the distance, though he knew it was too far away for him to actually hear it. As the bottle began to slow, Theo bit the inside of his cheek, and when it came to a stop, his teeth almost clamped down entirely.

You.

The universe and Merlin himself came together and had the bottle land on you.

Theo could feel his cheeks burning, not moving a muscle as his eyes trailed to Mattheo. The humor had completely drained from his curly haired friend’s face.

“Re-spin, Theo.”

Theo didn’t even have time to process Mattheo’s words, let alone answer, before you were already turning to face him.

“Why ask me to play if I can’t participate?”

This made Theo’s cheeks burn more, though no one could notice, their attention being on the altercation brewing between Mattheo and you.

“Because you’d bitch about it if I didn’t.”

“And you didn’t think I’d bitch about you bitching about me participating?”

Mattheo said nothing to his sister, instead turning his fierce gaze back to Theo.

“I’ll cut your fucking eyes out if you even think about it, Nott.”

As Theo opened his mouth to respond, you pushed yourself off the floor. The look on your face could be read as many different things; Defiance, anger, annoyance. But one thing was clear- you were not allowing Mattheo to have the final say.

“Come on, Theo.”

You put your hand out towards him. The conflict in his chest was rising rapidly as everyone stared at him, waiting for him to make his decision. Only two of those sets of eyes brought him the anxiety that coursed through him. The last thing he wanted to do was piss off Mattheo.

But he knew his choice before he even knew he had to make one. As soon as the bottle came to a stop, the deal was signed.

Reaching up, he took your hand and allowed you to pull him to his feet. Mattheo’s face was filled with a mix of rage and surprise as he watched you lead Theo away from the group.

“You better keep your fucking hands to yourself, Nott.”

“No promises, Matty,” You sneered without looking at Mattheo, as your foot hit the first step down. Theo’s eyes drifted to look over the railing that paralleled the stairs as the two of you began to descend, overlooking the castle and the Black Lake in the distance. His heart was in his throat once his feet reached the wooden floor.

The lower level of the balcony was used as storage. Surrounding the outer edges were fixtures covered in sheets that were held down with rope, presumably statues and pieces of furniture. Other miscellaneous things were also scattered around, such as a two seater bench that was split in two, a random assortment of stools, and abandoned cauldrons. In the middle of the ceiling was a glass globe fixture, the bottom half on the lower level while the top was displayed on the upper level. Along it was a metal lining that didn’t quite reach the walls, meaning there was enough of an opening for people to look down. When Theo looked up, he saw multiple sets of eyes staring down into the lower level, one of which was accompanied by angry shouts at him to Know your place, Nott and Don’t even think about it. Not a word could be said about it before you were flicking your wand in its direction. A flash of light flashed through the room, and suddenly, Theo couldn’t look through the openings anymore. Turning, you did the same to the staircase.

Theo looked at you in awe.

“Since when can you cast spells without speaking?”

You shrugged, as if it were a completely benign thing.

“I’ve been practicing.”

Theo stuffed his hands in his pockets as you sat down on a spare table off to the side. It was impossible for him not to look at you like you had just put the stars in the sky, but hell did he try not to.

“Maybe you should’ve been in Ravenclaw,” He commented, causing you to roll your eyes.

“You think I’d ever hear the end of it from that one?” You pointed to the ceiling, where loud footsteps and even louder voices could be heard from the other side. Theo laughed at this, his head craning backwards.

“I think you’d have killed him before finishing out first year, if that were the case.”

The tension in the air was palpable. Was it from Mattheo’s anger? Or Theo’s feelings? It was hard to say, but he found himself wondering if you felt it too. Before he could think too much about it, you spoke again.

“Sometimes I wish I had gotten put in another house, though. Instead of Slytherin.”

Theo froze. Of anything you could’ve possibly said, he never would’ve suspected… Well, that.

“Why?” He asked, tone soft.

You looked down at your hands, mindlessly pinching at your skin.

“It would make me think I was made for more than what my family has planned for me.” You sighed as your gaze met Theo once more. “I never wanted any of this. The special treatment from the Death Eaters and the constant fear. I don’t want it.”

Eyes narrowing slightly, Theo mulled over your words.

“Why would you, the daughter of Lord Voldemort, have anything to fear?”

You sat up a little straighter, pressing your lips together in a thin line.

“I know you’ve been working for him.”

Theo swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

A beat passed.

“Didn’t I?”

You scooted down the table so now your feet touched the floor, more leaning on it than sitting, folding your hands in front of you. Theo’s eyes never left you as he studied your every move. The heat from your stare was making his palms sweat.

“You promised me you wouldn’t,” You reminded him. He closed his eyes. How could such a quiet part of the castle suddenly feel so loud? He couldn’t do this with you. Not right now. You wouldn’t understand.

“My father wanted me to become… acquainted with the family business,” He explained slowly. This didn’t seem to appease you.

“You could’ve talked to me. I would’ve figured something out,” You said. Was that annoyance in your voice? Or something else? “Maybe my father doesn’t take Mattheo seriously but he would’ve listened to me if I asked him not to send you on errands.”

Theo shook his head, his eyes drifting to the floor just briefly. “It’s too late now.”

The words hung in the air for a moment too long. Theo watched as a thought seemed to pop into your head, the expression on your face changing from mildly frustrated to downright terror. You slowly pushed away from the table. There was something about the way you were looking at him, with your lips slightly parted and your eyes filled with confusion, that made him feel sick.

“Theo… did you take the Mark?”

~

The Christmas party is too reminiscent of one of the Slytherin common room parties. The music is too loud. The people are too drunk. And Theo is too fucking old for this.

He squeezes down a random hallway of Malfoy Manor, narrowly missing Blaise Zabini and Luna Lovegood as they make out against the wall. Try he does to not give them a passing glance, albeit a confused one, but radically does he fail.

Time really is a funny thing, He thinks to himself. Changes people in ways no one could ever understand.

Theo’s arrival at the party was as anticlimactic as he wanted it to be. In the hour since he walked through the door, he can count on less than ten fingers how many familiar faces he saw, and he only needed one hand to count how many people he’s spoken to.

Though Draco is the only Malfoy living in the mansion now, save his wife, it still looks exactly the same as it did when they were kids. Theo remembers the summers away from Hogwarts spent roaming these halls with Draco, Mattheo and you. The weeks and weeks at a time spent here after his mother died and his father made it clear he didn’t understand how to be a father. If it weren’t for Narcissa Malfoy, Theo can’t imagine the man he would be now. He feels it in his heart every time he walks by a picture of her, her tender eyes and sweet smile looking back at him. The closest thing to a mother he ever had.

You should write to her more, He thinks to himself.

Theo enters the kitchen, with his hand almost on the knob of the back door, when a voice stops him.

“Theodore Nott! Hi!”

He turns to find Astoria Greengr- Malfoy looking at him with a wide smile. It hasn’t been too long since he had last seen her, although it’s enough time for her to have a swollen pregnant belly this go around. Her wedding to Malfoy was small and rushed, as it wasn’t long after him, Theo and Mattheo had returned from their time away, but her smile is the same now as it was that day.

She waddles up to Theo, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he plants a quick kiss on her cheek.

“You alright, Tori?” His voice is gentle in a way that it never was with Astoria. It has to be the pregnancy causing him to be nicer. The fact remains that he and Astoria historically never got along, and while he would never outwardly be mean to her, especially now as the wife of one of his best mates, he didn’t go out of his way to be nice to her, either. Which is why at the wedding, he didn’t intentionally avoid her that entire evening. He just simply didn’t go out of his way to speak to her. The wad of cash he left in an envelope on the gift table that evening spoke for itself, in his humble opinion.

Astoria shrugs casually, before saying, “Just running around, as usual. What have you been up to since-“ She cuts off, swallowing as the smile on her face falters ever so slightly. It’s obvious to anyone what she was about to say and even more so that it was meant to remain a thought in her head and never pass her lips. But it’s too late for that now, as the ghost of the words unsaid still hang in the air above them. Theo sighs as he turns to the kitchen island, which is buried in alcohol bottles, and begins to pour himself a drink. A strong one.

“You can say it, Tori.”

She still hesitates before it comes out in a barely audible whisper.

“Since Azkaban?”

There it is.

Theo doesn’t even blink. The word is so casual to him now, so recurrent in his daily thoughts that it’s almost chronic. Though, his teeth still grow cold as the memories of the brutally cold air flood through him.

“Oh, you know,” He manages to answer. “Mattheo and I started the bar in Hogsmeade. I’m sure you heard all about that. Have a cottage now, not too far from there.” He hums in thought. “Got a cat. She’s a bloody shit, but I love her.”

All of this seems to surprise Astoria, and Theo didn’t blame her. He wasn’t the same boy she knew back at Hogwarts. He never would be again. All of the fire and fight that he had back then was snuffed out in the years he was locked away. Now, some days it feels like he is a shell of his former self.

“What’s her name? Your cat?”

Theo smiles brightly, as if he was being asked about his own child.

“Crisp.”

Astoria stifles a laugh.

“Crisp?”

“She’s a black cat, so she looks like she’s... burnt to a crisp.”

Astoria pauses for a second before breaking into a smile and laughing out loud, the sound filling the kitchen. It gives Theo deja vu, reminding him of the days in the common room where he’d hear it and cringe. The thought makes him feel a little bad. Only a little though.

“That’s funny,” She remarks, still coming down from the high of it as she carefully wipes her eyes. Theo smiles politely, glancing at the back door before turning back to Astoria. What the hell does he say now? He already knows what’s going on with her. It’s popping out of her dress.

“Erm… Is Mattheo here yet?”

Astoria perks up at the sound of his best friend’s name, her eye developing a twinkle that wasn’t there before. Something about it makes Theo a little sad. Though her love for Draco was true, Astoria always held a torch for Mattheo. Everyone knew it. Even Draco, who still ended up marrying her in the end. Mattheo just never felt the same pull to Astoria that she felt for him. And though he never talked about it with Theo, he couldn’t help but wonder if that thought ever made Mattheo feel guilty.

Just as quick as it came, the spark in Astoria’s eye disappears and is replaced with… something Theo can’t quite place.

“They’ll be here any minute,” Astoria finally answers with a slight smirk. Theo feels his heart swell. The use of they instead of he was not lost on him.

Nodding, Theo turns his body toward the back door, his gaze still on Astoria.

“Good talking to you, Tori.”

She gives him a look, another one that he just can’t read, which is starting to frustrate him, before smiling softly at him.

“I’ll send erm… Mattheo your way when he gets here.”

He nods once more, giving her a final half cooked smile before letting himself out into the back courtyard.

The circular courtyard is centered with a large fountain, the centerpiece being a dragon. Shrubbery and flowers of different shapes and sizes line the edges. Theo walks the pebbled pathways with the same familiarity that he would walk the Hogwarts grounds. He knows every turn, every bench, every scuff mark on the brick walls like the back of his hands. As he sips on his drink, he finds himself reminiscing on the reverie of being a young kid, running down these same paths with his closest friends. So many memories made on this very plot of land. Mattheo falling and cracking his head on the side of the fountain and Draco trying to use a spell to fix it, only to make it worse. Theo picking the roses off one of the many rose bushes to give to you, then the scolding he received after. All of the cigarette butts that he and Mattheo were forced to clean up when Narcissa would discover them. Probably thousands of cigarette butts between the two of them. But they never learned to find a container for them. It seems like it was a whole lifetime ago. Maybe it was.

Theo passes beyond the shrubbery to walk the trails that line the estate. It never gets old, walking through the pine trees. Muscle memory carries his legs towards his favorite spot on the whole lot. He tries to remember the last time he’d walked this route, but he can’t. Which means it’s been too long.

The bench comes into view, the huge oak tree still standing guard behind it. If the sun was out, it would provide the perfect shade, regardless of the time of day. Surrounding it are multiple rose bushes, a Narcissa Malfoy addition. Theo used to spend many hours at this bench, reading or losing himself in thought. It has always been a sanctuary to him, even now, after all these years.

Sitting down, he inhales slowly before letting it out in a long drawl. Being here again feels like coming home for the first time since his release from Azkaban. There’s only one thing that could make it perfect…

Damn, I wish I had a cigarette, He finds himself thinking.

Okay, maybe two things could make it perfect.

“Thought I’d find you out here.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight.

He would’ve never expected the sight of you to be accompanied by the smell of cigarettes, yet here you are, slowly walking down the path with a freshly lit smoke in your hand. A slight smile fills your cheeks as you look at him.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The word runs through his brain like a news headline on the television. It never occurred to him that you could get more stunning. The familiar feeling of his palms growing sweaty hits him, and he instinctively wipes them on his jeans.

“Since when do you smoke?”

You take a long drag, holding your breath before blowing a cloud into the air above you. In the back of Theo’s brain is the sound of you relentlessly nagging him to quit, a treatment you curiously only saved for him and did not share with your brother.

“D’you want to hear something silly?” You ask him. He shrugs, a smile tugging at his lips. You tilt your head to the side, your eyes jumping up to the night sky. “I found myself missing it. The smell. Can you believe that?”

A laugh bursts from Theo’s chest.

“No,” He admits. “With the way you went on about it? If you weren’t smoking in front of me right now, I would never believe you.”

Shaking your head, smiling, you slowly make your way towards him.

“Mattheo was so angry when he found out,” You say. “And he, apparently, is smoke free now. I’m not even allowed to smoke near him. After all the years he was perfectly fine with giving me secondhand lung cancer!” You roll your eyes. “I only smoke every once in a while, though. Nothing like the two of you did, fucking chimneys.”

Theo stands as you approach the bench, his hands in his pocket. You waste no time before you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. As he snakes his arms around your torso, his eyes flutter shut. You smell exactly the same, save for the new addition of the cigarette smoke. And you still make his stomach turn with every touch. He kisses the side of your head before pulling away, unable to contain the smile that forces its way across his cheeks.

“You weren’t at the wedding.”

Pursing your lips, you look away from him.

“I, unfortunately, was otherwise engaged.”

There’s something cryptic behind your words, and it doesn’t sit well with him.

“What does that mean?” He asks. From his recollection, even Mattheo didn’t know why you had bailed on such an important event. Being one of his longest friends, Draco was distraught by your absence.

“It means that I don’t want to tell you why I couldn’t go,” You inform him. His eyes narrow slightly.

“And why’s that?”

“Because you’ll be angry. And I’m not interested in starting our reunion out that way.”

A cool breeze blows through the air, but Theo isn’t convinced that it’s the cause of the chill that flows through him.

“How do you know I’ll be angry?” He questions, although hesitantly. You give him a look.

“Because I know you. You’ve been my brother’s best friend for as long as I can remember. I could be blindfolded and still pick you out just by the sound of your breathing. And I know what will make you mad.” You take another drag of the cigarette, the smoke filling the air with your sigh. “This will.”

The debate in Theo’s head is intense. On one hand, with how cryptic you’re being, he wants to know what the reason was. Just the way you said it has a fire flaring in his chest. But on the other hand, you're right. He’d rather not plague the reunion that he’s been thinking about for the last decade with anger. Not when he doesn’t have to. Not while you’re looking at him like that, with a warm smile and even warmer gaze. Before he has the chance to decide how to go forward, you make the choice for him.

“Let me take a look at you,” You say, taking a step back and looking him up and down. Internally, Theo prays that his cheeks don’t reflect on the outside the heat they feel on the inside, as your eyes trail from the top of his head to his feet.

“You still look like my Theo. Except for this.” Stepping forward, you bring a hand to his left cheek, your fingers resting on his jaw as your thumb grazes the beard growing on his face. Theo holds his breath, because he knows if he exhales, you’ll hear the shudder. When you let your hand drop, left behind is the feeling of ice where your warm fingertips had been. You shake your head. “Certainly don’t look like an ex-convict.”

Theo’s next words leave his mouth before he has time to think them through.

“You certainly don’t look like a newly divorced woman.”

As soon as the words enter the atmosphere, Theo’s face falls, and he wants to insert his foot in his mouth. It wasn’t meant to be the insult it sounded like when he said it. But to his astonishment, you just smile, looking up at the sky as you shake your head.

“It was never going to last with Cormac,” You tell him. “Our divorce was written in the stars. I knew that. I don’t know if he knew that, but I did.”

Theo’s gaze drifts to the ground before looking back up at you. The question he wants to ask is running on repeat in his mind, as he goes back and forth on whether or not to even say it.

Fuck it.

“Why did you marry him?”

You flinch slightly, to Theo’s dismay. The last thing he ever wants is to hurt you. At the same time, he went all these years wondering how someone like you could be with someone like Cormac Fucking McLaggen, the same Cormac Fucking McLaggen that you and him spent hours and hours collectively making fun of back in school, and he couldn’t go without finding out any longer.

“He was there and-“ You stop abruptly, closing your eyes briefly before opening them again. He can practically see you rearranging your thoughts. “And no one else was.”

Theo raises an eyebrow.

“You didn’t think you deserved or could find anyone better?”

You laugh suddenly, confusing Theo, before you respond.

“I knew I could find someone better,” You say. “He was just intended to be… a placeholder. Just to pass the time.” You sigh. “He ended up being a shitty placeholder, and more work than was necessary. That was my fault. I got complacent.”

The more you explain yourself, the more Theo grows confused. He wants to yell at you, to tell you to just say what you mean. But he doesn’t.

“A placeholder?” He asks quietly. “What the bloody hell does that mean?”

For a moment, you don’t say anything, taking another drag from your cigarette and blowing the smoke into the air. Theo watches you, so tempted to ask you for one, but he’s so wrapped up in the conversation that he can barely breathe, let alone speak.

“It means he was there, I was lonely and I was waiting for something better.”

Theo’s eyes are fixed on every move you make, his whole body turning to watch you sit down on the bench. As he tries to sort through his racing thoughts to find a coherent one, you take another drag of the cigarette, looking around at the roses. He takes a seat to the right of you.

“What were you waiting for?”

You don’t answer as you turn to look at him. Just the look on your face drives Theo crazy. Not once would he ever say that you remind him of your father, but your ability to move through a conversation with ease and manipulation is uncanny. He’s convinced that the word discomfort isn’t in your vocabulary. If a topic comes up that you don’t want to talk about, you simply twist the conversation back to exactly where you want it to be. And Theo, a person who knows you better than most, can tell just by the way you’re looking at him right now that you’re about to do what you do best. And he’s going to let you.

It’s the way you do it this time around, however, that comes as a surprise.

Your gaze drops to his left arm at his side, his hand resting on his knee. With a delicate touch, you reach over and take it between your fingers, slowly rising the sleeve up his arm as Theo, once again, forgets how to breathe entirely.

~

“I won’t ask you again, Theodore. Did you take the Dark Mark?”

The sound of his full name coming out of your mouth made his heart stop. Theo swallowed hard, whispering your name under his breath so quietly that a gust of wind could’ve drowned it out.

You charged towards him, grabbing his arm and yanking up the sleeve of his hoodie before he could even process that you had moved. There, in its glory, was the fresh mark, branded so recently that the skin surrounding it was still tender.

A strangled whimper escaped your mouth before you forcibly threw Theo’s arm away from you, as if it had burned you. Covering your mouth, you turned away from him, taking a couple of steps towards the table you had been sitting on only moments before. Nausea overwhelmed Theo as he stared at you. He followed your footsteps and reached out for your arm, only to have it yanked back the moment his fingers curled around your bicep. The gesture sent a ripple of pain through Theo’s chest.

“Please let me explain-“

“How could you do this!?” You shouted, whipping around to face him. The sight of the tears streaming down your face shredded his heart more than your words ever could. “We talked about this, Theo. I told you not to take the mark. Not to waste your life. How could you do this to yourself? Hell, how could you do this to me?”

I can’t do this, Theo thought to himself. I can’t.

The way your eyes were a careful mix of anger and devastation was too much for Theo. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to make you stop looking at him like that, and it was very rare for him to want you to stop looking at him at all. But he knew that the one thing that could make you relax once again was the one thing he couldn’t give you. He took another step towards you, saying your name again. When you took a step backwards, he felt like the floor was going to open up and swallow him whole.

“This is more than getting acquainted with the family business!” Your chest heaved as you spoke. “This is getting integrated.”

“I have just as much ability to say no to my father as you and Mattheo have to say no to yours!” He shouted desperately. “There was nothing I could do. You, of all people, have to understand.”

You vigorously shook your head. “No, Theo. I don’t. I would’ve done anything to stop this from happening.” The pain that dripped from your words was splattered on your face. Theo wanted to throw up just looking at your expression, each word feeling like another punch to the face.

“What would you have wanted me to do?” He asked, his voice now level but strained while taking another step forward. “Tell me. Tell me what you would have had me do.”

Your eyes were wide and filled with fear. Another cold breeze came through the cracks in the balcony walls. Instead of taking a step back when Theo stepped forward, you stood still, staring up at him as your chest continued to heavily rise and fall.

“Anything.” Your voice was a coarse whisper. “Literally anything else.”

“I didn’t have a choice!” He didn’t mean to shout at you again, but his head felt so foggy from the whole thing, he couldn’t think straight. The sadness in your eyes was destroying him in ways he would never understand.

“There’s always a fucking choice!” You shouted back.

“I-“

Theo was quickly cut off but your rapid speaking.

“We could’ve run. We could’ve fled together. Just you and me. Anywhere. Maybe to Italy so you could be close to the memory of your mother. Or to somewhere totally new, like Brazil. Or Japan. We could’ve escaped this together if you had given me the chance to help you. To save you.”

It would’ve hurt less if you had actually cut his chest open and ripped his heart out with your bare hands instead of doing it figuratively like you just had. He let out a shaky breath, his entire body going stiff.

“You don’t mean that,” He said quietly. “Just leave Mattheo? And your fam-“

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t mean, Theodore.”

He flinched at the subsequent use of his full first name.

Theo stood frozen as he watched you press your hand over your eyes, inhaling deeply before letting it out just as hard. Your warm breath turned into a cloud of steam dissipating in front of you from the cold air. He took another step towards you, the distance dwindling.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” He said softly. The pleading in his tone could be heard for miles.

You stood silent for a long time, your hand covering your eyes. With every passing moment where you didn’t speak, Theo grew more anxious. The silence between the two of you was just as loud as if you were screaming at the top of your lungs. But if Theo was being honest with himself, he’d rather you scream and shout at him. That's what he was used to. But the stunned silence? This was something that, in all the years of knowing and learning everything he could about you, he had never seen. It was too much for him to bear.

When he whispered your name again, you shook your head. The motion caused a pain in his chest so severe that he worried his heart would stop entirely. In a daring moment, he took a step forward, delicately pulling your hand from your face and tilting your head upwards to look at him.

“Please.” Theo did nothing to hide the pain and desperation in his tone. His hands moved to cradle your cheeks. “Please tell me what to do. And I’ll do it.”

Your eyes were wide as you stared into his. The world seemed to screech to a halt at this moment. The wind that had been haunting the balcony for the entire night stilled. The crickets went dead quiet. Theo’s thumbs stroked the skin of either side of your face.

Against his better judgment, despite the severity of the situation he and you find yourselves in, the proximity to you caused his eyes to instinctively jump down to your mouth.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw you do the same.

As you opened your mouth to speak, an overwhelming pain radiated through Theo’s left arm. His hands dropped from your face as he stepped backwards, blowing out a hiss through his teeth as he gripped his forearm tightly. Your mouth pressed into a firm line, as you understood before he did what was about to happen. The noises from upstairs picked up again at the same moment, and in the distance, Theo could hear his name being shouted.

You quickly turned with your wand, removing the barrier you had created around the stairs. The shouting instantly grew louder, and suddenly, Mattheo appeared at the top of the steps. The anger he previously had was gone, replaced with another look that sent chills down Theo’s spine.

Fear.

He didn’t regard you at all. His eyes were focused on Theo.

“We have to go.”

Theo swallowed hard as Mattheo stared down at him.

“He’s here.”

~

The deja vu hits Theo hard as you roll his sleeve up.

Though your expression doesn’t change, he can feel the way your fingers relax against his skin when you find that the Mark is nowhere to be seen. Seeing his bare arm brings him great relief as well, even though he’s seen it this way every day since its removal.

“They removed it when we got to Azkaban,” He explains quietly. “They thought we could communicate through it or something.”

Your thumb trails up and down his skin in the same area the Mark had been. Theo’s eyes are glued to the motion, following your movements.

“That night haunted me for years.”

Your words send a chill up his spine so intense that he can’t hide the shiver that ripples through him. Swallowing hard, his eyes jump back to your face, studying your features.

“Me too.”

The sound of the crickets chirping fills the night air, along with the very distant music coming from the manor. Your eyes find Theo’s again, although your hand doesn’t let go of his arm.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” You say, voice quiet, yet not quite a whisper. “If I had known what was about to happen, and that it could’ve been our last interaction, I wouldn’t have acted the way I did.”

“If anyone should be sorry, it should be me.”

You give him a look.

“Please. Don’t. I didn’t understand then, but I understand now.”

Theo glances down at your hand on his arm, pulling away so he can in turn take your fingers in his. The two of you look down as Theo turns your fingers around in his hands, as if he’s examining them.

“If you knew then what was about to happen…” You asked slowly. “What would you have done differently?”

Theo’s face grows warm.

“Honestly?”

Though his gaze stays cast downwards, he can still feel the warmth of yours as it jumps to his face once more.

“Always.”

For a moment, no one moves or speaks. Then, Theo entwines his fingers through the spaces between yours, curling them down so the tips press softly against the dorsal aspect of your hand.

“I would’ve kissed you.”

If your breath didn’t hitch in your throat, Theo would think you didn’t react at all. He glances back up at you, his eyes meeting yours, his thumb running up and down the smooth skin of your hand. What a perfect night for a party, the night of the full moon. The moonlight dimly hits your face but it’s still enough to make his heart flutter.

“I would’ve let you.”

It takes everything in Theo to not kiss you right there. The moment he has been waiting all these years for is finally here, dropped in his lap. But he can only kiss you for the first time once, and it has to be perfect.

Theo glances down at your mouth. It’s just a moment away, and he’s counting down the seconds.

“I would’ve told you that I was in love with you too.”

The shock breaks through your face this time, as Theo squeezes your hand a little tighter.

“I would’ve said the same.”

Nights of dreaming of this moment in his Azkaban cell seem to fill his memory as your words hit Theo like a monsoon. He raises his free hand and brushes the free strands of hair away from your face.

“What about now?” He asks in a soothing whisper. “Would you say the same now?” What shocks him is when you laugh, but he tries not to let it falter his resolve.

“Theo,” You say, the laughter gone but the genuine look of amusement still present. “Why do you think I needed a placeholder?”

A beat passes.

Theo’s lips crash into yours.

And despite having been out of Azkaban for a while now, despite his reunion with his sanctuary at Malfoy Manor, he’s finally, completely, come home.

Every repressed feeling Theo has ever felt in the last decade is surged through the kiss and into you. All of his desperation, his yearning, the fiery love that never got snuffed out. It felt like his heart just knew that he’d see you again, and the love he felt was carefully packed away in a box, left to grow until the reunion had arrived.

The cigarette you had been holding is now forgotten on the pathway. Your hands weave through Theo’s hair as he has one hand on your cheek, the other firmly placed on your hip. The world around you and him is still. Did the crickets go home? Is the party over? All sounds have gone mute, minus the sounds of your quiet hums as Theo’s tongue searches your mouth. You scoot closer to him, your knee going between his in an effort to get as close to him as possible.

“Fucking despicable this is.”

Theo and you jump away from each other, shocked to see Mattheo approaching with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

“Out of everyone in this party, you pick him?” He goes on. “In my opinion, you could do better.”

You scoff.

“Name one person that you’ve ever met who you thought was good enough for me and I’ll chew my wrist off.”

Almost a whole minute passes before Mattheo speaks again.

“Touché.”

Theo bites back a smile. You point at Mattheo before saying, “Wait a minute. You said you don’t smoke anymore!”

Mattheo shrugs as he blows a plume of smoke into the air.

“This party killed that.”

“You arsehole. You gave me such a hard time for doing it.”

“Your excuse was a bloody weak one. ‘I miss the smell’. Shut the fuck up.”

“Forgive me for missing my brother and wanting to feel close to him!”

Mattheo’s gaze slides to Theo, then down to his fingers entwined with yours.

“Yeah. I’m sure you were thinking of me when you

took your first drag.”

You roll your eyes, turning back to Theo as you try and fail to hide the smile on your cheeks. Just the sight of you alone was sending Theo’s heart into overdrive.

Mattheo plops down in the space next to you, letting out a deep sigh.

“Just try to give it some time before you rush off and get married, yeah?” Mattheo says before taking another hit. “Don't come off desperate like our lovely hosts in there.”

“Oh, you’re actually going to keep your mouth shut about me being with a guy this time?” You challenge him. Even Theo looks at his best friend curiously, semi shocked by his response.

“Yeah, I don’t have the energy to give a rat’s fart.”

Your hand still in Theo’s, he feels you give his a squeeze.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

His heart flutters.

He knows what you’re saying without a single word passing your lips.

He repeats the gesture back to you.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Mattheo and you continue to go back and forth as Theo sits by quietly, his thumb stroking the top of your hand. Eyes fluttering closed, he takes a deep breath, soaking in the cool evening air.

This is it.

Home at last.

#theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x you #theo nott x you #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin boys fanfiction

[forbidden-sunlight]

yandere! vox with fem!reader scenario

Warning: obsessive behavior, implied violence, stalking, implied emotional and physical abuse, brief mention of toxic relationship [vox/val], implied brainwashing, knowledge based on spoilers from the first two episodes of the 2024 show and the Hazbin Hotel comics.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your own Internet consumption!

Hey guys, welcome back to another Hazbin Hotel fic, starring Hell's one and only flat-screened overlord, Vox! Special thanks to @isuckatwritingsobenice and @lbcreations-blog for helping me shape up the rough draft of this piece, I can't wait until I get enough time off from work to watch this series! :)

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and let's go live with Vox's broadcast!

The overlord of technology has been in an on-off relationship with Valentino for a while, so any affection Vox has received from the egotistical prick is either a ploy to get him to do whatever he wanted or that the owner of the Porn Studios was in the mood to play the role of a lover before he got bored again. He had a brand and reputation to uphold in Hell, so any word about him and Val being together is kept under tight wraps. No one knows about it except maybe Velvette. God knows how many times the moth demon had wreaked havoc in the fashion designer’s office on the way to his own quarters, red smoke and all.

Of course the one tantrum when the television demon decided to not fight back and just dump Val’s ass because he was sick and tired of the bullshit, it had to happen a week until Velvette’s new clothing line was about to go live. So of course he, the most level-headed one of the Three Vs and the one responsible for the mess, had to clean it up. Yeah, just another fucking day with Val. Fuck his life. 

Anyway, he’s a very busy man managing the other V’s social media networks including his own workload in his own studio. Considering that he’s now single again (at least for the moment), he saw no reason to get involved with anyone else right now unless it was to relieve some of his frustrations…privately. Late one evening and on his third cup of coffee, Vox was going through the applications that responded to Velvette’s newest job post. Same occupation, same shitty pay, but every designer and seamstress in the Pride Ring wanted to work with Hell’s queen of fashion. He was just weeding out the applicants who did not have what his associate wanted in an employee. And he’s doing it because he owed a favor, not because he can’t sleep. That was when Vox saw your resume. 

He skimmed through it, raising an eyebrow in slight interest. It seemed a little embellished…but the credentials were there, at least from what he could see. And you were good-looking, so that is a bonus too. Shrugging his shoulders, he swiped his hand to the right, sending the document to the small electronic pile of Maybe and moved on to the next one. That one immediately got sent to the Rejection pile. 

A few weeks later, he saw you working in Velvette’s studio through the cameras, hunched over a desk and so entirely focused on a sketchpad that you paid no mind to her chewing out to the other designers about their shitty designs for the next collection. 

“You! New Girl!” 

Her peevish voice addressing you was what brought you out of your reverie. Straightening your spine, you turned to her and quickly strode to her. You must have known what she wanted, because you gave her the sketchpad. Velvette flipped through it, eyeing the pages critically until her bloodshot eyes widened in delight, tapping a manicured black nail against it rapidly before dragging you to a mannequin, barking at you to start creating whatever caught her attention. And it was rare for Velvette to be pleased with anyone else’s works except her own. Her creativity is what kept her clothing line at the pinnacle of fashion. You were getting more and more interesting as he began to watch you more throughout the day. Discreetly, of course. Vox would be damned if his associate found out that he’s eyeing one of her employees. 

He saw how dedicated you were to your work, how you thrived under pressure from Velvette instead of crumbling from it and that was when your creativity blossomed into its full potential. But what he admired about you the most is that you were always calm. You never raised your voice at anyone. You always looked at a problem as if you were dissecting it before making a move. Creative thinkers took risks, and so did you. 

But he’s not looking for a relationship. He wants to focus on his work. He wants to make his business thrive and crush any competition who would dare to try and get one up over him. He is annoyed as fuck that you’ve caught his attention and hasn’t done anything to make him want to stop looking at you. Why won’t you leave his mind? Why is he constantly looking through your social media accounts to see what you’re up to and if there is anyone else in your life? Why?

Because he’s fucked. Fuck his life. 

Vox believes that he is the brains behind the Three Vs’ success and how they could not have made it this far without his technology and other businesses. But the truth is that this overlord, the one who commanded over electronics, can be emotionally immature if he is pushed too far. You saw how he acted when Alastor made his comeback, right? If you did, well, you now know that his buttons can be pushed if he isn’t seen or acknowledged by someone. And if you were to ignore him as the Radio Demon did…you better run. 

Because if there is a screen or a camera, he will use it to find you no matter where you are in Hell. There is no doubt that he will jump out of it with a static pop, begging you to give him a chance to prove himself with fat, watery tears falling down his flat-screen face. 

He is an overlord, one of the Three Vs. He is good-looking, charming, a manipulator, a liar, he could use his powers to hypnotize into submission if he really wanted to and runs a successful business. What more could you possibly want when he is obviously the best choice to have as a lover in Hell? Can’t you see? You belong to him!

Taglist

@doc-tooth

@lbcreations-blog

@nixie-writes

@imperfectbloodmoon

@chroniccorvus

@angelltheninth

@hellbornediamonddreams

@riddle-simp

@blackmageoffandoms

@tired-of-life-86

@frenchtoastmafia

@lanxianschoenheit

@riotakire

@quintillion4

If you would like to be tagged in future yandere hazbin x reader fics, please comment on this post here. If you do not comment, then you will not be added on the taglist.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel vox #forbidden-sunlight #yandere vox x reader #fem!reader #ns.fw #cw stalking #tw stalking #tw obsessive behavior #cw obsessive behavior #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere #cw obsession #tw obsession #cw physical abuse #tw physical abuse #cw emotional abuse #tw emotional abuse #hazbin hotel 2024 #cw toxic relationship #tw toxic relationship

[mitsvriii]

“so you just…shift the flour in this?” confusion was evident in his face as aventurine gave the flour shifter’s handle a slight turn, testing it out as if it were a new bicycle’s pedals.

although he had his fair share of sweet treats before, aventurine never had the luxury of making them for himself; or anyone else for that matter. naturally, he jumped at the offer to bake with you despite his slim knowledge about how most desserts were made.

aventurine wasn’t clueless, don’t get him wrong, he simply lacked the necessary time (and some skills) to cook something up as good as you, who had a handful of experience in the cooking ‘business’.

you nodded as you flipped through the cookbook again to make sure you prepared all the necessary ingredients, “makes the flour thinner, takes out clumps.” you glanced up from the book to give him an encouraging look, sliding the bowl of flour over to him. 

aventurine sunk two fingers into the flour, rubbing them together as he took them out as if to test how thick the powder-like substance was. sparing a glance, albeit mischievous, as he tried his best to deal with the flour for you.

feeling something tickle your cheek, you turned and meet aventurine’s gaze as he gave you soft smile, “here.” his left arm wrapped around you to place the flour in front of you.

“thank you-“

a sputter left you as aventurine’s laugh reached your ears as you wiped whatever that was off your face. opening your eyes as you blinked away the excess powder off your eyes, and…

oh my god.

aventurine covered his mouth with his right hand that was tainted white from flour as he tried to cover his laughs with coughs. “i’m-i’m sorry. that wasn’t-“

a sharp gasp was pulled from his lips as you dumped the bowl of flour over his head. “actually, that was very funny”, you finished his sentence off with practiced ease as you dusted your hand off on your apron.

“oh, okay.” the bowl hit the counter as aventurine shook the flour from his hair, creeping up to go snatch up some more of it in his hand from the bag. “i see how it is.”

“if the kitchen gets messy to the point i can’t see the floor, you’re cleaning it up with me”, clutching the countertop’s edge in hand, you moved to try and get on the other side of it as cover.

“of course, love.” a yelp left you as you narrowly ducked the sheet of powder that fell down beside you like a mess of dust that got disturbed. 

as you tried to duck past him to grab flour yourself, he grabbed you up by your waist, holding you in place as he reached over for some himself.

“no-no-“ a shriek released from your throat as aventurine started smothering the flour over your hair, but not close to your hairline so he wouldn’t get any in your eyes.

ignoring the flour-battle you had on, aventurine’s other arm snaked down to grasp your waist, fingers trailing up and down your sides. giggles and short breathed stop’s were piling out of your lips as he continued his onslaught on tickles.

your baking was forgotten as the other ingredients sat out, some of them covered in flour like the two of you. maybe once the two of you had gotten cleaned up you could actually bake something. however, chances of that were about as slim as recovering all of the flour you wasted; although it was for a good cause because desserts or no desserts, you had gotten to see him happy either way.

lazy fic (ew), needed to post something 😓, not proofread

#🍙 - honkai star rail writings #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗ #cringes #another fic i hate 🤧 #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #aventurine fluff #aventurine hsr

[callme-holly]

Can you do a three times the gang almost caught and the one time they did with two dal or steve

But the reader is also a Curtis? Like their sister?

𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭, 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 [𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - i'm so sorry this took so long omg. I'm really trying to be faster but my attention span is so short and I just can't sit down for longer than 10 mins. I will probably also end up writing this sort of fic for Two-bit and Steve too, only bc I have literally nothing for them yet lmaoo. Anyways, hope ya'll enjoy and as always my asks are still open for requests!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 3.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - mild swearing, mentions of fighting

0.1 - more charm than sense 

The Curtis home is unusually quiet; everyone either out or at work. 

The radio plays on low, some commercial station that only seems to play the same ten songs before switching back to the first and replaying them all without end. 

You’re standing in front of the sink, towel in hand, and as you clean up the remnants of breakfast, your brother’s dirty plates are dumped haphazardly atop the counter in a less than neat pile. The water runs clear under your steady hands, and for a moment you forget that you aren’t entirely alone in the house, too focused on cleaning up to notice anything further than the sound of your own breathing and the light static of the radio.

You're so lost in thought that you barely register the lingering presence behind you, only startling once a familiar pair of arms wind themselves around your waist from behind, the familiar scent of cigarette smoke and cheap, most likely stolen, cologne filling your senses. Lips are pressed against the base of your neck, and a chin rests on your shoulder. The sudden weight is warm and familiar. 

“I thought ya invited me over to spend some time with me, doll, not clean.” Dallas drawls, his voice rough and his accent heavy. You can feel him smile into your skin as you sigh, letting go of the cloth in favour of turning towards him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His hands fall to your hips, and his thumbs trace lazy patterns into your skin. 

“I didn’t invite you, Dal,” You raise your brows, “You climbed in through my window.” 

Dallas laughs lowly in response, shrugging nonchalantly as he drops a kiss on the corner of your lips. “Didn't expect ya to be so preoccupied.” He trails off, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and nipping lightly along your jawline. “Thought I’d be gettin’ more attention than this.” 

You roll your eyes fondly in response, but don’t move away as he continues peppering kisses down your jaw and collar, your hands wandering idly to the hem of your shirt. You’re quick to slap him away, fixing him with a warning look. He just grins lazily, leaning in close enough to press his lips just below your ear. 

“Dallas.” Your tone is stern, and it has absolutely no effect whatsoever on the greaser, who merely hums in reply, hands moving back to your waist to pull you closer. “Not here.”

Dallas’ grip tightens for a moment, and he pulls back, tilting his head to the side. “C’mon, doll… You’re brothers are gone; what’s there to worry about?” There’s a wicked grin on his lips as he steps away from you and leans against the kitchen counter, watching you carefully. 

It had been a mutual agreement to hide your relationship from the gang, a decision made to spare you from the headache Darry would no doubt give you and the black eye Dallas would receive for even thinking about touching you. You knew it was stupid to try hiding things from the gang, especially when they could see right through you like nobody else did, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell them.

Darry would probably skin you if he found out you were dating a hood like Dally, and you didn’t want to risk it. 

“There’s plenty to worry about,” you conclude, turning back to the sink. “What if Two-Bit or Johnny decide they wanna pay little old me a visit, huh, and they catch us here in the kitchen?” 

Dallas chuckles before placing his hands on your shoulders, leaning in close to whisper directly into your ear, “They won’t catch us, darlin’. They haven’t yet.” His hands begin to wander once more, and you drain the sink with a sigh, trying to find what little composure you have left to resist him and his words. He's relentless, damn him, and you know better than to hope for any sort of peace and quiet when you're home and alone.

His lips continue to trail a line down your neck, mouthing teasingly along the sensitive skin before moving back to your lips. This time, however, you give in, your fingers threading into his hair as you meet his eager advance. 

It's almost too easy to lose yourself in the haze of the moment, so much so that you hardly notice the thumping of footsteps on the porch until the screen door opens suddenly and Sodapop’s voice rings out.

“Y/N! You here?” His voice is loud with excitement as always, and you’re quick to jump away from Dallas, your eyes wide with surprise. 

“What the hell?” You hiss, glancing around the room frantically before spotting before your gaze lands on the bathroom door. You shove Dallas towards it, mumbling under your breath as you do so. “Get your ass outta here.” He snorts quietly, following your gaze and pressing a kiss to your cheek before closing the door behind him just as Soda rounds the corner in search of you. He beams brightly, and you let out a sigh of relief. 

“You’re home early…” You start, and he shrugs, heading to the dining table to grab his lunch which is still sitting where you’d left it out this morning. 

“Forgot this,” He holds up the bag and you roll your eyes internally. Typical. 

“You know,” You head back to the sink, taking out the now-clean dishes and stacking them back in the cupboard. “Sometimes I wonder how you’ve lived this long.” 

Soda smirks and raises an eyebrow, backing towards the door, lunch now in hand. “What can I say? What I lack in sense, I make up for in charm.” He winks, flashing a cocky grin as he leaves the house, the door banging shut behind him.

You watch to make sure he's completely gone before jogging to the bathroom and throwing open the door. “I told you this would happen.” You start, but stop short when you see that the room is empty.

The only sign that anybody had even been in here in the first place is the open window, the lingering scent of cigarette smoke, and that stupid cheap cologne that lingers in the air.

“Goddamnit, Winston…”  You huff, shaking your head and walking over to pull the window shut. 

0.2 - some unwanted visitors  

There’s a slight chill in the air; the summer nights slowly beginning to turn cooler as fall begins its slow, sleepy crawl across the state. 

Dallas has an arm thrown lazily over your shoulders, a cigarette dangling between his lips as he presses close, and a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. You lean into him slightly, savouring the warmth surrounding him and feeling content in his hold. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, neither wanting to break it nor quite being comfortable staying silent either.

“So... I suppose you're wanted back before curfew, huh?” Dallas eventually drawls, shifting slightly to lean his head against yours. You let out a small laugh, leaning further into him and  allowing your cheek to rest against his chest.

“You know it,” You murmur, and he hums, his fingers tracing little circles on the small of your back absentmindedly. “Darry thinks I'm out with friends again, so you’ll have to drop me off at the end of the street.”

The greaser frowns at that, a faint crease forming between his brows. “I ain’t lettin’ you out of my sight, doll, 'specially not this late.” He looks almost offended that you'd even suggest such an idea, and you shake your head, looking up at him. 

“Dal, I can handle myself. I don’t need you watching my ass 24/7.” 

He rolls his eyes, giving you an indignant scoff. “You ain’t got to act all high and mighty, doll. You know I ain’t going to let you walk alone.” He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers the next part. “Besides, we both know you like it when I watch your ass.” He pulls back then, grinning wildly when you roll your eyes dramatically, pushing him away. 

“Whatever, Winston,” You mutter, a coy smile tugging at the corners of your lips as he reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together loosely. “But seriously, though, I’ll be fine.” 

Dallas simply grunts, choosing to drop the subject, giving you no further argument. You know he’ll still insist on walking you to your porch, regardless of whether your brothers spot you or not.

He thrives on adrenaline and the thrill of getting caught is just too much for him to resist. 

You both turn back to the movie playing on screen—some old beach movie with a plot no different from every other. It's cliche and unrealistic, but you're willing to put up with it just so you and Dallas can spend time together without hiding. 

It's not until halfway through the movie that you spot a familiar pair of faces making their way towards your row of seats, too caught up in their debate to spot you. Dallas currently has his head buried in the crook of your neck, the movie long since forgotten as he trails kisses along your jawline, and you're barely keeping your attention focused on the screen.

“Dal,” Your tone is hard, and you elbow him sharply in the ribs, eliciting an annoyed groan. “We’ve got company.” 

Dallas turns to glance towards the end of your row, and, sure enough, there stands none other than your brother Ponyboy Curits and Two-Bit Mathews, both of whom are yet to notice you both. 

“Shit,” He growls under his breath, arm slipping from around your shoulder as he turns his body away from them. “What’re they doin’ here?” 

You give him a half-hearted shrug, scanning the area for a way out and coming up short. The closest exits are the ones closest to your brother and Two-Bit, and you have no doubt that they’ll spot you if you try to make a break for it.

You're about to suggest going the long way and cutting through the crowds when suddenly someone comes up behind you, hands slamming into your shoulders and your voice cutting through your internal panic.

“Y/N Curtis!”

You whip your head around, meeting the gaze of Two-Bit, who is grinning like a madman. Dallas lets out a grunt of irritation, crossing his arms over his chest and shooting the two boys a cold look.

“What’d you want?” He snaps, and Ponyboy frowns, looking over at you curiously.

“I thought you told Darry you were out with friends tonight?” 

Your eyes widen, and your face heats instantly. “Well…” You trail off. “There was a change of plans.” 

Pony raises an eyebrow, seemingly sceptical at your words, as Two sits himself down in the seat beside you, stretching out and taking a sip from his drink. Dallas says nothing, his expression darkening, and you feel him tense up beside you. 

There's an awkward pause, broken only by the crackling audio of the movie, before Dal huffs impatiently and rises from his chair. He shoots you a look, and you instantly understand, standing in your own chair. 

“We’re going to go grab some drinks.” You state this before turning on your heel and following Dallas away from the seats, weaving through the rows until you find a secluded spot, away from the larger crowds and the prying eyes of the two greasers.

Ponyboy and Two-Bit watch to both go, frowning in confusion before Two raises a brow. “They seem pretty close.”

Pony shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “My sister isn’t stupid enough to date a hood like Dally.” Oh, how wrong they are…  

0.3 - who’s jacket is that? 

You’re at the DX, leaning back against one of the gas pumps as you listen to whatever wild story Steve is telling you. His hands flail around dramatically, and you nod along slowly, only half paying attention as Dallas comes to stand beside you, a cigarette hanging lazily between his lips. 

He doesn't speak, simply resting a subtle hand against your lower back, his fingers drawing lazy patterns into your skin. Your mind races, and you take note of the people around you. How could any of your friends notice the small display of affection happening between the two of you? But they all seem too caught up in their own conversations to notice. 

Steve’s voice cuts through your thoughts just then, drawing you from your reverie and your attention away from Dallas. 

“And then she tosses her milkshake right in this asshole’s face and leaves!” You have no idea what he's talking about, but let out a small laugh regardless, at least trying to look somewhat interested in what he’s saying.

Dallas shifts a little next to you; the pressure of his hand is now more noticeable against your lower back, and you know that he knows you're distracted. You can almost sense the smirk he’s holding back, and you resist the urge to turn and glare at him, instead focusing back on Steve and the other boys, their mindless chatter continuing for a few moments longer before Johnny speaks up, his tone laced with curiosity.

“Hey, Y/N, is that a new jacket?” 

You turn to stare at the boy, brows furrowed in confusion. “Huh?” You glance down, and you swear your heart stops for a moment. You're still wearing Dallas' jacket. Shit. 

Quickly, you clear your throat, hoping that the colour flooding your cheeks isn’t too obvious. “Oh… Uh–” By now, all eyes are on you; the previous conversation has long been forgotten in favour of watching you intently. It’s uncomfortable, and just as you’re about to offer up a poor attempt at an answer, Steve pipes up again, his brow furrowed. 

“Ain’t that your jacket, Dal?” He looks over at the greaser beside you, and Dallas hums, taking another drag of his cigarette. There’s a small smirk on his face, his eyes flickering down at you before he gives a shrug, blowing out a thin cloud of smoke. 

“Dunno. Could be.” He states this nonchalantly, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans and slouching against the gas pump. “It looks awfully similar.” 

You swallow hard, averting your gaze as the gang glances back over at you, all sharing the same confused expressions. It seems Dallas isn't going to offer up any more on the subject, so with a few heavy sighs, everyone seems to drop it, returning to their previous conversations. 

Letting out a small sigh of relief, you turn to look up at Dallas, who is still grinning smugly. His hand rests comfortably on your back once more, your fingers resuming their rhythmic pattern, and you allow your shoulders to relax a little, knowing he’ll tease you relentlessly later on. 

“They look awfully comfortable.” Steve remarks quietly, nodding his head in yours and Dallas's general direction. It seems your fond expression for the hood hasn’t gone unnoticed, and Soda snorts, nudging his buddy in the ribs. 

“What’re you talking about?” He raises a brow, taking a rag from his pocket and wiping off the oil staining his hands. His attention moves to you and Dallas, a knowing look spreading across his features as he watches the two of you interact and an impossibly soft look in Dally’s eyes as you talk to him. 

He can’t help but notice the jacket once more, how it’s just a little too big on you, and how it looks a little too much like Dallas’'s to just be a coincidence. No, there’s no doubt in his mind about who exactly owns it, and if the smug smirk tugging at the corners of Dallas’ lips is anything to go by, then maybe, just maybe, Steve is right. 

Things are slowly starting to add up. 

0.4 - caught...

It’s early evening, and the sun is sinking low in the sky, casting dim rays of golden light throughout the room. It’s peaceful; the excitable chatter of the gang in the living room fills the air, muffled by your closed door. 

Dallas has his head resting in your lap, a cigarette held loosely between his fingers as he blows smoke out through your open window. His eyes are closed tight, bruises and cuts litter his face, and his skin is stained with blood and dirt. He doesn’t speak, merely wincing as your fingertips trail over his wounds, stopping occasionally to press gentle kisses to his hair. 

There’s a nasty gash above his eye, the blood trickling freely in little rivulets, and you wipe at it lightly with a wad of gauze, the sting of the alcohol drawing a pained grunt from the greaser.

“Do ya have to do that?” 

You give him a sympathetic smile, brushing your lips over his forehead tenderly. “Sorry,” you mutter, running your fingers through his matted hair. “I’m almost done.” 

Dallas doesn't move; he just stays silent, letting you dab gently at his injuries, his expression unreadable.

You never know how he's going to act after a rumble. Sometimes, he's fine, joking around and teasing with the others, but then there’s those small moments where the tension from the fight doesn’t dissipate, where he sits in complete silence, letting you work without complaint. 

These are the times when you worry, when it becomes obvious that he is hurting. He won’t tell you, not directly at least, but you know something's wrong. You can tell in the way he holds onto you, his face hidden from view, as his hands grip desperately at the fabric of your shirt. 

“Dal,” You murmur softly, and your tone is soft and soothing. “Talk to me.” Your fingers trail softly through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp, and you notice his shoulders drop a little. He exhales heavily, pressing his cheek against your thigh, his eyes closed tightly.

“Not right now,” His voice is thick and rough, and words slurred slightly as he struggled to stay awake. Your eyebrows furrow as a soft sigh escapes your lips, reaching your free hand out to brush over his bruised jaw. It's rare to see him so vulnerable and obviously upset, and it hurts knowing that he will bottle things up and hide them away until he’s forced to let it all out. 

You don’t push, though. Instead, you take his hand in yours, running your thumb over his bruised knuckles as you lay back against the pillows. The movement causes Dallas to shift slightly, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly close, and he drifts off within seconds. 

You let your slip shut, allowing yourself to drift easily along with him, content to lay here with him and wait patiently until he’s ready to talk. 

“Hey, where’s Dally and Y/N?” Pony’s voice breaks through the cheerful laughter of the gang as they bounce around the living room, most still high on adrenaline and excitement, only slowing down slightly once the question reaches their ears. 

They all glanced about the space, their eyes scanning over every possible corner, before coming to rest with each other, sharing the same look of confusion. 

Darry pushes himself up from his chair with a sigh, tossing the first-aid kit in his lap to Soda, who catches it with ease. “Y/N is in her room. She might know where Dallas is.” The gang all watches as he heads down the hall, stopping just outside your door to knock softly. 

When there's no response, he frowns, glancing back towards the gang before knocking again. Still nothing. With a quick shrug, he turns the doorknob gently, pushing open the door and peeking inside.

Your bedroom is dark except for the faint glow emanating from your desk lamp, which illuminates the walls with a soft pale glow. Darry is about to call out to you, about to question you on where Dallas is, when he spots the hood in question asleep with his head in your lap. 

His breath hitches, and he pauses, his gaze wandering to you, your fingers threaded through his blonde locks. 

“Soda. Pony.” Darry calls quietly, catching both brothers’ attention immediately as he speaks. “Get over here.”

The two boys scramble up from their places on the couch, racing across the room and peering into your darkened room curiously, their eyes widening at the sigh before them.

“Well, damn.” Sodapop lets out a low whistle as the rest of the gang come up behind them. Two-Bit lets out a short laugh, and Steve cuts him off with a sharp elbow to the ribs. “I told you,” the former whispers, grinning broadly. “I told you they had something going on!” 

The group all share a look, the sound of Darry clearing his throat echoing in the quiet house. Slowly, he backs out of the room. closing the door once more and letting out a breath. 

There are words that will need to be had, promises that need to be made, but he supposes that can wait for another time. Right now, he'll let you and Dallas have your moment because it seems it's been long awaited. And it certainly has.

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

#the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders preferences #the outsiders imagine #dallas winston #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston headcanons #dallas winston imagine #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #johnny cade #two bit mathews #steve randle

[koemiexists]

Okay strange question but do you do fluff? If not disregard what I'm about to type... if you do, could you do an Alastor fluff fic with a premise of femme!reader being upset over a break up or something and him just like talking shit about the ex-partner for most of it to make them feel better? I feel like that would be cute/funny.

alastor & reader fluff fic

summary: your ex boyfriend dumped you, but thankfully alastor is there to comfort you in his odd twisted way word count: 2.1k a/n: so i sprained my ankle by falling down the stairs and landing on it and that's why i popped this out so fast (haha just like my ankle popped out... let me stop) anyways the ao3 curse is real + ambiguous ending to alastor x reader?? didn't know if u want that so it's open ended AND i did this request bc it's easy rather than figuring out synonyms for the word cock even though i'll still use it 20 more times...

“Well my dear lady, I never seen you in such distress before, it is quite the shock, especially with how often your features present a grand old smile!”

You sniffle, looking at Alastor through teary eyes. “I would like to be left alone, please.” You murmur, looking away from the Radio Demon. Any other time, you wouldn’t have minded, but you just came back from the worst date night ever.

Alastor strolled right up to you, plopping down next to your shaking frame, his grin even wider. His eyes, however, were glaring daggers through you. You felt yourself shrink back, but he only stayed that well, as if searching for something.

“Don’t be such a downer, dear, I just wanted to know about your night! What ever happened to you in such a somber state? A beautiful young woman just like yourself should only ever be happy, and not in a mood of fitful anguish!”

You rolled your eyes. “My boyfriend broke up with me.”

Alastor didn’t pause in his commentary when you had interrupted, raising his voice a little louder. “That circus? Why dear, I remember hearing you complain to Angel Dust about that fellow’s lack of sizable packing in his groin! Ha-ha!”

Letting out a small giggle, you turned to fully face him. “Yeah, I didn’t feel a fucking thing when he tried to ‘make love’ with me.”

“Did you not tell our dearest Charlie about how you were his very first lover? Ha! And he chose to break your gorgeous heart for what? Is he such a man of ill manners to not even grace you with reasoning?”

“Ugh,” You started, groaning. “He said that he found someone else- and get this!”

Alastor’s eyes widened a little, leaning in, thoroughly interested with what you were going to say.

“The woman he’s now fucking isn’t even someone higher up in status than me- no it’s a fucking female imp! I hate him!”

A mock gasp came from Alastor, and he held your hand. “He’s with a harlot? Disgraceful, over your modest and intelligence? My dear friend, Rosie, she’d eat him right up, I tell you! (Name), he’d be nothing but bones, clean and picked! Just say the word, maybe I’ll even eat a leg! Ha-ha...”

You smiled at him, your tears fully gone now. “Thank you, Alastor.” You started, grinning up at the Radio Demon. “I really needed that.

“So no eating up that detested man?”

Smiling wryly, you gave him a sly look. “Maybe,” You said, glancing at the door. “Or wouldn’t it be better to make him jealous?” Alastor’s grin widened, green stitches at the end as his eyes formed into radio dial’s. His antler had elongated, and despite his form being more than scary, you only smirked. “I like the way you think, darling.”

#fluff #reader insert #hazbin hotel #oneshot #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin alastor #alastor fluff #light angst #drabble #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fluff

[buckrecs]

ur account is my absolute go to!!! any chance u could rec biker!bucky fics 🥺🥺🥺

Biker!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

Wanted by @jadedvibes

You consider ending things with Bucky after seeing a girl come on to him, but it's not that easy, and you get a hard reminder about who he really wants in the clubhouse bathroom.

Best Friends? Nah. by @wicked-mind

Classic best friends don’t realize feelings for each other until someone points it out.

Business as Usual by @world-of-aus

Not My Babe by @avecra

After a nasty break up to a nearly two year relationship, you find yourself dragged to a bar by your best friend, though a familiar blue-eyed biker makes the best of your crappy situation.

rough around the edges by @wndalovebot

Let Me Love You Old School by @mysecretlittlelibrary

Bucky meets you at a diner and plans to sweep you completely off your feet.

The Bogeyman and Other Monstrosities by @pellucid-constellations

As the local biker club president, Bucky Barnes had a reputation for being tougher than nails and feared by many—he’d never be caught dead at a halloween street fair. Too bad his best girl always got what she wanted.

Waiting Game by @buckychrist

You knew being associated with one of the most notorious and dangerous biker gangs in the city was bad, let alone scandalously dating their kingpin in secret, but you never thought you’d have to face those consequences. Until now.

Home by @all1e23

Bucky runs into his ex at a winter carnival the MC is helping host, but she didn’t come alone.

Whatever It Takes by @sgtjbuccky

Bucky Barnes knows the way to drive you up the wall in frustration, fed up with it, you show him that you know how to play just the same.

deny me by @drewbarymore

In which you feel like Bucky’s ashamed of you.

Drunk, Dumped and Empty by @green-eyeddragonfanfiction

After a nasty breakup, you go out drinking. After an absolute creep hits on you, you’re saved from a concussion by a mysterious, kind man, who reveals himself to be Bucky Barnes. The bar you’re in is a bit suspect, but you never expected him to be head of a biker gang.

yayo by @sergeantxrogers

“I need you safe. I need you here, and I need you safe, and I need, God please, I need you to let me in, baby, just let me in and I promise I’ll make it all better,” his broken voice pleaded through the door.

Drabble by @fandoms-writings

Biker!Bucky x tattooed!reader

hot and cold by @bucksfucks

you & bucky had never gotten along, but when your ex-boyfriend ransom turns up at the same bar you’re at, bucky goes to every length to protect you.

How To Get Away With Murder by @empyreanwritings

Bucky was always good at helping you clean up your messes, which is why he doesn't bat an eye when you show up on his doorstep covered in your abusive boyfriend's blood.

Hush by @buckysknifecollection

Bucky finds a stray kitten but he doesn’t know anything about cats. A friendly librarian helps him out.

little favors by @onceuponastory

Since Bucky saved her from her shitty boss, Y/N hasn’t seen him again. For a while, she gets closer and closer to giving up hope. Until he comes back. And this time, he’s asking for her help.

SERIES

Swallow by @all1e23

Since he was fifteen years old, Bucky Barnes has only been sure of two things; the club should be the most essential thing in his life, and he’d burn it all down for you.

Delicate Edges by @wkemeup

Your family’s beloved flower shop was not the only thing you inherited when your parents passed. Trapped under a mountain of debt to the Hydra club, you bear the cost of your father’s desperate bargain. It’s only in moments when the charming Bucky Barnes walks into your shop that you can forget the cruelty of the biker clubs of this town. But a war is brewing. The border is crumbling. You're trapped in the middle. And Bucky will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

For The Best by @metalbuckaroo

Bucky is tired of waiting for you to realize what you're doing. He does the only thing he can think of to break the cycle.

White Horses by @whitewolfbumble

Kicked out of school and exiling yourself in a town time forgot, one little incident lands the sights of the locally infamous Avengers biker gang square on you. Wild horses run faster and there was no chance to turn back now.

Howlin’ For You by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

When Y/N gets an unreal deal on her first home, she wonders why her neighbor scared away all the other buyers. Despite being cautious, she wonders why the town has given Bucky Barnes a bad name.

Brotherhood & Bullets by @rookthorne

The 107th motorcycle club has been the protector of their collective hometown for many, many years - shouldering all the bloodshed and loss that came with it. Little did you know, you'd become the President's own twisted version of an angel on his shoulder; the tips of your angelic wings tinged red by your own demons.

Stars & Stripes, Studs & Spikes by @buckyismybicycle

The crew has always been tight, but you and Bucky are best of friends. When Bucky sees Brock's mark on you, he nearly loses it and wants to end Brock for good. But, there's something more important - keeping you safe.

call me baby by @cherryrogers

Returning to Brooklyn for the summer after a year of travelling from city to city, you hadn’t expected to find your best friend, Peggy Carter, hopelessly in love with a biker, and when she decided to introduce you to the rest of his club, you hadn’t expected to fall for one either — that was until you met one with pretty eyes and a habit of calling you baby.

Masterlist by @angrythingstarlight

Masterlist by @metalbuckaroo

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #biker!bucky #bucky barnes modern au #biker!bucky x reader #bff!bucky #best friend!bucky #bucky x florist!reader #neighbor!bucky

[urwifebabes]

*casually treats this like getting a BigMac from McDonald's /j*

can I get uhhhhhh.hh..... a DogDay smut fic with.. F!Reader.. an uh... Dogday has an abombinal breeding..kink?????

“Have my fuckin’ pups, please?”

what I listened to writing this ‼️

Relationship(s): Dogday x Bat!reader

Warning(s): smutt, breeding ur lil cunnie

The kids had finally went to sleep and you and Dogday had smiled at eachother, high-fiving. you guys had cleaned up the mess the kids had made. you bending over to pick things up, Dogday couldn’t help the tent in his fur. he quickly finished his side and wished you a goodnight, heading to his home. that was very unlike him. he usually walked you home, no matter how tired he was.

Dogday was wide awake in the middle of the fucking night. he was hard as a rock, thinking about the way, he could see your pretty little pussy’s indent everytime you had bent over to pick up pencils and crayons while you both were cleaning. he growled as he fucked his fist, squeezing it tightly. wishing it was your cunt. he whimpered as he thrusted his hips faster, cumming to the thought of you.

he had came in his hand twice, and his cock still stood at full attention. he whimpered knowing he needed you. now. he hurriedly got out of bed and zipped his dick up. he headed over to your place. he looked at the door. it was pitch black out, but he knew you’d be up. you were always up at night. don’t ask how he knew that.

he knocked softly. no answer. he knocked again. no answer. he sighed, thinking you might have went to bed tonight. he started to turn on his heels but the door had opened, a quiet creak being heard. you were standing in the door. he looked at you and his mouth physically drooled. you stood in all your glory. your nipples were hard through the T-shirt and your plush thighs were laced together with slick. he could only think that you were playing with yourself as well. he smirked, you didn’t have on your ‘other fur’ to hide your body from him? how slut like.

he quickly pushed you inside, groping at your body and your chest. you tried to talk him out of it. but why talk him out of it when you wanted him just as bad? “d—dogday wait- what happened?— ah, mm~” he had silenced you with another plush kiss. he couldn’t wait a moment more and unzipped his fur, letting his hot hard and lengthy cock hit his leg. he stopped kissing you as you looked down, your face hot. “t—that won’t fit!” “we’ll make it fit.” Dogday said as he used his free hand to lay you on your couch after pushing the pillows off of it. he had grabbed his length, stroking gently before he pushed the tip inside you, you had already been this wet? he wondered why. he knew it had to be him, noticing the dogday themed dildo on your counter.

Dogday growled as his hips slapped against yours. the sounds erotic and lewd. he sucked against your chest as you pulled on his fur. he looked up at you with his pretty love sick eyes as he whispered.

“have my fuckin’ pups, please.”

He whispered as you felt him dump his cum deep inside your womb. you moaned in pure pleasure as each thick rope of cum poured deep into you. that didn’t stop him though, his hips kept moving. “m—make me a mommy, Dogday~!” you didn’t have to tell him twice. his thrusts moved with purpose, only one purpose. to give you his babies. you were in for it and you knew it. you belonged to him and him alone.

A/N : loll, sorry this is so short. I hope this is what you were hoping for though.

TAGS: @2faced-fairy

#dogday x reader #smiling critters x reader #reader insert #reader x character #reader x crush #dogday x reader x catnap #smut #catnap #catnap x reader #dogday #dogday poppy playtime #breeding k1nk #submisive and breedable #sexy tease #sexy content #sexy beast #sexy beauty

[muniimyg]

SAUDADE // JJK

once found, now lost; it’s a love that lingers and struggles to find closure

+ 

jungkook and oc attempt to be friends after a break-up

navi | m. list | ask me ! |

pairing: (somewhat) badboy jk + oc 

au/genre:

post-break up au 

one shot

angst, smut, vibes...

warnings:

mentions of blood, drinking, smoking, and drunk driving

smut ! creampie ! 

self loathing / bad habits 

miscommunication 

note: dedicated to @joonsjuice because she flew to meet me & all we did was laugh abt my fics 😭 my biggest fan frfr … i promised her i’d write so… surprise !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @prdshobi @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @heem145 @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns

Tonight was no different from the other nights Jungkook would waste away. 

At least, it began like a regular Friday night party. It was the usual routine of getting high as he made his way to the party, some beer pong, and downing some shots of hard liquor, before stepping out to take a cigarette break. Soon, the night would be a blur and a pain in the ass of a headache to deal with the following morning. 

Except, tonight, the people Jungkook usually ignores were extra irritating. So irritating that one guy came up to him mid-puff and asked; “are you still fucking ___? Heard she dumped you and shit, so she’s up for grabs right? She’s here tonight and I heard that she was a virgin before she met you… My guy, did you fuck her out or is her pussy the type to be just as tight as it was when you first fucked her?”

It’s no surprise what happens next. 

A little cussing, a little shoving, and a little punch here and there… Suddenly turned into a full-blown fight with other people intervening and pulling Jungkook’s body off the imbecile. 

That brings him here. 

Jungkook struggles to fit his keys into his apartment locks and stumbles his way to his bathroom. There, runs a shower and steps in. He cleans himself, scrubbing the smell of his vices away. Blankly, he watches as the blood from his hands drips down and goes down the drain. When he finishes, he turns the water off and dries himself. Yet, his knuckles continue to bleed and for a split second, he sees how deep the cut is. His knuckles are absolutely busted. He wipes his foggy mirror and sighs at the sight of his face. 

His lip is also busted. His eyebrow piercing is messed up and his eye will probably bruise up by morning. Honestly, he didn’t lose the fight.. But, it sure came with a cost. 

Perhaps his adrenaline begins to wear off because his injuries begin to hurt like a bitch. He rummages through his cabinets and hisses, “fucking shit.”

He had no bandaids. 

He barely has any ointments to tend to his wounds. 

Jungkook winces at the pain as he runs water over his bloody knuckles. He’s been in fights before and even injured his hand a few months ago, but for some reason, this pain hits differently. It aches, it throbs, it feels like it’ll probably scar.

This stresses him out.

If the physical pain wasn’t bad enough, suddenly a million and one thoughts were flooding in and his heartbeat instantly begins to race. He could feel all his emotions come up and it made him nauseous. His head was spinning and before he knew it; his heart was beginning to ache. 

He was truly hurting. 

He had been thinking of you nonstop these days. It’s not like he ever got over the break-up—how could he? It’s only been three months since you. You two had been together for almost two years at that. How could he suddenly just be okay after three months of no you? If anything, he was only beginning to process the absence of you. 

It’s not like he cared if you were at this party or not. If anything, he was happy to know you were around him. Even if you’d probably ignore him or offer him a generic greeting; he’d take it. It didn’t bother him that you were here… What bothered him was the mere idea of you taking one step closer, one fingertip brushing against his as you two bump into each other in the crowd; one moment. One mere second where you’d look at him a little longer than you should. One mere second where you’d smile at him the same way as you used to and then it’d be over. 

He’d fall down to his knees and do it. 

He’d beg for you.

He’d make promises, fully knowing he’d probably break them within the week. He’d cry and then he’d loathe himself for the rest of his life. 

And loathe himself he does the minute he hears a knock on his door. 

Quickly, he puts on his grey sweats and makes his way to answer. Without much thought, he swings the door open and it reveals a barefoot you. 

“I figured you wouldn’t have any bandaids,” you hold out a plastic bag filled with First Aid materials. “We threw them out, remember? Because you promised me you wouldn’t get into fights and get hurt.”

“Where are your shoes?”

“M-my shoes? Oh. I had heels on. I think I left them at the pharmacy. I ran here.”

Jungkook sighs and shoves his hands into his pockets. He hangs his head low and mumbles, “I’m sorry.”

“I knew you were a bad boyfriend,” you choke, trying your best to keep it together. “But you didn’t need to break your promise.”

He looks up and is instantly wrapping his arms around you as you bury yourself in his chest. In between light sobs, you curl your fists and hit him. “I hate you.”

“I know.”

“I hate you so much,” you utter with as much annoyance as you can. “I really hate you, Jungkook.”

“I know, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby.”

“I—okay. Whatever you want.”

You take a deep breath and lift your head. You sniff as let him wipe your tears with his thumb. Swiftly, you take hold of his wrist and analyze his hands.

“I’m okay,” Jungkook promises. “It’s not that bad. Might need stitches but I’ll just go tomorrow morning. It’s kinda late.”

You roll your eyes at him. It’s just like him to neglect his health and well-being. “Hospitals are 24/7, Jungkook.”

“Yeah, but you’re here.” 

A beat. 

“So what?”

“You brought me bandaids.”

It feels weird being in Jungkook’s bathroom again. 

All you can think about are all the times you two stood side by side, brushing your teeth. How you’d flush the toilet while he was showering or how he’d barge in while you were taking yours. The slow morning back-hugs and the irritating haste of running late to plans.. It’s all in here. It all happened here as silly as it sounds.

Though it’s only been three months, it’s a bit painful to be sitting on the floor with him and patching him up as if the bandaids were going to fix anything. His cuts ran deep and the bandaids only covered the damage. Yet, you two sit there in silence and pretend like this is a solution. Like sticking bandaids on a wound that clearly needs stitches wasn’t an excuse to just be with him again. 

“This isn’t the you I know,” you comment, half-heartedly trying to pick a fight.

“It’s the me I’ve always been. I mean, isn’t this why you broke up with me?”

“No,” you shake your head in disagreement with his vile words.

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheeks. “I’m sorry for bringing so much shit in your life.”

“You didn’t,” you reassure him. “You don’t.”

You don’t say anything further. Could you even? The situation is already as horrible as it can be. Now, it has this awkward yet intimate pull on you. It just burns. If anything, you want to say it. You want to spit it all out and tell him everything. 

Tell him that you broke up with him because you would’ve stayed through it all. You would’ve bailed him out of every charge pressed against him. You would’ve forgiven him every time he forgot a important date. You would’ve gotten into the car even if you knew he had been drinking. You would’ve skipped every morning class to sleep in with him. You would’ve loved him more than your own life and that horrified you. 

Nonetheless, he was always good to you. You just wish he was good to himself. Though you believe him when he told you he loved you; you couldn’t wait for him to change. As much as you love him as he was—the essence of youth, anticipation, and longing he carried soon turned into a mess of anger and fuck ups. 

But how could you ever think that as he sits in front of you, hurting, and still completely in love with you?

Jungkook breaks the silence. “Thank you… For this.”

“Don’t thank me,” you say sternly. Peeling another bandaid and eyeing it to perfectly cover his wound, you encourage him; “just do better.”

“I’m trying,” he says softly. 

Your heart sinks. 

“I know,” you take out an ointment and squeeze a bit on a q tip. Tilting his face, you reach up and apply the medicine to the cuts on his face. “I believe you.”

It’s the truth. 

You do.

Jungkook can’t help himself. 

He wraps his hands on your wrist, causing you to pause. There’s a look in his eyes—the kind that makes your heart feel utter heartbreak and relief at the same time. It’s devastating… To love someone and want them so bad that it hurts. 

“J-Jungkook… Don’t,” you croak, trying your best to keep it together. “Don’t ruin this.”

“Ruin what?”

You push away. “This. I’m trying to be a friend, Jungkook. Don’t make it any more than it is. We broke up—”

“You dumped me,” he corrects you. “When did I ever say I didn’t want to be with you?”

“Jungkook—”

“Please, ___, I’m sorry. Believe me when I say that, okay?” He begs, bringing your hands to cup his face. “I can’t do this anymore. I hate not being with you.”

Your eyes tear up and your walls come crashing down. You hate the way he sounds right now. His voice sounds so desperate and honest. You’ve never heard it sound like this before.. Even when you dumped him, he was silent. This… This is new. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit. “Why are you sorry? How did it get this way?” It’s the most painful thing you’ve managed to say to him tonight. Your heart continues to break as his breath hitches. 

“I’m no good for heartache, baby.”

Your mind spins. 

Your stomach feels like it’s just been hit with a gust of wind so strong that you’ve lost all the words and thoughts you gathered before coming over. It’s like every reason you made up on your way here is just being tossed out the window. 

“You’re the only thing that ever made sense to me.”

Then, it hits. 

You remember exactly why you stayed for so long. Regardless of how much the break-up needed to be done, the truth remains; you and Jungkook have always understood each other. In any language and in any universe, that’s the most romantic feeling to ever encounter. To have the privilege of loving someone and understanding them runs deeper than any cut. 

You two stay silent for a moment, trying to process and convince yourselves to take your words back. Anything. Take anything back. 

But your attempt fails. 

Self-betrayal takes place as you lean in and close your eyes. Jungkook dips his head low and kisses you. Little drops of water fall down the side of your face because of Jungkook’s wet hair. Honestly, if someone had told you it was your tears; you’d believe them. At this point, did it really matter? 

For the first time in three months, Jungkook feels at ease.

His sheets still smell the same. They feel the same too. Soft, clean, and just so him. 

At first, Jungkook attempts to take charge. Just like before, he had you lie down to take care of you. Unfortunately for him, because of his condition, he wasn’t able to do much. Instead, he hovered on top and took his time kissing you. His hands wandered around your body, ultimately settling for the spot in between your neck and cheeks. 

Your hands traveled down inside his pants. 

“Calvin Klein boxers are still by far the hottest look on you,” you claim in between kisses. He smiles into the kiss and mumbles; “yeah, yeah.”

You laugh as he attempts to slip his fingers down your panties. He hisses in pain and groans. “I fucking hate this.”

“Oh? I can go—”

“Shut up.”

“Meanie.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “I’m literally trying to get you off and you’re insisting on leaving. Do you resent me that much?”

Shaking your head, you digress. “I don’t resent you.”

He kisses you in response. As he sinks into it, you put your hands on his waist and catch him off guard. You shift your weight and bring yourself on top of him. Making yourself comfortable, you roll your hips on top of his bulge and lift your arms. He sits up halfway and helps you take off your shirt. Without hesitating, he unclasps your bra and wraps his arms around you. He brings you down and kisses you so deeply. Slipping his tongue in and even biting your bottom lip as he breaks away for air. With as much strength as he can, he feels around your breast. 

God, this was the worst fucking time to have busted hands. 

“It’s okay,” you tell him as you take his hands off your breasts. “Let me take care of you.”

Jungkook gulps but nods and agrees with you. In all honesty, he was tired. He wants you so bad and this was helping him feel relieved. However, it was just too painful and inconvenient to part-take the same way as he used to. He’s glad you understand and are comfortable enough to take over. He’s glad he feels safe and that his ego wasn’t being jeopardized. 

He was no less of a man for letting you love him the way you do. If anything, it made him feel another level of security with you. 

You lift yourself a little and take his length out. On top, you continue to grind on his velvet skin. It feels so good even with the fabric of your panties. Jungkook moans, beginning to feel the tingly feeling arise. He hooks his thumb on one side of your panties and pushes the fabric aside. He pushes it just enough for your folds to come in contact with his cock. 

Oh, it felt so fucking good. 

You gasp a little before giggling. “Feels so good.”

Jungkook sharply inhales. “Baby, I’m gonna cum so fucking fast if you don’t start riding me.”

You laugh, but listen to him. You lift yourself up once again and this time, you sink into his throbbing cock. 

The precum from grinding on him makes it a little easier for you, but it still burns a bit. You stay still, trying to process the feeling and Jungkook takes a minute to calm his mind. He would literally bust a nut if you moved. 

“Okay,” you huff. “I’m good to go. Do you still need a minute?”

“Fuck you,” Jungkook breathes. 

“That’s a yes,” you tease. “I need to move or I’ll start to feel icky. You have ten more seconds.”

Jungkook glares at you. “Generous timing. Thank you, baby.”

“Aren’t I just the best?” you laugh, moving closer to him. You squish his cheeks together and place a kiss on his pouty lips. “Times up. Gonna ride you now.”

He takes a deep breath before placing his hands on your hips. You take that as the signal to begin. Also, you can’t help but love this view. 

His bare chest and tattoos are displayed so perfectly for you. His damp hair adds to his needy look. If you were standing, your knees would have buckled. Instead—and God bless—you’re here. On top of him, ready to ride the shit out of him. 

Easily, you begin to ride him. Every time you sink into his cock, you shift your body. You feel him inside you get harder and harder and love the way you can feel him hit your walls from various angles. It just feels so good to be with him again. 

As you ride him, you two fall into the perfect pace. The high kicks in and suddenly the view of your breast bouncing, you throwing your head back, and the way your wet pussy eats him up—he creams inside you. 

Satisfied, Jungkook lets out a breathy moan and watches his cum leak out of your pussy. You continue to ride him, but your hips move slower and you lift yourself up higher. Jungkook lifts his hips at one point and thrusts as you bounce. You gasp, unable to fathom just how fucking euphoric this feels. 

“Ohhh my god!”

You hit climax and cum.

After all that, your body practically trembles and falls on top of Jungkook. He holds you, runs his fingers through your hair, and tells you how much of a good job you did. As you catch your breath, your breathing stabilizes but also welcomes the sleepiest relief. 

As your eyes flutter close and your body fully collapses on Jungkook, he kisses the top of your head and murmurs; “you’re still the one, baby.”

When the sunlight seeps in, Jungkook slowly wakes up. 

Immediately, he feels a sharp pain in his hand. He looks over and sees that you’re holding it. His hand is kept close to your chest and quickly recalls the night. 

Though he feels a bit embarrassed that he had been that desperate for you; he’s glad it got him here. Yet, a feeling of sadness lingers because he was no idiot. 

Though you wake up next to him in the morning, bare and tangled in his embrace, Jungkook knows that deep down; even here—at the very end of you and him—you are you and he remains him.

The sad truth is that Jungkook understood it. He understood you. Which is why, he’ll never tell you why he got into a fight that night and also why he’ll continue to fight for you until the end.

“Even if it’s the end for us.”

#bts smut #bts one shot #jungkook scenario #badboy jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook x oc #jungkook x yn #jungkook x reader #jungkook bts #bts fanfic #bts writing #bts scenario #jungkook fic #bts exes to lovers #bts friends with benefits #bts e2l #bts fwb #jungkook smut #bts fic rec #jk one shot

[featherandferns]

surfs up (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | part of the F.W.B universe, but can be read as a standalone too!

content warning: drug use; mentions/discussions of sex

word count: 4k.

Blurb: you meet JJ's friends. whilst Kiara and Sarah grill you about your boyfriend, John B and Pope are still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that you've managed to tie JJ down.

The mirror could do with a clean. You look past the smudges and marks on the glass to focus on parting your hair with a comb. It’s freshly washed and wet, dripping down your bare back.

“Do you have to do that naked? It’s like torture,” JJ complains from the bed.

You don’t look away from your handy work as you reply. “You know, if we go to war, and you get captured, you’re in for a big shock.”

JJ hurls a pillow towards you and it hits you in the side before you have time to dodge, making you laugh.

“I don’t understand why you’re styling your hair anyway. We’re going surfing,” he says.

“I always style my hair.”

“I don’t get why. I mean, I never style mine."

Turning around to take him in, you reply, sarcastically, “you don’t say.”

JJ’s laid on his back on the bed, naked save from his boxers, eyes closed, his hair pointing in any which way. You know that for him, getting ready will consist of switching into some swim shorts, pulling on one of the many tee-shirts on the floor (that won’t stay tidy, no matter how hard you try), and shoving a cap over his unruly hair. You watch as his hand lazily searches for another pillow to toss, coming up short. A vape gets thrown instead, hitting your thigh.

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

Looking back to the mirror, you thread the comb through some strands, encouraging them to fall the right side of your head.

“Your hair's just gonna get wet anyway. I don’t know why you’re bother-Oh.”

“What?” you grumble, not liking how his voice has suddenly dropped off. He doesn’t reply. Starts giggling to himself like a schoolgirl. You roll your eyes, looking to him again. “What?”

“You tryn’a look pretty for my friends?”

“Shut up.”

“You are! You wanna look pretty for when you meet them!”

“Shut up!” you repeat, louder. Your face is flushing hot with embarrassment. “I just wanna make a good first impression.”

“Babe, they're so chill, you could walk in half naked and it’d make a good impression. I mean, you basically already did with John B.”

“Please don’t remind me of that,” you whine.

The comb gets dumped on the dresser. JJ’s grinning at you from the bed – you can see his pearly whites reflecting in the mirror – and you somehow refrain from rolling your eyes again. Okay, sure, maybe you are spending a bit more time than usual on how you look and are overthinking how you’re going to dress for this chill-out-surf-day on the beach…But you want JJ’s friends to like you. Think good of you.

JJ hasn’t let up on teasing you. In silent retaliation, when you reach down to collect a tee shirt from the ground, you make a show to bend over forwards, the back of your legs facing him. JJ groans.

“That’s just mean.”

“What is?” you ask innocently, standing upright again, tee shirt in hand.

“You’re not playing fair,” JJ tells you.

Smirking, you open a dresser draw and shove in the tee. There’s no point wasting time folding it, as it’s only going to end up on the bedroom floor again by tomorrow. Opening the second drawer, you dig through your clothes that have gradually accumulated in JJ’s room at the chateau. Digging out a two-piece and a pair of shorts, you move to get dressed.

“Do you think we got time for a quickie?” JJ asks.

You bark out a laugh. “We really don’t.”

“Sure we do. Please.”

“Are you seriously begging me to have a quickie with you-” you glance to the bedside table’s clock, reading the time “-ten minutes after we said we’d meet your friends outside?”

JJ shrugs, sitting up. “I’m very fast.”

“That’s usually not the kind of thing guys brag about,” you remind him.

Your shorts are on now, and you reach around to tie the back of your bikini top.

“I’m serious. In and out, I swear. Two minutes tops.”

“And they say romance is dead.”

“Baby…”

“JJ,” you mimic. “No means no.”

He grunts and flops back on the bed, dramatic. You grab at another tee shirt on the floor (I mean, are these things multiplying?) and toss it at him. It lands on his face and he groans.

“Get dressed. I’m gonna brush my teeth.”

“Boo.”

You laugh to yourself as you walk out his bedroom, into the bathroom. As you brush, you inspect your face for any blemishes, and your hair for any stray strands which have fallen away. There’s a nervous thrum in your chest, over-layed with excitement; similar to the kind you get before a match.

You know JJ’s friends are far from snobbish. They’re perhaps the most easy-going people on earth. But earning their approval weirdly means a lot to you. Maybe it’s because JJ doesn’t seem very close with his family – at least, he never talks about them with you – so this feels akin to meeting the parents. You also have a sense that his friends inform a lot of his thoughts and decisions, and so if you were to slip up, maybe they’d somehow convince him to leave you. Whilst the pair of you have only been official for a couple of weeks, nearing to a month, you already feel how attached you’re becoming to him. How you save your dirtiest jokes for him and make a mental note of any anecdote at work that you know will have him in stiches. And the sex is better than it ever was before.

By the time you’re done in the bathroom, JJ’s pulling on his boots. He’s dressed in an old work muscle-tee and some swim shorts (just as you suspected) and there’s a cap waiting on his bed. The red one. You smile, sit down and pick it up.

“Think this is my favourite one,” you tell him. You inspect the front and read the branding.

JJ takes it from you and places it on your head, pushing down on the lip of the cap so it blocks your vision. Makes you laugh.

“Looks good on you too,” he says. “Not as good as I look on you…”

“We’re not having a quickie, JJ.”

“Damn it. Ah well, worth a shot.”

You take off the cap and hand it back to him, getting up. JJ’s kicking your trainers towards you and you slide them on rather easy, without having to untie the laces. Then the two of you are heading out the house and out the front door. The butterflies that had momentarily let up in the bedroom are back, beating their wings in full force at the sight of his friends gathered around the back of the house. Kiara is sat in the hammock, scrolling on her phone, and Sarah is half-laying at her feet. Pope is lent against the tree. He’s talking to John B, who’s sat on one of the low deckchairs, eyes closed and nodding along. JJ whistles as the two of you approach, catching their attention. When their heads turn to look at you, it makes you think of hawks fixating on prey.

“Yo. Good to go?”

“Only been waiting for ten minutes,” Pope says.

“Wasn’t it Newton who said time is relative?”

“No. That was Einstein, genius,” Pope corrects.

JJ rolls his eyes. “Whatever. We’re here now.”

Sarah’s on her feet, walking over to you, smiling with a hand outstretched. “Hi! I’m Sarah!”

“Hi,” you smile, shaking her hand, introducing yourself. Kiara follows second. Pope nods at you from the tree, introducing himself, and John B gives a small wave.

“We’ve technically already met,” he says, making you laugh through your embarrassment.

“Technically.”

“Come on!” Kiara’s calling, half-way to the twinkie. “We’re missing all the good waves!”

“Who’s got the cooler?”

“Already packed."

"Yeah, we had some time to kill...”

“Boards?”

“Attached to the roof.”

“I mean, can you seriously not see them? You do have eyes, right?”

“Shut it, Pope.”

You tag behind the gang, barely following their constant banter, chuckling at the antics. It seems they have a routine. John B and Sarah climb in the front, the former sitting behind the steering wheel. Kiara slides open the back door and her and Pope climb in first, taking the back seat. JJ offers you a hand as you step in. You take the spot nearest the steering wheel – a strange box-like podium that you imagine is hollow for storage – whilst JJ slides the door shut. He sits near your feet, leant against the wall of the front seats. The engine has spluttered to life and the radio begins to play Marley. The gang gives a few whoops of excitement as you set off towards the beach, away from the marsh.

By the time you pull up to the beach, Pope has explained the theory of the universe; JJ and John B have gotten into a brief, fleeting argument about whether Atlantis could be real; Sarah reminisced about the last time she went surfing; and Kiara has gone on a semi-heated tangent about litter on the beaches. Your cheeks ache from smiling and laughing. Whilst you haven’t fully stuck your neck out yet to join in, you’re content just listening to the gang bicker and beam.

As the engine shuts off, JJ reaches down to squeeze a hand on your shoulder. “Ready to ruin your hair?”

Mirthfully, you roll your eyes. “Can’t look any worse than yours.”

Pope ooo’s at the burn whilst Kiara whistles lowly, grinning.

Then everyone’s getting to their feet, hopping out the car, retrieving gear and supplies to lug down onto the sand. JJ carries his board and the cooler, and you lug the paddle board and a tote bag of snacks. John B and Sarah settle on a good spot, just shy of the dunes, far enough from the water that there’d be plenty of time before the tide comes in to pack up and leave. As everyone starts to dump the stuff, Kiara pulls out a blanket to lay out. A speaker beeps to life and Pope connects. Classics ranging from the sixties through to the noughts begin to play, encapsulating the feeling of summer. It’s hot under the sun but not uncomfortable. There’s a slight breeze that could catch someone out with thinking they’d avoid a sunburn.

“Who’s up for some waves?” JJ asks, pulling off his tee.

“Hell yeah,” John B grins.

“I’m in,” Pope agrees.

Sarah’s situated herself on the rag-tag blanket, pulling out a nail file. “I’m gonna wait a bit longer.”

Kiara is pulling out a joint and lounging back on the sand. It’s answer enough that she’s skipping out for now.

You decide to stay with the girls; wait for the waves to build some more. The guys begin to race towards the water, JJ cracking a joke to John B that earns him a shove. You shake your head as you watch the trio go. Searching around in one of the tote bags, you retrieve a packet of pretzels chips and pull it open.

“Thanks for letting me tag along today,” you say to the two girls.

“What’d you mean tag along?” Kiara frowns.

“We’ve been begging to meet you ever since JJ started hooking up with you,” Sarah tells you.

You chuckle, sceptical. “Wait? Really?”

“Yeah!” the girls chorus, making the three of you laugh.  

“God, that boy is so whipped, it’s gross,” Kiara snorts.

“It’s adorable!” Sarah corrects.

Offering around the bag to the two of them, you frown. “I don’t know about whipped…”

“Girl, you didn’t hear him,” Sarah says, amused. “After you two had been hooking up for like two weeks, he started talking about you all the time. It was hilarious.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, but he’d do it in a way that he didn’t realise he was. Like he’d just randomly have to add little bits and pieces about you into conversations,” Kiara continues.

“Thanks to him we know your favourite sandwich.”

“And your favourite colour.”

“Favourite TV show…”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” you laugh. Your face feels burning hot. Glancing out to the waves, spotting the three guys wading out on their boards, you smile to yourself. You never knew that. “That’s kinda sweet, actually.”

“So…he treating you well?” Kiara asks.

You look back to them and smile, nodding.

“It’s so weird for me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about someone before. I mean, I’ve cared a lot for people, but only like my parents and stuff. And, for most people, you’re born with that sort of affection for them, you know? But with JJ…I just felt it sort of grow until I couldn’t imagine going a day without seeing him.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you cringe. Laughing in spite of yourself, you add, “sorry. That was gross.”

“It was adorable!” Sarah is practically giddy. Kiara and you laugh. “We’ve been waiting for the right girl to get to him.”

“I knew he was a romantic at heart,” Kiara nods in agreement.

“Wait. Is he romantic?” Sarah asks, looking to you once more.

You grab another pretzel and eat it as you think.

“I guess. We’re not really the mushy-shit type couple. But he’s kind of thoughtful. Does these little things for me sometimes. Like, I told him that I used to have chocolate-covered strawberries with my nana on picnics when I was younger, and that they remind me of her. I don’t even know how it came up, really. But the next day he’d made me some as a surprise. It was kinda sweet.”

“No doy – his love language is acts of service,” Kiara shrugs. She flicks on her lighter.

“What’d you mean?”

“Like, he expresses his love and affection for people through actions,” she tells you. “I’m telling you, that’s what it is.”

“What are the other types of love language again?” Sarah wonders.

“Lemme think. There’s gift giving, words of affirmation…”

As Kiara continues to list them off, you look out to the water and mull it over. You catch sight of JJ surfing, dipping in and out of the waves, weightless like a feather, as if he were born and bred on the water. You’d played down the chocolate covered strawberries story. There was more to it then him just doing it out of the blue.

That night, the two of you had decided to watch a movie. An old classic came on – one of the Monroe films – and you went into this random spiel about how your nana used to be the biggest Monroe fan. That went into JJ asking about your family, and you nana, and you telling the chocolate strawberries story. You got a little tearful at the memory, knowing that you wouldn’t have a moment like that with her again, and JJ made a point to tell an embarrassing story from middle school gym to cheer you up. The night had gone on and you didn’t think much more of it. The next day, JJ texted you to meet him in the marsh. When you arrived, there was a blanket laid out and some snacks and drinks (mostly beer) laid out. He seemed somewhat embarrassed, as if worried it was too much. The two of you hadn’t really done an official date: mostly movie-nights and sometimes grabbing lunch purely out of hunger. But you’d never had someone do something like that for you. Then, bashful, he'd opened up a Tupperware and held it out to you, offering you a chocolate covered strawberry. Come to think, it might have been the most romantic thing anybody had ever done for you.

But telling the girls all of that felt like you might take something away from the memory. You knew JJ liked his reputation. You understood, having one of your own somewhat. The fact that he had done it without being prompted, out of the kindness of his heart and his feelings for you…It made you feel special and wanted. And what other feeling do humans crave from another, other than that? No. You’ll keep those details to yourself. They can just know about the strawberries.

“No, no, John B’s definitely a words of affirmation sort,” Sarah is saying pointedly.

Kiara’s shaking her head in disagreement. “Quality time, all the way.”

“Quality time’s Pope’s thing,” the blonde argues.

“He’s surprisingly really into words of affirmation, in his awkward Pope-ish way,” Kiara informs, taking a drag.

“Wait, I’m confused. Are you and Pope a thing?” you can’t help but ask Kiara.

She looks away from both you and Sarah as she takes another hit. The smell of weed is gradually building. “Not exactly.”

“That’s not a no,” Sarah grins, teasingly.

“And it’s not a yes,” she affirms, shooting a glare. It softens, as she struggles to find her words. “It’s a…”

“Complicated?” you offer.

She smiles at you, grateful. “Yeah. 'Complicated’.”

“I know complicated,” you chuckle. “Used to be the queen of complicated.”

“You mean like before you and JJ were official?” Sarah wonders.

You nod. Resting back on your bent arms, you sigh.

“It was so hard to tell where we stood sometimes. And whenever I’d try and start up a conversation about it, he’d get all weird and defensive and stuff.”

“Yep. That sounds like JJ,” Kiara chuckles, a little sadly.

“For the record,” Sarah chimes in. “I knew he liked you from the first time he got with you.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yeah. He just seemed lighter. Happier.”

“Sex does that to people,” you chuckle, brushing it off.

“No, I’m telling you. He was a goner from the start.”

“Did you forget the sandwich-colour-TV-show story?”

You laugh, waving them away. “I’m just pretty decent in bed, is all.”

“No kidding. You know what JJ says right?”

“Huh?”

“You don’t know!?”

“What? What don’t I know?” you worry, sitting up again.

Kiara and Sarah are making faces at each other, laughing. You confusion twists into anxiety that eases the moment Sarah looks at you again.

“Okay, okay, so we’re hanging out at the chateau one night, right?” she begins.

“And JJ’s drunk as a skunk, okay? Like really wasted.”

“And high.”

“Yeah, and high,” Kiara nods, chuckling at the memory. “So John B asks about who the girl he accidentally bumped into the hallway was, the other night.”

You throw your face into your hands with a groan. Are you ever going to live that down?

“Well, at first JJ tries to act all casual. Says you’re this side-chick he’s seeing,” Sarah continues.

“But for some reason, John B thinks that’s not the whole truth. So he starts pushing at him.”

“Eventually it all just kicks off until JJ lets slip that you’re the best sex he’s ever had,” Sarah finishes, smirking at you, almost like she’s proud.

You’re human. The indirect compliment goes straight to your head and makes it grow about ten times in size. Fighting and failing to hold off a grin, you check you heard them right.

“Really?”

The two girls nod enthusiastically.

“And, of course, we’ve never let him live it down,” Kiara smiles, sweet like a pageant queen.

Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you chuckle to yourself. This whole time, with his stupid little game of ‘best you’ve ever had?’ that he kicks up nearly every time the two of you hook-up, came from a part of him wondering if it was as good for you as it was for him. If he’s alone in feeling that way.

“I came up with the theory – which, proved to correct, might I add? – that the reason why the sex was so good is cause he had feelings for you,” Sarah proudly proclaims.

Kiara rolls her eyes as she says, “But you know JJ--”

The three of you chorus through a laugh: “deny, deny, deny.”

With that, all three of you are in hysterics. Your ribs begin to hurt from laughter. As you revel in the wonderful pain, you wonder if you’ve ever felt so at ease in your life before. It wasn’t that you didn’t have friends, but you didn’t have a group of them like this. Just people here and there who you could vent to and grab coffee with and such. But these girls liked you, and they found you funny, and they cared about what you had to say. Tied in with the added benefit of having JJ, everything felt like it was aligning just as it should.

Flopping back onto the towel, you smile at the afternoon sky. No clouds and no birds. Just endless, stretching blue.

“He’s the best sex I’ve ever had too,” you quietly confess.

The girls’ lingering giggles pause before kicking up, tenfold.

“Wait? Really?”

“Yeah,” you grin, nodding. He was. Easily. “But you tell him that, and I’ll deny it. I like that he doesn’t really know. Only has a hunch.”

“Oh yeah,” Kiara affirms. “We can’t ever give guys the satisfaction of thinking they’re actually good in bed.”

“It’s like the one thing we have,” Sarah winks.

The three of you collapse into giggles again.

~*~*~*~*~*

“What’d you think they’re talking about?” Pope asks, looking out to the shore at the girls.

The three guys are taking a moment to rest, sitting on their boards, legs dangling in the water. JJ can see you, lying on your back, basking in the sun. Sometimes your combined laughter is loud enough to travel out to the water. He feels like he can make out your distinct giggle easily.

“School maybe?” Pope continues to wonder.

“Dude, they’re one hundred percent talking about us,” JJ declares. “I bet my board on it.”

“You think so?”

“JJ’s right,” John B sighs, nodding. “I feel like Sarah and Kie have been dying to grill your girl for ages.”

JJ’s heart feels like it skips at beat at the phrase 'your girl. He never thought he’d hear someone say that to him. Never thought it would make him so happy to hear it. Huh.

“It’s weird seeing you in a relationship,” Pope says, as if reading his mind.

JJ frowns. “What? Like it’s hard to picture someone wanting to date me?”

“No, you moron. Hard to picture you settling for one girl. Honestly, I was worried you had nymphomania or something."

“Nympha-who-now?”

“It’s an addiction to sex,” Pope clarifies impatiently.

JJ grins, smug. “I mean, can’t say that I don’t have that.”

“JJ. Gross.”

“What? Like it’s a secret or something? You’re just jealous, Pope. Gotta get your dick wet,” JJ shrugs.

Now John B’s cringing. “Gross, JJ.”

“So conservative,” he jests, lying back on his board. Clasping his hands over his bare stomach that’s beginning to dry under the rays, he gazes up at the clear sky. “My girl treats me good. Not gonna apologise for bragging about it.”

“But you do you gotta do it in such a crude way?” Pope almost whines. JJ flips him off half-arsed.

“Never thought I’d see the day when JJ was pussy-whipped, but here I sit,” John B says. JJ flips him off too for good measure, then lets both arms flop back onto his stomach.

There’s your laugh again. Makes him smile.

“You guys like her though, right?” he can’t help but ask, after a moment of quiet. Nothing but the waves licking at the boards.  

“Yeah, man,” John B says.

“Course,” Pope seconds. “I think she’s a good match for you. And your out-of-control libido.”

“Pope, I swear to God, you say one more million-dollar-word and I’ll drown you.”

~*~*~*~*~*

As the afternoon turns to dusk, the beach day continues. The guys return to land and the girls take the boards out on the waves. You revive your chats from the beach out on the water, drifting into new topics outside of boys: like boxing and school and work and activism. By the time you’re walking back onto the shore, the boys have started up a fire. JJ offers you a sip of his beer as you ditch your board. You smile and accept, moving to sit between his legs. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you against him, and takes the bottle back to have another swig. Sarah settles with John B, and Kiara lounges back, her feet placed on Pope’s lap.

The music lulls out well-known hits (Come on Eileen, Build Me Up Buttercup, and the never-ending American Pie) and you bask in the warmth of the embers from the fire, drying off any speck of salt water. The bottle keeps getting handed back and forth between you and JJ, and eventually a joint joins the mix. The conversation turns easy, light-hearted jokes enhanced by the booze and weed, making everyone chuckle. Sighing, you lean your head back against JJ’s collarbones, looking up at him. He glances down at you, smiles, places a quick kiss on your lips. When his friends gently heckle the two of you, neither of you respond. As he pulls away, JJ rolls his eyes at their antics. Closing your eyes, quietly chuckling at something Pope says, you enjoy the wonderfulness of summer and your boyfriend, never wanting either thing to end.

#jj #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj fic #jj maybank fic #pogues #pogues fic #pogues preferences #outer banks #the outer banks #outer banks fic #outerbanks #outerbanks fic #obx #obx fic #obx preference #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj x fem!reader #jj fluff #jj maybank fluff #platonic!pogues x reader #platonic pogues fic

[circlebuttons]

“No outside clothes on my bed” - Rafe Cameron

ExBf! Rafe Cameron x Gender-neutral! reader

Your ex shows up drunk at your door

warnings: mentions of relapse in sobriety, mentions of c0k3 use, mentions of drinking, explicit language

800 words - short fic

You were meant to stay far far away from your ex Rafe Cameron but when he's drunk at your door can you really turn him away?

You let him lean over you as you usher him towards your room, shushing him to hopefully keep your roommate asleep, and unknowing that you opened the door for your ex that you told her all about over a bottle of wine.

Once in your room you lay him down on the floor and take pillows off of your bed to keep him propped up on his side. You go to offer him a blanket, but his eyes are half closed as he begins to pout. It was endearing how he'd act all pouty and clingy while y'all were together, but just irritating now that he's your ex.

Somehow through that irritation your old feelings for Rafe were clawing at your insides. You harshly made him sleep away from you, but you still positioned yourself to where you could monitor him. You'd always worry about him dating or not.

You stare up at the ceiling, hoping to just try your best to get through the night as contradicting emotions pulse through your body and Rafe's presence making itself more than well known, even more so when he breaks the silence, "Can I sleep with you?" he asks, voice quiet and timid.

How could you possibly say no to him when he's in such a vulnerable state? Right? Instead you let that vulnerability fuel rejection, you can reason with yourself that he's not in his right mind, and that you need stay as far away from him as possible. "No outside clothes on my bed, you know that."

He doesn't respond right away and instead you hear him start to breathe unevenly with the occasional sniffle. You shoot up and look over at the ground, his back is facing towards you, "Rafe are you crying?" you whisper yell at him in shock.

"I'm so sorry. I'm drunk" he tries to whisper, holding back his tears, trying to hold onto any dignity he can be conscious of.

"I know" You sigh heavily and throw yourself back against your bed.

“And I'm in love with you” he mumbles quietly.

His words make you flinch, “Do not.”

“I miss you, I miss you so much, I'm miserable” his voice shakes and you shut your eyes to make his words hurt less.

“You broke up with me.” And you know why he did it too, the night he relapsed on coke he called you in a panic and confessed. You couldn’t even get a word in before he broke things off, assuming you were going to do it anyways. He was right to assume that you’d be upset about his relapse, but you didn’t know in what world he thought that you’d dump him at a low like that. You wanted to be there for him, you were going to be there for him, and he unknowingly pushed you away.

“I'm fucking stupid” he slurs out and begins to incoherently ramble.

“Get some sleep Rafe” you cut him off worried he’s about to choke on his tongue.

“I thought you’d hate me” he quietly whimpers, “That why I’m sober again” he breathes in a ragged breath before finishing his sentence “But I did drink tonight”

“I know you drank” You want to laugh at his obvious drunk confession, but instead make a confession of your own, “But I am proud of you for being clean again, always have been proud” Sarah and Rafe’s friends who grew close to you often updated you on how he was doing, so you already knew he had been strongly sober although going through the motions of grieving your relationship. His ego made him think sobriety would be linear, but you knew statistically he’d relapse and you were still genuinely proud of him.

“That’s all I wanted” his sad voice and new admission tugs at your heartstrings. All he wanted was just for someone to be proud of him, Rafe Cameron had been failed by everyone and was trying to pick up all the pieces by himself.

"Get in" You can see him sit up out of your peripheral vision, and he hesitates almost as if he thinks you’re joking. You lift up the comforter, making space for him and in almost an instant he’s in your bed hugging your waist with his head in your chest. His breathing slows down a lot more than before, but you can feel his tears soak into your top. They’re hot like his body, heated by the the alcohol in his system. You can feel him lift his head, but you just close your eyes, and rub circles into his back the way he loved “Well talk in the morning”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fic #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe angst #gender neutral reader #ex boyfriend #crybabyrafe #obx #softrafe #cw relapse #fluffifyousquint

[tangerinesgirl]

Unravel

AFAB!Reader x Mark Hoffman

Word count: 1.8k

Rating: explicit, 18+, no minors

Warnings: smut, masochism, size difference, some brief talk of weight, creampie, mostly Dom!Reader but some Dom!Mark, spitting, p in v

Summary: Your ex, Mark, has no where to go after the glass coffin trap and needs your help...even though you've been on a break.

Notes: I wanted to challenge myself to write a fic that has more detail this time. Reading my works back they all seem super quick to get into the action. So let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy!

You jump out of your skin at the loud bang against your apartment door. You begrudgingly roll over to the bedside table to check your phone: 1:03AM. Sighing, you put on slippers and stagger to the door. There's a more polite knock this time as you look through the peep hole: it's Mark Hoffman.

You and Mark had a rocky relationship ever since he became an apprentice for John Kramer. You found out from his clothing being torn, covered in oil and miscellaneous substances, or just straight up gone missing, and confronted him about it. He showed you the way of the traps and Kramer's ideology, part of you was sick to your stomach thinking about how many people have died like this, but the other part of you was seriously into how he would build the traps, brainstorming ideas and coming home all hot and bothered. But in the end, you had to take a break, Mark couldn't commit to a relationship as he was essentially married to his work. What you both had was fun, but you always wanted something more.

You unlock the door and Mark tumbles into your flat and walks straight into the kitchen. When you turn around you notice his once silk blue shirt is now red, full of cuts and glass shards. You don't quite know how he got to you; did he drive? Walk? Either way it was impressive how he's still standing. He swipes the kitchen table clean and dumps a first aid kit down. "Fix me", he demands of you. You sigh, thinking about how many months have passed without hearing from him and he turns up like this out of the blue, then inevitably grab some tweezers and sterilising fluid.

Nothing more is said after that, the only sound in the room is you cutting off Hoffman's shirt. Mark had actually trained you in first aid since he started up the traps, to cover for all eventualities. Things like how to stitch a wound, fix dislocations, and so on. You didn't think you'd actually have to use it when he left. It's not exactly like he could fish out the shards himself so it made sense in a way, even though it was painful for you to see him again. Maybe not as painful as the actual glass in his back though. You carefully start removing pieces from him, every so often he flinches but stays as stoic as ever. You put each shard on the table, disinfecting the tweezers as you go. It's painstaking, especially without a word being said. There's too many thoughts whizzing around your head, you wouldn't even know where to start, so you focus on your work instead.

You dab at the wounds with wipes, you notice a couple of particularly deep ones need stitches, and few more need steri-strips. You start to unwind your thread, and begin to close them up. He still flinches and groans occasionally as you fix his wounds. You're surprised you have enough steri strips for the rest. You give it one last glance over to make sure there's no more tint hidden pieces. Once you're happy with your work, you start to pack the rest of the stuff away.

As you reach for an unused bandage, Hoffman suddenly grabs your wrist. You turn to look at him, and he looks at you, deeply into your eyes, as if to say "thank you" without actually saying it, since that wasn't really part of his nature. He then glances down briefly at your lips. He thinks you didn't notice, but you did, and you look down at his too.

There's a lot of tension in the room, and you find it extremely hot that not a word has been said in the last two, maybe three, hours. You've lost track of time, you always do when Mark is around, because nothing else matters. You start to move forward into a kiss but you stop, inches away from him. Mark looks at your lips again. Then he suddenly puts his hand on the base of your skull behind your head and grips your hair. You let out a little surprise gasp.

Then everything happens so fast.

Mark slams his lips against yours, like a man starved, his kisses are desperate and all tongues. You both lightly moan through the heavy kisses, you sit on his lap and start to drag your hand through his hair in exchange, tugging occasionally. You start grinding while on his lap, searching for more. You can feel his member through his trousers. Then you accidentally knock one the cuts on his back and he groans out in pain, however you couldn't help but notice his cock twitch as you did so, now semi erect. You both stop for a bit and share a glance, not one of humiliation but of realisation. You raise an eyebrow, intrigued, and start to purposefully play with one of his stitched wounds. Mark moans and quickly grabs your other hand that's resting on his chest.

"Stop", he commands. There's clearly some unsaid things between you and Mark. You stop and look at him, you both look at each other with need and desperation.

"I don't know how far I'll go, I can't promise I'll be gentle", Mark has danger in his eyes.

"I know", you admit. Mark was always the kind to take out a rough day at work through sex, and you had a feeling tonight was no exception. But it somehow felt different. It could be the time you've had away from each other, or whatever he experienced that night had him particularly wound up.

"Same safe word?", you ask. He nods slightly, and in a flash he's back to passionately kissing you. He lifts you up, trying to walk you to the bedroom, but can't see where he's going as he's so tied up in the moment. He slams you into a wall, you moan as the air is pushed out of you.

You break the kiss momentarily to remove your top, you must have each other now and can't wait until you're in the bedroom. Mark removes your bra, his hands replacing it. His hands are so large, one hand seems to cover your entire chest. His rough skin feels amazing on your soft breasts. You moan as you remove your underwear. Mark breaks the kiss to kick off his trousers and underwear. He catches you looking at his erection, he walks back over to you and grabs your hair.

"How do I look?", he growls in your ear. You moan and start to kiss him again.

Without warning he pushes his cock into you. You forgot how well he filled you up. He was just the right size, but girthier than average. His thickness stung a little since he slammed into you without warning, but it's a good thing you were already slick with arousal. You hold him around his neck as he's lifting you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he's slamming into you against the wall.

With him still inside you, he then carries you over to the kitchen table. It's a good thing you packed everything away earlier. You put your feet on the edge, with your back on the table. Mark continues to push inside of you, sweat starting to glisten down his forehead, onto his large chest. Somewhat hairy, but oh so broad. His frame and arms have always been a turn on for you. Sometimes he was self conscious about his weight but you found it extremely hot. Especially the way it felt on top of you.

You sit up, breaking his momentum briefly, as you can feel the table shake, becoming more and more unstable. You push him to the chair where he was sat as you were cleaning his wounds, and motioned for him to sit down. You straddle him like before, only this time you were completely naked. You haven't felt this powerful for a while. You start to ride him, reaching behind you to start and fondle his balls. He tilts his head back in pleasure, mouth wide open. You stop briefly to hold his jaw open, you look over him as a dribble of your spit travels into his mouth. You forcefully close his mouth to get him to swallow, and continue to ride him.

It's not often you're able to take charge, but you were enjoying it. Hoffman, even though he wouldn't admit it afterwards, likes to think he's dominant at heart, but also loves it when someone takes control.

Your hands start to trail down his back once again. You could feel a few of his stitches had begun to unravel. Mark hisses as you trace your fingers over them. You stop briefly, making sure he was okay with you going further. After no safe word, you continue to pluck open a wound. Mark pretty much jumps out of his seat, slamming into you as he does so. You both moan, the lines of pleasure and pain blurring. You start to dip your finger into the warmth, blood coating your finger and travelling down his body.

"Y/N, I'm gonna-", Mark trails off. You remove your finger, and smear the blood as you caress his face. Around his lips, his jaw, down to his neck.

Mark is VERY into this, he's a massive masochist and seeing you like this has his mind going into overtime. What traps could you come up with? Maybe you could come with him during the next game, getting off on your hard work, putting each other in a trap, and seeing others in them. Watching them struggle in your game, totally oblivious to you and Mark having the steamiest sex of your lives over the monitor.

At this thought, he starts to cum inside of you. The biggest orgasm of his life. You continue to ride his orgasm out of him, the amount of cum you can feel inside you also triggers your orgasm. Mark slams you down by your shoulders to get you to stop moving as his penis slowly grows softer and twitches inside of you. You collapse into Mark's chest, both of you breathless.

You both sit there for a moment, taking everything in. Mark still inside you, his cum leaking out onto the chair, onto the floor, mixing with the blood from his wound that you opened.

You eventually move and mention that you should clean him back up. Mark reluctantly agrees. Neither of you decide to put your clothes back on, as you start to disinfect the table and open your first aid kit again. You mend his stitches and clean him up, and Mark is giving you that look again. Looking at your lips, totally helpless. You sigh as you realise you'll be stitching him back up once again.

#fanfic #mark hoffman x reader #detective mark hoffman #mark hoffman #afab reader #saw #saw fanfic #hoffman x reader #mark hoffman x you #mark hoffman x y/n #hoffman x y/n #glass coffin

[dc418writes]

✨Pairing✨: trucker!Ari Levinsonxblack!reader

Summary🪄: It’s always a time when uncle Ari comes around

⚠️: uncle!Ari (just as damaging as dad!Ari and regular Ari lol) mention of nightmares, pretty much all fluff💕

A/N🎤: Hey guys! Another Halloween themed fic but this time with a softer Ari😌. This will serve as atonement to myself (and others who might be affected) for daring to make my fave dark in my last post lol. Hope you guys like it!!

*DISCLAIMER!: although visual made by me via Canva, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pics used as they were all found on Pinterest*

As expected, four year old Grace had been attached to Ari since the moment you both arrived to babysit for the night. You wouldn’t say you were upset seeing that he was her uncle and that they’ve talked nearly every day since she could babble, but there was still a little sting every time you were greeted with a quiet “hi” or short wave before she was gone and you long forgotten.

Like now as they dug through their shared pumpkin emptying it’s stringy contents while you were in charge of decorating the sugar cookies waiting on the cooling rack.

“S’cold!,” she squealed dumping out her handful of pumpkin guts.

“Be careful of the seeds, you swallow one and a huge pumpkin’s gonna grow in your belly,” Ari warned to which little Grace quickly shook her head.

“Nuh-uh!”

“Uh-huh!”

“No uncle Ari, we can eat. See?” Before either of you can say anything, she’s quick to set one on her tongue happily chewing until she can swallow it down rubbing her belly. “I’m fine.”

“I guess you showed me huh,” he chuckles tapping her nose and leaving some juice from his finger on her skin successfully turning it light orange. Grace is quick to retaliate though rubbing her hands on his cheeks to leave behind tiny pieces of string as she giggles - and you do too from the other side of the kitchen.

Honestly you couldn’t blame her for picking Ari over you as her favorite. You’d choose him too if you had to pick between the two of you.

“Alright, it’s pretty much cleaned out now. You want scary or funny?,” he asks watching as she adorably tapped her tiny finger to her temple in thought.

“Hmm…funny!”

“Got it,” he nods. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and help your aunt with cookies?”

“I got everything we could ever want Grace,” you smile reaching in your grocery bag full of decorating goodies. “There’s sprinkles - three different shapes I might add - glitter, edible stickers, and stencils to help us draw shapes!”

The way she gazed at the sprinkles with her mouth in a little “o”, you think you’ve got her. Finally able to bond with her over a shared love of cookies like you were in one of those Hallmark movies. Like a little happy family.

“Um..wanna stay with uncle Ari.”

Well, so much for that.

“Oh okay,” you answer successfully hiding your hurt behind your nonchalance. Ari still notices though giving you a sympathetic smile and mouthing, “sorry.”

You appreciated him trying, but maybe you were just meant to be the fun uncle’s wife that barely got a hello. And who tends to go overboard with cookie decorating supplies.

•

“Alright ladies are we ready?,” Ari asks sitting on the navy blue sectional between you and a bouncy Grace nodding yes. During your spaghetti dinner - made by Ari since apparently his was the best although he used your recipe - he suggested that you all watch a movie afterwards.

Specifically, Gremlins.

His thought process being what better way for everyone - more so you and Grace - to spend time together than to watch a movie? Especially a spooky one seeing that it was the night before Halloween. You, on the other hand, had a few concerns on his niece potentially being scared of the little troublesome creatures.

“She’ll be fine. It’s not that scary,” he assured kissing your cheek.

Freshly bathed and in her appropriately themed pumpkin pajamas, Grace couldn’t wait holding on tight to her Mickey Mouse blanket as she watched her uncle press play.

“Share with me!,” she smiles just as Ari spreads the bigger, cream blanket over both yours and his lap.

“I’m not gonna fit though bug.”

“Uh huh! Watch,” she states crawling into his lap and neatly spreading the grey blanket over her legs and his thighs. You - again - casted off to the side with your blanket as she tilts her head back to look up at him. “We fit!”

“Y-Yea, looks like we do.” He gives you another sympathetic smile draping his arm around your shoulders while you bundle deeper under the blanket.

“I’d rather be by myself anyway. Little does she know her uncle is a blanket hog,” you think trying to make yourself feel better.

•

Ari appeared to be right on Grace not being scared. She even fell asleep towards the end with her upper half on the cushion next to them and lower half still on his lap; mouth wide open pointed towards the ceiling. Ari was the one to tuck her in bed, while you cleaned up the blankets and plates of cookie crumbs left in the living room.

You were the last to enter the shared guest room to finally get ready for bed yourself. Your love struck husband taking turns gazing at you and the last period of some hockey game as you strode back and forth from the bathroom to the bedroom. A small, dopey smile on his lips watching you wash your face and apply all your products.

“Share with me?,” he pouts with those puppy eyes making you giggle while sliding into the full sized bed.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, “I feel like Grace is gonna somehow come in saying how she wants you to sleep in her room instead because that’s where you’re supposed to be.”

Yes probably a little petty, but you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

His tattooed arms bring you closer into his body pecking the top of your head as you settle between his pecs. A low “aw” vibrating in his chest while his hands rub along your back.

“I know I probably sound jealous, but I’m not. I love how you have a great relationship with your niece! But it’s like she hates me and I have no idea what I did.”

He knew that had always been a bit of a fear for you. Kids hating you for whatever reason, thus meaning you shouldn’t have them although you did desire to be a mother one day. It’s why you were nervous meeting Grace all those years ago, afraid that the smallest mess up would ruin everything.

It didn’t help that the minute Ari passed her to you, she began whining and squirming. Your coos of comfort and gentle rocks didn’t seem to help, only making her more agitated not getting what she wanted. She didn’t stop until she was back in Ari’s strong arms and you kept your distance the rest of the visit cautious of a repeat interaction.

If only he could get you to ignore that fear and really see how everyone you met - adults and children alike - had no issues with you. Some even left enchanted by the charisma you thought you lacked.

“I promise, she doesn’t hate you gorgeous.”

“She said so?,” you quietly ask lifting your head with a hint of hope.

“Well…no. But she didn’t say the opposite either.” He tried to soothe your qualms, but it’s not helping the way he hoped watching your head fall back to his chest with a light huff. “Trust me sweetheart. I guess she’s just attached to me because-,”

“You’re amazing and clearly the favorite,” you mumble making him chuckle.

“I was gonna say because I talk to her more, but I’ll take the compliment.”

It’s not long after that you’re both falling asleep lulled by the shared warmth from holding each other. Ari’s soft snores vibrating the side of your face still lying on his chest.

You think you’re dreaming when a mix of a whine and cry hits your ears disrupting your rest and making you groggily sit up. Hearing feet shuffling outside your door though confirms those sounds are in fact real, giving you more motivation to investigate.

Your husband’s too far gone in his own dreamland to be affected by your moving; still lightly snoring with an arm over his forehead and the other out by his side.

Quietly opening the door, you wrap your arms around yourself in your thin pajama set feeling the chill of the night air seeping into your sister in law’s house before carefully padding out to the living room. There, you notice something on the couch moving under the blanket you folded earlier causing you to freeze in place. It was then you realized you probably should’ve woken Ari up so he could be the one playing detective or at least grabbed something you could use to defend yourself.

“H-Hello?,” you call out to the dim space only lit by a couple plug in nightlights in the walls.

“Hi,” Grace’s soft voice responds with a short sniffle.

You also realize how you’re sleepy brain might not be fully thinking straight unable to conclude earlier how it could just be your own niece sitting there on the couch.

Stepping closer, you sit on the cushion next to hers peeling back the cotton throw until you see her splotchy face and red eyes. Water attached to her curled lashes and some still threatening to spill over. “What’s wrong?”

“Bad dream…gwemlins,” she answers using the blanket to wipe her eyes. You immediately hug her close as you coo and assure her everything’s okay.

And surprisingly, she hugs you back.

Her tiny arms wrap tight around you - well, as far as they could with her adorably short reach - almost refusing to let you go.

“Yea, when they get angry they can be scary huh?”

She nods. “And have very very sharp teeth.”

“They do, but luckily they’re not real so there’s nothing-,”

A crash from the back room startles both of you making Grace scream, with the six year old nearly choking you now having her arms around your neck.

“It’s them!,” she cries hiding her face in your shoulder just as Ari limps into the living room holding his knee and appearing half asleep.

“Damn dresser,” he grumbles wiping his eyes that quickly fill with concern seeing both of you on the couch and his niece upset. “What’s wrong?”

“Grace had a nightmare about Gremlins,” you answer pointedly glaring at him as if saying, “I told you so!”

The slight wince on his face isn’t just from an uncomfortable knee as he walks forward to perch on the coffee table. “I’m sorry bug. I didn’t mean to show that to you to scare you.”

“Not nice uncle Ari,” she mumbles still attached to you.

“Forgive me?,” he pouts holding his arms out for a hug. “Peas?”

Wiping her eyes one last time, a small smile begins to spread on her lips as she moves from you to Ari. A fit of giggles rapidly escaping her mouth as his larger body practically swallows hers in a bear hug and he attacks her cheeks with kisses. A dramatic “mwah” sounding every time he made contact causing you to giggle as well.

And fantasize the undoubtedly joyful future you’d both have with your own children.

“Don’t do it again!,” she chastises when he stops. Wagging her finger inches from his nose making him chuckle. She was definitely her mother’s child.

“I promise I won’t.”

“Alright guys,” you sigh, “Since it’s gonna be a bit difficult to go back to sleep, I say we watch something happy.”

“Not Gwemlins!”

“No definitely not,” you chuckle. “I was thinking..Aladdin.”

“Yay! I love Aladdin!,” she claps in Ari’s arms as he picks her up so they both can sit on the couch. To both of your surprise, Grace crawls from her uncle’s lap and squeezes between you and Ari. “You like too?”

“Mhm, I even went as Princess Jasmine for Halloween when I was little.” You have to admit, seeing that gleam of admiration in her eyes as she gazed up at you made you silently thank Ari for showing her that movie. It was the reason behind this bonding moment that you didn’t think would happen.

As the movie played, you and Grace talked about the scenes and of course sung along to your heart’s content not caring if you were off key. All the while Ari watched you both with a soft smile on his pink lips loving how fast of friends you’d become.

And when you both fell asleep - you leaning on his shoulder and her across your lap - he couldn’t help but sneakily take a picture with his phone. Sending it to you with a message saying “looks like you’re amazing and a clear favorite too😉”.

#ari levinson #ari levinson x black!reader #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x woc #ari levinson au #red sea diving resort #chris evans #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x woc!reader

[wooahaes]

a little less daunting

pairing: non-idol!3racha & gn!reader

genre: comfort fic.

word count: ~0.7k

warnings: reader is Going Through It. food mentions. depression mentions.

daisy's notes: i need them :(

Sometimes it felt like your friends always  knew when you needed them the most. Case in point: they had shown up to your apartment with homemade food while you were in the throes of your third crying fit in the past few hours. The bad part was that they had caught you, but the good part… Well… You trusted them, plain and simple, to be kind to you now. It was hard getting to this point, sure, but the feeling of Changbin’s arms around you was unmatched by anything else.

Chris had taken initiative, his hug warm but fleeting as he called Jisung over to help him set your little dining table so the four of you could enjoy dinner together. Changbin, on the other hand, had settled into his task pretty easily: hugging you. His arms were strong around you, making you silently thankful for how often the guy worked out. He was built like a teddy bear in your opinion (as were Chris and Jisung—maybe you had a type when it came to close friendships…?), and just as snuggly as one. Every time you tried to pull away, he’d whine at you. Of course, you knew Changbin well enough to know that if you needed to get up, he’d let you go the moment you said something. Changbin knew you well enough to know that too much affection made you feel guilty.

So did Chris and Jisung. That was kind of the reason Chris told Changbin to “not let you go” unless necessary. 

“You guys really don’t have to do this,” you said, arms wrapped around Changbin now (he’d let you go long enough to let you turn around, so you could fully embrace how cuddly he was). “I mean it.”

“And I’ve already told you that we wanted to,” Chris was rooting around in one of the drawers. “Did you rearrange shit?”

You suddenly remembered your two-in-the-morning need to do something, to rearrange something, and how that manifested in you dumping out your drawers, washing everything inside, and rearranging everything. There was a reason you’d been using and rewashing the same few utensils for the past few days. “... Maybe.”

Changbin squeezed you a little tighter, raising his voice as he looked to Chris, “Check the other drawer already, we’re hungry.”

Jisung pulled open the drawer closest to the sink and immediately found what he and Chris been looking for. “Why are they over here…?”

“Because I thought moving the drawer next to the sink would make doing dishes easier,” you whined. “And now every time I’m by my microwave, I keep reaching into the wrong drawer.” 

Chris shook his head, already opening up a cabinet to find cups. “I’ll fix it.” 

“You don’t have to—”

“It’s fine,” he said. “When’s the last time you cleaned?”

For a moment, you said nothing. When was the last time you really cleaned…? You’d been decent about bagging up and taking your trash out, but washing things and whatnot? 

“Nevermind. We’ll take care of it,” Chris sighed, shaking his head. Fuck, you failed again. He set the cups aside, making his way over to wrap his arms around you and Changbin. “If you’re struggling, all you have to do is call me. I’ll come over.” 

“Call us,” Jisung said as he quickly approached. “That’s what we’re here for.”

Part of you wanted to refute it. They were your close friends, nothing more—but Chris had always insisted that you all were practically family now. Instead, you stayed silent, and shut your eyes for a moment, just savoring the warmth of having friends who loved you showing it in so many ways. You felt the kiss that Chris pressed against the top of your head before he pulled away, saying something about how he’d looked up some of those recipes you’d talked about before and hopefully made the right one. He’d dragged Changbin and Jisung over to his place hours ago just to make a couple other things for the four of you to share…

And suddenly the world felt a little less daunting, at least for a minute.

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