#Binge watching instead of writing

[lobotomy-lady]

I am on a "mildly trashy TV shows that were super popular 20 years ago" kick & i cannot STAND those on again off again romances that seem to plague it (meredith & derek, carrie & big) like it is so exhausting idc if it's realistic it just sucks. I actually hate an exes to lovers again story in any capacity, even if it's only a single breakup & not a terrible tedious series of breakups. I've seen a lot of popular modern romance novels on goodreads with descriptions like "so & so called it off ages ago but now they're on a vacation together with friends and old feelings are stirring back up" I literally can't think of anything more boring. second chance romance is a shit trope. the only interesting part of the genre to me is two characters developing feelings for each other for the first time & seeing how that plays out. just give the characters new love interests & have them wistfully imagine their ex being hit by a bus . much more relatable

[hoshifighting]

how seventeen would act with reader having daddy issues

WARNINGS: it may be sensitive to some people, and there are mentions of past traumas and family issues. mostly of it is basically, seventeen and their family taking care of you <3

a/n: this was an ask that was in my inbox for a long time, sorry about this 🥺 and worse, I was writing it, and the light have gone off, so ivé lost the drabble and I cant find in my inbox, I just know that it was from my bestie hannieween, sorry about the long time 🥺🙏 I hope you like it

seungcheol: already planning how to spoil you just to make up for what you didn’t get. this man would not let you suffer through those awkward, tense family reunions. the second you even hint at feeling uncomfortable, he’s pulling you out of there and taking you straight to his family’s place. his dad, a total sweetheart. he’s the type to sit you down, ask how you’re doing, and genuinely listen. and that’s when it hits you—this is where seungcheol gets his protective streak. his dad’s got the same energy, always making sure you’re taken care of. it’s like you’re part of their family now, and honestly, it feels better than anything you’ve ever known.

jeonghan: he’s sneaky about it, but in the most loving way. like, he knows you’ve got that hole where support should be, and he’s filling it without making it obvious. he’d get his mom and dad to invite you over for a casual dinner, but then it’s all about you. “oh, y/n loves pasta, mom,” he’d say, nudging you under the table when you get shy. his parents adore you, and jeonghan’s sitting back, watching you laugh at his dad’s corny jokes with this smug little grin, like, yeah, that’s my baby.

joshua: he’d plan random trips to his family’s place, just so you can hang out with his mom. like, one weekend, you’re baking cookies with his mom, and the next, you’re playing guitar with his uncle. josh is always hovering, making sure you’re comfortable, but lowkey beaming when he sees you getting along with his family. he’s super patient, too—he never pushes, just waits for you to open up when you’re ready. and when you do... he’s holding your hand, whispering, “see? they love you, just like i do.”

junhui: he’d make sure you feel like you belong there too. he’d take you home during the holidays, and suddenly, his mom’s treating you like her own kid. jun would sit next to you at dinner, quietly making sure you’re okay, squeezing your hand under the table whenever he notices you getting overwhelmed. he’s just sitting there, watching it all unfold, thinking, yeah, this is what you deserve.

hoshi: this man would straight-up share his dad with you. like, he’d plan trips for the three of you—fishing, hiking, picnics, you name it. and he’d be so proud when you start opening up to his dad. he gets that it’s gonna take time, but when he sees you laughing at his dad’s terrible puns, he’s smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. sometimes, when hoshi’s away for schedules, you’d even hang out with his dad without him. he’ll be texting you like, “my dad loves you more than me now 😭.” and even when he’s away for work, his family still makes time for you, calling you over to hang out or have dinner.

woozi: jihoon’s not big on family talk, but he knows you are, and he gets it. instead of dragging you into his family stuff, he makes a point of creating a new kind of support for you. like, you want to skip a stressful family dinner? cool, you’re spending the night at his place, binge-watching your favorite shows and eating takeout. he’s not one for big gestures, but he makes sure you always know you’re not alone. his quiet, steady presence is the comfort you never knew you needed.

wonwoo: he’d just sit there, letting you talk, and then hit you with the most thoughtful response ever, like, “you didn’t deserve that, but you deserve everything good now. let me be that for you.” giving you the world’s warmest hug, he’d probably start joking about being your emotional support cat forever.

minghao: he fully believes in breaking cycles, so he’s the guy who helps you redefine what family even means. he’d take you to meet his ambient, his friends, his family, everywhere where he KNOWS you'll be taken care off. he’d also start little traditions with you, like Sunday morning walks or trying new restaurants, just to build something stable and comforting for you. he's not trying to be your dad—of course. but he's trying to make programs that he remembered doing with his dad and that somehow, marked his trajectory. he wants you to experience that too.

mingyu: when shit gets heavy, he doesn’t try to fix it all at once—he just sits with you, lets you cry on his shoulder, strokes your hair, and whispers, “you’re not alone, okay? you’ve got me.” when you’re ready, he’s like, “now, what do you want to do about it?” and he’ll back you no matter what. he’ll drag you out to do the most random shit—karaoke, late-night drives, baking cookies at 2 a.m.—just so you’re not stuck in your head. and when you thank him later, he’s like, “who, me? nah nah.”

seokmin: he is the kind of guy who’ll carry you—literally. if you’re overwhelmed, he’ll scoop you up like you weigh nothing and plant you on the couch with snacks, a blanket, and whatever dumb movie he picked. “you don’t need to do anything today,” he says, plopping down beside you with the softest smile. but also, he won’t sugarcoat things, but he also doesn’t let you get stuck in negative self-talk. “you’re worth more than what he made you feel.”

seungkwan: got a sixth sense for this kinda thing. you don’t even have to say the words—he knows. he’s the type to gently steer the convo every time someone in your family says something shitty, or he’ll swoop in with some sarcastic-ass joke to take the heat off you. but when it’s just the two of you, he’s soft as hell, cuddling you, stroking your hair, and reminding you that he’s your safe space now. he’d probably even offer to go with you to therapy, just to sit there and hold your hand.b

vernon: he’ll say the goofiest shit to make you laugh—like doing terrible impressions of your least favorite family members or purposely messing up on kendama. doesn’t even try to hide how much he loves you. when you’re down, he’s the type to turn everything into a you’re amazing campaign. random notes in your bag, impromptu “you’re so cool” chants, and hugs so tight they might crack your ribs.

chan: baby’s the sweetest. he’s lowkey hurt that you’ve had to deal with that kind of stuff, so he makes it his mission to show you what love and support really look like. chan’s family would love you, and he’d be so excited to share them with you. he’d plan little visits where it’s just you, him, and his parents, so it’s not overwhelming. later, he’d check in, like, “did you have fun? was it okay?” because all he wants is for you to feel loved and safe.

[formulaonecrumbs]

hi!! i’ve just like binge read all of your stuff and it’s so beautifully written

do you think you could do a charles fic with the co-parenting to lovers trope? like their kid helps them get together or like he flys out to see their kid and realizes that life is so much better with them? i have a whole like plot im sorry 😭

stay a little longer 🕯️

Charles Leclerc x ex(?)!reader

summary: co-parenting finally turns into something more when their daughter decides it’s time for a date.

warnings: co-parenting to lovers, kid matchmaker, suggestive content, kissing, car makeout, implied smut, love confessions, second chances

A/N: thank u anon for the requuessttt!!! i feel like i still don’t write charles very well 😭 like yes i believe the guy is romantic but i think i made that his whole personality in this WHOOPS. random but i love when drivers have girlfriends cuz now i got sm material for the mood-boards. i hope u enjoy it and as always love u ❤️

༻ ❤︎︎ ༺

you never expected him to show up.

not like this, not without warning, not with that soft look in his eyes and a suitcase in his hand.

it’s been almost six months since you saw charles leclerc in person. six months since he kissed your cheek at the airport and promised he’d try to visit more. six months of facetime calls with your daughter holding your phone too close to her face, grinning with her tiny teeth and telling him she lost another one. six months of you pretending that you were completely fine raising her mostly alone while he chased podiums around the world.

but now he’s standing on your porch like it’s nothing. like he’s not the father of your child and also the person who once broke your heart in the softest, most unintentional way.

��hi,” he says.

you blink. “charles? what—what are you doing here?”

he looks down at his shoes. he’s wearing sneakers that used to live in your hallway. the ones your daughter would trip over every time she tried to run to the door. “i had a week off. i wanted to see her.”

you let him in because you always do. because she misses him even when she doesn’t say it, and because you’ve never been able to fully close the door on him.

your daughter screams ‘daddy!’ the second she hears him. he drops his bag and catches her mid-run, spinning her around in the tiny living room you’ve made your home. you watch from the kitchen, hands still on the mug you were making, heart doing something stupid and warm and dangerous in your chest.

“you’re not leaving tonight, are you?” she asks him, small hands on his cheeks.

he shakes his head. “not tonight. not for a few days, actually.”

and you swear, you see her little face light up with something more than excitement. something like hope.

it’s not supposed to be easy, but it is.

charles fits back into your space like he never left. he sleeps on the couch and does the dishes after dinner. he drives her to school in the mornings and makes up silly songs about brushing her teeth. he folds laundry while you’re at work and lets her paint his nails on the weekends.

and you keep waiting for it to feel like a mistake. to feel like a tease, like you’re slipping back into something that already ended.

but instead, it feels like healing.

like late nights where he sits across from you, whispering stories about races she’s too young to hear. like laughing over wine after she’s gone to bed, both of you tipsy on nostalgia and something heavier. something that tastes like maybe.

he doesn’t flirt. not really. but sometimes, he looks at you like he remembers every moment you ever shared. and sometimes, when he thinks you’re not paying attention, he stares at you like you hung the stars.

it happens on a tuesday.

you’re rushing to get out the door for work. your daughter can’t find her other shoe and you’ve already yelled twice, which always makes you feel like a terrible mother. charles is standing in the kitchen, packing her lunch like he’s done it every morning for the past year instead of the last five days.

and then she says it.

“daddy, are you staying forever now?”

you freeze. so does he.

“because i think you should,” she continues, completely unaware of the tension she’s stirred up. “you make mommy laugh again. and you’re really good at pancakes.”

charles doesn’t look at you. he kneels down and kisses her forehead. “i love you, chérie,” he says quietly.

you don’t talk about it.

not until later, when she’s asleep and you’re both sitting on the back steps with a blanket around your shoulders and the sky full of stars.

“she wants us to be a family,” you whisper.

charles’s voice is soft. “i do too.”

your chest tightens. “charles…”

“i know,” he says. “i know i left. i know i haven’t been here like i should have. and i’m not trying to ask you to just forget it. but i want to be here now. not just for her. for you, too.”

you stare at your hands. your heart. the little cracks that never quite healed after he left.

“why now?” you ask.

he takes a breath. “because every time i see her smile, i see you. and every time i talk to her, i wish you were beside me. and because… i thought i was doing the right thing. giving you space. letting you live your life without the mess of mine. but i’ve never been more wrong.”

you look at him. really look. and he looks scared. vulnerable in a way he never is behind the wheel. and you realize, in this quiet moment under the stars, that maybe you’ve been scared too.

you don’t say anything. you just reach out, take his hand, and let your fingers intertwine like they never stopped knowing how to.

he moves in slowly.

a toothbrush at first. then a drawer. then he’s picking her up from school without you asking, buying groceries like he knows the list by heart. you fall back into love like it’s muscle memory. slow, steady, familiar. this time, without the fear.

your daughter starts calling you her “mommy and daddy house.” she draws pictures of the three of you holding hands, all smiling with the sun in the corner.

one night, she asks if you and daddy are married again.

charles chuckles. “not yet, chérie.”

you shoot him a look. “not funny.”

he leans in, his voice low against your ear. “it could be.”

and you feel it again—that dangerous, stupid hope that maybe this time, it’s real.

because he came back. because he stayed. because your little girl believed in love enough to put it back together. and because this time, you’re ready to believe in it too.

༻ ❤︎︎ ༺

she catches you holding his hand in the kitchen.

it’s not a big deal, really. just fingers brushing as you pass him the milk. but charles catches your pinky with his, gives it a gentle squeeze, and you smile in that way you only ever do with him.

your daughter sees it all from her seat at the table, eating cereal like it’s the most important meal of her life.

“are you guys in love again?” she asks, spoon halfway to her mouth.

charles pauses, milk almost spilling over the edge of his glass. “what?”

“you heard me,” she says, chewing dramatically.

you shoot charles a look. he shrugs, trying not to laugh.

“i think you are,” she continues, totally unfazed. “you look at each other like the people in mommy’s movies. and you sleep on the couch together sometimes. and daddy made you pancakes in a heart shape.”

you can’t even deny that one. he really did.

“okay,” she says, pushing her bowl away. “it’s time.”

“time for what?” you ask, even though you already know.

“you’re going on a date.”

charles raises an eyebrow. “we are?”

she nods. “yes. i’ll stay with mamie. and you two can go somewhere fancy. with candles and music. and then you’ll kiss.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “what is it with you and kissing lately?”

she grins. “uncle pierre says it’s how people fall in love.”

charles makes a face. “i’m going to block his number.”

you get ready while she helps charles pick out a shirt. you hear her scolding him for choosing the boring grey one and insisting he wears the one with the tiny flowers because “mommy likes when you look like a soft boy.”

you come out in a dress that hasn’t seen the light of day in years and charles just stands there, looking like he forgot how to breathe.

“wow,” he says softly. “you look…”

you raise a brow. “like a soft girl?”

he laughs. “like the girl i’ve been in love with since before i even knew it.”

you blink.

he smiles, nervous and sweet and very charles. “too much?”

“no,” you say, cheeks warm. “just enough.”

you drive to a little italian restaurant tucked away in the quieter part of town. it’s dimly lit, with fairy lights above the patio and old music playing inside. it’s romantic in a kind of unintentional way. the kind of place that doesn’t try too hard because it doesn’t need to.

charles pulls your chair out for you and keeps glancing across the table like he’s still trying to figure out if this is real.

“this feels weird,” you say, sipping your wine. “in a good way. but weird.”

he nods. “like we’re pretending we’re not already a family.”

you smile. “yeah.”

“but i want this too,” he adds, eyes soft. “the dating part. the butterflies.”

you meet his gaze. “you still get butterflies?”

he reaches across the table, lacing your fingers with his. “every time you look at me like this.”

and god, you feel it too. that flutter. that full-body warmth that only ever comes when you’re really, really falling.

after dinner, he takes your hand and suggests a walk. it’s chilly but not cold, and the stars are out like someone painted them just for tonight.

“this is the part where we kiss under the moonlight,” you joke, bumping your shoulder into his.

charles stops walking.

“what?” you ask, turning.

he steps closer. “i was waiting for the right moment.”

your breath catches. “is this it?”

he nods, eyes flicking to your mouth. “yeah. i think it is.”

and when he kisses you, it’s slow and soft and everything you’ve been missing for years. it’s full of promises and apologies and second chances. it tastes like wine and laughter and home.

you stay like that for a long time, under the stars and the streetlamp, kissing like you’re twenty and just discovering how good it feels to be wanted.

when you get home, the lights are low and the house is quiet. your daughter is asleep, curled up in her bed with her stuffed giraffe and the nightlight glowing faintly beside her.

charles shuts the door gently behind you.

you turn to him, heart racing, still a little breathless from the night.

“so…” you whisper.

he walks toward you, slow, eyes locked on yours. “so.”

“was this the part where we’re supposed to kiss again?”

he nods, grinning. “definitely.”

he backs you into the couch and kisses you until you’re both laughing and gasping and tangled in each other. his hands in your hair, your arms around his neck, the world spinning just slightly off its axis in the best way.

“we probably shouldn’t wake her,” you mumble against his mouth.

“then we’ll be quiet,” he whispers back, kissing down your neck.

you end up in the car—because it’s late and you can’t quite make it upstairs, and also because there’s something wildly thrilling about being wrapped around each other in the dark leather seats, trying not to fog up the windows too much.

his hands on your thighs, your lips tracing every freckle on his collarbone, his voice low and hoarse as he says your name like a prayer.

after, you sit in the front seat, legs curled into his lap, his hand resting gently on your bare knee.

“we should do this again,” you say, grinning against his shoulder.

charles kisses your temple. “i plan on it.”

and you believe him. completely.

because this time, he’s not just here for the night. this time, he’s here to stay.

THE END :>

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Metanoia ;

Aemond Targaryen x Transmigrated!Strong!Reader

>> Chapter I : The Beginning.

Summary: "Be careful what you wish for" is what everyone says, you realise that you should've taken them seriously when you find yourself reincarnated as a character in the show who never existed.

WARNINGS: CANON TYPICAL INCEST, CONTAINS SPOILERS OF F&B, S1 AND S2, reader's appearance isn't described, only the fact that she is a strong, you can imagine her however you like, the picture used in the header is only to capture the feel of the story. A/N: divider credits to @cafekitsune

masterlist // next

“Jesus Christ, fuck this show, fuck everything, what the fuck is wrong with the writing?” You exclaim in annoyance after witnessing the scene that was supposed to be heavily impactful be butchered.

“That is the most anticlimactic death scene I've ever witnessed, this has to be a joke.” You furiously ramble. You decided to give House of The Dragon a try after your friend had recommended it, the show currently has released three seasons, with the fourth season in production, you thoroughly enjoyed season one and decided to binge all the seasons.

However, everything started to go downhill from season two, yet you still decided to watch for the sake of your favourite characters, daemon and aemond, only to witness the battle that was supposed to be intense and stressful get finished in the span of two minutes.

You stared at the screen, rolling your eyes in annoyance as you witnessed Aemond falling into the lake along with Vhagar, Daemon was knocked off Caraxes too and fell to his death.

They wrapped up the battle in mere moments, which made you angry as you were so hyped up to see them fight.

“Ugh, I never hated a show more than this, waste of my time, they did season one so well, what happened to rest? I did not expect this.” You sigh in frustration, feeling like you just wasted your time.

“If only… If only I ever get a chance, I'd change entire plot and script because fuck this.” You lay down on your sofa, staring at the ceiling, the show still playing in the background. You recollected the entire plot in your head, thinking of every moment in the show, trying to come up with an easy solution.

“If only they had married Jace to Helaena, it would have been peaceful.. Or at least if they had an older daughter married to Aegon or Aemond.” You mumble, but then shake your head, “What am I saying? Things still would've been complicated anyway.” You wonder in disbelief at your own words.

You yawned loudly, stretching out your limbs and blinking your eyes rapidly, your vision began to get blurry and you sighed in content, finally willingly wanting to sleep after you forced yourself to stay up all night to binge the series.

Your vision darkened slowly as you closed your eyelids, head spinning as you took slow breaths of air, cool breeze brushes past your cheeks and before you know it, you're slowly succumbing into slumber.

You blink your eyes open, realising you fell asleep, you sigh stirring on the soft sheets, entangling them between your legs.

Soft sheets?

Your sofa doesn't have any sheets.

You quickly blink again, taking the note of a translucent veil hanging from above, surrounding the bed you're in, creating a curtain around your bed.

Why were you in bed?

You sit up looking around, taking in your surroundings, your eyes widening in fear as you don't recognize this room at all, ancient tapestries, brown wooden furniture, and the source of light being only from the candle.

Have you been kidnapped?

You look down at your body, noticing you are in a white nightgown instead of the shorts you fell asleep in. Your heart begins to race and you panic, unable to understand where you are or how you got there. You steady your breathing, wondering if someone kidnapped you to play a role in a mediaeval film of theirs? But why would anyone do that?

The sound of metal clanking harshly against the floor and a small scream made your head turn the direction it came from, the liquid in the decanter spilling out rapidly as the person behind the fallen cutlery stood in shock.

“The princess is conscious!” She yells loudly before turning around and running out of the room in a hurry.

Princess?

Is this a prank?

You barely have any moment to think when you hear the sound of multiple footsteps coming from outside to your direction, you could almost feel the ground rumbling, noting that everyone was rushing to this room.

You push the veil to the side and stand up, getting out the bed and examining your surroundings, looking at the sigils and the paintings. All of this looked familiar somehow.

A small gasp echoed through the room, coming from the entrance, which made you turn around to take a look at who was in the room once again. Your eyes widened at the sight.

A lady with platinum blonde hair, blue eyes stood in front of you, someone who resembled Rhaenyra and next to her stood Jace and Luke breathing heavily, looking at you in shock.

Did the house of the dragon cast kidnap you to play a prank on you?

That sounds too unreasonable.

“Oh my sweet daughter!” Rhaenyra rushes over to you, embracing you tightly, tears flow down her cheeks as she peppers you with kisses “I-i i cannot believe this, you finally woke up after many years.” She sobs, you look at her questioningly. “Sister.” Jacaerys speaks up, coming to you and joining the embrace of you and Rhaenyra, Luke joins in as well.

“We missed you.” Jace says and you stare at all of them confused.

This has to be a joke.

They notice the expression on your face and their faces immediately drop, “Your grace, the princess woke up after many years, she might not be able to recognise you.” The maester chimes in, Rhaenyra nods, sniffling yet understanding your condition.

“Emma? Is this a joke?” You question, referring to the actor of Rhaenyra, “I’m not Aemma darling, she is your grandmother.” Rhaenyra corrects you. “I think she must be confusing the names of everyone due to her hazy memory.” The maester tries explaining, you sigh.

Yeah this must be a dream.

You shake your head gently and immediately slap yourself to wake yourself up.

“Ouch!” You yell in pain, cupping the cheek you slapped yourself on, Rhaenyra is mortified and the guards rush in and hold your arms back so you don't further hurt yourself.

This is not a dream.

You can’t feel pain in your dreams and you will wake up right before impact.

You look at Rhaenyra’s face, she is as real as a living person, standing right in front of you.

She looks just like Emma. of course, after all Rhaenyra is indeed played by them.

But this is not them.

She is not Emma

You can feel the vibe, it's very different.

You’ve met Emma before in costume, yet they did not give off the vibes as what Rhaenyra is giving off right now, after all, when you met them; it was just a show, but now it's your reality.

Did you die in your world?

You’ve definitely transmigrated into this show, but as who?

Did Rhaenyra ever have a daughter? You knew she didn't.

“Mirror, get me a mirror.” You ask and they look at you questioningly, your form begins to shake as the realisation is too overwhelming, there are many questions in your mind, “Please!” You cry, and immediately a servant moves and rushes over with a mirror.

Your eyes widen.

It's you.

You had not become someone else, but you remained as yourself. “What is my name?” You ask, “Y/N.” Rhaenyra replies. Your mind begins to spin, you are in another world as yourself, you have not possessed anyone else, which means your body must’ve disappeared from your world.

You try to stay calm in this situation, breathing heavily, “You are?” You ask, wanting to reconfirm, you watch as Rhaenyra's face crumples into that of a sad face, probably feeling hurt that her own daughter doesn't recognise her.

“I'm your mother, you are my eldest daughter, they—” She points at Jace, Luke and Joffrey, “—are your younger siblings.” You turn towards them.

You nod, pretending to play the part while you figure out everything. “I'm sorry, I do not remember.” You apologise and Rhaenyra shakes her head, “It is alright, you have been unconscious since the past six years, this is better than losing my daughter.” She replies.

“Six years… Did I fall unconscious after Aemond lost his eye?” You think out loud and Rhaenyra looks at you in shock, “You remember him?” She asks and you clear your throat, “It's hazy, my memory.” You answer back.

“Your grace, the event was probably traumatic for her, hence why she can remember it in parts.” The maester explains it to Rhaenyra, you mentally thank the maester for covering up for you always.

You noticed how they were all dressed up, looked as if they were about to leave but their plans were cut short, and you recognize this gown of Rhaenyra.

It was the gown she wore when she left for King's Landing, in order to settle the matter of Luke's right to driftmark. “You guys were departing somewhere?” You ask, wanting to really confirm it, “Hm? Huh, Yes, We were about to leave for King's Landing.” Jacaerys answers your question.

“Can I tag along?” You blurt the question.

“.. Tag along?” Lucerys repeats your words in confusion, your language confusing him.

“I mean to say, can I come along?” You ask the question in a proper manner, Rhaenyra shakes her head, “No- you've just woken up, you might still be weak- I cannot risk-”

“Mother! I am perfectly fine!” You cut her off, breaking free from the guards hands and running around the room, doing jumping jacks, showing her that you aren't weak and are perfectly capable of physical activity.

Rhaenyra watches in shock, seeing you move like this but she chuckles, shaking her head in comic disbelief, “I guess she has not changed after all.” The maester comments which makes Jace and Luke smile.

“Very well, Pack the princess’ belongings, and get her ready for departure, we will depart two days later.” Rhaenyra orders the maids and you smile at her.

“But mother, I do not have many dresses—”

“You do, I had them tailored every year, whenever you grew, hoping that you would wake up.” She replies softly and you just then realise how Rhaenyra loves her children.

“The maesters said that you might not ever wake up, and that your body will be stunted from growth, yet… I'm glad their predictions never came true.” She smiles gently at you, you smile back.

The maids come in with a bath as everyone leaves, some of them begin packing your belongings. You notice how your body doesn't look how a person in a coma state should be looking especially in the mediaeval times, but instead you seem to be well taken care of, treated as if you were alive.

The maids quickly finish your bath and dress you up, you have to pretend to get used to this atmosphere and era even though you're highly uncomfortable, the mere thought of having servants made you feel bad.

And with that, the night fell, you couldn't sleep thinking about how you're going to deal with everything, could you really prevent war from happening? It happens due to a misunderstanding in the show right? What if the misunderstanding doesn't occur? Your mind was filled with such thoughts through the whole night.

In King's Landing.

“My queen, Rhaenyra, has sent a letter saying that their arrival will be delayed further.” The master sums up the contents of the letter in the council room, in front of Aemond who had been called by Alicent for an urgent matter.

“Why so?” Alicent asks, furrowing her brows.

“Princess Y/N had woken up from her unconscious state.”

An ear piercing shattering sound of glass is heard through the entire room, when turned to look at the origin, It is known that Aemond had dropped the wine glass he was drinking from.

“Y/N is awake?” Aemond asks the maester.

“Yes my prince.” The maester replies.

Aemond's heart begins to pound in his chest loudly, his mind spiralling at the thought of you finally waking up all these years later.

“Please excuse me.” Aemond gets up from the chair, excusing himself from the council and leaving the room, his brain occupied with the thoughts of you.

There wasn't a day where Aemond hadn't thought of you, he would at least think about you once a day- the news of you waking up from unconsciousness made the adrenaline in his body rush.

He felt like a hungry snake that had been starved for many years who at last found a prey to feast on, he felt like a drought-stricken land finally receiving rainfall, he felt like a garden void of any flowers which started to bloom once again.

He was thrilled.

He reminisces of the fond memories you both shared, he could never ever forget them, smiling at the thought of you.

He wondered if you had changed or remained the same.

Whatever it was, he couldn't wait.

He couldn't wait to receive you.

[a-hermit-pining]

I saw this on Twitter (i forgot the @), but it really got me thinking. What would your hc be if the boys were playing the game and you were the mc? I hc that Caleb would save every "y/n laughing compilation" he comes across, rafayel would edit y/n's face on random fish and make crack edits and from his alt account he would drop the most gorgeous fanart, and for some reason I feel like sylus would use "quality time" religiously

Hi anon, thank you for sending this in ^^

I completely agree with your takes. Here is my take to compliment yours.

Rafayel: Is the undisputed Fanart King, sketching your character from every angle, in every possible outfit. If an art contest exists, he has already submitted three entries before anyone even knew it was happening. But beyond his artistic obsession, he is also the cursed glitch hoarder. While normal people would be horrified at a headless version of you appearing in-game, Rafayel takes screenshots for exclusive content, considering it a divine blessing from the tech gods. Despite his god-tier art skills, he has zero patience for level locks that force him to wait before progressing, so instead of playing at a normal pace, he rage-quits for months, then returns to binge the game in one sleepless week. His camera roll is half fanart, half stunning in-game scenery that he edits like it’s going in an art gallery.

Xavier: Does not play games for casual enjoyment. He plays for answers. He is a speedrun menace, hitting the first dialogue option before the text box even fully loads. If he gets stuck, he immediately transforms into a lore-devouring beast, reading every spoiler possible just to figure out how to proceed. The only thing keeping him from fully losing his sanity is his refusal to buy premium currency, his pride dictates that he must grind every last diamond by sheer willpower alone. And so, he hoards gems like his soul depends on it, progresses at breakneck speed, and once he’s finished all available content, he descends into 3 AM theory rabbit holes instead of doing something sane like, you know… sleeping. He probably has a color-coded spreadsheet tracking all the route impacts.

Zayne: No one would ever suspect that the infamous, critically acclaimed AO3 writer Frozen Seal, master of soul-crushing angst and tender, breathtaking romance, is actually the stoic, overworked cardiologist Zayne. His fics have a reputation for being so emotionally devastating that readers leave essays in the comments. His update schedule? Completely dictated by his hospital shifts. His author’s notes? Usually something like "Sorry, a patient coded. Will update later." Writes the most heart-wrenching, steamy romance scenes with surgical precision, leaving readers sobbing and sweating in equal measure. Has the smut writing skills of an ace author- which are god tier. Daydreams about you constantly, except when he’s actively resuscitating someone (Even he has limits.)

Sylus: Sylus owns everything. Every premium outfit, every pose, every CG. His entire paycheck is funneled into this game, and no one will ever know the full extent of his power. If questioned about how he maxed out every possible feature, he simply smirks and says, “Skill issue.” But despite single-handedly funding the dev team, he is infuriatingly secretive about his content. His in-game gallery? Locked. His premium screenshots? Hidden. Some speculate he has developers tied up in his basement feeding him exclusive content, but according to Sylus, it’s simply the fruit of his labor. Strangely enough, despite having literally everything, he still has beef with the gacha system and will cuss out the algorithm if he doesn’t get his way.

Caleb: Is cursed with abysmal gacha luck, pulling three-star memories every single time without fail. He suffers, but at this point, he embraces the suffering like a tragic hero. His nights are spent watching crack compilations at 2 AM, laughing silently to himself like a man on the verge of losing his mind (he is this 🤏🏻close). By all accounts, he plays the game rationally until your character appears, at which point all logic is abandoned. He has every single one of Zayne’s fics bookmarked, and he doesn’t just skim he analyzes them like scholarly literature, leaving long, heartfelt comments. And, of course, in the quiet solitude of his room, a freakishly realistic body pillow of you sits on his bed. If questioned? He doesn’t even blink. "It’s a limited-edition collector’s item."

[kxsagi]

Hi!!!

I’ve literally been binge reading all your works for a few days and I just have to say your writing is really good. I love the way you write Sae and Isagi (my favs) i’m not one to request things but I wanted to try it for once

Would you be able to write the bllk boys (Sae and Isagi + whoever else you want) having an s/o who smokes/vapes. Whether it’s a habit that the reader had before the relationship or picked it up at some point. I saw something similar a long time ago and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

That’s all and I’ll say it again. I LOVE your works so much

"𝐠𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤"

a/n: hi hi! thank you so much for your kind words and your request, i can’t express my gratitude enough! 

i wasn't exactly comfortable with the idea of writing about reader who vapes/smokes because i really don’t condone that for personal/health reasons, and it’s totally not your fault because i didn’t say anything about that in my request rules. 

if it’s okay, i did change the plot a little to headcanons about how you take out flavored chapstick and the boys think it’s a vape instead. thank you for your understanding 🥹🫶

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, ness alexis

isagi yoichi

you pull something out of your pocket and bring it to your lips. 

he does a double take. 

“wait, are you vaping?” 

you blink at him, confused, then turn the chapstick around to show the label: cotton candy swirl. 

“it’s lip balm, yoichi.” 

he turns bright red. 

“… oh.” 

two minutes later he’s looking it up online like “is secondhand chapstick a thing?” 

itoshi rin

you apply your peach-flavored lip balm while walking next to him. 

he stares. hard. 

“are you seriously vaping right now?” 

you pause mid-swipe. 

“rin. it’s chapstick.” 

“… oh. it smells fake.” 

he walks faster, annoyed for no reason, like your lips having moisture is a personal attack. 

later, when you kiss him, he mumbles, “still tastes like chemicals.” 

but doesn't pull away. 

nagi seishiro

he sees you reapplying your cherry lip balm and just stares. 

“… yo. can i try it?” 

“my chapstick?” 

“oh, i thought it was a vape... can i still try it?” 

you kiss his cheek. 

“… that works,” he shrugs, leaning on your shoulder half-asleep. 

the next day you catch him putting it on himself. when you ask why, he just says, “too lazy to buy my own. plus yours tastes like candy.”

mikage reo

reo catches you applying your lip balm during a water break. 

“hey, wait a sec. you vape now?” 

you stare at him. 

“reo. babe. it’s lip balm.” 

he squints, takes it, reads the label: birthday cake blast. 

“… why is this so dramatic?” 

he puts it on to prove a point and instantly grimaces. 

“why do your lips taste like a party store???” 

shidou ryusei

he sees you apply it and immediately goes: “damn. you hitting that cotton candy cloud-9000 or what?” 

you: “it’s chapstick?” 

shidou: “hell yeah it is. that’s your vape now. you’re one of us.” 

he starts calling you “vape queen” ironically. tries to put stickers on your lip balm. 

you catch him mimicking you in the mirror later, dramatically applying your watermelon twist like it’s a ritual. 

itoshi sae

you pull out your lip balm, swipe it across your lips, and keep walking. 

he catches a glimpse and immediately frowns. 

“are you really vaping now?” 

you blink, confused. 

“what? no, it’s chapstick.” 

he raises an eyebrow, skeptical. 

“mmm, sure.” 

later, he catches you applying it again, this time on the couch. 

you watch his eyes narrow, and before you know it, he’s grabbed the chapstick, inspecting the label like it’s evidence in a crime scene. 

“watermelon sugar rush?” he smirks, “yeah, that’s definitely a vape.” 

you sigh, shaking your head. 

“you’re ridiculous.” 

“i’m just trying to keep you out of trouble, love,” he grins. "but hey, if it makes you happy..." 

he gives it back and casually walks off. 

you swear he’s the most suspicious about it out of anyone. 

kaiser michael

you pull out your vanilla shimmer gloss stick and swipe it across your lips. 

he raises an eyebrow. “seriously? in public?” 

“liebe, it’s lip balm.” 

“sure it is,” he smirks. “next thing you’ll tell me is you don���t run an underground vape ring.” 

you smack his arm. he just laughs. 

later steals it and puts it on just to annoy you. 

“what? if you're gonna taste like cupcakes, i might as well match.” 

ness alexis

gasps like you just committed a crime. 

“you’re vaping? now?? in front of me???” 

you: “alexis baby, it’s literally called ‘jellybean kiss balm.’” 

ness: “... oh.” 

immediately goes, “can i try it?” like he didn’t just accuse you of corrupting the youth. 

starts using it so often you have to buy a second one. 

calls it “our shared little secret” every time and winks. you consider throwing it out. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[ahqkas]

hey goergous!! I've been BINGING your writing on the batboys and I absolutely love them!! Is there a chance you can do Costco runs with the batboys? Weird idea but I was just at Costco and was thinking about it hahaha!! Thank you!!! ❤️🦇

♯HEAVEN IS A PLACE ON EARTH WITH YOU ( the batboys accompanying you to costco ! )

— gn!reader, bruce & dick & jason ( separated ), i had to google what costco is so i hope i got it right !! fluff, this is so short i’m sorry 😣

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

THE MERE IDEA OF BRUCE WAYNE IN SUCH A SHOP WAS AS SURREAL AS ENDEARING. it happened during a simple saturday morning, still when many people were busy sleeping in, when you got to the task at your hand: grocery shopping.

you glanced over at your company, noting how his well tailored black sweater and dark jeans contrasted with the whole place and its contents. his classy clothing looked so out of place among the sea of puffy jackets, hoodies, and sneakers. yet, as always, he didn’t seem to mind. he almost looked comfortable ( if you could call the expression on his face by that word ) by your side, but you had your suspicions it was only because he was with you.

he pushed the cart with one hand, his other resting warmly on your lower back as he guided you through the place like he knew exactly where to go. you’d begged him to come with you—not because you couldn’t do it alone, but because you were curious about him in such a place. the idea of bruce wayne, a billionaire who owned sprawling estates and could have groceries delivered with a snap of his finger, was far too good to pass on.

bruce picked up a bulk-sized box of protein granola bars and studied it like he was deciphering a riddle from the riddler himself. “do we eat these?”

you tilted your head towards him, eyes flickering between his handsome face and the bars in his hands. he managed to look good even under those fluorescent lights. “i eat them. you inhale them after your patrols.

a flicker of smirk danced on his lips while his free arm tightened around your waist, tossing the box into the cart with a nod of his head. “point taken, sweetheart.”

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

the idea to shop at costco was his.

it was funny to watch him move through the shop, one hand pushing the cart while he held your hand with the other. ( “costco? are you kidding? i love costco,” he’d said with excitement filling his voice, practically dragging you out the door before you could protest. ) . now, you were strolling through various aisles with your boyfriend. dick was dressed in his usual hoodie and jeans, although you knew he was hiding his suit under the casual clothes. his blue eyes sparkled whenever he discovered something that was ‘essential’ for your home.

“do we really need a 10 pound tub of peanut butter?”

“we do now.”

it was nice seeing him like this, doing normal things like shopping for once. he scanned the rows of fresh fruit like a normal guy instead of the acrobatic vigilante who swung through blüdhaven’s skyline every night. dick picked up a bag of green apples and tossed it into the cart. they’d bruise, no doubt. “do you approve of these?”

“i approve of anything that gets you to eat actual food instead of protein bars and instant noodles,” you pinched his biceps, feeling the muscle flex under your touch.

he swatted your hand away. “hey, i make a mean bowl of mac and cheese.”

“you mean you open a mean box of mac and cheese.”

dick shrugged with an ashamed smile on his face, hand reaching out and picking up a tub of pre-cut pineapple. “there. that’s balance right here. carbs and fruit. meal prep done.”

. . . JASON TODD !

THE TRUNK OF YOUR CAR GROANED UNDER THE WEIGHT OF WHAT FELT LIKE AN ENTIRE GROCERY STORE as jason hefted yet another bag onto his shoulder, the plastic handles straining under the bulk of sparkling water. his leather jacket creaked with the movement, and a few stray strands of his dark hair fell across his forehead as he turned to you with a playful look on his face.

“explain to me again,” he drawled out lowly, “why two people need this much stuff?”

you shrugged your shoulders and leaned casually against the car while sipping your iced coffee, looking far too pleased with yourself ( which you kinda were ). “because it’s costco, jay. you don’t go in for just a few things. you go in, black out, and come out with a year’s supply of paper towels and enough food to survive the apocalypse.”

your boyfriend huffed a laugh at that, shaking his head as he grabbed another bag, this one balanced with a carton of eggs and a bag of frozen chicken nuggets. “pretty sure you’re prepping for more than just the apocalypse. you’ve got enough granola bars in here to feed an entire boy scout troop.”

“don’t act like you’re not going to eat half of those on your next patrol.”

jason ate like he was the entire boy scout troop.

“fair point,” he admitted and you watched as his lips twitched into a smirk. jason had this way of making even the most normal activities feel like they were charged with a kind of electricity. the way he moved, the way he joked — it all carried that signature side of him.

[nitewingbabi]

↳ please respond…I showed you my cock            ⚤ ghostface x female!reader  【 18+ ONLY — Minors DNI 】 ✉ taking requests part 2 ▻ a pretty mouth

2023 was a different year for everyone. Covid was 2020's big killer, and now ghostface seemed to be claiming 2023 as his year. You were one of his taunting targets. Text messages, phone calls, notes in your locker or mail. He had even been in your room once to leave a message on your mirror.

‘I like the red ones’ which was referring to your panties that you were trying on the other day after doing some much needed retail therapy with some friends. 

Your group was getting smaller and smaller as more students were murdered, kidnapped or not heard from in weeks. Curfew was getting shorter that soon enough school was sure to be cancelled until the police solved whoever was running around killing everyone. 

It’s Tuesday night and you just finished showering, you had been blowdrying your hair for the last 20 minutes. The recent news far from your thoughts, the truck load of school work that was due was giving you a migraine. Finally your hair was dried and you were ready to slip into bed and start your assignment. You turned your TV on, immediately putting on your current Netflix show that you were binging. 

Eyes flicking back and forth from your laptop screen to your TV. You hadn’t checked your phone since you started to shower and noticed you had multiple messages from an unknown number. But it wasn’t unknown to you. You knew exactly who it was. 

Unknown Number +1**********

➤ quiet night? 

➤ parents aren’t home. 

➤ neighbours are out of town. 

You had only had one actual physical contact with ghostface which was two weeks ago. He chased you around your house until your neighbours came barging in and he ran away. Ever since you had your parents change the locks and debate whether or not to send you across the country to live with your aunt and uncle until it was all over. You pleaded that they didn’t and instead they paid for a self defence class for you. 

Your phone buzzed again, drawing your attention away from the TV. 

Unknown Number +***********

➤ i liked the little show you put on for me the other day. 

➤ wish i had been there to ruin those little red panties 

You weren’t sure what to write back, you sat there debating if you should even write anything back and entertain this creep. 

Just as you put your phone down, the screen lit up and the room echoed from your ringtone. 

Unknown Caller 

You weren’t sure if you should pick up, but something inside you made you do it. 

“Hello?” You hesitantly asked as you held the device up to your ear. Waiting to hear that deep voice that you couldn’t recognise. 

“Hello y/n. Enjoying your show?” Your eyes met your TV screen to see your show playing still on low volume. You turned the TV off, quickly standing to your feet to look out your window. It was barely lit outside from the streetlight and nothing seemed to stick out like a sore thumb. 

“Who is this? Why are you tormenting me?” You had asked the question too many times that it was just routine, you’d hope that one time he would budge and just tell you. 

“The question isn’t who I am. the question is where I am.” You heart began to race, eyes searching endlessly out your window, he had to be close by. You suddenly felt the booty shorts and crop top that you had slid into wasn’t the best attire to be wearing at home alone whilst being stalked by a psycho. 

“Look asshole, you wanna play games. I can play.” You weren’t sure what you exact plan was, but it was the first thing to pop into your head. Were you terrified of ghostface? Yes. But did it also arouse you how much he called you, texted you, the fact he had probably seen you naked countless times, even possibly pleasured himself to the sight of you. 

“Oh yeah? In the mood for monopoly?” He chuckled darkly on the other end, you could only hope he was still watching you from where he was. With your free hand you danced your fingers down your torso, dipping into the waistband of your shorts and panties and itching your way to your centre that was throbbing. You could hear a deep growl on the other end. 

You chuckled into the phone, knowing he was definitely watching you now. You breathed a soft moan as your fingertip circles your juicy clit, using your arousal as lube to slick your finger around the bundle of nerves. Your moans grew louder and your mouth fell agape as you began walking backwards onto your bed, allowing yourself to fall back into the plush mattress and send yourself into a bliss. 

You had forgotten about ghostface, your phone falling from your ear to beside your head. 

“Hey!” Your eyes popped open as you remembered he was still on the other end. You quickly grabbed it, slowing your circles to keep yourself on edge. 

“I want to hear your pretty cries when you cum, I want you to cum to me and only me. You got that princess?” His words were sharp and threatening, just like the blade he used to murder your friends. God you were getting turned on and touching yourself to a psycho killer. The unexpected happened next. A snapchat notification came through. 

Gfce23 added you on Snapchat! 

It was him. It had to be. You accepted, still working yourself and slipping a finger inside your dripping cunt to get more arousal on your clit. 

Immediately a video came through, along with a few photos. You bit your lip as you thought about what could possibly be on the other end. You had to take the chance though, you were too far down the rabbit hole. 

“Open them, I want you to see what you fucking do to me.” His voice was hoarse and breathless, you could tell he was jerking himself on the other end or something. You clicked on the purple square. Your eyes met a hard cock, veiny and thick. The tip an enraged red with a slight purple tinge. A single drop of precum oozing out the slit and his black leather glove wrapped around his cock. 

The video began playing and his hand jerked his cock slowly, throaty moans echoing as the video continued to play and that drop of precum dripped down his pinkish shaft. A small bush of pubic hair that led to a faint snail trail and a set of what you could only guess were abs. 

His hand got faster and his moans got faster as he pumped himself hard in his hand, but before you could view more you heard your parents car pulling into the driveway with their faint music blaring. 

Ghostface was in the back of your mind as you quickly closed your phone and got settled into bed. Ghostface didn’t call you back, didn’t text you and didn’t send anything else to you that night. But that does’t mean he let you off easy. 

It had only been a few days since you last heard from ghostface, but when you did you were surprised to see the message he had sent through was not his usual taunting, threatening approach. 

Unkown Number +**********

➤ i want to see that pretty pussy spread out tonight 

➤ leave your window unlocked

➤ i know your parents wont be home

➤ hope you like it rough princess

[allpiesforourown]

Roommate bingyuan au save me... shen yuan sitting on binghes lap while they cuddle on the couch and watch TV... it's cold and the blanket is too small to fit over then both unless they're close together!

Shen yuan's bedroom door opening at 2 am and binghe walks in with tired eyes and his hands on his hips saying "Yuan ge, you have to be up early tomorrow.." Binghe takes shen yuans phone and ignores the wailing for "let me just finish this chapter!" and says he's not giving it back until morning. Shen Yuan pouts and says fine... you can go back to bed now... binghe replies "Yuan ge wouldn't be thinking of using his laptop instead would he?" When shen yuan doesn't answer binghe sighs and drops onto shen yuans bed and pulls him down with him. Shen Yuan grumbles but binghes arms are so tight around him there's no way he can escape much less reach for his laptop. This is a frequently used (and much loved) tactic binghe has for making sure shen yuan doesn't spend all night binging terrible web novels.

If shen yuan really can't stop thinking about the new chapter and asks for his phone, binghe will say "what happened in this update?" And listen to shen yuan summarize the plot and rant about the writing. He explains what he thinks will happen vs what he would personally write. Binghe keeps him talking until shen yuan is yawning more and more and hes struggling to stay awake.

They wake up in the morning and shen yuan says "my phone!" And binghe hands it over. They cuddle in bed while binghe reads it along with shen yuan. When they get to the end he says "I liked yuan ge's ending better" every single time. Then they get up to have breakfast

[nights-at-crystarium]

Okay the number of new followers reaches critical mass, which makes me anxious to show around, what's this place, what I'm doing here. Hi and welcome to the gay gremlin zone o/

My main thing is Fragments, a wolgraha/wolemet comic that takes its sweet time. Launched in 2022, it has enough script to last for a good decade. It updates every other friday. It's written first and drawn second, meaning that I pay great attention to pacing, themes, characters etc. It's not a 1:1 msq retelling, the canon divergence grows over time. My fresh approach and the dialogue quality start to slowly gain critical acclaim if you ask around.

Also I'm an edgelord, therefore the soft and silly scenes sit next to dark and angsty ones.

I'm mainly writing this because my recent Alisaie art brought in a veritable crowd, she's a major character in Fragments too! She starts out wrestling with a crush that only causes problems to everyone, eventually gets over Vivi, grows into a proper friend and finds a woman she likes. That can't happen overnight, and it's a mere subplot, so I suggest enjoying it as a part of the course instead of expecting it to be the main dish.

Fragments is a work for a mature reader capable of thinking for themselves. The thing I cherish the most in ShB is moral ambiguity, and I'm further expanding upon it by showing every mc's pov and refraining from making judgements.

If that sounds fun to you, take a seat and watch this local elf hurt everyone including himself.

Read Fragments on tumblr or webtoon!

The stuff I post aside from the comic is random art, when I take a break from drawing The Big Thing by drawing something else, I strive to reset my brain and do something different, like painting or animation. I also yap and shitpost to my heart's content.

There's always someone who missed the thing I posted a week or a year ago, so I self-reblog a lot. I encourage and appreciate it when people take the initiative and interact with my old posts!! Feel free to binge-like or reblog EVERYTHING. Here are a few fun tags to start: wolgraha | wolemet | feo ul | alisaie

[y3sterdaysproblem]

the final girl - matt/chris sturniolo

warnings: heavy on the MDNI, stalking, chasing, oral, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, knife play, degradation/praise, talks of death, blood

spoilers for the scream movies if you’ve never seen them

a/n: hi! welcome to my blog, I hope you stay a while. I have a big passion for writing so i’m excited to start writing for this fandom.

wc: 6.7k

It was late.

Way too late for any woman to be walking around by herself, past dark alleyways and businesses that had long since closed for the night, however you just needed to clear your head, go for a quick little walk to get your mind off some things, and get a few extra steps in after a particularly lazy day at home binge watching your favorite show.

It wasn’t often that you walked around late at night, due to the potential dangers of it, but you also weren’t particularly afraid of it either, being comfortable with the area you lived and your level of self defense (although most of it was blind confidence, you’d never taken a self defense class in your life), so tonight felt no different than the other times that you had gone on a late night walk, except for maybe the fact that it had started to get slightly chillier out, prompting you to throw on a hoodie that came past the hem of your pajama shorts that had been on since the night before.

Typically you would have airpods in while you walked, but tonight you felt more like enjoying the sounds of night life chattering in the distance as the background noise for your walk, and that’s exactly what you heard as you kept a steady pace through the slightly busier side of town. Bars, restaurants, liquor stores, all littered up and down the streets, some with a few customers, and some completely blacked out. The only part that sent a small shiver down your spine every time you walked past one, was the dark, dimly lit or completely pitch black alleyways that seemingly dragged on for miles.

It wasn’t necessarily a fear, but the thought of being dragged into an alleyway and stabbed or brutally beaten had always been a nagging thought at the back of your mind on these walks. Maybe you had died in an alleyway in a past life. Regardless, you push through the small voice in your head that makes you step a little quicker every time you pass by.

It’s close to 30 minutes into your walk, zoned in as ever, when you feel a buzz in your back pocket, and the feeling rips you out of the deep thought you were having, using your hands to push up your hoodie to reach the butt pocket in your shorts, grabbing your phone and seeing an unknown caller on the screen. You furrow your brow and send it to voicemail, telling yourself if it was important, they’d leave a message, your thought process for any unknown caller.

However, this seemed a little different than a typical unknown number calling, as instead of seeing the voicemail start to pour in, you just see the call trying to come through another time, and again, you hit the red button on your screen, declining the call.

“Can’t be that important,” you mutter under your breath, about to put your phone back into your pocket, when it starts to buzz for a third time, making your heart start to pick up pace slightly. Who would be trying to reach you at such an ungodly hour? Why were they trying so desperately to reach you?

Your finger hovered over the decline button again, but something in you told you to accept the call. What if it was an emergency? What if a family member was in the hospital and they were trying to reach you? What if a friend was in jail and needed you to bail them out? Too many thoughts bounced around inside your head, but eventually you chalked it up to your anxiety getting the best of you, and you pressed down, declining the call again.

You stared down at your phone, stopping completely in the middle of the deserted sidewalk, waiting for another phone call to ring through your phone, but after waiting for a solid minute with no attempts at a call, you assume the caller is done bothering, and put your phone back in your pocket, quickening your pace in an attempt to get home a little quicker than usual.

It’s no more than two minutes later that your phone starts to buzz in your pocket again, and this time, it makes you completely freeze in your tracks. Again? you think to yourself, slowly reaching back and grabbing your phone once more, looking at the same number on the screen trying to reach you. Surely it has to be important if somebody is trying this hard, so with a bit of reluctance and a faster heartbeat than you’d like to admit, you swipe your phone across the screen and hold it up to your ear.

“Hello?” You speak, voice quieter than normal.

“Hi,” the voice on the other end drawls out in a slightly robotic, yet still human voice.

“Who am I speaking with?” You retort.

“I could ask the same question,” the voice replies.

This is weird, you think to yourself.

“You called me, so who is this?” Your voice raises slightly as you get annoyed with the situation. First this person has the nerve to call in the middle of the night, and now they won’t even disclose who they are.

“Woah, you’re feisty. I like that. You got a boyfriend?”

You pause. “Do I- what?!” The exasperation is clear in your voice, a slight panic filling your chest.

“You heard me. You got a boyfriend?” He repeats, a smirk evident in the way he spoke.

You remain silent on the line for a moment, looking around to see if anybody was nearby to overhear this conversation, but there was nobody in your line of sight no matter which direction you looked. “Yes,” fell from your lips before you could stop yourself. “I have a boyfriend.”

The man, or person rather, you weren’t too sure, made a pouting sound on the other end of the call, clearly dejected by your answer. “What a shame,” he starts. “I was hoping I could have you all to myself.”

The words that left his mouth is what really set off your panic, your heart racing in your chest as you started to move again, wanting more than ever to just get home and crawl into bed where you knew you were safe, because right now you felt anything but safe, too exposed in the nighttime air.

“I’m sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong number, have a good night,” you tell them, pulling your phone away from your ear to finally hang up and rid yourself of this interaction, but just as you’re about to end the call, you hear shouting coming from it, the person still yelling at you despite your efforts to end the call. Slowly, you pull it back to your ear, hoping he doesn’t know you’re still listening, but somehow, he knows, chuckling into the speaker.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he taunts. “You wanna play a game?”

Fuck, you think. There’s no way this was who you thought it was, right? Those were just movies, and killers like that don’t exist in the real world. Besides, who would be dumb enough to be a copycat killer with such a popular character? It would be stupid to think that you could possibly get away with trying to be Ghos-

“Hello?! Did you not hear me, slut? I said… do you want to play a game?” The voice bellows, getting more aggressive now.

“W-what kind of game?” You stutter out, your eyes frantically looking for a soul to share this terrifying moment with. But still, there was nobody around, nobody to be a witness. The sinking feeling that you might die, completely alone in the middle of the night, and probably in a stupid fucking alleyway floods your body, understanding how dire this situation is about to get.

“Do you like scary movies?”

The question was way too fitting for the breezy October air, but nowhere near cool enough to cause the goosebumps that arose on your skin.

“Yes,” you breathe out.

“Good. What’s your favorite scary movie?” He asks, curiosity evident in his tone.

You decide to push your luck, and see how far this can go, see who’s really behind the voice on the other end. “You ever heard of the Stab movies?” You ask.

He laughs. He knows you know now. But he doesn’t seem to mind that his cover is blown. “Wow, that’s a creative answer. I’ve heard of them,” he says.

You know that the Stab movies were just fictional, based on the stories of those in the Scream movies, but in reality, Scream was your favorite scary movie. It wasn’t too gory or scary, just the perfect amount of thriller to keep you on the edge of your seat, and truthfully, you always kind of had a thing for Ghostface, which is exactly why you’re still here on the phone, entertaining whoever is on the other end.

“Well, that’s my favorite movie. Are we done playing games now?” You’re more than ready to be back home now, but a part of you isn’t ready for this call to be over just yet. You wanna know if he’s gonna want to do trivia, just like the real Ghostface.

“The game hasn’t even started,” he begins. “Play with me, will you?” His voice is soft, almost begging. You would never admit it out loud, but it made you swallow a little harder than usual, and the feeling of your quickening heartbeat fell between your legs. Curse this Ghostface kink.

“O-okay,” you agree. “Let’s play.”

“Great. How about a warm up question? Who’s the killer in the original Scream movie?” He shoots out the first question like he’s reading it off of a script.

“Easy! It’s Billy Loomis, and don’t think I’ll fall for your trick question, Stu Macher is the other killer,” you proudly say, perhaps a little too loudly, but there was still nobody around to hear you boasting about your favorite movie killers.

He seems almost proud when he answers, like you’ve impressed him more than he’d like to admit. “Good job. Now we’ll play for real.”

“What?!” You exclaim. “I got that one right, that counts.”

“No, it was a warm up.” He’s determined to not count this question as a legitimate turn. “If you get this one right, you get to walk away.”

You’re overly confident in your knowledge of the Scream movies, so even though you’re not really sure what is going on at the moment, you’re almost positive you’ll get this question right and win whatever this game was, ending the conversation and letting you finally go home in peace. “And if I lose?” You dare to ask.

His reply is quick though. “If you lose, I get to wear your insides as a fucking necklace.”

Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears at the words, worry finally filling your head as you realize this was a lot more serious than you had initially thought. There was no way this guy was serious, but standing alone in the middle of the street at almost 2am, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was completely serious, and if a trivia question was the way your life would end.

“I don’t think I want to play this game anymore,” tears filled your eyes as you spoke, voice raising in pitch as your throat started to get tight. “Please just let me go home.”

He doesn’t respond to this with words, only a small chuckle before he speaks again. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

“My name?” You choke out. “Why do you want to know?”

He pauses.

“Because I want to know who I’m looking at.”

It’s in this moment that you look to your right, realizing you’re stopped at the end of an alleyway, right at the driveway, and staring down the dark hall of the alley, you see a dark figure standing in the middle of it, phone held up to their ear, Ghostface mask the only thing visible in the one working light that shines down on their face.

“Holy fuck,” you panic, immediately turning the other way and running down the alley across the street, opposite the one the figure stood in. “Help!” You cry out, phone call long forgotten as you pump your arms to try and run quicker. It seems to be to no avail as you hear loud footsteps quickly approaching behind you, and you start to feel all hope draining from your body as the killer got closer.

It’s not long before you’re getting slammed up a brick wall, knocking the breath out of you as you come face to face with your favorite movie killer, however this wasn’t a movie, this was real life, and you were truly and utterly fucked.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you beg once you get your breath back, trying to shove them away, but your efforts failed. One arm was held across your chest, and the other was holding a large blade up to your throat. “I promise, I’ll do anything, just don’t hurt me.”

He laughs in your face, and the classic Ghostface voice is still there despite the phone call being over. The voice changer must be built into the fucking mask, and you couldn’t help but think how hot this would’ve been in any other situation. Except… part of you was still slightly turned on, even though your life was in jeopardy. “I’m going to do a lot more than hurt you,” he threatens. “Now tell me. How does Amber die in Scream 5?”

God, he’s still quizzing you? Even with a knife to your throat? The good thing is, you’ve seen these movies so many times, you know you can pull this without even thinking.

“She… she lights herself on fire, on a stove.” You choke out, looking up into the eyes of the mask. You almost let a smirk take over your face, but then you feel the blade press harder, and it makes your eyes widen.

“Wrong,” he taunts, leaning his face closer to yours. “She survives the fire and gets shot in the head.”

No, you think. No, there’s no way I’m wrong. Until you realize, he’s right. You have to shoot them in the head, or they come back. Fuck.

“Wait! Ask me another question, I can get it right I swear!” You’re squirming against his grip now, tears evidently streaming down your face. You know what happens in this part of the movie. The brutal stabbing, the guts hanging out, the killer getting away with it. It was over, and you were no doubt a dead man walking.

“Too late! You’re wrong!” He yells, moving his arm that lay across your chest and putting his hand on your shoulder, applying pressure to push you towards the ground, and the shove had forced you to fall on your knees, no doubt ripping them up with the uneven ground you now rested on. Your eyes looked up towards the masked figure, eyebrows contorted in confusion. This was not how the movies went at all, but a part of you was getting slightly warmer at the thought of what was about to happen, thighs clenching together around nothing.

“I-I’m sorry, I panicked and said the wrong answer,” you say in a quiet voice, still staring up at him through your lashes. From the position you were now in, you assumed you and the killer were on the same page, and you reached out to rest your hands on his thighs, separated by the cloak he wore and the jeans that lay atop his skin. “Please let me make it up to you.”

The tone shifts. No longer were you scared for your life, but you were excited for what was about to ensue. Sure, maybe this wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve ever done, and maybe it’ll be the last thing you ever do, but you wanted to go out with a bang, and this was definitely a bang.

As he fails to respond, you take that as your approval and start to move his cloak up, pulling it over your head and completely covering yourself with it so you, too, were underneath it, almost completely hidden from view apart from your bare knees touching the ground. The only thing separating you now was the normal clothes that lay underneath, and you reach your hands up to the button of his jeans, skillfully yet slowly popping it open, pulling the zipper down after it. Keeping the pants completely pulled up, just slightly undone, you move your hand downwards and palm over the hardness under the hard fabric, realizing that he was having just as much fun as you were. Besides, who could turn down a free blowjob from a pretty girl in a dark alleyway?

Deciding you were ready to take this on, you push your hands in the waistband of his jeans and boxers, pulling them down to expose the hard member that impatiently awaited, hearing the masked killer suck in a hissed breath, still contorted by the voice changer. God, this was a fucking dream come true and you wanted to relish in every second of it that you could.

He was bigger than you expected, but just like your movie trivia confidence, you were confident you could take him, in more ways than one, and you lean forward to gently start taking the tip into your mouth, creating a suction around it that made him have to lean a hand on the alley wall to keep his balance and not fall to his knees alongside you. Once you’re comfortable with the feeling, you reach a hand up to cover what your mouth can’t reach and start pumping in time with your head movements, tongue flattening out onto the bottom of his dick, twisting your hand slightly as you moan when the tip hits the back of your throat, causing him to let out a choked moan.

“You should be fucking bleeding out in a dumpster right now, you stupid bitch,” he mumbles, but it’s in vain. You’ve got him right where you need him, and he would never admit it, but he’s living for it. The euphoria filling his veins as he focuses on the way your tongue moves on him is taking over his senses, eyes closed and head thrown back.

All you do is moan in response as you continue your pace, feeling your own arousal creeping up inside your pajama shorts, wishing you could reach down and relieve some of the pressure, but you decide to not push your luck too much. You don’t know what he would let you get away with and what he wouldn’t.

You feel him start to lose control slightly, using his hand braced on the wall as leverage as he starts to move his hips forward, fucking your mouth lightly at first, but quickly picking up pace as he realizes that you can take a lot more than you’re letting on, not stopping even when your hands fly up to his hips and you gag around his cock abusing your throat, using it as a fuck toy. However, your hands don’t push him away, just grasp on so you have something to ground yourself in the moment.

Suddenly, the rough pace stops, and he pulls the cloak from over you and looks down and your fucked out face, day old mascara running down your cheeks, drool dripping down your chin as your mouth hangs open while you try to catch your breath. It’s a beautiful sight to him, and he can’t get enough. He pushes your head against the brick wall, a big more aggressive than needed, but not hard enough to hurt you, and uses his other hand to slap his cock against your cheek lightly before letting out a breathless laugh.

“Stand up, slut. Wanna see how wet you are for me,” he demands, taking a fistful of your hair and pulling you up, not giving you time to focus on the ache in your knees from the position you were in. But you eagerly got up anyway, returning to your face to face positioning. Swallowing thickly, you finally catch your breath as you stare back into the eyes of the mask, but it’s dark in this alley that you can’t see the eyes behind it.

“I’m so wet, please touch me. It hurts. I need you to touch me,” you beg, his hand still tangled in your hair while the other one is still wrapped around the handle of a blade. You knew the begging was risky, not knowing what his plans were with you, but you decided to try it anyway, not giving yourself much time to talk yourself out of it.

He doesn’t reply just yet, only takes his wielded weapon and slowly moves it under your hoodie, sliding the blade down your stomach, the cold, pointed tip pressed hard enough to cause goosebumps to prickle your skin, but not enough to break skin. Not yet.

He drags it into the waistband of your shorts and panties, knife touching your soaked pussy momentarily before he shoves it down and slices a hole right through both layers of your clothes, creating a gash large enough for whatever he had planned for you. The autumn air rushed over your wetness, causing you to try and clench your legs shut, but you quickly relaxed your knees when you realized the knife was still hanging between your thighs, not wanting to risk cutting yourself. It was a vulnerable position, one that should be terrifying, but it just made you more desperate to be touched.

Slowly he pulled the knife from your shorts, reaching back to slide it in the waistband of his jeans so both of his hands were free to touch you, and once his right hand was rid of the blade, he brought it to the hole in your shorts and ran a finger through the smooth slit of your pussy, gliding easily from how wet you already were. It was a fucked situation, but it had you worked up beyond belief. You don’t know if you’ve ever been this wet prior to even being touched before.

“All of this for me?” He breaks the silence for a first time in the while, causing a whimper to leave your mouth as he kept playing with you lightly, not dipping his fingers where you needed them the most right now, barely grazing over the folds covering your clit. The teasing was making you crazy, but you were too scared to tell him what to do, or even to reach out and touch him while you were face to face. You felt completely at his mercy; and it was the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced in your life.

“Tell me, pretty girl. How bad do you want me right now?” He asks, leaning his masked face in closer to yours. You swore you almost hear his real voice underneath the voice changer, but brush it aside and focus on the Ghostface voice you know and love, finally opening your mouth to speak, heavy breathing accompanying your words.

“I don’t want you, I need you so bad, please put your fingers inside me, I need it. I need to feel you inside of me, please,” you beg, voice cracking as you realize tears are streaming down your face, but you don’t know if you’re crying because you’re terrified or because you’re just so fucking desperate.

He chuckles as he slides two fingers in between your folds, dragging your wetness to your clit for a moment and rubbing there, finally relieving some of the pressure. Your head falls back against the rough brick wall of the alleyway as you let out a loud moan, his fingers rubbing circles around your clit nearly making your knees give out from that alone. “You sound so good making those noises for me, slut. I can’t wait to have you screaming for me.”

He finally pushes his two fingers back and dips them inside of you with no resistance, your body accepting them more than willingly, and you both let out a moan at the feeling, your back arching away from the wall as he curls his fingers inside of you.

“Fuck!” You cry out, unable to stop yourself from reaching out and grabbing his left bicep, needing something to latch on to in the moment. Your left leg comes up and finds purchase on a pipe that ran along the wall, giving him more access to your dripping core. “Your fingers feel so good,” you’re breathless as you speak. “Please don’t stop.”

His fingers start a quick pace inside of you, pumping in and out while also curling them inside, soft grunts leaving his mouth as he pleasured you. He was enjoying this almost as much as you were. “God, you’re so loud. You sound so fucking hot.” He praises you, clearly turned on by the way you’re crying out for him.

He halts for a moment with his fingers deep inside of you, making you pull your head up from the wall and look down at his fingers before you look up at him, confusion clear on your face. “Why’d you st- oh!” You moan out and throw your head back again, hand gripping harder on his bicep as he starts to move his hand back and forth now, palm pressed firmly on your clit as he fingers you rapidly, causing your first orgasm of the night to rip out of you with a scream, body shaking and barely able to stand up straight. Although this orgasm was different. It was harder, more intense, and you realize you’re still cumming as he keeps pumping his fingers inside of you, hot liquid pouring out of your already dripping pussy and draining down your legs, creating a puddle underneath you where you stand.

He pulls his fingers out of you when he’s had enough and drags them over your swollen clit, making your body jerk when he starts rubbing it quickly, overstimulating you and causing a tiny bit more liquid to pour out. You cry and use your left hand to push his away from you, not being able to take anymore.

But he doesn’t care if you had time to collect yourself or not, and he’s pulling his cloak up to unveil his still hard cock, desperately waiting to fuck you senseless until you couldn’t even stand up straight anymore. “I’m not done with you,” he reveals. “You think I’m just going to let you cum one time and walk away? No. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t fuck anybody else without thinking about me and wishing I was there to fucking ruin you all over again.”

You breathed heavily as you looked at him, or rather the mask that hid the man that was absolutely draining you of any energy you had left for the night, a fucked out expression already adorning your face. “I was hoping you weren’t done,” you breathed out, letting a smirk fall on your features briefly.

“Don’t get fucking mouthy,” he growls, grabbing your leg that was perched up on the wall and slinging it around his waist, using his other hand to guide his cock to your entrance, teasing briefly before shoving inside of you, bottoming out on the first thrust. You screeched at the feeling, using both hands now on each bicep to grip onto him for some sort of leverage, needing to ground yourself somewhere.

“Oh my fucking god!” You cry out, tears filling your eyes, a mixture of the pleasure and the stretch. You weren’t always sex crier, but sometimes when it felt particularly overwhelming, you couldn’t help a few tears from falling.

He doesn’t wait long before he starts thrusting inside of you, low grunts leaving his lips and traveling through the mask, turning you on even more. “God, you feel so good,” he says breathlessly. “I can’t believe you’re so turned on by a fucking serial killer. You’re a freak, you know that? I should kill you and leave your body here just like this so everyone knows you died a stupid fucking slut.”

Your jaw was slung open, eyes half lidded as you stared at the mask in front of you, barely able to comprehend the words spilling from his mouth, but the words that stuck in your brain made you even hornier. He was right, you were a freak. This should be anything but sexy, but to you it was the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced. “You could kill me…” you start, smiling lightly as you speak. “And my last words would be thank you.”

The sound of skin slapping against skin was the only thing to be heard aside from the heavy breathing and moans coming from both of you.

He grunts in response, bringing his left hand that isn’t holding your leg down to your clit, rubbing quickly in time with his thrusts, making you whimper loudly, throwing your head back against the harsh brick wall. “Fuck!” You nearly scream.

The feeling of both was far too much, your second orgasm slamming into you like a truck, your hands reaching down to his hips to push him out of you, your head shooting up to look down at where you gushing again, a second time for the night. Your thighs shook as you struggled to hold yourself up, moans still leaving your lips as your orgasm faded, turning into soft whimpers. “I-I can’t, I’m done.” Your voice is shaky, eyes barely able to stay open as you bring them up to look into the eyes of the mask.

He laughs. Not a chuckle, he full on laughs, throwing his head back in time with the heavenly sound leaving his mouth. “You’re done?” He questions, looking back towards you. You had black tear tracks running down your bright red cheeks, your lips were puffy from biting on them, and he couldn’t tell if it was drool or precum all over your chin; probably both. “I don’t remember you being in charge.”

Keeping your leg wrapped around his waist, he uses his left hand to reach into his back pocket, the one across from the blade still resting comfortably, and dips into it, coming back out with a piece of fabric. You weren’t sure what it was, but when he unfolds it and holds it up to you, you realize it’s a thin, long piece of fabric.

A blindfold.

“Be a good girl for me and close your eyes,” he whispers in your ear, and all you could do was obey. Your eyes fluttered shut, realizing that your trust was fully in this man. He really could do anything he wanted to you now, and you wouldn’t be able to see it coming.

His hands come up and tie the blindfold behind your head, making sure it’s secure enough that you can’t see through the bottom, but not tight enough to hurt, not that not hurting you was particularly on the top of his priority list. “You’re so good for me,” he praises, running his thumb over your cheek, gently flitting over your bottom lip before leaving your face completely. “Can you hold this for me?”

Your hand reaches out instinctively, blinding feeling for whatever he spoke of. Something touched your hand, and you grasped your fingers around it, unable to figure out what it was, until you felt him slowly moving downwards, your leg now resting on his shoulder as he placed his hands on your thighs, squeezing them roughly. His lips dragged over the tops of your thighs, pressing lightly in soft kisses every couple of seconds, getting closer to your core where you needed his mouth the most.

Your free hand that wasn’t wrapped around his mask tangled in his hair, threading through it gently, chest heaving in anticipation. Your hips pressed forward and your back fully leaned against the wall behind you when you felt his lips finally press against your wet folds, kissing softly there before he dragged his tongue from your hole to your clit, wrapping his lips around the swollen nub and sucking roughly, hands pushing your legs farther apart for him.

Your senses were elevated with the lack of vision, tingles erupting over your whole body as he ate you out like his life depended on it. You moaned out, hands gripping his hair harder now. “Oh my god,” you breathe. “That feels so good, baby, please don’t stop.”

He only hums against your pussy, sending shivers down your spine. He eats you out ruthlessly, wet noises filling your ears alongside the pounding from your racing heart. His tongue was working magic on your clit, expertly coaxing you to a third orgasm. You were so close, gently grinding your hips into his mouth, feeling the stubble around his chin creating friction between the two of you. Your thighs were aching from how hard they had been shaking, but nothing mattered except the feeling of where the two of you were connected.

“Keep going, please. I’m so close. You’re gonna make me cum again, baby.” Your voice was hoarse as you spoke.

Wanting nothing more than to rip your orgasm from you, he reached up and slid two fingers back into you while his mouth sucked on your clit, making you cry out. “Shit!” You screech, voice getting pinched as you came for a third time, knees buckling beneath you. He grabbed your hip with his free hand and held you up, while his other hand continued pumping inside you, tongue still working its magic. He swallowed the juices that flowed from your pussy, moaning at the taste.

“You taste so good,” he mutters against your skin, pulling his fingers out and dragging his lips along your thigh, nipping slightly at the goosebump covered skin. “I could eat you for hours.”

You whimper at the desperate sound of his voice, wanting nothing more than to look down and see the face looking back at you, but he stands back up to his feet, and you expect him to grab the mask from your hands and hide his face once again, but once he’s up to his feet and standing straight up, he leans forward and presses his lips to your neck, making your breath catch in your throat. He litters small kisses there, before sinking his teeth into the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, sucking a deep red mark into the skin.

You reach up and cup his own neck, tilting your head to give him further access and holding him close to you, breathing heavily as he marked his territory. “Are you done with me yet?” You whisper, afraid to speak too loud and break the moment.

“No,” he whispers back, voice free of any effects, the raw tone of his voice ringing in your ears. “Not yet.”

His demeanor changes and he grabs a fistful of your hair, pressing his lips firmly to yours in an aggressive kiss, tongue sliding past your teeth and meeting your own. But it’s short lived, and he pulls away, snatching the mask from your hand.

Moments later, the blindfold is ripped from your face and you have to blink a few times to adjust your eyes to your surroundings again. You look down and see you’re standing in a puddle of your own release, legs and feet soaked in a mixture of spit and arousal, your shorts damn near torn to shreds. You were a complete mess, and you couldn’t imagine what there was left to ruin.

He reaches back into his pocket, pulling out the blade once more and holding it up to the side of your throat. “On your knees,” he demands, using his other hand to push your shoulders down, keeping the blade firmly against your neck as you fell to your knees again.

The feeling of the blade on your neck made your heart pick up pace, knowing that he could kill you at any moment with just a flick of his wrist, but the thought just made you reel even more. He picks his hand up off of your shoulder and grabs his own cock, rubbing it over your lips lightly, breathing out at the feeling of some sort of relief after pleasuring you for so long. Your eyes stare up at him innocently, sticking your tongue out and flattening it against the bottom of his dick, allowing it to slide into your mouth with ease.

You close your lips around him and moan at the taste of you and him hitting your senses, leaning your head in as far as you can take him, but it’s not enough for him, and he pushes your head back against the wall and starts fucking your throat, moaning loudly as he did so.

He was already so close to cumming, getting so worked up at the feeling of you falling apart on his tongue, that it wasn’t going to take him much to tip over the edge himself. His blade pushed harder into your neck as he started to lose control, and you started whimpering at the feeling, not knowing how far he was going to take it, or if he even noticed he was doing it. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, hips starting to stutter as he fucked your mouth.

Moments later, he pulls his dick out of your mouth and you reach up to grab it, pumping quickly with your tongue hanging out of your mouth, graciously accepting the load that shot out of him and all over your face, even into your hair. You stroked him through his orgasm and swallowed what landed on your tongue, staring up at him as he stared down at you, small moans and almost whimpers passing through his lips.

“Stop,” he chokes out, pushing your hand away from his sensitive tip. You just laugh in response as you drop your hand to your side, slowly standing back to your feet. “Now you know how I feel,” you tell him.

You both take a moment to collect yourself and catch your breath, the heaving in your chests gradually getting calmer.

“Shit,” he mumbles, reaching up and swiping his thumb over your neck, smearing a liquid you didn’t know was there. “I cut you.”

You look down at his thumb, red substance covering it. It should’ve been a little scary, the thought of the knife actually cutting into you and you didn’t even know, but you just grabbed his hand and brought his thumb to your mouth, sucking the blood off with a quiet pop.

“I think I’ll live,” you smile at him, reaching up to rip the mask off of his face, revealing your boyfriend’s messy brown hair and bright blue eyes staring back at you. He smiles and leans in to place a kiss on your nose, pulling back quickly.

“You ready to go home? I’m exhausted,” he laughs.

You giggle a bit and take a look at the mess that the both of you are. “You’re exhausted? I don’t think I can walk home, my legs don’t work anymore.” You tell him.

He just chuckles as he buttons his pants, the knife safely tucked away into his back pocket once more. “Good thing I brought the car then. Couldn’t risk anyone seeing you walking home like this. C’mon, it’s at the end of the alley. I’ll carry you.” He leans down and scoops you up, hands covering the hole in your shorts as he walks you to the car.

“Hey,” you speak up as he sets you in the passenger seat of your shared car.

“Hm?” He replies tiredly, looking down at you from where he stood.

“Can we maybe… keep the mask? Do this again some time?” You ask him bashfully, twiddling your fingers as he spoke.

Your boyfriend laughs and leans down to kiss your cheek, then brings his lips close to your ear.

“Of course. After all, the final girl always makes the sequel.”

a/n: ……

who did you imagine?👀

dare you to read it again and imagine the other one 😇

taglist

@nathangirl3

@vamp1re-bite

[queenpiranhadon]

what are your thoughts on katsuki's reaction when he finds out his partner has the same spice tolerance as him...

A/N: Oh, anon don't worry I have MORE than just thoughts... I actually love this prompt so I'm gonna write it a little differently than usual :) Here's the masterlist!

Warning(s): Cursing, reader likes spicy food, second or third year-ish, fluff, pre-established relationship, standard partner nicknames are used - dummy, babe, baby, etc, reader is gn but is written with f!reader in mind, double dates but it's just silly goofy

Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader, Mina Ashido x Ejiro Kirishima

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴡᴀꜱᴀʙɪ ─────•°•☁︎•°•────•

So from your wording, Bakugou finds out about your spice preferences at some point during your relationship, instead of before, which I don't think is as plausible because of his insane perception skills (he probably knows more about you than even you do before you guys even start dating- my man is a closeted nerd and you can't convince me otherwise). But if he did find out while you two were dating, the outcome would be hilarious.

Let's say you're in the UA dorms, whether you're in the hero course on not, you're just chilling in the kitchen waiting for your boyfriend to meet you downstairs. Class 1-A loves you a ton, and even though they tease you and Bakugou a lot, you both end up having a lot of Netflix and chill dates in the common room since the TV there has a shit ton of streaming services.

You put down your phone, sighing, and decide to be a little more productive instead- making your way to the common room to pick out a movie. It was tradition, between you, Katsuki, Kirishima and Mina to watch movies together every now and then as a double date- something Katsuki was adverse to but you knew he secretly enjoyed the chaos that ensued whenever the four of you were together- also realizing that if they weren't in his line of sight, they'd probably end up blowing up the dorms by accident anyways. He'd only said this once though, face turning bright red as you teasingly called him a mother hen.

Mina and Kirishima had started dating a few months ago (you and Katsuki had celebrated your 1 year anniversary two weeks prior to it ) and being the friend group you were, who could pass up an opportunity?. Kirishima and Katsuki very best friends, as were you and Mina, so it was a no-brainer that the four of you would have regular get togethers like this in the first place. You thought it was nice, seeing Katsuki interact with his friends as he relaxed, even if only a little, around his close friends.

You settle yourself down in the plush couch across from the TV screen, and feel the cushions dip as a new weight is added, seeing Mina Ashido plopping down next to you.

"Movie night!" she cheers, and she nudges you with her shoulder. "Some day we gotta ditch the boys and get through a movie marathon together- I swear Eji has the worst taste in movies, if I have to watch another Star Wa-"

"Hey! My taste isn't that bad!" Kirishima whines, coming up behind the both of you with Katsuki in tow. "Plus you keep asking to watch those K-dramas that get your mascara running."

Mina raises an eyebrow. "Eji, you cry more than I do during those."

Katsuki sighs and raises his hand in an attempt for peace. "Oi, shut yer mouths and go grab the pillows and blankets. Y/N and I will order food and pick out the movie."

Mina groans but relents, looking at you pleadingly. "Please chose a good movie - no ‘to be continued’s PLEASE"."

You snort, remembering how one time Kirishima had chosen Captain America: The Winter Soldier, which prompted the four of you to binge the entire MCU on a day without classes.

Scrolling through movies, you decide to choose a classic- the Matrix, something action packed enough to keep Kirishima (and Katsuki's) attention, and something with enough romance to keep Mina hooked.

As you navigate through the countless streaming services, Katsuki's voice pops up behind you.

"Oi, babe what do ya want to eat? Got some rolls dipped in wasabi for myself...I already know Shitty Hair's gonna ask for some chicken wings- an I got some tacos for Pinky cause I know she was whinin about cravin Mexican food earlier..."" He trails off, embarrassed when you grin knowingly in his direction.

You decide to be merciful though, shrugging and returning back to the TV. "I know very well that you're going to order from three different places just so all of us get what we want so I'll just share with you." you smile, and Bakugou's heart thumps softly from your thoughtfulness.

"Tch- whatever dummy. What do ya want in them- I know my rolls are pretty fuckin spicy - avocado, shrimp, cr-" He asks, but you cut his off with a bewildered look.

"What? Why wouldn't I get it with wasabi??" You ask dumbfounded. "That's like 85% of the flavor - plus it's kinda boring without it." you say, and your boyfriend's jaw drops open- as if you'd told him you were pregnant of something.

"Marry me."

You want to burst out in giggles, but stop when you see the deadass look on his face.

"Kats-"

"Jesus Christ baby, of all the shit ya hide from me, ya hide the most important one?!" He asks incredulously and that's when you start laughing.

"If ya told me this shit sooner I would've asked yer ass out the moment I met ya."

[bernardsbendystraws]

Fresh Air

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Check out my pinned post for more of my writing.

00 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 FINAL

Summary: One night at a party seems to change everything. A strange man with a friendly smile and a sleeve of patchwork tattoos seems to make you feel at home for a change. You're finally happy to have made a good friend to lean on - especially when it comes to your not-so-great relationship with your boyfriend. But what happens if you lean too much...what happens if you fall?

Warnings: 18+. This series contains mature themes, read at your own risk. (SMUT, angst, parental troubles, financial hardships, and more. Don't like, don't read.) This warning is made for all parts.

A/N: To be added to the taglist, send a request in my inbox or comment on the pinned post. I'm far more likely to see requests sent to my inbox.

With love and big tits, Rose.

11: Playing with his Lightsaber

wc: 1300+

What did we have to lose? The more time we spent together, the less I could remember what was holding me back to begin with. It just felt good. I didn’t wanna stop to think anymore, all I could do was roll by each day, clinging onto his arm and blocking out my own thoughts. 

It was an unspoken thing. Everyone knew we weren’t together-together, but they also knew there was something there that wasn’t there before. 

Matt’s arm weighs on my shoulders comfortingly, pulling me into his side as we sit on the couch. It was a really good day. We had rotted in our matching pjs all day, binge watching stupid shows and just being close. 

Manon had been hanging out with Nick more. It was no surprise when she came up the stairs after him, joining us on the couch and rambling on about nonsense. 

“I’m talking to this new guy,” she announces. My eyes perk. A new guy? She hadn’t talked to anyone for a while. 

“Can I see a picture?” I ask, frowning as she gives me a pointed look. 

Matt laughs awkwardly, “Is he really that ugly?” 

With a shake of her head, Manon starts to explain, “No. But, little miss stalker over there,” she glares at me, “-loves to dig more than she should.” 

It was true. I would stalk the guys shamelessly, finding any and all flaws. Dating sore losers in the past led me to be cautious, especially with the people I cared about the most. 

“I mean,” Manon puffs, looking around the room aimlessly, “-we could go on a double date if you wanna meet him,” she says. 

My eyes squint towards her. It’s a set up. She wants Matt and I to take things further instead of just ignoring everything. Did she really find a new guy just to prove a point? 

I’m surprised when Matt hugs me in closer to him. “We could. Do you, um…would you want to?” he asks, a quiet desperation laced in his voice. 

Would it really be so bad? 

I tilt my head to rest on his chest. His heart speeds up, drumming harshly. “I, um - I don’t see why not.” 

The excitement radiating off of Matt is apparent. His heart speeds up even more, his lips planting a swift kiss onto my scalp as he hugs me in tighter. 

I can feel his smile. 

___

Our first official date and we were getting ready together. Unusual, but it didn’t feel wrong. 

“Ugh. This doesn’t feel right,” I exclaim, tugging on my shirt as I stare at myself in the mirror. Nothing was fitting right, not even the couple of options I had brought over, thinking at least one of them would be good enough.

Matt comes up from behind me, nuzzling his face in the side of my neck while his hands gently massage over my hips. “I think you look pretty. What feels wrong?” he asks, letting his head rest on the crook of my neck. 

I can feel his breath on my neck. His lips graze over the skin, a shiver of delight crawling over my shoulders as my skin prickles. What did he even ask?

“How about,” he walks over to his closet, I find myself missing the warmth of his touch, watching as he pulls out my favorite hoodie of his, “-this?” he suggests. 

My lips curl into a smile. Matt hands me the soft fabric, his eyes softening as he looks down at me. The blue in his eyes seems so vibrant, so electric. I can feel something igniting in my chest just from his eyes staring into mine. 

“But - we’re going on a date,” I point out. 

Shaking his head, Matt starts to unfold the hoodie. “Doesn’t matter. You always love wearing this and I…well, I love seeing you in my clothes, all cozy.” 

Effortless. It feels so effortless. 

I don’t bother asking him to even turn around before peeling the shirt off. His eyes bulge at my appearance. My hand reaches for the hoodie, quickly pulling it over my body.

“I, uh…” He’s speechless. Scratching the back of his neck and clearing his throat, I can’t help but feel a tinge of satisfaction from his flustered behavior. I love being able to make him so… nervous. It’s a boost of confidence I’ve never seemed to get from anywhere else. At least not this intensely. 

The doorbell rings. Right on time. I nudge Matt’s shoulder with my own, grabbing my bag as we both start to walk towards the door. 

Manon is standing at the door, an unfamiliar man standing next to her with dorky glasses and a nervous smile. My eyes squint at the man before offering a small wave, “Hi, you must be Ashton, right?” 

He swallows thickly, nodding as his cheeks paint with a soft pink. Oh, he’s adorable, he doesn’t even look like he could hurt a fly. What was she scared of with me stalking him online? 

This really was a set up. 

“Yeah, yeah, greet each other in the car, let’s GO!” Manon says, turning around and practically sprinting to the car - presumably Ashton’s. It’s not super fancy. What catches my eye the most is a sticker on the bumper - a Star Wars sticker. 

I bet she enjoys his lightsaber. 

___

“C’mon, you got it,” Matt whispers. 

The feeling of his body caging mine from behind is comforting. I felt absolutely clueless, the sound of arcade games all playing over each other making it even harder to focus. This was the type of thing that made me anxious. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I couldn't seem to really care if I was doing it right or not - at least I was having fun. 

“Yep, anddddd….” I hear his tongue click on the roof of his mouth as he helps me drag the claw handle to the dispenser. Watching the stuffed moose fall down into the hole makes my chest flutter with excitement. “There!” he shouts, hugging onto me from behind as the buzzer goes off. 

For a moment, I forget everything and anything. No lingering thoughts of guilt or anxiety. It’s just us. 

Ashton and Manon had already left a while ago. They were cute together, still freshly enticed with each other, but it was definitely apparent that there was a lot of hope for the future. Especially when she won him a Yoda keychain. It was adorable how his face lit up and the shyness faded enough for him to hug her tightly. 

Matt hadn’t even let me carry my purse. He slung the bag over his own shoulder, not caring about the strange looks he got for carrying a ‘girl’ bag. His motive was frustratingly admirable. He wouldn't even let me have the opportunity to pay for something. 

Although, he still was attentive. My chapstick had been slid into my hands every time I started rubbing my lips together. 

Game after game, he made sure to help me, knowing I never really played them as a kid. I’m not worried about the stares from other people, wondering why a woman of my age didn’t know what game was what. All I’m worried about is how long this will last. How much time could we ignore the truth of the situation? 

Hayden had already begun shit talking on his podcast. Rumors had already started, people placing awful comments on my posts. But, I just couldn’t find it in myself to care. Not when everything felt so perfect. So right. 

“Wanna head home? Sleepover or…?” Matt trails off, pulling out his phone to order an Uber. 

“Sleepover.” I answer

I should go home. I should sleep in my own bed, alone. Freshly out of a relationship and with the guy I technically cheated on with, but I couldn’t help it. This was undeniable. 

It was irresistibly, perfectly wrong.

[str4wb3rrysw3etheart]

Do you think you could write hcs of the boys at prom? 🥹 (post comic book store fire, since in the lore they didn’t go the first time)

OFCC!!!

Sfw ♡

Cw: suggestive in Petes and bills, bill needs to be pegged/j, usage of slut, Josh has a binge ed

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷

Bill

♡Did not want to go.. his mom barely let him go, but decided he needed to hang out with someone ..

♡He stands with you in the corner at the food table, eating the occasional snack, and complaining that his tie was too tight (his mom made him dress up)

♡If you try to dance with him, he will blush from embarrassment and refuse, saying that it's dumb.. just make him he's pathetic (I love him)

♡Try to kiss him? Hes bright red. He chewed four packs of gum and brushed his teeth for 30 minutes to prepare for this, but still..

♡He stares.. a lot, he finds you so domestic in a dress, and he feels manly. He yaps about how good of a house wife you'd be..

♡He sulks in the corner if you go off to talk to someone else.. you're litterally his only friend there.

♡Will ask to go to the bathroom (to get lucky..) multiple times. Unless you say yes he gets whiner and whiner each time

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷

Pete

♡Finds the whole thing stupid, but goes, he doesn't wanna upset the only women to EVER talk to him..

♡Dances with you, and tries to be romantic, but kinda sucks at it.. just making sexual (and slightly objectifying ..) remarks

♡Doesn't dress up at all. He's wearing his normal clothes..

♡Refuses to let you go off with your friends, following you around, not really interested in your friends in the slightest.. what good are they anyway?

♡Tries to ... well.. get lucky with you at the end of the dance (if you want more details thats another fic)

♡If you kiss him he's just a bit too into it.. he sucks at it though.. (teaching Pete how to kiss fic coming up??/hj)

calls you horrendous petnames the whole time (women , sugar, slut)

♡Lowkey he makes you leave early and watches a movie with you instead, complaing that there were too many normies there..

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷

Josh

♡VERY nervous to go to prom.. he made his mom do his hair, spent two hours cleaning himself up, and practicing how to kiss and what to say in the mirror..

♡Forgets all that he practiced as he sees you, You're the prettiest thing he's ever seen..

♡Tends to eat a lot of food out of his nervousness, so best believe he is by that snack table..

♡When you try to dance with him, he sucks at it. Stepping on your feet and tripping the whole time.. he has clearly never done this before

♡When you kiss him, he doesn't reciprocate at first, freezing up, he eventually leans into it, I'll admit a bit messily, but he's okay at kissing

♡Nervous rambles the whole time, he can't shut up. Normally he goes silent from anxiety, but I guess if he can't give you a minute alone with your thoughts you won't decide to leave him because you can't think about it

♡Once he gets more comfortable, he sweats a bit less, still on edge, but trusts you.. happy to be there with someone he loves.

♡Definitely called you milady at least once. Wanting to cry from embarrassment when you laughed.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷

Jerry

♡Actually went there mostly on his own accord , didn't take much convincing when you asked

♡He is still a bit awkward the whole time, but he tries to mask it, acting confident as if he didn't cry over his hair not looking right for you 20 minutes ago..

♡Is most familiar with dancing, he's been to plenty of weddings for family members he doesn't remember

♡When you kiss him, he kisses back almost immediately, but you can feel how sweaty his palms are

♡Actually makes an effort to seem.. normal? While there. Talking with your friends if you bring them over, and being respectful of you wanting space

♡Tries to drink the punch, and it ends up being spiked and is so wobbly is almost comical. He is a huge lightweight

♡Compliments your dress like 15 times, trying to cover up that's why he was staring, and not anything else... nooo...

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷

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[revelboo]

Man I was just binging on all you writing, barking and running up the walls over it, thinking about how much I hoped ya would do TFA OP and then I refresh and THERE IS MAH BOI?!?!? To the person that sent that ask BLESS YOU AND BLESS YOU FOR *ALL* THE WRITING IM LIVING?!?!?!? IS THIS HEAVEN???? MAYBE!

🤣 I loved TFA when it originally aired, but tend to forget it sometimes

So Hobby Lobby has their model kits 40% off and carry FlameToys in store…

Broken Heart Pt 2

TFA Optimus x Reader

• Weight straining his joints, he can’t move as he tries to keep on his hands and knees, frame curled over the small shape under him. Doesn’t dare try to until he hears Blitzwing fly away and he thanks Primus the triple changer didn’t bother to check to make sure he’d been destroyed, too insane to stay focused on the task. Aware that you’re lying under him, but unmoving now.That even though he’d taken the brunt of the impact, it might have been too much for you and he’s afraid to look too closely at you. To see that he failed and you won’t survive.

• Feeling bruised, you lift your head and can’t believe the big robot is using his body to shield yours. That he’d tried to protect you. And his denta are bared, like he’s in pain as he keeps the rubble off you, his arms trembling. Shifting under him, he makes a noise. “Are you okay? Can you move?” He asks, deep voice strained. “I can’t hold this much longer.” And you realize he’s asking you to save yourself. To abandon him and get to safety.

• Knows Bulkhead is enroute, but not how far out the other Autobot is. Arms already shaking as he tries to keep his elbow joints from buckling. And you’re not budging, too hurt to escape? “What can I do to help?” Looking down he can see your dusty face staring back at him. Terrified, but determined. Making him think of Sari, so small and so stubborn. Venting roughly, he forces a smile. Pretends it’s okay.

• “Get clear. I can try to shift it,” he says, those shockingly blue optics holding your eyes. Exhaling, you crawl out between his arms and tense watching him try to shift the massive chunks of concrete, to get them to slide sideways off of him. One of his arms buckling and he groans, disappearing for a moment as your heart stops. Then the rubble is shifting as he struggles to move it making you realize how incredibly strong he really is. Making you wonder again why he’d bothered to try and save you. Amazed that he’d even noticed you on the overpass.

• Slowly, painfully, he pushes against the rubble and then there’s little hands pulling at the smaller pieces. Trying to help him even though he’d told you to get clear. Can’t believe you’re trying to help him instead of running. It’s a relief when Bulkhead arrives, lending his own hands to digging him out. Head bowed, damaged but alive he accepts Bulkhead’s hand and lets the other bot pull him to his feet. “Optimus, you okay?” Bulkhead asks, glancing down at you and he follows Bulkhead’s stare. “Yeah,” he says, distracted. Your dirt streaked face upturned, jacket torn, and knee bleeding as you wrap your arms around yourself. Trembling now that the danger is over. Cold and hurt. It’s what makes him take a knee, a hand outstretched. “Want to come with us? Get cleaned up?” He offers and you hesitate before cautiously touching a hand to his servo.

Previous

Next

[windser]

where the apple falls

pairing: amnesia, exbf! caleb x reader rating: t wc: 1700+ a/n: based off this post. this will be a series of drabbles. i will also be working on other exbf! caleb verse. that is the trope for him the resonates most with me. after reading his story, i'm soooo excited to write about him. happy to take requests relating to both tropes!

“hmm, jian bing? normally i have to accumulate quite a bit of favors to wake up to this. what’s the occasion?”

a homemade cure to job memory loss, sits on your tongue like a secret. but you swallow it down, tasting every word you can’t admit. it’s only been a week. since then, caleb has seen the physicians once more—three days since returning to your home for a follow-up.

but just those seventy-two hours had felt like distant memory. the first morning had been the most jarring. caleb had walked into the apartment as if he’d only returned from a day at work, not nearly a week in the hospital, though even the small missed him longer. his only moment of hesitation was the brief pause when his eyes caught on the small changes you had made since the breakup.

the furniture remained the same—too much hassle to replace—but you'd taken quiet, deliberate steps to erase him. gone were the photos of shared milestones, absent were his awards and accolades. the tangible pieces of caleb had vanished, leaving only the slowly healing void in your heart.

the physician had given you ample time to prepare your home for his discharge, clear instructions to recreate a familiar space that mirrored the fragments of his memory. but you’d balked at the thought of resurrecting the past. now the remnants of the last four years were still stored away in the recesses of your closet. 

selfish, perhaps. misguided, maybe. but a part of you refused to accept the accident—not just the memory loss, but the implausibility of it all. caleb, always composed, prepared for anything? reduced now to a vulnerable man clinging to fractured echoes of what was? 

it didn’t sit right with you.

you watched as his gaze drifted over the near-barren walls and mismatched artwork. his jaw tightened, barely perceptibly, lips parting as if testing words that refused to form. his shoulders rose once, twice, then sagged in quiet surrender before he turned to you with a smile so perfectly broken it felt like a carefully crafted illusion.

"still in the middle of some deep cleaning, huh? i appreciate you getting everything ready for me to come back home. why don't I help get it back in order?"

at the check-up, the physician warned you: patience was crucial. recovery couldn’t be rushed without risking setbacks. most cases resolved themselves with time, they assured you.

just be patient.

“i thought some of your favorites would help you remember” you offered instead, glancing over your shoulder quickly before turning your attention back to the stove. “it’s almost done.”

caleb didn’t respond at first as he sat down at the kitchen bar, still dressed in his sleepwear. he couldn’t have been up for more than a few minutes, likely just long enough to take his part of medication before arriving. the others would require a meal to go with them.

“i couldn’t have missed that much,” he said finally, voice laced with casual dismissal. “i don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

it was eerie, how easily he brushed off nearly a year of his life.

you set a cup of coffee down in front of him with a mishandled grimace. “this is serious, caleb. you can’t just report a wrong date and think everyone is going to write it off. ” it was becoming just a bit more than a little frustrating how light he took the situation. 

his hand shot out, catching your wrist before you could turn away. his grip was firm but not unkind, his thumb brushing absently over your pulse.

“i am taking it seriously,” he said quietly, his eyes steady on yours. “do you understand how troubling it is to hear you've lost months of time?”

“could have fooled me.” you mumbled under your breath, tugging half-heartedly at his arm.

“what was that?” his voice sharpened slightly. “it doesn’t help when you mutter.”

you exhaled sharply, meeting his gaze. “i said you’re not exactly helping yourself, caleb. It was okay at first to adjust. i know you were in pain, and it was jarring, but—” your voice cracked, the words caught in your throat. you cleared it hastily, averting your eyes. the physicians had warned you to avoid accusations, anything that might exacerbate his confusion or headaches. caleb’s expression tightened as he read the unspoken in your hesitation.

“but?” he pressed. his grip on your arm loosened, though he didn’t let go.

“it doesn’t feel like you’re trying to get better,” you said, wincing as you braced for his reaction.

instead, you felt the soft press of his lips against your temple.

“i don’t even know what ‘better’ looks like,” he murmured. “I’m doing what i was told. resuming routines. beyond that…” his thumb brushed your cheek as he trailed off. “you’ve got your orders too. sure you’re doing your part?”

you shoved at his chest, though there was no real force behind it. “that’s not funny.”

he didn’t laugh, though his eyes glinted with suppressed amusement. “okay okay, i know. it’s just... a lot to process. being told your life isn’t what you thought it was.” he sipped his coffee. “i mean, what could i have possibly missed?”

your gaze dropped to the mug, a relic of the past—the one you’d gifted him when he got his fleet position. “a lot, caleb. a lot.”

“well, they told me to take it one step at a time. i’m still processing it all. still can’t believe the news headlines”

“pretty sure you were told to not overwhelm yourself,” you countered.

he shrugged. “i binged all the new seasons of our sitcoms. i get bored.”

“and nothing triggered even the smallest memory?”

“it might help if you just told me what i’m forgetting.”

you stiffened, jaw tight. “you’re supposed to recall them naturally.”

caleb leaned back, studying you with quiet intensity. “then we just keep going as we were. i have you, and you have me. what else matters?”

“caleb…” your voice faltered, a lump rising in your throat. “that’s not—”

“i’m sorry.” his tone softened as he tugged you closer. “i know this is hard for you too. there are probably things you want to tell me…” his hands steadied you as he guided you onto his lap.

your faces were so close now that you could feel the faint heat radiating from him, a warmth that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. it struck you as almost cruelly ironic how, in a way, you were both reliving memories—but only you felt the hollow ache of the gaps between them. you could count every one of his dark lashes, each one a delicate frame to the deep gaze fixed on you. and then your eyes betrayed you, flickering downward to caleb’s mouth: light pink, nicely shaped, and far too familiar. you knew, if you gave in and pressed your lips to his, they’d taste soft, warm, and faintly of coffee.

“yeah,” you replied, though your voice was barely more than a breath.

“yeah,” caleb echoed with a faint, lopsided quirk to his lips. “just… give me a bit more time, okay? right now, despite the aches in my body, nothing has ever felt more right. it’s always been like this with you.” his voice softened, becoming something raw and fragile. “i wouldn’t trade this for anything. not even for the memories I’ve lost.”

“that’s not okay, caleb,” you said tersely, the words rising unbidden in your throat. “you can’t just disregard the past—or the future.”

his head tilted slightly as he studied you, something unspoken glimmering in his eyes. for a moment, silence stretched thin between you before, without warning, caleb stood up. you barely had time to react before you were flipped upside down, your world spinning as blood rushed to your head.

“caleb, what are you doing!?” you yelped, hands scrambling to clutch the fabric of his shirt in tight fists.

“just hang on,” he said, voice far too calm for the chaos he’d just unleashed.

he carried you the short distance to the couch with an unsettling ease, his shins pressing against the edge before he lowered you onto the cushions. a pillow fell to the floor in his wake, discarded like an afterthought.

in the shock of it all, you barely registered his hands threading gently through your hair, the sensation grounding you even as your mind reeled. his gaze traced the lines of your body as though committing them to memory, an intensity that made your breath hitch. caleb had always been intense, after all—a force that could bring everything in its path to kneel. that much hadn’t changed. but now, there was something else. a weight behind his actions, a shadow you couldn’t quite name.

he wasn’t holding you down, but his presence blanketed you, toeing the fragile line between comfort and constraint.

when his lips descended, it felt inevitable, like the pull of gravity. a soft, tentative brush at first, before returning with more intensity, more hunger, as if savoring the moment like a man starved. his kiss was familiar in all the ways that made your heart ache, every motion perfectly attuned to what you liked, what you craved.

when Caleb finally pulled away, you instinctively leaned forward, chasing the warmth of his mouth. but he had already shifted, his lips grazing along your jaw, leaving a trail of nips and feather-light kisses in his wake.

it was still caleb. caleb, who always knew exactly how to undo you.

your eyes fluttered open, stealing a glance at him as he kissed the curve of your neck. you weren’t sure what you were looking for—a sign, a clue—but all you saw was caleb. just caleb.

despite it all.

despite your suspicions.

he was okay.

and despite everything, the thought of losing him still felt unbearable.

caleb sighed softly, leaning back to look at you. his hand drifted to your face, a knuckle brushing against your cheek in a gesture so tender it made your chest tighten. you leaned into his touch without thinking.

“i’ll figure it out,” he murmured, his voice low but steady. “i always do.”

and in that moment, as his words settled in the space between you, you couldn’t quite recall why that wasn’t a good thing.