#if i slam my head into the wall hard enough things will get fixed

[mocchiixxx]

Words in Ruin Series # | 07 : Lee Jihoon (Woozi) 🍚

Genre: Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Breakdown, Reconciliation, Slow Realization

Warnings: Emotional yelling, miscommunication, insecurities, guilt, self-blame, heavy crying

Summary: To the world, Woozi is the quiet genius; the producer, the perfectionist, the heart of SEVENTEEN’s sound. But that brilliance comes at a cost. The sleepless nights, the endless revisions, the self-inflicted pressure to outdo himself, again and again, bleeds into every part of his life, even the part where he’s supposed to feel safe: with you. One night, when words snap and tears fall, he realizes music isn’t the only thing that needs harmony. And this time, he might have composed the most painful silence of all.

It was nearing 2:00 a.m. when you heard it, the unmistakable slam of a door echoing through the thin walls of the studio.

That wasn’t like him.

Lee Jihoon didn’t slam things. He didn’t raise his voice. He internalized. Drowned himself in arrangements and demo revisions until even time gave up trying to keep track of him. But tonight, something was unraveling.

You stood from the tiny studio couch you’d been quietly curled up on for the past two hours, watching him mix, waiting for a moment to speak, hoping he’d pause long enough to breathe. You carried over the still-warm cup of coffee you'd made for him earlier and cautiously opened the door.

“Jihoon?” you called gently.

He didn’t answer. He was hunched in front of the monitor, fingers clenched into fists, knuckles white.

“Ji…?” you stepped in slowly.

He finally spoke, but not to you— more to the air, to himself. “Why can’t I get this right?”

You placed the cup on the table beside him. “You’ve been working non-stop. Maybe you just need to step away for a bit to clear your head.”

“I can’t,” he said sharply. Then, quieter: “I don’t have time to rest.”

You blinked. “Jihoon, you haven’t eaten since lunch. You’ve barely spoken to me in days. You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

He finally turned to face you, and the look in his eyes caught you off guard.

Frustration, yes, but also exhaustion… and something worse: fear.

“Don’t start this again,” he muttered. “Not tonight.”

Your chest tightened. “Start what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely between you. “The lectures. The concern. Like I’m a child who doesn’t know his limits.”

Your lips parted in disbelief. “I’m not lecturing you. I’m loving you.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” he snapped.

Silence...

Pain bloomed in your chest, sharp and fast.

Jihoon realized too late what he’d said. His mouth opened slightly, but no apology came out. Just silence.

You took a step back, eyes stinging. “You didn’t ask me to… But I did. I chose to stay. To wait. To be here. Because I care. And you’re throwing that back in my face?”

His jaw clenched. “You don’t understand. You’ve never had millions of people waiting for your next track. You don’t know what it’s like to feel like everything you produce is never good enough.”

“I don’t have to be a producer to know when someone is breaking,” you whispered. “You’re not a machine, Jihoon. You’re human. You can’t keep living like this, treating sleep like a privilege and love like a distraction.”

He stood now, face stormy. “So what? are you giving me an ultimatum now? You or the music?”

You shook your head slowly, tears finally slipping free. “No. I would never make you choose between me and the thing you love most. I just… I just wish I was somewhere on the list.”

His expression faltered.

You turned to leave. “I’ll go. Since being here is just getting in your way.”

He didn’t stop you.

Not immediately.

Because Jihoon didn’t know how to fix things that weren’t broken chords or off-beat rhythms. He could mend audio clips and rearrange harmonies, but heartbreak? Human emotion? You?

That scared him more than any production deadline ever could.

3:47 a.m.

The studio was quiet now.

The track sat on the screen, unfinished, unbalanced, and hollow.

Just like him.

The untouched cup of coffee still sat by the console. The one you made with tired hands and a hopeful heart.

He reached for it and finally felt the cold.

His fingers curled around the mug, and he swore he could still feel the warmth of you in it. That’s when the guilt hit him, fast, consuming, brutal.

He left the studio without saving the track.

He didn’t care anymore.

Back at the apartment, he pushed open the door gently, afraid of what he might find. Or worse— what he wouldn’t.

But you were there.

Curled up on the edge of the bed, hugging a pillow, your back to him. Small, quiet, still.

“Y/N…” he said, voice hoarse from more than just overuse.

You didn’t answer.

He moved closer, sitting carefully at the foot of the bed.

“I was wrong,” he whispered. “So, so wrong.”

Still, you said nothing. And somehow, that was worse than yelling.

“I took everything out on you when all you did was love me,” he continued, voice shaking. “I let the pressure get so loud that I stopped hearing the most important person in the room.”

You shifted slightly, but didn’t look at him.

“I told you I didn’t ask for your help,” he said softly. “But that wasn’t true. I needed it. I just didn’t know how to say it. I thought… if I let you see how messy I really am, you'd think less of me.”

Finally, your voice came... fragile and raw.

“Do you really think love only survives perfection?”

His head dropped.

“No,” he admitted. “But maybe… I thought I had to deserve you first. Like if I failed, if I cracked even a little… you’d see I wasn’t worth staying for.”

You turned to face him now, eyes swollen and cheeks damp. “I’ve already seen you crack, Jihoon. I stayed. Not because you’re perfect. But because you’re you.”

He closed his eyes tightly. “I said such awful things tonight.”

“You did,” you said honestly. “And they hurt.”

A beat of silence.

“But… I also saw the man behind those words. The one drowning in expectations. The one who forgot that love isn’t supposed to be another performance.”

He reached for your hand, slowly and really carefully, like he was asking permission.

“I want to be better,” he said. “Not just for the fans. Not just for the group. For us. For you.”

You let him take your hand.

“I don’t need perfect tracks,” you said. “I need my Jihoon to come home. Even if he's tired. Even if he’s broken. Just… come home.”

Tears finally slipped from his eyes then.

Real, vulnerable tears.

He pulled you into him, burying his face in your neck like a child seeking shelter. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to push you away. I was just… so lost.”

You stroked his back gently, feeling his shoulders tremble. “I know. But next time, don’t wait until we’re both falling apart.”

He pulled back, cupping your cheek. “Next time, I won’t. Next time, I’ll write us a better ending.”

You leaned into his touch, eyes glassy but steady.

“Or maybe,” you whispered, “we’ll compose one together.”

He smiled through the tears.

For the first time in weeks… he felt like breathing again.

Taglist: @babycaratdeul @viacb97 @christinewithluv

[lone-is-papyrus]

I'm just going to fucking kill myself

I hate health insurance

Just take my god damn money motherfuckers, this shouldn't be that hard. It's right there for Primus's sake

[kateschi]

don't make it weird

synopsis: you fix things. he breaks things. somehow, this feels like the beginning of a very complicated maintenance schedule.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!support!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: i CAN'T with this man i love him

the door slams open hard enough to rattle the tools hanging on the wall.

you don’t look up right away.

mostly because you’re elbow-deep in the exposed wiring of a damaged support item, but also because you’ve worked in this repair shop long enough to recognize the type.

heavy boots thud against the worn floor. there’s the distinct scent of burnt fabric, metal, and something sharper—nitroglycerin.

it’s a pro hero. and a pissed-off one, by the sound of it.

“oi.”

you sigh, wiping your forehead with the back of your wrist before finally glancing up.

and there he is—bakugou katsuki, standing in the middle of your shop like he owns the place, shoulders squared, posture tense.

he’s still in his full hero gear, minus the gauntlets, which he holds in one hand.

they’re charred, the inner mechanisms partially exposed, the reinforced metal plating dented in places you’re not sure should even be possible.

he shoves them onto the counter with a thud, red eyes locked onto yours.

“can you fix ‘em?”

you lean back against your workbench, wiping grease-streaked hands on your coveralls as you take him in fully.

he’s scowling like someone just insulted his entire bloodline, arms tense, jaw set. there’s a thin cut just above his brow, a smear of soot along his cheekbone.

you doubt he even noticed.

you, on the other hand, are just exhausted.

“you’re bakugou, right?”

his eye twitches. “obviously.”

“then you should know your gauntlets aren’t exactly easy to repair.” you tilt your head, dragging your fingers over the jagged edges of the damage. “who worked on ‘em before?”

bakugou crosses his arms. “support team at my agency.”

“uh-huh. and they kicked you out, didn’t they?”

a muscle ticks in his jaw, which is all the confirmation you need.

you exhale sharply through your nose, finally pulling his gloves toward you for a closer look. the weight is familiar in your hands, but the extent of the damage isn’t something you see every day.

“gonna take a while,” you tell him, rolling your shoulders before reaching for your tools. “come back in a few days.”

bakugou scoffs, a sharp, irritated sound. “the hell kinda shop is this? don’t you people do rush orders?”

“I do if I like the customer.” you flash a too-sweet smile, tapping a finger against the metal casing. “you’re not there yet.”

his scowl deepens, fingers twitching at his sides. for a second, you think he’s going to argue, but then he just clicks his tongue and turns on his heel.

the door slams behind him.

you shrug and get to work.

two days later, the bell above the shop door jingles violently, more from force than necessity. the entrance swings open with enough momentum that it nearly slams against the wall.

you don’t bother looking up because you already know who it is.

heavy bootsteps echo across the floor, purposeful and impatient.

the smell of burnt fabric and faint nitroglycerin lingers in the air, mixing with the scent of oil and metal shavings.

you keep your eyes on your workbench.

“shop’s closed,” you say, voice even, fingers steady as you adjust the wiring on a half-repaired gauntlet.

“don’t care.”

of course he doesn’t.

you finally glance up, finding bakugou katsuki standing in the middle of your shop like he owns the place. his gauntlets—still charred, still in desperate need of repair—hang at his sides.

his eyes are locked onto you.

you nod toward the stool in the corner. “sit there and shut up.”

he grumbles something under his breath—probably about your damn attitude—but he listens, dropping onto the stool with a barely contained huff.

you feel him before you see him. it’s like sitting next to a live wire.

he’s not a man built for stillness, and it shows—the way his fingers drum impatiently against his thigh, the restless flex of his arms, the slight bounce of his knee.

minutes stretch between you, the only sounds filling the room being the quiet hum of machines and the precise clicks of your tools.

then—

“how the hell did you end up doin’ this anyway?”

you pause, fingers tightening around a wrench before shifting slightly to glance at him over your shoulder.

“you mean fixing broken things for stubborn heroes?”

his eye twitches. “s’not what I meant.”

a lazy shrug. “I like making things. always have. didn’t wanna be a hero, but I still wanted to help.”

bakugou hums lowly, head tilting slightly, like he’s actually thinking about it.

which is impressive, considering patience isn’t exactly his strong suit.

another stretch of silence follows, longer this time.

then—

“they done?”

you click your tongue. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

the words spill out before your brain catches up.

and the moment they do—

you freeze.

across the room, bakugou stiffens like a live grenade, head snapping toward you so fast you half expect to hear a crack. his eyes widen, flickering with something unreadable—shock, maybe? amusement?

you’re not looking close enough to find out.

you clear your throat, face heating. “I meant your gloves are cute. functional. whatever.”

a slow shift.

his lips curve, the corners twitching upward into something dangerous, something smug.

“you think I’m cute?”

“no.”

he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, amusement flickering behind his eyes. “you just said—”

“I said the gloves—”

“uh-huh.”

“shut up.”

his smirk widens, but—for once—he doesn’t push further.

and when you finally hand over his gloves, he flexes his fingers, testing the fit, and grunts.

“not bad.”

which, coming from him, might as well be high praise.

he keeps coming back after that.

sometimes his gauntlets are actually broken. other times, you’re almost positive he just finds an excuse to show up.

a busted strap here, a dent there—things that a hero like him could fix himself if he really wanted to. but he doesn’t. instead, he plants himself in your shop, arms crossed, shoulders squared like he belongs there.

you don’t call him out on it.

mostly because it’s kind of nice having him around.

not that you’d admit it.

one afternoon, he leans against your counter, his weight making it creak slightly under him.

his arms are crossed, biceps straining against the fabric of his black tee, and his gaze is unreadable—steady, but not as sharp as usual.

like he’s thinking too much about something.

“oi.” his voice cuts through the quiet hum of your workspace. “you ever take breaks?”

you blink up at him from behind the goggles perched on your head, adjusting the strap absentmindedly. “what?”

“you’re always here.” his brows pull together slightly, a crease forming between them. he looks almost… annoyed. “you ever get out?”

you snort, grabbing a screwdriver and turning back to your work. “and do what? go on a date?”

there’s a pause.

a long one.

the air shifts, charged in a way that makes your fingers tighten around the tool in your hand.

you frown, glancing up just in time to catch the way his jaw clenches.

his gaze flickers across your face, something unreadable swirling in his red eyes before he schools his expression again.

“…you got a problem with that?”

you arch a brow, waiting, watching. “you got a problem if I do?”

his scowl deepens, and his weight shifts slightly, like he’s uncomfortable. his fingers flex against his bicep, a sign of irritation—or hesitation, maybe.

“no. just figured you’d be too busy fixin’ shit for idiots heroes.”

you tilt your head, smirking slightly. “so you admit you’re an idiot?”

he clicks his tongue, sharp and quick. “I am not one of them. plus, that ain’t the damn point.”

“then what is the point, bakugou?”

his gaze snaps back to yours.

there’s something behind his eyes now—determined, stubborn, a little reckless. his lips part slightly, like he’s about to say something, but he hesitates, just for a fraction of a second.

and then—

“you got plans tonight?”

your brain short-circuits.

you open your mouth, then close it, blinking. “you asking me on a date?”

he exhales sharply, like he’s already regretting this, like you’re the one making things complicated. “I’m askin’ if you wanna grab dinner. don’t make it weird.”

you stare at him for a second, screwdriver still clutched in your hand, the weight of his words settling in the small space between you.

it’s not exactly romantic.

but, somehow, it’s so him.

your lips twitch, amusement bubbling up despite the way your heart has decided to trip over itself. “alright, dynamight. you’re paying.”

bakugou scoffs, rolling his eyes, but there’s something almost…relieved in the way his shoulders relax a fraction. “yeah, yeah. hurry up.”

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[misswynters]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝 Part One

pairing. ambessa x reader x sevika

warnings. kissing, sparring and kissing, touching, neck kisses, pet names (darling)

wc. i have no idea (i went overboard)

synopsis. You were sent on a mission to train sevika for an underground tournament, by non other than the tyrant herself, Ambessa Merdarda.

a/n. there needs to be more of these because i am in need. i keep making part twos because im indecisive also let me know if there’s any misspelling

note. it would greatly appreciated if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you!

Sweat clung to your brow as you stepped into the training room, its atmosphere oppressive and bathed in a dim crimson glow. The walls, which were made of steel, echoed with every movement. Scuffed mats covered sections of the concrete floor, marked by years of punishment from brutal sparring matches. Ambient heat radiated from flickering red lights overhead, casting jagged shadows that seemed to ripple with every movement. It wasn’t an ideal space for training, but Zaun didn’t do luxury, and neither did Ambessa.

Ambessa’s voice rang out from the elevated platform at the far end of the room, her piercing gaze fixed on the two of you. “Again,” she ordered, her tone sharp enough to cut through the humid air. “Don’t hold back this time. You’re wasting my time if you’re not going to make her bleed.”

Resentment prickled under your skin, but you bit your tongue. Ambessa’s presence had been the only thing keeping you in this hell of an assignment. Training Sevika for an underground tournament had sounded ridiculous when the offer first came to you. Why would a battle maiden brute like her need anyone’s help. But Ambessa had insisted, claiming your expertise was “essential” to Zaun’s victory. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Sevika stood in front of you, her large frame coiled with tension. Her metal arm glinted under the lights as her breathing stayed steady. Her gaze looked betrayed with annoyance. She wasn’t thrilled about being told what to do, let alone by you. The feeling was mutual. “You ready for another bruising, princess?” Sevika taunted, cracking her knuckles.

Rolling your eyes, you dropped into a fighting stance. “Keep talking, and I’ll make sure your metal arm isn’t the only thing out of commission.”

Her grin was predatory. “Such big words for someone so small.”

The session resumed with a flurry of blows. Sevika lunged first, her movements quick despite her size. You ducked under her swing, your fist connecting with her side. The impact barely fazed her, but it was enough to get her attention. She retaliated with a sweeping kick, forcing you to leap back to avoid losing your footing. The clash of flesh and metal echoed in the room as the two of you exchanged blows, your mutual irritation fueling every strike.

Sevika was too strong to take head-on. So you relied on precision and agility, darting around her strikes and aiming for weak spots. But Sevika wasn’t stupid. She adapted quickly, her strikes coming faster and more calculated. Her metal fist grazed your ribs at one point, and the shock of it made you stumble.

“Getting tired already, sweetheart?” she sneered, wiping the sweat from her brow with her forearm.

“Hardly,” you shot back, charging at her with renewed energy.

Your next strike caught her off guard. A perfectly timed uppercut sent her stumbling backward. You didn’t stop, delivering a swift kick to her midsection that knocked her off balance. She hit the ground hard, her body slamming against the concrete with a grunt. For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing.

“Stay down,” you said, wiping your hands on your pants.

But Sevika didn’t stay down. With a growl, she lunged at you like a wild animal. Her strength caught you off guard, and before you could react, she had you pinned to the cold floor. The impact knocked the air from your lungs, and you gasped as her full weight pressed against you.

Sevika’s metal hand gripped both of your wrists, pinning them above your head. Her other hand rested on your shoulder, keeping you firmly in place. You struggled, but her strength was overwhelming.

“Not so cocky now, are ya?” she panted, her voice low and dripping with satisfaction. Sweat dripped from her forehead onto your cheek, and the heat of her body seeped into yours.

“Let me up,” you growled, glaring at her.

Her lips curled into a smirk as she leaned closer, her face mere inches from yours. “Now why would i do that? You look good down there.”

Your pulse quickened, though you told yourself it was from exertion. “You’re enjoying this wayyyy too much.”

“Maybe,” Sevika admitted, her voice a husky whisper. “But I think you are too.” Her chest heaved with every breath, the fabric of her tank top clinging to her damp skin. The scent of sweat and iron filled the air, mingling with something deeper, something unspoken. Her gray eyes bore into yours, challenging you, daring you to say something, to do something. But neither of you moved. The world outside the training room seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you in this heat of a moment.

“You’re stronger than I expected,” Sevika muttered, her voice softer now. “Almost makes me want to keep you around.”

“Almost?” you shot back, your voice tight. “Guess I’ll have to try harder.”

Her smirk widened. “You can try, but you wouldn’t succeed.”

Ambessa’s voice cut through the moment like a blade. “Enough!” she barked, her tone sharp and commanding. “If you two are done flirting, we have a tournament to prepare for.”

Ambessa’s voice thundered through the training room before either of you had the chance to speak. “What in the hell is going on here?” Her presence filled the room instantly, her commanding tone freezing both you and Sevika in place.

Her boots clanged against the concrete as she strode forward, her towering frame illuminated by the dim red glow. Dressed in training gear, Ambessa looked more like a war goddess than a general with her broad shoulders and powerful arms on full display. A simple black sports bra wrapped tightly around her chest as her glistened abs catch the faint light.

“Off,” she barked, her sharp gaze locking on Sevika.

Sevika, who rarely flinched at anything, hesitated for a split second before pulling back. Her expression was tight with frustration, but she obeyed, releasing your wrists and standing. The loss of her warmth was immediate as the cold floor pressed against your back.

Ambessa stepped in without missing a beat, gripping Sevika’s arm and pulling her upright effortlessly. “Do you think this is some kind of game?” Her voice was low, dangerous, as she squared off with Sevika.

Sevika yanked her arm back, her jaw tightening. “She hit me. I hit her back.”

“You pinned her like a street brawler,” Ambessa snapped, her voice cutting through the charged air. “This isn’t some tavern scuffle. You’re supposed to be training, not rolling around like a fool.”

“She’s the one who pushed me,” Sevika shot back, her chest heaving as she stepped closer. The heat in her gaze didn’t waver, and the muscles in her arms flexed with tension.

Still lying on the ground, you watched the two women square off, rooted in place by the sheer energy between them. Ambessa’s imposing frame radiated authority, her dark eyes blazing, while Sevika bristled like a cornered beast, her fists clenched tightly at her sides.

“Pushed you?” Ambessa’s voice dropped to a near growl. She took another step forward, her tone mocking. “What are you, a child? You’re supposed to be stronger than this.”

“Maybe if you didn’t bark orders from a balcony, you’d see how this fight actually went,” Sevika bit back, her voice dripping with venom. Her muscles tensed beneath the fabric of her tank top, the strain of holding back her frustration evident in every line of her body.

Ambessa’s laugh was sharp and humorless, cutting through the suffocating air. “Careful, Sevika. You’re one poorly thrown punch away from losing that metal arm.”

Sevika’s lips twisted into a snarl, her voice rising as she stepped into Ambessa’s space. “And you’re one more order away from learning I don’t take kindly to being treated like a damn pawn.”

Every word exchanged felt like a spark, each one igniting the fire between them further. You remained where you were, watching from the ground as the red lights painted their figures like some living, breathing battle scene.

Ambessa tilted her head slightly, her piercing gaze narrowing. “You think this is about you?” she asked, her voice quiet but filled with dangerous intent. She took a step closer, the heat from her body palpable even from where you lay. “You’re nothing without me. You wouldn’t have that arm, that strength, or this opportunity. So don’t test me, Sevika.”

For a moment, Sevika didn’t respond, her jaw tight as her gaze flickered to the floor before locking onto Ambessa again. Then, like a wave breaking, the anger in her expression shifted into something more intimate replacing it.

“Nothing without you?” Sevika’s voice dropped, her tone low and measured, sending a shiver down your spine. “You think you own me because you gave me this?” She raised her metal arm, flexing it deliberately. “Don’t fool yourself. I’ve earned every inch of what I am.”

Ambessa didn’t back down, stepping even closer until their chests were nearly brushing. “Then prove it. Because right now, all I see is someone too stubborn to recognize when they’re being tested.”

The air between them shifted. Their breathing was heavy, their bodies so close you swore you could see the tension vibrating between them. Ambessa’s hand raised slightly, and for a second, you thought she might push Sevika, or worse, strike her. But her fingers caught the strap of Sevika’s tank top instead, her grip firm.

“You talk about earning it,” Ambessa said, her voice softer now, her words dripping with sharpness. “But have you earned this?”

Sevika didn’t flinch, though her chest rose and fell faster, her gray eyes locked onto Ambessa’s dark ones. “I’ve earned more than you think,” she said, her voice just as quiet, though there was a slight tremor. The aggression in Sevika’s stance softened, though her muscles remained taut, her body coiled and ready. Ambessa’s imposing presence didn’t falter, but the edge in her gaze dulled ever so slightly.

“You’re reckless,” Ambessa murmured, her fingers still resting against Sevika’s shirt.

“Tyrant bitch,” Sevika shot back, though there was no bite to her words.

They were so close now, their tension-filled standoff transforming into something you couldn’t quite name. You should’ve looked away, should’ve gotten up and interrupted, but you couldn’t. The sight of them, Ambessa’s glistening abs under the red lights and Sevika’s tank top clinging to her damp skin. It was mesmerizing.

The sparring session between Ambessa and Sevika had turned into a spectacle of raw power and dominance. The two women circled each other, muscles taut and glistening under the red light as they calculated their next moves. The tension in the room was almost unbearable, the charged atmosphere making it impossible to look away.

Sevika lunged first, her movements swift. Ambessa parried with ease, her stature and experience giving her the upper hand. The clash of their bodies reverberated through the room, their strength evenly matched, though Ambessa carried herself with an effortless grace that only came from years of battle.

Whereas, you sat on the couch in the corner with your legs crossed and your hands gripping the cushion tightly as you watched. The intensity between them was magnetic, and you felt heat creeping up your neck as you took it all in. The way Ambessa’s muscles shifted with every movement, the sheer power in her strikes. It was impossible not to admire her.

Sevika grunted as Ambessa caught her wrist mid-strike, twisting her arm behind her back in one fluid motion. “You’re too easy to predict,” Ambessa said, her voice low and laced with authority.

Sevika growled, twisting to free herself, but Ambessa didn’t let go. Instead, she pinned Sevika’s arms together, holding them in place with one hand. The strength in that single motion was enough to make your jaw drop. You could see the flex of her biceps, the veins on her forearm standing out as she kept Sevika completely immobilized.

You swallowed hard, feeling your cheeks flush. It wasn’t just the display of power that made your stomach flip, it was the way Ambessa looked doing it. She was in complete control, her eyes burning with determination.

Ambessa leaned in close, her lips brushing against Sevika’s ear. Whatever she whispered was too quiet for you to hear, but the way Sevika’s ears turned pink told you enough. Sevika was blushing. Their breathing was labored, their chests pressed against each other in a way that blurred the lines between aggression and intimacy. They were similar in height and strength that it was hard to tell who had the upper hand, though Ambessa’s control of the situation made it clear she was the dominant one.

You shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the way your body was reacting to the scene in front of you. The way they moved, the tension between them. it was impossible not to feel flustered. Your eyes flicked to Ambessa’s back, the muscles there flexing as she held Sevika in place, and then to Sevika’s jaw, clenched tightly in frustration.

And then, with a sharp motion, Ambessa threw Sevika to the ground. The impact echoed through the room, but before Sevika could recover, Ambessa straddled her waist, pinning her completely. Her hands pressed into the concrete on either side of Sevika’s head, caging her in.

For a moment, they just looked at each other. Ambessa’s gaze was piercing, and Sevika’s was equally defiant, though there was a flicker of something soft beneath her frustration. The proximity between them was almost suffocating, their breaths mingling as they stared each other down.

From your spot on the couch, you felt a pang of jealousy twist in your chest. You hated to admit it, but the sight of them like this: with Ambessa in complete control and Sevika pinned beneath her. You couldn’t deny what it made you feel. You were indecisive, whether you wanted to be in Ambessa’s place or Sevika’s.

Ambessa finally broke the moment, her head turning slightly in your direction. “Darling,” she called, her voice smooth and inviting.

Your heart skipped a beat. She rarely used that tone with you, and when she did, it always made your pulse race. You stood hesitantly, your legs feeling weak as you approached them.

“C’mere,” Ambessa said again, her eyes darkening as she watched you. You obeyed without question, moving closer until you were kneeling beside the two women. Ambessa shifted her attention back to Sevika for a moment, her thumb brushing against Sevika’s jawline before she finally let go of her. Sevika sat up slightly, her breathing still heavy as she stared at Ambessa, her lips parted as though she wanted to a near whisper. "Do you want her?"

The question hit you like a shit ton of bricks. Your eyes widened, and you quickly shook your head. "What? No, I-"

Ambessa tilted her head, a faint smirk playing at her lips. "Come on. there’s no need lie," she said, her voice soft but dangerous. "I've seen the way you look at her."

It’s true i-" you started, but your words caught in your throat as Ambessa leaned closer, her hand coming up to cup your chin.

"You can deny it all you want," she murmured, her thumb brushing against your lower lip. "But I already know the truth." Behind her, Sevika shifted, her eyes narrowing as she watched the interaction. Her gaze flicked between you and Ambessa, her jaw tightening as though she was trying to figure out what to make of the situation.

Ambessa's lips curved into a knowing smile as she let go of your chin, her hand moving to rest on your shoulder instead. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," she said, her tone almost teasing now. "Desire is a natural thing."

You felt your cheeks heat up, unsure of how to respond. Ambessa's gaze was unrelenting, and the weight of both her and Sevika's attention made your head spin.

"Still," Ambessa continued, her voice taking on a more serious edge, "you should know where your loyalties lie." Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you nodded slowly. With the inability to tear your eyes away from her. The room was silent for a moment, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. Sevika finally stood, brushing herself off and crossing her arms over her chest as she stared down at the two of you.

Ambessa smirked, leaning back slightly but still keeping her hand on your shoulder. "Oh, I'm counting on it," she said, her tone dripping with confidence.

As the two women exchanged another charged look, you couldn't help but feel caught in the middle of something bigger than yourself. And yet, you didn't want to be anywhere else.

Ambessa stood there, towering over both you and Sevika, her sharp gaze locked on Sevika's defiant stance. The tension between them was thick, electric, but then something shifted in Ambessa's expression. A sly smirk curved her lips, and before anyone could react, she leaned in and pressed her lips against Sevika's.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was intense, fiery, and utterly captivating. Sevika's eyes widened in surprise at first, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she matched Ambessa's energy, their mouths moving against each other with such a desire that made your heart pound. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight. The sound of their labored breaths and the faint growls of dominance filled the room. They kissed as if they were trying to conquer one another, neither willing to back down. Sevika's hand shot up, gripping the back of Ambessa's neck, her fingers curling into her short hair. While Ambessa's large hands found Sevika's waist, pulling her closer.

Your cheeks flushed as you watched, your mind racing. It was undeniably hot. You clenched your fists in your lap, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your belly as you continued to observe the exchange.

Ambessa's teeth caught Sevika's lower lip, tugging it slightly before she pulled back just enough to smirk. "Is that all you've got?" she taunted, her voice husky and breathless.

"Not even close," Sevika growled, surging forward to capture her lips again, this time with even more hunger.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. The two women before you were locked in a battle of dominance, their bodies pressed so tightly together that it was hard to see where one ended and the other began. The red light from the room cast their silhouettes in an almost ethereal glow, accentuating the muscles in their arms and shoulders as they held each other.

You felt a pang of longing in your chest, wishing you could be part of that. Your eyes drifted to Sevika's lips. You imagined her pressing her lips against your neck. And then your gaze moved to Ambessa's hands, the thought of them holding you like that making your stomach flip.

You didn't realize you were pouting until Ambessa pulled back slightly from Sevika, her eyes flicking toward you. She chuckled lowly, her voice thick with amusement. "What's wrong, darling?" she teased, the pet name rolling off her tongue like silk.

You quickly looked away, embarrassed that she'd caught you. "Nothing," you muttered, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

"Nothing, hm?" Ambessa stepped closer, leaving Sevika standing there looking both frustrated and dazed. She reached out, her hand brushing lightly against your cheek before trailing down to rest against your back. "I don't think I believe you."

Sevika, still breathing heavily, smirked as she noticed your reaction. "Looks like someone wants in on the fun," she said, her tone teasing but her eyes were dark. Your heart skipped a beat as Ambessa's hand pressed more firmly against your back, guiding you to your feet. "Join us.” she commanded softly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated for only a moment before obeying, letting her lead you exactly where you wanted to be. Right inbetween the two of them. Her hand stayed firm against your back, her touch grounding yet electrifying.

"You've been watching like you want something," Ambessa murmured, her lips brushing against your ear as she spoke. "Well?"

"I..." You trailed off, unsure of how to put into words the mix of desire and anticipation swirling inside you.

"Shy now?" Sevika teased, stepping closer until her chest was nearly brushing against your back. She reached out, her calloused fingers tilting your chin up so you had to look at her. "Don't be."

The proximity of both women was overwhelming, their sheer size making you feel small and delicate in comparison. Ambessa's hands slid down to your hips, pulling you flush against her chest while Sevika's fingers trailed along your jawline.

"You're trembling," Ambessa noted with a smirk, her voice a low rumble against your back. "Are we making you nervous, darling?"

"I-i’m not nervous," you managed to say, though your voice betrayed you.

Ambessa chuckled, the sound vibrating through her chest and into your body. "Good," she said. "Because we're just getting started."

Before you could respond, Ambessa leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both commanding and intoxicating. Her hands tightened on your hips, holding you firmly against her as her lips moved against yours with expert precision.

You barely had time to process the kiss before Sevika's lips found the curve of your neck, her teeth grazing your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. The combination of their touches was almost too much to handle, and yet you craved more.

Ambessa pulled back slightly, her eyes dark with desire as she looked down at you. "Sevika," she said, her tone carrying a hint of command.

Sevika hummed in response, her lips still pressed against your neck.

"I think you want more," Ambessa said, a mischievous glint in her eye as she looked between you and Sevika.

Sevika smirked, her hand coming up to cup your cheek as she pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. "Then we shouldn't disappoint," she said, her voice low and full of promise.

As they both closed in on you, you couldn't help but feel excitement. Being caught between these two powerful women, their attention focused entirely on you, was a dream come true. And as their lips and hands began explored every inch of your body, you couldn’t resist.

THE NEXT PART

taglist. @blckbny @themostlesbianever @galaxydreamer468 @mpenguin7 @mvistl @dollstry @abitchnamedtia @ab2ysw1fe @lizzy222y @lexi2000 @sevslut @yer-boiiii @jayden-prentiss @humbledaylily556 @desnaa

[fluffylino]

angry sex with mean!dom minho

things get heated when the two of yall decide to have a petty argument.

-contains mature themes (minho is mean but its all consensual...sir kink?!?!?)

minho's pissed.

you're pissed.

the atmosphere in the apartment is beyond unimaginable. you came back from university, in a bad mood. sometimes people merely existing made you angry.

you couldn't explain it but you weren't in a great mood at all, and you weren't in the mood to try and make yourself calm down.

minho comes home, half an hour later. quietly entering and slamming the front door behind him.

not even bothering to keep his keys on the glass table with more care. walking right past you to the bedroom.

he has that look on his face when he joins you in the kitchen. drinking the water you had poured for him absentmindedly.

"wash the glass, will you" you mutter, sighing in exasperation. you knew this would only make things worse.

"what?" and his tone gets laced with irritation.

"i had a bad day, okay and i'm not in a good mood" you say to him. leaning back on the fridge.

"yeah? you think i'm not having a fucked up day too?" he spits back, crossing his arms, ready for battle.

"i never said that. stop being so bitchy"

"fix your attitude." minho warns. looking down at his feet before rolling his eyes at your behaviour.

"stop rolling your eyes at me" pointing a finger at him in annoyance.

"don't point a finger at me"

raising an eyebrow at you with a challenging look in his eyes.

"why don't you just go pick a fight with chan or seungmin"

you seethe out, not wanting to argue. if the two of you got more time to calm your nerves this wouldn't have happened.

"pick a fight? what the fuck"

he mutters under his breath. and it makes your eyes burn with tears. now he's mad at you.

"what fucking attitude do i have. i'm sick of dealing with people"

you raise your voice, exhaling heavily.

"and you think i'm not? i just had dance practice for nearly six hours and they told me i needed to do better"

minho says through gritted teeth. running his fingers through his messy hair.

"maybe you do need to do better" you snark back. wanting to get on his nerves just for the hell of it.

"watch what you say."

he warns for the second time and you take it as a challenge.

"or what? you're going to give me a lecture on how to..."

bringing your hands up to gesture quotation marks

"...fix my attitude?"

.

🐱

.

"not gonna fight back huh." your mouth opens to curse at him. and he uses it as the opportunity to pull you back.

ramming himself deeper into you.

"fucking brat"

minho grits out, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your sides. grip strong enough to have him holding you up singlehandedly if he wanted to.

"took it too far. i'm a bitch?" his voice shakes when your arms give in. falling face down into the sheets. back arched and ass up. the position makes things more sensitive.

"answer me."

you can't. teething at the pillow while you fisted at the soft bedsheets beside you. trying to ground yourself.

the feeling of his length pushing in and out of you with slow hard thrusts. torturing himself just to torture you.

"answer." eyes widening at the way he lays a sharp slap over your cunt. all while pulling out all the way.

"me."

sliding past your swollen walls with a filthy squelch. his force strong enough to have your whole body jerk forward. gasping in ecstasy.

you shake your head. or atleast try to, eyes rolling back at the strength he uses to meanly shove your thighs even further apart.

till you're practically presenting to him.

"open that smart ass mouth and use your fucking words." his tone dropping. theres a heartbeat of silence as he gives you a few seconds to answer him.

"ah- m-minnie"

moaning embarassingly loud when he slides his hand down the curve of your back. tugging a fistful of your hair, forcing you up on your arms. till you're on your fours.

"minnie? its sir to you. you don't deserve to even call me minho."

scalp burning with a mix of pain and pleasure.

your mind buzzing when he also gets on his fours. body pressing into yours from above.

"who's a bitch now"

minho says in your ear. brushing his lips against your earlobe. it sends a wave of heat straight to your cunt. throbbing uncontrollably around his dick.

the position has you thinking of how pathetic you are. cursing him out, only to be fucked like a dog from behind.

"are you my needy little bitch" hooking his chin on your shoulder. his arms on either side of yours.

thick thighs framing your smaller ones. you feel small under him. small and weak.

"y-yes sir" whispering softly. chest burning with humiliation. he clicks his tongue. not satisfied.

"speak up, mutt."

"yes sir...m'your needy bitch"

fucking the sentence out of you, in a way that has you breathless. arms trembling as you struggle to hold yourself up.

"taking it like you're in heat."

slowing his thrusts to roll his hips into yours. hitting that spongey spot that has you keening for him.

"next time you act like a fucking brat, don't expect me to be this kind"

he warns, subtly rubbing at the redness on your sides from how hard he was gripping your waist.

you nod vigorously. quietly mumbling apologies.

"is my needy puppy gonna take me all the way in her tight wet cunt hm"

.

.

.

"if i'm your bitch, you're my bitch" you whisper, lightly smacking him on the chest.

"i never said i wasn't a bitch" minho smirks, successfully teasing you.

"y'know i love you, right baby?" he mumbles, kissing your cheek lovingly.

"you're my cute little puppygirl or WAIT MY KITTY CAT!!!"

.

.

..

.

.

tada!

[koling2345]

Grumpy

fem!reader X Simon Riley

Summary: You're always grumpy in the morning, and Simon always 'fix' it.

Tw:Smut, unprotected sex.

A/n: First time posting here, just because this man doesn't leave my mind😭 This masked man😣 Sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language

.・��.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

By then Simon knew that you were far from being a morning person, on the contrary, you hated waking up early with all your soul.

But over time he learned to get used to you, waking you up with a session of kisses and hugs, pampering you until you improved your mood a little.

But nothing worked better than having his cock deep inside you, sliding in and out of your pussy, moving in a tantalizing way.

‘Fucking spoiled brat’.” Simon growls in your ear, his tattooed arm wrapped around you, balancing you as he fucks you from behind.

He wasn't angry with you, far from it, after all, how could he be angry when you moaned so sweetly for him? Your head buried in the pillow as you whimpered, calling his name again and again.

It was obvious that you couldn't form any coherent sentences given that he was pounding into you like crazy, but he knew you were loving it, since you were squeezing him almost painfully hard.

“You just need a cock to start the day, don't you?” He teased as he gave you a particularly sharp thrust, eliciting a loud whimper from you.

You were already a mess, you'd cum once while he was massaging your clit, now you were approaching the second time while he was fucking you hard.

He was all honeyed with your fluids, his cock base had a ring of liquids formed on it, all your sweet juices staining it.As if that wasn't enough, you also couldn't deny that the weight of him on top of you turned you on in a frightening way, just feeling his huge, muscular body covering yours, you felt your cunt clench around his dick.

By this point Simon had stopped trying to understand whatever strange language was coming out of your mouth, because you weren't making any sense.

The only coherent thing coming out of you were moans and whimpers, nothing else.Your mind only became an even bigger mess when Simon started kissing and nibbling your neck, one arm supporting you, while his free hand went down to your breasts and held on tight, squeezing and softening the flesh.

“Fucking nice tits.” He murmurs in a deep voice, making you dizzy with the sensation of his balls slapping against you.

“Si- si- I'm gonna-” you stuttered, rolling your eyes and tucking your head back into the pillow once more.

He grinned in response, knowing that you needed a little push to get there, just a little. So he did.

Simon came out of you in one swift movement, making you moan at the ache the emptiness brought you.

Which didn't last long.

The next thing you felt was his cock entering you all at once, barely giving you time to get used to his huge size and thickness. And fuck if he didn't love feeling the way your cunt stretched to accommodate him, how your walls tightened around him like a vice.

When he did it, it was over for you, you just came, just like that.

You squeezed him and gushed out your orgasm, making a mess of him once again.Simon didn't take long after that, he always waited for you to come first, and then he'd get frantic.It was no longer about getting you there, but about him reaching the peak of his pleasure.

Then he would slam into you in a sloppy, abrupt way, driving his hips into you with force.You could have sworn you were going to faint from how good it felt.

But the best feeling was yet to come.

“ Stay still. You'll take it, yeah? I don't want a drop out.” He hissed in your ear, holding your hips and preventing you from moving.

With one last hard thrust, he spurts his seed into you, grunting as he does so. Something that never failed to turn you on was the noises he made in bed, especially when he came like that.

His hot cum flooded into you and filled you up, and he didn't take his cock out of you until he was sure he had cum all the way inside you.

When you'd both recovered from the high, he lay down next to you and pulled you into a hug, pulling the covers over you both.

“Mood better?” He asked, running his hands through your hair.

“Mhm.” You mumble, hiding your face from him.

“Use words.” He retorts, lifting your chin, just to see the satisfied expression on your face.

“Yeah, a little.” You whisper.

He was satisfied, not that it bothered him, because he wouldn't have minded giving you a second round if necessary. Simon wasn't one to reject sex with you, so waking up every morning like this was nice.

And he'd be lying if he didn't say he was already daydreaming about the next morning.

He could certainly have you in a mating press the next morning.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

➤𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗔𝗿𝗲 𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗲 || 𝗛𝗮𝘆𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝗔𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗵𝘆 ||

A/n:Pure filth, I got nothin to say so enjoy 🫡

Tag List: @strawberrydeersimp

The war was over.

Snow was dead. Coin, too.

The Capitol lay in ruins, the rebels scattered in half-celebration, half-confusion. You stood in the remains of what had once been power—glass underfoot, the air heavy with smoke and blood and the weight of too many names.

Haymitch found you in a storage room beneath the rubble of what used to be a government building. No words. Just the creak of a door, the low thud of his boots, and that goddamn look in his eyes. Like something inside him had snapped years ago, and now whatever was left had finally shattered.

“You’re still alive,” he said. Not a question. Not even relief. Just fact, rough in his throat.

You nodded, barely breathing. You both knew what that meant.

He moved first. Fists in your jacket, yanking you forward, mouth crashing against yours like a threat. Teeth clashing, tongues fighting, nothing gentle. You responded in kind—biting his lower lip, digging your fingers into his shirt like you could rip the pain out of him.

He turned you, slammed you against the concrete wall, the sound echoing like a gunshot. His hands were all over—desperate, shaking, angry. Not at you. At the world. At himself.

“This doesn’t fix shit,” he growled into your neck, voice like gravel, hands already shoving your pants down. “But I need it. I need you.”

You didn’t answer—just grabbed his belt, unbuckling with fingers that trembled from adrenaline or want or both. His cock was hard already, hot against your thigh, and when he finally pushed into you, you gasped—more from the suddenness than the stretch.

There was no rhythm, no buildup. Just need.

He fucked you like he wanted to forget—fast, brutal, punishing. Your back scraped against the rough wall, and you welcomed the sting. His breath was ragged in your ear, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. You clawed at his back, left scratches, made him feel it.

“Say my name,” he hissed.

“Haymitch—”

“Louder.”

“Haymitch!” you cried, head falling back, voice echoing in the dead city.

He came with a choked-off moan, collapsing into you, both of you a tangled mess of sweat, blood, and ash. For a moment, neither of you moved. His forehead pressed against yours, the rise and fall of your chests the only sign of life in the silence.

Finally, he pulled back just enough to look at you. Eyes wild, haunted.

“This world’s fucked,” he muttered.

You cupped his face, rough and unkind. “So fuck it back.”

It was days later after your comment, the words still ringing in his ear.

“So fuck it back."

Haymitch didn’t say a word when he grabbed you again that night. The war was over, but the fire still burned in his veins. You followed him into another half-destroyed room in the Victor’s Village, the floor dusty, furniture broken. Didn’t matter. Nothing did except the way he looked at you like you were the last thing tethering him to this fucked-up world.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, voice rough as he shoved you back onto the mattress. “You don’t get what you do to me.”

His mouth was on you before you could speak—biting, devouring, like he wanted to consume every part of you. Clothes came off in frantic, angry motions. He manhandled you like you were his to take—and you were. Right now, you wanted to be.

He shoved his cock inside you with a growl, no teasing, no pause. Just raw, thick pressure and the slap of skin on skin.

“You think I can let you walk around like this,” he rasped in your ear, hips snapping forward with bruising force, “dripping from me and not do something about it?”

You gasped, back arching. He drove into you deeper, each thrust stealing the air from your lungs.

“I’m gonna put a baby in you,” he growled. “My baby. Gonna fill you up and make sure everyone knows who fucking owns you.”

“Do it,” you moaned, eyes glassy, body quaking. “Fill me. Make me yours.”

That broke something in him.

He snapped—fucking you harder, hips relentless, hands bruising your thighs as he spread you wider, deeper. Every thrust was possession. Every groan was a promise.

“Gonna knock you up right here, in the ashes of everything. Leave my cum leaking out of you for days. You want that?”

“Yes—fuck, yes, Haymitch—”

He pressed his forehead to yours, voice low and rough. “You’re gonna take it all. Every drop.”

And when he came—he poured into you. Hot, thick, endless. You could feel him pulse, spilling everything inside you as he kept thrusting, fucking it deeper, grinding through every wave. Like he needed to make sure it took.

You were wrecked. Used. Marked.

And he still didn’t pull out.

Instead, he stayed there, still hard, still inside. One hand on your belly.

“Maybe if I breed you full,” he murmured, voice quieter now, rawer, “you won’t disappear with the rest of the world.”

You pulled him down into a kiss, just as rough, just as broken.

“Then do it again.”

He never pulled out.

Even as you trembled beneath him, skin slick with sweat, your body pulsing with aftershocks, Haymitch stayed buried to the hilt. Still hard. Still hungry.

His breath ghosted against your throat. You could feel the low growl in his chest before he even spoke.

“Still not enough.”

You barely managed a sound—something between a whimper and a plea—but it didn’t matter. He rolled his hips slow and deep, and you arched helplessly beneath him.

“Gotta make sure it sticks, sweetheart,” he said, voice slurred with exhaustion and lust. “You want that, don’t you? Want me to fuck you round after round until I breed you right?”

You nodded, dazed, raw, wrecked. “Yes. Please. Again.”

That was all he needed.

He grabbed your hips, pulled out just far enough for you to feel the mess he’d left inside you—then slammed back in, dragging a cry from your throat. There was no mercy in him now. Just need. Just instinct.

He fucked you like he was running out of time. Like putting his seed in you was the only thing keeping him sane.

You could feel it pooling inside already, every thick, hot thrust forcing it deeper. He pinned your legs back, pushing your knees to your chest, getting deeper, deeper still. You cried out his name, over and over, mind unraveling with every round.

“Look at you,” he panted, sweat dripping onto your skin. “So full, so fucking open for me. You want to be bred. Made for it.”

His second orgasm hit harder—he bit your shoulder, hands gripping your thighs like anchors as he spilled another load inside you, grinding through it, hips twitching, not stopping.

Not done.

Not even close.

He shifted you to your side, wrapping a leg over his hip, still hard inside. He fucked you slow this time—but it was worse. Deeper. Possessive. So fucking intimate you almost sobbed.

“You feel that?” he whispered against your ear, his voice like smoke and whiskey and ash. “That’s two loads. And you’re still clenching. Greedy little thing.”

You whimpered, overstimulated, fucked-out. “Haymitch—can’t—”

“Yes you can.” He pressed a hand to your belly. “Still room in there. Gonna keep going until you’re leaking down your thighs for days.”

Round three came slower. More drawn out. He kissed you through it, hands all over you, possessive and tender in the most fucked-up way. When he came again, he didn’t thrust—just pushed in deep, groaning like it hurt.

You could barely move. Could barely think. Your thighs were shaking, slick and soaked, your cunt stuffed full and twitching around him.

And still… he didn’t stop.

“Think you can give me one more?” he whispered, nipping your ear. “Just one more, baby. One more and I’ll plug you up, keep it in.”

You nodded, delirious. “Yes… fill me again…”

He chuckled darkly, and started to move.

You’d lost count of how many times he’d finished inside you.

Your body was wrecked—slick, shaking, sensitive beyond reason. Every inch of your skin buzzed, raw and tender from his hands, his mouth, his claim.

And still, Haymitch wasn’t done.

He had you straddling his lap now, thighs trembling, knees braced on either side of his hips. He sat back against the ruined headboard, sweat-soaked hair pushed off his face, his eyes locked on where you were slowly sinking back down onto him.

“You hear that?” he rasped, hands gripping your ass. “That’s you—sloshing with my cum. And you’re still taking me. Still opening up like a good little breeding whore.”

You whimpered, the filth of his voice flooding through you just as deep as his cock.

He was so thick, and you were so full. His previous loads were leaking out around his length, making a wet, obscene mess between your thighs—and he loved it. Every inch that slipped back inside sent another rush of heat spiraling through your core.

He bounced you once—hard—and you cried out, fingernails digging into his shoulders.

“Nuh-uh. No running,” he growled. “You asked for this. Said you wanted to be plugged full. So here—”

He shifted, slamming you down hard and holding you there. Buried deep. His cock twitching inside your ruined cunt.

“Now sit. Just like that,” he murmured darkly, one hand pressing down on your belly, the other wrapped tight around your throat. “Feel that? That’s all of me. All my cum. Sitting right where it belongs.”

You choked out a moan, so full you could barely breathe. Your belly was taut with pressure, your walls fluttering helplessly around him. It was too much, and not enough.

“Don’t even think about leaking, sweetheart,” he warned, thrusting up into you once, deep and brutal. “I’ll fuck it right back in. Again and again.”

“Haymitch—” your voice broke, eyes fluttering shut.

“No,” he growled. “Eyes on me. Want you to know who did this to you. Want you to remember what it feels like to be bred like you’re mine.”

He held you still, cock twitching inside you, hand firm on your lower belly like he was claiming it. Like he could will it into taking.

And then—he started to move again.

Not frantic. Not even rough this time. Possessive. Slow, deep thrusts while he kept you locked in place, each one designed to push everything back inside.

“You’re not leaking a single drop,” he whispered against your lips. “I’ll keep fucking you until your body gives in. Until it takes.”

You moaned, grinding against him, your own body betraying you with need, pulsing around him as another orgasm built—sharp and hot and aching.

“That’s it,” he hissed. “Come on my cock while I fill you again. Let me breed you so full your body has no choice.”

You shattered with a scream, and he followed—burying himself to the hilt, grinding through every pulse of his orgasm, spilling inside you for what felt like forever.

You collapsed against him, twitching, unable to move, his arms holding you tight as you dripped and leaked around him.

But still, he stayed inside.

Still plugging you full.

Because Haymitch Abernathy doesn’t just fuck.

He claims.

The light filtering in through the cracked window was soft and gray, the kind of morning that doesn’t feel real—too quiet, too still, like the world is holding its breath.

You woke up in Haymitch’s bed, your body aching in the most exquisite way. Every inch of you was sore, marked, used. Your thighs were sticky, your cunt still messy with the remnants of the night before. Three… no, four times he’d filled you. Maybe more. You couldn’t remember where one orgasm ended and the next began.

You shifted slightly, wincing at the dull, sweet ache between your legs.

“Don’t move.”

His voice came from behind you—low, rasped, rough from sleep and sex and cigarettes. A heavy arm looped around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. You could feel his cock already hard again, nudging the curve of your ass.

“You’re leaking,” he murmured against your neck, his hand sliding down your stomach, fingers brushing the inside of your thigh. He found the mess there, his own cum seeping out of you slow and warm. He brought his fingers up to your lips, smearing it there, watching you with hooded eyes.

“Still fucking full,” he growled, like it was the most sacred thing he’d ever seen. “But not full enough.”

You whimpered, lips parting as he slipped those fingers into your mouth. You sucked instinctively, tasting salt and sweat and the raw filth of the night before.

“Good girl,” he breathed. “You like this, don’t you? Being ruined. Waking up stuffed with me.”

You nodded, unable to speak with his fingers in your mouth, your cunt clenching around nothing, aching for him again already.

“You think I’m gonna let you walk around today dripping with my cum?” he said, dragging your leg over his hip, grinding into your ass. “You think I’m gonna let a single drop go to waste?”

His voice darkened.

“No. Not happening. Gonna fuck it back in until it takes. Until you’re knocked up and glowing with it. Until this whole goddamn world sees what I did to you.”

He pushed into you from behind in one smooth stroke—your body slick, stretched, and ready, even as you gasped from the sudden stretch. He groaned deep in his chest, burying himself inside like he belonged there. And he did.

“Still so tight,” he hissed. “Still fucking mine.”

His pace was slower now—but deeper, possessive. Each thrust a silent brand. His hand moved back to your belly, pressing down to feel himself through your skin, groaning at how swollen you already were from him.

“You feel that?” he whispered. “That’s all me. You’re full of me, inside and out. And I’m not stopping until your body gives me what I want.”

You moaned, helpless against the slow, brutal rhythm. There was no escaping him. You didn’t want to.

“Better get used to waking up like this,” he murmured, mouth hot on your shoulder. “Fucked full. Plugged up. Marked.”

And with that, he thrust harder—deeper—claiming you all over again as the morning light washed over both of you.

Because Haymitch wasn’t just breeding you.

He was keeping you.

"I love you." Haymitch whispered into your neck as he held you close.

"I love you too."

Because after the end of the day, know matter where or how.

He love's you, Haymitch loves you more than anything.

You are his, you are his everything and Haymitch Abernathy was yours.

[harmeu]

ARGUMENTS 

(HSR X READER) (ANGST)

(Amphoreus Men)

(GN!READER)

MYDEI: (His devotion to his fight which results in neglect.)

You couldn’t remember the last time you and your beloved spouse had talked to each other. It was as if Mydei’s mind was constantly on things that neglected you heavily. Even a simple “How are you today”  would’ve been enough at this point. It hurt a lot. As if millions of daggers pierced you everytime Mydei walked past without saying anything. You were his lover for God’s sake.

Mydei was in the training room punching dummies with ease, letting them break into shards as they thumped onto the ground, his knuckles bleeding heavily from the constant fight.

You stepped in peeking through the small opening of the door with your wide gaze contemplating to yourself if you should walk in and say something or not. 

Eventual acceptance of the option ‘yes’ overthrew your mind so you walked in and Mydei’s keen senses picked up on it immediately.

“What is it.” His gruff reply made it sound like he was annoyed. (Which he probably was.) 

“You’ve been busy lately.” You mumbled out moving from one foot to another a bit nervous to how he was going to reply.

“Of course I am. You know my duties.” Mydei went back to smashing his fists against the solid wooden dummies as you winced at the sight and decided to walk up, up to him.

“I miss you.” You murmured out making Mydei freeze slightly and you could’ve sworn he softened. But as fast as it came it vanished. Mydei was back to his tense state. 

“You should know everything I deal with in a singular day.”

“But I’m your lover!” You exclaimed out flinching at your own tone of voice and words making Mydei turn looking at you in your eye for the first time. 

“That doesn’t matter.” He huffed out. Okay wow. Now it was your turn to be cruel.

“No wonder everyone finds you difficult.” You spat back leaving the door slamming heavily making the walls vibrate as Mydei stared dumbfounded at the shut door clenching his fists.

PHANION: (Accusations that result in anger.)

Phanion was a gentle soul with you. The perfect boyfriend in your eyes. Though as days passed you had a weird gut feeling. As if he was talking to someone other than you. Not possible. Right. The constant ‘they’re just a friend’ sounded like a lie. But you didn’t have any proof. Not yet at least.

Phanion was sitting on your local bench quietly reading as you walked up to him with a half lidded gaze of suspicion. Feeling your hard gaze Phanion sighed, shutting his book and standing up to match your height.

“Don’t give me that look.” Phanion murmured frowning with a pained expression on his face making you feel a hint of guilt. 

“It’s just that you’re constantly not letting me meet your friends at all. As if you’re hiding something from me.” Your fists clenched, eyeing up at Phanion as he narrowed his own gaze at your words.

“I do not let you meet them in order for them to not do anything to you darling.” Lies. You repeated in your head. You were being unreasonable. You knew that. But your gut feeling never failed you. 

“I don’t believe you.” You said spitefully making Phanion droop in hurt as you frowned at his reaction. You were expecting anger.

“Why don’t you trust me?” Phanion said holding your hand. He really had to pull that card out didn’t he.

“I do..I just.” As if knowing you were in the wrong, the only option left in your mind was to get out of the scene immediately. You let go of Phanions hand shakily leaving Phanion standing next to the bench alone as he stared at your slowly disappearing figure with a pained look.

ANAXA: (His anger towards the Gods.)

You knew your spouse's hatred towards the Gods. It never bothered you really because the people of Amphoreus worshipped titans rather than the Aeons above. Though Anaxa seemed to be solely focused on that singular emotion of hatred removing everything else in his life. Including you.

You were sitting in bed with Anaxa as he fixed up his eyepatch with his usual elegance as he eyed the several books in front of him that talked about the several elements the Gods gave down to the mortals.

“Anaxa.” You mumbled out tilting your head as Anaxa hummed out a reply as you frowned. “Why are you so focused on this subject?” 

Anaxa sighed at your words as if he was contemplating you speaking out on this matter and turned his gaze towards you. 

“You don’t know what these Aeons have done to our people. They’re vultures.” Anaxa spat out with seeming elegance despite his harsh words. 

“I feel like you’re forgetting about everything to focus on this.” You said a hushed whisper as Anaxa narrowed his gaze.

“That’s utter lies darling. I have enough mindspace to deal with everything.” You stared at him blankly. You doubted it at this point honestly.

“I feel like you’re lying.” Silence dawned between the two of you at your words as if rendering Anaxa speechless from your statement. Which added onto your doubt from his quietness. 

Silently Anaxa grabbed his things and left. 

Did he just storm off?

I post in like once a century oopsie (Since I don't know anything about the characters personalities I went off looks and the trailers)

[mcrdvcks]

Could I request a one shot of Old Man Logan? Something with fluff and angst like a huge argument between him and his other half and Laura works to get them to make up after days of not talking

things i wish you said

chapter summary: You and Logan get into a fight and Laura tries to get the two of you to see the errors in your ways.

word count: 2.8k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: thank y'all for sending in requests! i've been working on the last chapter of i love you, in every time but i ran into a bit of writer's block so the requests really helped <3

anyways, i hope this was what you wanted anon!

warnings/tags: au of 'logan (2017)' aka logan doesn't die at the end, arguments, angst, laura being smarter than reader and logan, really this is just laura being a smartass, fluff

"I can’t believe you!” You set the dish towel angrily down on the counter, glaring at Logan. “You are the most stubborn man I have ever met.”

Logan leaned back against the doorframe, arms crossed, his expression hard. “Yeah? Well, someone’s gotta be stubborn, considering you’re trying to fix a situation that ain’t broken.”

“It is broken, Logan!” you snapped, pointing a finger at him. “You just refuse to see it because that’s what you do! Shut everything out, pretend like nothing’s wrong until it all blows up in your face.”

His jaw clenched, and he shook his head. “What’s wrong is you makin’ a mountain out of a molehill. I said I’ll handle it.”

“You handling it usually means disappearing for a week and coming back bloodied and brooding!” You threw your hands up, exasperated. “God forbid you actually let someone help you for once.”

“I don’t need your help!” he barked, his voice rising. “I’ve been doin’ just fine on my own for years.”

“And look where that’s gotten you!” The words came out sharper than you intended, but the frustration boiling in your chest wouldn’t let you stop. “You’re not on your own anymore, Logan. When are you gonna get that through your thick skull?”

Logan’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, he said nothing. Then, his voice dropped to a dangerous low. “You don’t think I know that? I didn’t ask for any of this, but here we are. I’m doin’ the best I can, and it ain’t enough for you, is it?”

“That’s not what I said!” You took a step toward him, shaking your head in disbelief. “But you don’t even try to meet me halfway. You just... shut down and push me out the second it gets hard.”

“Maybe I’m tryin’ to protect you,” he shot back, his words laced with frustration.

“From what? From you?” Your voice cracked, the argument chipping away at the walls you’d built to keep your own emotions in check. “I’m not scared of you, Logan. What scares me is losing you because you’re too damn stubborn to let anyone in.”

Logan’s mouth opened as if to retort, but no words came. He stood there, breathing hard, the weight of your words hanging heavy between you. Without another word, he turned and stalked out of the room, the screen door slamming behind him.

You stood there, staring at the door, your heart pounding. Part of you wanted to go after him, to yell more, to make him understand. But another part of you was too tired—too hurt.

The house was quiet now, save for the faint creak of the floorboards as Laura walked in from the hallway. She didn’t say anything right away, just hovered in the doorway, her arms crossed in that way that made her look far older than her twelve years.

“You two are so loud,” she finally said, her tone flat but edged with something that sounded suspiciously like annoyance.

You groaned, dropping your hands and looking over at her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. We didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” Laura replied, stepping further into the kitchen. She pulled out a chair and sat across from you, her sharp gaze studying your face. “You’re crying.”

You swiped at your cheek quickly, though you weren’t sure why. Laura didn’t miss much. “It’s nothing, kiddo.”

“It didn’t sound like nothing,” she said, her tone even. She leaned her elbows on the table, her small hands clasped together. “You and Logan fight all the time now.”

“That’s not true,” you replied automatically, though the words felt hollow as soon as you said them.

Laura just stared at you, unblinking. “It is.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Sometimes grown-ups argue. That’s just how it is.”

“Yeah, but you’re mad at him all the time. And he’s mad at himself. It’s annoying.” Her bluntness cut through you, and she tilted her head. “Are you going to leave?”

“What? No.” The question startled you, and you leaned forward. “No, Laura. I’m not going anywhere. I love Logan. I just... wish he’d stop shutting me out.”

Laura didn’t say anything for a while. She just stared at you, her gaze as sharp as ever, like she was picking apart everything you’d just said.

Finally, she shrugged. “Then tell him.”

You blinked. “I have told him.”

“No, you yelled at him.” Her voice was flat, matter-of-fact, and it made you feel about two inches tall. “That’s not the same.”

You sighed, running a hand over your face. “It’s complicated, kid.”

Laura tilted her head. “No, it’s not. You’re mad. He’s mad. You both stop talking. Then you stay mad.”

You stared at her, caught off guard by how simple she made it sound. “It’s not that easy.”

Laura didn’t respond to that, just gave you a look—one of those looks that made you realize this twelve-year-old could probably win a staring contest with the Grim Reaper. She stood up without another word and walked back toward the hallway, leaving you sitting there with a mix of frustration, guilt, and... something else you couldn’t quite name.

---

The next few days were... quiet. Too quiet. Logan didn’t come around much, and when he did, it was brief—mostly to grab a beer or say a gruff goodnight. You didn’t push him, not yet, but the silence between you was its own kind of argument.

You also knew that he wasn’t sleeping in bed with you. You could tell because you’d wake up early for work, only to find Logan sprawled out on the couch, his legs dangling off the armrest. You would’ve woken him up—told him to go to bed while you left—but you stopped yourself every time. The anger hadn’t completely faded, but it had started to feel hollow, replaced by something heavier.

This morning was no different. You paused in the living room doorway, coffee in hand, watching him. He was fast asleep, one arm thrown over his face, the other hanging off the edge of the couch. You sighed quietly to yourself.

“Just go to bed, idiot,” you muttered under your breath, knowing he wouldn’t hear it.

---

Laura stood in the doorway of the garage, watching Logan fiddle with the same part of the truck he’d been pretending to fix for the past twenty minutes. She didn’t say anything at first—just stood there, arms crossed, her quiet presence heavy enough that Logan eventually sighed.

“You gonna say somethin’ or just stand there starin’?” he muttered without looking up, his voice rough.

Laura shrugged. “You’re not fixing anything.”

Logan’s hands paused for half a second before he went back to the wrench, a little harder this time. “Truck needs work.”

“It doesn’t,” Laura said bluntly. “You’re hiding.”

Logan froze again, jaw tightening. “Ain’t hidin’.”

“You are,” she insisted. Laura took a step closer, eyeing him like he was some kind of experiment she was studying. “You and Y/N are mad. It’s annoying.”

Logan finally looked up at her, scowling. “What’s annoying is you stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong.”

Laura didn’t flinch. She just stared at him, unfazed as ever. “If you don’t talk to her, she’s going to leave.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, and his grip on the wrench tightened. “She’s not gonna leave.”

Laura raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Logan stared at her, expression unreadable, but he didn’t answer. He looked back at the truck instead, as if the bolts and metal could give him something to focus on. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, kid.”

Laura stepped closer, crossing her arms tighter over her chest. “I know you. And I know her. She cries when you’re not looking.”

Logan stilled, his shoulders tensing, but he didn’t look at her. He didn’t want to hear it—didn’t want to think about it.

Laura didn’t stop. “You think shutting her out makes her safer, but it doesn’t. It just makes her sad.”

“Laura,” Logan said sharply, his voice low.

She ignored the warning in his tone. “You don’t want her to leave, but you’re acting like you do.”

That hit something, and Logan finally set the wrench down, exhaling harshly. “You don’t get it.”

“I do.” Laura’s voice was calm, but there was something pointed beneath it. “You’re scared. You don’t want to need her.”

Logan looked at her, his scowl deeper now, though it lacked its usual bite. “Yeah? Where’d you get all that from?”

Laura shrugged. “I watch you. I listen. You’re both loud.”

Logan shook his head and ran a hand over his face, grumbling under his breath. “You’re a real pain, you know that?”

She just tilted her head. “You’re worse.”

Logan let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Great. So now I’m gettin’ life advice from a twelve-year-old.”

Laura shrugged again and turned to leave. “If you don’t talk to her, I will.”

That got his attention. “Hey—”

But she was already walking out of the garage, not bothering to look back. “You’re welcome,” she called flatly.

Logan swore under his breath, watching her disappear. He sat there for a moment, hands resting on his knees, staring at the half-fixed truck. He hated that kid sometimes—hated how she could cut right through him like that.

And worse, she was right.

---

You came back from work late, opting to eat out instead of at home to avoid any awkward interactions. By the time you walked through the door, the house was dark except for the faint glow of the kitchen light. You set your bag down quietly, not wanting to risk waking anyone up.

But as you turned toward the living room, you noticed Logan sitting on the couch, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the coffee table. He wasn’t looking at you—his gaze was fixed on the floor, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely together.

You hesitated, debating whether to say anything or just go straight to bed. Before you could decide, his gravelly voice cut through the silence.

“You didn’t come home last night.”

You froze, then blinked. “What?”

He finally looked up at you, his expression unreadable. “Laura told me. Said she noticed. I didn’t.”

You frowned, your heart sinking a little. “Logan, I—”

“I should’ve noticed,” he interrupted, his voice low, almost too quiet. He leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face. “That’s on me.”

You crossed your arms, unsure what to say. “I didn’t stay out because of you.”

“Yeah, you did,” he replied bluntly, cutting you off again. “You’re avoiding me. I get it.”

The way he said it—so matter-of-fact, like he was resigned to it—made something twist in your chest. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I’m not avoiding you. I just needed... space.”

Logan scoffed, his lips curling into a humorless smirk. “Space. Right. Because I’m such a walk in the park to be around.”

“Logan—”

“I get it,” he repeated, louder this time, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You don’t have to explain it. I know what I’m like. Hell, Laura reminds me every day.”

You shook your head, stepping closer. “This isn’t about Laura. It’s not even about you being... difficult. It’s about you not letting me in.”

He stiffened at that, his jaw clenching. “I’m tryin’.”

“Are you?” Your voice softened, but the hurt was still there. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you’re just waiting for me to give up.”

His eyes flicked to yours, and for a second, you thought he might argue. But then he sighed, slumping back against the couch. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice rough, almost bitter. “I don’t know how to let someone in without... screwin’ it all up.”

You stared at him, the anger you’d been holding onto slipping away, replaced by something softer. “You don’t have to have all the answers, Logan. I don’t expect you to be perfect. I just need you to try.”

“I am trying,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “It just... doesn’t feel like it’s enough.”

“It is,” you said firmly, stepping closer until you were standing in front of him. “But you can’t keep shutting me out every time things get hard. That’s not how this works.”

He looked up at you, his expression guarded but vulnerable in a way you rarely saw. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, just studied your face like he was trying to decide whether to believe you.

Finally, he let out a long breath and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees again. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” you said softly, your voice steady. “But you have to let me stay.”

Logan nodded slowly, like he was finally starting to understand. “Alright,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “I’ll... figure it out.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” you said, offering a small, tentative smile.

He didn’t smile back, but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. He leaned back against the couch, his eyes meeting yours. “You eaten?”

You blinked at the sudden change in topic. “What?”

“You look tired,” he said gruffly. “Bet you skipped dinner.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “I grabbed something on the way home.”

"Good," he muttered again, leaning back against the couch with a long exhale. His hand moved to the bottle of whiskey, but instead of picking it up, his fingers drummed against the glass absently.

You hesitated, then walked over to the couch, standing just in front of him. “Logan.”

He looked up at you, his brow furrowing slightly, waiting for you to say whatever was on your mind.

Instead, you sat down beside him, close enough that your knees touched. For a second, neither of you said anything. Then Logan let out another heavy sigh, reached over, and pulled you into his lap with a quiet grunt.

“Logan—”

“Just sit,” he said, his tone softer than usual, though still carrying that gruff edge. One of his hands rested lightly on your hip, the other settled on your thigh. His forehead dropped against your shoulder, and you could feel the tension in him start to ease as he let himself rest against you.

Your hands moved up instinctively, one settling on his arm, the other gently threading through his hair. He didn’t say anything at first, just breathed deeply, the weight of the past few days pressing down on both of you.

“You should come to bed tonight,” you murmured after a while, your voice quiet but steady.

Logan didn’t move, but you felt the way his body tensed under you. “I’m fine out here.”

“You’re not,” you said simply, your fingers brushing through his hair again. “You look miserable on this couch.”

He huffed a quiet laugh against your shoulder. “I’ll survive.”

“That’s not the point,” you pressed. “I want you in bed. With me. Where you belong.”

Logan lifted his head then, his eyes meeting yours. His expression was guarded, but there was something softer there too, like he was considering your words. “You sure you want me there?”

“Of course I’m sure,” you said, your hand moving to cup his jaw. “I always want you there, Logan. Even when I’m mad at you. Especially when I’m mad at you.”

That earned a faint smirk from him, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Didn’t think I was much for sharing a bed with someone.”

“Well, you’re not great at it,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. “You steal the blankets, and you snore.”

“Don’t snore,” he muttered, his lips twitching slightly.

“You absolutely snore,” you shot back, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t care. I just want you there.”

Logan studied you for a moment, his hand tightening slightly on your hip. Finally, he gave a small nod. “Alright.”

You smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. “Good.”

For a few minutes, you stayed like that, the silence between you no longer heavy but comfortable. Logan’s head rested against your chest, and you could feel the tension slowly draining out of him as your fingers moved lazily through his hair.

“Y’know,” he muttered after a while, his voice low, “Laura’s a pain in the ass sometimes.”

You chuckled softly. “She’s just looking out for you. For us.”

Logan grunted, his arm tightening around you slightly. “Kid’s too damn smart for her own good.”

“She gets that from you,” you said, smiling.

That earned another faint smirk, though he didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a quiet sigh, his eyes closing as he rested against you. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

“Good,” you said softly, your hand continuing to stroke his hair.

For the first time in days, the tension between you felt like it was beginning to mend.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Not Ready

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

POV: First-person (Paige)

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Summary: Paige always thought love was supposed to be enough.

Word Count: 1.3k+

I never thought goodbye could taste so bitter, like the remnants of a goodbye kiss that never landed, hanging in the air between us. The room is dim, lit only by the warm glow of the bedside lamp, casting long, aching shadows across the walls. I stand by the door, my duffel bag slung over my shoulder, my fingers gripping the strap like it’s the only thing keeping me steady.

I’m leaving.

She sits on the edge of the bed, her hands clenched into fists on her lap, nails digging into her skin like she’s trying to keep herself from breaking. I know she’s trying not to cry. And I hate that I’m the reason she has to.

I exhale sharply, bracing myself for the final blow. “We both don’t want to do this, I know. But you have to understand that we need this.”

She shakes her head, biting the inside of her cheek so hard I worry she might draw blood. “That’s not true,” she whispers, voice raw, fragile. “We don’t need this. You think we do, but—” She stops herself, swallows back a sob, and shakes her head again. “I don’t.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and for a second, I almost falter. Almost let the weight of them knock me off my feet. But I can’t. I have to stand my ground, even if it hurts.

“You think I want this?” My voice is thick with emotion, barely holding steady. “That this isn’t killing me, too?”

“Then don’t go.” Her voice cracks, splintering between us like the fracture in my chest. “Stay.”

My breath stutters, but only for a second. Then I shake my head. “You know I can’t.”

She lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand over her face. “Why? Because we fight? Because we don’t always get it right? That’s what love is, Paige! It’s messy and it’s complicated, but you don’t just walk away from it because it gets hard.”

I close my eyes, my jaw tightening. “It’s not just about the fighting,” I murmur. “It’s about us losing ourselves in it. We’ve stopped being good for each other, and I love you too much to let us destroy what we have left.”

She shakes her head and stands up abruptly, stepping closer, desperate to close the gap I keep forcing between us. “That’s not fair,” she says, voice trembling. “You don’t get to decide for both of us that we’re done.”

I open my eyes, finally meeting hers—really meeting them. And it wrecks me. Because I see the hope still lingering there, the hope that I’ll take it all back, that I’ll tell her I’m wrong and that we can fix this.

But I can’t.

“I’m doing this for us,” I say, and I hate the way it sounds like a lie, even though it isn’t.

“For us?” Her voice rises, and I can see her chest rising and falling faster, her heart slamming against her ribs. “How is breaking both our hearts for us?”

I look away, gripping the strap of my bag even tighter. “Because if we don’t do this now, we’ll only end up resenting each other.”

She shakes her head violently, stepping forward until she’s close enough to touch me—but she doesn’t. Her hands tremble at her sides. “Paige,” she whispers, voice breaking. “I’m not ready to lose both a lover and a friend in one night.”

My breath catches, and for a second, I feel everything—every crack in my resolve, every unspoken word sitting heavy in my chest. But I can’t give in to it. I have to walk away before we ruin this even more.

So I lift a hand, letting my fingers barely brush her cheek before I pull away, afraid that if I linger, I won’t be able to go through with it. “You will be,” I whisper, my voice shattering against the silence. “You just don’t know it yet.”

She lets out a shaky breath, her eyes searching mine like she’s looking for something to hold onto. But I have nothing left to give.

I turn toward the door, reaching for the handle.

And then, just like that, I’m gone.

The silence that follows is unbearable. I know she’s still standing there, probably staring at the door like she’s waiting for me to come back. But I don’t. I can’t.

I tell myself this is the right thing, that one day she’ll understand.

But as I step into the night, the cold air biting at my skin, I know I’m wrong.

Because how do you ever prepare for losing the person you love most?

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[luvfae]

part 2 to stay close.. maybe reader gets hurt during a game or by a player or something and thanos like.. freaks out

STAY CLOSE, PT 2

parings: thanos/choi su bong x f!reader

warnings: violence, blood, swearing

part one

The overhead lights flickered once. Twice. Then—

Darkness.

A low murmur spread across the dormitory, bodies shifting, tension thick enough to choke on.

Lights out.

You swallowed hard, your fingers gripping the edge of your thin blanket as you pressed your back against the cold metal of your bunk. Thanos sat beside you, his body tense, eyes fixed on the shadows moving beyond your shared space.

“Stay close to me,” he murmured, his voice low but firm.

“I know.”

His hand brushed against yours—warm, grounding. You clung to the comfort of his touch, but the unease never left. Because you knew what happened in the dark.

No cameras. No rules. No consequences.

And then it began.

A scream ripped through the silence.

The sound sent a sharp jolt through you, and before you could process it, the dorm erupted into chaos. Fists meeting flesh. The sickening crunch of bone. Blood splattering against the cold concrete floor.

Thanos’ grip on you tightened. “Move,” he ordered, guiding you off the bunk, shielding you with his own body.

But it happened too fast.

One second, you were following him through the chaos, and the next—

A hand wrapped around your wrist.

Hard. Furious.

You barely had time to react before you were yanked backward, ripped away from Thanos’ grasp. Your body slammed against something solid, knocking the air from your lungs.

Panic.

You struggled, thrashing against the grip, but the man holding you was stronger—his fingers digging into your arm like a vice.

“You little bitch,” he hissed into your ear.

Then came the first punch.

Pain exploded across your cheek, white-hot and blinding. Your head snapped to the side, your vision swimming.

The second hit landed against your ribs, a sharp, bruising impact that sent you crumbling to your knees.

Where’s Thanos?

You gasped, struggling to crawl away, but a shoe slammed into your stomach, knocking you flat on your back.

“Thought you could survive this shit just ‘cause you’ve got that pretty boy guarding you?” the man sneered. “Let’s see how tough you are without him.”

You braced for the next blow—

But it never came.

The next thing you heard was a deafening snarl, like an animal let loose. Then came the sickening thud of flesh meeting flesh.

A pained grunt. A crash.

Then—

His voice.

“You stupid, dead motherfucker.”

You blinked through the pain, your vision struggling to focus—

Thanos.

He was on top of your attacker, fists relentless, raining down like a storm, each hit more vicious than the last.

The man gasped, struggling beneath him, but Thanos was beyond gone. His face was twisted in pure, unfiltered rage, his knuckles coated in red.

“You touch her again—” Another brutal hit. “—I’ll rip you apart with my bare hands.”

The man coughed, spitting blood, but Thanos wasn’t done. He grabbed the fucker by his collar and slammed him against the wall so hard it made a sickening crack.

“She’s mine,” Thanos growled, his voice ice-cold, lethal. “Mine to protect. Mine to kill for. And I swear to god—” He slammed the guy’s head back again. “—I will gut you like a fucking pig if you so much as breathe in her direction.”

The man groaned weakly, barely conscious, his body slumping.

But Thanos was still seeing red.

You struggled to push yourself up, but pain flared through your ribs, making you whimper. That sound—

The moment Thanos heard you whimper, his head snapped to you.

And suddenly, the anger disappeared.

The violence drained from his face, replaced with something far worse.

Panic.

“Señorita.”

In an instant, he was by your side, hands cupping your face, frantically scanning you for injuries. His breathing was ragged, his fingers trembling.

“Baby, talk to me.” His voice cracked.

You tried to smile, but your lip split open, fresh blood trickling down.

His face twisted in anguish.

“I’m okay,” you murmured, reaching up to touch his cheek. “Just… a little bruised.”

Thanos clenched his jaw, his grip tightening. “I should’ve never fucking come here.” His voice was thick, laced with guilt.

“It’s not your fault.”

“That’s not the fucking point.”

You exhaled softly. “Then what is?”

His throat bobbed. His eyes burned with something raw, something he had never said out loud before.

But then—

The lights flicked on.

The chaos dulled, the fighting stopped, and the guards stormed in.

Thanos didn’t move. He didn’t care.

All that mattered was you, and the bruises on your skin that shouldn’t have been there.

He touched your cheek carefully, brushing away a speck of dried blood, his jaw tightening.

And for the first time in his life—

Thanos was afraid.

Because he realized something in that moment.

He could lose you.

And that?

That would destroy him.

[trashmouth-richie]

I feel like I’m really bad at prompts so I’m just gonna go with my “do’s” from costar today…

Stomping. Instant coffee. Cold* shower.

*“Cold” autocorrected to “come” and I almost didn’t fix it, soooo…do with that what you will.

OH MY LOVE.

hoping my slutty choices for this prompt find you well.

18+, no minors, acts of sex, yay.

**peep my little hints at 90s tv and movies—there are 4 🖤

<1k

send me a prompt from this post ! (writers block is killing me !)

Cold beads of water trickle like ice down your body. Making your already pert nipples stand at attention and harden in an instant. 

Cursing the boy you’ve been best friends with since diapers, you turn the faucet off in a quickened haste— exiting the tub in an anything but graceful fashion, stubbing your toes on the way out. 

“Eddie!” your shrill voice is clouded by the throbbing in your foot and the chatter in your teeth. “Did you pay the water bill?”  

One job, the menace had one job— one duty for the small shared apartment, and it was to pay the water bill each month. 

Wrapping yourself in a threadbare towel that had once been a swim towel for an uppity family— you stomp down to his bedroom, kicking open the door with enough rage to channel Jackie Chan.

You should have knocked. Fuck, why didn’t you knock? 

Eddie was naked.

Pale-moon colored ass on display. 

Thigh muscles rippled beneath dark patchwork tattoos, arms that never looked muscly suddenly flexed tight. A veiny hand wrapped tight around a black haired pony tail. Hips, his hips were— fucking, thrusting, pounding. 

His mouth was slack, slick like an oil painting, head back and eyes rolled to squinted ivory surrounded with a colossal woodland of thick lashes.

Sweat coated his brow, dribbling down until it collected on his cupids bow, a salty pooled tease. His rougey lips were spit coated, sheer— glossy— begging for your tongue to taste them. 

Your heart thumped loudly, heat in your core on its own tempo, hot and deep. 

And then you hear it. 

A whimper. Softer than silk, low, whiny, almost sweetly pathetic in its delivery from a deep space in his throat. 

Your cheeks warm, cunt heated like a fire, sirens going off for extreme temperatures. 

Oh—fuck.

His eyes meet yours and you hold his gaze for a second. The clouded look of a man being sucked dry took over his normal instant coffee colored irises. Glaucoma esque beauty in the dark swirls, and you wet your lips at the sight of him— at Eddie Munson— resident freak of Hawkins and your best friend. 

Jesus.

Both your lips explicitly mutter words with eyes wild doe like. His going from lazy pleasure to shock. Yours were covered with your palm, the other reaching, fumbling for the door knob. 

Apologizing profusely you suddenly stammer around clearing your throat and trying to leave ASAP. 

The towel around your middle, the only thing keeping you decent, glides to the ground—falling gently like that fucking feather in opening scenes of Forest Gump. Practically in slow motion but still too quick for your blind shut eyes to catch it. 

Fuck.

Pulling with both hands on the knob your heart races to shut the door, not registering that the towel is wedged tight between the frame, making it impossible to shut. 

Shit shitshitshitshitSHIT

With a last feeble attempt of yanking your arms, the latch clicks into place and you beeline to your room with a slam of your door so hard it ricocheted off the walls, making a framed picture of you and Eddie at a Metallica concert fall to the ground, shattering the glass.

What the fuck? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!

Your heart boomed in your ears, back stuck to the door like you were holding it up. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Eddie naked, pretty sure your entire graduating class saw him naked on more than one occasion. But this?! This was so mouthwatering better than any other time. 

Goosebumps spread across your skin at the burned image of Eddie getting head on your retinas. The two of you had never crossed those lines. Each dating, fucking around it never once crossed your mind what he would be like in the sack, or what his sack would be like in your mouth. 

You’re pleased when you don’t cringe at the dirty thoughts of him— it felt like second nature, like eve seeing adam —lol okay maybe not, but still! What your mind was conjuring up was biblical. 

A giggle surpasses your lips and you wipe a line of drool from the corner of your mouth. Nerves finally settling as your realization hits— who was it?

It wasn’t Sarah, you hadn’t seen her since last fall. Eddie had said she started dating Steve—his comic book “arch nemesis” but in reality another bestie, who spent most of his time wallowing on your couch about Nancy than he did actually going on dates. 

Mary ended up being a virgin—preacher’s daughter, one of seven. He stopped seeing Clarissa after she wouldn’t stop over explaining every single minute detail of her day. Could it be the girl with the green leather jacket? Darla? Daria? 

The horny ache in your belly soured like curdled milk. 

How dare her (whoever she was!) The thought of someone other than you pulling those noises from Eddie suddenly set you on edge. Rage burned through your veins like lightning. Spidering and leeching to your skin. 

The pajamas you had taken off before your shower lay in a heap on your floor and you quickly yanked them on. Muttering to yourself about every vile thing you could imagine about whoever the lucky girl was who currently had a mouthful of your roommate. 

You needed to leave. The clouds of embarrassment eased overhead, colliding with the lightning making a storm brew deep beneath your surface and you be damned if you were going to let the rain fall whilst still in this apartment. 

Keys in your palm you throw open your bedroom door, ready to bolt through your apartment and down to your car— destination unknown. 

You nearly knock him over in your attempt to run. But you’re stopped cold by sweaty bangs, a heaving chest, and the same stupid pair of boxers that had small tears along the elastic from years of wear. 

“Sweetheart…” he coaxed, voice so sugary and laced with tiny shreds of venom it could ice a wedding cake— then strike you dead. 

You had seen plenty of Eddie today, your body screamed for you to leave, but your feet were stuck in the icing, waiting for the bomb to drop. 

Warmth from your cheeks from your shame could keep a trailer with broken windows warm in a blizzard—your stomach flipped— dropped like lead as his next words hit like a bullet. 

“We need to talk.” 

part two

steve tied up

[kathaelipwse]

Stuck With You

Masterlist

<<<previous chapter | next chapter>>>

Pairing: CEO!J.Yunho x Secretary!Reader

Trope: Grumpy x Sunshine

Warnings: Smau, Fluff, grumpy yunho, bickering, teasing, tension-

Word count: 0.9k

Author's note: Hie lovies! I hope y'll are fine! Take care of yourselfff!! Enjoyyyy!! Ahh! Requests are open lol O.O

Chapter 6: The Aftermath of Almosts

The morning after was suffocating.

You woke up to the sound of quiet shuffling, the faint rustling of fabric, and the distinct clink of a watch clasp snapping into place. Blinking against the sunlight, you turned over, still groggy, only to see Yunho standing by the hotel mirror, fixing his tie. His back was straight, movements methodical, face unreadable.

He was already dressed. Already distant.

The air was thick—so thick it felt like you were drowning in everything that wasn’t being said.

You stretched lazily, breaking the silence. “Good morning, boss.”

Yunho’s fingers paused on his tie for just a second before he continued, his voice clipped. “We’re leaving at nine.”

That was it. No eye contact, no sarcastic remark, no playful bickering—just a wall of cold, impenetrable steel.

You frowned, sitting up against the headboard. “Did you sleep well, or did something keep you up?”

His jaw clenched. His only response was to grab his suit jacket and head toward the door.

And just like that, he was gone.

The car ride back to Seoul was unbearable.

Yunho kept his eyes trained on the road, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. The tension was palpable—suffocating. The only sounds filling the space were the occasional sighs you let out just to annoy him and the quiet hum of the tires against the highway.

At some point, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Are you gonna ignore me forever, or is this just a limited-time offer?”

Yunho exhaled through his nose but didn’t answer.

You watched his fingers twitch against the wheel, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. He was holding something back. Good. You wanted him to snap.

You tilted your head, feigning nonchalance. “So… you were jealous last night.”

That did it.

Yunho’s grip on the wheel tightened to the point where you thought it might snap in half.

His voice was flat, controlled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You smirked. “Really? Because I distinctly remember your hand on my back all night. And that very specific glare you gave every man who looked at me.”

Yunho’s jaw ticked. “You’re imagining things.”

You hummed. “Oh? Then maybe I imagined one of them telling me I looked breathtaking, too.”

Slam.

Yunho hit the brakes—not dangerously, just hard enough that your heart jumped. Your smirk immediately faded as you turned to him.

His head was lowered slightly, his breathing controlled—but his entire body was tense.

When he finally turned to face you, his gaze was dark.

“You think this is a game?”

You held your ground. “I think you’re acting like it didn’t mean anything. But it did, didn’t it?”

Silence.

For a moment, you swore he was about to say something.

But instead, he let out a quiet, frustrated sigh, ran a hand through his hair, and muttered, “You don’t get it.”

And just like that, the conversation was over.

---

The moment you both stepped into the company building, Yunho switched.

The CEO mask was back on.

His stride was confident, his face unreadable, his presence commanding. But most importantly—he didn’t spare you a single glance.

Not when he gave instructions to the boardroom. Not when he passed by your desk. Not when you accidentally brushed shoulders in the hallway.

It was like the entire trip never happened.

But the more he ignored you, the more obvious it became.

Because every time you so much as laughed with another coworker, Yunho’s fingers twitched.

Because when you passed by his office, you swore you heard him sigh—like he was so damn tired of this.

Maybe… tired of fighting himself.

That evening, you knocked on his office door and stepped inside.

Yunho was standing near his desk, tie loosened, hair slightly tousled—probably from running his hands through it too many times. You placed a few documents in front of him.

“Sign these before you leave.”

He didn’t take them.

Instead, he stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable.

And then, quietly— “Do you enjoy messing with me?”

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

Yunho exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. "You flirt. You tease. You look at me like that. And then you walk away like it’s nothing."

Your breath caught.

He was tired. Tired of pretending. Tired of resisting.

You opened your mouth—to say what, you didn’t know—but he scoffed, shaking his head. "Just… forget it."

Then, without another word, he grabbed his coat and walked out.

Something in your chest twisted.

You couldn’t let him leave like this.

Without thinking, you grabbed your things and ran after him.

The moment you stepped outside, you were hit with cold rain.

Yunho had already made it halfway to his car, his tall frame slightly hunched against the downpour. But when he heard your footsteps, he stopped.

Slowly, he turned around.

For a second, he just stared at you, standing there in the rain, drenched and breathless.

You swallowed hard. "You’re right."

Yunho’s brows furrowed slightly. "About what?"

You took a shaky breath. "I do enjoy messing with you."

His lips parted slightly. His gaze dropped—to your soaked clothes, to your lips. He took a step closer.

Too close.

Your breath hitched.

His voice, low, almost dangerous: “Then tell me.”

Another step forward.

The rain blurred everything else. It was just you and him.

His fingers just barely ghosted along your wrist.

His next words were lethal.

“Do you want me to kiss you or not?”

Your heart stopped.

The rain pounded around you.

Yunho’s dark eyes burned into yours, waiting—daring you to answer.

And for the first time, you had no idea what to say.

...TO BE CONTINUED.

---

A/N: OH this is the silence before the storm~~

[spider-man-199999]

Pacifier

pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader;

word count: 5K

warnings: drinking; mentions of sex ; Peter is younger than the reader, but still 18. Reader is around 20. Peter is trying to pin reader even though he is younger.

summary: In this one you’re hired as Morgan’s babysitter (and low-key underpaid Stark!assistant). Looking after a little girl isn’t too hard, but looking after her “big bother” as well, definitely is.

an: I might make a part 2; I had so much fun writing this!

part2!

A loud crash from outside the room interrupted the story you were reading to Morgan. She didn't seem bothered, probably used to this type of sounds around the Stark tower, but you definitely weren't. Afternoon naps weren't her favourite and she was almost asleep when someone decided to be so loud outside and interrupt. You sighed and got up. 

"I'll be back in a second." you told the little girl as you paced towards the door.

The crashing sounds were becoming more frequent, like someone was hitting walls, falling over on the floor, knocking things out. You didn't really know what to expect on the other side.

"Hey, asshole, I'm trying to put Morgan to sleep here." you said as you opened. 

You saw a figure fall over on the floor and start rolling immediately after that. A red and blue suit. There was something on his face, it looked like an octopus but not quite and it seemed like it was trying to eat his head. You were relatively new to all of this Avengers thing, you were hired a while ago but Tony kept you at a distance, however, you definitely knew an alien when you saw one.

"Actually, nevermind." you corrected yourself and walked back in Morgan's room, closing the door shut.

That's how you met Spider-man. 

"I could really use a hand here!" he said between pants and grunts, fighting the thing. 

You pressed your forehead against the door, thinking about it for a second. Morgan was fast asleep the second you walked away from her, which made the situation a little easier. 

"I don't get paid enough for this shit." you whispered to yourself and opened the door again, walking out into the hallway. 

You looked around, trying to find something that would be useful. Spider-man was still rolling around on the floor, pulling at that thing that was making weird squeaky sounds and spreading something like saliva everywhere. The closest thing to a weapon there was a vase with the length of your forearm that got knocked over in the process. You grabbed it and walked over to the rolling man on the floor. 

"Stay still." you told him.

He lay on his back, still pulling the thing away from his head as you slammed the vase into it, breaking it. The alien squealed in pain and for a second stopped trying to bite off Spider-man's head. He took advantage of that and threw it to the foor, shooting a web over it after that. He finally relaxed as the fight for his life was over, looking over at you. 

"Thanks." he muttered

"Yeah um, no problem I guess?"

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

"Hey, can you run to the lab, I forgot a black file folder there and I need it for my meeting that's in like 5 minutes." Tony said while checking his watch.  

You were playing with Morgan and her dolls in the living room when he walked in. He seemed in a hurry, fixing his tie. You looked around the room after he spoke, it was just the three of you.

"Me?"

"No, Morgan. Of course it's you, I'll play with her while you're gone. And skim over the papers, there should be 10 pages inside. You have 3 minutes."

You got up and moved as quickly as you could. On most days you were losing the idea of the whole babysitting thing. Often Tony would make you do things like you were his assistant, schedule meetings, arrange travels, send you off buying things. You didn't mind doing that, especially since he was paying you and you got to live rent free in the Stark tower with his family. You were free to attend your university classes, that was part of your contract, but besides that you didn't get any other off hours. A contract that Tony made you rewrite yourself after you got accepted into ESU to fit both of your needs legally. You couldn't really complain though. The job came with more perks than anyone could ever want. Plus, you got to know all of the Avengers and people that talked to you in class were always excited to talk to you because of that. 

You read through the pages in the folder on your way back to the living room. All 10 of them were there and they were about some new materials and research for the Spider-man suit Tony had been making. 

Oh, Spider-man.

After your first encounter with him, things got kind of awkward whenever he came by. He was a nice kid, a little nerdy, but would never pass up an opportunity to flirt with you. It's not like you hated the attention but your life was already too busy to think about boys. 

"Heyyyyyy" you heard when you walked into the living room, looking up to see Peter smile. He was blushing while he looked at you. 

You closed the folder and handed it to Tony while you held the awkwards eye contact with the younger boy. 

"You should review the third page, it's not clarified where the electrum that you're using came from. If it's a naturally occurring alloy or a man-made one. The origin may not be important when you're actually using it, but for the lawyers it is."

"Oh, right, thanks kid." Tony said, taking out a pen from the inside pocket of his jacket so he could write down the missing information. 

You walked over to the kitchen, grabbing yourself a bottle of water. Peter tailed after you like a puppy. 

"Can you pass me a bottle as well?" 

You grabbed one and tossed it in his direction. The two of you took a sip at the same time. 

"So how was school?" you asked him

"Fine, the usual. We had a quiz in physics, I think I did well. How was uni?"

You shrugged at his question, looking over at Morgan. You could see her sitting on the floor and watching something on the TV through the door. Pepper was about to be home any minute now, which meant you were off duty for the night. 

"Shouldn't you be joining the meeting?"

"No, mr Stark thinks the only thing I'll be good at is distract people there."

"He has a point."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I had to skip this week. Tony flew over to Germany with Pepper, I had to run things around here."

"There goes being a responsible student."

You rolled your eyes at him. University classes were nothing like school, you could afford missing them as long as you could catch up on the material on your own after that. Peter was so actively trying to close the gap between the two of you that it was getting annoying. 

"It's fine, next week The Vacation starts. I'll be free for 14 whole days to knock myself out with classes."

"The vacation?" Peter asked, following your steps when you went down the hall, headed to your room.

The Vacation was a tradition that you imposed on the Stark family as "a good habit to establish closeness between them and trust in you". It was an event that occurred for an entirety of two weeks every year since you started working for them. It was the second time they were going to do it and you were more than thrilled that your plan worked. The whole point of it was to bring the family closer together. You would pick the destination, make reservations in a very expensive hotel on a far off island and send all of the Starks there to bond. There were few rules, mostly ideas that you collectively brainstormed. They were not allowed to use phones, the only exceptions that could be made were if 1) the world was ending; 2) aliens were invading earth; 3) someone died. And in those cases, you had to call the hotel and make the staff inform Tony. The only downside was that you didn't get to go. But that wasn't all bad, you had 2 weeks to go to all the college parties your heart desired and do all the things you usually didn't have time to. 

"Yeah, we get two weeks off."

"We?"

"The Starks, I meant. They are the ones who get to go on a trip and relax for 14 days while we keep things running around here."

"Does not sound like something Mr. Stark would do."

"You're right, he hated it at first but after he came back it was... He was very different."

The two of you had reached your bedroom at that point, standing in front of the door.

"So you'll be gone for two weeks?"

"Unfortunately, no, but I already have plans."

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

"Wait what do you mean he's staying here?" you asked, looking around the table. 

Tony said he wanted a big dinner before they left for Santorini, and that somehow translated to your regular once a month "family" dinners with Peter. You looked over at the flustered boy, throwing mental daggers at him while Tony spoke. 

"I took a chance last year, but no I don't really like the idea of you being alone here for an entire two weeks."

"Is this because I did something to lose your trust or do you just think I'm defenseless?"

"I don't think you're ENTIRELY defenseless. But it does feel more comfortable to have someone with, say, super strength around, just in case."

"In case of what? Me wanting to rearrange the entire house? Just a reminder that if I didn't help him three months ago, his head would be in some octopus' belly right now."

"You're exaggerating that!" Peter whined, embarrassed by the reference.

"Look, kid, I know you well enough to understand how irritating this must be for you, and a year ago I probably didn't care enough if you died while we were gone-"

"TONY!" Pepper tried to cut him off.

"-but as I was about to say, now I do. That's my decision and it's final."

You really wanted to continue the argument, to try and persuade him into changing his mind. But you didn't. His words touched you and you could really see where he was coming from. But Peter... out of all the Avengers out there, all of the 8 thousand mutants in New York, he had to choose Spider-man.

"I promise you won't even know I'm here!" Peter said, in a desperate attempt to appease you. 

"Peter, it's alright." 

Your reaction had taken everyone a back, they expected you to fight back more fiercely than this. 

"What?" you asked when you noticed everyone's stare. "Did you really expect me to throw a tantrum over this? Wow, maybe I should come with you after all, apparently you people don't know me at all."

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

The first couple of days were actually going according to your plans. You wanted to go to some parties and you were doing just that. You stumbled out of the elevator, giggling to yourself. A spider web shot your hand to the wall. Normal you would immediately start asking what the fuck was happening, but drunk you just looked at the web and started laughing her ass off. 

"Oh my god I'm so sorry!" Peter ran towards you, pulling at the web on your hand. You kept on laughing. He actually thought you were someone who was trying to break in.

"I'm lucky you shoot webs and not bullets!"

"Well, webs aren't the only thing I can shoot." he muttered under his breath. 

"Ew, Pete, nasty." you giggled, placing your hands on his shoulders. "I'm so glad you have super-strength. I can't walk."

"What?"

"Take me to my bedroom, please." you laughed, your knees feeling wobbly because of the alcohol. He felt you start to relax and wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you tightly. 

"Damn, so Mr. Stark was right, you needed someone around to take care of you." He said, a blushing mess while he picked you up like a bride and started walking towards your room. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your head rested on his shoulder. 

"Pffff, no, I'm the caretaker!! I'm taking care of you too right now!" you protested. 

"Sure you are." he laughed, loving that side of you. He wished your normal conversations could be this effortless and fun. Peter hated the front you were always putting on in front of everybody, especially him. He opened the door to your room, walking in and placing you down on the bed. He looked at you laying on the bed, wondering if he should take advantage of your bubbliness or not. 

Your hands moved down to your jeans, you were drunk, but there was no way in hell you were going to sleep in your clothes. You undid them and started pulling them down your legs. 

"Wow, wow, wow, though we were at least going on a date before this." you heard Peter say, noticing him in the room just now. 

You gasped in shock, starting to laugh after that. He turned his back not to look while you undressed, wondering if he should just leave or not. 

"Hey, I was meaning to ask..."

"Shhhhh, you talk way more than you usually do in my dreams, I'm trying to sleep."

"In your dreams?" he asked, turning his head so fast he almost snapped his neck. You were laying down in your underwear, back turned to him. 

"Yeah, like now, you're almost always in my dreams, but we never talk."

"What do we do then?"

You rolled over on your back, head turning towards him to look in his eyes. Even in the pitch darkness he could feel your eyes burning the skin on his face and it made him blush even more. 

"You know what we do, you're always there!" you said, annoyance in your tone. 

That's when he knew he had to draw the line and walk out of the room, it felt wrong to take advantage of your state and he knew you would kill him the next day if you remembered anything. 

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

Peter Parker was a lucky bastard. Not only did he get to be alone in the same house as his crush for two whole weeks, but somehow he even managed to convince her to go to Flash's party with him. Yes, you were very displeased with that fact, tried everything in your power to convince him it was a bad idea but he didn't listen. 

"How is this not embarrassing for the both of us?" you asked on the way there. 

"Why would it be embarrassing?"

"For starters, you're going to a party with your babysitter. And I'm a college student attending a highschool party... What's next? You blackmail me into being your date to prom?"

"You're not my babysitter, I'm yours."

"No you're not."

"How am I not? Mr. Stark made me stay over in his house so you wouldn't be alone! I'm the babysitter!"

"Peter you're like 15, you can't be the babysitter when you're the actual baby!"

"I'm 18."

"Wait you are? Why am I driving then?"

Despite the hard time you were giving him almost the entire time, he convinced you. And now he got to watch you while you chatted with his best friend, holding a cup of punch. 

"How do you even know a girl like that, Penis Parker?" Flash asked him, both of them standing side by side while observing you.

"Well, you know, the Stark internship and all."

"Honestly, I thought she was imaginary. She's not a paid actress, right?"

"Yeah, well no, if I paid her she'd have to be nice to me."

You glanced over to the two of them, smiling lightly when you caught them staring. You've been getting stares the whole night, and it really did feel like you were back in high school. The two boys got flustered when you caught them, turning their heads in opposite directions. You shook your head.

"It was lovely talking to you, Ned. But I have a fanclub to tend to, see you around." you said, placing your hand on Ned's shoulder as a goodbye gesture and walked off to Peter and Flash. 

"Ah, if it isn't my favourite senior!" you said with a giggle, standing next to Peter. The alcohol seemed to be kicking in because you were unexpectedly nice to him. 

"I'm Flash, the host." Flash said and reached out a hand to you. 

You looked at him. You didn't know too much about Flash, only that he didn't like Peter and was giving him a hard time. That was one of the reasons why you agreed to this, to help the poor boy out, stop the bullying for a little while. You blinked a few times, not taking his hand.

"Y\n." you said simply, turning to Peter again. You placed your free hand on his shoulder, scooting over to him so you could get on your tip-toes and whisper into his ear. "So that's the mighty Flash guy? Looks like a loser to me." 

Peter laughed softly at your words, placing a hand on your waist to help you keep your balance. 

"So, how do you like the party guys?" Flash tried to bounce back.

The two of you looked at him. He stared back at you, noticing Peter's hand on your waist that you didn't seem to mind at all. Flash was really feeling like the loser tonight. The guy he constantly bullied came to his party with a college girl. And not just any college girl, one that worked for Stark Industries, and was drop-dead gorgeous on top of it all. And she had Peter Parker's arm wrapped around her.

"For a high school party... it's okay." you said, resting your head on Peter's shoulder. 

"Well I throw the best parties! Peter wouldn't know, he's rarely invited."

"Peter's seen way better parties than this one, I take him to the ones we throw on campus all the time, right Pete?" You lied. You were lying to defend Peter and make him look cooler. 

He nodded to your words. You could practically see Flash's face turn red as he was showed up, once again.

"Whatever." He muttered and walked away.

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

The more time you spent with Peter, the harder it got to dislike him. It's not like you really disliked him to begin with, but it annoyed you how absurdly confident he was in the Spider-man suit. He tried flirting as Peter Parker as well, sure, but nothing could compare to Spider-man. And for some reason you hated the fact that he was younger than you. There was nothing morally wrong with liking him, he was 18 and you were just two years older, in perspective this would not matter at all once he got in college, which was about to happen in a few months anyway. Something about the thought of having a high school boyfriend while you were halfway done with your degree really made you cringe. 

But you had to give him credit for trying so hard. The boy just wouldn't give up, no matter how brutal you were every time he tried something. This whole internal conflict of yours was tearing you apart, and it got worse since he moved in for the two weeks. 

"Okay listen." you started as you parked your car in the campus parking lot. "Do not go disappearing on me. And don't drink, not even a sip, you're too young for that. If the police come, run."

"And I thought you were going to have a positive influence on me."

"We're doing this because of you, remember? You were the one who wanted to make Flash shut up by posting a picture from an actual frat party."

"You were the one who lied about that."

"Well, I'm sorry that I was trying to help." 

You got out of the car and locked it after Peter followed. You knew in your heart that this was a very, very bad idea. You were just praying that you wouldn't get drunk enough to do something you'd regret and that he wouldn't get drunk at all. Someone had to drive the two of you back home and it definitely wasn't going to be you. You handed him the car keys before you started walking to the frat house. He put them in his jean pocket, following you like he usually did. Frat parties were nothing like the one Flash threw a few days ago, things here always got out of control. People were taking body shots, smoking, using drugs, making out. The whole "please don't break anything, it's my parents' house" vibe was not there. You knew it, Peter definitely knew it as well. 

"Let's get the pictures and be done with this." you told him over the loud music. 

He nodded, unsure if he actually wanted to stay or leave. He was not a party guy, but he didn't completely hate the experience. You grabbed yourself a drink, greeting a few people you knew from classes. 

"I cannot believe this!" Someone shouted behind you, making you and Peter both turn in sync. It was Lidia, a girl you had a group project with a few weeks back. You texted here and there but you could never make it to places she invited you. 

"Oh hey" you said, hugging the strawberry blonde and smiling. 

"How did you manage to get out of that corporate job you have? And who is this eye candy?" you smiled at Peter, offering her hand to introduce herself. 

"That's Peter Parker, he's my...." you stopped, looking over at him. You started the sentence with the wrong words but it was too late to switch it up.

"Boyfriend." He just had to jump at the opportunity, didn't he?

"He definitely wishes he was." you snapped back at him, looking over at Lidia again. "He's an intern."

"Come on babe, you don't have to be shy about it." 

He was pushing his limits here and enjoying it, smiling at how embarrassed and flustered you'd get trying to deny it. It really made it seem like you were just uncomfortable labeling something you really did have with him and he was taking initiative. 

"Such a shame, if I had locked up a snack like that I would be bragging to the whole world!" Linda said, laughing at your reaction together with Peter. She pulled him closer, whispering in his ear. "I'm not surprised by her act, she doesn't like sharing anything about herself, you have a tough nut to crack."

Lidia left the two of you with an encouraging smile, like you really had something to do with him.

"Traitor." you told him, drinking the entire content of your cup in one breath.

"Wow, take it easy, I'm not carrying you around like last time."

"I'm so mad at you! Why did you say that?"

"Why not? It's not like she'll see me ever again, tell her we broke up next time she asks."

"It was straight up unnecessary!"

He put his hands on your shoulders, lowering himself down on your eye level. 

"You're making a scene right now. Relax, I did it so girls wouldn't flirt with me."

You gave him the death glare that he was so used to seeing.

"Like anyone would flirt with you!"

"Yes, your friend did, the second she saw me."

He was right, she did start her introduction with a flirt, which annoyed you slightly, but it wasn't something you wouldn't get over. 

"Don't try anything with me." you told him. You knew how you got when you were drunk and you'd feel bad if he took advantage of that.

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

"Pete?" you knocked on a bedroom door upstairs. No answer. 

You got absolutely hammered after your argument with Peter. He spent the night running after you like a bodyguard because you would wander off somewhere without even saying a word. You did it again, after he told you to stay put so he could go to the bathroom. He said he'd be back in 5 minutes. He was back in 3, but you were gone. Since you had no perception of time while you were drunk, you thought he was gone for more than half an hour and started looking for him. So, the two of you were basically looking for each other at a frat party. You went upstairs, walking in on two or three couples making out or even having sex while looking for him. He, on the other hand, was searching downstairs. He found Lidia and asked her for help, to which she agreed. 

After not having any luck upstairs, you headed straight out of the house before any of them could catch a glimpse of you. Peter tried calling but your phone, along with the car keys, were in his pocket. 

"I'm really starting to get freaked out here." He told Linda as they walked up the stairs together. 

"Look, if we find her here, I'm sorry. If we don't, I'll start to worry as well."

They didn't find you in any of the frat bedrooms which was both good and bad news at the same time. 

"Is there any chance she could have gone home?"

"No, I'm the one driving back. Unless she took a cab, but I doubt that, her phone is here as well."

They walked out of the house, Peter sat on the stairs and pulled at his hair nervously. How did you manage to disappear into thin air in 3 minutes? He was the one supposed to look after you. Lidia sat down next to him, placing her hand on his back and running it up and down for comfort. She leaned closer to him, her body pressing to the side of his. Peter turned his head to look at her but they were interrupted by a familiar fit of laughter. Peter stood up, looking in the direction of the sound when he saw you down the street. One of your arms was holding onto a lampost while you were swinging around it in circles and laughing. 

"Thank god." he said in relief, offering a hand to Lidia. "I present to you, drunk Y\N. One of the funniest people you'll ever meet."

The two of them paced towards you.

"PETEY!" you said, letting go of the lamp. You were dizzy from the spinning and the alcohol but made a few wobbly steps in his direction, so he could catch you just before you fell. You looked up to him and cupped his cheeks with your palms, squishing his face. 

''Here's my little, almost minor wanna-be-boyfriend!" you giggled. 

He turned you around, pressing your back against his chest and wrapped his arms around you so you could face Lidia. She was staring at you in disbelief. 

"My friend! The only one I have. Pete, look, my friend!" you turned your head to Peter and pointed at Lidia. He laughed at you, kissing the top of your head. Peter couldn't help but fall in love with you even harder when you were acting like a toddler that needed attention. 

"You weren't wrong, this is funny." Lidia said after the initial shock was over. 

"Okay, missy, we should probably go home now."

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because you'll want to kiss!"

"I mean, I always want to kiss you, I don't see your point."

"But there are no people at home!"

"And?"

"There won't be a reason not to kiss!"

"So you're saying what's stopping you from kissing me here are the people?"

"Yes."

"And if there weren't any people around, you would kiss me?"

"No! You would kiss me!"

"I want to kiss you now as well?" Peter and Lidia laughed, making you puzzled. 

"No, you got it wrong!"

"How did I get it wrong?"

"We can't go home because we will kiss."

"Now you're making me want to go home even more."

You thought about it for a second, confused. You looked up at Peter and then at Lidia who were dying from laughter at that point. It got you even more confused than before. 

"Okay, Lidia, it was lovely meeting you, but I need to get her to bed." Peter said after they calmed down. 

"We can't go home!"

"If I promise not to kiss you, can we go home?"

"I guess."

Peter was holding you the whole time but let you go so you could hug your friend goodbye. He didn't want to let go, it was the only time you would ever let him touch you without getting angry at him and he wanted it to last longer, so when you turned to him again, his arm was wrapped around your shoulders as he escorted you to the car.

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

You were awfully silent the whole ride back. 

"Are you still worried about me kissing you?" He asked after the two of you got inside.

"No." 

"Then why are you so quiet?" he asked, sitting down on the couch. You sat down next to him, staring at him. He turned his head to look at you, a bit weirded out from your act.

"You're starting to freak me out here."

"Sorry." you mumbled, looking down at your lap now.

You turned your head to look back at him, then down your lap again, and repeated the whole process a few times like a robot that was experiencing a glitch. Peter looked at you with the side of his eyes because he was checking the replies to his instagram stories from the frat party. He turned his head fully towards you, his eyebrows furrowed. Before he could say anything, you leaned in and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards you. Your lips crashed together and you gave him the softest, sweetest kiss in his life. He dropped his phone on the floor but he couldn't care less about that right now, his crush was kissing him. His hands grabbed your waist while yours were on his cheeks, your lips dancing together. He tried to pull away because he was uncertain of how much you really wanted this but your teeth dug into his bottom lip and pulled him back in again. 

"Pete" you said softly after the kiss, both of your foreheads pressed against each other's as your hot heavy breaths mixed together.

"Yeah?"

"I wanna do the thing we do in my dreams."

[skyward-floored]

re Lost meeting Twilight: Peggy I am on my knees please write smth about this 🙏🏼 /nf /only if you want to

- hero-of-the-wolf

@hero-of-the-wolf I literally have not stopped thinking about this since you sent it, here’s Lost meeting Twilight and the chain (I’m cringe but free)

(Brief blood/violence warning, but it’s not too bad. Also a bit of a panic attack in there.)

————————————————————

Happy barking followed Link as he walked through the long grass of Hyrule Field, his dog’s tail waving like a fluffy white flag beside him. Winter barked again, scaring some birds that had been hiding in the grass, and Link couldn’t help but smile as his dog pranced back over to him, tongue happily lolling.

It was a nice day, cool but sunny, a handful of fluffy clouds drifting by in the sky. Link... technically wasn’t supposed to be out here, at least not without telling anyone, but the walls of the castle had felt like they were stifling him, and Winter seemed like he was in the mood to get out and run.

And besides, if Zelda hadn’t been stuck in bed with a nasty cold, then he was sure she would’ve dragged him out here anyway.

Link took in a slow, deep breath, watching a few pink flowers wave in the breeze as Winter ran around nearby. It was a better day today, a little less heavy, his heart less weary. Things were still... not great, sometimes, a lot of the time, but right now he felt... okay.

The nice weather certainly helped with that. Sunshine always seemed to brighten things.

Winter’s head suddenly poked up from the grass, his ears erect, and he trotted over to Link’s side, whining.

“What’s the matter boy?” Link asked, and Winter’s ears swiveled, his nose in the air as he sniffed.

His dog began to pace slowly towards the flowers Link had been watching, tail stiff and nose still sniffing intently. He whined again, looking back at Link, and Link felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle suddenly, a sense of foreboding sweeping over him.

Then a pool of purple and black appeared out of thin air in front of them.

Winter began barking up a storm and Link’s breath left his body, terror shooting up his spine. He felt like he couldn’t look away, eyes fixed on the faintly swirling darkness in front of him, and he stumbled backwards.

It didn’t feel the same, the magic wasn’t the same, he knew it wasn’t, but—

But—

Link took in a shaking breath, and Winter was suddenly back at his side, whining softly as he butted his head against him. Link set a hand on his neck, taking a bit of strength from burying his fingers in his thick fur, and tried to still the shaking in his hands. Once they weren’t trembling quite as hard, Link exhaled slowly, and looked up, eyeing the swirl of darkness in front of him with his heart pounding.

He’d never seen anything quite like this before, some kind of dark... portal thing. And he wasn’t exactly inexperienced in things involving dark magic.

Winter growled beside him, sensing his unease, or perhaps just as bothered by the sight as he was, and he stayed at Link’s side, ears pricked. Link ran a hand over his fur as he studied the darkness, very glad he hadn’t come out here alone.

Link swallowed, and taking another breath, edged closer to the sheen of dark magic, Winter following. He could feel the magic coming off the portal— gate maybe?— in waves, harsh things that made the scars on his back sting and his throat tighten.

It wasn’t the same. He could tell it wasn’t.

Relax, idiot. He’s gone.

Link drew close enough that he could reach his arm out and touch the portal if he wanted to, and he stared into the swirling depths, unsure of how to proceed. What now? If Zelda were here, she could blast the thing with light and be done with it, but she wouldn’t be back on her feet for at least a week. What could he do in the meantime?

What if something came out of it?

Almost like it had heard him, the darkness rippled, and before Link or Winter could do anything, something dark barreled out of the shadows and slammed into them.

Link shouted in alarm as he and the dark thing rolled down the hill, Winter’s barking only confusing him more as his world went topsy-turvy. They abruptly thumped to a stop against a rock, and though Link’s vision wasn’t very clear at the moment, he saw sharp teeth and red eyes above him.

He yelped, snatching frantically at the dagger he had on him, and the sharp-teethed thing snapped at his face. Link barely managed to avoid the swift attacks aimed at him, sharp claws pressing down on his chest, teeth grazing his neck and snapping at his nose.

But he finally managed to grab his dagger, and Link jabbed it deep into the lizardy-beast’s arm.

It screeched furiously, then abruptly leapt off of him, its foot slamming into his gut and knocking the air out of him as it went.

Link’s breath left him in a sharp gasp, and he wheezed for air his lungs didn’t want to give him as he watched the lizardy-thing bolt away into the grass. Apparently it wasn’t interested in continuing the fight. That or it had fled for another reason.

Regardless, he needed to get up and follow it, who knew what a monster like that was up to?

Link lay in the grass, wheezing as his heartbeat pounded in his ears. His breath slowly came back, and as he checked back into his surroundings, he became aware of a noise other than barking. It sounded like... words?

Link grunted and managed to raise himself up to an elbow, still thrown from the past several minutes. He rubbed his neck where the beast’s teeth had grazed him, feeling just a little blood, and heard several footsteps approaching him.

“...sent that guy flying, hope he’s all right—”

“Hey, you okay?”

Two pairs of boots appeared in Link’s vision, and he looked up at the two men who were standing in front of him.

The first was actually a child— or a teenager, maybe? Dressed in bright colors that were hard to focus on with his still-dizzy vision. He could make out cropped blond hair and a concerned look though, and was formulating a reply when the other man offered him a hand up.

Link took one look at him and froze.

Dark lines were marked across the man’s forehead, trailing down his nose and dashed across his cheeks. Link barely took in the worried expression creasing them, nor the bright blue eyes, just the dark markings, obviously left by magic. As Link stared at them, he felt a sharp prick of something completely unnatural, something that felt far too similar to—

Zelda’s scream rang in his ears, and Link scrabbled backward from both strangers, his breath catching in his throat.

This man— he must— he had to—

“Whoa, are you okay?” the man asked, and Link clutched at his chest, the terror he’d been fighting back ever since he’d seen that awful portal finally crashing over him like a wave.

“You— stay back,” Link gasped when the man stretched his hand out again, seeing nothing but the dark marks on his face. “Don’t— Not again, he can’t—”

Link tried to scramble further back, but his head felt suddenly light, his tunic like it was constricting him. His arm shook, and the other one unconsciously went to feel at his face, as if he could still feel the markings that had once been there.

“Hey, whoa it’s okay,” a voice tried to soothe, and Link might’ve trusted it but for the fact that the dark magic whispered through it. “The shadow—”

Something dark approached him and Link frantically kicked out, his boot connecting with something. He tried to scramble back again when he heard a cry, but his shoulders hit something, and he knew he was cornered.

No no no no—!

“Whoa! What’s the matter with him?”

“I don’t know, he took one look at Twi and flipped out, he—”

“Rancher stop trying, you’re just scaring him—”

Link clutched at his hair, trying to fight against the dark magic he could feel, unsure of where it was even coming from but feeling like it was everywhere, his breath coming so fast he felt sick.

There was a roaring sound in his ears, so loud he couldn’t hear anything but his own frantic breath and galloping heartbeat. He didn’t know what to do, where was Zelda, he needed her—

There was something damp on his fingers, he realized, and Link stared at it in horror, reddish smears marking his palm, terror beating in his heart more quickly by the second.

He must have killed someone.

Oh goddesses why else would he have blood on his hands, he’d heard a cry and he must have—

I hurt someone, I killed someone, they’re dead not again not again—

Link choked on thin air, his lungs constricting him, the blood on his hands seeming to multiply until he felt like he was drowning in it, roaring in his ears so loudly he couldn’t hear anything but that and his heart racing in his chest.

Until a voice managed to suddenly break through it.

“Sir? Can you hear me?”

Link sucked in a thin gasp at the sound, the voice startlingly familiar.

He... he knew who that was. And he knew they were safe, that if that voice was here then... things were okay. And because he was hearing him, that meant...

That meant Link was safe.

Memories of warm green took the place of dark purple and red, a kind smile, strong embrace, a bright sword cutting through the darkness. Link sucked in another gasp, and tried to draw himself out of the panic crushing him like a vice, clutching at the sun-warmed grass that surrounded him, trying to listen past his panicked heartbeat.

He swallowed, and his vision focused, the colors in front of him organizing into definite shapes, faces and figures. He felt a burst of hope when he saw the man kneeling in front of him, but as his figure came more clearly into view, he realized it wasn’t who he thought it was.

But the smile was the same, that same regal warmth he remembered from speaking with Courage himself.

“You’re safe, I promise,” the man reassured softly, pushing his white cape over his shoulder. “Nobody here is going to hurt you. Are you all right?”

Link didn’t quite trust his voice, so he slowly nodded, his heart still beating like a bird trapped in his ribcage. He lifted his head a bit more, and saw that there were several people standing behind the man, pretending not to watch them.

“Hey, are you hurt?” the man with the cape asked, and Link flicked his gaze back to him, slowly shaking his head before shrugging a little. He was coming back to himself more and more, and suddenly recalled the scratch on his neck he’d received. He lightly felt at it, and saw the man nod. “Ah, yeah looks like you got nicked. It doesn’t look like you’re bleeding any more though. We should probably wrap it just in—”

“My dog,” Link croaked suddenly, realizing he couldn’t hear Winter’s barking. Worry shook over him, and he swallowed. “Where’s...”

“He’s over there with our rancher,” the man in the cape said, gesturing behind him. “He went after the lizard when it jumped off you, Twilight’s just making sure he’s okay.”

“He’s really big and fluffy,” a different voice spoke up, a kid in blue and orange. “I thought he was a wolf at first.”

Link blinked in response, and took in a shuddering breath. He raised his head a little more, gaze flicking around at the group of men that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere as he looked for Winter.

Most of them were dressed in bright colors, not too unusual, but not all of them were really dressed for the climate, evidenced by the way a few were rubbing their arms. Link kept looking, his ears growing a little warm at the sheer number of people who’d just seen him freak out, then froze.

Winter was near the back of the group, tail wagging as he was scratched behind the ears. The man scratching him was the one with the dark marks on his face, the one with the pulse of wrong that Link had felt, but— Winter wasn’t acting suspicious of him at all.

His dog looked like he was... enjoying himself.

“That’s our rancher,” someone spoke up, and Link saw the kid with the multicolored tunic again, giving him a kind look. His voice lowered a little and he leaned closer. “I can understand why you’d be distrustful of him. But those marks don’t mean anything bad.”

Link swallowed and looked at the man again, Winter acting completely unbothered by his presence. The rancher happened to look up at the same time, and his eyes held nothing but guilt as they met Link’s.

...Even though he was the one holding a cloth to his nose, fabric stained with blood.

Guilt crested over Link. Oh no. “Is he—”

“It’s merely a bloody nose, you didn’t do any significant harm,” someone assured, and Link looked back to see a man in full plate armor walk up. He also had marks on his face, though they weren’t dark like the rancher’s, and despite the twinge of something Link felt from them, they didn’t immediately send him panicking.

The kid in blue spoke up again. “Yeah, I elbowed Wild and gave him a bloody nose last week and he didn’t even care!”

“Uh, yes I did,” a voice somewhere near Twilight replied, and the kid scrunched his face in that direction.

“Well your nose wasn’t broken so I consider it a win.”

“I... I apologize for hitting him,” Link said quietly, and the man with the cape patted his arm in a consoling way as he handed Link some bandages.

“It’s okay. You were frightened, he should have moved when we realized what startled you,” he apologized with a wince. “I’m Sky, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Link,” Link replied as he carefully wiped off his neck, and the entire group seemed to still, casting each other significant looks.

Link’s heart sank as they all looked back at him, and he couldn’t help but shrink into himself as he quickly bandages his scrape. They must have heard of me. Would they be so quick to forgive him now that they knew who he was?

The kid with the blue tunic and orange pants suddenly grinned, and crowed excitedly as he punched one wearing red and green on the arm.

“I told you! I told you we were going to get another! You owe me twenty rupees!”

“Alright sailor, you were right, sheesh,” the other huffed, and a few laughs went up, the plate-armored man’s face softening as he looked at Link.

“You’re the hero of this land, aren’t you?” he asked, and Link felt about ten times more confused than he had previously. Why were they asking him that? Surely they knew who he was, what he’d done. How couldn’t they? Unless... they were foreigners?

Regardless, this man was mistaken.

“I’m no hero,” he scoffed, suddenly feeling disgusted with himself. The happy atmosphere drained at his words, and he received several surprised looks. “If you’re looking for one, you want the princess, not me.”

“Just the princess? Not you?” one with a flowing scarf asked, an eyebrow raised.

Link lowered his gaze. “Not me.”

The man with the cape— Sky, looked at him with an odd expression after he spoke, and he reached behind him, pulling something out. He carefully set it on his knees, and Link stared, the blood draining from his face.

“I see you recognize her. Did you ever wield this blade?” Sky asked quietly, and a dizzy feeling swept over Link as he quickly braced his hands in the grass.

That was impossible. Then Master Sword had been laid to rest, he and Zelda were in the process of making it as secure as possible, nobody but he and Zelda could even properly pick it up, how—

“I did, but... how are you... who... are you people?” Link asked, feeling oddly afraid.

Sky gently set his hand on Link’s arm, and Link almost hated how comforted he was by the touch.

“It’s an odd tale, but bear with us,” he said with a smile. “Believe it or not, we’re... actually all named Link.”

Link blinked, and heard a few chuckles.

“That’s not even the weirdest part,” the kid with the multicolored tunic snorted.

“Oh, tell him about the time traveling!” the voice that had supposedly been elbowed last week said excitedly.

“Shush y’all, let him explain,” the rancher called above the chatter, and gestured to the man with plate armor as the clamor died down.

“Thank you. As Sky said, we’re all named Link, but that’s only part of it,” the oldest explained, watching Link steadily with his one eye. “We’re heroes from across time, past and future, many who have wielded that blade. We’re traveling through the portals that the Shadow who ran into you earlier is opening, as well as fighting beasts he’s infected. He is our enemy, and he’s been causing a great deal of trouble. Trouble that may have disastrous consequences.”

Link took all of that in in silence, casting his gaze slowly around the group. Many were young, or close to his age, but the way they held themselves, the spark in their eyes, the weapons they bore... they reminded him of Courage. Of that same spark, that strength, a kindred soul, someone close as a brother.

And he didn’t belong in their number.

“I know you denied being a hero... but surely you feel the pull, don’t you?” the multicolored kid spoke up again. His grey eyes were bright as he looked at Link. “That touch of family. Something that’s beyond a mere familiarity.”

“We could use your help,” Sky added softly, and Link looked at the Master Sword in his lap, the blade that had caused him so much trouble shining innocently in the sunlight.

“You don’t want my help. I just make everything worse,” Link replied quietly, and slowly got to his feet, Sky’s hand slipping from his arm. Link gave a short whistle, catching Winter’s attention, and his dog happily trotted over, tail wagging as he pressed against his side. “I’m sorry.”

“But—”

“I’m not a hero, I’m sorry,” Link said sharply, then breathed in, and out. “I don’t belong in your group.“

“But you—”

“That’s his decision, sailor,” the scarfed man interrupted the kid with the lobster shirt. He met Link’s gaze. “We won’t force you to come. Though you may change your mind if you come across any of the infected monsters.”

“...What do you mean by infected?” Link asked in a quiet voice, and the eldest of the group sighed.

“Empowered is more accurate. They appear as normal monsters, but have blackened blood, stronger attack and defense and a heightened intelligence that makes defeating them a pain, if not plain dangerous,” he explained.

Link swallowed. That sounded bad.

...That sounded really bad actually, and Link knew it was his responsibility to take care of it, especially while Zelda was sick. And while he wasn’t afraid to fight monsters— that had never been a problem for him— but going along with these men, these heroes...

Link swallowed again. He didn’t belong with them. He would only make their job harder. Especially if panicking so much at even a hint of dark magic was going to be a regular thing now.

“I’ll need to speak with the princess about this,” he said finally, and a few heads perked up.

“That’s fine. We’d actually like to speak to her as well,” the scarfed knight said.

“Yeah, especially since the Shadow got away,” the blue and orange kid huffed. “How does he always disappear on us like that?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it,” the teenager wearing red and green added as he crossed his arms. “It makes it awfully hard to track him. Or fight him. Or formulate a plan to beat him.”

“I don’t suppose you’d mind guiding us to the castle?” Sky asked while the others chattered, and Link hummed in agreement, burying a hand in Winter’s fur. He could do that at least. These men’s story was utterly bizarre, but the colorful one had been correct— Link did feel a pull towards them, one that was warm and familiar, and despite his initial reaction, he felt that they didn’t mean any harm.

And even if Link was wrong and they did, the castle was plenty defended.

“I can do that. You’ll likely have to wait for an audience though,” Link warned. Zelda would probably insist on seeing them anyway, but he wouldn’t discount Impa forbidding anything even remotely taxing.

“That’s fine,” the eldest said. “Thank you.”

Link nodded in return, swallowing. Hopefully Zelda would know what to do with... all this. Or if not, surely his father or Impa would.

He himself was feeling more lost by the second.

Link breathed out as he petted Winter, and looked across the group again, slowly taking each of them in. He met the eyes of the rancher again, his nose finally stopped bleeding, and dipped his head in apology, ignoring the flicker of panic he got from the sight of the markings. It wasn’t very fair for him to freak out about some dark lines. For all he knew, this man had been in a similar position to him, and just not been lucky enough to have had his markings fade.

The rancher nodded back at him, an oddly grieved look on his face, and Link quickly turned away, motioning for them all to follow.

The sooner they reached the castle the better.

[caitlinsnicket]

i've seen hell

request; can you write a hattie shaw x reader smut where they're on the couch and by the end of it right after they finish her brother almost catches them?

warnings; I made this with fem!reader in mind, but I don't think I was too descriptive. oral, fingering, getting caught, the works. Also very short.

characters; Hattie Shaw, Deckard Shaw, reader.

pairing; Hattie x reader

a/n; Ever since that god forsaken fantastic four trailer came out she's plagued my mind and jesus christ I'm obsessed.

Hattie Shaw is not a teenager. She’s a grown-ass woman—wanted for many crimes, a government agent, a spy, among other things. She knows how to shoot, how to fight, how to drive, how to take care of a bullet wound. She has seen people die, and she has killed before. So, you’d expect her to be mature, to handle things like a regular adult.

And yet.

And yet, she’s on a couch—Deck’s couch, of all places—laid on top of the only person who makes her palms sweat. Speaking of palms, her left arm aches from supporting her weight while her right hand is buried in your pants. Your lips touch, tongues teasing as breathless moans escape between them. Your hands can't stop moving, gliding from her face to her shoulders and back up again.

“Hattie… don’t tease,” you murmur against her, hips moving with no coordination, desperately seeking friction.

Hattie smiles, taking the opportunity to press a lingering kiss against the soft skin of your neck. Her thumb finally brushes against your clit, drawing a moan from your lips.

"If you stopped being annoying, I wouldn’t have to tease you," she says, her mouth trailing down to lick at the juncture of your shoulder and neck.

Smirking, you push her away just long enough to strip off your shirt and bra—the latter of which she had already managed to unclasp. ("Quick fingers, love. You know how it is," as she liked to say.) When you lay back again, you notice her staring.

Hattie's soft spot for you was already something worthy of note, but the way she visibly melted whenever you batted your eyelashes at her was almost laughable. It was the way your lips jutted into a slight pout, the way your brows knitted together just barely, that made her want to punch a wall and cover you in kisses.

Plus, your chest being right in front of her was a nice touch.

Swiftly, she helped you unbutton and slide off your pants while managing to kiss you in the process. You could feel her smirk against your belly as she descended lower, and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning too loudly when her hands moved up to massage your chest. As she reached your navel—just a little too far from the aching spot between your legs—she bit down, and you couldn't help but tremble beneath her attention.

The rest felt like a blur. Her tongue flicking away, her fingers curling at the exact right spot, squeezing and stroking until you lost count of how many times you had finished all over her face.

And then—

With her girlfriend’s body completely exposed, her tongue shoved deep between her legs, the door suddenly swung open.

Hattie would be chastised later for not paying more attention, but in her defense, it was a bit hard to hear the jingle of keys when her hearing was muffled by moans and a pair of thighs.

"What the fuck?" Deckard's voice rang out in pure disgust before the door slammed shut with force, followed by the unmistakable sound of gagging echoing down the corridor.

Hattie flew back in horror while you scrambled to hide yourself under the cushion behind your head. You couldn’t stop laughing, your hands covering your mouth, eyes welling up with tears.

Hattie, in full panic mode, rushed to the guest bedroom and returned with a blanket, draping it over you and trying to get you up—until she gave up. You were laughing too much.

“He’s gonna kill me. I’m dead,” she muttered, hastily wiping her chin and trying to fix her hair into something less obviously just had my face between someone’s legs. "I’m gonna talk to him. Please, go take a shower. And don’t forget your panties."

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and marched toward the door like a woman about to face a firing squad. Meanwhile, all you could do was laugh, covering your face, too pleased and too shocked to do anything else.