#I have mixed feelings on it. but I don’t hate it.

[nnnyxie]

o em gee !! i luv these things !!

guacamole — mixed opinions tbh <//3 i’m honestly pretty picky… i like it but i don’t like the type with raw tomatoes with cilantro. the onions i don’t mind tho >_< i actually kind of like them (cooked)

olives — it depends on the type… i love black olives but i haaaaaaate green and greek olives….. greek olives have such a weird texture, they make my tongue feel ick… and green olives just have a weird taste, they’re too salty and weirdly sour.

mangos — idk! i haven’t had the real fruit… but from what i’ve tasted with the mango monster… i love (i love monster too)

hummus — hate !!! it so much. the texture is just EUGH and the taste !! i have nothing else to say…… not a single positive thing……

tomatoes — i don’t like raw tomatoes or it’s juice forms… i’m okay with cooked ones if i’m the one that cooks it— like in my curry!! and i’ll only have tomato soup if my best friend makes it :p

cannolis — a staple in italian dessert. i absolutely love them. i love strawberry cannolis most !! our truck is actually named cannoli <3 but our truck is named cannoli cause i thought the license plate said cannoli………

tags (no pressure)

@ziipzeepzop-eez @wyrcan @lllunaverde @cloudsvna

FOOD DISCOURSE: reblog with ur opinions on guacamole, olives, mango, hummus, tomatoes, and cannolis

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Shelter - 4

Summary: You saved Soap's life. And you might need more than some ice. Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley/F!Reader (No Y/N) Warnings For This Chapter: Continued military inaccuracies, my attempt at writing accents, slow burn romance, canon typical violence, Soft!Simon, and descriptions of injuries A/N: Thank you for all the comments on the last chapter! As an aside, while there is no smut in this story yet, my blog is strictly MDNI. And do not feed my fic into c.AI. Thanks!

Previous Chapter

The gas station (you were ignoring how Soap said it was a petrol station) was a dump but you weren’t about to complain because the grimy bathroom was the first place you could be by yourself. It wasn’t as if you could ask the men for some space in the cramped SUV. Saying you needed to use the restroom was a good enough excuse, you supposed, even if Ghost said he’d be standing right outside the door.

It was weirdly comforting.

For a moment, at least.

The bathroom’s mirror was cracked and had a film on it that clouded your reflection. It was probably for the best because the skin of your neck was so discolored it had angry, stupid tears burning your eyes. Every breath hurt. In or out, it didn’t matter. It ached. And you could see where the dead man’s fingers had wrapped around your throat. The whites of your eyes had been almost completely overridden by red. Your right was worse than your left, but that wasn’t saying much. You weren’t sure how long you’d been in the car but it must have been hours before Price deemed it safe “enough” for the pit stop in the middle of nowhere.

You’d been squished into the SUV’s floorboards for an indeterminate amount of time before Simon hauled you up into the seat beside him, and Price and Gaz asked you question after question about what had happened in your bedroom. You answered honestly, your voice scratchy and hoarse. It was when you mentioned that the man who had attacked you wanted to know what you had learned about the men you lived with that they went quiet.

“Which is kind of ridiculous, you know,” you’d said, your mind spinning from the earlier lack of oxygen and the absolute chaos of what had followed. “I don’t even know your real names.”

The men didn’t ask anything else after that but Ghost did place a familiar blanket over your lap and told you to go to sleep. And now you were in your pajamas—the loose joggers and oversized shirt the only clothes you had left now that the safehouse was burnt down—and shoes that Gaz had found god knows where that were two sizes too big.

How had your life gone to shit so quickly and spectacularly? All you had wanted to do was take a damn vacation and be there for your sister. And now people wanted you dead, thought you knew something about the men you were unwittingly living with, and knew you had probably heard something in the tunnels.

Great. Just…great.

A few of the tears escaped and you sniffled with a grimace as you wiped at your cheeks. You hated crying and you had cried more in the weeks since the tunnel than you had in the last five years combined. Not a milestone you’d been hoping to achieve, honestly.

And you weren’t about to splash whatever water came out of that dirty tap on your face to feel better. Clamping your eyes shut, you willed the tears to stop and nearly screamed when you saw Ghost lurking behind you when you opened them again. “What is wrong with you?”

“Got you something.”

And instead of just handing whatever he had to you—like a normal person—his giant hands clapped over your hips and he picked you up, sitting you down on the edge of the disgusting sink. The noise that punched out of you, an embarrassing mix between a squeak and a hiss, was almost immediately snuffed out by a whimper when the entirety of your throat protested, heat snapping at every single nerve ending like the crack of a whip.

Ghost stared at you for a moment but he didn’t even blink as he reached into one of his (many) pockets and pulled out a tube of…something. You couldn’t read the label with the bulk of his hand covering it.

“What is that?”

“Tip your head up.”

“No.”

He paused again before pressing a knuckle to the point of your chin. “Did a number on you.”

You didn’t dignify that with a response but you did glance down when you heard the tube’s lid snap open. And then to your surprise, he peeled a glove from one of his hands.

He had thick fingers. Scarred and bruised but dexterous, you surmised. A hint of a tattoo poked out from beneath the edge of his sleeve. He squeezed the tube and a white cream spilled out, curling around itself before he capped it again. And you weren’t entirely sure why but you didn’t pull away when he raised it to your neck. The shiver it pulled out of you couldn’t be helped. His fingers swirled around your throat, rubbing the lotion into your tender skin without a word. The cream was cold but you could feel the heat of him and his movements were gentle. Soft.

Like you were something delicate.

And maybe in comparison to his usual crowd, you were. But no one had treated you like this in a long time. And this close you could see the black smudge around his eyes had started to fade, flecking away from the long hours. And he had long, pale lashes around his dark brown eyes. There was a scar bisecting one of his brows, disappearing beneath the edges of his mask. His nose had probably been broken a time or two, resulting in the strangely cute way it flattened and curved to the side beneath his mask. (What is wrong with you? What is wrong with you? What is wrong with you?)

The scent of the cream was comforting, scratching at some long forgotten scene from your past. It took you a moment to realize it was arnica cream. It would help with the bruising—and if you remembered correctly, probably help with the smallest bit of the pain, too. He had been strangely gentle with you last night, too, even with the threat of violence that had preceded it. His hand on the back of your neck had been grounding and calming. And that’s definitely all it was. Not the most erotic thing that’s happened to you in years.

“Thank you, by the way.” Your voice was scratchy and every word hurt but you did need to say it. He had come for you. “For saving me last night.”

“Seemed like you had it ‘andled. Never seen a lamp used like that.” He smeared a little more lotion into your skin and you heard his laugh again. You were both quiet as he continued, slowly rubbing the lotion into your neck until the entirety of it was covered.

“Would now be a bad time to ask if I can see my sister?” You asked as he handed you the tube, finished.

Ghost just looked at you, not even blinking.

“Please? Soap said he’d talk to someone about it for me and I just…” Despite the ache in your throat and the embarrassed shame that grew with each word, you kept on. “I just want to see her. Even if it’s just for five minutes. But I promised her. I promised.” The tang of copper filled your mouth as you licked at your lips. “Don’t you have someone that you want to get back to after all this?”

But he was still quiet.

Another knock came, three sharp taps followed by two slower ones, and Gaz stuck his head in. “Cap wants us on the road.”

Ghost still didn’t say anything but capped the cream and handed it to you before helping you off the sink’s edge. He led you out back into the dulled sunlight and Gaz was quick to step to your side, skirting around the large man with another one of his magazine-worthy smiles. “I got you a bit of ice for your throat. Figured it might help.” He handed you an ice pack wrapped in a small bit of cloth, long enough for you to tie loosely around your throat so you wouldn’t have to constantly hold it.

You smiled and thanked him as you shuffled back to the SUV. He was quick to open the door for you, too. But it was Ghost who helped you into the SUV, his (large) hand catching yours when you’d reached for the side of the door to heft yourself up. You might have stared at his hand for a moment before ungracefully plopping into your seat at the back again with a quick, muttered “thanks.”

Wonderful. You’re so good at being a normal person.

Thankfully, you seemed to disappear after Soap offered you a protein bar (which you declined) and Price told you, kindly if not to the point, to buckle up. So, you sat in the back of the SUV with the ice pack across your throat and your eyes trained on the road passing you by.

She looked like she’d been put through the ringer. And, for a civilian, she had, he supposed. When he’d gone into that shitty little washroom, he half-expected to find her sobbing. Plenty of civilians sobbed and howled for less. But not her. She’d been crying, no denying that. But she looked more annoyed to see him than anything else. It twisted at something behind his ribs that he could almost name. Her skin had been soft. And Simon knew—he knew—that he should’ve let her apply the lotion on her own. But he couldn’t help himself.

Just like he couldn’t help himself last night by being the first to go upstairs when they realized the safehouse’s perimeter had been breached. And she’d been fighting for her life—the lamp had been a good weapon all things considered. It was impressive. But he still hated that he’d been so late to get to her; the dead man must’ve slipped through during shift change. Johnny was beating himself up about it but Simon knew she wouldn’t hold it against him. She might spit nails and know how to throw a punch, but she had a soft spot for the Scot.

And maybe him, too. Maybe. He didn’t want to let himself hope for it like a kid. He would, however, remember how she shivered beneath him.

And right now, it didn’t matter as Laswell was waiting for them at a small airstrip an hour away. She said she had answers about the men (other than the obvious fact that they were part of the Konni group) but wanted to talk to them in person. That was a fact that didn’t sit well with him. Not with shit hitting the fan so spectacularly last night.

Simon looked back to see her asleep again, Kyle’s ice pack drooping but still tied loosely across her throat. When he reached out, he felt that it had melted and slowly undid the loose knot at the back, trying to ignore how she let out a sigh when his finger brushed against the edge of her jaw. That was good. She needed the rest. He wanted her comfortable, safe. And he, selfishly, liked to be the one to make sure that she was comfortable and safe.

The SUV rumbled on and Price eventually pulled onto a dirt pathway, his white knuckle grip on the wheel receding a fraction when they weren’t on the motorway anymore. Gaz had also let his sidearm rest against his leg for a moment instead of having it raised beneath the edge of the window. Johnny, however, hadn’t stopped tapping his finger against his firearm’s trigger.

The dirt road continued on for a little longer before ending at a large patch of more dirt that had possibly once been a parking spot. It had probably been one of those parachuting traps for thrill seekers who had more adrenaline than sense. It looked abandoned, if Simon was guessing, aside from Laswell who was standing near the rusted gate and a waiting helo behind her. The steady thump-thump-thump of its rotating wings had Simon’s shoulders falling from around his ears the smallest bit. And to his surprise, when he looked at the woman beside him, she was still asleep as they rolled to a quick stop and the doors opened.

“Good to see you all in one piece. I got here as soon as I could,” Laswell said in greeting. Her sharp eyes moved to the SUV where she could no doubt see the other woman asleep in the back. “She give you trouble?”

“Not a lick of it,” Johnny said, casting a glance back at her, too.

“Let ‘er be,” Price said, stepping to Simon’s side. “The bird’s had a long night.”

“She can sleep through anything,” Kyle said, a small smile on his face.

Laswell glanced over at her and then nodded, seemingly satisfied with seeing her out of the way or, at least, in a place that didn’t seem like she was trying to escape. She waved them forward, ushering the group into the vacant building a few steps away. It was as rusted and abandoned as the rest of the place. The chair Simon lowered himself into groaned beneath his weight.

“We have a problem,” Laswell said. She never did have a problem cutting to the chase. “No one should have known where you were.”

“Or where our families live,” Johnny said. He curled his hands into fists at his sides. His family had been the first to be targeted, if Laswell’s intel was to be trusted. Then Kyle’s family’s house. And then Price’s mum’s house.

She nodded and then looked to Price. “I think we have a mole.”

“Someone sold us out?” Simon asked, the words like ash on his tongue. It wouldn't be the first time that someone had betrayed them but this time it felt… It was closer to home. Both figuratively and literally. Their families were supposed to be safe. Protected. They didn’t tell them about their jobs and what they did in the shadows. They were supposed to be safe.

Simon wanted his teammates’ families to be safe. He knew what it was like to lose that anchor and he didn’t want them to know what it felt like.

“I’m working on finding out who could have done it. But, for now, I’m moving you again. Only I’ll know where you are. But before that, I want to know everything about last night. How many there were. What weapons. What they wanted. Anything you have, I need.”

Kyle went first, listed five men he’d picked off. Then Soap with four more. They had high powered munitions and tactical gear. They’d been ready. It hadn’t been apparent how they arrived at the property and Price offered up the possibility of a transport several clicks out on the other side of the woods, followed by his own count of four men.

“And you, Ghost?” Laswell asked, her arms folded.

“Six. Needed to get upstairs.”

Johnny and Kyle nodded. “Ye said something about that man who tried to kill our girl.”

“She was a target?”

“Caught one of ‘em with their hands around her throat.”

One of Laswell’s fingers tapped against her arm. Just twice. “Interesting.”

Simon could remember the way she fought. The way her fingers slid between his and then through his belt loop as he led her downstairs. She had shivered under his hand and he couldn’t help but pull another out of her when the safehouse burned behind them. Simon was a selfish bastard. He knew that. And she made him even more selfish. And curious. A dangerous combination for anyone in his line of work.

“He was asking her what she knew about us.”

“And did she say?”

“She said she knew nothing and then hit ‘im in the face with a lamp.”

Johnny laughed and Simon didn’t miss the approving nods from Kyle and Price. Yeah. She’d done well. And he’d killed the man who’d put his hands on her. He’d do it again.

“Are you still thinking she has something to do with this? A plant from Makarov?”

“She isn’t.” Simon didn’t care that the question was probably for Price to answer.

There was no way she would look like she was beat to shit if she was working for Konni. Simon knew what fear looked like. She had been scared but fought the entire time. Just like down in the tunnels when Johnny almost got a bullet to the brain. She was scrappy. A fighter. Not necessarily a good one, but a fighter.

“She’s jumpy,” Kyle said. “But I think any civilian would be. She’s a good one. Kind.”

“She saved my life. Got shot doing it.” Johnny thumped the side of his fist of his shoulder and then pointed at the still-too-pink scar on the side of his head. “There was no guarantee she’d survive that. No plant would do that.”

“Agreed,” Price said after a moment. “But now she’s an asset twice over. If Makarov thinks she knows something about us and thought they could get her to give up intel, that is something we could use.” The captain leaned forward, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Bait?” Laswell followed where Price led. “Draw him out into the open.”

“Make him think we let her out of our sights and-”

“Then we cut the head off the snake.” Simon could feel Johnny’s anger. They’d hurt his family and he knew he had a soft spot for the girl caught up in this mess. She did save his life. That wasn’t something any of them took lightly.

Laswell nodded, probably already forming plans in her head. “I could let anyone we suspect of being our mole know different locations of where she’d be. Wherever Makarov’s men show up-”

“Then you’ll know who your rat is.” The smile Price gave was the one he usually reserved for a mission nearing its end. A job well done with more bullshit to follow.

The thought of her as bait didn’t sit right in the hollow Simon’s chest. But it was the fastest way of dealing with Makarov. They needed to end this. “When will you have your list of suspects?”

“We’re working on it now.”

“Until then? What’s the plan?” Kyle’s eyes darted to the dirty window behind Laswell. There was just another stretch of barren field on the other side but there were supposed to only be some trees outside the safehouse and they all knew how that panned out last night. They could be sitting ducks out here. They needed to move, quickly, before they were caught off their guard (or as much as they could be) again.

Simon watched Laswell tap her arm again. “She said she wanted to see her sister, right?”

Both Johnny and Simon nodded.

“That could be arranged. I have a contact in Chicago. She and her brother-”

“I thought she got out after her old man died?” Price asked.

Simon almost arched a brow at the tone. Too sharp for a simple question and it seemed everyone in the room caught it, no matter how subtle it would have been to anyone else.

Laswell almost smiled, pulling her lips into her mouth for a moment. “She didn’t. She still runs the hotel. I’ll tell her you’re coming. All of you, plus a guest. I have a jet an hour out—they can be here in no time and I’ll get the pilot the proper clearances.”

“Off the books?” Kyle asked.

Laswell nodded, already pulling out her phone. “You can have a few days to regroup there before I move you again. Enjoy your vacation.”

Waking up on a private plane wasn’t exactly pleasant like your romance novels made it seem. It wasn’t the worst way you’ve woken up, but not something you’d recommend. And as to how you wound up in the plane, you could only guess but with the way you’d drooled on Ghost’s shoulder and Soap was smirking at you, you could probably put the hints together.

Wonderful.

Great.

Not at all embarrassing.

The plane wasn’t as luxurious as you’d read about in your books or seen in random magazines detailing this or that celebrity’s “beautiful life.” It was a bit utilitarian, which you supposed made sense. Just enough seats for everyone to mostly stretch out and a door to what you hoped was a washroom. Honestly, being shuttled out of a safehouse where you’d been strangled, to being in the back of the SUV for an indeterminate amount of time, to waking up in a private plane wasn’t exactly doing wonders for your anxiety.

But a quick glance around let you know that the others were doing fine. Dare you say it, almost relaxed. Price and Gaz were soon playing cards at the small table near the cockpit and Soap was sketching something in a tiny notepad on the couch a few steps away.

But it was Ghost’s thigh pressing into yours that grounded you a little more as he sat beside you in one of the two seats left. And no, you weren’t going to think about why that was. Mostly because he nudged his leg against yours one more time and caught your attention.

“Go wash up.” He tilted his chin toward the door.

Well, you weren’t about to tell him no and left your seat without much preamble, sliding into the small washroom with a sigh. You almost smiled when you spotted the bag on top of the sink. A small post-it with your name on it was slapped on top. When you opened it and saw a change of clothes and a few different things to wash your face and generally feel cleaner, you couldn’t stop the smile now. You wiped yourself down as best you could and washed your face, whacking your elbow into the door twice. Your throat protested most of it and the skin around your eyes was tender, too, but you still couldn’t help but feel better. The clothes were comfortable and almost your size. You stepped out into the cabin a little while later and you were almost immediately startled by a growling snore. Soap was asleep, mouth wide open, sprawled out on the couch. Price had pulled his ridiculous hat down over his eyes and was sleeping like an old man in his seat. Gaz had reclined his seat back and was asleep, too. You must’ve been in there for a while.

But Ghost was awake when you retook your seat.

He dropped something onto the padded armrest beside you as you buckled back in. It took you a moment to realize what you were looking at. It was your passport. You snatched it up, the small, blue booklet warm in your hands. You thought it was lost in the shuffle after the tunnels. You slapped it against your palm as thoughts whorled. “Are we leaving the country?” you asked, dropping your voice to not wake the others. “And why did you have my passport?”

He didn’t answer but he dropped his shoulder enough to lean a little closer. “Tell me something,” he volleyed in return.

And you were going to ignore how his whisper, low and rough, sent a shiver down your spine. He seemed to have a bad habit of doing that to you. “What? Like a random fact or-”

“About you. I want to know about you.”

Your heart hiccuped behind the cage of your ribs and you could feel the heat inching its way up your throat. God, you must really need to get some sleep. Real sleep. There was no way he was interested in you. You were a mess the entire time you’ve known him and now you look like a reanimated corpse. “Why?”

“Why not?” He didn’t even blink. His dark eyes were anchored on you.

“I…” Your heart continued its battering of your ribs. Wetting your lips, you tried to pull in a steady breath. Like you weren’t affected by the simple fact that someone wanted to know you. “Fine. But you have to tell me something about you, too. Quid pro quo or however the saying goes.”

The behemoth of a man just nodded.

You thought for a moment, trying to find something about yourself that 1) he wouldn’t already know from that file he must’ve read and 2) wasn’t completely ridiculous. All you could come up with was a tame: “my favorite color is yellow.”

“What kind?”

The smile twitched on your lips. No one ever asked you that follow up question. “Soft yellow. Like a pale pastel. Or a daffodil petal.”

He nodded, like he was expecting that answer.

“Your turn.”

“M’name’s Simon.”

Oh.

You hadn’t been hoping to know where you were going but this…this was nice, too. “That’s…that’s a nice name. I won’t ask for your last name. I won’t push it.”

“It’s Riley.”

Your heart was trying to leap out of your chest and all he’d done was tell you his name. Jesus Christ. “Yeah, um, that’s nice, too.”

He just blinked and then waved a hand at you. Just once.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You mimicked the movement.

“I gave you two. That’s the deal. Now you give me two.”

The heat you’d felt came roaring back with a vengeance. As did your inability to be graceful with your embarrassment. “You know, we didn’t negotiate more than a fact each. Not my fault.”

“What kind of game only stopped at one each? Give me another. ‘S only fair.”

The smile that started to crawl up your face almost hurt the more you fought against it. “Just one?”

“You owe me two.”

“What do you want to know? You’ve gotta give me some sort of parameters here. I’m sure I can’t just list off my favorite television shows or movies and leave you satisfied.”

The giant man didn’t move but you could have sworn the fabric obscuring his mouth moved like he was smirking. “You worried about satisfying me?”

This man! “That–that is not what I was-”

And he laughed at you. It was a short sound, but you knew it now. You might know it forever, seared into your memory.

But you still hurried to find two more facts about yourself. Why did your mind always draw blanks when it came to stuff like this? You were terrible at icebreaker games while still in school, too. “I guess I spend more money on perfume and books than I do on clothes. And I think my favorite animal is the fennec fox.” You tapped your passport against your hand again. Ghost…Simon looked like he might like wolves. Or dogs. Maybe bears. And he obviously spent money on his wide array of masks.

He cocked his head to the side and you wondered what he was thinking of telling you, mulling over what he could share without it being a security issue, maybe.

“We’re going to see your sister. Keep your passport with you.”

The next breath stalled in your lungs and only served to make your throat ache when you tried to breathe again. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter when more tears blurred your vision. You were going home.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate all the comments. They really keep me motivated to keep writing this story. They mean more to me than I can say. Please let me know what you think!

[wittyandobsessed]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 | 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢

The Jeep’s windows were fogging up, the scent of old leather and Stiles’s cologne mixing in the heated air between you. You were straddling his lap in the driver’s seat, your fingers tangled in his hair, and Stiles—oh, Stiles—was a mess beneath you.

You kissed him again, slow and deep, dragging your nails lightly down the back of his neck. He whined.

You grinned against his lips. “Was that a whimper, Stilinski?”

He huffed, breathless. “No—shut up—”

You rolled your hips experimentally.

Stiles let out a choked guhhh sound, his head thunking back against the seat.

You giggled, thoroughly enjoying the way he was coming undone beneath you. “You really don’t have a filter, do you?”

“It’s—not—my fault,” he panted, gripping your waist like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. “You’re—you’re doing things, and my body is just—reacting, okay?”

You kissed his jaw, letting your lips brush over the sensitive spot just beneath his ear. Stiles yelped.

“Oh my God,” you laughed. “I love the noises you make.”

His hands spasmed on your hips. “I hate that I make noises.”

“Well, I don’t.” You nipped at his earlobe, delighted when he let out a full-body shudder and another strangled groan. “It means you like this.”

Stiles let out a weak, breathy laugh. “No, yeah, I hate making out with my ridiculously attractive girlfriend in my Jeep. Terrible experience.”

You hummed, pressing your forehead against his. “Want me to stop then?”

His eyes snapped open, panicked. “Do not test me.”

You grinned, tilting his chin up to kiss him again. This time, he met you with desperation, his fingers gripping your waist so tightly you knew you’d feel it later.

Then—

THUD.

The sound of a fist knocking on the Jeep’s window made you both freeze.

“…Stiles,” came Scott’s unimpressed voice from outside. “I can hear you from the parking lot.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing. Stiles groaned, dropping his head onto your shoulder.

“Scott,” he whined, voice muffled. “Can I please make out with my girlfriend in peace?”

A pause. Then:

“Not when you sound like a dying cat, man.”

You lost it, shaking with laughter as Stiles muttered every curse he knew into your neck.

▸ Everything

@alexxavicry

[blossomarlia]

hey, i saw you were writing for joel miller and it literally made my day <3 if you're comfortable, can i request one where maybe reader is younger and is his neighbour and she just flirts w him? idk if this is useful at all, just rlly want to see your version of joel!!

hi thanks for your request- i'm pretty new to writing joel so lmk if you have feedback!

joel miller x younger!reader

warnings: obvious but not super-weird age gap, smoking

The cigarette sits unlit between your lips as you lean over the edge of your porch. It’s a warm night, and still you’re close enough that Joel sees the goosebumps raised on your bare arms in the soft blue light. The windchime hanging from the wooden slats above you casts striped shadows over your face.

“It’s my favourite one,” You say, a smile in your voice. “Don’t stop playing.” 

He keeps his face purposefully impassive, hands still and silent on his guitar. “Didn’t know you were listenin’.”

You shift, and your teeth are bright when you grin. The summer moon softens harsh edges, dilutes the sharp tang of the world you’re surviving in, mellows the usually-tense air between you and Joel. He’s been determined to find you annoying since you moved into the house next door; it’s easier in the daylight, when you aren’t rumpled and carrying a sweet and familiar smell on the breeze from your porch to his. 

“Please keep going,” You say. “I’ll trade you- a song for a smoke?”

He stares at the pack of cigarettes you’re offering- homemade with practiced hands, clearly. You must’ve traded something special for these. “Who found you tobacco?”

“Not tobacco. Raspberry leaf and thyme from the greenhouses, and some lavender,” You respond easily. "It's good for stress."

Your porches are close enough together that if Joel reached out, he could take the pack from you, but he shakes his head and the distance remains unclosed. 

“Don’t smoke,” He lies. If it’d been one of Eugene’s mix he might’ve considered it. “An’ I don’t sing for strangers.”

You press a hand to your heart in mock-offence. “Is that what I am?” “Well, we ain’t friends.”

“I wasn’t planning on ‘friends’,” You say evenly, then laugh at yourself. “Although I’ll take what I can get. You’re kind of intimidating, you know that?”

Joel grunts. He knows well enough.

“Thing is, Tommy tells me you’re actually a total softie if I just try hard enough.”

“Tommy likes to talk a lot of crap,” Joel mutters. He puts his guitar down against the edge of the bench he’s on- it doesn’t seem like he’ll be playing much more tonight. You light the cigarette in your mouth, inhaling with closed eyes. Joel looks away. “It’s gettin’ late. I should-”

“You usually play until the early morning,” Your gaze lands back on his face, full of something bright. “Don’t tell me I’m the intimidating one, Miller.”

Joel’s jaw ticks. “Like I said, audiences aren’t my thing.”

Maddeningly, you seem to find him funny. “I promise not to clap.”

“I’m not playin’ for you, kid.”

“Kid?” You repeat near-silently, eyes still on his. Joel feels the challenge without knowing what he’s being challenged for. You’re goddamn impossible. He wants to know what you’re thinking and hates that he does, hates that he’s distracted by you, hates that he knows he’ll think about this for days to come. 

“What’d you mean, that was your favourite one?” He asks, knowing he shouldn’t.

You cock your head. “What?”

“You said, it’s my favourite one. When you came outside.”

“Oh. I meant the song- it’s my favourite of all the ones you play. It’s so pretty, kinda familiar. Was it popular Before?”

He swallows harshly, reminded uncomfortably of your age while simultaneously diverted by the line of your neck and collarbone, illuminated in the gentle night. “I guess.”

“You guess,” You muse lightly.

“You must listen to me play pretty often, to have favourites.” He sounds fuckin’ stupid, even to himself. Jesus. Just go inside. 

“I guess,” You repeat his words back to him. “It gets hot in my house in summer. I crack my window open at night and I hear you playing.”

“I’ll stop f’it wakes you-”

“I like hearing you, actually,” You interrupt softly. “Please don’t stop.”

Joel is silent for a long moment. A cricket takes up its guiro-song from somewhere near your letterbox. “Alright,” He says. 

“Alright,” You nod once. 

Another breeze spinning from you to him, and Joel recognises the sugary jasmine and clean coconut scent of a lotion he brought back from a supply run to a mall. He’d usually dismiss something like that, but Ellie convinced him to bring it back for the hygiene pile in town. Joel’s intrigued by the sweet-smelling luxuries that you allow yourself, the lotion and cigarettes and candles you keep at your windows. There’s something sharp in Joel that likes the idea of bringing you things you enjoy, making your world even softer and sweeter. 

He sighs. He must be losing it, if it’s taken all of ten minutes for his brain to take him in this direction. What Tommy would say, if he knew… 

Joel pulls his guitar back onto his lap. “You don’t say a goddamn word,” He says as gruffly as he can. “And I keep playing.”

You make a very obvious effort not to look pleased. “Okay.”

Joel takes another breath and focuses on anything but you, practiced fingers pressing the strings of his guitar as he starts playing again.

[justcruisingaroundrevived]

The yandere Pete love letter was SO GOOD!!! Could you please do Jerry or Bill next? ❤️❤️❤️

This Invasion Makes Me Feel Worthless, Hopeless, Sick

Summary: You’re infecting Bill’s mind…and he hates it

Word count: 990

TW/CW: Yandere behavior, obsessive tendencies, stalking, implied wet dreams, mixed signals,

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! This was so fun to do (cause I think Bill’s love letter would be very, VERY stalkerish)

Reblogs are appreciated!

I keep seeing you in the halls, you know? It’s weird. All of my life, normies have been in the background of my life. Still remember the time I lost my Superman cape on Halloween cause fucking Brad and his bullies tore it up and hung me up in the tree. My mom had to get me down, and she scolded me! Saying I care too much about those “childish” hobbies and “You should just grow up”. What the fuck does she know? Only started to act like this when it was clear my dad’s late night leaving meant she was stuck with a parasite.

Don’t get me wrong; you’re exactly like that. Noticed you in my math class, being over excited to answer the questions and anxiously looking at your notebook while taking notes. You know, you shouldn’t even be in calculus if you’re so nervous?! At least when I read my comics in class and the teacher calls me out, I can answer confidently. At least I CAN GET THE FUCKING ANSWER RIGHT?!

Whatever. The point being that you don’t stand out to me, or at least you shouldn’t. Like the others, you blend into the background, and I stay as the underdog.

However, how the fuck do you know about X-Men and Squirrel Girl?! The stickers on your locker indicate that you actually read that shit, and that’s something to gawk at! You? Having normie friends, doing normie activities and being just fucking normal, actually liking the same shit I did?! I’ve spent weeks of my life, reading the latest editions and waking everyone up because I noticed a mistake with my copy? The same shit I waited online at midnight for, kicking and screaming because they said they had enough copies for everyone, but ALL OF A SUDDEN didn’t when I came through the door?! Like, it’s not my fault little kids don’t know what hit them on the way out!

What’s worse is that you keep appearing to me as fucking Emma Frost. Her blonde hair being replaced with your (H/C). You’re lying on my bed, teasing the FUCK out of me. What’s worse is that it’s in her Hellfire Club outfit.

I can forgive Wonder Woman, Lara Croft, Trinity and even Tasha Yar (it was a wet dream with her) but Emma Frost?! She was sacred to me, until your fucking being invaded my dreams. I can still hear your voice saying “Come to bed, honey” in that stupid fucking voice! Your finger beckoning me to come…and I did.

Despite all fucking instincts, I FUCKING DID! I went over to you and ravished you like a fucking fool. It didn’t even look like those porn videos, but an actual sappy romance scene! Just two people crashing lips together!

…you’ve invaded my mind. You’re controlling me like Professor Xavier did to Magneto in the cartoon. Every time I see you walking in the hallways, the thoughts I formed in my brain just melt away, and all I’m left with is you. You’ve imprinted me. Every last capacity of my brain has been invaded by your existence.

It’s gotten to the point where the club mocks me, especially that fat piece of shit boulder! I can hear his nasal laughter while he talks about me being “whipped”! FUCKING WHIPPED! The only thing whipped are pussies and normies, AND YOU’VE TURNED ME INTO THAT!

You’re not even that interesting! You get up, take a 5 minute shower (usually doing your face and body), put on that expensive skincare only available at Sephora, eat the breakfast your mom usually makes (pancakes with a toast is your go to) and then head out!

You stop for a coffee (iced with 2 sugar and cream) and head to school. Going to your locker on the third floor (the twelfth one) and talking to your friends (your locker is so strange…it’s like someone molded you to be my other half….even the way you talk about the latest comics…)

I only have you for third period calculus, and you’re so strange. Always paying attention to class and actually responding to what the teacher says. It’s like you actually like being in class. Strange….

I hate your friends. Seeing them near you is like bugs crawling in my spine. I hate them. I hate them so fucking much. I hate how happy you seem with them, the way your hand gently pushes them jokingly….that should be me. I want that warmth in your eyes, that soft touch you can bring. Still remember how you offered me a pen when I couldn’t find any. I’d admit, I grip onto your hand when I accepted…you smelt so fucking good. Like a floral, clean scent. You would look so beautiful in my collection. My most prized collectible. And I can show you off, cause I caught you. You. YOU!

I hate you. I want to crawl myself into your skin and become you. See how you function…see how you deal with this day to day life. You’re so intriguing.

I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU

I hate you. Just stay the fuck away from me.

-William Alan Dickey

[brie-annwyl]

Tim and Damian always being at each others throats, but always the ones that are most there for each other out if all the siblings.

Dick, bless his heart, is the mother hen of the family. His hands are always full with everyone else and their feelings, that sometimes people get.. forgotten.

Damian was never forgotten. He was Dick’s baby. He told Bruce as such during an argument (“he’s MINE Bruce. I don’t care if you were presumed dead or not. He’s MY son more than he’s yours!”) Damian was his top priority.

Until he wasn’t.

Damian didn’t realize how lonely life felt when he wasn’t the centre of Dick’s world. He didn’t realize how much it would actually hurt when Dick would eventually forget to come to one of his school award ceremonies, or to take him out on their weekly lunches so Damian could spend special one-on-one time with him.

It was 3 hours past when Dick was supposed to have picked him up for lunch, yet Damian was still dressed up in his Nightwing hoodie (a hoodie he stole from the elder). Except he was no longer waiting in the family room like usual, he was up in his room, hiding from the prying eyes of Drake that glanced his way every ten or so minutes when he’d check the time. Lines of worry clearly etched on his face.

Damian tries to call Dick, his call gets sent straight to voicemail. He frowns as he gets a text a few seconds later.

-Sorry Dami, can’t talk right now. I’m out with Steph and Cass for a girls day (yes, I’m invited to those. Lol)-

“Oh.” He forgot. Set plans they have every week. Plans that never diverge. He forgot them for a “girls day”. Damian checks his calendar for the 8th time, needing to make sure he hasn’t mixed up the days (even though he knows he never mixes it up, and it’s always Dick that forgets). He shouldn’t be surprised anymore, their lunches had been canceled the past few weeks due to Dick’s unrelenting schedule, but he had promised Damian that they would go to lunch today, and that he would make up for the past few weeks with staying at the manor and having a sleepover with him.

Damian isn’t sure when he threw his phone, nor when he curled up into a ball in his makeshift reading nook in his closet. His cheeks feel wet and the reality setting in makes him all the more embarrassed. Crying over something so juvenile was so beneath him he might as well change his last name to Drake.

Speak of the devil, Damian internally groans when he hears a soft knock on his closet door.

Maybe Drake is like a dinosaur, if he doesn’t move a muscle or make a sound, he’ll move on and leave him alone.

“I can hear you, demon brat.” An unintentional groan escapes Damian as he buried his face further into his arms. He can hear the closet door open and feels Drake shuffle into his hiding spot, his safe space.

At first, it’s quiet. Neither of them dare utter a word in fear of breaking the calming silence that only exists inside this closet. It’s not the first time the two have found themselves here. Tim is the only person with the amount of audacity to enter Damian’s not-so-secret nook in the back of his closet. It’s the only place the two of them don’t argue, an unspoken boundary that holds together this fragile development in their relationship.

“Is this how you felt?” Damian eventually breaks his silence, casting a subtle glance to Tim, only to realize Tim was already looking at him with an indiscernible expression on his face. It’s a look Damian doesn’t see directed towards him often. He isn’t exactly sure what it means either. It’s a facade, it’s meant to look soft and happy, assumably meant to calm him down before approaching any meaningful conversation. There’s an underlying sting of sadness and pity entwined within it. Damian decides he hates it.

“How I felt?” Tim’s a little closer now, maybe 2 meters away from Damian, his head tilted and eyes questioning. A sigh escapes Damian.

“Is this how you felt when I arrived here? Did he forget he loved you too?” Something in Tim’s expression breaks, and that’s all the answer Damian needs. He feels an urge to apologize, but brushed it away. Him and Tim just being able to talk like this - it’s so new, it started maybe 3 weeks ago. He doesn’t believe he can break down all these walls just yet. He isn’t ready to accept and atone, by looking at Tim, he knows he isn’t ready for that either.

And suddenly the elder robin is a lot closer, almost bumping shoulders as he settles in the same position Damian rests in, staring blankly at the same spot on the wall. It’s his collection of “adopted” animals, the ones where they give you a plushie for sponsoring an animal. Damian had over 30.

“You know, I’ve never been to the Gotham animal sanctuary.” Tim subtly added, hoping Damian took the bate, hoping he didn’t catch on. If he had caught on he managed to hide it very well under a sudden angered gasp.

“You’ve never been?! I have a full exhibition there dedicated in the dangers of housing exotic animals and imploring those to donate to the different charities at each animal exhibit!” Tim threw his hands up in defeat, chuckling slightly.

“Well then boy wonder, we need to go then, don’t we?” Without so much as another word, Tim is pushed out of Damian’s closet. For a moment, he believes he screwed everything up. That Damian will forever live his life as a recluse, only seeing the light of day when physically pried from his hiding place. He’s pleasantly surprised when his little brother emerges in a plain tee shirt and shorts. Tim smiles, not listening as Damian warns him that the exhibits are interactive and imploring him to change his clothes as they will get dirty.

Tim just had to learn that the hard way when elephant snot gets on his new bomber jacket.

[mysticalcrowntyrant]

Yandere cop x Reader

Biting your lower lip, you pressed down carefully on the man's bullet wound. He let out a pained groan, his eyelids squeezing shut in response to the pressure. His breath was labored, ragged, and yet he still had the audacity to shoot you a weary glance.

"Maybe a little gentler?" he rasped.

You shot him a pointed look. "You wouldn't even be in this mess if you hadn't stuck your nose where it didn't belong." You took a deep breath, tightening your grip on the cloth.

He held your gaze for a moment, then, despite the obvious agony he was in, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Snooping's part of the job," he muttered, his eyes never leaving yours. He hesitated, then added, "Any chance you could untie me?"

"Not a chance," you said flatly, yanking the cloth away from his shoulder to reveal the raw, bloodied wound beneath. You soaked it in the water again, watching as the cloth darkened with his blood. His groan was quieter this time, less pronounced.

He exhaled sharply, giving a slow, almost resigned nod. You could see his chest rise and fall in shallow breaths as you pressed the cloth back to the wound.

"You’re lucky he didn’t aim for your head," you muttered.

The man gave a dry chuckle, his lips curling in spite of the pain. "Lucky? I wouldn’t exactly call it that."

His hands strained against the ropes, the muscles flexing as he tested his restraints. He winced with every shift. "So... what's your name?" he asked, his voice softer now, as if trying to fill the space with something other than silence.

You hesitated. Giving him your real name felt dangerous, too risky. But lying felt like a waste of breath. He was probably going to die anyway. "Why do you care?"

He gave a half-shrug, a slight twinkle of amusement flickering in his pained gaze. "Because it’s harder to hate someone when you know their name."

You swallowed hard, glancing at the door. Your dad was still in the next room, probably making a call—arranging whatever came next for this cop. You weren’t sure what that was, but you had a sinking feeling it wasn’t going to end well for him.

"Look," the cop continued, his voice a little softer now, "you don’t seem like the type who wants blood on their hands. If you untie me—"

"Not a chance," you cut in quickly, eyes narrowing.

He sighed, a mix of frustration and resignation. "Okay. Then just... let me live. I know your dad's not going to keep me around forever."

You felt your fingers tighten around the bloodied rag. "You think I have any say in that?" you muttered under your breath, wringing the rag between your fingers.

His eyes flickered to yours, sharp and assessing. "I think you have more say than you let on," he said quietly. "You're still here, aren’t you? Still patching me up instead of letting me bleed out like your father probably wants."

You scowled. "It’s not mercy. If my dad wanted you dead, you’d already be in a ditch somewhere. He wouldn’t waste a bullet when blood loss could do the job just fine."

"Comforting," he deadpanned, his expression pained but somehow still mocking. He shifted in the chair, testing the ropes around his wrists. "So, you're a loyal child, huh? Sticking around, doing the dirty work, making sure Daddy Dearest’s plans go smoothly?"

Your jaw tightened. "You talk too much."

"Yeah, that's what my partner always says," he replied with a humorless chuckle. He exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders with the effort. "You know, the one who’s probably looking for me right now. The one who's going to come knocking soon if I don’t check in."

You froze for a moment. A cop going missing was one thing—plenty of bodies went missing in this part of town. But a partner who cared? That could complicate things.

"You're bluffing," you said, though the uncertainty in your voice betrayed you.

He gave you a lopsided grin. "You wanna bet on that?"

You clenched your jaw, eyes flickering to his wound again. The bleeding had slowed, but he was still pale, drenched in sweat, and his breathing was uneven. He was in more pain than he let on. And yet, even bound to a chair in your father's safe house, he was still trying to engage with you. Still pushing for something.

"Why do you care so much?" you muttered, dabbing at the raw edges of the wound. "You don’t even know me."

"Maybe I like knowing the people who might decide whether I live or die," he said. His eyes were steady, his gaze cutting through your defenses like he could see right through you.

You scoffed. "You're acting like you have a choice in the matter."

His expression softened ever so slightly, but his voice remained firm. "I think you do."

You felt your fingers twitch around the rag. Damn it. He wasn’t wrong. You could leave. You could walk out, leave him to your father's plans, and never look back. Or you could do something reckless. Something stupid.

"You should stop talking.”

"And you should stop pretending you don’t care."

You exhaled, dropping the rag back into the bowl with a soft splash. Your hands were stained with his blood—sticky and warm, the crimson dye too familiar against your skin. You hated it. Hated that you still flinched when you felt it, even after everything you’d seen.

"I don’t care," you stated, but the words felt hollow.

He hummed, tilting his head, considering you for a long moment. "Then why are your hands shaking?"

Your breath hitched. You curled your fingers into fists, willing the tremor to stop. He was good. Too good.

"You think you know me?" you whispered, barely able to speak through the lump in your throat.

"No," he admitted quietly, his voice raw, "But I'd like to."

You bit your lower lip, looking away from him. He was dangerous—not like your father. Not like the men who worked for him. No, this was different. He wasn’t a threat you could see or control. This was a kind of dangerous you didn’t know how to navigate because, deep down, you knew you could easily fall into it.

"Why?" you asked before you could stop yourself, the words tumbling out.

He studied you for a long moment. "Because you don’t belong here."

Your chest tightened, a strange mixture of fear and something else rising in your throat. You weren’t sure what you had expected him to say, but it sure as hell wasn’t that. It wasn’t what you wanted to hear.

"Don’t pretend you know me," you snapped, trying to steel your voice.

"I’m not pretending," he said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of truth. "I see it in your eyes. You hate this."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking deep into your bones. You opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came. You couldn’t admit it. You couldn’t.

Before you could speak, the door creaked open behind you, your father's voice filling the room. "Is he still breathing?"

You stiffened, your heart racing. You masked your expression, turning slowly to face him. "Yeah."

Your father stepped closer, his sharp gaze sweeping over the scene—the bloodied rag, the cop’s pale face, the ropes that still held him in place. He nodded approvingly. "Good. Wouldn’t want him dying too soon."

The cop chuckled dryly. "Touching."

Your father barely glanced at him, his attention fixated on you. "I got what I needed. Take care of him."

Your stomach churned. "Take care of him" was never a good thing. It never ended well.

You swallowed hard, keeping your face blank. "How?"

Your father raised an eyebrow, his gaze a silent warning. "You know how."

The cop's gaze burned into you, his eyes wide, but he didn’t speak, didn’t beg. He just stared at you, waiting. You nodded slowly, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. "Got it."

Your father gave you one last look before stepping out, leaving the two of you alone in the dim room. The second the door clicked shut, he exhaled heavily. "So," he murmured, voice strained, "this is it, huh?"

You swallowed, your pulse hammering in your ears. You had a choice. He would die if you did nothing. If you made the wrong move, you might die too.

"Turn around," you muttered, barely above a whisper.

His brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Turn around," you repeated, moving behind him. "If I cut these ropes, you’ve got thirty seconds to figure out an escape plan."

He didn’t hesitate. He shifted in the chair, bracing himself. "I knew you had a heart in there somewhere."

"Shut up and don’t waste this," you hissed, pulling a small blade from your pocket. With quick, precise movements, you began to cut the ropes.

As soon as his hands were free, he surged forward, almost toppling out of the chair. His balance wavered, but he caught himself. Weak from blood loss, but his eyes still burned with determination.

He looked at you, something unreadable in his gaze. "Come with me."

Your heart pounded in your chest. "I—"

Heavy footsteps echoed in the hall.

No time.

You shoved him toward the window. "Go."

For a split second, he hesitated, his gaze locking with yours one last time, before he nodded. "See you around."

And then, just like that, he was gone, slipping into the night.

You stood there, heart racing, blood staining your hands, knowing that the choice you just made would haunt you forever. There was no going back now.

Masterlist

[marauder-misprint]

Hi! I loved honeymoon phase could you please please please make a second part?

Hi! I'm so glad you liked Honeymoon Phase ❤︎ I wasn't sure if I was ever going to do part 2 but here we are! Hope you enjoy ❤︎

Second chances

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

1.5k words

cw: angst, hurt/comfort, steps toward forgiveness

You can feel it everywhere you go. Remus’ eyes on you. 

It had happened so quickly. You went from having Remus glued to your side to actively avoiding him. You were right when you ended things: you have nothing to say to him. 

Your friends had mixed reactions to the reasoning behind the breakup. Some said they were glad to have their friend back and that it was good to get out of a relationship where your partner is too controlling. Others said that you were too hasty and should have been more firm in your boundaries. But no matter how they felt about it, they stood by you. They made a habit of purposely standing between you and Remus and helping you disappear from sight when it looked like he was going to attempt to talk to you. 

The biggest issue you have is finding a new place to study. You can’t just pick a new table in the library; Remus would just move to that table. None of your friends liked studying in the library either. You refuse to study in your dorm and the common is always too busy and distracting. So you hole up in whichever empty alcove or window seat that you can find. In a desperate attempt to just be away from people, you even studied in the bell tower once. And then you immediately went back to the alcoves. 

Not that you noticed, but remorse and guilt filled Remus to the brim. Once the full moon passed and he could think like himself again, he could feel the true weight of how he had acted. He hated that he had been that possessive of you. And what made him feel worse? You won’t let him near you, you won’t look at him, you won’t allow him to talk to you. He knows he deserves it, but that doesn’t make dealing with it any easier. 

And all he wants to do is apologize. He wouldn’t mind if you’d give him a second chance, even if it was just a second chance at friendship. But he needs to apologize to you to be able to live with himself. 

As time passes, your friends stop guarding you as diligently. You’ve told them you’re good, that you’re fine. You can handle it if he approaches you, not that you’ll give him the time of day if he does. But you still avoid the library as much as you can since you know he’ll be there and you’re just not ready for that step yet. 

Finding a place to work on homework tonight is being particularly difficult. All your new spots were taken and you’re about to accept defeat and study in your dorm. But there’s one last spot: the Astronomy Tower. You figure there’s no way that the tower is empty when everywhere is full. The Astronomy Tower, when not being used for class, was a nice place to relax and look out over castle grounds. 

To your absolute delight, it’s empty. You sigh a breath of relief and get settled. It’s peaceful. Comfortable. You could sit up here alone for hours. Which is what you end up doing, for longer than you originally intended. 

You don’t recall falling asleep, but you must have. It’s dark out and there’s a gentle hand on your shoulder. You rub the sleep out of your eyes. The glint of a Prefect badge catches your eye and you groan. You had just been trying to study and now you’re surely getting detention or losing house points. 

“Hey, you’re not supposed to be out right now.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut again. You forgot that Remus was a Prefect. And of course, it was just your luck that he’d be the one to find you on the one night you’re accidentally out past curfew. 

“Come on, you should get to bed.” 

Nope. This was real. Not a dream. Great. 

“Didn’t realize I fell asleep…” you mutter as you open your eyes again and begin to gather your things that are still splayed out around you.

He chuckles softly. “History tends to be a great sedative.” 

You don’t say anything for a little bit. You’re more focused on collecting your things so you can disappear into your dorm. You’d rather be anywhere but here right now. Once you have everything, you stand up and dust yourself off. You don’t look at Remus. Like always, you can feel his eyes on you.

“So what’s the damage? Fifteen points? Detention?” you ask quietly.

“You fell asleep doing homework. I’m not taking points for that,” he says. “I just need to walk you back to your common room.” 

You nod and head toward the stairs. You know you should be thanking Remus for going easy on you, but you can feel that it’s going to be an awkward walk. You’re not going to feed the awkwardness. 

Remus, however, does not get that memo. 

“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” he says once you descend the first flight of stairs. 

“It’s whatever,” you say flatly. “I’ve moved past it, you’ve moved past it. Don’t worry ‘bout it.” 

Remus frowns and hesitantly reaches out for your arm. His fingers brush your bicep but he doesn’t grab you. You freeze at his touch.

“Who said I moved past it?” he whispers. 

“I… I just assumed, sorry. You stopped trying to talk to me at every turn…” 

All Remus wants at this moment is for you to look at him. You are doing everything in your power to look at anything but him. You’ve never found the handrail so interesting. 

“I got the message that you didn’t want to talk to me.”

“I don’t.” 

“But I need to apologize. I don’t know what came over me.” A lie, but that wasn’t something he could tell you. At least, not now. “I shouldn’t have treated you that way, like a possession. Something that I didn’t have to share. You were my longest relationship.”

“Take it as a lesson then. You have to be patient with your girlfriends and let them have time with their friends.” You pause and sigh. “That’s all I wanted. A few moments with my friends because I had been giving you all my time. It wasn’t fair that you got to keep yours while mine faded into the background, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” 

Remus hangs his head. He feels the possibility of being friends again slipping through his fingers. Then, for the first time of the night, you look at him. His stance, his posture, is that of a remorseful man. You sigh again, louder this time, and lean against the wall. When Remus looks at you, he has the most pitiful expression on his face. 

“So what do you want?” you ask bluntly.

“Huh?”

“I’m not dumb. You’re letting me off easy for being out past curfew and you’ve given me an apology for something that couldn’t gone unapologized for.”

He runs a hand through his hair nervously. 

“I was… Fuck, Merlin knows I don’t deserve it, but maybe, I was hoping you’d have it in you to give me a second chance?” His words come out slowly and unsure before he starts to ramble. “Like I said, I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m also not over you. I really, really like you and I want a do-over. I won’t mess it up this time, I promise. I’d promise you the world. I swear on anything you want me to that I won’t mess it up. I’ll treat you better. We’ll hang out with your friends. You’ll hang out with your friends without me. Because, fuck, I really like you and I didn’t realize how much until-”

You put your hand over his mouth.

“Just… shut up for a second.” You hold your hand over his mouth for another second until he nods. “You want a second chance?”

He nods again. He wasn’t sure if you wanted him to talk just yet. 

“You’re aware that you’re the reason I was up here in the first place?” He shakes his head. “Can’t risk running into you in the library. And I needed a place to study.”

Remus doesn’t know how to respond so he doesn’t do anything. Then you start walking down the next flight of stairs. 

“Where are you going?” he asks, quickly moving to follow you.

“I’m supposed to be being escorted to my common room, remember?” 

“Okay, but where does that leave us?” 

“Remus, there’s no us. If you want a second chance at that, you’re going to have to give me more time. But I’m going to study in the library. Please don’t sit at whatever table I’m at. I’ll sit at yours when I’m ready. And, I guess, we can go from there. Okay?”

“Okay.” 

The rest of the walk to your common room is quiet. The chance at friendship isn’t gone. There is a chance if Remus continues to give you the space that you need. He needs to allow you time to forgive him. Space and time. Remus can give you that. If it yields the possibility of getting you back, Remus will give you all the space and time you need. He will be patient with you, as he’s promised. 

Tags: @navs-bhat, @yearninglustfully, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @bmyva1entine

[reverie-starlight]

so this is the bday fic I had planned for 2024, and it’s been sitting in my drafts since then. I finally finished it like six months later, so this is just gonna sit in my queue until march 2025. I'm sure my characterization of kaiser will be much better different by then, but oh well!!

fem!reader, no physical descriptions. I will never not make kaiser soft, sorry not sorry <3 FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF. vague mention of reader having bad b-days in the past. self-ship coded!! no angst!!! just fluff! happy birthday to me!!!!!!!!

birthdays are… complicated for you.

complicated enough that you can’t even scrape the surface of your feelings on them. you don’t hate yours (technically) but it does bring up a lot of emotions in the weeks leading up to it. then those feelings get mixed with the fact that you’re not good at accepting that there are people out there who want to take care of you and make the day special when you haven’t known it to be in a long time.

people like kaiser.

kaiser, who knows all of your birthday troubles and always wants to make the day pleasant as possible for you.

(“trying to make up for all those awful years, liebling”, he always says when you try to protest.)

kaiser who always has to one up himself year after year, despite your insistence that he doesn’t need to.

kaiser, who would never give up the chance to see the beautiful, bashful smile on your face when you finally give in and accept the full force of his love and appreciation for you.

kaiser, who is currently leading you to this year’s birthday surprise, repeatedly assuring you that he didn’t go over the top this time.

he slowly removes the blindfold from your eyes and watches with a smile as you take in the unbelievably large pile of presents in front of you.

you inhale sharply and turn your head between him and the gifts multiple times in quick succession. “what-“ you spin on your heel to look up at his shamelessly smug face. he’s practically glowing with pride at having surprised you like this. “michael, I thought I said you didn’t need to get me anything.”

he shrugs and places his hands on your shoulders to calm you. “I know, schatz, but did you really think I’d let your birthday pass without at least one gift? do you even know me?”

you click your tongue and look back at the pile. he recognizes that your body language looks a bit guilty, and your wide eyes confirm that. “first of all this is way more than one, but… I told you that I just wanted to spend time with you. this… this is so much… and… and probably so expensive…” you could hardly wrap your head around the fact that this massive pile of gifts was yours.

your boyfriend grins. “I’m an athlete, baby, and a damn good one at that- I can’t imagine a better way to spend my funds than spoiling you from time to time.”

your pupils dilate and his grin only grows as you shake your head and look away bashfully. “I can think of a few…” he hears you mutter.

he laughs. you’re always so quick to deny anyone the pleasure of treating you. he doesn’t ever blame you for that, though. “well it’s a good thing it’s technically my money, and not yours then, hm?”

at least not yet, he thinks to himself and pictures the ring of your dreams that you’ve unknowingly designed, tucked away safely in his drawer for a later date.

your boyfriend notices you getting slightly overwhelmed with all the thoughts running through your head, so he decides to make it easier for you.

he turns you around to face the gifts once more and wraps his arms around your waist. he sways you back and forth for a bit, letting you sit with the fact that all these gifts are actually yours.

in between pressing gentle kisses to your neck to calm you down some, he says “so which one do you want to start with, angel girl?”

almost an hour later, you’re both cuddled up on the couch with a pile of gift wrap and ribbon surrounding you all over the floor. kaiser had mumbled some promises of cleaning it all up tomorrow morning against your lips before slipping into the kitchen and bringing out your cake. he does his rendition of happy birthday and lets you blow out the candles, teasing you about letting him in on your wish before grabbing the knife to cut you a slice.

“can we…” you stop mid sentence, hesitating. he sits back and waits for you to find your words. “can we share a slice?”

he doesn’t question your request and cuts a huge wedge away from the cake. “big enough?”

you nod and settle against him, swinging your legs over his lap and stealing the fork from his hand to have the first bite.

“it’s really good, michael.”

“of course it is, I got your favourite.”

you knock your head against his in thanks and move to feed him a piece. “no, let me do it from here, hase.”

kaiser takes the fork and a bite before offering you another. “you spoil me, my love.”

he shakes his head, frowning a bit. he meets your eyes and you’re a bit surprised to see that he’s grown sentimental. “well how could I not? you’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted- a chance to be loved and to love in return.”

he grabs your hand with his free one and presses his forehead against yours. “giving you a good birthday is the least I could do, mein schatz.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i luv him :3

[grimmsbride]

omf umm 🫣 your rex was so good. this is so specific but i feel like our preferences line up p well so im humbly requesting...

douchebag!rex and chubby!reader where rex is constantly teasing her, maybe pinching her side or teasing her for eating sweets or something. but behind the scenes he CANNOT get enough of her, furiously jerks off to the thought of her nightly, gets jealous when other ppl get too close to her.

she gets hit with sex pollen at some point and he gets assigned the job of taking care of her and making sure she doesn't try to fuck everyone she sees. but rex is the one having a hard time keeping it together bc fuck why is she so cute when shes a desperate mess

𝄃𝄀⠀⠀love potions⠀╲ rex sloan ֤ࣨ🫀𖥔 ݁ ˖

summary * 𓈒 you didn’t particularly like rex-splode, and the feeling seemed to be pretty neutral on his end. but a sudden mix of mystery smoke and being quarantined together, brings the two of you far closer then it should have.

tags * 𓈒 rex is extremely ooc. if you are here for a complete canon copy of him, you are at the wrong place— sorry to disappoint. | reader is a witch | typical sex pollen fic only this is my first time ever writing one 😞 | porn with plot(?) | incorrect biology (? maybe??) | sex with complicated feelings | mentions and examples of negging | rex is a dick & douchebag | reader is depicted as chubby / plus size & is a witch | overstimulation | over-exaggerated depictions of sex | raw sex | multiple positions | multiple orgasms | pet names ( pretty, mama, baby, etc etc ) | again hes ooc. | awkward time skips i’m sorryyy

author’s notes * 𓈒 this fic was supposed to be posted like two days ago but i made it way longer then i should have, and i genuinely don’t love how it came out but i still wanted to give my best in fulfilling your request— ty for requesting by the way 🫶🏾. the smut is towards the end if you don’t want to completely read the plot and as always please excuse any typos. i hope you enjoy this fic.

Had you broken your promise to Cecil? Your bold vow that you would never hex any of your teammates, no matter how much they pissed you off? Rex Sloan simply couldn’t wrap his head around it, brain nearly emitting smoke from how much his gears were turning.

It.. had to be a hex, right? Some spell in a fancy language he couldn’t identify, written right in those dingy pages of that grimoire you held so dear. He wondered how you did it, if you stood over him while he slept— whispering saccharine words and giggles, slipping in and out while he was none the wiser.

Only for Rex to wake with nothing but you, on his mind.

It was comical really, how much the outside body covers. One would think Rex hated your guts. And his mouth surely didn’t help. Releasing random remarks about your clothes clinging to your skin, how you should put down that donut once in a while, even going as far as pinching your sides — which always resulted in a quick slap, but still — if anyone on The Guardians were ever asked what relationship the two of you had it could always be described as borderline hostile.

However, appearances can be deceiving. It wasn’t that Rex hated you, or your body for that matter. Quite the opposite actually. The man couldn’t count on two hands how many times his eyes have trailed to your ass whenever you walked by or how he could nearly tremble whenever your form brushed up against him. You consumed him entirely; smell, face, everything about you was intoxicating to the point he simply could not get you out of his mind.

Working out? Rex was wondering if he would be able to lift you at his current rep. How his fingers would probably sink into your warm flesh as he tugged you closer by the hips, maybe you would even whine about being heavy— only for him to prove you wrong.

In the shower? All that steam surrounding him? Oh, the man could only imagine having you right beside him, suds sliding down your body like the stretch marks etched into your skin; the man would be steady wondering how hot and heavy the two of you could get— melting into the other until you’re basically forced to get out.

In his bed, under those comfortable blankets was the worst of all. During the day Rex was able to ignore his thoughts and focus on being a dick to everyone — mostly you — and being a superhero. But in his bed with nothing to ground him, his mind went wild.

Wild enough that it affected the rest of his body.

Most nights were spent rather sinfully, a hand wrapped tightly around his dick whilst arousal dripped from his angry red tip. Rex’s free hand was always on his face, as if shameful for what he was doing. And technically he was.

He was Rex Sloan, basically resident fuck-boy; meaning, jerking off should be really be at the bottom of the list. But when it came to you, any thought of approaching you for such a thing, for something other than random insults and remarks— the man was suddenly mute.

“Rex. Are you listening?”

The mechanical voice cut through the flood of thoughts swarming the man’s mind, snapping his eyes from the random buildings passing by to the machine currently driving the vehicle that soared through the air. And to the side was you, sitting so prim and perfectly in your dark clothes; hand currently occupied by a mirror to which your free hand plucked and fluffed your hair. In the midst your hand dragged down towards your chubby cheek and lower, fingers resting upon your lips to which you gently smoothed— probably assuring they were free of anything.

Rex couldn’t help but stare, throughly entranced with it all— suddenly feeling very jealous of your finger tips.

Were your lips as soft as they looked? He wondered how you would taste, he could just imagine them wrapped around his di—

“Rex?”

The moment his name was spoken again your eyes suddenly snapped to his through the mirror, causing the man to quickly look away, nearly glaring daggers into the back of Robot’s head.

“Yeah, yeah. I know the drill.” He waved it off, forcing a nonchalant facade. “We go to some greenhouse, blow up some freakish plant monster— and then get on with the day.”

Rex then allowed his gaze to tilt back to you, a rather stupid grin suddenly crossing his features.

“But what’s Ms. Sabrina the Witch doing here? You and I could handle this job no problem without the extra weight.”

Your eyebrow twitched, slamming your compact mirror closed as you turned to glare at the man.

“You think you’re so funny.. Maybe I should call Amanda to whoop your ass again.”

“What, you need a little girl to fight your battles?”

“Rex, you aren’t even worth a single spell in my book.. Though,” Your eyes trailed away from the man, suddenly looking deep in thought as your arms crossed over your bosom; “— Maybe I could turn you into a toad.. I’m not sure you would look any different, however.”

Rex couldn’t help but scoff, feeling far too many emotions swarm his stomach the moment he noticed those perfect lips lift into a simper. His own parted, ready to release some fast remark when Robot interrupted;

“From the information gathered by Cecil, there seems to be magical forces at play; explaining the sudden behavior of the plant. Both of you are needed for this mission, and you two are expected to act as a team.”

Those final words were spoken, the tense atmosphere quickly delving into silence. Like teenagers ridiculed the two of you crossed your arms, leaning back into your seats and waiting silently for this damned mission to begin.

Moments passed before the vehicle suddenly stopped, lowering to the ground before a large greenhouse. The windows were frosted, yet large shadows seemed to be pressed against the glass.

With ease you slipped out of the car, tucking your spellbook close and inspecting the outside carefully. What Robot said was right, there seemed to be some type of magical presence; strong enough you felt it from the outside.

You turned, hearing your other teammates exit the vehicle— Robot stepping to stand beside you. His metallic hand rose to the handle of the building, giving the two of you a single glance;

“Are you ready t—“

“Let’s get this over with already!”

. . .

Minutes, possibly even hours passed with the three of you attacking the plant that had taken over the building. With each vine Rex seemed to explode, another grew; dwindling all your progress to zero.

Finally in a sudden turn of events you found the perfect spell, reciting the olden language as a dark spiraled glyph etched into the ground below the plant.

Light sprung from your magic, incinerating the monster from within.

In the midst of this however, a sudden pinkish hue entered the air in the form of smoke, chasing towards you desperately as the plant breathed its final moments. You quickly flung an arm around your face, but it was far too late; feeling the foreign air run up your nose in a painful burn. It trickled down to your throat, clogging so much you began to cough; body shaking from the excursion. You fell to your knees, struggling to catch your breath, as sloppy wet coughs escaped your chest.

“[Name]!”

You didn’t know whether it was Rex or Robot speaking, deciding to focus on your breathing instead. Your eyes shut close, sucking in harshly to hopefully fill your lungs with fresh air and not whatever that mysterious smoke was. It took a couple of tries but you eventually succeeded, feeling your rushing heart relax the moment you could breathe again.

You slowly lifted from your hunched position, noting the way Robot stood close to you whilst Rex stood off to the side, gaze settled upon you with an unreadable expression.

“What the hell was that, Robot?! Did it just piss on her?”

“You’re..” You huffed softly, slowly rising to your feet, tucking your book close to your body. “— so immature.”

“I’m asking a serious question!”

You shook your head, switching your gaze over to the still machine, waiting for some type of answer. You secretly prayed Rex was wrong, knowing you would probably gag if it truly was magical monster plant pee.

“It wasn’t urine, Rex; the plant released a pheromone as a response to [Name] killing it. “ Rex explained slowly, stepping a tad bit closer to you, clearly scanning your form. “It’s current effects are unknown to me, however you seemed to have inhaled most of it and absorbed it through your skin.”

“What?” You hissed in concern, eyes falling to your body as if searching for some type of answer. You even went as far as swiping your skin, truly desperate to get whatever the hell it was off you.

“That won’t work.”

“Yeah, no shit Robot—“ Rex stepped in, eyebrows furrowed for a moment as he glanced down at you before switching his gaze back to his other teammate. “What are you gonna do?”

All was silent for a moment as Robot thought it over, possibly doing millions of calculations for an answer. You stood quietly, attempting to swallow your fear. This so called pheromone couldn’t be that bad.. right? Maybe it was like a skunk thing?

Okay, that did sound pretty bad.

Robot stole you from your thoughts the moment he spoke again, your eyes flicking to him and noticing his own head switched towards Rex.

“For now, while I assess the effects the two of you will be quarantined together.”

“What?”

“There’s no way in he—“

“You could possibly infect the others through contact and given Rex was nearby during the event, there’s a possibility the pheromones hit him as well.” Robot cut through your childish remarks with ease, watching your mouths clamp shut in response.

“This is only temporary. I will figure out an answer soon. For now, please work with me.”

. . .

You wanted to work with Robot, or more like needed to. So you were pretty silent on the ride back to headquarters albeit the little groans of irritation that escaped you each time you shifted, suddenly feeling every bit of fabric clinging to your skin.

It was a blur making it to the quarantine area— or rather your bedroom. You didn’t love having your biggest enemy in your safe haven, but you would have to make do.

“Feel any different?”

“You asked that three minutes ago, Rex.” You murmured softly, eyes closed as you laid amongst your soft blankets. You had taken a shower the moment you got back, something Robot recommended and something you definitely needed. Removing your clothes to relish under the hot water was pure bliss, you would have stayed under there for hours if you could. After which you dried and dressed in a simple shirt and shorts, baggy to combat the sudden suffocating sensation surrounding you.

You turned from lying on your back to your side, allowing your eyes to open and focus on the man across the room. He was seated on your vanity chair, dressed in a simple white tank and his super-suit pants. The man’s hair was done up in a messy bun, a few strands framing his face. You began to stare longer than you should have, only realizing the moment his eyebrow twitched up, clearly questioning your sudden interest on his face.

You breathed softly, “I don’t feel any different.. just, hot.”

“Hot?”

You gave a little nod, rolling onto your stomach as your face smushed into the blankets and pillows below you. “Hot.” You repeated softly, eyes closing for a moment. Hot, was an understatement. While your shower helped cool you down in the moment, it felt as if your temperature was slowly rising and rising— with no end in sight. It explained why you suddenly felt so suffocated; the fabric you wore clinging to your body as you began to sweat.

Along with this, you felt dizzy as if developing the worst super powered vertigo known to man. The only remedy was shutting your eyes tightly, even going as far as shoving your face into your bed to help.

“Really.. hot.” You murmured more to yourself rather than the man, but he heard regardless.

Rex couldn’t help the tinge of worry invading his body as he looked at you. He could hear the way you basically panted, as well as see your body rise and fall with every breath. He sucked in his own, rising to his feet and crossing the bedroom quickly.

“You’re not gonna be able to breathe like that, c’mon—“ he leaned upon your bed with a single hand whilst the other went for your arm, gently pushing you, however hissing the moment his palm made contact with your skin.

“Fuck, you’re boiling [Name].” Rex murmured, eyes casing down your front the moment you rested on your back. He immediately noticed the sweat presented on your skin, shining underneath your overhead light and trickling down your body. With each huff your chest was rising, hands clenching the shirt you wore as if to ground you.

“I’m.. starting to feel weird.” Your voice came out in a croak, as like it burned to speak; eyes blinking open to stare up at the man before you, which proved difficult given how you could barely focus.

Rex sucked in a breath, his hand gliding from your arm to instead maneuver towards your forehead. From the heat radiating against his palm it was clear you had a fever, terrible enough that it seemed to incapacitate you completely. Such a thought caused the man to worry, something he didn’t typically like doing but he couldn’t help it at this point.

“Are you in pain anywhere?”

You slowly shook your head, causing the man’s hand to glide lower, coming into contact with your cheek. The moment it did, you shivered, eyes shutting close and seemingly leaning into his touch. It felt cooling compared to the rest of your body, a funny thought given his entire power was exploding shit.

Still, it seemed like the remedy to your situation, causing you to basically sink into his touch; a sigh gliding through your nostrils.

This took Rex by surprise, eyes widening slowly at the display. You, the woman he was oh so sure hated him, was leaning into his touch? It truly must be winter in hell for such a thing to happen.

“[Name]..?” He called on hushed breath, throughly confused by the situation. You didn’t respond, at first; seemingly content with your cheek in his hand. But the moment Rex moved your eyes were flying open, reaching over to lock your fingers around his wrist.

“Don’t.. move. Please don’t move.”

You murmured softly, borderline whimpering as you turned to place the full weight of your head into his palm. Your fingers dragged down his wrist to his arm, coaxing him to stay just where you wanted— needed him to be. Your entire body was overheating at this point, your clothes feeling far too restricting as if you were ready to burst out the seams. You released a shuddering breath, shifting once more and allowing your lips to graze his skin, nose pressed up against his wrist in turn.

The moment his smell hit you, you were murmuring a soft swear; nails dragging against his skin as desperation began to fill your entirety.

Rex couldn’t do a thing but sit there and gape, attempting to stay composed despite what was unfolding before him. His fingers twitched as they glided close to you hair, feeling something else twitch as your lips traced his skin— fuck, what were you doing? The man wanted nothing more than to ask just that, tearing his hand away in the process.

But he couldn’t, not with the way those pretty eyes were fluttering at him, clearly so desperate for his touch. Rex’s tongue slipped out to glide across his bottom lip nervously, nearly convulsing as he watched your gaze fall to the simple action.

Everything was growing so hot around the two of you, as if the pheromones had seeped out completely and covered every inch of your room. Silence carried before your lips parted to speak a sweet,

“Rex..”

It took a moment for the man to reply with how his name tasted on your tongue. You had abandoned that usual hint of annoyance and frustration crafted specifically for him, instead choosing something so soft, and downright irresistible it was causing his mind to go wild.

His teeth dragged across his cheek, finally releasing a simple; “What is it? Do you.. want me to go get Robot?”

You couldn’t have shaken your head any faster, hand even tightening around his arm— as if truly scared his touch would leave. You brought your body closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him; eyes carrying down his form as soft huffs pushed through pouted lips.

“No..— please, please stay. I need you to stay, Rex.” A drawn out beg escaped you quickly, Rex sucking in air at your words. Stay? He had no choice but to. The two of you were quarantined after all.

But something told him that wasn’t what you were only entailing. Something, like how your gaze simply couldn’t focus on a single spot; trailing from his face down to his legs— lingering there for a moment before returning back to his features.

“Then wha—“

“I need,” You begun slowly, struggling to find the words as hurried breaths escaped. The feeling running through you was completely foreign, sensations, senses, all of it; cranked up completely to one hundred. Fear of the unknown pooled deep in your stomach, followed by something else entirely the longer you looked at the man before you.

Finally you seemed to find what you wanted, fingers dragging against his skin once more, it pricking with each touch.

“You. I need you, Rex. I need to feel you..”

You were lying. This was a trick to fuck with him right? There’s no way you, wanted him in that way. It was all some ploy to admit something he didn’t want to, right? It had to be..

Rex wanted to open his mouth to refuse you, brain screaming at him to push you away. Push her, push her, push her— it thundered in his head as if the only plausible answer to the situation.

But the moment a single please escaped those pretty lips, the only thought in Rex’s head was;

Fuck this.

The hand upon you gripped your cheek with purpose, the man leaning to snatch your lips in a heated kiss. The moment the two of you connected, a soft whine escaped right into his mouth— your free hand latching onto his body quickly. Your lips moved in such a perfect rhythm, igniting your already hot body to basically boil over. You couldn’t help how desperate your lips were getting, whimpering and whining; practically begging for more out of the man.

The two of you parted, Rex watching the way you attempted to chase his lips, eyelids coming to hang low over green eyes that took you in so intently.

“Rex, please..”

“I hear you.” His words broke through the fog slowly clouding your mind, you completely focused on him and only him. The way he breathed, stared, how he ever so slowly lifted himself to hover over your sweltering body; bringing himself to rest on his forearm whilst the other hand continued to hold your face.

“I got you mama, shit..” Rex dragged softly as he pressed another kiss to your lips, leading his own down to your chin, neck, before stamping kisses right against your collarbone. Your taste was a perfect swirl of salty and sweet, curtesy of your sweat and the body wash you had previously used. The man released your face to instead carry his hand downwards, soon reaching the edge of your shirt; breaching the clothing to spread his hand across your stomach.

Rex could nearly groan the moment his fingers clenched, delighted by the way his digits sunk into your plump flesh— hot against his hand and completely perfect despite what he claimed. His eyes took you in searching for something, anything that would tell him to stop— that you didn’t want this at all. But the man only received a pout, and eyes filled to the brim with want.

For him, and only him.

Such a look had him shuddering, leaning close and muttering a quick so desperate for me right upon your lips— such words causing you to keen and melt into him completely. Your arms wrapped around him tightly, never wishing to let go as you felt his comforting hand crossing from your warm stomach and up, the cool air gliding across your skin the more exposed it got.

You gasped as Rex’s fingers traced your breast for a moment, simply playing with you before allowing two of them to enclose a hardened nipple; stimulating the peak so perfectly that sparks were emitting between your thighs. You couldn’t help but lift your hips up, finding what you wanted — his thigh — and dragging yourself up and down slowly.

The stimulation caused you to pant into him, sounds overtaken the moment his tongue intruded your mouth; licking into the dark space with such interest. With a twirl of your two wet, appendages you were moaning softly, feeling the combined spit trickle down your chin the longer you kissed.

You were already dizzy before but with his mouth, fingers, and thigh; you could only describe your mind being a spiral with no end in sight.

As he pulled away you panted, grinding against his thigh like some pathetic dog in heat— clearly desperate for friction to ease the ache between your legs.

Rex took you in greedily, rising up to his haunches, continuing to tweak your breast whilst his other hand carried from your bed and to your body, dragging across your covered sex. Your shorts were soaked, basically ruined; arousal seeping through the fabric easily. He watched as you practically withered at his touch, not so secretly rising your hips to his hand once again.

With another drag of his hand you were whining, peeking up at the man;

“Rex.. don’t tease, please don’t tease me.”

You were palpable, shaking, wanting, needing— everything and anything Rex could have ever wanted. The last thing on his mind was teasing you again.

He was practically tearing your pants and panties off, tossing them to some corner you could worry about later. Your thighs parted, exposing the way a glossy, slick coated your aching cunt; clit swollen, begging for attention as your hole fluttered. Rex couldn’t help but drool, dipping his fingers to coat in your essence, watching the way you practically shook from the naked touch.

“Fuck.. you’re soaked.” Rex whispered, dragging a finger along before finding your little button, circling it carefully. He watched the way your face screwed up in pleasure, how your thighs twitched, slowly enclosing his hand— refusing to let him go where you needed him most.

Your eyes glossy, a film of pure lust covering the pretty gaze; such a look had the man basically huffing, feeling all inhibitions leave his body in a single trickle. Rex continued to circle your swollen clit, feeling the way you so desperately rose into his hand, he knew this was the most sensitive part of a woman, but god— the way you withered was otherworldly.

“Rex, Rex, Rex..” You were whining his name so pathetically, fingers tugging at your blankets as your hips swiveled in the direction of his finger. The ache inside of you only seemed to grow, the pressure building up in your stomach and threatening to spill over. You could feel the way globs of arousal basically pooled from within you, trickling down to your taint and surely staining the bedsheets.

“Fuck… why do you look so pretty like this?”

The question was spoke out loud, yet truthfully not for you to answer. Rex racked his brain on why exactly he waited so long to have you like this. He was such a dick, truly and utterly— to you, and to himself.

The man’s eyes flicked from your pretty pussy back to your even prettier features, gliding his fingers lower to prod at your weeping entrance; easily pushing two digits in to which your velvety walls basically sucked in.

He wasted no time in thrusting the appendages in and out, enjoying the way your moans pitched so perfectly; hitting every inch of his brain in the best symphony. He scissored and curled, brushing up against that spongy spot you; yourself, have never been able to reach with your own fingers.

And the moment Rex’s thumb rose, sweeping across your sensitive button; you were truly done for.

Your hand flew down to his wrist, gripping, refusing to let him go as rushed cries quickly turned into sharp bellows of his name the longer he ruined you with his fingers. It shouldn’t feel this damn good at all. Not simply because it was his fingers but also because it was Rex himself.

The idiot that always looked at you with such disdain, always treated you oddly, mocking you— the whole nine yards like some little bully. Yet here he was, staring at you so sweetly while easing that desperate ache that only he could solve. Only him.

You would slap yourself later. When your mind wasn’t so warped. For now, you wanted nothing more than to be ruined and built right back up by the man you claimed to hate.

Your nails scratched at his skin, thighs closing in around his arm as that pressure thundered deep in your stomach— ready to burst at any time. You couldn’t help the way tears pricked at your eyes, spilling over with each of your quick blinks.

In your daze you heard Rex coo, maybe whisper; soon feeling him move towards your side, face hovering close to your own whilst his fingers continued that perfect rhythm inside of you.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing you like this,” Awe clung to his words, heavy lidded eyes dedicating each pleasure stricken feature to memory; refusing to let it go. “So fucking perfect like this.. I’m such a dick, fuck—“ Rex wondered if he was suddenly getting infected, given the way you so easily took over every sense of his. He felt, smelt, saw, and tasted just about every inch of your presence; a concoction that even the best bartender couldn’t even begin to replicate.

“—Mm close! Fuck.. Rex, please..!”

Your walls clung to his fingers, peak rising so quickly only to crash even faster. The tears spilled over, coating your cheeks whilst your arousal coated his fingers, and your bedsheets. You shook from the aftershocks, desperately trying to catch your breath; whining the moment you felt Rex remove his fingers.

The man opened his mouth to speak, but you moved much faster, reaching out to plant your hands onto his shoulders. You rose, pressing your lips to his own whilst pushing at his body; affectively getting him to lay onto his back whilst you crawled over his body.

Rex could nearly cum in his pants the moment you laid out amongst him, his hands immediately falling to your plush thighs, tugging them; eyes rolling back at how soft you felt against his skin. And the moment he realized you were dragging your hips, smearing your messy pussy across his covered bulge; the man pulled back to groan, shuddering breaths escaping his chest.

“Fuck, fuck— wait, don’t you need to, recover— [Name]?”

“Nnn.. no, no..”

He watched as you rose to sit in his lap, hips still bucking, still grinding and rolling like some machine that refused to turn off. You looked like a fucking goddess above him, hair a mess yet framing your features perfectly, eyes glossy, lips shining with your combined saliva; Rex wondered what he did he do to deserve such a display.

“Need more.. fuck I need it Rex, please!” With a particularly long drag of your hips you were shaking, hands pressed against his chest, crumpling the shirt he wore within your palms. It was like your body didn’t care you had finished just a second ago, still completely aching in desperation as if you were completely untouched.

Your sweet whines did something to Rex, the man swearing under his breath, the previous worry he held for you no longer present. Wasting no time, he allowed his hands to fall from your body to instead find the waistband of his pants, resting his feet onto the bed to shimmy his garments down to his thighs.

His length sprung from its confinements, tip flushed with pearly globs of white slipping from its slit. You brushed close, sweltering center dragging across it so perfectly the both of you could only groan.

Rex’s hands found your hips again, squeezing the flesh within his fingers as his own hips rose to buck into you. “C’mon mama, it’s all yours.. don’t tease.” His head tilted, eyes fluttering closed the moment you ground against him once again. His tip bumped against your swollen button, dragging to your fluttering hole; prodding there for a moment before slowly pushing past the ring of muscle.

The man downright shivered, sparks running down his spine the way your wet walls clung to his dick, shaping around it so perfectly he swore you were made just for him. You weren’t any better, nearly falling apart as you enveloped him completely— ass rested on his legs, seated so perfectly. The stretch should have burned, but you only felt pure bliss with every inch pushed into you. Filled to the brim, his dick basically throbbing inside you, veins brushing against your walls; hitting places you didn’t even know existed.

You didn’t wait to adjust, to allow air to even fully expand your lungs before you were lifting yourself until only the tip remained inside— dropping down in one full motion. The moan released you was pure sickeningly sweet honey, clutching the man so desperately as more hurried drops of your hips followed.

Rex clung to your hips for dear life, barely being able to keep himself together. The single thought of don’t come, don’t come, swirled inside his mind; proving more difficult the longer you rode him. His body shook with each heavy pant he released, nails digging into your plush skin as his eyes nearly met his skull.

“Jus… ha— just like that baby, fucking use me—“ His feet suddenly planted firmly upon your bed, meeting each of your ruts with his own thrusts, tip striking your g-spot so perfectly.

Stars invaded your vision, body sweltering, sweat trickling down every single part of your body— but you refused to stop, you couldn’t. You felt as if you could die without this. And they may have been true, with how you were clinging to the man like he was some kind of anchor.

You lowered yourself, quick breaths fanning across his exposed skin; whining the moment you felt his arms wrap tightly around your waist, feeling him drill into you without a care.

“Rex, o—oh god, fuck!” You shoved your face into his neck, sniffling and sobbing as that ache swelled. You weren’t even thinking properly nor making sense, incoherent words that sounded like some jumbled prayer of his name slipping off your tongue far too quickly.

Before you could even breathe the man was suddenly flipping your positions, hands going for your thighs and spreading you open— fucking into you so deeply, you could have sworn he was in your cervix at this point.

“So perfect.. fucking perfect, fuck, fuck..” His words came out in a drawn fashion, eyes glued to your body. He pushed your thighs, watching the way your stomach rolled up in response; Rex swearing he was getting hard all over again. Your breasts bounced with every thrust, ass rippling each time his hips made contact.

Far too quickly you were coming undone, coil snapping without warning leaving you a shaking mess that could only gasp and cry. Your slick escaped, coating his dick; creating a creamy ring around the base as he simply would not, stop, moving. Instead the man lowered, coming closer and sliding your legs to his shoulders.

Through shallow thrusts Rex spoke, “Been so fucking mean to you. You forgive me baby, huh?” All while planting the sweetest kisses against your skin, as if he wasn’t utterly wrecking you.

You could only whine, hands sliding to his back, dragging your nails against him as you shook your head far too fast— making yourself even more delirious then before.

But that wasn’t enough for the man, no, that wasn’t what he wanted, needed.

A hand came between the two of you, easily finding your messy clit and rubbing circles into the bud. You shook, overstimulation biting at your body to the point you were keening.

“Wanna hear you say it, pretty…” Rex spoke in-between sharp thrusts and shaky exhales. “—I was a fucking ass..asshole, and liar; every inch of you is perfect.. shit, you have me obsessed [Name].”

It was clear the man wasn’t thinking straight from how easily the confession swept from his lips, some type of metaphorical weight being lifted off his shoulders the moment it was uttered however. Rex took in the way you struggled to keep your eyes on him, and with how you were tossing back and forth between ecstasy he was sure you hadn’t heard a damn thing.

Still, the pace of both his fingers and hips quickened, moving much closer to kiss you, soft cooes of forgive me, being pushed into your mouth.

Your hands trailed to his hair, bun long forgotten as the strands peeked and slid between the gaps of your fingers. Rex swallowed your last bellow, your entire body jerking as you squirted, making a complete mess of him, yourself, and your bed.

He wasn’t too far behind, groaning into you as he drove himself deeper, gripping your skin as he flooded you with his come; adding to the mess the moment it began to trickle out.

Rex’s hips finally stilled, hand even moving away from your pretty cunt yet his lips remained on you, still kissing you so sloppily yet gingerly. Moments passed of this lip locking before he pulled away for air, forehead resting against your own as he greedily sucked it up.

You panted as well, that once unquenchable ache now very dull compared to before. You melted into the bed, sighing heavily as your hands dragged from his hair to his cheeks, collecting them in your palms.

“I forgive you.” You whispered, watching recollection cross his features, causing your lips to curl into a little grin. “But yeah, you’re a dick.”

Rex couldn’t help the little grin pulling his lips, “I know. But hey, I helped you get rid of that monster plant piss— just had to sweat it out.”

You groaned softly, pushing at his body to which the man laughed, refusing to break away.

“You ruin everything.”

[moncherriecoups]

Muted Hearts - Before Us

The one who let me know and see myself

You are my only reason

If you'll remember me forever

Then it's okay for me to get hurt

My heart carved with your light

Only makes me stronger

Your sharp thorns, please give it to me

'Cause you're my flower

Chapter 10.2

February 2024

Seungcheol didn’t particularly like change.

His life was structured—schedule after schedule, practice, meetings, rehearsals, workouts. If he could keep at least one thing constant, he would. And for the longest time, that one thing was the gym in the company building. It was close, private, and most importantly, familiar.

But then came Kim Mingyu.

"Hyung, please," Mingyu had whined, practically draping himself over Seungcheol's back after practice. "I found this gym, and it’s so much better than the one at the company. The vibe is cozy, the equipment is brand new, and they even have protein shakes made fresh at the counter—fresh, hyung!"

Seungcheol had barely looked up from his phone, already suspicious. "Then go by yourself?"

"I hate going alone."

Of course he did. Mingyu was practically a golden retriever in human form—thrived in companionship, hated doing anything solo. But Seungcheol wasn’t about to be dragged across town just because the younger one wanted a change of scenery.

Until Mingyu pulled out the final weapon.

"You do realize that our company gym is getting boring, right? Same people. Same routines. Same everything. Don’t you feel a little tired of it, hyung?"

Seungcheol had scoffed at the time, brushing it off with a lazy wave. But later that night, when he was back at the company gym, cycling through the same warm-ups, the same weights, the same sterile environment—he felt it.

That nagging sense of monotony.

And somehow, that was how he found himself standing outside a gym on the other side of town the following week, arms crossed, watching Mingyu practically bounce with excitement.

"See? It’s nice, right?" Mingyu beamed, swiping his membership card at the entrance. "And the people here are so chill, no one even looks twice at us!"

Seungcheol hummed noncommittally as he followed inside. The gym was… decent. Smaller than their company one, but the atmosphere was different. Cozy, like Mingyu had said. Warm lighting instead of the harsh fluorescents he was used to. A good mix of people—some regular gym-goers, others just there to stay active. No overly eager fans, no suffocating attention.

Alright, fine. Maybe Mingyu had a point.

"I'll give it a shot," Seungcheol finally muttered, rolling his shoulders.

"YES!" Mingyu fist-pumped like he had just won a bet.

–

This gym was never supposed to be a regular thing.

Originally, it was just a favor to Mingyu—a one-time visit, or so he thought. The younger member had insisted, claiming it was quieter than their company gym, had better equipment, and was “literally the perfect place to work out without distractions.”

"Just try it once, hyung," Mingyu had grinned, throwing an arm over his shoulder. "You’ll thank me later."

That never happened. But somehow, he kept coming back.

Not because of anything particularly special. He wasn’t someone who enjoyed changing up his routine. And yet, after that first visit, the place stuck in his mind.

It was quiet. No fans waiting outside, no cameras catching him off guard. The staff and members treated him like anyone else—just a guy coming in for a workout. No stares, no whispers.

It felt… normal.

And maybe that’s why his schedule started shifting around it.

At first, he only went when Mingyu was free. But, predictably, the younger man’s enthusiasm didn’t last long.

"Hyung, I can't today—early shoot."

"Hyung, let’s go tomorrow instead, I need sleep."

"Hyung, you’re still going? Damn."

One excuse after another, until he was going alone.

But stopping never crossed his mind. Somewhere along the way, this place had carved itself into his day, becoming as routine as practice or work. It wasn’t just about staying in shape anymore—it was about the rare stillness. A moment in his schedule that belonged to him.

And then, there was her.

It wasn’t immediate. No dramatic first meeting, no slow-motion glances across the gym.

She was just another regular at first. Someone who happened to be there at the same time.

Until she wasn’t just that anymore.

The little things started standing out. The way she always tied her hair back in a loose ponytail, strands slipping free by the end of her session. The way she scrolled through her phone between sets, completely lost in whatever she was reading. The way she carried herself—focused, steady, like nothing around her mattered.

Tuesdays. Thursdays. Fridays.

Always at the same time.

Always leaving just as he arrived.

He shouldn’t have cared about that.

But somehow, he did.

Because for someone he had never spoken to, who had never even looked his way—she was taking up space in his mind in a way he didn’t know how to stop

–

March, 2024

Seungcheol liked to believe he wasn’t easily distracted.

But lately, something had shifted.

It wasn’t the usual exhaustion from packed schedules or the weight of being SEVENTEEN’s leader. This was different—subtle, creeping in before he even realized it.

At first, it was just a passing thought. A brief glance at the clock before heading to the gym, an unconscious check to see if she was there.

Then, it became routine.

The moment he stepped inside, his eyes would instinctively scan the room, searching for a familiar figure. He told himself it was nothing—just habit, like any other part of his workout.

But on the days she wasn’t there, when the space felt a little emptier, a strange sense of disappointment settled in his chest.

Which made no sense.

He didn’t even know her.

She was just another gym-goer, part of the usual crowd.

And yet, habits were hard to break.

And once something—or someone—caught his attention, Seungcheol wasn’t the type to ignore it.

So, when he finally saw her up close for the first time, it hit him harder than expected.

The gym was quiet that afternoon, with only a few regulars scattered around. Seungcheol had just finished warming up when he turned—and there she was.

By the weights, adjusting her wrist wraps, completely focused on the task.

He shouldn’t have stared.

But something about the moment made it hard to look away.

Maybe it was the way she moved—calm, composed, lost in her own world. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, as if nothing could shake her.

Or maybe it was something else entirely.

Something he wasn’t ready to put into words.

He forced himself to look away, shaking off the thought.

Because that’s all it was.

A passing moment.

Nothing more.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

But the feeling lingered longer than it should have.

–

Obsession wasn’t in his nature. He was a leader, a decision-maker—someone who set goals and saw them through. But this? This was different.

The mystery of her lingered.

For weeks, she had been a presence just beyond his reach, slipping away before he could ever get close. Not once had they spoken, not once had he managed to be in the right place at the right time, yet somehow, she had taken up space in his thoughts.

And that wasn’t something he could ignore.

So, for the first time in a long time, curiosity got the better of him.

Answers weren’t hard to find—people talked, and the gym staff knew him well. A few casual questions here and there, nothing too obvious, and finally, he got what he wanted.

Her name.

Jang Sua.

He turned it over in his mind, testing how it sounded, how it felt. Simple, refined, carrying a quiet sort of confidence. It suited her.

And yet, the moment he had it, something about it tugged at him.

Familiar.

Like a name he had heard before but never really registered.

The realization didn’t hit him until later, when he was lounging in the practice room, half-listening to the others’ conversation.

Jang Sua.

Minghao’s Jang Sua.

The name that had surfaced in passing, always spoken with quiet admiration. The gallery girl, the art specialist—the one who had guided Minghao through paintings, pushed him beyond his comfort zone.

Recognition struck first. And then, something heavier. Something far more unsettling.

Minghao liked her.

Maybe not openly, maybe not in a way the others had picked up on, but now it was clear—the way Minghao’s voice shifted when he spoke about her, the way he lingered on details that had nothing to do with art.

And now, he wanted her too.

A slow exhale left his lips as he leaned back against the couch, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Of course, it had to be her.

Because nothing was ever simple.

And walking away had never been his style.

—

“You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” Jeonghan mused, lazily swirling the straw in his iced americano.

Across from him, the man in question sat slumped in his chair, arms crossed, brows furrowed. It wasn’t like Seungcheol to be this quiet, especially during their late-night café runs. Normally, he was the one rambling about schedules, workouts, or whatever drama had unfolded in the group chat that day. But tonight? Silence.

Jeonghan smirked. “It’s a girl, isn’t it?”

The sharp exhale that followed was all the confirmation he needed.

“Not just any girl,” Jeonghan continued, amused. “It’s her, isn’t it? The gym girl you’ve been secretly obsessed with.”

At that, Seungcheol groaned, tilting his head back against the booth. “I’m not obsessed.”

“Sure. That’s why you’ve been going to the gym religiously every day at the same time, hoping to ‘accidentally’ run into her.”

He had nothing to say to that, so he took a slow sip of his drink instead.

Jeonghan leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. “Alright, so what’s the problem? You like her. She doesn’t even know you exist. What’s stopping you?”

A beat of hesitation.

“…Minghao.”

That wiped the smirk off Jeonghan’s face. “Ah.”

Seungcheol exhaled, fingers tapping against his cup. “He likes her.”

There it was—the thing that had been gnawing at him for weeks now. Minghao wasn’t the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but it was painfully obvious. The way he talked about her, the subtle way his expression softened whenever her name came up… it didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

And yet, despite years of knowing her, he had never made a move.

“So let me get this straight.” Jeonghan sat back, tapping his fingers against the table. “Minghao’s liked her for years but never confessed, and now you like her too.”

Seungcheol nodded.

“And you’re debating whether or not to do something about it?”

Another nod.

Jeonghan let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You know, for someone who acts all tough, you’re surprisingly considerate.”

Seungcheol scoffed. “Hannie.”

“Listen,” Jeonghan leaned in, voice low but firm, “if you make a move first and she chooses you, then that’s how it’s supposed to be. Minghao had years, Seungcheol. If he really wanted to be with her, he would’ve done something by now.”

That… was cruel.

But also true.

Seungcheol hated to admit it, but the thought had crossed his mind before. If Minghao was really that serious about her, why hadn’t he said anything? Why had he stayed in the safe zone all this time?

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Jeonghan added, as if reading his thoughts. “You like her. You want to ask her out. That’s normal. What happens next? That’s up to her.”

The words settled in his chest, heavy but strangely reassuring.

He’d spent so much time hesitating, caught between his own feelings and the unspoken ones of his friend. But at the end of the day, the choice wasn’t his—or Minghao’s—to make.

It was hers.

And he was done waiting.

—

April, 2024

He never thought she'd say yes.

Even as the words left his mouth—carefully measured, laced with quiet hesitation—he had braced for rejection. He had prepared himself for the moment she would scoff, roll her eyes, maybe even look at him like he was out of his mind.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she tilted her head, studied him like she was searching for something beneath his careful composure, and then—"I’ll sign it."

And just like that, the ground beneath him shifted.

—

Dating Sua was unlike anything he had known before.

There were no grand declarations, no textbook romance gestures. She didn’t expect flowers or public displays of affection, didn’t demand more than what he could give.

Instead, she gave him something far more dangerous—a place to rest.

She never pried, never asked about things he wasn’t ready to share. Yet somehow, she always knew—when to let him be, when to tease him out of his exhaustion, when to lean against his shoulder and let the silence stretch comfortably between them.

Seungcheol had never met someone so effortlessly steady.

And he was already in too deep before he even realized he was falling.

—

The night it happened, he hadn’t planned for it.

They were at his apartment, the air thick with unspoken things. She sat on the couch in his hoodie, fingers wrapped around a cup of tea, looking so effortlessly like she belonged there that it made his chest ache.

Then, somewhere between soft laughter and quiet touches, she kissed him first.

It was barely there at first—a gentle press of lips, like she was testing something, waiting for him to stop her.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his hands found her waist, anchoring himself to her, deepening the kiss with a hunger he hadn't let himself acknowledge until now.

He felt her sigh against him, soft and warm, and something inside him broke.

It had been so long.

Too long since he let himself have this, let himself want without hesitation, without restraint.

And now, with her beneath him, her skin warm beneath his fingertips, her name a quiet prayer on his lips—he realized just how much he had missed this.

Missed her.

His hands trembled slightly as he traced the curve of her back, mapping the shivers he pulled from her, the soft gasps that sent heat curling through his veins.

"Are you okay?" she whispered, her fingers threading through his hair.

He exhaled a quiet laugh, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Yeah." His voice was rougher than he expected. "You?"

She nodded, eyes heavy-lidded, lips swollen, beautiful.

And when he finally sank into her, when she breathed his name like it was something sacred—he knew.

There was no coming back from this.

—

After that night, it was over for him.

Seungcheol had always been careful—always kept a part of himself tucked away, guarded.

But now?

Now he was completely gone for her.

It was in the way he caught himself staring when she wasn’t looking. The way he found excuses to touch her, even in the smallest ways—a hand on the small of her back, fingers brushing hers, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against her skin.

The way he would wake up before her just to watch the slow rise and fall of her breath, to commit the softness of her to memory before the world pulled him away again.

He was in love with her.

So hopelessly, maddeningly in love with her that it scared him.

Because for the first time in a long time, he had something he couldn’t afford to lose.

—

August, 2024

Seungcheol had been careful.

At least, he thought he had been.

No one was supposed to know—not yet. Not until he figured out how to handle this properly. The moment the members found out, it would spread like wildfire. Not to the public, of course; he trusted them more than anyone. But within the group, between the teasing and the pestering, there would be no keeping it to himself.

So he had been careful. He had hidden it well. Or so he thought.

But now, as he sat in the dressing room, staring at the read receipt on his phone, he realized maybe he hadn’t been as subtle as he’d believed.

He had been smiling.

And someone had noticed.

"Who the hell is ‘Sua’?"

Seungcheol’s head jerked up.

Mingyu was standing over him, eyes locked onto his screen before he could react. He locked it immediately, but it was too late. DK was already launching himself onto the couch, eyes wide with betrayal.

"HYUNG, WHO IS SUA?? Secret girlfriend? Hidden manager? Are you being blackmailed? BLINK TWICE IF—"

"Mind your business," Seungcheol muttered, shoving him off, but his voice didn’t have enough bite.

Mingyu grinned, nudging his shoulder. “No, but really. Who is she?”

Seungcheol exhaled, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

"Someone important."

That should’ve been enough. That should’ve ended it.

But when he stood, stretching to make his escape, his gaze flickered across the room—

And there was Minghao.

Silent. Watching.

Seungcheol froze for a split second, just enough to feel the weight of Minghao’s gaze.

And then he turned away.

He knew that look.

Knew it too well.

Minghao had already figured it out.

—

Seungcheol wasn’t sure how long he had before Minghao confronted him, but he knew it was coming.

Minghao never reacted impulsively, never made a scene. He was careful, methodical, always waiting for the right moment to ask the right question.

So when the others had filtered out, leaving just the two of them backstage, Seungcheol didn’t need to turn around to know he was there.

"You’re seeing her."

It wasn’t a question.

Still, Seungcheol took his time turning. He could pretend to be surprised. He could play dumb. But there was no point.

Instead, he just met Minghao’s gaze.

"Yes."

Minghao didn’t flinch. Didn’t sigh. Didn’t react the way the others would have.

He just studied him.

"You never told me."

It wasn’t an accusation, but it wasn’t just a statement either. It held something else—something heavier, something that made Seungcheol’s stomach twist.

Because there was a truth underneath it.

You never told me.

But I told you about her.

I talked about her. I admired her. I trusted you.

And now, suddenly, she’s yours.

Seungcheol clenched his jaw, exhaling slowly. He could say I didn’t have to. He could say I didn’t think it mattered.

But both of those would be lies.

Minghao had noticed before anyone else. That was the kind of person he was—someone who paid attention, someone who saw things before they were spoken aloud. He had noticed the way Seungcheol lingered on his phone, the way his expression softened before locking the screen. He had noticed the flowers, the careful way Seungcheol crafted his words.

And now, standing in front of him, he wasn’t asking because he didn’t know.

He was asking because he wanted to know why.

Seungcheol swallowed. He could offer an excuse. Say it happened fast, that he didn’t want to make it a big deal. But none of those were true either.

He had avoided telling Minghao.

Because he knew it would feel like this.

Because he knew—deep down—that Minghao cared more than he ever let on.

And maybe that was the part that made Seungcheol feel guilty.

Minghao let out a quiet laugh, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just be careful, hyung.”

It wasn’t a warning. It wasn’t a threat.

It was a reminder.

Seungcheol didn’t ask what he meant.

Didn’t tell him that it was already too late for that.

—

September, 2024

It was supposed to be a casual night.

One of those rare evenings where practice ended early enough for them to grab drinks together, unwind after hours of sweating under bright lights and sharper critiques.

So here they were, packed into their usual spot—an upscale but quiet bar tucked away from prying eyes—nursing cold beers and emptying shared plates of anju.

Seungcheol had just returned from ordering another round when he felt it.

That shift in the air.

Subtle, but there.

The way the conversation slowed just slightly as he sat back down, the way glances flickered toward him—too fleeting to call out, but just enough to make his skin prickle.

And then—

“So,” Seungkwan began, slow, casual. A little too casual. “Sua, huh?”

Jun hummed, swirling his drink. “Interesting.”

"Very interesting,” Joshua echoed.

Seungcheol sighed, setting his glass down. “Just say it.”

Jeonghan, ever the executioner, leaned back with a lazy smirk. “We just realized something.”

A beat.

"She’s the same Jang Sua that Minghao always talks about."

Seungcheol barely reacted, years of self-control keeping his expression neutral.

But inside?

Inside, something twisted.

Of course, they figured it out.

He didn’t dare glance at Minghao, who sat a little too still, fingers resting lightly against his glass, gaze unreadable.

Vernon, unbothered as always, was the first to break the quiet. “Damn. Small world.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Woozi muttered.

DK, who always took a second longer to catch on, blinked. “Wait, so—” He turned to Minghao. “Isn’t she the one you always—”

“Drop it,” Minghao cut in smoothly.

The words weren’t sharp, but they carried weight.

DK shut up.

And just like that, the tension stretched taut.

Seungcheol breathed evenly, keeping his expression unreadable.

He didn’t owe anyone an explanation.

But under their scrutiny, he felt like he did.

Because he knew what they might thinking.

Was there something between them?Did she play them both?Did Minghao like her first?

It was bullshit.

Sua wasn’t like that.

And Minghao wasn’t the type to get strung along.

Seungcheol knew this.

And yet, the thought that even one of them might be entertaining the idea made his stomach coil uncomfortably.

He felt his jaw tighten, shoulders stiffening—

Then—

A soft nudge under the table.

Jeonghan.

Seungcheol turned slightly, catching the lazy way Jeonghan sipped his drink, the ever-knowing glint in his eyes.

“Cheol,” Jeonghan murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

And just like that, the tension in Seungcheol’s body unraveled.

Because he knew what Jeonghan meant.

Let it go.

Starting an argument now would only make things worse.

So instead, Seungcheol exhaled. Forced himself to relax.

Shrugged.

“What can I say?” He reached for his beer, voice easy, light. “Guess Minghao has good taste.”

A beat.

Then—

Jeonghan snorted.

The others groaned.

And just like that, the weight in the air lifted.

Conversation picked up again, the scrutiny shifting elsewhere, and the moment passed.

Seungcheol took a slow sip of his drink.

Beside him, Minghao said nothing.

But Seungcheol didn’t miss the way his fingers curled around his glass just a little tighter.

──────────────────────────────

two chapters in a day bcs why not :)

[rueclfer]

Shigadabi makes more sense than throwing hawks in that mix honestly. Hawks had more scenes with twice like if anyone, he should be with twice. Unless the manga shows more Dabi and Hawks interactions. Then I stand corrected, because I only know as far as the anime goes. I feel it makes no sense to ship characters who had less than two scenes together even if their pasts and backstories parallel each other or the characters are each others foils. In my view, if they haven’t interacted past a 10 minute exchange I don’t see shipping potential they have to be at least sharing a lot of screen time.

"it makes no sense to ship characters who had less than two scenes together even if their pasts and backstories parallel each other or the characters are each other's foils"

*throws up* so unfortunately i disagreeeeee and ik it's not that deep but if given an opportunity to talk about dabihawks i will take itttt

dabihawks is the type of ship that is only compelling because of their parallels and narrative foils. it's the type of ship where u rlly do have to read between the lines and understand the characters in order to "see it" and envision the possibilities even if that means having to look past the very little screen time they have interacting

-> hawks being seen as a human being for the first time in his life by the person that embodies everything he has been conditioned to hate (villains, dabi) when the people who raised him continues to only see him as a tool

-> dabi being understood for the first time by someone who went through very similar circumstance as him despite being painfully close to the person who ruined him in the first place (endeavor)

like it all about the possibilitiessssss hawks destined to be a villain like his father and ending up a hero and dabi destined to be a hero like his father and ending up a villain

*THROWS UPPPPP*

shigadabi to me is just me making my naked barbie dolls scissor like truly just to push the rude4rude freak4freak agenda i dont think they're canonically aligned at all LMAOOO like they barely interact past the end of the 2nd arc and dabi is also rlly fucking rude to shigs <\3 they r just 2 hot mean men i want to make kiss

[hotchnerwrites]

hi i have a really weird request i was hoping you’d fulfill :) i read your request guidelines and it says you write for spencer reid but it looks like you write majority hotch fics, which i also enjoy:) i have hoping for a spencer reid x reader fic, i don’t have much of a plot in mind so you may need to get creative, or maybe it could just be headcanons, but anything with a weird reader. like maybe she’s an elementary art teacher type vibe (maybe she’s actually an art teacher, or maybe she works at the BAU, your choice) and she has pet bugs and wears cool clothes, that sort of thing. everyone always writes the reader to be really type a, really similar to spencer, yk? and as much as i love those fics i personally think he’d work well with a little more carefree, creative type person too. thank you so much and you absolutely do not have to write this if you don’t want too!!

Ladybird 🐞

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Warnings: SFW, headcanons kinda, reader uses she/her pronouns, no use of (y/n), fluff

A/N: Hi anon! so glad you enjoyed my other fics! I'm so happy you requested Spencer, i've been itching to write my pookie but it's not a common request (yet?), i only have one other published fic of him. i looooooooooove writing his big brain self and ur idea of reader being an opposite personality type was so delicious to write ugh i'm quite happy with this fic. i also have some drafts of him (academic rivals, fluff fics etc.) but i don't post them bc im not at a 100% with them, they're much longer fics too lol. if you want those, i'm happy to post (slowly) so lmk. anyways, enough yapping, ENJOY THE READ!!! mwah mwah mwah <3

My requests are open! Please read my rules before req'ing. Send me stuff! :)

Spencer wasn’t accustomed to the sensation of being in the dark. If something new crossed his path, he’d devour every piece of information he could find, understanding it, processing it, then neatly filing it away in his mind for later use. The idea of being uncertain—it made him uneasy, like a puzzle with a missing piece, gnawing at him until he could fill it in. He hated the discomfort of not knowing.

But you… what were you?

You moved through life with a kind of fluidity he couldn’t quite grasp. Were you like water? No, no, you were too solid, too grounded for that. Fire, then? But you weren’t wild or destructive—your warmth didn’t burn Spencer, it invited him in. The wind, then. You were untethered and free. But even that didn’t feel quite right. The wind didn’t create, and you were full of creation. You existed in a plane ruled by feeling rather than logic, instinct over calculation.

Spencer couldn’t fathom you.

He prided himself on his ability to categorise things, to turn life into binary or categorical data. But you slipped like butter through his mental filing system, like something he could never quantify. You smelled like rain and cedar, like something both fresh and familiar, like petrichor clinging to the edges of an old wooden frame. He couldn’t place it, couldn’t place you, and maybe that was why he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

When you talked about your job— you were an elementary school art teacher— you talked about it with a kind of excitement that made Spencer envious. It was silly, really, but he wanted the one to be taught by you, to spend more time trying to figure you out. He loved his work, too, but it was so full of danger and death, and the way you loved yours made him want to be a part of the world you had.

The first time he met you, Spencer spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to decipher the colours in your outfit. He knew different textures weren’t supposed to be mixed (the Vogue magazine he had swiped at the doctor’s office had declared the mixing of dots and stripes a cardinal sin), but you had layered patterns like a painting. It shouldn’t have made sense. So why did it? He had opened his mouth to ask if there had been a method behind it, but you had flashed a smile at him that made his unfaltering mind stop dead in its tracks, and you had said, “Don’t overthink it, Spence. Just feel.”

As if it was something he knew how to do.

You weren’t chaotic, not exactly—but you were unpredictable. Spencer, with his equations and calculations, with his logic and probabilities, had always sought comfort in knowing the outcome before things even began. But you—you weren’t an equation. You were the space between the numbers, the part of the formula he couldn’t solve. You were a walking, talking example of Ramsey’s theorem— he knew where you started and where you ended, but he couldn’t untangle what was in between.

Every morning, you took a picture of your coffee. It was the same drink every day, but you persevered, swearing the foam made a new image every time. You’d tried to rope him into theorising with you, to get him to see the shape of the world in the swirls and patterns of the cream, but Spencer could never really see it like you. 

“You know it’s just milk and coffee, right?” He’d say, leaning over your shoulder to examine the mug. “There’s no scientific basis for anything more.” 

But you never held it against him. Sometimes, you’d nudge him with your elbow, a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth as you said, “I think you’re missing out on a whole new dimension of the universe, Reid.”

He’d hum, a little smile on his lips, and then he’d drop the subject—mostly. He wasn’t one to argue for long, especially when it came to the things that made you happy, like the ritual of your morning coffee or the way you’d rearrange your art supplies by colour, even though it made absolutely no sense.

When Spencer found out you kept bugs as pets, he’d nearly leapt out of his chair.

“You— you have a mantis,” he stammered, eyes wide as he watched you let it crawl delicately over your fingers.

“That’s not just a mantis, Spence,” you scolded him gently, a smile tugging at your lips, “Meet Matilda. She’s my friend.”

Spencer blinked, processing. “Statistically, most people keep a cat or a dog—“

“I’m not a statistic, Spence,” you’d reminded him, voice gentle as if you were talking to one of your school kids.

He tried to understand, tried to decipher why anyone would choose to keep an insect as a pet, but logic evaded him, a feeling he only experienced around you. But when he’d watch you play with Matilda like she was the best thing in the world, he let it go.

He started bringing you little things—odds and ends that made him think of you. A book of surrealist paintings he thought you’d like. A smooth, speckled rock he found outside the precinct. A jar of local honey from a case in a small town, because you once mentioned you liked the taste of dandelions.

And every time, you’d accept them like he had just handed you a moonbeam, eyes lighting up in unadulterated joy.

“See?” you had murmured one day, holding the honey jar up to the light. “You do feel things, Spencer. You just don’t realise it.”

No, it wasn’t about logic. Maybe, it was just about you.

One day, Spencer caught himself carefully placing a ladybug outside on a leaf, rather than brushing it away. As he counted its spots for you— something about them bringing luck— he realised something.

Oh.

I love her.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[woundedsoul12]

Why hello there, here is a lyrics prompt if you feel like it :)

"And it's my whole heart, weighed and measured inside" - Which witch, Florence + the Machine

Well this is great but.... have a little Varric x Trevelyan mixed with a little Rook x Lucanis. I'm sitting by the pool and really don't have the writing juice flowing so forgive me

For @sombra-oscura4 because Varric would call Lucanis/Spite wings

“Do they remind you of someone, Sparrow?” Varric eyes the Inquisitor as he motions across the room. To the pair with their heads pressed together. Subtle smile on the assassin's face as Rook goes over their plan. 

“I have no idea what you mean, Viscount Tethras,” she chuckles as she rolls her eyes. But he doesn't miss how her good hand finds his. Calloused fingers curling and twisting with his own. Seeking the comfort she knows only he can give. 

“Really? I seem to remember a dashing young dwarf and a young chevalier spending many late nights in Skyhold pouring over plans.” He pulls her closer as he speaks. A slight catch of her breathing as his arm wraps around her waist. Her body molding to his in that familiar way. Despite the years, they are still those two wayward lovers who met outside of Haven so long ago. 

“I recall those two doing much more than ‘pouring over plans’,” she teases as her voice drops low. Remembering the embarrassing amount of times her advisors caught them in the war room. 

“Well if we didn't have an audience-” 

As if on cue, Rook's voice calls out from across the room with a good-natured laugh, “Get a room you two. No one wants to see that.” 

“Hey now. Don’t act like we don’t know what you and Wings do on the kitchen table,” Varric answers back as Lucanis blushes from his neck to the tops of his ears. 

“Be nice,” Lea chides as she clicks her tongue with annoyance.

“Oh come on Sparrow, they're fine. Besides, if they fight just means they get to make up later.” 

“Like we used to fight,” she says with a frown as her eyes dip to his chest. To the jagged scar poking out from under his tunic. Where he was stabbed. Where she almost lost him. That last fight always fresh on her mind. When she almost didn't get to tell him how sorry she was. 

“Hey now-” He cups her chin and raises her downcast eyes. Hating the pain he sees there. The fear for what could have been, and the knowledge the worst may still come. “We always come back to each other, remember? You have my whole heart. Weighed and measured inside just for you.”

“I know,” she sighs as she presses her forehead to his. “I just- sometimes I miss you so much I just start to cry.” 

“And I'm flattered,” he chuckles to try to break the bleak mood as his hand comes to her cheek. “But I swear, I will be fine.” 

[spideypawz]

Totally original idea, never been done before.

[hanafubukki]

The fires keeps spreading….please stop spreading 😭😭 winds please stop already 🙏🙏

Being surrounded by fires 😭😔 its getting me stressed and very concerned.

I’m going to stress reblog, if I’m more quiet today…that’s why.

Praying the winds die down and the fires get contained 🙏🙏🙏