cl0v3r-b1tch

Latest Posts by cl0v3r-b1tch

take a chance on me | charlie dalton x fem!reader

summary: charlie dalton is obsessed with you and he mans up to ask you out on a date. you are secretly in love with him, but you can tell his intentions almost immediately.

pairings: charlie dalton x fem!reader

word count: 0.5k

warnings: none, but welton is a boys and girls school.

n/a: i was really looking forward to write something with charlie, and i am so excited for this one. i really hope you enjoy it. feel free to request anything! as always, english is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes, sorry in advance x

masterlist :)

"i'm gonna ask her out", charlie repeated for the thousandth time, staring at you from the other side of the common room.

"yeah, right.", knox teased him. "you always say the same thing but you never really do it."

"and also, what if y/n doesn't like you back?", wondered neil.

but charlie's ego was too big to break like that. and also, he had noticed how your eyes fixated on him when he wasn't looking, so, at least, you were interested in him.

"you can mock me all that you want, but i am going to do it.", charlie said, as he stood up. the rest of his friends stared at him in disbelief, with their mouths open.

you saw him approaching your group of friends and returned your sight to your latin homework, playing dumb. you knew your friends couldn't tell, but your heart rate was alarmingly fast as charlie was closer.

"hey, girls", he greeted you and your friends. "do you mind if i steal y/n from you one sec?"

you knew charlie wasn't asking for permission, he hardly ever did, so you stood up, closing your notebook. "what is it, charlie?"

"just a thing i wanted to ask you. come with me?"

you followed him to the corridor, which was empty, and waited for him to start talking. you and charlie weren't exactly friends, but you liked him. he was funny, and smart, and didn't have any problems to cause some trouble in school. he was also devastatingly charming, and every single girl in school would agree on that.

"so...", he started. "how was your day?"

"did you actually dragged me out of the common room to ask me about my day?", you laughed.

charlie fidgeted with the collar of his school shirt. "actually i wanted to ask you something."

"ask away, i'm not gonna bite you.", you said, jokingly.

"i was wondering if you had any plans this friday evening.", charlie said, and you flustered to your ears. your cheeks were so warm you even wondered if it was possible to be that red.

don't be an idiot, y/n. come on, woman up, you thought.

"um, no. i don't think so. why?"

"would you like to go out? like, with me?", he asked, and you could tell that he was blushing too. it was a rare sight to see charlie dalton blushing, but it was a very cute one.

"sure, yeah.", you replied, your hands trembling. you couldn't believe that. "anything planned?"

"i thought we could go to the cinema? if you're up to it."

"yeah. i love the movies.", a weird silence formed between the two of you, both too happy to say anything. then, you cleared your throat. "so, friday, 6pm?"

"perfect. i'll pick you up on your dorm."

you nodded, going back into the common room. a few moments later, charlie entered too, sitting with his friends. you could see his face between todd's and meeks' shoulders. he noticed you staring and winked at you. you lowered your head back to your homework.

and friday couldn't come fast enough.

charlie texting reader 😭

Stand By Me

pairing: Charlie Dalton x reader

summary: Charlie’s parents don’t like that their son is getting married to you.

word count: 0.7k words (sorry this is shorter than I wanted)

angst, fiancée-fiancé trope, dramaturge reader

a/n: Hi!! It’s been such a long time since I’ve written anything and this took a lot of time to write, so sorry!! Based on a request by @ora-rose. This kinda goes with the song Stand By Me by Oasis (check it out at the end). Anyway I hope you’ll like this!

Masterlist

—

The atmosphere at Charlie’s parent’s house was tense, especially since you had announced your engagement. Let’s say that their reaction wasn’t exactly what you wanted.

“Wow, how... great. A bit unexpected, but...” Charlie’s mother had said, trying and failing to sound happy.

“Well, we’ve been together for three years, I thought you might’ve seen that coming.” Charlie replied, his hand tightening around yours under the table.

“Yeah, this might come as a surprise, but we love each other, we thought this through, and we think it’s time.” you softly said, forcing a small smile.

Charlie’s parents looked at each other, clearly disappointed. They didn’t hate you, but your job was really what posed a problem. You were a playwright, and they didn’t approve their son’s choice in financial terms. But he didn’t care. After this, you stood up and eclipsed to the bedroom, overwhelmed by the complicated situation, followed by Charlie.

—

And since that day, it was a living hell. You forced small talk with them, and with Charlie it was even harder.

“Charlie... I don’t wanna be the reason you and your parents have problems.” I said in the middle of an argument, sitting at the edge of our bed in the guest room.

“I know you don’t, but I don’t care if I have problems with them. I don’t wanna have problems with you.” he answered. He felt like it was the hundredth time he said this.

—

Two days after the announcement, Charlie woke up in an empty bed. He went in the kitchen. The bathroom. The backyard. You weren’t there. Indeed, when he went back in the bedroom, your suitcase was gone.

He had called friends in the neighborhood, cafés, hotels, everything. The worst part is that his parents didn’t seem to care much.

“Maybe you have to let her go, son.” His father said, tapping his shoulder empathically, as Charlie was sitting at the table, the phone and a list of numbers in front of him.

But Charlie wouldn’t take it. Especially when, late in the evening, a hotel he had called earlier gave the information that there was indeed, a Y/N residing in a room.

—

You were sitting beside the window, looking flatly outside, at the black, starry sky, while playing with your engagement ring, when someone knocked on the door.

“Y/N? It’s Charlie, open up, please.” A desperate voice said.

You sighed heavily, wiping your tears away. You knew it was no use to resist and stay here, especially with how stubborn Charlie was. You opened the door, and just sat back to your seat.

He swiftly stepped towards you.

“Why would you leave, baby?”

You sighed again. “Charlie... You know why. I don’t wanna be a problem. I don’t wanna be the reason you have to choose between your parents and me.”

He crouched down at your level in front of you, taking your hand, searching your gaze.

“But if I have to make a choice it’ll be you, Y/N. I cannot lose you.”

You felt a pang of guilt in you, seeing how sad his hazel eyes were.

“But...” You hesitantly started.

“No. I love you, and I’d choose you everyday. I’ve let people go too easily, like Neil. And I– I can’t make the same mistake again. Please.”

You finally met his gaze, your vision blurry with forming tears. You looked down at your ring and back at him.

“You mean more to me than they ever will.” He assured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your hand in his finally gave a sign of life, squeezing slightly Charlie’s.

“If that’s your choice...”

“It is.”

“Then I’ll stand by you.”

He smiled softly, wiped your tears with his thumbs and pulled you in a tight embrace, buring his face in your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo.

“You scared the hell outta me.” He mumbled.

“M’sorry...”

“It’s alright. It’s gonna be alright.”

And it was. Even if his parents wouldn’t accept you, you stood by him. Forever.

—

Like I said in a/n, this fic kinda goes with this song!! It’s an amazing song, you can listen to it!! (this is my music tastes propaganda)

you can hear it in the silence

p.s i'm back!!! i have much more free time now and i wanted to post my writing again i missed it so so so much and i hope you enjoy ♡

photos from Pinterest

When Charlie dalton first laid eyes on you, the world didn’t stop moving around him, his heart didn’t skip a beat and his breath wasn’t caught in his lungs.

it was like his gut was punched, in the best possible way.

He stood at the entrance, caught for a moment, watching you from across the library. You were sitting by the windows, sunlight curling around you like a halo, and for some reason, that ordinary moment hit him harder than it should’ve.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak, forgetting every clever line he’d ever used on anyone else.

For once, Charlie dalton -all words, all charm, all grins and rebellion- was silent.

and somehow, you looked up, like you could hear it. Like you could feel it too, that quiet pull between two people on the edge of something neither fully grasped.

Then you smiled at him...and his heart did something utterly, stupidly foolish.

© 2025 thbolters. i do not give anyone permission to translate, repost or edit my work in any way.

dps boys & spending a day at the lake with them

summary ; what it would be like to spend a day at the lake with each of the poets

words ; 900

a/n ; just graduated and finally have time to write again, so I hope you enoy this little summer-themed thing! (w my favorite grump richard)

richard cameron he would make sure you put on sunscreen and drink enough water. he doesn't want you to be dehydrated, especially on such a hot day. deff judges the people whose skin is already burnt to a crisp. "you see that guy over there? he looks like a crab" "richard!" "what? it's true! I just don't get the people who don't put on sunscreen. it's like... do you want to look like that?" he teaches you how to skip rocks and braids your hair so it doesn't get tangled in the water. when you want to go for a swim, he's reading the newspaper, fixated on that one article talking about that new playground being built in your neighborhood and you literally have to snap him out of his trance and beg him to go in the water with you. eventually, he does go with you but you literally have to pry that article from his hands.

"do you realize they're going to build it right next to our house?"

to be fair, out of all the guys he'd be the first one to notice your new bikini and compliment you on it.

before you leave, he will be adamant on making sure you didn't leave any trash behind and that your spot is clean. if there's any other trash or stumped out cigarettes around you, he will pick everything up and complain about the ignorant people destroying the environment (while shaking his head like a disappointed dad). gerard pitts he's so excited when you get to the lake!! would spend hours in the water with you, just playing around, diving and watching the fish, snorkeling or playing with a ball. the two of you would collect seashells and pretty stones. you would also totally do the trend where you take pearls / stones similar to the other's eye color to make a bracelet out of it. also, if you ask, he'd totally be down to build a sand castle. makes it really detailed too and builds up a whole story behind the knight & princess living in it. he even finds two seashells to represent them and is like "look, babe, it's us!" charlie dalton he's ready to have fun!! he races you to the water and throws you into the waves. also will literally play mermaids with you no questions asked. probably gets sunburnt pretty fast because he forgot to put on sunscreen (and yes he will complain about it the entire week). after he's already spent hours in the sun, he will ask you to put sunscreen on his back with the biggest, proudest smile ever, thinking he's slick.

also, charlie is literally like that one instagram trend where the guy is like "waiting for my girlfriend to finish putting on my sunscreen so I can go play pirates in the water" or something like that lol knox overstreet this man has to keep his tan up! it's not a skin color it's a lifestyle bryan! (who got that reference??) no seriously, he's the type to lay down on the beach and tan rather than spend hours in the water. he will take the occasional dip though and complain that the water's too cold. I can also see y'all being one of those yoga couples at the beach who do those weird couple positions (I'M SORRY BUT I CAN TOTALLY SEE THAT WITH HIM LMAO) steven meeks bro he literally geeks out over the algae at the beach cause he recently read about it!! he holds a piece up to your face and says: "here babe, try, this one's edible" and you're like: "stevie, that literally looks like regurgitated grass"

"what? no it does not! come on, try just a little bit! it's really good, I promise"

"no!"

"come on, yn!", he begs, laughing and wiggling the algae in front of your face. he definitely chases you around the beach with it. the two of you do crossword puzzles and play uno, in which both of you get weirdly competitive. you'd lay down the +4 card and he'd be gasping and clutching his chest like you'd just brutally wounded him.

"do you not love me anymore?"

"just take the four cards and shut up"

it's all in good fun though. and yes, of course he gets sunburn. he's ginger, what did you expect? plus he doesn't put on 10 layers of sunscreen like cameron, so yes, he burns. shrugs it off tho. he also brings his radio and you guys just listen to music. todd anderson with him it's a pretty chill day, just reading, enjoying nature. you watch clouds together, cuddling. he'd also want to explore the area a little, like taking a look at the forest that's nearby or getting ice cream. he also takes his camera with him, taking loads of cute pictures of you. definitely frames them and puts them up in his office. neil perry if you're both actors you're taking your scripts with you to practice along with looaads of snacks! he's also soo extroverted at the beach, like he's asking random strangers if they wanna play volleyball with you or if you're missing an extra person for the script if they wanna practice with you. so you're just sitting on your picnic blanket, making friends with some random person rehearsing lines with you. your boyfriend's just sociable like that! but if you'd want it to be just the two of you, he'd also respect that! he's like charlie, playful and just wanting to have fun with you!

headcannons on how the dead poets comfort you

pairing: dps boys x gn!reader

genre: comfort, pure fluff tho, could be read as romantic or platonic

word count: 1.2k

content warnings: none, only its lowercase intended and the reader is kind of at welton 25/8 so you could imagine that welton is a co-ed school (depending on your gender) or that you’re just a student at welton.

authors note: this is self indulgent and very fluffy… laptop is still broken so i’m writing this on my cellular device (¬_¬) this may be ooc again yikes, not proofread and contain some tense problems… reblogs are appreciated 💌

neil perry: this boy can practically sense when you’re in need of comfort. he picks up on the smallest of changes from the way you smile, the way you stand or walk, to the tone of your voice. he won’t push you to talk to him about it, as he wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but when you end up going to him with that look on your face, he pulls you to a secluded area, maybe somewhere outside on the field. neil lets you pour your heart out to him, and not once will he look away from you; even if your eyes are looking anywhere but him. his eyes are full with pure love and understanding, but if you’re rambling like crazy, neil will say your name and gently place his hand on your cheek, making you meet his gaze. he offers up his words of inspiration, wanting to uplift you in any way shape of form, and would also go out of his to make sure you know how amazing you are. he may also pull you into a hug if he feels you need it.

todd anderson: todd’s a very shy person, and i think that can sometimes show when he’s comforting you. i know he has a lot of character development and comes out of his shell, but i still feel like his way of comforting you is spending quality time with you. if he can tell you need some kind of comfort (he can sense it like neil) he’s walking you to a quiet area- whether that’s his shared dorm or some spot on a hill under a tree)- sitting himself down and pulling you down next to him. he lets you talk when you want to, so if you want to talk, he’ll listen intently, occasionally asking questions and making comments. if you’d rather not speak, it’s a comfortable silence; i can see todd being someone very big on physical touch (because he’s quite shy), so he probably pulls you close or lets you lay your head on his lap/shoulder while he writes a poem about you in his notebook.

steven meeks: it takes one look from steven for you to break down in front of him. whether you’re just crying waterfalls or just word vomiting your worries to him, he keeps his calm, letting you do what you need to do; steven knows that keeping stuff bottled up is not healthy, and he also knows that not crying when you’re upset just makes things worse. he grabs your shoulders and pulls you close, asking how long you’ve been keeping it in, if you need some water, etc.. i think he’d take your hand, tells you he has and idea, and takes you on a walk, making occasional conversation about your feelings. he’d make a quick stop to his dorm room before walking you to the rooftop. steven would then proceed to pull out his and pitts radio, fiddling with it before placing the headphones on your head. music drowns out your sadness (he knows that music therapy helps with comforting), and it doesn’t take long before steven starts doing a silly little dance, holding your hand and encouraging you to cut loose (footloose reference).

gerard pitts: oh my pittsie, he’s the absolute sweetest. he’s probably with steven when you approach him, and gerard would (lovingly) ditch him in 0.01 seconds to be by your side. he can be a teensy bit awkward at times, but that doesn’t stop him from absolutely pampering you. i think he would give you his sweater to wear or drapes his blazer over your shoulders while you pour your heart out to him, and would 100% bring you some kind of snack that he knows you like. i actually think gerard is good at comforting, and would tell you it’s valid to feel the way you feel, that it’s okay to be upset; but he will never let you talk badly about yourself, shutting you up in an instance the moment you try to say something bad about yourself. i can see you two lying on his bed or sitting on the floor of his dorm while he informs you of the silly boy shenanigans him and meeks have been up to in order to cheer you up.

charlie dalton: it’s 11:14pm, and there’s a knock at charlie’s dorm door. when he opens it in his half- asleep state to find you standing there, visibly upset, he doesn’t have time to ask anything as you immediately step into the dorm and throw yourself onto him. he’d carefully grab the sides of your face, eyes scanning your face to make sure you’re not harmed in any way. “woah—hey hey hey, what’s wrong?”, “it’s okay, you’re okay.” at that point, charlie’s concern is on you and does not care if he wakes up his roommate. i like to think that he knows how to deal with situations like this, so he might take you outside for some fresh cool air (not without giving you his jumper first to make sure you stay warm). even though charlie definitely cracks a couple of jokes and uses his humour to cheer you up, i think he is very insightful with his words and is probably very good at comforting people in general. from that point on, for the next week or so, he is practically glued to you, making sure you’re feeling okay and doing absolutely anything for you.

richard cameron: the moment you approach cameron to find a sense of comfort, he would usher you into his dorm room and immediately start to ask what or who is making you upset, how it is impacting you, how long you’ve felt like that, etc etc… he becomes a mini therapist and practically takes mental notes on everything. he can’t hide his concern for you and might be a teensy bit pushy (lovingly) if you’re struggling to get your words out. even though cameron might not be the best with words, i feel like he would comfort you by taking some of the stress off of your shoulders; basically acts of service, like for instance if you were worried about something like grades, he would want to help you with that: he may do your homework or give you notes. if he found out some of the students at welton were picking on you and giving you trouble, he might give them a piece of his mind or dob them in to mr nolan.

knox overstreet: when knox finds out you’re upset, his first instinct is to pull you into his embrace. if you can’t get any words out, he immediately wraps his arms around you tightly, pulling you into him and letting you sob into him. if you two are sitting together and you’re venting about all your personal worries and stresses, knox either (if you’re sitting across from him) holds your hands and rubs his thumbs across them while he listens, or if you’re sitting next to him, gently pushes you to his side so you can lean on him while you ramble. his love language is most definitely physical touch, so expect lots of hugs, playing with your hair, shoulder rubs, and just general touchiness. i can also see him affirming how much he loves/cares for you and how proud he is of you, while also making lighthearted jokes just to see a small smile form on your face. knox seems like the type to cuddle you in his bed until you fall asleep in his arms.

headcannons on how the dead poets comfort you

pairing: dps boys x gn!reader

genre: comfort, pure fluff tho, could be read as romantic or platonic

word count: 1.2k

content warnings: none, only its lowercase intended and the reader is kind of at welton 25/8 so you could imagine that welton is a co-ed school (depending on your gender) or that you’re just a student at welton.

authors note: this is self indulgent and very fluffy… laptop is still broken so i’m writing this on my cellular device (¬_¬) this may be ooc again yikes, not proofread and contain some tense problems… reblogs are appreciated 💌

neil perry: this boy can practically sense when you’re in need of comfort. he picks up on the smallest of changes from the way you smile, the way you stand or walk, to the tone of your voice. he won’t push you to talk to him about it, as he wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but when you end up going to him with that look on your face, he pulls you to a secluded area, maybe somewhere outside on the field. neil lets you pour your heart out to him, and not once will he look away from you; even if your eyes are looking anywhere but him. his eyes are full with pure love and understanding, but if you’re rambling like crazy, neil will say your name and gently place his hand on your cheek, making you meet his gaze. he offers up his words of inspiration, wanting to uplift you in any way shape of form, and would also go out of his to make sure you know how amazing you are. he may also pull you into a hug if he feels you need it.

todd anderson: todd’s a very shy person, and i think that can sometimes show when he’s comforting you. i know he has a lot of character development and comes out of his shell, but i still feel like his way of comforting you is spending quality time with you. if he can tell you need some kind of comfort (he can sense it like neil) he’s walking you to a quiet area- whether that’s his shared dorm or some spot on a hill under a tree)- sitting himself down and pulling you down next to him. he lets you talk when you want to, so if you want to talk, he’ll listen intently, occasionally asking questions and making comments. if you’d rather not speak, it’s a comfortable silence; i can see todd being someone very big on physical touch (because he’s quite shy), so he probably pulls you close or lets you lay your head on his lap/shoulder while he writes a poem about you in his notebook.

steven meeks: it takes one look from steven for you to break down in front of him. whether you’re just crying waterfalls or just word vomiting your worries to him, he keeps his calm, letting you do what you need to do; steven knows that keeping stuff bottled up is not healthy, and he also knows that not crying when you’re upset just makes things worse. he grabs your shoulders and pulls you close, asking how long you’ve been keeping it in, if you need some water, etc.. i think he’d take your hand, tells you he has and idea, and takes you on a walk, making occasional conversation about your feelings. he’d make a quick stop to his dorm room before walking you to the rooftop. steven would then proceed to pull out his and pitts radio, fiddling with it before placing the headphones on your head. music drowns out your sadness (he knows that music therapy helps with comforting), and it doesn’t take long before steven starts doing a silly little dance, holding your hand and encouraging you to cut loose (footloose reference).

gerard pitts: oh my pittsie, he’s the absolute sweetest. he’s probably with steven when you approach him, and gerard would (lovingly) ditch him in 0.01 seconds to be by your side. he can be a teensy bit awkward at times, but that doesn’t stop him from absolutely pampering you. i think he would give you his sweater to wear or drapes his blazer over your shoulders while you pour your heart out to him, and would 100% bring you some kind of snack that he knows you like. i actually think gerard is good at comforting, and would tell you it’s valid to feel the way you feel, that it’s okay to be upset; but he will never let you talk badly about yourself, shutting you up in an instance the moment you try to say something bad about yourself. i can see you two lying on his bed or sitting on the floor of his dorm while he informs you of the silly boy shenanigans him and meeks have been up to in order to cheer you up.

charlie dalton: it’s 11:14pm, and there’s a knock at charlie’s dorm door. when he opens it in his half- asleep state to find you standing there, visibly upset, he doesn’t have time to ask anything as you immediately step into the dorm and throw yourself onto him. he’d carefully grab the sides of your face, eyes scanning your face to make sure you’re not harmed in any way. “woah—hey hey hey, what’s wrong?”, “it’s okay, you’re okay.” at that point, charlie’s concern is on you and does not care if he wakes up his roommate. i like to think that he knows how to deal with situations like this, so he might take you outside for some fresh cool air (not without giving you his jumper first to make sure you stay warm). even though charlie definitely cracks a couple of jokes and uses his humour to cheer you up, i think he is very insightful with his words and is probably very good at comforting people in general. from that point on, for the next week or so, he is practically glued to you, making sure you’re feeling okay and doing absolutely anything for you.

richard cameron: the moment you approach cameron to find a sense of comfort, he would usher you into his dorm room and immediately start to ask what or who is making you upset, how it is impacting you, how long you’ve felt like that, etc etc… he becomes a mini therapist and practically takes mental notes on everything. he can’t hide his concern for you and might be a teensy bit pushy (lovingly) if you’re struggling to get your words out. even though cameron might not be the best with words, i feel like he would comfort you by taking some of the stress off of your shoulders; basically acts of service, like for instance if you were worried about something like grades, he would want to help you with that: he may do your homework or give you notes. if he found out some of the students at welton were picking on you and giving you trouble, he might give them a piece of his mind or dob them in to mr nolan.

knox overstreet: when knox finds out you’re upset, his first instinct is to pull you into his embrace. if you can’t get any words out, he immediately wraps his arms around you tightly, pulling you into him and letting you sob into him. if you two are sitting together and you’re venting about all your personal worries and stresses, knox either (if you’re sitting across from him) holds your hands and rubs his thumbs across them while he listens, or if you’re sitting next to him, gently pushes you to his side so you can lean on him while you ramble. his love language is most definitely physical touch, so expect lots of hugs, playing with your hair, shoulder rubs, and just general touchiness. i can also see him affirming how much he loves/cares for you and how proud he is of you, while also making lighthearted jokes just to see a small smile form on your face. knox seems like the type to cuddle you in his bed until you fall asleep in his arms.

ִ𓂃 ⋆ IRRESISTIBLE ATTRACTION !

੭୧ . . . chad michael murray x female!reader.

warning(s) smut┆flirting┆explicit language. 𓇼 finally getting around to the requests piling in my drafts. big thanks to the anon that requested. sending u millions of tiny kisses. eighteen plus! adult content | minors do NOT interact.

you sip your margarita slowly, savoring the tart and sweet flavors as you gaze out over the city skyline. the cool night air is a welcome respite from the heat and humidity of the crowded party inside. you love the calmness and solitude the balcony offers, a quiet refuge from the pulsing music and chatter of your friends.

as you stand alone, lost in your thoughts, you suddenly become aware of a presence beside you. turning, you find yourself face to face with chad michael murray, the famous actor you had noticed earlier in the evening. he flashes you a dazzling smile.

"hi there," he says, his voice low and smooth. "what's a pretty girl like you doing out here all by yourself?"

you feel a flutter in your stomach at his attention. playing it cool, you quirk an eyebrow. "just enjoying the view. and the peace and quiet."

chad chuckles. "i can understand that. it's a little intense in there, isn't it?" he leans against the railing, his gaze sweeping over you appreciatively. "mind if i join you?"

"not at all," you reply, your heart rate picking up.

the two of you fall into easy conversation, the minutes ticking by as you sip your drinks and steal glances at each other. there's a tangible spark of attraction between you, a growing tension that crackles in the air.

eventually, chad sets down his glass and turns to face you fully. "you know, i couldn't help but notice you when you arrived tonight. you really stood out to me."

you feel yourself flush under his intense stare. "is that so?" you murmur coyly.

"absolutely." he reaches out, gently tucking a wayward strand of hair behind your ear. his fingers graze your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. "i have to say, i'm glad i worked up the courage to come talk to you."

you hold his gaze, your breath catching in your throat. "well, i'm glad you did," you admit softly.

with a sudden, decisive motion, chad cups your face in his hands and pulls you into a searing kiss. your margarita slips from your grasp, shattering to the ground, completely forgotten as you melt into his embrace. the kiss is passionate, almost hungry, and you find yourself responding with equal fervor.

when you finally break apart, both of you breathless, chad rests his forehead against yours. "let's go back to my place?" he murmurs.

without a moment's hesitation, you nod. "okay," you whisper.

hand in hand, the two of you slip away from the party, eager to find some privacy. the city lights twinkle below as chad leads you to his car, your pulse racing with anticipation.

the drive to his apartment is a blur, neither of you able to keep your hands off each other. the tension in the car is palpable, a coiled spring just waiting to be unleashed.

finally, you stumble through the door of his place, shedding clothes as you go. chad pulls you close, kissing you deeply, his fingers tracing tantalizing paths along your body. a soft moan escapes you as his lips trail down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

"you're so beautiful," he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with desire.

your fingers tangle in his hair as you guide him back to the bedroom, your bodies moving in perfect sync. once there, he lays you down gently, covering your form with his own.

the world narrows to just the two of you, a haze of heated caresses and breathless gasps. chad's touch is intoxicating, setting your nerves alight with each caress. you arch into him, craving more, needing to feel him against you.

with agonizing slowness, he worships your body, his lips and hands mapping every curve and sensitive spot. by the time he finally enters you, you're trembling with need, your nails raking down his back.

the pace he sets is torturous, each thrust slow and deep, drawing out the pleasure until you're writhing beneath him. your world narrows to the feeling of him filling you, the way he stretches and caresses you from within.

"chad..." you gasp, your voice ragged. "fuck…"

he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "god, you feel so good," he mutters.

with a sudden surge of movement, he rolls the both of you over, pulling you on top of him. you brace your hands on his chest, your hips moving in a steady, undulating rhythm that has you both moaning in ecstasy.

the room is filled with the sounds of both your soft cries and gasps, the slick slide of skin on skin, the creak of the bed. it's a symphony of pleasure, building and building until you're both teetering on the edge.

chad's fingers dig into your hips, guiding your movements. "that's it, baby," he murmurs, his eyes burning with desire. "ride me. fuck, you feel so good..."

your name falls from his lips like a prayer as you clench around him, your orgasm crashing over you in a wave of blinding ecstasy. he follows right after, his back arching as he empties himself inside you.

for long moments, you both simply hold each other, trembling and spent. then, with a contented sigh, chad pulls you down for a languid, passionate kiss.

"that was..." he trails off, shaking his head in wonder.

you smile, tracing the line of his jaw. "perfect," you finish.

chad chuckles, nuzzling your neck. "yeah. that's one word for it."

you nestle against him, feeling safe in his strong embrace. as you drift off to sleep, you can't help but think that this is only the beginning.

ִ𓂃 ⋆ IRRESISTIBLE ATTRACTION !

੭୧ . . . chad michael murray x female!reader.

warning(s) smut┆flirting┆explicit language. 𓇼 finally getting around to the requests piling in my drafts. big thanks to the anon that requested. sending u millions of tiny kisses. eighteen plus! adult content | minors do NOT interact.

you sip your margarita slowly, savoring the tart and sweet flavors as you gaze out over the city skyline. the cool night air is a welcome respite from the heat and humidity of the crowded party inside. you love the calmness and solitude the balcony offers, a quiet refuge from the pulsing music and chatter of your friends.

as you stand alone, lost in your thoughts, you suddenly become aware of a presence beside you. turning, you find yourself face to face with chad michael murray, the famous actor you had noticed earlier in the evening. he flashes you a dazzling smile.

"hi there," he says, his voice low and smooth. "what's a pretty girl like you doing out here all by yourself?"

you feel a flutter in your stomach at his attention. playing it cool, you quirk an eyebrow. "just enjoying the view. and the peace and quiet."

chad chuckles. "i can understand that. it's a little intense in there, isn't it?" he leans against the railing, his gaze sweeping over you appreciatively. "mind if i join you?"

"not at all," you reply, your heart rate picking up.

the two of you fall into easy conversation, the minutes ticking by as you sip your drinks and steal glances at each other. there's a tangible spark of attraction between you, a growing tension that crackles in the air.

eventually, chad sets down his glass and turns to face you fully. "you know, i couldn't help but notice you when you arrived tonight. you really stood out to me."

you feel yourself flush under his intense stare. "is that so?" you murmur coyly.

"absolutely." he reaches out, gently tucking a wayward strand of hair behind your ear. his fingers graze your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. "i have to say, i'm glad i worked up the courage to come talk to you."

you hold his gaze, your breath catching in your throat. "well, i'm glad you did," you admit softly.

with a sudden, decisive motion, chad cups your face in his hands and pulls you into a searing kiss. your margarita slips from your grasp, shattering to the ground, completely forgotten as you melt into his embrace. the kiss is passionate, almost hungry, and you find yourself responding with equal fervor.

when you finally break apart, both of you breathless, chad rests his forehead against yours. "let's go back to my place?" he murmurs.

without a moment's hesitation, you nod. "okay," you whisper.

hand in hand, the two of you slip away from the party, eager to find some privacy. the city lights twinkle below as chad leads you to his car, your pulse racing with anticipation.

the drive to his apartment is a blur, neither of you able to keep your hands off each other. the tension in the car is palpable, a coiled spring just waiting to be unleashed.

finally, you stumble through the door of his place, shedding clothes as you go. chad pulls you close, kissing you deeply, his fingers tracing tantalizing paths along your body. a soft moan escapes you as his lips trail down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

"you're so beautiful," he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with desire.

your fingers tangle in his hair as you guide him back to the bedroom, your bodies moving in perfect sync. once there, he lays you down gently, covering your form with his own.

the world narrows to just the two of you, a haze of heated caresses and breathless gasps. chad's touch is intoxicating, setting your nerves alight with each caress. you arch into him, craving more, needing to feel him against you.

with agonizing slowness, he worships your body, his lips and hands mapping every curve and sensitive spot. by the time he finally enters you, you're trembling with need, your nails raking down his back.

the pace he sets is torturous, each thrust slow and deep, drawing out the pleasure until you're writhing beneath him. your world narrows to the feeling of him filling you, the way he stretches and caresses you from within.

"chad..." you gasp, your voice ragged. "fuck…"

he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "god, you feel so good," he mutters.

with a sudden surge of movement, he rolls the both of you over, pulling you on top of him. you brace your hands on his chest, your hips moving in a steady, undulating rhythm that has you both moaning in ecstasy.

the room is filled with the sounds of both your soft cries and gasps, the slick slide of skin on skin, the creak of the bed. it's a symphony of pleasure, building and building until you're both teetering on the edge.

chad's fingers dig into your hips, guiding your movements. "that's it, baby," he murmurs, his eyes burning with desire. "ride me. fuck, you feel so good..."

your name falls from his lips like a prayer as you clench around him, your orgasm crashing over you in a wave of blinding ecstasy. he follows right after, his back arching as he empties himself inside you.

for long moments, you both simply hold each other, trembling and spent. then, with a contented sigh, chad pulls you down for a languid, passionate kiss.

"that was..." he trails off, shaking his head in wonder.

you smile, tracing the line of his jaw. "perfect," you finish.

chad chuckles, nuzzling your neck. "yeah. that's one word for it."

you nestle against him, feeling safe in his strong embrace. as you drift off to sleep, you can't help but think that this is only the beginning.

Pretend?

Charlie Dalton x reader CW: female reader, use of Y/N, making out, Knox and Chris, slight underage drinking [2.7k words]

“You guys gotta help me! It’s an emergency!” Knox burst into Charlie’s dorm room, breathless and frantic. He barely noticed the way Charlie and Y/N were laughing over some inside joke, their textbooks abandoned on the desk. He knew Y/N would be there; she always was.

Charlie looked up, his eyes narrowing with a mix of curiosity and concern. “Whoa, slow down, Overstreet. What’s the crisis?”

Y/N’s smile faded into a slight frown as she turned to Knox. “What happened, Knox? Are you okay?”

Knox took a deep breath, knowing this was a long shot but feeling like he had no other choice. “I need you two to fake date each other,” he said in one breath.

Y/N blinked, her frown deepening as she tried to process what Knox had just said. “Wait, what?”

Knox pressed on before he could lose his nerve. “Chris thinks we have something going on. You know how we flirted at one of her parties so I could make her jealous? Well now she thinks you and I are a thing, Y/N, and I need her to know that we’re not. Because you’re with someone else.” Knox took a breath. “I don’t care if it's Charlie you fake date. Hell, I can ask Cameron if you want.”

Y/N gasped at the thought of even fake dating Cameron, “Do you really think so low of me?”

Charlie raised his eyebrows, curious to see how Knox could get out of the grave he's digging for himself. 

“No, I don’t. I promise,” Knox whined. “I’m just a guy in love making stupid decisions. So please, help me out, would you?”

Y/N opened her mouth to tell him he’s out of his mind, but before she could get a word out, Charlie’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. “You know what? We’ll do it,” he said, cutting her off, his tone filled with a teasing edge. He shot Y/N a wink, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Y/N’s initial shock faded as she caught on to Charlie’s playful mood. A slow grin (and a lot of blush) spread across her face as she realized this could be a lot more fun than she’d initially thought. “Alright, yeah,” she agreed, turning to Knox with a smile. “We’ll help you out.”

Knox’s shoulders slumped in relief. “You two are the best,” he said, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something he was missing in this whole arrangement.

“Not so fast,” Charlie said. “Our fake relationship comes with a price.” 

And there it was, Knox thought, the missing piece. “Alright, what?”

“We each get a request. Only fair because this is Y/N’s second time helping your sorry ass out,” Charlie said.

Knox looked at his shoes, as if contemplating, however everyone knew he would do anything for a chance that Chris even looks at him. “Fine, but you have to decide now what you want.”

Y/N and Charlie looked at eachother and high fived. “Score!” Y/N cheered. 

“Alright, I want folded laundry for a month,” Charlie requested. 

“A week,” Knox retorted.

“Two weeks and I’ll give you a pick-up line pep talk.” Charlie shot a wink towards Y/N. “Angels should be in heaven. How'd you escape?”

Y/N giggled and put her head in her hands to stop them from seeing her face blush. It wasn’t even that good of a line, but it was Charlie delivering it. 

This got Knox to reply quickly. “Deal. And for you?” 

“Hmm. Twenty dollars so Charlie can take me out,” she responds. 

“Done and done.” 

Charlie pauses to argue, “Hey wait, how come you didn’t negotiate with her? Twenty bucks for one date? That’s so much!”

“Can it Charlie, he already agreed,” Y/N hushed. “And aren’t I worth an expensive date?”

“You know that's not what I meant,” Charlie pleaded.

“She’s worth more than you and has helped me out multiple times,” Knox explained.

“Fair enough,” Charlie shrugs. “Okay, so. How is this gonna work?”

“Well…” Knox starts. 

The plan was simple: Knox and Y/N were both invited to one of Chris’s parties as usual, and this time, they invited Charlie to tag along. The idea was that Chris would see Y/N with Charlie and realize Knox was available, and maybe, just maybe, Chris would stop thinking there was something going on between Knox and Y/N and then make a move on Knox.

The night of the party, Knox was a nervous wreck. Charlie tried to help calm his nerves when he gave his Flirting 101 Pep Talk, but Knox still felt a knot in his stomach as they arrived at Chris’s place, a large, bustling house filled with students and the sound of music booming from the speakers. Y/N and Charlie walked in together, Charlie's arm slung casually over Y/N's shoulder, their smiles easy and relaxed. Knox followed close behind, trying to keep his cool.

Chris greeted them at the door with a smile, but her eyes quickly darted to Y/N and Charlie’s closeness, then finally to Knox.

“Hey guys. Come on in,” Chris welcomed the group. For a moment, her face hardened with suspicion, looking mildly uncomfortable. 

“Chris, hi!” Y/N called. She moved to give Chris a hug, but Chris deflected, moving to let them all inside.

“Well you all know where the drinks are. See you around.” Chris ran off into the party, leaving the three friends in the foyer of Chris’s massive house. 

“What did you do, Overstreet?” Charlie asked, turning to Knox. 

“What do you mean, me?” Knox said with his hands up. “It was obviously Y/N she’s mad at.” 

“Yeah, I didn’t like that at all. We were really starting to be close friends too.” Y/N hugged herself, feeling shame for something she didn’t understand. 

“Hey, we’ll figure it out.” Charlie reached out to rub Y/N’s arms. “It’ll be okay, angel.”

“Let’s just get to the party to carry out Knox’s plan.” 

“Right, let's loosen up.”

As they made their way through the crowd, Y/N and Charlie naturally gravitated toward each other, their banter flowing easily as they exchanged inside jokes. Knox couldn’t help but notice how well they got along. Better than most fake couples he’d ever seen (which was zero). They sat down on a couch in the corner of the room, and Knox awkwardly squeezed in between them. 

Chris hovered nearby, her eyes darting between Knox and Y/N before she excused herself to grab drinks. Y/N and Charlie, noticing this, looked at each other and then at Knox’s sad face. 

“You know what, Y/N and I will get us something to drink,” Charlie said, standing up. He offered Y/N his hand, which she accepted.

“Yeah, you just.. save us this spot, okay?” Y/N offered. 

They received a groan in response, so they made their way to the make-shift bar. 

Charlie got to the bar first and started grabbing multiple different bottles and cups at once. 

“Careful with that, Dalton,” Y/N teased as Charlie attempted to pour them both a drink. “You might spill it all over yourself.”

Charlie smirked, deliberately overfilling his cup. “Maybe I just need someone to clean me up,” he quipped, leaning a little closer.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head as she reached for her drink. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” Charlie shot back, his tone light but his gaze intense. He brushed a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she playfully nudged him. “Don’t get too full of yourself, Dalton.”

Just as Charlie was about to retort, Chris appeared beside them, her expression unreadable. “Hey, Y/N, can I talk to you for a second?”

Y/N glanced at Charlie, who gave her a small, encouraging nod, before turning back to Chris. “Sure, what’s up?”

Chris crossed her arms, her voice edged with frustration. “It’s not fair, you know. How you’re treating Knox. Last party, you two were all over each other, and now you’re with Charlie? What’s going on?”

Y/N sighed, realizing how things might have looked from the outside. “Chris, it was just for fun. There’s nothing between Knox and me. We were just trying to have a good time. I’m with Charlie now.”

Chris looked between Y/N and Charlie, processing this new information. “So, Knox is single?”

Y/N nodded, trying to keep her voice gentle. “Yeah, he is. I didn’t mean to lead him on or anything. He’s just a friend.”

Chris’s shoulders relaxed slightly as if a weight had been lifted. “Okay. I just.. I wanted to look out for him, you know?”

Y/N offered her a reassuring smile. “I get it. But seriously, there’s nothing going on with Knox and me.” Chris looked down, bashfully. “If you like him, you should talk to him.”

Chris nodded thoughtfully. “We’ll see. Thanks, Y/N.”

Chris left quickly, leaving the two of them to watch her go. 

“Do you think that solved it?” Charlie asked.

Y/N kept her eyes on Chris. “Well, she’s heading upstairs instead of to Knox or at least the party.”

“I don’t know if that's a good sign or not.” Charlie rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m starting to think that Knox’s plan isn’t going to work.”

“Well, I don’t want to upset Knox, so I think we should stick to our plan and be by his side in case things go sideways for him.” Y/N picked up her drink and took a sip. “Here, get him a drink and we’ll go back.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Charlie saluted and grabbed a beer for himself and a mixed drink for Knox. They both made their way back to where Knox was seated.

“Here you go,” Charlie said, putting a drink in Knox’s hand. “Made your favorite.”

Charlie sat down next to Knox, and instead of Y/N sitting on Knox’s other side, she sat on Charlie’s lap.

“Oh, hello.” A smile spread across Charlie’s face as he situated himself for Y/N. She sent a smirk back. 

Knox leaned in toward the two of them, lowering his voice so no one else could hear. “It’s not working,” he hissed. “She’s still ignoring me.”

Charlie rolled his eyes, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips. “Knox, you can’t think it's that easy. Even if she knows Y/N and I are together, she might want to take her time with you. Relationships aren’t that simple.”

Knox frowned, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Then what do you suggest? Because it looks like you’re just sitting there talking, and she’s still convinced Y/N and I are a thing!”

Y/N, who had just about enough of Knox’s bullshit and bad flirting ideas, finally spoke up, her voice tinged with irritation. “Maybe the problem isn’t us, Knox. Maybe you just don’t know how to talk to her.”

Knox opened his mouth to protest, but Y/N wasn’t finished. She turned to Charlie with a determined glint in her eye. “You want to see what a real relationship looks like?”

Before Knox could respond, Y/N leaned in close to Charlie, her hand gently cupping his cheek as she whispered, “Let’s give him something to believe in.”

Charlie’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but a slow, confident grin spread across his face as he caught on to what Y/N was planning. “As you wish,” he murmured, his voice low and playful.

Without another word, Y/N closed the distance between them, her lips meeting Charlie’s in a kiss that was anything but fake. It was slow and deliberate, filled with an intensity that took both of them by surprise. Charlie responded immediately, his arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. They could feel the electricity between them, a chemistry that neither had fully acknowledged until now.

Knox stared at them in shock, his jaw dropping as he watched his friends completely lose themselves in the moment. He could barely comprehend what he was seeing. Their kiss was so convincing, so real, that he almost believed they were a couple.

As the kiss stretched on, Chris reappeared with slightly more makeup on and a new shirt, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of Y/N and Charlie locked in a passionate embrace. She turned to Knox, her expression a mix of confusion and curiosity. “Knox, can we talk for a minute?” she asked, her voice soft.

Knox snapped out of his stupor, nodding quickly as he stood up. “Uh, yeah, sure,” he said, casting one last glance at the kissing couple before taking out a twenty dollar bill and leaving it on the table nearby. 

“Let’s leave those two lovebirds alone,” Chris said with a small smile, taking Knox by the hand and leading him away.

Once Chris and Knox were out of sight, Y/N and Charlie finally pulled apart, their breathing heavy, their faces flushed. They looked at each other for a moment, a mixture of surprise and amusement dancing in their eyes. And then, simultaneously, they both burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the room.

“That was..” Y/N started, but she couldn’t stop giggling long enough to finish her sentence.

“Amazing?” Charlie offered, his grin wide and unrestrained.

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, amazing.”

Little did Knox know, Y/N and Charlie had been secretly dating the entire time. Their relationship had started out quietly, both of them preferring to keep things low-key, but tonight had changed everything. There was no fooling anyone about their status anymore, not after that kiss.

“So, what now?” Y/N asked, her voice softening as the laughter died down.

Charlie leaned in closer, his forehead resting gently against hers. “Now, we stop pretending,” he said, his voice tender but firm. “No more hiding. No more fake relationships. Just us.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with happiness as she nodded. “Just us.”

“So how about I take my best girl out on a date she deserves,” Charlie says, picking up the twenty dollars as Y/N’s reward. 

Y/N laughed, “I don’t know, Charlie. Someone told me that was too much for a date.”

“Yeah, well, that was before the hottest make out of his life.” Charlie winked and stood up. “I think my baby could use some pampering.”

“Well if you insist.”

Charlie bent over and picked up Y/N as she squealed in excitement. He gave her a quick kiss before starting to make his way through the party to leave. 

“Well, I’m glad to be out of a fake relationship and into a real one. With the same person, if I might add. Gets a little confusing, don’t you think?” They were approaching the front door and finally getting outside. 

“I think I’m more happy to be done flirting with Knox,” Y/N shuttered. “Do you think your pickup lines helped him at all?”

Charlie stopped walking and stared straight ahead. “Well, either that or you talked some sense into Chris to finally talk to Knox. Look.” Charlie tilted his head forward, pointedly. 

There stood Knox and Chris sharing a kiss (really getting at it for a first kiss too). 

“Awe. Charlie, I think we did that.” Y/N hugged Charlie tighter, pushing their heads together. Charlie slowly set her down, keeping her wrapped up in his arms. 

“No, baby, I know we did that. We’re gonna have to make speeches at their wedding about tonight. They’re gonna have to repay us by naming their kids after us.” 

Y/N laughed, turning to Charlie. “I hope Charlie’s a girl then.” 

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Well, as long as she’s beautiful. Gotta live up to the name, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh I do know. You are quite beautiful Charlie,” Y/N said, looking at Charlie as if he was the only thing in the universe. 

Charlie blushed. “You know I could never compare to you.”

“I love you, Charlie.”

“I love you too, angel.”

They both leaned in for a kiss, this one slow and tender, a stark contrast to the heated exchange they’d shared earlier. It was gentle, filled with warmth and affection, a moment that spoke of love more than anything else. 

ORLANDO (FIRST KISS)

- charlie, your best friend, attempts to set you up with the crush he is convinced you have. (charlie dalton x gn!reader, includes some neil being a good friend, slight angst into fluff, happy au, no beta we die like real men)

word count: 2,647

a/n - i love charlie so much oh my god 😭 hopefully there’s more to come with him! i’m planning a very long fic for him, hopefully similar in feeling to my neil fic “the last time” :) this is slightly inspired by the song “orlando” by leith ross so pls check them out!!

It’s 1:32 AM on a Friday night (Saturday, technically, but that rarely seems to matter), and Charlie Dalton is refusing to let you sleep.

“You’ve got to tell me. I swear, cross my heart, I won’t tell a soul.” He begs.

Charlie has been your best friend for god knows how long. You met so long ago that you don’t even remember how or why; it just was. That’s exactly what your relationship is. There’s really no rhyme or reason, considering you would detest anyone else with his personality, but you’re friends anyways, and you love him with all your heart. Opposites attract, you suppose. You don’t know for sure. Most days, including today, he is extremely and desperately annoying.

You slump down onto his bed, covering your eyes with your hands. He’s gotten it into his mind that you have a crush, and he won’t rest until he finds out who it is. Lucky you.

“Charlie, it’s no one.” You groan, peeking past your fingers to stare at him with a cross expression. “Even if I did like someone, I wouldn’t tell you.”

The problem is, you do like someone, and he’s sitting right in front of you with messy hair and pajama pants.

Your feelings for him, just like your meeting, are so far buried in the past that you couldn’t dig them up with an excavator. One day, you suppose, you just started to fall in love with him. He’s annoying and rich and a total smart-ass, but you love him. In some soft, quiet ways, he is the kindest boy you’ve ever met.

He notices when you get cut off mid-conversation or when you’re just a little too uncomfortable to talk to the person in front of you. He knows you like the back of his hand and puts his knowledge to use without ever having to ask, like how he always gets you exactly what you want on your birthday. He’s smart and energized and a breath of fresh air, no matter how stale the room is. And, of course, though you would rarely tell him, he is dashingly handsome.

He sits up straighter and begins listing every boy you’ve ever come in contact with. “Meeks? You always did like his type. Ooh, or Pitts? He’s a pitiful lady-killer. Todd is another good choice. Knox has got his thing with Chris, so you probably wouldn’t like him unless you’re into getting your heart broken.” He stops his ranting to take a breath, then continues on. “You cannot like Cameron because if you do, I won’t ever talk to you again. It isn’t Cameron, right?”

You scoff. “I don’t have a crush. Stop trying to guess a person that doesn’t exist.”

“Neil?” He questions. You hesitate just a bit before waving away his suggestion. Neil is a very good friend of both yours and his, and truthfully, he would definitely be the best boyfriend out of all of them. Despite that, you do not love him like you love Charlie. Not even close.

He catches on to your hesitation with scary accuracy. The tilt of your head, the twitch of your hand, the way the corners of your mouth almost curved up into a smile. Charlie feels his heart drop. “Oh my god, it’s Neil. Of course it’s Neil, it’s always Neil! You like Neil.” Neil is, unbeknownst to him, a complete catch. It makes sense that you would like him. After all, he’s kind, outgoing, and a whole lot nicer than Charlie is. That doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Like you, Charlie doesn’t exactly know when you came into his life. Maybe a stuffy dinner party or a prep event- all that matters to him is that you’re here now, and he loves you. He does, however, know when he started loving you.

It was seventh grade at a school dance, and you had decided to go with a boy he barely knew. When the boy asked you out with a pocketed rose and a shy smile, Charlie felt his blood boiling. How dare he, he thought, take you away from him? You’re his best friend. He would have bought you an entire flower shop had you said the word.

Seeing you waltz with him in your pretty outfit, as awkward and stiff as you both were, was too much for him to bear. Charlie left early, prompting you to follow him. The scene that resulted was one you both tried heavily to erase.

“Charlie, what’s wrong?” You panted, hurrying after him as fast as your pinchy shoes would allow. “Charlie. Charlie! Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing. Just go away.” He sniffled. You turned the corner to see him sitting on a curb, tears tracking down his face. If you knew one thing about Charlie Dalton, it was that he hated crying. You sat down next to him, but he turned to face the trees to his left.

“What happened?” You asked gently. How he despised your gentle care.

“I hate you. Go away.” His voice broke in the middle of his sentence. “I never want to see you again.”

Something in you snapped in that moment, something angry and sad all at once. He was hurting, and you loathed it, but Charlie always got what he wanted in the end.

You stood up and left, muttering a “sorry” over your shoulder.

He tried to avoid you for a while after that, but as with all fated things, he couldn’t stay away for long. He went back to you without a hint of apology, and you took him. Begrudgingly, you just couldn’t be without your best friend for very long.

He knew he loved you then, and that fact hasn’t changed in the present.

“I don’t like Neil.” You insist. “Trust me.”

Charlie stands to pace around his room, talking with his hands as per usual. “Y’know, you always seem smiley around him. I should’ve seen it coming, really. The way you talk to him can’t be platonic.” You sigh from the bed, and Charlie flops down beside you. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin. It’s pleasant, like a ray of sun on a cold day. You instinctively move closer to him as he opens his mouth. “I could probably get you a date with him. Not that you couldn’t do it yourself, but,” he pauses, a hint of hurt humor in his eyes, “I could be your wingman.”

He doesn’t want to be. He really doesn’t want to be, but what can he do? He would rather see you happy with Neil than miserable with no one. Despite how much he hates it, he’s gotten over most of his prepubescent jealousy. He knows deep down in the very achingly sad part of him that you don’t love him. At least, not the way he loves you.

You’re facing him, your nose inches away from his chest as your heart pounds in yours. He really wants you to get with Neil. Well, if that’s how he feels, you don’t feel the need to reject the offer. Maybe this is just the thing you need. What’s the point in pining after him when he’s actively trying to set you up with his second best friend?

“Yeah. That… I would like that.” Charlie’s heart crumbles in his chest.

“Then I’ll get right on it.” He grins. Behind the smile, sadness is swimming in his eyes, but you don’t bother to look at them.

It’s winter break, one of Charlie’s favorite times of the year, but he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this sad before.

By the time the next weekend rolled around, you had almost forgotten about Charlie’s proposed setup. But, on this Saturday when you’re cozy in your room, Neil comes knocking at your door.

You open the door, slightly surprised. He’s holding a bouquet of flowers with a small grin on his face. They’re your favorite flowers.

“Hi.” He says. His voice is breathless.

You raise your eyebrows, but for some reason, you can’t help but smile. Neil is standing in your doorway, and you feel like you know what he’s going to ask. “Hey.”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” He implores, holding the bouquet out for you to take. “It doesn’t have to be right now, but… I’m ready if you are.” He’s dressed in a crisp suit, and if you’re being honest, you’d hate to make him go home without putting it to use.

You laugh lightly, the feeling bubbling out of your stomach. “Yeah, I’d love that. Just let me get ready and I’ll be out in ten minutes.”

Two days prior to Saturday, Charlie proposed a dead poets town trip. They were milling around, bouncing from shop to shop before Charlie clasped Neil on the shoulder.

“What do you think about Y/N?”

Neil turned, confused. “What do you mean?”

There was a smirk on Charlie’s face, but he hesitated like he didn’t actually want to say the words he was about to say. “I mean, I think you two would be a pretty cute couple.”

Neil let out a huff of air, almost in disbelief. “You’ve been in love with them since seventh grade, Nuwanda. Don’t try to act like you aren’t.”

Charlie gasped exaggeratedly and put a hand over his heart. “How dare you suggest that! I just want the best for my dearest friends.” The others laughed. Every single one of them knew that Charlie harbored deep feelings for you- and every single one of them knew he would never admit it. “Look, just one date. Ask them out on Saturday. They really like you, and I know they’re free, so they can’t pull any excuses.”

“I just don’t know.” Neil admitted. “They’re great and all, but I’d feel bad if I stole away your crush of four years.”

“You won’t be stealing anything, my boy. Just think about it.” Charlie knew he was lying, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he also knew that somehow, he was making the right decision.

Like all of your romantic endeavors, your date with Neil is slightly awkward. He’s your friend, sure, but you’ve never really thought about him like this before. You never even considered dating him. It’s always been Charlie. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to broaden your horizons.

After the initial tension, you would like to believe it went well. Neil walks you out of the restaurant, holding your arm. He’s smiling, and you feel your own expression falter. You like him, you really do, but some part of you knows that he will never be Charlie.

He leans closer to you, almost close enough to touch. Your heart pounds in your chest as he whispers something into your ear. “Don’t look, but Charlie’s watching. Pretend I’m kissing you.”

You’re taken aback as your eyes try to search for his brown hair, but after a second, you comply. You shut your eyes and thread your fingers through Neil’s. To anyone else, especially anyone inside of the restaurant, it looks like you’re smashing tongues with him.

Neil walks you home as the day fades into night, and as much as you ask, your questions are left unanswered with a sly wink.

“I can’t believe you would do that.” Charlie rages. “It was meant to be a date, not a date and a tongue fuck! That was their first kiss, Neil, and you’ve stripped them of it!” He doesn’t know why he’s so outrageously enraged. It was a quick kiss from the boy you’ve been crushing on. He should be overjoyed for you.

“It wasn’t like that, Charlie. Just ask them.” Neil is surprisingly calm, considering his friend is screaming at him. “Ask them. Go on.” He pushes Charlie’s shoulder. “I walked them home.”

Charlie grumbles, his gut twisted into shaking, angry knots. “I will. If they tell me you did anything weird, though, you’re dead.” Neil shakes his head.

“I think you’d kill me even if I didn’t kiss them.”

For the second time, you hear a knock at your door. This one is loud and frenzied, but through the haze, you can tell who it is. Who else would knock so harshly at 11:23 at night? It’s a good four hours after your date, so it definitely can’t be Neil.

You open the door, clad in pajamas and a frown. “Seriously, Charlie? You’re gonna wake the whole neighborhood.”

“Did he kiss you?” Ah, straight to the point. He’s never one to beat around the bush.

“What’s it to you?” You defend. “You didn’t care about that possibility when you wanted me to date him.” You cross your arms. Why the hell is he so upset? You don’t understand anything about this. His motives, his feelings, right now, they’re more confusing than he’s ever been. Well, save for one night. Oddly, this reminds you of that dance a few years back. You don’t want that to happen again, so whatever’s going on has to stop.

He opens his mouth and then closes it like he’s actually considering what he wants to say for the first time in his life. “I just…” A defeated expression tugs his face down. Your heart plummets. You rarely ever see him crestfallen. The last time was four years ago, and you had hoped you would never see him like that again.

He turns to walk away. He can’t do it, he just can’t. He’s walking so fast the pavement under his feet is a blur, and you chase after him.

“Charlie, what are you-“ He turns, seeing the confusion on your face.

When he looks at you, all Charlie can see is love. He loves your voice, the curve of your lips, the way you do anything and everything. In that moment, when he sees you with tired eyes, his inhibitions flee like rabbits from a wolf. Maybe, just maybe, he can.

Before you can ask, yet after you see the fire in his eyes, he grabs your arm and cuts you off.

“Can I kiss you?”

You’re taken aback for a moment, lips parted, not speaking a word. His hair is messy and the tear tracks on his cheeks glisten in the street lights. It’s like everything you’ve ever wanted has sprung to life before your eyes. “Yes, but-“

He presses his lips to yours, effectively cutting off any further communication once again. His grip on you softens as his hands reach up to cup your face. Your eyes flutter shut, and a million different things race through your mind. All you can consciously think is that you never want it to end.

When he pulls away, breathless, something new is shining in his eyes. “I hope that wasn’t bad for a second kiss.” He smiles. He’s still worried, more so than he’s ever been, but that was the most amazing thing he thinks he’s ever done.

“Second? Charlie, that was my first.”

He pauses. “So Neil didn’t kiss you?”

You laugh, and upon seeing his even more excited face, you laugh so hard you double over. He joins, and your giggles are probably too loud for how late it is. “No! God no, he told me to pretend because you were watching.” Your voice comes out humorous and strained, with so much joy behind the tone that Charlie can feel himself starting to laugh again. “Were- Were you in the restaurant for our whole date?”

“Yeah.” He chokes out. “I couldn’t just let the love of my life date some other guy without my knowledge, right?”

“Oh, totally. Maybe you should ask me out next time, then, to completely avoid this whole scenario.” He pulls you in, laughing against your shoulder.

“Sure. Yeah, I think I will. Next time, I’ll make sure of it.”

Sam Winchester was pure dominance in motion. His hand pressed firmly against your back, his grip almost possessive, as if he was marking his territory. “Stay close,” he growled, his voice thick with authority. The way he stood, tall and buff, that big guy presence of his radiating strength, made it clear—he wasn’t asking for compliance, he was demanding it. When his eyes locked onto yours, there was no mistaking who was in charge.

But behind closed doors?

“Oh, fuck—please.” His voice, breathless and wrecked, barely carried above a whisper.

His head tipped back against the pillows, throat exposed, chest rising and falling with every ragged breath. The muscles in his body clenched as you moved above him, the base of his cock pressing urgently against your clit with every shift of your hips. He could barely hold himself back, his body trembling, his hands clutching the sheets in desperation.

“You like that, big guy?” you teased, rolling your hips slowly, savoring the sensation of him beneath you, feeling his muscles tighten and relax in response. His breathing became erratic, the tension building as his hands moved to grip your waist, urging you to move faster, deeper.

“Yeah—yes, please, don’t stop.” His voice cracked, raw with need. You could feel his body respond, his hips lifting slightly to meet yours, pushing for the pleasure that was building between you.

With each movement, the pressure in his cock grew, his desire unmistakable. He was a wall of muscle, but beneath you, Sam melted, surrendering to the pleasure that surged through him. Your cunt ached with every slow grind, the connection between you intensifying with each shift. Every touch, every movement, drew him closer to the release he was desperately seeking.

tags: @ultravi0lence14 @bejeweledinterludes @xoswiftieprincess @littlesoulshine @titsout4jackles @figthoughts @haunteres @h8aaz @j2archives @deansbeer @chris444evr @blossomingorchids @immodestly-marina @rositaslabyrinth @soldiersgirl @sunsbaby @vmiina @mourningthewicked @jensenacklesballsack

shopping at victoria’s secret with sam (slightly suggestive)

Sam follows you inside the Victoria's Secret, looking a little out of place amongst the racks of bras, underwear, and frilly things. He clears his throat, glancing around curiously.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, standing awkwardly next to you and watching as you begin to go through the clothes on the racks.

He continues to watch you select different pieces of clothing before his gaze catches on a particular set of lace panties and bra, his eyebrow raising a bit as he glances away, a light dusting of pink appearing on his cheeks.

He clears his throat, trying to look casual as he glances back over at the piece of clothing, now a look of intrigue in his expression. He's quiet for a few moments, watching you as he ponders something, before he finally speaks up.

"That.. That would look pretty good on you.."

His cheeks grow darker at the realization that he actually said that out loud, quickly looking away as he shoves his hands back in his pockets, trying to act like it was a casual comment and not something that he'd actually considered.

He hesitates for a moment, shifting on his feet before he finally looks over at you again, his expression a mix of nerves and embarrassment.

He blushes, trying to keep his gaze from wandering back to the lingerie set on the mannequin. He shifts a bit, trying to look more casual as he stands next to you, his heart beating a bit faster at what he was currently thinking.

The air between them feels more heated with every look and comment. His gaze drifts back over to the mannequin and the lingerie set again, lingering on the outfit for a moment before he quickly averts his eyes, trying to find something else to focus on to distract himself from his.. distracting thoughts.

"I just mean.. the color would look nice on you.. and the cut of it. It would look.. really nice.."

"How about we try it out later, hm?"

You run your hand down Sam's arm as he shivers at your action, his heart rate speeding up instantly at the suggestive offer. His expression is suddenly more intense, his gaze dark as he looks at you.

"Yeah.. I'd.. really like that."

divider creds @bernardsbendystraws !!

౨ৎ ₊˚⊹ his mission

pairing: sam winchester x fem!reader

summary: you share an intense intimate moment with your boyfriend

cw: 18+ smut.ᐟ missionary.ᐟ unprotected pnv [for the love of god wrap it up].ᐟ creampie.ᐟ pre-established relationship [dating].ᐟ cuss words.ᐟ breeding kink if you squint.

word count: 373

────────── 💦 ──────────

sam absolutely loves fucking you in missionary. the way you claw and scratch at his back with each snap of his hips, your face contorting in pure bliss as his tip continuously kisses your cervix, the way you look at him with the most lustful puppy eyes.

the moans that constantly slip those pretty lips of yours, god, he loves it.

the way your shaky legs try to wrap around his waist to pull him even closer, deeper inside of you, as if that was even possible since he already was balls deep inside you, filling you up to the brim.

and as soon as you get drunk on his cock? when you can’t seem to form a single proper word, let alone a sentence? it’s honestly the most adorably pathetic view he has ever witnessed, he fucking loves it, he’s so addicted to turning you into a hot mess.

watching your eyes roll to the back of your skull as he hits that sweet spot over and over and over again, earning incoherent mumbles as you try to tell him how good he is making you feel, trying to beg him not to stop and whining about how close you are.

but no words need to be spoken for him to know he is doing a damn good job because the sight of his woman falling apart beneath him is more than enough to feed his ego. he just can’t get enough of watching you struggle to kiss him back as he fucks your brains out.

and when he finally spills his seed inside of you, his thick ropes of white covering your warm gummy walls? he lets out a choked up groan against your skin, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he places gentle worshipping kisses, his hips rolling slower but not stopping until he’s pumped dry, as if it was his mission, his purpose in life to give you all his seed.

then after the two of you catch your breaths, he slowly pulls out, watching his cum drip out of your used hole. he can’t help but smirk, a primal instinct kicking in as he enjoys the view of his woman being marked by him.

thank you so much for reading! feedback and reblogs are always deeply appreciated <3

🏷️ : @soldiersgirl @jensenacklesballsack @littlejoels @littlelamy @deanswifeyy @slut4jackles @h8aaz @angelicjackles @losers-clvb @lyarr24 @cowboysandcigarettes @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @acklesarchives @deanspookiebear @tinas111 @bejeweledinterludes @miss-marmalade @pinksatinpanties @multiversefanfics @sunnyteume @mrsanakinwinchesterpoldark @that-stanford-girlie @pwin098 @honeyyxxbee @rerejunebug @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @lunaleah

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Do You Want To Know A Secret (Teen!George Harrison x Teen!Lennon!Reader)

A/N: Hello, Happy Easter! I'm posting another oneshot, because why not? I feel like it could have been a little better than what I wrote, but I was in a bit of a rush to get it out. Who doesn't love some George?

Summary: It's 1961. You're John's sister and he refuses to let you talk to anyone in his band (and vice versa) despite your house being their practice location. George scores some alone time with you one day, and sings you a little song he composed for you.

WARNINGS: SUGGESTIVE BEHAVIOUR; the reader is pretty confident in this oneshot. Mentions of sex, but nothing further than a heated make out session/ neck kissing really occurs in this. Swearing, probably, but I could be wrong. George starts out shy but he is not by the end. There are probably some typos as well oops.

This one is T rated, but just read at your own risk because as mentioned, sex is discussed

It was 1961, a relatively warm Friday evening after dinner, where an eighteen year old George Harrison was accompanied by a nineteen year-old Paul McCartney, on the way to the Lennon household.

Band practice was that night, the newly renamed "Beatles" preparing for their next gig at the Cavern Club just that following evening. George had his guitar case in hand, and Paul, his bass, as they walked and talked.

John's house could be spotted from where the two were now, and George, who was talking in that moment, lost train of thought when he spotted someone just outside the front door.

That someone was you. John's little sister. Aged eighteen; like George.

George could feel his heart fluttering as he watched you move around the front garden, watering can in hand as you tended to the little flowers in the window planters.

"Don't stare," Paul lightly chided in a sing-song tone, wagging his finger at George when he came back down to earth, cheeks flush at the idea of having been caught looking.

"But look at her," George groaned, hand gesturing towards you haphazardly before dropping it down helplessly at his side. "Just look at how perfect--"

"And off limits," Paul added quickly.

"... she is," George sighed as he finished his sentence, a rather upsetting frown on his face. The boys had since halted walking, making sure to be far enough away that you weren't in earshot of their conversation.

"Look, Harry," Paul rested a hand on the younger boy's shoulder in comfort. "I know how you feel. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think she was a looker, y'know?"

Paul and George glanced over at you for a moment, before he continued.

"... but if I had a sister, and three lads who couldn't keep their eyes off her, I couldn't say I wouldn't be doing what Lenny's doing right now."

George knew that Paul was right. As much as he hated it, John loved you very much, and was cautious of any guy trying to be near you, especially now that you were a young adult, and not some child.

Every time the band gathered at John's house, everyone seemed to be under a microscope-- including you. The boys weren't allowed to talk to you, and you couldn't even look at anyone without your brother hollering at you to get upstairs, or to refocus back to your homework, or whatever task you had at hand.

But in moments like this, where the protective older brother wasn't around, George took every chance he could to greet you with a smile on his face.

And he wasn't going to stop now.

"I get it, mate. I just... there's something about her." That's the simplest George could have explained it to Paul. He wasn't about to disclose that he dreamt of you almost every night, or that he relished in the moments of excitement and anxiety of being able to see you, if only for five seconds out of his entire week.

And he certainly would not have told him about the songs he was composing; his muse being you, of course.

It was all just one giant secret, and as much as George wanted to tell you, all he thought of were downsides in result of revealing such a thing to you.

George thought that you, for starters, were leaps and bounds out of his league, he was scared of being laughed at, and he would have been absolutely horrified if John were to ever find out.

The negatives drastically outweighed the positives, so he was better to keep his mouth shut.

George and Paul continued their trek to the building, and when they finally made it to the walkway leading to the door, you turned your head, smiling gently and waving to them once you realized who it was.

"Good afternoon, lads," you greeted politely, and George nearly melted at the sound of your voice.

"Hello, Miss Lennon," the boys responded in unison. George cringed a little at that, pushing through the door with Paul following close behind. As much as he wanted to stick around, he knew it would have been too risky.

And thank God he made made that choice. John was waiting for them in the main foyer, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't seem too happy, but he wasn't quite pissed off, either; almost as if he were in limbo of the two.

"'Bout time yous showed up. Me n' Pete've been waiting forever. C'mon, now." John waved his hand as he headed for the basement stairs, and the boys wordlessly continued on so they could begin their practice. George only looked over his shoulder once before descending the steps, hoping to have caught just one more glimpse of you, but to no avail.

"We have a show tomorrow, and you boys decided to be a quarter of an hour late!" John complained on as he threw his guitar strap over his shoulder. Pete was in the corner of the room on his drum set just shaking his head as he grabbed his drumsticks and tapped a little on his instrument. he must have been there for a while already.

Paul and George hurriedly grabbed out their instruments, apologizing so the older boy's complaints would cease. "As long as you're ready to play now, I don't care."

John always got sort of tense when the other three boys were over, hyper-focussed on keeping you away from them and vice versa. He was more or less worried about Paul trying to flirt with you, so a lot of John's poor behaviour stemmed from that.

Little did he know that it was actually George who'd fallen head over heels for you.

But that wasn't something to worry about in that moment. What was important was that practice began, and that they had to see improvement before their show just that following night.

Practice was going well. They had been at it for nearly an hour at that point, and the more they worked, the more pleased each boy was with the sound. They took a brief pause for some water, and John was rifling through his pile of lyrics sitting on a table in the corner of the room, trying to decide which one to practice next.

As George finished the last drop of water in his glass, John piped up, "I don't have all my songs here. Must've left them in my room."

"Which ones?" George asked, empty glass still in-hand. "I'm running up for a refill, might as well grab that for you as well."

"I think I left them on my desk at the side. You sure you don't want me running up?"

George swatted his hand as he started for the stairs. "Don't worry 'bout it. Be back in a jiff."

George hopped up the stairs, leaving his glass on the kitchen counter next to the sink before moving down the main foyer. He paused at the front door to peek out the window to see if you were still outside, but he didn't see you from where he was standing. He sighed gently before turning and making his way up to the second floor.

George made his way down to John's room at the end of the hallway. It was the only room with the door open, and before he even made it into the room, he could see the pile of lyrics on the desk, right where John said they'd be.

He picked up the pile, shuffling through them and counting the pages as he did so. He took one more brief glance around the room to make sure he wasn't missing anything else. When he decided this was all he needed, he turned on his heel and headed out to the hallway.

George was just about to make it to the stairs when he felt someone take hold of his arm, and swiftly tug him into one of the other rooms. The moment was a blur for him, and it took him a second to piece together what happened. He was standing in the middle of the room-- your room.

And you were only three feet away from him, back against the door, and cheeks glowing pink.

"Hello," you smiled gently, and George had no clue what to say, pages clutched tightly against his chest as his brain swirled with millions of thoughts.

"Hi," he squeaked, face burning in humiliation at his flustered state, but he was in your room, for Christ's sake. Your room! He had no clue what to say to you, mouth hanging open as he tried to search his brain for some other words.

"Look, I know we're not supposed to be doing this," you expressed, and George could feel his heart doing violent flips in his chest, especially when you pushed yourself off the door to take a step or two closer to him. This was the longest conversation he had with you, to date.

"Johnny would kill me if he knew I had a boy in my room, you know," you took a moment to pause, and all George could do was nod his head in agreement, intoxicated by the way you walked, and the way you talked. There was a hint of something in your voice... but the boy couldn't quite place what it was. Yearning? That couldn't be right... could it?

"But where's the fun in that, huh?" You asked, hands clasped behind your back, eyes staring right back into his, and George couldn't help but break his gaze first, utterly intimidated by your confidence. His eyes fixated to the dress you were wearing, and he could see a playful smile dancing on your lips in his peripheral.

"... You like what you see, Georgie?" You asked lowly after a moment, and his stare shot back up to your face again, certain his legs were numb. The nickname rolled off your tongue so effortlessly, so perfectly. The things it was doing to him...

"I..." he could barely speak, breaths ragged. Not one coherent thought was at the forefront of his brain, other than one simple word.

"Pretty." Your smile was a little more genuine now after he said that, and you reached a hand up to tuck a little strand of hair behind your ear.

"You think I'm pretty?"

George just nodded again. It was only now that he realized how much shorter you were compared to him, as you were only a foot away from him; the closest you'd ever been. He was looking down at you, but you were, in no way, intimidated by him. It was actually quite the opposite.

"You know, Georgie, you're pretty handsome, yourself," you professed, smiling wider as George's face burned even hotter.

He couldn't even thank you, scared of what would have happened if he tried to utter any kind of response to you. You reached out to rest a hand on his arm, and your smile faltered just a little.

"You're really tense... am I making you uncomfortable?" George's eyes widened, swallowing nervously as he shook his head 'no' as quickly as he could. He didn't want-- whatever this was-- to stop. The sincere upturn of your lips returned, and George couldn't help but flit his gaze down to your lips.

If only he had as much confidence as you, he might have just dipped down to have a taste...

"Look, I don't wanna keep you any longer. I know Johnny's gonna be looking for you soon." You thought for a moment before mentioning, "usually after you boys leave, he's down there for another hour or so practicing his own songs. Come back and see me after, yeah? Get to know each other a little more?" You raised an eyebrow expectantly, and George nodded his head again.

"Okay," he managed to whisper, resulting in you rising to your toes, and wordlessly pecking him on the cheek.

He felt like he was dreaming.

"Run along now, before they get suspicious!"

George's feet, though seemingly glued to the floor moments before, took off quickly, opening the door, and disappearing out into the hallway, shutting it closed behind him. As soon as he was on his own, he sighed heavily, the rush of oxygen in his lungs making him feel light-headed.

For someone who seemed so innocent in the open, around others, George could never have guessed how much of a minx you were behind closed doors. One part of him was still in denial that his interaction with you was even real, let alone meant to be flirtatious in any way...

But man, he would have been stupid not to take you up on your offer. It was just another hour he had to spend practicing, and he'd be right back in there, hopefully earning another kiss on the cheek from you.

George looked at the lyric papers in his hands one last time before sighing one more time, and going back downstairs. He passed his forgotten water glass in the kitchen, mind on an entirely different planet.

He returned to the basement, handing John the papers. He thanked the younger boy, pausing for a second to watch him move to grab his guitar.

"Where's your glass, Harry?"

George tensed when John asked that, hand on the neck of the guitar.

"... Left it upstairs,"  he responded.

"Thought you were grabbing a refill?" John's inquiries had George grasping for what to say next, but he was quick enough.

"Refilled the glass up there, drank it, and figured I'd be fine for the rest of practice."

His confession, though a lie, was believable enough for John, who just nodded his head slowly and drew his attention to the papers after a second, discussing which song they were going to practice next.

George just flew under the radar then, and he mentally cursed himself for being so careless. He look a quick glance at Paul, who was giving him a look; almost as if he knew something happened up there.

But he would never know the truth.

The shared glance fell apart when John advised everyone to get into position for playing, and they did just that.

The hour seemed to drag, George felt; but as time moved on, the more anxious he began to feel again. By the time everyone was packing up to leave, he was almost vibrating with anxiety.

He wanted to be close to you again so badly, but he didn't want to make a fool of himself as he had in the last interaction.

Pete, Paul, and George wished John a good night, and climbed the stairs to the main floor in that order, leaving John alone to continue practicing. Pete left Paul and George in the main hallway with a little wave, and a short "see yous tomorrow," before taking off out the front door.

Paul grabbed the door handle next and turned back to George, who stood in one spot a little too far away from the door.

"... Not walking home with me?" He asked in confusion, and when George didn't have a disposable answer, the pieces seemed to be finally clicking for the other boy.

He opened his mouth as if to lecture George on how bad of an idea sticking around would be, but instead, he tightened his jaw, shook his head, and waved to him.

"G'night Harry," he tossed a little wave out before taking off into the dusk.

He was alone now.

That could only mean one thing.

George eyed the stairs, knowing that if he turned on his heel and walked out right then, it'd be one of the biggest mistakes in his life. But he couldn't deny the fact that he was nervous; intimidated by you, and your assertive, rather sexy behaviour from earlier.

He took a deep breath, grabbing the railing, and hiking up the stairs slowly.

He stood outside your bedroom door much longer than he would have liked to admit, taking deep breaths and reciting words over and over again in his brain, as if this whole interaction were scripted-- as if he knew what was going to happen.

When he finally composed himself properly, he rapped on the door gently, hoping you would hear his presence on the other side. When you finally came around to open the door, his heart skipped a beat.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming back," you voiced softly, leaning against the doorframe, handle still in hand. You sounded a little relieved, almost, seeing the boy on the other side of the threshold.

You were in your pyjamas, a set that showed enough skin on your arms and legs that it made George, red-faced, shake his head to reactivate his brain, which pretty much short circuited.

"You goin' to bed?" His words left his mouth faster than he realized he was even saying them. Sure, it was getting late out, but would you have really changed if you were expecting company?

"Well, that depends. Will you be joining me?" You were so quick on your feet in response that it honestly impressed George, the heat returning to his face as he tried to think of what to say next, not daring to drop his line of sight below your chin.

"I'm only teasing you," you laughed after a moment of watching George squirm, pushing off the doorframe and allowing him to enter your bedroom again. As he passed you, he caught sight of you gazing up his body, shrugging and adding a little "... maybe," to the end of your sentence.

You were such a tease, and George set his guitar case off to the side, facing away from you, so he could hide just how giddy and flushed he was just being in there with you again. He rose to his feet and turned to face you. You were only a few feet away from him again, eyes on him intensely, smile still present.

"... I hope you know just how glad I am that you came back," you expressed again, honestly. George raised an eyebrow at that, shoving his hands in his pockets. He wanted to tear his gaze from yours so badly, but your face was just so gorgeous to look at, and he didn't want to be caught looking at your outfit again; he knew some more teasing would surely ensue if he was caught staring.

"Why wouldn't I come back?" George replied bashfully, shrugging his shoulders a little. "Wouldn't miss a chance to be here, with you, for the world."

Your stare softened at his words, beaming as your own cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. George wasn't sure you were really expecting something like that coming from him. "... You really mean that?"

George desperately wanted to elaborate a little further, but he just settled on giving you a little nod, smiling back shyly at your question.

"Maybe I thought I might've scared you off for being so forward earlier," you admitted timidly as you turned on your heel. You took a seat at the edge of your bed, and George surveyed your movements, eyebrows lifting a little when you reached out to pat the empty space next to you on the mattress after a moment.

"Care to take a seat?"

George accepted the invitation, and you felt the bed dip when he sat down. His eyes cast down to the floor, face still red at the idea of being in your presence; having your attention.

"You know, Georgie... my brother can be pretty stupid sometimes. But making this house the place for band practice, I think, was one of the best decisions he's ever made."

His eyes met yours again at your words, and you shrugged one of your shoulders.

"I'd be lying if I said I haven't been dying to talk to you. Or get to know you. You seem so kind, and you're so attractive, and John wants to keep you away from me, and I'm so sick of him deciding what's best for me."

Your eyes cast down between the both of you for a moment, and George could feel his heart trying to leap out of his chest. His fingertips felt numb, mouth hanging slack as you continued your profession.

"I knew the only way to get close and alone with you was to bring you in here. And I saw the way you were looking at me earlier, and I had to get you to come back."

It felt like the wind was knocked out of his lungs. Was he really that obvious when he was in here last?

"It's thrilling... having a boy like you in my room, while John's clueless out there as to what we're doing. What we could be doing..."

George's mind was going places he was never expecting it to that evening, especially with the help of you voicing it aloud. He was in utter disbelief of what you were telling him, convinced he'd fallen asleep throughout the day, and he was caught in some blissful dream he wished would never end.

"I feel a little selfish, springing so much information on you at once... but every time I see you, I desperately want to be with you; and today, I had to jump to take that chance. I couldn't wait another week, another day."

You smiled sheepishly, not really expecting George to say anything after that. You were honestly just trying to get your thoughts off your chest, and now that you had, you felt a lot better. You were also pleased with the little look of shock on George's face. You liked doing that to him.

You decided to break his trance by nodding over to his guitar case sitting on the floor. "So... You have plans to serenade me, Georgie?"

Your question definitely brought him back down to earth, and he took a quick glance at the case before looking back to you. Your confession was still ringing clear in his head like a bell. He felt he didn't have the words to admit his feelings as clearly as you had right on the spot...

He did, however, have the words pre-planned as lyrics, in a multitude of original songs he wrote for you.

"... I do, actually," he agreed, standing up to open his case and retrieve his instrument. George was feeling a little more excited now, knowing any girl these days would swoon at the idea of having music written for them, and he just hoped you would too.

He returned to the bed, deciding against tossing the strap over his shoulder. He faced you so you could hear and see every little thing he did. He was at least glad he didn't get performance anxiety on the guitar.

He gently strummed out a few different notes, deciding in his head which song he wanted to perform for you. One in particular stuck out in his mind, and he couldn't deny that it was the perfect choice.

He was a little worried about how you'd feel about his playing, and the lyrics, but he wanted to show you that he could be confident about this, especially since he was nearly certain now that his feelings were reciprocated. But he had to play it cool.

"It is a work in progress. I've only half of it written, but I really think you'll like it," George explained to you before allowing the notes to fill the air around you both.

"Listen,

Do you want to know a secret?

Do you promise not to tell?

Closer,

Let me whisper in your ear,

Say the words you long to hear,

I'm in love with you."

It was only then that you realized this was the first time you'd ever seen, or heard George play. This beautiful genius was being hidden away from you this whole time, and it was a blessing to see his work up close.

His left hand slid along the fretboard so easily, thumb and fingers on his right tickling the strings as if it were second nature to him. You couldn't decide which hand you wanted to look at. His digits were skillful on the instrument, and George made sure to almost exaggerate his movements to impress you.

He pretty much had you in a trance, now, daydreaming about what else those hands could do...

"I've known a secret for a week, or two,

Nobody knows, just we two,"

George had been worried the whole song about messing up the notes, eyes so focused on where his fingers were going... But he glanced up at you, realizing how hypnotized you were, like putty in his hands, and he decided there was nothing to worry about.

He decided to sing right to you now, soft eyes on your face, and when your field of view locked with his, he knew he wouldn't dare break the stare.

"Listen,"

This wasn't a song anymore.

"Do you want to know a secret?"

This was his confession.

"Do you promise not to tell?"

His way of showing you what you really meant to him.

"Closer,"

He wasn't clouded by any insecurities or doubt anymore.

"Let me whisper in your ear,"

Your gaze flitted down just enough to watch George's canines poke out from behind his lips as he sung, and your eyelashes lowered at the sight of his beautiful mouth.

"Say the words you long to hear,"

Your mind was absorbing the lyrics like a sponge in water, every single word eliciting a feeling so strong in your heart, you could hear it pumping in your ears.

"I'm in love with you."

George hummed away as he played the final notes, a little smile still on his lips when he let the last chord ring out into a room of silence.

When that stillness remained for a moment, George couldn't help but ask with a little bit of hesitation, "Well... what do you thi--"

He couldn't even get the rest of his question out before you darted at him, lips smashing into his as if he were about to disappear forever.

He let out a little surprised hum before he pulled the guitar out from between the both of you, and you took it as an opportunity to push your body closer to him, arms wrapping around his collarbone.

He blindly set the guitar down to lean it against your bed, and when he let go of the neck of the instrument, his hands went for your hips, squeezing your sides gently before pulling you right up into his lap. your actions bloomed a type of self-assurance within him he had no idea he could even possess.

It was your turn to squeal excitedly, but George's lips on yours muffled the sound. One of his hands snaked around to the small of your back before it slipped under your shirt, his palm dragging up your spine. His fingertips took note of each vertebrae it dipped up and down into, like the frets on his guitar.

This, George decided, was better than a dream. This whole situation unfolding around him made him feel as though he died and went to heaven.

He pulled his lips away from yours, free hand reaching up to grip your chin and directing you to tilt your head up. His lips suckled on the side of your neck, and the sound coming from your mouth was absolutely euphoric to him. But he removed his palm from your chin to cover your mouth, his other hand still feeling and memorizing every curve and dip in your back.

"You must be quiet, Love. Wouldn't want your brother knowing about all this fun we're having up here, eh?" Your eyes rolled back at his words, groaning into his hand as you felt George drag his teeth gently along the column of your throat.

Knowing you were enjoying this as much as he was only brought more confidence to his actions, and he let his tongue poke out to leave a large, wet kiss on your collarbone.

You were squirming in his lap, fingers sliding up into his hair and tugging so he knew he was doing everything right.

He groaned at the friction you were creating at the hips, and he pulled away from your neck to kiss your lips again after removing his hand and placing it on the back of your neck.

You swallowed his moans as you continued to grind in his lap, but both of your movements paused when you heard the guitar come crashing down to the carpeted floor. It wasn't as loud as it could have been, but it was loud enough.

You both kept an ear out, knowing that might have caught the attention of someone downstairs, and when you began to hear footsteps shuffling around, you began to panic a little, eyes wide and darting back to George, whose face was flushed from the assault of your kisses, and hair was a tangled mess from your fingers.

"You gotta hide," you rushed out quietly, and though you tried to climb out of George's lap, his hands kept you planted right where you were.

"What are you doing?!"

"... What if I didn't?" He challenged you a little, a daring smirk at his lips.

"Had you not been so naughty, with all that moving and teasing, the guitar wouldn't have fallen, eh? And we wouldn't be in this situation at all." The points of his canines were showing again, and you groaned at his words.

"George, I'd love to continue this, but John will kill you if we're caught, and we can't do this if you're dead!"

"Well then we just won't get caught," he responded simply. He was blinded by desire, his confidence seeping out of him like sap from a tree as he placed his mouth back on your neck.

The footsteps stopped outside your door, and you both heard a knock, George not showing any sign of stopping his actions.

"Don't come in, I'm-- I'm not wearing any clothes!!" It was the first thing you could blurt out to whoever was on the other side.

"Oh, baby, that'd be a sight to see," George mumbled against your skin, pulling your top down just enough so he could suck a dark spot just above your left breast so you could easily hide it away, and you sighed heavily at the contact, face burning red.

"Just heard a loud thud. Just making sure all is okay," it was John on the other side; completely oblivious to the actual scene occurring on the other side of the door.

"Yeah, a book from my shelf was knocked over! N-nothing to worry about!"

George grabbed your chin again when you were finished talking, shoving his tongue right into your mouth as you both heard John respond with, "oh, okay. Just making sure you're alright. Have a good night."

You listened closely as the footsteps quieted, and when there was no sign of anyone else on the second floor, let alone at the door, you pulled away from George's kiss.

"Well... how was that?"

"Risky," you replied, a rather unimpressed look on your face as you unraveled your arms from George's shoulders and crossed them over your chest.

"Well, you don't have to worry about him anymore, Love," he tried to give you another kiss, but you placed your fingers against his lips. It was your turn to smirk mischievously.

"You know what, Georgie... I think you've had enough action for tonight."

You could see the smug grin fall right off George's face as you removed your hand. Surely you had to have been joking. But when you pushed a little to get off him, his arms fell to his side, a little pout on his face.

"You're serious? Love, you got me all hot and bothered..."

"George, you really thought we were going to go all the way tonight with other people in the house?" You laughed out loud at that; and when you said it like that, he would have had to agree that it did sound ridiculous.

"Trust me, Georgie, I want to," you placed a hand on his cheek in comfort, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, and he looked up at you as if he was the shy boy you interacted with just an hour before.

"But we both know doing that in an empty house would be far better than having to keep quiet about it, huh?"

All George could do was imagine that situation, eyes drifting shut, and tilting his head into your caressing hand.

"You're such a damn tease," he mumbled, eyes blinking back open after a moment.

"All good things come to those who wait," was all you said, leaving one, sweet kiss on his lips before pulling away, and nodding to his guitar. "We better pack you up and send you home."

You watched as George situated himself, placing his guitar back in the case, closing it and picking it up. You wrapped your arms around him gently, planting another kiss on his cheek.

"By the way... I think that song was beautiful," you whispered to him, and when you pulled away to see him smiling at you, you couldn't help but match the grin on your own lips.

"See you next week? Same time?"

"You don't even have to tell me twice," George responded with, and you just had to lean in for one more smooch on the lips, to which he eagerly reciprocated.

He then opened your window up, and took a step out. You watched as he climbed down the corner of the house slowly, and before he took off down the road, he blew you a kiss, to which you mimicked catching with your hand.

As George headed home, the sun now fallen over the horizon, those intimate moments he shared with you were at the very forefront of his mind. His hands could still feel your bare skin under his fingertips, and his mouth tingled as he remembered what it was like to have your lips on his.

He was just craving for the next moment he had alone with you.

______________________________________

A/A/N: And there we are! hope you all enjoy this, and I hope your Easter weekend was full of sun, and fun! Please let me know if you want to read more so I know it' worth it to post!

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Daylight

Ron Anderson x Abraham's daughter!reader

Warnings: (spoilers, ron lives au, reader is a daddys girl, reader is called tater tot by abraham, ron is a puppy for reader, make outs, boners, ron is referred as puppy way too many times, overprotective dad abraham, my first time writing ron he will be ooc)

Word count: 2k

The sound of the blade stabbing into the wet earth was heavy and deafening in the teen's ears. Hate and anger ran through his veins, like a raging river with a dangerous current.

“Stupid stupid stupid stupid.” He hissed, glaring down at the broken grass, trying to ignore the tears welling in his eyes.

Ron's eyes narrowed when he saw a pair of boots, letting his gaze rake up to see who the hell was interrupting his private time. When his hazel eyes met your eyes, he tried to ignore the skip of his heart.

“What're you doin'?” You asked, hand on your hip, fingers digging into the fabric of your jeans.

Ron sat up, clearing his throat, eyes darting to the side. “...nothing.”

A soft scoff left your mouth, shaking your head with a small laugh. “Sure, dude. Looks like you're attempting manslaughter on the dirt.”

The boy stood up, wiping the blade off on his jeans, refusing to look you in the eyes. Ron was obsessed with you, he knew it was probably bad since he was still with Enid when you two met, but now she was running off with that stupid Grimes kid. But now it didn't matter, Enid no longer liked Ron, so he was in the green to go after a new girl.

“...well I'm going to…go.” You awkwardly pointed your thumb back towards Abraham who was waiting a little ways.

“U-um, yeah. Bye.” Ron blurted out, nervously running his fingers through the slightly greasy dark blond locks of his.

“Bye.”

Ron watched you walk away with longing eyes, looking like a puppy whose owner was leaving for work. A small growl emitted from the back of his throat, throwing the knife to the side, hands flying to his hair to pull at it. He glared at your and Abraham's backs, watching him give you a teasing little push on the back of head. It made Ron bristle when he saw your father jokingly push you, just to play around, but it scared Ron.

Maybe Abraham was like Pete.

No!

You were raised perfectly, you were a little daddy's girl. He couldn't be a drunk asshole like Ron's father. It made Ron almost jealous. That you could be yourself around your dad, that you weren't scared or flinchy around him.

You wouldn't like Ron how he liked you. You just couldn't. You were perfect compared to Ron. You were a beautiful girl, he was just a stupid, troubled boy. You were the sweetest girl, out of his league by miles.

Ron thought you were a little spoiled, dead weight to the group, but you did come back to Alexandria covered in walker blood after killing one with a tire iron you had found. Abraham didn't stop bragging and proudly telling that same damn story about you bashing a walker's head in. He was a very proud dad after that day.

~

Ron held his knees to his chest, cheeks dusted pink with embarrassment and pain while he sat in the tub, feeling you gently rub the walker blood from his back with the rag.

“...aren't you mad at me for trying to kill your friend?” Ron hesitantly asked, staring down at the bloodied water.

The gentle sigh you let out made Ron sigh too, looking over at you with those pathetic little puppy dog eyes. Your gentle eyes stared into his sad ones, obviously trying to think for the right response to his sad question.

“...I'm upset, yeah…” you trailed off, draining the water and grabbing the shower head, bringing it down, “Put your head back.”

Ron obeyed. Of course he did. You could tell him to lick your fucking shoes and he would. Closing his eyes, he felt the water jet onto his hair, before you carefully set the head down and grabbed the shampoo from the side of the bathtub.

Squirting a good amount of soap in your open palm, getting the suds to appear while you rubbed your hands together. You massaged the foam into his hair, alternating between rubs and little drags of your blunt nails.

“I'm sorry about your mom and brother…” you mumbled softly, pressing a soft kiss to his wet shoulder.

Ron was trembling- both with excitement from your kiss and concealed sobs. Tears slowly welled, rolling down his cheeks, his breath shaky.

The event replayed in Ron's head. Mom and Sam getting ate alive by walkers, Rick chopping off mom's arm with his hatchet, aiming the gun at Carl, you pushing Michonne away from him before she could stab him.

You saved him after he attempted to kill your best friend.

Small sobs left his lips freely while you rinsed his hair, almost hyperventilating.

You frowned, tears in your eyes, turning the water off and pulling his wet head against your chest while he clung to you. Your shirt was soaked from his wet, now dark hair, nimble fingers clinging to the cotton fabric.

God. He loves you. He loves you so fucking much. He was a fucking puppy, wanting to be doused in your affection and love. Be drowned in attention from you. Never leave your side. Make sure you're safe.

“D-don't leave.” Ron pleaded through sobs, staring up at you through wet lashes. “Everyone leaves me. P-please don't.”

“I– I won't. I promise. I won't leave.” you promised, holding the back of his head.

~

You and Ron sat on your bed together, playing go fish together. You looked up when you heard the door open, the familiar voice ringing out.

“Tater tot?! Baby?! I'm home! Everything is okay!” Abraham called, obviously terrified that you went through the horde breaking through the walls without him.

You stood up in a small panic, quickly pressing your finger to your lips and walking out of your room. Ron stared down at your deck of cards, before lifting them up to see what cards you had.

“Daddy?” You greeted, walking down the stairs, and immediately got engulfed by Abraham, feet off the floor while he gave you a bone crushing hug.

Pressed his face in your hair, he pressed a kiss on the side of your head. “You’re okay…you're okay. Thank God…”

Abraham was always soft around you. He had the biggest soft spot for you. His little tater tot.

~

You sat on the couch in Rick's house, confused why everyone wanted you over.

“...what's up guys?” You asked, leaning back into the couch, looking at everyone.

Rick had a hardened look on his face, arms crossed against his chest. “The boy. Where is he?”

You stood up immediately, ready to shoot this whole “intervention” down. Abraham grabbed your hand and gently tugged you back down into your seat next to his.

“...this is for your own good, baby girl.” Abraham rubbed your knuckles with his thumb. His bigger hand always swallowed yours.

You let out an annoyed scoff, “What?! You guys are acting like I'm a fucking junkie–”

“Language.” Abraham cut you off, a stern look across his features, but his eyes still soft.

Rick looked up at the ceiling for a second, looking back down at you, “Ron tried to kill my son. He's a danger to you. To everyone else in Alexandria.”

That was stupid logic. Ron had every right to be upset with the Grimes. He had just watched his mother and baby brother die in front of him–

“I found ‘im!” Daryl called out, walking into the room, dragging Ron in by the back of his shirt.

You sat up, glaring at Rick, before looking back at Abraham. “You let him in my bedroom?! You let him in our house!?”

It was a complete invasion of privacy. Especially on a teenage girl. Just sending someone into her room all willy nilly?! Did Abraham not think?! Was he stupid?!

“Found the little bastard- stay still!- in the crawl space!” Daryl exclaimed, pushing Ron towards Rick.

The pure panic that shot through you when Rick pulled his gun out, pointing it at Ron was almost heart shattering. You could see that his finger was not on the trigger, but the muzzle was pressed between Ron's eyes.

“Woah! We can talk this out!” You tried to meditate, standing up and gently tugging on Ron's arm. Ron immediately latched on you, glaring at Rick, acting all tough like he wasn't hiding behind you.

~

It took a lot of negotiating, but you managed to get Rick to let bygones be bygones. To let Ron reside in Alexandria. Unfortunately, Ron was given tons of chores to make up for the attempted murder on Carl.

You sat on the crate, watching Ron tend to zucchini plants. Weeding around them, pulling off the ripe zucchinis, watering the plants.

“Look at you. A little farmer boy.” You teased, leaning forward on your hands.

Ron looked up, glaring at you. “Shut up. I don't see you helping– ow! Fuck! Why are these stupid wannabe cucumbers spiky?!”

You let out a soft laugh, standing up and walking over to him. He stared up at you, on his knees, eyes resembling a sad puppy's. He held his index finger in his left hand, clutching it tightly, still grimacing from the little prick of the plant.

Ron gently rested his chin against your tummy, staring up at you with adoring eyes. “...I love you.”

“Love you too, baby.” You hummed, rubbing the soft dirty-blond hair, enjoying the new found softness since you allowed him to shower with you. It was his favorite part of the night, showering with you after your father went to bed or went on guard duty.

“No no no! Not too close!” Abraham yelled out from the platform against the wall, having been watching you two more than guarding.

~

You sat in Ron's lap, letting him press those sweet, eager little kisses on your neck and jaw. Ron wanted a little break from taking care of the crops, opting for a make out session. His favorite way to take a break.

His soft, slightly chapped lips met yours in a gentle kiss, his thumbs rubbing hearts on your hips, tongue poking out to tease your bottom lip. Ron would beg for entrance if he had to, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it– well, yeah. He wouldn't tell that to anyone but you.

Fingers carded in his hair, you tilted his head to the side a little, parting your lips for him. Ron practically whined, letting his tongue press against yours in an intimate caress. He tried to ignore the small tent in his jeans, focusing his attention on making sure you know just how much he loves you.

God. Ron could make out with forever he got the choice. The feeling of your lips against his, tongues rubbing against one another, drool from the corner of your mouths. It got him so fucking hot and–

“Hey! I don't want a grandbaby! Knock it off!” Abraham yelled from the platform, obviously pissed off from Ron's grabby hands and curious mouth.

You both pulled away abruptly, you climbing off of Ron's lap while he rubbed the spit from his lips. Ron tried to hide his disappointment, subtly shifting to adjust himself. You awkwardly cleared your throat, trying to diminish the embarrassment in the air.

“I'm, uh, I'm going to go see if Olivia needs help at the pantry. I'll– I'll see you later?” You started to back away, rubbing the back of your head while Ron stood up.

“Y-yeah! Um, later. Have fun.” Ron looked to the side, back at the fucking plants that needed so much assistant. You'd think for things that can create oxygen, they'd be more resilient.

Ron met your eyes with a small, goofy smile. God, you were the prettiest thing he's seen in his whole life. And you were his girlfriend? Never wake him up from this dream come true. Everything was perfect besides the occasional threat he got from Rick or Michonne.

“Bye baby.” You bid your little farewell, giving him a small wave before walking off.

Ron stood starstruck, watching you walk away– admiring you as you walked away. You were almost a block away already when Ron snapped back into it.

“Bye!”

I HATE THIS MOVIE

I literally can't watch it without crying this isn't fair.

Anytime Tod or Alex look slightly sad my eyes start watering.

The one scene where all of their parents come and get them makes me cry too it's actually so sad.

rob roberts art dump

I've been so fixated on like 6 chad donella roles I owe my life to my mootie Anna for feeding me edits 😭🤞

tod and alex annoy george at his hypothetical job

Lowkey me I don’t even know what we’re doing in math class rn

can i get stepsibling smut (not blood related) between steven adler x reader pls. 🤤🤤🤤 pretty pretty pls. I'm dying😭 i need my kinky smut helpp me out🥲

ur wish is my command :3

☠︎︎ 𝔦𝔱’𝔰 𝔰𝔬 𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔶 ☠︎︎

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

--------------------------------------------------------------

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, stepbro!steven x stepsis! reader, rough sex, stepsibling kink, slight overstimulation?, jealousy, if i missed anything hmu, otherwise happy reading :3

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You and Steven never really got along.

You were mostly forced to because your parents were out on date nights damn near every weekend, so you two were left alone pretty frequently. He was pretty cute, but you thought it was weird to think this way, so you quickly brushed it off.

He never really looked at you unless he needed to ask you a question, like 'what time is it?' but even when you weren't looking, his big blue eyes burned a hole in the back of your head, and the thought of it made you cheeks heat up, but you didn't think much of it. He brought his band over, and they always shared some wandering eyes. You never really thought much of it, until you noticed Steven was too, and he looked a bit jealous when they did. You didn't fit the puzzle pieces together well, and just assumed he was being protective.

You were watching a movie, until you noticed his band leaving, "Later, Y/N." Izzy said, as he was the last one to head out and shut the door behind him. Steven came downstairs to the kitchen while you were just getting up from the couch to get something to drink because the popcorn made you thirsty and your movie was nearing it's end. Steven went to grab a snack from the cupboard while you went to the fridge. You didn't really think much and ignored him until he asked you a question.

"Did you like it when the guys stared at you?"

You froze, cheeks heating up to a candy red. You slowly turned around to face him, and there he was, staring right into your eyes expectantly. "What?" you said shakily. He inched closer, "Yes or no? Did you like it when the guys stared at you? Or did you like when I stared at you?" He said boldly, his face getting closer to yours on the last part. Your legs were shaking, before you gathered up courage to say, "just you."

His lips curled to a devious smirk before they crashed down onto yours. You were surprised but quickly melted into it, he turned you around and backed you up onto the island. Your tongues explored what they could, and teeth sometimes clashed, "Jump." he mumbled against your lips. You did so, and he carried you upstairs to your bedroom with ease. He dropped you down on your back and rested a bit of his weight on you, pressing his raging hard-on against your clothed heat. You let a soft moan out and bucked your hips involuntarily, ripping a grunt from him.

He lifted your shirt up and quickly unclipped your bra to feast on your breasts. He took one nipple between his thumb and index, while his tongue flicked on the other. You let out a whine, your hands gripping the back of his head. "So perfect..." He mumbled against your breast. He moved back up and went to undo his belt buckle. He let his jeans fall, his hard cock springing free and hitting his abdomen. He got back on top of you and lifted your hips to pull down your shorts.

"Are you ready for me, doll?"

He asked for confirmation, you nod in response, and he lined himself up with your entrance before slowly thrusting in. You gasped and tilted your head back from the pleasure-pain. He stopped and looked up at you for permission to start moving, to which you nod. When you nodded, he pulled out until just the tip was in, before he bottomed out again, a bulge forming in your stomach as he does so. You let out a loud moan, which seems to spur him on.

Soon enough, he's slamming to the hilt inside you roughly over and over, making you let out whiny moans and cries as he slams against your g-spot continuously. The pleasure is almost overwhelming, and you can't get enough. Tears of pleasure won't stop streaming down your cheeks as you get driven closer to your orgasm. "Fuck! S-Steven! m'so close, please!" You cry out, squeezing around him, eliciting a deep moan from him, "Cum for me, sweetheart." He says breathlessly, causing him to roll his head back and speed his actions up. This drives you over the edge, the fiery knot in your gut snapping vigorously as you squirt all over his lower stomach.

He continues to fuck you, but slows down, letting you ride out the aftershocks, all while he chases his own release. "Fuuuck, m'gonna cum." He groans out, he speeds up a bit, causing you to whine and cry out. You're still sensitive after the intense orgasm you had, his thrusts causing you to shake and squeeze around him. He lets out more of a higher-pitched moan as he spills his all inside you. He stays where he is inside you until the aftershocks of his orgasm are done sending convulses through him, causing his heavy load to spill out of you a bit. He pulls out while breathing heavily. He lies down next to you, letting you curl up to him. You just sit in silence until he asks you,

"Wanna do this again sometime?"

You giggle and softly hit his chest, but you eventually answered.

"Sure."

It's safe to say that you and Steven got along a lot better than you did before.

did i cook or did i flop guys ? 💔

chad donella nation (oomfs specifically) we should all be friends i want to be able to talk abt his movies with more than just one person and also i need more people to tell me What to watch for him because his filmography is long enough to scare me but short enough to manage. sigh

there arnt tod waggner x reader fics....just why?

tod waggner + squ- *gunshots*

yippeeeee yahoo :D todder. yeas

Tod Waggner x Fem!AFAB!reader

WORD COUNT: 856

WARNINGS: nsfw, missonary, praise, squirting, promise of a creampie, soft!dom tod but, the smallest hint of bossy!tod. kinda proofread.

Tod’s head tilts forwards as he groans, sinking into your cunt. “Holy shit,” he mutters, swallowing heavily as he bottoms out, your walls clenching around him as you adjust to his size. “I forgot how fucking tight you are, you know that?” He grins as he leans over top of you, planting a few soothing kisses along your cheek and jaw.

“You say that everytime, Tod,”

“Well, that’s because it’s true everytime!”

“Right,” your snarky comment is cut off with a gasp as he begins to pull out, a shiver running down your spine. His thrusts are agonizingly slow, pulling out until just the tip of his cock remained before pushing in until he bottomed out, repeating it over and over again until you felt dizzy. His hands roamed your body slowly, fingertips light as they drag along your flesh, goosebumps rising in their wake. “Y-you can go faster.”

Tod laughs under his breath as you stumble over your words, his hips rolling forwards a little harder, a little faster, just enough to pull a moan from you. “Like that?” He asks, his tone smug as he speeds up, the sound of your wetness filling the room. He tilts his head, the vein in his neck protruding slightly as you clench around him. “I’ve been meaning to see if I can get you to do something for me. You know, while I fuck you?” 

“Wh-what is it?”

“You’ll see.” His normally sweet smile has a sinister edge to it now but you can’t focus on that when his thrusts have evolved into the perfect momentum and pace. Your legs spread a little wider for him, your eyes closing as you focus on the pleasure building in your gut. “Don’t you hold anything back on me, okay?” Tod whispers in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. You vaguely register yourself nodding in response, though he could have said anything and you would’ve agreed. “Good girl, c’mon, then. Let yourself cum, don’t feel embarrassed. I got you, alright?”

The praise dripped off his tongue with ease, helping push the pleasure higher up your gut when you feel the pads of his fingertips press against your clit. Your body jolts, your legs attempting to squeeze shut but his body is in the way. Tod stares at you, gauging your reaction as his fingers quickly fall into pace with his thrusts. The mix of pressure rockets you to your orgasm, and Tod grins as you grab tightly onto his forearms, a whimper tumbling from your parted lips. “Fuck! Oh shit, Tod-”

“That’s it,” he coos, his breath catching in his throat at your body's reaction. “You better fucking cum, alright? And I want you to make a mess all over me, got it?” His voice is low, cracking. He’s trying to remain in control without begging you to do what he wants. “Don’t you fucking pull away from me.” He snaps as your eyes squeeze shut, your body tensing. “I know you can do it, baby. Be good and squirt all over me okay? I promise I’ll push right back in, okay baby? I won’t leave your pretty little pussy empty for too long, but you’re only getting it after you make a mess, okay?”

His words make your head swim and once again you nod, swallowing heavily as you focus on the feeling of his cock pumping in and out of you at a quick pace, his fingers rubbing quick circles on your clit, the feel of his free hand grabbing onto your thigh and digging his nails into it as if he were afraid you’d disappear. “I-I’m, oh fuck, Todd, I’m cumming!” You cry out, head rolling backwards as your orgasm, the hardest one you’ve had by far, rips through your body. Tod pulls out as your legs begin to shake, his fingers moving back and forth quickly. A gush of liquid covers his fingers and bedsheets and you can barely make out his pleased laugh over the thumping of your heart. 

“O-okay, stop,” you say weakly and Tod removes his fingers from your clit with a small huff. You stare up at the ceiling, your face heating up from the knowledge of what you had done. The bed moves as Tod repositions himself between your legs and you weakly sit up onto your elbows, looking down at his cock before glancing up at him. “What’re you-”

“Shhh,” he says with a smirk, glancing away from your face to your cunt and the soaked bed sheets underneath you, his face pleased. “You listened like a good girl, just like I knew you would. So, I’m giving you what you wanted, remember? My cum?” Tod tsks playfully, swiping his cock through your drenched folds, making you shiver. “Don’t tell me you changed your mind, baby?” Your legs wrap weakly around his waist, urging him to push inside, and he snorts, leaning forward to plant a kiss on the tip of your nose. “That’s what I thought. You did so good for me, Y/N. Just a little bit longer and I’ll get you all cleaned up, okay?”

(requests are closed - im finishing up ft13 requests!)

HEY ITS UR BESTIE💥💥

I saw a gif of George smoking on Twitter and it made me go crazy so I would like to request some smut with George that involves shotgunning maybe? I just hate that the Beatles look really good when they smoke 😩😩

𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑 | george harrison x reader

𐙚 contains ; nsfw!! minors dni! female anatomy, shotgunning

𐙚 summary ; it’s late, george has a joint, you’ve got your legs in his lap. things escalate the way they always do: with smoke, smirks, and that filthy mouth of his.

𐙚 note ; you are so RIGHT for this. george smoking and that lazy lil smirk?! BUSSAANUUUTTT!! i’d ruin my life!!! ARGG!!!

It’s after midnight when he pulls the joint from behind his ear like a magician revealing his final trick, sly grin catching the low light.

You’re cross-legged on the floor in one of his shirts, legs bare, feet cold on the old rug. His fingers are in your hair, lazy. He likes touching you when he’s high. Likes touching you when he’s not. Either way, you end up in his lap more often than not.

George flicks the lighter with a little snap of his thumb and leans back against the old sofa with a satisfied groan. His hair's falling into his eyes, a little damp at the nape. His shirt’s unbuttoned halfway down, collar loose, chest showing just enough to distract you.

“Y’ever done this?” he asks, cocking a brow as he brings the joint to his mouth, lighting it. “Properly, I mean.”

You blink. “Weed?”

He exhales. The smoke curls out in lazy streams, curling around his tongue. He lets it drift toward the ceiling. “Shotgunnin’.”

You cough out a laugh. “Like kissing?”

“Sort of.” He takes another drag, long and deep, holds it in his lungs, then reaches out and hooks a finger under your chin. His voice is velvet-dark. “Let me show you.”

You let him pull you in, knees sliding across the rug until you're between his thighs. His hand cups your jaw, thumb tracing your cheek.

“Open,” he says.

You do.

He leans in close, nose brushing yours, and exhales directly into your mouth. You inhale out of instinct, your lips parting wider around the breath he gives you, warm and thick with smoke. It tastes like him, sharp and earthy and faintly minty from his gum.

His mouth is still there when you breathe out, lips ghosting yours. The contact lingers. He watches you, eyes half-lidded.

“There y’go,” he murmurs. “Not bad, eh?”

You shake your head a little, dizzy from the rush and the heat. “Do it again.”

He grins, slow and knowing.

The next time, he presses his mouth to yours as he exhales, proper now, the kiss lingering as the smoke fills your chest. He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth on the exhale and lets it go with a little tsk.

“You’re gonna make me fuckin’ wreck you if you keep lookin’ at me like that,” he mumbles, hand dropping to your thigh.

Your voice comes out hoarse. “Who says I’m not already wrecked?”

His mouth twitches. Then he sets the joint down in the ashtray on the windowsill, not even bothering to stub it out. His attention’s fully on you now, his eyes flicking down to your lips, then to your neck, your bare thighs bunched under his shirt.

“You sittin’ there in my clothes, beggin’ for it with your eyes, what am I meant to do, eh?” he asks, rough now, one hand dragging slowly up your inner thigh. “You gettin’ off on it? Bein’ smoked out?”

You nod without thinking. He laughs under his breath, but it sounds more like a growl. His hand reaches the hem of the shirt, fingers skating up under it, warm and calloused.

“God, you’re unreal. Warm everywhere.“

You whimper when he touches you properly. His palm cups you through your underwear, firm pressure making your hips jump. His fingers are cold against the thin fabric. He grins, filthy.

“You are wet. Knew it.”

He shifts on the couch, spreading his thighs wider. His hands find your waist and tug you forward until you're straddling his lap, breath coming fast.

You rut against him, shameless. He’s hard in his trousers, and the friction sends heat racing through your spine.

But then he pauses, one hand slipping to your lower back to still you, the other moving down between your bodies, his brow furrowed with something more urgent now. “Hold on.”

He leans back just enough to unfasten his trousers, quick and practiced, lifting his hips to shove them down along with his briefs. His cock springs free, flushed and already wet at the tip from how long he’s been grinding against you through all that teasing. He kicks the pants off completely, a little clumsily, with one heel catching on the fabric for a second before they fall forgotten to the floor. Then he’s bare beneath you, hot skin against yours, not even a whisper between you now.

“There,” he breathes, exhaling like it’s a relief. His eyes drag over your body like he’s memorizing the view.

He yanks your shirt over your head, “Off,”

The cotton bunches under your arms for a moment, dragged clumsily over your head, and then you’re bare before him in the amber haze of his flat, skin flushed from heat and smoke and the way his eyes are raking over every inch of you like he’s starving. His pupils are blown wide. He doesn’t even try to hide the way his gaze drags down your chest to your stomach, your thighs straddled over his, the sharp hitch in your breath.

He exhales hard through his nose, reverent. “Look at you...”

His hands find your stomach, thumbs grazing upward until his palms cup your chest, gentle at first, then more possessive. He’s got that look again, quiet and intense, like you’re not even real, like he can’t quite believe you’re letting him touch you.

You lean in and press your mouth to his, slow, at first. Not demanding. You kiss him like you’re trying to feed him something warm. He breathes through his nose, arms wrapping tight around your waist, and it’s only when you grind your hips down over the hard line of his cock that he breaks the kiss with a moan.

“Y’drive me mad when you do that,” he mumbles against your jaw, teeth grazing.

You do it again, on purpose, and his head drops to your shoulder as his hips buck once, involuntary. You feel the tremor in his thighs beneath you.

“I’m gonna take these off,” he mutters, already pushing at your underwear. “Right now.”

You lift yourself up just enough for him to pull the last of the fabric down and off. Then you’re skin to skin, his hands on your hips, and your breath catches when the head of his cock brushes the inside of your thigh.

He doesn’t move to fuck you yet. Just sits there, breathing heavily, eyes tracing every inch of you like he’s afraid he’ll forget. His fingers rub slow circles into your hips.

“You alright?” you ask, voice small.

His eyes flick up to meet yours. He nods.

“Just…” He swallows. “You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous like this. Can’t believe I get to have you.”

Your heart clenches.

And then he grins, all mischief again. “Can’t believe you’re naked in my lap and still let me get high first.”

You laugh, sharp and warm. “You’re the one who started it.”

He reaches for the joint again, wedged in the ashtray on the sill. Lights it, takes a long drag, his head tilted back just enough to expose his throat. There’s a thin sheen of sweat there, glinting in the dim light.

You lean forward, hand curled around his neck, and tilt his face to yours.

His mouth quirks. He leans in and exhales slowly between your parted lips, hot smoke curling down your throat, into your chest. You choke on it slightly, cough once into the kiss, and he smiles against your mouth.

“Not used to takin’ it like that, eh?”

You narrow your eyes and lick his bottom lip, slow and deliberate. “Try me.”

That gets a groan out of him.

He sets the joint aside once again and suddenly grips your waist, guiding you upward. The heat of his cock nudges your entrance, thick, flushed, slicked already from how long he’s been grinding up against you.

You sink down slow, inch by inch, and his face breaks.

His mouth falls open, brows knit tight. “Oh, Jesus,”

You both stay still once you’re seated fully, breath trembling. He’s so deep it aches. You can feel his heart beating against your chest, fast and heavy.

Your hips roll. He gasps.

You start moving then, slowly, deliberately, riding him with a rhythm that makes your whole body sing. George’s hands grip your waist like he’s anchoring himself, guiding your movements just enough to drive himself crazy.

“Fuck, look at you,” he rasps. “Gonna ruin me.”

You smile through your panting. “Maybe that’s the idea.”

His head tilts back against the couch, throat exposed. You lean forward and suck at the base of his neck, leaving teeth and spit behind. His moan rips through the room.

Your rhythm builds. The slap of skin on skin. The soft creak of the couch. The obscene sound of you both, slick and loud and utterly unbothered by the world outside.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he groans. “Squeezin’ me like you want to make me come first.”

You nod, dizzy with it. “I do.”

You cry out as his fingers find your clit again, slick and aching, and rub in tight, desperate circles, no preamble, no tease, just pressure and intent. Your body jerks like a livewire under him, your thighs trembling where they’re spread wide over his hips, and your nails dig harder into his shoulders, half in reflex, half to anchor yourself as the pleasure coils in your gut like a fuse burning fast toward detonation.

He feels it. Hears it in your breath going ragged. Sees it in your eyes, glazed and fluttering.

“C’mon,” he pants, mouth hot and damp against your jaw, his thrusts going ragged and deep, cock dragging over every swollen nerve inside you. “Come on my cock. Come for me, yeah?”

You try to answer, but your throat won’t obey, only a breathless moan escapes, high and breaking. Your stomach clenches. Then the dam bursts.

It slams through you, full-body, spine arching, thighs tightening around his waist, pussy clamping down around him so tight he nearly sobs.

Your voice is cracked, lost in the wave cresting through you. You shake as it hits, hips jerking helplessly, every nerve lit and sparking. You don’t come, you're torn apart by it. Pleasure snaps and floods, fast and hard, overwhelming.

George doesn’t stop. Not for a second. His fingers keep working your clit, slick with your come now, and his cock keeps thrusting into your pulsing cunt like he’s chasing your orgasm into the very center of you, like he wants to grind it deeper, make it last.

You moan again, this time more guttural, overstimulated, legs shaking. He fucks through it, voice low and wrecked in your ear.

“You’re squeezin’ me so tight-bloody hell, you’re still comin’, aren’t you?”

You nod, more of a twitch, really, and he laughs, low and breathless, mouth open against your cheek.

“You’re perfect."

You can’t move, limp and boneless now, gasping. But he’s relentless. He grabs your hips, slick fingers sinking in, and fucks up into you with a new kind of urgency, fast and filthy and deep enough to punch the air from your lungs. You groan, brain molten, still twitching from aftershocks.

“You gonna let me fill you up now?” he mutters, teeth grazing your cheek, his voice all gravel and heat.

You nod again, weak, eyes rolling back.

He groans as he chases his own edge, every muscle straining, his thrusts turning erratic, hips jerking up into you with raw, gasping intensity.

He spills inside you with a shout, hips bucking, cock throbbing deep in your cunt as he fills you up, thick and hot. He bites into your shoulder to muffle the sound, growling low as he empties himself in pulsing waves.

You both shudder together, bodies clinging, sweat-slick and trembling.

He doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t move. Just holds you there, buried deep, breath ragged against your neck. His arms loop tight around your back, as if afraid to let you go, like he’s still feeling you from the inside.

You collapse against him, cheek to his chest, the rhythm of his heart hammering under your ear.

He kisses your temple, soft now. Reverent.

The room smells like sex and weed and sweat. The joint’s ember still glows faintly in the ashtray, forgotten. Everything around you hums with the thick, slow buzz of too much, too much pleasure, too much need, too much love.

You breathe in. Exhale with a shaky laugh. Your cunt’s still fluttering around him, twitching with the echo of your orgasm.

“Wanna do it again,” you mumble, voice wrecked and dreamy.

George lets out a strangled laugh, pulling you closer like you’re his favorite drug.

“Let me catch my fuckin’ breath, you ruddy maniac.”

taglist: @sharksausages, @wavvytin, @wimpyvamps, @finallyforgotten, @lennongirlieee, @alanangels, @wisepainterprince

Hii im not sure if you’re taking requests rn, but Im going to just in case bc i absolutely love your writing!!

You feel like the kind of author that needs smut to have a backstory or at least a solid dynamic to be established between the characters, which I can absolutely relate to, so I was thinking maybe Izzy and the childhood best friend trope? I’m not sure if that’s your cup of tea but I love it when there’s a certain tenderness to two people having known each other for song long and then discovering this new side to their relationship.

Maybe they knew each other back in Indiana, but then he moved and they didn’t see each other for a couple years, and then they bump into each other in LA? Idk it’s all up to you, you’re fantastic at writing real chemistry and unique tropes so I don’t want to ruin this by babbling too much.

missing stradlin - izzy stradlin fic

taglist: @brokenglassb1tch @californiaahunny @tranquilitybasegrunge @slashes-strings @dazecrea

content: smut (18+), slight angst, mostly romantic

a/n: babe, after all that love for my writing in that ask? HOW COULD I NOT WRITE FOR YOU ASAP?! I’m extremely flattered that you love my chemistry writing, I try so hard T_T I tried extra hard for you here, I can tell we're very alike! Hope you love it anon!

tag an izzy lover <3

It was the kind of night in Los Angeles that felt like it would come undone before you if you just breathed too hard. The air was warm, dizzy air thick with gasoline and jasmine, the infectious air that poured out the nearby incense shop overwhelming her senses each time she passed. 

“You’re in LA, and close to the bar.” it’d tell her, apparently yuppy-filled enough to have a running essential oil/crystal shop on damn near every corner. It was a humbling feeling, the jump from Indiana, where the fanciest joint was the restaurant of the local Inn. At least that was true back then, her little friends used to agree with that exact sentiment. Here she was, where we have enough money to spend on pretty rocks that don’t do jack, that’s what Momma told her about LA at least.

The bar was buried somewhere off Melrose, a place that didn’t advertise, didn’t care to. Its name was half-burned out in neon lights. The lighting was low, the music was loud, and the scent of sweat and old beer didn’t change no matter what state she chased her high. It lived in bars, and that made her feel right at home no matter how far she was from Indiana. At least for a moment. 

She hadn’t expected anything from the night, maybe a cheap whiskey. Maybe a guy who’d nod too hard at anything she played on her acoustic. Physically egging her to finish the song until he’d take off her pants. What did sex mean anymore? What did anything?

She felt like she had missed the Get-Big-And-Out-Of-Indiana bus, ever since high school. Her two best friends weren’t Bill or Jeffrey anymore. With their new shiny titles, she questioned if that part of her– no, their past had existed. Knowing every damn thing about them, knowing them long enough to remember how bad they were at singing or guitar back then? Had that even existed in comparison to what those two became now?

She traveled endlessly, searching for nothing and something all at once. Bars. Sex. Smoke. She wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but to chase a familiar feeling. The comfort of both her Momma’s garage with their ruckus, but aged, grown up to a loud bar. It just wasn’t her guys though, no matter how talented the performing acts were. 

Never admitting that she yearned to find them, outright. Cause she knew the possible rejection of forgetting her would ache like their absence tenfold. Finding the adjacent was fine, she’d convinced herself. 

Karaoke nights at the bar, she’d sing whatever she felt like. Just to feel how she felt when her only friends did, who felt like more of a crowd on their own than a bar full of twits. A few people clapped. A guy in the back whistled. But she wasn’t really singing for them. 

She was trying to shake the feeling that someone was listening.

Watching, even.

When she stepped off the stage, disappointed yet again in the lack of high, her hand around her chipping Yamaha, she saw him.

At first she thought her mind was playing a cruel trick. Reminding her of what she failed to find bar to bar, a flicker of a memory projected onto the crowd by the hum of the audience and stage lights. No. He was real.

Leaning against the far wall in a denim jacket that looked like it’d seen a stage or ten, one foot across the other, a cigarette between his fingers and an unmistakable bore in his eyes. 

Jeffrey. 

Izzy.

He didn’t move. Just looked at her like he was trying to decide if she was a dream or a ghost.

She swallowed. Her body moved before her brain could catch up.

“Jeffrey?” she said quietly, approaching him like he might vanish if she was too loud. “Izzy?” she squinted up at him, the title unfamiliar in her mouth.

His big eyes blinked slowly. “Shit.”

It wasn’t much. But there was something tender behind it, like the wind had been knocked out of him.

“It’s you,” he said after a moment. Voice low. Familiar. 

She half smiled, unsure if she wanted to laugh or cry. “Yeah… whatever though. It’s you, though.” 

“You look…” he trailed off, eyes scanning her like he didn’t know where to start. “Different. But sure as hell not.” That was him alright, he couldn’t muster up something outright sweet to save his life.

Senior prom, he gawked at her all night but all he could choke up was that her hair looked “Bigger than usual.”

“Well, it’s been what? Five years? Six?” 

“Closer to seven,” he murmured confidently, like he’d counted every one. 

They both ended up in a booth in the back. A tiny red candle flickered between them in a cloudy glass holder. She had her guitar case at her feet. Izzy’s beer stood untouched.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she admitted after a while.

“I looked for you,” he said, almost too quickly. Then he cleared his throat. “Both me and Axl, or… Bill? When we first got out here, you were still back at home. I figured you stayed put.”

“I did. For a while.” She toyed with the condensation on her glass. “Then I left. I left state after state actually. Just… needed out.” 

He nodded, like he understood. Like they were still tuned at the same frequency 7 years later.

His eyes were softer than she remembered. Not in a fragile way, just quieter. Like he didn’t have anything to prove, or the world hadn’t gotten to him yet. 

“You’re really doing it,” he said. “Your music thing, that’s cool.”

She looked down bashful. Knowing that he was millions bigger than her. “You’re just being nice.”

“I’m never nice,” he said. “Even back then, you knew that.” he smiled his quiet smile.

She looked up to meet his ever round eyes, there was a nostalgic warmth and familiarity that was better than any adrenaline rush she got from going bar to bar. Something old. Unfinished.

“What about you? Mister Guns N Roses.” she chuckled, swatting at his hand like she was scolding him for not addressing the elephant in the room. What had taken her friends up and out of Indiana in the first place.

“It’s a mess. But yeah. We’re making noise.” He rolled his eyes. 

“For as calm and collected as you are, you’ve always attracted messes haven’t you.” She smiled.

“Maybe you mean Bill.” he chuckled softly. 

They left the bar together. Not because they planned to, just because it didn’t make any sense not to. 

Outside, the air was thick with that night time buzz, full of potential and unfinished business. His car was parked a block down. She hesitated. 

“Wanna drive for a bit?” he asked. “Like before?”

Her heart tripped. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

The city flew past them in a blur of red brake lights and yellow street lamps. Neither of them said much at first. It was the kind of silence that existed back then, feedback whining in Momma’s garage. Herself, Axl, and him laid out on the cheetah printed couch by the minifridge. Filled with jello, cause Momma would be damned if she had a beer. 

“I missed this,” he said eventually, one hand on the wheel, the other on his leg. “You.”

It hit her. She shouldn’t be humbled, it was still her highschool friend. Of course he’d miss her, she couldn’t believe she let his status get to her. Like she was lucky to have him miss her. She was new to experiencing their history, if that made any more sense than this sensation of longing. 

She turned her head slowly. “You both left without saying goodbye.”

“I know.” His voice went quiet. “I was scared if I did, I’d change my mind.”

A beat went by. “We drink to it to this day. I know that when this moment slips by? I’ll drink even harder to this one.” he said. 

She nodded. She understood now. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

They had pulled into a motel off Sunset. One of those old places with buzzing signs and doors that opened to the outside. 

“I can get my own place if this is weird,” he offered.

She looked deeply into him.

And for the first time she saw Izzy Stradlin before her, not grown up Jeffrey. The man he became, faded denim, cigarette roughed voice. Gentle eyes. The same crooked smirk he used to pull when they were caught stealing cassettes. 

“Izzy,” she said softly, “you can stay.”

The room was small. A double bed, floral sheets, a lamp with a crooked shade. Her guitar leaned against the wall in the corner like it was the third of whatever this reunion was to become. 

She kicked off her shoes. He stood near the window.

She didn’t want to say the wrong thing. She didn’t even know what the right thing would be. So she just told the truth.

“I used to think about you. Each time I moved.”

He turned slowly. Like he wasn’t sure he heard her right. His eyes met hers, and something had shifted in them, like the air had changed pressure.

“Yeah?”

She nodded, the words crept somewhere behind her ribs. “Not in some big dramatic way. Just… like a constant in everything I did. You were two… well, you were the first person who just didn’t laugh at me. No matter how bad I was at guitar, no matter what silly guy I cried over, no matter how lame my poetry was? That kinda thing stays with a girl.”

He moved toward her carefully, like she was something sacred. His steps were slow, quiet. But there was something determined and in them too. Like maybe he spent years walking toward.

Izzy knelt in front of her. One knee to the motel carpet. He looked up at her like he didn’t know how to begin.

For a second, that was all. The silence curled around them again, but this time it pulsed. It buzzed into something bigger, something breaking.

Then he leaned in, slow and reverent. He kissed her like it wasn’t new, like it was something they’d been doing in dreams for years. His mouth slowly moved over hers with a softness that stunned her, lips just barely parting until she opened for him and let him in.

He tasted like smoke and beer. Her hand curled into his hair, tugging gently at the strands. He kissed her like he’d never kissed anyone like this before, tentative and tethered, full of feelings he was sure the English language didn’t have words for yet.

He pulled back, her heart was in her throat.

He pressed his forehead into hers. “We don’t have to. If this is too fast–”

She shook her head, breath catching.

“I want to.”

Not because it was overdue, or convenient. But because she had never felt more certain about anything in her life. This wasn’t lust, this wasn’t some hot guy from the bar. This wasn’t even about filling in for lost time.

It was about what was there between them now.

She leaned back against the bed, and he followed her gently, his hand finding her waist, and then the hem of her shirt. Everything he did was slow, like he wanted her to feel every decision he made. He kissed her again as he undressed her, his fingers brushing reverently over skin like he wasn’t just touching her, but remembering it, relearning it, letting it etch into him.

When he peeled off her top and she laid back in her bra, he stared for a moment. Not with hunger, but awe.

“Jesus,” he murmured. “You’re…”

Aging after this long, he didn’t care if she ended up a bit rough and less pretty around the edges, becoming gorgeous wasn’t a grace everyone had. He would’ve been in this position as long as her soul was in her body. But she was absolutely stunning, she was clearly more fortunate in his mind than any Hollywood babe had ever come unto him with. It made her all the more powerful to him, it made her terrifying. 

He never got to finish, he just kissed down her throat with gratitude, like an apology. And she arched into him, fingertips slipping under his T-Shirt, wanting more. Wanting him. 

They undressed each other in pieces. His jeans came off slowly. Her bra, even slower. He kissed her chest like he was memorizing it, like he didn’t want to take anything for granted. When she was finally bare beneath him, she felt more seen than exposed.

“You do this to me.” he shakily whispered. He was never shaken, not Izzy Stradlin, always had a plan. This time around he felt the most careful he’d ever been.

When he slid into her, it wasn’t rushed or ragged like the bastards she agreed to sleep with for a feeling. It was deep, deliberate. His forehead pressed into hers, and he gasped like he hadn’t breathed right without her for years. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in fully, feeling that soft stretch that burned in the best way.

Every thrust was careful, like he didn’t want to hurt her. Like he needed her to feel just how much he meant it.

He kissed her shoulder, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. Whispering her name like a vow.

Their rhythm built slowly, sweet and steady. He felt like he had been the most undeserving man in the world as she closed around him, like pleasing her was proof he had done anything right in his life. Fuck Guns N’ Roses, Fuck millions of dollars, Fuck guitar. Pleasing this woman was the only thing he’d live to get right, just right enough to make her cum. 

His breath that’d hitch in the slams against her ass became slightly whiny and desperate, like he’d cry in pleasure. She was already there, tears streaming down her cheeks as she caressed his cheeks, sharing a tender stare, both of them sniffling of pleasure and longing.

She hung her arms around his neck, pulling him into her mouth, both groaning and gasping like something was changing spiritually around them. 

Electricity climbed up and under her belly button, shot up into her mouth in a moan. 

“Izzy…I’m-” she whined, still crying, as was he. 

“Do it. Please.” he whimpered, a trait the world would’ve never expected from the stone cold Izzy Stradlin, a sight for her to see only. 

Both of their moans wound up louder and louder the closer she got, everytime she whined he would. What was happening between them would be more than an orgasm, or two.

When she came they both let out strangled moans, which turned to tears sooner. Their naked bodies holding each other like they needed each other to live. They were both just as raw and exposed, having finally melt past everything in their way.

Distance, time, estranged familiarity.

This was what she searched for, she’ll finally say it.

They hiccuped and wiped each other’s tears, kissing each other’s cheeks.

“You’re gonna make me cry if you keep crying.” she chuckled through her own sniffles. Wiping his cheeks, the slight pout on his lips killing her.

“You gotta stop too then.” He said using his wrists to wipe his own. 

♡

They laid there, naked in the cold air of the AC that stirred in the motel room. Her cheek against his chest.

“You’re not going anywhere, I think I’ll get alcohol poisoning if I let you go after this. I’d want to black out each second.” he demanded.

“So be it.” she smiled warmly, half laughing. “Take me to see Bill one of these days.”

Hiii!! First of all, i really like the way you write fics. I don't know it just feels so in the moment and so real, it really makes you feel like you're really there, you know? Anyway, keep up the great work, love!

Now, i would like to request something. Can you write thigh riding with Axl Rose? Like, holy fuck his thighs are scrumptious. Like maybe after a concert where Axl has been wearing his short shorts and reader has been watching him dancing around and all? You can add something if you want i don't mind and thank you in advance if you do it!!

im no better than a man - axl rose fic

taglist: @fuckyoumakeart @brokenglassb1tch @californiaahunny @tranquilitybasegrunge @slashes-strings @dazecrea

content: smut (18+), thigh riding

a/n: THANK U for the love i hope to write more immersive stuff in the future, ppl seemed to like my izzy fic! sorry this took so long, getting back up and at it rn <3 luv u >:)

It was too hot in the dressing room. The kind of heavy, sticky heat that made the mirror fog up and her lipstick smear just from breathing.

Axl had kicked the door shut with the heel of his boot fifteen minutes ago, and she was still perched cross legged on the couch, waiting for the sweat to dry behind her knees.

There was music thumping faintly through the walls, some other band wrapping up their set. The air was thick with hair spray, vinyl, and beer. Someone’s discarded scarf hung off a mic stand like a dead boa constrictor. She pulled her hair up off her neck with both hands and let out a long, slow exhale.

That’s when he came back in. Axl, of course still in his stage gear…if you could even call it that.

The door creaked open and in he walked, like sin in motion, all bare legs and smug smirks. His white shorts were impossibly short, clinging to his hips in a way that was borderline illegal, and absolutely showing off.

She stared. Couldn’t help it. He was glowing.

And he knew it.

“You’re looking at me like I’m dessert,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Or maybe like you’re starving.”

“I might be,” she said, voice a little too soft to be casual.

He laughed. Low, dirty, breathy. Tossed his mic down on the table and came to stand in front of her.

She looked up at him, eyes flicking from the ink on his ribs to the heavy way those shorts hung on his hips. His thighs were lean, strong, just a little flushed from the stage lights. She could still see the shape of him pressing against the fabric.

She bit her lip, shamelessly.

He smirked.

“You wanna sit on my lap, sweetheart?” he asked, tilting his head. “Or just keep staring at my dick through my shorts like some girl pervert?”

Her stomach fluttered. Heat pooled low, low in her belly.

“Shut up,” she said, trying not to smile.

He shrugged one shoulder, all fake innocence and rockstar swagger. “Didn’t say no.”

She didn’t say anything. Just moved.

She rose slowly, letting her palm skim over his stomach as she stood, and then, carefully, she swung a leg over him and straddled his lap on the couch. His hands went straight to her waist, then up under her shirt without asking, rough and possessive and warm.

He leaned back, gazing up at her now with half-lidded eyes and that barely there smirk that made her feel like the only girl in the room. And the most dangerous.

“You like ‘em?” he asked, nodding toward his own shorts. His hands squeezed her hips meaningfully. “Picked ‘em just for you.”

“I can tell,” she murmured. “They’re indecent.”

“That’s the point.”

She rolled her hips, slow. Testing. Feeling the slide of his thigh between her legs.

Oh.

His muscles tensed beneath her, and she bit down a noise. The denim of her cutoffs caught on his skin just enough to make it feel…good. Sharp.

He noticed instantly.

Axl grinned, hungry. His hand slid up her back, under her shirt, curling against the dip of her spine.

“You get off grinding on my thigh, baby?” he rasped. “That what you want?”

Her breath caught. His thigh flexed a little more under her, and the friction hit just right.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders as her hips shifted again slower, this time, purposeful. His skin was hot. Solid. That familiar coil inside her twisted tighter with each slow drag of her body against him.

Axl groaned, low and dirty, and licked his bottom lip. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

She bit her lip, dizzy with want. Her thighs were already shaking a little…not from effort, but from how goddamn turned on she was.

The pressure was delicious. Steady. Her clit rubbed just right through her shorts, her underwear soaked through. His leg was just the perfect shape to ride, and he knew exactly how to keep it there firm, tensed, not moving.

“Look at you,” he breathed. “So fuckin’ pretty like this. Drippin’ all over me.”

She moaned softly as she rocked forward again, slower now, savoring the friction. Her head dropped forward onto his shoulder.

“Faster, sweetheart. C’mon. Let me feel it.”

He started to bounce his thigh ever so slightly beneath her, a rhythm she immediately melted into. Her hands clutched his shoulders for leverage, and she buried her moans in his neck. The angle hit deeper. Stronger. Her whole body was buzzing with it.

His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling gently. “Don’t hide those sounds,” he muttered. “Wanna hear how good I’m makin’ you feel.”

She let out a whimper, hips grinding harder now. Axl’s hands clutched her ass, guiding the motion, pushing her down harder against him.

“You’re so wet,” he groaned. “So fuckin’ wet just from this.”

She couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. Every movement sent a new jolt of pleasure ricocheting through her body. 

She was dizzy with it lost in him, in the heat, in the feeling of his thigh working her open without even needing to take her clothes off.

Then his mouth found her throat. Licking. Biting. Kissing. Her hips stuttered.

“You gonna come for me like this, baby?” he asked, teeth grazing her jaw. “Grind that pretty cunt on my leg ‘til you can’t take it anymore?”

She moaned, shaky and desperate. “I’m fuck.. almost there…”

“Yeah? Then do it.”

His voice dropped an octave.

“Make a fuckin’ mess on me.”

That did it.

Her whole body tightened as the orgasm ripped through her white hot, blinding. She cried out, clinging to him, thighs quivering, grinding frantically as she came all over him. Axl held her there, whispering praises into her ear, holding her hips steady through it.

“That’s it, baby,” he crooned. “God, you’re perfect.”

She collapsed against his chest, panting, lips pressed to the hot curve of his neck.

He was hard now. Rock hard still pressing up against his shorts, straining painfully against the thin white cotton. She felt it twitch under her.

She lifted her head and looked at him blown pupils, flushed cheeks, chest heaving.

“I wanna return the favor,” she whispered.

He chuckled, hoarse. “Shit, you don’t gotta…”

She palmed him through the shorts, and he gasped, hips jerking.

“Oh fuck.”

She leaned in and kissed him slow, filthy, sweet. Then she kissed down his chest, over his stomach, and tugged those white shorts down just enough.

His white shorts were halfway down his thighs now, just enough to set him free. She took her time, fingers brushing over his waistband, teasing him with a flicker of tongue at his hipbone. 

She knelt between him, and he was already hard. Long, thick, flushed at the tip and practically pulsing in her hand. She wrapped her fingers around him, slow, just to feel the way his hips twitched under her touch.

He hissed.

“You’re killin’ me lady.”

She licked a stripe up the underside of his shaft, just once, before kissing the tip. Soft, like a promise. She took him into her mouth inch by inch, slow and sweet, until her lips were wrapped around the base and her nose nudged the patch of hair just above his pelvis.

She moaned around him, letting the vibration send a shiver up his spine. His thighs clenched. His whole body arched, hips rocking just a little too eagerly. 

She pulled back slowly, letting him slip from her mouth with a pop.

She licked around the tip, then down the shaft, wet and slow, soaking him. Her hand moved in tandem, pumping the base while she sucked the head, tongue swirling with purpose. He tried keeping somewhat composure, but he couldn’t.

“Shit, you’re good at that,” he gasped, hips bucking. “Such a dirty fuckin’ girl, huh? Lookin’ all sweet with your mouth full of cock…”

She moaned around him.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum just like this.”

She didn’t stop. She hollowed her cheeks, sucked harder, faster, until his legs were shaking and his fingers were digging into her scalp. She could feel him throbbing, the tension in his whole body building fast.

“Wait. Baby, fuck, stop. Let me cum inside you…”

She pulled off him, breathless, lips swollen and wet.

“Yeah?” she whispered. “You want that?”

He sat up fast, grabbed her face with both hands, and kissed her hard. “Get back on my fuckin’ lap,” he growled. “Right now.”

She obeyed without question.

He tugged her shorts down this time, yanking them past her thighs with quick, clumsy hands, then pulled her forward by the hips right into his lap.

His cock pressed up between her legs, slick from her mouth, throbbing against her inner thigh.

She lined him up, teasing the tip through her folds, wet enough to take him without any prep. He groaned at the feel of her, shuddered when her body twitched over him.

Then she sank down. Slow. Deep. Tight.

She gasped. His name on her tongue but not quite spoken. His hands gripped her hips so hard it hurt. He buried his face in her neck, groaning into her skin.

She rocked gently, adjusting, the stretch just right. Full and perfect and hot as hell. He looked up at her with blown pupils and flushed cheeks.

“You gonna ride me like you rode my thigh?” he asked, voice shredded. “Or you want me to fuck the sweetness out of you?”

She smiled, cock drunk and dizzy.

“Both.”

She started to move.

Slow at first just the grind, the steady slide of her hips over his lap. He met her halfway, thrusting up into her with every roll. The wet slap of skin echoed around the dressing room, and neither of them cared who heard.

She kissed him again. Messy, greedy. His hands moved under her shirt, cupping her breasts, thumbing over her nipples until she was whimpering against his mouth.

“You gonna cum again for me?” he asked, breath ragged. “Right on my cock this time?” She nodded, barely able to form words.

“I’m close, Axl… oh God, I’m fucking…”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Yeah? Then cum for me, baby. Cum all over me.”

She shattered around him.

Her orgasm hit hard, blinding, her body clenching tight around him as she cried out.

He didn’t stop, kept fucking into her, riding it out, chasing his own release now. He kissed her through it feverish, filthy, almost tender.

Then he gasped, held her tighter, and came with a groan so loud it sounded like a prayer. His hips stuttered, his body jerked, and he spilled deep inside her, hot and wet and endless.

She collapsed into him, skin slick with sweat, still catching her breath.

He wrapped both arms around her, kissed her temple, and let out a shaky laugh.

“Well,” he murmured, still inside her. “Remind me to wear the white shorts more often.”

a/n: Guys for some reason when I copy off my google doc it gets spaced all weird… lmk if it bothers you! I think it might be the font size I type in T_T

I love this picture of chad donella— bro was locked in

𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙫𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 ?

Axl: “When I get stressed, I get violent and take it out on myself. I’ve pulled razor blades on myself but then realized that having a scar is more detrimental than not having a stereo. I’d rather kick in my stereo than cut my arm. I’d rather kick my stereo in than go punch somebody in the face. When I get mad or upset or emotional, sometimes I’ll walk over and play my piano.” -89’