#...to be me forcing someone else to watch it with me

[cvnntagious]

˗ˏˋ pornstar!chris films with someone new ‧₊˚

꒰part two ✩꒱ (coming soon)

creeping into chris' condo as quiet as possible with a wrapped gift in hand, a large smile took up most of your face at the thought of him opening it. though, the more you explored the area, the more discouraged you got before eventually giving up with a loud sigh at the realization that he wasn't home. but then, where was he? he always told you when he was going to be out, but today? he didn't even so much as leave you a text.

if not for chris updating you on his whereabouts becoming routine, you truthfully would've thought nothing of his sudden absence, but with a confused look on your face, you found yourself setting his christmas present on the coffee table in front of you to plop down onto his couch. you slipped your phone out of your back pocket, instantly typing away at it.

it was simple and straight to the point, leaving no room for confusion; you'd never been the type to beat around the bush. you weren't upset, really—more like confused, is all. and you waited. sitting idly on his couch as you waited for that little 'delivered' alert to turn into 'read'.

it didn't.

not for a while, at least. you ended up leaving his house only about half an hour after you sent the message, seeing no reason in just sitting there overthinking it. but you still did. going on about your day, trying to distract yourself from that nagging voice in the back of your brain that whispered 'where's chris at? what's he doing?' and 'you're not special. he got bored of you, silly,' at any moment you weren't occupying your mind with something else.

you knew you were probably overreacting; being dramatic in a way chris wouldn't like if he could hear your thoughts. i mean, it's not even like you'd be that upset if he had gotten tired of you. he was only some good dick and a person to keep you company... every single day for the past month. shit, you needed to know. picking up your phone in a swift motion as you now sat on your own couch, having tried to watch a show as means to keep your mind off chris, you checked your notifications in hopes that you'd missed his text.

but something new caught your eye.

a notification from chris' twitter, far different than anything you'd imagined throughout the day. of course you clicked it, a small breath of relief coming from you as you'd immediately told yourself he must've been busy with his executives. oh, he was busy alright.

your eyebrows raised at the sight before you: a short clip of chris plowing into some blonde with big tits, her moaning and whining in such a forced way. he was grabbing and squeezing at them. i mean, shit, he wasn’t even a boobs guy. it was so unlike him, completely disregarding his original intent for his content—keep it authentic. the caption only contained the hub link, telling his fans to watch the full video there.

dread sounds about right. a look of dread spread across your face, as if you'd just witnessed your worst fear. except it wasn't your worst fear. at least you didn't think it was, until now.

without thinking, you found yourself in chris' messages again, seeing the 'delivered' alert still there like a taunt. it was a slap in the face, really. not even the fact that he'd went and filmed with someone else, but the way he'd so clearly purposely failed to give you any type of warning.

once you'd sent the message, seeing the little text below your blue message change to 'read' instantly, it all suddenly felt pointless — all the worrying throughout the day, the dread you felt when you watched the short clip chris posted, the hurt when you saw he ignored your message, and now, even the message you literally just sent to him.

w/c : 645

a/n : i'm gonna try to bust these out the best i can, but y'all might have to bare w me cs i'm proly the worlds slowest writer... this may overlap with the au calendar as well, so to be clear, this isn't my priority. if i have to postpone parts of this to keep up with the prompts, i will. that being said, hope you guys enjoy my first multi-part tumblr fic <3.

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

[etheraltides]

Under Summer Skies

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x best friend!Reader

Summary: it was just a casual get together in your best friend’s yacht until it wasn’t anymore.

Warning(s): SMUT – dry humping, oral sex, pinv (wear condom, y’all), a bit of dirt talk. +18 ONLY mdni!

A/N: Grammarly keeps telling me to don’t use dots in the dialogues so who am I to argue?

The sun was setting, casting golden light over the deck of the yacht, and the gentle sway of the boat gave the illusion of an isolated world – just the two of you, surrounded by nothing but endless blue. No worries, no expectations to live to.

Rafe sat on the cushioned bench, his head tilted back, an arm draped lazily over the backrest. He wore nothing but his swim trunks, his skin kissed by the sun from a long afternoon spent on the water. His sharp blue eyes were fixed on you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips while you did your best to don’t get distracted by him.

“Are you seriously going to do this?” he asked, his tone playful but teasing as he watched you rummaging through your purse.

You grinned, holding up the pair of tweezers you’d plucked from your bag. “Yes. Your eyebrows are a disaster, Rafe. Someone has to fix them, and I’m your best friend, so I’m taking one for the team.”

He rolled his eyes, but the smirk didn’t leave his face. “I don’t need my eyebrows fixed. They’re fine.”

“They’re uneven��� you countered, stepping closer and nudging his shoulder. “Come on, don’t be a baby.”

Rafe groaned dramatically but leaned back, letting his head rest against the back of the bench. “Fine, but don’t mess me up. I don’t want to look like a girl.”

You snorted, settling yourself beside him. “Relax, I’m not going to butcher you. Just sit still.”

You reached for his face, your fingers brushing lightly against his jaw as you angled his head toward you. Rafe’s skin was warm under your touch, his subtle stubble tickling against your fingertips, and you tried to ignore the way your pulse fluttered when his eyes flicked up to meet yours.

“Okay…” you said softly, your voice steadier than you felt. “Stay still.”

You began plucking, your focus narrowing in on the tiny hairs that needed to go. Rafe winced slightly, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach up and bat you away.

“Stop squirming!” you scolded, biting back a smile.

“It hurts.” he complained, his tone petulant as he couldn’t back the smile. It was adorable the way you bit your lips in concentration, the crease between your brows making it just the more adorable.

“Oh, come on. You act like you’re so tough, and you can’t handle a little tweezing?”

Rafe’s lips twitched, his smirk returning. “I’m plenty tough. I just don’t see why this is necessary.”

“It’s called grooming, Rafe. You should try it sometime.”

He laughed softly, the sound low and rich, and you felt it settle in your chest.

But then he shifted, his hands gripping your hips lightly as he said, “Here. You can’t reach like that. Come here.”

Before you could protest, Rafe tugged you forward, pulling you into his lap in a swift motion.

Your breath caught as you landed on him, straddling his thighs. His hands stayed on your hips, his grip firm but not forceful, and the heat of his skin burned through the thin fabric of your bikini. You feared that he could heart you fast beating heart now.

“Better?” he asked, his voice lower now, his blue eyes shining in the golden light.

You tried to keep your composure, to ignore the sudden spark of tension crackling between you, but it was impossible. Rafe’s gaze was locked on yours, his smirk replaced by something softer, something heavier.

“Y-Yeah, sure.” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your hands trembled slightly as you raised the tweezers again, but the task suddenly felt monumental with the way Rafe was looking at you. His eyes dipped to your lips, just for a moment, before flicking back up to meet yours.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, his tone teasing but edged with something else.

“What? Me nervous of you?” you said quickly, though your voice betrayed you. “Absolutely not.”

Rafe’s smirk returned, but this time it was slower, more deliberate. “Liar.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to regain some semblance of control. “Stay still, Cameron, or I’m going to accidentally pluck half your eyebrow off.”

“Go ahead,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower. “I trust you.”

The weight of his words settled between you, heavier than they should have been, and you found yourself unable to look away from him. His hands flexed slightly on your hips, his thumbs brushing against your skin in a way that made your stomach flip.

“Rafe.” you said softly, your voice faltering.

“What?” he asked, his tone light but his expression serious.

“This is…” You trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

“Different?” he offered, tilting his head slightly, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the soft skin of your hips.

You nodded, your fingers still resting against his jaw, the tweezers forgotten in your hand.

Rafe’s gaze flicked down to your lips again, lingering this time. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you a fraction closer, and you felt your breath hitch as the space between you disappeared.

“Tell me to stop.” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t.

Instead, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that was tentative at first, testing the waters. But Rafe didn’t hesitate. His hands slid up your sides, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that made your head spin.

The tweezers slipped from your hand, forgotten as your fingers tangled in his hair. His hands roamed your body, sliding beneath your bikini top to rest on the bare skin, his touch warm and firm.

“Rafe,” you murmured against his lips, your voice trembling.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes dark and heavy-lidded. “You want me to stop?”

You shook your head, your fingers tightening in his hair as you pulled him back in. His lips crashed against yours, his kisses growing more desperate, more insistent.

The air between you was electric, charged with a tension that had been simmering for far too long. Every touch, every kiss felt like a spark igniting something deeper, something neither of you could ignore anymore.

Rafe’s hands gripped your hips, guiding you closer, and you gasped as the movement sent a jolt of heat through your body.

“Tell me this isn’t just me,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jawline, his voice rough and edged with vulnerability.

“It’s not just you,” you whispered, your hands sliding down to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

“Good,” he said, his voice soft but sure, before capturing your lips in another searing kiss.

The sun dipped lower, casting the yacht in golden shadows, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had disappeared. It was just you and Rafe, tangled together in a moment you’d never forget.

Rafe’s kisses grew more desperate, his hands gripping your hips firmly, pulling you flush against him. The tension between you was thick, electric, and you could feel his breath hitch as he shifted beneath you.

Your fingers slid through his hair, tugging gently as his lips moved from your mouth to your jawline, then lower, grazing the curve of your neck. His stubble left a faint scratch against your skin, but the sensation only added to the heat pooling in your stomach.

“Rafe…” you whispered, your voice breathless, your nails digging into his shoulders for support.

“Mm,” he hummed against your neck, the sound low and rough. His hands roamed your waist, sliding up beneath your bikini top, his touch warm and deliberate. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

He shifted again, and you felt it – the unmistakable press of his arousal beneath you, hard and insistent. Your breath hitched as he rolled his hips, the motion deliberate, sending a spark of heat through your core.

“Rafe—” you started, but the rest of the sentence was lost as he tilted his head back, his hands guiding your hips to match his slow, rhythmic movements.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice strained but soft, his blue eyes searching yours.

You nodded, your lips parting as another wave of heat rippled through you. “Yeah,” you whispered, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance as he rocked his hips again, harder this time.

The friction was intoxicating, every roll of his body against yours sending sparks of pleasure through you. His hands slid lower, gripping your ass as he guided you, his breathing heavy and uneven.

“God,” he muttered, his voice breaking slightly as he buried his face in your neck. “You feel so good.”

You couldn’t respond – could barely think – as his movements grew more insistent, his body pressed so tightly against yours that it felt like there was nothing separating you. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve ending alive and alight with sensation.

“Rafe!” you gasped, your fingers clawing at his shoulders as he thrust upward again, harder, drawing a soft moan from your lips.

His lips found yours again, his kiss deep and heated, and you could feel the tension in his body building with every movement. His hands gripped your hips tightly, almost desperately, as if he couldn’t get close enough.

“Say my name,” he whispered, his voice rough and filled with something raw and needy.

“Rafe,” you breathed, the sound trembling as it left your lips.

He groaned at the sound, his movements faltering slightly before he caught himself, his pace quickening. The sensation, the intimacy, the heat – it was almost too much, and yet it wasn’t anywhere near enough.

“God, you’re perfect.” he murmured, his voice cracking as he kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck. “I’ve wanted this… wanted you… for so long.”

The confession sent a shiver down your spine, and you clung to him, your body moving instinctively with his. The world outside the yacht didn’t exist anymore – it was just you and Rafe, tangled together in a haze of heat and longing. Something you have pushed aside for so long in fear of ruining your friendship that it just blew in your faces now.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

With every thrust of his hips, you could feel the fabric of your bikini bottom growing damp, the delicious friction building between your legs. Your breaths grew shorter, your heart racing in time with the rhythm he set, and your body responded to his urgency with a fiery need of its own.

“Rafe, wait,” you whispered, pulling back slightly, your eyes searching his. “We shouldn’t do this—it’ll ruin everything.”

He stilled beneath you, his eyes searching yours, his expression a mix of surprise and hunger. You could see the desire warring with something deeper, something that made your stomach flip. For a moment, you thought he might pull away, might agree with your rational words. But instead, he leaned in closer, his voice a soft murmur against your skin.

“It won’t ruin us,” he said, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on the bare skin of your thighs. “We’re already more than just friends, aren’t we?”

Before you could respond, he hooked his thumbs into the band of your panties and pushed it aside, sliding the fabric just enough to expose the slick heat of your folds. His eyes darkened, and he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “Let me show you how good it can be, baby.”

With a gentle nudge, he coaxed you to move, his own hips grinding up to meet yours as you slid down his body, the fabric of his shorts abrading your sensitive skin. His thumbs stroked the damp fabric, tracing the edges of your pussy, and you felt a tremor run through you, your protests dying in your throat as a strangled moan escaped instead.

The ache grew, pulsing with every beat of your heart, demanding more as he teased you, the anticipation driving you wild. You could feel the fabric of your panties sticking to your wetness, and the friction was exquisite, a sweet torment that had you writhing against him.

“Please, Rafe,” you begged, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them. The shyness had melted away under the weight of your desire, leaving only a raw, unbridled need. “I need—I need you to—”

He smirked up at you, a knowing glint in his eyes, and leaned back, his hand disappearing beneath the waistband of his shorts. You watched, transfixed, as he pulled out his cock, thick and hard, the tip glistening with pre-cum. His hand wrapped around it, stroking slow and deliberate, the motion mesmerizing. The sight of him touching himself, the way his muscles tensed and his breathing grew ragged, was more than you could bear.

Without a moment’s hesitation, you leaned down, your mouth watering at the thought of tasting him. You took the head of his cock between your lips, feeling the heat and velvet smoothness, and he groaned, his hips jerking upward. You took him deeper, letting your tongue dance along the underside as your hand found his length, stroking in time with your mouth. He tasted like salt and man, a heady flavor that made your senses swirl.

Rafe’s eyes rolled back in his head, his hands gripping the edge of the cushion as you worked him with a passion that surprised even yourself. You’d never felt this wanton before, never been so eager to please, but something about the situation had unlocked something primal within you. You took him deeper still, feeling the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, the muscles there convulsing around him as you struggled not to gag.

He watched you, his eyes hooded and dark with lust, his breaths coming in ragged pants. “Fuck, you’re so good at this,” he murmured, his voice tight with restraint. You felt a thrill of power at his words, a sense of control that only made you more eager to serve him.

With a graceful move, you shifted onto all fours beside him on the plush cushion, his cock still in your hand. The cooler air of the yacht’s cabin washed over your heated skin, sending a shiver through you. The position was more comfortable now, and you took full advantage, leaning down to suck him in deeper, your cheeks hollowing as you drew on him. His hand found the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you, his hips bucking in time with your movements.

But then he stilled, his eyes dropping to your thighs, where your arousal had started to dribble down. His gaze darkened, and he tugged gently on your hair, urging you to look up.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, breathless, your hand still moving up and down his shaft.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I want to taste you,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “Let me lick your sweet pussy, baby.”

The words sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, and you nodded, your breathing shallow. He helped you stand, his eyes never leaving your body, and you could feel his gaze like a physical touch. You stepped out of your bikini bottoms, the fabric falling away to reveal your bare skin, glistening with your desire. You stepped closer to him, standing at the edge of the cushion, and he reached for your thighs, urging you to straddle his face as he laid down.

You hesitated for a moment, but the need was too strong. You positioned yourself over his mouth, his warm breath fanning over your sex. He looked up at you, his eyes smoldering, and you felt your knees tremble slightly. And then his tongue was there, licking a long, slow line up the center of your pussy, from bottom to top. You moaned, the sound echoing through the cabin, and he groaned in response, his hands sliding up to grip your ass, pulling you closer.

It was messy and desperate, his tongue delving into your folds, lapping at your clit with a hunger that mirrored your own. His beard scratched against your sensitive skin, the sensation adding to the delicious assault on your senses. You could feel the wetness of his mouth, his saliva mingling with your arousal, and the sight of his blonde hair sticking to your thighs was almost too much. He feasted on you, his mouth working against you with a ferocity that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

You grabbed the railing above for balance, your body rocking against his face. You felt the orgasm building, a pressure that grew and grew with every stroke of his tongue, every nip of his teeth. It was as if he could sense it, his movements becoming more urgent, his grip on your hips tightening as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

“Rafe, I’m going to come,” you moaned, warning him through gritted teeth. But instead of slowing down, he only redoubled his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly against your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful, a knot of sensation coiling tighter and tighter within you.

With a final, desperate moan, you climaxed, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you. Rafe’s tongue didn’t stop, though, continuing to work you through your orgasm, drawing it out until you were trembling and weak. You collapsed against the railing, your legs shaking, your breath coming in pants.

“Holy shit,” you murmured, your voice hoarse. “That was—”

But your words were cut off as Rafe’s mouth moved away from your pussy, his eyes shining with lust as he sat up, his cock standing tall and demanding. He reached for you, pulling you back down onto his lap so that you were straddling him once again. This time, however, he positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance.

“Take it slow, baby,” he murmured, his hands guiding yours to his chest, his heart hammering beneath your palms. “Let me in.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath, and then, with a gentle rock of your hips, you slid down onto him. He filled you, stretching you in a way that made you gasp, his cock thick and hot and perfect. The sensation was so intense that for a moment, you couldn’t move, could only sit there, feeling him buried deep inside you.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” Rafe groaned, his hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples to hard points.

You bit your lip, your eyes fluttering shut as he began to rock his hips beneath you, his cock moving in and out in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had your insides clenching around him. Each stroke sent a new ripple of pleasure through your body, and you found yourself moving with him, your hips rising and falling to meet his.

The sound of your skin slapping against his filled the open deck, a testament to the passion that had overtaken you both. The sea breeze danced across your skin, adding a cool contrast to the heat of your bodies.

“Look at me, baby,” Rafe rasped, his voice thick with desire. You opened your eyes to find his gaze locked onto yours, his pupils blown wide with lust. You took his words as a command, your hips moving in tandem with his, your breasts bouncing with every thrust.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his hands sliding up your body to cradle your face. “Take it all. You’re so fucking wet for me. You’re perfect, just like I knew you’d be.”

With a your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, you begin to grind in a slow, sensual circle, watching Rafe’s eyes roll back as he loses himself in the tight, slick embrace of your pussy. The feel of him inside you was intoxicating, filling you to the brim and sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. Each rotation brought a fresh rush of sensation, his cock hitting all the right spots, and you felt yourself growing wetter and wetter with every pass.

His hands slid from your face to your hips, his grip firm as he helped guide your movements, his own hips rising to meet you. The sound of his breath grew ragged, and you knew he was just as lost in the moment as you were. The pressure built again, a delicious ache that had your muscles clenching around him, urging him deeper, begging for release.

“I’m close,” you gasped, your voice a desperate whine.

“Shit. Me too, baby,” Rafe groaned, his eyes never leaving yours as he pumped his hips up to meet yours. The friction was unbearable, the tension coiling in your stomach, tightening until you thought you might shatter.

With a final, powerful thrust, you both reached the peak, your orgasms crashing over you in a tumultuous wave of pleasure. You cried out, your nails digging into his chest as your body tightened around him, the muscles of your pussy pulsing in a delicious rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart. Rafe’s eyes squeezed shut, his teeth gritted as he emptied himself inside you, his cock jerking with every drop of his release.

For a moment, you stayed there, suspended in time, your bodies locked together in a silent symphony of ecstasy. And then, as the world slowly began to come back into focus, you slumped against him, your head resting on his shoulder, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. His arms tightened around you, holding you close, as if afraid to let go.

“We don’t have to talk about this today,” Rafe murmured against your hair, his voice a soothing balm to the sudden tension that had coiled around your heart.

You nodded, your eyes still squeezed shut, trying to hold onto the last remnants of your climax. “Okay,” you managed to whisper, your voice shaky.

As your breathing began to even out, a laugh bubbled up from your chest, and you couldn’t hold it in. “What’s so funny?” Rafe asked, his voice still strained from his own release.

You leaned back slightly, looking into his eyes with a small smile playing on your lips. “I still ain’t done trimming your eyebrows though,” you teased, lightly brushing his brow.

[sylus-doll]

Synopsis: You tend to forget that Sylus is a dangerous man. There are moments when reality decides to slap you across your face. It reminds you that he is unhinged— an untamed force of incomparable power.

Warnings: Death; he kills someone. People, actually. Sylus doing his job. Descriptions of violence, blood, etc. Licking of said blood (done by MC [you]. Don't ask why, I'm ashamed). MC (you) lowkey being obsessive of him because why not.

Author's note: Felt unhinged. Comments and reblogs are appreciated. <3

Your time spent with Sylus is always pleasant. Even with the constant banter, filled with your witty remarks and his teasing. It feels right. Everything seems to fall into place when you stand by him. This is natural; to embrace the rough edges of the other and sharpen it with your tongues. It feeds into your unlabeled bond. Two people dancing, never intertwining— not yet. Not lovers but not quite discernable from it.

Sylus is not forceful. At least, not anymore. Very persuasive at best. He knows exactly how to tug your heartstrings. You think it is because Mephisto has been out on “kitten duty” as Sylus so affectionately puts it. Just a nicer terminology of stalking you. He takes the time to learn more about this version of you. Invites you into his territory, his home. Has the twins deliver you clothes, trinkets, and whatever else he knows you love.

Anything that money can or cannot buy, it is yours so long as he thought of you while obtaining it.

“I thought this necklace from the auction would look nice on you. Throw it away if you don't like it.”

Sylus never tells you how much it costs. Or the price of anything he gifts you, for that matter. You know the number is likely to be in the millions. That's what he does— spoil you endlessly and ask that you discard whatever is not to your liking. You've tried protesting, insisting such gifts are far too much. And he does tone it down. But he could never resist adorning you in glorious luxury every once in a while. All he says is that you could stand to be a little greedier.

It goes beyond material pleasures. Sylus knows when you step into the N109 Zone, sent by the association to deal with whatever they need done. Sometimes through Mephisto, sometimes because you tell him. After every mission, whether it ends in success or failure, you'll know he's not far away. Mephisto's incessant caws only cease when you follow him back home— back to Sylus. What welcomes you are a set of red eyes, a quirked brow and a soft tug of his lips. His thumbs in the pocket of his pants, waiting for you as he always did.

Rinse, repeat.

Too comfortable. You've become complacent with that routine, and you are reminded of who exactly Sylus is. Infiltrate a protocore auction; that was your mission this time. An Aether Core fragment was rumoured to be the star of tonight's show. You should have expected Sylus to be here, too. Why would he not be? He was always interested in Aether Cores. The scene before you is familiar, the only difference is the man you've grown accustomed to.

“Well? What's going through your head? Don't tell me you've forgotten what exactly I do, sweetie.” He looks at you, piercing, bored. The term of endearment tastes bitter on your tongue, how ironic.

But you already learned that this expression is simply a mask. Sylus cannot afford to lose anything, so he gives away nothing. Only you could tell, of course you could. His breaths are heavy, deeper. There's a slight tremor in his voice. He stays deadly still as the bodies that lay at his feet. Splatters of blood on his cheek. Crimson coats his fingers, dripping, he's painted an eerie silence of death.

You had been compromised. One of the attendees blew your cover. And soon enough, the guns were pointed at you before you could even raise your fists. Yet, the bullets never came. Black-red mist decays people. Whoever was closest to you met their demise through Sylus's gun to their heads or even his bare hands. You watched the spectacle, rendered incapable. The stark contrast of the Sylus you know and this— this man who is the leader of Onychinus.

So why are you not afraid? This is who Sylus really is. Who he has to be despite the warmth and safety he provides for you. The same hands that cradle you are tainted, the heart he has given to you have rotten bits. A monster, soaked in an ocean of blood that only grows with each day. But it is still a heart, yes? He still chooses to love you, yes?

You walk towards him, stepping on carcasses. His thumbs are in his pockets; he's waiting for you again. Always. This time, you reach for them. This time, you nuzzle into his palms like a cat starved of affection. You look into his eyes and don't break away even as you lick his fingertips clean. Sylus's hands were meant to cradle you, damn whoever's blood decided to taint what's yours.

“You always said I could be greedier with you. Don't start complaining now.”

[sailorrhansol]

The Syndicates Collection

Collection Details: This collection contains individual fics with each member of SVT paired with a different reader that occur in the same universe/AU and timeline. Each story is a stand alone, but three of them do have a connected/overarching plot. You do not need to read all of them to understand what's going on, and all of the fics can be read as standalone one shots.

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Collection Warnings: Criminal behavior, morally gray characters, murder, depictions of violence and murder, general violence associated with mafia/criminal activity, recreational drug sale and use, depictions and mentions of death, recreational drinking and drug use - each individual fic will be heavily tagged and warned appropriately.

Main Masterlist | Tag List Request Form | Ask

CONNECTED WORKS

Baby | Omertà | Menagerie

FULL COLLECTION

Baby | Coming January 1, 2025

↪ Soonyoung has been in your life for as long as you can remember. You haven’t spoken since your wedding to someone who isn’t him, but when you uncover your husband’s plans to turn against your family, you don’t know who else to call.  Read Teaser → Here

Ride or Die | Coming 2025

↪ You always knew you were different from a young age. The only person who has ever been able to understand you is Vernon. When things take a turn for the Choi Syndicate, your long-term relationship is put to the test.

Til Death | Coming 2025

↪ Being the heir of a powerful family has it's benefits - you get to go to whatever parties you want, vacation places people only dream of, and meet all the powerful entities of the city. It also has it's struggles, like being forced to marry a man you don't know - except you do know Minghao, who was your one night stand only a week prior.

Cherry Sours | Coming 2025

↪ Nothing in your life ever comes easy. Not family, not money, and certainly not jobs to pay the endless stack of bills. The only thing easy are the smiles you give Chan when he comes into your convenient store the same time every Saturday to buy his cherry sours. And then one day he arrives late, and everything changes.

Street Demon | Coming 2025

↪ You've been street racing since you could reach the pedal of a car - it's the only thing you've ever been good at. When a rival decides they're tired of losing to you, Seungkwan steps in to show he's more than just a street racer.

Omertà | Coming 2025

↪ Omertà (n) /ˌōmerˈtä,ōˈmərdə/ - code of silence, honor, and conduct that emphasizes remaining silent when questioned by authorities or outsiders. Or Jeonghan makes sure you stay on top of paying off your father's debts by making you betray everyone you've ever known during a Syndicate war.

Kerosine | Coming 2025

↪ Jihoon knew growing up he would be expected to practice law like his mother, protecting the assets and the associates of the Choi Syndicate. He's had no problem doing that so far - until he gets you as a client.

Stitchuation | Coming 2025

↪ Working the late night shift at the ER in the dangerous part of town sucks. Finding out the two repeat patients you've been flirting with are roommates is worse.

Corrosive | Coming 2025

↪ Trying to unravel the Syndicates that run the city isn't what Seokmin ever dreamed he'd be doing. Turns out he's good at it. At least until he meets you and everything he knows about the city's criminal empires is turned on its head.

Gin & Tonic | Coming 2025

↪ There is little benefit to working the underground fighting ring that belongs to the Choi Syndicate besides good pay. Another one? Getting to watch Junhui in the cage most nights and serving him his gin and tonic after he wins.

Dead to Me | Coming 2025

↪ You and Joshua ended things on a terrible note and you haven't seen him since, doing your best to avoid him - that is until he comes to your untimely and most annoying rescue.

Menagerie | Coming 2025

↪ Choi Seungcheol has been struggling since he stepped into his father's role leading the family syndicate. Nothing has been easy, fighting a war against both known and unknown enemies. You're easy though, making all of his troubles float away. And then those troubles come knocking on your door.

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

[ooastralberryoo]

MC who loves otome games

Lucifer acts pretentious at times and expresses that it is quite a strange hobby to have. You are often by his side in his room at his desk when he is working and in order to kill time you find yourself pulling out your handheld device and headphones to play. You don't notice but Lucifer is most definitely taking peeks at your screen maybe not so much peeks but he is full-blown watching until he catches himself and gets back to his paperwork. He also pays attention to how you talk about the characters in the games you play especially your favorite characters "This is a fictional character after all they could not provide much for you...I on the other hand.."

Mammon expresses his disdain right away. Why would you need a fictional character to obsess over when you have a real-life demon aka Mammon! Grumbles to himself while he sits next to you playing an otome game because, at the end of the day, he just wants to spend time with you no matter what you're doing. Next thing you know he is not grumbling insults at the game but instead demanding you to pick certain choices claiming that he knows which one would be the best "Obviously you should choose the third choice ..! Wait! What I meant to say was I really don't see the point of these games is the great Mammon not enough for you!?"

Levi is in a constant state of jealousy and understanding. On one hand, he loves that he has someone so close to him who also enjoys games like that but on the other hand, he tends to compare himself to the characters in the games you play and you often have to reassure him that you like him the way he is. Later on, though, he absolutely loves discussing his favorite otome game stories and characters with you! "Did you play his route yet?? The beginning was kind of slow but later on, he really shows how much he cares for the MC and .. ... .. .. .."

Satan prefers reading romance books but he is willing to indulge in this hobby of yours. After all, it is mostly reading. At first, he tries to act uninterested, making it clear that he does not want to be like Levi but he gets hooked in the end. After watching you play and playing a bit for himself he gets so passionate about the stories and characters and he gets pissed when there's a character who he thinks is not suitable for the MC. "Why the hell would anyone prefer this route over any of the others!? Do they not have taste?!?!"

Asmodeus is intrigued from the start. He has heard of these sorts of games from Levi but whenever Levi discusses them they lead to a long ramble and Asmo doesn't stay interested enough to stay until the end. He watches you play them and plays a bit himself and it immediately inspires him to try new roleplays in the bedroom. He is open to cosplaying as characters in the bedroom as well. He takes pride in the fact that he can learn the ins and outs of your favorite character but still in the end he hopes you favor him the most "Ooh ~ I can see why you like him so much he's so cute! ...But I'm hoping you like someone else a lot more darling"

Beelzebub just so happens to stumble upon you playing one of these games after he gets himself a snack and decides to spend his time eating in your room of all places. He does not have much interest in playing one for himself but he is happy to watch you play while munching on snacks..as long as it does not take too long. Eventually, he will ask you if you want to pause the game and go out to eat, his treat of course! (and this absolutely does not have anything to do with the fact that you are obsessing too much over this certain character.) "Is this the type of person you like MC..? They are not real though..maybe it's time to take a break from the game we should go out to eat now just you and me."

Belphegor forces you to cuddle him to sleep whether you are tired or not so you have learned to keep your phone or a handheld console on hand for this purpose. While lying down with your back turned to Belphagor you put on your earphones and dive into this romance game world but little do you know is Belphie is watching. He pays close attention to whatever you are interested in and this just so happens to be one of them. He does not make it known but you sometimes find it suspicious when he says something that resembles what the character in your game says.. "Hmm what do you mean? You must be tired Let go to sleep now" :)

I wrote this while drinking pls ignore any mistakes imma try to tweak it another day :D ALSO If you reached the end please consider checking out this adults-only otome game community I made on my other account!!

https://www.tumblr.com/communities/otome-game-community

[zhelin-thames]

Disowned by Vlad, Adopted by Bruce

prompt idea

@silverblueglitter

Danny leaned back in his chair, staring at the clock as it ticked down. It was becoming unbearable, and his coffee was long gone. He needed something to take his mind off the pressure. So, naturally, he decided to take a break with a call to his old "father" figure.

"One second," Danny muttered, holding up a finger to Bruce, who was standing nearby, watching him with an amused look. "I need to make a call."

Bruce raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Danny picked up his phone, hitting speed dial with practiced ease.

The phone rang a few times before a familiar voice crackled through the line. "Danny, what is it this time?"

"Dude, I need you to disown me or something," Danny said bluntly, letting his shoulders slump as he leaned back in his chair. Bruce shifted next to him, clearly interested but not saying anything.

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line before Vlad’s voice came back, a little more strained. "What do you mean ‘disown you’? I don’t think that’s how this works."

Danny exhaled dramatically, flipping a pen between his fingers. "Look, I found a much better billionaire. Even his basement is cooler than yours, and his mansion doesn't give me the creepy ‘don't go near the basement’ vibe. I’m just saying, this Bruce Wayne guy is kind of a step up from whatever mess you’ve got going on. You’re interfering with my ability to fantasize, Vlad."

From the other end of the line, there was an offended sputter. "What—Bruce Wayne? You can’t be serious. That man is—"

"Yeah, well, I might just call him Dad," Danny interrupted, a smirk pulling at his lips as he looked over at Bruce, who was now watching him with wide eyes. "Who knows, maybe he’s better at this ‘parenting’ thing. I mean, you’ve been busy being a creepy ghost villain, and Bruce... well, he’s got a cool cave. You should be jealous."

Bruce froze. His posture shifted slightly, his eyes narrowing in confusion and... something else. Something a little less amused. Danny was too wrapped up in the call to notice the shift.

"I don’t care if you find a ‘better billionaire.’ I’ve invested time in you!" Vlad yelled, his voice thick with indignation.

"Yeah, well, maybe it’s time for an upgrade," Danny shot back, crossing his arms. "Your mansion is a total dump compared to Wayne Manor, and it’s kind of embarrassing now. I might just take up Bruce's offer to adopt me. He seems way more competent, and, honestly, I don’t know what you’ve been doing in your creepy lair all these years."

At this point, Bruce was visibly processing the situation, his mouth slightly open as he tried to piece together what was happening. He hadn’t heard Danny mention wanting to be adopted by anyone—especially not someone like Bruce Wayne. His heart rate had picked up a little, though he quickly masked it with a forced casualness.

"I don’t need your drama, kid!" Vlad shouted in response.

Danny shrugged, his attention drifting back to Bruce. "Don’t worry, Brucie. I’ll come over sooner or later. Your mansion’s way cooler, and your kitchen has better snacks."

Danny could practically hear the steam coming out of Vlad’s ears on the other side of the call as the ghost finally cut the connection with a harsh click. Danny stared at the phone for a moment, then tossed it onto the desk.

Bruce was quiet for a long moment. "You... You really want to be adopted by me?" His voice was even, but there was a slight edge to it—a crack that betrayed something beneath the calm façade.

Danny shrugged, not meeting his gaze. "I mean, I could think of worse things. You're rich, you have cool gadgets, and, honestly, it'd be nice to have a family that doesn't involve ghostly vengeance, y'know?"

Bruce’s posture shifted again, and this time he didn’t hide the brief moment of genuine surprise. Then, ever the composed figure, he let out a slow breath, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "I can’t exactly offer you the freedom you seem to want, Danny... but if that’s something you want to discuss, I’d be happy to have that conversation."

Danny met Bruce’s gaze, and for a second, just a second, the weight of the world seemed a little lighter.

"Yeah," Danny said softly, leaning back in his chair again. "I mean, I guess it's not the worst offer."

Bruce’s expression softened further, though he quickly masked it again. "Good. Let’s talk when you’re ready."

The awkward silence settled between them, but it wasn’t as heavy as before. Danny could see it now, just barely. Maybe Gotham wasn’t such a mess after all.

Maybe it was just starting to look a little more like home.

[dieseldame]

𝗗𝗿𝗮𝘄𝗻 𝗯𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗮𝗿𝗱𝘀

Sevika x Fortune Teller! Reader

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2,1K

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: Intrigued by Sevika’s use of a tarot deck, Reader joins her for a game that takes an unexpected turn.

𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: Slow burn, fortune-telling, tarot, romantic tension, domestic fluff, Zaun setting.

𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: I’ve recently gotten my hands on my very first tarot deck, and it’s been such a fascinating journey learning the meanings behind the cards and their symbolism. That curiosity sparked the idea for this story—combining Sevika’s no-nonsense attitude with the mystical allure of tarot readings. I wanted to capture the tension, the mystery, and the inevitability of fate in this piece. Enjoy!

The Last Drop was alive with the raucous energy of a late Zaunite evening. The air thrummed with music, laughter, and the click of glasses colliding in toasts. Smoke curled lazily from various corners, and the smell of spilled liquor clung to the damp floorboards. It was a place for the desperate and the bold, where fortunes were gambled and lives sometimes exchanged for coin or glory.

And at the heart of it all sat Sevika.

She leaned back in her chair with the air of someone who owned not just her table but the entire room. A small smirk tugged at her lips as she toyed with a glass of amber liquid in one hand and shuffled her deck with the other. The cards moved between her fingers like extensions of herself, each flip and ripple precise, hypnotic. Around her, a circle of admirers and challengers alike watched with bated breath. Another winning streak. Another pile of coin gathered at her elbow.

For Sevika, it wasn’t about the money—it was about control. She reveled in the predictable chaos of it all: the sweat beading on her opponents' brows, the way their bravado faltered under her calculating stare. She was the gravitational force pulling them all in. And she liked it that way.

But tonight, she felt it before she saw it. A shift in the air.

You had been watching her from the edge of the room, drawn like a moth to a flame. Something about her presence—the easy confidence, the intensity in her gaze—snared you and wouldn’t let go. It wasn’t just her skill at the table or the low rasp of her voice as she called her plays. It was something deeper, something unspoken, like the hum of an engine beneath layers of steel.

Before you knew it, you were moving. Through the crowd, past the jeers and cheers of the patrons. Closer to her.

She noticed you immediately, of course. Her eyes flicked up, sharp and assessing.

— Another challenger? — she drawled, her voice cutting through the din like a blade.

— Not quite, — you replied, your voice steady, though your heart raced. You gestured to the seat across from her. — But I’d like a hand.

Sevika arched an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. She nodded toward the chair. — Your funeral.

The deck moved between her hands again, shuffling with practiced ease. As you sat, you noticed the intricate designs on the cards—less a standard playing deck and more… something else. Tarot cards.

— Interesting choice. — you said, gesturing to the deck.

Sevika’s smirk deepened. — Keeps things interesting. You’d be surprised how much the cards know.

She dealt three cards in a smooth, deliberate motion. One. Two. Three. Face down.

You hesitated before flipping them over. Something about this felt… significant.

The first card revealed itself: The Tower, reversed.

The air seemed to thicken. You swallowed hard, your fingers brushing the edge of the card. — Your past. — you murmured.

Sevika chuckled, low and rough. — Go on, fortune teller. Enlighten me.

You didn’t know what compelled you to continue—whether it was her challenge or the magnetic pull she had on you. But as you spoke, the words came unbidden.

— The Tower reversed represents… chaos avoided. A disaster that didn’t destroy you but left its mark. You’ve rebuilt yourself, piece by piece, but the foundation still trembles. — You glanced up, meeting her gaze. — You’ve survived, but survival came at a cost.

For a moment, something flickered in Sevika’s eyes. Recognition? Pain? It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by her usual mask of indifference.

— Lucky guess. — she said, though her tone lacked conviction.

The second card. The Eight of Swords, upright.

— Your present, — you continued, your voice quieter now. — You’re trapped. Not physically, but… mentally. You feel confined by something. Your choices, your loyalty, your circumstances. You’re strong, but even the strongest can feel caged.

This time, Sevika didn’t speak. Her jaw tightened, and her hand curled into a fist on the table. You could feel the tension radiating from her, a storm barely contained.

Finally, the third card. The Lovers, upright.

You froze. The card seemed to hum with its own energy, the vibrant imagery drawing your eye.

— Your future, — you said softly. — A union. Love. A choice that will change everything.

Sevika scoffed, breaking the spell. — Love? Please. I don’t need anyone.

You couldn’t help but smile, leaning forward slightly. — The cards don’t lie.

Her gaze locked with yours, a challenge in her eyes. — We’ll see about that.

The moment stretched, taut and electric. You could feel the weight of her attention, the way it pinned you in place. Finally, you stood, letting the tension break.

As you turned to leave, you glanced over your shoulder, offering her a teasing smile. — I’ll be seeing you, Sevika.

She didn’t reply, but her eyes followed you, dark and unreadable.

Months Later

Sevika’s apartment was quiet, save for the soft clink of pots and pans from the kitchen. The first rays of dawn filtered through the grimy window, casting long shadows across the room.

She stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind her. The weight of the day’s winnings—gold and coin stuffed into various bags—pulled at her arms, but she barely noticed. Her gaze was fixed on the figure in the kitchen.

You stood at the stove, humming softly to yourself as you stirred a pot. The warm, familiar scent of spices filled the air. You looked over your shoulder as she entered, your lips curling into a smile.

— Late night? — you teased, your tone light but knowing.

Sevika grunted, dropping the bags near the door before making her way toward you. She leaned against the doorframe, watching you with a mix of amusement and something softer, something she wouldn’t dare name.

— You’re cooking again. — she said.

— Someone has to keep you alive, — you shot back, turning to face her fully. — And I’d rather it not be through Zaun’s questionable street food.

Her lips twitched, almost a smile. Almost.

You tilted your head, your eyes sparkling with mischief. — Come here, Sevika.

She didn’t need to be told twice. Crossing the small space in a few strides, she slipped her arms around your waist, pulling you close. Her body was warm, solid, grounding. You leaned into her, resting your head briefly against her chest.

— Miss me? — you asked, your voice teasing.

— Don’t push it, — she muttered, but the way her hands lingered on your hips betrayed her.

You tilted your head up, catching her gaze. — You know, — you said softly, — I told you the cards don’t lie.

Sevika rolled her eyes, but before she could retort, you leaned up and kissed her. It was soft, almost chaste, but it lingered just enough to make her breath hitch.

When you pulled back, she gave you a look that was equal parts exasperation and affection. —You’re insufferable.

— And yet, — you replied, your grin widening.

Without warning, she scooped you up, setting you down on the kitchen island with ease. Her hands framed your face as she kissed you again, this time with more heat, more intent. The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you.

When you finally broke apart, your breathing uneven, your gaze drifted to the counter beside you. There, lying face up, was a single card: The Lovers.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and joyous. — See? I told you.

Sevika smirked, brushing her thumb over your cheek. — Maybe the cards know a thing or two.

And with that, the night gave way to something new, something bright, something undeniably yours.

ㅤㅤㅤ

[deadbydad]

Captain Curly (Mouthwashing) - When You Can't Fix Everything and Why He's a Victim of Jimmy

There are many discussions surrounding Captain Curly all around the internet on whether he is a good person or not.

Some say he isn't while some say he is, but the question simply has an easy answer.

Curly is a morally grey character.

Captain Curly, when we first play as him and see through his perspective, we come to learn a lot about him with the short amount of sections where we do play as him.

We know that he is very optimistic, he cares deeply for his crew and always tries to look on the bright side of things. He just wants everything to be fine, and will always try to fix it if it isn't because, well because he's the captain.

But him being so optimistic is what was his downfall, and I think that's what makes him such a well written and realistic, morally grey character.

Curly isn't innocent, but he is a victim of Jimmy just like everyone else on the ship is.

Let me explain.

Curly was the first person Anya told about when Jimmy assaulted her and how she was pregnant, and Curly told her he would talk to Jimmy.

He would fix it.

I hate when people say that he didn't care about Anya or didn't believe her. Curly never said he didn't believe her, and he never said he was defending Jimmy either.

This is one of the examples of his optimistic views doesn't work out for him.

We know that Curly invited Jimmy to work with him in Pony Express and we immediately assume that because they're friends, then Curly is defending Jimmy.

But if you replay and really pay attention to Curly and Jimmy's conversations, you come to realize that Jimmy is borderline controlling and abusive with the way he talks to Curly.

He isn't and doesn't see Curly as a friend, but Curly being too nice and tends to look past that type of stuff, that made it easy for Jimmy to manipulate Curly.

After Anya told him, Curly did talk to Jimmy about it, but he went about it in a calm way. I think what he did is pretty realistic for the situation they're in, but I'll talk more about that later.

Curly talking to Jimmy is what led Jimmy to crash the ship and get Curly injured and fuck everything else up. Not to mention that Jimmy wanting to get rid of Curly so he could be captain also played a huge part in it.

Jimmy never saw Curly as a friend, he only saw him as someone he could use to get what he wanted.

Curly trying to fix what happened by talking to Jimmy was his wake up call, his karma in a way.

Because of the crash, Curly understands Anya in a way when Jimmy starts to hurt and force him to take the pain meds. Curly being brutally hurt and injured can only lay and not do anything to stop it.

He finally understood what Anya had felt in a way, and he probably hates himself because he didn't do something to protect her.

And her killing herself in front of him and watching the rest of his crew die to the hands or consequences of Jimmy, even Jimmy himself, was what made Curly realize that he simply can't fix everything.

Curly is absolutely a victim of Jimmy like everyone else on the ship is.

He was manipulated, abused, and not to mention Jimmy literally ate some of his body. All of this was because Curly was too optimistic.

Curly is one of the most realistic characters, and I think people saying that he's as bad as Jimmy just aren't thinking about the fact that he was a victim of Jimmy himself.

Yes, he could have done more to protect Anya, most likely by switching her over to a room that has locks.

But I believe that he couldn't do anything besides that, especially when it comes to Jimmy.

He knows how crazy and angry Jimmy gets. He was probably thinking that he couldn't just go up to him and start a fight because, let's be real, Jimmy was going to kick Curlys ass and he was probably going to crash the ship no matter what.

Curly, in my opinion, while yes, he didn't do anything to protect Anya, he wasn't protecting or defending Jimmy.

Curly was trying to look at how he could fix it, but I think no matter what he did it wouldn't have mattered.

I see people saying that Curly could have shot Jimmy with the gun or locked him up in another room or contacted the higher-ups of Pony Express. I don't think any of this would have realistically worked.

One, he can't kill Jimmy because he is the co-pilot, and they needed a co-pilot for the ship, and locking him in a room wouldn't have worked either.

Curly couldn't have called the higher ups either because Pony Express wouldn't have done anything because they simply just don't care about their workers.

No matter what Curly did or what he could have done, none of it realistically would have worked or done anything to solve the problem.

I'm not defending Curly at all, I'm a victim of assault myself, so I understand Anyas feelings, I'm simply saying that we should look at the other possibilities and should start thinking about what Curly was actually thinking before saying he was as terrible as Jimmy.

Curly isn't innocent, but he was a victim of Jimmy.

His optimistic views on life and on people are what caused his downfall.

[ddodol]

all mine — p.wb

series ⭑.ᐟ [ kinktober masterlist ] content warning ⭑.ᐟ smut! minors dni!, bf!wonbin, fem!reader, pet names, themes of cheating oops, failed attempt at angst?, first time mentions, unprotected sex, overstimulation. word count⭑.ᐟ 2k+

a/n; sooooo this is unexpectedly lengthy.. i really wanna rewrite this some other time because i like the angst kajsdk wanted wonbin to be the mayor's son,,, but i don't want this to be THAT dark iykwim </3

you grew up in a small town where everyone knew each other’s business. it was nice, you thought. the people you grew up around were the same people that helped shape you into the fine lady you were now.

it came as a shock and disappointment to everyone in your town when they learnt of your marriage to the recently town mayor’s son. the pure and innocent little girl they treasured was offered in exchange for the town’s growth— it wasn’t something you chose nor would you ever choose if you were given the chance, but you knew it was something you had to do.

the wedding was lavish, one would think it was out of love for the bride— and yet you haven’t even spoken to your groom-to-be at least once. you walked on thin ice the entire time, forcing a smile as you thanked the townspeople’s half-hearted congratulatory remarks and goosebumps popping up the back of your neck as you linked your arm with his.

you wondered when it would end, letting out a relieved sigh when your now husband excused himself to greet some acquaintances. you lingered for a while, watching and listening to their disgusting remarks about you.

”you’re a lucky man; your wife is young and spry!”

you felt disgusted, shivers running down your spine as they mindlessly babble away even when you were within earshot. you quickly excused yourself, choosing to ignore the fact that you were going to be unhappy with this marriage.

”y/n.” your heart dropped at the familiar voice, turning around with wide eyes. there stood someone you’d be regretfully leaving behind in light of this marriage— your childhood friend and lover, wonbin. you looked around, making sure that no one else was there before running up to him. he smiled when he felt your warmth surround him, holding you close. he pulled away to look at your face, affection written all over his face.

”i’m sorry i took so long,” wonbin whispered, taking your hand in his, “i should’ve been here. i should’ve protected you.”

you stared at him as if you were trying to memorize his features, shaking your head as you smiled, “you were chasing after your dreams, it’s not your fault. besides, it was my choice, bbin.”

wonbin frowned, clenching his jaw. he knew he was young and powerless, a mere fisherman’s son that was still trying to find his footing in the world. he regretted leaving you in this town, driven by the desire to find a decent job for the two of you, only to return and find out that you were no longer within his reach.

fate was cruel, but not cruel enough to completely keep you away from him.

”come with me,” wonbin mumbled, eyes huge and glossy as he stared into yours. he held your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss onto your knuckles. “please, run away with me.” his voice was small, hot breath warming up your freezing hand.

you could only smile at him. you were old enough to know what you were doing, and that included the painstakingly long legal procedure that came with your marriage. you had nothing to lose, but you also had nothing to gain, and you’d even risk facing the townspeople’s contempt if you ran off.

”you know i can’t, bbin,” you whispered, voice sounding sweet but it caused wonbin great pain.

he sighed, loosening his hold on your hand to wrap his arm around your waist. wonbin held you for a long time, face buried in the crook of your neck. you smelled nice, some scent he knows you’ve never used before, wrapped in high-quality fabric that always covered your skin in rashes the day after.

wonbin wanted nothing more than to take this gaudy wedding gown off of you, eyes burning into yours as he pulled away. it was easy to tell that you were unhappy, that none of this was something you chose, looking like a stranger in your own wedding. a sigh escaped his lips, making up his mind to get you away from all this mess.

wonbin lifted you in his arms, finding yourself in a small, unused storage room at the end of the hallway. he nuzzled his face into your chest, holding you up against the wall. you patted his head, running your fingers through his hair. if only there was a way to give yourself to him, something special—

”take me, wonbin,” you spoke hurriedly, voice breaking, “take me before he could.” he stared into your eyes, the meaning of your words finally dawning on him. you smiled when you felt his breath hitch, “i want you to be my first, bbin.”

”fuck, if you say it like that,” he groaned, burying his face against your shoulder. you chuckled, seeing how red his ears had gotten. wonbin glanced at you, cheeks slightly flushed, “shouldn’t you be mad at me if your first time was at your own wedding venue?”

you laughed, the sound tickling his ears. “that would still be a better memory than my own wedding,” you reassured him, fingers combing through his sleek hair. he let out a shaky sigh, nodding as he turned his head towards your hand, placing a kiss on your wrist.

wonbin held you gently, lowering you down but never taking his hands off of you. he leaned in, chuckling before capturing your lips. you wrapped your arms around his neck, the slow kiss making your head spin the longer it went on. you gripped on his hair, making him pull away slightly.

you panted against his lips, eyes flickering down to see your lipstick staining them. you grinned, satisfied with the mark you left on him, pulling him back in for more. wonbin smiled against the kiss, letting you lead the pace this time.

the kiss was short, nibbling on wonbin’s upper lip as he pushes his tongue to break it off before trailing kisses down your neck. you sighed softly, brows furrowing. you felt his hand finding its way under your gown, shuddering when you felt his fingers against your sensitive inner thigh. wonbin let out a soft groan, nipping at your skin.

”can you raise your leg up for me, baby?” wonbin’s voice became hoarse, sounding even deeper right against your ear. you bit your lip, shivers running down your spine when you parted your legs open, lifting your knee up to his waist. wonbin smiled, hooking his hand under your raised leg, using his other hand to caress your hips.

wonbin could feel your restrained moans against his shoulder, lipstick staining his white dress shirt. he held your cheek, pulling you away so he could see your face. wonbin’s cheeks were just as flushed as yours, glossy lips parted open. he smiled at your adorable state, teasingly prodding at your lips with his thumb.

”do me a favor baby,” he whispered, “open your mouth for me.”

you obediently followed, gasping when he pushed his finger inside. wonbin cooed at you, brows twitching at how warm your mouth felt along with the erotic expression you had on your face.

you swirled your tongue around his finger, blushing at the lewd act. “that’s it, you’re doing so well,” he praised gently, tensing up as he pushed his finger deeper, now pressing on the roof of your mouth. wonbin felt you gag a little, prompting him to pull away completely. he quickly replaced his finger with his lips, kissing you deeply in an attempt to distract you from what he was planning to do next.

you felt his hand near your thigh once again, whimpering against his mouth when you felt his fingers near your core. he ran his finger down your slit, playing with your slick. wonbin pulled away, murmuring curses against your lips, “fuck, you’re wetter than i thought, baby.”

wonbin sighed into your neck, gently circling around your warm entrance. he eased his finger inside your walls, cooing at you when he heard your soft whimpers. “it’s okay, princess. just relax for me, yeah?” you buried your face against his neck, mewling at the slight stretch you felt.

he slowly curled his finger up, whispering praises as he continued to stretch you open. wonbin kissed your cheek, discreetly slipping a second finger inside. he covered his mouth with yours before you could let out a cry, the movement of his fingers mimicking the slow kiss that it made your head spin.

you whimpered, fists tightly gripping on his shirt at the pleasurable stretch. the moment wonbin felt your walls flutter, he pulled his fingers away before unbuckling his belt. you felt lightheaded, resting your cheek against his shoulder. you gasped sharply when wonbin raised your other leg, making you cling onto him, legs wrapped around his waist while your back was pressed flush against the wall.

”i’ll be gentle, i promise,” wonbin mumbled with bated breath, the words he uttered sounding like a lie even to himself. the tip of his cock pressed against your wet entrance, moaning softly when you felt him slip it inside. he stilled inside, rolling his hips as he waited for you to relax around him.

”thank you, princess.” you cried out when he bucked his hips forward, thick length piercing through your core. wonbin mumbled praises along with apologies, panting from how much he was trying to pace himself. he supported your body with one arm, his free hand going up to fondle you through your gown.

your body was heating up, whimpering once the pain turned into pleasure. wonbin’s shallow thrusts soon became deep and fast, leaving you a crying mess as you struggled to cling onto his shoulders. “i got you, baby. you're all mine now,” wonbin murmurs in between thrusts, groaning your name against your skin.

your moans get louder, cries starting to echo in the room as wonbin began to slam his hips into yours. you clawed on his back, feeling his muscles tense up at the action. he hissed, biting on your shoulder in return.

”bbin,” you whined, walls convulsing around his cock. you felt warm, too warm, reaching a high you’ve never experienced before. wonbin kept his face buried in your neck, mumbling about how amazing you felt around him. “bbin, it’s too much!” you cried out, nails digging into his skin. you felt overwhelmed, the heat from your lower stomach starting to rush throughout your body, making your head spin.

wonbin moaned into your neck, hands gripping tightly onto your hips. “let go for me, baby. let me own you completely.”

you moaned his name, a gush of warmth coating your inner thighs and wonbin’s length as you reached your high. “fuck. fuck, y/n.” wonbin mumbled tiredly, hips jerking sensitively as he came soon after. you felt his warm seed deep inside you, whimpering from how overwhelmed you felt.

he held you for a long time, letting you cool down in his arms. when he felt your legs trembling, wonbin quickly helped you straighten your legs down. you kept your hold on him, making him chuckle as he leaned down to embrace you.

you could feel something warm dripping down your thighs, soon finding it unpleasant. you sighed, pulling back to look at his face. “i kind of get why this activity is done on a bed.” wonbin laughs softly, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

”guess that’s my cue to bring you back to your house, then.”

the next few weeks after your wedding were sweet, sickeningly sweet. your lifestyle had changed so drastically, living in a house that was as wide as the fields you grew up in and as high as the town’s tallest utility pole. your new husband’s life was hectic as he ran multiple businesses in and out of the town, leaving him no time to even speak to you, much less see you.

you took advantage of it, running to wonbin’s old house without a second’s hesitation as soon as you wake up in the morning. even though it was regrettable that you didn’t wake up in his arms, wonbin was already content that you kept coming back to him.

the small town where everyone knew each other worked in your favor, turning the other cheek whenever they saw you and wonbin roaming the streets with your hands intertwined. they were happy for you— that was what you liked to think, making up for the time they failed to protect you.

[ao3-shenanigans]

I have a confession, and a question. I have rewritten my longest fic to-date a total of six times and have an entire extended universe planned. The problem is, I only make progress if I'm writing it out by hand. The slower pace of writing with a pen or pencil forces me to pause and think far more often than typing and makes it much easier to deal with grammar and spelling errors down the road. It also has the great side effect of helping to keep Writer's Block from taking hold. How do you deal with writer's block?

Ah man, writers block hits me so hard!

Some tips and tricks I’ve heard that help:

1. Make a short-term outline

- maybe not the whole plot but rather a short scene or set of scenes. Ex:

(1) Character A picks a fight -> (2) Character A looses fight -> (3) Character B finds them and takes care of them

2. Make a list of things you would want to read in a fic

- be self indulgent! This is your fic after all!

- listing moments you’d like to have can sometimes get the creative flow excited again

Ex: Jon and Martin kiss, someone calls Elias a Saucy Minx and he has to put up with it, Sasha gets to stab Peter, Tim gets to have a sick day where people take care of him

3. Write scenes out of order!

- write that sappy epilogue first if you want!

- stab that sad little man! Figure out why it happened later!

4. Write a few sentences or scenes from a different perspective

- can be that of a different character, an animal watching, a passerby or even an inanimate object! 

5. Write with a friend! Co-authoring a fic or even parallel writing can help with motivation

6. Write a one shot while taking a break from Your main project!

- sometimes something short and sweet can get the dopamine flowing again

7. Write by hand!

- the old notebook trick!

- or even changing the font sometimes helps!

8. Don’t allow yourself to edit or fix typos!

- let yourself ramble on to the page for a bit! You can’t edit what’s not there!

9. Read someone else’s work!

- fanfic or traditionally published work! Mix it up!

10. Re-engage with the source material!

- remember your roots!

11. Change the weather!

- maybe the fight isn’t working in the rain, but how about sleet or snow? Searing desert heat?

12. Change the format of the fic

- try writing it in second person or as a screen play

13. Leave bits out

- start with only the dialogue or only the setting descriptions

14. Talk it through with a friend or fandom buddy!

- explain the story and ask them questions, brainstorm answers together

15. Remember that it doesn’t need to be perfect!

- getting fixated on plot holes or mischaracterization can be detrimental to enjoying the act of creation that writing is

- as fanfic readers, we genuinely don’t mind that much; its the whole “Holy shit two cakes!!” situation, the fact that you’re willing to share this thing you’ve written and labored over with us for free is a gift in and of itself

- have fun! Be silly! Don’t fret about it!

[domwitch]

Thinking about needing a domme's permission to wear pants, and being bottom naked by default. Some important features of this arrangement:

Gives her easy access

I can't hide it if I get an erection

Always tempted to touch myself (whether or not I'm allowed to is a different conversation)

If there's someone at the door, I have to let her answer (this is correct anyway, she's the head of the household)

If I complain about being cold, she'll force me to cockwarm instead of letting me get dressed

If I complain about being embarrassed, she'll make me lay in her lap while she jerks me off--after cumming a few times I'll be too dumb to be embarrassed

She can slap my face or play with my nipples and watch me instantly get hard

I have to ask (sometimes beg) her permission before I can get dressed and leave the house

(Walking around in just a t-shirt makes me feel slutty and hot as fuck)

(Walking around in just *her hoodie* makes me feel even hotter, even sluttier, and completely and utterly owned)

Basically, all in all it reinforces my subservient role. I'm her pretty thing that she keeps around for sex, and I need her permission to pretend to be anything else.

Oh this is pretty great!! Love the idea of cockwarming if you get cold, that's sooo cute. I think personally some thigh highs would be cute for like winter if it gets really cold, but just a big t-shirt (or a crop top during summer!) is enough for me. Plus with a butt plug and/or a chastity cage it'd be like a constant reminder you're owned.

[vengefultakeover]

Daemon: Loose Lid (2)

NOTE: This is the newest edited version of this story

I got up from the bed and looked back at Max sleeping after the long night of exploring his new body. To be fair, he did plenty of exploring my body as well, rolling between the sheets. Never in my life did I think I would find myself in this situation, but I was full of curiosity. I left him on the bed, a slight snore coming from under the blankets, and went to the kitchen to make some coffee. The smell swirled in the air and I enjoyed the scent as I sipped it in front of the machine. Halfway empty, the mug made a small clink as I placed it down on the counter and returned to the bedroom.

Max was grinning at me when I leaned against the wall and he rolled to the edge of the bed, sliding down his underwear to expose the plump mounds Dan had worked so hard on. With a blink, his eyes flicked from their usual hazel to the bright green of the creature currently controlling Dan.

"This body craves you." Max said with a little bit of a growl. I don't think Dan was actually craving me, but the daemon inside him getting to feel human lust.

I was too distracted by the mating display to see the covered jar sliding off the night stand and landing on the carpet with a thunk. The lid, which had come loose from Dan desperately bouncing around inside of it, popped off and rolled along the floor as I quickly scrambled to stop it. Max dug his head into the mattress to avoid his mouth from being exposed, but Dan didn't care much as he bounced off the walls. My eyes followed the blue ball until it went straight for me. I ducked, hearing it bounce off the wall behind me, and then looked up just in time to watch it fly directly towards his exposed hole. With a loud pop the protoplasm disappeared between his cheeks and up into his body. Max howled as he turned over, writhing against the bedspread as he scrambled to pull off his shirt. His chest began to glow and I quickly closed the curtains in the bedroom to avoid any sunlight pouring into the room.

With his back arched, I watched as Max appeared from his chest. He was forced out of his body and landed on two feet in front of me still too large for the room and ducking down to fit. Dan on the other hand woke up in control of his body and was panting as he looked at the two of us in horror.

"Dan, don't panic. I know - " I started.

"No! What the fuck just happened? What the hell is that?" He started to push himself away from us, stumbling off the bed and out into the kitchen without seeing an answer to his questions. As he stumbled, he knocked my half full cup of coffee off the counter and it exploded on the tile. Max jumped into action and caught him at the front door, breathing his green breath into his face. Dan collapsed in Max's grip and he looked over at me with a questioning glance.

"I think it's time we found someone else."

Max needed to stay inside in order to remain safe and made sure all of the blinds were closed. Without a human body protecting him he couldn't go anywhere during daylight hours. This meant that I was left to search for potential bodies. I didn't mind, I was vetting pretty much everyone in our apartment complex. I thought about all the neighbors and one particular asshole came to mind.

The thing about Dan was that he's a good guy. He deserved his body back. I should also say that I am not the end all be all of deciding who deserves their body. That being said, my neighbor is an asshole. Alex is a cocky and cruel son of a bitch. A combo that is particularly deadly considering how hot he is. His mental acuity wasn't great, causing him to puff out his chest to maintain physical superiority when he didn't have the mental one. It only took two knocks for him to open the door, answering it without a shirt and on the phone.

"Hold on, my weird neighbor is at the door, I'll call you back." He hung up, "What's up?"

"Hey there, neighbor, I just needed your assistance. I was - um - making breakfast and I -"

He interrupted me with one of his lighting fast retorts, "Couldn't open a jar with those chicken arms?" He flexed his biceps. This was the usual conversation, he always found a way to talk about his body. I at least had height going for me.

"Yeah, that's exactly it. How did you know?" I was a little smug, but it went right over his head as he followed me inside my apartment. With all the curtains closed, it was relatively dark, which piqued his concern.

"Why is it so dark. You should really open a window, maybe that's why none of the neighbors like you." The airhead was already too far inside and Max slammed the door shut. He picked up the jock like he was weightless and growled at him. He opened his mouth to scream, but Max didn't give him enough time as he started digging in his chest, pulling out his protoplasm with a wet slurp. Alex slumped in his grip and I put him in a fresh jar. This time, I made sure it was airtight before putting it in a drawer in the kitchen. Max climbed over his body and growled at him as he pushed his lips open and started turning into the glimmering dust to enter his body. Max looked back at me just before his demon dog head swirled inside of his body and Alex was convulsing as Max got comfortable inside him.

As he stood, I could tell he felt different inside him. He stretched a bit and walked towards the window to see him in the light. The sliver of sun that slipped in through the fabric travelled the length of his body, standing there is a sexy confidence as his new skin protected him. His eyes flashed green, happy with his new host.

"He feels different than your friend, bigger, stronger," He turned towards me, "hornier." His grin was inviting and I leaned back as he came over, pushing me onto my sofa and straddling me until he decided to push his lips against mine and we were making out. My cock was bulging and I slid off my briefs from underneath us, my cock bouncing out and slapping against his ass cheeks. He removed his workout shorts and I felt his warm ass lowering onto my hard member. I gasped, feeling his hole swallow my cock and he playfully tightened his hole as he took more of me inside him.

"Holy shit." I moaned, pulling him tight into me and making out as I was grinding into him. His pecs bounced with every thrust upwards and my fingers dug into the his muscular back, feeling his whole body against mine tighter as I fucked him. He curled himself into me, gyrating his hips onto my cock as his eyes glowed the beautiful green. I couldn't help but to grab his neck and force him harder onto my cock, slamming his body down like he was a fleshlight. He was smiling as he licked his lips and suddenly I was exploding inside his hole, filling him up as I pushed my head back into the sofa. When I opened my eyes, Max was peering down at me with a smirk, playing with my cock with his hole as I came down from the blissful ecstasy.

"Mmm, I could do that forever." He says, lifting himself off of me. He admires his new form, running his hands along his skin and flexing underneath his fingertips. His fingers circled parts of his skin that had tattoos, admiring the inked images. He even takes a moment to bring his hands up to his ears, flicking the earring.

"I like you inside him. He's much more appealing with you in control." I reach behind him and squeeze his ass, feeling my load drip out of him.

"Oh, do that again." He says, holding my arms in place to do it again. I squeeze again with a little bit more aggression and he shivers. "All of these sensations. It's so different from one body to another." He takes a deep breath, smelling me. Seeing him act like this was making me hard again and I gyrated against him. He smirks with a flash of his green eyes and then reaches back, pulling his cheeks apart and slamming himself down on my cock with an already full ass.

"Holy fuck." I writhe under him.

"Like I said, I could do this forever." He gives me a wet kiss.

A phone buzzes underneath a pile of papers and continues to vibrate until the phone buzzes off the edge of the desk and thumps against the wood floor below. A hand blindly reaches for it and answers it.

"Hello?" The voice is deep and he clears his throat from the early wake up haze. With one hand he wipes away a string of drool connected to the desk where he passed out the night before with an empty glass of hard liquor now watered down by the melted ice.

"It's the Daemon Ritus. It's been stolen." The voice on the other end seemed to be screaming over the sound of the alarms and the man on the phone stood there in silence.

"Fred? Are you there?" The alarms continued to blare as Fred stood there already formulating a plan.

[muiitoloko]

Hi could you please write a Harry (love actually) x reader in which reader is his wife who suspects that he’s cheating and sees the necklace in his coat and basically follows the plot with the gifts exchange and him giving reader something else causing her to cry, however unlike the movie he later when alone gifts it to reader and he tells her that his receptionist does try to seduce him but no one can come near to reader

Thanks in advance!

Title: Threads of Forgiveness

Summary: A wife discovers a hidden necklace in her husband’s pocket, unraveling doubts about his fidelity. As truths are confronted, they navigate the fragility of love and the strength of forgiveness.

Pairing: Harry ( Love Actually) × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst

Author's Notes: Thank you for your request!

Also read on Ao3

You folded the laundry, mechanically smoothing out each piece of clothing, trying to suppress the storm of emotions raging within you. The expensive necklace you’d found in Harry’s pocket earlier that day had burned a hole through your composure. You tried to rationalize it—Maybe it’s not what it looks like, you thought. But the implication loomed over you, undeniable and suffocating.

A necklace like that wasn’t something Harry would buy for just anyone. Certainly not for you, his wife, who had received a Joni Mitchell CD as a Christmas gift just days ago. A thoughtful gift, perhaps, but hardly one to match the elegance of the necklace. If it wasn’t for you, who could it possibly be for?

Another woman.

Your breath hitched at the thought, and you paused mid-fold, your hands trembling as you pressed them to your face. The tears threatened to spill, but you bit them back, inhaling deeply to regain control. You’d spent years devoted to Harry, sacrificing your own dreams to care for him, to nurture his son, Hadrian. Was this how it all ended? With your husband straying to someone younger, someone… shinier?

“Mom?” a small voice called, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You quickly wiped at your eyes and turned to see Hadrian standing in the doorway, his 10-year-old frame silhouetted by the hallway light. He looked at you with a furrowed brow, concern evident in his hazel eyes—the same eyes that always reminded you of Harry.

“Can you make me a sandwich?” he asked hesitantly, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

You forced a smile, shaking your head. “I’m busy right now, sweetheart. But there’s turkey breast in the fridge. You can make one yourself, can’t you?”

Hadrian nodded but lingered in the doorway, his gaze searching your face. “Are you okay, Mom? You look… tired.”

Your heart ached at his observation, but you managed to keep your voice steady. “I’m fine, Hadrian. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

He seemed to accept your answer, nodding again before heading downstairs. You watched him go, your chest tight with the effort of keeping it together. Once you were alone again, you sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at the neatly folded laundry with unseeing eyes.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Harry sat on the living room couch, his gaze fixed on the television but his mind elsewhere. A Christmas movie played in the background, but he couldn’t focus on it. His thoughts kept drifting to the necklace hidden in the drawer of his office desk. He didn’t even know why he’d bought it. Or maybe he did.

The intention had been clear at the time: to give it to Mia, his secretary. For weeks, she’d been lingering a little too long by his desk, her flirtations growing bolder. And Harry… he hadn’t pushed her away. If anything, he’d enjoyed the attention. It had been so long since he’d felt wanted, noticed, desired.

Things with you had changed after Hadrian was born. Not overnight, but slowly, like a ship drifting further and further from shore. Your world seemed to revolve around your son, and Harry couldn’t help but feel like an afterthought. He told himself it was selfish to feel that way, but the longing for connection, for intimacy, was a heavy burden.

Still, as he sat there, the box in his desk drawer felt like a physical weight. Could he really go through with it? Could he betray the woman who had stood by him, loved him, and built a life with him? Could he cheat on the mother of his son with someone younger, someone who made him feel alive again but whose allure was nothing more than a fleeting spark?

A loud thudding sound startled him out of his thoughts. Harry turned to see Hadrian bounding down the stairs, his steps echoing through the house.

“Hadrian!” Harry barked, his baritone voice sharp. “How many times have I told you not to run down the stairs? You’ll break your neck!”

Hadrian skidded to a halt at the bottom, wide-eyed at his father’s tone. “Sorry, Dad,” he mumbled, clutching his half-made sandwich.

Harry sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Just… be careful, alright?” he said, his voice softening. “Go eat your sandwich.”

Hadrian nodded and shuffled off to the kitchen, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts once more. He leaned back against the couch, his glasses catching the flickering light of the TV. His hazel eyes stared unseeingly at the screen as he grappled with the weight of his actions—or, rather, his inaction.

The box in the desk drawer loomed large in his mind, a decision waiting to be made. Would he open it and let it define his choices? Or would he bury it, along with the temptation that had brought him to this point?

Upstairs, you sat in silence, staring out the window at the falling snow, the quiet of the room broken only by the soft rustle of the curtains. Unspoken questions swirled in your mind, threatening to drown you.

And downstairs, Harry stared at the screen, his chest tight with indecision.

Two hearts, two minds, two paths converging on a truth neither of you wanted to face.

The box. The necklace. The shame. His jaw clenched as he rubbed a hand over his face, pushing his glasses further up his nose. No, he couldn’t let this fester. He wouldn’t stay like this—paralyzed by his mistakes, his cowardice.

With a deep breath, he stood, the decision made in the steel of his resolve. The television flicked off with a click, and the room fell silent except for the faint hum of the radiator. Harry crossed to his office, his heart pounding as he pulled open the desk drawer. Beneath a stack of papers and old receipts, his fingers found the small velvet box. He stared at it for a long moment, his hazel eyes clouded with self-loathing and determination.

This was it.

He climbed the stairs, each step feeling like a penance, and made his way to your shared bedroom. There you were, sitting by the window, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. You didn’t turn when you heard him enter; your silence felt colder than the winter night outside.

“Can we talk?” Harry asked, his baritone voice unusually soft, almost pleading.

You didn’t respond, your gaze remaining fixed on the falling snow. He hesitated but then moved closer, his steps careful, deliberate. He knelt before you, his glasses catching the faint light, his hooked nose silhouetted against the soft shadow of the room.

“Please, love,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly as he reached out to caress your knee. The touch was hesitant, unsure, but still familiar. “Look at me.”

Slowly, you turned your head, your eyes meeting his. The pain in your gaze hit him like a punch to the gut. He swallowed hard and placed the velvet box on your lap, his hand lingering there for a moment as if afraid you might push it away.

“What’s this?” you asked, your voice steady but cold.

Harry exhaled shakily, lowering his gaze to the floor before looking back up at you. “It’s a necklace,” he began, his voice trembling as he spoke. “I bought it… for Mia.”

The words felt like knives, each syllable cutting deeper into the fragile fabric of trust between you. Your breath hitched, and Harry quickly continued, his tone desperate.

“She’s my secretary,” he admitted, his hazel eyes searching yours for some glimmer of understanding. “She’s been… persistent, trying to… get closer. And I—” He faltered, his voice thick with shame. “I didn’t stop her attention. I let it feed a part of me that felt… empty.”

You stiffened, your fingers clenching around the edge of the box. “Empty?” The word fell from your lips, sharp and accusatory.

“Yes,” Harry said, his voice breaking as he leaned forward, his hands gripping your thighs. “Since Hadrian was born, everything’s been about him. I don’t blame you for that—I love him, too—but I’ve felt… neglected, invisible. Like I wasn’t enough for you anymore.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but they didn’t fall. You looked down at the man kneeling before you, his face etched with regret, his hands trembling as they clung to you.

“But I couldn’t do it,” Harry continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I couldn’t give it to her. Because no one compares to you. No one. You’re the one who deserves this, not her. You’re the woman I love, the mother of my son, the person who’s given me a life worth living.”

You said nothing, your gaze fixed on the box in your lap. Slowly, you set it aside, and Harry’s breath hitched as he buried his face in your lap, his shoulders trembling. “Please,” he begged, his voice muffled but raw. “Forgive me. I was a fool. I let my loneliness drive me to the edge, but I swear I never crossed it. I love you. Only you.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity and regret. You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the tension in his body as he clung to you. Before you could respond, a voice called from downstairs, breaking the moment.

“Mom!” Hadrian shouted. “Where’s the peanut butter?”

Harry groaned against your lap, his voice muffled but laced with frustration. “Bloody hell, that kid has the worst timing.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, despite the turmoil in your chest. You gently pushed Harry back, his hazel eyes looking up at you, still filled with vulnerability. “Go help him find it,” you said softly, your voice wavering.

“But—” Harry began, his hand tightening on your thigh.

“Go,” you repeated, more firmly this time. “We’ll talk more later.”

“No.” Harry’s voice was resolute as he pushed himself to kneel upright, his hands sliding up to your waist. “Hadrian can find it himself. I need to make things right with you. Now.”

You hesitated, your lips parting to speak, but Hadrian’s voice interrupted again, louder this time. “Mom! I still can’t find it!”

Harry turned sharply toward the door, his baritone voice booming. “Hadrian! Check the upstairs cupboard, behind the cereal!”

A few moments of silence passed before a triumphant yell echoed from downstairs. “Found it!”

Harry sighed, shaking his head as he muttered, “That boy…”

You laughed softly, and the sound seemed to melt some of the tension in the room. Harry turned back to you, his hazel eyes locking onto yours. His hands came up, firm and commanding, cupping your face as he tilted your head slightly to meet his gaze.

“Don’t laugh at me, love,” he said, his voice low, the playful edge tinged with something darker. “I’m not done begging.”

Your breath hitched as he leaned closer, his hooked nose brushing yours, his warm breath mingling with your own. His thumbs stroked your cheeks, his touch both possessive and tender.

“Harry,” you whispered, your hands coming up to cover his. Your fingers trembled as they closed around his wrists, and he stilled, waiting. “I need to know… Did you sleep with her?”

His hazel eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly, fiercely. “No,” he said, his voice breaking slightly with the weight of his denial. “No, I swear to you, I didn’t. I thought about it, yes. I entertained the idea for a moment, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.” His grip on your face tightened just slightly, his desperation evident. “You have to believe me.”

Your forehead dropped against his, your breaths shallow as you tried to process the flood of emotions. His hands remained on your face, steadying you, grounding you.

“I believe you,” you finally whispered, your voice trembling. “But, Harry… If you feel neglected, if you’re lonely… you have to tell me. I can’t fix what I don’t know is broken.”

He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling a shaky breath. “You’re right. I should’ve told you. I let it fester, and I… I was a bloody fool. I’m sorry.”

Your hands slid down to his chest, your fingers brushing over the soft fabric of his sweater. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. “We can’t let this happen again,” you murmured, your voice steadier now. “If something’s wrong, we talk about it. Promise me.”

“I promise,” Harry replied immediately, his baritone voice low and rough with emotion. His hands slid from your face to your waist, pulling you closer. “But let me show you something else right now. Let me remind you of what you mean to me.”

You felt the heat of his words, the intensity of his gaze as his fingers pressed into your waist. A spark ignited between you, the tension shifting from uncertainty to something far more primal.

“Harry,” you murmured, your voice wavering as his lips brushed the corner of your mouth, his breath hot against your skin.

“Shh,” he murmured back, his voice a velvet growl. “Let me worship you, love. Let me remind you that no one else could ever make me feel the way you do. No one else could ever compare to my wife.”

Your resolve wavered as his lips trailed along your jaw, his hands sliding up your back to pull you flush against him. He paused, his nose nuzzling your ear, and his voice dropped to a husky whisper.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he said, his words laced with possessiveness. “Tell me no one else gets to touch you, to see you like this.”

You shivered, your hands gripping his shoulders as you whispered back, “I’m yours, Harry. Only yours.”

A low growl rumbled in his chest as he claimed your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was raw, desperate, a silent vow that he would never take you for granted again. As he pulled you into his arms, the snow continued to fall outside, but neither of you noticed, lost in the warmth of each other.

Harry’s lips left yours reluctantly, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to steady his breathing. But the sound of a small voice broke the spell.

“Yuck,” Hadrian muttered, his words muffled by the bite of sandwich in his mouth.

You both turned sharply toward the doorway to see your son standing there, a smug little grin on his face. He was holding his sandwich with one hand, the other planted firmly on his hip, looking at you as if he’d caught you both committing a crime.

“Hadrian,” Harry growled, his baritone voice filled with exasperation as he straightened up, adjusting his glasses. “What have I told you about knocking before entering?”

Hadrian shrugged, clearly unbothered. “The door was already open.”

“That’s not the point,” Harry replied, his hazel eyes narrowing behind his glasses. He crossed his arms, his hooked nose accentuating the stern expression he was trying to maintain. “You still announce yourself. It’s called manners, young man.”

Hadrian took another bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully as he tilted his head. “Why do I have to knock if you’re just kissing Mom? It’s not like you’re doing anything weird.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly stood from your chair, brushing imaginary crumbs off your pants. “Hadrian,” you said firmly, though your voice wavered with suppressed laughter, “what do you need, sweetheart?”

Hadrian swallowed his bite, then smiled brightly. “Can we watch a movie together? All of us?”

Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he muttered under his breath, “This boy and his timing.”

You shot Harry a warning glance, your lips twitching with amusement as you addressed your son. “Of course, we can. Go pick out a movie, and we’ll join you in a minute.”

Hadrian’s face lit up, and he turned to dash off but paused halfway down the hall, spinning around. “But it has to be one we all like! No boring grown-up movies, okay?”

“No boring grown-up movies,” you agreed, chuckling. “Now, go pick one.”

Once Hadrian was out of sight, Harry let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair and mussing it slightly. He turned to you, his hazel eyes filled with a mix of exasperation and fondness. “That boy will be the death of me,” he muttered.

You reached out, smoothing down the tousled strands of his hair. “He’s your son, Harry. You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Harry gave you a crooked smile, his hooked nose twitching slightly as he leaned in to press a quick, chaste kiss to your lips. “True,” he admitted. “But he could learn better timing.”

You laughed, looping your arm through his as you both made your way downstairs. “Consider it payback for all those times you’ve interrupted me mid-thought or while I was busy with something important.”

He raised an eyebrow, mock offense in his baritone voice. “I’d never interrupt my beloved wife so carelessly.”

“Hmm,” you teased, patting his arm. “Sure you wouldn’t, love.”

When you reached the living room, Hadrian was already curled up on the couch, clutching a DVD in his hands. “I picked The Incredibles!” he announced proudly, holding it up like a trophy.

Harry groaned dramatically, sinking into the couch next to him. “Superheroes again?”

Hadrian nodded enthusiastically. “You’ll love it, Dad. It’s about a family, and you always say we’re a super team, right?”

Harry glanced at you, his hazel eyes softening as he gave a resigned smile. “Alright, champ,” he said, ruffling Hadrian’s hair. “Let’s see if this family can live up to ours.”

You joined them on the couch, snuggling close to Harry as he put an arm around you. Hadrian nestled between you both, the TV glowing softly as the movie began.

And for the first time in what felt like ages, you felt truly at peace—together, as a family.

[calsvoid]

ten (sorta) thoughts on squid game season 2 (SPOILERS):

1. holy fuck this season was so beautiful and the creative genius behind it was so wonderful

2. the rock paper scissors minus one scene has got to be the most intense game scene out of every single one (not game, but game SCENE, as in watching these two friends who i didn’t even care about half a second before be forced to bet their lives against each other only for one of them to be placed with a guaranteed win and not take it was probably the craziest thing to ever happen and fuck having that be the first episode truly through me for a spin)

3. speaking of, the guy that lived (who is known as guy with the wife because me and my brother kept saying that he has a wife as a reason why we want him to live) is one of my favs for no reason, i hope he gets out alright DONT YOU DARE DO ANYTHING TO HIM CAP’N I TRUSTED YOU

4. i knew as soon as they started having two girls bond i was done for and i spent every moment of theirs begging for both of them to live because i think i’ve seen this film before and i didn’t like the ending

5. soooooo many characters and character dynamics were just absolute chef’s kiss and it helps so much with that buildup of hope and tension; last season obviously had some wonderful people and relationships (i’m still not and never will be over the marble game) but something about this new cast was just absolutely wonderful. there were almost no characters i didn’t like or wasn’t invested in, and i am very excited to see how they turn out next season. hyun-ju’s group, gi-hun’s group, hell even thanos’s group i enjoyed all of them. min-su’s betrayal fucked me up so bad though and him failing to save her and having to see her die FUCK. also young-mi’s death was so painful, especially since she was the first main group member death. the mom and son were hilarious im going to fight god if they don’t end up together in either life or death

6. all about women’s rights and women’s wrongs this season, number 11 i love you and i hope you find your child i will kill your almost rapists for you. i don’t care that i hate the military hyun-ju is hot with a gun and she can fuck me with one of she wants. i pray for that fetus please let them get out alive. the mom was fantastic and such a nostalgic character, very accurate portrayal of an auntie and i love her for that. shaman queen is batshit crazy and good for her

7. the set design yall fucking BEAUTIFUL. i can’t describe it, but it just adds so much to that deceitful hope with all the rainbows and clean lines. and also the use of the stairs during the gun fights, ugh so amazing what a great way to repurpose that set

8. ALSO THE ADDED KNOWLEDGE OF THE SOLDIERS SIDE, god i love the extra lore behind their recruitment, their system, all that. loved the twist and as i’ve said i love number 11 shes my queen

9. god seong gi-hun had me ROOTING for him. his sheer determination was felt by me too and i really hoped that he would finally get to get justice, that finale just hurt all that much more

10. i wanted so badly for inho to end up having a semi-redemption arc even though it was unlikely, i unfortunately fell for his manipulation and wanted to believe in him god it hurt watching him use the sounds of someone else’s death to trick gi-hun

[cs-fox]

DOMESTIC SIMON VS UR VIOLIN HICKEY 🤭

Simon had met you when you’d performed at a task force get together, as a solo violinist. He’d been enchanted by your playing and even singing - which you blended perfectly together - and eventually worked up the courage to ask for your number.

He still lived for the times when he came home from service to the sweet sound of your playing.

Simon would watch, entranced, as your body swayed gently, your bow gliding across the strings of your instrument, coaxing an impossibly dulcet tone. Your eyes would flutter closed, and only fly open when his arms found their way around your waist.

‘Keep playing,’ he mumbled.

And you complied, for another twenty minutes, until you set your violin down, loosened the bow, and allowed his arms to swallow you up.

Then -

‘What’s this, sweet’eart?’

You felt breath, hot breath, flooding over your collarbone. Looking down curiously, you find a round blemish - not unlike a bruise.

‘Is there something you need to tell me?’

You giggled, nodding gently. ‘I’ve been having an affair with my violin,’ and Simon had never looked more confused.

‘It’s a violin hickey, Si,’ you laughed.

‘Wha’?’

Poor man, he looked so dumbfounded at this revelation.

You explained to him that because you were wearing only a singlet and your violin’s body rubbed against your neck, along with the shoulder rest, it could cause a small, pinched bruise to form. Especially if you’d been playing for a few hours.

‘Oh.’

‘I’d never leave you for someone else, Si,’ you said softly. ‘I promise.’

‘Alrigh’. I’m getting a little jealous of your violin, though, lovie.’

You squealed as he gently pushed you against the wall, warm, damp lips already attached, leech-like, to your neck.

‘On’y one you’re gonna be making music for is me, understand?’

[thollandsgirl2013]

I have an idea for a mob tom fanfic it's where Tom and the reader are best friends ( since childhood) but she doesn't know that he's a mob boss. Tom has been secretly in love with her but doesn't want to pursue her due to all the danger that she will be in. One day, a rival of toms figures out that she is Tom's weakness and decides to kidnap her

Thanks for the request! Hope you enjoy it. Sorry it took so long.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬

Parings → Mob! Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings → fluff, kidnapping, violence, angst, happy ending.

Summary → Tom saves you from his rival and finally confesses his feelings.

(gif not mine)

You wiped your hands on your apron, glancing at the clock above the café counter. Five minutes until closing. As you started stacking chairs, the familiar chime of the doorbell rang.

“Cutting it close, aren’t we?” You teased without looking, already knowing who it was.

“Had to see my favorite barista before the day ended,” Tom quipped, strolling in with that infuriatingly smug grin of his.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re lucky I don’t charge you double for all the ‘favors’ you ask for.”

“Favors? Darling, I call it your way of expressing undying devotion.”

“Undying devotion?” You echoed, crossing your arms. “Don’t flatter yourself, Holland.”

He laughed, a warm, rich sound that never failed to make you smile, even when you didn’t want to. Tom had always been like this—cocky, confident, and impossible to resist.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing a stool and sitting across from you. “Let me at least walk you home tonight. Can’t have you wandering the streets alone.”

You shook your head, already used to his overprotectiveness. “I’m perfectly capable of walking home, you know.”

“I know,” he said, his tone softening as he leaned forward. “But I’d feel better if I came with you.”

“Why? Afraid someone’s going to kidnap me?” You teased.

Tom froze for the briefest second, his jaw tightening before he forced a smile. “Something like that.”

You frowned, sensing the tension beneath his playful tone. “Tom, are you—”

“I’m fine,” he cut in, standing abruptly. “Let’s get going, yeah?”

---------

Across the street, hidden in the shadows, Vincent and his men watched the scene unfold.

“There she is,” Vincent muttered, his gaze fixed on you as you walked out of the café with Tom. “The infamous best friend.”

One of his men chuckled. “She doesn’t look like much.”

“No, but she seems everything to Holland,” Vincent said, a cruel smile spreading across his face. “You see the way he looks at her? Like she’s the last good thing in his life. That makes her valuable. Makes her a weapon.”

He took a long drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing in the darkness. “We’ll hit him where it hurts. And when he’s broken, we’ll take everything else.”

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

The smell of damp concrete and rust filled your nostrils as you woke, disoriented and aching. The sharp edges of zip ties cut into your wrists, and the cold metal chair beneath you offered no comfort.

You blinked, trying to focus on your surroundings. The warehouse was dimly lit, shadows flickering along the walls.

“Well, well,” a voice drawled, breaking the silence. “Look who’s finally awake.”

You turned to see a man stepping out of the shadows, his smirk sending a chill down your spine.

“Who the hell are you?” You demanded, your voice hoarse but steady.

“The guy who’s going to bring your little boyfriend to his knees,” he said, his grin widening.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you snapped, your mind racing.

“Don’t play dumb,” he said, pulling out a chair and sitting across from you. “Tom Holland. Your precious boy. He’d do anything for you, wouldn’t he?”

Your heart sank, but you kept your expression neutral. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” he sneered. “We’ve been watching you two. Laughing over coffee, walking home together like you don’t have a care in the world. Makes me sick, honestly. But it’s sweet, in a way. You’re his Achilles’ heel.”

“Tom isn’t—” you started, but he cut you off.

“Don’t bother denying it,” he said. “We’ve seen enough to know the truth. And now, we’re going to use you to destroy him.”

He pulled out a phone, dialing a number. You stayed quiet, your mind racing. Panic clawed at you, but you shoved it down. If what they said was true—if Tom was really involved in something dangerous—then you couldn’t afford to lose your cool.

The phone connected, and you heard Tom’s voice on the other end.

“Holland,” he said, his tone sharp.

“Evening, Tommy boy,” the man said, grinning. “Guess who I’ve got here with me?”

You met his gaze, defiance burning in your chest. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you scared.

“Tom, don’t come,” you said firmly, cutting through the man’s taunts. “They’re trying to use me against you. It’s not worth it.”

“Y/n?” Tom’s voice softened, but there was an edge of steel beneath it. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” you said quickly. “But—”

The man yanked the phone away, smirking. “Touching. Really. But here’s the deal, Holland. You come alone, or she dies.”

“Vincent, if you harm her—”

“Save the threats,” Vincent said, hanging up.

---------

The warehouse was eerily silent as Tom stepped inside, his movements confident and deliberate. His sharp suit, tousled hair, and cold expression gave him an air of power that made even Vincent hesitate.

“You actually came alone,” Vincent noted, circling him like a predator.

“Of course,” Tom said, his tone casual. “You’d be dead already if I hadn’t.”

Vincent laughed, though it sounded forced. “Big talk for a man who’s outnumbered.”

Tom’s gaze flickered to you, tied to the chair but glaring daggers at your captors. Relief flashed in his eyes for a moment before his mask slipped back into place.

“You alright, love?” He asked, his voice soft.

“Fine,” you said firmly. “Just waiting to get free and go home.”

Tom smirked. “That’s my girl.”

Before Vincent could react, Tom moved.

He grabbed the nearest man, twisting his arm and using him as a shield as bullets erupted around the room. In the chaos, Tom disarmed another man, delivering a brutal punch that sent him sprawling.

You watched in awe as Tom took down Vincent’s men with ruthless efficiency, his movements quick and precise.

When the last man fell, Tom turned to Vincent, who was cowering near the door.

“You made a mistake,” Tom said, advancing on him. “And now you’re going to pay for it.”

----------

Tom knelt in front of you, his hands surprisingly gentle as he cut through the zip ties.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his fingers brushing your wrists. “I’m sorry. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“You think?” You snapped, though your anger was tempered by the relief of seeing him alive. “How long were you going to keep this from me?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Forever, if I could.”

“Tom,” you said, your voice cracking. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to look at me like that,” he admitted, his voice raw. “Like you’re scared of me.”

“I’m not scared of you,” you said firmly, grabbing his hand. “I’m scared for you. If this is your life, Tom, what’s going to stop them from coming after you again? Or me?”

“I’ll protect you,” he said, his tone resolute. “Always.”

You wanted to believe him. And maybe, despite everything, you did.

“Let’s go to my place. Your flat might not be safe right now,” Tom said softly, wrapping his arm protectively around your shoulder.

You didn’t respond, staring straight ahead instead. Fury boiled inside you, but you forced yourself to stay silent. Not here. Not until you were somewhere safe.

The car ride was quiet, the hum of the engine filling the tense air. Tom’s fingers occasionally flexed against the steering wheel, a sign of his own nerves. The streets were familiar at first, but as he drove further, the landscape changed. Soon, towering gates loomed in front of a sprawling mansion.

“This isn’t your flat, Tom,” you said, your voice sharp. “Where are we?”

Tom glanced at you but kept driving as the gates opened automatically. “It’s my mansion, darling. Every Holland has their own mansion.”

You stared at him, mouth slightly agape. The words felt surreal. This boy—the one you’d known since middle school, who teased you over coffee and shared fries with you after school—had a mansion.

You knew Tom came from a wealthy family. The Hollands owned Holland Inc., a global empire, but he’d always seemed so grounded, so… normal. Now, you weren’t sure who he was anymore.

The car came to a stop, and Tom quickly got out, opening your door. You stepped out reluctantly, your eyes scanning the grand property. The mansion was breathtaking, with intricate stonework, massive windows, and sprawling gardens illuminated by soft golden lights.

“Come on,” he urged, gently guiding you inside.

The interior was even more overwhelming—high ceilings, elegant chandeliers, and furniture that screamed luxury. You sank into a massive leather couch in the living room, feeling utterly out of place. Tom knelt in front of you, his hands hovering as if unsure whether to touch you.

“Do you need anything? Are you hurt? Did they—did they do anything to you?” His voice was a rapid-fire mix of concern and panic.

You stared at him, heart pounding. The worry in his eyes was real, but it wasn’t enough to suppress the storm brewing inside you.

“Do I need anything?” You repeated, your voice rising. “Yeah, Tom, I need answers! What the hell was that? Who were those men? Why did they kidnap me? What you're involved in? And how—how do you have a mansion?”

“Darling—”

“No!” You cut him off, standing abruptly. “Don’t you ‘Darling’ me! You’ve been lying to me, Tom! All these years, all this time, you’ve been hiding this entire life from me. And now I’m supposed to just… what? Sit here and act like everything’s fine?”

Tom ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident. “I wasn’t lying—”

“Not telling me is the same as lying!” you snapped. “I thought I knew you, Tom. But clearly, I don’t. So start talking. Who were those men? Were they business rivals? Criminals? What are you involved in?”

Tom stood, pacing the room. “It’s complicated.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Complicated? Oh, that’s rich. Try me, Tom. I’ve just been kidnapped, threatened, and used as bait. I think I can handle ‘complicated.’”

He stopped, turning to face you. “They weren’t business rivals.”

“Then who—”

“They were after me because of my other work,” he admitted, his voice low.

Your stomach dropped. “Other work?”

Tom hesitated, his jaw clenching. “I… I do things. For my family. To protect what’s ours.”

“What does that mean?” You asked, your voice trembling.

“I handle threats. People who try to destroy us, take what’s ours, or hurt the people we care about,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “That’s why they came after you. They thought they could use you to get to me.”

You stepped back, shaking your head. “So what? You’re some kind of… Mobstar?”

Tom sighed, running a hand down his face. “Kind of?”

“Kind of, Tom?” You demanded. “Because from where I’m standing, it sounds a lot like you’re living in some mob movie, and I’ve been dragged into it without even knowing!”

“I didn’t want you involved,” he said, his voice cracking. “I kept it from you to keep you safe.”

“Well, that worked out great,” you said bitterly, gesturing to yourself. “Do you even realize how terrified I was? Not just for me, but for you? I thought—God, Tom, I thought they were going to kill you!”

Tom closed the distance between you, his hands reaching for yours. “I’m sorry. I swear, Y/n, I never wanted this to happen. I thought I could keep you out of it. I thought I could protect you.”

You pulled your hands away, tears stinging your eyes. “Protect me? Tom, you can’t protect me if you don’t let me in. You’re not invincible. You can’t keep carrying this on your own.”

“I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re the only good thing in my life, Y/n. The only thing that keeps me sane.”

Your heart ached at the raw vulnerability in his voice, but it didn’t erase the betrayal you felt. “Then stop shutting me out,” you said softly. “If you want me in your life, Tom, you can’t keep lying to me. I deserve the truth, no matter how ugly it is.”

Tom stared at you, his eyes searching yours. Finally, he nodded. “Alright. No more lies. No more secrets.”

You swallowed hard, nodding back. “Good. Because I can’t do this if I don’t know what I’m up against.”

“I’ll tell you everything,” he promised, his hand hovering near yours. “Just… don’t walk away from me.”

You hesitated, then let him take your hand. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

For the first time that night, Tom smiled. It was small and tentative, but it was enough.

Tom hesitated, before taking your hands in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as if grounding himself. There was something more—something he was struggling to say.

“I need to tell you another secret,” he murmured, his voice low and unsteady. “And after this… there will be no more secrets. I promise.”

Your brow furrowed, a mix of curiosity and trepidation stirring in your chest. “What is it, Tom?”

He took a deep breath, his eyes darting away for a moment before locking back onto yours. You’d never seen him this vulnerable before, and it made your heart ache despite the storm of emotions still swirling inside you.

“I, um… I really…I mean.... I--” He stumbled over his words, his usual confident demeanor cracking.

“Spill it, Tom,” you said, a hint of impatience creeping into your voice.

“I love you, Y/n,” he blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush like he’d been holding them back for years. “Not just as my best friend. I love you as someone I want to be with. I want you to be my future.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his confession pressing down on you. His eyes searched yours desperately, as if trying to gauge your reaction, as if the entire world hung on the next words you’d say.

You stared at him, your mind reeling. “Tom…”

“I know this is a lot,” he continued quickly, panic flickering across his face. “And I know I should’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t want to ruin what we have. I didn’t want to lose you. But after tonight… after almost losing you… I couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

You blinked, trying to process the flood of emotions his words stirred in you. Anger, confusion, relief, and… something deeper. Something that made your heart race.

“Tom,” you finally said, your voice softer now. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Because I was scared. Scared you didn’t feel the same way. Scared it’d mess everything up.”

You stared at him for a moment longer before taking a step closer. “You’re an idiot,” you said, though there was no heat in your voice.

He looked at you, his brows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You’re an idiot, Tom Holland. Of course I love you too. Did you really think I wouldn’t?”

His eyes widened, hope blooming on his face. “You… you do?”

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips despite everything. “Yeah, I do. But don’t think this gets you out of trouble for keeping secrets.”

Tom let out a breathless laugh, his shoulders sagging in relief. “I’ll take whatever trouble you want to give me, as long as I get to keep you.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as he pulled you into a tight hug, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

And in that moment, for all the chaos and questions still lingering, you felt a little closer to finding your footing again. Together.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ° .•