#action romance

[azuremeia]

Stealing The Show

Summary: "You got me a present? Wow, thanks. Oh yeah, you free after this Senpai?" - Sho's birthday voiceline.

Summary: "You got me a present? Wow, thanks. Oh yeah, you free after this Senpai?" - Sho's birthday voiceline (yes i’m lazy to put actual summary)

The faint roar of Bonnie’s engine reached you before you saw him. Sho was leaning casually against his motorcycle, hands shoved deep into his pocket jeans like he had all the time in the world. His smirk was already in place when his blue eyes found you.

“There you are. You planning to keep me waiting on my birthday?”

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “I’m right on time.”

“Mm. If you say so.”

You took a breath and pulled the small wrapped box from behind your back. “Here. This is for you.”

His brows rose, and for once, that cocky expression cracked. “You got me a present?”

He ripped the wrapping without hesitation and revealed the silver bracelet, engraved with tiny flame patterns. The way he stared at it made your chest warm.

“…Wow. Thanks. You didn’t have to, Senpai.”

“Of course I did,” you said, flustered. “It’s your birthday.”

His grin returned, sharper. “Guess I owe you one. Or maybe…” He leaned in close, “…you just wanted an excuse to spend more time with me.”

Heat rushed to your face. “That’s not—!”

Sho only chuckled and swung onto Bonnie, revving the engine. “You free after this?”

“…I suppose.”

“Good. You’re coming with me.” he said, tilting his head with that cocky grin of his. He handed you a spare helmet.

“Excited much?” you teased as you climbed on behind him, trying to ignore how your heart sped up at the closeness.

“Of course. Been stuck in that academy long enough. Today’s my day.” He smirked.

And just like that, you were on the seat behind him, arms wrapped around his waist, as the bike roared toward the city lights.

· · · · ──────────── ·✶· ──────────── · · · ·

By the time you both parked near the ramen shop, the sun had dipped low, replaced by neon buzzing signs.

“Birthday dinner,” Sho said casually, tossing his keys in one hand. “Ramen’s on me.”

You laughed. “So much for fine dining.”

“Hey. Ramen’s a classic. Don’t complain.”

Inside, the air was warm with the scent of broth and chatter. You and Sho dug into steaming bowls, and he leaned over his palm holding the chopsticks, smirking as you blew on your noodles.

“You better finish that,” he teased. “I’m not carrying you back.”

You were about to retort when your gaze caught on a table nearby—a group of drunk men crowding a girl in a high school uniform. She shrank into her seat as they laughed and leaned too close. Your hands clenched.

Sho followed your glare and immediately frowned. “Don’t,” he muttered. “It’s not our problem.”

“She’s scared. No one’s helping her.”

“Senpai.” His voice lowered, warning. “Don’t do anything reckless.”

But your chair scraped before he finished.

“Oi,” you called, walking to their table. “Leave her alone.”

All three turned, eyes gleaming with mischief. One sneered. “Well, look what we got here. A fiery one, you her friend?”

“Something like that,” you said firmly. “Now back off.”

Instead of listening, they smirked. “Maybe we’ll keep you company instead.”

The heat in your chest boiled over. A sharp crack echoed as you punched one square in the jaw. He stumbled back, clutching his face in shock. Gasps filled the shop. The second man snarled and raised his arm—

But Sho was already there, blocking the swing with ease. His smirk flashed sideways at you. “Now you’re stealing the show, huh?”

The air was thick with tension, broken only by the furious owner storming in. “OUT! All of you! OUT before I call the cops!”

The drunkards stumbled away, grumbling. You, Sho, and the girl were shoved outside into the street, the warm bowls of ramen left unfinished.

“I-I’m so sorry,” she stammered. “Thank you for helping me!”

You softened, giving her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it. Wanna grab ice cream with us?”

Sho sighed loudly behind you and said, “Unbelievable.” but he didn’t argue further. Soon, the three of you were seated on a bench outside a convenience store, eating cones under the glow of a flickering streetlamp.

· · · · ──────────── ·✶· ──────────── · · · ·

The girl giggled nervously as you and Sho bickered over whose ice cream was bigger. For a brief, strange moment, it felt like a third-wheel date for the girl—Sho teasing you, you shoving his shoulder, and the girl laughing like she’d accidentally stumbled into a romcom.

When she finally stood, she bowed deeply. “Thank you again, big sis and big brother! I’ll never forget this!”

You waved her off with a smile. As soon as she was gone, Sho sighed, leaning back. “You’re honestly a chaos.”

You laughed. “I couldn’t just ignore it. Someone had to help.”

His lips curved slowly into a smirk—not sharp this time, but softer. “…Yeah. Figures. Maybe that’s what I like about you.”

Your breath caught. Did he really just—? But before you could press him, he was already standing, hands in his pockets. “C’mon. Still got one last stop.”

· · · · ──────────── ·✶· ──────────── · · · ·

The ride back was quieter, the city fading into the dark countryside until Bonnie finally stopped at a cliff overlooking the twinkling lights below. The ocean stretched endlessly, reflecting the moonlight like silver glass and the night air was cool, brushing against your skin as you slid off the bike.

You turned to stretch, but Sho’s hand caught your wrist.

“Hey.” His voice was low, softer than before. “Thanks… for today. For the present and for being here. Also a crazy day, huh? Didn’t think my birthday would end with a fistfight and free ice cream.”

You blinked at him, surprised.

“It was supposed to be my spotlight,” he continued, blue eyes steady on yours. “But you stole it. And I don’t mind. I wouldn’t mind if you stole it every damn time.”

For once, his usual cocky smirk faltered, replaced by something gentler. He stepped closer, the faint scent of broth and motor oil still clinging to him. His hand brushed against yours, tentative, before he leaned in.

The kiss was slow at first, almost questioning, then it deepened, warm and certain, stealing the breath from your lungs.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. His grin returned, but softer this time. “That’s the best gift I could ever ask for.”

Your entire face burned. Words tangled on your tongue, refusing to form, and Sho only laughed at your flustered state.

⌯⌲ Inspo song: Steal the Show by Lauv

⌯⌲ Ao3

[noobiestnoober]

Coincidence, My Ass (Jake X Reader)

You thought being saved during a bioterror outbreak was wild enough… until Jake Muller kept reappearing in your life like a six-foot-tall walking coincidence. From your hospital bed to your coffee shop shift, to literally moving in next door—he’s always just there. With a smirk. And suspicious timing.

It’s giving: 👀 He’s definitely not stalking you 😤 You definitely don’t like him (okay, maybe a little) 🐱 He saved your cat once—zero chill about it 💥 There may or may not be a conspiracy unfolding around you

💬 Expect sharp-tongued banter, accidental soft moments, and that slow-burn tension that makes you yell at your screen.

You were just another civilian when the bioterror outbreak hit. Chaos erupted like wildfire—people screaming, infected tearing through the streets, and the world collapsing into a living nightmare. You were cornered in a half-destroyed alleyway, bruised and breathless, a mutated J'avo snarling just inches from your face, when he appeared out of nowhere. Rugged, cocky, and infuriatingly smug, Jake Muller dropped in like some bootleg action hero, shot the thing mid-leap, and turned to you with a smirk that could cut glass.

"You owe me dinner, sweetheart," he said.

You thought that was the last you'd see of him. Just another weirdly attractive mercenary passing through your nightmare. But fate—or something more persistent—had other plans. First, he popped up at the hospital where you were being treated, casually leaning against the doorway with a smirk and an energy drink. Then he showed up again, weeks later, as a customer at the local coffee shop you’d started working at to regain some normalcy. And again, standing suspiciously close to your apartment building, claiming he was visiting a friend. You didn’t believe him, but he just winked and strolled off. And now? He’s your next-door neighbor. Because of course he is.

Every single time, it’s written off as a “coincidence.” Jake never outright admits to following you. But he doesn’t deny it either. Somehow, whenever things start going sideways—like when your apartment gets broken into but nothing’s stolen, or when you find your tires mysteriously slashed—Jake is just... there. Leaning against the wall with that damned smirk, offering casual advice or making sarcastic comments while clearly scanning the perimeter.

You try to confront him. He brushes you off. You accuse him of stalking, and he deflects with something like, “If I were stalking you, you wouldn’t notice.” It’s maddening. But also… kind of comforting. Against your better judgment, you begin to rely on his presence. And maybe—even worse—you begin to look forward to it.

The longer this continues, the more complicated it gets. There’s tension—snarky, loaded, and lingering. You challenge him at every turn, and he matches you blow for blow, his sarcasm keeping pace with your sass. He breaks into your apartment once, “just to check the locks.” You nearly pepper spray him—he laughs and calls you adorable. He teaches you how to disarm someone using a hairdryer with mock-serious enthusiasm. You teach him how to make a latte and scold him for using too much milk. He rescues your cat from a literal fire and calls it “an annoying fluffball,” but you catch the way he scratches behind her ears when he thinks you’re not looking.

Through it all, a maddening, slow-growing affection simmers. A relationship built on banter, sharp glances, and long silences where unspoken feelings crackle in the air like static.

As the nights grow stranger and danger creeps closer, the pattern becomes harder to ignore. What felt like quirky coincidences now look like calculated patterns. Jake isn't just sticking around for fun.

Eventually, you come to two inevitable conclusions:

You might—just might—actually like the infuriating bastard.

The things happening around you aren’t random, and Jake Muller isn’t here out of boredom. Something bigger is at play—and somehow, you’re at the center of it. Jake? He’s your reluctant protector… and maybe something more.

The End...?

Nah... if you want an ending of your own choice, all you got to do is comment down below and make a request on what type of ending you want. I'll make multiple endings based on your requests. ❤️😉

Ending 1 of 1

✨ Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, reblog, like, or leave a comment—your support means everything!

— Do not repost. Reblogs appreciated! Requests & feedback welcome!

“For all fandoms, check my [Masterlists Here]!” and “More Resident Evil fics? [Resident Evil Masterlist]”

[samara-exe]

Calypsox(Fem)Reader One Shot

Gif from @fortheloveofaminorcharacter

Here's is yet another CalypsoxReader!!! I fucking love this man. Please, don't come for me lmao

Reader survives her first battle round of the tournament, bloodied but victorious. As they climb out of their vehicle, Calypso appears at the edge of the arena, slow-clapping, his praise laced with something darker, as if he's watching her body as much as her skill.

Blood on the Asphalt

Engines screamed through the night, the smell of gasoline and gunpowder burning the back of her throat. The arena was nothing but a concrete wasteland, a forgotten stretch of highway lined with the corpses of old buildings and the echoes of past battles. Headlights carved through smoke as cars tore past each other like predators circling prey.

Her knuckles were white on the wheel. Every bump of the cracked asphalt rattled her bones, every bullet ricochet that pinged off her dented hood was another reminder that she had no room for mistakes. The tournament didn't forgive the weak.

A vehicle roared up behind her - a spiked metal car, it's grill snarling like some metal beast. She swerved, but not fast enough. The impact slammed into her rear, jolting her forward so hard her teeth cracked together. The wheel twisted in her hands, nearly breaking her grip.

"Come on, come on," she muttered under her breath, sweat streaking down her temple as sparks flew in her rearview.

The rival pulled up alongside her, gunner leaning out the passenger window, shotgun aimed at her tires. She didn't think - just slammed her car hard to the right. Metal screamed as the two vehicles kissed, grinding against each other, showering the road with sparks.

Her breath hitched when pain shot through her shoulder - a stray bullet had clipped her. Heat and fire burned through the flesh, and her vision blurred for a second. She grit her teeth, swallowing a scream, refusing to let her hands falter on the wheel.

No time to bleed. No time to stop.

The muscle car pressed her toward a crumbling wall. Her chest tightened as concrete loomed closer, closer -

She slammed her emergency brake, jerking her car sideways in a spin. Tires shrieked, her vehicle whipping in a full arc. The spiked muscle car overshot, driver caught off guard. In that second, she jammed her thumb on the detonator switch she'd rigged earlier.

The mine bounced under his tires.

The explosion swallowed the rival's car in a blossoming flower of fire and smoke. The shockwave rattled her insides, her already battered shoulder screaming in agony as she wrestled the wheel to steady her skidding vehicle.

When the smoke cleared, the rival's car was nothing but burning wreckage. Silence fell heavy after the roar, broken only by the low hiss of her engine struggling to breathe.

She sat back in her seat, chest heaving, one hand pressed to her bleeding shoulder. Her skin was slick with sweat and soot. She'd won. Somehow. But she felt more corpse than victor.

Then slow, deliberate applause broke the silence.

Her head jerked up. He was there.

Calypso.

Standing at the edge of the arena as if the fire had called him, as if the smoke itself parted just enough to let him through. The sharp lines of his suit caught the flickering light, shadows wrapping around him like a lover. His smile was cruel, indulgent, and utterly intoxicating.

"Well done," he drawled, voice smooth enough to cut through the ringing in her ears. "You bleed, you burn, you scrape against death itself... and still you rise."

She tried to glare, but her heart betrayed her - beating too fast, too loud. His gaze was heavy, stripping her bare where she sat slumped in the driver's seat. He looked at her as though her pain was performance, her perseverance a dance meant for him alone.

He moved closer, footsteps unhurried, savoring the wreckage around him. Flames licked the air, broken glass crunched beneath his shoes. When he reached her car, he leaned casually against the driver's side door, just inches from where her trembling hand still clutched the wheel.

"You fascinate me," Calypso murmured, tilting his head as his eyes roamed her bloodied face, her shaking frame. "So fragile... and yet so relentless. Do you know how rare that is in my little game?"

His hand slid across the door, fingertips brushing closer to her arm. She flinched when he nearly touched her wound, but he only smiled, as if her pain pleased him.

"You wonder why you're still alive. Why the bullets missed your heart. Why the fire spared you." His grin widened, wicked, knowing. "The truth is, my sweet... is that I wanted to watch you fight. I wanted to watch you suffer. And I wanted to watch you win."

Her throat tightened, words caught somewhere between defiance and need. The heat of the battle hadn't left her, and now it twisted with something darker, heavier, with him so close.

Calypso leaned in, breath ghosting against her ear. "And you did not disappoint."

For a moment, the pain in her shoulder, the taste of smoke in her lungs - all of it faded under the weight of his presence. Every nerve screamed alive, every part of her torn between recoiling and leaning closer.

He chuckled low, stepping back just enough to let her breathe, though his eyes stayed locked on her like chains. "Rest well, darling competitor. You'll need your strength for what comes next."

Then he turned, vanishing into the fire and smoke as easily as if he belonged to it.

She lumped back in her seat, blood dripping down her arm, but her heart wouldn't slow. Not from victory. Not from fear.

But from him.

God I love this man so much.

Thank you so much for reading!💜  If you enjoyed this piece, there's plenty more where that came from, and I'll be adding to my collection as time goes on. I'm always open to suggestions and requests – so if there's something you'd like to see, don't be shy about sharing it with me! I'll do my best to deliver (within reason, of course – nothing too intense or overly triggering).

Your support means the world. ✨

Post Master List

[death-cheater]

[ragbatskribblez]

[OC] Altered a drawing of Leroi from last year to make it look more like my current art style :D

[barcode-04]

RELIC — a dark action thriller

Kim Jihoon spent 10 years as Escra Barcode 04.

500 missions. 300 sanctions.

A cane made of human bone.

Now he has one year to survive high school in Seoul.

The girl next to him named him before she knew his name.

He saved her contact as [Apple]. Because of her shampoo.

Neither of them will admit what that means.

"Friends are just targets with names."

"A soul is expensive. But a funeral is free."

🐯 free on Wattpad — search RELIC Or find it in the description!

[eternalelegancearchive]