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miniscapes333 · 2 days ago

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Passionate confession from your FS (18+) (Possesive edition) (part - 1)

PICK A PILE READING LOVES ;)

👇 [PILE - 1] 👇[PILE - 2]

👆 [PILE - 3]

Disclaimer: The images featured are not mine. All credit and rights belong to their original creators.

PILE 1

"You have no idea what you do to me. Or maybe you do. Maybe you see it—the way my jaw clenches when you walk into the room, the way my fingers twitch like they ache to touch you, the way I have to exhale slowly when you get too close, just to keep myself from doing something reckless. Do you feel it, the charge in the air when we’re near each other? It’s unbearable sometimes, the tension, the pull. You’ll brush past me—just the faintest graze of your skin against mine—and I’ll have to force my hands into my pockets, grip the nearest surface, do something to stop myself from dragging you into the nearest secluded corner and making sure you know exactly how badly I’ve been craving you. I don’t think you understand how much I struggle with this. With wanting you and not being able to have you the way I need to.

"And when I think about finally having you—really having you—I imagine it slow, deliberate. None of this rushing, none of this fleeting, stolen touches nonsense. No, when I get my hands on you, I’m taking my time. I want to feel your breath hitch when I kiss that spot just below your ear, want to watch the way your fingers grip the fabric of my shirt when I press you against me. I want to memorize you. The weight of your body against mine, the sound of my name on your lips when you finally let yourself melt into me. Because, love, I’ve been suffering for you. Every time our eyes meet across a crowded room, every time your fingers brush against my wrist absentmindedly—it’s torture. Do you know how many times I’ve had to sit next to you, watch you, be close but not close enough? My fingers flex at my sides, my lips part like I’m about to say something, but I hold it back. Every. Damn. Time. But one day? Oh, one day, I won’t hold back anymore.

"And when that moment comes? When I finally let go of every restraint, every ounce of self-control? I hope you’re ready for what that will mean. Because I promise you, once I start, I won’t stop. Not until I’ve unraveled every little guarded piece of you, not until my touch is so deeply imprinted into your skin that even when I’m not there, you’ll still feel me. My hands on your hips, my fingers tracing slow, lazy circles up your spine, my lips ghosting over yours just to make you wait a little longer, just to hear that soft, impatient sound you make when you want more. And when I do finally give in? Oh, sweetheart… you will know—body, mind, and soul—just how deep my devotion runs."

PILE 2

"You drive me crazy, you know that? It’s not just the way you look—though, trust me, that alone is enough to make my thoughts dangerous. It’s the way you move, the way you carry yourself like you know exactly what you’re worth. That quiet confidence, that effortless allure—it’s infuriating. Because it makes me restless, makes me reckless. I catch myself watching you when I shouldn’t, leaning in closer just to catch the scent of your skin, clenching my fists to stop myself from reaching out and pulling you into me like it’s my right. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? It should be. You should be mine. And yet, here I am, pacing the edge of my own self-control, caught somewhere between wanting to savor every moment and wanting to pin you against the nearest wall just to see how quickly I can make you unravel.

"You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined it—the moment I stop fighting this, the moment I finally let myself have you. The tension between us is unbearable, crackling in the air like a live wire, waiting for the right spark to set it all ablaze. And when it happens? When I finally let go? It won’t be some careful, delicate thing. No, it will be electric. Desperate hands, impatient lips, bodies pressing so close that the world outside ceases to exist. I want to hear your breath hitch when I whisper against your skin, want to see that sharp flash of surprise in your eyes when I finally break past that composure you wear so well. I know you feel it too, that need, that ache that’s been building between us like a storm on the horizon. And when it hits? There will be no stopping it.

"And after? Oh, don’t think for a second I’ll be done with you. No, I’ll have you wrapped in my arms, your body still humming with the aftermath, my fingers tracing lazy patterns against your bare skin like I’m committing you to memory. I’ll watch the way your lashes flutter, the way your lips part ever so slightly, like you’re still trying to catch your breath. And I’ll smirk—because I’ll know. I’ll know that I’ve ruined you in the best possible way. And when you finally close your eyes, thinking you’ll get a moment of rest? That’s when I’ll lean in, lips brushing against your ear, and whisper, ‘You didn’t actually think I was finished with you yet, did you?’"

PILE 3

"You test me. You push me. And I don’t even think you realize it. Do you know how hard it is to sit back and watch you move through the world like you don’t belong to me? To watch other people steal your time, your attention, while I have to sit there and pretend like it doesn’t drive me insane? I don’t do well with restraint—I never have. I’m a person who sees what they want and takes it, no hesitation, no second-guessing. But you… you make me hesitate. You make me wait. And I hate waiting. I hate the space between us, the distance I have to keep when all I want to do is pull you into me and remind you exactly who you belong to. Because you do belong to me, don’t you? Even if you don’t realize it yet, even if you keep playing this dangerous little game of making me work for it—you feel it too. I know you do."

"I’ve imagined it too many times—crossing that line, claiming what’s already mine. And trust me, when that moment comes, I won’t be gentle. I won’t be soft. Not at first. No, the first time I take you, I’ll make damn sure you feel it, that you know there is no one else who can touch you the way I can, who can own you the way I will. I can already picture it—my hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against me, the sharp little gasp you’ll make when I finally stop holding back. My fingers tilting your chin up just enough so you have no choice but to meet my eyes, so you can see the storm you’ve been stirring inside me all this time. And when I kiss you? It won’t be sweet. It won’t be careful. It will be a claim, a warning, a promise. Because once I have you, I’m never letting you go."

"And after? I’ll keep you close, one arm draped possessively around your waist, my fingers tracing idle patterns against your bare skin. I’ll watch you, the rise and fall of your breath, the way you still glow from what we just did. And just when you think I’ve finally calmed, finally had my fill? I’ll lean in, lips grazing the shell of your ear as I whisper, ‘You thought I was finished? No, sweetheart… we’ve only just begun.’"

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mapis-putellas · 7 hours ago

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𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅/𝑶.𝑩𝒂𝒕𝒍𝒍𝒆

Ona had been off all morning. You’d noticed it the second you woke up beside her. She’d been quieter than usual, taking longer than normal to get ready, her mind clearly elsewhere as she pulled on her training gear. Even on the drive to the training ground, she’d been distracted, fingers drumming against the steering wheel, barely responding when you spoke.

It wasn’t like her. Ona was always so present, so engaged. When she was with you, she was with you. But today, she was somewhere else entirely.

You didn’t push, though. You figured she’d tell you when she was ready.

It was only when you were standing on the sidelines watching training that you realised just how much of a distraction whatever was on her mind actually was.

She was playing poorly, uncharacteristically sloppy with her touches, mistiming her runs, fumbling simple passes. Even the other players had started to notice, shooting her confused looks whenever she misplaced the ball.

And then it happened.

A sharp, powerful pass from Mapi, completely unintentional, but heading straight for Ona. She had plenty of time to react. Any other day, she would have controlled it perfectly, spun away from her marker, continued play like nothing had happened.

But she wasn’t paying attention. The ball smacked her square in the face, a loud, unmistakable sound, and she went down immediately.

You were on your feet before you even realised it, heart leaping to your throat as you rushed onto the pitch, ignoring the amused whistles from a few players and the exasperated sighs from the coaching staff.

“Ona!” You dropped to your knees beside her, hand cupping her face, your stomach twisting at the sight of the blood trickling from her nose. “Oh my god, baby, are you okay?”

She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “Me duele…”

You reached for the hem of your sleeve, gently pressing it to her nose, ignoring the way she winced and the red that now stained your shirt. “That looked brutal. You weren’t even looking.”

She peeked at you, face scrunched in discomfort. “No lo vi.”

“No, you didn’t,” you said, exasperated. “What is going on with you today?”

Before she could answer, Mapi appeared beside you, guilt all over her face. “Mierda, Ona, lo siento. I didn’t mean to-“

“Yeah, yeah,” Ona grumbled, still holding her nose. “You just have a rocket for a foot.”

Mapi winced. “It’s not broken, right?”

You shot her a glare. “If it is, I’m fighting you.”

Ona let out a pained laugh. “No pelees con Mapi.”

“Then tell me what’s wrong,” you shot back.

Her cheeks flushed, but before she could say anything, the team’s medical staff finally reached her, gently nudging you aside as they examined her nose.

“It’s not broken,” one of them confirmed after a moment, dabbing away the blood with a piece of gauze. “But you’re going to have some swelling.”

Ona sighed in relief, though she still looked embarrassed.

Mapi clapped her shoulder. “Well, at least it’s not your lips.” She not so subtly gestured to you. You, who was still knelt next to her looking less than happy.

Ona glared at her. “Vete a la mierda.”

Mapi just grinned and jogged off, back towards Ingrid who was watching the whole situation from afar.

You, however, weren’t letting it go.

By the time you got back to her apartment, Ona was still oddly quiet, sitting at the edge of the bed, gingerly pressing an ice pack to her nose.

You stood in front of her, arms crossed. “Okay. Spill.”

She avoided your gaze. “Spill qué?”

You scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. You weren’t paying attention today. You got smacked in the face because you were too busy thinking. And I want to know what you were thinking about.”

She swallowed, still not looking at you.

“Ona.” You softened, stepping closer and crouching down before gently tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to meet your eyes. “Talk to me, baby.”

She exhaled shakily. “I…I wanted to ask you something.”

You frowned, brushing your thumb along the sharpness of her jaw. “You can ask me anything. You know that.”

She hesitated for a long moment before finally saying, “Move in with me.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

Her grip on the ice pack tightened slightly. “I was going to ask you. Today. But then I got nervous, and I started overthinking, and then-“ She gestured vaguely to her face.

Your chest ached, but not from worry this time.

“Ona,” you murmured, voice soft.

She swallowed. “I know we spend most nights together anyway, but I want-I want it to be always. I want you here. With me.”

Your heart swelled. You leaned in, brushing your nose ever so gently, against hers, smiling when she sighed softly at the touch. “Of course I’ll move in with you, baby.”

Her eyes flickered up to yours, hope flickering in them. “Sí?”

You kissed her, light and tender. “Sí.”

She let out a breath of relief, her hands coming to rest on your waist, pulling you closer.

“Though,” you added, a teasing lilt to your voice, “maybe next time you have a big question to ask, don’t let it distract you so much that you get smacked in the face?”

She groaned, burying her face in your shoulder. “Dios mío, nunca voy a vivir esto.”

You laughed, arms wrapping around her. “Nope. Never.”

She squeezed you tighter. “I love you.”

You pressed a kiss to her hair. “I love you too, baby. And I can’t wait to live with you.”

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @ktgoodmorning @chelseacult

#ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #ona batlle x you #woso community #woso x reader #woso appreciation #woso imagine #fluff #woso fanfics #woso one shot

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darlingdaisyfarm · 1 day ago

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⋆｡‧˚ʚ 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

⸝⸝ 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒚, 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍, 𝒇𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅 ⸝⸝

a/n: i was thinking about this for a while and just HAD to write it!! Bill's a little freaky but ok. everyone kisses differently and i love how much that says about them :) maybe i'll do a part two tho idk if it'll be smth nsfw or no. also sorry if photos are random i just think it suits gravity falls aesthetic plus i was out of ideas (i want summer)

𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒚

Stan’s got a thing for forehead kisses, always has, always will. they’re effortless and easy. a quick press of his lips when he passes by, a habit more than anything. he’s a busy man, always moving, always going somewhere, but that doesn’t mean he won’t grab you, tilt your head up and press a warm kiss right to your forehead

it's a way of saying “i gotcha” without actually saying it. doesn’t matter if he’s in a rush, grumbling about tourists, wiping down the counter. he’ll keep you safe. he swears it.

big, warm hands cupping your face. his lips are warm, his stubble scratches against your skin but the moment you start to melt he’s gone.

he pulls back, smirks, winking at you

“gotta give the tourists their money’s worth, sweetheart.” you hear his voice through the walls of the Mystery Shack, always so confident as he launches into his usual con. “step right up, folks! come see the eighth wonder of the world!”

but, oh, don’t let that fool you. he’s a tease, and he knows it.

he’s got another favorite, too

your neck

he makes a game of it. a teasing peck when he leans in to tell you something. a slow, tender kiss at the curve of your throat when he’s feeling particularly smug, when he’s got you pinned between him and the kitchen counter, when he knows you’re hanging on to every little touch.

“heh. what’s that face for, baby? didn’t think id be so smooth, huh?”

he’s a biter, too, making you shiver. he needs to feel the way you react beneath his hands. he likes knowing he can fluster you. likes leaving you breathless, just for him.

and if he’s feeling real bold, his lips might stray lower, making a slow, lazy path along your collarbone. “what? somethin’ wrong? i think I’m right where i wanna be.”

𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅

Ford kisses like a man who’s spent most of his life not kissing anyone, like someone who’s read about it, thought about it, imagined it, but never quite gotten the chance. but when he feels the warmth, the closeness, how intimate it is he can’t stop.

he kisses your hands first, always. fingertips, knuckles, the inside of your wrist where your pulse flutters

your shoulders come next. he’ll press his lips there absently while he’s working, when you’re standing beside him reading over his notes. sometimes, he forgets himself, murmuring a distracted “mm, love you” against your skin before his smart brain catches up with his mouth. and oh the way his ears burn when you point it out

also when he’s overwhelmed, when the world is too much, when his mind is too loud, he rests his forehead there, brushing his lips against the curve of your shoulder. he just wants to feel you close

but when he’s really feeling it, when he’s past overthinking and just wants you, it's your calves. he kneels. Ford takes his time, hands so big, shaking a little as he presses his thumb into muscle while tracing a slow path from your ankle up, up, up with his lips

“you never let me appreciate you properly.” he worships you. lets you feel it in every single careful, thorough kiss.

𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒓

Bill isn’t bound by flesh, but he's bound by desire

he loves mirrors. loves floating there behind you, his golden triangle form looming over you, all-seeing eye staring right into your soul. oh he loves the way you shudder when you see yourself in the reflection, when you see him, wrapping around you

thousands of long, dark limbs curl around your waist, a hand-like thing at your jaw, tilting your head to the side, exposing your skin to him. Bill's mouth appears where his eye should be and oh, that tongue. . .

“nervous, sweet thing? don’t be. i’ll take real good care of ya.”

his tongue is long. obscenely so. it drags over your throat, a slow, hot stroke that sends a jolt straight through you. you hear him laugh delightfully against your skin, because he knows exactly what he’s doing

“aww who’s my favorite little human, huh? who’s my delicious little slab of meat?”

kiss after kiss, mark after mark, he makes you watch. makes you see the way he devours you.

and he doesn’t stop at your neck, oh no, no, no. he follows your spine. mouth pressing open. dragging his long tongue against the curve of your back, your chest, your stomach

“every inch of you is mine. dont you forget that.”

𝒇𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒎𝒄𝒈𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕

Fidds kisses every part of you that makes him smile.

“well, ain’t you the cutest lil’ thing!”

your cheeks. he just can’t help himself, he sees your face and boom! instant smooch. one cheek, then the other, peppering you with quick, excited little kisses

he giggles into kisses. always, always grinning. pecks to your cheek when he’s working, smooches to your temple when you bring him a snack, laughter between every single kiss because he can’t believe his luck.

“gotcha! hehehe, ya oughta see the look on yer face!”

your nose is next. he thinks it’s adorable. boop. peck. boop. peck

“who’s the cutest thing in the whole dang world? ohhhh, that’s right, it’s you!”

sometimes he’s so excited he forgets to aim and accidentally bumps his nose against yours, which only makes him laugh more

but the most special place, the sweetest is your eyelids.

he does it when you’re falling asleep, when you’re curling against him, feeling safe and warm. a press of lips to your closed eyes, so feather-light

“rest easy, darlin’. im right here.” and if he wakes up before you, if the morning sun is spilling golden across your skin, he does it again

because he loves you. because he just can’t help it

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f1girliefics · 2 days ago

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Love in the Fast Lane

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: A road trip turns into a heartfelt journey of love.

The hum of the engine was a soothing backdrop as Lewis drove, his sunglasses reflecting the sunlit highway stretching out ahead.

You sat in the passenger seat, your hand resting lightly on the console between you, and you couldn’t help but notice the smile playing on his lips.

He had been unusually quiet about the details of this trip, only saying he wanted to take you somewhere special.

“Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?” you asked, turning to look at him.

He glanced at you, his smile growing. “Where’s the fun in that? Just trust me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Trusting you got me into a car at 6 AM with no coffee. I think I deserve a hint.”

“Alright, alright,” he said as he reached to squeeze your hand before putting his back on the wheel. “It’s somewhere I used to go before everything got... hectic. A place that helps me think, you know?”

“That sounds perfect. Thank you for bringing me along.”

“Where else would you be, Love?” he asked with a smile before you reached to change the music.

The rest of the drive was filled with easy conversation.

He pointed out random sights along the way.

A quirky roadside diner.

A vintage car that zipped past, and you teased him about how he couldn’t resist critiquing other drivers.

After a couple of hours, the car slowed as he turned onto a narrow, tree-lined road. The lush greenery enveloped the path, and you felt a thrill of anticipation.

“This is it?” you asked, peering out at the scenery.

“Not quite,” he said, his voice teasing. “We’ve got just a little more to go.”

The road opened to a breathtaking view of rolling hills, the sun painting the landscape in gold.

Lewis parked the car at a small overlook and got out, rounding the vehicle to open your door.

“Ever the gentleman,” you teased, taking his hand as you stepped out.

“Always.”

He led you to a spot where a blanket and a small picnic basket had been set up. You blinked in surprise, turning to him. “When did you do this?”

“Magic, and a little planning.”

You sat on the blanket, Lewis handed you your favourite soda.

Conversation between you two was always something extremely calming and natural.

As the sun began to set, casting everything in a beautiful, golden light, Lewis grew quieter.

You watched him, noticing the way he seemed to be gathering his thoughts.

“Hey,” you said softly, touching his arm. “What’s on your mind?”

He looked at you, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

You tilted your head, smiling. “Is that so?”

He nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, velvet box.

Your breath caught as he opened it to reveal a stunning ring, the diamonds catching the sunlight even though there was not much sunlight left.

“Lucky that I get to spend my life with you,” he said, his voice steady but full of meaning and depth. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment to ask you this, and I realized there’s no such thing as the perfect time. Every moment with you feels right.” Your heart was pounding as he took your hand. “Will you marry me?”

For a moment, all you could do was nod. “Yes,” you managed to finally say, your voice breaking. “Yes, of course.”

He slipped the ring onto your finger, his hands steady even as yours trembled.

Then he pulled you into his arms, holding you close.

“Guess I’ll have to drive carefully on the way back,” he murmured into your hair.

You laughed through your tears of happiness, pulling back to look at him. “Why’s that?”

“Because now I’ve got my future wife in the car,” he said, his grin breaking through.

The rest of the evening was you going through Pinterest having to look at different wedding aesthetics, trying to find the most perfect one.

"Since you are a knight... can we hold the wedding in a castle?" you asked and Lewis laughed.

"So you can be the Princess and me the Knight in shining armour?"

"Or a nice Armani suit. I'm not forcing you into anything metal." Lewis nodded.

"We will do everything you want, Princess."

And as you drove back, you couldn't look away from your beautiful ring. A proud smile on his lips and a very happy one on yours.

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mooniema · 3 days ago

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· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Se-mi x reader hcs

pairing ; Se-mi x f!reader

summary ; just some hcs of mine of what a relationship with Se-mi would be in a world, where she never participated in the games

warnings ; shitty writing i guess and she might be a little ooc idk

a/n ; why do they always kill the wuh luh wuhs

Men dni

Before your relationship:

When you first saw her, your breath was taken away by how cool she was

Not only her appearance with her pretty face, effortlessly styled hair, cool outfits, piercings on her face and rings on her fingers, but also her whole demeanor and vibe

It's no surprise, it was hard for you to approach her

When you finally managed to talk to her, you quickly found out, that she isn't as intimidating as her looks make it seems. Atleast not to you

You quickly developed a fat crush on her, after you started spending a lot of time with her (typical wlw behaviour)

You didn't think she would like you back, especially cause she still seems distant and never really opens up to you, although you noticed that she seems to have some problems with how troubled and stressed she often is

She, on the other hand, didn't confess, because she doesn't want you to get involved with her debt

But one night, when you both were in a bar and drunk, she saw someone else trying to make a move on you, she couldn't resist interfering

Especially cause you looked uncomfortable

That night, you two talked a lot and it ended with drunken confessions and you sleeping at her place, where she woke you up with breakfast

One week after that, she took you out on a date and you two got together

In your relationship:

Your first date would be a rather calm one

She´d come to your home to pick you up with your favorite flowers and then she´d go shopping with you and take you somewhere nice to eat afterwards

She is a very affectionate and caring lover

Doesn´t matter if its in public or in private, dhe always finds a way to be close to you and touch you

She doesn´t mind pda at all if it´s not straight up making out in front of other people

If you do pda or not all depends on you and your boundaries

In private she is even more touchy and clings onto you often

She just really likes being near you and feeling your skin under her touch

She is also a very protective person, when it comes to your loved ones

If someone makes you uncomfortable, she will be by your side in a matter of seconds, her arm around your shoulders and shamelessly flirting with you

If they don´t get the hint then she´ll get more blunt about it and if they don´t stop by then, she starts threatening them

While she knows you can handle yourself, she´d rather handle creeps herself

She is also someone, who doesn´t get really jealous

After all she is a very confident person and she trusts you

But she does prefer it, if your attention is on her

If you don´t pay enough attention to you, she´ll be a lot more flirty and touchy towards you to get your attention

Arguments with her are rather rare

And even if you both do have a disagreement, she tends to stay calm and collected, rarely snapping on you

If she does notice that you are getting more heated, then she´ll convinve you, that you should both talk again once you have calmed down

Once you are calm again, she´ll sit down with you to talk calmly about the situation

If she is in the wrong, she´ll quickly apologize to you and makes it up to you

Her main love languages are physical touch and quality time

Acts of service:

She really enjoys doing little things for you like tying your shoe laces, going out at night to get you your favorite snacks, bringing your favorite drink everywhere so you stay hydrated or holding your bags, when you want to go shopping, she got you covered

If she notices, that you are stressed, she´ll surprise you with a nice bath and wash your hair and will also try to help you with the task, thats stressing you out

Will also definitely nurse you back to health when you are sick

Quality time:

She really loves this one

Spending time with you is one of the things, that keeps her grounded

When spending time with you and going on dates, she really likes to do the more fun ones like going to an amusement park, but she also likes stuff like movie nights with you, where you can both relax together in your home

She also just enjoys being around you, while you two do different things

Physical touch:

Girl is soooo touchy

Always finds a way to touch you somehow

Her touch is so gentle like you are glass, which is easy to break

Her kisses are soft, but also passionate, although they tend to get a little fast paced if things get heated

Making out with her, she is not afraid to mark you

Leaving hickeys, that are hard to cover

She also likes to bury her hands in your soft hair, while making out

Gift giving:

She loves giving you little gifts and often comes home with flowers in her arms or a nice little bracelet for you

One time she gifted you a CD, which contains songs, that she played for you (i feel like she would play guitar)

Words of affirmation;

She is really good with words, knowing just how to cheer you up and motivate you

Your number 1 biggest supporter

She always makes sure you know, how loved you are and that she is always by your side and here to help you with your dreams

#wlw #squid game x reader #lesbian #wuh luh wuh #squid game #se mi squid game #se mi x reader #player 380 #headcanons #writers on tumblr

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heliosunny · 3 days ago

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Food for though???

How about yan phainon with someone as strong as mage reader?

I have reread all your anaxa's and phainon's fic for at least 10 times now haha

I need more crumbs of them if you don't mind :)

Yandere!Phainon x Elf!Reader

The moment Phainon saw you, he knew you were the key to victory. Elves were rare. Your kind did not meddle in mortal wars. Yet here you stood, radiant beneath the silver moon, your eyes as cold and unyielding as an untouched winter. You were beautiful, yes, but it was not beauty that made him fixate on you. It was power.

Elves were creatures of magic, of ancient spells and untamed energy. And Phainon, a warrior hardened by battle and ambition, was not a man who let go of what he needed.

“We will slay the dragon” he had told you, his voice rich with conviction. “And with your magic, the battle will be won.”

You had laughed. A cruel, elegant sound. “You think I would fight for you? How arrogant.”

He had expected resistance, but not the way you looked at him, as if he were beneath you. “I have no reason to help you, human.”

You turned, walking away, your regal posture exuding the pride of your kind. “You should know better than to chase what you cannot have.”

Phainon clenched his fists as he watched you disappear into the dense forests of your homeland. He did not believe in fate. But he did believe in taking what was meant to be his.

The enchanted woods around your home pulsed with the hum of old magic. No mortal should have been able to step foot here. Yet the moment you opened your door, he was there. Phainon stood just beyond the threshold, unshaken by the forces that should have repelled him. His tall, muscular frame cast a long shadow under the moonlight, his silver-white hair barely ruffled by the wind. His piercing blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent an unfamiliar chill down your spine.

Your fingers twitched, summoning the magic coiling beneath your skin. “You should not be here.”

He smirked, stepping forward. “And yet,” he murmured, “I am.”

Your magic should have burned him alive. The protective spells weaved into these lands should have swallowed him whole. And yet he stood there, untouched, unafraid. “You should leave” you warned. “Before I make you.”

Phainon exhaled a slow breath, as if amused by your defiance. “You are strong. But you already know that, don’t you?”

You stepped back.“I do not seek power.”

“But power seeks you.” His gaze flickered over you, sharp and assessing. “I came here because I refuse to accept a world where you waste yourself in solitude. You belong somewhere greater than this.”

“I belong to no one” you snapped.

His lips curled. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“You think I will stop?” His voice was softer now, too gentle for the weight it carried. “That I will let you walk away?”

Why was he so certain?

“You will fight by my side” Phainon continued “Not because I force you—but because you will see the truth in my words. The world is cruel, and you and I are the only ones who can shape it as we see fit.”

His hand reached out, and before you could move, he brushed his fingers against your hair. “You are wasting your freedom here” he whispered. “Come with me.”

For the first time, you feared that no amount of magic would ever keep him away.

Phainon whispered. “Come with me.”

You did not answer. The night air was thick with tension, the weight of his presence pressing against your senses. Your magic flickered at your fingertips, a silent warning.

But Phainon, the arrogant human that he was, stood unshaken. His piercing blue eyes locked onto yours, unrelenting.

“You should leave” you said coolly, power thrumming beneath your skin. “Now.”

Phainon exhaled slowly, tilting his head. “And if I refuse?”

You didn’t hesitate. A pulse of magic shot through the air, the wind bending to your will. The trees trembled as roots twisted and surged from the ground, forming a barricade between you and him. Phainon barely had time to react before the earth beneath him split open, a powerful gust aiming to throw him out of your land. But just as quickly—he countered.

With a sharp movement, his foot slammed into the ground, sending a shockwave through the soil. Your attack faltered. The roots stilled, the wind dissipated. Your eyes narrowed. He met your gaze with quiet amusement.

“You are strong” he admitted. “Stronger than most.”

Your magic sparked again, an unspoken challenge. “And yet you still think you can control me?”

Phainon smiled. “Not control” he corrected. “Persuade.”

Your patience thinned. The audacity.

“I have no reason to fight for you, human.” Your voice was sharp, edged with warning. “Whatever goal you seek, find another fool to chase it for you.”

“I do not want just anyone.” His voice dipped lower, holding something dangerous beneath its smoothness. “I want you.”

Your magic pulsed again, a silent stay back. Phainon did not step away. “If you truly wished for me to leave” he murmured, “you would have cast me out by now.” A spark of anger flared in your chest. He was testing you.

“Careful, human!” you warned, power surging around you. “I do not take kindly to those who overstep their place.”

Phainon chuckled, unbothered. The wind howled between you, as if caught in the battle of wills. He did not command your power, nor did he steal it from you. He was your equal. And that was what made him dangerous. “You are too proud to admit it,” he said, “but you feel it, don’t you?”

His gaze burned into yours.

“The way our strengths match. The way the world is shifting. You are meant for something greater than hiding away in these woods.”

“I belong where I choose to belong.”

Phainon tilted his head. “But you hesitate.”

Your grip tightened on the staff at your side. “You mistake patience for hesitation.”

“Then prove it.” Power crackled in the space between you. An unspoken challenge. A battle neither of you wanted to lose. Phainon wasn’t just a warrior—he was a strategist. He would not fight you outright, not when he could break your resolve first. But he had made a mistake. You were not so easily broken.

With a flick of your wrist, the wind surged again, surrounding you both in a vortex of raw power. His silver-white hair whipped in the storm, his sharp blue eyes gleaming with something dark, something fascinated. “You can chase, human” you said coldly, daring him to try. “But you will never catch me.” And with that—you vanished into the night.

Phainon stood amidst the fading echoes of your power, exhaling a slow breath. His fingers curled slightly, the lingering warmth of your magic still brushing against his skin. “We shall see, little elf.”

The moment you vanished into the forest, Phainon chased after you. You had expected as much. He was stubborn.

A man who refused to accept defeat. The trees bent to your will, shifting and closing behind you, creating a maze of ancient roots and thickened shadows. A path only an elf could navigate. Yet Phainon kept coming. Your sharp ears caught the sound of his boots crushing the damp earth, his breath steady even as he pursued you through the labyrinth of enchanted wood. He was too fast for a human. You exhaled sharply, then turned and struck.

A bolt of pure energy exploded from your palm, crackling toward him like lightning. The ground trembled under its force. But Phainon did not falter. His hand shot up, and with a powerful sweep of his arm, his own energy surged to meet yours. The impact shattered the air between you, sending sparks flying. You did not give him a chance to recover. Spinning, you summoned the wind itself, a fierce gust howling through the trees. The air twisted into blades, razor-sharp and merciless. Phainon moved like a warrior born for battle. He dodged the first strike, his body shifting with trained precision. The second, he deflected with a sudden pulse of his own energy. The third—he met head-on.

Steel clashed against magic as he drew his sword, the blade slicing through your spell in a brilliant arc of silver light. You narrowed your eyes. So, he wished to test his luck with weapons? You raised your hand and the forest answered. Vines lashed out from the earth, twisting toward him like living serpents. The ground itself shifted beneath him, forcing him off balance. You lunged, striking with a burst of raw force meant to drive him away for good.

Phainon caught your wrist. The moment his fingers closed around you, time seemed to slow. His grip was firm, heated from the battle, unyielding in its certainty. His blue eyes burned with something almost unreadable—frustration, fascination. “Still running?”

You met his gaze, lips curling. “Still chasing?” A surge of magic exploded from your body, sending him flying back. He landed with a skid, his boots dragging against the dirt. For the first time since the battle began, Phainon gritted his teeth. He was enjoying this—too much. But you were not about to let him have his way. Just as you stepped forward to finish the fight

“Phainon!” A voice cut through the chaos.

A blur of movement, then a figure stepped between you. One of his companions, someone from his so-called team. They held up their hands, panting. “Enough! We don’t have time for this!”

Phainon did not move. His gaze was still locked onto yours. You could see it in his eyes, the pure, unfiltered fury at being interrupted. But the presence of his ally forced him to pause.

You, on the other hand, felt something entirely different. Relief. Victory. Freedom.

You met Phainon’s gaze one last time, satisfied. “It seems your people have more sense than you do.” Then, without another word, you turned and disappeared back into the forest.

This time, he did not follow. “You should have let me handle it.”

His companion shifted uncomfortably. “You were wasting time, Phainon. The dragon is nothing compared to that elf.”

His hand was still clenched at his side, the phantom warmth of your magic still burning against his skin. You had been so close. And yet, you had slipped away.

You were happy. You thought you had won.

How naive.

Phainon exhaled slowly, forcing himself to smile. “It doesn’t matter, that elf will come back.” he said.

His companion frowned. “You don’t know that.”

Phainon’s eyes gleamed. “Oh” he murmured, voice as smooth as silk. “I do.”

For the first time in what felt like ages, the forest was silent. The stars shimmered above, casting their soft glow over the elven village hidden deep within the ancient woods. The air carried the scent of blooming night flowers, and the distant hum of magic pulsed beneath the earth, a reminder that you were home. Far from him.

You let out a slow breath, fingers grazing the carved wooden railing of your balcony. The battle with Phainon had left a lingering fire in your veins, but here, surrounded by the familiar embrace of your homeland, that fire began to settle. You had won.

The moment was shattered by an unnatural stillness. A presence. A disturbance. Your muscles tensed. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it something foreign, something human.

“I expected more of a welcome, little elf.” Your heart lurched. You turned and there he was. Phainon stood at the edge of your balcony, as if he belonged there. His silver-white hair was tousled from travel, his blue eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. He had no right to be here.

Rage surged in your chest. “How dare you—”

“You ran” he interrupted smoothly. “Did you think I would simply accept that?”

“You are trespassing.”

He took a slow step forward, his gaze never leaving yours. “You call it trespassing” he murmured. “I call it persistence.”

Your patience snapped. With a flick of your wrist, the wind howled. The very air turned against him, slamming into his chest with enough force to send him over the edge of the balcony. But he did not fall.

Phainon twisted, landing gracefully on the wooden floor as if he had expected the attack.

You scowled. “Leave.”

“No.” The sheer audacity of his defiance made your magic crackle.

“You are bold for a human.”

“And you are stubborn for an elf.”

You didn’t waste time on more words. Another surge of magic lashed out, this time, roots from the balcony coiled like serpents, aiming to bind him, force him away. Phainon moved faster. In one swift motion, he dodged, closing the distance between you. Before you could react, his hand grasped your wrist. A spark shot through you, not pain, but power clashing against power.

“Let go” you snarled, magic flaring. Phainon held firm. He was not trying to overpower you, he was forcing you to listen.

“You waste your strength fighting me” he said lowly, his voice like embers smoldering in the dark. “When you could use it for something greater.”

Your jaw clenched. “I have no desire to follow you.” His grip tightened just enough to make you feel the weight of his presence, the sheer determination in his stance.

“You think your home will protect you from the world” he continued, his voice deceptively calm. “But your peace is a lie.”

“Stay here, and you will be safe—for now” Phainon murmured. “But what happens when the world comes for you? When your strength is needed, but you are too late to act?”

Your throat tightened. “Join me” he pressed, his voice dipping lower. “Not because I demand it, but because you and I both know, you were meant for more than this.”

Your magic pulsed, but so did his conviction. The moment stretched, your will clashing against his in a battle that was not fought with weapons, but with unspoken truths.

Another presence, a flicker of movement in the trees. Phainon’s hold on you loosened. Someone was coming. You wasted no time. You pulled back, stepping away from him.

“This is not over” Phainon said, his voice a promise. But you only smiled.

“You are right” you murmured.

The moment you disappeared into the shadows, Phainon stood still, his breath slow and controlled, but his patience frayed at the edges. You had run. Again. You were slipping away. And Phainon hated it. His jaw clenched. The moment had been perfect, too perfect. He had forced you to listen, to see things his way. You had felt the weight of his words, the undeniable truth in them. He had seen it in your eyes. Yet, before he could break through, someone had come. A bitter laugh rumbled in his chest. Of course, fate always seemed to conspire against him. He turned sharply, striding back into the depths of the forest.

He would not linger like a lovesick fool. No, he had work to do. If persuasion would not bring you to his side, then perhaps… pressure would.

By the time Phainon reached his camp, his team was already waiting. One of them, the same one who had interrupted, rose to speak, but at the sight of his expression, they hesitated.

“Gather information” he ordered, his voice edged with command. “Every weakness. Every tie they have outside their sanctuary.”

His second-in-command frowned. “You mean the elves?”

Phainon’s fingers curled into a fist. Not the elves. You. The village was sacred, shielded by magic. But you were not a prisoner there. Eventually, you would have to step beyond its borders to explore, to act, to seek. And when you did—he would be waiting.

“Find out everything” he continued. “Where they go. Who they trust. What would make them reconsider their decision.”

Because that was all he needed. One moment of doubt. One opportunity. You had chosen to turn away from him, to cling to your false peace. But peace was fragile. And when it was, you would have no choice but to turn to him.

The elven village glowed softly beneath the moonlight, nestled deep within the ancient forest. It was a place untouched by human hands, serene, untamed. And yet, none of it compared to you. Phainon stood hidden in the trees, his sharp gaze locked onto the balcony where you stood. You were unaware of his presence, your expression calm, the tension from your earlier battle with him having melted into something softer. It was rare to see you like this. You had no idea how much you infuriated him. Your power, your beauty, your sheer stubbornness. Everything about you defied reason, yet he could not let you go.

He had chased you across forests and battlefields. He had fought you, reasoned with you, tested your limits. And still, you resisted.

Would it always be this way? Would you ever truly stand at his side?

The thought alone made something dark coil in his chest. No. He refused to let that be the outcome. But before he could dwell further, the forest moved. A low, guttural growl echoed from the shadows. Phainon barely had time to react before the beasts emerged. Large, otherworldly creatures slithered between the trees, their glowing eyes locking onto him with primal hostility. Guardians. Born of ancient magic, raised by the elves. And they had sensed an intruder.

Phainon clicked his tongue. The first lunged. He sidestepped with ease, unsheathing his blade in one fluid motion. The second came faster, claws swiping at his chest, forcing him to parry. They were testing him. But Phainon was not a man who bowed to monsters. His eyes narrowed, and his stance shifted. If they wanted to challenge him, he would answer. Magic crackled at his fingertips, and just as he moved to strike— “Stop.” Your voice rang through the clearing.

The moment the creatures heard you, they halted. The tension in the air was thick as you stepped forward, your gaze sharp. The beasts reluctantly pulled back, still watching Phainon with suspicion. “He is not a threat” you said firmly.

Phainon felt the weight of your words, the way the creatures hesitated, then obeyed. Because of you. Only because of you.

You met his gaze, expression unreadable. For a brief moment, Phainon wondered- was this it? Had you changed your mind? Had you finally begun to see reason?

But then you spoke. “Leave.”

His fingers curled. You were still fighting him. Even after defending him, you were still denying him. Phainon let out a slow breath, forcing down his frustration.

Fine. If you would not come willingly, then he would simply make sure you had no choice.

Phainon did not stop walking until he was far from the village. The distant calls of the creatures still echoed behind him, but his mind was elsewhere. Even after seeing you in your element, even after witnessing your world, your people, your peace, his resolve did not waver. If anything, it hardened. You would never break on your own. So he would make sure you had no choice. You had been given the chance to surrender—to accept him. And you had refused.

Then let the game truly begin.

It started with small things. A misplaced book. A candle that flickered despite the absence of wind. A familiar path that suddenly felt… unfamiliar. You noticed them at first only in passing, minor inconveniences, nothing worth dwelling on. The village was alive with magic, after all. Spirits stirred. Shadows danced. The forest had a will of its own, shifting ever so slightly like a living entity.

But then the changes became too frequent. Too deliberate. One evening, as you entered your home, you found your chair moved. Not by much, just a few inches. But enough that your eyes lingered on it. Had you moved it earlier and simply forgotten? You shook the thought away.

Then, a few nights later, you awoke to the sensation of being watched. The room was silent, moonlight filtering through the window. Your heartbeat remained steady, yet your instincts whispered: something was off. Your gaze flickered toward the doorway. The wooden frame stood empty, yet the air beyond it felt… occupied. A trick of the mind, you told yourself. And yet, the feeling remained.

The entire village felt different. The laughter of the elves had softened, their usual warmth replaced with hushed voices. The creatures raised among your people, the guardians that had attacked Phainon grew restless. They paced near the borders, sniffing the air, their hackles rising at unseen threats. You reached out to one of them, fingers brushing against thick fur. The beast trembled under your touch. “What is it?” you murmured. It did not answer, but its ears flattened as it stared beyond the trees—toward the deeper woods. Toward the world outside. A world where he was.

Phainon. No. He was gone. He had left. You had seen him disappear into the shadows yourself. He wouldn’t return so soon. Would he?

Your belongings began to vanish. At first, it was small things—a hairpin, a letter, a single page missing from an old book. Then, something more personal. A bracelet. One you had worn since childhood, crafted from the enchanted silver of your people. It was bound to you through magic, it should not have been able to leave your side. Yet, when you reached for it one morning, it was gone.

Panic clawed at your chest. You searched every inch of your home, retracing your steps, trying to rationalize the impossibility. But deep down, you knew. This was no accident. Someone had taken it.

The barrier weakens.

That night, the village wards flickered. The protective magic surrounding your home, woven into the very trees themselves, had remained unbroken for centuries. Unshaken. Impenetrable. Until now.

You stood at the edge of the forest, staring at the faint shimmer of the barrier. It pulsed weakly, its usual glow dim. Someone was testing its limits. And you already knew who. You turned, heart pounding.

For the first time since his departure, you felt him. Not through sight, not through sound, but through an instinct deeper than words. Phainon was close. Not within the village. Not yet. But near enough that his presence curled around the edges of your world.

Your peace was shattering. The forest was eerily silent as you moved through the shadows, your every step measured. The disturbances—the missing bracelet, the flickering wards, the feeling of being watched had been warnings. And you had ignored them for too long.

You would find Phainon. And you would end this game.

He was close. You knew it. And then, you saw him.

Leaning against a tree, bathed in silver moonlight, Phainon stood waiting. As if he had known you would come. His silver-white hair gleamed under the night sky.

He looked at you the way a predator regarded prey. “Finally” he murmured. “I was wondering when you’d stop pretending you could ignore me.”

Your hands curled into fists. “You never left.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You’ve been watching me. Manipulating my home, my people—”

“I gave you time” he interrupted smoothly. “Time to see reason. Time to accept that what I offer is better than this illusion of peace you cling to.”

“You think you know what’s best for me?”

Phainon stepped closer, his expression darkening. “Yes.”

You struck first. A burst of magic surged from your palm, searing toward him like a silver blade. Phainon barely dodged, twisting just in time. His own magic flared—sharp, raw power slamming against yours in a storm of light and force. The ground beneath you shook. Every blow you traded was a challenge. Every movement a declaration. He was fast, calculating. But you were his equal. And yet

“You hesitate.” His voice cut through the clash of magic. “You could have killed me just now.”

You had aimed for his shoulder, not his throat. Not the killing blow. He laughed. “You’re already doubting yourself.”

Your grip tightened around the hilt of your magic-forged blade. “Shut up.”

“You’ve felt it, haven’t you?” He sidestepped another strike, blue eyes gleaming. “That slow, creeping realization. That no matter how much you fight me, I always find my way back to you.”

Phainon saw the flicker of hesitation—and he seized it. “You are powerful” he murmured, dodging another blast of energy, his voice weaving through the chaos like silk. “Beautiful. Unlike anyone I’ve ever met.” He stepped closer. “You could have anything.” Closer. “Yet you stand here, wasting your strength protecting a world that will never understand you the way I do.”

The battle stopped. Your breath hitched, the warmth of his skin searing against yours. His voice dropped lower, softer—intoxicating. “You belong with me.”

“Enough!” A third presence. You barely had time to register it before something struck between you and Phainon.

A force strong enough to send both of you stumbling apart.

One of his allies.

Phainon’s head snapped to the side, annoyance flickering across his face. Whoever had interrupted had done so at the worst possible moment—for him.

For you? It was salvation.

Phainon’s grip on your wrist loosened just enough and you ran.

As you disappeared into the trees, you felt the weight of his gaze lingering. Phainon would not let this be the end. Not until he had you.

Branches clawed at your skin as you sprinted through the forest, breath ragged, magic flickering at your fingertips. The village was close—so close. But he was faster. A hand snatched your wrist mid-step, yanking you back. Your balance shattered as you crashed into his chest—solid, unyielding. Phainon’s arms wrapped around you in an iron grip, his strength overwhelming. You struggled, thrashing, magic surging, but it was too late.

His voice rumbled against your ear, low and triumphant. “You’re not going back.”

A sickening pulse of magic erupted from him, swallowing you whole. The world shifted. The forest dissolved into darkness. The village, your home—vanished. And when your vision cleared, you were no longer in the woods. You stood in a vast chamber, encased in stone and silver. The air was thick with his power.

Phainon still held you, unshaken. “You fought well” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch disturbingly gentle. “But this was always how it was going to end.”

“You—” Your voice was raw. “Let me go.”

He smiled. “No.” Phainon exhaled, pressing his forehead against yours, savoring the moment. “This time, you’re staying with me.”

#yandere x reader #yandere #hsr x reader #hsr phainon #phainon #phainon honkai star rail #phainon hsr #phainon x reader #yandere honkai star rail #honkai star rail #yandere hsr #hsr x y/n #hsr x you

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leupagus · 17 hours ago

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Please enjoy this section of "A Song of Darkness and Dawn" that's at least three fics into the future (somewhere around season 8?) that I've had in my drafts for literally a year

Happy anniversary?

"Father never talked about the Rebellion," said Lady Stark after a long moment. "At least not with me. Our septa taught us about it, a bit. How King Robert made his claim to the Iron Throne in part through his grandmother, Rhaelle Targaryen. She was the younger sister to King Jaehaerys and Queen Shaera."

"You believe Daenerys's claim to be stronger than mine?" He took a breath, wondering at himself even as he said, "It may well be."

Lady Stark gaped at him. "'It may well be'?" she echoed, incredulous. "Whatever happened to 'the Iron Throne is mine by right' and 'all those who deny my claim are my enemy' and 'I alone can unite the realm'?"

"I don't sound like that," he snapped, ignoring her badly-suppressed snort. "Robert won by right of conquest more than birth, and three dragons gives Daenerys Stormborn a better claim than any bloodline. But the more I think on it..." He sighed. "I suspect that there is no such thing as king — or queen — by right. It's simply a pretty phrase for those in power to pursue what they want, at the expense of their duty to their people." He glanced at her. "What?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, though her expression was odd. "I just never expected to hear such things from you."

"It's your fault, if it's anyone's."

"Really." This expression was more familiar: a glower. "I'm sure this will be interesting."

"You took Winterfell back, despite having no real claim other than the..." He cast about for the right word, "sentiment, I suppose, of the Northern lords."

It wasn't the right word, he soon discovered. "I'm a Stark," she replied hotly. "My family's held the North for thousands of years!"

"But you're not the heir to Winterfell," he pointed out. ". Daughters can inherit — but they usualy don't, not if there's a son living. And your father had three."

"None of whom want to be Warden of the North!" She looked ready to kick him. "And you yourself granted Winterfell to me—"

"And I meant it," he said, stepping back a judicious pace. "You've rebuilt the Keep and brought order back to the North, made it safe for your people. Now you're preparing them for the Great War, and I'd ask for no one better. You're doing your duty. But it was a duty you sought, and a duty that rightly belongs to someone else."

"It's a duty I'm suited to," she countered. "Just as you were suited better to be Lord of Dragonstone and Master of Ships than to be Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."

Stannis jabbed a finger at her. "That was completely different!"

"Only because King Robert gave Storm's End to Renly outright," she said, raising a finger in turn. "You're the one who considered it a slight, even though Dragonstone was the holdfast given to the heir to the Iron Throne, which you were, until Joffrey was born. Not only that, you were the only man Robert could have trusted to rebuild his fleet. And," she added, pushing his hand down when he tried to interject, "You would have hated being Lord of the Stormlands."

She said it with such triumphant confidence that he was left gaping at her for a moment, before hurredly pulling his hand away from hers. "I admire your confidence, my lady," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "But bear in mind that I am Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."

"Yes, and if you were there, you'd hate it," she said blithely. "You'd have to deal with people, throughout the day and every day — and not just people who do as you tell them. You'd have to listen to the complaints of smallfolk about their taxed grains, hear out disputes between two holdings that have been fighting over the same half-acre for three generations; you'd have to listen all the wheedling lords and the irascable septons and blustering tradesmen. You'd have to offer comfort to the sickly who come to you for the healing touch of their lord, attend feast days and wave and smile at the crowds, accept the flower crowns the children weave for you at the tourneys. You can't just shout. You have to care, and be shown to care. You—" Suddenly she stopped and laughed. "I wish I had a mirror right now, to show you your face."

"Flower crowns?" he asked, wincing. Shireen would look well in them, at least.

"Good thing I didn't bend the knee, Your Grace," she said, "if the mere thought of daisies wrapped around your head makes you rethink the entire enterprise. What did you think being king meant?"

#ngl a lot of this fic is me going 'what's going to give stannis a headache the most?'#and then doing that #much like jaime and dany and a lot of other doomed characters #I do not want them to die I just want them to suffer for a little bit #while confronting hard truths about themselves or whatever #optional but strongly preferred is one of the starks reading them for filth at some point #anyway I maintain that stannis and sansa united as a force would've been 100000 more interesting than the last half of the show #because they're so BITCHY but for completely opposite reasons #and honestly stannis needs a bitch in his life #all the women around him are either too nice too sexy or too religious #(or some disturbing combination thereof)#he needed someone to slap him around a little bit #and lbr sansa needed someone to slap around a little bit #got: bitches get stuff done

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mullermilkshake · 7 hours ago

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PART THREE - Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader x Satoru Gojo

One hot day. Tags- Kidnapping,Mutilation,Sexual tension,Yandere!Gojo Yandere!Reader,Creampie,Death by machinery,Murder

“Ken, baby.” He ignored your sweaty drawl in his ear, his teeth grazing down your sensitive shoulder to make you shudder underneath him.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you, Darling.”

He could, very well in fact, you were certain you’d said it clear enough after the third time he made you come. Kento had a knack for overstimulation. so controlled and accurate to the settings on your body it was as though he’d written the manual.

“No more… I don’t think I can go again.”

“Look at you.” He brushed a strand of damp hair from your face, moving his hips in a way the anticipation hurt in slow burning movements. “I believe you can go once more. Don’t you?”

You shook your head and breathed out rapidly as your body got weaker and more achy. Weather permitting, you still had to drive somewhere after this, what if your legs gave out before you got there? Or if you didn’t have strength to use the brakes, you’d go careering off a ledge into a ditch or something.

Kento knew you had to leave after too, that’s why he was dragging it on.

He’s so considerate to my needs and so needy… I love that.

Still, you really did need to leave sooner or later, otherwise the heat in the air would ruin the package you had in the trunk. It was probably melting and sweating already, it had to be posted today otherwise you’d get a late fee.

“Baby… I really have to go.” You never wanted to, ever.

“I suppose I’ve kept you long enough, haven’t I?” Kento pressed his lips to your nose and pecked your cheeks and forehead. “Hold on then.”

He pulled you close and wrapped his muscular arms around you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He was clearly bracing for the best fuck of your life, his hips bucked and thrusted without notice or mercy. Kento fucked you within an inch of your life and wasn’t sorry about it.

I love it when he uses me like this.

You were his to command and use in any way he deemed appropriate, it seemed like he was beginning to clock onto it with how he held you down like he didn’t care. His hard cock pulsated and shuddered at the wet slickness hung in the silent room par the wet breaths and bare skin against the other. The way his ragged breaths in your neck sent you crazy, locking your legs around his waist more tightly with a threat of your fingernails digging in.

“Come inside me- I want you to come inside me… Please.”

You loved it when he came inside you and left you in a mess. Like a mark to show he owned you in the most primal way, like the way animals marked their territory. You would let it happen, give yourself to him entirely and all you wanted in return were those three little words.

That’s all. You were still waiting on them, but eventually you knew they would come.

“Inside you?” He rasped, pulling back to watch you with lidded eyes though never letting up his pace. “How much do you want it? Tell me.”

“Lots- more than lots-” It was all you could bring to the table, your mind beginning to melt for real.

“Use your words darling.”

With a bit of umph from his hips, you got there. “So much, I want it so much, Ken, Baby please!”

Kento kissed you again, but left his lips lingering against yours and held you tight. As if on cue, he emptied himself inside you, coming hard and jerking between your legs with the same animalistic grunt that made you gush.

“Fuck…” Now, you didn't want to move at all, just stay as you were for a little while.

But the package. Fuck. Fucking waste of space and time, useless piece of shit!

Kento stayed as he was, the noticeable sweat dripping from his hair all over your chest. It was just that hot today and the air conditioner chugged temporarily.

“It’s so hot in here.”

He huffed at you with a smile and pulled you up, still inside and still very much erect. “And you said it was a good way to pass the time… come take a shower with me? Before you go.”

And you did, a quick one at that before regrettably leaving into your hotbox car before the air conditioning kicked into a little. You waved Kento off noting his bare chest out on show just for you, he waved and waited for you to drive on the road before closing the door.

“Holy shit it’s really hot in here.” The breeze from the car window did better than the AC but it was the package in the trunk you were nervous about.

A small and mostly insignificant package you only agreed to deliver because you were petty enough to drive all that way. But soon enough you were regretting wasting gas driving all the way out in the middle of nowhere to a recycling plant.

You drove slowly along the winding road and hit a few pot holes, sending the package flying around in the back with an almighty thunk. Shit, it better not be broken. If it was, you’d kick yourself for letting it sit as long as it had.

Pulling up, no one greeted you or even made themselves known. Well, they wouldn’t have, this site worked more in the twilight hours due to the heat. Dropping the package off meant that someone else would find it later.

Good enough for you.

The heat hit you right in the face like a firm barrier as you hopped out and made your way to the trunk to secure the package for delivery. The banging stopped and you could only imagine what state she was in.

“Sorry, I forgot how hot it was… Oi.” You bent down and slapped the woman's cheek about a little.

She was an opportunist who decided it was good etiquette to touch Kento’s hand two seconds longer than socially exceptable and giving him ‘fuck me’ eyes right in front of you.

Stupid dumb bitch.

“Don’t say you’ve died on me before I can do what I wanted to do.” You smacked her again and she wriggled a little. “I’ve always wanted to do this to someone like you, so wake the fuck up!”

She opened her eyes and panicked, trying to move away from you like she could get far. The woman was gagged and bound, she couldn’t have run away at all if she wanted to. No, the only option she had was to wriggle around like a dirty slug on the floor, ready to be squished.

You yanked her out of the car and let her fall with a thud, crying behind the cloth in her mouth which soiled the dry powdery dirt. “Now, I’m going to take you up there, and you can mull over on what you did, alright?”

“Mhhhhhhhmmppphh!”

“Cry me a river, bitch. You know exactly what you did.”

The sweat began dripping from your brow, the shower did nothing to keep you fresh but only prolonged the sweat of hard work. The anger spurred you on to drag the woman towards the facility by her feet. She thrashed and wiggled to the best of her ability, screaming behind the gag and you just ignored her. She was mocking you. You saw the side eye she gave you at the counter after giving Kento his change, she thought she was better than you. Better for Kento apparently.

But you were obviously the better match, otherwise he wouldn’t be with you, right?

You dragged the woman up some cast iron stairs, making sure to hit her head on each ledge on the way up. Each scream was as satisfying as the last, a musical symphony just for you to enjoy. She frantically wriggled so much, she actually popped the gag out from her mouth.

Her voice split through your brain like an icepick embedded in your skull. “Please- please don’t do this! I’ve done nothing wrong- please!”

“So you figured it out then?” The lever clicked and turned the machinery on which should have required ear defenders, you crouched down and watched the amusing fear in her eyes. “No one touches my man and gets to keep both their hands. But you did it on purpose to spite me. So I can’t let that slide.”

The metal shredder blinked to life for a moment and powered down again. You turned and almost toppled over. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“What?” Gojo shrugged, leaning on the metal pole barrier over the metal shredder. “Your ears aren’t protected, you’ll damage them.”

“Help me- please help me, she’s crazy!” The woman pleaded to him despite his eyes never acknowledging her.

Standing up was meant to intimidate him, however it didn’t. “You were following me- when the hell did you get here?”

“I’ve been here long enough. I wanted to see what you were going to do- I mean, throwing her in a metal shredder? I’m already getting a hard on. But then you decided on doing this in unsafe working conditions. That I can’t abide.”

“Please, help!”

“You are ridiculous. I told you to leave me alone and now you’re going to ruin this for me again?” You poked his chest as a statement, but he took it in his grasp and pulled you close. “Don’t touch me. I dragged her sorry ass all the way up here and now you want to help me? Give me space for christ sake.”

“Oh my god, someone listen to me!”

He didn’t move after you attempted to yank yourself out of his grip, like embedded rock. “I’ll help you. I said I’d do your dirty work for you.”

You cringed at his hand sliding down from your back to your waist, holding you firmly as though you were lovers. “I said get away from me! I’ll do this on my own.”

“Help me!”

In unison, you and Gojo turned and glared at her. “Shut up!”

This temporarily muted her in shock, shuffling up against the metal grating like it would do anything to protect her. You finally slipped from Gojo’s grasp, but it was clear you did because he let you. You kicked the level to switch the machine on and the woman started screaming again.

“This is mine. Don’t get involved.”

The woman tried backing away and wriggled as much as she could to prevent you throwing her off the edge. “Get off of me, please don’t do this!”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch. You’re going in one way or another so just accept that you’re a man stealing whore who can’t get her own.”

“You want some help?-”

“Fuck off, Gojo- what are you doing?!” He had pushed past you and lugged the woman over his shoulder and just threw her in like she was nothing but a discarded tissue.

Despite your anger of being side blinded again, she was trash.

“I can’t believe you-” Gojo grabbed your waist and cupped the back of your neck until your lips ghosted his in the wide spray of blood and popping crunches below, he could have kissed you, but he didn’t.

He kicked out his leg and switched the machine off. When it died down, you could have sworn he was inhaling you, his hot breath dusting your bottom lip and making it tickle. “I can smell him on you. Are you doin’ this on purpose?” He rested his face in the crook of your neck like Kento had done. “I can’t take this…”

“Gojo…” what could you even say to that? Actually, you knew exactly what. “You ruined it again! I can’t believe you, you just can’t leave well enough alone!”

He watched you with adoration, fiddling with your earlobe absentmindedly. “What can I say? When it comes to you I get a compulsion. You get it too. So you know what I’m feeling right now.”

“You don’t know how I feel, all you think about is yourself. I have a boyfriend who I love and will do anything for and you’re getting in the way of it!”

Gojo turned you a little and shifted his weight to one side. “Well if that’s the case, maybe I’ll head back to Nanami’s place right now and get rid of him. Seems the right thing to me, I don’t know what more he’s good for to be honest with you.”

This cocky bastard.

“Take a fucking step back- I told you before that if you touch a hair on his head, I’ll hurt you in the worst way possible.”

“Sounds romantic.” Was he going to kiss you?

You wouldn't let him if he tried. “You’re my worst nightmare.”

“And you’re my best wet dream ever…” No he wasn’t going to, because he pulled away and flashed a cheeky grin. “Hey, I have an idea on how Nanami can be useful, I might tolerate it. How do you think Nanami feels about threesomes?”

Tag list - @nanamineedstherapy

Hi! 😊

Your writing is so immersive that it feels cinematic—like watching a movie unfold in real time. I love how you always manage to surprise me with plot twists that I never see coming! It’s such a refreshing change from knowing exactly where the story is headed.

I’d absolutely love if you could give Yandere!Reader another go with Nanamin. I think it would be fascinating since Nanami’s level-headedness might keep him from suspecting her. And if you're open to poly ships, it’d be thrilling to add Gojo into the mix with a twist—Yandere!Reader x Nanami x Gojo, but with Gojo secretly yandere all along. Maybe he’s been stalking both of them, planning for the perfect moment to reveal his obsession and orchestrating their “first meeting” to suit his agenda. I’ll leave the rest to your creativity, as I’m sure you’ll bring unexpected layers and depth!

Thank you for considering this! I’m so grateful for all the hard work you put into your stories. 😊🌸

Thanks so much for the kind words! It really means a lot. I love trying to write it all cinematic and doing things that go against the grain because my brain is twisted lol.

I can definitely do that, I hope you enjoy it!

Kento Nanami x Reader x Satoru Gojo

TAGS- Yandere!Reader,Yandere!Gojo,Stalking,Thoughts of killing people,Yandere!thoughts and motives,Masking,Graphic depictions of violence and mentions of damage to eyes.

One americano, two shots of espresso and two pumps of vanilla. Every day at seven thirty five. But not on Sundays sometimes because meetings run over.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going- oh god look at your suit, it must be expensive right?”

It was about time you made proper contact with Kento Nanami. You watched on in awe at his stance, brushing the coffee away from his suit in such a way it made the mundane action sexy. Lustrous. Like he was trying to make the way he allowed a strand of hair to fall past his forehead almost purposefully. With an intent to send you crazy.

Good thing you weren’t like those fangirls you often saw on television, crawling about the stage because a man gyrated over his mic. No, you were merely a coffee barista. A damn good one at that. Well, except for spilling coffee all over Kento’s suit.

But how else were you going to get his attention?

You were barely hanging on as it was watching the others make his drink to order. That’s why you made this one for him.

Jesus fucking hell Utahime It’s two pumps of vanilla. I swear I could kill that bitch right now. Shove head under the hot water valve and watch her eyes burn out the sockets.

It was a little drastic, even for you, but if anyone just saw the way Utahime was talking to Kento they would have assumed the two were dating or something. Kento Nanami was single. Definitely single.

The last girl he wanted to date just never made it to that coffee date on time.

None of his other dates did either.

“It’s fine, really.” The first sentence he spoke to you wasn't ‘thank you’ or his coffee order.

A formulated sentence.

Well, that was five months ago. Kento Nanami made the right choice that day to accept your invitation for a drink. Just like you planned. All seemed well and good for a time before you were noticing something strange when out in public.

White hair.

It was all you seemed to ever see. Out in the store or late night trip to the movies, hooked up to Kento’s arm during a scary or suspenseful part. It just seemed to be there, though you never knew who it belonged to. Never a face to linger for a second to make the connection. Just nothing. It tickled the back of your neck, putting you on the defense as though Kento was in danger. What sort of fucked up person would stalk someone? The idea of it was deranged, sick at the thought that someone was watching him, watching you with him.

White hair. You just couldn’t place it.

“Ken, love! What do you think of this dress?!” You called from upstairs, slipping on your shoes and smoothing down the hem of the fabric.

“I’m sure it’s perfect-” He paused, looking you up and down as though studying every inch of your body before he forgot what it looked like.

“Do I look pretty?”

He nodded slowly, stepping close to sit his hand on your waist. “You look beautiful.”

Hearing Kento say such kind and wonderful things made your night, heck, your entire week. Who gave a crap what anyone else thought? Just Kento was more than what you needed to prove that he liked you very much. You loved him of course, but that was love at first sight. Counting down the agonising days until he said it back to you, when you told him all the time in your head or whilst he slept. It took restraint not to slip up and make him doubt things.

So difficult not to say it for the man you loved.

“Thank you.” You giggled at his touch, planting a kiss on your temple with a husky growl in his throat.

“Maybe we should leave dinner tonight? I can’t possibly see how I’ll cope without taking you back to mine straight away. Too beautiful.”

“Restrain yourself, Ken. Someone might think you’re in love with me or something!” Your ecstatic grin sat just in front of your face as though to mask your brain away.

Say it… just say it please. Tell me you love me. I need to hear it.

His attentive smile made your stomach flip when he pulled you close and spun you around to face the mirror. “If they saw your smile, they would understand what a lovely person you are. And see how I can’t resist you when you’re in a dress like this.”

Oh dear. Maybe some other time.

“Well,” You kept that mask on and pulled away from him. “Should we get going then? Don’t want to be late.”

“Of course.”

Kento drove straight to the restaurant, quite an upscale place for no occasion. Maybe there was? Perhaps Kento had something planned that you were unaware of, something spontaneous or quite the opposite. A planned surprise? It was practically the night of your five month month anniversary after all, two hundred wonderful days spent seeing each other and having astronomical sex.

You didn’t get your hopes up and held your breath when he climbed out of the car and opened the door for you. So special. So dedicated to your comfort with the slightest touch from his fingers on the small of your back. Adrenaline made everything ten times more acute, aware of everything and anything you walked by and as you seated yourself at the table facing Kento, your heart beat so fast. Five months was a long time when you had waited longer to be with him.

You were basically in a relationship with him for well over a year by now it seemed, surely that was long enough to hear those three words?

“Can I get you any drinks?” The waitress grinned at Kento and then at you.

Why him first? He was the most handsome man you had ever seen, but what right did this bitch have setting eyes on him? You ignored the irritation and blinked it away for now, letting Kento speak for you and took a moment to observe the room.

White hair.

A flash of it and you would have missed it had you turned away to scowl at the waitress again. White hair like you were imagining it.

“Darling?”

“Hm?”

“Are you alright?” Kento slid his hand forward and offered it to you. “You seem distant.”

“I’m fine.” You were not, but took his hand anyway. “It’s a little chilly in here, don’t you think?”

“I’ll ask them to turn the heat up, will that be alright?”

He’s so considerate. “That would be great, thank you.”

You played it off and ignored the itch on the back of your neck, being watched did not agree with you. Kento sat still and his head tilted to the side a little, studying you again whilst his free hand rummaged into his suit pocket.

“I have something for you.” He pulled out a little box. “I know we haven’t been dating that long, but I wanted to get you something I hope you’ll like. If it’s too early, please let me know.”

A box. A small little box. It was light in your hand, velvet to the touch and firm enough that it must have come from those places that sold rings for stupid money. One little box, something so small which held your heart right in Kento’s pocket.

Is he proposing? Please tell me he’s proposing. It means he loves me, right?

“Ken… What-” A pair of earrings.

“I know you lost one from the pair you always said you wore, so I wanted to get you a new pair. I hope it’s appropriate.”

You forbid yourself to be disappointed, because it wasn’t about the hope that a ring sat nestled perfectly in this box. You put up your mask and smiled sweetly enough to satisfy him. “It is. Thank you so much, I love them!”

He’ll propose some day.

“Here are your drinks.”

The waitress took Kento’s drink off first and placed it right in front of him. Then she placed yours down off to the side. She was doing it on purpose, you were sure of it. The steak knife on the table looked pretty good to shove straight in her neck-

She cleared her throat and placed the tray under her arm. “I’ll be back in a moment to see what you'd like to order.”

“Thank you.” Kento paid no mind to it and took a sip of his wine. “This is a nice vintage, I think we should go to one of those wine tasting evenings. It’s a good place to get to know each other more.”

You did not need to know Kento more. You knew practically everything about him in the four months he stepped into your life physically.

He liked to drink, hence the wine tasting suggestion. Kento also enjoyed cooking, especially as he lived alone in his apartment, but he also enjoyed dishing up delicacies in your own kitchen. His birthday was July third and he had a particular interest in the arts, like music and theatre. A man of many tastes.

“Hello there, can I get you something to eat?” A voice of a man you did not recognise came into ear shot.

“I think we might need a minute. Our waitress is taking our order.”

White hair.

You looked up and saw white hair, only this time it did not disappear. The white hair had a face, a blue eyed porcelain complexion with a smooth grin. The man stood taller than Kento dressed in a suit and staff ID.

“I’m sorry, she suddenly became unwell and had to go home. I’ll be taking your order tonight.” He smiled again and made eye contact with you. “My name is Satoru Gojo and I will do everything I can to make sure your night is perfect.”

Gojo. His gaze over you was the exact same distinct feeling of being preyed on. His cutting glare just behind the loose strands of hair over his forehead that looked softer than a cloud. You didn’t know what to make of this, but at least that waitress was gone. You really thought you were going to have to do something about her.

“Alright then. I’ll be back momentarily.”

“Ken, I’m just going to use the restroom, if he comes back before then, can you order me…” You took a brief glance at the menu and chose anything you first landed your eyes on. Gojo wandered off towards the opposite end of the restaurant, somewhere not where the kitchen was. “The steak? I’ll have it however it’s recommended.”

“Alright.”

You took off and made your way over towards the restroom, noting that he had disappeared. Crap. You wanted answers to why it seemed like that man was following you, stalking Kento for no apparent reason.

Would you need to do something about this guy? He was taller than you realised, so he must have been stronger too. You were not super strong by a long stretch, but when pushed enough to the limit, it drove you to do things you thought your body was not capable of.

Just look at the last waitress that brought the wrong drink and almost spilt it all over him just last week. So much blood and she was still wailing after you shoved your stiletto heel in her face.

People never learn.

By the time you reached the restroom, the stalls were all empty besides one. The long wall length mirror outlined them all like little match boxes opened after use, showing the amber light inside for an ambient glow.

“How did I know that I’d find you in here, hm?” Gojo’s voice echoed throughout the restroom.

It startled you enough to move towards the door and lock it, backing away from the closed door and sitting your back flush with the slate grey tiles adjacent to it.

The toilet stall opened and he came out much less cheerful than he was outside, hands tight in his trouser pockets. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Who are you?”

“It’s funny, no one else ever seems to notice me when I don't want them to. But your instincts are hot on it every time, aren’t they?”

“Tell me who you are.”

This wasn’t a show of weakness or a moment that revealed your vulnerabilities. When you glared back in his eyes, it was Kento you thought of. If this man was here to hurt him, well, you’d fucking kill him. Out in the back alley, no witnesses and back in time for your steak and boyfriend you’d do anything for. To kill for three times over already. Yes, you’d do it if the opportunity called for it.

“Y’know, I was so ready to come and kick the shit out of that guy when I saw that little box he gave you, but I see right through that little charade you got goin’ on. I've been watching' you a while now.” By now, he’d taken precisely four steps towards you, taking the opportunity to lean against the row of inbuilt sinks. “You’re exactly like me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you need to stop stalking me and my boyfriend. I’ll call the police.”

Gojo’s laugh made your stomach lurch. This guy was a whole new level of crazy you had never seen before. “That’s cute. You’re cute. But no, I’m not stalking him, just you.”

“Then stop doing that.”

“Why, aren’t you scared that I might do what I just said I was goin’ to do? He looks strong but when he has his hands all over you, it sorta drives me crazy.”

Gojo would not make it past the restroom door if he intended on hurting Kento. Yet, why did you contemplate that you’d rather take on the waitress instead of him right now?

Shaking the doubts away, you imagined the scenarios that may occur should you get hold of another steak knife or any other sharp object really. One of the heavy statues in the foyer could prove adequate to crush his head or even one of those little blow torches for creme brûlée right to his face.

For now, your mask dropped, and for a time you could breathe a little. Pretending to be happy all the time was difficult work and holding back on punching anyone who gave eyes at Kento took practice and great restraint. “If you go near him at all, I’ll kill you. I won’t just kill you though, it’ll be worse than torture.”

Gojo stepped closer to you and looked down as though you were a child to be patronised. “That’s my girl. Now, why don’t you introduce me to your little boyfriend so we can make this more official, huh?”

He’d backed you into a corner, right up against the wall. “I meant what I said. Don’t come near us.”

“And I know you have the same urges as me, you think no one sees, but I do. I see you. You won’t have to pretend around me. I’ll even do all your dirty work, that’s what I enjoy most.” He placed his palm on the wall beside your head, leaning in so his mouth was right next to your ear.

“Lets get this fucked up little love triangle kickin’ hm?

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koyagifs · 2 days ago

Text

𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓮: 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮𝔀𝓸𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓼

pairing: poly!ot8 x reader au: werewolf | camp counselors | the quarry genre: angst | horror | fluff (?) word count: 4k synopsis: so naïve, so loyal and for what? warning(s): Minors do not interact! blood, mention of attack

Mingi's jaw tightened as he stared at the clock, the second hand ticking away as if mocking their helplessness. He couldn’t stop his mind from racing, every thought consumed by the chaos Hongjoong, Yeosang, and San had unleashed. They were out there somewhere, prowling in the shadows, leaving a trail of destruction and heartbreak.

Mingi’s fists clenched at his sides as his gaze shifted back to you. The sight of the bandage on your shoulder made his blood boil. Hongjoong had bitten you—you. The one person they all vowed to protect, the one person who didn’t deserve to be dragged further into this nightmare.

He turned away, pacing the room as his frustration bubbled over. “Damn it,” he hissed under his breath, his hands running through his disheveled hair. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen.”

Seonghwa glanced at Mingi, his expression tight with shared frustration. “We can’t change what’s already done,” he said quietly, though his own voice trembled with anger. “What we need to do now is figure out how to fix it. How to end this.”

“And what’s the plan for that, huh?” Wooyoung snapped, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a rare sharpness. “Because right now, it feels like we’re sitting ducks. They’re out there, and we’re just waiting for them to come for us.”

“We’re not waiting,” Mingi growled, spinning on his heel to face Wooyoung. “We’re regrouping. We’re thinking. You think running out there blind is going to solve anything? They’ll rip us apart, and you know it.”

Wooyoung’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t argue. He knew Mingi was right, even if the waiting made his skin crawl.

Jongho cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “What about Yn?” he asked softly, glancing at you with concern. “We need to think about what’s going to happen to her, too. That bite—” He hesitated, his voice cracking slightly. “It’s not something we can ignore.”

The room fell silent again, all eyes flickering to you. You felt the weight of their gazes, the unspoken fears hanging in the air.

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice firmer than you felt. “We need to focus on stopping them, not worrying about me.”

Mingi’s expression darkened, his frustration and guilt swirling into something heavier. “You shouldn’t have to be fine,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Yunho sighed, " but she is and Mingi she's not a helpless women. She's literally witness not only Yeosang but San transform. Hongjoong had broken not only our trust but hers. "

The room grew heavy with tension as Mingi revealed your healed wound, his sharp eyes darting between Yunho and Seonghwa. "You were saying?" he said, his tone laced with both accusation and disbelief.

Seonghwa's throat bobbed as he struggled for words. "It... it shouldn't have healed that fast," he murmured, his gaze flicking to your shoulder and then back to your face.

Yunho crossed his arms, his jaw tightening as he avoided Mingi's glare. "It doesn't change the fact that she's still herself," he said firmly, though the hint of unease in his voice betrayed his confidence. "It’s just… different."

"Different?" Mingi repeated, his voice rising. "You think this is 'different'? She’s changing, Yunho. You saw what happened to Yeosang, to San. This doesn’t end well, and you know it."

Wooyoung stepped in, his voice unusually serious. "Hey, calm down," he said, placing a hand on Mingi’s arm. "Yn's still here. She's still our Yn."

Mingi shook him off, his frustration boiling over. "For how long, Woo? Until she starts hearing the voices? Until the full moon hits, and she—" He stopped himself, his words catching in his throat.

You finally spoke, your voice cutting through the heated exchange. "I’m right here, Mingi," you said, your tone steady but firm. "I’m not some ticking time bomb. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I’m still me."

Mingi turned to you, his expression softening just a fraction. "And what if you’re not?" he asked quietly, his voice raw with emotion. "What if we lose you too?"

"You won’t," you replied, your voice unwavering. "I won’t let that happen. But right now, we have bigger problems. Hongjoong, Yeosang, and San are still out there, and they’re not going to wait for us to figure this out."

Seonghwa nodded, stepping forward. "She’s right. We can’t afford to fall apart now. We need to come up with a plan."

Mingi stared at you for a long moment before letting out a resigned sigh. "Fine," he said, his voice heavy. "But if anything changes—if you start to feel different—you tell us. Immediately."

"I will," you lied, meeting his gaze head-on.

" the good thing is, we have something Hongjoong wants and that's yn. Yn hasn't been lost to the full moon, we can use her to our advantage," Jongho said, walking up to Mingi.

Mark pushed himself off the wall, his eyes on yours as he pulled all the boys into a circle.

" i'm going to be real with you boys, and you're going to take it like a man. She's a goner - she's been bitten and you have two choices. We either kill your friend or we kill them all."

The weight of Mark’s words dropped like a bomb in the room, silencing everyone. Mingi’s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. Seonghwa looked away, his lips pressed into a thin line, while Yunho and Wooyoung exchanged uneasy glances.

“No,” Seonghwa finally said, his voice low but firm. “That’s not an option.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You think you can save her? Do you even know what happens during the full moon? Because once she turns, she’s not your friend anymore. She’s a threat.”

“Shut up,” Mingi snapped, his voice sharp and cold. “We’re not killing her. End of discussion.”

Mark crossed his arms, leaning back slightly as he studied the group. “You’re letting emotions cloud your judgment. If you think she’s going to come out of this the same person, you’re delusional. You’ve already seen what Hongjoong and the others have turned into.”

“Yn isn’t like them,” Wooyoung said, stepping forward. “She’s stronger than that.”

“Stronger?” Mark laughed bitterly. “You think willpower is enough to stop the curse? You’re living in a fantasy.”

Jongho’s eyes darted between Mark and the others before he finally spoke up. “What if… what if we don’t have to kill her? What if there’s another way?”

Mark scoffed. “Another way? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“There’s always another way,” Yunho said firmly, his gaze hard. “We just have to find it.”

“And while you’re out chasing miracles, she could turn at any moment,” Mark countered. “You’re risking everyone here for one person. Do you even hear yourselves?”

The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of the decision pressing down on everyone. Finally, Mingi took a deep breath, his voice steady but filled with resolve.

“We’re not giving up on her,” he said. “Not now, not ever. If you’re not on board with that, then you can leave.”

Mark pulled his gun out, pointing it straight to Mingi's forehead as he stand still. Everyone backed up, eyes widening as Mark glared at him.

" now you listen here you little shit. Remember who's the one who helped you this fucking summer. I'm the one who knows how to kill them. "

The room went deathly silent as the tension thickened, Mark’s gun trembling slightly in his grip as he stared down Mingi. Mingi didn’t flinch, his expression hard and unyielding as he locked eyes with the hunter.

“Put the gun down, Mark,” Seonghwa said cautiously, his hands raised as he stepped forward. “This isn’t going to solve anything.”

Mark’s glare snapped to Seonghwa, his knuckles whitening on the weapon. “Stay out of this, kid. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

“No, you stay out of this,” Mingi said coldly, his voice calm despite the barrel pressed to his forehead. “You might’ve helped us, but that doesn’t give you the right to decide who lives and dies.”

Mark sneered, his finger twitching on the trigger. “You’re playing with fire, boy. That thing sitting over there?” He nodded toward you, his tone dripping with disdain. “She’s already one of them. You’re just too damn blind to see it.”

“Don’t call her that,” Wooyoung snapped, stepping closer, his fists clenched at his sides. “She’s not a thing, and she’s not one of them.”

“You think your loyalty means anything to her now?” Mark spat, his gaze darting between Wooyoung and Mingi. “When she turns, she’ll rip you all apart, just like the others.”

Jongho moved subtly to stand beside Mingi, his eyes locked on Mark. “And if she doesn’t turn? What if we find a way to stop it?”

Mark barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re all delusional. There is no cure. There’s no saving her.”

“Maybe not,” Yunho said, his voice calm but resolute as he joined the standoff. “But we’re not going to kill her just because you’ve lost your faith.”

Mark’s jaw tightened, the silence in the room suffocating as the standoff reached its boiling point. " i haven't lost my faith, i've seen what it has done first hand. "

" oh yeah? then fucking explain to us motherfucker and not try to kill our fucking girlfriend!" Seonghwa growled out.

Mark whipped his gaze toward Seonghwa, his lips curling into a snarl. “You think this is about me wanting to kill her? You think I enjoy this?” He jabbed a finger toward you, his anger barely contained. “I’ve seen it, up close. I’ve seen people I care about—friends, family—turn into monsters because everyone around them thought they could be saved.”

“Then explain it!” Seonghwa shot back, his voice echoing through the room. “Stop dancing around it and tell us why you’re so goddamn sure she can’t come back from this!”

Mark took a deep breath, his expression hardening as his hands tightened into fists. Mark looked at each of you, his jaw tight as he weighed his options. Finally, he sighed, holstering his gun. “You’ve got one shot at this,” he said grimly. “Don’t waste it.”

You sat on the cold tile floor of the girls' bathroom, your back pressed against the wall, knees pulled tightly to your chest. The faint hum of voices outside was muffled, but you could hear the tension in their tones as they argued and planned. It was all too much—too overwhelming. The reality of it all hit you like a freight train, and the tears came harder, uncontrollable sobs shaking your body.

You weren’t sure how long you had been sitting there when you heard a soft knock on the door. “YN?” It was Wooyoung. His voice was gentle, hesitant. “Can I come in?”

You sniffled, wiping your face with the back of your hand, but you didn’t answer. The door creaked open anyway, and he stepped inside, closing it behind him. He crouched down in front of you, his usual playful expression replaced by one of deep concern.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Talk to me.”

You shook your head, your hands trembling as you tried to form words. “This… this is all my fault,” you finally managed to choke out. “If I hadn’t been bitten, if I hadn’t let Hongjoong—”

“Stop,” Wooyoung cut in, his voice firm but still kind. He reached out, placing a hand over yours. “None of this is your fault. None of it.”

You looked up at him, your vision blurred by tears. “But it feels like it is. If I turn—if I hurt any of you—”

“You won’t,” Wooyoung interrupted again, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce determination. “We’re going to fix this. Mingi, Seonghwa, Yunho—they’ll figure it out. We’ll find a way to end this without losing you. I promise.”

His words were comforting, but they didn’t erase the dread pooling in your chest. “And if we can’t?” you whispered. “What if killing Hongjoong doesn’t work? What if it’s too late for me, for San, for Yeosang?”

Wooyoung’s silence was deafening, and it made your heart sink further. The usually confident, lighthearted man you relied on so much now looked as lost as you felt. His lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze falling to the ground. For a moment, he seemed to be wrestling with the weight of your words, his own fears laid bare.

When he finally spoke, his voice was raw, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his honesty. “I don’t know if we can fix this. I don’t know if killing Hongjoong will be enough, or if we’re already too late.” He paused, his hands gripping his knees tightly as he tried to steady himself. “But I do know one thing, YN—I’m terrified. Terrified of losing you, of losing them… of losing everything.”

His confession made your chest tighten, and for a moment, the roles felt reversed. Wooyoung wasn’t just trying to comfort you; he was baring his soul, his vulnerability etched into every word.

“I’ve always been the one cracking jokes, keeping everyone’s spirits up,” he continued, his voice trembling slightly. “But right now? I don’t have the answers. I don’t know how to make this better, and it’s killing me. I just… I just want to keep you safe, and I feel like I’m failing.”

You reached out instinctively, placing your hand over his. His head snapped up, his wide eyes meeting yours, and you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. His eyes widening as he whimpered in pain from how tight the grip on his hand had gotten. Your eyes now a golden color as you held as smirk on your face.

" because you are failing. Such a pathic excuse of a boyfriend if i say so," you growled out.

Wooyoung’s breath hitched, his heart sinking as he stared at you in disbelief. “YN…” he whispered, his voice trembling. He tried to pull his hand away, but your grip was like iron, unrelenting.

The smirk on your face deepened, your golden eyes glowing faintly in the dim bathroom light. “What’s wrong, Wooyoung?” you purred, tilting your head mockingly. “Did you really think this was going to end with everyone holding hands and skipping off into the sunset? You don’t have what it takes to protect me—or anyone else.”

“Stop it,” Wooyoung begged, his voice cracking. “This isn’t you, YN. I know it’s not you. Fight it. Please.”

You chuckled, a low and unsettling sound that sent shivers down his spine. “Fight it? Oh, sweetheart, I’m not fighting anything. This is me now. Maybe if you were stronger, smarter, more useful, you could’ve stopped this. But you didn’t.” Your smirk faded, replaced by something colder, more predatory. “And now you’re nothing but a liability.”

Wooyoung’s free hand clenched into a fist, his eyes glistening with tears as he struggled to keep his voice steady. “I don’t believe that,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re still in there. I know you are.”

“Such blind loyalty,” you sneered, leaning closer until your face was inches from his. “It’s almost admirable. Almost.”

Wooyoung swallowed hard, his mind racing. He couldn’t give up on you, not now, not ever. But the golden glow in your eyes and the vice-like grip on his hand were undeniable proof of the transformation taking hold.

“YN,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the fear coursing through him. “I’m not going anywhere. No matter what you say, no matter what happens, I’m staying right here. I won’t let you go through this alone.”

" that's where you're mistaken Wooyoungie, i won't be alone," you said, your smile now a sinister one.

Mingi’s entrance was like a thunderclap, his presence immediately shifting the tension in the room. He shoved you off Wooyoung with enough force to send you stumbling back, your sinister smirk faltering for a moment as you steadied yourself.

“Get away from her, Wooyoung!” Mingi barked, his voice sharp and commanding. He planted himself between you and Wooyoung, his stance wide, protective, and ready for a fight.

Wooyoung scrambled to his feet, his face a mixture of confusion and anger. “Mingi, what the hell are you doing? She’s—”

“She’s not herself!” Mingi snapped, cutting him off. His eyes darted to yours, his jaw clenched. “Look at her, Wooyoung. That’s not YN anymore.”

You let out a low, chilling laugh, the golden glow in your eyes flickering dangerously. “Always so dramatic, Mingi,” you said, your voice dripping with mockery. “You think you can save him? Save any of them? You’re too late.”

The growls outside grew louder, and Mingi glanced toward the door, his grip tightening on the weapon he’d brought with him. “Wooyoung, get out of here. Now,” he ordered, his voice low but firm.

“I’m not leaving her!” Wooyoung protested, his fists clenched at his sides.

“You’re not saving her by staying here and dying!” Mingi shot back, his eyes never leaving yours. “Go find the others. I’ll handle this.”

You tilted your head, your smile returning as you took a step closer. “Handle me?” you purred. “Oh, Mingi, you’re welcome to try.”

Mingi grabbed ahold of your wrist as you tried to throw a punch as Wooyoung held the door open for Mingi. Shoving you to the ground, you yelped in pain as Mingi rushed out the door, holding the door shut as you cried to be let out.

You pounded on the door, your golden eyes blazing with fury as your cries turned into guttural growls. “You think this will hold me?” you snarled, the sound reverberating through the building. The door rattled under the force of your strikes, and Mingi gritted his teeth, bracing against it with all his weight.

“Keep it shut!” Wooyoung shouted, frantically dragging furniture to barricade the door.

“I’m trying!” Mingi growled back, his muscles straining as another deafening thud shook the door. “She’s stronger than she looks.”

From the other side of the room, Yunho and Seonghwa worked quickly to secure the windows. “This won’t hold her for long,” Seonghwa muttered, his voice tense. “And what about the others? San and Yeosang—”

“Prioritize the now,” Mingi snapped, cutting him off. His eyes darted to Wooyoung, who was shoving a heavy cabinet into place. “This buys us time.”

“Time for what?” Wooyoung spat, his voice laced with desperation. “She’s not herself anymore, Mingi! What if—”

“Don’t,” Mingi interrupted, his voice sharp and unwavering. “Don’t you dare say it.”

The door creaked ominously under another brutal impact, and your voice cut through the chaos like a blade. “You can’t keep me out forever, boys,” you taunted, your tone sickly sweet. “When I get in, you’re all mine.”

Mingi’s hands trembled as he pushed harder against the door. “Wooyoung, go find Mark. We need backup now.”

Wooyoung hesitated, glancing at the barricaded windows and back to the door. “And leave you here with her banging that down? Not happening.”

“I said go!” Mingi barked, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Wooyoung clenched his jaw but nodded, darting out through a side door. The sound of your relentless pounding on the door continued, each strike more powerful than the last. The room seemed to shrink under the pressure, the tension suffocating.

“Any more brilliant ideas?” Seonghwa asked, his voice trembling slightly as he moved beside Mingi to reinforce the door.

Mingi’s gaze darkened, his mind racing. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice low. “We end this before it’s too late.”

Hidden in the dense shadows, Hongjoong’s eyes gleamed with sinister satisfaction as he observed the chaos unfolding within the barricaded building. Beside him, Yeosang and San crouched low, their hulking wolf forms vibrating with tension, their growls deep and guttural. The moonlight filtering through the trees illuminated their fur, their eyes glowing with predatory intensity.

Hongjoong smirked, folding his arms as he leaned casually against a tree. “Look at her,” he murmured, his tone dripping with pride. “Fighting them, breaking free. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The way she’s shedding her weakness.”

Yeosang’s growl deepened, his head dipping low in agreement. San’s claws dug into the dirt, his ears twitching at the sound of your cries from within. His growls were laced with impatience, his body tense as though ready to pounce.

“She’s almost ready,” Hongjoong continued, his voice soft and reverent, as if he were speaking of something sacred. “The bite is taking hold, and soon she’ll see the truth. No more running, no more fighting us. She’ll accept her place—with us.”

San snapped his jaws, his growl turning into a low whine as he pawed the ground. Hongjoong glanced down at him, his smirk widening. “Patience, San,” he said, reaching out to stroke the thick fur on his head. “She’s ours already. They’re just prolonging the inevitable.”

Inside the building, the sounds of the barricade creaking under your relentless assault echoed through the night. Hongjoong tilted his head, his gaze narrowing. “Let them struggle,” he said, his voice a venomous purr. “Let them exhaust themselves trying to save her. In the end, she’ll come to us. She was made for this.”

Yeosang stepped forward slightly, his massive form blocking a sliver of moonlight. His golden eyes flicked to Hongjoong, and a low growl rumbled from his chest. Hongjoong chuckled softly, his voice low and dark. “Soon, boys. Very soon. Our luna will lead us, and they’ll all bow to her power.”

The sudden silence was deafening. The relentless banging that had filled the air just moments ago was gone, leaving only the sound of heavy breathing and the creaks of the strained barricade. Seonghwa leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes as he exhaled shakily, trying to calm his racing heart.

Mingi slid down to the floor, his back against the barricade, his face buried in his hands. Sweat dripped down his temple as he struggled to steady himself, his knuckles still white from gripping the door. “Finally,” he muttered under his breath, though the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease.

“Do you think she’s…?” Jongho began but quickly stopped himself, unable to finish the question. His voice was hesitant, filled with worry and dread.

Mingi shook his head, not looking up. “No,” he said firmly. “She’s not gone yet. But we don’t have much time. That… that wasn’t her. Not fully.”

Wooyoung sat nearby, his face pale, his hands trembling as he rubbed his arms. “She’s fighting it,” he murmured, almost to himself. “She’s still in there, I know it. We just… we have to find a way to bring her back.”

“Bring her back?” Mingi’s voice was sharp, though it was laced with exhaustion. “You saw her, Wooyoung. That wasn’t YN. That was something else. She was—she is—dangerous. And if we don’t figure this out, we’re all dead.”

“We can’t give up on her,” Yunho said, his voice steady but his expression grim. “She’s one of us. If there’s even a chance—”

“And what if there’s not?” Mingi snapped, finally looking up, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and despair. “What if we wait too long, and she… and she kills someone?”

“Then we make sure it doesn’t come to that,” Seonghwa said, his voice quiet but resolute. He opened his eyes, looking at each of them in turn. “We fight for her. We protect her. No matter what it takes.”

A heavy silence settled over the group, the weight of Seonghwa’s words sinking in. Outside, the night remained eerily quiet, but they all knew better than to trust the silence. The danger wasn’t gone—it was waiting, watching, preparing for its next move.

Mingi let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. “If we’re going to do this, we need a plan. A real one. Not just wishful thinking.”

“And fast,” Jongho added, glancing nervously at the barricade. “Because if that wasn’t her final attempt… the next one will be worse.”

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imma-soft-beeboy · 2 days ago

Text

A/N: By popular demand here is the Gravity Falls men (aka the Mystery Trio) caring for you while sick. Hope y'all enjoy!

📖 Stanford (Ford) 🖊

Clocks the moment you become sick, you don't have to tell him at all he can tell he's an observant scientist

Is immediately going into nurse mode

Some part of him doesn't wanna get sick & screams to avoid you. But the larger part of his brain screams to care for you

He just knows you're not gonna take this seriously (calm down Ford it's just a common cold) so of course he side with the half that insists that he take care of you

He starts you on a medicine schedule asap and makes sure you take it exactly as prescribed/needed

Monitors all your symptoms & body temperature to determine if you get better, worse, or the same

He has a very scientific approach to it but that doesn't mean he won't also introject some of his own childhood must-haves

"My mom always made me soup/broth" type stuff

And your bed rotting layout is royalty-worthy; he's propped up your head, has 50 million cozy blankets, and fuzzy socks & sweatpants. EVERYTHING!

Insists you nap & will find any way to make you do so (even if that means he slips you drowsy cold medicine vs the nondrowsy)

So far so good right? Sure. But if you puke or have nonstop nose drippage he's gone

He will NOT be holding your hair back or cleaning up your tissues. He WILL hand you a trash bin to do it yourself. (He cannot risk contact)

Also this whole time he's been caring for you but from a distance. No cuddles, no kisses, and always washes his hands immediately after interacting with you. He's doing everything short of wearing a mask (and don't tempt him cause he will go there)

All in all 7/10; he tries but he will not be getting sick so don't expect affection from him while sick

🥊 Stanley (Stan) 💵

Stan won't notice you're sick until it's obvious (cough, puking, runny nose flowing down your face)

Very basic care but he tries; he's so used to living out of his car/off bare bones so he kinda forgot "luxury sick items"

Unlike Ford he doesn't care about getting sick & will actually get close/be more personable with you

He'll bring you cold medicine & tissues before bundling you up, putting something on the tv & curling up with you

Please hold this man's hand and clearly explain everything you want him to do for you otherwise he'll be mostly clueless

He doesn't mind taking care of you he just doesn't know what to do, he's so used to toughing colds out personally (he's like a Sim with no input lol)

If you want food he'll ask you what you want. Takeout? Sure, he'll go get it right away. Soup? He's on it, trying his best to cook. (He's bad at cooking so don't expect much.)

You need your hair held back while you puke, for sure! But he's looking away. And don't even think about asking him to pick up your "snot rags" (he has to draw a line somewhere)

Honestly, he thinks cuddles, TLC, and cold medicine will fix everything so if you ask for too much he might start questioning why or if you're conning him into doing extra (so don't try to convince him to do your chores or give you foot rubs)

He's definitely sharing his fav drama films/chick flicks with you, he thinks they're a great way to pass time cause they make you stay put to rest but they also distract you

Laughs at your weird sneezes & other weird sick noises

He likes to bring you tea or soup when sick because he has vivid memories of his mom bringing him hot drinks/soups (much like Ford)

If you do fall asleep he will watch over you while you sleep and/or cuddle you during sleep

All together 8.5/10 he's very nice and cuddly with you but will not know how to help you at all until you explain to him how to

🪕 Fiddleford (Fidds) 🧰

He can tell you're sick like a sixth sense (not scientific like Ford but just he can tell you're not yourself)

Immediately starts taking care of you & builds you a sick nest

"The Nest" is complete with tissues, a trashcan/puke bucket, millions of soft blankets & pillows, TV access with the remote nearby, phone + charger. (Optional: heated blanket, heating pad, snacks, etc. Honestly, anything you want he'll get.)

He'll check in on your regularly but not in the annoying nurse way Ford does & he'll make sure you take cold medicine as needed

He'll fetch you anything & fuss over you. Need your head propped up? Feet rubbed? Cold compress? Food? Drinks?

He'll cuddle you and curl up with you all you want

Hair will be pulled back while you puke and all dirty tissues will be picked up

Fidds doesn't care if he gets sick, you getting better is his main priority (plus if he gets sick he trusts you'll care for him the same)

Do you want tea? It's made EXACTLY how you like it. Soup? Absolutely! Takeout? He's on it!

He will encourage you to sleep & if you don't wanna or can't he'll do anything to help you drift off. Play you his banjo & sing to you. Cuddle you. Anything!

He worries for you & just wants to see you better okay?!

He knows a bunch of country/hillbilly cures, and recites wives tales to himself to ensure he tries all the tricks

That means get ready for: molasses on a spoon, ginger and lemon water, avoiding dairy, cold compresses for fevers, Vicks VapRub to the chest

While these things might help with your symptoms, none of these are gonna cure you; but he swears by them

He'll tell you stories about his childhood & family to keep you busy or put a smile on your face

Hope you enjoy him hovering cause he's not going away until you are better. He can and will sleep on the floor if he has to.

10/10 he's legit the cutest & is at your whim while you are sick (please be kind to him he's too pure)

#gravity falls #stanford pines #ford pines #stanley pines #stan pines #fiddleford mcgucket #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #mystery trio #headcanon #headcanons #scenarios

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