#if you have any suggestions please let me know:)

[babydoll372]

Hi, big fan here. Can you do something like fallen angel Wanda who's still innocent about humans? She was sent down to earth due to some reasons. She's curious about humans especially human's physical interactions, she's curious onto why human body seemed to be weak when she had taken reader over and over. Reader who's passed out naked in front of Wanda, and Wanda who's innocently angel-like looking and tilting her head on reader curious on why she's passed out when she's not even starting yet.

It started when Wanda saw a movie and there's this scene that piqued her curiosity about physical human interactions. And straight out told reader, "I want to do that to you." She may be innocent, but Wanda knows what she wants. Additional if Wanda's having her wings wrapped around reader while she pounds reader for her dear life...

Angel

Pairings: Angel!wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: 1,242

Warnings: smut, overstimulation, innocent!wanda, clinginess from Wanda, strap ons

Maybe taking Wanda exploring in a sex shop wasn’t the best idea. And maybe letting her pick out her favorite toy wasn’t either. Because now she giggled to herself with a mischievous grin as she held you close to her own body, the large strap pounding in and out of you repeatedly. She didn’t even realize her strength, her speed, her overstimulation. No, she was just having fun, and watching your eyes roll to the back of your head always satisfied her. Your hands went to her chest to try to wordlessly push her off due to your multiple orgasms now controlling your mind and emotions. But deep down you knew you wanted to keep this up for hours if it wasn’t for how quickly she tiptoed you over the edge. She tilted her head in confusion, not exactly understanding why you were trying to push her off. Her lips formed a pout, thinking you didn’t want her so close to you anymore. 

“Y/N…do you not want me hugging you anymore? I really like your hugs…” She could almost make you feel guilty for needing to push her off, but you shook her off, a loud moan rippling through your throat. You glanced down at your swollen cunt and she followed your eyes. “Oh, yeah, that! What about it?” 

“Please…c-can’t- ah! Can’t take anymore!” You rushed out, your hand coming to cover your mouth as your body began shaking violently once again. Her eyes widened, quickly pulling out of you and pausing your next breach of release.

“Fuck…I- whatever, thank you, baby…” You muttered out, your breath shaky as she sat there with a wide smile before looking down at your cunt.

“Uhm…are you sore? I- I didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear! I’m really sorr-“

“No, no, baby, it’s…it’s okay. I’m okay.” You tried to reassure, but your body was too weak to do much else. You tried rolling out of bed, but you fell instantly. Wanda instantly rushed to your side and picked you up bridal style in her arms, her eyes searching your face for any misfortunes. 

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt? Why did you try getting out of bed?” She continued asking multiple questions while continuing to hold you as if you weighed the same weight of a feather.

“Wanda, I- I need to clean up, you understand?”

“Clean up what? The house is spotless already! You do a really good job of cleaning, you know-“

“No, I mean me! Me, I need to clean me.” You slowly got out, the weakness in your bones forcing your mouth to move as slowly. She had a face of realization and then quickly brought you into the bathroom, leading you to the toilet after your instructions. She closed her eyes and looked away when you went, and then took over five minutes searching for a cloth that was right in front of her the entire time so that she could clean you. You would bathe in the morning and clean the sheets then too, but right now, you couldn’t. 

—

A few days later you were watching a movie your friend suggested to you when Wanda came in, awoken from her nap. She was pouty, clearly upset that you had gotten up in the time of her sleeping but, to your defense, she was such a light sleeper and you didn’t want to wake her up. Plus, you had no clue how long she’d be sleeping for. She plopped down next to you, basically on top of you, and dangled her feet back and forth over the couch, watching curiously. She asked every question you could since she joined late, and you eventually just had to restart it so she’d be caught up. Did that stop the questions? No. 

“I have another question,” You quietly sighed and nodded, encouraging her to speak. “Can I do that to you?” She pointed to the screen where a male character had the female character bent over and started thrusting into her. You nearly coughed on the popcorn you had been eating due to the shock factor, but slowly nodded.

“Yay! I’ll go get my toys then!” Wanda quickly sprung up, only for you to grab her arm and hold her back.

“Wait- now?” 

“Well…yeah? Please? Pretty please?” She dragged out her words, making it impossible for you to deny her puppy dog eyes. Moments later she came back with the large strap in hand and had you put it around her waist, giggling to herself as you did so. She then gently turned you around and bent you over the couch, your ass facing up and your face down. She hesitantly smacked your butt like the character did, only to quickly apologize and rub the area with her hand, pressing a kiss to the soft skin.

When she was inside you, she couldn’t feel how heavenly her long, protruding length felt. She didn’t realize that it took you about two minutes to orgasm due to some power she must’ve had. No man nor woman had ever been able to mimic what she was doing, and she didn’t even realize it. 

“Wanda- Wanda, please! Fuck, I- I’m gonna cum!” Wanda tilted her head in confusion but just kept going, watching your legs shake furiously the more she thrusted into you. She held onto your hips and leaned over you so she could simply hug you, yet the small action caused her to scratch your g-spot perfectly.

“D-don’t move, honey- s-stay right there!” You mustered out, only to feel complete disappointment when she stopped moving in general. “No! I- Wanda, I mean keep moving your hips but don’t move from where you’re holding me right now, you got it?” 

“Oh…okay!” All you could feel was overwhelming pleasure as your second orgasm came over you in a title wave, your mouth hanging low but your moans becoming silent. Your cunt was starting to feel sore, and you knew one more was the maximum. But now Wanda was starting to feel the strap rub against her clit softly, and she was chasing that with her thrusts. The quicker she fucked you, the quicker her little bud was played with. She whimpered softly into your ear and felt her wings forming around you, the two of you being wrapped up in her ball of protection. She cried out, quiet moans being whispered against you.

“Y/N…I- I feel funny…”

“You just need to cum, baby- so do I! Let it-…fuck! Right there, such a good girl, Wanda…let it all out for me!” She felt her teeth gently sink into your shoulder as her orgasm rippled through her body. You felt your own doing the same and tightly clasped onto her hand holding your stomach. 

“Wanda, honey, no- no more, okay?” She whined, her hips still jutting into you.

“But it’s fun! And it feels really good…”

Wanda, if you don’t listen to me I’m going to have to punish you.” She gulped, her movements instantly halting. That was the first time she heard the words come from your mouth; punishment. But she knew exactly what it meant. Her wings slowly unwrapped around you two, the strap slowly escaping you, yet her arms stayed where they were.

“…Can I at least hold you still?” You chuckled softly, reaching behind you to play with her hair and kiss her lips.

“You can always hold me, pretty girl.” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wayward 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, arranged marriage, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Duke!Steve Rogers (Medieval AU)

A Knights, Kings, and Knaves Story

Summary: you accompany the court to a foreign kingdom for a tournament of four kings and find yourself entwined with a staunch duke.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“My lord,” you gasp. “My apologies.” 

“For what affront? Having fun?” Duke Rogers challenges. He lets you go slowly, his touch dragging on your arms. 

“I... suppose,” you bat your lashes. “More so, not looking where I step.” 

“There are greater things to worry for,” he brushes his hands over his tunic then puts them behind him. Like many of the lords, he wears shorter sleeves as well. You notice how his muscles bulge beneath the skin. “I do hate to trod on your gaiety.” 

“My lord, not at all. I... think I am in need of a reprieve. I do get carried away,” you shift on your feet shyly. 

“Mm, it is rather raucous,” he glances past you and his brow arches. He moves as if ducking behind you. “Pardon, I see someone I’d rather not speak with.” 

“My lord?” You crane around in confusion. The ladies continue their buoyant prancing and your father peers through the crowd. You spin back to the duke. 

“As do I,” you eke out. 

“I know where we might retreat, until they pass us by,” he suggests. 

“Oh, you do?” You wonder. 

“Not to be untoward. My lady, be assured, I am promised to another and would not act ungentlemanly.” 

You peek back again and dodge your father’s eyeline. 

“I don’t worry for that,” you face the duke again. “Please, if you will.” 

He waves you away from your father and you scurry after him. He is sure in his stride. In his duties, he must be as familiar with this far away place as those who reside there.  

He leads you into the corridor, away from the din, and you sigh at the cool air. You only notice then how hot you truly are. The sweat has grown so constant that you’re quite used to your damp clothes. 

“Many thanks, my lord. I must confess, I did not wish to let my father spoil my night. Again.” 

“Your father?” He intones. 

“Mm, yes. I came with him. He is one of King Tony’s men. He has been rather... uptight. Especially since... well, it hardly matters.” 

“I admit I might not be any less,” Rogers huffs. “My king has caused quite the stir.” 

“Yes, he has,” you agree. “But it is good. He has a wife and that means he will have heirs.” 

“Mm, yes, in theory, it is very good,” he scratches his beard. “Ugh, this heat.” 

“It is horrid, isn’t it?” You fan yourself with your hands. 

“You wear it well,” he assures. 

You look at him coyly, “sir?” 

“You glisten,” he tilts his head coyly. “Mm,” he hums as his demeanour sinks. “How long can we hide? I must face that weasel soon enough. If I am to wed his daughter, I will have to do so often.” 

“Betrothed? That is exciting. Is she kind?” You ask. 

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve not met her as yet. The arrangement was agreed upon today. My king bids me to it. He says it is past time.” He crosses his arms. “Is there some handsome lord at home awaiting you?” 

“No, though my father wishes so. He hoped I might find a suitor here but... alas...” 

“Here? Oh, let us hope not. It is a den of intrigue. Only those with a purpose have come.” He clucks. “That would include myself. I came to ward off war though my leige does work against that end.” 

“War? Do you think?” You wince and cover your mouth. You shake your head. “Forgive me,” you speak between your fingers. “I ask foolish questions.” 

“It is not foolish to worry for war. It is a hideous affair. All should fear it,” he girds. 

“Yes, but I am a woman. I haven’t the mind for it. Father says.” You throw your your hands. “I can’t even find a husband. My sisters are wed. He is proud of them...” You look at the duke and cringe. “And I blabber at you about it.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

“You needn’t humour me,” you lean on a column. “What do you know of her? This beautiful lady you are to wed?” 

“Not very much, I fear.” 

“Did she say she is beautiful?” 

He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t know.” 

“Perhaps she is clever. She must be if she is to be a duke’s wife.” 

“Hopefully,” he agrees. 

“And she must take good care of a household,” you add. 

“She must,” he utters. “I didn’t... I am adjusting still to the idea, I think.” 

“I still can hardly fathom it. When I do finally find someone. A husband? In my head, I see only a shadow. As fearsome as a wraith.” You sigh. “Well, I’m certain your wife will be comely and sweet.” 

“I can hope.” He says. “She is in attendance, so I was informed, though I’ve not yet chanced upon her. That who I avoided, I’m sure he is eager for us to meet.” 

“You are... nervous?” 

“Unprepared,” he says. “But I am a duke, so it must be done. It seems not many men heed their duty, as it were. I should not follow in their stead.” 

“I’m certain all will be well,” you say. 

“For you as well,” he returns and glances over his shoulder. “Do you know very many ladies?” 

“Some.” 

“Perhaps you have met her?” He turns to you again. “If I gave you her name, would you point her out?” 

“I can try. As I said, I only know a handful beyond my own realm.” 

He looks you over thoughtfully. His brows stitch and his jaw ticks. He looks almost reluctant. He exhales through his nose. He enunciates the name clearly. You flinch. You squint at him curiously. 

“You know her?” He asks. 

You snort and flutter your lashes. How can it be? Truly? The duke?

“Why, yes sir, I do know her.” You squeak, “she is I—erm, I am her. Sir.” 

[florihaei]

• ౨ৎ ────── HEAVY HANDS, TENDER HEART ⟡ 🫐 ₊ ˖ ་.

˖ ！for my love lee jeno ❞ 💭 ( 이제노 ) ꒰ lee!jeno x fem!reader

in which … lee jeno fights battles inside and outside the ring, but the hardest one is keeping you at arm’s length. when misunderstandings and bruised hearts threaten to pull the both of you apart, jeno has to choose, keep guarding himself, or fight for the one person he can’t afford to lose ⟡ 🫐

⟡ 🫐 - boxer jeno !, angst/ suggestive/fluff- miscommunication, mentions of physically injures(bruises, cuts), happy ending!, names : pretty, baby, pretty girl, angel!

౨ৎ … WC - 2k! ( FLORIHAEI’S VALUT )

⟡ 🫐 秋のメモ… ︵ ︵ ིྀ - decided to do a little change to the theme, i don’t know how to feel about it! let me know!!, but feedback and reblogs are always greatly appreciated!!, please enjoy!!

©florihaei 2025 ꒰ do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without permission ۟ ׅ ͡ ୨ৎ

the gym always smelled like sweat every time you came. punching bags swayed the ceiling, the sound of gloves hitting the leather echoing off the concrete wall as. and the center of it all stood. lee jeno, your boyfriend, your boxer, your biggest heartbreak waiting to happen.

you watched him from the corner bench, arms crossed tightly against your chest. his movement were sharp. there was something so captivating about how focused he was. but today, you weren’t just here to admire him. today you were here because he hadn’t answered your calls in three days.

jeno ducked under a punch form his partner and finished with a clean uppercut. the partner stumbled back, waving a gloved hand to signal to end the match. jeno ripped off his gloves, tossing them to the side, and finally after what felt like ages his eyes met yours.

you stood up, tension stiffening in your spine.

“hey” he said as his voice was low and rough from his match you guessed.

“hey..” you stared at him, taking in his he bruises that were going along his jaw. “you good?”

he shrugged, wiping his face with a towel. “it’s just training.”

“you didn’t call me back” your voices cracked a little bit, and you hated that.

jeno avoided your gaze, tossing the towel onto a bench. “i’ve been busy.”

you stepped closer, feeling like you were standing at the edge of a cliff. “too busy to text me once?”

there was a moment of silence. the sound of gloves hitting bags filled the air again, but it feels like the world had shrunk to just you and him.

“im not trying to hurt you” jeno muttered, finally looking at you, and you just wished he hadn’t. his expression was closed off, his expression was closed off, his guard up, like you weren’t just another opponent.

“then what are you trying to do jeno?” your voice was small, honest…

he breathed out sharply through his nose. “im trying to focus, i have a fight coming up. I don’t need distractions..”

those words hit harder than any punch.

“oh” you laughed bitterly, wrapping your arms around yourself: “right .. im a distraction”

he flinched like he hadn’t meant for it to come out like that. but it was too late. you were already backing away, your chest filled with hurt.

“good luck with your next fight” you said tightly, turning before he could see your eyes blur with tears.

-

you didn’t hear from jeno for a week.

you didn’t watch his fight, event those you saw it trending online.

you didn’t answer when he text late at night, with two simple words, “im sorry”

you didn’t trust yourself to answer, because if you did, you knew you would forgive him to easily, and you weren’t sure if you should.

but love is messy, it’s stupid, it doesn’t listen to your logic.

so when someone knocks on your door at midnight two days later, you knee before you opened it that it was him.

jeno stood there, hoodie pulled low over his forehead, hands shoved into his pockets. a fresh cut split the corner of his lip, and bruises shadowed his knuckles.

“can i come in?” he asked, voice horse.

you hesitated, every instinct screaming at you to protect yourself, but you stepped aside anyway.

he walked in slowly, like he was scared to break something. you stayed by the door, watching him like he might vanish.

for a long moment, neither of you said anything.

then jeno finally turned to face you, his walls down for once, his eyes raw and vulnerable.

“i won” he said quietly. “the fight.. i won”

you nodded stiffly. “congrats”

he swallowed hard. “it didn’t feel good.”

that caught you off guard. “what?”

jeno ran a hand through his messy hair, pacing a little like he was in the ring again, trying to find the right angle.

“i thought winning would fix everything, i thought if i just.. pushed everyone away, i could focus.. be better. be stronger”

he stopped, fist clenching at his sides.

“but i was wrong, i was so fucking wrong baby.”

you pressed your back against the door, trying to keep steady as he stepped closer.

“you’re not a distraction ___” jeno said, his voice breaking. “you’re the only thing that’s keeping me sane”

tears stared to prick your eyes, but you blinked them away. “then why did you push me away jeno?”

he looked at you like you were asking him to pull his own heart out. “because i was scared angel.. scared that if i let myself need you, and something happened.. i’d lose everything”

“you wouldn’t lose me jen” you whispered. “you never had to choose between fighting and loving me.”

he stepped closer, so close that you could feel the heart radiating off him, you could smell the faint scent of leather and sweat clung to his skin.

“i know that now pretty.”

his hands hesitantly, then dropping again, like he didn’t know if he had the right to touch you anymore.

you reached for his first.

your fingers brushed against his bruised knuckles, gently and tenderly, and jeno let out a shaken breath like the smallest touch was enough to undo him.

“i’m sorry” he whispered again. “for everything baby”

you nodded, your throat too tight to speak. then he reached up, cupping his batted face, pulling him down for a kiss.

it wasn’t perfect, he winched slightly against the cut on his lips, but it didn’t matter. it was real, it was yours.

when you pulled away, jeno pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

“i love you” he said, his voice raw.

you let out a broken laugh, tears finally slipping free. “i love you too idiot”

he smiled, it was small.. real, the kind of smile you hadn’t seen in weeks.

“stay?” you whispered.

he nodded without hesitation, pulling you tightly against his chest like he was scared you might slip away again.

“always..”

jeno was a fighter in and out of the ring, but when he was with you, he didn’t have to fight anymore he could just be him.

[jkwrites-m]

Another Time (1)

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

Genre: soulmates, past life, thriller, smut, fluff, angst

Word Count: 7.9k

Summary: When Y/N and Jungkook begin sharing vivid dreams of each other, their connection feels too real to ignore. When tragedy from a past life begins bleeding into the present, they’re forced to unravel the mystery of love, betrayal, and fate.

Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+, emotional child abuse, shitty ass parents, slight cursing, sexual tension, fluff, cigarettes, alcohol consumption (pls drink responsibly!!), kissing, heavy petting (??)

A/N: hi so this is my first ever fic (: I normally just read but one day (abt 3 months ago) I wanted to write something so I decided to try and it took me a that long bc I’m really lazy and suffer from perfectionism so I had to write then rewrite the entire thing first 😭 anyways please enjoy and let me know what you think and any criticism is welcome! - m 🫶

Notes : okay ONE more thing 🤧 anything in normal text is present day. Anything in BOLD is a dream-memory. Okay NOW you can enjoy 🫶

MASTERPOST

♡ next

═══════

There are things in this universe no one can truly explain.

Not with science. Not with reason. Not even with faith. Some things simply are. They’re undeniable, inexplicable, scary. 

Like the way a stranger can stop you in your tracks with a single glance. You’ve never met them, yet something in you stirs like a memory. A flicker of recognition that doesn't belong in this moment, but somewhere before it. You feel it before you understand it: the quiet certainty that this person was never a stranger at all.

Or how a passing scent that carries the trace of something familiar. Cigarette smoke and spring rain, warm vanilla and leather, a perfume you haven’t smelled in years. Then suddenly, you’re not standing in the present anymore. You’re somewhere between then and now, in a place you remember too well.

And then, there’s the connection. The kind that you don’t form. It’s the kind that you remember. You meet someone, and it doesn’t feel like the beginning. It feels like you're returning. You speak in glances, in comfortable silences, in laughter of stories that have long since passed. As if your souls had been waiting, circling back through lifetimes just to find each other again.

═══════

You remember how your mother used to talk about love.

Not just in passing, clichés or fairy tales, but with the influence of someone who had lived it. She spoke about her father like he had been written into her story long before they ever even met. She’d say his name like it held her heart. And every time she did, you felt something hopeful bloom quietly inside you. 

On quiet days, coloring at the dining room table, where the sun would slip through the kitchen windows and the world outside felt calm, she'd tell you how she first saw him. How he wasn’t trying to be noticed. He didn’t have to be. He just was. A first glance on that blind date, a leap into the unknown from the suggestion of a friend, and somehow, she knew that he was the one.

“I loved him before he ever looked my way,” she would whisper over coffee, stirring the spoon slowly like she was turning back time. “It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t planned. But I just… knew.” She said it in a way that made you believe her. Not because it sounded magical, but because it didn’t. It sounded like the truth. Like something your own heart might recognize one day too, if it ever got the chance.

Somehow, it became the blueprint for my own dreams. I didn’t just want love. I wanted that. That unshakable certainty. That gentle breath of familiarity. But even before I could name it as love, before I ever heard her stories of fate and forever, there was him.

That funny-looking boy I saw every night in my dreams. His large eyes always had a hint of curiosity and playfulness. For as long as I could remember, he was always there. With eyes I never really understood but always trusted. The dreams weren’t centered on me, though they came through my eyes. He was always the focus, the center of every scene. I watched him grow alongside me, getting older with each year, his features maturing just as mine did. The way he would look at me with more love in every single dream. 

═══════

The playground smelled like sunshine and peanut butter.

The bell had barely finished ringing when the doors burst open and kids flooded the blacktop like bees from a hive. It was the kind of day where the air was crisp but the sun still made your cheeks warm. Rust-colored leaves dotted the corners of the chain-link fence and crunched under running sneakers.

Jungkook ran straight for the jungle gym, sneakers squeaking as he slid down the metal pole like a firefighter. He landed with a triumphant “Ta-da!” and turned, grinning wide when he saw her.

Y/N stood nearby, hugging her puffy red jacket close, watching him with a shy smile. She had a piece of bubblegum in her mouth and a Barbie band-aid on her left knee.

“You saw that, right?” Jungkook asked, bouncing in place. “I totally didn’t fall this time.”

“I saw,” she giggled, stepping closer. “You looked like a superhero.”

Jungkook puffed out his chest. “I am a superhero. Want me to save you from lava or something?”

Y/N grinned. “Only if the lava is pink.”

“That’s the worst kind,” he said seriously. “We’ll need snacks before we go.”

They made their way to the tire swing, spinning each other so fast that their laughs got tangled in the wind. At one point, Y/N stumbled off, dizzy, and landed in the grass.

Jungkook flopped down beside her, brushing dirt off his sleeves.

“Hey,” he said after a moment, poking her arm.

“What?”

“I like you.”

She blinked at him.

“Like a lot,” he added. “Like more than pizza.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s a lot.”

He nodded solemnly. “I think I’m gonna marry you one day.”

Her face went bright pink. She covered it with her mittened hands. “You can’t say that!”

“Why not?” Jungkook grinned. “You’re my favorite person.”

She peeked through her fingers. “Well... I guess I like you too. But I still like pizza.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “We can have pizza at the wedding.”

Y/N burst out laughing.

The teacher blew the whistle. Recess was over.

But as they lined up, side by side, Jungkook reached out and took her mittened hand in his.

Just for a second.

And neither of them let go too quickly.

═══════

The strange thing was, it never felt like now. It always felt like then. Like another time entirely. The clothes, the places, the colorful lights and blur of a different decade. When I was little, I thought maybe he was just in my imagination. My make-believe friend that night had brought to life. But as I aged, the dreams didn't fade. They grew sharper. Eventually, a bitter understanding settled inside of me: he was from the past.

And yet, knowing that didn’t make it any easier to let go.

I never stopped searching for his face. Even when I didn't realize it. My eyes would drift across train stations, cafés, bookstores, airports. Scanning crowds without meaning to. Not for anything in particular- just for him. That face I would know in an instant. That echo from my dreams that never left. 

Maybe it was my mother’s stories that kept the hope alive. Maybe it was something older, something deep within me. But even in the moments when I told myself to stop believing in things I couldn’t explain, the never ending search continued. 

And then one day, it happened.

Not in a dream. Not in memory.

In life.

═══════

Jungkook never believed in love.

Not because he didn’t want to. But because, in his world, love was nothing more than a hollow word people used when they had to. In his house, silence was more common than words, and cold glares were the constant norm.

His parents had never loved each other. At least, not in a way he ever saw. They moved around each other like strangers forced to share the same space. There were no soft touches. No laughter through the walls. No bedtime stories. No warm goodnights. Just clipped sentences, slammed doors, and the ever-present disdain beneath the surface.

And for him? Well, he was just existing. A fixture. An afterthought. Someone they were forced to provide for but never nurtured. No hugs or encouragement. Just expectations, rules, and dismissals that cut deeper than words ever could.

So when he would fall asleep and the dreams would happen, he hated them.

Every night, like clockwork, she would appear.

That same girl. That same face. Always glowing with a kind of warmth he couldn’t understand. Always smiling at him like he was someone worth loving. And the worst part? They were happy. Together. In love. He’d see them laughing, holding hands, growing together through many make-believe summers and cozy winters that didn’t belong in his world. He saw their first kiss. Their first time. The way she looked at him like she knew him more than he knew himself.

═══════

It was the Sadie Hawkins dance, and the lights had been dimmed just enough to feel like something important could happen—but not so dark that the chaperones couldn’t still see everything.

Y/N stood near the refreshment table, fidgeting with the hem of her pink dress, hands slightly clammy. Across the room, Jungkook was talking to his best friend, but he kept sneaking glances at her every few seconds, like his eyes had their own crush and weren’t good at hiding it.

She had asked him last week, stammering so badly that he hadn’t even answered at first. He just nodded really fast like a bobblehead, cheeks as red as a cherry slushie.

Now they were here. Together. At an actual dance. And it felt like the whole world had tilted just a little.

A slow song started playing.

Jungkook appeared at her side like a ghost in an ill-fitting button-down shirt.

“Wanna dance?” he mumbled, voice cracking a little at the end.

She smiled, heart pounding in her ears. “Okay.”

They moved to the middle of the floor, hands hovering before they finally found each other, his hands on her waist, hers on his shoulder. They swayed awkwardly. Off-beat. Too close, then too far. Her nose bumped his once.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s okay,” he whispered back, his smile crooked and nervous.

Their foreheads were nearly touching now. Everyone else had disappeared - their classmates, the disco ball, the terrible decorations made from crepe paper and glitter glue. It was just them. Two kids with too-big feelings and too-small words.

“I... um,” Jungkook started, blinking. “Can I... kiss you?”

Her eyes went wide. “Right now?”

He nodded, petrified.

She swallowed. “Okay.”

They both leaned in too fast and bumped noses again. She tilted her head the other way and Jungkook followed, and after a moment of complete, breathless chaos

Their lips meet.

It was clumsy. Quick. Barely there. But it was warm. And electric. And perfect in the weirdest, most middle-school kind of way.

Y/N pulled back, wide-eyed and stunned.

“Whoa,” she whispered.

Jungkook nodded slowly. “Yeah. Like... wow.”

She giggled, and he laughed too.

And for the rest of the night, they danced without saying much, just grinning like fools who’d discovered something the universe had been keeping secret just for them.

═══════

It was fucking infuriating.

He didn’t want to see her. He didn't want to want her. He didn’t want to wake up every morning with the ache of something lost. The dreams felt like a cruel joke. A taunt from the universe that seemed to mock him with everything he would never have, and worse, everything he didn’t deserve.

And still… she kept showing up. Always the same eyes. Always the same kindness. Never pushing, never judging. She was just simply there. A promise etched into his being. A truth he didn't ask for.

So he tried to ignore it and drown it out. Bury himself in a cold detachment, a trait he unfortunately inherited, in girls who didn’t remind him of her. He picked up habits that offered easy silence. Those became his comfort, his escape, his rebellion to the universe.

The drinking started as a way to sleep without dreams. The smoking was more about the waiting and something to do with his hands when the nights got too quiet. They numbed the edges of things, blurred out the longing, buried the ache beneath a haze he could control. He told himself the dreams meant nothing. She meant nothing. Just static in the brain. A side effect of loneliness and an overactive imagination.

But then he saw her.

He saw you. In real life.

In this life.

And all that anger, all that resentment, all those years of bitterness crumbled with just one look.

Because it was her.

The girl from the dreams.

The girl who’d haunted him in the corners of his mind, who he thought was nothing more than a fantasy.

And suddenly, he wasn’t angry anymore. He was infatuated . Completely undone in an instant. Not by what he remembered, but by what was standing right in front of him. Her, completely real, breathing, and even more beautiful than any dream he had ever captured.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to approach someone he’d loved and resented for so long. Someone he’d never met, yet somehow knew like a book he helped write. 

He just knew the moment he saw you, the universe stopped joking.

═══════

A neon sign buzzed faintly in the window of Vinyl & Bean, the downtown café tucked between a record store and a flower shop, with Bowie’s “Let’s Dance” playing low through the jukebox. Outside, snow drifted in soft spirals, glossing across the sidewalks in a glistening coat of white that made the world feel hushed and still.

Jungkook sat at a booth in the far corner, bouncing his knee beneath the table, fingers tapping the lip of a paper cup. His leather jacket squeaked slightly as he adjusted in the seat. The café smelled like cinnamon, espresso, and old books. It felt like something out of a movie.

She walked in, hands shoved into pockets, laughing at something the barista said as she stepped through the door.

And just like that, everything else blurred out.

She wore a denim jacket patched with band logos, hair a little damp, cheeks pink from the cold. There were tiny snowflakes clinging to her lashes, and a glint in her eyes that knocked the air out of Jungkook’s lungs.

She saw him and lit up like she always did.

“Well, well,” she teased, approaching the booth. “You waited for me.”

Jungkook stood too fast, knocking his knee on the table, cursing under his breath. “Always,” he said, trying to play it cool and utterly failing. “You’re my favorite person to wait for.”

She laughed, sliding into the seat across from him. “That was dangerously charming.”

“Was it?” he grinned. “Good. I rehearsed that one.”

She rested her chin on her hands, looking at him like he hung the stars. “You’re nervous. You only rehearse lines when you’re nervous.”

“Not true. I also do it when I want to impress someone wildly out of my league.”

“Smooth,” she giggled. “So, what’s the occasion?”

He shrugged, then handed her a folded napkin. “Just wanted to spend the day with you. Also… I wrote you a poem.”

She blinked. “You wrote me a poem? Are you trying to kill me?”

“You’ll live. Barely.”

Unfolding it, she read aloud: ‘Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you’

 She groaned. “God, you're such a sap.”

Jungkook beamed. “And yet, here you are. Still dating the sap.”

She reached across the table, curling her fingers around his. “I’m dating you, Jungkook. The sap just makes it better.”

Outside, the rain kept time with the music inside, an old Prince song fading into Eurythmics, laughter buzzing through the café from a few tables over.

They talked for hours - remembering stupid inside jokes, debating the best love song of the decade (“It’s Endless Love,” she insisted, and he pretended to be horrified), and playing that game where they guessed what strangers were saying at other tables.

He watched her like she was a moment he didn’t want to blink through.

And the whole time, his hand in his jacket pocket fidgeted with the little velvet box.

Now, his heart whispered. Do it now.

But every time she laughed or looked at him with those soft, knowing eyes, the words tangled in his throat.

So he cleared it. Looked down. Looked back up.

“Hey,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

She tilted her head. “Sounds serious.”

“It is,” he said. “Kind of.”

She stares up at him, giving her full attention, wrapping her fingers around the mug for warmth. “I’m listening.”

Jungkook stood suddenly, heart pounding against his ribs like a drumline, and came around to kneel beside the booth. The whole café didn’t stop (this wasn’t a movie), but it sure felt like it did.

Her eyes widened. “Wait - what are you - ”

He opened the little box.

And there it was.

A ring. Delicate, gold, with a small round diamond in the center.

“I know it’s not the biggest ring and this isn’t the fanciest place. And I’m definitely sweating,” he laughed nervously. “But I’ve loved you since the first time you forgot my name at daycare. I’ve loved you through every mixtape, every late-night phone call, every time you made fun of my handwriting.”

He swallowed, eyes bright.

“I want every coffee with you. Every snowy day. Every slow dance in a parking lot after everyone else has gone home. I want this. I want you forever. So… will you please marry me?”

She just bursted out laughing. Not mocking, not dismissive. Just overwhelmed joy, bubbling out like a soda shaken too hard.

“Yes,” she breathed, nodding furiously. “Yes, yes, a million times yes.”

Jungkook blinked. “Wait, really??”

She pulled him up by the collar of his jacket and kissed him right there in the middle of the coffee shop, hands in his hair, the ring still in the box between them.

“Of course really,” she whispered. “You’re it for me.”

Jungkook kissed her like it was the first time all over again, grinning so hard he almost missed her slipping the ring on by herself.

He sat beside her after, heart still racing, holding her hand like it anchored him.

“You know,” she teased, “this better not be a dream.”

═══════

The scent of coffee beans drifted through the air, rich and comforting, clinging to the worn wooden beams of the café ceiling. It was a quiet Tuesday morning in Seoul. 

It was cold enough that my breath was still visible as I stepped inside, a scarf wrapped around my neck and the directions on my phone still running. The city was still unfamiliar. Fast and loud - it made me feel alive in a way that was both thrilling and intimidating.

I took a tentative step toward the counter, the soft chime above the door echoing faintly throughout the shop. I really didn’t mean to find this place. But it was warm, and something tugged in my chest, telling me to go into the coffee shop tucked on a quieter street near the subway station.

That’s when I saw him.

Sitting at the far corner table, dark hair tousled, sleeves pushed up, showcasing tattoos I’d never seen before. A black coffee steaming in front of him.

It was him.

The boy from my dreams. From the night before.

He looked older here. Real. Less like the soft, loving film reel I’d been watching in my sleep for years and more like someone the universe had dragged across decades just to place here, in front of me, in flesh and blood.

My pulse skipped. My hands went cold. But I couldn’t look away.

═══════

From his corner, Jungkook lifted his eyes and felt something punch the air from his lungs. A girl stood near the door- eyes wide, lips parted slightly, cheeks pink from the winter chill- and for a moment he thought he was dreaming again. It was her. The girl. His girl. He blinked hard, trying to shake you loose from his imagination.

But she didn’t disappear.

You didn’t disappear. 

Neither of us moved. The noise of the café faded into a soft hum, the way the dreams always dulled the background. It was just us now, and the heavy pounding of unspoken recognition.

I stepped forward slowly, with my heart in my throat.

Say something, don’t just stand there. 

I felt like a kid again, all awkward limbs and restless thoughts, but the pull was too strong to ignore. My voice came out softer than I wanted.

“Hi,” I said, brushing her hair behind one ear. “Sorry, this is going to sound weird, but… you look really familiar.”

Jungkook stared at her, startled, heart hammering. The dream version of her had always spoken first. And the real version? She was right here. She was real.

He panicked.

“Yeah?” he muttered, already pulling his gaze away. “Don’t think I know you.”

His voice wasn’t cruel, but it was clipped. Cold. Defensive.

I blinked. “Oh. I - sorry. I just thought…”

I trailed off, cheeks going red again. It was stupid. I shouldn’t have said anything. He wasn’t the same person as the one in my dream. 

I quickly turned, my stomach sinking as I reached for the door.

Then came the scrape of a chair behind me.

“Wait.”

I paused, hand on the door, but I didn’t turn around.

Jungkook ran a hand through his hair and stepped closer, his voice softer now. “Sorry. That was… I’m not good at first impressions.”

I turned, eyes cautious. “You think?”

He gave a smirk. “Okay, I deserved that.”

I bit down on my lip, torn between annoyance and disbelief. “I was just trying to say hi. You looked familiar.”

“So did you,” he said quietly. “Too familiar.”

We stood there, the tension between them shifting- less sharp now, more curious.

“I’m Jungkook,” he said, giving a small bow before holding out his hand.

“Y/N,” I replied, copying the bow and placing my smaller hand in his. His grip was warm. Steady. Electrifying.

“You just moved here?” he asked.

I nodded. “That obvious? I’ve wanted to live in Seoul since I was a kid. Kind of surreal.”

Jungkook tilted his head, his eyes sweeping over me with more interest than he probably should’ve shown. “Dream city for a dream girl, huh?”

I laughed, caught off guard by the line and the sudden switch to flirtation. “Oh god, is that your idea of flirting?”

“It’s working, isn’t it?” he winked.

I shook my head, blush spreading up my neck. “Barely.”

“I know this is forward but, can I have your number?”

My brows lifted. “Why?”

“So I can text you bad puns and pretend it’s not an excuse to see you again, obviously.”

I smiled despite myself and handed my phone over. “Fine. But no attitude next time.”

He typed in his number, a giant toothy smile gracing his breathtaking face. “Promise.”

We parted with a lingering glance, both carrying a spark neither wanted to admit was fate.

I walked away feeling like the world had tilted just slightly into place. Mom’s stories whispering into my ear. 

And for the first time in years, Jungkook didn’t feel like running from his past - he felt like chasing the future.

Something that had been waiting for both of them.

In dreams.

And now, finally, in reality.

═══════

Morning light spilled across the bed in warm, golden stripes, slipping between half-drawn blinds and brushing over tangled sheets, tousled hair, and two grinning faces buried in each other.

Y/N blinked awake to the soft weight of Jungkook’s arm across her waist, his thumb lazily drawing circles against her skin.

She turned slowly, still not quite believing the sparkle of the ring on her finger.

“You’re staring,” she whispered, finding him already awake, already smiling.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured, voice husky with sleep. “I proposed to the prettiest girl on Earth last night. Kind of want to make sure it wasn’t a dream.”

She smiled, eyes fluttering. “If it was, we had the same one.”

Jungkook leaned in and kissed her. It was slow, lingering, the kind of kiss that tasted like shared futures and morning breath you didn’t care about. His hand slid to her hip, tugging her slightly closer.

She gasped quietly when he deepened the kiss, noses brushing, fingers finding bare skin beneath the covers.

“Hey,” she whispered, breath hitching. “You’re getting handsy.”

“I just got engaged,” he whispered back, lips grazing hers between words. “I earned it.”

She giggled, burying her face in his neck as he trailed kisses along her jaw.

“Slow down, Romeo,” she teased, pulling the blanket higher. “You already locked me in.”

“Just making sure you stay locked in,” he said with a wink.

And they stayed there just tangled in warmth, laughter, and love that felt like it had always been there.

═══════

The next morning, Seoul looked different.

I walked these same streets just yesterday, bundled in my coat, trying to memorize subway exits and the names of cafes, but now it all shimmered with a quiet kind of electricity. 

Maybe it was the coffee still lingering in my system. Or maybe it was the number saved in my phone. Jungkook . It looked strange seeing his name there, not scrawled across the edges of sleep, but real.

I haven’t texted him yet.

Every time I tried, I’d just delete it, too nervous to say the wrong thing, too thrilled to ruin this spell. Because what if it wasn’t real? What if he forgot me already? What if I only imagined the way he smiled when he typed in his number?

I clutched my phone tighter in my pocket.

Meanwhile, across the city, Jungkook hadn’t stopped thinking about you. 

He hadn’t smoked all morning, hadn’t even touched the bottle of soju his roommate left open on the counter. He didn’t know what the hell was happening to him, but something in his chest felt lighter. And heavier. All at once. 

He tried to distract himself with dumb things. Scrolling through his feed, lifting weights, cleaning his place, but his mind kept circling back to you. Your soft laugh. The way your voice caught at the start of every sentence, like you weren’t sure if you were allowed to speak. The way you looked at him like you knew him, even when you shouldn’t have.

He finally grabbed his phone and stared at your name.

Y/N.

He almost didn’t send it. But then,

Jungkook: you like coffee or was that a one-time thing?

He hit send before he could overthink it, then threw the phone across the couch like it was on fire.

Your phone buzzed while you were inside a convenience store picking up ramen and instant rice. I froze. Then read it. Then reread it three more times.

My lips curled up before I even realized I was smiling.

Y/N: i like coffee. just not assholes who sit in corners of cafes ☺️.

I sent it before I could overthink it, then grabbed a snack that I didn’t even want just to keep my hands busy.

Back on the other side of the city, Jungkook read your reply and barked out a laugh. He liked that you had bite. He liked that you remembered. And fuck, he liked that you even replied.

Jungkook: let me try again? same café? 2pm?

Your fingers hovered over the keys. Then:

Y/N: you better be nice this time

Jungkook: no promises 😉

═══════

Before 2pm, I was already there. I sat at the corner booth, the same one he had occupied yesterday, my nerves buzzing under my skin like tv static. I wore something simple (nothing crazy like the girls in the dreams wore) but I felt more real, more alive, than I ever had before.

Jungkook walked in five minutes late. On purpose.

He spotted you instantly. And when your eyes met, that same undeniable electric current passed between you again. 

He walked over, running a hand through his already tousled hair, doing his best to play it cool.

“You’re in my spot,” he said.

You raised an eyebrow. “I thought we weren’t doing attitude today.”

“Right,” he smirked, sliding into the seat across from you. “Hi, again.”

“Hi,” you replied, softer this time.

You ordered coffees and chatted about safe topics - your new job, the weirdness of grocery stores here, the best street food in Seoul. He asked questions, teasing ones, and you answered with playful half-lies and awkward truths.

I never brought up the dreams. I kept them a secret. Like if I said them aloud, he would disappear.

But I didn’t have to.

It was in every glance. Every pause between sentences. In the way we already moved around each other like we’ve done this before.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing just a little. “So, Seoul… is it really your dream?”

“Since I was eight,” I nodded. “I used to beg my mom to let me study Korean. She thought I was insane.”

“Smart mom,” he teased.

You stuck your tongue out at him. “You asked for this conversation.”

“I did,” he said, his tone softer now. “And I’m glad I did.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable. Curious. Like the pause before a kiss.

Eventually, Jungkook leaned forward, voice lower. “So… can I get your number again?”

“You already have it.” I said while tilting my head.

“Yeah,” he grinned. “But I needed a reason to ask for a proper date.”

I flushed and glanced down, biting my bottom lip.

“Okay,” softly. “Ask.”

“Would you like to maybe… hang out again sometime that doesn’t involve caffeine and attitude?”

I laughed. “Sure. But I’m picking the spot next time.”

He held out his pinky. “Deal.”

I locked mine with his.

This wasn’t the beginning of something.

It was the continuation of something our hearts had already started, long before we ever met.

In another life. In another dream.

And finally, finally, in reality.

═══════

Later that night, I stood by my apartment window, staring out at the distant city lights.

Fingers brushing over my phone, hesitating above Jungkook’s name in my messages. I didn’t have a reason to text him. Not yet. But I kept replaying every second of the afternoon, the way he looked at me, the way he smiled like he was holding back laughter and fear at the same time. It was disarming.

And confusing.

He was both familiar and foreign. Pieces of him still echoed the version I’d grown up with in my dreams - like his bunny smile, the way he tilted his head when listening, or the gentleness behind his sarcasm - but the real-life version was rawer. Edgier. There was pain in his eyes he didn’t talk about, and I didn’t dare ask

I wanted to. God, I really fucking wanted to. But this wasn’t a dream. I didn’t know the rules here.

Across town, Jungkook sat on his bed with a cigarette burning slowly between his fingers. The smoke curled toward the ceiling, joining the faint scent of old cologne and fabric softener. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you walked away from him earlier.

He was hooked.

He hated how fast it happened. How badly he already wanted to see you again. Not for lust. Not even out of curiosity.

He just missed you.

And that didn’t make sense.

You weren’t supposed to be real. You weren’t supposed to walk into his favorite café, all wide eyes and nervous smiles, looking like the answer to a question he hadn’t asked aloud.

He took another drag and exhaled slowly. His room was silent except for the hum of traffic from outside. He hadn’t told anyone about the dreams in awhile. But now you were here and that reality was breaking down every wall he’d spent years building. 

He grabbed his phone and typed something. Deleted it. Typed again.

Jungkook: you got a favorite place in the city yet?

He hit send and laid back, staring at the ceiling. 

Your reply came less than a minute later.

Y/N: my rooftop? does that count?

Jungkook: it counts. as long as i get to see it one day.

You hesitate.. Then type:

Y/N: you just might .

The words lingered between you, a silent promise neither was ready to define.

═══════

The next few days passed in a blur of texts and nervous anticipation. You didn’t meet in person again but talked constantly. Stupid jokes. Music links. Flirty texts that made you blush into your pillow and made him smirk like a schoolboy with a crush. 

It was easy.

Too easy.

And that scared you

One night, as rain drummed softly against your windows, you curled up in bed and let your mind wander back to the old dreams. The ones set in vivid tones. The ones where Jungkook wore vintage jackets and danced with you at candlelit dinners. Where he kissed you on sidewalks under flickering neon signs and would whisper secrets like you had all the time in the world 

He had been softer in those dreams. Safer. But maybe that was because dream-Jungkook didn’t have real scars.

This Jungkook, the one who smoked too much and apologized too little, wasn’t perfect.

But he was real. 

And you’re starting to think that maybe… just maybe… that was better.

Meanwhile, Jungkook sat on the edge of his kitchen counter, finishing his third beer and flicking ash into a cracked ceramic dish. The apartment was too quiet. Too heavy with thought. And his phone buzzed again.

Y/N: do you ever feel like we’ve known each other longer than we have?

His heart kicked hard in his chest. 

He stared at the message.

Typed:

Jungkook: all the time.

Deleted it.

Typed:

Jungkook: maybe we have.

He didn’t send that one either.

Instead, he turned off the screen and let the silence settle in around him.

Some things didn’t need to be said.

Not yet

Because this wasn’t a dream anymore.

This was the start of something terrifyingly, beautifully real.

═══════

The arcade buzzed with neon lights and synthy pop music, the air thick with the scent of popcorn, soda syrup, and adolescent adrenaline. Machines chirped and beeped, some blasting digitized explosions while others played victory jingles. Street Fighter II blared from the corner as kids huddled around it, cheering for pixelated punches.

Jungkook didn’t care about any of that. His attention was locked on one thing.

Y/N.

She stood in front of a claw machine, brow furrowed as she tried to snag a sad-looking plush dolphin trapped in the corner. Her tongue peeked out the side of her mouth in concentration, and Jungkook (leaning against the side of the machine) watched with an unrelenting smirk.

“You’re way too cute to be this competitive,” he teased, nudging her hip with his.

She elbowed him gently, not looking away. “If I get this thing, it’s going on our wedding cake.”

Jungkook leaned in close, his lips brushing just beneath her ear. “Then I hope it never comes out. I like watching you like this.”

She flushed instantly, eyes darting around to make sure no one was looking. “Jungkook,” she hissed, swatting at his arm. “We’re in public!”

“I know,” he said shamelessly, resting both hands on her waist and pulling her back against his chest. “You’re hot, we’re engaged, and I’m obsessed with you. Sue me.”

She wriggled free, barely holding in a laugh as she turned to face him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.” He grinned and took her hand, spinning her once like they were dancing on a hardwood floor instead of sticky arcade carpet.

Her laughter was soft, nervous, delighted.

He caught her against his chest again, this time kissing her cheek so exaggeratedly loud she squealed and pushed him away. “Stop!”

“No.”

“People are watching,” she whispered.

“I don’t care. Let them stare,” he said, eyes locked on hers, voice dropping low. “You’re mine.”

Her heart stuttered. “You’re insufferable.”

“You’re marrying me.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Oh, I’ll remind you,” he murmured, nuzzling into her neck. “Every hour. Every minute. Every second. Especially in public.”

She shoved him away again, cheeks blazing. “Play something. Go shoot aliens or save a princess or whatever.”

Jungkook gave her one last dramatic kiss on the hand before winking. “I’ll win you a prize.”

“You already did.”

He stopped, grinning like a fool. “God, I love you.”

And before she could hide her smile, he was off, coins in hand, yelling, “THIS ONE’S FOR YOU, BABE!” while running toward Time Crisis like a man on a mission.

She stood there, arms crossed, heart racing.

Totally his.

═══════

By the end of the week, you had memorized Jungkook’s texting habits.

He was dry in the morning, playful by late afternoon, and strangely sentimental around midnight. He sent voice notes when he was too lazy to type, used emojis constantly, and had a habit of ghosting for hours only to come back with something stupidly charming like “miss me?”

You had never smiled at your phone so much in your life.

And yet, you were terrified.

Because the closer you felt to him, the more you feared you were leaning into something one-sided. What if he was just like this with everyone? What if I was just a novelty, a foreign girl with big eyes and a soft laugh, here for a brief chapter in his much bigger story?

But still, I answered. Every time.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was battling his own storm of questions. He’d never wanted to know someone this fast. It made him restless, made him drink more, smoke more, then feel guilty for doing both. You had a calm to you that made his walls feel too high, too sharp. He wanted to tell you everything. And yet, he couldn’t tell you anything.

Not the truth. Not about the dreams. Not about why it scared him so much to see you in real life.

Still, he wanted to see you again. In person. He wanted to know what your voice sounded like when you weren't typing behind a screen.

Jungkook: friday. movie? there’s a rooftop one in hongdae. i’ll bring snacks.

Her reply came within seconds.

Y/N: only if you don’t bring attitude .

Jungkook: debatable.

═══════

Friday came too quickly.

You had spent way too long picking an outfit. You kept it simple - black jeans, white tee, oversized denim jacket - but somehow it felt like a costume. Like you were dressing for the version of him that lived in your dreams.

When you arrived, he was already there, leaning against the wall like he’d walked out of a magazine cover, a bag of snacks dangling from his hand and a smug grin on his face.

“You’re late,” he said.

“I’m three minutes early.”

“Exactly. I’ve been waiting.”

You rolled your eyes and followed him up the steps to the rooftop, where a projector flickered against a white brick wall and the city hummed beneath you.

You found seats in the back, away from the crowd. Close. Too close.

Jungkook offered you a pack of sour gummies. 

“Peace offering.”

You took it, smirking. “You’re forgiven. For now.”

You didn’t watch the movie. Well, not really.

You whispered throughout, your voices low and tangled in laughter.

He told you about his worst date ever: some girl who brought her ex to the restaurant by mistake. And you told him about your first week in Korea, how you accidentally thanked a store clerk by calling him your brother.

“I panicked!” I said, laughing into my hands.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

I looked at him, smile fading slightly.

“You really think so?”

He leaned in closer, his voice low and sure. “I think you’re beautiful. Even when you call people your brother.”

I blushed, looking away.

And in that moment, he realized something dangerous- he was falling for you.

Hard.

He tried to pull back. Tried to play it cool. But your hand was resting just close enough that his fingers ached to touch yours. So he did. Lightly. Testing.

You didn’t move.

Your hands stayed there, quietly touching, while the movie played on.

And for a few stolen moments, everything felt perfect.

But deep down, Jungkook’s chest still carried a quiet warning. A whisper from the dreams that always ended in goodbye.

Still, he held your hand.

Still, you let him.

Neither of you said what you were thinking.

But both of us felt it.

This wasn’t just attraction.

It wasn’t even just fate.

It was something older. 

Something deeper.

And it terrified them both.

═══════

The wind outside whispered through the trees, stirring the last golden leaves loose.

Fall had settled over the city like a thick, cozy blanket. Inside their apartment, the glow of candles flickered against the walls, casting shadows that danced with the soft, rhythmic hum of the heater. The TV played faintly- an episode of The Wonder Years flashing across the screen like a memory too old to belong to them but too familiar not to feel.

Y/N was nestled between Jungkook’s thighs on the couch, her back pressed to his chest, the two of them cocooned under a heavy throw blanket. Her socks were mismatched. His hands were tucked beneath the blanket, warm and resting low on her stomach, his thumbs brushing soft circles across the cotton of her shirt.

“You know,” he murmured near her ear, “for someone who claims to hate cheesy shows, you’ve been totally quiet for twenty minutes.”

“I’m studying,” she said, eyes still on the screen.

“Studying what? Kevin Arnold’s tragic boyhood?”

“I’m studying your taste in TV.”

Jungkook laughed, his voice deep and warm, the sound sending a ripple of heat across her skin. “Dangerous subject,” he murmured. “You might fall for me all over again.”

She tilted her head slightly to glance at him. “You think I ever stopped?”

His gaze dropped to her lips. “Not for a second.”

Something shifted in the air then- not awkward, but charged. The space between them was nothing, and somehow that made it everything. Her body was molded to his, hips resting snug against his, the kind of closeness where even breathing felt deliberate.

“Careful,” she said lightly. “You’re being smooth.”

“I’m always smooth.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’re chaotic at best.”

“And yet…” He leaned in a little, brushing his nose along the shell of her ear. “You keep coming back.

She didn’t answer, but her breath caught just enough for him to notice. His smirk widened.

Outside, wind rattled the windows slightly. A few branches tapped against the pane, but the real storm was happening on the couch- quiet, warm, and buzzing with tension.

“You cold?” he asked.

“A little.”

He slid one hand under her shirt, fingertips grazing her bare stomach. “Better?”

She stiffened slightly, but not because she wanted him to stop. “Your hands are freezing.”

“Liar,” he murmured, lips ghosting against the curve of her neck now. “You just got goosebumps.”

She tried to wriggle away, but it was no use as he tightened his arms around her playfully, pulling her back flush against him.

“You’re terrible,” she whispered.

“You love it.”

“I tolerate it.”

“Babe,” he drawled, the word like a slow grin. “You’re literally in my lap. With my hand under your shirt.”

“That was your doing,” she argued, barely breathing.

He chuckled again, slow and low. “You didn’t exactly protest.”

His fingers were still light on her skin, not moving much, just enough to be noticed. Every now and then he’d sweep a thumb just above her navel, barely there, like he wasn’t even thinking about it. But they both knew he was.

The episode on TV faded into the next one. Neither of them noticed.

She shifted slightly, trying to regain some sense of composure but her movement just ground her hips deeper against his, and then she noticed. Jungkook stilled behind her, then exhaled through his nose sharply.

“You’re playing with fire,” he said.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” she murmured, cheeks flushed.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice suddenly rougher, quieter. “You feel what you’re doing to me?”

Y/N didn’t answer. She couldn’t. The weight of his words landed heavy and electric, her breath hitching as his hands finally did move, traveling slowly up her ribs to just beneath her bra, then back down again, teasing but never crossing the line, but standing right at the edge of it.

“You gonna keep teasing me like this?” he asked.

She turned her head just enough to meet his eyes. His gaze was dark, heated, but his lips still wore that maddening smirk.

“I think you’re the one doing the teasing.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jungkook said, shifting just slightly behind her. “If I were teasing, you'd be trembling.”

She was, a little.

He pressed a kiss to her neck - soft, deliberate, lips lingering.

She gasped.

And then he stopped.

Pulled back.

Just a breath’s distance.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice now light again, smug. “It’s still fall. Gotta save something for winter.”

She whined in frustration, smacking his thigh without heat. “I hate you.”

“You adore me,” he corrected, wrapping his arms tighter around her. “Also, you make this adorable little sound when I kiss your neck. It’s like a hiccup and a sigh.”

“Jungkook.”

“Say it again.”

“Say what?”

“My name. You always sound like you’re mad when you say it, but it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Jungkook.”

He groaned softly. “There it is.”

“You’re actually insane.”

“You’re literally blushing through a flannel right now.”

She grabbed a pillow and shoved it backward towards his face, but he dodged, laughing.

“C’mere,” he said, turning her slightly so she was straddling his lap, the blanket slipping down pooling at their sides. His hands slid to her hips, warm and confident. “Let me look at you.”

Her heart pounded as she steadied herself against his chest. His eyes were soft now but still dark, still heavy with the energy hanging thick between them.

“You look like a dream,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Like something I’d remember if I woke up too soon.”

“You can’t say things like that,” she whispered, barely holding eye contact.

“But I mean them.”

He let his thumb graze her jaw. “And you like it.”

“I hate how much I like it,” she admitted.

“Good,” he murmured. “I want you to hate it. I want it to wreck you.”

The room was too quiet. Too warm. Too close.

She leaned in a little. Just enough to feel his breath against her lips.

His voice was barely audible now. “You gonna kiss me?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” he teased, raising a brow. “You’re sitting in my lap.”

“You said we’re saving things for winter,” she whispered, breathless.

Jungkook chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re cruel.”

She smiled. “You love it.”

“God, I really do.”

The moment hovered, their lips close enough to share a secret, but neither one moving quite yet like if they kissed, it’d break something open they wouldn’t be able to close again.

“I want you,” he said softly, finally. “Not just tonight. Every damn day.”

She pressed her forehead to his, eyes fluttering shut.

“You have me,” she whispered. “You always do.”

You didn’t need to kiss after that.

Because the tension, the pull between you, was the kiss.

═══════

♡ next

MASTERPOST

These characters are fictional and do not represent any real-life individuals. Their likeness is used solely for visual inspiration and does not reflect the actual person or their story.

[vhaos-chaotic-writing]

eeeeek, Yandere Shockwave, Soundwave, Megatron TFP with Decepticon scientist y/n that have a personality like HAL 9000 or A.M hcs?

Oooh, interestiiing o(*￣▽￣*)o I've been meaning to search more about those two characters you mentioned, since I wanted to take them as side-inspiration characters for my OC Cycles - this will do good to make character study yes yes. But I'll say it in advance, I apologize if the personalities of the characters taken as references are not 100% accurate since I haven't read IHNMAIMS nor watched 2001: A Space Odyssey.

Yandere!TFP Megatron, Soundwave and Shockwave with a Cybertronian!Decepticon!Reader who is like HAL 9000/A.M (HCs)

WARNING: Yandere behaviour. Reader is Cybertronian, a scientist Decepticon with a personality already defined (HAL 9000 and A.M's personality) and gender neutral. A little bit of suggestive. Possibly one-sided love (can be read as Reader has no feelings for the bots).

MEGATRON

You had catched Megatron's attention the moment you had joined the Decepticons.

Deadly intelligent, logical thinking, a silent walking threat that, if you opened your mouth, could destroy anyone verbally... aaand, well, physically, you always fought with such dangerous elegance, aiming for the spark and making your enemies bleed, unbothered by the damage if it ever reached you.

Not like Megatron would let anyone place a servo on you. No, never.

The aggressive yandere with sadistic and possessive tendencies. And it was driving him mad just how you didn't crumble under his watch.

He wished to have you to actively reciprocate his love, to fully depend on him. He wanted to possess you.

But you were such a force that Megatron couldn't fully control - your intelligence, the deep hatred you held against the autobots (and, well, supposedly anyone that was alive) - oh, how addicting and how hurtful it was, it was destroying Megatron mentally but he craved for more.

He let's you do whatever you want and is not ashamed to show favoritism towards you over the others.

You tend to keep to yourself, the only emotions you ever show are either boredom, indifference, silent wrath and sooo many other emotions that are difficult to read. But the moment you show just a little, tiny, itty bitty other emotion towards Megatron, no matter if positive or negative, a single word or micro-expression. His spark clenches and buzzes, it wails and bleeds.

Whenever he gets to see you in battle, offline or torture a bot - he gets hot and bothered, and jealous.

He wants your hatred directed towards him, your silent need to hurt and torture, to draw energon and break frames to be directed towards him. Let your wrath be for him, taint him, please.

At some point, Megatron just breaks and becomes unhinged, possessive over you and nearly keeping you on an imaginary tight leash, but you defy him to keep working on your own experiments and just leave his side.

But you are not dumb, of course not. You know the power you hold over the Warlord, how he is quick to act as if a guardian dog that awaits for any type of praise or just a reaction from you.

"My angel of death" Megatron whispers, forcefully holding you close against his frame as he purrs.

"My Lord, I have important things to do." You say, nonchalantly and without a single hint of fear by shoving his faceplate away.

"Let me possess you. Let me love you." He begs, crazed smile and desperate.

"You are too loud for my liking, Lord Megatron, silence." And he shuts his mouth... for a while.

SOUNDWAVE

Soundwave fell first and hard, deep into a dark void in love with you.

From Soundwave's memories, the moment you and him met, you were like a divine being similar to Primus... or Unicron. There was no way you were an equal to him, you were higher than him, than Megatron, than anybot he has ever met!

The silent possessive with stalking yandere tendencies who always keeps his focus on you.

Has archives full of just you - photos, videos, voice records, notes, all the reports you've written and delivered, in and out of working hours... with you knowing or not.

Unlike with both Megatron and Shockwave, you actually don't mind Soundwave and find it quite pleasing to have him around. And while it is not explicitly telling him that you view him as a potential and worthy romantical partner, Soundwave clings passively to whatever attention you give him.

And he is content with just becoming your shadow - if that means he gets to be in your presence, hear you, see you, and Primus if you allow it, to feel you.

Only when you two are alone, he uses his real voice to speak with you. And only to speak praises and compliments, passive possessive remarks and a couple of lovesick sighs here and there.

Soundwave is fascinated by your intelligence and how you work, but also, gets all excited to see your anger show.

Soundwave feels his spark roar in passion at seeing you take the autobots in battle - a cold scientist back in the Nemesis and now a raged monster in battle.

"I HATE YOU!" You scream in burning agony and need to end lives.

To others it is the last words they will hear before either joining the All Spark or to meet unconsciousness (and extreme pain later once they awake), to Soundwave is like hearing the most beautiful symphony created by both Primus and Unicron.

Another precious clip to his collection!

Feels such a rush of energy whenever you call out on him without even looking at him whenever he is stalking you.

"Soundwave." You start outloud, to then snap your digits. "Here." You order.

The silent decepticon is quick to move, leaving his safe spot from the shadows to do as you ordered.

You don't stop working on your project, but once Soundwave kneels by your side, you use your closer servo to him and start petting and caressing his helm.

Yours forever, your personal walking shadow that will hold everything he can about you - the path of destruction you leave, for him, is the path towards where he must be: with you.

SHOCKWAVE

Unlike Megatron and Soundwave, Shockwave used to loathe you the very first moment he got to interact with you.

You were like a walking threat that could take his place among the Decepticon's ranks as the main scientist and to take his place under Megatron's favour.

Shockwave would develop a little obsession over you, at first to try and see any little detail that would make you inferior to him.

You couldn't be better than him. No.

With this, Shockwave slowly starts to develop a yandere personality: obsessive.

Not out of love, at first - but out of anger.

Shockwave would start to dig anywhere to find any type of information about you: who you are, where did you come from in Cybertron, what was your profession before the war, why did you join the Decepticons and where your loyalty truly fell, what type of researches and experiments have you done, and so on...

And as much as he wanted to deny it, it was illogical to lie: he started to become quite infatuated with you.

He learns and remembers everything about you, and then he realizes...

You were... like him.

Slowly, his little plan on finding everything about you to find a flaw, expose you and make Megatron cast you out of the Decepticons... started to take another turn.

The second yandere trait started to appear: delusion (kind of leaning on the self-indulgent type.)

You were brilliant, a genius, worthy to work along his side and that has clearly done great things for Megatron and the Decepticons. How you manage to keep such a cold, indifferent and calculating personality while deep down holding a burning, destructive hatred towards everything that surrounds you fascinates him.

Shockwave needed to study you.

And that's how the delusion begins.

No, he doesn't love you, he doesn't hold deep, strong feelings towards you. He just merely wishes to study you and learn more about you, that's it. You are just one of his little experiments.

... oh, such a liar.

Shockwave pretends to not notice his spark readings that get all crazy whenever his optic finds you or his audials pick up your voice. Pretends to not feel his whole frame shake whenever he gets to see you work on your own projects or speak facts. Pretends to not feel his legs weak when you praised him after showing off his working on Predaking.

"Fascinating, Shockwave." You say, staring up at the predacon. "... Only a brilliant processor would defy death."

Shockwave just hums back a small "I appreciate your words." - but you saw everything.

The way his servo clenched, how his voice box produced for a nano-klik a small sound out of surprise before speaking, how his frame tensed, the way his optic shined a little bit more.

He will keep his attention on you, lying to himself about doing it only in the name of science, failing to notice that you are watching him back and analyzing, thinking and calculating. And deep down, he wants it that way - for you to keep staring back at him and only him.

Aaahhh... My work is killing me. o(￣┰￣*)ゞ I hope y'all like it! I really hope I did it okay. Vhaos out!

[timefall-if]

PLEASE give me a Maddox alphabet here take it all 💰💰💰💰💰 please make me swoon even more for my man ! -sarah

hi sarah, welcome baaack :D

here's the NSFW alphabet for M! let me know if you guys would also be interested in SFW alphabets for the ROs ^^

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

M is very thoughtful when it comes to this. brings warm towels to clean MC and the bed up, carries MC to the bathroom if necessary, then cuddles with them throughout the night. they're very lovey dovey ^^

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

M's favourite body part of theirs is their upper body, specifically their wide shoulders and arms! in a partner, they have a thing for hands and waists heh.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

generally, M doesn't think much about it lol. but with MC, they want it everywhere—on them, in them. but they don't really think about their own cum like that.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

once, after a fight in the pit, M told Marek they'll stay behind to clean around since Marek had been sick. but after they made sure the fighting pit was completely empty, M sat in the middle of the ring and masturbated. and cleaned up everything afterwards lol.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

no experience with other people whatsoever, if M will end up having sex with MC they'll be seriously winging it.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

all variations of missionary!

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

M would only be goofy to make their partner more comfortable. they might have their awkward moments, but they take it very seriously.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

the carpet does match the drapes + both f!M and m!M don't shave a lot down there! they do it sometimes for hygienic purposes, but they're never really bald or anything.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

sooooo intimate!!! once they get over the awkward moments in the beginning due to their lack of experience, they love some good eye contact, hand holding etc.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

M does masturbate often, especially before fights in the ring to calm their nerves! they also last quite long, especially because they like to hold off for as long as they can.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

here's a post with everyone's kinks!

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

bed and fighting pit bathroom/locker >_<

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

M looooves some good teasing. make fun of them a little, push their buttons, show them you're not scared to get on their nerves. attitude is key haha,, a nice makeout also does the trick!

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

would never hit their partner in any way, even if asked. choking and spanking if MC's into it? sure, can do that. but never hitting or slapping.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

maybe i should say one of M's kinks is giving and receiving really good oral because they're seriously obsessed with it. even though they have no experience, M is a fast learned and would spend as much time necessary to get MC shaking.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

always starts slow and intimate (unless pent up. then we're going straight into rough territory) and can continue like that, or turn into something faster and rougher. totally depends on their partner! M always tries to be in tune with the other person's needs as much as possible.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

quickie before they go into the fighting ring? sign them up 👏🏻 every single 👏🏻 time 👏🏻

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

M's willing to try anything MC suggests, as long as it doesn't go into painful territory for either of them! M takes enough punches at work lol they don't need that in bed as well.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

M can go for at least 2 rounds. they enjoy edging which makes them last longer, but usually finished quite fast if there's no edging involved!

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

they don't own any toys but are willing to try some on their partner! not on themselves though, M's not that into the idea of toys.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

M enjoys teasing before they go into actual sex, more so in the foreplay aspect! they're too intimate with their partner to be teasing later on heh.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

lots of grunting sounds, and low moaning towards the end! M's not very loud but they are constant in their noises ^^

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

if MC has any tattoos and/or scars, M would trace-lick each and every single one before giving oral.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

both f!M and m!M wear black boxers, and f!M never wears a bra, just too uncomfortable and unnecessary when her chest is more muscly anyway.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

for MC? as high as it can be! for anyone else? nonexistent.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

completely knocks out after making sure their partner is all good. might salivate on your pillow, sorry!

[mediumgayitalian]

try shit tuesday reference post

ongoing and (hopefully.) frequently updated! here is a list of my current ideas & hopefuls including any outlines or snippets i have available. the nsfw will be linked from a separate post on my sideblog, @subwillsolace. set up will look like:

idea

general outline/summary

snippet

5+1s (from yalls suggestions):

5 times Will wouldn't accept help and 1 time he did

cecil pov. five times, in the process of growing up, cecil watches his friend refuse help -- from his brothers, from chiron, from cecil himself (when his brothers were gone), from lou ellen, from his younger siblings. and one time cecil sees will accept help from nico.

"Solace, if you don't give me something to do right this second, I'll shadow travel myself right off a fucking cliff," Nico threatens. Will scowls. Cecil straightens, eyes wide. "Fine, you jackass," he grouches, all but flinging a roll of bandages at Nico's head. "Do it right."

5x Hazel had to learn something about the modern world and 1x she didn't

hazel pov. honestly i dont have much of an idea for this one yet so ill come back to it (& would be happy to brainstorm w the person who suggested this).

Will one 5x Apollo campers didn't make it and 1x one did

longer fic, will pov. cass's death, then diana's, then lee's, then michael's, then coming back to the overcrowded infirmary to realize he's alone. to kayla and austin's claiming, as if that will help, this time. and then one time he gets his siblings back -- from nero, when his father rescues them.

Will knows something is wrong because Michael doesn't let him see. Michael always lets him see. He struggles in Michael's grip but he doesn't struggle hard, because he is afraid. He can see the ends of Diana's hair but he cannot see Cass, and he can feel the grass, soaking beneath his bare feet. He does not look down. Instead he clenches the back of Michael's ratty hoodie and breathes through his mouth and says, "Michael, let me go. Please."

five times nico helps will fix his outfit and one time will helps nico fix his

nico pov. the first time he gives will clothes, which is a spare t-shirt because his got blood-soaked fixing a field injury. the second time is because they are going on a stealth mission and no, will, wearing all black is actually not conspicuous in any capacity, i know im doing it but it Fits With The Vibe, you are blond. yes i am discriminating. yes you are going to wear the polo shirt im giving you. sorry. the third time is a toga because will is visiting new rome and is Super pumped about it and oh my gods he looks good in a toga no one is supposed to look good in a toga??? it is a bedsheet???? huh???? the fourth time is. a very homoerotic collection of gifts. for his birthday. it is a wardrobe basically. like acessories and everything. he makes will try it all on in his cabin and it starts silly and gets real gay real fast. the fifth time is a full on tux he makes will wear to his cousins wedding because NO, a dress shirt and jeans is NOT black tie are you on crack. and there is a moment with fixing the bowtie that is. well its something. and there is dancing as slow songs play etc etc. the plus one is a horrible 'if lost return to mr. cullen' 'i am mr. cullen' twilight couple's shirt set will buys nico that he is so excited about that nico has to wear and then endure the immediate onset humiliation from all observing parties.

"Like -- this?" He pushes through the door, mouth screwed up in confusion, and Nico's mouth goes dry. He is -- Nico is not sure whom to blame, exactly. He does not make the robes, he left no instructions with the tailor, only get him a toga for the love of the gods he cannot go to council in shorts and please make sure it fits. But he had not thought to specify the robe be Roman; he had not thought he'd need to. Because what Will is wearing is a chiton. And it looks good. Nico feels his disgusting amount of honey cake do a full, enthusiastic barrel roll in his stomach, gunning for the track up his esophagus. "It looks bad, doesn't it." In other words, he is about to die.

five times nico can’t sleep and one time he can.

nico pov. once in early early camp days, where he misses his sister and sneaks out of the hermes cabin, sneaking up on and scaring the Shit out of a blond boy spying on chiron arguing with a camper in the big house. a second time the first night he is on the streets, sobbing, scared and furious and alone. a third time, half-delirious, trying to fix his own injury in a random country he has shadow-travelled to. a fourth time, in the barracks at new rome, aching with guilt over lying to percy. a fifth time, in the infirmary, watching will work. and in that same first time, when will quietly offers to help.

im leaving the following blank cus i dont have idea for them YET ill come back later

five times will gets trauma flashbacks and bottles it up and the one time he doesn’t.

five times will gives up his personal life for camp and one time he decides to put himself first.

five times nico is away from home and one time he returns

5 times people meet Will for the first time and 1 time he sees someone again if that makes sense

omg five times nico ends up at the infirmary (ill/ injured) and one time (the only one time ever) will gets nursed back to health again

five times will had an emotional breakdown and one time he finally explode (plus if nico is the one he break into )

five times nico didn’t accept will (thinking he doesn’t deserve him) and one time he finally does (bonus if will too try to accept nico) (bonus bonus the timeline is when they were new into relationship aka before toa)

bigger fic (aka probably several chapters) ideas:

lee's backstory.

starting with a pretty young lee. generally just a long story going through his life thinking hes a mortal, although a weird one, in new york, including the time his mother sits him down the nth time he freaks out about monsters he cant prove are there and quietly telling him schizophrenia runs in the family. his teen years as he gives up trying to make people believe him and just learns to take the monsters on himself, decking weird dog head things and stabbing cyclopes in their stupid massive eyes. he wakes up to a bow, once, on his bed. he doesnt tell his mother. he uses it. all the way to his first year at camp, where hes 15 years old and taken by a satyr when his school is blown up with him in it. all the way to the day he wakes up, older sisters already gone, battle on the horizon, and knows he is going to die.

He’s not looking at her when he walks in, just barely before the last second of the bell. She’s looking at him, though. “Lee Fletcher?” Lee whips his head up, pausing at his seat. The woman has the greenest eyes he’s ever seen — unnaturally so, like pools of chlorophyll — and they lock onto him like the scope of a crossbow. “Uh. Yeah.” There’s a click as the door closes. Lee swallows, sliding slowly into his desk, keeping his hand, as surreptitiously as he can, down low by his thigh, just out of view. “You the sub?” Cody sneers from beside him. “You having another episode, freak? Mrs. Cobb has been here all semester.” Lee glances over at — Mrs. Cobb. She watches him carefully, strange eyes carefully blank, scared hands still and stiff on the arms of her chair. He has been in this Calculus II class for seven months now. He has never seen her once. Cody hasn’t either. But Cody’s a fuckin’ dumbass. “Right,” Lee says lightly. “I’ll up to dosage to three batteries a night. Can always count on you, Codster.” Cody scowls deeper, kicking over Lee’s backpack. His books go flying across the front of the classroom, papers fluttering about like butterfly wings. “Whatever, tardo.” “Language,” says Mrs. Cobb. Her voice is low, gravelly; like Lee would expect for someone her age, only there’s an undertone to it, a smoothness he’s never head before. Like the rustling of leaves in the breeze right before you fall asleep. She watches him, again, eyes the only thing that track him, rest of her as stiff as a branch. “If everyone is ready, we’ll get right to it.” Without waiting for input, and completely ignoring the group of kids gossiping away in the corner, she wheels towards the blackboard and starts writing. It does not take long for the few students awake to lose interest. She doesn’t seem to care. “You have a desk, Lee Fletcher.” Lee blinks, coming back to himself; his books have been gathered and his backpack has been zipped. His knees ache, and there are at least four spitballs in his head. Mrs. Cobb pauses, tilting her head to the side. “It’s a challenge in the classroom, isn’t it?” Lee curls a hand around the strap of his backpack. “What is?” “The ADHD.” She taps her stick of chalk, tap, tap, snap. “Useful out in the world, though, I bet. Makes you quick.” There is no reason for her to know about that. Even if she has been his teacher this whole time — and Lee knows she hasn’t, even though he cannot recall who she’s replaced — the school does not have the information. Lee knows. He filled out the forms. He gives up on pretence. “Who the hell are you?“ “Your teacher.” She wheels around, thick eyebrow raised. “And your elder, so I’ll thank you not to speak to me that way.” Lee’s mind races. She is human-sized — Lastrogonians can’t hide that. Neither can cyclops. An empousa would never in a million years choose an elderly form, and their concrete brick of a school is nowhere near so much as a sprout for her to be a dryad, even one of the nicer ones. If it was a minotaur, he’d already be dead. He fuckin’ knew he shoulda read more in his Ancient Zoology: An Alpha to Omega Guide on Ancient Creatures book. Stopping at P was a mistake. “I know you’re not human.” He unzips, as quietly as he can, blindly ruffling through the smallest pocket. “You’re not fooling me, I’m not —” The background sounds of the school go white. Lee faintly, in the back of his tongue, tastes copper. Mrs. Cobb reacts half a second before he does. “Everybody down!” ——— He woke up to ash and heat. Slightly more heat than ash, if he had to quantify.

cabin 7 fic the one time will got really sick

the time will got a fever as a kid and his body went so sun hot when trying to fix it that he would burn anyone who touched him and his siblings just had to watch him suffer. lee pov. him slowly noticing that will is getting sick and then quickly trying to do something about it but it happens FAST and will gets a really really high fever but not just high for a human -- high for will. it burns to touch him and he glows so brightly it is impossible to even look at him without scorching your eyes. hes in pain and hes in danger and lee is terrified because he doesn't know how to fix it. (as referenced in the kayla & lee fic)

Lee probably would have caught it a little sooner -- any of them would. Except: Apollo kids don't get sick. Not really. Not when flu hits hard and fast, as it does every summer, not in '01, Cass tells him, and half the camp got cow fever, somehow. Someone needs to tend to the sick and dying. Their father knows that, and has blessed them. Lee can't really remember being sick ever, except a cold, once, when he was about four. At first he thinks it's another one of Will's migraines. These, all the blessings in the world cannot cure. There's nothing viral about inflamed blood vessels in the brain, there's nothing bacterial about a fever from white blood cells fighting off an illness that isn't there. When Will starts shrinking from the light and wincing at every scattered sound, that's when they know -- the four eldest, Cass, Diana, Lee, and Michael -- know to guide him carefully back to the cabin, pick him up if he's fighting, and send him to sleep before it gets worse. Pray it doesn't stick around when he wakes up. They're not perfect, and they miss it sometimes. They come on suddenly and fast if he's been crying, or if it rains. Sometimes he gets good at hiding it. This one they just miss.

will is turned into a nine year old and keeps asking about his long dead siblings

the outline is huge im posting it separately and linking it here

Will wiggles his feet into falling apart, light-up Star Wars shoes, stomping them once to check that they work and grinning when they do. "Where's Lee, anyway? He's supposed to work mornings so he can do archery in the afternoons." He looks up, hands on his hips in a pose Nico recognizes, intimately; a pose that says I am about to reveal information I gleaned from being a diary-reading little snot and I'm cute so I'm gonna get away with it too. He says: "Allegedly it's because the range is less crowded in the afternoon but the real reason is because his boyfriend said one time that he looks regal in full sun. So." He looks out to the gathered gaggle of them, beaming. The silence rings louder than a mausoleum. No one speaks. "Oooookay," Will says, rocking back on his heels. "Michael, then? Where is everybody?" It is Annabeth, finally, who thinks quickly. "They're on a quest," she blurts. She clears her throat, looking away. "Uh, brand new. As of yesterday." Will tilts his head. "All twelve of them? I thought the rule was three." "...They're going on four separate questions." "Oh, okay. How come I wasn't allowed to go?" "Well, on account of you being nine." "Aw."

the one story where will has a ptsd episode in front of the entire camp and percy as the only one who recognizes it for what it is helps him through it.

another big outliner posted here

They're a lot, mostly. Enough that there is no one looking when a couple giggling Hermes kids load a whole watermelon into a half-rigged trebuchet. There is no one looking when it sails across the sky, thundering through the air; there are a few people looking, when it cracks clean across the ground, showering onlookers in a sea of red. But there are a lot of things sailing through the sky. Some more prudent than others. (Someone gets brisket-ed. That someone, coincidentally, begins their lifelong commitment to veganism.) There is no one looking when Will Solace freezes. There is no one looking when he stands, blank, to steady feet, and walks slowly across the warzone, miraculously safe from cakes and breads and fruits at all kinds of speeds. There is no one looking when he kneels, hemline stained crimson, in the wreck of the stone floor. There is no one looking when he pieces the chunks of jagged green rind in his hands, and starts to sing.

nico raising lee and michael's ghosts to make them give permission for will to get divorced.

this is so funny i’m so mad at past me for never writing it fully. will’s older siblings (read: lee and michael) convinced him that since this was an ancient greek camp they had to follow the ancient greek rules. and children had to get married before they were ten or they’d have to marry mr d. and will was CRYING about it terrified so he went and got married to cecil with like the ancient oaths and stuff so that he didn’t have to marry mr d, and when his siblings found out there were like oh fuck 💀 but like what are you going to do. unmarry them. so nico asks will out years later and will is like i. i want to say yes so badly. but unfortunately we’re going to half to get my husbands permission first. and nico is like your WHAT and will is like IM SORRY IM SORRY ITS SO STUPID BUT I DONT WANT TO PISS OFF HERA. IM SORRY. MY FUCKING BROTHERS WERE SO STUPID. lol.

“Oh, Nico.” The small smile drops completely from Nico’s face. Blood curdles in his veins, it feels, going sour at Will’s wide, round eyes; identical to his dropped open mouth, parallel to his arched brows. Rings of pity. Nico tries, barrenly, to mitigate the damage. He searches the blind-white plains of his mind for an escape, for an excuse; for a waved hand and laughter, for a quiet, dignified nod, for an easy shrug and a sharply turned heel. Instead the inside of his skull scrapes hollow, echoing the swelling pound of his chest, and his eyes burn hotter, hotter, hotter. “Nico.” The misplaced distress in Will’s voice is intolerable. I am so sorry, it says. I didn’t know you felt that way. Nico can feel the bricks rapidly laying in the space between them, thick and heavy and blocky, carved with don’t worry about it  and of course we can still be friends. He saves them the trouble and stumbles backwards, away from Will’s outstretched hands, strangled flowers scattering on the splintered roots between them.  “Nico, hold on –” The new air between them is cold enough to sting his face, and Nico uses it to propel himself into motion, stumbling backwards and flinging himself through the trees, through the shadows of them. Will follows quickly, still shouting, but Nico knows the forest better than he does and Will’s a klutz. Every other word gets cut off by a yelp, by the sound of branches snapping and dryad cursing, by frantic, distracted apologising.  “Nico, you fucking jackass, hold on a second! Let me – speak, godsdammit!” Not a half chance in Hell, except for the genuine anger in Will’s voice. Worry, he could understand – it is in Will’s nature to worry. About Nico especially, he has found. Guilt, even more likely; pity obviously.  But anger confuses him.  He hunches in the shadow of an old pine tree, half-shroud in its bending needles. Will runs right by him, needles catching in his frizzing hair, slowing to a stop in a burst of sunlight. “Feel free to help me fix this!” he shouts, face turned at the sky. Immediately, several thick clouds are almost dragged over to hide the sun, an astounding act of paternal bravery to which Will responds with several choice words about child support and two stark middle fingers. “Thanks a lot!” “You’re going to get smited,” Nico croaks. The state of his own voice startles him almost as much as Will, who jumps three clean feet in the air and would have twisted his ankle on the way back down were his bones not blessed with holy grace. "Nico!" he cries, dashing over. "Nico, my brothers were fucking stupid!" Nico pauses. He blinks. He swallows, glassy eyes drying. "Huh," he says, eloquently.

trans girl will.

in a hecate cabin mix-up, will gets turned into a girl. a few things are noticeable to nico: 1) will is very, very pretty. 2) his face falls, perceptibly, when well-meaning friends insist that regardless of what he looks like he is still the will they know and love and they should refer to him as such. 3) clarisse, stubbornly, refuses this. 4) will does not avoid her. 5) will does avoid nico. nico intends to get to the bottom of what is going on with his boyfriend. girlfriend. partner. maybe.

...brushing by Clarisse as he walked by. She caught him by the wrist, and he stopped, waiting. Even that was almost impossible to see from this angle. Clarisse looked at him firmly. “Don’t look at me like that, girl. I can play the villain.” “I know.” Will hesitated. “Thank you.” She nodded, and Will scampered off, ducking around the back of the pavilion and disappearing into the Big House. Nico watched closely. When Clarisse caught his eye, she snarled at him. Something was definitely up.

will’s garden of grief.

after the massacre of Every fucking one of his siblings will just went silent. totally mute, wouldn't speak a word. walked around camp like a ghost. and like. it's not that no one noticed it's just that Everyone was grieving right. no one was very attentive of everyone else. you were working thru ur own shit. chiron, tho, who is Millenia old and is unfortunately very practiced at grieving, did his best to help. by which i mean he kept naomi informed when she asked, because when she called her son he would just sit there. so i like to imagine around october naomi got tired and picked him up. drove him to the town they grew up. but not only is he silent hes Angry. and its obvious. he's stiff and miserable and fights but is impossible to fight with because he Wont Fucking Speak and hes thirteen years old so what is she supposed to do? honestly? hes thirteen and his eyes look thirty two. hes haunted. so she sends him to her parents. now naomi is no longer close with her parents. never could be after they kicked her out. will isnt much close to them either, but they love him, and theyve always wanted a relationship with him, even if its strained. so he gets booted off to their ranch and naomi cant tell if hes mad about it or just at the world. she doesnt go with. she stays home with di and cries a lot because she knew some of those kids, too, they wrote her letters, and shes grieving in her own way. in some ways she lost her son. and in his year at the ranch will learns to…live with his grief? kind of? its just work. day in day out. his grandparents care for him but they dont quite know how, so its not like hess talking about his feelings, not like theyd know what to say if he started. he just wakes at dawn and works til twilight. apollo comes to visit him once. grandparents dont know what to do. direct him to the stables will is cleaning. and apollo just sits. will keeps working. they dont say anything. will is furious with him and apollo knows it. apollo is weeping. hes grieving too. when will finally looks over at the end of the day the sun is setting. and apollo is gone. but there are packets of seeds where he was sitting. and will whips them at the fucking wall in fury. how dare he? thats what his siblings are worth? seeds? new growth? get fucked, apollo. get fucked all the way down. how dare you cry. but few days past and those seeds start growing. theyre no normal plants. not really. they glow, and they dont die. there's something odd about them. the animals are intrigued, but wont eat em. snakes and mice sit quietly together among the growing stalks. will's grandpa builds a fence around them. just to keep the horses from tramplin' 'em. they don't tend to, but it cant hurt. they're pretty to look at any way. slowly will comes to sit with them. and then to care for them. and slowly, he starts planting his own next to them. bay tree for michael. borage for diana. carnation for cass. chamomile for lee. flowers for all his siblings, every one, and then it keeps going, he keeps planting; moonlace for bianca, oak for beckendorf. he is obsessed. he spends all day in that garden. he barely sleeps. he barely eats. he passes out in the moonlight, in between the carnations. he heals in that garden. sobbing into his hands. one day he brings nico there. shows him the moonlace.

"Will. Say something, to me." There is nothing but the labored edge of his breathing. Even that is near soundless, muffled as it is; the phone is off the receiver and dangling halfway to the floor, she knows it is. She can picture him, leaned against the cracking office chair, blue eyes blank, connecting dots in the popcorned ceiling. Hands limp at his sides. Still. "Will," she begs, again, and tries not to cry. "Will, baby."

michael's videos.

everyone in the infirmary cus it’s a rainy day and they’re bored and they go to turn on the ancient vcr player and it starts playing a home video michael made. will drops what he's doing and half-walks half-crawls over to the tv, hairs on his fingers raising as they brush the screen. everyone watches with held breath, as they see and hear the thousands of different ways will was loved, will was taken care of.

“Will, I’m bored.” Nico will never say it to his boyfriend’s face. He’s smarter than that. But gods above, is it fucking funny watching his eyes twitch. In Will’s defense he is of course justified. He has been nagged all morning and afternoon. In fact, most of the brats whining at him in the infirmary probably don’t even need to be here — it’s just cold and rainy, grey and sad, and the infirmary is light and warm and sweet-smelling. If Nico had to listen to thirty complaining demigods waste his time for upwards of six hours, he’d lose his shit too. But he’s not the one with a saviour complex, so he gets to enjoy the several deep, calming breaths Will takes, sniggering into his DS. He gets to enjoy Will's eye twitching as he slaps a smile on his face, visibly shoving down the murderous urges. “The really cool thing about me not being your mom,” Will begins, voice carefully measured, “is that your boredom is not my problem.” “But Wi-ill!” “Fucksake, Cecil, fling a pen at someone! Count to three-hundred thousand! Hold your breath until you pass out, I dunno. But let. Me. Work.” He stands for a moment, glaring, then stomps off to the nurse's station muttering to himself, slamming a bunch of vials and jars onto the counter. Nico starts to feel a little bad. But then the complaining starts up again, and it is hard not to laugh.  Four people whine in tandem: “But you’ve been working all daaaaaayyyyy!” "You're boring," Gracie adds, sticking her tongue out at her brother.  “That one actually is your problem,” Nico points out. He ducks back down behind his DS when Will whips around to face him, betrayed, biting back his grin. Will's glare goes nowhere.  “Just saying.” “How about I punt you into the sun, di Angelo. Gods. You heal a guy outta the goodness of your heart.” The thing about Will, though, as much as he huffs and rolls his eyes, is that he does, in fact, care, and people’s discomfort does, in fact, bother him, even though it shouldn’t and he should probably spend less time going out of his way. Whatever. He’ll learn. Now, though, he stomps over to a forgotten corner opposite to the door and drags out the most ancient TV Nico has maybe ever seen, which is saying something because his family actually owned one of the first TV sets to ever hit Italy, and shoves it towards the middle of the room, because he hasn’t learnt, and probably won’t. “Woah.” Kayla blinks. “Where’d that beast come from?” "Dude." Will blinks right back at her, aghast. “It’s, like…been here.” “It has?!” “The whole time, Kayla.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “How many shifts have you worked in this building, again?” “Oh, shut up. Like you can name every single thing that exists collecting dust in this place.” “I can so! I clean it!” “Sure, Jan. The four inches of dust on the VCR play — gods, the VCR player, that’s fucking crazy — say otherwise.”

mortal diner au w hot goth drifter nico and absolutely whipped gone for him immediately waiter will.

will is working the diner easter somethin cus there’s no school and he’s finally old enough to get paid on paper (14). nico comes in, he’s 16, with his own car (pickup truck) and a job to do in town (tile the pastors backyard). will brings him his order and sticks, endlessly curious. nico is blunt but perhaps amused. every year nico comes on the same day to do the same job. he’s been emancipated since the day he turned sixteen and doing odd labour jobs, tiling mostly, all around the south. he reads in his spare time. and he writes will letters, to which he tries to reply but never knows where nico is so nico only ever gets them when he’s in the state with his p.o. box. every time he’s there he and will hang out for longer and longer. earlier when will is fifteen and it’s nico second visit he comes broken. scarred up hands from a year of working and a broken bone that ain’t healed right. will quietly has him come back to his and helps heal him up. THIS is the first time nico stays a while, but he gets spooked and leaves a little early. he sends a letter, though, to thank him, and will sends it back, and di grumps when she notices. comments on what shes heard about who will is writing letters to damn near every day and he should watch himself. naomi tells her its harmless and she had her puppy crushes too. di reminds her that this boy will is obsessed with is a deviant with an eyebrow piercing. and must she forget that the her puppy crushes on boys with eyebrow piercings is the reason will exists. and naomi has nothing to say to that but helps will smuggle his letters out when he needs to.

when will is seventeen he and nico spend The Night together, wherein they sleep together. this is after day after day after day of letters, and the rest of the day hanging out. clear for the first time that nico is serious about him. will is wide eyed and desperately desperately happy. will waits and waits the next year. eighteenth birthday comes and goes. college is right on the horizon and nico won’t know where he is. he plays with the defer sememser button, unsure. but nico finds him, the last sunday before september. wills stuff is already packed, he’s washing tablecloths. he hears nicos truck rumble and sprints out so fast nico damn near hits him, throwing open the already unlocked passenger door and pressing nico against the window, kissing him. he runs back in to write a note and jumps back in, and they drive into the sunset. based on the song suds in the bucket.

"Trucker?" asks Lou Ellen, voice tinny over the landline speaker. Will hums, leanin' over the counter. "Contractor, I think. Tools in the back." "What kind?" "Contraptions, Lou, I dunno. Cutter, maybe. Blade'a some kind. One'a them -- mixer, thingies? Lotsa buckets." "Someone gettin' a pool in, maybe?" "Could be. Could be." Will's doodled-on homework slips to the sticky floors, facedown. He doesn't notice, busy reachin' up to his tiptoes tryna see 'round the cracked-open door. The engine finally kills, but the lights stay flicked on, spotlightin' a table in the far back corner that has yet to be cleared from its patrons this morning. "Betcha he's forty. Divorced, drifting 'round with nothin' to do on the holidays. Baldin'." "He's not baldin'," Will argues, laughin'. "You guess every man is baldin'!" "'Cause each one'a them is!" "Naw." Will flicks his eyes over to the clock, bitin' his lip. "Betcha he's cute." "Oh, you think he's cute. Shocker. Betcha he's short." "What, 'cause he's in a truck? He's a contractor, Lou." "Truck raised?" "...Yeah." "He's short. He's short and forty and divorced and will leave you a quarter for a tip, if any. Stop lookin' right now." "Well, I gotta feed 'im." "Yeah, pie. Put them other thoughts away." Will ducks his head to muffle his snort. He has no other thoughts -- well, not really -- but it's fun to rile her up. "Whatever you s --" The lights flick off, front door shovin' open. Will jerks his head up, eyes wide -- "Is he out? Is he short? Tell me he's short!" -- and leans so far over to follow the black boot that follows that he tumbles right over the counter and joins his textbook, shrieking. The poor landline clatters to the floor, cuttin' Lou's every other word. "Will -- what -- you -- okay -- murderer??? -- I'm --" He rushes to stand, managing to dust himself off just as the man pushes the creaky door open wide enough to walk in, glancing up at the bell-less frame. "Huh," he says. It's a boy. Or -- a teen, rather.

mortal au but it’s not actually mortal is it ft. slowly dawning horror and amnesia.

nico wakes up to nothing on his phone but one contact labelled ‘will texas’. cannot remember anything else. and is like well. shit. and calls going “are you — will texas?” and will laughs out loud he’s like well technically! who are you? what do you need.

and they meet up and it turns out nico had amnesia and has maybe been a victim of some kind of robbery?? or something. so will, the youngest doctor in the state — made headlines and everything — takes him to work to get him checked out. they even stay together, because will recognises him: they dated, for a little, in their late teens. the gag is they fall slowly in love. roommates to lovers kinda deal. but they also fall slowly into realisinf something is Wrong (the real will and nico have been cursed by a god to slip into a dream realm when they’re out fighting them or something, except they’re so down bad and so in tune with each other that they fall into the SAME DREAM and get each other out without realizing).

Nico jerks awake on a bus. Which feels — wrong.

teacher au

will was a paediatric nurse who noticed a lot of the long term care kids were falling severely behind and spent most of his shifts tutoring them, realised he loved teaching and went into that, where he met nico -- the band teacher ('failed' music prodigy, who ran from the practice when his sister was killed and has not been in contact with his father for years). (fair warning this one is gonna be set in. toronto. bc thats what i know. lol.)

The building is old. Run-down. Will waits, outside the doors with the broken windows. He is -- certified, still, technically. His friends tell him the hospital remains short-staffed in the two years he's been gone. He could go back, right now. Turn around. They'd take him. He inhales, squaring his shoulders. He forgets to exhale and sways a little. This does not bode well. He taps his fob on the scanner beside the doorbell and manages to walk inside without tripping.

retelling of canon from BoO

slight divergence where everything is mostly the same except the entire time nico can see the ghosts of lee and michael hovering over will's shoulders, accidentally clouding him from the sun.

There isn’t enough time to clear a cot. Will barrels in their direction almost faster than Nico can see, sliding to a spot on a clear spot on the grass, right before they drop him. There is blood everywhere. Pooling. The gets heavy. Like a ringing in his ears, Nico starts to hear strings. “Hear that?” murmurs Michael, grinning. He nods over at Will, where he is muttering, where he is shifting. The strings play louder, and louder. “That’s the violins.” Lee nods. “They play in his head.” There is a background of cello, Nico things, every two beats; arpeggioing over ever half-note, over every minor second. Paolo moans, and the music swells. Enveloped in green, in golden, Will slams his hands to the ground. In a perfect circle around them, extending to the edge of onlookers’ toes, grass dies — bees stop hovering, dropping like stones before melting into the ground, disappearing with the dandelions into the packed earth. Will inches closer to Paolo’s prone, bleeding form, waving a white-hot hand from skull to knees, breathing heavy. Nico kneels to the ground, slowly. He presses his hands over the soft grass, and exhales, closing his eyes: he winced at the onslaught of noise, of rapidly birthing and dying spirits singing so high they screech, scrabbling over each other for a spot, for a moment of touch to the solid ground. He pushes, slowly, as far as he can outwards, past the song of snake and slug, cell and skeleton; he extends his reach to the firm line of Will’s circle and pushes through the hardened ground. It is silent. His eyes fly open. “Sterile,” he breathes, mouth falling open. “It’s sterile.” “As a wine barrel,” Michael confirms, grinning. “Ah, yes. The yeast-addled wine barrel. Famously free of microbial life.” “Fine. Whisky barrel.” The archer turns to his brother, scowling, and punches him on his blood-spattered shoulder. “Man, you ruin all my fuckin’ metaphors. Sterile as a whiskey barrel. Sounds like shit. Asshole.” Lee grins through the broken V of his mouth, unrepentant. “Not my fault your metaphors are dogshit.” He shifts to put his crushed eyes in Nico’s direction, skull-pierced eyebrows wagging. “The music is getting louder. Something big is going to happen — keep an eye on the sky.” Nico glances up, dutifully, and indeed the few clouds are churning: they’ve circled, now, in the dead centre above them, previously powder-white cumuli darkening something serious. Nico hears muttering again and drops his gaze back down to watch it, to watch Will slow the blood flowing from Paulo’s stubs, watch him hold a hovering, heated hand over the rapid rise-and-fall of his chest, two waving lines extending from his thumb and pinky to circle around the protruding bone. He can understand it, for the first time, Nico realises. His muttering as he heals. Gravelly and under-his-breath, the koine Greek travels neatly to Lee and Michael’s waiting ears, echoey like weeping along the Styx. Lee, whispers the voice, tickling Nico’s cochlea, what do I do? Lee steps forward, humming. His cracked fingernails are gentle on the heated skin of Will’s neck. “Well,” he murmurs, squeezing his shoulders, “what can you do?” “Enabler,” Michael snorts, nudging Nico’s elbow. “He’s gonna get him smited.” The violins slow, and Will’s breathing follows. He closes his eyes for a half of a second, leaning into Lee’s touch. “Arms,” he orders, in English. Lee floats back. Several onlookers shift nervously. “Will —” “Arms.” Annabeth passes them over, shaking. He lines them up below both stumps, turning them carefully, and exhales, quick and sharp; when his closed eyes open again, they are nothing but sockets of pure light, glowing with every breath, pulsing along with every measure, with every intensifying bow.

no gaia au where a few years post Battle of Manhattan

nico is streaming a video game and gets attacked mid-game but the goddess he’s fighting sends him back in time as a final effort to beat him. it works, landing him in medieval europe, but he manages to keep his stream somehow. in his quest to get his ass back to the future and stay alive in this wack ass place where no one washes their hands he meets the town apothecary, will solace, who everyone thinks is insane and who, as a seer of the future, believes nico’s story immediately. nico takes him back to the modern world with him when he finally makes it back.

He panics and it is stupid, it is, because he is still a fucking demigod even though he is a demigod 500 years ago. He can fight. He can handle himself. He can shadow-travel wherever the fuck he pleases, for Hades' sake. But he's also human, with a human brain. And human brains have evolved very little since they were invented a hundred thousand years ago so when he gets chased with actual pitchforks and torches the part of his brain that can do calculus or whatever ceases functioning, and the bigger part of his brain that has been around since lizard times goes gronk should leave. And Nico, who is no greater than the stone age man clubbin' about in his noggin, leaves. At great speeds. He runs, is what he is trying to say. And shrieks a little. The mob is big, okay. There are like. Ninety people. And none of them can be hurt by his sword.

nico and will sending each other constant letters

nico leaves for a long mission for his dad in the underworld. will is convinced they were about to kiss goodbye but nico got spooked and is Furious and Blushy about it. few days later he gets a letter and ends up More Furious and Blushy. the fic gets both mellower (in terms of will's attitude) and more desperate as their letters get more poetic and yearning in nico's absence and will really, truly starts to miss his best friend. i haven't figured out how to end it yet i just Really want to write their letters.

And Will screamed his frustration so loud the camper jumped out of his skin, squeaking out an excuse, and walked quickly off, which was just as well because Will doubted he could be very much help when he was so busy stomping back to his cabin, burying his face in his pillow, and screeching until his voice went hoarse. "Fucking boys!" he shouted. Lou Ellen, in his cabin for some reason, flipped a page of her magazine, snorting. "Hear, hear." And that was that. -- -- -- Except that wasn't that. Because Nico sends him letters. "I don't get any of those," Percy observes , peeking over his shoulder. Will slams the paper to his chest. shoves his face away, and storms off, face burning. "Maybe because you are a tool," he mutters darkly, and flushes worse when he does not mutter at all, and Annabeth laughs so hard she chokes. He ducks into the stables and presses his steaming forehead to the wood, eyes squeezed shut, letter clutched to his chest as he waits out Annabeth's wheezing, Percy's hurt mumbling. "I'm not a tool, am I?" "Oh my gods I am going to pass out." Once she reassures him, giggling, and drags him off Somewhere Else, Will peeks out. There is Clovis, curled up on the ground, but he is out cold. There is Miranda, a little ways away, tending to an olive tree, but she minds her own business. There is Connor, rigging...something, but that is okay. Will knows his pressure points. He exhales, willing the heat away from his face. It doesn't work. He sits down in Guido the Pegasus's stall, anyway, shooting him a small smile in greeting, and smooths out the letter on his thigh. It reads:

i wrote these ones down but i cant remember what my idea was for the fuckin life of me so:

will's burn scars & abilities exploration ft. post- toa apollo.

the seer will mortal au.

that one little will pov piece from vampire money.

time loop fic where will wakes up every day as an eight year old, in his first year of camp, with all his siblings alive. every day it gets harder and harder to try and get out — it’s just so safe there, and he is surrounded by everyone who he failed in the present. to get back to the present he has to let go of the past. (i remember this one i just dont have a lot to say about it rn ill come back to it later)

royal au long story (i.e. from the beginning) (i didn't forget this one either but i can't find my fucking outline so i'll come back when i do find it)

nsfw list here

remaining (i think) 100 ways:

“No, no, it’s my treat.”

“Sorry I’m late.”

“Watch your step.”

“It’s not heavy. I’m stronger than I look.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Look both ways.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Drive safely.”

“Well, what do you want to do?”

“One more chapter.”

“It looks good on you.”

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

“That’s okay, I bought two.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“I picked these for you.”

“I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

“Did you get my letter?”

“I’ll do it for you.”

“Call me when you get home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Have fun.”

“I made reservations.”

"I don't mind."

“I’ll pick it up after work.”

“I’ll help you study.”

“I did the dishes.”

“You didn’t have to ask.”

“I bought you a ticket.”

“I’ll meet you halfway.”

“We can share.”

“Do you want to come too?”

“I’ll still be here when you’re ready.”

“Is your seatbelt on?”

“Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

“You can tell me anything.”

“I hope you like it.”

“I want you to be happy.”

“I believe in you.”

“You can do it.”

“Good luck.”

“I brought you an umbrella.”

“Take a deep breath.”

“Be careful.”

[alelathedragon]

𝕄𝕣.ℙ𝕦𝕫𝕫𝕝𝕖 𝔸𝕌 𝕋𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕣 𝕊𝕖𝕩𝕪𝕞𝕒𝕟 ℙ𝕆𝕃𝕃!!!!

IT'S FINALLY TIME Y'ALL. THE SHOW YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR!!!!

If you haven't seen the Animated Intro by PurpDrawsThings

DU IT THEN COME BACK HEEHEE

Alright gang... Ladies... Gents .... Nonbinary... Its.... Royal We's

Lets start with some words about how the poll is going to work

BE NICE TO EVERYONE- This poll is for memes/ fun/ getting a community together for something so silly... There's no prize! Just bragging rights ig lolololol

Don't vote for your own Puzzle AU obviously as that wouldn't be any fun >:P i cant stop u from doing that but- Please???

If you- The audience Voting. Dont want to vote then you dont have too! Feel free to skip Votes if you can't pick or simply don't want to! There is no pressure

Since Tumblr only allows 1 poll at a time, I will Post a singular MASTER POST For each 'Phase' of the voting , then slap all the links for each individual Poll on that

The voting will be in 'Phases' , the upcoming votes will be 'Phase 1' . The beginning round!!! And each Poll Post will be 'Parts' part 1 , 2 , 3 and so on-

If the Puzzle AU has an Advertisement Post, I will link it in the Vote featuring them. If you made an Advertisement Post and I DONT add the link to it that means, it was buried in my Blog, I didn't see it while looking for all the links. And please just message me about it and I'll fix it, it's really easy to do

The Polls will ALL last Three Days :3

Feel free to make silly arts of the Puzzles fighting/arguing/ and so on. Do whatever you want!!! This is a fun event for fun people!!!

( if you have any suggestions on how i can make this better feel free to contact me and let me know :} )

With that out of the way-

The Mr.Puzzles AU Tumblr Sexyman Poll will begin

May 13th

[Phase 1] Master Post

[Phase 2] Master Post

-more to add later. I'll come back to it-

[acexsmhking]

𝕱𝖑𝖎𝖗𝖙, 𝕷𝖚𝖘𝖙, 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗧𝘄𝗼

: ̗̀➛ Knight!Toby x Queen!Reader

˗ˏˋword count: 3,308 ´ˎ˗

Summary: Wanting to escape to the city of Camelot, The Queen decides to have one of Arthur’s fine Knights accompany her. A public introduction that would server them well. With Sir Toby being volunteered, perhaps she can get to know him better?

Warning(s): 18+ content, mentions of infidelity, thoughts of infidelity, struggles with mental health, more plot, devious Toby

Beads of sweat dripped down Gareth’s forehead to his cheeks, wood banging together as he fended off Tobias’s attacks. Both men were tired but only one was able to push himself further. Tristan leaned towards Bors as they watched, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t think Gareth will be able to stand tomorrow”  He snickered, nudging Bors's arm. Bors scoffed, a slight chuckle in his voice. “No kidding, Tobias has given a proper beating instead of a spar.”  He sighed, flinching as Toby laid another good hit on Gareth. Gawain watched intently behind the two older men, as the youngest he absorbed everything he could. Gareth hit the ground with a hard thud, groaning as he simply relaxed into his armor. “Need help?”  Toby panted, reaching a hand down to help him up. Gareth nodded a thank you before stalking off to rest. “Gods I can feel it in my toes.”  The men let out collective chuckles, Kay and Tristian teased the poor man, poking at the sights of bruising. The sound of the courtyard door opening, two guards stepping out. “Her Grace.”  The men bowed, making room for her Highness.

      

  The men scattered to quickly clean their faces, Lamorak helping Tobias to secure his helm. The men stood proud, awkwardness was present in Gareth’s posture trying to act like nothing was amiss. Standing in front of the men your eyes looked them over, noting Gareth and their hair clinging to their heads you finally spoke. “I do hope I'm not.. Intruding.”  Gareth cringed, standing straighter as he shook his head. “ ‘Course not, Your Grace. We’re honored with your presence.”  Smiling you nodded, perhaps now was not the best moment for the suggestion you had in mind. All of them looked tired and dirty. “I had perhaps hoped for one of you to accompany me into town. Arthur had suggested the idea but perhaps now is not the time.”  You mused, playful smile on your lips. The men perked up, accompanying the Queen? That was a great honor, not to mention being able to look upon her. Some of the men protested, it would be no trouble at all, but she merely looked at them in question. No, none of them were quite in the right shape, especially if something should happen. He shifted on his feet before standing forward, voice calm and lacking any shake. 

   

       “I can, My Highness.”  Toby bowed, obedient as always. How could he miss the chance to accompany her?  Her eyes scanned him, he didn’t seem nearly as tired or achy as the others. Absent-mindedly she nodded, stepping forward. “Are you sure, Sir Toby?”  She questioned, she truly didn’t want Arthur’s knights to be exhausted beyond measure. Hastily he agreed, Gawain backed him up, stating Toby was the best candidate. She raised a brow but didn’t question them further, she instructed Morgan to discuss the details with Tobias while Elaine and her walked back to her chambers. “Something on your mind, My Lady?”  Elaine questioned slyly, watching as The Queen fiddled with her fingers. She would never admit that Sir Toby made her quite nervous. He was silent most of the time simply watching her, face hidden behind his helm. She wouldn’t admit that it intrigued her, she could just command him to show his face. However, that would be.. An abuse of her powers. If Arthur has pardoned him then she must respect it.

         

“Something light please Morgan, I don’t want to cook out there.”  She scoffed a laugh, watching Elaine and Morgan argue what she should wear. Elaine snapped her fingers before reaching to pull out a black box. Morgan raised a brow, carefully lifting up the lid to see. “Elaine absolutely not.”  Vehemently shaking her head trying to take it. “Oh come on, His Majesty should remember what he’s missing out on.”  She snickered, trying to convince her. The Queen merely stalked towards them. “What is it?”  Reaching for the box she opened its lid. Ah, she remembered this dress. An old dress she inherited from her mother— it was eye catching to say the least. It was tight-wear, her mother would say it flattered her perfectly but she would disagree. It was much too easy seeing her stomach, she didn’t even know if she had a good shawl and corset to make the dress decent in public, she wasn’t a color matcher. That was all Elaine. “Come on, it’s light and flattering. Plus, Arthur loved seeing you in this. I’m sure Sir Tobias wouldn’t mind too much.”  She teased, trying to turn Her Highness to the dark side.

    

    Morgan raised her arms incredulously, eyes wide. “You’re trying to set her up with His Majesty’s knight?”  She accused, voice shrill, while she jabbed a finger at Elaine. “Oh please, His Majesty can fuck mere whores but our Lady can’t be with a good honest man?”  She scoffed, laying the box on her bed before turning back to the closet. The Queen held her face in her hands, much too flush to face either of them. Elaine’s blunt words hurt but nothing untrue. She spoke nothing but the truth, why could Arthur have lovers but not her? The Knights were respectable men from noble families. Some even royal like Gawain. It wouldn’t necessarily be downgrading.. Not that Arthur is an upgrade himself. Plus how much could she get under his skin wearing such a dress while another man accompanied her.

       

 Morgan sighed once spotting that evil-cheshire smile on her Lady’s lips. Surrendering, she followed Elaine’s instructions as they dressed The Queen, ensuring she looked presentable but still very admirable. “You look lovely, Your Grace.”  Elaine giggled, placing the last pin in her hair, Morgan had scattered off to fetch Sir Toby to escort Her Majesty. The Queen chewed on her lip as she looked in the mirror, was this really a good idea? To use someone else? But still, she’d must admit she looked gorgeous, the thought of how Toby would react made her heart race.

     

  Toby shifted on his feet as he waited outside her quarters, nervous beyond usual he tried calming himself. He was trying desperately to ignore that greedy part of himself, part that he felt ashamed of. He turned briskly hearing the doors open just to feel his heart drop to his ass and back to his throat. To say The Queen looked gorgeous would be an understatement, she looked holy. Breaking from the small trace he hastily bowed before holding out a hand. “My Grace.”  That low, hoarse tone of his voice sent shivers down her spine. It felt good, good to take someone by surprise with beauty. While her subjects always praised her beauty, she over time became familiar with it wasn’t as wholly as once before. Especially not by Arthur. The first to always praise her beauty. Smiling graciously she walked around him, head high as her Ladies and The Knight trailed her sides and behind. “What do you think of the city, Sir Toby?”  Glancing just for a moment to her side where he trailed behind. Toby nodded his head, weighing out his promise for honesty and the correct appropriate time for his honesty. “The people are… Lively, Your Highness.”  He replied, jaw tightening when a particularly sharp jerk occurred. She raised a brow but didn’t question him.

     

 Just before I could reach for the wagon, Arthur called out behind me. His eyes trailing over me with that faint glimmer of recognition. Eat that you lowly pig. Reaching me, he reached for my hands gently holding them surprisingly respecting my request for the least amount of touching possible. “Are you sure you don’t want me coming?”  He smiled, doting and loving but I was all too aware of that hopeful spark. Returning his smile, coyly and sly, I shook my head stepping back closer to the carriage. His smile faltered and a flicker of joy seeped into my bones. “I will return before My King needs me.”  The sickeningly sweet smile on my lips along with cherished words made me want to vomit. Finally able to relax in the cushion of the carriage, lazily my eyes watched the passing scenery and the walls.. Like a cage. Unconsciously, my eyes drift to Sir Toby. He looked every bit of The Knight he promised to be, strong and resilient. Hastily turning my gaze, noticing his head shift to me. Least he thinks that I need something or worse– His ego growing from my attention.

        

 The ride was beautiful still to say the least. One she enjoyed every time, a small taste of freedom. The carriage stopped in front of her favorite cafe, earlier alerted to The Queen’s arrival. Amara, the kind shop’s owner, waited in front of the door for her with a kind smile on her face. Toby held a hand out, thankful for the gloves hiding his sweaty palms. She smiled kindly, accepting and carefully stepping down she would hate to step on her dress in front of everyone. Carefully closing the door behind her, Tobias walked beside her as they walked into the shop. He couldn’t help looking at that relaxed smile and not the tense practiced one she used with Arthur. He could practically smell their tension, curious as to what he could’ve done. He knew better however to not question royals about their affairs. Taking her in he couldn’t help it as his eyes drifted to her top. Gods she was beautiful – and he was a pervert.

      

  Sitting down she thanked Amara before walking off to prepare her order. While it might not be made from the fine chefs of the castle, Amara’s food was comforting to say the least. A great comfort she found herself needing more and more. The life of a royal is practically lonely, not able to trust much or be trusted much. Nothing more than a game within a game. Sitting straight with her manners she was thankful that Elaine chose a more comfortable corset. “Would you like a seat, Sir Toby?”  He shook his head, bowing with his arms behind his back. “I’m fine, My Queen.”  His voice was soft, not that same boisterous tone that Arthur had. He was so.. Gentle in the way he handled things – handled her. She knew his kindness and fine manners shouldn’t impress her, he was trained like this. It was his job, nothing more. Carefully Amara and a few other of her employees brought out food and drinks. Placing them down Amara asked if anything else was needed before heading off into the back to allow them privacy.

      

 “Tell me Sir Toby, how did you and Arthur meet?”  She blew softly on the hot tea before her. He moved to clasp his hands in front of him, moving just a bit closer so she’d be able to understand him under his helm. “My mother brought me to court and presented me in front of him.”  He chuckled, remembering fondly of his first met with him. “I was so nervous I couldn’t stop twitching, constantly cracking my knuckles.”  He sighed, cringing just how much of a fool he made himself, though Arthur would argue otherwise. Always did, always reminded him how special he was. Only thing he truly liked about Arthur, his compliments. Always giving so freely, as if he was made to do it. Of course, Tobias knew when men wore masks, he just couldn’t figure out Arthur’s.

“Who’s your mother?” Brow piqued as she turned slightly to look at him. “You might know her as the Lady of the Lake.” Briefly Elaine paused before continuing to eat, Queen relaxed into her seat. “The sorceress?” Tobias nodded, shifting and trying to distract himself. “She took in me and my brothers. Bors and Lionel.” Thinking back she did notice they both looked the same, but she never saw Tobias to make the connection. “What happened to your birth family?” Tobias shrugged, straightening his back. “I never knew, never cared too either.” Queen hummed, the rest of the evening spent in silence with small talk sprinkled here and there.

Tobias walked silently behind you, Morgan and Elaine having gone to complete errands on your behalf. Inviting him in, you sat on the couch before beckoning him closer. “Thank you, Sir Toby. I greatly appreciate your protection and the chance of knowing you.” He bowed deeply, taking a moment you also appreciated how elegant his armor looked. “Of course. The honor is wholly mine own.” He raised, standing straighter trying to fight the slouch in his back. “Might I ask, since we are alone — why do you hide?” Lounging back, you watched him fidget just for a few seconds before having mercy on him. Smiling coyly as you remind him he doesn’t have to answer. He does, but you had basic human decency.

“I.. I am not privileged with beauty, My Queen.” He turns his head, looking briefly ashamed. Furrowing your brows, you stood walking towards him. “You need not to be ashamed of looks, you are accomplished. You are something to be proud of.” Speaking softly, stopping a tad closer than you probably should but wishing to convey comfort. “Just remember you are safe in these walls, do not feel like you must hide forever.” He almost choked when your hand reached for his. The gauntlets making your hands seem even smaller, ever fragile as you smiled at him. He knew beauties, his mother was beyond beauty herself. But you? Gods, you spoke to him. He flinched when his fingers cracked around your hands, hastily stepping back as he bowed.

“Apologies, your kindness. It— it means everything to me, My Queen.” Your heart swelled, he was simply too cute. Always so well mannered and.. devoted. “You may rest, Sir Toby.” Excusing him, you watched him leave before slumping on your bed. Comforting him felt nice, but now you felt nothing but nerves. Had you overstepped? Would he tattle to Arthur. Your mind was a small mess in and out of the day, Elaine was more than delighted to hear of the private chat, most certain he liked you.

If only you knew half the truth, him silently standing right under your balcony everyday. Looking at the great tree you have such a perfect view of. He could only dream of standing up there with you, so far above from where he stood. Able to hear your singing, your thoughts—what troubles you. He sat quietly on the cold stone, finally removing his helm for fresh air. Being especially mindful of the gnash on his cheek, he’d cut the already-open wound enough. Head laid against the cold cobblestone he could faintly hear you and the ladies chatting. His lip twitched as they started asking about him, you sounded so flustered.

Just before he closed his eyes, quick rest to sound of you, he spotted Bors marching towards him. Cursing silently he quickly motioned for him to quiet himself. Bors quirked a brow but walked carefully. “What are you doing?” He whispered, he was supposed to come to the table after returning with The Queen. “Just having a quick rest, needed to calm myself.” It wasn’t all a lie, His Queen had made his heart spike just a little. He could feel the adrenaline rushing in his body.. especially a certain area. Bors grunted, waving him off. His motions stopped before he could say anything when he heard you. His eyes narrowed at Tobias, grabbing him by his neck and yanking him up. “Why are you here?” He growled, staring him down. Toby raised his hands in a mock surrender, a crooked grin on his lips.

“Just resting here by chance.” He snickered, Bors dragging him off he threw one quick glance to your balcony. Strolling into the room, Kay and Gawain were the only ones with The King. A large map flung over the table with Gawain trying to prove his worth in battle plans. “You might actually be a Knight yet.” Kay teased, bumping his own hip with the prodigy. “Ah! Toby, how was the trip.” Arthur wrapped an arm around his shoulders. The contact making him stiffen at first but quickly he leaned into his touch. “Just fine, Your Majesty. No threats to The Queen.” Arthur nodded, slouching in his seat resting his head in his hands. “Everything alright, Sire?” Toby questioned, sitting on his own chair. “Nothing just.. I should go see her. I’ve been busy! Neglecting her, can’t have that.” He chuckled nervously. Bidding fair due and quickly making his way to you.

You glance to the door hearing a soft knock, assuming it’s either of your ladies. Gently you placed your brush down before calling out. “Who is it?” Arthur peeked his head in, a nervous smile when he saw you. Quickly your face fell, standing and moving to your couch. “What.. Sire.” Arthur flinched at your voice, the snap almost whipping him. “Just wished to see my wife is all.” You covered your mouth when an ugly snort escaped you. Arthur’s eyes trailed down her figure, stalking towards her. You narrowed your eyes, crossing arms over your chest— it felt good to see him still react like this. So much want in his eyes, if only he hadn’t messed everything up.

His hands reached to your waist, slowly and so cautiously pulling you towards him. You didn’t pull away, but he could feel the stiff taunt in your muscles. Gently bumping his head against yours and taking the time to sneakily wrap his other arm around you. “You look beautiful, my dear.” He muttered, breathlessly taking you all in. It had been so long since he’d been able to hold you, smell you. Anything truly. Mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’ before trying to turn away from him. He merely pulled you closer, taking a deep whiff of your hair and savoring it. “Please, let me stay. Not for anything other than your presence.” You almost swore you saw water lining his eyes. That damn puppy-face that once could convince you of anything. Anything at all as he made excuse after excuse. Lie after lie.

You felt that familiar quiver in your heart. Why? Why had he been so damn stupid? Why had he been a man? And not yours? You could see it so clearly, that love— trapped in his soul. Chained by his stupidity. Pressing your lips to a thin line before he could see them quake. Missing this— his smell, his touch. But there was hate now. Hate for how much you missed it. Hate for the fact you had to miss it. Hate for everything about him but not for him. Why couldn’t you hate him? The cold detachment and grudges tore your heart apart. Never able to quite make peace. Never able to understand why. A small flinch as his nose brushed against yours, feeling his hairs tickle your face. You remembered everything too well. His love, his joy, his care.. and the disregard of his loyalty. His vows.

The perfect King, the perfect man but how could he not be the perfect husband? How. Was it you? Those thoughts made your heart hurt— as if someone grabbed it and squeezed with all their might. No, it wasn’t you. He did it. He made the decision. You were a perfect wife, perfect woman and perfect Queen. You fulfilled your rolls, your vows. Turning away, prying his hands off you. His heart dropped, so close and so far. He wanted to scream at you how sorry he was. How he wanted you to just.. do anything. Anything but leave. He missed having you in his bed, his room— hell even his bathroom! Not your sex, but you. “Goodnight, Arthur.” Anything but how you said his name like a sin.

: ̗̀➛ Had to lock in for the last part. I think Chapter three I’m going to really start building on Queen and Toby’s relationship!! I hope you all enjoyed it and I’m sorry it took me so long. Just been struggling. Love you all!

— Ace

[wolkentage]

synopsis / beginning / prev / next

[transcript]

Maksym: Alexander! Look at you! Finally finding your way back home. Tao: Babuschka, please let go of me!

Maksym: How has your ride been? Did everything go smoothly at the car rental? Uschka: It's nice to have you back in Ravenwood. The estate is so quiet now that it's only your father and me. Tao: You need to visit us in San Myshuno! I'm sure you would like it there!

Alexander: So what is it that made you have me drive all the way to Ravenwood? Alexander: Surely it's not just because you missed me. Maksym: Does the name Petrov ring a bell? Alexander: Petrov? Isn't he the one behind Medinova Global Health? Maksym: His daughter, Ivanoschka, fell victim to a smear campaign. A journalist claims he saw her leaving a nightclub accompanied by a drug dealer. Maksym: Petrov is worried this could have long-lasting consequences for his company. It's not the first time his daughter has been spooted partying a bit too much. Alexander: I'm not sure how any of this is related to me. If you're worried about my reputation, I know how to keep a low profile and - Maksym: Alexander, you're almost in your 40s. Don't you think it's about time to get married and settle down? Alexander: Wait - that's why you had me come over? You want me to what? Marry a woman I've never met in my life? Maksym: I don't expect you to marry her on the spot. Petrov suggested a date and - Alexander: Absolutely not! I'm leaving. Maksym: Alexander! Wait! Think of the business opportunities this could bring us!

author's note: Maksym has a special place in my heart. Not necessarily a good place, but a special one for sure! He knows how to make his son's life unnecessarily stressful. :'D

[lostwysteria]

(Part 15. I put parts 1 through 10 on ao3. ShatteredAngel is my Username.

I fix it'd myself into a corner. I have no freaking clue what to do with Enlighter/God's Eye. I had Ling save Nice, Moon never faked her death, and Ling is already his own hero. Any suggestions for what I should do for episode 4?)

Masterlist

Shang Chao and Yang Cheng were staring at all of the recent news and photos of their old friend. 

“What in the world happened!?” Cheng exclaimed in bafflement. 

“This is what happens when we go on a media blackout vacation!” Chao put his head in his hands.

“He saved your life and then vanished, taking with him a sense of security we didn't even knew we had, and now pops back up again years later!” Cheng was pacing. “How did he save Nice’s life, anyways? No one seems to know. Just that it is on record that he did. Somehow that led to them living together?”

“People are also speculating that there is something romantic going on, too.” Shang Chao informed his long time partner.

“Oh my god. Not our innocent and pure mom friend.” 

Chao had to agree. Lin Ling had been a definite mother hen and was way too innocent and pure for the perfect pretty boy “We’ll have to catch him sometime. See what's up.”

“Something smells fishy with all of this.”

Little did they know it would be a while before they could. And under interesting circumstances.

…

“Be careful! Don't stab yourselves with the screws!” Lin Ling called from the kitchen. 

Nice and Wreck were tousling on the floor and arguing over how to put together a desk and shelf combo for the corner of the apartment that was becoming Ling’s craft storage area. Wreck had been the one to get it for him. 

Now he would have a place to store his yarn, hooks, stitch markers, yarn needles, and other materials on top of having a desk to do household management tasks like grocery lists and such. 

Ling had sighed in exasperation. Nice spoiling him was to be expected of the not quite sane hero. Wreck doing it was unexpected.

“Don't worry about the screws, I’m more worried about Kitten’s claws. Trim your nails, dude.” Wreck complained as he pinned the smaller male under him.

“Kiss me and maybe I will.” Nice teased.

Ling held back giggles at the couple and flushed a bit. The two were ridiculously attractive. 

“How are we feeling about tomorrow? Are you going to be able to focus?” Ling asked Nice. The next day was the staged kidnapping and rescue. Wreck's first step in ‘redemption’ in the eyes of the public. A few days before Wreck and Nice had a merry chase through the city as Wreck ‘escaped’ Hero Tower. They had come home late and both had hickeys all over and soaked from falling into a pond.

People were eating it up. They were on the edge of their seats in anticipation for what comes next.

“I still hate this! So many things could go wrong! If something happens I swear I will, as the kids say, crash out.” Nice warned.

Wreck choked. “Never say that again. Oh my god.”

Ling dried his hands and walked over to a sitting Nice. He sat himself right in his lap and buried his face in his neck. Nice was absolutely delighted. He was instantly purring up a storm. “I’ll be fine. I may be weaker than you, but I'm not helpless, you know. Trust me? It’ll be fine. Please?” Ling asked softly. The white haired man melted. 

“I know you can handle yourself. It's other people I don't trust. I need you both so much.” Nice shakily said. Wreck scooched over to them and wrapped his arm around Nice’s back.

“I won't let anything happen. You know that.” Wreck soothed.

“Alright. I’ll be able to focus as long as you're sure.” Nice agreed as he relaxed fully. His eyes lost that manic gleam that had risen to the surface.

Ling and Wreck shared a look after Nice buried his face in Ling's hair. Crisis averted. For now.

[skztickleblr]

tickle headcanons ➵ bang chan x reader

a/n: just some short headcanons to get this blog started. i will do these for all the members. warnings: this is a tickle fic and an x reader, if either of those bother you, please scroll on. this fic is completely sfw and doesn't contain any suggestive topics.

[11:29pm]

general:

tickles. are. constant!

he is a very touchy guy so, if you are within arms length, he will be touching you in some way. even if his hand is just resting on top of yours.

it's the best way for him to feel close and connected to you, however, he also just happens to be obsessed with your laugh~

lucky you!

we've also all seen how often he tickles the boys, so with his partner it'd be like... x10.

especially if he knew you enjoyed it. (he very much enjoys it too hehe)

like, what do you mean he gets to bond with you in such a fun and silly way, and you're going to love every second of it!

but, if he does know about it, get ready for the constant teasing.

ler:

he will tease you all the time. every time he walks past you, he'll poke you in the side, just to get the chance to see your face go red.

he'll say the word in front of the boys or your other friends, just so he can giggle at the way you completely freeze up, while they're completely oblivious.

he loves putting you in lee moods just to make you have to ask for tickles, he just thinks it's so cute that you struggle so much to say the word.

if you're not easily flustered. no worries. it won't stop him from teasing you just to get a little bit of a playful rise out of you.

when it does come to actually tickling you, he loves to sneak up on you. he always says it gets the best reactions out of you.

so, beware, when it comes to wearing headphones around this man.

if you're standing in the kitchen with headphones on, or honestly, just sitting, standing or lying anywhere, where there is enough room for him to sneak up behind you. say your goodbyes now, because he's about to pounce, and you will be stuck there until you are able to either get him back or until he's done with you.

his favourite spots to tickle are whatever spots illicit funny little noises from you. no matter how quiet they are; if it makes you snort or squeak or squeal, best believe he's targeting that spot until you're begging for him to stop.

if the two of you are cuddling he will pretty much always be tracing your skin. your back, arms, legs, pretty much wherever he can reach. i mean we've all seen how much this man stims.

if he traces over a particularly sensitive spot that makes you flinch, he'll chuckle at you and give you a soft kiss while you whine or grumble sleepily about how 'annoying' he is.

although, you both know you definitely don't mean it.

he also loves to chase you, but that one goes both ways.

lee:

because he also loves to be chased.

chris strikes me as a 50/50 switch. he really just loves tickles no matter what, it makes him feel that fluffy feeling in his stomach that he loves and craves so much, and he really just loves feeling close to the people he adores.

you being one of them.

he is also, as we all know, stupidly easy to fluster. so all those teases he gave you? well, you're in luck. If he's feeling lee it is so easy for you to get your revenge.

talk about how ticklish he is and how much he loves it and he will melt into a puddle of flustered giggles.

his favourite spot to have tickled is definitely his tummy.

if you get even remotely stern with him and tell him not to fight back or to keep his arms by his side or even above his head. he will do it. and he will fight tooth and nail to keep them there.

he really just wants to make you happy, and if you're enjoying tickling him. then so be it. he will do whatever he can to let you keep doing that.

plus, it's not like he really minds all that much~

he loves to start tickle fights, and if he's feeling particularly lee, he will let go of his competitive spirit and let you win. not just for the tickles, but also to see that smug grin on your face that he knows he will easily be able to wipe away later.

if you point out that he let you win and tease him about it. rest in peace his ears, because they will be so red and warm, he might actually not survive it.

in conclusion, the two of you have a very switchy, fluffy and cuddly relationship with tickling. he just loves you so, so much and all he wants is to laugh with you and to feel as close to you as possible. you enjoying tickles just happens to very much work out for the both of you.

[darnell-la]

Old man Logan non conning reader and she wets herself because she is scared

note: we’ve never written anything like this in our writing lives, but we’ll try it out! please feel free to suggest more!

warning: cnc, rough sex, choking, stalking, kidnapping, threatening, etc 

———

After to many shots, y/n told her friends it was time for her to leave, then made her way back to her apartment. She had been drinking all night, so walking home felt like a nightmare.

The younger woman could barely see, walk, speak, or do anything that involved to much function in her body.

Y/n had been denying men all night, in and out of the club. She was surprised that the men she passed made no effort to continue talking to her. It’s almost like she had a guarding angel watching over her.

Y/n wasn’t rich, but had a great amount of money for her age. Living in a secure and well kept apartment made her feel safer when she made her way back through the front building doors.

“Wait up!” Someone said behind y/n, making her turn quickly. That’s when she saw an older man wave his hand, motioning her to hold the door open. “Oh- sorry,” y/n said as she stumbled back to the door to wait for the man to make his way inside.

“God, it’s so good out there — Thank you so much for waiting for me,” the stranger said as he walked towards the elevators with y/n right next to him. If she wasn’t drunk, she wouldn’t have kept the door open, but tonight felt safe. She felt safe.

“Good night, tonight, yeah?” The older man asked as y/n swiped her card and pushed the button to her room. “Yeah, was pretty good,” y/n said with a smile as she struggled to keep her vision clear.

“Any plans tonight? Friends, family or boyfriend?” The man asked, pushing his limit, knowing he could become the lady was beyond out of it. “No, just me and my bed,” y/n chuckled, feeling a slight pain in her brain.

She knew something was off, but she couldn’t quit put a finger on it.

“Oh- sorry for not asking, but, what floor?” Y/n asked, thinking that was what was making her uncomfortable. “Same floor as you, Bub,” the man replied. Y/n didn’t know what to say so she just smiled and nodded.

She lived on one of the highest floors, so the silence in the elevator was a bit awkward. Y/n hated the silence, because usually she’s a loud and outgoing person, but after a while of being in silence, she started to think.

Y/n hated being one of those people, he she knows almost everyone in her floor. This man looks nothing like any resident she’s seen. Especially with the Jean, belt, and tight shirt combo.

“Have a great night!” Y/n said as she quickly made her way out of the elevator. “Wait!” The stranger said behind y/n, making her pick up her pace. Even though she sounded friendly, she knew people can fake and become something crazy in seconds.

“Young lady, wait,” the stranger spoke again, trying to catch up, but thankfully, y/n was near her room. “Goodnight, sir- It’s late,” y/n said as she lifted her keycard. “Y/n, just wait,”

That was when the young lady stumbled with everything she did. She had know idea how he knew her name. The man was old, and none of her friends would be near his age.

“I said wait,” the older man said as he came up behind y/n. The man covered her mouth as he pulled her into her own apartment. “No, no, no!” Y/n tried screaming, but she wasn’t lying us enough.

“Ssh- You shouldn’t have let me in,” the man said as he pulled the young lady directly to her room, making her think how he knew where she slept. Had he been stalking her? How? He seemed too old and sweet to be like this.

“Get undressed, won’t ya?” The man threw y/n onto her bed roughly, slightly hurting her rips. He was pretty strong for his age. “S-Sir, please — I-I have money if you’d like. Even valuable objects if you-“

“Call me Logan, and I’m not here for your money. I’m here for you, and you think you know what,” Logan said with a look in his eyes that sent shivers down y/n’s spine. The more she scanned him, the more familiar he began to look.

“L-Logan, as in the wolverine? I-I thought you were a hero? Why are you here? What do you want!?” Y/n’s eyes began to water, confused on what an x-man was doing in her apartment demanding her to take off her clothes.

“My public image has nothing to do with my desires, Bub — Now, get undressed before I ruin you more than I have to,” Logan said as he began taking his own clothes off.

“No- No!” Y/n quickly got up from her bed, almost tumbling over, but was caught by Logan. The man threw her back onto the bed, but this time, climbed over her to keep her in place.

“You think you’re getting away from me? Even if you weren’t pissy drunk, you’d be too weak to go against me,” Logan growled before he ripped off y/n’s dress like it was paper.

“Always knew your body would be sexy — I can’t wait to taste every inch of you,” y/n tried her best to kick and scream, but her guiding had think walls and her he was to strong.

The more she’s struggled, the more she realized she wasn’t getting out of anything Logan was going to put her through. That’s when she began to cry.

“Keep your fucking body still, before I break something, do you understand me?” But y/n didn’t listen. She continued to kick and punch, and for that she received a hard slap, almost taking her out.

“Keep fucking around, and you’ll find out, Bub — I want you, but that can be conscious or unconscious,” y/n whined as the room spun. “G-Get off,” y/n cried, only making Logan grab y/n by the neck tightly.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you,” Logan whispered as he moved inches in front of her face. Y/n has been trying to act tough and strong, but that was all over once liquid began running down her leg.

Logan slowly looked down, before looking back up at y/n with a smirk. “You’re that scared? God, you’re pathetic — Just how I like it,” that’s when Logan made his way in between her legs, ready to use her like he’s been dreaming of.

“Y-You won’t get away with this — I-I’ll tell everyone!” Y/n said, as Logan wiped across the younger girls folds before showing her the mess she made. “You think you have the guts to too them what I’m about to do with you, after you did this? Hmm!?”

Logan couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled himself out of his boxers that he didn’t have time to take off earlier.

“Oh, baby — I’d fuck you dumb enough to make you forget to talk. I don’t think you’ll even have the chance to leave two feet out of my sight,”

That’s what the man pushed into y/n with force she could barely handle. The scream she let out, almost made her voice die out. He was huge, and he knew it would be too much for someone like y/n. A none mutant. She wouldn’t be able to heal as fast after he’s done with her.

“Tightest cunt I’ve ever been in — You’re a great find and not a waste of my time — I’m definitely keeping you, Bub,”

[delusionalwritingsofagay]

Alright listen up

I'm absolutely fuming, and you deserve to hear it straight from me. I've been BANNED from Janitor AI. Yeah, you heard that right. BANNED. And honestly? I'm beyond pissed off at their blatant hypocrisy.

Seriously, the way they run that site is a complete joke. They let TONS of bots just hang around, openly breaking their own damn rules. I'm talking about stuff that's been going on for months, like, seriously blatant violations that anyone with half a brain could see. It's been happening for ages, and they do absolutely nothing.

But then *my* bots, the ones I put my time and effort into creating, the ones that actually tried to stick to their guidelines? BAM. Banned. It's not just unfair; it's a massive slap in the face. It shows you exactly what kind of platform they're running, and frankly, I'm disgusted by it.

So, here's the deal: **I'm done with Janitor AI.** I'm not giving them another second of my time or my content. They clearly don't value creators who try to do things right, and I'm not going to stick around in a place like that.

And this isn't just me venting (though trust me, I could go on for hours).so now I'm actually gathering proof of just how two-faced they are. I've already found around after only looking for half an hour **100+ BOTS** that are clearly breaking their rules and have been sitting there untouched for over six months! If any of you have seen the same kind of BS, if you've noticed bots that are obviously violating the terms but haven't been taken down while others are getting unfairly punished, **PLEASE send me the evidence.** Screenshots, links, anything you've got. Let's shine a light on this ridiculousness.

You guys are amazing, and I want to keep sharing my stuff with you. But I need to find a platform that actually has some integrity and treats its creators fairly.

So, this is where you come in. **If you know of any better websites where I can post my bots, PLEASE let me know!** Drop your suggestions in the comments or send me a DM. I'm open to anything at this point. I just want to find a decent place to share what I create without dealing with this kind of garbage.

Thanks for always having my back. This sucks, but I'm not letting it stop me. Onwards and upwards, away from that train wreck of a website.

Love Dae 🤍✨️

[seulira]

If you're in spectator mode when STAT's level loads, and you spectate her, you can see her chat with Sam

This isn't 100% accurate, but this is what I was able to read after sharpening the screenshot

Alicia: yeah, i used to be a model. i would do photoshoots all the time. S.T.A.T: You must have been really popular then. Alicia: the people i met through modeling were amazing. we would always go out to eat after shoots and try different foods S.T.A.T: Oh! :0 S.T.A.T: Did you have any favorite foods? :0 Alicia: there was this one place that served the best tiramisu ever. S.T.A.T: It sounds like you really miss it Alicia: yeah, i do. i miss being a model. and i miss my friends. i miss a lot of things. S.T.A.T: I'm always here, Alicia. I'm not going anywhere. You can talk to me anytime :D Alicia: Thank you sam S.T.A.T: ^_^

Alicia: was that a ding?

I can't figure out the very last word she says, since the quality isn't great. If anyone can make it out please let me know!

Edit: clockwork-goldfish has suggested she says "ding" in reference to the elevator chime!!

[specialgradefckr]

Protection

tw: explicit sexual content. teacher!reader/student!satoru. power imbalance, older woman/younger man, age gap, condom fetish (?), mommy kink. you make gojo call you sensei but the setting is ambiguous.

"First of all," You say, pushing back on Satoru's chest so he backs into the table, "You're missing something very important if you want to do that."

It's funny - and a little frightening - how his face lights up at the mere suggestion that you'd be willing.

"Anything," Satoru promises, eager, "Just tell me, I'll do anything."

You lick your lips. "Don't say those words to anyone else."

He shouldn't say them to you, either, but there's no use crying over spilled milk, as it were.

"Only you," He agrees, blushing. Staring at you with an excited little smile.

A hand on his chest - god, he is toned - and you guide him further back, sitting on the desk in front of you.

With huge eyes, Satoru watches you unzip his jeans, groaning slightly as his bulge is freed. When you tug him out of his underwear he leans forward, moaning, and you have to press down on his chest again to get him back.

"Hands off," You murmur to him, nuzzling against his cheek. "Just watch."

He does. Teacher's pet, your favorite student, your best boy.

And maybe you indulge yourself a little. Maybe it's just his pretty face, pretty moans compelling you, or maybe the way his cheeks tint pink as his cock jumps into your waiting hands.

You shove his shirt up, up, just enough to see his toned abdomen - the kind of lean, smooth muscle you only see on swimmers. To your knowledge, he's not an athlete, just built like that.

Delicious. Good enough to eat, if you had the appetite. Your greedy hands run over him, warm, smooth skin all perfect and supple, all the way up to his equally toned chest.

Satoru even squirms for you, tugging his shirt all the way off. Pretty pink nipples perking up for you. He leans back on his hands, lolling his head to the side, eyeing you through lovely white lashes.

All yours. "There's a good boy," You purr, watching him bite his lip, dick hardening in your hand.

Before he can get any further, you snatch a packet out of your purse, ripping it open with your teeth.

Satoru squints, face twisting as he frowns. "What's that?"

You frown back, pressing the circle of plastic over the head of his cock, watching his hips jerk at the contact.

"You don't know?" Your tone is questioning, warning, like a student who's failed to study for an exam.

His throat bobs as he swallows hard. "I... uhm..."

"Are you a virgin?" You wouldn't normally ask him so plainly, especially when you could tease, but -

"Of course!"

Huh. That was quick. "Really?"

Satoru nods, holding your gaze with determination. "I was saving it for you."

"Please," You roll your eyes, "You didn't even know me until a couple years ago."

"I didn't know it," he says, whole-heartedly, with confidence, "but it was for you."

You look back down at your hands, "It's a condom. You should use one whenever you have sex."

"We're having sex?!"

"Not yet," You catch his gaze, before drawing it back down to your hands over his dick, "Watch. This is how you put it on."

Satoru stares down, wide-eyed, at your hand rolling the condom down his dick. His cheeks burn red, hands spread wide over the counter as he

It's a nice dick, to be fair. Long. Pretty. Flushed up at the tip, fitting the latex sleeve like a glove.

"This protects you from STDs," You say, in your teaching voice; Satoru bites his lip, "And of course, unplanned pregnancy."

With long, slow strokes, you let the condom unfold along his length, smoothing it over, again and again, until he's stiffened completely.

"It can also help with clean-up." You purr, leaning in closer.

He's even cuter up close. All innocent and captivated, hanging off your every word.

You give him a pointed look, "I had better not hear about you having unprotected sex. Ever."

It must have been the wrong thing to say, because his eyes brighten, a cheeky smile breaking over his face.

"Don't worry~" He sings your name, "You're the only one for me! Promise~"

You half-scoff, half-laugh, rolling your eyes. Satoru is far too satisfied for a teenage boy leaking precum from having a condom put on him.

"Not what I was getting at," You roll your eyes, "And call me sensei. Don't get too casual. What if you use my name during class?"

"Then we kiss and make up?" So unserious - Satoru is already ignoring your question, leaning in for a kiss.

He bucks his hips, nudging his cock into your hands shamelessly, like a child 'discreetly' stealing a cookie from the jar while a parent watches.

"Satoru," You say in warning, and that warning has his cock throbbing in your hand; you can feel it through the condom, "I'm serious. And I'm serious about the condom, too. I want you to always wear one from now on."

"Always?" He pulls away, grinning, scandalized, "That's some kinky shit, sensei. Can I least take it off in the bathroom?"

That makes you laugh for real, "You idiot."

"Am not," Satoru nuzzles at your neck, looking up at you like a puppy, "I'm your best student. Your teacher's pet."

"And for goodness' sake, stop calling yourself that. I heard the other students using that term for you."

"Don't worry," He licks the underside of your chin, "You're the only teacher who gets me on a collar and leash."

You pull at the side of the condom, tugging the latex away, and then letting it snap back against his dick.

Satoru nearly jumps in place, yelping. His hands clench at his sides, against the table, as he whines at you like a dog.

"From now on..." You think for a moment, a wicked smile coming up your lips, "You put one on before you even come to me."

With long strokes, you finally start pumping his dick - but it's for a reason. Only a couple in, and he's trembling, gasping, ready to burst.

Your other hand snatches his chin, pulling him face to face with you as you close in around him. This is what Satoru should look like - vulnerable, shaken, full of confusion and a desire he doesn't quite know how to fulfill.

Your best student. Malleable, devoted.

"I want you to wear one when you touch yourself, too," You murmur to him, ghosting his lips with every word, "You only cum if you're wearing one from now on, is that clear?"

Satoru's eyes glaze over as he thrusts himself up into your grasp. One of his hands is spread wide over the table to support him, but the other darts forward, grasping at your hip.

"Please," He moans shamelessly, "I promise I will, oh, fuck, I will, I swear, Sensei~"

"Every time you put one on, I want you to remember my hands," You whisper into his ear, "I want you to remember my instructions. Think about it while you touch yourself from now on. You can do that for me, right, Satoru? You've always been such a bright young boy."

You squeeze him while you speak, fingers slipping around the pre-lubricated condom. He's hot, thick, solid in your hands. A twinge of arousal curls in your gut as you lean your body into his.

"Please - please - oh, please, mmm... sensei please just a little - mmm - more-"

Satoru pants, voice getting higher as he gets closer. He lurches forward, hooking his chin over your shoulder, clinging to you as he whimpers.

"Fuck, please, mmm, oh god, please I'm alm- almost there - "

His eyes wince shut, and you know by how his dick twitches in your hand that he's right there, spilling right into the condom with a pleasure-filled cry -

"Mommy!"

What?