#and even then she comes out of hiding quickly

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just What I Need 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, control, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: In an effort to evade a creep, you walk head first into Bucky Barnes. (short!reader)

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: based on this

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The dress you choose is simple. Light pink. Nothing too over the top. You're not sure about what to wear on a date. It's your first one. Ever.

You flit around your apartment nervously. There isn't much room to do so. You keep knocking into things. Ugh. Why are you so nervous?

Maybe it's because of Bucky. You barely know him. He's a stranger. And he just told you to be ready. Oh, but how many men do you have even asking for a date?

The knock at the door makes you jump. Oh, it better not be Debbie telling you to turn down music you don't even have playing. You swear she imagines things to be unhappy about.

You shuffle to the door and slowly pull it open, keeping the chain in place. You let out a squeak of surprise.

"Bucky? How-- you didn't buzz up. Didn't I give you the number?"

He smirks and tilts his head as he extends an arm to lean on the door frame. "I have tricks," he assures you. "You ready, doll?"

You look at him. He looks nice. A black button-up and black pants; polished shoes that shine. His hair is parted and combed neatly. You can smell his rich cologne.

"I think," you say. "Just a minute."

You shut the door and spin away. You grab your purse and stumble to step into your shoes. Maryjanes with a short kitten heel.

You unhook the chain and open the door. Bucky pushes himself straight. "Thought you were about to ditch me," he chuckles.

"Sorry, no, I..." you lock the door and smile at him nervously. "Grabbing my stuff."

"Well, doll," he steps back and gestures to you with open hands. "Give me a spin. Let me see."

"Huh?"

"Well, you look good in the front. I bet the whole picture is even better."

You fidget and hook your purse on your shoulder. You wring your hands and turn slowly. Your body thrums with heat. You come to face him again, his teeth dug into his lower lip as he hums.

"Gorgeous, doll. And you're all mine."

He offers his hand. Your eyes flick over to the other; the one with the glove hiding metal plates. You quickly latch on. You don't want to be rude and you have no idea what you're doing. You'll let him lead the way.

He shifts his hand to grip yours. His hold on you is strong. He turns you down the hall. He struts proudly along beside your sheepish slink. You've never been the type to stand out.

Outside the building, the evening air is balmy. The street lights glow above and the moon beams down. He gestures along the sidewalk.

He stops you at a sleek black car. Even in the dim, you can see how the paint shines. It sticks out like a sore thumb in your neighbourhood. He opens the door and doesn't let go of you until you're in the seat.

He shuts the door gently and circles around to the driver's side. You take the subway, you walk, rarely you'll dole out for a cab. He has his own car. He must be well off. Is he as famous as he let on? Why didn't you look that up yet? Too busy, too anxious.

"Go for a nice dinner, get to know each other," he says as he turns the engine and it hums quietly. "Sounds like a dream getting to spend the night with a girl like you."

You blush. He's flattering. Almost too much. The praise is overwhelming and you don't want to come off ungrateful.

"Thanks."

"Thanks. No need. It's just the truth." He insists.

He pulls out from behind the car parked ahead of him. He steers with one hand as he snakes the other over the shifter. He grabs yours again. As he steers casually, his thumb rubs your knuckles. The touching is almost as smothering as his words.

You watch the streets pass by. You're not sure what else to do or say. You don't know if you've been to this part of the borough. He finds a spot and puts the car into park. He squeezes and reluctantly lets you go.

"Don't move," he commands.

He shuts off the engine and unclicks his seat belt. He gets out and hooks around, opening your door so swiftly it frightens you. You fumble to untangle from your seat belt and he once more opens his hand. You take it and he helps you to your feet. Your purse catches awkwardly on your hip as you stand and the contents spill onto the ground.

Bucky tuts and releases you. He bends to gather up your lip gloss, mascara, and your phone. He examines the last. His eyes drift up to yours.

"Wanna turn these off for the night? No distractions?" He asks.

"Oh, uh... yeah," you straighten your purse and reach for your things. He hands over the makeup but keeps the phone. He holds down the side button. You stare. It's another moment before he gives it to you.

He reaches under his jacket and slides out his phone. He taps the button at the top and puts it away again. He takes your hand just as you drop your phone into your purse.

"Come on. I booked us a table."

He tugs you up to the pavement. He pauses as he steps over the curb. He stops you as three men pass by, garbling loudly and laughing. He growls and shakes his head. He ways until they clear the space before he pulls you forward. "Punks," he mutters.

He guides you down the sidewalk to the hazy restaurant beneath a neon blue moniker. He lets you go and opens the door. He's so polite. You're glad to have him to lead you.

He enters behind you and greets the woman stood just inside with a tablet leaning on her bent arm, "hey, table for two. Barnes."

She scrolls through with a smile, "ah, yes sir, I see it here." She taps and lifts her head. "This way, please."

She strides through the doorway behind her and Bucky nudges you ahead of him. You follow her and he tails you. He puts a hand on your hip and keeps it there, as if not to lose you. His fingertips curl into you as he lets out a silty drone. He gets closer as you're shown to your table. He pulls out the chair as the hostess promises the quick arrival of a server and taps away on her heels.

You fold your hands on the table and look around. There's women in sparkling necklaces with beautiful chignons. You feel underdressed and underdone. You chew your lip.

Bucky sits. His own eyes scan the space and his forehead stitches. He huffs and arches a brow. You follow his gaze to another table. The blond man there shifts and quickly looks down at his menu.

"I didn't realise it would be so... fancy," you twiddle your fingers nervously.

"What'd you mean? You look wonderful, doll. The only girl in the room I can see," he pushes his shoulders wide and winks. "Not just me either."

He looks around once more. You don't understand what he means. You stare at the table.

"Something to drink?" He reaches for the smaller leather folio on the table.

"Hm, just water," you shrug. "I don't really... drink."

"Of course you don't, doll. You're a good girl. I know that," he considers the first page then closes the menu. "You don't want something fancier? Sparkling?"

"I think I'm okay," you assure him and wring your hands. Overly conscious of the frantic act, you pull your hands into your lap.

He clucks and his eyes narrow over your shoulder. He hunches slightly, almost defensively. He sighs.

You twist and look behind you. You just see tables with shadows. There's too much to focus.

"You notice it too, huh?" He rasps.

"Notice?"

"All these men. Staring at you."

"Me?" You squeak.

"Uh huh," he nods. "The minute we walked in."

"No, I don't think..." you eyes crawl over the table and find another pair. Brown eyes that seem to look above you, not at you, but you can't be sure.

"Right? I mean, that dress is amazing on you, sweetheart. Spectacular." He purrs. "But I'm not into sharing."

"Sharing... no. They aren't looking at me."

"Oh yeah? And what about that creep I scared off the other day? He wasn't following you?" He turns his blue eyes on you. "You don't get it, doll. You don't see the bad in people. That's why you asked me for help. You're this little mouse scurrying around in a city full of tomcats."

"What?" You shift in your seat as heat scalds across your chest.

"Look around then... tell me they aren't looking."

You gulp and do as he says. Shyly, you skim the space with your eyes. You frown and face him with a fruitless shrug.

"But... why?"

"Look, doll, you deserve the best. It's what I'm tryna give you but we can't stay here. I can't sit here and let them gawk at you. You're my girl," he grips the table and pushes his chair out. "Come on, we're going."

"What? Where?"

He sniffs and steps around the table. "Somewhere private. Somewhere safe."

He shows his palm and waits. You accept his hand and he pulls you up. 

A woman in all black approaches. "Oh, I was just coming for drinks--"

"No need. You can release the table," Bucky grits. "We're leaving."

"Oh, sir, I'm sorry. Is there something the matter?"

"Nothing you can fix," he shoulders past her and drags you with him. You give an apologetic wave and bow your head down.

He doesn't stop until you're outside. He heaves out a breath and his grip on your tightens. You squirm.

"I just couldn't stay. I'm sorry, doll. It's okay. How about we go back to mine, order in?" He turns to you. "Just us. That'd be perfect, wouldn't it?"

You stare up at him. Your nerves are still flickering. You can't believe what just happened. And after that man on the subway, you're starting to see these things more and more. You can't trust people in this city. It's lambasted across the newspapers and whispered outside your apartment door.

"Sure," you agree. "I just want to get out of here."

🤍

Bucky's building is nice. Just as nice as his car. Nicer than your place.

His life is so much bigger than yours...

He takes you up on the elevator as you bounce nervously on your feet. You never imagined your first date going like this. It isn't that you imagined one of those silver screen romances but the night has been unexpected for sure. You never thought you'd be going home with a man on the first night. It's not like that, but still.

He unlocks his door with a small fob on his keys. You just have an old-fashioned key. Another shortcoming. You feel smaller and smaller by the moment.

He holds the door and waves you inside. He flips on the lights as he follows you in. The high ceilings and open concept have you in awe. Windows stretching from floor to ceiling let in the night sky.

"Wow," you murmur.

"Bigger than I wanted, but the building is high security." He explains. "Got nothing to fill the space with."

It is a bit sparse but not any worse for it. He brushes by you, dragging his hand around your lower back.

"I got some sparkling juice. Buddy brought over this organic stuff. He can be a bit much," he chuckles. "What kinda food you into? Steak? Sushi?"

You watch him pass through a wide doorway. You can see right into the modern industrial kitchen. That's a style, right? It's like one of those decor magazines. Or a set for a photoshoot that's used once and torn down.

"Sure, juice sounds nice, thank you," you take off your heels before you trail after him. "I'll have whatever you like. I'm not picky."

"I wanna know," he insists as he searches the fridge. He takes out a long-necked bottle, "raspberry apple? Sound good?"

"Yeah, um, thanks."

He nods and moves along the counter. He's at ease. Not like at the restaurant. He was on high alert. You understand. You're much more comfortable at home.

He pours a tall glass of the juice and replaces the bottle on the fridge shelf. He grabs shorter brown bottle and pops the cap with his thumb. He takes the glass off the counter and offers it to you. You take it with another thanks.

"So, what do you usually get when you go out?"

"I don't eat out," you shrug.

"Aw, come on. Doesn't have to be fancy. Pizza? You know, when I was a teen, we lived off water pie. It's... different," he chuckles.

"Pizza's good with me," you sip the juice and your cheeks pinch.

"Whatever you say, doll. And I mean that. I want to give you everything you want so I don't want you just agreeing with me to agree," he nears and smiles as he reaches to pet your cheek. "A thing like you can ask me to get on my knees and I'll be kissing your feet."

You giggle in surprise, "please don't."

"Ha, alright," he shows his palm and swigs from the beer in his other hand. "Like I said, you're the boss."

[sh4nksslvt]

shanks x reader with a cat-like or cat based zoan devil fruit?

sounds cool www

Claws, Cuddles, and Catnip Chaos

Shanks will do anything to win over the crew’s mischievous cat-like Devil Fruit user—even if it means competing with Benn and surviving a sneak-attack nap.

shanks x reader | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, light romance, nap cuddles, clingy antics, catnip a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff a bit cringe, akward, and confusing word count: 991

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

There were exactly three things the Red-Haired Pirates learned about you very quickly:

You were a certified menace in a cat’s body.

You had zero respect for personal space—unless it was Shanks’s.

You absolutely, unapologetically favored Benn Beckman.

"She purrs for you, Benn?! I've fed her, I've scratched her ears, I even gave her that weird fish jerky from Dressrosa!"

Shanks was sulking—again—as you laid sprawled across Benn’s lap like a lazy feline sunbathing, flicking your tail with royal indifference while he casually stroked between your ears.

“She lets me pet her when she’s in a good mood,” Benn replied calmly, taking a drag of his cigar. “Maybe try not throwing her off your shoulder when she lands there mid-meeting.”

“She knocked over seven mugs in ten seconds!”

“I was clearing the table for snacks,” you muttered, not opening your eyes.

“You yeeted a map. Into the ocean.”

You rolled onto your back, belly up, tail flicking toward Benn’s arm. “Benny understands me. Right, Benny?”

Benn chuckled, slow and satisfied. “You’re a little gremlin, but you’re my gremlin.”

Shanks practically burst into flames from jealousy. “That’s MY gremlin!”

"Ownership implies consent," you said, still not moving.

“You SLEPT ON HIS DESK FOR THREE HOURS!”

“I was asserting dominance.”

Shanks’s eye twitched.

Flashback: The “Desk Incident”

You’d sauntered into the war room mid-strategy meeting, tail high, whiskers twitching with curiosity. No one questioned it. You did this all the time.

Except this time, instead of knocking over a globe or licking a compass like a weirdo, you simply walked across the table, plopped down on Benn’s open map, and curled up into a ball.

Then you snored.

For three hours.

Shanks tried to nudge you off gently at first.

You bit him.

When Benn reached over and scratched your chin, you purred like a motorboat and flopped onto your side.

"Traitor," Shanks muttered.

Back to the Present

"Alright, that's it," Shanks declared, standing on a barrel dramatically. "From now on, I'm enacting Operation: Make Cat Fall in Love with Me."

Benn raised an eyebrow. "That’s the name you’re going with?"

"YES," Shanks snapped. "Step one: catnip. Step two: fish. Step three: ultimate snuggles."

"She’ll see right through it," Benn said, but he was smirking.

You stretched and yawned loudly. “I can hear you, you know.”

“I’m not hiding it!” Shanks declared. “I’m wooing you.”

“Woo me and you die.”

“You’re saying that now,” he said, pointing dramatically. “But just wait.”

Operation: Catastrophic Success

Step one was—predictably—catnip.

You were wise to his games this time, narrowing your eyes at the sprig he dangled like a bribe.

“I’m not falling for it again.”

“Come on,” Shanks wheedled. “Just a sniff.”

“Nope.”

Shanks leaned in, holding it under your nose like a shady merchant. “High-quality, imported, no sticks.”

You hissed and batted it out of his hand.

Then you lunged and stuffed it in your shirt.

“…I said I wasn’t falling for it, not that I was above stealing it.”

Shanks blinked. “...Fair.”

Step Two: Fish Diplomacy

Shanks cooked. Personally.

The crew avoided the galley like it was on fire.

When you walked in, the smell of something vaguely edible reached your nose. Shanks stood with a crooked smile, apron inside out, face smudged with flour, and a suspiciously burnt fish in hand.

“For you.”

You sniffed it.

You stared.

“Did… did you use rum instead of oil?”

“I panicked!”

You padded over to Benn and took the jerky he always kept in his coat pocket.

Shanks’s soul left his body.

Step Three: Ultimate Snuggles

It happened completely by accident.

You were curled up on your usual sunspot near the helm, tail twitching softly as the Red Force cut through calm seas. You’d been lounging near Benn earlier, of course, but he’d gone to smoke and you felt… restless.

The sun was warm.

The wind was soft.

Shanks was lying in the hammock like a lounging idiot, one leg up, book on his face, softly snoring.

And for some reason, your legs just walked over. Your ears twitched. Your instincts went haywire.

And before you could even think, you leapt into the hammock like a heat-seeking missile and curled up on his chest.

Shanks woke with a loud OOF.

He froze.

He blinked up through his book… and found you, kneading his chest absentmindedly, eyes already half-lidded, clearly ready for a nap.

“Wha…”

“Shh,” you mumbled. “You’re warm. Good pillow.”

He nearly died on the spot.

She’s on me, he thought. She chose ME. Over Benn.

He let his arm slowly wrap around you like he was defusing a bomb. Then he just laid there, stiff as a board, trying not to breathe too loudly.

When Benn walked by and raised a brow, Shanks grinned like a victorious maniac.

“She came to me,” he mouthed.

Benn just puffed his cigar and said, “Try not to scare her off.”

“She’s purring,” Shanks whispered smugly. “She likes me now.”

“I give it five minutes before she sneezes and claws your face.”

Five Minutes Later

You sneezed violently.

Your claws came out.

“OH GOD MY NIPPLE.”

Later That Night

You sat on the railing, brushing your tail as the moonlight washed over the deck. Shanks sat nearby, nursing his dignity and some scratch marks under his shirt.

“…Still worth it,” he mumbled.

You side-eyed him. “You’re a masochist.”

“I like a challenge.”

You flicked his forehead with your tail. “You’re annoying.”

He grinned. “But you like me.”

“…No comment.”

You hopped off the rail and stretched. Then, casually, you flopped down and laid your head in his lap.

He froze again.

“…Are you trying to kill me with happiness?”

You yawned. “You’re comfy. Better than your fish, that’s for sure.”

He beamed.

“You like me more than Benn?”

“Don’t push it.”

“But—”

You shot him a glare. “I will go scratch his beard and nap in his bunk again.”

Shanks shut up real fast.

“…I’ll take the win.”

[risingoftime]

TWO STEP TRAP | SMOKE STACK TWINS X F!READER | TEASER

You are one of the best dancers at the Midnight Blues joint in Chicago; it was only a matter of time before you encountered the Smoke Stack Twins. Their names linger in the club like perfume and cigars. If you are in the scene, you know them… and of course, they knew you.

“A lady always has a choice,” he rebutted, voice like molasses slow drippin’ off a spoon.

“Who said I was a lady?” you challenged, chin tilted, and your cheeks filled with heat. Once it slipped out of your mouth, there was no snatching it back. You’ve always been reckless with the way words leap past your lips without permission. He didn’t as much as blink at your question, didn’t smirk either. Just stepped in closer, real close, until the scent of smoke, cologne, and something else curled in your nose again. His thigh rose between your legs, stopping just shy of making contact with your center, enough to make your breath catch in your throat. Dipping you down and pulling you back up in time with the strums of the guitar that played aloud. 

“Then I reckon I ain’t gotta treat you like one,” he murmured, voice pitched low and dangerous, his eyes never leaving yours. “But I do like a woman who talks back.” You swore your knees might buckle right there. “S’wrong? Cat’s got your tongue?” he joked to lighten the obvious tension that grew quickly between you two. You could hear your heartbeat over the hum of the blues and chatter that surrounded you. His thigh lingered, firm and deliberate, almost making you forget your own damn name. But you weren’t going to let him have the upper hand. Not entirely. 

Leaning in just a little, with parted lips and sharp eyes. “And what do they call you, stranger?” your voice came out strong and daring, like you weren’t already trying to keep your head on straight. 

He didn’t answer right away, dragging his gaze from your eyes to your lips, then down to the space between you that barely existed anymore. “They call me Stack,” he finally said, a slow smile beginning to curl at the corner of his mouth. “But you can call me Elias Moore.” He said it like a promise as he lowered his deep red fedora hat, his eyes never leaving yours. His name hung in the air, impossible to ignore. The kind of name a woman didn’t forget, even if she wanted to. The Elias Stack Moore stood before you, and being his girl could open up more doors for you than you could count. 

“Come on,” he drawled, his hand brushing the small of your back. “Dance floor’s gettin too damn crowded for what I got in mind.” You felt him guide you, firm but unhurried through he sea of moving bodies, past the haze of cigar smoke and spilled bourbon, nobody paid y’all any mind. Juke joints were built on secrets and sideways glances anyway.

The change room door creaked as he pushed it open with his shoulder. The low bulb above their heads was flickering, as if it knew what was coming. Inside, it smelled like lavender powder and dust. The old velvet curtains were draped over crates, hiding booze and our valuables. The crooked mirror watched us from its respective corners. He closed the door behind you with a click that felt louder than it was.

He leaned against it for a beat, arms crossed, watching you like he was still deciding whether to kiss you or ruin you slowly. “Now,” Stack’s voice dropped to a sinful hush, “where were we?”

a/n: POSTING TOMORROW!!! :)

[valeelavvale]

Devil

featuring : Lando Norris/reader

summary : (requested by @madelyn2000)

Lando is a big Manchester United Fan, y/n a Liverpool one and the meet each other at the match between your teams

genre : romance

word count : 1207

Work sucks. 

She couldn't think of anything else as she put on the uniform in the colors of the wrong team—the one she hated and rooted against every single time. 

Yet once again, she had to give in and accept that job in the VIP lounge of Manchester United, right during the match against Liverpool. 

Her team. 

She would be in enemy territory for the whole match, serving champagne to rich people who surely knew less about football than she did and who, in any case, supported the wrong team. 

She slipped on her shoes and looked at herself in the mirror. 

"Congrats, y/n, another great evening ahead," she muttered to herself, tying her hair back and leaving the locker room alongside the other waiters who would be working with her that night. 

The match hadn’t started yet, but there were already quite a few people there—former football legends, athletes of all kinds, wealthy people, entrepreneurs, lots of people with watches that probably cost as much as her house. 

About twenty minutes had passed since kickoff, and she was filling empty glasses with champagne right in front of the glass window overlooking the field when suddenly a roar erupted from the stands. 

**1-0** 

Liverpool had scored. 

"Hell yeah!" she said without even thinking. 

"Excuse me?" a voice sounded beside her. A guy was looking at her, amused, and she recognized him—she had seen him on TV dozens of times: Lando Norris, Formula 1 driver for McLaren. 

"Oops…" y/n said, unable to hide a face that was just a little too comical. 

"I can’t believe it—you’re a snitch!" he laughed, pointing at her. 

"Cut it out," she muttered, lowering her gaze; she didn’t want everyone in there to know. 

Lando chuckled, shaking his head. 

"A red in enemy territory. Well, anyway, that was a terrible goal—don't get used to celebrating. We’ll come back right away." 

"You’d like that…" she said, staring at him. "You guys suck with half your defense injured—unless, as usual, the referee forgets to call all your offsides…" she commented. 

"Says the one who gets penalties gifted for no reason," he shot back, taking a sip of champagne. 

"Let me remind you what happened in the first match—you guys butchered half of our midfield," she retorted stubbornly. 

Lando smiled—what a feisty one. 

"You weren’t here for the first match, though, or I’d remember you—I’d definitely remember you…" he said, looking at her. 

"No, I was there, where the real fun is," she said, pointing at the stands. 

"I know—it’s much more fun over there. But today, the sponsors trapped me here. I’d rather have beer than champagne, if I’m being honest."

"You don’t seem like someone who spends much time in the stands," she said. 

That guy definitely had a watch that cost as much as her house. 

"And how would you know?" he grinned. 

He was about to say something else when a man behind him called for him. He gave her a smile before turning around and shaking hands with very important people. 

-

Later that night, y/n had finished her shift and changed into jeans and her team’s t-shirt. She wanted to sit somewhere and eat something, but there weren’t many places she liked near the stadium. 

"Hey, Liverpool Girl."

A voice made her turn around. Next to a ridiculously expensive car stood Lando—the superstar driver she had exchanged a few words with earlier. 

He smiled and quickly crossed the street to reach her.

"What do you say we ditch the champagne and grab a beer?" he asked, smiling. 

She looked at him, surprised. He was Lando Norris, Formula 1 driver. She was y/n, dressed in jeans and faded Converse. 

She smiled. 

"Sounds great. And, by the way, my name’s y/n," she replied, amused. 

Who was she to turn down such an unexpected invitation? 

I mean, she didn’t know him, but he was famous—the chances of him being a serial killer who would hide her body were pretty low. 

She got in the car, and he started the engine. 

"There aren’t any good places near the stadium. Do you mind if I take you to my favorite pub?" he asked, turning right. 

"Sure, there's really nothing around here I like either," she admitted. 

"Did you enjoy the match?" she asked then, just to say something. 

"Are you asking if I’m mad at you for that foul that didn’t get called?" he grinned. "No, not really."*

Y/n laughed. 

"Keep believing it was a foul," she teased. "You’d better stick to driving because when it comes to football… You don’t seem to know much about it."

They kept exchanging witty remarks until Lando parked in front of a well-known pub. 

He got out and, like a true gentleman, opened the door for her. 

"I’m starving, by the way… Oysters, sushi, caviar… What a disgusting selection of food they had earlier," he commented as he walked in, signaling her to follow him to a table by the window. 

"That stuff creeps me out," y/n agreed. "And on top of that, a job where I can’t even take home the leftovers—working for the worst team in the world!" she laughed. 

"You know, the problem is that you’re ridiculously hot. Otherwise, with everything you say about the Devils, really…" he smiled, looking at her, and y/n couldn’t help but blush. Thankfully, pubs are dark. 

-

It was past three in the morning when they realized the pub had nearly emptied. 

"They’re going to kick us out soon," Lando grinned. 

The thing was, he didn’t want to go home. He had enjoyed talking to her—laughing, teasing each other—too much. It had been amazing. 

"There’s the race at Silverstone next week. Would you like to come?" he asked. 

If they left now and he drove her home, it wouldn’t be so easy to see her again—and he wanted to. 

"To watch the Grand Prix? At Silverstone?" she asked, surprised. 

"Yeah… Of course, you’ll have to give me your number so I can get you the paddock passes," he said with a smirk. 

Y/n tilted her head. 

"Giving you my number just to get a pass for an F1 race… It’s worth it—but only for that, not because I actually want to see a Devil like you again…" she joked, taking his phone and typing in her number. 

"I don’t know if I’ll root for you, though…" she teased. "I have too much fun disagreeing with you."

Lando burst out laughing. 

"Whatever, just come… And don’t get too friendly with the other drivers."

"Oh, no? And why’s that?" y/n laughed. 

He leaned in across the table. 

"Because, trust me, there’s no one more devilish than me," he whispered. 

"We’ll see…" she smiled, holding his gaze. 

Maybe she’d overlook the fact that he supported Manchester United, after all. 

[spencerrsmopbucket]

Fatal Attraction (2) | Paul Lahote

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Reader Summary: After being imprinted on by the Pack's most furious member, you aren't quite sure how to feel — should you be ignoring the pull of fate? Or should you give in to it?

Part 3

Your fingers thread through the e/c strands of your hair, braiding it intricately and tightly. It was a hazy afternoon — only white light coming through the trees, the sun hiding behind thick clouds.

Training again today. The attempt at training yesterday was pathetic. It didn’t help, though, that your world had been quickly and rapidly turned right around. You didn’t even know what had just happened to you was possible.

A werewolf imprinting on a vampire. A vampire mating to a werewolf. It was unheard of. You’d consulted Carlisle immediately after yesterday’s training session, trying to see the history on it or if it could somehow be broken. Of course, to your luck, he’d told you: “Little is known about it. It’s only happened one other time in thousands of years, Name. I’m sorry.”

The worst part was that the Cullens’ genuinely looked as if they pitied you.

Mating was supposed to be a happy thing, something to celebrate. Something to ease the pain of being alone for years. For you, though, it wouldn’t be. It would be confusing, difficult to navigate, and absolutely grotesque. You had been conditioned to hate werewolves from the moment you were created — and here you were, eternally bound to one.

Edward’s reaction was hard to tell. In his topaz eyes, you saw a brief flicker of pain that he didn’t deserve to express. Then, you saw the pity previously mentioned. Then, you saw the typical brood. And finally, you saw his kindness. Selflessness that he always had. He’d do anything to help you through it and you knew it. You just refused to confide in him.

You smelled them. The wolves. They penetrated the sugary, sweet scent of you and the other Cullens', the cracking and thumping through the forest making it obvious who'd arrived. They definitely weren't creatures of subtlety.

As if you were the one that summoned them, you felt various pairs of eyes on you, trying to see how you'd react. You knew Rosalie, your closest friend for decades, expected you to react. She expected you to lash out and set a wolf on fire. But to be honest, you weren't sure how to feel about it.

You weren't angry. It was fate — the wolf, Paul, hadn't chosen it either. It was evident in the way he bounded through the thick tree line in absolute rage. He was angry, but you knew through things you'd heard about him from his pack, it wasn't hard to spark him. He was temperamental, gruff, rough around the edges. But he was light-hearted too, fun, playful. They'd given you a list of pros and cons to Paul that you hadn't even asked for — they being Seth Clearwater and Embry Call.

You opted to disengage, not fully acknowledging the wolves. Their arrival meant it was time to train, time to prepare for a newborn army. You weren't going to be slaughtered on a battlefield because you were too busy acting like a nervous schoolgirl who's crush approached her. When everyone settled into the clearing, Jasper finally spoke.

Jasper stepped forward, his posture as stiff and calculated as ever, eyes sweeping over both the vampires and wolves. His voice was even, but there was a layer of tension there, a quiet storm brewing beneath the surface. “We’re going to start with defensive maneuvers,” he announced, his Southern drawl thicker today than usual. “You're going to face off against someone — someone with speed, someone with strength. You’ll rotate. You’ll adjust.”

He paused briefly, glancing at you for a moment, then at the wolves, eyes lingering just a touch longer on the one still pacing at the edge of the tree line — Paul.

Paul hadn’t shifted back yet. He prowled just outside the clearing, fur bristling, shoulders tense. His wolf form was massive and beautiful in a wild, untamed way — but he didn’t dare come closer. Not yet. Not after what happened.

Embry stood at the front of the Pack, already in human form, arms crossed, trying to be casual. “He’ll join when he’s ready,” he muttered, referring to Paul without being asked, eyes flicking toward you like he was watching for a reaction.

You gave none.

Your golden eyes were focused as the others were put into pairs. Edward with Carlisle, Rosalie with Emmett, Alice with Esme, and you with Jasper. The wolves would be incorporated afterwards.

Edward and Carlisle would begin first.

The clearing quieted as Jasper gave a short nod toward Edward and Carlisle. “Let’s see it,” he said simply. The two moved like streaks of light—Carlisle fluid and composed, Edward sharp and fast. Their blows never landed with force, only precision, pulling back just before they could bruise or break. It was a dance more than a fight, all control and instinct. You watched with arms crossed, jaw tight.

You weren’t watching their technique, though. You were watching him — the wolf in the woods. Paul.

He had stopped pacing.

The moment Edward lunged, a blur of motion, Paul’s gaze snapped toward you. Your eyes met for the first time since yesterday.

It hit you in the chest.

Heat. Tension. Like a string stretched to the point of breaking.

Paul’s lip curled slightly, though you couldn’t tell if it was a snarl or a grimace. Then, without a sound, he turned and slipped back into the trees for a moment. Then, he came back. The same Paul you'd first seen yesterday — tall, threaded with thick muscle and russet skin, dark, wild cropped hair, and intense brown eyes.

He stood at the edge of the clearing, human again but somehow more dangerous like this — more real. There was a rawness to him, like a live wire sparking just beneath the surface. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, jaw clenched, eyes locked on you as if the rest of the world had blurred out of existence.

You didn’t flinch.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

You could feel every set of eyes shift between the two of you — the Cullens catching the shift in air pressure, the Pack stiffening at Paul’s reappearance. Even Jasper paused mid-instruction, picking up on the tension bleeding from your pores like static.

Paul said nothing. Just stood there, fists flexing at his sides, looking at you like you were the moon and he wasn’t quite sure whether to worship it or curse it.

Embry muttered something under his breath. You caught just the end of it: “Shit.”

Rosalie was glaring.

Edward… looked pained. But silent.

And you?

You didn’t know what to do. The heat that churned in your chest wasn’t just confusion anymore. It was pull. It was gravity. It was a battle between instinct and hatred, fate and fire, and you didn’t know which would win.

Paul stepped forward.

Just one step.

And even that was too much.

Jasper’s hand came down gently on your arm, grounding. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t answer.

Because Paul’s gaze was still locked on you — not pleading, not soft. Just burning. Like he didn’t want this. Like it scared him. Like he hated it just as much as you did.

You shook your head, finally registering Jasper's words, and readjusted your braid.

"I'm fine, Jas. C'mon. It's our turn, right?" You asked, smiling half-heartedly.

Jasper didn’t press you. He never did. He just nodded, his expression unreadable but his hand lingering half a second longer than necessary on your arm before letting go. His instincts were sharper than most — he could feel what you weren’t saying.

“Alright,” he said quietly, stepping back to take his position in the clearing. “Let’s show them how it’s done.”

You followed him, forcing yourself to ignore the weight of the stare still burning into your back. Your movements were fluid, automatic, every inch of you honed for battle — and yet, that heat in your chest remained. Like you were being tugged backward by an invisible string.

But you didn’t look back.

Not yet.

Jasper circled you slowly, eyes calculating. “They need to see how a newborn thinks,” he said loud enough for the group to hear. “You play the threat. Come at me with everything you’ve got. No fire though, sunshine.”

That, at least, was easy. You could focus on that. You could be the monster they needed you to be. Better than thinking about him.

You let your eyes darken, your expression shift, and lunged.

Jasper ducked, your body flying above him, fingernails just grazing his shoulder in an attempt to grab him. You’d been close, close enough that you could feel his emotion. Focused. Grunting, you braced yourself, knees landing softly in the dirt as you bounded back up.

“Lucky.” You snickered. You were a seasoned fighter, having worked with newborns before in your life too. You and Jasper had almost the same level of experience.

You were just too good at mirroring the mannerisms of a newborn. An outsider would’ve thought you were one.

Feeling his movement through the air, you swung an arm, the swipe once again just narrowly missing him. You knew there were eyes on you — everyone’s were. That’s how it was intended to be. This was a lesson.

You felt air whoosh as Jasper ducked under your movement again, rolling to the side and springing back up with that calm, soldier’s precision only he could master. You chased him like lightning, your lips pulled back in a grin that was all teeth — calculated menace for the sake of performance.

"Come on, Major," you taunted. "You going soft on me?"

Jasper didn’t answer, but you felt the flicker of amusement pass through him — barely there, like a shadow of a smile. He was in his element. So were you.

You spun, landing a fake blow to his side that he dodged at the last second, your hands digging into the dirt for stability. You kicked off it, body twisting through the air, an acrobatic move you knew a real newborn wouldn't have even attempted.

Around the clearing, everyone had stopped whispering. The wolves were still — even Emmett, who usually couldn’t keep his commentary to himself during training, had gone quiet.

Because you were good.

And because of what you were doing it with on your back.

Paul.

Even now, you could feel him. Not just his stare — the imprint. The bond. Like something tied to the marrow of your bones. Every time you twisted or turned, every time your heart beat (even though it didn’t need to), he felt it. You knew he did. And somehow, it felt like he was holding his breath for each move you made, just waiting for one misstep.

Jasper landed lightly a few feet away, brushing dust off his shirt and calling, “That’s enough.”

You nodded, wiping the dirt from your knees too.

"That, ladies and gentleman," Jasper said, using the spar as a teaching moment, "is what you'll see when facing a newborn vampire. Unparalleled, feral, only wanting one thing. To kill you."

His words lingered in the humid air, weighted and sharp. You straightened fully, adjusting the sleeves of your dark jacket, your gaze flicking toward the wolves now standing closer than they had before. You could feel the shift in the atmosphere — the unease, the tension, the awe.

"That’s what we’re up against," Jasper continued, eyes sweeping across the group. "They won’t hesitate. Neither should you."

Embry let out a low whistle, breaking the tension just slightly. “Remind me not to piss her off.”

That earned a quiet snort from Rosalie.

You turned — slowly, deliberately — and met Paul’s eyes again.

Something shifted.

He stepped forward, just once. It was cautious, rigid. Like he didn’t trust himself. Or you. Or the thing tethered between you.

But then, someone else moved — Jacob, approaching the edge of the circle. “We should take a turn now,” he said, trying to keep things moving.

Jasper gave you a nod, a silent gesture of thanks, then moved to begin the next demonstration with Rosalie and Emmett stepping into the ring.

But even as others took your place, and the sounds of sparring filled the forest again, the weight of him never left your shoulders.

Later into the training session, after Rosalie and Emmett's spar, it was time to involve the wolves. Give them an opponent tough enough to teach with. Jasper was nice to you, giving you someone other than Paul to work with.

You were given Jacob, of course. The two of you matched — headstrong, not afraid to strike. You were tasked with teaching him how to defend himself from a truly volatile threat.

Jasper instructed swiftly, as if he was made to lead.

"Once again, nothing fiery," He told you, nodding his head forward. "Show Jacob how it's done. Then, the rest of them will pair up."

Jacob phased easily, the cracking of bone and a slight grunt giving way to a huge wolf. Nothing you hadn't seen before, but slightly bigger than the ones you'd seen. He had thick brown fur with traces of black, deep eyes, and a cocky snarl on his dripping teeth.

You arched a brow, arms still at your sides, body loose but deadly. Jacob was already in position, massive and looming — an eager challenger. You’d heard stories of his boldness, his talent, his drive to be the best. It showed in the way he stood, tail high, muscles coiled like springs.

You weren’t going to make it easy for him.

“Ready when you are,” you called out coolly, voice echoing across the clearing.

Jasper gave a signal.

Jacob lunged.

You sidestepped — fast — the world blurring for a moment. He was powerful, no doubt, but unrefined in his technique. His head snapped in your direction too late to stop your hand from colliding sharply with his shoulder. Not hard enough to damage — just enough to make a point.

The Pack let out low growls and huffs in response, a few of the younger wolves shifting restlessly. Leah, in her usual biting tone, muttered, “Cocky idiot’s gonna get himself knocked flat.”

You heard her. So did he.

Jacob turned, more calculated this time. He charged again, but now he was trying to predict you. His paws dug into the dirt, but you caught him off guard with a spin and a sweep, the back of your hand grazing his snout just enough to send him skidding sideways.

Jasper called again, “Keep control of your weight, Jacob! Don’t overcommit unless you’re sure.”

You exhaled slowly, already walking backward to reset your position.

"Focus, dog. Less on striking me, more on defending yourself. Use my ferality against me." You snap, lunging forward again.

He let out a huff through his nose — half annoyance, half amusement — and braced himself. You weren’t giving him an inch, and he was finally starting to take it seriously. Good. You needed him to. This wasn’t a game. This wasn’t schoolyard brawling. It was survival.

Your body blurred forward, fangs just slightly bared in a snarl. Jacob ducked, finally reacting with the kind of precision Jasper had wanted from the start. He shifted his weight, tried to knock you off balance with a low swipe of his big build. You leapt over it cleanly, twisting in the air and landing light on your feet behind him, your hand brushing his spine — a kill shot, if you’d wanted it to be.

"Again. But better." You snort.

Finally, it seemed as if Jacob had locked in.

Your fangs were bared, a snarl leaving your clenched teeth as you flipped backwards, lunging for him again. This time, you didn't even make contact with fur. He wasn't anywhere you'd expected him to be.

In fact, he was in front of you.

You felt his sharp set of teeth graze your wrist as you attempted to pull back, golden eyes wide and impressed. But before you could react, you heard the commotion.

A snarl. Bounding feet, the sound of massive dogs fighting.

Paul had phased — and was clearly not happy that Jacob had managed to get teeth on his imprint.

The sound was instant, violent, claws tearing against the forest floor, an enraged snarl splitting the air like a thunderclap.

“PAUL!” someone shouted — Sam — but it didn’t matter. The damage was done.

He was already on Jacob.

They collided mid-air, a blur of russet and brown fur, jaws snapping, limbs crashing. The ground shook beneath them as they rolled, snarling and slamming into trees, leaves and debris bursting into the air like shrapnel. Paul was pure fury, unhinged and explosive, snapping toward Jacob's throat without hesitation. Jacob fought back, instinct kicking in, but it was clear — this wasn’t training anymore.

He couldn’t stand down. Not when your scent was still on Jacob’s teeth. Not when he could still feel the brush of your pain through the imprint like it was his own.

Jasper appeared at your side in an instant, a cold hand shooting out across your chest to stop you. “Let Sam handle him.”

“No.” Your eyes were glowing now, bright gold. Dangerous. “He’s not going to stop. Not unless I stop him.”

The wolves were active now, circling — Embry and Quil, snarling low and unsure, Seth whining anxiously, Leah pacing with her hackles raised. It was only a matter of time before someone got hurt. For real.

You stepped forward. “Paul,” you said, addressing him for the first time. Controlled. “It’s me.”

And like something in him recognized the weight of your voice — not your power, but you — his head snapped around.

Your breath caught.

His eyes were still wild, glowing with something deeper than rage — something primal, ancient. Not just fury.

He stilled under your gaze, heavy chest rising and falling in sharp bursts. His lip curled, torn between instinct and obedience, but the recognition in his eyes was clearer now. It was you. You.

Slowly — reluctantly — Paul backed away from Jacob’s downed form, his massive wolf body quivering with the effort to hold himself together. He turned, muscles twitching, and bolted into the trees, fur flashing like firelight through the branches.

You exhaled sharply, only now realizing how tightly you’d been holding yourself. He was running away. Yet again. The coward was running.

Or so you thought.

He stepped out. Human. Shirtless, bleeding from his shoulder. His chest was still heaving, his fists clenched like he was fighting ghosts under his skin. His jaw was tight — clenched hard enough to crack. He didn’t look at anyone but you.

“You think I wanted to do that?” he asked, voice low, raw. “You think I don’t hate this too?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came.

He took a step closer. “You got hurt. I felt it. What the hell was I supposed to do, just stand there while he put teeth on you?”

You didn’t flinch. Not from his volume. Not from the pain in his tone.

“I’m fine,” you said evenly. “It wasn’t even a bite. It was training. Jasper’s training.”

Paul scoffed, dragging a hand through his hair. “You don’t get it. It’s not about logic. It’s not about who’s in charge or what this was supposed to be.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, burning.

“It’s you. I can’t — I can’t not react when it’s you.”

Your eyes softened. You didn't want them to, but they did.

And he saw it — the shift in your eyes. The subtle drop of your shoulders. The hesitation in your breath that betrayed you before your mouth could catch up.

Paul stepped forward again, slower this time, like he was testing the ground beneath him. “You think I like this?” he asked, quieter now. “Being this… out of control? Every time you’re in the same damn field as someone else, it’s like something in me breaks.”

You stayed silent.

“I’m not asking you to feel the same,” he added, voice barely above a whisper now. “I know you didn’t want this. I know the bond… it scares you. It terrifies me. It's wrong. But don’t act like you don’t feel it too.”

The truth hung heavy between you. You did. You felt it in the way your hands trembled after every sparring match. In the way your eyes always found him in a crowd. In the ache that started in your chest and ended in your bones whenever he looked at you like that — like he’d go to war for you without blinking.

You swallowed hard, your voice low. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Paul nodded. “No. But it did.”

Another beat passed — tight, breathless.

“And I don’t know how to turn it off,” he added, voice nearly breaking. “Not when it’s you.”

You nodded, swallowing harshly, though you didn't need to. Grabbing your discarded jacket from the grass, you sped off. If they could, frustrated tears would've filled your golden eyes.

You fucking hated this.

Finding a clearing, you stopped there. Rage boiled through your body as you let a groan tumble from your lips. You roughly shoved a tree, watching it fall, breaking all of the trees around it in the process. You then plopped down on the dirt, putting your face in your arms.

Why did this happen to you, of all people? Hadn't you paid your dues? You gave up the love of your life, just to be eternally tied to something you hated.

"Sulking. I always hated when you sulked." You heard behind you. You sighed, a bittersweet smile curving onto your lips. Of course, he had followed you.

He always did know how to manage you best.

Edward.

"Go away." You muttered into your arms, trying to hide the way your voice trembled.

But instead of leaving, he crouched down beside you, his cool hand brushing against your shoulder in an oddly gentle motion. "I can't do that," he said softly, his voice low and calm. "You know that."

You didn’t respond. You didn’t have the energy for a fight, not when everything inside you felt like it was about to burst. You felt like a raw wound, and the last thing you wanted was for him to see it. But he always saw right through you. Always had.

There was a long pause, and when he spoke again, it wasn’t with the usual teasing or authority you were used to.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself." His voice was quieter this time, almost hesitant, as if he was tiptoeing around something fragile — which, you supposed, was exactly what you were in that moment.

You shook your head, the ache in your chest growing heavier with every word. "You don’t get it. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask to be in the middle of a mess that I can’t fix. I didn’t ask to feel like I’m trapped between wanting something I can’t have and something I’ll never be free from."

Edward let out a slow breath, his cool fingers gently lifting your face so that you were forced to look him in the eye. "I understand more than you think," he said softly, his gaze steady, unwavering. "And I’m not here to fix everything for you. I can’t. But I can listen."

The truth in his words stung, not because they weren’t what you wanted to hear, but because they were everything you needed.

"I didn’t want this," you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "I didn’t want to be bound to him. I didn’t want to feel like I’m falling apart every time I see him, every time he gets close."

Edward’s expression softened, and for a long moment, he just looked at you — not with judgment, not with pity, but with a kind of understanding that only he could offer. "I know," he murmured. "But you don’t have to go through it alone."

You couldn’t stop the bitter laugh that escaped your lips. "It doesn’t matter, Edward. I’ve been alone for so long, I don’t even know how to not be. And this bond... it’s like a prison I didn’t even sign up for."

His eyes darkened slightly, but his grip on your chin didn’t loosen. "You’re not alone. Not with me. You may feel trapped, but you don’t have to be."

There was a sincerity in his voice that caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected it from him — not with everything that had happened between the two of you. But maybe, deep down, you had always known that despite the tension and distance, he would never leave you stranded.

"I don’t know how to deal with this... with him," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Edward’s gaze softened even more, and his thumb brushed across your jaw. "I know. And I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. But you don’t have to fix it all at once."

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt the weight on your shoulders ease, just a little. "I hate that you’re right about everything," you muttered, dropping your gaze.

He chuckled, though there was no humor in it. "I’ve heard that before."

You shook your head, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at your lips. "You always know what to say."

"That’s because I’ve been where you are," he replied, his voice quieter now. "I know what it’s like to feel like you're drowning in something you can’t control. But you have to let go of the idea that you can fix everything by yourself."

You swallowed hard, taking in his words. You weren’t sure if you could let go, but for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel as if you had to carry it all on your own.

"Thanks," you murmured, voice small.

Edward smiled, a rare, soft smile that didn’t reach his usual teasing or self-assuredness. "You don't have to thank me. Just don't keep pushing everyone away. Not this time."

You nodded, but the lump in your throat didn’t disappear.

He stood, offering you a hand. "You ready to go back?"

You hesitated, glancing up at him. For the first time since the chaos started, you didn’t feel like running. "Yeah. I think I am."

You were able to return to the clearing, critiquing the Cullen family and the wolves on defense tactics. The heavy stare never stopped, though.. but oddly, as moments passed, it started to feel less and less uncomfortable.

[zznblr]

exes and ohs 𐙚 c.yj

chapter twelve: dinner with friends

written • 1133 words

july 22nd 2025, 6:13pm

the booth creaks softly as four bodies shift in small, polite discomfort. yeji seats across from you, posture perfect. her long hair is tucked behind one ear, revealing a small gold hoop. you sit with your hands in your lap. yeonjun’s thigh is warm against yours.

soobin is the last to sit, sliding beside yeji. his fingers trace lazy circles on the back of yeji’s hand. the silence between the four of you is thick. the only sounds are the clink of plates, the hush of the ceiling fan, and the quiet strain of instrumental jazz.

the waiter comes to the table. he sets down four menus in front of you. this gives everyone an excuse to pretend to look busy.

soobin is the first to break the spell. he lowers his menu, propping his elbows on the table as he smiles. “i’m glad we get to do this.”

yeji turns her head towards him and smiles. she threads her fingers with his and gives his hand a soft squeeze. her bracelets shift with a light jingle.

yeonjun lets out a low hum. “yup.”

soobin’s eyes shift across the table and land on you. “yn, how are you?”

it catches you off guard. “i’m good,” you answer quietly.

“i wanted to apologize,” soobin continues. “that we didn’t get to speak on sunday night.”

you nod. “it’s all good. i was, um…” you glance down at the table, eyes tracking a water ring that is fading into the wood. “i was tired anyway.”

the waiter returns to take your orders.

when he leans, yeji leans forward. “i’m so curious: how did you guys meet?”

“we’re neighbors.” yeonjun answers too quickly.

“i’ve lived in that building for a while and he moved in, like, last year?” you tilt your head towards him. he nods to confirm. “and we hung out a little and became friends and… here we are.” you reach for his hand, squeezing it lightly before leaning your head toward his shoulder.

yeonjun kisses the crown of your head.

the group falls into a silence again.the waiter reappears like clockwork, delivering everyone’s drink orders.

you glance across the table, then back to your drink. “how do you guys feel?” you ask. “about the wedding? are you nervous?”

sooobin is the first to answer. “i honestly feel fine.” he says, reaching for his glass. “like… calm?”

yeji nods. “i’m usually neurotic about planning.” she adds. “but wedding planning has been surprisingly easy.”

“that’s good.” you say. yeonjun takes a long sip of his drink beside you.

“have you guys thought about marriage?”

you laugh. “god, no.” the words spill from your lips before you realize what you said. yeji and soobin exchange a look. then they both glance back at you. you straighten up. “i mean– we’re not thinking about that right now.”

“we’re just enjoying getting to know each other.” yeonjun adds. you think it’s the first time he’s spoken an entire sentence all evening.

“i didn’t think you were the marriage type.” yeji’s face scrunches as she scrutinizes yeonjun.

you tilt your head. “him?”

“yes,” she continues.

you raise an eyebrow. “you must have the wrong guy.” you laugh. “he literally cries every time we watch the wedding scene in mamma mia.”

yeonun mumbles beside you. “i told you there was something in my eyes.”

“that excuse only works after the first time.”

july 22nd 2025, 9:30pm

you are not sure what exactly did it, but everyone quickly became comfortable. somewhere between the second drink and your third comment about yeonjun (partially to get him back for all the lying he had been doing) all the ice had finally melted and the conversation was flowing. even yeonjun had not snapped back one. through out the dinner, you watched him closely. everytime the table laughed, he would lean back, crossing his arms. but, you could have sworn you saw him smiling, or at least trying to hide his smile.

after dinner, soobin excuses himself from the table. he slips out of the booth and disappears into the bathroom. yeji watches him go and then reaches for the last sip of her wine.

the room spins slightly when you blink. the two and a half glasses of wine you’ve had is starting to get to your head. absentmindedly, you lean into yeonjun, resting your head on his shoulder. your eyes flutter shut for a moment. yeonjun instinctively moves his arm around your back.

“you guys are really so cute,” you hear yeji say. “i’m happy for you.”

yeonjun scoffs. “thanks.”

“i’m serious.” she shifts in her seat. her bracelets clink softly as she rests her elbows on the table. “i am so happy for you.”

he exhales through his nose. “i guess i’m happy for you too.”

“you guess?”

yeonjun chuckles. “i mean, i am happy for you too, yeji.”

“i meant what i said on sunday.” her voice is quieter now. “i’m very sorry that everything happened like that.”

yeonjun doesn’t move. “i don’t need an apology from you,” he says finally.

“then what do you need?” her voice is still soft. “because he really wanted you to be here, and i feel like since you got here, you have been treating him like shit.

“just because i don’t have magical amnesia, i’m treating him like shit?”

“he’s trying.”

yeonjun’s hand rises to his face. he pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and sighs. “you are the last person i want to talk to about this, yeji.”

her mouth tightens. “i’m just saying you could try too.”

and then, as if summoned by the tension, soobin reappears. he slides into the booth beside her with a smile. “miss me?” he asks playfully, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

yeonjun clears his throat.

soobin glances between his brother and his fiancee. “are you guys ready to go?”

yeonjun nods. he shifts beside you, nudging your thigh gently. “ready?” he murmurs/

you blink, your eyes slow to open and nod. he takes your hand and helps you out of the booth. your legs wobble slightly and your grip his arm.

the two of you trail behind yeji and soobin, who are walking ahead, laughing again. you try to match their pace but give up halfway through the attempt because if you walk faster, you worry that you might vomit all over the poolside.

yeonjun slows with you. “are you okay?” he asks after you stumble a bit.

you pause, nodding. “i’m good.” you take a deep breath and try to recenter yourself. the two of you keep walking. you notice yeonjun’s jaw tense as he looks ahead at the couple in front of you.

“are you okay?” you ask him now.

“i’m fine.”

previous masterlist next ʚ♡⃛ɞ his ex is getting married to his brother. he’s totally okay with it. he’s very happy for them. of course, he’s going to the wedding. and he definitely did not pay his next door neighbor five hundred dollars to be his plus one at their destination wedding.

taglist [closed]: @beomgyusluver @yeovnjin @mari-18s-world @usuallyunlikelyfox @iluvjjunie @boba-beom @beaabz @yezznn @lovesickchoi @taysfairies @kagtobis @ohmahgods @bunniwords @tkooooop @20-cms

[z0mbbiegvrl]

stan’s gang (singular but idk if you do that already) x fem reader for prom headcanons? 💐

✮⋆˙ MAIN FOUR WITH FEM!S/O PROM HEADCANNONS

↳ an: just in time for prom season!! hope you enjoy this! i'm only going to prom just for the pics and so i can wear a hairspray roach dress. also butters is the best wingman in this. Was gonna post this tomorrow morning but nope!! Yall deserve a post today!!

↳ cw: slight suggestive material

↳ mlist

: ̗̀➛ ★ STAN MARSH

Okay Stan, Stan is the most lowkey about the promposal thing but dont worry, he’s not going to ask you out over text or the phone (he considered it) 

So, he invites you over to his house on a night when his parents are out, his sister is off with her friends. He made sure there would be no distractions. Decorates his bedroom with [YOUR FAVORITE COLOR] balloons, party streamers, and flowers. He also gets you [YOUR FAVORITE SNACKS/CANDY/DRINKS] and puts them in a basket with a teddy bear in it.

He cleaned his room before this, and when you said you’d be leaving your house soon, he quickly got himself looking nice and waited for your arrival.

Once you got to his house and up to his room, he was very nervous as you looked around his room with a smile. You then reached the basket, reading the small heart the teddy bear was holding. You turned to face him and gave him your answer, hugging him, which took a huge weight off his shoulders.

After that, he then remembered why he picked a night he’d be home alone, and you two didn’t do much talking for the rest of the night. 

On prom night, he’s all dressed and ready. Just waiting for his mom and Shelly to get done dressing you up. While he waits, Randy for sure gives him some bad advice on not being stupid and becoming parents that night. 

When you finally come downstairs, Stan fights every urge in his body to not puke on the spot. Just seeing you dressed so differently compared to what he’s used to, he’s starstruck.

Sharon forces you two to take photos, basic poses. Stan behind you, hands on your waist and smiling at the camera. Another one with you kissing Stan on the cheek, Stan’s face in the photo is bright red.

At the prom, he lets you go see your friends first, taking this time to go see his friends. 

Despite what you might think, Stan actually will dance with you on the dance floor outside of a slow dance. Just take a little begging and he’ll cave. Smiling as he spins you around.

Slow dancing with different for him, yeah, there are some nights at your place or his where you two just randomly slow dance. But now it’s a moment of ‘wow’ for him. You like him. Like Really. The whole dance, he’ll hold you close and hide his face in your hair to ground himself. Once the dance is over, he’ll excuse himself to go to the bathroom, because did we expect him to keep it down for that long? He’s not Superman. 

After prom is over, he’ll go back to his house, and the two of you will just get unready together and spend the night eating leftovers, putting up a fort in his bedroom to watch movies until you two fall asleep, holding each other. 

: ̗̀➛ ★ KYLE BROFLOVSKI

Kyle has everything planned out for your promposal, he wants it to be perfect for you since he not so subtly has been eavesdropping on your conversations with your friends regarding prom.

Shelia invites you out to dinner with his family somewhere very fancy. You’re not a stranger to being invited to family dinners. After Sheila realizes just how much you love her son, she starts to invite you for dinner even if Kyle is out at practice or with his friends.

The dinner went by very smoothly. The first time you were taken to dinner without Kyle was weird, but now you were used to it. Chatting with Sheila about some school drama she was invested in, listening to Gerald talk about the weird case he has at work, and Ike’s hockey game. 

Kyle finally joins the dinner, talking about how practice ran late, a small kiss on the head for you, and then the dinner carries on.

When everyone’s done eating, a waiter comes by with a small white plate, placing it in front of you. You’re a second away from saying you didn’t order this before you notice Sheila is filming and you glance down to see red icing around [DESSERT OF CHOICE], asking you out to prom. 

Kyle is a nervous wreck when he sees you looking a the plate, before he sees the smile and then gets the answer he was hoping for.

On the night of the prom, you and Wendy get ready at Bebe’s house. Clyde’s parents got a limo for him and Bebe, so Bebe invited her two best friends and their dates for the night.

Everyone goes to some fancy restaurant in the city that Clyde’s father picked out. The whole time, Kyle was infatuated with just how amazing you looked. Took some cute selfies and silly ones for you to post later. 

At the prom, Kyle is a little nervous to full-on dance with you to faster-paced songs; he will be okay with watching you and your friends dance while he guards your drink and bag. 

When a slow dance comes on, Kyle will ask for your hand and dance with you. Will whisper sweet nothings in your ear. Kyle is so respectful of where he puts his hands and so technical, you would think he could be a ballroom dancer. 

None of you cared about the king or queen voting, mostly because Kyle pulled you out of the building before it happened to have a moment with you away from the chaos inside the building.

He takes this moment to thank you for being with him, he gets super sentimental, but rushes through what he was saying; after being together for a while, you never fail to make him nervous. 

As cliché as it is, the snow falls around the two of you when Kyle pulls you in for one final dance and a kiss to finish the night. 

: ̗̀➛ ★ KENNY MCCORMICK

Of course, you and Kenny are going to the prom. A night where he gets to see you all dressed up and you’re his to show off. Kenny. Is. There.

Kenny’s Promposal for you is one of those funny medieval ones you see online, like Butters is at your front door reading a note in his little Paddlin costume with a accent while Kenny, Stan, Eric, and Kyle are walking onto your front lawn. Kenny is on a chair dressed in his princess outfit, holding flowers that are stolen, and the other three are trying not to drop him before they place the chair in front of you so Kenny can finally ask if you will join him at prom. After you say yes, as planned, everyone cheers, Kenny kisses your cheek, and then they carry him away. 

For the night of the prom, Kenny, with the help of his sister Karen, sets up your dining table all fancy while you’re out with one of your parents getting ready for prom. They made it look all fancy, mood lights, fancy-shaped napkins, and a home-cooked meal of spaghetti. 

When you get back home, Kenny’s there waiting for you, dressed in a suit, all nicely put together with an excited smile when he finally gets to see how you’re dressed. He pulls out all the stops, pulling your chair out, pushing it in, serving you your meal, hell, he’s even wiping your face for you.

Will ask to do the Lady and the Tramp a noodle, and of course, you do it. (Karen takes a photo)

At the prom, Kenny ABUSES the photoshoot area. He will force you to pose with him for everything. Even in the small photobooth, he’s dragging you in there for pictures he can carry around in his wallet. Takes one as he kisses you very roughly, then another with your lipstick if you wear it smeared on his face.

You two danced the whole night, you don’t even think you two have sat down once since the moment you got there. 

You two didn’t win prom queen or king, losing to Bebe and Clyde, but it was okay. Kenny didn’t care much for that, plus, he already sees you as his queen, so you don’t even need the crown.

After the night is over, Kenny decides to take you to Starks Pond. Parking in the middle of the park, ignoring the no-parking sign. He helps you out of his truck, leading you to the back of the truck, which has blankets everywhere. There you two lay and stargaze, coming off from the buzz of being excited and dancing around.

Whatever happens that night, happens ;)

: ̗̀➛ ★ ERIC CARTMAN

Prom is definitely in the cards for you and Eric.

Eric plans this big promposal for you, is it out of spite because he wants to outdo what Kyle did for his S/O…maybe.

He plans this elaborate prom proposal during halftime at the next basketball game. He assigns Butters to get you to where he needs you to stand, and Kenny to play the music/lighting and all that. 

Once you get there, Eric begins this whole song segment (yes, I’m going this route) while holding a sign that says something super cheesy that he thought was cool enough to have. 

And of course, you’re surprised because he kept this under wraps better than he keeps most things he’s not supposed to tell you. So you say yes, and Eric will overplay his emotions because it’s Eric, but once you two are alone, he’s super happy you said yes.

OKAY, now for the actual prom day. His mom picks you up from your house, and Eric is in the backseat. He says this is his version of a limo ride. Liane didn’t want to get a limo, so they had to unwillingly compromise. 

You guys go to Casa Bonita for your prom dinner (this is where the Limo money went); Liane takes an embarrassing amount of photos of you two in front of the building and then throughout the dinner.

Eric, every once in a while, will whine about wanting to go do things instead of taking photos, but Liane shoves it off. She’s just excited to see her poopsiekins all grown up. You two remind her of her prom night, so she wants to document this moment. 

You two almost end up late to the prom because Eric didn’t want to leave the as he calls it, “The Disney Land of Mexican Food”. As Liane is about to drive away, she gives Eric a condom just in case. Eric wanted to die on the spot. 

Once at the prom, you go join your friends wherever they are in the building the school rented for the night. Just showing off outfits and whatnot.  Eric is doing the same, but mostly just bragging about how he has the hottest girl and showing you off.

Of course, you two share a slow dance. He’s not terrible at it, sure, he stepped on your toe a couple of times, but that’s the charm of a prom dance.

The night comes to an end, and you win Prom Queen, WOO, everyone is happy for you until the reveal of prom king happens, and it’s not Eric.

He gets super disappointed, even more so when the prom king and queen pictures have to be taken. 

Dude is standing behind the camera, sulking like a child, practically stomping his feet.

Of course, you feel bad for him, so as a joke, you two head to Burger King and get him a kid’s crown.

You took a photo of both of you while Liane drove you guys home, it’s you still wearing your crown, kissing his cheek, his face bright red. 

Eric keeps that photo in his wallet. 

[whitechocolate355]

full court press

part - 4

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd (pazzi)

word count - 4.5k

c/w - language

hey y'all... wanted to make this chapter extra juicy to make up for the heartbreak from last chap and now i can finally push out new chaps for u guys and appear under tags!! hope y'all enjoy the surprise at the end as much as i enjoyed writing it 😈😈😈 (defo more to come!!!)

and as always, anons pls send me oneshot requests (i'm begging atp)

chapter 4: breaking point 

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

Azzi -

Azzi sat cross-legged on her stiff hotel bed. Still damp from the shower, the city lights of Vegas bled through the room's curtains.

She shouldn’t care this much. It was a random day. A random plane ride. A few touches and almost-kisses wrapped in tension and hope. But somehow, Paige had settled in her system like an echo she couldn’t mute. Every time she blinked, it was Paige’s face she saw — proud, beautiful, pissed.

Blinking herself out of her tears, her thumb hovered over her phone, debating whether to phone Nailyssa or not, until finally she hit FaceTime.

The screen rang, sending echoes across her silent hotel room. Then Nailyssa’s face popped up, flushed and grinning, with party lights swirling behind her.

"AZZIIIIIIII!! How you been girl?" Nailyssa screamed over the speaker, which was blasting PND like it was the last day on earth. She stayed laughing as a couple of girls danced behind her, shoving each other playfully. “Dude, we miss you! Wait—hold up—everybody say hi to my girl!”

A chorus of voices filled the screen: Azzi! Miss you! When you coming back? She forced a small, tight smile. She loved her friends back in Virginia, and she had missed them a heck of a lot. But in that moment, all she could muster was a quiet, “Hey, y’all.”

As Nai was about to say something, Matt popped into frame and shouted something Azzi couldn’t hear. Her chest tightened. Seeing her boyfriend had made her suffering worse. Like, way worse.

Nailyssa rolled her eyes, laughing. “Chill, Matt! I’m talking to the wife!”

Nailyssa leaned closer to the screen, squinting. Then her face dropped. “Oh, shit—sorry, Az. You good?”

Azzi’s face had given her away.

She quickly shook her head, tightening the hoodie around her frame like it could hide the crack splitting down her chest.

 “I’m fine,” she said sweetly, her voice steadier than she felt. Seeing Nailyssa in her element, it pained Azzi to force her issues on her. Especially when it shouldn’t be affecting her this much. “Just tired. You’re good, though. Looks fun.”

Nailyssa’s face crumpled a little, but Azzi added quickly, “Really, go have fun. You deserve it.”

“Az—”

“Go, have fun. Love you.” Azzi cut in gently, and ended the call.

The screen went black, and the quiet of the room suddenly felt like a blanket too heavy to move under.

Azzi let the phone slip from her fingers, rolling onto her side with a heavy exhale. Her arms ached for something to hold, someone to pull her out of the knot in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry over a girl who barely even knew her.

A knock at the door startled her. She hesitated, glancing at the time. 10:46.

Azzi sat up fast, wiping her face even though she hadn't cried—yet. She cracked the door open to find Caroline standing there in baggy sweats, hair damp from the shower.

“Hey, just checking on you," Caroline said, her voice soft. "You good?”

She softened immediately under the warmth of Carol's gaze and forced a small smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Carol raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Tired… or tired of Paige?”

Azzi froze, her hand still on the door.

Caroline laughed, misreading the silence. She shouldered into the room, plopping down on Azzi's bed like she owned the place. “C’mon, Az. It’s obvious. She’s trying to get in your head. It’s, like, her whole thing.” Azzi’s heart twisted, but she stayed quiet.

"You’re one of the best players I’ve ever known," Caroline said, voice turning serious. "So tomorrow? I want you to walk in there with that signature Azzi charm. Make sure to bring that pretty little jump shot of yours. Show Paige who’s actually running the court."

Azzi nodded, biting the inside of her cheek. The words made her eyes sting. She didn’t deserve that kind of faith tonight. Not when she’d been unraveling for hours over a girl who looked at her like she'd ripped out her heart.

But Caroline's words grounded her, forced her to remember why she came. This wasn’t about Paige. Or whatever lived and died between them.

This was about the team. The dream. Her future.

She exhaled slowly, feeling something tighten back into place. Her hands curled into fists at her sides.

Azzi smiled, for real this time. “You’re right.”

Caroline grinned, already kicking her feet up like the conversation was settled. “Damn right I’m right. Now go to sleep, hooper. Big day tomorrow.”

Azzi nodded, tugging the covers up and sliding into bed. She stared at the ceiling long after Caroline slipped out, a fierce determination hardening in her chest.

Tomorrow, she’d show up for herself. And if Paige wanted war on the court?

Then fine. She’d bring the fire.

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

Paige -

Paige sat in her bed, her head softly thudding against the headboard when her alarm rang. 6:00. 

She hadn’t even realised she had stayed up the whole night, ruminating over the ‘people’s princess’ of basketball. 

Shocked she hadn’t seen Azzi on the internet before, she had taken the liberty to check Instagram. And when she was met with no profile photo and posts, she resorted to scrolling endlessly through Azzi’s tagged posts, mouth agape. 

Damn. Paige thought as she scrolled through Nailyssa’s posts, seeing photos of Azzi at a party dressed in a tight tube top and a miniskirt that hugged her waist and ass in just the right places.

Realising what she was doing, she threw her phone across the bed and screamed into her pillow. What was she thinking?

Picking herself up, Paige threw on her #5 jersey, grabbing her backpack before rushing out to the gym. Even though every inch of her wanted to destroy her in practice, she desperately wanted to see the face she had been thinking about all night.  

.

.

.

The gym doors gave a hollow squeak as Paige stepped inside. For a second, it looked empty. She inhaled deeply, shoulders relaxing. Good. She had time. Time to cool her head. Time to run drills. Time to not think about the way Azzi’s skirt clung to her hips in that tagged photo.

But then, the sound of dribbling. 

Paige’s head tilted. Again—

Dribble. One-two. Rise, then swoosh.

She followed the sound and squinted. There, at the far end of the court — already drenched in sweat and rhythm — was Azzi.

6:20? Paige blinked at the wall clock. Warm-ups didn’t start until 7:15. She grunted, half in annoyance, half in awe. She turned dramatically, and made her way to the opposite end of the court. Dropping her duffel with a thud, she turned her back to Azzi like a petty act of self-preservation. If she couldn’t see her, maybe her brain would finally shut up.

She started her free throws, slipping her headphones on, but it didn’t help.

The sound of the ball landing in the hoop had become a constant, as if replaying the same song over and over again. 

A tempo. Clean. No backboard. Barely a rattle. Just net.

Paige turned, unable to help herself.

Azzi was a vision — legs planted firm, elbow tucked, each release identical to the last. Her hair was pinned up, but a few curls had escaped and stuck to her jaw. Her form was perfect. Paige swallowed.

No wonder they called her the Steph Curry prodigy. From Paige’s tireless hours of doom scrolling across Azzi’s feed, she had been surprised at how many accomplishments the girl had. Named National Gatorade high school player of the year, winning countless Steph Curry shoot-out competitions. She knew now. Azzi was that girl.

And as if sensing the stare — Azzi turned.

Their eyes locked.

Caught off guard that Azzi had caught her staring, Paige hurried her mind to come up with a snarky remark to shake Azzi’s confidence —and maybe enjoy the flirting again — until she realised Azzi was staring straight into her eyes. 

But this time, it wasn’t the same soft-eyed gaze from the plane. Not the warm curiosity from across the aisle, or the flirtatious look when Paige had caught up to her at the airport. This was steel. A dare. A challenge.

Azzi’s hands moved like muscle memory. Her eyes staying on Paige's as she shot another 3 pointer, with a straight trajectory —swish.

As soon as the ball left Azzi’s hands, she fully turned to Paige, then winked. And without much effort, the ball hit nothing but net.

God, she was so fucking annoying.

Azzi turned back to the rack like nothing happened, grabbing another ball, cool and unbothered. Paige stood frozen, lips parted, heart punching through her chest like it wanted to launch itself across the court.

She couldn’t tell what pissed her off more — the fact that Azzi had stared her down and made that shot like it was nothing, or the fact that Paige was so pathetically, painfully into it.

She was half a second from storming across the court and kissing her senseless—

Until a bunch of other girls walked into the gym, their sneakers squeaking the court, causing Paige to retract from Azzi (who had made it to half court) and continue her shooting drills in silence.

“Morning, queens!” KK burst in, the sound of Sexxyred blaring through her JBL speakers. Sarah and Nika were trailing behind her, fixing their shoes and stretching out their hamstrings.

Azzi jogged casually to half-court, towel slung over her shoulder like nothing had happened back there. Paige cursed under her breath and forced herself back into motion, returning to her shooting drills with mechanical precision.

“Yo Az…!!!” KK grinned. “We've been meaning to ask… what was it like to learn from the Steph Curry?”

Sarah came up from behind KK. “It’s giving MVP energy. You cooked yesterday.”

“I can tell he didn’t skip cardio with you,” Nika added, shaking her head. “Are you even tired?”

Azzi chuckled softly, then turned her head — slowly, but deliberately — to Paige.

Her voice carried, loud enough to echo across the stadium. “Felt like barely anything.”

Paige froze.

Azzi tilted her head a notch, eyes glinting.

“Paige looks pretty tired though,” Azzi continued, as if talking to herself, but not really. “Last night wear you out, Paigey?”

Paige scoffed, dribbling the ball between her legs as an attempt to stay calm.

"Don't be shy, I can see those dark circles under your eyes" Azzi continued to tease.

Damn her for stalking Azzi last night.

Collecting herself, Paige huffed before directing her attention in Azzi's way. “Hey princess” she replied, plastering on a falsely confident grin. “Maybe you should worry less about my stamina and more about your spot on the roster.”

A few oohs from the girls echoed, slapping each other playfully as they entertained themselves with this newfound rivalry, but Azzi didn’t flinch.

Instead, she smirked, like Paige’s fire was kindling her own.

And maybe it was.

Because whatever the hell this was — the tension, flirtation, full-blown basketball warfare — it was only just getting started.

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

Azzi -

As more players trickled in to warm up, Azzi stood to the side of the court, running occasional plays with Carol. She was locked in. Unlike the fan-girling, soft Azzi she had been yesterday, she was not going to go easy on Paige anymore. Screw the tingling she had to swallow every time Paige looked her way. Screw the stolen glances when Paige wasn’t watching, and the sharp twist in her gut when she caught that flicker of betrayal on Paige’s face. She wasn’t in Vegas for this — not for hookups, not to gamble away her feelings. And definitely not to fall for some girl she’d met days ago… only to let her win because her damn heart went soft.

No, she was here to play ball. The same game she had been playing since she was a toddler. The same game that comforted her despite whatever was going on in her life. The same game she was so darn good at.

So as the girls finished up their warm ups, and huddled up into teams as instructed, Azzi knew she was going to make the most of it. The group had only 30 girls now, meaning 18 of them were to be cut. And realising Paige was staring across from her, on the opposite team, a smirk appeared on her face. Azzi was going to give what Paige had so desperately wanted: a fucking war. 

Coach blew the whistle sharp through the gym, signaling tip-off.

Everyone shuffled into position. The sound of sneakers squeaking across the hardwood echoed beneath the bright overhead lights. Azzi stepped into the centre circle, eyes locked dead ahead. And there she was — Paige.

She stepped up across from her, confidence painted all over her face like she hadn’t spent the night spiralling into Instagram Azzi rabbit holes. But Azzi saw the stiffness in her shoulders. The split-second delay before she adjusted her stance. She wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Ready?” the ref asked, holding the ball between them.

Paige didn’t answer. She just tilted her head slightly and offered Azzi a slow, smug smile.

Azzi didn’t flinch.

She bent her knees, eyes sharp and still. It didn’t matter that Paige looked like every internet’s blonde dream or that Azzi had once admired that smirk.

Today, that smirk was the target.

The whistle blew, and the ball soared into the air.

Azzi exploded upward.

They both did.

Arms outstretched, hands fighting for inches. But Azzi’s timing was perfect. Her fingertips reached the ball first, swatting it clean to Carol who caught it and took off down the lane.

Game on.

Azzi landed lightly and already sprinted downcourt, her movements automatic. Paige trailed her, right on her heels, but something in her expression had shifted — the games, the snark, the seduction — they were gone now.

This wasn’t for show anymore.

Azzi hit the wing, caught Carol’s pass, and — with one fluid motion — pivoted, stepped back, and released.

Swish.

No backboard. No hesitation.

Paige’s jaw tensed.

As she jogged backward on defense, Azzi didn’t look her way. Not even once.

Because this time? She wasn’t playing with Paige.

She was playing against her.

And she was just getting started.

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

Paige -

Paige felt the sting of Azzi’s jumper like it hit her, not the net.

She gritted her teeth and turned, jogging back into position, fists clenched at her sides. Okay. Cool. So we’re doing this now.

She’d walked into the gym hoping for a look, maybe a smile, maybe a breathless hey. Instead, she got a highlight reel — and a front-row seat to her own humiliation.

And the worst part?

She was into it.

Azzi was faster than yesterday. Sharper. Her handles were tighter, her cuts cleaner. It wasn’t just that she was showing off — no, this wasn’t about show. This was personal. Every move screamed I’m over it. I don’t care anymore. Every shot felt like a slap across Paige’s ego. Across her chest.

She was punishing her.

And it was working.

Paige’s team brought the ball up the court. She waved off a screen, opting to go iso — and she knew exactly who she wanted.

Azzi switched onto her without hesitation.

For a beat, neither of them moved.

Just two girls, five feet apart, pretending this was still about basketball.

Then Paige made her move. Hard crossover to the left. Azzi bit — barely — but recovered quick. Paige spun back to the right, rose up for a jumper.

Azzi’s hand was right there.

Paige released anyway — forced it — and it clanged off the rim.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath, turning on her heel as Azzi snagged the rebound like she’d known it was coming.

Of course she had.

The game went on like that. Paige trying to find a rhythm, to remind herself that she was Paige Fucking Bueckers — but Azzi was everywhere. Gliding. Shooting. Locking in on defense. Like she’d been designed for moments like this.

And Paige?

She couldn’t stop watching her.

Every shot Azzi sank tightened the knot in Paige’s stomach. Every time Azzi laughed with Carol or bumped fists with KK, Paige felt like she was watching someone she used to know — someone who’d shared a red-eye flight, and empty feelings and a moment that had felt stupidly, ridiculously real.

But maybe she’d imagined that.

Maybe the smirk, the foot nudges, the almost-kisses — maybe it had all been games to Azzi.

And that’s what pissed her off the most.

Midway through the scrimmage, Paige finally managed to drive past Azzi, finishing with a slick underhand layup that rolled off her fingers and kissed the glass.

“And one,” she muttered to herself, turning just in time to meet Azzi’s eyes.

Azzi didn’t flinch.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t care.

She just jogged away, lifting her shirt ever so slightly to wipe her forehead, hands already calling for the ball again.

And Paige — panting, hands on her knees — realised with a jolt of panic:

She wants to beat me.

Not flirt. Not test the waters. Not even hate me.

She just wants to win.

Azzi caught a pass at the top of the arc. Paige stepped out on her, squared her shoulders. Azzi jabbed once, twice, pulled back, then — like it was nothing — rose into a three-pointer.

Paige got a hand up. Too late.

Swish.

Azzi landed softly, eyes on Paige as she backpedaled.

And this time?

No smirk.

No wink.

Just that same, steady look — direct, ice-cold, dangerous.

Paige swallowed hard.

It should’ve made her angry.

But all it did was make her want her more.

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

Azzi -

Azzi was in the zone.

She had just sunk her third three-pointer in a row, and the rush of it filled her chest like rocket fuel. Every swish added a new brick to the wall she was building — one that kept Paige out. One that reminded her she didn’t need anyone, especially not some smug blonde who played with people’s feelings like it was just another game.

But even through the armour, Azzi could feel Paige’s eyes.

She always could.

There was something magnetic about the way Paige watched her — intense, hungry, impossible to ignore. And even now, even with all her fire pointed squarely at her, Azzi felt it. The heat of it. The weight.

Still, she didn’t let it shake her.

Not until she heard it.

A sickening thud. Then a gasp. Then a pause — that split-second silence only athletes recognise, the one that means something’s wrong.

Azzi turned on instinct.

Paige was on the floor.

Her body crumpled awkwardly, one leg twisted beneath her, clutching her ankle like it had betrayed her. The ball bounced away, aimless.

“Shit—Paige?”

Azzi’s feet moved before her brain did, sprinting across the court and dropping to her knees beside her before anyone else could. 

The smugness, the war, the flirty standoff — gone. All Azzi could see was the way Paige’s face twisted, her jaw clenched tight against the pain, trying not to cry. Trying not to look vulnerable.

Azzi’s heart did something violent.

“Don’t touch it,” Paige muttered, her voice breathless and sharp as the coach knelt beside them, shouting for a trainer.

Azzi froze. Her hand was already halfway to Paige’s wrist.

“I wasn’t going to,” she lied, softly.

Paige wouldn’t look at her. Not directly.

But her knuckles were white around her ankle, and her breathing was shallow, and Azzi could see it now — the fear.

Not just of the injury. But of what it might mean.

Missing the team. Missing the tournament. Falling short of something she'd wrapped her whole identity around.

Azzi knew that fear. More than she was willing to admit.

And still, she said nothing.

Because part of her — the part that had been burning since yesterday — whispered: This is what happens when you let people in.

Azzi rose slowly as the trainer arrived with an ice pack and a stretcher. She stepped back into the crowd of girls watching, all of them murmuring in soft concern. Her chest felt tight. Unsteady. Like something had just split open inside her.

And when Paige was finally helped off the court, limping, one arm thrown around a staff member’s shoulder for balance, Azzi didn’t follow.

She just watched.

And hated how much she cared.

.

.

.

The locker room was unusually quiet.

No laughter. No banter. Just the low hum of the air vents and the muffled thud of someone tossing their sneakers into a cubby.

Azzi sat on the bench, untying her shoes slowly, her fingers twitching from leftover adrenaline. Her back was to Paige, but she didn’t have to turn to know she was there — she could feel the heat of her frustration radiating from across the room.

Paige was leaning against her locker, ankle wrapped tightly in a compression bandage, jaw locked so hard Azzi thought it might snap.

The trainers had told her it probably wasn’t serious. Just a rolled ankle. A few days, maybe. But that word — probably — was like a blade to someone like Paige. Someone who lived in absolutes. Who needed certainty the way other people needed oxygen.

Azzi looked over at the blonde, hurting and furious. The locker room was long empty now, with all the girls whispering “You’ll get better” and false promises to Paige as they left. But Azzi stayed, sitting next to Paige. No words exchanged, only the sound of heavy breathing filling the room. 

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

Paige -

Paige couldn’t think.

The trainer's words kept running around in her skull — “We’ll need to monitor the swelling. Give it a few days. Could just be a sprain.” Probably. Possibly. Maybe.

Paige didn’t do maybe.

She did win or lose. In or out. Break or bounce. No limbo, no waiting, no grey area.

So she did the only thing that made sense in that moment — she slammed her fist into the locker.

The sharp clang slicing through the silence like a gunshot. Pain shot up her knuckles. But it was dull compared to the pressure building in her chest. Her eyes were glassy, but no tears fell. So, she just stood there, chest rising and falling, caged in by the weight of her own pride and panic.

She was furious. At her ankle. At the trainers. At this stupid scrimmage.

And at Azzi.

Azzi who had walked onto the court like she owned it. Azzi who didn’t just beat her — she undressed her in front of everyone with that goddamn jumper. Azzi who didn’t look at her the way she had on the plane anymore. No softness. Just fire. Just vengeance. And it was killing Paige — because somewhere between that hunger and that hurt, Paige had wanted her even more.

She turned her head, and there she was. Sitting quietly on the bench, unbothered. Almost glowing. Paige’s jaw clenched tighter.

Her hands moved before her mind did.

And before she knew it — she was right in front of Azzi, breath hitching in surprise as Paige grabbed her by the waist and shoved her against the locker.

The cold metal met Azzi’s back, but she didn’t flinch.

Paige didn’t even blink. She just leaned in — mouth crashing into hers like a wave she’d been holding back for days.

The kiss was hard. Messy. Her fingers dug into Azzi’s hip like she needed something to anchor her, to keep her from drowning in it. She kissed her like she wanted to erase the past three days. The stares. The taunts. The way Azzi’s jumper made her knees weak. The way she hated her, and wanted her, and couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt when Azzi touched her hand on the plane. 

Azzi kissed her back — at first. Briefly. Just long enough for Paige to feel the heat surge up her spine. But something about it scared her.

Because it wasn’t just chemistry.

It was something real.

So, just as quickly as it began, Paige pulled back.

Her breath hitched. Her eyes wide now, flooded with panic.

Breathless. Shaken. Her heart was pounding loud enough to echo through the whole locker room.

“Sorry,” she muttered, her voice cracking more than she wanted it to. “That was— I didn’t mean— I’ll go.”

“No, wait—”

Azzi reached for her wrist. Not harsh. Not needy. Just firm enough to say: don’t run from me again.

And this time — Azzi leaned in. Her lips brushing against Paige’s like they had all the time in the world.

Her kiss wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t angry. Instead, it was warm. Intentional. Like she had decided a long time ago that if this ever happened — really happened — it would be on her terms.

Paige’s breath caught again, but she didn’t pull away.

Not this time. As their heartbeats began to synchronise with each other, Paige’s eyes flicked down to Azzi’s lips, parted just slightly, her breath shallow. Tentative. Wanting.

Paige leaned in — slower this time — and skimmed her tongue along Azzi’s bottom lip, barely touching, just enough to ask a question without words. Can I?

Azzi didn’t move — not away.

Instead, she tilted her head back ever so slightly, a soft, whispered “mhm” ghosting past Paige’s mouth like a secret.

That was all she needed.

Paige deepened the kiss, her hands sliding from Azzi’s waist up to her ribs, thumbs grazing beneath the hem of her practice tee. Azzi inhaled sharply, her body instinctively arching toward her. Needing more. Needing to be closer.

Azzi’s legs shifted as she leaned back, propping herself against the locker behind her. Her head tilted up to meet Paige’s again, mouth parted, inviting. Her posture screamed confidence, like she wasn’t just letting this happen — she was in it.

And Paige — breath caught in her throat — leaned closer, her leg propped between her thighs, the fit of it too perfect, too magnetic. Her knee brushed against Azzi’s thigh and Azzi exhaled something between a gasp and a curse.

Their mouths crashed again, this time with a heat that had been building since the moment they locked eyes at tip-off.

It was passionate — yes — but not messy like before. It was more desperate now, but more certain, too. The kind of kiss that said I’ve wanted this. I’ve tried not to. I can’t anymore.

Azzi’s hands reached up, fingers slipping into the waistband of Paige’s jersey at the sides, pulling her closer. Paige groaned low into her mouth, the tension in her shoulders finally starting to melt.

She rolled her hips slightly forward, enough to close the last inch of space between them, and Azzi’s thighs tightened reflexively around her. The bench creaked under the shift, but neither of them noticed.

The only thing that existed in that locker room — under the dim fluorescent lights and the echo of distant voices outside — was the feel of each other.

The way Azzi tasted like sweat and adrenaline and something addicting. The way Paige kissed like she was still playing to win. The way they both knew this was messy and dangerous and real.

Azzi finally broke the kiss with a soft pant, her head falling back against the locker with a soft thud. She looked up at Paige, lips swollen, eyes hazy, voice low. Paige let her forehead fall against Azzi’s, both of them breathing heavily, hearts still slamming inside their chests as Paige’s hand still rested lightly on Azzi’s hip like it had never left.

“You gonna walk out on me again?”

Paige’s breath caught in her chest, and she almost laughed — from disbelief, from how good Azzi’s mouth still felt on hers, from the way this whole day had flipped on its head.

But all she said, hoarse and barely audible, was:

“Not unless you tell me to.”

And just like that, everything changed.

For Paige, this was scarier than any injury. Scarier than losing.

But it also felt more like winning than anything she’d ever known.

[neonovember]

I just KNOW Carmen would be such a soft and amazing dad. 100% would make sure in between the restaurant to be there for you, and be there for his little cubs (doesn’t want things to go in the same vain it did with his lack of relationship with his dad) Even if working at the restaurant is one of his biggest priorities, you know he is absolutely taking time off in the last few months before your little girl or boy arrives (A strong supporter of Carmy being a girl dad). You’d have to physically and gently pry your baby from his arms because he can’t stop kissing them and pressing his nose against their little cheek 😭

oh my god, all the discourse about girl dad/boy dad on tiktok and i'm just like in the dictionary in MY universe carmen's photos is right under girl dad. carmen would be an amazing father regardless, but when he finds out hes getting a little girl???

He's buying her every single toy that could possible exist. It's just all pressed up against his chest at the checkout line no trolley nothing. Just straight cave man energy must..get..babygirl..things...

He's inconsolable when she comes, just straight up hiccuping and crying as the nurses try to get her out of his goddamn death grip. It's like your baby needs a bath and Carmen is like holding up against his pale ass bare chest like get out of my fucking face with that.

he's probably tricking Richie to come over under the guise of your god tier baked goods that never make it past the first minute of family - JUST to build his in utero baby girl a tree house. for you know, the 6 years that will come up.

"Alright, alright" Richie grins, rubbing his hands together as Carmen pulls into the drive way. He's damn near halfway out the car door before Carmen can kill the engine and if it was anyone but Cousin, Carmen would've attempted to hide his grin.

"Blessed thee, you absolute angel" Richie calls out as he opens the door. You poke your head out from under the load of laundry you've been trying to sort - the aching dullness at your hips preventing you so.

"Rich? What are you doing here?" You say, eyebrows quirking up at his sudden arrival.

"Funny too! You really got yourself a catch" Richie laughs, playfully jabbing at Carmen.

You look towards him, clocking your head at the grin that's begun to take up half of Carmen's face. You knew that look, what did he do?

"You know I didn't even get a piece at family last week? Fuckin' gremlins matter of fact I have to get back to the Bear soon, got a couple catering orders to organise. Least it isn't for Cicero's daughters best friend's dog or some shit" Richie mutters, and you can't help but hie the giggle before you straighten out.

Someone had to be the adult here, right?

"Is it in like a tupperware or..?" Richie replies when the puzzled look on your face remains

"What is?"

"Those cinnamon pastry thingies you always make" Richie replies, slowly turning to Carmen, than back to you

"Carm told me you made a little extra"

"Oh Richie" You sigh

"Don't..no. Cousin." Richie hands raise up to his temples, pinching the line that formed from believing a word out of Carmen's mouth.

"Don't tell me you lied" Richie quickly twists his body to point at Carmen

"I knew it was too good, I should have known.."

"Relax, it's for the greater good"

"What greater good? Do you know you deliberately contributed to a mans starvation?"

"You can't lie to a man that's going through those stages Cousin! No, no you don't get it!"

"Aye relax"

"You..you're a fucking mirage. That's what this is" Richie chuckles, shaking his head.

A silence falls over the three of you, and as your eyes meet Carmen you can't help the smile that creeps onto your face.

"So are you going to tell me why I'm here??" Richie yells suddenly.

"Yeah, I wanna build something for my future child that my wife is going to bring into this world. You know, something that's more important than fucking cinnamon buns

"Cinnamon twists" Richie murmurs softly, eyes glazed over, and if you squint it looks like a tear has actually squeezed out.

"Let him mourn Carm" You reply, gently rubbing Richie crouched figure.

Carmen shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he waits all of 5 seconds before his patience wears into an annoyed grunt.

"Alright what does my future niece need" Richie sighs

"Carmen we've already got the changing table and bassinet ready" You continue, running through the list of baby things that had begun to take up all the 'open space layout' you're house had. How much more things could you need?.

"Was doing some work out the back, and doesn't that tree we have close to the fence have a real good foundation" Carmen murmurs

"What are you saying?" Richie yoans

"My babygirl would want a tree house

"Carm-

"Just listen, I know her, half of her at least. And I wanted one the moment I could climb a tree. So naturally she would want one alright? And, and so it's like I'm just having it ready for when she needs it.

"Oh my god"

"What?"

"She isn't even here yet!"

"Don't remind me" Carmen grunts, genuinely grunts out.

"Carm, she'll be crawling for like so long" Richie interjects

"You don't know her" Carmen replies quickly, throwing accusatory eyes at Richie

"You think my baby girl won't be able to crawl in a tree house? I'm feeling a lot of negative energy I don't like"

"Besides, I already bought the wood. And everything else" Carmen murmurs

"I'm doing this for her Cousin, her!" Richie replies

"What about the catering order Rich?" You quirk, he had just stop rambling about it.

"Ah don't worry about it hun. Anything for my god daughter" Richie grins. Throwing his hand behind him for full effect.

"You can't be her god father and her uncle Cousin" Carmen replies

"Why the hell not-"

Richie is interrupted by the slight wince that leaves your mouth and has you ripping the counter and holding your sides.

Carmen moves towards you in a flash, gripping your sides softly as his eyes furrow in concern.

"You okay baby?"

You breathe out through your nose forcefully

"Just feelin sore, I'm alright"

"You don't want me doing the tree house? Done. It's over. Richie get the fuck out my house" Carmen yells out the last part

"Hey!"

"No, no do it. You're probably right"

"Bout what?"

"Every kid wants a fucking tree house"

Carmen carries you to the bathroom, with direct orders to soak in the tub for at least an hour while your child's metaphorical tree house is built.

You can hear the consistent argue of Richie and Carmen filter through the bathroom window even over the grating sound of sawing wood. You love it every bit, and as you kiss Richie goodbye, you slide a container of your cinnamon twists into his hand.

He turns around, the biggest smile you think you had ever scene on his face as he throws the finger at Carm, and takes off running out the door before he can react.

[raven-black102]

Sorry To My Unknown Lover

Jasper x Reader

3rd Person POV

“You go to tell her at one point Jasper.” Alice said as she watch Jasper stare at a girl who sat alone. “I can’t. I’ll just hurt her.” Jasper said softly as he looks down at his plate of food in pain. “She’s you mate Jasper.” Rosalie said even though she hates the though of the girl being human. Rosalie couldn’t help but feel drown to the girl along with the other Cullen’s.

“I can’t read her thoughts.” Edward said as Bella also looks at the girl a bit curiously. “Is she like me then?” Bella asked causing Edward to smile slightly then frown. “Yes and No. She’s blocking me out of her thoughts.” Edward said as they kept glancing at the girl.

(Y/n) stood still slightly feeling eyes on her but quickly brush it off since people are probably still not used to her being in school. ‘I wish I could just go home.’ I though sadly as I felt my bottom lip slightly quiver. That small action and feeling didn’t go unnoticed by Jasper.

(Y/n) sighed softly as She packed her stuff back into her bag only for something to catch her eye. There was a book filled with music sheets in them and a few writing here and there. (Y/n) smiled softly as she pulled it out and opened the book to some of the writing were her and her brother (B/n).

(Y/n) stood up and through away her untouched lunch away and quickly left the cafeteria to the music room. “Go get  her Jasper.” Alice said as she pushed him off his chair to follow (Y/n). Jasper didn’t say anything but followed (Y/n) as he felt the sadness swarm around her.

“Is she going to be okay?” Bella asked concern as she saw the look both Edward and Alice had. “She’s harming herself.” Alice said sadly. “If Jasper doesn’t to her now...” Edward said then looked away not wanting to finished his sentence.

(Y/n)’s POV

I smiled slightly as I saw a grand piano there in the back of the music room. “Ah (L/n)! It’s nice to see you!” The Music teacher said happily but took notice of the look I had on my face. “Are you okay?” He asked me concern as I bit my bottom lips. “No.” I said softly as I look down.

“Um... my brother... served in the Military... his not coming home.” I said softly as he looks at me. I quickly tried to whip the tears away from mt long sleeve shirt. “I’m so sorry. I’ll leave you here alone. You can stay here as long as you need okay.” He said as I gave him a small smile.

I sat on the stool as I look at the keys of the beautiful oak piano and ivy like keys. I placed my bag down and gently place the book sheet on the music desk. I looked at the keys and took a deep breath before I started to gently press agent the keys.

3rd Person POV

Jasper snick inside the music room and hide in the corner as (Y/n) sat on the stool and got ready to play. He could help but notice the peaceful yet sad look on her face.

(Sorry by Halsey)

I've missed your calls for months it seems/ Don't realize how mean I can be/ 'Cause I can sometimes treat the people/ That I love like jewelry/ 'Cause I can change my mind each day/ I didn't mean to try you on/ But I still know your birthday/ And your mother's favorite song

So I'm sorry to my unknown lover/ Sorry that I can't believe that anybody ever really/ Starts to fall in love with me/ Sorry to my unknown lover/ Sorry I could be so blind/ Didn't mean to leave you/ And all of the things that we had behind

Oh/ Oh/ Oh

I run away when things are good/ And never really understood/ The way you laid your eyes on me/ In ways that no one ever could/ And so it seems I broke your heart/ My ignorance has struck again/ I failed to see it from the start/ And tore you open 'til the end

And I'm sorry to my unknown lover/ Sorry that I can't believe that anybody ever really/ Starts to fall in love with me/ Sorry to my unknown lover/ Sorry I could be so blind/ Didn't mean to leave you/ And all of the things that we had behind

And someone will love you/ Someone will love you/ Someone will love you/ But someone isn't me/ Someone will love you/ Someone will love you/ Someone will love you/ But someone isn't me

Sorry to my unknown lover/ Sorry that I can't believe that anybody ever really/ Starts to fall in love with me/ Sorry to my unknown lover/ Sorry I could be so blind/ Didn't mean to leave you/ And all of the things that we had behind

And someone will love you/ Someone will love you/ Someone will love you/ But someone isn't me/ And someone will love you/ Someone will love you/ Someone will love you/ But someone isn't me

Jasper looked at (Y/n) in pain at the song yet it gave him some confidences. "That is beautiful." Jasper said causing (Y/n) to jump slightly in surprise. "Sorry ma'am." Jasper laughed softly as he sat next to his mate. "Didn't mean to scare you." He said as he slowly got lost in (Y/n)'s (e/c) eyes.

"You just surpise me is all." (Y/n) said with a faint blush on her cheeks. "I'm (Y/n) (L/n)." (Y/n) said with a kind smile. "I'm Jasper Hale." Jasper said as he took (Y/n)'s hand and gently press a kiss on her knuckles.

[obscuraimagines]

i NEED more for kodiak PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏 I DONT CARE WHAT IT IS I JUST NEED IT 😭😭

A/N: Thank you so much for this wildcard, Anon! I'm working on another request (which should be out in a couple of days) and this was really helpful in letting me get some plot stuff out of the way first. I really hope you enjoy!

Bite Me - Part Three

Summary: It's getting harder to keep your secret relationship secret. Mainly because Kodiak can't keep his hands to himself.

Content: Secret relationship, fear of getting found out, age difference (reader is over 18)

Part One

Part Two

The second day of your trek to freedom starts off badly. Kodiak berates Mari for falling asleep on guard duty, Natalie stands up for her and it turns into a blistering argument. By the time you set off, everyone’s on edge. You pick your way down the mountainside and there’s a brief ripple of something – hope? Alarm? – when you find the remnants of a campsite: flattened grass, the charred remnants of a fire. Natalie crouches to poke at a piece of charcoal, crushing it between her fingers. 

“This is recent. A few days maybe.”

You all exchange worried glances. If there are more people out here they’re an unknown quantity: even one stranger could tip the balance. 

“More like a week,” Kodiak catches up to you, Travis and Akilah trailing him. “Ask me how I know.”

You startle and then feel stupid because of course it’s his campsite. Natalie straightens, flushing angrily. It’s not like her to make mistakes but you’re all wound tight, bracing yourself for the worst, whether it’s a wolf attack or Shauna’s retribution. 

“This is where we would have camped last night if you’d all been able to keep pace,” Kodiak adds, unhelpfully. The way the others are bristling in Nat’s defence makes you nervous. Last time you all found one person to focus your frustrations on, that person ended up dead. You suspect, if it comes to that, Kodiak will take a few of you down with him. 

“You’re the one who wanted to hike for nearly twenty hours.” Nat bites the words out. Her voice drops low and gravelly towards the end and the others get still, the way animals hide when they sense a storm coming. Nat’s accent only comes into play when she’s right on the edge, clinging onto her temper with her fingernails. Travis moves to flank her: he isn’t exactly aiming the crossbow yet but he’s holding it in a pointed kind of way, as though that could change quickly. 

“My bad,” Kodiak says, looking unconcerned. “Here I thought it’d be good to put some distance between us and the cannibals – sorry, the other cannibals – before we slept. Maybe for you lot, waking up with someone gnawing on your leg is no big deal. I mean, it’s not like you’re the one who’s going to die if they catch up to us–”

You feel the air turn thick. There are a lot of things you’re all so careful not to say out here and Kodiak seems to delight in saying them, testing things until they break. He doesn’t understand yet how ugly things can get and how quickly things can tip over. You need to shut him up before someone else does. 

“We’re all going to die if they catch up to us.” You step between him and Nat: at this point, you’re not sure which one of them you’re shielding. “You’re lucky Shauna doesn’t care about you. The rest of us will suffer.”

The corner of Kodiak’s mouth quirks up, halfway to a smile. His focus is solely on you now, eyes darkening with interest. You feel breathless, remembering last night. 

“Great pep talk,” he tells you drily. “Hey, if soccer doesn’t work out, you could give the cheer squad a try. I hear the uniforms are better.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners a little and you can tell he’s daring you to start something, setting you off just to see what you’ll do.

“None of us slept very well last night.” You keep your voice reasonable, placating: your friends standing behind you probably think you’re playing peacemaker. You fix Kodiak with your most don’t–fuck–with–me glare and rub your shoulder, hooking the collar of your shirt out of the way with your thumb to let him glimpse the lovebite you’ve been carefully keeping hidden. Your heart is hammering in your chest. “Everyone’s tense. Let’s not make things worse than they need to be.”

Kodiak grins, wolfishly, all teeth. He steps forwards, getting right in your face. “Is that right?”

For a moment, you think he might actually call your bluff and start something, right then and there.

“Do. Not. Fucking. Test. Me,” you tell him in a low voice. 

Kodiak reaches out to brush your hair off your shoulder. You pull away, guiltily, afraid of what it’ll look like to the others, not realising that you practically recoiling from him looks worse. You hear Nat snarl and start forwards behind you, accompanied by Travis’s “hey, what the fuck–”

“You had a spider.” Kodiak pretends to brush something off your shoulder and raises his hands in innocent mock surrender. “You’re right: everyone is tense. Better save our energy for later.”

He strolls off, knowing that you have no choice but to follow him. 

“Are you okay?” Akilah asks once he’s out of earshot. “You look kind of um…”

You don’t want to think about what you look like right now. 

“He is such a fucking asshole,” Mari complains, slipping her arm through yours. “Remind me why we brought him?”

“He’s the only one who knows the way, Mar,” Akilah reminds her. 

“Ugh. He totally has it out for both of us.”

You tense. “He’s barely spoken to me.”

“No, he just weirdly glares at you. Like a lot.”

“You didn’t notice?” Akilah asks, her brow creased in concern. 

“No, I mean…” you stammer.

“Maybe he likes her.” Misty chirps at your elbow. For once, you don’t even mind her sneaking up on you. 

“Ohmygod Misty.” Mari’s voice is heavy with disgust. “Stop projecting your weird old man fetish onto the rest of us.”

None of you really want to think about Ben, so mercifully the subject drops. You walk in silence, barely listening to them. Your thoughts draw back to Kodiak. Just because he enjoyed the challenge doesn’t mean you’re not going to pay for it later. 

A little after noon, you hit the next roadblock. Kodiak stands looking out over an uneven expanse of rock. You can tell from the set of his shoulders that he’s frustrated. 

“Rockslide took the trail with it,” he tells your group tersely when you catch up to him. “We’ll have to backtrack, cut through the valley and up the other side.”

Nat surveys the rocky scree. You guess she’s thinking the same thing you are: you might make it but the ground will be treacherous and none of you have decent shoes. 

“We’ll lose a lot of height,” she comments. Going uphill is a long, difficult slog and losing altitude seems like a waste. 

Kodiak shrugs. “That’s why the trail was up here.”

Natalie glances at the green valley below you. This high up, you’re looking down onto treetops. 

“Is it dangerous?”

“Everywhere out here is dangerous.” Kodiak rolls his eyes. You bristle at that: as thought Nat – as though any of you – needs to be told the Wilderness isn’t safe. “Still better than what’s behind us.”

None of you have much choice except to turn back. Covering the same ground twice is dispiriting but at least you’re walking downhill this time. It’s unseasonably hot for September and mostly people walk in irritable silence. Everything starts to look the same: you’re starting to wonder if you’ve veered off course when you see a stream you passed earlier, falling like a bead curtain over a rocky outcrop and pooling into a natural basin. Kodiak takes pity on your group because he lets you stop to drink and soak your feet. Some of the others strip off their outer layers, soaking them in the water, wringing them and letting the damp fabric cool them down. You wish you could join them. There’s a natural cave behind it and you wander into the cool dark. It doesn’t look like much from the outside but it goes back further than you’d think. 

“Not joining the wet tshirt contest, huh?”

You didn’t hear Kodiak approach. 

“I might if someone hadn’t left a mark,” you tell him irritably. 

“Hey, you started it.” He indicates the spot on his shoulder where you bit him. There’s a faint crescent shaped smear of blood on his shirt. You hope the others haven’t noticed. “At least I was nice about it.”

“Speaking of nice,” you say, rounding on him. “Do you think you can ease up on the others for five fucking seconds?”

He catches your wrist. “I mean, if you want to improve my mood…”

You jerk your arm free. The rocks are slick underfoot and you almost fall. Kodiak steadies you and doesn’t let go, one hand on your elbow, the other resting on your hip. 

You glance towards the cave entrance. So far the others haven’t noticed. 

“Oh so that wasn’t blackmail before?” Kodiak asks, his tone deceptively pleasant. “I can never tell with you: are you flirting or just making threats.”

“You’re one to talk. Which is this?”

He smiles and lets go of your arm so he can trace your jawline with a fingertip, tilting your chin up so you’re forced to face him. His other hand lingers possessively on your hip, one thumb hooked into your belt loop. “See that’s the thing. I think you like it better when it’s both.”

he mortifying thing is, he’s not wrong. 

“I don’t think you actually want to be rescued,” he continues. You’re too taken aback to stutter out a protest. Kodiak steps into your space, pushing you with him until your back hits the cool stone behind you and you’re caged in his arms. “I think you’ve been out here so long, danger’s started to feel like home. I think you want more.” 

“I know what we’ve been through is some giant fucking joke to you,” you retort. You realise you’re being way too loud and drop your voice into a furious hiss. The worst part is, on some level he’s right; there is no going back to how things were. Either you’re going to die or you’re going to have to live with the knowledge of what you’ve done. “None of us asked for this. I didn’t– I should be a sophomore in college by now.” It’s getting harder to speak coherently. You dig your nails into your arm, willing yourself to keep it together. “I want to go home, okay? I want to be normal.”

You trail off, hating the plaintive note in your voice. 

Kodiak scoffs. “We both know you’re a long way past normal.” He shakes his head slightly, studying you, like you’ve disappointed him somehow. “Trust me. Civilisation’s going to bore you to tears.” 

“You are such a fucking asshole!” you snap, forgetting to be quiet. You wrench free from his grip and shove him. You have no hope of overpowering him but he takes a step backwards; his expression is amused, humouring you even as you storm off. 

“What happened?” Akilah asks, as you nearly knock her and Mari over.

“Nothing! Sorry!” You don’t look round, you just keep heading for the treeline as fast as you can without breaking into a run. You don’t really want to be around the others right now either. You’re all gambling your lives on Kodiak’s ability to guide you safely through the Wilderness: maybe if they’d known his real motivation they wouldn’t have come. Maybe you’ve just put them in worse danger. “I just need to stretch my legs a minute.”

“Um, we’ve literally been walking all day?” Mari calls after you. 

When you’re pretty sure you’re out of sight you break into a sprint, until the breath burns in your lungs and you stumble to your knees. You don’t get far – between the hike and rationing what little food you brought, you don’t have the stamina. You just needed to run until you couldn’t anymore, the same way you sometimes used to steal a pillow from the cabin and scream into it. At some point during winter you reconciled yourself with the fact you were going to die out here and all the fear and rage and longing kind of froze over inside you. Now because of him they’re thawing. It hurts. 

You take a few minutes to calm down, before you head back. The trees are so thick it’s easy to feel like you’re the only person here. They also, apparently, make it very easy for someone who knows how to be quiet to sneak up on you. 

“You can stay mad if you want,” Kodiak tells you, grabbing your arm as though he’s afraid you’ll bolt again. “Whatever: it’s cute. But you do not just run off.”

You try to jerk away but he’s too fast: he catches you around the middle and shoves you into a tree trunk so he can keep you pinned. It’s covered in moss so thick it’s like sinking into shaggy green fur. For all you know, nobody else has ever been here. The two of you could be the first people ever to see this tree. Maybe the last too. 

“You realise there could be wolves out here?” He shakes you a little for emphasis and you realise you might actually have scared him a little.

“Whatever.” You try to wrench free. It doesn’t work: he’s too strong and too pissed to let you. You settle for glaring at him instead. “We’ve faced wolves before.”

“And how’d that work out for you?”

You’re hit with the memory of teeth; of half of Van’s face hanging off; of holding her down while the others sewed it up, your hands so slippery with blood you could hardly keep your grip, your sobs blending with her screams. 

“I thought I was addicted to danger?” you spit back at him. “What do you care?”

You shove as hard as you can and manage to almost stagger him. Almost. 

“Drop the teenage bullshit.” Kodiak leans down to snarl directly into your face. “You made yourself my problem when you begged me to get you off this mountain.”

Everything is so dangerous out here – even more now you’ve fled your makeshift village – that you forget he’s dangerous too. You’d bested him before but only because your teammates had him outnumbered. Out here it’s just you and him. 

You know the sensible thing to do would be to apologise, quietly go back with him, and keep giving him whatever he wants once the others are asleep. But you’re not ready to swallow your pride just yet, so you do what you did last time he was threatening you and drag him down into a kiss. 

There’s no hesitation this time. He grabs a handful of your shirt and pulls you up onto your tiptoes, so hard the worn fabric rips. You try to pull away, knowing you’ll have to explain to the others, but he follows you backwards, slamming you back into the tree trunk. Kodiak picks you up by your thighs, lifting you so you’re on a level with him and using his bodyweight to keep you pinned in place. You feel a thrill at how easily he moves you, somewhere between fear and desire. 

“You going to try this every time you lose a fight?” He speaks the words almost into your mouth, his voice rough. His breathing is fast but nowhere near as ragged as your own. He doesn’t give you chance to answer him before he’s kissing you again. 

You hadn’t planned beyond distracting him. His thigh is planted between yours; the seam of your jeans presses into you with a friction that makes it hard to think. You don’t want him to stop. He slides a hand under your torn shirt, to your breast and you bite down on a whimper, afraid the others will hear. 

Shit! The thought of the others is like being doused in freezing water. You turn your head to break the kiss and Kodiak follows you, forcing you to twist away from him until your cheek is pressed flat against the moss covered bark. 

“Wait. We’ve been gone too long.”

Kodiak goes in to press a kiss to your lips, feathering more across your jaw. “I’m starting to think you get off on sneaking around.”

“Oh sure. I love hiking in layers to cover the marks you left, trying to pretend I’m not sore from last night…”

The way Kodiak smirks, you’re pretty sure he took that as a compliment. You plant your hands on his chest and try to push him. 

“Well you weren’t complaining at the time.” He grabs your wrists and pins them either side of your head. “And we both know I could have been a lot rougher.”

His voice is heavy with promise. Despite yourself, you turn to face him. 

“I don’t think you appreciate how frustrating it is, holding myself back around you,” he tells you, his voice low and soft. “And I mean, last night: you did kind of owe me.”

There’s a metallic click. You’d know it anywhere: the sound of the rifle’s safety being switched off. You turn and face the absolutely worst person who could be pointing a gun at you right now.

“What the fuck do you mean she owes you?”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. If you enjoyed it please tell me: it's what keeps me going. I'm working on two more request fills, which should be out shortly. To everyone who sent in a request: thank you for being patient I will get to it. To everyone else, requests are still open but it may take a while.

[miniscule-meow]

Charlie and Felix: Emergency Contact

Masterpost Wordcount: ~2k First Part | Last Part | Next Part

“Um, hey, Felix? This is Charlotte. Um, Charlotte Beauregard. I’m from... like, from school.” She speaks sloppily, her words mashing into one another with an unnatural cadence.

“I know who you are, Charlie,” he says, frowning. “When did you get my number?”

“I um… got it from the emergency contact sheet at work,” she admits sheepishly, he can hear the wince in her tone.

“If this isn’t an emergency, I’m hanging up.” He says simply.

“Wait! Please, please don’t hang up.” There is a level of desperation in her voice that gives him pause. “Are… are you still there?” she asks softly. The way her voice quivers with uncertainty makes his stomach twist. He suddenly gets the feeling that this is going to be a very long night.

“Yeah. I’m here. What do you want?”

"I um. I need your help?”

“Oh, that’s really cute,” he barks a laugh, a cold instinct. Since when does anyone want his help?

"I’m serious. I know that this is really, really stupid. But you’re the only person I can call right now.”

“I’m listening.”

“So, I’m at this party? And I can’t drive myself back because, well… I didn’t drive myself here. And I’m also- I probably couldn’t drive even if…. I did…. Drive. Um,” she takes a breath, trying to wrangle her spiraling thoughts. “Can you come pick me up?”

“That’s it?” He asks. “You really couldn’t think of anyone else to call? Like an Uber or something?”

“For really,” she mumbles into the phone. “I just don’t really feel all that safe anymore. I know- I know what my brother said, and I know what I said. But I just,” her words begin to dissolve into incoherent mumbles.

“You’re not safe?” His tone is cold and dangerous. A protective spark ignites in his chest. He doesn’t necessarily have the best relationship with Charlie… he doesn’t really have any relationship with her. Most days, he finds her to be an inconvenience… but she’s his inconvenience. And if she’s in trouble… well… He’s already putting his shoes on.

“I mean, there are these guys... Nothing happened!” She says quickly, “Really. I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m probably just… overreacting. I’m, um, hiding in the bathroom right now? It’s fine um. You know what? You’re right, I shouldn’t have called you. Um, I’m sorry for bothering you. I’ll figure it out—”

“What’s the address?” It’s simple. He's on his way.

---

Soon enough, there is a sharp knock against the bathroom door.

“Charlie? Let’s go.”

He takes her in as she staggers in the door frame. Her curly hair is held back by an earthy yellow bandanna, two curls loosely frame her face. She’s in a pair of overall shorts. One of the buttons is undone letting the flap of the overalls hang down revealing her baggy white shirt with a faded picture of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers on the front. She looks up at him, her dark eyes are wide, as if she can hardly believe he’s actually standing there. He’s about a head taller than he should be, so when she suddenly reaches forward, and clings to his arm, her cheek presses into his bicep. His heartrate doubles at the sudden contact. People don’t usually drunk call him, they don’t usually want his help, and they certainly don’t touch him. Instead of shrugging her off, he takes his hand out of his pocket, letting her slide her fingers between his. Her hands aren’t as soft as he thought they might have been.

“I can’t believe you came,” she mumbles into his arm.

“I said I would," it's all he has to say.

They weave through the crowded house. The partygoers are largely too wrapped up in their own revelries to be concerned about some other drunk couple pushing through the crowd. They step outside, the music and chatter from the house muffle as the door shuts behind them. The early fall air is still thick and warm with the remnants of summer. Felix leads her down the porch stairs carefully. They pass a small group of people smoking; they pass a girl crying and being consoled by a friend.

“What did you drive to get here?” She asks once they reach the sidewalk. Cars are lined up on the narrow street.

“I walked.”

“But… do you live close by or…” her sentence fizzles out.

“Not really.”

“You got here so quickly though- Oh. Because you—” she lurches with realization.

“Yeah.”

“You walked here.”

“Yeah,” he repeats. “It was that or ride my bike.”

“Your…”

“Motorcycle," he clarifies. "I barely trust you to walk right now, no chance I was letting you on a bike like this.”

“And now…. Are we… are you…” He sees the thinly veiled apprehension coming off of her.

“No,” He shakes his head before she finishes the question. “The school isn’t that far from here. I can just walk with you… Normally.”

“Oh shit!” she jolts, pulling away from him. He jumps at her sudden movement, looking her over to see what’s wrong. “I can’t go back to the dorms! It’s a dry campus. I’m going to get in so much trouble, oh my gosh, my scholarship. Okay. Not going to freak out. Okay, maybe if you go in and distract them… And I just pretend to be sober,” she straightens her shoulders, “sober face.”

“Well. Maybe don’t say ‘sober face’ when you do that,” he says, eyeing her warily.

“Sober face,” she whispers again.

He works his jaw, walking with her as she stumbles down the sidewalk. The moment stretches quietly between them. Her 'sober face' isn't even slightly convincing.

“Do you want to crash at my place?” He asks, against all of his better judgement.

“Wait, really?”

“I mean. This isn’t worth losing your scholarship over.”

“Thank you, Felix.” She hugs him. Not really knowing what to do, he pats her shoulder until she releases him.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he mumbles, “My house is further away. So, I’m going to have to pick you up,” he warns her.

“That’s… fine,” she says tentatively.

“It’ll only be for like ten, maybe fifteen minutes."

“Okay. I trust you, Felix. That’s why I called you.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. She trusts him. Despite everything, she trusts him. He just looks at her for a moment before nodding and leading her away from the road. He finds somewhere at least semi-secluded before he grows. He doesn’t reach his full height, just large enough to make the journey quick and easy. He lowers his hands down towards her, like he’s coaxing a kitten forward.

“Alright, come on,” he says quietly. She looks like a little doll standing before him. She doesn’t move, she just looks at his hands. “Charlie?”

She looks up at his face, then back to his hands. She takes the smallest step forward, her own hands grasping each other, and pressed against her chest.

“I trust you,” she says again, quieter. This time, he’s pretty sure she’s just trying to convince herself that’s true. Her hands are shaking, despite her clinging so close to herself. 

Usually, he would respond to a look like that with a flair of indignance. You want a monster? You'll get a monster.

Felix frowns. She's so little. So fragile. So stubborn. But despite all that, despite the dim lighting, he can see every detail of her. She eyes the scar on his palm, knowing very well where it came from. She chews the inside of her lip nervously, like she’s trying to work up the courage to put her life in his hands. She hugs her arms to herself to still her trembling. She says she trusts him, but she looks so afraid.

He tries to tell himself she’s just nervous about the heights… but she’s likely remembering what he’s already done to her, that first time they found each other in the clearing. She had caught him on a bad day. He only warned her about ten times that things were going to get ugly. If she wasn’t so bullheaded… besides, he didn’t hurt her. He just… tossed her around a little. It was harmless. And yet, here she is... Looking at him like that. Like at any moment he might grab her, pin her down, dangle her.

But no such feelings come. There is just one thought echoing in his mind right now...

'I'm a hypocrite.'

Felix has always asserted a moral high ground, saying that he would never hurt a mundane. He wouldn't flaunt his power over anyone who wouldn't stand a chance against him. He’s been there. He’s been beneath supers who were needlessly beating down on others just so they could feel strong. He always said he was above that.

And what does he go and do?

This little mundane has the audacity to do something as heinous as trying to care about him, and he tosses her around like a cat with a little stuffed mouse. Never mind the absolute mess with her brothers.

She’s right about him. Whatever horrible thing she might be thinking- She’s right.

Maybe a lot of people are right about him.

Why did it take this moment to make him see that? Not any of the countless visits to the Dean’s office, not being expelled from his fancy academy… But it was Charlie, insisting she trusts him, fighting to trust him… but being unable to make herself actually do it. That’s what got to him.

For once, his initial reaction isn’t anger, it’s not blame, it’s just the chilling realization that… He doesn’t deserve her trust.

His fingers pull back at this realization, and she flinches hard at his sudden movement, like she thinks he’s just going to reach out and snatch her up. Another knife of guilt stabs into him, and he does something he's certain he's never done before- he lets go of his size, quickly shrinking down to normal.

He would typically double down. He's made a decision, he'll see it through. His confidence secure, his judgement final. Releasing his size before he does what he intended to do always felt like admitting defeat. But he can't pick Charlie up right now. Not when she looks at him like that. So, he puts himself back on her level... Or close enough.

“Oh. That’s smart,” she nods, just as willing as he is to pretend that getting her truck is all this is about.

“New plan,” he shakes his head, “We walk to campus, get your truck, and then drive back to my place. That way you have a vehicle tomorrow," it's an easy cover. He wasn't having second-thoughts, he just came up with a better plan.

“I have my keys on me,” Charlie mumbles, fishing through her bag.

The journey back to campus is not too bad. The roads are quiet, and the sidewalks are clear. Charlie holds his hand, and struggles to walk in a straight line, bumping against him, or straying towards the edge of the side walk. He keeps a hold of her hand to reign her in.

She hums whatever fragment of a song is stuck in her head, or she makes idle chatter as she walks along beside him. It's largely incomprehensible, like she's not really talking to him, as much as she's just voicing the thoughts that flit through her mind. From what he gathers, she mostly talks about hiking- trails she's been on and what's nearby. They pass through suburbs and beneath streetlamps before they find themselves in the student parking lot, maybe twenty minute later.

She hands him a set of keys on a faded red carabiner. It has a little green leather pouch with her dorm keycard on it, her truck key, presumably a house key and the key to a mailbox, along with a little string of charms- they look like little mushrooms, flowers and frogs. He helps her in the passenger seat of the old Jeep truck, before shutting the door and climbing in behind the wheel.

“You drive stick right?” She asks, leaning against the window. "I should have asked before."

“Oof. Yeah,” he huffs, “It’s just been a while.”

After a rough start, jolting into gear and promptly stalling the vehicle, he gets the old truck on the road, and takes Charlie back to his place.

[littlelambscandyland]

Four Versus One (Part 3) (A Rocky Start)

Yandere!Cg!Hamato Brothers x Little!Fem!Reader

Notes- SHE'S BAACK~ I can't believe I haven't updated this in almost a year! Guys, Gals, and Pals I am so sorry! Also thank you to everyone who interacted with "Surprise" without y'all I probably wouldn't have realized I posted and hid away for another week lol

Warnings- Kidnapping, Breakdowns, Drugging Mentions, Effects of Drugging, Breaks in Reality, Slightly Abrupt Chapter Ending

Previous Chapter

Your head hurts so much. Colors dance in your eyes and the world spins on its own. Your body felt warm, but your cheeks felt cold. Heavy blankets weigh your already weighted body down; they protect you well from the cold air around you. The room smells like mildew.

Your mind refuses to catch up with itself. Every detail came and passed in your mind at a fast pace. Nothing seemed truly reachable. Not even the why or where stayed in your head too long.

Turning over felt strenuous, but you did it anyway. Why did your bed feel so much softer than you remember? You finally drag yourself forward with great effort. The urge to cry hits you, and it only grows as you realize your surroundings aren't familiar. A sob slips out of your mouth. You stumble out of the bed only to trip on your own feet. Overwhelming emotions eat at your mind. Where are you? What are you supposed to do? Are you safe? Why can't you push these feelings away?

The ground is cold against your knees and hands, and it only increases your dread. Why is the floor so hard? Why did it feel damp? Despite your fear the cold makes you wish you would’ve pulled one of the blankets with you. Of course you didn’t think you’d just fall to the floor. You definitely didn’t think you’d keep falling every time you tried to stand.

With all the overwhelming fear clouding your mind you gave up to sit on the cold ground, shivering and crying.

“Oh no! Oh, no, no!” You hear a boyish voice speak. 

The voice only makes you curl up on the floor in an attempt to hide yourself away. You could hear feet padding through the room closer and closer to you. You didn’t want to face whatever reality this was. You didn’t want to know. You didn’t want any of it.

As soon as a pair of oddly textured arms wrap around you, you start screaming.  It didn’t seem to matter how much you fought you ended up with your face shoved into a hard chest with someone's head sitting on top of yours keeping it from moving. You had no idea who it was; during your flailing and screaming you only caught glimpses of green and orange. Though you were growing more sure the question should be what it was.

“Poor thing~” The voice says, pulling you into an impossibly tighter hold. “I know this is super duper scary, but we’re not going to hurt you. I promise.” The last sentence comes out happy and optimistic, and you're pulled back in its hold with one arm keeping your legs wrapped around its body slightly as they cannot reach around it completely.

Looking up, your brain pauses. This can’t be real. This cannot be real! Your brain is tricking you. Everything floods back too quickly. How could you forget what happened? They came out of a portal! They- They drugged you and abducted you! No… No. No. No! This can’t be happening! It’s not real. It’s not real!

As your breathing increases the turtle, you now recognize as Mikelangelo, pulls you back to cradle you in his arms. Just like from what you remember of the other two, the turtle dwarfed your form quite a bit making it easy for him to move you around despite your stiffness.

“Aww, it’s okay. You’re okay~” He attempts to comfort in a sing-songy tone.

“Dude, what happened?” A new concerned voice starts.

Remembering exactly the situation you’re in you begin to writhe against the box turtles hold again. 

As he balances you in his arms he responds to the other. “I don’t know man. I think she’s just scared.”

“Well of course she’s scared! Her whole world just got flipped upside down. Besides she’s just a baby, she can’t handle this kinda thing. What I meant was, why is she not still in bed? That drug Donnie gave her, she should still be too tired to move.” Ignoring the comments he made, you think you’ve pinned the voice as Raphaels.

“Well, I found her crying on the floor. I couldn't just leave her there just cause she wasn’t supposed to be movin around yet.”

“I didn’t say that. I’m just sayin we should get her back to bed.” The snapping turtle claims.

“Weell~ you should’ve been more specific.”

You continue to struggle as the two bicker. Truly it wasn’t worth the effort in the end. You made no progress getting out of his hold and they were right those drugs really were making you tired, maybe a little dizzy too. The same moment you quit struggling the two stop their back and forth. There’s a beat of silence as they stare at your worn out form attempting to catch your breath from your panicked movements.

A part of you still didn’t believe any of this was real. That part told you this was all just a really bad dream and you were going to wake up and be fine. Then again, dreams don’t normally include waking up in the middle of them, at least, not like this.

You slump against Michelangelo's arms much too tired to keep trying. Your tries at processing this weren’t working. You can hear the two of them coo at how cute you look “all tuckered out”. You can’t make out the words but Raphael whispers something before making his way back over to you both.

“Here, sweetheart, you’ve gotta be thirsty. You humans get dehydrated so quickly! April told us that.” He tells you in a soft happy tone.

As exhausted as you’ve suddenly become you didn’t realize he was holding a straw to your mouth. You didn’t even think twice when the younger one held it to your lips so you could drink it. When the drink did hit your tongue you let out a small hum at the sweet tasting milk. If you knew any better you’d think this was alright, that you were safe, and everything was fine. Sadly, you did know better. 

You were still scared, but a wave of peace was washing its way over you.

Before anything else could occur an uncomfortable realization comes to mind. You were regressing. Slowly slipping given all of the things attacking your sensibilities. Of course it shouldn't be that disturbing, but you haven't regressed in a very long time; after such a large break in reality too. It's been so long, how are you supposed to push it down? You need to get away from here. All the stress, really it was bound to push you here. This is bad. This is so bad. What are you going to do?

You suppose nothing for now, because before the panic could build back up and settle in your eyes slip closed and you fall back to sleep in the mutants arms.

[welldonekhushi]

Silent Decay

Disclaimer: This fic contains content that may be unsuitable for readers uncomfortable with profanity, body horror or grotesque visuals. It is a psychological horror story featuring me and my friends' OCs! Story is all written by me!

The age description to read this fic is 16+ so if you're younger than that, please avoid reading this! Proceed with caution, and enjoy! (Don't worry! You may opt out of this fic if you like, self-care is absolute necessary <3)

Special thanks to @efingcod, @imagoddamnonionmason, and @alypink for allowing me to use their OCs for this collab fic! Park and Adler belong to Black Ops: Cold War, by Treyarch!

MASTERLIST.

PART THREE.

PART TWO

Two days had passed, and everything seemed normal as usual, with Timmy outside the house, somehow on the ground and not eating anything even if Mila already poured the food for him early in the morning. 

However, it was not looking good for Jodie. She could feel the change in herself, slowly. She stepped into the warm shower again, the steam filling the bathroom. When she wiped the mirror clear, she was taken aback by what she saw. The dark circles under her eyes had deepened, and now her skin looked almost translucent, faint veins visible beneath the surface.

Lightly touching her face, turning it sideways for a better glimpse of it. She suddenly got a painful flashback of the basement door, which stings her brain. But instead of being worried about it, she chooses to ignore; thinking that stress may be the sole reason. “It’s just stress. Nothing else, Jay. Get over it.” 

Maybe she was trying to distract herself from how the cough was making her lightly suffer; it feels like it was now choking her. She didn’t want to point it out to anybody. She said she was alright.

Mila went outside to check onto Timmy, only to find that he wasn’t eating. She walks towards the dog and kneels down, gently petting it. “What's going on, Timmy? You’re not hungry?”

Timmy whimpered and looked at Mila, sadly. To cheer him up, Mila came up with an idea. “You’ll come inside and eat with us, is it okay for you?”

Timmy’s eyes lightened up with excitement, drooling as he wagged his tail. Mila giggles and takes off the leash on the log that he was tied on, so she could take him inside for breakfast. She placed the bowl on the laminate flooring, next to their table as Timmy approached closer to his food and started to eat.

Mila calls them down for breakfast with the small bell in her hand. Hearing the faint bell ring, Jodie quickly hides her visible weakness with her long, brunette hair, and makes her way downstairs.

Mila had set the plates, having pancakes with butter and honey for breakfast with fresh coffee. Vincent, as usual, arrived with his usual enthusiasm, ready to devour breakfast, Jodie also joins at the dining table and starts to eat her food, and Timmy who was already distracted by his food. Mila was setting her plate, her attention moved towards the basement door. As much as she tried to convince herself to not think about it, Mila couldn’t.

“Timmy’s eating inside now?” Vincent asked, observing their dog was now joining them to eat in the room.

“I thought if we kept him inside, he’d feel a little better. Perhaps he worries about Jodie's condition.” Mila replied, eating onto her food as she watched Timmy eat in silence.

While eating, Jodie felt an unusual taste to the pancakes, much to her disgust yet bewilderment. “Why is there no sugar in the pancakes?” She asked, her voice edged with confusion.

“No sugar?” Vincent looked at her, confused. “What do you mean? They’ve got honey in them.”

“I don’t know.” Jodie muttered, sighing as she eyed at her food. “I just don’t taste anything sweet.”

Timmy gently wagged his tail, softly whining but not in pain. She let out a small groan and kept eating, forcing down each bite. The food was warm, filling but utterly tasteless. And for some reason, that unsettled her more than she wanted to admit. 

“How’s your health?” Mila asked, despite the little issue Jodie was facing.

“Hm? Yeah, it’s uhm – good so far? I feel like I’m recovering.” She replied while stuffing the pancakes in her mouth. “But my muscles hurt a bit. Since last night they hurt like I got cramps.”

“This happens when you’re sick, so don’t worry about it.” Vincent explained, as he chewed on his pancakes while talking to Jodie.

“But I haven’t even done any exercise for a while now. My body felt so weak that I didn’t even feel like doing it.” Jodie casts her head down, gripping onto the end of the fork as she wonders. “I don’t even feel like doing anything..”

Jodie gulped the liquid forming in her throat, growing nervous. Her eyebrows were knitted, as concern striked through her already weak face, but she masked it well, hiding the growing distress from Mila and Vincent. They didn’t need to know. She couldn’t let them worry.

Jodie continues to eat her pancakes, coughing once more, as Mila and Vince felt pure worry for their little sister. Somehow, Vincent had lost his appetite because he can’t seem to eat freely while seeing his sister in this condition. 

Trying to voice her worry towards her younger sister, Mila finally speaks up. “We can go to the doctor if you wa—”

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine, guys.”

Mila noticed the strain in Jodie’s voice, seeing the way she forced herself to eat, and coughed abnormally. Jodie was always stubborn, always brushing things off, but this? This wasn’t normal, at all.

The breakfast went a bit unsettling, Mila made her way upstairs to her room after cleaning everything up, staring at herself in her dressing mirror for a bit. She tried to set her own hair, and kept a smile, but it didn’t really feel genuine. It felt forced. It felt like she was just trying to smile through the pain but all she wanted was things to go better as soon as possible. 

She couldn’t bear to see her siblings in distress, as being the elderly sister, a lot of responsibilities fell on her shoulder ever since their mother’s death, which did make her sacrifice her happiness for the sake of the other two. Adler’s absence was only making it worse for her to keep living, but the best she could do was to stay strong.

Vincent was in the bathroom, washing his face with water as he rubbed his skin with his fingers, running them up his hair and stared at himself in the mirror too. The water droplets fall through his face, exhaling as the man closely observes his own self. It felt like this man was uncertain, yet helpless of what’s going to happen. It wasn’t just Jodie’s health that gnawed at him. It was everything. The house, the responsibilities, to get to his dream college, the unspoken fears that neither he nor Mila dared to voice. He had always tried to shake it off, to keep moving forward, but the stress always had a way of creeping back in.

He exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the sink. They were all barely holding on. And yet, none of them were willing to admit it. “It’ll be fine, Vincent. You can do this. This isn’t your worst yet. Or.. maybe it is, and I tend to brush it off because I don’t wish anything horrible to happen to our family.” Vincent pursed his lips, holding onto any remaining hope within his own self. 

But, Jodie was going through it as well. Staring at herself in the mirror, the veins and her slightly bloodshot eyes clearly visible on her face. She was confused, yet troubled by what was truly happening to her, yet she chose to believe these symptoms would go away and this sickness is limited to a few days. She’ll be fine, she knows it.

Jodie knew Mila and Vincent were already carrying too much. She didn’t want to add to the weight pressing down on the house. Watching Mila take care of everything, even when she was sick, pretending she was fine, made something shift inside her. Jodie wanted to be strong too. She wanted to share the burden, to be someone Mila could finally lean on, not someone she had to worry about.

She later saw Timmy entering her room, with the medicines that he grabbed with his mouth. Jodie smiles and grabs the tablets from him. “Thank you, hero.” She chuckles and Timmy sits down, looking at Jodie as he wags his tail, seeing her take the medicine tablets and gulping it all with water, sighing as she makes her way to her warm bed.

“Go downstairs, Timmy.. I’ll be back once I wake up.” Resting for the day and for the body, she laid herself on the mattress, sniffing as she closed her eyes, falling into a deep sleep instantly. Timmy stayed there for a few seconds, making sure everything was okay before he went downstairs to check on the others.

The scene had shifted to evening, and Mila had to get groceries because their supply was running low. The quiet of the house seemed heavier, the air thicker with unspoken worries. She glanced at the shelves, realizing just how much they'd been scraping by. They couldn’t afford to fall behind now.

“I’m going to get some items from the store.” Mila said, her voice firm, though it barely masked the tiredness in her eyes. “You stay here and keep an eye on Jodie. She needs more attention than anything.”

Vincent nodded as Mila stepped out, the door creaking slightly before clicking shut behind her. Left alone, he sighed, letting his feet wander aimlessly around the room. His thoughts drifted, his gaze skimming over every object in the house, lingering on old furniture with framed photographs, and slightly worn out paint from the walls. Just then, Timmy entered the room, wagging his tail happily as he saw Vincent. He lightly barked at him, rubbing his head on his leg, asking for attention. The man kneeled down and rubbed his back, as he softly whined.

Mila waited for a cab to come by the road, heading to town to get the groceries. One finally arrived and stepped in the vehicle, as it left for town. While travelling, the vehicle also passed by Aunt Park’s house. Seeing it for a few seconds before she could pass by it, it looked quite silent from the inside. With no lights, or activity. 

With Mila gone, Vincent quickly shut the door, and hurdled up to Adler’s room, opening the door and began to search for the basement keys. 

Through every drawer, cabinets, closet, the table and under the pillow, blanket or bed, his only goal was to find the keys. But then, his attention went towards the family photo that was placed onto the wall. He walks closer, carefully observes it. It had the image of Adler with Jodie, Mila and Vincent as small kids, smiling and hugging their father while they had their photo taken back there. After putting his utmost attention to the frame, he carefully grabs it, and takes it down, finally finding the set of keys that led to the basement.

Grabbing them and placing the frame back in its place, he stepped out of the room, only to find Timmy wagging his tail, patiently waiting for Vince to return.

He shut the door behind him and hurried downstairs, his footsteps light yet urgent. Glancing over his shoulder, he checked if anyone was watching before making his way to the basement. His hands trembled slightly as he unlocked the door, pushing it open with a creak that echoed through the empty house.

Darkness swallowed everything beyond the threshold. Vincent hesitated for a moment but quickly pulled out his flashlight, turning it on. A beam of light cut through the void.

“You stay here, okay?” he whispered, placing a firm hand on Timmy’s head before stepping inside alone.

The entrance led to a short staircase descending into the basement. He moved carefully, placing each foot down with caution, avoiding any creaks that might betray his presence.

Once below, he swept his flashlight across the space. Rows of storage boxes lined the shelves, old childhood toys, forgotten belongings, stacks of things that should’ve been mundane. But as his gaze lingered, unease settled in his gut.

If this was just a couple of storage, why did Russell spend so much time down here?

Unlike the rest, Vincent was the one to notice Russell often going down the basement for HOURS, giving excuses that he has to arrange the shelves, or figure out which items in there need to be thrown. No matter how many times they've asked him about it, Adler never revealed anything.

Now, that it's time, the man would do anything to know what's going on.

As Vincent was busy exploring the whole basement, delving deeper into the large, abandoned room which was never properly taken care of, covered in dust and cobwebs, could start to feel the uneasiness around his surroundings. His attention was mostly towards the walls of the basement, something which caught his immediate attention.

BURN IT ALL.

Growing closely to the source, he ran his flashlight towards the surface, reading something that was written and creased all over it in bold letters. “Burn it.. all?”

While studying what was over the wall, a sharp, metallic crash echoed through the basement, cutting through the silence like a knife. Vincent flinched, his whole body jolting in reaction as a shiver ran down his spine. The dull vibration still filled through the room, before everything fell still again. 

His breath hitched. His grip tightened around the flashlight. Something had fallen.

He slowly ran the light toward the source, spotting a round container tipped over, an unusual red substance spilling out. At first, it seemed like a can of paint fell over. But as he stepped closer..

"Gasp!" Vincent loudly gasped as he clenched his chest.

Organs. Guts spilled across the floor, glistening under the flashlight. The stench of blood and bile filled the air, making his stomach twist. No matter how hard he tried to forget, the sight before him was something he could never have imagined, something he could never erase from his mind.

“W-w-what the..” While he started to back off and make his way out of the basement, he suddenly tripped over something and when he looked at it, Vincent screamed and slapped his mouth, leaning onto one of the shelves of the basement in horror as he watched a dead, rotting body. 

The body was completely ripped off, with the flies wandering over it with the odor being extremely foul. Its ribcage was exposed but broken, its insides empty, leaving it hollow. Vincent covered his nose, trying to block out the overwhelming stench as he panted in fear, his eyes widened. He felt like retching, as he couldn’t believe what he just witnessed through his own eyes.

Vincent's hands trembled as his mind raced. His eyes locked onto the horrific imagery he has just witnessed. It raised a question in him, was Adler been hiding something this gruesome like this this whole time? So, was the ghost in the basement all a hoax to—

A thick liquid dripped onto Vincent’s shoulder. He hesitated before touching it, rubbing the dark, sticky substance between his fingers. The color was deep black, its texture unsettling. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, unsure of what it was, until the same liquid dripped onto his hair. At that moment, he heard a low, menacing snarl. His eyes widened as he scanned his surroundings, glancing left and right. Slowly, he lifted his head, pointing his flashlight upward to reveal the source above him, clinging to the ceiling.

It was a twisted, emaciated figure, its limbs unnaturally long and thin, stretched tight against its skeletal frame. Black, mottled skin clung to its body, and its face was hollow, with empty eyes with a dot-white pupil, and a jagged grin full of sharp, blood-tainted teeth. Its movements were jerky, as if its body wasn’t meant to bend that way. It screeched loudly at Vincent, as the light hit it, the creature recoiled, its body jerking violently.

Vincent stumbled back, falling to the floor in panic as he hyperventilated in shock. He scrambled to his feet, heart pounding, and bolted toward the exit, desperate to escape the nightmare lurking behind him.

Vincent ran through the path, passing through every single corner of the room while the beast followed him in a monstrous frenzy, snarling and screeching as it tried to catch onto the man. He ran as fast as he could, almost arriving at the exit but he accidentally tripped on an object which was lying on the floor, making him land on the hard, dusty surface on the ground. 

He struggled to get up, grunting and panting to move his legs but he felt the creature grab onto them as he loudly screamed. It started to pull his leg towards him, dragging him into the darkness that his pants started to rip off. His nails scraped against the floor, trying to make his escape.

But just as things turned dire, Timmy bolted into the basement, sinking his teeth into the creature’s arm. It let out a blood-curdling scream, jerking its limb away in pain. The brief struggle gave Vincent just enough time to escape.

With Timmy’s help, the creature was thrown off balance for a moment, giving Vincent the chance to sprint toward the exit. As he burst through the doorway, the monster lunged after him with a demonic scream, but he slammed the door shut just in time, trapping it inside.

Vincent struggled to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling fast with uneven gasps. The adrenaline still pulsed through his veins, his body trembling from the encounter. Slowly, he sank to the floor, his back pressing against the door as he tried to steady himself, his mind racing with what he had just seen.

Timmy sniffed at him, nudging his arm as if to check if he was okay. Vincent slowly opened his eyes, meeting the retriever’s concerned gaze, its tail wagged gently.

With a shaky breath, he reached into his pocket for the keys, only to find nothing. His stomach dropped. He patted his pocket again, digging deeper, but it was empty.

“W-what the hell? The.. the keys?” His voice wavered as panic settled in. He frantically checked his other pockets, his hands growing unsteady. But no matter how many times he searched, they were gone.

“S-shit! Where did they g—”

And then it hit him.

The memory flashed in his mind, the moment he had truly lost them.

It was replayed in his head. The creature lurking above, its twisted form clinging to the ceiling. The second he had stumbled back in terror, the keys had been slipped from his pocket. And he hadn’t even noticed because the fear clouded his eyes.

“.. n-no.. no no no no!” He clenched onto his head. “What have I done? What the hell have I done? Mila’s gonna be pissed.. but.. but not just her. Dad.. fuck, h-he’s gonna kill me.” His face expressed his distress and uncomfortability. “But whatever I saw.. it was.. no. This can’t be true. Hope this isn’t—”

RING RING!

The sharp chime of the telephone shattered the silence. Vincent flinched, his breath catching in his throat. His head snapped toward the sound, heart pounding. Timmy’s attention went towards the telephone, as he started to bark loudly again. “The telephone lines are back?”

Feeling relieved it was just the telephone call, hoping the one contacting him must be their father. He knew the communication signals were a bit disturbed here in the location they lived in, reaching for the phone, and pulls the receiver back to his ear.

There was a low, eerie hum. It was as if someone, or something was listening in, but not on the other end of the line. It was just static, yet it felt alive. Vincent's voice came out faint, laced with hesitant curiosity.

“H-hello?”

“You shouldn't have done that.” A groggy, hazy and whispery voice was heard through the communication static of the phone.

“W-what?” He stuttered. “W-who are you?”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“D-done what? Is this.. is this some sick joke?” Vincent was driving himself angry so he could face the one on the telephone. “W-what do you want?”

“Death is your only answer.”

His hands started to tremble while holding the phone in his hands, as the voice filled through his ear, and then into his head. "S-stop.."

“Die.”

"Please stop.. I'm-I'm begging you." Vincent's breath became shaky.

The voice kept growing louder and louder from the speaker.

“Die.”

“Die.”

“Die.”

“DIE.”

“DIE!”

“DIE!”

Vincent quickly slammed the phone back, ridden with fear, dread filled through his body. Sweat trickled down his forehead, his gaze snapped toward the staircase leading to Jodie’s room. A suffocating wave of anxiety gripped him, dread twisting deep in his gut. Without hesitation, he rushed upstairs, his footsteps heavy against the wooden floor.

He pushed open the door forcefully, his breath ragged, seeing Jodie undisturbed, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Peaceful and safe. Recovering as she rests.

He couldn’t seem to flush that memory away from him. It had completely traumatized him, and likely.. put him in constant doubt about Russell’s reason for keeping that “thing” in the basement.

His fingers curled into fists at his sides. Maybe he was just imagining things. Maybe exhaustion was playing tricks on him. He tore his gaze away from Jodie’s sleeping form, running a hand down his face. “I hope Mila comes back quickly..”

Shutting the door, he sighs and walks away, going downstairs quickly to shut the basement door tightly, with anything to not make it look obvious, since Vincent had dropped the keys in there, by accident. After he was done, he turned around and pushed his back against the door, throwing his head back as he sighed, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

Couple of hours later, Mila returned home with the groceries, the sound of the door clicking shut as Vincent, who fell asleep with the television still on, woke up abruptly and turned sharply, seeing her sister coming back, relief washing over him. At least now they had enough supplies to last a couple of weeks, one less thing to worry about. Timmy came and licked Mila’s face, happy to see her again.

“How’s Jodie holding up?” Mila asked as Timmy continued to lick her face.

“She’s.. she’s fine. She’s just resting. She took her medicine before going to sleep.” Vincent replied, rubbing his hair nervously, looking upstairs again. Mila makes her way to the kitchen, sets the bags down on the kitchen counter as she observes Vincent’s face. 

“You okay? You look a bit pale.”

He hesitated, glancing back at the telephone, and the basement. The memory of the voice still clung to him like a shadow, but he forced a nod, not wanting to reveal about the lost keys, or the monster in there. “Nothing.. j-just tired. But I’m fine!”

“Wait, and what’s with your leg?” Mila pointed out at the ripped pants, much to Vincent’s horror.

“U-uh, it was Timmy! He played with me too rough, t-that.. that made him rip off my pants. He’s really a menace huh?” He chuckled nervously, hoping Mila would believe him but she just sighed and rolled his eyes, walking away.

“Let’s just get the dinner sorted. You call Jay downstairs.” Vincent watched Mila leave, as he sighed and looked at Timmy, who held a disappointed look at him.

“Don’t look at me. I did what was necessary. But hey.. thanks for saving my life.” Vincent smiles, but then was left in a wonder about that monstrous entity in the basement, as he still stared at that door, closely.

The dinner went on as usual, the clinking of utensils filling the quiet room. Jodie sat with them at the table, her presence almost ghostly. She ate, but her movements were mechanical and utterly detached. She barely looked up, her eyes fixed on her plate, chewing without really tasting the food. Timmy also silently ate the food, like the rest but not with that usual enthusiasm he used to have with him before.

Vincent stole a glance at her, a flicker of concern crossing his face. Something was off. It wasn’t just tonight, Jodie had been like this for a while now. Distant. Unreachable. Like she was slipping away into a place none of them could follow.

Mila, too, noticed. She opened her mouth as if to say something but hesitated, instead quietly pushing the bowl of vegetables toward Jodie. A small gesture.

Jodie noticed Mila pushing the bowl next to her, to which she knew she had no strength but gently smiled at her sister and took some of the salad on her plate, much to their relief. Even Timmy was glad that Jodie was finally having the courage to eat.

Jodie finishes her food, and makes her way upstairs, without saying anything. Mila and Vincent grab the plates and utensils, taking care of the rest before they go to sleep as well. As they two were finished, Mila placed a comforting hand on Vincent’s shoulder, telling him to be strong. Mila puts Jodie to bed, cuddling her warm after giving her her medicine, turning off the light and closing the door, seeing Vincent out waiting for her.

“Even if she’s recovering, I think we should take her to a doctor tomorrow.” Vincent shook her head, absolutely worried about Jodie. “I don’t even feel like talking about this to Dad.”

“Don’t worry. She’s doing well. If it gets worse, we will take her to a doctor tomorrow.”

“I don’t know.. I’m just too worried for her at this moment. What if Dad found out? That’ll devastate him.” Vincent replied.

Mila sighed, her hand lingering on Vincent’s shoulder. “I know you’re worried, but I am too, Vince.” she admitted softly. “We have to do something. We can’t just sit and wait for things to get worse.”

Vincent ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening. “It’s not just worry, Mila. It’s..” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s like she’s not even here anymore. Like she’s just.. existing.” His voice lowered.

Mila squeezed his shoulder, comforting him. “You’re exhausted. It’s been a long day. Get some sleep, okay?”

He wanted to argue, to tell her that something about all of this was deeply wrong, but instead, he just nodded. Mila offered a small, tired smile before heading toward her room.

Vincent stood there for a moment, staring at the darkened hallway leading to Jodie’s room. He could still hear that whisper echoing in his mind.

Something wasn’t right.

The night was still, save for the distant chirping of crickets outside the window. The moon cast a pale glow over the house, its light creeping through the curtains. Everyone was fast asleep, her breathing was slow and steady, already looking as if maybe Jodie was finally recovering. Everything seemed peaceful until now, but the worst was about to begin, as if something had finally awakened.

The doorknob of the basement started to rattle, with the door also shaking, as if it was trying to open itself. The pin Vincent used to lock the door in its place, started to tremble.

She started to feel a little uneasy while being laid on her bed, as if something was churning inside her stomach, slightly growling and gurgling. Timmy suddenly opened his eyes, slowly as something made him have the urge to bark, facing the entrance of the door but he was leashed which made him unable to move.

It was hard to tell who, or what had emerged from the deadly basement, that Vincent barely escaped from. The figure crawled silently, as it made its way up the stairs, each step echoing quietly in the stillness of the house. Mila and Vincent were fast asleep oblivious to all. Checking their rooms first in the hallway, it drew its way through one specific room; Jodie’s.

The pin fell on the ground, with a clink, rolling away from the door, as the entrance creaked open.

Reaching her door, it carefully unlocked it, creaking it open, and sliding inside without a sound. The room was dark, only having the moonlight as the light source.

Jodie lay asleep, still unaware of the presence which had just entered her room. The figure crawled onto the bed, almost blending with the shadows. It stopped just above her, watching her steady breathing, as still as death itself.

It waited. And waited. Till it disappeared.

Her body began to involuntarily tremble, which weren’t even natural shivers, but something abnormal and inhuman. Visions of the basement door, multiplying cells, a heart pumping blood rapidly, the teeth of a carnivore, and a wolf devouring a deer, blood on its mouth as it stared at her.

“LET ME IN.”

She wakes up in pure shock, loudly gasping as she breathes for air, sweat covering her face. Her vision started to go blurry, and her ears began to ring. Her heartbeat thumped loudly, growing panicked. 

“N-no.. this can’t be happening..” Feeling dizzy, she wanted to get off the bed quickly to check what was going on, but as she did, she fell on her feet, landing on the ground and groaning in pain. She coughed again, but this time, it didn't feel dry. She abnormally coughed again, her chest heaving up and down. 

She felt like retching, for which she immediately got up on her feet and ran to the bathroom to excrete the matter that was currently disturbing her insides. Her eyes clenched with tears as she struggled to vomit, finding out that the vomit didn’t even taste like acid.

Her chest hurt, and her lungs felt collapsed. She opened her eyes, staring down horrifyingly at the sink to see that her body didn’t only vomit the juices of her own stomach.

But black acid.

Jodie’s breath ragged, the black blood dripping down her lips as she looked at herself deteriorating, with the vision in her eyes slowly blurring. Despite seeing the terrifying conclusion to her sickness, her mind felt like collapsing, with very little sanity left in her breaking apart as she saw her condition. 

Jodie couldn’t help but unexpectedly grin at the mirror, her teeth covered with the blood, and laughed as it dripped down her mouth. She giggled hysterically, feeling as if her body had started to reject the life inside her, before letting out a guttural groan and retching out more blood from her insides, as the scene went all black, unknown to what was coming.

END OF PART TWO.

Taglist (opt in/opt out): @ctxinari @liamthemailman @islandtarochips @imjustsocute @ladysouthpaw1213 @mutant-okuri-inu @burnatnight @fitzycoffee @iamcautiouslyoptimistic @aroserinosman @kingofowlsandcards @writercloves @alexa-mwll

[magical-girl-coral]

💕 for the ask game.... narabees please my leige.....it can be as cutesy or them being awful for eachother as you want... go crazy

Gonna make this a part two to the last fic I wrote you for about them

Send me emoji(s) and I'll write a drabble

"EVERYONE, IT'S TIME TO PLAY SPIN THE BOOOOOOOOOTTTTTTTTLE!"

Nara woke up from her little trance thanks to some lunatic with a megaphone in one hand and an empty wine bottle in the other, forcing her to wake up back to the real world where a very wet Kristen was now grinning even more wildly than before.

"Spin the bottle? We's fucking miss this!" She jumped out of the pull and grabbed Nara by the arm (great goddess her muscles were glistening and flexing), making them both bolt straight into the manor. "Last time this happened, Aelwyn got jumped on by Ivy, Gorgug made out with Oisin three times and Adaine got her kisses in from five different lesbians. You're gonna love it!"

Nara's face was beyond on fire. It was molten lava. "Wait, wait, I'm not ready for this-!"

But it was too late by then. Next thing Nara knew, she was sitting in the circle with the most beautiful women she has ever seen and some okay to decent looking men. Looking at Fabian hurt her though. She was sure he was a lesbian when they met and that fact is going to haunt for the rest of her life.

Said host was also standing over them with the wine bottle and the authority of a battle master. "Alright, here's the rules; if a bottle is cocked and landed on two people, we roll it again as threesomes are not in the rule book. In this house, we honor the cock."

From somewhere near them, Nara heard the groans of a tired goblin.

"Secondly, if two people got horned up from a make out session, please leave to use one of the empty bedrooms upstairs. We know you think you hide can your boners well. I can safely say you cannot."

An embarrassed blue dragonborn from the left of her blushed and coughed into his fist.

"And finally, if you are in a committed monogamous relationship, you have no right to be surprised if your partner comes over pissed off. You have crossed a line neither of you discussed before so this is fully on you. Are we good?"

Everyone agreed with him.

"Good. Now as your wonderful host, I shall be the one to spin and quickly leave because my girlfriend isn't here and I need to go sulk somewhere private with The Ball. Enjoy yourself to all!"

And with that, the game was on.

The first few rounds weren't too bad. The bottle landed between Ragh and Gorgug with Mary Ann giving a thumbs up as they made out. It landed next on Lucy and Ivy, who gave each other a quickly friendly kiss before departing. Afterwards it landed on Oisin (the blue dragonborn apparently) and Ruben, with the former jumping on top of the wizard and landing in a good comedic theatrical kiss.

Nara laughed with the rest of the ground, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders.

Until the bottle of course had to land between her and Kristen.

Cause why the fuck not?

Kristen shifted in her seat, the top of her shoulders blushing with her face. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to. It's just a game after all."

Nara glared at her. First she stole her girlfriend, now she's poking at her pride?

Oh it's on.

Nara stood up, walked to Kristen, grabbed her by the back of her stupid head and smacked their lips together hard enough for it to echo across the first floor.

During the fifteen seconds of their kiss, Nara had control over the movement of their lips. She decided where to move what and where to how they both like it. During that time, Kristen gently cupped Nara's cheek with delicacy that would have angered her more if it didn't feel so nice. By the time they were done, Kristen was on her back, her pupils were fully dilated and her lips looked plump and pink.

Nara stood up and dusted her dress. "I believe I proved my point. If you don't mind, I shall excuse myself for the rest of the evening."

She left without bothering to hear what the others had to say, going around the manor and finally finding a room that didn't smell of alcohol, drugs or sex.

She closed the door shut and flung herself onto the bed, screaming as loud as she could into the bed until her vocal cords gave out. She then gathered herself together and knelt by the window, crossing her hands together in prayer as she stared at the moon.

"Great goddess of the moon, the wolves and of my heart. She who lights our way in our darkness nights, guides us through the blackest hour, and feels our heart with hope, please do not let me fall in love with this fucking disaster of a lesbian."

[apocalypticdemon]

one of my kitties has baby's first vet appointment tomorrow (won't eat and threw up overnight :( ) but they've both been playing a bit! confident little lads, they are.

they're both very cuddly. I had hoped for affectionate cats, but the babies like. Straight up do not get off my lap. I've been awake for 5 hours and the whole time I've been in the room one of them has begged for lap time. I'm love them