#watch tremors guys it's so good

[ariadne-mouse]

Tremors (1990)

[notverycolonthreeofyou]

One day I’m going to write a Craig and Tweek Tremors (1990) fic because it’s genuinely one of my favorite movies ever and you can’t stop me!!!!!

[hanasnx]

SQUIRTING — s.reid

“ i love how you touch, how you feel, how you breathe / baby, how you do it so good? ” 🪽

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ ✉️ | criminal minds. NOTES. never seen one single episode of criminal minds but i did miss my mutual @ddejavvu’s bday last october and wanted to make up for it. WARNINGS. fem reader ノ established relationship ノ potentially ooc spencer ノ fem squirting ノ pussy eating & orgasm mentions ノ vaginal fingering ノ explicit sexual content ノ praise kink (f receiving) ノ squirt obsessed spencer ノ lowkey unedited.

Don’t be fooled by SPENCER REID’s calm demeanor and harmless facade. Don’t get caught up in that little smile he does when he has nothing further to say, or the way his fluffy hair flops over his forehead when he inclines down to lend you an ear to hear you better. Don’t let your guard down when he info dumps his latest fascination, having traversed the rabbit hole of complex animal mating cycles or the latest scientific observation of quarks. Dr. Reid is no one to be underestimated.

You should’ve known better than to think of him as disarming and therefore “harmless.” It’s the first time in a long time that you’ve been so wrapped up in a guy, coming up for air rarely while you’re practically living at his place. Your clothes are strewn about his apartment, your favorite shampoo is in his shower, he bought you your own toothbrush to keep on your shelf in his medicine cabinet. Oh, it’s bad. There’s no turning back now. You’re completely and utterly helpless. If you could go back in time to warn your past self of the madness you’re about to endure…

“C’mon, baby, one more. Can’t you do one more?” it’s a plea devoid of any doubt, he can feel the way you’re pulsing around his fingers. It’s the familiar rev that quakes just before a big release, and his knuckles know the tremor intimately. That brain isn’t just used for his job, it’s memorized every part of you—even the parts you thought you weren’t ready to share.

You writhe, desperately nuzzling the back of your head into the mattress, heating up from the friction. Gritting your teeth, your body feels like it’s on fire, and the build in your gut is like something’s being taken from you. It’s a merciless pace completed by three of the longest fingers you’ve ever had inside of you, bullying your insides relentlessly prodding that spongy spot to chase a most coveted reaction. Your muscles contract and stretch, lifting your pelvis from the pillow he set it on like it’s demanding more. It’s a primal instinct, involuntarily rocking into his ramming in tandem. Your eyes squeeze shut from the pain of it, and yet you can’t stop.

“I can’t do it- I can’t do it, Spenc—ah!” you interrupt your own rebuke, your nails clawing into the purchase of the sheets as your spine goes limp. He doesn’t miss a beat, following you down to keep battering your soft tissue in just the right curl. Your tailbone has collapsed back onto the puddle of wetness, it’s cold to the touch, but you can’t even focus on how jarring the difference in temperature is right now.

You breathe like you’re readying for something, you pant like you’re in danger. Your chest rises and falls with rapid puffs of air, a sheen of sweat coating your skin—you can’t take this anymore.

Mesmerized, Spencer watches your poor pussy swallow his hand up. The wet squelching of leftover cream spatters out with every visceral plug, and his tongue forms over his upper lip to keep it busy. Your little clit calls out to him, he can feel it between his lips already. All soft and gooey, puffy and overstimulated, running between his spit-soaked lips as you scream from the two forces working together to make you cum. Not this time, he thinks, it’s not that kind of thing this time. His other hand grasps his cramping wrist, using it to cram into you faster, those three fingers forming a cone inside you to stroke the tips against the roof of you, and you cry out.

You reach for him, you try to grip anything you can, anything to get him to let up—to get him to stop. Mercy, you want. “You can, sweetheart, you can. I know it.” Sweat beads his forehead as he consoles you, letting you howl it out until he’s satisfied.

Miraculously, you manage to focus your efforts on one task. You lift your head, the prettiest and most pitiful upturn in your brows silently beckons him. It’s a silent request regardless of the noises whimpering out of your nose, you sound like a whining puppy while you make grabby hands at him. He knows what you want. Carefully, he adjusts so as to not upset the angle of his entry, but honoring your wish. Ignoring the burn of effort in his shoulder, he lays his head on your chest, and your legs suspended on either side of him bob from how hard he’s still fingering you. Your arms encase him, holding him close, clutching on for dear life as he finally tips you over that edge. There’s a change, the subtlest of tenses in your abdomen, like the tickle of pepper under a nose to attract a sneeze. You seize up, your cunt clenches down like a vice, and it idles. It’s the suspense at the top of a roller coaster.

“Oh, yeah… Oh, yeah, baby. That’s it. That’s it, uh-huh.” It’s a babble you can barely hear over the roaring in your ears, finally gushing out a hot spray. Your pussy becomes a fountain, squirting a mile high like you’ve been holding it in this whole time. It comes from deep within you, a secret stream only he can lovingly coax out. You had no idea there was anything even left in you, and yet Spencer’s patience can simply outlive your doubts, determined to wring every last drop out of you.

You can’t open your eyes, you can’t stop the earthquake in your legs, and your claws dig into his scalp. The noises you make are matched by him, groaning in maddened relief and joy at what he’s accomplished. It gets everywhere, drenching the front of his clothes as it pours down. The bed frame and the carpet and the furniture behind him are rained on, and there’s not a single thought in his mind of regret. Your abdomen flexes, pushing out every wave in pulses until it fizzles out. His hand slows, your breathing evens out, and your locked up body begins to relax muscle by muscle. He peels himself out of your hold, your limp limbs unable to put up any fight to keep him cuddled up on you. Lazily, your head lulls in his direction, eyes peering at him reverently stroke his palms over your puddle on the bed. All the releases he took from you perfectly layered on his navy blue sheets. His slack jaw encapsulates his awe at his handiwork, meeting your gaze with a brazen emotion nothing short of pride.

@HANASNX 2025 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal.

[solxamber]

Holding Them and Not Letting Go with: First Years

the rest will be in a separate post <3

Others: Housewardens + Jamil ; Vice housewardens + Rollo, Neige

Ace Trappola

Ace bounces into the room, still riding the high of his basketball victory. His grin is wide, and he’s practically glowing with confidence. “Alright, so are we going with Sprite or Coke for this exclusive VIP party?” he asks, digging through the mini fridge with exaggerated flair.

You don’t answer. Instead, you step closer and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a firm hug.

He freezes for a second before letting out a laugh, his tone teasing. “Wow, I didn’t realize winning a game made me this irresistible.” He turns his head to try and catch your expression, expecting a playful retort, but when you don’t let go or even laugh, his teasing fades.

“Hey,” he says more softly, twisting slightly to look at you. “You good?”

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, your hands still gripping his jersey. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, voice steady but warm. “I just… I love you, Ace. And I’m really, really proud of you.”

For a moment, he’s completely still, blinking at you like he can’t quite process your words. Then he lets out a shaky laugh, his arms coming up to pull you closer. “Don’t get all soft on me now,” he mutters, but there’s a tremor in his voice, and his hold on you is anything but casual.

Ace is the kind of guy who hides behind his jokes and bravado. He’s the loudest in the room, the one always cracking jokes to deflect attention from anything that might feel too serious or too vulnerable.

He plays it cool, like nothing ever really gets to him. But deep down, he’s always wondered if he’s enough—enough to be taken seriously, enough to make someone proud, enough to deserve the kind of unconditional love he’s always quietly craved.

Hearing you say those words, feeling the sincerity in your hug—it’s almost overwhelming. The teasing grin he wears so easily is replaced by something softer, something real.

He buries his face in your shoulder, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thanks,” he says, the single word carrying more weight than he usually lets on.

In your arms, Ace allows himself to feel it all—the pride, the love, the relief. He might joke about being irresistible or too cool for heartfelt moments, but the truth is, you make him feel like he doesn’t need to be anything other than himself. And that? That’s everything.

Deuce Spade

Deuce sits at his desk, the faint sound of pencil scratches and frustrated sighs filling the room. His brow is furrowed, and his leg bounces anxiously under the table. “Why can’t I get this?” he mutters, flipping through his notes for the hundredth time. “I should know this by now. I have to get this right.”

You watch him for a moment, heart aching at the stress etched into his face. He’s always trying so hard—pushing himself to be the perfect honor student, the model example. You know how much he wants to prove himself, but sometimes, he forgets that it’s okay to lean on others.

Without a word, you walk over and wrap your arms around him. At first, Deuce stiffens in surprise, but the tension melts away almost instantly as he leans into your embrace. “Hey,” he says softly, his voice a little shaky. “What’s this for?”

You don’t answer right away, just holding him tightly. His hands come up to rest on your arms, his grip firm, like he’s drawing strength from you. After a moment, though, he shifts slightly, craning his neck to look at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, concern lacing his voice. “You’ve been holding on for a while…”

You smile, shaking your head gently. “I’m fine. I just… I’m really proud of you, Deuce. I see how hard you work, how much you care about doing your best. I don’t think you hear it enough, but I’m proud of you.”

For a moment, he’s silent, his wide eyes searching yours like he’s trying to make sure you mean it. And then, without warning, he pulls you back into the hug, tighter this time, his arms wrapped around you like he never wants to let go.

Deuce has spent so much of his life trying to prove himself—to his mom, to his teachers, to his classmates. He worries constantly about whether he’s good enough, whether he’ll ever live up to the expectations he’s set for himself. Deep down, there’s a part of him that fears he’ll always be that hotheaded troublemaker he used to be, no matter how hard he tries to change.

But in your arms, all of that seems to fade. When you tell him you’re proud of him, it feels like a gift he doesn’t quite deserve, but one he’s so grateful for that it hurts. He doesn’t feel like he has to pretend to be perfect or have it all figured out—not with you.

“You’re… you’re the best,” he mumbles into your shoulder, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

To Deuce, you’re like a miracle—a gift from the Sevens themselves. Someone who sees him for who he is and believes in him even when he’s struggling to believe in himself. And as he holds you close, he silently vows to keep doing his best—not just for himself, but for you, too.

Jack Howl

Jack sets the heavy crate down with ease, brushing his hands on his pants before glancing at you. “Alright, that’s the last one,” he says, his voice steady and sure. “You didn’t have to lift a finger. Told you I’d handle it.”

You smile at him, watching as he dusts himself off, the faintest sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. Jack always insists on doing the hard work, carrying the weight—literally and figuratively. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t ask for help, just powers through with quiet determination.

Before he can turn back to the next task, you step forward and wrap your arms around him. He stiffens slightly, caught off guard, but then his arms come up to hold you in return.

“What’s this for?” he asks, his voice soft but curious.

You don’t answer right away, simply holding him tighter. Jack stays quiet, but you can feel his tail wagging behind him, a faint swish against the ground. When you don’t let go, though, he starts to shift slightly, pulling back just enough to look at you.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, concern evident in his tone. His ears flick nervously, his golden eyes scanning your face.

You smile up at him, shaking your head lightly. “I’m fine, Jack. I just… I just love you, and I’m really glad to have you in my life. You’re always looking out for me, always working so hard. I don’t think I say it enough, but I really appreciate you.”

For a moment, Jack just looks at you, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he pulls you back into the hug, his grip firm and grounding. He doesn’t say anything, but his tail betrays him, wagging faster now, practically spinning like a motor.

Jack isn’t used to hearing things like that. He’s always been the dependable one, the one people rely on but rarely the one people go out of their way to thank. There’s a part of him that wonders if he’s only valued for his strength, for what he can do rather than who he is. It’s a quiet insecurity, one he keeps buried deep, but it’s there all the same.

But when you hold him like this, when you tell him how much he means to you, it feels like a weight has been lifted. You don’t just see him as the reliable guy who carries the heavy stuff or takes care of the hard work. You see him—Jack, with all his flaws and strengths, and you love him anyway.

His tail thumps against the ground now, a silent giveaway to how much your words mean to him. He doesn’t need to say anything; the way he holds you, the way his tail wags furiously, tells you everything.

In your arms, Jack feels something he’s not sure he’s ever felt before—completely understood and appreciated for who he is, not just what he can do. And for him, that’s more than enough.

Epel Felmier

The two of you were walking back to Ramshackle, Epel chatting animatedly about something funny that had happened during class. His hands were moving as he spoke, when a sudden whistling sound cut through the air.

You didn’t even have time to react before Epel’s hand shot out, summoning a precise burst of magic that sent the incoming magift disc flying back in the direction it came. It hit its mark with a loud clang before tumbling harmlessly to the ground.

“Idiots need to watch where they’re aiming,” he muttered, brushing it off like it was nothing. Then, without missing a beat, he reached for your hand, his grip firm yet casual as he led you back toward your dorm.

The moment you stepped inside, you turned to him, your arms wrapping around him tightly. He let out a small, surprised “Whoa,” his hands instinctively coming up to hold you back.

“Hey, what’s this for?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and a bit of embarrassment. He hugged you back anyway, his fingers lightly rubbing your back, but when you didn’t pull away, his expression shifted to concern.

“You alright?” he asked, leaning back just enough to look at your face. “Did that disc scare ya? I didn’t think—”

“I’m fine,” you interrupted softly, squeezing him tighter. “I just love you, Epel. And that was so cool. You were so quick, and you didn’t even hesitate. I’m… I’m really lucky to have you.”

Epel blinked, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to process your words. Then, as your words sank in, his cheeks flushed a deep pink, and his lips curled into a small, bashful smile.

“You think… I’m cool?” he asked, his voice almost timid, as if he didn’t quite believe it.

“I know you are,” you said, your tone firm and sincere.

Something in him seemed to shift at that. Epel pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly now, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder.

He’d spent so much of his life feeling like he had to prove himself—to his family, to his classmates, even to himself. Being underestimated because of his height or his face had always left a bitter taste in his mouth, pushing him to work harder, fight stronger, and shout louder just to be taken seriously.

But in this moment, none of that mattered. You didn’t see him as fragile or weak, didn’t treat him like someone who needed to prove anything. You saw him for who he was, and you loved him for it.

The warmth in his chest spread to his face as he buried it against your neck, his arms tightening just a little more. He didn’t say anything for a moment, letting the silence speak for him.

When he finally did speak, his voice was quiet but steady. “I’m lucky to have you too, y’know. More’n I deserve.”

You smiled, holding him just as tightly, letting your presence remind him that he was already more than enough. For the first time in a long time, Epel felt like he didn’t need to prove a thing. You thought he was cool, and that was all he needed to hear.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek was mid-sentence, his voice rising in animated fervor.

“And that’s why this tale of heroism directly correlates to Lord Malleus's own virtues! Truly, how could anyone miss the resemblance? Why, if they merely paid attention—”

You didn’t let him finish. Stepping forward, you wrapped your arms around him tightly, pressing your cheek against his chest.

Sebek froze instantly, the words dying in his throat. “Wha—? What are you doing?!” His voice pitched higher, equal parts flustered and confused.

His arms hovered awkwardly for a moment before he tentatively settled them around you, his usual composure crumbling. “Are you hurt? Is something wrong? Speak to me at once!”

When you didn’t respond immediately, Sebek’s grip tightened slightly, and he pulled back just enough to inspect you, his eyes scanning your face with concern. “What has happened? Are you unwell?”

You smiled softly at him, your fingers curling into his uniform as you leaned back into his chest. “I’m fine, Sebek. Really. I just love you.”

Sebek blinked, his mouth opening and closing as your words sank in. He seemed at a rare loss for words as you continued, “I love how passionate you are, how much you care about the things and people you love. It makes me love you even more.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his lips pressed together tightly. Then, without warning, he hugged you back gently, yet firmly, his arms encircling you as though he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go.

“...I see,” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual.

Sebek had spent so much of his life trying to live up to expectations—his own, his family’s, even the ones he imagined Malleus might have for him. He had always been painfully aware of his mixed heritage and the silent whispers it inspired, of the way his fiery temper and unwavering loyalty often set him apart from others.

Yet with you, none of that seemed to matter. You didn’t judge him for his intensity or his quirks; you embraced them, cherished them, even. And in moments like this, when he felt your arms around him and heard your steady words of love, he was reminded that he didn’t need to prove himself to you.

You saw him—not just as a knight or a servant, but as Sebek.

“I…” His voice wavered for a moment before he steadied it. “I love you as well.”

The words were simple, but the way his arms tightened around you spoke volumes. For all his loud proclamations and larger-than-life demeanor, Sebek’s love was quiet and steadfast, an anchor that held firm against any storm.

And as he rested his chin atop your head, silently committing this moment to memory, he realized something: as long as he had you, everything else seemed just a little less important.

Masterlist

[lxvsiick]

CALLING ON MY ANGEL | PARK SUNGHOON X READER

PAIRING: troublemaker! park sunghoon x good girl! fem! reader

SUMMARY: She was a sweet angel in his world of darkness.

GENRE: imagine, grumpy x sunshine?

WORDCOUNT: 3.3k

A/N: honestly, i don't know what was going on in my head when i wrote this -- but chase atlantic and enhypen just go together so well ,, anyways this is a story/imagine inspired by the song ANGELS by Chase Atlantic! Enjoy!

It was late, and the streetlights flickered dimly, casting long shadows across the pavement as Y/n made her way home from her shift at the convenience store. Her steps were light, but exhaustion weighed her down. The night air was crisp, the silence only broken by the occasional car passing by.

As she turned the corner, a group of guys about her age noticed her. Their voices lowered to murmurs, and then, as if on cue, they called out to her.

"Hey, pretty lady, what’s the rush?" one of them asked, his tone slimy and casual.

Y/n tensed immediately, her heart racing as they approached her, their confidence unnerving. They surrounded her, blocking her path, their grins widening as they tried to engage her with flirty remarks that only made her skin crawl.

"Come on, stay and chat for a bit," another one urged, his voice dropping in what he likely thought was a charming way.

"I... I really need to go," she stammered, trying to sound firm but unable to hide the tremor in her voice. Her eyes darted around, looking for an escape, but the street was empty.

The guys chuckled, sensing her discomfort and ignoring her quiet rejection. One of them stepped even closer, his hand grazing her arm, making her shrink back in fear. Just as panic started to rise in her chest, a figure appeared on the sidewalk, heading in their direction.

Sunghoon walked toward them, his head down, the hood of his black hoodie pulled low over his face. Without slowing his pace, he bumped into one of the guys, shoulder to shoulder, knocking him slightly off balance.

"Hey, watch it!" the guy barked, turning aggressively. But when he saw Sunghoon’s face, he froze. The cut on his cheek was still fresh, and the bruise beneath his eye only added to the dark, dangerous aura he carried. His expression was cold, unreadable, and his reputation preceded him.

"Wait... that’s him," one of the other guys muttered in panic, recognition flashing across his face. Sunghoon and his group were well-known around campus—troublemakers you didn’t mess with unless you had a death wish.

The tension in the air shifted immediately. Without another word, the group of guys glanced at each other nervously and started to back off, retreating with hasty steps as they muttered excuses under their breath. They quickly disappeared down the street, their bravado shattered.

For a moment, Y/n stood frozen in place, her heart still pounding. Then, she let out a shaky breath, relief flooding her as she turned to face her unexpected savior.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet night.

Sunghoon didn’t respond. He merely continued walking, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie, his face obscured beneath the hood. But there was something about his presence that eased her fear. Without thinking, she began to follow him.

He didn’t look back, but after a few steps, his pace slowed, just enough for her to catch up. They walked side by side in silence, the tension of the moment gradually fading away. The comfort of his silent protection was enough to keep her calm as they walked through the empty streets, heading in the same direction.

Though no words were spoken, the quiet connection between them felt stronger than any conversation they could have had.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

Y/n strolled down the school hallway, a bounce in her step and a smile on her face. In each hand, she held a can of soda, one of them a free gift from the vending machine that had decided to be generous today. The students who passed by greeted her with warm smiles and waves, and she returned them just as brightly. Known for her kind heart and friendly demeanor, she was one of those people everyone gravitated toward.

As she approached the quieter end of the hall, where the lights dimmed slightly and fewer students wandered, a faint groan reached her ears. She slowed her pace, her smile fading as curiosity took over. Her eyes scanned the area, searching for the source of the sound.

Then she spotted him—Sunghoon, slumped against the wall, half-hidden in the shadowed corner of the hallway. His head rested back, eyes shut, a pained expression on his face. He looked like he had just come out of a brawl, the bruises on his face making it clear that he hadn’t come out unscathed.

Letting out a quiet gasp, she hurried over to him, crouching down beside him. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, concern lacing her voice.

Sunghoon groaned again, wincing as he tried to shift slightly. “Go away,” he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice rough and tired.

Y/n didn’t budge. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing as she studied his battered face. Then, as if a lightbulb flicked on in her mind, an idea popped into her head. Without a word, she grabbed the extra can of soda from her hand and gently pressed it against his bruised cheek.

He winced at the cold metal against his skin, eyes flying open in surprise. “What the—” he started, only to stop short when he saw her sitting there, looking at him with that same concerned expression.

“Use it,” she said, offering him a small smile. “And you really should stop getting into so many fights.”

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. His usual tough exterior seemed to falter as he stared at her, completely caught off guard. She looked so calm, so kind, her face glowing in the soft light filtering into the hallway. In his dazed state, she looked almost angelic—like someone who didn’t belong in the world of trouble and chaos he often found himself in.

She seemed to notice him staring and a faint blush crept up her cheeks. Flustered, she quickly stood up, brushing imaginary dust off her skirt. “Anyway, um, I’ve got to go,” she stammered, taking a step back. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

Before he could respond, she turned and hurried off down the hall, leaving him behind, still holding the can of soda against his cheek. He watched her retreating figure, the echo of her footsteps fading into the distance.

As he sat there, her words and that small act of kindness played over in his mind. A strange warmth filled his chest—a feeling he wasn’t used to.

For the first time in a while, Sunghoon wasn’t sure what to make of it.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

Y/n stood behind the counter of the convenience store, her fingers idly tapping against the scanner as the hum of fluorescent lights filled the quiet air. It was a slow night—until the bell above the door jingled, announcing a loud group entering the store. Her gaze lifted, recognizing Sunghoon and his six friends immediately. They were laughing and talking, their voices filling the otherwise calm atmosphere.

She couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight of him. When his eyes finally met hers from across the store, she gave him a small, friendly wave. But instead of a smile in return, he only nodded coolly before turning his attention back to his friends.

She swallowed, her smile faltering as she watched him walk over to join his group, who were busy picking out snacks and drinks from the aisles. Despite the brief, almost indifferent interaction, she found herself glancing over at him every now and then, wondering what was going through his mind.

A few minutes later, his friends approached the register, arms full of snacks and drinks, still chattering away. She straightened up, putting on her professional face as they piled their items onto the counter.

“That’ll be $19,851 wons,” she said after scanning everything.

Jake shot her a mischievous grin. “Oh, don’t worry, Sunghoon is paying,” he said with a wink. Before she could react, the whole group hurried out of the store, leaving her standing there, blinking in surprise.

Moments later, Sunghoon appeared at the counter, his usual stoic expression in place. He handed her his card without a word.

Her hands felt a little shaky as she took it, swiping it through the machine. The silence between them felt heavy, almost awkward. She could feel her heart beating faster, though she couldn’t quite figure out why. As she handed his card back, Sunghoon spoke up, “So... when does your shift end?”

His question caught her off guard, and she almost fumbled with his card in surprise. “Uh, it ends later tonight,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady as she handed him back his card.

He nodded, the silence between them settling again as she finished ringing him up. When the receipt printed, he took it without a word and left, the bell above the door jingling once more as he disappeared into the night.

The rest of her shift passed uneventfully, but Sunghoon’s brief question kept playing over in her mind. She wasn’t sure why, but it left her feeling unsettled, a strange mix of anticipation and confusion curling in her chest.

As she finally closed up for the night, locking the door behind her, she stepped outside, breathing in the cool night air. But before she could take another step, her eyes caught sight of a familiar figure leaning against the wall near the store—Sunghoon.

Surprise flickered across her face. “You waited for me?” she asked, her voice soft with disbelief.

He pushed himself off the wall, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Figured I’d walk you home,” he said simply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips, warmth spreading in her chest. “Thanks,” she murmured, falling into step beside him as they began the familiar walk home together. Neither of them spoke much, but the quiet between them felt comfortable, different from the silence at the store. This time, it wasn’t awkward—just... them.

And for the first time that night, she felt a strange sense of calm, knowing he was there.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

Sunghoon walked through the crowded halls of the school, his usual scowl firmly in place. The sound of shuffling feet and murmured conversations surrounded him, but none of the students dared meet his gaze as they passed by. Some even went as far as to move out of his way, heads down, whispering under their breath like he was a storm to avoid.

He was used to it by now—being the "troublemaker" on campus had that effect. But today, the weight of the stares seemed heavier than usual.

As he reached the lockers near the entrance, his ears caught the sound of a hushed conversation nearby. The voices weren’t meant to be overheard, but they were just loud enough for him to pick up bits and pieces.

“...Have you heard? Y/n’s been hanging around with him.”

“I know, right? She’s way too nice for someone like him. He’s bad news...”

“She doesn’t deserve that. What if he rubs off on her?”

Sunghoon stopped in his tracks, his jaw tightening as he listened. They didn’t even try to hide their judgment.

“She’s sweet. She shouldn’t be mixed up with a guy like him,” another voice chimed in.

His hand clenched into a fist by his side, but he resisted the urge to turn around and confront them. What would be the point? People had always made assumptions about him, and it seemed like no matter what he did, that wasn’t going to change. But now, it wasn’t just about him—it was about her. And that made something burn in his chest.

Letting out a huff of frustration, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, turning on his heel to walk out of the building. His footsteps echoed loudly against the floor as he pushed through the double doors, his mind racing with the words he had just overheard.

They think I’m bad for her? The thought gnawed at him. Part of him wanted to ignore it, brush it off like he always did. But this time was different. This time, it bothered him more than he cared to admit.

Because, despite his reputation and the way others looked at him, he cared about Y/n. And the last thing he wanted was for her to be caught in the crossfire of people’s judgments because of him. He clenched his jaw, replaying the whispers in his mind.

They don’t know her. They don’t know me.

With a heavy sigh, he stepped outside, feeling the cool air hit his face. He pulled the hood of his black hoodie over his head, trying to shake off the frustration that clung to him. The more he thought about it, the more their words stung, even though he didn’t want them to.

His pace quickened as he made his way down the steps, his thoughts clouded with doubt. He didn’t want to drag her down, but he also didn’t want to push her away. After all, they had gotten close in the past few weeks. For the first time in a long while, he had someone who saw him as more than just his reputation. Someone who didn’t flinch when she saw him, who wasn’t afraid to be around him.

But if staying close to her meant she’d have to deal with all the rumors and whispers... what then?

With his hands still deep in his pockets, he walked out of the school and into the garden, unsure of what he was supposed to do next. All he knew was that the idea of losing her, even as just a friend, felt worse than anything those students could ever say.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

Y/n strolled through the school’s garden, enjoying the calm of the late afternoon. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a warm glow on the path. As she rounded a corner, her eyes landed on a familiar figure standing by the old wooden bench. It was Sunghoon, and something about his posture caught her attention.

Her steps slowed as she approached, a frown forming on her face. The closer she got, the more she could see the new cuts and bruises marring his face. It was clear he had been in some sort of altercation recently, and the sight made her heart sink.

"Hey," she called out softly, trying to keep her voice steady. "Are you okay?"

Sunghoon didn’t turn to face her, his shoulders tense. He muttered, "I’m fine. Just go away."

The dismissiveness in his tone stung. Y/n hesitated for a moment, her worry overriding her instinct to back off. She stepped closer, her eyes searching his face. "You don’t look fine. What happened?"

He turned his head slightly, just enough to show his irritation. "I said I’m fine. It’s nothing."

The Y/n’s concern deepened, her eyes softening with empathy. She reached out a tentative hand, but he shrugged it off, a frustrated edge to his movements.

"Stop asking," he snapped, his voice harsh. "I don’t need you to worry about me."

The words were like a slap in the face. Y/n felt a mix of confusion and hurt. Why was he pushing her away like this? She couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t let her help, why he was so determined to shut her out.

"Please," she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper now. "Let me help."

But he was already turning away, storming off down the path with a heavy, deliberate pace. The back of his hoodie was the only thing she could see as he walked away, the anger and frustration radiating from his form.

Y/n stood there, rooted to the spot. The tranquil garden seemed to mock her as she watched him go. The gentle rustling of leaves felt distant, and the beauty of the afternoon was lost on her. Her heart ached, both for him and for the rift that was growing between them.

She wanted to chase after him, to bridge the gap he was so determined to create, but something held her back. She felt helpless and confused, the worry for him battling with the sting of his rejection. All she could do was watch as he disappeared into the distance, leaving her standing there with a sinking feeling in her chest.

She sighed heavily, her emotions a tangled mess. As the garden’s serenity settled back around her, she finally turned and walked away, her steps slow and heavy, her mind racing with unanswered questions.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

The clock on Y/n's bedside table ticked softly as she lay sprawled on her bed, scrolling through her phone. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of her bedside lamp, creating a cozy, almost ethereal atmosphere. Her thumb paused over the screen as a new message notification popped up.

Curious, she tapped on the message from Sunghoon: 

"Can we meet at the park? I need to talk to you."

She hesitated for a moment, a flicker of worry crossing her face. Despite the late hour, something about the message made her heart race. Quickly, she threw on a white cardigan over her pajamas, the light fabric falling gracefully as she shrugged it on. Taking a deep breath, she headed out into the cool night air.

The park was a short walk away, and the streets were quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves. As she arrived, the park’s lone streetlamp cast a warm, golden glow over the pathway. Her eyes searched the area until they landed on Sunghoon, who was standing by the old wooden bench. The lamp illuminated his face, and he looked up as she approached.

The sight of her, framed by the soft light of the streetlamp, took his breath away. The white cardigan contrasted with her long, dark hair, giving her an almost angelic appearance. His heart ached as he saw her—beautiful, serene, and entirely too good for the mess he felt he had become.

When she reached him, he didn't say a word. Instead, he closed the distance between them and pulled her into a tight hug. The embrace was warm and comforting, and Y/n hesitated only for a moment before wrapping her arms around him in return.

"What's going on?" she asked softly, her voice muffled by his shoulder. "Why did you want to see me?"

Sunghoon buried his face in her hair, his voice barely audible as he mumbled, "I just... I needed to see you. I’m sorry for how I acted the other day. I was wrong to push you away."

The sincerity in his voice made her heart ache. She could feel the tension in his body, the regret in his touch. She held him a little tighter, her own feelings swirling—relief, concern, and an overwhelming sense of compassion.

"Why didn't you just tell me what was going on?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

He sighed, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. The shadows of the night danced across his face, but the vulnerability in his gaze was unmistakable. "I didn’t want to drag you into my problems. I thought it would be better if I handled it alone."

Y/n shook her head, her eyes filled with empathy. "You don’t have to go through things alone. I’m here for you, no matter what."

A faint smile touched his lips, a glimmer of hope breaking through his troubled expression. "I know now. I should have known better."

They stood there for a moment, the silence between them filled with unspoken words and emotions. The cool night air seemed to hold its breath as they embraced again, the world outside fading away.

"Thank you for coming," he said softly, his voice a gentle murmur.

She smiled up at him, her heart lighter despite the heavy conversation. "I’ll always come when you need me."

As they stood together under the streetlamp’s warm glow, it felt as though the night had woven a fragile thread of understanding and connection between them—one that would help mend the rift that had formed.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

PART TWO | YOU CAME TO ME, MY ANGEL

MASTERLIST

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, lxvsiick, 2024

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon, yandere, kidnapped reader, murder of nameless side characters

♡ fem reader

Thinking about that moment of violent change you’re forced to go through when your loving boyfriend becomes the terrifying man you don’t recognize—and how it completely eradicates the reality you’d grown so comfortable in, realizing it was all some perfectly orchestrated lie.

Rope burns on your wrists and ankles, tears streaking your chunky cheeks, and a poor soul’s blood on your pretty face belonging to some guy who’d gotten a little too close for comfort.

He’d cut him down like it was nothing.

The knife is held still by his side, a shining red murder weapon, dripping on the floor in the growing pond by his feet. He sighs heavily, casts his head back then looks behind him, beholding you through slim eyes, clicking his tongue, “Look what you made me do…”

He wouldn’t be the only one… several victims followed in his bloody path—witnesses who’d seen him struggle with you, kicking and screaming for all your worth, trying anything to get away. You were all too easily manhandled into the car, and could only watch behind the locked door, banging with bound fists on the glass while he gutted other passersby who’d threatened to call the police.

Driving off, he growls at you, first to shut up and then, “That was your fault—if only you’d been a good girl, none of those innocent people would have had to die.” His knuckles whiten on the wheel, wringing it in his stained grip—scarlet on ivory. “If you don’t want any more blood on your hands, you better sit pretty and not cause me any more trouble.”

You sob uncontrollably and inconsolably despite the threat—you can’t stop yourself—you can’t even comprehend his words. None of it makes any sense. You’d seen it all, and yet you can’t understand it—any of it. You’d watched the sweet guy you knew shed his skin and become a monster right before your eyes. It must be some bad dream, some terrible, awful, horrible nightmare.

But even if it is, you don’t want him touching you ever again. It makes you physically sick to your stomach to think you’d ever shared a bed with him—exchanged sweet nothings in the damp heat of each other. No, no, no, it’s not the same person—it can’t be. It can’t be true. What about the smiles you’d shared over breakfast, those times you’d surprised each other at lunch, all the dates, all the gifts, all the kisses, the future you’d talked about?

You’d fallen in love. But you’ve fallen in love with someone who doesn’t even exist.

He makes sure the door to the bedroom’s under lock and a key he stores somewhere you won’t find it. You squirm in your bonds on the bed when he approaches, shivering with whimpers under his hands, flinching at his touch while he unties you, then cringing as he angles your face to look at him—wanting to pry free, anything not to look into those changed eyes.

You hadn’t thought his build was imposing before, it hadn’t struck you as lethal. Naively, you’d thought him cozy—a big chest and a warm embrace he would scoop you up in, a safe place you could live. He’s cold now, menacing and filthy from his crimes—the body of a killer, a cold-blooded murderer. He’s so big it makes the room feel too small for the both of you. Claustrophobic.

He forces your gaze to him, and it’s all you see, those eyes, those unrecognizable eyes, with that look within you can’t understand, beholding you with burden.

“I still love you,” he states, though it angers him. “Even though you broke my heart. I still love you.”

You shake your head, or you try to, but it results in only tiny tremors caught in his hand where he keeps your chin, bloody fingers buried in your plump cheeks, squeezing so hard you wince.

“But it doesn’t come for free,” he seethes with an awful sneer. A type of grimace you’d never thought him capable of, overfilled with disdain. “My love is earned. And after all you did today, you’re in deep debt.”

He lets go of your face with a nasty shove, taking a mean grip on your shirt instead, using both fists to tear it down the middle. You yelp and cover yourself, but that only angers him further—causing him to grab your wrists and pin them to your side. You think you feel your joints popping.

“Test me, and I’ll hurt you,” he growls, his teeth bared at your ear where your face curls to hide itself in the pillow. “I don’t want to, but if that’s what it takes to make you sorry, then so be it. Be good, and I won’t have to take it that far.”

You lie as still as you can muster while he removes the rest—roughly as he goes—your bra, your skirt, your underwear. You only snivel and toil with the sheets in weak little fists, making your joints cramp up—feeling raw under him, at the mercy of those blood-dried hands.

You understand what he’s about to do, and yet it doesn’t really dawn on you before you hear the sharp ringing of his belt buckle being undone. You don’t look, but you don’t close your eyes either—the room is already dark enough that closing your eyes would make you feel too close to death. So, you keep your gaze fixed to the side, to the stale wall.

The bed bounces you as he shuffles. The urge to run bubbles within, but you know it wouldn’t be to your advantage. So your mind spins, thinking of other possibilities, growing ever more panicked when coming up empty.

He spits on your slit, then rears it with his spitefully erect shaft—pushing in without further prep. And you lose all sense of control.

Twisting at the attack, you scream again, “No! Stop—”

Your hands barely touch him before he’s answered the protest with a tightening grip on your neck. Unrelenting, your throat instantly snares, and you choke on any further outburst.

“I told you,” he chastises. “Why do you have to force my hand, huh?”

You gasp for any sliver worth of air, sipping through the cracks of his chokehold, but it’s very nearly sealed completely shut. You try lifting his grip with your own, both hands holding onto his wrist, wanting to pull loose but achieving nothing.

It’s so pitiful that he ignores the effort. Using his remaining hand to continue what he’d set out to do. Planting his tip at your unprepped entrance, he wasted no time before surging forward.

Your vision starts to spot, and your hands grow weak, barely hanging on.

“That’s good. Lie still and take it,” he groans—his lips on your cheek as he bullies through your dry walls, only aided by his spit. “And I might consider once’ enough.”  

You don’t have a choice, feeling your body go numb. He picks your thigh up over his hip and drives deeper—starting a steady pace without letting go of your throat, squeezing the life out of you. Your hands finally drop, lying limp, and still, you feel it deep within—the thrusting as he beats your sorry cunt into an aching mess, then fills you up with awful warmth.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks ♡ JJK – Nanami, Geto, Naoya

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[gloomwitchwrites]

Their child calls their emergency line (Dad fluff)

Anon! This idea is so so cute! Don't mind me, I'm just giggling like an idiot over here. I adore imagining these guys as dads, and this prompt is completely indulging me. Thank you so much for sending this in! I had a lot of fun with this one. Enjoy!!

Presented in four drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Content & Warnings: brief swearing, mostly fluff

Word Count: 400

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He ignores it. And the phones goes off again.

While Price, Gaz, and Soap all continue their conversation, Simon takes his phone out of his pocket and walks a few paces away.

He glances at the screen and sees his youngest daughter’s name on the screen. It’s their emergency line. Simon answers immediately and brings the phone up to his ear.

“Everything good, baby girl?”

“Can you help me with my math homework?”

Simon sighs. “So there isn’t an emergency?”

“Yes. The emergency is my math homework,” she replies plainly.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny is working late. Really fucking late. He promised Price he’d look at the reports before they’re sent off in the morning. Details are important. Things can’t be overlooked.

His phone buzzes on the desk.

“Hello?” he answers without looking at the name.

“Daddy?”

Johnny immediately straightens, the reports forgotten. It’s his eldest daughter.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

She pauses. “Can you come pick me up?”

Johnny is already out of his chair and grabbing his coat before his daughter finishes the sentence.

“Where are you?”

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs.

“Don’t worry about it, love. Tell me where you are.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Daddy?”

“What is it, baby girl?”

Kyle straightens at the slight tremor in his daughter’s tone. She rarely—if ever—calls him at work. And she knows it’s for emergency purposes only.

“Everything all right?” he asks after a beat.

She sighs. “Could—I—”

“What’s wrong?” he prompts, suddenly nervous.

“Are you leaving work soon?”

Kyle checks his watch. “In about an hour. What do you need?” His daughter mumbles something on the other end. “What’s that, love?”

“Can you grab tampons?” she asks in a rush.

Kyle holds back a laugh. Everything is fine.

“Of course, baby girl.”

John Price

John pinches the bridge of his nose. The file folder before him is just a blur of color.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. John fishes it out. Home, it says.

Frowning, he answers. “Hello?”

“Daddy?”

It’s his youngest, a boy of only six. “Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t want mum to hear me.”

“Why?”

“I want to surprise her.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“Can you get her a gift?”

“Of course, bud. I’ll grab something on the way home.”

“Thank you!” he shrieks, hanging up abruptly.

John snorts and stares down at the blank screen, shaking his head.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@taysarchive @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @vrb8im

[drgnflyteabox]

18+mdni, best friends younger brother!johnny comes back from deployment and corners you in her living room, gross dirty talk, super dubcon, reader says "don't" but johnny does, fingering, cross swinging on his hairy chest, a bit of humiliation, "little" used affectionately (and grossly) not as a size indicator, random pet names

“Yer such a pretty little girl,” Johnny breathes. He's sick, so sick. Your stomach tightens and flips as he drags his fingers over your bare thighs. You don’t stop him.

“So soft,” he murmurs against your neck. “Aren't ye?”

An uncontrollable tremor starts in you, building from your belly. You gasp when he reaches your panties, legs frozen, like they’re unsure of whether to open or close.

Johnny's always been dirty and weird, inappropriate and pushy. The kind of guy that takes eye contact as an invitation to start acting like a dog. It's only now that he's got you alone, hand up your skirt, that you realize all of Maisie’s warnings were really serious.

Those intense eyes burn into the side of your face, watching every little micromovement you make as he rubs your clit through the fabric of your panties. You're hot in the face, embarrassed, unsure. You think of Maisie walking back in the front door, of her parents, of anybody seeing you this way.

“Ah can see yer thinkin’,” Johnny says. His fingers pull the damp gusset aside and finally touch wetness.

“Maybe we should stop,” you rush out. Your breath is coming heavy, now. Labored. You're trembling worse, hand coming up to squeeze Johnny's shirt in your fist.

“Shh, it's fine,” he says. “Yer a good little girl, aren't ye? Be good.”

“I’m older than you,” you laugh, shifting your hips, squirming.

Johnny grins and leans in to suck your earlobe, puffing hot breaths against your jaw. The rough pads of his fingers pull the hood of your clit up, then press down onto your vulnerable clit.

You suck in a breath, jerking upwards, running from the intensity of the feeling. Blood rushes in your ears, a high keening sound cutting through the air, rising from your throat.

“Oh, God, don’t do it like that–”

But he continues, climbing bodily into your lap to hold your hips down. God, he’s fucking heavy. He shoves his hand fully into your panties, leaning over you. Rubs without mercy.

You shout, struggling a little, breath caught in your throat.

“S’alright, pretty girl,” he grunts. He pulls his hand out only for a moment to pull his shirt off, reaching right back down as your mouth opens and closes helplessly.

“Maisie–”

“Isnae gonnae be back fer another half hour,” he cuts you off, curling two fingers into your hole. It’s too much, too much, too much, but you arch your back and whine.

Your vision gets hazy, stuck under him, so close you can smell his musk and his shitty cologne. His chest, bare, hairy, takes second place to the cross swinging in your face as he stuffs his fingers in and out clumsily.

He growls over you, using his other hand to grab yours and grinding into it. You’re loose, useless, gasping and sighing, muscles jellified.

The cross stares you down, but it only serves to make your cunt even tighter on his fingers. Squeezing. You stare at it, then past it, at his fat pecs.

“Makin’ a mess of ye, honeypie,” he licks your cheek, tongue close enough to your eye that you flinch, pushing his chest and shoulders close enough that you feel boxed in. You can’t move, can’t hump his fingers desperately like you want to.

Your cheek is wet with his spit, drying cold.

“That’s right, honeypie, ye gonnae come fer me?”

He uses your hand like a toy, grinding hard into it, groaning. His pace is messy, staccato rhythm making your wrist sore with the force of it.

“Gimme it,” he pants.

You start to come, trapped and crushed and face falling forward into the warmth of him, shaking though your legs are trapped by his bulk. Johnny notices, grunting words you can’t hear into your ear, pressing impossibly closer, and following suit.

When you slump, shivering with the aftershocks, Johnny sits back on your lap and pulls his fingers out of you. He puts them in his own pants, into his own mess, and brings his hand up to your mouth.

“Show me yer tongue,” he says, voice still thick.

You frown, scrunching your face, turning away.

“Maisie–”

“Sh,” he cuts you off. “Open yer mouth, show me yer tongue.”

“Gross–”

When you don’t, he squeezes your jaw until you open your mouth, tongue out.

He rubs the mix of you both on his tongue, all four fingers stuffing your mouth, making you cough and choke.

“Better get cleaned up,” he laughs when he’s done, sliding back onto the couch with the attitude of a lazy cat. “Maisie's gonnae be back any second now, honeypie."

[secondsistershelby3]

WILL THEY KNOW?

Pairing : Young!Silco x Felicia’s sister!reader

Summary : Your sister was so cheerful, confident and sometimes sarcastic, sometimes you even felt inferior but she didn't want to make you feel that way and you knew it. The biggest problem is that you had a crush on one of his friends, Silco.

Warnings : !LIGHT SPOILER S2!, smut, 18+, semi-public sex (I know I'm a whore), getting caught in the act, Vander's balcony takeover (oops), fluff

Notes : I'm a whore for Silco, it’s stronger than me

"But why do I have to come?" You asked boredly as your sister dragged you through the streets of Zaun "because I want you to come too, period" Felicia replied with a neutral look and continued to look forward

You snorted even louder since he wasn't about to let go of your wrist, it's not that you didn't like going to The Last Drop, on the contrary, Vander was very nice, he almost seemed like a father, a father figure. The problem was Silco, every time you had him next to you in your belly you started to have a thousand butterflies in your stomach, you started to burn and almost stammer and you couldn't think straight anymore.

"and Connor?! He wasn't available?" I asked, still whining like a little girl. Felicia didn't answer for almost ten seconds and then she spoke "no" she wasn't bold but almost cautious.

"ooohhhh that sucks" less than two minutes later you were at the entrance to The Last Drop

"Good evening guys" Felicia exclaimed with her arms in the air, like a theatrical entrance. You on the other hand entered with a more awkward walk and a face somewhere between angry and insecure. "Look who's here again," Vander said with a smile as he cleaned a glass. Silco, on the other hand, only turned to look at Felicia and made a single nod.

You were hiding behind her and probably neither of them had noticed you yet. Felicia looked behind her to look at you and smiled "Look who I brought" she moved and still in a theatrical way pointed at you with both arms. Vander smiled looking at you "hey little girl, long time no see" he said it in a cheerful tone, as if to replace an 'I missed you'

"yeah, but I don't really like going out" I said it in a slightly shy tone, you weren't very good at conversations, but you tried to do your best. Silco stood there looking at you with his mouth half open and his cup in his hand, until Vander gave him a light push "um...it's nice to see you again" he pronounced your name in such a suave way, pronounced by him it was as if it were gold to sell

"Come on, come and sit down" Vander invited. You headed towards the desk and took a seat next to Silco, as soon as he looked at you you smiled and he smiled back almost spontaneously.

When you turned around, you didn't see Felicia sitting next to you, you moved your gaze to look for her and saw her in front of the jukebox "what are you doing?" You asked but he didn't answer. Suddenly 'Our Love' rang out in the room.

"What is the occasion?" Vander asked. “Can't a woman want to listen to a song?” Felicia asked moving her hips a little to the rhythm Vander laughed "not this woman and not this song" in the meantime he put away the glass he was cleaning

As the song rang in your ears, you turned to watch Silco write in his notebook, his locks coming out of his ponytail, hanging in his face. You felt that feeling of butterflies, tremors creeping up your whole body. The feeling overwhelmed you so much that you didn't realize you had been watching Silco for a while.

"Do I have something on my face?" Silco asked sarcastically, looking at you with a smirk "I- no no you're fine, I mean not that you're never fine, you're always fine obviously-" Silco's giggle stopped you from babbling "I got the message, girl" you remained with your mouth half open as you watched him go back to writing with a smile on your face.

Your half-open mouth turned into a closed-mouthed smile. What interrupted your thoughts full of rainbows and hearts was Vander who placed four glasses on his balcony "mind full of love?" Vander asked laughing as he poured the drinks into shot glasses "what?! no no no, I don't!-"

"ok, calm down little sister, you'll ruin the peace of this place" Felicia said laughing putting her hand on your shoulder you huffed and slammed your red face against the balcony as you felt Felicia sit down next to you

You heard Felicia laugh out loud at your reaction. You didn't hear much of what your sister said next, you were too focused on getting yourself together.

You raised your head and hand to grab a shot glass Vander had left for you and took a sip

“I’m pregnant” you spat the drink out in front of you and started coughing, you felt a hand pat your back trying to get you to breathe properly again. You didn't even see Vander replace Felicia's drink with juice.

"this wasn't really the reaction I was expecting" Felcia laughed looking at you, your eyes were wide as you looked at her and your eyes were a little red since you almost choked a few seconds ago. Felicia took hold of her juice as you slowly stood up from the stool. Your sister was about to become a mother and you were an aunt, you were amazed at the calm with which she announced it

“wow, I’m the one who should be delirious” your sister turned to look at you still sitting "no... I'm just... well I don't know how to describe it, shocked but also happy. I just... fuck I've never seen you as a mother" you laughed for the first time today "I'll take that as a compliment" Felicia sneered.

In the meantime Silco had closed his notebook and approached the three of you with the stool

you aunt...

you aunt...

Felicia mother...

you aunt

Felicia mother

WOW.

"Are you there?” you heard Felicia call you, you hadn't even noticed that she had gotten up and was walking towards the exit "let's go" "

I...I think I'll stay a little longer to clear my head" Felicia shook her head and laughed "okay but don't be late, idiot 2 has to close" you laughed at his statement

"stay as long as you want" Vander smiled at you and started to go to the back "where are you going!?" you panicked knowing that you would have to be alone with Silco, it appealed to you on the one hand but on the other you knew that you would stutter more than anything else

“fuck…” you hissed, placing a hand on the side of your head Silco drank his drink while turning his gaze towards you

"I've seen you upset all evening, something's wrong?"

YOU, YOU

"I...I absolutely don't, I mean I don't know it's just very hot, and then for the news, but, but everything's fine seriously" you said everything so quickly, gesturing and scratching your head and the back of your neck.

"are you sure it's just that, because once I saw you alone with Felicia and you were so at ease and then I see you with me: you're nervous, you're tearing them apart and you're more nervous" Silco placed his chin on his hand while he he moved closer and closer with the stool

You tried to speak but nothing came out of your mouth "Did the cat get your tongue?" Silco laughed in the same position.

“I don't know what you're saying-" You started to turn your head but his bandaged hand grabbed your chin. “don’t mock my intelligence” you saw his face move closer to yours quickly.

Silco stopped a few millimeters from your lips "may I?" he asked You nodded uncertainly and suddenly some fireworks that only you could see went off. You felt Silco's thin, warm lips on yours. He placed his other hand on your cheek, leaning forward on the stool

You pushed Silco back slightly, as good as it felt, "what if Vander comes back or what if Felicia comes back?" “We'll make it quick, they won't know” he put his hand that was on your chin, on the back of your neck to bring you closer and placed his warm lips on yours again.

You were always uncertain, you were never able to make decisions, but it was the time to do it, right? This time you didn't hold back, you tried to deepen the kiss, even if you weren't expert but it came almost naturally to you

Silco put his hands on your hips and jerked you up "what...what are you doing?" You asked between kisses. His hand moved behind your back while the other remained on your hip and he suddenly pushed your back against the desk. "this" he smiled. The hand that was on your hip quickly moved under your shirt.

Your hands had moved seconds before to his shoulders but one moved more securely to his pigtail, ready to untie him "can...can I untie them?" Silco moved his face away from yours slightly and looked into your eyes “of course you can” his voice had become huskier than usual. With his approval, you let down his black hair, it was definitely lovely.

The hand that was under your shirt moved to your bra covered breast. Your hands rushed to grip his hair. You had never been touched by a man, you had always had a crush on Silco, so this was more than exciting

You both stopped in your tracks when you heard noises coming from the back. "fuck...it's better if-" "We'll make it quick, I promise" Silco interrupted you

His hands quickly went to your pants and you copied his movements by unzipping his, all while the two of you resumed kissing. Silco's hands quickly pulled down his trousers, just to be able to perform the act. “it will hurt, as much as I want to avoid it I can't, stop me immediately if I hurt you” you nodded slowly as he lowered his open pants.

Before long the cock was inside you, you suddenly hugged yourself to him as you moaned "shit!"

You didn't see Silco smile at your reaction. After seconds you got used to that feeling of filling, Silco's hips began to move slowly until they picked up speed, each thrust slammed against the balcony making noise and with each thrust there was either a moan from you or a grunt from him.

“fuck, fuck…” Silco hissed as he placed a hand on the balcony behind you.

You were almost about to come but something or rather someone stopped you

"Christ! You guys get a fucking room!"

You snapped your head up and turned to see Vander with his hands on his hips and turning his head. Your face turned red as a tomato and you pushed Silco away and immediately pulled up your pants. He on the other hand was so calm as he pulled up his pants and laughed at your reaction

"I had just cleaned it" he huffed putting the rag on his shoulder

You rushed to the exit without saying anything.

“Are you leaving without saying goodbye?” Silco's voice called you with your hands at your sides you turned towards him uncertainly, you took hesitant steps towards him who had his hands crossed and his hair still loose and disheveled. You waited a few seconds and in a thousandth of a second you gave him a kiss on the cheek and quickly left the bar.

"congratulations idiot 1"

"thanks idiot 2" Silco was still looking with loving eyes at the exit you had passed through a few seconds before

[so-very-small]

I lived in a small village, on the outskirts on the Giant’s Forest. I had never seen the giant, though I’ve heard the tales; he’s as big as the trees and his home could fit the whole village inside, he’s a monstrous beast that one should always avoid. A gargantuan terror, that no one sees and lives to tell the tale.

I did always venture farther into the woods than the others. I feared the Giant as we all do, but all the good forage at the forest edge had been plucked clean, so I went further. I don’t recall how I got injured, but I’ll never forget the tremors of the earth as the Giant approached. I don’t think it was the pain in my leg that made me faint, it was sheer and utter fright.

I woke up on a large pillow, leg bandaged and the dirt wiped off my face. In the Giant’s home. It took time for us to even be able to talk without my terror getting in the way. But I have now been here two weeks, and I. feel. stupid. I am watching The Giant, The Monster of the Forest, the Great Unfathomable Beast, and he just sneezed so hard he hit his head on a doorframe. Yesterday he accidentally stepped on a flower, and cried about it. I spent decades of my life being terrified of this “monster”, and he’s singing showtunes while baking a pie. You’re telling me I was scared all those years FOR NOTHING? I’M KINDA MAD ABOUT IT. HE’S JUST SOME GUY.

[softpascalito]

Dulcissima I Marcus Acacius x Vestal!Reader I Chapter I

! This Fic contains major spoilers for Gladiator II ! Proceed with caution !

Spoiler-Free Summary: Set before and during Gladiator II. General Acacius finds himself entranced by a highly valued priestess of Rome – A Vestal Virgin. Both have taken vows that make sure their paths may never cross. Until they do.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x F!Vestal!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 37k+ Tags: Secret Relationship, Vestal Virgins, Religious Guilt, Gladiator fights, Gladiator II compliant (more or less), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ancient Rome, Age Difference, Slow Burn(ish), Injry, Kissing, Historical Inaccuracy, (Attempted) Sexual Harassment, More tags to be added

AO3 I Series Masterlist I Masterlist

notes: ! last major spoiler warning for gladiator II below the cut !

guys, where do we even start. i can't live with his end so i am rewriting it. enjoy <3

vestal (vigins) - priestesses of vesta, virgin goddess of Rome's sacred flame (details will be explained later in the story) dulcissima - sweetest (fond nickname) domus - a roman house posticum - a servant's entrance cubiculas - roman bedrooms

You didn't think it would lead to this.

A beloved General, a just man, kneeling in front of his opponent in the sand that covers the arena floor, the cloud of its dust settling onto the two men facing each other. The particles glisten in the scorching heat of the relentless sun above you, just as violent as the battle you have just witnessed.

It is not something you have ever truly enjoyed, hearing the last gasp of a dying man, seeing the moment a blade enters his stomach. Watching the winner shout with glee. Watching the dead body be dragged away.

But sitting in the specifically reserved area near the Emperors is good custom. Custom keeps one alive.

Custom is also hard to uphold when the man your heart is set on is fighting to keep his life mere feet below you.

You see Acacius’s lips move, see the pleading look in his eyes.

And then a soft thud echoes through the Colosseum as Lucius drops his sword and falls to his knees across from the General.

You wipe your hands furiously on your white gown, trying to keep your hands from sweating as your heart pumps wildly in your chest. You wonder what would happen to it if the sword would've found Acacius’s torso instead. Or his neck. Maybe it would've just given out, unwilling to beat any longer if his was not doing the same.

“No! Kill him! Soldiers!” The Emperor's cries reach you even through the uproar of the crowd, which is unwilling to accept any match that doesn't end with death. Rome always wants death.

“Archers!” He yells and you hold your breath as they draw their bows in unison, tips pointed right into the middle of the arena where the two men are still kneeling.

“Move,” you whisper under your breath, almost as if you believe Acacius can hear you. But he doesn't. He stays on his knees, upright, seemingly waiting for the arrows to hit. An archer to your left releases his arrow with a slight tremor in his arm–and misses by inches. It hits the sand behind Lucius instead, a small cloud of dust rising around it. But your eyes are drawn to the gentle movement of the General as he raises his arm.

“Hold.”

He doesn't have to scream the command. But his deep voice still travels throughout the Colosseum with urgency. The voice of a man who knows how to instruct his soldiers, how to make himself heard even on the battlefield, in the face of death. Even if it's his own that is imminent.

His reminder rings out in your head.

“How many of them will be loyal to you?” – “All of them.”

The archers hold their fire, no arrows following the first one. You turn your head to catch a glimpse of the twin Emperors, both practically jumping up and down with fury as they yell at the archers, at the guards, at anyone who will listen. “We'll have his head! We'll have the General's head for this! How dare he defy us–”

The bows are lowered as soldiers march into the arena, roughly placing cuffs around both men's hands. Acacius doesn't try to intervene with their orders this time, slowly rising to his feet and letting them lead him back towards the gate, though you don't miss the small stagger in his step. It makes a wave of worry wash over you.

“We’ll have your head, General! You will not live to see another battle! You will not even live to see another sunrise!”

Your blood runs cold at that and you stand up abruptly, your head bowed as your feet carry you back into the outer corridor of the Colosseum, a light breeze greeting you as the angry yells and curses from inside the arena grow more quiet.

You have given everything for Rome. Your vows, your service. You will not give him.

***

The moon is hiding away behind a large cloud when you slip out of the house and onto Via Nova, the sounds of cicadas and the occasional bark of a dog filling the night. Having fulfilled your duties for the evening and claimed that the scene at the Colosseum gave you a dull headache, you retired early. When the sounds of the other women in the house died down, you took your chance.

It isn't far to the domus Acacius and Lucilla reside in, your own quarters located just below Palatine Hill. On a clear day, you can see the stone walls of his house from the garden you use to grow herbs.

After about fifty feet, you turn, following down a more narrow path that allows you to travel in the shadows. A few minutes later, it leads you to the posticum of the noble home, an entrance off to the side, used mainly by the servants–or visitors unwilling to be seen. Acacius has taken to keeping it unlocked whenever he knows you are coming. You pray that it still is.

A light push against the wooden door is all it needs to swing open with a small creak, making you hold your breath as you place one careful foot in front of the other. The last thing you need is to alert any guards to your nightly visit.

But you’ve learned how to walk in the shadows and which streets to avoid. You know that the second step from the bottom creaks if you put too much weight on it. It feels like the stone walls of his house are silent witnesses to the amount of time you have spent tip-toeing to his quarters after everyone else has retired for the night.

You distantly wonder if they have allowed him the comfort of his own bed as you enter the atrium, already turning right towards the cubiculas–and pause when your gaze flickers around the open space.

Acacius is hunched over on a chair, a thick metal cuff sneaking around his ankle, the chain fastened securely around one of the columns that line each side of the open room. Your breath catches in your throat as you notice that he is wearing nothing but his red tunic, the gold details on the edges already worn and fading. He shivers in the cold night air, his arms wrapped protectively around himself. He looks so different from how he did in the arena just mere hours earlier. Smaller, somehow.

When you step forward, his head turns, eyes widening as you step into the dim light and recognition flickers over his face. “Dulcissima.”

You try to give him a smile but you're sure it fails miserably. Instead, you lessen the distance between you, passing the fountain in the center. “Acacius–”

“By the gods, what are you doing here?” He whispers, his soft brown eyes looking up at you. He sounds scared, his voice quiet but rough. Up close, you find that not only have they left him chained up in his own atrium but they have also not tended to his wounds. Caked blood and dirt decorate his skin, a part of his hair matted down with something that you hope is the latter.

You ignore his question. “They sentenced you to death.” No matter how hard you try, you can't keep your voice from shaking.

“They sentenced me to death the moment they learned about the plot,” Acacius mumbles quietly. “You know this. It was always going to end this way.”

“Where is Lucilla?” You ask quietly, casting a quick glance around yourself, almost expecting her to step forward from behind one of the columns. Even if you know you have nothing to fear from her. In fact, she may be the only person who understands what you are currently feeling.

“She is with two of the men. On their way to Lucius,” he admits, turning his body a bit more into your direction, which immediately forces a small grunt out of him. You suck in a sharp breath, though you're not sure whether it's in response to his injury or to what you just learned.

“He may already be dead.”

Acacius glances up at you with a look you can't quite place. Then he nods. “He may be.” He shakes his head ever so slightly. “But he has friends in the Colosseum. You forget whose son he is.” The General pauses again, his eyes searching your face as his whisper becomes more urgent. “Why are you here?”

A small sigh escapes you as you take two more steps towards Acacius. “Because you forgot who I am.”

It takes a few moments before recognition flickers in his eyes–and he understands. That as a Vestal, you may pardon with a touch of your hand. Even slaves. Even those sentenced to death.

He has seen you do it, once or twice. When prisoners called out to you as you passed by them with the jug of holy water. Begged you to place your palm on their head, to allow them to live. And they did. But this? This is different.

“No.”

“Marcus,” you say softly. “It’s the power they have given me, the role they have cursed me with. I may as well use it for good.”

“Dulcissima, they will know,” he protests, wincing slightly as he shifts his weight onto his legs and stands up. “They will know about us. They do not even need proof to put you on trial.”

“I do not care if they put me on trial,” you blurt out, taking a step forward just as he takes two back.

“Do not lay your hand on me,” he warns, raising his hand not unlike the way he did in the Colosseum earlier.

“Marcus. Please.” You’re begging more than asking. You don't think you could take it. A Rome without him.

His back hits the marble column and he curses under his breath just as you reach him. The chains meant to keep him from escaping turn into chains that make sure you can save him. Even if he does not want saving.

The tremor that has been a constant in your hands since seeing Acacius fall to his knees in the arena has disappeared, your fingers stretching slightly as you stand on tiptoes to reach for his head.

Soft, dark curls greet the tips of your fingers and you sigh in relief, mumbling a prayer as your hand comes to rest on his head like a crown. A shuddering breath leaves him, his eyes cast downward. Tension bleeds from his body, his shoulders sagging. A softness his soldiers never get to see.

It is a reminder of the nights you’ve spent together, always hidden and always too short. With whispered promises and silent prayers to Vesta to forgive you for loving him. You do not know how not to. And you don't ever want to find out.

But the way you bend upward, lips meeting his forehead–it simply comes more naturally than it should.

notes: thank you for reading! feel free to follow me on here or twitter/ao3 for updates on the next chapters! also, i would love to hear yalls thoughts so feel very free to leave a comment <3

! when commenting or reblogging, please make sure to hide spoilers from others !

[winterislife]

The Battle of Hearts

Pairing: Karina x fem reader

Genre: enemies to lovers (kinda bad)

Words: 1.6k

A/N: hello I'm just new to tumblr so idk how to arrange this hehe and also I'm just a beginner in writing so feel free not to read and you guys can also give me tips to Improve it😊

---

Y/N had always prided herself on being the best. No one in her school had ever challenged her until Karina came along.

It wasn’t that Y/N was unintelligent—far from it. She was fierce, sharp-tongued, and always one step ahead of everyone else in every subject. But, no matter how hard she pushed herself, she always ended up second to Karina. It burned in her chest like a constant, unshakable fire.

Karina was tall, striking, with a brilliance that matched her looks. She was everything Y/N wasn’t. Where Y/N was all attitude, Karina was poised. Where Y/N’s talent was hidden beneath layers of snark and stubbornness, Karina’s intelligence shone through effortlessly. And, to add insult to injury, Karina was popular, the one everyone admired, the one everyone wanted to be.

Y/N hated it. She hated Karina.

It wasn’t just the grades, either. Karina’s mere presence in the classroom sent ripples through Y/N’s usually unwavering confidence. Karina's smile, effortlessly warm and disarming, made Y/N want to scream every time it flashed in her direction.

Y/N gritted her teeth as she walked into class, her gaze instinctively landing on Karina, who sat at the front, reading a book as usual. Karina didn’t even glance up. It only irritated Y/N more.

"Good morning, Y/N," Karina’s voice drifted through the air like a soft melody. Y/N couldn’t understand why it always grated on her nerves.

"Good morning," Y/N replied curtly, though she wasn’t in the mood for conversation. She couldn’t care less about Karina’s fake sweetness.

Y/N’s hands tightened around her books as she made her way to her seat. Every class with Karina was a game of nerves. Every time she was just slightly behind, it gnawed at her.

Karina, as usual, breezed through the lesson with ease, answering the teacher's questions before anyone else could even raise their hand. Y/N fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Show-off", she thought bitterly.

But it wasn’t just Karina’s academic brilliance that made Y/N so bitter. No, it was something more. Something that she’d never admit to herself, let alone anyone else. Karina’s beauty, her effortless grace—it made Y/N feel small, inadequate.

Still, Y/N couldn't let herself back down. She couldn’t afford to lose to Karina. Not when everything she had worked for was on the line.

If she thinks she's going to stay at the top, she’s got another thing coming, Y/N thought.

---

Days passed, and the rivalry between Y/N and Karina only grew more intense. Every test, every presentation, every little moment in the classroom felt like another battle to be won. Y/N didn’t back down—she never did. Her fierce determination kept her fighting for that top spot, no matter how many times she lost to Karina.

Yet, over time, something strange began to happen. The biting tension between them shifted, subtly at first, but unmistakably. Karina started to look at Y/N in ways that she hadn’t before. Sometimes, when they crossed paths in the hallways, Y/N would catch her watching, those sharp, intelligent eyes narrowing in a way that made her pulse quicken, even though she refused to admit it.

One day after class, as Y/N grabbed her bag, preparing to rush out of the room to avoid another “friendly” interaction with Karina, she was stopped.

“Y/N,” Karina’s voice rang out.

Y/N froze, her fingers tightening on the strap of her bag. "Not again," she thought.

“What do you want, Karina?” Y/N’s voice was curt, defensive, but there was a slight tremor in it that she couldn't hide.

Karina stood at the front of the class, her gaze soft but unwavering. Her usual confident demeanor had a hint of something else—something Y/N couldn’t quite place. “Can we talk for a minute?”

Y/N shot her a skeptical glance. “About what?”

“About... us,” Karina said, taking a step closer.

Y/N’s heart thudded in her chest. "Us? There’s no ‘us,’" she thought, though the idea gnawed at her.

“What’s there to talk about?” Y/N snapped, but her bravado was starting to crack under the intensity of Karina’s gaze.

Karina smiled softly, a gentle curve of her lips that made Y/N’s stomach twist in unexpected ways. “You know, Y/N, for someone so smart, you sure don’t see a lot of things right in front of you.”

Y/N blinked. “What are you talking about?”

Karina’s smile faltered just a bit, as if she was debating how much to reveal. “You’re not as invisible as you think you are,” she said quietly. “I’ve noticed you. More than you realize.”

Y/N scoffed. “Oh, please. You’re just trying to get under my skin again. It’s not going to work.”

But Karina wasn’t backing down. She took another step closer, her presence filling the space between them in a way that left Y/N’s pulse racing. “I think I’ve been getting under your skin for a while now.”

The words hung in the air, charged with an energy neither of them could deny. Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat. Was Karina saying what she thought she was saying?

“Are you—” Y/N started, but Karina interrupted her with a shake of her head.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Karina said softly. “But we don’t have to talk about it right now. I just wanted you to know.”

Y/N’s mind was racing, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion. She wanted to lash out, to argue, but instead, something held her back. Something about the sincerity in Karina’s voice, the way she looked at her, made her hesitate.

“You’re… not mad at me anymore?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t know why she cared, but she did. She couldn’t ignore it.

Karina’s expression softened even more. “No, Y/N. I’m not mad at you. I never really was. I just wanted to get to know you better.”

Y/N’s heart was pounding in her chest. This wasn’t how she thought things would go. She had spent so much time despising Karina, focusing on her as the enemy, that she hadn’t realized just how much she had come to depend on her presence—her every move. Her words, her smile, everything about Karina now felt like a part of the puzzle that was her life, a puzzle Y/N had spent too long trying to ignore.

Before she could speak, Karina’s hand brushed lightly against hers, the touch soft and fleeting, but it was enough to send a shockwave through Y/N.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” Karina added quietly. “But just think about it, okay?”

Y/N swallowed, staring at their hands for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet Karina’s. Her heart was in her throat, and for the first time in a long while, she didn’t have the words to keep fighting.

“Okay,” Y/N muttered, feeling strangely vulnerable. She couldn’t help but feel the weight of Karina’s presence in a way she never had before.

As Y/N walked out of the classroom, her mind was a jumble of conflicting emotions. She couldn’t admit it—not to herself, not to anyone—but for the first time, she felt something other than disdain for Karina. Something unfamiliar, and maybe, just maybe, something a little dangerous.

---

The days after that conversation with Karina left Y/N in a whirlwind of confusion. She couldn’t escape the thoughts of Karina, not completely. Every time she closed her eyes, Karina’s smile flashed before her. Every time they passed each other in the hallway, Y/N felt the same strange sensation—the flutter in her chest, the way her pulse seemed to race when their eyes met. It was disorienting, and for the first time, it was all Y/N could do to keep her composure.

She couldn’t—wouldn’t—admit to herself what was happening.

It wasn’t just that Karina was brilliant, beautiful, and graceful. It wasn’t even that Karina was starting to see past Y/N’s tough exterior, to the person she’d spent so long hiding. No, it was deeper than that. The truth was undeniable, and yet, Y/N couldn’t bring herself to confront it.

"I don’t like her," Y/N told herself over and over, though the words felt empty and hollow each time. "I can’t like her. Not Karina."

But the more she tried to push those thoughts aside, the stronger they became.

The following week, Y/N found herself in the school library, desperately trying to focus on her studies, but her thoughts kept drifting. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way Karina had looked at her when she said she wanted to get to know her better. The softness in her eyes, the vulnerability she rarely showed to anyone.

"She’s just playing games," Y/N tried to convince herself. "She’s just trying to mess with me. She’s always been so... perfect, and I’ve always been the one who had to fight for everything. There’s no way she could actually like me."

Yet, every time she thought about Karina’s words, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more there. Karina had said it herself: "I just want to get to know you better." What did that mean? Was she really interested in Y/N? Or was this just another one of her attempts to get under Y/N’s skin, to show that she was untouchable, to play with her emotions like a cat with a mouse?

But no matter how much Y/N tried to deny it, she couldn’t stop wondering if Karina was being honest. And that, more than anything, unsettled her.

“Y/N?”

The voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see Karina standing at the entrance of the library, a hesitant expression on her face.

“Uh, hey, Karina,” Y/N muttered, her heart racing despite herself. She quickly shoved her textbook aside, trying to hide the fact that her hands were shaking.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Karina said, her voice soft and unassuming. She took a step closer, her eyes scanning the bookshelves as if she were looking for something.

“No, it’s fine,” Y/N replied, forcing a casual tone into her voice. She leaned back in her chair, trying to appear nonchalant, though her heart was still pounding in her chest.

Karina paused for a moment, then sat down across from Y/N at the table, her movements graceful and deliberate. She looked up at Y/N with a soft smile. “I was wondering if you wanted to study together for the upcoming test. I mean, we’re both at the top of the class, right? Might as well make the most of it.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, still trying to keep her cool. "Why is she doing this?"

“Sure,” Y/N said, not wanting to appear too eager to spend time with Karina, even though every part of her was screaming to do just that. “But don’t think I’m going easy on you. You might be the top of the class, but I’m still right behind you.”

Karina chuckled softly, her laughter light and melodic. “I wouldn’t expect you to. That’s part of the fun, isn’t it?”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile in return, though she quickly wiped it away, reminding herself that this was still a competition. She had to keep her guard up. "No feelings. No distractions."

The two of them spent the next hour studying in silence, the only sounds being the rustle of pages and the occasional tap of a pencil. But even in this quiet space, Y/N couldn’t ignore the way her heart raced every time Karina looked at her, or how every brush of their hands or shared glance sent a jolt of warmth through her.

"Focus," Y/N told herself. "You’re here to study, nothing more."

But it was getting harder and harder to ignore the pull between them. The way Karina would glance at her over the top of her book, the way she would smile whenever Y/N got something right, her eyes lighting up with genuine pride. Karina was warm and attentive in ways Y/N had never expected.

And the worst part? Y/N was starting to enjoy it. More than she should.

“Y/N,” Karina said suddenly, breaking the silence. Y/N looked up, startled.

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re a lot more than just the ‘second top student,’” Karina said, her voice serious now. There was no hint of teasing, just a quiet sincerity that Y/N wasn’t used to hearing from her.

Y/N blinked, unsure of how to respond. Her throat felt tight. "She’s looking at me like..."

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked, her voice hoarse despite her best efforts to sound normal.

Karina didn’t answer right away. She just stared at Y/N, her expression unreadable. Then, as if making up her mind, she leaned in slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, you’re smart, yes. Fierce, yes. But there’s so much more to you, Y/N. You don’t have to keep pretending that you’re just the tough girl who doesn’t care. I see through that.”

Y/N froze. She had no words. The way Karina was looking at her... it was as if she could see straight through the walls Y/N had built around herself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Y/N muttered, her voice sounding weak even to her own ears. She clenched her fists under the table, trying to fight the heat rising in her chest.

“I think you do,” Karina said softly, her eyes locking onto Y/N’s with a knowing intensity. “But I’m not going to push you. Not now. I just want you to know that I’m not the enemy here, Y/N.”

Y/N swallowed hard. Her emotions were all over the place—confusion, fear, desire, and something else she couldn’t name. She looked away, unable to meet Karina’s gaze anymore.

"What do I even feel?" Y/N thought, her mind a whirlwind of uncertainty. She didn’t want to like Karina, didn’t want to admit how much she was drawn to her. But the more Karina’s words echoed in her mind, the more Y/N realized that the lines between hatred and attraction were starting to blur.

“I’ll think about it,” Y/N whispered, more to herself than to Karina.

Karina smiled softly, and for the first time, Y/N didn’t feel the need to push it away.

---

The following day, Y/N couldn’t shake the weight of the conversation with Karina. Every time she tried to focus on anything, her mind kept circling back to those soft words Karina had said, the way her gaze lingered on her, the warmth in her voice when she spoke.

It was maddening.

Y/N tried to convince herself that she was just overthinking it. Karina was a flirt, right? It was just a game for her. After all, she had everything—brains, beauty, popularity. Why would someone like Karina be interested in someone like Y/N, who was always second-best, always fighting for attention?

"She’s just messing with me," Y/N thought bitterly. "It’s a game, and I’m not going to play along."

But despite all the arguments swirling in her mind, there was a part of her that couldn’t let go of what Karina had said: "I’m not the enemy here, Y/N."

Y/N tried to ignore it, but it gnawed at her like a splinter she couldn’t pull out. Her chest tightened every time she thought about Karina’s soft smile, the warmth in her eyes.

That afternoon, as Y/N walked down the hallway, she spotted Karina by her locker, laughing with a group of friends. The sight made Y/N’s heart skip a beat, but it also triggered something else—a spike of irritation that had been building since the day before.

Without thinking, Y/N marched up to her, her steps quick and purposeful.

“Karina!” Y/N’s voice was sharp, cutting through the noise of the hallway.

Karina looked up, her eyes widening in surprise. “Y/N? What’s going on?”

Y/N didn’t give her a chance to respond. “I’m done with this, Karina,” she said, her voice loud enough that it turned heads. “Stop playing your little games. I’m not some toy for you to mess with. I get it, okay? You think it’s funny, seeing me squirm, but I’m not falling for it.”

The hallway fell into a tense silence as people turned to watch the scene unfold. Karina stood frozen, her smile faltering, her friends exchanging confused glances.

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” Karina said, her voice softer now, but there was a hint of concern in her eyes. “I’m not playing any games. I don’t—”

“Don’t give me that!” Y/N cut her off, her emotions spilling over like a dam breaking. “You act like you’re interested, like you care, but I know better. You’ve probably got some bet or something with your friends to see how far you can go. But I’m not stupid. I’m done being your plaything, Karina.”

Karina’s eyes widened in shock, and for a brief moment, Y/N saw something there—something vulnerable, something raw. But Y/N didn’t want to see it. She didn’t want to feel the pang of regret starting to form in her chest.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Karina said quietly, her voice shaking slightly. “I’m not playing with you. I never was.”

Y/N shook her head, stepping back. “Don’t lie to me. I’m not falling for it anymore.” She turned on her heel, walking away, leaving Karina standing there, looking bewildered and hurt.

Y/N didn’t stop walking until she was outside, standing in the cold air, trying to steady her breath. The rush of adrenaline had started to fade, and now all she felt was an overwhelming sense of guilt.

"What did I just do?" Y/N thought, her heart pounding in her chest. "I shouldn’t have yelled at her like that. What if I was wrong? What if…"

But the more she thought about it, the more her anger flared again. She couldn’t help it. The idea of Karina playing with her emotions, of pretending to care just to mess with her, felt like a betrayal. Y/N hated feeling vulnerable, hated the idea of letting someone in only to be hurt.

But there was another voice, quieter and more persistent, that refused to be silenced. "What if Karina wasn’t playing a game? What if you’re just too scared to admit the truth?"

Y/N clenched her fists. "No. It’s easier to hate her. It’s easier to believe she’s just playing with me."

---

Later that day, Y/N was in the library, trying to drown out the guilt and confusion with more studying. She had her books open in front of her, but her mind kept drifting back to Karina. The way she had looked at her, her hurt expression, the way she hadn’t even tried to defend herself when Y/N accused her of playing games.

A voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Y/N.”

She turned quickly, expecting to see one of her classmates, but instead, it was Karina. She was standing at the entrance of the library, looking hesitant, her expression soft and earnest. There was no hint of a game in her eyes, no teasing smile. Just… sincerity.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat.

“What do you want?” Y/N asked, her voice more defensive than she intended, but she couldn’t help it. Seeing Karina here, after everything that had happened, made her feel exposed, vulnerable.

“I just… I need you to understand,” Karina said, taking a cautious step forward. “I’m not playing with you, Y/N. I never was. I don’t know how to make you see that, but I can’t just let you walk away thinking that.”

Y/N stared at her, her emotions in turmoil. "Why does she look so… hurt?" Her heart clenched at the sight of Karina standing there, clearly torn.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Y/N said, her voice quieter now. “I thought… I thought you were just messing with me. I thought you were playing some kind of game, like everyone else.”

Karina’s expression softened, and she took another step closer. “I’m not like everyone else, Y/N. I didn’t want to hurt you. I never did. But I think you’re afraid to let someone care about you. And I get it. I do. I’ve seen how hard you fight to keep everyone at a distance. But I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to be close to you. To let you know that you don’t have to keep fighting alone.”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her chest. Karina’s words were like a punch to the gut—soft, honest, and real. It was everything Y/N had been too afraid to admit, even to herself. The truth that had been lingering in her chest for weeks.

"Could it really be true?"

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, but the words stuck in her throat. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to untangle the mess of feelings inside her. The only thing she knew for sure was that, no matter how hard she fought it, something between her and Karina was changing.

Something "real".

---

The days after the confrontation were some of the hardest for Y/N. Every time she saw Karina in the halls or in class, the weight of what she had said—the way she had yelled at her, accused her—gnawed at her insides. She tried to keep her distance, pretending that everything was fine, but every time she looked at Karina, she felt a pang of guilt that she couldn’t shake.

It wasn’t just the way she had yelled at Karina. It was the realization that she had been wrong. That Karina wasn’t playing some cruel game. She wasn’t toying with Y/N’s feelings for fun. Karina had been honest with her, vulnerable in a way Y/N had never expected.

And now Y/N couldn’t ignore it anymore—couldn’t ignore the way her heart fluttered every time Karina smiled at her, the way her thoughts had drifted toward Karina more and more each day.

It wasn’t just admiration. It was something deeper. Something she had been too scared to admit.

I like her. I like Karina.

That thought had been haunting her for days, and Y/N couldn’t run from it any longer. She had to make things right. She had to apologize.

It was after school when Y/N finally found the courage to confront Karina. She spotted her walking toward the gates of the school, her long hair swaying gently behind her, and for a moment, Y/N hesitated. What if Karina didn’t want to hear it? What if she was angry with her?

"No. You need to apologize," Y/N thought firmly. "This isn’t about pride anymore."

Taking a deep breath, Y/N walked briskly toward Karina. The moment Karina saw her, her eyes widened in surprise, and she stopped walking, waiting for Y/N to catch up.

“Karina,” Y/N called out, her voice shaky but determined. “Can we talk?”

Karina hesitated for a moment, then nodded, her expression softening. “Of course. What’s up?”

Y/N’s heart raced as she took a few steps closer, standing in front of Karina. The words she had rehearsed in her mind seemed to disappear as soon as she opened her mouth.

“I… I owe you an apology,” Y/N started, her voice low. She looked down for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “I’m sorry for what I said the other day. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

Karina blinked, clearly surprised. “Y/N, you don’t have to apologize. I understand why you were upset. I should’ve explained things better.”

“No,” Y/N interrupted, shaking her head. “It wasn’t just that. I was… I was angry at myself. And at you, but it wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You didn’t deserve that.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Y/N felt her chest tighten, the vulnerability of the moment overwhelming her.

“Y/N,” Karina said gently, her voice softer than usual, “It’s okay. Really. I know I made you feel like I was playing with you, and I never meant to make you feel that way. But… I’m not playing games. I’m not that person.”

Y/N finally looked up, meeting Karina’s gaze. There was no anger there, only understanding. Karina wasn’t holding onto the past anymore. But Y/N still had more to say.

“I know. And I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered, her heart pounding. “I just… I didn’t know how to handle it. How to handle you.”

Karina raised an eyebrow, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Me?”

Y/N swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah, you. I’ve been acting like an idiot because I didn’t want to admit that I… that I like you.”

Karina’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, Y/N thought she had said the wrong thing, that she had made things even more awkward. But then, Karina’s smile widened, and her expression softened.

“You like me?” Karina repeated softly, as if testing the words on her own lips.

Y/N nodded, her heart racing. “Yeah. I do. I’ve been trying to ignore it, trying to convince myself that it was just some stupid rivalry, but it’s more than that. I’ve been… scared.”

“Scared of what?” Karina asked gently, taking a small step forward, her voice full of warmth.

“Scared of being vulnerable,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of letting someone in. Scared of what liking you means. I’ve always fought to be the best, to not need anyone, and now… now I’m realizing that maybe I don’t want to fight it anymore.”

Karina’s eyes softened even further, and she reached out, her fingers brushing against Y/N’s hand in a gesture that made Y/N’s heart flutter.

“I’m glad you’re being honest with me,” Karina said softly, her voice full of tenderness. “I never wanted to make you feel like you couldn’t trust me. And I’m sorry for that. But I’m glad you’re letting me in.”

Y/N took a deep breath, finally allowing herself to feel the relief that came with letting go of the fear that had been holding her back for so long. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you. You didn’t deserve that.”

“No, I didn’t,” Karina said with a teasing smile, but there was no malice behind her words. “But I’m willing to forgive you.”

Y/N chuckled softly, the tension in her body slowly melting away. “You’re too nice to me.”

Karina shrugged playfully. “I’m not perfect. But I like you, too, Y/N. I think you’re amazing. You’re fierce and smart, and I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the words. It felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, the truth between them now out in the open.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” Y/N whispered, looking at Karina, her voice full of sincerity. “Not with you. Not if you don’t want to fight, either.”

Karina’s smile widened, her eyes sparkling with something that made Y/N’s chest feel tight. “I don’t want to fight anymore either.”

There was a brief, beautiful silence between them before Karina stepped closer, her fingers brushing against Y/N’s hand once more. “So... where do we go from here?”

Y/N hesitated for just a moment, her heart racing, before she finally allowed herself to answer, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Wherever you want to go.”

And with that, the walls that had once separated them—walls built on rivalry, fear, and confusion—came crashing down. The tension that had once been so suffocating now felt lighter, more hopeful. Karina was no longer just the girl who had been the object of Y/N’s rivalry. She was someone Y/N wanted to be close to.

Someone Y/N finally allowed herself to care for.

---

[kxsagi]

Good evening to you! I recently read that isagi fic of yours where the reader drooled over his thighs and how they looked in compression shorts (honestly so real #NEEEDTHATT ). I then couldn't stop thinking of Itoshi Rin in compression shorts.

HEAR ME OUT GUYS COME BACK JUST LISTEN WAIT🗣🗣🙍‍♀️🙌🙏

So i wanted to make a request for Itoshi Rin with a fem or gender neutral reader where its similar to that Isagi fic but with Rin? JSHEKAMKKAA IDKK I hope you don't mind this request and thank you if you read this 😭❤

“#𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐”

a/n: i fear this is my villain origin story 

i love watching rin edits and they just show that one part of him with the leg press machine in season 2 and his thighs are bulging out like 🤤

(idk art credits sorry 😖)

you’d like to think you’re a person of dignity. that you have self-restraint. but then rin itoshi walks into the living room in compression shorts like it’s no big deal. like he’s not out here casually committing crimes against your sanity. 

compression shorts. clinging to him. highlighting every sinew of muscle, every sharp curve of his thighs, like the fabric was custom-made to ruin your life. his quads look carved out of stone, taut and firm from years of training. you blink once, twice, and then just openly stare, because what’s the point in pretending? 

“what?” rin’s voice is flat, disinterested, like he hasn’t just casually unleashed the seventh circle of temptation into your living room. 

“... what do you mean ‘what’?” you blurt out, voice far too scandalized. you gesture vaguely at his legs. at the sin itself. “that. that’s illegal.” 

he gives you a slow, unimpressed blink. like you just said something profoundly stupid. because to him, this is nothing. just regular training attire. but to you? it’s a personal attack. 

he stretches his leg slightly, just to adjust his stance, and you swear you see god. the muscle shifts and flexes beneath the fabric, and your soul practically leaves your body. 

“you’re being weird.” his tone is completely flat, but his eyes linger on you for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. 

you snap. “don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing.” 

he shrugs, exuding the kind of calm indifference that makes you want to scream into a pillow. “i’m literally just standing here.” 

oh, the gaslighting. the audacity. as if he isn’t fully aware of the way his compression shorts are clinging to him like a second skin. 

he drops onto the couch beside you, legs slightly spread, muscles still taut from practice. like he’s not driving you insane on purpose. 

“you’re staring,” he mutters, eyes fixed on his phone, like he couldn’t be less bothered. 

“yeah,” you deadpan, “because you’re out here with your thighs of mass destruction.” 

he doesn’t even look up. just a disinterested hum, as if you’ve made an observation about the weather. like you’re not currently fighting for your life over there. 

“not my fault you’re weak,” he mutters. 

your eye twitches. “oh, you think this is funny?” you jab a finger at his thigh. bad decision. because the moment your finger brushes the firm muscle, you’re done for. his thigh is unreasonably solid. unfairly warm. you swear you feel a faint tremor in your hand. 

rin finally, finally, glances at you, one brow arched slightly. no emotion. just mildly condescending boredom. but there’s the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“go on, then.” his voice is low. neutral. “if it’s so distracting, just touch it already.” 

your brain fully short-circuits. you can’t tell if he’s being genuinely dismissive or just subtly cruel, because his expression doesn’t change at all. perfectly calm. unreadable. like he isn’t making you unravel from the inside out. 

and you hate yourself for how fast you comply. your fingers press into the firm muscle, heat blooming under your palm. and god, it’s everything you imagined and worse. 

“done?” rin asks, glancing at you like you’re the one inconveniencing him. 

“no,” you say instantly, gripping his thigh just a little tighter. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[bighungrywolf]

Suddenly , and after strong tremors that grew stronger and stronger, the city was completely covered by a huge shadow. All the inhabitants, looking up, could see the reason for all these events, and for the sudden masculine musk that suddenly permeated the whole city. "Well, well… it seems that luck is smiling on me. It's been a few miles since I've been able to delight in devouring a good city," said the giant as he looked out over the city, watching all the little humans trying to flee in terror. "Hahaha, it always amuses me that you think running is going to do you any good against me, can't you see that I can make as much progress with a single step as you can in 10 minutes? Ooooh, and to think that a few days ago I was the same size, thank goodness I decided to stop containing this voracious hunger inside me that was asking me to consume other humans, and let my appetite take the wheel of my decisions. The first lucky one was the postal man, who just as he entered my porch to deliver a package, he also entered my maw, and later my stomach. At that moment I understood the pleasure I took in consuming other humans, and I regretted not having done it sooner. Besides, not only did I realise that you guys were delicious, but that you were doing wonders for my body. At first I tried to be discreet, devouring my neighbours or friends after inviting them over, but by the time I had consumed at least a dozen, I could consider myself a real giant, with muscles getting stronger and stronger the more humans I consumed. So I soon began to climb the levels at which I hunted. First I started by devouring an entire neighbourhood, then small villages, until now cities like yours are just a snack for me. Soon this whole continent will be deserted, with all of you little snacks becoming part of my body after being devoured, helping me to grow bigger and bigger. When I have consumed you all, I will be so big that I will be able to see the curvature of the earth, and you will be able to hear my stomach growling in other continents, as a warning of what will be their imminent future". "But why am I bothering to tell you this? You are only food, which in a few minutes I will have devoured completely. I should do as I was always told and stop playing with food, although it's fun to play with your hopes. Now, let me take a handful of you, and let us begin this feast," said the giant, with his two hands moving swiftly towards the city, to transport the little humans to their new home.

[hotluncheddie]

My @steddieexchange for @lulalulens !! :) <3

wc: 3k | rated: E | tags: hurt/comfort, confessions, Christmas fluff, fingering, handjob, they both need a hug and they both get one

₊✩‧₊

It’s Dustin that causes it. Not on purpose, but he’s the catalyst. The uh, what did Robin say about movie plots? Oh, yeah, he was the inciting incident. 

The glasses had a red tint to the lens that reminded Dustin of Cyclops, and Daredevil - something he was sure Eddie would find cool. He held them up in the air as he ran through the store back to Steve. Was sure Eddie would like that they were from the thrift, that they had story - were like an artefact.

And Steve agreed, was exited by Dustin’s excitement. Exited to see Eddie’s face when he opened them. 

Always exited to watch Eddie smile. 

(He didn’t tell Dustin that, since they were still figuring things out. Keeping being together on the low until, well, Steve wasn’t sure. Only Robin and Wayne knew, and that was enough, for now.) 

So Steve smiled, agreed that it was a good choice, but also rolled his eyes, calling them both dorks for thinking looking like a comic guy was cool. But when Christmas Eve came around and the party gathered in the trailer to make it easier on Max’s still recovering body and Eddie’s still recovering reputation, Steve was exited. He shifted in his spot on the couch next to Eddie to watch his face, which was grinning as Dustin handed him the brightly wrapped box. Steve’s arm draped over the back of the couch twitched and his resolve quickly folded, he let his fingers find a wisp of curls to hold, to connect them. 

Eddie opens the case with a laugh, agreeing with Dustins references. ‘I’ll wear these on my first magazine cover.’ He declares, standing and slipping them on. ‘What do you think Mikey? Metal?’ He asks in front of them all, posing with his hand on his hips. Mikes cheeks go slightly pink as he nods and Eddie sends a wink to Steve.

But then Steve notices Eddie’s smile fade slightly as his eyes scan the room, his breathing change. Eddie, with hands clenching his hips so tight his fingers go white, looks up at the untarnished ceiling of the new Munson trailer, and squeezes his eyes shut.

‘Now, not that I don’t love you all, but Wayne allowed me one Christmas smoke and I’m hankering.’ Eddie says woodenly, clapping too loudly in the sudden, cautious, quiet, and turns for the door. 

Steve watched him slip quickly into his shoes and bring his hand up to remove the glasses, a tremor in his fingers. 

The door slams shut a moment later. 

He didn’t even put on a coat. 

Steve’s hand comes to Dustin’s shoulder as he gets up from the couch, trying to tell him it’s alright, trying to tell him not to follow. Lucas pipes up about cigarettes smelling nasty, pulling Dustin into an argument about whether his present for Max is better than Dustin’s present for Suzy. Smart kid. 

Steve grabs his and Eddie’s coats, pulling his own boots on and zipping up. 

‘I’m just gonna, uh.’ he mumbles, half out the door and looking to Robin. He raised his eyebrows, she nods. 

The yellow light from the trailer window cast elongated patches across the frozen ground, too cold now to snow but the flurry they had a few days ago still stubbornly remains in patches, glittering faintly in the light. 

Steve find him, hunched over the front of the bimmer, shadowed by the thicket of bare branches that offer the only corner of privacy from neighbouring unis. 

He approaches slow, Eddie’s shoulders are rising and falling a little too rapidly, white clouds of icy breath billowing out into the star laden sky. The glasses gripped in his hand, knuckles white.

A rogue patch of icy snow crunches under foot. ‘I know you loved it when I called you hot stuff last week, but this is taking it a little far don’t you think?’ He asks softly, draping Eddie’s coat over his shoulders in slow catalogued movements. 

He rests his hand there, between Eddie’s shoulder blades. The rise and fall of his breathing is staggered, and shaking. He rubs circles between the two points of bone, hoping it’s soothing, trying to time it with Eddie’s breaths and is thankful as they slow somewhat, becoming deeper, less ragged. 

‘Want to talk about it?’ 

‘No s’fine. M’fine.’ He mumbles, rubbing his nose. 

��C’mon, don’t be like that man.’ Steve says softly, his heart clenching as Eddie’s lip wobbles. 

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing thickly. ‘It was, it was like I was back there.’ He whispers. 

‘Oh, Ed’s.’ 

Eddie rises finally, tugging at his sweater collar like the stretched material is too tight, sucking in great slow lungfuls of icy air. 

Steve prise the glasses out of Eddie’s stiff fingers, slipping them into his pocket and manoeuvring Eddie properly into his coat. He goes willingly, pliant as the adrenaline leaves his body, hollowing him out. 

‘I, I don’t.’ he sniffs, eyes brimming with tears. 

‘Shh, You’re okay.’ Steve hushes, pulling Eddie into his arms. Hand on the back of his head as he buries his face in Steve’s neck. ‘It’s okay,’ he whispers, rocking them gently, his collar slowly growing damp.  

They stay until Steve’s ears go numb. Until Robin and the kids need to get home. Until Eddie’s face is blotchy and red, but no more tears fill his lash line.

The party files out and into Steve’s car while Eddie slips back into the trailer, mumbling quiet goodbyes and closing the door behind him. 

//

‘Dustin finally took the hint that it’s none of his business why you left, and that no one thinks he caused it.’ Steve says, tossing his keys onto Eddie’s cluttered nightstand. ‘All it took was Rob, Erica and Mike all agreeing on it. My opinion didn’t do shit, obviously.’ He smirks over at Eddie, shucking off his jeans. 

Eddie grunts, just a soft puff of air from his chest. Eye staring up blankly at the ceiling, chewing on a lollipop stick. (Another of Wayne’s ‘we need to quit smoking’ ideas. It helps.) 

‘But can you call him, tomorrow?’ Steve asks, pulling his socks up and taking off his polo.

Eddie blinks over at him finally. ‘Yeah, ‘cause. Wasn’t his fault.’ He murmurs, his eyes raking over Steve. All of him soft and fragile in the lamplight: he always looks smaller somehow, without his jacket and jeans, plaid pyjama pants and worn sweatshirt softening all his edges, reminding Steve how fragile he really is.

He steps over, pulling the stick away from Eddie’s lips, dropping it in the waste basket. 

‘Come here, please?’ Eddie holds his hand out. 

Steve smiles at him, dropping down onto the bed and pulling the quilt up over them both. He shoves at the pillows and leans his head against the wall, pulling Eddie down onto his chest and wrapping him up in his arms.

Eddie nuzzles in, cheek against Steve’s undershirt, hot breath ghosting over his nipple. Steve combs his fingers through Eddie’s hair. 

‘I really thought I was okay, that I was over it.’ He whispers.

Steve hums, resting his cheek on Eddie’s head. 

Eddie swirls a pattern across Steve’s skin with his finger. ‘I, I remember, when the bats, you know’ and his throat clicks on a swallow, ‘remember looking up at the sky and the, the lightning was red. Like, it was like the whole world was made up of these big, red, fucking gashes through the grey. Everything, everything, hot and wet and bleeding.’  

‘Eddie.’ Steve’s voice cracks.  

Eddie sniffs. ’Sorry, that’s, God. Depressing as shit huh?’ His hand splays out, long fingers stretched across Steve’s pec. He clenches his fist.

‘Hush.’ Steve chastises gently, squeezing Eddie tighter. ‘You know I don't mind. I mean, I still get nightmares, and I didn’t even, I wasn’t. You.’ His throat tightens. Eddie was in the hospital, for months. 

‘Stevie.’ 

Eddie’s fingers are on his cheek, stroking gently beneath his eye. Steve breaths deeply through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. 

’S’okay, you got me, we’re here. You got me.’ Eddie murmurs gently. Steve swallowing back a noise, blinking away the sting at his eyes. 

Eddie pulls at him, at the neck of his t-shirt, at his jaw. ‘C’mere, huh? C’mere.’

Steve opens his mouth, moving lower down the bed and sliding his thigh over Eddies. Focuses on the warmth and softness of his lips, the pressure of them against his own. 

Eddie pulls him closer, over and up so he’s straddling him. Their mouths still connected, teeth scraping against lips, sliding together in a way thats hot and wet and makes Steve’s whole mouth tingle. 

‘Can I? I I need. Let me, please.’ Eddie goes for Steve’s shirt, his waistband, pulling and gripping the fabric in his palms. 

Steve rests his forehead against Eddie’s, he can feel his heart beat in his ears. ‘We don’t.’ he swallows. ‘We, are you sure Eddie? It’s, you’re, you were upset.’ he lays his fingers against Eddie’s neck, pulse fluttering under his fingertips. 

Eddie grasps Steve’s hand, pulling it up to kiss at his knuckles. ‘I want to feel like I have control over something in my life Steve. I want this, with you. Let me want this.’ Eddie’s eyes are dark and wide and Steve cant help but fall right in. 

Their hands move until they’re both naked and panting against each other again. Steve grinds his hips down as Eddie whispers in his mouth. ’Come on, we, we got control over fucking nothin. Let’s have this. We have this.’ His fingers pulling at Steve’s hair. 

Fumbling around on the floor by the mattress corner Steve finds their lube. Taking a second to bite his lips and grind his hips again as Eddie sucks wet kisses across his neck.

Eddie’s hand retightens, this time at the back of his neck once Steve is close again. ‘Please.’ He speaks into Eddie’s mouth. ‘Fingers.’

Calloused fingertips tap gently at Steves bottom lips and he swirls his tongue around them, hollowing his cheeks as the hand on the back of his neck squeezes and he feels tension seep out all along his spine. His whole body going pliant and gooey. 

‘A little more.’ says Eddie, pulling his fingers out. Steve uncaps the lube and squeezes some on, having to blink hard in order to refocus his eyes. 

Eddie circles his rim and Steve licks into his mouth as a finger slips inside. They’re fully hard against each other and Steve doesn’t know which sensation to move towards most. 

‘Let me in, baby let me in.’ Eddie whispers, demanding, pleading.

‘You have me, I’m here.’ Steve moans, a second finger slipping inside and stretching him out. His skin hot and prickling as he wraps his hand around them both. Eddie whimpering into his neck.

He feels the scared little monster of want and possessive need raise inside him.  The fire in his belly morphing into something hungry and dangerous. 

‘Don’t, you, I want you to tell me. Always tell me, when you’re not okay.’ He says, whining slightly, eyes squeezes shut. ‘No, no bullshit okay? I want, let me help.’ Because, because even if he can’t fix it, he can still do something, still be enough to help a little.

‘Steve.’ Eddie’s voice is wet. His hand comes up to cradle his cheek. ‘Stevie, baby, look at me.’ 

Steve opens his eyes, the moisture on his lashes sticking them together. His chest rising and falling rapidly. 

‘I love you.’ Eddie says. 

Steve gasps, hand squeezing them both reflexively, making them groan. Eddies fingers twitch inside of him and his skin feels too tight, his mind too foggy to process anything other than the beat of his heart in his ears. 

‘You love me?’ He gasps. ‘You love me.’ 

‘I love you.’ Eddie goes back to kissing his neck, sucking a bruise and crooking his fingers just so. 

Steve laughs, delirious. ‘You love me’ and he starts moving his hand in earnest, the glide slick with their combined pre.   

He grinds himself down as Eddie adds another finger, clenching his teeth at the stretch, and feeling the familiar heat spread through him. 

‘Eddie, baby, m’close.’ he gasps. 

Eddie speeds up, pumping his fingers inside him, grinding his hips up into Steve’s hand. A needy string of ‘ah ah ah’s’ is all he can manage as his vision tunnels. His thumb swiping over their sensitive heads before gripping them tighter, moving his hand faster. 

Steve doesn't know who spills over his fist first, but Eddies fingers were working relentlessly inside him, scissoring and pressing until he couldn't hold on any more, the spool of him unraveling itself completely as he came all over them both.

Panting, he looks down at Eddie below him. His hair splayed out, haloing his flushed cheeks and bitten red lips. Steve marvels at him, watches Eddie drag his clean hand across his face, combing his sweaty bangs away from his forehead. 

‘Hey’ he says, voice soft and wobbly. 

Eddie smiles up at him, cheeky, reaching up and spreading some of the cum into Steve’s skin where it splattered up as high as his chest hair. Steve giggles, feeling loose and happy. 

‘Hey’ he says again, and Eddies eyes flick to his. 

‘I love you.’ He whispers. 

Eddie beams softly as him, his eyes shining.

Steve leans down, kissing him, not caring about the mess between them as he splays his hands across Eddie’s chest, sinking into him and he swears their hearts beat in time. 

They kiss until he can feel Eddie falling asleep beneath him, his mouth moving slower and weaker until its just Steve pressing their lips together, feather light. 

‘Don’t fall asleep on me just yet.’ He says, nipping at Eddie’s lip and laughing at the low growl he receives. ‘One sec, kay?’  

Eddie squeezes him, mumbling out and huffy little ‘one’ just to be annoying before he lets Steve up. He goes to the bathroom to wash his hands and comes back with something to wipe them both off with. 

Eddie is completely pliant as Steve swipes over his chest and crotch, lifting his hand to get between his sticky fingers. The only tell that he isn't fully asleep is the singular cracked eyelid that allows him to follow each of Steve’s movements.

He tosses the cloth into the dirty clothes pile, which isn't his favourite of Eddies organisation choices but right now he doesn’t really care about anything other than crawling under the sheets and wrapping Eddie up in his arms. 

He falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

//

Steve wakes in that slow rolling way that happens when he knows theres nothing needed of him, when his body and mind relaxes enough to let him sleep until he doesn't need to anymore.

He stretches and flips onto his front, shoulders popping deliciously and he just breathes there, eyes closed, until the smell of coffee permeates his reprieve. 

pulling Eddies discarded sweatshirt on and a clean pair of boxers he shuffles into the kitchen, knuckling his eyes and yawning until his jaw clicks. Something in the back of him mind marvels that he can wander into the kitchen without the use of his sight and make it there just fine. Another part wonders, vaguely, how his hair looks, but those thoughts are quickly trounces by the chair he falls into and the steaming mug that Wayne places before him. 

‘Merry Christmas kid.’ 

Steve smiles up at him, the first sip of coffee making him shiver. 

‘Didn’t know hair could do that, must be a Christmas miracle.’ Wayne mumbles from behind his own coffee cup in his gruff, deadpan way.

Steve just scowls at him, taking another sip before he combs his fingers through his hair in an attempt to smooth it down. He feels the strands fling right back up to where they had been and shrugs. 

‘My present to you. Be grateful.’ He says.

Wayne grunts, his eyes sparkling, and he stands to start cracking eggs into the heated up skillet. But not before ruffling Steves hair.

‘Ed, get off the damn phone and come get this bread toastin’.’ 

Eddie’s leaning against the wall with his back to them, phone cord tangled around his fingers. He’s back in his pyjama pants from last night and Steve realises with a burning stab that he’s also in the polo he discarded on the floor yesterday. 

‘Yes. No. Dustin I gotta go, Wayne’s calling. Yeah, we’ll swing by tomorrow okay? Me and Steve sure, yes, okay. I know Dustin, I know. You’re fine. Okay, see you tomorrow. Bye, yes, bye.’ Eddie finally hangs up the phone, sounding exasperated but when he turns he’s already smiling. 

Steve catches Eddie’s hand as he shuffles back into the kitchen, kissing the back of it and preening as Eddie kisses the top of his head. 

‘Happy Christmas love.’ Eddie mumbles into his hair. 

Steve sighs, happiness swelling in him. 

‘Dustin wants us over tomorrow, he got new D&D stuff he wants me to see and he specifically requested your presence.’ Eddie says and starts putting bread in the toaster.

‘Bet if he knew you said it like that he’s get all weird, he only ever says nice stuff about me when I’m not there.’ 

‘He’s obsessed with you Stevie, that can make a person act weird.’ Eddie refills his coffee. ‘He’s fine though, now, by the way.’ 

Steve nods.

‘Speakin’ of weird, after that first time you took Ed to the drive in he came back with a real bug up his ass, wouldn't stop talking about-‘ 

Wayne is stopped abruptly by Eddies hand across his mouth. 

‘Okay old man, enough with that.’ Eddie says, voice an octave higher than normal.

Steve grins as Eddie peaks over to him through his hair. Grins harder as they start to bicker, continuing to make breakfast in the tiny kitchen. 

He’s definitely planning on asking Eddie about that later. But for now, he enjoys the comforting warmth that spreads through him. The feeling of home. Of being loved. 

₊✩‧₊

sorry this is posting after the holidays but its done! we did it! hope u all enjoy!

Tag list: @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @marvel-ous-m @hickeysgodcomplex

@cheesedoctor @chickensinrainboots @chameleonhair @wheneverfeasible @hbyrde36

@bookworm0690

[bless-my-demons]

Scared of Losing You - Part 2

Paul Lahote x Reader

Summary: It was just an accident, what is the infamous big bad Paul Lahote afraid of?

Losing his imprint, that’s what.

Warnings: panic attack, curse words, buncha’ angst that ends with fluff

Notes: of course I had to write a Paul POV since you guys loved the first one! Oh I love a good bit of angst

Word count: 2300

Masterlist

Part One

Metal crunching, sirens wailing, frantic voices - they were all on a loop in my brain and I was helpless to stop it.

I could feel the eyes on me, the worried glances, but I didn’t give a shit.

“Sam, please don’t-”

“Paul, you’re wearing a hole in the floor, the doctors have it under control-” I know Sam is trying to reason with me, reason with my wolf, but I can’t take it.

“Don’t fucking tell me this shit is fine or it’s going to be fine, it’s not fucking fine!” I close my eyes and force out a breath, blowing up at my brother is not what I fucking need right now. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t, I know what you’re feeling. Imprints and rational thought don’t go together.” Sam gives me a sad, lopsided grin.

Just then, a nurse walks in the waiting room and the entire pack stands. It’s late in this po-dunk little town and we’re the only people here, she’s here about my girl.

“Are you the family of-” She starts but hesitates, eying everyone gathered.

“Yes, all of us.” Thank the ancestors for Sam taking charge, I don’t think I could force out a response past the tightness in my chest.

“She is stable,” relief floods my system, “but she remains in critical condition.” Panic, pure and thick forces its way down my throat and everything grinds to a fucking halt.

What does she mean ‘stable but critical’?

I can’t hear anything she continues to explain, the ringing in my ears too loud. Sam, I turn to my brother, watching as he focuses on the nurse and nods along. If she’s stable, why do I feel like I’m drowning?

A hand on my shoulder startles me, Jared.

The nurse must of finished her report, because Sam meets my gaze - his lips are moving, but I can’t fucking hear. He grips my shoulder and tugs me forward, into the hallway, but no one is following us.

“Breathe.” His voice is under water and distant, my vision is soda-strawed in on his mouth and I’m trying. I’m trying to understand, trying to suck in oxygen.

My lips are starting to tingle, just like my fingers.

She—I can’t—she can’t—

I can’t even string a thought together about what this means in a way that makes sense and the silence in this hallway is fucking roaring.

Sam cups the back of my neck and brings me forward so that we’re forehead to forehead, his other hand grabs my wrist to bring my hand to his chest, he exaggerates a deep breath and waits for me to follow suit.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I didn’t notice the tremor in my hands, in my arms, my body.

The ringing in my ears begins to fade.

Breathe in, breathe out.

The beeping of heart monitors and the low voices of our family begin to filter through the fog surrounding my brain.

I bring my other arm around Sam’s shoulder and pull him in for a hug, I’d be absolutely fucked without this man’s guidance.

“Thank you.” My voice is small and muffled by his thick jacket.

“Always here, brother.” He pats my back in a soothing manner and it shakes me out of the lingering stupor that had me paralyzed. “Let’s go see her.”

“See her?” I can’t contain the surprise and the hope in my voice, I get to see my girl?

“Nurse said she can have two visitors at a time, I’ll sneak the rest of the boys in later, but she needs you first.”

Following Sam down the hallway feels like a dream, a nightmare.

He stops at a door and glances over his shoulder, raises an eyebrow and pushes it open after I nod. I focus on his back as we enter the dimly lit room, but my eyes snap to the figure on the bed when I hear a small hitch in Sam’s breath.

My girl.

My imprint.

My reason for existing.

There’s so many wires. Wires running under the collar of her hospital gown, a heart rate monitor clipped to her delicate finger. Tubes, ancestors—the tubes. She has a breathing tube forced in her mouth, an IV line taped to her right forearm, but the worst yet if that’s even possible—my eyes burn at the sight of a larger gage tube peeking out from the left side of her gown currently draining into a clear container of blood at her bedside. There’s swelling and the beginning of bruising around her left eye that makes me shudder. And fuck, all the cuts, my eyes scan over every inch of exposed skin. The fucking cast on her right leg.

My sweet, sweet girl.

I take a shuddering breath as Sam scoots a chair within my reach, I tug it towards the end of her bed—afraid to touch her anywhere other than the uninjured real estate of her body, which leaves me with her left ankle. I wrap my hand around it and frown at how cold her skin is. I’m here, I’ll warm you up.

Sam pulls up on the other side of the bed facing her, “Three cracked ribs, a fractured orbital bone, a punctured lung, and a broken tibia. They’re worried about the lung, it’s been sutured, they’re monitoring the chest tube output.” He scrubs a hand down his face, “she’s sedated for her own comfort, which is why she’s intubated. To give her some rest.”

I squeeze my eyes closed as he lists everything, why my girl? My imprint? Before we’ve… even had a chance? A tear slides down my cheek and clings to my chin annoyingly.

“Paul, she’s going to make it,” my eyes snap open, ready to chew him out because fucking look at her, but he continues, “she’s banged up to hell and back, but the docs are confident she’ll recover. She just needs you and some rest.”

I glance at her and send a prayer up to the ancestors, please let them be right. I’ve never asked for anything, but I’m asking for her.

“She is strong, has to be if she’s yours.” He gives a half-assed chuckle that barely lifts the corner of my mouth.

“Ancestors know, she’s got a handful to deal with if she ever accepts the bond.” I can tell my tone is sad and I wince.

“You have to give her the chance, but I know she will.”

My eyes snap to his.

“Don’t give me that look, that girl is head over heels for you.” He dared to fucking smirk.

“H-how could you possibly know that-”

“She looks at you the same way Kim looks at Jared, same look I see in Em’s eyes every day, you’re just fucking blind.” Sam states it like it’s a matter-of-fact.

I huff, no fucking way.

“Huff all you want, but you brother, are lovable—contrary to your own hard-headed belief. And you already love her.”

“Of course I fucking do, she’s meant for me.”

“Meant for you, that’s what the imprinting tells us. But I’m talking about the love sick puppy eyes you follow her around with-”

“I don’t-” But he cuts me off.

“You do and you’re not as covert with it as you think you are.”

He’s right, I can’t fucking argue with that.

“How do you do it?” I ask him abruptly.

“Do what?” I can feel his eyes on me.

“Sit here, useless, like this. With her, like that.” My voice is quiet, afraid.

“It’s not easy,” he sighs and leans back in his plastic chair, “but you do it because she needs you, she’s the center of your gravity now, the reason behind everything we do. So we wait, together.”

I nod along, folding my arms and settling in to watch the steady rise and fall of her chest.

I’m here baby, I’m here.

Soft mummering slowly starts to peck at my awareness, the dull pain beginning to flare in my back from being hunched over the foot of this hospital bed.

“How long have I been here?” Her scratchy voice wraps around my heart and squeezes.

Her heart rate ticks up audibly on the monitor and I lift my head to answer her, “Three days.”

I squeeze her uninjured ankle gently, so fucking glad to finally see those eyes.

“Going for coffee, I’ll bring you back one.” Sam turns to kick the boys awake and it causes her to giggle, fuck I missed that sound.

As they leave and the door clicks shut, a heavy tension settles over the room causing my heart to leap into my throat.

“Sweetheart.” I opt for being gentle, she won’t meet my eyes so I swipe my thumb over the skin of her ankle.

Her eyes meet mine and I list off her injuries, needing to get the information out of the way before I fuck all of this up with my feelings, but I can’t finish the sentence—the feeling of helplessness crashes back into me.

“Paul,” I close my eyes and inhale at how gently she utters my name, “Paul.” She’s serious now, I turn to her with the beginnings of tears causing my vision to swim. Why can’t I fucking do this?

“I’m still here, what are you so scared of?” Her voice is so small, the insanity of her question pulls a laugh from my chest.

I rub at my temples and mumble a “You.” Hoping she wouldn’t catch it, terrified she would.

“What?” Surprise, she’s genuinely surprised.

“You.” My eyes lock onto hers with full force and my resolve steals a bit. “You’ve… you’ve wormed your way in here-” my chest is on fire and her breath hitches, “and I was scared. Am scared.” Pausing to gather my thoughts, the tension is thick, “your car, seeing it flipped… it’s like the world stopped and I couldn’t hear anything-couldn’t think straight, but watching you getting pulled out, I-” I groan out of frustration. “I-I-” I stutter like a fucking idiot, get a grip. “So I haven’t left. Can’t. I can’t even think of leaving this room let alone going home and just being useless-”

“Paul, I’m fine.” She tries to reach for my hands, but she stops mid-motion and lets out a small gasp, her ribs.

“Please don’t do that, don’t say that, you weren’t awake when they brought you in with that fucking tube down your throat-” my hands start trembling and I stop. “You weren’t fine and nothing-nothing else matters.” I finish with a whisper.

Her chin starts to wobble.

Fuck.

“Sweetheart,” I rise from my chair and cup her delicate cheeks, mindful of the scratches and bandages. “Sweetheart, please…” I swipe my thumb over her cheekbone to try and soothe her, but a tear spills over and threatens to stop my heart.

“I’m so sorry.” Her voice wobbles and it spears me right down to my soul.

I lean down further, pressing me forehead to her own, my nose barely brushing hers. The heart rate monitor picks up in speed and I grin, I affect her.

“I’m the one that’s sorry.” I admit quietly, before I lose my confidence. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you sooner how I’ve felt.”

She stops breathing all together, my lips brush her cheek as I whisper into her ear, “breathe.” She immediately gulps oxygen down.

What a good girl.

After a few seconds, her unusual quietness and my anxiety gets the better of me, “You don’t have to say anything-”

“Kiss me?”

I’m done for.

Box me up and throw me in the ground.

Kiss me? Kiss her? Is this real?

She’s like gravity and I’m helpless to resist her pull, I tilt her chin upwards and I search her face—committing this moment to memory for all of eternity.

“If you-” I can’t even let her finish the thought.

Heaven, this is what heaven is like. Has to be.

My mouth seals over hers and immediately I know nothing could top this, top the feel of how goddamn perfect we fit together.

I pull back because I know she needs oxygen, her monitors are beeping erratically all over the place. But she whimpers, fucking whimpers and chases my mouth.

Ancestors—she’s got me hook, line, and sinker.

I take pity on her and lean in with a chuckle before taking her mouth again. Fuck, how on earth have I managed to wait this long for this? I fear I could kiss her all day long and then some, ravish her from sun up to sun down and still not find it in me to stop.

My hands gently slide into her hair, I can’t fucking help it. A gasp from her punches right through my sanity and I shiver. I’m on auto-pilot and I seize the opportunity to lick past her lips and I fucking moan at how goddamn perfect she is.

She’s in the hospital. For a lot of injuries. She’s in pain. A lot of pain and on a lot of medications.

I managed to rip myself away and force my feet to pace around the end of her bed, get a fucking grip Lahote.

“Too much?” Her beautiful lips tilt in a shit eating grin, she knows.

Too much? Not fucking enough.

Before I could think of how to respond, Emily pushed the door open with a soft rap of her fist against the wood “knock, knock.”

Emily is like a soothing balm over my frayed nerves, always has been.

“Come in.” I tell her as I push my chair closer so that I can take her much smaller hand in mine, careful of the IV taped to the back of her hand. I can feel a satisfied grin overtaking my mouth as my eyes glue to our joined hands.

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