#also hands and really everything going on in that first scene hello

[exdeputysonso]

Brad Dourif as Byron Stamphill | Murder in the First (1995)

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

warnings: creampie, breeding, knotting, wolf hybrid!reader x bunny hybrid, reader is described as taller and bigger

A/N: this was a kofi request. Also for Momo fans, I have stickers of him in my kofi shop!

To most people, you and your lover were a strange pair. After all, you were a wolf hybrid, and him a tiny bunny hybrid. They assumed you were the boss in the relationship, running everything behind the scenes.

Oh how wrong they were.

You met him at a party. It was late and you didn’t drink, so you were getting uncomfortable around all of the people that were already drunk off of their asses.

Several of your female friends had begged you to come with them, wanting a designated driver. They convinced you it would be tame fun and you’d meet a decent guy there.

Unfortunately, every other wolf hybrid male you were interested in was either drunk off their ass or making out with some other hybrid.

It saddened you, sometimes, to know cute little squirrel and puppy hybrid girls your age could easily get a wolf hybrid boyfriend, when the reverse wasn’t true for you

Anytime you dated outside of predator hybrids, the prey male you were with would want you to dominate them. You weren’t interested in that, though. All you wanted was a dominant man that didn’t care about your size.

“Hey, you alright?”

You glanced to your left, seeing no one until the person cleared their throat. “Down here…”

There was a small, smiling bunny hybrid standing right next to. How long had they been there?

“Hello… and yeah… I’m alright,” you answered slowly, quickly looking away. You weren’t really in the mood to try and help someone get with one of your cuter hybrid friends, which is why you assumed he was talking to you.

The bunny hybrid’s fluffy ear twitched, and he offered a hand. “C’mon, you don’t seem to be having fun. We can go outside and get some fresh air if you’d like.”

This gave you pause. A smaller hybrid was worried about you? Most would avoid an upset predator hybrid, not wanting to be bitten or attacked… but instead he offered a helping hand.

It almost made you feel like a princess.

Your cheeks heated up, and you took his hand gratefully. “Thank you, um…”

“Momo, you can call me Momo.”

The two of you left the party, walking out into the fresh air to gather yourselves. His white hair seemed to almost shine in the moonlight, and your heart thumped in your chest when he caught you staring,

“Yeah, I get it. You’re not used to being left alone at parties. You’re pretty after all, I’m sure all the wolf hybrids want to snatch you up.”

If only that was the case.

“Actually… male wolf hybrids tend to focus on pretty, smaller hybrids like bunnies and deer. It’s… uncommon for me to go home with anyone after a party.”

Uncommon was an understatement. The only time you brought home a wolf hybrid, he instead wnet for your roommate who happened to be a pretty deer hybrid. It was so frustrating!

“That’s a shame. You’re really pretty, I’m sure you’ll be mated soon.”

Again, you felt your heart race at his words. Momo leaned against the railing, his yellow eyes trailing up and down your body. “Mmm, are you against me coming home with you?”

Now that took you by surprise. You had always asked first, never being sought after. With a shake of your head, Momo grabbed your hand.

“C’mon then, let’s ditch this lame party. We can order some pizza and chill at your place or mine, whichever makes you more comfortable.”

Him, a little bunny, worried about your comfort? You were pretty much swooning at this point!

The two of you spent the ride home chatting, and sat on your couch eating pizza and watching some romcom that was more comedy than romance. It had the two of you laughing your asses off at how cheesy the little romance bits were…

Soon enough though, you felt his hand slowly move across the couch and settle onto your thigh. You made no move to pull away, instead you scooted closer, allowing his hand to move to your clothed pussy.

This was the first time anyone had reached out to touch you like this. You had been close to fucking another person before, but always got turned off by having to do everything first.

Now, you were being pursued, touched confidently. His fingers rubbed at your clothed breath, his chest pressed against your side while his breath fanned across your neck.

“Mmm, you’re getting wet already…”

Your scent was driving him crazy, and Momo was barely holding back the urge to pin you down.

For a moment you worried that he would back off and wait for you to take over. Would he be just like the rest, and expect you to dominate him?

When Momo sensed you shy away slightly, his bunny ears twitched and he grabbed your chin.

Turning you to look at him, he hummed softly and leaned forward. “Getting nervous? I can show you what to do…”

You felt your panties grow damp at his words. Momo pushed you down slowly, his cotton tail wagging as he climbed on top of you.

“Mmph… you’re gorgeous, you know? So cute…”

He kissed down your neck, marveling at the strength in your large hands. If you wanted to, you could crush him in a second.

Yet here he was, keeping you pinned underneath him as he pulled your panties off.

With your cunt on full display, he grinned. “There’s my pretty girl… she wants me so bad, doesn’t she?” he cooed, dipping a finger into your folds. It was slick with your arousal when he pulled it out.

“C’mon, have a taste.”

Your eyes fluttered closed as you sucked your own juices from his finger. It felt too good, being bossed around like this…

“Such a good girl for me, aren’t you? Need a reward…”

He pumped his fingers in and out of your wet cunt, watching as your pussy squelched with each movement. Momo could see how desperate you were to mate, and groaned as your walls fluttered around his fingers.

For a bunny hybrid, Momo was hung. When he pulled down his pants, you were left speechless. You had seen a few buns in porn before, and none of their cocks came close to rivaling his.

As it hardened up, it grew even larger, making you blink in surprise. Only your own fingers and Momo’s had ever entered your pussy, and now he was about to put THAT in you?

Your cheeks flushed as he played with your clit to help prep you. A coo left his lips, and he smiled when your hips bucked uncontrollably. “Shh, I’ve got you. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

He nibbled on your neck, his little bunny teeth making you giggle as he did his best to loosen you up. “It’s gonna be okay, I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

His fingers moved in and out of you as his cock throbbed. It seemed every time he pumped into your tight cunt, he became more antsy. It was clear he wanted it to be his cock making you whimper and writhe, but he had to ensure you were stretched out enough to take him.

Momo truly cared about you and your pleasure…to him, you were a pretty girl that was afraid of your first time. You weren’t a looming monster or some scary predator that others made you out to be.

“I-I’m ready…”

You found it cute how excited he got at your words. Momo’s fluffy cotton tail wagged furiously as his cock lined up with your needy, dripping pussy.

“A kiss…” he murmured, pressing the head of his cock against your hole. “Muah~”

Feeling his cock stretch you out felt both painful and sweet. His fingers were entertwined with yours, his lips on your neck as he cooed sweet nothings.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you. Shh…”

Despite the fact you were nearly double his size, Momo was worried for you, checking your face for any discomfort before he bottomed out.

“Feels funny,” you muttered as he kissed away the tears on your cheeks. “Like I’m being torn apart…”

He gave your cheek a few affectionate licks, his soft pink nose nuzzling you as he moved his hips slightly to help you get used to it all.

“I know… it’ll pass, I promise.”

He toyed with your clit, flicking and prodding the sensitive bud while his free hand held onto your hip. Your cunt was so tight, he really didn’t want to hurt you…

Slowly, you loosened up enough that he could pull his hips back and fully fuck back into you. A gasp escaped your lips, and your claws dug into the soft flesh of his back as he started a steady, slow rhythm.

“F-fuck…” Momo groaned, his cock twitching inside of you. The pleasurable feeling or your claws in his skin made him feel feral, and he bit down on your shoulder to tell you who was in control.

Momo slowly picked up speed, his bunny teeth digging into your sensitive flesh. It felt like you were being mounted and ravaged by a wolf hybrid with the way he was pounding into you. Every thrust made your tits bounce, and soon that caught his attention.

He took one of your nipples into his mouth, looking up through his thick white lashes as he suckled softly. The combined pleasure of being fucked and your tits being groped made you cum all over him.

Momo let out a shuddering groan, his eyes rolling back in his head as your pussy clenched and unclenched around his throbbing cock in your first orgasm of the night.

“There’s my girl, you’re doing… so well…” Momo said between moans, his nails digging into your hips as he held himself back from cumming inside of you then and there.

He lifted one of your legs over your shoulder, and you felt his tip hit somewhere deep inside of you, making your eyes widen.

All you could see was stars, your tail wagging lazily as he leaned down to capture your lips in a heated kiss.

When he pulled away, he grinned down at you, panting between words. “F-fuck… you’re beautiful like this…”

And as he said the last word, his hips slammed into you and cum painted your gummy walls, filling you up as he cried out in ecstasy. Momo’s tongue tangled with yours, and his hips kept slapping against yours as he bred you thoroughly.

His knot swelled up, keeping all of his seed inside of you as the two of you began to recover.

“Did you… really mean that..?” you asked suddenly as he gazed down at you with lovesick eyes. “That… I’m beautiful? I’m… not what you should want… y’know, instinctually…”

He tilted his head, and for a moment you worried that you said the wrong thing. You just figured a bunny hybrid such as himself would rather be with a smaller female hybrid!

“Mmm, I meant what I said, and you’re the one I chose to go home with.”

He cupped your cheek, caressing it lightly. Momo gave your chubby cheeks more soft kisses before he moved to lay on top of you.

“You’re so soft and warm… ahh…”

One of his hands gave your belly a playful squish, his cotton tail wagging mischievously. “I’ve never meant a girl like you before. You’re… perfect for me.”

The two of you lied there, basking in the afterglow of sex. It smelled nice, the combination of your scents. Perhaps… you could even get used to it.

“Momo… we should do this again sometime. It was nice.”

He tilted his head, his bunny ears flicking as he looked up at you. “Of course we’ll do this again… we’re a mated pair now. Bunnies are quite horny you know. In fact…”

Momo straightened up again, his cock already hard and ready for more. You blinked, your eyes widening as he lined up with your pussy.

“I think I’m ready for round two.”

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi @flamefoxx @sandramalikstyles-blog @breathingstarlight

[cowboybeepboop]

Addicted

"But you're different. You've got me on my damn knees here, and I don't even care."

“On your knees? Now that's something I’d like to see.”

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut, romantic

Word count: 5.4k

Summary: A one night stand with Hangman leaves him desperate and begging for more.

Warnings: Public sex, making Jake beg, p in v sex, riding him, oral fem receiving, unprotected sex.

a/n: Not really much to say other than I hope you enjoy <3 Also send any requests my way, could be for anything :)

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the airstrip as the jets roared by, their engines a deafening symphony that seemed to shake the very earth beneath your feet. You had always loved this time of day, the way the light painted everything in hues of gold and red, making even the most mundane tasks feel like a scene from a Hollywood blockbuster. But today, the sight of the planes brought with it a feeling of anxiety rather than excitement. Training with Maverick was intense, and as one of the few women in the program, you knew you had to be twice as good to be considered half as good.

The bar was dimly lit, the kind of place where pilots went to unwind after a long day of pushing the limits of gravity. You scanned the room, spotting the familiar faces of your colleagues, all of them men. The only other woman present was Nat, known as Phoenix, a fellow Top Gun graduate who had become your closest ally in this male-dominated world. She sat at the bar, her eyes lighting up as she saw you, offering a nod that seemed to say, "You can handle this."

Bob, with his boyish grin and easy-going demeanor, was the first to stand up and greet you. He pulled out a chair, offering it with a gallant flourish. "You're looking as sharp as ever, Y/N," he said, his voice carrying a hint of admiration that made your cheeks warm. You sat down, grateful for the respite from the catcalls and lewd comments that had been thrown your way since you walked in.

As you chatted with Bob and Phoenix, you couldn't help but notice the blond man across the room, his eyes locked on you like a homing missile. You had heard rumors about him—Hangman, they called him—a cocky pilot with a reputation for leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake. His stare was unnerving, a silent challenge that seemed to say, "I'm going to make you mine." You ignored him, focusing on the conversation and the cold beer in your hand, but the heat of his gaze was impossible to ignore.

As you’re sitting with the two, talking, the man starts walking over towards you, coming to a stop next to Phoenix with a smirk on his handsome face. You look up at him curiously while Nat gives him a stern glare. “What do you want, Bagman?” she questions him with an accusatory tone.

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, standing beside her, leaning his hip against the bar. "Can't a guy say hello without getting into trouble?" He joked, his eyes flickering over to you.

He looked you up and down slowly, a cocky grin on his lips. "I don't think we've met before." He muses, extending his hand out. "I'm Hangman, but you can call me Jake."

“I’m Y/N.” you ignore his extended hand, leaning closer to Bob to add distance between you and Hangman.

He raised an eyebrow as you ignored his hand, a smirk playing at his lips. "Playing hard to get, huh?" He teased, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's cute."

He glanced over at Bob for a moment, taking his hand back and stuffing it in his pocket. "You two a thing?" He asked casually, his eyes flickering over to you again.

Bob opens his mouth to deny being with you. “Actually, yes we are.” you grin, taking Bob’s hand in your own. Right now you were relying on him to take the hint and play along with you.

Hangman's smirk faded slightly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you and Bob holding hands. He couldn't deny that he was a little surprised, he assumed you were friends. He tried to brush it off, but a hint of jealousy stirred inside him.

Unfortunately your plan to get Hangman to back off by pretending to date Bob, was going less than swimmingly. It seems he doesn’t care whether you're already spoken for or not. The evening drags on with him still sending heated glances full of desire your way.

Eventually, you decide to call it a night, as you say your goodbyes and start to head out of the bar, Hangman's attention is immediately caught by your departure. He watches you exit, his eyes following you as you make your way to your jeep.

He debates for a moment, contemplating whether or not to follow you. His desire wins out, and he makes up his mind to follow you. He says his own goodbyes to the group and discreetly follows you outside, keeping a couple of paces behind you.

“Are you going to say something? Or are you just planning to keep following me like some creep?” you lean against the hood of your car, arms crossing under your chest, eyes narrowing at him.

Hangman freezes as you turn around and call him out. He hadn't expected you to notice him so quickly.

He smirks and steps closer, closing the distance between you both. "Just admiring the view," he drawls, his eyes roaming over your form shamelessly.

“Oh is that so?” you hum, gazing up at him with an unreadable expression.

"Absolutely." He nods and leans against the jeep beside you, standing so close that your bodies nearly touch.

He looks down at you, his eyes darkening slightly. "You and Bob, huh?" He comments casually, a hint of a taunt in his tone.

“Are you jealous?” you reply with a teasing smile.

He lets out a scoff, pretending not to be affected. "Me? Jealous? Please." He rolls his eyes, but there's a flicker of something in his gaze that gives him away.

He turns to face you fully, his arm resting on the jeep behind you, trapping you in. "I just don’t get why you're settling for Bob." He says, lowering his voice. "What's so special about him, hm?"

“I’m not *settling* for Bob,” you hop up on the car, sitting on the hood with your legs crossed. “He’s a gentleman, very sweet, and damn cute.”

Hangman's eyes flicker over your body for a moment, watching as you hop onto the hood and cross your legs.

He grumbles under his breath, slightly annoyed that you didn’t seem to get his point.

"Yeah, Yeah, he’s sweet and cute, whatever. I can be sweet and cute too, you know. Sometimes." He counters, trying to sound casual and nonchalant.

“So you are jealous.” you giggle, leaning back on your palms, uncrossing your legs. “And what makes you so special?”

He glares at you, his jealousy bubbling to the surface. "I'm Hangman, sweetheart. I’m the best, hottest, and most talented pilot there is." He says confidently, his ego on full display.

He steps even closer to you, his body slotting between your legs now. He gazes down at you, his hand resting near your hip. "I could show you a good time, unlike Bob."

You flick your tongue out, licking your bottom lip. “A good time hm?” you wrap your legs around his hips pulling him against you.

A small gasp leaves Hangman's lips as you pull him closer, his body automatically responding to your touch. He places his hands on your hips, his grip firm but not rough. He looks at you through hooded eyes, his gaze dark and full of desire.

"You have no idea." He practically growls, his body pressed against yours.

“Sounds inviting,” you murmur, with a small smirk. “But I don’t make a habit of sleeping with coworkers… especially when I have a boyfriend.” your tone is teasing.

Hangman's eyes narrow as you remind him of your supposed relationship with Bob. He leans closer, his nose nearly touching yours.

"Please," he retorts, his breath lightly tickling your skin. "We both know you're not actually dating him. I saw the way he looked at Phoenix earlier. He's got it bad for her, not you."

“While that may be true,” you let go of his waist, pushing his chest with your hand. “My point still stands. I don’t sleep with my coworkers.”

Hangman stumbles back a step, a mix of disappointment and frustration on his face. "Oh come on," he runs a hand through his hair, "We're both adults here. Don't tell me you don't feel the chemistry between us."

He steps closer to you again, his hand reaching out to gently grip your chin, tilting your head up towards him. "One night, no strings attached. It can be our little secret."

“A one night stand..” you bite down on your bottom lip, “Are you sure you’ll be able to walk away after one night?”

He chuckles, his hand moving from your chin to cup your cheek. "Sweetheart, one night with me and you'll be the one struggling to walk." He says with a cocky smirk, his tone confident and full of male arrogance.

He leans in closer, his lips hovering just above yours. "I guarantee you'll be begging for more."

“I guarantee you’ll be the one doing the begging.” your hand goes to the back of his head, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. Hangman's smug expression quickly vanishes as you pull him in, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss filled with fire and desire.

He lets out a low growl, his hands grabbing your hips and pressing you even tighter against him. He devours the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a possessive fervor. As he finally breaks the kiss, his breathing heavy, he looks at you with feral eyes. "Don't underestimate me, sweetheart. I never beg."

“Get in the car,” you brush your hand down his chest, fingers ghosting over his erection. “Let’s go somewhere a little more comfortable.” Hangman's breath hitches as your fingers brush against his bulge, the touch sending a shiver through his body. He nods eagerly, a mix of impatience and anticipation on his face.

"Alright, alright. You lead the way." He steps back, letting you get off the hood and move around to the driver's side. He opens the passenger door and gets in, his eyes on you watching your every move.

The drive to the apartment is filled with tension, Hangman's hands occasionally drifting to your thigh or hip, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

As you enter the apartment and make your way towards the bedroom, Hangman's hands remain on your waist, his grip firm and possessive. He's practically glued to your back, the scent of his cologne filling your nose.

"You're driving me crazy, you know that?" He mutters into your ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. You turn around in his grasp, pressing a heated kiss to his lips, your own hands sliding down his body.

He groans into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you as close as possible. He returns the kiss with equal fervor, his tongue exploring your mouth with a possessive intensity.

His hands roam over your body, sliding down your curves and gripping your hips. His touch is almost bruising, his need for you evident in every move he makes. He walks you backwards towards the bed, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving small kisses and bites in their wake.

The back of your legs hit the edge of the bed, and Hangman guides you to sit down, his hands never leaving your body. He stands between your legs, looking down at you with dark, hungry eyes.

Hangman's hands, strong and insistent, began to pull away the fabric that separated your bodies, his movements quick and sure. Your shirt was the first to go, lifted over your head and tossed aside with the ease of a man used to getting what he wanted.

His eyes roamed over your bare torso, drinking in the sight of your firm breasts, the peaks of your nipples pebbled with desire. He reached for the clasp of your bra, his fingers deftly unhooking it before sliding the straps down your arms, leaving it to fall away and expose you fully to his heated gaze.

With a smirk, he went for the button of your jeans, his eyes never leaving yours. As the zipper lowered, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband and tugged, pulling them down your hips and over your thighs. You helped him, lifting your legs one by one, allowing him to remove your shoes and socks as well, leaving you in only your underwear.

His own clothes followed suit, the sound of fabric rustling and buttons popping filling the room as he stripped away his shirt, revealing the taut muscles of his chest and abs. His jeans were next, the leather belt unbuckling with a snap before the denim hit the floor, leaving him in his boxers.

He stepped closer, his hands sliding up your bare legs to the band of your underwear. With a single, fluid motion, he hooked his fingers in the fabric and dragged it down, leaving you completely bare before him.

You felt a rush of cool air against your skin as he stepped back to appreciate the view, his eyes dark with lust as they traveled over your body. You sat on the edge of the bed, watching him as he removed his own boxers, his erection springing free and bobbing slightly with his every movement.

Your heart raced in your chest, the anticipation of what was to come making your stomach flip-flop. His hand reached for yours, pulling you to stand and bringing your bodies flush together. His erection pressed against your stomach, hot and demanding.

You felt his breath on your neck as he kissed along your collarbone, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Your hand found its way to the back of his neck, holding him closer as he continued to kiss and nibble his way down your body.

The feel of his bare chest against yours was electric, sending waves of heat through you. His hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You felt his thumbs brush over your hardened nipples, and a moan escaped your lips as he rolled them gently, teasing and pinching just enough to make you arch into his touch.

He was methodical in his exploration, as if he were memorizing every inch of your body. With a sudden surge of confidence, you pushed him against the mattress, surprising him with your strength.

He chuckled, his eyes flashing with excitement as you slid on top of him, straddling his hips. You lined his hardness up with your wet heat, feeling the tip of him nudge against your entrance. The sensation made you gasp, your eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment.

Opening them again, you stared down at him, a challenge in your gaze. Without a word, you began to ride him, your hips moving in a rhythm that was both agonizingly slow and incredibly sensual.

He watched you, his eyes hooded with desire as he felt your wetness envelop him. His hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he held on for dear life, letting you set the pace.

His breath was ragged in your ear, his voice a low murmur of encouragement as you rocked against him. You felt him swell inside you, his length filling you completely, and you knew he was close to the edge.

You leaned forward, pressing your chest to his, your breasts smashing against his skin. The friction was maddening, and you couldn’t help but increase your pace, chasing your own release.

His hands slid up your back, gripping your shoulders as he pulled you down for a deep, claiming kiss. His tongue danced with yours as his hips began to meet your movements, the two of you moving in perfect sync.

The bed creaked beneath you, the only sound in the room aside from the ragged breaths and soft moans that filled the space. The tension grew, a coil tightening in your stomach, signaling the approaching climax.

You felt his muscles tense underneath you, his grip on your hips tightening, and you knew he was close. You leaned back, letting him take over, his hands guiding your hips as he drove into you with a ferocity that had you seeing stars.

Each thrust was a declaration of dominance, a claim of what was his. You threw your head back, crying out his name as the orgasm washed over you, your body convulsing with pleasure.

The world around you faded away, leaving only the feeling of his skin against yours, the sound of your mingled breaths, and the exquisite sensation of his cock buried deep inside you. As the waves of pleasure subsided, you collapsed against him, your chest heaving with exertion.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you tight as your bodies remained connected, both of you lost in the aftermath of the passionate encounter. For a moment, there was only silence, only the sound of your hearts beating in sync.

Then, with a soft chuckle, Hangman leaned his forehead against yours. "You're something else, Y/N." He whispered, his voice filled with a mix of awe and satisfaction.

You couldn’t help but smile, your breath still coming in short gasps. "I aim to please," you murmured, before pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.

He rolled you over onto your back, his body still inside of yours, and began to move again, slower this time, more deliberate. He wanted to savor this moment, to make it last as long as possible. He kissed along your collarbone, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he thrust into you, his eyes never leaving yours.

The kisses grew more intense, his teeth sinking into your skin, leaving small marks. You didn’t protest, instead, you arched into the pain, your nails digging into his back as he claimed you once again.

This time, the passion was more intense, more raw, as if the first time was just the beginning of something much more powerful.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, casting shadows across the wall as your bodies moved together. The bed rocked beneath you, the headboard thumping rhythmically against the wall, a silent testament to the passion that had overtaken you both.

As the second climax approached, you felt yourself tighten around him, your body begging for release. He groaned, his movements growing erratic, his need for you consuming him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he reached his peak, filling you with his warmth.

Finally, with one last, powerful thrust, he stilled, his body collapsing next to yours. You both lay there, panting and trembling, the sweat from your bodies mingling on the cool sheets. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go.

__________

The next few weeks are filled with tension between you and Jake. Where you are seemingly unaffected by the night you shared, Jake can't shake the memory of the night he shared with you.

He replays every moment in his head, relishing every touch, every kiss, every sound you made. He tries to ignore the way his heart skips a beat whenever he sees you, the way his eyes keep finding you in a room, and the way his body responds to your mere presence.

You’re back at the bar, hanging out with the other pilots while playing pool. Jake can't tear his eyes away from you as you lean over the pool table, lining up your shot. He watches intently as your body moves, the way your hips sway, and the way the pool cue rests in your grasp.

He takes a sip of his drink, attempting to appear nonchalant, but his eyes never leave you, drinking in your every movement.

You notice his lingering gaze and shoot him a questioning look, feeling Bob’s hand snake around your waist as he pulls you into a hug. You lean into his embrace as he whispers a soft goodnight before he leaves.

Jake's jaw clenches at the sight of Bob's arm around you, a flash of anger and jealousy passing through his eyes. It takes all his self-control not to stride over and pull you away from the hug.

He watches as Bob leans in, whispers something in your ear, and then leaves. Jake's hands ball into fist, his knuckles turning white as he forces himself to stay seated. You walk over to Hangman, arms crossed.

“Jake, we need to talk.” your tone is firm. You’ve been noticing his lingering stares, the way he seeks out your touch and attention. It’s been a frustrating couple weeks.

Hangman looks up at you as you approach, his expression guarded. He knows exactly what you're talking about. The tension between the two of you since that night has been unbearable, and he knows he can't keep up the act much longer.

He tries to feign nonchalance as he responds, a cocky smirk on his face. "What's there to talk about? We had our fun, right?"

“Come on, outside.” you practically demand, glaring at him before leaving the bar. Hangman's cocky smile falters a little under your demanding tone, but he quickly recovers, grabbing his jacket and following after you.

Once outside, he turns to face you, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Alright, we're out here. What do you want to talk about?" His voice is casual, but there's a hint of wariness in his eyes. He knows this conversation is not going to go the way he wants it to.

“What’s your deal?” the two of you are off in a dark corner, hidden behind the bar. “You’re the one who said *just* one night, yet you can't seem to stay away.”

Hangman's jaw clenches, his carefree demeanor slipping for a moment. He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

"I don't know, alright?" He snaps, his voice carrying a hint of defensiveness. "I didn't think it would be so damn hard to just walk away from you."

He starts pacing back and forth in the small corner, his body tense, like a caged animal ready to pounce.

You scoff, “You’re not the commitment type, so what exactly is this all about?” your gaze is hardened as you lean against the wall.

Hangman stops pacing, his back to you as he takes a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts.

"It's not about commitment, alright?" He says, turning back around to face you, his eyes meeting yours. "It's about you. I can't get you out of my goddamn head." His voice is hoarse, and there's a hint of vulnerability in his eyes that you've never seen before.

You look at him, eyebrows furrowed, expression full of confusion. Hangman steps closer to you, eyes searching your face.

"Don't look at me like that," he mutters, his voice gruff. "I...I don't know what I'm doing. I don't do this. I don't get attached, I don't get possessive. But I can't stop thinking about you, I can't stop wanting *you*..."

He reaches for you, taking a strand of your hair between his fingers, his touch gentle. "Please..." His voice is barely above a whisper, a plea. "Please don't make me stop." your gaze softens as he moves closer, desperate for you.

Hangman's plea hangs in the air, his voice revealing more vulnerability than he's ever shown before. He's practically shaking from the effort of resisting his growing desire for you.

He leans in, mere inches from your face, his breath hot on your skin. His eyes lock with yours, a mix of need and desperation swirling in their depths.

"I *need* you, Y/N," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "I've never *needed* anyone like this before. You're driving me damn crazy."

“And here I thought you weren't the begging type.” You hum, hands going to his muscular waist. Hangman's breath hitches at your touch, his body responding immediately to your proximity. His hands find your hips, pulling you closer to him.

"I'm not. Usually." He answers, his voice a low rumble. "But you're different. You've got me on my damn knees here, and I don't even care." His body presses against yours, his grip on your hips tightening as if he’s afraid you'll pull away.

“On your knees? Now that's something I’d like to see.” you tease, enjoying the feel of his body against yours.

Hangman's eyes widen for a moment as he registers your words, then his smirk returns, a challenge in his gaze.

“Is that right?” He drops to his knees, his hands gripping your thighs. He runs his fingers up and down your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

“I’d do just about anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips hovering just above your hip. You gasp, legs spreading for him.

“Yeah?” you guide his hand under your skirt, back pressing against the wall. Hangman's eyes darken as his hand moves underneath your skirt, his touch sending shivers up your spine. His breathing is ragged, his gaze hungry as he looks up at you.

"Yeah," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "Anything, sweetheart. Just tell me what you want." His hand moves higher, his fingers tracing the hem of your underwear. His tongue slips out, running along his lower lip as he watches your reaction.

“Jake,” you whine his name, “I need you,” your fingers move to his hair, pulling him close. Hangman lets out a low moan as you pull on his hair, your words making his chest tighten with desire.

"Yeah, that's it. Say my name," he practically growls, his nose brushing against your inner thigh as he presses closer to you.

"I'm goin' crazy here, darling. Tell me what you want." His hands grip your thighs, his mouth trailing soft kisses along your skin, moving higher and higher until he reaches the edge of your underwear.

“I want you..” you gasp. Hangman's lips move against you, his breath hot against your clothed skin. He pulls you closer, his grip tight on your ass, as if he can't get close enough to you.

"Do you taste as sweet as you look, sweetheart?" He murmurs, his teeth nibbling at the fabric separated you, you gasp in response desperate for more. "I'm dyin' to find out." The bulge in his jeans is now apparent, his desire for you straining against the fabric.

Hangman looks up at you through his lashes, his eyes filled with a combination of need and heat. He pulls gently on the fabric of your underwear, his voice rough as he speaks.

"Can I take these off, sweetheart?" His hand moves up your thigh, his touch gentle. "I need to taste you, every inch of you."

Jake's gaze is intense, his eyes locked on yours as he slides your underwear down, revealing your glistening core. You nod the cool night air that kisses your exposed skin, causing goosebumps to rise along your legs.

He kisses your thighs, working his way closer to your center, his breath hot and his mouth watering. As he licks you, you bite down on your bottom lip to keep from screaming out in pleasure.

His tongue moves in a slow, deliberate circle around your clit, teasing and taunting you until you can't help but whimper. He smirks, knowing he has you on the edge, and continues his sweet torture, his hands gripping your hips to keep you in place.

You lean back against the wall, supporting yourself as his mouth works magic on your body. Your legs tremble, and your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer as you feel the orgasm building deep within you.

His tongue slides into you, stroking you deep and slow, and you can't hold back anymore. You moan out his name, your body convulsing as the climax crashes over you like a tidal wave.

Hangman doesn't stop, even as your legs give out and you slide down the wall. He holds you up with one hand, his mouth still working tirelessly. You're lost in the sensation, your mind a whirlwind of pleasure as he devours you.

Finally, you manage to push him away, gasping for air. "Jake, enough," you murmur, your voice shaky. He chuckles, standing up and pulling you into a standing position.

"I'm not done with you yet," he says, his voice low and full of promise. He kisses you deeply, his tongue tasting the sweetness of your orgasm on his lips. You melt into the kiss, your body craving more of him.

Hangman's hands move to the button of his jeans, fumbling slightly with the zipper. His desperation is palpable, his breathing heavy as he works to free his erection. He pulls out his cock, thick and hard, the moonlight casting shadows over it.

You moan into his mouth as he lifts you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist. He presses you against the wall, your hands holding onto his shoulders for balance. His tip teases your entrance, coated in your juices from earlier.

With a gentle nudge, he slides into you, filling you up. Your walls clench around him, trying to keep him inside. He groans into your mouth, his hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm that has your toes curling in your boots.

You're both lost in the moment, the cool night air surrounding you as he fucks you in the alleyway. His movements are deliberate, each thrust a declaration of his need for you.

Your hands move from his shoulders to his face, your fingers tracing the contours of his jaw, feeling the stubble that's grown in since the morning. You break the kiss, panting for air as you stare into his eyes.

"I need you," you whisper, your voice filled with passion. Hangman's eyes flare with desire, his hips moving faster, his strokes deeper.

The bricks of the alleyway press into your back, but you don't care. All that matters is the feeling of him inside you, the way your bodies move together in a dance as old as time.

You can feel the tension building in his body, his muscles tensing as he fights for control. But you want more, need more. You rock your hips against him, urging him to go harder.

He obliges, his thrusts becoming more forceful, his hands gripping your ass tightly. You throw your head back, your moans echoing through the deserted alley as you reach for your own release.

Your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks, your body spasming around his cock. Hangman groans, his own climax following quickly behind, filling you with his warmth.

He holds you there, his body shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of the moment etched into every line of his face.

Slowly, he lowers you to the ground, his cock slipping out of you with a wet sound. You lean against the wall, trying to catch your breath.

He tucks himself back into his pants, his gaze never leaving yours. "I can't get enough of you," he says, his voice gruff.

You laugh, the sound a little shaky from the intensity of the encounter. "Is that so?"

Hangman's eyes never leave your face, his breathing coming in ragged gasps. His hands grip your hips, his touch both possessive and gentle at the same time. He leans in, his lips hovering just above yours.

"Damn right it is," he murmurs, his voice low. "I'm addicted to you, sweetheart. Can't get enough." he kisses your shoulder, pulling your waist as he presses you to him.

[hoe4hotchner]

Hello, my 18th birthday is on the 13th and I was wondering if you had time for a request by then if not it’s fine and if you’ve already done the idea and I haven’t seen it I apologize. The request is hotch x actress reader where they meet her because she somehow involved in the case ether her director is a suspect or the unsub is obsessed with her or something and she a big actress but she keeps her private life hidden well I think I’m asking for a request in the right spot :) if you can do this thank you sm!

In the spotlight | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Actress!reader | WC: 1.2k | CW: Fluff, mention of stalker ish unsub, not really any case related stuff.

A/N: Welp…… a little late, but better than never. I've honestly been so busy the past couple of months. Also I'm procrastinating a lot and doing everything except for studying

The BAU wasn’t typically in the business of celebrity encounters, but when a string of murders pointed toward a high-profile Hollywood set, the team found themselves in unfamiliar territory.

“You’re sure she’s involved?” Morgan asked as they walked through the grand double doors of the studio lot.

“Not directly,” JJ replied, flipping through her tablet, scanning the reports that had made her pick up on the case. “But the unsub has a fixation on her. He’s left notes at each crime scene referencing her movies.”

Hotch had dealt with cases like this before – obsessive fans, delusions manifesting into violence – but something about this case had his instincts on edge.

Then he saw you.

You were a household name. Hollywood’s best-kept enigma – an A-list actress who had managed to keep your personal life out of the tabloids way longer than anyone had anticipated, and still managed to do.

That was no small feat.

You stood near the edge of the set, engaged in conversation with your director. When you noticed them, you excused yourself and approached, your expression unreadable.

“You must be the FBI,” you greeted smoothly, your voice carrying just enough warmth to be polite but not inviting. Your agent had only just notified you of how serious the situation had become a few days before the arrival of the team. “I appreciate you coming. This is terrifying.”

“Agent Hotchner,” he introduced himself, his usual stoic demeanor in place. “These are Agents Jareau, Morgan, and Reid.”

Your gaze flickered over each of them before settling back on Hotch. “I wish I could say I’m surprised, but I’ve been in the industry long enough to know obsession breeds danger.”

“We believe the unsub is escalating,” Reid interjected. “Each victim has been found with items linking to your past films, suggesting a deep personal attachment to your career.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Fantastic.”

“We’ll need to go over any recent threats you may have received,” Hotch said. “And we’ll be assigning protective detail.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, though not out of defiance – more out of frustration. “I keep my personal life locked down for a reason. If word gets out that the FBI is babysitting me, the media will have a field day.”

“I understand,” Hotch replied, his voice softer now. “But your safety comes first.”

Something in his tone made you pause. The unreadable steel in your gaze softened just a fraction.

“You’re different from the other agents I’ve met,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone else.

Hotch raised a brow, having heard you clearly. “How so?”

You offered a small, knowing smile. “You actually care. I'll have my agent send my relevant details to your team.”

Despite your initial reluctance, you allowed the team to dig through the threats you’d dismissed over the years. It was a pattern, Hotch realized. You had become so accustomed to being watched, desired, and obsessed over that you had learned to ignore the warning signs.

Not this time.

Late one evening, after hours of combing through evidence, you found yourself sitting beside Hotch in your trailer, an untouched cup of coffee in your hands.

“You don’t talk much,” you observed.

He glanced at you. “I talk when there’s something to say.”

A smile ghosted over your lips. “That must be refreshing for your team.”

“They’re used to it.”

You exhaled, eyes flickering toward the pile of letters on the table. “I should be more scared, shouldn’t I?”

“You’re handling this well.”

“I think I’m just tired of it,” you admitted. “The industry, the expectations… the fear. I worked so hard to keep my real life separate from my public one, but it doesn’t seem to matter.”

Hotch studied you for a moment before speaking. “You’ve done everything right. This isn’t your fault.”

You met his gaze, something unspoken passing between you. You had spent years being seen but never truly known. And yet, in just a few days, this man had managed to break through the carefully constructed walls you had built.

He stood then. “We’re going to find him.”

When the unsub was finally apprehended, the weight you had been carrying lifted, but something unexpected lingered, an attachment you hadn’t anticipated.

As the team prepared to leave, you found yourself standing beside Hotch, the energy of the set swarming around you.

“If you ever need anything…” he started, trailing off as if unsure how to finish the thought.

You tilted your head, a playful smirk creeping onto your lips. “Are you offering me your number, Agent Hotchner?”

A rare, almost imperceptible smile crossed his features. “Strictly for emergencies.”

“Of course.”

But you both knew this wasn’t the last time you’d see each other.

As he walked away, you found yourself staring just a little longer than necessary.

Even though the case had ended, Aaron Hotchner lingered in your thoughts long after the BAU had left Los Angeles. You weren’t sure what to make of it. In your world, people came and went, drawn to the fantasy of who they thought you were, but Hotch had never, although you'd know him for mere moments, treated you like a spectacle. He had looked at you, really looked at you, and seen more than just an actress.

You weren’t sure when you’d see him again – until you did.

It started with a call. Late at night, after a particularly strenuous day on set.

“Hotchner.” His voice was calm, although he sounded tired.

You sat up in bed, your heart picking up its pace. “Is this an emergency?”

A pause. “Not exactly. But you told me once that if I ever needed to talk, I should call.” A slow smile tugged at your lips. “And here I thought the FBI didn’t take personal calls.”

He exhaled a quiet chuckle. “We don’t. Not usually.”

That was the beginning.

Over the next few weeks, the calls became more frequent. Sometimes they were brief, check-ins disguised as polite conversation. Other times, they stretched into the late hours, with you learning more about the man behind the badge. His job, his son, the way he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. You shared pieces of yourself in return, opening up in a way you rarely did.

It wasn’t long before one of those calls ended with a whispered confession.

“I miss you,” you admitted, voice barely above a breath.

Silence hung between you, thick and charged.

Then, softly, “I miss you too.”

When Hotch finally saw you again, it was different. He wasn’t there for a case. He was there for you.

You met in private, away from prying eyes, and for the first time, there was no pretense, no agent and actress, no investigation or security detail. Just two people drawn together.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” you murmured as he stood in the doorway of your home, looking every bit as composed as always, though there was something softer in his expression now.

“I wasn’t sure either.”

You stepped closer, tilting your head. “But you’re here.”

He nodded. “I am.”

You didn’t overthink it. Instead, you closed the space between you, your fingers skimming the lapels of his coat before you leaned in, pressing your lips to his.

Hotch responded without hesitation, his hands finding your waist, pulling you against him in a way that left no room for uncertainty.

When you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“This isn’t simple,” he murmured.

You smiled. “I don’t need simple. I just need you.”

And for once, Aaron Hotchner allowed himself to believe that maybe, he could have something for himself, too.

[bloodchapell]

drunk n party - armin a.

brief summary: armin finally decides its time to introduce you to his friends, and the perfect occasion is the party eren invited him to. the party is the perfect occasion for other, far more important, matters.

what to expect: alt and very nerdy reader, equally nerdy armin, mutual pinning, physical touch, lots of tension, touching kissing, things escalating but not to THAT point

your sword's note: my princesses, it is now time 🙏🏻. all past and future parts of this au series available in my mistresslist, also sorry for the delay, life has been bizarre

As some kind of miracle, both you and Armin’s friends, independently of course, finally convinced him to introduce you to each other. He agreed to attend a party (shocker) and accepted passing on the invitation to you as his friends had always requested (bigger shocker).

“I don’t know what to wear!” You cried out going back and forth in your dorm, “They will think I am weird!!”

“I promise they won’t…”He said knowing that his friends would almost instantly love you. He was starting to regret the whole thing because he had a feeling that someone would tell you every detail about his feelings; he was biting down on his lip piercing like every time he was nervous now, he used to bite the skin off his lips but after getting his lip pierced he had acquired the new habit. “Anything you choose will be a good option, they are still impressed by insects so that is not a problem.”

You nodded and selected some pieces of clothing to then try them on, while Armin stood outside of course. When you were done, he walked back in and you applied some makeup and put some jewelry on, the makeup that you would practice, goth, vkei or straight up clown makeup was too much, so you decided to go for a simple look.

Finally you both walked out of your dorm, the contrast between you and Armin was impacting, though he already had gotten another pair of earlobe piercings and his vertical labret shined in his lips, he dressed the same as always, gray dress pants and a navy sweater over a white button up on comparison to your vintage bondage pants and corset jacket set.

“Are you sure I don’t look like an abomination? You look like Mr. Peabody if he was human and I am this...bizarre entity.”

“I don’t know if I should be honored or disgraced by that comparison.” He chuckled walking besides you to the house of the party. “It doesn’t really matter, the fashion student here is you, and apart of Mikasa, the rest of them dress relatively average.”

If there was something Armin loved about you, was your style and fashion sense, it was otherworldly for him, everything, your confidence and bravery to wear stuff that people normally don’t and that they judge, your ability to make any outfit work, that kin eye you had to elevate any look… he was a little envious of that ability since he started hanging out with you and diving into more alternative music and culture in general; he was still trying to build courage to ask you for help with renovating his closet.

“Your hand looks sad, let me just…” Taking of some of your rings off you mentioned before placing them in his fingers. He wore the silver ring you had given him on the day you two first hung out every single day, but apart from that he didn't wear any sort of necklaces or bracelets.

“I wish I had gotten the armor ring.” He joked knowing that it didn't fit him.

Walking into the party was a little awkward as Armin had insisted to arrive early, technically before it even started, so there was only a few people. When you two walked in everyone stayed silent and turned around almost breaking their necks to take a glance at the millenary event: Armin with a girl.

“Umm, hi.” You introduced yourself briefly and everyone waved.

“Well Hello!” Soon a tall guy jumped to greet both of you. “My name is Jean I am practically Armin’s twin, nice to finally meet you.”

“This… this is beautiful!” Connie said about the whole scene.

Soon faces started matching names, Armin gave a seriously scary look to everyone and he sat down quietly by Mikasa’s side so you sat besides him. You knew Mikasa was Mikasa because she matched the description Armin gave of her perfectly and you were soon complimenting her v-shaped bangs and she smiled and complimented you back; knowing that Mikasa wouldn’t say any unnecessary comments, Armin felt instantly calmer.

"The alc is here!” Eren celebrated walking into the house, showing two bottles, one in each hand as trophy’s.

“What if we actually got drunk?” You asked Armin knowing that neither of you had ever been genuinely drunk and he seemed hesitant for a second but ended up agreeing.

“I just hope I don’t do anything embarrassing.”

“He will for sure do sum embarrassing shit!” Eren laughed launching at the sofa. "Did you not invite Tiffany?"

"No she is busy studying..." You said turning to take a glance at Armin whose eyes were wide open.

Inevitably people started walking in and the real party started. Loud music and the so called alc that Eren and Sasha brought being passed around in clichey red cups.

“What is this again?” Armin asked yelling, pointing at his cup for a second.

“Malibu rum.” Eren answered.

You took a sip of the tasty liquor and stayed seating, there were some people dancing already but you and Armin just looked at each other laughing.

“How was your piercing been?” You asked seeing that he kept biting on it.

“It’s almost healed but I can’t stop playing with it.” He admitted defeated. “So what are we supposed to do here?”

“I would like to know… We are so smart and still can’t figure it out!” You exclaimed throwing your arm over his shoulder and pulling him a little closer to hug him sideways.

“I think I wanna dye my hair… I’ve been too corrupted. If me from a year ago saw me now, he’d have a heart attack.”

“For sure, from how cute you are.” You smiled and he looked away embarrassed. Since you both didn’t know what else to do, you started sipping slowly from the cup and since Eren made sure to fill it up every time he noticed, you two were already somewhat tipsy. “I will dye your hair, but not all of it.”

“Can I have a…uhm, vkei cut?” He asked and you nodded, “And some dye.”

“Do you think we are becoming stupid?” You asked out of nowhere and seeing him nodding lit your lips in laughter. Then, absorbed by the influence of the alcohol, you decided to stand up and extend your hand to ask him up too. He took a good while denying but eventually stood up lightly holding on to your hand, asking why you were making him stand up. “Let’s take a breath outside.”

You held his hand across the people jumping around and reached the door, there were some people smoking and chatting but you stood away from them and simply leaned on the wall.

“Have you read a fanfic about a party and wished you were there but now that we are in a party it’s kinda dumb?”

“What makes you think I read fan fiction?” Armin asked back to your question laughing; he was organizing his hair and his concentrated face made him look really attractive. “I really don’t mind it here if I can just be with you.”

“Oh really?” You tried to ask after the liquid in your mouth escaped to your throat making you cough for air, he nodded in a very serious manner.

“Let’s stay for a little and then leave… we can read… or watch a movie or have our own party.”

“You’re so unhinged when you’re drunk.” You laughed and he immediately argued that he wasn’t drunk.

Eventually you went back to the house, and after seating in the same spot and talking with Armin while Eren kept refilling your cups for a good while, you both agreed to leave and spend your time in a place you two felt more comfortable in.

“Mikasa said she left my jacket upstairs, I’ll go get it.” You said after coming back from talking with her, Armin said he’d go with you and you agreed. You immediately grabbed his hand to not get lost from each other and went upstairs. Mikasa had said she left the jacket in the last room of the corridor. People were doing a line to go to the bathroom and trying to get in a room, so when one of the doors opened someone ran to go in and pushed you. Luckily Armin was still holding your hand and prevented you from falling.

“Oh God I could’ve fallen…” You stayed still for a moment and in your intoxicated state decided that it was best to thank Armin by hugging him. “Thanks ‘Min.”

He was oddly not so shy to receive the hug and corresponded by hugging you back. He was so drunk and he felt oddly decided about life so all timidity had vanished from his nervous system.

“You don’t need to thank me, how am I going to let you fall right in front of me?” He mentioned still clinging to his cup in one hand while with the other one he held onto the entirety of your waist, whispering in your ear just to make sure that you could listen regardless of how loud the music was.

“Armin shut up…” You moved away shyly.

“So when I do hug you back you don’t like it?” He held somewhat firmly to you. “Do you not like me back?”

“What…?” Your heart dropped when hearing his words. “What do you mean?”

“Answer my question first.” He demanded, in a serious manner. His hair was sticking to his forehead and his cologne impregnating onto your clothes too, his eyebrows were furrowed over his eyes and his mouth still had the bittersweet taste of the rum. He was gone. “Why don’t you like me back?”

“Armin…” you felt slightly suffocated by his arm holding you, but his words reverberated in your brain. Since the moment you saw him in class you liked him, since he was shy to talk, since he met you in the library, since the beginning you had liked him. “I do like you.”

His eyes slowly opened when the realization hit, almost enough to sober him up for a whole second.

“What…?” It was him now asking, his heart about to kill him.

“I don’t know where you got that idea of me not liking you, but I do, I like you.”

He stayed silent for a good time, the grip of his arm on your waist softening up and his eyes locked in yours because if he looked away once he wouldn’t be able to look back at you.

“I’m sorry… I already ruined it.” He finally averted his gaze to look at the floor.

“Armin it’s okay, you didn’t ruin anything.” Though you tried to make him look back at you, he refused to, so you lifted your hands from his neck to his face to make him look at you. “I won’t stop liking you just because you get silly.”

He kept silent so you decided to give up everything and approach him softly to kiss him. A soft and quick peck.

“I’ve been liking you since I saw you.” You confessed, his lips remained slightly opened and his intense eyes went back to yours, “I’ve been about to kiss you many times before but I just wasn’t brave enough... but I really, really, like you."

The door of the room in the back suddenly opened and since you saw some girl walking to get in, you grabbed Armin's hand and ran towards the room. Once inside you closed the door and looked at him. “So like you back, you said?”

His overall mood seemed enhanced, but he was as embarrassed as he could be.

“I like you a lot… but thought I had no chance.”

“Sometimes you forget to charge your brain.” You close the distance by walking to him, he closes his eyes as to avoid looking at you so you hung your hands on his neck. “I had a feeling you liked me but didn’t know how to act with this situation… I should have confessed…”

“Do you really like me?” He asked opening his eyes and you softly squeezed his cheek.

“Really!? How could I not? You are the smartest person I know, you have a wonderful personality, you are insanely attractive and cute…” You held his face now and forced him to look at you. You let your fingers caress his soft skin, his eyes were focused on your face, all over, analyzing every feature of yours like he had done a million times before, memorizing the exact shape of your lips because he couldn’t look away from them… how had he felt them, how dare he, he had been blessed… but he already started to forget the feeling.

“You are just drunk.”

“I am drunk but that is unrelated.” You said serious. “Ask me tomorrow. Ask me any day. I don’t know why you’re doubting me.”

“I’m not doubting you… I just don’t get it.” Armin kept talking bout you were quick to shush him.

“I don’t wanna hear it.” You said firmly and he nodded almost obediently. “This is what will happen. I take my jacket and sit in the bed for a minute to catch my breath, if you want to continue denying that I like you, you can leave. If you accept that I like you without questioning my reasons, you can sit besides me and give me a kiss back.”

After hearing the options, it seemed clear that he had made his choice, yet it took him some long seconds of finding his balance standing up and then sitting besides you.

"There." He softly kissed your cheek, clearly too embarrassed to give you a real kiss and you cursed not having specified that the kiss should have been on the lips. "I can't yet bring myself to dare kiss you, I hope that suffices."

"You little mischievous leprechaun." You scolded him and he couldn't help but laugh at the odd wording of your insult. "It does not really suffice."

He looked at you clearly thinking of what to do but you were quick to grab his hand and kiss him again.

You had never talked about romantic stuff, both of you too embarrassed to ever bring it up, but from kissing him you noticed his relative lack of experience: he didn't move his lips much and simply held your hand.

"Am I hurting your lip baby?" You asked carefully brushing a strand of his hair behind his ear and he denied, shockwaves making him shiver at the way you called him; he sighed strongly as to calm down his nerves. He gently passed his tongue across his piercing as to move it back to the place he liked it. You went back to kissing him and now it seemed he had picked up what you had done before, his lips were gently sucking on your bottom lip and his free hand was placed gently on your cheek while the other one still held onto yours. Both of you seemed eager to finally kiss after months of suffering and hiding your feelings, the warm alcohol running through your veins turned you bold.

"You picked that up already?" You asked pulling away after finally noticing that he had learned from the short kiss you had given him before. He nodded.

"You kissed me like that and it felt good, so I replicated it."

"I should be scared of you." You laughed nervously.

"I may be inexperienced but I am not dumb." His statement sent shivers down your spine. You stopped for a moment to look at his eyes that were consumed in determination like you had never seen them.

"You can't possibly win..." You muttered and he laughed saying that it was not about winning but you gently pushed his back towards the mattress, his expression changing fast at the sudden movement. He blinked once and when he opened his eyes you had shifted from his side to his lap. He gave a simple look at his lap, your knees to each side of his hips and your weight resting on him. He looked up and saw your gaze, on him like a predator, his pupils expanded. He quite did not know you were this type of lover, it looked like it was not just because you were drunk.

"You are much of a fast learner," You complained tying up your hair as to take the long strands out of your face. "If I am not careful with you, soon you will have me subdued." You pointed at him and he bit your finger. You both erupted in laughter as you approached him to kiss again. His eyes expectant of your movements, so you gave him a loud kiss in the cheek before going back to his lips that were impatient to have yours again. He made sure to let you know that he had missed them, tangling his arms around your neck and interlocking his lips on yours in a wet kiss. After pulling away a few inches to breath, you switched to encage his bottom lip now and he corresponded with your upper, gently licking your lip before opening his eyes daring. You caught the glimpse of his gaze and reciprocated the daring look before opening your mouth and meeting his tongue with yours.

While he got lost in the moment, tasting your mouth and exploring cautiously, a thought creeped in the back of his head; he knew he was acting oddly and realized that he was in fact drunk. Something in him ought to decelerate the moment but he lost his determination when your lips gently moved from his lips to his neck and your hand started trailing down his jawline, to his chest and to the waistband of his pants.

The door then opened abruptly and though your first instinct was to yell that the room was occupied, when you and Armin turned to look at the door, you saw Mikasa and a disheveled Eren almost holding tears, both in shock at finding his friend finally getting some action.

Both you and Armin immediately sat straight and he moved you from his lap back to the bed.

"What happened?" You attempted to say.

"Eren has separation anxiety." Mikasa rolled her eyes as Eren clung to her. "He refused to go home without finding him first."

You looked at Armin, who seemed almost angry. You both got up as if you had agreed mentally and walked towards the door.

"I didn't know though," The look in Eren faced changed immediately from sorrowful to a malicious grin.

"Whatever." Armin pushed his friend out of the way.

[merthosus]

Don't kiss the cast members

Summary: You never had a problem with any of the cast members of the umbrella academy, except Aidan. You two couldn't stand each other since the first time you met. You were always good at ignoring him but the directors crashed the plan, by making you the love interest of the character Five Hargreeves. But as the day came you needed to train with him everything changed.

Here a sexy poster from Five I fell in love with! With every purchase you automatically support me :) https://amzn.to/3yGK6Fm

"This.. this wasn't wrote in the script"

Chicago, 9:20 am, you were walking outside the set with a coffee in your hands. It was cold, so the warmth of the cup made your heart flutter with happiness. It was always the smallest things that made you feel pride. You looked down at your chamber red nails while walking through the security guards. You didn't need to show them your ID; they knew you. After two years of being in the show, everyone knew everyone.

You loved attending the set, being surrounded by the most varied people, but today was different. Your stomach hurt, and your hands were slightly shaking. Knowing why your body reacted like that was easy. But your determination and the wish to earn money had driven you to attend the set today. You needed to remind yourself that this was a big part of your job... doing things you didn't want to do. You needed to swallow the pill, and you should be good to go.

Your thoughts went crazy as you said hello to the makeup artist. She was tugging at you here and there, putting little needles in the top you wore. You had been an actor for a few years now, so kissing in front of a camera was not that big of a deal for you, but kissing someone you didn't like was a little bit challenging.

The story of your character was pretty simple—not being that much in the limelight, operating in the shadows of the show. She was the daughter of the Handler, stalking Number Five and looking out for him as the Handler instructed her. The depth of the character was very interesting, so playing her was really an honor, especially because it was the biggest show you had ever been allowed to be on.

"You are ready, you like it?" she asked me. I nodded and smiled. "Thank you, this is very good work, as always," I told her. This was one of your rules: to appreciate the work people do for you, always trying to be nice to everyone. As you stepped out of the container, you saw Aidan walking by. He saw you too and headed in your direction. "Hi, you ready for the rehearsal?" he asked you. To be honest, this was the only thing you liked about him—he was always professional.

"Course, where you want to rehearse?" you asked him. He told you to follow him to Set 36. You knew the set from previous film scenes. Watching the others play was also a pretty big part of your job. You didn't need to, but you liked watching them, learning from their abilities. Robert Sheehan was one of the actors you looked up to; how he acted out his character was astonishing.

As you both walked to the empty set, neither of you even tried to make small talk. Your steps were loud as you walked with him, you read the script again and tried to memorize every little word. The set was very detailed; it was Five's room. You sat down on his bed and continued to read. "You ready?" he asked me. You nodded, laid the script aside, and positioned yourself better on the bed. The scene you needed to play was simple. You get into an argument, and then you kiss him. His part was to reject you and then walk out of the room. That's it—very simple. "Alright," you said while shaking your arms to prepare.

"Go on," you said, and Aidan got into his role. "STOP IT! Stop stalking me, you crazy little shit!" he screamed and walked around the room until he came to a halt at his desk. "I... I am not stalking you!" you yelled. He leaned himself onto the desk behind him. "I saw you following me several times!" he said angrily. Just now, you noticed how his jawline was nearly perfectly shaped—he could cut papers with that thing. You didn't answer him and just stared him down. Suddenly, he jumped away from the table and walked right in front of you.

He looked down at you. This was the moment. "I just... I can't explain," you said your last line. You could feel your heart pounding, like it demanded to get out of your torso. Your hands were shaking as if you had just drunk five espressos and two Red Bulls. "Explain, or I don't want to see you ever again," he whispered. You got up from the bed and stood before him. You felt like it was the first time you ever auditioned. You were as scared of this day as you were then. Without thinking and pushing your anxiety away, you grabbed his face and smashed your lips onto his.

Although you hated him with every muscle in your body, your whole stomach filled with butterflies as your lips landed on his. He tasted bittersweet, like he had just drunk coffee, and a little bit of woodsy cologne made him taste like that too. You waited for him to push you away, like it was written in the script. He was supposed to push you back onto the bed and leave, so you prepared for the fall. But he didn't.

He began to let his puffy lips roam over yours. It felt like you were flying straight to heaven. As you began to stroke his cheek with your thumb, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You let your hand travel around his neck, pushing your fingers into his dark hair. As your fingernails scratched his scalp, he opened his mouth wider, and you let your tongue sneak into his mouth. His lips felt like cushions pressing against yours.

You gasped as he let his hand fall, landing on your butt. But as soon as his lips connected with yours again, you couldn't think anymore. His other hand continued to travel up and down your waist, exploring every inch. He pushed your abdomen further into his, causing your head to tilt back slightly. He noticed and grabbed your neck harshly, pushing your head forward as he continued to let his tongue dance in your mouth, tasting you like ice cream.

You felt every last bit of oxygen leave your body, so you pushed your head away. The sudden feeling of leaving his lips made your whole body shudder with coldness. "This... this wasn't written in the script," you said, stuttering. "Then, unfortunately, we have to do this again," he said with a wide grin on his face. "Asshole."

Thank you for reading my love :) Here leading you to part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/merthosus/759274024052375552/dont-kiss-the-cast-members-summary-you-never?source=share

[lazysoulwriter]

through the lens - drew starkey x singer!reader.

requested! hope u like it. ♡ - requests still open!

----

The lights are dim, the soft hum of an acoustic guitar filling the studio as the cameras roll. You adjust the vintage lace blouse you’re wearing, the fabric delicate against your skin as you take a deep breath. It’s not your first music video, but it’s the first time you have someone playing your love interest— and not just anyone. Drew Starkey.

You still aren’t sure how it happened. Your manager had called two weeks ago, voice giddy as she said, “Guess who agreed to be in your video?”

Drew is charming, a little cocky in that effortlessly attractive way, but also surprisingly sweet. You’ve met him a couple of times at industry events, exchanged casual hellos, but this? This is new.

“You nervous?” His voice pulls you from your thoughts.

You turn, finding him leaning against one of the set’s old wooden beams, wearing a loose white shirt and faded jeans. He looks like he belongs in an indie romance movie— which, technically, is exactly the vibe you’re going for.

“Not really,” you lie.

He smirks, stepping closer. “Liar.”

You huff, crossing your arms. “Okay, maybe a little.”

The director calls you both over, explaining the next scene. It’s the climax of the video— soft touches, longing gazes, the moment right before a kiss. You swallow hard. You’ve rehearsed the blocking, but there’s a difference between knowing what to do and actually doing it.

The first take is awkward. You fidget when Drew places his hands on your waist, and he chuckles when you accidentally step on his foot.

The second take is better.

By the third, something changes.

Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, as if you’re the only person in the room. Or the way his thumb brushes over your knuckles between takes, a silent reassurance. Whatever it is, it makes your chest tighten.

“Alright,” the director calls out. “Let’s go for the final shot. I need this to feel real.”

Real.

You barely have time to think before Drew leans in, his forehead resting against yours. The music plays softly in the background, your own voice singing about love and longing. His fingers trace small circles against your hip, his breath warm against your lips.

And then—

His lips brush against yours.

It’s light, barely there, but enough to make your heart stutter. The camera captures everything— the way your lashes flutter shut, the way he lingers for just a second too long.

The director calls cut, but neither of you move.

When you finally pull back, Drew is watching you with an expression you can’t quite place.

“That was…” you start, voice quieter than before.

He smiles. “Yeah.”

A beat of silence.

Then he tilts his head, a teasing glint in his eye. “Wanna go again? Just for safety.”

You laugh, shoving his shoulder playfully.

But part of you wonders if maybe, just maybe, he isn’t entirely joking.

----

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝖄OURS TRULY

Manon Bannerman x actor!fem!reader

summary: being an actress can be pretty demanding, and manon's pretty understanding of the things that came along with your career, but lately it’s feeling a little too real

warnings: slight!angst, some sm posts, jealous!manon, one mean comment, kinda used rachel zegler as a face claim only because i used those pics for the smau, harsh language

Being an actress came with lots of benefits; you travelled all around the world to film in beautiful, exotic locations, you get to meet a lot of amazing new people within and beyond the industry, and you get to do what you were most passionate about. But, it also meant every aspect of your life would be examined under a microscope, on and off set, and you would be made to post or say things that weren’t true just for the sake of promotions or publicity.

You absolutely loathed that part of your job. It has driven a wedge between your relationship with so many ex-boyfriends or girlfriends and even some friendships.

When you met Manon at your good friend and fellow Euphoria costar, Dominic’s New Year’s Eve party, you were absolutely entranced by this walking shred of heaven. Back then, she had not joined Dream Academy yet and she was just in between modelling gigs. You couldn’t help yourself, grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it. You had to get to know her better, and by the end of the night you were leaving Dominic’s condo and stumbling into yours with her pressed against you.

When you begun dating, you made sure Manon knew the extents of your career. You were blunt, dating an actress wasn’t always going to be easy, especially with the way tabloids write their own narrative about your life.

a) Your job entailed partial nudity at times; you’ve been in enough movies or series to know women are always asked to strip in front of cameras. You weren’t exactly the biggest fan, but it wasn’t your artistic choice to make.

b) Your job entailed lots of cameras and eyes constantly trained on you, meaning they would spin stories and insane theories out of the most ridiculously insignificant detail. Nothing the tabloids report can ever be trusted.

c) Your job entailed doing things with your costars, i.e. kissing, making out, filming intimate scenes, etc. As somebody in the industry, you have become so desensitized by the concept of faking things for art. But you understood not many people understood the gravity of everything your career demanded from you, and it can cause lots of issues emotionally.

Manon was very reluctant about these three rules at first, skeptical of how bad things had to be for you to drop this on her the first month in. But then she got on dream academy, she then successfully debuted in Katseye, and she, herself, experienced a lot of the things you fell victim to. She understood and accepted much more than she had to because she loved you, she really did, and to anybody with eyes, the two of you were absolutely smitten.

Recently, you were onset of a new project you were cast in—a remake of Romeo & Juliet but with a modern edge to it. Everything was going good, internal reviews for what, and as you wrapped up filming, you were asked to post an ‘wrap dump’ to promote the movie. Your manager presented you with a selection of photos, and you compiled them into a post.

Liked by kitconnor, lararajj & 821,440 others

ynln Can’t wait for ya’ll to see us in six months <3

19 hours ago

user01 THE FIRST SLIDE HELLO???????

user02 yall stronger than me i would’ve fallen in love

dominicfike aye get it sis

ynln you really do be everywhere but the studio

dominicfike kys

user03 has anybody seen the leaked kiss

user04 YES OMG

user05 they’re such a theatre kid power couple

user03 DID YALL SEE KIT GRABBING HER FACE

user06 you can’t convince me they’re not tgt

user07 Is this a hard launch I’m sobbing

user08 girl you ever heard of marketing 😭😭

user09 no they’re dating

user10 THEYRE LITERALLY NOT??

user11 guys y/n’s dating manon rmb not kit

user12 they never confirmed tho so maybe it’s kit

user13 @user12 Denial is a river in Egypt…

You didn’t think much about the post, getting out of your makeup from the day before hitching a ride home with your manager. You had a couple hours to freshen up and get ready before the wrap party that night, and you were very excited to have invited Manon as your plus one.

It was one of those rare days your girlfriend had a day off that matched your schedule. She had her reservations about being seen or photographed with you at such a public event, but you assured her everything was going to be cast and crew only.

Back at her dorm, Manon was doing her makeup on the floor of her room. She had the room to herself, Lara invited some of the girls home for the weekend with her—which meant Daniela was gone as well. Only Sophia and Yoonchae opted to stay home, wanting to spend the free time they had shopping for decorations to liven up their room. She was nervous, to say the least, about meeting all the professional filmmakers and famed actors and directors you worked with every day.

A knock on her door sounded through the music blasting.

“Yo, Manon, you getting ready to go soon?” When she turned her head to catch a glimpse of Sophia poking her head through the doorway, the leader was focused on the phone in her hand, strolling in to stand behind the older member.

“Yeah, heading over to Y/N’s in fifteen-ish… why?”

“You seen Y/N’s latest instagram post?” Sophia asked.

Manon shook her head. She hadn’t been on social media since the night before, she slept in, waking up late and immediately had to throw herself into the shower to get ready.

“Well, you gotta see this shit.”

Sophia knealt, holding her phone out for Manon to peep at the tweet she had pulled up onscreen. The way she snatched the filipina’s phone was nothing short of urgent and stunned.

It wasn’t like Manon hadn’t seen you kiss your costars onscreen, she’s been to many movies watching you lead in a film. But this, watching this bag of bulging muscles in a tank touch you where she usually did, your hands grabbing his face as the two of you made out on a bed?

Manon had never, and I mean ever, felt such rage. She was experiencing so many emotions at once; some rationality, some discomfort, but mostly an overwhelming sense of rage.

She didn’t care. She was a jealous girlfriend. And she can say she understands as many times as she could, but she hated every single time you’d kiss, touch or feel anybody but her. She knew it was what you did for a living, but she couldn’t shed the way she felt like smashing Kit Connor’s face through a wall.

“That’s a wild ass movie your girl’s making,” Sophia scoffed, in attempts to lighten the tension.

Manon’s jaw clenched, shoving the phone back into Sophia’s chest before standing. She was now sad she had gotten her hair and outfit done all nice, because she didn’t feel like showing up to an event thrown somewhat in your honour.

“Manon…? Manon!” Sophia called after the Ghanaian woman, but she had already grabbed her purse and left the house.

When you came out of the shower, your hair wet and your body glistening, you were taken aback by the sudden pounding you heard from your condo’s door. You quickly put on your panties and one of Manon’s oversized shirts. Slipping into your slippers, you stumbled out your bathroom and to the door. Just a couple feet away from it, another round of thrusts throw you off. “I’m coming, Jesus Christ!”

Swinging your door open, you were ready to rip into whomever so disrespectfully made their presence known, but upon seeing your girlfriend, dressed all nice and looking pretty, your expression softened. “Baby, I thought you were coming—!”

She held a hand over your mouth, pushing you into your home before kicking the door shut behind her.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Manz, what the fu—?”

“Are you fucking Kit Connor?” She immediately barked, a hand on your bare chest, backing you up towards the couch. “I get myself all nice and pretty for your party and I find out you’re macking this hunk like there’s no tomorrow?”

Your hand rested on your chest, before you were knocked onto your ass. You glanced up at your dining girlfriend, her lips pursed and her sharp brows knit together.

“Woah, woah, woah, what’re we talking about here?”

She yanked her phone out her pocket, her fingers jabbing at her screen as she pulled up your instagram page. The photos you and Kit took on set was harshly shoved into your face, you gently cradled her hand with both of yours, carefully pulling it back so you could see. She then harshly pulled her hand back, pulling up Pop Base’s tweet of a leaked onset photo.

“When the fuck did you even get these photos taken? I mean, having to do minimal stuff for work is one thing, but letting him carry you and grab your ass and your thighs and getting all close and intimate behind the scenes when you’re not even on fucking camera is so far over the line, Y/N.” she rambled, “Then I have to see you basically dry hump this man?”

You sighed, knowing it was another one of the older woman’s jealous episodes. You tried being more understanding, to listen and calm her down, knowing it was a consequence of your job.

“Baby, please, take a deep breath, okay?” You gently grab the phone from her hand, setting it down on the couch beside you. You entertained your fingers, kissing her knuckles. “What did I tell you about the rules, hm?”

With a pout, Manon’s voice dropped low, “You’re a public figure and need to get intimate with coworkers a lot.”

You hummed, nodding. “That’s right. And y’know what the best way to promote a new movie is?”

She rolled her eyes, staring away. “Dating scandals.”

“Yes, baby, dating scandals.” You tugged at her hands, pulling her down to take a seat. Her body slumped to sit on your lap, her eyes still refusing to meet yours as you fixed a loose curl from her temple. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Manz. I never do things I don’t need to. I took those pictures on a press day a while back when Kit and I were asked to do ‘behind the scenes’ photos, none of it is real.”

“Yeah, well, it looked pretty real when you were eating his face on that bed,” she huffed, “What was I supposed to think?”

You chuckled, nodding. You wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling both of you to lie back into the couch. “I know, I know, but I’m not going to the party as Kit’s date, right? He’s not the one I’ve been waiting to see all day.” You gestured at your dripping appearance, “That’s why I wanted you to come in twenty, so I could be ready and beautiful just for you, baby.”

Manon scoffed, “Yeah, you’re lookin’ real rough right now.”

You playfully slapped her at the joke, “I promise you, I am yours, truly. I don’t even care about Kit, because all I think about when I’m at work is coming home and getting to see my ridiculously beautiful and sexy girlfriend.”

That statement seemed to win Manon over, her hands coming up to cradle your cheeks. “You better swear on your life.”

“I swear on this life and the next. I love you, Manz.”

“Mmh, I love you more,” she hummed, leaning in to kiss you softly. When the two of you pulled apart, she sneered, “Is that how you kiss him too?”

You clicked your tongue, a hand reaching under her thigh to move her body so she was straddling you. “Do you really wanna know? I’ll show you exactly what Kit and I do when nobody’s looking.” you spat, earning a gasp from Manon when your hand cupped the back of her neck, yanking her down into you for a heated kiss.

It was a long night of entertaining producing executives and crew members, but you were very happy to have your girlfriend meet the people you’ve been working with for months. When it came time for you to give Kit a hug in greeting though, Manon made sure her disapproval was made known.

You had an upcoming role in the third season of the White Lotus, you were not excited about how the Ghanaian woman would react to the scenes on that show.

[suplicyy]

Hello!! Can you do tsukki, kuroo, akaashi, kenma, shirabu, suna, and atsumu with a fem reader gf who is an actor and she has to do kiss scenes sometimes and char gets jealous? Tyy!

Also ik this is a lot of characters so take your time :)

— Tags/Genre: Fluff | Fem!Reader | Timeskip

— Characters: Tsukishima, Kuroo, Kenma, Akaashi, Shirabu, Suna and Atsumu.

— Warnings: None!

╰┈➤ Tsukishima Kei

He's definitely one of the most rational on this list, and as much as he tries to look at this situation as normal, he can't help but feel his eyebrows furrow slightly at the idea.

Well, that's your job, and you're not going to stop loving him and he's not going to stop trusting you because of something that both actors are dealing with professionally.

But even if he doesn't show it (at least that's what he thinks), you know the man you have.

The eye roll when you mention what happened, the drumming of his fingers on the table, and also the short but dry answers he gives you.

He really doesn't want to act like this towards you, after all he loves you, but he really can't help but feel jealous.

And speaking of jealousy, he would NEVER declare it to you out loud, this man is is annoyingly proud until the end.

However, you know very well what he is feeling, since every time you mention the recordings of your current project, he always finds a reason to mock about your romantic partner in the series/film.💀

╰┈➤ Kuroo Tetsurou

Even though he is the more playful type with you, so to speak, he wouldn't mind too much if you had to do something like that.

All the moments you spent together, all the words of love exchanged, every gesture, every look, all of this is enough for Kuroo to know that you love him with all your heart, just as he also loves you very much. <3

So obviously he's going to make some sarcastic comments about how 'I'm definitely a better kisser than this guy' or something like that.

But he wouldn't be worried about things like "maybe she won't love me anymore", for him these are silly thoughts.

He trusts you completely, and knows that you always handle everything that happens on set in a professional manner.

I think you would be more worried about this kiss than Kuroo, so he's the one who has to assure you that he knows how much you love him!!

And even if he assures you that everything is fine, he won't refuse the many compensatory kisses you give to him...🤫

╰┈➤ Kenma Kozume

Kenma is really a calm guy, it's rare for him to lose his temper.

And even in a situation like that, I honestly see him continuing to be the same.😭

It's not that he doesn't mind you kissing another man, after all the first time you told him that, you saw his face contort into an irritated grimace.

But he knows it's just for the recording, so he'd just be a little jealous at first!!

I see him as someone who doesn't share much about his personal life as a streamer, but his subscribers definitely know that you are his girlfriend, after all you are a very famous person too.

So they wouldn't be surprised if, At the beginning of his live, out of nowhere, he announced a film that had just premiered just because you were in it.

"Well, the movie is already in theaters, so watch it! It's pretty cool... except for the kissing part..." he says pretending to be jealous, and then gives a small smile, while showing the movie poster in his hands to the camera.

╰┈➤ Akaashi Keiji

Definitely the calmest and most responsible on the list.😭

There's no way he would be jealous of you, because he knows you both love each other, he trusts you and knows he have nothing to worry about.

Just like Kuroo, you might be more worried about this situation than he is, thinking that it would upset him in some way.

And if you're nervous because it's your first time doing a movie scene like that, Akaashi would definitely calm you down and assure you that you'll do well in the filming!!

He sees how talented you are as an actress, and believes you are capable of completing any type of scene, even though they might make you a little worried.

But he will always be there to support you with whatever you need, comforting you with the sweetest words.

╰┈➤ Kenjiro Shirabu

He would be PISSED💀

I see him as someone who, when he's jealous or upset about something, can't hide it at all.

Whether it's his facial expressions, like a contortion of his face, and a slight pout appearing on his beautiful face... or in his own words.

"...Ew." That was the only comment he made when you showed him the photo of the person you were going to record with...

Even if he gets jealous about this whole situation, he would try not to think about it too much, otherwise he might just stay with a sullen face all day long.

But all you have to do is give him a few kisses and he'll melt right away and forget about it!!

If some of his friends (probably Goshiki and Tendou...😭) asked him if he was jealous of your kissing scene, teasing him, he would probably let another comment slip out.

"Why would I be jealous of someone who doesn't even know how to kiss well?"

╰┈➤ Suna Rintarou

When you talk to him about it, you can be sure that he would immediately pull out his cell phone to research the actor who will do the scene with you.

He didn't say this to you, but he did it in the hope of finding some controversy in which the person is involved, so he can show it to you...🧍‍♂️

Somehow, I see him as someone who is very much in the know about things that happen in the world of celebrities, the internet, etc.

So if he was a well-known actor, I think Suna would recognize him and other movies/series he was in and comment on it for you.

"He has the charisma equivalent to that of a door. Why did they put someone so boring in that role?"

I don't think he would be too jealous, but he is too clingy, so I think he would just cling to you all day while making fun of the situation.

╰┈➤ Atsumu Miya

If you told him that the world would be invaded by aliens and all of humanity would be exterminated, it would be less important for him than hearing that you were going to kiss someone other than him...

He acts in such a dramatic way, it's as if you're actually going to marry the person you're going to do the scene with.

"LET ME DO THE SCENE WITH YOU INSTEAD OF HIM!!" "Tsumu... you are not an actor..." "Huh, I guess now I'll have to give up my career as a volleyball player and become an actor..."

He's the kind of guy who when he's jealous, he crosses his arms while tapping his foot impatiently on the floor, rolling his eyes while huffing in annoyance, waiting for you to pay attention to him.

But despite that, of course he would watch your movie, after all, he wouldn't miss any work his beloved participated in!!

But when the kiss scene came on screen, he would do anything to grab the TV remote and skip that scene, swearing that this scene adds nothing to the film's purpose.😭

— A/N: I'm obsessed with Alien Stage and that's all I can think about...... You guys have no idea, this has completely changed my life (for the worse)😍🤩🥰🤩😍🤩😍

[ghostedgwen]

heyy miko!! how are u? hope you're doing well <3 so, i got this one idea that i think that'd be incredible in your writing!

James x Slytherin!Reader - she hates him, but he’s been obsessed with her since they first met. he makes a deal: if Gryffindor wins the next match against Slytherin, she has to go on a date with him. gryffindor wins (obviously), and he asks her out in the most embarrassing, James Potter way: performing for her on the pitch in front of the whole school. i had Did I Mention scene from descendants in mind lol.

did I mention | j.potter

note : Hello, anon! I've been well, thanks for asking! Thank you so much for trusting me with this request! I really enjoyed this one, I was laughing as I wrote it. Also, I decided to use the lyrics from the actual song instead of cooking up my own cringey verse hope that's ok

warning : embarrassing if you look too deeply into it, enemies to lovers ? maybe, james is a very endearing idiot, house rivalry, banter, Gryffindor reckless behavior x Slytherin "wtf are u doing" dynamic

You lose a bet with James Potter, and he decides to marvel in your defeat with a song performance at the Quidditch Pitch to officially ask you out on a date.

There are a few constants in your life: the Slytherin common room always smells faintly of old parchment and ambition. The Black Lake is most beautiful just before dawn. And James Potter is insufferable.

You’d like to think you’re immune to Gryffindor nonsense. You don’t rise to their provocations, don’t flinch at their theatrics, don’t care for their sweeping speeches about bravery and justice and all that rot. You’re clever enough to win a duel with logic and cool-headed strategy, not brute force or reckless wand waving.

And yet, James bloody Potter never seems to get the hint.

He spots you from across the corridor like a Snitch mid-game - target locked - and you swear his hair ruffles itself in anticipation. One blink and he’s there, sliding up beside you with all the subtlety of a howler.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he says, as if it’s normal. As if he didn’t nearly trip over a third-year trying to reach you.

You don’t stop walking, your voice levelled as you speak without looking at him. “Potter.”

“You dream of me last night?”

“Only if it was a nightmare.”

“Oof. She’s got teeth.”

“She’s got standards.”

It goes like this every day. He flashes a grin like it’s weaponized, and you swat it away like a fly. You’re not sure when it started - second year, maybe, when he tried to show off in Charms and accidentally levitated your entire desk into the ceiling. Or third year, when you finally snapped and hexed his eyebrows clean off after one too many loud declarations of love.

He was smitten ever since. The idiot.

You're not impressed. Gryffindor’s golden boy, adored by half the school, Quidditch captain, grades that aren't as bad as you'd hoped - he's got everything handed to him and still acts like the castle is his personal playground. You're not interested in golden retrievers. You like sharp minds and sharper wit. Potter is all chaos and confidence, never still long enough to think.

Unfortunately, he’s made it his life’s mission to orbit yours.

“You’d look fantastic in red, by the way,” he calls out as you disappear into Potions. “I mean, green’s nice, but red would really bring out the scowl.”

You don’t dignify it with a response.

In Slytherin, you’re a known quantity. Smart, strategic, and poised. You walk the line between aloof and approachable so perfectly it’s practically studied. You’re respected because you’ve never needed to demand it. You don’t court attention, and that’s exactly why people look.

That includes James Potter, unfortunately.

And now, with the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch match looming, the rivalry has reached a fever pitch. The pitch is practically buzzing with tension. You have nothing to do with it, no position on the team, no behind-the-scenes strategy, but house pride runs in your blood, and the Slytherin common room’s been buzzing for weeks.

You’re outside the Great Hall the morning of the match, a book in hand and a scowl ready for whoever dares interrupt, when the scent of grass and ego drifts toward you.

Potter.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he says, jogging up with his broom over his shoulder, hair a mess that you’re almost convinced he cultivates with spellwork. “Don’t tell me you’re hiding.”

“I don’t need to hide when my house is going to wipe the pitch with yours,” you reply dryly, not looking up. “Shouldn’t you be stretching or something?”

“I stretch before bed. Want to watch sometime?”

“Do you hear yourself?”

“Only the best bits.”

He grins like he’s already won, and you have to force yourself not to sigh. The castle is already buzzing with match-day energy. You’d planned to watch the game in the stands with your Slytherin scarf wrapped around you on top of a green jumper.

But today, something makes you pause.

“Let’s make it interesting,” you say, snapping your book closed.

His eyes spark. “Oh?”

“If Slytherin wins,” you say, voice cool, crisp, practiced, “you stop talking to me. Forever. No winks in the corridor. No howlers disguised as singing Valentines. Nothing.”

He places a hand dramatically over his heart. “You’d really deprive the world of this banter?”

“World? No. Me? Gladly.”

He narrows his eyes, smirks. “Alright then. If Gryffindor wins…”

You cross your arms. “Let me guess. I have to wear a Gryffindor scarf for a week.”

“Tempting,” he says. “But no. If we win - you go on a date with me.”

You blink. “You’re joking.”

“Dead serious.”

You study him for a moment. There’s that sparkle in his eyes that you recognize from every reckless stunt he’s ever pulled - a challenge. He lives for this. And for some twisted reason, you find yourself holding out your hand.

“If we win,” you repeat, “you stop talking to me.”

“If we win,” he counters, taking your hand, “you give me a shot.”

The handshake is electric. The corridor, quiet a moment before, erupts with students who apparently had been listening in from both ends.

“Oh my god,” someone squeals.

“You’re mad,” someone else gasps.

“Finally,” mutters another.

You barely hear them. You’re locked on Potter’s grin, and the smug tilt of his brow. He thinks he’s got this in the bag.

You think he’s going to eat dirt.

The match is chaos. That was the only way you could describe it in all honesty, majority of it was red and green blurs zooming across the pitch.

With the chaos of green and red ensuing under the bright and clear sky, the crowd screams itself hoarse. You’re seated in the Slytherin stands with your arms crossed and your heart in your throat. You’re not invested in the tactics, but house pride simmers hot in your chest.

James Potter is impossible to ignore. He flies like he was born in the air, reckless and brilliant and infuriatingly good.

Slytherin’s Seeker almost catches the Snitch - twice. But Gryffindor’s Keeper pulls off a save that should’ve been impossible, and suddenly, they’re up by ten, then thirty.

Your hands are clenched. You don’t care, not really, and yet -

Potter executes a loop-the-loop feint so absurd it draws gasps from the stands, drawing Slytherin’s Beaters out of position, and Gryffindor’s Seeker snatches the Snitch right from under their nose.

Final score: Gryffindor wins by sixty.

The stadium erupts.

You sit back, winded, heart thudding.

He won.

Shit.

The Quidditch match ended in an explosion of red and gold. Gryffindor had won.

Naturally, the entire school was buzzing.

It had been a close game - fierce, fast, and even brutal. Even you had felt a tiny sliver of adrenaline watching it, arms crossed and brows lifted from your usual corner of the Slytherin stands. But now, with the game over, you had one very specific goal in mind: disappear before James Potter finds you.

Because a deal was a deal.

And Potter would never let you forget a deal.

You slipped away before the final whistle stopped echoing, weaving through crowds of shouting Gryffindors and grumbling Slytherins, down the back steps of the stands, heart thudding like you’d just run laps around the pitch. If you were lucky, he’d be too busy being celebrated to come looking for you. If you were lucky, he’d gloat about the match and forget the bet.

If you were really lucky, he’d get struck by a stray Bludger still on the loose.

You didn’t get far.

Halfway across the pitch, the grass beneath your boots still dewy and soft, you heard it.

A sudden, magically-enhanced echo of a microphone crackling to life.

You stopped walking.

Oh no.

“Oh, ladies and gentlemen,” James Potter’s voice rang out, smug and all too familiar, “I hope you haven’t left just yet.”

A groan escaped you. You turned slowly, already seeing the crowd of students stalling at the gates, everyone turning back toward the pitch.

There he was. Front and centre on the grass, under the setting sun, in his wrinkled Gryffindor jersey, broom tossed aside. He held a charmed microphone in one hand and wore that smile - the one that always preceded something catastrophic.

How he even got a microphone is beyond you - and why you knew what it is was besides the point.

Sirius stood behind him, looking like a backup for some performance being cooked up. You started walking faster.

James cleared his throat. “Now, I know we’re all reeling from that win - thank you, thank you - but before you head off to celebrate, I have one teeny, tiny thing to take care of.”

You were nearly at the exit.

“Oi! _____!”

The crowd parted like the sea, and suddenly every head was turning your way. Every face. Every expression lit with delighted horror and secondhand embarrassment. You stopped dead on your tracks, like a snake caught in headlights.

James grinned wider. “This one’s for you.”

And then - music.

Fucking music was the last thing you expected to cue in the moment he flashed a grin so wide it could’ve ripped his cheeks.

You didn’t know who had enchanted what, or where the band had come from, but suddenly James Potter was launching into a full, ridiculous, very real musical number.

“♪ I met this girl who rocked my world ♪”

You blinked.

“♪ Like it's never been rocked ♪”

He spun. He spun. Sirius groaned and joined in on backup vocals.

“♪ And now I'm living just for her ♪”

Someone behind you gasped. A fourth-year clutched her heart. The Hufflepuff girls were screaming.

You pressed your fingers against your mouth, determined not to laugh. Not to give him the satisfaction - despite yourself, you were struggling not to contort your face to laugh.

“♪ And I won't ever stop ♪”

(“I beg Merlin every day that you will,” you muttered under your breath.)

“♪ I never thought that it could happen to a guy like me. ♪”

He was closing in now, slowly making his way towards you as he sang those embarrassing lyrics. How Potter keeps his pride intact after this is beyond you, how you keep yours is also beyond you.

“♪ But now look at what you've done ♪”

You scoffed in offence at that, his lyrics implied you did something to him which you did not. You were not at fault for whatever is going on with him, you shot him a look through the field while he remains undeterred.

“♪ You got me, down on my knee ♪”

He winked at you through the chaos. You tried - Merlin, you tried - not to break. But your mouth twitched. Just barely. Your lips parted.

James saw it.

He let out a delighted yell and dropped to his knees on the pitch. The music slowed to a dramatic ballad tempo.

He extended a hand to you.

“_____,” he said, theatrically breathless. “So. What do you say? A deal’s a deal.”

Your cheeks burned from the sheer shame and your ears rang from the silence of everyone's anticipation, the crowd watched in a collection of bathed breaths.

The entire school was watching. You could say no. You could hex him. You wanted to hex him. You should hex him.

Instead, you stepped forward slowly, arms crossed, letting him sweat a little more.

“I didn’t realize you had a death wish,” you said dryly. “This is next-level idiocy, even for you.”

He grinned up at you. “I thought it was quite inspired.”

“You got down on your knees.”

“Uh huh.”

You sighed. And finally - finally - let a small laugh escape. You couldn’t keep it in any more, the whole thing was absurd, like some fever dream (or rather, a nightmare) you could only cook up during quiet nights.

His eyes lit up like the sun coming through stained-glass.

The crowd roared.

You looked down at him, this golden-retriever idiot of a boy, who had just serenaded you in front of hundreds of people like it was the most natural thing in the world. And you took his hand.

“Fine,” you said, letting him pull you gently toward him. “One date.”

He beamed like he’d just caught the Snitch.

“One date,” you repeated. “And if you ever sing in public again, I will hex you.”

“No promises.”

Sirius whooped, you could already hear the teasing from your house mates over the whole affair. You had lost a bet and got a very public performance at that. The entire pitch was screaming like they’d just witnessed a marriage proposal.

James bowed with an absurd flourish and kissed your hand like some chivalrous knight. You rolled your eyes but didn’t bother stopping him, you knew how to admit defeat. Albeit how embarrassing this one was.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“Never,” he said with a grin. “But just in case - next song’s already written.”

You didn’t punch him. But it was a very near thing.

end. masterlist

[sincerelybubbles]

pairing: spencer reid x reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: angst, resolved angst though!! i keep promises!! also, shower scene but sfw !! i am just a slut for an innocent shower scene

part 1

Spencer doesn't come back that night and you sleep alone in the bed. It's too big, too empty, too quiet.

Your morning feels liquid without him. He usually makes the coffee, you figure out lunches. Brushing past each other, gentle hands, gentler smiles.

Everything feels hollow -- off-kilter. You're late to work for the first time in years, running behind with raw eyes and no reminders of the time shouted across the room.

Of course, you're used to the mornings that he's away. When he's in a different state you do this alone all of the time, but it's punctuated with texts and calls and promises that this isn't your new normal.

But now, the possibility hangs low over your head, a storm cloud dripping steadily over you as you work.

Annoyingly, the weather doesn't reflect your mood: it's sunny, there's a breeze, leaves cover the ground. It's the sort of weather you would convince Spencer to take a walk in. It's the sort of weather that, eons ago, he would have noticed and brought you out to walk in without you asking first.

It's not easy to notice when the shift happened. One moment he was exactly who you fell in love with: passionate about his job, sure, but equally excited about you. But, slowly, he changed. Like ice melting in water left outside, the parts of him that made every moment apart worth it slid down the glass and evaporated. The Spencer left is vacant, reading files at home even when you know he doesn't need to. He hasn't planned a date in months, hasn't texted you because he read something new that he wanted to share, hasn't seemed to see you for longer than a few seconds in weeks.

You tried to bring it up to him but the conversation was put aside because of a work call. He had to go but he pressed a kiss into your hair, hugged you tight, and promised you would work on it. Together.

That was over a month ago and he's made no effort. If anything, things have gotten worse. You can't remember the last conversation you had with him that had any true substance.

"Alright, go home." Your boss' voice cuts through your thoughts, startling you into the now.

"Sorry?"

"Go home, get some sleep, you look like shit," he says, shaking his head at you. "Don't argue, you're only missing a few hours, we'll survive without you."

Thanking him, you gather your things and begin the walk back to your car, scattering the fallen leaves with your feet.

You try to think of anything else as you get in the car, turning on music. It's hard, but you do it. You think about what to cook for dinner, what chores need to get done, mundane things that usually plague you.

You don't think about if you still have a relationship. You refuse the thought every time it creeps into your mind, shaking your head as if to physically remove the thought.

Spencer's car is in the driveway when you pull in. You put the car in park and stare at it, letting your head slowly fall forward and cheek rest on the steering wheel. He was so rarely home in the middle of the day on weekdays. You're not sure if you're ready to face him but know you have no choice.

With a sigh, you get out of the car and make your way into the house.

You can hear him moving around in the kitchen when you push the door open. Quietly, you slip out of your shoes and set your things on the table. Without saying anything, you go to your bedroom and start the shower.

You're tired of always initiating the conversations. You're tired of seeking his attention, practically begging for it, only to be shut down. Let him come to you if he's really sorry -- if he even is sorry.

You've been in the shower less than a minute when you hear your name being called. The bathroom door opens and you can just make out Spencer's head poking inside the room through the shower curtain.

"Hello?" He asks, stepping inside.

"Hi."

"I didn't hear you come in." You don't answer him, wetting your hair instead. "Can I sit?" He asks after a moment, his voice hesitant.

"Sure, if you want."

You watch as his shadow crosses the bathroom and he sits on the toilet, slouched, forearms resting on his knees.

"I was an idiot last night," he starts. You stay quiet, silently agreeing as you begin to shampoo your hair. "I can't honestly say anyone or anything is more important than my job. And I know you understand that, you've always understood that. I mean, I'm saving lives. Protecting people. What I do, it's important."

"I know," you say, softly.

"I know you know," Spencer says, just as softly, voice hurt. "But that doesn't mean you're not important or that I can treat you as less of a priority. Because you are, you know. A priority. Pretty much my main one."

You hang your head under the warm water, watching it drip through your hair and take the suds away with it. The soap runs down your arms, down your legs, and swirls around the drain. Steam lifts over the curtain, filling the air and making your eyes hazy.

There isn't much to say other than, "I haven't really felt like one."

"And I was an asshole when you tried to tell me, I know." Spencer rubs his hands across his face, voice agitated.

"What happened?" You ask, eyes still trained on the drain.

"Nothing, really. I think I just let myself get too sucked in. I mean, you've always been so consistent in my life, even before we got together, that I just sort of always expect you'll be there for me."

"I will," you admit, leaning against the wall of the shower so you can watch his shadow move as he speaks. It's true, you'll always be there for Spencer.

Spencer shakes his head, leaning forward and resting it in his hands. "You shouldn't have to if I can't prove the same is true in reverse. I should be just as consistent. I used to be just as consistent. I prided myself on how well I managed our relationship and our job. I got too comfortable, too cocky, too sure that I couldn't fuck this up that I ended up doing just that."

"I don't think you've fucked this up." Spencer laughs, low and harsh, lifting his head to look at the ceiling. "No, really. I think you just fucked up but it's nothing that can't be fixed."

"You deserve better."

"You are better, Spencer. I know you are. You're just going through something. I don't know what, I don't even think you know what, but if you let me in, we can work through it together. Just, you can't push me away."

"I don't even want to push you away, that's the thing. I can tell when I'm doing it but I can't figure out how to stop."

"Well, this is the best way to start. By telling me. I trust you. I trust us. Do you?"

"I trust you," Spencer says, voice breaking. "And, yeah, I trust us."

"Then that's all we need, no?"

He joins you in the shower a few minutes later. All innocence, helping you wash your hair and letting you wash his. The water is warm, you're in each other's spaces, not talking but just together.

It's the mundane task that truly starts to make you feel better. He's gentle as he works conditioner in your hair, eyes shut in peace when he bends down for you to run your fingers through his.

He jumps out before you to grab your towel, opening it and wrapping you up before hugging you. Warm, steady, he rubs small circles on the nape of your neck, under your dripping hair, where he holds you close.

"I was going to make dinner, I was making a list when you walked in," he says when the two of you make your way back into the kitchen. "I wasn't expecting you to be home yet."

"I was sent home early because I looked tired. Well, he actually said 'like shit' but I know what he meant." You send him a sarcastic smile as you sit down at the kitchen table, leaning forward to look at his grocery list, puzzling out what he wants to cook. "What about you? Why are you home so early?"

Hands shoved in the pockets of his sweats, Spencer shrugs. "Today is pretty much just a paperwork day. I got what I needed to get done out of the way and went home. The team was confused but they'll be fine."

"You left early?" You ask, raising an eyebrow and your gaze to watch him.

"Like I said, you're a priority, too. You deserve to be treated like one. I can't leave early most days, but the ones I can ... you deserve that, at the very least."

You stand, shuffling over in your socks, to hug him around the waist. His hands come to wrap around your shoulders without hesitation, smoothing over your hair.

You stand like that for a minute, his grasp firm, your nose pressed into his neck.

"We're going to be okay," you whisper, just as much for him as yourself.

"Of course," he replies.

here u guys go, luv u <3

i have something else (much much better writing quality wise imo) in the drafts so keep an eye out!! this is just a silly little thing but i still enjoyed seeing ur guys' reactions to it !!

[zuzu-tries-to-write]

hello! So far you have made really good post, and it made me think, what if you made one about bakugou x y/n, they JUST started making out and started this thing where after class and even the cafeteria hours they would go to the roof top and make out, and then come back to class and act like nothing ever happened. Also somtimes he would throw a paper and secretly desk her under the desk where they would meet up. 😍

Title: “Between Bells and Rooftops”

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Genre: Romance, Secret Relationship, Slight Angst, Fluff, Heavy Tension

⸻

You didn’t plan to fall into this routine—this messy, thrilling, addictive routine. It just happened.

It started with a kiss. Just one. After class. The hallway was mostly empty, your hand brushing against Bakugou’s as you reached for the same notebook on a desk. His eyes met yours, and for once, they weren’t sharp or biting. They were heated, locked, and something in them flickered like a match.

He pulled you into the nearest broom closet like a scene out of a cliché manga, pressed you against the wall, and kissed you like he had been waiting for it for years. It was rough, clumsy, and fueled by frustration he’d probably been burying since day one. But it was also perfect.

And it didn’t stop there.

Now, it’s become a thing.

A whispered nod from across the classroom. A flicked paper note that barely makes a sound as it lands on your lap under the desk. You open it—sometimes it’s blank, sometimes it’s just three words: rooftop. 12:40. now. No signature. He doesn’t need one.

You glance up, and he doesn’t even look at you. His hands are behind his head, feet crossed on his desk like he’s bored out of his mind.

But you know better.

So you slip away during cafeteria hour, brushing off questions from your friends. “Bathroom,” you mutter. “Library.” “Need to grab a book from the dorm.” Lies, sweet and practiced.

When you step onto the rooftop, he’s already there—leaning against the railing, eyes flicking up at the sound of the door shutting behind you.

There’s no time for words.

Your back hits the wall, and he’s kissing you again like he needs to. His hands dig into your waist, and your fingers twist in the collar of his uniform. The wind up here is cool, but his body is warm, burning.

The kiss is all teeth and tongue at first, but then it slows, deepens. Like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your lips, the way your breath hitches, the sound you make when he sucks just under your jaw. Like you’re something he’s afraid to lose.

“Damn it,” he mutters into your skin. “Can’t focus in class ‘cause of you.”

“Then stop calling me up here,” you tease breathlessly, tugging on his tie.

He grabs your chin, forcing your gaze up to his. “You love it.”

You don’t deny it. Can’t.

Sometimes, after the kiss, you both just sit down, backs against the rooftop wall, the silence humming between you. He doesn’t say much—he’s never been one to waste words—but every so often he’ll glance over at you, cheeks a little flushed, and nudge your shoulder like he’s saying, yeah, I like this too.

Then the bell rings.

And like always, you dust yourself off, fix your collar, and head down the stairs. You walk into class one after the other, no eye contact, no shared looks. You sit two desks apart like strangers.

And yet—when you slide into your seat, something hits your ankle. A paper.

You glance around, heart skipping, and then reach down and unfold it under the desk.

This one says:

You’re mine. Don’t forget it.

There’s a tiny burn mark at the corner. He must’ve accidentally singed it with his Quirk again.

You bite your lip, folding the paper up and tucking it into your pocket. No one notices the way your smile lingers longer than usual. Not even Iida catches it—and he catches everything.

⸻

You know this thing can’t stay secret forever. Eventually, someone will follow you, or see the marks he leaves on your collarbone when he forgets how sharp his teeth are. Eventually, someone will see the way his gaze softens when you laugh in the common room.

But for now?

This rooftop, these stolen moments, these paper notes?

They’re yours. His. Yours together.

And maybe, just maybe… that’s enough.

[uno-san]

Hiii! Could I rq reader who was Fords gf/so before he left and when he comes back he’s happy bc he realizes reader stayed in Gravity Falls the whole time and maybe even helped Stan fix the portal!

But then Bill comes and it’s totally up to u whether to make Bill like super jealous of reader or become just as obsessed with reader as he is with Ford idk.

Thank u!

Hello! Thanks so much for sending in a request. This is the first thing I've written in FOREVER, so I miiiiight have gotten carried away. Hope you and everybody else enjoys!

It always reminded you of the night sky. 

That, or what lied far beyond it. Beyond you, maybe. But never Stanford Pines. Who, in this very moment stood several yards from where you yourself were. The both of you had that strange, not-quite night sky wrapped around your forms. Yet instead of the endless expanse that space was known for, various journals, textbooks, and equations littered that space around you.

It would have been a marvelous sight if you didn’t know the purpose behind this all-too tailored world for Stanford. A trap meant to make him feel seen and applauded in ways you couldn’t quite match. A place for them to meet.

Beside Stanford was another figure. A three-sided one to be exact who had taken place near his shoulder, where he had been far longer than you could have ever known. But here he didn’t need to whisper his lies. Here, the two of them could simply converse and enjoy each other’s company. A wonderful plan to make Stanford feel known while also shutting you out from the light altogether.

Their laughter was uproarious.

“AHAHAHAHA! COME ON, SIXER, YOU DON’T MEAN THAT!”

A shrill voice cut through your observations. The devilish figure that it belonged to had placed his hands over his chest, or stomach, as if he were trying and failing to hold in his joy. His one eye was closed and curved to show a smile that his body didn’t have the means to actually do. His tie meanwhile spun in circles as if a toy had been wound up.

‘Sixer’ had his eyes lowered to the platform of which he stood. Tucked under his arm was one of his prized journals, where each of his six fingers drummed against its spine. He looked bashful under interrogation.

“What, not quite the term your ego would prefer, Bill?” Stanford finally shot back, his gaze raising to meet Bill’s while his eyebrow raised to pose a challenge.

“NOT AT ALL!” 

The demon began to circle around Stanford, who’s whole body began to turn with a determination not to break eye contact again. As if he were afraid of losing sight of Bill. Or his attention. Seeing it reminded you of a puppy enamored with its owner. Its everything, really. You had been familiar with it at some point yourself. What felt like ages ago now.

“JUST SURPRISED, IS ALL. I MEAN, AAAAAAAAALL I’VE DONE IS EXPAND YOUR MIND TO THE UNIVERSE OUTSIDE YOUR PUNY WORLD, SHOW YOU NEW COLORS, AND GIVE YOU THE PERFECT COMEBACKS EVERY TIME YOU GET INTO AN ARGUMENT,” He humbly bragged, “BUT IS THAT ALL REALLY WORTH IT TO BE CALLED YOUR-”

MUSE.

Muse.

Muse.

Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse.

That damn word was going to be imprinted on your brain with how often it was quite literally repeating. Out Loud. High-pitched and nearly shattering your ear drums, a physical manifestation of the word appeared in the space to hurl itself in your direction; A move you’ve seen one too many times. You nimbly dodged off to the side without losing your footing like you had the first time this occurred. With both your feet planted firmly on the ground you whipped your head around to catch the end of the show.

The scene had frozen. Stanford’s expression was stuck in a form of denial, his cheeks tinted a rosy color that you used to make them turn. His brow was furrowed as if he were concerned. Or desperate to assure Bill that he truly was worth it all. Bill meanwhile had his arms folded behind his back while his half-lidded eye bore down on its prey like a benevolent mentor.

Bill’s pupil slowly slid in your direction.

“A BENEVOLENT MUSE, YOU MEAN.”

Bill Cipher became animated again. This time he no longer addressed the version of Stanford standing before him. His smug attention was all focused on you now. His small frame managed to tower over you in mere presence alone, even at the distance you two stood at.

Arms folded behind his back, there was a silence that followed while Bill inspected you. Perhaps waiting for you to give a response before he settled on his own. He feigned surprise.

“DIDN’T EXPECT TO CATCH YOU HERE. SIXER AND I WERE JUST HAVING A MOMENT ALONE,” Bill emphasized, his arm outstretching far past its supposed physical limit to wrap itself around Stanford’s still frame, “YOU KNOW, LIKE WE’VE BEEN HAVING FOR A WHILE. BEHIND YOUR BACK. IN FACT HE WAS JUST ABOUT TO GET TO COMPLIMENTING ME. SINCE I’M HIS MUSE. HIS SKY. STARS. WHATEVER.”

Muse.

Another manifestation hurled its way in your direction. You weren’t nearly as prepared and the edges of the word were sharp, slicing into your arm to draw what you assumed to be blood. With a wince you had to steady your balance before your glare shot back to the bastard in front of you.

He was a menace who you hadn’t realized you had been in competition with for years. And now, in a pissing contest with as the man you’re both fighting over like teenagers was lost in worlds unknown. The man you had loved and had been prepared to marry was gone now. Leaving you with his unfaithful ‘Muse’.

Oh, how you’ve come to hate the word.

It happened first when you had learned of the existence of an other-worldly being that had been secretly leading Stanford’s ambitions. Second was when you had discovered Ford’s hidden collection of idols and paintings. All squirreled away in a private chamber of his own viewing pleasure. That had been manageable.

But the fondness in his gaze when discussing their meetings made your heart ache. How he’d talk as if Bill Cipher was the sole purpose of everything now. His reason for continuing his research or facing adversity for his talents. Or the way he’d pause in the middle of a task to instead laugh at a memory of Bill from earlier, with his hands looking to busy themselves as a distraction.

All of that had hurt. But what made you hate the word most of all was its constant use to torture you. That the moment Bill had sensed your distaste for the term he had done nothing but plague your mind with it. Shoving it in your face as if he was a secret side woman in some stately affair.

Thus far this has been your nightly routine for several months now. Ever since Stanford Pines went missing from this world and so many others. With his brother, Stanley, being left behind with you to pick up the pieces to get back your lost loved one. And for some reason or other, Bill had set his sights on tormenting you.

Every night. Different visions of their bonded moments played in your mind while Bill sneered and poked fun at you for being fool enough to never notice the signs of your man slipping away. You never knew if what he showed you was true. You hoped not.

“THEY’RE REAL.”

You ignore him a moment to get back on two feet. Standing tall before him.

“Do you plan on taking me through your ‘Greatest Hits’ every night or are you going to fuck off already?” The venom in your tone caused interest to gleam in his eye. Most nights you try not to dignify his taunts with a response. But you were tired. Both mentally and physically thanks to late nights with Stanley to try to get the portal running again, or your lonely crying sessions blaming yourself for letting this go on for so long. You were exhausted.

“AW, DIDN’T THINK YOU’D GET SO CRANKY OVER A LITTLE FUN FORDSY AND I WERE HAVING! I’M SURE IT’S EASY TO GET INSECURE OVER THE IDEA OF YOUR MAN GETTING THE CHANCE TO VISIT A SUPERIOR BEING EVERY NIGHT BUT HE MENTIONED YOU ONCE OR TWICE. Y’KNOW, ABOUT HOW YOU’RE ‘SAFE’ AND ‘STABLE’.”

You knew he was just trying to get a rise out of you. Perhaps even deter you from working on that portal any further, ensuring that Stanford would remain lost to mystery forevermore. “Say what you want Bill but I know him better than what your mind creeping could ever do. You miscalculated by seeing only the parts that benefited you and that’s going to end up biting you in the ass. Because it doesn’t matter what you and Stanford had before. Whatever was there is GONE, and I know that Stanford will be coming to end you too.”

It was difficult to keep your voice steady to feign the confidence that you hadn’t had in a long time. You stood bravely in the face of Bill, who’s form only grew in size while you charged up your own argument. He was nearly towering over you now while his gaze remained steady on you. His expression was unreadable.

“WELL WELL WELL, I-”

He’s yapped for far too long.

“Maybe that’s the point to all of this,” You gestured to the spectacle put on pause, “You realize you fucked up. Pushed too hard. Or maybe you’re not even playing this for me. You’re just trying to convince yourself that Ford is still in the palm of your hand when in reality, he despises you. Wants you dead. That despite all the compliments and praises you keep showing me he still picked me over you.”

You weren’t sure if any of this was going to strike a chord. Especially with being in the dark as long as you had, there was nothing for you to fight with. The best you could do was treat him like the vindictive affair partner he was pretending to be. And it worked. Or it was the hint of a suggestion you made in saying you were chosen over him.

Bill’s form skyrocketed in size from its already heightened form, with the triangle now bending over you now to force you to nearly tilt your head all the way back just to make eye contact. His pupil was entirely black to reflect your new surroundings as the static image of Ford and their place of contact was suddenly whisked away. What used to be a bright yellow turned to blood-red bricks that you swore you could feel heat coming off of.

“STANFORD PINES FEARS ME,” Bill’s voice boomed, “AND THAT’S EXACTLY WHERE I WANT HIM. THINKING OF ME AND CHASING AFTER MY COATTAILS UNTIL THAT NERD COMES TO REASON. AND UNTIL THEN YOU-”

His fingers snapped. The ground beneath you disappeared and you felt weightlessness hit as you began to descend into a dark pit. “YOU WILL NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN!”

The vision of the gigantic demon began to fade away. His voice still boomed and echoed despite the void that they were shouted into. As your conscience begins to fade into its own form of nothing you close your eyes to instead repeat his words to yourself.

Never see him again.

__

The Mystery Shack above you groaned with disapproval. Its wood and structure creaked as it finally settled back on the ground, thankfully still supported by its own weight once gravity returned to normal. You were face first on the ground with your head still spinning from that hasty landing you made to resist any damage. With just one peek of an eye you could see that your vision was still hazy. Only a sickeningly familiar blue light kept the basement of the Shack from being in total darkness.

Darkened figures up ahead began to move. When you tried to join them you were quick to discover that your leg caught in debris. A quick examination told you that it wasn’t anything dangerous like active machinery, and the small tugs you gave to test your aching body showed that nothing was quite broken. Hurt, yes, but all intact.

Just like the house you could feel your bones settling back into place while creaking with resentment. You could only imagine how Stanley must have been feeling. Propping yourself up with one arm you then used your freehand to begin pulling away at the rubble on top of you, trying to carefully dismantle it piece by piece so that it wouldn’t collapse on top of you.

Having been so focused on your escape you had only caught the tail-end of what Stanley was telling dipper.

“The author of the Journals…”

Your head whipped around so fast it could have snapped, “My brother.”

As if on cue a figure cladded in a black cloak removed his mask with a six fingered hand, his silver hair whipping around him as he slowly revealed a face you thought you could have anticipated after having aged years with Stanley. The fact that they were twins did little to stop you from tearing up at the handsome visage that was your Stanford Pines.

The wrinkles in his face had deepened from the last you saw him. He was still chiseled with a hint of facial hair he might have shaved off recently while his posture and expression gave off a confidence you weren’t familiar with.

Stanley began to approach him with open arms, prepared to greet the brother he’s missed for years for longer than yours. Stanford didn’t match his sentiments. Instead his fist drew back to strike Stan who had flinched out of the way- But not before Stanford’s fist froze. Left hanging in the air as something else caught his attention. Past Stanley and Dipper. Through various piles of cement and broken wood.

You.

Neither of you moved. His eyes flickered back and forth in a manner that suggested he was examining you all the same. Taking in every detail of your graying form, of each new wrinkle that has marked your age like a tree. The intensity of his gaze made your heart stall for more reasons you could count.

Was that disappointment in his gaze? Or worse, indifference? The world had already been cruel in tearing you apart in the first place. How easy would it be to have Stanford simply forget you? To have moved on to grander and exciting things since his time away. After all, Bill Cipher had enticed him once before. YOU nearly lost him once before. Who’s to say you haven’t wasted your years chasing after a man who could no longer remember your face?

Tears began to gather. They soothed the sting of debris in the air to instead replace it with a dull ache in your heart. At this point you could have been crying over any number of things. You tried calling out his name but the words caught in your throat.

He shouted yours instead. Pushing passed his stunned brother and great nephew to run in your direction. Just as Stanford was a few feet away he suddenly dropped to his knees to slide the remaining distance. It was a physical endeavor you envied in this moment.

Already Stanford’s arms wrapped around your form, drawing you in close to his chest while he buried his face into your hair. You didn’t dare utter a sound of discomfort. Swallowing your tears you chose to focus on his warmth rather than the pain your body was in. How much studier his arms felt from the last time you were held in them, however long ago that was.

“M…My dear…” Stanford gasped, as if the term of endearment hadn’t been uttered in history before. His six fingers nearly dug into your body with his tight grasp. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “This…This is real. Bill isn’t lying again. You’re here. You.”

From the corner of your vision you could see both Soos and Mabel staring in wonder. Their mouths were left hanging open while they slowly turned to each other to clasp hands together. Mabel began to mouth ‘they have a histooooory!!’

You opted to turn your face into Stanford’s chest to ignore all that as long as you could.

“All these years I’ve waited here for you, Stanford. Every year was spent fixing the portal, I-” Your eyes wandered to his twin, “-We’ve been fixing the portal. Stan and I together decided we weren’t going to stop until you were home safe.”

Stanford drew in a breath. The tension that coiled his posture was a familiar sign of his frustrations being withheld, and with the copious warnings in his Journals to not open the portal again you had a fairly safe guess as to what that tension was. Stanford managed to swallow it down as his hand cupped your cheek and directed your eyes to his.

The years have really gone by. For the both of you, you realized as you gazed into weary and worldly eyes. Did he see the same thing in you? Or has it occurred to him just how truly long it's been since the two of you were close like this. Since way before he was lost in the first place. To where Bill’s schemes began to put the first cracks in the foundations of your relationship.

From the distance the portal still glowed a blue hue, flickering every few moments as the machine began to lose its life at long last for what you pray is the last time. Both of you were left illuminated with blue. The beautiful sight of Stanford had been imprinted on your mind, nearly washing away the years of trauma the color had come to be associated with.

You could have sworn Stanford’s eyes were brimming with tears as well before they closed, the distance between you two gone as he leaned down to capture your quivering lips in a kiss. With it came the relief of a thirty-year grief. Not of a healed relationship but of a path to recovery and trust. You nearly grinned into the kiss. Stanford Pines chose you.

[lemonlover1110]

Hello! I hope you are doing well 😌 you are my fav writer and I just wanted to to throw out this crazy brainrot request to u bc I am SICK over it

So Florence nightingale syndrome right? Toji is like a professional boxer or whatever something athletic bc he's a fucking beast and he gets hurt, like his leg or something, and you become his at home occupational therapist. So you're like taking care of him and he's getting feelings for you while also being a stubborn ass bc u push him constantly so he can get better. and he's super hesitant to accept his feelings bc he's a Playboy of course.

I'm just picturing this one scene where you're helping him up and he's leaning on you and he says something like "are you sure you can handle me princess?" Idk I'm insane I'm sorry 😭😭😭😭

Pairing: boxer!Toji Fushiguro x f!caregiver!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, frustrated Toji, Florence nightingale syndrome, Toji has an injured leg and is a little bitch for a bit

*This was so fun to work on and now I'm having thinking a little too hard about boxer toji (I'm ovulating) sofjsof enjoy!

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji never really thought he’d be dependent on someone, yet now he can’t even take a shower standing up. After an unlucky boxing match, Toji ended up in a cast and crutches. That’s what he gets for not listening to his son who told him it was around time to retire.

“I’m not a fucking skeleton, I’m good in my field. I can do this for a couple more years.” How he wishes he could swallow his fucking words. He thought that after getting the cast off he’d go back to normal, and he’d have no issue with mobility. He shouldn’t have an issue moving his fucking leg again, he’s been moving it for more than thirty years, why should three months of not moving it change much?

Apparently he can’t do anything, which is why he has someone with him all day every day, helping him so he can get better. Toji’s main issue? He gets frustrated when someone tries to help him. 

“Be careful, it’s hot.” You smile at him as you put his dinner in front of him. He has a scowl on his face as you set it down in front of him. He tried to help make dinner but he couldn’t stand for too long. He’s mad, but not at you. He could never be mad at you. 

Toji wasn’t necessarily fond of you when you started working with him; he hates being dependent on someone else, and he knew that he would have to depend on you for pretty much everything. You try to help him though, and he should be more appreciative of you because of it, but in reality he feels like a fucking baby. He’s grown to like you though… A little too much for his liking. 

You leave him to eat, going to wash the dishes since he can’t do the task yet. Perhaps his own bowl and spoon, but not everything that needs to be cleaned. You watch him from the counter, watching his refusal to pick up the spoon and eat the soup you made him. Earlier he was so prideful, telling you that he would help you every step of the way during dinner, and he couldn’t even finish one third of it. You were proud of him regardless.

“It’s really good, Toji! The potatoes you helped peel really added a touch to it.” You’ve gotten close enough to be on a first name basis. You see each other every day, you stay in the same house, of course you’re close enough to talk to each other so casually. It doesn’t mean you should though. You’ve always managed to keep a very professional relationship with patients, but there’s just something about him that makes it hard for you to be normal around him.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking kid.” He says, pushing the bowl of soup away. He’s not hungry anymore. Toji stands up, his hands holding on to the table to support himself before grabbing his crutches. 

“Toji, if you’re not eating it, can you try to bring it over to me, please?” You ask. You know the soup has cooled down, if he spills it, he’ll be fine.

“If you want it, pick it up yourself.” Toji is clearly mad. You don’t take it to heart though, because you know it’s with himself and not you. 

“How about we go to the park tomorrow? It’s supposed to be a nice day out.” You talk to Toji who tries to watch a documentary. He’s not all that interested in what he put on, caring more about what you have to say. He might not show it, and he tries to deny it, but he has the biggest soft spot for you. “We can also get some ice cream, if you’re in the mood!”

“Hey… I’m sorry about earlier. I was just—” It’s hard to get an apology out of him, but sometimes he knows he’s in the wrong and he feels the need to apologize. He doesn’t want you to be mad at him, even though you’re clearly not upset with him. You’re so understanding and patient with him, he feels like he doesn’t deserve that.

“You’re fine, Toji.” You reassure him with a smile, your hand going over his balled up fist. You feel your heart skip a beat as you touch him. You’ve crossed the line past a professional relationship, and you should set some boundaries within yourself– But his other hand goes on top of your own before he brings it up, softly kissing your knuckles. It’s hard to set boundaries when he feels the same way.

“I’m tired.” He tells you, and you stand up to help him get up. Toji usually denies your help, but this time, he has no problem accepting it. You just want the best for him, and there’s some things that he can’t do completely alone. He has to take baby steps. He’s using you for support, and he’s scared that he’s too heavy for you. He asks you, “Are you sure, princess? Can you handle me? I know I’m pretty big.”

“You’re fine. I can handle you.” You reassure him, and you begin to walk to his bedroom. His room was previously on the second floor, but ever since his injury, he’s moved his bedroom to the first floor. You get him to his bedroom, helping him on the bed. You smile at him before saying, “Let me grab your crutches. You left them in the living room, right?”

Before you can walk away, he grabs your sleeve. Toji’s slowly realizing that he can’t fight off the feelings that consume him when you help him, and he’s usually not a fan of them. Toji’s been tied down once before, he certainly doesn’t want that again. But with you, it’s different. He doesn’t mind the idea.

“Will you lay down with me?” He asks, and you suck in your bottom lip between your teeth. You shouldn’t. He caresses your cheek with the back of his hand before he prompts himself up to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“Toji, you know this isn’t something I can do.” You tell him as he looks lovingly into your eyes. “I’m here to help you get better.”

“You can help me get better by laying down next to me.” Toji responds. You grab the hand that so lovingly touches your cheek and kiss it, before bringing your lips down to meet his momentarily. He swears he hears fireworks when your lips meet, even after you pull away.

He’s most definitely in love with you.

“I’ll go get your crutches. Good night, Toji.”

[cherryxbooo]

I've got you ... always

Summary: Working as a Mercedes engineer has always been challenging, but with men constantly looking down on you, it becomes unbearable. Lewis is quick to put a stop to it, and fight for justice.

Note: First of all, I want to thank all of you for the love you've shown me so far. I really appreciate it! 🤍 The reason I chose this storyline is to address the issue of sexism and misogyny in workplaces. Unfortunately, this still happens far too often, and with this fic, I hope to bring much-needed attention to this subject. Just know you're not alone 🫶

Reader x Lewis Hamilton

Warning: misogyny and sexism

It had been nearly six years since I first joined Mercedes as an engineer.

Six years of intense work, late nights, early mornings, and a relentless pursuit of perfection in the world of Formula 1.

It was my dream job, one I had worked tirelessly to achieve.

But those six years also marked the time I’d spent with Lewis, six years of love, laughter, and challenges with the man who had become my everything.

I could still remember the day we met as if it were yesterday.

A bit of backstory:

I was the newest member of the Mercedes team, fresh out of a competitive hiring process, and I was determined to make an impression.

The first time I stepped into the paddock, I felt like an imposter among the sea of seasoned professionals.

My hands clutched my tablet like a lifeline as I walked into a strategy meeting, trying to suppress the nervous flutter in my chest.

Lewis was already there, sitting at the far end of the room. He looked relaxed, dressed casually in his signature streetwear style, yet exuding an unmistakable aura of confidence.

As I took a seat near the back, his eyes flicked toward me.

I was sure he wouldn’t even notice me, why would he?

I was just another new face among dozens of team members.

But then, he smiled.

It wasn’t one of those polite, obligatory smiles.

It was warm and genuine, as if he could sense my nerves and wanted to reassure me.

That smile was like a silent message:

You belong here.

Over the next few weeks, our paths crossed more frequently.

At first, it was just in passing, a quick hello in the garage, a casual “How’s it going?” during lunch breaks.

But it didn’t take long for us to start talking. Really talking.

It was during a particularly chaotic race weekend in Silverstone that our friendship began to solidify.

A last-minute weather change had thrown everyone into a frenzy, and I found myself staying late in the garage to run some last-minute simulations.

The paddock was nearly empty when Lewis walked in, still in his racing suit, and caught me muttering to myself as I tried to make sense of the data.

“Long night?” he asked, leaning against the workbench with a lopsided grin.

“You have no idea,” I replied with a tired laugh, glancing up from my screen.

He stayed and talked with me for over an hour, even offering a few insights that helped me crack the issue I was stuck on.

By the time he left, I realized that the nervousness I’d felt around him was gone.

He wasn’t just Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion.

He was kind, funny, and incredibly easy to talk to.

From that moment on, our friendship grew effortlessly.

Whether it was over post-race debriefs, team dinners, or stolen moments between the chaos of race weekends, we found ourselves drawn to each other.

We bonded over a shared love for what we did, but also over our differences, his world of high-speed fame and my quieter, behind-the-scenes role.

It wasn’t long before I realized my feelings for him had shifted.

I hadn’t planned on falling for him, but Lewis had a way of breaking down walls without even trying.

He made me laugh when I was stressed, listened intently when I rambled about work, and made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t experienced before.

One evening, after a long day at the factory, he invited me out for dinner.

It wasn’t anything fancy, just a cozy little restaurant tucked away.

Over plates of pasta and glasses of wine, we talked about everything from our childhoods to our dreams for the future.

By the end of the night, when he walked me to my car, he hesitated for just a moment before leaning in to kiss me.

That was the beginning of us.

For a long time, we kept our relationship private. We both wanted to protect what we had, to keep it ours without the scrutiny of the public eye.

But as the months turned into years, it became harder to hide.

Fans started noticing the subtle signs, the way Lewis would glance at me during interviews, or how I always seemed to be nearby during race weekends.

When we finally decided to go public, it wasn’t a grand announcement or a carefully curated statement.

It was a simple photo posted on Lewis’s Instagram.

We were in Monaco, sitting on a terrace overlooking the harbor, the golden light of sunset washing over us.

I didn’t even know he’d taken the picture until he showed it to me later that night.

“Should I post it?” he asked, his voice tentative.

I hesitated, thinking of the attention it would bring, but then I looked at him, at the way his eyes softened as he waited for my answer.

“Yeah,” I said with a smile. “Let’s do it.”

The response back then was overwhelming.

Fans flooded the comments with messages of support, and the media couldn’t stop speculating about us.

But through it all, Lewis and I stayed grounded, reminding each other that our relationship wasn’t for anyone else.

It was for us.

One of the things that made our relationship so strong was our ability to communicate.

From the very beginning, we had promised to tell each other everything, our fears, our frustrations, our dreams.

No topic was off-limits.

Whether it was a rough qualifying session for him or a challenging project for me, we leaned on each other without hesitation.

At least, that’s how it used to be.

Lately, I hadn’t been able to keep my promise to Lewis, to tell him everything, to lean on him like I always had.

The reason? Mark, Alan, and Greg.

They were three senior engineers on the team, men who had been with Mercedes long before I joined.

Older, more experienced, and as I had quickly discovered, painfully set in their ways.

From the very beginning, they had made it clear that they didn’t think I belonged.

I still remember the first time I overheard them.

It was during my second week on the job, and I was running a simulation late at night.

They didn’t realize I was in the corner of the garage, headphones off, sorting through notes.

“Hiring for diversity quotas,” Mark had muttered, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Yeah, they want to tick a box, so they bring in the fresh-faced rookie,” Alan had added with a chuckle.

Greg, ever the opportunist, chimed in,

“Let’s see how long she lasts when the pressure’s on.”

"She's better off making us a sandwich."

Their words had stung, sharp and bitter, but I had swallowed my pride.

I told myself that proving them wrong would be the best revenge.

I worked harder than I ever had in my life, triple-checking my calculations, volunteering for extra tasks, staying long hours to ensure that my work was flawless.

And for a while, I thought it had paid off.

At first, the snide remarks tapered off.

They didn’t engage with me much, but at least they stopped openly questioning my abilities.

I had even started to think that maybe, just maybe, I had earned their respect.

But lately, the comments had returned, and they were worse than ever.

It started subtly, dismissive sighs during meetings when I spoke, or whispered conversations that stopped the moment I entered the room.

Childish right?

Then the snark escalated, cutting through my carefully built confidence like a knife.

“Did you even double-check this?”

Alan had sneered last week after a team briefing, gesturing at the simulation results I’d spent days perfecting.

Greg, never one to miss a chance to pile on, smirked as he added,

“Leave the big decisions to people who actually know what they’re doing.”

Then Mark's voice was heard,

"Yeah, go do the laundry or something, whatever you women are good in."

It was always wrapped in the guise of banter, thinly veiled behind forced smiles and casual tones.

But I wasn’t naïve.

There was a sharpness to their words, a deliberate attempt to undermine me that cut deeper each time.

Even Mark, the one who usually played the “neutral” party, had started joining in.

During a debrief on a race strategy I’d helped design, he had scoffed and muttered,

“Well, I guess every team needs its token young genius.”

It was relentless.

Every day, there was something, a comment, a glance, a dismissive laugh that made my blood boil.

But I kept it all to myself.

I told myself that it wasn’t worth causing a scene, especially now.

Lewis had enough on his plate.

His move to Ferrari had been the talk of the motorsport world, and while he was excited for the new challenge, the transition was anything but easy.

There were endless negotiations, media commitments, and the emotional weight of leaving the team that had been his family for over a decade.

I couldn’t bring this to him, not now.

Not when he was already stretched thin.

So, I stayed quiet.

I bit my tongue when Alan questioned my calculations, ignored Greg’s condescending remarks, and pretended not to hear Mark’s muttered jokes.

Each time, I told myself it was just words, that I could handle it.

But deep down, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could.

Lewis was busy.

I kept telling myself that over and over, like a mantra.

Between announcing his move to Ferrari, dealing with the media frenzy, juggling sponsorship demands, and the seemingly endless meetings, he had so much on his plate.

The last thing he needed was me adding my problems to the mix.

But today was different.

The garage was buzzing with activity as we prepped for the upcoming race weekend.

The sound of drills, clinking tools, and the hum of engines filled the air, a symphony of chaos I had grown to love over the years.

I was stationed at my usual spot, hunched over a set of data sheets, meticulously double-checking the aerodynamics report for any inconsistencies.

I was deep in concentration, my pen scratching against the paper, when their voices drifted over.

Mark’s gruff tone was unmistakable.

“What’s the point of her even being here? Probably just a pretty face for the team photos.”

I froze, my hand pausing mid-note.

My heart sank, but I willed myself to stay calm, telling myself to ignore it like always.

Alan, never one to pass up an opportunity, snorted.

“Yeah, but even that’s debatable.”

Their laughter was casual, almost conversational, but the sting of their words hit me like a whip.

Then Greg joined in, his tone dripping with mockery.

“She’s only here because she’s shagging the driver or maybe even the boss. Imagine thinking she got this job on her own merit.”

Mark laughed before adding,

"Maybe we can all ask her for a turn as well, if it's that easy to shag the boss, we might have a chance too."

"At the end of the day, that's all they're good at. Women don't belong in the motorsport world."

The room was filled with their laughter.

That was it.

My pen slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the table as my hands began to shake.

I stared at the numbers on the page, but they were a blur, overshadowed by the burning heat of humiliation rising in my chest.

For years, I had endured their passive-aggressive comments, their dismissive attitudes, their constant undermining of my capabilities.

I had told myself it didn’t matter, that their opinions didn’t define me.

But hearing them reduce everything I had worked for, the late nights, the sweat, the tears, the sacrifices, to nothing more than being Lewis Hamilton’s girlfriend?

It was too much.

I clenched my fists under the table, my nails digging into my palms as I tried to hold it together.

But their laughter, light and cruel, echoed in my ears, shredding the last of my composure.

I pushed back my chair abruptly, the screech of metal against the concrete floor silencing the room for a brief moment.

My vision blurred with unshed tears as I grabbed my tablet and notes, clutching them to my chest like armor.

I didn’t dare look at them, I couldn’t.

My breath hitched, and my chest felt tight, like the walls were closing in.

I needed to get out. Now.

Without a word, I turned and stormed out of the garage, my footsteps heavy and uneven.

I didn’t care where I was going; I just needed space, air, something to stop the lump in my throat from turning into a sob.

As I walked away, their laughter faded into the background, but the words lingered, etched into my mind like a scar.

I didn’t know where I was going.

My feet carried me blindly, weaving through the maze of garages and team trailers until I found myself at the paddock’s edge.

It was quieter here, away from the relentless hum of activity, the chatter of crew members, and the ever-present cameras.

I sank onto a bench beneath the shade of a tree, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.

Burying my face in my hands, I let out a shaky sigh.

My mind replayed their words like a broken record, each snide comment cutting deeper than the last.

"What’s the point of her being here?"

"Probably just a pretty face for the team photos."

"She’s only here because she’s shagging the driver."

The worst part was that they’d managed to plant a seed of doubt.

I had worked so hard to get here, put in countless hours, and sacrificed so much to prove myself in this male-dominated field.

And yet, in this moment, I felt like a fraud, like I didn’t belong.

“Y/n?”

The sound of Lewis’s voice cut through the fog in my mind.

I looked up sharply, my breath catching when I saw him standing a few feet away, his brow furrowed in concern.

He must have followed me.

My stomach twisted in a mix of guilt and relief.

The last thing I wanted was for him to see me like this, vulnerable, crumbling under the weight of my emotions.

“What’s wrong my love?” he asked, stepping closer and crouching down in front of me.

His warm, dark eyes searched mine, his hands gently resting on my knees.

The concern etched into his face made my heart ache.

“Nothing,” I lied, quickly wiping at my face.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, his expression soft but skeptical.

“Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out.”

I hesitated, my resolve cracking under his steady gaze.

His presence was grounding, but I didn’t want to pull him into my mess.

“It’s nothing, really,” I tried again, forcing a weak smile.

“I just… I’m tired.”

“Y/n.”

His voice was low and firm, but there was a tenderness to it that made my throat tighten.

“Please. Talk to me.”

That was all it took.

The dam broke, and the words spilled out in a rush.

I told him everything, the comments, the dismissive attitudes, the years of enduring their quiet but cutting condescension.

My voice wavered as I explained how it had worsened recently, how their snide remarks had crossed the line into outright insults.

“I didn’t want to tell you,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You’ve been under so much pressure with everything, Ferrari, the media, the season. I didn’t want to be another problem for you to deal with.”

Lewis listened intently, his face unreadable as I spoke.

But the slight tightening of his jaw and the way his hands gripped mine told me he was anything but indifferent.

When I finished, there was a long silence.

I stared down at my hands, afraid to meet his eyes.

“They’ve been doing this for years?”

he finally asked, his voice low and tightly controlled.

I nodded, biting my lip. “It wasn’t always this bad, but yeah.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want to add to your stress,” I said softly.

“You’ve been dealing with so much already.”

Lewis let out a slow, measured breath, his grip on my hands tightening.

“Y/n, nothing, and I mean nothing, is more important to me than you.”

His voice softened, but there was a fierce protectiveness beneath his words.

“You should’ve told me. They don’t get to treat you like this. Ever. No woman deserves this kind of treatment.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Lewis was already standing.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, his expression dark with determination.

“Lewis, what are you doing?” I asked, standing as well.

He glanced at me, his jaw set.

“I’m making sure this doesn’t happen again.”

I reached out, touching his arm.

“Lewis, please-”

“Y/n.” He turned to face me fully, his eyes locking onto mine.

“You’ve put up with this for far too long. I’m not letting it slide, and neither should you. This is your workplace, your passion. You shouldn’t have to deal with people who try to tear you down.”

His words hit me hard, a mix of anger and love wrapped in every syllable.

I nodded slowly, my throat tight with emotion.

“Good,” he said, his voice softening as he pulled me into a hug.

His arms wrapped around me tightly, and for a moment, I let myself melt into his warmth.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into my hair. “Always.”

By mid-afternoon, the entire paddock was filled with noice.

Meetings with Toto were rarely casual, and the tension in the air was palpable.

I stayed out of sight, nerves twisting in my stomach.

When Lewis had assured me earlier that he wouldn’t let this go, I’d believed him.

But seeing the immediate repercussions unfold was a different kind of catharsis.

The walk to Toto’s office felt longer than it should have, every step heavy with anticipation.

Lewis had his hand firmly on the small of my back, guiding me through the bustling paddock.

His touch was grounding, but my nerves still prickled under my skin.

“Relax,” he said softly, leaning closer.

“We’re handling this together.”

I nodded, though my stomach was a tangled mess of knots.

The last thing I wanted was to cause drama, but after years of enduring Mark, Alan, and Greg’s behavior, I couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

When we arrived at Toto’s office, Lewis didn’t bother knocking lightly.

He rapped his knuckles on the door with purpose.

“Come in,” came the familiar voice from inside.

Toto was seated behind his desk, a stack of papers neatly arranged to one side.

His brows lifted in mild surprise when he saw the two of us enter together, but he quickly gestured for us to take a seat.

“This seems serious,” Toto remarked, his sharp eyes flicking between us.

"What’s going on?”

Lewis glanced at me, silently asking if I wanted to start.

I hesitated, my fingers twisting in my lap.

Noticing my reluctance, Lewis leaned forward.

“It’s about some of the team dynamics,” he began, his voice calm but tinged with an unmistakable edge.

“Specifically, the way Mark, Alan, and Greg have been treating Y/n.”

Toto’s expression shifted, his posture straightening.

“Go on.”

I took a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak.

“For years now, they’ve made comments, snide remarks about my qualifications, my presence here. It started when I joined, but I brushed it off because I was new, and I thought I had to prove myself. But lately…”

My voice wavered, and I swallowed hard to steady it.

“Lately, it’s escalated. They’ve been openly dismissive of my work, undermining me during meetings, and even questioning my position on the team. Today, they went too far.”

Toto’s jaw tightened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

“What happened today?”

Lewis’s hand found mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze as I recounted the incident.

“They implied I’m only here because I’m dating Lewis and that I used my body to get my position,”

I said quietly, the words tasting bitter in my mouth.

“And that I didn’t earn my role.”

Toto exhaled sharply, his expression darkening.

“That’s not all,” Lewis added, his tone hardening.

“This has been going on for years, Toto. Years. Y/n didn’t tell me sooner because she didn’t want to cause problems, but that’s no excuse. Those three have created a toxic environment, and it stops now.”

Toto’s gaze shifted to me, his stern demeanor softening slightly.

“Why didn’t you come to me earlier, Y/L/N? This isn’t the kind of behavior we tolerate here.”

I shrugged, feeling small under his scrutiny.

“I didn’t want to be seen as a troublemaker. They’ve been here longer than I have, and I didn’t think anyone would take my word over theirs. Plus, I didn’t want to add more stress to an already intense environment.”

Toto shook his head, his voice firm but understanding.

“You should never have to tolerate that. Not here, not anywhere. The Mercedes team prides itself on being a family. What you’ve described is unacceptable, and I take full responsibility for not noticing it sooner.”

Lewis leaned back in his chair, his jaw still tight.

“What’s the plan, Toto? Because I’m not letting this slide.”

Toto nodded, already making notes on a pad in front of him.

“First, I’ll be speaking to Mark, Alan, and Greg individually. They’ll be given the chance to explain themselves, not that there’s much room for justification here. If their behavior aligns with what you’ve described, they won’t be part of this team by the end of the day.”

A weight lifted off my chest at his words, but the tension in the room remained palpable.

“I want to be there,” Lewis said firmly.

Toto raised an eyebrow.

“Lewis-”

“No,” Lewis interrupted.

“This is personal. They didn’t just disrespect Y/n, they disrespected the team, the values we stand for, and me by extension. I need to make it clear that this behavior won’t be tolerated. From anyone.”

Toto regarded him for a moment before nodding.

“Fine. But let me handle the disciplinary side. You can say your piece, but I’ll deliver the consequences.”

Lewis nodded, satisfied.

“That works for me.”

Toto turned back to me, his expression softening once more.

“Y/n, I’m sorry you’ve had to endure this. If there’s anything else you need, support, time off, anything, let me know. I’ll make sure you feel safe and valued here.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, my voice thick with emotion.

Lewis stood, pulling me up with him.

“We appreciate it, Toto. Let us know when the meeting is.”

“You’ll hear from me shortly,”

Toto promised, standing to shake Lewis’s hand before giving me a reassuring nod.

As we left the office, I felt a sense of relief wash over me.

For the first time in years, I didn’t feel alone in this fight.

Lewis wrapped an arm around my shoulders as we walked down the corridor.

“We’ve got this,” he said softly, his voice full of conviction.

I leaned into him, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“Yeah, we do.”

Toto wasn’t one to waste time.

Within the hour, Mark, Alan, and Greg were called into his office one by one.

The first to arrive was Mark.

When he stepped in, he wore his usual smug expression, likely thinking this was just another routine meeting.

But Toto’s steely gaze and the presence of Lewis, standing tall with his arms crossed by the window, quickly shattered that notion.

“Have a seat, Mark,”

Toto said curtly, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.

Mark sat, shifting uncomfortably as he glanced between Toto and Lewis.

“What’s this about?”

Toto wasted no time.

“It’s about your behavior toward Y/L/N,” he said, his voice sharp and unwavering.

“I’ve been informed of your repeated condescension, disrespect, and comments that have no place in this team, or any professional setting.”

Mark blinked, caught off guard.

“What? That’s not true. I-”

“Don’t bother lying,” Lewis cut in, his voice cold and firm.

He stepped closer, his dark eyes fixed on Mark.

“We’ve both heard enough from Y/n and other team members. You’ve been targeting her for years, haven’t you? Questioning her qualifications, making snide remarks about her role here, and today, outright implying she only got her position because of me.”

Mark’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

“I… Look, it was just banter. No harm meant.”

“Banter?” Toto echoed, his tone dripping with disbelief.

“You call undermining one of the most talented engineers on this team banter? You call questioning her abilities and belittling her contributions banter?”

Mark leaned forward, desperation creeping into his voice.

“Toto, I didn’t mean anything by it! I was just-”

“Enough,” Toto interrupted, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.

“I won’t tolerate excuses. You’ve created a hostile environment for one of your colleagues, and that is unacceptable. You’ve not only disrespected Y/L/N but also the principles this team stands for. I don’t care how long you’ve been here, Mark. Your behavior is grounds for immediate dismissal.”

Mark paled, his smugness vanishing entirely.

“Dismissal? Wait, Toto, please. I’ve been with this team for years. You can’t just-”

“I can, and I will,” Toto said, his voice resolute.

“Pack your things. Security will escort you out by the end of the day.”

Mark turned to Lewis, desperation in his eyes.

“Lewis, you can’t agree with this. We’re teammates, for God’s sake!”

Lewis’s expression didn’t waver.

“You stopped being my teammate the moment you disrespected Y/n. Pack your things, Mark.”

Mark’s shoulders slumped, and he left the office in silence.

Next was Alan.

He walked in with a similar air of confidence, though it quickly dissipated when he noticed the tense atmosphere.

“Toto,” Alan began, sitting down and glancing uneasily at Lewis.

“What’s going on?”

Toto leaned forward, his hands clasped on the desk.

“What’s going on, Alan, is that your behavior toward Y/L/N has come to light. Years of dismissive comments, snide remarks, and today, a blatant attack on her credibility. Care to explain yourself?”

Alan frowned, leaning back in his chair.

“Look, I might’ve been a little hard on her, but it’s nothing personal. She’s young and still learning. I thought she could use a bit of tough love.”

Lewis scoffed from his spot by the window.

“Tough love? Is that what you call undermining her at every turn and insulting her in front of the team?”

Alan shifted uncomfortably.

“She’s good at her job, I’ll give her that. But come on, Lewis, you can’t deny people have wondered if her connection to you played a part in her being hired. It’s not like I said anything everyone wasn’t already thinking.”

Lewis took a step forward, his fists clenching at his sides.

“The only reason anyone would think that is because people like you spread that garbage around."

"Y/n earned her place on this team through her hard work and talent, not because of me."

We didn't even know each other when she joined. And even if, she didn’t have to prove anything to anyone, the way you’ve treated her is disgusting.”

Toto’s expression darkened further.

“Alan, you’ve been with Mercedes long enough to know we value respect and inclusivity above all else. What you’ve done isn’t just a breach of trust, it’s a breach of the very foundation of this team. Your actions have consequences. You’re fired, effective immediately.”

Alan stood abruptly, his face red with anger.

“You’re seriously going to throw away years of experience over a few jokes?”

“Yes,” Toto said bluntly.

“And I suggest you leave now before you embarrass yourself further.”

Alan glared at both of them before storming out, muttering under his breath.

Finally, it was Greg’s turn.

Unlike the others, Greg walked in looking visibly nervous.

He barely met Toto’s eyes as he sat down, fidgeting with his hands.

“Greg,” Toto began, his voice steady but firm.

“You know why you’re here.”

Greg nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah… yeah, I figured.”

“Then you know the kind of behavior we’re addressing,” Toto continued.

“You’ve contributed to a toxic work environment for Y/L/N and others. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Greg hesitated, glancing at Lewis, who was staring at him with barely concealed anger.

“I- I don’t have an excuse. I guess… I thought it was harmless, but it clearly wasn’t. I crossed a line, and I’m sorry.”

Toto’s brow furrowed.

“You thought it was harmless? You’ve made Y/n feel unwelcome and disrespected in her own workplace. That’s not harmless, it’s damaging. Apologizing now doesn’t erase what you’ve done.”

“I know,” Greg said quickly, his voice trembling.

“I know I messed up, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.”

“It’s too late for that,” Lewis interjected, his voice low but full of authority.

“You had years to change your behavior, and you didn’t. You don’t get to stay on this team after what you’ve done.”

Toto nodded in agreement.

“Greg, I appreciate that you’re taking responsibility, but the damage has been done. You’re no longer part of this team. Security will escort you out shortly.”

Greg’s shoulders sagged, and he nodded, standing to leave.

“My deepest apologies,” he said quietly before walking out.

By the end of the day, the three men were gone, and the Mercedes team felt lighter.

Word of the firings spread quickly, and several team members quietly expressed their relief and support for you.

Back in the garage, Lewis pulled me into a quiet corner.

“It’s done,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

I nodded, a weight lifting off my chest.

“Thank you, Lew. For standing by me.”

“Always sweetheart,” he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“No one messes with my girl.”

To all the women facing sexism at work, school, home or online: You are strong, capable, and deserving of respect. Don’t let anyone diminish your worth. Your voice matters, and you are making a difference just by being you. Keep pushing forward.

The end

[twddixonn]

Good Boy

Daryl Dixon x Reader one shot

Warnings/Tags: not proof read!!!, sfw, some swears, shane.

this is my first fic on this account, my first time attempting to write a fic in 4-ish years and my first time trying to write a twd fic. honestly it’s probably not great but I hope it’s at least somewhat decent. :-)

(also written and posted mobile so not sure how it will appear on browser, hopefully not too terrible!)

“Leave me the hell alone.” You harshly whispered, turning on your heels and storming away from the scene in front of you.

Your best friend reuniting with his wife and son. Alive. Not dead. This whole time he had you believing that Rick was dead and gone, never coming back. Yet your eyes were seeing a whole different story to the one Shane painted out for you a couple months prior.

Shane followed pursuit, ignoring the former comment you had made and put a firm hold on your wrist before pulling you behind Dales RV to conceal you from the others.

“Hey, hey . I swear to you Y/N, he was dead when I left that hospital room. He wasn’t breathing. Th- the monitors, they all stopped. Everything went dead. He was dead.” Shane iterated, time and time again.

You feel the anger bubbling up inside you, just like all those other times when Shane had told you Rick was dead and to get it through your head he isn’t coming back. Your hands curled into fists, your nails stabbing into your palm leaving crescent shaped indents.

“Except he wasn’t. Is this why you didn’t want me to go there? Didn’t want Lori to go there? Because you knew if you swooped in and saved her and Carl when Rick couldn’t that what- she’d become your damsel in distress? Is this why? Just so you could get your leg over and fuck your partners wife and become Carls daddy? You’re pathetic Shane.” At this point your head was swarming with thoughts and ideas of what you wanted to do to Shane but better judgement got the best of you.

You began to walk off when a hand reached for you again, this time rougher. Shane pushed you against the RV, his brows furrowed and sweat dripping off his temples- smoke nearly coming out of his ears at this point.

“I don’t know what you think you know but you’re wrong either way. I think you’re forgetting that I didn’t just save Lori and Carl, I saved your sorry ass too. I didn’t have to. That was on me Y/N, That was on me. An’ I ain’t ever looked at Lori like that before, she was Ricks wife and he was my best friend. It happened because I thought he was dead.” He all but growled at you in a hushed whisper.

You remained quiet and stoic for a few moments, registering your thoughts before smirking slightly and speaking again. Pushing Shane’s hand off of you, you began to walk away but not before turning and giving one last snide remark, “I think I know right. And, by the way.. really interesting use of the past tense in those last few sentences there.”

Dickhead.

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“I’ve been here for quite a few hours now and yet, still no hello?” You looked beside you to see Rick crouched with a smile on his face, placing an arm around your shoulder which you leaned into graciously.

“Sorry Grimes.. just- a lot to take in y’no.” You said.

“Na’ I get it. Shane told me what happened.” Rick remarked whilst kissing his teeth and shaking his head.

“He did? Really? What did he say?.”

To say you were shocked was an understatement, Shane had really gone out of his way to-

“Yeah.” He breathed out, “Told me how it started, he tried to get me from the hospital but I wasn’t breathing and he thought I was dead. How he saved you and Lori n’ Carl and got you all here.”

“He told you that huh.” You should have known.

Rick started to stand back up, giving you a pat on the back and a kiss to the forehead first “I’m gonna go get some shut eye, you need too aswell. Talk more in the morning Y/N.” Rick turned to walk back towards camp, not before turning and speaking again, “Y/N.. go nice on Shane though ok? He’s a good guy, you just gotta give him a chance.”

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You wake up the next day to the sound of what you thought was - for once - peace and quiet. Until you hear the shouts outside and a woman screaming stop.

Debating between laying back down and just going back to sleep or getting up and out of your tent to see what was going on, you went with the better judgement and begrudgingly dragged yourself to get changed and step outside.

Shielding your eyes from the rays of light beaming off the Atlanta sun with a sigh escaping your lips at the slight breeze that hit your clammy skin.

“You’d best let me go!”- what the fuck was happening this time?

Walking closer you take sight of Shane with his arms wrapped around Daryl’s neck. A fuckin’ cop getting someone in a choke hold the minute they raise their voice? New worlds maybe not as different from before.

“I’d like to have a calm discussion on this topic, you think we can manage that?” Rick spoke calmly whilst he crouched in front of Daryl, his chest heaving with rocky breaths as Shane’s tight grip didn’t let up just yet.

“You think we can manage that?” Rick repeated.

You zoned out at this point, eyes boring into the side of Shane’s skull with anger.

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“I’m coming.” You didn’t hesitate to jump at the opportunity to get away from camp for a while. The rising tension taking over was beginning to grate at you.

“That’s five”

Shane piped up “It’s not just five, you’re putting every single one of us at risk.” “Just know that Rick”

“Come on man you saw that walker. It was here.

It was in camp.

They’re moving out of the cities.

They come back, we need every able body we’ve got.

We need em here, we need em to protect camp.”

Staying focused when Shane’s voice is droning on for what seems like eternity is quite the mission lately. Listening to him is beginning to seem like nails on a chalkboard.

“-Shane is right. Merle Dixon? He’s not worth one of your lives, even with guns thrown in.”

Hearing Loris voice made you gain attention again.

“If someone left Rick behind-“ you began to join the conversation, maybe with the words aimed at Shane slightly. He clearly picked up on it as his eyes shot to you, if looks could only kill, you’d be six feet under.

“Would you want them to go back for him? Or would you let him stay handcuffed to a roof to die slowly?” Your eyes landing on Lori.

“That’s different. Rick.. he.. he isn’t like Merle. He wouldn’t get himself into that position in the first place.” The stern mom tone coming out as Lori tried to keep her composure and not snap in front of Carl.

“You think Merle purposely got himself into that position? He’s an asshole yeah, and he may have deserved it. But he didn’t expect to be handcuffed and then left behind. Not knowing if anyone was going to go back for him. It may have been an accident. But he shouldn’t have to sit there wondering if he’s just going to die from thirst and hunger or if he’s going to get torn to pieces at the hands of walkers. He may not be your family, but he’s someone’s family. You have your husband, your son. You have Shane. Merle is all Daryl has.” You’re not sure if you were even breathing during that, your chest rising up and down at a rapid speed. You felt rage. How could anyone justify this bullshit?

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Sitting in the back of the van was a bit more awkward than you anticipated. Glenn and Rick up front. You, Daryl and T-dog in the back. Maybe the tension in the back of this van was worse than the tension at camp?

You looked up smiling at T-dog as he avoided Daryl’s intense stare, before he got up and headed to the front to talk to Glenn and Rick.

Daryl kept shooting you glances whenever he thought you couldn’t see, a grunt leaving his mouth every so often as if he was about to talk but decided against it.

Just as you looked up at him, he was already staring with his mouth open yet no words seemed to come so he just scoffed and averted his eyes anywhere but at you.

You began to grow a bit frustrated at him. “What?”

“Nothin’” he all but murmured.

“Stop grunting and scoffing at me like a dog who didn’t get enough treats, be a good boy and just say whatever it is you’ve been wanting to say for the last 15 minutes.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at yourself.

You could have sworn you saw a light tinge of pink cross his cheeks before his head dropped down facing his lap.

His mouth opened and closed, before opening once again “Why’d ya stick up for me.. for Merle back at tha’ camp?”

Oh. That’s what this was about? The intense looks he gave you before this made you think it was about anything but this.

“What do you mean?” You had to admit you were somewhat confused at this.

“Ya said it y’self, Merle, he’s an asshole. So why’d ya go out of ya way to defend him? Why didn’t ya just side with the others and leave him?” Head dropping once again as his thumb found its way to his lips as he gnawed on the nail.

Silence.

You were stuck for words. “He is an asshole. Maybe one of the biggest assholes I’ve ever known. But he’s your brother, maybe not the greatest one but still your brother no matter what. He’s all you have left. The others may not understand, but I do.” Taking a deep breath in and thinking about your next words carefully, “I honestly couldn’t give a shit about him. Doesn’t mean I want him to suffer up there on that roof. No one deserves it. Well I mean maybe some people y’no? Really bad people. And maybe Shane. Merle, he’s not necessarily one of those really bad people. He makes mistakes, says things he definitely shouldn’t and has actions that match, but don’t we all in one way or another?”

Daryl was slightly overwhelmed. Not expecting you to be so honest and caring? Somewhat caring anyway. He didn’t know what to say.

You hummed and tapped your fingers against your legs, “Nothing to say?”

“I dunno what you want me to say.”

A grin made its way to your face.

“How about a thanks?”

“Thanks.” He grumbled trying not to scoff afterwards to avoid being called a dog again.

The van began to come to a stop, Glenn saying something about walking from here.

You stood up whilst stretching your arms above your head.

“That’ll do. Good boy.”

You smirked at him before opening the back of the van and climbing out. Leaving a blushing Daryl in the back trying to hide his face as he groaned standing up.

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authors note: it’s not the greatest, I am very aware. but I really wanna get back into writing in general and I thought starting with twd would be the best place to start as it’s one of my comfort shows. there’s not much happening, it’s very heavily based on s1 e3 obviously but it’s mostly just to try and get back in the swing of things! if you have an constructive feedback or any comments you’d like to make, please feel free as it will be much appreciated :-) I’m hoping to improve my writing skills more and more. It will probably take a while (I’ve literally had the first half of this thing in my notes app since June 2024) but I hope to get to the point of making some good fics! thank you for reading if you managed to make it this far!:)