band one-shots

jealousy || andy biersack

uwu i can't wait for the cringy bvb fangirls to find this-

ship: andy biersack x reader

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Andy's fingertips press against my skin softly. He's still asleep, resting in a peaceful dream world, but his fingers are awake, aching to touch me. I love it.

I love him.

My back arches against his chest and I whisper, softly as I can, "Babe. Wake up." His body remains still and I roll over, looking into his closed eyes. "Andy."

He stirs a little, slipping into some in-between world that's neither sleep nor consciousness. Mumbles of my name sound, muffled against the pillow.

I nudge him once more and he awakens fully, irises lighting on my body. "Good morning." His voice is deep and rough, cutting into me as his arms enclose my waist.

It's such a comfortable embrace, one I know well, that I've woken up every morning to. I feel it in my dreams, when I'm alone, and it'll still cling to my body even when I stop breathing.

I smile back at Andy, the picture-perfect image of the girlfriend he wants me to be. I can play the role perfectly well, it was made for me.

But it isn't me.

He sleepily emerges from the covers, getting to his feet and pulling my fragile body up with him. Our chests collide and he holds me, so softly, I almost forget.

And then it comes rushing back, and I have to pull myself away, nauseated and disgusted.

Andy frowns at me, clueless to the reason I can barely stand up straight. He takes my hand, whispering encouragements, and my fingertips itch but I don't let go, and I love him.

And it will never be enough as I fucking want.

White-hot jealousy courses through my veins, and I stop breathing, awash in what I've seen, the memories still fucking me up inside.

Andy holding another girl, his lips sliding down her collarbone, to her shoulders, to places he rarely even touches on me.

The girl's soft moans for Andy, unaware of the fact that he has a girlfriend, that he has a loyal fucking girlfriend who loves him, and it will never be her. No, it won't be anyone other than me.

My eyes taking in the scene through cracks in the door, my hands shaking in panic, my stomach twisting with anxiety.

He doesn't know that I witnessed that. He has no fucking clue. He thinks he's okay, he got off completely fine, his dirty little secret is buried in polished lies, but he's not.

I hate the girl, I truly do, for allowing my boyfriend to touch her disgusting body and ruin our perfect relationship. And I'm envious that she's better than me.

Jealousy is such a comfortable feeling, one I know well, that I've woken up every morning to.

I feel it in my dreams, when I'm alone, and it'll still cling to my body even when I stop breathing.

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why do i make oneshot books and then not even write romantic shit lmaooooo