#i’d climb in but i’m too weak

[frnkiebby]

I AM GOING TO SOB~🎃

[petew21-blog]

Homophobic gym teacher

I hate PE. I hate it so freaking much that I’d rather have history with Mr. Douglas every day than to run in front of Mr. Mills every day. He hates me, ever since I came out as gay at school I received mostly good feedback from others. Even my bullies were kinda nice about it. Thank God I live in the twenty first century. But one person didn’t really take It well.

I browsed through his instagram a few times. And while I looked for the perfect photo of him flexing his biceps, showing his abs or anything that would help me for my jerk off session, I found out that he was quite hardcore republican. How a person like this could get into education is beyond me.

As always I finished jerking off while looking at his regular bathroom gym photo. Man, what I would give to fuck him. Why do jerks always have the perfect body?

My phone buzzed. I snapped back into reality. Jack, my friend who is also gay, but not out yet, texted me.

“Hey, are we gonna ditch school tomorrow? I can’t hear any more of that Mills bullshit while we climb the rope”

“We’re gonna be rope climbing? Ah fuck me. He’s gonna be insufferable.”

“My thoughts exactly. So? Are we skipping school?”

“I can’t man. I gotta keep up my attendance after missing so many days thanks to Mr. Mills”

Next day, 2:29 PM

I stood next to the rope, waiting for Jake to finish his turn. Mr. Mills stood below him, screaming. Jake couldn’t get to the top. Mr. Mills told him to get down and screamed at him some more. What an asshole. It was my turn. The bell rang. “Fuck yeah. No more rope climbing for me.” My classmates, me included, turned to head to the lockers.

Mr. Mills: ”González? Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Me: ”Sir, the class is over and it’s Friday.”

Mr. Mills: ”The class is over when I say it is over. Get on the fucking rope and stop talking back at me. The rest of you can leave.”

I got close to the rope. I grabbed it and squeezed the rope between my feet. I started pulling myself up and immediately felt the pain of lifting myself. I knew I was weak, I didn’t really need some wannabe teacher slash gym freak to remind me and scream at me what a lazy piece of shit I am. I tried to ignore him. I gave myself a goal to just finish it and leave, but Mr. Mills stood directly below me to comment on my fat ass slowing me down.

I was almost at the top, a wave of happiness swept over me. “Shit, I’m gonna make it!”

And right then I slipped. And instead of locking my feet, I just let go off the rope.

THUD

“I survived. Fuck. I fell from the freaking rope. My head was hurting so hard. My head? But I thought that I fell on my back? Ahhh the pain.”

I opened my eyes. My vision was blurry from the fall. I tried blinking several times and my vision was slowly getting better. I lifted my arm to grab on my head, but as I did it didn’t feel right. I looked at my arm. It was bigger. As in full of muscles.

“What the hell?” I said out loud, but instead of my young squeaky almost too feminine voice a low baritone came out of my throat.

“How the fuck…?!” I looked to my left. There was my body getting up from the ground

Me: ”Mr. Mills?”

Mr. Mills: ”Ah you gotta be fucking kidding me?! Is that you González?”

Me: ”I… Yes. How… How did this happen?” Mr. Mills: ”Does it look like this happens to me a lot?”

Me: ”But… it’s scientifically impossible”

Mr. Mills: ”I bet this was caused by those covid vaccines to make you immigrant fags take over our lives.”

Me: ”Yeah… right. Cause everyone wants to be a stupid republican”

Mr. Mills: ”Shut your mouth or…” he was interrupted by the janitor telling us to leave so he can lock the school. Mr. Mills gave me his car keys and I gave him instructions how to find my locker. We decided to meet each other in his car and to figure out what to do after that.”

After many unsuccessful attempts I found his Chevrolet and entered the passenger’s seat. Few moments later, I realized that I’m gonna be the one driving so I switched seats and got behind the wheel for the first time in my life. His car was amazing, it smelt great and was clean. How should I even drive this thing? I don’t drive a car. I’ll get us into trouble.

I stopped overthinking about the car. “I am in my teachers body. The one who bullied me almost every day. I am an adult male.” I looked into the rearview mirror. “Fuck, I am in one of the hottest man’s body around. And I am wasting it just worrying here. I flexed and squeezed my new biceps. Fuuuck. It’s so huge. I checked if no one else was around and lifted up my shirt.

“Oh my gooood” I slammed my head into the seat. “This is so hot!”

My new abs and pecs now uncovered were the most perfect ones I have ever seen. The ones I jerk off to every night before sleep. And now it’s here. All for me.

I opened my eyes and saw Mr. Mills in my body approaching the car. And behind him ran Jake. They entered the car.

I tried to improvise: „Why is your friend here?”

Jake: „Holy shit. So it is true. Mr. Mills would never react so calm. Is that really you in there, Daniel?”

I turned at Mr. Mills who now had a very irritated face. “I didn’t say anything, he figured it out.”

Jake: „I didn’t believe it at first, but Daniel never swears like this. And your vocabulary isn’t exactly rich so I knew really quickly where I heard the phrases before. Damn, I’m good. So? What are we gonna do? We should test it out somehow. Shit, Daniel you should get drunk tonight!”

Mr. Mills: „No! There won’t be no drinking, touching or anything with my body. This is definitely temporary and we will be back by tomorrow morning.”

Me: „If you think so…”

I drove Jake and my body home. Mr. Mills had to give me a speed course of driving, but his muscle memory helped me out way more than I thought. We set up some ground rules. No drinking, no drugs, no permanent changes to our bodies, no photos and no sex. He left the car while saying something about a fag in his body, but I couldn’t care less anymore. I speeded to get to his house asap.

I didn’t really explore the house as much when I arrived. I went straight to where I thought was the bedroom and immediately started taking off my clothes. His black speedo was PACKING and getting tighter every minute, but I really wanted to make this first exploration as perfect as possible. I lifted up the shirt, touching my new hairless and fatless stomach. I flexed and sets of abs appeared. I touched every last one of them. My hand continued up to my new large pecs.

“God damn, Mr. Mills. These are some perfect man titties.” I squeezed them. They looked so tight in all the photos, but when I wasn’t flexing them, they were quite soft. Must be amazing to lay on these. I played with them some more before taking off my shirt and releasing my new hairy pits. I took a long whiff off them. “I smell like a proper MAN now!” I licked it as well, enjoying the salty taste of Mr. Mills’s pits. I looked at myself in the mirror. My new dick was hard as a rock and waited for me to take care of it.

I headed to the shower and turned on a hot water. “Your body is probably not used to a hot water, am I right, Mr. Mills? I bet you are one of those cold water freaks who bathe in the icy waters.” I hated his voice before, but right now as I was controlling it, I began to like it so much.

The water poured all over my large body, from the perfect face, over my massive pecs, hairless abs and right to my beautiful dick. “Nice dick, Mr. Mills!” I said and chuckled over the fact that I just said that.

I suddenly got a mischievous idea. I came out of the shower and texted Jake.

Jake: „I can’t believe I’m doing this. I am just squeezing Mr. Mills’s pecs and touching his abs. Can you believe it, Daniel?”

Me: „It’s wild, right? But I got an idea. Wanna make it more interesting?”

Jake: „Interesting how?”

Me: „Stop touching me you lazy fag” I said in an authoritative voice and Jake moved his hands away from me quickly.

Jake: „Why did you do that? I got scared.”

Me: „I bet you are scared, you little fag. I know you just came over so that you could jerk off you little dick and watch me enjoy myself.”

Jake: „Daniel?”

Me: „Daniel won’t save you right now. You will do as I say. Ok?”

Jake finally caught up to my roleplay scenario and started acting as well. And by the look of his face I knew that he was really into it.

Jake: „Yes, Mr. Mills. I will do whatever you say.”

I sat down on the couch watching. “I want you to admire my body and say how hot I am and how horny it makes you.”

Jake got his hands on MY body and got a bit nervous: „You have sexy abs, Mr. Mills.”

Me: „You think that’s enough? That they are just sexy?”

Jake: „I think they’re the hottest abs I have ever seen”

Me: „How about my biceps. You like them?”

Jake: „They are SO big. I want you to squeeze my head in them. I want to lick your armpit hair. I want to kiss you.”

Me: „That’s a good boy. How about you show me how good you are, you fag?”

I moved his hands over to my new hard crotch.

Jake smiled and licked his lips

I fucking love being in this body.

And I bet Jake’s ass is gonna love this body even more.

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/petew21-blog/780674479706734592/homophobic-gym-teacher-part-2?source=share

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

HIM & I

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: rafe confronts the pogues after they try to get his girl to turn on him—big mistake.

based on this ask !! sorry it took a while anon, but i hope you enjoy it and it’s what you asked for :) got a couple request in the drafts stm, just editing them and i’m gonna’ start posting them one after the other <3

(check out my other drew starkey & rafe cameron works here !!)

WARNINGS: cursing, rafe threatening the pogues, mentions of murder, maybe a sliiightly toxic relationship (?), alcohol consumption. (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

THIRD PERSON +

The summer heat hung heavy in the air, thick with salt and gasoline, the scent of the Outer Banks. The island was split in two—the Kooks, who had everything, and the Pogues, who had nothing. And in the middle of it all stood Y/N, Rafe Cameron’s girl.

Not just his girlfriend. His obsession.

Rafe wasn’t known for being soft. Not with his father breathing down his neck, not with his so-called friends who only stuck around for the drugs and money, and certainly not with the Pogues, who were a thorn in his side. But Y/N—she was different. She was the only thing in this world that could make Rafe pause, the only thing he couldn’t bring himself to destroy.

He was still reckless, still dangerous, still a ticking time bomb—but with Y/N, he was something else too. Soft, almost. Not in the way that made him weak, but in the way that made him even more dangerous. Because if anything ever happened to her, he would burn this island to the ground.

They were inseparable, always tangled up in each other, whether it was his arm slung over her shoulders at a party, his lips trailing down her neck when no one was looking, or the way she fit perfectly against him when he finally let himself rest.

Y/N would do anything for Rafe. And he’d do anything for her.

So when the Pogues pulled her aside one afternoon, she already knew there was no world in which she would betray Rafe Cameron.

They had found her alone near The Wreck, waiting for Rafe to pick her up. Pope was the first to speak. “Y/N, listen, we need your help.”

She raised an eyebrow, already uninterested. “With what?”

“Proving John B’s innocence,” Kie said.

Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms. “You’re joking, right?”

They weren’t.

“Rafe killed Peterkin,” Pope said, low and serious. “We know it. And we know you know it too.”

“Sarah saw him,” Kie added. “We just need something—anything—that proves it wasn’t John B.”

“You don’t have to protect him,” JJ said, his tone a little different from the others. He wasn’t pleading with her, wasn’t trying to reason. He was taunting. “I mean, come on, Y/N, you think Rafe would do the same for you?”

That made her blood boil.

“You don’t know anything about me and Rafe,” she snapped.

“Then prove it,” JJ challenged. “Help us, and I’ll believe it.”

Y/N let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “You actually think I’d turn on him? That I’d betray my Rafe for you?” She took a step closer, her voice venomous. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m not afraid of Rafe. I love him. And if you think for a second that I’d help you take him down, you’re out of your goddamn minds.”

She left them standing there, stunned, and walked away without looking back.

Rafe was waiting for her in his truck, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other tapping against his knee impatiently. He relaxed the second he saw her, his sharp features softening, his whole body exhaling in relief.

“Where the hell were you?” he asked as she climbed in.

“Talking to the Pogues,” she said, her voice laced with irritation.

Instantly, Rafe’s expression darkened. “What?”

“They tried to get me to help them prove John B’s innocent.”

Rafe went still.

It was a terrifying kind of stillness, the kind that came before a storm. His grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white.

“They what?” His voice was calm, but she knew him too well to be fooled.

“They think I’d turn on you,” she said, shaking her head, almost laughing at the absurdity of it. “That I’d help them prove you killed Peterkin.”

That was all it took.

Rafe let out a sharp, bitter laugh, one that sent chills down her spine. “That’s fucking hilarious,” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “They actually thought you’d betray me?”

His laugh faded just as quickly as it came. His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared, and that familiar rage flickered to life behind his blue eyes.

“They think they can talk to my girl,” he said, his voice dark and dangerous. “That they can turn you against me?”

She could see the storm brewing inside him, the way his fingers twitched like he was itching to grab something—someone. His knee bounced violently, and his breathing was slow, controlled, like he was trying not to explode.

Y/N reached over, placing her hand over his. “I shut them down,” she murmured. “They’re idiots if they ever thought I’d turn on you.”

Rafe exhaled through his nose, his knee stopping its frantic movement. He grabbed her hand, gripping it tightly.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and possessive. “They don’t get to talk to you. They don’t get to look at you. They don’t even get to fucking think about you.”

Y/N leaned in, her lips brushing against his jaw. “Then make sure they don’t,” she whispered.

Rafe turned his head, his lips crashing against hers in a bruising, desperate kiss. He kissed her like he was staking his claim, like he needed to feel her, taste her, to remind himself that she was here, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

When he pulled away, his eyes were still burning with fury.

“They’re gonna regret ever coming near you,” he muttered.

Y/N didn’t doubt it for a second.

—

The Boneyard was alive with the pulse of heavy bass and the crash of waves against the shore. Fires burned bright, illuminating the faces of Kooks and Pogues alike, their rivalries momentarily drowned in the haze of alcohol and summer heat. But that peace wouldn’t last.

Not tonight.

Because Rafe Cameron had a score to settle.

He stood at the top of the dunes, looking down at the crowd like a king surveying his kingdom. His jaw was clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides. Y/N stood beside him, her lips curled into a smirk, arms crossed casually over her chest. She knew what was about to happen—hell, she’d been waiting for it just as much as he had.

“You ready?” Rafe asked, voice low, eyes burning.

She turned to him, expression playful. “Always.”

Rafe smirked, but there was no humor behind it. Just something dark and volatile, barely contained. Then he was moving, striding down the dunes with the confidence of someone who owned this entire island.

Heads turned as he passed. Kooks raised their cups, cheering for their golden boy, oblivious to the rage simmering just beneath the surface. But the Pogues? They stiffened the second they saw him.

John B, JJ, Pope, and Kie were gathered near the fire, deep in conversation, but the second Rafe and Y/N approached, they all fell silent.

JJ was the first to react, straightening up and rolling his shoulders back like he was ready for a fight. “Oh, look,” he drawled, taking a swig from his beer. “Kook Prince and his loyal queen.”

Y/N scoffed, but Rafe barely acknowledged the remark. His eyes were locked on them, sharp and unrelenting.

“Which one of you dumbasses thought it was a good idea to talk to my girl?” he asked, voice deceptively calm.

John B tensed. Kie shifted uncomfortably. Pope kept his mouth shut.

JJ, of course, grinned. “You mean about you, uh, murdering someone?”

Rafe laughed—a sharp, humorless sound. “That’s funny,” he said, tilting his head. “You know what else is funny? Thinking Y/N would ever betray me.”

JJ’s smirk faltered for just a second before he masked it with bravado. “I don’t know, man. She seems smart enough to know when she’s on the losing side.”

Y/N let out a laugh, stepping closer, brushing against Rafe’s side. “You’re delusional if you think there’s any world in which I’d choose you over Rafe,” she said. “I mean, come on, JJ. Are you really that desperate?”

JJ’s jaw clenched, but before he could say anything, Rafe took another step forward, closing the distance.

“You don’t talk to my girl,” he said, voice dropping to something low and dangerous. “You don’t look at my girl. You don’t even fucking think about her. Understand?”

JJ, never one to back down, scoffed. “Or what?”

Rafe’s eyes darkened, his smirk returning, but this time it was cold, calculated. “You don’t ‘wanna find out.”

There was a pause, thick with tension.

JJ met Rafe’s stare head-on, but for the first time, there was something hesitant in his gaze.

Rafe had always been unhinged. Dangerous. But this? This wasn’t just some Kook/Pogue rivalry. This was personal.

And when it came to Y/N, there was no line Rafe wouldn’t cross.

John B finally spoke, stepping between them. “We don’t want any trouble.”

Rafe let out a short, mocking laugh. “Yeah? Then you should’ve kept your mouths shut.”

The Kooks were starting to notice now, whispers spreading, eyes darting toward the confrontation. It wouldn’t be long before the whole party knew.

“You think you’re untouchable,” JJ muttered, shaking his head.

Rafe smirked. “No. I know I am.”

Y/N chuckled beside him, slipping her hand into his. “You should’ve known better,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “Rafe isn’t someone you fuck with. And neither am I.”

JJ’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t say anything. Not when it was so obvious that they had lost whatever game they thought they were playing.

Rafe leaned in, voice just loud enough for the Pogues to hear. “This was your one warning. Next time? I won’t be so nice.”

And with that, he turned, dragging Y/N with him as they walked away, leaving the Pogues standing there, seething.

The night continued around them, the music blaring, the drinks flowing—but everyone knew.

Rafe Cameron had made his point.

Loud and fucking clear.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

i loved this request sm, thank you anon and i hope it’s what you asked for !! <3 i’ve had this a couple request in the drafts, just editing them so i can start posting them, so there might be a couple more posts tonight :)

as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated :) i’m gonna try my best to keep replying to reblogs and comments, because genuinely i am SO insanely grateful for all the love you’ve all given me :’) i’ve gone up by 400 followers since december and i’m so insanely grateful for the love on my page and my works <3

pls keep requesting my loves !! request are still open and i’m working through them until i go away on wednesday <3

[heeseungsbabygworl]

"Room 1706" — Lee Heeseung

[one-shot] “room 1706” — lee heeseung x fem!reader

genre: business trip!au, assistant x boss, sarcastic tension, hotel room smut

warnings: explicit sexual content (MDNI), fingering, oral (f receiving), protected sex, dom-ish!heeseung, praise/degradation, dirty talk, tension-filled foreplay, unresolved emotional mess

wc: ~1.8k

inspo: “Hotel Lobby” by Tobii

📝: desire:unleash be wilding but so am i lmao. lowkey giving love and deepspace nightly rendezvous rn (iykyk)

༉‧₊˚.♡₊˚.༄

"come see me at the hotel lobby, girl don't tell nobody."

The hotel suite door shut with a quiet finality.

One room. One king bed. One long-ass day of corporate diplomacy and fake smiles.

You kicked off your heels and dropped your bag by the sofa, resisting the urge to collapse. Instead, you rolled your neck out and glanced at your boss, the six-foot embodiment of every power trip you've ever survived.

Lee Heeseung.

Black tie loose, white shirt rolled to the elbows, and the same bored expression he wore during hostile negotiations.

“You want the bed or the floor?” you asked, already anticipating his next smug remark.

Heeseung peeled off his blazer and tossed it over the chair.

“You think I’d let my assistant sleep on the floor?”

You blinked. “Are you offering to?”

He shrugged, moving toward the minibar. “I’m offering to share.”

You scoffed. “Like hell.”

“That’s not a no.”

“Heeseung.”

He grabbed a bottle of water, twisted it open, and took a slow sip. His tongue caught the rim, throat flexing just slightly. Deliberate. Asshole.

“You always this tense after business trips?” he murmured, eyes catching yours.

“No. Just when I’m stuck in one room with my egotistical boss who thinks sexual tension is a valid HR strategy.”

He smirked. “So you admit there’s tension.”

“Jesus—"

“Don’t worry,” he said, stepping closer. “I’m not the type to act on it.”

You crossed your arms, heat prickling at the back of your neck. “That so?”

He leaned in, voice low. “Unless you want me to.”

Silence.

Your pulse skidded. Your mouth went dry.

“I think you need sleep,” you said, stepping back. “you’re delusional.”

“I think,” he replied, following, “you’re full of shit.”

You hated how your stomach flipped. Hated the look in his eyes—dark, sharp, knowing.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re always two seconds away from biting my head off. Or climbing into my lap.”

You exhaled slowly. “You done?”

“Not even close.”

His fingers grazed your wrist.

You froze.

Heeseung wasn’t touching you like a boss. He was touching you like a man who wanted, who was waiting. And now that you weren’t pulling away, his hand slid up, slow and intentional, until his palm cupped the side of your neck. His fingers were warm, thumb brushing under your jaw like he was memorizing the shape of you.

He tilted his head. “Tell me no.”

You should. You needed to. But—

You kissed him first.

It was messy. Hot. A collision of frustration and months of biting your tongue. His hands grabbed your waist, pulling you in until your hips crashed into his. You could feel him, hard and unrelenting through the fabric, the heat between you spiking like a live wire.

You gasped against his lips. “This is a mistake.”

“You’re still kissing me.”

“Shut up.”

His mouth dropped to your jaw, your throat, tongue dragging down in hot, open-mouthed kisses. You gasped when he sucked at your pulse, slow and firm, just enough to make your knees go weak.

“I knew you were hiding something under all that snark,” he muttered, backing you toward the bed. “Bet you’re a mess when someone takes control, huh?”

You yanked his shirt loose from his slacks. “You talk too much.”

“Then shut me up.”

You shoved him onto the bed, climbing into his lap. Heeseung groaned, hands on your thighs, sliding up under your skirt. Calloused fingertips teased along your skin until he reached the edge of your panties.

He grinned. “You’re soaked.”

Your stomach clenched.

You rolled your hips once, slow, dragging friction that made his jaw go tight. He sucked in a breath through his teeth.

“I hate you,” you whispered against his lips.

He gripped your ass and bucked up into you. “Prove it.”

You kissed down his throat, biting softly, enough to leave a mark. He groaned, head falling back, his grip tightening.

Then he flipped you, fast and fluid, all muscle and hunger, pressing you into the mattress with a dark gleam in his eyes.

“I’ve waited so fucking long for this,” he breathed, mouth ghosting over your collarbone as he knelt between your legs.

He tugged your panties down, slow and deliberate, keeping eye contact. When he spread you open with two fingers, the cool air made you shiver, but his gaze, molten and razor-sharp, burned right through you.

He dipped his head, pressed a kiss just above your clit. Then another, lower. Then—

His tongue flicked against you, light and teasing, making your hips jolt.

“Shit—” you gasped, clutching the sheets.

Heeseung flattened his tongue, licked a long, firm stripe up your center, then sucked. Hot, steady pressure that had your thighs trembling in seconds. One hand held your leg open; the other slipped into yours, grounding you.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured into you. “You taste insane.”

You bit down on your fist. “Don’t call me that.”

He chuckled lowly. “Why? Gonna come anyway?”

He changed pace, faster now. Tongue flicking, circling, sucking with ruthless precision. When he slipped a finger inside you, then another, curling them just right, the pressure became too much.

Your orgasm hit like a shockwave. Thighs clenching, body arching, moans spilling unfiltered as he worked you through it. Heeseung didn’t stop until you were twitching under him.

When he finally pulled away, his chin was wet, lips swollen, eyes half-lidded and smug.

“You gonna be good for me now?”

You yanked him down by the collar and kissed him, tasting yourself on his tongue.

He fumbled for his wallet, tore the foil open, rolled the condom on, and lined himself up, pressing the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing.

And then he pushed in. Deep. Slow. Inch by inch until he bottomed out, and the stretch of him had your back arching, your breath catching in your throat.

He groaned, forehead pressed to yours.

“Shit, you feel good.”

You clung to him, heels digging into his back. He started to move, hips rocking into you, measured and devastating, each thrust angled to hit just right.

You moaned into his shoulder. “Heeseung—”

“That’s it,” he grunted. “Say my name again.”

He fucked you like he meant it. Like he’d dreamed of this. One hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your hip, pulling you to meet him, stroke for stroke. His mouth hovered over yours, not quite kissing, just feeling you.

“Look at me,” he said, voice raw.

You did.

Heeseung kissed you like a promise and thrust once, hard. You cried out, walls fluttering around him, nails digging into his shoulders as you came again, wrecked and gasping.

He followed a second later, cursing under his breath as he spilled into the condom, hips stuttering before he collapsed beside you.

The room stilled.

Sweat. Breaths. Heartbeat in your ears.

Heeseung’s arm flopped over his eyes.

After a minute, he asked:

“Still want the floor?”

You elbowed him.

He laughed, kissed your shoulder, then let the silence settle.

You didn’t move.

Neither did he.

7:58 AM – The Next Morning

Heeseung sat across from you at the conference table, dressed like nothing happened.

You were in a blazer, heels, and a new shade of ruin.

Neither of you spoke.

But right before the meeting started, he leaned toward you, quiet, unreadable, and said:

“Room 1706 again tonight?”

You didn’t answer.

But your hand brushed his under the table.

And that was answer enough.

[sylusdarling]

Caught Kitten

Sylus x reader

✧ How to deal with naughty kittens who don’t listen

Content: Sylus x fem!reader, vaginal sex, evol useage, switch!reader, riding

A/N: This is my first fic on this blog. I’m so excited to post. I hope you all enjoy!

You weren’t planning to give up. You had to prove to that bastard that you weren’t weak and that you were more than capable to win a simple bet like capturing a brooch. It was your third time sneaking into Sylus’ room within the past few days. Each time you’ve failed to find the brooch and it resulted with a snarky Sylus kicking you out of his room. But not tonight, you were going to find that goddamn crow brooch.

You approached the large red doors that lead into the silver haired man’s bedroom. Standing outside for a moment you inhaled a deep breath preparing for whatever may be on the other side. With a soft push of your palm against the door it opened. Cautiously you poked your head into the room, you were met with silence.

Taking soft, calculated steps you began to step foot into the room. Unfortunately for you, you failed to notice the main obstacle that was present in the room, Sylus himself. He sat on his king size bed with his head down. He sat in his signature crimson robe that unfortunately for you, hugged his body much too well. After taking a closer look you noticed that he was currently cleaning his gun. His large hand roamed over the gun as he cleaned it with a black silk handkerchief.

You prayed that he was focused enough at the task at hand that you would get a few minutes in without being kicked out. Your first stop was his bedside table. Right before you got there Sylus turned around unexpectedly and aimed the newly cleaned gun directly at you.

“Freeze.” He ordered.

You sighed already defeated and stuck your hands in the air. He approached you, gun still pointed at you. “Seems like a little kitty stumbled into somewhere she shouldn’t be once again.”

Your head drooped. “I’ll see myself out.” You turned onto your heel to leave but Sylus unexpectedly grabbed your wrist. “And who said you can leave?” His sharp red eyes starred at you as he awaited an answer.

“Well I just assumed you were going to kick me out again.”

Sylus tsked. “And I guess that means you already forgot what I said if I were to catch you sneaking into here again.” Before you could respond he began to drag you to his bed.

“W-wait!” Sylus threw you onto his bed and you landed with an “oof.”

Sylus climbed on top of you. His sharp red eyes piercing you as you were trapped underneath him. “I told you, if I were to catch you again you’d be punished.”

You scoffed, “As if being trapped here with you isn’t already punishment enough.”

“Oh sweetie, don’t say that. You’ll hurt my feelings.” The silver haired man smirked.

Flashes of black and red swirled around you and suddenly you were bound in place. Sylus used his evol to tie your hands down which left you helpless.

He grabbed your chin between his thumb and index finger as he stared at you. “Now, what will I do with you?”

You struggled against his evol even though you knew you were trapped. You laughed bitterly. “You hate me enough that this is what you resorted to?”

Sylus’ eyes narrowed dangerously at your statement. “Oh is that what you think?”

“Aren’t I right?” You scoffed.

He hummed, “I’d say it’s quite the opposite.”

He leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss. It was forceful, heated even. Like he was trying to convey something.

Once he pulled away you took a deep inhale trying to catch your breath.

“Why don’t you put your claws away, kitten?”

Turning away from Sylus you hmphed at him.

Quirking an eyebrow up, Sylus spoke. “Seems like someone has some attitude today.”

The dual coloured tendrils began to slither up under your shirt. It caused the buttons to pop.

He ran his hand up your bra. “Hm, black lace. A nice choice, It suits you.” He hooked his finger in the middle of your lace bra and pulled down which caused your breasts to spill out.

You yelped in shock. “Sylus!”

The silver haired main took one of your nipples into your mouth without breaking eye contact. His sharp, ruby eyes gazed directly into yours as he sucked which caused a full body shiver. “Maybe your mouth does have another purpose other than being a cocky bastard.”

Pulling off of you with a ‘pop’ he grinned. “Careful, talk like that will only make me harder sweetie.” Taking your hand he pressed it against his robe covered groin. And he indeed wasn’t lying about that. Feeling the hardness in your hand made you clench around nothing. Clouded by arousal, your dislike for Sylus began to fade. Instead you desired him. You needed him.

“Sylus.”

“Hm?”

“Fuck me.”

He snickered, “Seems like someone had a change of heart.”

You struggled against his evol once again. “Please. If you don’t fuck me, I will.”

“Oh really?” He flicked his wrist and suddenly his evol around your wrists dissipated. “Go ahead then.”

You glared at him as you sat up. In a swift movement you crossed the bed and pushed him down. Now he laid under you with your hands at either side of his head. His silver hair laid messily against the comforter as he looked up at you. “Oh, is kitty feeling feisty tonight?”

Your hands fumbled with the knot that held Sylus’ robe together, “You said to go ahead, so I did.”

Even though you didn’t like the man’s personality, you had eyes. He was good looking with his toned body and handsome face. It pissed you off. The fact that you couldn’t deny wanting him any longer also pissed you off. Once the robe was undone your hands glided across his skin, feeling him up. Your heated gaze scanned every inch of skin, every mole and every divot of his abs.

“Like what you see, sweetie?”

“What if I do?” You retorted.

His large hands snaked up around your waist, “Then that means I can admit that I like what I see as well.”

“Sylus, I can’t wait any longer.” You panted as you reached for his cock. His tip was already leaking, clearly affected by you.

“Then don’t.”

Lining his cock up with yourself, you began to sink down on it. He was so large and thick that you were struggling to get it to all fit. “It’s so big.”

“Come on, kitten. You can do it. You’re almost there.” Sylus was grabbing your hips to help you sink down.

Sylus threw his head back in bliss as you clenched around him. “God, you feel divine.” He spoke in what sounded like a growl.

“D-do you think I can move?” You asked.

“Take your time. If you think you’re ready go ahead but don’t push yourself too hard.” He was surprisingly caring.

Once you were comfortable enough you decided to move. Slowly you pushed yourself up almost off of his cock before you sunk back down with a whine. It felt so good. You needed more. You repeated the process slowly picking up speed. Sylus watched you like a hawk, making sure to not miss any of your gorgeous facial expressions.

He was lost in the way your body moved. Mesmerized even. “You’re absolutely perfect, kitten.” His hands roamed your body. Up the sides of your hips, your breasts, your neck. Anywhere he could get his hands on. He needed to feel you.

“I think I’m going to come.” You panted as your legs were getting sore and sweat dripped down your forehead.

“Go ahead, sweetie. You deserve it.” He said as he tweaked your breast. He leaned into your ear and on his deep, husky voice he whispered “Come for me.” And that tipped you over the edge. You saw white, blinding light as you came with a cry on Sylus’ cock.

You could tell Sylus wasn’t far behind. Leaning in, you kissed him. Tangling your hot tongues together as you grinded down on his cock.

“I’m coming, kitten.” He breathed out before he came inside you The white, hot cum filling you up. You pulled away from the kiss and let out a huff of air.

Pulling of of Sylus, you flopped down beside him on the bed absolutely exhausted. The silver haired man leaned over and brushed your messy hair out of your face.

“You did very well, kitten.”

“Thanks.” You mumbled out, exhausted.

He grabbed your hand and placed something inside of it. “I think you deserve this.” Opening your hand you were met with the brooch that you’re been searching for the whole time.

“Does this mean I pass the test?” You giggled.

He hummed, “Yes, I think your…determination is rather admirable.” You felt the weight beside you on the bed leave. Looking up you saw Sylus standing above you. He slotted his arms underneath you and picked you up bridal style.

“How about a shower?”

You snuggled into his warmth with a smile. “Sounds good.”

“Snuggling into my chest, you really are like a kitten.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he said that.

[kxsagi]

which one of the bllk boys do u think would be into taller women 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

ur writing is amazing and remember to take care of yourself <3

“𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞, 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲”

a/n: thank you so so much lovely, remember to take care of yourself too!

lmk if i’m missing anyone! also i’m sorry if i made reader too tall… 💀 i made her the same height as nagi bc that boy is too tall, but i made reader just a little bit taller than the other boys because they're already skyscrapers

(header image is not mine!)

ft. karasu tabito, mikage reo, bachira meguru, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro

karasu tabito

into it in a cocky, cheeky way. like he thinks it’s hot and will never shut up about it. 

will purposefully stand next to you and be like “yep. i know what i’m doing.” 

when you tease him about being shorter, he bites back so fast. “you may be taller, but i still got you weak in the knees last night.” sir pls. 

loves seeing you wear oversized clothes because it just emphasizes your height even more and he’s like yes. yes that’s mine. 

gives you dumb nicknames like “beanstalk” but says it with so much affection. 

the type to post mirror selfies with you and caption them “she could bench press me and i’d thank her.” 

mikage reo

he’s obsessed. like you being taller just adds to the fantasy of him dating a mysterious goddess. 

dramatic as hell about it. will 100% call you “my statuesque beauty” like he’s in a drama. 

gets all flirty and touchy when he has to look up to you slightly, he’s like “damn, i’m living the dream.” 

if you try to bend down to kiss him, he’ll smirk and go “no no, i’ll climb up to you.” extra for no reason. 

coordinates outfits so the vibes are immaculate. aesthetic tall couple core. 

brags about you to everyone. “my girlfriend’s taller than me. jealous?” 

bachira meguru

loves it in a gremlin way. like he sees you towering over him and is like, “hehe. i’m gonna climb you like a tree.” 

makes it his life mission to surprise-hug you from behind and hang off you like a backpack. 

“you’re like a tall tree and i’m the squirrel.” he means it as a compliment. 

gets super clingy and always wants to hold your hand or be near you just to compare heights. 

absolutely will ask if he can sit on your shoulders. he is not joking. 

when people ask if it bothers him, he just beams and goes “nah. she’s perfect like this.” 

kaiser michael

likes it because it surprises people. he’s all about breaking expectations, and having a tall girlfriend just feeds into that ego. 

“you thought i’d date some tiny, submissive girl? nah. i want someone who can crush me with their thighs.” 

absolutely the type to pull you into his lap no matter how tall you are. will manhandle you with confidence and then smirk like he won. 

cocky when you walk in heels. “you’re really trying to look down on me, huh? i like it.” 

makes jokes like “people must think i’m your sugar baby” then follows it up with “but if you wanna pay for dinner i’m not complaining.” 

gets weirdly competitive about it sometimes. “what do you mean you can reach that shelf faster than me– give me a minute.” 

shidou ryusei

fully unhinged about it. like he doesn’t just like it, he’s feral for it. the second he realizes you’re taller than him, it becomes a kink. sorry. 

sees you walk into the room towering over people and immediately thinks, i wanna see her crush someone’s skull with her thighs. 

grabs your hips and leans up close like “you gonna step on me now, queen?” 

loves how intimidating you look. thrives on people being scared of you and then watching you baby him in private. 

if someone comments on your height, he’ll deadpan, “yeah, she could break my back in half and i’d say thank you.” 

you’ll catch him smirking whenever you’re talking to someone while standing over them, like he’s just proud to be on your arm. 

randomly says “carry me” with zero shame. jumps on your back like a man possessed. 

nagi seishiro

loves it because it’s easy. taller women = less effort for him = ideal. bonus points if you baby him. 

he literally doesn’t care about his own height but adores how he doesn’t have to face down to look at you. he’ll just go “this is nice…” 

rests his head on your chest or shoulder all the time. you’re his human pillow and that’s perfect for him. 

gets a bit whiny when you tease him for being the same (or similar) height, “then don’t date me if you’re gonna bully me…” but he’s not serious. he’s clinging to you while saying it. 

doesn’t even blink when people comment. just shrugs and goes “she’s cool.” simple as that. 

secretly likes when you reach things for him or help him with stuff. he’ll lazily go “thanks, babe” and then go right back to gaming while using your thigh as an armrest. 

when you pick him up once for fun, he goes “whoa. that’s kinda hot. do it again?” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[storyslover]

HEART ATTACK

LANDO NORRIS X READER

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Warnings: Minor injury, fluff overload, protective Lando, light swearing

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

The sun was beginning to set over the karting track, casting a golden glow on the asphalt as the Quadrant crew prepped for another chaotic video. You stood off to the side, adjusting your helmet while listening to the playful trash talk between the boys. Lando, as usual, was at the center of it all, a smirk tugging at his lips as he playfully bumped into you.

“You ready for this?” he asked, his voice teasing but laced with that signature protective edge.

You grinned. “More than ready. Hope you’re prepared to lose.”

The group burst into laughter as Lando dramatically placed a hand over his chest. “You wound me, Y/N. But let’s be honest, I’ll probably have to slow down just to give you a chance.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

With the cameras rolling and the challenge about to begin, everyone climbed into their karts. You felt the familiar rush of excitement as you tightened your grip on the wheel, your competitive streak flaring to life. The countdown started.

Three. Two. One. Go!

Engines roared to life, and the race was on. Zac got a terrible start, immediately putting himself at the back, while Max and Ria fought aggressively for the lead. Lando, of course, was pulling ahead, but you were determined not to let him get away so easily. Pushing the kart to its limits, you found yourself right on his tail.

“Looking a little nervous there, babe,” you teased over the team radio, hearing his chuckle through the static.

“Not even close.”

You saw your chance on a sharp corner, your confidence surging as you lined up a daring move. But just as you attempted to squeeze past, your back tire clipped the barrier. Everything happened in a blur—your kart spun violently, and before you could react, you felt the harsh jolt of impact as you collided with the track wall.

The world tilted for a moment, and pain shot up your arm as you tried to move. The laughter and excitement from earlier were replaced with instant panic as the karts slowed, everyone realizing something had gone wrong.

“Y/N!” Lando’s voice cut through the noise, and within seconds, he was out of his kart, sprinting toward you. The cameras were still rolling, but he didn’t care—nothing else mattered except getting to you. He dropped to his knees beside you, his helmet already off, eyes scanning you frantically.

“Are you okay? Talk to me, love.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to blink away the dizziness. “That… did not go as planned.”

Lando exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before reaching for your helmet, carefully unfastening it. “That wasn’t funny.”

You offered a weak smile. “A little funny.”

He sighed, but the worry in his expression softened just slightly. “Where does it hurt?”

“My arm, mostly.” You winced as you tried to move it, and Lando immediately stopped you.

“Okay, okay, don’t move too much.” His hands hovered over you, as if he wasn’t sure where to touch without making it worse. “Let’s get you checked out first.”

The rest of the Quadrant crew had gathered around, throwing in their own comments—some concerned, some lighthearted, because they knew you well enough to sense you’d want to laugh it off. But Lando wasn’t laughing. He carefully helped you out of the kart, wrapping an arm around your waist as he guided you to the side.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

“I didn’t mean to crash,” you murmured, leaning into his side.

“Yeah, well, you’re banned from making overtakes now,” he said, only half-joking. “I don’t care if it’s a fun video, I’d rather you finish last than do something that nearly gives me a heart attack.”

You looked up at him, your expression softening. “Lando… I’m okay. It’s just a bruised arm.”

He met your gaze, his blue-green eyes filled with something deeper—relief, love, and just a hint of frustration that he couldn’t protect you from everything. “Doesn’t mean I wasn’t scared,” he admitted quietly.

Your heart melted. You reached up with your good arm and cupped his cheek, brushing your thumb gently along his jawline. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Lando sighed, leaning into your touch before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Just—just be careful, alright?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I promise.”

“Good.” He exhaled, squeezing your waist a little tighter before glancing at the group. “Alright, no more karting for Y/N today. Medical check first.”

The others groaned in mock disappointment, but they knew better than to argue when Lando had his ‘protective boyfriend’ mode activated. You let him fuss over you, secretly loving the way he cared so deeply.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the video shoot continued without you racing again, but you didn’t mind. You were exactly where you wanted to be—wrapped up in Lando’s arms, safe and sound, as he stole little kisses and whispered about how much he loved you between takes.

And, despite the bruises, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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

HERE IS ANOTHER ONE WITH LANDO THIS TIME . HOPE YOU LIKE IT . AND PLZ GIVE ME YOUR FEEDBACK IN THE COMMENT

[luveline]

roan and eddie fic , eddie has a dream that he never met reader & he just feels so miserable cuz he cannot imagine life without her

🤍🤍🤍

“Daddy, wake up.” 

Eddie groans. “Five more minutes.” 

“No, wake up, we’ve got school!”

“I don’t go to school, little miss,” he protests, forcing his eyes open as he sits up.

His bedroom feels empty. After a few moments, he realised it isn’t his bedroom, or it is, but it’s the wrong one. “What?” he mumbles. 

“Daddy,” Roan says again, climbing onto his high bed with a grunt. Her hair is wild, a dark cloud around her head. “We are so late.” 

“Where’s Y/N?” 

She frowns. “What?” 

“Where’s mom, baby? Did she already leave?” 

“Did you hit your head?” she asks, giggling, a nervousness threading through it. 

“What?” he asks. But he’s looking around, and he’s thinking about it, and you’re not here. “Who am I talking about?” 

“I don’t know,” Roan says, shrugging. She crawls across the blankets and plonks herself down in his lap. Eddie kisses her hair, and she’s perfect, but he can’t help feeling like something is very wrong. 

“This is a weird dream,” Roan says. 

Eddie wakes up hard. Disorientated by the sudden change in position, the lack of baby in his lap, he flinches and yanks on his own hair trying to sit. He can remember the dream for a few seconds, the knowing you weren’t there and the posters on his bedroom wall, but then looks around at the walls of his current bedroom and starts to forget. Dreams are so fleeting. The details slough off and leave behind a single feeling of loneliness. 

“You okay?” 

He rubs his eyes, fingertips pressed deep into soft material. “Think I just had a bad dream.” 

“What happened?” 

You’re croaking. He must’ve woken you shifting the mattress. The alarm clock blinks an upsetting 4:23AM, casting a weak red light onto your arm. Eddie grabs you without thinking about it beforehand, his fingers too tight on your elbow. 

Your jaw goes soft as you lean down to kiss his hand. “Eddie?” 

He feels like crying. Startled by his own emotion, he takes his hand back and climbs out of bed. 

“Eddie, sweetheart,” you say. You sound upset, but Eddie can’t deal with crying in front of you again, it hasn’t even been two weeks since he cried over Roan getting her Student of the Week award. She looked so small on the stage. 

Eddie attempts to flush the strange feeling away with two handfuls of cold water at the bathroom sink. He can hear you getting out of bed, your socked feet on the hallway floor, the creaky door as you slide into the bathroom. You wrap your arms around him from behind without saying anything, too in love to bother asking, your face pressed hard to his naked shoulder. “What’s going on?” you ask, “You’re being weird, baby.” 

He tries to hug you backwards. “Sorry.” 

“I think I’m gonna fall over, it’s so early.” 

“Sorry,” he says again, turning and dragging you into his arms. 

“Your hands are still wet, you freak.” 

“Sorry.” He kisses your forehead, feels your arms and your back and remembers that you’re real. 

“Stop saying sorry, since when do I care? You could go swimming in Lover’s Lake during peak hook up season and I’d still want a hug.” 

“That’s disgusting,” he mumbles. 

“Exactly, that’s how much I'm in love with you, Munson.” 

“You know when you’re a Munson, you’ll have to think of something else to call me,” he says. 

It’s the kind of quiet only night time holds, and it’s still so dark. The only light is the orange sunshine night light glowing in the hall to make sure Roan’s not too scared to use the bathroom at night, and it doesn’t do much, but Eddie can see your skin, your hair, the hill of your shoulder and the slope down to your elbow. 

“You can start calling me Munson,” you say. 

“Yeah? Taste of your own medicine?” 

“When did you take your shirt off?” 

“You were sleeping. You’re too warm to cuddle lately, but I still wanted to cuddle,” he mumbles. 

“Cuddle…” 

He yanks you up into his arms. Eddie’s not macho or anything but he can lift you into a hug for a good three seconds, just long enough to kiss you and tuck his nose into the space below your ear. “Stop making fun of me,” he says. 

“I’m not… Well, I am, but it’s not ‘cos I don’t love you. Can we go back to bed now?” 

“You want me to carry you?” he asks, and he means it, he’s gonna treat you like the princess you deserve to feel like from now on. 

“No… last time we tried that we woke Ro and she was grumpy all day,” you say, taking his hand. “Come on, honey, I’m gonna give you a massage. You can’t have bad dreams after that.” 

“What kind of massage?” 

“Deep tissue shoulder massage. And I can throw in a couple of kisses, but only if you tell me about the dream.” 

“I’ll tell you anything you want,” he says. 

You beam at him, sleep in the corners of your eyes but no less beautiful for it. 

[itsthewritergal]

Get up Buck - B.Barnes X reader

Here it is! The final part.

I hope you all enjoy :)

TW; suicide, death, character death, swearing, (happy ending tho!)

PART 1

PART 2

“She is to be kept on 24 hour surveillance for the next four days. She is going to be tired and weak and you need to be looking after it. It is going to be hard work for everyone involved and you need to never make her feel bad for it” The Psych Doctor explained to Steve and Tony, 

“I understand, I can promise she will be safe” Tony said firmly, “Is she ready to go?” 

“You’ve signed all the consent forms?” The doctor asked 

“Everything’s been signed and paid for” Steve said, “I’d just like to get her home” 

“On the understanding that you bring her back the moment you can’t handle it” 

“I don’t need handling” Y/N said firmly appearing in the doorway of her room, 

“I didn’t mean it like that” The doctor said gently 

“You can’t keep me here so if you don’t want me at the compound I can go home” She said, and Tony felt his heart break.

“We want you at the compound” Tony placed his hand softly on hers, 

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked searching Tony’s face for any sign of uncertainty 

“Yes” Tony said, picking up her suitcase that was packed 

“Y/N, here is a few emergency numbers you can call if things get bad again” the doctor said handing Y/N a pamphlet filled with self-help book recommendations and numbers for therapists. 

“She won’t need them, but thank you” Steve said 

The ride to the compound was filled by the soft humming of Wanda to the radio, Steve and Bucky muttering in the back of the car and Nat trying to pull conversation out of Tony who was clearly preoccupied with googling all the best therapists near to the compound. Y/N had her head resting on the cool glass of the window as the compound rolled into view. It was a sight she had wanted to forget, her hands balled up in her shirt trying to disperse some of the anxiety of moving in. Tony had taken her to her apartment a few hours before to get her things together. 

“I gave Vis and Clint clear instructions for your room, your stuff will be in there” Wanda said 

“They won’t have unpacked it though?” Y/N double checked 

“No of course they won’t have” Steve said softly “We will have to check your bags though” 

“I’m not going to smuggle in anything that’s going to hurt me” Y/N said with a roll of her eyes, 

“We can’t take that risk, you can choose whoever to check through them but we have to check” Steve said in an authoritative tone

“Nat” Y/N said quietly 

“Sounds good sweetheart” Nat said with a soft smile, 

“Movie night tonight, what are we watching?” Tony said trying to lighten the mood 

“I think it’s Bucky’s turn to pick” Wanda said gently, Bucky felt his heart squeeze

“Friends” He said without skipping a beat 

“Friends?” Tony asked, 

“Yeah, I want to watch Friends tonight” He said, he knew it was Y/N’s favourite show to watch when she was feeling down. It wasn’t much but it was a start to making her feel better. 

“That’s not a movie but I guess we can watch it” Tony said with a huff,

“Y/N sweet or salty popcorn?” Wanda asked 

“Either, I think I’ll probably head to bed. So it might be a better idea for someone else to choose” She said quietly 

“I want both” Clint interrupted, as the car rolled to a stop 

“Nat can you show Y/N her room?” Tony said as they climbed out the car. 

It had been two days, Tony had kept Y/N under close super-vision. Not that she would have known it. He made sure that all the agents had been briefed to know that she was to be treated normally, just like she had been treated when she was at the compound with Bucky. 

“You need some sleep” Steve said as Tony slumped into the meeting room with yet another cup of coffee

“Everyone’s either too tired or on missions to do the over night shifts of watching her, so I don’t have a choice” Tony said “Sleep is for the weak” 

“What if I took the overnight tonight?” Bucky suggested “You’re giving her the sleeping tablets so she won’t wake up, I’m not on missions this week so I don’t mind one all-nighter” 

“What would you do if she did wake up?” Tony asked, Bucky knew it was a test. He wasn’t stupid, but there was a part of him that was insulted 

“I’d come and get you or Steve and I’d stay away” Bucky said, it was a lie, he wasn’t sure how he’d react. Wasn’t sure if he could stay that far away from her if she was hurting, but he had to try

“I don’t know” Tony said warily 

“It’s one night, then you can look after her 24/7 the rest of the week” Steve suggested, 

“Fine” Tony agreed. 

The night was going smoothly, Bucky felt a little like a stalker watching Y/N sleep on the secret cameras Tony had installed. But he took a little bit of comfort in watching her so peacefully, it had been one of his favourite past-times when they were together. Not that she ever knew about it, back then she would have teased him mercilessly if she had found out. He would have loved it, he’d love it even more if she was to find that spark again, but he knew better than to wish for that much. 

Y/N stirred a little in her sleep and Bucky felt his chest tighten, she was wearing his shirt. He was sure he had lost it months ago, yet here it was. Bucky zoomed in a little on the camera to check that she wasn’t waking up, her face contorting into a pained grimace. Suddenly she sat bolt upright and was desperately searching in the duvet for something. Bucky could sense the panic, his hand hesitating over the button that would call Tony and Steve. Until she stopped, her hands wrapped around something. Something that Bucky couldn’t believe. And so he called for Steve. 

“Is she okay?” Steve asked out of breath, 

“I need you to put me in a cell tonight” Bucky said calmly, it wasn’t a request Steve wanted to hear, 

“What’s going on? Do I need to call Shuri?” 

“She’s got the bear” Bucky said quietly, 

“The bear?” Steve asked in a dumbfounded way, he knew it was the middle of the night but his brain was desperately trying to keep up with Bucky’s train of thought

“When we were together we went to this bear shop, where you could design your own and she made a Bucky Bear” He said, tears daring to fall from his eyes “She  paid extra for her bear to have a matching arm to mine” His metal fingers flexed, “I always said that as long as she had the bear I’d be with her” His voice broke on the last syllable 

“Buck” 

“I need you to put me in a cell because otherwise I’m going to go in there and I can’t betray Tony like that” 

“I won’t lock you up” Steve said 

“Then call Tony” Bucky snapped 

“No” Steve said firmly 

“Steve I have very little willpower right now. I can’t stay away from her when she’s hurting like this” Bucky said 

“I don’t think you should” Steve said quietly, “I think she needs you” 

“She hates me” 

“She doesn’t” 

That was all Bucky needed to hear, he was soon outside her door, his knuckles tapping on the soft wood of her door. It creaked open to show Y/N with tear trails down her cheeks. She didn’t dare move when she saw Bucky, almost as though she had forgotten how to. 

“Y/N,” Bucky started but he couldn’t find the words 

“What did you want Bucky?” She asked tiredly rubbing her eyes, 

“I can’t” He took a deep breath “I lied, when I broke up with you. I lied to keep you safe, I was scared I was corrupting you. I wanted to keep you safe and I fucked up. But Y/N, I need to make it better tonight. I need you to let me hold you” he rambled quickly, 

“Bucky” Y/N started 

“I promise I will talk to you properly in the morning, you can yell or tell me you hate me, but please I can’t loose you. I won’t loose you. I need you to want to live, and I swear I will prove to you ever single day that life is worth it. Just please Y/N, if you can’t live for you, then live for me?” Bucky said he fell onto his knees begging Y/N, 

“Get up Buck” she said softly 

“Y/N” He started 

“I’ve always slept better with you in the room” she admitted. 

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sweet Like Candy 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor, Bucky Barnes (Professor AU)

Summary: the new school year proves to be hectic. (short!chubby! reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

“Hey, Oli, hold my seat,” you say into the phone speaker, “I gotta run! The professor’s office hours close in... ten minutes and I desperately need to be signed into this course. I swear, if I’m stuck taking philosophy again I’m gonna cry.” 

“No problem, we can wait,” Olive assures you. She’s always a comfort. She wouldn’t dare mention how you always cry or that you did this to yourself by waiting until the last minute to sort your schedule. 

“Alright, gotta go! You don’t wanna hear me huffing and puffing,” you chuff, “buh-bye!” 

You hang up and clutch your phone, your bag bouncing, your bum too! You hurtle forward between the bodies of students who refuse to part for your passing. You veer towards the history building and nearly trip up the steps. 

You heave as you get to the stop and grunt as you drag open the heavy wooden door. Ugh! Why are you weak? Not just in body, but mind too. If you had a degree of discipline, this wouldn’t be happening. Again. 

You slow as you climb the next set of stairs. Yeah, you can’t do that. You’re dizzied by the endless halls set out like a twisted maze meant to house beasts with human heads and bulls’ bodies. It doesn’t help that those signs are fuzzy. You can make out the letters if you get real close. 

You finally get to the door you need, dragging your feet as your legs burn. You raise your hand to knock on the door but it opens as if it can sense you. That’s silly. Doors don’t open themselves. 

It’s too late to stop yourself from knocking on the man’s upper stomach. You cringe and pull your hand back against your chest. You force your lips into a smile. 

“Sorry, I—are office hours over? I ran here,” you gasp. “I’m sorry.” 

The man looks down at you and you sway nervously. He’s taller than you. Well, most people are. His blue eyes bore into you as his cheek dimples in agitation. 

“Please--” 

“I don’t know,” he grips the mug in his hand tighter. “Odinson, another one.” 

The man doesn’t bother with an excuse me or pardon. He steps forward and you stumble back. You sidle out of his way and he marches down the hall. You peer through the door again. An even bigger man rises from behind a desk and smiles. The blond is a lot more welcoming than the brunette. 

“Ah hello, I suppose you’ve come to be let into my Norse course?” He intones as he crosses the office and extends his large hand. “Professor Odinson.” 

“Cerise,” you accept his hand. It’s like a paw. Maybe there are mythical beasts in here. Though he is more what you imagine a god to be. Large, golden, and those eyes. “Yes, I’m so sorry! I meant to enroll before the deadline but I had it down wrong and then I realised it was two days late and--” 

“Not to worry. It’s an intensive language course. We are bound to have a few withdrawals so I’d be happy to take on a few extra,” he assures you. “Do you have your form?” 

“Oh, yes!” You let the straps of your bright pink purse part on your arm and you dig inside. You take out the paper and a scatter rains over the floor. “Oops!” You bend to collect the wrapped candies and the heart lollipop. “I kinda... hurried here.” 

“Not to worry,” he grins down at you as you hold out the form again.  

His eyes skim to your other hand and you open your fist. “Er, you want some?” 

“If you don’t mind? But don’t mention it. I wouldn’t like anyone to think I can be bribed with sweets. Though it may be true,” he winks and takes one of the strawberry candies and the form. “Cerise, an interesting name.” 

He turns and goes back to his desk. You follow behind him, nervous to enter the office completely. There’s another desk. The office is bigger than you expect. You stand across form him as he sits. He lays out the paper and unwraps the candy.  

He pops the sweet into his mouth and hums, “delicious.” 

You teeter on your toes and clasp and unclasp your purse as he searches for a pen. He sucks loudly on the confection. As you try not to fidget, there’s a clink that makes you jump. You peek over at the other man as he returns with a full cup. He drops into his chair with as little caution. 

His eyes meet yours. The line of his brows of them make you flinch. He looks angry but why? Or you think so. You narrow your eyes as you try to see him clearer. 

You turn back to Odinson and shake off the tension. He scribbles with a pen across the bottom of the form. He makes a wet noise with his mouth and the other man grunts. 

“Do you have to?” The dark-haired man snarls. 

“Forgive my office mate,” Odinson tuts as he hands over the paper. “Barnes is rather crotchety since his own office was flooded. You think he’d be a bit more grateful for my generosity, elsewise he’d be languishing in some basement.” 

“I said ‘thank you’,” the other professor mutters. 

“Mm, yes, but not loud enough to hear,” Odinson chides and gives a laugh. “Don’t fret about him. I tease. We are merely adjusting to each other. You must live in residence? You know how it can be to have to adapt to others.” 

“Oh, yes, my roommate is a night owl. I already know I’m not going to get any sleep,” you take the form, “thank you, sir.” 

“Not at all, but I must warn you. This is a language course, not mythology. We use the stories to learn the language so you will need to be attentive to your studies,” he girds, “I’d hate for this all to be for not.” 

“I understand,” you look down at the form. You can kind of make out his signature.  

It’s fine. They have all sorts of assistive technology these days. First year, you go through one text-to-speech. Everything is only so you’re really not worried. And you would love to be able to speak like a viking. 

“I’ll see you in class, professor,” you give a triumphant smile and bounce on your heel as you turn. 

Barnes huffs heavily as you cross the office. You stop as a crinkle comes from your hand. You only realise then you’re still clutching onto the candies. You glance over and slowly near his desk. 

“Do you want one?” You open your hand and offer the candies.  

He doesn’t even look up, “no.” 

Odinson sucks loudly, “don’t be such a bore. Leave him a chocolate. He does like them. He keeps truffles in his drawer.” 

Barnes inhales sharply but doesn’t say a word. You take one of the chocolate balls and put it on his desk. You dump the rest in your bag then spin away. 

“Have a great day,” you chirp as you get to the door. 

[llamaqueenprompt]

Not Today

Characters: JJ Maybank, Reader

Not Requested

Word Count: 0.8k

Inspiration: “You’re not dying on me. Not today.”

Spoilers for season 4 finale

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One second JJ was standing in front of her, the next he was falling backwards holding his side.

It happened so fast.

One blink, one breath, and JJ was no longer on his feet, but on the ground, gasping and crumpling into the rocks with a soft, broken groan.

Y/n’s scream cut through the air like a blade. “JJ!”

She ran the short distance to him, dropping to her knees so hard ir hurt. But she didn’t care. Her fingers flew to his side before she could think, already soaked with warmth. Blood.

No, no, no, no.

His face was twisted in pain, lips parted, eyes bazed. “Hey, babe…” he murmured, almost casual. “It’s not that bad…”

“You’re bleeding, JJ!” she cried, pressing both hands over the wound, ignoring how slick and sticky everything already felt. Her voice cracked. “You’re… Oh my god, JJ, look at me.”

He blinked up at her, like he was trying to focus, like her face was the only thing keeping him anchored. “You’re here.”

“Of course I’m here.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, broken and frantic. She ripped off part of her shirt and pressed it against his wound. “You think I’d leave you? You idiot.”

He smiled, a weak, crooked thing. “That’s why I love you.”

Tears tung her eyes. “Don’t say that like it’s a goodbye.”

JJ grimaced, trying to breathe, trying to stay with her. For her. “Not saying goodbye. Just… in case I pass out.. Wanted to make sure you knew.

“I do know,” she whispered, her forehead pressing against his as she held the makeshift bandage tighter to his side. “I’ve always known. And you’re not dying on me. Not today. Not ever.”

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.”

He trusted her like that. So completely. It made her heart hurt in a way that had nothing to do with dear and everything to do with how much she loved him.

And just when it all felt too much, the panic, the pain, the weight of what she could lose, Pope’s voice broke through the rocks.

“Y/n? JJ?”

She screamed their names back, relief hitting her like a wave. “Over here! He’s hurt!”

Seconds later, the other appeared, their faces exhausted, and Y/n let them take over only when she was sure JJ was breathing. His hand remained wrapped in hers, none of them letting go.

Later that night

The room smelled faintly of ocean dalt and antiseptic. The onld twin bead creaked under JJ’s weight, and he looked more like himself again, color back in his cheeks, blue eyes a little less glassy. Still banged up, still bandagded, but alive.

Y/n sat cross-legged next to him, one his hands holding her waist, while hers playing with her hoodie.

“You’re hovering,” he said with a lazy smile.

“I almost lost you,” she replied simply.

His smile softened. “But you didn’t.”

“No. Because you’re a stubborn pain in the ass.”

JJ chuckled. “Takes one to know one.”

They sat in silence for a moment, just the soft rhythm of the fan spinning above them and the occasional creak of the floorboards from the others moving around downstairs.

Then, JJ tugged lightly at her hand. “Come here.”

Y/n didn’t need to be asked twice. She climbed into the bed, careful of his injury, and curled up beside him. His arm wrapped protectively around her, despite the pain he was clearly still in.

“You scared me so bad,” she whispered into his chest, her fingers brushing along the hem of the gauze. “I didn’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

JJ kissed the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere, babe. Not now. Not when I finally have something that’s good.”

“You have everything now,” she murmured. “You have me. Forever, if you want me.”

He tilted her chin up, eyes warm and soft and so unlike the reckless daredevil the rest of the world knew. “I’ve always wanted you.”

“JJ,” she caressed his cheek. “We need to talk about tonight. About Gerard…”

“I know, but not now. Now I need to love my girlfriend.” he kissed the tip of her nose before moving to her lips.

Their kiss was gentle, slow, just lips barely brushing, but it said more than any dramatic speech ever could. It was a promise. A quiet, desperate kind of love that clung on even in the middle of chaos.

When they pulled apart, JJ grinned. “So, does this mean I can milk this stab wound for at least a week of cuddles?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, cheeks flushed. “You can milk it for exactly one week. Then I start teasing you again.”

He laughed, winced, and held her tighter. “Deal.”

And for the first time in what felt like hours, she felt her heart settle.

He was okay. He was here.

And so was she.

Together. Always.

[eyelessfaces]

after hours

miguel o'hara x reader

summary: he's here again, like so many times before, standing in your living room in the middle of the night; you're not sure you can do this again, but he needs you to.

warnings: reader has trauma and ptsd, mentions of death, injuries and a disastrous mission

tags: spiderperson!reader, gn!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, ?? to ?? honestly but they have history, fluff, it ends well!

word count: 1.2k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

He does his best not to look at your apartment, not to check if the soft glow of your bedroom light is on like it is when you can’t sleep at night. But just the thought, the subconscious reminder that he shouldn’t check up on you is enough to make him take a glance at your building, because when it comes to you, he has no inner restraint.

The dim, warm light of your bedroom is on, making it the only lit up square frame of the dark grid of your building. He remembers this kind of night with you all too well; the way you would toss and turn beside him in the bed, the way he would pull you flush against him with a grunt because your agitation would slightly annoy him, the way you would instantly relax into his hold as he pressed sleepy kisses to your hair. 

You know what it’s about when you hear a thud outside of your bedroom, in your living room. Your eyes close with a sigh that comes deep from your chest, and your hands instinctively ball into fists out of sheer frustration. You do consider not moving, just to see if he’s going to do anything, if he’s going to knock on your bedroom door or something like he’s even supposed to be there in the first place– you spare yourself of that stupid stunt and drag yourself out of bed to join your living room, where he’s leaning against the wall he just climbed to enter your apartment. 

“You gotta stop this,” you sigh. “You have to stop climbing up my window” you shake your head in disbelief. He shoots you a weak apologetic smile, the same every time he does that, one that tells you he’s not really sorry.

“What the hell are you doing here this time? it’s fucking… three, Miguel. You can’t keep doing this”

“Four”

“Okay” you huff out in a soft fazed chuckle. “That doesn’t answer my question”

He stands way taller than you, and even though he should seem intimidating from this height, his sagging shoulders attest of the gloom equally painted over his face.

“I knew you were awake” he starts. 

He blinks, runs a hand over his face. You stare at him intently, expecting anything to come your way. “I need you to come back to the society”

You shake your head without thinking about it twice. “No– you know I’m not doing this anymore” you scoff, like he just said the stupidest thing ever. 

“I know” he holds a hand up, as if to stop the flood of resistance he expects from you. “We need you, though– really”

“No,” you half laugh. It takes a split second for you to get serious again. “This is it? I can go back to bed?”

Miguel sighs. “Look, I know it traumatized you– all of it. But,” 

He knew. Of course he knew. He was the one who dug through the debris and pulled you out, after all. He was the one who found you, broken and barely breathing, and carried you to safety. He saw what it did to you—how the aftermath of the battle left you shattered, both physically and mentally.

You scoff, cutting him off. “Really? You think so? You think it traumatized me to kill dozens of innocent people and almost myself because of something I thought I could take care of alone and that ended up being one big fucking disaster?” 

Miguel sighs, shaking his head.

“What did you expect Miguel? Did you expect you would come here and I’d say yes?”

“No, but maybe if you let me talk you would know what I want” he bows his head, a stern expression over his face. He steps closer to you when he sees you might finally be willing to leave him room to talk, your guard ever so slowly starting to drop. “I know everything that happened was hard on you and I know you were hard on yourself too. But I also know you were good at what you were doing, despite what you may think. The spider society seriously took a toll when you decided to leave” he nods, his gaze on you a little warmer than it is to anyone else.

You sigh, rubbing your eyes wearily. “Miguel, don’t–”

“I am not trying to convince you to come back. Not this way at least” a sense of hope courses through him when he sees the soft frown appearing over your face. “We need you for strategies. You always had great plan ideas– You’d be staying at headquarters. No field.”

You huff out a breath and walk around him to sit on your couch. 

He watches you at first, waiting for anything to happen, for any response from you. He sits down next to you, huffing out a breath when you don’t say anything, your forearms resting over your knees like you're trying to digest the offer.

His hand comes to rest over your back, and his mouth opens slightly before he decides to talk.

“And I miss having lunch with you in my office” he grins, trying to lighten the mood even though it’s usually clearly not his thing.

You glance at him and you let out a quiet scoff.

“Yeah, well” you murmur, trying to rub the tiredness off your eyes. “I’m not sure– I’m not sure coming back there is such a good idea”

His hand slides lower, gently coming to rest at the small of your back, and even though you should feel uncomfortable and awkward considering how far things have drifted between you, the gesture feels strangely comforting, strangely familiar.

“I’m not just doing this for the professional part of this, you know” he mutters. “I meant it. I miss you. I miss splitting nights between my universe and yours. I miss you scolding me when I start to lose my mind working too much”

A weak smile tugs at your lips, nostalgia cutting through you as you think about it all. You lean your side against him, your head coming to rest over his shoulder just the way it used to. “I'm sorry I broke up with you.”

Miguel lets out a soft sigh, pulling you closer to him. “I get it. You needed your time alone.”

You quietly hum in response. 

“Look,” you say after a moment. “I’m not against the idea of working at the society again. Just– don’t ask me to go on missions. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to have to think or talk about it ever again– Everything that happened.”

Miguel nods, his jaw clenching slightly as he looks at your face. “You don’t have to. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

A small appreciative smile creeps up your face, and his hand cups the back of your head. His touch is steady and reassuring, and for the first time in a long while, you manage to feel safe again.

“If I say yes, do you promise me you won’t climb up my window in the middle of the night again? I grew used to it but you have no idea how terrifying it can get to hear someone break in the middle of the night”

He snorts up a genuine laugh and presses his mouth against your temple.

“I promise.”

—

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[novashelby]

Why Not Me? - Isaiah One Shot

Pairing: IsaiahxReader(based on Evie...but friendly to all)

Warnings: No Sex, but intimacy. Mostly fluff.

Though it is not a smut, I am adding this to the 100 prompt challenge.

Word Count: 2k

Summary: She just broke up with her boyfriend and Isaiah is there to tell her what's up.

Please enjoy. I appreciate reblogs and comments. Likes are kind and thoughtful, and I appreciate you reading my work. However, reblogs really help writers out. So, please, considering rebloging.

“She’s crying again,” Finn said, rolling his eyes as he exited her room, the sandwich still in his hand. Again was the keyword. Some girls just suck at dating, and unfortunately for her, she was one of them. University didn’t make it any easier despite what her Aunty Ada said. Boys in university are intellectuals. Though, Ada herself didn’t know if she truly believed it. Finn sighed and bit one half of the sandwich before handing the other half to Isaiah, who’d been sitting on the sofa the whole time. “I’ll be back. I just got an errand for Aunt Pol downtown.” Finn swung his jacket on and nodded to his slightly older friend before leaving.

Isaiah put down his tea and turned his back, frowning a bit as he eyed the first door one reaches when climbing up the stairs. Her room. Poor girl spent quite a few days in that room crying. Though partially her fault. Isaiah slid from the couch and made his way up the stairs. Nervously, he hesitated knocking-his fist just hovering over the wood. Clearing his throat, he closed his eyes and knocked. When she didn’t answer, he knocked a bit harder, eyes glancing at the stairs. Through the door, there was a muffled, “Finn, I don’t want the sandwich…just eat it.”

Isaiah scratched his nose and stuttered out, “um-hey, uh…it’s not Finn. It’s me…Isaiah.” Never had he considered himself a nervous man. Women were never a challenge and he was always smooth with his words. But her? Tommy Shelby’s little girl was something else. You had to handle her delicately. There was a slight gap in conversation before she mumbled a wait a minute. For what? Tommy forbade her keeping a lock on her door…she was a sneaky child, a sneaky teenager, and now? A sneaky adult. “Can I just come-oh!” As soon as his hand touched the brass door handle, it turned and opened. His eyes couldn’t help but go to the toes and scale up to her head, skimming over her body. Isaiah felt heat rise to his cheeks. To avoid embarrassment, he looked off to the side. She’d been wearing her white silk bathrobe. Underneath? He doubted it’d be smart to start letting his mind wonder. A pretty girl. Perhaps not conventionally…like the girls he usually chased after. You know? The model type with toned legs and symmetrical physiques. 

But she was pretty. The unique type with features that weren’t carbon copies on every other female. Isaiah appreciated that about her. The way she never tried to force herself into any box. As his brain tried to connect the wires, he thought about how her thighs touched even when she walked or how her belly rolled when she sat. 

And she never fucking cared. She wore what she wanted, ate what she wanted, talked to who she wanted. Her confidence was unmistakable. That’s why her crying behind her wooden door after some stupid breakup was pathetic. He couldn’t understand it. One boy after the other, and she’d wither away for a few days. Over boys that probably were too weak to lift her against a wall. 

“Is there something you need?” she asked, breaking his train of thought.

“W-what?” he blinked. Her brows raised, a grin for the first time that day played on her lips. “Oh, oh! Sorry…um, are you okay? Finn said you were upset about someone-thing…something. Not much, of course. Not that it’s my business or any-”

“I’m fine,” she said, holding her bathrobe together with one hand as she placed her other one on his shoulder. “Thank you, Isaiah. Now, if you don’t mind,” she said, words dragging as she was sliding by him. “I’d like to take a bath.” His eyes followed her as she started to walk down the hall.

“Wait!” He called out her name, and she paused, but didn’t turn. “You don’t deserve that…any of it. And y’know, you don’t talk to me anymore…about anything. Once you went off to university, you just-”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, still not turning to him. Tears were laying heavy on her lids again. At one point when they were kids, the four of them would go off and cause mischief. But Finn was learning the family business, Martha was getting married, Isaiah was working under Tommy, and her? She wanted to study nursing. They were no longer kids. Instead, people with lives. It was a good day if she and Finn even had a conversation. What did she have to say sorry for? 

“Explain something to me,” he said, walking towards her. And it was his time to rest his hand on her shoulder. He spoke her name again and slid around her. It was her time to avert her eyes attempting to hide the wetness dripping down her cheeks. But Isaiah didn’t mind any of it. He knew she was crying. Gently, he cupped her face, but when she flinched, he dropped his hands. “What’s changed? Me and you?”

“Something had to have been for it to change,” she said, insinuating nothing had ever happened between her and him. He chuckled for a moment, itching the tip of his nose. “What?”

“It’s funny,” he said.

“I know, you laughed. I’m asking what is funny-”

“You,” he accused. “You’re funny, Miss. Shelby…you used to talk to me. We’d joke and dance. When Finn would fall asleep, it was you and I who’d finish off the whiskey and discuss life’s biggest questions.” 

“Times change-”

“You still live at home,” he said. “You still live at home. You go to the local university three days a week. You still frequent the same jazz clubs. You still go to the same parties! For fucks sake, you’re the same person…nothing changes that much in a few months.”

“Isaiah-”

“No.” He shook his head. His hands gently gripped her arms, thumbs caressing her. She felt her body gently be pushed against the wall, head lightly pressing against a wobbly picture frame. She knew which one…the painting of her father’s mother. “You’ll fuck around with Tiny Tim from art class who can’t even bother to got to the door and introduce himself to your father-”

“I don’t need my father’s approval,” she snorted. “I’m grown-”

“You’re eighteen,” he said. “Hardly grown. Plus, you’re a lady under your father’s care. It’s the sensible thing to do-”

“And you introduce yourself to every womens’ father? Especially the ones you fuck on a Friday night and leave the next morning?” 

Isaiah went quiet for a moment before saying, “no. I don’t. But that’s different. And don’t ask how because I’m not explaining casual sex to you.”

That’s when she eased herself a bit, laughing lightly. That was the girl he knew. “And you, Mr. Jesus, enjoy casual sex? Why don’t you want to explain it to me, eh?”

He matched her smile, resting his forehead on hers. “Because, Miss. Shelby, casual sex isn’t for ladies. Besides, I think your father would kill me.” She looked down, playing with her hands as she wore a little grin. Isaiah cupped her face, thumbs caressing her lips before moving down to hold her hands. “You are much more than a casual encounter, Miss. Shelby,” he said in a whisper, bringing her hands up to his lips, and kissing them. 

“But how do you know I don’t like casual encounters?” she teased, but he wasn’t having it.

“Shhh,” he said. “It’s not like that…you and I, and I refuse to let it be that.” 

“And are you my father?” she asked. “Everyone in this family thinks I’m-”

“Don’t,” he stopped her. “You’re deflecting. You knew exactly what I was saying-”

“That you’ll respect me in the morning?”

“Shhhh.” He kissed her cheek, lingering there for a moment before asking, “why not me? Huh? Why Tiny Tim and Stupid Steve and Dumb Danny and Asshole Adam and Prick Peter, but not me? Not idiot Isaiah-”

“I never dated boys with any of those names except a Peter-”

“You’re deflecting again,” he said. “Why not me?” Gently, he grabbed her chin and said, “I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of you unlike Tiny Tim….”

“Who is Tiny Tim?” she laughed, not exactly denying him. In fact, she snaked her arms around his waist and pulled him closer, feeling a sort of comfort in his chest. 

“That small fuck you were running around with last week,” he said, lowering his lips against hers. He brushed them against hers, a little smirk spread across his lips. She teased that he was being silly, but soon yelped as she felt him move his hands under her butt and lift her up. To hold herself steady, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Though he was pretty good about keeping her in place from the way he pressed her against the wall. “So, you didn’t answer me, why not? Why not me, Miss. Shelby? Huh?” 

“You never asked,” she grinned, just about pecking his lips. She pecked, but pulled away when he tried to lean in, teasing him. “So, I had to fuck around with Tiny Tim and Stupid Steve-”

“And Dumb Danny,” he added, moving in to kiss her, but she teased him again, biting his bottom lip. When he tried to rest his lips upon hers, she moved away again and kissed his jaw up to his ear, biting his lobe. 

“Don’t forget that prick Peter.”

“I want to forget,” he said, bracing her with his body weight and one hand while his other gripped her jaw, bringing her in. “C’mere,” he whispered, pressing his lips against hers. It was soft at first; just a string of pecks that became longer. His hand moved from her jaw and started to caress down her body. Without wanting to intrude, he slowly rested his hand upon her breast; not squeezing, just lightly running his hand along the curve before slipping it under the silk. As he moved it over her soft breast and down, the lacing came undone and the robe slipped down her shoulders. He stopped the string of light pecks and kisses, and asked, “we can stop if you’d like.” Shook her head, enjoying the feeling in her; warmth and excitement. She wasn’t an easy girl…her father made sure of that making sure she knew her worth. That’s probably why so many ‘boys’ left her…she never gave in so easy. 

She did him. Or was it really easy when it was something in the making from their youth? 

She licked at his bottom lip before nibbling and pulling it.  “Shhh,” she said as she took control, sucking and slipping her tongue between his lips, playing with him. Their pecks turned into fully blissful kissing that neither wanted to stop. Air was no longer important, they found as their lips followed each other’s movements. Her fingers tickled up the back of his neck to his hair before tangling in the curls. While his hand moved down her body, dancing over hips and walking over her thighs. Her skin was so soft, sweet, and innocent. He wanted nothing more, but to place a kiss over every inch of her body. For the first time, he felt like fucking was juvenile. It wasn’t about the sex. No. He wanted her close. It was all about the closeness. He wanted her so close to him that he could consume her. That he could just breathe her in and nothing else in the world would matter.

He pulled away, catching his breath, “sorry. Um, I don’t want to rush this.”

“What are we rushing?” she teased, trying to kiss him again, pressing herself against his aching crotch. 

“I want to take you to dinner,” he said, letting her down.  “I want to do it right. If I’m going to do this right with anyone, it’d be you. So, please, Miss. Shelby, can I take you to dinner?”

“I dunno,” she sang, reaching up and playing with his buttons. “Are you paying?”

He laughed out and shook his head, pinching her chin. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, alright,” she agreed, sliding from him and walking to her room. “But, you have to ask my father.” Isaiah grinned and eyed the phone on the small table downstairs. 

“Already on it, Miss. Shelby,” he called out. “What do you think I am? A lousy gangster?”

[ashblooddragons]

My Heart, My Ruin (Prolouge/?)

22 ac Kingslanding

Maegors pov

I could hear my good-sister's screams well into the night. I finally gave up trying to fid sleep once the hour of the owl came, I climbed out of my bed and went to where I knew my brother would be waiting until his wife had given birth to their child. She’s been in labor since yesterday at the hour of the wolf, surely she should have had the babe by now.

When I walked in I saw mother and father standing next to each other whispering as my brother sat in a chair sobbing.

“What’s wrong, she’s been in labor since yesterday, shouldn’t the babe be here?” I ask as I rub the drowsiness from my eyes. 

I watch mother and father look at each other silently having a conversation with only their eyes. Probably deciding if I should know or not. But it is not them who answers but my sniffling brother.

“The babe won’t come, the Maesters think Alyssa’s contractions are too weak.” Aenys sobs out.

“These are just guesses my son, they are giving her a concoction now to strengthen them.” Father says rubbing Aenys back as he sobs into his hands. 

I look at Mother and see a scowl on her face, she never liked how Father treats Aenys compared to me says he “treats him like some infant looking for their Mother’s teat.” and in this moment of watching his brother sob so openly, he wonders if his mother is right.

“What would happen if the concoction doesn’t work?” I ask looking from my brother to my Mother.

“Then we will have to choose who lives, the babe or the Mother.” Mother responds in a cold calculating tone. This only makes Aenys sob more.

“But it will not come to that, we have the greatest Maesters in all of the seven Kingdoms we have nothing to fear.” Father says trying to reassure Aenys again as he glares at Mother.

Mother scoffs and takes a sip of her amber gold wine, she doesn’t like it as much as Dornish red but ever since Rhaenys death she won’t touch anything to do with the Dornish. She often says. “They took my sister with that scorpion arrow, I suppose I am glad they had horrible aim and Meraxes did not perish either. If this, me not drinking their wine is the only way I can show how I hate them, then I will.” 

Mother and Father say Meraxes had seen the arrow coming, she had tried to dive so it wouldn’t his either her or Aunt Rhaenys, but she hadn’t noticed quick enough, and the arrow had split her in two. Meraxes has been inconsolable since her rider’s death, but Father has said he swears he sees her flying above Kingslanding over the last moon, as if looking, searching for something. This is odd as she much prefers the sulfur rocks and salty air of Dragonstone compared to Kingslandings stench and filth. 

I can not blame the dragon though, I do as well, I’d much rather be on our ancestral home instead of this filth-ridden city.

We all flinched, well besides Mother, when we hear a bone-chilling scream from Alyssa, and then it all went quiet. I hear Aenys sob more thinking his wife as perished until we hear the cries that only a healthy babe could make. 

Aenys bolts out of his chair and rushes to his wife, Mother, and Father not far behind them. I sigh in relief knowing I can finally get some much-needed sleep. 

The next morning I go to visit my new niece, when I enter I see my good-sister asleep on the birthing bed with new sheets dorning it so the stench of blood isn’t as pungent in the air. I turn and look at my brother who is smiling down at a bundle in his arms.

Are babes truly that small, Alyssa was huge and the bundle doesn’t even reach the length of my brother's forearm.

I’m cut out of my musing when Aenys looks at me smiling waving me over trying to keep quiet as to not wake his wife or the babe.

“Come meet your niece, Rhaella.” He says as he rests the babe into my arms making sure I hold her right.

When I look down I see her looking up at me with the most gorgeous lavender eyes I’ve ever seen, they take my take my breath away. I shake my head trying to gain my bearings again. 

“She’s so small, is she supposed to be this small?” I ask as I move some of the blanket to see a swarm of silver-white curls atop her little head.

“I had asked the Maesters the same thing, they said it’s normal for the first to be small.” He responds touching the tufts of hair upon her head. 

I nod not taking my eyes off hers, I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. I sit on a plush armchair staring at her, staring at the very being who seems to keep my heart pumping now, the very thing I will always adore and cherish, the one thing, one person I could never hurt. I knew in this moment she would be the very focal point of my heart, but she would also be my very ruin.

Series Masterlist

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the Header for this fic!!! I swear I'd be lost without you Girly!

@sugutoad @ilikefelines @baybaybear1 @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner

[pollka1]

Once upon a dream

Summary — Everything's...okay?

Genre — Fluff, angst

Characters — Josh Washington, Sam Giddings, Matt Taylor, Emily Davis, Jess Riley, Mike Munroe, Chris Hartley, Ashley Brown, Hannah Washington, Beth Washington

Warnings — None

Character speech is NOT colour coded for this fic

The scent of cinnamon and woodsmoke clung to the air. Somewhere in the background, a record player crackled to life with an old song—something soft, jazzy, full of nostalgia. Josh sank deeper into the worn couch cushions, a half-finished cup of cocoa in his hands, steam curling up toward his face.

“Okay, okay, but hear me out,” Mike said from across the room, dramatically waving a spoon. “If the marshmallows don’t melt a little, it’s not real cocoa. It’s just chocolate soup.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Emily shot back, perched on the arm of the loveseat. “It’s literally better if they don’t melt. You get texture.”

“Texture?” Matt repeated with a laugh. “It’s a drink, Em. It’s not a five-course meal.”

Beth snorted from the floor, where she was braiding Hannah’s hair. “Maybe we should just get you a spoonful of sugar and call it a day.”

“I’d eat it,” Jess chimed in, unwrapping a candy cane and sticking it in her mouth sideways like a pirate. “Argh, cocoa’s for softies.”

“Yeah, okay, Cap’n Cavity,” Sam said, nudging her with her socked foot.

Josh watched them, smiling to himself. It was chaos—the best kind. Chris and Ashley were huddled at the game table, arguing over whether or not to use their last clue in Clue, of all games.

“You’re wrong!” Chris insisted, holding the card like a lawyer mid-trial. “Colonel Mustard has always been shady.”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “Chris, you’ve said every character is shady. That’s not strategy. That’s paranoia.”

“Thank you!” Mike called. “Finally, someone says it!”

“You guys are lucky I’m a pacifist,” Chris mumbled, pretending to be wounded.

Laughter filled the room like the crackling fire—it danced along the walls, climbed into the rafters, and made the space feel like home. Josh just soaked it in. Every voice, every tease, every exaggerated groan of board-game betrayal.

Hannah looked up at him from where she sat cross-legged on the floor.

“Hey,” she said, grinning. “You okay, big bro?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling back. “I’m just...happy.”

“Gross,” Beth teased.

He flipped a cushion at her and missed. She tossed it right back, smacking him in the face. Everyone erupted in laughter, and Josh leaned back into the couch, laughing until his ribs ached.

The record switched tracks.

Then—

He blinked.

There was something off about the corner of the room. A tall, metal floor lamp. Thin. Too modern. Too...humming. Like it didn’t belong.

He frowned, tilting his head. No one else seemed to notice.

Jess jumped up and spun around dramatically. “Alright, I say we play charades next. Girls versus boys.”

“I accept,” Sam said instantly, cracking her knuckles. “Prepare to lose.”

Chris looked horrified. “Charades? Again? Last time Emily accused me of gaslighting her because I pretended to be a dolphin.”

“Because you did the worst dolphin impression ever,” Emily snapped.

“I panicked!”

Josh was still staring at the lamp.

It buzzed. Not loud, just enough to start scratching under his skin.

No one else noticed.

He turned to Sam beside him. “Hey, do you see that?”

She looked at him and smiled like she always did—warm, steady, kind. “What, the lamp?”

Josh nodded slowly.

“Looks fine to me,” she said, and reached out to touch his arm. “You sure you’re not just a little cocoa drunk?”

He gave a weak laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

The buzzing got louder.

He looked down at the mug in his hands.

Now it was metal. Not ceramic. Cold. Sterile. Empty.

His heart jumped.

Beth and Hannah were gone.

No one was speaking anymore.

The fire died out in an instant, like someone had yanked the film reel from a projector.

The lamp—

BZZZZZT.

It shattered in a sharp flicker of sparks.

Josh sat up with a gasp.

His throat was dry. His hospital-issue sheets stuck to his back with sweat. The room was too white, too quiet. Just a flickering lamp buzzing in the corner. Not warm. Not gold.

His friends were gone.

The lodge was gone.

Beth and Hannah were gone.

He brought a shaking hand to his face, pressing his fingers to his eyes. There was still cocoa in his mouth. Or maybe it was just the taste of something sweet turning bitter.

He turned his head toward the lamp. The same one from his dream.

Still buzzing.

Josh let himself fall back into the mattress. Not quite crying. Not quite breathing easy, either.

Just...flickering.

[sirenedeslily]

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐒 ‎𐦍 𝐦atthew 𝐬turniolo

❛ i’m 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 from the 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞. ❜

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 matt thought the crash was the first tremor, the first sign that everything was unraveling. but when yn vanished, the woods grew colder, the trees twisted into shadows, and nothing—not even their love—could hide from the dark that followed.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, angst, cannibalism (not too descriptive), psychological manipulation, slight use of religious imagery, trauma, gore, morally grey characters, death, this is set in a yellowjackets-inspired universe, drawing on the show’s general premise without incorporating its specific plot.. so no spoilers of the actual series !!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭, 3k !

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬, this fic’s plots is completely me, i cannot stress it enough !! while the yellowjacket girls make an appearance, i only borrowed the general themes of the crash and the cannibalism aspect from the show. what happens here is completely separate from the actual series, so the outcomes of the yellowjacket characters do not reflect their portrayal in the show. eeeeeeeenjoy

the crash wasn’t the worst part.

not the grinding sound of the engines tearing themselves apart mid-air, not the cabin screams that split the air sharper than metal, not the sick pull of gravity as we spiraled down. not even the splintered bodies lying limp in the wreckage. that part ended. it was brutal, yes, but quick. final.

the worst part came after.

the fear swallowed us whole, silent and endless. the trees whispered things that didn’t make sense, shadows moved at the edge of sight, and the fear burrowed into our bones, becoming a part of us. hunger, though, that was louder than any scream. it started small, a tremor, an ache, and then it became everything. it clawed through every thought, every shred of hope.

“we’ll make it.” that’s what matt said. his voice had this strange certainty, like words alone could hold back the dark. we were dragging scraps of metal and wood into a crude pile that might pass as shelter. his hands were red and raw. “you’re tough, yn. you’ll survive this.”

i nodded because i didn’t want to say what we were both thinking.

hunger changes people. you don’t notice it all at once, just the little cracks forming. one day, someone takes an extra bite from their ration. the next, someone else disappears into the woods, and when they come back, their pockets are empty, but their lips are slick. we watched each other through the smoke of the fire, saw the hollows forming in each other’s cheeks, the glint of something desperate in everyone’s eyes.

i was the first.

the others would pretend it was the forest, the cold, or god himself that took me. but it wasn’t. not really. it was them—their eyes, their hunger, their hands.

i didn’t climb that tree to save myself. i climbed it for matt. his stupid lighter, the one he swore was more important to him than anything else, had gotten stuck in the branches. he said it was the last piece of home he had, the last piece of himself.

so i climbed.

the bark splintered in my palms as i climbed higher, the wind ripping at my face. i didn’t think about the branches snapping beneath me or how far i’d fall. i didn’t think about myself at all.

i thought about him.

when the branch pierced my stomach, i didn’t scream. not at first. i just stared at it—jagged, wet, too much. then i slipped, and the second branch tore through my thigh.

i held onto the lighter. i held on even when i hit the ground.

but no one came.

i lay there for hours, the blood soaking into the dirt beneath me. i tried to crawl back, but the woods stretched on endlessly. my nails scraped against the earth, my breath hitched in my throat, and the sky flickered above, like a fading light—undecided, as though it couldn’t choose whether to help or simply watch me die.

by the second day, i was too weak to move. the blood had dried, sticky and black, and the roots curled around me like they were pulling me under. i tried to pray, but my voice cracked, so i bit into the dirt instead.

god didn’t save me.

but the woods were there.

they buried me beneath the leaves, letting the branches weave themselves through my skin. they made me part of them—part of everything.

the others didn’t find me until it was too late.

i remember the way they stared.

shauna cursed under her breath, her face hard like she was trying not to care. jackie gasped, her hands covering her mouth, her eyes filling with tears she wouldn’t let fall. nat turned away, and tai kept her arms crossed, biting the inside of her cheek like she wanted to disappear.

but matt…

matt knelt beside me, his hands trembling as he picked up the lighter from where it had fallen, his thumb brushing over the bloodstains on the metal.

he didn’t cry. he just stared at me, like he was seeing me for the first time.

i don’t know how long they left me there. maybe it was days. maybe weeks. the forest swallowed time like it swallowed me, stretching it out until they couldn’t take it anymore.

they stopped looking at me like i was yn—the girl who argued with nat about firewood, who laughed too loud when jackie told bad jokes, who kissed matt behind the cabin when no one else was looking.

they started looking at me like i was something else.

lottie was the first. she whispered that i was chosen, that the forest had claimed me but left me for them. she lit candles by my body, pressed her hands to the ground like she was trying to feel my heartbeat through the earth.

the others followed.

they stopped saying my name. they started calling me a gift. a sign. a saviour.

matt didn’t say a word.

but i could feel his hands, brushing the leaves from my hair, smoothing the blood from my cheeks. i could feel how he stayed by my side even as the others began to lose themselves.

it wasn’t devotion.

it was desperation.

and when the hunger finally broke them, it wasn’t lottie who made the first cut. it wasn’t shauna, or misty, or even tai.

it was matt.

i watched him with the knife in his hand, his jaw tight, his eyes dark. he told himself it was for them, that it was for me. but i knew the truth.

it wasn’t love that drove him. it was guilt.

the air was thick with smoke and desperation. they whispered things like “it’s what she would’ve wanted.” like that made it less cruel.

they consumed me piece by piece, carving me into something i never was. i felt it all—not the pain, but the betrayal. lottie whispered prayers as she chewed. shauna didn’t say a word. nat wouldn’t look at me, her shoulders shaking as she tried to convince herself this wasn’t what it was.

it took them weeks to tear me apart.

but it would take them years to forget.

matt wouldn’t, though.

he carried me with him, in the dirt beneath his fingernails, in the whispers of the trees, in the ache that settled in his chest every time he thought of me.

they called me an angel. a prophet.

but i wasn’t.

they called me a saviour. said i saved them. turned my name into something holy, something they could cling to when the guilt crept in.

they lied to themselves because the truth was too much to bear. i wasn’t their salvation. i wasn’t their light.

i was the first.

the first meal.

the wilderness turned me into something they could use. a forest maiden wrapped in moss, silent and still, hanging like the last line of a song.

the roots, the branches, the dirt. i was the hunger that twisted them into something monstrous.

and matt?

matt would never escape me.

because no matter how much of me he consumed, no matter how much he buried me beneath his guilt, he knew the truth.

i wasn’t a gift. i wasn’t salvation.

i was betrayal.

and he loved me anyway.

i lingered in him like rot.

everytime matt closed his eyes, i was there—my body stretched out on the forest floor, blood pooling beneath me, my fingers still curled around that lighter. he could still see the wounds, the gaping holes that the branches had carved into me. and he could still hear my voice, though he told himself it was just the wind moving through the trees.

i wasn’t letting him go.

the others moved on in their way. lottie twisted the story of my death into something holy, a sign of the forest’s will. she told them i had been chosen because i was pure, because i had given myself to something greater. they needed to believe it. they needed to make my suffering mean something.

shauna didn’t believe it—not really. but she clung to it anyway, like she clung to everything that made her feel powerful. she became a shadow of herself, the dog that lottie trained to obey. shauna sharpened the knives. shauna prepared the fires. shauna made it easy for them to swallow me, to carve me into pieces until i was unrecognizable.

jackie didn’t touch me.

she stayed in the cabin most days, silent and trembling, her eyes red and swollen. i think she knew what would happen to her next. it didn’t matter that she hadn’t eaten me, that she had refused to look at me once they carried my body back. she knew the forest wouldn’t spare her.

and nat—god, nat. she carried the weight of all of it on her shoulders. she cursed herself for not finding me sooner, for not hearing my screams. she never prayed with lottie, never touched the offerings. but she wasn’t innocent. she had eaten me too. they all had.

even matt.

especially matt.

he stayed by my side, even when the others began to look at me as a thing, a relic, a resource. he refused to leave the spot where they had placed me, curling his body around mine like i could still feel his warmth. he whispered to me when no one else was listening, told me he was sorry, told me it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

but his hands betrayed him.

when they carved into me, when they pulled me apart, matt didn’t look away. he didn’t stop them. he held the knife himself, trembling but determined. i don’t know what he told himself in those moments—maybe that i would’ve wanted this, that it was a kindness, that it was survival.

but i could feel him breaking.

he tried to bury what he had done, what they had all done. but i wouldn’t let him.

i was in the dirt he walked on, in the branches that scraped against the cabin windows at night, in the silence of the forest that stretched on for miles. i was in his mind, in the flicker of the lighter he couldn’t bear to throw away, in the breath he couldn’t seem to catch every time he thought of me.

matt loved me.

but love wasn’t enough to save me.

and now, it wasn’t enough to save him.

because i was everywhere now. in every shadow, in every prayer lottie whispered, in every crackling fire that reminded them of the warmth they had once known.

i was everything they had turned me into.

and i was never leaving.

they carried me with them. not my memory, not the person i was, but what i’d turned into. they left pieces of themselves in the leaves, the dirt, the jagged roots of the forest that had consumed me. but they carried pieces of me, too—in their blood, in their bones, in their guilt.

when they walked out of the wilderness and into the arms of rescue, i stayed behind.

the world called them survivors. they painted them as heroes, as victims, as something worth saving. they didn’t know the truth. they didn’t know what they did to me, how they turned me into something i wasn’t

but matt—matt still visits me. not the real me, not the girl i was before the crash, but the idea of me that he’s convinced himself exists. he comes every year, kneeling at the polished stone that bears my name. it isn’t really my grave—just a polished stone with my name on it, a symbol for the girl you needed me to be. a hollow monument, as hollow as the promises he whispered into my dead ears.

“you saved us,” he whispers sometimes, like saying it enough times might make it true.

but i wasn’t their saviour.

i was their sacrifice.

and they had no right to me.

he brings lilies every time—delicate, white, pristine as the snow that buried jackie later, pristine as the image of me he’s built in his head. he lays them down carefully, his hands shaking as if the act itself is sacred.

i hate the lilies.

he doesn’t talk much, just sits there for hours like the weight of my name carved into stone might somehow balance the weight on his chest. Sometimes he cries, quiet and ashamed, like he knows i’m watching, like he can feel the anger twisting in the empty space i’ve become.

but other times.. most times, he’s silent. not out of peace, but out of exhaustion. he looks thinner every year, his face pale and hollow, haunted by the ghosts he doesn’t dare name aloud.

i wonder if he hears me. if he can feel the cold breath of my resentment when the wind rustles the trees or the sharp edge of my betrayal in the silence that stretches between us.

it doesn’t matter.

none of their apologies matter.

because i am not that girl in the stories they tell themselves to sleep at night.

tai, who circled like a vulture, never touching but always hungry, until she finally sank her teeth into me, reshaping me into something twisted, something unrecognizable; nat, who whispered quiet lies into my ear, feeding me fragments of myself until there was nothing left but the hollow echo of who i used to be; shauna, who sharpened the knives and prepared the fire but pretends she wasn’t the first to look at me with that kind of hunger. van, who laughed too loudly and cried too quietly and ate me anyway. misty, who smiled as she said my name, who let herself believe it was all just survival. even lottie, with her empty eyes and her false divinity, calling me something holy while she carved into me like i was already gone.

they all came at first.

in the weeks after they were found, they came with trembling hands and whispered prayers. they placed offerings at my grave—tokens of their guilt disguised as gratitude. “you saved us,” they said, over and over, as if they could rewrite what happened with repetition alone.

but then they stopped coming.

the world beyond the wilderness swallowed them whole, wrapped them in warmth and comfort until they could almost forget the cold. almost.

nat tells herself that every breath she takes is a result of my sacrifice. she thinks of me when she looks in the mirror, when the guilt weighs heavy on her chest. she pretends that my death was necessary, that it’s what kept her alive, but she knows the truth—she watched as i was consumed, and she couldn’t stop it.. didn’t stop it.

tai tells herself that what she did was survival, that it wasn’t personal. she thinks of me when she’s alone in the dark, when the night feels too quiet. she pretends that my end was just another part of the game, but the truth gnaws at her, and she can never quite forget the way she let it happen.

shauna tells herself that every joy in her life is my gift to her. she thinks of me when her daughter laughs, when the candles on the birthday cake flicker in the warm light of her kitchen. she pretends my death bought her happiness.

van dreams of me, sometimes, though she never speaks my name. she sees me in the shadows, in the dirt beneath her fingernails, in the roots that still cling to her boots when she wakes. she tastes me in the back of her throat, bitter and rotten.

misty doesn’t dream at all.

and lottie—lottie prays to me. even now, even after everything, she still believes i was chosen, that i was destined to feed the earth, to become the roots and the trees and the endless, hungering dark.

but matt—matt keeps coming back. year after year, he carries my ghost with him, dragging it behind him like a broken promise. he looks at the stone, and i wonder if he’s seeing me or the version of me he created to survive.

i wasn’t a saviour. i wasn’t a martyr. i wasn’t the girl who gave herself willingly for the sake of the group.

i was terrified. i was angry. i died clutching the edges of my own fading humanity, praying that someone, anyone, would remember me as i was, not as what they turned me into.

but the wilderness doesn’t let you stay human.

it hollows you out. it makes you a vessel for hunger, for fear, for survival. and when it’s done, it spits you back out into the world, a monster in the shape of a person.

matt isn’t a monster, not in the way the others are.

he’s worse.

he’s the one who carries the weight of all their sins. he’s the one who lets it break him, piece by piece, as if his suffering could ever be enough to absolve them.

but guilt isn’t justice.

it’s not forgiveness, and it’s not redemption. It’s just another kind of hunger, gnawing away at the edges of his soul.

i want to scream at him, shake him, make him see that his penance means nothing to me.

but he doesn’t know me either.

none of them do.

they don’t know the girl who climbed that tree because matt’s lighter was stuck at the top and he couldn’t sleep without it. they don’t know the girl who laughed too loudly, who loved too fiercely, who was afraid of the dark but never said it out loud. they don’t know the girl who screamed when the branch stabbed through her side, who crawled, bleeding and broken, through the dirt while the wilderness swallowed her whole.

they don’t know the girl who died alone, hungry, cold, choking on dirt she thought might keep her alive just a little longer.

all they know is the version of me they created.

the saint. the saviour. the pretty girl consumed by death.

you don’t know the girl i was, the girl i could’ve been if you hadn’t taken everything from me. and now, i am the trees, the roots, the forest itself. i am the thing you buried and the thing you carry, and you will never escape me.

matt, you will never know me. no matter how many lilies you bring, no matter how many hours you spend staring at that stone, whispering apologies i’ll never accept.

i am not your saviour.

i am the girl you betrayed.

and every year, when the lilies bloom and the wind whispers through the trees, I wonder if you feel it—if you hear my voice, sharp and cold as the wilderness that made us.

you don’t even know me.

and you never will.

the wilderness stripped us bare, turned us into something monstrous, something less than human. you think you carried me out of it, but i was gone long before you walked away. i’m hanging from the tree, suspended in your mind, a phantom you can’t escape.

i hope you know i loved you. even after everything, even after the lies and the hunger and the fire, i loved you. but i wasn’t your saviour. i wasn’t your salvation.

i was just a girl—a girl who loved, and in the end, that was all i was allowed to be.

𝒢𝜚 💭 ࣪ ✸ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ∿ we knew this was bound to happen as the #1 yellowjacket truther.. sneaked in some jackieshauna and lottieshauna for my own personal benefit :p also i know it’s repetitive but it’s purposeful.. omg send me asks ab this plsplspls

❝ 𝟐𝟐𝟐 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @flouvela @eternaldecisions @elizabebabe @ncm9696 @marrykisskilled

❝ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @l34n @sturniolossss @lovingregulusblack @cl1tlover3000 @mattslolita @mattssgf @le4hsblog @brvtall @mattscoquette @chratts-left-ball @jetaimevous @angelesqve @starlace111 @secretlocket @starkeyszn @etherealval @slut4chriss @star-yawnznn @nickmillersn1gf @sturnsmia @tastesousweet @strnilolover @xoxo4chrisss @madifilipowiczslvt